Adventure Journals
Star Wars Adventure Journal — Volume 1, Issue 4 (November 1994)
Star Wars Adventure Journal — Volume 1, Issue 4 (November 1994)
Published by West End Games for use with Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game.
Credits
Contributors: James Cambias, C. Robert Carey, Stephen Crane, Larry Granato, Patricia A. Jackson, Charlene Newcomb, Tim O'Brien, Ilene Rosenberg, Anthony P. Russo, Peter Schweighofer, Bill Smith, Chuck Sperati, Paul Sudlow, Kathy Tyers
Editing: Peter Schweighofer
Graphics: Tim Bobko, Richard Hawran, Tom O'Neill, Brian Schomburg
Cover Illustration: Lucasfilm Ltd.
Cover Design and Graphics: Stephen Crane
Interior Illustrations: Kathy Burdette, Chris Gossett, John Paul Lona, Doug Shuler, Allan Kausch, Kathy Tyers, Mike Vilardi
Special Thanks To: Sue Rostoni, Allan Kausch, Julia Russo and Lucy Wilson, Lucasfilm Licensing; Daniel Scott Palter and Richard Hawran, West End Games
Publisher: Daniel Scott Palter — Associate Publisher/Treasurer: Denise Palter
Associate Publisher: Richard Hawran — Senior Editor: Greg Farshtey
Editors: Peter Schweighofer, Bill Smith, Ed Stark — Art Director: Stephen Crane
Published by West End Games, RR 3 Box 2345, Honesdale, PA 18431
© ™ and 1994 Lucasfilm Ltd. (LFL). All Rights Reserved. Trademarks of LFL used by West End Games under authorization.
Tinian on Trial
by Kathy Tyers Illustrations by Mike Vilardi
Tinian I'att, the granddaughter and heiress of I'att Armament's founders, wrinkled her nose and tried not to breathe too deeply. The factory complex's demonstration room smelled like scorched meat and chemicals. She could identify five... no, seven formulas by their odors, a potentially catastrophic witch's brew. Occasionally, the demonstration explosives detonated harder, faster, or earlier than anyone anticipated, and even quadruple transparisteel didn't provide full protection.
Standing beside Grandfather Strephan, Daye Azur-Jamin rested his hand on a waist-high blast barricade. Daye's I'att Armament gray tunic accentuated his air of authority. So did the management comlink he wore on his belt. A prematurely gray streak marked the center of Daye's left eyebrow. "There's nothing patently wrong with stormtrooper armor, your excellency," he said, and Tinian admired his self-control. She knew how Daye felt about Grandfather's Imperial connections. "But a good marksman — or an idiot with a high-powered blaster — can pick out weak spots. Our field makes it invulnerable."
Imperial Moff Eisen Keriloth slapped a polished ebony swagger stick into one palm. Tall and lean, Moff Keriloth held his head thrust forward over an astonishing array of red and blue rank squares. Tinian, Daye, and her grandparents had expected tech advisors for this demonstration, and maybe a few army troopers, but never a Sector Moff with stormtrooper escort. Keriloth limped, favoring a stiff left leg and occasionally leaning on the swagger stick. "Sounds wonderful, boy. So why did your demonstration employee turn coward?"
Grandfather Strephan's old black Imperial service uniform set off his thick white hair. Grandmother Augusta fiddled with a side hem of her long green robe. She'd recently developed a rare degenerative syndrome, and Druckenwell's top bioimmunal specialist gave her only months to live unless she sought treatment. It wasn't available here in Il Avali, or at any other city on Druckenwell ... and it was expensive. Behind Grandmother Augusta, the I'att family's Wookiee bodyguard Wrrlevgebev lounged against a pebbly gray duracrete wall. Wrrl rumbled a quick comment under his breath that only Tinian — who'd studied his language — could translate.
She didn't, but she shared Wrrl's disdain for cowardly employees. She fiddled with a collection of paraphernalia in her jumpsuit pocket: neka nut shells, droid adjustment tools, and her secret good-luck piece.
She would need all her good luck today. If I'att Armament sold its new armor-protective field, then her grandparents could retire, and she and Daye would take over the factory.
Keriloth straightened his shoulders and neck, then poked Grandfather with his swagger stick. "Well, I'att? Who's going to get into that armor? We came a long way to see this." Evidently Grandfather had known the Moff years ago. Each man had chosen his own way to serve the New Order: Grandfather by protecting Imperial might, Keriloth by wielding it. Keriloth crooked a finger at Wrrl. "You. Wookiee. Come down here."
Wrrl curled back his lips from huge teeth and let out a punctuated howl. Keriloth had demanded that the I'atts disarm their Wookiee during his visitation, and Wrrl was already irritated. A red-blond stripe crossed Wrrl's face, fur almost the same shade as Tinian's shoulder-length hair. It was odd coloration for a Wookiee.
"What did he say, Tinian?" Grandfather's business acumen showed in the way he measured and accommodated the Moff. Tinian tried to emulate her observant grandfather. Keriloth seemed blunt. And condescending.
She glanced at the shell pieces on the arming table. Eighteen white units lay beside the limp halves of a two-piece black body glove. Wrrl wouldn't fit inside the body glove, let alone the field. "Your excellency, he's too big," she translated. "The field nodes maximize at one point eight six meters of height and one meter of width."
Moff Keriloth lifted a narrow black eyebrow. "I'att, tell me again why your grandchild attends classified demonstrations."
Tinian bristled. She might be small and thin, but she was no child. Hadn't Keriloth noticed her company jumpsuit?
Grandfather laid a warm hand on her arm. "Your excellency, Tinian is an invaluable team member. She has amazing instincts for explosives."
One stormtrooper stood at the center of the second seating row up. "Sir," he said through his helmet filter, "if the Wookiee's too tall, what about her?"
Tinian blanched. Her ... demonstrate? Stand in the wave trap and get shot at?
"From one extreme to the other," quipped Keriloth. "Invaluable team member, is she?"
Grandfather backed toward a code panel. From this wall, he could lower two quadruple-transparisteel blast walls between the wave trap and the four broad rows of retractable shielded seating. "Ah ... yes, but Tinian is not our demonstration volunteer."
Keriloth shifted his weight. "She would fit. Are you totally confident that your armor is impervious to blaster fire?"
"Totally," murmured Grandfather.
"Then prove it."
"But ... no. I shall call for a line droid."
"I perceive a certain lack of confidence." Moff Keriloth directed the taunt at his stormtroopers, but Tinian took it in the gut. Grandfather and Grandmother must reach that offworld health care facility. Love focused Tinian's courage, and so did her hopes. The field worked. She'd seen it tested.
"Grandfather?" She raised a hand. "I'll volunteer."
Grandfather, Grandmother, and Daye stepped forward, speaking simultaneously: "Wait — " "Tinian — " "No — "
Wrrl blinked huge blue eyes and suggested under his breath that Daye was built more like a stormtrooper than she was.
Tinian fixed Moff Keriloth with her stare. She was betting he'd act like a BlasTech Company bureaucrat she'd once met at a party — once he'd suggested something, no other idea would suit him.
Keriloth's smile spread slowly from his thin lips to cold, dark eyes. "Very good, ah, Tinian. A true trial of I'att Armament's excellence."
Before Tinian could change her mind, she dragged Wrrl to the arming table. "Help me," she ordered him.
Her jumpsuit would easily fit inside the black body glove. She also selected the upper-body corselet, the carapace and the breastplate, which armorers dubbed the Body Bucket when worn together. She shoved them at Wrrl. Rear-mounted on the carapace, in place of the usual instrument pack, I'att Armament droids had installed a heat dissipator and the field transmitter. A single new control stood out on the breastplate.
She slipped off her shoes and slid one leg into the body glove. She'd never heard so much silence. "Grandfather," she suggested, "explain how the body glove enhances the field."
"Tinian," Grandfather pleaded.
The glove's leggings sagged on her with wrinkles all down their length. She yanked her narrow jumpsuit belt out of its loops and secured the heavy black fabric. "I've memorized the speech," she insisted. "Should I deliver it?"
Moff Keriloth rested his swagger stick on one shoulder. "Please do," he purred.
Suddenly she disliked him. Daye had always insisted that he'd rather die in a noble cause than earn his living from an ignoble one, and she hoped this was only her nerves, whining out from the spot where she was stuffing them (to keep Daye from trying to stop her), that made Keriloth look suddenly sinister.
Daye was sensitive to an energy field he called the Force. He claimed that Force-sensitive was not a healthy way to be in Emperor Palpatine's New Order, and he'd cautioned Tinian and her grandparents that the Empire had stooped to violent repression in other parts of the galaxy ... but Tinian didn't believe it. I'att Armament had supplied the New Order for years, profiting handsomely.
She shrugged into the body glove's top. As she smoothed loose black fabric over the floppy mess at her waist, she drew a deep breath. "The protective field produces anti-energy bursts just out of phase with blaster fire," she began. "Zersium flecks that we've bonded into the advanced body glove —" Tinian pushed up one slack sleeve and ran the back of her hand over the other forearm "— amplify the field. We see that as a key element of this new system —"
"The entire system has too often proved vulnerable." Keriloth's voice rose. "Eight years ago, I had a stormtrooper escort shot to pieces around me. I've dragged this ever since." He whacked his left leg with the swagger stick. "Are you comfortable in there, child?"
I'm not a child. "I'm fine." She squared her shoulders. "I'm sorry about your leg. May I finish?"
He swung the swagger stick. "By all means."
"We have thus eliminated weak spots," she said, "long known to insurrectionist elements. I'm ready, Wrrl."
Her Wookiee lifted the breastplate and carapace. Grandmother Augusta folded trembling hands in front of her long green robe. Daye took up a position behind Tinian. If she hesitated or even flinched, she guessed he'd demand to wear the armor.
She hefted the carapace. "There is insulation and a heat dissipator built into this piece," she explained, raising the back protector so Moff Keriloth and his escorts could see inside it. A black sleeve flopped down to cover her other palm. She pushed it up, bunching fabric back toward her elbow. "For the microsecond it takes for the field to reach full efficiency, the armor itself handles heat absorption. Insulation, plus this dissipator, almost eliminate thermal discomfort."
"Allegedly." Keriloth sounded sarcastic.
Tinian decided that she'd never please him except by demonstrating the product. Then he'd be impressed. Then he'd grant I'att Armament the most lucrative contract it'd ever earned. Thousands of stormtroopers would need this coverage. "Help me, Wrrl."
Wrrl fitted the corselet to Tinian's back and front, clamping it together at her shoulders. Tinian trusted Wrrl completely. Five years ago, she'd spotted him being beaten by a slave dealer. Bloody bunches of fur had littered the ground around the huge alien. Tinian — barely twelve — had dashed forward, disregarding Grandmother Augusta's protests (she could always move faster than either grandparent). She'd saved the creature's life. Little had she known that in rescuing Wrrl, she'd bought loyalty-to-the-death.
The shell pieces hung out over her shoulders. Tinian wriggled until they balanced.
Daye picked up the shoulder pauldrons, clasping them between long, sensitive hands. "Put these on, too," he murmured. The gray streak arched higher than the rest of either of his eyebrows. According to Druckenwell's strict population laws, she and Daye were too young to marry until they proved financial independence. Slender and bookish-looking with lively brown eyes, Daye had come to Il Avali to make a life for himself.
He was now officially Tinian's Second Undersupervisor and the very center of her life. She let him attach the pauldrons over her shoulders. They dangled to cover her elbows, enclosing her upper body with a loose, ill-fitting box. Field conduits clacked against each other when she turned toward Daye. If only she could reassure him — "I know why you're doing this." He leaned close and stared down at her. "I don't like it, but I understand. No one ever calls you a coward and gets away with it." He squeezed her forearm. "Force be with you, love."
As he backed away, Tinian rotated a control on the breastplate. The first time she'd seen this field demonstrated, she'd worried at this point. The field didn't hum, buzz, sparkle, or even glimmer.
"Grandfather?"
As if awakening from the dead, he raised a small luma. Tinian held out her arm to one side. He switched on the luma. No bright spot appeared on her sleeve.
"As energy encounters the anti-energy field," Grandfather said, regaining his voice, "the field responds and cancels it. We're now certain the field is operating."
"Ready, Tinian?" the Moff asked. His voice was as bland as if he were inviting her to sit down for lunch instead of ordering her out in front of a firing squad.
Tinian stalked to the wave trap, feeling ridiculous inside the enormous bucket, pauldrons, and body glove. Built like a pocket at one end of the spacious demonstration room, the wave trap's baffled duracrete walls and floor angled together to absorb unthinkable bursts of energy. Tiny shadowed pits in its walls gave evidence of past demonstrations.
At least she couldn't smell the room anymore. Even without a helmet, the odor had stopped registering several minutes ago.
Daye stood close to the barricade, frowning. She drew up tall — for her height — and barely smiled across at him. Wrrl edged toward the code panel.
Keriloth swept his swagger stick toward three stormtroopers. "You three. Rifles," he snapped. They marched forward. Daye held both hands down at his sides. Usually, he kept one or both casually tucked in a pocket.
Tinian stared at the blast rifles. Those weren't the shiny new factory items she generally dealt with.
Daye glared at the nearest stormtrooper.
"Ready," snapped the Moff. Three rifles lifted. "Aim for weak spots."
Keriloth turned to eye Tinian. His lip curled. Evidently he enjoyed watching the I'att contingent sweat.
She knew that the armor worked. But staring down three rifle shafts, she momentarily lost control of her panic.
Instantly, Daye's face reflected her fear. He spun toward the trooper and tentatively reached for his rifle.
"Now," Keriloth ordered.
Three vermilion energy beams whizzed at Tinian's chest. She flinched, but she couldn't dodge quickly enough. Heat flashed over her back and shoulders despite the bucket's extra insulation. Daye froze and stared, stricken.
"Cease fire." Keriloth twirled his swagger stick.
Tinian straightened back up, let out her breath, then smiled weakly at Daye. The sale was as good as made. She'd done it, though she wished she hadn't tried to duck.
Daye thrust a hand into his pocket and frowned. Her momentary panic had probably jabbed him deeper than it'd frightened her.
Keriloth slipped a comlink out of his belt sheath. "Squads three, four, and five: seal entrances. No traffic or communication off grounds."
"Excuse me?" Grandfather stepped forward, obviously as confused as Tinian abruptly felt. "Sir, what is the meaning of this?"
Moff Keriloth tapped Grandfather's shoulder with his swagger stick. "Congratulations, I'att. I am buying your product."
"You sealed our entrances."
Keriloth clasped his hands at the small of his back. "It would be unfortunate if insurrectionist elements learned that we'd found a way to make stormtrooper armor invincible, would it not?"
We found a way? Tinian silently protested.
Grandmother Augusta glided forward, rustling her robes. "Our security has always been unparalleled, Moff Keriloth. You need have no fear concerning our —"
"Naturally, then," continued Moff Keriloth, "you understand that everyone who has worked above certain levels on this project must return with me to the Doldur system. This item must be manufactured under strictly regulated conditions. The New Order controls Doldur right down to food prices. It is the safest world for advanced military manufacturing."
It's your turf, Tinian realized. You want this manufactured where you can watch.
Grandfather's eyes narrowed. "I am sorry, but this family cannot travel. Augusta needs medical care."
Tinian fingered the black body glove's sleeve selvage. "After all these years of hard work, they deserve peaceful retirement," she protested. "Daye and I are prepared to run the plant. We'll ... " She hesitated, then plunged on. It was the only way. "We'll go to Doldur with you. But Grandfather and Grandmother are retiring to Geridard."
"No," said Keriloth. "You will return to Doldur with me. All of you."
"Sir," Augusta spoke up, "I apologize for making things difficult, but our application for the Geridard Convalescent Center has already been processed. We've advanced them 90,000 credits for life care."
Keriloth turned away. He tilted his chin as if rereading the I'atts' requests off the ceiling. When he pivoted back around, his condescending smile had returned. "You will not travel to Doldur? I cannot convince you?"
"Unfortunately, sir, it's impossible." Strephan folded his arms over his black uniform's decorated breast.
"Perhaps not so unfortunate. That enables me to dispose of your retirement and health worries simultaneously." Keriloth swung his swagger stick at the nearest stormtrooper. "Take them both."
Before Tinian understood, the stormtrooper whipped up his blast rifle and fired twice. Grandfather Strephan tumbled to the duracrete. Augusta gasped before she collapsed over Strephan.
They didn't move again. Too shocked to protest, Tinian covered her mouth with both hands. Daye bent his knees, ready to lunge. "Why did you do that?" he whispered.
Keriloth angled his swagger stick like a weapon at Daye's chest. "I'll let you youngsters in on a secret," he announced. "I have been sponsoring research into this type of anti-blaster energy field on Doldur. Emperor Palpatine will be most grateful when I present this invention as my own ... with all the uncooperatives out of the way.
"You do wish to cooperate?" he asked blandly.
Grandfather! Grandmother! Stunned by her grief and horror, Tinian had to survive ... to avenge them. She nodded. Say yes! she mentally begged Daye.
He straightened slowly, but he didn't speak.
Keriloth shrugged. "Binders for the boy," he ordered another trooper. "How long and how comfortably you live, boy, will depend on how well you cooperate." He stressed the word again.
Daye adjusted his stance, turning both feet out slightly. One trooper reached into a utility-belt compartment. Tinian glanced from the trooper to Daye. Daye eyed the trooper. Daye had learned some self-defense from Wrrl. He could move faster than anyone expected.
She must create a distraction.
"Wrrl!" she cried. "Help!" She spun around and dashed for the door.
Wrrl's roar frightened even Tinian. He slammed the code panel with one gigantic paw. A transparisteel blast wall plunged out of the ceiling, trapping Keriloth and two stormtroopers on the inside.
But four troopers remained. Wrrl rushed the pair blocking the exit, lifted each by a shoulder, and bashed their helmets together. Tinian sprang through.
"Go left!" Daye shouted behind her. "Wrrl, stay with Tinian!"
Tinian whirled left and tried to run. One of her loose leggings tripped her. Blaster fire whizzed over her head. Wrrl tried to scoop her up with long shaggy arms. Fur shriveled where he touched her.
"Don't!" she cried. The field unpredictably damaged living flesh that touched it. Tinian scrambled to her feet. Wrrl sprinted past a bewildered-looking service droid. She caught a whiff of burned fur. "Daye?" she cried. "Wrrl, where's —"
Wrrl shrieked something about separating the stormtroopers. They reached the lift tube. Tinian jumped onto its floor grid. It didn't activate to carry her upward. "They've shut it off!" she cried. Wrrl stepped in front of her, clearly inviting her to climb onto his back.
There was no other way out of this bottleneck. Tinian switched off the armor field, vaulted up, and clenched her hands in front of Wrrl's throat, hoping nobody shot at them. Singed, matted fur brushed her face. The stormtrooper-sized breastplate dug into her stomach.
Wrrl leaped up the shaft wall, catching enormous claws — she hadn't even known that he had claws! — in its duracrete sides. Powerful muscles rippled under Tinian's hold. She clenched her knees around his sides, trying to keep her weight from choking him.
He dragged his weight and hers up to the main floor. A security droid rolled toward them, four claw-mounted blasters and scanners installed atop a perfectly balanced sphere. It endlessly repeated, "Halt! Drop all weapons! Halt —"
Tinian gulped a deep breath. "Recognition," she shouted over Wrrl's shoulder. Her voice ought to shut it off ...
"Confirmed." The droid spun in place. It retreated, still broadcasting. Daylight shone through the southeastern service door. Another pair of stormtroopers crouched beside it, obviously alerted over Keriloth's comlink. "Freeze," ordered one.
Tinian slid off Wrrl's back and slapped the field control back on. Then she dashed at them, too full of adrenaline to cower or even flinch this time.
While the troopers fired at Tinian, Wrrl sped past her on long, shaggy limbs. He reached them before she did and bodily flung them aside.
She'd never seen a Wookiee's full strength before. He terrified her.
Outside the service door, two energy-fenced conveyors connected the entry with I'att Armament's main receiving area. Wrrl howled encouragement at her.
Tinian leaped onto one conveyor and dashed toward the open spaces and freedom. Fabric flapped around her feet, dangling but giving her feet some protection. She grabbed a fistful of loose fabric above each knee and pulled up. That helped a little, but she couldn't bend her elbows far enough to do any real good.
She jumped off the conveyor onto gray duracrete. A three-meter wall surrounded the complex, surmounted by a catwalk with heavy gun emplacements. When Tinian glanced up, her heart sank. Five stormtroopers dashed along the top of the wall, three from the north and two from the west, converging on the corner ahead of her and Wrrl.
Then she remembered her good-luck piece. "Wait!" she cried. She dug down through layers of clothing and extricated a small hunk of chepatite impact explosive. She'd picked it up the first day Grandfather (her mind spasmed in pure, illogical grief: Grandfather!) had let her work a full shift. A silly souvenir and dangerous, maybe, but she couldn't fling it hard enough to set it off.
Wrrl could. "Take this," she exclaimed. "Throw it — there." She pointed at the big corner gun. Two troopers aligned its sights on her and the Wookiee. "Then duck."
Wrrl bared his teeth, seized the explosive, and hurled it. Sweat trickled down Tinian's chest. She was roasting —
Dust, grit, and duracrete boulders blasted in all directions. A gap appeared beneath where the gun had been. Tinian sprinted toward it. Her shoulders and back flashed hot again. More troopers must have rushed in behind her.
The rubble pile was almost two meters high. Wrrl urged her to hurry.
Tinian yanked the bunched fabric and scrabbled upward. "How bad — are — you hurt?" she gasped.
He growled defiance.
"Wrrl — you need — a medic —"
He tossed his head and kept running.
Tinian scrambled over the top. A laser blast whizzed off her right pauldron. That blast came from outside the wall! She flung herself backward into Wrrl's arms.
Wrrl yipped surprise. Had she singed him again?
He shoved her aside, grabbed a duracrete boulder, and heaved it down at the outside trooper. Then he woofed gently at Tinian, urging her out.
A blast from behind struck him. He howled.
"Are you all right?" Tinian cried.
He gurgled and pointed outside the wall.
"Not without you!"
Disregarding the armor field, he cuffed her with a huge paw. Tinian jumped down the rubble pile, spun around, and glanced up. Wrrl stood framed by the gap. Another bolt caught him in his side. He screamed and turned full around, then lurched toward the stormtroopers inside the enormous guard wall.
Grief-stricken and stumbling with every other step, Tinian dashed across a weedy field that surrounded I'att Armament. This was a secure area, maintained in case of internal disaster ... and to enable guard wall staff to watch incoming traffic.
Why weren't they chasing her? Had Wrrl stopped all of them?
Wearing heat dissipation armor, she'd shine like a beacon to IR sensors. It would be easy to tag her with heavy weaponry. Moff Keriloth was probably calling over to Il Avali Spaceport right now.
How could she have been so wrong about the Empire? When had it changed?
At the weed field's edge, dilapidated duracrete buildings formed a toothy perimeter. Tinian slapped off the field projector and stumbled toward an abandoned warehouse. Its door hung askew. Two maybe-Human derelicts scrambled deeper into shadows inside.
Tinian tried to imagine what they'd seen: the top half of an armless, unhelmeted stormtrooper? She pushed away from that warehouse and ran two more turns around bends in the alleys, but didn't find any better cover.
She shoved the flapping armor pieces up over her head, then shed the black glove like an old reptile skin. She was about to abandon it when a thought bigger than fear struck her: Moff Keriloth wanted this protection field badly enough to kill for it. She must use it to hurt Eisen Keriloth.
She dug her utility vibro-knife out of another jumpsuit pocket. Painstakingly she sliced vital components off the breastplate — three electronic c-boards, controls, conduits — then the carapace — insulation, plus the projector itself.
Overhead movement snagged her peripheral vision. A silent repulsorcraft sped over the warehouse row.
Tinian shrank into the nearest building's shadow. She stuffed everything small into her pocket along with her vibro-knife. Then she bundled the rest of the vital parts together. Dashing barefoot around the next corner, she stepped on something sharp and almost fell into a rubbish heap ready for droid pickup.
That gave her another idea. Limping, she hurried back to the debris she'd left. She scooped shell fragments into the body glove and flung them behind the rubbish, safer from detection. Then she limped deeper into Il Avali's bad quarter.
Happy's Landing must be nearby. She and Daye had visited the ale house several times, thinly disguised in working-class coveralls, looking for good music and flamingly spicy food. Luck and adrenaline got her there after only one wrong turn. She paused in the doorway, then plunged into its dark interior without giving her eyes time to adjust. It sounded nearly vacant. Late afternoon had never been Happy's busy hour.
She tripped over a bench. Nobody protested, so it must be vacant. She sank down, exhausted and ashamed. She had to get off Druckenwell, the only world she'd ever known.
But how? And ... alone? Daye would meet her here, if he could. She swallowed on a parched throat. Mustn't use her credit account. She dug into a third jumpsuit pocket and found a few credit tokens worth a cold glass of Elba water. She dropped them onto the table.
Then she pillowed her sweaty forehead on her arms and tried to think. She couldn't've gotten this far unless Keriloth had sent most of his troopers chasing Daye. Therefore, Daye must be a prisoner. (Her mind writhed again: Daye! Wrrl, oh, Wrrl!)
On second thought, she'd worn the invaluable armor. They'd've all chased her.
No, he'd codeveloped the anti-energy field. They needed Daye alive. Keriloth was undoubtedly tracking them both —
Daye Azur-Jamin flattened on the floor of a narrow service tunnel, scarcely breathing. During his first moments of flight, he'd been clipped by blaster fire halfway down his left thigh. It'd stopped throbbing several minutes ago. Now it simply felt dead.
Three pairs of white boots scurried past, outside the shaft's access panel.
They'd find him sooner or later.
Daye dragged himself past the panel, deeper toward the center of I'att Armament.
Using his tiny comlink, he'd monitored Eisen Keriloth's command frequency. Poor Wrrl had paid off his life debt in full, and enabled Tinian to elude pursuit, but Keriloth — who'd escaped his transparisteel cage by talking a trooper through code permutations — had ordered repulsorcraft. They'd catch Tinian quickly unless he could divert them.
Daye's comlink also let him follow stormtrooper teams as they hunted him. Keriloth had ordered all personnel off factory grounds — he meant to use IR scanning, and fewer warm footprints inside the factory would help.
It would be a race, then. I'att Armament's power grid lay under a force shield, open to the sky; the plant was built around it like a vast open square. In half an hour, Daye could crawl to the main power station. In two minutes more, he could backfeed the force shield into the power grid. That would take out the whole factory. Daye had hesitated to endanger innocent bystanders, but Keriloth was clearing bystanders away.
He probably wouldn't escape. But at least Eisen Keriloth wouldn't steal I'att Armament's anti-energy field — Daye and Strephan's own brainchild — and get away with it.
No one would ever know what Daye had done, either, except Tinian. She knew him too well.
The thought made him smile. He crawled on.
"Why, hello, Princess Tinian."
Momentarily terrified, Tinian flung herself upright. She breathed again when she saw two familiar people standing over her. Happy's Landing's current torch singer, Twilit Hearth, wore a scandalous, shimmering sapphire-blue gown. Twilit's mate, Sprig Cheever, sported a short, neat goatee and nondescript clothing. He set a glass of Elba water in front of her.
Tinian dashed tears away from her eyes and guzzled it.
Twilit touched her shoulder. "Hey. Hey, what's wrong?"
"I — " Tinian gulped. She needed allies, and Daye — deft reader of strangers' intentions — had liked these two. (Where was he?) "I've got to hide. I'm in big trouble."
"Hey, it couldn't be that ba — "
"Stormtroopers. They've shut down the factory."
"No," whispered Twilit. "Where's ... you know, your prince?"
"I don't know," Tinian groaned.
Twilit seized Tinian's elbow. "Come with me. There's no time to lose."
Twilit pulled her through a dark, cluttered hallway behind the kitchen, then up one flight of stairs to a cramped little dressing-sleeping room.
"Twilit, thanks," Tinian objected, "but they'll search up here." She laid her valuables under an old boot rack, then startled. She'd sliced three c-boards off the control panel. Now she had only two.
"We'll hide you in plain sight." Twilit grabbed a shimmering red gown. "But we've got to move fast. Put this on."
She'd dropped one c-board! Concentrate, Tinian. First you've got to survive. Tinian eyed Twilit's curves, then glanced down her size-one jumpsuit. "Twilit, it won't — "
"You've only got minutes," said the singer. "Are you going to walk into their gunsights wearing that uniform?"
Tinian skinned out of her jumpsuit and yanked up the extravagant gown. To her shock, padding slid into position over all the right places. The singer was no more voluptuous than Tinian, not in the flesh. She glanced into the room's only mirror. Her face and someone else's body looked out.
"Not bad," said the singer, "but we can do better." She spun a pair of shoes across the floor toward Tinian and rummaged in a tattered duffel. "I assume you can sing."
"Not like you." Tinian gratefully pulled on one shoe. Too big, but it would protect her throbbing foot.
"Most Imperials wouldn't know a song sparrow from a cloud crupa. You know all my songs, I've watched your lips move." Twilit opened a jar and smeared something onto Tinian's face. Tinian submitted to several layers of paint and a rapid, hair-pulling fluff job before Twilit announced, "Break's over, Princess. Get down there and show your stuff."
Tinian eyed the mirror again. Only the stranger looked out at her now. "Why are you doing this?" she asked. The stranger's lips moved when she spoke.
Twilit's face appeared beside the stranger's. Fire blazed in Twilit's blue eyes — the same shade as her own, Tinian realized. "The Empire and I had a disagreement four or five systems ago," Twilit answered. "Now get down there."
"But you —"
"I'm deathly ill. Couldn't sing another note for at least an hour. Go. Cheeve and Yccakic'll help."
Tinian tottered down the steps. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could make out the ale house's interior. Two Human customers sat at one table, a lone Devaronian at the bar. On a clear, triangular stage raised above table level, Sprig Cheever crouched cracking his knuckles over the black, white, and green keys of a KeyBed that almost enclosed him. The other sentient band member, a Bith named Yccakic, plucked his Bottom Viol's five strings as he adjusted buttons along its tall upright neck. Redd Metalflake, the group's self-contained droid sound system, sat behind them audibly tweaking his circuitry.
"I'm ... singing?" Tinian croaked. "Twilit feels poorly."
Cheever grinned down through the stage at her. "That'll work."
Tinian climbed up to stand beside him. He played two chords she recognized, and she launched into "All I Can Ever Do" with all the guts she could muster. Now that she'd slowed down, she could only think of Daye. How could she sing, with Daye in terrible danger ... if he was alive?
Without warning, two stormtroopers sprang through Happy's front door. Tinian gulped. She covered the beat she'd missed by ad-libbing a lyric. One trooper glanced at her. Immediately he swiveled away. She felt relieved ... and hurt, too. Was she that unattractive in real life?
The troopers bustled from table to table. Just as they vanished into the kitchens, a seismic rumble rocked the ale house. Patrons slid under tables. Tinian flailed, trying to grab something, and connected with Yccakic's arm. "Off the stage!" Cheever commanded. Yccakic laid down his Viol and towed her down clear, narrow stairs, then out into the dusk-darkening street.
Three gargantuan fireballs lit the northern sky, rising under low clouds precisely where I'att Armament had stood.
Both stormtroopers dashed out of Happy's Landing. Passing without a backward glance, they sprinted up the street. A customer who'd followed Yccakic outdoors saluted the fireballs with a raised fist. "Down the rich!" he hooted. "Down the Empire! Up anarchy!"
"Hey," burbled Yccakic. "You okay, kid?"
Tinian's ears sang. Her vision blacked out from the edges inward. She collapsed in a heap.
A beefy stranger stumbled into Happy's Landing near dawn. Tinian, still masquerading as Twilit, drooped on a bench close to Cheever. The stranger demanded a TrooperBreath, downed the chartreuse glassful, then looked around for company. Spotting Tinian and Cheever, he wobbled over. "That oughta help. I've been hunting and lifting all night," he declared.
"What's up?" Cheever set a hand casually on Tinian's shoulder. "I just spent four hours slaving for the Empire. The head trooper rounded up all the muscle he could find out on the streets."
"What for?"
"He had us searching I'att Armament ... or the crater that usedta be I'att Armament ... for survivors."
The ale house spun around Tinian.
"Find any?" Cheever squeezed her shoulder.
The bulky newcomer shook his head. "The Big Moff's speeder was the smallest wreckage we could identify. Other than that, nothing. Totality. Looked like an inside job to me." He burped, then grinned toothily. "Some brave, suicidal lunatic musta wanted to take it away from the Empire pret-ty badly." He raised a glass in wordless tribute.
Tinian stared. Daye, gone? All that promise ... broken?
Not only Daye, but Grandfather, Grandmother, and Wrrl. All her life.
She lost track of time after that. Some hours later, the band held council upstairs over the kitchens. "Time to leave Druckenwell." Cheever draped his long legs over a packing crate. "This place is too hot for me."
"Me, too," put in Twilit.
"We'll never get away," lamented a metallic monotone. Cheever had lugged Redd Metalflake upstairs and set the boxy sound droid on a stretch of floor. "Everyone picks on musicians."
Twilit folded her arms. "We'll go," she said firmly. "The last time we ignored Cheever, we nearly lost our instruments in an apartment fire. Is somebody onto us, Cheeve?"
"Not yet."
Tinian barely listened. She was in shock. Nothing will ever touch me again. Nothing. No one. Ever.
Yccakic flicked a series of folds around his tiny mouth. "Has anyone looked up outside? We've got a blanket of repulsorcraft sitting over Il Avali. Security will be double; at customs, triple. And we promised Tinian —"
"We'll make it," Cheever predicted.
Twilit cleared her throat. "Fix my ID for her. I'll lie low here for a few days."
Cheever raised an eyebrow.
Twilit shrugged. "If Comus can make my ID cover Tinian, he can run me a dupe, easy. I'll be okay."
Cheever stroked his short beard. "That'll work. But Princess, about that ... luggage of yours. I don't think we can risk taking it out through Imperial Customs."
That cracked Tinian's introspection. Even with a c-board missing, those pieces might help someone recreate the anti-energy field. "Wait," she begged. "The customs people will have no idea what your instruments are supposed to look like ... right?"
Twilit shrugged. "They're musical morons," she agreed. "What are you driving at?"
"It's already in pieces," Tinian answered. "Attach them to your instruments."
Cheever stroked his goatee. "Ye-es," he drawled. "I can fit most of it to look like it's part of the KeyBed's insides."
"I'm good for a c-board or two," proclaimed Redd. A touch of reverb added confidence to his voice.
Tinian wondered if she were going crazy. She didn't care if she lived or died, but she must get that field transmitter out through customs. "Couldn't you get it off Druckenwell safer without me? If they catch me trying to pass Twilit's ID, it's the spice mines for all of us."
Affectionately, Twilit mussed Tinian's hair. "We know good people offworld," she said. "People who can use that stuff against the Empire. They'll want to talk to the I'att Princess. Guaranteed."
A door slammed. "She was there, all right," declared Woyiq.
Daye shuddered. The huge, beefy man's voice jabbed daggers through his injured head.
The other human — or was he a Gotal? Daye's eyes wouldn't focus — turned to shush Woyiq. "Hey, keep it down!"
"Sorry." Woyiq slunk toward Daye's bedside. "Sorry." The huge Human had dragged Daye out from between jagged duracrete slabs, laboring in near-total darkness at the bottom of Il Avali's deep new crater. "Really, I'm sorry —"
Daye squeezed his attendant's hand. "Did you —"
"Wait," said the ... yes, with horns like those it had to be a Gotal. "Get over here, you big battlewagon."
Woyiq shuffled even closer.
"You found her?" Daye whispered. "She's all right?"
The beefy man laid a hand on Daye's synthflesh-bandaged shoulder. Both of his legs had been crushed, too, and one hand ... and they didn't dare carry him out to a medic. "She was at Happy's Landing, hanging out with the band. You guessed it right."
Daye swallowed. Even that small movement hurt. "Did you — "
"I told her we found no survivors. She — "
"Thanks. Thanks, both of you." Daye shut his eyes. He couldn't bear to hear how Tinian had taken the news of his alleged death, not yet. He half wished he could dissolve his body into nothingness and turn Woyiq's fatal pronouncement into fact.
But evidently the universe had spared him ... most of him ... for a while. He couldn't drag Tinian into the furtive existence he meant to lead now. Woyiq and his Gotal accomplice promised to sponsor him straight to the Rebellion as soon as Il Avali calmed down. The Rebellion needed his talents. They might be able to fix him up, too ... somewhat.
In the meantime, he had decided it had to be kinder to let Tinian think him dead. She'd leave Druckenwell. Witty and capable, she'd make a new life.
He would never love anyone else, though. "Good-bye, Tinian," he murmured toward the wall. "May the Force be with you."
Customs bustled, quadruple anything Tinian had ever seen — but they passed, just as Cheever predicted. Tinian followed him up a stale passageway into the transport's fourth-class hold. They found seats close to Yccakic's. Redd rode in the cargo hold, guarding the doctored instruments.
Tinian slumped down, glad this hold had no viewport. No last glimpse of Druckenwell would linger in her memory.
Alone in the galaxy except for two virtual strangers and an armload of illicit electronics, she'd find some way to help bring down the New Order. Every time she hurt Palpatine's Empire just a little bit, she'd dedicate that small victory to the memory of Daye Azur-Jamin and the life they could have had.
Force be with you, love. Leaning back, Tinian squeezed tears out of her eyes and braced for takeoff.
Roleplaying Game Statistics
Tinian I'att
Type: Young Heiress
DEXTERITY 3D+1
Blaster: hold-out blaster 5D, dodge 4D, grenade 4D+1, running 4D+2
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Alien species 4D+2, bureaucracy 5D+2, business 6D, languages: Wookiee 6D+1, streetwise 3D+2, survival 4D, value 4D+2, willpower 4D+2
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 3D+2
Bargain 6D, command 6D, con 4D, hide 4D+2, persuasion 5D+2, search 6D, sneak 4D+1
STRENGTH 2D
Climbing/jumping 3D+2, stamina 4D
TECHNICAL 4D
Computer programming/repair 5D+1, demolition 7D+2, droid programming 5D, droid repair 4D+2, security 6D
Special Abilities:
Explosives Expertise: Tinian is especially knowledgeable about explosives, including their composition, construction and applications. She gets a +1D bonus to any skill rolls involving explosives.
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 10
Move: 10
Equipment: Bits of fuse wire, vibro-knife (STR+1D), 23 credits
Tinian is the 17-year-old granddaughter of Strephan and Augusta I'att and is the heiress of the I'att Armament corporation on Druckenwell. Since growing up in the I'att Armament tradition, she served in almost every capacity at the company's chief research and production facility in Il Avali. Tinian worked on droid programming, material procurement, line inspections, quality control and even security. Through her involvement in I'att Armament, she gained an intimate knowledge of the workings of explosives, including the ability to identify certain explosive compounds by texture and odor.
Although her grandparents loved her dearly, Tinian found it hard to relate to them. Likewise, her Wookiee bodyguard Wrrl could not give her the Human touch and empathy she needed. Tinian completely opened herself to Daye Azur-Jamin, a promising supervisor at I'att Armament's facility in Il Avali. The two quickly became friends and aspired to someday marry when they achieved financial independence.
Tinian is a hard worker who knows the value of fun and leisure time. She and Daye often disguised themselves as members of Druckenwell's worker class to frequent Il Avali's ale halls, enjoying the spicy food and taking in the upbeat music.
However, Tinian's spirit was torn when Moff Keriloth tried to seize I'att Armament's prototype personal shield device. With her grandparents and her Wookiee bodyguard dead, and believing Daye to have been killed in the ensuing explosion, Tinian has turned cold — her ability to open herself up to others as she did with Daye is gone. She considers herself completely alone in the galaxy, overshadowed by her own grief.
With the help of Twilit Hearth's band, Tinian hopes find and join the Rebel Alliance. Armed with the pieces of the personal shield system she managed to retrieve and her knowledge of explosives, Tinian has set off into the galaxy to exact her revenge against the Empire.
Daye Azur-Jamin
Type: Young Intellectual
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D+2, blaster: hold-out blaster 5D, brawling parry 4D+2, dodge 5D+2, grenade 4D, melee combat 5D, melee parry 4D+2
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Alien species 4D+2, bureaucracy 6D, business 5D+2, languages 4D+1, streetwise 6D, survival 5D+1
MECHANICAL 2D+1
Beast riding 4D, repulsorlift operation 3D+2, starship shields 4D
PERCEPTION 4D
Bargain 6D+1, command 5D+2, hide 7D, persuasion 4D+2, search 6D+1, sneak 7D
STRENGTH 2D+2
Brawling 5D, climbing/jumping 4D+2, stamina 5D+2
TECHNICAL 3D
Computer programming/repair 5D, demolition 6D, droid programming 4D+2, droid repair 5D, first aid 4D, repulsorlift repair 3D+2, security 5D
Special Abilities:
Force Skills: Control 1D, sense 2D
Control: Control pain
Sense: Life detection, magnify senses
Force Sensitive: Yes
Force Points: 3
Character Points: 12
Move: 10
Equipment: Comlink, datapad
Daye Azur-Jamin is a youthfully lean young man who cares deeply for Tinian I'att. The two intended to get married when Tinian inherited her family's armaments corporation on Druckenwell — but that was before the Empire stepped in and changed their lives.
Daye worked diligently for I'att Armament and quickly rose through the corporate ranks from lowly worker-class assembly droid maintenance technician all the way to Tinian's Second Undersupervisor. He also quickly became Tinian's friend, as he perceived her to be lonely in her management position and her life with her grandparents.
Daye is sensitive to the Force. Although he does not know how to completely control the Force, he has felt faint manifestations of it, and it has allowed him to extend his abilities, especially in stressful times. Daye also knows that those who use the Force are considered criminals by the Empire, and keeps his beliefs in the Force to himself and Tinian. The Empire's campaigns against those who use the Force — as well as other rumors of the Empire's abuse of power — have made Daye suspicious of Imperial motives. He has a passionate belief in doing what's right — even if it means putting himself in danger.
Moff Eisen Keriloth
Type: Imperial Moff
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 6D, blaster: hold-out blaster 7D+1, brawling parry 4D, dodge 4D+2, melee combat 4D, melee parry 4D
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Alien species 5D+2, bureaucracy 7D, cultures 5D+1, intimidation 6D, languages 4D+2, law enforcement 5D, planetary systems 6D, streetwise 5D, survival 4D+2
MECHANICAL 2D+1
Astrogation 5D+2, capital ship piloting 4D, communications 4D+1, repulsorlift operation 5D, sensors 4D+2
PERCEPTION 3D+2
Bargain 5D+2, command 7D, con 5D, investigation 6D, persuasion 4D+2, search 5D
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 3D
Computer programming/repair 4D, droid programming 4D+2, droid repair 4D, security 6D
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 10
Move: 9
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), hold-out blaster (3D), comlink, swagger stick
Moff Keriloth is a cunning and ambitious Imperial dictator who will stop at nothing to develop new technology to improve the effectiveness of Imperial stormtroopers. His obsession with improving stormtrooper armor stems from an incident several years ago, when he and his stormtrooper escort were ambushed by Rebels. Precise blaster fire from Rebel snipers killed most of his escort and wounded him in the leg. To this day, Moff Keriloth's limp is a constant reminder of the vulnerability of stormtrooper armor.
Moff Keriloth stalks around with a swagger stick in hand, which he swats about to add to his already oppressive air of authority. His outthrust head hunches over his two-meter tall body — gaunt as a corpse — like an avian carrion feeder waiting for a beast to die.
Enemies of Moff Keriloth are quickly eliminated, as was shown in his recent purge and brutal public execution of a Rebel cell on his sector capital on Doldur. He has no hesitation eliminating competitors for the Emperor's favor, and aggressively takes anything he desires.
Druckenwell
Type: Terrestrial
Temperature: Temperate
Atmosphere: Type I (breathable)
Hydrosphere: Moderate
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Urban, industrial, wetlands
Length of Day: 32 standard hours
Length of Year: 309 local days
Sapient Species: Humans
Starport: Imperial class
Population: 9.3 billion
Planet Function: Manufacturing/processing, heavy industry
Government: Corporate guilds
Tech Level: Space
Major Exports: High-mid technology, manufactured goods
Major Imports: Foodstuffs, raw materials
Druckenwell is a highly industrialized world with distinct classes of workers and corporate elite. Few of the planet's 9.3 billion people live in the countryside — most are members of the worker class living and toiling for industries in the planet's overcrowded cities.
Overcrowding and Druckenwell's emphasis on corporate stability necessitate several social rules which apply to all on the planet. For instance, couples may not legally marry and bear children without first proving financial independence. Long ago cities were planned out with the social and corporate order in mind. Most cities contain specific districts for corporate offices, worker class quarters and services, heavy industry, and park-like rural sections for homes of the corporate elite.
Druckenwell's several large cities and industrial regions are divided by vast oceans — whatever solid land is available was developed centuries ago. The planet's corporate guilds have gone to great lengths to insure that industry does not pollute what few natural resources Druckenwell has — cleansing air, soil and water is now one of the planet's major industries. Other major corporations on Druckenwell serve the defense, computer and transportation industries.
Twilit and the Band
Twilit Hearth and her band travel the space lanes, jumping from one system to the next, taking on whatever gigs they can get. They're not particularly famous, except to the poor locals who frequent the dives they perform in. Twilit's voice is strong and melodious, and her backup from Sprig Cheever on the KeyBed and Yccakic on the Bottom Viol makes for a good, wholesome sound, even after everything's augmented, amplified and processed by Redd Metalflake, the group's antiquated sound droid.
The band rarely settles down. The group hits a planet, plays a few gigs in a city, stays maybe a week, maybe three months, and moves on when everybody has enough money to head off to the next system. Sometimes, however, the band becomes entangled in other activities — most often involving criminal elements or the Empire — and leaves the system for safer prospects.
Since it's always on the move, the band has made good friends and contacts throughout this section of the galaxy. While these might not be the most influential contacts, they are still good to have around when the band gets into a bad situation.
Twilit is a good-natured and caring woman with a beautiful voice. She has a soft spot for those in trouble, and is always willing to help a friend in need. In a time when she herself has little to lose, Twilit makes it her business to help others in need by whatever means she can.
When Twilit performs, she appears to be an attractive woman — her hair styles are grand, her dresses just past the cutting edge of fashion, and her face the dreamy visage of a holovid princess. But without her teased hair, painted makeup and custom, form-padding dresses, Twilit is simply a rather plain woman. Her most beautiful quality is unseen, but can be heard every night when she sings.
Twilit Hearth
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D+2, brawling parry 4D, dodge 5D
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Artist: song 6D, bureaucracy 4D+2, planetary systems 4D+2, streetwise 5D, survival 4D+2
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 3D+2
Con 4D+2, gambling 5D, hide 6D, sneak 6D
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: Hold-out blaster (3D), trunk of fancy clothes and makeup
Twilit's mate, Sprig Cheever, is a slender Human sporting a neatly trimmed goatee. His easy-going nature is shown through his fluid posture. If Cheever isn't leaning on something he's slouching in a chair or comfortably draped over his KeyBed.
While he share's Twilit's concern for others in need, Cheever also thinks through the logistics and implications of Twilit's actions helping others. His first concern is for Twilit, then for the band. He also handles most of the band's business arrangements, although he rarely exhibits too much outward concern about anything.
Sprig Cheever
DEXTERITY 2D
Blaster 2D+2
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Bureaucracy 4D, cultures 4D+2, languages 5D, planetary systems 4D+1, streetwise 5D
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 3D
Con 5D, gambling 4D+2, sneak 4D, musical instrument repair 4D+2
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: musical instrument operation: KeyBed 5D+2, Portable KeyBed
The band's Bottom Viol player is a Bith named Yccakic. He and Redd Metalflake share the distinction of being the worriers of the band. Yccakic is always concerned the group won't make enough credits for passage to the next system, fears his instrument will be damaged in the cargo hold, and wonders if the band should rehearse a few new numbers now and then to keep the show fresh.
Yccakic is also a very good Bottom Viol player, and keeps the bass line and the tempo going for the band's songs. He's also responsible for hooking up Redd Metalflake before each show and fixing the ancient droid whenever he breaks down.
Yccakic
DEXTERITY 2D
Dodge 3D
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Bureaucracy 5D+2, streetwise 5D
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 2D
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 2D
Droid programming 3D+1, droid repair 4D+2
Move: 8
Equipment: musical instrument operation: Bottom Viol 4D, Bottom Viol, droid repair tools
Redd Metalflake helps process the band's music so everything sounds professional. Unfortunately, his ancient speakers and crumbling innards don't always help, and he requires constant maintenance from Yccakic. Redd usually propels himself on a set of malfunctioning treads, but Yccakic has installed a handle on the droid's top side so band members can easily and quickly pick him up and carry him when he lags behind.
Redd Metalflake
DEXTERITY 1D
KNOWLEDGE 1D
MECHANICAL 2D
Communications 3D, sensors 3D
PERCEPTION 1D
STRENGTH 1D
TECHNICAL 1D
Move: 3
Equipment: Can manipulate music and sound wired through him as a skill of 4D
Adventure Idea
The characters hear rumors that somebody escaped from the I'att Armament compound on Druckenwell with an experimental personal shield device before the entire place blew up. The device is rumored to be hidden somewhere in Il Avali's warehouse district between the industrial regions and the worker class quarter.
The characters, as Rebels or free-traders, try to retrieve the device. They comb through Il Avali's warehouses and dilapidated buildings searching for the device and avoiding stormtrooper patrols, the vagrant denizens of the warehouse district, and other competitors seeking the device. The only evidence the device ever existed is a cracked, useless c-board embedded in a junk pile the characters discover beneath a ruined warehouse — the nest of a large sewer predator living in the city's service sublevels.
Sidebar: Now in Paperback!
Look for Bantam's paperback edition of The Truce at Bakura at a bookstore near you.
Kathy Tyers: Personal Influences Affect Bakura
by Ilene Rosenberg
Dentists and dinosaurs once roamed the Star Wars universe. Actually, their terrestrial selves never appeared, but the influence of the dentist, the dino and other subjects of interest to Kathy Tyers can be found in her Bantam novel, The Truce at Bakura.
The Truce at Bakura was this self-described full-time mom's first appearance on the New York Times' hardcover fiction best seller list, but it was not her first science fiction novel. She has also written Firebird, Fusion Fire, Crystal Witness and Shivering World, all of which were published by Bantam Spectra.
Tyers lives in Bozeman, Montana, with her husband, Mark, and their 13 year-old son Matthew. She plays the flute and Irish harp, teaches private flute students and performs and records folk music with her husband.
Q: How were you chosen to write a Star Wars novel? Why do you think Bantam Books and Lucasfilm chose you?
A: My editor at Bantam, Janna Silverstein, has known for a long time that I was a raving Star Wars fan, and when the first book in Tim Zahn's trilogy came out, I leapt on her for an advanced copy.
The fact that I had published four science fiction novels with Bantam Spectra when the contract with Lucasfilm for the next 12 novels became available maybe had something to do with it.
Q: How closely did you have to work with Lucasfilm to do this project? Did you have to work under any restrictions from Lucasfilm? Was there anything you really wanted to do in the story that had to be changed or tossed out completely?
A: I really, seriously, would have liked to have left Luke Skywalker a married man at the end of my novel. Other than that, the restrictions were very straight forward. I could not do anything that would conflict with Timothy Zahn's novels, which take place five years later. Other than that, it was a matter of being given a few guidelines.
I was supposed to write a novel that would take place immediately after the third movie. They asked me to have all of the characters in one place, rather than going off on several different plot-lines. And, they asked me to have the fate of the universe at stake.
I submitted my outline to Lucasfilm. They made a couple of minor changes and sent it back, and I worked from that. When the novel was finished, again it was submitted to Lucasfilm and they asked for a couple of minor changes. But I was happy to make them. They didn't conflict with anything I was really trying to do with my novel, and they helped it tie in that much better with the Star Wars universe. I was pleased to do that.
Q: How did you come up with the novel's plot?
A: When Janna suggested that I do a Star Wars novel, she said that she and another editor who, at that time, was working on the Star Wars series, would call me five days later. She wanted me to have five ideas ready — high concept ideas where you could basically tell the plot of the novel in one sentence.
When I spoke with them again, I had come up with the five concepts. But the one that I liked the best was the idea that there would be an alien menace so terrible that the Empire and the Rebel Alliance would temporarily, in one corner of the galaxy, lay down their conflict and turn to fight the common foe together.
Q: What did you do to prepare yourself for writing a Star Wars tale?
A: I made a big bowl of popcorn and sat down to watch all three videos again for the thirty-somethingth time. Everything that I have done and been and seen in my life has gone into that novel, too. My first degree was in microbiology, and I did some work in parasitology. One of Governor Nereus's other hobbies is alien dentition. My father is a dentist, and I'm up on teeth.
The whole Star Wars mythos is one I'm really comfortable in, so I didn't feel that I had to do any extra work to make the novel that I would write fit in with it. I honestly felt that that was going to be the easy part.
Q: What did you enjoy most about writing The Truce at Bakura?
A: There wasn't a single thing I didn't enjoy. I loved working with Lucasfilm. I loved working on a plot that I would have liked to have been writing for 10 years. When I got the bug to write science fiction, I wanted to write a Star Wars novel. They weren't licensing Star Wars novels back then, so my career took a different course. But maybe, if I had to give a brief answer, it would be finally getting to write a Star Wars novel because I wanted to for so long.
Q: There was nothing that you enjoyed the least about writing your novel?
A: There was one thing I didn't enjoy: I wanted poor Dev to survive. Other than that it was fun from concept all the way through the book signings.
Q: Since The Truce at Bakura came so soon after Return of the Jedi, the only template for your characters was created by George Lucas, although you had to be careful not to disturb future storylines already created by Timothy Zahn, Dark Horse Comics and others. Was it a challenge to write about characters who had a preconceived future?
A: Yes and no. In real life, we have to follow certain guidelines in order to survive. My day is scheduled. I know that on a given school day, my husband and son will show up at 4:30 p.m. and my flute students will show up at 4 p.m. and dinner has to somehow be fixed. Things like that.
So it was very much like simply being alive. There was an endpoint toward which we were aiming, so the characters already existed and had personalities. Walking them through the plot, they surprised me occasionally, but it wasn't difficult to make them function with a reasonable forecast of their future already made.
Q: The Ssi-ruuk may be one of the only things that could force the Empire and the Alliance to work together. Where did you come up with the idea for these heinous reptilians?
A: These "heinous reptilians" are more closely related to dinosaurs than any other species. They're sort of pocket dinosaurs. My son, being 13, has outgrown the dinosaur phase, but we still have a lot of dinosaur books lying around the house. Current scientific theory puts the dinosaurs as closer kin to birds than reptiles. So I made as many of their characteristics bird-like as possible — from the way they balance their bodies to the sound of their speech, it reminded people of bird-song in the bass range.
The idea for them kind of came in from everywhere.
Q: One of the major conflicts in Gaeriel Captison's life pits her interest in Luke against her religious beliefs that Jedi destroy the balance of the universe. How did you come up with this idea?
A: I've had a little bit of that kind of conflict in my life — being an evangelical Christian, I have a number of friends who look askance at me for writing science fiction. But writing in the Star Wars universe, it was a challenge to take the all-encompassing concepts of Jedi Knights and the Force — which seem to take in everything — and try to invent a faith that refuses to be taken in: something that would take the dark side of the Force/light side of the Force concept just a little too far, and become an extreme form of cosmic dualism. This is what Gaeriel follows, the idea of the "cosmic balance:" anytime anybody enjoys any kind of privilege in the universe, they are unconsciously diminishing someone else, whether they know it or not.
Q: Dev Sibwarra is a teen who falls in with the wrong crowd and doesn't realize it until it is almost too late. How did you create the mixed-up Dev?
A: Dev, to me, was the abused character. Both partners in an abusive relationship become addicted: the victim becomes addicted to abuse as much as the abuser becomes addicted to having a victim. So while Dev really would have liked to have gotten away, he was trapped by his own personality as much as he was trapped by being an alien prisoner.
Q: Did you base the politics between the Imperials and the Alliance on any terrestrial events?
A: No. As a matter of fact, politics is really my weak spot. I just let a novel die on my computer because it had too many political ramifications, and I don't enjoy broadcasting my ignorance. I'd rather write about something where I can appear at least reasonably knowledgeable.
Basically, it just came out of little threads from here and there. Reading Will Durant's The Story of Civilization, I got a lot of good ideas for civilizations and how they work.
Q: How did you meet the challenge of creating explosive battles and intense chases worthy of the Star Wars trilogy's name for print?
A: I have written space opera since I started writing science fiction. My first protagonist in my first novel was a female fighter pilot.
One of the cool factors that came together in my life when I started writing was a visit to Bozeman, Montana, by the Air Force Thunderbirds. The minute they flew over my apartment in close formation — six planes basically wing tip to wing tip — I fell head-over-heels for fighter craft. I have studied as much as I could, mostly Air Force jets.
I have a friend who is a retired four-star Air Force general. He's a neat guy and a big technical reader, so he has always given me feedback—whether my flight scenes were actually working, whether people were doing something impossible.
As for making them move quickly, the idea, as far as I'm concerned, is to follow a battle as much as possible from one character's point of view. If I were thrust into a battle, what would I be seeing at every point, what would I be thinking, how scared would I be, and how would I be able to concentrate on what was actually going on? Taking that a step further, now it's not just me in the battle, but it's Luke Skywalker or some other character coming in with all of the training and knowledge and experience he has. How would he react?
I've read up on the Israeli Air Force and recent developments in air-to-air combat. Of course, space combat won't be like air-to-air combat, but it's similar enough that we can take what we know and take it two or three steps farther.
Q: As a woman writer of a Star Wars novel, do you think you to perceive Luke, Han and especially Leia differently than a male novelist would?
A: Perhaps. I might have empathy for certain different shades of situation than a male writer would have. But when it comes right down to writing characters, a good male writer can write good female characters. A good female writer can write good male characters. What you simply have to do is make them human, believably human with strengths and weaknesses and emotional baggage from past events, and hopes and aspirations and goals.
I do a three to four-page character analysis of every main character in all of my novels before I even start writing. So I have to know these characters as well as possible.
Q: How did you use West End Games' roleplaying game sourcebooks as a basis for the Star Wars universe?
A: Bantam sent me a box of basic materials as soon as Janna and I had hung up. I was able to use the correct blue-prints for the Millennium Falcon, for example, or to get an idea of relative speed of the starfighters. I used West End Games' material a lot.
Q: What makes Star Wars a timeless story which can be enjoyed by all generations?
A: Star Wars draws on mythological concepts that go so deep into human nature that there's hardly anyone who can't find something to relate to: the lost sibling, the lost parent, good against evil, coming of age, the passing of the torch from the aged mentor, wanting desperately to end up on the side of the universe that is good. These are common threads of human experience. They lend deep gut-level credence to the Star Wars mythos, so that all of the wonderful human adventure has solid ground to stand on.
Q: What other science fiction projects are you working on?
A: My current novel is a space opera called One Mind's Eye. It is another alien invasion story, but these aliens are significantly different from the Ssi-ruuk. The main character is a young woman who spent two years hardwired into a virtual reality unit. Nobody knows exactly where it came from — or where she came from — when the novel opens.
Q: How is writing for Star Wars different from your other writing?
A: I had to remember that it's okay to use to use other peoples' terms. I had to remember that it's okay to use other peoples' characters. When I'm writing my own material, I have to make a conscious effort to try to be new and different and creative. Writing in the Star Wars universe, it's not only okay, it's accepted and desirable and a lot of fun to take the universe as other people see it and play with it in that way — the gaming material, the movie material, the other writers' novels. Every writer brings in his or her material, otherwise the book wouldn't be worth writing. But, for example, calling the building material transparisteel instead of making up my own term — that's so easy, it's so enjoyable.
Q: Do you have any other plans to write for Star Wars?
A: I have hopes and dreams. I have a piece of short fiction in each one of the three anthologies that Bantam is going to be bringing out: Star Wars: Tales from the Star Wars Cantina, Star Wars: Tales from Jabba the Hutt's Palace, and there's going to be a third anthology on the bounty hunters that Darth Vader sends out hunting Han Solo and the Millennium Falcon. I've been asked to contribute to each of those.
In terms of writing more novels, I have not been asked. I'd love to. I guess that — so far — the people at Lucasfilm have liked what I have written. If there were more Star Wars novels to be had, I'd jump at the chance.
HoloNet Hype
Journal Is A Great Gaming Tool
To the Editor:
I have just recently had a chance to read the Star Wars Adventure Journal. I must tell you that I am very impressed. My friends and I have been roleplaying Star Wars since the first edition came out and this is the greatest tool to date. I am glad that there is now a way to get periodic information on the world of Star Wars for both a gaming aspect and a fan aspect.
I love the format of the Journal. How you have gathered together some of the best authors and created adventure ideas for all time periods; from Star Wars to The Last Command. The interview section is great, too. I really enjoyed the interview with Timothy Zahn. Cracken's Most Wanted updates are a great way to keep up with wondrous new villains for characters to meet.
The Star Wars Adventure Journal is really a great concept. I do have a few questions about future issues though: will we see any sections on new weapons? Will we be exposed to adventures set in the Corporate Sector? Will we receive information on the ever-changing world of the Jedi?
Well, keep up the good work. You have really caught a winner here.
Jon L. Harris, Norman, OK
We're glad you're enjoying the Journal, Jon. It's a lot of work getting so many authors to write various features for the Journal.
What you'll see in future Journals depends on what writers submit. I have a good core of writers working on Journal articles. You'll be able to find new weapons and equipment scattered throughout other Journal articles in each issue. As for adventures set in the Corporate Sector, I haven't seen any proposals for them, but hopefully this letter will encourage a few writers to start some ideas.
The Jedi world seems to be ever-changing, especially with many new novels like Kevin Anderson's Jedi Academy trilogy focusing on the Jedi. However, right now most of our submissions cover the Classic Star Wars period (the time covered by the movies) and the New Republic up to the end of Timothy Zahn's trilogy. There's quite a lot of material in those few years to cover. Right now it's very difficult keeping up to date and keeping track of all the new events and developments created by other authors, both in the novels and the comic books.
Thanks for all your encouraging remarks. I hope the Journal continues to fulfill your expectations and brings you many hours of enjoyment.
Marvel and Miniatures
To the Editor:
Issues #1 and #2 of the Star Wars Adventure Journal were super. The stories were imaginative and well written, especially A Glimmer of Hope and Whispers in the Dark. Your regular features are great, and I really enjoy the miniatures scenarios in Objective Sighted.
One of the biggest chunks of the Star Wars galaxy that you have not adapted is the old series of Marvel Comics. While not all of the issues were terrific, there were some interesting people, creatures and places. If you have the rights, I think it would be neat for you to write up the interesting things from some of the better issues. Maybe in each Journal you could adapt an issue or series of issues.
I have one last request. Could you make miniatures of some of the Journal's repeating characters, such as Alex Winger, Platt Okeefe, and General Cracken?
Keep up the great work.
Matt Simon, Belleville, IL
At this time West End Games is not considering adapting portions of the Marvel Comics Star Wars series for the role-playing game — there are many complications and a lot of material to keep consistent. I'm flattered that you'd like miniatures for some of the Journal's recurring characters.
We'll have to see what we can do about your request — it's certainly a good idea.
Luke, Han and Leia
To the Editor:
I'm writing about your Star Wars Adventure Journal. What a fantastic idea! I have really missed Luke, Han and Leia a lot. Your stories about other characters are nice, but I have to tell you, Luke Skywalker is my main character and if you could do an adventure on Luke and even Han and Leia. They don't have to tie in with the novels that are out and coming. Just whatever Luke is doing is fine!
Keep the Star Wars adventures coming!
Mrs. Jan Robtison, Vinton, VA
Right now Bantam's many novels are relating the adventures of Luke, Han, Leia and the other heroes from the Star Wars films. All these novels fit together — what happens in one might be referred to in another, and certainly might change a character. You'll notice many consistencies within all these novels, even between different authors. That's the way Lucasfilm would like it, and that's the way it should be. It makes the universe and the characters much more authentic.
The Journal is focusing instead on some of the other "heroes" out there. It's our view that the Star Wars universe is a big place, filled with many more heroes than Luke, Han and Leia. Although these other heroic characters affect a much smaller portion of the galaxy, they are still heroes.
Tell Us What You Think!
What do you think of the Star Wars Adventure Journal? What would you like to see? Write a letter to the editor. We might print it in a future HoloNet Hype column! Letters must be signed and should include your name, address and phone number. Letters may be no longer than 200 words.
Send your letters to HoloNet Hype, West End Games, RR 3 Box 2345, Honesdale, PA 18431.
For a guaranteed response, send a self-addressed, stamped envelope with your letter. All material (including letters) published in the Star Wars Adventure Journal becomes the property of Lucasfilm Ltd. Letters are subject to editing for publication.
A selection of newsfeeds culled from NewsNets major and minor throughout the Empire, which may or may not prove to be factual.
35:7:10/CDN/G76D/COR.1.IPC/POL
Rebel Omonda Faces Execution
Imperial City, Coruscant
Canna Omonda, former senator of Chandrila and protege of Mon Mothma, yesterday submitted a written and oral confession in which she admitted to acts of treason against the Empire.
Long known for her fiery rhetoric and abrasive opinions of the Emperor and his policies, Omonda finally tested the tolerance of the Emperor after remarks she made to the media after the Senate was disbanded. Anxious to afford her the opportunity to clear her name and reaffirm her loyalty to the Empire, Emperor Palpatine personally asked her to return to Coruscant for a short interview with High Inquisitor Halmere, and sent an honor escort of three Imperial Star Destroyers to Chandrila to accompany her back to Coruscant.
During a press conference today, Gretta Spinbalio, a spokeswoman for Halmere's office, announced Omonda's confession. According to Spinbalio, Halmere and his aides were quite surprised when Omonda began sobbing shortly into the interview. She went on to confess that she had for some time been passing on to Rebel spies classified information she had access to as an Imperial Senator of a ranking Core World. She also disclosed the names and location of her Rebel contacts (all of whom have been subsequently arrested), and disclosed information regarding the Rebel leadership.
Palpatine was reportedly shocked and upset when informed of this news. "I have always valued Omonda's counsel and advice," he said in his before-dinner remarks at the Palace that evening. "After all, no leader is so wise and great he cannot benefit from criticism. Sadly, while seeing Omonda return to the Imperial fold pleases me, the penalty for high treason is quite specific. However much I may wish to do so, I cannot spare her now and remain true to my pledges to honor law and order above all else. The Empire will miss her." Omonda is scheduled for execution during Fete Week.
Coruscant Daily NewsFeed
Tombat Strikes During Priole Danna Festival
Gryle City, Lamuir IV
The mysterious art and jewel thief known only as the Tombat is once again on the prowl, and has now added the famed antique slug throwers of jatz performer Fitz Roi to his already considerable swag pile of purloined jewels and priceless antiques. He has also added another system to the 22 systems already seeking his arrest and extradition.
Roi, who was enjoying an unexpected vacation after being bounced from his Core-wide Summerside Tour by sponsor Flangth-2-Go, was invited to perform during the annual Priole Danna Festival on Lamuir IV. Soon after arriving, he reported that his two antique pistols were missing from his hotel suite safe. Investigators found a small blue quella stone in the guns' leather holding case. The low-grade gem, found only on Alderaan and Delaya, is the trademark of a Tombat heist.
Inspectors are being close-mouthed about their progress in the investigation, but if the frustration level at Gryle City's Head Precinct is any indicator, promising leads are not in the offing. It looks like the dashing Corellian-born Tombat has done it again.
The guns, dating from the Old Republic's early Manderon Period, are over 6,000 years old. They are said to have been created on Brentaal by Andel Tanner, a prominent inventor of the era. The pair, fully functional, is valued by Callia's at over 12.4 million credits, and have been in Roi's family for centuries. When asked why he traveled with such valuable family heirlooms, Roi responded, "Well, I wouldn't get much feddin' good out of the things hanging on the wall at home, now would I?" The pistols were not insured against theft.
TriNebulon News
35:8:8/CYN/NAR.4.SHD/TRD
Chandrila Faces Uncertain Future
Nar Shaddaa Node
Fast on the heels of the arrest of Chandrila's former Senator Canna Omonda comes news that Palpatine was heard to remark that if sending up two traitors in a row is how Chandrila rewards him for his favor, it might benefit from more direct supervision. Since the wish of the Emperor is the command of his toadies, we strongly suggest that if you have any holdings on Chandrila, you might want to divest yourself of them.
This may come to nothing. The Empire has as a rule been fairly low-key in enforcing its will in the Core. But then there's Ralltiir. And Alderaan. Things may be changing in the Core. Stay alert.
Cynabar's InfoNet
35:8:4/AEN
Alderaan Destroyed by Imperial Terror Weapon
Unspecified Node
This is the first broadcast of the Alderaan Expatriate Network. Our mission is to provide uncensored and reliable news regarding the infamy of the Imperial machine to all citizens of the Republic. Our first duty is to report that all accounts stating that Alderaan was destroyed by her own hand are patently false. She was shattered by an Imperial death machine built by the Emperor and commanded by Grand Moff Tarkin. A remote relay satellite orbiting Delaya recorded the event, and an Alliance operative managed to smuggle the tape out of the system despite the imposition of an immediate Imperial blockade.
Holotapes of Alderaan's destruction, plus transband communications between Alderaan and Delaya regarding the appearance of the battle station, have been forwarded to all Alliance-affiliated NewsNets for further distribution. For those requiring further proof, a holomessage from Imperial Advisor Ars Dangor to all Grand Moffs that makes reference to the Death Star is appended. It was not intended for public distribution, and therefore dispenses with the flowery words of order and law that typify New Order propaganda, and makes an honest appeal for rule through fear and intimidation.
Those who have despaired of putting down the tyranny of the Emperor should find new hope in the knowledge that the Death Star was destroyed by the heroic men and women of the Alliance before it could strike again. AEN urges all freedom-loving citizens to rise up in opposition to the Empire. Your fellow citizens are dying and being enslaved. Fight while you have freedom. We will continue broadcasts on this node as long as possible. Remember Alderaan!
Alderaan Expatriate Network
Has Anyone Seen Solo Lately?
Nar Shaddaa Node
Last reliable thing we heard about Han Solo was that he had offed a two-bit bounty hunter on Tatooine months and months ago. Have he and the Wook dropped into the Maw? We're hearing some awfully strange rumors around here. If anyone runs into Solo, tell him things are heating up plenty quick with Jabba the Hutt. Seems Heater is interviewing bounty hunters. We also noticed Solo's name has appeared in the latest quarterly update of the Imperial Enforcement DataCore. Han, buddy, what have you been up to?
Cynabar's InfoNet
Insect Plague Threatens Bethal's Future
Altoona, Bethal
The greddleback bug infestation on Bethal has grown very serious since the presence of the giant termites on the planet was discovered 12 weeks ago. Steps to contain the swarm to Altoona Prefecture have failed, and over 200 greddleback swarms are now estimated to be migrating across the southern continent at a rate of six kilometers a day, each leaving in its wake a broad swath of devastated vegetation. A swarm is estimated to contain roughly six million of the five centimeter long insects.
The insects pose no direct threat to the populations of affected regions, according to pest control experts, though the swarms are proving to be a major nuisance as they clog air intakes, vents, and infest buildings.
The great danger is to the economy of Bethal. The major export item of the planet is apocia hardwood timber, used primarily in the construction of luxury furniture. Apocia trees are very vulnerable to greddleback attack, and tree farmers worry that this outbreak may utterly devastate their industry for generations to come. "Apocia trees take over 200 years to mature," said Rall Teedra, head of Bethal's Commerce Council. "By planting new saplings every year for future generations, we ensure at least one new harvest every decade. But if the bugs take out our crops at every maturation level, well, there won't be another harvest for at least 300 years. That would pretty much put Bethal out of business.
Pest control experts are considering initiating an aggressive slash and burn program over a 6,000 kilometer area to contain the swarms to the Altoona and Dora Prefectures. This desperate measure is being resisted by farmers in the two regions who have yet to lose their crops, but Bethal AgriCorp, the major planetary cooperative, is reportedly considering the option seriously.
The greddleback bugs are thought to have arrived on planet in an undeclared cargo of hanava fruit carried by a freighter that landed at Altoona Spaceport.
Colonial News Nets
35:8:22/IHV/G76D/COR.1.IPC/POL
Navy Reports Super-Weapon Destroyed Alderaan
Imperial City, Coruscant
The Imperial Navy today announced that a battle station code-named Death Star was responsible for the destruction of Alderaan, and not, as previously had been speculated, an internal rupturing of the planet's crust.
Admiral Kemel Trowe, speaking for NAVCOR Command, said that the station had destroyed Alderaan at the Emperor's command, after the Empire obtained irrefutable evidence that the ostensibly peaceful world had been pursuing an aggressive biowar program. "Obviously, we would have preferred to handle this situation in a far less drastic manner," Trowe said. "But as far as we could determine, Bail Organa's biowar program was on the verge of a major breakthrough. Once we discovered Organa's affiliation with the Rebel movement, we could not allow even one vial of biowar product offplanet. Even now, we cannot be sure that we were in time to prevent the exportation of dangerous microbes and diseases to offworld Rebel cells."
Trowe refused to comment on the current status or location of the Death Star, which is rumored to be either destroyed or somewhere in the Outer Rim. "Peace-loving citizens have nothing to fear from our Empire," he said in closing. "But all should know that worlds which rise to defy the order and law of the Empire have everything to lose, as Alderaan learned to its sorrow. This has not changed."
Imperial HoloVision
Mothma, Organa Appear on Imperial Arrest List
Imperial City, Coruscant
For the first time in Imperial history, two former Imperial Senators have appeared on the Imperial Enforcement DataCore, the listing of wanted criminals released quarterly by the Imperial Office of Criminal Investigations. Senator Mon Mothma of Chandrila and Senator Leia Organa of Alderaan have been positively identified as key figures in the Rebel Alliance command hierarchy. This treasonous crime against the Empire is punishable by death, and those so accused and at large are automatically placed on the Imperial Remandation List.
Mothma, a long-time political enemy of Emperor Palpatine, has never disguised her Rebel sympathies, and resigned her post as representative of Chandrila several years ago, ostensibly to enter a voluntary exile. Instead she disappeared. It has since been discovered that she has spent the last year in clandestine meetings with Bail Organa, Jan Dodonna, Keenal Dene, Bel Iblis (who will likely be joining his co-conspirators on the list soon), and other Rebel leaders, supervising the final transition of their outlaw political party into a paramilitary organization.
Organa was identified as a Rebel conspirator and spy by Darth Vader and arrested, but escaped before she could be brought to trial. She is known to have participated in sabotage efforts and terrorist activities which have resulted in thousands of deaths.
Curiously, Mothma and Organa are among the youngest Senators ever elected to the Imperial Senate.
Imperial HoloVision
Galaxywide NewsNets
35:9:11/GLR/92R#/TIM.3.TAD/LIF/
Timora Sunpetals Make Great Gifts!
Tadarc, Timora
As Fete week approaches, many celebrants are faced with the quarterly quandary of choosing the traditional gift for their business associates. With this year's wonderful bumper crop of sunpetal flowers on Timora, there has never been a better time to purchase an arrangement of these spectacular plants. Sunpetals are only expected to remain at such a low price for the remainder of the season, so make plans to purchase an ample supply of these gorgeous flowers within a few weeks.
Galactic Weekly NewsStack News Flash
Shakeup in the happy Rebel family! With peacekeeper and arbiter Bail Organa orbiting the Alderaan star in several billion pieces, it seems Bel Iblis has had enough of Mon Mothma's ambitions, and has taken leave of his Rebel comrades. Mr. Iblis has chosen to take his army and supporters, and go home (or at least, out to some unknown rock of a planet out in the Rim), rather than see Mothma crown herself queen of the universe when Palpatine is dealt with. Mothma is not at all pleased at his desertion, and aides have been tiptoeing around her all week. Mentioning his name is a good way of volunteering for Alliance remote scout duty, we've heard. This probably has nothing to do with the fact that Iblis apparently began addressing her in the third person as Empress Mothma in their final encounter. Children, children! Personally, we think he's still sore at having his thunder stolen by Mothma at the Corellian Treaty signing. As for Mothma, well, she's been a bit on edge lately since the arrest of her old sparring partner Omonda by our wonderful Imperial masters. More news as it breaks, naturally!
by Wanda Windrow Galactic Resorts
35:9:24/IDD/RAD2/COR.1.IPC/MIL
Elite Commando Unit Formed At Emperor's Command
Imperial City, Coruscant
In the months following Rebel uprisings on Gerrard V and Ralltiir, and more significantly, in the aftermath of the Battle of Yavin, it has become increasingly clear to military analysts that the traditional organization of the Imperial Army is ill-suited to responding to the hit-and-fade tactics favored by Rebel guerrilla units.
Four months ago the Emperor, in a classified executive order, commanded that a new unit of elite troopers be formed to respond in kind. The existence of the new unit has now been declassified, and IDD has been granted the privilege of providing the first coverage of the Imperial Storm Commandos, as the new unit is to be known.
The Storm Commandos will be made up of line units, as well as tech, saboteur, and assault specialists. Typical Storm Commando missions are expected to be covert operations, to include the extraction of captured Imperials and Rebel criminals, infiltration of Rebel bases, and siege-breaking. The units will be armed with blaster carbines and blaster pistols. A new design of battle armor is rumored to be under development, but no details are currently available.
The first class of Storm Commandos is currently undergoing advanced training on Carida. Colonel Crix Madine, who was placed in command of the unit by Grand Moff Tanniel (both Raithal Academy graduates), is expected to lead his men into the field sometime in the next few weeks.
Imperial Defense Daily
The Final Exit
by Patricia A. Jackson Illustrations by Chris Gossett
A planet of interminable extremes, Najiba existed in a state of perpetual spring, delineating seasons in terms of electrical disruptions and torrential rainstorms. Ross stared into the maturing squall, intrigued by the erratic veins of lightning which arced across the obscure, night skies. Sheltered beneath his YT-1300 light freighter, the Kierra, the Corellian searched the turbulent atmosphere above the open flight pad, following several amorphous shapes that loomed above the heavy cloud cover.
Clipped with military precision, soft spikes of blond hair glistened with the rain as miniature drops accumulated in the longer length above his ears. Yawning, the smuggler leaned against one of the support struts. His sleepy, blue eyes stared from the shadows, regarding several natives who were huddled beneath the storm eaves of Reuther's Wetdock.
"194?"
Pressing the comlink against his cheek, Ross responded, "194." Alluring, a feminine voice replied, "What's the deal, Ross? We've been sitting here for over an hour."
"Are you bored, darling?" he teased, grinning handsomely in the dim light.
"Do you want an honest answer or just my opinion? Come on, flyboy," she pleaded, "Let's get moving."
"Don't get your circuits in a bunch." Affectionately he brushed a hand over the lower turret wondering in what section of the onboard systems she was hiding. Fondly named after his ship, the feisty droid intelligence had a tendency to focus on the optical sensors, possessed by an unusually feminine curiosity.
"Ol'val, Ross," a voice greeted from nearby.
Despite the familiarity of the Old Corellian dialect, Ross tensed, casually thumbing the restraint from his blaster. Propping the heavy pistol against the holster, he stared into the closest shadows and focused on the stooped silhouette. "Reuther?"
The aging Najib bartender stepped into the rain, humbled beneath the onslaught of cold drops. Sheltered below the Kierra, he straightened, staring into the young Corellian's face.
Vivacious with old world charm, his eyes were discerning and perceptive, contemplating Ross from head to toe. Meeting the smuggler's mischievous eyes, a proud smile played across his lips. "I see where you made the billboards in Mos Eisley last week. The Imperials are offering 5,000 credits for your head."
"Is that all?"
"Indeed," the old man chuckled. "Not nearly enough for a rogue with your credentials." Billowed red sleeves ballooned from Reuther's frail shoulders and arms, clashing with an oversized native tunic. Dampened by the rain, thinning gray hair was tightly braided against his freckled scalp. "It's good to see you, boy," Reuther whispered. Uncorking an intricately carved bottle, he poured a generous portion into a crystal goblet and handed it to the smuggler.
Najiba
Type: Terrestrial
Temperature: Temperate
Atmosphere: Type I (breathable)
Hydrosphere: Saturated
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Wetlands, limited forest regions
Length of Day: 18 standard hours
Length of Year: 215 local days
Sapient Species: Humans, Najib (N)
Starport: Limited services
Population: 3 million
Planet Function: Agricultural, homeworld, limited natural resources
Government: Tribal democracy
Tech Level: Space (around starport), feudal
Major Exports: Low technology, minerals, foodstuffs
Major Imports: Mid technology, agricultural innovations
Najiba is a remote world, relatively isolated from its neighbors. An extended, elliptical orbit offers a long growing season and shortened days. However, due to the mysterious asteroid belt which the planet passes near during one half of the orbital cycle, the planet is unreliable for continuous space traffic and is often bypassed by all except the most curious tourists and of course, smugglers.
The inhabitants of Najib are superstitious and wary of outsiders — but only the warmest reception can be expected from the locals who value their reputation for hospitality. Easily adaptable and hardy workers, the Najib are renown for their loyalty. Despite their own lack of technology, they are quite knowledgeable and adept at using and repairing high-tech weaponry and spacecraft. This is partially due to a constant influx of illegal goods being smuggled to the surface.
"Corellian whisky?" Ross questioned, sniffing the bitter aroma. "What's the occasion?"
"Growing old," Reuther croaked, nervously glancing over his shoulder, "and to having the strength to face tomorrow."
Suspicious, Ross followed the bartender's anxious eyes. "Quiet night, Reuther?" he asked, cautiously moving a hand to his blaster.
Sadly, the old man shook his head. "This is a desolate place when the Children of Najiba come home."
Familiar with the Children of Najiba, Ross scanned the night skies, well acquainted with the peculiar asteroid belt that had mysteriously claimed an orbit around the small planet. As ominous as the shattered rock moving above their heads, Ross discerned the somber tone of Reuther's voice. "Your message said it was urgent."
Muffled by the warm bodies crowded at the narrow blast door, a strangled scream suddenly erupted from the bar. The despondent cry fluctuated, a cacophony of sobs, which peaked above the violence of the storm.
"Just watch, my boy," Reuther cautioned. "I brought you here for a reason."
The crowd broke ranks, scattering away from the bulkhead frame. A Najib man, wearing the clumsy beige uniform of a port control steward, staggered from the bar, collapsing in the street. Cradled in his arms, he carried the slender, motionless body of a Twi'lek woman. Her pale, blue skin glistened with rain, faultless and smooth despite the cruelty of the shadows. With the delicate poise of a dancer, elegant arms swayed above her head, exaggerating the gentle arch of her neck and shoulders. Scantily clad in a faded tunic, her frail form convulsed in the steward's arms.
"That's Lathaam," Reuther began, "our port official, and that," he hesitated, "that used to be his woman, Arruna."
Ross shrugged the tension from his chest and shoulders, massaging a pinched nerve in his neck. "What happened?"
"Adalric Brandl happened," he replied evenly. "He blew in about 10 hours ago, demanding a ship with a pilot who could shoot as well as fly." Sighing, he added, "Well, you know the rule, Ross. When the Children of Najiba are home, no traffic on or off the planet. Lathaam, being the choob-head he is, made the mistake of informing Brandl of that fact." The anxious Najib rubbed the narrow ridge between his eyes. "Lathaam always did lack diplomacy skills."
"So Brandl killed the girl?"
"I ain't saying what he did." From the safety of the shadows, Reuther watched the lurid scene. Dubious, he averted his eyes, throwing his hands up with exasperation. "Truth is, Ross, Brandl never touched her. Never laid a hand on her," he puffed, "yet there she lies, dead. And there ain't nobody on the planet, not even you, who can tell me Brandl didn't do it."
"You've been living with the natives too long."
"I know what you're thinking, boy," Reuther scoffed. "Remember, I was once a bounty hunter, too. Brandl never pulled a blaster. Doesn't even have one." The bartender cleared his throat noisily, spitting into the wind. "His kind don't need blasters to kill." Shuddering visibly, he mumbled, "He's a 10-96 if I ever saw one."
"A 10-96?" Ross whispered.
"If you don't know, you better look it up," Reuther snorted. "Your life may depend on it."
Ignoring the patriarchal cynicism, Ross crossed his arms over his chest. "Where do I fit into all of this?"
"Brandl wants a pilot who can handle himself. I told him I knew a dozen or more suicide jocks who would come through the asteroids just to make an easy 1,000 credits ... then I told him about you."
"Come on, Reuther," Ross snorted musically. "One man comes along and has the whole town running scared? Whatever happened to your militia?"
"Is that what it's called?" Reuther scoffed. Staring at the backs of the prying mob, he spat, "Farmers! All of them! Eager to bite every stranger, but afraid of stepping on their own tails. Look at them!" He stared into the small assembly gathered around the body. "It's easy to look into another man's misery and do nothing."
Grumbling among themselves, the crowd abruptly retreated into the street as a shadow moved from the back of the bar. Eclipsing the dim light radiating from the bulkhead, the stranger faltered in the doorway. "That'll be him," Reuther whispered. "I'll pay you 2,000 credits on top of whatever he offers you. Just get him off the planet!" Stepping back into the rain, he hesitated. "There's a bad noise about this one, Ross. Watch yourself."
Captivated by the peculiar events surrounding this outsider, Ross cautiously observed the reaction of the locals as Brandl swept past them, drawing the shadows in his wake. Struck by the unusual beauty of the stranger's face, the smuggler found it difficult to believe that such a man was capable of violence. Handsome, almost cavalier by appearance, Brandl's nose and chin were chiseled with stony nobility, polished by a quiet arrogance that aroused the smuggler's suspicions. Faded laugh lines framed a narrow mouth and thin lips.
Thick, dark waves of hair glistened with rain, interspersed with strands of white, which ran from his temples to the nape of his neck. As foreboding as the shadows of Brandl's face, the robe draped from his shoulders seemed to absorb the darkness about them, concealing any weapons and his hands from view. "Captain Thaddeus Ross?"
Wincing with mention of his first name, Ross brushed his duster aside, revealing his blaster and his hand poised over the heel.
Thaddeus Ross
Type: Ex-bounty hunter and smuggler
DEXTERITY 3D+1
Blaster 6D, dodge 5D, grenade 4D, melee combat 3D+2, melee parry 3D+2, running 4D
KNOWLEDGE 2D+1
Alien species 6D, languages 5D, planetary systems 6D+1, streetwise 4D+2, survival 4D, value 4D
MECHANICAL 3D+2
Astrogation 5D, beast riding 4D, space transports 6D, space transports: YT-1300 7D+2, starship gunnery 4D, starship shields 5D
PERCEPTION 3D
Command 4D+2, investigation 4D+2, search 3D+2, sensors 6D, sneak 3D+1
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 6D, climbing/jumping 3D+1, lifting 3D+1
TECHNICAL 2D+2
Blaster repair 4D, space transports repair 5D+2
Special Abilities:
Investigation: Gains +2 when his investigations involve any Imperial business.
Force Points: 3
Character Points: 16
Move: 10
Equipment: Heavy blaster (5D), comlink
Thaddeus Ross is a handsome, easy-going spirit of 28 who comes from a long line of smugglers. A non-traditionalist, he broke free of the family legacy and became a bounty hunter. His ability to capture particularly dangerous criminal personalities quickly gained him a reputation as a good enforcer. However, the notoriety quickly wore off and he returned to the family tradition of smuggling.
Despite a ruthless, occupational edge, Ross is easily provoked by senseless violence. Cynical and self-righteous, he has a weakness for protecting the underdog and often interferes to even the odds, ignoring any possible endangerment to himself.
"Adalric Brandl?" he replied curtly.
Cordial, a genteel smile played across Brandl's pale lips, drawing a sharp angle over his prominent cheekbones. "I'll be brief, Captain. I need transport to the Trulalis system."
"Trulalis? You could catch the local skipper for half of what I'm likely to charge. Private transports don't come cheap."
"Integrity comes without price, Captain Ross. The bar owner assured me that you were a man of integrity." Squaring his shoulders, Brandl probed the smuggler's calculating eyes. "I'm offering 5,000 credits for transport to Trulalis, where you will accompany me to the Kovit Settlement."
"I don't leave port for less than 6,000," Ross countered, narrowing his eyes. "If you want company, it'll cost you extra: 1,500 credits."
"Agreed," Brandl whispered. Graceful, his long fingers retrieved a sealed credit chit. "Three thousand now and the rest on completion of my business."
Eyeing the sealed chit, Ross gushed, "Right this way." The smuggler extended his arm toward the freighter's lowered ramp. "Kierra, prepare to raise ship."
"Well it's about time!" she hissed. "I thought my docking struts were going to take root here."
Ross cast a final glance to the bar, saluting Reuther and the others who were watching from the sanctuary of the shadows. Confidently pocketing the credit chit, he flashed a reassuring smile and jogged up the ramp. Initializing the hatch seal, he moved along the familiar corridor toward the flight compartment. The Corellian grinned impishly, listening to Kierra's vindictive voice, as she engaged their peculiar passenger.
"Who the hell are you?" she demanded. "Never mind where I am. I'm where I belong, but you —"
"Kierra," Ross whispered, "meet our new client."
Seething with the brunt of Brandl's initial arrogance, Kierra vehemently blustered, "Halle metes chun, petchuk!"
"Koccic sulng!" Ross scolded, shocked by the scathing Old Corellian insult.
Pleasantly, Brandl returned his thanks for the rude statement and offered a challenge. "Onna fulle guth."
Before the droid intelligence could recoup for the invitation, Ross glared into one of her optical lenses. "That's enough!" he fired at her. "Open the power coupling and charge the main booster," he ordered. "Now, Kierra!"
Discharge static hissed over the internal comm, similar to the indignant gnashing of teeth. "Affirmative, boss," she replied.
Crossing his arms over his chest, Ross leaned against the interior hull wall, listening for the ignition of the ion engines. Focused on Brandl's insidious eyes, he whispered, "There aren't too many people who remember the Old Corellian dialect."
"In the course of my career, I've had to speak many languages."
Cautiously, Brandl added, "I was .... am ... an actor."
"I don't usually transport passengers," Ross confessed. Stepping through the low bulkhead, he activated the interior corridor lamps. "You're welcome to use my quarters."
Brandl's gaze swept the length of the modest passenger cabin. Hesitant to enter, he paused in the bulkhead frame. "How long until we reach Trulalis?"
"An hour?" Ross shrugged dubiously. "I'll notify you when we arrive."
"Thank you, Captain, your hospitality is appreciated."
"Yeah, I bet it is," the Corellian mumbled under his breath. As the hatch automatically sealed behind him, he retraced his steps to the flight compartment. "Kierra, set the astrogation system for Trulalis."
"Check."
Sitting down in the acceleration chair, Ross quickly glanced over the flight console. "Okay, darling, bring up the emergency auto-pilot program we installed this morning."
"Not today, Ross," Kierra pouted. "I have a headache." Observing his reaction from several optical lenses, she dampened his fury, whining. "You forgot to cut the restraint servos, flyboy. So don't blame me for the glitch." A hushed snicker translated across the internal comm. "By the way, where'd you dig up the spook? He gives me the chills, Thadd."
"I told you not to call me that!" Ross hissed. Glaring into an optic sensor, he roughly booted the throttle, causing the freighter to shudder and slide on the pad.
"Gently, gently," Kierra cooed. Vexed by his dark mood, she added, "I hate it when you get this way. Your manners —"
"Never mind my manners!" Curbing his temper, he flipped a series of flight switches. The freighter shifted beneath him, resisting the planet's gravity as it rose from the external dock. "You just think about minding your manners," he scolded. Checking the data readouts for the latest asteroid activity, the Corellian grumbled, "Brandl's paying 8,000 creds for this trip, that's almost half a load of spice. You could at least try to humor him."
"Whatever you say, boss."
"And while I have your attention, run a code check on a 10-96."
"That's easy. It's listed by Imperial enforcement protocol as a mentally imbalanced person."
"No, there's got to be something more to it," he contemplated. "There must be something else. Research the dead files on all 10-codes with that designation."
"That could take some time."
"Good!" he snapped. "I want every description for a 10-96, everything from Imperial databases to Old Republic records."
Resistantly, Kierra replied, "Affirmative, boss."
Accompanied by a low hum, the hyperdrive cue flashed intermittently, recalculating the jump to hyperspace. Checking the on-board systems, Ross observed hyperactivity in the library programs, where Kierra was researching the peculiar 10-code. "Stand by, hyperdrive engaging," he announced, piping into the ship-wide intercom. Bracing himself against the acceleration chair, Ross activated the motivator, propelling himself, his passenger, and his ship into the multicolored explosion of hyperspace.
In the lower cradle of the ship, Ross sat in the swivel gunner's chair, swinging side to side, absently strumming his fingers against the turret firing controls. He closed his eyes and massaged a muscle spasm in his shoulder, wincing as the clenched tendon tightened then released. Oblivious to the spectacular display of light and color beyond the narrow viewscreen, he relaxed against the cool leather brace, drifting into the serenity of sleep.
"You know," Kierra whispered, "you make the cutest faces when you're asleep."
"I wasn't asleep," he lied, suppressing a yawn.
"Well heads up, flyboy! I have some intriguing data for you."
Ross sat up, rubbing the circulation back into his ears. "Let's hear it."
"Well, it seems that your mysterious 10-96 dates back long before the 10-code setup even existed. Now, according to the description, and I must admit I'm perplexed, the 10-96 came from an Old Corellian word, ke'dem."
Staring into the hyperspace vortex, Ross mentally mouthed the word. "Go on."
"Go on?" Kierra snorted. "That's it! Since before the Empire, a 10-96 has had two definitions, an imbalanced person and a ke'dem." Hesitant, she whispered, "Now without overinflating your ego ... what's a ke'dem?"
"It's a variation of Old Corellian that means condemned or fallen."
"Well that would explain the modern terminology."
"Yeah," he whispered, "it would also explain what happened down there on the planet." The smuggler cupped his hands together, supporting his head and neck. "Kierra, darling, Adalric Brandl is a Jedi Knight."
The Kierra
Craft: Modified Corellian Engineering YT-1300 Transport
Type: Modified light freighter
Scale: Starfighter
Length: 26.7 meters
Skill: Space transports: YT-1300 transport
Crew: 1 or 2
Passengers: 10
Cargo Capacity: 135 metric tons
Consumables: 3 months
Hyperdrive Multiplier: x1
Hyperdrive Backup: x10
Nav Computer: Yes
Maneuverability: 2D
Space: 4
Atmosphere: 260; 750 kmh
Hull: 3D+2
Shields: 2D+1
Sensors:
Passive: 15/0D
Scan: 30/1D
Search: 50/3D
Focus: 2/4D
Weapons:
One Double Laser Cannon
Fire Arc: Front
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 1D+2
Space Range: 1-3/12/25
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2.5 km
Damage: 4D
One Laser Cannon
Fire Arc: Turret
Crew: 1
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 2D
Space Range: 1-3/12/25
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2.5 km
Damage: 4D+2
The Kierra is Thaddeus Ross' modified YT-1300 freighter. As one of the previous modifications it was given a droid intelligence to monitor ship's systems. The intelligence, also named Kierra, has developed its own personality.
"A Jedi? That would explain a lot of things." Momentarily, her optic sensor dimmed. "Stand by. Hyperdrive about to disengage. Three ... two ... one."
Leaning against the gunner's panic bar, Ross felt the vibration of the ion drives, set to ignite once the transition was complete. "Easy on the drive coils, Kierra."
"Aren't you coming to the bridge?" she asked.
"On my way," he replied, "but first I have to collect our unusual guest."
Kierra
Type: Droid intelligence
DEXTERITY 0D
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Alien species 6D, cultures 6D+1, languages 7D, law enforcement 7D+1, planetary systems 6D+2, value 6D
MECHANICAL 3D
Astrogation 7D, communications 8D+2, sensors 8D, starship shields 7D+1
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 5D, con 4D+1, gambling 4D, investigation 4D
STRENGTH 0D
TECHNICAL 3D
Computer programming/repair 7D, droid programming 7D, droid repair 6D+2, security 8D, space transports repair 7D, starship weapon repair 6D+1
Character Points: 7
How and why Kierra got into the onboard systems of the light freighter are not known. However, it is certain that she either was trapped inside the ship or hidden there sometime after the construction of the freighter. While inspecting the ship, Ross accidentally awakened her and thus began a long partnership with the eccentric droid. While Kierra can manipulate certain ship functions like sensors and communications, she had to learn astrogation and shields from her Human mentor. She is continually learning new functions by way of self-programming and additional input from Ross.
Her uncanny ability to imitate Human behavior is disarming to strangers and has been heavily influenced by Ross and prolonged contact with other intelligent (often eccentric) species.
Blanketed by a protective cloud layer, the planet Trulalis was richly embellished with a spectacular landscape of verdant green. A mosaic of rolling grasslands, sprawling forests, and spacious oceans stood as an invitation to paradise for the space-weary traveler. Crisscrossed and separated at irregular intervals by feral wilderness, Trulalis offered innumerable flat fields for small transports to dock. Ross made a mental note to mark this planet as a potential checkpoint on his smuggling runs. A brief sensor scan pinpointed the closest, suitable landing field. Compensating for the subtle shifts on the ground surface, he set down near a small hamlet.
On the surface, Ross shouldered his travel tote and secured an extra power pack to his holster. From the top of the ramp, he hesitated in the corridor, glimpsing Brandl from the corner of his eye. The eccentric Jedi was waiting for him outside on the trail, shadowed by the towering visage of the black trees. A seemingly invincible statue, the strange man stood with solemn conviction, staring into the hazy silhouette of the late afternoon sun. "Kierra, I'm still not sure what Brandl's up to. Keep your eyes open."
"Keep your comlink open," she replied. "You know how I worry." "That's my girl," the Corellian chuckled.
Testing the soft earth beneath his boots, Ross strolled up to the familiar silhouette of his passenger. For the first time since leaving Najiba, he noted that both of Brandl's hands were visible, one of them swathed haphazardly in a black bandage. Through gaps in the makeshift dressing, he saw the tender pink of raw flesh and yellow seepage draining into the thick fabric.
Before Ross could question him, Brandl turned and started along the trail. "What did the Najib tell you about me?"
"He said you killed a Twi'lek girl," Ross blurted. After a moment he pressed, "Did you?"
The Jedi's reply was abrupt and forthright. "Yes." Brandl hesitated as the Corellian snorted reprovingly. "Please Captain, your contempt is small reward for a repentant pilgrim."
"You call murder a penance?" Ross spat.
"When it has become the least of one's crimes," the Jedi paused dramatically, "yes."
Brandl's apathy toward the woman's death was chilling, sending shudders throughout the Corellian's body. "How? You never touched her." Ross grasped Brandl's sleeve and pulled. "How did you do it!"
"I asphyxiated her."
"She suffocated? In an open room?"
"A sophisticated talent," Brandl sneered, "not meant for the faint of heart."
"You sound proud of yourself, Jedi!" Ross spat with contempt. "Makes you feel good to kill an innocent woman?"
Trulalis
Type: Terrestrial
Temperature: Temperate
Atmosphere: Type I (breathable)
Hydrosphere: Moderate
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Forests, grasslands, lakes, mountains and oceans
Length of Day: 23 standard hours
Length of Year: 310 local days
Sapient Species: Human
Starport: Landing fields
Population: 1 million
Planet Function: Homeworld, theatrical training/entertainment
Government: Participatory democracy
Tech Level: Information (remains largely agricultural and communal)
Major Exports: Mid technology, entertainers
Major Imports: None
While the system's core planets, Issor and Cadezia, have become thriving centers of technology and commerce, Trulalis remains isolated and remote. Sanctioned as a low-tech world, Trulalis is protected by Issori laws forbidding middle or high technology, which is generally shunned by the communal inhabitants. However, the planet is not closely monitored and many infractions go unmentioned.
In the Republic's golden age, Trulalis boasted one of the finest schools of liberal arts education. Lavish theater productions, dramatic performances and other fine arts made this now rural, backwater world a thriving center of cultural literacy. All that remains now are a few abandoned theaters, with a few dusty classrooms, dilapidated stages and a few holovids advertising faded glory.
"Evil springs from weakness and weakness from ambition; by this grand order every ambitious man is undone!" Deliberately, the Jedi challenged, "Tell me, Captain, you too are an ambitious man. Which of us is truly innocent?"
"Should I applaud now!" Ross taunted.
"If you wish!"
"Well before I hand over your accolades, tell me something. Was that a real line or just something you made up to ease your conscience?"
Petulant with the smuggler's indignation, Brandl turned on him. "If it's retribution you wish for me, Captain Ross, then I suggest you stay close at hand." Scowling furiously, he stared down his long nose. "You may yet have your satisfaction."
Provoked by the sinister edge in Brandl's voice, Ross drew his blaster. The Jedi apparently heard him, and spun around to face the blaster. Ross fired a three-round burst at the Jedi. Honed by several seasons as a bounty hunter, he centered the bolts to explode in the square of Brandl's broad shoulders. Before the deadly energy could land their mark, Brandl deftly snatched a cylindrical object from his belt. Momentarily, a narrow shaft of white brilliance ignited from the base, feinting and parrying with the precise motions of the Jedi's wrists. Deflected by the lightsaber, the blaster bolts were harmlessly shot off into the field.
Aghast, Ross could only watch as the destructive rounds dissipated into oblivion. Abruptly, he felt the crushing pinch of invisible fingers clenched against his throat, constricting his airway and lungs. Choking, the smuggler dropped to his knees as the serene landscape of Trulalis blurred before him. Gradually, the sensation faded, leaving the Corellian gasping to catch his breath.
"There is one rule of theater that applies to real life, Captain Ross," Brandl declared. "Only heroes die. Villains and cowards are left to suffer." Turning his back on the panting pilot, he snarled, "Now come along."
Ross shook the haze from his vision. "Is that another line?" he slurred lethargically.
Brandl trembled, visibly drained as he disengaged the lightsaber with required effort. "Not just a line, Captain, but an astute warning to the less-than-humble pilgrim." Securing the lightsaber to his belt, the Jedi momentarily scanned the pale skies. "The settlement is less than a kilometer away. We had best move along. It will be dark soon."
Swearing off bruises, Ross bitterly wedged his pack against his shoulder and jammed his blaster into the holster. Quickly brushing past Brandl, he hissed, "Can't imagine why you'd be afraid of the dark."
Nestled within the dominant embrace of a mountain range, Kovit was well-protected from the harsh weather conditions of the northern highlands and the wind-swept plains of the coastal region. Staring down the mound into the modest farming community, Ross could vaguely discern movement in the dusty streets. Drawn by diminutive banthas, wagons creaked through the wide avenues. Dozens of people walked the streets, pausing to chat with a neighbor or to haggle over the local street merchant's wares. From a side alley, three boys grunted and sweated behind a battered landspeeder, coaxing the vehicle's engines to briefly ignite. Nearby, above the sporadic choke of the repulsorcraft, laughter betrayed a trio of children playing with an obsolete astromech droid.
Brandl hesitated at the crest of the mound, staring down into the settlement, as if reconsidering his options. Wilted, the Jedi's shoulders exposed a reluctance to continue. "Where are you from, Captain Ross?"
Startled by the abrupt question, Ross stammered, "Corellia originally."
"Do you find returning there difficult?"
"Homecomings are always hard." The Corellian shrugged, pursing his lips doubtfully. "At least for some of us."
Without further reply, Brandl continued down the trail, deliberately slowing his stride. Vacillating, he stepped through the settlement gates, as if expecting some invisible force field to bar his path. Nostalgically passing through the prudent rows of farm cottages, the Jedi admired the mastery of native architecture, as sculpted from the indigenous lumber. Herb gardens and prized flower beds adorned the private lawns, each tenderly manicured and maintained with fastidious care. As they approached the dry, dusty oval of the settlement common, Brandl covered his eyes, protecting them from the fading sun, as he stared into the rich, agricultural outback of the settlement, which extended far beyond the limits of the community to the base of the mountains themselves.
From the near center of Kovit, a macabre specter of architecture loomed above the rustic rooftops. Flyaway buttresses supported the main construction of the theater, unfurling like stony wings from the base. Packed with chalk-white limestone, the obelisk was unequivocally straight, seeming to elongate into the obscuring skies. Established intentionally in the heart of the settlement, the theater captured the waning rays of the sun, momentarily stealing the glory from the picturesque village. There was a somber sense of belonging that drew Brandl toward the structure, ignoring the startled glares of the settlement denizens.
As they passed through the outskirts of the community, Ross nervously observed a makeshift hangar and the crude snout of a Z-95 jutting from the narrow bay doors. The starfighter appeared operational, though crowded by its diminutive shelter, and eager for a skirmish. Distracted by the presence of strangers, several men gathered just beyond the shadows of the small livery, watching intently.
Thumbing the restraint from his blaster, Ross cautiously whispered, "Your adoring fans?"
"Neighbors, patrons, old friends." Brandl abruptly paused in the street, as if awakening from an illusion. "But that was another lifetime."
Adalric Brandl
Type: Dark Jedi
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D, lightsaber 7D, melee combat 5D+2, running 4D
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Alien species 4D+2, bureaucracy 5D, business 5D, cultures 5D+1, intimidation 6D, languages 5D+1, planetary systems 5D, survival 5D, willpower 6D+2
MECHANICAL 3D
Astrogation 3D+1, beast riding 4D, communications 5D+1
PERCEPTION 3D+2
Command 5D+1, investigation 5D+2, persuasion 4D, search 5D
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 4D, stamina 5D+2
TECHNICAL 3D
First aid 5D
Special Abilities:
Force Skills: Control 4D, Sense 3D+2, Alter 4D+1
Control: Absorb/dissipate energy, accelerate healing, resist stun
Sense: Combat sense, danger sense, life detection, life sense, receptive telepathy, sense Force
Alter: Injure/kill
Control and Alter: Inflict pain
Control and Sense: Farseeing, lightsaber combat, projective telepathy
Control, Sense, and Alter: Affect mind, control mind
Force Sensitive: Yes
Force Points: 5
Dark Side Points: 9
Character Points: 17
Move: 10
Equipment: Lightsaber (5D), dark robes, comlink, transponderer link
Adalric Brandl is a highly intelligent, self motivated individual whose grim obsession with tragedy stems from his career as a tragic actor. Even before his seduction by the dark side, he was a callous, moody man preoccupied with the visage of the next star-crossed character he was meant to play.
An apathetic murderer, he kills without remorse and moves on to his next target, which has made him an invaluable resource to the Emperor.
"Where do they stand in this lifetime?" the smuggler growled. "Strangers."
Weaving through the haze of the fragrant gardens surrounding the theater courtyard, a woman and a young boy moved along the grainy, stone paths. The echo of their voices chimed with laughter as a private joke was shared between them. Brandl watched intently as they walked through the haze and into the dusty streets.
Fiery, auburn spirals cascaded from the woman's head, crowning her oval face. Unusually pale skin flushed in the faded brilliance, betraying an aversion to excessive sunlight. Tall but gangly, the boy was no older than 11 or 12 years. Broad shoulders framed his upper torso, seemingly too heavy for his slender form. Coordinated and rhythmic, his long legs showed nothing less than the promise of sharp, steady growth.
Startled by the dark apparition of Brandl, the woman hesitated and stood motionless in the street, meeting the Jedi's friendless eyes. The smile parting her full lips was quickly forgotten. Puzzled by her peculiar behavior, the child swept his gaze from her stony face to Brandl. Registering nothing more than a stranger, the boy leaned over his mother's arm and whispered something in her ear.
Obviously distraught, she pulled the child snugly against her and hurriedly continued their trek across the common. Brandl sighed remorsefully, then without explanation, resumed his walk toward the old theater. Beyond the archaic gate a decade or more of wild flowers had claimed the inner recesses of the theater yard, staggering the once straight path to the massive bulkhead doors. Residing over the darkened antechamber, bronze statues and sculpted metalwork lined the interior corridor.
Adalric Brandl moved gracefully into these familiar shadows, intuitively stalking the darkened corridors and spacious hallways beyond. The hollow shell of his memories traced the outlines and silhouettes of each molded tapestry, a display case of tarnished prop swords and shields, and finally the grand hall, where past audiences had come to experience the stage productions.
Ignoring the Corellian behind him, Brandl quickened his steps, moving into the immense auditorium. Deafening, the familiar resonating of applause and encouragement thundered and echoed inside his ears; but this illusion was short-lived. There was no audience to applaud, no actors to bow, no stage settings, nor props as he remembered them. The yawning mouth of the stage was disgracefully bare.
"Who is there?" a voice whispered from the darkness.
Brandl faltered, supporting himself in the elaborately carved doorway.
A thin, frail figure emerged from the darkness of the inner aisle. "Come closer," he gently commanded.
From the shadows along the back wall, Ross scanned the theater for other signs of movement. Thumbing the restraint from his blaster, he waited quietly in the musty wings of the chamber as Brandl continued into the hall toward the shadowy form.
"Adalric Brandl, is that you?" the old man croaked pleasantly.
"Master Otias," Brandl whispered, kneeling at his mentor's feet. "I am ashamed that you care to remember me."
Otias ignited a glow rod, casting a warm beam of light across his scaling face. He was dressed in a faded gray tunic, stained with lamp oil and sweat. The veins and muscles of his arms were pronounced and defined, built up from a lifetime of toil and lean with age. Clouded gray eyes were nearly imperceptible against a splash of dark spots and freckles. "Since when did shame ever come between an actor and his task director?" Brushing a trembling hand through his thinning silver mane, Otias whispered, "It's been 12 long years, Adalric. What brings you back to this stage?"
Sidebar: Adventure Idea
The characters experience engine trouble that forces them to land on the isolated world of Trulalis, near the Kovit Settlement. While scavenging for repair materials, the group experiences a sense of foreboding among the humble community members, as if they are being shunned by the natives. The reason for their distress becomes clear. A dark Jedi has seized the local theater and is terrorizing the settlement inhabitants. His aim is to gain more power from the dark side by slowly tormenting the townsfolk and planning the murder of several residents. When the characters arrive, the dark Jedi's intentions take on a new motive, the seduction of a Jedi within the characters' party.
"Master O —" Brandl fell silent, cutting himself short.
"Come, come lad ... there is nothing more obvious than an actor with a need to confess."
Abruptly, Brandl cowered beneath the glow rod. "I ... I live my life ... in a whirlwind!"
Dignified, Otias beamed proudly, recognizing the famous line. "Old Soveryn's final words of the fourth act. How closely you've come to rivalling his life." Resigned, the aging taskmaster sighed, a lifetime of exhaustion evident by his labored breathing. "Actors are granted license to live a thousand lives, Adalric; but you, you chose to live a thousand lies. If you have come to me as your advocate then speak from your heart, not from the void of a tragic character who has never been born."
Spittle flying from the corners of his mouth, Brandl raged, "I cannot!"
"Every tragic figure is tainted by a flaw, possessed by a need to save the world or himself from some unpardonable crime. No man can set himself before humanity and judge it, not without himself being judged." Otias gently unwrapped the makeshift bandage swathed about on Brandl's left hand, wincing at the severity of the burn. The lightsaber's cauterizing bite was undeniable. "When we pursue shadows, we are destined to find the darkness." Staring into Brandl's face, Otias whispered, "And as you well know, the dark side has always had its price."
"What happened to me?" Brandl implored.
"You stared into the collective pith of all beings and judged it, without first looking into your own heart. Frustrated, you went looking for the tragic flaw without much success. When the Emperor came calling, you couldn't resist!" Otias whispered, "No one knows darkness better than a Jedi Knight, and no one was more suited to play such a role than you."
"I killed a woman!" Brandl gasped. "Suffocated her! I could feel her heart in my hand ... in my mind! And I squeezed and squeezed —"
"You've killed many," Otias accused. "The Emperor has no blood on his hands; but he keeps an army of others who do."
"Otias, please, help me find the way."
"The way of the Force brings balance to the anarchy of life; but you Adalric," he shook his head reprovingly, "you didn't want balance. Your pride was so great and despite my warnings, you went in search of the unatoneable crime, which inevitably separates the hero from the indigent masses. And you found it, didn't you?"
Gasping for breath, Brandl croaked, "Yes! It was within me, within my black heart the whole time."
"It lies within all of us," Otias whispered, "if we dare to see." Exhausted, he sighed bitterly, again brushing a hand through his thinning hair. "I cannot vindicate you of the evil that you have brought upon yourself, an evil that you have wielded in the name of the Emperor for so long. I've spent the last decade watching, waiting for your return, rehearsing what I would say to you." Sadly, he whispered, "What you ask, I cannot give you. There can be no redemption for your crimes. The dead cannot forgive." Extinguishing the lamp, Otias turned his back on the distraught Jedi and moved away toward the stage.
Brandl slowly turned from the familiar silhouette, stung by the reality of Otias's words. Pressing the damp bandage against his wounded palm, he stepped into the outer arena, moving into the darkened wings in the rear of the theater. Without comment, he retraced his steps through the spacious corridors, past the archaic displays, and into the courtyard beyond the doors. Steeling himself against the violent images sparking through his mind, the Jedi surrendered to Trulalis's last waning sunlight, imagining that the impotent rays had the power to burn into his flesh.
Angrily, he fumbled beneath his robes, producing a large cylindrical object. Ross flinched momentarily, traumatized by his encounter with the Jedi's lightsaber. With recovering confidence, he noted that this object was much larger and was covered with minute control levers and data screens. As if wrenching the neck of an invisible foe, Brandl twisted the object before replacing it within his robes. Lightly, he heard the smuggler's footsteps behind him, moving with guarded discretion, as if to avoid disturbing his troubled thoughts. "I prefer your contempt, Captain," he whispered, his eyes flashing with violence. "Your pity disgusts me." Extending his long stride, he stormed out of the theater yard, unhindered by the thickened dust at his feet.
Framed by the dark cowl of the forest canopy, the Kierra's ivory hull gleamed, a smooth, round tooth jutting from the heath. Guided by these moonlight reflections, Ross stumbled through the rutted trail, twisting his ankles against unseen rocks. "Kierra, lights!"
Squinting into the brilliant array of search beacons, the smuggler shivered, pulling the collar of his duster across his neck. A potent wind was descending from the high country, bringing with it the promise of rain. Inside the ramp corridor, Ross brushed a hand through his hair, reassured by the warmth flooding the freighter's interior. "Pump up the main boosters," he ordered with distraction, noting that Brandl had not followed him onto the ship.
Growing accustomed to the Jedi's erratic mood swings, Ross peered from the protection of the ramp door. Below him, standing at the foot of the ramp, Brandl stood motionless staring into the darkness as pale mists crawled over his shoulders and beneath his feet. "Brandl?" With his smuggler's sense aroused, Ross ordered, "Kierra, kill the exterior lamps."
"You can come out now," Brandl whispered, as the austere beacons were extinguished. "No one will harm you."
Ross pressed himself against the interior hull wall, propping his blaster and steadying his arm and shoulder to draw a clear shot. Hearing him, Brandl stared up into the darkened passage, disarming the Corellian with his sharp gaze. As the lanky figure of a boy emerged from the heath, Ross could feel the tension fade and stepped off the ramp, recognizing the child from their brief encounter in the settlement. Dressed in dark green clothes to match the forest at night, the child's face was flushed and sweated. Cautiously, he approached the two men and the freighter.
Awed by the sight of Brandl, enshrouded by darkness, yet haloed by the moon, the child moved gingerly toward the ship, compelled by an insatiable curiosity. He made no effort to shield his wonder, noting every measure of the figure before his eyes, as if committing his mere presence to memory. "It's true," the boy whispered. "You are a Jedi Knight."
"Who are you?" Brandl demanded, but there was no strength in words. Even Ross could detect the half lie of denial trembling in his voice.
Handsome, the child grinned, turning his face up to meet his father's eyes. "Don't you know me?" he asked. Staring intently at the lightsaber swinging from the Jedi's belt, the boy angrily cried, "You named me! Jaalib, remember?" Recovering his manners, he rubbed the toe of his shoe into the yielding earth. "My last name is Brandl too."
Gently, Brandl caressed the boy's hair and cheeks, feeling the smooth skin beneath his fingertips. It was a peculiar sensation, which fired every nerve across his body. Despite the tenderness of that caress, Ross felt a sense of unease crawling into his belly.
"Is that a real lightsaber? I've never seen one." Chatty, the youngster added, "I've seen props for the stage, but ..." His soft, tenor voice fluttered, prey to the silence as Brandl handed the weapon to him. Staring at it, Jaalib reached hesitantly for the lightsaber, then dropped his hand.
"Don't be afraid," Brandl urged.
"I'm not afraid," Jaalib said with confidence, taking his father's hand, rather than the lightsaber. A thin film of tears glistened in the corner of his eyes. Swallowing the emotion, Jaalib whispered, "I've come to warn you. I heard Menges and the others talking. They're angry that you came back to the settlement. Mother doesn't think they'll do anything; but I know that Menges has a ship."
Overhearing the boy, Ross snapped, "Kierra, check the sensors!" Abruptly, the interior corridor lights went dark. "I suggest that you all duck!"
A tremendous explosion erupted near the aft of the ship and forest perimeter, accompanied by the afterburn blast of an outgoing starfighter. Dodging churned up roots, debris, and stone particles, Ross slid under the ramp, diving for cover beneath the freighter's hull. Sparks and molten debris scattered about his head and shoulders, singeing his clothing and hair. Thrashing wildly, he swiped the heated material from his skin. Nearby, Brandl was helping the frightened boy to his feet, whispering encouraging words to the traumatized child.
"Damage report."
"They got us, boss," Kierra pined. "Concussion missile." There was a brief pause as she analyzed the incoming data. "Shields are out. Engines are at 70 percent. There's a good chance the ion coils may seize if we push them too far."
"Can we lift off?"
"With you at the reins, flyboy," she chuckled, "anything's possible."
Protectively embracing the boy against him, Brandl whispered, "As long as we don't make ourselves known, he will pass."
"Look," Ross barked, "this is all very touching, but that last pass was just to get an approximate location. Next time —" he snorted anxiously, "forget it, I'm not waiting around for next time. Let's scratch gravel, now!"
Agitated by the sudden turn of events, Brandl cupped the boy's face in his hands. "Does your mother know you're here?"
"No."
"Then ..." Brandl stammered, "how did you know?"
Playfully holding his father's hands, Jaalib smiled, "Otias told me the truth a long time ago. He let me watch the holos of your stage work. Mother didn't like it at first, but she came with me and she cried the whole time." Sadly, the boy glanced away, avoiding Brandl's eyes. "When we saw you in the settlement common, as soon as we got home she started to cry. So I knew it was you." Staring at Ross, the boy frowned, knowing the inevitable parting was soon at hand. "Will you ever come home?"
Brandl cradled Jaalib's smooth cheeks and gently kissed the child's forehead. "I can make no promises."
Jaalib forced a smile. "I understand. Otias said that you had other important roles to play, parts that a small world like Trulalis could never offer." Clinging to his father's presence, the boy whispered, "When I'm old enough, I'm going to act offworld too. Otias said that he would help." He hesitated. "I want to be as great as you are, father." The thin film of tears returned, threatening to spill over his cheeks. "I won't ever forget you." Using the thick canopy of the forest as a shield, Jaalib sprinted down the trail and vanished into the night shadows.
"They never told him the truth," Brandl swallowed desperately, fighting back his emotions.
"Why didn't you tell him?" Ross snarled, sealing the outer hatch.
"You give me credit for courage? A man of courage is a man of conviction, Captain Ross." Brushing past the Corellian, the Jedi whispered, "I lost mine the moment I chose to believe in old legends."
Throwing himself into the acceleration seat, Ross frantically began throwing the flight controls. His hands moved diligently across the console with consummate skill. Roused by the threat of a hostile starfighter swinging in on the sensor scope, he initialized the booster ignition, cradling the crippled ship in his hands. A low whine engulfed the flight cabin in static echoes and vibrations as the ion drive labored to lift the freighter. The metallic rattle of the deck plates reverberated through every corridor and in the spacious cargo bay.
"Oh," Kierra groaned, "that sounds bad."
"Never mind how it sounds, get started on bringing the shield generators on line!" Struggling to maintain control of the freighter, Ross brawled with the partially ionized throttle, maximizing the power output through the damaged engine.
"The hard part will be getting through the atmosphere," Brandl whispered, glancing over the readout screens.
"We may never get off the ground!" Ross grumbled. "Kierra, where is he?"
"One Z-95 Headhunter, headed right for us and according to my readings, the ship exceeds the normal weight ratio for its class."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning more concussion missiles. He's fully loaded."
"Power up the main sentry turret," Ross mumbled, concentrating on the hampered freighter. "When will the shield generator come on line?"
"Give me five more minutes. Hydraulic pressure is building to functional levels."
"Well hurry it along. At this rate, we won't even get into space before he catches us." Ross stared into the underlying blanket of the lower atmosphere, shrouding his departure in the frenzy of night mist. "What can you do about fixing the ion drive?"
"Think happy thoughts," Kierra replied. "We have no cargo. We have no surplus material. And," she added with a hint of feminine pride, "this ship has always been under its weight ratio. We're lighter than a Gamorrean brain sack."
"How long before he intercepts us?"
"Let's just say I'm putting up the shields now."
Abruptly, the modified light freighter shook with the impact concussion of another direct hit. Bucking beneath the powerful blow, the Kierra drifted beneath the cloud cover as the destructive energy ricocheted over the aft shields, dissipating harmlessly against the hull.
"Damage?" Ross panted.
"The shields took it," Kierra replied wearily, still accessing the information from her multiple systems. "But the hydraulic level is already dropping. We won't survive much more of that."
Angling across the stratosphere, the Headhunter aggressively continued its pursuit. Hampered by the thickened atmosphere of Trulalis, it swayed from side to side, approaching for another strafing run.
Arming the lower turret, Kierra interfaced with the sentry gun, timing a sporadic burst across the forefront of the attacking ship. Not expecting retaliation from the crippled freighter, the fighter stuttered through the atmosphere, its left wing section erupting into flames. Avoiding the turret's deadly accuracy, the Z-95 dropped back, barrelling out of range. "That should keep his head down for a while."
"Not long enough," Ross argued. Eluding Brandl's cautious eye, he grumbled, "If there's something in your Jedi survival book, now's the time to spring it."
Brandl nodded, his face notably drained and haggard. Reaching inside the fold of his robe, he again produced the peculiar capsule. The cylindrical-shaped device was cleverly fitted for concealment as a hydrospanner or mechanic's tool. Staring at the object, Ross recognized it from their brief excursion at the theater. As he watched, fascinated, the control head flashed intermittently from a hidden power cell.
"What's that?" Kierra crooned. Intrigued by the odd unit, her optical orb brightened, extending the focus on the transmitter.
"It's a transponderer," Brandl replied. "And it's been transmitting for nearly an hour." The Jedi sighed with effort, leaning against the broad back of the acceleration chair. In the harsh light of the flight cabin, his arrogance could not hide the gaunt cheeks and stress lines that had begun eroding the handsome visage of a once proud man. The morbid signs of resignation and surrender were easily read in his noble face.
Without warning, the Headhunter broke off the chase, banking sharply toward the planet. Its aft engines betrayed haste, glowing with the throttle thrown full open as the fighter vanished into the dense cloud cover above the planet. Suspicious, Ross glared at Brandl, feeling the constriction of fear in his throat. "What's the catch?"
"You had better prepare yourself," Brandl whispered.
The proximity alarms blared, sending a deafening echo into the freighter's corridor and accessways. Exploding with tactical data and imminent warnings of ship-to-ship collision, the sensors closed on the gigantic structure of the massive Imperial Star Destroyer, newly emerged from hyperspace.
As the Star Destroyer moved across the viewscreen only a scant 100 meters from him, Ross slumped against the back of his chair, defeated before one shot could be fired. Slowly, scores of turbolaser batteries turned on them, targeting his freighter. Still hampered by a faulty ion drive, the Kierra bucked and lurched toward the Star Destroyer.
"Have they got us?" Ross moaned, massaging his eyes and forehead.
Kierra snickered nervously. "Does Boba Fett enjoy his job?" "Could we outrun them?"
"We couldn't even out-think them at this point, flyboy. They've got us locked in tight."
Resting his head and arms against the flight console, Ross sighed, accepting the inevitable. "You've managed to sign my death warrant!"
"On the contrary, I've guaranteed your reprieve." The Jedi's mouth hinted at a sly grin.
"I have a price on my head! An Imperial bounty!"
"You are about to discover that the Emperor is quite generous, especially when one of his citizens sees fit to return his property."
"You're one of the Emperor's freaks?" Ross argued. "What were you doing on Najib ... You were running!" Staring at the Imperial Star Destroyer, he gasped, "You were running from the Empire? Why?"
"It no longer matters," Brandl whispered. "The time has come to confront the darkness and forsake it for what it is ... just so many shadows."
"Well some shadows can kill!"
As they passed into the outer docking field, the freighter was engulfed in darkness. "Then let all be perfected in death."
Prying the forward deck plate from the flight console, Ross quickly unbuckled his blaster, stashing the belt inside with a hidden cache of thermal detonators and other illegal weaponry. Motivated by Imperial penalties for unauthorized equipment and arms, he retreated to a general utility closet in the corridor beyond the command cabin. Retrieving a small stash of blaster power packs, the flustered Corellian returned to the bridge to find Brandl peering curiously into the hidden compartment. "Kierra, make certain the shield housing is intact. I don't want them finding your power cell." "A girl's got to have her privacy," she quipped. "Good thinking, boss."
Closing the hidden panel, Ross tripped the contamination seal. If the Imperial sensors went over the ship, they would bypass this area for contaminated mechanic's tools. Abruptly, the interior lights fluctuated as the power levels dropped, shifting to auxiliary mode. "All clear," Ross hollered.
"I've switched over my power couplings to a subordinate cell. Even if they do find my main generator, they won't know what it is. But," she teased, "that means I can't eavesdrop over the comlink or scan the perimeter!"
"For your own safety," Brandl began, "I advise you not to mention Trulalis."
Remembering Brandl's wife and son back on the planet, Ross nodded pensively. "Kierra, sweep all records and logs since we left Najiba, input data from a previous job. Where does that put us?" "We dropped that baby tris off on Tatooine, remember?"
"Don't remind me," Ross replied wistfully. "Just erase the reasons and submit an addendum about engine trouble above Trulalis." "Right, boss."
"And Kierra? Lose yourself. They'll probably go over every centimeter of this ship."
"Is that a hint of concern in your voice, flyboy?"
"Yeah," he grumbled. Shrugging the tension menacing his shoulders, he walked through the corridor to the hatch and deactivated the seal.
Before the ramp could fully lower two Imperial stormtroopers charged aboard the ship, leveling their weapons at Ross, shoving him against the hull wall. The force of the blow knocked the wind from his lungs and the Corellian doubled over, coughing desperately to catch his breath. Twenty or more stormtroopers were staggered outside the freighter, their weapons pointing into the ramp lift, trained on the dark Jedi.
Undaunted by the show of Imperial might, Brandl scanned the parade of white-on-black armor, until he met the familiar face of an Imperial officer beyond the periphery of armed soldiers. Stepping aside, the Jedi allowed three stormtroopers to rush past him into the ship.
"I trust you will cooperate," the officer announced. Pomposely, he adjusted the brim of his black cap. "If not for your own sake, then for the sake of your companion."
Disguising a hint of defeatism with dramatic poise, the Jedi proclaimed, "How can I cooperate?"
"Think nothing. Do nothing. Say nothing until you are told." Offering a hand to the panting smuggler, Brandl grinned slyly, his back to the Imperial entourage. "Captain Grendahl, you'll find that I do nothing very well."
Grendahl's face was menacing. "We're scheduled to rendezvous with the Interrogator within the hour. Inquisitor Tremayne is eager to see you again, Lord Brandl ... very eager." Pointing to Ross, Grendahl demanded, "Take him to the isolation area for questioning." Changing his demure with obvious fraudulence, Grendahl tipped his hat with mocking respect, "Please, Lord Brandl, your quarters have been prepared."
Massaging the bruises swelling on his chest and arms, Ross leaned his head against the antiseptically clean wall of the holding cell. Several hours had slowly passed, marked with isolated sessions of routine questioning. Abruptly, the door opened, admitting two stormtroopers and Captain Grendahl, who he recognized from the hangar bay. Pleasantly, the Imperial officer sat down across from him, setting a large datapad on the table between them. "Do you recognize this gentleman?" he asked, keying up a picture on the small screen.
Ross laughed softly, recognizing the distinguished curves of his own face. "Would it help if I said I didn't?"
Grendahl smiled generously. "No." Folding his hands against the table top, he sneered, "Interfering with an Imperial investigation is a crime punishable with imprisonment."
"An Imperial investigation?" Ross jeered. "It was a fight, and not a fair one," he argued. "Two stormtroopers against a Jawa, come on!"
"Never mind the odds," Grendahl replied evenly. "You still interfered; however ..."
"However?" the Corellian scoffed, mocking the insipid officer.
"However, I am authorized to extend a generous amnesty if you will cooperate and answer a few questions."
"Amnesty?" Ross chuckled. He scratched his head, agitated. "Imperial amnesty is about as valuable as a Wookiee dwarf with no hair."
Grendahl frowned, covering his dismay with shrewd professionalism. "You have the Emperor's guarantee, Captain Ross. Help us with one short investigation and you will be cleared of all charges."
Stalling, Ross demanded, "He owes me money!"
"I can't promise you will get it," Grendahl countered, "but you are entitled to 10,000 credits." Grinning malevolently, he watched the smuggler's startled reaction. "That's 10% of the bounty offered for Brandl's safe return."
Intrigued, Ross leaned over the edge of table. "You mean to say Brandl's worth 100,000 credits?"
Anxious to keep the smuggler's attention, Grendahl silently acknowledged the query. "You're lucky to even be alive, Captain Ross. Adalric Brandl is highly unstable, capable of inconceivable atrocities. However, his value to the Emperor makes him an essential resource. Where did you find him?"
"Najiba."
Grendahl's face darkened, perplexed. "Najiba has stringent ordinances restricting traffic through the asteroid belt."
"By the time I got there," Ross explained, "no one cared about port control penalties. They just wanted him off the planet."
"Was there trouble? Was anyone harmed?"
The Corellian shrugged casually. "I never left my ship," he lied, "so I can't really say."
"And where were you going?"
"Mos Eisley, but," Ross laughed, "considering my last visit, I only planned to take him as far as Anchorhead. After that, he was on his own."
"Did he ever mention his connection with the Emperor?"
"Not until you had us in the tractor beam."
"The damage to your ship?"
"We were attacked by pirates," Ross replied rhythmically. "My hyperdrive failed and we just barely managed to arrive here."
Grendahl hesitated. "You keep accurate ship records, Captain Ross. Your flight log and manifests substantiate your story."
"Call it a throwback to my bounty hunting days," Ross offered. "If you wanted your expenses, exact documentation was a necessity."
Tentatively peering into the room, a junior-grade lieutenant saluted Grendahl, ignoring the prisoner with him. "Captain Grendahl, sir, Admiral Etnam requests your presence on the bridge immediately, sir. Lord Brandl has been given the task of escorting the civilian to his ship."
"What!"
Ross concealed a sly grin behind the collar of his duster. Feigning surprise, he rose from the chair and leaned against the glossy table, pondering how Brandl managed to arrange this escort.
"Captain Grendahl," the lieutenant whispered, appalled by the outburst. "Admiral Etnam's instructions were quite specific. He is anxious to rendezvous with High Inquisitor Tremayne." Being Etnam's personal aide and fearing no reprisals from Grendahl, he nodded to the nearest stormtrooper and whispered, "Retrieve the prisoner."
Grendahl struggled to retain his composure, chafed by Brandl's influence, which despite his moment of dishonor to the Emperor, still held weight, even with the intrepid character of Admiral Etnam. Nostrils flared, he hissed between grit teeth, "Very well." Then to re-establish his ego in the company of those under his command, he straightened his hunched shoulders, erasing the sour scowl from his face. "You're free to go, Captain Ross," he growled. "The Emperor's clemency can be bountiful and far-reaching; but the next time you meddle with an Imperial investigation," he paused, "you may find yourself at the wrong end of Imperial justice." Folding his hands behind his back, Grendahl started up the corridor. "Remember that the next time you consider beating the odds."
Over the polished shoulders of several stormtroopers, Brandl watched Grendahl's retreating back. Sneering behind the Imperial officer, the Jedi sniffed disdainfully as he led the smuggler into the corridor. "Are you a superstitious man, Captain Ross?"
Preoccupied by the armed escort behind them, Ross whispered, "My grandfather used to say that superstition was the foundation of a weak mind."
"Then we are surely doomed, for the basis of our civilization lays in the hands of high priests, shamans, and monks." Brandl laughed with genuine good nature. There was a spark of emotion betrayed by the brilliance of his eyes and Ross noted the deepening of the laugh lines framing his mouth. Adalric Brandl was in good spirit. "Your grandfather was a wise man."
Ross shrugged off the compliment. "Just another smuggler who found himself on the wrong end of Imperial justice." He sniffed, recalling Grendahl's threat. "That's why I became a bounty hunter, hoping to avoid what happened to him."
"And then?"
"And then I got bored. Guess it wasn't meant to be."
"We spend nearly the whole of our lives searching for the appropriate role that will mark the end of our existence with some moment of glory, ignoring the fact that fame and reputation are but mere perfumes of virtue. They never last."
"Is that another line?" Ross teased.
"Acting is a profound education in human nature and that is why I became so obsessed; but as my intellect improved, my morals failed and I became the very thing I most despised."
"And what was that?"
"Human. I was not a king, not a hero, not a god. Just a man trapped in the passion of the play."
"So what happens now?" Ross probed.
"My life has been one continuous drama," Brandl whispered, "a tragic one, I'm afraid. And I have stumbled through it, scene by scene, act by act, like some terrified neophyte. Tonight, Fortune calls for the final exit. I can no longer live the lie."
"You're going back to the Emperor, aren't you? After what he's done to you?"
"He did nothing but point in a general direction. I chose to go and do his bidding."
"What about your family? Your boy? What if the Emperor ever found out?"
"I assure you; no harm will befall them." Euphorically, he sighed, "They will be safe."
Ross believed him. There was a certainty about the Jedi that went beyond the sinister shadows that had once kept the two men at odds with each other. But the smuggler's conscience demanded a bit more for security. "How can you be sure?"
"I've never been more certain in my life." Placing a credit chit in the smuggler's hand, he closed Ross's fingers over it. Ross noticed another object in Brandl's hand, one which the Jedi tried to conceal when he folded his hands together over it. "The chit is the remainder of what I owe you and the Emperor's compulsory fee for capturing a dangerous renegade." He grinned malevolently, amused by his own sarcasm.
Slipping the chit in his duster pocket, Ross noticed the spherical, metallic shape beneath Brandl's hands, and noted the raspy acid erase etched into the explosive where the serial trace markers had been removed. Eyes wild with the revelation, he stared into Brandl's tranquil face.
"Consider all debts paid," the Jedi whispered. Turning curtly on his heels, he retreated in the hangar corridor with the escort in tow. Ross hurried up the ramp, rush sealing the corridor hatch. "Kierra!" he hissed, sprinting through the access tunnel into the flight cabin. "Kierra, wake up!"
"What do you mean wake up!" she snapped. "The engines have been on-line and waiting for the last hour. I even managed to knock one of the ion coils in place by popping the shield housing." She snorted, causing an erratic hiccup over the comm. "What's the rush? The main databanks were clean and according to this little astromech they had on board —"
"Never mind!" Ross shouted, strapping himself into the acceleration chair. "Brandl has one of my thermal detonators and I think he plans to —"
A muffled explosion reverberated through the docking corridors, blowing smoke and debris into the auxiliary bay. Piercing, high-pitched alarms began to blare, alerting medics and technicians to the area. Amid the chaos of shouting voices, the klaxons, and the sound of armored feet rushing to secure the area, the Kierra momentarily hovered above the flight pad. Several smaller explosions echoed from the passage, rattling TIE fighters and shuttle craft in the nearby racks.
Bewildered, Kierra gasped, "What would ever possess him to pull such a stunt?"
"He had to protect his family," the smuggler replied wearily.
"But with him dead, there's no guarantee the Empire won't find them. Then again," she mused aloud, "there's no guarantee the Empire will even look for them." Flustered by the infinite innuendoes, she quipped, "I'm just glad it's over."
"But it's not," he whispered. Banking sharply over an array of TIE fighters and ejector racks, Ross guided the Kierra out of the launch bay, repeatedly throttling the labored engines. "Brandl might have made his final exit; but the play is far from over ... for us ... or his family." The Corellian grinned nostalgically. Mesmerized by the verdant face of Trulalis, he watched the planet rotate before him, physically unmarred, innocently unaware, momentarily unchanged. He sighed, his smuggler's sense oddly at peace. There were no more shadows.
Casually resetting the astrogation system for Najiba, he braced himself as the Kierra stuttered across the open void and then vanished into the translucent brilliance of hyperspace.
It's a Gambler's Life
Reina and Rollos: One
Reina Gale took one last quick look around the unused docking bay before turning her gaze upon the three approaching figures. Her friend and partner, a lumbering, hairy Gigoran named Rollos, shuffled back and forth uneasily on his thick heel pads.
"Steady, ya furry old log," she whispered out of the corner of her mouth. "After a few shakes of the hand and a couple of pats on the back, we'll be nothing but chums to old Tok and his crew." Gigorans were noted for their empathic nature, and Rollos was not easily soothed by her words. Watching her unsnap the hold-out blaster on her tool belt didn't help matters much either. A series of creaks and groans came from deep within the long-haired mountain standing beside her. Such vocalizations sounded like unintelligible gibberish even to translator droids, but to Reina the giant alien's discomfort was as clear as the cobalt blue of the Entrallan midday sky.
"This is not like that time on Arcura," she protested quietly as the three figures strolled up to them. "Besides, how could I know that an entire Imperial walker battalion decided to show up at the same time?" Rollos was about to grunt something appropriate in reply when she silenced him with a glance. One of the three newcomers, a well-dressed and portly Human stepped up.
Begas Tok was a gangster and black marketeer who preferred to keep his activities as low-key and somber as his mood. Rarely did Tok lose his temper over as something as trivial as a deal gone bad. He simply took what he believed was owed him — sometimes by using as much firepower as possible. The two grim-faced Humans who accompanied Tok, with their darting eyes and suspicious expressions, were obviously not here for their interpersonal skills. A modified blaster rifle protruded from the open coat of one of the hired thugs. Rollos groaned like a tree straining against the wind. Reina only smiled as Tok, with his drooping thin mustache, dipped his bald skull in salutation.
"Reina Gale. Maker of deals. Welcome to Entralla." Tok's eyes slid sideways at the towering bulk of Rollos. "I had no idea you kept such a large pet."
Rollos gibbered something hostile in the gangster's direction.
"Careful Tok. Else old Rollos here might seek out the path of least resistance — right over your two friends with the tumors growing out of their coats." A chuckle, more like a small breeze, came from Rollos' enlarged nostrils. Tok's thugs took one immediate step back. Reina smiled. Between Tok's gunmen and Rollos' droid-sized paws, the situation was barely equal. Both parties could now get down to business. Tok made a small gesture and the two hired blasters relaxed their stance slightly.
"Enough with the pleasantries, I suppose. You have the crystals?"
"I don't know. You have zee credits?" She managed a fair impersonation of the gangster's wheezing style of speech.
Unamused, Tok removed a small pouch from his coat, letting its contents of Imperial currency spill into his other hand. "Twenty thousand. As agreed."
The metallic clink-clink of credits always brought fire to Reina's eyes. She hopped off the crate she had been casually sitting on, motioning to her large friend. "Show 'em, Rollos."
The big Gigoran snapped open the crate's heavy latches. Dozens of round, shimmering prisms caught Entralla's sunlight and twisted it into a dozen different colors. The sight of such rare Zipthar hexa-crystals was enough for even Tok's normally sleepy-eyed gaze to change to one of appreciation.
The gangster kneeled down, letting his free hand playfully scoop through the crate's contents. "Zipthar hexa-crystals. So rare to this sector." A wicked little smile began to form over Tok's mustached complexion. Since all trade in hexa-crystals was rigidly controlled by the Velcar Free Commerce Zone, a black marketeer like himself could stand to make a considerable return on his investment.
"Then it's a deal?"
Tok slammed the chest shut and passed her the pouch of currency. Reina shook it; there was nothing like the sound of good old hard credits jingling in your hand.
Playing the percentages — that's what she lived for. But selling the crystals to Tok had only been the end part of this deal. It had all started with the acquisition of a "misrouted" shipment of gas from Bextar. The gas was sold to a distributor Reina knew who liked to make more transactions than his computer records stated. With fresh credits in hand, Reina then purchased a load of unrefined plexite ore using one of her numerous fake identity codes. The load was placed in a bulk freighter destined for the Jaemus shipyards. Reina then contacted her pirate friend Roark Slader, who just happened to be looking for a load of plexite ore for several rogue starship fitters in the Black Nebula. He made a swap for hexa-crystals, which he picked up while raiding vessels from the Velcar Free Commerce Zone. With the bulk freighter's course instructions supplied by Reina, Slader and his merry marauders attacked the ship, ejected the crew in the lifeboat pods, and stole the ore. So Begas Tok got his hexa-crystals, Slader got his ore, and Reina and Rollos were several thousand credits richer.
Reina sighed — the percentages had played well today. Even Rollos seemed a bit relieved as Tok instructed his henchmen to load the heavy crate onto a repulsor-cart.
"Until the next deal, dear Reina Gale. In the meantime, please do take in the sights of Nexus City's historic district. I would be most honored to take you on a private tour."
"I bet you would," she sneered as Rollos suddenly bellowed a throaty warning. All heads turned to the sounds of rushing boot-clad feet and armor. Reina cursed as she went for her blaster. Even the best of percentages sometimes got tangled up in unknowns, like the squad of Pentastar Patrol officers who came charging around the corner of the abandoned docking bay, blasters ready. "Drop your weapons! You are under arrest in violation of the Interstellar Trade and Commerce Authority!"
"Friends of yours, Tok?" Reina snarled in a low voice as the arriving patrol managed to block the only passage out of the docking bay. The gangster offered only a look of condolence.
"Well, I just happen to carry a permit to conduct trade in hexa-crystals. However, I know that you do not."
"Well thanks for nothing, ya' slimy spice eel herder!"
The Pentastar Patrol officers approached cautiously, their attention centered on the gangster as he began to wave his official permit like a flag of truce.
No one was quite prepared, not even Reina, for the ominous rumbling that filled the docking bay. Rollos suddenly picked up the heavy crate of crystals, and heaved it at the startled knot of patrol officers with the accuracy of a proton torpedo. The box crashed down upon them, and those who were not immediately knocked flat were sent flying on their backs as finely polished boots skidded across thousands of marble-like crystals.
Rollos easily scooped Reina up and carried her past the tangled mess of stunned patrol officers and the even-more bewildered Begas Tok. She called out to the gangster as they turned the corner and ran out of sight.
"Enjoy your crystals Tok, but I think we'll pass on that tour!"
The Gambler's Life
Thief, con artist, swindler, rogue, fixer, merchant, trader, risk-taker, deal maker — all of these terms can describe the life and times of the gambler. From the most flamboyantly dressed sabacc pro to the grimiest street urchin, gamblers come in all forms, sizes, shapes, and styles. Despite such variety, nearly all gamblers have a single goal — making the biggest score of their lives. No deal, no con, no business is big enough today than what a gambler might make tomorrow.
It has been said that true gamblers live on the edge, always searching for that combination of raw excitement and nerves that comes when a finely carved deal or enterprise reaps its weight in credits or other valuables. On the other hand, a deal that goes bad can send the gambler into a state of depressive oblivion. A gambler might spend days, perhaps even months or years, pondering what random turn or miscalculation sent their great idea crashing into so much dust. At best, the gambler can try again and get back on the scoring path. At worst, a fallen deal just might cost the gambler his or her life.
The Gambler in Star Wars
"A gambler, con artist, all-around scoundrel,... your kind of guy."
— Han Solo
In the Star Wars films and books, the gambler is represented by the likes of Lando Calrissian — a charming rogue, cunning businessman, and daring pilot. But the gambler template is actually quite open to definition. After all, a rogue like Lando Calrissian is but one example of a gambler and there are many variations of the breed: con artists, swindlers, vagabonds, and deal-makers who also drift across the star lanes. The only side they choose tends to be their own, although a few might be persuaded to help if there was something in it for them.
So what does a gambler do in the Star Wars universe? Gamblers are interested in making deals. It's their life's joy and pain. Fortune and luck could appear one day, the business end of a blaster could face them the next. Sometimes a gambler fails to sense right or wrong in their personal quests, and even the best can end up working for the wrong side at one time or another. Only they know when it is time to close shop and get their afterburners out of town.
All Kinds of Gamblers
"Lando Calrissian? Yeah, I've heard of him. He's pretty good at what he does. Course, being a close friend to those clean-cut, upper crust, New Republic-types has ruined what could have amounted to a perfectly good rep. Me? Heck, if it pays credits, I'll do business with anyone, no questions asked."
— Reina Gale
There are perhaps as many different kinds of gamblers as there are deals out there in the galaxy. Gamblers refer to themselves by a dizzying variety of names and titles. Some are outright criminals who take advantage of large, complicated bureaucracies or naive natives. Others are not interested in the slightest for profit or fortune — theirs is a quest for personal excitement and thrills.
The gambler template provided in Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game, Second Edition is just that, a framework to help players build their characters. To help players choose a type of gambler or to suggest a possible background for a gambler character, several have been provided below.
The Quintessential Gambler
This is the gambler, a charming scoundrel who drifts from one luxurious entertainment world to the next, trying to make a living on the constantly changing outcomes of sabacc tables and other games of chance. This kind of gambler drifts on the stellar winds, moving on only when hot streaks turn cold and the gambler's house credit ratings drop below acceptable.
Few are ever successful at this kind of occupation, and as a gambler becomes older and less prosperous, the character turns jaded and cynical. The character continues to gamble though, as this is the only life he or she has ever known.
The Fortune Hunter
This kind of gambler risks life and limb in pursuit of an elusive but astounding treasure. Certainly the fortune hunter knows everything possible about the missing treasure: who or what originally possessed it, the circumstances surrounding its disappearance, its worth ... everything in fact — except its location.
The gambler's excitement is quite infectious, and might draw a crowd of other adventurers who join in the gambler's quest. Risk means nothing to the fortune hunter, who even gambles on his or her own life to obtain this fabulous fortune.
The Engaging Entrepreneur
Another gambler is the kind who can smell a credit a sector away. They can look at something shabby or useless and see nothing but profit waiting to be made. With a little hard work and ingenuity, a worthless item can be made worthwhile for someone else. The entrepreneuring gambler can immediately recognize the potential for credits and risks everything on the investment's return.
This kind of character has high social skills, and appreciates those who have acquired the knowledge to complete the gambler's task, whether investing in a gas mine or in a new form of holo-entertainment.
The High-Stakes Gambler
The high-stakes gambler roams the galaxy in search of testing the odds through greater and greater risks. This gambler has become somewhat successful at whatever he or she does, except that newer thrills are getting harder to find. The high-stakes gambler resorts to dangerous activities and ludicrous deals to maintain his or her interest. The high-stakes gambler typically wagers everything for the next challenge.
Sidebar: Adventure Idea
One of the group's characters, perhaps a gambler, is offered an opportunity to refurbish an old Mon Calamari starliner and run it along a new trade route. The gambler must organize the project, including hiring the necessary personnel to repair the old ship, locating a crew, even providing entertainment for the passengers. However, a competing interest also has the same idea with another ship, and will do anything in its power to stop the gambler and the other players.
The Cunning Chroma-Neeka
According to most intergalactic encyclopedia databases, a chroma-neeka is a tiny, rodent-like creature that prefers to nest inside the cozy warmth of a computer or other electronic device, feeding off the power lines and cabling inside while the machine mysteriously malfunctions. On some shabbier port worlds, neekas jump from one tramp freighter to the next, wreaking havoc on ship computers and other vital systems.
In the gambler's jargon, a chroma-neeka refers to someone who takes advantage of the mystifying layers of bureaucracy of many large corporations and governments, and cleverly works with the knowledge that some are too stupid for their own good. The rodent might masquerade as a government official and make off with an important piece of information, walk into a military base and steal a starfighter right under the noses of base personnel, negotiate a lucrative deal with planetary officials for some obscure service and make off with the credits, or even blatantly rob tax or levy collectors right in their own offices.
The cunning chroma-neeka is a slippery type who hides among a dozen fake identity codes, none of which are his or her own, steals rides from naive transport captains, and will even rob an Imperial governor in his own home because nobody thought of doing it before.
Sidebar: Adventure Idea
The characters arrive on a world dominated by a single corporation. The workers here are little more than conscripts, beings who have literally signed their lives away as contract laborers. The corporation houses the workers in prefabricated barracks and provides everything, including tools, from a company-run store. Because the workers have to pay for their tools, food, and lodging from the company, many are trapped in their work contract trying to pay off their never-ending debts.
The sight of this terrible world reminds one of the characters of their own past as a contract laborer, and he or she decides to sabotage the company from within and save the workers from a lifetime of servitude.
The Hyper-Mouthed Swindler
"And I can get it for you — wholesale," are probably the last words a client of this gambler ever hears before they realize they've been had. This is the kind of gambler who works purely on the golden bits of wisdom that come out of his or her mouth. There are no lies, according to this kind of gambler, only misperceptions of the truth. And it is with a clever misperception of the truth that this gambler can manage to sell a junkyard full of scrapped garbage scows as "slightly scratched-and-dented" Star Destroyers.
The swindler may dress and act like a used-speeder salesman, but it is a performance designed to carefully disarm the suspicions of his or her victims. The hyper-mouthed swindler typically preys upon the less intelligent beings of the galaxy, selling insurance against Death Star attacks or pretending mining waste is actually valuable ore. This gambler, above all, is far more concerned with selfish self-preservation than in the needs of others.
The Back Alley Con
The back alley con is droid-smart and credit-wise, making a living on the filthy streets of some heavily industrialized, commercial world. The con knows who really is in control, who makes the deals, and where the credits can be found. The kinds of deals the back alley con is interested in are not all that grand or exciting, but they make enough to buy food and pay off debts.
Such a character is less likely to embark on any business practice that might endanger life or limb. Shifty-eyed and always suspicious, the back alley con maintains a list of local contacts to obtain anything from a blaster to the latest restrictive trade goods.
Phoggus Maxx
Type: Back Alley Con
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D, blaster: hold-out blaster 5D, dodge 4D, running 4D+2
KNOWLEDGE 3D+2
Bureaucracy 6D+2, business 6D, languages 6D+2, law enforcement 6D+2, planetary systems 6D, streetwise 7D, value 7D
MECHANICAL 2D+1
Communications 3D+1, ground vehicle operation 4D, repulsorlift operation 4D+1, swoop operation 5D+1
PERCEPTION 3D+2
Bargain 5D, con 5D, hide 4D+2, persuasion 5D+2, sneak 4D+2
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 5D, climbing/jumping 4D
TECHNICAL 2D+1
Computer programming/repair 4D+1, droid repair 3D+1, security 5D
Character Points: 6
Move: 10
Equipment: Hold-out blaster (3D), datapad, 500 credits
Relatively young for his occupation, Phoggus Maxx has lived as a "self-employed citizen" on the back streets of Entralla's Nexus City starport for as long as he can remember. Called "Phoggy" by those who deal with him, Maxx calls himself "The King of the Back Alley Deals." His specialty is procuring restricted or forbidden trade goods in limited amounts. Phoggy's success can be attributed to his numerous connections who work the spaceport as loaders, techs, and other laborers. Maxx sometimes serves as an intermediary, connecting buyers with sellers for a few credits. His dealings have led to several confrontations with both criminal and local law enforcement types who prefer that Maxx pursue some other line of work.
One of the few who keeps a cautious eye on Maxx is the leader of a swoop bike "appreciation establishment" (a fancy name for a swoop gang) named Ace, along with his young band of fellow swoopers, the Afterburners. Ace and the Afterburners have taken to personally protecting the local citizenry who live near the starport. The region is called the Overhang because little daylight enters the heavily industrialized and over-built section of the starport. It is seldom watched by official starport patrols.
The Professional Vagabond
The professional vagabond is a rogue and a scoundrel who gets involved in the affairs of others simply for the fun and adventure of it all. The offspring of wealthy parents, the vagabond has few real occupational skills except for those obtained from elite finishing schools or military academies.
Such a character travels extensively and extravagantly across the galaxy, using parents' credit accounts freely until they finally cut him or her off. Faced with the prospect of finding a real job, the vagabond gambler hires him or herself out as a professional to those in need — provided the vagabond is paid in advance, of course.
The Independent Deal Maker
The deal maker is plainly interested in acquiring wealth by building elaborate deal after deal. The convolutions and twists these transactions can take can befuddle even the most thorough of investigators. Since such activities can make enemies as quickly as credits, many deal makers barely manage to keep one hyperspace jump ahead of the authorities.
A particularly savvy deal maker goes to incredible lengths just to complete a single transaction. Sometimes the deal maker becomes a little too involved in a complex transaction to realize when he or she is in trouble. Only when angry clients start demanding the deal maker's head on a platter does the gambler finally realize that something is very wrong.
Reina and Rollos: Two
Rollos, with Reina Gale still carried over his shoulder like a sack of Capellan turg-roots, had run well into the confines of what Reina assumed was the historic district of Nexus City. Of course, the young woman could only hazard a guess where they actually were, since she was observing the rapidly receding view while upside down. Her pounding on the Gigoran's hairy back finally began to have some kind of effect.
"Enough already, ya oversized escapee from a carpet factory! People are startin' to stare! They'll call the patrol on us!"
Rollos ducked into a side alley formed by two ancient buildings and gently deposited her on the stone pathway, his huge lungs sucking in volumes of fresh air from the effort of running. While Rollos rested, Reina peered around the corner to check the bustling outer street traffic.
"We must have lost them, Rollos, considering all the foot traffic outside." A weary series of croaks and wheezes came from her tired friend. Reina considered his suggestion.
"No, I don't think we should try to bust out of town just yet. If Tok did tip off the patrol, then they'll be setting up identity checks all over the spaceport, the transit system, the rental speeder fleets, you name it."
The alley formed a narrow slit and was hardly wide enough for foot traffic. She moved past Rollos to the alley's opposite end and observed the goings-on for a while. Only an occasional passerby wearing strange crimson robes with hoods would appear along the inner square, ignoring her completely. Entralla had a noble, ancient past and was quite proud of its long history. Several prominent sects had originated here; many had schools that dabbled in various philosophies and the arts. No doubt they were probably close to one of the old monasteries, Reina determined as she slipped back to the hairy giant.
Crossing her arms, she leaned against the wall beside Rollos, letting the coolness of the stone run down her spine. The narrow alley opened to the sheer blue sky above and Entralla's huge pale crescent moon. The moon figured prominently in Entrallan myth — she recalled one particular story about it changing color when an ancient hero was victorious against a powerful invader. The Entrallans still clung desperately to their beloved myths and stories: it was all they had left since being under the boot of the Imperial Empire and now the Pentastar Alignment. Reina knew well what the Entrallans must feel, but wondered why they didn't do anything about it.
All myths aside, Reina and her friend were a long way from the Imperial slaver camp where they had both escaped from. Reina had been at the camp since she was little, serving as the personal pet of the slaver master who ran the camp. Rollos was a misunderstood, untamed monster who could not be controlled. She had been the only one in the camp who could somehow understand the strange sounds and whistles he made and they quickly became friends. Still, Rollos resisted the slavers, and he had been sentenced to termination by the slaver master when Reina decided enough was enough and freed the gentle giant. During her time at the camp, Reina had carefully observed the slave master — how he intimidated others to maintain his authority, how he bribed the Imperial inspectors who came to shut his camp down, how he managed to eat and sleep in splendor while his subordinates lived in squalor with the rest of the slaves.
She put that knowledge to use, carefully making deals for herself and Rollos to live on. She did it hoping they would be able to sustain themselves and eventually settle down somewhere where the Imperials or the Alignment could never bother them again. Gradually, her deals got better, and the payoffs even bigger. The idea of settling down seemed even less remote these days. Rollos didn't seem to mind — he liked visiting new places and picking up shiny new baubles. Besides, Reina thought, it was kind of helpful to keep the huge Gigoran around, even if he was a bit clumsy.
Rollos must have sensed her thoughtfulness, and turned his pensive face towards her, mewing in a gentle, understanding tone. She poked playfully at his arm, her tiny fist vanishing in a mountain of long, shaggy hair.
"C'mon, ya big lug. Let's use the back streets and find us a place to duck for the night."
Rollos chirped an agreement, and followed her (as cautiously as a Gigoran could) into the inner square. They both played it mellow, acting like innocent pedestrians out for a stroll as they passed a number of the red-hooded strangers. Few reacted in any way towards them, mostly with lingering stares at Rollos, as the pair slipped around a corner.
A hand suddenly snapped out and latched itself firmly on to Reina's arm, dragging her into an arched courtyard. Rollos bellowed in deep anger and immediately pursued them. Before Reina could shout a warning, two more robed figures had appeared from the courtyard shadows. One was brandishing an odd-looking weapon. A bolt of blue fire engulfed the giant and knocked him senseless to the stone tile floor.
Screaming and biting, Reina tore from her abductors and ran to the fallen Gigoran's side as the four figures slowly closed in ...
Reina Gale
Type: Deal Maker
DEXTERITY 4D
Blaster 5D, blaster: hold-out blaster 6D, dodge 5D, melee weapons: vibro-shiv 5D, pick pocket 6D+2, running 5D+2
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Alien species 5D, bureaucracy 6D, business 6D, languages 5D, languages: Gigoran 7D, law enforcement 6D, planetary systems 6D, streetwise 7D, value 7D
MECHANICAL 2D+1
Communications 4D+1, ground vehicle operation 4D+2, repulsorlift operation 4D+2, space transports 4D+2
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 6D, con 6D+2, hide 5D, persuasion 6D+1, sneak 6D
STRENGTH 2D+2
Brawling 5D+2, climbing/jumping 4D+2
TECHNICAL 2D
Computer programming/repair 5D, droid repair 5D, security 6D
Character Points: 8
Move: 10
Equipment: Hold-out blaster (3D), vibro-shiv (STR+1D), datapad, 2,000 credits
Reina Gale was only an infant when she and her family joined a colony expedition to the Minavar system. After she lost her parents to a virus that killed nearly the entire colony's population, she was placed in the custody of her uncle. Her uncle was a gambler by heart and lost his entire fortune to a local Hutt crimelord. The Hutt took everything from him, including Reina, whom he sold into slavery.
The slave master kept Reina as a servant and pet for nearly 12 years. During that time, she became an unwilling witness to perhaps the worst the galaxy could offer — slavery, extortion, murder, piracy, Imperial corruption, and countless other atrocities. Being the unwilling witness to such terrifying evil can harden even the most durable of hearts, and young Reina consigned herself to a life of unending bitterness and disappointment.
When a Sullustan slaver arrived with a huge Gigoran to sell, the slave master was pleased. Gigorans were considered powerful and intimidating and the slave master wanted the huge creature trained to be his personal bodyguard. Unfortunately, no one in the slaver camp could understand the Gigoran language — no one except Reina. She quickly grew to understand the misunderstood monster, whose name was Rollos, and sympathized with his abduction from his distant home world. The slave master was unsympathetic to Reina's pleas and ordered the destructive creature killed and the girl punished. Rollos, sensing his newfound friend was in danger, single-handedly destroyed the camp. Stealing the slave master's personal ship during the chaos, Reina and Rollos made their escape.
Reina Gale is a mischievous and clever deal maker who acts much older than her youth might suggest. She always travels in the company of Rollos, regarding him as a full partner and a friend as they ply their way across the star lanes.
A Gambler's Vocabulary
"Personally, I'm wary of anyone who's too well-versed in deal-slang. It always comes out sounding like they have something to prove."
— Phoggus Maxx
Gamblers and other deal makers are a close-knit society, preferring to keep their transactions as low-key and undetectable as possible. They prefer to use certain catch words or phrases while conducting business. This so-called deal-slang can be twice as obscure as some of the code words or phrases used by certain intelligence or other military organizations. Passersby who come upon a deal in progress sometimes find themselves at a loss to explain what phrases like "Wookinate" or "big finish" really mean. Which is all the better for gamblers, who hope to keep eavesdroppers and other undesired third parties in the dark about their activities.
Here's a list of deal-slang most commonly used by gamblers and deal makers:
Acceptable Losses: The gambler's bottom line; what a gambler would consider the very least acceptable way of doing business.
Achieve Zero Visibility: To duck or hide out.
Bad Idea: A risky deal with little to zero profit potential. (As in, "This is a very bad idea!")
Bantha Fodder: What a gambler will end up as if a promised deal doesn't come through.
Big Finish: A deal with an unexpected or violent ending.
Bilateral Business: Conducting multiple deals. (See Kessel Run.)
Black Box: A deal for military technology. (Also Hardware.)
Black Hole: A deal gone so bad that it has no immediate end.
Boba-ize: From the unfortunate Boba Fett; to do something really stupid — like fall into a Sarlacc pit.
Boys-in-Black: Imperial Customs agents.
Boys-in-Brown: Corporate Sector Authority Espo troopers.
Boys-in-White: Stormtroopers.
BTAD: Boring, Typical, Average Deal.
Cavalry: Rebel Alliance or New Republic forces.
Chroma-Neeka: A thief who slips through the cracks of large governments or companies.
Client: The recipient of a deal whose identity is usually kept anonymous. The more clients in a deal, the more credits that pass between hands.
Crash-and-Bash: A heist made to look like random piracy.
Cue the Soundtrack: A bad deal turned completely around at the appropriate moment. (As in, "Cue the soundtrack boys, I'm back and I'm not happy to see you.")
Cut/Count Out: As in cutting or counting one's losses. To terminate a deal without completing it. (As in, "I'm cutting myself out," or "Count me out!")
Deal: A business transaction. No blood oaths, no swearing on anyone's grave — just business.
Death Star: A big finish that ends with a big bang.
Drooling Drebble: A bounty hunter.
Drooling Drebble with Fangs: A particularly nasty bounty hunter.
Escape Pod: A painless way out of a bad deal.
Fashionably Dead: Something a gambler would rather not be.
Fishing: A gambler in search of business or clients. (Also Scanning.)
Good Idea: An above-average deal with good potential for profit or business.
Grand Idea: A deal that sounds too good to be true, and probably is.
Great Idea: A risky deal for lots of credits — just what a gambler likes.
Hardware: A deal for weapons or military technology. (Also Black Box.)
Head for Hyperspace: To cut out of a deal or duck out of trouble. (See Cut/Count Out.)
Idea: An average deal in the making. (See BTAD.)
Inherit: To acquire by less than legal means.
Kessel Run: To turn one complicated deal into more deals, or to dangerously overextend yourself. (As in, "Sounds like she's on the Kessel Run.")
Life Detection: Checking for signs of intelligence among potential clients. (See Scanning.)
Mon Cals in a Fish Bowl: Many big deals from clients with little life detection present. (As in, "I tell you, it was like blasting Mon Cals in a fish bowl!")
Nicely Dressed: Someone who is blatantly or heavily armed. The opposite would be Stylishly Dressed, someone who is discretely armed. In short, bounty hunters are nicely dressed, while most gamblers prefer to be stylishly dressed.
NRC: Intentional barb at the New Republic Council; acronym actually means Not Really Committed. (Gamblers are such a cynical bunch!)
Nuts-and-Bolts: A deal for electronics, computers, or droids.
Pretty All-Purpose Object: An artifact or unrecognized item that is purportedly of value.
Scanning: Fishing for new clients or business.
Sevari Sidestep: Using finesse to elude the long arm of the authorities.
Shim: To swindle or bilk. Generally not appreciated by clients.
Slug Breath: A Hutt crimelord.
Software: A deal for leisure or recreation items like entertainment holos or alcohol.
Stompasaur: An Imperial AT-AT walker.
Sweets-and-Seasonings: A deal for restricted goods, like spice.
Throw a Hydrospanner in the Works: To force someone else's business or activity to an abrupt end.
Top Off the Tanks: To sweeten a risky deal, make it more enticing or attractive to the gambler or the client.
Tramp-with-a-Cramp: Tramp freighter pilot or smuggler with a very unreliable reputation.
Vaccinate: To insure or prevent a deal from falling apart.
Wookinate: To render a foe or danger harmless through excessive amounts of force — what any good Wookiee would do. (As in, "You go on ahead, I'll Wookinate that scout walker!")
The Art of the Deal: Gamemastering Gamblers
"You're just not part of the business if you're not interested in making deals. And if you're not interested in making deals, you're just part of the problem."
— Phoggus Maxx
The gambler character can be a boon and bane for gamemasters. On one side, gamblers can provide ample story opportunities for a gamemaster to incorporate into an adventure. On the other, gamblers who stray too far from the adventure's intended path can bog down the action for the other players. Players of gamblers might also find themselves in a quandary. The gambler thrives on making contacts, finagling deals, acting like a scoundrel, and generally living on the edge. But if an adventure is fast and action-oriented, there may not be time for such things, unless the player doesn't mind thinking on his or her feet. And while some players enjoy interacting with gamemaster characters, others sometimes have to be prodded or gently helped along.
Before actual roleplaying starts, the gamemaster and the gambler player might want to discuss what they would like to see happen during the adventure. Just as an adventure might provide challenges for players of Force-sensitive characters, smugglers, reckless pilots, bounty hunters, pirates, and diplomats, there should be similar moments for the gambler.
Players can help by writing a short background description about the gambler. This does not have to be a five hundred page treatise, just a short paragraph about the character, including any particular contacts and objectives for the gamemaster's knowledge. Players should be encouraged to write down various personality traits (vagabond, fortune hunter, entrepreneur) as part of the character description. In addition, the player might want to include the character's successes as well as failures.
Finding Business
There are moments in almost every adventure which can be called "windows of opportunity" — times when a gambler can generate business or conduct a deal. Gamblers and gamemasters alike should be alert for such opportunities during an adventure:
"Welcome to the world/power station/port/city/village of ..." The players have just arrived in an exciting new place and cannot wait to explore it. Gamblers should immediately consider the area's level of technology, how open or restricted the area is to commerce, as well as Imperial or other authority present. Gamblers should also be on the look out for market places, trade depots, barterers' row, ports, and other places where business comes and goes freely.
"You have just entered the spaceport cantina when ..." All kinds of businesses thrive in spaceport cantinas and similar watering holes. Patrons could include someone looking for or selling information or other desired items. A smoky, dark cantina provides the perfect location to conduct a private meeting, seek out new contacts, eliminate the opposition, take in the local culture, or conduct other business practices.
"A short/tall, devious/fearful Human/alien accidentally stumbles across your path ..." Sometimes opportunity falls directly at the gambler's feet. With a little helpful assistance and some courteous questions, the gambler might determine if the pedestrian might be in need of the gambler's assistance.
"You pass by a window where a sign marked 'Going Out of Business' is just being installed ..." Ever wonder why merchants or shopkeepers go out of business in the first place? Not enough interest in their wares? Too much competition? Perhaps a gambler can cure the poor merchant's ills — for the right price.
"This system/world/city/village/factory is kept under rigorous control by the Empire. The inhabitants here are virtually enslaved, toiling for the barest of life's necessities ..." Supply and demand is the most basic of business principles. If there is a need for something, someone will eventually provide it. A smart gambler could easily fulfill that demand. Conversely, there is always a reason why the Empire would control or restrict a system, a people, or a certain item. Finding a way to circumvent that kind of control could make the gambler very rich indeed.
Contacts
Contacts can help gamblers and other characters when windows of opportunity are hard to find. A contact is someone who has a bit of information or a lead that can help move an adventure along in the right direction. A contact is one of the easiest of all gamemaster characters to create simply because the character appears as an information source and vanishes back into the shadows when no longer needed.
Almost any kind of gamemaster character, even corrupt Imperial officials, can be used as a contact. To help control an overabundance of contacts, gamemasters might want the gambler to roll their streetwise or other related skill when trying to find a contact. For example:
Gambler: (to the gamemaster) This side of the spaceport looks familiar. Do I know anyone around here?
Gamemaster: Let's see... (The gamemaster rolls the gambler's streetwise skill in secret.) Well, you used to do business with a crystal runner named Slavca around here. Course, that was back around the time when you got caught dealing those bad droid circuits. And Slavca's got a real long memory.
Gambler: Oops! Maybe I'd better avoid him.
Gamemaster: Speaking of avoiding things, here he comes down the street. In fact, he's noticed you too.
Gambler: What's he doing?
Gamemaster: It looks like he's going for something inside his coat...
Contacts do not even have to be characters to be of assistance. For example, the gamemaster wants to pit the gambler against another shrewd-thinking gambler. As the player is searching a local data-exchange for potential deals, the gamemaster decides this is the perfect opportunity for the player to find out about the other gambler:
Gambler: (to the gamemaster) I'm scanning for the local news. Arrests. Announcements. The usual stuff.
Gamemaster: Well, there are a few items of interest. A new Imperial governor has been installed on this world. An obituary is listed for a prominent corporate official. Cause of death is listed as suspicious; the local patrol is investigating. A bounty of 10,000 credits has been placed on a criminal named Jacome Zeno — he's wanted for fraud.
Gambler: Is the name familiar to me?
Gamemaster: The more you think of it, yes, it does sound familiar. Zeno's got a shady rep. A real swindler and con artist. Dupes poor stupid natives into buying useless things like atmosphere insurance. You know the line: "... air today, gone tomorrow ..."
Gambler: Hmm. I'm no bounty hunter, but if I can find this Zeno creep for the authorities, people might think I'm some kind of hero. And they give heroes lots of valuable stuff, like medals and commissions, don't they?
Gamemaster: Well, that's what you've heard ...
Making the Deal
When the gambler actually sits down to conduct business with a client, what follows is a well-established ritual of bartering, haggling, insulting, and general prodding until some form of agreement is reached. This is called making the deal. Players and gamemasters might roleplay such a bargaining session differently (or may not even roleplay at all).
For the purposes of the adventure, judging a deal's outcome can be broken down into separate segments. After each segment, the gambler or prospective client will make a bargain, con or similar dice roll. The result of the dice and the participants' skills serve as an indication of how well the deal is progressing. Roleplaying and dialogue among the participants should always be encouraged by the gamemaster during the various segments:
The Opening: Gamblers enjoy their reputations as crafty negotiators. The opening segment should be a reflection of the character's personality and reputation. Just babbling about credits right from the start is the sign of a poor deal maker.
Mildly insulting the client is an acceptable form of opening (unless the client takes it the wrong way) — "So Ploovo, how's the beak since that Han Solo pirate put the bite on you?" Establishing confidence or a lack of fear is another way of opening negotiations with a client — "So there were these five Imperial cruisers, but I took care of them ..." After making their opening line, gamblers may use their bargain, con or persuasion skills, or their Perception attribute.
Level of Difficulty: Very Easy to Easy.
Skill Roll Effects: A good result indicates that the client is suitably impressed and wishes to continue. A poor result or failure could mean that the client is either personally insulted (a complication on the Wild Die could mean that the client goes for his or her blaster) or believes the gambler is too reckless.
The Transaction: During the transaction segment, the actual specifics of the deal are explained. Roleplaying should be emphasized until the deal and all certain points concerning the transaction have been completely laid out. If a client is offering business to the gambler, the gambler needs to make a value or business skill or Knowledge attribute check to see if the business is worth his or her attention. On the other hand, if the gambler is trying to offer business to the client, then it is the gamemaster who must make a value, business or Knowledge check to see if the client is willing to do business with the gambler.
Level of Difficulty: Easy to Moderate.
Example One: The client is offering a cache of restricted blasters to the gambler. The gambler makes make a value skill roll to see if the deal is worth the risk.
Example Two: The gambler is trying to buy the services of a freighter pilot to transport a load of restricted blasters past an Imperial blockade. The gamemaster (as the freighter pilot) makes a value roll to see if the deal is worth his skin.
Skill Roll Effects: If the gambler succeeds with the value, business or Knowledge check, then the gamemaster would reveal the level of risk involved and the general value of the transaction. It is not necessary to use credits or numbers to express the actual value; descriptive words from the Gambler's Vocabulary can be used. If the gambler fails to make the skill or attribute roll, then the player must use his or her own judgement to determine whether to continue with the deal or not.
If the gamemaster is making the value, business or Knowledge roll for the client and succeeds, then the client is either interested in pursuing the gambler's business or not (depending on the risk involved); a failed roll would indicate that the client is willing to take up on the gambler's offer no matter what the risk.
The Price: What everything boils down to is credits. The gambler and client now haggle for how much the transaction will cost using their bargaining skills (characters who lack the bargain skill should use their Perception attribute.) The price segment involves an offer, followed by a counter-offer, and is settled by a decision. The character offering the deal usually makes the initial offer.
Level of Difficulty: Moderate to Difficult, depending on the difference between offer and counter-offer. The greater the difference between offer and counter-offer, the greater the difficulty. Use the bargaining rules on page 82 of Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game, Second Edition to come to a decision on any price.
A gambler who rolls the bargain skill well enough during the price segment of a deal can also determine if a client is purposefully setting an asking offer that is too low or too high. A low offer might be a flagrant attempt to obtain services cheaply, while an unusually high offer could mean there are more risks involved then the client is actually admitting.
How Much is it Worth?
How much should a deal pay? Costs for general pieces of equipment, like weapons and vehicles, are listed in the Star Wars Second Edition rules and other sourcebooks. However, smuggling or stealing can double or even triple the cost of an item. Other circumstances, like availability, restrictions and Imperial tariffs can also raise the cost of an item. Costs for certain restricted commodities, like spice, are up to the gamemaster's discretion. Gamemasters should pay particular attention when setting the initial value of a transaction. As a rule, most clients want to pay as little as possible.
Reina and Rollos: Three
"You killed him!" Reina clenched her fists as she rose from Rollos' fallen form, eyes filling with tears as she searched for her fallen hold-out blaster. Failing to do so, she reached for the slim vibro-shiv she kept hidden in her boot sheath. One of the robed figures extended a finger to his face in a silencing gesture and spoke in an almost parental voice.
"A necessary precaution. Your friend is not dead," he pointed beyond the courtyard opening. "Now please keep still. And keep very, very quiet." The one with the odd gun flagged the group's attention from his sentry position at the courtyard opening.
"Two on the way," he whispered as he exchanged the weapon for a familiar-looking heavy blaster. Before Reina could speak, the other three had taken up positions beside her and Rollos in the courtyard shadows.
Seconds later, two patrol officers on foot duty appeared. Crouched near Rollos, Reina checked the fallen Gigoran's respiration and pulse. He was barely breathing. In fact, it almost sounded like he was snoring. Gritting her teeth, she was tempted to summon the officers when she overheard them.
"Witness said they went down this way."
"What's the description again?"
"Female Human, young with sandy-blonde hair. Considered dangerous. The other's definitely alien. Dispatch called it some kind of a Wookiee. Could be something else. Whatever it is, it took out a whole squad."
"We'd better not take any chances. Set your blaster to kill. We can explain the mess later."
Reina's vibro-shiv slipped from her sweating hand and struck the courtyard floor with a distinct ping. One of the pair turned his head, his hand instinctively moving to his holster.
"What was that?"
They both took a step towards the courtyard, trying to peer into the darkness with their enhanced helmet visors. The robed figure who had silenced Reina turned to another from his group.
"Ivey, if you wouldn't mind?"
Reina watched dumbly as slim hands pulled back the draping crimson hood, revealing the face of a rather beautiful, dark-skinned woman. She connected her portable computer to her comlink headset and pressed a key switch. A rather officious-sounding voice came over the officers' helmet receivers.
"To all patrol units in sector H. Alert status two. Robbery in progress at district grid beta four. Two suspects armed with energy weapons."
One tapped his partner on the shoulder. "C'mon. There's an alert."
The other officer took one last look in the courtyard before he and the sounds of boot clacks on stone finally receded.
Reina snatched up the fallen shiv, preparing to plunge it into the robed man beside her, when the same hand which had dragged her into the courtyard clamped down firmly on her wrist.
"No need to thank us. Really." The man pulled back the robe's hood with his free hand, revealing an expression of determination edged as if in granite. Reina gasped — she had seen this face on bounty hunter lists and Pentastar Alignment wanted files across the entire sector. As the others pulled their hoods back, she slowly began to realize who she was in the company of.
"I don't believe this! You're the Red Moons!"
The beautiful woman with the headset laughed. "Did you hear that, Colonel? We're famous."
Colonel Andrephan Stormcaller, recently retired from New Republic forces, also found it difficult not to smile. "So it would appear."
A stout, brown-furred Trusk sidled up to them, holstering his heavy blaster in a custom harness that held several grenades and an assortment of hand weapons.
"The one and only Red Moons. In the flesh. Or the fur, depending on your point of view." He bowed deeply as he took Reina's sore hand and kissed it. "Sully Tigereye, at madam's service."
"What did you do to my friend?!" Reina hissed as she snatched her hand back.
Stormcaller replied matter-of-factly, as calmly as before. "It was necessary to keep your big bouncy friend quiet, and you under wraps, what with all these patrol units looking for you. No offense, but we'd prefer the patrol was not alerted to our presence in Nexus City."
"Well maybe if you'd explained that first before grabbing me and shooting my friend!"
Stormcaller turned to the statuesque female member of the Red Moon mercenary unit. "Ivey, if you'd please see to the patient before the young lady here starts pulling thermal detonators from her person."
The woman slipped out a medical scanner and quickly ran it over the prone Gigoran. "Hugo's bioinduction gun worked like a charm." She reassured Reina with a nod. "He's going to be fine."
"Of course it worked!" The fourth member of the Red Moons indignantly stepped forward, a lanky young man with a tousled mane of hair. "For most creatures, it's simply a matter of sending enough electrical energy to overcome the brain's hypo-reflexive cortex to induce a state of natural rest."
Reina folded her arms, balancing the vibro-shiv between her fingers. "So what did the goof say?"
"What the goof said," Ivey explained, "is that your friend is sound asleep."
Reina looked back at the Gigoran all curled up on the floor. Rollos really was snoring! She suddenly had a new appreciation for the lanky young engineer, even if he did act a little strange. "How'd you do that again?"
"Actually, bioinduction won't work on Humans, Rodians, Devaronians or certain other species. In fact, it's sort of complicated ..." Before Hugo Cutter could finish though, Stormcaller had draped an arm protectively around Reina's shoulder as he slowly lead her away.
"... And he would be more than happy to explain it to you some other time. Right now, I'd like to discuss a little bit of business."
"You want to do business with me?" Reina pointed her thumb at herself. "Why?"
"Call it a scientifically rationalized hunch. Anyhow, I believe we just saved you a long vacation on some Alignment internment world, courtesy of the boys in black and their pets from the Pentastar Patrol. That must be worth something."
"How about a really well-meant thank you and a hearty farewell?" The former New Republic colonel stood back and sized her up. "I thought your kind liked challenges. Beating the odds. Making a nice-sized fortune in credits."
He watched her eyes light up at the mention of credits clinking off somewhere in the distance. Still, her survival instinct was strong. "Sure I do. But I'd like to be around to spend my fortune, if you don't mind. Besides, I'm no mercenary warrior. And I don't like doing business with people who look as out of place as you and your people do."
"I see. What did you expect mercenaries to look like?" He handed her hold-out blaster back. She stared at it blankly, unable to recall when he had exactly taken it. "We're not asking you to join our ranks. We just want the plans to the security layout for the Lunar Night festivities coming up next week."
Entralla's Lunar Night was a big affair throughout the entire planet, a celebration carried over from long in the past. The feature of the festivities was the Parade of Ghosts in the historic district, a tribute to mythical Entrallan warriors. The Alignment tolerated the festivities if only for the commerce and tourism it brought. If Reina remembered correctly, it was the only night of the year when Entralla's moon would pass very close to the planet, looming like a huge red star overhead. With a number of Alignment Chamber of Order officials and all kinds of important types in attendance, it would be the perfect night to do something big and political, especially if your organization was just happened to be named ...
"So, who are you going to kill during the Parade of Ghosts?"
Stormcaller frowned at this. Reina slowly began to realize that she did not quite know this man as she had first believed. He removed a Sevari spice-laced cigar from his upper pocket and lit it, blowing a contrail of aromatic smoke into the courtyard's darkness.
"That's exactly what Protectorate Branch will be expecting. Security will naturally be tighter than a Hutt clutching his purse on his deathbed. So let's just say for now that we're going to do something unexpected."
"And how am I supposed to get security plans for something as big as the Lunar Night parade? They don't exactly publish those in the local info-exchange."
"But you are Reina Gale. Maker of deals." Begas Tok's words from earlier echoed in the back of her head, antagonizing her. "I'm sure you'll figure something out. In the meantime," he tossed her a small pouch that jingled with metal currency "Here's 5,000 to cover your expenses, considering Tok planted a register code on the 20 he paid you at the spaceport."
Stunned, Reina pulled out the small bag Tok had given her and let the credits fall into her hands. Ivey, who had been standing quietly behind them, picked up one of the credits and passed a data wand from her portable computer unit over it. She glanced at the readout. "Registered with Pentastar Trust and Safety Assurance here on Entralla. They've already been tagged as stolen. Just about worthless with any commercial transaction." Reina snatched the credit back from her.
"I can clean them. I know someone who can erase the register codes."
Ivey shook her head, "That'll take time."
"And we know that you've invested almost every credit you had into Tok's crystal deal." Stormcaller added quickly. "Admit it Reina. You're broke and you're stuck here on Entralla with the ITAC Authority and the patrol hopping mad to find you."
Reina's mind whirled. How did the Red Moons know so much about her? They had taken Rollos down without so much as a whimper, and could probably send Pentastar Patrol Officers anywhere they pleased using the patrol's own secure comlink channels. But for what purpose? One thing was certain — they certainly didn't act like any profit-mongering bunch she had dealt with in the past.
A loud roar, like an airspeeder passing by, filled the courtyard. Rollos had awakened, yawning a great gasp with all the subtlety of a starfighter on takeoff. He was watching Sully Tigereye and Hugo Cutter as they exchanged their flowing sect robes for maintenance crew jumpsuits.
Reina went over to her friend's side and rubbed a shaggy ear. "How are you feeling?" A happy chirp came the Gigoran. "Ya' big lughead. You probably slept better than the both of us in years." The huge creature swiped at her playfully with a paw.
"Well?"
Reina turned around to face the serious expressions of Stormcaller and Ivey. Well, this colonel-turned-mercenary leader had been partially right about her. She really did like challenges. She offered Stormcaller her hand.
"Five thousand now, plus 5,000 more when I get you the plans, and it's a done deal."
Rollos
Type: Gigoran
DEXTERITY 4D
Brawling parry 7D, dodge 6D, melee combat 7D, melee parry 7D, running 7D
KNOWLEDGE 1D+1
MECHANICAL 1D
PERCEPTION 4D+2
Search: tracking 7D+2
STRENGTH 6D
Brawling 8D+2, climbing/jumping 7D
TECHNICAL 1D
Character Points: 8
Move: 12
Special Abilities:
Bashing: Adult Gigorans possess huge upper body strength and heavy paws which enable them to swat at some objects with tremendous force. Increase the character's Strength attribute dice by +1D when figuring damage for a brawling attack that involves bashing an object.
Personal Ties: Gigorans are very family-oriented creatures; they will sacrifice even their own lives to protect a close personal friend or family member from harm.
Gigorans are huge, bipedal creatures covered in long white or pale-colored hair. They have been confused with wampa ice creatures, Wookiees, and other ferocious species. In fact, it is a Gigoran's huge size and strength that sometimes leaves the impression that they are always violent by nature. This is not true, as most Gigorans are normally peaceful and quite docile in their native environment.
However, Rollos is not currently in his native environment. Instead, he is in a place filled with strange structures and dwellings, interesting moving things, and many, many different kinds of beings. Although Rollos can understand Basic, he simply cannot comprehend the amazing technology all around him. He regards droids as cute mechanical toys, and hardly believes that there are actually people inside those walking pieces of white stormtrooper armor (some might find that hard to believe too). Rollos' curiosity sometimes gets the better of him, as he will stare for hours at a blinking computer screen, automated home maintenance droid, or other piece of entertaining electronic equipment.
Rollos is fiercely loyal to Reina, so much so that it is difficult to separate him from her side. He regards her as family, and will do anything in his power to protect her from harm. His background before his arrival and rescue by Reina is a mystery, even though Reina has made several attempts to locate the Sullustan who originally brought him to the slaver camp, to no avail.
Shadows of Darkness
by Charlene Newcomb
Illustrations by Mike Vilardi
The scene had become all too familiar in the city of Ariana. Six stormtroopers emerged from the transport. They moved efficiently up the old stone steps to the house. Blaster rifles were ready for any sign of trouble. TK-121 glanced at his comrades and nodded his head. He blasted the door and four of the troopers burst into the house.
Its occupants had been asleep, but were jolted awake by the sound of the door being destroyed. Carl Barzon appeared at his bedroom door.
"What is the meaning of this?" he demanded as TK-718 pushed past him into the bedroom.
"Let me go!" his son demanded, fighting against two troopers who dragged him from another room.
"No one else here, sir," TK-718 reported.
"All right. Put him on the transport," TK-121 ordered.
"Where are you taking my son?" Dr. Barzon asked. "He has done nothing wrong!"
The stormtroopers ignored Barzon's pleas as Cord Barzon was roughly escorted from the house. The younger man saw the pain in his father's eyes.
"Father, don't worry. It will be all right," he called back to him.
Barzon watched in horror as they took his only family away. He'd never felt so helpless. Leaning against the door frame, he watched the transport pull away and realized how ironic it was that the Imperials had arrested his son. Cord, a student at the university where Barzon taught and conducted research, had never been involved in underground resistance activities here on Garos. And he didn't even suspect his father's role with that group. Dr. Barzon always anticipated stormtroopers would show up at his door one day — but to arrest him, not his son.
Now, they'd just forced Cord to go. And there was nothing Carl Barzon could do about it.
Two wild boetays howled in the distance. A flock of crupas flew overhead, silhouetted against one of Garos' moons. The creatures of the night were headed east toward the valley as the winds turned cold in the mountains surrounding the mining center.
Chance watched the crupas disappear above the tree canopy, then turned his attention back to the Imperial mining complex. It was the first time he'd been this close in a while — increased Imperial patrols and sensors south of Ariana had prevented the underground from direct observation for the last several months.
"Well, LG," he said, using a nickname that stood for little girl, something he'd called his comrade since their first recon mission almost four years earlier, "I heard that you were the one who found us this hole in the sensor net."
"With the right equipment on an airspeeder, you can do all kinds of neat tricks," 20-year-old Alex Winger replied. Not to mention that Air Defense wasn't as likely to shoot down her father's airspeeder. They'd grown used to Alex's crazy stunts, politely reminding her to leave the restricted flight zone. Being the daughter of Garos' Imperial governor did have its benefits.
"Yeah," he said with a big grin, "the right equipment and the right pilot!"
Alex trained her macrobinoculars on the mine entrance. "Looks like it's shift change time," she said. Fifty miners, all dressed in the same gray jumpsuits, emerged from the mines with a stormtrooper escort. Lights around the complex illuminated tired expressions on the miners' dirt-smeared faces. They trudged across the compound toward prison barracks.
"They've got it down to a routine now." Chance's smile turned to a scowl as he pulled his hood tighter around his head to ward off the cold. "What do you think," he asked as he scanned the rest of the complex, "ten or twelve hours 'til they finish that shuttle platform?"
Alex studied the structure rising on the southwestern side of the complex. "No longer than that," she agreed.
Chance couldn't take his eyes off that landing platform as he weighed possible options. "You know, LG, we could hit it with the Plex. Range is about 200 meters from here. Two or three shots ought to do some major damage," he told her.
"And bring down half the Imperial forces of Garos on us!" she reminded him. "Our escape options are pretty poor on this side of the complex, Chance. The only way out is to the east. And they'd close that gap so fast —
"So, you don't think it's worth the risk?"
Alex shook her head. "That stockpiled ore doesn't seem to be going anywhere. There hasn't been a Star Destroyer here for a pickup in months. Wish we heard more news about what's going on out there," she said, cocking her head toward the stars. "It's been so quiet."
"Yeah." He took a drink from his thermajug, leaned back against a small boulder, and stared into the star-filled sky.
Alex noticed the look in Chance's eyes. He really didn't belong here. Like her, he had the stars in his blood. "I've always felt that my destiny is somewhere up there," she told him. "You're not from Garos either, are you, Chance?"
He turned, recognizing a variety of emotions in her voice, and wondering how she knew. He'd never told anyone about his past.
"Right," he said.
Alex sighed. "I was brought here when I was six. My family was killed during an Imperial raid," she said quietly as distant screams pierced her mind. She could barely remember the grandparents who were raising her then. She'd been left in their care by a father she remembered even less, a father who probably didn't realize she was still alive. But memories of the raid were vivid after all these years.
"I —" Chance paused, deciding against telling her what he knew about her past, or his own. He reached over and touched her hand gently. "I'm sorry," he finally said. He'd been there when they found the unconscious six-year-old buried in the rubble. He'd seen firsthand the destruction caused by the Empire he once served. It had changed her life — and it had changed his.
She shook off her sad thoughts. "Do you believe in fate, Chance?"
"You mean, that because of what happened to your family, you ended up on Garos working for the underground? Well, yeah," he nodded his head, "I'd call that fate, LG."
She smiled at him. "So, when do I hear your story, my friend?" "Someday," he replied. "Maybe."
Dim lighting gave the impression of eternal night in the underground resistance's operations center. But buried deep beneath Imperial Headquarters, the place was crewed around the clock by ops huddled over communications equipment and computers that lit their faces with a soft bluish glow. The passage of time was evident only by a chrono which hung above the door.
When Alex entered the room at 0800, she nodded to ops at the comm intercept stations and waved to another friend making notations on the master display across the room. Then she noticed Mika Kaebra urgently pointing her in the direction of Magir Paca's office.
She glanced toward the transparent wall that separated Paca's sparsely furnished office from the main operations room. A feeling of dread swept over her. For a brief moment, a vision of a snowy mountainside, a vision she'd had many times, filled her senses.
Carl Barzon sat with his head buried in his hands. Magir Paca, one of the leaders of the resistance, was bent over him, his hand offering a comforting touch on the doctor's shoulder.
"What's wrong?" Alex asked as she entered the room.
Barzon looked up at Alex, his eyes filled with grief. She'd never seen him like this.
"They took my son, Alex! They took Cord!" he exclaimed.
Alex Winger
Type: Underground freedom fighter
DEXTERITY 3D+1
Blaster 7D, dodge 5D, grenade 4D, heavy weapons 5D, melee 5D+2, melee parry 5D+1
KNOWLEDGE 3D+1
Alien species 5D, bureaucracy 6D, cultures 5D, languages 3D+2, planetary systems 4D+1, streetwise 4D+2, survival 5D+1, value 5D
MECHANICAL 3D+1
Astrogation 4D+2, beast riding 4D, repulsorlift operation 6D
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 5D, command 6D, con 5D+1, hide 5D+2, search 5D+1, sneak 5D+2
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 4D, climbing/jumping 5D, lifting 3D+1, stamina 6D+1
TECHNICAL 3D
Computer programming/repair 5D+2, demolition 5D, droid programming 5D+1, repulsorlift repair 4D+2, security 4D+1
Special Abilities:
Force Skills: Sense 1D
Sense: Life detection
Force Sensitive: Yes
Force Points: 6
Character Points: 12
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), blaster rifle (5D), comlink, detonite with timer, macrobinoculars
Alex Winger is a 20-year-old freedom fighter. She has extensive knowledge of the resistance movement on Garos IV, one of only a few field operatives reporting directly to its leaders. As the daughter (by adoption) of Imperial Governor Tork Winger of Garos IV, she also is in the unique position of being privy to many aspects of Imperial business on her homeworld. She often serves as hostess at receptions for Imperial diplomats and officers, and has accompanied her father on official business.
Alex is a Force-sensitive individual. She experiences visions, some of which have come true. At times, she has been able to sense danger, but she has not learned how to call on this power at will.
Ultimately, Alex and her friends in the underground realize they will need the help of the New Republic to remove the Imperial threat from Garos IV. They try to maintain hope, doing what little they can against ever-increasing odds.
"Who?" she asked, though she already knew the answer.
"Imperial stormtroopers! They came to the house during the night and took him away!"
Alex looked at Paca. "Is he being held at Headquarters?" she asked him, hoping they might be able to free Cord before he was taken to the mines.
"He's gone, Alex," Barzon answered.
"Gone?"
"They've already moved him to the mining center," Paca told her. "He wasn't brought to Imperial Headquarters for interrogation like the others."
Did that mean the Imperials knew Cord Barzon was not a member of the underground? What were they up to? An alarm went off in Alex's mind. The Empire had been extremely interested in Doctor Barzon's research on the ore from the Garosian mines and its possible use in cloaking technology. They'd tried numerous times to persuade him to work harder. Since bribery hadn't seemed to work, would they use his son as a pawn?
Alex sat down across from Barzon and took his hands into hers. "We'll find out what's going on, Doctor."
He nodded his head, wondering what good that knowledge would do them. They couldn't go after Cord. The mining center was too well defended. And Carl Barzon knew it better than anyone.
"Will you be okay?" she asked him.
"I have no choice, Alex." He took a deep breath and stood up to leave. "I must go to the University now. I have a class to teach."
As they watched him depart, a chill crawled up Alex's spine — that snowy mountainside flickered in her mind again. Why? she wondered.
"He'll be all right," Paca said, though the tone of his voice indicated he wasn't wholly convinced.
"Do you think this was a random pickup, Paca?" Alex asked.
Paca rubbed a hand over weary eyes. "No. It's got to be a setup," he said, echoing her thoughts. "I'll talk to Carl again later and see how he feels about disappearing for a while."
"You'll never convince him to go into hiding, Paca," Alex told him. "He knows what the Empire will do to Cord."
Paca knew too. "Damn," he said quietly. Then he remembered that Alex had come to report on Imperial activities around the mines. "So, Alex, could the daughter of Garos' Imperial Governor possibly have any good news for us this morning?"
"I wish I did," she groaned. "Our Imperial friends are extremely busy. They're working right through the night. We counted 50 miners per four-hour shift. And they moved two more of those containers of ore to the holding area. It's under heavy guard."
Carl Barzon
Dr. Carl Barzon is a professor and research scientist at the University of Garos in Ariana. He has spent more than 25 years quietly researching the natural cloaking properties of the ore hibridium, which is only found on the western coastline of the main continent on Garos IV.
Barzon became involved with the underground shortly after the Empire established a presence on Garos IV. His greatest fear is that the Imperials will complete the research he has begun on hibridium, and develop weapons which would help secure their hold on the galaxy.
Type: Professor, underground leader
DEXTERITY 2D
Blaster 4D, brawling parry 3D, dodge 2D+2
KNOWLEDGE 3D+1
Alien species 6D, bureaucracy 5D, cultures 5D+2, languages 6D, planetary systems 4D+2, scholar: geology 8D, survival 4D+1, value 6D
MECHANICAL 2D+1
PERCEPTION 3D
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 3D+2
Computer programming/repair 4D, droid programming 4D+2, droid repair 4D+2
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 4
Move: 10
Equipment: Datapad
"Hmm. Our intercept ops haven't heard a thing about a pickup yet, but it looks like they're expecting one soon."
"Well, they'll be able to move the ore right from the mines up to ships in orbit. The shuttle landing platform will be operational within four to five hours."
Paca cursed silently to himself. He'd worked with the underground for years, yet he'd never felt so powerless.
They'd lost an entire underground cell two weeks earlier — five operatives — when the Empire began this rounding up action. Not to mention increased security, the shuttle platform, stockpiled ore, and now Carl's son abducted. And there was nothing he could do about any of it. He shook his head in disgust.
Alex sensed his despondency. But perhaps even more than Paca realized, she knew that Cord Barzon's arrest could touch lives far beyond Garos IV. She shuddered to think what might happen if Carl Barzon was forced to complete his research. Could nothing be done to stop the Empire?
The door into Paca's office slid open, and Alex felt a cold blast of air as the room seemed to fade around her. Suddenly, she found herself dangling from a rope, clinging to the snow-covered mountain of her visions —
"Alex, take my hand!"
Through the swirling snow, a hand reached out to her. She struggled to touch fingertips just beyond her grasp. Her hand scraped against bare rock, then over the icy slope. Fingertip met fingertip, only to be torn apart by a sweeping rush of wind — and Alex fell into a dark abyss —
"No!" she cried out.
"Alex, what is it? Are you okay?" Paca asked, reaching over to touch her arm. He'd never seen such a frightened look in her eyes.
She shook her head to clear the vision, then glanced quickly from Paca to her chrono trying to hide the flood of emotions that overcame her.
That vision — she'd had that vision a dozen times over the last two years. That's not how it happens, a voice in the back of her mind screamed. The hands! They'd always met before! The man from her vision had always pulled her to safety. I don't understand!
"I — I'd better get going or I'll be late for class," she finally managed to say.
"Are you sure you're okay?"
"Yeah, I'm fine," she told him, but that spark that had always given him hope was gone.
"Okay." He didn't know what else to say.
Sidebar: Adventure Idea
The characters, members of the underground freedom fighters on Garos IV, overhear a conversation between Imperial officers at the local pub. They are discussing the arrests of suspected resistance leaders in the city. The characters catch the mention of two names and leave to warn their colleagues. They arrive just ahead of the Imperial stormtroopers and have to outwit them to get away with their fellow freedom fighters and lead them past other Imperial patrols and blockades to safety.
Imperial Governor Tork Winger entered the foyer of the mansion and stared blankly around the room. He felt tired, more tired than he'd felt in years. Maybe it was his age. Perhaps he was getting too old to deal with politics and its intrigues.
Winger sighed, glancing at the ancient timepiece in the foyer ... 2200. He'd missed dinner with Alexandra this evening. Since she'd moved to the university several months earlier, they'd made special dinner dates once a week. And now he wouldn't be able to see her. He frowned. That would have been the one bright spot of this entire day.
He heard a movement at the top of the stairs. He looked up, his tired eyes catching sight of his lovely young daughter.
"Alexandra!" he exclaimed. "I didn't expect to find you here. I thought you would have gone back into town." He suddenly realized she wasn't smiling. No, more than that — there was an uncharacteristic glint of anger in her eyes.
Alex rushed down the stairs. "Father, what is going on?"
"What's wrong, Alexandra?"
"A friend of mine was arrested by stormtroopers last night! They dragged him from his home in the middle of the night!"
"Who was it?" he asked.
"Cord Barzon."
"Dr. Barzon's son?" Winger was as surprised as Alex was angry. "Perhaps Cord was working for the underground."
"Cord? Father, I've known him for years. That is ridiculous!"
"I'm sure there is a rational explanation for this, Alexandra. Tomorrow we will —"
"Father, you know the Imperials are just snatching people from their homes. They aren't looking for the underground! They don't care who they take!"
"Alexandra, please —"
She ran from the room to the patio overlooking the Tahika Cliffs. So many times Alex found comfort gazing at the surf pounding the cliffs. But not tonight. She trembled with anger. She clenched a fist, closing her eyes. An overwhelming feeling of helplessness threatened to overtake her.
Hadn't it only been a few months before she'd been confident that the New Republic would push toward Garos? But then there had been rumors of a Grand Admiral and a renewed offensive by the Empire. Help seemed farther away than ever. Could this Grand Admiral succeed where the Emperor and Lord Vader had failed?
Suddenly, a voice spoke to her through the darkness. It sounded so familiar, yet she'd never heard these words before — Remember, Alex. Fear and anger are the dark side of the Force. Calm. You must be calm —
"Alexandra?" another voice called to her.
Alex opened her eyes. Her father had come up beside her. "I'm sorry about Cord, Alexandra," he said, taking her hand gently.
She looked into his eyes. "I know, Father. It's not your fault. I didn't mean to yell at you."
He squeezed her hand. "These are hard times, Alexandra."
"But does that justify the use of force against innocent people?" she asked him, wishing she could tell him what she really thought about his Empire.
He took a deep breath and sighed. "No," he admitted. "Let me see what I can find out about young Barzon."
"Thank you, Father," she said as she wrapped her arms around him and planted a kiss on his cheek.
"Listen, my dear, can I count on your help at a reception day after tomorrow for the senior officers of the Star Destroyer Tempest?"
Tork Winger
Type: Imperial Governor of Garos IV
DEXTERITY 2D+1
Blaster 6D
KNOWLEDGE 3D+2
Alien species 8D, bureaucracy 9D+2, cultures 8D+2, languages 8D, planetary systems 8D+2, survival 5D, value 6D
MECHANICAL 3D
Astrogation 5D+1, repulsorlift operation 5D, starship piloting 5D+2
PERCEPTION 4D
Bargain 10D, command 10D+1, con 9D
STRENGTH 2D+2
TECHNICAL 2D+1
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 4
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster (4D), datapad
Tork Winger was one of the first Garosians to enter the service of the Old Republic about 50 years ago. After serving five years in the army, Winger returned to Garos, and thanks to his family's position, he moved quickly up through the diplomatic ranks. Eventually he was chosen to serve as Imperial Governor of Garos IV by Emperor Palpatine.
Now, five years after the Battle of Endor, Tork Winger watches as events beyond his control affect the life he has envisioned for his daughter Alexandra. For she is the one truly bright spot in his life. Though she is adopted, he adores her, and wants only the best for her. He would do anything for her.
"Tempest is returning to Garos? It's been months since we've had any visitors."
"Yes, I hope it's a sign that the Grand Admiral's offensive is a success. Perhaps we shall have a victory celebration!"
"Yes," she forced a smile, and laid her head against his shoulder. "I can't wait to hear their news."
"It's a bit chilly out tonight," Winger observed.
"You'd better get inside, Father. You know this cold air isn't good for you," she reminded him.
"All right, my dear."
"I'll come inside soon," she told him.
"Here," he said, placing his jacket around her shoulders. "Just a few minutes now."
"Okay," she said as he left her alone on the patio.
One of Garos' moons peeked through the trees. It cast a gleam of light across the shadows that darkened the grounds around the mansion. Alex watched the light dance and felt her spirits lift. Wherever there is light, there is hope, she told herself.
Yes, there was still hope — there always would be hope, even during the darkest hours they were yet to face.
Alex turned her gaze up into the skies. And instead of feeling frightened, she found strength. The Force would be with them.
The peacefulness of the Garosian late night was broken by the screeching of heavy machinery. Cranes on top of the shuttle platform hoisted ore containers from the forest floor.
Security was even tighter than on their previous recon mission near the mines. Chance and Alex had been forced to relocate twice during the last hour because of increased scout troopers roaming the hillsides around the mining center. Stormtroopers patrolled the complex. Others stood guard near the containers that were being moved.
"Shh!"
"Not again," he murmured, looking around for sign of troopers. "Listen," Alex said.
Chance's brow crinkled in concentration. The symphonic rustling of tree branches and crooning of crupas were drowned out by noises emanating from the complex. He couldn't hear anything else. Then he noticed that Alex had her macrobinoculars trained upward, scanning the skies.
Suddenly, through a break in the trees and coming over the mountains that skirted the nearby cliffs, he spotted the shuttle. He couldn't believe she'd heard it. Even as the craft drew closer, the sound of its engines was barely audible as it came in to land on the platform.
"Cargo vessel," he observed. "I'm not sure of the type." Alex nodded. Here to pick up some ore for transport to the Tempest. Looked as if the underground would have no chance to stop this shipment.
Chance let his macros drop around his neck and noticed the frown on Alex's face. "You're not thinking what I think you're thinking," he said, wondering if she was reconsidering using the Plex against that shuttle platform.
"No," she said wistfully. Suddenly, she jerked her head to scan the hillsides behind them. She turned quickly back to Chance and held a finger up to her lips. He still heard nothing, but caught a movement through the trees about 20 meters from their position.
"C'mon, this way," he whispered.
Two scout troopers were patrolling on foot. They hadn't spotted their quarry, but it was evident that sensors had tipped them off to a presence nearby. Fortunately for Chance and Alex, the troopers had been unable to pinpoint them because sensors didn't work well around the mines.
Alex crawled behind Chance through the thick underbrush and realized there were more than two troopers. Obviously, they'd called for reinforcements. At least a half dozen more were trying to encircle them.
"They're all over the place," Chance whispered back to her. "We'd better split up," she told him.
"Okay, head for the speeder," he said. "And don't wait for me."
Alex turned north, hoping the troopers wouldn't expect her to head toward the perimeter fence that skirted the mining center. With a little luck she could slip right through their trap. She took one look back and saw Chance disappear over a ridge heading east.
Two scout troopers did pass about 10 meters to either side of her. Noise from the mining center masked her footsteps over fallen branches. She moved quickly through the hills, then headed east to find the speeder she and Chance had hidden in one of Garos' many caves.
Two kilometers later, with no sign of pursuit, she felt safe. Then blaster fire erupted off to her right. Alex moved toward it. Through the trees she spotted Chance, on his knees and cradling his right arm. Moonlight reflected off white armor. One lone scout trooper stood there, with a blaster pointed at Chance's head. His comrades wouldn't be far behind. Alex knew there wasn't much time.
Oh, how she wished to hear those screeching cranes near the mining center now! They were just a distant hum, not nearly loud enough to allow a stealthy approach. She only had one choice.
Okay, Alex. One shot, and it's got to be a good one. She took a deep breath and brought her blaster rifle up to bear on the scout trooper. She aimed and fired. The blast lit the hillside for a split second before the trooper fell.
"You okay?" Alex asked as she ran up to Chance.
"I'll make it, LG. Thanks," he smiled at her. "C'mon, his bike's over there — agh!" He made the mistake of pointing with his wounded arm and grimaced aloud.
"Better hurry!" she said, helping him to his feet. She could already hear the distant whine of other speeder bikes. "We're gonna have company."
They climbed on the bike. Chance sat behind Alex, grasping her waist with his good arm. Alex revved up the engine, punched a button to jam the other troopers' communications, and hit the accelerator.
Chance
Type: Underground freedom fighter
DEXTERITY 3D+2
Blaster 7D, brawling parry 5D, dodge 5D+2, grenade 6D, heavy weapons 6D, melee 5D+1, melee parry 6D, vehicle blasters 6D
KNOWLEDGE 2D+1
Alien species 3D, planetary systems 3D+1, streetwise 5D, survival 6D, value 5D
MECHANICAL 3D
Astrogation 3D+2, repulsorlift operation 5D+1
PERCEPTION 2D+2
Command 6D+1, con 6D+1, hide 5D, search 6D, sneak 6D+1
STRENGTH 3D+1
Brawling 4D, climbing/jumping 4D+1, stamina 4D+2
TECHNICAL 3D
Demolition 6D
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 5
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), comlink, macrobinoculars
Chance is a quiet man. He is 36 years old and a native of Corellia. Unbeknownst to his colleagues, he arrived on Garos IV with one of the first groups of Imperials. He had been in the Imperial Navy for two years when his ship, the Star Destroyer Judicator, arrived on Garos IV. Chance accompanied a detachment down to the planet and jumped ship. He had witnessed firsthand the destruction caused by the Empire during a raid that took the lives of thousands of innocent people.
Fate led him to be at the wrong place at the wrong time — he was caught in the middle of an underground raid on an Imperial supply convoy, and lent a helping hand to the freedom fighters. He's been working with them ever since.
No one questions his expertise with weapons. He is most skilled at all types of demolition work. He knows more about explosive devices than most of his comrades. He is also a sharpshooter extraordinaire.
Desto Mayda sat in Paca's office. He was not a happy man. "I still can't believe we can come up with no reasonable plan to destroy that shuttle platform," he repeated for the third time.
"Desto, old friend, look what happened to one of our best operatives last night!" His voice was filled with exasperation. "If you can find a way to take out that platform without getting anyone unnecessarily killed, I'm willing to listen," Paca told him as Alex entered the office.
"Hello, Alex," Paca greeted her, noticing that the grim expression on her face matched his own mood this morning. "You've got something?"
"I was just upstairs with Dair in General Zakar's office," she said, referring to one of their people who worked undercover in the Imperial Army. "Have our ops picked up any news of Coruscant?"
"No. Why? What have you heard?"
"The Empire has blockaded Coruscant!"
"We'll never see help from the New Republic now!" Mayda bellowed.
Garos IV
Type: Terrestrial
Temperature: Temperate
Atmosphere: Type I (breathable)
Hydrosphere: Moderate
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Forests, mountains, valleys
Length of Day: 25 standard hours
Length of Year: 382 local days
Sapient Species: Humans
Starports: 2 standard class
Population: 20 million Garosians, 4 million Sundars
Planet Function: Agriculture, manufacturing
Government: Imperial governor
Tech Level: Space
Major Exports: Foodstuffs, metals, minerals
Major Imports: High technology
Garos IV is the fourth planet of six in the Garos system. It was settled by Humans more than 4,000 years ago. And until recently, it was a self-supporting planet with little contact outside the system.
The seat of government is located in Ariana on the western coast — known for the forboding Tahika Cliffs — on the larger of two continents. Ariana is an intellectual and business center, dominated by the prestigious University of Garos. It is also the home for Imperial Headquarters on the planet.
The Empire has generally left Garos IV alone since establishing a quiet presence on the planet over 14 years ago. Only in the last few years has the number of troops begun to grow. Their chief concern seems to be the mining of hibridium in a region south of the city of Ariana.
"Where's this information coming from?" Paca asked calmly.
"Zakar's aide Nilo heard it from someone in Imperial communications," she told them, knowing that a large percentage of the information they'd come across from that particular source was reliable. "And there's a Star Destroyer on the way to Garos," she added, repeating the news her father told her. "It looks like they plan to move that ore."
"What next?" Mayda exclaimed.
It seemed like they'd heard nothing but bad news since this Grand Admiral had surfaced. Even on Garos, the underground had been unable to make any inroads in recent days. When would it all end?
Mayda impatiently tapped the monitor on Paca's desk which showed a display of the mining center. "Alex, speaking of the ore" he said. "We've been discussing that shuttle platform."
Alex's eyebrows raised in question. Paca rubbed his hand across his forehead, unable to believe that Mayda was pursuing this topic again. Alex saw the look on his face and hid a grin.
Magir Paca
Type: Underground leader
DEXTERITY 4D
Blaster 6D+1, brawling parry 5D, dodge 5D+1, grenade 6D, heavy weapons 5D+2, melee 5D, melee parry 6D
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Alien species 4D+1, bureaucracy 6D, cultures 5D, languages 4D+2, planetary systems 5D+2, streetwise 7D, survival 8D, value 6D
MECHANICAL 3D+2
Astrogation 4D, beast riding 5D, repulsorlift operation 6D
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 6D, command 6D+1, con 6D+1, hide 7D, search 6D, sneak 7D
STRENGTH 3D+2
TECHNICAL 4D
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 5
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), datapad
Magir Paca is one of the original underground leaders known as COSGU (the Committee of Seven for Garosian Unification). Paca was an assistant to the Minister of Commerce when the Empire established a presence on Garos IV. Imperial Governor Tork Winger had been his close friend and mentor, guiding Paca's career in government service. This gave him access to all types of useful information. For 10 years he covertly passed information to the underground until the Imperials realized there was a leak in the system. Paca fell into their trap and only by a stroke of fate was he able to elude arrest. Alex Winger, then only 15 years old, was forever fiddling with computer files. She accidentally uncovered an Imperial file on suspected underground figures and the cases being built against them. She was able to warn Paca, and he disappeared hours before Imperial troops came to arrest him.
Paca has remained in hiding for more than four years, and now coordinates much of the underground's activities.
"You're one of the few people who've seen the complex up close," Mayda was saying. "Is there no way we can destroy it?"
"Desto, we've been over this a hundred times," Paca reminded him. "To the west and south, we're cut off by the Tahika Cliffs. And security has been quadrupled in the last few months —"
"What about using the Plex?" he looked at Alex, ignoring Paca.
"We'd practically have to be in the complex to get a good shot at it," Alex said.
"Too risky," Paca interrupted. "At that close range, what would be your chance of getting away before Imperial troops came down on top of you?"
Alex looked Mayda straight in the eye. She remembered what she and Chance had gone through just a few hours earlier. "Impossible." He pounded his fist on the desk, filled with frustration. "What about a supply run?" he asked, though that idea had already been rejected in other discussions.
Paca was shaking his head, no again. But suddenly, Alex's eyes lit up. "Wait a minute," she said, suddenly remembering another conversation she'd overheard in the general's office. "Inspection tour." Alex's eyes darted around the room as a plan began to formulate in her mind. "My father and the general are going on an inspection tour tomorrow," she told them.
"No, Alex," Paca said firmly. "If you went along, and if you managed to plant some charges, you'd be a prime suspect —"
"Let's hear her plan, Paca," Mayda said.
"This will work," she said, nodding her head. "Let me explain ..."
A little while later —
"... And we'll have a team waylay the pilot after we return from the inspection. The platform explodes, the pilot turns up missing — they'll have to suspect he's responsible for the sabotage."
Mayda nodded excitedly. "The explosion will have to be timed to go off before there's a change of guards. When that platform blows, there won't be anyone around to dispute your story," he observed. "No one would dare question the daughter of our Imperial Governor."
Paca nodded slowly. "It just might work," he said.
"It will," Mayda said confidently.
Paca looked from Mayda to Alex. There were a lot of details to work out. "Okay. Let's go over this one more time ..."
The Lambda-class shuttle swept in from the west, approaching the mining center complex over the Locura Ocean. The pilot turned southward and skirted the Tahika Cliffs after receiving clearance from Air Defense Command.
Sidebar: Adventure Idea
The characters are members of the resistance on Garos IV and must plant remote-activated explosives in the hillsides surrounding the Imperial mining center complex. The characters must negotiate the dangerous mountains and forests near the mining center, and must avoid numerous scout trooper patrols watching for resistance saboteurs.
Shortly after they'd departed the spaceport, Alex made herself at home in the cockpit, casually throwing her cape over the back of her seat. She engaged the pilot in conversation, enchanting him with her knowledge of the shuttle. She tried to talk him into letting her fly — after all, she did have nine years of experience and was considered one of the best pilots on Garos IV. But with General Zakar on board, the young lieutenant wasn't about to let any civilian, even the daughter of the Imperial Governor, fly his ship.
The shuttle flew inland over the Cliffs. For several seconds the only view was of treetops, then the landing platform came into view, carefully nestled between trees and mountains. The pilot eased his way through the towering trees and gently set the ship down, landing near a cargo vessel.
Major General Carner, the commanding officer of the mining center, approached the shuttle with four stormtroopers at his heels. They snapped to attention as the shuttle's hatch hissed open.
"Governor Winger, General Zakar, Miss Winger. Welcome to the mining center. We are ready for inspection," he said crisply.
"Thank you, General," Winger replied. "I see you're already busy transporting the ore," he said, pointing to the cargo shuttle.
"Yes, we're finally able to get our work done without interference from the underground," Carner told them.
"Excellent," General Zakar agreed.
"If you will please follow me."
The turbolift whisked them down to ground level in less than a minute. Not much time, Alex thought. Another stormtrooper popped to attention when the door slid open, then followed the group at a discreet distance down a path toward the main part of the complex. Major General Carner delighted in showing off his crack troops, his well-defended garrison, and of course, his shuttle platform.
Alex shivered as a cold breeze swept through the complex. She reached over and touched her father's arm. "I left my cape on the shuttle, Father. You continue with the tour, and I'll catch up with you in a few minutes."
"Of course, my dear."
"I'll start our inspection at the bunker, Miss Winger," Carner said, pointing to a building that was carved into the mountain on the far side of the complex.
"I'll meet you there," she said, returning to the turbolift. As the lift sped back up some 40 meters, Alex studied the access control panel.
Boy, she thought, this is going to be interesting.
The door slid open. Stormtroopers remained on guard. Alex ignored them and headed straight for the shuttle. The pilot nodded to her and smiled when he saw her grab the cape. "Cold out there?"
"Very cold," she told him as she threw the cape around her shoulders and walked back down the ramp.
All right, she thought. Here goes nothing.
The turbolift door had barely closed behind her when Alex reached for the medallion she wore. The sharp, pointed edges of the sunburst design made an excellent tool for prying things open. Wouldn't her father be surprised that she'd found such an ingenious use for his gift?
In less than four seconds, the access panel was open. Alex pulled some specially-rigged charges from her cape's inside pocket. She pressed the detonite compound into the recess around exposed control circuits, then pushed the timer into the opening. In the darkened niche, her fingers fumbled across tiny buttons. And too late, she realized that the timer was counting down, set to go off in four minutes!
Alex beat her fist against the wall. "Relax," she told herself. "It will all work out." She replaced the control panel a half second before the turbolift door opened back on the ground level.
But she wasn't prepared to see the stormtrooper blocking her way out of the lift. She gasped, and took a step backwards. But he, too, seemed to be caught off guard, then stepped aside to let her pass. That's when she came face to face with Cord Barzon.
No! This can't be happening!
Cord's eyes met hers. He smiled, almost embarrassed by his predicament. He shrugged his shoulders, lifting his hands to display the binders. Alex was struck by his calmness, his casual acceptance of the situation. She could sense that Cord understood the politics behind his imprisonment. And there was no fear in his heart, no anger toward his father.
"Cord, I —"
"Sorry, Miss. No talking with the prisoner," the stormtrooper told her.
Alex walked past Cord, holding his gaze.
Was there anything she could do to stop them? It wasn't just a matter of compromising herself — she'd be condemning dozens of others in the underground. Her knowledge alone, in the hands of the Empire, could wipe out the resistance movement in Ariana.
Could she hold them here a few minutes — three very long minutes? "Sergeant, where are you taking this man?"
"You'll have to take that up with General Zakar."
"But —"
Another stormtrooper prodded Cord into the lift. Alex started to say something else, but the door slid shut, rendering its own judgement. She stared at the door, unable to look away, knowing that for whatever ill-timed stroke of fate, Cord Barzon was about to die.
Alex turned slowly, and forced herself to move away from the shuttle platform. Her mind was filled with turmoil. Though she'd risked her own life time and again, she'd never been faced with a situation like this. To sacrifice one life so others could continue the fight — it was a decision she hoped she would never have to make again.
Major General Carner had just finished explaining the bunker's defensive system as Alex joined the inspection tour. "Ah, just in time, Miss Winger," he said. "Shall we go in?"
Alex smiled and nodded. She took one last look at the shuttle platform. She hoped that Carl Barzon would understand.
Dair Haslip
Type: Imperial Lieutenant
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 6D, brawling parry 4D+1, dodge 4D+2, grenade 5D, heavy weapons 4D+2, melee 4D, melee parry 5D
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Alien species 4D, bureaucracy 4D+1, cultures 4D+2, languages 4D+2, planetary systems 5D, streetwise 5D, survival 5D, value 4D+2
MECHANICAL 3D+2
Astrogation 4D, beast riding 4D, repulsorlift operation 5D
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 5D, command 5D+1, con 5D, hide 5D, search 5D, sneak 5D
STRENGTH 3D+2
TECHNICAL 3D
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 5
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), datapad
Dair Haslip is a native of Garos IV who joined the Imperial Army when he was 19 years old, the year the Empire first established a presence on his homeworld. He joined the army, not because of his devotion to the Empire, but because of his hatred of it and everything it stands for. He was already working for the underground, but thought he might better serve the cause of freedom and justice by working from the inside. After spending seven years away from Garos, he returned to serve as an administrative assistant to General Zakar, the supreme military commander for the planet. His position has allowed him access to all types of useful information which he passes on to his underground colleagues.
Suddenly, an explosion rocked the complex. Alex grabbed her father and instinctively fell to the ground, pulling him down with her. Within seconds, a dozen more explosions erupted outside the perimeter fence. Alex looked up cautiously and watched as the support leg of the landing platform groaned. In what seemed like slow motion, twisting, screeching metal finally gave way as the platform crashed to the ground.
General Zakar read the preliminary report on his datapad, then shook his head in disgust. He had stormed into Imperial Headquarters over an hour earlier, after that disaster at the mining center. He had underestimated the Garosian underground for the last time. As soon as this business with Dr. Barzon was concluded he would deal with them.
He clicked on the intercom. "Haslip, would you come into my office?"
"Right away, sir," the voice on the other end replied.
"You wanted to see me, General?" Dair Haslip said as he entered Zakar's office.
"I've prepared this report for Captain Emba on the Tempest," Zakar said as he pulled a card from the datapad. "Please take it down to communications and have them encrypt and transmit immediately, Lieutenant."
"Yes, General," he replied.
The intercom buzzed. "Yes?" Zakar said.
"Dr. Barzon is here, General," Lt. Polg called from the outer office.
"Bring him in," Zakar said, catching a glimpse of the frown on Haslip's face, but dismissing it as a sign of curiosity.
Dair recovered quickly, his straight-laced expression gave no hint that he and Carl Barzon were comrades in the underground. "Will there be anything else, General?" Dair asked.
"No, that will be all for now, Haslip."
Carl Barzon's hands were manacled, his face was pale and drawn. As Dair walked past him, they exchanged a brief glance, an imperceptible nod of the head. The door slid shut.
"Dr. Barzon. Please, come in. Sit down," he said.
Barzon didn't say a word. He eyed his adversary, taking a seat across from the general.
Zakar ignored the glare. "I'm sorry to bring you here in this manner," he apologized. "Guard, remove Dr. Barzon's binders."
"What is it that you want, General?" Barzon finally asked as he massaged his sore wrists.
"I understand your son was arrested earlier this week," Zakar said, noting the momentary flicker of pain in the other man's eyes. He paused, waiting to see a further response, but Barzon offered none. "Doctor, if you want my help in securing Cord's release, then you must cooperate with me."
"Cooperate?" Barzon questioned. "My son has done nothing wrong!"
Good, thought Zakar, a reaction — there was anger in Barzon's voice. "No, of course not," he agreed.
"Why have you taken Cord, General?"
Zakar chose not to answer that question. No, he couldn't let Barzon know that Cord was already dead. They'd have nothing to hold over him. He leaned forward in his chair. "You see, Doctor, your recent inactivity has not gone unnoticed. The Grand Admiral is—" he paused for more effect, "displeased that you've not made progress on your research with the ore."
Barzon turned defensive. "I have spent years working on this project! Research takes time, General."
Zakar studied the other man's face. "The Grand Admiral feels you may need more incentive to complete your research," Zakar told him.
Barzon sighed, nodding his head in understanding. "So you have kidnapped my son and will hold him hostage until I give you what you want."
"Kidnap is such a harsh word, Doctor."
"General, if I had the answers, I would gladly give them to your Grand Admiral to secure my son's release. But I do not. Breakthroughs do not come overnight. It may be years before the ore is refined to a point that the Empire might find it useful in the construction of cloaked weapons."
"Nevertheless, Doctor, perhaps this will give you a reason to work harder." Zakar noticed that Barzon's anger was subsiding, the emotion that replaced it was not hard to decipher. Barzon stared out the window, a blank expression on his face. Breaking a man's spirit was not something Zakar relished, but orders had to be followed. Was it not for the glory of the Empire?
He clicked on the intercom. "Polg, contact the spaceport. Inform Commander Skilis on the shuttle Kandarra that Dr. Barzon is on his way."
"Yes, sir," Polg acknowledged from the other room.
"Where are you taking me, General?" Barzon asked softly.
"To our research facility."
"But, I have classes to teach —"
"We shall inform your colleagues at the University."
So, this is it, Barzon thought. They would force him to work. Not that he hadn't expected this. But what choice did he have? At least they didn't suspect his involvement with the underground. "And my son?"
"Cord has been conscripted into the service of the Empire, Doctor," Zakar said. "When you have completed your research, Cord will be allowed to leave if he chooses to do so."
"I see," he said slowly, doubting that Cord would ever be allowed to leave. "I need my notes —"
"Everything you require will be delivered to you at the research facility." Zakar stood up, indicating their discussion had ended.
Barzon rose slowly from the chair.
"Guard," Zakar said, still watching Barzon very closely. "Please escort Dr. Barzon to the spaceport."
As they turned to leave, Zakar called to him. "Good luck with your research, Doctor."
It was risky for Dair Haslip to enter the underground tunnel system through the secret entrance in Imperial Headquarters, especially during the middle of the day. But Dair was determined to let his friends know what had happened to Carl Barzon.
When he entered the main ops center, Dair found Paca embracing a tearful Alex. "Don't worry, Alex," he was saying, "we'll get Carl down here right away."
"What's going on?" Dair asked.
Alex looked at Dair, her eyes filled with grief. "Cord Barzon died at the mining center. It's all my fault!"
"What are you talking about?"
"It's not your fault, Alex," Paca said reassuringly. "The timer wouldn't set for the three hour delay," he explained to Dair.
"You mean you were there when the thing went up! Are you all right?" Dair asked.
"I saw them take Cord to the landing platform. I should have stopped them!"
"Then you'd be under arrest, Alex. Or maybe dead." Paca said, silently thanking the Force that diversionary explosions outside the perimeter had added to the confusion at the mining center. "Stop blaming yourself. You couldn't have saved Cord!"
"Oh, no," Dair said quietly. "Dr. Barzon."
Alex felt Dair's sense change. Before he uttered another word, she knew what he was going to say.
"What about him?" Paca asked, suddenly realizing that Dair rarely came into the ops center at this time of day.
"They've arrested Carl Barzon."
Paca stood silently for a moment. He had talked to Carl only the evening before about this possibility. Barzon had chosen not to go into hiding, fearing for his son's life. And now his son was dead. And he didn't even know it.
"Have they moved him into the detention block?"
Dair looked at both of them. "No, he's on his way to the spaceport."
"They're taking him off-planet?"
"We've got to stop them!" Alex said.
Paca knew they had to try. "All right, you'd better get back to your desk, Dair." He called over to Mika Kaebra at the comm station. "Alert a team at the spaceport. If Carl's not under heavy guard we might have a chance to free him."
The tension was obvious. Everyone in the ops center watched Paca pace the room. He never paced the room.
Thoughts focused on Carl Barzon. He had been a valuable member of the underground for over 14 years. Could they save him from this unnecessary sacrifice? A sacrifice the father had been willing to make to keep his son alive — the son who died never truly knowing his father.
Alex sat down next to Mika, still feeling responsible for what was happening. If only she'd arrived at the ops center sooner! They could have warned Carl to disappear before he was arrested.
She hung her head, covering her face with her hands and trying to block the pain. She shook her head in disgust — she knew as well as anyone that there just wasn't enough time to organize a rescue attempt.
No, no time, she thought as she lifted her head to check the chrono. And suddenly, she wasn't in the ops center anymore —
She stared at the body crumpled on the floor, looked at the blaster in her hand, then turned to her companion.
"He may have called security," he told her. "We'd better get out of here."
He'd barely spoken the words when Alex sensed it was already too late to go out the way they'd come in. He felt it, too, even before they heard the footsteps at the far end of the corridor.
"This way," she said, grabbing his hand and leading him through a darkened lab. Across the room, she'd noticed another exit.
Within seconds they were outside, looking over the waist-high balcony wall, down the side of the mountain. The wind howled, whipping snow around their bodies. Neither one said a word as they pulled grappling hooks from their utility belts. They worked swiftly, knowing the stormtroopers weren't far behind.
One quick toss and the hooks were wedged tightly between crags in the rocky slope above them. Alex climbed atop the stone ledge, jumped backwards, and rappelled down the side of the mountain. Through the swirling snow she saw her companion do the same a few meters above her.
Then suddenly, she slid uncontrollably down the mountainside!
Seconds later the rope went taut, caught by some unseen force. "Alex!" he screamed above the shrieking wind. "Take my hand!" She sensed a powerful force, a feeling of great calm engulfed her. His hand reached out across the icy slope to meet hers. Fingertips touched — "Paca, I found the channel," Mika was saying, as Alex realized she was in the ops center. The tragedy continued to unfold.
Deadly quiet pervaded the room. Alex felt Paca's strong hands on her shoulders as he watched Mika's display at the intercept station. As he transcribed the transmissions between the shuttle and the spaceport, Mika opened up the comm channel so everyone gathered in the ops center could hear the ship that took their comrade away.
"Shuttle Kandarra, you are cleared to depart," the voice on the comlink said.
"Thank you, spaceport control," the Kandarra's pilot called back. Goodbye, old friend, Paca thought.
Alex stared at the display. That snowy mountainside pervaded her senses again. And then it all became clear in her mind. That's where they were taking Carl Barzon! That had to be the location of the secret Imperial research base!
Somehow, somewhere, she would find that mountain. She would find Carl Barzon. That mountain was part of her destiny. She could feel it!
Two figures on a snowy mountainside — two hands reaching across a vast whiteness — fingertips stretching, meeting — a powerful force drawing one hand into the other — hand in hand — the mountain would be conquered — and light would prevail —
The Force will be with you ... always.
Smuggler's Log
A Word from Platt Okeefe
Hey, kid! What are you doing snooping around my ship? You like the ion drives. Check out the ventral gun mount. Yep, that's a real quad laser cannon.
But you know, a ship isn't complete without some of the comforts and necessities we all take for granted. Sure, you need the ion drives, shields and sensors. But there's more to a ship than the large hardware.
Say, why don't I show you around, give you the two-cred tour and all that. Come on aboard. Ever worked aboard ship before? No? Well, I'll show you where the head is, where the bunks are, and how to work the autochef. Pay attention now. This is stuff every spacer needs to know.
Crew Quarters
Okay, the bunks are in here. You'll find we've got quite the posh living here. My crew quarters are a little better than the average cramped, functional areas, but it's still just a couple small rooms with a double bunk and a vertical locker. The bunks have a privacy screen and intercom. Some ships have added a reader or entertainment system terminal, but I haven't done it myself.
Most people like me have a real spacer's chest for our belongings. Something that'll take a beating and bounce back. Most career spacers are tramps. They move ship to ship a lot, and ship space is at a premium. So they try to keep their personal stuff to a minimum, safe from theft and harm, and easily transportable. That's why so many use what they call a spacer's chest.
The spacer's chest is sometimes cylindrical, sometimes square like a foot locker, about one meter long. It's crammed with the few personal possessions a spacer thinks are worth keeping — blaster, power packs, a few technical programs, spare uniform, pocket computer, some small tools, food concentrates and goodies, and maybe a few small mementos and oddities from their travels. They usually have real tough locks and are pretty durable. They cost 200 credits, but are worth it. You can find them in most starship equipment outfitters.
Emergency Equipment
Okay, the hotbox is over there in that carrying case next to the main entry ramp. It's filled with general emergency equipment — a vacsuit, fire suppressant cylinders, breath masks, medpacs. The vacsuit is easy to get on and off, but not really durable — it's a lot like normal clothing. It's fine for emergency utility repair, but for ordinary space work I use my regular suit. It takes a while to suit up in the regular suit, though, which is the main point of having a quick-on suit.
The fire suppressants are for electrical and chemical fires. They're very effective. Many fires can be put out by sealing the bulkheads and depressurizing the area — no oxygen, no fire. That's not always useful or safe though, so I carry the suppressors, too. If there is a fire, wear a breath mask to filter out the toxins. Actually, I wear the breath masks quite a bit when I'm working on engines or in atmospheres with questionable oxygen contents.
I usually carry six medpacs aboard. There's also something called a medkit that works just fine, better really, but it's bulky. You can carry a medpac around on your belt. I'd rather not have to use it at all, of course.
Medkit
Model: BioTech Medkit
Type: Enhanced first aid and care system
Skill: First aid, medicine
Cost: 1,200
Availability: 2
Game Notes: A medkit functions as a medpac that can be used up to 10 times. The diagnostics instruments in the kit can also be used to diagnose diseases afflicting a patient, to assess health, and for other basic medical uses on an Easy first aid roll. The kit also allows a character with the Medicine skill to perform minor field surgery.
The larger medkit is in that bulkhead storage compartment over there. The standard medpac is just fine for repairing basic damage and is portable, like I said, but has limited supplies. The medkit is more reusable. It has an extended supply of medicines, nutrients and synth-flesh. Medkits can be used as medpacs for first aid, and have some medical diagnostics instruments to give more detailed assessments of disease, injury treatment and general health questions. It also has more value to those with surgical skills. I'm no doctor and I don't have any idea how to deal with the more complicated medical problems you can run into out there, and the medkit helps with that. They're much less portable than medpacs since they're heftier and bulkier.
I do emergency drills every now and then. You've got to know where the hotbox, medkit, and escape pods are, and how to use them. If you can't do that, you're a liability.
Escape Pods
Imperial starship regulations require every ship to have enough escape pods for all crew and passengers aboard (at least that's the theory). Not every ship follows these regulations, though. Some credit-short captains sell their escape pods as spares and don't replace them, banking the difference. I've never been quite that desperate. I'd rather be broke and alive than rich and dead.
The escape pod has a sensor array and distress beacon transmitter, one week's supplies for the intended passengers, and an assortment of survival gear in bulkhead storage bins. I think that General Cracken guy wrote some interesting information about escape pods in his Rebel Field Guide. Try looking on datapage 46.
I've got two escape pods in this ship, and each can accommodate about two Human-sized beings. The bulkhead storage space holds a week's worth of supplies, two sporting blasters, two breath masks, two comlinks and a glow rod. I've rigged my emergency beacon so it can be shut off from within the pod, just in case I really don't want to be picked up by an Imperial rescue party.
Emergency Repair Kit
Ships are often sold with an emergency repair kit and it's checked and updated automatically when you restock your supplies (at least at the larger starports). The kit has tools and material to patch up two minor instances of hull breach under most circumstances. The kit has a simple set of standard tools — hydrospanners, a sonic screwdriver, foam-jet and 10 kilos of ceramic patch material — in concentrated blocks — for hull patching and bulkhead sealing. The ceramic patch kit has different mixes for different uses. It's based on a silicon culture that grows tremendously when combined with other chemicals in mixing. The final product is a pasty material that can patch most minor hull breaches and hardens like rock. Although it'll close up small holes quickly, if my ship gets patched with this stuff I'll make for port real fast. The patch isn't as durable as the real hull and fails under stress, especially in combat. Hard landings will smash it loose, too. Rock-hard just isn't hard enough.
Starship Supplies
Ship's stores are carried in bays above and below deck. It's standard grub, meaning you can eat if you have to, but the autochef's no gourmet droid. Air and water are standard, but we've been having leaks, so keep an ear cocked for hisses and drips and don't breath any more than you have to.
Most freighters carry two or three months usable supply of food, water, and air. We don't actually carry all that in real material. Most of the original stores are reprocessed, like air and water. Concentrated food stores are kept condensed for on-the-spot processing through the autochef.
Water
Water is the only supply kept in large volume, and even then we don't really carry two months of water. All water is retained, filtered, purified and reconsumed. Even water lost to evaporation is scrubbed out of the air, condensed and reprocessed. We really only carry a week's worth of water, but we can keep reprocessing almost four months, if we had to.
Water becomes tasteless after several treatments though — when it gets that way, you'll want to drink juice or add flavors to make it decent. I have the water on this ship completely replaced most times I make port, along with the filters.
The Empire and many corporations cut costs in water and air. Imperial navy vessels usually take on water about once a year and are infamous for water's bland taste.
Air
Air is valuable in space. Most captains carry a large supply of air to safeguard against accidents — especially since the atmospheric reprocessors are less efficient than the water reprocessors. Air reprocessing scrubs out the atmospheric dust and grit and runs it through algae cylinders to reoxygenate the carbon dioxide waste. This is pretty efficient compared to using all fresh supplies, but the algae cylinders tend to clog and need regular maintenance, the filters need to be replaced regularly and simple entropy and gradual atmosphere bleeding reduce the supply.
After a while, when the filters start getting dirty, the air gets stuffy and a little ... ripe. We can compensate by opening a fresh tank, but that only works so long, or, if it's a real emergency, by converting the oxygen in the water. That's a last ditch emergency grab, though, because you're trading air now for water later. I'd say most ships generally carry about two week's fresh air supply, which is enough even for long jumps.
Food
Food stores are highly concentrated and come in prepackaged containers and in simple organic chemical stores. Potted meat, VegHash, and assorted other concentrated edibles make up most of the food stores, with basic organic chemicals making up the other half.
The organichems are used by the autochef to supplement diet, add flavor and increase nutrition. Organichems need to be processed before they're usable. The concentrated foods are usually prepared by an autochef, but could be prepared by hand, if you had to, but the organichems need to be processed by machine. Most ships carry about one month's worth of edible concentrated food.
The center of the galley is the autochef, a simple immobile droid that processes, cooks, chills, bakes, reconstitutes and otherwise prepares meals. A ship's autochef is more complex and compact than an ordinary autochef you might find in one's home. A galley autochef has highly adaptable programming that allows it to tailor meals to various species' dietary needs. Most simple substances can be produced using an autochef processing organichems, although they're often inhibited from producing intoxicants or stimulants without approval of a senior officer. A drunk crew isn't real helpful, so I keep that function under my thumb.
Many free-traders keep separate stores of food and drink, usually the luxury stuff they can only get in port. Exquisite food doesn't keep too well, but the drink will last as long as you keep it. Remember, that autochef won't make intoxicant liquids like Gruvian Tovash, and the autochef's fizzyglug is pretty lame. A word to the discriminating connoisseur — if you like eating in the lap of luxury, bring your own chef.
Cargo Bay
Light freighters are often customized and have different internal layouts, numbers of cargo bays, mass/volume ratios and support facilities. Generally the cargo bay is a large holding section of deck that can be sealed off from the rest of the ship. Cargo is shipped in containers and is webbed, bolted, tied and otherwise fastened into the hold.
For the most part binary load lifter droids load and unload cargo from the bay. Most light freighters don't carry the bulky droids — you can rent them in most major ports, and some ports even provide a binary load lifter as part of service fee you pay when you land.
Some cargo is also loaded by hand, especially in the more remote ports. Aside from driving the cargo skiff right up to your cargo hatch, some starports provide repulsor sleds—small floating cargo pallets. The sleds lower to the ground, allowing cargo to be slid on or off it. While the sleds float on repulsor power, they must still be pushed using sheer backbone.
We also use measuring scanners to figure out what cargoes will fit in which cargo bays. A hand-held measuring scanner calculates load, mass and volume ratios. These sensors can be programmed to take a specific cargo bay's dimensions into account. They can also determine the dimensions and density of nearly any other object or set of objects within range. However, measuring scanners cannot be used to identify the contents of sealed containers other than by analyzing the size, weight and density. Also, some specialized security cargo containers alter or mask the sensor's readings.
Measuring Scanner
Model: Fabritech A-11 Cargo Scanner
Type: Hand-held measuring scanner
Skill: Sensors
Cost: 150 credits
Availability: 1
Game Notes: Using the scanner to calculate the size of cargo and cargo bays is a Very Easy sensors task, while the difficulty for using it for other purposes depends on the size, density, and speed of the object being measured, usually no more than a Moderate task. The scanner has a range of 10 meters.
Entertainment Console
Last stop — the entertainment console. Space can be an incredibly boring place for some people. You can keep busy maintaining the ship, but sometimes there's absolutely nothing to do — especially during long hyperspace trips. Some people fill the dead time reading, brushing up on technical manuals, learning new skills or hobbies and playing games.
I've never seen a ship without an entertainment console of some sort. Some are simple game machines wired into the ship, while others consist of a bulkhead storage bin with a few decks of sabacc cards. The more complete entertainment consoles have holochess, sabacc, Liars Cut, phizbin, cigam, and other assorted other games loaded and ready to play. Some even have holovid screens and the latest holos.
We've got the full load of game programs and equipment on this ship. Ever play sabacc? We got a nice friendly game aboard. Join in sometime.
This issue's Smuggler's Log was created by Tim O'Brien and illustrated by Kathy Burdette.
Enemies for Life
by Stephen Luminati Illustrations by Chris Gossett
The Gorgon lay in wait, hiding in the shadow of Tinn VI-B. The moon's orbit carried it just outside the gas giant's magnetic field, making it the perfect surveillance position. They had evaded him in their last encounter...it was only his genius in astrogation that allowed him to predict their emergence point from hyperspace. They were running like scared animals, looking only to their rear for signs of pursuit. They wouldn't see the gas giant until they were ensnared in its devastating field.
He superimposed the Gorgon's crystal gravfield trap analysis onto his holographic heads-up display and waited. Twenty seconds later, the display indicated a sharp gravometric emission halfway into Tinn VI's magnetic field. Magnifying the spectrum transceivers, he watched the hologram shift to show a carbon-scored freighter spiral out of hyperspace. The vessel was clearly out of control. Theoretically, they might not regain guidance in time to avoid the gas giant. But he knew better. The pilot was clever, if not overflowing with bravado.
The freighter wobbled, righted itself, then lost all indications of power emissions. He smiled — the Tinn VI gas giant had claimed another victim. Their ship's magnetic bottle had failed, leaving them two options: shut main power down or explode like a small nova. Wisely, they had chosen the former. He watched the crippled vessel abruptly engage emergency power, slowly rotate into position, then limp toward the populated Echnos moon.
He could swoop in for the kill now. But the contract hadn't been officially declared yet, and he wanted the money more than he wanted the revenge. It was only through non-official channels that he learned of his prey's extraordinary value. Yes. Wait eight hours. Let them be entranced by the wealth and pleasures of the city dome. Then let panic seize their throats and paralyze their minds before he struck. In eight hours.
And then the hunt would begin.
Introduction
Enemies for Life is a short adventure for three to six Star Wars characters, all of whom should have at least two skills above 5D. The party should have the normal prerequisites of gun-bearing characters, but heroes with diplomatic and technical skills can be a valued asset to the party. Force-sensitive and Jedi characters are always a helpful addition to a mission, but are not required for the successful completion of this scenario. The characters should have their own ship, which may be of a wide variety of classifications. Since Echnos is an overpopulated, high-technology city dome, gamemasters may wish to play electronic or "techno" music during the adventure to better create the mood of Echnos.
Gamemasters may insert elements from their own campaigns into Enemies for Life. The BlastBoast 2000 contest — a repulsorlift combat derby in which characters may participate — is the perfect opportunity to insert a recurring rival gamemaster character into the scenario. As the characters strive to win prize money, an arch-nemesis could stand between the heroes and their much-needed award money. If in a previous scenario the characters' ship was damaged or had suffered a hyperspace mishap, this scenario can be easily linked to the last gaming session's conclusion.
The scenario begins with a forced landing at the Echnos City dome. Echnos is located on a moon that circles the sixth planet in the Tinn system. A tremendously large gas giant, Tinn VI, emanates a particularly strong negative magnetic field. This field strips unprotected ships of their magnetic bottle shielding, causing their power-generating fusion reactors to become unstable. Once affected, a ship dares not operate its main power for fear of losing hydrogen containment.
Echnos City has grown up in the shadow of the gas giant. Although prolonged exposure to the moon's environment is toxic, the massive city offers a complete oxygen-nitrogen life support system. It's also the only place in the system the characters can find a shielding compound known as Polydex-9. They must find this compound and apply it to their magnetic bottle before they can leave Echnos.
Episode One: Forced Landing
Read aloud:
The view outside the cockpit is a steady blur of brilliant colors as your starship blazes through the dazzling realm of hyperspace. With casual interest, the pilot notices that one of the power indicators begins to fluctuate. According to the engineering control computer, a loss of efficiency to the magnetic bottle is causing a power drop off to the hyperdrive.
This sort of thing has happened before. You give the indicator a tap with your finger. The reading obediently returns to normal, then plummets to absolute zero as a whining scream reaches from the rear of the ship. Alarms echo through the hallways, and thousands of red lights flash in protest.
The characters' ship has passed near the Tinn system — the gas giant of Tinn VI has a notoriously strong magnetic field which can adversely affect certain starship systems. This magnetic field's projection into hyperspace has polarized the ship's magnetic bottle, rendering it ineffective.
As most good star-faring beings know (or at least those making an Easy space transports repair roll), a starship's power is generated by a high-speed hydrogen fusion generator. The only thing keeping this fusion reaction under control is the magnetic bottle. Without the bottle, all the fuel components would rapidly react. The ensuing explosion would incinerate the ship and anything in proximity to it.
Echnos (Tinn VI-D)
Type: Satellite
Temperature: Cool
Atmosphere: Type III (breath mask required)
Hydrosphere: Dry
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Barren
Length of Day: 41 hours
Length of Year: 120 local days
Sentient Species: Humans, Sullustans, Ithorians, Rodians
Starport: Imperial class
Population: 8.6 million
Planet Function: High-tech manufacturing, trade
Government: Anarchy
Tech Level: Space
Major Imports: Foodstuffs, metals
Major Exports: Mid and high technology
Echnos is one of six moons in orbit around the Tinn VI gas giant. Its surface is composed of barren stretches of land broken occasionally by rock outcroppings. The hydrosphere is buried from 10 to 200 meters under the surface, and contains frozen water and ammonia. The environment is hostile to most carbon-based life forms, which require breath masks to journey out onto the moon's surface. The thin atmosphere is bereft of oxygen, primarily containing nitrogen and several noble gases. Echnos' orbit pulls it close to the gas giant and the huge planet often dominates the night sky. Half of Echnos' year is spent in the grip of Tinn VI's magnetic field, which mandated the construction of the sea-blue transparisteel dome that surrounds the city. This dome protects the life and technology from the dangerous effects of Tinn VI's powerful magnetic field.
The Echnos moon was mistakenly colonized during the Old Republic when explorers were ensnared by Tinn VI's massive magnetic field. Their hyperdrive motivators burned out, and their only recourse was to attempt to tame the most hospitable of worlds — Tinn VI-D. As galactic expansion continued, several hyperspace routes came near the Tinn system. Many travelers were forcibly pulled into the system by the gas giant's powerful magnetic field, and found the fledgling settlement able to effect their needed repairs.
In the first 15 years of the Echnos colony's existence, over 10,000 visits were recorded. As word of Echnos spread, it became a standard refueling and trading port along several cargo runs to the Outer Rim Territories. Technology was the most common commodity exchanged, as the barren moon had little natural resources to offer. Industries began to develop, most of which specialized on customizations needed by scout ships and trading vessels headed to the Outer Rim. Returning vessels sold natural resources and commodities discovered during their explorations.
Echnos' growth slowed when the last of the Outer Rim Territories systems along Echnos' outward vector were explored. The exploration effort was focusing further from the Tinn system, where more unexplored star systems were awaiting discovery. However, Echnos had already built up a sizable industrialized economy, and was widely recognized as an important, if not somewhat out-of-the-way, world for the research and development of technological goods.
The characters have four rounds before the main generator overloads and incinerates the ship. Gamemasters should avoid this dire and premature end to the scenario. Make certain the characters know that this failure is a potentially disastrous fault, and not an annoying quirk like a grinding landing gear strut. During the crisis, characters making an Easy space transports repair roll realize that the hyperdrive will fail in 12 seconds due to main power drop-off, and that it would be advisable to bring the ship into realspace before that time. Another Easy space transports repair roll disengages the main generator and puts the hydrogen fuel into a safe cold storage position.
A Moderate space transports repair roll diagnoses the problem: the magnetic bottle shielding has been polarized, forcing the generator into an overload. Power loss and radiation leaks are only minor symptoms of the danger.
A Moderate space transports roll brings the ship out of hyperspace smoothly. If the pilot fails this roll, the ship exits from hyperspace in an uncontrolled manner, spinning madly on one axis, yawing to the port or starboard. The ship takes 2D of hull stress damage — this damage occurs every round until a successful Moderate space transports roll is made.
Without main power, the characters have to rely on emergency backup batteries to fulfill their power needs. These batteries, depending on the ship's configuration, can sustain life support for at least 25 hours. Other ship systems demand more energy. Maneuvering thrusters and repulsor engines can operate at 50 percent capability for about one hour. Weapon and shield systems have enough energy for a few scant seconds of offensive and defensive capability. Ion drives, since they depend on the magnetic bottle-fed hydrogen for fuel components, are inoperative.
Characters making a Difficult space transports repair roll realize that in order to re-shield the magnetic bottle, they need a compound called Polydex-9 — usually found at Imperial class starports or starship construction facilities. The characters need to find some Polydex-9 or be stranded in the Tinn system.
Welcome to Tinn System
Sensors can help characters collect information about the Tinn system. The system has seven planets in total, all of which orbit around twin stars. The two stars are both in the orange stage of their life cycle. Tinn VI, the planet the heroes are closest to, is a large gas giant composed mostly of hydrogen, nitrogen, and ammonium. It is huge as gas giants go, and emanates a powerful negative magnetic field. Six moons surround Tinn VI, all of which pass through the gas giant's magnetic field at some point in their orbits. None of the satellites are innately capable of supporting life, although one (the gas giant's fourth moon, Tinn VI-D) emanates massive indications of power production.
A closer inspection and an Easy sensors roll reveals that there is a tightly packed blister of life on the far side of the barren moon. A quick check of astrogation computers shows that a city named Echnos exists on the moon's surface. The ship can limp its way to the satellite on its maneuvering jets and landing repulsor power. An orbital analysis reveals that this moon is currently within the magnetic fields of the gas giant, and will continue to be so for another standard week.
Upon entering Echnos space, the communications light flashes. Echnos starport control hails the characters, directing them to the entry ports on the top of the domed city ahead. Characters notice that Echnos control is surprisingly lax. No inquiries are made as to departure point or current cargo. If asked whether a log report or ship identification verification is necessary, Echnos control responds with something akin to "Uh ... sure ... whatever makes you happy."
Episode Two: Echnos City
The Echnos City dome is a massive hemisphere encircling an area 20 kilometers in radius and 2,000 stories high. Access to the city dome is through one of eight airlock entry ports located at the top of the dome. These airlocks are of various sizes, the largest of which can accommodate ships of up to 200 meters in length.
The landing facilities consist of circular pads mounted in clusters of four on pillars on the top of the tallest Echnos buildings. Each quarter of a platform holds one ship. The landing pads are open on all sides, and share a common cluster of four turbolifts. The heroes land at 0900 hours local time.
Read aloud:
You've landed your ship in one of the round landing pads on Echnos. The blue transparisteel dome stretches far overhead, where some airspeeders and small ships zip around while larger vessels enter and exit through the airlock entry ports at the top of the dome. Your quarter of this pillar looks out toward one of Echnos' polar caps, where the gas giant Tinn VI dominates the night sky. In the center of this landing pad cluster is the central support for your docking pillar, with a turbolift at the center. Looking downward over the edge of your landing pad, you see at least 50 levels of docks cloaked in white mist. The smells and sounds of Echnos City float up from the unseen bottom.
Next to the turbolift, an automated docking services computer attends to the ship's mundane needs. Automated refueling, consumables replenishment, and minor damage control are carried out by automatons controlled by this station. Upon the insertion of the appropriate number of credits, or by drawing on an established Echnos City account, the characters may order these services.
The characters may try to ascertain their position and determine the cause of their unfortunate circumstances. An Easy planetary systems roll allows a character to recall that Echnos is a technologically oriented city dome. Many species come to Echnos for all sorts of technological devices — a good number of which are black-market. Characters making a Moderate planetary systems roll know that Tinn VI produces a strong magnetic field, through which the Echnos moon often passes. Another such roll reveals that Polydex-9, a material used in magnetic bottle shielding, is often in high demand on Echnos (as every ship in the system requires it). They also realize they need Polydex-9 to re-shield their magnetic bottle if they're ever going to leave Echnos without blowing up their ship's power generator.
A character who can successfully make an Easy survival roll knows that the radiation that dumps down on Echnos from Tinn VI makes life outside shielded areas extremely hazardous. Most carbon-based life-forms could not survive without protection for more than 20 minutes.
Characters making a Moderate space transports repair roll know that the strong negative magnetic field that Tinn VI produces depolarizes many magnetic devices. Ion engines quickly become detuned. More importantly, the field rapidly degrades a starship's magnetic bottle. Raised shields often prevent this field from affecting ship systems. As a ship in hyperspace can not operate with combat shields, it must carefully plot a course around Tinn VI's magnetic field, which also projects a dangerous shadow into hyperspace.
Going to Town
When the group descends toward the Echnos streets, read aloud:
Echnos' streets are little more than narrow corridors surrounded on all sides by metal gratings and masses of hopelessly tangled pipes. Light wisps of steam cling to the walls and bottom of the passageway. Some of the floor sections are steel plating, while others are grating, allowing you to see down to the lower levels of the city. Above, you can see the boots and feet of a thousand other beings, all on the next-higher street level. Turbolifts are scattered along the main thoroughfares, although ladders, ramps and stairwells are more common. Every now and then, you catch a glimpse of the blue Echnos dome surrounding the condensed city.
The area underneath the transparisteel dome is almost completely filled by metallic constructions. Level 75 is the last open air level — all floors beneath it span the entire protective area of the dome.
Echnos is filled with every kind of seedy establishment. Most are tightly packed into small spaces, forcing claustrophobic characters to feel ill-at-ease.
Hotels: Most of the accommodations in the city are very constricted — Echnos is almost bursting at the seams and has a great need for more floor space. The rooms are very cold and artificial, with dull metallic plating providing the majority of a guest room's decor. Fitting two people into a "luxury suite" is a squeeze. Most rooms do not have windows. Those that have windows which offer a scenic view grace the guest with a vista of the opposite side of the street, no more than five meters away. Some lower-rent areas do not even have paneling — the walls consist of the life-support piping and conduits that keep Echnos City alive. Rates are relatively expensive, ranging from 50 credits for a basic bed-in-a-closet to 250 credits for a luxury flat.
Casinos: Echnos' entertainment establishments are also pressed for room, and often share space with a cantina. The average casino operators' gambling skill is 4D, but some of the fancier places have dealers with gambling as high as 6D. Popular games include sabacc and Tertan's Wheel. Chance-based games are also available, and require the player to beat a prescribed difficulty. Even/odd tables require a Moderate gambling skill to win, while 2:1 paying tables require a Difficult gambling roll to win. A given table's betting range is between one and 1,000 credits.
Retailers: A plethora of stores exists, most selling technological wares at discount prices. Weapons are extremely easy to find, though disreputable shops offer damaged or non-functional equipment. Echnos' economy is strongly biased toward technological and manufactured goods. Such items are discounted 10 to 40 percent from their standard prices. By contrast, raw materials, foodstuffs, luxury items, and chemical compounds are extremely expensive. The few stores that stock Polydex-9 charge between 4,000 and 6,000 credits per canister. Light freighters — such as the vessel the characters are flying — require two canisters to completely re-shield the magnetic bottle. Most shops are out of the highly prized Polydex-9, but offer to place an order aside when next week's shuttle arrives.
While Echnos has a higher proportion of life-forms using bionics and mechanical augmentations than is found in the rest of the galaxy, it is important for the gamemaster to remember that such cybernetic technology is frowned upon by the galaxy's population. Cyborgs and the like are looked upon with distrust, and there is a large amount of opposition toward technologies that replace living tissue.
Credit Opportunities
Data terminals are extremely common in Echnos. From them, the characters can access city maps, docking registries, shop advertisements and listings, and city publications. An Easy Perception roll allows characters to spot a "mercenary's convention" where hundreds of lucrative contracts are being offered.
An Easy computer programming/repair roll allows the characters to find a good amount of discussion from beings interested in this gathering. It is likely that many spacers will be an attendance. Characters making an Easy streetwise roll realize that the subjects of "corporate reparations" and "personnel inquiries" are probably bounty targets.
Flashing advertisement videos also attract the characters' attention. They advertise such places as pleasure cantinas, cruise yachts, and other leisure-time activities. An advertisement for something called the BlastBoast 2000 also catches the eyes of money-hungry characters as a quick way to win credits. Registration starts at 1200. The competition officially begins at 1800 hours.
Echnos City Public Access System
Public Announcement: 100 out of 212 in sub-area "General Contracts"
Subject: Mercenary Contracts
Posted By: Anonymous
Over 120 lucrative contracts to be offered in Meeting Arena 4, Level 89 at 1600 hours today by a large organization. Contracts to include:
- Cargo runs
- Corporate reparations
- Technology acquisitions
- Scouting explorations
- Personnel inquiries
Over 1,300,000 credits in contract moneys available. References not required.
Sorry, further information not available until official announcement at 1600.
Sidebar: The BlastBoast 2000 — The Ultimate Sportsbeing's Challenge!
Echnos City's weekly demonstration of demolition destruction was designed for you!
Pick your ship!
For a modest registration fee, you get to choose from one of our three rampaging repulsorlift machines!
- Stinger Velocity 200: A fast and deadly machine with enough missiles to go around.
- Maeltorp Intimidator: Who needs guns when you have 0.5 meter thick armor and a duranium drill?
- Dominator AV: A great all-arounder with a turret laser to boot.
Pick your strategy!
The BlastBoast 2000 comes to violent life in Echnos' main exhibition dome, almost two kilometers across! The terrain is so varied, you can do just about anything!
- "Tritium Tree" Forest, not a good spot for a picnic!
- "The Maze," a twisted labyrinth of duranium death!
- Lift platforms for superior firing positions!
Or pick your winner!
If you don't have what it takes to play with the big bruisers, then you can bet on them. Our computers keep up-to-the-microsecond odds on all your favorite competitors. Last week's winner won 45,000 credits! What are you waiting for?
The BlastBoast 2000: An Echnos Tradition
BlastBoast 2000 makes no warranties, either explicit or implied, on the quality or condition of its rented vehicles. The BlastBoast 2000 is for recreational purposes only and is an exhibition, not a competition. No independent wagering, please. The Mandellian Corporation and its subsidiaries can not be held responsible for any injuries sustained during the BlastBoast 2000. Sorry, medical insurance is not available to participants. Always wear your flight helmet.
Episode Three: A Wretched Hive
If the characters opt to attend the mercenary's convention, they can head to the proper meeting room at 1600 hours. Read aloud:
You enter an expansive yet stout meeting room in one of the many levels of Echnos City. Several rectangular tables of different sizes stretch across the room, dividing the room lengthwise into uneven intervals. At the far side of the conference area are two wall-sized vidscreens and a speaker's podium. The room is already packed with entrepreneurs of every kind: from the reckless joy-riders to the professionally lethal.
The lights dim as you enter, and you squeeze your way over to a corner in the back. Most of the attendees are bipeds, but you notice more exotic species in addition to the presence of sinister-looking droids. Most of the organics are dressed in either flight suits or combat armor — half of the latter are wearing helmets that conceal their facial features. The overhead lights dim to their lowest level as soft lights inside each of the tables come to life, garnishing the room with an eerie glow. An attention signal chimes three times, and the audience quiets.
An Imperial officer walks onto the podium from a back entrance and begin to address the crowd. The Empire is offering a host of contracts for lost or stolen cargoes, information on the Rebellion, and the capture or extermination of specific targets. He details the lower-bounty contracts first, and steadily moves on to more profitable opportunities. The gamemaster is encouraged to have the bounties presented and explained by a recurring gamemaster character Imperial officer who has plagued the heroes in previous scenarios. If one is not available, use Lieutenant Gatharard.
Toward the end of the specified program, the characters encounter a nasty surprise. Their ship and their faces appear on the vidscreens, with an appropriately high credit reward. The exact bounty is up to the gamemaster to determine, as it should be based on how much grief the heroes have caused the Empire in past scenarios. A minimum value of 10,000 credits is recommended.
Read aloud:
"And finally, this ship and its crew are wanted for multiple offenses of treason and armed rebellion. The crew of this craft are notably dangerous and cunning, and may be heading for this sector."
Your faces flash on the vidscreens. A ripple of excitement runs through the packed room.
Lieutenant Vincent Gatharard
Type: Imperial Officer
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 5D, dodge 5D
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Bureaucracy 4D
MECHANICAL 3D
Repulsorlift operation 4D, capital ship piloting 5D, capital ship gunnery 4D
PERCEPTION 4D
Command 5D, investigation 4D+2, search 5D
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 3D+2
TECHNICAL 2D
Force Points: 2
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), comlink, Imperial uniform
Born on Corsucant and raised in a military academy, it was only natural that Vincent Gatharard joined the officer's corps in the Imperial Navy. He takes a great pleasure in lording his authority over others, and is anxious to return back to the Imperial Academy as an instructor. His self-proclaimed superiority is his most distinctive feature.
To sneak out of the crowded meeting room without being noticed, each character must make a Heroic sneak roll. If a character succeeds in making only a Difficult sneak roll, then that character is not identified, but their sudden departure is noticed.
Within three rounds of the announcement — if the characters aren't already heading for the exits — a bounty hunter sitting at an adjacent table turns to the characters to whisper, "I'd like to get my hands on them." Allow the characters the chance to talk their way out of the situation. If any mercenary gets a direct look at the characters, they immediately make their best effort to collect the recently offered bounty.
If a firefight erupts in the conference room, the gamemaster should keep in mind the following factors. Since the collection of bounty hunters and mercenaries are not trained to fight together, they cannot coordinate their attacks and do not gain any collaboration bonuses. Although the room has over 60 enemies, only 10 are close enough for a clear shot — especially since the whole room is likely to get to its feet at the first cry of "It's them! Blast 'em!" The characters' table is about 10 meters from the door, but movement rates are halved (since chairs, tables, and bounty hunters restrict movement) during combat. Due to the close quarters, it may not be possible to draw and aim blaster weapons, forcing players and mercenaries alike to resort to using their brawling skill.
Echnos Bounty Hunter
DEXTERITY 4D
Blaster 5D, dodge 4D+1
KNOWLEDGE 2D
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 3D
STRENGTH 3D+2
Brawling 5D+1
TECHNICAL 2D
When the party bursts out of the conference area (accompanied by a torrential rain of blaster fire), they have two rounds of free action before the pursuit begins. The characters could return to their ship, but without the Polydex-9, it is effectively grounded. They will need to continue their quest for the compound while avoiding a relentless pursuit. Or they may head for the crowds and action at the BlastBoast 2000 in an attempt to lose their hunters.
Episode Four: The BlastBoast 2000
The characters may already be on their way to the BlastBoast 2000 — unaware of the bounties on their heads — or may run for the contest as a means of escaping the droves of bounty hunters suddenly searching Echnos for them.
The BlastBoast 2000 is held in the Echnos Exhibition Dome, located in the very bottom of the city. The 10 registration desk attendants (all in ridiculously cute uniforms) answer all questions related to the brutal sport with the cheerfulness of a Galaxy Tours cruise ship activities director. Behind them is an electronic status board of all the competitors, their numbers, repulsorlift designation, and operational condition. When the characters ask to register, the attendant cheerfully asks them to certify their agreement to the BlastBoast regulations. They are handed a thick datapad with an embedded video module. When the datapad is activated, the characters are treated to a two minute demonstration video. The vid is narrated by an annoyingly cheerful voice.
Read aloud (use a late night vid announcer's voice when appropriate):
A tacky BlastBoast 2000 logo appears in the small vid display, and is accompanied by a fanfare of tinny instruments. The assault of music gives way to the voice of an announcer who had too much fizzyglug the morning the recording was made.
"Welcome to the BlastBoast 2000! The BlastBoast is a well-established tradition at Echnos City, and has become one of the top 10 competitions of its kind in this sector! Your objective is simple: keep your repulsorlift vehicle running by eliminating as much of the competition as possible!"
The current image fades and is replaced by an overhead view of what you presume to be the competition grounds.
"The BlastBoast 2000's arena is constantly changing, and is one of the most challenging terrains since the game of Z-Slam. One quadrant hosts a forest of metal pillars, each one adorned with a hundred tritium projections! Avoid them at all cost! The opposite quadrant holds our Death Maze with more than 2.3 kilometers of sharp corners — and an opponent could be hiding behind every one! There are eight lift platforms scattered about the arena. Each one will give you a starship eye's view of the competition. Just remember ... if you can see them, they can see you!"
The display zooms in to what appears to be an elevation pad painted with green stripes.
"If your vehicle should be disabled during the competition, make your way to one of these exit points. You'll be dropped out of the competition, but also out of everyone else's gun sights!"
The video screen blinks to show three wire frame models of repulsorlifts, all of them rotating to show the various side views.
"Ask our hospitality representative about our repulsorlift rentals. We guarantee there's one just for you!"
Sidebar: Stinger
Craft: Stinger Velocity 200
Type: Modified Velocity speeder
Scale: Speeder
Length: 1.9 meters
Skill: Repulsorlift operation: landspeeder
Crew: 1
Passengers: 0
Cargo Capacity: 10 kilograms
Cover: 1/2
Altitude Range: Ground level — 4 meters
Maneuverability: 3D
Move: 140; 400 kmh
Body Strength: 2D
Weapons:
Minlet Concussion Missiles (10)
Fire Arc: Forward
Skill: Missile weapons
Fire Control: 1D
Range: 40/100/250
Damage: 4D+1
Sidebar: Dominator
Craft: Dominator AV
Type: Modified Dominator landspeeder
Scale: Speeder
Length: 2.4 meters
Skill: Repulsorlift operation: landspeeder
Crew: 1, gunners: 1
Passengers: 0
Cargo Capacity: 15 kilograms
Cover: 3/4
Altitude Range: Ground level — 3 meters
Maneuverability: 1D+2
Move: 105; 300 kmh
Body Strength: 3D
Weapons:
BlasTech Protector Laser
Fire Arc: Turret
Crew: 1
Skill: Vehicle blasters
Fire Control: 1D
Range: 100/300/600
Damage: 3D
"At 1800 hours, all repulsorlifts are towed into their designated starting positions somewhere on the playing field. To ensure a fair (and exciting) start, all vehicle engines are electronically disabled. At the start of the competition, BlastBoast control transmits a signal that activates all the repulsorlifts' engines. The character-controlled vehicles start in one of the open ground sectors. There are some 90 competitors scattered in the arena."
The vidscreen blanks, and is replaced by infinitesimally small text. The text scrolls through the display screen at a supersonic speed.
"To join in the fun of the BlastBoast 2000, we'll need your assent to these brief legal terms. Just press your thumb against the scanner, and you'll be in the most exciting fight of your life!"
The pages of legal terms continue to scroll on until the attack of the canned symphony returns. Then the display fades to black.
The legal terms all relate to the assent of competitors not to pursue legal action against the Mandellian Corporation (owners of the BlastBoast 2000), referees, other competitors, audience members, or anyone else who might cause the characters bodily injury (or death) during the BlastBoast 2000.
The attendant does not enroll the characters until all participants have agreed and imprinted their thumbs on the datapad. She then asks for the 250 credit repulsorlift rental fee, and offers the players a choice of repulsor vehicles. Privately owned repulsors may not be used, although modification of rented repulsors is permitted. The group may rent more than one repulsorlift if they wish, as long as they have sufficient personnel to crew them.
The characters have from whatever time they register until 1800 hours to prepare for the competition. Those not directly participating in the BlastBoast 2000 can watch from the stands around the dome — they can also try to evade the bounty hunters who are even now trying to track them down.
Intimidator
Craft: Maeltorp Intimidator
Type: Modified Maeltorp Cargorunner
Scale: Speeder
Length: 3.4 meters
Skill: Repulsorlift operation: landspeeder
Crew: 1
Passengers: 0
Cargo Capacity: 25 kilograms
Cover: Full
Altitude Range: Ground level — 1 meter
Maneuverability: 0D
Move: 70; 200 kmh
Body Strength: 6D
Weapons: Tritium Mining Drill
Fire Arc: Forward
Skill: Repulsorlift operation
Fire Control: 0D
Range: Contact
Damage: 6D
As the characters and their vehicles are towed out onto the field, read aloud:
Strapped into your ejection chair, you fidget as your vehicle is pushed along by one of the BlastBoast's utility tugs. You emerge from the close confines of the service tunnel into the yawning battle arena. The dome is still immersed in darkness, but you can make out the motion of other tugs, no doubt pushing rival competitors onto the field. Looking up, you can see the massive scoreboard hovering 30 meters high under the power of its own repulsors. Beyond the colorful display you can make out thousands of insect-sized bodies, writhing back and forth behind the protection of the BlastBoast dome. No doubt they are loyal fans anxiously awaiting the start of the carnage. Your vehicle jolts slightly, as the tug releases you with a metallic thunk. Through the cockpit's thin transparisteel viewport, you can hear the muffled voice of the BlastBoast announcer, his voice echoing through the arena.
When the BlastBoast 2000 begins, read aloud:
Your eardrums are shattered by a cannon blast, and then the lights of the arena jump to full brilliance! Your repulsorlift is activated by BlastBoast control, and the cockpit indicators leap to life. Although the crowd's roar is only pumped into the arena on speakers, it is almost deafening. Ahead, you can see the other vehicles are under way, beginning to jockey for position as they trade volleys.
While it is important to describe the BlastBoast as a massive demolition derby, do not try to determine the status of each vehicle through game terms and mechanics. The BlastBoast 2000 is a lightning fast survival of the fittest, and characters do not have the luxury of considering strategic moves and counter-moves. Each round there is 50 percent chance a rival vehicle engage the character. Determine the type of this vehicle randomly (Roll one die, 1 or 2 is a Velocity 200, 3 or 4 is an Intimidator, 5 or 6 is a Dominator).
BlastBoast 2000 Competitor
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D, dodge 4D, vehicle blasters 4D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
MECHANICAL 4D
Repulsorlift operation 5D
PERCEPTION 2D
STRENGTH 3D
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), jump suit
Each competitor's skills start at the die codes prescribed above by the BlastBoast 2000 Competitor stats. As the contest continues, describe other vehicles' efforts and demises (for example, vehicles explode while throwing debris, repulsorlifts crash through maze walls, stray shots strafe the players).
The longer the characters survive, the tougher the competition becomes (as the experienced and professional pilots weed out the rookie crews). After 10 rounds of action, augment all newly engaging competitor's skills by 1D. After another five rounds, increase the opposing skill values by another 1D. At this point, there are only 10 vehicles left.
If you have inserted one of your campaign's recurring gamemaster character enemies into the BlastBoast, he or she is one of the 10 remaining rivals.
BlastBoast Obstacles
The BlastBoast's terrain is riddled with obstacles. The maze is a series of duranium plates 10 meters tall (terrain difficulty Moderate). If a vehicle fails a turning maneuver (which must be a 90 degree turn), roll the strength of the wall (5D) against the hull strength of the vehicle, and compare the difference on the Vehicle Damage Chart on page 95 of Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game, Second Edition. If the wall is lightly or heavily damaged, it is dented, ripped, or similarly damaged. A destroyed wall breaks apart, and other vehicles may fly through the newly formed aperture. Of course, if the wall's strength roll is greater than the vehicle's body strength roll, the character's repulsorlift craft is damaged.
The tritium pole forest (terrain difficulty Difficult), consists of 50 metal cones of varying sizes. The average base diameter is one meter. All of the poles are decorated with spiked protrusions, which do 3D+2 damage to any vehicle whose pilot fails the Difficult repulsorlift operation roll needed to safely navigate this obstacle. The hill-covered areas are Easy terrain to negotiate. See Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game, Second Edition for information and rules on repulsorlift operations and combat.
Eight lift platforms, approximately four meters across, have power sensors mounted in the exact center of their metallic shell. When one detects a continuous power emission (in this case, a repulsorlift engine), it activates dynamotors located under the BlastBoast arena. The platform, supported by four duranium struts, rapidly rises to a height of 12 meters. From this position, any vehicle firing weapons gains a +1D bonus to the gunner's roll to hit, and opposing vehicles do not gain the benefit of defensive cover.
To lower the platform, the vehicle must edge itself off the power sensor without falling off the platform itself. This requires a Moderate repulsorlift operation roll. While on a raised lift platform, it is impossible to take evasive action. Any vehicle jumping or falling off a lift platform must have its pilot make a Very Difficult repulsorlift operation roll or take 4D of impact damage. The support struts have a strength of 3D. If two are hit, a lift platform will collapse.
Each of the four exit points is clearly marked, and each has a vehicle-sized turbolift and a character-scale staircase. Vehicles and personnel reaching the exit point can descend to the adjacent hangar level and find safety. However, this puts them out of contention for any prizes.
Anybody Left Is A Winner
If the players are lucky to finish in the top five positions, they are awarded prizes and an appropriately gauche trophy. Fifth place earns 2,500 credits, fourth place 5,000 credits, third place 7,500 credits, second place 10,000 credits, and first place 15,000 credits. There is a casual award ceremony, with large amounts of beverages being sprayed over the victors and their craft.
Sadly, the characters may not know or recall that the convention 88 levels up has come to its conclusion hours ago, and it is likely that some of the bounty hunter attendees are present. The characters soon find their celebration cut short by a group of angry bounty hunters out to claim their own prizes.
Episode Five: A Friend Among Foes
At some point the characters run into a band of bounty hunters actively intent on collecting the rewards posted. If they have just participated in the BlastBoast 2000, the characters meet the bounty hunters at the awards ceremony or as they're leaving the BlastBoast arena.
If the group avoids the BlastBoast 2000 and is still on the run in Echnos City, they occasionally encounter a mercenary or bounty hunter looking for them. There are three repulsorlift vehicles also engaged in the search. It is important for the gamemaster to remind characters of the ongoing chase, without resorting to combat at every sighting. Allow the players an opportunity to take some sort of evasive action before the hunters see them. For example, give all players a chance to make a Moderate Perception roll to hear a repulsor moving at high speed through an Echnos street. As they dash for cover in stores or behind street debris, the repulsor cruises by.
The characters should keep in mind that even if they get to their ship, without the Polydex-9 it will be impossible to leave the Echnos system.
Eventually they are ambushed by several cunning hunters who have been tracking them at a distance from their other less skilled and less subtle colleagues.
Cunning Bounty Hunters
Type: Bounty Hunter
DEXTERITY 4D
Blaster 6D, dodge 5D, melee combat 5D
KNOWLEDGE 2D+2
Streetwise 3D+2
MECHANICAL 2D+2
Jet pack operation 4D, repulsorlift operation 3D, space transports 4D
PERCEPTION 3D
Hide 4D, search 5D, sneak 4D+2
STRENGTH 3D+2
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), blaster rifle (5D), bounty hunter armor (+1D energy, +2D physical, -1D Dexterity), 2 grenades (5D), jet pack, medpac, vibro-knife (STR+1D)
Halfway through the bounty hunter ambush, the heroes are pulled aside by a man who seems to be a smuggler. He introduces himself as he fires at some of the group's antagonists. After forcing the bounty hunters to retreat or disband, he leads them through a maze of corridors and passageways to relative safety.
Read aloud:
The man introduces himself as Daxtorn — he is an agile young man dressed in loose brown clothing. His hair often waves down in front of his eyes before he clears it away with a casual hand motion. He wears a modified heavy blaster pistol at his side, its telescopic scope along its barrel indicating that he's done some work with it. His brown uniform is accented by a rather bulky black belt that surrounds his waist.
Daxtorn Lethos
Type: Bounty Hunter
DEXTERITY 4D
Blaster 7D, dodge 7D, grenade 5D+2, heavy weapons 5D
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Cultures 4D+2, languages 5D, planetary systems 4D, streetwise 6D, value 5D
MECHANICAL 2D+2
Astrogation 6D+1, repulsorlift operation 3D+2, space transports: heavy interceptor 8D, starship gunnery 7D, starship shields 5D
PERCEPTION 3D
Command 4D+2, hide 7D, search 5D+2, sneak 7D
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 5D, climbing/jumping 4D+1, stamina 3D+2
TECHNICAL 2D+1
Demolition 4D+1, repulsorlift repair 3D, space transports repair 5D
Force Points: 4
Dark Side Points: 2
Character Points: 10
Move: 10
Equipment: Advanced holographic belt, heavy blaster pistol with telescopic sight, +1D to fire (5D), 2 flash grenades, datapad with list of current bounties, the Gorgon (heavy interceptor), 4,500 credits
Daxtorn Lethos attended the Academy, where he first began his familiarity with starship operations. A year before graduation he disappeared without a trace. Although he was doing well in his training, officials believed he found the structured learning approach beneath a man of his intelligence and capabilities. Daxtorn appeared several years later, running illegal high-technologies to a variety of illicit organizations. It was only much later that his career took him into the bounty hunting business.
Daxtorn is able to slip by authorities and targets alike through use of his holographic belt. The belt allows him to project an image over himself, allowing him to take any humanoid appearance he chooses. His favorite disguises are dashing Humans in their young adult years. Daxtorn, while being old for a man of his trade, is a highly respected individual in his chosen line of work. However, he is not so overly confident in his abilities that he refuses to retreat and fight another day when circumstances demand it.
Daxtorn introduces himself as a rogue smuggler with no love for the Empire or their hired goons. He asks the characters if there is anything he can do to assist them, as he has been intent on joining the Rebel Alliance. Upon hearing of their troubles, he mentions that he has a reserve supply of Polydex-9 he would be happy to share — in return he simply asks the characters to grant him an unnamed favor in the future. He gives directions to the bay where his shuttle is docked and asks them to meet him there in one hour. With that he departs, explaining that he must continue repairs on his starship if he is to complete a trade agreement.
Daxtorn is actually a resourceful bounty hunter who intends to capture the characters in an elaborate trap. He helped the characters fight off the other bounty hunters to rid himself of some competition and to secure the trap he has laid for the group in his shuttle craft.
Daxtorn's belt is a unique holographic projector which allows him to change his outwardly appearance with any programmed image. Characters making a Difficult Perception roll detect an odd "haze" about Daxtorn, as though he were standing in the center of a faint heat mirage. Jedi characters with appropriate Force abilities should roll against Daxtorn's Perception of 3D if they wish to probe his mind for indications of his true intentions.
Episode Six: The Trap is Sprung
When the characters visit Daxtorn's landing bay, read aloud:
You enter the highest tier of this docking pillar, located near the top rim of the city dome. A large landing pad stretches across the entire pillar's surface. A small shuttle craft rests close to you, while a ship almost six times its size stands behind it. The main bay doors on the shuttle are open, and its boarding ramp is extended outward. The larger ship has a more ominous look, though it appears to be sealed and powered down. Four powerful ion engines are mounted on each corner of her broad base, one of which is being attended to by a repair droid. The ship's hull slopes upward toward the cockpit some 30 meters above the landing pad floor. Impressive weapon clusters are shouldered on either side of the cockpit module.
Daxtorn appears in the shuttle craft entrance, and waves to you to come on board.
Daxtorn is not truly in the shuttle craft, but is waiting in the cockpit of his heavy interceptor, the Gorgon. The image the characters see on the shuttle is a previously recorded holographic projection of Daxtorn. The ceiling-mounted projector uses similar technology as his belt. As such, Daxtorn's equipment does not suffer from the artificial appearance and sound that is inherent of more compact and affordable technology (such as holo-projectors found in R2 series astromech droids).
Characters with life sense may attempt to verify Daxtorn's presence, but only if they specifically state they are doing so. Since the image is within line-of-sight and the characters have met Daxtorn only once, add a +14 modifier to the difficulty number.
Easy space transports or space transport repair rolls permit the characters to identify the starships. The smaller craft is a Garlonti Personal Shuttle, with minimal armament and defensive capabilities. The larger vessel probably belongs to the heavy interceptor classification, used by some independent systems for patrol and defense operations. While heavy interceptors' drive sections are commonly under-powered, their superior weapon and shield systems make them impressive gunships. This particular interceptor appears to have had its engines upgraded. Characters succeeding in rolling a Difficult space transport repair or Moderate Perception roll notice the heavy interceptor does not appear to be seriously damaged, as there is no indication of hull stress or secondary carbon scoring. In truth, there is nothing wrong with the Gorgon. The repair droid is present only to add credence to Daxtorn's ruse that he needed to repair his own ship.
When the characters enter the shuttle, read aloud:
You have just entered the shuttle craft's main compartment. At the front of the ship is a flight console, with a seat for the pilot and the copilot — both of which are empty at the moment. Through the pilot's forward viewport you can see the heavy interceptor standing at silent attention. The main compartment has several plush seats, a small table, a computer terminal, and a limited auto kitchen. To the rear are what appears to be storage compartments and two escape capsules. Three metallic canisters rest on the table.
The canisters are filled with genuine Polydex-9, as any droid or hand-held sensor scanners can verify. Once all characters in the bay are aboard, the shuttle's doors seal and lock. Characters wishing to squeeze out the closing hatch must make a Difficult dodge roll. It takes one round for the doors to close.
Once the ship is sealed, read aloud:
With a small whirring sound, a strange mechanical device with multiple lenses drops from the ceiling. Daxtorn appears in the pilot's compartment, one hand on each chair. "Ah, greetings," he smiles, "I'm glad you've come, though I'm sorry I won't be able to join you myself, except in spirit."
Just as one of you lurches by him to the controls, his joviality turns to deadly seriousness. "Don't try messing with the shuttle's functions, they're locked into their program — which is to take you out of the Echnos dome, into the apex of the magnetic field, and then shut down the main generator. I'm sure you realize what this means. From a 10-kilometer drop, I understand death by impact is rather sudden."
Daxtorn's grin returns. "Well, I have contract money to count. I am forever in your debt," he bows. "You've made me a very rich man."
As you hear the engines begin their warm-up sequence, the image of Daxtorn fades.
Loopholes in the Trap
Within two rounds the shuttle lifts off from the landing pad. Four rounds following, it enters one of Echnos' external airlock entry ports and departs the Echnos dome. The shuttle then commences a rapid power climb for three rounds, during which characters must make Very Easy Dexterity rolls to maintain their footing. The shuttle then noses over toward the surface of the moon, fires its thrusters once, and shuts down its main generator. During this round, characters must make Moderate Dexterity or climbing/jumping rolls to get a grip on a protrusion or take 2D damage from careening into the shuttle's walls. The party has five rounds of free fall before impacting on the surface of the moon. If this unfortunate event should occur, all characters take 8D damage.
The heroes have several avenues of escape. Naturally, none of them are easy.
Engine Sabotage. While within the Echnos dome, the group may choose to disconnect the engines. A Difficult space transport repair or search roll allows a character to find the control and power lines that run to the engines. By disconnecting them, the ship immediately drops to the ground. For each round the ship has been airborne, add 2D to the damage sustained by shuttle occupants when it lands. Remember, it takes four rounds before the shuttle reaches Echnos City's airlock entry ports.
Flight Controls
The flight controls have been locked into the on-board computer and do not respond, regardless of how hard characters push and pull at them. However, if the computer can be located and disconnected, the flight controls return to normal operation. A character making a Moderate search roll (while forcibly removing one of the cockpit's dash panels) finds a blinking box with a myriad of connections snaking from it. An Easy space transports repair roll identifies this as some kind of pre-programmed control computer. A series of four Difficult space transports repair or computer programming/repair rolls allows a character to disconnect all of the cables from the box, and reassemble them to their correct flight console controls. Each repair roll takes one round. Describe the cables as a hopeless mass of tangled connectors, each one knotted with another. The cables are color-coded, but only a character making a Heroic space transports repair roll is able to differentiate the connectors' purposes. Although this is a crisis situation, this scene has the potential for some humorous moments ("I thought you said cut the blue wire with the red striping!").
All four rewiring rolls are required for correct operation of the controls. If fewer than three rolls are successful, randomly determine which systems fail, discounting rolls that identify the hyperdrive or nav computer. If the character rolls three out of four successful attempts, major systems have been correctly connected, but some controls have been mis-wired. Perhaps the engineer crossed flight control leads, causing the ship to bank left when the control stick is pushed right. Such minor mistakes in the repairs add a +10 difficulty modifier to any attempts at piloting the shuttle.
If the controls are restored, the ship answers all commands. However, if the repairs were completed after main power was lost, the pilot only has chemical maneuvering jets and airfoils to control a landing. Add +10 to all space transports difficulties. If the shuttle is in a free-fall dive at the time the pilot regains command, a Very Difficult space transports roll is required to bring the shuttle under control.
Escape Pods
The escape pods are sealed by electromagnetic locks, making them impossible to burn through with blasters. However, the magnetic lock deteriorates when the shuttle's main power shuts off. The blast door has a strength of 7D (character scale) once the magnetic seal has failed. If the damage roll of any weapon does not exceed the door's strength roll, the attempt is completely unsuccessful and the door acquires no lightly or heavily damaged status.
Each pod is designed to can carry two human-sized occupants. Three can fit in the safety webbing, but upon landing all occupants take 2D in impact damage. The pods launch by the detonation of explosive bolts, which require a Moderate space transports roll to ignite.
Once airborne, the pod is powerless but can be flown via manual air maneuvering vanes. The pod must be guided to a "safe" landing area, away from the original flight path toward Echnos' mountain range (a Difficult space transports roll). A Heroic space transports roll lands the pod intact with no damage near the Echnos City dome. A Moderate space transports roll allows the pod to bounce to a shaky stop, but all occupants not in the safety webbing suffer 5D in impact damage. Echnos flight control officials detect the escape pods and a rescue repulsor arrives at the pod's location within 10 minutes.
Bailing Out. Any character making an Easy search roll finds plastithread tarps stored in one of the shuttle's main compartments, along with two days of rations. There are at least 20 square meters of fabric — most commonly used to protect sensitive equipment from hostile weather. A Moderate survival roll allows a desperate character to construct a makeshift parachute. By spraying it with the Polydex-9, the chute also offers some protection from Tinn VI's magnetic radiation — an idea a character can come up with on an Easy survival roll. Remember, to survive on the moon's surface, characters need breath masks. Characters can find a utility compartment with several breath masks with a Moderate search roll.
To abandon ship, the heroes must blast through the ship's hull. The cockpit's transparisteel viewport is especially susceptible to such actions, and only has a 6D strength (character scale). If outside the Echnos City dome when the hull is punctured, the shuttle violently decompresses. All characters must make a Moderate climbing/jumping or Dexterity roll to grab hold of something, or they are shot out of the shuttle prematurely. Once parachuting, a character must make a successful Moderate climbing/jumping roll or suffer a bad fall and 3D damage when landing. While protected by the Polydex-9, a character has only about 50 minutes of safety before the radiation begins to negatively impact their health. The characters should try to either reach the Echnos City dome or find some way to signal for help.
The Gorgon
Craft: Corellian Engineering INT-66
Type: Modified heavy interceptor
Scale: Starfighter
Length: 50 meters
Skill: Space transports: heavy interceptor
Crew: 1
Passengers: 3
Cargo Capacity: 35 metric tons
Consumables: 4 months
Hyperdrive Multiplier: x1
Hyperdrive Backup: x10
Nav Computer: Yes
Maneuverability: 2D
Space: 8
Atmosphere: 185; 530 kmh
Hull: 5D
Shields: 2D
Sensors:
Passive: 20/1D
Active: 45/1D+2
Search: 75/2D+2
Focus: 3/3D+2
Weapons:
2 Turbolasers (fire-linked, fire every other round)
Fire Arc: Front
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 2D
Space Range: 1-4/15/30
Atmosphere Range: 100-400/1.5/3 km
Damage: 7D
4 Multi-Repeat Blasters (fire-linked)
Fire Arc: Front
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 2D
Space Range: 1-3/12/20
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2 km
Damage: 4D
Double Pulse Laser
Fire Arc: Turret
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 3D
Space Range: 1-3/12/25
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2.5 km
Damage: 5D+2
Episode Seven: Parting Shots
When the haggard characters return to Echnos City, they more than likely have acquired the Polydex-9 via one of several methods — either purchasing it with their own credits or credits won in the BlastBoast 2000, or by getting it through Daxtorn Lethos' trap.
When they return to their ship, astute characters (those making a Moderate sensors or Perception roll) observe Daxtorn Lethos' starship, the Gorgon, lifting off from its landing pad. It takes one minute and an Easy space transports repair roll for characters to apply the Polydex-9 to the magnetic bottle, after which their ship is ready for flight. Since only two canisters are required to complete repairs, the characters may have a surplus of the chemical — in which case they may sell the remainder for a handsome profit.
If they are wise, the heroes do not pursue the Gorgon, as it is likely the heavy interceptor is far better armed than their ship is. However, vengeful characters probably want to take some parting shots.
Depending on the characters' method of evading certain doom in the shuttle trap, Daxtorn may believe them to be dead and proceeds out of the Tinn system to his next job. If the characters do nothing the scenario ends without a starship confrontation. If the characters attack, Daxtorn recognizes their ship and sets out to make sure they're dead this time.
Echnos City flight control does not take kindly to armed starship combat within the dome. However, any warfare conducted at a safe distance from the city dome is not interrupted. If shots are fired within the city dome, Echnos control launches 12 Protector StarSpeeders to eliminate one of the contestants. Their first target is likely to be the characters' vessel since the characters fired the first shot and are in a ship the StarSpeeders can easily defeat.
Echnos Patrol Protector StarSpeeder
Scale: Starfighter
Starfighter Piloting: 4D+2
Starship Gunnery: 4D
Maneuverability: 3D
Space: 9
Atmosphere: 195; 560 kmh
Hull: 3D
Weapons: 2 laser cannons (fire-linked, fire control 3D, damage 4D)
Daxtorn is a seasoned and cunning pilot. If he senses that he is on the losing side of a fight, he seeks the quickest route from the Echnos system and returns to claim his bounty another day. He is particularly proud of the Gorgon and will be equally indignant and furious at the characters should they damage it. Before jumping to hyperspace, he promises to extract his revenge upon the characters and all that they hold close to them. Daxtorn Lethos has become an enemy for life.
Fragments from the Mind's Eye
by Pablo Hidalgo
Creatures Preview
Creature Illustration & Concept: Dan Schaefer Design: Bill Smith
Creatures of the Galaxy is a new handbook describing some of the more dangerous and interesting animals that populate the Star Wars galaxy. In all, more than 60 new creatures will be introduced — some dangerous, some friendly, but all unique to the Star Wars universe. Creatures of the Galaxy won't be released until December — but you can catch a glimpse of two original exotic beasties (not included in Creatures of the Galaxy) in this Star Wars Adventure Journal exclusive!
Maungur
Maungurs are animals believed to inhabit the extreme polar regions of Rishi (which are, by most Human standards, fairly warm). They have become known to galactic biologists only through the oral legends of the Rishii themselves (for more information, see the novel Dark Force Rising and pages 82-83 and 95-96 of the Dark Force Rising Sourcebook).
Maungurs seem to be almost worshipped by the Rishii. Many ancient Rishii legends personify the creatures: they are typically characterized as being "conflict incarnate" — not beings of evil, but they represent a force of nature that must be acknowledged and respected (and feared). "Maungur" is the Rishii word for a "spirit of violent, senseless conflict that cannot be reasoned with," but scientists and local residents have not yet learned the dual meaning of the word.
Maungur
Type: Tropical hunting beast
DEXTERITY 2D
PERCEPTION 3D
Search: tracking 6D
STRENGTH 4D
Brawling 5D+2, climbing/jumping 6D
Special Abilities:
Kithaj Attack: Maungurs have microscopic razor-claws on their limbs (kithaj). They cause STR+3D damage.
Endurance: Maungurs have incredible endurance. They can go for weeks without sleep or water; they often catch their prey only after tracking and exhausting it.
Move: 9
Size: Up to 3 meters tall
Scale: Creature
Maungurs are supposed to prey on nearly any creature they come across (including the Rishii themselves), although the Rishii maintain that the creatures' main diet consists of khi'rs, large leaf-eating herbivores known to inhabit the sheltered valleys of the world.
The Rishii describe maungurs as being approximately three meters tall, with elongated forelimbs. However, instead of wings (as is the norm for the avian Rishii), hands, or paws, maungurs have flexible "limb-tails." Scientists assume that they are flexible, cartilage limbs. The Rishii claim that one swing from one of these great limbs, called "kithaj" (plural: kithaji) is enough to eviscerate a being, indicating the possibility of small claws or razored hooks on the kithaji.
The maungurs have pronounced, curved beaks for finishing the hunt. Maungurs have thick skin that is generally colored brown or black; they have small, brilliant red tufts of hair along their arms and lower legs, back spikes that are brown or black, and gray beaks.
While not common, maungurs are dangerous. Maungurs are relentless once something has attracted their attention (a lesson many Rishii have learned the hard way). Maungurs have been known to stalk prey for days or weeks without attacking. When they do attack, however, maungurs seem to have a tendency to desire direct confrontation against superior numbers of opponents. Rishii seldom venture to the valleys the maungurs haunt and do not often come into direct conflict with them; only at the height of the warmest seasons do the maungurs venture toward the high peaks where the Rishii make their homes. When this does occur, the Rishii, being pragmatic creatures, flee their home nests rather than fight "a spirit of Rishi."
The Rishii seldom talk openly about these creatures, discussing the subject only in cryptic references (this information has been pieced together from scattered reports and idle speculation). The Rishii act as if they believe the maungur themselves may be listening to every word that is said about them. Rishii mythology also venerates the maungur as "religious creatures." Therefore, to kill one is an unforgivable offense.
While these animals seem to have a definite preference for warmer temperatures, they have not yet migrated to the lower, more densely inhabited regions of Rishi. The Rishii have no explanation for this, only claiming that "the maungur has not yet found these areas." This has led traders and settlers to speculate that these creatures are only myths of legend or that the Rishii have something to hide on the most extreme regions of their world (leading adventurous explorers to seek out whatever "countless fortunes must exist there"). Scientists who have accepted the Rishiis' descriptions at face value suggest that perhaps a virus, microbe or strain of bacteria dangerous to the maungurs exists in the lower regions but is not known to the extreme regions of the planet.
The Rishii have no complaint with colonists settling in their world's valleys. It is presumed that further expansion into more extreme regions would not be opposed, even if that expansion would risk crossing into maungur territory. While the Rishii believe the creatures are sacred, their habitats are not; perhaps the Rishii feel that if the colonists bring the wrath of the maungurs upon themselves, they will have to learn to deal with the situation. However, legends of the maungurs may explain the Rishiis' reluctance to live in or visit the valleys of their world.
To add fuel to the speculation, several isolated "pioneers" have reported mysterious nighttime attacks. In all cases, the attackers were driven off (however, this seems to directly contradict the Rishii legends about the tenacity of the creatures). The Rishii, noting these attacks, suggest that perhaps the maungurs have finally found the settlers — and conflict will be upon them and their homelands — an eerie allusion to the ongoing Galactic Civil War. Should legends of the maungurs prove true, the settlers of Rishi would be obligated to leave the animals alone due to their own laws about respecting all religious beliefs.
Pantolomin Halfback
The Pantolomin halfback is an amphibious, primarily mammalian animal that has been made famous by tourists visiting the resort planet of Pantolomin. Their varying coloration and playful antics seem to show up in every promotional holovid; stylized illustrations of halfbacks show up on countless souvenirs.
Physically, Pantolomin halfbacks are one and a half to two meters long, with over half of their length taken up by a tapering and flexible tail. The animal can retract or extend large fins which run from the back of its head to its neck — the halfback "swims" on its side by wriggling its tail (much like various water snakes), as well as by flapping its fins (as more traditional aquatic creatures do). Halfbacks have elongated forelimbs and immense eyes perfectly suited to "full" daylight or the darkness of Pantolomin's ocean depths. Their thick, rounded bodies have thick shells on the "bottom" (and the creature is quick enough underwater that it can bring its armored plates to bear against most attacks).
Halfbacks breath air, but spend most of their time in the water. They do come onto land during early afternoon, using their forelimbs to drag themselves. They hunt for small crustaceans and insects for food (to supplement their diet of small fish and plankton), but also to "sun" themselves. It is believed that they lay out in the sun to absorb and store heat so they can survive the temperature changes in the lower ocean depths.
Halfbacks get their names from the first Human encounter with them — the original scouts saw a bunch of halfbacks floating in shallow water and sunning themselves. They recorded in their journals that the creatures appeared to be half-man and half-beast, and when in shallow water, they just showed their "backs." The odd name remained.
Pantolomin halfbacks are quite popular among tourists for several reasons. Their bright and constantly changing coloration draws the attention of even the most jaded traveler. They are distinctive and interesting enough to stand out even when compared to the kaleidoscope of color found beneath Pantolomin's oceans.
Halfbacks change their coloring quickly, almost as if dozens of brilliant inks were flowing over their skin — "natural" or relaxed coloration tends toward brilliant yellow and green, but color is the primary means of communication with other members of the school. As some would describe them, "they are living canvasses." Bright red indicates food is nearby, orange indicates a willingness to play and so forth (while this is not common knowledge to the tourists, purple indicates danger is nearby). When on the beaches of Pantolomin, they normally take on a yellow to light brown appearance, again lending a vaguely-Human appearance to them.
A second feature of the halfbacks is their propensity for playful competition. Halfbacks are naturally found in schools of anywhere from 30 to 200 animals and they are almost constantly "wrestling" and nudging each other in the same way that bantha pups do. This play is peaceful — the creatures are naturally peaceful and would rather flee predators than fight.
Pantolomin Halfback
Type: Playful aquatic sea creature
DEXTERITY 2D
PERCEPTION 2D+2
STRENGTH 1D+2
Swimming 4D
Orneriness: 2D
Special Abilities:
Color Change: Halfbacks can change their colors almost instantly, giving them a fluid, constantly changing appearance.
Move: 7 (crawling), 18 (swimming)
Size: 1.5-2 meters long
Scale: Creature
Halfbacks are attracted to shiny objects, which they are fond of wrestling for; the winner then drags the object off to a small warren each halfback builds in the great coral expanses of Pantolomin's oceans. Halfback warrens house collections of lost baubles, jewelry and lost coins.
Pantolomin, and in particular the suboceanic cruise ship Coral Vanda, is known as a gambler's paradise. And, yes, the Pantolomin halfback has been used as a means of betting money. In a game called "halfback's bluff," a cruise ship launches a specific trinket into the middle of a school of halfbacks: bets are placed on which particular animal will eventually retrieve the trinket (the house wins if the playful wrestling of the halfbacks goes on for more than 10 minutes and none of the creatures has pulled the trinket to its warren). This game is particularly popular among "casual gamblers" who prefer low ante bets and just watching the animals play over wagering huge sums of money. Unfortunately, despite the best efforts of the native Lomins, various underworld interests have found these very popular contests far too easy to rig, and quite a few high stakes bets have later been found to have been fixed contests.
Halfbacks are also popular companions on Pantolomin's beaches. It is not uncommon for tourist sunbathers to find a few halfbacks scuttling up to them and "singing" at them (halfback "songs" are a series of high-pitched squeals). If the halfback gets any attention — a comment in its general direction or a pat on the nose or back—the halfbacks playfully follow the visitor around for hours on end.
Halfbacks have been domesticated as pets by the year-round residents and they are known for their loyalty and intelligence.
Entrepreneurs on Pantolomin have also begun offering "halfback rides": the creatures seem eager to allow surface dwellers to ride on their sides while they swim and will also pull "carts" behind them. In the few cases where halfbacks have been mistreated, they have simply left their masters. Tour guides encourage the halfbacks to bring riders to the brilliant coral reefs and to swim among the schools of small fish that fill the oceans. As there are few dangerous predators on Pantolomin, the tourists have almost nothing to fear while in the warm and inviting oceans.
Attempts by Barabel investors to use the animals as a food source have failed miserably, with negative public reaction being so strong that Pantolomin halfbacks are now legally protected from hunting or slaughter.
Loyalties
by James L. Cambias
Illustrations by Eric K. Olson
Blam! The smaller ship rocks violently as another powerful blast hits the faltering shields. A space battle is in progress, and the Rebels are losing. Their tiny ship is being chased by an Imperial Star Destroyer. The mighty battleship's TIE fighters harry the Rebel ship while the Star Destroyer continues its relentless pursuit. The Rebel navigator works frantically to compute a hyperspace jump for escape while the pilot dodges blasts of heavy turbolaser fire from the Star Destroyer. Suddenly, the Rebel ship gives a sickening lurch as the enemy ship locks on with a tractor beam. Escape is impossible — the Rebels can either surrender or be blown to vapor. In a scene reminiscent of the opening of Star Wars: A New Hope, the warship overhauls the Rebel vessel and drags it aboard. The Empire has won this battle.
Episode One: Escape From the Devastator
A boarding party of a dozen naval troopers comes aboard to take the Rebel characters prisoner. The troopers are led by a cocky young officer who gloats over his new captives. "You Rebels are so foolish — did you really think you could escape the Devastator? When we get finished with you, you'll wish we'd just blasted your ship to —" He is interrupted by a comlink call from a superior, impatiently demanding the prisoners.
The boarding party searches the Rebel ship very thoroughly, looking for hidden passengers, weapons, or contraband cargo. The troopers have a sensitive scanner unit, which can locate hidden compartments.
Imperial Naval Troopers
DEXTERITY 2D+1
Blaster 3D+1, dodge 3D+1, grenade 3D+1
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Streetwise 2D+1
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 3D
Search 4D
STRENGTH 2D+2
Brawling 4D+2
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: Blast helmet (+1D physical, +1 energy, head only), blast vest (+1D physical, +1 energy, torso only), heavy blaster pistol (5D), scanner (5D search skill; large black box that detects electromagnetic emissions within a 10-meter radius)
Imprisoned
The Rebel characters are placed in restraining bands and taken aboard the Star Destroyer. Each prisoner is escorted by Imperial Naval troopers. The captives are escorted to the detention block and locked up. They are confined in individual cells, with no means of communicating with one another. Even their clothing is taken and replaced with prison clothes.
The cells are tiny cubes, three meters on a side. They are designed to be almost indestructible. Light comes from fixtures in the ceiling, protected by steel grids. There is a retractable sleeping pallet of soft foam, and a waste-disposal unit. A surveillance camera is mounted in one wall behind an unbreakable sheet of clear plastic.
One by one, the characters are taken from their cells to a conference room, where they are interrogated by a bored-looking Naval Intelligence officer while three troopers stand guard. The officer pumps them with questions about their involvement in the Rebel Alliance. The interrogator is polite, even friendly. "It would really be simplest if you just tell me what I want to know. Otherwise I must hand you over to Imperial Intelligence. Not a pleasant bunch. They ... do things ... to people. So why not cooperate and save us all a lot of bother?"
Naval Intelligence Interrogator
DEXTERITY 2D
Blaster 3D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Intimidation 4D, languages 3D
MECHANICAL 2D
Sensors 3D
PERCEPTION 3D
Investigation 4D, persuasion 4D
STRENGTH 1D
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D)
Secret Message
After the interrogation, the Rebels are fed — a few guards bring sealed ration packets and a water bulb to each cell. But one of the characters discovers a small object in his food packet. It is an earphone. To keep the earphone hidden from the surveillance camera requires a Moderate hide skill roll. When inserted into the character's ear, the device plays a short message. Read aloud:
There will be a main reactor failure at exactly 1600 hours. The electronic locks on your cell will deactivate. The entire ship will be without power for nine minutes. Take the access tube behind the guard station down to the central companionway, then follow the corridor forward 60 meters to the docking bay. If you don't escape, you'll be scheduled for termination when the ship reaches base.
When the message is over, the characters have just enough time to remove the device before their earphone's battery overloads, destroying it.
Jailbreak!
As promised, at 1600 hours the lights go dark. If the characters decide to go along with the mysterious proposal, they can begin their escape. While the power is temporarily out, security cameras and alarms don't function. Turbolifts are paralyzed. The intercom system is down, and the comlink channels are jammed with frantic messages. Blast doors and airlocks must be operated manually. The ship is dead in space, unable to move, fire weapons, raise shields, or operate sensors.
Characters who make an Easy security skill roll will know that the cell doors should have a manual lock override to prevent prisoners from escaping during a power failure. Apparently someone forgot to engage the manual locks — or deliberately sabotaged them.
The power will be down for 100 game rounds. The gamemaster should keep careful track of how much time the players are spending — if they dawdle too much, they may not be able to get away.
Outside the cells, the ship is dark, lit only by a few emergency lights and hand lamps as the Star Destroyer crew tries frantically to get the Devastator operational. There are only two guards in the detention area, armed with blasters.
Detention Area Guards
Type: NPC
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D, dodge 4D, melee combat 3D+2, brawling parry 4D
KNOWLEDGE 1D
MECHANICAL 1D
PERCEPTION 3D
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 4D
TECHNICAL 1D
Security 3D+1
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster
Other Prisoners
Most of the cells in the detention block are unoccupied. The eight cells that do contain prisoners are marked on the detention level map. Four of the prisoners are members of the crew awaiting court-martial. The Imperial prisoners know their way around the ship very well, but their first reaction will be to attempt to stop the characters from escaping. It requires a Difficult con or persuasion skill roll to convince the Imperial prisoners to help the Rebels escape.
Imprisoned Crew
Type: NPC
DEXTERITY 2D
Brawling parry 3D, dodge 3D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
MECHANICAL 3D
PERCEPTION 2D
STRENGTH 2D
Brawling 4D
TECHNICAL 2D
Capital starship repair 4D, capital starship weapon repair 4D, computer programming/repair 4D
Move: 10
The other four prisoners are brothers — Cade, Ferm, Jole, and Pano Umarian. The Umarian brothers are captured pirates, and are quite willing to follow the characters' lead in escaping.
Umarian Brothers
Type: NPC
DEXTERITY 2D
Blaster 3D, dodge 3D, melee combat 3D, melee parry 3D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Streetwise 3D
MECHANICAL 3D
Space transports 4D
PERCEPTION 2D
STRENGTH 3D
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
The Way Out
The access tube leads down 30 meters to the central companionway of the ship. Climbing down the tube counts as movement through Moderate terrain. Halfway down, the Rebels encounter two astromech droids checking a power relay in a perpendicular access duct. The droids do not notice that the characters are prisoners until they are within a meter of the access duct.
R3 Astromech Droids
Type: NPC
DEXTERITY 1D
KNOWLEDGE 1D
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 1D
STRENGTH 1D
TECHNICAL 2D
Capital starship repair 6D, computer programming/repair 5D
Move: 5
When they notice the prisoners, or if they are attacked, the droids attempt to flee down the access duct, making loud hoots of alarm.
The central companionway is filled with hurrying crew members. It is 250 meters from the access tube to the hangar where the characters' ship is being held. The Rebels are going to have a difficult time sneaking by the crew, unless they grab a few crew members and "borrow" their uniforms. Disguised as Imperial technicians, the characters still have to make a Moderate sneak roll to make it down the corridor without being recognized as the Rebel prisoners. Most of the crew members are not armed.
Sidebar: Star Destroyer Interior
The diagram shows a not-to-scale interior layout of a Star Destroyer, highlighting key areas relevant to an adventure scenario involving Imperial prisoners and Rebel characters. Key locations marked on the diagram include:
- Imperial Prisoners: Held in cells near the top left.
- Rebel Characters: Positioned nearby for potential rescue operations.
- Detention Block: Central area containing prisoner cells.
- Umarian Brothers: Specific prisoners of interest located within the detention block.
- Access Shaft (30 Meters): Vertical passage connecting different levels.
- Central Companion Way (250 Meters): Main corridor running through the ship's interior.
- Airlock Staging Area: Preparatory zone for boarding operations.
- Docking Bay: Where ships can land and dock.
- Character's Ship Located Here: Designated spot for player character vessels.
Naval Crew
DEXTERITY 2D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Bureaucracy 3D
MECHANICAL 3D
PERCEPTION 2D
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 3D
Capital starship repair 4D, capital starship weapon repair 4D, computer programming/repair 4D, droid programming 4D, droid repair 4D
Move: 10
At the docking bay, the Rebel characters have to manually operate the airlocks and somehow release the giant grapple holding their ship in place. Operating the airlocks is a Very Easy Technical task, as the emergency manual controls are clearly labelled. Releasing the grapple is a bit more difficult. It takes a Moderate capital starship repair skill roll to figure out that there is an emergency manual release at the grapple joint just above where it's securing the ship. Otherwise, it takes a Difficult shot from a weapon mounted dorsally to blast the grapple free.
When the grapple releases, the Rebels can blast off for freedom. They are not a moment too soon, for lights begin to come on aboard the Star Destroyer as the characters make the jump to hyperspace.
Sensible characters search their ship for tracking devices, on the chance that their entire escape was part of some sinister Imperial plan. They find no tracking devices, but a Moderate search roll uncovers an extra entry in the ship's log — apparently made while the Rebels were being held prisoner. The log entry is a second message from the characters' unknown benefactor. It shows an Imperial officer wearing a blast helmet with the visor down to conceal his face. His rank insignia are missing. Read the officer's message aloud:
Congratulations on your escape. Now I have a favor to ask of you. The Imperial Security Bureau has sent a team of agents to arrest Admiral Chel Dorat for treason. Some of us still remember his brave service leading the Navy of the Old Republic. You must go to his home on Jerrilek and warn him that he is in danger.
Admiral Dorat
Anyone making an Easy Knowledge roll recognizes the name of Chel Dorat. He was one of the Old Republic's greatest admirals in its final days, and was an outspoken critic of the corruption that destroyed the Old Republic. Dorat supported the Emperor's rise to power, and for a time served on the Imperial General Staff. But since his retirement he has become critical of the Empire's methods.
If the ISB is going to arrest him, he may be ready to join the Rebellion. The Admiral is widely known and respected throughout the Empire, and knows a great deal about the Imperial Navy's plans and operations. Dorat would be of great value to the Alliance, if he can be persuaded to switch sides.
Episode Two: Trouble in Paradise
The voyage to Jerrilek is uneventful, although the gamemaster decides to liven things up with a few random encounters. When the Rebel ship emerges from hyperspace, the ringed blue globe of Jerrilek fills the viewports.
According to the planetary data net accessible from Jerrilek's main starport, Admiral Dorat lives at the home of his daughter, Preela Dorat. The Dorat household is in the city of Graleca, in the equatorial archipelago.
Jerrilek
Type: Terrestrial
Temperature: Warm Temperate
Atmosphere: Type I (breathable)
Hydrosphere: Saturated
Gravity: Standard
Terrain: Tropical islands, mountain forests
Length of Day: 14 standard hours
Length of Year: 594 local days
Sapient Species: Humans, Ithorians
Starport: 2 Stellar class, 1 standard class
Population: 12 million Humans, 5.1 million Ithorians
Planet Function: Tourism, aquaculture, entertainment
Government: Imperial governor
Tech Level: Space
Major Exports: Seafood products, holovids, watercraft
Major Imports: Metals, droids, luxury items
Jerrilek is a lush, tropical world favored by aristocrats as a vacation spot and retirement home. The land area covers 15 percent of the planet and consists of two small continents and extensive island chains. Nearly all the land is located in the equatorial region. The two small continents are almost entirely mountainous, covered with dense forests of great beauty. The planet has no moons, but does have a spectacular set of rings. Due to the short day, most of the planet's inhabitants have adopted a system of sleeping every other night. Jerrilek has no native sentient beings. Archaeologists have found evidence that an intelligent aquatic species did exist on Jerrilek a million years ago, but has since become extinct for unknown reasons. Ruined cities still exist in the ocean depths.
Graleca, Jerrilek
Graleca is one of the largest cities on Jerrilek, with a population of half a million. It is not one of the major tourist centers — Graleca is a working town, a center of the aquacultural industry and home to much of the planet's small manufacturing base. Nevertheless, it is a beautiful city with airy buildings of white stone and lush gardens. The waters surrounding Graleca are a vivid turquoise.
The smallest of Jerrilek's three starports is at the western end of Graleca. From there the city sprawls eastward, extending halfway along the island. The north shore houses most of the city's industry, including a fishing port. The south shore is a long expanse of beach. Villas and estates are located beyond the city limits.
Encounters in Graleca
At the starport, the characters notice an unusual ship on the field. It is a sleek light cruiser, and stands out among all the freighters like a predator in a rycrit herd. The ship has no identification on the hull. Characters making a Moderate Knowledge roll are able to tell that the ship resembles an Imperial Guardian-class customs cruiser, but with reduced armament. The starport command tower does not provide any information about the ship.
Upon arriving at Graleca, the Umarian brothers will wish to leave the party (assuming they made it off the Devastator). If the characters want them to remain with the group, someone must make a Difficult persuasion skill roll to persuade them to change their minds. Any Imperial crew members who accompanied the Rebels stay with the group — as deserters and mutineers they are now under sentence of death, and the Rebellion is their only hope.
Getting in to See the Admiral
The Dorats live in a villa at the eastern end of the island. Finding the villa is easy — getting into the Dorat home is difficult. The place has extensive security — all the doors have locks that require Very Difficult security rolls to open, and there are motion sensors on the grounds that have a search skill of 4D. If intruders are detected, security forces arrive by landspeeder 2D minutes later.
The servant droid on duty at the gate has been instructed to turn away visitors. It will require a Difficult persuasion, con, or intimidation roll to convince the droid to let the characters onto the villa grounds.
Servant Droid D3S
DEXTERITY 1D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Business 4D, value 4D
MECHANICAL 2D
Ground vehicle operation 2D, seaskimmer operation 2D
PERCEPTION 2D
Search 4D
STRENGTH 1D
TECHNICAL 1D
First aid 3D
Move: 7
If the Rebels can get into the house, they are met by Preela Dorat, the Admiral's daughter. Preela appears to be a typical spoiled aristocrat. She is initially hostile toward any visitors, insisting that they leave at once. Only if the characters mention that they have a message for the Admiral is she willing to hear what they have to say. If they mention that he is in danger, she seems very concerned. But she cannot let them speak with her father. "I'd love to, but Father isn't here. A trio of young men came by this morning. They said they were historians, and wanted to interview Father about his service in the Old Republic. The four of them just left aboard Father's seaskimmer."
It should not be hard for the Rebels to deduce that the "historians" are in fact ISB agents. Characters with macrobinoculars can look out over the bay and see the Admiral's seaskimmer, heading right for the starport.
Episode Three: Seaskimmer Chase
There is no way the characters can get back to the starport before the ISB agents — unless they try to chase down the seaskimmer. Preela Dorat can allow the group use her skimmer, but insists on coming along to make sure her father is all right.
Seaskimmer
Craft: Jerritech Squall Mark IV
Type: Seaskimmer
Scale: Speeder
Length: 7 meters
Skill: Watercraft operation: seaskimmer
Crew: 1
Crew Skill: Watercraft operation 3D
Passengers: 6
Cargo Capacity: 1 metric ton
Cover: 1/2
Cost: 15,000 credits
Maneuverability: 2D+1
Move: 55; 160 kmh
Body Strength: 1D+1
Seaskimmers are light, fast watercraft, used chiefly for recreation on worlds with large oceans. A seaskimmer is a small, jet-propelled hydrofoil. Skimmers are seldom armed, though sportsmen occasionally install a harpoon gun for hunting big sea creatures.
The Chase Begins
The Admiral's skimmer has a head start of about two kilometers when the characters begin pursuit. The ISB agents are inexperienced at skimmer piloting, so they are initially travelling at only half speed. Only after the characters' skimmer gets within a kilometer do they notice they are being followed, and go to full speed.
It is a clear day, with lovely weather for boating. Consequently skimmers, fishing boats, and jetboarders crowd the bay. The combination of light surf and crowded waters makes the bay Moderate terrain.
Three Imperial Security Bureau Agents
DEXTERITY 2D+2
Blaster 4D+2, dodge 4D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Languages 3D, streetwise 3D
MECHANICAL 2D+2
PERCEPTION 3D+1
Con 4D, sneak 4D
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 2D
Security 3D+2
Move: 10
Equipment: Hold-out blaster (3D), blaster pistol (4D), comlink
The ISB agents start shooting as soon as the characters are within range. They are armed with blaster pistols, and have hold-out blasters concealed in their clothing. The agents do not shoot at Preela. One agent must pilot the skimmer while the other two fire at the Rebels.
Admiral Dorat is in restraining bands aboard his seaskimmer, and can do little to help. If the agents get lucky and seem to be winning the battle, the admiral might be able to distract one of them by kicking or tripping him.
Jerritek "Squall" Seaskimmer
Seaskimmer Low-Speed (Side View)
Water Level
Seaskimmer Full-Speed (Side View)
Seaskimmer Full-Speed (Frontal View)
Preela's Loyalty
After an exciting sea chase and gun battle, the Rebels should be able to defeat the ISB agents. While Preela watches the prisoners, the Rebels can free Admiral Dorat and explain that they are here to take him to safety. Just then they are interrupted.
"I can't let you do that," Preela says, pointing her blaster at the characters. "The Emperor would be displeased." Any ISB agents left draw their hold-out blasters, and the fight is on again. Preela and the other agents try to fight the Rebels and kill or recapture the Admiral.
Episode Four: Unexpected Assistance
If the characters can defeat Preela and the Imperial Security Bureau agents, they must still escape from Jerrilek to the Rebels' base. At this point Admiral Dorat is very intent on joining the Rebel Alliance. The starport has a small boat dock, so the group can land the seaskimmer and proceed directly to their ship. The ISB men arrived in the sleek light cruiser the characters noticed earlier at the starport. The Rebels must get to their ship and take off before any remaining ISB agents can signal their ship to stop the Rebels from escaping.
The light cruiser's crew discovers the characters when they blast out of the starport. The ship immediately lifts off and begins chasing the characters' ship.
Preela Dorat
Type: Spoiled Imperial Aristocrat
DEXTERITY 3D+1
Blaster 4D+1
KNOWLEDGE 3D+1
Bureaucracy 4D, intimidation 4D+1, languages 3D+2
MECHANICAL 3D+1
Beast riding 3D+2, watercraft operation: seaskimmer 4D+1
PERCEPTION 4D
Con 5D, gambling 5D+1, persuasion 5D
STRENGTH 2D
Swimming 3D+1
TECHNICAL 2D
Character Points: 3
Move: 10
Equipment: Sporting blaster pistol (3D+1), macrobinoculars
Preela Dorat is her father's only child — her mother died in a speeder crash when Preela was very young. She was raised by a series of servants and minder droids while her father was constantly away on naval business.
Preela grew up spoiled and cynical. She has decided that the only things worth having are wealth and power. As long as her father was an important man, she was a dutiful daughter. But now that his foolish moral qualms about the Empire are endangering the family's position, Preela has decided to turn him in. She believes this will give her control of the family fortune, and win her greater favor with the Emperor.
Preela is an attractive woman in her thirties. She has dark red hair arranged in an elaborate style. Her clothes are very stylish and expensive. Preela bullies anyone she considers beneath her, but can be quite charming to those more powerful.
Security Cruiser
Craft: Sienar Fleet Systems Warden-class light cruiser
Type: Multipurpose security vessel
Scale: Starfighter
Length: 42 meters
Skill: Space transports: Warden cruiser
Crew: 16, gunners: 1, skeleton: 8/+10
Crew Skill: Starship gunnery 4D, starship piloting 4D, starship shields 4D, sensors 6D
Passengers: 14
Cargo Capacity: 100 metric tons
Consumables: 2 months
Cost: Not available for sale
Hyperdrive Multiplier: x1
Hyperdrive Backup: x10
Nav Computer: Yes
Maneuverability: 2D
Space: 10
Atmosphere: 415; 1,200 kmh
Hull: 5D
Shields: 3D
Sensors:
Passive: 35/1D+1
Scan: 70/2D+1
Search: 140/4D+1
Focus: 4/4D+2
Weapons:
Two Twin Laser Cannons
Fire Arc: Turret
Crew: 1
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 3D
Space Range: 1-3/12/25
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2.5 km
Damage: 6D
The Warden-class security cruiser is a modification of the well-known Guardian-class light cruiser. The ship is designed as a multipurpose ship for the Imperial security services. The engines have been beefed up for greater speed and maneuverability, while the sensors and shields were improved. The weaponry has been scaled down, since the Warden is not intended as a warship. The cargo capacity was cut in half to make room for extra cabins — four double bunk staterooms, as well as a brig to hold up to six prisoners. Security starship crews are generally not as highly trained as Imperial Navy personnel, and try to leave the fighting to the professionals.
Interceptor
There is a small Imperial inter-system patrol craft in orbit, which the ISB orders to intercept the characters' ship until the security cruiser can catch up. The crew does not know anything about the characters' ship, except that the ISB wants it stopped. As Imperial Navy personnel, the crew of the patrol vessel might hesitate to fire on Admiral Dorat, but will not disobey direct orders.
IPV-1 Inter-System Patrol Craft
Scale: Capital
Starship Gunnery: 5D
Starship Piloting: 5D
Maneuverability: 2D+1
Space: 7
Hull: 3D+1
Shields: 3D
Weapons: 4 laser cannons (fire control 2D, damage 4D)
Naturally, there are other Imperial ships in the system that can be called on to help stop the characters from escaping. Most will take several minutes to arrive. If the characters are very skilled at space combat and have a well-armed ship, the gamemaster can throw a few TIE fighters at them just to make the battle challenging.
The Rebel characters should be able to outrun or outfight the two Imperial ships long enough to make the jump to hyperspace and freedom. Admiral Dorat is grateful to the Rebels for saving his life. His daughter's treachery has convinced him that the Empire's evil must be stopped.
Admiral Chel Dorat
Type: Retired Admiral
DEXTERITY 2D
Blaster 3D+1
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Alien species 7D+1, bureaucracy 9D+1, cultures 5D, languages 4D+2, planetary systems 9D+1, tactics 8D, willpower 5D+1
MECHANICAL 4D
Astrogation 8D+1, capital starship piloting 9D, watercraft operation: seaskimmer 4D+1, sensors 6D+2
PERCEPTION 3D
Command 10D+2
STRENGTH 2D
TECHNICAL 3D
Capital starship repair 8D, computer programming/repair 4D
Force Points: 4
Character Points: 4
Move: 10
Chel Dorat was a captain in the Old Republic Navy. His courage and tactical skill were responsible for victories in several battles, and gained him great popularity. He eventually attained the rank of fleet admiral.
The corruption and inefficiency he found at the upper echelons appalled Dorat, but powerful Senators blocked all his efforts to reform the Navy. When Dorat learned of Senator Palpatine's plan to sweep away the corruption of the Republic, he became a supporter of the New Order. After Palpatine proclaimed himself Emperor, Admiral Dorat was rewarded with an appointment to the Imperial General Staff.
But Dorat soon discovered that the Empire was even worse than the decaying Republic it had replaced. Corruption and inefficiency were supplanted by tyranny and oppression. When he tried to speak out against the Empire's crimes, Dorat was threatened. In disgust, he retired, planning to write his memoirs and work for reform.
Admiral Dorat is an elderly man with craggy features. He wears comfortable but elegant-looking clothes. Dorat is accustomed to being obeyed, and tends to order people around.
If the customs vessel and the security cruiser manage to stop the party's ship, the ISB agents transmit a message as their ship closes in. "You've done us a favor, Admiral — once you're dead we can release the story that you were killed by the Rebels. A dead hero is much more useful than a live traitor." But before the cruiser can open fire, it explodes into vapor as a barrage of turbolaser fire obliterates it. A massive Star Destroyer comes into view, then jumps to hyperspace without signalling. The Navy takes care of its own.
Suggestions For Further Adventures
This scenario may suggest a number of possible follow-up adventures. Most intriguing, of course, is the evidence of discontent among Imperial officers. The characters may be called upon to try to make contact with a group of Imperials wishing to defect. Of course, the Empire may be plotting to infiltrate agents into the Rebellion.
Jerrilek can be the scene of a variety of adventures. The luxury centers of the tourism industry can be the setting for espionage and intrigue. Perhaps the seemingly peaceful planet harbors a few Rebel sympathizers. The vast oceans might conceal all manner of interesting things — secret Imperial research centers, smugglers' dens, or wrecked starships holding vital cargoes. Characters may be sent to investigate the ancient underwater ruins of Jerrilek. Perhaps the ruins contain advanced technological devices. Or perhaps the extinct species that inhabited Jerrilek were students of the Force. And are they really extinct?
Finally, if Preela Dorat survives the adventure, she might make a good continuing villain. She might try to lure her father back into the clutches of the Empire, or else seek revenge on the characters.
Wanted by Cracken
Ma'w'shiye
Species: Nikto
Homeworld: Kintan
Height: 1.6 meters
Sex: Male
Age: Unknown
Crimes Against The New Republic: Assassination, treason, murder of New Republic personnel, assault on New Republic personnel, assault with intent to kill, destruction of New Republic property, theft of New Republic property
Reward For Capture: 70,000
Once a valued lieutenant, special forces operative and weapon coordinator for the Alliance, Ma'w'shiye has become a dire threat to New Republic operatives everywhere.
For nearly six years Ma'w'shiye, a Nikto hailing from Kintan, served with valor alongside such notable operatives as Akul Witig and Adazian Liebke. He was a member of the team responsible for defending the Imperial attack on the two remaining Dnalvec militia outposts on Sriluur, trained thousands of Alliance recruits in the usage of blaster rifles and light artillery, and had been many times commended for his meritorious actions against the Empire's oppression.
Yet just before the Rebel victory at Endor, the decorated veteran of countless Rebel missions deserted his squadron members and stole their escape craft while on covert operations near the Core Worlds. His actions resulted in the immediate execution by the Empire of 11 Rebel agents integral to Alliance activities near the Core Worlds. Alliance commanders had no idea what led to Ma'w'shiye's heartless desertion of his friends, but he has since personally made attempts on the lives of New Republic officers Witig, Sitnalta, Tynan, Toxis, Liebke, Nnaksta, Lochner and Tirranna the Wookiee.
Fortunately, the caliber of most of those he has attempted to assassinate has for now allowed his would-be victims to escape death. Other individuals, such as the late Alliance operatives Klepish, Saloor and Candra, as well as nearly six dozen innocent civilians, have not been able to escape from the Nikto's gun sights. That the number of those who have survived is as high is somewhat surprising: Ma'w'shiye was among the best sharpshooters serving the Rebellion. Though some hope a shred of kinship to those he has betrayed prevents him from executing them as his abilities would allow, a New Republic SpecForces team continues its desperate hunt for Ma'w'shiye. Leading the search are Commander Sitnalta, Tirranna the Wookiee, Lieutenant Commanders Toxis, Liebke and Nnaksta, Lieutenants Witig and Lochner, and Intell Agent Tynan. If Ma'w'shiye is to be found, his former companions are capable of tracking him down.
Ma'w'shiye is a muscularly built Nikto male with cold, obsidian-black eyes. His rust-colored skin is covered with white-violet scars from his years of perilous service as a pathfinder in the Alliance Special Forces. The minute horns about his forehead and face typical of his species are nearly completely absent, a result of a speeder bike accident in the rock canyons of Miglar 2.
He also has a visible limp due to his having nearly lost his right leg in an Imperial attack in Corint City's financial district. Ma'w'shiye was forced to make quick use of the primitive glass windows of the Strak Tower's thirty-seventh floor as a means of escape.
Though he no longer sports the loose-fitting jerkin and combat trousers that were trademark while serving in the Rebellion, he continues in colder weather to wear the heavy overcoat given him by Lt. Akul Witig during the Karideph operations. He also wears his old service boots and munition straps, having replaced his special issue ammunition with a more available black market version.
Ma'w'shiye
Type: Pathfinder
DEXTERITY 3D+2
Blaster 6D+2, blaster: blaster rifle 9D+2, blaster artillery 6D, blaster artillery: anti-infantry 6D+2, brawling parry 4D+2, dodge 4D+2, melee combat 4D+2, melee combat: force pike 5D+2, melee parry 4D+2, vehicle blasters 6D+2, vehicle blasters: heavy blaster cannon 7D
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Alien species 4D, languages 3D+1, munitions 8D+2, streetwise 5D, streetwise: Sriluur 6D, survival 6D+1, survival: desert 7D+2, survival: urban 7D, value 3D+1, value: blasters 5D
MECHANICAL 2D+1
Astrogation 4D, repulsorlift operations 5D+1, repulsorlift operations: Aratech 74-Z speeder bike 5D+2
PERCEPTION 3D+2
Hide 5D+2, search 7D, sneak 6D+2
STRENGTH 3D+1
Brawling 5D+1, climbing 4D+1, stamina 6D
TECHNICAL 2D
Blaster repair 5D+2, blaster repair: BlasTech EE-3 7D, blaster repair: SoroSuub XC24 6D+2, demolition 3D, first aid 5D+1
SPECIAL ABILITIES:
Vision: As a Nikto, Ma'w'shiye has a natural eye-shielding of a transparent keratin-like substance. He suffers no adverse effects from sandstorms or similar conditions nor does his vision blur under water.
Force Points: 2
Character Points: 16
Move: 10
Equipment: Heavy blaster pistol (5D), force pike (STR+2D+1), heavy blaster rifle with Tru-Vu 4 Scope (6D+1, +1D to blaster rifle skill), rations, Alliance-issue utility belt.
Sidebar: Addendum/Personal
Nothing disturbs me greater than to see one of the Alliance's best go against his own comrades. Lt. Ma'w'shiye's betrayal at Sanjin cost us more lives and equipment than any other operation its size, and his attempts on his former partners are disgusting.
Though I am thankful he has not chosen to take sides with the Empire, he must be brought to justice: if not for the safety of all those he endangers, then at least so that I may strip from him the lieutenant's insignia, Trand Medallion and Platinum Valor Cross I personally pinned upon his lapel.
General Airen Cracken
Type: NPC
DEXTERITY 3D+1
Blaster combat, dodge, melee parry
KNOWLEDGE 4D+2
Alien species, bureaucracy, languages (multiple), strategy
MECHANICAL 3D+2
Repulsorlift operation, starship gunnery, starship piloting
PERCEPTION 3D+1
Command, con, hide, search
STRENGTH 2D+1
Climbing/jumping, stamina
TECHNICAL 4D+1
Astrogation, computer programming/repair, security
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (3D), comlink, datapad
A Rebel agent working undercover is always aware of the inherent danger, but the danger of the mercenary Nakaron, a regular employee of Glorga the Hutt, is something one neither expects nor can often prepare for.
Nakaron is a Trandoshan mercenary expelled even by his own warlike species for his obdurate heart and cruel tendencies. While such traits made him incompatible within the ranks of his people, his temper and lethal methods made him a highly regarded prospect for several crime lords.
Nakaron had for some time been a mercenary and assassin-for-hire. Muscular, intelligent and a quick shot, he soon became so sure of himself he disregarded the class system that has held Trandoshan society together for millennia. In his conceit he became so disrespectful toward not only his elders but his own liege, he was cast from his homecity Forak and warned to never return. Several other cities likewise issued such edicts, baring Nakaron from entry.
Without a people or a planet, Nakaron took to the stars. While in the Hollastin system he had the opportunity to meet Glorga the Hutt and several of the crime lord's lieutenants, including Lanish Ran. Ran, an Alliance agent originally under Colonel Dessin's command, had for some time served in downtown Forak, posing as an Imperial technician at the repair center on Banir Avenue. Unfortunately for Ran, Nakaron had on more than one occasion visited the repair facilities when checking on bounties in the vicinity.
And thus began a game of jran and wentoc that would continue for nearly two months. Ran tried to prove his absolute fealty to the great Glorga, knowing any waver in his performance would give Nakaron cause to reveal him as a Rebel. Nakaron, though, believed Ran to be an Imperial agent planted in the Hutt's court rather than the Rebel he was.
During the recently staged Second Hollastin Insurrection, Nakaron thought his suspicions confirmed. While Hollast Seven's capital city was under siege by the native guerrillas, a group of smugglers attempted to take advantage of the chaos and overthrow Glorga. Upon entering the Hutt's courtroom with blasters drawn, the smugglers downed two of the Hutt's Gamorrean guards and the Esoomian Tirsan. The Bith band was mowed down in a barrage of blaster fire, and most of the patrons of Glorga's court fled for their lives.
Ran, however, was not so easily defeated. Even as Nakaron brought down two of the smugglers in a brief melee, the undercover Rebel took on the other eight. When the dust finally settled, Glorga was safe, Ran heralded as a hero within the syndicate, and Nakaron sure of Ran's former Imperial activity. How else could the Human have learned such combat skills had he not been the product of military training? Nakaron was correct in his belief Ran had received military combat training, but he was greatly mistaken to believe that Ran was an Imperial.
The following week while Agent Ran was performing errands for Glorga, Nakaron approached the Hutt with his theory. Nakaron was summarily cast out and warned that should Nakaron ever show his face in the Hollastin system again, said face would find itself among Glorga's hunting trophies. In a fit of rage, Nakaron drew his blaster and killed the bloated gangster at point blank range.
He escaped the Hutt's palace and boarded his speeder for the Spilgan complex, where he soon found Ran collecting on some of the port merchants Glorga "protected." During a vicious battle — 45 minutes of blaster fire, three floors of pursuit and nearly two dozen murdered bystanders — Nakaron killed Agent Ran.
What Nakaron did not know was that another of Glorga's lieutenants, Alliance Agent Thom Clessigan, had witnessed the scene and managed to arrest Nakaron within five minutes of Agent Ran's defeat.
While en route to the Republic detention facility on Dles IV, Nakaron managed to hijack the Republic shuttle Protector and take both Agent Clessigan and crew hostage. The demands made by Nakaron for the release of the Protector's crew have only recently been issued, more than three months after the hostages were taken, and this very moment an independent strike team is being assembled to deal with the situation.
Nakaron is ugly, even to the kindest Trandoshan eye. His yellow-green complexion comes from his exposure to the sand storms of Varic, and the dry heat of Lorpfan deserts has caused his skin to appear broken and unhealthy. Rather, he is a healthy, strong and agile young male who is at his physical prime ... and knows it.
Despite his somewhat violent past, he does not sport the telltale scars so often found on those with his experience. His one noticeable scar is the mangled tissue on the occipital area of his cranium, the result of a landspeeder accident.
Nakaron
Type: Trandoshan Enforcer
DEXTERITY 3D+2
Blaster 6D, brawling parry 6D+2, dodge 4D+2, melee combat 5D+2, melee combat: Thar'kor 7D+2, melee parry 4D
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Streetwise 5D
MECHANICAL 2D+2
Repulsorlift operations 3D+2, repulsorlift operations: SoroSuub XP-38 5D+2
PERCEPTION 3D
Hide 4D, search 6D, sneak 3D+2
STRENGTH 4D+1
Brawling 8D+1, climbing/jumping:
climbing 6D+2, climbing/jumping: jumping 4D+2, lifting 5D, stamina 6D+1, swimming 7D+1
TECHNICAL 2D+1
Blaster Repair 3D+1, demolition 4D+1, security 5D+1
Special Abilities: Vision: Trandoshan vision is in a different portion of the electromagnetic spectrum, allowing them to see in infrared. They can see in darkness with no penalty. Clumsy: Trandoshans lack manual dexterity. They have considerable trouble performing actions requiring precise finger movement, such as picking locks or picking pockets. They suffer a -2D penalty whenever attempting an action of this type.
Force Points: 1
Dark Side Points: 3
Character Points: 12
Move: 10
Equipment: Ammo strap, blaster rifle (5D), headset comlink, macrobinoculars, Thar'kor blade (STR+2D+2)
ADDENDUM/PERSONAL
CRACKEN, AIREN/GENERAL.
Nakaron's killing of Agent Ran, stealing of the Protector and kidnapping of both her crew and Agent Clessigan is an outrage. Such events are rare within our ranks, but when they do occur, it is comforting to know there exist a handful of teams, such as the one I have assigned to this case, to deal with them.
Benald Orlan
Species: Human
Homeworld: Quian
Height: 1.72 meters
Sex: Male
Age: 27
Crimes Against the New Republic: Treason, espionage, accessory to murder of Alliance/New Republic personnel, accessory to theft of Alliance/New Republic property, accessory to destruction of Alliance/New Republic property
Reward For Capture: 55,000
The son of New Republic Admiral Karin Orlan, Benald Orlan is a headstrong and remarkably intelligent young Human who could have become virtually anything he aspired to — instead he sold out his family to the Empire during the height of the Galactic Civil War. Once an honors student at the Imperial University of Marngar III (Thene Campus), Benald became a lowly clerk in the Galaxy Tours booking department and is now a fugitive hunted by the New Republic.
Like his parents, Benald developed a love for the political sciences at an early age, but his love lay with the policies of the Empire rather than the Old Republic. This difference of opinion was constantly a source of political debate over the dinner table, but never an issue over which arguments arose — or so his parents thought.
When Benald had just been accepted to the University on Marngar III, his mother defected to the Alliance. His father, also an Alliance sympathizer, stayed behind to watch over Benald's younger siblings. Little did his parents know that Benald had long ago informed the local Imperial authorities about what he viewed as his parents' traitorous actions.
Imperial Intelligence had the Orlan household tapped and monitored, and several conversations Karin Orlan had with her husband revealed the locations of many Alliance outposts, agent identities and operation schedules. The day Karin was promoted to lieutenant, Imperial troops raided the Orlan household on Quian and executed Benald's father and siblings. In the weeks to follow three Alliance outposts were attacked, five Alliance agents were revealed and two contraband shipments intercepted. It wasn't until a few months ago Admiral Orlan learned it was her son who had been responsible for these tragedies, and so informed New Republic High Command. Generals Madine and Cracken issued a bounty for his capture.
Like both his parents and other Quians, Benald Orlan has light brown hair, aqua-green eyes and extremely dark skin. He seldom exercises, but manages to maintain his slender build. As a result, he looks extravagant in the clothes he has been able to purchase as a result of his large payment from the Empire.
Admiral Orlan is one of the finest fleet officers serving within New Republic ranks, but her son Benald is a traitor not only to the cause of freedom but to his family. While his mother serves as commander of the New Republic frigate Resolve, I hope we can soon gather a team to locate her son and bring him to justice. Though to my knowledge he has never received any military training, he is highly intelligent and should thus be approached with caution.
Benald Orlan
Type: University Student
DEXTERITY 2D
Blaster 2D+2, dodge 3D
KNOWLEDGE 4D+1
Alien species 5D+1, bureaucracy 6D+1, cultures 5D+1, history 6D+1, history: Imperial public policy 8D+1, history: Old Republic policy 7D+1, languages 4D+2, planetary systems 5D
MECHANICAL 2D
Astrogation 3D
PERCEPTION 3D+2
Investigation 4D+2, investigation: historical documents 7D+2, persuasion 4D+2, search 4D
STRENGTH 2D+1
Stamina 3D+1
TECHNICAL 3D+2
Computer programming/repair 5D, security 4D+2
Dark Side Points: 1
Character Points: 9
Move: 10
Equipment: Datapad, blaster pistol (4D)
Ral Shawgrim
Species: Human
Homeworld: Zalso
Height: 1.56 meters
Age: 23
Crimes Against the New Republic: Treason, espionage, theft of Alliance/New Republic property
Reward For Capture: 35,000
Shortly after the Battle of Hoth, Alliance technician Ral Shawgrim fled the Calamari Shipyards for the Empire, with near-complete datafiles on the Incom T-65B X-wing starfighter. Shawgrim had duplicated the plans while serving as a starfighter repair coordinator, and when he had compiled as close to complete prints as he could, he attempted to defect to the Sienar headquarters on Lianna. Fortunately for the Alliance, a perceptive astromech droid, R2-X9, was working in the Docking Facility 7K when an unauthorized shuttle blasted out of the hangar. R2-X9 alerted the Shipyard Security Corps office at 7K, and a group of Rebel operatives headed by Lieutenant Colonel Essex Yerac soon succeeded in foiling Shawgrim's plans. Though the plans duplicated of the X-wing specifications were retrieved, Shawgrim managed to elude capture.
Alliance Intelligence originally believed Shawgrim to be an agent of the Empire, but Imperial communiques recently captured in the Tragan Sector indicate he is being hunted by the Empire as well for his failure to deliver the technical data. Moff Brinkan of Tragan Sector had put a bounty on Shawgrim's head, and, according to the most recent New Republic Intelligence reports, no less than three bounty hunters have been actively pursuing Shawgrim for nearly four years. The New Republic has also issued a bounty on the traitor, but the pursuit for Shawgrim is for the most part being conducted in territory still controlled by the diminishing Empire.
Shawgrim was born aboard the luxury liner Panorama while his parents were enjoying a vacation in the Tion Hegemony. As is often the case, it was the brutal killing of his parents by Imperial troops that prompted a teenage Ral to locate the Rebel cell on Zalso, the planet where his parents were employed during the cor'tan season. After being accepted into the ranks of the Rebellion and proving himself a capable starship technician, Shawgrim served valiantly for nearly two years. He was twice hospitalized during the Jendar Campaign, and for his valor was awarded the Usor Cluster. He quickly earned the rank of lieutenant and soon thereafter was offered the opportunity to serve at the Calamari Shipyards.
It was there he began the traitorous activities for which he is now being hunted by both the New Republic and Empire.
Ral Shawgrim is a shorter Human male who is in his early twenties yet still appears as though he is a teenager. Though he still owns his old tech coveralls from his days in the Alliance, he now sports civilian's clothing, attempting to avoid the view of all from whom he is hiding. He has sandy-colored hair and a dark complexion, but tends to wear hats to further hide his identity. Despite his fugitive status, he still walks with an air of confidence.
Sidebar: Addendum/Personal
CRACKEN, AIREN/GENERAL.
I always find it disheartening when a young man such as Lt. Shawgrim decides to join the very forces responsible for the destruction of his family. Though he has been on the run from both our own forces and the remnants of the Empire for quite some time now, I would nonetheless very much like to see him brought to justice. His attempt to deliver the closely-guarded X-wing technology to Sienar Fleet Systems could have proved disastrous for the Alliance had it not been for Colonel Yerac and his team.
Ral Shawgrim
Type: Technician
DEXTERITY 2D+1
Blaster 3D+1, dodge 4D+1
KNOWLEDGE 4D
Alien species 4D+2, survival 4D+1
MECHANICAL 2D+2
Astrogation 3D+2, capital ship shields 4D+2, sensors 4D+2
PERCEPTION 2D+1
Command 3D+1, hide 6D+2, search 3D+1, sneak 4D+1
STRENGTH 2D+2
Brawling 3D+2, lifting 3D
TECHNICAL 4D
Capital starship repair 6D, capital starship repair: MC80 7D+2, capital starship repair: Nebulon-B 6D+2, droid programming 4D+1, droid programming: astromech droid 5D, droid repair 5D, droid repair: astromech droid 6D, security 5D, starfighter repair 5D, starfighter repair: A-wing 5D+1, starfighter repair: X-wing 6D+2
Force Points: 1
Character Points: 7
Move: 10
Equipment: Alliance technician uniform, starship repair tools, blaster pistol (3D-2)
This issue's Wanted By Cracken was created by C. Robert Carey and illustrated by Robert Duchlinski
About the Authors and Artists
About the Authors
James Cambias is a freelance writer and game designer who lives in North Carolina. He is the author of the forthcoming game supplement Arabian Nights from Iron Crown Enterprises. In addition to roleplaying games, he also writes non-fiction about history and aviation.
C. Robert Carey is an undergraduate at the University of California at Santa Barbara majoring in history. He contributed to Cracken's Rebel Operatives and is also gamemaster of the Gotham Highlanders campaign, a position which has made him a prime target of five very persecuted player characters.
Stephen Crane, West End Games' Art Director, also likes to dabble in game design, having co-authored the award-winning Star Wars Miniatures Battles and written its follow-up, the Star Wars Miniatures Battles Companion, as well as other products. In his spare time he mucks about with paints and figures, and owns way too much lead to be safely supported by a noncommercial structure.
Larry Granato is a 36-year-old computer programmer from Denver who has been involved with roleplaying-type games since 1974. Besides trying out some freelance writing, he is spending much of his time with his three-year-old son, Jared.
Patricia A. Jackson is an administrative assistant at Jackson Elementary School in Pennsylvania, where she occasionally works with Thaddeus Ross' real-life alter ego, Todd Ross of the York City Police Department. When not exploring the Star Wars universe, she rides and trains show horses. Current prospect, Niko, now has an Orneriness stat of 11D!
Stephen Luminati, a lieutenant in the United States Air Force, is currently assigned to the Air Force Pentagon Communications Agency in Arlington, Virginia. Originally from Ridgefield, Connecticut, he graduated from Lafayette College with a bachelors degree in computer science. When not troubleshooting computer systems he enjoys hosting a radio show, designing games, playing roleplaying games, and running long distance.
Shadows of Darkness is Charlene Newcomb's fourth story for the Star Wars Adventure Journal. The mother of three, she is a graduate student at the University of South Florida in Tampa studying library and information science, and occasionally works part-time on special projects in the Rollins College library. In her spare time she reads Tom Clancy novels.
Timothy S. O'Brien is a dialysis equipment technician in Olympia, Washington. Besides playing the Star Wars roleplaying game, he enjoys collecting comic books, studying military and other history, and playing wargames, including Star Wars Miniatures Battles.
Ilene Rosenberg is a student at New York University studying for her masters degree in journalism. She is a graduate of Brandeis University and is spending her free time helping to promote They Might Be Giants.
This is Anthony P. Russo's third appearance in the Star Wars Adventure Journal. He is extremely pleased with the Journal's overall design and the quality of the writing and the art between the Journal's covers. During lulls between gaming sessions, he continues to work on a full-length novel and developing more material for the Star Wars Roleplaying Game.
Bill Smith is an editor and designer at West End Games and has entirely too much fun working on Star Wars. He is the designer of Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game, Second Edition. He also has an intense passion for stock car racing and Rush (the band, not the talk-show host).
Chuck Sperati is a graduate of Youngstown State University and hopes to be a professional writer in the future. Among his hobbies are comic book collecting, anything relating to Star Wars, and other roleplaying games.
Paul Sudlow is a native of Floridaan II. He studied cross-cultural communications at the University of Meridiana on Tenna Ce, and received a journeyman's degree in trade economics at the University of Camalar on Esseles. He is currently a Fellow at the Teikoku Institute of Information Exchange on Brentaal, where he studies the continuing evolution of the NewsNets at the Empire's expense.
Kathy Tyers is the author of The Truce at Bakura, her New York Times best-selling Star Wars novel, as well as four other science fiction novels published under the Bantam Spectra line. New projects include one story each for upcoming Star Wars short story anthologies, as well as another science fiction novel, One Mind's Eye. She is a flutist and Irish harper, teaches several flute students, and has made two recordings of folk music. She lives in Bozeman, Montana, with her husband and a 13-year-old son.
About the Artists
Kathy Burdette is a recent graduate of Connecticut College who isn't exactly sure what she's going to do with the rest of her life. Right now she is happy to be immersing one side of her brain in the Star Wars universe while the other side is busy worrying about the future.
Robert Duchlinski resides in South Amboy, New Jersey, and is a recent graduate of duCret School of Art and Design. Besides illustrating, he enjoys escaping into the Star Wars and TSR Realms through the various roleplaying games and novels. His ultimate career goal is to become a special effects artist for George Lucas' Industrial Light and Magic.
Chris Gossett is an illustrator who was born in New York City and is currently living on the west coast. He is now working for Dark Horse Comics on their upcoming epic comic series Dark Lords of the Sith, a sequel to Tales of the Jedi, to which Chris also contributed. Chris has been drawing images of the Star Wars galaxy long before he was ever getting paid for it.
Pablo Hidalgo is a beginning freelance artist from Winnipeg, Manitoba, who specializes in illustration and animation. He is a member of the Manitoba Society of Independent Animators, and co-instructs animation courses for young people. He has a disturbing amount of Star Wars trivia kicking around in his head, and does a mean Lobot impersonation.
Pieced together from choice parts of specially selected cadavers, John Paul Lona is currently a graphic artist for the Paper Magic Group. There he produces artwork for various licensed products for Warner Brothers, Marvel Comics and Disney. John lives in northeastern Pennsylvania with his wife and son living on chicken and JIF peanut butter.
Allen Nunis' work has appeared in the gaming, comic book and trading card industries. He created original art for West End Games' Star Wars: The Roleplaying Game, and has worked for Dark Horse Comics' Classic Star Wars series and Topps' Cadillacs and Dinosaurs comics. Allen also illustrated a card for Topps' original Star Wars Galaxy trading card series.
Eric K. Olson is a freelance artist from Wisconsin who has done illustrations for Dragon Magazine and Shadis Magazine. He has a two year associate's degree in commercial art from Western Wisconsin Technical College, and also pursues sculpting and creating computer illustrations.
A native Oregonian, Dan Schaefer began his career as an apprentice to such luminary cartoonists as Chris Warner and Karl Kesel on such projects as Worlds Finest for DC Comics and Predator for Dark Horse Comics. Dan has now worked for every major company, including Marvel, DC, Dark Horse, and Disney as an inker, and a two-season stint for the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles and James Bond Jr. television shows. Dan recently finished the (Nexus tie-in) mini-series Hammer of God from Dark Horse and Hardcase for Malibu.
Doug Shuler has been a freelance artist for seven years and has done work for many prominent game companies, including GDW, Steve Jackson Games, ICE, White Wolf, FASA, and West End Games. His illustrations continue to appear on new cards for Magic: The Gathering and Jyhad by Wizards of the Coast. A Star Wars fanatic, he lives in Boulder, Colorado, with his wife Jordi, their infant daughter, Brianna, and five maniac cats.
Mike Vilardi works at a microelectronics plant in Rhode Island and freelances art for the gaming industry in his spare time. "I like the creation of the newer alien species," he said. "Star Wars tends to be pretty free and open to allow new aliens to be used in the game." He initially had to get used to drawing Star Wars art for West End Games: "It's so strange getting paid for things I used to do in my teens just for fun," he said.
Starter's Tale
by Peter Schweighofer
Illustrations by John Paul Lona with Allen Nunis
The group of friends crept back through the streets of Wroona starport to the docking pit where Platt's freighter, the Last Chance, was moored next to Tru'eb's Luudrian Star. Everyone boarded the Last Chance and made themselves comfortable in the crew lounge.
Dirk Harkness and Jai Raventhorn dropped themselves onto a musty old Wroonian divan, while Tru'eb took his time settling himself and his robes into the nashtah-skin throne Platt had won in a twisted sabacc game. Starter went straight for Platt's carved beverage box and began rummaging through it. He pulled out a few glasses, then poured generous amounts of Gruvian Tovash into each one.
Platt grabbed a glass and seated herself in the command chair near the auxiliary engineering station at one end of the cabin. Starter passed the other glasses out, took a sip from his own and leaned against the bulkhead near the bridge hatch. The entire group fell silent as each person took a sip of their drink and stared at the bottom of their glass.
"Say, did I ever tell you guys about the time I made the Kessel run in less than seven parsecs?" Starter said, breaking the contemplative silence.
Platt looked at him with one eyebrow raised. "Really? Solo only claimed he did it in less than 12. At least that was somewhat believable ..."
"No, really," Starter pleaded over everyone's chuckles, "I did make the Kessel run in under seven parsecs. Sure, I blew out my hyperdrive, but it was worth it. You see, I had just bought these stolen secret plans from Jabba the Hutt..."
"Let me guess, these were the plans to the second Death Star, right?" Jai chided. "This isn't going to be another story about how you single-handedly took out a Star Destroyer, is it?"
"Hopefully it shall be told a bit more eloquently than his first tale," Tru'eb said. "Although I'll be the first to admit eloquence is not one of Starter's more polished qualities."
"Hey, this is a great story," Starter pleaded. "Much better than the Star Destroyer one..."
The lone X-wing fighter dropped out of hyperspace and veered toward the large gas giant in the Anoat system. Starter tried to keep his course steady, but his hyperdrive was probably falling out the back of the starfighter by now. Flying through hyperspace too close to strong gravitational shadows had practically ripped the hyperdrive out earlier — now it was completely useless.
Starter pulled a datapad from behind the cockpit and scanned through it again. The information he downloaded from Jabba's illegal computer hookups would be invaluable to the Rebel Alliance. Nobody would believe him if he didn't have proof of the Empire's plans. If only he could get the datapad to the Rebel base on Renforra before the Empire knew he had it and unleashed the bounty hunters — or before Jabba figured out the four cases of ryll he paid for the information was really dried blue sand from the ocean beds of Wroona ...
Starter's X-wing tore through the gas giant's upper atmosphere and was soon ripping through the clouds. His astrogation droid called it Bespin, but he wasn't going to trust that little bucket of junk after that last hyperspace jump. There was supposedly a mining settlement somewhere on this planet ...
A voice crackled over his ship's comm channel. "Unidentified craft, hold your current course and transmit identification codes." Starter looked to starboard and tracked the twin pod cloud car following alongside him.
"This is Captain Stitar of the Seeker Cub — my scout ship's been hit pretty bad, needs repairs." Starter looked back at the cloud car crew for some indication of whether they were going for his story. "I cut my last hyperspace jump a bit too close and fried my hyperdrive. Could I get some clearance to land for repairs?"
He noticed the cloud car pilot glance over the X-wing. Hopefully he didn't know a beat-up modified X-wing with the S-foils closed from a patchwork scout ship. Starter was getting itchy — if this whole encounter blew up into a dogfight, he'd be stuck in the system with nowhere to turn to for repairs.
"Seeker Cub," the voice crackled over the comm channel. "You're cleared to land on docking pad 142. A repair crew will be sent to your landing site soon after you set down." The cloud car veered off and continued its patrol.
An immense city floated above the clouds ahead. Starter veered his X-wing toward it and scanned for the beacon marking docking pad 142. When he locked on the beacon, he cruised in and set his starfighter gently onto the docking pad.
Nobody was to be seen, not even the technicians Starter expected would show up soon to work on his X-wing's hyperdrive. He jumped out of the cockpit, datapad in hand, and ambled out to the X-wing's sensor access panel. He'd feel safer if the datapad with the secret information were hidden somewhere on the ship rather than on his person. If something happened to him in Cloud City, at least the information would be relatively safe with the ship. Popping the panel open with a well-placed punch, he began rummaging through the sensors' innards, trying to find a place to hide the datapad.
Behind him he heard the blast door to the city open up. Must be the technicians, he thought. But when he turned around, he found himself facing the most deadly bounty hunters in the galaxy —
Zuckuss, Boddu Bocck, Dengar, Beylyssa, 4-LOM, Zardra, and Bossk. No doubt the Empire had sent them to capture Starter and retrieve the stolen data ...
"You have got to be kidding!" Platt said, sitting up in her seat. "There's no way you could have escaped alive from all those hunters."
"It does not seem likely nor probable that your sharp tongue would have saved you," Tru'eb added. "Although it could be likely you might have bored them to death with a similarly unbelievable story."
"Hey, I explain everything — just listen to the story," Starter pleaded, pouring himself another drink.
"This tale seems to get longer and more outrageous the more Gruvian Tovash you pour down your throat," Jai snapped. "Save some for us."
Dirk sat slumped beside her, snoring.
"Hey, someone wake Harkness up, I'm just getting to the part he'll like," Starter said.
"Which part's that?" Platt asked. "The part where you get pummeled by those bounty hunters?"
"Okay, you don't believe me?" Starter challenged. "Just remember I was cornered on a docking pad high above Cloud City. Those things don't have safety railings, you know ..."
Starter backed up against the fuselage of his X-wing, his hand slowly easing toward his heavy blaster pistol.
"Look, I'm not afraid of you," he spat. "I could ace you all from here if I wanted to."
The bounty hunters kept advancing along the causeway out to the docking pad.
Starter had enough. He pulled his blaster and brought it up, taking aim at Dengar, the lead hunter. But before he could even squeeze off a shot, a metal rod sliced right through the blaster above the trigger, knocking the gun from Starter's hand. He looked up to see Boddu Bocck smiling to himself as he lowered his custom-built powered hunting crossbow.
"What do you expect me to do, give up?" Starter sneered.
"No," Dengar growled. "We expect to kill you. A lot."
Beads of sweat began to form on Starter's brow. The bounty hunters were coming closer. His mind raced through every con, every scam he had ever run, trying to think of one which could get him out of this mess. Then the idea came to him. He reached for his blaster belt, to the loop where he kept his rations case — a fist-sized square case where he stored food and liquid to get him through long hyperspace trips in the X-wing.
"You're really going to get it this time," Beylyssa sneered.
Bossk just growled.
"We're going to tear you limb from limb," Zardra said. "And you know I'll be smiling all the way."
"Target acquired," IG-88 droned. "Prepare to terminate."
Boddru Bocck fit another bolt into his crossbow. "Time to die."
In one swift motion Starter snatched the rations case from his belt and held it menacingly out toward the advancing bounty hunters. "Not while I'm holding this photon detonator!"
The bounty hunters stopped only meters from where Starter was standing.
Beylyssa turned to 4-LOM. "He's joking," she said. "There's no such weapon as a photon detonator."
"Are you going to wait and find out?" Starter called. And with that, he tossed his rations case directly into the middle of the clustered bounty hunters. Most scattered for cover, their minds focused on the "photon detonator," while Starter leapt forward and grappled 4-LOM.
Starter knocked the droid off balance and gave him a flying kick to the head. 4-LOM's head flew off, and his body followed, tottering off the edge of the docking pad and falling into Cloud City.
Starter heard Beylyssa coming up behind him — he spun around, bashed his elbow into her helmet, then activated the thermal detonator she kept on her ammo belt. He tossed her back into the crowd of bounty hunters, hoping she'd explode far enough away.
"We've got you," Boddu Bocck sneered. He was on one side, his deadly crossbow leveled at Starter's chest. On Starter's other side stood Zardra, also brandishing a particularly nasty looking blaster weapon. "Now you're mine," Bocck said.
Starter dropped to the docking pad as Bocck let loose his cross-bow bolt and Zardra fired her blaster. The two bounty hunters dropped to the deck, dead.
Starter lunged at Zuckuss, bashing him in the head and kicking him off the docking platform. Bossk grabbed Starter from behind, pinning his arms to his sides and picking him up. Starter shifted his weight forward until his feet were back on the platform, then flipped the heavy Trandoshan over his head to follow Zuckuss screaming into the Cloud City wind.
Dengar was trying unsuccessfully to disarm Beylyssa's ticking thermal detonator. Starter dove for cover just as it exploded.
He picked himself up off the deck and brushed himself off as the dust was subsiding. So much for the bounty hunters, he thought. Then a huge form came stumbling out of the smoke, screaming "Terminate! Terminate!" IG-88 was headed right for him.
Starter dodged out of the way and allowed the huge assassin droid to slam into the X-wing's hull. He grabbed the droid's torso and flung him into the X-wing a few more times until IG-88's head was hanging limply from his neck. "So long, metal breath," Starter said as he pushed the droid gently off the docking platform.
He seemed so satisfied with himself, watching IG-88 fall to his doom, that he didn't hear Boba Fett shut off his jet pack before he set down behind Starter. This is too easy, Fett thought to himself as he knocked Starter over the head...
Darth Vader knelt before the hologram of Emperor Palpatine. Fett had brought the Rebel pilot to the Executor and collected his bounty, but Vader's agents were having a difficult time breaking the feisty Rebel.
"Has he revealed the location of the stolen plans, my friend?" the Emperor wheezed.
"No, master, we are attempting to break his resolve, but to no avail."
"Then perhaps you must use more convincing methods," the Emperor suggested. "Interrogate this Rebel yourself. Certainly he cannot resist the power of the dark side of the Force. And if he will not reveal the location of the plans to you, then you will bring him before me."
"Yes, master." Vader rose as the Emperor's image faded. He stalked back to his meditation capsule, contemplating ways he could manipulate the Rebel into revealing the location of the data he had stolen.
The door to Vader's chamber opened and Admiral Ozzel entered. "Lord Vader," he stated. "We have tried to break the Rebel using conventional methods, but we've already gone through five interrogation droids. The technicians said they were disabled by something called sensory overload..."
"Has he revealed anything of use?" Vader asked.
"No, my lord. He's talked continuously through each interrogation session, but most of it is complete and unbelievable nonsense. No doubt this irrational babble is responsible for disabling the interrogator droids..."
"This Rebel seems unaffected by your technological monstrosities, Admiral. Let's see how he stands up to the power of the dark side of the Force. Bring him to me at once."
"It seems obvious that your story has completely divorced itself from any semblance of reality," Tru'eb stated. "Did you plan this sequence of unlikely events, or are you making this up as you go along?"
"It's true," Starter pleaded. "Look, I had just stolen secret Imperial data."
"If it was so important, then what was contained in the data you stole?" Platt challenged.
"Uh, I really didn't have a chance to check it thoroughly..."
"You mean you didn't ask your good friends Vader and the Emperor to fill you in?"
"Perhaps you shouldn't have killed all those bounty hunters," Tru'eb suggested. "They could have helped you decode the data."
"It's all true," Starter whined.
Harkness snored. Jai was also fast asleep, her head leaning against Dirk's shoulder.
"Well, stang. You might as well finish the story," Platt sneered. "Tru'eb and I are never going to be able to sleep tonight if we don't hear how you escaped from Vader."
The top portion of Darth Vader's meditation chamber rose with an ominous hum as Starter was led into the room. The trooper escorting him stood to one side, staring nervously at his feet. Starter could feel Lord Vader look up and gaze coldly at him.
"What have you done with the stolen data?" Vader asked in a booming bass voice.
"You see, I don't know anything about any stolen secret information," Starter began, motioning with his hands and shrugging his shoulders. "I was just on my way from Dantooine to Alderaan when I forgot that you blew it up and so I had to make a quick detour but you see I fried my hyperdrive so I had to land at Cloud City for repairs and then ..."
"Enough!" Vader shouted. "Now, you will tell me the location of the secret plans you stole."
Starter looked at the trooper next to him — who was probably more frightened than Starter in the dark lord's presence. "I guess I better do what Vader says," he told the trooper. The trooper looked nervously toward Vader — and Starter whacked him aside the head with his fist. Before the guard fell to the deck, Starter grabbed his blaster pistol and spun to point it toward Vader.
Several bursts of energy shot from the blaster, missing Vader completely, but hitting the command console within his meditation chamber. The top half of the chamber lowered quickly and locked Vader inside before the dark lord could even scream out in frustration.
Bursting through the door, Starter blasted a few Imperial officers and troopers on the bridge as he headed for the turbolifts. He shot his way clear of Imperial troops right to one of the main docking bays, where he found a Lambda-class shuttle waiting on standby. After eliminating the stormtrooper guards, Starter dashed up the entry ramp, stunned the pilot, and zoomed out of the docking bay to freedom ...
"And that's how I stole the shuttle Tydirium which they used for the Endor operation," Starter said proudly. "Mon Mothma herself offered to step down to let me lead the Rebel Alliance — but I couldn't part with my X-wings. I had to get back on the line and keep flying."
"Now I've heard just about everything," Platt said. She dragged herself out of the chair and began rummaging through a bulkhead storage container. "I mean, Starter, I could understand if you were captured by Imperials, but being interrogated by Vader himself? And escaping without any help? In the Tydirium? I don't believe a word of it."
"Really, Starter, why would Mon Mothma, a distinguished leader and diplomat, step down to let a braggart pilot like you run the Alliance?" Trueb asked. "And I really can't believe you turning that offer down and returning to fly X-wings. If anyone thinks he knows how to run the Rebel Alliance better than Mon Mothma, I would certainly consider you to be perfectly qualified."
"I can't believe you're not taking my deeply personal battle experiences seriously," Starter said, plopping himself down into Platt's chair. "It all happened just as I told you."
"Shh," Platt whispered, removing a blanket from the bulkhead storage compartment. She drew the blanket up over Jai and Dirk. "They've got the right idea," she said, nodding to the two snoring soundly on the divan. "I think I've heard enough stories for one day."
Roleplaying Game Statistics
Starter (At the time of Starter's Tale)
Type: Brash Pilot
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 6D, brawling parry 4D+2, dodge 5D+2, melee combat 5D, melee parry 4D, running 4D+2
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Alien species 3D, bureaucracy 2D+2, cultures 3D, planetary systems 5D+1, streetwise 4D+2, survival 5D
MECHANICAL 4D
Astrogation 6D, communications 4D+2, repulsorlift operation 5D, sensors 4D+2, space transports 5D, starfighter piloting 7D+2, starship gunnery 6D+1, starship shields 5D
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 4D, command 4D+2, con 6D+2, gambling 5D, persuasion 4D+1, sneak 5D
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 4D+2, climbing/jumping 4D, lifting 3D+2, stamina 4D+1
TECHNICAL 3D
First aid 4D, security 3D+2, space transports repair 5D, starfighter repair 5D+2, starship weapon repair 5D
Force Points: 2
Character Points: 15
Move: 10
Equipment: Heavy blaster pistol (5D), Rebel pilot's uniform
Starter (Three years after the Battle of Endor)
Type: Brash Pilot
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 7D, brawling parry 4D+2, dodge 6D+1, melee combat 5D, melee parry 4D, running 5D+2
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Alien species 3D, bureaucracy 2D+2, cultures 3D, planetary systems 6D, streetwise 6D, survival 5D+2
MECHANICAL 4D
Astrogation 7D, communications 5D, repulsorlift operation 5D+2, sensors 4D+2, space transports 5D, starfighter piloting 9D, starship gunnery 8D, starship shields 6D
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 4D, command 5D+2, con 8D+2, gambling 5D, persuasion 5D, sneak 5D
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 5D, climbing/jumping 4D+2, lifting 3D+2, stamina 4D+1
TECHNICAL 3D
First aid 4D, security 5D, space transports repair 5D, starfighter repair 7D, starship weapon repair 6D
Force Points: 3
Character Points: 18
Move: 10
Equipment: Heavy blaster pistol (5D), Rebel pilot's uniform
Few know Starter's true name or any real facts about his past. However, he has made several outrageous claims about his background — he's said he grew up in Anchorhead on Tatooine as a close friend of Luke Skywalker and Biggs Darklighter. Then again, he's also said he learned about starship piloting from Han Solo himself. These days, few people believe much of anything Starter says.
In reality, Starter was the son of an Imperial admiral. He attended the Imperial Naval academy on Corulag, but was quickly thrown out, labelled as undisciplined, obnoxious and generally loudmouthed. Rather than return home in disgrace, Starter took what he learned about Imperial starfighter tactics and joined the Rebel Alliance as an X-wing pilot.
Starter is an exceptional X-wing pilot, and can be counted on to lend a hand in a heated dogfight or fleet battle. He is fond of recounting past battles and heroic actions in excruciating and often exaggerated detail. A handsome man, he's always trying to impress the ladies — although his charm and storytelling ability are more often used in boring his few friends.
Although he is not an official member of the Black Curs, a rogue mercenary group occasionally helping the New Republic with intelligence and commando work, Starter sometimes teams up with Platt Okeefe, Dirk Harkness, Jai Raventhorn and Tru'eb Cholakk when he's guaranteed a chance to fly some heroic mission in his customized X-wing.
Starter's X-wing Starfighter
Craft: Incom T-65B X-wing
Type: Modified space superiority fighter
Scale: Starfighter
Length: 12.5 meters
Skill: Starfighter piloting: X-wing
Crew: 1 and astromech droid (can coordinate)
Crew Skill: See Starter
Cargo Capacity: 50 kilograms
Consumables: 1 week
Hyperdrive Multiplier: x1
Hyperdrive Backup: None
Nav Computer: None (uses astromech droid)
Maneuverability: 3D
Space: 8
Atmosphere: 365; 1,050 kmh
Hull: 4D
Shields: 1D+2
Sensors:
Passive: 25/0D
Scan: 50/1D
Search: 75/2D
Focus: 3/4D
Weapons:
4 Laser Cannons (fire linked)
Fire Arc: Front
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 3D+2
Space Range: 1-3/12/25
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2.5 km
Damage: 6D
2 Proton Torpedo Launchers
Fire Arc: Front
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 2D+2
Space Range: 1/3/7
Atmosphere Range: 30-100/300/700 m
Damage: 9D
Cracken's Rebel Field Guide
Scanners
Scanners are devices that detect and assess the characteristics of lifeforms, energy fields and physical objects. They are also known as sensors or detectors. Large sensor systems on starships can examine the surface of worlds from hundreds of kilometers away. Smaller models can be used by Rebel operatives, commandos and scouts to obtain information about their surroundings.
The smaller models of scanners lack the power, flexibility and range of ship-mounted models. Each is designed to perform a specific function and makes measurements in a particular range. Bioscanners are set to detect lifeforms approximating Human sizes — smaller creatures are more difficult to discern, while larger ones are easier. Energy scanners are likewise readily able to sense moderate energy sources and transmissions. A blaster power pack would be difficult to pick up, but a broadcasting comlink wouldn't be.
A hand-held scanner can operate continuously for several days before its energy cells are drained. Larger models have power supplies which last several weeks.
Using Scanners in the Game
It takes one action to use a scanner. Characters use their sensors skill or Mechanical attribute. Some scanners substitute a character's skill or attribute with the scanner's own sensor skill dice. Each scanner has a specified range which limits its effectiveness.
Because of their small size, portable scanners use active emissions in a search mode to gain information from a specific direction. The character employing the scanner must physically rotate it to search in other directions; each scan counts as one action. Usually, there are four directions to search — front, left, right and back — but above and below the scanner count as additional directions if the character wishes to scan them.
Ranges
Some scanners have ranges in meters or kilometers. Each range has a corresponding difficulty which scanner users must successfully roll on their sensors skill to scan an area:
- Short range: Moderate
- Medium range: Difficult
- Long range: Very Difficult
Other scanners function at point blank range only. For these scanners, the better the sensors skill roll, the greater the quality of information gathered. Specific scanner models provide game notes on their effects.
Difficulty Level Modifiers
The difficulty level used with scanners can also vary depending on conditions and what characters are scanning for. Here are some sample difficulty number modifiers for those using scanners:
- +5 to +20 to difficulty: Looking for specific details such as an individual of a certain size and species, a particular ship, or a certain kind of mineral or energy emission.
- +5 to difficulty: Picking out and getting more specific readings on one target out of many targets scanned in the area.
- +10 or more to difficulty: Target's sensor profile is damped, hidden among similar emissions or swamped by a more powerful signal.
- +15 or more to difficulty: Target is shielded.
- +10 or more to sensors roll: Detecting only the presence and general location of the type of objects the scanner is designed for (such as lifeforms, ore deposits, a large energy source).
- +10 to sensors roll: Searching for a major source of emissions (massive lifeforms, radioactive deposits).
- +5 to sensors roll: Scanning a target in a general class (a Human, a lommite deposit, a power reactor).
Sidebar: Addendum/Personal Cracken, Airen/General
Scanners, from hand-held models to capital ships' sensor suites, are the bedrock of our long-range detection capabilities. They can save your life, but be careful how you use them. Imperial installations monitor all common scanner frequencies — they might detect your presence. If that happens, you could be tracked or jammed.
Cryoncorp Lifedetec Bioscanner
The Lifedetec bioscanner is an instrument common to scientists and security forces. The scanner detects the presence of lifeforms and pinpoints their location. This scanner can even determine the species of a lifeform if species templates are loaded into the lifeform indicators. It is about the size of a portable computer, and has a shoulder strap for easy carrying.
Security Scanner
Model: BlasTech Search-Scan 4
Type: Multicapable security scanner
Cost: 9,800 credits
Availability: 2,R (restricted to governments)
Range: 3/7/25
Game Notes: This scanner adds 1D to the sensor skill roll of its operator. It can help detect structural anomalies hiding secret compartments, and can find energy signatures showing weapons, life forms, and energy sources within a confined area, such as a docking bay, cargo hold, or compartment.
The Search-Scan 4 is used by Imperial and local planetary governments for a variety of detection needs. The scanner is the size of a large chest — it is often wheeled around on a cart or repulsor sled and then transported to specific locations by scanner personnel. The chest contains a number of probes and receptors that are attached to the unit by insulated cables. This is a highly sensitive instrument, and can often penetrate some forms of shielding.
Tech Scanner
Model: Drever Corporation's Techaide
Type: Tech scanner
Cost: 2,600
Availability: 2
Game Notes: The difficulty level for using this scanner corresponds to the difficulty needed to repair damaged equipment. A character successfully using a tech scanner gains +1D on repair rolls.
This short-ranged, hand-held device helps technicians check out mechanical systems and helps them assess damage to equipment, including electrical system integrity, hydraulic pressure, energy flux, and structural stresses.
Medscanner
Model: Cryoncorp Mediscan 21
Type: Medscanner
Cost: 3,000
Availability: 2
Game Notes: The difficulty level for using the scanner is the same as that for using a medpac — Easy for Wounded, Moderate for Incapacitated and Difficult for Mortally Wounded characters. Successful use of a medscanner adds 1D to first aid rolls.
Medical personnel in the field make use of medscanners to quickly diagnose diseases and assess injuries. Medpacs contain very basic medscanners. Medscanners are small hand-held units—however, their sensitive instruments are easily damaged when dropped or roughly handled.
Energy Scanner
Model: Fabritech 9000 Energy Scanner
Type: Energy scanner
Cost: 5,600
Availability: 2
Range: 500/1/2 km
Energy scanners are capable of detecting many forms of energy emissions and provide data on type, intensity, effects and origin. This scanner can detect natural and artificial energy from stellar radiation, reactors, generators, passing starships and airspeeders, comlinks and other scanners.
Geological Scanner
Model: Fabritech 7000 Geoscanner
Type: Geoscanner
Cost: 4,800
Availability: 2
Range: 500/1/2 km
Geoscanners are primarily used by miners and prospectors. They can detect geologic characteristics like precious minerals and ore deposits, and underground features. They can also analyze geothermal, seismic, volcanic, and glacial activity.
Blastech Search-Scan 4
Sidebar: Weapons Detector
Model: CORSEC Autoscan Weapons Detector
Type: Stationary weapons detector
Cost: 7,200
Availability: 2, R (restricted to governments)
Game Notes: Has a search of 6D to detect hidden energy weapons. The difficulty level to detect weapons depends on how well someone has hidden the weapon using their hide skill.
The CORSEC automated weapon detector is found in many starports and secure installations throughout the galaxy. Due to its large size, it is deployed in fixed sites near public thoroughfares and transportation centers where security is a concern. Its petal-shaped array tracks individuals and vehicles moving within range and scans them for weapons. If weapons are detected, an alarm is transmitted to security personnel.
This issue's Cracken's Rebel Field Guide was created by Larry Granato.
A Deal Gone Sour
The characters are hired by the Rebel Alliance to quietly go to Tatooine and retrieve an important astromech droid. The droid is currently in the hands of an unidentified third party, who wants 50,000 credits, or else he'll turn it over to the Empire. The Empire has offered this third party 40,000 credits for the droid.
The characters are provided with discreet transportation to the planet, as well as 50,000 credits in a security chest. They have also been supplied with a contact that can lead them to the droid and will provide them with transport back to the Rebel base afterwards.
The characters are to meet their contact in the Mos Eisley cantina. They are told that he is a Sullustan trader named Rai-Kalei — he's seen pictures of the characters and they are given his.
The adventure begins just after the characters arrive on Tatooine.
Episode One: The Cantina
Read aloud:
You arrive on Tatooine and are given directions to the local cantina. Many aliens wander about the spaceport going about their daily tasks. As you approach the cantina, you see a group of people bunched up ahead of you. After pushing your way to the front of the crowd, getting several angry glances as you pass, you see a group of six Imperial stormtroopers escorting a struggling Human captive away from the cantina.
If the characters ask around, they find out that a local detective for hire has been arrested by the Empire for treason. Should they pursue the matter any further or attempt to follow them to the garrisons headquarters at the local militia post, two troopers begin breaking up the crowd, telling everyone to go about their business as if nothing happened.
When the characters enter the cantina, read the following aloud:
The mutterings of alien languages and scents of a half dozen exotic, colorful vapors fill the air. A catchy tune is being played by a band somewhere off in the distance. The few empty spaces at the main bar are close to uninviting patrons, some even the busy bartender is obviously avoiding.
As you enter, you are scrutinized by many patrons. Some look on with interest while others turn away in disgust, but all resume their business almost immediately. After a quick search of the establishment, you find your contact seated in a booth near tables where patrons are playing sabacc. As you approach, you notice a Twi'lek two booths away looks at you suspiciously before ducking back into his booth.
After the characters sit down, Rai-Kalei introduces himself and explains that the man who was just arrested, Nim Bola, has hidden the droid. In order to get the droid, the characters must deal with one of Bola's associates, a Twi'lek named Tavri. He is sitting two booths down and is ready to make a deal. Before they leave, Rai-Kalei informs them he will be ready and waiting in docking bay 77 to transport them and the droid off Tatooine at a moment's notice.
A trader by nature, Rai-Kalei has used his freighter, the Mayjeln, to transport illegal cargo and passengers throughout the galaxy. He was released from service by the SoroSuub Corporation after a mishap with the Empire, and has since become wanted by the Empire for smuggling in many systems. He keeps a low profile and hangs out with other smugglers.
Rai-Kalei joined the Rebel Alliance several months ago, working as both a smuggler and an informant. He is quiet and resourceful, always looking for a good deal, and is especially well known for his honesty and bargaining skills.
Rai-Kalei
Type: Sullustan Trader
DEXTERITY 2D+1
Blaster 4D, dodge 3D+2, running 2D+2
KNOWLEDGE 2D+2
Alien species 3D, bureaucracy 3D+1, languages 4D+2, planetary systems 6D+1, streetwise 3D, survival: Sullust 12D
MECHANICAL 4D+1
Astrogation 6D, space transports 7D+2, starship gunnery 7D, starship shields 5D+2
PERCEPTION 3D
Bargain 5D, persuasion 5D, sneak 3D+2
STRENGTH 2D
Brawling 2D+1, climbing/jumping 4D, stamina 2D+1
TECHNICAL 3D+2
Computer programming/repair 5D, first aid 4D, space transports repair 6D
Special Abilities: Enhanced Senses: Sullustans get +2D to their search and related Perception checks in low-light conditions due to their vision and hearing. Location Sense: Sullustans cannot get lost in a place they have visited before. They get +1D when making an astrogation roll for a planet they have visited before.
Force Points: 2
Character Points: 11
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D), comlink, datapad, modified light freighter
When the characters meet with Tavri, he seems to be impatient and gets down to business immediately. He tells the characters that in order to get the droid they must pay the 50,000 credits and help free Bola. Should the characters attempt to bargain with him, they may be able to get the price down to 40,000. If they flatly refuse to help, Tavri raises the price to 75,000 and walks away. Should the characters pay the price and agree to help free Bola, Tavri says they must play a key part in the rescue plan before he reveals the location of the droid.
Episode Two: Jail Break
The characters are told to meet Tavri around the back of a nearby droid lot that night. Several groups of Imperial Army troopers are patrolling the city, asking anyone they see for information about the missing droid.
An encounter in the streets could be potentially deadly, unless the troopers are conned or given a bribe to turn their backs.
Once at the droid lot, Tavri pulls the characters inside a nearby building and outlines his plan to free Bola. The characters are to set four explosive packs, two on the militia building itself and one on each of the two support speeders outside. The timers are set for 30 minutes after the explosives are armed — this should give the characters enough time to get clear of the explosions and the confusion they will create.
Tavri will enter the militia building after the explosives go off to rescue Bola himself. They will be making their escape that night — Tavri advises the characters to do the same.
Tavri
Type: Twi'lek Mercenary
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D, blaster: heavy blaster pistol 8D, brawling parry 5D, dodge 6D, grenade 4D+2
KNOWLEDGE 3D
Business 6D, intimidation 5D+2, streetwise 6D
MECHANICAL 2D
Repulsorlift operation 6D, starship gunnery 4D+1
PERCEPTION 4D
Con 7D, gambling 6D+1, hide 5D, search 5D+2, sneak 6D+2
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 4D
TECHNICAL 3D
Blaster repair 5D, computer program/repair 5D, first aid 7D, repulsorlift repair 3D+1, security 5D
Special Abilities:
Tentacles: Twi'leks can use their tentacles to communicate in secret with other Twi'leks, even in a room full of individuals.
Character Points: 12
Move: 10
Equipment: Blast vest (+1 from energy, +1D from physical, torso only) comlink, heavy blaster pistol (5D)
Tavri has wandered the galaxy since he was old enough to leave home. In order to stay out of the civil war, Tavri spent much of his time in the Fringe, hiring out the skills he's learned to the highest bidder. A mishap with the Imperials landed him in a detention block at the same time a detective for hire named Nim Bola was investigating a recent prison break. Bola made some type of bargain for the Twi'lek's freedom and hired him as his bodyguard. Tavri feels he owes Bola a tremendous debt and is extraordinarily loyal. Over the past few years, he has come to call his employer his friend.
The characters may attempt to approach the militia building from any direction, though the back is probably the safest. A Moderate sneak roll allows the characters to reach the building undetected. A Moderate hide roll keeps the explosives hidden from view, while an Easy demolitions roll arms them. If the militia is on alert, these difficulties should be raised by one level.
The landspeeders are more difficult targets, as they are guarded by two sandtroopers. A Difficult sneak roll gets the characters to the vehicles undetected. As above, an Easy hide roll conceals the explosives from view and an Easy demolitions roll arms them.
Once the explosives are set, the characters meet Tavri again in the streets near the militia building. He tells the characters that the droid is in Nim Bola's office, hidden beneath a false floor. Tavri hands them a datapad with the address and entry codes into the office. The office is easy to find using Tavri's directions.
Episode Three: Saving the Droid
Nim Bola's office is in a free-standing, single story structure that also serves as his home. The door to the office has been forcibly opened, making the entry codes useless. When the characters peer inside, read the following aloud:
The furniture in this room has been turned over and smashed up. A large desk sits in one corner of the room, it has obviously been moved, as it now faces the door. The desk drawers are lying on the floor, along with cracked datacards and smashed datapads. There is a good sized computer station on the right side of the room, but much of it has been damaged and it doesn't seem operable. Along the rear left side of the office is a door that doesn't seem to have been tampered with.
The characters should know to look for the false floor, and a Moderate search roll reveals the hidden compartment beneath a heavy rug made from some exotic animal's hide. Inside the compartment is a battered astromech droid that has been deactivated. When activated, the droid identifies itself as Artoo-ZeeOne — he follows his proclamation with a fweep.
If the characters make a Very Difficult search roll, they find an Imperial listening device hidden in the room's humidifier unit. The droid soon indicates that several beings are quickly approaching from the office's west side, and emits a series of shrill fweeps.
Should the characters look outside, they see four Imperial Army troopers running toward the office. One of the troopers is speaking into a comlink, while the others are readying their weapons.
The characters may find an escape route from Bola's office, or they may choose to fight the troopers. Once the troopers are pinned down by the characters' blaster fire, they call for reinforcements. Ten rounds later, a squad of eight sandtroopers arrive, surround the office, and begin to set up an E-web heavy repeating blaster.
Nim Bola's Office/Living Space
Imperial Army Trooper
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D+1, dodge 4D+1, grenade 3D+2, heavy weapons 3D+2
KNOWLEDGE 2D
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 2D
STRENGTH 3D+1
Brawling 4D
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: Blast helmet (+1 from energy, +1D from physical), blast vest (+1 from energy, +1D from physical), blaster pistol (4D), 2 grenades (4D), comlink
Sandtrooper
DEXTERITY 3D
Blaster 4D, blaster: blaster rifle 5D, brawling parry 4D, dodge 4D, melee combat 3D+1
KNOWLEDGE 2D
MECHANICAL 2D
PERCEPTION 2D
Search 2D+2
STRENGTH 3D
Brawling 4D+1
TECHNICAL 2D
Move: 10
Equipment: Heat-reflective armor (+1D from energy, +2D from physical attacks; -1 to Dexterity), comlink, filter mask, blaster rifle (5D), blaster pistol (4D)
Fweep (Artoo-ZeeOne)
Type: R2 Astromech Droid
DEXTERITY 2D
Dodge 2D+2
KNOWLEDGE 2D
Bureaucracy 4D, bureaucracy: Bothawui 7D+2, bureaucracy: Imperial 6D, planetary systems 6D
MECHANICAL 3D
Astrogation 6D, communications 8D+1, starfighter piloting 4D
PERCEPTION 2D
Sneak 3D+2
STRENGTH 2D+1
TECHNICAL 4D
Computer programming/repair 7D+1, security 5D, starfighter repair 6D+2, starship weapon repair 6D
Character Points: 10
Move: 6 (4 while damaged)
Equipped With:
Three wheeled legs (one retractable)
Retractable heavy grasper arm (+1D to lifting)
Retractable fine work grasper arm
Extendable 0.3 meter long video sensor (360 degree rotation)
Small electric arc welder (3D damage, 0.3 meter range)
Small circular saw (4D damage, 0.3 meter range)
Video display screen
Holographic projector/recorder (1 meter range)
Fire extinguisher
Small internal "cargo" area (20 cm by 8 cm)
Information storage/retrieval jack for computer link-up
Broad band antenna receiver (can monitor broadcast and communication frequencies)
R2-Z1 (Artoo-ZeeOne), nicknamed Fweep, is a troublesome little droid who can be as annoying as he can be stubborn. Although he doesn't realize it, R2-Z1 makes a sound resembling a pitched "fweep" that changes according to mood. He has an incredibly one-tracked mind and persistently works at any given task until it is completed, a trait that brings him trouble as often as praise. Fweep is extraordinarily loyal, making the transition between masters difficult at best. But once he accepts a new master, he will serve faithfully to the point of his own destruction.
If it seems the characters have no escape from Bola's besieged office, the sudden explosions at the militia building could momentarily distract the sandtroopers. If the characters are somehow captured, they soon find themselves on a one-way trip to visit an Imperial interrogator droid.
Episode Four: Pursuit and Escape
Once outside and free of the troops, the characters realize they are only a few streets away from the docking bay where Rai-Kalei is waiting for them aboard his freighter, the Mayjeln. The streets are deserted, giving the characters an opportunity to move quickly.
The characters run at about double the speed of the damaged astromech droid, which is emitting a high pitched series of continuous fweeps as it moves. The droid doesn't realize it makes the noise, so it can't be stopped without being deactivated. It makes this noise at the most inopportune moments, especially when pursuing Imperial Army troopers are searching for the characters.
The Imperials find this noise easy to follow, making it near impossible for the characters to sneak, hide, or surprise anyone. The droid is much too heavy to carry, and aside from deactivating it and stashing it somewhere, the characters must try to bear with it or leave it behind.
As they flee Nim Bola's office, the characters pass a speeder lot that contains several styles of landspeeders, both two and four seaters. The characters may attempt to steal one or two of these — however, the lot is monitored by four security droids, who sound their hooting alarms the moment a character reaches a speeder. A Difficult repulsorlift operation roll allows the characters to get the speeders on line and ready to go. As the characters zip away on their stolen speeders, the speeder lot's angry owner pokes his head out his nearby dwelling and takes several pot shots at the fleeing thieves.
Angry Owner
DEXTERITY 3D+1
Blaster 4D+2
Move: 10
Equipment: Blaster pistol (4D)
Through the transport offered by the speeders or their legs, the characters must make their way to docking bay 77, where Rai-Kalei is waiting for them. During the course of the chase, a fair number of Imperial Army and sandtroopers should engage in pursuit to add some danger to the chase.
If the explosives at the militia building haven't blown up yet, use them at the most opportune time to help the characters escape. The characters arrive at the docking bay and Rai-Kalei is waiting for them, his ship already prepped and ready to blast off.
Only moments after they blast out of the spaceport, they are attacked by a four TIE fighters from a Dreadnaught heavy cruiser on an intercept course. The characters must crew the freighter's weapons and attempt to fend off the TIE fighters until Rai-Kalei can get the ship far enough away from the planet to make the jump to hyperspace.
The Mayjeln
Craft: Modified Corellian XS-800 light freighter
Scale: Starfighter
Length: 30.2 meters
Skill: Space transports: XS-800 light freighter
Crew: 1 to 2 (can coordinate)
Crew Skill: See Rai-Kalei
Passengers: 8
Cargo Capacity: 115 metric tons
Consumables: 2 months
Cost: Not available for sale
Hyperdrive Multiplier: x1
Hyperdrive Backup: x12
Nav Computer: Yes
Maneuverability: 2D
Space: 6
Atmosphere: 550; 900 kmh
Hull: 4D
Shields: 2D
Sensors:
Passive: 15/0D
Scan: 30/1D
Search: 50/3D
Focus: 2/4D
Weapons:
Quad Laser Cannon (fire-linked)
Fire Arc: Turret
Crew: 1
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 3D
Space Range: 1-3/12/25
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2.5 km
Damage: 6D
Double Laser Cannon (fire-linked)
Fire Arc: Turret
Crew: 1
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 2D
Space Range: 1-3/12/25
Atmosphere Range: 100-300/1.2/2.5 km
Damage: 4D
Blaster Cannon
Fire Arc: Front
Skill: Starship gunnery
Fire Control: 2D
Space Range: 1-5/10/17
Atmosphere Range: 100-500/1/1.7 km
Damage: 3D+2
This craft is being constantly modified by Rai-Kalei. No one is sure where he obtained the ship, but it has a reputation as a smuggler's ship throughout the galaxy. It is named after a mythic Sullustan explorer whose feats of daring navigation and high speed heroics made him one of Rai-Kalei's favorite heroes.
TIE Fighter
Scale: Starfighter
Starfighter Piloting: 4D+1
Starship Gunnery: 4D
Maneuverability: 2D
Space: 10
Atmosphere: 415; 1,200 kmh
Hull: 2D
Weapons: 2 laser cannons (fire-linked; fire control 2D, damage 5D)
When the characters make it back to the Rebel base with the droid and the information intact, they are rewarded for their service with commissions in Alliance Intelligence. The Imperial Navy operational plans they retrieved with the droid are analyzed by Rebel Alliance commanders and tactical advisors, who plan to use the information to track Imperial fleet movements and ordnance transfers.
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Surprise Visit
by Stephen Crane Photographs by Stephen Crane
Note: The following scenario makes use of new rules presented in the Star Wars Miniatures Battles Companion. You must have that book to play this scenario.
The Situation
Alliance Intelligence has determined that Santhe/Sienar Technologies has come one step closer to developing a viable cloaking shield for the Imperial Navy. At a secret lab on Dennaskar, a breakthrough has been achieved in the channeling capacity of the polarity-charging flux refractor, one of the major subsystems of the cloak's energy directional scrambler.
Imperial scientists are now eager to put the improved flux refractor to the test, so Santhe/Sienar has prepared a prototype for Imperial review. The prototype is being transported to the nearest landing field by Santhe Security for Imperial Navy pickup. Dennaskar is a lightly populated world, and the lab is situated in a remote area for secrecy's sake. Therefore, the trip to the landing field is rather long and passes through some relatively wild terrain. The Rebel Alliance sees a perfect opportunity to hijack the prototype and a strike team is dispatched to secure the refractor for the Rebellion.
As the Rebel strike team sets up an ambush near a wooded stretch of the road, fortune shines on them. As the convoy nears the ambush site, the escort speeder blows its turbothrust converter coil, forcing the escort to travel on foot. The Rebels look forward to an easy assault.
The Forces
The Rebel player has 2,000 SGPs with which to assemble two or three squads. Up to 600 points may be used for a vehicle or one or two heroes.
The Imperial player has 1,800 points to assemble his forces. He should set up two squads of Santhe Security troopers as escorts, and a reduced squad of stormtroopers — the speeder truck's surprise cargo. The stormtrooper squad must consist of five to eight stormtroopers and a heavy repeating blaster.
In addition to his troops, the Imperial player is supplied with a speeder truck, which has the following statistics:
Speeder Truck
Drive System: Repulsorlift
Crew: 1
Passengers: 10
# Turns: 2
Turn Distance: 3
Move: 55
Cautious Speed: 5
Cruise Speed: 15
Top Speed: 55
Accel/Decel: 5/5
Flight Ceiling: 3m
Body Strength: 6
Body Points: 60
Cover: F
SGPs: 155
It is also equipped with a repeating blaster mounted on the top of the cab. The blaster is capable of following fire, and has these statistics:
Repeating Blaster
Damage: 6
Range: 15/60/150
Fire Control: —
Fire Arc: F
Skill: Vehicle blasters
SGPs: 23
Notes: Following fire; may be fired by driver
The Battlefield
The ambush occurs at a point where the woods encroach on the road. There are two low hills and a small hillock flanking the road. All the hills are easy terrain, reducing movement to half-rate. The woods are medium terrain, providing medium cover and also reducing movement to half-rate. Where the woods cover the hills, movement is reduced to quarter-rate.
Movement along the road and in the clear terrain is unaffected.
The Set-Up
The Rebels forces are deployed secretly, on either side of the road. The Rebel player should mark his initial deployment on a copy of the set-up map. Soldiers who begin the game in the woods and more than 1" from the edge of the woods are hidden, as are any soldiers behind a hill.
The gamemaster adjudicates movement of hidden troops. If there is no gamemaster, the honor system must suffice. Troops are revealed and placed on the table when they move into line of sight of any enemy forces, or if they fire weapons.
The Imperial troops come onto the table along the road from the west. The speeder truck must enter the table on the road. The Santhe Security escort troops may enter anywhere within 4" of the road. The stormtrooper squad begins the game in the back of the truck, so it is not visible. The stormtrooper figures should be kept out of sight so that they are a surprise when finally revealed.
It is possible not all the Imperial troops will make it onto the table in the first turn. Any troops which did not enter the table on the first turn enter on the second turn. The Imperial player may delay the entry of one of the squads until the second turn if she so desires.
Gamemaster Notes
The Rebels are in the unenviable position of having been second-guessed. The Imperial forces have discovered the ambush plan and have prepared their own ambush in return.
The speeder truck does not contain the flux refractor. It was removed and a squad of stormtroopers was placed in the back of the truck with a heavy repeating blaster. They are to emerge from the truck when the Rebel forces are fully committed to the assault, and eliminate them.
The stormtrooper squad begins the game in the back of the speeder truck, out of sight. The Imperial commander may deploy them when he deems it appropriate. The stormtroopers disembark from the back of the truck, following the normal rules for disembarking, which are presented in Chapter One of the Star Wars Miniatures Battles Companion.
The stormtrooper squad is equipped with a heavy repeating blaster, which is a crewed assembled weapon capable of following fire. The blaster is already assembled within the back of the truck. The doors of the truck are rigged with explosive bolts; the Imperial player may choose to blow off the rear doors and fire the blaster from within the truck.
Blowing the bolts requires a Mechanical test by a stormtrooper against a difficulty of 4. This occurs during the Fire Combat Phase. Failure means that the bolts did not detonate and the door remains in place; the blaster cannot be fired that turn. The attempt may be repeated in each successive turn.
Santhe Security Trooper
The following is the Troop Listing for Santhe Security troops. The Imperial player should create his security squads from this troop type.
Quality: Veteran
Size: 5-10
DEX: 3
KNO: 3
MEC: 1
PER: 3
STR: 2
TEC: 2
Move: 10
Skills: Level 2 — DEX, STR, MEC, TEC
Weapons: Blaster pistol, heavy blaster pistol, blaster rifle
Armor: Bounty hunter
Commanders: Level 3
Specialists: Level 3 — brawling, melee combat, repulsorlift operation, vehicle blasters
Once the doors are blown off, the heavy blaster may be fired out the back of the speeder truck. From the orientation of the truck, the blaster has a Fire Arc of R. In addition, any three stormtroopers not crewing the weapon may fire their own weapons out the back of the truck at any targets they can draw a LOS to.
Once the doors have been removed, stormtroopers in the truck are vulnerable to weapons fire. The firing troops must be within a 90-degree arc centered on the back of the truck and be able to draw a LOS to the doors. Troopers within the truck are considered to have medium cover.
The stormtroopers may also deploy the heavy blaster outside the truck. To do so, the truck must begin the Movement Phase stationary. The crew may then manhandle the blaster out of the truck. This takes the entire Movement Phase — the crew and the truck may not move in the current phase. The assembled heavy blaster is then placed on the table behind the truck. It may be fired in the following Fire Combat Phase.
Thereafter, the weapon is moved normally, according to all the rules and restrictions for assembled weapons (see page 23 of Star Wars Miniatures Battles).
The assembled blaster can be loaded back into the truck, but to do so requires two full Movement Phases, during which time the truck cannot move. The crew cannot fire weapons or engage in close assault combat between the two Movement Phases. If they do, it will require another two turns to hoist the weapon into the truck (they have had to start over).
Once the stormtroopers have been brought into play, either by disembarking or by firing from within the truck, the gamemaster should give the Rebel player his revised Orders of the Day.
Sidebar: Orders of the Day
Commander of the Guard,
Santhe Security
Commander: Rebel forces have learned of the planned shipment of our confidential project for the Empire. You are ordered to eliminate them. You will have a stormtrooper squad assigned to your force. They will occupy the transport vehicle in place of the shipment.
Set up two squads to serve escort duty. You will approach on foot after abandoning your "broken-down" escort vehicle to lure the Rebels into the trap. Allow no survivors.
You have 1,800 points to assemble your forces. Set up two squads of Santhe Security troopers as escorts, and a squad of stormtroopers. The stormtrooper squad must consist of five to eight stormtroopers and a heavy repeating blaster.
You will enter the table on the road from the west, no more than 4" from the road. One of your security squads will enter in front of the speeder truck, the other will follow the truck. The stormtroopers are hidden in the truck and can be deployed at your discretion (see me about the details of deployment).
Victory: Eliminate all traces of the Rebel scum.
Commandeering The Truck
Rebel troops may attempt to take control of the truck. The truck must be moving at a Rate of no more than 8". If a soldier moves next to the door on the driver's side of the cab he may declare that he is jumping onto the truck and is attempting to wrest control of the vehicle from the driver. A soldier engaged in this attempt is exempt from the effects of being separated from his squad.
The soldier must expend 2" of his Movement Rate and make a difficulty 6 Dexterity test. If he succeeds, he has managed to cling to the side of the truck. In the following Close Assault Combat Phase he may close assault the driver. If he fails, he loses an additional 3" of his Movement Rate, but may attempt to jump on the truck again if he has sufficient Movement Rate remaining.
Should the trooper succeed in clinging to the truck, he may attack the driver in the following Close Assault Combat Phase. The combat is resolved normally, except that the attacking soldier's die roll is reduced by 2 as a result of his precarious position. Along with the normal results of the attack, the loser of the combat is thrown from the speeder truck and ends up prone on the ground. Place the figure on its side alongside the truck next to the driver's door. In the case of a tie, the attacking soldier remains hanging onto the truck and may attempt close assault combat in the following turn.
The attacking soldier may also try to clamber into the speeder truck from the passenger side. Follow the procedure described above; if the soldier is successful, he has climbed into the cab. He may then close assault the driver in the following Phase, but with no reduction in his die roll. The loser of the close assault combat is still thrown from the truck through the driver's door.
While a soldier is hanging onto the truck with the intention of commandeering it, the driver must make a repulsorlift operation test for every move or maneuver he makes (including straight ahead and turns). The difficulty of each repulsorlift operation test is increased by 2 while the driver is being attacked.
Orders of the Day
Alliance Commander Pash Deven
Commander: Santhe Security is transporting an improved component for the Empire's cloaking project. We want it. They'll be shipping it out by speeder truck along a relatively isolated road. Assemble two or three squads and ambush 'em. Capture the component and bring it back. If that's not possible, destroy it — we don't want the Imps to have it if we can't.
You have 2,000 points to spend on your forces. Up to 500 points may be used for a vehicle or one or two heroes. Set up hidden, on both sides of the road — mark your set-up on a copy of the map.
Victory: Capture the component and carry it off the northeast corner of the table. Or, for a marginal victory, destroy the component.
Orders of the Day
Alliance Commander Pash Deven
It's an ambush — get the information and get out of there!
Victory: Have one of your men get a look in the truck to confirm or deny the shipment of the component — then get him and at least five others off the table though the northeast corner (anywhere from the hill down through the northeast woods).
Rally Points
The rally point for Rebel soldiers north of the road is the area between the road and the hill at the north edge of the table. For Rebels south of the road, it is the southeast corner of the table.
The Imperial rally point is the southwest corner of the table.
Victory Conditions
The Rebels achieve victory by surviving to get information back to the Alliance. Six or more soldiers must retreat off the table, and at least one must have had a line of sight into the truck during the game. Retreating soldiers must leave the table through the woods along the east side of the table, or along the north edge of the table between the hill and the northeast corner.
The Imperial player is victorious if he eliminates all the Rebels.
Using An Optional Rule
The Imperials achieve a decisive victory if they can capture one of the Rebels and escort him off the table via the west end of the road. The optional rules for taking prisoners are presented in Chapter Three of the Star Wars Miniatures Battles Companion.
Painting Note
Santhe Security troopers can be represented by any figures from Star Wars miniatures packs 40412 (Imperial Naval Troopers I) or 40419 (Imperial Naval Troopers 2).
The basic uniform of Santhe Security forces is similar to the uniform of Imperial naval troopers. Again, because of Santhe Corp's close ties to the Empire, its forces are permitted to wear similar uniforms.
Santhe Security uniforms are black — like Imperial naval trooper uniforms — but have silver piping running down the outside of the shoulders, arms and legs. The boots are black, and the helmets are silver. The simplified Santhe corporate logo or the Santhe Security logo (depending on the squad's mission) is generally emblazoned on the back, so that Santhe soldiers are readily visible to one another. This also helps insure that they are not mistaken for Imperial troops. When set against black, as on the security uniforms, the oval portion of the Santhe logo is displayed in silver for better visibility.