Star Wars - Hunters and Hunted

Another day unpaid...

Well… here I am again… hopeless and empty handed. Turns out dad was right I don't have the "Criminal Mind" it takes to make the big credits on the Outer Rim. I have too big a conscious he says, I can't handle living a life of crime. I made my choice to be a legit transport and that's
what I'm gonna stick with dammit! I resent my father for putting my mother and I through that life, and it beats at me everyday. Truth is I feel he tells me these things to push me into it and every time I don't budge we grow further apart. No big deal to me, the further we are apart the less likely ill be headed down his path. 

The last transport left me with a sour taste in my mouth because once again I wasn't paid and told I would see my payment soon. Heh… you know the previous transport told me the exact same thing, that was 2 weeks ago. Guess the word got out that I would let a payment slip. If I don't see a credit soon I might be tempted…NO! I won't be like my skeeving father, I won't be compromised but I can't let everyone walk all over me either. 

I am at my wits end running transport from Coruscant. I need to find a place to clear my head and ease my thoughts. Thoughts of home are always soothing, Temlia is home but ive been away for so long I can hardly remember the beauty that resides within the forests, but who could ever really forget? I remember when I was about 8 years old running through
the forests near my home town of Tennosa getting lost but somehow always finding my way home to my worried mother. I remember seeing my father come home from his "Valiant Missions" and being so proud to have him as my father. Some things were
much better back then…Yeah I think its time to take my mission Temlia.

A blast from the past

Sometimes the stars align and sometimes they don't. For Kol Soreeta, they sure had seemed very much aligned for most of his life. Of course he had lost his parents, but he had avoided the suspicious accident that had taken their lives. Then he had providentially escaped an assassination attempt. And of course most 16-year olds wouldn't have survived more than a few days (if not hours) in the dangerous streets of Nar Shaddaa. But Kol was resourceful. Always had been. As the saying goes, the Shuura doesn't fall far from the tree.

This was supposed to be a routine visit to Nar Shaddaa after months of gambling throughout the Outer Rim. Everything changed the moment Kol saw that the door to his loft had been forced. Rushing in was certainly not the wisest move, but he just had to know. Inside, everything was trashed. As he ran to the bedroom, Kol felt a lump in his stomach. He had a bad feeling about this. And there it was. His safe, open. All of his reserve credits, gone. It could only mean one thing: Grabbo had somehow found out he was still alive. And had decided it was safer to come after him. Seriously? How much of a grudge can one hold?

It was time to get out of there. The place was probably tapped. Maybe there was still time to get back to his ship. There would be no coming back this time. Kol made a run to the docks. Too late. Grabbo's men had located his ship and were waiting for him at the docking bay. He was running out of options. Seeing more of Grabbo's men around the spaceport, Kol knew he was also running out of time. A departing freighter provided him with an auspicious respite. He sneaked on board as the loading ramp was closing, hoping the ship would take him to a place where he could weigh his options and get back on track. Based on the cargo, his streak of bad luck was not over. Weapons smugglers. They better not find out they had a stowaway.

Upon landing, Kol managed a discreet exit, only to find out that he was on Temlia. Not exactly the kind of place where he could start fresh. Too small, too quiet, too human. He couldn't get back on the smuggler's ship either. Too dangerous on its own right. And then there was the added risk that the smugglers could just be flying straight back to Nar Shaddaa. For perhaps the first time in his life, Kol wasn't ready to take a bet. This really didn't look good.


Killian arrives on Temlia as part of a security detail for one of Grey Haven's frequent clandestine business transactions. The job was to cut a deal with an iron monger and smuggle a shipment of blasters back to Corynth II, using Temlia’s lack of eyes, relative to other more populated worlds, to avoid scrutiny. Killian stands with two more enforcers at the back of a rundown warehouse near the edge of town, while the group’s smooth-talking face negotiates with the gun runners over price.

For reasons Killian neither knows nor cares, the deal goes sideways and the two parties draw on each other. Why is it that Killian is always the one getting shot at when somebody else has a disagreement? Even better, some damn fool brought a thermal detonator. Seeing the idiot with the thermal detonator in time, Killian fires and drops him but it's too late and the telltale glow and sound coming from the small orb is all the incentive it takes for Killian to dive behind cover. He survives the blast but dislodged rubble half buries him after knocking him unconscious.

When he finally comes to he pulls himself from the rubble to find that, aside from the bodies dotted here and there, he is alone. If anyone from Grey Haven survived the blast, they have left him for dead. Maybe that's for the best.

A sound that could only be some sort of emergency response drifts in through the hole in the warehouse wall. Volunteers probably, given the size of the town, which means less organized and less timely. Lucky.

Killian takes stock of his situation. He's got his weapons; a sport rifle and the blaster pistol his dad used when he was on the police force, the clothes (and sparse armor) on his back, the medical kit he sometimes has to use to bandage up his less careful coworkers, though it doesn’t look like it will be much use to them in their current condition, and a couple credit chips in his pocket make up the totality of the things he brought with him to this world. Adding to that the headache he has acquired since being here, and Killian figures he's got just enough to contact his brother and find some local work.

As he slips out of the ruined warehouse to avoid being there when the first responders arrive, Killian is deep in thought. What lie is he going to tell as an excuse for why he is stuck off world? A promotion? No, there isn't likely to be an increase in the amount of credits he sends home any time soon. Fired? Ha. Almost too true. Met a girl? No. Ship repairs? Maybe. Should he try and contact Grey Haven too? . . .

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