Empire's Black Bone! (Complete)

[Lamar Starworth]

Takes place 1 year and 3 months before Battle of Endor



Empire's Black Bone!


"What the--?" Lamar's words exclaimed over the crowd of the citizens that came to hear from the HoloNet their favorite show. Instead it was quickly interrupted by a "wanted sign". A dark brown haired holographic figure stood, his face stern and almost angered. Underneath the hologram came the text that spelled out "Luke Skywalker". An interesting figure, but truly annoying for most the pedestrians. Mechanical words bursted from the holoemitter describing the "wanted" figure to be vile and dangerous. Many people, however, didn't respond well to Lamar's unruly statement, leaving some to nod in understanding while others gave him puzzled eyebrows. He simply sneered back in response.

Moving about, Lamar stepped out from the holovid room. The sound of a lull squeak came from his fitted boots pressed against the polished surface. The Imperial news was mind-boggling and nauseating. It took a moment, but finally Lamar noticed exactly where he was. Letting his dark brown eyes drift through the crowds of the city, he noticed the clouds that surrounded the fortress.

The place was Bespin, but he felt nothing like someone that was sitting on a cloud. Everyone seemed to walk calmly, while others were nervous. The place was a hot spot for visitors, gamblers and big credits. It wasn't Spira, but it was still worth the time of day or possibly weeks to take a flight over. Lamar however had come for different reasons. His ship needed a quick check-up and he was in the system, so "why not". The small time of rest wasn't well spent, but atleast it was just that. Rest, something he rarely was dealt even in the silence of space. That was the life of a spacer.

Lamar's caramel brown skin was the lone amongst the crowd as he stepped across the carpet floors. The traffic of humans, aliens and animals alike was overwhelming. Yet in all the glory of the walkways enormity the adolescent tread in isolation. Seclusion, however, wasn't a new feeling for him. It had been over six months since he had seen any of his family members on Coruscant and the sheer thought of them took strikes at his heart. The great memories of his friends were once things to hold onto, but in the present they weren't enough to warm his breast in his cold nights of space.

Things were changing and it was beginning to ache. Lamar had no control and he hated it. Nudging someone out the way, he drifted further into the flood of people. The victims of his anger glanced over at him, confused at his sudden explosion of attitude. Leaving the crowd behind, he headed to the spaceport where his ship resided in a secluded area on the outside of the incredibly structured city. Watching as the metal door sled open to his presence, he entered the platform. The bridge branching from the city to the ship grounds seemed ready to give up, but it was to be expected in the middle sectors of the large fortress.

"I ain't comin' back here...ever again," Lamar mumbled, letting his Coruscanti accent roll deep into his basic. Taking in the spectacle of his battered revamped Naboo Royal Cruiser, leaving only a frown on his face. It deserved a simple snort of repulsion, for it truly showed how far Lamar had gone from his Coruscant Engineer Academy days. Running up the ramp, he avoided another glance back at his abstract "exhibit" of triumph.

Running through the ship and finally jumping into the leather chair, he began starting up the engines. A rumble burrowed from under and on the wings. The thought of this being his least studied, but favorite vessel in his schooling began run through his mind. The memories...like a tree sprouted branches into linked lives. It hurt.

Six months had passed. Lamar had changed since Coruscant and like anything alive the galaxy did as well. In the time that had spaced the boy from his pure hatred for Jedi and realization of himself he had found a weird object called a light saber. The unique item rattled behind him as the ship broke through the atmosphere and crumpled to a sloth motion as it reached orbit. The reformed Nabooian Cruiser project of his was far from as polished as the original, but the interior...it was quite interesting. Trophies of his accomplishment tried replacing the embrace of living beings. They were simply heads of animals; items and certificates...none of them had arms to do the job he hoped they could.

"Ay, R4-J90 we are headin' off to...co-co-Coruscant. So do a full check-up of systems. Alright?" Lamar ordered, as he looked straight ahead through the window that revealed the stars. The crystallized view held a tainted reflection with Lamar's eyes giving a leer back at him. The contrast of his small eyes and other features went into a fade as the astromech the he referred to came strolling behind him.

Glancing over his shoulder, Lamar took in the radiant blue and red of the short droids coloration. Patting it on the head, he slapped it on what could be referred to as its bottom. The astromech had saved him many times, and this wasn't any different.

"Beep! Beep, beep! Zsserz [Translation: Okay, okay I'm going.]" The astromech droid proclaimed before hastily strolling off into the main deck where the necessities ran.

In a matter of moments, the ship was of. And as soon as they exited orbit, the space took to hyperspace. They...no, he was on his way.

[Lamar Starworth]

Space was so different when one traveled it alone. In the olden days upon the Coruscant ship station. One could throw a pebble in any direction and end up hitting at least one persons head. Everyone had something to converse about and thought not every held that same friendly attitude as others, it was never a question of finding a friend. The only problem Lamar had was that arose presently, for it was truly hard to find a real friend.

Stumbling from his seat as the hyperspace sequence began, he scampered to the ships main quarters. The R4 unit rolled about happily in all its artificial glee. The very phantom at such unique behavior was truly beyond the young boy, so he didn't even take the time to ponder.

Twirling elegantly, but ever so casual, around the astromech he headed deeper into the room with walls of trophies. Some were suspended on mantles, while stuffed animals lay perched in corners. He was no great hunter, he wasn't even average, but he stayed busy.

Lamar had very rarely taken time off or even imagined time on Spira for even a weekend. Keeping busy allowed many things to come to him, but even more things not too.

Space always consisted of such moments of thoughts for Lamar, but rarely did he ever place his hands on any of his trophies for defeated "foes". He had yet to kill, but capturing a target was even greater accomplishment for most of his clients. Many of his clientele took pity on him because of his age as well, and like any common folk of the galaxy he took advantage. Request after request began building as more accomplishments came his way in successful lowly hunts of numerous people. In result came what he desired, which was commonly what others found useless or needless. However, that wasn't the tale of the thing he placed his hands on as he scampered in the trophy room.

It was the rattling light saber. The unique, and extremely weird item held an awkward story. The memories flushed within Lamar's mind as he peered deep into it, his grip becoming tighter as the moments became clearer in his mind.

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Six Months Prior

The lower levels reeked of eccentric smells, but this day it was annoyingly fresh. The unusual aroma left the two faces of wandering pair through the streets with expression completely wrinkled in confusion. Glancing ever so often at each other for confirmation, they let out simple "eeks" until the ordinary smell returned.

One of the two was Lamar, the other...was a wildly different man. He was a Zabrak with a uniquely blue-sketched pattern on his face. His voice was rough, but undertone with a care and curtsey that was near impossible to find in the lower sector of Coruscant.

"You ever think 'bout jumpin into one of the races one day instead of makin' those swoops for them?" The Zabrak inquired.

"Nyah, D'narti. Too dangerous for my blood, ain't trying to die anytime soon."

"I might soon. Maybe we can do a lil' duo or somethin and start up are own company. You lace the swoopers, I swoop 'em and we'd be our own sponsor."

"Sounds good, but ya nev--"

In an abrupt burst a young Ithorian boy came to a sudden stop on his speeder bike. Skirting to a side motion, the normal murmur of the bike's engine cursed. Bouncing back, the two peered forth, completely bewildered by the sudden arrival of the neighborhood messenger. In the Ithorian's hand there was a small box, which he quickly shifted from his grasp toward Lamar, almost letting it fall.

"It's from your uncle. He left in the message no one is to open it, so it should be special..." The Ithorian calmly said in his foreign language because speeding off through the jammed streets.

Lamar looked from his kneel at the rushing Ithorian's back. He had been forced into a knee when reaching for the dropping item, but it was to be expected people in this sector. Frowning at the well-wrapped gift, he looked over at his friend.

"I didn't know you had an uncle"

"Me either..." Lamar said in a an almost whisper before ripping away at the covering and peering in the cardboard box...

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The same frown that was on his face that day didn't fade. Clenching harder at the durasteel, hoping deep within to crush it along with the past. He grasped to no avail. Beside him as he stood, looking deep on the well-crafted durasteel handle of the novel weaponry, there was an illuminating ball-sized translucent cube.

Glancing over, the shined item revealed an unclear image of him to reflect back. The lightsaber replaced the weird cube on the mantle as the boy closed his eyes, avoiding a look into the cubic frame as he lifted it into his hands.

"When did I get this?"

[Lamar Starworth]

The youngling's eyes were closed, but his eyebrows pierced as if he was peering into the ball suspended up from the ground by the safety net of his hands. The enormous, ball sized glassed cube reflected the calm face of Lamar. Then, in a sudden jerk, a spark erupted within the young man. His body shook violently as if taking an unwarranted punch from a Wookie. As sudden as Lamar moved, he eased to a motionless stand. The boy's eyes were calm once more, but now without fear, he opened them peering into his reflection.

Light emit from the cubical figure* within his palms, blinding him momentarily. The pitch of light had ironically broken into darkness for it was truly overwhelming. Almost staggering impulsively back, he resisted. Lamar knew that such an act would leave the focus from his palms onto his feet. In result there would be a shattered, unique artifact all over his good carpet. He didn't want that. Also, he was interested in seeing what the light from the cube was really about...

"The Force is with you." The words broke through hush of his lonely cabin. A man stood, seemingly beaming from the cube's holoemitter. He was an interesting being, dressed in robes Lamar had never seen before. Even though the man was in a blue hued, which was custom to holographic figures, his robe was clearly a fresh tanned white. Over his profound, unique garb there was a brown cloak that held a purposeful balance in color compared to his attire underneath. The man was the pinnacle of physical pureness and sturdiness. Even in his skin there was clearness, he being an almost pale white human.

The minimized figure standing a top the mystical item held little hair a long his head, but his wrinkles and sternness of his face made the qualities of his age a gem to the eye. Lamar could only peer on, trying his best to seem settled.

"What answers of the Jedi do you seek?" The strong voice of the man once more roared over the humming of the engine that slipped into the cabin's dullness. The closed quarters, fitted sparsely with furniture, seem to get smaller as every word dropped from the figure.

Lamar was confused. It was rare that anything spectacular ever happened in his life. Weighing the common and irregular left the scale eternally tipping to normal. Only the incident of the lightsaber had ever managed to shatter the continuity of normality in his almost "pitiful" existence. This time, however, he welcomed it. The idea of holding all the answers in his palms was too much to pass on. Even though the whole idea seemed overly complex he let the moment, hope and instinct push him.

"What is a Jedi?" He asked, ever so simply. Only if the answer could be the questions rival in simplicity.

"A Jedi is a guardian. The peacemaker of the Republic, keen in the use of the Force." The man began, taking only a slight break for the listener to take in the words. "The weapon of choice of a Jedi is an intriguing item known as the lightsaber. In this one finds numerous Forms of Combat, though only used in the justice for all. They provide for the Republic a hand in disputes and conflict, seeking to help the galaxy take steps to complete balance."

Awe wrote itself onto Lamar's face as he blinked at the infamous words devoured his mind. Such beliefs, such thoughts, they were not what he knew. Even if it was true, to phantom such an overwhelming ideas was to be held in an item he didn't even know he had was far beyond compatible. At the very least it wasn't enough for him to wrap his mind around in a moments time. Dropping the item onto a nearby sofa he flopped to the cabin floor. The dangling braids of his hair, a custom of his family lineage, beads beat against the floor as he looked up at the ceiling.

His body was spread out like that of a space angel. The surprise was slowly edging of his face, erased by acceptance. It was mind-boggling for him, of all people, to believe the words of a man coming out of a cube. Yet, there was something ever so eerie about the situation, ever so awkward. Within there was a truth awakening as the words became clearer in his head from what the aging man said. Even if it was a lie his father had always told him that there was always some sort of "truth" in a lie.

Grumbling at that, he stumbled to his feet. He was ready to ask another question, but he stopped. Somewhere inside Lamar knew that even if his words managed to quiver out some words, it'd be a stammer. Even in the seclusion of his ship he knew that it was unruly to stumble over words, at least in his family. Times had changed, but inside he still held on to a few things.

Yet some were fading, even with the wiping of one's words. Taking the words in again, he grabbed at the weird, mystical cube once more. Lifting it to his eye-view, he readied himself for a next question. Lamar's thoughts fumbled about before finally pulling up the enlarged cube and throwing the words he thought out his mouth.

"What in the maker's seven rings is this Force?"


"It is an energy, natural in this galaxy. Running through and off of all living. There are two sides of the Force in the eyes of a Jedi. It is the Dark Side and the Light. The Jedi wielding and fully indulge themselves in mastering the Light.

However, the Force has numerous elements to it. There is the living Force, which is that of the physical. It is what allows such things a telekinetic and hiding one's self. Then there is the unifying, which holds bonds of present, past and future. Within you is a high mid-chlorians count, allowing you to access this "Great Holocron" with your accessibility to the Force. Jedi's understanding of basics is held in three categories. First is control, which is a manipulation of one's inner Force. Then there is sense that holds the Jedi in bind with the living existence and alter which is manipulation of matter in the Force.

A Jedi should never lose sight of what the Force is. It does not move from a being, it flows through and in that the essence of a Jedi's abilities are spawned."

Lamar watched as he spoke. It was intriguing knowledge, and far less troubling, though confusing, as the previous statement. Within Lamar had felt it for a long time, but he avoided it. Everyone on the ship was "normal" and he intended to stay that way. In some degree he had clutched onto his abilities and subsided with complete emotion. Yet from what the man spoke of this was the wrong way. This interesting man, beaming from an artifact spoke as though emotion was not an instrument to be used in controlling the Force.

Somewhere in Lamar's mind, he knew it made sense.

"Tell me more....Tell me about Jedi's beliefs." Lamar started ecstatically.

"I wanna know of the Jedi combat forms you spoke about earlier. About this Holocron in my hand and who are you? Tell me! Come on tell me..."



((OOC: * = Great Holocron [It will be further explained later how Lamar stumbled onto this rare item.]

[Lamar Starworth]

Two Standard Weeks Later


Business always came before pleasure for Lamar. It was truly going to be a pleasurable experience heading to Coruscant once more. The feeling of the urbanized, compact planet-wide metropolis was a sweet taste for his eyes to swallow. Yet, it didn't happen. During his flight he had to compromise. He instead made a small, one-day visit back to the ship station to meet with his father as he had planned. However his client advised him to be in the Metellos System awaiting his target. It was smuggler and he was late.

He was real late.

The thirteen standard days seemed like years of waiting. Yet the young man had come to find a new hobby. The query of that strange Holocron had led to many discoveries. There was a more meaning in everything he had done as his awkward revelation ended. Even though his underlined spite barley withered in the face of the knowledge he held a keen sense of self. A clear understanding of what the Jedi were in comparison to what the Empire wanted the galaxy to believe was wide. Under the propaganda that took more than a few simple days to void there was a newfound respect and admiration. One could not help but find an interest in the Jedi, especially with their noble code.

Everyday he took to the cabin, watching the holovids beaming from the Holocron, practicing the fine arts of Shii-Cho* and Ataru*. There were as complicated as the whole concept of the Force. On numerous occasions his emotions had driven him to incredible reflexes, especially in his line of work, but defining it as some mystical purpose was inconceivable. Even though he did the practices and came to believe the Force it was hard to take it as a serious task. It was just...a hobby.

"Hello?! Starworth where are you? Where the heck are you?" The words ricocheted through the deckhouse as the blue glow of the divine saber radiated in a hum within the darkness. Quickly, as Lamar pressed on the red button, the dangerous illumination was rendered back in the crystals within the durasteel grip. Running over to the lights, he pressed the holoemitter's panel, allowing the connection between to the two frequency's to begin.

"What is it?" Lamar began.

"The target. He should be coming in on a freight ship delivering something to Metellos' upper levels. Follow him and bring him in. You know the deal already."

"Aiight. I'm heading to the cockpit now. I ain't going to lose him if that is whatcha worrying' bout."

"You did last time. Put on a helmet or something. He might recognize you."

"He wont see me. Don't worry!"

The hologram suddenly dispersed as Lamar pressed on the panel. Heading to the cockpit, his face sturdy and concerned, he leered out into the stars. He had been drifting in space for a while now and was enthusiastic at the even slightest taste of action. To phantom that boredom had led him into jumping the Jedi shuttle was somewhat annoying for him. Lamar would rather do business, that way he could avoid such troubling thoughts.

The ship came, he followed. From the beginning things worked to his advantage. The cluttered area at the ship station left him ship to blend in nicely, avoiding any implication at possibly following. All he needed to do was track the guy, and the real business was going to start. Giving out the orders to in a quick bark to the R4 unit, he awaited the system analysis to spark up on the computer. After a moment or two, they did and soon program completely locked onto the frequency. Hopefully the smuggler wouldn't know what was going to hit him.

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Rich and powerful lived on floating cities, amongst the egg droppers and other awkward flying figures. Few took to the lower region, where it became increasingly more inhabitable. Metellos was close to Coruscant in terms of features its structures. The concrete jungle of the lower sectors held the unfortunate. It was far too compact on the planet, packed into the sparse areas where it was livable. Rampant population left everything to the minimum, leaving the "Coruscant that wasn't" clear in difference of wealth in comparison to the Imperial Center.

The ground of the planet seemed like the perfect place to smuggle some items, with more restrictions and regulations providing the target with work. However, a surprised fell upon Lamar's plate, which in itself was astonishing. The smuggler instead slowed to the stop on a platform in the rich grounds above, floating so softly about the sky. Lamar's Nabooian Cruiser project of a ship followed, dropping heavily onto the already weakened foundation.

"Now that was a first kiss," the young Bounty Hunter sarcastically said. Scrambling to his feet, he headed to the cabin and out the ship from the extended ramp. Strolling down, his eyes switched about, carefully examining his newfound surroundings.

"R4, launch those tracking droids from your chest plate. We are going to need them to get a better lock on this guy and what he is doin'. That freight bum ain't gettin' away from me."

Just as the last word dropped from Lamar's mouth, the droids came flying out the already opened doors. A hushed beep came from their antennas as the duo of black, pocket sized tracking droids darted off in two directions after their objective. Lamar didn't follow either. There were more important things to do, like head to the cantina.

"Fizzy-Pop?" The Duros bartender exclaimed, confusingly. It was a refreshing drink, but rarely did anyone in a cantina ask for such things. Few about held the grim facials found in such places as Mos Eisley or Coronet, but none of civilians were straight as an arrow either. When the word traveled throughout the murmured room a few eyes shifted onto Lamar as he leaned casually against the counter.

"Yah, the Fizzy. Ya' know what I'm talking about lumrunner."

An awkward look came upon the Duros, as if anger was creeping into him. Then, as suddenly as he his expression was made, he turned about. The Duros took to dash, leaving Lamar transfixed and perplexed. He soon knew why...

"Looking for me! Mug!" The words pierced Lamar's ears coming from the entrance. Lamar glanced curiously over, finding that it was the smuggler he was tracking. Right behind him were two shattered tracking droids, their shells splattered over the floor like the insides of a vacuum. A snarl formed over the calm definition that once was Lamar's face. Adrenaline fueled the tank of the youth's body as his eyes daggered the 434 blaster in his target's hands. It was a renowned Bounty Hunter weapon...

Struggling to push himself to the floor in evasion, Lamar felt the ache run through his body as the neurons sped through and came to an end when he crashed to the surface. The polished ground allowed for his body to slide toward a nearby chair, but maybe...it was the Force. Opening his pitied eyes, he looked into the face of his enemy. He was an unattractive Red Nikto that held more hate in his eyes then the adolescent could easily handle.

Jumping up the human teenager took to the fly. Impulses and reflexes became all that he could rely on. Reaching deep for his holstered DL-44 Pistol. Pulling it with incredibly speed, he rolled to the ground instinctively, allowing a blast to speed over his rising head. The graces in his movements were uncanny and unparallel by numerous other Bounty Hunters in his league of success. Yet, it was him that allowed it. In the eyes of many viewers he held a talent in evasion, however they were soon to see that his precision wasn't the greatest.

The very firepower of the DL-44 was the most heroic. When pulling back on the trigger, his left eye was pinched in a form of concentration. The shot flew off , even though both his hands stayed tightly along the grip. Clutching harder he shot once more, finally hitting something of worth. The Nikito watched on in complete anger as the dismay continued. Surrounding plates and trophies on the wall fall as it became ever more evident that marksmanship wasn't Lamar's specialty.

However, luck seemed to be. As soon as the Red Nikito readied himself for another blast at his hunter, he fell into a daze as a plate was hit at its edge and took flight toward the supposed smuggler's head.

Diiiiiing!

The Nikto went down like a shot nerf. The superior shooting skills and applause of the presently less cautious commoners kept the young man alive. If he could've enjoyed the results without wet pants it would've been just perfect.

[list=1]
[1]* = Form 1 of the Jedi Lightsaber
[2]* = Form IV [4] of the Lightsaber
[/list=1]

[Lamar Starworth]

Nar Shaddaa

The unforgiving moon of vile, deceit and evil could only been known as Nar Shaddaa. Sadistic commoners walked the streets in parallel with their good, but corrupted, counter-parts of pedestrians. Everyone had been infected by the underworld antics of the moon rulers, the Hutts and Black Sun Vigos. Business running in and out of Nar Shaddaa, no matter if big or small, was a galactic infectious disease. Some left others with flushed, while others were "glittered" up. Smugglers harvested their tales of parades through the stars, while criminals took to hide under the twisted version of Coruscant's worldwide building jungle.

The lower the sectors, the more hatred, scum and destruction one would find. Nothing better personified the true nature than the privacy of a cantina, tavern or pub. The streets were for show, but in a cantina races clashed, factions were commonly revealed and people found out the truth of every species in the galaxy. They all hated each other.

It had been a week of mostly excommunication for Lamar Windfield. The handle of "Starworth" was beginning to get to him as he remained in the stars for what seemed to be months on end. Even though one would become accustom, taking the title of "spacer", it wasn't resonating for the young man. Time was stuffed into consistent connections with his father for annual check-ups and practicing through the repeating video of the "Great Holocron" on the styles and arts of the Force.

He was barley getting anywhere at all. Even as it was seen as a hobby, the actual time and focus was beginning to allow the thought of the Jedi ways tread deeper. The power, the ability, it was an appealing trait. However the codes, thought processes and meaningful, bogus antics were far more than the nephew of a Jedi ever bargained for when grabbing the weird cube off the mantle. Yet, even as his studies seem to be slowing to a near stop he was becoming ever more aware of the Force as well as the past. A few exposing conversations with his father and he was down to the root of what was truly happening.

The Great Holocron had come "supposedly" from his uncle. The tale from his father was that the message came far after his uncle had taken his fall in the beginning of the New Order. During the last moments of the Jedi Order Lamar's uncle had stolen the Great Holocron in hopes of keeping it hidden from any trespassers of the newfound enemy. It worked, but presently it was all new hands that knew nothing about the true essence of it all. It was far too puzzling, using awkward words commonly to describe actions. Piecing together the puzzle was also troubling for someone that always got things so quickly.

Working when not even on a job, it was painful.

"Fix this ship up. No interior problems, just somethin in the engine, so don’t be trying to get inside, eh?" Lamar called out over the ruckus and racket bustling through the "Ship's Garage". It was a nice place to drop one's ship off for full body repairs, yet the friendship he had with some of the employers wasn't always the most loyal. At times he came back from a run on Nar Shaddaa without one of his great tools, so instead of taking the chance he brought the two most important items on his mantle.

Dangling at his waist as he trotted comfortably through the dark streets of the city was his lightsaber, well hidden under his jacket. Within one of his jacket pockets was the "Great Holocron" bulging like a blaster. No one ever, even on a vile planet in the backwaters of space, would go and try and pickpocket a blaster. It was just asking for trouble and only laser brains did that.

"Rimmer's Rest, Rimmer's Rest...." The Force child whispered. His had swung from side to side, the braids banging softly against his shoulders as he peered on the signs. The Rimmer was a popular place, filled with numerous folks that were seedy and normal, down-on-luck grimacers.

When finally stumbling upon it, he quickly headed in. There was business to attend to. If this "hobby" of his was to come any deeper he needed to find a smuggler with information, someone that knew or had heard of a Jedi. Spacers always had an urge to jump on the story boat around them and devour someone's brain and spit it right back out with completely new info. It was the way they told tales about things. At times it was annoying, but sometimes it was actually...informative.

At first glance one would notice the immense diversity and popularity. Aliens and humans alike squeaked and burped at the counters in converstaion. Numerous others filed into booths with comrades, newfound friends or business acquaintances. There was near 100 private booths lined about within the great tavern, ensuring that all types of species could find their stay reasonably comfortable. That was the way of business on Nar Shaddaa. Being comfy wasn't a good trait to find in any drinking establishment. Someone ends up being stupid and ruining the "wrong" persons ease and gets shot. Keeping a low profile, for even a hurt vector.

Heading to the bar, the young man glanced about. His eyes scrunched like the dimmed light had been amplified. It wasn't though, it was dim and that was how a lot of people liked it. Finally dropping his attention back onto the bartender he found that it was a girl. She smiled back at him, her Twi'lek excellence vibrant in the obscured light. Under the bar there was more shine, enough to ensure that it just wasn't a vague imagination. That made the young boy smile.

"What would'ja like paladin prince?" She inquired playfully. A damp smile rose upon her lips after a lip of her lips.

"Just a Coruscant Cooler for now...and maybe anotha' one of those smiles."

She smiled. Often glancing up to catch a stare of approval, she began with dropping the requested drink in a ridged designed, but clean cup. Turning about as he took it, dropping a few credits on the counter, he glanced about the room.

"Lookin' for one of those flarg infochats? They are around, just keep ya eyes peeled..."

[Lamar Starworth]

1 Month Later

The young child of the Force sat in the bowels of the twisted city. His legs lay crossed, ankle on the opposite limb. His arms were preoccupied, in a pray over his chest. Lamar was in a sense of piece, exemplified by his eyes in the darkness of his shut lids. The young man's hair dangled slightly, the beads at the tips softly banging as the winds carried through. Lamar’s lips were a line, which was uncommon for his face was almost always a force of emotion. The young man’s chops kissed at the Force, embracing the cumulated speckles of midchlorian within and without. His mind reached out to all that his adventurous tales and memories knew and erased it all. There was nothing left in the traces and fringes of his existence except a void of nothingness. The word in basic text ricocheted through the walls of his mind. Slowly the word faded and then, in a sudden mist, there was nothing.

This was the aim; this was where Lamar wanted to reach. The first step had been touched with his foot; the second would have to be crawled too. Moments upon moments built and silence emit the grounds about Lamar's seemingly soulless frame. Then, in a sudden shock, a sparkle opened in the boy's imagination. It was...the Force.

As abrupt as the sparkle had come to Lamar's eyes opened. Sweat pressed from his pores as he glanced hesitantly about. He was still there, still in Nar Shaddaa. For that moment which passed he was somewhere else entirely, but in reality he was still in the twisted city that had bound and gage his hopes of finding the others.

"Damn Aqualish" Lamar thought.

It was an Aqualish fault. The Aqualish was young and stupid, a new employee to the Ship Garage who was working on the ship. Apparently, or as they told Lamar, the Aqualish was trying to open the shield generators under the shielding on the top to rework it. Instead a "Dynamic Hammer’s" marking was left, bending the ceiling so deep that it pierced the cabin and broke down the all the circuits of the ship. Needless to say the Aqualish was Lamar's first clean shot. Even though the idiotic alien was shot right near his heart, Lamar paid for the Hospital billing and ensured he lived.

Guilt was Bantha poo.

Jumping to his bare feet, Lamar scanned the room. Under his toes was the comforting Sparian rug that had been given by the "Ship Garage" owner as a gift. The whole place was a gift and he deserved it for what the Aqualish did. Even though the apartment was in the lower sectors, it was to be expected and requested. The farther he was from civilization the easier he could be civilized. Pedestrians on the planet of Nar Shaddaa were vicious animals, with scattered good placed like a puzzle piece for those to call friends.

Friend was a word Lamar could only claim for two other people. Without his R4 unit, which was also destroyed in his project's destruction, he had to venture out and create some sort of relationship. The quickest and easiest one was the Twi'lek in the Rimmer's Rest. She had an eye for him and he had a hope for friendship, it just had to work.

The other, however, he wasn't expecting. Zana Tarkran, a Falleen Smuggler. She was a star in a nebula, a diamond in the rough. Few Falleen ventured off their planet for extended times, however she, a beauty like all the rest of her race, was on Nar Shaddaa with all the vermin of the galaxy. It was an interesting relationship that had expanded from the acquaintance back on the first of Lamar's entrance in the Rimmer's Run. Zana was isolated, as was to be expected from a race of supposed "superiors" and Lamar liked what he saw. In the end Lamar grew on her and in result their conversation ran to a night spawning a relationship.

Two women and one guy, what was he to do?

"When the frell is that girl comin'?" He thought.

It was to be expected. The Twi'lek, Hanel'oree, was known to be jealous one, but also respectful. Ignoring the set time for their arrangement and the one for the Falleen would certainly not bring Hanel'orre out the shadows to create any problems. The disturbance was problematic, even though the easing of the Sparian carpet under his feet seemed to massage his fears away momentarily.

"Only for another second," Lamar whispered to himself, crouching back down onto the rug to relax. It had become easier...easier to reach out to the Force. Even under the criminal oppression and community he had learned to hone himself to a center so to bring it out as the "Great Holocron's" gatekeeper had suggested. The problem however was mental blocks, his imagination always holding back his limitations to even phantom the concept.

This time, however, he was lucky. Jumping up as soon as he sat down, he headed to the apartment door. Quickly pulling it open he watched as the Falleen stumbled into his arms. His cheeks rose in a flush of happiness, his teeth shining under his thinning lips. He was getting good...or at least better.


"W-w-wait? How did you know I'd be here?"

"Doesn't matter, what'd you hear about that hunt I had?"

"Well...Well he isn't a real hunt at all. It was a failed plan to kill you." She began, her lips slanting as she became more uncomfortable. "They said something about you being 'special' and a threat so the Empire sent a Bounty Hunter to fake as a smuggler and kill you."

Silence. It spread across the room as the period fell upon the Falleen's last words. Lamar looked unemotional, though he stared for moments on end into the woman's eyes. He searched, seemingly endless, for some sort of distrust. Deep inside he knew, unfortunately, that she wasn't lying to him. The words that were the Kaminoan dart to his neck were all too true.

Finally, he blinked.

Rustling to his feet, the young man reached out to help his sensual comrade up. He smiled faintly, looking into her vegetated eyes so to blossom slightly. The green of her eyes shook for a moment as water began to bubble within. She knew something was wrong and it was beginning to hurt.

"It'll be alright. I just need to find a way off this planet or at least from the Empire. Know a pla--"

"The Rebellion." Zana quickly interrupted.

"But..."

"But nothing! If you get killed...I...I mean they'll find that I helped you out! It'll bust my case and I could be sleeping with the Jedi."

Lamar frowned. Zana was right, they were the only safe haven. It was troubling to know that his sworn enemies were the only people that could keep him safe. At the first touch of the Holocron Lamar had aligned himself with the Rebellion. Such history as that Jedi or those Force Sensitivity could never be happily intertwined with the Empire, or at least to his own knowledge.

It pained him so, but it had to be done.

"How can I find them?" Lamar said, almost in a murmur.

"Don't worry about that. I'll find them for you, but first we need to get off this planet. Far too many people that might be 'kin' with the Empire that might not like you."

Lamar didn't smile, even though he wanted to. Zana had always been controlling, ever since their first acquaintance. He liked that about her. Grabbing her, he let the smile he held in touch with the serious frown of her own. The two's lips connected, in a surprise fumble. Neither was prepared for the oncoming notion, but as the moments of uneasiness tread off to comfort the fumbling ended.

"You got it locked down, don’t cha," he whispered.

[Lamar Starworth]

Ssszzzmmm

The room was a pit of nothingness. A void of complete darkness, leaving unkowns all about. It was the galaxy, or so it seemed by glance. Everything seemed to be taken motion, but it was just the shadows misguiding one's eye. Lamar stood motionless in the center, his eyes sharpening at the sudden bright, destructive light emitting from the handle in his palm. It was the lightsaber, illuminating the room in all it's blue vibrant shine. For moments it was motionless in the palms of the young man's hands, as his subsided sight took the assistance of teh lightsaber's light to look intently about.

Then, suddenly, a red beam rode from the darkness behind. Abruptly as it came from the unknowns the saber was pulled over head, it's tip pointing to the ground behind Lamar. The young Winfield had blocked it, almost at ease. He was improving in his speed, his reaction time. Quickly turning about, Lamar realized another bolt flying from the nothingness and swished gracefully about swinging the blue blade like a bat.

Ricocheting off the batted saber the bolt flew back from where it came. Yellow and red exploded from in a small package of destruction from the very region the bolt darted from. The blast-droid had taken it's first defeat of the day. Turning about, the lights quickly flashed on, revealing the intense features of Lamar's face. A snarl of focus wrinkled his smooth, light brown skin. About his very being were twenty floating blast-droids, ready to shoot at any moment or flinch. It was imposing.

"Come on," he growled. And they did, taking the command to the core. Numerous red blast flew from their targetting rods. Lamar swung his being about, taking to the tatics of acrobatics. Flipping over a single blaster he twirled his saber diagionally to his side. Slicing the blast droid in all his grace, he watched as the explosion engulfed two nearby blast droids. However, that was the end of his parade through his mechanical adversary.

In an unexpected, destructive series of near harmless, but quick, blast the droids came in a sequence. Some took the explosions forced by ever moving lightsaber's blade, but others hit. The stinging bolts ran their way into the old boy's body. Flapping to the ground, his braids' beads beating contenously against the bottom of his neck and shoulders until he finally dropped to the ground on a knee.

The sequenced end in that moment of hush. All the blast took to a cease, allowing a breather to be attained by the weathered youngling. The snarl that once was, filled with focus, was now of disgust and pain. Blaster-droid's bolting shots weren't meant to harm, but the annoyance of a single hit was far more than the word frustrating could embody. Engrossed in his moment of silence and infurated thought, Lamar didn't notice the entrance into the dull, durasteel walled room.

He was in the storage room.

[Lamar Starworth]

Lamar rose steadily from his kneel. The snarl of focus gradually as he stood formed a smile. Frustration melted off his skin, easily being sunk back into the pores of his sweating frame. The young boy's eyes stared calmly at the ground in thought. A shuffle ran over the youth's clothing as he shifted into steps, letting his head rise in sloth pace as to hold anticipation for his revealed face. He knew exactly who was at the door. The person made him smile always...

"Hey, cutie, whatcha doin' a---"

The words flat lined as the boy gawked at the presence before him. A man stood motionless, leaning against the door's entrance. If it weren’t for his battered Ubese armor there would be a certain exchange of stares. Lamar was in complete shock, left with only discomfort to regulate his motion. His mouth wide in confusion and his eyebrows peaking like the tops of Hoth Mountains he knew not what to say. All he could do was stare, puzzled and with only remnants of sanity maintain his movements, which were none.

Adrenaline from the surprise eroded the dull of the Force sensitive being's frame. His nasal region amplified, taking in the very smells that perfumed the rooming. Under the shut door was a slit, allowing the stench to ride its way into Lamar's nose. A pain and ache twisted the Force adepts face as he gape at the astonishment. Bloody fragrance pressed in the room, strong and horrid. Something was terribly wrong, and there was no need for the newfound abilities of the living to understand that.

"It's time to die! Just as your people destroyed Uba, I will kill you!" The Ubese spat in his foreign tongue.

"What are you ta--"

Again, Lamar was cut off. This time, however, it was by himself. Before his last words could drop from his mouth he took to evasion. A blast zapped past his leaping body, taking to a spin behind one of the nearest crate bins. The storage compartment was filled with numerous assortments beside the comfortable ones. Crates filled with illegal items and monumental amounts of weapons. Even though Lamar was a Bounty Hunter such illegal affairs weren't usually served on his plate, but he had learned to grasp it well with Zana around.

The Falleen smuggler wasn't around anymore. She was the pilot of the ship, taking them to the Core Systems in seek of the Rebels, but the blood. The fragging blood was Zana’s and Lamar knew it all too well as he hid behind the crate.

"Flack, what to do?" Lamar whispered. Once more his voice was riddled with frustration and annoyance. This just wasn't his day.

Twirling about from his kneel, Lamar spun carefully over the crate. Unknowingly, his pant cloth caught onto a small needle a top spice crate. Falling over, he tumbled into the Ubese legs, dropping him instantly. The moment zoomed into picture-by-picture framing. Every second was fractioned, allowing the clean vision of the youth to see. Dust flew from the old storage walls, which hadn't been clean in at least a year or two. Sliding a long it, Lamar took to a dash. It was clear with every stinging bolt that had run its way into his body earlier that his lightsaber skills weren’t any better than his marksmanship. Neither one would be of worthwhile use in a real battle anymore. So instead Lamar took to his reflexes and athletic ability.

Jumping over the fallen Ubese, still struggling to his feet, he kicked at the closest floating battle droid. Pushing it back with the momentum of his feet, he watched as the split second caught the stumbling Ubese get hit in the head by the small droid. Sadly the satisfaction didn't last long at all. Landing down onto his feet a quick blast skinned his thigh leaving him bouncing against the hard steel surface. He slid to a halting stop near the wall, banging against two crates on his path.

The pain of the stinging bolts weren't nearly as comparable to the agony over coming him at that moment. It had been the first time that anything lethal had even touched his skin, besides a few household tools. The sheer surprise itself of the shot was more excruciating than the bolts, but the grit of his teeth did good to hold back the scream growling in his stomach. Snorting in the torment, the Force wielder staggered to his feet. Pushing off the durasteel wall he propelled himself in all the glory of his glazed eyes and fell with all his weight onto the Ubese.

A thud sprung about the room as the two manly frames banged against the ground. The patented snarl of Lamar's rose once more as he slugged himself to the side looking at the cold ceiling. Heaving was all his mind could endure to think about. Heavy breathes in and out left him open, and without a single doubt in his mind he was ready for the blow.

He wasn't in the least.

The fall onto the Ubese had knocked the wind and blaster from its hand, but not the spirit. As Lamar lay with his chest rising up and down in deep swallows of air he caught a quick hook to the ribs. "Anguish" screamed out in the growing adolescent’s mind as his eyes opened two notches. Everything fuzzed in his vision as a well up of tears from his ducts coated his sight. Blinking, the small buckets of wear rested on his long eyelashes as his black orbs peered ahead.

"Stop it." Lamar wheezed.

"DIE!"

It struck again. The Ubese beat senselessly at the boy's ribs as it took to a kneeling over him. Crackling sounds echoed from the inside of the boy's frame as he struggled to slide to the side in hopes of absorbing the blows. Even as the strikes lessened in force it felt as though the affliction couldn't get any worse. Beating away at Lamar's mind was defeat, but his will, his way, his father; his dreams couldn't allow such an idea sit for long. Reaching with all his might he pushed forth with his tightly closed fist.

His straight hit, leaving an uneasy silence peaking into the room. The fist resided deep into the Ubese crotch; it's eyes blinking underneath the masking armor. Then in an abrupt bang the Ubese fell.

Lamar didn't see a single thing of it. He had passed out...

[Lamar Starworth]

Lush vegetation rode across the brown mountains as they erected from the surface deep below, leaving only the clouds to coat the mountain's actual end. Bridges of cities and colonies stretched between the unique mountains loop, leaving civilization to breathe and live between the lush nature of the peaking vegetated elevations. The planet consisted of numerous living, metroplis filled canopys that fell in the seperations of the twirling hills. This was Cato Neimoida, this was where civilization was at it's peak. The abudance of intelligence and economy stood as the strenghts of this land, just as the Neimoidian race that came from it.

That planet was the closest. When Lamar had woken from his unconsciousness he came to find more than just who the blood came from. Beyond demise there was treachary admist, with the control panel tampered with and slices into the computer for information. The amount of internal damage was severe, leaving only a few desintation points in the realm. During the flight, to Lamar's surprise, they had been taken out of hyperspace by one of the Imperial's devices by accident. That was the moment the Ubese Hunter took action. It was fate, or how the "Great Holocron Gatekeeper" decided to call it...The Living Force.

All such thoughts were screwed and mashed together into one conclusion. The ship needed to be landed. It was hard procedure, especially with the stinch of blood soaking his focus. It had come to shock the young lad that it wasn't the Falleen. She wasn't even on the ship. Instead the blood came from a stowaway that had managed to hide herself way in the cargo compartment in the tile. It was a bad choice, but in the end it was all truly Lamar's fault.

Or so he felt it was.

Dropping the spacecraft's acceleration speed, the Force enhanced pilot eased to the cleared docking bay that was given by the operator in the space station. Gracefully falling to a crouch the ship abruptly stopped on the docking platform, leaving the dark brown eyes of the young, confused man to look out from the window. Lamar sighed...

"This is too much."

[Lamar Starworth]

12 and 1/2 months later...

"Sir, I'm heading to my quarters right now."

The young man's voice proudly echoed as he stepped along the polished, black floor. If it wasn't for the dangling, long, beaded braids it would be hard to define the idenity of olive-grey attired man. It was Lamar Starworth, his hand pressed over his chest as he took an abrupt stop to the front of the double-breasted clothed man. The man was an officer, it could be seen in the profound aura, steaming from his white flesh. The black cap on his head even further displayed his respectable status.

Giving the salute, Lamar headed off further down the hallway and into a corridor. The walkway was tiled with in squeeky, black marbled floor. A chuckle rose inside him as his booted feet beat against the surface, giving off a rhythm that reminded him of a great fizz band back at the Mos Eisley Starport on Tatooine. Lamar's walk had changed from the days that he rested in the Outer Rim, his steps were filled with empowering confidence and hands stayed held in a balled fist ready at his side. Stopping at a solid, grey door he pressed in some coding at the nearby palette plastered into the wall. Watching as the room door opened, he peered carefully inside. A cautious nature overwhelmed the features of his face as his eyes poked around the corner of the opened door to investigate. It was only his room, his bed near the wall in all it's wonderful tiddiness.

Everything was as he kept it. The old, dusty lightsaber laid hidden in a small, locked, slice-proof cylinder container under the bed and the Great Holocron was guised as a lamp. It wasn't exactly a normal persons room at the center, but it mattered not. There was rarely anyone that ever came to his room on the base and if they did they were there with him in interest, not scrutinizing. It had been a standard year that passed since his arrival onto the planet of Cato Neimoidia, but much had change around him.

The venture to the planet of Neimoidia for the Rebellion was well contorted by a nature that couldn't be fought off. It had been a dream of his father to see him fall into the comforting hands of the Empire and it came true. Taking to the Imperial Academy on the Carida he was well on his way to becoming what his father always knew he would be. It had become troubling, however, in all the passing time to find himself. Diligence was expected of him from his superiors and time for privacy was very rare, but commonly taking advatange of. Just as the fellow branch he had registered with, he brought in a number of girls from the local city to come on base. Besides such private parties he had taken to his hobby.

No one knew about him but he, and thats how he wanted to keep it.

Jumping onto the bed, he clicked on his datapad, closing the door as quickly as possible. It was time for his private time and it was going to be well spent. Respite was needed, especially after the long day of training he experienced. Few truly know that the snowflakes, as he had found the Rebels called them, were eternally active at working to build a great force of stormtroopers. All sorts of great, presitigous beings had displayed great capabilities during the trainings everyday and Lamar was one of those few bunch.

Many like him took on the challenges, prevailing in their ace shots, or vehicle performences. Their specialities were being awarded vocally over and over, but it was finally drawing to the day that their display of talent would finally showcase itself. A whole lifetime of physical contortation and sheer push for perfection proceeded and finally they were going to be taken onto the field to really show what they could do.

Some, however, dropped out. Their branch wasn't the best, not by a long shot, just a few talented spots. It was to be expected, for the galaxy was filled with great minds, great bodies and some that even had both. The year was hard for everyone, but even harder for Lamar. It was unexpected to be recruited into one of the most feared public branches of Imperials, at least by the eyes of the Rebellion.

No one ever wanted to find themselves looking into the eyes of a stormtrooper in a dark alley. It was even harder, though, to subsiding his Force Sensitivity. Even a simple bleep on the radar could shatter all his chances, all his hopes and dreams...or at least his father's. Yet the steam wasn't from only his father's feelings, for a passion had driven from the bowels of Lamar's soul and finally engrossed itself in the life of an Imperial. They were deserving of defense, the defense that he and numerous other humans a long the galaxy could provide. The Empire had set a world worth living in and the Old Republic was corrupt. That was just how it was.

"Lights off, R8. Wake me about 5 standard hours before the Ceremony begins, alright scrapper."

[Lamar Starworth]

The room was clear...

The halls were clear...

It was the Ceremony. Sounds of celebration rung from the exterior of the base. The landing docks held an enormous vessel, worthy of praise by the best of Engineering schools in the galaxy. Even those completely detatched from the world of ship expertise let out appreciative whistles as the large, black, ominous triangular vessel swooped down from the clouds and let it's legs spring out from under. In silence it sat for a moment until the latch of the door quickly busted open and steps gradually set itself to the tiled floor. The docks setting was no different in style, really, but the lights were certainly brighter. This was a room of prestigious, rarely used.

In this instance it was used for a rarer occasion, a graduation. Faces and faces poked themselves a long the blending of shining white. Every single man, and some few feminine faces, stood attentive in organized lines with their trooper armor's on, with helmets under their arms. Some held different armor, fitted in Space, Snow, Acquatic, Scout and even desert specialized trooper armor. It was to be expected, the rigorous standards of the training scheduling let one's specialities flourish, emerge or be placed on display. Lamar Starworth, being the few of caramel coated skin tone was also a rarity amongst the others. Covered in the bulky Shock Trooper (http://starwarsgalaxies.station.sony.com/images/features/Shock-Trooper-2.jpg) armor he peered carefully forward, awaiting the words from the pedestal above.

A man stood with two esteemed figures beside him. One, dressed in distinguished grey and black blended cloak and double-bressed longsleeve shirt stood. He was the head of the base, deciding the offical measures one would go by. Lamar had come to know him well, with the numerous encounters. They were weird interactions, but always there was a compliment to brighten the eerie conversations. On the other side was the other notable person. In all black with clean badges over his heart was the "Assignment" as the cadets had come to call him. He was what made the Carida Imperial Stormtrooper
Basic Training Program strong. Dicitating the pace, amount and exact, precise way someone did their training left him with the uncanny nickname. No one liked him, not even the brown-nosers, but everyone respected him. He was a typical Imperial.

"You have trained!" The man in middle exclaimed, breaking the lull, but oddly softly. It was as if his words were the knife that cut the bread so easily or last gulp of peko peko milk. There was something about the man's words that was expected and refreshing. No one moved a muscle as he screamed, not even an inch.

"I am the Governor, but you..." He paused there, looking about. His eyes seemingly dropped on the two hundrend man branch of newly graduates. It was weird. "You all are warriors. The face of justice, the face of truth, the face of the Empire."

The man spoke with power, with strength that made him loved across the sector and galaxy for his loyalty to the Empire. Lamar was starting to love him too. Holding tightly to the Shock Trooper helmet he would soon place on in ceremonial fashion, he watched. The sound of his gripping gloves pressing against the inside of the helm eased in his ear in a ear-twitching twist. Lamar liked it. Everything seemed to personify graduation at this moment and he could do nothing to but take in the situation with content.

"Before you I stand in hopes of giving you what I know you deserve. These men have provided you with a path, now you must step. The mile of a journey to freedom starts with a single notion and with the clicking of those helmets to your head, you will take that step!"

His last word roared, giving the thumb for a louder response from the auidence. The large fleet of humans pulled their helmets to their head, pressing down. It was then that the clicks could be heard, echoing through the slowly building silence after the man's words. Smiles couldn't be seen, but they were there under everyone's lid. The insides of every single bucket yelled in a whisper of complete glee as their "Assignment's" hands swung up and gave the memorable two finger point forward. A single trot hit the polished surface in a sequence. The feet called at the sky, because soon they would be heading there.

Lamar stepped with them all. He trotted with near perfection with the line, heading closer and closer to the black vessel which would take them to their last stop above planet where they would be assigned. This was it, this was the beginning.

"Soilder, please step aside."

The beads of the youth's braids inside the shocktrooper helmet shook as he turned his head. A dark tint layered over the visor as the adolscent warrior looked at the base director's face. The ominous taste bittered the young man's tongue as he swallowed the moment and stepped aside from the line, allowing another man to fill in his place. Lamar swiftly threw up his hand up to the tip of his helmet, saluting the superior officer. At that moment Lamar wondered if Rebels had the decency to do such things, but such a thought quickly blew like the wind that rush through form the hangar door opening. The vessel was going to be soon setting off as more and more troopers headed in.

"Sir, what is it?"

"It's you. We know about you..."

"What do you mean, sir?"

"We've always known. Ever since the first testing."

"I dont know what your talking about, sir. You said I passed the testing with ease."

"The council decided we wanted to see what you would do. What were your motives."

The hands were back at their sides. Fisted and ready to strike. Lamar was becoming infurated, but it was cascaded by the sweat that ran in beads the size of cu pa down his face. If it wasn't for the helmet, it would've been clearly known, but the studies over the year had ensured his stature was always confident. That was the "Assignment's" fault.

"I still dont know what you mean, sir?"

"We know that your Force-Se--"

It was a moment of sheer silence. The words blasted like the radio signal of his mind had been turned to the perfect dial. Every snare, bass and vinyl crinkled within the mask. The increasingly erratic beating of his heart pumped on, beating against his chest leaving an echo to be heard only inside of his body. The sound, the beating, everything seemed to hurt and the acceleration left the moment in a picture. Frame by frame it went on, like a broken signal from a holovid. The lag hurt his eyes, his brain, even his skin. Lamar hated the intensity as the statement slowed and he watched carefully with widened eyes and arched eyebrows the mouthing of the coming words.

Lamar was scared.

BOOM!!!

Red and orange hue painted the scenery. Everything about exploded, leaving the interruption of the Director's words to be coated over in unbearable and misunderstandable loud sounds. It blasted, breaking the radio signaling that had casted over Lamar's brain, leaving him to draw to the instincts. Bending and crouching, he kneeled covering where his ear's would be only to feel the cold of his helmet's sides. Sprawling over the even cooler, tiled surface Lamar peered through the dark tint of his sensors to see the vessel torn to pieces with a pocket of remnants in the same position as he before the ashes.

"Rebels! An Attack!!!" The words fired like a blaster bolt throught he onslaught of aching screams, breaking durasteel and fearful calls. Lamar quickly moved his head, looking over to the door where one of the new cadets that Lamar had come accounted with stood calling out. He only a few standard Coruscant months earlier than the newly graduating trooper, but they felt like twins. Jikrin Finmin was his name. A profound one, yet it was hard to see him as anything other than a name and a face when in fear.

Leaping to his feet, Lamar grabbed at the nearest body. The battlefield training was finally coming in hand as the "Assignment" had always said it would. Yet he couldn't find the face of that infamous man. He had died in the wreckage of the vessel, but it was hard to even comprehend the sheer mangitude even in the moment of being within it. Dragging the frail figure over his shoulder Lamar trotted with numerous others around and between the blown, roasted materials of the once gigantic black vessel.

Heading through the door, he sped through the hallway after dropping the body in Jikrin's hands. Lamar kept going, bursting through the lobby and back again through another passageway. Over a year of studying and training the schematics of the building had become far too easy to remember. Even as the sweat kept trickling down his face in the chilled suit he went gracefully through. Sliding to a stop within the corridor he pressed in the numbers on the pad and entered the room. It was expected of the Imperial under branch to clean it out and ship it after the ceremony but this situation called for a different ending.

Pulling at the cylinder under the bed and quickly swinging his hand at the datapad he dashed off. This was it, the last dash, the ditch. Pressing in the coordinates on his datapad he ran from the room and closed it. He kept on and on until it was dark, until he was gone. It wasn't going to be the last time he ran, but it was certainly going down as the worst.

"Emperor's Black Bones! Why does this kind of stuff happen to me!"






The End

[OOC: This didn't destroy the base, but some of it and was not an organized Galatic Rebellion. Instead it was a Plantery strike. Conveintly the records of Lamar having a high midiclorohian count were erased during the bombing.]