Rebirth: Getting Back Up (Alif)

[Terran Starek]

“That seems a bit much,” the man spoke gently, though confidently. The tone of his voice was the kind of tone that hinted at an inner strength. It wasn’t a boisterous tone, and it wasn’t threatening. Entrenched within it, though, was a kind of power. It wasn’t the sort of power shown by muscles and blasters. There was something wise about it. Something careful.

Standing at an average height, Terran Starek was of average build. His Corellian ethnicity was evident in his very human features – from his dirty blonde hair to his deep green eyes. He was dressed in dark colors – black, deep browns and greens – in nothing more than traveler’s attire. An old, beaten Bantha-hide pack was slung across his back. If he wasn’t wearing it so practically one could take it for some sort of antique.

Nothing stood out about Terran except for his eyes. No matter how hard he tried to guard himself, his penetrating eyes were always his most easily noted feature. Once, some time ago, they had been full of warmth, love, and kindness. Now, in contrast, his eyes were careful, studying, suspicious. It wasn’t his choice – it was the way it had to be. The days of laughing and joy had been over for quite awhile.

It had been years now since the fall of the Republic and the destruction of the Jedi Temple at the time of the Great Purge. When he remembered those times, desperation washed over him. So, so many died. So, so many perished due to the forces of hate. So, so many of his . . . friends. He, too, was a Jedi of the Greater Jedi Order. He was a Jedi Padawan, late in his training in preparation of Knighthood, when everything was stripped away from him. Somehow, by the Force, he survived.

His memory of the events was still blurry. Fire. Burning. Screams. Then, a ship – something to guide him to safety. It was damaged, crash landing into the forests of a nearby planet named Altarrn. He escaped with four others – he was the only to survived the landing. Living among the jungle until he regained his strength, he returned to civilization to face a new galaxy. The hatred towards the Jedi – the burning, hateful anger – was unbelievable. It was more than he could have ever imagined.

But he still had hope. He hoped that there were more, more out there just like him. More who had survived – by the will of the Force. It was much too risky to search out in the open, and it would take time. So, for his safety and the safety of his cause, he buried his robes and lightsaber (Halcyon) with the bodies of his compatriots. If he was captured, caught, or ever jeopardized, no one should know his true identity. Terran Starek died in the jungles of Altarrn. Arik Illian was born.

"Grin'daba don-ae." Take it or leave it. The Kaleesh were shrewd negotiators, nearly as shrewd as the Hutts or Toydarians. This Kaleesh's name was Duball, though he hadn't mentioned it to Terran. He was short and stubby (especially for a Kaleesh) and by the way in which he hobbled it was obvious that he was crippled. Perhaps he had once been a warrior or a soldier or renowned merchant - that, Terran did not know. There was violence in his past and painful memories lurking behind his eyes.

Now, he was just a simple merchant. He was a peddler, showcasing his wares here at the tourist village of Bwonswobble, just a few kilometers south of Shrupak, one of the greatest landmarks on the planet of Kalee. Terran had come to the temple in search of . . . something. Maybe he was drawn to some remnant of the Jedi, maybe he was drawn by something else. The Force had guided him here, and he was not one to contradict its will.

His pilgrimage to Shrupak was fruitful. He didn't really find any answers to the plethora of questions he carried within his heart, but he did find solace. He found peace for the first time in a long time. He was able to relax, put his back to the door and enjoy the nature that had overgrown Shrupak's deep brown walls. Now, like all sojourns, it was time to move on.

“Fine, I’ll take it.” Terran smiled. It was no use bargaining with this merchant. He drew a few dirty, chipped credit chips from his back to pay for the trinket. Afterall, when one visited the Shapkur, it was assumed that one would be buying a souvenir. This particular statue-ette was made from Giana wood and was a model of the temple itself. Terran liked textured objects like this. You could touch it, taste it, smell it – unlike the holocrons and datapads of the civilized world. He held the soft carving in his hand, examining the textures with both his fingers and his eyes. The steps led to the great mouth of Shapkur, where the temple met—

kkkkkkkkkKKKAAAAAA – BOOOOOOOOOM!

The entire village shuddered a bit under the impact. Even Terran felt his footing stagger as the collision sounded. Surprisingly, Terran was not shaken. He turned swiftly to identify the cause, but could not see past the small, brick and grass houses and streetways. He craned his next to see as Duball seemed to be doing the same.

You can’t care about this, he thought. You can’t take action – this isn’t your fight anymore. Something inside of him was fighting the instinct to help. It was too dangerous to get involved. Force only knew what had caused this commotion, but it surely wasn’t going to be good. Not only that, but any attempt to help or get involved would surely be noticed. He didn’t need that attention. The instinct to turn and walk away, to ignore his surroundings was fighting as hard as it could.

Unfortunately, the instinct to help was winning.

Nodding to Duball, he packed his statue away, turning his attention instead to the cause of such a ruckus. His steps picked up as he began to navigate the crowd of onlookers who were curiously moving in the same direction as he was. The street was made of dirt and broken bits of stone to form a sort of muddy, but gravel-like road. His boots dug harder and harder into the mud as he could see smoke up ahead. Something inside of him was coming alive as he rushed to the scene.

He only hoped he was prepared for whatever was around the next corner.

[Alif Selelsh]

Roar of an engine thrust through the dense, lush green. Vegetation submitted to the will of sped, as natural and mechanical met in an thrash assembly. Brush of leaves kicked under into a minuscule whirlwind, but soon was caste back to the homely surface in a blow the wind. The device zipped through, sending auburn and jade into a blurred stir. Admix the jumbled vision sat an intent being. Decisive elements wrenched at the figure's two orbs as his furry head leaned forward.

Caamasi weren't renown for their wildness, but Alif Selelsh was unlike many from his bundle. An enlightened path sent him down the bound of crimson, instead of the light of neutrality. Tranquility rarely gathered in his face or eye. Far too much carnage had set foot before him for him to stand with ease. An operative of the calmest nature, but most rash mind--he was a Caamasi of stark contrast.

Alif sent a fiery through the engine as he twisted his wrist, leaving the blasted speeder bike into another jolt. Behind clamor one on response, the engines chit-chatting over the lull forestry. Angst wrestled the hush into compliance, leaving the atmosphere for it to control. Twist and turns continued Alif speedy voyage through the numerous venues of the habitat. On his rear remained the bronze model, with a Scoutrooper as it's company.

The Empire was prepared to take the Alliance operative down in an instant.

"No way...no way."

Far too many times Alif had swallowed the business end of a sword. Never before would he fall on in pleasure of another, so without heed he sent the vehicle into an acrobatic affair. Display of accuracy and ace precision persisted the speeder into a sharp turn that his follower could not follow. Smoke perfumed the air, dampened by demise. Once more the intellect overcame brute strength and determination.

There was no way he could lose to a stupid bucket head. Not Alif. No. Alif Selelsh was invincible...

And then it happened.

[Terran Starek]

As he drew near the source of concern, Terran felt distress wash over him. It was the Force calling out to him - something wasn't right ahead. He hadn't felt this feeling for quite some time. In hiding, the only real sensation had been his surroundings - the trees, the animals, other sentient beings. Here, however, was something else . . . a struggle . . . someone was hurt.

The crowd was already thick, nearly as thick as the plume of black and grey smoke that stretched out into the sky just a few yards away from him. The Kaleesh were curious folk, and he could hear them chatting nervously in their native tongue. What is all of this? Who are these people? In our village? How dare they jepoardize the Shrupak! Terran tried to listen as he pushed towards the accident, but it was difficult to decipher all of the many voices in the packed crowd. One word did stick out: Empire.

Finally, as he reached the edge of the commotion, he laid his eyes on what he thought was the main event. The scene was ugly - what appeared to be the leftovers of a two speeder bikes lay in a twisted pile of metal and charred duraplastic. From the markings in the ground and the positioning of the wreckage, Terran deduced that the speeder bikes had t-boned a large, metal and wooden water-wagon - an old Kaleesh hovervehicle that carried large ammounts of water from place to place. The wagon had been severly dented and split at the seams.

Where the was wreckage, there were always pilots.

The hatch of the water-wagon was cracked, and the driver was slowly coming out of the cockpit as some of the onlookers helped him. His head had a stripe of noticeable red on it, but he looked coherent and aware.

To the right of the wreckage Terran's eyes fell on the twisted, mangled body of something increasingly common these days: a Stormtrooper. It was coming together now. He looked back to the speeder - the body had a burnt but still legible Imperial insignia painted on the side. The stormtrooper was laying the way only a lifeless body laid, and Terran sensed that he had no life singature. There was another, however.

To the left, in a pile canvas and wood that looked like it used to be a merchant's hut, lay another body. This one, however, was far from lifeless. He could see the legs writhing. Terran wasn't able to stand by while someone was hurting, and he instinctively jogged over to where the pilot lay.

Coming closer, Terran realized that this pilot was no ordinary pilot - he was a Caamasi. Years of study at the Jedi Order had given the Jedi a working knowledge of race, culture, and language. Terran squatted in front of the Caamasi, examinig his face. A trace of blood had left the corner of his mouth, but it was evident that his wits were about him.

"I'm a friend," Terran told the Caamasi softly. It was a warm tone, but a practical one, identifying Terran as an immediate ally. "Are you ok?"

[Alif Selelsh]

Pain.

The word crinkled through the depths of the once exuberant Caamasi frame. Adrenaline had came to a sudden pinpoint of change, diverting through the necessary points to keep him in existence. An agony pinched at his heart as he lay on the surface, his eyes attempting to capture the world in whole. Accidents did not happened, they never could afford to happened. There was no reassurance that the first assistance would be unwarranted. An Imperial never granted the love that a disgruntle citizen could.

Below his eyes lay a crooked speeder bike. The husk had been severely dent, tormented and tortured into a new frame altogether. Nothing seemed ever recognizable about his formidable tool. Fragments of the vehicle sparkled the surface below him, the repulsor lift long given away under the pressure of contact.

Behind the clamor of his hectic mind, Alif heard the foreign words of the land. Only a day previous he was surrounded by the turmoil of voices much similar, but the angst that tormented their tones cause him to be uneasy. However, there was no room to lay or move. Pressed in a perplex bent, his body ached as the foreign trickle of crimson tainted the fur about his mouth.

Hopefully it was just busted chops instead of internal bleeding.

Finally his mind caught itself, submitting to hope and possibility of tranquility. Everything had gone far too fast for even his alien reflexes to respond. There was no reply for this now, and the only comfort he had was a voice. Alif could barley lift his head, his keen eyes doing the rest. Such remedial task had become hardy labor in only seconds.

How only a simple move could turn one's life upside down.

"Friend?" A grogginess swallowed his voice, leaving it smothered in a rasp. Soldiers and operatives positioned as underlings always commented he spoke with an ease, a mannerism so soothing and smooth that it disregarded his determined nature.

How only a moment changed it all.

"Friend...friend," Alif's voice dropped into a muse. He questioned the word, and his eyes did as well. Still, with the respect of that only a warrior could exude, he kept his eyes on the mysterious man. It was hard to focus, but what the Rebel caught were two green gems staring back at him.

Finally he felt at ease.

"I'm fine. I'm fine," and not another word was spared before he took his newfound friends help for granted. Grabbing onto the man's hand he heaved himself from the wreckage. The bend of his legs went back into a voluntary stance, but they remained weak. Even an unassisted step could send him back into a tremble to the mud-ridden floor.

"Ay, can ya help me through this crowd...friend?"

[Terran Starek]

"Certainly," Terran replied, taking hold of the Caamasi's arm to help him walk. It was clear that the pilot was struggling with each step. No doubt, he was severely bruised if not worse. Regardless, he was still able to see, respond, and walk, which was enough to get him to some medical care. Terran reached out ever so softly into the Force, allowing it to flow through his hands and into the Caamasi's arm. Is wasn't much, but it was enough to ease the pain.

"This pilot needs help. Can anyone direct us to the nearest doctor?" Terran called out to the crowd in basic, hoping that someone would understand. Although he could understanding basic Kaleesh, he could not speak it. "A doctor? Anyone?"

Finally, one the locals shouted out the directions to a doctor nearby. Terran turned and began to walk the Caamasi in the right direction.

"My name is Arik," he said as they escaped the curious onlookers and made their way down another rugged, winding, muddy street. "I assume that you have one to." He smiled.

"I don't know what you were doing speeding through this little old village, but I have feeling you weren't racing for fun. Not to mention that you had a very high profile opponent," Terran noted the fact that the Caamasi's pursuer was a Stormtrooper. It was in that moment that he felt a hint of something come across the back of his neck. It was . . . it was . . . danger. Danger. Something was wrong, and he and this Caamasi were in danger.

As if on cue, the sound of more speederbikes clouded the village square that they had just been standing in. Terran didn't want to stop to find out who their pilots were. Instead, he picked up the pace of their walk.

[Alif Selelsh]

Alif smirked.

The man had supplied help that few would. Even a dying man would not gain a hand in the day of the Galactic Civil War. The Caamasi could not afford to be suspicious either, so he wield the man with his spirit. Health had became less of an ensue as they tread forth through the mud.

Clumps of dirt clasp the bottom of his boots as he linger at the man's side. Grumble of noise escaped the Caamasi's earshot as they left the field of onlookers. Despite his allegiance to the Alliance, the people of the galaxy bid on his patience. Rarely did people hold concern and courtesy that the man beside him. If it wasn't for the friend he would be alone, instilled in the dirt, awaiting the next strike.

And so the next strike came.

The danger hummed in the air. Kaleesh sparsely merit such advance technology daily, and the murmur of engine claimed the word discomfort in such locations. Kalee was a calm land, once ravaged by poverty and war. Times had changed and battle was a realm they rather not enter, nor would it's visitors.

"The name's Alif," the brown snout lifted, his jaw moving rapid ally to shoot out the words. The operative's hand gripped tightly to the assistance's soldier, pushing his weight forward toward the trail to the doctor's office.

Swiftly they motioned around a corner out of the eyes of the following pilots.

"Imperials. Unsafe. We gotta move it."

[Terran Starek]

"Imperials." Terran's voice shifted from relaxed to serious. The last time he had encountered Imperials was . . . there was no time for remembering right now - only time to move. He could sense the urgency in Alif's voice.

If Alif was being chased by Imperials, it meant only one of three things. First, considering that his ethnicity was Caamasi and thus 'alien' to their ranks, they could be seeking to enslave him. Terran had heard terrible stories of their slave trade. Second, perhaps Alif was a criminal. If so, he was avoiding punishment. Terran wasn't sure how to feel about this option. But he'd seen what kind of criminals Stormtroopers could be . . .

Third, they were seeking him for some other reason. Perhaps he was a desserter. Perhaps he was a key witness in a high profile trial. Perhaps he was . . .surely not. Not out here? What would a Rebel be doing on Kaleesh?

"Alif," Terran said, pulling the Caamasi in a different direction then the doctor's. They were heading north, to the outskirts of town. Ahead of them, the village left off abruptly for lush, thick forest. "You have to trust me. I know where we can go. There's a place, where we can be safe." Terran nodded towards the woods. "It's not far from here, and we can lose our tail in these woods."

"But first." Terran stopped. He needed certainty. "I need to know why they are after you." Terran's eyes were sharp, penetrating into Alif's. His voice was calm, but firm. It commanded careful consideration. He positioned his body in front of the Caamasi's, a nonviolent way of saying, We're not going anywhere until you answer me.

[Alif Selelsh]

An intent fell into the Caamasi's eyes. The man had taken a stand, but his eyes herald a strained seriousness. He was certainly calm in his manner, but there was no certainty that he would stay that way.

Before Alif tread any further into the trails of conversations, he weighed the trials. There were numerous response to the truth. Problems could stir from his occupation and lifestyle. Already he had delved into perils that had sent off into the Outer Rim on Kaleesh. So much could happened from the significance of allegiance.

However, Alif saw many eyes through his profession. The tide of battle allowed very few contact between Stormtrooper, but as an operative missions had sent him through a batch of beings. Some were bad fruits, while other were sweet.

This man's were true.

A smile parted underneath the Caamasi's snout as he pocketed his hands. Bits of lint pressed over a wallet and few other objects.

"A Rebel.

Now, lets get going!"

[Terran Starek]

Terran didn't let his relief show, although he was certainly pleased. His heart skipped a beat. One step closer, Terran. He reminded himself, however, that the important thing in this moment wasn't his personal quest, but the safety of himself and this Rebel.

Force, this feels good! He almost smiled as the adventure continued, remembering how much he missed having a real purpose. The Caamasi trusted him, and it was time to lead as he had always been born to do. He was a Jedi Knight, and leadership was literally programmed into his blood.

"Good," he replied. He gave the Caamasi a wry smile. "I wouldn't want to harbor anything less than an enemy of the Empire." With that, Terran snapped back around to help Alif into the woods.

The troopers would surely gather from the crowd that Terran and Alif were headed to the town doctor. That would buy them a few extra moments. After that, the squadron would fan out and eventually discover their exit. Again, that would take some time, which would buy them a couple more moments. They plunged into the woods, their pace fairly quick for someone as injured as Alif. Surely the Force was aiding them.

"About two kilometers ahead is a monastery, a sect of monks who worship at Shrupak." Terran spoke between short breaths as they navigated the difficult terrain. "They are called the Quellans, and they are a peaceful lot. I spent the last day and a half with them."

Alif nearly tripped as a large log cracked him in an injured leg. Terran helped the stumbling Rebel up, and he persistently continued. This Caamasi was a strong one, Terran thought.

"The good news is, they aren't freindly towards the Empire. They believe in peace and harmony, not conquest. Also, the Empire is forbidden from 'official business' on the Shrupak site. Is it concerned extrememly holy and would be a desecration." They pushed past a few low branches and fought forward.

"The bad news is, there may not be a way out. I can't be sure of that." He was sure of the direction the Force was taking them. "So Alif, what brings you to Kaleesh?" Terran figured they had a moment to talk.

[Alif Selelsh]

"Forbidden"

Alif mused at the word, his mind thumbing over it as he continued on. Even as Arik went on. On his tongue rested conversation, but disdain stained the Caamasi's face. Disturbed by the very word, he felt an urge to expel into combat. Forbidden was a word that he had penetrated numerous times. Through the tide of the Empire, he surfed above and triumph over forbidden grounds many times.

Forbidden was a useless word. He didn't like it. Especially in the context of the Galactic Empire. They were not to be trusted. Anything forbidden to them was a welcome mat when necessary. Just made the Caamasi all the more uneasy as he persisted further.

Despite his wrecked mind, and fatigue body, his ears were still useful. The purpose of the conversation did not stray in the array of thoughts and juggle of motion, so he was secure in his response. There was no fault in any of his motion, despite his limp and supported hug to his assistance's hold.

"Escape. Same reason I crashed. Tried getting away from those boys in white in space, just didn't work.

They are a determined buncha bucket heads."

Across his face formed a smirk as they treaded on. Through the brush of vegetation lay a trail in the mud. They were all too close to the land he spoke of. They would eventually be there soon. Logs, twigs and other natural landmarks impressed themselves into his mind. They would be purposeful traits for further notice.

Under the compressed hold of the Empire, there was always room to think. And thinking was the strongest weapon against the Imperial's unjust rule.

[Terran Starek]

Even though it was late afternoon, the forest dimmed the sunlight. Spindling chutes of sunlight broke through the branches and leaves around them, forming bullet paths of dusty flashlight beams.

"It seems like everyone is trying to get away from those "bucketheads" nowadays," Terran chuckled as they continued. "I won't pursue your business any further. I understand the nature of Rebellion business." He stopped there, realizing that he didn't need to give away any more about his past than he needed to.

The ruckus behind them hadn't caught up yet, which was fortunate. It was instead a new sound that was coming to Terran's ears. The sounds of muffled voices, not loud, but consistent. The monastery was close, and Terran finally realized that they had been pushing through the woods now for several minutes.

"Up ahead," Terran said. "Do you hear that?" The voices became more clear - a quiet chant. Finally, breaking the trees, they lied eyes on the small, archaic fortress that housed the Quellans.

[Alif Selelsh]

Kaleesh were a unique being. The dark sun above supplied heat that was at times overwhelming. Tides of heat swept over the land frequently, spindling a fiber of lethal sun ray that the Kalee's natives could not handle without proper attire. Across their bodies came the wrappings, tampering the sun rays from penetarting them with their deadly darts of heat.

Behind the mask that clasped their face nestled a face that few outside of their species had seen. Even the Caamasi did not carry such ritual behavior in their culture, but Alif understood. Time and time again he found himself on foreign worlds. The exotic treasures were never the landmarks as the Empire had seen, but the oblique views of the world and perception. People gave all the treasuary that the confident furry man could carry.

Experiences shook his head, but the moment rampaged his eyes. He tried desperately to find contrast, but nothing seemed so original. Chants of unknown words, and mysterious motions send the whirlwind of beings into a sped dance for spells. Unseen magic fiddled with their beings as they stared upon a statue of the undeniably beautiful Kalee fortune. Nature was an alluring object that no metroplis could mirror.

Coruscant never was Alif's favor place to be. Even after one got over the glits and glamor, along with the coated darkness from the Empire's shroud, there was nothing to be seen. Nothing at all.

"This is where we will be?"

Alif lifted his eyes over to Arik. An curiousity peaked in his slit lids.

"Wait, what are you doing here on Kalee?"

[Terran Starek]

Terran was taken back by his inquiry. Up until now, he was doing all of the questioning. He reckoned it was Alif's turn, and he wasn't going to break the delicate trust that was there by giving hhim the cold shoulder.

"I'm somewhat of an . . . historian, if you will. A collector." He studied the ritual that was taking place ahead. Several Kaleesh monks were gathered before a great statue - it was Promoniat, the Kaleesh god of nature. Promoniat was believed to be the creator of everything living as well as the sanctuary for the needy.

"I enjoy visiting historical sites of interest and studying culture. I used to study and teach at an institute of learning." It was only half-a-lie. Terran was a historian and was always intrigued by history. However, he didn't expose his entire story because it wasn't necessary. It wasn't that he didn't trust Alif, but no one could know his true identity. Not yet.

"Watch," Terran said as they slowed before the ritual. Two of the monks were bowed before the statue, hands outstretched. Another two were behind the first two, hands stretched downward. A handful of monks were dancing - ever so slowly in a circle - around the statue, peacefully.

"Come, but be quiet - we don't want to interupt." He smiled at the ritual. It was a beautiful celebration of culture. Alif was careful to observe as well, and Terran sensed that he was actually interested. Rare for a pilot. Probably more rare for a Rebel pilot. "The entrance is this way."

[Alif Selelsh]

Knowledge was power.

Alif had capture the frame of movements in his mind. One day he would learn more, but today would hold far different priorities. Finding a way out of the situation seemed to be the best choice, and there was only a few places to call.

"Interesting..."

The calm Caamasi watched on, his eyes peaking over his shoulder as he stepped down the entrance behind Arik. A sigh wrestled it's way from his lungs, his snout pressed out in thought. Much had changed over a course of moments. He had to retrace before he could proceed.

There was one thing that required no thinking, and that was walking...or limping. A step reminded him that no remedy had relieved his leg from it's anguish, and all he could offer the pain was a grimace of condolence.

Step after step, he persisted through, his hand pushed along the wall nearby.

"Historian, aye? And your helping a Rebel?

Whats the deal. The Empire suddenly stop giving the big credit bundles to you guys anymore?"

[Terran Starek]

Terran chuckled. Alif had a good sense of humor.

"The only concern with History that the Empire has is burning and rewrtiting it," Terran replied. "I got sick of the pressures to teach what they they wanted me to teach. I set out to experience a little history myself. A bit of an indefinite vacation."

The great gates of the monastery were an old, old kind of metal - defintely not durasteel. Covered in thousands of years of rust a few pesky, persistent vines, they stood at least ten meters tall. They were nearly as wide as they were tall. Fortunately, they were wide open to pilgrims and visitors.

"These gates lead into the courtyard of the monastery, the bailey. Just to the west here are the Archmonk's quarters." Terran lead his friend through the gates and towards the Archmonk's door. The bailey was dotted with statues of all kinds - some of Promoniat, some of other demigods and fairies. Terran's gaze fell on two Kaleesh pilgrims that were praying at the foot of one of the statues. They were so peaceful - the Force was reaching them, even if they didn't know it.

Terran breathed in the life here.

"Rennowa ka'nooa ti." You are back, friend. The voice was gruff, but not intimidating. It was inviting. It was the Archmonk, Brother Tuuk. He stood ridiculously tall - towering over both Terran and Alif. His long green robes were quaint but sturdy, woven roughspun hide and silk.

"Indeed. We've come seeking shelter. We're . . . in trouble." Terran gestured to Alif, who was still visibly limping. "We aren't safe anywhere else but here. Would you take us in until we can recover?" Terran's alternative motive was until they could wait out this pursuit.

Within the slits of his Kaleesh mask, Brother Tuuk's eyes narrowed. He trusted Terran, but he could smell a problem when he saw one. It wasn't hard distinguish the odd "Historian" and the Rebel to understand the source of their "danger."

"It is the will of Promoniat if you are finding us here. You, Arik, are being a friend to these brothers. You may be staying here for one moon, to resting your friend. Come to get healing." Brother Tuuk spoke in broken basic, but he was coherent.

Terran looked at Alif as two servants bowed before them to show them the way to some medical care.

[Alif Selelsh]

Formalities were a phenom the Rebellion life did not offer. Under the causalities, operation and labor as an Alliance member his crusades never tour formal affairs. The basic in and out of situation bare him life, reason and purpose. Without the basics there was no chance for Alif to breathe, especially in the face of battle. So as the two servants trickled into the room, he looked upon them with inquisitive eyes. Much to respects of his expression, his mind stormed with a query.

However, he kept it at bay.

Questions may leave seeds of disrespect, and with his quiet entrance there was no need to be hypocritical. Led into a different room, the medical work began. Laid across an uncomfortable bed in one of the odd, cold chambers, he stared up at the ceiling. The chill of the room sent his hairs into a stand, but his outstanding resilience left only a grumble in response.

Complaining was disrespectful as well.

A wrong step could be send the whole operation down the drain. Vacuum of space was one thing, but traveling the thin rope of right and wrong with unusual people left him at an uneasy discomfort. Misunderstandings could fault him everywhere, especially in the usage of basic of the Caamasi language.

These people weren't very seasoned in the ways against, or with the Rebel from the looks of it. Maybe they were, but Alif could not be sure. He kept his true idenity concealed as the questions spilled over in their broken Basic as the medical affairs continued.

Only mere minutes jumbled over, but Alif felt as if a lifetime had passed. Readily motions thrived the room from it's chill to a bustle of labor. His foot was good enough to heal, but standing on it for extended time would not help. From the inspection, it was a sprain and only a bit of wrapping would do the trick.

Resilient and sturdy, the Caamasi flung himself from the solitude within the chambers and found his way back to Arik. The newfound friend was only purpose he could find casual in the monastery. All of them seem very nice, but very interesting.

"Dren, this place is weird."

[Terran Starek]

As Alif was taken away for medical attention, Terran let out a sigh. Even though he was blessed to have this sanctuary, he knew that it wouldn't last long. The Imperials would surely have the forest covered and this monastery discovered in no time. Whether or not sacred cultural norms or laws forbade the Imperials from entering would be of little use when they showed up at the front gates.

For now, he strolled down the hall (an open, airy balcony overlooking the bailey), thumbing the carved statuette of Shrupak. He was bitting his bottom lip, a tick he had that seemed to surface when he was thinking about something carefully. Just then, Brother Tuuk reemerged, his great figure shadowing half of the open hall.

"Wenowah don sum-ae innah-doo-uh. Iniwala koo." I regret to see you again. Trouble follows. Brother Tuuk was calm, his voice softened.

"Forgive me, friend. I had no choice." Terran looked up to meet the Archmonk's eyes. "I wouldn't have come here if there was another way."

"Inada, inada. Sun, gohnara bonada insoo-e-o. Gohnara bonada Promoniat." Indeed, indeed. But, you were drawn here by the stars. You were drawn here by Promoniat.

"You see her hand?" Terran smiled. The Force had many names. The Jedi and the Sith were not the only ones to call on it. "We need your help. We need a way out of here."

"Ahhhhh," the Arhmonk drew a long, strong hand to his temple to rub it. "Unoa de yoni, tuada gjina tyatta. Omora tu girun chakada. Omora tu sirida kalaha." Because of your deeds here, you have become honored. We will help you. We will give you kalaha." Terran did not know the Kaleesh word kalaha.

"Kahala?" He asked inquisitively, to show that he didn't understand.

"Ka-la-ha. Kalaha. Kalaha is "ship." Brother Tuuk was a teacher at heart. "Omora tu sirida kalaha." We will give you our ship. Brother Tuuk smiled, as he could certainly see the relief on Terran's face. He put a large hand on Terran's shoulder and turned to walk away.

Terran's deeds had been an act of the Force. He had arrived here a day ago to visit Shrupak. When he arrived, a "demon" fell upon the monastery and began to attack the brothers. It was a jungle cat, a particularly large one, that had gone mad with bantha fever. Terran subdued it using the Force and drove it away. So, the brothers hailed him as sent from Promoniat.

"Thank you," he replied softly after the Kaleesh. It was just then that Alif emerged from around the corner. He was walking much more steadily - limping, but his foot was now supported.

"Dren, this place is weird."

"A strange culture, indeed." Terran smiled, feeling the peace of the forest come over him. Of course, as it always was, peace didn't last long. Something washed over him - a signal, a feeling, an urge.

Danger. The Force spoke to him.

"Something's not right," he said, looking at Alif. It was just then that they heard a sound. It was something coming from the front gates, and it certainly wasn't the peaceful work or humming of the Quellan brothers.

[Alif Selelsh]

Danger?

There wasn't a day that went by in the life of an operative that trouble did not follow. Preparation in the field of battle had contort teachings and amass a large grouping of intellectual, strong soldiers of freedom. The Alliance reformed beings of all creeds, races and species into a symbol of strength. Not a day went by without trouble, and not a day went by without their teachings being utilized.

Superiors had taught Alif well. During his conversations, practices and days a youth amidst the early Rebellion he grew as a student of combat. Either through the clouds or on the surface, he planted his feet well into the soil and defeated enemies. Victory had claimed him on numerous occasions, but so had defeat. As a man of war, both were necessary to become wise.

And Alif was getting there.

A smile sprinkled under his snout, his lips parting as his body was prepared as him. Despite the limp that render his leg useless, the rest of his appendages and torso were commodities he would not take for granted. After a wiggle of his palm, he quickly outstretched it and call on the blaster at his waist. Pulling it from the holster, he danced effortlessly off toward a mirror wall. Around the corner came the rampage of steps.

Pressed against the wall in hide, he nodded at his counterpart. Arik quickly was tugged away from the eyes of the oncoming doom. Decimation would not consume them today, not after all the affairs that had been carried out.

A glance sent the furred head around the corner, intrigue and investigation sending his eyes into a storm. The shine of polished white armor sent a bleak tentacle that wrapped around his hope. Alif had felt the pain before. It was one that he subsided and overcame on a number of occasions. The troopers had long past, and were more urged to fiddle in other chambers. However, they weren't out of eye shot, and in turn they weren't out of blaster range.

The smile on the Caamasi's face had not faded.

In a limp forth, he escaped the refuge of the room and a bolt replied. Steam of flare sparked from the blaster's end, the violate energy ray darting at blinding speed at the inquisitive Stormtroopers backs. A hit called, and the resistance of the armor could not sustain the man's life. Falter to the floor sent those ahead in alert, but they soon claimed the same fate.

For now, they were safe. But now was word of the moment, and they could not stick around to see if anymore would be coming.

"Any idea of gettin' outta this poodoo?"

[Terran Starek]

Terran watched carefuly as Alif dispatched the three troopers in their hallway. The Caamasi was good with a blaster, he concluded, which was particularly handy, considering that Terran was unarmed sans a small hunting knife. It was sad, however, that blood was shed. Terran had never grown comfortable with killing. It was a weakness of his, for there were times (like now) when mercy was not an option.

"Any idea of gettin' outta this poodoo?"

"Yes, we've some friends here." Terran pointed ahead of them to Brother Tuuk. He was staring in the direction of Terran and Alif, motioning for them to follow. Without hesitation, they did just that.

The corridors wound into somewhat of a labrynth as they entered the depths of the Monastery. The lighting grew dim, from artificial to torchlights implanted into the mossy, damp walls. They were obviously traveling downward. To where? Terran did not know.

"Hurry! We will be getting you out of here quickly to avoid us hurting." Brother Tuuk's basic was difficult to understand, but they could get his meaning. Naturally, he was concerned for the monastery. The quicker that Terran and Alif were gone, the quicker the Imperials would leave the brothers alone.

"Here." Brother Tuuk stopped them at what appeared to be a dead end. It was a large stone wall, beaten but in tact. Suprisingly, the Archmok moved aside some hanging vines away from a touch pad, where he entered a quick sequence of numbers. The touch pad stood out like a sore thumb, and Terran realized the nature of this escape.

The wall gave way mechanically, splitting from the middle and opening slowly. With a long, loud creak the doors revealed a large, dark room. Brother Tuuk entered and seemingly tuoched another switch, as bright light bathed the room from industrial lamps above.

It was a hangar.

[Alif Selelsh]

"Hangar, here?"

Alif's voice croaked as he edged into the room, his leg still sore from the previous occurrence. The speedy flea was one of many today, and he expected the running to never end as long as they were within the shroud of the Empire. However, the Caamasi was far from frail, but his eyes could misguide such conclusions. The hangar dazzled him, though not exactly indifferent to any other. It was the fact that such a normal location resided underneath a monastery that fascinated him.

A blink subsided his shock, and without effort he delivered the Brother Tuuk a smile. The guidance of the generous man had allowed them a pint of hope they were certain to drink to it's drop. Rarely had people reached out the Rebellion with such open arms. None cared about their struggle beside other Rebels. People could not be trusted, but they weren't simply people anymore...they were friends.

"Okay, friends. We gotta move it."

Alif dragged his foot along the floor, drifting over to the secluded ship. Piloting anything would not be hard, especially after all the training he went through to master the craft. Every facet of combat had to be grasped completely for him to drift into the tirade of shots in battle. Far too many men fell before because of their inexperience and ignorance. There was no place for such benevolent behavior in his world.

No room at all.

The Caamasi pressed his body against the ship, his eyes darting over to Arik. He was certain to allow him his good-bye with the Brother. There seemed to be a bond there that wouldn't be broken simply by a escape.

They respected each other.

[Terran Starek]

"You continue to amaze us with your hospitality, Brother Tuuk," Terran said, amazed at what stood before him. Terran smiled as he realized what the Archmonk was willing to do for them.

"Please, understand, we are not being . . . what you say . . . friendly to this Empire." Terran could see that his eyes were smiling underneath his Kaleesh mask. "We are knowing good when we are seeing it. The ship will fly you to Mon'sera Spaceport. From there, you are traveling on your own. You will be leaving the ship with Hangarmaster Betu."

"Thank you, friend." Terran extended his hand. "I can assure you that your deeds will not be forgotten. I will visit you another day. A stronger day."

"Perana-non-junu." May peace be with you. Brother Tuuk accepted Terran's hand as the two parted ways.

"Alif," Terran called. "Do you know how to fly this thing?" The ship was certainly archaic if anything. The color of paint had been a deep grey, but vines and growths had covered it with both green and the red-orange of rust. Luckily, this was a surface-speeder only. Terran didn't trust it to leave the planet.

[Alif Selelsh]

"Of course."

The hull was coated in a gray scale, captured by nature. Alif had seen very few models of this kind, especially in any modern setting. Much of his flights and drives were a top recent ships. Even the vehicles supplied by the Alliance herald at least some popularity at one point. Alif could barley decipher the odd architecture that structure the flight.

Alif snarled as his hands crossed along the vines. Jerks and pulls destroyed nature's grasp on the mechanical form. Search for the door hatch ran his mind into an investigation, but soon his perils would halt. The smudge of a budge brushed a long his furred palm, the sensitive touch sending alert to his mind. Not a moment allowed him heed, so without hesitation he pulled back.

The hatch opened up, lifting upward as the door unrolled a small patch of stairs for entrance. Time still was swollen with the possibility of danger, and Alif could not afford trouble. His pockets were too full already.

Leaping inside, he scamper about into the cockpit. The vessel was a compact device, reserved for only quick shuttles throughout the sector. Probably an old model utilized during the days of the Kaleesh war. The clash of battle commanded many to flee, or pull up arms. Everyone had to respond or die from the overwhelming hatred that ravaged the land.

Alif looked upon the control with inquisitive eyes, but the commands were no foreign. Many times before he had entered exotic ships, and decipher the code. This would be no different...and most likely less difficult. Only seconds were allowed, and he swallowed the time whole. Developing a keen sense of the command, and a memory bank file for hasty maneuvers he beckoned at Arik.

"Time to lift off."

Pressure subsided, and mind focused, the two felt the roar of engine murmur underneath. The hatch had closed voluntarily, the automatics of the ship leaving no room for accidents. Such an archaic ship, but quite useful. One day Alif hoped to invest in such a lot, salvaging the many worlds he still hadn't the chance to explore. Planet after planet delivered a message that he never had learned before, even Kalee.

The hangar door opened as the Brother pressed in the command and the ship replied. Hover over the surface, the wind blew underneath as the elderly door sent dust about beneath and beyond. When it finally reached a measured opening, the ship spat out and soared to the sky.

Soon they would be on there way. On there way to bigger, better and more peaceful affairs.

"Historian, eh?" An ease capture his clause. Finally he felt tranquil and secure. It was a rare feeling, especially in the heat of combat. Moments so calm were sparse in the life of a Rebel operative.

"What other planets have you studied? Coruscant?"

[Terran Starek]

Relief washed over the Jedi when the engines of the old ship roared, propelling them up and out of the hangar towards the Spaceport. He was very pleased with technology right now, which never seemed to fail when it came to a quick getaway.

Terran looked back down at the hanger. A few white suits poured into the empty landing pad, tiny bleached ants shrinking moment by moment as Alif flew them further and further away. Unless the Imperials had some sort of ship, there was no chance that they would be catching the two now.

"Historian, eh?" Terran nodded and relaxed a bit in his seat. It was only a matter of time before they reached the Spaceport. His only hope was that their landing would be discreet. After that, they could split up and probably avoid detection seperately much easier.

"What other planets have you studied? Coruscant?" Alif was curious.

"Yes, Coruscant among many. My primary focus has always been the Old Republic and the Jedi Order. Those two political bodies are exceptionally interesting," Terran answered as he unbuckled his lap belt. They were at cruising speed and altitude now, and even though the ship was old, it was providing a smooth ride.

"For some time, I've been studying the Jedi Purge and the disbanding of the Jedi Order. It's very interesting," He commented. He stopped, realizing that he could go on about this topic for hours, being a teacher by nature.

"Alif," he said. "If you don't mind my inquiry. . .I was wondering how you got involved with the Rebellion." Terran's question was honest and curious. "How did you find the Rebellion? Why did you join them?"

[Alif Selelsh]

The shuttle soared the sky, and Alif's mind went along with it. Length was baggage in his answer. A good breathe pressed out his lungs as he linger in his chair, staring out the windows in thought.

Much time separated him from the days of young and old. Voyages across the galaxy painted his memories, and prevails to tribulations tattered his recollection. Although the reason was commonly reiterated, it was easily revamped. There were reasons at every turn to pivot to the Alliance's path way.

At least in Alif's perception.

"What a question..."

Alif voice moved smoothly from his depths as he stared off into the distance, his mind meddling with the right words. Slowly he inhaled, and returned to his contemplation.

"A lot has changed since I was a kid. Back when I joined the Empire was a terrible child. Ya' know...in it's baby stage, messing up everything. Running over worlds just to control them.

When I saw my friend jump into a rebellion at a shop market back on Caridia I felt obligated to do something. They killed 'em...because they could get away with it.

Never went to the papers. The human guy that got shot went to the front page...but without the Stormtrooper's involvement anywhere in details.

But the human...the human. He was there...My friend wasn't.

Thats why I joined. Thats why I'm here...I guess.

Justice."

[Terran Starek]

"Justice."

"That's a very strong word," Terran replied. He shifted in his seat to find a comfortable position. The shuttle trip wouldn't be long, but the navicomputer indicated that they had an hour of travel ahead of them. As far as he could sense without looking, they had no pursuers.

"It's a dangerous word," the Jedi continued. "Enslaved nations have been freed in its name, evil-doers have been brought to it, and it's been the battlecry of the infirmed for ages. Sadly, it's also been the reason for mass genocide, the womb of terrible dictatorships, and the mantra for generations of racists." Terran thought about what he had just said, realizing it might have come out harshly.

"It's a good word, and a noble reason to do any good thing," he said with a smile, specifically referencing Alif's reasoning for joining the rebellion. "It sounds like you had your reasons. May I offer you one word of caution?" Terran looked back towards the Caamassi.

"Never ever let justice turn into revenge." Terran spoke out of experience, and he had seen the insidious, hidden nature of the vengeful vigilante. Many times, the vigilante didn't even realize it.

[Alif Selelsh]

The room had become hot suddenly. Alick graced him with a presence that was soothing, but as soon as he dropped the word of truth the Caamasi felt uneasy. Under the coat of fur began beads of sweat, but his eyes were intent and his body firm. There was no room to show a falter, not yet. Not now.

"I would never do that..."

Justice was definately a powerful word. People brought people to justice all the time. The divine nature of the code of justice had brought the Emperor into power, and allowed him to control the very nation at which he wished to bring justice to. Such an almighty stance was one that the Caamasi believed he was prepared to stand for when he took in the Alliance symbol.

Suddenly he felt he was wrong.

The lie which rolled from his tongue with utter ease, gave him a time to think. He dropped the word with defiance, so there was no doubt to be found in the statement that he didn't agree.

"But I do deserve my revenge...thats not what I'm fighting for, though. I've put the death of my friend to rest, and took up the challenge against the Empire because all the wrongs they did."

Alif felt he was on the right side of the war. Nothing he did was wrong when against the Imperial's assault. It was a clear cut case, the bad guy were the ones in Black and white.

[Terran Starek]

Terran could sense Alif's guarded emotions. The other harbored a deep hatred of the Empire - a hatred that would, Terran knew, drive him to desire vengence. While it was true that the Empire was worth despisal, Terran understood the danger of anger. Anger lead ultimately to suffering, according to the teachings of Jedi Masters such as Yoda.

Still, it sounded like Alif had some manner of control. Perhaps he had truly found rest for the death of his friend. The Jedi could tell that this wasn't the proper time to interject on the dangers of anger and the vicious lie of vengence. Their relationship wasn't that strong - by all rights, they were relatively strangers. Frankly, he didn't have the time to pursue the Caamasi's emotions any further, as the navicomputer alerted them to their arrival to the Spaceport.

"Stand firm for the cause of justice, friend," Terran said to Alif, an encouragement. "If you do so, your path will always remain straight." He could feel the shuttle entering a descent, and he found his mind wandering to their next step.

"Alif," he started again. "I think it would be wise to split up." It was tough to admit it, but it was the best tactical strategy for their survival. Terran didn't want to lose his connection with Alif - he needed it to get in touch with the Rebellion. Ultimately, forming ties with the Rebellion would lead him closer to his goal.

"Let's say that someone was interested in aiding the Rebellion. Let's say that someone was, oh, I don't know, a historian who could offer valuable information." Terran gave Alif a wry smile. "How would that someone go about meeting a contact."

Alif was now guiding the ship into a smooth landing, just where Brother Tuuk had instructed. This was Hangermaster Betu's sector.

[Alif Selelsh]

The Historian spoke with elegant words. Encouragement and power enrolled his speech with intellect. It was almost too much for the scrappy, old Caamasi to gather in one bite. Instead of heed, he proceeded with the procedures to handle the ship. Much of the Rebel's mind was still on the subject at hand. Very little of the day when his friend had fell had faded from his mind, and the traumatizing moment went a long with it.

Yet the conversation perked it from the grave. The depths of his mind were once again entangled with the experience, realizing the affect. It was a bit too much for him, but he managed as he always did. The subject would be handled in quiet, in utter silence.

The situation and hand wasn't silent one bit.

Still Alick held an intrigue in the Rebellion, which wasn't too surprising. Anyone that felt it was right to assist a known Rebel had some latent curiosity in the Alliance. There was no in between in times of war. People generally fell in one category, with no leap back wards when they eventually shifted.

So, Alif began twiddling with the concept. There was always someone to talk to. Especially when it came to cases of information.

"There is a man I can't get you in contact with after a bit of recommendation. Definately could come in handy if ya got some good information.

What sort of info ya got?"

[Terran Starek]

"Well, just general knowledge, really. A consultant, maybe." Terran had never been good at lying. He was occassionally good at using subterfuge to get himself out of a tight situation, but he wasn't always great at making up bogus stories. He paused.

"The reality is, Alif, that I have considered joining the Rebellion myself." He wondered if the answer would come as a shock to his friend. Maybe not - maybe Alif had seen it coming all along. It wasn't typical that someone who didn't have some kind of interest in the Rebellion would aide another obviously involved in it.

"However, I've been so engrossed in my own personal travels that I wouldn't exactly be sure how to locate a representative." The shuttle landed softly at the hands of the Camassi pilot. Hangermaster Betu (or so Terran would guess) was approaching the ship hurriedly. Perhaps their time here was soon up.

[Alif Selelsh]

The scruffy Caamasi leaned back in his chair. Silence overcame him as his fingers rested underneath his chin, awaiting the thought to come. A lot came into plan as soon as Alick had meddled with the Rebellion, but with the present interest it had become a far different case. Informants were on the pay roll, but weren't engrossed in the lifestyle of an Alliance member. There were other commodities to both sides of the coin, and Alif's companion had choose the hardy one already.

A simple nod was delivered, but the ever-moving mind of the Rebel operative was far from at ease. The contacts would be made, but presently there was a foreign face approaching the vehicle and he needed to give all his attention.

One push of the button and the doors were open, but only a finger was required for such a meaningless task. The other hand was far more preoccupied with the grapple of his blaster as he twisted about and bounced out the shuttle. A single motion of his hands lifted the blaster to the supposed Hangermaster's face.

"Betu?" The question was thrown at dart precision, with the same lethal nature.

Not a single stranger could be trusted at this point. "You the Hangermaster?"

[Terran Starek]

"That's right," the Rodian said in good basic. He was short and rather plump for a Rodian, but either way, he wore the garb of a Hangermaster - greasy boots, stained trousers, a plain, open vest with some sort of insignia plastered on it. His eyes (like all Rodian's) were difficult to read, but they showed years of experience. "I know where this ship is from, and it's been quite some time since I've seen it."

"You know the Quellans?" Terran replied, curiously analyzing this system. As far as he could sense, the Hangermaster's intentions were good. The Force was difficult to read, and even a Jedi Knight trained in its use was not always right.

"I do, I do," he answered, gruffly. "But there's no time to talk. The boys in white are looking for the two of you. They transmitted your descriptions and included some footage from one of the troopers helmet cam." This wasn't the best news the Terran and Alif had gotten all day, but Terran expected as much. The Empire worked quickly and efficiently.

"Well, it's not fair if we don't introduce ourselves. My name is Ar--"

"No, no, no. I don't ask questions." The Rodian cut the Jedi off with authority. "I've got a deal with Brother Tuuk. The less I know, the harder it is for me to be suspicious." He smiled. "You know what the Empire does to those who aid terrorists. I don't want to know who I'm aiding -- all I know is that this is my hangar, and all ships that register here do so under my jurisdiction." Terran and Alif listened intently.

"The plan is this: you shoot a few blaster marks on my walls, here. Me and my boys shoot a few on your ship. Then, one of my boys ends up in the sick bay with a blaster wound. Not only that, but we lose you in a wicked gunfight, especially considering that you are both armed and dangerous." This was a miracle of the Force, Terran conceeded. He was grateful to have met the Quellans, and he was even more grateful that he had befriended them.

"Fair enough - but don't get yourself in any trouble." Terran wouldn't allow someone to put their lives in jeopardy for his own.

"Trust me," Betu replied. "I've been doin' this awhile. Hurry up - they've got bucketheads walking our hangars back and forth." Terran turned to Alif as they started the first phase of their escape plan.

[Alif Selelsh]

Alif watched, and followed the procedures. Most of it was clear, precise and understanding, but the Caamasi was still quite puzzled. The life of a Rebel never delved so deeply into trust, especially with those beyond the region of their campaign. However, the dirty underbelly of the Empire wield a disdain that even the most wholesome man could find appauling.

Although the docking manager had no knowledge about the duo's status, the fact that it was soo ambigious left Betu in odd's end. A false move and he could be indebt. Alif and Alick would be a team of the biggiest bounties, and he would assist them on the behalf of a friend.

Great bond, almost heart-warming.

Yet Alif did not have the time to be heart-warmed for any reason beside the objective. Only with a pump of his chest, the flow of blood rushed through his being as he surged on. Twirling his finger about, he grasped the groove of his blaster and unloaded a few shots toward the walls as the plan commenced.

Step to the side, step to the left and the art was finished. The wall painted a picture of battle, and he awaited the rest from Betu as he treaded quickly over to the ship. None of it was too complex, as long as one of the bucketheads didn't come falling out the sky or something weird like that.

[Terran Starek]

Terran watched as Alif did precisely what Betu had asked. He trust the Camassi now, and it was easy to see that he was trustworthy. The set-up was going well, and Terran thought that their escape was going to be a bit easier than expected.

He still had one thing yet to do.

"Alif," he said once more as the rest of guards were getting into position and getting themselves prepared. The Camassi turned to face him as he spoke. "I have a feeling we're about to part. We may not see each other again for some time." Terran reflected that this was sad. He rather liked his new friend.

"I need to know how to get in contact with the Rebellion. Where can I go? Who should I seek out?" Terran knew there wasn't any time left to be tactful or sneaky to those with ears around them. Instead, he had to be forward and get the information he needed. He trusted Alif for that.

[Alif Selelsh]

The rest was carried with flawless precision. Every employee flung to the doors with their blasters prepared after a quick comm, and began the procedure. Echo of blast paraded the background as Alif casually strolled toward the ship. Soon the two would part, and the days would roll effortlessly back into the tirade of war.

One day Alif would look back on the day, and tingle over the nostalgia. However the present consumed him, and his eyes focused like a corridor gait. Not a motion could waiver his frozen stare to Alick. Trust had been built, but still left far from embroiled. However, there was no room for falter at such a point.

Many times before the Caamasi operative had dealt with such troubling options. The opportunity cost always was gaged before an action was taken, but there was not much room for an intelligent, logical reaction. Feelings rarely came into play before, but there was always space for new elements.

"Dasquian Belargic. Head Intelligence Operative," he began. The rough edge of his words veered into a rasp as the day's task finally set in.

He needed a good sleep.

"Here..." one shift of the hand, and a data-chip went falling into Terran's pocket. "Just place it in your datapad, all the comm. information to get in contact with him should be there."

Not a moment passed, and Alif had turned about to glide off through the field of misleading shots. Blaster bolts splurged over the wall as his amble carried him off toward the alternative exit. Alick would find his way to Dasquian, meanwhile Alif would decide his next point before returning to a Rebellion outpost. Only wise choices were left, or only pain would follow him back to the Alliance.

Already he entrusted another with powerful information. There was no more room for slip-ups. Empathy, trust and so many other worthless emotions had took him too many times, and he could not help but allow the feelings to merit one last action.

"See ya around," he said, a wave setting him off.

[Terran Starek]

Terran listened carefully as the Camassi gave him instructions. They were clear and concise, and he hoped the information was trustworthy. Considering the ordeal they had both just survived, Terran had no reason to doubt him. He smiled as Alif said some parting words.

"Yeah," the Jedi replied as Alif set back to his work. "See ya around." Terran repeated the words quietly as he could see that the rebel operative was preparing to make his getaway. Terran, of course, would head the opposite direction, making his way to a different transport. It would be very unwise for the two to continue traveling together anymore. It would be precisely what the Empire was looking for.

"Betu, I have no way to thank you now," Terran said as he thumbed the data chip in his coat pocket. "But I assure you - some day, I will." He smiled.

"Don' worry aboudit," Betu responded in his gruff, careful tone. "Just getoutta here before you get yourself killed." He gave Terran a nod and turned back to his work. Terran didn't need any more people to send him off. It was time to move. He turned, maybe to catch one more word with Alif - but the Camassi was gone. He smiled - Rebel Operatives knew how to make themselves dissappear.

So did Jedi Knights.

The crowded spaceport was bustling with activity. It seemed that even the smallest, out-of-the-way planets maintained a steady crowd when it came to intergalactic travel. Terran made his way through the crowd slowly and quietly, keeping his head down. The quicker he got on a transport and got off of this planet, the better.

As he walked towards the terminal his hands imlanted the data chip into his datapad. He had an old model - a R98 Transwriter. It worked well for his purposes, but wasn't as up to date as some of the other datapads out there. The information was clear

Dasquian Belargic: Director of Alliance Operations
Any Rebel sympathies should be expressed to the director for evaluation. Knowledgeable possession of this information should be guarded unto death.

A string of comm link numbers as well as the coordinates to what appeared to be an office showed across the datapad. That was all Terran needed. Surely, this would be the information necessary for the next step of his journey. His inquisitive mind weighed the options: follow this data or not. If he followed, he could--

"Stop right there, citizen." The voice was distorted by a comm system. It was the unmistakeable voice of a stormtrooper and - as Terran quickly gathered - a very suspicious one. Terran slid the datapad back into his coat as he looked up.

"Yes, officer?" The trooper wore the badge of Spaceport Security, a blue and gold symbol painted on the breast of his polished white armor. There were two others alongside him, each brandishing a blaster rifle that looked painfully dangerous. Terran had seen them in action before.

"Yeah, that's definitely him," one trooper muttered.

"Where's his friend? There were two - the report showed two." The other was a little more jumpy.

"Quiet," the commander spoke back to his compatriots. "We'll need to see some ID, as well as ask you a few questions."

"You don't need to see my ID - you can tell I'm in quite a hurry." Terran responded calmly.

"We don't need to see your ID - we can tell you're in quite a hurry." The commander spoke blankly.

"I'm not the criminal you're looking for. Get out of the way." The Jedi spoke again.

"You're not the criminal we're looking for. Get out of the way." The commander put a shoulder lightly into the Jedi to shove him out of the way as the other two guards followed. The others seemed confused, but passed Terran without looking again.

Then, the Jedi disappeared.

As he sat on the transport heading toward the coordinates, he wondered. He wondered many things. He wondered if this was the right step - was this the right thing to do? Would this bring him closer to finding his brothers and sisters who had been lost? Would this bring him closer to . . . home?

Terran relaxed, closing his eyes, to enjoy the rest of the trip in peaceful meditation. For this moment, and maybe for the next, the Force only knew what it had in store.


COMPLETED