A loyal servant returns home...

[Brax Osyrus]

The hiss-swoosh filled the cargo hold, bouncing off the metal walls and reverberating back to Brax. It felt like the sound grew in intensity. Three remotes hovered in the air and then spun off in different directions. Their movements and attacks were random as their tiny computer brains worked through their attack patterns and sequences.

In the middle of them, bare-chested, was Brax, sweat dripping down his face. He had put on a blindfold as to not see the remotes. Buzzing around Brax was a swarm of piranha beetles. They sensed his body temperature and movement and moved in to attack their prey. At 3 feet from Brax, they were stopped, like they hit an invisible wall. At that time, the three remotes fired off a sequence of stingers – stun shots, that while they did not kill, they inflicted more pain than normal remotes. Brax dropped into a defensive position, lowering his body closer to the ground. His lead leg was in front, poised to propel him backwards if need be, while his other leg was tensed underneath him to steady his weight and help him jump forward. One of the shots sailed over his head, but the other two had aimed at his torso. Brax swung his blades in front of him, catching both of the bolts in the white energy of the shafts. The first stinger richoceted off into the cargo hold, but Brax was able to direct the last one back at the swarm of beetles. As it shot through, it killed a grouping of them. They fell to the ground and several of the relatives fell on them, cracking this armor and eating them.

Brax jumped in the air as 6 more bolts targeted his feet. He used the force to push away from the remotes and flipped in the air. He landed outside their range on a crate at the other end of the cargo hold. The three remotes pressed their attacks, but Brax was able to deflect most of them. The ones that got through struck him in his arm and chest. Pain shot through his body, but he used the force to will away the pain. By this time the beetles had devoured the dead beetles and were back after him. He reached out with one hand, grabbing at them with the force. They suddenly stopped moving, as if caged in a glass bubble. While he held them in one hand with the force, he used is saber to deflect the stingers from the remotes. Then he released the beetles, and jumped down to the ground, running through the crates on the ground and assuming a position at the other end of the hold. He waited for the attacks to come again.

This went on for several hours as Brax experienced the ache of his muscles and the pain that occurred with the stingers got through. Just once did his concentration fall and the beetles were able to rip at his skin. He swung his blade through the swarm, instantly incinerating those in his path. He blasted the remainders until they too were disoriented.

Finally, the timer sounded and the remotes went to idle mode. Brax used the force to bottle up the remaining beetles and moved them back into their confined area that they lived. He walked over to the cage and pushed a button, dropping a large piece of nerf into the containment area. The piranhas immediately began to devour the flesh from the meeting, picking it clean in a matter of seconds.

A beep at the other end of the hold, by the door, alerted Brax that the Shadow Hand was nearing their destination. He grabbed a towel and began to wipe the sweat and blood from his chest. He could use the force to heal his wounds, but the pain felt good… made him feel like he was alive. He had just enough time to shower and change before he had to land.

As his ship dropped out of hyperspace, Brax looked through one of the windows at the planet wide city that appeared before him. It was the marvel of the galaxy, the height of Imperial Grandeur. The Imperial Center lit up like a beacon in the night. All around the planet, ships of all sizes and shapes were either waiting to enter the planet’s planetary shields, or they were on an outbound course to their next destination. Just coming into view was two of the numerous Golan III Space Stations.

As the ship began to slow and await confirmation landing coordinates, Brax made his way to his quarters. The droid brain he had installed on the Hand was more than able to accept control of the ship and land it where it was supposed to. Brax stripped off his clothes and jumped in the shower. Steaming hot water washed over his body, stinging the whelps on his arm but cleaning away the sweat and grime.

[Brax Osyrus]

By the time that Brax had finished his shower and gotten dressed, the Shadow Hand had been given clearance to land at the Cle’Atran Spaceport. It was a small private port catering to those who liked to get in and out of that part of the city or the planet without much notice. It bordered the Imperial Center to its north. Brax was entering the cockpit as the ship’s droid brain was setting the ship down on the stained duracrete hangar floor.

“Keep the ship on standby, AL-2. I’ll call you if I need you.”

The Shadow Hand had been equipped with full slave rigging. Also, AL-2 had been modified to defend itself against intruders and attacks. The droids ban on killing sentients had been erased, allowing him to act lethally on those that attack the ship. AL-2 chirped confirmation and Brax left the freighter, stopping only briefly to get his swoop from the rear cargo hold. Before activating the bike, he donned a navy hooded overcloak and wrapped it around himself. Then he straddled the bike and guided it carefully out of the hangar. Behind him the door shut and sealed itself. Slowly he stretched out his senses, trying to discern any threat that he could pick up through the Force.

Sensing nothing, he turned to the left and kicked in the ion thruster on the bike. He went down three blocks and then doubled back, taking care not to be followed. A few minutes later, he was across the street from his hangar bay observing the entrance. When he was sure that no one was in waiting, he left, heading off toward the Imperial Center.

As he closed, he pulled back on the handlebars, climbing higher into Coruscant’s night sky. His hooded overcloak flapped in the wind, but it did not hinder his movement. Up ahead the Imperial Palace loomed bright and imposing. Off in the distance, he saw the remains of what had once been the Jedi Temple. A wash of anger flashed over him and his cheeks burned with the memory of his last visit here.

“You don’t have what it takes to be a Jedi, Brax. You are not that strong in the Force and I sense much anger in you.” That had been the words of Master Lo’raa. She had made the final decision to send him to the agri-farms to work for the Jedi.

“I hope she died in the Purge and I hope it was painful”, said Brax as he landed his swoop. He pulled his cloak around him and then grabbed a blaster from the storage compartment of the swoop and checked the charge. Shoving it into his holster, he entered the bar.

Brax was between assignments, but that didn’t mean he didn’t have a job to do. As always, he was scouring the galaxy, on the hunt for those that would betray the Empire. Rebelling was treason and treason was punishable by death. This year alone, he had already brought 15 individuals to justice… his brand of justice. They had either supplied the Rebellion aid or supplies, or had voiced their displeasure with the current government. He had been sent to deal with them in ways that the Imperial fleet could not. And he was good at his job.

Taking up a position at a standing table he ordered a drink and then casually looked around the bar, examining the patrons who were either celebrating their lives into a drunken stupor, or washing away their sorrows with a flood of alcohol. From where he stood, he had a good view over most of the bar.

[Brax Osyrus]

As Brax continued to observe the crowd, the image of the bar began to go fuzzy. Shaking his head, he looked around. The crowd was still there, having a good time, getting drunk… totally oblivious to anything that he might be going through.

Brax recognized the feeling. It was getting less and less dizzying as he experienced it. Slowly and softly, a female voice spoke to him. It was his Master, he was her Hand. The first time she had called to him, he had almost crashed his speeder into a wall. With training, he had discovered techniques that helped with the intrusion that listening to his Master through the force caused in the distortion of his visual and audio perception.

He grabbed the edge of the table to steady himself. Then, as the voice became sharper, the effects of the contact lessened.

I have a job for you Brax.

I am here as always, my Master.

Brax felt amusement tinged with a condescending tone ripple through his mind. Obviously his Master knew that the sole reason he existed was for her purposes.

We have a traitor among our midst. Only you can deal with him.

Brax suddenly felt a rush of anger and rage wash over him. He hated traitors almost as much as he hated the Jedi. Suddenly, he wanted to deal with this traitor more than anything else in the galaxy.

He remained silent and his Master knew that he was ready to receive the mission. An image popped into his mind of a human male, in his early 50s. He had grey hair and was overweight. After a few seconds, the image disappeared and another image appeared, it was of a logo that Brax vaguely recognized.

The voice was back, against soft but this time lacking any emotion, as if reading from a datapad.

Mr. Hoto Rheanu is an upper level R&D Manager at Aratech Repulsor Company, and offshoot of Aratech Industries. Intelligence has uncovered rumors that he had Rebel sympathies and is planning on transmitting design plans to the Rebels.

Your mission is to kill Rheanu and track down his contact. After retrieving what information you can from the contact, kill them as well. We don’t want the other executives thinking that we are watching them, so make it a suicide. Your time frame is 2 weeks. Do not fail me.

Slowly the voiced died away and the ambient noise of the bar rose and the image of the patrons sharpened again. Brax shook his head and finished off his drink. He paid the waitress and left the bar. He needed to get his gear together and get back to the ship. Straddling his speeder, he activated it and rose a few meters from the ground. Banking left, he sped off in the direction of his ship.