Prologue to Saalarian Pirates (closed)

[Admiral Taylor Millard]

As Millard walked through the filth and muck of Nar Shadda, the Imperial Admiral was reminded how much he hated the place.

Too many aliens. Too much opportunity for something to go awry. His concerns were dampened by his Force senses detecting his bodyguard, Thomas, a meter away on his left.

Admiral Taylor Millard watched the dark buildings of the Correllian Section of 'The Smuggler's Moon' reach toward the shield around the floating city. Several small transports flew off to his right, where an great abyss reaching down to the stars below.

Along with Thomas, Millard had landed his missile gunboat on the outskirts of the Corellian Section, hours prior. Using the name Scout McClure, a trader on the Outer Rim, Millard weaved his way through the crowded streets of Nar Shadda in search of his contact.

Drake didn't respond to my signal 3 days ago. Perhaps, it never reached him. Or maybe something has happened to him. It is odd, he normally is quite prompt in returning messages.

Taylor's sense curdled as a group of Bothans slipped by him. One furry body bumped hard into Millard, almost causing him to lose his balance. His cold, blue eyes turned to slits as Millard stared at the retreating Bothan.

Pathetic creature. Both their art and history are rather boring. Simply because they conceal information well, were they allowed to live.

Millard's right hand slipped beneath his brown cloak, tightening on the repeater rifle hidden, as blaster fire immenated from an alleyway four blocks from his target's dwelling. His left hand brushed his brown hair from his forehead as he found his destination.

A small office, merely a hole in the wall, stood on the far side of the street. Its shabby exterior and dull colors matched well with the surroundings, a liquor store and a cantina. Millard rapped on the door twice, then entered the office.

As he entered the inner office, the figure before him almost made him reach for his weapon. Sitting behind the oak desk, blaster in hand, was Boba Fett. His armored body gleamed as his blaster pointed at Millard.

Taylor stood there non-pulsed as the figure sitting in the chair did not move.

"Q, shut that damn thing off," Millard curtly spoke, as he walked towards a table with drinks on it. The holo of Boba Fett disappeared.

"Identify yourself," a mechanical voice replied, as a droid stepped from the shadows of the office, a blaster in hand.

The Imperial Admiral reached the small table, and picked up a bottle of Coruscant Vodka. Sniffing it, he reached beneath the table and pulled out another bottle of the drink. As he poured himself a drink, he spoke.

"Millard, password OOL-189."

"Acknowledged," came the droid, its blaster retreating to the holster. Its arm raised to its mouth.

"Commander Drake. 'M' has arrived. He awaits your presence."

The sound of blaster fire came from the droid's wrist as a voice responded.

"Be there in a minute 'Q'. Kinda busy right now." Three more spurts of blaster fire came and then silence.

The voice came back, "Tell the admiral I will be there shortly. Ran into some old 'friends' of mine."

Millard smiled slightly. Leave it to Stephen to find a way to keep himself busy while I was gone.

The door to the office opened and a man stepped in. His black hair sank to his shoulders, and a small scar resided on his left cheek. His brown eyes glimmered in recognition as his blaster returned to its holster in the man's jacket.

Millard rose and handed a drink to the man.

"Commander Stephen Drake," he said shortly, "The Empire requires your assistance and immediatel reactivates your status. Welcome back, old friend."

"Well," the man replied, "It's about bloody time."

[Steven Drake]

Drake barely could contain his excitment at the sight of the Admiral. Finally he thought, A chance to see some real action again. I'm sick of being a modest trader/smuggler. Now, I get to have a purpose again.

Little did he know how much purpose he would serve. Steven Drake entered the Imperial Academy in hopes of establishing a career as an Imperial Officer in the Emperor's Army. However, his test scores and intelligence astonished his superiors inciting them to transfer him into Intelligence. He'd met Millard, nearly 27 years ago, while under the command of Grand Admiral Thrawn. After losing contact with Admiral Millard, 20 years ago, Drake set up shop on Nar Shadda as a businessman.

I've spent the last 20 years waiting for Millard to return. Although I could have joined another Imperial Faction, even Darth Viscera's. But Millard has always had my back. Plus, he tends to pay the best as well.

Drake accepted the glass handed to him, drinking the stout liquid. The taste filled his lips, as he brought his small pipe to his mouth allowing the glitterstim to mix with the flavor of the vodka. Sitting down, he motioned for the admiral to sit as well.

"So tell me Admiral," he slowly stated, taking another drink, "What brings you to my humble place of business."

The brown haired admiral began to speak, but was interupted as a 'tinkling sound' came from the outer office.

Drake excused himself, walking towards the door. He wasn't expecting customers at this hour. When he saw the visitor, he quickly straightened his appearence.

"May I help you?"

The woman-no babe he noted- standing before him, wore an outfit many considered illegal in the Corellian sector. Blue waves of fabric, mixed with an orange jumpsuit just barely covering her curves made his mouth salivate with pleasure.

Her melodious voice reminded him of the pipes on Ithor as she spoke, "I am looking for Steven Drake. He must help me find my lost father."

"I'm sorry for your loss," he began, "But I don't find people. I'm simply a trader. However, if you'd like to meet me over dinner I'm sure we could find some sort of...arrangement."

"Of course," the woman said, "Here is my holoID number. Call me." She turned and walked out of the office, leaving a small bag behind.

"Miss...wait!" Drake reached for the bag. Suddenly, strong arms grabbed him, pulling his hands away from the bag. Drake threw the offending person off of his body, only to see it was Admiral Millard.

"What the HELL do you think you're doing!" Steven yelled, reaching for the bag again. A sudden beeping broke Drake out of his anger. The explosive alarm...This place is going to...

As he finished his statement, Millard grabbed him again, hurling him out of the window. Behind the two, the office exploded showering the street with debris. As Millard and Drake stood up, they were met with several men holding blasters and grinning menacingly at them.

Ah cripes Drake thought, letting his hands rise above his head. He and the Admiral were trapped.

[Admiral Taylor Millard]

"Friends of yours?" Millard's voice raised in ire.

Drake only nodded.

Wonderful the Sith Apprentice thought, I come here to recruit Steven and now we're caught in a bind. Good thing I got back up. Several kinds.

Taylor observed his surroundings. The heat of the fire pinned the from falling back for cover. Cries from the injured rose towards the open space above them. Several storefronts and carts blocked the view before them. And a crowd was gathering.

It appears...we may have a harder time of fighting out than before. I'd prefer to not use my lightsaber. My security is at risk if the police arrive.

Millard spoke, "So tell me, why have you prevented us from leaving?"

A rough, pierced human stepped forward twirling his blaster, "Because," he smirked humor in his voice, "We figgur you're a rich man. Plus...we want Drake. He refused to ship some of our goods to Tatooine. We wanna hurt him for it."

"Couldn't you requested another shipper?" Millard kept his voice cool as he began to scan the men. 3 humans, 2 Bothans, and a Gammorian, he noted. The Gammorian is probably just a thug.

"We tried," the pierced man smiled back, "But when it's due tomorrow and he refuses today. There's no point in finding someone else."

Taylor felt his anger rising. More people began to watch the confrontation and his senses were beginning to hear sirens approach.

He saw the glimmer of silver off behind the axe-wielding Gammorian. He nodded slightly, then spoke again.

"So what will you do with me? Am I an innocent spectator to this laborious and foolish feud between you and Mr. Drake? Or do I suffer the same punishment as he?"

Millard began opening his mind, feeling the Force. His senses detected a loose bit of metal not 2 meters away from the thugs. He slowly began lifting it with his mind, moving it towards his enemies.

"You get what he gets. Nothing personal, just bizzness. You coulda been the person who forced him to cancel...or you could've helped him kill mah boyz near this dump. Either way, you die."

The Imperial Admiral smiled. "I was hoping you'd say that."

A squeal of pain came from the Gammorian as the Force Pike pierced its green hide. Millard increased the speed of the metal sheet he was controlling, slamming it into the two Bothans.

As the pierced leader brought his weapon to fire, a blue and red blade cleaved his torso in half. Millard stared at the other two humans, his blue eyes glowing menacingly.

"Leave...now."

Blaster fire erupted from behind the metal sheet, as the two Bothans fired back on their attackers. Millard deactivated his lightsaber, placing it back in his belt. As his Repeater Rifle came to bear, two quick blaster bolts killed both Bothans.

Taylor turned and spotted a smirking Drake crouching, blaster in hand.

"Nice job," Millard said before turning to the Force Pike wielding figure, "And thank you Thomas. I appreciate your assistance."

"Good," came the curt reply, "The others have fled. I suggest we do the same." Thomas cocked his head towards the incoming sirens, "We don't need any unwanted attention."

"Quite," the brown haired admiral said, "Let's go."

The trio moved quickly down the street, mixing in with the approaching crowd of spectators.

[Steven Drake]

As the three Imperial made their way through the throng of humans, aliens, and droids on Nar Shadda; Drake turned to Millard.

"When the hell did you start wielding a lightsaber?!? Last time I checked, you weren't all 'Force gifted' and such."

Millard's eyes glowed, "Keep your mouth shut Drake. I'll explain later."

Drake's dark eyes grew darker as he moved towards his hanger bay. Last time I knew Millard, he was 'normal'. Oh sure he was a damn good pilot, one of the Empire's best, but he never wielded a lightsaber...I shoulda stayed with him, not gone back to Nar Shadda. Live and learn.

Steven cringed as 4 security personell made their way past him, their blasters drawn. He noticed Admiral Millard's hand reach beneath his jacket, but instead of the lightsaber an Imperial Repeater Rifle came briefly into view. Drake shook his head, and the trio turned the corner towards the hanger bay where Drake's ship- The Spectre sat in wait.

"I take it you didn't hesitate to land near me," he said sarcastically. Then he noticed Millard and Thomas had paused their steady walk towards the hanger. Instead, the duo slipped quietly behind several boxes, each pulling out weapons.

Drake slowly brought his comlink open, "Q...did you make it to the ship all right?"

The mechanical voice answered, I am enroute to the ship now. I was able to avoid the blast, but have been detained by the throng of spectators and security at our former place of business. You must be careful Commander Drake, you only have one life and cannot be repaird with spare parts.

"Yeah I know," Drake replied, deciding to avoid an argument regarding the benefits of bacta on the human body, "Get here soon will ya? Drake out."

He then fiddled with his comlink, accessing his ship's sensors. 5 lifeforms were outside of his ship, attempting to board. He only assumed they were armed and dangerous. More friends...wonderful. Quickly he removed his blaster.

To the Imperial Admiral he said, "So what do we plan on doing, boss? We going to take these guys or do they get my ship like they did my store?"

He grinned when Millard nodded his head. Good, these overinflated Huttlings are going to pay for his.

[Admiral Taylor Millard]

"I trust there is another entrance to the hangar?" Millard asked Drake. The latter nodded, pointing to the grate above them.

"Good," the Imperial Admiral stated, "You and Thomas get in the grate. Slip around to the exit, wherever it is. When you're there, wait for the men inside to start firing. Then run for the ship.

"And Thomas. Once the men are dead, go for your missile boat. I'll meet you there."

Thomas looked at him oddly, then smiled figuring out what his leader was going to do.

He's going to try out some of his new Force talents the Imperial Guardsman thought, I hope it works. He's been fairly tight-lipped regarding what's been going on with The Sith Order. But he seems all right. Both Jaranda and Tomar have been worried though.

But worrying was not a part of Thomas' job. His job was to protect Millard. Which I'm doing less and less of. he thought as he climbed through the gate. He wasn't sure if that was a good thing or a bad thing...But he kept these thoughts to himself as he followed Drake through the ducts.

Taylor Millard waited, watching his friend and Drake go through the gate towards the back entrance to the hangar. He stood, and opened his mind to the Force. He allowed his mind to seek out those in the hangar.

Five men stood, 3 of them aliens. Two Bothans and 1 Wookie. The Wookie held a bowcaster, standing near two of the humans. The Bothans were attempting to blow the door off of the freighter, which Millard guessed was Drake's. He slid into the mind of the Wookie.

Interesting...he thought as he probed the furry alien's mind. The Wookie lost several members of his family when the Empire occupied Kashyyyk. Hmm...I have an idea.

He silently weaved an illusion into the Wookie's head. It was nothing spectacular, making the Wookie believe he saw his human collegues as Imperial Stormtroopers...but for the Sith Apprentice, he was proud.

The Wookie let out a long growl, beginning to appear nervous at the sight of the troopers. You have been betrayed Millard spoke in his mind, These men want your death...Kill them!

The Wookie reached out, striking one of the humans with a large paw. The human fell unconcious, a large gash on his face. The second human, drew his blaster and fired at the Wookie.

It was then, Millard attacked. Bringin his repeater rifle to bear, he fired upon the Bothans. Both ducked beneath the freighter returning fire. Stormtrooper blaster...not uncommon. Millard thought.

Suddenly the two blasters went silent as Drake and Thomas attacked them from behind.

Millard grinned, his eyes beginning to flash as he focussed on the Wookie. He brought his hand up, and began choking the Wookie, using the Force as his guide. As the Wookie brought his claw to his throat, a blaster silenced him. Drake stood there, a look on his face.

"He would have killed us," Millard stated, "Better kill him now, then later."

He grabbed the unconcious human, dragging him towards Drake's freighter.

"I trust you can take him as a 'passenger'? Or would you prefer us to dispose of him now?"

[Steven Drake]

Drake frowned, Killing him would keep him from getting any information off to his superiors...

"No," Drake said, stroking his goatee, "Let's keep him alive for now. I'm sure we can get some information from him on the trip...

"By the way," he added, "Where did you land?" He glanced around the hanger bay, his eyes scanning for any others who wanted to take a shot at him.

Steven looked back at the Imperial Admiral. Millard was different than when he last saw him. He wore a black jumpsuit, torn from the fight in the street, his brown hair tousled and unkempt....one thing he noticed was the goatee. Time has changed...he wouldn't wear one of those if his life depended on it. But with all the changed, Millard still looked...regal. He stood straight, giving away his military experience...his sharp, blue eyes not letting anything get away from him. Those eyes always had bugged Drake. He shivered inwardly.

"I suggest we be off, Admiral," Drake said, pulling the prisoner towards his ship...a modified YT-1500 freighter, "One requirement though."

Taylor raised an eyebrow, deactivating his lightsaber, "Yes, Commander?"

Drake let a lopsided smile come on his face, as he reached for his glitterstim pipe, "I want a new ship. I'll follow your ships out of Nar Shadda to whereever we're going."

From the top of the ramp, Steven watched Millard and the silent Guardsman walk away from his ship, and towards his own flight.

Indeed, things had changed, Drake thought, I just hope I get to keep my neck...and my job. Lighting his pipe, he strode towards the cockpit. He dumped the prisoner in the middle of the hold, being quite uncomfortable in his grip.

His sensors scanned two small, black ships making their departure near his ship. Following the small ships, Drake pilotted the Spectre away from Nar Shadda.

"Q?" Drake asked, as the droid walked towards the pilot.

"Yes sir?" The Droid said mechanically.

Drake held out his hand, palm open. A small control device was placed in his hand. He pressed the button on the device, keying for Hyperspace at the same time.

As the ships disappeared in Hyperspace, the headquarters of a few crime lords exploded in a mass of flames.

Settling old scores... Drake thought. Wonder what the Admiral's doing...and where we're going.