Team Dantarno Race Preparations (and Kieran's History)

[Kieran Dantarno]

OOC: All characters in this thread used with their owner’s permission, or are directly quoted.

* * *

Date: 42 years ago…

“Don’t you see, brother,” Anton said spitefully, glaring at his brother, eight years his junior. “The Empire is the only way to go. Father may have hidden for a long time, but the Jedi are gone. They should not be allowed to live on. I will not let them live on.”

Confusion registered on the fifteen-year-old Kieran’s face, followed swiftly by horror. “You didn’t…?”

Anton nodded. “A contingent of Stormtroopers will be here to deal with a dangerous man…a threat to the Empire.”

“That man is our father!” Kieran screamed, charging at his brother.

The taller, stronger, elder brother pushed the other aside with ease. “I am a son of the Empire.”

Kieran heart the sound of marching feet in the street. He heard the hiss of the door. He hid his eyes, but he felt the coldness of the Stormtroopers as they passed. He heard the hiss of a lightsaber. He heard the scream of blasters. He heard a grunt, and a thud. He heard a lightsaber clatter to the ground.

The coldness returned. His eyes rose, and he saw the limp, lifeless form that used to be his father being dragged across the floor. His body would be burned in a public showcase. He would be made into a symbol of the Empire’s power – not even a Jedi could stop them.

Tears streaked his face as he ran into his father’s bedroom. He saw the scorch marks of deflected blaster bolts, repelled by a lightsaber. He stepped over the broken white form of one unfortunate Stormtrooper, his body halved from shoulder to hip. Then he found it – the thing he had come for - his legacy; his inheritance; the thing that the Stormtroopers would return to destroy later; his father’s lightsaber.

“I wouldn’t touch that if I was you,” said the cold, emotionless voice of Anton.

Kieran turned, rage flashing before his eyes. He raised the saber, and thumbed it into life. The icy blue blade seemed colder than usual. Fire flashed through his body. He took a step towards his brother. Horror filled Anton’s eyes. He took a step back. Kieran advanced another step, his brother still in retreat. “Get…” Another step. “…Out…” Step. “…Of…” Step. “…My…” Step. “…House!” He charged, and Anton ran. Taller and faster, Anton hurdled the furniture and sprinted out of the door, disappearing into the crowd that was beginning to surround his father’s pyre.

As it hissed closed, Kieran stopped. He turned off the lightsaber, and did what his father had told him to from the very day he’d known that Anton was to join the Imperials. He began to collect every Jedi artefact from the house, from every secret draw and hidden shelf – his grandfather’s lightsabers; the Jedi robes his father had worn as a member of the order; the texts his father had written about the Jedi, so that one day, his descendants could learn about their history; and of course, the key card to the storage bay his father owned. Inside, apparently, was everything he would need to escape.

“Come on, Kay,” he whispered to his father’s favourite droid. “We need to go. Father is gone. Do you understand?” R2-K4 bleeped mournfully.

[Kieran Dantarno]

Date: 37 years ago...

"Damnit kid, you're good at this," the trader muttered, watching Kieran's hands fly over the open chest of his Threepio droid. "I wish I could fix him up like you can."

Kieran almost smiled. Almost. But he didn't really smile anymore...it wasn't his thing. "I guess I get more practice than you." He waved his hands around his repair shop, proving his point. Five years ago, he'd come to Tatooine, and had started working as an apprentice in a droid repair workshop. But he was far too good at his job.

At his small homested, he'd amassed a collection of various droids. It had been his "neighbour", a moisture farmer named Darklighter, who had suggested he went into business for himself. Now, this was his shop. Dantarno DroidWorks. He fixed up droids. He collected droids. If you wanted a droid, or part of a droid, Kieran was the person to talk to. If it existed out in the Outer Rim, he'd find it.

It was a pretty lucritive business. Everyone had droids, and everyone needed them fixed at some point or another. Kieran, known as "The Six-foot Jawa", was much more trustworthy than his smaller cousins. He'd already raised enough money to hire a few traders to work for him, fetching parts from near-by stars. The trader standing in his shop was one of them.

"You know," he commented, "You could turn this into a pretty big business venture. You start buying out businesses like this on other worlds, and you'll be raking it in."

Kieran shook his head. "Maybe, someday, but not yet."

The trader frowned. "Why not?"

Kieran pointed across the shop to a small model of a landspeeder, unlike anything the trader had ever seen before. "I'm getting ready for the Judland Rally. I'm investing in racing."

"Racing?"

Kieran nodded. "Racing." He put his tools down, and sat on the edge of his bench. "Everyone wants to see it. Podracers, landspeeders, sail barges, airspeeders, starfighters...everything. If it moves fast, people will watch. So, there's a lot of money there. The Hutts keep it going to attract the masses." He shrugged. "I can fix anything, not just droids. I've already souped up the engines on that thing, and modified the repulsorlifts. It'll glide over anything, no problems. If I win the race, I'll have more than enough to maybe invest in a T-16, and start racing Begger's Canyon, or I can invest in a podracer...maybe at Boonta Eve...that's coming up soon."

The trader let out a low whistle. "Got this planned out, haven't you, kid?" Kieran nodded. "And you're only, what, 25?"

Kieran shook his head. "20, last month."

The trader's jaw dropped open. "I wish I was as good at business as you." He chuckled.

Kieran turned, and shut up the front of the Threepio, flicking the "on" switch. The lights lit up, and she sat up. "Hello," she said, swinging her legs around.

"Take it easy, Kate," Kieran instructed, patting the droid on the shoulder. "If you start getting frantic again, you'll blow you're pnumatics again."

The trader chuckled. "You're a miracle worker, kid," he said, grinning. "I thought I'd have to get a new droid."

Kieran shook his head frantically. "Just an air pipe burst...you could have fixed it on the ship. Easily dealt with. No need to replace Kate. And besides...why would you want to?"

"Because she's a stubborn old cow," he grumbled.

Kieran shrugged. "You just need to learn to treat her right."

The trader laughed. "I'll take your word for that."

[Kieran Dantarno]

Date: 31 years ago...

Kieran sat in his private box on Tatooine's premiere podracing course. He'd been all over the Outer Rim on this tour. Team Dantarno was taking the galaxy by storm. They were second overall; just one point behind the leader. But this race could change that.

Kieran had altered his suit to match the team's colours; the jacket, trousers and shirt were all a pale grey, but his tie was a clean yellow. He smiled, and checked his screen. His podracer was there, about 2 meters behind the leader, and gaining.

"You luke vay too happie, Myster Dantarrrno. I sink it iss becausse you haff too much moneyss...may I help you viss dat?"

Kieran's smile faded. It was the manager of the rival, and leading team. His name was Evanir. He was a Shistavanen. So was his pilot. Both of them. And, like all wolves, Shistavanen's hunted in packs...

The third-place racer bumped the Team Dantarno racer from behind, knocking it's aft off-course, and loosing it valuable ground. Meanwhile, the leader pressed on, unhindered. Why does it not surprise me that they're not playing fair? he thought to himself with a sigh.

A blaster carbine appeared at the side of Kieran's head. "Tell your pilot to loose, or you'll loose. Your head."

Kieran frowned for a moment, thinking. Then, suddenly, in one fluid motion, his lightsaber swung up and sliced through the barrel of the carbine, sending shards of half-melted metal across the floor. He brought the saber up into a basic ready stance. He'd been practicing, but he was by no means a master. He lacked many of the Jedi abilities, but he had all of the ones he needed for a lightsaber.

He pointed the blade at Evanir's throat. "Lets just see how this plays out, shall we?"

Kieran's eyes returned to his screen. He willed the pilot to act soon. But, like every good racer, he was waiting for the right moment. The squeeze.

The squeeze was a section of cliff that provided enough clearence for a podracer to squeeze through, but the margin for error was very low. Racers approaching the squeeze liked to bank, and go through sideways. However, the Dantarno racer would fit through level. Just as he approached, the Dantarno racer cut the throttle, slamming into the third-place racer, knocking the craft off course. Dantarno's employee blasted through the gap, but the third placed racer didn't. He slammed into the side of the squeeze, clipping off an engine. His cockpit survived, pulled along by the one, spinning engine. Kieran chuckled, as the Shistavanen leapt out, and rolled on the ground, trying to extringuish his burning fur.

Tearing down the flat ground, the Dantarno racer had a chance to use all of the short-cuts. This was home soil. Team Dantarno trained here on a regular basis. The driver knew where to go. He ate up the space between him and the leader. They were neck and neck. C'mon, Kieran willed at his speeder. The Dantarno ship edged in front...an inch...a foot...a yard...two yards...ten yards...twenty yards...fifty yards...

"YES!" Kieran yelled aloud, as his racer zoomed over the finish line, first, with the full points availiable. That gave team Dantarno the extra point it needed. Not only did it get the points for winning, but it got a bonus for finishing the race. Two minutes later, the second TD racer shot over the line, confirming it. With the Shistavanen loosing a racer, even eighth place was enough to clinch a victory. "Take it easy," Kieran had told the second driver. And he had. And now, Kieran had won the Championship. He smartened up his tie, and stepped over to the lift, off to collect his trophy, and of course, the prize money.

[Kieran Dantarno]

(OOC: Jumping ahead a lot. Just for a quick summery of the missing 30 years...Dantarno Engineering buys out companies, Team Dantarno wins stuff, and Kieran buys a bigger homestead.)

(And now, the continuation...)

Date: 1 year ago...

"Hi," Jacen said, his tone flat and emotionless. "You must be my uncle."

Kieran looked up from his papers. His secretary had said that an 'important' visitor was here to see him. But the man that Kieran saw before him claimed to be a relative that he never knew existed. "You are the Anton Dantarno's son."

Jacen growled. "I share 50% of my DNA with him. I am not his son."

Kieran knew how the young man felt. If Anton was anything like he remembered, he had probably been the second worst father in the history of parenthood, beaten only by Darth Vader. "I have not seen him in years."

"And you won't see him again." Jacen threw a small metal disk across the desk to Kieran. "Thats his death certificate."

Justice has been served, Kieran thought to himself. "I take it that you weren't raised by him."

Jacen shook his head, and Kieran could sense his anger. A dangerous thing for someone of his potential to have. "I was raised by the Imps. I'm a trained Storm Commando." He sighed. "I mean...I was a Storm Commando. I left."

"Why?"

"To find you. Something that Anton said to me before he died. He said I was...a Jedi." Jacen looked close to tears...and Kieran could understand why. For someone raised to hate everything the Empire hated, finding out that he was one of those things must have been hard.

"Not quite," Kieran said carefully, choosing his words to be as reassuring as possible. "My father, your grandfather, was a man named Arden Dantarno. He was a Jedi Knight. His father, Karlos Dantarno, was a very powerful Jedi. His father was...well, lets just say there have been lots of Jedi in the past."

Jacen nodded. Kieran continued. "Anton however, rejected everything Jedi. He renounced his powers. He supressed them. He ignored them. You, as his son, suffer a similar problem. You will have experienced the tinglings of your power, but they will be by no means as strong as those of a fully fledged Jedi." He gave Jacen an appologetic look. "You have been held back. And unfairly, I might add."

Kieran rose from his seat. "I have no son," he explained. "I am not able. There is Byr, someone I adopted, but he is not my flesh and blood. As the eldest son of the eldest son, you are entitled to the family inheritance." He crossed the room, and pulled aside a pannel concealed in the wall. Behind it, a box lay hidden. "These belonged to our father. They are the only heirlooms we have left." He beckoned his nephew over, and begun to do what he'd been preparing for decades - he explained to the next generation everything that he had saved from his father's room 41 years ago.

[(Alex) Jacen]

Date: 3 Days before the Delteon Endurance Challenge...

Jacen's X-Wing, the Sharpshooter, appeared above the landing bay of the Dantarno Trading station, a little over 24 hours after it had left. Apparently, something was up...something that dragged Jacen away from beginning his quest against the Empire. "So much for hitting a convoy before breakfast," he muttered.

In truth, Jacen didn't really need to be there. Until they had his Intelligence team back, they didn't know enough to attack anything. And until the base was set up, they wouldn't be in a position to, anyway. If he was there, he'd probably just get in the way. But still, he wanted to be.

"Permission granted, Sharpshooter," the landing control operator informed him. "Welcome home."

* * *

"What's the story?" Jacen asked, collapsing into one of the chairs opposite his uncle's desk. "What's more important than beating up the Imps?"

"Beating them," Kieran replied simply. "In a race." Jacen raised an eyebrow. "The Federacy is organising a race. Its going to run through Federacy and non-Federacy space. People from all over are entering. The Federacy have entrants. The Sovereignty have entrants. And there's money at stake. A lot of money." He looked his nephew straight in the eyes. "You want to hurt the Imperials? Go for their pride. And I dare say your organisation could use a few thousand credits."

Jacen narrowed his eyes. "What do I get to fly?"

Kieran grinned. "I'll show you."

* * *

"Its a prototype," Kieran explained, half-shouting to be heard over the noise. "We have three main fighter designs at the moment. The Vex-Wing is our Space Combat and Assault Fighter...an X-Wing and a B-Wing rolled into one, essentially. Dogfighting, and Starship assault. The U-Wing is our Interstellar Atmospheric Combat Fighter...a V-Wing crossed with a Y-Wing or a K-Wing. Atmospheric combat, and ground assault. And this..." He waved his hand towards an odd-looking gold and silver fighter, with techs crawling all over it. "This is the Tri-Wing. Its designed mainly for Pursuit and Interception...its our A-Wing."

"Its huge!" Jacen exclaimed. He wasn't wrong...the wingspan was almost eighteen meters. Four engines, three wings on each side, a catamaran-style dual fuselage...it was big.

Kieran smiled. "You like?"

Jacen vaulted the rail, and dropped the five meters down to the hanger deck, landing in a crouch. Kieran, calmer, followed down the stairs. "How does it work?" Jacen asked the nearest tech, as he stood within the twin fuselage.

The Technician smiled. "Like a podracer, almost." He put his tools aside, and climbed into the cockpit. "You've got your engine control levers here," he explained, resting his hands on the 'handle bars' that sat in front of him. "One controls each engine pair."

"Huh?"

"If you have them central, both engines are powered. As you move it forward, the bottom set looses thrust, and the top set increases to match, pushing the nose downwards...the fighter is built to be unstable, so it works. If you pull back, the nose comes up."

Jacen nodded, understanding. "And if I pull back on the left, it'll take me up and left slowly, and if I push forward, I go down and left."

"Right," the Tech nodded. "If you go opposite directions on the controls, it speeds up the turn." His thumbs squeezed two red buttons on the inside of each handle. "This locks the handles in place..." he lifted his hands away, demonstrating how they remained angled for a turn.

He prodded a handle by his left hand, as Jacen leaned closer to look. "Throttle control. Move it forward of central, and you accelerate. Pull it back past central, you engage the breaks...we've got breaking thrusters on the fronts of the engines." A console with four pairs of one green and one red light, each with a switch underneath sat just above the throttle. "Engine displays. Green means go, red is a warning...switch starts it up."

"Makes sense," Jacen commented.

"What else...ah, yeah." The Tech reached down between his legs, and touched a bar fixed on a central pivot, with two foot pads on it. "This controls roll. Using the pedals helps sharpen turns, orientate you so you're the right way up, yadda yadda yadda." He chuckled.

"And over here..." He twisted to point at another console, which featured a keypad, a small datapad display, and a big red button, "Is the Hyperdrive controls. Enter in the destination, and the nav computer will spew out the co-ordinates. You ok it, punch the big red button, and you're away."

Jacen nodded, comitting each piece of information to memory. "Type, ok, punch. Got it."

"Next," the Tech continued, straightening himself up to face forwards, and pointing to the top of two pannels, "Is the main computer system. You've got tactical overviews, weapons selection, communications...all sorts."

Jacen frowned. "Where's the trigger?"

"Oh, right...sorry." The Tech pointed to two squeeze-bars on the steering controls. "One controls the left blaster cannon, the other controls the right. Same with missiles and ion cannons. for Siezmic charges, just punch the ok button on the computer."

"Alright then. What's the bottom console?"

The Tech grinned. "The pieces of resistance. We've got three engine systems...well, technically four. We have the main Drive engines. We have the Hyperdrive. Then, we have two sets of repulsorlifts. One set is your standard fighter repulsorlift...lets you fly the ship at low levels. But the second set is our favorite. Its calibrated to let you hover at about two meters, and fly like a podracer. Propulsion comes from the main Drive engines...the repulsorlifts just keep you up. When you switch over to that, it disables the roll pedals, and shuts off the bottom engines. You operate on the top ones only. This forces the craft down onto the repulsorlifts, increasing speed. If you pull back, it switches power over to the bottom engine. But, as its off-line, you just loose thrust on the top. Thats all the steering you get - just like on a podracer. To "take off", you start up the other engines, switch to the other set of repulsorlifts, and pull up. Once you get high enough, shut off the repulsorlifts..." he shrugged. "It'll make more sense when you fly it."

"If you fly it," Kieran corrected, stepping up behind his nephew. "The race starts in three days. That should be long enough to get you used to the fighter...there's an asteroid belt a system away. Thats where we've been running the test flights."

Jacen nodded. "Guess you'll need to measure me up for a flightsuit then, unk," he said with a grin. Kieran chuckled. "One question though..." the pilot asked.

"Sure...ask away."

"Why do you need me? Why not the test pilot?"

Kieran's face fell. "We would have used Team Dantarno's No. 1 pilot, but he..." The elder man sighed. "He died. Was killed. Shot."

"Imperials?"

Kieran shook his head. "No. We made the mistake of beating a Shistavanen team once too often. You're the next most qualified pilot I know...none of our other pilots have flown anything like this. But I thought maybe your Storm Commando training covered something like this..."

"Don't worry," Jacen said confidantly. "I've got three days. By then, I'll know this ship well enough to fly rings around a Death Star."

"I hope so," Kieran replied gravely.

[Kieran Dantarno]

Kieran smiled as he relaxed in the passenger couch of his ship, listening to the voice of a friend that he hadn't heard in a long time.

His friend whistled.

Kieran nodded in agreement. "Mhmm...you're probably right, Kay. He probably will end up getting himself killed. Taking on the Imperials is stupid." He shrugged. "But regardless of what I think, he's going to do it anyway. The best I can do is make sure his organisation is as well-funded as possible. Maybe we can make sure that he gets killed by over-drinking at the party he's at, celebrating his victory."

The droid let out what sounded suspiciously like a sigh.

"Don't worry, Kay...I'll make sure he gets plenty of droids to look after him."

A technician stepped into the passenger compartment, and coughed lightly. "Sir...the DE-4X/E is about to launch."

Kieran's smile turned into a boyish grin. "Excellent..." he turned to the R2. "Care to join me on the observation deck?" Kieran's droidspeak was a tad rusty, but he was pretty sure that the droid had just asked 'What the frell do you think, moron?". He chuckled, and walked off down the corridor.