Fire and Rain

[Clarrke Benq]

(Post is work in progress)

What a day. What a rotten day. What made the rain beltign down even worse was the fact this was my day off. Of all the rotten timing.... working a good few weeks to get the new computer network at wayand workign, then I get some leave, booked myself to enjoy some R and R, maybe go to lower elvels and have a few drinks and pick up - but no, it just had to rain instead. Not like that colossal downpour of a few weeks ago whent he weather systems were frelled up, no. But, it was enough to make any trip outside deeply unplesant.

Plus, I hated getting my clothes wet. I'm not one of these rich buggers that can order drying from their serfs at the drop of a hat. I'm hardly rich enough to eat takeaway. A tech's life pays okay, but Coruscant prices are steep - rent in my block is expensive. But it I guess is worth it in the end - it's clean, it's got a good class of being and sonme of the residents are fun. Of course, I can't invent there, but I have a warehouse that I use - illegally of course, but no one will find it. It's in the alien quarter, where no one cares. I know it's racist, but it's the truth, right? The high and mighties have all these good words, however you cna see the revultion in their eyes if you look close enough. That's if they have eyes, this is Coruscant, you never know. In the alien quarter, there's the poor of the poor and let me tell you, it might be violent and life is cheap, but there's some good beings there - some of them I've befriended over the years.

Man, it must suck when the water is pouring down, you aint got nowhere to go and it's cold. It's life tho. I do what I can in the volunteer corps, but my job dont uually let me do much.

Oh, right. Job. Day off. Raining. Sigh.

I had my coat on and I was walking down the road to the bank, tryign to avoid getting wet. Not easy in this downpour, but I did my best, running from shelter to shelter, trying to time any dashes with any letup in the rain.

"excuse me!" cried out some squishy head alien. "Pushy human!"

"Yeah, that's me" I deadpanned, moving on. Even with all this rain, it was busy - even more than usual, which was a surprise. But, i guess it could also be that the various benigs on the street were aiming not to get wet and crowding in the shelters. Didn't take a genius to work that out, but I wasn't on my first cup of caffine yet. The ol brain hadn't kicked in, cause it was way to bloody early. Thought processes weren;t all they could be and I think tat was exaserbated by the misreble weather. All I gave a damn about right now was getting to the bank, getting my business done and going home and sitting in front of the terminal, do some slicing of a new program I had considered would be good for my new invention.

(More to add)

[The Lonely Galaxy]

The Lonely Galaxy is well known as THE best travel guide for the Galaxy. It was a high capacity dtapad, with hyper-linked data links to the central databanks to give the disterning traveller information on anythign they wanted.

Whether or not that information was accurate was up for debate, however. Sometimes it was dangerously so, but that didnt stop it from becoming the biggest selling travel guide and in some cases, a wider used information source than even the Encyclopedia Galactia, the normal font of wisdom and knowledge of the vast Galaxy.

Here's what it had to say as an introduction.

Space. It's a whole lot of nothing - in fact if all the matter in the Universe was put into one spot, it would hardly make a dot in the infinate distances of our dimension. It's so big, we hardly know what's in our own Galaxy, let alone others. The sheer wealth of material one could gather on even the tinest species would be overwhelming - let alone the vast data stores the explorers and scientists across the Galaxy have produced. There's just so much to know, if you tried to cram it into your head, your brain would explode.

So, here at The Lonely Galaxy, we save you from that fate. The Lonely Galaxy is a traveller's guide to The Galaxy, from the boring mundane, to the weirdly fantastic, to people, places and cultures weird and extreme. Where ever you are, data is at your finger / talon / feeler / wharever tips. Just put in your request and The Lonely Galaxy will answer for you.

Disclaimer - Data may not be accurate and the Lonely Galaxy will not accept responsiblity for mistakes and misadventures that occur based on the data. We do not proprt it's accuracy, as our field reseachers are often under the influence of mind altering atmospheres

So join us on a wild and wacky adventure into the wonders that is Our Galaxy

It didnt have the DONT PAINC of it's competitor, but still, The Lonely Galaxy sold well. Well enough that it's original publishers had long since died from hooker and drug overdoses.

About a thousand years ago.

Usually in bathrooms.

With some form of pulrty involved.

In fact, no one really liked talking about it. It lead to shufflign feet and changes in conversation as swiftly as possible.

And probably was the cause of the NO CHICKENS sign over the main office door.

[Clarrke Benq]

The bank wasn't that crowded, thankfully. It realyl annoyed me to have to use bricks and duracrete services, I found dealing with face to face customer service to suck at the best of times. Who really wanted to get some exotic disease from some alien? Besides, I had more than enough interaction in my tech job to last me a life time. It basically taught me some beings are just plain stupid.

Wait, let me check my notes on that.

Not some... Just about all. what was it about technology that sent everyone so retarded? Was it too damn hard to press the button marked 'reset'?

Well, least it kept me in credits. And since being stupidity seemed infinite, I had a long, long careeer in fixing it ahead of me. And, given my rates per time click, A wealthy one too. I didn't do drugs or anything like that, I wasn't really into women and bars, I didn't have expensive tastes - but I did like the odd hot speeder. In fact, I had my eye on this new 4 motor version...

"Ow! Hey watch it!"

The squishy thing bubbled some rubbish that sounded like sorry for having bumped into me. I gave it the stare of death, annoyed my daydreams of a hot speeder were so inconsideratly interrupted. Even more annoyingly, reality was thrust back upon me - bank, with generally smelly females of God knows what races, a loud holoview blabbering on about some news. Some rot about Yavin and the Jedi - screwed if I cared. I mean, really. The Force. Dont make me laugh. All rational beings knew the Jedi were just some quasi scammers.

"Next!"

About time. I began to move to the counter.

Snick-snick...

I paused, hearing the unmistakable sound of a well oiled metal slide.

"Your turn, human" wabbled something that looked like it escaped from a hothouse. Frowning, I moved again, but this time much more alert. Even if I was some sort of hard core tech, I've been around. I knew the sound of a weapon slide. That meant that at any moment now, there would be

"HANDS UP!"

How predictable, I sighed. A robbery.

[The Lonely Galaxy]

The LONELY GALAXY has much to say on every subject you can think of. Here's what it says on making money

The Galaxy may be a big and wonderous place, but you have to have credits to get around. Not Dactaries, but real honest to goodness credits. When your an impoverished traveller, nothing buys a hot meal and a shower like Credits. Accepted in all major planets, credits are the only galaxy wide currency system. Wisely, the bankers didnt decide on Octogor Tiggers, which are about 5 tons and the size of a small speeder. Oh course, the exchange rate right now is 1 Tigger to 5,000,000 credits, but anyone attempting to exchange a Tigger has either been mugged or died of a heria.

There are several ways to get credits. Teh accepted way is to earn them and get a job. Of course, soem jobs pay better than others. Cleaning the sewers of Kaut pays badly. Pushing data in Coruscant is okay, but so boring that your brain may try to kill you. There's always being a sex play ting for the Great Karma Sutra of Um Wha - come to think of it, no one ever gets paid for that job, because it normally kills those whom apply. Least they die happy with their chothing around their ankles.

However, the Afterlife is for Chapter 12.

A job relies on skills and often a traveller wont have the skills or experience required by an employer. Of course, the level of skill tends to dictacte the amount of money gained, as well as the tasks involved. But gettign back on topic, the traveller may need to rely on other means to gain credits. While this guide does not condone illegal activities, we note that several beings like sanis Prent and the Black sun have made lucrative careers out of shady deals and illegal activities. Theft and stealing doesnt take much intelligence to do, but gettign away with it does.

We do point out that in most civilised worlds, if your caught you will probably have bed and breakfast for a few years at the Government's expense. This, is an not too unattractive proposition. If you dont have a huge Bothan in your cell who wants to be your special friend

Of course, what The LONELY GALAXY has to say is not always good. But that's what you get for 20 credits. Or for free if you stole it.

Subnote - the anti theft measures built in the datapad have been known to maim and sometimes kill. By accident. If you can call an explosion accidental.

The editors of the LONELY GALAXY tend to think of it as giving to the bastards what they deserve.

[Clarrke Benq]

"EVERY damn last one of you, put your backsides on the floors and your hands up!"

You know, this was annoying. I had spend all this time in the queue, I had even gotten soaking wet because of this rain and now some inconsiderate glitterstim-head wanted me to sit down and hands up, just as I was at the help desk? You got to be kidding me. "Hi, I'd like to make a deposit" I said to the help-squid, who stared back blankly. "Hello? What part of I want service dont you understand?" I said, wavign a hand. The squid was looking in disbelief, seemingly frozen by the nut-case in front of her. To be honest, I wasnt even sure if the squid was a female, but you know, most of these places used female of the species.

Whatever she was, she took my datachip and began to process hesitantly.

""Hey... hey you! Get on yer....! NOW!"

"Not until Squid does my deposit" I replied calmly. "You know how long I've been waiting here?" The thief also seemed rather shocked. His mates looked at each other, shrugged. Obviously, I had a screw loose.

"Listen, you loony, I have this gun and I'll blow yer head off if you dont do as I say!"

"And I have a bigger one" Squidy froze. "Hey, keep doing what you were doing!" I snapped. She did as I said.

"Your bluffing". Theif came closer, but he seemed a bit nervous.

I shrugged. "Maybe. Willing to try?"

This standoff could have gotten ugly, except Squid finished my deposit and damn near threw my datapad back at me. "It's done! Now you sit down!"

I sat down, put my hands on my head of so calmly. "Okay, you can continue robbing the bank now". The thief stared, then shook his head, consigining the last few time clicks to some sort of drugged out dream. Some sort of insanity that was fleeting. But he wasn't goign to let my defiance slide - he reversed his gun and gave me a right clip over the head with the stock.

"I'm soo gonna get you back for that" I grunted, laid out on the floor with blood beginning to seep out of a cut on my cheek.

"Like to see you try" he sneered. "Right, you know the drill. Data ports open!"

What? Data ports open? They were doing an electronic raid via an old fashioned hold up? Geez. I could work out these guys were drugged up amateurs, but this was too bizarre.

But anyway, I didnt really care what happened next for a bit as the thief belted me once again and i lost concious.

[The Lonely Galaxy]

The LONELY GALAXY has much to say on every subject you can think of. Here's what it says on blows to the head

There are many forms of entertainmet to be had on Coruscant, but one of the oddest and indeed most dangerous is the Cranium club, about 20 distance units from the Senate precinct. It requires a signed twenty page disclaimer, a certificate of sanity and even then, you have to undergo intensive coucelling to be the night's main attraction. Many beings will fail at these hurdles or be thankfully persuaded to be part of the audience, not the main entertainment.

You see, the Cranium Club is the only nightclub whose entertainment consists solely beings being hit over the head.

While this to most rational beings is indeed absurd, there is a class of wackos that get into this type of thing. They love nothign more than being knocked unconcious, to run the risk of permanent injury for the 'rush' of beign flailed or bashed or - in extreme circumstances - deal out the damage themselves by running headfirst into solid opbjects / hitting themselves with a bat. The Cranium Club caters for these wastes of genetic material, paying those so inclined to be hit for the entertainment of the gathered spectactors. The being who either hits itself with the most style, resists for the longest time before falling into a coma or just plain kills themselves wins the night's purse. Of course you cant spend the credits when your dead, but many beings down on their luck have willed the large winnings to their families, their own stupidity turned into a vaguely noble sacrifice.

While the last is understandable, it is those beings who apply force to their heads willingly night after night that we dont understand. It is well known some beings have become rich, but also too stupid to use their new found wealth.

However desperate you become, we at The Lonely Galaxy urge you to avoid this place.

Unless you are from the shallow end of the gene pool... which in that case, we add the map of the location fo the Cranium Club, add some tips to being accepted as one of the acts and also point out where the best place would be to apply force so that your brains will ooze out your ears as you lie dying with the appulase of the grateful fans ringing in your bleedign ears

Sometimes, it pays to take heed of the Galaxy's warnings. Not often, but sometimes........

[Clarrke Benq]

I came back from the quasi coma slowly. I heard stuff blurrily, then felt parts of my body throbbing. I groaned, feeling lik em head had been beaten by a lemon slice wrapped in a gold brick.

"Back with us, eh?"

"Back.... where?" I muttered. "Gonna beat the whatzit out outta me again?"

"Hey whoa mate, I'm the medic. Boy, you got whaled by them bandits."

I opened my eyes and saw I was on my side, still in the bank. There was more damage about the place that I remembered as well as a few lumpy sheets. My mind struggled to work this out and gave up. My head hurt too much to think. "I did? How long I been out for?"

"Prolly half hour. With what witnesses say, you delayed the bandits long enough so the pleeezemen caught em in here. Bit of a shootout and the live ones surrendered"

I focused on the blanket again - and realised there was an arm stickign out of it. Oh frell me. Somehow, I didn't feel sorry of them. I was beyond the point of caring anyway. "No kidding. Mind if I shut up and lie here for a bit? My frekking head hurts bad"

"Sure. Want a painkiller?"

"Dont need to ask twice"

The medic pulled out a hypo and hit me with some stuff that a few seconds later had me floating in the clouds. Feeling nice and relaxed, I was turned over to be on my back. I counted stuff on the ceiling as the medic got to work, checking out the damage. "What's the name?" he asked.

"Benq. Clarrke. It's my day off"

"Soem day off mate. You got anyone you need to get a message to?"

"What for?"

"Gonna have to take you to the medical bay. You got a few bust ribs and concussion, bruising and cuts. want to run an internal scan to make sure your all together inside"

"Oh... no. It'll be fine. I dont have anyone"

Like I'll be telling mother. Yeech. Perish the thought. Anyway, some minutes later they put me on a stretcher and haul me out to a meat wagon. Oh well. If I was goign to the medical center, I may as well lie back and get some sleep, if I could. I could tell that I'd have a hell of a hangover once the drugs wore off. On the way out, I saw the remains of the guy that bashed me - I recognised the remains of his face. He had taken a blaster bolt to the skull.

I really couldn't feel any sympathy.

[The Lonely Galaxy]

The LONELY GALAXY has much to say on every subject you can think of. Here's what it says on brains

The brain is a wonderous thing - so complex it cant have evolved so some scholars say. Filled with neurons and electrical sensors, the brains controls all the functions of a body, from the moemnt we are convieved, right until death.

It's also makes a terrific soup.

The best brain soup makers are the Azari of Zrt. The actual recipe has been hidden for centuries and many have travelled to the Outer Rim planet to gain knowledge of it. Unfortunantly (or forutunantly if your a Azari), visitors are normally 'volunteered' to be main course at a banquet in their honour. An azari meal is reported to be delicious, but no reliable reports have ever returned. Much confusion occured when the azari met their first droid visitor and many expenisve dentist bills resulted from attempting in eating the droid brain.

The brain also is well eaten cold, like a after dinner jelly. One noted party trick in some of the more exotic restaruants of coruscant is the head is used as a stand and the brain exposed, as a form of dip with biscuits. another is a straw is inserted into the brain cavity and the brain sucked out.

However you eat a brain, beware that you dont accquire CJD, often known as Mad Nerf Disease. It is believed however that a CJD afflicted brain mass is much tender and yummy on toast.

The Lonely Galaxy is not noted for it's culinary knowledge.

[Clarrke Benq]

The ride to the medical centre was quick. The bone cutters there even quicker to put me out like a light. I had hardly any idea I was out until I came back awake, feeling surprisingly light headed. The place I was in was dimly lit, fairly bare, nicely painted in some shade of puke. I dont know if puke is a colour, but if anything could be defined as the colour puke, the walls of this room could be defined as it. It was pretty warm too. I worked out I was on a bed and that too felt marvellously comfortable. My limbs felt pretty heavy tho, hard to move - so after the first attempt to get up, I just lay there, feeling pretty good about everything.

I felt even better when a very attractive medic came over to me. Medic... ahh. still in the hospital.

"Good evening Mr Benq, how are you feeling?" she said. Wow, she had a frame and a half, wouldn't mind feeling that!

"Okay" I crocked. "Where am I?"

"Nightbird Medical Centre. You've been out for 10 hours while we fixed a few breaks and some internal injuries. We gave you some sedatives and painkillers before you woke up, if your wondering why you feel odd. Everything is okay now"

Oh, so I was bombed out on somethign. Hey, cool. I turned my head a bit to get a glance at the medic's legs and I immediatly wished I didn't. "Good to hear. How long you lot gonna hold me in here for?"

"Another two days. The bones are still repairing and will need some time to strengthen. Will this be okay with you?"

"Sure, if I have these drugs."

"Oh of course!" she said. "Anything else I can do for you?"

"Yeah..... female humans dont have a penis"

"Oh, did I do that again? Silly me. Thanks for reminding me"

Even in my drugged out state, that last bit really threw me. Kept on forgetting? Well, I suppose if you were a shapeshifter, that could be a problem. Admittedly, that was a pretty good idea to keep patients calm. Or scared. Or entertained.

Entertainment was very much far from my mind now tho. I leaned back and considered what a entirely frelled up day I was having.

[AmyLee Tivenel]

I wanted you to know I love the way you laugh
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain away
I keep your photograph; I know it serves me well
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

She was in a low rent dive about 500 meters from where the local diner was situated. A young female human, dark haired, dressed in what passed as fashion for human youth. The room itself was pin neat, if a bit empty. There was a cooking area, a door to a refresher, a fold down bed, a small cleaning device that could sweep the threadbare carpet, a few suitcases neatly stacked in a corner and a clothes rack. Liek the room itself, she was neat and tidy, even if her clothes had a distinct air of being second hand. The cooking area smelt vaguely of spice. The woman herself was sitting cross legged on the bed, writing pad on her knee and an old fashioned graphite stick in her hand. She couldn't afford a data pad, so the ancient way of scribing words would have to do - besides, when you were writing from the heart, when you were seeking to express your desires into either a poem or song, it seemed so much more personal to do it on a flimsy. Her graphite stick flew as she wrote, the idea of the song spilling forth in a torrent. It was rare she had the idea for a song and rarer it popped into her head fully formed. The last time it happened, she was able to sell the song to a local artist from Home - the credits had been enough to ensure she could gain passage to Coruscant and try her luck and try her dreams.

So tall and beautiful the buildings look.

So depressing, cold and impersonal they were when you were living in a 10 credit a week dive, struggling to find scraps to call dinner.

Cause I'm broken when I'm open

And I don't feel like I am strong enough
Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel light when you're gone away

She was about 23, tall for a human female and if the truth be told, quite beautiful if she paid attention to her appearence. She tried to care enough now, but it was so hard in this soul crushing place. No one cared. No one noticed.

It was also the truth she could sing. In fact, Amylee Tivenel could sing very well. Her voice had real range and power, she could obtain and hold notes other singers would have trouble with. She also could sing in several languages, she had an ear for music and song. She was also talented on the stringed strummer, a device where one plucked the strings to produce a range of notes. fingers on the fret board would alter the notes and combined with her voice, had a real emotional power.

Your gone away
You dont feel me anymore

But no one told her that talent wasn't enough. You had to sell yourself - and she suspected after meeting with some talent scouts, you had to put out. The thought made her blood go cold - she was a virgin and the thought of having sex for personal gain was disgusting. She was waiting for Mr Right, not Mr Right Now.

The worst is over now and we can breathe again
I wanna hold you high, you steal my pain away
There's so much left to learn, and no one left to fight
I wanna hold you high and steal your pain

So.....

Here she was.

Writing a song that likely no one would hear

With nothing to eat tomorrow.

And precious little from her song sale to get her home.

In fact, she was becomming worried that there wasn't enough.

And then, what would she do?

Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel right when you're gone away

The graphite stick paused. Her lips pursed as she pondered that fact. after a bit, she re-read her song.

Cause I'm broken when I'm open
And I don't feel like I am strong enough
Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel light when you're gone away

Believe in myself, she thought. There was nothing more she could do. Believe she would get her break and she could sing for someone who thought more of her than just another peice of meat to be commercialised. she wanted to show the Galaxy her talent and if the God her mother once told her of existed, He would smile on her and grant her what she desired to do. Not for her own gain, but for the joy she could bring. Her mind wandered back to when she was a mere slip of a girl, the winds of puberty barely upon her - she had sung in that play.

Oh, how proud her parents had been. How proud of her would they be if they saw her making it in the most important place in the Galaxy?

Cause I'm broken when I'm lonesome
And I don't feel light when you're gone away

"Your gone away, You dont feel me anymore" she sang, making a few notes on what key the song should be in, chords for her strummer. Wherever fate took her, she'ld always strive to make her parents prouds. and thinking of that, it was her father's birthday soon. Must remember to save and scrip for a call back home.

[The Lonely Galaxy]

The LONELY GALAXY has much to say on every subject you can think of. On music, it has a lot to say, becuase each culture has it's own music and the topic itself covers several databases. Musicians, notible events, instruments, styles. But this is what it has to say on The Modal Nodes.

Meet the Modal Nodes -- a group of seven Bith musicians trained in jazzy popular music. Frontman for the Nodes is Fiery Figrin D'an, a card-shark and expert on the kloo horn and the gasan string drum. Backing him up on wind instruments are Doikk Na'ts on the Dorenian Beshniquel (or the Fizzz, for those in the know), and Ickabel G'ont and Tedn Dahai on their fanfars. Rounding out the band are Tech Mo'r on the Ommni Box and Nalan Cheel on the horn bell-bedecked bandfill. Lirin Car'n only sits in from time to time, but he does play a mean kloo horn backup.

Like any band of this size, interpersonal conflicts flourish, even among the laid-back and introspective Bith. Figrin's habit of compulsively gambling away their earnings -- and even their instruments -- did wear thin. Being plunged into some of the seamiest venues and unsavory gigs didn't help either.

Still, the band was popular and talented enough to land several long-standing gigs, such as their stay at the Mos Eisley Cantina. They even drew the attention of Jabba the Hutt, and became his house band until his fickle tastes turned. When the opportunity presented itself, they fled Tatooine. Though they traveled the stars for years, pan-galactic fame continues to elude them.


Band Profile

Figrin D'an



Figrin D'an is the leader of the band and does all of the negotiations. Unfortanatly he gambles most of the money he makes away on sabacc games. He lost all but Doikk Na'ts instrument, but eventually got them back. He plays the kloo horn which is much like a fizzz accept that a fizzz is more sweat in music tone. This has given him the name "Fiery Figrin". This leader also played hot percussion on his gasan string drum.

Doikk Na'ts



Doikk Na'ts is the only member of the band to own his instrument. He is quiet and doesn't like Figrin. Figrin tries to get him to gamble but Doikk is smarter than that. He hand carves his reeds and fixes the instrument when it is broken. Also very important is the fact that he can play and listen to conversations at the same time. He plays the fizzz instrument.

Tech M'or



Tech hates Figrin even more than Doikk, and this is due to the fact that his instrument was won in a sabacc game. Also is the fact that it takes a Bith's full genius to play. It is by far the hardest instrument to play. He can easily be seen slouching over the Omnibox instrument sleeping.

Nalan Cheel



There is not a lot of info on this character, but I can tell you a little about his instrument. It is the second largest in the band. Unlike the others this instrument is a horn not a wood wind. It keeps the rhythm of the band like a tuba or bass drum would. This instrument is called a bandfill.

Ickabel G'ont



This character has the least info which is strange due to his unusual name. He plays the fanfar instrument, and always argues with Tedn over little things. The fanfar instrument is the smallest of the bands instruments and is similar to a clarinet.

Tedn Dahai



Tedn is much like Ickabel. They play the same instrument (fanfar) and argue over every little detail. Their instrument is the smallest and is similar to a clarinet. Tedn was shot in the arm at the wedding when trying to escape. He had to be dragged out by Doikk.

Lirin Car'n

This is the name of the sometimes back up player Lirin Car'n. He playes kloo horn when Figrin playes gasan string drum.

The Modal Nodes are often found playing in the very Cantina Luke skywalker is said to have met Han solo. The very same where Greedo was shot without pulling the trigger

Now, the reason why the Lonely Galaxy adds the last bit is unknown, tho rumour has it there was a history dispute. Many knew Han solo escaped the Cantina after being accosted by one of the thugs of the legendary gangster, Jabba the Hutt. Most reliable reports have Solo shooting Greedo first, but another rumour came about that Greedo somehow fired first and missed at point blank range.

This controversy has grown in recent years - undoubtfully becuase of revisionists who try to make Greedo shoots first the real story. We all know Solo fired first, cause he's just The Man, you know? Besides, what loser misses from 1 meter?!?!?! If it is true, Greedo deserved to be removed from the gene pool

The Lonely Planet is also sometimes quite opinionated too.

[Randi]

When she woke up this morning, the idea of bailing out of the job and running as far as she could was on the forefront of her thoughts. She'd never been involved in a bank robbery before. Of course, that was before she met him.

Almost a year ago Randi was on top of the world. She was getting into a new routine that suited her well. A student, attending her third year of medical school and enjoying life on her own; away from her nagging father. For a while, school was a struggle. Her mother had been killed in an automobile accident a little over eighteen months ago, which devastated Randi. The two were close.

It was a few months after the funeral that she met - him. Francis "Frankie" Capella. He was so enigmatic! Tall, built but not overly muscular; dark hair and dark eyes which captured her soul the moment he looked into her own.

Had she known then that he was a man on the prowl, in search of a lonely, depressed young woman as she was in which to mold into a tool for his using ... none of this would have happened. At least ... it wouldn't be happening to her.

She was so scared! Having never fired a weapon before in her life, her hands were shaking uncontrollably and there were a few times that she tripped up in the timing that had been so expertly planned prior to committing the acutal crime.

Those trip ups caused the death of two of the other gang members. Frankie took off. Louse that he is. Took off and left her there on the floor, bleeding and to take the fall for it all. Bastard.

Randi had been shot in the thigh twice during the shootout which ensued when the police had arrived. Things went from crazy to insane within the blink of an eye. Someone had released a smoke bomb, clouding the air and Randi became disoriented in all the hayday.

She was cuffed, of course, and taken by ambulance to the Nightbird Medical Centre where she was treated for the two bullet wounds to her left thigh. Now, she rests comfortably in one of the two beds in the semi-private room across the hall from the room Clarrke is in.

Still a bit groggy from the anesthesia, she only hears someone say something to the effect of female's not having - a penis?! Randi's shoulders shudder as she eases herself up to lean back against the pillow. In her mind, she figures that she heard that wrong; after all, she is still groggy from the anesthesia.

She lifts her arms slightly, twisting her wrists and attempting to slide her small hands free of the cuffs. No such luck. At least ... not yet. It'll take her a little bit, but she'll free herself. Her hands are small as well as her wrists. It's just going to take a little ingenuity to get free this time.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

Taataani nervously pulled at the hem of her dress, stretching the fabric over a knee as she sat. She was nervous, and it showed. There wasn't a singular reason. Was there ever? Reasons seemed to travel in gaggles.

She was unconciously sucking in. While overweight for a Cizerack, her rounded features wouldn't cause any other humanoid to bat a concerned eye. The pudge at her midsection was ten times its actual size in her mind's eye. Frowning, Taa squeezed her tail around her belly, and covered even that with a striped forearm. She sighed...then sucked in again.

The paper nametag crinkled on her yellow flowered dress. She smoothed it down for the most part, save a corner that defiantly lost its adhesive and curled on itself. She'd gotten halfway through scribbling her name in Cizerack glyph, before scratching lines through it. She started again below, and jotted her name in Basic instead. Old habits.

Something smelled.

Taataani made a face. No...

Someone smelled.

It wasn't a secret who, either. The Hutt halfway around the circle sprawled like a blubbery mountain. Oily sweat, slime, halitosis, flatulence, and the remnants of whatever she'd shoveled down her wide drooling mouth for breakfast read like headlines in Taa's delicate nose. Breakfast. Did she smell Klatooine spotted boar?

gurgle

Her grip around her midsection tightened. The beast stirred in its restless sleep. She sucked on her lower lip. When was lunch?

Sigh.

Suck it in.

Repeat.

The Hutt wasn't hard to miss, but what was her name? Taataani didn't imagine a nametag would even stick to her slick hide, and she didn't particuarly want to go looking.

The Whiphid scratched at hers, ruffling the matted fur it rested on. Beatrix. What kind of name was Beatrix? The tusked alien's broad head towered over everyone seated. Beatrix was almost as tall as the Hutt was wide.

Taa's spectacled eyes looked around the circle again.

The Selonian had given her chair a miss entirely, and had made herself at home on the cool floor of the meeting room. Her long, slender body curled in on itself, so that she watched everyone else with her head resting on her own rump, and her tail swishing in front of her. She wore only a yellow scarf around her neck, with a name tag that read Amamapolia. Taa winced outwardly, wondering how somebody was supposed to pronounce such a convoluted name. Cizerack names seemed much better at rolling off the tongue. Amamapolia gave Taataani what she could only interpret as an uninterested glance.

A Cathar named Greearr seemed intent on catching Taataani's attention. He grinned toothily, returning to his newspaper only after he was sure that the Cizerack had seen him see her. Taataani allowed herself to flirt almost unconciously, despite how she felt about herself at present.

Ah-CHOO!

Taa's ears fluttered, then swiveled on habit to triangulate the source of the sneeze. Another Cizerack, named Aaveerra. Much lighter in skin tone (and much slimmer, dammit), she dabbed at her nose with a tissue, and passed the time by playing with her hair, and trying to get the attention of the man sitting next to her.

Jarrik Daviko looked lost. Everybody else was here for what Taataani could determine was an obvious reason. You didn't need a second look to know that they didn't fit seamlessly in Coruscant's cosmopolitan society. But Jarrik looked like the poster boy of the city planet. He wore a well-tailored double-breasted grey suit. His hair was neatly combed back and sculpted. Aside from what looked to be a little skin irritation at his cheeks, he could've been a holo-movie star for all she knew. He even wore a pair of designer sunglasses. Everything about him seemed GQ. Well, except for the bottle of namana juice he was sipping on through a straw.

gurgle

Sigh.

Suck it in.

Repeat.

Taa squeezed at her midsection again. Now it was breaking her train of thought. She'd give lunch a go entirely if only for a mid-morning snack.

The door to the Sentient Predation Anonymous meeting room opened, and everyone turned their heads to see who would enter...

[Clarrke Benq]

Two days spent in a haze of drugs. Hey you know, this medical thing does have it's benifits. I spent those days either off my frelling nut or asleep. Good times, I say. Of course, when the wounds and bones ahd been healed enough, they poured antidote into my system to clear my head. Off the buzz and with minimal pain killer, now I noticed all the palces those bastards had worked me over. The local milita commander interviewed me for a statement.

"You know, you were lucky, Mr Benq. Brave, lucky and stupid. Please dont do something that dumb again? I dont like the thought of a good citizen killed."

I thought about a smart answer, but thoguht better of it. "Sure. and what about the goons?"

"Well, you'll be pleased to know we caught them all and even have one of them in here"

"Oh? can I have some time with him? as payback?"

"It's a her, not a him"

"No difference. One good square punch to the nose, that's all. Please?"

The militia guy grinned. Despite the bagging I got (which was deserved, I hate to admit), he was a pretty level kinda guy. About 50, square jawed, still frelling fit and a killer handshake. Crap, the guy nearly broke the fingers of my hand witht he handshake. said his name was Geordi. "Don't worry Mr Benq, she'll get hers in prision. I'll make sure her and her buddies have stair problems - several times".

"Still wouldn't mind the personal touch. what's the point of an Up Yours if it's delivered long distance?'

Geordi was still grinning. "Ah well, dont worry Mr Benq. Just be assured she'll get justice. Now, I understand your bing relased today?"

I nodded.

"Good - We'll contact you in a weeks time. Oh" he said, getting up, "One more thing. Room 718. door code 8679309. someone wants to see you"

I shrugged. Whatever.

--

I pulled on my coat as I finished getting dressed. It was a nice day outside, nice and warm too, the sun was shining bright. I'd need my sun shades - although I never took the things off if I could get away with it. They were on my face now. I tied back my hair into the customary ponytail, gav the room one last look and turned to leave.


Hmmm..... Room 718 right? Just so hapened to be across the hall and three down. and the hall was empty.

And I saw a code pad where the lock should have been.

I thought about it, then shurgged my shoulders. Why bother with petty revenge?.

--

The room was dark as I left and the person in the bed was strapped to it. Drugged out I bet too. Pity. Bet they would have one beauty nosebleed for a while.

Petty revenge was fun

--

Now ladies and gentlethings of the audenice, who do you think escorted me outside? Yeah, it was Shapeshifter. This time she / he / it remembered. But the image was burned into memory. No matter how noce the rest of her looked..... blech. Tackle with boobs just dont do it for me.

Got myself a speeder home, opened the door to see my answering console had messages. I sighed. that'll be work I bet wondering where the frell I had been.

[Randi]

Her struggle with the cuffs was interrupted when a nurse walked in carrying a clipboard. Her wrist free, she kept it hidden, so the nurse wouldn't notice anything amiss.

"The doctor will be in shortly to approve this, but there's no reason why you can't sign these papers now. Your discharge papers, that is." , the nurse stated as she looked down her pointy nose over the rim of her glasses to Randi.

"Better enjoy the next few minutes. Next stop for you is jail." The nurse scribbled her own signature on the forms then stood next to the bed, holding the clipboard in place while handing Randi the pen.

Randi glared at the nurse and jerked the pen free of the women's grasp. The pen was fine, however Randi shook it hard a few times, as if the pen wasn't working. When the nurse leaned in more and attempted to grab the pen from Randi's hand, Randi moved quickly and plummeted the pen sharply into the nurses eye. Convenient for her that the nurse's glasses were worn lower on her nose. Convenient that the nurse didn't also get broken glass shoved into her pupil.

There was but the briefest of stuttered shock before the nurse fell backwards to the floor with a thud; the clipboard tumbled shortly after, clattering against the linoleum tiles.

Gritting her teeth against the stiffness and pain in her thigh from the two gunshot wounds, Randi bound from the bed and hurriedly stripped the nurse of her uniform. Randi slipped into it, finding that it fit her like a glove, then proceeded to struggle with the dead body in getting up onto the bed. Panting and short of breath, she threw the covers over the woman and grabbed the clipboard.

With a noticeable limp, Randi left the room. The guard on duty just outside didn't bother to stop the woman leaving the room. He glimpsed the white attire and figured it was just the nurse carrying on with her rounds. His first clue should have been the limp, but he was otherwise occupied with checking out the legs of the other nurses bustling about the floor.

Randi managed to make her way out of the hospital. Once she was free and clear, she stripped off the nametag and tossed it aside. Public transportation was in order, however, she didn't have any currency with her.

'Where to go ... where to go..', she frantically worries in her mind as she limps her way across the street and uses the alleyways to move around town.

Then it dawns on her. She remembers where Frankie had taken her the first time he let her in on his 'operations'. He had a little hideout in the basement of an old abandoned warehouse; just a few more blocks away in the Industrial Sector. No one would even think to look there; even the local authorities weren't wise to it.

Thus, that is exactly where she goes. Once there, she looks around in every nook and cranny, making sure that she is in fact, alone. Satisfied that she is, much needed rest is in order; so Randi grabs one of the dusty, ratty blankets and flops down on a cot to sleep some more.

[The Lonely Galaxy]

The LONELY GALAXY has much to say on many topics. Here's what it says on Meat

We at the LONELY GALAXY believe there are two good groups. Things we eat and other things that food eats. Why bother with such a thing as vegetarism when you can have a nice thick and juicy nerf steak, dripping with juices, cooked with some exotic spice, with a light alcoholic drink that had been brewed with the clear and perfect waters of some exotic planet? What is the point we ask, of becoming like a waif and munching on yukky bits, even if the medics insist that they are good for us? Isn't life too short to be crapping the same that a nerf would? Do we want to be compared unfavorably to a grass grazer when we belch?

Besides, if we are that concerned about our health, we can go runnign after digesting the protein to exercise. And we might point out, ever seen a happy vegetarian? They look all pale and wasted, no meat to their bones, dour expressions as they know they are missing out on life and the wonderful smell of a decent meat dish. And even if your biological setup demands that you be a grazer, we dont feel sympathy for you. In fact, we believe your on the menu next week.

We ask you, how can one damage the refresher with a bout of Bombat belly, how could the renowned 'Ring of Fire' be produced if the dish was created with leaves? No, to truly have the full experience, it has to be meat.

Strangely, the Galaxy's most numerous species, Human, is an Omnivore. That means that they are capable of having both food and what food eats. This has the effect humans, despite how mediocre they are as a species in many respects, are the best chefs. They have experience and a natural curiousity to dinner that other species lack. On average, the Human can consume without difficulty a wider variety of food stuffs than anything else.

Now, you might be wondering where this is going. Well, that direction is that Humans are in fact one of the Galaxy's best eating. Of course, Humans dont like being eaten and have generally either invented the best weaponry to protect themselves, or lthe fastest vehicles to run with. Yes, Humans are generally weakish strength wise, but no one said they were stupid. As we also know, Humans can fight and they fight hard. Sure they are not Wookies, but you never knwo when a Human might be a Han solo type and fast on the draw.

so, if your a straving Cizerack and you need a meat fix, our advice woudl be Nerf. Nerf is a dumb cow like being found in many places, normally herded by humans.

If you think about this, you might say this is a good move by Humans. Provide lots of food easier to get to and almost as good so no one thinks of eating them.

As well, Humans were the prime movers behind anti Sentients on tables and in pot legislation through the Republic. Humans aren't dumb.

be that as it may, there are outposts who specialise in serving cooked Human. The best known is on the Outer Rim, near the Riishi Rift. Frit'a'laii, a restraunt, where you can find all sorts of sentients to eat.

A final word of warning. Remember how we said Humans are Omnivores and can almost eat anything?

And that they are highly intelligent?

Think about this before trying to eat a Human. You just might wind up being eaten instead

Sometimes, the LONELY GALAXY can leave with the same sort of clarity that a bag full of socks applied to your head imparts clarity.

Ie, it doesnt.

Still, the is no doubt the GALAXY sells well on planets with a distinct throwback leaning and speeders on blocks type housing.

[Jump von Ya-Ya]

The sky was black. It is always black. A sexy velvet black. No natural light hits us here but the light is blinding. The colours dazzle and glitter; reflected on the surface of sweaty, half-naked bodies. Watch them writhe and grind. I do. And I writhe and grind to the sound of the drum beats and the bass pumping in the air tonight; last tonight; tomorrow night; every night. We do this together every night. Our lives in perfect harmony with the same rythmn and melody. This is why me and my people are called the Pulse. We are the Pulse of Coruscant. And we’re proud. And we’re proud to boast.

The Pulse was said to be located three steps from Heaven and three steps from Hell. In laymen’s terms; we’re smack bang in the middle levels of the galactic capital. Now I don’t know if Heaven or Hell exist; the bare foot of God has never walked these streets and the Devil has never seduced any of the ladies in my clubs, so frell them; but right here, this is where paradise is at. The Pulse of the City is where a man comes to live; where a woman comes to give; where the players come to play and the toilet-worshipers come to pray. Oh and one more thing about my backyard; because this is my backyard; if you come to the Pulse, you’re here to stay.

“An’ who would wanna leave, baby?”

The bare-chested crowd of hoes and schmos roared in approval for they were tonight, like every night, in the highest of highests, that’s spirits. And they had every right to be for yours truly, that’s me; Jump von Ya-Ya, the baddest, sickest gundark in the nest, the maddest, slickest slayer of players and prayers with the biggest balls to fit the biggest bills was very much in the house. So sit up. Listen up because I’m about to preach.

“An’ me baddest of bruvas and me sexiest of sisters, when your biggest of bruvas has summin’ t’ say y’ ad better pay attention cuz y’all wouldn’ wanna be missin’ the Preacha’s holiest of holy advice. For it will, me bruvas an’ sisters, get you a jumpin’ on me train, me train takin’ all me sinners an’ ain’ts on da stairway t’ Eavan and de elevator t’ Ell. For I. Am. Your. Salvation! I am Jump von Ya-Ya; da baddist, sickist gundark in de nest, da maddist, slickist slayer o’ playas and prayas wi’ de bihiggist balls to fit de bihiggist bills t’ make da bahiddist bihitches bawl bowls for Yours.”

So I like to throw an extra bit of dren at the end. Keeps the masses on their toes. They love a bit of the old suprise and so do I. Especially when they start their relentless, mindless chanting of ‘Ya-Ya! Ya-Ya!’ So why are they a chanting mine own name, you ask? Well, I guess now is as good a time as any to explain. We are the Pulse and you know this. Everyone knows this; we are responsible for maintaining certain standards of being The Pary People; producing the best music and the baddest rhymes to keep hitting this grey city with the biggest buzz all year round. The people love the buzz. It keeps them alive and it is my gift to them. Thus, my brothers and sisters, they love me.

“Truly.”

[Clarrke Benq]

So the calls were from work. As expected. What wasn't expected was that they were well wishers whom had heard I had been caught up in a robbery. Even my boss, Pointy Hair freak, understood why I wasn't fixing his latest inability to access the basic functions of his terminal. Hey, good news in what was a crappy week.

So. Home.

The palce was okay i guess. Modest, for I wasnt rolling in credits. But given I was single and didnt spend a lot of money on useless crap, it was pretty well appointed and surprisingly tidy for a baching pad. Couple of rooms, a kitchen and a refresher, bit of an entertaiment space with a nerf hide couch and entertainment screens / consoles, a sound system that would make an audiophile blow their load, one of the rooms stacked with computer bits and the other room that was where I spent most of my time when i wasn't working. You see, while I was a pretty good tech and frankly, a bit geeky with my love of electronics, I also liked to invent stuff. All sorts of weird stuff like the toaster that could double as a portible missle launcher, it expelled carbonised yeast based products so hard, the blender that also doubled as a cooling fan and an assortment of other things that I was pretty sure weren't quite legal. I just made sure the experiment I had left behind before that damn robbery was still going (Surprise... it hadn't blown up or caught fire), before wandering over to the food unit and pulling out a cold alcoholic beverage of some description. We carbon based life forms got off on alcohol. I know that sounds disgusting, but humans are weird as far as the Galaxy goes. Personally, knowing some other species get high off spoilt nerf juice was enough to churn the stomach. Alcohol in the end, while a mild poison, isnt a bad thing to get blasted on.

Could be worse. Could be vomit.

Come to think of it, not many realised that oxygen burners like humans preferred an atmosphere that had 20% of the atmo a noxious and highly reactive poison. Put a being that lived in say a methane atmo into an oxy one like Coruscant and watch how fast they die an agonisng death as the Oxygen burns them. It's weird to think humans seem so fragile and yet are perfectly suited to what is in reality a very harsh atmo prameter. It was the very fact that humans burn Oxy to survive that allows for alcohol to work on us.

And boy I though as I took a swig, at times like this I so appreciated that fact. Sweet ale, the nectar of the Gods. Cold, just the way it was intended. I saw a box of unopened snacks, next to the holo remote. Beer, snacks, holo. Now....

I flicked the screen on.

"OH HELL YEAH! BABEWATCH!"

Owned. who cared what species they were, as long as they looked vaguely human and had huge tracts of land. And were in bikinis. And played Frisbee death match.

I ignored the holocomm announcing I had another call. Nothing would stop me from appreciating female beings in bikinis playng Frisbee Death Match - I'm a red blooded male I knew where my piorities lay. Besides, I'm single. I had beer. and I had...

.... wait, let me check my notes, there's somethign missing....

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!! NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

Twenty minutes later I closed the door and put the pizza on the table. Right, crisis solved. Cant have Bikini Frizbee death Match, Beer and not have pizza. It's not right, is it? And of course, not a spec of vegetable on the pizza. And of course, flatulence level was rising. Wiht each piece of pizza and alcohol, the burping got louder, until I ripped one off that I swear rattled the ceiling. Impressed, I gave out a slightly drunken whoop, before turning my attention to the rest of the food and the alcohol, ignoring the beeping of the comm unit attention call once again. Hey, why let some dumb butt spoil my fun? Probably some SOB wanting a printer fixed for their soooo important personal letter to some agony aunt. Like it was more important than one of the girls getting their bikini ripped off by the frisbee in slo mo.

--

Morning

I was in pretty good order, considering the bottles on the table. Washed, shaved, fresh for work at the oh so wonderful Wayland Yutanti Corp, answering comms about petty stupidity. What wonderful crap would be backed up in my comm messages from the last week?

Thinking of that, I decided to check out the message hold on my personal Comm unit. Let's see what I ignored last night.

"Hi Clarrke, Manning here, heard about you run in with the robbers. Damn man, you should be..."

I fast forwarded to next message.

"Clarrke, Jackque here, got a priter problem that bneeds looking at urgently..."

Yeah yeah. Good for you

"Benq, I want that report on my desk..."

Riiiigggghhhhhttttt. Catch up with the news dude. I've been having enforced Zees

"Mr Benq. We know where you live" Click.

I paused and rewound.

"Mr Benq. we know where you live". Hung up quick. Female vocie, trying to disguise. Hmmm. I had a think, then went to the closet to change to a long trench coat. Hmmm. what was that last one all about? A threat? A promise to have wild sex with me? a debt collector?

Odd. Well, given what I had been through last week, might be worthwhile to think it wasnt a prank and get some insurance.

[AmyLee Tivenel]

Here in the deep places of the city that never slept, the noise was a background hum. Beings talking, walking, frelling, living. There was an energy that you could feel if you stopped for long enough, a life all of it's own. Of course, for a single female to stop and loiter was dangerous. Best that you had a cloak to cover your head and hurried to your destination, not stopping and not looking but where your next step was going to be. she had gotten good at the typical hurried crouch and she had also gotten good at dodging the refuse and waste that littered the dirty sidewalks. God knows what some of lumps were and frankly, she didnt want to find out. What scared her most that it might not turn out to be an ooze but a life form.

In all her dreams and even in her nightmares, she never imagined life could be so varied. So wonderful and at the same time, so disgusting. Amylee also tried to breathe through her mouth, to help sate the stench down here. God, how could beings live in this place? Willingly, she added to herself. She was living down here because she couldn't afford anywhere else - and she was out and about because she was hungry and needed somethign to eat. Her credits were too low to really afford a good meal now, so she was takign to scavaging some of the diners that were about this place. She wasn't too skilled at it, but it was keeping her alive. Scrap bins stank and were probably unhealthy. But, what choice did she have?

Leave

Yes, it occured to her that she should. But....

She had checked the prices of tickets home.

She closed her eyes and squeezed the thoguht, the admission out of her brain. No. She would go home. She would find a way.

Her steps today were taking her up a few levels, to a generally better place. a bit cleaner, a bit less desperate. A bit better smelling. A bit less rubbish. Just as little hope however. She walked on, still head bowed and face hidden, until she began to smell something. a glance up told her her nose was right - an eatery. a small one by the looks of it, well lit and cheerful, At the bottom of a several story building that was only really lit on the first floor. It was pretty clean too.

Her stomach rumbled. The scents coming from the open door was enough to drive her insane. Unlike the eaterys in the lower areas near her room, this place even smelt like it knew how to cook. That meant scraps that were better. A few months ago, she would have been too proud to even contemplate what she would do next. Now, faced between starving and pride.... at least there was no one else about to see her shame.

Creeping around to the alley around the back, she quickly located what she wanted. to her surprise, the bins were rodent free. Even more surprisingly, they were clean and well kept. and to her small delight, actually had something that looked edible. deft and quick fingers skimmed about, locating a piece of ... fruit!!! She found fruit!!! And it was still fresh! Now truly delighted, she bit into the soft flesh, relising the juice that came out. She nearly cried with joy.

"Oh Blessed Ones, thank you, thank you, thank you!" she cried softly. "Thank you for this joy!"

"Your welcome"

She screamed, whirling about with ther heart wanting to burst out of her chest. She could have sworn that she was alone. Who... where?!?! She looked about in terror, before locating the speaker. He was tallish, hidden in the shadows of the alley. He was softly spoken, but mroe to the point, he had done somethign she hadn't known any other being on this planet beign capable of.

He spoke her native tongue!!!!

She hadn't meant it, but the praise of the Blessed Ones was spoken in her brith language. She stood there transfixed as the speaker came out of the shadow, to stand closer in the light of the back window of the eatery. it seemed liek a dream and it must have been a mistake. No one spoke...

"Did my ears decieve me? You speak in the manner of The Blessed Ones?" he said softly. "How is this so? Speak so I may know if it was a dream"

She googled, before somehow finding the ability to say anything, even in Basic. "I... how... you understand? How?"

"I learned High Tongue many, many years ago" he said. His accent was not one she could pick, but was pleasant to hear and soothing. "I am not a stranger to your planet, if I am not mistaken. You are you doing so far away from home Youngling and why are you scrounging for scraps like a Cursed One?"

"I came here to chase dreams like a fool. I have no money to buy food any more"

He stood, staring at her. "Dreams are not for the foolish, Youngling. Treasure them while you still can. But, it is not right you belittle yourself like this. Please, come with me"

"Where?" she asked, suddenly suspicious.

"Why, inside" he said, sounding surprised. "I meet one so far from home, it would be rude not to ask her inside my abode. Is this not common courstesy to shelter weary travellers?"

"But... you are not of... I mean to say, you are not of us?" she said, recoverign from her shock. "Your speech is pesant, but it is unknown in tone. You are well spoken and yet, you are not of the High"

"No, that is true" he admitted. "But, my wife is. Please, would you come with me and join us for dinner?"

Her mind wanted to be cautious. But, her stomach overrode that.

--

Inside the eatery, it was just as inviting and cheery. Amylee kept her hood up, suspicious a bit, but still almost overwhelmed. The smells of this place were maddening. she trailed the mysterious man to a table in the corner. She hardly realised that the man was speaking well before they got to the table, that fact only came to her attention when he switched from Basic (Addressign an alien), to when they came to the table, where he switched to the soft and gentle accented High Tongue.

"Look what I found. Please, come a bit more forward Miss....?"

"Amlylee Tivenel" she said nervously in Basic.

The woman seated at the table stared at her. She had steely glint in her eye, a toughness about her that radiated from her. But what was more remarkable was the fact she was also exceedingly beautiful, Amylee found her mind going blank as she stared in almost horror. surely... "Tivenel? A most apt name, if you sing well. Many times in my Father's court, a Tivenel would sing for us. But, I have no recall of one by the name Amylee"

OH MY GOD!!!! she mentally screamed. And promptly, became too overwhelmed and fainted.

The man and the woman exchanged glances.

"She seems to have recognised you, Oh Noble Lady" he said.

"Indeed. Draw her up onto a seat, if you would - everyone is staring at us. But I must say, how exceedingly odd. A Tivenel? Here? Why?"

"I really dont know" he replied, picked Amylee up. " But I found her outside raiding the bins"

"She was scavenging?"

"It would seem so. I wonder why?"

[Randi]

"Wake up, sleepy head."

The voice was decidely masculine. Randi, in that state of sleep where one hears what's going on around them but doesn't quite consciously comprehend it, mutters incoherently under her breath and rolls over.

"Randi! Get up, lazy girl!" A jarring shake accompanied the voice that time, rousing Randi from her sleep.

"WHAT!? Geesh, can't you leave me alone for ...."

Slowly, her eyes lift upwards, falling upon the face of the man looming over her. Instantly, her face grows pale and her shoulders sag; a defeated sigh escapes her lips.

"Betcha' never thought you'd be seeing me again, eh, babe?"

A cigarette was placed between his lips then lit. He drew a long, slow drag and exhaled the smoke right into her face, flashing her a sardonic grin.

Randi coughed, waving her hand before her face to shoo away the wretched, stinky cloud lingering in the musty air.

"What bonehead at the precinct lost their marbles and let you out, Frankie?"

Randi tossed back the ratty old blanket she had been using and set her legs over the side of the cot. She winced, the tensing of her thigh muscle send a fresh shot of pain radiating around the entirety of her thigh from where she'd been shot twice just a few nights or so ago.

"Eh. I've got connections.", he states as he stands and struts across the room to lean back against a cold wall.

"Look. We know where that guy lives. Here's what you're going to do, babe." You're going ...

"I AIN'T doin' nothin', Frankie. I'm done with this. I'm done with all of it -including you!"

In a flash, Frankie was all over Randi likes flies on ... garbage. Caring little for her healing injuries, he shoved her back on the cot and pinned her down by pressing both of her wrists above her head, straddling her chest. Angry, Randi's eyes flashed and her brows dove down deeply; etching deep lines into the smooth flesh of her forehead.

"GET OFF OF ME!", she shouted up to him through gritted teeth; the words spewing forth like venom spit from the fangs of an asp.

"You just don't get it, do ya' babe? What's it going to take to sink it into that thick, pretty little head of yours that there is no out? What? Maybe I'll just have to ..."

The cigarette dangling between his lips was drawn from again, deeply, forcing the cherry to burn a bright fiery orange-red glow. It's removed and the seering hot tip is placed so close to her cheek that she can feel the heat. Randi cringes deeper against the pillow; fearful of turning her head lest she turns her cheek right into the red-hot cherry.

"Get it yet, babe? I - own - you. There is no getting out alive."

'What have I gotten myself into!?', she panicks mentally; staring wide-eyed up at Frankie and nodding her head so subtlely that the movement is hardly noticable. Frankie pushes her wrists harshly against the cot then gets off of her, eyeing her coldly.

"Here's what you're going to do."

Randi sits up, rubbing her sore wrists, half-heartedly listening as Frankie informs her of just what her next moves are going to be against one Clarrke Benq.

[Taataani Meorrrei]

"Hello, all you survivors!"

Two blonde-haired human males in sweater vests entered the room, catching the attention of everyone at the SPA meeting. Nobody said a word at their unexpected arrival. The Hutt grunted as she turned her massive bulk to get a better look at the newcomers. Beatrix drooled a little.

The SPA meetings were normally chaired by Graag, a Barabel who made it a point to be noticed and obeyed. He was at the eye of this carnivorous hurricane, and the only thing keeping from tearing Coruscant apart. Unfortunately, he was floored with a stomach virus, and couldn't get it together for this weekly session.

In Graag's place, Sentient Predation Anonymous got...

"Hi, I'm Mat."

"And I'm Jon."

They spoke in a smarmy, insincere tone that implied they were both very accomplished at pretending to care about your problems. Mat and Jon were probably the kind of people who would convince you that a timeshare was the best way to get away from it all. They probably had a patented twelve step program for installing their morning enemas. Further, it was probably all written down in their book, available for the low price of 32 credits, but for group members, available with an additional 15% discount. They were professional helpers. The kind of people who would work tirelessly to fix all of your debilitating problems, until you were healed and new problems had to be invented.

"We know your sessions are normally tended to by Graag..." Mat began.

"...but I'm afraid he's been put a little under the weather by a stomach bug." and Jon fished the second half of the sentence out without missing a beat. The two motivational speakers continued this tandem monstrosity like they were joined at the hip.

Taa sighed, suddenly wishing she'd found an excuse to miss this week's session. She'd lived among Mats and Jons years before either Mat and Jon were born. Cizerack were especially gifted with that particular brand of manufactured sincerity. It made it all the more bitter to taste your own medicine.

"We normally look over the bi-weekly 'Straight and Narrow' Semicircular Chronic Conjunctivitis seminar, but in Graag's absence..."

"...well, we were obligated to step in for a friend..."

"...and, to help out so many of you who are here in need, and ready to face your problems."

Mat and Jon both paused from their metered monologue, smiling to their audience probably because somebody somewhere insisted to them that it paid dividends to do so.

gurgle

Sigh.

Suck it in.

Repeat.

Taataani busied herself by intensely examining an extended claw, and doing everything possible to keep her irritation, hunger, and cynical ennui from boiling over the pot's lid. The other attendees were enduring the canned delivery with similar irritation. Some were better than others at doing so.

The Hutt roared in a thick bass voice in her native language. As she shook about, her protocol droid informed both Mat and Jon of her distinct displeasure at having somebody stand-in for Graag. The bloated slug ran a slick tongue over her wide, drooling mouth as she listened for the droid's translation.

Across the room, the bad mood was spreading. Amamopolia seemed to uncoil from her resting spot, and her fur bristled as she walked to the window.

Greearr mewled something unintelligible. Beatrix even less so.

Aaveerra caught Taataani's eye, and they shared a moment in wordlessly expressing their exasperation with this meeting.

The only person who seemed nonplussed by it all was Daviko, who seemed content with returning to his Namana juice, after liberating the newspaper from Greearr. Taa's attention lingered on him for a moment, before returning to Aaveerra, who was reaching for her purse, ready to leave.

"Wait just a moment" Mat chimed in, aware of his audience's disapproval.

"I know what you're thinking." Jon followed his counterpart's lead. "No, neither myself or Mat have succumbed to sentient predation."

This elicited a sigh from Beatrix, who crossed her long, hairy arms.

"We're going to be honest with you." Mat said, with metered vocal timbre and body language, designed to diffuse tension. "It is true we've never killed another intelligent life form for food. However, I think I can speak to you on a common thread, because...I have a revelation to make."

Taa hid her rolling eyes as the drama machine turned on.

"I..." Mat faltered, exactly on queue. "...am a survivor of the eating disorder, Bulemia."

Jon placed a hand on his counterpart's shoulder, and nodded with the precise amount of faux sympathy to sell it.

Taa's head sagged nearly into her lap.

gurgle

Sigh.

Suck it in.

Repeat.

Taa's eyes widened, and she began to suck on her bottom lip.

And that's when the lights in the room went out. Coincidentally, it was also the last time that either Mat or Jon were ever seen alive.

[The Lonely Galaxy]

The LONELY GALAXY has much to say on many topics. Here's what it says on something totally random

Totally random - a selection of an object, a number, anything really without bias or preselection. Also can be used to describe an action that had no forewarning or was unexpected to the nth degree.

Much like this post. What, you expected something coherent and interesting? You should read TLG posts again young being! You expect much!

[Clarrke Benq]

Now... where was I? Ahhh, walking out the door. I had my coat on, which hid my insurance. Down the corridor, to the lifts. Just the standard airheads and dimwits who occupied otherwise useful space. Why was it, I thought, there was such a lack of intelligent life on this planet of countless billions? The lift lobby was fairly empty. That was good. There was none of the nosy idiots that asking inane questions about life and made bad jokes. That was better.

The lift had some sort of alien in in with the worst B.O. imaginable. That wasnt so good. Especially as the lift got more crowded on it's way down and it got more packed. I ended up with my face in that damn thing's armpit. Least, I hope it was. You could never tell with some of the aliens. The show I seen on anal mastication put me off food for a week. Eventually, B.O. Buddy gets out, leaving to gasp for breath and recover until the lift reached ground level. Not that the air outside was any better. Coruscant is rank because it doesnt get flushed often enough and there's not enough natural filters left. The air has this metallic taste, the air always felt stale. I had been off planet twice and I can tell you, the air was just simply better.

Anyway, let me tell you about myself. As you have gathered, my name is Clarrke Benq. I'm getting to my mid thirties, I'm a human and I guess I'm pretty fit. I have a perchance for a pony tail, dark sunshades (which I never take off if I can help it), I am pretty much your average human. I dont do drugs, I aint a crim, I certainly aint a Jedi (which, if you ask me is a brilliant scam. The Force... ha! Pull the other one!) and I'm not really all that rich either. Comfortable fr myself. I'm a Coruscant native, although the sector I lived in is far from the sector Mother and Father are. I tend to keep my distance - I dont like them. I dont think they are thrilled with me either. I'm what they call a slacker. In reality.... yeah, I am. I have a job as a technical assistant in a huge company called Wayland Yutani, I fix the terminals and other electronics. That I would say is what realyl stands me out - I am undeniably a technical whiz. Anything electronic, I can rebuild it or fix it. I like tinkering and inventing too. Gets me into trouble sometimes, but I can deal with it. The more powerful, the better.

Lets see, I'm not gay even though there's no real love interest. as I said, I'm a slacker or as I like to put it, a Freelance Bum. I got that type of outlook on life.

So anyway. Thats Clarrke. Boring, eh? Personally, I wouldn't have it any other way. I live my life, fix crap up, drink alcohol and eat pizza, tinker and blow stuff up now and then. Money from tech support gives me what I want and I dont really see the point in more. The sun's good to feel on your face, another day alive is another cool day and a bed to sleep in. It's a life and it suits me.

So anyway, here I walking from the apartment complex that extends a crazy distance into the air, heading off to work. It's about 45 minutes walk, which suits me. Dont see why I need to catch a hoverbus except when it's raining and even then, it's rare it rains. It's also predictable cause in the main, weather is controlled by satellite. Now and again one malfunction like the day I walked in on the robbery, but it's not like it's hugely inconvenient. Besides, it washes the place and believe me, Coruscant needs washing.

Come to think of it, there not enough water in the Galaxy to wash the crap outta this place. Coruscant could define what filth is. Oh you know, beings get attracted to the palce cause at a distance all the towers realyl spirkle in the sunlight and a whole planet converted to a city is indeed an engineering marvel, and it is the centre of power and commerce for the Galaxy - but when you get close, you can see the dirt. If you lift the skrit, you see worse. I've been to the lower levels and it's not pretty. I know beings who seriously think a day spent on any level below 100 as an adventure in slumming. Well, wait till you get below nominal ground level, it's a whole new experience. Slumming doesnt do it justice. New damn lifeforms have arisen in the sewers and thankfully they dont go above ground. You know there just simply isnt any need for any being to even come out into the open? Indeed, some beings live their entire lives inside these massive buildings and the vast network of connection tubes and transport, never sensing the sun on their skins. weird I know, but true.

Now, it sounds like I'm dissing the place out? Well, i guess I am, although I also love being here. There's an energy to Coruscant that no other place has, a vibe and an attitude. As I said, I'm a native and the place is in my blood. In fact, I'm pure blood Coruscant. My family has lived here for God knows how long, probably even before the city was just a glimmer of thought. There's been a few decent Benq's, but in the main we're more your good ol alcohol swilling pod racing inbreds that have a speeder in parts. Scratch the inbred bit and you have me to a T. I'm proud of it too. I'm one of the few with a decent education, which is why I work Tech instead of maintenance in the lower levels. I dunno why the rest lke stepping in crap all day, I certainly dont. That's why Mum and dad think I'm a slacker, I dont get my hands dirty.

Pfffft.

Now, this place I work at, Wayland Yutanti. It's one of these big mega corps that dot the business Galaxy. Big multi sector operation. Does pretty much anything, owns assets on thousands of planets. Family owned, which means the Patriach of them, Keqqi Pachquard, is one of the most stinking rich beings on the known universe. I've met the guy in fact. You see, even if I'm a lowly tech, I'm damn good. I could be going up the corporate ladder, but frankly I like tech too much and I aint cut out for management. He gave me a bonus chit that buys a lot of loyality to a company. I know its weird one of them upper tower types even knows grunts like me exist, but as i said, I'm good at tech. They keep me even though I'm not exactly reliable because if the job's hard, I get it done.

Dunno when Wayland started. what I do know is that now, the building I'm getting close to is literally 3 or 4 klicks tall, one of the tallest spires on the area. A massive comms tower added 500 meters to it's height. The building is cleaner than it's neigbours too, cause as I said, Pachquard is filthy stinking rich and keeps appearences up. I have a pretty good security clearence (actually, there's a bit of reverse pshycology going on here. They give me access so I wont go slice access for myself) as they think I can be trusted. That's one thing I certainly am - trustible. I also dont go looking. It's weird, but I have all info access and yet I have no idea what's going on.

Story of my life, really.


(BRB for more of this post)