STAR WARS: HAND OF PHRIKE
CHAPTER ONE: AWAKENING
Coruscant, 3653 BBY
Jedi Temple
Most people of the galaxy, when they think about the Jedi Knights, think of the epic battles fought decades ago, rife with heroism and daring deeds. However, most Jedi were in fact more peaceful than the galaxy would care to believe, spending much of their day meditating over the living or Unifying Force or training for the days that the opposite of peace may be needed to preserve the Republic. Such was happening on this particular day, as a Master sat cross-legged on a mat while his Padawan blocked laser bolts from a training drone.
Neither of them could've guessed what kind of chaos was to come that day, but both seemed to know that something was not right. The Padawan waved his hand to shut off the drone and turned to his Master. "Master Kalm, do you feel that something is… off about today?"
Kalm looked up, seeming equally perturbed. "Yes… but then again, this sort of feeling has been normal for the past couple of years."
"Do you think the Republic will do it? Take the Sith's offer?"
Now Master Kalm sighed. "It would not be wise to completely trust the Sith, Rhett. However, if this war does continue, I fear for the survival of the Republic."
Rhett looked down, despondent. "Do you think the Sith will try something today?"
"I doubt it; with both delegations at Alderaan right now, I highly doubt that the Sith would even dare-"
Right about then, there was a loud hum in the air, as if some electrical generator within the Temple has just keeled over and died. Figuratively speaking, of course.
"What was that?"
Kalm looked up, the look on his face growing more and more worried. Then he stood up and took out his lightsaber. "That was the defense grid; it's been shut down. We need to get out of here."
There was a crashing and crumbling of mortar in the main halls, causing Rhett to grab his own lightsaber before realizing it was a training model. "Blast… Master Kalm, I need-"
"Even if you had a true lightsaber, I doubt that it would help you much if that sound means what I think it means." Kalm crept up to the door and slid it open, only to see destruction like he had never seen on Coruscant. In the center of the rubble, there was a large starcraft that had apparently crash-landed right into the Temple. Kalm and Rhett saw the Grand Master, Ven Zallow, peer into the open doors of the shuttle.
Their blood went ice cold when one, then twenty, then fifty red lightsabers ignited in the darkness.
"Rhett."
"Yes, Master."
"Run."
Rhett stared at his Master in incomprehensible shock. "But… isn't running away giving into fear?"
"My Padawan, the Force will tell you when it is time to fight or run. Right now, it's telling us to run." He flashed a smile, one of those smiles that was almost fatherly in its brightness. "Shall we?"
Rhett had little choice. He took off after Kalm, who was opening a secret door that would lead to the hanger bay of the Temple, where salvation awaited…
Planetoid 4010-1101
Corporate Sector, 2 BBY
"Viia, I hope your right about this one, otherwise we've got slugs to deal with."
"Don't worry, Grieg," Viia Montala told her superior. "I've checked this one out in the Headhunter; from the looks of it, it dates back to roughly the Cold War era of the Republic's history, so there's got to be something interesting in it."
Grieg Salborra stroked his bearded chin in thought. "Hmm… Even if we do find something, what if it's illegal by Imperial standards? We'll have a hard time shaking them off our backs."
"Pardon me, Captain, but when have you ever cared about legality?" Viia asked playfully. "We're smugglers for crying out loud; the Empire is complete bantha fodder to us."
Viia smiled at her wittiness. She was Mirialan, a species of Near-Humans that dwelled on the cold planet of Mirial. Circumstances she didn't like to talk about led her to joining the crew of the saucer-shaped YT-1930 known as The Red Recluse, which included Grieg Salborra, a native of Raltiir. Unlike other Mirialans, she had no markings or tattoos on her face that were common amongst her people; she wouldn't say why to anyone.
Grieg was the polar opposite of Viia in so many ways. While Viia was small and lithe, the Raltiiri captain was tall and buff, sporting a full red beard and mustache along with a full head of red hair. A diagonal scar ran across his left eye, a reminder of a run-in with a fierce nashtah lizard.
"I hope you're right, kid. Creesk, how are we doing on fuel?"
At the engineer's console was a small, bird-like Mrlssi by the name of Creesk Krishee. He looked up and nodded at the captain, his multicolored plumage bobbing atop his head like some crazy hat. "We should be good for the next few hours. But after this run, I highly recommend that we return to Bonadan."
Grieg's ears always hurt after listening to Creesk's high-pitched voice. But he wasn't going to get a better engineer anywhere else, so he kept the bird-man around.
Sitting in the back chair, a hulking furry creature nodded in agreement. This was a Yuzzem named Rha'kl, Grieg's first mate. Much like a Wookiee, Yuzzems were strong and quick to anger, but were as loyal as any Wookiee could be once they owed a life debt.
"Alright, Viia… you're up."
Smiling even brighter, Viia dashed down the corridor leading to the main hull, where a Z-95 Headhunter was docked on top. She shimmied up through the turret, where normally a laser emplacement would be, and came up in the Z-95's cockpit. Putting on a flight helmet for protection, she detached the craft from the Recluse and took off towards her destination.
It was a mere couple of moments before Viia made it to a large asteroid of about three hundred kilometers, floating in the middle of the vacuum with no evidence of an origin asteroid belt. There was a small portal on the side, its plasma shield revealing that which otherwise was hidden.
Viia steadied the Headhunter into a docking speed, then landed within the man-made docking bay. Hopping out, she surveyed the disarray before walking up to the blast door that led to the interior.
One of the other reasons Grieg kept Viia around was her so-called "knack" for avoiding danger. This came in a slight premonition that warned her of any threats around her, helping her crew avoid many a sticky situation.
Her knack told her that something was not right beyond this door. Drawing her blaster, a DL-18 pistol, she crept up to the mechanism and pressed it, opening the door.
As soon as she did, a stream of green blaster bolts shot out, barely missing the Headhunter. She rounded the corner and pulled the trigger twice, firing three red bolts. One collided with a green one, exploding harmlessly, while the other two found their mark in the shooter. There was another explosion, then a clattering of metal onto the durasteel floor.
Still holding her blaster, Viia emerged from the corner to find that what she shot at was virtually an antique. It was a droid, a security model made by the long-defunct Duwani Mechanical Products. Instead of hands, the droid had two blaster rifles for arms.
"So that settles it," Viia murmured to herself. "The age is the Cold War."
She started walking down the hallway that she found herself in, blaster at the ready in case any more homicidal clankers decided to show up. About ten meters in she found another door, one that was a little better preserved than the first.
She pressed the button to open it. What she found inside practically knocked the wind out of her.
In the middle of the room there was a human-sized slab of carbonite. As its size would suggest, there was a young human male encased in the slab, a look of distress upon his face.
Poor guy, Viia thought. She looked at the monitors, which surprisingly were still completely functional. They showed signs of being repaired, which was impossible unless—
She whirled around to bring her blaster on another droid, this time of the utility model from Duwani. Sighing, she started to put her blaster away before realizing that this saucer-headed droid, the T3, could be packing weapons.
The droid began whistling. Who are you? was what Viia understood.
"Just passing through, little guy." This thing's not going to kill me. "Do you know what this place is?"
Did you dismantle the GTA-4 outside?
"Um… yes, but only because it shot at me."
The droid paused. Are you a friend of the Republic?
Viia sighed again. "The Republic is dead. All that's left is the Empire."
The droid let loose a series of loud warbles before asking, And you work for the Empire?
"Not at all! I hate the Empire!" Pulling herself back from her anger, she continued, "My name is Viia Montala; I'm an engineer aboard The Red Recluse. A smuggler, for lack of a better term."
There was a pause as the T3 unit processed this. Then it whistled, I am T3-C9, property of Rhett Ordan, Jedi Knight."
Viia's heart skipped a beat. "Is that the guy in the carbonite?"
Another pause as T3-C9 wheeled its head around to look at the encased human. Then it turned to Viia and simply said, Yes.
She felt like she was having a completely mental breakdown. A Jedi Knight? Alive? If the Empire didn't have such an anti-Jedi policy, this was a chance to peer through an age lost to history!
The crew of The Red Recluse would be rich!
"Can you wake him up?"
Yet another pause. Processing… checking internal hard drive… Time passed since original incarceration: Three-thousand six-hundred and fifty-two years. The droid's single eye flashed between red and blue as it processed the passage. Yes, I think it's time to wake him up.
It wheeled up to the computers and stuck one of its adapters into a small slot. T3-C9 spun this adapter until it heard a click, then watched alongside Viia as the carbonite defrosted, slowly releasing Rhett Ordan.
Now that Viia could get a better look at him, she figured that he was around her age… plus three thousand six hundred and fifty-two years.
This was going to be a great day.
The first thing that came back to Rhett was touch. The pain of being defrosted was horrible.
The second thing to come back was taste; there was still blood in his mouth.
The third was smell. His first thoughts were of a sterilized med-center.
Fourth was hearing; he heard a spot of droidspeak with a woman's voice responding.
Finally, the sense he feared would never return did. He could now see that he was no longer inside Master Kalm's cruiser.
"Where am I?" He asked the Mirialan girl before collapsing onto the floor.