STAR WARS : THE CLONE WARS
MISSION 47 - EPISODE ONE: MURDER MOST FOUL
by Wes Calam Lesley (pseudonym)
WHAT DOES NOT BEND IS BOUND TO BREAK
Murder!
Jedi Master Pakk Midan is arrested by Mondooran authoraties on charges of regicide. Queen Shaellae saw her husband King Vonset the sixth slain with Midan's own lightsaber which was dropped by the assailant when fleeing the scene. The Jedi now only has five days to find and apprehend the real culprit whose identity, whereabouts and motive remain a mystery.
We begin at the Mondooran prison.
The Human Padawan Bram Dant stands before the cell where his Togruta Master, Pakk Midan sits calmly.
"I don't get it, Master! This cell is nonsense. They know that!" Bram exclaims, teeth firm together. "The fact that you haven't just -walked out- of here is-"
Pakk interrupts.
"Exactly why I must remain here. Jedi don't go where they please, we are part of something much larger than ourselves. With the Republic close to bankruptcy from the cost of the war, we cannot alienate those few that can keep the economy stable, during, and after the war."
Bram turns away, full of all sorts of thoughts and doubts which are hard for him to handle. He feels helpless.
"You are young, resourceful, talented, intelligent and my best friend. I have unyielding trust in your abilities, and -you-. You'll do fine on your own."
Bram replies with his back still turned. "So we're going to just accept this? And if you're wrong, are you going to let them execute you to keep the ties between the Mondoorans and the Republic alive?"
An unsettlingly calm "If I must."
Bram turns around, passionately trying to explain himself. Pakk Midan is unphased, having already decided to stay a "prisoner".
"This is ridiculous! They know us here! If we were assassins, why would we wait this long?"
"Perhaps so no-one would suspect us?"
"You sound like one of them!"
Pakk sighs. "I've already decided, Bram. I've already contacted the council, and requested who would be put in charge of this investigation."
"Investigation? You mean you didn't even call for help?"
"Jedi are spread thin across the galaxy as it is. Besides, I have the most capable, intelligent, and resourceful -Jedi Knight- on the job."
The Padawan jumps straight at that one. "Let me contact him."
"Why?"
"I want to help him clear your name!"
"That'll be very difficult and extraordinarily easy."
Bram doesn't understand. "What do you mean?"
"It's -you-."
A short pause in the conversation. It feels much longer than it is.
"You said Jedi Knight."
"Your ascension is overdue. I have nothing else to teach you, my Padawan. Think of this as your graduation mission."
Bram smirks. "You're taking all this pretty lightly."
"And you're taking in the negatives. I get the feeling you feel like I've been what's gotten you through the war so far. But you do quite well on your own. Think of this as your final lesson. Some confidence you well deserve."
Another one of those pauses.
"So where will you start your investigation?"
"I already asked around. A cloaked individual was seen fleeing from the palace towards the spaceport in district two-one-seven-oh. Only three ships took off between the time of the murder and when the port was locked down by security. Two of them have been pulled in for questioning and released, simple cargo freighters doing routine deliveries. The third... is gone."
"Then what will be your next move?"
Bram smiles with a datachip in hand. "Following his engine signature, obviously."
Which he does, taking our hero to Tattooine.
He approaches the desert planet disguised as a smuggler, in the classic smuggler outfit Han Solo would one day* make famous. If Lando can wear those clothes, so can Bram! His lightsaber is completely covered in a leather pack at the back of his belt. The ship, a YT-1000 designated 'Starbird', lands outside of Mos Eisley and powers down.
He walks into the hold and approaches something covered in a big sheet. From the shape it's either a hoverbike or a wooden rocking horse.
"Figures. Follow pond scum long enough, and you find a lake full of them." followed by a sigh. "I can't wait to get this over with."
Bram pulls the sheet off whatever it was covering. It's not a wooden rocking horse.
Soon after he speeds into the city, using the Force to look around, driving the hoverbike with his eyes closed.
He stops nearby a cantina, where they play a tune that will be a time-honored classic even after order 66. Bram's face gives away he senses something wicked nearby, and then his eyes open, with determination. He's close to the killer.
The fledgeling Jedi Knight walks into the cantina and heads straight for the bar, standing next to a big wookie wearing an ammo sash. He has to get by two rather rude droids, a gold plated protocol droid with a face like a pug, and an astromech with the wrong head on. They leave Bram with a very slight sensation of nostalgia, or Deja Vu, as he feels through the Force this should strike him as familiar. So he turns to the big wookie, who has an eyepatch and a massive scar across most of his face.
Bram asks the Wookie, grinning; "Do they even allow droids in here?" and chuckles.
The Wookie huffs and turns away.
Bram looks around, and sees a dead Rodian in a booth being pulled onto the astromech by the protocol droid. While the little bleeping whistler wheels him away, the protocol droid cleans the stain the Rodian left on the seat. He was sitting in the same position where later on Greedo will get killed. Such a strange sensation going through our hero. Is his mind so much in turmoil he's channeling visions of what would follow decades later?
The bartender snaps him out of it with an unpleasant poke, and unpleasant face and an unpleasant voice to match. "What will you have? Let me guess. You don't want a drink. You want information."
Bram smiles. "You must be a Jedi if you can read minds like that."
"No need. Look at you! You know how many of you lowlifes end up here? And you all look the same. What, you dress alike to use each other as decoys in a fire fight?"
"Who knows?"
The Human looks around the room, and along the way he sees a Weequay sitting in front of a booth, drinking. And in the booth behind him, shrouded in shadows, but with two evil, red eyes shining, a droid.
So the Knight tells the bartender, "I've been hired to off this bigshot on one of the inner worlds. Thing is, I don't have the means or skills to pull it off, and the money is too good to walk away from. Know anyone that could take on a King, maybe make it look like someone else did it? Say, I want to frame a Jedi?"
It's loud enough to disturb everyone's conversation and it even shuts up the band.
The Weequay in the back nearly chokes on his drink, but does it silently, and stands up.
"You're pretty stupid for a Jedi."
Bram turns around, and sees Sunzudai, whose name holds his future.
"But then again, you're just the Padawan."
Bram whips out his lightsaber with the Force. This gets the attention of the aforementioned droid, who stays seated... for now.
"And you're easy to provoke. Finding you was much easier than I thought."
Sunzudai pulls out his blaster, and he and Bram stay a distance from each other. The tin man stands up in the background, and approaches the Weequay unseen, stepping out of the shadow.
"You don't scare me, Jedi brat!"
A robot hand taps the Weequay on the shoulder.
"Interruption: Excuse me."
The Weequay whips his head half-back in that direction, then back to keep an eye on his Jedi pursuer.
"What is it, droid?!"
"Query: Am I to understand you plan on attacking a Jedi with a blaster?"
"Of course. He's no match for me."
"Commentary: I see. Thank you. I was getting quite bored."
The droid's hand grips the throat of the killer, and suddenly that neck makes an unnatural 90 degree bend, whereafter his body falls limp to the ground. The kill is swift, clean and flawless - extremely efficient.
From the feet up to his face, HK-47 reveals himself to the Jedi as he steps forward out of the shadow.
"Introductory: Greetings, Jedi Meatbag."
"You know what you just did? You killed the man who could exonerate my Master!"
"Correction: I killed a bounty hunter who works exclusively for Dar Achno. If this meatbag had any answers to give you, they would never be as complete as the answer his Master could provide. Query: If I take you to Dar Achno, can I join you on your mission, Jedi Meatbag?"
"And why do you want to help me?"
"Answer: Undoubtedly you will encounter many dangerous opponents you are not yet fit to handle by yourself. Challenges fit to experienced Jedi Masters. It would bring me great pleasure to crush their frail organic components over extended periods of time."
The Jedi Knight eyes the droid, putting his lightsaber away.
"And what are you?"
"Answer: I am HK-47, a class 4 protocol droid."
"I've never seen a protocol droid that fights or talks like you."
"Admission: Sadly there are no other droids as fluent or efficient in the protocols of assasination and violence as I am."
Ten Weequay bounty hunters in outfits similar to Sunzudai walk in. Through an uncanny stroke of luck, they are named One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight, Nine, and Ten. Their mothers didn't love them.
One calls out, "What is this?! Boss!"
The astromech from before has loaded up the dead Sunzudai and wheels him to the trash processor. He'll be feline supplement number 32 by morning.
"Who did this?! I'll kill whoever's responsible! Who did this?!"
In a comedic beat, everything goes quiet, until at the same time, everyone in the Cantina, except for HK-47, Bram and the Weequay gang points to the droid and the Human.
"Query: Is it my Activation Day? Thank you for this offering of homicidal meatbags."
"What do you mean? They want to kill us."
HK-47 sounds rather happy when he clarifies "Clarification: Exactly."
None of that Greedo shooting first nonsense. HK-47 jumps into the gang of Weequay, grabbing One by the throat, and swinging him around on top of Two, snapping One's neck and snapping Two's spine in a bend, who screams out. He'll take a minute or two to die, but he won't be going anywhere. HK-47 makes a full turn with One's limp body in hand, knocking Three, Four and Five down.
Then he uses it as a dead shield from six blaster shots, before throwing it at his shooters Six and Seven, jumping on top of Eight, who pulled out a thermal grenade. The droid takes the device, which was already armed, and crams it into the Weequay's mouth, who starts to panic and muffles a scream, only to be pulled from the floor and thrown out the door, where an explosion and then screaming is heard.
Three, Four, Five and Six are trying to corner Bram, who holds them off with a lightsaber, and they are wise not to try anything stupid like shooting something he can deflect. They hold their distance.
Nine breaks a chair on HK-47's back, who is unphased, turning around calmly to face his attacker.
"Statement: Your attempts to injure me are laughable, meatbag. Query: May I demonstrate a far more efficient manner of violence?"
He grabs Nine from one side and Ten from the other, hands on their heads, and he swiftly, horribly smashes their skulls together with a sound that makes it obvious he knows how to make a spectacular brain omelette.
HK-47 looks over calmly at Bram, who is surrounded. The droid then turns to two people sitting behind him, and points straight at the bottle on the table they're sitting at.
"Query: May I borrow this?"
Bram is hopelessly surrounded by Three, Four, Five and Six, until Five and Six behind him get ploughed hard by a Sudden Flying Table Of Death making a dynamic entry.
HK-47 is jumped from behind by Seven, who is effortlessly pulled off the droid, and used as a makeshift club, mercilessly whacked against Four, who is already crippled on the floor after the first hit. HK-47 assaults Four with Seven repeatedly, even though they're already both a very particular and sophisticated blend of very, very dead.
The violent droid pulls up Seven and stares him in what's left of his face.
The crackle in the mechanical man's vocal processor is unsettling to any organic who hears him say "Disappointment: Pitiful meatbags. Too frail to be any fun."
Bram has Three at the edge of his lightsaber. Good to see our hero isn't sitting around in this fight.
"Now then. You're going to take me to your boss."
Three spits in Bram's face, who flinches. HK-47, seeing the flinching as the Jedi forfaiting his right to decide the Weequay's fate, covers Three's face with his hand and crushes it into the bar. The stain is so vile any idiot would know right away, that'll need paint.
Two bright, evil red eyes staring at the Jedi, judging. "Assessment: You are far less interesting than other Jedi I have fought beside."
"And you're much more infurating than any protocol droid I'd met before! Are you malfunctioning?"
"Negotiation: If I perform a Core-level Self-Diagnostic on all my systems, and take you to the leader of these men, will you allow me to join you on your mission, Jedi Meatbag?"
"Like you'd be of any use to me."
"Statement: As long as you are alive, you will no doubt attract the attention of the most violent, dangerous bounty hunters in the known galaxy. That is my core reason to join you."
The meatbag reacts upset. "What?! You want to use me as bait to people you'd get to kill?"
"Statement: Indeed, I am most eager to engage in some unadulterated violence." Just as the droid ends that thought, he adds "At your command of course, Master."
"There's no way you can-"
Six is alive and points a blaster at Bram. HK-47 pulls the Jedi Knight away in time to keep the blaster shot from killing him, grabs Bram's lightsaber, and fluently, graciously, decisively, jumps towards Six, doing a bit of a twirl in midair, finishing with decapitating the Weequay efficiently and quite badass. The steel assassin throws the lightsaber back at Bram, who catches it, and puts it away.
"There's no way you can be of any use to me. You're too wild."
Five is alive too, barely. HK-47 walks over and picks him up, lifting him off the ground.
The Weequay is panicing, afraid, helpless. "Wha-What are you going to do to me?!"
"Statement: I'm going to pull your head off, because I don't like your head."
HK-47 puts one hand on Five's throat and the other on his shoulders, ready to perform. Five wets himself, and cries, trying to talk but does so incomprehensibly. Something about his mommy.
"Don't kill him."
HK-47 keeps Five in his grasp but turns his head to Bram.
"Query: You wish me to spare the meatbag who tried to kill you. Why?"
"A test. If you can't follow orders, I can't use you... nor take you along on my mission."
The droid turns his face to stare Five in the sobbing face. "Statement: Thank your Maker."
HK-47 throws Five against the wall, where he bounces off and slams face-first into the floor. He's still alive, coughing and whincing, crying.
"Query: Do you have a ship?"
"Where are we going?"
"Answer: Nar Shaddaa."
Six hours have passed when the Starbird makes its final approach to Nar Shaddaa.
HK-47 is in the back with a whole bunch of weapons. Blasters, grenades, rifles, assault rifles, and big bad looking weapons that don't fit general descriptions but look scary. He also has some melee weapons and, for some reason, a Bat'leth hidden away somewhere.
Bram walks in on the droid polishing his barrel. "So where do we find this Dar Achno?"
"Answer: I do not know."
"I remember you assuring me you know how to find him."
"Statement: Exactly."
Bram sighs. "You just said you don't know."
"Correction: I do not know where he is. Clarification: I do know how to find him. Philosophical pondering: I think that the Maker, in creating Organics, somewhat overestimated His ability."
"Where do we start looking for him?"
"Correction: We do not. We will find his men."
Bram tries to clear the annoyance out of his mind by rubbing his eyes. It doesn't work.
"Did you do that Diagnostic you promised you'd do?"
"Answer: Yes. Query: Do you wish to know the results?"
"Give me the quick rundown. I don't want to hit the streets of Little Coruscant with a malfunctioning droid."
"Diagnostic report: All systems triple-checked. All check. Report: No malicious code found. No hardware malfunctions. No objectionable damage. Memory checked, performing at peak efficiency. No memory leaks. Processing power through all 618'412 chips at 841% above factory standard. Module sets; ..."
Bram walks away, content to hear an "all check". HK-47 goes on, however. Just as Bram is out the door to the hold, HK-47 says something worth noticing.
"... Internal Chronometer, check. Environmental sensors, check. Translation matrix, check. Settings; Language set to Basic. Time set to Coruscant Standard Time. Prejudice set to maximum."
On that note, Bram turns around, and looks at HK-47 a bit concerned, just as the hatch closes. The droid is still rambling off his diagnostic report.
They are assigned dock THX-1138 and one Jedi mind trick later, all the paper work seems to be in order.
Bram and HK-47 walk the streets of the Smuggler's Moon, which is lively and bustling with scum and people of ill repute. The droid isn't armed, though Bram has a blaster on his hip, and his lightsaber in his belt pack. The tin man stops his companion with a hand in his way, and points out into the street.
"Observation: Those obese meatbags carry the same brand as the dead meatbags from the cantina on Tattooine."
A drop dead beautiful (make that gorgeous) young Twi'lek woman is being dragged away by a few Gamorreans. The last of them is dragging a cage full of Twi'lek children, who are sad and crying and scared.
"What are they doing?!"
"Statement: Slavery is still part of organic life. Something which boggles my cognitive algorhythms. Slavery is wrong."
"Good to see you're not a fan of slavery."
"Statement: Of course I'm not. Slavery is based on the fact organic life has any value."
Another one of those pauses that are getting quite popular nowadays.
"After that comment you have to help me save them."
"Statement: Of course, Master. Proposal: You free the female and the small organics, while I eviscerate the fat meatbags."
The two run after the group, following them into an alley where they are loading the cages full of children onto a small freighter.
"That ship does -not- leave the ground."
"Agreement: Yes, Master."
Bram considers something.
"And don't jeopordize the Twi'leks, either! Your primary objective is their safety!"
"Disappointment: Whatever you wish, Master."
The thugs open fire on the pair of them as Bram uses the Force to smash crates into his attackers. HK-47 jumps up at the cockpit, punches through the glass, grabs the pilot, and pulls him up against the glass. He then uses his free hand to smash through the glass again, pulverizing the face of the pilot and killing him with an ancient ninja technique known as "fist into and pretty much through brain".
Bram deflects the fast repetitious shots from a rifleman and takes down three guys, when six more take their place. He throws his lightsaber at Shay, the beautiful girl from before, and calls out at her.
"Get those children out of here!"
Bram knocks a large container suspended overhead down on the approaching attackers, and crushes a few of them. The crackling of bones is pretty audible, even with all the screaming from the two who stick out halfway on the far side. Then his lightsaber returns to his hand just in time to deflect shots from behind.
HK-47 has a steel crate in each hand, using them as boxing gloves against three Gamorreans. Five of them already lay dead on the floor, and the crates are heavily dented from all the violence already committed with them. A few Weequay join in, with daggers. HK-47 throws the objects into the Gamorreans' faces, startling two of them. Just as the third one comes at him, the droid grabs one of the daggers and overhead-plants it into the Gamorrean's skull, whose run turns into a dive towards the floor. HK-47 pulls the knife out of the guy's head and slices the neck of the Gamorrean to his right, while kicking the Weequay behind him back on the floor in the same motion. The Gamorrean on his left attacks, but HK-47 grabs him, picks him up off the ground, and throws him into the other Weequay with his own momentum. This leaves very few uncrushed bones in the fall-breaking Weequay's body, but enough to scream and cry out for help. Our favorite homicidal droid throws the knife into the heart of another Weequay trying to enter the freighter, before smashing the faces of whoever's remaining in his immediate vicinity.
Bram is getting overrun. There is a ridiculous amount of people shooting at him – an obvious sign of a distinct tactical deficiency. Suddenly there are shots fired from a rifle that pass over his head by less than an inch, and take down three Weequay and a Gamorrean who charged at the Jedi. Bram looks back and it's Shay with a clone weapon she got from the cockpit. It has bits of pilot brains on it, but beggars can't be choosers.
She smiles at him. "I don't like owing favors."
He smiles at her. "Oh, trust me! You don't owe me anything!"
They both smile at each other for a heartbeat and then continue the fight, while the few Twi'lek children that were already freed by Shay are now freeing the rest.
About thirty Weequay go after those children, when HK-47 frees up his time, grabs a heavy repeater off a corpse and frees the beast on the assailants. Either by turning them into swiss cheese or by deliving hilarious blunt force trauma to the skull with the business end of the weapon.
The droid switches on his translation matrix and says "Statement: Children, get in that speeder! Hurry!" in perfect Twi'lek tongue.
He also provides covering fire for the children to make it to the speeder, which has just enough space for a droid, a beautiful girl, and twenty-five small to medium-sized children. The Jedi will have to hang on to the tailfin and deflect blaster shots with his lightsaber.
Shay and Bram are fighting the thugs off back-to-back, and they are losing ground. Shay runs out of ammunition, and starts swinging the weapon like a club, but to no effect. Then a large amount of enemies die at the expert shooting of HK-47, in the driver seat of the speeder full of children.
"Statement: We must take these meatbags away from Nar Shaddaa in your ship, Master!"
Shay runs to the speeder, and takes the seat next to HK-47, taking over the repeater to give Bram some covering fire.
Bram then runs after the speeder as it takes off, jumping on to grab the tailfin and steadies himself on back, as they are pursued by a few hoverbikes blasting, trying to hit the engines on the speeder. Bram deflects the shots and knocks three of them out of the sky as HK-47 races them at break-neck speeds through the narrow streets and bends of Nar Shaddaa, finally getting to the Starbird.
The droid takes back the repeater and finishes off the remaining hoverbikes with little effort and maximum efficiency. If you'd blink, you'd have missed it.
Bram stares Shay in the eyes at two inches distance and says "Get these children on board -now-! Get this ship in the air, we'll hold them off!"
Shay, Bram and the children get on board, and HK-47 stays on the boarding ramp, holding on to a strut with one hand and blasting baddies with the other. Bram heads for the ship turrets and takes out a fresh batch of baddies in a large carrier.
Shay starts up the engines and charts a course, getting the party away from the Smuggler's moon, with HK-47 blasting from the boarding ramp as it closes just before hitting the atmosphere.
"Statement: Good job, Master! Since we cannot find Dar Achno, it is only logical that we steal from him."
HK-47 notices Bram is upset by his phrasing, and then looks at the Twi'lek children, afraid and shaken.
"Correction: Err... I mean, -liberated- these pitiful, innocent meatbags."
"And how is that logical?"
"Clarification: Why, Master, now Dar Achno will come to us. Commentary: However, let us hope he sends some more meatbags after us, first."
"Make sure these kids don't cause any trouble. But you are forbidden from harming any of them. Don't even touch them!"
Bram heads toward the cockpit, and sits down in his seat, next to Shay.
Shay keeps her eyes mostly forward as the Jedi sits there being his own trademark brand of annoyed. She's a lot less confident without a peashooter in her hands.
"I know I said I don't like to owe favors but..."
"Don't worry about it."
"I tried to save those children on my own but... instead of being a hero I turned myself into a damzel in distress."
Bram is only slightly annoyed when he bites at her, growling "Oh, just leave it!"
An uncomfortable pause while Bram rubs the stupid out of his eyes.
The Jedi apologises. "Sorry."
"Don't be."
"Sorry."
"Don't be." she smiles.
"Sorry."
"Echo! Echo. Echo. Echo..." An intensely big smile that captures Bram's attention.
He smirks. She winks at him.
"Tell me your story."
Bram takes a deep breath. "My Master, mentor and best friend is accused of a horrible crime he didn't commit. He can easily escape, but that would jeapordize the economic future of the Republic. If he stays put, however, like he intends to, and I fail, he'll be executed unfairly, but for diplomacy's sake."
Bram rubs his fingers over his head, like he's going to pull his hair out.
"Dammit! Why does this war complicate everything so much?!"
He kicks the dashboard hard in frustration.
"I found the murderer but that droid in the back offed him before I could get any answers, and now I have to find his boss, who's unfindable, and we're using you as he's using me."
Shay looks puzzled.
"'Using'?" she asks, concerned.
The Jedi smirks. "Welcome to the world of bait. I have to attract thugs for him to kill, and you attract Dar Achno, who I have to drag to Mondoora to stand trial instead of my Master... after which that droid will probably kill him, too."
The beauty is genuinely worried. "Is it safe to have him back there with the children?"
"As long as they're safe, Dar Achno wants them back so he can sell them. And as long as Dar Achno wants them, he'll send henchmen which our metal friend can kill." He answers her calmly enough to settle her nerves a bit. But not enough.
"If you're trying to reassure me, Jedi, you're not doing a good job."
A massive sigh. "I'm just a Padawan. This mission is my last before becoming a Jedi Knight. I'm not fit to go out on my own."
"Not with that kind of attitude."
Bram gets out of his own worries to stare at Shay. Who wouldn't? She's all kinds of pretty. And she's, shall we say, 'well sculpted'.
"So things don't go the way you plan. Nothing is impossible, that's what I believe. You must learn to bend before you break. Besides, you're a great fighter, you're a good person, and you've got the Force on your side. And you want to put the slaver who has been selling off my people as cattle away for good! Things are looking up."
"You think I can handle this mission?"
"-We- can handle it."
We leave the pair as they smile at each other, trading the scene of the Starbird for that of Dar Achno's lair.
A dark, blueish night-time atmosphere with thin blinds in the background being the only source of light in the room. In the middle of the room is a large holographic projector, and behind it, in front of the blinds, is Dar Achno, covered in darkness, lit up only by the light from his cigar. As he watches the recording of HK-47 and Bram (and Shay) wipe the floor with his gang and steal his slaves, he gets angrier and angrier, sucking the cigar harder each time, lighting up more of his face for a slightly longer time. This guy is pissed, flips his desk through the holographic image, and stomps the floor, roaring.
Dar Achno jumps into the holographic image, lighting him up, as he stands nose to nose with HK-47 and Bram, growling. He's a massive Yuzzem. And boy, is he slightly miffed!
END OF EPISODE ONE
NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR
This story was written in CeltX (but novelized for this site) to be actually sent in to LucasFilms to see what/if they'd respond. It's highly unlikely they'll do this story... but if it gets them interested in getting HK-47 involved in the best incarnation of Star Wars ever, I'd consider that a big win for the good guys. I hope you enjoyed reading it, and if you have an honest opinion on it, good or bad, or even just some questions, please contact me via FanFictionDotNet. Thank you, and Good Night. -Wes Lesley
*May 25th 1977