(A/N) actually, Spifferoonigirl, I did indeed know that California high is a real high school. That's because the girl who plays Leia, Amanda, transferred to our school from there. I thought it would be kinda cool if I could work that in here because it works so well.
XXX
"It looks like the Drum Line did this." Chris said as he waded through the wreckage. He and Ben had been heading back to Chris' farm with A-10 and Tim2 when they came across a wrecked sand scaffold. The Mellophones who owned it had all been slaughtered.
"Look, there's drum sticks, trailer tracks…it's just that I've never heard of them hitting anything this big before."
"They didn't." Ben said. "But we are meant to think they did. These tracks are side by side. Drummers always march single file to hide their numbers."
"These are the same Mellophones that sold us Tim2 and A-10." Chris said, interrupting Ben.
"And these blast points…too accurate for Drummers." Ben continued, seeming to ignore Chris' comment. "Only alto saxophone troopers are so precise,"
"But why would Woodwind troops want to slaughter Mellophones?"
Ben didn't answer. He simply let his gaze slide over to A-10 and Tim2. Chris slowly began to realize what Ben's meaning was.
"If they traced the students here, they may have learned who they sold them to and that would lead them back…home." Chris concluded, panic rising in his chest as he raced back to his speeder.
"Wait Chris! It's too dangerous!" Ben yelled. But Chris didn't hear him. He was already gone.
Chris pushed the speeder to the max, fervently praying that he wasn't already too late.
When he finally reached the farm and jumped out of his speeder, Chris was dismayed to find the hovel in ruins. Smoke billowed from the entrance as he raced to it.
"Uncle Will!" Chris cried out desperately. "Aunt Courtney! Uncle Will!!"
When he didn't get an answer Chris came closer. Maybe they had escaped.
But then he saw it. Two smoldering figures lying outside of the entrance, partly concealed by the smoke. No! It couldn't be! It just couldn't be!
Chris sank to his knees and turned his head away. Tears leaked down his face. He couldn't bear to see the charred remains of the only family he had every known.
XXX
Amanda sat, half asleep, in her cell aboard the flute station. She was starting to loose track of the hours. How long had she been here? Had Jason Kenobi received her message?
Suddenly the door of the cell was flung open. Darth Fred entered, flanked by two sax troopers.
"And now, your highness, we will discuss the location of your hidden Brass storage room."
Then one of the troopers stepped forward. What he held in his hands terrified Amanda beyond all reason. It was one of the Empire's most infamous tortures. It was a tape player. And Amanda knew what it contained. A recording of a freshman concert band. She would be forced to listen to the awful sounds until she either divulged the information that Fred wanted or she went insane.
Amanda slid away from the sax trooper in fear as he hit the play button.
XXX
When Chris arrived back at the wrecked sand scaffold he found Tim2 and A-10 burning the bodies of the dead Mellophones. Chris got out of his speeder and walked over to Ben, his head bowed in grief.
"There's nothing you could have done, Chris, had you been there. You'd have been killed too. And the students would now be in the hands of the Empire." Ben said, trying to console Chris.
"I want to come with you to California." Chris said, looking up suddenly. "There's nothing for me here now. I want to learn the ways of the Drill and become a Trombone like my father."
Ben's face hardened a bit at this. He put his hand on Chris' shoulder and led him back to the speeder. Tim2 and A-10 soon followed.
The four piled into the speeder and quickly made off for their destination. It took the better part of that day, but when the sun was low in the sky they'd finally reached the outskirts of the school.
"Littleton High School." Ben said as they gazed on it from a distance. "You will never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy. We must be cautious."
And indeed, caution was most crucial. For the first people that they came across when they pulled up to the main entrance were a group of sax troopers.
"How long have you had these students?" the leader asked Chris, referring to Tim2 and A-10.
"About three or four seasons." Chris lied.
"They aren't for sale if you want them." Ben added.
"Let me see your identification." the trooper demanded of Chris.
"You don't need to see his identification." Ben said, waving his hand a bit.
The trooper stared at him for a moment, confused.
"We don't need to see his identification." he said, almost as if he'd just thought of it himself.
"These aren't the students you're looking for." Ben said.
"These aren't the students we're looking for." the trooper repeated.
"He can go about his business." Ben said.
"You can go about your business." the trooper repeated helplessly.
"Move along." Ben said with a small smile.
"Move along. Move along." the trooper said, waving them through.
Chris piloted the speeder away from the troopers and into a parking lot.
"I don't understand how we got by those troops. I thought we were dead." Chris said as he climbed out of the speeder.
"The Drill can have a strong influence on the weak-minded." Ben answered mysteriously.
"Do you really think we're going to find a pilot here that'll take us to California High?" Chris asked dubiously as he eyed the entrance to the cafeteria.
"Well most of the best caser pilots can be found here. Only watch your step. This place can be a little rough." Ben said as he pulled his hood up.
But when they entered the cafeteria, Chris saw that "a little rough" was an understatement. The air was thick with the scent of vomit and alcohol. Drinking age laws had long since disappeared. In this new world you were lucky if you lived to be twenty, let alone the legal age of twenty-one. Fights were going on at every other table over games of poker.
But suddenly, the bartender spoke to Chris.
"Hey! We don't serve their kind here!"
"What?"
"Your students. They'll have to wait outside. We don't want them here." he explained.
"Just wait out by the speeder. We don't want any trouble." Chris said to A-10.
"I heartily agree with you, sir." A-10 said as he turned and led Tim2 out of the cafeteria.
Chris wandered away from Ben, taking in all the sights of the bar. But Ben soon found him again. When he did find Chris he was accompanied by a tall, pale boy with shaggy blonde hair.
"Bruchacca here is first mate on a case that might suit us." Ben explained to Chris as Bruchacca led them to a table in the far corner.
A lone figure sat at the table. His skin was light brown and his hair was jet black. He was fairly tall and his piercing brown eyes seemed to stare into your very soul.
"Keoni Solo." he said by way of introduction. "I'm captain of the Millennium Trumpet. Bruce tells me you're looking for passage to the California System."
"Yes indeed. If it's a fast case." Ben said.
"Fast case? You've never heard of the Millennium Trumpet?" Keoni asked incredulously.
"Should I have?"
"It's the case that made the Pueblo Run in less than twelve clicks. She's fast enough for you, old man. What's the cargo?"
"Only passengers. Myself, the boy, two students…and no questions asked." Ben said forcefully.
Keoni smirked at this.
"What is it? Some kind of local trouble?"
"Lets just say we'd like to avoid any Woodwind entanglements."
"Well, that's the real trick isn't it. And it's gonna cost you something extra. Ten thousand, all in advance."
"Ten thousand?!" Chris asked, outraged. "We could almost buy our own case for that!"
"But who's gonna fly it, kid? You?" Keoni asked skeptically.
"You bet I could! I'm not such a bad pilot myself. We don't have to sit here and listen to-" Chris started to say. But Ben silenced him and turned back to Keoni.
"We can pay you two thousand now. Plus fifteen when we reach California."
"Seventeen, huh? All right, you guys have got yourselves a case. We'll leave as soon as you're ready. Docking bay 94."
"94." Ben repeated as he led Chris away.
"Seventeen thousand! Oh, those guys must really be desperate. This could really save my neck. Get back to the case. Get her ready." Keoni said to Bruchacca.
But once Bruce had left, Keoni was cornered by his worst nightmare.
"Going somewhere, Keoni?" Shofner asked, lifting his trumpet and pointing it at Keoni's chest.
"Yes, Shofner. As a matter of fact I was just going to see your boss. Tell Kim that I've got her money." Keoni said, slowly backing away from Shofner.
"It's too late for that, Solo. Kim's put a price on your head so large that every pit crew in the world will be looking for you. I'm lucky I found you first."
"Yeah, but this time I've got the money." Keoni protested as he sat at a table facing Shofner.
"If you give it to me, I might forget I found you."
"I don't have it with me. Tell Kim-"
"Kim's through with you! She has no time for smugglers that drop their cargo at the first sign of Woodwind cloud cases!"
"Even I get boarded sometimes. Do you think I had a choice?!" Keoni asked, reaching for his trumpet in the holster at his side. The movement was hidden under the table.
"You can tell that to Kim. She might only take your case."
"Over my dead body." Keoni said fiercely.
"That's the idea, Keoni. I've been looking forward to this for a long time." Shofner said, lifting his trumpet for the kill.
"Yes, I'll bet you have." Keoni said.
But before Shofner had a chance to move, a shot rang out and Shofner fell forward onto the table, dead.
Keoni sat there for a moment, trumpet in hand, staring at the smoking corpse. Then he got up and tossed a coin to the bartender.
"Sorry about the mess."