Part 1 – The Journey

Chapter 1

Tap tap… tap

The small pebble ricocheted off the floor, then the wall, then flicked up to clack loudly against the ceiling, before it slammed back into the palm of the shadowy figure on the bed. The figure brought it up to his eye, studying the stone's smooth surface for a minute. Each hit had worn away at the surface, leaving imperceivably small scratches on the glassy surface. He flicked it between two fingers and pegged it at the wall again.

Tap tap… tap.

The rhythmic sound repeated as he watched it take the repetitive path around the room's surfaces. It clashed high in the ceiling and ricocheted into his palm again.

The cell he was in was rather small and utilitarian. The metallic walls were both rusting and mouldy, green illumination strips along the walls flickering indistinctly. There was a tiny sink in the corner, with plumbing pipes running up across the ceiling. He threw the stone again, watching it with his eyes. Besides that, he didn't appear to move.

Tap Tap … Tap Tap… Tap CLANG!

This time the rock took a different path. It bounced off the wall, ricocheting around the small metal sink before hitting the lip of the basin and flying into the ceiling again. It hit the single waterpipe, cracking the rusty metal slightly. The stone slammed back into the man's hand, and he dropped the rock onto the floor. A trickle of water dribbled down, slapping loudly against the concrete floor. The shadowy figure lay back on the cold, uncomfortable rubber mattress, waiting calmly. A loud creaking groan echoed around the room; the rusty pipe finally giving way to the pressure he had cause by denting it over and over again. Suddenly, a torrent of freezing water splashed down on his face. He brought his hand up and shielded his eyes, peering up at the pipe. A section had broken clean off, about three inches in length, and the gushing water had begun to slowly fill the small, square room.

A calm voice filtered through the single window grate above him from the cell next door, "Do I want to know what that was?"

"A plan.", he answered simply. They didn't need to know any more than that. Not yet.

The voice groaned, fully of frustration and badly disguised mirth. "Didn't your last plan get us stuck in these cells, Caloc?"

"Perhaps.", he sat up and glared at the imposing bars the voice came from. "You put me in charge of making the plan on my first 'official' mission since my arm was rather crudely and painfully surgified by Tyrannus and you expect it to work perfectly?"

"Surgified isn't a word.", Stass' voice chuckled good-naturedly through the gate, "I thought that you were supposed to be studying the techniques for a successful infiltration while you were locked away in quarantine."

"I did study the infiltration techniques! Almost everything Aayla gave me.", he barked back at her, "But that was in the Library. I have not exactly practiced though. The field is something that will take a while to get used to again. I am just a little rusty outside the Temple. Don't judge me on one failed incursion."

"Prisoner 556.", a loudspeaker above the door barked loudly, "Whatever you are doing, I shall reprimand you personally!"

Caloc breathed out a long sigh. To think that today had been the best day he had in about least a year before this happened. Well, except for possibly Devaron, but even that hadn't finished great. This mission had started simply enough: an infiltration into the Pyke Syndicate's stronghold on Hala. Then, his Master had made the fatal mistake of asking him to make the plan.

"Hey, Stass?", he asked, looking up at the window again.

"Yes, my young and foolish padawan?", her voice answered, annoyance lacing the tones like a dragonsnake's venom, "What do you want?"

He rolled his eyes. "Do you know what kind of boots the guards were wearing by any chance?"

He could hear a loud rustling in the next room, most likely his Master sitting up in the bed. "What? Why are you asking me that?"

The guards were not Pyke. Most of the Oba Diah locals would only set foot off their homeworld to deliver spice shipments to their customers. Instead, local enforcers were often hired on the Syndicate's less important worlds. These men wore the standard pyke uniform, complete with the red helmets and electrospears. The water was lapping at the bottom of the bed now. The pipe had stopped the almost continuous spray of water around the room, and he looked over at the door. Four of the guards stood outside the humming plasma field that covered the entrance, fiddling with the lock's controls.

He reached up and carefully peeled the skin-tight black glove from his shoulder, grunting with the effort as he slipped it down his arm and off his hand. The glove was vacuumed sealed around the limb, almost like a second skin. He had not worn the glove for more than two days in a row before, trying to let the skin breathe every now and then. This was the fourth day he had been forced to endure the grip of the plastiguard. The mission had not allowed time for him to take it off yet. The hair on the nape of his neck stood up as he freed the limb, and he stared morosely at the blue, cracked skin; sparks of electricity bouncing around just below the thin surface. "I just wanted to know, because the guards are about to open the door."

A loud thump sounded from the other side of the wall. "And you decided to ask me about their boots?"

"Call it mild curiosity!", he yelled out, exasperated at the nearly continuous questions. He realised that normally, he would be the one asking these questions, but decided not to comment on it.

"I don't know what they were wearing!", she yelled back, "I think they were boots with metal reinforcements. The kind used for painfully kicking their prisoners when they misbehave. Will you please tell me why you want to know?"

"You'll see." He answered. The doors slid open as the guards finally cracked the door code. "I think that my plan is about to work."

"I hope it works better than the last one. I can't take another shock-bolt to the head.", she muttered quietly.

Caloc kicked the wall, "I heard that."

"You were supposed to.", she barked back.

The guards rushed in, sloshing through the knee-deep water until they surrounded his bed, the grimy A300 blasters cocked, barrels pointed at him. The loudspeaker above the door squawked on again, "Prisoner 556, get up. We are going to take you to the torture chamber for questioning."

"You have an entire chamber just for torture?", Caloc let his left arm drift down towards the water's surface, "I'm impressed. I would go and see this chamber, but I have a pressing engagement that I am already late for. I need to be on my way."

His fingers dipped below the surface, and immediately the water began to bubble, electricity leaping from his skin and charging the liquid in the room. Within milliseconds, the guards were contorting violently, the energy making the water bubble around them. Arcs of energy climbed their skeletons, jumping across their limbs and locking them in place. The padawan lifted his hand from the water, shaking the few drops from it, and the guards sploshed down, floating unconscious on the steaming surface. Standing up from the bed, he sloshed his way through the murky water to the open door. He climbed out into the corridor, unbuckling his belt as he did.

When they had been captured, the warden droid had removed all the pouches and potential weapons from him and his Master. But they had been left with their robes, including the thick, utilitarian belts. Reaching into the thick leather, he ran his finger along the thread until he came to a break in the thread around the buckle. A tiny, almost invisible pocket. Fiddling with the pocket, he pulled a thin, curved pieced of metal from the stitches. Cautiously, he crept over to the next cell and knelt in front of the lock, gently maneuvered the metal into the lock's port, twisting it gently until a loud clack came from the contraption, followed by a brief shower of bright orange sparks that left him slightly dazed. The door slid open, and he peered in. His Master sat on the bed, a single eyebrow raised. She held a book in her hand. Not a holobook like in the Jedi Temple, but one with paper pages and a bound spine. The guards probably thought she might be able to use the holographic tablet to escape somehow.

Stass gestured to the page the book was open at, annoyed. "I was just up to the good part."

"How did you get a book in here?", Caloc raised an accusing eyebrow at her, "I asked six times for a simple glass of water and they wouldn't bring one."

"Well, I simply asked, my young padawan. People will do anything if you are just a bit more polite…"

A guard rounded the corner suddenly, interrupting them. Spotting the escaped prisoners, he hefted his electrostaff and charged at them. Rolling his eyes, Caloc stepped towards the man, closing the distance before the man could react. The guard clumsily swung the spear forward in an awkward overhead stoke, and the padawan blocked the staff with his forearm. He swept his legs up, over the spear and then over the man's shoulder. The tip of his boot, reinforced with a thick piece of flexible metal, connected with the guard's chin and he collapsed to the floor, dazed. Straightening up, Caloc brushed the spice dust from his robes. Stass had at some point exited the cell and was now rifling through the unconscious guard's satchel.

Caloc raised an eyebrow, a skill he had gained from her, "With all due respect, Master, I doubt this guard is going to be carrying our lightsabres."

"I'm looking for a keycard.", Stass hissed back. "Hopefully that can get us through the doors."

"Why do we need a keycard if we can just open the doors with the Force?", Caloc asked, his eyebrow raising in question as he folded his arms.

Stass sat up, her face going completely blank. "I hadn't thought of that."

A loud, shrieking alarm began to blare, red lights illuminating the corridor with a blood-like glow. The loudspeaker hissed on with a squeal of feedback, "Prisoner 552 and 556, get back in your cell. You are completely outnumbered and surrounded."

"Wait.", Caloc looked up at the camera. He reached up and tapped the glass "If my Master and I were captured at the same time, why are there four prisoner numbers between us? That makes no sense."

The voice ignored him, "I have security droids, Jedi. They shall blast you to pieces."

Both Jedi glanced up the deserted hallway. Leaning over, Caloc stage-whispered, "I think he's bluffing."

"I have six squads on their way now. You'll never escape!", the voice squawked, an indignant screech breaking in his tone.

Stass frowned at her padawan. "I'll admit that your plan to get out of your cell was decent. But I think that you forgot the part about getting back to our ship."

"Trust me, I didn't.", Caloc grinned. He got his foot under the guard's electrospear and flicked it up to his hand. He tossed the spear to her "Get to the Platform 6B. I'll find our lightsabers."

"Isn't our ship on Platform 6C?", Stass asked.

"Yeah, it is.", Caloc let out a quiet groan, "But if you taught me anything, it's to do the thing that no one expects. Since they expect us to go to Platform 6C, we shall not."

"Whatever you're up to, you will probably need this.", Stass hefted the electropole, ready to throw it to him.

Caloc shook his head. The property room was at the end of the hall and he nodded to it. Don't worry. Once I get in there, I'll have everything I need."

The prison corridor was built underneath the main Pyke Facility. Therefore, there were only two ways out. The elevators, or the sewer. Stass had taken the elevator, so with a gentle nudge from the Force, the sewer cover opened, and Caloc leapt down, landing in knee-deep sludge. Sludge was literally the only way to describe the muck beneath. It was a thick green, with veins of brown and swampish grey in it. It would stain his boots for a long time. He would probably have to throw them out and get new ones.

Spotting a pipe leading along the ceiling, he grabbed it and swung along the greasy surface until he reached a tall, vertical shaft that led to the surface level. Water dripped down the side, fed by hundred of other pipes that exited the shaft's walls at various stages. This shaft was the centre of the entire Pyke facility's Sewer System. Light filtered through the grate at the top, illuminating the young padawan's face. The moon above shone brightly down on him. Hala was a system with a single sun and a single moon. The moon was dead, with no atmosphere and no life. He rubbed his cheek slightly as he felt a filthy droplet dribble down his cheek. The edges of his long scar stung slightly as the acrid water touched them.

Reaching into one of the pouches on his belt, he grabbed his cable launcher. Taking careful aim, he slammed his thumb down on the device, and a cable shot towards one of the open pipes above. The hardened tip of the cable crashed into the wall above, puncturing the stone until it found a secure grip. Them, unseen by anyone, a series of four tiny spokes popped out, digging into the stone. Pulling on it to make sure it was securely stuck, the robed padawan started to climb. He rapidly zipped up the rope, heaving himself into the pipe opening in a single, easy motion. He doggedly sloshed through green/grey water that reached the tops of his boots, stopping only when he found a grate above him.

Pulling out his lockpick again, he fiddled with the lock on the grate. It slid open slowly, and he leapt through it, startling the guard at the end of the hall. Immediately, the guard, a huge Besalisk who donned the same red uniform as his human companions, threw an awkward sideways punch. Crossing his arms, Caloc blocked it. The force of the blow sent his boots sliding across the floor. The padawan remained upright though, and launched a punch of his own into the horned ridge on top of the four-armed man's head. Unknown by most, that was a Besalisk's most vulnerable spot. The cartilage cracked under the padawan's fist, and the guard collapsed on the floor, dazed. Again, Caloc pulled the makeshift lockpick from his belt and fiddled with the elevator's control panel. Sparks flew from it and the doors slowly ground open.

A nearby speaker squealed at him, "I found you, you slippery Jedi. Get away from that elevator. You can't win!"

"Who is that?", Caloc muttered to no one in particular. He hadn't heard that specific voice before. Granted, sneaking into the facility didn't give many opportunities to talk to any of the Pyke officials, so it wasn't that surprising that the voice's owner was a mystery. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened. Caloc walked in and tapped one of the buttons, trying to aim for the main office at the top of the massive cylindrical tower.

Y'know, he thought to himself, I probably should've memorised the blueprint before the incursion.

Stass spun the electropole around her head and jabbed it into the Pyke captain's throat. The man convulsed erratically before falling to the ground. The floor was littered with the unconscious bodies of Pyke soldiers. It had been the Tholothian's misfortune to wander into the cafeteria just as dinner was being served, and the resulting fight had led all the way to Platform 6B. Thankfully, most of the soldiers were unarmed, either coming off duty or about to grab their equipment as they started their shift.

She glanced cautiously around the doorway before stepping out into the wind. Landing Platform 6B had boxes and crates strewn around the single old freighter that sat patiently on it, waiting for its crew. There were no guards on the platform, just a tall, lanky RT5-series loading droid. A loud shout came from above her and a human shaped lump slammed into the platform. She let out a disappointed wince. That could only be one person.

"Did you find our weapons?", she asked the lump.

"Yes.", Caloc let out a weak groan, reaching for his ribs. "But the overseer wasn't too happy to hear my complaints about his prison security. He threw me out. You really need to teach me how to catch myself while I fall."

"You could stop leaping out of buildings.", she pointed out.

"I was thrown.", Caloc corrected with a pointed finger as he pushed himself onto to his feet, just as a blaster bolt slammed into the floor. Stass tackled him, rolling behind a crate. He glanced over at her, "Well that was unexpected. Who is shooting at us?"

She peered over the crate, and another shot slammed into the lid. "I think there's a sniper on the next platform."

"Any idea who?"

Stass shot him a withering look. "I don't have super vision, Caloc."

"Sorry.", he grabbed her lightsaber from his belt and threw it to her. "Though I love how you never said you wouldn't know him."

She took a moment to just hold the familiar grip of her blade. It was amazing how naked she had felt without it. Flicking the ignition switch, she watched the metre-long emerald blade shimmer into existence, before she leapt into the open. Deflecting the sniper bolts, she noticed a distinct lack of her padawan's sapphire blade. "Where is your lightsaber?"

"Hm?", he stared at her, "Oh, I dropped it while I was falling. It's over by the freighter's ramp."

"Are you going to get it?", Stass asked.

"Actually.", Caloc rubbed his chin with his fingers, "I was just wondering if there was some kind of penalty if a Jedi lost his ship."

Stass almost missed a bolt flying by her. "You seem to be asking a lot of questions that are rather… unusual today."

"What if we replace the ship that we lost?", he asked, seeming to ignore her comment. He was staring pointedly at the freighter on the platform behind them.

Stass spun around and looked at the ship. It looked like a wreck to her, a hodgepodge of metal and materials shoved together. "You want to escape in that derelict thing?"

"It's an amazing ship!", he gestured at it. "That is a PT-6073 freighter. Originally, they were built for mining operations on Utapau, but are…"

"We don't have time for a history lesson, Caloc.", Stass yelled, deflecting another sniper bolt, "Can you fly the thing or not?"

"Of course, I can, Master.", he huffed, clipping his weapon to his belt and walking over to the ramp. A few seconds later, and a grey metallic astromech was kicked out onto the platform. "I've been wanting to fly one for years. It is my favorite design."

"Great! Let's go.", she leapt over the boxes and hurried towards the ramp.

Author's Note:

We are back!

Finally got this bad boy finished and he is a good one. Plenty of drama and adventure to be had. Unfortunately, one of the storylines had to be removed, but I will try to adapt that and put it up separately at some point.

Anyway, I really hope that you enjoy. Any questions or compliment (or even criticism), don't hesitate to message me,

sincerely,

Phillip