A Father's Blade: Chapter Two

Jagged Fel sits slumped slightly in the dingy cantina on Ambria. The Huck's Hideout had definitely seen better days. By Jag's estimation, it was probably an upscale cantina a decade prior to the Clone Wars and since the end of that conflict it has slowly devolved into just another dingy dump on a dustbowl of a planet.

As far as Jag can tell, the Huck's Hideout has only two things which keep it in operation. First they don't water down the drinks, and secondly the air conditioner appears to be in perfect working condition. And on a desert planet, such as Ambria, those are inordinately important conditions.

He allows his eyes to flicker across the six other occupants of the bar once again. The elderly couple enjoying a late lunch in a corner booth. A Wookie, human and an Arconian playing a hand of sabacc in the center of the floor, and a Bothan at the bar, nursing a drink as slowly as Jag himself nurses his.

Jag takes a swallow of the gizer ale, allowing the liquid to settle on his tongue for a moment before swallowing. As he does this, he considers the sequence of events which have led him here. His exile from the Ascendancy, the time he spent trapped, marooned, on Tenupe. The years since his rescue, running around the Known Regions as a bounty hunter. He pushes those dark memories away, not wanting to dwell on what occurred on that forest world. Not wanting to think about the Jedi.

And most definitely he did not want to think about a certain short, brown-haired, brown-eyed female Jedi.

He takes another swallow of the ale; letting thoughts of the Jedi flow away as the liquid flows down his throat.

He runs his hand through his hair; still slightly unnerved by the extra length he's allowed it to grow out since he joined the Fringe. Just another of the changes which he's accepted. At that thought, he mentally checks his posture to ensure he still has the slight slouch of an out-of-luck spacer, rather than the ramrod straight military bearing which he would prefer to be displaying.

The door opens with a soft shushing sound, and a warm dry breeze flows over and around him, blowing his hair, causing it to tickle his ears.

He surreptitiously looks to the doorway, waiting for whoever opened the door to walk around the corner into the hallway which leads into the cantina. As he watches, he realizes that that doorway is another good thing going for this bar. The draft of wind when the door is opened alerts the patrons, while the brightly light hallway, with its right-angle corner between the exterior door and the darkened cantina proper provides a spotlight for everyone that comes into the bar.

A few moments after the wind settles down, the man who opened the door comes into view, he stands in the bright light of the entryway for just a moment, but that moment is long enough for Jag to clearly see that the man is wearing a light blue jumpsuit, with the BioTech Industries' dark blue and red logo stitched on the right breast.

Jag turns on the datapad which he has laying on the table, and glances down at the flat image which pops up on it. He compares the image with the man who was already sliding up to the bar ordering something. He grins slightly, as he makes a match, and stands up. His hand slips down to the blaster on his hip. Silently, he unsnaps the latch and pulls out his BlastTech DN-24.

As the bartender places a drink in front of the man, Jag leans up against the bar next to him, pressing his blaster into the man's side.

"No sudden moves."

Jag watches as the man tenses his body. The man’s voice is measured and calm. As if someone poking a blaster in his side was an everyday occurrence. "What do you want?"

"You're going to finish your drink, and then we're going to take a nice little walk. If you listen, then I won't have to hurt you."

The man slowly lifts his glass to his lips, taking a long draught of the ale. "You still haven't told me what you want."

"Me? Nothing. I'm just a simple man doing a simple job. My employer on the other hand, wants to have a talk with you."

The man places his glass down on the bar. "Fine. Let's go now."

Jag leads the man forward, and out of the bar. A small warning goes off in the back of his head. There's something about this whole situation that he doesn't like. He hasn't had a bounty this easy in years. Before he steps under the harsh lights of the entryway, he glances back over those still in the bar, noting that they all seem to still be engrossed in what they were doing.

He looks up, as the man arrives at the bend, and takes a step forward. He hesitates, listening to the same instincts which served him well as a starfighter pilot. Then he takes a step backwards as the doorway explodes, tossing him back into the cantina. He lands on his rump, sliding up against an empty table. He gives his head a quick shake to clear the ringing from his ears, and looks towards the doorway to find a Yuuzhan Vong warrior standing there, a snarl twisting his mutilated and tattooed features.

Jag growls a curse as he raises his blaster.

The war against the Yuuzhan Vong taught the scientists and engineers of the Known Regions a lot. They developed a host of new technologies to defeat and befuddle the aggressive species. Yet the largest of the developments against Yuuzhan Vong biots has occurred in the decade or so since the end of the war. Including development of the Blastech DN series – a series of blasters designed with Vondum Crab armor in mind.

The warrior unfurls his amphistaff and Jag pulls the trigger. The chuff sound of the blaster echoes loudly in the enclosed room and the blast of energy creates a large hole in the chest of the warrior.

Rolling to his feet, he tosses three small balls towards the entryway. On their third bounce, they begin to his as they emit jets of a dark grey smoke. As the gas spills out of the entrance and into the cantina itself, Jag looks around, trying to find another way out. Then he spies the entrance to the kitchen. He jumps over the bar, and brushes past the bartender and into the kitchen.

Standing in the doorway, he glances back towards the entrance and notices a large, ginger-haired Wookiee stumbling through the fog, shaking his head to clear it from the effects of the gas. Jag frowns for a second, and then pushes on through the kitchen, bursting out the back door. He glances around, getting his bearings, and then heads to the spaceport as fast as he can.

Half an hour later, he is settling into the cockpit of his ship, his brows creased in concentration as he tries to figure out just what that warrior was doing protecting the scientist he was sent to snatch. He sighs deeply, as he realizes that the issues at hand here are beyond him.

He pulls up his contact list, and finds a name of a guy that he hasn't spoken to in over a decade. Not since the war ended. He presses the icon to activate the call, and a few minutes later Kyp Durron's face appears on the holocom suite.

Jag almost laughs at the confusion on the Jedi Master's face as the older man says, "Fel? Is that you?"

"Yes, I have a tip for you Jedi."

"What is it?"

"BioTech Industries on Ambria. Something fishy is going on there."

"Anything more concrete than that?"

Jag shakes his head. "Just that the Vong and the Wookies are involved somehow. It's above my resources to find out more info, plus I have other things I need to do. But you know me, Kyp. I wouldn't send this to you if I wasn't certain it wasn't important."

Kyp nods his head, a smirk tugging at his lips. "I'll see what we lowly Jedi can do. Anything else?"

"Yeah, don't tell Jaina you talked to me."

"Copy that, Jag. It wa-"

Jag terminates the communication. He doesn’t really want to talk to the Jedi. He doesn’t want to remember. He sighs, and preps his ship for take-off.

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Tahiri stands at the edge of the sparring mat; in her hands is the control box for the four remotes circling around her apprentice as she watches the exercise. Noelani Darklighter is dressed in a form-fitting training suit, her bright blonde hair pulled back into a tight pony tail, its curls swishing with her every movement. A navy blue cloth is tied tightly around the girl’s eyes, ensuring that she can’t see anything.

In Noelani’s hands is Tahiri’s lightsaber. Its constant hum a curious offset to the puffs and buzz of the remotes.

There is a shift in the tone of the saber as Noelani moves the blade around to deflect the dart from one of the remotes. As she blocks, two of the other remotes dive in to attack Noelani’s undefended side. She dances forward, but the wounds she suffered at the hands of the Yuuzhan Vong slow her down just enough for the remotes to catch her.

Her yelp of pain is clear, and echoes slightly in the training room. As Tahiri watches, Noelani tries to put pressure on the leg which had just been shot by the dart, and it crumples due to numbness, spilling Noelani to the floor. The young girl is just able to get the saber up and around in time to keep from slicing herself in half and to block another bolt that was heading for her stomach.

She turns off the saber, and rolls forward, trying to give herself a chance to catch her breath, and get feeling in her leg again. She stops after a couple rolls, and bounces to her feet. She ignites the saber again and bats away another bolt coming in for her thigh.

Then another yelp of pain sounds out in the room, and Tahiri smirks slightly as she notices that Noelani had been shot in the rump by a remote that had gotten behind her. The girl stumbles forward, trying her best to remain standing upright, weariness from her still healing wounds and the darts beginning to take their toll.

Then Tahiri’s comlink chimes and she pulls it out, noting the simple text message displayed on its face. She turns her attention back to the training session, and deactivates the remotes. With a few last hisses, they slowly return to their spots alongside the wall. Noelani watches as they float away, and then turns back towards Tahiri.

"Why is the session over, Master? Did I do something wrong?"

Tahiri smiles at the girl, wondering when she’ll realize just how much talent she has, and at the same time dreading the day that happens. "Nothing is wrong; we’ve just been summoned to the Council Chambers."

Noelani holds out Tahiri’s saber towards her. "Oh. Okay."

Tahiri smiles as she takes the weapon and attaches it to her belt. She flips her head towards the doorway and says, "Come on, we can’t keep the Council waiting forever, now can we?"