Private Stepping on Legos (Moons)

[Sycamore Warrey]

Location: Lego System, The Slice, Outer Rim Territories, Grid Square: T-7
The 60...70...80...90th? 100th Moon To Be Searched
Time: Astronomical Twilight
With: Aoki-Barran Mira ​

The Lego System. Now there was a system that Sycamore had never heard of before, and through no fault of his own. A distant planet on all accounts, even on the fringes of Imperial Space, with the notable peculiarity of every hyperspace route snaking around the system itself, as if whatever galactic cartographers of ages past simply knew better than to venture closer to the mysterious red planet and its thousand moons than they ought to.

Either that, Sycamore mused, or the mere thought of undertaking the gargantuan task of mapping a thousand moons proved to be too bothersome to undertake. He, for one, would not blame them.

As if simply tracking the smuggled Sith contraband to this distant system hadn’t been problematic enough, the task only magnified in both scale and frustration upon Sycamore and his compatriot’s arrival only to discover that their search would not find itself at long last in conclusion on a single planet. Ohhh no. Their search would include the moons as well. All thousand of them.


The Lego System. Now there was a system that Sycamore had never heard of before, and through no fault of his own. A distant planet on all accounts, even on the fringes of Imperial Space, with the notable peculiarity of every hyperspace route snaking around the system itself, as if whatever galactic cartographers of ages past simply knew better than to venture closer to the mysterious red planet and its thousand moons than they ought to.

Either that, Sycamore mused, or the mere thought of undertaking the gargantuan task of mapping a thousand moons proved to be too bothersome to undertake. He, for one, would not blame them.

As if simply tracking the smuggled Sith contraband to this distant system hadn’t been problematic enough, the task only magnified in both scale and frustration upon Sycamore and his compatriot’s arrival only to discover that their search would not find itself at long last in conclusion on a single planet. Ohhh no. Their search would include the moons as well. All thousand of them.

At this distance, eyes skyward, feet on the ground of what must have been the sixtieth…no, it must have been at least seventy. If not seventy fifth moon. Yes, absolutely. It was most definitely the eightieth moon to be searched through legwork. That wasn’t to say only ninety moons had been searched, ohhh no. The hundred that had been searched were but the ones deemed plausible. Given a habitable climate, large enough to warrant the possibility of something hiding upon them, as well as whatever electronic signatures that could be found through scans and sweeps.

…Ahhh, where was he? That was right. Not losing count. Far from it. For Sycamore was contemplating the sight of that plethora of moons caught in the light of their sun was almost enough to take the breath away. Almost enough to make one dismiss all those nagging doubts that buzzed around the mind in the face of the ethereal adversary that was imminent frustration. Almost. But not quite.

This find, however, held promise. A hatch, hidden within one of the forests of the moon. The hatch was buried up to the door itself yet with the telltale signs of recent use. Not from what was there, but wasn’t there. No branches. No twings. Not even dirt covered the door itself. Like a metallic sore thumb sticking out that scrambled of suspicion. After all, whoever went to the effort of concocting such a hiding place must have had something worth hiding. The only trouble was, any obvious means to open the hatch were…missing. No handle. No control panel. Not even a knocker on the outside to do the well mannered thing and knock before entering.

Sycamore turned to Aoki, his Imperial compatriot, and beamed a smile at her that absolutely radiated with excitement, if not downright glee at the discovery. All those days of dead ends, half leads and disappointment may be behind them. All that separated them from their potential quarry was but a metal door. “What are you thinking? Carve the thing open and see what pops out?”

Sycamore asked, rhetorically, of course. As a hand had already went to the trouble of freeing the lightsaber from his belt, and ignited the brilliant silver blade in a flash.

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

Through the several days searching moon after moon, Aoki would have proven to be a less than entertaining companion. Her more reserved and cool headed nature, usually not showing much strong emotion, made her a plain and boring person to be around. While Sycamore would have been more cheerful, and chatty between the two, Aoki would silently nod while maintaining that calm aura.

Between searches, she trained and focused on the bandages covering the scars on her face. Waking up and stepping in front of the mirror, she would spend more time with the bandages than her ever proper hair. Any attempts at getting to know Aoki he would strike would only have minimal responses. Sycamore had no idea why she maintained her Atrisian roots, or what caused the scars she tried so hard to hide.

Yet another search in their mission hunting Sith artifacts. It landed them on a wooded moon, in front of a hatch that lead into the ground. It was recently used, and it was a promising lead. The inability to easily unlock it only added to suspicions. As Sycamore pulled his lightsaber out, however, Aoki silently strode closer to him and gently took his arm.

"Patience."

Despite the smidgen of serious sterness in her eyes, she was calm and gentle as ever.

"The lightsaber could grab the attention of anyone down there. We could lose our lead if that happens."

She looked back down to the hatchet and pondered, "Perhaps, we could use the Force?"

Sycamore Warrey
​

 

[Sycamore Warrey]

Less gregarious his companion may have been for the length of this venture, but that was taken as it was and nothing more. Not for an instant would Sycamore have wished for the Atrisian’s role as his partner to be replaced, nor the unsettling alternative of facing this assignment alone.

Confident in his abilities as Sycamore was, firmly holding to the belief that nothing within ten star systems from here could match him blade to blade, the reality of what was demanded of Inquisitors involved more than foes to be fought with a lightsaber in hand. Aoki’s reserved nature served as the perfect counterweight to the knight as a whole. It kept them in balance, as things ought to be.

Besides, if his Mirislan comrade chose not to speak beyond what she deemed necessary, Sycamore was more than happy to talk for the both of them. Chatting away about this and that, any topic that orbited about in his consciousness. Orbit, they did. Who could count the number of times Sycamore recounted his upbringing on Serreno, his time within the Imperial Youth, or his time at the Academy, or the tales and deeds of his father? Who was, as every story about him ultimately revolved toward, called upon to make the ultimate sacrifice a knight could face. By the end of a week Aoki must have sworn the man was more faulty holocom than Knight, with how often those tales were told, then retold, and told yet again.

“Hmm…” Sycamore pondered, still illuminated lightsaber in hand with eyes still fixated upon the steel of the door, weighing Aoki’s wisdom against the compelling urge to butcher the metal into slag.

In the end, Aoki’s wisdom won out. “You’re probably right.” The brilliant silver of the blade was extinguished, and Sycamore’s attention fully turned to his companion. To his companion, and the layer of bandages that covered what must have been their wounds. It wasn’t the first time they had drawn his notice, nor would it be the last.

At the very least he’d had the grace not to outright ask, but guesses could be ventured. And ventured, they were. Recent action on Ilum was a widely known Imperial fact now, and the need for bandages told a tale of relatively fresh wounds. Assumptions were made, but not spoken. For now. Sycamore knew all too well the sacrifice that Imperial Knights not only faced, but embraced as one of their core tenets. To risk themselves in the preservation of the Empire. Wounds sustained in that pursuit ought to be praised. At least in his view of things.

Yet, the words hadn’t been spoken. The innate instinct to not force such an issue kept Sycamore’s tongue held, for possibly the first time, on that issue. But on all other things, words were let fly. Such as now.

“Either that, or we knock and hope they believe we are mild mannered solicitors.” Sycamore smirked, as he always did at one of his own japes. If Aoki wouldn't react, well, he would do it for the both of them. “What did you have in mind?”

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

Aoki just looked at him with a face that said "Seriously?" She never lightened up, it seemed. She turned and walked closer to the hatch, bending down and inspecting it. Her mask, pulled to the side of her head, rattled a bit as she settled on her knees, "They must have another way of opening the latch, to get inside. Search for a hidden button."

Standing up, the young squire sighed as she glanced around the trees. She wished she had a datapad to scan the area for any technological signals. Alas, the more traditional type, she hardly ever brought much tech out on the field. And so, she walked to the nearest bush and pulled branches to look inside.

The search was on. Several times, Sycamore tried to tell another story. Again. Aoki always silenced him, telling him to focus. She was ever polite, but she was also to the point.

After approximately half an hour of searching, a control panel was unearthed by Sycamore beneath some rocks. It was easy to open the door then, and they jumped in.

The cold hallway spanned below. It was a basic design, smooth and crude. As their footsteps echoed through the tight corridors, Aoki winced. She pulled her mask over her face as they turned the corner... and found dead bodies.

Aoki immediately bent down to investigate. The shabby armor, physical matches to imperial records of smugglers, it all added up. These were their thieves. She was disturbed as she looked upon the wounds, however. Plasma strikes, long slashes and swift stabs. She also noticed that one body had a completely twisted neck.

"Whichever Sith they stole from," She concluded, "Wants their artifacts back."

She stood up, looking over to her chatty companion, "Be on your guard. We are not alone down here."

Sycamore Warrey
​

 

[Sycamore Warrey]

Aoki Mira’s stoic reservation failed to dissuade Sycamore’s free tongue that bordered on impetuousness. If anything it only inclined him to let any jest that came to mind fly with easy haste and a self amusement that never truly seemed to vanish from his lips.

That look she gave him was, of course, no exception. “A hidden button? Right. You search the trees, I’ll search the ground and stones. We will have it in no time.”

As it so happened, whenever the two came within hearing distance of hushed voices, Sycamore did feel the overwhelming urge to regale the Squire in some tale or another. Most namely how this search reminded him of the time he’d misplaced the ignition keys of a speeder back during his time at the Academy. Only for Aoki to gently remind him of the pressing need for subtlety, as well as their mission to be carried out without distraction.

Alas, it was a story that would never be told, it seemed. At least for the next hour or so, when such an overwhelming urge was met again, and words were let fly. But not now. No, for now, the search continued.

To Sycamore’s own wondrous surprise there was indeed a hidden control panel with, as it would so happen, a big shiny red button on it with a pair of lights. One red, shining brilliantly beneath where it was hidden under the rocks like a fire ruby, and one bulb that turned green when the button was pressed, extinguishing the ruby to replace it with an emerald light.

That, and the hiss of the seal of the hatch opening, paired with the creak of an ungreased hinge when the pair joined their efforts to lift the cover fully.

Sycamore followed Aoki down the ladder and into the hallway itself. Dim lighting greeted them, the darkness combated in the form of a beam of light emitting from Sycamore’s helmet, banishing the darkness directly where the knight looked, but nothing more. It hadn’t taken long for them to reach the bodies, and proved his companion's assessment correct.

This was no accident.

The scene, as grizzly as it was, did tell a story of its own. The way the bodies fell, face down towards the direction that the two Imperials had just arrived from. The evidence of scorch marks across the backs, the sight of burn marks from where blaster fire had been aimed further down the hallway in the opposing direction. Wild. Inaccurate.

It told the tale of these pirates, smugglers, whatever they were, fleeing. Likely fleeing toward what served as the back door to this complex, the hatch. A flight that did not avail them in the end, obviously. Whatever had caught up with them had come from the direction that the pair of knights would ultimately need to advance in to continue their pursuit of the Sith relics.

“The robbers being robbed by the one they stole from…what do they call that? Poetic justice?”

The pursuit was on as they ventured further down the hall, Sycamore now taking the lead with lightsaber in hand. Unignited, as it were. The element of surprise may still be on their side with the potential arrival of a Sith within the…what would one call this place? Smuggler’s Den? Hideout?

Passing through a doorway would lead the two into a room that could kindly be called an armory at best, but a munitions dump at worst. Bulky, metallic crates with half ajar lids revealed blasters of various sorts. Thermal detonators. A true mish-mash of stolen weapons as there was no true cohesion nor organizational sense to the assortment.
What the room lacked, thankfully, were any enemies. The sound of blasterfire, brilliant flashes of reds illuminating a further corridor held the likely reasoning why. A confrontation ahead.

“Come! Battle is already joined!” At that, Sycamore charged, lightsaber flashing to life as the man bolted through the threshold of the door, straight towards the sounds of blasterfire. It hadn’t taken but a moment to reach the struggle, a chaotic engagement of blasterfire whizzing this way and that, all centrally aimed toward the sight of a whizzing red blade that must have been the Sith.

This gave Sycamore the initial advantage, as opposed to making for the focal point of the fire, he brought his weapon to bear on the nearest of the smugglers, who only became aware of new arrivals to the fray at the sight of a silver lightsaber blade burning through his chest from the back.

As if this hadn’t caught the attention of enough of the survivors, Sycamore bellowed out a cry. “For the Empire!” Lightsaber was raised, and the pursuit towards the nearest combatant was under way.

 

[Aoki-Barran Mira]

Mira placed her fingers on her mask, where her temple was. How could her partner be so reckless! It was best to wait for the battle to end in one victor, and to pick off the tired survivor! She lowered her hand, remaining calm, and reached for Utaken-

Oh... Utaken was...

She shifted and pulled her lightsaber hilt out, rushing in and speedily stabbing the first bandit in the back with a lightsaber activation. She pulled the blade out, turning and blocking more blaster fire in her Shii-Cho Form. Deflecting blaster fire, she moved fluidly. It was a graceful dance, graceful yet swift. One after another, the bandits fell. She was cool and collected, despite her frustration at her teammate. Poised, refined, and perfectly calm. She was an expert with the blade, effortlessly cutting these foes down.

You made your choices, criminals. Rest in peace.

Only several bandits remained. While three ganged up on Sycamore, a flash of crimson glowed. With speed, Aoki turned and blocked with a rapid switch to Makashi. The Sith was completely masked and cloaked. Mira recognized Form Five off the bat in his posture and blade work.

"Let's make this quick," He sneered, "You're obviously the most skilled of the two."

Mira was not one for flattery, nor insults to her allies. She deactivated her lightsaber, lifting the hilt before her head. With zero external reaction to his words, she activated the blade again. This time, instead of a standard blade, the white plasma was shaped in a flat, one edged blade. Essentially, it looked just like a katana sword.

Without so much as a warning, she pressed an external attack. Once again, Shii-Cho was skillfully displayed as she worked to press him back.

Sycamore Warrey
​

 

[Sycamore Warrey]

“Three versus one, eh?” Sycamore sneered, the overwhelming urge to state the obvious once more taking command of the man's tongue. The three foes faced him down, blasters rising to steady aim upon him as their focus turned from the Sith themselves onto the emerging threat of two Imperial knights, the closest of them having been Sycamore.

A happy mistake, at that. The ebb and flow of battle had a mind of its own. One may sally forth from the south and somehow find themself turned about on the east, befuddled and uncertain, just as surely as they may find themselves lost amidst the carnage in the midst of battle while their blood was up, blind to all but the conflict.

Sycamore’s intent had been to make for the Sith, yet chance had seen it another way. A glance from the corner of the eye revealed the sight of the Sith engaging with Aoki Mira, that unique blade of hers alight and flashing about through the air at a speed that the knight admittedly couldn’t keep up with for the life of him. It made one almost feel pity for her foe.

Almost.

His own conflict was here, and now. Sycamore took a number of steps to the flank, placing the three in an arc across from him as opposed to the danger posed by the trip triangulating him in what would have effectively been a kill box. With the three to his front, the battle was already lost to them. Their fate in their own hands, hanging by the thread that was the miniscule pressure needed to pull the trigger on their weapons.

That thread snapped.

Sycamore turned his shoulder to them, exposing as little of the torso as one could while still keeping a blade raised at a downward angle in the same moment that the scream of blasterfire filled the air. Rapid, without interruption, perciese. Alas, it would avail them nothing but their own downfall. Seven shots found themselves deflected, the rest dodged with practiced steps and subtle movements that went little beyond the bob of the head or weave of the shoulders. Three of those shots found themselves deflected with rival precision, striking Sycamore’s foes in torso, chest and face. Incapacitated, or dead.

The threat of the smugglers defeated, for the moment at the very least, Sycamore moved to intervene with Aoki’s bout. Only to stop short, and simply watch. The look on his face, for perhaps the first time since this venture began, not a mask of solidified confidence that so dangerously bordered on arrogance with a smirk to match. At that moment, it was genuine astonishment.

The speed of Aoki’s blade was but s white blur, the red coming to meet it at the very last instant before a stroke that was sure to be fatal striking true. With no signs of relenting either. At least in Aoki’s case. For her foe the subtle signs of tiring were witnessable, in subtle ways. Those deflections came slower. Grunts of frustration were heard more audibly. Their steps were in retreat, not in countenance or in the faintest hopes of counterattack.

The fight was over, the Sith simply didn’t know it yet.

“Yield, Sith! Or die! You have been bested!”