The Galaxy put them in the Dark for a Reason

[Akk Akk]

Kaalonia was a world so different from the majority of the planets in the galaxy, certainly the majority of the civilized worlds that were part of the galactic community. It was a world that had managed to stay out of the way for thousands of years with only a visitor here or there. A series of visitors that landed on the planet and were never able to leave the world; those who were greedy to explore the caves and met their doom, those who had curiosity be their doom, and those who crashed and had no choice but to try and survive until the swarms of the subterranean menace carried them off into oblivion. The curious, the devious, and the unfortunate, the world covered by mountain and sea did not discriminate its victims. Those who lived beneath the surface having no care for what the surface dwellers who explored into their caves were like. The creatures from beneath the ground were driven by the desire to destroy each other and fight for their Ancient King, their Princes, and their Priests to try and reign supreme on a planet possibly more divided than any other in the galaxy.

This divided presence both a great strength and a great weakness to the Kaalonians. A people so buried in their conflict that there was no time to try and understand greater levels of technology, no time to explore the mysteries of art, no time to discover the freakish behavior some of the Priest class were capable of when it came to the powers of the mind. No, theirs was a world where metal ruled the world. Those with the greatest number of swords conquered and those who couldn’t keep up with the numbers were swallowed by other Petty Kingdoms seeking to expand their rule. These underground empires waged wars that lasted thousands of years without their people ever seeing the light of day or the vast stretches of sea that surrounded the mega continent. The way of live was the crashing of metal, the drawing of blood, and the burning of their underground cities. It was these two regular events that created much of the light in their dark tunnels. This was a realm that lived in a culture of warfare and death. A culture that could not, would not, and refused to advance past their differences. A culture of fear and cowardice that was only defeated by the pure mass of flesh as two sides collided.

Yet, the surface of the world left no trace of these wars. Warfare that would make the strongest of men cringe as the unfathomable death tolls rose, a level of brutality that would make the darkest hearts give pause, a ferocity that would cause the peerless Mandalorians to quake in their armor, a world that was simply the life of a Kaalonian.

The surface gave pause to all of it. It was a perfect representation of the innocence of their planet and of a species so blinded by darkness and hate that it no longer dared to walk the surface and pollute that innocence. A people that were left beyond as the control of the galaxy changed hands and faced warfare that would have Kaalonian leaders laughing at the worlds that complained of their predicaments, mocking what the rest of the galaxy called warfare.

The hate of Princes and Priests who sent billions to their deaths in the name of growing their Petty Kingdoms but a few miles, the tunnels who were filled with so many dead they were completely unusable for anything but feeding pits for the young. The body counts so numerous that cannibalism was seen as a necessary way of life. This perverse culture of the Kaalonians, a people that didn’t deserve to be risen up to the galactic stage, lived in their own punishment. The very galaxy deemed them to serve their sentence until their people destroyed themselves.

The galaxy didn’t count on the greed of the Hutts…

A greed that led to the construction and maintenance of the only spaceport on the planet, the city named after the very clan that constructed it: Vinsidj. It had started small but with the nearly unlimited labor force plus the Hutts own off world resources, it had quickly grown in a city that numbered in the hundreds of thousands of off world peoples. This city looked vastly out of place as its center was at the base of a pair of great mountains. Up along each mountain side were numerous Hutt fortresses with blaster cannons ready to bring down any ships that weren’t cleared to land in the spaceport below. A city that looked so very out of place on the peaceful surface of Kaalonia. The design was geared towards preparing itself for off world tourism and as a trade hub. The initial ideas of a secluded fortress going away at the discovery of the previous metals and gems that were hidden away in the mountainous world and the Hutts eyes turned to the profits that could be worked off the nearly free labor of the Kaalonian backs.

The Kaalonians felt the effect of this off world desire as underground factories were constructed below the city of Vinsidj. Entire Petty Kingdoms brought in to work in these factories where the death toll was lower and the life expectancy higher than anywhere else on the world! Unfortunately, this life expectancy was still far lower than any civilized world would ever expect, but who was to know of the plight of the Kaalonians when their own people saw it as a blessing to be away from the warfare? To face the threat of spilled molten metal rather than the threat of death in conflict? This vicious world’s nature was being exploited by a manipulative creature that called itself a Hutt. An off world species, surface dwellers to the native Kaalonians, who were seen as a race to look up to and learn from since they had brought such wondrous technology to the world.

A race that could only lead the Kaalonians to being even more vicious and deadly than they already were…

 

[Torjesgo]

[POSTING FOR TYGER TYGER]

Deep Space, somewhere between Mon Calamari and Tund

In a life lived adrift, self-sufficiency is paramount. You stand alone, against the current, against the grain, harnessing all of your individual essence to triumph over every clique, every faction, every society, by sheer force of will, impressing upon every would-be agent of encroaching conformity and law that, while they have the numbers, it is you who have the cards. The wayward is to bluff, is to riddle, is to seduce, and is to lie. Failing these, the wayward had better be physically fit. Where charisma falters, intimidation can succeed; where bribery fails, boxing triumphs; and when the chips are down and nothing seems to be working at all, there is no plan more sure than to run really, really fast.

And so it was that Fitness was at the top of Milo’s priorities.

They were 4-count push-ups, two actual descents for every rep -- not atypical of the Imperial Military tradition to force progress by undermining hard-won success. Milo had just rounded 80 when he noticed the blue light offering a faint reflection as it rebounded off the perma-dingy floor. A bead of sweat ran from his hairline and down his chin as he looked up, exasperation plastered across his face at the Herglic in hologram form that watched, but said nothing.

“Hello?,” it wasn’t a greeting, really, nor even a question, but an irritated reminder of how these holocalls were supposed to work.

“…Tyger Tyger?,” the slow orca-looking humanoid guessed. He was wrong, for the most part.

Again, with the Tyger Tyger. The routinely mistaken identity had begun to wear on his patience, but despite how alien Milo found the title, or even how silly, he couldn’t deny that it had brought him some degree of fortune.

…And come to think of it, a little trouble, too…

“My name is Raan'eaould W'haa—“

“--You have work?,” Milo asked, attempting to circumvent W’haamuu’s poor holocall manner.

“I have…hauum –“ the Herglic literally blasted air from his blowhole, “-opportunity.”

Milo pushed himself to his feet, fetching a towel from the arm of the worn wraparound sofa and used it to bead the moisture from his face. W’haamuu stared at him, apparently needing prompting every step of the way. It was as though he thought he had the wrong number.

“Well?”

W’haamuu found Milo’s temperament a rude one – that much was evident in the shiny scrunching of his face. However, his words remained devoid of inflection or mood. Oddly enough, it possessed a wandering cadence.

He began again.

“There is a resort world new to known space -- Kaalonia -- Its natural resources as mysterious as the sentient Kaalonians roaming the labyrinthine caverns beneath.”

Milo sighed, making mental highlights as the orca weaved a whale of a tale.

No Intel
Treasure
Natives
Tunnels

“Recently, I had acquired a haum-“ Again, with the blowhole, “-- priceless gem in a game of pazaak. An unfortunate Gammorean; an umron, of course” A smile of pure delight crept across the smooth, featureless face of the Herglic. “The gem’s beauty was unmatched, and, appropriately, without a name.”

“Okay. And I suppose it’s from Kaalonia?” Milo was picking up what W’hamuu was putting down, hopefully sanding a few superfluous sentences from the pitch in his doing so. “’Not so new to known space,’ after all.”

“So it would seem. By the way, the gem sold to a Hapanese noble for a small fortune.” Milo felt the Herglic warm to him, though without any traditional cues, he’d be scant to explain how. He rolled his arms to stretch out his back and shifted in his stance.

“The Vinsidj Clan have staked their claim to Kaalonia. The Hutts, so fat and ugly, they only know progress as it is built off the back of others. The native sentients are likely slaves and indentured servants to the Vinsidj. The Union wants them to know there is a better deal.”

Hutts
Mercenaries
Class War/ Civil Unrest
Business

“Then I’d better go tell them. Thanks for the tip –“ Milo went to call the Herglic by his last name, but realized he’d cut the fellow trader off prematurely and thus, didn’t catch it.

“I am sending you the lane charts. Good luck, Tyger Tyger.”

Stepping toward the console of the holodisplay, Milo nodded a sound between “Yeah” and “uh huh” and closed the line.


Kaalonia

“Spacer, there’s something off with your IFF. What’s your business here?”

It was nightfall when Milo had finally arrived, lingering just outside the atmosphere as he awaited clearance from the Vinsidj spaceport – The only game in town.

“I…don’t know. I was tracking this was a resort?”

“ You ‘was trackin’?’ I don’t know anything about that….”

Milo cursed W’hamuu’s poor intel.

Whatever. When ignorant, be ignorant.

“I must be in the wrong place. I apologize for the inconvenience…”

“Now, hold up, spacer – Who told you this was a resort? Is there anyone who can clear you through?” The controller was insistent – something smelled fishy, and the stink lines were coming from Milo’s story. Perhaps smug with his authority, the gatekeeper began to push, toying with his prey. Milo could hear the grin framing his voice.

This wasn’t looking good.

“No, it’s fine…I’ll just be going.”

Another voice in another language. The silence indicating the controller’s obedience to the shift in strategy.

“Far Star, please prepare for landing,” the controller said, now speaking as the law (or what passed for it around here, anyway). The spaceport coordinates flashed upon his monitor.

Kriff.

Had they identified him? Did he give them that name? His head was swimming, and he pondered for a moment high-tailing it the hell out of there.

No.

“Roger Wilco, cruising to hangar coordinates.”

He descended into the atmosphere, his surroundings darkening as the stars fled his viewport. With no local radio transmissions, Milo was forced to confront just how loud his ship was during basic operation, just how loud his heart was beating in his throat.

Flipping a few switches, the Far Star adjusted to this new gravity.

Every nerve in his body made a fist as Fight and Flight reflexes warred over his chemistry until one finally won out. He didn’t have to go in blind.
The given trajectory lead Milo along a coastline where the waves crashing against the steep mountainous boundaries went unheard under the rattle of giant engines. The earth beneath reflected a blue glow as the illumination from the stars above shone without restriction by any smog of industry. This planet (at least the top layer of it, anyway) had never been marred by civilization.

Finally, he came upon an arrangement of lights gridding the Cliffside and illustrating for all approaching the location of the space port. Open hangars were left ajar, their fluorescents pouring out into the night and upon the sea below. However, Milo wasn’t ready to park just yet.

Flying overhead, the Far Star took a peak at the surrounding city of Vinsidj, and, with a flip of a switch, captured the aerial view in infared.

“You overshot, Far Star. Refrain from deviating from the path.”

“Whoops.”

Ascending sharply, Milo reversed the direction of his flight and brought her back around. After careful positioning, the Far Star settled down inside one of the empty hangars, the metal door closing sharply behind him.

“Please drop your loading ramp and remain inside your freighter.”

“Too easy,” Milo complied, and slid away from his captain’s chair.

He checked a nearby monitor for to make sure it had properly loaded the imagery data, and then headed into the main living area to face the music – that blaster-barrel blues.

 

[Akk Akk]

The Hutts were quick to ensure they had a local supply of manpower to use as a military auxiliary to their own forces. Not only did it save on the costs of bringing and maintaining the more expensive Hutt slave races but they were accustomed to the world already, were extremely numerous, and didn’t demand a great deal of pay. A few shiny new gadgets and the Hutts had bought families into their servitude without much difficulty. Others were obtained in even seedier means through kidnapping or being sold by their Petty Kingdom into the Hutts.

So when the starship landed in the hanger there was a Twi’lek in non-military garbs and acting as an ambassador to the new guest. Flaking the Twi’lek was a gray skinned Nikto who had on plenty of body armor and was equipped with a heavy repeating rifle making it clear what his purpose was. In front and behind the two humanoids stood the hunched over forms of the Kaalonians.

Their feudal-level civilization was prominently on display as all of them were covered in iron and steel plating that had been augmented with visible strips of stronger metal to help deflect against blows from vibroblades that were provided by the Vinsidj Hutt family. Their faces were entirely covered by chainmail with the exception of the gaps for their eyes. While it may have been nothing to the Hutts or their normal slave species, the Kaalonians were still new to the galaxy and the families that were selected pooled what money they could into providing their fathers or sons with the best looking equipment to serve the surface dwelling aliens with. They were all equipped with their own purchased swords the Hutts had made sure to give them blaster carbines or pistols for their smaller frames so they were actually capable of exchanging firing with any expected trouble making smugglers or pirates.

The precession of the hanger guards was led by the sound of the metals scratching and the clattering of chainmail. The Nikto was the first in with a pair of the Kaalonians following quickly and moving to guard the exit right away before the more recognizable and humanoid pair of Hutt slaves moved to find the Spacer of the Far Star. The Twi’lek being the first to speak to the Spacer in Huttese, “[Spacer, we will be conducting a sweep of your ship for contraband. If any is found it will be taken and if serious enough your ship will be impounded. Do you have anything you will admit to prior to our search?]” The Twi’lek was speaking casually but the Nikto was a little tense with his hold on the rifle in anticipation of trouble.

In the background, the sound of the Kaalonians moving about and bringing aboard a scanner system could be heard.

 

[Torjesgo]

[POSTING FOR TYGER TYGER]

The Nikto meant business – the kind of business Milo was still a bit green in. Deciding better against fighting his way out, he raised his hands to the ceiling to make it abundantly clear, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that he had no intention of reaching for the scattergun holstered at his leg.

“Look, I’m just an Imperial citizen and I’m a little lost…”

The Twi’lek began his inquisition, and to Milo’s dismay, he found he didn’t understand a word of it.

“Like I said – I was born on Dromund Kaas. I have no idea what you’re saying. I only know Galactic Basic Standard.”

The twilek was disgusted and his face wrinkled to reflect it. “And who it was who declared such a low standard, we may never know…” He allowed his thought to trail for a moment before he collecting his purpose. “Is this some kind of joke, Spacer? You come all the way out here to the Outer Rim clothed only in the idiot-tongue of the Empire?”

There was the twinkling of chainmail; the clanking of plate; and then the hollow CLUNK of the scanner as the two little Kaalonians, having reached the top of the ramp, set it down on the floor for a brief respite.

The Nikto’s stare did not waver, and Milo projected intensity upon it as the lizardman gestured him back, out of the path of the two little rat-men shouldering their equipment.

“Is this not the Far Star? Are you not Tyger Tyger?”

The Nikto’s gaze shifted to the Twi’lek before returning to Milo, and Milo imagined there was something different in his eyes. With no less intensity, the Nikto holstered his weapon and moved towards the scanner, ushered one of the Kaalonians away, and took his share of the load with one hand while giving the ratman an encouraging pat on the bottom with the other. The Kaalonian grabbed his blaster and leveled it up at Milo with menace.

The Twi’lek glanced at the Nikto, who nodded back, carrying the sensor into the cargo hold while Milo was helpless to do anything about it.
Milo said nothing, his eyebrows lowering in wrath. His arms were falling asleep, and he was getting more and more fed up with all this Tyger Tyger stuff with every passing minute.

“No…You are making sport of me, I think. ‘I do not know Huttese’,” he spat something in Twi’leki. Stroking one of his lekku like an Atrisian Sage stroking his Fu Manchu, he continued, “It doesn’t matter. My master has expected a delivery from you for some time. You will have it, for I do not expect him to be so patient a second –“

From the cargo hold, a high-pitched exclamation in Kaalese.

The Nikto popped back into the room, addressing his superior with a Huttese “<It’s here>” and revealing that “he” was, in fact, a “she.”

“So you live for another hour...”

With a click of his communicator, the twilek summoned forth additional Kaalonians to help unburden Milo of the Hutt’s relevant cargo. As the rats scurried past with a rather sizeable crate, he could not help but to coulda, woulda, shoulda regarding his conducting of inventory. In the end, however, it was too late. The mystery would go unsolved…Though it hardly seemed to matter anymore. The hangar door sealed and his exit with it, Milo was then instructed to stay aboard his vessel pending proper guidance.

With a sigh, Milo collapsed onto his sofa and awaited his fate.

 

[Akk Akk]

While Tyger Tyger may have found himself imprisoned on his ship, the Kaalonian Akk Akk was imprisoned in a much more demeaning fashion. The large beast was currently set up off to the side of the hedonist creature. A massive slug beast that seemed to never move from that platform he rested on. Akk Akk was on a much smaller platform and adorned in his standard Kaalonian pteruges that was usually the extent of armor for the Kaalonian sub-species to wear. That didn’t mean the huts hadn’t add in their own touch to everything. The pteruges had been given an extra layer of precious metals and washed to remove some of the blood and dirt that had been crusted into it. The Hutt servants had made it more visually appealing as a display of the Vinsidj Hutt’s wealth.

The large rat man, as he had been called many times in various languages, had also been put in varying bindings to make it clear what his role was until he didn’t cause any trouble. A heavy golden ring running through his nostrils that was attached to a chain running down to the ground and into a sunken pulley for his two keepers to be able to quickly pull him down if issues arose. His wrists were clasp in magnetic irons that were overlaid with gold to keep appearances up. The two irons could be activated remotely to draw together with their magnetic field to assist in restraining the beast.

They had tried to clean him but when they took a brush to a particularly weak part of his flesh and ended up peeling it right off with the scrubbing, it was the end of them bothering with that. Instead they figured that his scent would be largely covered up by the Hutt, the foods, and the guests that were moving around. If the Hutt could be tolerated then there was the hope that the pestilence carrying creature could as well.

Akk Akk’s situation was anything but ideal. Oh sure, he wasn’t the main attraction, for which he was grateful. That fell onto a trio of oddly colored, non-furred, humanoids. They were chained up as well though the weight of their equipment seemed to be significantly less. The Atuli Kaalonian was uncomfortable having so many eyes regularly on him and kept his focus largely towards the floor or looking up when there was music or dancing going on. Something that he could focus on without drawing any added attention to himself.

His unwillingness to do much more than sit had irked the Hutt more than once and Akk Akk had been reminded that he had to look more intimidating and less depressed. Since it didn’t work particularly well, today was the first day they had actually brought him something different to wear. It was a heavy mask that strapped over his entire head. It was very grotesque and reptilian with dents purposefully placed into it to seem as though it had been used. His eyes were covered in dark domes so no one could follow where he was looking and his teeth were over exaggerated on the outside and ending in wicked, pointed fangs.

While it didn’t do much to change how he felt, it did give a more imposing and aware looking figure. Akk Akk had tried to muscle himself free once and had caught his keepers by surprise so that usually earned him a decent berth by anyone walking by and from the Hutt’s perspective, added more fear to the nature of having such a creature. He had been instructed many times that if anything were to happen that he was supposed to fight off the intruder, but he knew that if something occurred he would be more likely to try and kill his handlers and the Hutt instead of whomever was causing trouble.

The thought of that had his head turning just enough that he could look at the Hutt while he was speaking with his assistant in the Huttese tongue. He didn’t know any Huttese at all so couldn’t follow, but he could feel his heart pounding harder in his chest and he wanted to be able to get his hands on that blob and dig his teeth into the creature’s head to kill him for placing him in this situation.

 

[Tyger Tyger]

Milo did the best he could to count off the hours as they ticked by, gauging the passage of time by the angle through which the morning light entered the glass of the hangar’s door and into the Far Star’s viewport; by the swaying direction of the shadows cast upon the floor, laughing at him every time his manic pacing brought him once more into the cockpit. He was sizing up the imagery data he’d gathered earlier, charting egress and regress routes, potential sniper points, etc., mustering the table scraps of confidence and hope as they fell to the floor of his imagination. He would then return to his patrol, agitated by lack of direction and order – too much uncertainty and boredom from wall to wall and back again.

What was once a key to freedom had become a prison lock.

A slight shift in his patterns lead him into enter the main living area from a different angle, and this road less traveled by made all the difference. On the ground was a tiny parchment of paper -- the sheathe to a stick of chewing gum -- with a frequency code on it. “The Nikto…,” Milo reckoned. Be it by purpose or accident, this little scrap of information had made its way into the Far Star, and if not for Milo’s sudden awareness of being at the mercy of countless variables, machinations, and dumb luck, he may not have been so…superstitious? …as to input the number at all.

Imperial Intelligence Base – Location: Unknown.

“Sir, our Bajic beacon is receiving a holocall transmission – Looks like Line of Effort Tango Six.”

That is to say, the Kaalonia operation.

“Ah – this must be the famous Tyger Tyger,” chuckled Watcher-Four, moving from behind the shoulder of one of the Minders to focus his attention to the main holofeed terminal. His tone was facetious, and he made no effort to conceal it. “I wonder what he could possibly require of my humble cell! Patch him through, Fixer-12.”

“Feed up!,” Fixer-12 shouted, instantly silencing the chatter of his co-workers.

With a blip, Milo suddenly appeared in all his blue, translucent glory. He was staring at them intently, their Imperial uniforms instantly indicating them as friendly. Still, however, he had no idea how he could be so fortunate. He waited for them to tell him.

Watcher-Four cupped a hand around his mouth, veiling the movements of his lips from Milo as he gestured a Minder over and whispered.

“Did this idiot really just show us all his real face?”

“Uh…it seems that way, sir.”

“He’s a bit young, isn’t he?”

“I…uh…wouldn’t know, sir.”

“Get biometrics on it -- I want everything you can find on our informant here in one hour.”

The Minder nodded. As he departed from the holoscene, Watcher-Four lowered his hand from his mouth to reveal an ingratiating smile to Milo.

“So. You must be Tyger Tyger,” the Intelligence Officer obliged. “Wow. When Cypher Agent Tunnelrat told me of your discovery, I just couldn’t believe it.”

Milo’s eyebrows lowered and his shoulders, his fists, tensed as became quite visibly agitated.

“Look, I don’t know what any of you are talking about –“

“Oh, you’re being modest,” Watcher-Four’s voice rose slightly, asserting dominance and reassuming control of the conversation. He wasn’t looking at Milo anymore, exactly, his left hand drawing up a floating holoscreen before his face, manipulating the data upon it with a swat and a drag until Milo could see the Tyger Tyger dossier, albeit from the back. His eyebrow larked at what he could see of the photo provided – a hooded figure with that mysterious eye and star in its center. None of the other features were clear. While he watched, the portrait was replaced with his own. “I’m talking about your stunning sixty-plus year career in government service! I’m talking about over 143 enemies of the throne captured, killed, and otherwise incapacitated!”

His voice reached a crescendo, “I’m talking about Tyger Tyger, the single greatest informant this Empire has ever had the privilege of investing in!”

Perhaps he was overselling it.

Milo scratched the back of his head awkwardly, unconsciously falling into old scripts of resignation to the ignorance of superior rank. “Well…uh…thanks?”

‘Ignorance” was a stranger to Imperial Intelligence. With a two-handed swat, Watcher-Four cleared the screen, stating with markedly less excitement “No, no. Thank you.” The romancing stage was over.
And so, Watcher-Four changed gears, interlocking his fingers and stretching them outward – a popping sound for effect. “Now – Codename: Tunnelrat tells me you’re in quite the predicament…”

“Codename: Tunnelrat…The Nikto.”

Watcher-Four grinned knowingly.

“Are we really so obvious? I suppose we shouldn’t expect to be able to hide before so much experience…”

Milo didn’t quite know how to take the misaimed praise. In fact, it made him feel a little bit weird. He overcompensated with a brooding stare.

Watcher Four was unabashed.

“Anyway, your presence here does throw a bit of a wrench into the operation. No matter. The Vinsidj will be taking their shipment from you, but don’t mind all the threats and intimidation. You have responded favorably to tasking in the past, Tyger Tyger, and that makes you and the Far Star a valuable asset to Imperial Intelligence. You WILL be kept alive, and you WILL be able to leave Kaalonia. I will see to that, sport – I promise you. If manage to reacquire your merchandise in the process, that would be a bonus.”

“Sure – that sounds fantastic and all, but just how exactly do you plan to get me out of here?”

Milo was skeptical and his movement-while-talking conveyed as much.

“Subterfuge. Obfuscation. And, failing that, contrary to policies of laziness and near-perfect absence laid down by our RED ALIEN FEMALE--,” Watcher Four was Imperial alright – Racist AND Sexist. True Blue., “-- Intelligence ministers, we are not above getting our hands dirty.”

“It is why we wear gloves, after all, “ Watcher Four stated, delicately lifting his hand to pull his black glove more tautly over it. “It is why we wear gloves.”

“Well….wow. “

“Don’t seem so surprised. You’ve been a good friend to the Empire, so it shall be good to you. All that we ask is that you keep your eyes open. The minerals to which the native Kaalonians have access remain one of our primary intelligence gaps. If you can find out anything, report it. If you have an opportunity to broker a deal without the Hutts playing middle management, take it. I trust you know Kaalese?”

Milo opened his mouth to respond, only to be cut off prematurely. “Of course you do.”
"Fear not, Tyger Tyger – Everything is under control. Welcome home. We shall be in touch. Ta!”

Watcher Four waved goodbye as the holographic Milo faded away, the transmission closed. He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Tell me something good, Minder-Twenty.”

“BIOINT just shot back, sir. It’s…uh…it’s a little weird.”

“Oh?,” Watcher Four played along lackadaisically, once more opening his holobrowser.

“Yes, sir. Apparently, he’s one of ours.”

Watcher-Four opened the newly deposited intelligence: a dossier on one Petty Officer Milo Nox of the Imperial Navy.

“Oh my…,” the intelligencer officer stated around a stifled fit of giggles. He was skimming the document. Milo having been an Imperial subject, Intelligence had his entire life accounted for.

“It seems up until about a month ago, he had been an officer candidate at the Naval Academy. Took emergency leave citing the death of his father. Didn’t renew his contract, but has retained reservist status. Looks like Ensign Nox decided he would much rather be a century-old privateer.”

Watcher Four was full on laughing now…”Isn’t that just precious.” A grand fortune just fell into his lap: Absolute Control.

“Minder Twenty, have Petty Officer Nox’s dossier classified up to the highest level. No one need know that our pet urban legend is qualified for little more than fast food in the civilian world. Heavens forbid some General mistake such a valuable asset for some run-of-the-mill soldier.”

“Yes, sir.”

With one last cackle, Watcher-Four turned toward his office, his fingertips steepled together in contemplation.

The Far Star – Vinsidj City, Kaalonia

Morning had come, not with the buzz of an alarm clock, but with the barrel of a blaster…clunked cruelly against his resting forehead. Milo made a sleepy, disgruntled sound composed without letters and awoke to find a ratman, his rifle modified for his short stature in hand, shouting through his nose a language Milo could not understand. The violent gestures, however, were loud and clear.

Milo stood from the wraparound sofa and placed his hands behind his head and the Kaalonian lead him out of the Far Star to face the verdict at the feet of the Hutts.

@[member="Akk Akk"]

 

[Akk Akk]

Throne Room

The hours flew by for the large Kaalonian. He was becoming uncomfortably comfortable with the situation he was in. It wasn’t all that different from what he had done before. His size had always been the main reason that he was selected to do anything and this was no different. Had he still been in the familiar confines of the underground he would just be at the forefront of a battle levying a heavy metal barrier to protect his brethren as they charged forwards to clash into one another. Here he had traded a big shield for a helmet that hid his gaze from view and instead of armor he had various pieces of cheap metals supporting fake gems to make him appear as more of a prestigious display of wealth than he actually was. He had traded eternal conflict for sitting here in front of a massively obese… thing instead. Akk Akk still didn’t know what he was looking at when he looked at that slug monster, it looked like something that anyone in this room should be trying to kill instead of listening to and showing so much favor towards.

How anyone wished to serve that creature was beyond comprehension for the Atuli Kaalonian. It was a big blob that should be feeding a small army instead of having people dance for it and creatures such as Akk Akk sitting as pieces of decoration. Yet, the creature had brought wealth to the world and he could see it with the other Kaalonians that were being controlled by that blob thing. They scurried about as though he were a regular Prince or Priest to them. It made him wonder if his brethren under the control of this creature would still listen to the Ancient King if a summons rang out or if the off world treasures would turn them against their ancient ways.



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Escorting Tyger Tyger
The Kaalonians around the human were quick to make sure he was offloaded from the ship. Once the human was brought off of the ship, two more of the diminutive aliens were quick to move to flank his sides. Their forms covered up in chainmail and plate metal to keep their forms from being completely visible aside from splotches of exposed fur here and there and where their eyes were peering up at him and across the fabrics he was wearing.

As they traveled along, the lead Kaalonian would turn to make sure that Tyger Tyger was still following behind him. The other two were busy pressing their hands against the human to feel the fabric that he was wearing, though they’d quickly pull back if he made any sort of motion towards them. As they neared the throne room the two Kaalonians that were flanking him were quick to scatter to the sides and the one before him moved towards a Gamorrean guard and a Nikto. Speaking to them in Huttese to convey the prisoner’s purpose before he too was scattering off to the side. A quick glance to look over the human once more to see what his brethren may have been able to snag from him: shoelaces, buttons, bits of loose fabric, etc. Whatever they could get their hands on to trade with some of the other Kaalonians who were more enamored with getting things from the off worlders.

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Throne Room


Akk Akk turned his head towards the doors when they hissed open to see that a human was being brought in. It appeared as though a set of shackles were placed on the alien and the Gamorrean made sure to give the smaller human a pretty good check in the back with the heavy axe to make sure that there was no slowing down as the trio approached the hutt. The large Kaalonian’s mask giving a slightly reflective surface as his eyes covered gaze followed their movement. His large form puffing up a bit as he could feel a chain tugging at his collar and working to straighten him up. A huff of annoyance that could be mistaken as a grunt of warning towards the human as his hands reached up towards his collar. Large fingers working to try and wiggle a claw between his throat and the metal to tug at it as it pulled at him.

“[Stop…]” he snarled in Kaalese as he turned his head to look over his shoulder at the Gamorrean that was tugging at the chain. It earned him a harder pull that got the Hutt to speak up in a warning tone towards the two as a fight was looking to brew. Something that would hardly make it appear as though the hutt was in control of the throne room. Akk Akk didn’t know what was said, but it had the Gamorrean pulling harder until the Kaalonian relented and just let out a real snarl of distast at the whole situation. The large chest of the male heaving as he was holding back from trying to rip out of his bindings again. Completely oblivious now to the new arrival to the throne room as his head was angled to the floor with his one eye locked entirely on the massive slug while thoughts of vengeance seeped through his brain.