((That old link to part 1:
https://www.tapatalk.com/groups/sithlor ... 10634.html
Cheers!))
You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
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Zechs Merquise
- Full Member
- Posts: 580
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
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Zechs Merquise
- Full Member
- Posts: 580
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
((Decided to upload all the posts and use this opportunity to give them a facelift.))
Zechs had money. It was often scattered across multiple interests in an attempt to make some positive influence on the galaxy. That was changing now. He no longer roamed the stars on some frigate or between ports of call in a shuttle. It was time to find a home.
A home where he could spend the rest of his days. A home where he could store all his stuff his life had accumulated, and where it might be put to better use. That was where his wealth and a few friends getting a head start on him came into play, in case things didn’t go well with his return to Alliance space. It wasn’t like he was going to “retire” to Imperial territory. The taxes alone for coming back from the dead would slay you.
They had pooled their resources and bought a ranch on Naboo. The former Imperial Ace had his private chamber in the basement with an artificial view. There was ample space above ground, but he preferred to keep guests and others isolated from his private space. A couple of those rooms above would soon be occupied by old friends who would call it home as well.
Their fingerprints were all over it. One wanted a study with connections far and wide. Another wanted a small gym to get a better workout than in the field. It was Zechs’s ranch in spirit only. The name over the dirt path would serve a greater purpose with time. Otherwise the ranch grounds were mostly for relaxing. Some ranch hands tended fields, beasts, and stacks of hay. It wasn’t meant to make them rich. It was meant to be a home.
Coruscant had its advantages, but it was too big of a target. It also lacked greenery, and Zechs had seen enough metal for one lifetime. But if he needed the feel of cold hulls and processed air, he had the underground storage facility for their more potent items. Just below his chamber was what some might call his Zechs-cave, since by now it was most likely filled with more of his toys than the others. It was but a secured warehouse of sorts built out of a small cave.
To be safe, Zechs had acquired two former assassin droids to guard it as an ever vigilant insurance policy against hostile actions that might result in harm to anyone, including troublemakers. Most of the armor stands held mostly harmless armor, but the set of Dark trooper armor might prove most troublesome. And that was just the armor. Weapons lined a rack. A few personal mementos rested behind glass cases. It was nothing worth dying for, but it made home potent.
It would have been nice to store a fighter or two down there, but getting it down there would require taking it apart. No, those were best kept elsewhere. There was always a ride or two on his landing pad besides the ranch house. His shuttle would never be far nor some form of fighter. An Eta-2 was a hell of a craft to go get groceries in, but could it be said that was less dramatic than a former Imperial Shuttle?
It was home, but decades of service of various powers had Zechs fine tuned. It was home, but it was also secure. Some almost state of the art security monitored the grounds for intruders thanks to their corporate connections. A few additional kind assassin droids stood in concealed alcoves in case of emergencies called for a rapid response. And if it became needed their private little warehouse could easily become a safe room with a flick of a switch.
Were there efforts overboard? Yes. Yes, they were. Being a former Imperial, Rebel, Corporate person, and now a member of the Alliance, it did come with some mild paranoia. Zechs and the others weren't immune to it. They had each worn enough different uniforms to warrant spending the rest of their days in a frigate in deep space, but even that would never be safe enough. Trouble always came, even if it was just a cold.
There would be endless tweaks to the decor and the security arrangements. The foundation they had laid would and probably already had become something much more if plans had progressed as agreed. No, it wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was Naboo, not Coruscant. The Alliance might not be the noblest of all knights, but it didn’t sling its own poop around in corruption and call it civil like the Empire.
Zechs was home and on Naboo of all places. Or so, he would be soon. He had yet to personally see it. As his shuttle broke orbit, the moment was fast approaching.
Zechs had money. It was often scattered across multiple interests in an attempt to make some positive influence on the galaxy. That was changing now. He no longer roamed the stars on some frigate or between ports of call in a shuttle. It was time to find a home.
A home where he could spend the rest of his days. A home where he could store all his stuff his life had accumulated, and where it might be put to better use. That was where his wealth and a few friends getting a head start on him came into play, in case things didn’t go well with his return to Alliance space. It wasn’t like he was going to “retire” to Imperial territory. The taxes alone for coming back from the dead would slay you.
They had pooled their resources and bought a ranch on Naboo. The former Imperial Ace had his private chamber in the basement with an artificial view. There was ample space above ground, but he preferred to keep guests and others isolated from his private space. A couple of those rooms above would soon be occupied by old friends who would call it home as well.
Their fingerprints were all over it. One wanted a study with connections far and wide. Another wanted a small gym to get a better workout than in the field. It was Zechs’s ranch in spirit only. The name over the dirt path would serve a greater purpose with time. Otherwise the ranch grounds were mostly for relaxing. Some ranch hands tended fields, beasts, and stacks of hay. It wasn’t meant to make them rich. It was meant to be a home.
Coruscant had its advantages, but it was too big of a target. It also lacked greenery, and Zechs had seen enough metal for one lifetime. But if he needed the feel of cold hulls and processed air, he had the underground storage facility for their more potent items. Just below his chamber was what some might call his Zechs-cave, since by now it was most likely filled with more of his toys than the others. It was but a secured warehouse of sorts built out of a small cave.
To be safe, Zechs had acquired two former assassin droids to guard it as an ever vigilant insurance policy against hostile actions that might result in harm to anyone, including troublemakers. Most of the armor stands held mostly harmless armor, but the set of Dark trooper armor might prove most troublesome. And that was just the armor. Weapons lined a rack. A few personal mementos rested behind glass cases. It was nothing worth dying for, but it made home potent.
It would have been nice to store a fighter or two down there, but getting it down there would require taking it apart. No, those were best kept elsewhere. There was always a ride or two on his landing pad besides the ranch house. His shuttle would never be far nor some form of fighter. An Eta-2 was a hell of a craft to go get groceries in, but could it be said that was less dramatic than a former Imperial Shuttle?
It was home, but decades of service of various powers had Zechs fine tuned. It was home, but it was also secure. Some almost state of the art security monitored the grounds for intruders thanks to their corporate connections. A few additional kind assassin droids stood in concealed alcoves in case of emergencies called for a rapid response. And if it became needed their private little warehouse could easily become a safe room with a flick of a switch.
Were there efforts overboard? Yes. Yes, they were. Being a former Imperial, Rebel, Corporate person, and now a member of the Alliance, it did come with some mild paranoia. Zechs and the others weren't immune to it. They had each worn enough different uniforms to warrant spending the rest of their days in a frigate in deep space, but even that would never be safe enough. Trouble always came, even if it was just a cold.
There would be endless tweaks to the decor and the security arrangements. The foundation they had laid would and probably already had become something much more if plans had progressed as agreed. No, it wasn't perfect, but it didn't have to be. It was Naboo, not Coruscant. The Alliance might not be the noblest of all knights, but it didn’t sling its own poop around in corruption and call it civil like the Empire.
Zechs was home and on Naboo of all places. Or so, he would be soon. He had yet to personally see it. As his shuttle broke orbit, the moment was fast approaching.
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Zechs Merquise
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- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
The shuttle landed, but it wasn't Zechs who was first off it. It was a pair of droids. This pair was almost as inseparable as another infamous droid pair, but this partnership was much more beneficial to both of them with far less complaining. A protocol droid named Rebo and an astromech named Zooty moved out onto the shuttle’s ramp.
Zooty chimed in with a slurring storm of zoot and zooty. Beeping wasn't its thing. "Zooty. Zoot zoot!" It was nonsense as magical and insightful as any statement ever made by a droid.
Rebo patted Zooty on its dome. “Indeed. It appears very smelly. I knew we should have brought wipes, but I doubt we’d have enough to wipe this place clean of nature.” It was a safe assumption by the droid.
Zechs was not one for many words, but the droids drove it out of him like a battalion of Ewoks armed with feathers. “Welcome to a real world.” The stench of life no matter if it was from a beast rolling in mud, a breeze picking up a refinery’s work, or just a burnt meal was more welcoming to him than any hanger deck.
Zooty zooted. Rebo remained unusually silent. A zoot was far rarer than a word from Rebo. The duo wasn’t known for silence. Zechs let it be. He was home, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days on the shuttle’s ramp. There was a bed out there with his name woven into its pillow.
Zechs followed them down the shuttle’s ramp to the empty landing pad. It was smelly to a degree, but smells were going to be there anyway. It was far nicer than a cold corporate building with filtered recycled air and an ever constant climate or some casino hidden in deep space where screwing your friends and strangers out of hard earned money was the norm. This would work. This was a grand start. It was home and something more all in one.
He just had no idea where everyone was. Not even Deeth, their older Ewok ranch boss (none of them were good with titles) and friend, had emerged from her homely hole out back to say hello. Maybe the shuttle had been to subtle on its approach.
Zooty chimed in with a slurring storm of zoot and zooty. Beeping wasn't its thing. "Zooty. Zoot zoot!" It was nonsense as magical and insightful as any statement ever made by a droid.
Rebo patted Zooty on its dome. “Indeed. It appears very smelly. I knew we should have brought wipes, but I doubt we’d have enough to wipe this place clean of nature.” It was a safe assumption by the droid.
Zechs was not one for many words, but the droids drove it out of him like a battalion of Ewoks armed with feathers. “Welcome to a real world.” The stench of life no matter if it was from a beast rolling in mud, a breeze picking up a refinery’s work, or just a burnt meal was more welcoming to him than any hanger deck.
Zooty zooted. Rebo remained unusually silent. A zoot was far rarer than a word from Rebo. The duo wasn’t known for silence. Zechs let it be. He was home, and he didn’t want to spend the rest of his days on the shuttle’s ramp. There was a bed out there with his name woven into its pillow.
Zechs followed them down the shuttle’s ramp to the empty landing pad. It was smelly to a degree, but smells were going to be there anyway. It was far nicer than a cold corporate building with filtered recycled air and an ever constant climate or some casino hidden in deep space where screwing your friends and strangers out of hard earned money was the norm. This would work. This was a grand start. It was home and something more all in one.
He just had no idea where everyone was. Not even Deeth, their older Ewok ranch boss (none of them were good with titles) and friend, had emerged from her homely hole out back to say hello. Maybe the shuttle had been to subtle on its approach.
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Zechs Merquise
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- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
The Peacecraft Ranch looked peaceful from the ramp of the Betrayer. It seemed wrong, but that was the good thing about home. It could look like one thing and truly be another. That was the magic of homely appearances. With luck, this appearance would remain the truth. Trouble had been around enough for a few life times.
The trio of meat and metal made their way to its humble entrance. The openness was startling to someone like Zechs who had spent most of his adult life in the confines of a fighter or some other flying coffin in space. This was different. There was a welcomed breeze. There was a little mat with Peacecraft woven into its netting. It was nice.
The breeze came with perfumes and stenches. The ground was imperfect with lumps and valleys. How he would cherish every mud puddle as it soiled the legs of his pants. This wasn't paradise, but paradise was far too overrated. It was too sterile and post processed for any real living being’s amusement. No, this was so much better.
Zechs tested the door's controls with a brush of his hands. It was so odd to not just be a button that’d slide the door away. It was an old touch someone requested. He couldn’t remember who, but he’d have to thank them. The touch made the difference.
It was weird though. He could have sworn someone had said the handle had been coded to his touch. Perhaps he just needed to try again but with a little more grace, so he did so. He brushed the handle with a lover’s care.
Nothing.
The droids were unusually quiet, but perhaps their silence circuits had tripped. There had to be one of those, right? Otherwise, droids would blow every cover and moment. Not all electronic chatter was welcomed. Still, nothing wasn't good for droids or a door. Zechs took a short breath and tried once last time for new times sake.
Nothing.
Too tired from the journey and years without a place to call his own, Zechs did the only thing left he knew might work. He knocked on his door.
The trio of meat and metal made their way to its humble entrance. The openness was startling to someone like Zechs who had spent most of his adult life in the confines of a fighter or some other flying coffin in space. This was different. There was a welcomed breeze. There was a little mat with Peacecraft woven into its netting. It was nice.
The breeze came with perfumes and stenches. The ground was imperfect with lumps and valleys. How he would cherish every mud puddle as it soiled the legs of his pants. This wasn't paradise, but paradise was far too overrated. It was too sterile and post processed for any real living being’s amusement. No, this was so much better.
Zechs tested the door's controls with a brush of his hands. It was so odd to not just be a button that’d slide the door away. It was an old touch someone requested. He couldn’t remember who, but he’d have to thank them. The touch made the difference.
It was weird though. He could have sworn someone had said the handle had been coded to his touch. Perhaps he just needed to try again but with a little more grace, so he did so. He brushed the handle with a lover’s care.
Nothing.
The droids were unusually quiet, but perhaps their silence circuits had tripped. There had to be one of those, right? Otherwise, droids would blow every cover and moment. Not all electronic chatter was welcomed. Still, nothing wasn't good for droids or a door. Zechs took a short breath and tried once last time for new times sake.
Nothing.
Too tired from the journey and years without a place to call his own, Zechs did the only thing left he knew might work. He knocked on his door.
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Zechs Merquise
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Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
The door opened onto nothing. The trio moved in as each kind’s did. The silence was boring. There should have been background music playing at the least to breath a little warmth into the air. But his friend with the "penthouse" room upstairs didn’t need that. The silence never bothered him. Zechs would have to adjust that for his sanity’s sake.
A steady and deceptively cold voice boomed around a corner and down a hall. ”I’m in the study."
Zechs commanded his droids to take care of the luggage. There was little left, but they'd handle it. It'd just come with a few wise cracks and zoots. The important thing was that it'd be done. One could not fault anyone for bringing a little levity to an otherwise dull task. Not everyone liked being bored, mentally or really.
He made his way through the still surprisingly spartan hall. He would have thought some art would have been hung by now or something. The furniture was at least in the living room to sit comfortable several guests as they watched the latests sports game or news broadcast. It’d also serve as a comfortable meeting room to discuss matters of, well, the spreading of what light they could shine.
The ranch was just a piece of the newly founded Peacecraft Foundation. Their goal wasn't power or anything approaching it. It merely aimed to do a little anonymous good where it could and shine a little light into otherwise darkened hearts. The days of glory for them had long since passed. It was time to let a younger generation seize the glories of war. They'd care for all those who war touched that didn't get songs written about them or the spotlight. War zones were hell, and the people who lived in them needed all the help they could get. They'd do what little they could.
The study came into view, and its biometric lock caught Zechs surprised again. He hadn't expected it, but he should have. It wasn't his study after all. His was in basically a safe room. His roommate could have as many locks as they cared for. Zechs had plenty of space below. Not every credit they had flooded into their philanthropic cause. They were only partially human. They all hadn’t spent time in the Corporate Sector for nothing, but what greed they had born had been tempered into a desire to meet ends.
Zechs made his way in. The only sounds breaking the silence were his steps and the clatter of two droids on their way out. It wouldn't just be the two of them for long. A couple others were due to arrive soon. They weren't a family, but time had made them more than mere friends. They weren't all financial partners, but they'd be nice to have around. They had shared enough battlefields and/or other more pleasant surroundings to make this shared effort more than a mere possibility. As long as Zechs had his space, he could live in a crowded stadium. Assuming the others knew how to use a shower... Everyone had their limits.
The chair spun about to reveal the very Chiss Thrion and far too many numbers on the screen behind him. "Welcome home. I was just going over our foundation's financial standing."
A steady and deceptively cold voice boomed around a corner and down a hall. ”I’m in the study."
Zechs commanded his droids to take care of the luggage. There was little left, but they'd handle it. It'd just come with a few wise cracks and zoots. The important thing was that it'd be done. One could not fault anyone for bringing a little levity to an otherwise dull task. Not everyone liked being bored, mentally or really.
He made his way through the still surprisingly spartan hall. He would have thought some art would have been hung by now or something. The furniture was at least in the living room to sit comfortable several guests as they watched the latests sports game or news broadcast. It’d also serve as a comfortable meeting room to discuss matters of, well, the spreading of what light they could shine.
The ranch was just a piece of the newly founded Peacecraft Foundation. Their goal wasn't power or anything approaching it. It merely aimed to do a little anonymous good where it could and shine a little light into otherwise darkened hearts. The days of glory for them had long since passed. It was time to let a younger generation seize the glories of war. They'd care for all those who war touched that didn't get songs written about them or the spotlight. War zones were hell, and the people who lived in them needed all the help they could get. They'd do what little they could.
The study came into view, and its biometric lock caught Zechs surprised again. He hadn't expected it, but he should have. It wasn't his study after all. His was in basically a safe room. His roommate could have as many locks as they cared for. Zechs had plenty of space below. Not every credit they had flooded into their philanthropic cause. They were only partially human. They all hadn’t spent time in the Corporate Sector for nothing, but what greed they had born had been tempered into a desire to meet ends.
Zechs made his way in. The only sounds breaking the silence were his steps and the clatter of two droids on their way out. It wouldn't just be the two of them for long. A couple others were due to arrive soon. They weren't a family, but time had made them more than mere friends. They weren't all financial partners, but they'd be nice to have around. They had shared enough battlefields and/or other more pleasant surroundings to make this shared effort more than a mere possibility. As long as Zechs had his space, he could live in a crowded stadium. Assuming the others knew how to use a shower... Everyone had their limits.
The chair spun about to reveal the very Chiss Thrion and far too many numbers on the screen behind him. "Welcome home. I was just going over our foundation's financial standing."
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Zechs Merquise
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Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
Zechs didn’t care for the numbers. They’d work out. That was all he needed to hear. It was best not to tell Thrion that, or he might point out the flaws in such blind trust. Then Zechs would have to point out that, as someone who had essentially been left for dead multiple times, he had spent enough time in the space trenches that the numerical mind was no front he’d dare.
Zechs, instead, smiled. “Good.” It was sheer brilliance.
Thrion rose and crossed the study to shake Zechs’s hand. It was a warm touch. The chiss had been learning. Age had not dulled his senses yet. Zechs, on the other hand, had noticed the ever slightest loss in his fine motor skills. It was probably all in his head. It had been bumped around a few times and oxygen deprived at times.
With a moldy creepy smile, Thrion released Zechs’s hand. “Deeth is around somewhere. The others have not arrived yet.”
“Timeliness was not all of our strong suits.” It wasn’t like this was time sensitive. They were merely moving in, not taking part in a multi-fanged assault that required divine precision.
The two turned to the desk. Thrion say himself down as Zechs fell into a chair before it. He felt like he had slipped into a luxury cockpit made just for him. “I take it our random acts of kindness are underway.”
Thrion nodded. “There are small efforts en route to various worlds touched by this seemingly eternal war. A larger effort we’ve begun to take up, but it will be some time before all is in order.”
Eternal war. It fit it far more than any edition of the galactic civil war could. There was little civil about it. It was only mostly galactic. Still, it was good news. Medical supplies were off to fresh wounds on the fronts. Socks were dispatched to the less fortunate on Etti IV. Clown missionaries had been sent to several worlds to lighten hearts.
Acts of random kindness from unnamed strangers on a far off world. That was their plan for their combined wealth. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
Zechs, instead, smiled. “Good.” It was sheer brilliance.
Thrion rose and crossed the study to shake Zechs’s hand. It was a warm touch. The chiss had been learning. Age had not dulled his senses yet. Zechs, on the other hand, had noticed the ever slightest loss in his fine motor skills. It was probably all in his head. It had been bumped around a few times and oxygen deprived at times.
With a moldy creepy smile, Thrion released Zechs’s hand. “Deeth is around somewhere. The others have not arrived yet.”
“Timeliness was not all of our strong suits.” It wasn’t like this was time sensitive. They were merely moving in, not taking part in a multi-fanged assault that required divine precision.
The two turned to the desk. Thrion say himself down as Zechs fell into a chair before it. He felt like he had slipped into a luxury cockpit made just for him. “I take it our random acts of kindness are underway.”
Thrion nodded. “There are small efforts en route to various worlds touched by this seemingly eternal war. A larger effort we’ve begun to take up, but it will be some time before all is in order.”
Eternal war. It fit it far more than any edition of the galactic civil war could. There was little civil about it. It was only mostly galactic. Still, it was good news. Medical supplies were off to fresh wounds on the fronts. Socks were dispatched to the less fortunate on Etti IV. Clown missionaries had been sent to several worlds to lighten hearts.
Acts of random kindness from unnamed strangers on a far off world. That was their plan for their combined wealth. It wasn’t much, but it was a start.
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Zechs Merquise
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- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
Sitting on the porch, Zechs sipped a Nabooian tea and studied the landscape around the two Eta-2 fighters perched on their landing pads. He could see himself get lost in those fields. The grasses had grown over their optimal length. The trees peaked from it and shot into the sky. It was so different was the cities of steel he had known all his life. It drew out his breath.
The grass waved at him as a breeze kicked it over. A faint hint of something tickled his nose. Rains were coming. It was still all very old and new to him. Space had no such irregularities. The sky, though, couldn’t hold his eyes. He just watched the grass sway.
The horizon seemed endless. It curved beyond view into hills and mountains and the civilized world. The peaceful little piece of it called home put little weights on Zechs’s eyelids.
Birdsong caught his ears. It’s gentle tune soothed away the burden of heart and duty. The subtle hum from some distant engine inadvertently added the peaceful cause. It drew his eyelids ever closer to their destination.
Zechs was home. He-
The grass waved at him as a breeze kicked it over. A faint hint of something tickled his nose. Rains were coming. It was still all very old and new to him. Space had no such irregularities. The sky, though, couldn’t hold his eyes. He just watched the grass sway.
The horizon seemed endless. It curved beyond view into hills and mountains and the civilized world. The peaceful little piece of it called home put little weights on Zechs’s eyelids.
Birdsong caught his ears. It’s gentle tune soothed away the burden of heart and duty. The subtle hum from some distant engine inadvertently added the peaceful cause. It drew his eyelids ever closer to their destination.
Zechs was home. He-
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Zechs Merquise
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Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
Peace hadn't held him. He walked their ranch's halls with a vague sense he wasn't sure what they were actually ranching. He was sure it was something to maintain the cover or cover the expenses, but it escaped him like a bug lost in the wind. Their ranch was a taste of paradise. Some details were bound to get lost in the old yet new naboo style pseudo-mansion.
Clanks echoed around the corner as a maintenance droid did its weekly dusting. Zechs had thought to hire someone to come in weekly, but Thrion had suggested a droid would be more effective. Zechs didn't care enough to argue.
Zechs peaked into the empty study, rolling his eyes at the screen someone had forgotten on. Who could manage those truly laborious few steps to turn it off? It'd take the strength of a divine being to manage it. He? His walk continued as lights followed him. Always with him, never too far ahead or too far behind. Light couldn't be wasted. It shined where it was needed most.
He grabbed a flask of water and stepped out the front door. Wild smells teased his him.
It was a quiet morning. The sun was just starting to rise over the not too distant lake. The clouds were just starting to take on dawn's rainbow. Businesses would soon open. Perhaps he'd go into town for morning tea and something different to eat. His eyes relished the morning glare for it was so rare for his space soul. It was peaceful, but it couldn't last.
Out there hidden amongst the beauty of Naboo were two squads of droids to keep them safe. Under the soil was their cache of weapons. Above it were their armed craft and more means of protection ready for whatever fun would come their way or they were in the mood for. It always came back to the war. It was all the wrong kind of shots, if Zechs was asked. Not many did, because they knew better than to tempt an old soldier's grumbles.
In the peace of his piece of paradise, Zechs let one out. In a way of its own, it felt like he had been holding it in for years under layers of control. Something had changed. Maybe it was all those near deaths. Maybe it was that new meat Thrion had "suggested" he try. It was a sign the winds were finally breaking. Maybe it was time to move on.
The Betrayer was out there tucked on its landing pad always ready for him to take it out. Maybe he'd stock up its hidden holds and call up a pair of old droid buddies. See what was out there. The winds were changing, and this time Zechs smelt what was coming.
Clanks echoed around the corner as a maintenance droid did its weekly dusting. Zechs had thought to hire someone to come in weekly, but Thrion had suggested a droid would be more effective. Zechs didn't care enough to argue.
Zechs peaked into the empty study, rolling his eyes at the screen someone had forgotten on. Who could manage those truly laborious few steps to turn it off? It'd take the strength of a divine being to manage it. He? His walk continued as lights followed him. Always with him, never too far ahead or too far behind. Light couldn't be wasted. It shined where it was needed most.
He grabbed a flask of water and stepped out the front door. Wild smells teased his him.
It was a quiet morning. The sun was just starting to rise over the not too distant lake. The clouds were just starting to take on dawn's rainbow. Businesses would soon open. Perhaps he'd go into town for morning tea and something different to eat. His eyes relished the morning glare for it was so rare for his space soul. It was peaceful, but it couldn't last.
Out there hidden amongst the beauty of Naboo were two squads of droids to keep them safe. Under the soil was their cache of weapons. Above it were their armed craft and more means of protection ready for whatever fun would come their way or they were in the mood for. It always came back to the war. It was all the wrong kind of shots, if Zechs was asked. Not many did, because they knew better than to tempt an old soldier's grumbles.
In the peace of his piece of paradise, Zechs let one out. In a way of its own, it felt like he had been holding it in for years under layers of control. Something had changed. Maybe it was all those near deaths. Maybe it was that new meat Thrion had "suggested" he try. It was a sign the winds were finally breaking. Maybe it was time to move on.
The Betrayer was out there tucked on its landing pad always ready for him to take it out. Maybe he'd stock up its hidden holds and call up a pair of old droid buddies. See what was out there. The winds were changing, and this time Zechs smelt what was coming.
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Zechs Merquise
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- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
The Betrayer rested on its landing pad perch not too far from the ranch’s main house. Zechs walked up its ramp, taking hold of its underbelly to steady himself. He had never needed to before, but his hand rose up on its own as if it knew today wasn’t just some ordinary day.
The insides of the Lambda shuttle were unchanged, except for a slight layer of dust. It had been a home away from a home he had long forgotten. It had been… Decades? Maybe more since he last set foot on his native soil, but the shuttle was more home than it ever really way. Time and distance had made it doubly so.
He peaked into one of the few room crammed into its hold to offer passengers some privacy, or, in this case, secure his things Rooms. They were more like closets with an optional bunk. A plus sign formed was formed by the linking corridor with a small seating/staging area at its heart. This shuttle wasn’t a troop transport. It never was going to be. Zechs didn’t need one, but it had moves in the right hands.
He went up to it armory and put his hand on the biometric lock and entered the 4 digit secondary verification code. It actually creaked open. Zechs cringed.
The racks were bare. Zechs remembered when a set of Dark Trooper Armor took up the corner. He wasn’t even sure if he had ever had it fitted to him. Those Imperial days were so long ago. Not even a private stash of finer fluids remained. It was in that barren waste Zechs came to a decision.
Retirement wasn’t for him. Being a “YT guy” wasn’t him. Oh, it had its uses, but this was who he was. The Lambda shuttle was personal travel perfected with refinements and a simple elegance. That didn't exactly match him, but well, that was kind of the point in its own way. It didn't matter. The fact was he had a shuttle that had been neglected. A neglection that needed fixing and now.
He turned to head back to the house. Tools. Gear. Supplies. A nice summer salad with one of those fruity drinks Thrion rambled on about. These were the things he needed. It was time to get the Betrayer shining again. It was time to get back out there and off the slowest craft he had ever flown on, a rock named Naboo. The Foundation Thrion could handle.
He wasn’t going out to look for a fight, but if he found one, he wanted to be ready. Perhaps he’d just head to Etti IV for a trip down memory lane. Maybe he’d see this Kessel Run people were always bragging about. Maybe he’d just do some barrel rolls. There was only one way to find out.
The insides of the Lambda shuttle were unchanged, except for a slight layer of dust. It had been a home away from a home he had long forgotten. It had been… Decades? Maybe more since he last set foot on his native soil, but the shuttle was more home than it ever really way. Time and distance had made it doubly so.
He peaked into one of the few room crammed into its hold to offer passengers some privacy, or, in this case, secure his things Rooms. They were more like closets with an optional bunk. A plus sign formed was formed by the linking corridor with a small seating/staging area at its heart. This shuttle wasn’t a troop transport. It never was going to be. Zechs didn’t need one, but it had moves in the right hands.
He went up to it armory and put his hand on the biometric lock and entered the 4 digit secondary verification code. It actually creaked open. Zechs cringed.
The racks were bare. Zechs remembered when a set of Dark Trooper Armor took up the corner. He wasn’t even sure if he had ever had it fitted to him. Those Imperial days were so long ago. Not even a private stash of finer fluids remained. It was in that barren waste Zechs came to a decision.
Retirement wasn’t for him. Being a “YT guy” wasn’t him. Oh, it had its uses, but this was who he was. The Lambda shuttle was personal travel perfected with refinements and a simple elegance. That didn't exactly match him, but well, that was kind of the point in its own way. It didn't matter. The fact was he had a shuttle that had been neglected. A neglection that needed fixing and now.
He turned to head back to the house. Tools. Gear. Supplies. A nice summer salad with one of those fruity drinks Thrion rambled on about. These were the things he needed. It was time to get the Betrayer shining again. It was time to get back out there and off the slowest craft he had ever flown on, a rock named Naboo. The Foundation Thrion could handle.
He wasn’t going out to look for a fight, but if he found one, he wanted to be ready. Perhaps he’d just head to Etti IV for a trip down memory lane. Maybe he’d see this Kessel Run people were always bragging about. Maybe he’d just do some barrel rolls. There was only one way to find out.
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Zechs Merquise
- Full Member
- Posts: 580
- Joined: Thu Sep 14, 2017 1:07 pm
- Location: Greater New Orleans Area
Re: You Either Die on Coruscant or You Retire on Naboo (Cont)
Zechs wandered by the business side of the ranch. He hadn’t much. The pond wasn’t really his thing. Swimming was ok. He had some sea legs. It was just the foul he ranched tended to… Well, he wasn’t sure how to put it. Ducks be ducking. And boy, did they duck a lot.
There were ducks in the pond. There were ducks in the field around the pond. There were ducks in the duck houses. There was a probably ducks in the fruit bearing trees lining the pathways around the pond.
Duck farming, if it was called that, wasn’t easy. It was a messy business with ample noise to break the dawn, the dusk, and most hours between. It was why he wasn’t upset to be getting off world for a while. Naboo’s native creatures were wondrous, but he needed some him time.
There were ducks in the pond. There were ducks in the field around the pond. There were ducks in the duck houses. There was a probably ducks in the fruit bearing trees lining the pathways around the pond.
Duck farming, if it was called that, wasn’t easy. It was a messy business with ample noise to break the dawn, the dusk, and most hours between. It was why he wasn’t upset to be getting off world for a while. Naboo’s native creatures were wondrous, but he needed some him time.