Episode 6: Search for the Jedi

PLAYER CHARACTERS (and what we know about them so far).

Asti : Woman with good knowledge of droids. Quiet, cool-headed and sensible.
Stoge : Brash Pilot. Loves wine, women, song, and blasting Imperial fighters to dust.
Straun Solarwind: Polearm-wielding farmboy. Searching for his father's fate.
Dar : Muscled black native. Prefers the ways of his people to technology. Uses an ornate sword with his great strength.
Karlos Trialeki : Eight-gun slinger. Deadly with firearms. Running from his past.
Surge : Knowledgeable man, good shot with a blaster.
Menarggrah : Strong, intelligent Wookiee.

Yabud : Curious Jawa.

Almost a kilometer in length, the Victory Class Star Destroyer Desecrator was an interstellar monolith that coasted between the systems as though searching for prey, its batteries of turbolasers, tube launchers and tractor beams silent but poised for action. Within the ship, the seven thousand two hundred and forty personnel operated as one under the calculating commands of their two masters.
The Imperial Officer on the bridge gazed unseeing at the galaxy before him, lost in thought. His musing was confident, even jubilant, as he meditated on the past, his glorious career, and the future, to a forthcoming promotion.
"You have good reason to feel this way, my friend," grated the gravelly voice of the hooded man in dark grey robes beside him. "We will fulfill the Emperor's task assigned to us by Lord Vader. I have forseen it."
A junior officer approached the two and saluted crisply.
"Report," said the Captain, without turning around.
"Sir, all units are primed and have co-ordinates keyed in."
As the junior officer left hurriedly, the two resumed gazing over the bulk of the giant ship, watching the probe droids flash from underneath the ship and disappear into space. The robed man's voice resumed with conclusion.
"We will find that droid."


Elsewhere, aboard the Alliance Frigate Usurper, briefing room DB3, Fraggine was short and to the point.
"The encrypted datastick you retrieved from Gaarla has been decoded and found to be a message from the Emperor himself detailing the search for a particular droid, or more precisely some information that droid has. Now, this droid is an infiltration/intelligence unit DP4, older than most of you," -he nodded meaningfully in Menarggrah's direction- "and it was assigned to a specific base in the final years of the Old Republic. The reason for the search is that the location of this admin base was lost during the Republic's collapse and nobody knows for sure where it is. It was numbered as base 1138. "I've assigned one of our droid specialists to work with you, a tech by the name of YaBud, you'll find him in the docking bay. Normally Petty Officer Asti's knowledge of droids would be more than adequate, but this is a very old droid and conventional programming/repair techniques may not be adequate should repair be needed. For the same reason, you have also been assigned the use of a power droid.
"Your mission is a roving one with a good deal of freedom- chase rumours, follow hunches, ask around, and try to find that droid before the Empire does! May the Force be with you."
The group dispersed- Menarggrah to finish repairing the damaged Slave II, Asti to the workout room to work on building up her strength, Karlos to the firing range (as always), Stoge to the rec room, Dar to his quarters, and Surge to parts unknown. Straun moved to follow Menarggrah until Fraggine called him back.
"It's no accident that your group was chosen for this mission,
Solarwind. I know what you're looking for, and I also know someone else that was assigned to the Old Republic base- a Miguel Solarwind. So good luck- and keep your secrets safe."
Straun left to fix the ship with new motivation- the sooner the Slave II was fixed, the sooner they left.

Menarggrah stepped back to admire his handiwork and grunted with content. Though they had not been able to acquire another sensor ring to replace the one torn from the Slave II in the Fo system, the parabolic dish that now jutted from the front of the ship certainly looked as if it would be a competent replacement.
Stoge and Karlos passed the ship without slowing down, ducked under a power feed cable and continued to where a tech knelt on the deck of the Usurper's docking bay, adjusting an X-Wing's landing gear with some hydro-spanners. At Karlos' enquiry, the tech looked up and shouted "YABUD!"
There was a clanking and muttering from the far wing, and in moments the hooded, luminous eyes of a Jawa peered over the cockpit as he answered "Adbubddabul?"
"THIS is our droid specialst?" Karlos raised an eyebrow doubtfully.
"I guess," answered Stoge, "that if anyone knew anything about OLD droids, it'd be a desert scavenger from the backwaters."
Yabud joined them cheerfully, and they went back to where Menarggrah and Straun were running systems diagnostics on the Slave II's new energy shielding, bought by Straun at great expense. Yabud wandered through the ship curiously, then shook his head with a critical "Blaadubdaba."
"HE thinks it's a piece of junk?" Straun pondered.
"What a coincidence," replied Stoge. "So do I."
Menarggrah gave the thumbs-up for the diagnostic as Surge's voice was heard from outside the lock.
"Go on up."
"Gonk," replied the power droid, plodding slowly up the ramp and into the Slave II. He was followed by Surge, Dar and Asti carrying supplies for the journey. Stoge prepped the ship, Asti closed the lock, and Straun pointed to Yabud.
"Hey, can this guy fly?"
Yabud pointed to the pilot's chair and waved his arms around as he babbled something. Stoge received launch clearance, then they gave the Jawa the chair.
Yabud sat in the chair with a sense of excitement and surveyed the banks of controls before him. Grasping the control stick, he hit some switches.
The Slave II lurched forward, skimming momentarily over the deck before it knocked over an astromech droid with the landing gear and scraped the side of a small freighter before Stoge backhanded the Jawa and, wrestling the controls from him, brought the ship back down heavily.
"Who," Stoge wanted to know, "was the moron that let him at the controls?"
Yabud contentedly climbed out of the pilot's chair. A few minutes ago he hadn't known if he could fly, because he'd never tried.
A few minutes later, with some competant piloting, they were out of the Usurper's docking bay and into open space.
{Where to?} they interpreted Menarggrah's growling.
"I've heard of a good place to pick up rumours," Karlos offered. "The Dravian starport."
"Good choice," nodded Surge. "An independant, isolated space station where rogues, smugglers and the like do business."
They worked on the astrogation for a few minutes.
<ping!> went the nav computer.
Stoge wrenched the hyperspace lever, and perceptions of distance disappeared.


The station's size belied it's purpose. Havens for criminal activity, by and large, were small, covert affairs. The sheer bulk of the Dravian Starport was comparable to a Victory Class Star Destroyer. Boarding tubes jutted from the elliptical mass like tentacles reaching for the smaller ships that swarmed around it. The station, even from the outside, seemed rundown, judging from the glimpse of detail that the exterior spotlights showed to the passengers on the Slave II as it made its wary approach.
"Lotta traffic," Stoge reported, operating the sensors. "There're some souped-up, heavily armed, jury-rigged rustbuckets around here."
"The Dravian Starport," Surge said dramatically. "You will never find a more wretched hive of-"
"Yeah, yeah," Stoge cut him off. "Let's just go there, okay?"
After stating their business (trading, they said) they were given approach co-ordinates and eased up to a boarding tube, docking with a clang.
"You'd better stay here," Asti told the power droid.
"Gonk," it replied sadly.
When the airlock slid open, a sense of decay washed over them. It was not merely the smell, though that helped, nor was it the dingy appearence of the corridors (missing panels, loose wiring, and rubbish on the floor), which Yabud praised as he felt at home. Somehow the place projected that it harboured greed and vice in all its most horrendous manifestations.
A flickering holomap inside the boarding tube gave them a rundown of the unrestricted levels of the starport, and they took a turbolift to one of the shopping levels. A thin corridor opened to a large mall in which all manner of goods were sold to the milling crowd of all types of beings.
Holonovels, clothing, slaves, cargos, equipment. With luck, thought Karlos, information was for sale as well.
The Rebels wandered through the mall and looked in various shops. Yabud proved his worth by being able to distinguish between items of value and bits of junk, and stopped Surge from buying a fake lightsaber. Asti purchased a blast vest that fit her perfectly. Menarggrah bought a computer tool kit and some quarrels for a bowcaster (though he didn't have one). Yabud was fascinated by a glowrod, and was persuaded not to steal it by the vibroaxe-wielding Gamorreans at the shop door, so he bought it instead. Dar bought nothing, he didn't share the others' need for material possessions.

The party was almost shopped out when they went into an antique weapons store. Yabud bought a small hand crossbow and some quarrels, and Karlos purchased something in a black box which he secreted about his person.
{By the way} Menarggrah slipped a ten cred disc to the old man behind the counter. {Do you know much about the Old Republic?}
"Ah, yes," the old man seemed to drift off, glassy-eyed, into another time. "When every system in the galaxy was represented in the senate and protected by the Jedi." He glanced around nervously, fearfully, then added "Those were better times."
{What about Old Republic bases?} Menarggrah queried subtley.
"Sure, I know of one," the man said. "It's on Coruscant." He broke into chuckles, and the Wookiee scowled.
Straun suddenly noticed that many people were coming in from the street, and glancing outside he noted that the crowd seemed to be scattering from a particular part of the mall. He mentioned this to Menarggrah, who visually scanned the scene but couldn't see anything. A name rippled through the crowd, but none of the group heard what it was.
The Wookiee picked up Yabud, who could then see over the fleeing crowd, and they noticed that everyone was running from a particular figure, but it was still too far away to identify. After some waiting Straun peered out over the crowd, and with a spine-tingling shock recognised the figure from legend.
It was Boba Fett himself.
The deadliest bounty hunter in the galaxy was simply striding through the mall on business known only to himself. This business was strongly suspected by the Rebels to directly concern them.
"He must be after the Slave II!" gasped Straun. "It IS his ship after all!" The group hid inside the shop and feared for their lives.
All but one.
The mall by now was deserted, all the sentients cowering inside shops and stalls, and so all could see the small figure of Yabud running after Fett, waving his hand and babbling.
Fett didn't turn around, break stride or give any indication that he knew the Jawa was there.
Yabud, running as fast as his short legs could carry him, gaining on the casually-walking bounty hunter.
Fett didn't turn around, break stride or give any indication that he knew the Jawa was there.
As Yabud drew closer, he noticed a small flap on the back of Fett's armour open with a <snik>. Yabud looked at it curiously. A rear-facing camera? he waved again.
With a blast that echoed in the fearful stillness of the mall, a searing belch of flame roared from the back of Fett's armour and engulfed the Jawa. Yabud screamed and ran in small random patterns in the middle of the mall, a living torch. He eventually fell over and rolled to put out the flames, hearing the hissing of his burning flesh, and painfully watched Fett
recede into the distance.
Throughout the whole incident, Fett had not turned around or even broken stride. Those present in the mall that crept cautiously back into the street knew that Yabud only lived at Fett's whim.


Menarggrah picked up Yabud, almost gagging at the terrible smell of burnt Jawa. Though awfully wounded, his condition was not serious and soon he was able to walk unaided. His robe, however, had not fared well and was little more than a charred rag, so Menarggrah kindly lent him the money to buy a makeshift new one from one of the stalls lining the marketplace.
The next course of action was provided by Stoge, who vanished into the starport's main cantina, followed by Asti, Yabud and Straun, as the rest of the group resumed shopping.
There were many tables, a medium-sized crowd, and a small dance floor on the opposite side to the door. The band was a disgusting group of three Iii'i who made music by throwing themselves to the floor and causing air to squelch out of carefully-contracted glands in various pitches.
Asti carefully surveyed the crowd, looking for possible informers, and her eyes fell on two humans seated near the dance floor. One was obviously a pilot, as evidenced by his flying helmet and goggles, leather jacket and baggy pants. Beside him was what appeared to be some kind of custom personal vehicle, a half-circle hoverboard of some kind. The other man's line of work was just as easy to identify, the grubby overalls and grease smears being almost the formal uniform of a tech. He was muttering to the pilot, and Asti overheard "I am going to kill him, no matter what you guys think. Next time I see him he will be dead." Asti approached them cautiously, and was considering various methods of introduction when her problem was solved as the technician spoke.
"Have a seat, babe. Can I buy you a drink? Ship? System?" Of the three main accents used by humans, he had the most common. Asti spoke the least known, as did Stoge, Surge, Karlos, Straun and Dar. The two introduced themselves as Martin Wixted (the technician) and Andrew Salor (the pilot).
Asti sat politely and turned to introduce the others, but only Straun was there. Looking around the room warily, she noted that Yabud was talking to another Jawa, and Stoge, true to form, was approaching the bar.
Stoge thought he'd try something new. The cantina was very large and stocked many types of beverages for a huge number of types of digestion, so Stoge thought he'd walk up to the barman, rattle off whatever syllables came into his head and see what he got. He said loudly:
"Gimme a Centukki burbinn w'iski."
The bartender's eyes widened.
"Not.. not a Centukki burbinn w'iski?" he said fearfully.
"You heard me," Stoge leaned casually on the bar.
The bartender produced a tall container and sat it tensely on the bar, and Stoge noted uneasily that it was made of transparisteel. He then pulled on a pair of thick rubber gloves and snapped them as he put them on. Picking up two black bottles, he poured them both into the container and they frothed wildly, releasing strange fumes into the air. The bartender then donned a heavy blast helmet and dialled the combination of a small safe behind him, reached in with a long pair of tongs and drew out a grey rock shaped like a sausage which he sploshed into the mixture. It bubbled and started to dissolve.
"Fifty creds," he said in a muffled voice.
A bewildered Stoge paid the bartender, who took off the gloves and mask and put them safely away with the tongs. The pilot looked at the drink doubtfully. It was now frothy and an unhealthy green colour.
He was suddenly aware of a large human standing next to him. The figure was dressed all in black, featuring a large black hat, heavy blaster and perpetual scowl. His stubble-covered chin shifted as he spoke to the bartender.
"A Centukki burbinn w'iski."
The bartender sighed, and drew on the gloves with a snap.
When the drink was poured, the big man in black glanced to Stoge and said, "Here's to yer health". He tilted his head back, downed the drink, and sat it on the bar with a sigh.
Then he hit the floor as if a planet had fallen on his head.
Two more humans approached the prone figure. One opened one of his eyelids and studied the glazed eye thoughtfully, then said, "That's the third time this week!" They slapped him on the face and dragged him away.
Stoge looked at his drink. He sipped it carefully and it made his head swim. As he made his way slowly back to Asti and Straun, he curiously took out the rock and put it in his pocket. When he realised it was giving his pocket a decent coating of slime he put it back in the drink. At the table ahead Andy, the pilot, seemed to be answering a question of Asti's.
"..I dunno, babe, Old Rep places are like, old, but if you wanna know ANYTHING, you should ask The Know."
"The Know?" Asti repeated, puzzled.
"At the north axis of the only planet in the Drabbilt system,"
explained Martin, "is a city that is a massive database containing information on just about everything, connected to a being called The Know. His prices are exhorbitant, but you can reduce the price by feeding the database with information- almost anything will do, but don't try to lie. The price is reduced by what they judge the value of your information to be."
"SLAM!" said a voice.
"Huh?" said Straun.
"SLAM!" the voice came again, and this time they noticed that it came from a burly human in the corner, pointing at Stoge and his intimidating drink.
"SLAM!" shouted someone else.
"Hruk hrunk hrunk," chortled a Gammorean.
"SLAM! SLAM! SLAM!" the cry went up, and Stoge couldn't resist the call. He stood up on a table with the whole cantina watching him.
Stoge tilted his head back and slammed the Centukki burbinn w'iski down his throat. With a mighty feat of digestive strength, he held it.
"YES!" he shouted triumphantly, and fell off the table to thunderous applause.
Once he was back on his feet, he found that he could walk, albeit somewhat shakily. Inspired, a human and a Mon Calamari approached the bar and the snapping of rubber golves was heard with a sigh.
The two sentients downed their Centukki burbinn w'iskies. The human had only gulped half when he vomited it back up again in a spectacular spray that produced hoots of laughter. The Mon Cal tilted his head back as he drank and kept on tilting, toppling over and hitting his head on the bar with a solid <kunk> that knocked him out cold.
"Not bad, eh?" Stoge mentioned to Andy.
The other pilot shrugged. "It was okay."
"OKAY??" Stoge motioned toward the bar. "Let's see you have a go, bucko."
"Goody!" Andy rubbed his hands together. "Let me try!"
Andy was looking somewhat more apprehensive when he returned with another of the drinks. He braced himself, gave a nervous look, then downed the drink quickly. They waited tensely for a few seconds, then smiled.
"All right!" They both slumped into their chairs tentatively and began to exchange stories of piloting heroism.

[By the way, where'd you get the daggy threads?]
[Fett didn't give me much choice] said Yabud woefully.
The Jawa was having an interesting time. The other Jawa he'd met was every bit as curious to see the stars as he was, and they swapped experiences with vigour. The other Jawa's home-made blaster was of a better quality than Yabud's (the other Jawa scavenged parts from the starport's garbage), so Yabud swapped for his blaster and the newly-purchased glowrod. The Jawa told him many details about the running of the station, including how it was independant but well protected from outside forces, and the rumour of how it was run by a Hutt. Yabud told him proudly how he was looking at the only Jawa to cross Fett and live. They were momentarily distracted by Stoge's drinking display, then resumed babbling to each other.

"..and our ship, the Fubar, was consequently destroyed by the Ice Man, one of the worse bounty hunters in the galaxy. But let's talk about you."
Asti politely steered the conversation away from herself again and suddenly noticed that the two pilots were no longer at the table. Over at the dance floor Andy, in his intoxicated state, was zooming around the floor on his hoverboard, performing flips and spins that had a jovial effect on the cantina's patrons. After being livened up by the Centukki burbinn w'iski episode, the cantina had attained a party atmosphere.
"Wow," Martin commented when Andy let Stoge try the board. "He NEVER lets anyone else on that thing!" Then again, he added to himself, he'd never slammed a Centukki burbinn w'iski before either.
Stoge, while not experienced with such a vehicle, nevertheless had great talent for the use of most mechanical contraptions, and had a great time speeding around the floor, performing some simple stunts that tested the limits not only of his mechanical ability but his suffering stomach also. They both felt they needed to sit down for a while by the time the rest of the group appeared, Menarggrah carrying a newly purchased fusion welder.
After hurriedly collecting the group they thanked Martin and Andy for the information about the Know (Martin sincerely hoped he'd see Asti again), and went back out into the crowded mall.
The group decided to return to the Slave II, and had taken only a few steps when they heard a voice:
"So, Trialeki, we meet again. But this time I am ready."
Karlos whirled. Through the crowd, less than twenty meters away, stood the academic-turned-bounty-hunter, Bobb 'The Feet'. He seemed to have learned from their encounter on Perodeen, as this time he had not only remembered his spectacles but also had his stun blaster strapped to the left hip of his purple battle armour.
Bobb went for the draw, reaching down at his RIGHT hip. Discovering that his blaster was not there, he turned and ran, white beard trailing behind him. Karlos gave chase but soon lost him in the crowd.
"Rah budbaddubadubb," Yabud shook his head.
"Three men in a tub," retorted Karlos.
They continued into the corridors toward their ship. Nobody noticed the lithe figure that detatched itself from the shadows and followed.

They filed back into their ship, stowing their newly-purchased items. Stoge moved forward into the cockpit and started astrogating their course for the Drabbilt system. Karlos took off his hat and an arm circled his throat.
"Hands away from the blasters. Trialeki comes with me."
The bounty hunter was a human woman dressed in a black, skin-tight outfit. She ground the blaster barrel more firmly into Karlos' skull and spoke again, nodding toward Stoge.
"I'm not after him, I just want Trialeki's bounty. Let's do this nice and easy and I don't need to take out any more of you." This produced great confusion among the Rebels, especially Stoge.
Karlos, meanwhile, had kept his head. Winking to his friends to get ready, he shifted his feet and, without warning, violently stabbed his right boot's electrospur into the bounty hunter's leg, twisting his head to one side as he did so. The bounty hunter went rigid as the electricity discharged into her, and she fired a reflexive blaster shot that narrowly missed Karlos' head.
Immediately everyone drew their blasters. Surge and Menarggrah spent an extra second or two setting their weapons to stun, others were more concerned with saving Karlos. The bounty hunter was hit several times before Karlos had stepped back and he finished her off with a shot at almost point-blank range.
Stoge went back into the cockpit. Asti closed the lock and followed him, and they eased the Slave II away from the Dravian Starport. The others searched the body, finding a few credits, the blaster, and a datapad.
"YES!" said Straun. "Now we can find out Karlos' crimes, bounty and what she indicated Stoge for." Yabud inspected the datapad.
"RRaggh," said Meanarggrah, grabbing for it.
"Dubbaba," said Yabud.
{Mine} said Meanrggrah.
[Mine] said Yabud.
Something beeped on the datapad as struggling fingers hit buttons and failed to key in the security code. Menarggrah, Straun and Surge looked at each other wide-eyed.
The security charge exploded with a concussive blast amidst the rebels. Yabud and Surge fell to the floor unconscious with terrible wounds, Straun was also wounded and Menarggrah staggered backward, a smoking bald spot on his chest.

The datapad's security charge had inflicted terrible damage to the party, and this was compounded by the fact that it had incapacitated the one man among them that had the skill to safely heal them all; Surge. Dar opened some medpacks, and while his knowledge of first aid was nowhere near as good as Surge's, it was sufficient to at least stabilise the wounded. Stoge turned back to the starport, and they were forced to pay for the services of the medical facilities there to buy Surge some time in the bacta tank. Once he had been healed he could see to the injuries of the others, and soon the Slave II was leaving the starport again, its passengers somewhat wiser.
<ping!> went the nav computer, and they were gone.

Their hyperspace journey ended in the Drabbilt system, and the group was concerned at the asteroid field between them and their destination planet until Stoge calmed them down.
"Relax," he said, reading the charts. "It's what's classed as a dead field, not much motion. Shouldn't be too hard to get through."
They were all more relaxed until Menarggrah found something moving on the sensors.
"Looks like a small ship, headed this way," Straun informed.
They tried the comm and got no response.
{Strrangely..moving} Menarggrah puzzled.
"That's no ship!" Asti realised with shock. "It's some kind of creature!"
As space slugs went, it was slightly less than average size, but this still meant it was almost one-and-a-half times the length of the Slave II. Impossibly, it swam through space toward them with great rythmic sweeps of its tail, the great head darting to either side with the wriggling motion.
"Hold tight!" Stoge shouted, swinging the ship suddenly. The group had a momentary view of the creature's pitted bulk lunging past the cockpit window.
{Coming around again} Menarggrah told them, eyeing the sensors.
Stoge swung the Slave II again and effectively dodged the huge creature. Straun cursed the fact that his ship lacked armament, and considered installing a small blaster cannon turret if/when they got back to the Usurper.
The space slug was large and dangerous but stupid. When it swept past the ship it turned the wrong way for another pass, and the Slave II gained a significant gap that lasted long enough to get them through the asteroid field, past which the creature would not follow.

The north polar axis of Drabbilt was blanketed by a violent blizzard when they arrived, and Stoge was forced to perform a bumpy landing purely on instruments and the staticky guidance of an unseen starport controller. They sat in the ship and waited it out, The Agostians observing the whiteout with some curiosity. Asti pointed out that nobody had the clothes for this sort of temperature (Menarggrah excluded, of course), but they decided to wait and see.
When the blizzard eventually abated some time later, Surge opened the hatch and they were greeted by a dazzling, featureless landscape that made all but Yabud squint. In front of the Slave II was a stock light freighter of some kind that was heavily covered with snow. The metallic cylinder of a control tower thrust from the snow over to the right. The city that they had
been told about was nowhere to be seen.
Shivering at the cold (especially Dar), they crunched through the snow toward the control building. Dar stopped when a snowball hit him in the face, and he turned to see Karlos scooping up some more snow. In moments a snowball fight had ensued in the middle of the snow-covered starport. Asti, Stoge and Surge simply watched as the rest pelted each other with vigour, Dar soon becoming the one to watch as he mastered the unfamiliar activity through sheer dexterity.
It was a light-hearted moment that relieved the tension for all of them, for a moment forgetting the Empire and its oppression. For now there were simply friends. Asti savoured the moment well, she knew it wouldn't last.
This opinion was also held by the huge creature that lunged from the snow nearby with a fearsome roar and moved toward them, teeth and claws bared. It seemed to come from the snow itself, covered with white, shaggy fur, and towered over even Menarggrah.
The group was caught totally unawares. Yabud was hiding behind a small mound of snow and didn't see the thing appear; Asti, Stoge and Surge were in the middle of an animated conversation, even the quickdraw hands of Karlos Trialeki were full of snow.
When the creature saw the Wookiee it screamed a challenge and waded through the snow toward him with powerful strides. Menarggrah moved toward it carefully, noticing for the first time that Dar was between them. The burly warrior tossed his snowball at it and drew his sword as the thing bore down upon him. He slashed at it carefully and wounded it, then stepped to one side to avoid a powerful claw-tipped swing.
Then something struck it with an explosive detonation, and with the creature's putrid breath in his face, Dar gave a strong thrust to the chest and the thing fell, staining the snow a vivid red. All eyes turned to see the smoking gun of Karlos Trialeki, and they then knew what was in the box that he had purchased at the Dravian Starport.
The others arrived as Menarggrah checked that it was dead, respectfully eyeing the gaping hole left by the explosive bullet.
"Let's get inside the control building," said Stoge, blaster drawn and scanning the snow. "There may be more of them." Chattering teeth murmered agreement.
"I'll stay here awhile," Dar stated, kneeling and drawing a small skinning knife. "This is an excellent pelt."

Soon they were all basking in the warmth of the building, drinking hot cogobroth and enjoying the hospitality of the lone traffic controller. He told them that the city was some ten kilometers up the mountain, a journey that would take them the best part of the day on foot. They rented some cold-weather garments from his stores (prepared for just such an occasion) and they set out.
It was slow going, trudging uphill through the swirling snow and feeling the biting cold slowly creeping in. At least the path was relatively easy to follow, and they had covered almost half the distance to the unseen city before Asti heard the faint, reglar crunches of something big running toward them.
They all scattered and took cover except for Straun and Stoge, who stood boldly in the road and waited. The crunching came closer, and through the drifting whiteness an unusual creature appeared, a beast of burden that had obviously been chosen for use in cold regions. The tauntaun's rider reigned it to a halt in front of Straun and gave him a cheerful greeting.
"Greetings," Straun returned. "Is this the way to the city?"
"Yup," the rider confirmed, giving a strange look to YahBud's attempt to hide from him."Goin' to see The Know, eh? You must have a casket of creds or two."
"Er," said Stoge. "How much does it cost?"
"Ten thousand, for a consultation of up to ten sentients."
"TEN THOUSAND!" Straun gasped, crestfallen. The whole group together would be lucky to scrape up two.
"But you can reduce that by supplying the database. If you give some juicy bits of info it can take the price right down. Don't try to lie, though" the man shuddered.
"I won't," said Straun. "Thanks."
The man nodded and set off again. In seconds he had become one with the whirling whiteness.

When the city finally came into view it was a spectacular sight. Tall towers reached upward as if in worship to the great central complex that was at the apex of the mountain. The structures were devoid of snow, seemingly caused by an invisible energy field of some kind.
The tired travellers entered the city through large gates, inside which was an old holo showing a plan of the city. Various sectors resided on the giant database, including slums and a prestigious academic sector. They started for the central control building, passing through old, littered streets.
"Mercy!" cried a beggar by the side of the street. "Have mercy on a poor, luckless being such as I. Can you wealthy ones spare anything?"
"We'll have enough trouble getting answers from The Know with the pitiful amount of cash we have," Karlos told Asti irritably.
"Here ya go, old timer," Stoge gave him a ten-credit disc, and was thanked sincerely.
"Take this," said Dar, who gave him a further ten of the credits he valued so lowly.
"Hide it, old man," Karlos suggested, "or others in your..occupation might value it more than your life."
The confused beggar left hurriedly, thanking them as he went.
"That was very commendable," Asti told Dar and Stoge.
"Bugdububbla," Yabud agreed.
"Hey!" said Stoge. "Where's my blaster?"
Everybody looked at each other in realisation.
"The beggar lifted it," said Surge.
"Let's get the bastard," growled Stoge.
Stoge, Dar, Straun and Menarggrah ran down the alley where the beggar had fled, leaving the others waiting in the street. Though the beggar was not to be seen, Dar soon picked up his trail and they gave chase. They ran further into the slum areas, some because of wounded pride, some simply following their friends. They lost the trail momentarily, but Straun spotted the fleeing beggar disappearing into an alleyway. When they reached it they found it was a dead end and the beggar was desperately climbing a drainpipe.
"Stop!" cried Straun. "We won't hurt you!"
Stoge grumbled something that nobody heard, and started up the drainpipe after him as Dar heard footsteps approaching from outside the alley.
A group of four street thugs appeared, appraised the situation and prepared to defend their neighbor. Drawing needlebeamers, they attacked.
Menarggrah ignored them, watching the strange race as Stoge clambered after the thief. Dar met the newcomers head-on, running at them and cutting one down with a vicious sword swing.
Straun stepped into the fray and slashed at one of the men with his Eguale prod. The thug stepped back out of the arc of the whistling weapon and shot Straun point-blank with the needlebeamer in the torso. Straun went down, screaming briefly before lapsing into unconsciousness.
Stoge was gaining on the beggar, who had reached the top of the drainpipe and, hanging from the gutter, struggled to shoot him with the stolen blaster.
Menarggrah realised that if the beggar reached the rooftops his chances of escape were better. Raising his blaster rifle, he fired a warning shot that hit the rooftop guttering. The gutter peeled away from the roof with little resistance, swinging the wailing beggar back into the wall at the end of the alley. He hit with a solid crack and fell ten meters onto the stone on his neck, crumpled like a rag doll, the blaster clattering beside him.
Stoge scrambled back down to the street in moments, retrieving his blaster as Menarggrah joined the fight against the street thugs. With the tide of battle so rapidly turned the latter group was decimated and one survivor fled. Picking up Straun, they carried him back to the healing hands of Surge.

A further hour's journey took them further into the city and finished at the magnificent, towering palace on the peak. Once inside the main doors they were greeted by an ominous, jet-black protocol droid, who explained the pricing system. They all opted to feed the database.
They were led into a large waiting room and, one by one, entered a small booth to tell of anything they knew about anything. Sitting in the room was a man who had just finished doing the same thing.
"First time, eh guys?" he noted their apprehension. "Don't try lying."
"Yes," said Asti. "We've heard that many times. Apart from the obvious ethical reasons, why not?"
"Because," said the man "If you do you're sent into the entertainment pits. Dunno how they know, they just DO."
One by one, they fed the database. Straun told it of life on an Eguale farm. Karlos utilised his considerable street knowledge. Dar revealed much information of the way of his people. The others told their respective facts, and Surge was in there a long time.
None of them lied.
The protocol droid then took them to a room featuring many small lockers and a small door flanked by two vibroaxe-wielding Gammoreans. The droid cocked its head as if listening for a moment, then gave The Know's assessment of their information.
"The Allknowing Know has decreed that the information you have provided is sufficient to reduce the fee to only four thousand credits."
The Rebels glanced at each other uneasily.
"-but should this prove too expensive, The Know is interested in two objects in your collective possession of cultural and/or artistic significance, which (if given to the Allknowing Know) will reduce the fee to one thousand five hundred credits."
"This sounds better," said Stoge brightly.
The protocol droid pointed to Straun.
"The Eguale prod, used by Eguale farmers on Agost only, is a culturally significant item."
Straun looked sadly at the weapon that had served him so well. Still, he thought, he could get another one. If he dared to return to Agost.
One of the Gammoreans accepted the item, then the protocol droid pointed to Dar.
"Your sword has been crafted using ancient techniques by the Wilder people," he said "and is a culturally significant item."
Dar folded his arms across his massive chest. "I give my sword to no-one," he stated flatly.
"Birthday present from uncle Booga-booga, huh?" Stoge sympathised with sarcasm. "Look, your vibroblade is a better weapon, and if you don't give it over we ain't goin' in."
"My sword is my own," Dar declared, "and will remain so."


Cloaked in shadow, a remarkably human smile crossed The Know's alien features as he watched the scene through an optic bug. Long-nailed fingers clicked on a comlink.
"let them in," it said, "and prepare the entertainment pits."


"The Know has decreed," said the protocol droid, "that the one item will be sufficient." The Rebels breathed a sigh of relief. "Place your weapons in any locker you choose (and take the key) and step into the weapon-scanning booth. The other side door will open and you will be permitted to see The Know."
All of them complied, paying the collective fee and stowing their weapons, except Karlos, who refused to go in to see The Know, and Dar, who gave his weapons to Karlos and then stepped forward.
Surge was first to enter the weapon-scan booth. The door closed behind him, lights rose and fell around the walls...
...and the floor fell away beneath him.
Surge was sent tumbling down a smooth shaft, slipping and sliding helplessly and gaining speed. He did not know how long he was sent sliding down the tube, but he was conscious of passing several offshoots that had been closed up. The tube eventually dumped him in a room of utter blackness, and the door closed behind him with a <whssk>.
He sat there for a moment and collected himself, then began to feel around him cautiously. In moments he had located the walls on either side, which were reasonably close together, and the sealed tube through which he had arrived. Groping along the floor in the opposite direction to the tube, he was shocked to find that the floor ended in a drop of unknown distance.
Listening carefully, he could hear the lapping of water (or another liquid) far below.
Dimly, some lights came on, and he could see a door on the far side of a large room, the walls black and dirty. Between him and the door, apart from the drop, were two square pillars whose foundations were somewhere in the inky blackness below. Looking down, Surge could just see some water at the bottom of the fall, and thought he could make out something moving in it.
He looked up again, glancing over to the door. It was obvious that he was supposed to leap onto the pillars and then to the door on the far side.
And if he fell..
With a flash three constant beams of energy appeared in the gaps he had to jump, needle-thin and at waist height. Surge appraised the situation in general.
"You gotta be kidding!" he said to the empty room.
But there was no other course of action. Surge backed up carefully and, after much self-motivation, took a running jump.
His sense of triumph at missing the energy beam was offset by the action of also missing the pillar. Surge tumbled into space, feeling a sense of panic as he struck the water.
He broke the surface, spluttering and gasping, and began to tread water, glancing around fearfully. When nothing happened after a few moments, he began to swim around and investigate his surroundings.
After a few minutes he noted some type of trapeze over on the left side of the third pillar, at the limits of what he could reach from the water. Above and to the right of that was another trapeze, and another, the last being within swinging reach of the third pillar.
Surge lunged for the trapeze, his fingertips just managing to grasp it on the third try. He wearily hauled himself up onto it, cursing the insanity of the madman that would design such a place. After resting for a few minutes, he began to rock the trapeze back and forth, building up speed.
When he judged that the time was right, he launched himself into space again. With a jolt that made his arm-sockets ache, he was on the second trapeze. He kept up the momentum, swinging hard, and successfully made the jump to the third.
In front of him now was the third pillar, and if he could leap to that there was only the leap over the final energy beam to the door. He rested, casting his eyes again over the exhausting physical puzzle.
That's when he noticed that there was a set of rungs leading from the door down to the water.
Fuming that he hadn't seen it before, he decided to try for the third pillar anyway. He jumped, missed and fell to the water, landing hard.
In disgust he swam to the rungs, looked up at the door, and grasped the first rung.
Covered in water, he had no chance, and as the electricity surged through him, the darkness claimed him mercifully quickly.

When the door reopened, Dar stepped in with an indignant stride.
No matter who The Know happened to be, nobody would take from him the sword that was one of the few remaining links to his people. So thinking, he fell through the floor into the smooth tube. The black warrior was tumbled about helplessly, but once he realised this he ceased struggling and gathered his strength for whatever task awaited him.
The tube dumped him into a blackened room, which in moments was lit by a dim light. The room was elliptical, with a door on the far side. No switch was apparent on the door, but there was a small box with a button hanging on the belt of the burly Gammorean that approached him swinging a huge axe.
A panel slid open beside Dar. Nothing came out of it.

Watching the optic bug, The Know grinned again. If Dar had placed his weapons in a locker as ordered, his sword would have been delivered to him for the duel, but the muscled Agostian had opted to give his weapons to Karlos.
This, thought The Know, could be interesting...

Dar watched the Gammorean stride slowly in his direction and, unusually, felt a twinge of panic. The panel closed again and he inspected the sealed tube, then turned back to his powerful foe, appraising his opponent by instinct. The axe he carried didn't appear to be a vibroweapon, but that was little compensation for the fact that it was razor-sharp (though of poor quality) and wielded by muscle that was at least as strong as his own. He gulped.
But, he thought, if he was destined to fertilise the grass, he was at least going down fighting.
He sprang from the corner toward the Gammorean, fist pulled back.
The Gammorean swung the axe in a mighty sweep.
Dar's fist hit the Gammorean's jaw with a solid <Krak!>
The Gammorean crashed to the floor, out cold with a broken jaw.
Dar stood there for a few seconds, looking at the prone form of his burly opponent, then at his fist. He shook his head in wonder, and knew that luck was indeed with him this day.
Scooping up the axe and pressing the button, he opened the door and entered The Know's main audience chamber.

Far above him, Straun stepped into the scanning booth, waiting patiently as the scanner went over him, then gasping as the floor disappeared and he fell into a smooth shaft that slid him around at incredible speed. He was dumped into a small room, and before he could move some thin cables of some kind whipped around his body, pinning his arms to his sides. Ahead of him a short corridor ended in a door, the button covered. The tube behind him closed with a <whssk>.
A small panel extended horizontally beside him, forming a small table projecting from the wall. A tube came down from the ceiling, and there was a rumbling as something rattled down it and thumped onto the table. The tube withdrew.
It didn't take much to figure out what the object was. It was spherical, perhaps four times as big as Straun's fist, and projecting from the top was a hissing fuse that was burning and crackling, tantalisingly slowly.
Straun struggled with his bonds, fighting down a rising panic. The strands that held him were strong and seemed to cover him in all the right places, restricting even slight movement.
He bent over and studied the bomb carefully, then blew ineffectually at the fuse. Inspired by a sudden idea, he lunged forward with his head and put the fuse in his mouth, seeking to smother it's burning advance. A blazing pain erupted on his tongue and he drew his head back by reflex.
"Tho muth for thad idea," he spat to himself.
The fuse was getting shorter; time was running out. Straun bent over again and, with his head, batted the bomb from the table onto the floor. He struggled again, but it would have taken great powers of contortion to try and wriggle out of the cable. Fearfully, he hopped forward to the door.
The covered switch would have been a simple matter to open had he had his hands free, but now it was impossible. He turned again and looked at the fuse. It was depressingly short. The beast of panic within him was straining at its bonds as well.
He struggled some more, uselessly, trying to think of a way to escape the predicament. The fuse was almost gone. There seemed no way out.
Closing his eyes, Straun accepted his fate.
The stun charge went off with a blinding flash, and Straun Solarwind knew no more.

Far above him, Menarggrah stepped impatiently into the weapon-scanning booth. The scan went over him systematically and then he dropped into the delivery tube. Immediately the Wookiee tried to slow his descent by digging his climbing claws into the shiny walls of the tube, but only succeeded in producing an ear-piercing screech as the claws raked their way along the glassy surface.
He saw the sealed end of the tube rushing up at him, then the end of it <whssk>ed away and there was only a millisecond to observe the glistening of water before he splashed into the dark room.
Tentatively, Menarggrah stood up. The water was only waist-deep for a Wookiee, and when the dim lights came on he could easily see that he was in an elliptical room filled with the dirty liquid. On the other side of the room, just above the water line, was a door. For a second he thought he saw something big moving in the water, then it was gone.
Slowly, cautiously, Menarggrah started wading for the door.
Sludge fountained as a water serpent erupted from the water, as thick as the Wookiee's waist. They both drew back for a strike simultaneously, and both hit the other hard, the serpant's toothed jaws clamping on Menarggrah's shoulder as he slammed it back with a hairy fist. Menarggrah struck again but missed, the great worm wriggling away from his strike and then lunging in again. The Wookiee was bashed backward by the sheer energy of the attack, hit hard in the head, and saw stars as he dropped to one knee in the water.
The serpent relentlessly struck again, but this time the Wookiee was ready. He ducked the muscled strike and struck a blow of his own, a well-placed one that had all of his considerable weight behind it. He heard something crack in the serpant's neck.
Damaged, the worm went into an enraged frenzy, thrashing about in the water wildly. Menarggrah stepped back out of the range of its convulsions, judging its movements, then hit it again and finished the thing off.
He stood there for a while, breathing heavily, then waded for the door.

Far above him, Yabud stepped into the weapon-scanning booth. He followed the up-and-down movements of the scanning lights with a curious finger, and was about to comment profoundly when the floor vanished and his concepts of up, down and everywhere else became a little confused.
The Jawa slid down the tube, gaining speed and tumbling randomly.
He saw the closed end of the tube coming up at him frighteningly fast, and was just starting to become worried when the door disappeared and he was deposited in a dark room with an unceremonious thump.

In the darkness, the creature slept.

Yabud listened. He thought he could hear something breathing.
[HELLO?] he said. [Is anyone there?]
The breathing stopped abruptly, then resumed again, to be accompanied by a heavy skittering sound.
Dimly, some lights came on. He was in an elliptoid room, and at the far end was a door. Between them was a creature that seemed as though it couldn't make up it's mind whether to be an insect or mammal, it's huge, furry spiderlike body topped with a fanged carniverous head.
A panel slid open next to the Jawa. Out slid the hand crossbow he had bought at the Dravian Starport, and a single quarrel. Picking up the weapon, Yabud loaded it and looked at the creature again. It looked right back at him, but made no movement. The Jawa began to sidle along the opposite wall to it, making for the door.
He was slightly under halfway when the creature sprag, all of its legs splayed out in the leap, and fangs bared. Yabud twisted away from it, his small figure being no easy target as he desperately dodged the thing and spun around, now being on the door side to the creature.
[Gabaha, mabadaa] Yabud said dramatically, lifting the hand crossbow.
Pointing it at the creature, he fired.
The bolt <ptang!>ed harmlessly off the creature's back.
Yabud stuck the weapon in his belt ruefully, then ran for the door. The creature sat immobile, not moving again as Yabud thumbed the switch.
On the door, a timer delay started to tick.
Yabud looked around nervously, feeling very exposed and fighting down the urge to whistle. He studied the timer again but was not able to determine how long it was set for.
The creature crashed onto his back, and Yabud felt a moment of shock as its teeth sank into his shoulder. He struck out with his tiny fist, hitting it with a solid blow that knocked it away as the door opened behind him.
The Jawa threw himself through the door, shoulder bleeding profusely. The creature scuttled back, then threw itself toward him again as he hit the button on the far side of the door. It flew shut with automatic strength, severing one of the creature's legs in a spray of green blood. The Jawa picked up the severed appendage curiously, then when he saw that he had no place to carry it, tossed it aside and continued on into the audience chamber, clutching his shoulder.

Far above him, Stoge sidled casually into the weapon-scanning booth and, as he was systematically analysed by the scanner, adopted a casual stance that was abandoned when the floor fell away and he slid smoothly into the delivery tube. Twisting and turning during his rapid descent, he considered the situation.
"Strewth," he said.
He travelled for quite a while, past various offshoots, and had begun to hear the hum of heavy machinery when the end of the tube came rushing up at him and disappeared with a <whssk>. He flew into a well-lit room, sailed over the other side, crashed heavily into the wall and sailed back.
All the while, he did not sink to the floor.
A zero-G room, he thought, or at least micro-G. He did his best to orient himself.
He was in a roughly elliptical room, with clean, smooth walls. At the other end of the room was a door with no switch, which opened to reveal a burly man drifting into the room, wearing casual clothing and a mean grimace.
"Yo, what's the deal?" Stoge queried.
"The deal," he replied, "is that I whip your butt till you bleedin'." He raised his fists and pushed himself off the wall.
Stoge did likewise, initially adopting a vector that would take him out of the open door, but when the man produced a small box and pressed a button on it the door closed and the pilot was forced to consider another course of action. He decided on teaching the man a lesson (he hoped) and launched himself from the doorway.
They met in the center of the room, and grabbed each other roughly to stop sailing by. Before the man could react, Stoge threw a quick jab that caught the man in the chin. He was spun around with the force of the blow and kept on spinning, halting himself on the far wall and glaring angrily.
"Yeah!" Stoge exclaimed. "What a wussbag!"
The man snarled and launched himself from the wall. Stoge's guard was up but the man got in a fast right to the stomach. Stoge was flung back, the wind pushed out of his lungs as he hit the wall hard.
Stoge reassessed his opinion of his opponent.
The man didn't hesitate to press the attack. The act of reaching up and getting propulsion by a friction-hold on the ceiling told Stoge that the man was very experienced at fighting in zero-G.
But Stoge was a pilot, and no newcomer to such conditions either. Pushing himself slightly forward (and still gasping for breath) he landed a vicious haymaker that caught the man in the jaw again, and this time he was sent flying back into the far wall headfirst, from where he floated limp and unconscious.
Stoge had to do some careful manouvering to reach the button on the man's belt (involving throwing one of his shoes), then he drifted through the newly opened doorway, out of the zero-G field and toward some stairs leading up to The Know's audience room.

Far overhead, the floor of the scanning booth disappeared and Asti fell into the delivery tube. Sliding around the smooth walls at speed, she was eventually dumped unceremoniously into a dark room, the door <wssk>ing closed behind her.
Cautiously, she felt around her and strained her senses for a hint of her environment. She thought she saw a glint of metal. There was a swishing sound and something small landed in the darkness beside her.
The light came on slowly, as if it was scared to be there. Asti immediately noted that she was in an oval-shaped room, at the other end of which was a closed door with no sign of a switch. In front of it was a lithe, catlike man with a glittering duelling sword.
Asti looked down. Beside her was her force lash.
She picked up the weapon carefully, realization dawning of the task before her. She looked at the man, advancing confidently.
"We don't have to do this," Asti said, holding up a hand.
The man leered evilly.
"Don't see as you have much choice, darlin'," he resumed walking toward her.
"This is senseless," Asti pressed. "We have never met, much less done anything wrong to each other. Why do we have to fight?"
"Two reasons," said the man. "One, The Know pays hard creds for this."
He whipped he sword around easily.
"Two," he said, "I like cuttin' people."
As he advanced, Asti resigned herself to the combat and activated the force lash with a <kssshhh>. The man hesitated slightly at the glowing, humming cylinder of energy, then dropped into a ready stance.
Asti shifted her feet uneasily. The force lash was a difficult weapon to use, and she had never used it in anger since drawing it from the Sacred Bag of Treasure on Gaarla over a month ago. It was a Jedi's weapon, and she was no Jedi. Still, it was powerful. She tried to concentrate.
The man was a veteran swordfighter. He came in with a few cuts and thrusts that didn't hit Asti, but neither were they parried by her clumsily swinging energy weapon. She swung awkwardly, and the man sidestepped it easily. It took her mere seconds to realise that he was toying with her.
The only sword-wielder she had ever seen in action was Dar, and he used a totally different fighting style consisting of bashing through the enemy's defences. Her opponent was pure skill, the glittering blade a blur of movement as it whipped to and fro.
The man seemed to tire of the game. The duelling sword flashed in and cut deeply into her left shoulder, at the edge of her new blast vest. Pain lanced through Asti, and she could not stifle a scream of agony as the sword twisted before withdrawing.
The man cackled with glee, and so confident was he that he didn't notice the flashing orange weapon swinging around again for almost half a second. True to form, he still managed to bring the sword up to parry. There was time only for an instant of surprise as the force lash sheared effortlessly through the metal before it continued into the torso, cutting the man in two. The dueller, as the top portion of him hit the floor, lived long enough not only to see the interesting sight of his legs still standing with momentary balance, but to catch the gaze of Asti, and as all went dark he slipped into the endless regret in her eyes, knowing that she had been right after all.

Karlos leaned against the wall and wondered what was keeping them all. In a room below, one of The Know's hired gunfighters waited. He would be waiting a long time.


The room was large and hemispherical, one side of it taken up by a large raised dais, the other by many doors. As Asti entered the large room she noticed that the rest of the group were there also (except Karlos, of course). Menarggrah and Surge were wet, the Wookiee and the Jawa were wounded (besides herself), and Surge and Straun looked as if they had just woken up.
On top of the dias, beside the black protocol droid, sat The Know. He was a Twi'lek, garbed in finery and appraising them with an intelligent gaze. A cybernetic linkup took up most of the back of his head, implanted wires spiralling down the two tentacles.
[You tried to kill us!] Yabud waved a fist angrily.
"Let's TOAST this circuithead!" Stoge reached for his blaster.
"SILENCE!!" the protocol droid boomed in a different voice to what they'd heard it use before. Surge immediately guessed that the droid was linked to The Know (or at least his voice) by the cyberlink.
"You did not have full payment, so you entertained my upper servants and I. Your lives were never in danger and you will be healed before you leave. You have now paid in full and may query."
There was a short silence as this sank in.
{Well?} Menarggrah prompted them all.
"Er," said Surge "We're looking for a lost base from the Old Republic days, number 1138."
The Know was silent.
For a few minutes.
A few long minutes.
"You asleep up there?" Stoge addressed him loudly.
"The only reference I can find," said The Know, "is an unconfirmed rumour that such a settlment was located on the second planet of a remote system, Bindibar. The likelihood of this is low as several attempts to find this base on Bindibar II have failed."
"Great," said Straun, "all this for a rumour that's probably false."
"It's the best we've heard so far," Asti objected with a wince. "Now let's get to medical and get off this ice cube."

They trekked back down the mountain to the starport with mixed emotion. After spending some time de-icing the Slave II they returned the cold weather gear to the starport controller and blasted off, gladly clearing the gravity well of Drabbilt.
"Next time," said Karlos, "how about we just ask around?"
<ping!> went the nav computer.
Stoge wrenched the hyperspace lever, and the Drabbilt system was left behind with their trust of strangers.

Next Adventure