[center][b]Prologue[/b][/center] [center] Many years into the distant future...[/center] [center][b]Year --- ABY - Outer Rim Space Port in Alliance Territory[/b] [img]http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2013/305/0/1/__bar___by_solarsouth-d6slxd2.jpg[/img][/center] Four Alliance graduates make their presence known at the local cantina. The music is lively, and spirits are at an all time high. "Congratulations nerfs! We're full-fledged officers now! The real deal!" One of them exclaimed. They laugh and whistle, clinking their glasses together for a celebratory toast. Rodian Ale is gulped down - some, more faster than others - and empty cups are slammed onto the table. A choir of burps and satisfied gasps send the four in a mad chuckle. Another round is ordered. After awkward dance moves are shared, and the bar patrons sound off their rejections for coitus, the group congregates over to a less noisy area - invading a booth at another section of the cantina, pitcher of Ale in hand. The alliance privates start to reminisce about the academy days, thinking on the future and what they hope to make of it. "I just hope they station me near Dac," Acjkens said, sipping his cup. He smiled with hope. "I gotta check out the Amiral Ornu commemoration museum. Professor Ujak said you could see his giant automaton statue from orbit! Mon Cal sure know how to treat their legends." "Shoot, they better! The guy kept an entire Imperial fleet from bombing their planet, single-handedly. It's the least they can do." The only girl of the group, Kestra, said. She sipped at her cup before continuing. "Personally, I'd rather get transferred to Ryloth. Who wouldn't want to see where Ivaadi Ziveri liberated her people from slavery? Talk about grandiose!" "No kidding," Tristan, the lankiest of them all, chimed in. "Not only did she abolish slavery, but she rallied every blasted Twi'lek on the planet against the Imperials. Most of them weren't even armed." They all nodded. Tristan jabbed his thumb at his own chest. "Me?...it's all about Coruscant, baby. Give me guard duty at the Fleet Museum where they keep The Viper and I'm good." "Filswik, Tristy!" The last one to speak was a Zeltron named, Sorbo. He grinned from ear-to-ear."You land that gig, you better let me know. I'll never get tired of hearing about his course maneuver that sucked a blarking Star Destroyer into a black hole." They hollered in agreement. Sorbo shook his head. "All I want in life is to be transferred onto the Krael Frigate, the very same one the twin commanders were stationed on. I mean, come on! Their blarging fleet alone retook an entire star system occupied by Impe-" Without warning, an old man slams his fist onto the table - toppling cups and spilling Rodian Ale everywhere. "Blathering little idiots!" His yellow eyes matched the color of his jagged teeth. The officers rose from their seats, fists clenched. He was dressed in tattered robes and smelled like the backside of a tonton. How did they not see - much less smell - him approaching? "You believe every lie they feed ya filthy mouths!?" "Relax old bones," Kestra sneered. "Go back to your medic droid and tell him to up the dosage." The group snickered - so did the old man. He actually thought that joke was funny. "Such denial. You're the saddest bunch of green horns I've ever seen!" The old man grinned, scowling at each of them. "You don't find it odd how these 'stories' never have a shred of proof to em? No physical evidence - no holo-recording,nothing? I bet you tried searching for a more comprehensive analysis on those idiots. I reckon nothing came up on the Alliance Archive, correct? I'd wager they only uploaded transcribed testimonials - all coming from officers redacted from the manifest database." The old man spit off to the side, failing to realize that he sullied his own boot. It was a bad habit. "How'd you-" Tristan was cut off by the Zeltron. "Give me a good reason why I shouldn't throw you out the damn airlock you old geezer," Sorbo snapped. "Who are you to talk down on heroes that actually made a difference in this galaxy? What have you done besides stink up the place?" "You will address me as Olkrait, private." Ackjen's eyes widened, but said nothing. A bipedal bar droid brought over another pitcher of ale. "Put it on my tab." Olkrait said. The four officers suddenly became less hostile. The droid set the pitcher down and noticed the mess the old man made. It proceeded to clean up as Olkrait went to grab an extra chair from a nearby booth. He sat down and motioned for the group to do the same, shooing the droid off. "I'll tell you all what really happened, and then we'll see if you still feel the same way about those [i]legendary[/i] bantha fodders! If you're not convinced by the time I finish, you're free to jettison me out into space!" "Of course. After you pay off the tab."Ackjens grinned, waving the droid back. "Bring two more pitchers!" Olkrait made no objections, sliding credits out from his sleeve and into the payment slot on the droid's backside. The four looked at each other, then nodded in agreement. "Free Ale with entertainment to match?" Kestra said, crossing her arms. "Okay loony, we'll play along." Olkrait's laugh sounded like a Tusken raider choking on sand. Specks of spit shot from his mouth and into the pitcher. He grabbed a turned over cup and poured. When he passed the pitcher, everyone declined. They'll wait for the droid to bring the next two. Okrait shrugged. "We'll start from the very beginning..." --- [center][b]Chapter One[/b] [b]160 ABY [/b] [/center] The room was dark. [URL=http://www.IMGUR.COM/2p5aA53.jpg]GNK-27[/URL] couldn't remember how it got into this predicament; a restraining bolt was preventing access to its own memory core, communication software included, so it couldn't send out a distress call either. It was also difficult to move. For some reason the hydraulic joint fluids of its two stumpy legs weren't circulating properly. At least its visual and audio sensors were working, but even then, it was hard to make anything out in here. Several photoreceptor lights and gadget bulbs flickered in what appeared to be a large enclosure. Synthesized "beeps!" and "boops!" could be heard, but even if one knew droidspeak, it was hard to understand anything over the loud steam engines that shook the room. But that didn't last long. After a couple of minutes went by, the transport vessel came to a grinding halt. The room stood still. Everything went silent. Then a stern yet lifeless voice called out from the darkness."Your service date is numbered, GNK-27!" The power droid straightened up at the sound of its own name. It wished it could respond, but the restrictors disabled its speech amplifier for droidspeak. All it could do was transfix its audio receptors and hone in on the direction the voice came from. "Termination awaits you, you dim-witted battery brain! Our battle is far from over! You will not deny me glorious combat!" Whoever it was, spoke in fluent basic. Was it a protocol droid then? GNK-27 tried to register the voice, but its internal systems denied it yet again. [i]Well, despite the hostility, at least someone knows who I am.[/i] Even in a situation of uncertainty, where threats were being hurdled from places unseen, the power droid wasn't afraid. It couldn't tell if that was due to the restraining bolt, or if it simply wasn't part of its programming to express something like fear. Whatever the case, GNK-27 calculated that it'd find out soon enough.