The second episode of the Tython Ties takes us to whole new universe. Although...new?
The proud family of Tython is still here. But they aren't doing well...
I took the comment people gave me on my fanfics and tried to use it for a change (Thanks!). I think this is the best (or least bad, depends on your opinion) fic I've written...it took me quit a while
Star Wars Tython Ties: Episode 2: Death pact
The clone troopers haven’t found their way in yet. Although I can feel the darkness is coming this way, we still have time to read another story…to understand why all of this is happening.
My end is near, but I’m not important. As long as this datapad survives, there is still hope for the future. The new Jedi order SHOULD NOT make the same mistakes the current order made.
But let’s get started. This new story takes place years after the last one. The Tython family name is strong in this era. A whole generation of Jedi who are to fight in the Jedi Civil War. Two ruthless Sith Lords attacked an unsuspecting Republic. But when the Sith Master fell, only one Sith needed to be eliminated for peace. Despite what history tells us about the redemption the fallen one, two plans were made. The second plan took a whole different turn…
“Why is it that I’m ALYWAYS the one who gets shot?”
Jormin was holding his side. He felt the warm blood stream over his hand. His left hand held a blaster of republic design. The grey metallic walls of Nar Shaddaa did not offer any refuge for a fleeing mercenary. Especially not for Jormin, who was being chased by hordes of Sith soldiers.
The sound of Jormin’s KT- 2B astromech droid trying to keep up was the only sound in the area.
He had equipped the droid with all sorts of refined equipment. It was practically a HK-24 protocol droid in disguise. After the Ascada fiasco years back, Hk-24 parts flooded the market of droid parts and Jormin took his chance.
The main reason for equipping the droid with all HK-parts was obvious: As a Republic mercenary, he was threatened more than he’d like to. And the standard protocols for the little droid just didn’t suffice.
“Query: Do you need medical attention master?” Jormin regretted installing the HK vocabulator right now. The dry sarcastic programming of the HK-series was praised by people all over the galaxy, feeling it gave the droid some personality.
“But I don’t need personality right now. I need a medpac!” Jormin thought.
“Statement: You are in dire need of medical attention, Master. The nearest medical facility is…”
“Under control of the Sith as well, you stupid can of banthavomit!” Jormin angry replied.
“Question: Would this alley to our left fit our need for refuge, master?”
Jormin stopped. To his left was a small opening in the grey factory like wall. He couldn’t see what was behind the gap though.
“Well Katee, put your sensors to work for a change.” Jormin pushed himself to the wall, monitoring everything around. Nar Shaddaa was famous for its alleys and it would be naïve to think his pursuers didn’t know some good routes to get to him. The droid was finished:
“Statement: Behind this gap lies the infamous ‘Entertainment promenade.’ I suggest we go in there and hide from our pursuers. We can make way for the docks right afterwards.”
Jormin smiled. “I was planning on attacking those Sith following us, but your plan sounds a bit better.”
“Attacking the Sith would be good, Master. My assassin protocols..”
“Shut up. We’re going this way.” Jormin laughed as he crawled through the small gap.
Jormin pulled himself up on the other side of the gap. His was still in pain from the blaster wound.
“Query: How am I supposed to get through this gap, Master?”
Jormin turned around. The astromech droid was indeed too large to get through.
“Why don’t you head for the ship and fire it up, Cargo canister?”
“Angry statement: I’m being pursued by hordes of angry Sith who want your head and my…well…I don’t really have a head, but they want it too.” The droid sarcastically commented.
“All right, fine.” Jormin pulled the Republic heavy blaster, which was heavily modified, from his holster and threw it through the hole.
“Go and show those assassin protocols you’re always bragging about.” Jormin said.
“Eager statement: I will not let you down master. This is much better than those shock beams you had installed!” The droid picked the blaster up. And with a loud ‘click’ the blaster was set to his head-piece.
“Well, I’ll meet you at the docks. I’ll take the long detour so we don’t enter the docks at the same time. That would be suspicious. Good luck, ehm...I’ll go with rust bucket this time.” And the droid rolled away.
Jormin turned around, facing a whole alley of entertainment. Electronic advertisements about neck massages and Tarisian ale were luring him. Twilek girls were standing on every corner, looking at him with credit signs in their eyes.
“Hehe…the beard stubble does it.” Jormin thought. All the rough scum of the galaxy was walking through this passage, it seemed. A group of Trandoshans, even a large Wookiee with two blades was standing in a corner threatening some red-haired girl. On the other side of the street, several Duros were smoking (from what Jormin could see) death sticks. The familiar smoke of the sticks put a smile on his face. “Good times…I’m back. Now let’s look for some kolto and entertainment.”