MrNepathy's Blog

Even within the confines of the shuttle’s passenger cabin, Haz’lrah Tun’law could hear the sound of loaders and transports scurrying through the hangar bay, readying the ships for war. The undecorated metal walls resonated from the ground shaking beneath the landing gear. The soft and constant hum had become a familiar sound to the Twi’lek, enough that he could almost tune it out. (more…)

Quaydo was growing impatient as he watched the Imperial captain look over the permit.

The Rodian wrapped his long fingers around his elbows as he crossed his arms.

This kept him from drumming the suction cups at his fingertips onto his belt and the pistols holstered there.

“Is there a problem Captain Reeves?” he said in his eerily soothing tones. (more…)

               Jackson Hollifeld was dying and everyone in the room knew it. In the struggling light of an uncooperative generator the blood trail on the ground appeared almost black. The right side of his face was caked with blood that had trickled from his ear. Ash and soot had mixed with the blood giving it a maroon color as it dried. The ash and dim lighting also made his face appear that much more gray and colorless. Shadows seemed darker than they should have been, giving him a chiaroscuro look. Though his left ear wasn’t bleeding it was still ringing so that he could only hear the loudest or deepest of sounds. His right hand hung in the air as he tried to point his gun towards the window while his left hand held down a bandage on his abdomen. They had seen him climb trees in the blink of an eye or wrestle Gamorreans to the ground and now the simple act of holding a pistol aloft made his arm shake. His sleeve was blackened and torn from the explosion. Some of the shrapnel was still embedded in his arm, but these pieces were tiny compared to the one in his stomach. (more…)

             It was nearing the end of the spring semester and Jackson Hollifeld was sitting in class listening to his professor talk about hydroponics. Though the professor spoke without much of an accent, the chorus-like quality of his dual-mouths caused many to have problems understanding him. Jackson, who had grown up with an Ithorian almost always around, didn’t have that issue. So he took notes easily while the professor repeated himself for other members of the class. It was mostly the off-worlders that had trouble. (more…)

               “We’re ‘feet warm’ and will be landing soon General,” the communications officer said as he stepped into the troop bay of Keylan’s Horns.
                Jackson Hollifeld looked towards Haz’lrah Tunlaw beside him and tilted his head towards the communications officer.
                The Twi’lek laughed softly and glanced down at Jackson, “I believe he is talking to you Jackson, not me.”
                A slight blush swept across Jackson’s aging face, “Right.” He turned to the communications officer and said, “Thank you Lieutenant. What’s the LZ situation?”
                “Colorful, sir. Not to question you sir, but it seems like a strange place to land. Are you sure this is where we should go?”
                Jackson nodded, “It’s where Colonel Boon’s team said the enemy was weakest.”
                “Yes sir,” the officer said without further question, knowing how the general felt about his intelligence officer. The lieutenant disappeared back into the forward section.
                When Jackson turned back to Haz’lrah he smiled a bit more, “Old habits.”
                “You’ve been a general for over a decade Jackson, ever since I became an ambassador, you should be used to it,” the Twi’lek said softly.
                Jackson tucked his hands into his pockets, “I jus’ always assume they’re talkin’ to you Chief.”
                Haz’lrah smiled, showing just a hint of his jagged, triangular teeth, “One day, I will get you to call me Haz.”
                “Not likely Chief,” Jackson said with a bit of a grin.
                The ship rocked as something exploded nearby. Two seconds later the sound of an A-wing’s engines whined past. Jackson reached out and grabbed the ramp mechanism to stabilize himself. Though Haz’lrah shifted his weight and stayed steady on his own, the two Barabels standing behind him reached out and each took one of the Twi’lek’s elbows to help support him. Haz’lrah nodded his thanks.
                As Jackson stood back up normally, he glanced up at the three and shook his head.
                “Yessss Stubborn Tree?” the more heavily armed Barabel said. The name given to Jackson when he was made an honorary member of Haz’lrah’s clan on Ryloth was actually “Tree that Defies the Desert,” but over the past few weeks being around the Barabels, he had gotten used to being called “Stubborn Tree.”
                “Nothin’, I was jus’ feelin’…”
                “Flessshy?” the same Barabel asked.
                “Short… I was gonna say short.”
                The warrior Barabel smiled, showing off two rows of sharp, needle-like teeth. His name was Toshkal and he was a great hunt leader back on his homeworld.
                “An’ now a little scared…” Jackson said, smiling.
                “No harm would ever come to you from ussss,” the more regally dressed Barabel said, “Sssstridesss into Ssstormsss trusssstsss you, sssso we do assss well.” He was named Mocsha, and he was the equivalent of a council member amongst his people. Both had traveled with Haz’lrah for several years, but were still getting used to humans, and working on their Basic.
                Jackson nodded up at him, “Thanks Moc. I was jus’ teasin’ though.”
                “Yessss, I underssstand. It wassss funny,” Moc said without laughing, or making any noise that Jackson would assume was laughter.
                “Either way, you’re lookin’ very diplomatic today Moc…”
                “I have a ssssash,” the Barabel said with a huge grin. He stroked the claw of his thumb along the edge. Tucked into the back of the sash and sticking out over his shoulder was a huge, serrated pike.
                “Kind of like puttin’ a happy face on the side of an AT-AT.”
                Haz’lrah smiled and reached out to hand Jackson a cup of tea.
                Jackson took it, raised it in a slight salute and took a sip, “Love this tea, but I miss my coffee.”
                “Ulcer still bothering you?”
                “A little… for some reason I seem to be under a lot of stress.” Just then the ship banked hard to the right and two fighters flew quickly by the viewport of the ramp. One was a standard TIE and the other was a TIE Interceptor. Jackson quirked an eyebrow, “Are we sure this isn’t the real Empire? I thought only Pally’s guys had the good stuff.”
                Haz’lrah stroked his lekku and looked down at his human friend, “Why is it I think if I asked you who the officer in charge of supplies for this Imperial regiment, you could tell me?”
                Jackson smiled slightly, “Because you know me too well Chief… an’ he’s addicted to gamblin’ on shockball.”
                “Who is?”
                “The supply captain.”
                “You certainly do your homework.”
                Jackson took a large shaped charge out of his satchel and held it up, “I have to if I’m handlin’ one of these… should have read the manual though.”
                “There’s a manual?” Haz’lrah asked, playing along.
                “Not really… Kylariss said she ‘Jackson-proofed’ it though, so it should be fine. And she didn’t let Boomer near it.” Boomer was the nickname of Jackson’s demolition droid, which he was convinced was conspiring again him along with Whurbler, his astromech droid.
                Jackson glanced over his shoulder for a moment and watched a private remove the energy pack, blow across the connectors and then plug it back into the rifle. It was the third time he had done it since boarding the ship. The general looked up for a second, thinking, and then said softly, “How’s Jayla?”
                The private snapped his head up a bit, “Sir?”
                “Your daughter, Jayla right?”
                “She’s fine sir. Took her first steps the other day,” The private smiled a bit, looking at Jackson in surprise.
                Jackson patted him on the shoulder, “Well, you’ll be seeing her before you can clean your blaster again. Stick close to me, an’ do as I do.”
                “Yes sir, thank you sir.”
                “Not, exactly as he does, though,” Haz’lrah joked.
                Jackson grinned, “Right not exactly as I do.”
                The private looked back and forth between them.
                The Twi’lek said carefully, “The general has a tendency to…” and he waived his hand palm up towards Jackson.
                “…draw fire?” Jackson said, trying to complete Haz’lrah’s thought.
                “That’s one way to put it, but I was going to say run into heat storms.”
                “Well that’s the Gamorrean callin’ the Dewback green now isn’t it?”
                Haz’lrah merely shrugged.
                Jackson looked back at the private, “What the Chief isn’t tellin’ you is that half the time I was drawin’ fire, it was to go in to save him.”
                “I felt that information would cloud the issue,” the Twi’lek said, showing his pointed teeth in a grin.
                “Suuure.”
                The private looked towards the Dressellian sniper beside him, “Are they always like this Sergeant?”
                Toliver nodded.
                “Doesn’t that worry you at all?”
                Toliver shook his head.
                “Nice talking to you Sergeant.”
                The Dressellian nodded.
                “Toliver?” Jackson asked.
                “Right,” Toliver responded, indicating he would be firing over Jackson’s right shoulder.
                The general nodded, “Check. Bradley and Raheek in position?”
                “Yes.”
                “Raheek had his sugar?”
                The Dressellian nodded.
                “This is going to be a weird afternoon,” Jackson muttered as the ship slowed its descent and the repulsors kicked in for the landing. They could hear small explosions all about, along with the constant cacophony of blaster fire. The ramp light went from red to yellow and the communications officer reentered the troop bay.
                “Opening doors in ten seconds General.”
                Jackson nudged Haz’lrah with his elbow.
                “Jackson, he meant you.”
                To that, Jackson only grinned, “I know Chief, but, you’ll always be my general.”
                With that the ramp lowered, Jackson and Haz’lrah rushed out with the Barabels right behind them. Toliver’s rifle boomed repeatedly while the corporal beside him looked through macrobinoculars and called shots.