Broken, Made Whole

[Nase Talsey]

Taanab was a backwater agricultural world, nominally controlled by the Sith Imperium. However, due to it's lack of tactical and strategic importance there was only a token army garrison on Pendath, the administrative capital of the planet. Therefore it made a perfect hiding spot for refugees and those who wished to remain hidden from the eyes of the Sith. With their attention focused on their borders, small backwater planets like Taanab became hiding places for the Imperium's fugitives. Hidden amidst the dozens of unmapped/unnamed/unrecorderd agricultural settlements was the former Mandalorian Jarkin Kote. He had been consistently making his way south from Mando space, always staying one step ahead of Imperium agents and his own nightmares and regrets. He has washed up and hunkered down amidst a refugee colony called "the cove" a haphazard shanty town built on the bank of a river.

---

High in orbit a small Imperial surveillance craft had its sensors trained on the colony... There was a rumor circulating through that sector of space that a mandalorian survivor had taken refuge amongst the squalor, the small Imperial intelligence team had been dispatched to ascertain the truth.

"Status report?"

"Our agent is outside the suspect's room, ready to engage. There appears to be only the single occupant."

"Send him in."

---

Jarkin Kote sat in darkness. He had closed the blinds to his shantyhouse though light still peeked through the cracks in the wall and ceiling, providing some illumination. There was a blue glow from a small holoprojector that seemed to have half of Jarkin's attention. He stared intently at the scantily clad twi-lek while he nursed a bottle of corellian brandy which occupied the other half of his attention. How far he had fallen, once a proud warrior now reduced to a shadow of his former self. The Jarkin of 10 years ago would kill the Jarkin of today out of shame, but ten years could do a lot to a man and perhaps Jarkin was simply fortunate enough to have survived... There was no honor in the Sith's defeat of his people... the firebombing... No, that was a dishonorable way to kill and die... He took another healthy swig from the bottle while he sank lower into the molded chair and propped his booted feet on the small table in front of him.

Half a bottle later the doorway to his shantyhouse exploded inward with a boom. Had Jarkin been a lesser man he perhaps would have jumped or scrambled for cover, but he didn't. He simply turned his head to stare at the black clad figure standing in his doorway, light spilling around him... An Imperial assassin... Jarkin sighed and lowered the bottle perched upon his lips. His eyes flicked to the Westar 45 blaster lying casually near his feet upon the table. "It was only a matter of time I suppose" he said almost to himself.

With surprising speed he threw his right arm across his chest, releasing the bottle of Brandy and sending it flying towards the assassin. As the bottle left his hand he shifted his weight forward and dived forward, rolling across the table. His hand found his pistol and upon completing his roll he stood up, his blaster pointing towards the doorway, he was about to squeeze the trigger but it was empty... Where had the assailant gone?

His thought was interrupted as a powerful hand gripped his wrist...

The assassin was incredibly fast... He had dodged the brandy which had shattered against the threshold and dived leftward out of Jarkin's range. Quickly and stealthily the assassin attacked from Jarkin's rightside, the assassin's left hand gripping Jarkin's outstretched wrist, while his right hand closed into a fist and began to pummel Jarkin's midsection with rapid punches.

Jarkin grunted with the impact, losing his breath. He vainly tried to point his gun at the assassin and fired with wild abandon, which stopped the punches but the strong hand kept him from scoring hits. The blaster fire went wide and the assassin's punched the gun from Jarkin's grip. Hurt, but enraged Jarkin wrapped his arms around the assassin's midsection and with a bellow ran forward, lifting him off the ground a few miliseconds later he slammed his attacker into the wall. There was a muffled crunch and audible groan and Jarkin released his hold to deliver a flurry of punches which the assassin recovered enough to block. A powerful right hook that would have caught the assassin squarely in the jaw had he not ducked, smashed into the wall, punching through the plaster.

The assassin then began to deliver a rapid series of punches to his sturnum, cracking the Mandalorian's ribs until his left knee connected squarely with the assassin's stomach, causing him to crumple forward involuntarily. Jarkin ripped his right fist from the wall and brought it above his head to claps with his left hand before slamming it down on the assassin's back, knocking him to the floor. Quickly, Jarkin delivered a kick to the assassin's head before jumping and turning to straddle the man's back, bringing his left arm up underneath the assassin's neck, He held his left wrist with hi right hand, increasing the pressure. The assassin squirmed and wheezed until the asphyxiation knoked him out. Jarkin kept strangling for a good long while until he was sure the assassin was dead and then let go. There was a soft thud as the dead man's head hit the floor.

 

[Outlander]

The Fond Farewell skimmed low over the river, kicking up water in her wake. Tala say at the control console, closely handling the ship, doing her best to keep the ship out of sensor view. The proximity to the water and the ships speed would keep her covered, along with her baffled drive and masked sensors. This could get high-risk very quickly, and she wasn't taking any chances. Her target was Jarkin Kote, an older Mandalorian warrior. Rumors had been circulating he was here, but the imperial intelligence ship in orbit all but confirmed it. He was here, and she had a good idea where. A small shanty town along a fairly major river on the planet. She could see the town looming ahead, and pumped even more power into her engines. She had to get him before the imperial did.

 

[Nase Talsey]

Jarkin looked around the room, his eyes coming to rest on the shattered glass and brandy pooling by the doorway. "What a waste." He said to himself. He coughed slightly, and cringed in pain. It had been a long time since he had fought like that. Too long. He was soft and now hurt and without a doubt there would be more coming now. He picked himself up gingerly and moved towards the footlocker by his bed. Fumbling with the lock, he finally managed to pry the locker open to reveal a med-pack. He injected himself with some pain suppressants and removed a napsack, what was left of his life was contained within. Jarkin had been on the move continuously since the genocide, yet this encounter with the agents of the Imperium was especially personal. Sure he had murdered Imperials before but on those worlds it was different, there was a massive population to blend into, hiding places... And never had the Imperials he killed been sent to eliminate him... They knew who and where he was. If you can't hide, run.

Within 3 minutes he had put on his scaveneged armor, an Imperial army officer's breastplate and adorned his shins, knees and shoulders with the corresponding pieces of stormtrooper armor. He holstered his two Westar blaster pistols and had slung his knapsack over his back. He walked out through his blownout doorway. He peered outside cautiously, the inhabitants of the shanty town were indoors, hiding, the blaster discharges no doubt frightening them into their homes. There was no sign of other Imperials in the empty streets and he had not heard the telltale whine of an approaching landing craft.

He broke cover and sprinted towards a free standing garage, opening the door he slid inside. The garage was empty except for a single swoop bike, good condition. Jarkin had won it off of an old racer in a card game. He couldn't remember it he had fully charged it, but it was too late now. Opening the garage door, he hopped atop the swoop, turned it on and gunned the accelerator. With a loud whine, he raced across the green grasses of Taanab, heading for Pendathu...

---

In orbit the Imperial surveillance craft alarm pinged as the Imperial agent's heartbeat accelerated and then stopped altogether. After calling for reinforcements, the Nune-Class Shuttle rocketed towards the shantytown, the last known location of the Mandalorian.

 

[Outlander]

"Stang!" Tala cursed, examining the scene. One man dead and he wasn't the Mandalorian. The door was broken down, forced entry, and it didn't take long to figure out the man in black had been the assailant. And it was painfully obvious he was an imperial. But that did leave the question of where the Mandalorian had gone off to. Up above, a dark form moved across the sky, high up, descending towards Tala. It looked like the imperial where coming after him, but would only find her. She'd have to play this by ear. Within a minute, the Find Farewell was lifting off from the beach and soaring across the planet. She set the sensors across the nearby land and settlements. He couldn't have gotten too far.

 

[Nase Talsey]

The chase was over… Jarkin had attempted to flee but it was a futile effort, no swoop bike could outrun a shuttle, especially without cover or geographic variety. It was unfortunate that they caught him out in the grassy plains of Taanab, perhaps if he were in Beggar's canyon on Tattooine he could have avoided them, but alas.. The Imperium's Far Reach IV PQR surveillance ship hovered above him, a laser turret fixed squarely on the Mandalorian's position while it disembarked 5 Imperial Naval Troopers in black uniforms, helmets and armed with E11 Blaster Rifles. Jarkin stood at the bottom of a grassy hill, his hands raised above his head. He had thrown down his pistols which now rested at his feet and was the picture of perfect compliance as the Imperial Naval Troopers encircled him and closed in around him.

"You've led us on a merry chase Mandalorian, but your fate, like the rest of your people is Death." Said the Imperial Captain. there was a click as his safety was released and subsequent clicks from around the surface as the rest of the guns became ready for live fire. "And now we are one step closer to purifying the galaxy…"

Jarkin had steadied his breathing, he was ready. As the Imperial Captain was about to fire Jarkin lowered his head, almost as if he were accepting his fate. His chin came to rest on a small button on the top of his breastplate, and all at once there was a shimmer and then the Mandalorian disappeared. Jarkin immediately dropped to a crouch, already anticipating the instinctive fire from the Imperial troopers as he disappeared from their vision. As he fell and the random, desperate blaster fire passed over his head, his fingers curled around the Westar blaster pistols at his feet. In the chaos, two of the Imperials were hit by friendly fire and went down, clutching their wounds, Jarkin smoothly brought up his pistols and sent two shots through the captain's head.

"Where is he?!"

"Look for the shimmer!"

The remaining two troopers had backed off, their blasters pointing wildly in the direction they had last seen Jarkin, the only thing that revealed his location would be the telltale shimmer of his cloaking unit but there was too much fear in the Imperial's eyes to give them the focus needed to pick him out. He fired off two bursts, hitting the trooper's dead center and dropping both of them before they could react. Now all that remained was the Imperial ship, hovering above him. He considered his options when there was a flash from the underside of the ship and an overwhelming wave of heat that lifted Jarkin off his feet, buffeting him with shockwaves as the ship's laser canon and it's sensors identified his location. The Mandalorian hit the ground hard and went sprawling, unconscious...

 

[Outlander]

The Fond Farewell screamed over the Imperial Ship, the belly guns pumping fire into the shuttle. Red bolts streamed into the left folding wings, smoke erupting from the gash. The Nune-Class listed to the side, fighting to remain upright on it's remaining repulsorlifts. The Fond Farewell turned wide, flying across for another pass. Tala aimed the guns back towards the damaged wing, shooting into the damaged internals. An explosion erupted from within, pushing the ship back over to the right, tilting it over drastically. The lights flared for a moment before the ship crashed down into the plains, the top of the ship pressing down into the soft soil, the right wing crushed by the weight, the left splayed into the air. Tala looked out from the viewport down at the destroyed Intelligence ship, surveying the damage. She wouldn't fly, that was certain.

Satisfied, she brought the ship down to a hover over the crash site, setting her scanners to detect heat. Bodies lay arranged below. The thermals wouldn't tell her if they where alive or not, so it would require a manual check. The Fond Farewell shuddered at the landing gear pressed down onto the soft soil. The ramp unfurled, Tala emerging down to the ground. There where six bodies visible, all in a small area. Five where dead imperials, all showing blaster wounds. The sixth was the target.

She leaned down, Pulling his helmet off and beginning to check him. No wounds through the armor, but shockwaves could kill depending on the make. She pulled a chest plate off, checking his breathing. Steady rate, just unconscious. Good, she thought, now for a wake up. Tala pulled her armored gauntlet back, smashing him across the face. "Wake up!"