FRANCIS KAYNA
Gunslinger
Gunslinger
Basic info
Name: Francis Jeremy Kayna
Age: 28
Species: Human (Corellian)
Height: 1,81 m
Weight: 84 kilograms
Eye color: Ice-cold blue (the color of glaciers)
Hair color: Black
Skin color: Sun-bronzed
Planet: Corellia
Force sensitive: Yes (He doesn’t know this, though)
Job: Smuggler
Class: Gunslinger
Equipment
2x .45 Blaster Revolvers (six-shooters)
1x Basic durasteel short sword
1x Datapad
1x Comlink
1x Medpack
1x Shield generator
PERSONALITY
I’m often a quiet man. I’m usually very serious and sometimes a bit cold. I can be a little absent minded at times, and I’ll just stare at nothing, at something only I can see. When you get to know me a little better, though, you’ll find that I’m actually a very nice guy. I care for my friends and will try my best to help them with anything.
I have a few bad habits, though, but we all have them, don’t we? I’m a heavy smoker and I like a drink. Especially Corellian ales or whiskeys; those are the best. Sometimes I drink a little too much and I get in trouble. It’s usually nothing too serious, but sometimes it gets really nasty. I tend to act different when I’m tipsy, and I’ll do things I normally wouldn’t do.
At first I might come across as arrogant, or even mean, but that’s probably because I’m slow to trust others. I’ve seen my share of the galaxy, and after all I’ve been through it’s just hard to trust someone else.
LIKES AND DISLIKES
Being a smuggler, I just love the thrill of smuggling contraband around the galaxy. It’s exciting and it generally pays well. I also love exploring the galaxy with my ship, the Star Strider. O, I really love my ship. I love it. I love to work on it, to upgrade it, to maintain it. Of course, R9 is there to help me with maintenance—he’s in fact the head technician of my crew—but whenever I can I pick up a hydrospanner to work on the vessel myself.
In my spare time, when I’m not working on the vessel, I like to relax in the living suite of my ship with a good book and a cold beer. I really like books, you know, especially those about Jedi Knights who try to save the galaxy and bring peace to all the planets. When I was a child, I sometimes dreamed of being a Jedi myself. Haha… yea.
If there’s one thing I absolutely hate, then that’d be politics. Yes, politics. I couldn’t care less about it. **** Coruscant and the Empire and whatever else is out there. I honestly don’t give a kriff (hey, that rhymes!). I just do my work as a smuggler and of course I follow the news, but I still don’t like it at all. Stupid politicians.
Hmm, well, I don’t often go to a saloon anymore. I actually only go there when I have to gather some information about things. Saloons are generally a good place to start looking for work, or for a person. There are a few saloons out there which I really like and one of them is the Outlander Club on Coruscant. The personnel knows me there. I do like to go out, but I don’t really have the time for that kind of thing. I’m almost always out there, traveling… smuggling.
If I like shooting? To be honest, not particularly, no. I hate taking lives, I kriffing hate it. But when it comes to shooting, I don’t control my hands anymore. They draw the guns themselves and gun down all my enemies. I keep practicing my shooting skills, because I don’t want to get killed, but really, I don’t like it. I’d teach others how to wield a gun, if I ever have the time, but I don’t like it myself. Actually, I don’t like violence at all. But really, when I get in a fight, I don’t think about what I like and dislike anymore. I just make quick work of my opponents and I get on with it.
But I do like riding a Carrion Spat on the plains of Corellia.
STRENGTHS AND WEAKNESSES
That’s a good one. I bet there are lots of people out there who claim they don’t have weaknesses, but everyone has them, I guess.
First of all, I’m a great gunslinger. I almost always hit my targets, I barely ever miss. I can reload my guns extremely fast, if necessary, and I almost instantly know where to aim to get the best shot. I have the eyes of a gunslinger. This is a skill I’ve been training all my life and I doubt—sorry if this sounds arrogant—that there’s anyone who can beat me with the gun. I’m not saying I’m the best, but I’m definitely one of the best. What kind of gun? Well, pretty much all kinds of guns. Especially my twin DE-10 blaster pistols.
I sometimes carry my short sword with me, in case I gotta switch to close combat. I usually keep my distance, so I can use my guns as much as possible, but when I have to use my sword I’ll use it. I’m not a great swordsman, but I’m decent enough. I know how to duel, I know how to parry blows and I’m patient enough to wait for an opening to strike my opponent. I practice with the sword a lot, but—like I said—it’s not my best skill.
I’m a good pilot. I usually fly my ship—the Star Strider—myself. I’m a leaf in the wind. I’m good at dogfighting, although I prefer to avoid that, because I tend to get really stressed in a dogfight. It’s weird, though, because in a sword— or gunfight I don’t get stressed at all, then I somehow manage to keep my cool. In space, in a dogfight, it’s not like I panic, but I tend to get a little stressed and I begin to shout all kinds of swearwords. If it so happens that I end up in a dogfight, I’ll be fine and I’ll (hopefully) be able to get out alive, but you won’t see me volunteer for the Sith or Alliance star fighter squadrons. It’s a good thing I only have to focus on dodging, though, because someone else of my crew will man the gun turrets.
APPEARANCE
I have striking, ice-cold blue eyes, the color of glaciers. Some people get caught off guard when they look into my eyes. I can’t say my eyes are really that pretty, or cute, or whatever… they’re just cold. Unusual I guess. I also have long, black hair that falls to my shoulders. Most of the time I have a thick stubble beard, but that’s because I’m kinda lazy. My skin color is tan.
I’m a rather tall guy. I’m 1,81 m in height. I am slender, but not skinny. I have a somewhat muscular build, but I’m not a body builder or anything.
Usually I wear my dark-brown hat. When I’m inside my ship I don’t wear it, but when I go outside I do. I have a black longcoat as well, which I usually wear outside my ship as well. I wear shirts in different kinds of colors. Blue; black; red; green. I have a red scarf which I wear to keep the dust out of my mouth when traveling through dusty regions—for instance when I’m racing across the Dune Sea on a speeder bike. I have a couple of grey jeans—they all look the same—and a few pairs of boots. I also have a black hoodie and a few combat trousers and some sleeveless shirts. I tend to wear the ‘gunslinger clothes’, though.
I have a utility belt with a holder for a comlink; two holsters for my guns hanging low at my hips; and a sheath for my short sword at my left hip (though I don’t always carry around my sword).
I look like a desperado from Southern Corellia.
I
It was a dark, smoky saloon. A small band played on the stage: a few Bith musicians and two female Twi’lek singers. Round tables stood here and there, shady fellows sat at the tables playing those famous card games. Pazaak and sabacc. Gamblers, this room was full of gamblers.
The bartender was a big Zabrak. He filled the one glass after the other. Corellian ale, the best ale in the galaxy. A few courtesans led some of the patrons upstairs. Laughter could be heard. Everything seemed to be just fine.
But nothing was fine.
A figure, dressed in a dark robe, entered the saloon. Everyone—including myself—looked over to the newcomer. I glanced at him from under my hat. I took a drag from my cigarette and blew out white smoke. I sat in the back of the room, with my back to the wall. I watched the dark newcomer’s every step. Meanwhile, everyone resumed their card games and laughing could be heard once again.
I watched the figure walking over to the bar. He sat down on a stool. His face was shrouded inside his black hood. I wondered if I was the only one who’d caught a glimpse of his lightsaber.
I couldn’t hear what the bartender and the cloaked figure said to each other, but I assume the figure just ordered a drink and asked about the latest news. I remained on my seat, my right hand on the butt end of one of my blasters. I took the cigarette between index finger and thumb of my left hand and blew out the smoke. Slowly, I brought the cigarette down to the ash tray. Then, I placed my left hand on the butt end of my other gun. I think I was the only one who felt the tension.
It was a matter of minutes.
I shot a quick glance over to the exit. I guessed I’d be able to reach the exit in ten seconds—that is, if I’d jump over the tables. Then I looked back to the dark figure, I hoped he’d not seen me yet. You see, that man over there, was here for me. I’d tried to smuggle Sith holocrons into Alliance space. He intercepted me, but I could escape just in time. That Sith over there had been hunting me ever since. For some reason, he always managed to find me. Wherever I went. Even here, on Tatooine.
As the Sith was talking to the bartender, I rose to a stand. Very, very slowly. I turned towards the door and began to walk, at a fast pace. My hands were not on the butt ends of my guns anymore, if people would see me walking to the exit so fast with my hands close to my guns, they’d get suspicious. I didn’t want to draw too much attention.
I passed by a table where four patrons were playing a game of sabacc. If I’d left ten seconds earlier, I might have gotten away in time, but alas… it never works out the way you want it to work out. Never.
‘You cheated!’ the Trandoshan gambler growled to one of the other gamblers.
All four men immediately stood up, drawing their guns and aiming at each other. I bit my lip, knowing these four blokes would draw all the attention in the saloon, including that of the Sith. Because I stood right next to the guys with the guns, the Sith would see me.
I tried to get to the exit of the saloon, but a moment later it was as if an invisible power pushed me in the back. I flew through the air and crashed down on the floor. My hat fell off my head. That’s when the blaster fire started. The laughter turned into screaming. I could feel how the Sith approached me, slowly, step by kriffing step.
I rolled onto my back, drew both my blasters and aimed them at the Sith. I opened fire. The one bolt erupted after the other from the barrels of my guns. Of course it was of no use; the Sith simply reached out his hand and he deflected the bolts.
Then, it was as if the invisible hand clenched my throat and lifted me off the floor. I dropped my pistols and reached for my throat. I gasped for air and desperately tried to break free from the iron grip.
The Sith threw me through the window, onto the street outside. I fell down on the ground, dust floated up around my body. I saw how the Sith walked out the saloon. He stepped off the wooden walkway and walked over to me. My eyes were fixed on the dark figure, but from the corners of my eyes I saw stormtroopers appear. They carried E-11 rifles and their white armors shimmered in the moonlight.
I surrendered. I didn’t have a choice.
II
Two of the troopers picked me off the ground and dragged me along. People watched me being taken away. Nobody came to aid me, for they were all terrified. The Sith led his squad of stormtroopers—and me—to the spaceport. They brought me onboard their ship and we took off.
Inside that cruiser, I was put in a holding cell, behind a force field. I was guarded by two stormtroopers, as if I really could escape. I am no Jedi, I have no Force powers, so I had no chance to escape. Of course I was afraid, but I tried my best not to show it. I just stared at the force field. When the guards asked me something, I didn’t answer.
It was a rather short flight to their capital ship. A huge star destroyer. The Sith’s master was there. I’m not sure how I knew that, but I could feel it… somehow. It was like an instinct, I was aware of the others onboard this vessel. I was aware of the Sith Lord onboard the star destroyer. It was frightening.
After what seemed like eternity, the force field deactivated. The two stormtroopers came into my cell and escorted me to the exit of the cruiser. In front of me, the hatch opened and the boarding ramp extended. The hangar of the star destroyer appeared before me and I saw legions of troopers lined up. They formed a pathway from the boarding ramp to the door at the other end of the hangar. The Sith walked down the boarding ramp and I—flanked by the stormtroopers—followed in tow. I followed the Sith to the other end of the hangar.
In the hallway beyond the door, a stormtrooper commander awaited us.
‘Is this Kayna?’ the commander asked the Sith.
‘Yes,’ the Sith answered. His voice was but a cold whisper. Frightening. ‘It’s the smuggler. Take him to the holding cells now. I shall interrogate him soon.’
‘Yes, milord,’ the commander said.
The troopers escorted me to the cells. I glanced at each of them as we walked down the hallways. I had the eyes of a gunslinger, I saw how I could disarm the trooper to my right and use his E-11 to shoot up the other troopers. The stormtrooper commander was armed with a heavy repeater, so I had to be careful with him. I decided not to act, though. I simply walked with them and cooperated. Why? Imagine I’d kill these troopers, then what about all the other troopers onboard this station? There was no way I’d survive that. No, they had won this round. I just had to be patient… and wait until I’d see an opening in their defense. It was just like dueling with the rapier.
We walked down the hallways, descended with a turbo lift, and finally stepped into the prison section of the station. They led me to a cell, lowered the force field, and pushed me inside. I stumbled towards the back of the cell and could reach out my hands to put them against the wall just in time, or else I would’ve hit the wall with my face and then I’d have fallen to the floor. That just would’ve looked bad.
So, all I had left was my blue shirt, my grey pants, my utility belt with empty holsters and my leather longcoat. I’d dropped my blasters on the floor, in that saloon back on Tatooine. I think my hat also lied somewhere in the dust of Tatooine. Perhaps those items were already taken away by someone. It was okay though, they were just tools. Easy to replace.
As I stood there in the back of the cell, I suddenly heard someone laughing behind me. I slowly turned around and saw a Devaronian man sitting there. A fellow prisoner. I glanced at him, suspiciously, and he must’ve noticed that, because he told me to calm down.
He said: ‘I’m not gonna hurt ya, mate.’
‘No,’ I said to him, ‘you won’t, old chap. You’re a prisoner here too, ain’t ya?’
‘Well,’ the Devaronian said, ‘what does it look like I am, hmm? I’m in this kriffing cell, just like you, eh?’
I nodded. ‘Yea,’ I said, ‘sorry. Name’s Fran Kayna, what’s yours, old chap?’
‘Werner Lang,’ the Devaronian said, ‘name’s Werner Lang.’ He tipped an invisible hat.
I sat down next to him and leaned with my back against the wall. I rubbed my eyes and yawned. I was tired as hell.
‘You’re a gunslinger, aren’t you?’ Werner asked me.
‘Aye,’ I said, ‘I am. Gunslinger’s the title I prefer, though most people call me smuggler. Ain’t gonna lie ‘bout that one; I do carry contraband on my vessel. What about you, Werner? You’re a smuggler too?’
‘That, I am,’ Werner admitted.
We were silent for a while, lost in our own thoughts. It was then when Werner asked me another question.
‘Where’re you from, Fran?’ he inquired. ‘Southern Corellia, I guess? I can hear it in your accent.’
‘Aye,’ I said, ‘I’m Corellian. I reckon you’re Coruscanti, ain’t ya?’
And he was. In my life, I had heard enough accents to determine who came from which world. We chatted about all kinds of things and finally, after a long conversation, he asked what it was like on Corellia, and how I became a smuggler.
Because there wasn’t much else to do, I told him my back story…
III
Corellia. I was fifteen years old. I carried a pair of blaster pistols at my hips, I wore a hat and a longcoat, along with a red scarf. I walked among Owen Kayna (my father), Bill Shire, Tom Harolds and Crowley Willows. The men wore clothes similar to mine, but of course they were grown-ups, and a lot taller than me. They all carried a pair of blaster pistols of their own, but theirs were considerably more powerful than mine. We traveled the plains of Corellia, under the hot sun.
Owen—my dad—was a professional smuggler. He was the captain of a small freighter, called the Star Strider, and the other gunslingers were his crew. Bill Shire was a Human; Tom Harolds was a Human; and Crowley Willows—I don’t believe that was his real name—was a Zabrak. I traveled with my dad, because I didn’t have a mother. Not anymore.
We were on our way to a small farmstead. The farmer who lived there—Mangio Algamere, a Rodian—had a few crates of contraband for us. Illegal weapons and some alcohol. We had to smuggle it to a client on Nar Shaddaa. Some fat Hutt called Algarr.
We stood in front of the farmstead. My dad turned to me and took off his head. I took off mine. He said, as he loosely held his hat in his left hand: ‘Wait here, son,’ he shot a quick glance over to Crowley, before looking back to me, ‘and stay with Crowley. We’ll be back soon.’ He turned to the entrance and walked towards it. ‘Bill, Tom, let’s go,’ he said as he put his hat back on. His guns—and those of Bill and Tom—were concealed under his longcoat.
It was such a beautiful summer day.
As dad, Tom and Bill headed into the house, Crowley lit a cigarette.
‘They should be back soon, lad,’ he said.
I glanced up to him and nodded. I still held my hat in my right hand. ‘I know,’ I said. I might not have sounded all that confident and—if I remember correctly—I was kind of anxious. Crowley probably saw it in my bright blue eyes, for he looked concerned.
He took a large drag from his cigarette and said: ‘They’ll be fine, kiddo. They’re kriffing gunman. Y’know they’ll be fine.’
I nodded, but I wasn’t convinced. Not at all. I put my hat back on and placed my hands on my guns. Crowley saw it and grinned, but didn’t say anything about it. We both looked at the building up ahead and were silent for a while, until…
…we heard gunfire.
‘Kriff!’ Crowley said and he dropped his cigarette to the ground. He immediately took his heavy blaster pistols out of his holsters and aimed them at the building. I drew my own blaster pistols as well. These weren’t heavy blasters such as Crowley’s, but still deadly in the right hands. I had the right hands.
A window shattered. Another window exploded in a thousand pieces of glass. Then, the front door went open and my dad, followed by Tom and Bill, ran out of the building. They were chased by blaster bolts, but all the bolts missed. That was—what my father always called—scoundrel’s luck.
A few moments later a battle droid appeared on the door step. Crowley took a step forwards and shouted: ‘DOWN!’
My father, Bill and Tom let themselves fall to the ground. Their hats fell off their heads. They lied still. Crowley opened fire on the droid. The bolts from Crowley’s blasters tore the droid apart. None of Crowley’s shots missed. He was one hell of a sharpshooter.
My dad and the others grabbed their hats and got onto their feet. They ran over to me and Crowley.
‘What in the name of kriff happened?’ Crowley asked.
‘The bloke set up a kriffin’ trap, man,’ Bill said in his thick southern accent. His accent was similar to my father’s, and similar to mine. A thick southern Corellian accent. Only Tom and Crowley weren’t from Corellia. ‘There were no crates, chap,’ Bill went on. ‘Jus’ him and that kriffin’ droid of his. We shot the filthy Rodian through the head, or rather, Tom did,’ he gestured at Tom. ‘We didn’t see the droid at first, else we would’ve shot it up, but it completely threw us of guard, man. We had to run.’
‘That was one helluva shot, Crow,’ Owen said. ‘Good job.’
Crowley tucked his blasters back in the holsters and tipped his hat.
‘So, what happens now?’ Crowley asked.
My father shrugged. ‘Guess we’d better just head back to the ship and get off-world quickly. We’ll talk about what to do next onboard the ship.’
Our ship was just up ahead. We’d landed on the plains, just a short distance away from Mangio Algamere’s farmstead. We boarded the ship. My father and Tom went to the cockpit. My father usually flew the ship himself, Tom was the co-pilot. I remained in the main room with Crowley, Bill and R9-J4—our astromech droid.
Soon we were back in space and my dad and Tom joined us in the main room.
‘So, what to do…’ my dad muttered as he sat down on a seat.
‘I suspect that Algarr the Hutt has something to do with this,’ Tom said.
‘So we take him out,’ Bill practically shouted. He drew one of his blasters in the blink of an eye. How he managed to do that while sitting on his chair, I have no idea.
We all looked over to Bill as if he’d just suggested to blow up all of Coruscant. Bill raised both eyebrows and had an expression on his face that said something along the lines of: ‘What!?’
Crowley waved with his hand to Bill: Let the idiot ramble on, and turned to Owen, my father. ‘Seriously,’ Crowley said, ‘what are we going to do? If we decide to kill Algarr we might die along the way. Can’t say I’m looking forward to that, chaps. Ya’ll know he’s got quite some firepower.’
‘Aye,’ Owen said, ‘he does. So do we, Crow… everyone. So do we. With our marksman skills we can easily shoot ‘em all up and march out victorious—’
‘—see! Didn’t I—’
‘—shush, Bill, let me finish!’ Owen rolled his eyes and Bill’s face turned all red. ‘Now, I wasn’t saying that we’ll be able to shoot ‘em all up by just walking in, guns blazin’, that’s not what I meant. We should come up with some kind of strategy. Something we can throw him off-guard with.’
It was Crowley who came up with a strategy. Crowley was the most cunning of us all.
We discussed Crowley’s plan—or rather; they discussed the plan, I just sat by—and we set course for Nar Shaddaa, to find Algarr the Hutt.
That didn’t end well…
IV
‘Stay with R9, on the ship.’
Those were the last words my dad said to me. I watched them walk down the boarding ramp. They walked down the landing pad and disappeared in the crowd. R9 stood beside me.
‘Bleep-bloop-beeeeeep,’ R9-J4 said.
I glanced down at the little R9 astromech and smiled faintly. ‘No,’ I told him, ‘they’ll be fine. They’re the best gunslingers I’ve ever seen.’
I closed the boarding ramp and headed to the main room together with R9. When I saw my father and the others back, they were all dead.
V
The next day I didn’t expect them to return. They were going to assassinate a Hutt crime lord, and that couldn’t be done in one day. Two days later I didn’t expect them to be back either. Three days later I still considered it ‘normal’ that they were not back yet. Four days later I still didn’t mind. Five days later I got a little bit anxious. Six days later I got suspicious. Seven days later I began to wonder if something went wrong. Eight days later I got terrified. Nine days later I panicked. Ten days later I found the dead bodies on the landing pad, right outside my ship, along with five Trandoshan bounty hunters armed with heavy repeaters.
I glanced out the window and saw the reptilian men. A shock went through my body and I quickly drew both my blasters out of the holsters. I didn’t think I’d be a match to those guys, but then again, those guns were in my hands before I knew it. I’d drawn them instinctively.
I only wore a white shirt, blue jeans and black boots that day (and of course my utility belt with the blasters), so I had little to no protection if it came to a fight with the Trandos. I glanced over to R9-J4, who came into the room. He bleeped and blooped; he wanted to know what was going on.
‘F-father and the o-others,’ I stammered. ‘They’re dead… k-killed by Algarr’s henchmen…’ I bit my lip and a moment later it really hit me what had happened. I looked out the window again and saw the dead bodies. My dad and my friends were really dead. They were gone. They’d never come back to life. I’d never hear their voices again.
I felt miserable. I had the feeling I’d have to throw up, but fortunately I didn’t. I clenched the butt ends of my guns till my knuckles were all white. Sweat dripped down my face, along with the tears. I bit my lip, not knowing what to do. That’s when the leader of the Trandos stepped forward and began to call me out.
‘Son of Kayna, we know you’re in there! Come out now, or we’ll have to get violent!’
I shot an anxious glance over to R9. ‘What do they want with me?’ I whispered, shocked.
‘Son of Kayna!’ I instantly looked at them again. They looked so dangerous, with their heavy repeating blasters and their full sets of armor. But, even though I was just fifteen at the time, I already had the eyes of a gunslinger. Their bodies were protected with the armor, but their heads were unprotected. I glanced down to my guns and I knew I’d have to make a couple of headshots in order to survive.
‘KAYNA!’
‘R9,’ I said, ‘prep the ship for take off! I’ll take care of them!’
‘Bleep-bloop-dwoooooo…’
‘Don’t worry, R9,’ I said, ‘just do as I say. I’ll be back soon, and then we’ll get the hell off this planet!’
Without a word R9-J4 turned and rolled into the cockpit. I walked over to the exit of the ship with the guns in hands. I planned to lower the boarding ramp and to walk down the ramp very slowly, and as I walked down the ramp, I’d shoot them up. All of them. I’d never really participated in a shoot-out before—although my father and his friends had been there—but I knew how to handle a gun. I’d try my best. Not just to get out alive, but to avenge my family as well.
The Trandoshans looked up when they saw me walking down the boarding ramp. They might not have seen my guns at first—or at least, I bet they didn’t expect me to bring guns—because they reacted pretty slow.
Anger boiled inside me and my blue eyes seethed with rage. I didn’t shout, I didn’t scream, I didn’t let out a cry. Tears just ran down my cheeks, but I pressed my lips. I didn’t want to make a sound with my voice. I didn’t want to. I don’t know why… maybe because I wanted to uphold a certain demeanor. Maybe I wanted to come across as a cold murderer. Fearless and fearsome. Maybe… I don’t know.
What I do know is that the leader’s skull was the first to explode.
I didn’t wait for them to open fire first, I immediately raised my guns and pulled the triggers until there was nothing left of those kriffing reptiles.
So, I aimed at the leader first. I pulled the trigger and a split second later the blaster bolt slammed into the reptile’s skull, shattering into tiny bits of blood and flesh and bone. I immediately raised my gun to shoot the Trando who stood right next to the leader. He suffered the same fate as his leader. I raised my guns again to gun down the next two Trandos—there were three left—when they finally were able to return fire. Their bolts crashed into the ship and onto the boarding ramp, all around me, but for some reason I didn’t get shot. I don’t know why… or how… My father would’ve called it scoundrel’s luck. I pulled the triggers of both my blasters, a few shots missed, then I hit two of the three Trandos. I shot one of them in the head as well, but the other shot was a bit off. I hit the Trandoshan’s shoulder, and because the shoulder was armored, it didn’t have much effect. The Trando just roared in anger. Of course his shoulder hurt quite a bit, but it wasn’t broken or anything.
A few of their shots crashed into the boarding ramp, right in front of my feet, and that’s when I realized I had to end this right away. I fired off a few shots again, some missed, but then two hit the skulls of the reptiles. Their headless bodies collapsed and smoke floated up from the barrels of my guns. The dead bodies practically bathed in a pool of red, hot Trando blood. Disgusting.
That was the first time I actually killed. And it was heavy.
I glanced over the bodies and it was then that I noticed the dead hand of the leader clenched a datapad. I walked down the ramp, very slowly, still holding my guns, and I approached the Trandoshan leader. My heart was beating in my chest. I was terrified. I felt the urge to run towards the body of my dad and to cry my heart out, but I had to find out what the Trandoshan’s hand was holding.
I knelt down beside the reptile’s body and I took the datapad. I activated it and I saw a rather disturbing video…
VI
Owen, Crowley, Bill and Tom stood in Algarr’s throne room. They were surrounded by Gamorrean guards, armed with heavy axes, and a few bounty hunters of different species. The leader of the Trandoshans was there too.
[Ah,] Algarr said, [there you are!] He laughed like only a Hutt could. [Have you brought the contraband, Owen?]
‘Yes, Algarr,’ Owen said, ‘we did.’ And then, as if that was the code for: attack!, the smugglers drew their guns and opened fire on the guards inside the room. Of course they attacked the guards first. Algarr was no fighter. They could leave him for the last.
They gunned down most of the henchmen, until one of the bounty hunters grabbed a heavy repeater and shot the gunslingers up. Their bodies flew through the room and crashed against the wall. Algarr laughed out loud and then turned to look at the camera.
[Boy, son of Kayna,] he said, to my shock, [if you’re watching this, then you’re either captured by my Trandoshan hunters or you’ve managed to kill them all. If it’s the latter, run. If it’s the former, I’ll see you soon.] He laughed again and then the video ended.
VII
I stared at the datapad I held in my shaking hands. This was too much. This was way and way too much. I couldn’t take it, and of course I couldn’t, I was just a boy.
‘You there!’ a voice sounded from up ahead. I looked up and saw a squadron of stormtroopers running over to me, armed with E-11 rifles. I knew that if I stayed there, I’d be captured and shit would get worse, so I had to get onboard the ship and escape. Of course I regretted it that I had to leave the bodies of my father and my friends behind, but there was no time. I would’ve buried them on Corellia… but there just was no time!
I quickly got up and ran up the boarding ramp of the ship. I still held the datapad, and I would take it with me. I had already made my decision; I’d kill Algarr the Hutt. I’d kriffing kill him for what he’s done… and I would need this datapad. To show him what I wanted from him.
‘Stop!’ the troopers shouted, but I ignored them.
R9-J4 had prepped the ship. The boarding ramp closed behind me and I ran to the cockpit. ‘Let’s go, R4!’ I shouted.
‘Bleep-beep-dwooo,’ R4 agreed.
We took off, leaving an angry squad of stormtroopers—who stood amongst dead bodies—behind. I would return to Nar Shaddaa a couple of years later, but until then, I hid and honed my skills with the gun. I’d need it.
VIII
Four years passed. I traveled the galaxy, practiced with my blasters, and became a great gunslinger. All those years I longed to extract my revenge on that filthy Hutt slime, but I waited. I forced myself to wait. I just had to be patient if I wanted to survive this.
When I finally blasted Algarr to pieces, I was nineteen years old. I was a young gunslinger, armed with a pair of DE-10 blaster pistols. I acquired them on the black market, on some faraway space station.
I landed with the ship (R9 was still with me, of course) on a landing pad on Nar Shaddaa. I didn’t look like the fifteen years old anymore. Not at all. I doubted Algarr would recognize me. I had very long, black hair that fell to my shoulders. My deep-blue eyes were now ice-cold blue: the color of glaciers. I’d grown a beard as well.
R9 stayed behind on the ship and I walked down the boarding ramp, onto the landing pad. I wore a black longcoat, my two blasters were hidden under the coat. My face was hidden deep inside the hood, attached to the blue sweater I wore under my coat. I strode down the landing pad, into the city of Nar Shaddaa. That night, lots of blood would be shed.
There was a cantina. I headed on in and ignored the patrons. I stepped up to the bartender and sat down on a stool. I ordered a drink and chatted some with the bartender, who was a Human. After a while, I asked him about Algarr, and I learned from the bartender that Algarr was partying in his own manor. I thanked the bartender and after finishing my drink, I took my leave.
It was a short hike to Algarr’s manor. It stood on a large platform, heavily guarded by lots of thugs and bounty hunters. I stopped at a short distance from the manor, just far enough so the guards couldn’t see me. I counted the guards, there were six of them. I knew I could easily take them out. All of them. All at once. But that’d alarm the guards inside.
When I got a little bit closer I learned that wasn’t true.
Algarr was partying and the music was loud. Very loud. Any shots fired by my blasters would get drowned out by the music. Fair enough.
I walked onto the platform and saw that two of the guards approached me already. As I walked at a steady pace, I drew my blasters and gunned both guards down. The other four guards saw that and all took aim with their E-11 rifles. I took aim as well and gunned another down. A blaster bolt from one of the E-11s crashed into the platform right in front of me. I simply stepped over the smoky hole in the platform as if nothing had happened. I raised my blaster and shot down the guard who’d fired at me. Another blaster bolt flew right passed me and I shot down that guard as well. Only two remained. I never stopped walking towards the entrance. As I walked on at a steady pace, I lifted both my guns and shot down the two remaining guards at once. Their bodies dropped to the ground and their rifles fell out of their hands. With smoking guns in my hands, I stopped in front of the entrance and blasted open the door.
I was inside and the shots were indeed drowned out by the loud music. Once I opened the door it was as if there was an explosion of loud noise. It hurt my ears.
I strode down the hallways, leaving a trail of dead bodies behind. Blood was on the walls and the floor.
Finally I stepped into Algarr’s throne room, where everyone was partying and dancing and drinking and whatnot. There was a disco ball at the ceiling. There was a stage with some Zeltron and Twi’lek chicks dancing on it. There were lots of guards. Algarr sat on his throne, eating disgusting things.
I raised my guns and opened fire. Even the screaming was drowned out by that kriffing music.
And finally, only Algarr and I remained, among a bunch of dead bodies, in a river of blood. Hatred burned inside me and my ice-cold blue eyes were fixed on the slug. I let my left gun slide back into the holster and with my left hand I pulled back the hood, revealing my face.
‘Remember me?’ I growled.
[Who are you!?] Algarr cried.
‘Francis Kayna, son of Owen Kayna.’ I reached into my coat with my left hand and revealed the datapad. I tossed it to the Hutt and the video of the murder of my father and his friends appeared on the screen. The Hutt looked at me. He looked rather shocked.
[Are you here for revenge?]
‘Aye.’ I raised the gun in my right hand and aimed it at the head of the filthy slug. ‘But before I pull this trigger, I need to know a few things. First of all; do you remember me?’
Algarr was silent for a while and just stared at me. Finally he nodded and said: [Yes, I do. You are Owen’s son.]
‘And why have you murdered my father!? WHY!?’
[Because…] Algarr began, [because he had stolen a few old Sith artifacts from me. He thought I didn’t know! I decided to kill him for that.]
I glared at Algarr for a while, until I had enough of that ugly creature. I felt the anger boiling up inside me and I pulled the trigger. Algarr’s head exploded in bits of blood and gore and that shit covered the wall behind the slug. The body fell off the throne and then I drew my other gun as well. I aimed at the body and shot it to pieces, until there was absolutely nothing left of it. And then I aimed the guns at the ceiling and I fired the guns. I continued to shoot at everything around me. Dead bodies; the walls; the floor; the bar. It didn’t matter. I cried and screamed and bathed in river of blood.
IX
Werner looked at me. He’d not said a word the entire time I was telling him my story. I closed my eyes and let my head fall back to the wall behind me.
‘What did you do after the reckoning?’ Werner asked me, his voice was almost a whisper. As if he wanted to be very careful… It was the kind of voice you’d speak with when you didn’t want to wake someone. A soft, careful whisper.
‘I left Nar Shaddaa,’ I told him. ‘I took off with my vessel and I traveled the galaxy together with R9-J4. I became a smuggler, just like my dad. One day, I got this package of Sith holocrons I had to smuggle into Alliance space. The Sith caught me, and now I’m here.’
Werner nodded. ‘I see,’ he said. ‘And… forgive me, but I am curious, what happened to your mother?’
‘My mother?’ I asked. I was surprised. I glanced at Werner and just shrugged. ‘I don’t know. I never knew her. When I asked my father about her he always told me that he’d tell me when I was older.’
‘So, he never told you?’
‘No.’
Again there was a silence. We just stared in front of ourselves, dreaming of a way to escape this vessel. Sometimes a stormtrooper walked by the force field. Sometimes another trooper came to check up on us, from behind the force field. Then, finally, Werner asked me another question. One that shocked me.
‘What about women?’
I looked at the Devaronian, but I didn’t answer the question. I shook my head and the grin on his face quickly disappeared. He raised an eyebrow, but I guess he got the hint. He didn’t ask any further.
And so we sat there, inside that cell. We didn’t talk much from that point on, because there wasn’t much to talk about. I could’ve asked Werner to tell me his story, but I didn’t. I wasn’t interested. I’m not even sure why I told him my story… maybe because he was a total stranger. It actually felt kind of good to tell my story to someone other than R9, who could only respond with beeps and bloops.
At some point I fell asleep. I woke up to a loud voice; someone was shouting at me to get up. When I opened my eyes I saw an Imperial officer standing on the other side of the force cage. Werner was nowhere to be seen and that shocked me. What if something had happened to the man? What if they’d taken him to the torture chamber? Well, I’d never find out. I never saw the man again.
I did as the officer said. I got on my feet and a second later a trooper lowered the force field. Two other troopers entered my cell, armed with E-11s, and then I was escorted out of the prison bay.
They brought me to the Sith Master of this ship…
X
He was a tall, scary man, clad in a dark robe. He stood up from his throne once I entered the room and he looked at me with a devilish smile on his face—that smile was all I could see of his face, for the rest was shrouded in his hood. I stood there before him, the troopers flanked me and watched over me. If I’d make any sudden moves, I’d be dead. I knew that.
‘Welcome,’ the Sith Master said. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or not, but I think he was, ‘did you sleep well, Mr. Kayna?’
‘What the kriff do you expect?’ I muttered under my breath. I quickly glanced around the room to see if his apprentice—the guy who caught me on Tatooine and brought me to this vessel—was here as well. I didn’t see him. I don’t know where he was at the time.
‘You’ve been taken here for a reason,’ the Sith Master said. He folded his hands behind his back. ‘You are a smuggler. A successful smuggler at that. It’s no shame my apprentice has caught you, for my apprentice is one of the best hunters in the galaxy. Now, we didn’t capture you because we want you dead, or because there’s a bounty on your head. We captured you because we want you to work for us.’
That was a surprise. I raised both my eyebrows. My pale blue eyes shimmered in the faint light cast from the lamps on the ceiling. I formed the words with my mouth, but I didn’t actually speak: Excuse me?
The Sith Master chuckled. ‘Yes, we want you to work for us, Francis Kayna. We need a good pilot to smuggle contraband for us. To supply our covert operations and military forces who are stationed outside our Empire. You know how to do this. You are an expert. We will offer you a large sum of money, every month, if you accept.’
‘And if I don’t, ye kill me, eh?’ I said. It might have sounded like one, but I can assure you that it was not a question.
The Sith Master spread his hands: Indeed we will.
‘Kriff…’ I muttered. I couldn’t say “no” to this one. As much as I hated the Sith Empire and everything that had to do with the Empire, I just couldn’t refuse this. If I did, I’d die. I ran a hand through my long, black hair and let out a sigh. Finally, I told him: ‘I don’t have much choice.’
‘So, you’ll do it?’
‘Aye. How much?’ I said.
‘Ten-thousand credits a month. Is that reasonable?’
That was more than I ever earned. ‘That’s very reasonable,’ I said. Arguing with this guy was the same as refusing his offer. I’d die.
‘Very well,’ the Sith said. ‘My men will escort you to the hangar. You will find your ship there. Refueled and repaired. We upgraded your shields as well. Your astromech droid is onboard the vessel. He was a pain for my workers, but my workers managed to get their work done. You will also find a new associate on your vessel. I will say no more. Go now, Francis Kayna. There’s a datapad on the table in the main room of your ship with your new assignment.’
I wanted to ask more questions. I wanted to know who my associate was. I wanted to know what the assignment was about. But the troopers grabbed me by the shoulders and dragged me out of the room. They escorted me to the hangar where my ship was docked, and once I stepped into that hangar, I found out that the real trouble had only just begun.
O, yes, things had only just started to get complicated.
XI
Kori and I had worked together for quite some time, until the Sith basically fired us and we were on our own -- free to do whatever the hell we wanted. We decided to split up and go our separate ways rather than stay together, but sometimes I still find myself wondering why we decided on that. Had we stayed together, things might've actually worked out for us... But then, I reckon we're just not meant to be. I don't know.
I work as a freelancer now. Smuggle stuff, but also as a courier. Y'know, some legal business to cover up the illegal shit. I wonder if I'll ever see her again, but... I guess not. The galaxy's a big place, after all.
R9-J4
Astromech Droid
A cocky astromech droid of the R9-series. He’s accompanied Fran for as long as Fran can remember. The droid knows Fran’s ship, the Star Strider, in and out and often works on the maintenance of the ship. The only person he really listens to is Francis. He will go against everything someone else wants him to do. Many find this little fellow a nasty, annoying droid, but to Fran he is a loyal companion and friend.
The Star Strider
The Star Strider—an YT-2400 light freighter—belonged to Francis’ father, Owen Kayna. Owen and his crew used the ship for smuggling operations. Owen acquired the ship in a game of sabacc. Fran continued to use the ship, after Owen’s death, for his own smuggling operations. The ship is heavily modified with strong shields, strong cannons and powerful engines.
Crew
- Fran Kayna (Captain)
- R9-J4 (Astromech droid, maintenance, co-pilot)
Last edited by a moderator:
