All righty, this is the place to add short stories, vignettes, novels or whatever you like. They should be based in the LICC setting but are really expandable to anything you like. And yes, there's a fiction page on the Archive site, but this is a little more accessible and quick, isit not?

Since no one has seen fit to place something here, I believe I shall start. This is a short short story written about two years ago, detailing one of Observer's missions in time.

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"Mr. Harmon! Mr. Harmon sir! Are you there?" comes the shout from outside the dusty workshop.

"Here, Joshua! Come in!" comes the response from inside the mass of tubing and boilers within. Golden sunlight streams through dirty windows into the dingy workshop, where tables are filled with cast-off pieces of machinery and various tools.

A slight young man of about 20 comes in, well-to-do looking, carrying gloves and cane, hair fashionably mussed. He has a bright curious look in his eyes, but his expression is one of puzzlement.

"Mr. Harmon?"

A clank from inside the machinery, and then a man squeezes his way out. He is dressed in very average clothes, trousers, shirtsleeves and a vest, but he is so dusty and dirty it is impossible to tell much about his age or appearance. He does, however have much the same bright expression as the younger man.

"Ah, Joshua, right on time, as usual." The older man instinctively offers his filthy hand in greeting, but withdraws it just in time, with an apologetic nod. "Ah, yes." He picks up a rag to wipe his hands on. "Well, my boy, how's she look?"

Joshua eyes the pile of machinery with trepidation. "Mr. Harmon, I'd say she looks fine, if I knew what I was looking at."

Harmon laughs, and waves him over to one end of the shop. On a small table rests an odd object, a wheel mounted on a trapedoidal foundation. The older man takes a hose from the jumble of machinery and fastens it into the foundation. "My boy, we are about to witness history. You've heard of perpetual motion?"

Joshua barely has time to gape before Harmon throws a switch, sending the machinery into motion. A hissing noise is heard, and the wheel begins to go round and round, eventually reaching amazing speeds. Then all at once, Harmon yanks the hose out, and closes the switch again. The machinery grinds to a halt, but the wheel continues to turn...and turn...and turn, showing no signs of stopping.

"Sir! Y-y-you can't tell me that you've harnessed...have you tested it?"

Harmon grins, and directs Joshua's attention to a table in a dark corner of the shop. On it another wheel spins, this one jury-rigged to a common clock face, providing a crude but quick means of measuring the speed of the wheel.

"Joshua, this wheel has been spinning in place for three and a half days. I've taken measurements on the hour, every hour. This wheel has not slowed down a fraction since I set it turning."

Joshua simply stares. The holy grail of engineering. "Sir, we must rush this to the Patent Ministry straightaway. The implications--"

Harmon waves away his words. "Aye, boy, the implications are very clear to me. But I still need to test it more. I'm sure you'll help me with that, and when we do act on this, we will be rich beyond the dreams of avarice."

The younger man can't help the giddy smile from spreading across his face. Harmon shakes his hand, then looks to the clock in the corner. "Now, boy, you best be getting home or your mother will worry. Come back bright and early tomorrow and we'll get to work on it. And remember, tell NO ONE."

Joshua stammers. "Oh y-y-yes Mr. Harmon sir you can be sure of that, thank you sir good day."

A few more moments and a last look at the golden machine, and the overexcited youngster is safely out the door. Harmon closes the door and leans against it, smiling. As the sound of hooves clopping comes from outside, the smile evaporates. Harmon hastily snatches a large metal can from near the machine, and begins pouring a dark liquid all around the walls of the shop. He pours a little on the machine, and the rest on the wheels, before casting the can aside. A match retrieved from a pocket, ignites, and...

"What is the point of all this trickery, Observer? He cannot have believed in this discovery. The Laws of Thermodynamics.." The voice comes from a very dark corner of the shop.

Observer gives the voice an irritated look, shakes out the match, and turns to face the dark corner. "The Laws of Thermodynamics has not been discovered yet, Ezhurok."

The voice comes again. "But why make him believe in something that is not possible?"

"Simply because this will motivate him more than anything else to try to recreate the experiment. He will not succeed, but the engine that results from his experimentation will revolutionize the world. He must not realize it is impossible, because serendipity often stems from trying to achieve the impossible."

A longish pause, then...

"It still seems a foolish notion."

Observer sighs. "You still have much to learn, Ezhurok." Another match is struck, and dropped to the petrol-soaked floor. In seconds the workshop is engulfed in a conflagration, but neither the dirty inventor nor the source of the voice...are anywhere to be seen.

-----

I've had this story on the backburner for a while. I just finished tweaking the prologue the other day which is kind of strange since the prologue is basically just a rewrite of a post I made at the beginning of the Author storyline. Anyway, I decided to make a story showing where Rikard was during the Authors storyline. I also wanted to put him into a situation where he's the star, since I've never really done that, and also expand a little bit (probably a very very little bit) on his feelings and reactions to recent events at the time, esp. the "deaths" of Tacoman, Adon, and Artsy.

Now that I've filled in plenty of useless background info, onto the prologue. Hopefully more will come over the winter.

Those of Shadows
By Josh Mastin

Time Placement: LICC3, during the Authors storyline.

Prologue

The black of space stretched on forever. At least, that was how it often seemed. Large, dark, unchanging, interrupted only by little points of light, rocks, ships, and in one case, a small shuttle flying at warp. The shuttle's lone occupant slept as his vessel headed for its destination. Back to his ship, back to his friends and colleagues, back to work.

Beeping from the computer brought Commander Joshua Lucas Rikard out of his sleep with a start. He glanced over the controls in the shuttle's small cockpit, searching for the origin of the computer's alert. His search quickly ended as a red flashing light with the purpose of catching his attention did just that. Proximity alert. He'd be back at the Spidership in a matter of minutes. Back to his duties with the League: first officer, helm, CO of several pilots-.

Pilots. That's why he'd been gone. He'd gone back to Earth to attend the funerals of his dead pilots from the fighter squadron under his command. He'd left pretty quickly, leaving mere minutes after getting his old captain to come back from the afterlife. He'd been unable to talk at the time, but he didn't need to talk to pilot a shuttle. Plus, he couldn't think of any better way to spend a day where he couldn't say a word without risking death than by spending it alone on a multiple day trip across the cosmos. And he got to see Earth. It was always nice to go home, despite the frequent trips he'd had back in his time with the LICC. He'd even been able to take care of some unfinished business there.

This train of thought was interrupted when another light, this one orange, began flashing. The shuttle was coming out of warp. As it did, the stars became their normal points again and Rikard immediately saw the beautiful, sleek, and powerful Spidership, the flagship of the Department of Superheroics. That's what some people claimed, anyway.

"It's good to be home," he said, pressing the controls to hail the Spidership. He was a little surprised when no one from ship responded. He tried again, getting the same results as before. After two more attempts, he was beginning to get frustrated.

"What the-? Why aren't they responding?" he asked no one in particular.

"Restate question," the computer responded in its feminine monotone.

Rikard shook his head. "Nothing. Never mind. Computer, are there any life forms in the Spidership's landing bay?"

"Negative."

“Good, link to the Spider’s computer,” he ordered.

“Link established.” Rikard smiled, pleased that this was going to smoothly. Something had to be up.

“Open the doors, authorization Rikard Pi Theta Purple Beta People Omega Eaters.”

“Authorization confirmed. Doors responding,” the computer informed him. The doors to one of the Spidership’s landing bays were indeed opening. Rikard slowly flew the shuttle into the seemingly abandoned bay and landed it with a soft clank.

“Well,” he again said to himself, “what better way find out if it’s a trap than by walking right into it?” Standing up, he drew his pistol and grabbed another one from a small storage cubby in the shuttle. Realizing that he was about as ready as he could be, Rikard lowered the ramp and cautiously walked out.

“Hello?” he called out as his foot touched the deck. As soon as it did, everything went black.

Hmmm, looks like I posted the wrong username up there.

Twice in a row.

Those of Shadows

Chapter 1: Dreams

“How is he, Doctor?”

“He’s fine, sir. He suffered minor side effects from the transport, but nothing of concern. It worked as we hoped it would.”

In the void, Rikard heard them, like echoes. They were warped and distorted, but he could still tell what the voices were saying.

“Good. Call me when he wakes.”
“Actually, sir, I can wake him now.” There was a pause.
“Do it.”

Rikard felt energy rush through him. He became aware that something was pushing on his back. It didn’t take him long to realize that he was lying down, on a bed if he could still trust his senses. He slowly opened his eyes. He was in an almost overwhelmingly white hospital room. Two men stood over him, watching him like sentinels. He hadn’t dreamed the voices up after all. One of the men, the taller and younger of the two though at least 15 years older than Rikard, spoke to him.

“Commander Joshua Rikard?” he asked.

“Yeah,” Rikard feebly croaked. The man pulled out an ID, displaying it for Rikard to see.

“Robert Wilkins, Earth System Intelligence. This is Doctor Norton,” he said indicating the older man standing beside him, “Thank you for your assistance, Doctor. That will be all for now.” Norton nodded and quickly shuffled out of the room. Rikard cautiously began to sit up and, feeling no ill effects, sat up the rest of the way.

“Where am I? What happened? I was just on-”

“The Spidership,” Wilkins finished for him, “Yes, we pulled you from there. You’re now in a Terran Starfleet base near Gamma Crucis.”

“What? You flew me here?”

“Not exactly,” Wilkins said as he gestured toward the door, “Come with me, Commander. I’ll explain.” Rikard flipped the sheets up, seeing that he was still in his uniform, and followed Wilkins out of the room, into a dimmer, greyer corridor.

“Shortly after you returned to the Spidership,” Wilkins explained as he walked slightly ahead of Rikard, “we teleported you to this facility. Specifically, we did it as soon as you stepped off of your shuttle.”

“What? You transported me to Gamma Crucis? From the Spidership?” Rikard asks with a disbelieving expression on his face, “How is that possible?”

“It’s possible with a device that the ESG recently authorized us to use: a long distance transporter. It’s capable of taking someone across vast interstellar distances in seconds,” Wilkins paused for a second before continuing, “While the transporter has been tested and proven to be safe for organic transport, it’s still a very new piece of equipment. Right now it renders the transported passenger unconscious. Plus, it takes a massive amount of energy to operate. At this point, it still takes five days to build up the right amount between transports. We used it on you because we needed you here ASAP.”

Wilkins stopped at a dark grey door, identical to most in the corridor. Rikard could see through windows flanking the door on both sides that an office lay beyond. Wilkins pushed a few buttons on the door’s control panel and a small red light switched to a nearby green one. The door slid open and Wilkins ushered Rikard into the office. Rikard walked in and stopped abruptly when he saw the window behind the office’s desk. He’d noticed the window outside, but he hadn’t looked closely at it. Now he saw that through it was a spectacular view of a brown and orange gas giant, circled by large, rocky rings.

“Have a seat, Commander,” Wilkins said, pointing to the office’s only chair besides his own. Rikard moved to sit.

“So, why was it so urgent that I be here?” he asked

“I’ll get straight to the point, Commander,” Wilkins replied, “We need someone stopped and at the moment you’re the most qualified man to do it.”

“Someone stopped?” Rikard repeated.

“That’s right,” Wilkins said as he slipped a PADD across the shiny black desk. On it was a picture of an old man. He was human, bald with a long crooked nose and skin that looked like it was just about ready to fall off. Under the picture was the name....

“Lord Balarice,” Wilkins explained, “The leader of the cult calling themselves the Shadow Liberation. He’s wanted by 18 different governments, including ours and the Galactic Order. For years he’s stayed hidden. We’ve hardly heard anything. We were beginning to hope that he was dead. However, three days ago we received word of Shadow activities in the Huntara System.”

Rikard narrowed his eyes. “Huntara?”

Wilkins nodded. “It’s in the Nonaligned Worlds, about 30 light years outside of Terran-controlled space. The SL had a base there as well as several members. Questioning took a while, but they eventually revealed Balarice’s plans. They told us that Balarice is constructing something at another of the Shadow’s bases. We’re unfortunately not sure where the base is, but we do know what he’s creating.” Wilkins paused for a moment. Too long for Rikard.

“What? What’s he making?” he asked. Wilkins sighed.

“A weapon. A Dark Force weapon,” he answered, “When completed it will be capable of entering the minds of multiple victims, where it will destroy them by driving each individual into insanity followed shortly by death. A few of our agents experienced the prototype firsthand. It was not a pretty encounter.”

“When you say multiple, you mean how many?” Rikard asked.

“Details about that are sketchy,” Wilkins replied as he wiped his brow, “but we believe that this thing could attack and entire planet’s sentient population in minutes, killing everyone on it within a day.”

Rikard sat, his expression unreadable. “So, you want me to find this guy, his base, his weapon, and his cult and bring them all down?”

Wilkins nodded. “That’s right,” he said.

“Is there a reason you didn’t call the entire LICC in to do this?” Rikard asked, sounding skeptical.

Wilkins shook his head. “Too high profile. Balarice would know if we sent your entire group after him. He’d be gone before any of you made it to, well, whatever system he’s in.”

Rikard leaned back, thinking. “Why me then?” he asked, “Why not the Observer? He’s more powerful, not to mention experienced in infiltration as well as with the Force.”

Wilkins shook his head again, as if it could do nothing else.

“Several of my colleagues believed that you were the best man for the job. That, and you’re available. Your shipmates on the other hand…,” his voice trailed off.

“What?” Rikard asked, “What about them?”

“Not important,” Wilkins answered.

“Not important?” Rikard repeated to him, “It’s important to me!”

“You’ll learn soon enough, Commander. We’re still getting details in from our man monitoring your organization. First we finish this briefing, all right?” Rikard, clearly agitated, nodded.

“Good. Okay, yes, hunting Balarice down is your mission. But, you will get help.” Wilkins slid another PADD across the desk. Rikard picked it up with an eyebrow raised. On it was a picture of a young human male, probably about Rikard’s age, maybe even younger.

“Former EarthSysIntel agent Robert Porta. He was probably going to be an exemplary agent until a miscalculation on his part led to the deaths of over 600 people,” Wilkins explained, “He unfortunately panicked and fled Terran Space after the incident. Our sources told us that he’s worked several jobs since, some dodgier than others. Mercenary, smuggler, cargo hauler: he’s been pretty busy. We haven’t caught up to him yet, but his last known location was Cartileen Prime. All other information you’ll need on him is in that PADD.” Wilkins paused again, sighing before continuing, “Now, about the League.”

“Yeah, about them,” Rikard said irritably.

“A lot has happened since you left. Your captain and second officer came back.”

“I was there for that, thanks,” Rikard said.

“That’s all I actually know off the top of my head. I do know the man who will know the rest. Computer,” Wilkins said, looking up at nothing in particular, “what is Ensign Hyland’s location?”

“Ensign Hyland is in Monitor Lab 6,” the computer responded in a cool feminine voice.

Good job so far.

The mention of a long-range transporter reminded me of the transporter used on Robot Redshirt when I decided to bring him back to LICC. Although I suspect that that was a much greater distance (a whole other galaxy IIRC).

Interesting, Josh.

the transporter used on Robot Redshirt
It was a prototype of the Really Long Distance Transporter on LICC 3 Board III.

Those of Shadows

Chapter 2: And The Bad News Is...

Author’s Note: Forgive any melodrama

Time Placement: LICC 3, during the Authors storyline.



It only took a few minutes for Wilkins and Rikard to reach Lab 6. The lab was much darker than Rikard had imagined, and it was filled with computer terminals, most with workers of various species hunched over the colorful screens.

“Hyland!” Wilkins yelled upon entering. Immediately, a young, skinny kid scurried up to the two.

“Agent Wilkins, sir, hello, how can I help you, sir?”
Wilkins grunted an acknowledgement before going on, “This is Commander Rikard. He’s from the LICC.

Hyland nodded, a little excited. “Oh, of course,” he said, shaking Rikard’s hand.

“A pleasure,” Rikard said.

“You said that there were some new developments concerning the Spidership a couple of hours ago,” Wilkins said expectantly. Hyland’s face fell and he nervously ran his hand through his dark hair as he nodded.

“Yeah, I did. You see, we’re, uh, not exactly sure what’s, um, happened out there. Just another weird day, right?” Hyland smiled, but the expressions of the other two men did not let it last.

“What’s happened this time?” Rikard inquired.

“Uh, well, the crew’s disappeared,” Hyland said. Rikard just blinked.

“It’s what?” he and Wilkins said simultaneously.

“The crew’s gone, though they have been replaced by several unidentified humans,” Hyland reported. Rikard shook his head in disbelief.

“Typical day,” he said, almost grinning.

“You’re not concerned?” Wilkins asked.

“I’m sure whatever’s happened,” Rikard said, “They’ll work through it. They are the LICC.” Hyland smiled at that, then his expression soured again.

“Um, there’s something else, sir.”

“What?” Rikard and Wilkins asked, again in unison.

“A few hours ago, we detected an odd energy signature on the ship. Supernatural energy. Apparently, some kind of being was there. One we’d never encountered before,” Hyland said tentatively.

“A being?” Rikard asked.

“Yes,” Hyland said, “It was obviously very powerful. It changed the structure of the ship, among other things. Your crewmates did manage to get rid of it, but not before…” he trailed off.

“Before what, Ensign?” Rikard asked, “Before WHAT?!?!” he repeated with more intensity.

“One of your crewmates was fighting it. Artsy-Fartsy, I think it was,” he paused, looking at a PADD he’d been holding, “Yeah, it was her.”

“Is she okay?” Rikard pressed. Hyland paused again. Too long.

“Our agent monitoring,” Hyland spoke before Rikard could say anything again, “lost her bio sign.”

Rikard shook his head. “Lost her bio sign? Wait a second, doesn’t that mean she’s…?”

Hyland nodded. “Yes sir. Our man confirmed it. She’s dead, sir.” Josh froze. Hyland could not have said what he’d just heard him say.

“Dead?” he asked, almost unbelieving.

“I’m sorry, Commander,” Wilkins said, putting a hand on Rikard’s shoulder. Rikard barely heard him. For a moment all he could hear was his own breathing, and his heart, as if it was beating just inside his ears.

“Sorry, could you excuse me for a moment?” Rikard asked Wilkins. Wilkins had hardly nodded before Rikard was gone, out the door of the dark room and briskly walking down the corridor to a nearby lift. It was empty.

“Um, Level 9,” he choked out after going over the map inside the doors. The lift started moving.

“Halt lift,” Rikard said a few seconds later, well before it could reach its destination. For a few seconds he paced the small space, staring at the ground. Then he suddenly stopped, looked up at the lift’s ceiling, and he howled. He yelled at the top of his lungs, the roar easily filling the small lift. It lasted for quite some time before he stopped it as suddenly as he had started it. Rikard realized that his hand was balled into a fist, resting against the lift’s metal wall, and in pain. He’d have to get that looked at. He took a deep breath as he looked around the small lift. If he’d been there, maybe….

What? he thought, what could you have done?

Maybe she’d still be alive, he thought.

You didn’t prevent Adon’s death. Or Tacoman’s, he thought, what makes you think you could’ve done something?

There’s still the chance. The possibility. If I’d been there, I could’ve helped. If I hadn’t left-.

“You weren’t there, Josh,” he heard himself say; “There’s nothing you could do. You weren’t there.” And you have to accept that, he thought.

Rikard rode the lift back up. When the doors opened, Wilkins was waiting for him.

“You all right, Commander?” Wilkins asked.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Josh responded, “I just needed to let off a little steam.”

“Were you and she…?”

“No,” Rikard said, “No, she was a friend. A good one, but that was it.”

Wilkins nodded, understanding. “Can you proceed with the mission?” he asked, “Because if you can’t-.”

“No, I’m fine. It’s just been a tough day.” Rikard began walking back to Wilkins’ office.

Wilkins shook his head as he watched him go. Quite the understatment.

Wonder if I could retroactively feature Rouse and Biggles' author in the Authors storyline? BTW, that has to be my favourite of all the LICC storylines.

You can take my place, Thande.

Hmmm, mention of what happened to Artsy, mention of what happened to the crew, but no mention of what happened to Vice-President Absurd?
(Yeah, yeah, I haven't finished that LICCfic yet. ;-)

Are you talking about when Absurd disappeared? Because I couldn't find any mention of that around that point in time.

No, this is a silly storyline I first thought about doing in LICC 2, but we'd had too many Earthcentric stories, then I asked if there was any interest in doing short silly story around the time of Adon & Tacoman's funeral & there was zero interest.

However I liked the idea & set it at the funeral. I think the Timeline makes reference to a story then & there was a Lt. First post that referenced it as well.

Without giving away too much Mr. Absurd was involved in a transporter incident after LICC went to the land of the dead, but before Enesku & Artsy summoned Mary Worth.

That's good stuff, Josh.

Those of Shadows

Chapter 3: Soggy Reception

Time Placement: LICC 3, during the Authors storyline.

Cartileen Prime. Rikard could see it as soon as his shuttle returned to sublight. It was just a small brown dot from this distance, a dot sitting in front a much farther, much brighter one. As the ship approached the largest of the three inhabited planets in the Cartileen System, Rikard couldn’t help but dwell on how similar they all looked from this distance. Every floating, spherical rock; they all had the same basic appearance. Yet each one had something different in store for those who ventured to them. This one, apparently, had the man who would be key to taking down a Sith.

“Not a Sith,” he said out loud to himself, “just a super powered maniac.” The trip hadn’t taken long, less than three days, in fact. Still, three days for Rikard to again be alone with his thoughts. He was getting tired of it. Tired of wondering how he’d complete this mission, tired of ruminating how he’d find the man for whom he’d come to this planet, tired of thinking about his friends on the Spidership, having no idea how they were handling their current situation. With flying colors, no doubt. He nevertheless hoped that Robert Porta would be an interesting conversationalist.

The voice of one of the planet’s many Orbital Control officers brought Rikard back to reality, “Unknown vessel, you have entered the fly space of Cartileen Prime. Please transmit your identification.” He hadn’t even realized that he’d opened a channel. He quickly uploaded the information into the computer, and transmitted. For a moment, there was only silence, as Rikard waited for a response.

The voice spoke. “Thank you Mr. Piker, you have been cleared to land at the Clear Horizons Spaceport in Lebtarak City. The necessary information is being sent to your computer. Welcome to Cartileen Prime and enjoy your stay.”

“Thanks,” Rikard said. He was surprised by the professionalism he detected behind the voice. Not something one expects for a planet like this one, he thought. The planets of the Cartileen System were known for being dodgy, and the biggest of the three was no exception. It was, in fact, the model from which the other two were compared.

“This should be fun,” Rikard sarcastically remarked as his small shuttle descended into a thick group of rain clouds.


______________________________________________________________________________________


For a major urban area, Lebtarak City was pretty dark. At least the area that held Clear Horizons Spaceport was dark. Despite being crowded, not very well lit, and sporting architecture that had clearly seen better days, Rikard was feeling better than he had in days. He enjoyed the feeling of the rain on his uncovered head. It had been a while since he’d felt any real, pouring rain. It was about the only thing Rikard found remotely pleasing about the planet. He was often amazed at some of the places in the galaxy where sentient beings tried to scrape out a living. Cartileen Prime easily fit into that category.

Rikard continued through the run-down city. He passed an abundance of alien species, and the occasional human, as he walked to his destination. Most didn’t look up as they hustled through the chilly night, and those that did gave only fleeting glances. Soon, Rikard stood under a bright, metal sign. On it were the words “The Green Dagger”, superimposed over a picture of a knife pointing down, toward him. He’d reached his destination. The information EarthSysIntel had provided believed that Porta frequented the Dagger, a local dive. Rikard stood at the entrance for a second before he went in.

It was even darker inside the bar than it was outside, and a smoky haze hung over the large room. There wasn’t much that distinguished this hole from every other one in the known galaxy. A bar at one end, a couple dozen tables and booths, games of every kind, and eight different vidscreens showing telecasts from all over the galaxy, including one from the Terrans. Though it wasn’t too crowded, there were still a sizeable number of individuals inside. Rikard scanned the room, seeing a handful of humans, but not finding the man he’d come to get. Unsurprised, but still disappointed, Rikard made his way to the bar.

“So, what’ll you have?” asked the bartender, a balding middle-aged human. Rikard thought for a moment, looking at his choices.

“Give me a Nesaovian Ale,” Rikard ordered. The bartender provided, and Rikard took a sip, nodding in satisfaction at the bitter taste. “Busy night,” he remarked.

“Not really,” the bartender replied, “It’s the middle of the week. This place really picks up during the Off Period.” The work week on Cartileen Prime consisted of eight days followed by a four day “off period”, Cartileen’s equivalent to a weekend.

“When does that roll around?” Rikard asked the bartender.

“It’s the sixth day right now,” he replied, “So it’ll be a few. When that happens, this place tends to explode. Personally, I like the peace and quiet of the week.” Rikard nodded. He understood that feeling.

“So, you a spacer then?” asked the bartender, “You’re not from around here.” His second statement was not a question.

“I’ve seen a few places,” Rikard answered, sipping his drink and trying not to give too much away.

“Been to Terran space lately? Any of the aligned worlds? Earth?” the bartender continued.

“Once or twice,” Rikard said absentmindedly. The guy was asking a lot of questions.

“D*mn, I miss that place,” the bartender said, longing in his voice, “I haven’t seen it for years. It still as beautiful as I remember?”

“It’s had its ups and downs,” Rikard replied, “But it’s a diamond compared to this place.”

“No kidding,” the bartender agreed, “Makes me wonder why you’d want to come here.” So that was it. He wanted information. Something Rikard needed badly as well. Maybe this could work to his advantage.

“Actually, I’m looking for someone. Maybe you know him,” Rikard said, pulling a holocard out of his jacket. He flicked it on, showing the bartender the picture of Robert Porta. “You know this guy?”

“Uh, no, can’t say I do,” the bartender stammered. It was clear from the guy’s surprise and quick response that he wasn’t being completely honest. Josh would have to follow up on that. He’d let it go for now. “Why’re you looking for him?” the bartender asked.

“He’s an old friend,” Rikard said, finishing his drink, “Can I get another one of these?”

“Yeah, sure,” the bartender said shakily. He quickly moved off to make another. Something about Porta made this guy nervous. Hopefully, Rikard would learn what it was.

“Looking for something, stranger?” A voice interrupted Rikard’s thoughts. He turned and was surprised by what he saw. The voice belonged to a striking Granacean female. She was slender but well built with long dark hair pulled back behind her head. The bar’s illumination glinted off of her light purple skin. Rikard had suddenly discovered that there was something else that he liked about this planet after all.

“Up here, spacer,” she said indicating her deep, dark eyes; “I couldn’t help but overhear that you were looking for someone.” The bartender returned with Rikard’s drink. As he turned away he glanced at the Granacean. Rikard thought he picked up a hint of contempt in the barkeep’s eyes.

“What about it?” he asked her.

“I know who it is you’re looking for,” she replied, crossing her arms, “And I know how to find him. I can lead you to him, if you’d like.”

“But…?” She clearly wanted something in return.

“But, you’ll have to do something for me,” she said looking toward the ground, “I need off of this planet. And I want you to take me when you go.”

“Why’s that?” Rikard asked.

“Let’s just say that I’m not too popular with some of the local bigwigs,” she explained, sounding more annoyed than nervous, “They think that I owe them.”

“Do you?” he asked.

“No,” she replied, raising her voice, “They’re trying to take advantage. It’s just me here. I’ve got no one watching my back and they know it. I owed them before, but I’ve repaid every single one of their ‘favors’,” Rikard noticed the emphasis she put on the last word, “but they won’t let up. I’m sick of this moldy rock anyway. So what do you say?”

“Uh, I’m not sure I can do that,” Rikard answered honestly.

“You can drop me anywhere you want,” she suggested. She was starting to sound desperate. “I just need to get away from here. And I know that you can do it. You have a ship, don’t you?”

“Yes….”

“Then what’s the problem?” she asked, getting testy.

“The problem is, I don’t know you,” he replied, “Or why you want to get out of here. I don’t even know you’re name.” The Granacean nodded.

“Kelthara,” she said, smiling a little.

“Sean,” Rikard said, extending his hand to her, “Sean Piker”. She took it. It was warm and incredibly soft. “So, Kelthara,” he said as he pulled his hand back, “I get you off of this planet and away from these people chasing you and you lead me to Porta, that the deal?”

Kelthara nodded, “That’s it.” It sounded simple enough.

“And these guys after you won’t give me any trouble for helping you?” he asked as he took another drink.

“Not if they don’t know that you’re helping me,” she remarked mischievously. Rikard laughed.

“What, they’re not watching your every step? You know, making sure you don’t try to pull a stunt exactly like this one?” he asked. He wasn’t quite buying it.

“Oh, they’re watching me,” Kelthara said, “they’re just not very good at it. They’re not hard to lose, though they eventually always catch up. In fact…” she trailed off. Her gaze had shifted toward the bar’s entrance. Slowly and casually, Rikard turned to look. Two beings, one of them a large, burly human, had just entered.

“Friends of yours?” Rikard asked as he turned back to Kelthara.

“Do we have a deal or not?” she asked, suddenly all business. Rikard was quiet for a moment, swirling his drink around in its glass.

“Yeah,” he whispered, “You bring me to Porta, and you can come with us.”

“Oh? Taking him somewhere?” she asked.

“Actually,” he replied just before he downed his second drink, “I’m hoping he takes me somewhere.”

Nice read!

Those of Shadows

Chapter 4: Target Acquired

Time Placement: LICC3, During the Authors storyline

Kelthara didn’t take Rikard directly to Porta, as he'd hoped she would. He didn’t look forward to spending more time on Cartileen. Kelthara had contacted him again the morning after they had parted ways from the Green Dagger. She’d instructed him to lay low for a few days, and that was exactly what Rikard was doing. For four days Rikard hardly left his motel room. He’d explored the surrounding areas somewhat, but there wasn’t much to see or do in the place where EarthSysIntel had booked him a place to stay. Rikard realized that this was probably a good move, since he wasn’t supposed to attract attention while he was on Cartileen, and putting him in a place where no one wanted to be certainly helped with that.

Kelthara had called him at the end of the third day to remind him that they’d be contacting Porta soon and to reassure him that she was still around. On the fourth night, however, he didn’t get a call. Instead, someone rapped quietly on his room’s door. Rikard was relieved to find out that it was Kelthara, in person.

“Tonight’s the night,” she murmured, looking up and down the hallway with a flicker of apprehension on her face.

“Okay, I’ll just be a minute,” Rikard replied,
“You can come in if you’d like.” Kelthara entered the small, dank room and waited while Rikard threw on a long dark coat, a pair of black boots, and clipped his lightsaber to his belt, his only weapon that Clear Horizons hadn’t made him leave with his ship. It was likely that they hadn't realized what it was or even if they did, that they didn't care. There were very few around who were skilled at using them effectively.

“Lead the way,” he said, gesturing toward the door. The pair of them left the building and stepped out into another dark and rainy Cartileen night. Rikard grimaced as cold air slammed into him, but he followed Kelthara down the road. The rain seemed to be keeping many pedestrians indoors as the sidewalks had very few individuals. The road, however, had a good deal of traffic and Rikard couldn’t help but wish that he was sitting in one of the passing vehicles at that moment rather than following Kelthara to wherever she was taking him in the heavy storm.

They walked almost half an hour before Kelthara finally came to a stop and pulled back the hood of her coat. The light from a street lamp hanging over them reflected off of her shiny dark hair and smooth skin.

“This is it,” she said, indicating a nearby door, “He’s always here on the tenth.”

“What if he’s not?” Rikard asked.

“He will be,” Kelthara assured him, “All alone at the bar. He always is.” Rikard nodded and headed for the door. He grabbed the handle but stopped when he realized that Kelthara hadn’t moved.

“Aren’t you coming?” Rikard asked.

“No,” Kelthara replied, throwing her hood back over her head, “It’s better if you ask him without me around. He and I aren’t exactly close.” Rikard nodded. He could tell that there was more she wasn’t telling him. He wondered if it had something to do with whoever else was after her. I'll have to ask her about that, he thought.

“I’ll wait for you over there,” she continued, pointing at a dark doorway that was nearby, “Try not to be too long.”

“I’ll see what I can do,” Rikard said and he turned back to the door and stepped through. He was immediately hit with a blast of warm air. It was nice to be out of the rain. Ahead of him was a flight of stairs leading down to a door, illuminated by a red light. Outside of the door stood a large, insect-like individual, undoubtedly the bar’s bouncer. Rikard made his way down the stairs and reached for the door. The bouncer didn’t do a thing to acknowledge his existence so Rikard entered.

Upon entering, Rikard realized what the Green Dagger’s bartender had meant when he’s called it a quiet night four nights before. This club was filled with individuals of many species, both humanoid and not. Loud music filled the large room, mixed in with the hum of conversations in several languages, even some that the translator wasn’t bothering to interpret. Rikard scanned the room and saw a large bar opposite the door surrounded by several conversing sentients. A few were just crouched at the bar, nursing drinks and Rikard recognized the one he’d come to find right away. Robert Porta was light skinned with short, blonde hair, shorter than it had been in the picture provided by EarthSysIntel. Rikard entered the bar’s large crowd, pushing past four humans who were heading for the exit as well as several other beings of all shapes and sizes. Even with the crowd, however, it didn’t take Rikard long to reach the bar. For a second he stood behind Porta, who at first didn’t notice that Rikard was there, but soon turned his head a little to look at him.

“Robert Porta?” Rikard asked.

“Yeah?” Porta asked, turning completely around. The man before Rikard was an aged, wounded reflection of the EarthSysIntel picture. He had a short goatee and a scar along the right side of his jawbone, but it was unmistakably Robert Porta.

“My name’s Sean Piker. I’ve been sent by Earth System Intelligence. I need your help,” he said. God, that sounded rehearsed, he thought.

“Is that so?” Porta responded, taking a drink.

“Uh, yeah, it is,” Rikard answered as if it were a foregone conclusion.

“I think I have a better idea,” Porta answered back, in a tone that Rikard wasn’t liking, “How about you give them a message for me?” Suddenly, Porta’s left hand, which had been resting across his body at his right hip, was swinging at Rikard with a cylinder clutched in its fingers. An orange blade snapped to life out of the cylinder and the lightsaber swung came around toward Rikard’s neck. It stopped short, however, as the orange blade met a silver one. Rikard’s own lightsaber was out, preventing Porta’s from moving any further.

"Don't do that again," Rikard warned him, sounding like a parent scolding their child. For a moment, Porta looked at the blades with interest, before shutting off his own and putting it away. Rikard did the same with his. Rikard noticed that people all around him had moved away. Some had even dropped to the floor and were now picking themselves up and going about their night, as if nothing had happened. Apparently, confrontations that ended violence and death were a common occurrence in this bar.

“I knew I recognized you,” Porta said, putting his saber away and picking up his drink, “‘Piker’. You’re one of those ‘heroes’. Don’t tell me.” He paused, looking Rikard over. “L.I.C.C.”

“That’s right,” Rikard confirmed.

“So why has EarthSysIntel sent a superhero to do its dirty work?” he asked, “When did my stock get that high?”

“They’re trying to find someone,” Rikard explained. He moved to the stool next to Porta, motioning his choice to the barkeep, “Someone dangerous. And they think that you know where he is. Or that you can at least find him.”

“Do they now?” responded Porta, feigning surprise, “And who is it they think I can find?”

“Remember the Shadow Liberation?” Rikard asked, taking a swig of his recently arrived drink. Upon hearing this name, the arrogant front Porta had shown up to this point immediately disappeared and he seemed to go slightly pale.

“Yeah,” he said, his voice almost shaking, “I’ve heard of them.”

“Well, that’s who they want you to find. They want to take out Lord Balarice,” Rikard explained. He made no indication that he’d noticed Porta’s change in demeanor.

“Balarice? ‘Darth Malice’? You’re kidding,” Porta snorted. The arrogance tried to come back, but Porta quickly lost it again. “You’re really going after him?”

“Only if you help me find him,” Rikard answered.

“And what’s in it for me if I do?” he responded. The conceit had returned.

“Full pardon of all charges from the Earth System Government, a new home on a planet that’s,” Rikard paused, looking at his surroundings with a little disgust, “well, that’s better than this place, and some money that’ll help you get back on your feet.”

“If I survive that is,” Porta added, “And what if I decide I don’t want to help you out?”

“Then I take you back to Earth. Intelligence will deal with you,” Rikard replied, apparently beginning to lose his patience, “Don’t think I’m not capable of doing that.” Porta looked Rikard over again. He was probably right. If an LICC wanted to take him out of here, he’d have a difficult time stopping him.
______________________________________________________________________________________

“Take your time, Sean,” Kelthara muttered to herself as she shivered again in the pouring rain. She was starting to regret not going into the bar. It was probably crowded enough for her to hide herself inside anyway. Just the latest in a long line of decisions that didn’t seem to be working out for her. Another shudder from the night’s cold convinced her to risk going into the bar. She left the doorway where she’d been waiting and headed for the entrance to the bar.

As she made her way to the door, a vehicle down the street started up, its lights washing over her. She ignored the vehicle as it pulled up to the curb beside her. As her back was to the car, she didn’t notice that its rear force-window had been deactivated.

“Hello Kelthara,” she heard an oily, but familiar voice say, “And how are you on this beautiful night.” Kelthara slowly turned around to face the vehicle and the man inside.

“What is it Moornan?” she asked, sounding annoyed, but a hint of anxiety crossed her face.

“You owe Quorinar,” Moornan told her playfully, “He’s waiting, you know.”

“I don’t owe him anything,” Kelthara snapped, the anxiety evaporating, “You tell Quorinar that he’s got all he’s going to get.”

“He’s not going to like that,” Moornan replied, suddenly serious, “If I were you-“

“You’re not,” Kelthara interrupted, “And Quorinar is just going to have to live with this. He’s not getting anything else from me.” With that, Kelthara spun around and went for the door that led to the stairway.

“I’m sorry to hear that,” Moornan called after her, not sounding remorseful in the least, “But if it’s you’re decision....” As Kelthara reached for the door’s handle, someone pushed it open from the inside. Four humans emerged, blocking her path and circling her, menacing looks on their faces. Kelthara backed toward the street until she bumped into someone else. She turned to see that it was Moornan. He’d left his vehicle and was holding a nasty looking energy pistol. Two burly humans stood behind him. “He’s not going to like that at all.”


______________________________________________________________________________________


“Listen, Robert,” Rikard said, his patience worn thin, “I don’t have all night. Someone’s waiting for me outsi-“

“Really, who?” Porta asked, perking up.

“It’s not important,” Rikard replied quickly, “What is, though, is whether or not you’ll help me.” Porta stared heavily into what remained of his drink, mulling over his options. After Rikard believed was probably meant to be a dramatic pause, Porta sighed and turned toward Rikard.

“Okay, I’ll help you,” he whispered. He looked around at the dark and crowded bar, “It’s about time I get out of this place anyway.” Rikard nodded. He felt as if an enormous weight had been lifted off of his shoulders. So far, things appeared to be going well.

“Great. We should probably finish this conversation where we’re less likely to be overheard,” Rikard said, his eyes scanning the surrounding crowd, “Besides, Kelthara probably wants to get out of the rain.” Porta whipped his head around, giving Rikard an irritated look.

“Kelthara? Kelthara Raruyitastal? The Granacean?” he asked sounding exasperated. Rikard winced.

“Yeah, why?” he asked, realizing that he probably shouldn’t have let her name slip.

“She’s not coming with us, is she?” Porta asked.

“She might,” Rikard told him as they stood up from their stools. The crowd quickly parted for them as they went through it, “I did tell her that she was welcome to leave with us.”

“Oh Lord,” Porta muttered when they reached the stairs, “That woman seems to know how to p*ss off all of the wrong people. I’ve made my share of enemies since I left Terran Space, but she puts me to shame. It amazes me that she’s survived this...” His voice trailed off as he and Rikard left the street level entrance. It had finally stopped raining, allowing them a clear view of what was happening less than fifteen feet away. On the sidewalk, five individuals were spread out, either unconscious or rolling on the ground, nursing wounds and injuries. Kelthara had been pushed up against the wall by a short, bald, but tough looking human who was holding a pistol in her face. Behind him stood a taller, long-haired man, holding a large energy rifle with one hand and trying to stop his shoulder from bleeding with the other.

“You’re going to pay dearly for that, my dear,” the shorter man threatened, “You’re going to wish I’d killed you when Quorinar gets done with you.” When he was done with his statement, he backhanded Kelthara, sending her sprawling onto the pavement.

“Hey!” Rikard exclaimed with fury in his voice, “What do you think you’re doing?” Rikard already had the long cylinder of his lightsaber in his hand, ready to light.

“Stay out of this,” Moornan barked, giving Rikard a harassed look, “This doesn’t concern you!” Behind him, the taller man kept Kelthara on the ground with his large rifle.

“Wanna bet?” Rikard retorted, “I’ll give you a choice, you can either leave now or-.” Moornan had lifted his pistol before Rikard could finish. He fired, but Rikard’s lightsaber was already lit. The pistol beam was deflected into the sky while Porta dove for cover. Seeing Rikard to be a greater threat, Moornan’s guard also turned his rifle on the LICC. With his attention off of her for a second, Kelthara kicked hard at the guard’s legs, bringing him down. As he fell, she kicked the rifle out of his hand. A few more well placed hits knocked the guard out. Moornan was having even less success than his guard as every shot he fired at Rikard was easily deflected. Rikard moved closer to him and he was beginning to panic. He began backing up until he tripped over one of his unconscious colleagues, dropping the pistol with a loud clatter. Rikard held the lightsaber blade to Moornan’s throat, who cowered at the bright silver beam’s close proximity.

“Tell your boss that it’s time to leave Kelthara alone,” Rikard snidely told Moornan, “unless, of course, he’d like to deal with me.” Moornan nodded dumbly, his eyes fixed on the silver lightsaber blade.

"Qu-Quorinar's not gonna stand for this!" Moornan quickly spat, "He'll hunt you down. All of you!"

“Yeah, we'll see about that,” Rikard said, smiling viciously. The butt-end of a rifle suddenly collided with the back of Moornan's head, knocking the short man out. Rikard looked up to see Kelthara standing over Moornan's inert form.

“You okay?” he asked. She nodded without meeting his eyes.

“I’m fine.”

Porta emerged from his cover with a smirk on his face.

“I told you she was trouble.”

Those of Shadows

Chapter 5: Flight

Time Placement: LICC3, During the Authors storyline

Dramatis Personae:
Commander Joshua Rikard (human male, LICC)
Robert Porta (human male, former EarthSysIntel)
Kelthara Joolan (Granacean female)
Colonel Kyle Robert Wilkins (human male, EarthSysIntel)
Lord Balarice a.k.a. “Darth Malice” (human male, Dark Jedi/Sith Lord)
Moornan (human male, gangster)
Quorinar (Kerphian male, gangster boss)


No one said a word as Rikard led Gelthara and Robert from the bar and back to his motel. The temperature had dropped and half of the city’s lights seemed to be burned out, but it had stopped raining. Rikard had grown tired of it.

The motel had been pretty far from the bar to begin with, but the return trip was even longer as Josh elected to take a more circuitous route back to make sure that his newfound party was not being followed. Finally, they arrived back at the dingy motel. They entered and headed for the lifts, but Rikard thought better of it and made for the nearby stairwell.

“We have to leave, right now,” Kelthara whispered frantically as they reached the sixth level. It was the first thing she’d said since they’d left the fight with Moornan and his goons. The first thing anyone had said. They reached the door and entered Rikard’s small, dark room.

“You think they’ll stop at me? They already know who you are, Robert. They know you were there. If they come for me, they’ll come after you, too. Both of you.”

“They might not know about him,” Porta noted, indicating Rikard.

“I think Quorinar knows. He’s been here for five days.” Kelthara dropped onto the bed while Rikard grabbed his single bag. He moved about the room, packing the few things he’d brought with him from his shuttle.

“Five days?! She’s right, time to go. Thanks to her-”

“Thanks to me?” Kelthara sounded offended.

“-half the planet will know you’re here,” Robert continued, ignoring her, “and not the pleasant half.”

“There’s a pleasant half?” Rikard commented dryly.

“It’s not my fault,” Kelthara protested.

“How is it not your fault? Moornan was after you. He was sent to grab you. If not for you, we wouldn’t be scrambling to get off of this frelling planet.”

“If it wasn’t for me, he never would have found….” They continued to bicker as Rikard retreated to the restroom. In seconds, he had everything he needed from it. He emerged with a black tote bag and a small rectangular med kit.

“I don’t know why he’s letting you come, anyway,” Porta retorted to her. Josh crouched down with the med kit, checking its contents.

“Because I made a promise,” he responded before turning to Kelthara, “Are you all right?” Kelthara, still arguing with Kyle, had hardly noticed Josh’s return.

“What?”

“Are you all right?” However the fight had gone before Rikard and Kyle and shown up, it appeared that Kelthara had taken a few hits before it had ended. She had a few cuts on her face, including a particularly nasty one on her lip, and her right cheek was a darker purple than the rest of her skin. Her wrist also had a large scrape on it, but since she had been holding it since the end of the fight, it appeared to have stopped any bleeding. Rikard reached out and tenderly felt the cut on her lip. She winced when he made contact.

“Looks pretty bad. We’ll heal you up and then we’ll all get out of here.” Rikard ignored Porta’s objections, instead opening the med kit and pulling out a number of small, square pads. He placed them on Kelthara’s bigger wounds. When he was done with that, he pulled a small, narrow device and switched it on. The miniature dermal regenerator blinked its several blue lights, indicating that it was activated and fully functioning. Josh removed the pads and waved the wand over the cuts on Kelthara’s face, slowly healing each one. He carefully took her wrist and turned it over, causing her to wince again. Like before, he cleaned her cut with the pads before running the device over the wound. Once it had closed up, he packed the kit up and threw it into his bag.

“There you go, all better.”

Kelthara watched him with her deep, dark eyes. “Thank you,” she whispered genuinely. Josh realized that she probably wasn’t used to anyone taking care of her. He guessed that most of the people on this planet weren’t. He smiled.

“Any time.” Behind him, Robert rolled his eyes.

“All right, she’s all fixed up. Can we go now?” Josh nodded as he stood.

“Yeah, let’s head out. My ship’s at Clear Horizons, so we’ll head straight there. You two ready?” Both answered with affirmations. “All right, let’s go.”
____________________________________________________

Minutes later, Rikard was back at Clear Horizons Spaceport. Though it was fairly late at night, the port was still quite busy, filled with species of every kind, some Rikard had never even seen. Rikard had liked spaceports all of his life, any kind of port really. He had always found it mesmerizing to mull over where everyone was going, from where they had just come, who was waiting for them at their final destination. He loved it.

“We’re being followed,” Porta noted while staring ahead, “Three humans and a Tigerman.” Rikard resisted the urge to look and continued walking. Though there were many beings in the small port, there didn’t appear to be many places to lose their tail. That left one option. Rikard kept walking.

They soon reached Bay 17, the bay where Rikard had docked his shuttle. At the entrance stood a Clear Horizons spaceport, a G’turan male from the looks of it.

“Greetings,” he welcomed them with faux kindness, “How may I help you this evening?”

Rikard held up a number of datapads. “I need to depart, please.” The G’turan, Meltan according to his Clear Horizons I.D. badge, gestured what Rikard assumed to be a yes.

“Of course, this will only take a moment.” As they waited, Rikard casually glanced around. It seemed that for the moment, their tail had gone elsewhere and the men Porta had indicated didn’t appear to be nearby.

“Yes, Mr. Piker, your ship is on Pad 19. Toward the back and to the left. If you need help locating it, one of the bay’s droids should be able to help. Thanks for staying on Cartileen Prime. We at Clear Horizons Spaceport hope that it was enjoyable and that your next destination is as good if not better, have a great evening,” Meltan recited.

Rikard exchanged looks with Robert. “Thanks. Oh, one more thing….” He placed a credit chip on Meltan’s console, “Could you try and give us a few minutes in the bay before you let anyone else in?” Meltan’s gave Rikard a sidelong glance and hastily pocketed the chip.

“It’s yours. Have a good flight.” He sounded sincere. Rikard led Robert and Kelthara past the stand and into the bay. Meltan watched them go, glad that someone understood the hard work he put into his job. When he turned back to the promenade, he noticed a number of humans and a Tigerman coming toward him.

“Greetings.”

________

“That’s what you came in?” Kelthara asked, staring at the old, beat up shuttlecraft. Rikard smiled.

“Don’t worry, she’s tougher than she looks. Wait ‘til you see the inside.” As they headed for the shuttle, Rikard stopped.

“You guys go ahead to the ship, I have to get the stuff I checked in.” Kelthara nodded and made for the shuttle, but Robert followed Rikard to the luggage claim area.

“Why is she coming with us?” Robert, as usual, sounded irritated.

“Because I told her that she could,” Rikard responded as they reached the claim counter, “Why do you have such a problem with that?” He inserted a card into one of the counter’s slots. A mechanical whir could be heard as the storage bins behind the counter rearranged themselves, bringing Rikard’s to the front.

“I told you, she’s trouble. Always has been, always will be. You bring her with us and all we’ll get is grief.” Rikard turned to Porta. He seemed truly concerned about this.

“Listen, Porta, we’ll be fine. Don’t worry about her, worry about our next destination. After getting you, I have no idea what to do. Since Intel told me to locate you, I’m hoping you’ll have somewhere to take us ‘cause I don’t.” Rikard’s bin reached the front and set itself on the counter. He opened it, and began unloading the materials inside of it, including his two blaster pistols.

“Nice to have these again,” he said to himself. Porta gave him a dubious look and opened his mouth to say something. He didn’t get a chance. Rikard felt it before it came. He tackled Porta to the ground as the bin he’s been going through exploded, blasted by an energy rifle. Rikard rolled off of Porta and looked up. On the other side of the bay and running toward them were the men who had been following them. They charged, firing as they ran.

“So much for a few minutes,” Porta said bitterly.

“Go!” Rikard yelled, pushing Robert up as he himself scrambled to his feet. They sprinted toward the shuttle, ducking the incoming phaser and blaster fire. Rikard fired back with both of his pistols, keeping their attackers back. They reached the shuttle, diving behind its aft section. The port hatch, the ship’s only entry, was open, presumably where Kelthara had entered the ship. As Rikard looked, a number of shots whizzed by, nearly taking his head with them. He ducked back behind the ship.

“Give me a gun,” Porta insisted, holding his hand out. Rikard looked at it.

“What?”

“Give me a gun, I can help.” Rikard stared at the weapons in his hand. What could it hurt? Porta had only helped so far and Rikard couldn’t sense any deception from him. Reluctantly, Josh handed one of his pistols to Porta. With his free hand, Rikard drew his lightsaber, activating the silver blade with its typical snap.

Robert smiled. “Thanks.” He leapt to his feet and ran from cover, firing as he went.

“Porta! What the hell are you-.” But it was too late, he was already running out in the open. Rikard spun around the edge of the shuttle, aiming and firing at their targets. He was surprised to see two beings down, apparently stunned.

Porta stood less than fifteen feet away, his pistol out with its barrel still smoking. His eyes scanned the docking bay, searching for their remaining attackers.

“Where’d you learn to shoot like that?” Rikard asked, still shocked. Robert shrugged.

“Earth.” His eyes widened and he raised his gun, pointing it directly at Rikard. Josh’s heart skipped a beat before he realized that Porta was actually aiming at something behind him. Rikard dropped to the ground as Porta fired, spinning his own body around and aiming his weapon at the two sentients behind him. As he made contact with the floor, he fired, hitting the Tigerman square in the chest. The Tigerman fell next to his unconscious companion.

“Nice shot,” Rikard heard Porta say. He looked back to see his new partner smiling. He approached and offered his hand to Rikard.

“Time to go?” Porta asked after helping Rikard to his feet. Rikard nodded.

“Time to go.”

“You two done messing around?” Porta and Rikard turned to see Kelthara’s head poking out of the shuttle’s hatch. “Can we go yet?” Rikard and Porta exchanged a look.

Moments later, the shuttle was in the air, achieving orbit in seconds. Rikard sat in the pilot seat with Kelthara and Porta both behind him. Kelthara gazed out the port window at the planet below, her features arranged in a pensive expression. “It’s been a long time,” she murmured.

Rikard turned, seeing her out the corner of his eye. “What has?”

“Since I’ve seen it… from up here.”

“Good riddance,” Porta remarked, “I think I could live with myself if I don’t make it back.” Kelthara didn’t respond, only staring. Rikard set the shuttle for a course out of the system. Within seconds, an alarm was sounding on the panel

“What’s that?” Porta asked.

“Contacts,” Rikard answered, “Two of ‘em. Coming in fast on our rear.”

“Quorinar’s ship,” Kelthara explained, suddenly snapping back to reality, “he’s going to blow us out of the sky.”

“Don’t you guys have government ships up here? What happened to them?” Rikard swayed as he spoke, beginning the shuttle’s attempts at evasive maneuvers while it drew ever closer to the spot that would allow them to jump away. Kelthara scoffed.

“Orbital’s on Quorinar’s payroll. His ships do what they want, the few patrols up here look the other way. It’s a pleasant arrangement for both of them,” she added with barely masked disgust.

“Not enough for them to do his work for him?” he asked mockingly.

“Not enough for them to take orders directly from a gangster. The last thing Cartileen wants is someone like the Galactic Order coming in and taking over.” Rikard watched the stars ahead, wondering which they would be next visiting. Assuming, of course, they won this race out of the planet’s range.

“This place is a long way from GO,” he whispered. Rikard had never been the Order’s largest supporter, but this system made it shine like the great beacon of hope many believed it to be.

For the umpteenth time, he checked the shuttle’s power distribution. Most power in the engines, weapons practically at zero, some shunted into aft shields. It would be enough. It had to be. Even against the derelict fighters coming after them, Rikard wasn’t sure they had much of a chance. Then again…

Suddenly, none of it mattered as the shuttle crossed the computer’s projected line, coming out of the planet’s major gravity well and entering “open space.” With a few taps, they would be gone.

“Everybody hold on,” he said as he entered the tried and true command sequence. The static starfield erupted into long, dazzling streaks as they crossed the threshold and entered warp, leaving their pursuers far behind.

__________________________________________________

Rikard only let the comfortingly familiar sight of warped space soothe him for a handful of seconds before spinning his seat to face Porta.

“So?” he began. “Where to?” Porta looked surprised, apparently not expecting to be on the spot so soon.

“Why are you asking me?” Rikard’s shoulder’s slumped for a second, but when he faced Porta again, he spoke with his usual forcefulness. “You were one of the foremost agents against Malice. You know as much if not more than anyone alive today about that guy and his organization. We need to track him down. That’s why I grabbed you in the first place, remember?”

Porta shook his head in defiance. “Trust me, we don’t want to go down this path. It’ll only end in pain and tears.” Rikard rolled his eyes.

“You agreed....”

“And I’ve rethought it!” Porta interrupted. “Believe me, avoiding the Shadows does both myself and you a huge favor. We both get to live, we skip out on some lovely torture, and we get to enjoy some high quality replicated food rather than boiled rat.”

“Replicator’s broken,” Rikard muttered. Porta perked up to this.

“Come again?”

It was at this point that Gelthara chose to jump in. “Good Lady, Robert, you can be so stubborn sometimes.” Porta scoffed.

“Says the kettle to the pot,” Rikard mumbled. Robert and Gelthara paid him no mind, having turned their attention on another.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?” he said coldly.

Rikard, seeing the possible beginning of a shouting match, decided to interrupt . “You know, Robert, we could just drop you back on Cartileen. It’s right back there,” he said, pointing his thumb to the back of the cockpit. “I’m sure they’d be happy to have you.”

Porta laughed. “Please, you’re not going back there. They shot at you, too.” Rikard shrugged.

“Like you said, I’m LICC. If you really think that a few planetary patrols on some rundown backwater are going to take me down, then I think you might be in for a little surprise.”

Porta sat back, turning to face the streaking stars with a thoughtful expression. Remarkably, he was quiet for several minutes. A moment later, he was back.

“Fine, fine. You want me, you got me. If we’re really going to do this, though, you’re going to have to trust me. I know what I’m doing and you’re right, I do know these guys better than anyone. You should know now that there may be a couple of times when what I tell you to do seems questionable, amoral, or counterproductive to the mission, but you still have to listen to me. It’s the only way we’ll be able to get to these guys. I need to know you won’t waver.” He turned to Gelthara, almost giving her a tight smile. “I already know that you won’t.” He turned back to Rikard. “Are we clear?”

After a beat, Rikard nodded. “Clear.” With a smile, Porta leaned back in his chair, lacing his fingers behind his head.

“Well all right then. Now that we have that out of the way, set a course for Aljora. Stop numero uno.”

Authors Notes: This is something I wrote down one day early this summer. Something small that I wanted to touch on with Rikard but never really did when we were doing LICC.

The reference to the baptism at the end is just the need for a major event in a young child's life. I thought that it fit, even if it might be somewhat out of character for our players.

Time Placement: Any time during or after the latter half of LICC 3

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The bay felt cold. It always felt cold. It was a domain of machines, of bolt and circuitry. Calculating, unfeeling, unsympathetic, devices without life or vibrancy, with absolutely no traces of humanity. This place housed one of the most extraordinary collections of machines one could hope to find, in his opinion anyway, but they were only machines nonetheless.

It was for this reason that she so stood out. Justifiably or not, he had never associated her with the thick gray hulls and the endless gears, with the repulsorlifts and the incredibly powerful engines, always ready to provide an astonishing supply of thrust at a moments notice. Her colors stood out from the cool grays and whites, her flowing grace clashed with the stilted and precise movements of the men and the metal, her very aura was a warming presence among the chill. It was because of this, because of many things, that he’d seen her the moment she had arrived. A blooming lily forced through a tangle of rusted piping. He turned with a smile as she approached, entranced as always by her fluctuating coloring.

“Hey Artsy,” he acknowledged her with a friendly tone. “How are you?”

“Hi Josh,” she answered, just as friendly. “I’m fine, thanks. I’d to ask you question, if you please. Are you busy at the moment?” Rikard forced back a chuckle as he glanced at the darkened panels before him. Busy was one of the last things he was at that moment.

“Just thinking,” he said, taking in the surrounding bay, “about the past. Chances, opportunities. I was actually just thinking about you. About a while back, before you… before Mary Worth took you.” He paused, thinking he might have seen her flinch at the memory. He went on. “You know, that time you were hoping to expand your skill set a bit, learn something new. You’d considered getting into piloting. I didn’t really say much about it at the time, but I was really looking forward to that.” He turned to his instruments, fiddling with the currently useless controls. Something for him to focus on. Something else. “I’ve tried at a lot of things in my life, and I’m pretty good at a few of them. Combat, engineering, command, Italian cuisine-”

“Italian cuisine?” Artsy asked with a colorful eyebrow raised. Rikard nodded.

“Oh yeah, you haven’t lived until you’ve tried my linguine. Everything else is hit or miss, but that…” He trailed off, getting the distant look again. “For me, though, none of those come close to flying. Nothing gives me more thrill, makes me feel better, more fulfilled than getting into a cockpit. It makes me… me. It defines me. I know Seeker understands that to an even greater extent than I do.” Finally, he turned to face her. “When I thought I was going to share those feelings with someone else, to relive some of the most wonderful sensations of my life through your eyes, the prospect was exciting. Like doing it all again, only better. I was looking forward to that.” His eyes focused on her, realization coming as if she’d just remembered that she was there. “I’m sorry, that was a bit out of the blue.” No pun intended. “What was it you wanted to ask?” As she flushed red, Rikard silently reprimanded himself for never learning which color meant what.

“Uh, we were wondering if you would come to Quito’s baptism tonight,” she asked. Rikard was a bit taken aback, but then grinned.

“Of course I will. I’ll be there,” he said. Artsy smiled, a hint of gold running through.

“Great, we’ll see you there. Now I just need to find Insane and Delgado. Any idea where they are?”

Rikard shrugged. “I think Insane’s still in Holodeck 2. I’d ask the computer. It’d know better than I would.”

“Thanks. I’ll see you later, then.” With another smile and a wave, Artsy turned from the Jedi and his slumbering fighter and left. Rikard watched until the lily had gone from the machines and the cool efficiency was again alone.

BTW, looking over the color scheme, she should have "flushed pink" rather than red.

Not bad, Josh.

For some reason, I keep referring to Porta as "Kyle" in the latest chapter. It's Robert, not Kyle. Wilkins is my (retconned) Kyle.