It Turns on This

Gort closed the lightsaber casing with a gentle click before standing and stretching for the first time in… many hours. The heist had gone well and Mayln had returned – although the human was still reticent with details about his exploits – and the date for the assault on the shipyard and the meeting with the inquisitor grew ever closer.

Mayln played his cards close to the chest. His eyes betrayed the presence of a plan, but any talk of what that plan may entail remained carefully guarded. While Mayln had done well by them in the past, Gort grew increasingly frustrated with his silence. Weren’t they a team? Hadn’t they fought and schemed side-by-side?

If he could not know the plan, he would have his own. And so Gort worked. Designing, building, improving. Testing his new inventions again and again and again. They could not fail, not at this crucial juncture.

Weakness -Mayln

Mayln sat in front of his monitors solemnly. Every little communication from the ship danced before him. But for once, he didn’t care. Things were different now. Mayln held the power he so desperately hoped for and yet it felt wrong. Every fiber of his being told him that taking on the Empire was a mistake. Their position was tenuous at best. The fragile bonds Mayln had carefully constructed, while maintaining his independence, were being pulled tight.

Mayln had done many things that were uncharacteristic. Demands of his employer, taking on and inquisitor, siding with the rebels. None of it made any sense. People were tools for Mayln to use. That is what he’d thought for so long. So why risk everything for the crew? It’s more than for his job. Mayln wouldn’t have taken so many risks if it were. Then why? Had he come to care for these people? Enough to risk everything he’d worked so hard to create?

Maybe this was all wrong. Mayln tapped his finger on his private data pad, still waiting. He also realized that this was new. He’d never waited on someone like this before. So engrossed in the desire for contact that he wasn’t working on something else. This was all part of the problem. Mayln has cared more for other after meeting this crew than before. That must have made him susceptible to these feelings. He needed to see her, he needed to help Gort, he needed to protect Beck and the others. Needs that didn’t help Malyn. When had he grown so attached… so weak?

Without Delay

Gort set to work without delay preparing for the attack on the Imperial shipyard. Mayln had assured him the heist would proceed without a hitch, so Gort’s expertise would only be required on-site.

Under his fiery gaze the technicians set about patching the Hand with fresh durasteel plate. He ordered them about loudly, sending them hither and thither to ensure the ship would arrive in the best possible condition for the showdown at Damothar and the subsequent assault on Shipyard T975.

Gort dispatched a request to the Astartes corportation requesting the materials and crew necessary to refit the Hand with concussion missile tubes to replace select light laser turrets with more appropriate armaments. The Rebel forces – he could not bring himself to call their two corvettes and fighters a “fleet” – were well equipped to handle small craft. The shipyard would be heavily defended target and turbolasers alone would not get the job done; Without improving the anti-structural strength of the Hand the mission would not, could not, be successful.

He trusted Mayln or Javrice would sort out the details with Astartes. Gort didn’t have time for such trivialities right now.

Between long shifts overseeing the repairs, Gort sat alone in the dark of his quarters, devising plan after plan. Not for the attack on the shipyard, for that plan had already been put into motion.

No. The encounter with the inquisitor vexed him. Jibacca, Bek, and Javrice were needed in the orbital ambush. It could only be Mayln and Gort at the rendezvous the inquisitor on the surface below, but even then Mayln’s absence could upset their chance at victory in the sky.

Defeating the inquisitor seemed like a long shot, but he had an idea. He could only trust that this plan – as far fetched as it was – would bring them closer to the rebirth of the Jedi Order.

Gort set to work without delay.

Nothing safer

Nothing is safer it seems than being under fire. At least, the future ahead will prove which direction is safest by direct meetings, Rebel hunting, or Imperial hunting. Did I leave out the other lurking unanswered questions? This new understanding first hand of the force seems peaceful amid the chaos. My dream resonates more as time moves forward. Still, my reservations are founded, and my steps must be fully metered. First we must assist Beck. The direction that this has suddenly launched toward shows promise for future allies to strengthen our group, all while growing our risk. It is good we sought the Iridium with the council and Mailin’s contact. This will prove most advantageous. Can’t wait to see the phantom in action first hand when cloaked and armed. Merique will be all but met alone. I cannot shake that even he is a pawn posing a greater threat than he is. Too forward in attempts for contact. Another must be moving his hand. Further still, I feel as though i am being watched on a plane more clear now than before, but more subtle than it would like to be known. It’s almost as though, she, was watching…

Other notes:
Interesting as well that Jibacca should also exhibit force inclinations. These things cannot be coincidence, my understanding is that they never are. Perhaps more time should be invested there. Well, off to rigorous training with sword and soul.

How did I do that?

Well, that certainly was an interesting ride. I can’t believe I was able to fit in that tie fighter, let alone fly it and shoot the hell out of those imperials. Now that I’ve been awakened to my abilities I feel a need to use them but I know that when the proper time arises, I will know what to do. I feel it starting to become a part of me. I can’t wait to see what will happen next in our journey.

Red Hot

Gort barked orders at the maintenance droids, sending them this way and that with replacement panels, fried circuits, crushed cargo, and more besides. The Hand was in poor shape after her narrow victory over the two Imperial Raiders and, despite the presence of a so-called chief engineer, Gort felt it his responsibility to manage the repair effort wherever possible.

They had only a few short days to work shifts around the clock to bring her back from the brink enough to fly a rebel to a secret meeting at Bek’s request.

A rebel!

Now, he couldn’t be sure about these rebels – from what he had heard they were disorganized freedom fighters with more passion than brains – but some part of his spirit leapt at the thought of turning his whole self into the effort of bringing down the Empire and restoring peace to the galaxy like the Jedi Knights of old.

He couldn’t go gallivanting off to fight the Empire when the solemn duty of training a new generation of Jedi demanded his utmost attention, however, and such pursuits would have to wait until Jibacca and Javrice were ready. He had to resist the call to arms, in spite of every protest from the ghost of his younger self, if just until -

“Where do you think you’re going with those power couplings? Take them to the forward power relay and install them! Take HZZ-8 with you, and be sure to label them properly…”

Old strategy

My old strategy of posing as a belligerent drunk based on revenge and angst is a cover that now must ammend in light of having come to a new realization. Ultimate understatement of my lifetime. Much has come into alignment filling in the darkness covered questions of my family, and even my own life’s course thus far. The force is with me. My hair thin inclinactions of this fact now stand taller and more bracing than facing climb of the highest lava flowing mountains of Mustafar as my future’s path winds forward, steeper.

Much to Think About

Gort completed the final weld on the hull plating of the Mousetrap. More sparks could be seen through the cockpit window where Artus finished replacing the decrepit control panels. With but a thought he probed the vessel’s system to ensure the integrity diagnostic circuitry behind the armor functioned properly.

The small vessel had come a long way in a few short weeks with a squad of maintenance droids, Artus, and Gort’s new cerebral enhancer. What had once been a pile of space junk was now a sturdy boarding craft composed of slightly less space junk. It would be ready for their next mission, Gort was sure, although he didn’t relish the idea of needing it on what amounted to a courier mission.

The encounter with the Imperial raider had been an unpleasant shock, but with the initiative the Hand had come out without so much as a scrape. If only they could always be so lucky.

In the absence of luck, however, they needed to be prepared.

Nebulous forces seemed to be at play – Mayln’s shadowy employer, Quay’s simultaneous death and reassignment, the kidnapping attempt, and more besides. It had to mean something, didn’t it? He couldn’t puzzle it out, however, and he pushed the thought aside into a special storage unit which would jog his memory when he had the spare time to think about it.

A reminder gently popped into his consciousness – time to train with Javrice and Jibacca. He gave a wave to Artus before departing.

A Good Feeling

Gort turned the pages of his Illuvian poetry without reading the words or feeling the antique paper, his mind cast about elsewhere. He had turned over the sensor array to another crewmember and retreated into his cabin in the Rampant Standard.

After a few minutes where the poetry might as well have been huttese for all he had taken in, Gort headed down to the cargo bay. Jibacca would be beginning his practice session any time now, and Gort wondered how he was progressing…


Well, well, well.

The wookie was good. Very good. The force pushes in the battle for Dugan’s Hand had been nothing compared to the fine control and impressive strength he displayed now. He made it look so natural.

For the first time in what felt like ages, Gort smiled. It could only be the Force itself that would bring not one, but two incredibly talented individuals and the wealth of holocrons necessary to train them into his path. How could he ever have doubted? Javrice’s excesses and Jibacca’s naivete were merely the foundation for their grand destiny as members of a new jedi order.

He excused himself from the wookie’s practice session and returned to his quarters with a new light in his eyes. He pulled up the records he had made of each holocron’s contents and began to categorize and rearrange them. A series of lesson plans began to emerge from the wash of knowledge project in bright blue light.

He sent word to Jibacca and Javrice over the comms.

Their training would commence immediately.

Soggy Imperial Poet

Red and black and white soon dust, with ne’er but waste and rust, a blade in flight, lacerated trust, heart sunk in toil and crust, hardened by bargains, boiled red lusts, smoothed and suaven, blackened thus, an omen’s hearkening, blue sparks a sabers thrust, new hope pours oer a thousand suns dusk.

This tome from Gort proves useful! A verse that brings peace hope and, perhaps something else.

Bartender!!! Another “Red-END” Imperial brew!!! This time let the helm froth full and over!


I'm sorry, but we no longer support this web browser. Please upgrade your browser or install Chrome or Firefox to enjoy the full functionality of this site.