Preface - The Slaughter on Felucia

Smoke and the heat of plasma fire. Alexandra woke suddenly. Every part of her ached. The sound of the jungle drown out by the ringing and rush of blood in her ears. Pain didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered. Getting up from the ground she ran flat out, squeezing her hand she felt the lightsaber hilt she still held. The pressure release of being thrown through the jungle and hitting the tree enough that the blade of the saber had deactivated. With a squeeze of her palm, she activated the azure blue plasma blade again; arms swinging as she ran flat out. A blue blur, picking up speed as the Force strengthened her legs. Adrenaline, not the Force subduing the pain throughout her body. She had to get back, perhaps she was not too la—

--Alexandra had no idea how long she had been unconscious against the tree after being hurled through the jungle. All concept of time was gone. Skidding to a stop, she saw him first. Right where she saw him last. Blade deactivating again, she dropped the lightsaber hilt. Falling to her knees. Crawling toward him. He was gone. Struck down trying to defend them all. Just as she did.

The village burned, fire lit the sky in crimson and blue. Littered with the bodies of the villagers. Alex lay her body over the top of her beloved. Looking up and feeling for the first time the pain which wracked her. Then it was gone again, pushing up and off the ground. Mourning period over for the moment, there would be more time for it later. Alexandra scrambled to her feet tripping over another fallen Mirialan and then another rolling and choking through the dust and dirt.

Their pre-fab was almost consumed. Alex raised her hands in front of her face to block out the heat and try to part the smoke. To no avail. True fear gripped her, she called out and heard nothing. Were they gone? Truly gone? Had the Sith killed them, just like they killed everyone else? Sucking in a painful breath, falling against the burning hallway her skin sizzled. At any cost. She had to see; had to know.

Exploding around her, Alex was cast from the pre-fab and thrown back into the courtyard. ‘No’, she thought. ‘I need to know…’. Unconsciousness gripped her once again. Everything she knew and everyone she loved was gone.

And that included the two little girls that depended on her.

--

Husband…if you were the sky, I was your star.

When you set a course, I was your navigation.

Where ever you would go, I would gladly follow…and will always follow.

You were my Captain, my rock, my solace, my Love…my everything I that I gave all to....

And I have no idea what I am supposed to do now that you are gone…

May the Force guide me in figuring that out…until once again we can be together….

There is no Force, There is only sweet death and with time and speed may it bring me back to you…

Alexandra …

--

Hoth…

The makeshift shelter rocked from high winds which swept up and over the dune like mounds of snow and ice. This was a geologically undefinable portion of Hoth. Those who studied the ice planet never took into account what man-made structures could eventually do to the wind shear and moving glacial plates of the planet. The section was carved, hollowed out by the destruction of man. Crashed ships and derelict facilities created the valley and within it, those who helped to create it found refuge. A climate zone all its own due to the massive junk plie that came to be known as the ‘Graveyard’. No one could exactly pinpoint when it started or why any ship in Hoth’s outer atmosphere that took its final death plunge to the surface seemed to be redirected to that location. Magnetic wells and equilibrium of two poles on the planet’s surface could have had something to do with it. There was no meridian of temperate weather on the planet, a slow distant star was all Hoth circled to give it light. There were two different climates on Hoth; cold and even colder. The temperate zone created within the ‘Graveyard’ was assisted by those who lived there. Dragging and pulling derelicts to further boost the height of the valley below. The planet got angry, it howled and blew all of its fury toward them. Just like it did across the rest of the planet. But the ‘Graveyard’ withstood the storm and fought back. There was no wind, no severe storm that could do them in. The ‘Graveyard’ was protected.

Hoth sleeted its shards down into the valley; a valley which contained another set of dunes. Both man-made in the form of derelict starships and the natural landscape, they blended into the skyline with the natural ice fixtures. Lining the sides of the Ancient Shipyard Empire. An empire carved from the very ice shelf in which it lay. Crunching underfoot, Alexandra moved swiftly, but not so fast as to give away how much the cold was getting on her nerves. Mirialans were used to harsh climates, born into it on Mirial. But, Mirial was a different kind of cold. Dusky and harsh, a tundra of a planet with life that managed to adapt and flourish. Hoth was a massive ball of ice floating in space. The few ‘bright’ spots on the planet were few and far between. And those spots stood in stark contrast to the rest of the planet when they were found. Hot springs, created by lava; which in contrast ran under massive sheets of ice. A testament to how cold the planet was. Hoth couldn’t decide if it wanted to melt or burn, so it did both. Alexandra was returning after being gone for many moons. A long time since she been ‘home’ and even more since she felt the bite of the cold quite like she did that particular day.

‘Home’, such a strange word to use on a planet like Hoth. But it was. Alexandra continued her climb down the valley. Every step in the ice and cold rattling and numbing her down to the core. Passing the first marker, Alex saw the first signs of life. Two individuals, blaster rifles at the ready, poked their heads out of a camouflaged alcove. Really a mound of packed ice, hollowed out by hand and torched on the inside to glaze it over and trap in what little heat they could take with them. Ironically, it was quite hot once the inside was glazed over. The two looking out waved at her, recognizing the markings on her fur jumper. To travel the zone without the proper identification was certain death. They wouldn’t chase. They never chased. It was markings on clothing; hand signs from a distance. It was too cold to get up close. ‘Shoot and let freeze’. That was the mantra. And if time permitted, check on who the intruder was in due course. There was no rush. No one was going anywhere. And anyone stupid enough to be out in the cold more than likely wanted to get shot anyway. The cold made some wish for death, especially on those long nights of the winter solstice.

This was a special day for her, not one she wanted to share with anyone. One she was forced to remember. As one of many ‘crew runners’ for the White Maw, Alex was one of many minor chiefs responsible for a particular salvage item or sector of Hoth space. Poaching and preying on those who strayed too close or left a salvage for too long. Stepping onto the doorstep, she stomped her feet to shake off the excess snow from her boots before opening the hatch to enter. And was immediately stopped by the voice behind the makeshift desk; the glow of electronics behind it barely illuminating the large figure.

“Ah, ah…ah…what do we do when we enter, Alex?” The voice was filled with sarcastic cheer as Alex backed up, smirked and rolled her eyes. “We are NOT barbarians here, Alex. And if I have told you once…I have told you a thousand times—“

“--Wipe my feet, yes I know…” She did before. The man behind the desk was poking a little fun. There was a time when Alex didn't shake off the show at all.

Backing up, Alex make a show of it. Stomping and scrapping her feet loudly, leaving the door open slightly as a punishment for the one who scolded her. Her rich and melodic voice carried over the small pre-fab headquarters used by the Clan leader, releasing a few choice curses his way. All of them in Mirialan, so he wouldn’t understand. But he was learning. Taking it upon himself to pick up a word here or there, he recognized one and looked up sharply once Alex let the words fly.

They weren’t really a clan, as he liked to call it. More like a gang as Alexandra liked to think of it. Drogan sat up and let the glow of holo-units and miscellaneous data screens brighten his features as he sat back in the chair and smiled. Already moving to the chair bolted to the floor in front of his desk, Alexandra kicked her legs up and flopped her feet on his desk. An act by anyone else that would have more than likely gotten the offender shot. Drogan did grimace slightly, leaning forward to wipe the droplets from her boots off the desk as they landed unceremoniously.

“Becoming quite the crew runner, aren’t we Alex?” His smile returned as he sat back, the prominent scar on his face showing its deep crease in the low light, “Most cargo hauled in, most salvage recovered…” He lost the smile as he looked down at the holo-field, “…also most violent, most casualties; from either side actually. Both our ‘clients’ and the White Maw. I think you have replaced what…three of your men in the last month?”

Shrugging, Alex reached forward and took one of the many candies out of her boss’s jar. Opening it up noisily to plop it in her mouth as she continued to stare him down. All of the records he recited were exactly correct and it put a glint in her eye that went with the wry grin. “They were not competent. I gave instruction, they failed to listen. It’s that simple.”

Drogan was in no position to argue, the returns from her crew more than made up for any losses. Leaning back again, he smiled, “Well, while that’s true…we don’t want to give the impression that anyone is expendable.” He pointed at her quickly, “You are…I am…but the men should never think that. It’s a share, an equal share. And NO ONE comes on the account thinking they are expendable or that they are any less important than anyone else. We are in this for the credits and the loot…nothing else. This 'ain't' the Republic, Alex. Every crew is a committee.”, Alex frowned slightly, it didn’t go unnoticed. Drogan quickly added with a slight laugh, “Ok, not all of us are in it for the credits…some of us are in it for the anarchy and lack of governance…” His smile broadened as he stared at Alex, “I won’t mention any names…will I Alex?”

“No, you will not…” She smiled in return about to get up, her log and accounting placed carefully on the desk. Anxious to get to her own pre-fab.

“Just a moment…there's a reason I held you so long…” Alex stopped moving, but did drop her feet to the floor in order to lean forward, “—as you may or may not know, The Sith are rearming. This is a fact unknown to the Republic, but…” Drogan stood up and paced around to the other side of the desk to lean on it, “…I know a guy, who’s friends with a guy who is a contact on Corellia. This guy ALSO is an insider in one of the arms companies. A company by the way, which does all their manufacturing offworld…Korriban--Imperial sector…” Alex’s head snapped up as Korriban was mentioned, her eyes narrowing. Drogan smiled because he saw her interest, but not for the reasons he believed, “So… that interests you? Good, because I can’t think of a better person to put out in that shipping lane.” His arms got as wide as his smile. Drogan pushed off the desk, “We are branching out, Alex…goods, weapons…all of it equals more credits. Steal some, sell some back to the people we stole it from. Keep some, sell it to others. You know the drill. Keep in mind, all of it is good stuff, but its nothing compared to information. And with a War coming, one side having the advantage….anything ‘intelligence’ will sell better than anything we could put in our holds.”

Without a word, Alex got up and started for the door. The look of distain now permanently plastered on her face.

“Can I assume…that your silence is acquiescence?”

Stopping at the door, Alex laid her hand on the keypad and nodded without turning around. She heard Drogan clap in delight behind her as he moved back behind the desk.

“One more thing, Alex. They fear your name…it’s time the ones who hear it actually see the person behind it. Remember…the WORD of you is sometimes more terrifying than the actual person. For most people that’s true, never for you…it’s why I am sending you and no one else. You ARE your name…Alex.”

After keying in the unlock and snatching open the door, Alex walked out of the pre-fab. The wind hitting her in the face. Before pulling up the hood, she let it blow her dreads away from the face she made, still disdainful. For no other reason than just to feel the bite, the slice of the cold. Of all days, this was the day she needed to feel. Alex was alive. The extreme temperature told her that. Placing her face to it proved it. Inside, she felt dead and deeper the cold reflected off an almost impermeable veneer of emotionlessness. She was a ‘crew runner, a ‘Captain’ and had been for some time. Elevated by her own crew to the position, no one opposed her. The look she carried was not for the ugly work she had to do; glancing at her chrono she had to remind herself why she needed to feel, it was the one day out of the year she allowed it.

This was the day….she lost her life on Felucia….an anniversary. Pulling up the hood she crunched through the snow to go inform her crew, they were going back out.

--

Hoth….a year prior….

Brought in under guard, Alexandra De’nabre stood with her hands folded in front of her surrounded by all of the members of the ship, all of them with blasters trained on her. Drogan Summerset, White Maw Clan boss, gang leader and coordinator for all things White Maw related twirled one of the black Electrum-plated saberhilts taken from Alexandra, looking at her strangely. The clothes she wore, way too baggy for her curves. Something given to her when she was taken onboard as indentured labor. Labor she was happy to perform until the moment she chose to reveal herself.

Everyone was shocked, a Chamber Maid, ‘the help’; ship’s husbandry…a Jedi? It didn’t make sense. Not to anyone of them, though all of them owed their lives to Alexandra. When the fighting stopped, that was when all blasters all turned to her. The Jedi were the peacekeepers of the galaxy, the people she was working for as ‘the help’ were pirates. It wasn’t hard to do the math and figure out where all of the angst was going from. Jedi, the law, didn’t get along very well with Pirates. Drogan saw something else. Alex wasn’t saying anything or trying to talk her way out of being brought under guard or being discovered as a Jedi. That spoke volumes to him. But Drogan was just as perplexed as he continued to twirl the saber, keeping his eyes on her.

“Leave us…”

All of the pirates looked at one another before Drogan gave them a stare. He was the boss, his word was law. Reluctantly they exited the pre-fab one by one; all of them casting wicked looks at Alex as they left. He stopped twirling the saber as the last of the crew left, moving to a position on the corner of the desk. Alex still stood silently; her chin slightly raised. Eyes fixed forward in defiance. Patches of dried blood still marred her face and clothing from the previous days battle. But she looked none the worse for wear. Standing behind the chair bolted to the floor, Drogan approached and slapped his hand down on the back of it looking at Alex with a smile.

“There is a reason…I keep this chair bolted to the floor. It’s multipurpose see? Whether you are a ‘client’ or you are part of the White Maw….everyone answers to the ‘chair’. And when I am sitting on the other side, behind my desk, those in the chair answer to me.” Drogan shook it to show that it would not move no matter how much force he placed upon it, “I want it in front so if I ask you a question, regardless if you are tied or bound to it….or you are simply here for a friendly chat; you know who is in charge. Make sense?” Alex finally hazarded a glance down at the chair, but quickly looked back up. Drogan continued to smile and look at her wickedly, “See…this I don’t get. We found you on Felucia, you ‘volunteered’ to take care of one of our ships for the promise of room and board. No one messed with you…surprising.” Looking down at the saberhilt he held, Drogan smiled to himself. “…but now I figure you used some kind of Force trick on those who wanted to bed you.” Drogan slapped his thighs as he continued, “You never told us you were a Jedi…why didn’t you say anything?”

Mouth twisting into a frown, Alex finally glanced down before locking eyes with Drogan. Her red irises burned into him enough that he back up slightly, “I lost my life on Felucia. There was nothing to tell…”

“That you were a Jedi…that’s pretty damn important.”

“Important to you….not to me. I left that all behind on Felucia. I wanted a new start, I got that and I didn’t care what form it came in.”

The smile broadened on Drogan’s face, he sat back and folded his arms, “Good. How about we expand upon that…” He stuck a hand out, “I’m Drogan…I lead the White Maw. And you are?”

Reluctantly, Alex took the hand and shook it. The grimace still firmly planted on her face, Alex relaxed realizing she wasn’t going to die. “Alexandra De’na—“

“--What?!?! Alexandra??? That’s not a name for a pirate….that’s a Jedi’s name.” Drogan stood up to his full height, dwarfing the smaller Alexandra. Though the way she looked at him with her burning red irises made him feel small. Drogan still had a point to make, “Alexandra, you are your name. Whether it be a feared name, or a name that holds little meaning. First impressions mean everything. If I am a gladiator in some Hutt Arena and my name is ‘Fluffy the Terrible’ would you expect a man of my size to come charging out at you? No, you wouldn’t.” Drogan released her hand realizing he was still holding it. Quickly stammering, rubbing the hand against his pants. “It can be what you wish others to ‘see’ you as, without actually seeing you. To fake someone out, keep that element of surprise. I can see by the way you hid your past, you may be keen on that. Or it can be a name that, even uttered in distant circles, would make a chill run up some Republic Senator’s spine. So…what do you want your name to be associated with? Fear, a fake-out….subterfuge. You want your enemies to know your coming? Or do you want them to never know what hit them?”

Alex narrowed her eyes. Drogan was trying to give her a name and she hadn’t even agreed to stay on. But Alex had nowhere to go. Looking up slightly, Alex thought about it and shrugged. “Drogan—I assume I can call you that. This is all….very strange to me and fast. I’m not even sure—” She was about to turn him down. Quickly she shifted gears after seeing the sudden look of disappointment on his face. The men told him. All of the crew told him what Alex did before she was brought in. They drew blasters not because they hated Jedi; which they did. Or because they were angry at having ‘the help’ jump into a fight. They drew blasters because they were scared. And Drogan desperately wanted someone who could strike that kind of fear into an enemy. Jedi were lethal, dangerous adversaries when they were on the opposite side of a situation. But Drogan didn’t fear them. Looking at Alex, it was the first time he felt fear in the presence of a Jedi. The story the men told, Drogan initially thought they were mistaken. Perhaps Alex was a Sith. But blue plasma blades. That was a Jedi color.

“Take your time…there’s no hurry…..”

After sucking in a breath and letting it out slowly Alex nodded to herself. As if giving permission. “I have no enemies…not anymore, but if I did….I would want them to know it was ‘I’ who was coming for them.” Those words and the way she said it sent a cold chill down Drogan’s spine that he tried to hide as he smiled.

“In this job…Alex, you are going to create enemies. A whole lot of enemies. And I’m afraid, Alexandra will not do….how about…” Drogan tapped his jaw and thought, smiling brightly down at her to extend his hand again. “Elle…or ‘L’ for short….shorter names are more terrifying trust me.” He laughed. Drogan turned his back expecting her to just leave as she stood there dumbfounded. He finally looked up, “Oh…yea, we are done. See the quartermaster and pick up whatever you need. I will let you know what crew you are on tomorrow and we will get to work. You will get the hang of things around here….Welcome to the White Maw…."

"...’L’….”