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Description
"And you are?"
Jaq saluted. "Jaq Rand, I fought in the Mandalorian Wars, alongside Revan. He saved my life at Altir, Force-pushed away a soldier who was about to blow my internal organs away, and then he was gone, off to save someone else. That's all I ever saw Revan do, he was always trying to help someone else."
The man returned the salute, sat in the chair facing his patient, and gestured for him to sit as well. "Well, that's as good a reason as any to want to join up. You will have to be sent for re-training and analysis first of course. And on that subject, I have three different psycho-analysis reports of you. Two state you are as loyal as is humanly possible to the Republic and Revan, but the last is what interests me. The author says you are a sadistic, murderous scumbag who only joined the Republic for the joy of being able to harm other living beings."
Jaq put on his best Who? Me? look, sat down, and leaned back in the chair. "Really? I thought all my Minders took quite a shine to me."
The man smiled, but it didn't carry up into his eyes. He looked worried.
He obviously knows more about me than he is letting on. Jaq grinned back.
"The author of this particular report was unfortunately found stabbed to death in her office, so we can't obtain her reasons for feeling this way about you, but out of all of your minders, she was the person attached to your unit, 42nd Special Forces squad, the longest." A look of triumph briefly crossed the Minder's face, too quick for anyone not trained to notice small details to see. Unfortunately for him...
"Really now? When did she die? Was it after I had left?" Jaq put his feet up onto the coffee table in between them.
Although it wasn't visible in his voice, this action obviously annoyed the Minder. "Please refrain from placing your feet on my table, Mr Rand. And for your information, the murder occurred very soon before you were transferred out of the 42nd. You must have just missed hearing about it." Again Jaq saw the look pass across the man's face, like a Pazaak player with 19 who had a +1T in his hand.
"You have a point to make about this, sir?"
"None at all, I just wished to gain an insight into your background." The man picked up a datapad and brought up a picture. "Now I'm going to show you a long series of pictures, and I want you to tell me what you see..."
10 minutes later
"Bear."
"Cruiser."
"Planet."
"Mutilated body."
A look of satisfaction rippled across Jaq's face as the Minder half leapt out of his seat.
"Wait, sorry, datapad."
"Very funny Rand. But that was the last picture. You can go back to your bunk, and I will have this report sent on to Commander Yali." He scrawled a few more notes on a piece of flimsy concealed from Jaq by a screen, and gestured to the door.
Jaq finished reading the report backwards through a mirror on the other side of the room, and stood up.
As he reached the door, he couldn't resist a parting comment. "A lack of willingness to submit to authority? Really, lieutenant?" Then he was through the door and into the waiting room, the door sliding shut behind him.
The minder sat thinking for a long time on his last patient. He's a tricky one. I don't want to end up like poor Giselle. Then the perfect idea dawned on him. I'll suggest that the Commander transfers him to the Specials. He'll learn his lesson there or he'll die. Win-win situation. The minder grinned in satisfaction, and stretched. That's one problem dealt with, time to see the next headcase
The minder pressed a button on his table, and in the waiting room a red ‘Next' sign lit up.
Jaq leapt out of his bunk, at the same time pulling his blaster from under his pillow. The young man who had just breezed into his room looked at him, his face registering faint surprise. Jaq noted the young face and new lieutenant rank insignia. He must make up in skill what he lacks in experience.
"I'm looking for a Cadet Jaq Rand."
"That's me." Cadet? So they decided to accept me. He grinned and holstered his blaster. As if they were going to do anything else with someone of my skills. They can't afford for me to work for the Republic instead.
"Pack your bag, Cadet, your being transferred. I don't know who arranged this for you, but they are either your greatest friend or your worst enemy. You're being transferred to the selection program for the Specials."
Something in his tone of voice reminded Jaq of a conversation he had overheard in the mess. "They say the Specials only accept the best, and if you make the grade, you have the best life imaginable. And if you don't..."
Jaq twirled his blaster and finally holstered it. He reached under his bed and picked up a clean kit-bag. "I'm already packed, let's go."
They arrived in the hanger, where an ugly, bulky Helios-class transport was waiting, with a mechanic detaching a pump from the fuel tank.
"That's your ship. The captain should be around here somewhere..." The corporal began to gaze around the hanger, searching.
"Have you ever met this captain?" The lieutenant shook his head. "Then don't be an idiot and look for someone you can't possibly identify." Jaq shook his head, amused at the young man's mistake.
The corporal turned, as if to caution him for being rude to a superior, but then they both saw something which shut them up. He suppressed a whistle, as a woman appeared from behind the transport. Tall and beautiful, with shoulder length brown hair, and wearing a tight fitting black jumpsuit. Glancing in their direction, she began to stride over, gliding gracefully over the floor.
"I'm Captain Correl. I take it you're my passenger?" Her voice was soft, but it carried a hard edge to it. Not one to mess with... At least, not without taking precautions.
Jaq extended his hand. "Cadet Jaq Rand." She simply glared at the hand until he lowered it.
The lieutenant was still gazing at her, seemingly in shock, and she stared at him for a moment, seemed to absorb all the information she could about him, and then casually brought her hand round, connected it with his temple, and floored him.
She turned away from the groaning man on the floor "You should watch where you're looking next time."
She walked to the ramp of the transport "You coming?"
Jaq grinned, and followed her onto the ship.
The Helios-class transport looked almost as unwieldy inside as it had outside, with cables hanging loose, and a fine layer of dust over most of the equipment.
Sensing his look of doubt, she smiled "It might not look like much, but this baby has survived this run many times, and I have her tricked out as much as is humanly possible." With that she disappeared into the cabin, sealing the door behind her.
Jaq felt a subtle change in the air, as he advanced towards another of the doors. The sound someone makes when they are trying really hard to be quiet. A slight vibration started to run up the soles of his boots. That same someone has jut switched on a vibroblade.
Jaq spun around, pulling out his blaster pistol only to have it wrenched from his hand by one of two hulking cloaked figures.
Without thinking, Jaq grabbed his first assailant, hurled the man over his outstretched leg, and heard the man's head hit the bulkhead with a resounding smack. He felt heat on his right arm as the other man's vibroblade sliced into his flesh, blood spilling over the floor.
Jaq's other hand came swinging round, hitting the man under the jaw. Blood sprayed as the man bit deep into his tongue, and in that moment, Jaq had smashed the hand carrying the vibroblade against the wall, making the man release his weapon. He kicked it to one side, and then sprang backwards, regarding his assailant.
He was cloaked head to foot in matte black, including black gloves and face mask. Unprofessional. Everyone knows dark grey is better camouflage in the dark. Jaq leaned back onto his right foot, deliberately leaving himself open for an attack.
He didn't have long to wait. The man leapt across the hold, grasping for Jaq's injured right arm. Too little, too late. Jaq stepped in, grabbing the man's airborne bulk, and spinning him round into a bulkhead, and then dropping him as he went limp.
Breathing deeply, Jaq sat down onto a folding chair, and tore off his right shirt sleeve, surveying the cut. Not too deep into the muscle, a few kolto injections and I'll be fine. The first assailant who had ambushed him stirred. Which is more than I can say about them.
He sprang down from his chair to kneel alongside the stirring attacker, pulled a knife from the other man's boot, and held it to his throat. He then proceeded to rip off the man's mask, showing a young man, roughly the same age as him, with short blond hair and a long scar on his left cheek.
"I thought they might send him." Captain Correl's voice sounded behind him, but he resisted the temptation to turn around. "There's no point trying to question him Jaq, they're just a test. Anyone who washes out from the Specials and survives is told they have one chance to get back in; kill one of the new recruits. If they refuse they die anyway, so each failed recruit goes out after a new cadet." She crouched down next to him "It is also a test of whether or not the new cadet can kill an unarmed opponent without remorse once they have them on the ground." The assassin's face lit up in terror. "Can you?"
"Easily."
Jaq flicked the knife down, expertly slicing through the man's jugular, diverting the sudden spray of the man's blood away from Correl and himself. The assassin shuddered several times, and then his eyes rolled into his head, and he was still.
"A good job, although you're cleaning up the mess later." She stretched luxuriantly "And now for the other one."
The other assassin was still laid out, unconscious on the deck. With a quick cut, this time to the Carotid artery, it was all over for him.
From a cupboard Correl pulled out a pair of body bags and a mop. "Mop up, zip ‘em up, and we'll space them before we make our final jump."
Despite the bodies around him, Jaq smiled "You weren't joking about cleaning up, were you?"
Grinning, she shook her head.
I guess this is what the Specials are like. Ruthless killers who laugh at murder and pain. His smile widened. Sound like my kind of people.
"Commander Yali. I have the autopsy report on Lieutenant Harigat. It appears that he survived the vibroblade wounds, but internal injuries from being beaten with a durasteel chair repeatedly caused internal injuries, and he suffered major organ failure before he could seek medical attention."
Commander Yali growled and turned around. "Tell me; is Cadet Rand still in system?"
"Ummm... let me check sir..." Yali's aide pulled out a datapad and bought up the relevant information. "It appears his ship just jumped to Hyperspace a few minutes ago, I'm afraid."
Yali's face darkened. "Inform Fangal Base that I want Rand arrested the moment he arrives. He has some questions to answer."
"Very good sir."
Jaq and Captain Correl sat with their feet up next to each other in the cockpit.
Jaq reached for his Juma. "So...do you still do active duty? Or is it all picking up us newbies and making sure we pass the first test?" He took a swig of the liquid.
"Oh I still get sent on missions Rand, don't worry about that. There's a lot of places a woman can get to that a man can't, and Command like opposite pairings when they send us after a Jedi, women after men, and vice versa, although that happens less and less now as more assignments get handed out in bulk by a computer." She knocked back her own Juma. "Force! This is foul stuff. If we weren't trapped away from civilisation for a week, I would be using it to clean the engine."
"However, we are trapped on this Force-forsaken vessel, so make the most of it, and consider yourself lucky; I've been stuck on a base with a zero-tolerance to alcohol principle, with not a drop of any alcohol, except that used for medicinal purposes, anywhere on base."
"True enough, and given how wounded you sound because of that traumatic experience, I think you'll like the Specials Base. It has free Juma at all hours as long as you aren't preparing for a mission." She smiled, reminiscing. "Although woe betide anyone who turns up to briefings or training sessions drunk. The Commander has ways of keeping you alive whilst in unimaginable pain that even I can't get the hang of, and trust me, anything on that topic comes naturally to me."
Jaq watched her movements become more exaggerated as she drank more and more Juma, whilst he only sipped his bottle. "About earlier. When I pulled the mask off the assassin, you said you thought they would send him. Did you know him well then?"
She grinned maliciously "His name was Gatsby Jekes. A complete wiseass all the time, always cracking stupid jokes. I knew that the Commander would send him on a suicide mission soon, good job on making an efficient kill."
"It was my pleasure." Jaq cracked his knuckles and took his first deep draught of the Juma. "If I hadn't got him then, I would probably have had to kill him later anyway. I hate the competition."
She sighed "Great. We dispose of one loudmouth and pick up another, one that is harder to kill off."
"Always good to be of service."
Jaq strolled down the gangway of the ship, with Captain Correl not far behind him. Awaiting him stood a man in an officer's uniform, but with no rank tabs, and six members of the LRS, the internal police of Revan's forces.
"So you must be Rand. I have been expecting you; you come with some very impressive recommendations on file." The officer, obviously the famed ‘Commander' spoke in a deep but calm voice. He was tall, with deep-set brown eyes, short black hair, and a muscular build. "However before we can speak more, there are a few bureaucratic measures to attend to." He gestured behind him. "These men have been sent to arrest you by Commander Yali for treason and the murder of Lieutenant Erwin Harigat. I will neither condemn nor condone their mission, but remember, once you are in the base proper, you no longer have to obey outsiders rules, only my rules...and Revan's."
Jaq understood what the man meant. If I can get into the base then I won't be punished for what I did. All I have to do is bring down six well-trained, heavily armed security men. Easy.
Jaq raised his arms, presenting his wrists towards the waiting hydro-cuffs that one of the security men was carrying. The security men heaved a collective sigh at the sight of their target not resisting.
Now that's just naïve.
Jaq leapt forward, grabbing the wrists of the guard holding the cuffs and hurling him into a second guard. Jaq used the momentum to spiral into another guard, his fist pounding into the man's throat; with a horribly organic sound, the man's windpipe gave way, and he fell to the ground.
But Jaq was still in motion. He reached down and pulled a knife from his boot, and swung it upwards into the fourth guard, finding the gap between the man's ribs and piercing his lungs. With a twist of the knife and a spray of gore, the man ceased breathing forever.
The fifth and sixth guards had reacted by then; each had drawn a stun-baton, levelled it in Jaq's direction, and began running towards him. Jaq dropped to the ground, swinging the knife round. He felt a breath resistance, and then an elastic sensation as he severed one of the guards' tendons in his knee, and the man collapsed to the ground, where Jaq's knife found his jugular, and, with a spray of blood, the man was silenced.
The sixth guard had spun around, astounded that he had missed his target, as Jaq hurled himself up off the floor and jammed the fifth guard's stun baton into his stomach. The man convulsed in Jaq's grip, and he swung the setting up to full power, stopping the man's heart.
By now the first guard had untangled himself from the second and was running at Jaq, his baton raised. Jaq hurled his own baton at the man, who ducked under the thrown object only to find Jaq's knife penetrating his skull, as the man himself danced forward and stabbed.
Jaq heard the rasp of metal on leather, and spun around. Standing eight meters away was the final guard, his blaster pistol raised, the sight centred on Jaq's head.
The man spoke, hatred and malice filling his voice. "I think, given what you've done here, we can save the military the cost of the court martial. Any last requests?"
Jaq spun the knife around his index finger, marvelling at the way the light caught the blade. He answered in a conversational tone "Just one; that you die. Now." Jaq snapped his fingers, sending the knife scything through the air.
The man looked shocked as the knife buried itself up to its hilt in his forehead, and collapsed.
"It's always nice when people do as I ask."
He turned to the Commander, who was standing next to Correl, a smile on his face. "Very good Rand, very good. I can see there is a lot we can do with you. Please, follow me."
The Commander walked through the pair of double doors at the other end of the Hanger, Jaq and Correl not far behind him.
"And now, this is the medical quarters. Have yourself checked out by the psychoanalyst, let the droid do a blood test, and then report to my office. I have a present for you." The Commander strode off, Correl walking beside him.
Great. Yet another Minder, thinking they know best. Jaq keyed the door switch and walked through the doors as they opened.
Inside stood a medical droid, a syringe in its hand. [Greetings. You must be Cadet Rand. Please present your arm for testing. This will be quick and painless.]
Jaq bared his upper arm, and allowed the droid to sink the needle deep into his vein, and withdraw a sample.
[Thank you for your cooperation. Please visit the Minder. She is in the first office down the corridor on your right.]
Jaq nodded and walked through the indicated door, where a young female Twi'lek was sat behind a desk, with teal skin and piercing orange eyes.
Her voice was soft and lilting, "Cadet Rand?" He nodded. "Excellent. Please be seated."
He sat in the seat facing her, and swung his feet up onto her desk, where she glanced at them, but otherwise took no notice.
"Now this is going to be slightly different from other sessions you may have had with Minders." She held up a collection of wires "I am going to use these to monitor your stress levels. I will attach these to your skull and then show you a series of images and see how you react to them." She stepped around the desk and wired him up.
He sat through the next ten minutes, being shown various images of mutilated bodies, torture, rape, murder, and other assorted pictures of violence, each enough to turn most people's stomachs.
At the end of it, she detached the sensors, looking mildly sickened herself, and sat back down. "All these images have been taken by agents of the Specials. You have to be prepared to tolerate them before you can join, hence the test." She keyed up the results onto her datapad, and her face took on a look of surprise, and she flinched almost imperceptibly. "You appear to have had some of the lowest reactions we have ever had to this test." She made some more notes on the datapad. "Congratulations, you've passed. All you need to do is hand this datacard to the Commander and you're in." She passed him the datacard.
She turned her chair so as to face him. "However there is one last thing. I would like you to have an in-depth brain scan. Your previous psychoanalysis suggests that you may suffer from a form of paranoid schizophrenia."
"Really now?" Jaq's voice took on a tone of extreme friendliness, of the type that, if heard in a bar, would have had the bartender removing the more expensive bottles from view. "Now that's a new one, I've been called psychotic, deranged, at one time someone called me criminally insane, but this is the first time I've been told I'm schizo. "
"Being asked to have a test is not the same as a diagnosis, Cadet Rand."
"True enough, however I won't be attending this psychoanalysis. It's a waste of time."
The Twi'lek frowned "I'm afraid that I can't allow that. A condition such as this could be a threat to the whole base. If you will not willingly submit to the test, I will have to have security compel you." She withdrew a comlink from a drawer.
"Bad move." Jaq gripped the edge of the desk, and heaved, tipping the desk up and crushing the Twi'lek's legs beneath it. With another push, she toppled off her chair, and he released the desk, allowing it to land on her chest. With two steps he reached down and plucked the comlink from her hand, as she twitched in shock at the sudden occurrence of events.
He crushed the comlink under his foot, and gazed down at her face, now illuminated with shock and fear as she began straining in an attempt to free herself from the heavy desk.
He spoke, his voice cold as Hoth, showing the Twi'lek just how bleak and short her future would be "No-one forces me to do anything. I do what I do because I choose to, and the day someone tries to change that is the day that that someone dies."
He pulled a knife from a sheath on his hip, and caressed the blade. "Hyporian steel. It can be made very light, and very thin. Perfect for a blade."
He crouched down next to her head, as she continued to frantically struggle under the desk. "I'm afraid this will hurt you a lot more than it hurts me." He seized one of her lekku, and allowed it to hang in the air for a few seconds, smiling as her eyes filled with abject terror. Then he brought his knife round and severed it with a single blow. Her face contorted and she began spasming, and blood began to pour out of the wound.
"An interesting fact about Twi'lek physiology is that although the lekku are parts of the Twi'lek's brain, they can survive without one of them for several years, and even if they loose both of them, they can survive for a few hours."
He brought the knife down on the second lekku, but failed to cleanly cut through it, and this time she was able to scream. It was a long, drawn out cry of absolute agony. He sawed through the rest of the lekku, as her scream rang on, and then brought the knife around to her throat. "This is a very easy way to permanently shut up a captive." The knife sliced clean through her vocal chords, and her scream died out as blood began to bubble into her mouth.
Jaq stood back, and savoured the look of agony and despair on her face. "Sometimes violence is truly an art form."
He secured his hands around her head and twisted. With a final jolt, the psychoanalyst lay still.
"I like to think of myself as quite the artist."

Description
"And you are?"
Jaq saluted. "Jaq Rand, I fought in the Mandalorian Wars, alongside Revan. He saved my life at Altir, Force-pushed away a soldier who was about to blow my internal organs away, and then he was gone, off to save someone else. That's all I ever saw Revan do, he was always trying to help someone else."
The man returned the salute, sat in the chair facing his patient, and gestured for him to sit as well. "Well, that's as good a reason as any to want to join up. You will have to be sent for re-training and analysis first of course. And on that subject, I have three different psycho-analysis reports of you. Two state you are as loyal as is humanly possible to the Republic and Revan, but the last is what interests me. The author says you are a sadistic, murderous scumbag who only joined the Republic for the joy of being able to harm other living beings."
Jaq put on his best Who? Me? look, sat down, and leaned back in the chair. "Really? I thought all my Minders took quite a shine to me."
The man smiled, but it didn't carry up into his eyes. He looked worried.
He obviously knows more about me than he is letting on. Jaq grinned back.
"The author of this particular report was unfortunately found stabbed to death in her office, so we can't obtain her reasons for feeling this way about you, but out of all of your minders, she was the person attached to your unit, 42nd Special Forces squad, the longest." A look of triumph briefly crossed the Minder's face, too quick for anyone not trained to notice small details to see. Unfortunately for him...
"Really now? When did she die? Was it after I had left?" Jaq put his feet up onto the coffee table in between them.
Although it wasn't visible in his voice, this action obviously annoyed the Minder. "Please refrain from placing your feet on my table, Mr Rand. And for your information, the murder occurred very soon before you were transferred out of the 42nd. You must have just missed hearing about it." Again Jaq saw the look pass across the man's face, like a Pazaak player with 19 who had a +1T in his hand.
"You have a point to make about this, sir?"
"None at all, I just wished to gain an insight into your background." The man picked up a datapad and brought up a picture. "Now I'm going to show you a long series of pictures, and I want you to tell me what you see..."
10 minutes later
"Bear."
"Cruiser."
"Planet."
"Mutilated body."
A look of satisfaction rippled across Jaq's face as the Minder half leapt out of his seat.
"Wait, sorry, datapad."
"Very funny Rand. But that was the last picture. You can go back to your bunk, and I will have this report sent on to Commander Yali." He scrawled a few more notes on a piece of flimsy concealed from Jaq by a screen, and gestured to the door.
Jaq finished reading the report backwards through a mirror on the other side of the room, and stood up.
As he reached the door, he couldn't resist a parting comment. "A lack of willingness to submit to authority? Really, lieutenant?" Then he was through the door and into the waiting room, the door sliding shut behind him.
The minder sat thinking for a long time on his last patient. He's a tricky one. I don't want to end up like poor Giselle. Then the perfect idea dawned on him. I'll suggest that the Commander transfers him to the Specials. He'll learn his lesson there or he'll die. Win-win situation. The minder grinned in satisfaction, and stretched. That's one problem dealt with, time to see the next headcase
The minder pressed a button on his table, and in the waiting room a red ‘Next' sign lit up.
Jaq leapt out of his bunk, at the same time pulling his blaster from under his pillow. The young man who had just breezed into his room looked at him, his face registering faint surprise. Jaq noted the young face and new lieutenant rank insignia. He must make up in skill what he lacks in experience.
"I'm looking for a Cadet Jaq Rand."
"That's me." Cadet? So they decided to accept me. He grinned and holstered his blaster. As if they were going to do anything else with someone of my skills. They can't afford for me to work for the Republic instead.
"Pack your bag, Cadet, your being transferred. I don't know who arranged this for you, but they are either your greatest friend or your worst enemy. You're being transferred to the selection program for the Specials."
Something in his tone of voice reminded Jaq of a conversation he had overheard in the mess. "They say the Specials only accept the best, and if you make the grade, you have the best life imaginable. And if you don't..."
Jaq twirled his blaster and finally holstered it. He reached under his bed and picked up a clean kit-bag. "I'm already packed, let's go."
They arrived in the hanger, where an ugly, bulky Helios-class transport was waiting, with a mechanic detaching a pump from the fuel tank.
"That's your ship. The captain should be around here somewhere..." The corporal began to gaze around the hanger, searching.
"Have you ever met this captain?" The lieutenant shook his head. "Then don't be an idiot and look for someone you can't possibly identify." Jaq shook his head, amused at the young man's mistake.
The corporal turned, as if to caution him for being rude to a superior, but then they both saw something which shut them up. He suppressed a whistle, as a woman appeared from behind the transport. Tall and beautiful, with shoulder length brown hair, and wearing a tight fitting black jumpsuit. Glancing in their direction, she began to stride over, gliding gracefully over the floor.
"I'm Captain Correl. I take it you're my passenger?" Her voice was soft, but it carried a hard edge to it. Not one to mess with... At least, not without taking precautions.
Jaq extended his hand. "Cadet Jaq Rand." She simply glared at the hand until he lowered it.
The lieutenant was still gazing at her, seemingly in shock, and she stared at him for a moment, seemed to absorb all the information she could about him, and then casually brought her hand round, connected it with his temple, and floored him.
She turned away from the groaning man on the floor "You should watch where you're looking next time."
She walked to the ramp of the transport "You coming?"
Jaq grinned, and followed her onto the ship.
The Helios-class transport looked almost as unwieldy inside as it had outside, with cables hanging loose, and a fine layer of dust over most of the equipment.
Sensing his look of doubt, she smiled "It might not look like much, but this baby has survived this run many times, and I have her tricked out as much as is humanly possible." With that she disappeared into the cabin, sealing the door behind her.
Jaq felt a subtle change in the air, as he advanced towards another of the doors. The sound someone makes when they are trying really hard to be quiet. A slight vibration started to run up the soles of his boots. That same someone has jut switched on a vibroblade.
Jaq spun around, pulling out his blaster pistol only to have it wrenched from his hand by one of two hulking cloaked figures.
Without thinking, Jaq grabbed his first assailant, hurled the man over his outstretched leg, and heard the man's head hit the bulkhead with a resounding smack. He felt heat on his right arm as the other man's vibroblade sliced into his flesh, blood spilling over the floor.
Jaq's other hand came swinging round, hitting the man under the jaw. Blood sprayed as the man bit deep into his tongue, and in that moment, Jaq had smashed the hand carrying the vibroblade against the wall, making the man release his weapon. He kicked it to one side, and then sprang backwards, regarding his assailant.
He was cloaked head to foot in matte black, including black gloves and face mask. Unprofessional. Everyone knows dark grey is better camouflage in the dark. Jaq leaned back onto his right foot, deliberately leaving himself open for an attack.
He didn't have long to wait. The man leapt across the hold, grasping for Jaq's injured right arm. Too little, too late. Jaq stepped in, grabbing the man's airborne bulk, and spinning him round into a bulkhead, and then dropping him as he went limp.
Breathing deeply, Jaq sat down onto a folding chair, and tore off his right shirt sleeve, surveying the cut. Not too deep into the muscle, a few kolto injections and I'll be fine. The first assailant who had ambushed him stirred. Which is more than I can say about them.
He sprang down from his chair to kneel alongside the stirring attacker, pulled a knife from the other man's boot, and held it to his throat. He then proceeded to rip off the man's mask, showing a young man, roughly the same age as him, with short blond hair and a long scar on his left cheek.
"I thought they might send him." Captain Correl's voice sounded behind him, but he resisted the temptation to turn around. "There's no point trying to question him Jaq, they're just a test. Anyone who washes out from the Specials and survives is told they have one chance to get back in; kill one of the new recruits. If they refuse they die anyway, so each failed recruit goes out after a new cadet." She crouched down next to him "It is also a test of whether or not the new cadet can kill an unarmed opponent without remorse once they have them on the ground." The assassin's face lit up in terror. "Can you?"
"Easily."
Jaq flicked the knife down, expertly slicing through the man's jugular, diverting the sudden spray of the man's blood away from Correl and himself. The assassin shuddered several times, and then his eyes rolled into his head, and he was still.
"A good job, although you're cleaning up the mess later." She stretched luxuriantly "And now for the other one."
The other assassin was still laid out, unconscious on the deck. With a quick cut, this time to the Carotid artery, it was all over for him.
From a cupboard Correl pulled out a pair of body bags and a mop. "Mop up, zip ‘em up, and we'll space them before we make our final jump."
Despite the bodies around him, Jaq smiled "You weren't joking about cleaning up, were you?"
Grinning, she shook her head.
I guess this is what the Specials are like. Ruthless killers who laugh at murder and pain. His smile widened. Sound like my kind of people.
"Commander Yali. I have the autopsy report on Lieutenant Harigat. It appears that he survived the vibroblade wounds, but internal injuries from being beaten with a durasteel chair repeatedly caused internal injuries, and he suffered major organ failure before he could seek medical attention."
Commander Yali growled and turned around. "Tell me; is Cadet Rand still in system?"
"Ummm... let me check sir..." Yali's aide pulled out a datapad and bought up the relevant information. "It appears his ship just jumped to Hyperspace a few minutes ago, I'm afraid."
Yali's face darkened. "Inform Fangal Base that I want Rand arrested the moment he arrives. He has some questions to answer."
"Very good sir."
Jaq and Captain Correl sat with their feet up next to each other in the cockpit.
Jaq reached for his Juma. "So...do you still do active duty? Or is it all picking up us newbies and making sure we pass the first test?" He took a swig of the liquid.
"Oh I still get sent on missions Rand, don't worry about that. There's a lot of places a woman can get to that a man can't, and Command like opposite pairings when they send us after a Jedi, women after men, and vice versa, although that happens less and less now as more assignments get handed out in bulk by a computer." She knocked back her own Juma. "Force! This is foul stuff. If we weren't trapped away from civilisation for a week, I would be using it to clean the engine."
"However, we are trapped on this Force-forsaken vessel, so make the most of it, and consider yourself lucky; I've been stuck on a base with a zero-tolerance to alcohol principle, with not a drop of any alcohol, except that used for medicinal purposes, anywhere on base."
"True enough, and given how wounded you sound because of that traumatic experience, I think you'll like the Specials Base. It has free Juma at all hours as long as you aren't preparing for a mission." She smiled, reminiscing. "Although woe betide anyone who turns up to briefings or training sessions drunk. The Commander has ways of keeping you alive whilst in unimaginable pain that even I can't get the hang of, and trust me, anything on that topic comes naturally to me."
Jaq watched her movements become more exaggerated as she drank more and more Juma, whilst he only sipped his bottle. "About earlier. When I pulled the mask off the assassin, you said you thought they would send him. Did you know him well then?"
She grinned maliciously "His name was Gatsby Jekes. A complete wiseass all the time, always cracking stupid jokes. I knew that the Commander would send him on a suicide mission soon, good job on making an efficient kill."
"It was my pleasure." Jaq cracked his knuckles and took his first deep draught of the Juma. "If I hadn't got him then, I would probably have had to kill him later anyway. I hate the competition."
She sighed "Great. We dispose of one loudmouth and pick up another, one that is harder to kill off."
"Always good to be of service."
Jaq strolled down the gangway of the ship, with Captain Correl not far behind him. Awaiting him stood a man in an officer's uniform, but with no rank tabs, and six members of the LRS, the internal police of Revan's forces.
"So you must be Rand. I have been expecting you; you come with some very impressive recommendations on file." The officer, obviously the famed ‘Commander' spoke in a deep but calm voice. He was tall, with deep-set brown eyes, short black hair, and a muscular build. "However before we can speak more, there are a few bureaucratic measures to attend to." He gestured behind him. "These men have been sent to arrest you by Commander Yali for treason and the murder of Lieutenant Erwin Harigat. I will neither condemn nor condone their mission, but remember, once you are in the base proper, you no longer have to obey outsiders rules, only my rules...and Revan's."
Jaq understood what the man meant. If I can get into the base then I won't be punished for what I did. All I have to do is bring down six well-trained, heavily armed security men. Easy.
Jaq raised his arms, presenting his wrists towards the waiting hydro-cuffs that one of the security men was carrying. The security men heaved a collective sigh at the sight of their target not resisting.
Now that's just naïve.
Jaq leapt forward, grabbing the wrists of the guard holding the cuffs and hurling him into a second guard. Jaq used the momentum to spiral into another guard, his fist pounding into the man's throat; with a horribly organic sound, the man's windpipe gave way, and he fell to the ground.
But Jaq was still in motion. He reached down and pulled a knife from his boot, and swung it upwards into the fourth guard, finding the gap between the man's ribs and piercing his lungs. With a twist of the knife and a spray of gore, the man ceased breathing forever.
The fifth and sixth guards had reacted by then; each had drawn a stun-baton, levelled it in Jaq's direction, and began running towards him. Jaq dropped to the ground, swinging the knife round. He felt a breath resistance, and then an elastic sensation as he severed one of the guards' tendons in his knee, and the man collapsed to the ground, where Jaq's knife found his jugular, and, with a spray of blood, the man was silenced.
The sixth guard had spun around, astounded that he had missed his target, as Jaq hurled himself up off the floor and jammed the fifth guard's stun baton into his stomach. The man convulsed in Jaq's grip, and he swung the setting up to full power, stopping the man's heart.
By now the first guard had untangled himself from the second and was running at Jaq, his baton raised. Jaq hurled his own baton at the man, who ducked under the thrown object only to find Jaq's knife penetrating his skull, as the man himself danced forward and stabbed.
Jaq heard the rasp of metal on leather, and spun around. Standing eight meters away was the final guard, his blaster pistol raised, the sight centred on Jaq's head.
The man spoke, hatred and malice filling his voice. "I think, given what you've done here, we can save the military the cost of the court martial. Any last requests?"
Jaq spun the knife around his index finger, marvelling at the way the light caught the blade. He answered in a conversational tone "Just one; that you die. Now." Jaq snapped his fingers, sending the knife scything through the air.
The man looked shocked as the knife buried itself up to its hilt in his forehead, and collapsed.
"It's always nice when people do as I ask."
He turned to the Commander, who was standing next to Correl, a smile on his face. "Very good Rand, very good. I can see there is a lot we can do with you. Please, follow me."
The Commander walked through the pair of double doors at the other end of the Hanger, Jaq and Correl not far behind him.
"And now, this is the medical quarters. Have yourself checked out by the psychoanalyst, let the droid do a blood test, and then report to my office. I have a present for you." The Commander strode off, Correl walking beside him.
Great. Yet another Minder, thinking they know best. Jaq keyed the door switch and walked through the doors as they opened.
Inside stood a medical droid, a syringe in its hand. [Greetings. You must be Cadet Rand. Please present your arm for testing. This will be quick and painless.]
Jaq bared his upper arm, and allowed the droid to sink the needle deep into his vein, and withdraw a sample.
[Thank you for your cooperation. Please visit the Minder. She is in the first office down the corridor on your right.]
Jaq nodded and walked through the indicated door, where a young female Twi'lek was sat behind a desk, with teal skin and piercing orange eyes.
Her voice was soft and lilting, "Cadet Rand?" He nodded. "Excellent. Please be seated."
He sat in the seat facing her, and swung his feet up onto her desk, where she glanced at them, but otherwise took no notice.
"Now this is going to be slightly different from other sessions you may have had with Minders." She held up a collection of wires "I am going to use these to monitor your stress levels. I will attach these to your skull and then show you a series of images and see how you react to them." She stepped around the desk and wired him up.
He sat through the next ten minutes, being shown various images of mutilated bodies, torture, rape, murder, and other assorted pictures of violence, each enough to turn most people's stomachs.
At the end of it, she detached the sensors, looking mildly sickened herself, and sat back down. "All these images have been taken by agents of the Specials. You have to be prepared to tolerate them before you can join, hence the test." She keyed up the results onto her datapad, and her face took on a look of surprise, and she flinched almost imperceptibly. "You appear to have had some of the lowest reactions we have ever had to this test." She made some more notes on the datapad. "Congratulations, you've passed. All you need to do is hand this datacard to the Commander and you're in." She passed him the datacard.
She turned her chair so as to face him. "However there is one last thing. I would like you to have an in-depth brain scan. Your previous psychoanalysis suggests that you may suffer from a form of paranoid schizophrenia."
"Really now?" Jaq's voice took on a tone of extreme friendliness, of the type that, if heard in a bar, would have had the bartender removing the more expensive bottles from view. "Now that's a new one, I've been called psychotic, deranged, at one time someone called me criminally insane, but this is the first time I've been told I'm schizo. "
"Being asked to have a test is not the same as a diagnosis, Cadet Rand."
"True enough, however I won't be attending this psychoanalysis. It's a waste of time."
The Twi'lek frowned "I'm afraid that I can't allow that. A condition such as this could be a threat to the whole base. If you will not willingly submit to the test, I will have to have security compel you." She withdrew a comlink from a drawer.
"Bad move." Jaq gripped the edge of the desk, and heaved, tipping the desk up and crushing the Twi'lek's legs beneath it. With another push, she toppled off her chair, and he released the desk, allowing it to land on her chest. With two steps he reached down and plucked the comlink from her hand, as she twitched in shock at the sudden occurrence of events.
He crushed the comlink under his foot, and gazed down at her face, now illuminated with shock and fear as she began straining in an attempt to free herself from the heavy desk.
He spoke, his voice cold as Hoth, showing the Twi'lek just how bleak and short her future would be "No-one forces me to do anything. I do what I do because I choose to, and the day someone tries to change that is the day that that someone dies."
He pulled a knife from a sheath on his hip, and caressed the blade. "Hyporian steel. It can be made very light, and very thin. Perfect for a blade."
He crouched down next to her head, as she continued to frantically struggle under the desk. "I'm afraid this will hurt you a lot more than it hurts me." He seized one of her lekku, and allowed it to hang in the air for a few seconds, smiling as her eyes filled with abject terror. Then he brought his knife round and severed it with a single blow. Her face contorted and she began spasming, and blood began to pour out of the wound.
"An interesting fact about Twi'lek physiology is that although the lekku are parts of the Twi'lek's brain, they can survive without one of them for several years, and even if they loose both of them, they can survive for a few hours."
He brought the knife down on the second lekku, but failed to cleanly cut through it, and this time she was able to scream. It was a long, drawn out cry of absolute agony. He sawed through the rest of the lekku, as her scream rang on, and then brought the knife around to her throat. "This is a very easy way to permanently shut up a captive." The knife sliced clean through her vocal chords, and her scream died out as blood began to bubble into her mouth.
Jaq stood back, and savoured the look of agony and despair on her face. "Sometimes violence is truly an art form."
He secured his hands around her head and twisted. With a final jolt, the psychoanalyst lay still.
"I like to think of myself as quite the artist."