A hunt on Huk

[Logan Shivers]

A solitary hunt.

(Sometime before the Carlac war)

Out in the far reaches of a sector known simply as Wild Space, a lonely planet orbits its star. Huk is mostly uninhabited, or rather, it holds no major habitation centres. The planet is too far from anywhere civilized, it is a hiding ground for the scum of the galaxy and it is completely over run with aggressive creatures that will kill just for the thrill of it. And of course, for exactly those reasons, Logan loves it.

The Black Dragon had slipped out of hyper a few hour back and was in the last stages of its descent to the planet. A nice patch of flat grassland had been chosen as a landing site, allowing for a clear view of any hostile activity. As it came closer to the surface its rate of descent slowed rapidly and it eventually came to rest with a gentle bump, flattening a large area of long grass.

Inside the ships hangar bay, Logan hefted the last crate from a sled and carried it into an SRV 1, stacking it securely with the two dozen or so other crates in there. Rather than his customary heavy battle armour suit, Logan wore lightweight hide armour covering his torso. It was black with silver studsover the shoulders. This was over a long sleeved, tight fitting top and black leather trousers, tucked into almost knee length boots with heavy silver buckles instead of laces.

“Your sure you got all you need? A month is a long time….”

Logan held his hand up to stop Janev from going on. He was a good friend, but he worried far too much.

“If I cant survive a mere month on this rock, I don’t deserve the respect of our forces. And if I don’t deserve that, I don’t deserve command of Pitch Black. Enough Janev, it is not the first time, it will not likely be the last.”

“It took two weeks to find you last time, and a month for you to recover….”

“Yes, it was an excellent hunt!”

Logan punched Janev on his upper arm and pushed him out of the SRV.

“Go open the damn hangar doors so I can drive this thing out, and you can get on your way. I am not paying you to stand around here gassing.”

With that Logan hit the door close button and Janev was hidden from view by the heavy outer door clanking shut. The SRV was a sturdy vehicle. Not the fastest, not the most heavily armed, but solid none the less. Logan had grown to like them as a vehicle. Pretty roomy inside, he tended to keep this one pretty sparce and functional. A storage area, his cabin, a little galley and the cockpit. The larger communal area which would normally hold any rescued sentients had been converted into a series of cells. It was good to have a secure place just in case he got lucky and stumbled across anyone or anything worth keeping instead of killing.

He climbed into the cockpit and powered up the main generators. Satisfied that all were working just fine he nudged the SRV forward. The huge hangar doors were sliding open and the ramp was almost fully extended. Logan spotted Janev giving a half hearted salute and he returned the gesture. Then all he could see ahead of him was glorious green, for miles around. The SRV came down the ramp and plunged into the thick wild grassland. He increased the speed and the reliable steed pushed on through the sea of vegetation like a ship through a calm sea.

Logan cut a wide arc towards the South and after only ten minutes or so found himself in the shadow of the Black Dragon, Janev clearly showing off by flying the huge ship mere metres above his vehicle. The ship pulled ahead and then lifted off into the blue sky, gracefully arcing upwards, diminishing in sie until it was nothing but a spec, and then nothing.

It was only then that Logan relaxed. For the next month he was not the leader of a military force, he was not a commander of a mercenary consortium. He was simply Logan Shivers. No title and only imself.. oh, and the SRV perhaps.

[Logan Shivers]

The woodlands

To begin with, the woodlands were open and airy, with mostly young trees widely spaced out and little in the way of undergrowth other than grass, fungi and some flowers of one kind or another dotted around. The SRV navigated the terrain easily, even when it became quite hilly, but Logan knew from past visits that he would not be able to use the vehicle for much longer. It would get him to the denser parts of the vast woodland within a day, and then he could find a place to conceal it whilst he went off on foot.

It did amaze him, if he thought about it, that despite the planet being more or less infested with the scum of the universe, you could travel the younger forrest areas for days without being seen, without any danger of it at all. The vermin were so paranoid of being found in their illicit camps that they stayed deep within the oldest parts of the forrest, or in the mountains that jutted out of the deep forest like giant, white tipped, grey arrowheads. They had oddly slanted sides, the geography of the planet making them quite distinct. It took a good climber to scale some of the steepest ones, and an accomplished survivalist to live on them. Logan tended to avoid them though. He knew he could no doubt find something of interest on them, but he just preferred not to expose himself to the cold, when the nice, partly humid forest was just so much more convenient.

Not long after sunset, Logan arrived at his planned first stop. The SRV came to a halt amongst the trees, the quiet engines becoming silent. Logan had not been running the powerful lights the vehicle possessed, instead relying on his sensitive eyes to navigate. He could see a vast area of blackness dead ahead, spreading out like a blotch of ink on paper. From past visits he knew this was the lake he tended to use as a starting point for many of his expeditions on Huk.

Stepping out of the vehicle onto the soft, grass covered ground, Logan dragged with him several crates. He stacked a dozen of them against a tree and returned for a couple more. In a well practiced routine, he set up a camp. A natural depression in the ground just off to the side provided a great spot as it was also mostly surrounded by bramble bushes to further obscure sight. He unpacked the crates and heaped the empty containers back in the SRV. Logan tapped the door close on the vehicle and once it sealed he produced a remote from a pocket on his belt and set the SRV into motion, driving it into the lake. He had discovered that the ground sloped gently inwards for about a mile so he knew the vehicle was not likely to suddenly drop off an underwater cliff at any point. He kept it going forward until its top was covered by the dark waters of the lake, and then in a bit further for good measure. Putting the remote away, he returned to his camp.

There was no need for a fire, it was a warm enough night so Logan just set about the perimeter placing traps. Once he was happy that his perimeter was adequately secure, he seated himself on a thick log he found and began to check his weapons. He had checked them before he left the Black Dragon of course, but one could never be too cautious, your weapons were your life after all.

Firstly his Ryyk blade, that would prove extremely useful in the much thicker undergrowth of the older forest. It was polised to a high sheen and sharp as a razor. Logan grabbed a tin of greenish brown paste and smeared a thin coating onto the blade. The effect was subtle, but it took away all reflective shine from the blade and hid the silver colour against the ambient greens and browns of his surroundings. Once done he placed the blade in its scabbard and went through the same process with several knives of various sizes. Next came the long range weapons. His beautifull Nightstinger got an overhaul, ensuring it was fully functional and its power pack charged. He also checked the spares to ensure they too were fully charged. A pair of ELG’s was next and finally his rotating cannon, just in case he had to deal with any heavily armoured entities.

The two rifles went into a netting bag, the ELG’s strapped to his waist in holsters. Calves, forearms, thighs and upper arms all got sheathed knives strapped to them, his Ryyk was strapped across his back, with the hilt in easy reach above his shoulder. Spare power packs got placed in secure pockets along his belt, four sets of throwing knives in holsters on his torso. He checked his medi it, it was loaded with bacta pads, bacta fjuid, stim packs and other life saving gubbins. He placed that in a large backpack along with dried food rations, binders, a long length of high tensile cord, a pair of macros and a tatty looking green and brown cloak. A bedroll got tied onto the top, a small pickaxe and spade tied to its side, water canties to the other.

The remainder of his gear got stowed onto a sled and fastened securely with some more netting. A quick check on local time showed him that he still had five yours until sunrise so Logan set his back against a tree trunk and, secure in the knowledge his perimeter security was tight, he went into a light sleep.

[Logan Shivers]

The next day saw Logan awake and refreshed. He wasted no time in grabbing his gear, tying the sled to his belt loop with a high tensile cord and off he went, setting himself a steady pace that he would be able to keep up for most of the day.

His target was a conical mountain that Logan had named the slab. It was a grey, lifeless slab of rock jutting out of the lush green forest that he knew all too well was used as a landmark by slavers to navigate the otherwise unchanging sea of green for hundreds, if not thousands of miles around. Whilst it was used as a navigational reference, for exactly that reason nobody used it as a staging area or camping fround, it was simply too visible. Logan had taken the time to explore it and knew it contained a handy cave network that allowed you to pop out all over the slab and keep an eye on the surrounding regions and more importantly, the sky. Once a camp was established on the ground, it was almost impossible to find it unless you were lucky, or had a speeder with a decent sensor pack to run scouting runs. But that would then give you away and by the time you got to an interesting camp, they were ready to cut you down.

So Logan tended to play the patient game. He would ensconce himself in the cave network and hunt his prey from its heights. It never took longer than a week to spot worthwhile activity and there was usually plenty of game around to hunt if he got bored, or hungry and needed to stretch his legs.

By the time he took his midday break, the top half of the slab was clearly visible on the horizon. He was over half way there and knew that the ground beneath him would soon start to elevate into the foothills, which would eventually turn to a stony, hard packed ground with just a few hardened plants managing to survive. From there, it got steeper and steeper until he found the “big crack”. Another ingeniously named feature of the slab, named by Logan. A split in the side of the mountain that you could just about get into if you climbed up 20 metres or so.

Logan took his time over his lunch, drank heartily from his waterskin and smacked his lips at the tangy taste of the liquor inside. It contained some water… he thought? Perhaps? Didn’t all liquids that you could drink contain water? Ah well, it was good and it kept him feeling alive! A strange brew that he had been introduced to whilst on a wild binge with Oquan.

Less than half an hour later, and feeling revitalised, he set off again at the same, relentless jog that had seen him cover the miles steadily all morning.

[Logan Shivers]

The vigil pays off.

Logan had reached the slab four days ago. He was fully set up and had several observation posts set up along the steep sides of the rocky mountain sides. His favourite perch however was what he called the nest, high up near the highest peak of the monolith. From here he used his nightstinger scope to scan the skies, but also the forest around him for signs of movement. He was prepared for a long wait, it could take weeks before he spotted incoming ships, but he hoped not this time as he only had a month of free time before the Dragon would be back to take bim on to his next assignment.

As the light in the sky dimmed to a darker shade of blue and the shadow of the slab stretched far into the forest to the west Logan decided to do one more visual sweep before he left it to his various sensors and recorders to do the hard work overnight. Just as he was scanning across the Northern horizon his keen eye was cought by a flicker of movement. His heart fluttered but he tried to keep himself in check. There were plenty of avian species on this planet and some of the nightime hunters would be just beginning to stir…. But he concentrated scanning back and forth to try and find that movement again.

There is was, high on the horizon just where the sky changed from the brightness of the setting sun, the the darkness of the pending night. He focused on it, wishing his scope had even more power. The thing was flying too smoothly though, too straight and purposeful to be a hunting avian of any sort. It would also have to be enormous for him to be able to see it further out than his scanners could pick it up. Time went by and Logan followed the spec as it flew into the dark, and kept on watching as it came marginally closer in a trajectory the would most likely bring it into his sensor range just before it flipped out again, continuing its journey.

THERE!... His communications unit bleeped as it received an alert from a sensor out in the forest. This was quickly followed by three others, in various locations around the slab, the hidden array picking up the flying spec and triangulating an exact position, flight path, estimated landing point and most critically, working out what it was. Or, as it turned out, what they were. Three ships flying in tight formation, one courier transport flanked by two aggressors. That was an interesting combination of ships and he could only imagine that the transport was either bringing in some slaves or was coming in to pick some up. Had it been an illegal munitions drop or pick up, they would have chosen something else, something that was designed more for fast cargo hauling, some sort of YT was the usual choice.

Logan smiled. Perhaps the Scorekeeper was showing him favour this day. He checked the sensor information whilst still keeping his eye on the now diminishing spec until it vanished beyond the now dark treeline some miles away. He checked the estimated landing position and checked it against what he had tracked visually afte the ships had left his sensors catchment area and was satisfied that the ship had not altered its trajectory, not noticeably. Gathering his backpack, heavy belt, rifle net and the cords of the sled harness he took a run to the lip of the shallow depression that was the nest and as he jumped up high, he yanked the sled forward. It floated out beneath him and he landed on it, clamping his strong hands and feet onto the netting tied around its remaining cargo. The sled, designed only to hover a couple of feet above ground level floated out into nothingness and gravity took hold. The nose pointed down and the sled began to fall down the side of the mountain. Its ability to stay a few feet in the air however kept it from crashing and so it raced down the slopes at a breakneck speed, completely out of control. Logan wooped and yelled in exhilaration. As suicidal as this appeared to be, he had done it a dozen times before in the full light of day, and with an empty sled to begin with to test the theory. Ever cautious, he had wanted a fast escape route just in case his little nest at the peak was ever spotted by a ship that decided to come take a look and shoot at him, but he had found it was that much fun that he now used it simply as a quick way down the mountain.

He was in the foothills within moments and would be amongst the trees of the forest any second. He threw out a heavily knotted rope that was tied to the rear end of the sled and waited as its weight and the drag created by the knots snagging momentarily against the ground slowly cut the sleds speed down to a less suicidal pace. He pulled out a heavy metal rod next and dragged it against the ground on either side of the sled, the friction helping to steer the thing as well as slow its momentum further. Managing to avoid crashing into any trees or large boulders, Logan finally steered the sled to a halt about a hundred metres into the forest. His heart racing with adrenaline rushing through his veins, he climbed off the makeshift vehicle, tied himself into the harness and set course for the location of the landing site. Yet again he set the pace at one that he could keep up for hours so that he did not tire himself out. He knew he had a long distance to cover before morning.

[Logan Shivers]

Discovery

After a ten hour run, even Logan had to give in and slow to a walk. His limbs protested, they wanted to cease and stop completely but he know that to do that would mean he would not be functional the next day. You had to cool down slowly after such lengthy and strenuous exertion. As he walked he reached into his heavy belt and drew out a syringe. It was pre-loaded with a reviving bacta mix, something that would help his muscles repair the tearing damage he had caused on his run. He jabbed the needle in to the softer skin by his neck and felt the cold of the bacta spreading outwards like a pulse.

After another hour of walking he finally decided he had travelled far enough and that it was time to rest. He was confident that the ships he had seen had landed no more than a couple of miles away so he would not have a long journey in the morning, once he was rested. Perimiter checked, traps set, Logan settled down to a light sleep that would be sufficient to revive him for the forthcoming days events, whatever they panned out to be.


As expected, the next day brough with it some serious aches and pains, but it was nothing Logan had not expected and planned for. He gave himself another dose of bacta and topped it up with some stims, then sat on the ground for a while in quiet contemplation, waiting for the drugs to take effect and listening hard to his surroundings. The minutes passed until he was finally satisfied that he was ready. He got up, ignoring the continuing protests of his limbs, although much more distant now, they were still there as reminders of his hours long run the previous day. He went through the ritual check and clear up of his traps, was pleasantly surprised at the capture of a small furry creature of some sort that seemed very edible indeed, and returned to his camp. Logan prepared the creature but did not use it for his morning meal. He instead packed it in a preservative wrap and stored it on his sled. For the morning meal something more reliable… travel rations he had brought with him, packed full of all the nutrients his species required for the perfect meal. Tasted a bit like he imagined eating grass would… mildly unpleasant with a real earthy hit, but he chomped away at it anyway, knowing it to be a safe meal to have before a day of action.

Meal done, Logan gathered together his gear and re-allocated all his belongings amongst the backpack, heavy belt, the sled and his person. He then unpowered the sled, pinned it down between a thick tree, a rock and an overgrown bush and used the camouflage netting to hide it from view. He took a step back and circled the spot, ensuring that the disguise was good from all angles and when he was finally satisfied all was good, he marked the coordinates of the location on his datapad and grabbed the remainder of his belongings.
Backpack on, rifle bag in one hand, blade in the other and a sensor array softly glowing on his wrist, Logan trotted of in thet direction of the ships flight path all those hours ago.

It took approximately two and a half hours before his sensor pack strapped to his wrist blurted out its first warning. At this distance it could only make out a mass of life forms and non organic matter clustered together, but he knew that would be broken down the closer he got. The trick was to not let their sensors find him though, because as he came closer, any sensors they had set up would alert them to his presence.

Logan took a moment to retrieve the somewhat tattered looking green and brown cloak from his pack and put it on. The garment was a lot more than it appeared to be, with in built scram lers to scatter any sensors that tried to read him. It was not infalable, and he would have to move with caution and a steady, unhurried pace in order to use it to its full capability. Any sudden or fast moves would bring an alert up on enemy sensors even if they could not work out what it was they spotted, just… a something.

A full hour later Logan was high up in the thick branches of a tree, his macros glued to his eyes whilst he scanned his surroundings. He had managed to get to within a couple of hundred metres of the camp without being spotted and was now using this vantage point to spy on their activities.

It became obvious quickly that this was indeed a group of slavers and as luck would have it, with a substantial number of slaves with them. It was quickly becoming apparent to Logan that although they were more than vigilant when it came to their captives, the slavers were not overly concerned with their surroundings. The ships were powered up, no doubt providing their sensors protection against intruders, but a single sentient was often too small for sensors like that to pick up. They were designed to pinpoint ships and vehicles mostly, or huge creatures even, but not so attuned to solo individual sentients, making his cloaks work that much easier.

There was also a perimeter patrol of sorts, once an hour a couple of the slavers would take a hike around the camp, slashing and hacking their way through any undergrowth that may prove a useful hiding place for anyonw, but they paid little attention really. They chatted and bragged, boasted and ridiculed but the patrol was just a walk, they were going through the motions as they had been told to. Their lack of vigilance would make this a much easier job, especially as there was at least 10 of the slavers that Logan could see, perhaps a couple more on the ships?

It was time to make a plan.

[Logan Shivers]

The cages.

As seemed to be the case with slavers, they were human, their “stock” was a mixture of species, but non-human. Logan had spotted the sturdy cages at one edge of the camp, set up right against a cluster of trees and thick, thorny branmble bushes. This was a bonus for Logan. The over confident, elitist idiots seemed to forget that other species did not have the weak, soft skin of humans that got snagged on such petty barbs. A Trandoshans scaled hide would turn away the sharp thorns as durasteel would his bare claws.

With that in mind he entered his meditative state that would allow him to approach in utter stealth. Logan had always been a natural at this, from his early days of hunting game, and in recent years he had only become better, since his affinity to the force was discovered and he could use that to enhance his natural skills. Thus he found himself on his stomach under the thickest patch of branble, watching and waiting. The bush stuck out into the cage at this point which meant he had been able to get himself right up to the bars and study the inhabitants. Most were emaciated and clearly abused. In their weakened state they would be no help to him. But he had spotted two candidates, possibly freshly caught? They seems relatively healthy and still full of rage at their capture, something the others lacked, having given in to despair. A Whiphid and an Amani. The plant like sentients gave him the shivers, it did not seem normal to evolve from plants, but, he had to admit, the beings made for powerful warriors and much better as friends than enemies!!

As he had hoped, the humans tended to stay distant from the cage, unless they were throwing some food in or watering their captives. So Logan lay there waiting, until at long last the Whiphid got up and stretched its limbs, making a circuit of the cage. As he walked past, Logan hissed but the creature was in a world of its own, his mind clearly deep in its own thoughts. He walked away, only to continue his circuit and come past again. Logan hissed louder, but also flicked a berry at the Whiphids head. That seemed to do the trick. The creature snapped its head up to attention and its nostrils flared as it took in the surrounding scents. His gaze roamed around until it slowly, and Logan was glad to note, quietly, the large sentient locked gazes with him and stared. Logan motioned for him to settle to the ground and without further instruction, the Whiphid suddenly caught on to what was going on. He stopped staring at him and turned his back, pretended to use the thorny bush as a back scratcher and then settled down to the ground, his back to Logan and as closes as he could get.

This allowed for a one way whispered conversation. The Whiphid just sat and listened, not speaking for fear that its collar would pick up on this and alert his captors. After issuing his instructions the Whiphid responded with a quick but clear nod. Logan pushed a lockbreaker out which the clever Slave covered with his large hand and made vanish. Clearly a dexterous creature that one!! Logan left four large knives partially buried in the soil right next to the cage and backed out of the bush.

An hour later found him across the opposite side of the camp and sitting on a thick tree branch that afforded him a clear view of three sentries, the usual path of the patrol, the now brightly burning camp fire and its surrounding occupants, and of course the dead sentry at the base of the tree he sat upon. The waiting game was short. As expected two humans got up from the camp fire and began their rounds. They followed the same path as he had hoped they would. They walked past the first sentry Logan could see and after a quick chat carried on. As soon as they were out of the way Logan shot the sentry with a bolt from a bowcaster he retrieved from the sled. The weapon was silent so very handy for such work! The pattern repeated for the second sentry guard.

Logan then took out the third sentry in his line of sight and turned back to the two on patrol. With a bit of luck… THERE! A trap Logan had set was triggered by their careless hacking and slashing and a blade swished through the air and sliced right through one of the humans arms. Logan hurled a knife at the other human, hitting him right in the soft gut. Both humans screamed and Logan quickly ended them with the bowcaster, one bolt each to the head. That scream had been both a distraction, and a signal. Things were going to get interesting real quick now.

Over by the cage, the Whiphid cracked open his collar with the lockbreaker, then set it against the Amani’s collar. The third lock was that of the cage and the lockbreaker was handed to the most capable of the remaining captives to start unlocking collars. The Whiphid went for the knives Logan had buried and he and the Amani took two each and left the cage at a run, heading straight for the ships.

At the same time, Several of the humans by the fire were reacting to the screams, and the remaining sentries were moving too. Logan waited in his tree until the first of the humans was close and jumped down with his Ryyk blade in hand. The heavy blade cracked the humans skull in two like a meat cleaver hitting a melon and the man went down without a sound. In the darkness of the forest Logan was no more than a darker shadow, but he knew it would not be long before one of these slavers brought some light to the party. He had caught them unaware but they would rally soon. He ran silently towards an incoming sentry and slammed a knife hilt deep into his throat before he had even registered Logans presence. Another sentry went down the same way and then the forest burst into brilliant, blinding light.

Back at the ships, the Amani and the Whiphid had separated. The loping strides of the plant like Amani took it to the nearest of the Aggressors whilst the Whiphid clambered into the Courier. The Aggressor had four occupants. Two were just about rousing themselves from sleep, clearly confused about all the screaming and shouting that was now coming from the camp. The Amani slashed their throats with such viciousness that he took one humans head clean off. The third human, an ugly male with more muscle bulk than most the Amani had ever seen attacked. He was strong, for a human, and grappled for control of the blades. He had gloves on which was a shame as the Amani’s toxic skin would have otherwise burnt the humans pathetic skin, but the grapple was a good one. The Amani tolerated it for a bit, keeping his eye on the last of the humans who was staring at them and slowly edging her way to the exit. Once he had enough of toying with muscles, the Amani bit down hard on the unarmoured arm, waited for the predictable scream which came with a reflexive upward tilt of the humans head exposing the neck. In the blink of an eye the sharp teeth transferred from the arm to the throat, clamped shut and tore free. He spat out the chunk of flesh and windpipe and turned away from muscles, who was now slumped on the deck in a gurgling mess, clutching at the ruin of his throat as it it could stop him dying.

The female had almost made it to the door and on seeing the bloody display of violence she broke into a sprint. With a snap of his arm the Amani sent one, then two blades hurtling towards the female. One bounced off her body armour, but the second bit deep into her unarmoured thigh. To her credit she did not collapse to the ground as he had expected she would, instead she faltered a bit, but gritted her teeth and continued her run. He followed with his loping gain, his long limbs easily allowing him to catch her once outside the confines of the ship. He picked her up and turned her around to face him, her legs kicking the air unaffectedly.

“You put collar on me, how you like?”

He put his one hand around the bare flesh of her neckm managing to encompass it entirely in his large grip. Her screams of pain as his toxic flesh burnt into hers. He could feel her skin begin to bubble into blisters as the pitch of her screams got higher and more desperate. One of the now collarless slaves approached, an open slave collar in hand and offered it to the Amani. He accepted it and released the womans neck, replacing his grip with that of the collar. He snapped it shut with a satisfying click and dropped her to the ground, forgetting about her for now.

His attention turned to the Courier and he loped over, entering just behind a group of three humans. From the carnage that greeted him, he guessed that the humans in this ship had been better prepared for the Whiphids arrival. There appeared to have been four, no, five… or was that six? It was hard to tell at a glance as there appeared to be limbs torn from bodies lying around everywhere. The Whiphid was grappling with two large humans who looked like they may have just about managed to get the upper hand in that fight. Even if the Whiphid managed to turn the tables, he now had three more to contend with.

Two more… The Amani pulled a blaster out of its holster on one of the humans waists and shot him right in the back of the head. Flipping the weapon around he smashed the second human he had followed in around the head, the crunching sound it made making him pretty certain that it was now down to just one… another female, and another one that he recognised as a tormentor from the day he was captured. He smiled a toothy grin at her and charged. She was braver than the other female, she stood her ground and tried to get a weapon into play between them, but it was too late, the Amani backhanded her so hard that she cartwheeled aside and collapsed to the deck. She had just about got to all fours again when he placed a hefty kick to her head, making her collapse back down unconscious.
He glanced over at the Whiphid. He had done well, one human was either dead, or really missing his hand… the other was on the whiphids back in a strangle hold though. Far too engrossed in their own battle, neither noticed the Amani until he pushed the barrel of the blaster right into the humans eye.

“let go, maybe live, hold on, die.”

With its choices limited, the human seemed to decide he would chance living and let go of the Whiphid who slumped to the floor in a daze. The Amani stepped back from the human and grabbed a pair of cuffs from one of the dead humans. He threw them at mr compliant and told him to bind his wrists. Then he got another pair and told him to go bind the female. A third pair he used to bind the females left leg to the males left leg. Having disarmed both he left them to it and went to check on the Whiphid. He was coming back to his senses, fresh oxygen hitting his brain after the clear depravation he had endured in the chocke hold.

“You ok we go fight? Or you stay, I go fight.”

“No chance greenie, I got me some more killing to do”

As they made their way out, one of the other captives came in, that same one that had given the Amani the slave collar earlier. He held an armful of the things now and a determined look on his face. Determined not to vomit the Amani guessed… but determined none the less.

“Two alive there, one no had, maybe alive back there.”

The two fighters left the ship, having grabbed hold of some more blasters and went out into the night, the third ship waiting for their visit.

[Logan Shivers]

Logan revelled in the violence. The release of his anger, the surge of adrenaline, the promise of pain, his or anyone elses. These solitary hunts helped him balance out the constant pull of the dark side, let him release dome of that evil in the most bloodthirsty way, but at the same time not allowing it to rule him by doing it all in the fight against an evil called slavery.

As far as he was concerned anyone involved in that trade was not worthy of life, and if it was taken away, in any way, it was not something bad, it was good, it was of benefit to the Galaxy, so in balance the dark side of the force lost. It was like some sort of pressure release valve.

He stood amongst three dead bodies, two missing limbs, all of them hacked to tatters. He himself was covered in their icor, the smell of it turning hisstomach but feeding his thrill at the same time. He may have been injured, he was not sure, he did not care. He was standing, he still had a blade in his hand and still had the ability to fight so he stalked out of the forest and into the clearing, looking for any remaining slavers.
The Whiphid was the only one who had seen Logan and knew of his involvement in their sudden freedom, so when his bloody apparition appeared in the clearing, blood dripping from his blade, the once slaves scattered, some of them screaming in terror. Two more slavers who had been trying to get some control over the situation turned to face him though, one wielding a nasty looking whip and the other a whole bunch of cuffs and a blaster of some sorts. It was in such poor condition Logan could not work out what type it was, and was amazed it even functioned.

The Whip cracked out and caught Logan across the face, leaving a straight line tear in the softer pliable scales. He stood there unmoved and waited for the next move. The whip lashed out again and Logan snapped his arm out snagging it. The metal studded leather of the whip coiled around his forearm and he grabbed its trailing length. A hard yank brought the slaver stumbling forward and into the unyielding edge of Logans Ryyk, the blade lodging itself hard in the humans shoulder. Logan let go of the blade and the whip, grabbing the human and hurling him towards the other slaver who had just thought to bring his weapon up to fire. The blast hit the dead slaver, his body in turn hitting the blaster wielding one and sending them both sprawling to the ground. Logan strolled over, watching as the surviving slaver tried to remove the dead weight of his former companion from ontop of him. Standing over them Logan looked on for a shor while, taking time in selecting a long knife from his arsenal. He waited until the slaver noticed him standing there and only then did he bring the blade down straight into the slavers eye, hitting him that hard that the long blade popped out of the back of his skull with a wet sounding crunch and pinned him to the ground.

Logan left the blade where it was and stood up straight, turning around him to study the scene. He could see no remaining slavers in the dim light, his rerptilian vision allowing him to see much better than most, but could tell there was a commotion coming from one of the gunships.

By the time he got there however, a quiet had settled on the ship and two figures emerged as he reached the bottom of the entrance ramp. The slightly larger of the two made an immediate move to attack, but the other blocked him with a powerful arm.

“NO! This the one who free us.”

The three sentients stood there, studying each other for a few seconds. Logan took his gaze from the pair of fighters and took in his surroiundings again. Looked like it was all over, no sign of any struggles going on and the slaves, or rather ex slaves, appeared to have calmed and congregated together near the fire, the light and warmth drawing them in.

Logan smiled a toothy grin, making him look even more sinister than he already did, covered in gore as he was.

“Name is Logan, you two look like you took care of things pretty well round here, made my job easier.”

“Where is rest of forces?” The Whiphid was looking around trying to locate other allied soldiers. But Logans confused look made him stop.

“You do this just you?!”

“Yeah, killing slavers don’t take numbers, just brains.”

The larger of the two figures stepped forward and made an odd gesture, one that Logan would come to recognise as one of fielty in later years.
“I am Gareth Damar, honour to you, my strength yours.”

Logan frowned,

“Gareth? Bit… human sounding? And your strength is your own, I don’t fee you to put you into another form of slavery.”

“Is closest, easiest translation to common, my kind not have names like yours… so we pick easiest, closest sounding thing. My strength…”

Logan cut him off,

“is yours we did that one. Seeing as them over there are less likely to freak out if you approach, mind making introductions? Oh, and talking about that… your name friend?”

The Whiphid stood forward and gripped Logans forearm.

“Tersen Serat. Owe you life.”

“Well, then maybe one day you might repay me. Now.. introductions?”

As the three approached the crowd around the fire it was clear they were the largest sentients there, the remaining ones being a mix of smaller species, all of which looked like they were about to flee at the slightet hint of more danger. Logan was not unused to this sort of reaction and slowed down, allowing the more familiar fighters to approach the crown first. It was Tersen that spoke up, his voice loud and clear, even if his common was not the best.

“People here all now free, us not slaves no more, this Logan make this happen, you all say welcome, you all not be scared”

Stepping forward Logan raised a hand in greeting, making sure it was empty of a weapon first. He was quite impressed at the Whiphids little speech, clearly recognising that not all were as comfortable as him in this situation.

“My name is Logan Shivers. I am here on my own but am part of a Mercenary Alliance.. Neither I nor my faction have any interest in slavery, in fact we abhor it. As of this moment you are all free. The ships, weapons, general gear that once belonged to your slavers is now yours. It will be split evenly amongst you and you may choose to sell it, or keep it. The ships will be used first to take you to a civilised planet from which you will be able to make your way home should you wish. Should you not have a place to go, head to a planet called Leafar. We have a lot of work there and something will be found to keep you occupied and earn an honest living.”

That was about it, the crown seemed to have relaxed a little and one or two even shuffled off to start collecting items from the dead slavers. He turned his attention to a male wearing the tatters of a flight suit of sorts.

“I take it you know how to pilot one of these?”

The emaciated slave nodded and pointed at the Courier. Logan thought this may be a humanoid of sorts, but it was hard to tell under the filth, perhaps a Chiss?

“Yes sir, used to fly one of them for a small company.”

“Good, go check her over, and see if you cant find others who are able to fly, see if we got enough to man all three ships. YOU, get a working party together and try scratching off those slaver emblems on the ships hulls, wont make them very welcome on civilised planets.”

Logan did not like to give orders like that to newly released slaves, but he was conscious that they needed to get them out of here. It looked very much like this was a slave exchange waiting to happen which meant that there would likely be further arrivals soon enough, an hour, a day, who knew.

By the time dawn broke the former slaves had piled everything of worth into the three ships, removed any sign of the slavers emblems from the ships, had a hearty breakfast and were standing around looking altogether more civilized than they had a few hours ago. They had found four pilots amongst them and one engineer who had been able to check out the ships. Tersen and Logan had spent time cleaning up the weaponry, the Whiphid clearly familiar with weapons, whilst the large Amani, Gareth, had acted as organiser of the group, something Logan was happy to see happen as it meant they would not rely on him.

He stood by the fire and addressed them all.

“This is your second chance to a good life. Don’t waste it. Coordinates are on the ships computers for suggested destinations if you don’t have one in mind. If any of you try and stich the others up… well, don’t. I wish you all well, now get on those ships and leave before anyone else arrives and gives this little party of ours a bad ending.”

They all started to move off, some approaching Logan to thank him, for the hundredth time or so. Eventually all were aboard apart from Tersen.

“You no come with?”

“No. I have my own way off this rock. Take care of them, stay honourable.”

Tersen was not happy with this news.

“No, I not have family, not have home, all gone by slavers. I stay with you, repay debt.”

A long conversation ensued, by the end of which Tersen had reluctantly agreed to leave with the others, but as it would turn out, the two would meet again, and Tersen would have the opportunity to save Logans life several times.

Several days later, Logan was back in the grassy plains where he had been dropped off, looking somewhat cleaner than he had when he left the slavers camp, a quick dip in the lake on his way had got rid of the gore encrusted onto him. He watched as the Black Dragon slowly settled itself down and moved his vehicle closer. The ramp lowered and he drove right into the hangar bay and powered down. He sat in place for a bit, savouring the familiar vibrations of the Black Dragon coming through to him as the large ship lifted off. The familiarity made him relax more and he begrudgingly moved to exit the vehicle, knowing that as soon as he did, life as the leader of Pitch Black would hit him in the face with a reality check.