DE - Dauf Vignette Part 1 - Freedom

The air was hot as Dauf stepped off the ramp of the shuttle and onto the duracrete tarmac of the ground-side star port. Squinting up into the bright, summer sky of Commenor, the young man ran a hand through long, reddish-brown hair. As unpleasant as the heat normally was to him, it was nice to be out of the chilled, recycled air of the passenger ship he'd flown over on. It also helped that the exhaust-filled air here reminded him a bit of his home on Empress Teta.

"We made it," his companion said. "Somehow." The man- Stafune- like Dauf, was a young man from the core, the heart of the newly reborn Empire and- like Dauf- he was running.

"Not quite," Dauf said, "Commenor is Imperial turf still. We're one more shuttle run away from freedom." He didn't add that they were also out of money, and that freedom wasn't quite just beyond Commenor. Freedom from the Inquisition maybe, but not from tyranny.

"We'll have to find a ship," Stafune says, adjusting the straps of the large, frame backpack he wears. "One that'll let us work our passage off."

Dauf says nothing, he doesn't need to, he can tell that Stafune is lying. Well, not quite lying, but he doesn't believe exactly what he says either. How Dauf knew this, he couldn't explain exactly. It was a feeling, a strange feeling he'd had since he was a kid. He'd been able to see things and know things that he shouldn't have. His friends found it spooky, his mother . . . She'd told him to never speak about it again.

"That or I do some luck readings," Dauf suggested.

"No." Stafune sent him a hard look, "It's too risky."

Dauf had begun his 'luck readings' as a teenager on Empress Teta, telling people facts, secrets, details of their past or future. Sometimes it was true, other times, it was too cloudy so he would make something up. But he'd been paid for his work. Until the Empire returned. After that, people like him had been hunted, they were in high demand.

"Come on," Stafune says, checking his pack, "We'll head to a spacer bar and see what sort of passage we can get. I'm not relaxing till we find-" he stops and glances to the crowd milling around them, "Them."

Them was the Rebellion of course. The last sliver of freedom in the galaxy.

The two young men set off on foot, moving with the crowd out of the starport and into the cityscape proper, at least the  sprawl that surrounds the port. Some old spacers call this area 'the fade down', that is, the area between the star port of any given planet and the actual local culture. It was a gradient change of a sort of 'interplanetary standard' and the planetary culture itself. It was full of bars, brothels, gear shops, rental places, shopping centers, anything a passing spacer would need.

Stafune had more experience with this stuff that Dauf did, he was a young spacer himself, a hand on a cargo freighter that operated typically between Foerost and Empress Teta. That was before the ship he worked on had been forcibly requisitioned by the returning Empire of course. Stafune and the rest of the crew had been pressed into service shuttling spare parts for the Navy until he had abandoned ship and deserted at Empress Teta before meeting Dauf.

That day, Dauf had just known where to be to find him. He used to chalk such feelings up to luck, before he met Renna and she had told him about the Force.

Dauf looked back over his shoulder before the two of them entered a darkened side alley. At the far end of the busy avenue, a pair of stormtroopers stood, armor gleaming in the sun. Dauf made brief eye contact with the expressionless faceplate before quickly looking away and following Stafune into the alley.

"Even a smuggler would be fine by me," Stafune said to no one in particular.

"I don't think many smugglers operate out of Commenor, at least not anymore."

"No." Stafune agreed. "Not after the Empire returned." he stopped, turning on Dauf suddenly, "Are you feeling anything? Are you getting any of those visions?" he asks the question in a whisper.

"N-no," Dauf stammered. "I mean, nothing bad."

"Hm. I just don't like being here," Stafune mutters, scratching at the half-grown beard stubble across his chin. "Place gives me the creeps. Come on."

He didn't say it, but Dauf knew he was thinking it. Stafune were wishing Renna were still with them.

Their little trio had formed on Empress Teta originally and Renna had been much of the impetus behind it. She had known that the Rebellion could be found out in Hutt Space, she had told Dauf about the Jedi.

"Guardians of peace and justice," she had said, her eyes wide with excitement, "They kept this big dysfunctional galaxy whole and they made sure that no one was forgotten, that no injustices went uncorrected. They used the Force to do this. You are strong in it, and so am I." Dauf hadn't intended to set off down a path of spiritual enlightenment, he'd just been looking for a friend who understood what he was going through. It had helped that Renna was cute, and he had felt something for her. Something more than mere friendship.

She was just a kid like him, but she'd known so much, teaching Dauf how to reach out and feel things, how to center himself, how to send small bits of duracrete skidding across the floor of an empty warehouse using only his mind. She'd been taught what she knew by someone else who had long ago left to find the only Jedi Master left, Luke Skywalker.

Now, Dauf was following along, skipping just ahead of the Inquisition. The Dark Side hunters who had taken Renna on Fedalle. Thinking about the sight of those black armored troopers grabbing her as a pair of dark-robed men with lightsabers watched and smiled, it made Dauf's skin crawl.

"Here," Stafune stopped and tapped a door set into the wall of the alley way. "This looks like a good place."

Dauf opened his mouth to answer when the words die in his throat, a coldness washes across his body and the hairs on his arm stand up. He turned around and looked back down the alley way stretching behind him.

The stormtroopers he'd seen before were there, blocking the way out.

"Stafune," Dauf said, hand going to his blaster.

"There's no need for violence," a fresh voice. Clipped, precise. Imperial.

Both men were now facing the troopers, hands on their pistols, ready to draw. Better to die than to see what sort of reprisals the Empire had in store for them.

The two troopers moved aside and a shadowy figure steps forward, black cape swirling behind him, a golden necklace flashing from within. The man, an inquisitor, stopped and smiled at both of them, a jagged scar that ran from the corner of his mouth up to almost his temple becomes visible. "Violence will, I promise, only beget more violence."

"Well what the hell do you want?" Stafune demanded, sweat beading on his forehead.

Behind the inquisitor, two black armored stormtroopers appear, each of them holding a strange, sleek, alien dog by a heavy leather leash. Sith Hounds. Both are yipping and pulling on their restraints, eyes firmly fixed on Dauf.

"All I want," the Inquisitor said, "Is him. Dauf Vanarian."

"Dauf?" Stafune asked, eyes flicking to his companion. "No way. Aren’t you bastards satisfied with Renna?"

"We only want Dauf, and we only have need for Dauf, not the two of you," the Inquisitor continued, ignoring the barbed question. "I can assure you, we can and will take him by force if we have to, but I'd rather not have to deal with something so dramatic as an alley way shootout. Blood is tough to clean out of robes, you understand." he grinned wider, that scar stretching taut.

"Dauf-"

"Stafune, go," Dauf said, pushing away his fear. "I'm the reason they found us, they'll just keep tracking me until they catch me." He would do this to protect his friend. It's what a Jedi would do, it's what Renna had done.

Stafune looked back down the alley way, further into darkness, into safety, then back toward the Imperials. "I'll find the Rebels," he says, "I'll get them to come back for you, for Renna."

Dauf had gotten good at spotting lies, even without the Force. "Go." He doesn't look as Stafune makes a run for safety. Nervous fear chews away at his gut, but fear wouldn't dictate his actions, he would let his concern for his friend do that.

"Intelligent decision, boy," the Inquisitor said, sending his troopers forward with a wave of a hand. "You've just made the first steps toward a new future for yourself in the service of the Empire."

Dauf scowled, "I'd rather die!"

"Oh, but you've already given up that choice," the Inquisitor said, as the troopers tug Dauf's blaster out of its holster and away from him. "Your life is forfeit." he reached Dauf and leaned in close as the black storm troopers slap binder restraints onto the youth's wrists. "For now you belong to me."