Executive Officer’s Quarters
BAC Harrower, Location Unknown
The Onderonian frowned after ending the encoded message, leaning back in the chair as he mentally went over the information on the target.
“Deader,” the voice of his deceased mentor automatically corrected, springing up from the memories of his first Contract.
Celevon pulled a cigarette from his pack, lighting it as he thought of the many ways he could cut off the head of the snake, as the Arconan Consul had referred to the woman as. “Could pick up some poison or make some, though I do prefer some physical conflict,” the Obelisk mused aloud, pausing as a thin pair of arms rested on his shoulders.
“Another contract came in, love?” Xathia asked, trailing her fingers down her husband’s cheek. The Archpriestess’ hair was darkened with moisture, the smooth robe telling the man that the Krath had just stepped out of the shower.
“Yes, honey. This one is from the Antei Contract Bureau,” Celevon replied with a smile as he glanced up at her.
“Antei? I thought it was the Arcona Contract Bureau. When did they change it?”
“I don’t know, love. It looks like I must travel to Khar Delba once again. Kill a leader of a splinter group that’s contesting our control of the planet,” the Templar replied, exhaling smoke as he put out the cigarette.
“Then you should get packed, shouldn’t you? After you take care of me, of course...” His wife trailed off with a grin, her voice having dropped to a sultry whisper.
“I thought you would never ask,” the Assassin murmured, pulling her down for a kiss.
Cockpit, Lady Luck
Upper Atmosphere, Khar Delba, Outer Rim Territories
“Thanks for giving me the lift, Jack,” Celevon smiled at the Hapan, all of his gear stored in the duffel at the Onderonian’s side.
“You don’t have to thank me, kiddo. I wouldn’t be giving you all of these rides if you got your hands on your own transport, though. I can give you a list of places that have good ships for decent prices if you’re interested,” J’akked grinned slightly, his words coming out more slowly due to the cigarra clenched between his teeth.
“I’ll be sure to have a look once I’ve finished this mission,” the Assassin replied with a nod, his mind still full of the information he had found from the last several hours of research into Hartwing.
“I took a look at the file for this mission whilst you were in the ‘fresher,” the ex-soldier murmured, pulling up the information on a datascreen. “I think your best bet would be to kill her in her sleep and let the others find her or use one of their weapons to kill her. Cause as much chaos as possible and deadlock any remaining splinter groups so they’re searching their own ranks for traitors.”
“I’ll have to remember to work up anything else on the private server,” Celevon muttered back, silently debating on which method to use. The man had been a long time mentor and J’akked’s advise was always spot on.
The Hapan snorted in amusement. “Don’t even bother if you’re on the Lady. Every file that gets worked up on board shows up for me. I’ll be heading to the rendezvous point to pick you up in thirty hours. Too bad your comlink won’t work on this planet. I’ve never seen interference like this.”
“They would only work if we were within a click of each other,” the Templar shrugged, not at all bothered by it. “Are you ever going to go and get the ship registered under a different name? It was called the Lady Luck when you bought it?”
The slight smirk and tease from the Obelisk was shrugged off. “I’ll get it sorted eventually. You get suited up and be ready. As soon as you are, we’ll do a hover and drop on the coordinates we discussed.”
Celevon gave a mocking salute as he exited the cockpit, the duffel still gripped tightly. Once in the main hold, the Onderonian pulled out his winter gear and put the outfit on, leaving his normal clothing in one of the crates. It was a cheap set of light armour made for warfare in icy environments, camouflaged to where the wearer could remain undetected in the snow. The Assassin pulled on an off-white hooded cloak before grabbing the most expensive and recent addition to his winter gear: a durasteel mask, temporarily painted white, with tinted lenses over the eyes. The original version of the mask itself was a prototype he had built for Karness Muur. It was still being debated over, though the Onderonian had gotten one of the contacts to build him a working version. The technology contained were simple: an infrared scanner and a breathing system that was built to help the wearer breathe underwater and keep out environmental hazards. The breathing system itself was manually activated and could be kept in use continuously for a period of twelve hours before it would shut itself off.
The Onderonian slipped the mask on and mentally went over the specifics of the woman as he walked near the exit. “Ready for the drop-off whenever you are, Jack.”
“Alright. Hang on to something.”
The Assassin closed his gloved hand tightly around a metal bar, closing his eyes whilst his body felt as though it were being pressed further and further back. The Hapan wasn’t holding back in the flight; J’akked was flying full tilt towards the drop-off point.
With a faint metallic screech of protest as gears moved, the ramp began lowering. “Ten seconds from hovering at fifty feet above the surface. See you at the rendezvous, Edraven. Go!”
The Obelisk dove out head first, the wind whipping his cloak about. The biting, bitter cold was felt despite the winter gear Celevon wore as he slowly flipped through the air. The man channeled Force energy into his legs to withstand the jarring shock of the landing and began to build up power for a telekinetic burst of power. At less than five feet, the Onderonian released it directly beneath him, sending snow flying in all directions. It achieved what he had been aiming for: slowing the Assassin’s descent.
“Well, that was fun,” Celevon muttered sarcastically, not bothering to brush the snow off of himself. The blizzard would only cover him in another layer as soon as he wiped the top clean. After a moment, he pulled the flap of his glove back to activate the countdown.
“At least I know this one works,” the Templar grumbled, remembering the old watch that had stalled a full fifteen minutes before beginning the countdown. Celevon activated the infrared scanner and glanced around. Nothing except a small blip in the distance, which was where the camp was located. Once the Assassin was sure that the area was clear of any living beings, he began a check of his inventory: His lightsaber on his belt, the katana sheathed on his back, several of the daggers of his own design and a set of special daggers sheathed in an ‘x’ pattern on his lower back. The blade on the left was coated in Chuba poison, which caused a stroke. The blade on the right was coated in the venom of a Kodashi Viper, which could kill an adult in minutes.
With that done, the Equite began the long jog towards the camp, using the Force to increase his speed in bursts to make it to the location before the people there would wake. If they went on military schedule, which he highly doubted, he had two hours to get there before they started to wake.
The Onderonian had made it to the camp in just under an hour. There was a single man patrolling the camp itself with the partner on watch, stoking the fire. Judging by the fact that they were carrying blasters and vibroswords, they were either non-Force Users or had so little training that they were not yet able to carry lightsabers. Either way, they both needed to die.
The first man by the fire was easy. A quick grasp of the front of the man’s face and a light, precise jab with the dagger coated in Chuba poison to the side of the neck caused a stroke. A burst of inspiration had the Assassin pulling out the dagger coated in the Viper venom and precisely jabbing on another part of the neck. Celevon paused for only a moment to admire his work before moving on to the patrol. It looked as though the man by the fire had been bitten by a snake.
Another set of jabs from both blades had the patrol dead, felled by the very same ‘snake’ that had killed his partner. The Obelisk frowned, pulling his lightsaber from his belt as he entered the Dark Jedi’s large tent. The woman appeared to be asleep, but something was screaming for him to be wary. Not taking any chances, and spying the wound on her arm that looked as though it were from a sharp piece of metal, Celevon sliced into the partially healed wound with the blade coated in Chuba venom.
Hartwing gasped, turning her head slowly towards the Plagueian. “Wh-wh-?”
The Assassin placed a hand over her mouth, silencing the attempt at speech. The woman was suffering from a stroke as it was. The lack of other motion told him that it had paralyzed her. The Equite grabbed a blaster pistol from the holster and placed it in the female’s hand and moved her into an upright position, aiming it at her head. A rough squeeze to the nerve cluster in her wrist had the Leader squeezing the trigger, a blast of cerulean energy disappearing into her right temple.
Celevon felt her death through the Force as the woman’s body went limp. Out of the corner of his eye, the Onderonian saw a glint of silver. The curved hilt of Hartwing’s lightsaber. The Templar grabbed it and activated it, watching as a veridian blade sprang to life. He knew the blizzard still going outside would mask the sound.
Smiling to himself, the Equite deactivated the lightsaber and placed it on his belt. At the very least, the crystal would be a good replacement. The hilt itself would be put back together and placed with the rest of the trophies from his kills.
The Assassin stepped out of the tent, pulling out the blade coated in venom and let the liquid drip into each hole that resembled snake bites on both of the other victims. Once that was done, he sheathed the dagger and clipped his lightsaber back onto his belt before leaving the camp.
Main Hold, Lady Luck
Hyperspace, En Route to BAC Harrower
29 Hours Later
Celevon placed his winter gear back into the duffel, droplets of water still dripping from his hair after the shower. Pulling out his comlink, the Templar dialed in on the Arconan Consul’s frequency.
“Wuntila, this is Edraven. Mission accomplished.”
Contract 002 – Celevon Edraven
This particular contract was entertaining to read. I loved the dynamic between Celevon and his friend-cum-pilot J’akked. There’s certainly a little history there and, even though the passage is relatively small, a lot of chemistry comes out. That’s definitely a good indicator of how well you can convey information, and how adept you are as a story-teller. I can say without doubt that the way you write, the imagery to convey, and the general pacing of the story is a testament to your development as a writer. In that regard, I’d say it was in the EXCELLENT
category. Well done, David.
I will say that the contract started off with a lot of promise – that is, without the soppy crap at the start
Nevertheless, I enjoyed how it panned out, it was just a shame you didn’t capitalise on the opportunity. I felt that you started so well that, when it came to the crunch, you didn’t do yourself justice by having such a small portion of your contract dedicated to the infiltration of the camp and the elimination of the target. There was so much more that you could’ve possibly explored. It is for that reason and that reason alone that I have to award you a grade of SATISFACTORY
That is not to say that I did not enjoy the contract, however. It’s great to see you come along in your writing, Celevon. You’ve made some huge strides since you joined us as a journeyman in Arcona. I can only wish you the best of luck in the future and say that if you keep going the way you are, you’re certainly going to make a name for yourself in this club as a writer.
B-Class = 2 points;
Satisfactory Contract = 2 points;
Total = 4 points.