WELCOME TO SOMA III ...

Located in the Outer Rim just a stone's throw from Hutt controlled Space.
Here, in a natural Force-well that mostly obscures the system, a lone Padawan has been apprenticed to, and trained in secret by, a masterful Jedi whose visions led him to both planet and boy. The Jedi Master told only A'Sharad Hett of his padawan but never revealed Soma III's existence.
He vanished from the Jedi Order's records soon after congratulating his friend and mentor Qui-Gon on his elevation to the rank of 'Master'. Taking to heart the advice given him by Master Jinn he sought out the path the Force had for him to walk...no matter where it led. It led him to Soma III.
This blog is devoted to the life and times of that Padawan turned Knight, Tenric Starkindler, and his search for purpose during the Purge and beyond...



Friday, March 7, 2008

Tenric's Gambit: V

part V

Dale wandered down to the cantina he and Tenric usually met at. The Shaft, as it was affectionately called, was an interesting place. Carved from a building sized boulder it had several underground rooms used for playing Sabaac as well as other, less friendly, games of chance. Tenric liked the place mostly because he liked the owner. Old Ragün had been a friend of Tenric’s grandmother since before he’d been born. Ragün ran as clean an establishment as the Hutts would allow and was respected by all the miners, human and non-human alike. The Hutts might run the lower levels, but up top he was boss. The fact that his grandson was highly placed in the local Enforcer Brigade also helped keep the peace. There were arguments aplenty, and fistfights were common, but if you pulled a weapon or drew unnecessary blood you’d end up not only banned from the establishment for life, but also might just be summarily arrested and shipped to the Asteroid mines for “community service”. Many said Kessel was a preferable fate.

Dale got a booth and waited for Tenric. Only his friend’s last remark kept him from getting drunk and going below to face Dalba now. Tenric seemed to have a plan of some sorts to help him pay back the money he’d lost to the Hutt playing sabaac. He’d had an Idiot’s Array, a guaranteed win, but a seemingly random ‘shuffle’ had given his hand to Dalba at the very last second. Accusing the Hutt of cheating would have been suicide so he’d had to accept the loss. Now he owed the slimy cheat enough to buy a small freighter, and he couldn’t pay. He’d scraped some of it together with his racing winnings, but time was up and today’s loss sealed his fate, unless Tenric had an Idiot’s Array of his own to play.

The Holo-Vid at the bar was tuned to the news coverage of the race. The reporter, a canine-faced Bothan, was repeating the ruling that had just been handed down by the racing commission.

“In an unprecedented decision the judges have decided to pool the credits for first, second, and third place and split them evenly between the three winners. The official statement cites the heroic actions of the three winners in preventing loss of life as the basis for their decision….”

Dale shook his head as he did a quick calculation. Even if Tenric were to give him his third of the winnings it still wouldn’t be enough. Still, if Tenric felt there was hope he was willing to feel it too. Maybe the money would be enough to buy more time.

“…Furthermore, stay tuned for at first light we have been promised an exclusive interview with the racer who had all of us on the edge of our seats. Tenric of Darkwood Settlement has promised to let us in on what inspired him to such lunacy and greatness.”

Dale stared at the screen. “An interview, huh?” He thought, but his musing was interrupted by the arrival of Orlan. He looked around, spotted Dale, and headed over. Dale knew him mainly through Tenric. He was an engineer with Dure-Lite by day and Tenric’s ship mechanic and developer by night. He couldn’t recall how they had met, but they seemed to get along quite well.

“Hey, how’s it going Dale?” Orlan said as he sat down and ordered a large ‘Hutt-Buster’ from the service droid that approached. “Tenric told me last night to meet you two here around now. He said he might be late.” He finished with a frown. “He is alright isn’t he?”

“Yeah. He’s ok. Got banged around a bit but he’ll be fine.” Dale replied. “ Should be here in a bit. He got the med-techs to play up the injuries so he could avoid the media hounds ‘til morning. He was dropped off at Dure-Med a while ago and will…”

“…Be along any time now,” called Tenric from the doorway. Both men swiveled to watch their friend come across the room to their table. As he did so many patrons lifted a glass in salute or greeting and the buzz in the cantina switched notably to the topic of the race. The Bacta-patch was gone and the “gash” on the left side of his head looked well on it’s way to healing cleanly. He was wearing a loose tunic and pants, probably from the med facility, and though a bit pale looked well enough.

As he joined them in the booth the server-droid whizzed up and said in its metallic voice, “Ragün says this table drinks for free tonight.” With that the droid put two large Corellian Ales and a ‘Hutt-Buster’ on the table and departed. Tenric waved his thanks to the bar and grabbed his glass. After draining it in one long draught he put it down thoughtfully. He gazed at it a moment or two with that look of his, kinda like he was far away and running his body by remote. Dale and Orlan were looking at each other, wondering which of them should speak first, when Tenric shook his head, looked at them and said…

“Well, let me tell you why I’ve thrown this little party…”

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