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"Death to Spies"
"Death to Spies"


an excerpt from my short Star Wars based fan fic novel is now available for all to read. Please if you may, write in comments if you would like to read more or do you want to keep the site stictly guild related and unpolluted by my scribbler's walls of text :)

http://rapidshare.com/files/707925165/Death%20to%20Spies.docx



Death to spies


The sky over the grim city of Kaas was turning crimson, as if someone painted a macabre landscape with the blood of its many victims. The eternal rain, made walking the crowded streets a dangerous endeavor, since many a careless pedestrian has fallen to their death from the catwalks, on which a grey mass of workers were forced to get about. The very thought of aliens polluting the streets, made orthodox Sith nobility shiver with disgust, and therefore, an alternative pathway was designed for the working class, or more accurately, slaves. The omnipresent stench of unwashed bodies, rags unchanged from time immemorial, made Led Kashan’s journey simply unbearable. His well honed senses screamed murder at him, and were it not for the fact, that only a well aimed flamethrower stream could fix his current predicament, he probably could take more drastic steps to make a way for himself among the alien rabble. –Alien- as Led kept telling himself – was less of description of species, and more a state of mind of the lowest part of imperial society. Being an alien meant that, bar the few exceptions, you could never raise above a certain status, nor could you hold rights, or property. Be that as it may, it would be impossible to build an Empire based solely on humans and the constantly thinning ranks of pure blooded Sith. As with all grand designs, some concessions had to be made, such as allowing the Chiss, a blue skinned race of spies and schemers, to join the Empire, albeit on rigorous terms. Recently such an alliance has been also formed with the insectoid race of Killiks, as well as courtship of the Voss people by the chief of Imperial Diplomatic force Darth Serevin.
Led Kashan, did not consider himself an alien, even though his features clearly betrayed his Duros linage. As many other individuals, he believed that he earned his place in the Empire, especially by his recent service in the Imperial Army where he reached the rank of Lieutenant. His service was cut short unfortunately, following an incident, involving an incompetent, although well breed imperial officer, a case of civil disobedience, and some friendly fire. Kashan, although held in high regards by his superiors was put under severe investigation, that would have undoubtedly ended with his death were it not for Darth Marr’s timely intervention. The wise Sith general saw promise in the young Duros, and graciously saved his green skin from the firing squad, even he however was not willing to risk entering a power struggle with the shot officer’s mighty protector, so Led was stripped of his rank, and sent back to Kaas deemed unworthy of service in the military, in effect depriving the struggling Imperial Force of a very competent sniper.
Many soldiers would have given their right hand for such an opportunity to take their hides out of the front lines, where power hungry Sith war leaders, devised new ways of astonishing their Republic counterparts with blatant disregard for the lives of soldiers under their command. Kashan’s life however, felt utterly empty without the sound of blaster fire. Raised as a warrior from the early childhood, forced to fight other orphans for scraps in the streets of Nar Shaddaa Led could not easily contained his lust for blood. A sniper rifle trained on the enemies head, worked wonders for his battered psychic, always postponing the moment where his rage, at the world, and at himself breaches the thin veil shielding his mind, and drowns him.
And there he was, drenched in sweat, and rain, climbing the catwalks, getting from the bar he just left to the bar he is just about to visit, trying hard to disperse the red , drug induced, cloud distorting his vision. The establishment he was just about to visit, was raising proudly above the filthy building of the slave quarter, offering shelter to the downtrodden masses, and false hope of forgetting the unforgettable. Not one to discriminate, Led didn’t care for the décor, consisting of army recruitment posters, police hour announcements, and the big screen showing scenes of annihilation of Republic Troops by the valiant Imperial Boys. If even the part of the pile of bodies shown on the vids, consisted of actual republic casualties the war would have been over by now. Instead, step by step the Empire was losing ground, forced to abandon some of its early conquests, and consolidate its forces, in crucial systems. Imperial propaganda could only spin the facts to a certain extent, and far from the front lines, where Led’ s brothers in arms shed blood every day, performing feats of inhuman capabilities just to slow the republic onslaught, the state of war was painstakingly obvious. Winning the war was no longer an option even the few optimists left were confident to predict, although saying such things out loud was considered treason and punished in all severity.

To be continued …
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