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Into the Underworld 2000 short story by Louis Turfrey Eleven years
after Episode IV – A New Hope Part One The rain fell relentlessly, as Critchek Skumul moved through the dark streets of Cardence. The city was a smelly, dark, hole of a place. Built layer upon layer, over the years it had evolved its own subculture. A subspecies of humanity so obnoxious that they fought anybody or anything that they thought might be a threat. Consequently, most city dwellers stayed above the top fifty levels, also known as the Second or Upper City. What those city dwellers on the upper levels didn't know was that there was far more to be found down here than mere humanoids. Critchek knew the people who frequented these streets were scared of something. Scared enough to ask for help from above. He'd seen enough horrors in his life to make the marauding denizens of these streets seem like children playing in the sand. Critchek wasn't worried about anything human though. He'd been following up a lead on a man known as Neal Drago, a suspected Dark Force user. The trail had led him to Cardence. He'd found the man dead. His arm raised over his eyes, his body burnt to a crisp. Whatever the man had come across had far outstretched his abilities to deal with it. When he'd followed the clues he'd found nothing. Not even his own inbuilt psychic abilities had helped the process. Nothing was found, and Critchek was about to go home when the government of Cardence had approached him. We have a problem, they had said, people are dying and nobody knows why. Critchek had leapt at the chance to get involved, he loved ad-hoc assignments, and the trail of murders had led to this area of Cardence. The Under City had nearly a half a million registered voters, all hoping for a better life, all pinning their hopes on the next best government. If they got scared then the fear would travel like a tidal wave and that was not something the local law enforcement wanted either. As such it was an excellent public relations activity for the New Republic. Critchek had often wondered what it was about him that made people uncomfortable. No one wanted to be around him for long. Perhaps it was the smell of death that seemed to permeate his pores. Perhaps it was that people who stayed around him had a habit of dying in the most horrific ways. Whatever it was, it gave Critchek the perfect excuse to work alone. It also meant that he often had to rely upon his own heightened senses and resourcefulness. As such he'd developed the knack for knowing when he was being watched. Like now. He stopped and listened. There it was again. The snuffling sound, barely audible above the sound of the rain hitting the broken paving. He activated his tracking unit and rotated his head, then his body, slowly. The exoskeleton that he was wearing beneath his clothes moved against his skin, adjusting to his position and providing a necessary backup to his own physical skills. He caught the image of something humanoid skipping back into the alley. This could be his opportunity. He turned and sprinted after the creature, his own footfalls sounding loud in the enclosed space of the alley. His monocular showed up the creature, cowering in the corner, as if daylight had fallen on fluorescent paint. His eyes struggled to see anything. He approached slowly, noticing the alley was a dead end. "You're a Deffel aren't you?" The creature snuffled again, a piteous sound. Up close he could see the creatures fur, matted and showing the occasional patch of white. Deffels did not naturally have white fur. Critchek knelt down; the creature crawled further into its corner. Its jaw looked badly mangled, its claws were torn and damaged. Critchek took out his communicator. "Skumul to central control. I've got a medical pickup." There was a pause and then a woman's voice answered. "Roger that Sir, but aren't you in the Under City?" Skumul paused and took a breath. It hadn't ceased to amaze him how much bigotry was shown by the Second City dwellers towards those on the lower levels. No wonder the Empire had taken so long to be ousted on this planet. "Yes, just make sure I have a med wagon at these co-ordinates within the next couple of minutes." He activated the GPS transponder and sent his location. The operator confirmed it and closed the call. "OK. I've got a wagon coming for you." He took one of his gloves off, touching the creature gently, absorbing some of its pain into himself. The Deffel cringed but did not move away. Eventually he heard its breathing steady and realised it had fallen asleep. He heard the whine of repulsors, and the Med Wagon arrived. Two droids exited the wagon and loaded the Deffel onboard. Critchek stayed long enough to give them authorisation and then moved off on foot. It was nearby, whatever it was, and it knew he was here. He felt anger and pain meshed together. Critchek stopped in what must have once been a local square or meeting place. He waited. There was a sighing, like a strong breeze, and Critchek felt, rather than saw, a disturbance in the air. Then the molecules seemed to coalesce, forming the blurry outline of a man. He appeared to be speaking but Critchek couldn't hear any sound. The wind picked up around him, becoming strong and blustery. "Who are you?" Critcheks words caused the apparition to stop trying to speak. Instead, the face seemed to become more dense, showing the defined outlines of what must have once been a mans face. As the wind started to subside, something tickled the back of Critcheks mind and a memory clicked into place. "Drago. I've been looking for you for a while." The apparition appeared to anger momentarily, then calmed. "I know who you were, not who you are now. Why are you coming to me?" He walked around the apparition. Its image started to solidify and take upon a more defined physical structure. "It must be costing you a lot of energy to create that image." The apparition nodded, but continued to form a denser pattern. The head, neck and chest now seemed solid. The apparition turned towards him. "You must stop it." The voice was feint and weak, but clearly human. "It's not of this universe, its power is unique." The apparition faded momentarily, a look of pain passing across its face. "I have only minutes left in this world. You must search it out. I made a grave mistake in releasing it. It is imbued with energy not entirely of the Force. It lives only to destroy." The apparition, once known as Drago, started to fade, but the voice grew stronger. "To destroy it you must become its equal, face its anger and survive its strength." The apparition was quickly dissipating. "It is a demonic, a destroyer, the Apocalypse Gate is open..." He was gone. There was a great rushing of wind and Critchek felt something pass through him, then whatever it was had gone. He unclenched his fists and noticed the ache in his hands for the first time. He opened his communicator. "This is Skumul. I need a pick up." The operators voice confirmed the request and within minutes he was heading towards the upper levels, and his lodgings. Spacer ran up to him as he walked into the rooms that he had been given by the Cardence Government. He patted the dog for a few seconds and then moved over to the library computer. Swiftly tapping into its matrix, he set a search for any demonic or supernatural legends with regard to the sector and specifically Cardence. The computer informed him that the search would take six hours. Enough time for Skumul to take a shower and a quick nap. He set the alarm to sound when the search was complete and left it computing. The shower felt good and within minutes of completing it he had fallen asleep. A loud buzzing woke him. Sixty pages of legends stretched out upon the holographic display. Half an hour later it had been narrowed down to five. Three of them pointed towards the same creature. Skumul did a composite search to remove any inconsistencies and printed off the remainder. "It is written, and will come to pass, that the dark one will create the Death Bringer. A creature so filled with hate and guile that it will attempt to escape the control of the Dark Lord and wreck its own chaos upon our time. It will fail, and be forced to wonder the wilderness until the Day of Reckoning. Upon this day it will be released upon the innocents and devils of the underworld, taking unto its self the form of man. Thereby opening the Apocalypse Gate and allowing the Chaos Lord to create his army of undead warriors." Skumul skipped from the section containing the prophecies to the section based upon factual data. SOURCE MATERIAL: Holocron of the Jedi - Tabors Tales SUBJECT: Corlan P’ur, Sith Lord and Warrior. SUB HEADING: Crimes Against the Republic. CONTEXT: 3rd Party, Present - Dated 1000 Years
Pre-Empire CONTENT: The being known as Corlan
P’ur was of indeterminate race. He is listed as existing prior to the fall of
the sith, after the Great Battle. His history is filled with unconfirmed
rumour and conjecture. However, he is known to be very adept at gene
manipulation and Dark Side manipulation. It is recorded that he created a
creature, by combining Dark Side energy and gene science that was a pure
vessel of Dark Side power. His apparent aim would have been to have created
an army of such beings with which he could have defeated the Jedi. No
description of the creature exists, except that it was humanoid in
appearance. The creature possessed of Dark Side energy and the intelligence
of a humanoid was not satisfied with its position as a servant of the Sith
Lord and attempted revolt. However, it did not succeed, and was trapped and
imprisoned by Corlan P’ur. Unable to make the creature do his bidding, and
unable to destroy it, Corlan P’ur sent it into permanent exile, trapped
within a specialised Mandalorian energy cage. It was said to have been buried
far underground, with a self-generating energy source, upon a planet in the
outer reaches of the explored galaxy. Here it is supposed to lie, unable to
die due to its ability to channel force energy and yet unable to escape. The
only indicator to its current location is that it is somewhere within the
Setnin Sector, a newly colonised area of space. Critchek sighed, and raised himself up from the lounger where he was seated. He poured himself a Chav and activated the accommodations communications terminal. A young lady's face appeared on screen. "Yes Sir, how may I help you?" Critchek keyed in his ident code and pressed the sender. The young lady took note of the ID and nodded her ascent. "Your identification is confirmed Special Investigator Skumul, what number do you require?" Skumul requested the local New Republic Ambassador and awaited the reply. It didn't take long. The screen shifted to a waiting message and a few seconds later a grey haired man wearing a bed robe, came into view of the lens. "This had better be good news Skumul, I don't like being called to the phone in the middle of the night." Skumul frowned, not liking the other mans tone, and replied tersely. "I'm afraid it's very bad news Ambassador. My target has turned out to be a far greater threat to the local population that we thought. I'm going to need some specialist help." The Ambassador sighed and relaxed back into his chair. Instantly awake and all business again. "Okay Skumul, give me the list." Part Two Skumul waited at the hanger entrance to Bay 37 and watched as the New Republic YT-1500 transport settled on its landing skids. A couple of minutes later the lower hatch opened and three men walked down the ramp, chatting casually. Skumul walked up to them and the man on the left looked in his direction, immediately coming to attention. The others quickly followed his example. "Special Agents Manton, Desaric and Sabre reporting for duty Sir." The three men saluted, standing even straighter. Skumul smiled. "At ease gentlemen, and please remain so in my presence." The men did as they were asked. Skumul handed each of them a weapons pass and geo-map. "These will allow you to bring as much hardware as you require into the city. The map shows the warehouse where you can stash the specialist gear. I'll meet you there within the hour. In the meantime get the transport over there. I've arranged clearance and there is a man waiting to open the main doors. Try to be as quiet about this as possible. The fewer people who know about this location, the better." All three men nodded their ascent and within minutes the transport had again taken to the air. Skumul sighed with relief. At least they would be able to track it now. The transport settled on its repulsors in front of the warehouse. The warehouse itself was on the tenth level of the city, and was ten times the size of the transport. A man walked through the small front door of the warehouse and signalled for the transport to approach the main gates. It did so, and within a minute was inside the miniature hanger area. The three special agents disembarked and started to unload their equipment. The man walked up to Agent Manton, who was supervising the operation. "Good day to you. My name is Ornul Card, I own this warehouse." He handed Manton a remote locking device and several sets of pass keys. "I understand that this area may become a hotbed of violent activity soon, so if you don't mind, I'll leave you to it." He smiled a sickly smile and left through the front door before Manton could thank him. The special agent puzzled over the mans last words, but was soon too busy unloading equipment to give it a second thought. Critchek Skumul arrived at the warehouse fifteen minutes later, Spacer on his heals. Ever since he had rescued the dog, Spacer had followed him and claimed him as his master. Skumul had often tried to read the dog, but could only ever pick up its surface thoughts, and then only when Spacer wanted him to. The dog was more of a friend than a pet, and that was how Skumul preferred it. What’s more, the dog could understand him, and he could understand the dog. He'd already saved Skumuls life once, and now seemed to want to permanently protect him. The warehouse was quiet, Skumul could hear his own footsteps clearly as he walked towards the transport. Spacer growled, a low guttural sound that made the hairs on Skumuls neck rise. He stopped in his tracks and looked at the dog. "What’s up boy?" He reached down and placed a hand around Spacers neck. Immediately he was deluged with a sense of foreboding and fear. He tensed and whispered down to Spacer. "Thank you my friend." He motioned Spacer off to one side and drew his blaster. The dog took up a position behind one of the unpacked crates. Skumul heard the sound of scraping metal and set the blaster to stun. The agent Manton walked around from where he must have been waiting on the extended ramp. A large hydrospanner in one hand, a blaster in the other. "What’s up boss, 'fraid to get your hands dirty?" The man walked strangely, as if he couldn't quite remember how to do it properly. "Drop the blaster and the spanner Manton. Shove them both over here." Manton grinned. "Oh come on boss, don't think I want to hurt you do you?" He dropped the blaster, then the hydrospanner, and kicked them over. Critchek looked down and noted that the hydrospanner seemed to be covered in a red sticky substance. In the time it took him to register this Manton had covered the ten metres between himself and Critchek and launched himself forwards, becoming a blur of speed. Vice like fingers attached themselves to Critcheks neck and started to squeeze against the exoskeleton collar surrounding his neck. Critchek gasped for breath as two of the fingers caught his windpipe, unable to even whisper. He tried to force his arms up between his assailants and pushed hard, meeting extreme resistance. The exoskeleton cut in, enhancing his strength. He heard the sound of bones snapping, and saw Manton grin even wider as his hands gripped tighter and his arms bent outwards. Critcheks stomach turned as he felt the flesh in Mantons arms start to part. He was getting light headed from the lack of oxygen and only the collar of the exoskeletons head support was stopping his neck from being snapped. Even so, he could feel it start to compress against his neck and knew he only had moments left. Dropping both arms quickly, Critchek drew his blaster and started to release close range stun bolts into Mantons ribcage. Still the man was holding on. Critchek moved the weapon up to Mantons head, feeling the strength run from his legs as he did so. Now only the exoskeleton was holding him upright. He flicked the reserve on the power pack and pushed three stun bolts directly into Mantons brain. Energy crackled around Mantons head, feeding back into Critchek. Manton took a violent step backwards and his grip dropped away. A look of intense pain and confusion covered his face and then he collapsed on to his knees, rolling onto his side. Critchek collapsed beside him, barely able to stay conscious. He reached for his wrist communicator and pressed the emergency transponder button three times. With any luck, a medical team would get to them before anybody else died. He closed his eyes and exhaustion took over. “What happened back there?” The medic, unusually humanoid, questioned. Critchek looked him up and down gauging the man. “Something back there caused those men to attack one another, I don’t know what.” He shifted uncomfortably as the Medivac Ambulance did a tight turn. The medic tightened Critcheks safety straps, steadied himself, and looked like he was about to say something to the driver. As his head turned towards the cockpit area there was a look of shock on his face. “Holy..” The mans words were cut off by the shock of an intense impact, and the sound of grinding metal. The Ambulance dropped violently to one side and Critchek could feel the harsh vibration as something slid along the side of the small craft. Then just as quickly, it was gone and the craft started to right its self. The medic pulled himself upright from the position where he had fallen. Checking Critchek for further damage he shook his head. “That’s the closest I ever want to come to a collision with a starship. He was coming straight at us!” He nodded; satisfied that Critchek had come to no further damage. “Good job the droids that drive these gurneys are designed for maximum evasive techniques.” He smiled at Critchek. “You’re one lucky son of a bitch.” Critchek looked down the report from the local law enforcement and nodded ruefully. “And there’s no sign of the transport?” The sergeant looked back at him uncomfortably. “No sir. After impacting with your ambulance, it exited the atmosphere and went into hyperspace. Last known direction of travel - wild space." Critchek nodded, signing the report and handing it back. The sergeant, who had dealt with Critchek before, looked at his un-gloved hands curiously. Critchek picked up on the mans stare. “No longer any need.” He said, and passed the stylus back to the officer. He saluted and left the office. Critchek walked towards the observation window. Whatever that creature had been, it had possessed one man long enough for him to kill his colleague and attack Critchek. Critchek suspected that the second body, never found, was actually acting as a surrogate storage vessel for the creature’s soul, if it had one. Special Agent Manton was currently undergoing massive neurological and mental conditioning, with the help of some Jedi healers. The chances of him regaining his sanity were slim. Critchek looked at his hands and realised how pale they were in the reflected light from the setting sun. He sighed. Whatever that energy had been, the feedback from the creature or the discharge from his blaster, he didn’t know. All he knew was that he no longer had any special abilities. They had disappeared with the energy blast. He flicked on the communications unit on his desk. “Critchek here. Can you arrange for my scout craft to be refuelled and stocked with enough consumables for a years travel, and get me as much information on the area known as wild space as you can.” The secretary, on loan from the ambassador’s office, acknowledged his request and confirmed details. He closed the connection. Somehow he would find that creature. Even if he didn’t know how… Into the Underworld 2000 short story by Louis Turfrey Eleven years
after Episode IV – A New Hope Histories – The
second of Louis Turfrey’s Critchek Skumul stories, set a
year after the first story From the Very Core. This shows Skumul in his element – in
pursuit of a dark mysterious alien foe with the help of his special agent
teams. Cast of
Characters Critchek
Skumul Neal Drago Special
Agent Manton Special
Agent Desaric Special
Agent Sabre Ornul Card Tabor Corlan P’ur |