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Twin Souls 1999 short story by Louis
Turfrey Eight years before Episode IV
- A New Hope The armour spoke to him. The new neural links fed
him data at a rate that the normal human senses would find impossible to
comprehend. He was still coming to terms with the speed at which the data
flowed. Yesterday it had got to the point where he had taken the helmet off
and severed the link. Today the training was progressing with more speed. A
small nerve blast shot out from the remote hovering overhead. The helmets
sensors had detected the increase in energy and his reflexes had reacted with
more than enough time to dodge the blast. Good. Now he knew how the famed
Jedi warriors must have felt. He had become one with his armour. His hand
reached down to the blaster strapped to his thigh. Neural impulses shot down
billions of redundant circuits and the blaster seemed to shoot up into his
hand, pre-armed and set to kill. The remote dropped out of the air in a
shower of sparks and burnt plasti-steel. He looked down at his hand. He
hadn't even consciously tried to Target on the remote. He should have felt
slightly worried about that, he knew, but something was blocking out the
feeling. He took off the helmet. Li’Tur walked out from behind a shielded
plastiglass enclosure, a big smile on his face. Tarr Ranth turned to him and
placed the helmet on the table. He then spun the blaster on his finger and
re-holstered his weapon. Li’Tur was enthused.
"What do you think sir, are the modifications up to the required
standard?" Li’Tur's no nonsense attitude often spoke more about his
character than his weapons. Tarr Ranth merely nodded to his companion picking
up the helmet, opening a panel using a DNA key, and started adjusting the
interior.
"The modifications you have made to my spare set of armour
are…adequate. However, some of the reactions are too fast. I pulled a muscle
in my shoulder during that last draw. It will take a couple of weeks for the
new nerve grafts to fully integrate. As you already know though, they won't work
at one hundred percent speed until the helmet is re-attached." He pulled
out a small sensor pack from inside the helmet and handed it to Li’Tur.
"I will need four more of these made. They are to be patched into the
chest, back and leg pieces of the armour." Li’Tur gave Ranth an
expectant look. "Any funds that you require can be acquired from my
father. Remember that redundancy is the key. This armour must be nearly fully
self repairing before I can use it in the field." Tarr Ranth closed the
panel on the side of the helmet. Within a few seconds a molecular bond had
formed hiding any signs that there was anything there at all. He handed the
pieces back to Li’Tur who bowed. "I
will not fail you my Lord, it has been an honour to serve your family." The dreams came again. He was standing on an
outcrop of rock, twenty metres above a cold desert floor. The sun start's to
rise. He is talking to somebody. He steps out into thin air, he falls. He
knows he must activate the rocket pack, or at least the repulsors. He can't.
Something stops him; something is blocking his command of his armour. He
hurtles to the ground. As he hits he can feel the bones from his legs shatter
and bury themselves into his torso. The pain blinds him… Tarr Ranth woke with a start. Sweat was pouring
off of his body and he was breathing hard. The pain in his legs was still
there. He was barely able to control it. Stepping carefully off his bunk he
headed for the Dark Star's hanger. "I'm sorry sir but the new nerve grafts are causing a feedback loop down your central nervous system. Although the pain itself is not fatal it will soon become unbearable. I will have to operate to remove them." The Two-One-A unit moved to inject a sedative into
Tarr Ranths arm. He reached across and stopped it.
"No. Reduce the response levels to fifty percent above normal.
Then you will follow the rest of my instructions carefully. Very
carefully." The remote dropped behind Ranth moving very fast
indeed, the nerve blast shot out, nearly catching him a glancing blow to the
right shoulder. He turned, drew the blaster and destroyed it on its fly by.
He was pleased. The remote had been moving fast enough for a battle droid to
miss. He felt no soreness. His speed and resilience would soon be at its
maximum. He took out another remote and set its blasters to kill. Nothing
like a bit of an incentive to get the heart pumping. He grinned to himself as
he activated it and threw it into the air. Li’Tur arrived five remotes later.
"My
Lord Ranth. I've made the modifications, but there is no further way that I
can make any more adjustments to your armour. Your father has frozen further
funds. I have served this family for forty years, I know your father, have
fought with your father, and he does not approve. It is not the Mandalorian
way. However, I have applied the sensors to the connections that you
mentioned. I hope they live up to your expectations." Li’Tur handed the
modified parts to Tarr Ranth. Tarr Ranth stripped out of his fatigues and
fastidiously, almost reverently, replaced his armour. Lastly he snapped the
helmet back into place. The world around him came alive. He could see around
objects. Feel the energy flow. He calmed without knowing it. His heart
slowed, he relaxed. His mind cooled. Within twenty seconds he had purged all
emotion and had become the Warrior again. Good. He would keep this armour for
a special occasion. He took four remotes and set each one to maximum
difficulty. Launching each one individually, he set them to activate after
thirty seconds. Li’Tur moved behind the shielded screen. Tarr Ranth picked up
a Force Blade from a rack of melee weapons and waited in the centre of the
remotes. Two remotes crossed over, two circled, and all
fired at once. Ranth wasn't there. He leapt upwards, fully two metres into
the air, swinging the blade as he did so. The two circling remotes were taken
out simultaneously. Ranth took out the other two upon the down stroke.
Plasti-steel and the shattered remains of energy cells lay upon the floor.
This would do nicely. The sensors were working well. He turned around, and
felt a sharp pain to his right shoulder, just as if somebody had snagged him
with a force pike. He spun around, no one there. Subconsciously he knew that
what he was feeling was impossible. Fear.
The same fear he had felt in his dreams. He heard a voice.
"The last test my Lord. You're father was indeed disappointed
with your need to make such high modifications to your armour. He feels it
must be shown that such things are not needed. I have therefore been
instructed to prove his point." Li’Tur's voice was fed flawlessly through his
speakers, but he could not see him using any of the sensors. He turned to
visual mode and at the same time felt a stabbing pain to his leg. He folded
onto the floor and rolled. He heard faint steps.
"Li’Tur, no matter what my father has commanded, you serve me.
Stop this inane chatter and drop that sensor cloak. Fight honourably." A
shuffling and then another pain, this time to the front right shoulder. This
was getting embarrassing. "My
Lord, I wear no cloak and I use no tricks. I have been commanded by your
father to prove to you that whatever weapons you use, you will always find
someone with better ones. Surrender to your training. Stop using the mechanical
aids and trust only those senses you know." Li’Tur sounded like he was
to Tarr Ranths left side. Ranth swung the force pike outwards, turning his
head but still seeing nothing. Another pain shot up his right side. He
collapsed to the floor in agony. Another jolt, then another. He was barely
conscious now. He willed himself to stand. Something was wrong. No matter
what the suite told him, he could not see his old mentor. Then it struck him.
He stood still. Relaxed. Stretched out with his feelings. Letting every fibre
of his being mould its self into his suite. He turned up the audio sensors.
Flicked off the visual sensors and waited, barely breathing. There. Two heartbeats. Two assailants.
He smiled to himself. Spinning the force pike over his head, he ran towards
the nearest heartbeat and heard a satisfying intake of breath followed by the
sound of something travelling fast through air. He jumped upwards and over,
performing a half twist as he did so. The assailants weapon missed him by a
metre. He landed, activated the visual sensors, threw out the force pike and
connected. He heard a grunt and suddenly he saw his opponent fall in front of
him. Now he knew. He reached up and tore off his helmet. Another warrior,
wearing armour similar to his was standing thirty metres in front of him. The
armour was older, but still highly polished. His father. He looked towards
his feet. Li’Tur lay there, wearing his fathers' 'older' set of armour. He
reached down and removed the helmet. The old man was barely breathing. "He
is too old for this, father. Why did you push him? You are wearing my armour now father. Won in fair
combat. You have no right." Tarr Ranth knelt to his old friend and
administered a stabiliser from the medical kit hidden in his armour. He made
sure that Li’Tur was in a better condition and then turned to the matter at
hand. His father spoke.
"You have gone too far this time. There are two ways you can exit
this room. You can relinquish my point of honour, remove the new armour and
destroy it, or I can defeat you. This armour was once mine. I can defeat you
with it." His father's voice penetrated harshly, chilling him. Tarr
Ranth new this was the time. He knew what had to be done. His father had been
trying to hide his illness from his son for five years, but no one person was
that good at blocking Tarr Ranths investigative ability. He picked up the
helmet, switched off the enhancements and replaced it on his head. They were
now equal. He hefted the force pike, switched on the shock blade and moved towards
his father. His father hefted his own weapon, a Verisi Shock Blade, and
twirled it over his head in a practised move. The speed at which he attacked
his son belied his age. Tarr Ranth was prepared though. He parried, turned
and counter attacked. The blade missed. There was no one there. Tarr Ranth was confused. He had assumed the
Mandalorian armour had deflected his sensors. He hadn't thought that his
father might be able to actually make himself invisible. He turned rapidly
around. No one. Then he felt it, a tickle in his mind. He ducked. Something
flew over his head and the Shock Blade clattered to the ground. He heard some
coughing and for a brief second saw an image of his father, bent forward, on
the other side of the training room. Just as quickly, the image disappeared.
He rolled towards it and threw out the force pike. There was no intention of
killing his father, only beating him, but Tarr Ranth wasn't taking any
chances. He heard the impact of the pike but it appeared to carry on
unhindered and embedded its self in the training room wall. Tarr Ranth was
getting angrier now. His father had no right to do this to him. He switched
his armour to enhanced mode and almost immediately felt the surge of
adrenaline that it produced. Good.
If his father would dishonour himself then so would his son. Tarr Ranth Senior was finding it difficult to
concentrate. His fifty years of Jedi training were of little use now. It
would be only a matter of minutes before his eighty five-year-old body gave
in to the ravages of his disease. He was determined that he would not die on
his deathbed, but as a warrior. He coughed again, and this time his
concentration lapsed further. His son stopped and seemed to examine the air
around him. The old man reached once more into the mind of his son, planting
a secret forgiveness and a message of thanks. Then he dropped all guard,
relinquishing the cloud he had passed over Tarr Ranths mind. By the time his
son had started to react, he had channelled the last remaining force energy that
he could call on, straight into his body. He attacked. Tarr Ranth saw his father appear slowly before
him, only ten metres away. The old man was standing straight, his battle
knife in his hand. As Ranth watched, he saw his father turn into a blur as he
leapt forward, literally flying towards his son. Reacting without thought of
consequences, he drew his blaster and fired. There was an explosion in the
air in front of him, and suddenly his father lay before him. A brief moment
lapsed before Tarr Ranth had realised what had happened. Tearing of the
helmet, he threw it aside as he collapsed to his father's side. He pulled the
helmet off the old man, and saw that he was still breathing. His own eyes
started to sting with tears.
"Father why? Why this way? Why me?" He held the old mans
head on his lap. His father opened his eyes and smiled at his son. "I
had to die in battle. Who else could defeat me but the greatest of warriors?
You are the last of your kind, my son. But there are some things you must know.
I believe the way of the Mandalorian is to fight with honour and skill, not
trickery or mechanical advantage. I knew that your skills were a match for my
own so I set myself an advantage. In the end it was my undoing. I have left a
full explanation in my journals. Li’Tur know where they are kept. Remember
son, no one but Hal Horn and I know of your existence. You will take up the
mantle of Warlord. When the time comes you will help those that need you
most. You will know what to do." The last words were said faintly and faded. Lord
Tarr Ranth, Warlord of Mandalore, died. The transition had been hard and painful. Most of
the new nerve grafts had been removed. The armour had been returned to a near
normal state. The only modifications that remained were a neural link up, and
a voice activation circuit, for the jet pack and suit weapons. Tarr Ranth
stood at a lonely grave near the edge of his estate. He placed his fathers
helmet on top of the gravestone and stood to one side. Silently he bowed his
head and remembered the revelations that he had read only days before. His
father had been what people had once called a Jedi Master. Although Tarr
Ranth himself had read the honours that had been bestowed upon his father, he
couldn't quite believe them. That is, he didn’t believe them until he found
his fathers lightsabre. The weapon of a Jedi. Tarr Ranth had examined it
carefully and had estimated it to be over fifty-years-old. So perfectly
constructed that it still worked after all this time. He had given it to
Li’Tur for safekeeping. Tarr Ranth had no use for it, although he was sure
that one day it would return to him. His own latent force abilities had never
been developed, or at least that was what he had thought up until recently.
Maybe there was something to what his father had taught him about becoming
one with his armour. Li’Tur handed the thermal detonator to Tarr Ranth.
It had been specially modified to provide low yield projected dispersion. He
set the timer and placed it upon the grave. The two men, warrior and mentor,
moved to a safe distance. The ground started to glow around the grave and
slowly the ground, the gravestone and the helmet were disintegrated. All that
was left was a glassy, glowing circle. That night Tarr Ranth sat in a chair and pondered
something that his father had once said. "A
warrior and his armour must never be parted, it is as much a part of him as
his own life force. There can be modifications, repairs and occasionally even
upgrades, but eventually the two become inseparable. Twin souls." How true he thought, how true. Twin Souls 1999 short story by Louis
Turfrey Eight years before Episode IV
- A New Hope Histories – More information about the earlier years of the bounty hunter and later
Jedi Tarr Ranth, and his complicated back history. Returning home, Ranth has much to prove,
to both his father and himself. Cast of Characters Tarr Ranth Lord Tarr Ranth Li’Tur |