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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 Mark Newbold 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 |