Raiders of the Lost Jungle Planet (Alt Shot)

Made for SWFactions. Original Post: www.eurobricks.com/forum/index.php?/forums/topic/180672-j...

 

Our trio find themselves in a precarious position, deep in the forgotten jungles of Imynusoph, face-to-face with the dastardly ex-Imperial Colonel Corbett!

 

Read on to find out how it happened!

 

Intrepid reporter Kitsa Rigo grumbled and pushed aside another bright green frond. Her shirt was sweat-soaked, she had cuts on her arm from the foliage and she had stepped in something gooey that was seeping through her boot. She should have been in the Core Worlds investigating corporate corruption, not here, in the farthest reaches of the galaxy, looking for a tribe and treasure that may or may not be made up.

 

Impatiently, she stomped alongside her two companions. "Mr. Clod, it's time to deal with the truth: we're walking in circles," she said. "I'm putting this in my story for the Gazette, you know."

 

"Shush shush, would you shush? Be quiet," said Clod, rolling his eyes and trying to look unbothered. "And stop writing. You're driving me up the wall. Just wait. I'm sure I know where we are. Sure, things look bad now, but . . . haven't you ever heard that saying? The night is darkest before the dawn?"

 

"Well--well, actually, Mr. Clod...technically, that isn't quite true," stammered Professor Floon, who, while hurrying forward to speak, tripped in the undergrowth.

 

The Klatoonian explorer pulled the Neimodian academic roughly to his feet. "What was that, Professor?" he growled.

 

"Well, about what you just said...Not here, not on Imynusoph. You see, due to its remoteness, there is a dearth of verifiable information about Imynusoph. While regrettable, that is what makes a CFS research station such a desirable outcome!"

 

"Get to the point...

 

"W-Well, in spite of this scarcity of knowledge, I've been pouring over what existing tomes we do possess, and I've learned that on this planet it is, in fact, the dusks that are the darkest. A result of a peculiar tilt on the planet's axis. A fascinating quirk, I think!"

 

"So far, I don't think any of your quirks are all that fascinating, professor."

 

"Oh my! I say--"

 

"I wish you wouldn't. You're distracting me from my wayfinding. Ms. Rigo, engage the professor in conversation so I can figure out where we are, would you?"

 

She put a hand on her hip and glared. "I thought you knew."

 

"I know...in my bones, alright?" he replied, waving away her accusation. "My instinctive being. My internal map. I just want to make sure my bones, being, and internal map are hitting the mark. Let's take a left up here, into this clearin--Woah there!"

 

"HEY!"

 

"Oh my!"

 

Buffeted by a sudden swinging of broad-leaved plants, the three of them tumbled headfirst into the aforementioned clearing, where they found themselves quickly sinking into some kind of sand. The sand was also sinking, and quickly.

 

"Oh my, oh my!" Warbled Professor Floon.

 

"We need a rope or something! A vine!" Kitsa shouted.

 

Clod looked around for a way out. "You better not put this in your story, Rigo!"

 

"Is that really important right now?" she snarled. "Ugh--It's no good, there's nothing to grab hold of."

 

The Professor tried to stay calm. "Mr. Clod! What do we do?"

 

"Oh, as if this con-artist knows..."

 

Clod shot her a proud look. "Actually, I do know! I know exactly. How about that?"

 

The Professor and Reporter turned and stared at the disappearing form of Harnaby Clod. They waited for instruction.

 

"It's obvious, isn't it? Start shouting for help!"

 

Kitsa threw up the hand that wasn't being sucked down by sand. "Oh, great plan! Very dramatic."

 

"Mr. Clod, I feel the need to caution you...such a ruckus may very well draw dangerous wildlife toward our location, which, while fascinating, may--"

 

Clod scowled at what he could still see of the Professor. "Listen here, Egghead: It's our only hope! Start making a ruckus or you'll never see dangerous wildlife again!"

 

The three started shouting for help. They were nearly submerged in the sinking sand when they heard something coming, from every direction. For a moment, Clod worried they really had brought out some kind of violent beast that would snatch them from the pit with its teeth, and rip them apart for food.

 

But it wasn't a beast. It may have been something worse.

 

It was half-a-dozen people with guns, wearing smashed-up imperial armor, and a speeder bringing up the rear. The pirates surrounded them and brought their weapons to bear. The trio tried to raise their hands in surrender, but, well, the sand.

 

A man dressed in officer regalia and a fur cloak swept towards them, curling his mustache with a finger. He was followed by a mean-looking Sergeant; his right hand man.

 

"My, my. Look what we've found, Slyfoot!" said the officer.

 

"People, sir," said his right hand man.

 

"Yes, people! Indeed! We weren't looking for people. We were, in fact, on the search for beasts. You three are very much not beasts! Except perhaps the one in the wide-brimmed hat, but the resemblance there seems entirely superficial. Do you understand me?" He frowned at the drowning trio. "At the risk of being rude, I must say you have wasted my time. And what are you doing out here, at the end of hyperlanes? The back of beyond! Looking for the golden treasures of Imynusoph, I suspect. Slyfoot is always telling me that finding the famed treasure of Imynusoph will earn me a commendation from the regional governor, and I am always telling Slyfoot that, alas! The treasure is a myth." He crept closer to the edge, looking at them sharply. "But treasure hunters are no myth. No, no, a persistent thorn in my side. You are treasure hunters, aren't you? Best to answer quickly, before you are consumed by the sand and I am left to wonder about your answer forever."

 

Clod spat and roared. "Get us out of here, you Imp snake! "

 

"How eloquent," smiled the officer. "Answer the question!"

 

"Treasure Hunters?" cried an indignant Floon, who was apparently more offended by the accusation than by the lack of help. "Pardon me, sir-- but that is hardly the case!"

 

Kitsa and Clod groaned, but the Officer looked intrigued. He smiled to his men as if sharing an inside joke. "Oh, indeed? And what is the case, my man?"

 

"Dun't--teld--hem--inniedeng!" said Kitsa, flailing as her head started to go under.

 

Floon did not comprehend the warning. With wounded pride, he launched in, "I am a researcher! An academic! I am here to study the local fauna, the fantastic giant birds of Imynusoph! Surely you've heard of them!"

 

Leaning closer, a gleam appeared in the officers eye. "You know of these giant birds, do you?"

 

"I do! Of course I do! It's only natural! I am Professor--blub--Pod Floon, and I politely demand your assistance! My associates and I are moments from a most unpleasant death!"

 

The officer looked pleased. "A fellow of manners and distinction! Out here, an even rarer find than my prey. I've made up my mind. Hop to it, men! Get them out of the sand!"

 

Slyfoot raised an eyebrow. "Are you sure, Colonel? Perhaps we should just leave them. It will save us the trouble..."

 

"No, Slyfoot! You've only ever believed in the treasure, never the giant birds! Slyfoot, ever the skeptic, except when it pertains to gold! Well, it appears I have finally found someone who shares my interest!"

 

Slyfoot's expression was unreadable. "Understood, sir. May I have the dog-faced one for interrogation?"

 

"Hey!" Clod growled. He knew when someone was talking about him.

 

The Colonel waved a hand. "Oh yes, naturally. Do as you must with that one. Troopers! Bring these three to our camp. I would have further conversation with our guests."

 

 

To be continued!

Done