Legends and Hauntings in Deep Space by Atlan Wills

One of my most beloved gaming toons was Atlan Wills, a female Trandoshan Bounty Hunter that I played for 7 years in Star Wars Galaxies.   She died because Sony killed Star Wars Galaxies.  I am still sad about it.

However, during those 7 years, I wrote some fan fiction based on the game and Atlan’s adventures. In tribute to Atlan, my beloved guild, WRA, and SWG…I present..


Star Wars Galaxies







Legends and Hauntings in Deep Space by Atlan Wills

Released six Standard Galactic Years ago, this popular collection of well researched folktales from across the galaxy is now in its 4th printing.  Here are seven tales, mostly from the Outer Rim sectors that will make your next journey through the dark of space leave you feeling perhaps just a bit colder and more wary.   Titles include ‘The Legend of Smuggler’s Ghost’ , ‘Danto’s Shadow Fleet’ , and ‘The Screaming Nebula’.

The Legend of Smuggler’s Ghost by Atlan Wills

Atlan Wills’ second book is a brilliant collection of the author’s research notes, journal entries, and interviews with those who have experienced the terror of the ghosts of Cap’n Zac, Ghost, and Lezo, the infamous crew of the smuggling yacht, ‘Smuggler’s Ghost’.

Ancient Spirits of Olde by Atlan Wills

Ancient Spirits of Olde will be a new book from Atlan Wills that follows the history of the Shamanic Wookie tribe Wwoottn.  This title is set for a Holiday release of THIS year!


The Galactic Hunter’s Journal Summer Edition

“Coming Galactic Events”

Gray Cat Cruises has announced that they will host two (and two only) Luxury Dinner Tours on their flagship,the Sorosuub Luxury Yacht Smuggler’s Ghost, with host, Atlan Wills.  The Smuggler’s Ghost is an exact replica of the infamous original ship that is the subject of Wills’ second book, The Legend of Smuggler’s Ghost.  The tours will depart from the Coronet Starport, (transportation to and from the starport can be arranged), and include cocktails, hors d’ourves, dinner, and dessert.  The itinerary follows the ill fated original ship and crew’s journey and includes Yavin’s Nova 3 space station, the last confirmed sighting of Cap’n Zac and his ship, and continues to the Aurora Nebula in the Kashyyyk system.  Atlan Wills will host the cruises with haunting tales of not only Smuggler’s Ghost, but the Screaming Nebula as well.


The Galactic Post Moon Festival Edition

“Coming Galactic Events”

…of note, is what’s missing from the list of upcoming Moon Festival fun and frivolity across the galaxy and that is the Haunted Dinner Cruises from Gray Cat Cruises.   Cancelled just last week, Gray Cat gave no details.



The Great ReSynchronization year-notation system was established in 35 BBY by the Republic Measures & Standards Bureau to recalibrate the disparate dating systems used by the Galactic Republic. It was since used as a zero year for the dating system; thus, the Battle of Geonosis takes place in the year 13, the Great Jedi Purge in the year 16, Battle of Yavin in the year 35, and the Battle of Endor in the year 39…..

Year 19, Endor, Smuggler’s Outpost

The Trandoshan and Rodian were given a wide berth as they loaded the canisters into the sleek YT 2400.  The platform of Smuggler’s Outpost, Endor, was large enough to accommodate three midsize cargo ships, and on this particular balmy afternoon, it held the YT 2400, a scarred Neimoidian shuttle, and a Skipray Blastboat that housed the largest Dar-2 ion cannon that Atlan Wills had ever seen.

“They can have a 4 man crew and yet can be piloted by a single crew member,” the Rodian was saying quickly as he helped the Trandoshan load the last of the canisters onto their ship, The Galactic Jester, “in addition to that lovely ion cannon that you so admire, my dear Atlan, it also has a concussion missile launcher and proton torpedo tube flanking its starboard and port, respectively.”

The Trandoshan grunted at the Rodian’s formal accent, “And what’s that on the dorsal fin?”

Lezo squinted for a moment, “I do believe that it is a fire-linked pair of Senko Systems Tru-Lok 5000×2 laser cannons,” the Rodian grinned at his partner and friend as he noticed the gleam in her eye, “that was the last crate.  Any other business before I begin the preflight?”

Atlan stood and admired the Skipray for a moment longer, her 1.8 meter frame completely blocking Lezo’s view, “Go ahead with the preflight,” she said in Dosh, “we’re done here.”  She paused a moment longer, “are you sure that those are Tru-Lok’s?”

Lezo nodded casually as he began to ascend the ship’s belly ramp, “Oh yes, no doubt.  In fact, I —“

But the Rodian’s forthcoming explanation was interrupted by a loud wailing, an even louder yelling, and then the very loud and unmistakable sound of a hand striking flesh.

Silence followed by a small, tiny whimper.

Both Atlan and Lezo, as did everyone within earshot of the shuttleport, turned towards the disturbance, which appeared to be taking place near the loading doors of the battered Neimoidian shuttle.  There were three humanoid children, all quite young it seemed, standing near the shuttle doors with their hands and legs bound and wearing slaver’s collars.  The tallest, and oldest, Atlan assumed, bore the red marks of a recent slap.  Just below her right nostril was a small trickle of blood.  The child was female.  Her smell was of fear…and something else, too.  Atlan drank in the pungent forest air along with the child’s scent.  Defiance.  Yes.  The girl had courage and spirit.

Atlan looked over to see Lezo staring at her with some concern, “Human slaves?”  He asked in Rodese.

“Two humans, “Atlan replied, “both female.  The other is male…Zabrak scent.  Young.  Healthy, though, all of them.”

“Who has them?”  Lezo asked, walking back down the ramp so that he could get a better look.

Atlan took another deep breath. “Human. Just one.”

“Damn slaver,” Lezo shook his head, then he looked at Atlan, “what do you mean ‘just one’?”

The Trandoshan’s eyes studied the Neimoidian shuttle’s immediate surroundings with the eye of a skilled hunter.  Most everyone was back to their own business now that the children had quieted down.  She turned to Lezo.

“Just one.  Go get the ship ready, I’ll be right back,” and with that, she unsnapped the harness on her holster and released the bio lock on the DE 10 that rested there.

Lezo knew better than to argue, so the Rodian ascended the ramp and headed for the command cabin of the ship.

Using the full height of her 1.8 meter frame, along with her claws, teeth, and assorted weaponry, Atlan reached the Neimoidian shuttle in less than a dozen strides and stared down at the startled human, whose mouth hung in a moment of complete surprise.  To his credit, he quickly recovered and with a grunt of annoyance, he adopted a stance of such arrogance and false dignity that the stench made Atlan’s nose sting and moisten slightly in natural revulsion.

Atlan instantly wanted to kill this human.

“What do you want?” the human barked in a gravelly monotone.

Atlan narrowed her eyes and gestured towards the three children, who now cowered in a heap well away from the two adults.

The human laughed harshly and his body shook with combined nervousness and disbelief, “Them?  You don’t want them.  They’re nothin but trouble, riiiiGHT?!!!!”  He ended the exclamation with a roar directed at the children.  To his chagrin, the children’s expressions never changed.  If anything, they all three managed to look rather unimpressed.

“YOU…” he stepped towards the oldest with a raised hand.

Atlan’s right claw shot out and latched onto the wrist of that same hand with a relentless grip.  The grip began to tighten.

“You have no right to interfere with—“

“Were you going to hit her again?” Atlan asked calmly, still increasing the pressure upon the wrist, noting the pain swelling in the human’s eyes.  The stench oozing from his pores now was of outrage, and this made Atlan smile slightly, the tips of her teeth just showing.

“Well?  Were you going to hit her?”  Atlan asked again, even more slowly this time.

The human’s words burst out in a spatter, “YOU HAVE NO RIGHT TO INTERFERE WITH—“

The Trandoshan silenced him by slamming first the hand, then the head, into the door panel of the shuttle.  The human slithered down to the metal platform in a pile of blissful unconsciousness.  Atlan turned to the three children.

Three faces, all dirty, one especially so, stared back at the bounty hunter.  For just a moment, Atlan wondered exactly what it was that she was doing.  Interfering with a slaver?  Assaulting him?  Stealing slaves?  Was THAT what she was doing?

“Are you going to kill us?”

Atlan was jerked back into the moment by the challenge, coming from the eldest who had the bloody nose.  The eyes of the child were almost black.  Void of emotion.  What had they been through?

“No,” Atlan replied coolly, studying the three with a nod, “but if you stay here, I may as well do just that.  He own you?”  She nodded now at the unconscious slaver.

The girl shrugged and said, “He took us.  I don’t know who owns us.”

“I see…well,” Atlan kneeled down and began to search the human for some form of identification.  Nothing, of course.  “I’ll be right back.  In the meantime, you three have a choice to make.  Come with me, or stay here.”

The Trandoshan drew her DE 10, purposely holding it well away from the kids, and then boarded the shuttle.  She found the interior as battered and broken as the hull, quickly found what she wanted, though, in the ship’s cabin, and then exited the ship.  The three children stood there together, all holding hands, looking very brave.

The eldest girl spoke again, “If you’re not going to kill us, then we will go with you.  I—I don’t know where we will go, but for now, we will go where you take us.”

Atlan nodded, “I’m Atlan.  You will meet my partner, Lezo, in a moment.  He’s a Rodian, and I’m female just so that you know.  Hard to tell with my kind,” the Trando continued, noting the surprise in the children’s eyes.   “You got anything on board that you want to take with you?”

All three shook their heads in unison.

“Let’s go, then,” said Atlan and led them to her ship.

Once the children were strapped in, Atlan joined Lezo in the cabin.  The Rodian asked only one question, “Who was he?”

Atlan settled into the captain’s chair as she began the preflight sequence and closed the belly ramp, “The ship had a false registration, of course, but he was arrogant enough to put his real name into the ship’s log.  His name is Dr. Cornelius Evazan.”

The YT 2400 fired its repulsors and the ship lifted slightly.  “I take it from your silence that you don’t know who he is,” Atlan continued as she fired the engines, “so I’ll tell you just a wee bit of his horror story.  He is known in the Underworld as a surgeon of inexpensive cyborg surgeries that more often than not end in the patient being dead or more permanently maimed.  Oh wait…you might know him as Roofoo.”

Lezo swallowed loudly, “Roofoo?  Doctor Death?”

“That’s him,” Atlan replied as the engines blasted into color and the YT 2400 leapt into the Endorian sky, quickly reaching the blackness and silence of space.

Year 19, Mesric, Tatooine

“I have wracked my brain for two days now, Atlan, and I still can’t come up with one reason, much less a good one, why you did what you did at the Outpost,” Lezo said as he helped himself to the large portion of Bantha Surprise that sat steaming before him.

“That’s no surprise, dear Rodent,” Atlan replied, seating herself across from him at the table, “no matter how long you tax your brain, it is never going to grow any larger in its capacity to comprehend what it is that MINE acts upon.”

Lezo blinked, took a sip from his Bitter Lizard ale bottle, and then blinked again, “I know that you are taking advantage of that last spice bowl and its effect upon me, but…..what?!?!?!”

Atlan took a bite of the steaming meat concoction and then pointed her spoon at the bottle, “What do you think of it?”

“I think that you probably made an enemy for us that is going to make me sleep a little less soundly, “ Lezo burped.

“I meant the ale,” Atlan took another bite, “it’s from that last batch.  What do you think of it?”

“Oh,” Lezo took another swallow, “it’s bitter.”

“It’s supposed to be bitter and served warm.  I only chilled it because you won’t drink it warm,” Atlan chided.

“You know, if you would stop being a smuggler, we might make some money as bounty hunters,” Lezo shot back.  “I mean, this last job we pickup and deliver trees from Endor and flowers from Naboo…what is that?  Trees and flowers!”

“Yavin Bile Trees and Nabooian swamp flowers,” Atlan corrected patiently, “each are vital components in the making of a resin that can be used to enhance—“

“Sounds like spice or something like it and neither one has anything to do with bounty hunting,” Lezo smacked his lips after another sip of the ale.  “And, by the way, it’s pretty good.”

“Thanks,” Atlan pushed her plate away, “and you’re right about taking those kids from Roofoo.  The truth is, I have no idea what I was thinking.  In fact, I wasn’t thinking.  He had a smell about him that made my stomach churn….it wasn’t so much that I wanted the kids, it was moreso that I wanted to kill him and if I did that, then I was going to have to do something with the kids.”

“Not necessarily,” Lezo corrected.

The Trando paused, started to argue, and then shrugged, “Okay, so we could have left them.  I guess that I didn’t want to do that.”

“You guess?”  Lezo laughed.  “And now what, Atlan?  We have both had our MBH licenses less than a year, we are just making the rounds in the hierarchy of the guild itself, got ourselves dug in pretty well here in Mesric, and suddenly we have three living pieces of cargo.  What do you plan to do with them?”

“Not sure yet,” she admitted, “but I do know what I need for you to do in the meantime.”

“What’s that?”

“I need for you to stay here with them while I go and take care of some pending business.”

Lezo drained the bottle of ale, “How long?”

“No more than two days, maybe three.  Just stay here and keep the kids inside,” she stood up and went to make a second plate, “we just got supplies in Mesric so you should be fine.”

“And if Roofoo shows up?”

Atlan sat back down, “You think he’ll come looking for those kids?  Don’t you think that they were just…walking experiments?”

“I think that they might still be walking experiments, and I think that he might come looking for you.”

“The med center droid said that they were all three totally clean of anything infectious or cybernetic,” Atlan replied.  “And I didn’t tell him my name, so he can’t come looking for me.”

“It would take two, maybe three days at the most, of hanging out at the Endor outpost and asking around for him to get either your name or the ship’s name,” Lezo said, “you’re a bounty hunter, not a smuggler, and some folks still think it’s odd that a Rodian and a female Trandoshan are partners…in other words, we aren’t exactly invisible and we haven’t been very quiet in our work.”

“Okay,” Atlan thought a moment, “stay inside, lock the doors, set the droids on patrols, and I’ll be back in a few days.”

“With a plan?”

“With a plan.”

“And if Roofoo shows up?”  Lezo asked, packing the shisa with fresh spice.

“Kill him if you can, and if you can’t, don’t open the doors,” Atlan nodded at the spice, “don’t smoke that around those kids while I’m gone.”


Atlan quickly donned her dark sun goggles as she lowered her head to step out of the city shuttle. Bestine.  Blistering.  Blinding.


The human just in front of Atlan began to cough suddenly as a sheet of sand pelted the shuttle port, stinging uncovered flesh relentlessly.  Atlan sidestepped the human, who stopped altogether to catch his breath, and made her way through the dusty streets towards the Bestine Hotel.

The lobby was full, usual for the late afternoon, especially with the recent adoption of Bestine as the home of a rather large, and ever increasing, Imperial garrison.   That didn’t particularly bother Atlan.  She had never been overly fond of the Republic or its Senate, and in the world of the Outer Rim, it really didn’t matter who had power back in Coruscant and over the Core Worlds.  It was certainly interesting that the newly declared Emperor already had some of his white armored clones settling in, but Tatooine was still governed by the crime lords, spice runners, and bounty hunters.   Atlan found it difficult to believe that a man as keen and educated as Palpatine would bother to spend credits or resources on any of the Outer Rim planets for any sustained period of time.

Atlan did not yet know that it wasn’t Palpatine, but rather his Apprentice, who had insisted upon, and been granted, the large garrison in Bestine.  Nor did she know about the expansive Imperial base recently installed at the Tatooine Oasis.  Ignorance, as the saying goes, is bliss.


“These are indeed the three children,” Captain Tivik nodded.  He smiled across the table at the Trandoshan, his face barely creasing to convey his false pleasure.  Tivik’s uniform was crisp, his officer’s insignia gleaming from a recent polishing.  The scent of his human blood and sweat made Atlan’s stomach churn with nausea.

“Are you sure that you won’t have a drink?  It would certainly make our business a bit more pleasurable,” Tivik asked as he poured himself another Corellian Ale from the half filled pitcher.

Atlan shook her head, “No, I’ll pass.  The information is still worth the twenty thousand credits?”

Tivik chuckled and lit a Corellian roller, “How about a smoke, then?”

Atlan grinned, getting the usual shocked look from the recipient of her toothy animation, and again shook her head, “That smokes either old or not Corellian.  Try one of these.”

The Trandoshan unsnapped a pouch on her utility belt and retrieved a metal case, removing two newly, and neatly, rolled merjas.  She lit them both, exhaling the thick, blue smoke, and then handed one to the Captain.

After one inhale and release, the Captain was visibly relaxed, if a bit glassy eyed, and seemed very pleased.  He took a deep swig of his ale and leaned in closer towards Atlan.

“You’re right, Wills, this is much better.  I’m assuming that…you have a direct source for such designer recreation,” Tivik’s smile was sincere this time.

Atlan nodded for the first time, “Indeed.  If one can’t get to Corellia for fresh smoke, then one must bring Corellia to them.”

Tivik’s eyebrows raised, “Meaning…?”

“Meaning that I am a gardener and I’ve made it a practice to always get soil and seed samples from wherever my travels take me.  Tatooine’s soil and climate are not conducive at all to growing anything–”

Atlan suddenly clamped her jaws tightly together.  Damn her own loose tongue, and the home grown Corellian smoke that loosed it.  She was telling this Imperial Officer far more than he had ever needed to know about her or her business.

“Fascinating, just fascinating,” Tivik did not seem to notice the Trandoshan’s hesitance, “you know, you speak as if you are an educated…er….educated Dosh.  Dosh is what you call yourselves, isn’t it?  Forgive me if I overstep my bounds, but I have never encountered one of your kind that speaks so eloquently.”

“Dosh is a harsh language, as is the Dosh culture.  I–” Atlan again hesitated, “I was not raised in the culture or on the planet.   You are correct, Sir, in that I am educated.  Educated, in fact, on Coruscant.  I have a master’s degree in history–”

“–and your thesis was on Jedi history, specifically your proof was on the origins of the Jedi and the practice of the Bendu facet of the religion,” Tivik finished the sentence.

“Those records are public,” Atlan shrugged, “I’m obviously not telling you something that you couldn’t find out…or already know.”

“Up until about five years ago, your life was all over the public records, Atlan Wills.”

“No need for it not to be, Captain.”

“And now you simply want to sell some information to the Empire and then disappear back into the deserts of Tatooine,” Tivik poured them both fresh ales.

Atlan said nothing.   Tivik’s scent was changing.

“The information on the children will pay as promised…ten thousand…not twenty,” Tivik laughed and took another drag, “and I will also have another one hundred thousand deposited into your account.”

“For?” Atlan could barely get the words out of her mouth.   One hundred thousand credits?

“I need for you to go to Corellia and get a small business license.  Buy a small shop on the outskirts and set it up to attract more of your kind.”


“Bounty hunters…slicers…pirates,” Tivik motioned around the room, “the Emperor wants information from all quadrants of his galaxy, and he will reward well for those who provide it.”

Atlan took a long drink of the ale and a longer inhale on the Corellian smoke, “I’m not a business person.”

“So noted.  One of your hobbies is ghost stories, yes?”

“How?!”  Atlan immediately lowered her voice, “how do you know that?”

“One of your professor’s noted it on your records.  Called it a foolish and wasteful endeavor for such a sharp mind, however, we think it will serve you well,” Tivik pushed a parcel across the table towards Atlan, “that should get you started.  Welcome to the service of the Emperor.”


New Businesses

Licenses granted this month include Levoy’s Weapons, Beer’s Beer, ……………..Smuggler’s Ghost……


Holonet Listings from Search:  Galactic Hunting supplies

1.  Smuggler’s Ghost, South Coronet, Corellia.


Small Business Report

Smuggler’s Ghost, a privately owned business registered on Corellia, has applied for an expanded license to run a shuttle and cargo service that will be called Gray Cat Cruises.

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