From the humblest of beginnings. (Open to all)

[Roth Likonis]

"Anobis? This place is the back end of nowhere." - Han Solo​

​

Planet: Anobis​

Galactic coordinates: L-7 (Hex Y-20)​

State: Civil war​

Description: Colony world, populated sparsely by miners and farmers, history of chronic violence and civil war.​

​

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

Anobis. A colony world of sparse settlements centered around farms and mines, the world had a record of violence longer than a drunken Nikto on a crime spree; the planet was torn up, pockmarked with craters and scars, and seemed to be able to manage peace only a few years at a time before it managed to plunge itself into yet another decades long war.

The cause of the dissent? Why, credits, of course.

The miners of the planet depended on off world trade with the rare procurement ship from the odd militant government and wayward trader - they depended on it for their survival. The farmers, meanwhile, were largely self-sufficient, and didn't want their planet supporting the war machines of the galaxy, and supported an isolationist stance on moral grounds. The difference in opinion led to violence; the forests of the planet were rigged with traps, ranging from landmines, invisible monofilament nets, motion activated auto-turrets, holographically disguised pit traps, and more. The fields of the planet were riddled with burrowing detonators - a kind of burrowing centipede-like land mine that could seek out targets and detonate; they numbered in the hundreds for even a single field, making tilling, sowing, and harvesting a deadly affair. Meanwhile, the mines were rigged with motion and sound activated sonic detonators - designed to maim flesh and collapse tunnels. This was on top of old fashioned guerrilla warfare using blasters and slugthrowers.

Around and around the violence went, nobody really winning, nobody really losing; just senseless violence for the sake of it, like a child screaming at the sky to make it stop raining - a primal cry against the established order, to try and make sense of their realities...

-----------------------------------------------​

Kaird Galfridian reclined back against the landing gear of his ship, intent on taking a well earned nap. Well, mostly deserved...there wasn't much to do on this backwater planet in the middle of Gods forsaken space. As he leaned back and closed his eyes, trying to get comfortable on the metal against his back, a drop of water landed on his forehead - slowly, his eyes opened and crossed to look at the drop as it dribbled down his forehead to the end of his nose. Odd. It was colored purple. "Purple? Fracking hell, we're leaking coolant again." Muttered Kaird, closing his eyes once again and wiggling a little to the left so that the coolant drip wouldn't disturb him. He did nothing to seek out the source of the drip; there wasn't a point - his ship, the Rusty Riot, was named so for good reason. A Space Master medium transport, the ship was competitive against the freight standard GR-75, and with its long and narrow shape, could hold just as much cargo as its competitor. Combined with its four laser cannon turrets, and its forward command saucer section that had spacious rooms and accommodations, the Space Master was a popular alternative to the cramped GR-75, and was considered a prime ship for freighter and smuggler captains alike.

Of course, in its prime, the Rusty Riot was not.

On first glance, the ship appeared painted orange in color; it was only until one came closer that you realized that every square meter of the ship was rusted over and oxidized. With the rust came a heap of problems - leaky coolant and hydraulic fluids, pinhole leaks in the guest quarters that exposed it to vacuum (and thus was permanently sealed up), a completely dead port side engine, and a faulty targeting computer that made the ship's single operable laser cannon spew fire and death at everything but the intended target. All of this was due to the ship sitting in a junkyard for nearly twenty years, constantly exposed to the elements, scavengers, and vandals. Kaird had bought the ship at "Super nice discount price! You buy, yes yes yes?!" And if the gibbering Rodian saleman was to be believed, it had once been owned by a powerful warlord and criminal syndicate. No one really believed that, but a ship was a ship, and they had been desperate to get off world at the time. So Kaird and his first mate, Valana, had chipped in together and bought the rust bucket, on the condition they could salvage a few parts from any of the wrecks the junk dealer deemed "unsalvageable."

So began their true troubles. They salvaged a defective Portal Delta Navicomputer from a TL-1800 freighter - a Navicomp renown for cutting out and being glitch prone at the worst times; while simultaneously salvaging a hyperdrive motivator from a compatible Kuat Drive Yards ship (albeit half the Rusty Riot's size), a KLT-Kuat light freighter. The end result? When the Navicomputer did manage to input the proper coordinates without glitching out and shutting down, the undersized motivator leeched energy from other systems on the ship; life support, gravity plating, weapons, shields - you name it. Half the time they were lucky to jump to hyperspace and arrive at their destination in one piece. But, then, that's what you did when you were poor; you made do with what you had. And they were indeed poor. The Rusty Riot and its crew took on practically whatever job was thrown at them or landed in their laps, with some exceptions - almost always enforced by Kaird, on moral and ethical grounds. In Anobis' case in particular, they had been hired to deliver forty metric tons of assorted foods, drinks, and condiments to the miners and farmers - they hadn't been told that the planet had declared a new civil war, or the fact that what tiny shops and businesses that existed were now too poor due to the war effort to accept the Rusty Riot's cargo.

So here they were, stuck ground-side without enough fuel to engage the hyperdrive. They could move the ship maybe a couple hundred kilometers a handful of times, but the planet was so primitive, there wasn't much point. The shields, thankfully, were the newest and most functioning piece of tech on the ship - and in an emergency, they could engage them (and hold them on) practically indefinitely against any of the small calibre arms the locals employed. That which they couldn't defend against, they could blast away at with their faulty laser cannon. Surviving, didn't mean thriving at the end of the day, though. They had parked the Rusty Riot between the mountains and the fields, declaring the immediate zone around the ship as neutral territory. To those that wanted (and had the credits to pay) the Riot would serve food and drink for a nominal fee, not discriminating against patrons. The idea was to save up enough credits to get some fuel and leave the planet - and it was pretty much the only plan they had, given the fact Kaird wouldn't allow taking the fuel from the locals by force. So here they were, stuck, playing at chefs and cooks while the locals killed each other. They had popped open several of the cargo modules doors to make makeshift awnings, and had scattered about small and medium crates; small crates were chairs, medium crates were tables. Small crate lids acted as plates.

But Kaird could care less. They were free, free of cares, free of worries, and, most importantly...free to nap.

 

[Audren Sykes]

Tarion Fenn
Location: Anobis
Objective: Examine offerings

The miners who worked the world of Anobis were eager to make a contract. Representatives had reached out to TransGalMeg with an offer to come see the operation and meeting the people, see if they could work together. While couched in professional terms and carrying the air of only polite interest, the fact that the planet and operation hadn't even been on TGM's sensor board before the communique meant it was a small operation. That prompted research.

The initial reports were less than promising. The planet was in the midst of a centuries old on-again, off-again civil war pitting farmers against miners. The entire place was a war zone, with booby traps scattered across the place. The minerals and crystals that the mines produced could be useful, but the planet was by no means the only source of these materials. The amount of security that would be required compared with the expected output suggested that the cost would not be worth the reward.

Tarion suggested that they at least go look the place over. Reports could only go so far after all, especially when so little information actually came off the planet. As it stood, most of the information they had came third-hand, from smugglers and the like. He'd been given the go-ahead, so long as he took at least one security guard with him. Tarion didn't think he needed a bodyguard, but after being reminded of the dangers inherent to the planet and the possibility of violence from the very people he was going to meet, he agreed. He'd loaded up a transport, pulled a member of the security team, and headed out.

The plan was fairly simple: the bodyguard would stay in the background as Tarion's assistant and let him deal with the contact. As part of the role, she'd dress in normal business clothing and carry a datapad, comlink, and other necessary equipment. However, the clothing would be made from shell spider silk and she would have a concealed weapon. Together they'd walk through the standard meet and greet, look over the possibilities, and make end recommendations once back at headquarters. To try and minimize any harsh reactions at the lack of an immediate decision, the response to the original invitation had specified that TGM's representative would be examining and give his report, which would be factored into the final decision.

The ship had landed in the very early morning, and the meetings had proceeded about as expected. The two had been shown to a few of the mines to witness the operations. Numbers and shop talk had been bandied around, but no pointed questions had been posed by either side. Around midday, the mining representatives had insisted on taking the two out to lunch, insisting they experience the place. It was a peculiarity to say the least. The airspeeders brought them to the what had been described as a diner, only to eventually show them a rust-orange transport on the ground. Cargo doors were open to create shaded eating areas, and crates made up the chairs and tables.

"See, the Rusty Riot has an atmosphere unlike any other. The crew enjoyed our planet so much they decided to stay and open shop in the food industry!"

Tarion managed to smile and agree convincingly, while the bodyguard's face twitched momentarily as she suppressed a snort or laugh. The given story was extremely unlikely to be the truth, but to say so or even imply disbelief could be taken as an insult. The representative was trying very hard to paint his planet in the best light possible without showing how hard he was trying. As it happened, the beings here at the Riot - the crew, that was - were the only ones they'd seen so far that hadn't been part of the carefully-created presentation.

[member="Kaird Galfridian]​

 

[Roth Likonis]

"Kaird? Where are you? We've got visitors and this time they look important, they might even be...are you sleeping again? Haul your ass out of bed already!" Came the shrill and annoying voice, jarring Kaird out of his dreams of dancing and twirling women, exotic foods, and thrilling adventure. His eyes opening, Kaird groaned as the sunlight made him wince; squinting against the light, he glared daggers at the source of his irritation - his first mate, and the bane of his existence, Valana Allovar. The woman was a Petrusian, which meant her skin was naturally a vibrant hue, in this case a pleasant light red color, offset by facial striations, pointed ears, and a mass of blonde hair that developed natural thorns. A naturally thorny woman with a chip on her shoulder and something to prove, the fact she was the ship's pilot (and the ship was currently stranded) meant she was in a particularly belligerent mood. "How many naps have you had today? This isn't a leisure cruise! I mean really, could you be any more irrespons -" She was interrupted by an ear splitting scream from Kaird, who suddenly backed away from her, holding a shaking finger out at her. "What the hell is your problem!?" Valana snapped in response, turning to look behind her - and seeing nothing.

"There's a walking talking rose bush right in front of me! It's thorny and ill-tempered!" Sputtered Kaird, fumbling at his belt to retrieve a canteen of water. Unscrewing the lid, he made to splash Valana with its contents, but the woman quickly ducked behind the landing gear. "Quick! In this arid climate, we have to water it or it will surely perish!"

"Not this again! You're not going to splash me with karking water!" Snapped Valana, backing away from him, a hand slapping against her hip to her blaster.

"Think of the environment!" Retorted Kaird, slowly moving around the landing gear. Valana was having none of it; as Kaird moved, she moved, constantly putting the gear between them.

"Kaird, please! I just want to get off this rock! I-I can't cook, and the locals leer at me because I'm the only female alien they've ever seen, and I just...I just want to get off of this rock. Please? C...Captain?" Valana almost threw up on that last word - "Captain" - due to the sheer lack of respect she had for Kaird's command ability. Lazy, unmotivated, constantly sleepy and disinterested; punctuated by moments of sheer risk taking, devilry, womanizing, gambling, and gunslinging. In her mind, a Captain this did not make.

But, the magic word did the trick. Kaird snorted and took a gulp from the canteen before slipping it back onto his belt. Checking the charge on his DG-29 heavy blaster pistol, he set the weapon to stun before slipping it back into the holster on his thigh. "Oh, fine! You're no fun at all...ever since we got to Anobis!" Sighed Kaird, walking towards the awnings. A cluster of tables were arranged a makeshift counter (simply a row of medium crates with smaller crates in front of them for seats. Behind the counter, a grizzled looking and muscular Besalisk used his four arms to flip cooking meat into the air, stir bowls, mix drinks, and generally do the cooking of five lesser men. "Jax likes it here...don't you Jax?"

The Besalisk, chewing on the end of a cigara, took a swig from a flask that most certainly did not contain water, and shrugged in response. "S'alright. Beats the mines." He said simply, his voice like gravel.

"See?" Said Kaird, turning to Val and giving a wink. "He likes it here. And if our chief engineer likes it here, and I like it here...that means the majority vote is that it isn't so bad here."

"First of all...as Jax is our only engineer, that makes him just an engineer, and not a chief of anything." At that Jax looked up, his scarred and thuggish face looking genuinely hurt. Val made sure to wave the comment away when Kaird wasn't looking, and rolled her eyes at Jax's satisfied grin. Everyone had a title and a vote on the crew - and they hung to it like a lifeline. Sometimes it was all they had. "Secondly, Anobis sucks. It sucks harder than a black hole. There's a civil war going on, if you haven't noticed. Were you not up listening to the mortars? If one of those hit us with our shield down we could...we could..." She trailed off, clenching a trembling hand. They couldn't shake, not ever; a pilot had steady hands. Or so she told herself.

"Val...dont worry, ok? I'll take care of it. I promise. I won't let anything happen to you." His hands came up to rest on her shoulders, and he flashed her a reassuring smile.

And that was all it took. The anxiety fled, the flutters left her, and suddenly she felt grounded. His absolute surety, his confidence; when he put his mind to it, when he was serious and focused, he was like an immovable mountain. Strong. Safe. "I..." Heat rose to her cheeks, and she hoped no one would notice; her red skin hid it rather well, she had learned. "Ok...Captain." A girl could fall for a guy like that. And, even though he had never shown a single inkling of thinking about her in that way, a girl could still hope, perhaps, that there was more to him?

"And Val?" He added, his hands still on her shoulders, that roguish confidence still in his voice and that wry grin on his lips.

"Y-yes?" Responded Val, breathlessly.

"Please wash up before they get here. You smell like a sewer. I need you up front as eye candy so you can sell the big items." He said matter of factly, his words not matching his demeanor.

No. He was a frelling pig. The sound of a slap echoed across the valley and the mountains - and a stream of curses that would make a Weequay pirate blush followed soon after. Ranting, Val stomped up the boarding ramp, the cursing - which had now shifted into other languages - fading after her. Idly rubbing his cheek, Kaird laughed slightly, shaking his head a little, before running a hand through his bedhead to make himself more presentable.

"Why d'ya do that Cap?" Asked Jax, not taking his eyes off of the stoves in front of him. "I ain't even the same species, 'nd I know that ain't what you say to a fem, even if she was workin' the septic system." Wiping off a crude sign (a plasteel sheet with crude writing from a spacers pen), he wrote the special of the day - "Mystery meat surprise."

"It's for her own good." Kaird said absently, dusting off the dirt from his field jacket, and rubbing some grease off of his brow. He looked the image of a spacer, and not even remotely a maitre 'd. Jax, for his part, wore dirty overalls that had the words "Chef" crudely stenciled on the front. A few seconds later, still fuming, and looking abnormally red (for her), Val came down the boarding ramp wearing a one-piece spacers suit that hugged all the right curves in all the right places - the closest thing to a feminine article of clothing that the woman owned.

"Alright everyone...it's showtime." Muttered Kaird. And, with that, the trio greeted the airspeeders as they touched down...

-----------------------------------------------​

"See, the Rusty Riot has an atmosphere unlike any other. The crew enjoyed our planet so much they decided to stay and open shop in the food industry!"



Kaird overheard the exuberant words as the occupants from the airspeeders made their way closer to the Riot, and he smiled widely. "Of course! The air quality is amazing here, and the UV index is phenomenal. Would you believe I've had some of the best sleep I've ever had on this planet? Very restful." Behind him, he thought he heard Val grinding her teeth, but he ignored it. "Welcome to our fine establishment, and remember..." He gestured to Val, who smiled awkwardly - apparently hating the attention and the routine.

"A-And...remember..." She cleared her throat. "♪ If your stomachs can't keep quiet, come to the Rusty Riot! ♪" She did a little jig along with some jazz hands, and smiled weakly.

Kaird cleared his throat nervously in response to the weak performance. "Please excuse her; she's a new hire, a local girl who hit her head and...well, you've seen the result." Turning to look behind him, he made a throat-cutting gesture to Jax, who promptly took a sign down displaying the slogan - who, muttering all the while, began drafting a new tagline and musical ditty. "A few rules before we seat and serve you, if I may. First, if you have weapons, please keep them holstered. Second, miners sit on the forward side, and the farmers on the back side...anyone found sitting in the wrong area will be relocated, by force if necessary. Lastly, if you cause trouble...we'll blast you." He hitched a thumb at one of the Riot's laser cannons for emphasis. "Not to be scary or anything, just that people here have a tendency to, uh, disagree on certain topics. Topics that should not be brought up while at this establishment...savvy? Anything beyond that, go at it. I literally don't care. Now...can I seat you? Start you off with some water? Alcohol?"

[member="Audren Sykes"]

 

[Roth Likonis]

Time seems to lurch forward, some kind of galactic anomaly pushing the timestream through events, and into a different (equally plausible) future...

--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------​

The speeder slowly settled on the ground, coolant hissing, the engine winding down, and a battered and beaten Kaird, Jax, and Valana climbed out. All three looked worse for wear, and all three had minor wounds due to some unknown battle.

"That...could have gone better." Muttered Kaird, raking a hand through his hair.

"You think? Really, Kaird?" Snapped Val, slapping the Epicanthix across the back of his head while she was at it.

"They were businessmen!" Retorted Kaird, trying and failing to duck out of the way. "From TransGalMeg! That's...a semi-reputable company right there!" Walking into the shadow of their ship, taking a seat at one of the tables, Kaird leaned back on a crate, and sighed as his aching bones protested and creaked loudly. "What do you want from me? They had money, we need money...the reasoning here seems obvious!"

"They were trouble. You're a magnet for trouble." Said Jax solemnly. The large Besalisk, his once glorious apron singed and burnt, simply shook his head helplessly. "What have I signed on to? Is it always like this?" Pulling off the apron, the Besalisk donned a more utilitarian spacers jumpsuit, and sidled up to the counter - flipping the stove on and reheating some eggs. What the eggs were from, was anyone's guess.

"Yes. It's always like this." Muttered Val, deadpan. Taking a seat across from Kaird, her head came down with a dull thud against the top of the crate. "Face it Kaird, we're stuck here!

"We're not stuck." Replied Kaird placatingly, his hands patting the air. "Stuck implies we have no other options left."

"That little jaunt cost us over half of our ammunition, and all of our grenades. I'm down to one more power pack for my pistol. Val's rifle is on its last pack - it has forty rounds left. What about your pistol Kaird? And don't get me started on your sword...which you lost...gambling..." Muttered Jax, uncharacteristically sullen and combative.

Kaird winced at the mention of the blade. A beautifully tempered duranium cutlass, the weapon had a rare Kyuzo monomolecular energy edge - allowing it to cut through a variety of materials like butter, and was only second to a genuine energy sword or lightsaber. He had indeed lost it gambling, right here on Anobis in fact, and their problems had only spiraled out of control since that incident.

"Kaird, our decreased combat ability means we're out of options. We have just enough left to take the fuel by force." Reasoned Val. To the side, Jax nodded in agreement, already grabbing his pistol.

"No. It isn't an option." Replied Kaird flatly.

"Kaird, as poor ar they are, we are poorer. They won't miss a little starship fuel!" Pleaded Val.

"No." Replied Kaird once again, his voice turning flat.

"Kaird -"

"I said no, frell it! Am I the karking Captain, or am I not!?" Snapped Kaird, his voice echoing through the opened cargo holds.

Valana's lips pressed into a thin line, and silently she stood up - knocking over her crate in the process - and stalked towards the ship.

"Val, wait, I - " Began Kaird. It fell on deaf ears, though, as Val disappeared into the ship - the loud clang of a hatch being slammed close following soon after. To the side, Jax shut off the stove, pointedly picking up the pot of food that he had been heating up for the crew. "Well, at least we have food, right? Eh, Jax? Buddy...?" Unceremoniously, the Besalisk poured the contents onto the ground, grinding a boot into the mess, before crossing his arms.

Standing up, Kaird walked over to the hulking alien. Looking upward into the alien's steely gaze, he slowly bent over, and scooped up the eggs off the ground - mixed into the dirt, and stamped with with boot prints as they were - and slowly raised the mess to his mouth and began chewing on the ruined food before pointedly swallowing, his gaze never leaving Jax's. "Delicious." Hissed Kaird, dangerously. "You can make em everyday...as long as we're clear on one frelling thing: I'm the frelling Captain. Are we clear?"

"Aye." Grated out the Besalisk.

"I'm sorry?"

"Aye aye, Captain." Corrected the Besalisk, the alien's hand gently resting on the butt of his weapon before coming up in a smart salute. Releasing the salute, Jax turned on his heel, and similarly disappeared into his quarters on the Riot.

For a long moment, Kaird simply stood there - his own hand had come up to rest on his own pistol during the exchange without him realizing it - slowly he slid the hand off with a weary sigh. "I'm going to have a mutiny on my hands soon." Their words weren't wrong. Supplies were low, ammunition was low, the only thing that was't out of supply was food and living space; and with thoughts like that, they'd never get off this rock. Hells above and below, Kaird was hardly a saint...he'd done more than his fair share of evil in the world. Far, far more than his fair share. And he'd paid the price for it. He paid it dearly. It made sense, even, just to take the fuel. Thing was...things never went that smoothly. Things always, always went sideways. Someone would die who shouldn't have. Some kid, some friend...some woman.

Kaird flinched at that thought, and his hand came up to cover his eyes. He was suddenly and painfully aware that he was far, far too sober for this bantha kark. Point was, he wasn't going to make any more mistakes - at least, not the same ones he had already made. There was a time and place for killing; and it wasn't here, on this back water world, against piss poor villagers. Simultaneously, though, something had to be done. His crew was on their last legs. While he didn't think it would truly come down to violence, he didn't put it past them to take matters into their own hands, and get the fuel themselves. Beyond that, if they upped and hitched a ride on the next smuggler ship that came by, it would leave Kaird himself stranded...he couldn't fly the giant monstrosity that was the Riot all by himself.

His hand raking through his hair once again, Kaird slumped slightly, muttering under his breath. Shutting the exterior lights off, and hitting a button they had rigged to the sensors to jury rig a proximity field, he walked up the ramp to the ship and hit the close switch - the ramp thudding closed behind him. It was a long and lonely walk down the spine of the ship - a single unbroken corridor that went on for some fifty meters. Making his way to the saucer section, he glanced over at the crew cabins, noting that the doors had been shut, and the locked indicator was lit on the door panels. Neither Jax or Val wanted visitors.

Entering the Captain's cabin, Kaird blearily looked around at his sparse belongings. A crappy synthwood desk, a two person bed that had seen only one person sleep in for far too long, a cold and clammy refresher with a shower (a real shower!) that only sprayed cold water. "Home sweet frelling home." Yanking a desk drawer open, Kaird pulled a bottle of Corellian Whiskey out, broke the seal, and took a good chug of the amber liquid - not even feeling the burn of it as it slid down his throat. A few more swigs, and he was kicking off his boots and shrugging off his jacket, falling backwards into his bed. Staring at the ceiling - a yellowed plastoid tile affair - Kaird eventually reached over and hit the ship's intercom (just in time to choke on some of his whiskey as he drew in a breath to speak, forgetting to swallow). The coughing filled the ship, and, muttering, Kaird corked the bottle and tossed it to the other side of the bed, switching to the thin Marcan Herb cigaras that he preferred. "Ahem..." He didn't know what to say. What did you say to inspire people? "Uh...huh..." He cleared his throat again, and this time managed to stutter out some half coherent words this time. "T-This is your Captain...obviously. I know...I know things are hard. And I also know that a lot of what was said tonight...well, a lot of it was true."

As he spoke, his words came more quickly; and he sounded more sure of himself. "Ok? I'm not stupid. I'm not crazy. I know that we're...well that we're in trouble. A lot of trouble. But, I meant it when I said that we weren't out of options. Because, saying that we're out of options, that's like, saying we're out of hope, you know?" Kaird drifted off, shifting in his bed uncomfortably. "And that's why I got mad at you two. There is always a way. There is always a way out, whatever the situation is. I'll find it. Long after everyone else has stopped looking, I'll find it. I always have; and that's why you two are here with me. Because I keep going where other people give in, and take the easy route." Kaird laughed a little. "I mean, heh, we've never been about that, right? The easy way? So, believe in me again. Give me one more chance to get us off this rock...I've got a plan. I just need...I need you guys rested, and I need your patience. Just for a little while longer. Can I have that? And if this idea doesn't work...then we'll revisit taking the fuel by force. Deal...?"

He drifted off, and the intercom went dead as he switched it off. For several long moments, there was nothing, and then a small thud that echoed through the ship; Valana, banging something against her bulkhead. "That's one in favor..." Muttered Kaird. A half a second later, a loud thud followed, obviously made by someone muscled and multi-armed. "And two. I've got my crew on my side again...for a little while." Kaird retrieved the bottle from the bed, and poured some into his mouth - a difficult feat while holding a cigara between one's lips. "Kark, now all I have to do is think up a plan...in the next day or so...one that will work..."

Kaird took another long swig, feeling the world around him start to sway and swirl around him. Or was that him? Stumbling his way over to his desk for a stylus and paper? Whatever. His crew had faith in him...now if only he could have some faith in himself...