Yavin IV:

Kaylee Starsmore sits with her legs crossed at the base of a tree not too far from the main temple at the Jedi Academy. There is a slight breeze which is refreshing on this humid day. Floating in front of her, are several medium sized stones. She often finds that this spot under this particular tree is a good place to come and clear her mind when she has something weighing her down.

There is no emotion, there is peace.

She has had a lot on her mind as of late. She has felt trapped spending all her time at the academy, not having been off Yavin IV in close to a year. And if truth be told, she has been feeling a little cramped as well. Another trainee, Rush Diel has been following her around like a lost puppy, unfortunately for him, she has no interest in pursuing a relationship, with him or anyone else for that matter. It's not that she doesn't find him attractive, because she does. His long blonde hair and chiseled good looks are enough to make any girl swoon...except for her. She just doesn't have time to get involved with anyone. Yet he persists.

As she mulls over the actions of Rush, the stone that she is levitating begins to orbit around a larger stone, slowly at first and then faster and faster. Suddenly, there is a cracking sound, as if a tree were being split in two. Before she knows it, the trunk of a tree, along with a massive boulder comes crashing down on the stone that she had been levitating, burying it under the debris. Kaylee just sits there, her mouth hanging open in surprise at what just happened.

"Now lift your rock again." said a voice from behind her. The voice of her Master, Horn Datch. She turns and looks, only to find Horn and Rush, standing behind her giggling like teenage boys.

"You know, it wasn't funny when Master Skywalker did it either." Kaylee scolds them. With that, Kaylee gets up and begins to walk toward the jungle.

"Where are you going?" Rush asks, reaching out to grab her.

"For a walk." She says without looking at him.

"Come on Kaylee, it was a joke." He pleads, suppressing laughter as he tries to get her attention.

"It wasn't funny Rush, and if you don't mind, I'd like to be alone." She insists.

"Let her go Rush, she just needs to cool off a little." Horn tells him. "She'll be fine." The two men watch as she makes her way into the jungle, trying not to laugh, should they upset her any more.

Joren sat in a darkened corner in the very back of Jaspeel's Cantina. Jaspeel’s used to be a nice place, or more accurately, as nice of a place that could be found be on Nar Shaddaa. Unfortunately things have changed, a local gang known as The Kaths have claimed it as their turf. Since the Kaths moved in, business has been bad. At one point, Jaspeel’s was considered a safe haven. Beings from all walks of life would come here and drink and gamble in relative safety. Unfortunately, that was no longer the case. The Kath’s were a ruthless lot, and they took great pride in the violence that they were able to commit against anyone who they deemed worthy.

Voices rise and fall as a couple of Duros get into a heated exchange with a Rodian over a game of Sabaac. Before anyone even looks in their direction, the table is toppled over as the argument erupts into a full on brawl. Joren took a sip of his Jawa Juice as Jaspeel's bouncers grabs the two Duros and the Rodian and threw them violently out the door. Joren smiles to himself and takes another drink, taking some comfort in knowing that even with all the craziness going on in the galaxy, some things never change.

The chatter in the cantina goes quiet for a moment, even the music stops. Joren looked, expecting to see a group of Kaths walking through the door. Joren sighed in relief as instead of members of The Kaths, Joren sees a lone man wearing dark blue Mandalorian armor with a blood red lining around the visor.

The Mandalorian walked over to where Joren is sitting and pulls out the chair beside him. The Mandalorian takes off his helmet, and as usual he has a jovial grin on his face. Not exactly what most people expect when they see a Mandalorian, then again Dono Kiilar isn't your average Mandalorian.

"Good news vod'ika, I found out where they are holding our shipment."

"I knew you'd come through, let's go get it."

"Not so fast Joren, they're holding her in the sublevels of their main base of operations. There are two ways in, and neither of them are going to be easy."

"I wouldn't expect anything less, let's go."

"Very good, Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur"

Joren and Dono got up from their table and left the cantina, so that they could come up with a game plan to take back the shipment that the Kaths took from their ship as repayment for the credits that they feel that Joren had stolen from their leader, Amaral Kenso. Joren and Dono were both well aware that the Kaths had eyes and ears everywhere, and that if they were going to make plans for moving against the Kaths, they’d need to do so someplace safe. As they left the cantina, Joren thought about the last words that Dono had uttered on their way out of the cantina, and Joren knew that he was absolutely right in his assessment. This day was a good day for somebody else to die.

Tatooine

---

Mako’s boot sunk in the sandy mound. The trek from Bestine had allowed him to eat and drink but now exhaustion gnawed on his bones and muscles, sleep threatened to close his eyes. He would have slept back in Bestine if not for the constant vision of his father, spooking him awake every other minute.

Just thinking of the pale apparition made him bite his inner cheek with anger. For that was all it inspired in the youth. Not fear, for he was dead and not coming back. But irritation and disappointment in himself for having such dreams. He had hated the man and now these visions, ones realer than life itself, was plaguing his sleeping hours.

He felt his lids sink and watched the sea of sand fade into darkness for a moment. When he opened them again, he stumbled onto the top of sandy hill and squinted at the oppressive suns and endless sand. Tsk! Was all that left his clenched teeth.

“Mos … Eisley. I have to get there If I want off this wretched planet. And in order to do that...” He swept the Dune Sea with his narrow glare; the blues of his eyes shivering from the whole ordeal. “I hope I have enough water and rations for this.” He let his feet inch down until he slid with all the strength of gravity pushing on his back.

His boots angled with sand texture, forcing him to correct them. When he finally reached the bottom, he could feel the full bulk of Tatooine’s two stars on him. He raised a hand overhead while yanking off his hood. Their shine made his sun-touch skin look pale in comparison.

“If I die, no one can say I didn’t try.”

"So, is it settled then?" The Muun held out a hand, a fake ID card on it, reading "Jun Ii". "As settled as it will be, give me the card" Jun'er then took the card from the man's cold, clammy hands, before turning away, stuffing the card in his pocket and walking away. The man was taken aback by Jun'er's rudeness. "That card took a lot to make, a thank you would be warrented." Jun'er turned back, stared with furrowed brow, then drew his blaster faster that the Muun could react and shot the man with it, the Muun did have time to react, only letting out a yelp, before the blaster bolt buried itself in his head. He stood for one second, stumbling forwards for a second, before blood leaked from his mouth, and he fell to the ground, with a loud smacking sound, black smoke leaking out of his wound. "Thanks." Jun'er walked out of the alleyway, back into the city proper, leaving a credit on the ground, plastered with fingerprints of the previous owner, Master Ju'wok, who, unbeknownst to Jun'er, was dead, killed on a mission to Tatooine, in an attempt to find the then child Jun'er.

Jun'er entered the main street proper, which bustled with activity, both Muun and Human, Jun'er checked his watch. "Lunchtime, better leave quick before someone finds the body." Jun'er looked around, but all the buildings were gray, with very few differences, the main thing being height. "But which building is the IGBC?" Jun'er shoved his hands into his pockets and sighed. "Better get walking" Jun'er began walking, every few seconds an overeager Muun would shove past him, Humans tended to be more polite, however, one especially chubby man was upset by Jun'er shoving past him. He yelled out something that probably made sense in his native tongue, but Jun'er understood none of it. The man ran up to him, panting all the way. "You wrecked my stock portfolio you moron! You'd better have money!" Jun'er shoved past the man again, looking forwards, but still slouched. "Stop ignoring me! Republic bastard!" Jun'er's eyes popped open, and he turned towards the man, his jacket swinging behind him, and bouncing against a few walkers, he walked up to the chubby man, and gripped him by the collar with both hands. He leant over the man, pushing him downwards. "The Republic huh? You'd better run, because if you don't, you'd better hope that a good doctor finds you." The man mouthed "I'm sorry" a few times, sweating profusely. Jun'er let him go, and the man ran into the crowds faster than he'd probably ever ran before. "Scaring your problems away won't always work Jun." Jun'er smirked, whispering to himself. "Enter Sun Underlar." The bespectacled Muun crossed his arms and tapped his foot. "I assume you got the card?" Jun'er turned and laughed. "You really think so little of me that you have to ask?" Sun's eyes opened wide, and then he laughed. "Good lord you have more scars than usual." Jun'er laughed loudly and then walked forwards, the men took each other in a firm handshake, with Sun's larger Muun hand wrapping tightly around Jun'er's. "Now, let's get down to business."

((Little short, but it got down all I wanted it to.))

Eriadu was an ugly planet. Dull and grey and boring, pockmarked with messy urban sprawl and polluted seas. It shouldn't be a difficult target: security was not what is should have been, and the PDF wouldn't be expecting him. Eriadu had been staunchly Imperial, and Leopard's information claimed that those sentiments were far from dead. Every government claims the people are on their side, obviously, but the data seemed credible. Then again, he wouldn't come along if there weren't Jedi present. It should be interesting: a distraction, an appetizer, before the main course.

He was in the rear of the freighter the Commodore had commandeered. His armor was on, the mottled plates silent and gleaming while he did what all good soldiers do before a fight: cleaned his weapons. He brushed the barrel of his wrist-flamethrower for a third time. He triple-checked his blasters, cleaned the bores and checked the batteries. Grenades were counted and double-counted, and his other more esoteric gadgets were run through with an eye for minute detail. He ran through diagnostics on his augmentations, and thanked providence for the all-green report. He saved his revolvers for last, polishing the already mirror-bright metal and loading the brass and steel rounds one at a time, not without a touch of relish.

Ahead of him in the ship, two hundred Stormtroopers and another two hundred recruits, all with their assigned duties. Come planetfall, they'd all have their own duties. He'd be operating on his own: not his preference of course, especially in close quarters, but the brass figured he was more than enough to handle the Knight and Padawan that were meant to be on planet.

Leopard felt the rumble of compressing atmosphere, and stood up. It was time: he was descending above the capital spaceport, and could hear past the thick door the sounds of clanking boots and muffled, tinny voices. He pushed through the door, and entered the makeshift hanger, the main cargo hold expanded and retrofitted to hold a dozen transports, and his sleek personal vessel. He climbed into the sleek flying-V shape, folding the wings down as he powered the extraordinary engine, watching the bay doors open in front of him.

"Leopard-1, this is Alfa-1. Captain has cleared you for exit. Strike for the Emperor." A voice cracked through his helmet speakers. He keyed the response.

"Understood Alfa. Exiting". His voice surprised him slightly, the deep and rough timbre echoing familiarly within the metal casing.

He thumbed the thrust forward slightly, narrowly slipping past a troop carrier and out, past the flames of entry and far above the Capital Building.

The Hunt begins again.

Of course, he had suggested a bomb. He always did, and it was always worth considering. There wasn’t much a Jedi could do to stop a ball of antimatter annihilating above them, and most couldn’t see the future and get out of there. It helped that they rarely were discrete in their presence, thanks in no small part to their tendencies towards burlap.
Of course, the Commodore had refused, and for good reason. Eriadu was too easily swayed to risk losing that advantage with large-scale destruction, and the Capital Building was of too much strategic importance to destroy for the sake of a pair of Jedi. And so, here he was.

The small ship was on autopilot as it descended towards the massive Capital tower and there landing pads it held. All but one were empty, the last holding a squat geometric corvette, likely the Jedi vessel. Leopard keyed the console, sending the landing documents, claiming he was a representative from Seswenna here for some talks over trade minutiae, and directed the ship to land. A familiar clunk-hiss, and the cockpit opened, out from which he dropped to the pad, his heavy armor making a significant crash after falling only three or four meters. He had purposefully left the screaming engine running. On the other side of the pad, a trio of human bureaucrats eyed him nervously. One of them reached for a communicator, but Leopard didn’t give him the chance to speak into it. Leopard reached to his lower back, and removed something the size of a blaster carbine, angular and jutting, grey with a black cylinder at its front. He squeezed the trigger, and the suppressed slugthrower spewed a cascade of tiny metal projectiles, slicing through the two men and one woman accompanied by the familiar rapid clicks of suppressed small explosions, the comparatively large rounds travelling at subsonic, but sufficiently deadly, speeds.

The three officials dead, Leopard tossed the suppressed weapon back into the cockpit, and listened to the engine turn itself off, leaving the pad in familiar silence. A silence which did not last for long, interrupted a handful of seconds later by the blaring of klaxons. Leopard thought he had failed to stop the man, but a distant explosion and the faint sound of firefights to the south corrected him. The Stormtroopers must have begun their operations, seizing government buildings and military installations all over the city. Leopard had wished they had waited: he needed to engage the jedi before they left the building, and having seen the size of their craft he knew they wouldn’t fly to conflict zones. They would just run there with the help of the force. Grimacing slightly at having to change his plan, he thumbed his communicator, and directed his ship to open fire on the corvette. The dorsal laser cannon wasn’t much against combat ships, but a civilian transport with its shields down would be turned to mince, and after a dozen ear-splitting shots, the corvette detonated.

The Jedi would have heard that.

The gentle breeze gentally brushed his fur as he stared over the Wawaatt Archipelago, even though the Battle of Kachirho was over a century passed Shoraddik could still see the Sepretisit's drop ships and battle droids storming the beaches. This is where the oppression of his people began; so many years of slavery, of constantly hiding fearing that the Stormtroopers would come and take them away to horrible slave labor. The Battle of Endor was the beginning of greater things. After the fall of the Death Star and the Galactic Empire Shor began an uprising taking the slaves returned them to their rightful homes. It was a long struggle but at last things seemed to return to normal, but something still felt wrong.

<<"The sea will not change Master Shor. So why are you insist on staring out it.">>

The gentle voice of Chief Tarfful broke Shor's concentration. Before the battle had begun Shor had been instrumental in the efforts to return him and restoring the wookiees to a point where they could put up a resistence. After Shor had left and Order 66 had turned the clone troopers against not only the Jedi but every other race in existence Shor's diplomatic work prior to the actual battle seemed pointless, but after the fall of the Empire Tarfful had been a keen ally in his crusade to free the slaves.

<<"Just taking in the sights, it's been a while since I've been here and I have always enjoyed the view.">>

<<"With things settling down around here I suppose you will be heading somewhere else. Any thoughts where?">>

In truth Shor hadn't thought much about where he should go next, with his work on Kashyyyk finally over his greater duties as a Jedi still needed attending. With the rise of the new Council under the leadership of Roan Skywalker, he supposed that he should head back to Coruscant to continue his work as a diplomat at large. A sudden sickening feeling struck Shor as he gazed into the sky, something didn't feel right.

<<"Coruscant...I'm going back to Coruscant.">>

Ardam found the two Jedi in an atrium, lightsabers already blazing blue, both wearing the traditional robes of their order. The Knight, a tall rodian male with bluer-than-normal skin, looked calm and determined. He clearly didn’t think Ardam much of a threat, no doubt used to ‘pacifying’ the better-equipped criminals he no doubt resembled. The padawan, a human female of no more than fourteen years, looked terrified: her blue eyes were wide, her dark skin glistening faintly with nervous sweat. Ardam faced them both, a placid expression on his face behind the grey faceplate of his combat suit. His left hand rested on a grenade at his hip, his right snaked towards the blaster slung across his chest. None of them moved.

The knight broke the pregnant silence. “You will lay down your weapons and allow yourself to be taken prisoner.”

The placid expression turned into a smirk. What defined ‘weak minded’ was always vague, but the training he had received (and developed, partially), was more than enough to stop the compulsion. Ardam wanted to simply remain still, just to toy with the Jedi, but time was of the essence, and now that the Jedi had declared his opening Ardam had a sense of the rodian.

First, he threw the grenade: a squat cylinder with light yellow stripes around its center. Predictably, the Jedi reacted quicker than even Ardam’s augments, and pushed the grenade back as Ardam unslung the blaster shotgun, closing the distance with force-aided strides. The grenade flew far behind Ardam, and if it had been deadly, it would have knocked Ardam off balance long enough to be impaled on the saber, armor or no. Fortunately for Ardam, the grenade just exploded with an unbearable bang, and lit the room up with the power of a small sun. The knight staggered, going off balance as he raised his arm to console his temporarily-blind eyes, and Ardam had all the time in the world to aim and fire.

A cone of red plasma arced out, barely dodged by the knight and singing the turquoise skin of his right arm as he dodged. The padawan came on next, saber swinging much less expertly. The padawan dodged the second cone of fire much more dexterously, obviously less harmed by the flashbang than her master, and cut a low arc towards Ardam’s legs. ‘Less effected’ was a far cry from ‘unaffected’, however, and, taking advantage of his young foe’s disorientation, kicked the girl right in the face.

A gout of blood splattered on the steel toe of his boot as the girl’s nose broke. At a glance, she looked to still be conscious, but Ardam thought that would not last. He did not have time to dwell, however, as he felt himself fly bodily through the air, propelled by the Force, and he crashed into the ground, skidding along the tiles with a high-pitched screeching. Looking ‘up’ towards his opponents, just in time he saw the rodian leaping improbably far through the air, seeking to strike the finishing blow. Clearly hoping to use gravity’s help to slice the head from Ardam’s shoulders, the rodian had to use the force to push himself out of the way of the jet of fire that sprung from Ardam’s left hand.

The impromptu life-saving maneuver spared the rodian from a fiery death, but it did allow Ardam, springing to his feet, to draw his vibroblade, with which he parried the second strike by the knight. They ran through a lengthy and nerve-wracking series of parries and ripostes, leaving Ardam the clear loser with a number of burns and cuts in his suit. Seeking a quick way out of the fight, Ardam pulled the pin from another flashbang on his belt while still defending himself with the vibroblade. The jedi did not see it coming, and was blinded for the second time. Recoiling in pain, and now almost certainly permanent deaf-blind agony, Ardam stepped forward and sliced the Jedi’s head off.

The first sound he heard was the head hitting the floor. The second was someone vomiting at the other end of the room. The padawan had been struggling to her feet, but was forced to crumple back to a kneeling posture as she evacuated her stomach. The knight’s body toppled a second later, having jumped in the air slightly with the spasms of death.

Ardam walked over to her, his hands still shaking slightly from adrenaline and fear. “Don’t stand up, girl, if you want to live.”

She made one more attempt to stand, for which he forgave her. Everyone has pride, and killing people over it when they’re already beaten achieves little. After her failure, however, she remained slouched on the ground. Ardam stopped ten paces away, blaster shotgun draw and ready.

“I can’t let you leave, you understa-“

“Fuck your sister, you monster!”. She still could speak, it seemed. “I’ll kill you, I’ll avenge Andoorni, and I’ll give your head to the council.”

Ardam waited to make sure she was finished. “I’m sure you’ll get the chance. Not now, however. I have business with the governor. If I were you, I would thank the Force for bacta tanks.”

“What?” The look of confusion played on her face until Ardam raised his foot and kicked her in the head once more, this time knocking her cold. He then broke her left leg at the knee with a hard stomp, before cuffing her arms and legs. He never did like hurting children, but he had learned that, with jedi, one can never be too careful.

His first piece of business handled, Ardam resumed his trek to the Governor’s office.

Jun'er and Sun walked side by side through the crowds of Muunilinst, Jun'er walked with crossed arms and straight legs, spinning around like a bored child, Sun was staring at a hologram viewer, buying stocks as he was walking, and of course he was talking all the way. "GTV stock is up 99 percent! I'm rich! Oh wait, I already was rich, well now I'm more rich! Hahahaah! This is awesome!" Sun started skipping with joy in his wealth. Jun'er looked up at the Muun, staring at him and rolling his eyes. "So, about the plan?" Sun stopped, causing Jun'er to walk face first into his back, stumbling for a second. When he looked up he was holding his face angrily. "Oh yes, the plan, so, let us go over it again. Firstly!" The Muun clicked his heels and held up his head. Before walking forwards towards the tallest building in the plaza. "You use the ID card to, now listen here Jun, we both know how well you listen." Jun'er opened his mouth to protest, only uttering a sound that sounded like the noise a sad bantha makes. "You go to the imperials, use the ID card, and boom! You're a logistics manager, you transfer the money to my account, and we make off like bandits! Hahaahah!" The muun's laugh was weasily as usual. Jun'er was finally happy that things were getting done, at least a bit, but he still needed the Muun to return his ship. "So, about my ship-" The Muun made a loud "Ohhh!" and shushed Jun'er more times than necessary, much more than necessary. He then placed a hand on Jun'er's shoulder, and looked into his eyes, however, due to being a (Taller than usual) Muun, he looked ridiculous, bent over with his knees also bent. Jun'er braced himself for another tangent, but Sun just tilted Jun'er's head up towards his face, and tenderly placed his hands on his face. "I, as your adopted father, allow you to know, that your ship is perfectly safe." Jun'er was confused. "Wait, you actually went through with that?" The Muun laughed again, slapping his knees as he doubled over in laughter. Sun straightened himself out, and looked down at Jun'er. "I'm a man of my word Jun, you of all people should know that." Just then, they were interrupted by the voice of a human secretary. "Mister Underlar, and son. We're ready to allow the boy to see his ship." Sun clicked his heels together again, and smiled. "Brilliant! Show the boy his new ship!" Jun'er suddenly had a bad feeling, New?

Sun walked into the tall building, followed by his secretary. Sun gestured for Jun'er to follow, but Jun'er stood awestruck by the size of the building, which, he now noticed, read "UNDERLAR ENTERPRISES" The building shined in the light of Muunilinst's sun, showing off the beautiful windows, and radiating over the city. Jun'er realized he was daydreaming, and shook himself back into the real world, following Sun into the building, the automatic doors amazing him as well. The interior of the building was as beautiful as the outside, white, radiant, Jun'er almost wondered how workers worked here early in the morning without being blinded. He looked around, there was a green door, a red door, and a blue door, all shining. He eventually saw Sun going up in a glass elevator, so Jun'er followed to the door of the elevator. After jamming on the buttons for a while, the doors opened, he stepped into a fully glass elevator, even the floors, showing the terrifying blackness of the elevator shaft, that he could probably survive falling down with what little force ability he had, he was confused as to why he was even worried. He pressed the penthouse button, which was of course the location of Sun's office, and the elevator shot up, faster than Jun'er was ready for, falling onto the ground. "Grace, bah, who needs it." Jun'er stood up and cleaned off his pants, although the elevator floor was much more clean than he expected. When he looked up, he was gobsmacked, the view of the city, and the surrounding ocean, was incredibly beautiful. He barely noticed the door opening. When he walked out, he was in Sun's office, a gray carpet, messy shelves and garbage everywhere, he wasn't sure what he expected. At the front of the office was Sun, staring out the window with his hands behind his back. "You promised me my ship, Sun, where is it?" Sun giggled, he didn't turn his body, only his head, looking at Jun with a smug grin. "You tell me." and with that, the wall opened, to reveal a hangar, and in the center, was a smooth black ship, shining like the rest of the building. Jun'er didn't even recognize it. Sun giggled "What do you think, mister Kyr'lath?"

"Torpedoes, repeating blaster cannons with a self cooling mechanism, and improved FTL drives. You'd be surprised how much that dinky thing costs." Jun'er was already busy getting acquainted to the new fighter. "The cockpit's nice too, but seeing as you two are busy, I'll leave you to it." Jun'er's eyes popped open. Oh yeah, the cockpit. Jun slid off the fighter, it was almost fun, like a slide. He ran over to the cockpit and leapt in, or he would have if the cockpit was open. "Don't wreck the blaster-proof glass yet Jun." Jun'er picked himself up, and pressed the blue square on the back of the cockpit. The glass made a loud whirring noise as it opened, almost like the engine of a speeder, or a speeder-bike! Jun'er leapt in, and looked around at the interior, it was very nice, everything was black, except for the green of the control panel, which he couldn't read. "Uhh... is there a hologram controls button?" Sun laughed before pointing to a button with the picture of a portly Rodian on it. "I really need to teach you to read." Jun'er looked unamused, and the hologram appeared, with all the buttons showing what they did by picture. "Perfect." Sun looked at the clock on the wall, which Jun could read, if it where analog, however, this one was digital. "You'd better be off, remember, avoid Coruscant, head for Admiral Sayall's ship, it's the big gray one... actually, you figure it out. God bless, Jun. Come back in one piece." Sun walked back, clicked his heels and saluted. Jun'er had a few questions, but had one chief among them. "Why not the Grand Moff's?" Sun stayed in the same position, not even twitching. "Tighter security on the Moff's ships, you can still access the funds from this one. Yet again, come back in one piece Jun, we need some comic relief around here." Jun'er closed the cockpit, gave one last thumbs up, and took off. He flew out of the building, and engaged FTL, sending Sun's office into an even bigger mess. Sun chuckled, "That boy is something."

Joren and Dono sat in the air ducts within the Kath’s compound. It was a tight fit and the air was dank, but they remained still. Joren knew that Dono was right when he said that it would be difficult breaking into the compound, but he didn’t realize until he was sitting there in the cramped air ducts just how difficult it would be. Joren looked down through the vents of the duct at the eight Kath’s standing directly below him, and he silently cursed. He had no doubt that he could drop down and take the guards out, but not before they had alerted the entire compound to their presence, and that would lower their chances of successfully getting their cargo back significantly.

After what seemed to Joren like an eternity, four of the guards moved on, leaving just the two adjacent to our location. Dono nodded and kicked the grating out, then dropped to the floor and in one smooth motion fired a blaster bolt that struck one of the guards directly in the chest. However, even before the guard hit the floor, the second guard had pulled out his blasted and fired at Dono, hitting him directly in the heart.

Joren landed on the ground just in time to see Dono return fire at the Kath, completely unfazed by the blaster bolt that he had taken to the chest. Joren grinned at his Mandalorian friend.

When we get out of here, I really need to talk to him about getting some of that beskar armor. Joren thought to himself as he fired his blaster at the remaining guards. Just as Joren was about to say something to Dono, a female voice filled the air.

"Okay boys, you're going to want to about halfway up the hall and take the left, then the second right. That should get you to the loading bay. Once you’re in, activate the bay doors and I can bring the Dreams in and we can get our cargo back." Nyna's voice crackled through the comlink.

“Got it.” Joren replied into the comlink as he and Dono followed her directions and took the first left turn, running into no resistance from the Kaths. It wasn’t until they took the second right that they ran into any trouble. The four guards who had left the hallway at the air duct in which Dono and Joren had gained entrance to the compound were standing just in front of the door to the loading bay.

Joren and Dono raised their blasters and were prepared to fire, however, the doors to the loading bay opened and a number of Kaths poured into the hallway, and they were not alone, they were accompanied by battle droids that the Kaths had “requisitioned” over the years. The Kaths and their droids began advancing on Joren and Dono. Joren looked over to Dono with an expression that was almost begging the Mandalorian to run, but he didn’t. Instead Dono took a round metallic object off of his belt and pressed a button activating it, before tossing the object at the oncoming horde.

"You might want to run, Vod'ika." He said. Joren took his advice and took off down the hall with Dono trailing just behind him. Several beats passed, and then an explosion ripped through the hallway, disintegrating the pursuing Kaths in one fell swoop.

"A thermal detonator?” Joren asked in disbelief.

“Just a small one.” Dono replied shrugging his shoulders.

“Just a small one? Don’t you think that’s overkill?" Joren said incredulously.

"Overkill Vod'ika? No such thing." Dono said nonchalantly as he began to make his way back toward the loading bay doors, and if Joren didn’t know better, he could have sworn that he could see Dono’s goofy grin through his helmet.

Jun'er flew through space towards the direction of the Admiral's ship, thankfully his ship had been upgraded for hyperspace travel without a booster ring, Sun really did his best with this one. Jun'er looked through the many settings of the ship, changing them to fit his wants, although he was pretty sure Sun hid the service drones behind a menu on purpose. Jun'er was impressed with the service drones themselves as well, spherical things that were about the size of his head, and yet could keep up with a ship in FTL travel, While preforming necessary maintenance! Jun'er didn't even have to pilot the thing, Sun'd had a man on the inside of the admiral's ship, allowing the ship to fly to his signal automatically. He'd really planned this out well, but once he was on thee ship, Jun would have to come up with it as he went. "Oh crap! I forgot to change into uniform! Well, I am in charge of the admiral's money, so I can come up with an excuse that would tread water." Jun'er fussed about over the plan for a while, before drifting into sleep.

"Identify yourself unknown craft! We will open fire!" The deep voice of an imperial startled Jun'er out of his slumber. I though I had a comms jammer, how are they contacting me? He'd have to worry about that later, for now he had to avoid getting blown to bits. But wait, he was talking to a stranger... welp, there goes the plan. "Uhhh... this is... uh, Jun Ii, I'm the, uh... logistics... manhandl-manager." Jun'er awkwardly coughed out, his face felt warm, and it was probably red, he wished that the craft had a fan of some sort. "Hello commander Ii, we apologize for any inconveniences, simple allow us to access your ID file, and we'll allow you access." Uh oh "Well, uh... I lost, my... ID file, in a crash. I can show you physical ID, you have uh... clearance to my holo-chat device." The imperial didn't even sigh, this was probably something that the real Mr. Ii did often. His hologram activated, and Jun'er was face to face with a near skeletal imperial, he had black hair showing behind his cap, although that was graying. "Hello again Mr. Ii, just show me the card, and you will be allowed access." as the imperial opened his mouth, it became obvious that he had synth-skin covering his right cheek, presumably from an accident. "Mister Kyr'lath? But you're dead!.... I apologize Commander Ii, I mistook you for an old friend, one who saved my life. I see your ID card, you have clearance, please forgive my foolishness." Jun'er's eyes popped at Kyr'lath, and he began to sweat profusely, thinking that his cover was blown, his question as to how the imperial knew his name remained unanswered, but the holo-device turned off and the hangar opened for his landing. "Whew, close one." Jun'er flew into the hangar, climbed out of his ship, and removed his imperial outfit from the cargo bay. Where's the changing room in this place?

((@nitemare shape))

“Admiral Fairfax, Eriadu has been seized. The governor and his council have surrendered, and the defense forces have been neutralized completely within the capital. We’re receiving messages of compliance from other population centers now, and I am deploying the rest of my Stormtroopers to ensure cooperation. The Revenue took light damage from the small complement of anti-pirate ships, but its combat functionality is not impaired.”

Commodore Fayet’s young, pale face was displayed in rather poor definition on her personal screen, his voice small and tinny, blaring from the cheap speakers. Amolia noticed a few of her bridge officers listening in: it was the first combat any of them had seen, beyond simulation, and she shared their enthusiasm. She did not stop them, this time.
“Well done, commodore. The fleet will be arriving within the hour: begin procuring food and materiel at high prices, and give ground forces eight hours leave. Remind them we are liberators: rape and pillage will be met with firing squad.”

The commodore nodded along with her, memorizing his duties and no doubt already planning ahead. It was one of few things she liked about the man. Understanding her to be finished, he saluted. “Understood ma’am. Emperor protect.”

She did not respond. His face snapped off her screen, and she looked up, running over what she knew. She looked out of the fore window, the transparisteel almost invisible as she gazed past it and saw the enormous dagger-shaped ship extend in front of her, the point nothing more than a speck against the white streaks of hyperspace. She stood from her command chair with some relish.

“Captain Linser, you have command. Relay to the fleet that orders have changed: the fleet is to enter medium orbit above Eriadu and prepare to repel counterattacks. I have business to attend to.”

The balding man, no more than thirty years old and with chocolate-hued skin, turned from his station directly in front of her now- vacated chair and saluted smartly. “Yes, Admiral.”. He knew better than to wait for a response, and simply began executing her orders efficiently. They had become quite the team over the months.

The walk to her quarters was a short one. A flight of stairs and a trip down a drab grey corridor deposited her in her spacious quarters. Two rooms and a personal lavatory, well appreciated. She used very little of it, of course, and today was no exception. She dropped herself in her far more comfortable personal chair, and turned to her desk, turning her various computers and communicators on as she did so. Her desk was immaculate, of course: there was no using heavy, wasteful and expensive paper on a Star Destroyer. Her computer, however, was highly cluttered. She still managed to navigate it smoothly, and keyed open a new communication channel. She trusted her staff, as any officer must, but some matters are best kept out of the minds of the fragile.

“Pardalis. I trust the Jedi were no problem, even without the bomb.”

The rough voice of her agent came across in terrible quality, the price paid for portable communicators. “They weren’t, boss. I managed to take the padawan alive, like you asked. I couldn’t get the knight, too dangerous.”

“Indeed. Is she fit for transport?”

“Absolutely.” Even through the bad connection she could hear a note of relish. “She’ll be no danger on the ship, though I’d recommend you let me handle her while she’s aboard. Jedi are slippery, even when you can resist their tricks.”

“Understood. The Bazaar will be entering orbit in an hour. I expect you here as soon as possible.”

“Got it, boss.”

His face disappeared, and Amolia sat back calmly. She couldn’t wait to interrogate the jedi: there were just too many things she wanted to know. A rare smirk played on her face, just for a few seconds.

--Victory-2 Class Light Corvette "Thunderhead"--

The Light Corvette dropped out of hyperspace above Eriadu. Aboard they were carrying who they thought was a Sith, his black armour and fear inducing aura, as well as his blatant disregard for their lives was all the proof that the crew needed. They had no idea that he had murdered the Sith and had taken his place. The blonde man stood on the bridge, looking down at the planet. "I sense... Chaos... Great chaos..." he said.

"Sir?" asked the Captain.

"Nothing... Prepare a shuttle." he ordered. "I am going to the surface."

"We have orders to hold position until the Bazaar arrives." replied the Captain. "I apologize, but these orders are direct from Imperial command."

"You orders do not concern me, Captain, I require a means of getting to the surface." he ordered. He stared at him with a stare that froze the soul and chilled the bone.

"I..." he stuttered. He walked to the comm "Radio Fighter group Delta-7. Tell them that Lord Cadara requires a means of getting to the surface." he then walked back to Orias and bowed to him "We have a fighter on its way, if that would be to your liking." Orias looked out to the planet. He could feel the fear radiating from the man.

"It will suffice." he replied, without looking.

--Eriadu surface--

The Governors building now had the Imperial flag flying over it, the squadron of TIE Fighters flew overhead, the lead one landed on the shuttlepad as the rest headed back to orbit. Opening the top hatch, Orias stepped out, and descended the ladder to the floor. He took his helmet off and carried it under his arm as he walked towards the main building. He was met by a Commander and a squad of Stormtroopers. "Lord Cadara, an unexpected pleasure." the commander said with a salute.

"How goes the battle?" he asked, looking around.

"All but over, my lord. There are a few Planet Defense forces still holding out but we estimate that they will be dealt within the hour." he said. "One of our top agents also managed to capture a Jedi." Orias then looked at him. He had his attention now.

"Lead me to the Jedi." he ordered. He was lead through the building, droids were working to clean up the bodies of the PDF that had fallen. They finally came to the main council room, there, he saw the "Top Agent" of which the commander spoke. He eyed the man up and down. "You are talented to have taken a Jedi alive..." he said.

Ardam gestured over his shoulder at the crumpled heap of the knight.

"That one was harder, honestly. Children don't make good soldiers, in my experience, no matter how much Force they have."

He sized up the man. At least, he assumed it was a man. The suit didn't give him much to work with. The man wasn't his enemy, he knew that. He just had never learned to not size up force users. Handling a sith was very different than handling a jedi: they were more aggressive, usually less reliant on lightsabers, and much more likely to use the force to cheat the fight. He wouldn't be able to close to melee, not without getting his trachea crushed, a likely scenario given the man's obvious fascination with old Vader. He couldn't hit him with conventional blasters, the presence was too confident for such a lack of skill, and a slugthrower would have a hard (but not impossible) time cracking through the almost parodical black.

As he absently considered what to do if the situation soured, he nudged the splayed, twisted form of the padawan with his boot. Still out cold, but breathing well enough. He suspected some force nonsense was helping her carry on, even while she was unconscious. He double checked the ankle and wrist locks: still secure. Her leg hadn't gotten any less broken. The bloody indent on her forehead was starting to scab over, but the upper quarter of her robes were drenched in partially-dried blood.

"So, what do you want with her? I've got orders from the brass, gotta get this one to the Bazaar as soon as it pops into the system. I'll need to stick around, you understand, gotta protect the valuables from accidents amateurs are so likely to make"

He may have to tolerate the sith, but he didn't have to respect him. Anyone who dresses like that isn't worth respect, at least in Ardam's book.

Orias looked him up and down. Obviously well trained to take out Jedi. He was confident in his own abilities, but he had no idea what this being was capable of. In situations like this, the first to move was at a disadvantage. He moved closer to the bounty hunter. moving until they were almost face to face, he was now pouring almost everything he had into a fear aura that projected around him. Even a being trained in resistance to the force would feel hard pressed to remain completely unphased by the powerful imposing presence. He was hard to read, his senses were telling him that his emotions were fluctuating wildly, it was a crude but effective method to fooling emphatic senses. "I don't care if you trust me, or if you dislike me, or even if you want to kill me... Just so long as you obey and fear the repercussions of disobediance, you are f use to the Empire." he said. The Commander swallowed hard as his eyes darted between the two men. He wasn't entirely sure which side he wanted to be on, but he was almost positive that he wanted to be on the side of the man that would choke him to death if he didn't help him.

"Umm..." the Commander interupted "Achem. My Lord, the Bazaar shall be entering orbit in approximately 30 standard minutes. She is carrying the facilities to perform an effective execution."

"I highly doubt that." Orias replied "Pain breaks all men... But Jedi, like Sith, are not men, they are above men. They control this universe at an atomic level, they are more attuned to gods." he knelt down and grabbed the Jedi's face, forcing her unconscious gaze to meet his. "I have seen this before. An old technique is to put ones self into a coma, attempts to rouse her are useless until she is fully healed. The mind has all but left the body and for all intents and purposes, she is dead." his claw-like grip tightened. He had a feeling that this one would make an excellent apprentice to the Acolytes. But in order to rescue her, he would need her to remain unconscious until he could get her to safety. As he stared into her eyes, he wrung her face, getting visibly angry. In actuality, this was a show to not raise suspicion as he placed a mental barrier in her head that would help to block out almost all pain. He had always been talented in blocking his own physical pains to push his body further. Now it was merely a case of doing it to someone else. He got visibly angry as he grabbed her by the throat and wrenched her body so that he now stood with his hand under her jaw and holding her up by her head "AWAKEN!!!" he roared, as he did, several pots aroudnt he room rumbled before tumbling over, he dropped her, before fixing his hair. An obvious attempt to regain composure. "I apologize... I believe that the Bazaar's facilities will be... Appreciated..." he smiled an innocent smile, which came across more as creepy. He was playing up the incopetance of the average Sith.

"Sir... I would ask that you do not touch the prisoner again. We must make sure she is not killed, should any information she is carrying be lost." The commander said.

"Of course." he breathed heavily. "Fetch me a drink, I grow parched." he waved his hand at the commander. He bowed and walked away. "So tell me, how has a being such as yourself managed to learn the necessary skills to kill a Jedi?" he asked.

Ardem was glad that he was wearing a helmet. He was also glad that he could turn he speakers off. He just hoped that the sith couldn't use the force to hear any better, or might notice the snickering. He would never get tired of dealing with sith, he didn't think. 'They are above men'.'They are more attuned to gods'. Once the sith started screaming, Ardem wondered if it was all an act. Like this was some new recruit, and he figured he had to fit in with the rest of the shriveled madmen and act extra crazy. The thought only made him leave snickers and move to full on laughs, his bulky armor no doubt failing to conceal his mirth now. His instincts were telling him to stop the dark jedi from touching the prisoner, but he knew the man wouldn't try anything. A tradition of favoritism towards evil wizards only went so far, after all, and Ardam was relatively certain this Sith knew where the line was.

"Do you usually tell field officers to get you drinks? I figure they have better things to do. Winning a war is a busy thing, not that you would know, of course."

Joren and Dono finished moving the last of the crates up the loading ramp of the Darq Dreams. Even with the help of levitation discs, it took them longer to load their newly liberated cargo back onto the ship. Joren was glad to be done with the task, because something just didn’t feel right, this whole thing was just too easy.

Joren can hear the sounds of distant footsteps coming closer, and through the Force, he feels the presence of someone which confirms that his fears were founded. Within moments, Kenso himself made his way into the loading dock with over a dozen men.

“It’s over boys, you’re mine.” Kenso said with a sneer. “Why don’t you just bring my product back down here, and maybe you and your Mando dog might live to see another day.”

“I don’t think so Kenso, we’re taking our cargo and leaving, and there isn’t a kriffing thing you can do about it.” Joren snarled defiantly.

“Oh, you may want to rethink that. I can’t make you’re life a living hell, Joren. You don’t want to stand against me boy, you may live to regret it.” Kenso said, his grin never wavering.

“What are you going to do? Kill me? It’s not going to happen. Let’s go Dono.” Joren said as he motioned for his friend to follow him into the safety of the ship.

“No, you misunderstand me. I’m not going to kill you, Joren. Normally, I’d slowly torture someone you care about until they begged me to kill them, then, when I’m satisfied that they’ve suffered enough, I’d grant their wish. But you have nothing I want. You don’t even have anyone for me to take from you. So instead, I have to get more creative in my retribution. I had to chose to take something…or someone, from one of your friends.” Kenso laughs.

“Whatever you’re planning…”Joren started before getting cut off.

“Again! You misunderstand me. It isn’t what I’m going to do. It’s already done.” Kenso snarled. “Take them.” He orders his men who open fire on the ship. Dono returned fire first, followed by Joren. However, Joren did not fire at Kenso’s goons. He knew that he had a rare opportunity to take out someone who had caused him and his friends nothing but torment for years. This was a rare opportunity to eliminate a man who would surely kill him, as well as his crew…if not now, at some time in the not so distant future. So Joren drew his blaster on Kenso and fired a single blaster bolt, hitting him square in the neck.

“Go!” Joren called to Nyna, who was piloting the Dreams. At his work she fired up the repulsorlifts and took off, launching the Dreams skyward and away from the Kath’s compound.



After their escape from the Kath’s compound, Joren and his friends debated their next move. They knew that they needed to get off of Nar Shaddaa, but they also knew that they couldn’t just leave. They needed fuel and supplies for the voyage, and thus they decided that they would first go to Kelsa’s family home to get what they needed, and then they would leave the Smuggler’s Moon.

However, from the moment that they set a course for the Sila family estate, they knew that something was very wrong. They could see the smoke from several miles away.

“Nyna…” Joren said to his friend, concern in his voice, urging her to hurry.

“I know.” She said as she moved the ship as fast as she could in sub safely maneuver the Dreams in sub orbit.

Within moments, the Dreams touched down on the landing pad of the Sila family estate, and what they saw horrified them. The estate was in ruins, it was as if an army had descended on the homestead and unleashed an unrelenting attack. As the ramp lowered, Joren motioned for Nyna to keep Kelsa on the ship, however, before Nyna could react, Kelsa rushed off the ship into the remains of her home.

“Kelsa!” Joren called after her.

“Vod’ika, go.” Dono said. As Joren ran down the ramp after Kelsa, Dono was right behind him.

As they entered the main chamber of Kelsa’s home, they found the first victim of the Kath’s rage: the housemaid Dresa. From the looks of things, her end had come quick, and for that Joren was grateful. The sight of the woman who had been like a mother to her dead on the floor sent had Kelsa into a panic. She began running from room to room calling for her father.

“Father!” She cried out in hysterics as she made her way blindly through the house. When she made her way into her father’s personal chambers, she cried out. Her cry was that of a wounded animal. Though Joren could feel her pain in the Force, he didn’t need the Force to tell him what had just happened. He stepped into the room behind Kelsa and embraced her with a half hug, and then began to pull her out of the room, and away from the corpse of her father, which was still smoldering from blaster fire.

Then Joren felt something else…they were not alone in the house.

“We’ve got to go.” Joren said as he pulled her fully out of the room.

Within moments, his intuition was confirmed. A group of Kaths emerged from a nearby room and immediately opened fire on Joren and Kelsa. Joren released his hold on Kelsa and reached for his blaster, returning fire as he urged Kelsa back toward the landing pad. They raced back toward the main chamber toward Dono, who had been investigating another nearby room when he heard the blaster fire. As Kelsa and Joren ran toward him, Dono began firing at the pursuing Kaths.

“Let’s go!” Joren yelled as he turned to return fire. To his surprise, it wasn’t just Kaths that were chasing them, but members of the Nar Shaddaa security force. Though he knew that NarSec was corrupt, he never would have dreamed in a million years that they would actually be working with the Kaths.

Joren, Dono, and Kelsa race back up to the landing pad to the Dreams, with the Kaths and their “friends” in hot pursuit. As Joren and Dono back up the ramp, firing at their pursuers, Joren taps into the Force, and sends several of the Kaths flying backward with a Force push. Though Kelsa didn’t see the maneuver, Dono looked sideways to his friend, not entirely sure if he had seen what he thought he saw, or if him mind was playing tricks on him. He just fired several more shots before yelling back to Nyna, who is going through the preflight checklist.

“No time! Get us out of here now!” Dono yelled as the ramp latched shut.

Nyna cursed to herself as she fired up the repulsor lifts, even as the Kaths and NarSec continued firing on the Dreams as she lifted off, making for the void of open space.

“You know, you really shouldn’t get so mad over the little things.” Rush says teasing as he steps up behind Kaylee. “Anger is the path to the dark side.”

“I’m not mad.” Kaylee says with a smile threatening to form on her face. “You’re just a bantha jockey.”
“That may be, but I’m the best bantha jockey in the galaxy.” Rush jokes. “But that’s not why I found you.” He finishes, his tone becoming more serious.

“What is it?” Kaylee asks, concern growing in her voice.

“Master Datch was looking for you. I think you have an assignment.” Rush said, excitement creeping into his voice. Ever since Rush and Kaylee arrived on Yavin IV together, Rush has had feelings for her. When she passed the trials and became the youngest Jedi Knight in the order, it was as if he had accomplished this feat with her. And now that she may have an assignment, he was equally excited for her, as this was to many, the final step of becoming a full fledged Jedi Knight.

“What?” Kaylee asks not able to hide the surprise in her voice.

“I overheard Master Datch talking to Master Skywalker. But we should head back, it might be urgent.” Rush tells her, and with that, she followed him back to the Temple.

Kaylee rushes back to the Temple eager to find her master. The prospect of her first mission excites her, perhaps more than she knows it should.

A Jedi seeks not adventure and excitement.

One of the first things Master Datch had told her when she was but a young Padawan crosses her mind, and as it does, she tries to suppress her excitement. She reaches the clearing in the trees that borders the Academy and sees her master standing just outside the main Temple. She sees that he is not alone, standing beside him is Master Aamaw, an Ithorian Jedi Master and one of the best lightsaber duelists in the galaxy. Again, she tries to suppress her excitement and approaches the masters.

“Master Datch, I understand you were looking for me?” She says, more as a question.

“Indeed I was.” Master Horn Datch says, nodding. “Kaylee, the council has recently been made aware of some…troubling reports out of Tatooine, and we think that you should go there to investigate.” Horn tells her.

“I understand Master.” Kaylee replies, then adds, “But what am I to investigate?”

“There has been a rash of mysterious deaths just outside of Mos Eisley. The cause of death is- unclear. So you are to go investigate what is causing the locals to die and report back to the council.” Horn explained.

“Yes Master.” Kaylee says bowing her head. “Will you be coming with me?”

“Unfortunately, I will not. I have some business on Coruscant that must be seen to. However, Rush is to accompany you to Tatooine to conduct your investigation.” Horn explained.

“Very well, Master.”

“You should gather some supplies and get to the landing pad to board your ship within the hour. Time is of the essence.” Horn instructs her.

“Yes Master, I won’t let you down.” Kaylee says with a smile.

“And Kaylee…”

“Yes Master?”

“May the Force be with you.”

For Joren Kel and the rest of the crew of the Dreams, it felt like they had been drifting in the void for ages. Although they had only been off of the Smuggler’s Moon for a few hours, it seemed much longer than that. Joren sat behind Kelsa on one of the lounge sofas which adorned the luxury ship with his arms around her as she just stared out of the transparisteel view port into the endlessness of space. It had been a long time since Joren had been off of the moon, and though he should feel liberated, he felt anything but. Instead, he found himself trying to console Kelsa; who, because of his actions had just lost everything. Her home, and the only family that she had left.

Guilt rocked Joren to his core. He kept questioning his actions of the last several days. He tried to think of anything that he could have done differently which could have avoided the consequences that he brought down on one of his closest friends. He knew that he could have played ball with Kenso, and that by doing so he might have saved the one person in the entire galaxy that he wanted to protect more than any other such pain.

Kelsa let out an involuntary shudder and began to sob again, and Joren squeezed her tightly, while at the same time using the Force to project a soothing influence over her. He had caused her so much pain, and he felt that it was his responsibility to do whatever he could to offer her some relief, even if it were only a temporary respite. As Joren did all he could to give Kelsa some comfort in the face of her loss, he could hear Dono and Nyna at the controls of the Dreams, debating their next move.

“My uncle has a farm just outside of Keldabe. We should go there for a little while, that way we can figure out our next move.” Dono told her.

“No, I’m not going to spend the foreseeable future shoveling poodoo. It’s not going to happen. Look, I have some family on Naboo, maybe we can go there and hide out for awhile.” Nyna countered.

“Not going to happen. There’s no way we’re going to Naboo.” Dono scolded.

“Why not?” Nyna asked, lightly offended.

“Gungans. The place is crawling with them. I can’t stand the things.” Dono offered.

As Dono and Nyna went through their nearly daily ritual of disagreeing over everything, Joren felt something. It was as if something was calling to him from the vastness of space, beckoning for him to heed its call. At first, he ignored it. However, with every moment that passed, the calling came louder and louder in his head, almost until he couldn’t resist it any further. He knew where they had to go. So finally he looked away from the window and to his friends at the controls and spoke up.

“Tatooine.” He said just loud enough for his friends to hear him.

“Vod’ika?” Dono asked, having not quite heard what Joren had said.

“Tatooine. We’re going to Tatooine.” He said, more of an order than a suggestion.

Dono and Nyna exchanged puzzled looks with one another, but neither of them raised any objections. Though Tatooine wouldn’t be the first choice that either would have made, it was just as good of a suggestion as was being offered, and they both knew that the Kaths would never look for them there. So after a moment of silent contemplation, Nyna entered the coordinates into the navicomputer, and then powered up the hyperdrive. Within moments, the stars became lines as the Dreams made the jump to hyperspace.

Orias stared at the Bounty Hunter as he began laughing, sending a Force Horror at him. Although the bounty hunter was trained to resist the force, nobody, bar those that utilized it, or those that utilized something like a Ysalamir would be able to completely resist. it would most likely feel like a cold drop of water had just ran down his spine. He then smiled in response to the question. "No more can be attained here. Our enemies here are all but wiped out and soon, the fleet will be here to crush those that continue their resistance. This battle is over. He may as well be of some use to his superiors." he said. He then stared at him. "Tell me, where did you learn your skills?" he asked. "I don't know many non force users that would take on a Jedi and their apprentice and win." He had heard the legends of the Followers of Palawa that excelled at taking down Jedi with nothing but their bare hands.

At that point, a protocol droid walked in with a tray of drinks "The Commander said you required refreshments." it said. It walked towards the bounty hunter "Would you care for some tea?" Orias took a cup of hot... Something... It was green. He took a sniff and exhaled. "You know, bounty hunter, I would ask, would you be interested in a little side job? Specifically, one that does not fall within the limits of working for the Empire?" he asked. Of course, he could speak freely of this, if he was caught out by this, then he could easily say that it was a test of the mans loyalty.

Jun'er walked out of the changing room, the gray imperial officer uniform didn't look good on him, and he knew it. "How dull, well, time to get the money, and report back to Sun, or... Nah, Sun's more of a father than I've ever had, I'll get this to him." Jun'er then realized how lost he was, Sun hadn't provided him with a map or anything, he'd better get walking. So he did, he walked up and down the ship, getting saluted, and having a few odd looks sent in his direction once he entered the maintenance tunnels, the green stuff was safe for contact with skin right?

Jun'er wandered and wandered, eventually finding "his" office. This Jun Ii guy may have shared part of Jun'er's name, but he was twice as boring, the room was gray, his desk was neatly organized, and he bet his bottom dollar that if mister Ii owned a pet, it would have been square. With nothing else better to do, Jun'er sat down in mister Ii's desk, rummaging through the neatly organized drawers netted him a hologram device, opening it revealed a static image, that of mister Ii, he assumed, the neatly dressed one with a comb-over certainly seemed right, with.... Jun'er... Wait a minute. Jun'er stood up immediately, shocked with what he had seen, it was impossible, how had he gotten a picture taken with this man he'd never met, and he'd had a beard at one point in his life? Jun'er covered his nose and mouth with his hands before breathing out deeply. Something was obviously amiss with this, there was a logical explanation... Somehow, he just had to think. Thinking however was difficult for Jun'er, as this man who looked near exactly like him was right in front of his face, hysterics ensued.

"Wait, why am I freaking out about this? I have a mission to attend to, this is just a coincidence. I'll just move on, onto the computer, and then get out of here." Jun'er turned on the computer and logged in, the password was inside the drawers, Jun'er couldn't read it, but he assumed it was the password judging by the key that was drawn next to it, this Jun Ii wasn't very smart. Jun'er clicked on the symbol that looked like a bag of money... Nope, that wasn't it. How about that red one, that looked like a person... nope again, Jun'er needed to learn how to read. The big blue dog looking thing turned out to be the financial browser, Jun'er inserted the micro-storage unit into the closest port, and watched as the numbers slowly became fewer, and fewer, and fewer. "Beauty, now I get out of here." Jun'er removed the storage device and prepared to leave the room, but as he was about to, he looked again at the holo-gram, he realized that he needed to keep this, just in case. Jun'er grabbed it, and shoved it into his back pocket. He walked to the door, kicked it open with perfect technique, just because, and then walked in the direction of his ship. Can't help but feel like that was too easy.