The message was received by a droid. Clearly Bell didn't think much about communications leaving them in the hands of the very same model of droid that had jumped them twice as as far as they were meant to. This was an easy job at least, and the droid turned to speak.

"There's a fleet out there saying they are the defense for Taris, and that they're the Grand Republic of Mandalore. They are demanding we deactivate all our defenses and respond with out intentions. If we are just passing through they'll just watch us and if we want to talk to them we should contact the fleet. If we don't contact them they will assume we are hostile."

At least the droid was capable of giving a summary rather than the entire message. Bell yawned... She hadn't slept for quite a while. Since long before the recent fleet battle, they had been preparing and so she sar about her throne in case she was needed, even though her apprentices did most of the work getting orders and plans out. "How long until the rest of the fleet gets here?"

"They'll be here soon. They were able to jump to hyperspace soon after they got out. Our destination was transmitted before the jump, so they knew where we were headed. They just hadn't paid much attention to the details, only looking to them when the flagship wasn't there...

The ship sat silently in space, not having to wait long. The other battleships were upgraded and the Prividence ships weren't so... Old. They had all been able to jump again shortly after coming out of hyperspace while Bell's ship was stuck waiting to cool down. Not to mention they ran the hyperspace drive for twice as long.

Suddenly, another Lucrehulk came out of Hyperspace, and then another, and one by one Providence carriers flashed in. It wasn't long before the lone battleship was accompanied by a sizable fleet. Of course, they didn't do anything. "I'm tired... Have the droid talk to them." Genovath nodded, making a hand gesture to the nearby strategic droid who moved up to the holographic communications. He then stepped up to the throne and lifted Bell into his arms, carrying her off to bed like a true child.

The droid activated the hologram, signaling the fleet's flagship with a message. "This is the Black Hand Flagship. We seem to have had a computing error and overshot our destination by twice the intended distance. The rest of the fleet has moved in in case of hostile threats." The droid, as it often did, took things jnto its own hands for the better. "We were seeking a location where we might land a mining rig and obtain resources. We have two stations, one acting as a shipyard and another as a factory. We would like to attempt to negotiate the use of a location within your territory to safely obtain the supplies we need."

The second of the inquisitir twins stood back, watching the droid work. He had no problem with it taking over, as it was designed for strategic thinking and would do far better than he would. He gave the order and the fleet kept their shields up, but their weapons powered down. Which technically made the shields stronger, though he didn't see an engagement here.

Meanwhile, an old man hobbles through the ship trying to find a way out. The hangar? No all of the fighters are droids, he couldn't pilot them. Escape pods then. He had to find them though... Darth Tybis was chrious, why exactly Bell had given him a chance. Why was she so sure that he wouldn't make it?

His five minutes were up... Now what? Nothing seemed to change. That is, until he rounded a corner, and saw a hooded figure in a black robe. He couldn't see the face, only glowing red eyes. A Sith of some sort? He figured so when a red blade extended, revealing the use of a lightsaber. Had she sent one of her apprentices after him?

He turned to try and make it back the other way, only to bump into another of the cloaked Sith.

A Dance with Aera Cura
Interlude

Taris System Defensive Command Post

"..Look, all I'm saying is that the absence of evidence is not the evidence of absence. Just because we don't know they are there doesn't mean that they aren't there." Eighty-Eight concluded the statement by gesturing towards the corner of the room, where both himself and the other clone had previously been standing before a bucket fell from the ceiling at seeming random. His platoon-mate, Sixty-Three was not impressed, however, a look of skepticism obvious on his face. "And I'm telling you, Eights, that regardless of-" his comment was cut short by the bucket being moved again, despite neither of them being close to it. Sharing a quick look, both of them smartly turned about and stepped out of the room, locking the door behind them. "How about we just agree that that was weird?"

"Invisible assholes." Eighty-eight muttered before nodding in agreement, and the two went about on their patrol. Command had apparently received word from "Faithless Remorse" on a fleet that had jumped nearby, and the commanders were on high-alert in case it was shenanigans by those imperials again. Regardless, the two clones went about their duty quickly and without further incident, though a run in with the gamorrean consultant from Hetty'c lead to more than a few harsh words exchanged between Sixty-Three and the porcine creature. Their patrol eventually lead them to the command centre, where Admiral Tarkev was reporting in via holonet, and was looking like he had just been told not to shoot at the inbound fleet. Such assumptions were made clear when their commander ordered Tarkev to immediately link command to the inbound fleet by slaving their comms to the command net.

Soon their commander was on live-feed with the Black Hand fleet, the holonet relaying his face and upper body to the new-comers. Dressed smartly in an immaculate cream-colored uniform, the commander was an imposing figure, for he was originally a front-line clone trooper, but had displayed the propensity towards leadership and strategic thinking at a grand scale, traits which had eventually lead to him being named Grand Admiral of the Tarisian League, no small feat for a vat-boy. "Greetings visitor." His tone was clipped and professional, come from his years of bellowing orders at clones and shouting commands from the pulpit of a Star Destroyer, "My name is Ceres Bannon, Grand Admiral of the Tarisian League Sector Defense Forces, and Legate of the Grand Republic of Mandalore, glory be to his name. We understand you to be a group calling yourselves the Black Hand, a group that we unfortunately know little of, but perhaps this will give us the opportunity to learn more about you, and we can come to a deal. For what it is worth, I have given clearance to your vessels to make way to Taris proper, where arrangements are being made for a delegation to negotiate possible alliances with your group and the Tarisian League. If it is deemed acceptable, we would also like to have a representative from the Jedi Enclaves present to further solidify negotiations."

Ceres clasped his hands behind his back, awaiting response from the Black Hand, and hoping that everything would go smoothly from here. Of course, eventualities were being arranged, with Taris' three ISD-I's and six Victory Star Destroyers being re-routed so as to provide a cordon for the incoming vessels and mask the hyperdrive signatures of inbound GRN task force "Resilient Sons". Resilient Sons were being brought in just in case the Black Hand turned hostile, their four Venator-I Type-2's and Type-1 being more than enough to level the playing field against the Lucrehulks that the Black Hand possessed when combined with the current fleet arrangement. He was also very deliberate in his contacting of the Enclaves, as what little information they did have of the Black Hand hinted at them being force-users, a trait that unsettled him, and he wanted some form of contingencies in place, in case things went south. All in all, things were being constructed in such a way as to allow either a peaceful discourse and the alliance between the GRM and another power, or the protection of civil assets through overwhelming force. This was what made Ceres Bannon a deadly force in the command of a fleet, and he intended to make damn sure things were peaceful here.

Black Hand Mothership - Destiny - Throne Room/Command Bridge

The droid stepped aside, and the image was replaced by Genovath. He too had a commanding stature, even as a hologram it could be seen that he was a massive man. His presence was only bolstered by the dark cloak that completely hid his body, and the strange mask that was modeled after the idea of a demon with glowing red eyes and blades pointed down towards his torso like a melted face. He was obviously no Jedi, and his voice when he spoke was deep and would feel like daggers to the lesser experienced soldiers. The admiral would likely feel the presence emanating from Genovath, but wouldn't be affected by it. At least not like the men around him were.

"Jedi are not known to welcome my kind with open arms Admiral. We will require assurance that out master will be safe at this meeting. We do not have hostile intentions, but we will not stand for any negative actions taken against her. Her safety must be absolute." It worried him a bit. He knew that Bell would likely hop on a ship with not a thought to the danger and head down to the meeting. But he didn't like the idea of Jedi attending the meeting. After all, they may not follow the Sith ways, but they still called themselves Sith. Then again, the care he showed for his master didn't fit the description of a Sith. Most Sith could care less for their master's safety. After all, killing their master's was a part of the Sith way.

He turned to the droid, assuming that if the GRM truly wanted peace that they wouldn't hesitate to promise Bell's safety, even if under the condition that she herself not cause any trouble, which he didn't figure she would. He ordered that a ship be ready, and told the droid to prepare a type B escort. That way the Admiral wouldn't know exactly what he had ordered to prepare, but it sounded natural nonetheless. "We will arrive with a small group of no more than seven. Myself and my brother will escort our master, along with four more guards. We only require that myself and my brother attend the meeting with our master. The guards may be left out."

Black Hand Mothership - Destiny - Inner Halls

Lord Tybis ran for his life from the 'things' that chased him. He grunted and panted as he ran, constantly looking over his shoulder. He had just narrowly escaped the confrontation with the two things in the hall, and he still wasn't sure what they were. He didn't know anything about them except that they seemed to be Sith, wielding red lightsabers and wearing those black cloaks.

He couldn't escape though. Around every turn another stood in his way. Either the same ones, or there were more than he feared. He quickly turned, running away again but wouldn't make it far before he encountered another and would be pushed back another direction. Finally he made the decision to make for the hangar. Maybe if he was lucky, he could get into some kind of transport and escape before the droids knew what was going on. They would give chase perhaps, but he had to take that chance.

Taking a service shaft he found the main doors to the starboard hangar, but he didn't see any transports. Only vulture droids and hyena droids patrolling the area. They turned to look at him, but did not attack. He waited, expecting the to fire, but they didn't. They just stared at him. He turned to the door to see those dark being moving down the hall towards him. He chose the droids over them, rushing out into the hangar. He kept running, passing ship after ship, but all were droids. All were watching him, like his trying to escape these 'Sith' was just a show.

He reached the end of the hangar, staring out into space and the opposite hangar. He turned back to see five of those Sith approaching him. He had no weapon, no way to defend himself. If only he could get a hold of one of their lightsabers... he prepared himself, getting into a stance ready to use his fists. He would have to strike hard, and quickly to avoid the lightsaber. As soon as one stepped into range he spun around, balling his hand into a fist and bringing the knuckles into contact with the side of the Sith's head. His goal was not achieved however, as he cried out in pain from his hand hitting something very, very hard. The cowl was knocked off of the being, and what turned back to face him horrified him. It was a type of droid... with glowing red eyes and a head like he had never seen before. It had no mouth, but still it made a noise as if it were growling at him.

It reached out and grabbed Darth Tybis by the throat, lifting him into the air before speaking. Its voice was deep, as deep as only a machine could be. It was cold too... devoid of feeling, of empathy, of anything that could make this machine a living creature. It said only a few words. "Know that what killed you, was more than man." It dropped Tybis down, before spinning in a quick circle, bringing the blade into a slash that removed the Lord's head, and then raised its 3 clawed foot to kick the lord out into space, where his body floated, now lacking life.

Black Hand Mothership - Destiny - Bell's Chambers

Bell slept soundly for the most part. She had a large bed befitting a Queen, and the room was dark with only a few lights. She breathed softly, but from time to time would shift in her sleep, quickly moving, or thrashing about for a short moment before calming down. Alkore stood guard outside, and from there he could feel the shifting in the force. Every time something happened in Bell's dream, whatever it was, he could feel the disturbance. Genovath could feel it as well, though not as strongly from the throne room.

Bell suddenly screamed, jolting upright in her bed as a wave of the force was sent out, shattering the glass of some of the things around her and rocking the bed roughly. Only a moment later the room settled down, and Alkore came rushing in to make sure everything was alright.

In the throne room, Genovath stopped speaking to the Admiral, turning around from the hologram as he felt the disturbance. A dark wave echoed in the force, rippling out from the ship, reaching not only the GRM fleet but likely the planet as well. It wasn't a powerful force that affected anything, it was just like a feeling, a cold feeling. Even those who were not sensitive to the force could feel it, but it was gone in an instant like it had never been there, and to all but Alkore and Genovath, it wasn't clear where it had come from.

A Dance With Aera Cura
Part the second

Eyes of a goddess,
I fall prison to.
A heart of a fool,
I've been cursed.

Taris - Spire Enclave, Solace's quarters

The scent of slow-burning candles mingled in the air with another smell, one which did not belong, yet with the intoxicating aroma of the tallow, it seemed right. They had been placed throughout the room at what seemed like random intervals at first, but the longer one looked at the erratic patterns, the more it seemed deliberate and precise. Channels of the force ran along the lines drawn between individual candles, the energy subtle and barely there, but when added together into the center of the diagram became a raging torrent center on one individual. She sat there, her robe cast open to bare her self to the one she summoned, both hands held to her side with her palms facing upwards. From her right hand she held a knife, the carved blade still sticky and wet with freshly let blood, her other hand cupping the blood which welled up from her opened palm. "I summon you..." her whisper was low and seductive, pouring her desire to see the being into her ritualized summoning.

Slowly, the blood cupped in her hand rose like a snake charmed from its hole, and began to coalesce before her. More drew itself from her palm and from the opened scars across her torso and upper arms, the wounds of years of dedication to this creature opening once more as she gave herself to the creature. Her lips parted in the mixing of pleasure and pain as the creature took what it needed from her and gave form to itself before her in the guise it once knew so long ago. The knife slipped from her hand as she crawled forward to kneel before the creature, touching her forehead to the ethereal boot of the force-ghost and drawing away to look up at the one she summoned.

Deep scarring ran across its form, the scars of countless wars and thousands of wounds marred its body, culminating in the face of one who had denied death and drawn power from the pain it inflicted on others and that which it suffered as well. "My lord..." her whisper was one of reverence for this being, this Lord of Pain, one who had rightly died so long ago that memory of his existence was forgotten by all but the most obscure of texts. His name was Sion, and this woman, this dark-jedi, was his, for she had given herself to him willingly and given him of herself a physical presence to interact with her as he saw fit. This time, he looked down upon her with the same disapproving glower he had given her when she first summoned him. Solace remained where she knelt as he reached down and took her by the throat, lifting her to stare directly into her face with his single eye. His grip was solid as he flexed his incorporeal muscles to slowly crush her windpipe, her body shaking as she began to struggle in the grip of the force-ghost she had given form.

As her robe fell to the floor, she was finally freed from the grip of Sion, her naked body collapsing as she tried to recover her breath from the assault. "What... Have... I done to displease you, my lord?" She struggled with the words, but fought against the pain, trying to appear strong and not the weak creature she was when she first summoned him. Sion took a step towards her, his ghostly foot crossing the threads of the force which ran between the candles and served to trap him within this room. Despite her loyalty to the dark lord, she was still wary of his power and could not risk him truly gaining a physical presence, knowing that it would ruin the Enclaves if he was to gain power again. "You." his voice was the crack of bone and the ripping of flesh, the spilling of blood and the opening of wounds. Only hate and insanity lurked behind the will of this creature, a sentience driven mad by eons of torment in the aethers of the force and bound to nothing but the whims of eternity. Solace felt a cold chill bore down her spine as he spoke, suddenly realizing that she was in very deep trouble as the dark lord was not merely displeased with her, no, it was furious. "You have failed to give me a form to stride this galaxy once more in. You have failed to do exactly as I have commanded you, and you still bend knee to a false-sith and hold pretentions that the bond of family is more valuable than what I have given you."

Her heart suddenly spasmed as she felt the grip of the dark lord's grasp upon her body, her own life-essence giving him the power to do as he pleased to her. Pain wracked her body as she struggled to endure the pain of her organs slowly failing in the grip of the creature, blood seeping from her mouth as she bent before him once more, trying to show that she was still loyal. As she did so, the pain lessened and slowly she was free of discomfort once more, the force knitting the damage dealt in the ravages of Sion's grip. "Your sister, she is beholden to your master." It was more a statement than a question, a statement that struck her more than the attack itself. "You will strike her down. Her body will be mine, and then I will strike down your master." Reaching down to grip Solace's face, he brought himself low and came barely a breath from her, "Then, I will show you my power in the body of your sister, and we will take what we please from whoever we please. This I give to you."

She felt the release of the dark lord as he turned from her and willed himself back into the aethers of the force, his time with her done, and his patience depleted. Solace lay in the bloodstained robes for several minutes before she brought herself back to her knees, tears running down her face even as she swore her loyalty to the dark creature, "Yes, my lord. It will be done..."

---

Taris - Spire Enclave, The Great Hall

It had been several hours since Ceres Bannon had been able to reach a compromise with the Black Hand, arranging a meeting between the leadership of the enigmatic group with the leadership of the Tarisian League and the Enclaves themselves. Standing at attention at the entrance to the Enclave from the space-port, Ceres and his honor guard awaited the envoy from the Black Hand, the Tarisian Alor standing beside him in a simple suit and tie, taking a more formal approach to the meeting rather than dressing in the full ceremonial garb his position as governor usually dictated. Then again, Sebastian Erazx was a very practically minded man who cared little for the vagaries of ceremony and much of the politics that came with it. It was not uncommon for him to simply leave a diplomatic proceeding that has taken too long, and on one occasion he was found to have executed a senator for taking too long to explain a new bill. Quick and to the point was his style, and he was as ruthless as he was concise, the countless bureaucrats and executives now homeless in the under-city could attest to that quite bitterly. Ceres quite like the man, and the man did have quite sense of style, his beard trimmed in a mimicry of Mandalorian tribal markings, and the Jaig eyes tattooed above his brow. Certainly a warrior-politician if there ever was such a thing.

Across from them was the delegation from the Enclaves, their gracious hosts, and likely the ones to keep some semblance of peace. Solace stood at attention, her grim look casting disdain on everything around her in her typical bitter and spiteful manner. He dearly wished that their master was here, for Solace was notoriously callous and ruthless, far more akin to the Sith of the outer reaches than her sister. If it wasn't for the importance of this meeting, he was sure that she wouldn't be beyond sending the whole party back to the city, with or without a shuttle. She was even dressed for battle, the intricate clasps and plates of the Jedi-Battle armor she wore polished to a sheen and a short-handled lightsaber clasped to her belt in a locked mechanism, to prevent another from pulling it free with the force. Requiem on the other hand, had freely trusted that this was to be a discussion between potential allies, taking it upon herself to dress in an evening gown that flowed down to her ankles. She was clearly unarmed, for anything of the sort would have no place to be clasped, and she had taken a great risk to dress as such. Regardless, her broad smile seemed to ease his fears, an aura of peacefulness exuding from her as she had no fear of what was to happen next. True to their heritage, both sisters wore bands across their eyes, so as not to expose the absence of eyes to their visitors.

The twins were also here for the disturbance in the force which had occurred the previous night, one which had unsettled many of the jedi within the Enclave, and made the twins very curious. It seemed as if it was indeed the case that their guests were force-sensitive, something that made the twins very keen to be present to meet them. With little else left, the parties waited for their guests, hoping that what was to come next could bring another ally to the GRM and at the very least form a partnership that both parties would celebrate for a years to come...

The shuttle came in slowly, hovering as it spun around before the legs extended and it touched down. The shuttle doors slid open, and a ramp extended down to the ground. First, four droids marched down two at a time, covered in those black robes with nothing but their glowing red eyes visible to the natural eye. They stepped to the sides as the two Inquisitors, large no matter their race as they walked down the ramp. The six scanned the area, looking for any signs of threats giving off the obvious vibe that they weren't in the habit of knowing any trustworthy people.

Finally, Bell peeked out the doors before walking down the ramp, and hiding somewhat behind her apprentices. She didn't hide in such a way as to avoid danger though. She seemed to hide from the eyes of the GRM. The group walked forward with the four cloaked figures making a square around their 'Sith' masters.

As they approached the GRM, it was Genovath who spoke. He and his brother stopped and bowed courteously, and even as they bowed Bell remained behind them. "We thank you for welcoming us here. Not but a few hours ago we found ourselves in a sector where a fleet came out of hyper space and fired first and asked questions later."

His brother added silently on the side "we never really got to the asking questions part."

Genovath looked at him for a moment before continuing. "This behind us is our Master, Darth Thorn." He looked behind him at the girl who was hiding like a child meeting family. "We, sort of just call her Bell. I hope you will forgive her behavior. She has hardly had any rest for quite a while."

Taris - Spire Enclave

As their guests descended the ramp of their vessel the assembled party awaiting them all stood to attention, taking a slight bow to show their respects to a visitor of their world. Taris' Alor stepped forward first, bowing again and smiling as he greeted the Black Hand. "We of the Grand Republic are pleased to welcome you to our world, and our friends of the Jedi are equally pleased to meet with you, for they have given their home to us for this meeting." At his words, Solace and Requiem stepped forward as well, Solace merely standing to attention, while her sister smiled and waved towards the guests. Continuing, he introduced the rest of the congregation of representatives with each of them nodding or bowing at mention of their name, "First are our hosts, the resplendent Knights of the Jedi Enclaves, Solace and Requiem, apprentices to the dark-jedi Shimmerene of the Cold Void. We also have joining us, Ceres Bannon, whom I'm sure you are already acquainted with. Finally there is myself, Sebastian Erazx, Alor of the Tarisian League, and Legate of the Grand Republic of Mandalore."

Concluding his introductions, the troopers at their sides were dismissed back to the corridor, giving the parties a more personal platform without as many armed persons to dissuade honest thoughts. Solace continued to glower at the droids, her disdain for them evident, though for a brief moment her eyes lingered on the larger of the brothers and her scowl slipping for a moment as she wondered what he looked like under that mask and robe. To the three of them, her aura would read clearly steeped in the dark-side, a pall of bloodshed and hate deep about her persona and the revenants of previous battles fought and won. She allowed them this freely, showing them her honest self, not bothering to hide what she was and what she would do if betrayed. Her sister was nearly the complete opposite, her aura a bright spot in the dismal wake of Solace, and seeming of genuine optimism. Only good intentions read from her, that she was meeting new people only added to her optimism. Both sisters would likely be far from what the Black Hand was expecting from a group calling themselves Jedi, one steeped in hate, and another far too open to dealing with those who call themselves Sith, yet she held a bright and shining soul deeply rooted in the light side.

Ceres was the one who spoke next, gesturing to the open doors of the hall with one hand while smiling towards the Black Hand, "Lords, if you would follow us into the Great Hall, we would welcome you more personally to Taris with food and drink. My Lady." He now looked to Darth Thorn herself as he spoke, "If you wish, we can have quarters arranged for you and your fellows here, should you be requiring of rest either before or after our discussions." To be truthful, they had already arranged for the rooms up in the higher levels of the Enclave, trying to prepare for any eventuality.

---

Mandalore - The Gardens of Mandalore

A hand brushed the gentle flower, the slight moonlight illuminating the hands of an older man who still had the precise touch of a warrior, fingers capable of crushing the flower touching the petals with the gentleness of a one who had never known the handle of a blade. He walked the gardens repeating this process to each flower he passed, feeling the gentle life upon each of them and letting them know his touch. This man was one who had not been born a warrior, but had been trained as one, and been needed as one. A man who had fought to preserve a way of life, and in the end failed. He was once merely a Jedi Knight, warrior to the Old Republic, and a guardian of peace and honour for the galaxy. With the fall of the Republic and the rise of the Empire, he had fled with so many others like him to the Mandalorians, seeking refuge among them. Time would see him grow wiser and take up leadership of those who had followed him, and eventually he would be named Grandmaster. He did not wish for it, but he accepted it, knowing that he was best fit for it.

"Grandmaster Kenobi..." The voice was cold and seemed distant, but it always did, for it was not truly a physical voice, but the telepathic communications of one who should have passed into the force a long time ago. He turned to bow before the cloaked form of his fellow jedi-master, the one who called herself Shimmerene of the Cold Void. "Master Shimmerene, you were not expected. What brings you to the gardens?" He smiled, and clasped her on the shoulder, braving the chill of her touch for a moment before releasing her shoulder. A nod from the dark-jedi and they set off down the paths of the gardens, walking under the terraces filled with climbing vines, the flowering buds of their nocturnal fruits shining in the moonlight.

"I came to discuss a growing threat." Her words were without emotion, but he could feel the slight urgency she wove into her messages with the force in order to falsely convey emotion. "The Dar'Manda are moving in the shadows, and the Paladin has received word that they are planning to strike a high-priority target, though we know not who they are trying to kill. My apprentice, Requiem has also been receiving visions of a terrible betrayal soon to befall us, one similar to Knightfall. She cannot be certain however, of who will strike, and who will fall. My efforts to parts the clouds of fate from her mind were in vain, something seems to have latched onto her mind, that even my powers cannot dispel."

Obi-Wan thought on these words, they were dire indeed, and well worth the journey from Taris. The vision of another Knightfall particularly worried him, as all of the Enclaves knew of the tragedy of that day, when most of their order was wiped out and the rest scattered to the stars. Surely another such event couldn't happen again? No, it would be foolish to doubt the portents of the force, especially such a dire one as this. He recalled how the Council was divided in such matters up until their betrayal, and how many of them had lost their lives during the fall of the Republic. "Send the word out." he said at last, taking mind to ensure that should anything happen, they would be ready this time. "Make sure our networks are secure, and every master and Knight is to do a full sweep of their personnel to ensure that we have not been compromised. Let us also start recalling operatives away on missions, but ensure they are safe and loyal to the code. The Jedi Order will not fall a second time, we have lost too much and recovered so little, if we must lose anything, let it be our holdings before our people. Glory to Mandalore, and may the Force be with you."

Taking a bow, Shimmerene went off to do as Obi-Wan asked, parting with only a return of "Glory to Mandalore and may the Force be with you." Now alone in the gardens once more, Obi-Wan looked to the lake's edge, staring into the calm waters to see the reflection of the moon and the stars beyond. He wondered if these portents were true, and what would befall their order should they be, wondering if perhaps one person could ever see the fates of so many souls. Yoda had been known to dabble in foresight, though he had infamously warned of attempting to delve too deeply into the future, for fear of seeing a fate that could not be changed. There was a shift in the force, he could feel it himself, a shift which surrounded the fates of the miralukan twins, their master, and a stranger he did not know of. He would have to meditate further on this, too much was uncertain. For now, all they could do was prepare for the worst.

Shadows of the Commonwealth

Darvis System, Commonwealth-GRM Contested Space

Jedi master Kara Kasra brought her attention to the matter at hand as her X-14 HiMAT exited hyperspace. A large ring attached to the snubfighter allowed it to travel in hyperspace which would otherwise have been impossible for it. Turning her head to the left, Kara saw two X-wings drop out of hyperspace and pull up alongside her; through the Force she felt a third do the same on the opposite side. In front of the four snubfighters was a large moon which they had used to hide their entrance into the system. It wouldn’t do for anyone hiding away on the planet to notice them, especially if they were after the same things as Kara was.

“Master Kasra, our sensors aren’t picking up any nearby ships. It looks like our entrance was undetected.” Said Illyana, a pilot of one of the X-wings.

“I don’t feel anyone watching us” The Jedi master agreed after extending her awareness with the Force. Kara didn’t know much about the Zeltron woman as this was the first time they had worked together. What she did know was that Illyana Starfire had been a pilot in the navy before transferring into the rangers.

“Perhaps we’re the first ones here then” Jalek Logan commented, not even trying to mask the nervousness he felt. The human slicer, despite his nervousness, had proven time and again that he wouldn’t let his fellow rangers or any Jedi down, even when under fire.

The last of the X-wing pilots refrained from speaking, though Kara could feel that he was paying attention to the conversation while attentively scanning the nearby area for any sign of sentient life. After a few moments Kara felt his attention sharply rise.

“Have you detected anything Ori?” She asked. There was a moment’s pause before the ranger responded.

“I’ve detected some communications. Whoever they are, they probably seem to bother encrypting it, so I think they’re pirates.” Ori responded in a clipped tone.

“Sithspawn!” Jalek spat. “And here I was hoping for an easy assignment for once!” Despite his outburst Kara couldn't sense any extra nervousness from him. Good, he was improving some.

“Any indication on those Sith artifacts we were sent after?” Illyana asked. There was a long pause before Ori responded in the negative.

“We’ll stay here for a bit and observe the situation before moving in. Any complaints?” Kara asked.

The time was almost near, the hyperdrives were nearly ready for the fleet to perform yet another mass jump for Tandun III. The Admiral, now fully rested, left his quarters for a trip to the Command Bridge, knowing full well of the battle to follow. As he strolled down the corridors, he was met with salute, after salute as he passed by innumerable numbers of officers, crewmen, and soldiers alike whom all ceased their current activities and duties to show the proper respect to the Admiral, many of the crew aboard the ship were the very same people who served under him years earlier during the Separatist Takeover, now those same crewmen, like the Admiral, are itching for a fight, and a chance for vengeance.

During his walk, he had come across his Executive Officer, a young Korphiri woman, Dacri Kalos was her name, and their Droid Assistant Backu, a Super Variant of the aging T-Series droids, courtesy of their allies in Arlos Industries. "Admiral!" She called, the two soon flanked the admiral as they processed to the Bridge together. "Just our luck, we came to report to you personally, the fleet is now ready for another hyperspace jump, however..." She was then cut off by Backu.

"Our Probe scouts had reach they're destination" he droned on. "However hey were lost in the immediate landing."

"The Seps?"

"Correct, sir." Dacri said. From what little footage we received, enemy space is insignificant, only a few ships hold orbit."

"Excellent! and what of the surface?"

"Unknown." Backu replied. "Probe 3-A was lost within moments."

"It doesn't matter." He said with great confidence in his tone. He now is fully aware that the separatists stationed too few ships, not enough to repeal an invasion force of this scale. All was going well for him, once Tandun falls under Dominion control, the Hydian Way will open for attack. "As long as we hold orbit, they're good as dead."

Stolen Imperial Venator-Class Ship, renamed Reborn Justice
Orbit above Coruscant

Groups of Clones stalked the hallways guarding the engine control room of Reborn Justice. Squads One through Three were charged with patrolling the corridors leading to the room, Squad Four had taken a defensive position outside the Engine room, and Squad Five had hidden within the room and were the last defense if everything went to shit. There had been a recent boarding, and the enemies were on the ship for one thing; to cripple it. Of course, they couldn't be allowed to sabotage the Venator, and so the Clones used a strategy they had learned from the short time they had spent among the Imperial Fleet. The enemies were a group of rebels trying to take over the ship and use it to sneak behind enemy lines.
As Squad Two turned a corner, a stun grenade rolled into the group formation and detonated. As the Clones from Squad Two fell, one of the soldiers' blasters fired, alerting the other squads that someone was attempting to breach the engine room. Rebel teams were currently stalking along behind One and Three, and as soon as the squads had turned down side corridors, the rebels ran straight for the engine room. As one of the rebel hackers began slicing into the system to open the door, the rest of the soldiers took defensive positions and waited for the Clones to get to them. The door opened before Squads One and Three got around to it, and one of the rebel teams rushed into the room. Before they got 2 feet in, they were mowed down by Squad Four, who had taken cover behind various crates. The other group of rebels, who had been tasked with guarding the door, now took positions just outside of the room and began firing at Squad Four. Before half of the men in Four dropped, Squads One and Three came up behind the rebels and finished them off.

Security Room of Stolen Imperial Venator-Class Ship, renamed Reborn Justice
[i]Orbit over former Jedi Temple, Coruscant

Colonel Jagar Barn and General Lewis watched the rebels progress via the security cameras. As Squad Two fell, Lewis slightly shifted his feet while standing at parade rest, while Barn gave a slight smirk. "It seems your soldiers, though bred for war, can not beat a man that is fighting for his freedom," Barn announced. Lewis simply shrugged. "There are still Clones left, mind that you don't forget about them." Barn waved Lewis' comment away. As the rebel teams got to the engine room doors and began hacking, Barn let out a chuckle. Lewis cracked a rare smile, and as Barn saw it, he gave a hearty laugh. "What is it you enjoy? That your men are ill suited to defend the ship?" Lewis simply shook his head and nodded towards the view screens.
As the doors opened and rebels poured into the room, Squad Four peeked out from behind their crates and filled every square inch of doorway with blaster projectiles. Soldiers fell over one another, and it wasn't long before all men were down. Barn stared at the view screens with a look of complete and utter shock on his face and Lewis gave the Colonel a pat on the back. As the last remaining rebels began trying to pick off Squad Four, the remaining patrol squads came up behind the soldiers and took them down. Barn sat down, his hands shaking slightly from the shock of his best men getting cornered and taken down so easily.
walked over to the Colonel and sat down next to him. "You see Jagar," Lewis began, "This is how the Empire operates. Your men's tactics may work well against some common militia, but if they try to fight the remnants of the Imperial Army in this state, they will not last five minutes." On the view screens, clones began helping up the fallen rebel troops, who were part of the Coruscant Loyalty Fighters. Colonel Barn leaned forward and rested his head in his hands. "If you're telling the truth," Barn whispered, "Then we have no chance. All hope is lost. We can't possibly win against an army of that." He waved an arm at the screens, where Clones and Loyalty Fighters were now headed back to the hanger bay and talking to each other. Lewis shook his head. "That's not true Colonel. Your men have something even the best Clones don't. [i]Motivation[/]. They know what it's like to live under a tyrant, and they'll do anything to stop it. My Clones, they were part of the army. Sure, they didn't like it, but they had a different perspective then your men."
Lewis stood and walked to the door that would lead to the elevator. He wanted to talk to the men before they went back to Coruscant and dealt with all the politics of the surrounding planets under the New Galactic Republic's control. Barn got up and walked with the General, and as they headed for the elevator, Barn took a deep breath. "General, I know it's probably too late to ask, but would you mind helping my troops train? I don't want my men to die. If there's the slightest chance that something can be done to save them, I'll accept it." Lewis laughed. Of course we can help. Wouldn't make us great allies if we didn't help, now would it?" He clapped the Colonel on the back. "Don't worry, we'll help you. No matter what it takes, we will make your men ready to fight the Empire." As they waited for the elevator, Barn looked to Lewis. "General? Is it true what they're saying about the droid armies being reactivated? I've heard rumors, but only rumors." The General closed his eyes. "It's not a rumor, and they aren't being reactivated. They're already attacking."

A Long Time Ago, in a Galaxy Far, Far Away...
The Inner Rim
Givin Domain
Yag'Dhul System
Aboard the Excoriate, a Charnel class Medical Station

The planet Yag'Dhul, home to the mathematically gifted Givin, had been an important world in the Clone Wars on the side of the Confederacy, and had experienced several fleet and ground battles which resulted in the destruction of most of its infrastructure. Its populace had been wartorn, and given Yag'Dhul's inhospitable climate that only made a bad situation worse. Thankfully, Astranoma, a non-profit charity organization, had come to the system with sufficient resources to begin providing aid to the Givin people.

Astranoma had come to the system with one Charnel class Medical Station, equipped to treat 80,000 patients every day, and six Wellspring class medical carriers which could each comfortably host an additional 5000 patients. Credits had started pouring into the local economy, funding the construction of local MedCenters and Refugee shelters where Givin could find food, rest, and care. The Givin, being a naturally industrious people, had helped greatly in accelerating the establishment of these places by helping to plan and draft their construction, and clerks hired from the populace proved to be almost as efficient as droids in their book-keeping. On a per-capita basis, Astrnoma was helping more people for fewer credits in the Yag'Dhul system than almost anywhere else in the Galaxy.

Not to say that the road had been without its bumps. The Givin were naturally some of the smartest sentient beings in the Galaxy, and their reknown as shipbuilders was great. Spending so much time around the Astranoma vessels gave the Givin plenty of time to examine them in detail, finding strange peculiarities in the process. The Excoriate, by way of example, was some 1212 meters in diameter, nearly twice the length of the Haven class medical stations it had been designed as a variant of. Yet strangely, the massive station could only treat 80,000 patients at once, which was the same number that could be treated in a Haven station. By performing elementary (for a Givin) volumetric calculations, it also became apparent that on a basis of volume, less than 30% of the Charnel class station's space actually held patients. Innocent questioning as to this discrepancy returned the answer that most of the space in the station was used for administration, Bacta manufacturing, various vivarium and life-support module storage, and of course extensive life support functions. However, many Givin being ship-builders and being familiar with the dimensions involved for such areas within ships, could perform additional calculations to determine how much volume they might have taken up in a Haven class station and compared the figures. All in all, more than 50% of the Station was apparently used for nothing whatsoever.

The Givin who went 'exploring' to investigate the discrepancy had to be dealt with. Of course, aboard a Medical Station, people died all the time - as unfortunate and undesirable as that was. The same unfortunate deaths were rare but not unknown occurrences aboard the Wellspring carriers for more or less the same reason.

Within the communications hub of the Station, a droid stood atop a holo-platform. Its construction was sleek and skeletal, its eyes glowing with an intelligence that would have shamed the native Givins. Across from it stood the hologram of two more droids. To the left was J9-12B, Astranoma's leading diplomatic spokesperson and envoy, familiar in form to the popular 21B medical droid series, albeit trimmer and with a greater range of motion, along with a spinning ring of modular medical tools suspended at its waist. To the right was CK-24, one of Astranoma's chief administrator droids. They had been designed as an improved variant of a very old, infamous droid series from the era of the Old Republic, thousands of years ago. Very few people today would have been able to identify the protocol droid's ancestry, save perhaps certain droid technicians working for the modern-day Czerka corporation in the Grand Republic of Mandalore.

"Statement: Research Project Firaxis has concluded successfully." CK-24 said is an even voice. Its vocabulator was perfectly capable of delivering variable intonation, but order to maneuver around the more intricate subtleties of verbal insinuation, each utterance was prefixed with a descriptive noun. "I have pre-approved mass production, and cargo-units are being assembled as we speak. Conservative estimates project that some nine thousand tons will be ready for immediate shipping within the next 120 hours. Addendum: The latest sensitive count in the foster division of our refugee shelters along the inner rim has risen to 741 even after withdrawals. This unexpected windfall ensures that our gift horse shall have convincingly healthy teeth."

J9-12B spoke next, its own vocabulator producing a monotonous if steady and soothing voice. "I have obtained sufficient information from our external assets to have finished formulating another potential target dossier. The ability of our agents to infiltrate Ziost has been limited, and our information there equally so. From what information they have been able to extract, taken in consideration with information derived from the Letona files, I have determined that it is unlikely the rumors of the True Sith having returned are substantiated. Emperor Palpatine was unable to refine what little evidence his servitors retrieved from the second expedition, but it is unlikely that any Sith, true or otherwise, upon the planet number more than 12. Even the most pessimistic of projections estimate that these upstarts, whomever they are, will either interbreed with local populations or will die out naturally, lacking sufficient numbers to sustain genetic stability across generations."

"If what you say is true, then the heretics upon Ziost may be left to die according to their own desires unless they should attempt to revive the Sith Order apart from their own number." The skeletal droid uttered in a voice like hissing steam and burning forests. "Now that the status of Ziost has been assessed, we will proceed with the purge as planned. CK-24, you will rendezvous with the station positioned at Umbara and begin the staging phase of Operation: False Positive. Discretion is unimportant; as long as the trail does not ultimately lead back to us, you may dispense with the heretics however you wish."

"Exultation: My processors are overwhelmed with the innumerable ways in which I imagine I may splatter their visceral fluids across the ground. It will be done, and it will be messy."

"J9-12B, you will take two standard relief group and two Medical stations to the Grand Repulic of Mandalore, along the outskirts of their territory. Extend a formal greeting to their officials and gain admission to their territory. There you will execute Operation: Prune the Garden. You will bring with you the first fruits of Project Firaxis, and work with the Mandalorian government to disseminate it along the outer and inner rims. Utmost discretion to avoid suspicion is to be employed, hence your generous allotment of vessels."

"May I extend of an offer of foster exchanges to their own administration? It would help to deflect suspicion greatly."

"You may. The unexpected surge along our inner rim shelters will suffice for such a scheme." The droid paused for a moment, almost as if in thought, before responding again. "Only use the weakest along the second meridian. No need to sow prize crop where we shall salt. Send me the dossier on Ziost before you depart. Our next scheduled communique will occur in 864 hours. That is all."

Turning errantly, the skeletal droid stepped off the holo-platform and dismissed the holograms of the other two droids. It marched mechanically through the austere durasteel corridors, stopping at and taking a lift down four levels to factory control. As it emerged from the lift, a battledroid saluted it. "Sir. Assemblies four through seven, and nine through eleven are online. What are your orders?"

"Begin assembly of 25 Constellation Battle Droids and 144 Blackout Assassination Droids. Apply frame modification CZ/FK to their chassis and download file 127.A/3ZP.48 into each. Make sure they are packaged for shipment to the Kashyyyk relief group. Their shipment is priority one."

Kashyyyk, in terms of either Operation: False Positive or Operation: Prune the Garden was utterly irrelevant except perhaps as another dead-end layer of insulation against discovery. Apart from that, the Wookiee homeworld also happened to be where a critical member of the latter scheme was currently whiling away their time...

888888888888

Kashyyyk

"...so it won't quite approach the same level of sensitivity as the original limb, but I think you will find the extra lifting power to be favorable." DE-6A said in an amiable sort of voice as it floated next to a Wookiee, lying in an extra-large sized hospital bed while growling in frustration as it tried to move its new prosthetic arm. The neural interface had merged with her body without complication, but the only way she would ever be able to use the new appendage to the same degree as her natural one was if she worked with the neural pathways daily and allow the prosthetic to adapt to her muscle memory. In a surge of effort and with a deep yowl, she managed to force the limb to flail wildly off to the side, where it swept out to crash headlong into the floating surgical droid...had it not been caught deftly by the second wookiee standing just off to DE-6A's side. He barked at the unruly patient, telling her to settle down and not to hurt anybody.

"Yes, curb that enthusiasm slightly for when you've had enough bedrest to walk again!" DE-6A said. "I'll have one of my assistants provide you with a holo on adapting to a new prosthetic and bring you a few toys..."

The bed-laden wookiee looked at the droid apprehensively.

"Tools." DE-6A corrected. "Tools to help speed your recovery as well. Soon you'll have just as much control over the new limb as you had over the original."

"Excuse me sir," an FX-assistant droid said as it rolled up to the bedside. "We've just received a dispatch from the station to be delivered to you immediately. The message says that is is time for you to prune the garden."

"Prune the Garden? Already? Cancel all my appointments for the next sixteen months then, I need to scramble out on the next transport!"

The male wookiee let out a series of yowls and rough howls.

"What do you mean you're coming with me? You don't know what you're getting into!" DE-6A said in a despairing tone. "And it will be dangerous besides! Very dangerous! There will be soldiers and battle droids and Jedi to spare, you don't want anything to do with that mess!"

The wookiee simply folded its arms in response, looking down at DE-6A from above with a mundane expression worn by those who have already made up their minds.

"Oh, fine! Don't say I didn't warn you though!" The surgical droid wailed before turning and hovering towards the exit. "And you, yeah you!" It gestured at the bed-laden wookiee with one of its tool-arms. "Make sure to drink plenty of fluids!"

888888888888

Jaxus System

Two Wellspring class Medical Carriers emerged from hyperspace a healthy distance away from the gravitational interdiction range of the planet Jaxus, for which the system was named. Not wanting to make any of local vessels nervous, both immediately activated their transponder signals. AN7-12B waited patiently for some form of traffic authority to contact the leading vessel, content to remain firmly in place until then. The Ishkar Syndicate may have been a collection of thugs, but they were organized thugs, and the medical droid was determined to present as much of a non-threatening posture as possible to start things off.

Jaxus System, Ishkar Territory

Upon emerging from hyperspace, the two Wellspring-class Medical Carriers were tracked down by the sensors of the battlestation, Karnassus. At first, the crew assigned on the sensors couldn't believe it, thinking that it might be just a malfunction on the sensory system, but no, the ships were not classified, nor tagged with any Ishkar insignia, they were clearly not affiliated with the Ishkar. Immediately, the response done by the station was to send its patrolling cruisers to the intruder's location to scramble their communication signals, then prevent it from moving further from their current location. During that time, the station contacted the Exodus, which was only a system away from the current location, to respond to the intruders. Within a few minutes, the Medical Carriers were surrounded by 4 Tartan-class Patrol cruisers, and 6 Rihkxyrk-class Assault Fighter squadrons. The cruisers and fighters were ready to open fire, but under Mercurius' orders, they were to be left alone, until his arrival.

Not for long, a massive Subjugator-class Heavy Cruiser jumped out of hyperspace, accompanied by 2 Aggressor-class Star Destroyers, with the Ishkar's insignia painted on its bridge. It was the Exodus, the flagship of the syndicate that jumped out of hyperspace, Mercurius has finally arrived. The flagship then transmitted a message to the Medical Carriers partially blockaded by the small patrol force.

Exodus said Mercurius, the leader of the Ishkar, wishes to meet the person responsible for leading these ships into our territory. You are clear to dock one of your shuttles into the largest ship infront of you, the personnel you are sending must be unarmed. If you do not wish to comply with our terms, we will be forced to mow your ships down.

The Outer Rim
The Hydian Way
Ojoster Sector
Taris System
Planet Taris

Taris, while not nearly the bustling center of trade a planet like the core world of Coruscant, was still one the largest comercial and population centers within the Outer Rim, where the GRM Navy routinely hosted fleet exercises and the Jedi had established one of their largest existing enclaves. Being located almost directly on top of the Hydian hyperspace lane, it would almost have been impolite to drop in on the Republic of Mandalore without first checking in at Taris. Which is precisely what Astranoma did.

Emerging a comfortable distance away from effective interdiction zone created by Taris' gravity well, the Astranoma group consisting of no less than twelve Wellspring Medical carriers, 8 Pelta medical frigates, and almost unbelievably, two massive Charnel Medical Space Stations apparently equipped for faster than light travel appeared. Each vessel activated their transponder signals, broadcasting their affiliation openly and with the leading station, named Ream, designated as the group's leading vessel. Realizing that the apparent arrival of such a large group of vessels - and space structures - might have caught local space traffic control off guard, they all remained in place, awaiting contact from some form of traffic authority to contact them, not wanting to startle anybody any further.

Aboard the Ream, J9-12B looked placidly at a view-screen showing a blown-up image of the planet and others points of interest. While it watched, it reviewed the files it had available on the Republic of Mandalore, particularly its population demographics and statistics.

"Hm." J9 mused as it settled on one particular figure. "Now that is a shame. So many people are going to die."

888888888888

Expansion Region
Ghost Nebula
Umbara System
Planet Umbara

Meanwhile, Astranoma already had something of a head start in Zeltros Commonwealth. They already had a relief group positioned in orbit around the planet Umbara, and CK-24 had already arrived aboard Duress, the Charnel class Medical Station positioned with the rest of the Astranoma relief group over the planet. It had arrived along with three Pelta Medical frigates, which were going to be needed before Operation: False Positive was over.

"Recitation: This Operation must be swift, decisive, and chaotic. As a secondary objective, we must leave behind evidence that supports Operation: Prune the Garden in the Republic of Mandalore." CK-27 was speaking to a figure wearing what appeared to be sleek and sinister armor. They stood perfectly still, and an observant onlooker would have realized that the figure wasn't breathing.

"Similarly, your final attack will assume as close a resemblance to those planned for in Operation: Prune the Garden as possible, in order to establish a sense of precedence. Timing however, is crucial. Anticipation: By the time news of your assault reaches the Republic, the first stage of Operation: Prune the Garden will already be completed. This will give the targets there no time to react to the inevitable mistake they will have made by that time, leaving them vulnerable to our chosen manner of assault." CK-27 turned to leer at the armored figure.

"Assurance: Of course, our objectives are much...looser than those of the counterpart Operation. We are only required to eliminate a minimum threshold of 50% of our targets. In this way, even if your attack fails, the operation will be considered a success as long as that benchmark is reached. Which it will be...And I should sincerely hope that we should reach at least the 90% casualty mark, otherwise I will be immensely displeased. Our enemy is soft, unsuspecting, and most certainly not prepared for the likes of you. Explanation: In order to prepare for your assault, I will first infiltrate the enemy base and ensure your targets are concentrated there, in order to maximize casualties. I will also sabotage select systems and instruments, and remove the more troublesome individuals there so that the inevitable battle will be in your favor. When I return, I will provide you with a number of network commands that will enable you to selectively activate battlefield assets as needed."

"Query: The only thing left for me to ask of you, before I depart...Is whether you are willing to die, when the torpedoes detonate, for the sake of the operation and of killing the heretics in a blaze of flesh-rending plasma?"

The armored figure did not hesitate, responding immediately in an oddly reverberating tone.

"Affirmative."

Mere hours later, a message was sent from Duress to Umbara space traffic control.

"Umbara traffic control, this is Medical Station Duress. In three days time, one of our Medical Carriers, the Jejune, will have to make a hauling run through Ambria and Ithull in order to pick up supply shipments that will be delivered there by midshippers. By that time, we will need to clear the Jejune of all patients not in extensive care who can afford to be moved, so expect some shuttle traffic down to the surface between now and then. If you could also call ahead to space traffic control for Ambria and Ithull and let them know that we are coming and where our cargo is being held in advanced, that would be appreciated. We are sending you the pertinent details now along with our updated itinerary. Please respond and affirm the updated schedule.."

888888888888

Exodus said Mercurius, the leader of the Ishkar, wishes to meet the person responsible for leading these ships into our territory. You are clear to dock one of your shuttles into the largest ship infront of you, the personnel you are sending must be unarmed. If you do not wish to comply with our terms, we will be forced to mow your ships down.

"Acknowledged, Exodus. One transport shuttle is being prepped for departure. ETA is three minutes."

The time passed quickly, the transport shuttle dropping out from its small umbilical and quickly heading for the Exodus.

"Exodus, transport shuttle is within docking range. You are clear to tractor."

"Acknowledged, tractoring your shuttle now, stand by."

The tractor beam locked into the shuttle and pulled it towards the dock, where Mercurius was waiting, along with four of his bodyguards. The shuttle door opened, and out unceremoniously ambled what appeared to be a medical droid.

"Greetings. I am AN7-12B, administrative droid and diplomatic envoy for the Astranoma charity group. If it is no trouble, I would very much like to be directed to your chief executive, as I have business to discuss with them in regards to the dealings of one Ishkar Syndicate."

"So you're the one that led these ships into my domain.." Mercurius spoke, his tone showed a slight hint of disappointment, as in his mind, he expected the person to trespass the Ishkar's territory was at least a living being.

"Actually it was the pilot droid who led those ships into this domain. I am merely a passenger." AN7 replied. "May I inquire as to who you are?"

"You're speaking to the leader of the Ishkar, you piece of scrap! show some respect or you'll end up a mashed piece of g--" The bodyguard's snide interruption was cut short when Mercurius raised his right hand. Immediately the bodyguard went silent, knowing that any futher actions would result him being executed.

"I'm Mercurius, the leader of the Ishkar Syndicate, what is this dealing of which you speak, droid?" Mercurius replies to the droid, after being interrupted by one of his guards. In his mind, he assumes that the droid's intentions was just of a simple matter, not really worth of bringing into a formal location.

The medical droid looked between Mercurius and the guard who had spoken briefly, as if processing the words. "So you are the chief executive of Ishkar Syndicate? Fortuitous. I had imagined we might speak in your office or at least somewhere more suitable than a hangar bay, but I shall accomodate." The droid's eyes flickered briefly as it pulled up a store of information from its memory banks. "The Ishkar Syndicate is one of the largest and most successful smuggling organizations in the known galaxy, controlling much of the illegal mercantile throughfare across the core and colony worlds. I imagine that you are likely familiar with the Zaltin and Xucphra medical corporations, which previously constituted the Bacta Cartel and held a duopoly on the production and distribution of bacta?"

"I see you've done your homework droid, I'm impressed." Mercurius says to the droid as he hear the information the droid collected about their organization. "You're right, we are familiar with the Bacta Cartel, they've been operating for quite a while. We've contracted them for our bacta supplies. What is it to you if we know about them?" Mercurius says to the droid before taking a step backwards, seeing that dock crew brought him a chair to sit on.

"With the collapse of the empire, the Bacta Cartel technically no longer exists, and there is no longer any standing law on record as acknowledged by any official authorities as to their duopoly on Bacta. Of course, as Zaltin and Xucphra control Thyferra, their duopoly is still in effect as a matter of market bottlenecking. However, as of nearly 22 standard years ago, the Astranoma charity group managed to illegally procure the recipe for the production of Bacta, and managed to smuggle the necessary indigenous sources for ingredients in its creation off of Thyferra. We have been spending much of our time establishing the industrial framework necessary to produce Bacta on the same scale as the Cartel, and only within the past eight years have we begun dissemenating our own Bacta. As a Charity organization, we are not driven by profit, and so we distribute Bacta of the highest potency feasible to all who are in need of it. Unfortunately, the Zaltin and Xucphra corporations take exception with this practice, and have been trying to prosecute and harass Astranoma for some time." AN7 paused in its segue, looking expectantly at Mercurius as if waiting to see what he thought.

"Illegally..I like the sound of that." Mercurius speaks as he repeats the word in his head, having a certain ring to him everytime he imagines the droid saying it. "So let me get this straight, the reason why your ships are on my territory, is because your organization wants protection from the Zaltin and Xucphra, am I correct?" Mercurius says, assuming that the purpose of the droid's visit is to ask help from the Ishkar.

"I am afraid not. Astranoma is capable of looking out for itself. However, while we have been able to so far mitigate the damage Xaltin and Xuphra have inflicted, their activities along legal circuits have proven more difficult to handle. The Bacta Cartel is no longer valid, but since they still control the Bacta supply, they can dictate the terms of any legislation regarding its sale. Especially in poverty-stricken systems that were hit hardest in the war. Astranoma finds their greed and obstructionist policies to be...detrimental to our own vision for the Galaxy. We want free, potent bacta to be available for all - or, if not free, at least at much lesser expense than it can be obtained from the Cartel. Which is why I am here. By flooding the market - especially the black market - with our own Bacta, the Bacta Cartel's own reserves are devalued, and their sway on galactic legislation becomes less efficacious. Our end goal is to drive Zaltin and Xucphra into such heavy financial pressure that the duopoly is permanently broken, and their stranglehold on Thyferra lifted. To that effect, the two carriers I arrived with currently have within their cargo holds some 8000 metric tons of high-potency Bacta. As an officiated envoy of Astranoma, it pleases me to offer all 8000 tons to the Ishkar Syndicate as a gift in good faith."

"Can you confirm that?" says Mercurius to one of his bodyguards. "Yes sir, our previous scans on their ships shows that they are indeed carrying 8000 tons of bacta."

For a while, Mercurius kept silent, his hands were holding tightly on to the armrest while he thinks everything through. It seemed to him that proposal is too good to be true, which is why he remained hesitant about accepting it, and just played along as if he still doesn't know their real agenda. "Let me simplify this, you want the Ishkar, to introduce these high-potency bacta of yours into the black market, without anything in exchange? just like that?" Mercurius says to the droid, still hesitant on why would such an organization give them for free, when they could profit from it.

"Yes! That is precisely what we are asking of you. Your grasp of the situation is entirely accurate!" AN7 said with a tone of exultation, lifting and raising its arms excitedly.

"If we are to intoduce these bacta to the black market, I'm assuming you'd want a piece of the action too. I mean, I'm sure even for such an organization, it would be a loss if you'd just let us, smuggle them for free, without you getting any profit of sort." He replies to the droid, trying to see if there's a catch to what the droid offers to the Ishkar.

"Well we wouldn't say no to any 'cut' you offered us, though you are under no obligation to offer Astranoma a cut of your profits. We have already accounted for the expenditure we will endure in supplying you with Bacta. If you agree to help us in this way, I can immediately authorize the shipment of an additional 8000 tons every three days for the next four weeks." AN7 said blandly. "Entirely as gifts. We do not expect anything in return."

Mercurius wafts his hand towards AN7 before speaking. "Nonsense, the Ishkar wishes that your organization recieve a portion of the profit from this, its a rare situation for us to be approached with such a business proposal, therefore a portion from the earnings will be given to you as a sign, of the good will of the Ishkar." Mercurius stands from his seat and walks towards the droid. "The Ishkar accepts this proposal of yours, you can expect that the bactas be introduced into the black market, as soon as tommorow." Mercurius says to the droid assuringly.

"Wonderful! I am glad we managed to come to an agreement. Now, onto something of a lesser matter that my superiors felt you might be interested in..." AN7's diodes flickered again as it retrieved another set of files from its data cores.

"Are you familiar with the Grand Republic of Mandalore in the outer rim?" It asked inquisitively.

"Of course, we have some dealings with them in the past, why do you inquire?" Mercurius says to the droid, interested to what the machine has to say.

"Astranoma is also dealing with the Republic is much the same manner as here - attempting to flood the market from both ends of the Galaxy, as it were. However, we are also working much more closely with them since they are - and I mean no offense - a somewhat more legitimately recognized power with more political authority."

"None taken droid, proceed with what you saying." Mercurius says, as he too knows that the GRM had more authority that what the Ishkar had.

"Astranoma, as a charity relief group, has been working to establish MedCenters and relief shelters from the inner to the mid rim, in order to help alleviate the effects of the war. The Republic of Mandalore is the most stable political body in the outer rim, and so as we expand there we would like to try and enlist their aid in quickening the recovery of the galaxy. For such a purpose, good relations are necessary, and so Astranoma has been pursuing a number of interests to the republic to encourage amicable exchange. As a way of example, in all of our refugee shelters we routinely identify any children who happen to be force sensitive. As an extension of goodwill to the Republic, as well as the reemergent Jedi enclaves there, we intend to offer them a foster exchange agreement in order to help give some of those children a new home within the Jedi order. As a, if you will, side gift, Astranoma has also obtained a modest collection of Holocrons to present to the Jedi council. The Ishkar Syndicate, being one of the largest smuggling organizations in the Galaxy, would be statistically certain to have a few Holocrons within its circuit. I have been authorized by my superiors to make you substantive offers for any Holocrons you might be willing to part with, to be eventually presented to the Republic of Mandalore."

"Your information banks doesn't fail you AN7, the Ishkar does have a couple of..Holocrons, in its stores. An artifact such as those however, would cost the Astranoma a fortune, even with what you have presented to us, it still wouldn't be enough as a payment. But seeing that the Astranoma plans to use these Holocrons as a sign of good will to the Grand Republic of Mandalore, a discount can take place, provided you give us the assurance that these will arrive at the hands of the Republic of Mandalore." Mercurius says to the droid, as he begins to recognize the droid by its presented identity.

"Certainly. I have instructions to relay any Holocrons I might purchase here directly to the outer rim as quickly as feasible. As a matter of security, I am only technically permitted to hand over any such Holocrons to a member of the Jedi order ranked as a Master, and we shall take great pains to ensure they are not tampered with before then." AN7 replied almost eagerly.

"Well then, seeing that you're transparent with this matter, I'll entrust the Holocrons to you, we will send the Astranoma the costs of the Holocrons later on, but you can already take them to the Outer Rim. As a sign of assurance, I must insist that one of our agents escorts you to your destination."

"Of course, a more than reasonable precaution. We shall do everything in our power to accommodate your agent along the way. Is there anywhere in particular you would like us to return them, and if you don't mind my asking, how many Holocrons is the Ishkar Syndicate comfortable in parting with?"

"Our agent can handle himself once he is certain that you've arrived at your destination unharmed. The Ishkar will provide you with two Holocrons, one of Sith origin, while the other one, of Jedi. A pleasant combination of Holocrons, to balance the Jedi Enclaves' needs." Says Mercurius as he order one of his bodyguards to call Nerevar, one of his sons, to bring the artifacts.

"Very considerate of you. We shall, of course, make sure to inform the Republic of who helped to procure the Holocrons. You have done the entire Galaxy a great service twice over, Master Mercurius." AN7 said amiably, beaming at the crime lord.

"That's kind of you to say AN7, but I guess this is just my attempt to balance out for the vile things I did against the Galaxy." Mercurius chuckles to himself, as he knows he'd done a lot of things that contributed to the state of the Galaxy now. "Ah, here he is, the agent that I'll be sending." A figure wearing a hooded cloak walks towards the two conversing by the shuttle of the Astranoma. He was seen to be heavily armed, wearing weapons that are deemed illegal by most systems. The figure was also carrying a small ornate box, which contains the Holocrons the droid bought. "Its here father, the Holocrons you've requested." Nerevar opens the box, and reveals the two Holocrons inside. One in a shape of a pyramid, was glowing red, while the other one, in a shape of cube, was glowing in blue.

"May I take a picture of them, to verify the transaction?" AN7 requested, eyeing Nerevar with a posture resembling one of unease. The intimidating agent had clearly affected the droid with his appearance alone.

"You may, as I guess you'd want your executives to know if the Ishkar really did provide you with these." Mercurius replies, before telling his son to ease up. Nerevar stands there idly, just holding the box, letting the droid have his way by taking the pictures.

"Yes, just stand still for a moment..." The droid said, shuffling slightly in place and craning back its head on its neck. Its eyes flashed, capturing the image of Nerevar standing tall with the open case and its glowing contents.

"There. Now, I believe that concludes our transactions for the present moment. The carriers will unload their cargo to your own haulers, and you can expect the next pair to arrive tomorrow along with an itinerary for the next several deliveries. If ever you need to contact Astranoma, here is the contact information for our higher-level executives. No need to bother with their secretaries, either - these will get you the men in charge directly, as it were." AN7 produced a holo-pad from its surgical belt, extending it to Mercurius. "Of course, pease use discretion when passing those around. They aren't for regular use by the public."

"I'll take note of that, extend my regards to your superiors, tell them, that the Ishkar can assure them that their plans for the bacta will soon come into fruition, and that they have our support, if they ever need it." Mercurius tells AN7 as he reach for the holo-pad. "I guess thats all, it was a pleasure having this transaction with Astranoma." He says before bowing lightly, a sign of courtesy in the old Gen'Dai society.

"Yours and mine both, Master Mercurius! Er, I'd bow, but my motivators don't really allow for that sort of motion. I'd fall over. Very awkward." AN7 said apologetically. "I hope you will settle for my saying that I am honored by your generousness towards our cause. If that is all, farewell - I hope both of these transactions prove profitable to you eventually." He then ambled back to the shuttle door and waited for Nerevar to join him, eying the agent nervously.

"I'll follow your ship out of the system, I have my own, if that is alright with you..droid." Nerevar says to AN7 while his ship is being lowered down by a platform beside them.

"Hmm. I suppose that might be fine..." AN7 said hesitantly. "But my superiors would like to see the Holocrons with their own eyes and take a few additional pictures in all liklihood. I dare say I don't want to inconvenience you, but for the first leg of the journey you should probably accompany us onboard. Our own hangar bay has enough room for your craft, and once we've reached our first refueling point, you can follow after us from there out. Do you find that agreeable?"

"If that is what your superiors want you to do, then I'll just dock my craft on your hangar bay, and..join you.. inside the ship." He says to AN7 as he walk up the ramp towards him, still holding the ornate box.

"Wonderful, and my sincere apologies for the inconvenience. We will try to accommodate you however you wish, so if you need anything at all, don't hesitate to ask!" The medical droid said, still with a hint of nervousness as he began to amble up the shuttle ramp. "My, you really are quite intimidating with that armor! I suppose you must be prime cut!"

Nerevar just dimisses the droid's comment to him as he walk up. He speaks to the droid as he pass him by. "Just make sure you wouldn't make the mistake of double crossing us, the Ishkar doesn't take betrayal lightly." He says, reminiding the droid that there are those that doesn't trust the Astranoma's intentions. "My craft will be delivered to your ship, so I guess its best if we leave now, wouldn't want to keep my father's men waiting."

"Right, of course." AN7 said in agreement as the shuttle hatch closed. The pilot droid seated at the shuttle's helm wordlessly complied with the suggestion and began preparations for takeoff.

Twi'lek Aren't Even That Attractive Anyway - Episode I

"We are not. Invading. Christophis."

Zothustro's cane impacted the ground at each period, attempting to emphasize his point.

"Oh, come on."

"I mean it, Dellso." Zothustro he raised his voice, Geonosian clicks and whistles echoing through the spacious war-room. His face tendrils (characteristic of elderly Geonosians) quivered with fury. Pol Dellso was a relative to the better known Gizor Dellso, albeit Pol was more apt a politician than an engineer like his brother. Both brothers seemed to share ridiculous ambitions nonetheless.

"It's the single most densely populated planet in our little niche of space. We can take it. The Retail Caucus is having a lot of problems, I hear."

The Retail Caucus was the primary governing authority on Christophis. It had formed early on in the Clone Wars, consisting of a decent amount of retailers operating out of the planet. They had held a sizable droid army before the Republic pulverized them. By the end of the war, they were dissolved, but had since come back. Nowhere near as influential off-system as they had been before, but they held considerable sway over Christophis. Sway that was presently being challenged by a variety of movements on the planet. Thirty-eight billion people were bound to have a great deal of different ideologies thrown into the mix. Now they were about ready to duke it out while the Caucus tried to keep order.

Taking the system when tensions boiled over would be easy. That wasn't Zothustro's chief concern.

"It's not a question of just taking the planet, you imbecile. It's a question of holding it. Do you have any idea how many assets we would have to divert? A logistical nightmare. Besides, I'm not convinced those scoundrels on Ryloth don't have it in for us."

Dellso waved a hand dismissively. "I assure you, your grace, the Twi'lek have no designs against us. They wouldn't dare. Their paltry desert kingdom is no match for our machines."

"Do you listen to the utter nonsense you spout half the time? We know they sent a delegation to Hypori. They'll be in bed with each other before long."

As one could reasonably expect, governments focused on maintaining a trade surplus and a powerful economy were bound to run afoul of each other in their pursuit of trade. Galactic economics were a dreadful affair. Taking a manufacturing juggernaut like Hypori and forcing it into competition with the economic powerhouse that was the Archduchy of Geonosis could only result in a trade war. No shots were fired, but relations between the two were chilly at best. It was only a matter of time before one of the powers opened fire first. Zothustro had intended to simply let the trade war continue until Geonosis emerged victorious. He was having second thoughts now that they were potentially looking to partner with Ryloth.

Ryloth's negative disposition to the Geonosian Archduchy was of the historic variety. Zothustro had the deceased Wat Tambor to thank for causing that, after the Skakoan had raped the planet of innumerable treasures in an effort to satiate his own greed. Pol Dellso didn't see what the big deal was. He thought it was funny. Since the Twi'lek had erroneously decided to blame the Archduchy for past crimes it had nothing to do with, Pol privately fantasized about pillaging the planet of treasures just as Tambor had done. Only this time it would be done correctly- and without a Republic to meddle in the process.

From the sound of it, he would have to settle, though.

"So we'll sack Hypori, then?" Pol ventured, a bloodthirsty glint more than evident in his eyes.

"Don't be ludicrous. They're too well entrenched."

"Then what?"

"Hypori's trade partners aren't as well defended. We'll start with them."

"Oh, please," Pol begged with a renewed sense of hope. "Can we sack Ryloth first?"

"They're the weakest of the bunch. At least, they will be once their delegation finalizes the details."

"Is that a yes?"

Zothustro clicked impatiently. "Go start mustering our forces."

Pol bowed to his liege before extending his wings and fluttering off. Dreams really do come true.

Tandun III had its small separatist fleet formed up and ready to face there imperial foes. In an instant the imperials where right in front of them guns on both sides opened fire instantly. They were completely outmatched by the imperials. Parat knowing this had ordered his ships to fly into the imperial formation and get as close as possible. His main tactics where trying to limit incoming fire hoping the imperials wouldn't fire if their own vessels may get caught in the cross fire.

As Parat's fleet tried closing in on the enemy one of his destroyers was cut in half by enemy fire, explosions where occurring along its entire length. Escape pods where trying to launch but most where destroyed in the explosions or hit part of the wreak. In mere seconds the ship was in the atmosphere burning bright completely engulfed in an orange glow.

He however managed to get the rest of his fleet in close with minimal damage. The fighters and bombers were making strafing runs on the enemy hangers trying not to let the imperials gain fighter or bomber support. If they could keep them in the hangers then a least they would have superiority with there small ships. However he was ensure if he had enough to keep the enemies small ships grounded. Parat had sent his two remaining destroyers to attack one of the nebulon frigates while he in his flag ship attacked another. His plan was to take advantage of the weak midsection which if penetrated would kill most the crew. Then he would order some boarding teams to take it over and turn it on the enemy. The corvette was to keep its speed up and try and disrupt the enemy fleet movements. He knew if he could execute his plan of capturing the nebulon frigates succeeded his chance pf victory may go from nigh impossible to slim.

As his ship closed on the target he beckoned to one droids "droid find out how the enemy fleet commander is and get me everything you can on him" he knew to beat any enemy successfully one must first know him. "Roger roger sir" the droid replied in its usually lacklustre manner.

Meanwhile on the surface below they where trying to round up any survivors or prisoners that landed. Every man in the base was fully armed and armoured up even the base staff who hadn't shot a blaster since basic training. Corridors where being booby trapped and barricades deployed. This would be were the separatists would make their final stand if it came to it.

The Dominion ships were pounding the defending CIS vessels as they had encircled the small fleet, it seems the battle had already been decided upon their arrival, the Admiral watched with sheer glee as his forces continued to hit the confederates hard. However, they would not go down without hurting the Dominion forces back, CIS fighters and bombers, in the chaos, were strafing the hanger bay of his ship and the others, keeping his fighters grounded for the time being, some attempted to break their attack, but failed as their ships lit up ablaze by passing by confederate fighters. He continued to observe the battle going about, but noticed some of the separatist vessels broke formation, most likely fleeing. "Heh, no where to run, damned fools." He whispered to himself, but then was alerted to as what they had planned. The three ships advanced towards a pair of Nebulon-B frigates. He looked to his XO, her expression saying "your call, sir" in that brief moment, he decided that, he wouldn't make a move, the separatists were on the verge of defeat, all he had to be concerned with was taking the planet below and the crews would be a worthy sacrifice if it meant victory.

---

The two frigates, the Iron Will, and the Justicar, stuck close as the CIS ships were closing in, pounding their shields, attempting to escape. From the bridge of the Justicar, the Captain was glued to his seat, his body tensed up as they going further from the fleet. "Launch all the TIE fighters!" he ordered, "Contact the Iron Will! We're going for a frontal assault."

As the frigates begun to make turning maneuvers to face them head on, dozens of Tie fighters launched out from the racks of the frigates, charging head on in a suicidal run. The fighters picked off one by tone by the defenses of the enemy warships. "Sir! they won't stop!" cried one of the officers as they continued straight for them. "Sith's blood they're insane! pull off the attack!" One of the frigates begun to turn once more to flee, but it was to late. One of the destroyers was seconds away from colliding. "Incom-" one of the crewmen was about to shout before they were hit, as the ship shook violently from the impact. The captain, barely conscious, saw the Iron Will drifting as they are, catching a brief glimpse of confederate boarding craft.

A Dance With Aera Cura
Part the third

Wayland, undisclosed GRM facility

Eighteen men and women of various species and nationality sat around the semicircular table, a nineteenth chair bereft of its occupant at the apex of the curve and a glowing display before them. Characters from a long dead language scrolled past at a leisurely pace, occasional pictures bisecting the columns of text to illustrate a specific concept or to serve as a diagram for whatever the text was alluding to. This was the life's work of a select few of these individuals, their eyes aglow with the knowledge of what each intricate marking meant, and what the diagrams were of. Others were more recent additions, the text meaningless gibberish to them, but the project as a whole a most interesting prospect. With the nineteenth person joining them, the display died down and the lights undimmed to more fully show each member of the meeting. "For years, we have toiled," spoke Ekzrans Hollins, the head director of the secretive group seated at the leading edge of the table, "And despite some of our more interesting products, this will be the one to cast them all into shadow."

A murmur of assenting voices chorused around the room in agreement, all within the group knowing of the importance of this project to the greater scientific community. "Today marks the long awaited activation of our project, and the first of the trial runs." A slight tremble began to rock the meeting room as the floor opened up to reveal a mineshaft that delved deep into the facility and into the labs where their experiment awaited them. The whine of actuators and the hiss of hydraulics echoed from the shaft, increasing in volume until it was a cacophony of machinery and the table which held their hopes was now before them.

Atop the metal slab was a droid, similar in appearance to many of the current market's protocol droids, but eerily sinister in the way it's proportions were designed. Widened optical sensors made it seem far more predator like, and the curvature of its head lended to that appearance as well. Few of its joints were truly exposed, with plates covering the softer areas, and what wasn't covered by the plating looked to be wrapped in armour-weave fabric. The more one looked over the droid, the more it seemed to be a battle-droid masquerading as a protocol droid, even reaching into the realms of an assassin-droid. If one was to assume as such, they would be all too correct, for that was exactly what this droid was designed to be, and its predecessor was perhaps one of the greatest of its kind. Designated the Hunter-Killer Droid mark 133, this droid combined nearly three-thousand years of improvements on droid manufacture, as well as countless ancient secrets into its design, making it a terrifying machine on paper.

"As you can see," began lead designer Elric of the Czerka corporation, "The frame of the droid is of a Phrik-Durasteel alloy, making it resistant to blaster fire, and hardened against lightsabers as well. Designs from ancient Rakatan documents have allowed us to fashion a generator within its carapace that allows it to draw upon the force to power it, and also to a limited degree resist force-attacks. Because of its ability to draw on the force for power, the enhanced optical sensors allow it to use a form of Force-Sight in addition to the standard infrared, ultraviolet, and night vision optional viewing modes. Hidden within the vambraces of both arms are retracting vibro-blades that can extend to up to two feet in length, giving the machine a deadly back-up weapon in case its normal armaments are disabled..." Here he left off and allowed another to pick up his place in the debriefing of the machine.

This time a woman spoke up, one of the pair of Echani who were still not quite known about in the group. In truth, no one even knew their names, all they knew is that the pair were accomplished Echani Weapon Masters, and that they were not cheap to keep around. "Nothing has been left out in terms of combat programming, from the most basic of blaster courses, all the way to the martial arts of the long dead Massassi warriors. Myself and my partner saw to it that the droid was programmed with over three-thousand physical combat forms, and would be able to effectively utilize most infantry ranged weapons. Of course," She gave a nod to an elderly man on the opposite end of the table, dressed in the robes of a Jedi Consular, "It was our friends in the Enclaves who provided several dozen holocrons on weapon skills from both Jedi and Sith of varying eras, and with that I can confidently say this droid be able to hold its own against an accomplished Jedi weapon master or Sith Lord."

The table went silent as all eighteen of the members looked to the nineteenth figure, the singular t-shaped slit in their visor staring directly ahead at the droid. "Activate it." commanded the man, the one who was called the Paladin...

---

Taris Sector Authority

"Sirs, we've received reports of an incoming fleet, a large one at that." a flurry of activity suddenly engulfed the command center as each crewman went to their stations and the commandant took the reports and gave his own overview of them. Seemed that Astranoma had decided to pay them a visit, though for what reason he was unsure, but it would be soon enough revealed as the fleet translated in system and broadcast their intent. "Fleet to battle stations." his order was bellowed with due authority, and translated to each of the attendant vessels of the Tarisian League Sector defense fleet gathered in Taris' orbit. As the frigates and medical stations of Astranoma moved into position to await a response from Taris Sector Authority, the three ISDs and six Victory SDs moved to intercept and effectively block their path to Taris. Behind them, the four Venator Type 1s of the patrol fleet sat in a fire-support position, their angles of fire marked on the tactical display and overlapping with that of the defensive fleets.

"Helm to me." he commanded, and a crewman swung the command-chair about to allow the commandant to take up the helm. Clearing his throat for a moment before he activated the hailing device, he brought up a link between the command center and the lead Astranoma vessel, directly addressing their commanding vessel. "This is commandant Fifteen-Zero-Three of the Tarisian League Sector Authority Command, you are in violation of our neutrality clause regarding the Hydian Way bypass, and are hereby asked to immediately turn about and return to the Hydian Way to leave GRM space. As a reminder to your living commanders, article fifteen of the Mandalorian Neutrality Clause directly states that all major hyperspace lanes leading through space occupied by the Grand Republic of Mandalore will be kept open and protected by GRM forces for so long as non-GRM traffic remains inside the hyperspace lanes, and that any traffic disengaging from the lanes inside GRM space of a sufficient size must register their fleet with the GRM and gain permission to arrive by appointment. Failure to abide by these clauses will result in GRM forces being free to do as they wish with said vessels that have chosen not to abide by the Neutrality Clause. Since we are a fair and honorable people, we are allowing your vessels exactly fifteen minutes to register their hyperdrive's navi-computers with the Hydian Way and begin jump sequence to a location outside GRM space."

Taking a moment's pause for effect, his face darkened a moment before continuing. "Failure to do so will result in your vessels being fired upon. You have been warned."

GRM Space, Taris System
Birth of the Black Hand of Mandalore

The Black Hand met with the GRM for a general discussion. During the meeting the Black Hand was offered a moon orbiting Taris. They would be granted the rights to the planet and its resources as well as the defense of the system fleets, and all that was asked of them was they fight alongside the GRM in times of need.. The Black Hand rejected the offer however, believing that the offer was not fair for both parties. Genovath, apprentice to Darth Thorn, leader of the Black Hand, made a counter offer as he was placed in charge for Thorn's absence.

The Black Hand offered their future ships to join the GRM defensive and patrol fleets to bolster their strength. They also offered 20% of the resources gathered from the moon to be given to the GRM as payment for their use of the moon. This offer was quickly accepted by the GRM, and as the treaty was signed the Black Hand became officially known as the Black Hand of Mandalore, considering themselves a free and independent branch of the GRM itself. They continue to be their own separate group, but they now consider the GRM their brothers and sisters, and will act as a part of the Mandalore nation themselves.

Shortly after the meeting, Genovath gave the fleet the command to move into an orbit around the moon to find a suitable location for their first colony. The shipyard and droid factory owned by the Black Hand jumped in from an undisclosed safe zone, and moved with the fleet as well. With the offer made by the GRM came the construction of the first reactors to power the facilities the Black Hand would be using, including but not limited to the landing of their droid factory to convert it from a station to a surface construct.

The three organic members of the GRM are to stay on Taris for a short while until the moon has a good amount of groundwork and it is considered suitable for them to move in.

Aboard the destroyer Deffending Light her captain a Rodian named Jannal smiled with glee as he saw his ship buried into the side of the enemy frigate. The imperial crew flying out into space smashing against the hull of his ship. He turned to his first officer with his devilish grin "Marda remind me when this is done to send someone out to clean the hull". "Yes sir" see snapped before pausing and saying "sir are you sure it was such a good idea to ram the imperial ship"? "Yes it was we have saved ourselves a lot of time and as you know time in a battle situation is precious now get a space suit on and take command of your new ship" he sneered. "Yes sir" the young girl said as she saluted and left the bridge.

Meanwhile outside the boarding ships where flying into the frigate. The destroyers where moving onto the next frigate in the enemy formation with the same plan in mind. Meanwhile the Parat's flagship was going toe to toe with another frigate. At this rate he was beginning to think maybe they could win.

Meanwhile far off by the imperial capital ships was Parat's only corvette that was making attack runs on the enemies engines and bridges. Unfortunately the ship was outclassed and with the amount of enemy fire they where finding it difficult to dodge it all and they where taking significant damage.

---

Elsewhere in the galaxy in orbit around the planet Toprawa there was a fleet amassing. This fleet was made of any ship that could be mustered to fight the imperials. The fleets job when assembled was to push the imperials out of Tandum before they could entrench and set up a beachhead. So far they had only managed to get some destroys, corvettes and escorts that had been pulled off of convoy duty. Even the fleets commander hadn't arrived yet. It was a dire state of affairs as ships from the eastern side of the confederation were being sent to either this attack fleet or to reinforce the defence line against the imperials.

The constant harassment by the separatist had begin to irritate the Admiral something fierce. Managing to surprisingly damage the engines of one of the Acclamators. "Focus all our guns on that vermin once it makes another round." And as the ship came for another attack run, the Star Destroyer's batteries unloaded upon the small vessel. In this very moment, the Admiral took the initiative. "We have them on a stranglehold, now's our chance, begin the ground assault!"

With his commands, all but one of the Acclamators had begun their descent down to the planet's surface. And as they reached the correct range, begun a mass bombardment of the surface, clearing away the forests and jungles to create the flatlands needed for the landing site.