As the sun rose over the ancient temple that now served as the site of the new Jedi Praxeum, Luke Skywalker sat at the edge of the forest near a small rock outcropping which overlooked the temple grounds. He sat with his legs crossed over one another and his eyes closed. As he meditated, he focused on his breathing, long breaths in and out as he felt the Force flow through and around him. As he reached out with the Force, he could sense the 3 large rocks rotating around him, as well as the half a dozen smaller ones. Luke then extended himself further, into the forest, where he could feel the different life forms that resided there.

He could feel the whisper birds in silent flight as they hunted. He could feel the battle for survival that played out between the anglers, lizard crabs, and armored eels. He could even feel leviathan grubs as they burrowed beneath the ground. Then Luke extended himself even further into the forest, and he felt Rhoda, the new Ithorian student that Han had run across while he had been accompanying Leia on a diplomatic mission to Coronet City. He could feel three of his students as they engaged in some playful banter. Horn Datch, who had been one of the first students at the Praxeum, Kaylee Starsmore, who had been paired with Horn as a sort of unofficial Padawan, and Rush Diel, who had arrived at the same time as Kaylee, which had created a special bond between the two.

Luke had been proud of the progress that his students had made, yet he still found the task of rebuilding the Jedi Order a daunting one. Though he knew that it would take time to achieve his goals, he still felt deep down that he should have more to show for his efforts. He pushed those feelings aside, and as he did so he felt something else, a familiar presence.

“Master.” Luke said without opening his eyes, a smile crossed his face as he pulled himself back into the moment.

“Mmmm. Done well have you, young Skywalker.”

Luke opened his eyes and turned to address the specter of his former master, the smile remaining on his face. “Perhaps.” Luke said, doubt filling his voice. “I don't know. Sometimes I feel like I've made much progress since the last time you saw me. But sometimes I feel like I should be doing more.”

Yoda's head bobbed dismissively as his apprentice spoke.

“Always see you do I. Yes, yes. Much progress have you made. A Jedi Master, are you now. Yoda looked into Luke's eyes, and his voice lowered slightly. “But much doubt I feel in you. And fear...”

“It's just that this is a huge task, and I don't know that I can do it alone.” Luke began.

“Hmmm. Fear that fail will you. Another Vader, will you create.” Yoda said. “Much to overcome have you. Clouded the future may be, but Skywalker, alone...you are not.” Yoda planted his cane in the dirt as he finished speaking and faded from view, leaving Luke alone again on the outcropping.

As he got to his feet, he heard the laughter of the three students he had sensed earlier, and he realized that as usual, Yoda had been right:

He wasn't alone.

Trask Vothoni // Aboard the Relentless Endeavour // Grizmallt

Trask stood in the comm room aboard the Relentless Endeavour, starting at a holomap of the Utrost system. A small cosmopolitan world near Coruscant, there was no easy route to Coruscant directly from Utrost, especially with all interdiction technology used by the so-called ‘Grand Imperium’ however launching a full-scale assault on the capital wasn’t the intention. The 67th Defense Force, now being re-organized into a more offensive role, would push on Utrost to test the retaliation from the Core. Operatives on Coruscant reported that ‘Imperial Lord Ozell’ had no intention in open conflict with the New Republic, the longer the conflict in the Core dragged on the more the Senate would talk about leaving the Grand Imperium alone.

Afterall the Rebellion started beyond the Mid-rim, many of the Senators who had fought and suffered through the darkest years of the Rebellion didn’t care what happened in the core, others saw Coruscant as the seat of power, so long as it was held by the enemy it would prove a potential threat against the New Republic and everything it stood to represent. As such plans were put into motion, as fleets were rallied and moved around as necessary to facilitate an invasion on this scale, the 67th would lay siege to Utrost. Weakening defenses on other worlds that the New Republic had its eyes on, should Trask prove successful in his task and manage to hold Utrost then it would be their staging ground for an assault on Coruscant.

Trask looked around the room to those gathered: Commander Run Drol his Commander of the Air Group, Captain Lena Raidne his Second in Command, Chief Engineer Thorn and Marine Sergeant Dobbs and Colonel Tali Ruk. Each would have their part to play in the coming conflict. While Trask was responsible for the fleet Lena would command the Relentless Endeavour in ensuring it was it stuck to the plan, as CAG aboard the Flagship Run would be responsible for ensuring the various air wings throughout the fleet knew their positions, Thorns job was self-explanatory. Dobbs would ensure no boarding parties could destroy the Relentless Endeavour from within and Tali Ruk would lead the ground assault.

That was after Trask told them the actual plan going forward. He cleared his throat and tapped several keys on the holomap, representations of the fleet appeared. “At 1500HRS Local time the 67th will enter the Utrost system and push in to engage the Imperial Fleet in orbit above the Eastern Hemisphere, meanwhile our transports under the protection of half our air wing will enter the Western Hemisphere. Using a series of micro jumps around the system, the planet's moons will help hide this assault from sensors until the ships are in the atmosphere. At this point, air assets will provide cover for the ground as well as fulfilling any fire support requests.” The map adjusted as it followed the path of the makeshift invasion around to below the Imperial fleet. “Whatever assets are available will push up behind the Imperial Fleet, engaging their unguarded flank. Any questions?”

Everyone around the room shook their heads. “Very well then. Captain Raidne, if you’ll stay behind. Everyone else, go brief your respective departments.” Trask watched as the doors opened and everyone filed out, Drol and Thorn paired up, no doubt discussing possible ways of increasing squadron effectiveness, while Dobbs and Ruk likely headed out considering what armament they would be using. Once they were out of the room Trask turned directly to Raidne, the two of them had seen a lot of combat together and had grown close over the years. He nodded at her and smiled. “This will be our toughest skirmish yet Lena, you ready for it?”

She merely returned the smile and nodded. “Yes, Sir.”

“Good, then shall we address everyone else then?” He turned to the holotable and keyed in the sequence to communicate with the rest of the fleet. The various forms of Captains and Commanders appearing before him. “Alright everyone, this is the deal…”

Corellia, the great shipyards...

Where in all the galaxy could you find a place like this? So much production and resources, and so much crime. The planet was more factory than any place to live, but if you wanted to work here, you needed to live here, and if you didn't work AND you lived here, then you did crime here. There was very little between, apart from the infrastructure to support the lives of so many engineers, software programmers, mechanics, scrappers, labor forces, and so on. You still needed suppliers for tools, food, living accommodations, maintenance for all these things, clean-up crews, etc. The list goes on, and this is the surface to maybe down to perhaps...the sewer levels. But...Corellia, like any planet with huge technological works built upon it, has layers. Your basements have sub-basements that were themselves simply basements, and below them maintenance areas and mining facilities for the abundant resources of the planet.

Somewhere, amidst all of these places, beyond the criminal hideouts and squatter holes, in forgotten stretches of ductwork and cut-off abandoned rooms...lies Singe. Wherever Singe goes, this is where she inevitably ends up, an obscure and hard-to-reach location that not even maintenance droids can find. And if they do, she will reprogram them to think and report otherwise, that there is nothing here, that nobody is there at the bottom of the world or in the walls or somewhere nestled between floors. It is the way she lives, and has done for a few years now. As a silvery-haired woman - a Sephi - it becomes easy for her to be a target for people who have less-than-savory plans for her. They were not thea threat. In her work as a Slicer, there could be any number of people who could want to put her out of business for good, owing to the losses incurred by her actions. They were not the threat. In her circles, plenty of violence could erupt at a moment's notice, leaving many dead in their wake from over-zealous actions. Even this was not the threat.

The Empire was the threat. Always the threat. Always...

All those other things, she accepted the responsibility for the dangers, lived her life on that understandable edge. There was never a problem in her life, living that way. The Imperials, though... They were a whole 'nother story, and Singe...she thought big. She thought of making life harder for them in underground ways. And for a while, it worked, but...they bit back, and it hurt...alot. They changed the game, and now she was here, like this, or on other planets in similar positions. She would never again let that happen, and she would make them pay. All of them pay, every last Imperial piece of shit. They must pay. There was nothing else, except these acts. And so, even from isolation, she would set about the tasks of others to break the Empire with her data manipulations and meticulous plans, paying for every step she herself could not take with their own money.

And with every deed done, she would laugh, she would cry, she would drink, and she would zone out on the network.

And then, she would start it all over again.

One day, however, something had changed. The Rebels, already emboldened by their past victories, smashed the center of power that the Empire held onto so dearly. Their ultimate weapon, destroyed. Their flagship, crashed and burned. Their Lord Vader, dead. Their Emperor, gone. They had broken the back of the Empire, and in the ensuing chaos caused it to splinter. There was much celebration throughout the galaxy, and even in her hole, Singe had drank happily and laughed at the miserable fate of those she hated the most. But...it wasn't over yet. Time passed, and her work continued, but with the Imperials as broken as they were, it was no longer quite so easy to push them into situations, to set them up for disaster. They no longer felt safe and secure, a fact which made her smile, but because of this, procedure was no longer followed, and things would have to change. Singe looked around her dark area with her right amber eye, scanning around the area bathed in dim light.

I'll have to get out there. I don't want to...but I have to kill them all. Every last one of them must pay for what they did to me...

Even she knew that this was a disproportionate response to the situation, but there was a deep and empty gulf where any joy once resided. Even on the reggedy edge, life use to be so much more for her, and now no longer. The stench of the Empire must be scrubbed from existence, like her personal dossier from computers. So, gathering her things, she contacted...well, he was friendly, but not what she called a friend. He was a Tynnan, and they were the most common sensical species in the galaxy. She caught him on hypernet, obviously noy local, but perhaps enough so for a quick pick-up.

"Goggles, you there?"

"Oh, hey! If it ain't my voice from the darkness! What's on the agenda for today, huh? A bit of spice smuggling with Imperial data wedged near my forcefield generator? Dropping off a load of mercenaries into a cantina to intercept some shore leavers?"

"I need transport."

"Sure, sure! How many? Or how much? And where to?"

"I don't know where. Somewhere closer to the hub of activity, underground or otherwise. As for who...just me."

"Whoa, hey. You mean, you wanna meet? I thought you didn't DO direct."

"I don't. Didn't. I- ...it's complicated. Things are changing. I have to move on. I need to think. I need to be able to without worrying about whether I'm a stowaway or not. Could you? I mean, can you?"

There was a pause, as she knew the furry little creature was weighing things in his mind. Tynnan were small water-mammal beings, not great fighters, per se. Goggles himself claimed to go on runs with people sometimes, with a Dug, of all things, but his people didn't take unnecessary risks, because it simply wasn't good sense. If you started a fight on his ship while in transit, he didn't fight you. He locked you in a room, turned off the dampeners and gravity control, then spun the ship around until you were beaten senseless by the ship itself. He was a smart little rodent.

"Am I gonna be in trouble 'cause I know your face?"

"No more than you would for working with me. The Empire's in tatters, but I need to pull on those strings until they unravel entirely. So, can you pick me up on Corellia? Maybe take me somewhere to plan my next move? I need to get a feel for the galaxy again, breathe some new air, stuff like that."

"I can do it. Just, you know, pay me properly."

"I always do. I'm already on my way to your usual pick-up spot. Don't keep me waiting."

"Yeah, yeah. I know."

She was afraid, honestly afraid, but...she would still do it. She had to, until the job was done, and only then would she allow herself to rest... It was quite alot of crawling and slipping into places, unlocking doors and locking them again, sneaking through corridors whether they were disused or not, and for a while she was even on some sort of gang territory, though she couldn't care less. Singe was more capable than the riff-raff. Even before the incident, she could handle herself in a gun fight. Fact is, the first grunt of something even minorly aggressive, she took out her gun and fired at it. There was no time for niceties, right now. By the time she stepped out of an Employees Only area, ignoring the guard shouting at her to get out of the work area if she didn't belong there, she expected to see that freighter incoming at the designated landing pad.

The Crimson Fang was a decently-refurbished YT-1930 Corellian Freighter. It was like an old pet come home to master after a long journey. One of the few symetrical designs out of the lot, it apparently started out as a wreck that the Tynnan picked up at a low price and started doing jobs to...basically return to spaceworthyness. It had guns, decent hyperdrive, shields, ident-faking device, plenty of cargo and crawl spaces, and most of all...it was actually clean. It was also late. Singe felt uncomfortably exposed, and that wasn't because her shoulders were bare. She hadn't been out in a while, and although there weren't any obvious signs of bounty hunters incoming, the wait made her more and more paranoid as time went by. Finally...the cargo ship landed and the ramp dropped down, revealing the small brown-haired mammal that was Meyran Tufts, or Goggles, as he was called, because of the Occular Enhancer used to cope with his less-than-great eyesight. He stood there, light-repeating rifle in his hands, looking up at her, letting out a whistle between his buck teeth.

"No wonder you were in hiding."

"We can't all be small pudgey critters like you."

"Ain't that the truth. Might be more peaceful, though."

"Let's get going, alright?"

"No problem. Uhhh...maybe you wanna use the shower a bit?"

Singe blinked. The little guy had a sense of smell like you wouldn't believe.

"I...erm...yeah, thanks..."

They were on their way to Nar Shaddaa.

The advanced TIE fighter glided gracefully with purpose through the open skies of the Grand Imperium's capital world. The sky lanes were filled with all manner of traffic as they always were. Even from the first day he'd set foot upon the bustling world when he was a young boy, all those years ago. The nonstop traffic and noise, it made it near impossible for him to sleep. Now it was the only noise that helped his slumber, he'd grown so accustom to it. He stared out the main viewport as his starfighter screamed through the skies with a concentrated streamline. Through his Imperial Knight helmet he stared intently at his destination as the towering structure came into a clearer view. A rare smirk etched its way onto his face as he slowed his craft's flight in preparation for landing at one of the pads extending out from the tower. With a hum his starfighter descended from the skies then landed calmly on the pad, Dredar then switched off his vessel as he silenced the howls of the engine.

Then the Force user emerged and he hopped down silently as the cockpit closed itself behind him. Dredar strolled wordlessly across one of the walkways on the exterior of the Grand Medical Facility. He had not come here for medical reasons though, it was rare that anyone did these days. The facility was guarded by a skeleton crew of stormtroopers while the medical staff were entirely droids, the one time that Dredar had been brought here was following his first encounter with Lord Vader. The highly powerful Sith lord was the one that showed Dredar the ways of the dark side and gave the then runaway Jedi a proper lesson in the perils of holding back. The Imperial knight would always hold gratitude in his heart for the esteemed Sith, freeing him from the weakness which plagued him. Even if it cost him a hand, it was a worthy teaching.

The door came open automatically as Dredar stepped through into one of the hallways of the medical facility. He walked the curving hallway calmly, as he gave a glance sideways out the windows to the planetwide city below the tower. He was delighted the Empire had maintained control of it and garrisoned it properly. A rebel attack on it would be suicide. As the imposing man walked down the hallway he came face to face with a duo of bored looking stormtroopers. Not expecting the arrival of him they hesitated for a moment before giving standard salutes to Dredar. The Imperial knight nodded wordlessly to both of the soldiers then stepped through the doorway. He was met with another hallway, with multiple doors along each side which served as hospital rooms. The former inquisitorius wagered they were most if not all empty at the moment, though the medical droids which staffed the building still acted out their programming. A few more bored stormtroopers milled around, but snapped into top shape as Dredar appeared before them.

"Are you in need of medical attention, sir?" A grey protocol droid asked in a curious tone from its standing position at a console behind the main desk. Dredar glanced at the robotic being and shook his head as he spoke out.

"No, I am here on other matters, in the lower levels of this facility." He replied as the droid nearly interrupted him to muster its own reply of denial.

"The lowermost levels are strictly off limits to all but those with top level clearance, sir." The protocol droid's words tinged with certainty, speaking from a long written ago command.

"I have that. You will let me in, I have total clearance from direct orders of Lord Ozzel, and as the Knight Commander of the Imperial Knights. Do not dare to defy me, droid." Dredar exclaimed impatiently, his prosthetic fist clenched tightly as he spoke. The tone in his voice drawing the eyes of the patrolling stormtroopers who looked at the developing scene silently.

"One moment, sir," The droid replied, sensing the tension in Dredar's words as it tapped at the console rapidly. Then looked back towards the head Knight. "My greatest apologies for the delay, sir. You may proceed."

As the droid finished its speaking the Force user walked off silently, clearing his thoughts of the brief annoyance. He wagered he was the first one to demand entry into the lower levels since Lord Vader of the Emperor. He had found himself in elite company in that regard. Dredar marched towards the elevator at the end of the hallway, and as he stepped inside he blinked at the sensation which tinged at his senses. It caused him to draw in his breath as the elevator doors shut themselves and he pressed the button for the bottom floor. As the elevator descended downwards it was as if the sensation clawed at his bones and traced its fingertips down his spine. He shut his eyes in a wordless resistance as the dark side seeped from the lowest level of the building. He'd been in the deepest ends of the dark side in his previous days in the Empire, as the Eleventh Brother of the inquisitors. He still clung on to some of his dark side teachings, but forced himself to abandon the most worrisome elements of it which he deemed incompatible with the tenets of his new order.

As he stepped foot off the elevator he felt a hunger to embrace those exact elements. To plunge himself into the darkness and become like Vader, Sidious and those that walked in the dark side before even them. Dredar resisted the urge as he stared upon the assembled Sith artifacts before him. Ancient lightsabers of fallen Sith sat in glass cases, each one permeated with the dark side of the force. Practically every single artifact in here did. He wondered how the Emperor had accumulated such a wealth of priceless items, many dating back thousands of years. As Dredar walked the walkway his eyes drifted downwards to to a repository of kyber crystals. Enough to make a massive amount of crimson corrupted lightsabers. It was where his inquisitor lightsaber had come from, the one which he had mounted on the walls of his personal chambers. Voices seemed to scream out to him to take that weapon once more and embrace the ways of the Sith as his paramount teachings. He shook his head and took another deep breath as he continued in his stride.

The mask of a long fallen Sith lord sat before him, mounted alongside several others. Dredar stared upon it intensely, as he subconsciously shifted his hands towards his own helmet. The man's fingers grasped the bottom sides of the his helmet and lifted it off his head. Then he dropped it without a thought, the hard metal helm clanging against the walkway loudly before resting on the floor beside him. His gloved fingertips reached for the Sith mask which his eyes had focused on, then held it as he continued his gaze. As Dredar brought it closer towards his eyes he felt a long dead voice scream at him to don it. He could not even wager a true guess as to how old the mask was, or how powerful the being that had wore it first was. The Force user brought it closer, then lifted it towards the ceiling above his head. At the last moment he resisted, the dark side suffocating his thoughts as he placed it back on its display and continued down the walkway. His Imperial Knight helmet still laid on the floor as the man walked barefaced in the Sith gallery.

The final items of the collection which he laid his hazel shaded eyes upon were the most alluring to the Force attuned being. An imposing Sith holocron, pyramid in its structure and fiercely large in its stature. It came from the original Sith homeworld, which was now simply a red sanded ruin. The artifact directly next to it drew his attention even more so, a holocron repository. Two of the pyramids on top of each other in a parallel fashion, with an opening in the center. It was compact enough that Dredar could carry it with ease. The dark knowledge within it must have contained holocrons made by all sorts of powerful Sith. He reached his right hand out to it, then placed his natural fingers on top of it gently. As his fingertips made contact he felt a powerful shiver ripple through his mind, as the Imperial knight went wide eyed in shock. His hand shook as it rested on top of the repository, practically pleading with the rest of him to take it and go. To study its contents to become more powerful than any Sith before him.

The dark side swirled around him as if a haze had swept through the room. Pleasure filled whispers of endless power, unbridled victory and temptations of galactic domination. Dredar found it increasingly difficult to think his own thoughts and to breath. His head was a whirlpool of dark side abled visions, each more alluring than the last. He tried to regain his self control as he forced himself to explunge this invading darkness. Then Dredar ripped his hand off the artifact and stepped back from the repository. He was no Sith, his days in the true darkness were now just lessons and memories. He gave the beguiling ancient item one last look then turned his back without more glances.

As he walked back towards the elevator he scooped his helmet where it landed, then Dredar slid it onto his head as he moved back into the elevator. Through the visor of his helmet he gave the Sith collection a last gaze, the dark side in the room seeping itself away as he ascended upwards back to the first floor.

He'd make sure he was the only one that knew of this place, such a collection of dark artifact couldn't fall into the wrong set of hands. It would be sealed off for anyone beside him, and he'd try his damnedest to stave off the seduction to return to it. But as Dredar exited the elevator and made his way out of the facility his thoughts dwelled on the Sith holocron repository. The visions it teased him with as well as the pure power he felt examining it. Two legendary Sith lords had built the Empire the Grand Imperium had been birthed from. Such temptation was exceedingly dangerous and life altering, but Dredar could not extinguish the allure from his mind.

The floor gave out, and he was falling. He hit the next floor and managed to roll with the fall, but his leg still about gave out on him and put him in a crouched position.

“How do you live in this thing?”

The metallic sound of his voice through the translator rang out in the empty, dilapidated hall of the wrecked ship. He heard the footfalls overhead as his quarry ran along, knowing where to step to avoid weak points unlike Binyo. With a groan he lifted himself to his feet and took off down the hall, following from below. Not so much as a glance from one of the apartments was turned in his direction. The people here were so forlorn themselves they didn’t even care about a chase happening on the other side of their door. Their emotions hung around them like dark storm clouds that in turn imposed themselves on Binyo. Being in a Venator, the pain pressing in around him, it was like being back in the war, but he couldn’t let those thoughts take him now. He did what he could to push the dull ache in his mechanical leg to the back of his mind along with the memories of war and focus on the job at hand. Through the dark clouds in the Force, he kept track of the presence above him.

He reached out through the Force and wrenched his hand back, pulling a section of the ceiling above him down with the sound of screeching metal. It was to no avail, though, and the criminal kept running. Binyo leapt up through the hole he made in time to see the door at the end of the hall shut. He could sense multiple individuals on the other side and could easily guess they all had blasters trained on the door. The DC-17 slid from his holster and was a familiar weight in his hand. He switched it to stun, but not because he was concerned with killing anyone on the other side of the door. The job had specified bringing in the ex-Imperial alive to see justice at the hands of the New Republic, and in a confusing shoot out like the one that would ensue it would be hard to judge who was who.

Binyo took a breath, centering himself, letting the Force flow around him. The aged, rusted metal was sharp to his nostrils but was lessened by the layers of dust that coated it. In an instant he was taken back to Kuvin telling him to let the Force guide him, that it would speak to him if he listened. He didn’t know if it would talk to him now, or what it would say if it did, but he used the old breathing technique to steady himself. When he opened his eyes he raised the blaster in one hand and reached his other hand out toward the door and pulled. It ripped from the entrance and flew toward him, hovering there. A volley of blaster bolts followed the door, but he ducked behind it and held it aloft. The bolts struck the door and floor around him. When the bolts stopped, he stood and pushed the door out in front him and advanced. To say the gunmen were shocked would be understatement. They practically froze when they saw the door hovering there in front of him. They went down when the stunning bolts hit them square in the chest, and he continued through the door.

More were waiting on the other side, but he moved the door to his left to block the incoming bolts on that side and opened fire on the right flank. He stunned a few and managed to duck the rest’s bolts. With a sweep of his hand he sent a table into their legs and shot them as they hit the ground. When the right flank went down, more from the left shifted around. He abandoned his makeshift shield and sent it slamming into two of the gunmen. Bolts hit around his feet as he leapt through the air and rolled behind another table. He ducked there a moment to give himself a beat to breath. The remaining gunmen kept up their fire on the table to pin him down. He took a few pot shots over the table, and they immediately returned fire where his hand had been. The noise and smoke from blaster fire choked his senses as it swirled around the apartment, and he could feel the ache in his leg returning. With it came a twinge of anger, and he latched onto it and pushed out with it. The table went flying across the room at waist height, and Binyo launched himself over it in a flip.

As it slammed into two gunmen, he opened fire as soon as he landed. In the split second of confusion, he managed to down the last of his assailants. The haze of smoke and smell of burning ozone from the blaster fire eventually faded, leaving the full view of the destroyed apartment before Binyo. The gunmen lay scattered across the floor before him in the various poses they hit the ground in. He began searching through them until he found Gorn Bidlo, the ex-Imperial war criminal. Binyo wasn’t fully sure what his crimes were, but he didn’t feel that mattered as much as knowing he served the Empire until the end. Well, the end for it in some sectors of space. The Remnant still maintained its hold over Coruscant. The shackles locked in place over Gorn’s wrists, and Binyo threw him over his shoulder. The tenants were peaking out of their doors now, but he ignored them.

The elevator down shook and rattled to the point he thought he was going to plummet through the wrecked ship again. The elevator came to a rough stop on the ground floor though, and he stepped out of the makeshift entrance in the side of the ship’s hull. Once Gorn was secured in the limited back space of The Solar Tide, Binyo was off.

Deep Space

“Damnable pirate scum!” A middle-aged woman shouted to herself inside the cramped cockpit of a modified Z-95 headhunter. She wore a weathered leather coat over a crinkled undershirt. The woman suddenly pulled the flight yoke to her chest and swung it around. Attempting to keep herself from being too easy a target, just an instant later red-orange laser bolts pierced the empty space her fighter was before she kicked it ‘upwards’.

“If they’re going to kill me, they should just do it!” She shouted again in frustration; of course, she didn’t really want to die, she remembered, and lightly clutched at her breast pocket of her coat. Even the best pilot would be hard pressed to evade ten fighters, and she wasn’t even supposed to be flying. All things considered, she was lucky, but it didn’t seem like it would hold.

A barrage of laser fire collided over her cockpit, causing a translucent blue aura to flash right in front of her eyes, a moment later missile alarms and shield power warnings started flaring on her computer screen. Her evasive skills wouldn’t hold out much longer she thought to herself. A second later her shields had given out, eliciting another alarm, she ignored it to focus on flying, but it wouldn’t be enough.

One of the missiles they had launched exploded into her port wing, blowing off a large part of it, and sent her spiraling away uncontrollably. The woman screamed for a moment as her body, and ship, where jerked violently. Stars and even the pirate fighters spun around her in dizzying blurs, sparks shot out of various corners of her cockpit, and the computer screen started flickering.

A crackly voice came through her comms, it seems her computer was probably still fully functional.

“That’s what you get for stealing from us little girl!”

The woman scoffed; it was stolen from her people in the first place.

“If you’re careful we might let you go!” The voice taunted her as laser blasts rained down around her, and not at her. Trying to be intimidating, no doubt. Through the flickering she was able to tell that she was at least flying half a ship, the port engines and weapons were gone, disabled and destroyed respectively. But she still had the other side, and she wouldn’t go without a fight. The headhunter was slow to turn, and she would surely be destroyed the second her gun faces them.

“Wait a minute, everyone, Imps!” The man shouted through the open comms, he sounded panicked and clearly didn’t have time to switch where he was talking to.

“Turn around, turn around!” The ragtag group of custom ships tried to run as an Imperial Star Destroyer approached, tiny figures could be seen escaping the ventral side. She didn’t need her computer to tell her what those were, and she felt relieved.

They closed in fast, she was just barely able to stabilize her ship and start turning as a TIE fighter zoomed by. Green flashes of energy shot from its underside and penetrated one of the pirate fighters, the shields only activated for an instant before the lasers melted through the hull, igniting it in a fiery explosion a second later.

The other pirates had lasted about as long, a staticky shout and a silenced radio indicated her tormentor had met his end. Some of them had been flying a headhunter like her, some of them had been flying Scyk class starfighters, stuff you’d find easily on the black-market or for sale from the Hutts. Nothing compared to a top of the line fighter from Sienar, and their pilots were just thugs in the end. The woman took a moment to wave away some smoke from her face and powered down some of her systems, giving herself some relief from the sparks, and helping her come down from the battle.

One of the TIE fighters came back around to her front, window to window, to check on her perhaps?

“Obsidian-7 to intelligence agent, still alive?” The pilot asked, just as crackly as the pirate from before.

Intelligence agent? He likely wasn’t fully briefed, and it’s likely he never will be.

“Yes, my thanks.” The woman said relieved, and let her hands go limp.

“It was our pleasure.” He replied, likely with a cocky smirk, but she wouldn’t hate him for that.


The Star Destroyer's hangar ceiling was lined with docked TIE fighters, bombers, and interceptors. All of them an essential part of the ship’s arsenal. Maintenance personnel moved about, giving attention to fighters and other equipment that lay about. Liam was sitting in front of his fighter, staring, after having just written his after-mission report. With the action gone he was now left with just his thoughts.

“Hey, Liam, why the sour face?” Obsidian-6, Maran Ortonam, had called out to him while jogging over. It would be accurate to call Maran beautiful, he had a weirdly feminine face, and lose blonde hair that went down just past his ears. His well-coiffed hair, slender nose and body had lent him an appealing androgynous body. But Liam was confident he knew Maran was a twenty-year-old man.

“We never even got her name. I only found out ‘he’ was a she when I commed her.”

“What? That’s it?” Maran said incredulously, then donned a devious looking smile.

“That’s fine isn’t it? Not even I can get a woman’s name on the first try all the time you know.”

Liam’s face scrunched up, and then relaxed into a smile.

“You nerfherder, you’re younger than me you know! I’ve seen some action!” Liam got up and jokingly poked his finger into Maran’s chest, as if he was accusing him.

“What’s this about action?” Obsidian-2, Jarael Teldan, holding her helmet to the side had waved them over. She was about thirty-four years, with short black hair the same length as Maran, a striking woman with a lively glint in her eyes. She’d have to be to keep up with the rest of the squad.

“Sir!” Maran and Liam both stood at attention, their bodies as straight as a rod.

“At ease, I just came to get you two out of here.” Jarael pointed behind with her thumb to the side, revealing a few mechanics leaning to the side chatting, they glanced for a moment and stopped, obviously waiting.

“Sorry guys.” Liam said with a light shrug and turned to leave with his comrades.

Imperial Lord Koren Ozell // Coruscant

Koren stood in his office, hands clasped behind his back looking out on the surface of Coruscant. It was a beautiful world, the only world he had ever truly known. He turned around to his desk, two Sentry Droids stood at either side of the door. He had forgone Palpatine's Royal Guards, many had gone out on revenge sprees against the New Republic hunting down the so-called heroes of the Rebellion responsible for their master's death. Instead, he preferred droids, they were loyal and easy to control. Even if someone managed to hack into his encrypted control net he had a kill switch that would shut them down. Easy, dependable, loyal. Byss was in the process of producing them en-masse, he already had a reasonably sized force of them but he intended to replace the frontline Imperium force with droids, that way he wouldn't have to face the idea of losing troops unnecessarily. Another win in the PR department.

Sitting at his desk he brought up a list of projections for the New Republics' continued assault. He had already reinforced several planets, the smart move from the Republic would be to open up multiple avenues of attack. Then on the push to Coruscant itself, he would need to divide his fleet weakening his position significantly. With Coruscant Koren could maintain some semblance of control, some semblance of order within the Galaxy. He sighed placing his hands on his head as he felt a migraine coming on. He leaned back in his chair, looking at the ceiling above him. He had been in this very room many times while Palpatine had been in office, while the decor had been changed to something more sleek and modern one of the most important aspects had remained the same. The desk was in the same position. He led the people from the same place Palpatine had, arguably the most important person in the last thousand years of the Galaxy.

Koren's domain was considerably slower, but it would grow if he proved capable. Palpatine didn't need to conquer territory, and neither did he. He would earn it, his way.

If the New Republic could just leave him alone for long enough. That's when the idea struck him, but it wouldn't be a popular one. Some of the people would see it as weakness, others capitulation. He tapped a series of buttons on the desk and within moments General Verillion appeared before him. Cybernetic eye and all, the General had worked closely with him for years. He trusted the military man with his life and was one of the few men that he could consider a friend. "General."

The holographic image saluted. "Lord Imperium."

"General. How goes the integration of droids into our forces?"

The General raised an eyebrow. "Very well My Lord. The Mk.II Sentry Droids-"

"Dark Troopers." Koren corrected, the term had been coined by General Rom Mohc. A Clone Wars Veteran and the push force behind augmenting and assisting flesh and blood troops with droids. A Dark Trooper knew no fear, was heavily armored and heavily armed. The successor to the Sentry Droid, which was already a beast in its own right.

Verillion nodded. "The Dark Troopers are working well, there are still some issues with their programming but all in all things seem to be progressing well. Knowing you however My Lord, I know you've read my briefing front too back. What is it you wish to know?"

A small smirk crossed the old man's face. Few people could see straight through him like that, it was refreshing. "I'm considering sending an envoy to the New Republic-" If the General had any misgivings about this idea his face did not betray them. Instead, he waited patiently for Koren to continue. "-we can't hold the New Republic back, especially not indefinitely. Perhaps we can convince them that we don't intend to go out claiming territory, which we don't. That was never on the cards, I care about Coruscant and her neighbors. Peace, Order, and Justice brought to these systems, not that chaos that is spreading throughout the Galaxy. If other worlds wish to join, that is on them."

"You understand, that in opening a dialogue, you will alienate yourself from the other fractions of the Empire that exist? After all, you will only legitimize the New Republic as an equal, rather than a terrorist movement." Koren scowled. They couldn't live in the past forever, they had to find a way to change and to adapt.

"Perhaps." Koren stood up, and walked back to the window, staring out at the cityscape. "Though perhaps there is another way." He turned his attention to one of the droids by the door. "Summon Knight Commander Dredar." He leaned on the desk, his face approaching the hologram, a look of malice in his eye. "Thank you General, as always you have proved a great asset."

The holographic image saluted, and the man went to speak but before he could Koren ended the transmission. A plan was all coming together now.

_{On-board The Forward Thrust, entering the Sloo Sector of the Outer Rim}

---

Right hook. Block. Counter, right jab. Follow-through.

The female Zabrak took a step back, only to fall down onto her right knee as she held her palms up in defeat. Before Captain Dev Arx could open his mouth, she barked out. "Yeah, I leave my right side open when I lose my balance. I get it. You've only said it a thousand times." She grit her teeth as she slowly stood back up, rubbing the sore spot on her chin where Dev had gotten a good hit in.

The Captain nodded while he removed the wraps around his hands. He had been going hard on Hit lately when it came to hand-to-hand training. The glorified security detail was only about an hour away from touching down for their first major assignment: Make contact with a Rodian politician by the name of Jat Kaal in the frigid wasteland of Vandor to begin preliminary negotiations in getting Vandor to join the New Republic. Of course, as of the moment, Dev and Hit had the easy job of simply piloting the ship down and making sure Rexalia didn't walk into a trap.

As if on cue, the Twi'lek diplomat sauntered into the makeshift training room and armory that used to serve as a lounge. She was clearly dressed for the occasion, sporting an all white jumpsuit with a white fur coat. If Dev didn't know any better, it looked as if she were going on a vacation and not walking into a potential ambush. Rexa gave her usual wide smile to the two SpecForce operatives, making rather exaggerated and wild hand motions while speaking in a rather bubbly tone. "We've got a few minutes before dropping out of Light Speed. Are you done wrestling so we can have our briefing?" Dev gave a nod, and the three moved out into the large central chamber of The Forward Thrust all standing around the holoterminal at the center.

Rexa quickly began setting up the briefing, with a world map of Vandor appearing on screen. A large red dot appeared on a spot on the planet's surface, and the Twi'lek began talking as the holographic projection zoomed in on that spot to reveal a topographical map of the area. "Jat Kaal was the Imperial appointed Spaceport Minister on Vandor. Since the Empire's fall and decline of direct influence on the region, the small government Vandor has developed declared the planet 'independent.' The unfortunate reality is that Jat Kaal seems to have reliable intel that the Empire is still making use of Vandor's resources and facilities, and that the recent government that has cropped up is run by former Imperial officers. The report I received suggests that Minister Kaal was hesitant to reveal any further information, and requested a direct meeting to negotiate terms. He left a coded message with coordinates for a meeting spot."

By this point, the topographical map revealed a rather mountainous landscape. The red dot pointed to a mesa protected on three sides by mountainous ridges, while the other side dropped off towards a frozen over lake. Rexa took a half step backwards as Dev approached the map, pointing to various spots as he spoke. "We're going to do a pass over the area first. We're going to do a slow flyby. Weather conditions indicate to a mild storm in the region, which will muddy any scans we do. Nevertheless, Hit, I want you running some basic scans in rotations every five minutes. We're going to pass by this flat bit of ridge here. This'll be the LZ for my low drop, and I'll check vantage points along the ridge to make sure we're clear of snowmen. Once I signal the all-clear, you will land on the ridge and await your rendevous. I'll be on overwatch in case things get dicey. Any questions?"

Hit gave an inquisitive nod, her tongue running along her molars for a moment before voicing her question. "Concealed or Open?"

Dev gave a short nod and turned his gaze to Rexa. "Is the target expecting New Republic operatives?"

"His cipher indicated it was meant for Alliance Intelligence."

Dev turned his gaze back to Hit, his expression stoic and voice rather monotone. "Open. Pack for a tussle, but don't pack heavy."

Rexa looked between Dev and Hit for a second, shaking her head as she was able to decipher the lingo. "I'm sorry, but do we really need to be flaunting weapons in front of potential allies? That's not very friendly."

Dev sighed as he folded his arms and stood up as straight as he could, towering a good seven inches above Rexa. "My mission parameters are to keep you safe at all costs. The profile on Minister Kaal was inconclusive on whether he's being used as a pawn for an Imperial presence on Vandor, or if he's working for a local crime syndicate. If Kaal has company, I want it made clear that we aren't to be messed with."

Rexa's lips curled into a frustrated frown as she gave a slightly indignant grunt. While she didn't entirely agree with Dev's plan, there wasn't much she could do about it either. She could tell that his mind was set. With that, Dev relaxed a bit and let his hands rest on his utility belt at his sides. "Alright. We should be dropping out of light speed any moment."

---

The blackened hull of the Usk streaked through the atmosphere of Tatooine, quickly moving to its designated landing spot in the hustle and bustle of Mos Eisley. The spaceport remained as active as ever, not that it had remotely seen the Empire’s touch outside the Battle of Tatooine. However, the history of Imperial rule over Mos Eisley nor the battle that raged around it were of much interest to the bounty hunter, Tsot. Her ship landed in one of the many docking bays, the ramp of the old XS-freighter lowering allowing the sole pilot of the vessel to walk out. The trandoshan pushed a poor soul that had been frozen in carbonite, her blaster rifle on her back and her sword on her hip ready for any surprises that the city may have in store.

Another trandoshan came out from the shade of the docking bay, a cruel smile on his face as he saw the score that the hunter had brought in. ”I see grabbing the debt runner went smoothly, Tsot,” Droc stated as he approached his cousin.

”He was a worthless challenge. The Scorekeeper would have not approved of me wasting my skills on such a… petty criminal,” Tsot responded, pushing the frozen man along before stopping next to her cousin. She gave him a wordless order and Droc responded with a nod before calling out to his droids to begin refueling the Usk for its next journey. The hunter then moved along to cash in her bounty. She snarled to herself seeing as how the lowly debt runner had pleaded with her to not kill him. He hadn’t hid, he didn’t hire guards, nor did he put up a fight. People such as this was why Tsot went to Otoc’fiho for her bounties and not some bureaucrat or simple corporate man.

However, the credits that the debt runner would give her more than enough to pay for fuel costs and to pay Otoc more in order to get adequate bounties. In fact, the twi'lek was exactly who Tsot went to look for after dropping off the disgrace of a bounty. The trandoshan stalked into the cantina, people chattered loudly and paid no heed to the hunter as she was just another normal person there on business, just as many of them were. Tsot quickly found herself seated in front of the green-skinned twi'lek, a sly grin forming across Otoc’fiho’s face as she saw the trandoshan seat herself.

”If it isn’t my favorite hunter! It has sure been a while hasn’t it, Tsot” the twi’lek said in a mocking tone as she held out a hand, ready to receive her payment. However, Tsot merely gazed at her, narrowing her eyes.

”Must you always extort me for contracts?” Tsot asked with a hostile snort following, fiddling around her pocket for the payment that Otoc’fiho wanted. Her gaze never faltered as the twi’lek waited with the most cocky smile sat firmly across her face as credits were slid into her green hands. However, her smile disappeared when she looked at home much had actually been given her, and instead she gave the trandoshan a confused look.

”This is less than the last time you had paid me!” Otoc’fiho complained, earning a sly smile from Tsot as she arrogantly looked down upon the twi’lek. The trandoshan didn’t need to speak before Otoc’fiho let out a sigh of disappointment before reaching down and placing a few bounty pucks onto the table. ”You are lucky I like you Tsot. And that I am utterly scared of pissing you off on the wrong day,” she said in an honest voice, leaning back in her seat as the hunter inspected the quarries.

Tsot’s eyes stopped on one that had no face and merely the simple name of “Singe'', her clawed fingers wrapped around the puck before looking at Otoc’fiho.

”Ah. I see you picked out the one with possibly the least amount of information I have seen in a long time,” the twi’lek looked around to make sure that there were not any unwanted listeners before continuing in a more hushed tone, “That is an imperial contract, old, and submitted to me under the table of course. From what I’ve heard, this ‘Singe’ is a slicer, a Sephi woman, and she is a hard one to track down. If I didn’t know you, I wouldn’t really give this one out, but knowing you, you’d enjoy the challenge.”

The sly smile that had been on Tsot’s face became one that practically drooled over the challenge, knowing that a slicer was likely to be hard to chase down and that they may just make a fine addition to her Jagannath Points. Tsot put the puck into her pocket before looking back at Otoc’fiho with her cruel smile plastered all over her face, asking in a guttural voice, ”How much more do you know of this slicer?”

The twi’lek put a finger under her chin for a moment, thinking for a brief moment before speaking, ”Well, for starters, from the records the imperials had of this woman, there seemed to be a correlation between her and one Kiara Tosk, a mercenary hired by Singe on many different operation. Kiara has her own posse though, so I would say to be careful on this lead.”

Tsot only smiled more as she stood from her seat, nodding to Otoc’fiho before turning away from the twi’lek to begin making her way back through the cantina. The trandoshan had her mark and her lead, now all that was left was to track down the loose end so that she could force her quarry out of hiding. When she neared the door of the cantina, she heard the voice of Otoc’fiho call out to her, ”Good hunting, trandoshan!”

Back at the hangar which housed the Usk, Tsot found herself walking up to her cousin and her smile brought a cruel smile to him as well. “I assume you have a target?” Droc asked with a light chuckle, earning a simple nod from the hunter as she stepped towards her ship. Droc followed closely behind, “I refueled the Usk and made sure that everything on it is good. Though, you will need to find more replacement parts for the ramp, and it might start falling apart soon.”

”That doesn’t matter me, Droc,” Tsot stated, turning to her cousin and crossing her arms as she looked him up and down. ”You’re coming with me Droc, going to be chasing down a mercenary band that has our lead,” she ordered, which got a semi-surprised look out of the other trandoshan but before he could say anything else, she was already walking aboard her ship. Droc scrambled to gather his weapons and order his droids to guard the hangar as the engine of the Usk roared to life.

Tsot could hear her relative scramble onboard, the ship beginning it’s ascent into the sky of Tatooine as the ramp raised itself. She heard Droc stomp into the cockpit, muttering to himself only to stop out of fear when Tsot gave him a simple look. He dared not say anything directly to her, knowing that he would be on the chopping block if he did. Eventually, her eyes went back to the view outside of the window as the Usk broke the atmosphere of Tatooine and welcomed itself into the empty vacuum of space. Only then did Tsot speak, her voice commanding and focused, ”Begin scanning the HoloNet for any signs of a Kiara Tosk. She is a mercenary and my lead.” She heard Droc silently begin to go to work, searching the HoloNet for any signs of the mercenary, unquestioning his cousin’s orders.

”May the Scorekeeper reward me with many points on this hunt.” Tsot said to herself, followed by the guttural laugh that only a trandoshan could muster.

The hunt had begun.

_{The Jedi Praxeum - Yavin IV}

---

Two lightsabers, one green and one blue, clashed together. This was followed by two green interlocking as Jaysin Lyr gave a small, confident smile to his sparring partner. Shass hated that grin, because it meant that the older Jedi was going to impart some lesson on patience or focus. Ironically, that was what made her slip up as Jaysin's blades managed to pull back and swipe her defenses away. Shass looked slightly bewildered as she quickly pulled her lightsabers back up in a defensive position, but it was too late. Jaysin had already deactivated his sabers, sliding the hooks into the proper position on the belt of his Jedi robes. The Mirialan gave a brief sigh as she deactivated her own sabers. "It was the focus thing, wasn't it?"

Jaysin gave a small, nonchalant shrug as he walked over to the corner of this alcove in the Jedi Praxeum, sitting down on a bench carved into the natural stone wall. "You are the one who has the answer to that, not me." Shass opened her mouth to speak, but paused in confusion. The older Jedi's grin emerged once again. "Do you know what the true weapon of a Jedi Knight is?"

Shass rolled her eyes. "A lightsaber."

"No." Jaysin's grin faded away as he looked the padawan in the eyes. All of Shass' attitude washed away as the eyes she stared into had lost their twinkling humor. He was serious. His tone even grew more grave as the Jedi removed his master's old lightsaber from his belt, and held it aloft. "A lightsaber can fail you. It can be lost, damaged, stolen. A Jedi without his lightsaber is still a Jedi. So I will ask you again, Shass Vayu... what is a Jedi's true weapon."

The young padawan's eyes fell to the ground as she concentrated. Her mind combed through her previous lessons with Lyr and from Master Skywalker, and from the other Jedi and learners around. But her mind just couldn't figure out what exactly he meant. The only answer she could muster was a simple, timid response. "The Force?"

Jaysin gave a small, polite shaking of his head to indicate she was wrong. "No... not quite. We may use lightsabers, the force, or even our words. But the tool... the weapon that lets us access all of this... is focus." With this, Jaysin's grin creeped back onto his face.

Shass's face twisted in confusion and sudden anger at her instructor's jest. "I... fine. Let's go again then. And this time, I'll try to focus."

Jaysin gave a curt nod towards Shass as he got up onto his feet and pulled his lightsaber up into his other hand. As both Jedi ignited their blades, Instructor Lyr's nod indicated the beginning of another sparring match.

At the edge of the Grizmallt system appeared three X-wings in a V formation followed by a dozen Y-wings close behind them. The squadrons closed in on the 67th Defense Force at cruising speed, with each X-wing pilot taking a close look at what resources they would have to work with. Rogue Squadron being divided into four groups was not ideal, but Wedge insisted on it. The campaign to take Coruscant would push their limits in a way not felt since Endor. What remained of the Empire was on the back foot, and it was their job to keep it that way. Slowly but surely all trace of their reign was coming to an end.

“Not much of a fleet,” muttered Rogue Four—Kyrin Onasi—as they entered better visual range. “More escorts than heavy hitters. How’s a fleet like this challenging anything near the Core?”

“With a good strategy,” Rogue Two—Nareia Norre—replied plainly. The support ships were a great comfort to her. Vice Admiral Vothoni’s reputation for success against poor odds even more so. “The Vice Admiral typically retains and protects the territory we’ve captured, but the push for Coruscant is going to take all the manpower we can spare. That includes putting a defensive fleet on the offensive.”

“Which you’d know if you showed up to briefings on time,” added Rogue Three—Rayce Dallows—with a joking tone. His smile was practically audible. “If you weren’t so good at what you do, Wedge would cut you loose.”

“Doesn’t that go for all of us?”

“The rest of us show up to briefings on time.”

“And I love you guys for it, I really do.”

The banter between wingmen would have carried on for quite some time if the time for action weren’t so near. The fighters and bombers were now on approach for the Reckless Endeavor’s starboard side, carefully maneuvering past a couple CR90 corvettes on their way. Glancing through her portside window, Nareia swore she could see the waving hands of the crewmen. Morale appeared to be high, and if this operation went as smoothly as she expected it to, they would all be celebrating on a liberated Coruscant in no time.

A ping flickered across her ship’s dashboard with an incoming call coming from the Reckless Endeavor. She opened the channel and broadcast the audio to her wingmen. “This is Rogue Two, go ahead,” she said loud and clear, eyeing the Venator’s impressive cannons with a growing grin.

“Hey there. Glad to have a few of the Rogues and Gold Squadron join our humble fleet,” answered a high-spirited masculine voice, who then let out a sharp whistle. “High Command really came through for us. Oh, ah, Deck Chief Naalwex at your service. I was told you’d be arriving shortly. You’ll be clear to dock in our starboard hangar—more than enough room, don’t you worry!”

“Much appreciated, Naalwex. We’re coming in now.” Dialing back her ship’s throttle, the rest of the Rogues and Gold Squadron followed suit.

“I’m on my way to meet you, and I’ll be escorting you to the Vice Admiral personally. The layout of this ship is a little complicated at first—you can thank me later!” The comm channel was closed after one final acknowledgment was received.

The Rogues flew inside the hangar, one after the other, and followed the directions provided by a marshal below. Setting down on their designated spaces, Nareia and the others powered down their ships and descended their ladders to gather in front of them. They watched as Marvo and the other eleven Y-wings eased themselves inside before hearing the brisk steps of a new face approach.

They turned and before them stood a sharply dressed Mon Calamari. A handful of medals dangled from his right breast; upon a closer look, they appeared freshly polished and glinted in the artificial light of the hangar bay. As another Y-wing settled down not far from them, a familiar whistle was uttered between his puckered lips.

“I never get tired of seeing fresh ships and manpower coming in,” Naalwex said excitedly, hardly containing his smile. “We’re close now, I can feel it. Coruscant will be back in the New Republic’s hands soon enough.”

“That’s the idea.” Nareia nodded and offered a warm smile. From the opposite side of the hangar she could see Gold Leader—Marvo Rikks—hustling over to them after providing direction to the men that landed. A handful of his wingmen hustled behind him, just as the last Y-wing powered down. “Enjoy your nap, Marvo?”

“As always,” Marvo replied with a smooth hum in his throat, and then acknowledged Naalwex with a respectful nod. It was immediately returned. “Naalwex, you said your name was?”

“Correct. Deck Chief Doil Naalwex to be exact, and more than happy to guide you all!” Naalwex exaggerated his joy with widespread arms. As the last Y-wing pilot hustled over to join the gathering, he proceeded to back away and nod towards the opened doors leading towards the rest of the ship. “If you’ll just follow me, I’ll guide you all to the bridge. The Vice Admiral has been eager to discuss the specifics of the upcoming assault!”

The trio of Rogues followed, with Marvo and Gold Squadron joining them. “Wedge mentioned a special strategy we’re to be a part of?” Rayce asked, hoping for more. Not even the leader of Rogue Squadron got the full story, but he knew that if anyone could pull it off, it would be a few of his own. “What’s he got planned?”

“And why couldn’t he meet us himself?” Kyrin dared to ask.

Naalwex was unshaken by the boldness of Kyrin’s question. Serving with Trask Vothoni had been one of the greatest honors of his military career. His faith in the man was indomitable. Still, he couldn’t blame one of the newcomers for being a little disappointed. Rogue Squadron was famed for their acts of daring and high mission success rate. They were the closest thing to celebrities some of the men might ever see during their time in service, and that afforded them some privilege. The only thing that might top them would be hosting the Jedi someday, another honor the Mon Calamari hoped to have.

“Forgive him. He’s got quite the mouth,” Nareia apologized, shooting Kyrin a look—he shrugged, thinking his remark harmless. Figures.

“It’s quite alright,” Naalwex replied with a dismissive wave of the hand. “The specifics of the mission are currently being relayed to our fleet as a whole. With part of Rogue Squadron and the full strength of Gold Squadron now in our corner, I believe Ultrost is a guaranteed victory.”

“If Intelligence does their job, you might be right about that,” Marvo said, looking between the back of Naalwex and Nareia’s sideways glance. “Dividing our forces to this extent is risky. We’re counting on a few capable teams to divert reinforcements entirely or prevent them from showing up. But should that fail…”

“We’ll adapt,” Naalwex said confidently. “Have you ever worked alongside the Vice Admiral before, Commander Rikks?”

“I can’t say I’ve had the pleasure just yet,” he replied.

Naalwex chuckled under his breath. “You’re in for quite the treat. Have faith, all of you. You’re in good hands.”

Their curiosity piqued, everyone’s interest in meeting this Vice Admiral surged. Naalwex regarded him with deep respect and infectious confidence. The way he spoke of Vothoni made all of them anxious to see what a defensive fleet commander could do when the time came to take the fight back to the Remnant.

They shuffled as a complete unit and passed by many personnel, both human and alien alike. Some chose to salute as they passed by, but whether it was for Naalwex or the group of pilots close behind him was unknown. They winded around these unfamiliar halls for a time; only Marvo was confident in where they were going, with the rest of the pilots unused to the layout of the Venator.

Once they found the spacious elevator and took it to the bridge, the doors opened to show the Vice Admiral’s back turned to them. Multiple holograms of people decorated in New Republic attire surrounded him.

Naalwex quietly ushered the pilots out of the elevator and hurried to the front of the queue, standing tall and proud. He waited for the Vice Admiral to conclude his briefing, or pause it, before daring to mention that the last of his forces were ready to hear of his grand strategy, too.

“Once again, I thank you and your pilots for your timely intervention.” The recently rescued woman had cleaned her once soot covered face and changed into an imperial officers’ uniform, with her black hair tied into a tight bun.

“I’ll be sure to relay your thanks, but I’m surprised. The information I have on you indicates that you have much experience in the underworld, you wouldn’t have needed to blow your cover this early unless something disastrous happened.” Another woman, Captain Merril Lorrange, replied questioningly. She had red hair tied into a ponytail that rested above her shoulder, and due to her sudden promotion by Vader, was younger than most ‘Commanders’ at twenty-five.

“In a way, I completed an objective far earlier than anticipated. If needed my criminal identity should still be intact and this incident would merely be treated as a ‘theft’. The scum didn’t realize the true value of what they had; they just knew it held something valuable.” The woman seemed to mentally spit on the word ‘theft’ as it left her mouth, but otherwise maintained an impassive face, her Coruscanti accent coming through as clear and calm as any other Imperial.

Merril made a quick mental note. ‘An objective’, one of how many? Maybe it would come up again.

“So, what is its true value?” Merril asked, clasping her fingers together lightly above her desk. The woman revealed an odd shaped piece of metal from her breast pocket. Black, about 2 inches long, 1 inch wide, and 1 cm thick.

“A datachip, but not one compatible with most computers, even the ones on your ship; carrying files from an abandoned research facility.” She sighed. “The state of our Empire saddens me at times.”

“Indeed.” Merril nodded. “But that datachip, even if my computers can’t read it, your datapad can, correct?”
The woman smiled wryly.

“You are correct. But I haven’t decided if I want to share its contents just yet, my apologies Captain. For now, please continue your course back to Coruscant. It would be good for us both to see home, am I not wrong.”

Merril nodded again, feeling a little agitated. Even returning to Coruscant wasn’t a guarantee of safety from the other imperial ‘warlords’ like Moff Omm. Several other Moffs, Admirals, and even some Commodores spent a large part of their time squabbling with the others or trying to desperately hold whatever Imperial assets they can get their hands on. The fact that she was a young, female Captain, with a star destroyer had made her an easy target for their propositions.

“Indeed, dismissed.” Merril nodded firmly. The woman turned over a datapad containing her after mission report and turned to leave. The door shuffled open and closed a moment later.

As soon as the agent left Merril activated her terminal. ‘An abandoned research facility, from Palpatine’s time maybe?’ Her fingers danced across as she tried to recall all his directives, and divine hidden ones based on old Imperial movements. Maybe she would find nothing, but she had the time, at least until Coruscant.


“Aaagggghhh…. When are we going to have a land mission? The last time we orbited a planet was also fighter action only; you fly boys get too much attention…” A young man the same age as Liam groaned and complained amidst a background of other conversations. His black hair was cut short to conform to trooper standards, but was covered by an imperial cap, his jaw was squarer, and he had soft blue eyes.

“Relax Kunsel, I’m sure a boots on the ground mission will come up eventually.” Liam said half-heartedly, waving his hand laxly; of course, nobody knows the future, but it might come true, it was a fifty-fifty kind of thing.

“You son of a bantha! You’re jinxing it for me!” Kunsel shouted and started to dig his knuckles into Liam’s head.
“Nerfherder!” Liam shouted back as he did the same.

“You two always get so loud, take it down a notch.” A gruff approaching voice said. Liam turned his head and saw who it was. Obisidan-1, Ben Jenson, the man who made them a unit. He had a more normal appearance compared to Maran, but it seemed his favorite hobby was weightlifting, as his body was a little on the big side. But he had a gentle giant aura to him with his bright green eyes.

“We’re just high in spirits, Captain.” Liam said as he backed into his seat, Kunsel following his example. Although Kunsel answered to the stormtrooper corps commander, a bad word from Captain Jenson could make his life a lot harder.

“Then maybe I could convince you to log in some extra hours with Eson squad.” Ben said with a villainous smirk.

“N-no way, those guys fly way too weird, I was tuning my fighter back into shape for weeks after they did a ‘ship trade’.” Liam replied, visibly disgusted.

“What’s up with that anyways, you don’t trust the mechanics?”

“Oh, I trust them for your ships, but those twin ion engines are tuned only for this guy.” He said as he jutted his thumb towards his chest with a grin.

“Those engines are certainly impressive; you must be very proud.” Maran said mockingly as he walked up to the table and sat down as well.

“Space is space, as long as you zig and zag, you’re fine, and the specs on the normal tie fighter engines are still pretty high, they even beat out those new T-21s.” Kunsel added, suddenly Liam and the pilots frowned.

“..Troopers..” They said synonymously, leaving Kunsel with a confused look.

As if saving him from further embarrassment, the ship’s alarm sounded, followed by a voice on the intercom.

“Attention, all hands to your battle stations, repeat, all hands to your battle stations!” Another man’s voice, the ship’s comms officer.

“Just sit back and watch from the trooper barracks, I’ll show you how to ‘zig and zag’.” Liam waved to Kunsel as he sprinted off with the other pilots.

Nar Shaddaa

Joren Kel sat in a darkened corner at the very back of Jaspeel's Cantina. At one time, Jaspeel's place had set the standard for class on Nar Shaddaa. The Hutt took great pride in the cantina, sparing no expense to ensure that it was the go-to place for entertainment of any kind on the Smuggler's Moon. But times had changed, and the cantina had fallen into disrepair after the fall of the Empire. Though, it wasn't the rise of the New Republic that set his priorities elsewhere. That even took place shortly before the death of the Empire's High Leadership. Instead, it was the death of the Hutt crime lord, Jabba, and the subsequent war among the remain Hutts that divided his attention.

Jaspeel's sudden thirst for greater power within the Hutt hierarchy had left his cantina a shell of its former self. It had become a run down dive, the kind of place that attracted a lower class of criminal. In fact, the cantina was now home to street gangs, wannabe smugglers and cold blooded killers. In essence, it had become a microcosm of Nar Shaddaa herself.

On this day, Joren didn't come to the cantina for the overpriced bar food or the watered down drinks. He was there to meet his friend, Dono Killar, who was out searching for information on the whereabouts of their friend, Kelsa Sila. Earlier in the day, Joren had been involved with a slight “misunderstanding” with a few members of the Kath Hounds, a local street gang which had recently gained a lot of power by working with the Imperials who had taken control of the system. The Kaths mostly acted as informants for the Imperials, but they had also been known to act as unofficial enforcers for the Imperial warlord, Moff Cruvee. It also happened, that the Kath Hounds leader was a man named Amaral Kenso, who was a long time rival of Joren's. Joren had gotten involved in a game of Chance Cube. The thing about the Kath Hounds, is that they don't handle losing very well, and it didn't take long for them to accuse Joren of cheating.

Which of course he was. However, not in the way that they had assumed. The Kaths had assumed that he'd used a loaded cube. The fact that he had used the Force to manipulate the cube to come up in his favor never occurred to them.

Joren knew that he would have to face the consequences for crossing the Kaths Hounds, however, he never thought that it would be that day, nor in the manner that was facing him now. Shortly after his run in with the gang, Joren was supposed to meet with his friend Kelsa for a bite to eat. However, when she didn't show up, he feared that something had gone wrong. Hoping that she had just been running late, he tried to reach her on her personal comlink, however, there had been no answer. He even reached out to her home, and was informed by her father's protocol droid, K-M, that Kelsa had left the house over an hour ago. The confirmation from the droid that Kelsa had left quite some time ago filled him with dread, and the mysterious call to his comlink confirmed his fears. Though he couldn't make out what was being said, he could hear the laughter of several people, and he could hear Kelsa in the background screaming, begging to be let go.

So he reached out to Dono to help him find out where it was that the Kaths were holding Kelsa, and then work out a plan to get her back.

Voices began to rise as a pair of Duros began squabbling with a Sullustan over a game of sabacc that had apparently gone awry. Before anyone knew it, the table was flipped over and punches were being thrown, causing the patrons seated in the immediate vicinity to scatter. Fortunately, the bouncers arrived on the scene to violently throw the offending parties out of the cantina before blasters had been drawn. Joren watched the events as they unfolded, and under normal circumstances he would have chuckled over the incident, or at the very least cracked a smile. However, this was far from normal circumstances, so Joren just took a sip of Jawa Juice and cringed, then he spit it back into the cup.

More like Bantha Piss. Joren thought to himself as he pushed the cup away.

“Well, that's not good.” Joren thought to himself as the cantina suddenly went quiet as all of the chatter, and even the music from the band, stopped for a moment. He had expected to see the Kaths, or even some of the Imperial stormtroopers that had made the area their home waltz into the cantina, but was relieved when he saw a single Mandalorian adorned in blue armor with blood red lining around the visor. Mando bypassed the bar and made his way directly to Joren's booth. Pulling out the chair next to him, the Mando sat down and looked directly to Joren.

“Dono.” Joren greeted his friend.

“Vod'ika.” Dono replied with a nod. “I have good news and bad news. The good news is...I found Kelsa.”

“And the bad news?” Joren asked, already knowing the answer.

“The Kaths have her at their bunker.” Dono confirmed Joren's fears.

“Well...” Joren said, pausing momentarily. “What are we waiting for?” He finished as he got to his feet.

“You do realize that if we do this, we won't be able to stay. We'll have targets painted on our backs, not just from Kenso's crew, but from the Empire as well.” Dono told him bluntly.

“Dono, it's Kelsa.” Joren said as he began to walk away from the booth.

“Good, I was just making sure. Ib'tuur jatne tuur ash'ad kyr'amur.” Dono said as he followed Joren out of the front door.

After years of friendship with the Mandalorian, Joren had picked up a little Mando'a, and as he and Dono walked away from Jasteel's Cantina, probably for the last time, he knew that Dono had been right about one thing:

It was a good day for somebody else to die.

Transition was boring.

The act of travel, in any sense, was singularly-devoted towards arriving at a destination in which something of value may transpire. Without diversion, the mind goes to places unpleasant, as it would rather be anywhere other than here. It was only natural. This ship of his, the Cleaving Tusk, had neither diversion nor any intention of such a frivolous activity to be engaged in the first place. Spend his time focused on a waste of time during which his time was already used in getting to the place where his focus would rather be? He'd rather sleep. In fact, that is what he did. The cockpit did little more than accommodate pilot in the basic of ways, and so the large Zabrak simply sat, arms crossed and apparently asleep to retain more energy for when he was arrived.

It was only when he jumped in that he became more active, yellow-orange eyes snapping open.

The smallish black craft had dropped out of hyperspace on the fringe of Coruscant's System, and as expected, what it would find there was a case of the planet being guarded by Imperial forces - ISDs with possible Interdictor craft that would've stalled an approach by hyperspace, anyway. - and...while he did not spot the opposing fleet of the Republic in the system at all...you didn't need the Force to figure out that they were waiting for their time to strike. Still, even if they were around, Tarak needed not worry much about detection yet. Not to say that the craft was invisible, but the Cleaving Tusk was something around the size of a long-range fighter, alone, and colored black. It would register on any scopes that were looking for anything significant, but he'd only be staying in range long enough to know they were there, and he wouldn't be large enough to be of importance. Not unless either thought he was a recon ship, in which case the chase after him might become more interesting later, but for now...he had his instructions.

Upon assessing the basic situation, he was to make make contact with his Master. Tarak operated the holocomm...



As opposed to a cloaked or hooded figure, as one might expect, the figure that appeared in the image was that of an undisguised man who looked like he might be in some sort of uniform. Sadly, you couldn't tell what kind or see his face because the picture was blurred at the source. Theoretically, anyone could be at the other end of it, but Tarak knew. He could feel it across the hyperwave, the chilling touch of the Force given off by the Sith who gave him life.

"Master Diabolus..."

"Mr. Tarak... I trust you have assessed the situation with your own eyes?"

"I have."

"Your thoughts?"

"A battle is waiting to happen, though much of it will be in space, for a while."

"It is for such a purpose I designed that ship. Should it be required for combat, at least your vehicle of choice would be considered quality."

"Indeed. It is a pity the additions I wanted were not included."

"Vibroblading wings are not EXACTLY an efficient means of attack, Tarak. I shall see about an upgraded ship in due course, but in the meantime, you shall make planetfall and make Coruscant your battlegrounds. If there are any Jedi who wish to reclaim the planet, they will flock to this place, the sentimental fools. And if you find any Sith there bound by that outdated Rule of Two, no mercy. Sidious was a fool to cling to that notion and I WILL murder all who defy our purpose, especially with such pathetic reasonings hindering them."

Of course, having to kill a Sith who won't break with tradition WAS technically aiding in that tradition, but it was the Master's intention to wipe that notion out for the sake of the Dark Side's survival. There was only so much one could take, and the next generation needed to be guided properly.

"Will there be anything else?"

"No. You can appeal to the sitting ruler if you wish, perhaps put him in a position to grant certain resources in return for our favor, but otherwise exercise your will until desperation forces them to consider things OUR way..."

With nothing further to say, Tarak would take his ship to find a way to sneak on by into Coruscant's atmosphere, perhaps even undetected if he did so well.

>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>>



Transition was fruitful.

Corellian Freighters weren't much to look at, but they were spatious and had accommodations probably better than her own. Actually, hers weren't so bad, but it was the little things that you miss. For instance, the fact that the ship HAD a shower and that Goggles - Bless his little tubby self. - had no problems letting her use the ship's water supply for how ever long it took her to get properly clean was definitely a godsend. Of course, he insisted, due to his nose being offended, but it was still a decent gesture, all told. This said everything, really. How much she missed being around people, how much she had deprived herself, how much this change was necessary... But even as she relaxed and cleaned, Singe still could not remove that involuntary shudder from the incident, the water cascading over her, reminding the Slicer of her time in the bacta tank, back then. She couldn't see the old scar on her back, but she knew it was there.

It was later, when Singe was dressed and back in her gear again, that she heard the clatter of something moving in the duct work. She was browsing the hypernet when this happened. There was no way that the Tynnan had vermin on this ship, 'cause he was small enough to follow them into all the nooks and crannies, so- Wait, that's actually him, isn't it? This was soon confirmed by him attempting to make conversation.

"So uhh...since we got a while before we hit Nar Shaddaa, why the change?"

"You're not spying on me, are you?"

"Nah, nothin' like that. I'd lose a good client that way. I get curious, that's all."

"I guess I can understand that."

"You ain't my type, if that's what's bothering you."

"I wouldn't think so."

"Yeah, so...answers?"

"It's going to get harder to predict Imperial actions with the Empire fragmenting. I need to be closer to the action, now that they're hurting. In the meantime, I'm keeping my eyes open. I'm not really gonna be much of a talker for some hours."

"Alright, I'll leave you to it. Shouldn't be much longer a wait."

More ductwork scampering was heard as Goggles left her area. His race could be so strange, sometimes...

Piercing eyes gazed out into the depths of space, seemingly measuring the stars themselves for their worth. Many of those stars carried rocks filled with people in them, some more than others, but that simply made the star more valuable. An odd way to think about them like that, but when you were searching for the people, on the rocks that happened to orbit those stars... They begin to peak your interest.

"Bosslady, have you really looked into this character? Are you sure she's the girl you want? I'm sure we can find any other splicer, I mean, i'm not too terrible with it, surely-" "No. She's the one." Alena cuts her off flatly, her gaze still centered on the stars. "Well... Aly, can you at least give me a hint of a plan? There's almost no info on this girl, all we have is reported names, reported locations, past acts on the Empire, how are you going to find this girl. And why is she worth the effort?" Alena stares into the vastness of space for a few seconds more, then turns to face her trusted pilot and ship engineer.

"I know this type." She leans toward the ship computer, scrolling through the data file, before ending on the reported terrorist acts of this Singe. "There are many domestic terrorists against the Empire, however... they mainly go against vital supply lines, infrastructure or VIP's of the empire. But this girl... goes after death. Almost every act has high casualties, this girl makes sure to end many lives of the empire with each act. She may just really hate the empire, or perhaps have an odd fetish, but i'm willing to believe in something else. A broken girl who's lost much because of the Empire and seeks to end everyone responsible. so that they can find some purpose. When they see a stormtrooper, they don't see a poor man conscripted to feed his family, they see the boots of the empire, sent to oppress, murder and devastate all in their way. This girl won't stop, just because of the Emperor's death, if anything it would encourage her to do more, as her job just got easier. This is a woman who will not stop until all of the Empire is systematically taken apart... And that is exactly what I need."

"Nice monologue but I fail to see how this helps us find her." The Umbaran pilot cuts in, frowning at the bounty hunter. "I was getting to that." The bounty hunter quickly snaps back, scrolling through the computer terminal. "This woman is one of the best splicers on this side of the galaxy and from what I know from splicers, they almost always prefer an... urban environment. They want to be surrounded by things they can control and prefer to hide in the shadows of concrete rather than a forest. Which narrows the search, but... not by much. Which is why we need the others to help us. Fate, create a list of urban planets and send it to the ship database." The R6 unit beeps in compliance, quickly accessing the ship computer with it's multi-tool. "Kina, I need you to look into each planet on that list, and look for imperial, Hutt of local law enforcement databases, look for any recent mentions of any of Singe's aliases, look for any recent splicer-attacks. This girl may think she can hide from the world, but she can't hide from me."

The TIE fighters dropped out of the hangar of the Resolute screaming, three in a wedge formation. Commander Rolsh' moved his hands over the consoles before him. Some sensor officer aboard one of the outlying ships picked up on some anomaly coming from outside the system. Rolsh keyed in several commands, his ship actively scanning. He could pick up the anomaly himself but it wasn't detecting it clearly. "Besh-5-2, you picking up anything?"

"Nothing on scope, just the same anomaly as before."

"Wait, I've got something." The harsh voice of Besh-5-3 cut through the comm channel.

Rolsh paused. "Go ahead." He looked at his console as the data was sent through. There was some kind of transmission coming from a fixed point, no it was moving. Moving fast towards the planet. He looked out the viewport as they got closer, stars disappearing behind something. A stealth ship. Painted to avoid physical detection. Flipping switches and turning nobs he started to broadcast on an open channel. "This is Besh-5-Leader of the Grand Imperium Navy. You have entered Imperium Space unlawfully, state your name and business or be fired upon."

The elevator ride up to Lord Ozell’s office was a silent one as Dredar patiently waited for it to reach its destination. As it rose he gently lifted his helmet off his head and examined it. The Force user turned the visor towards his head and stared at a small but noticeable scratch on the upper right side. That had been where it impacted against the walkway when he dropped it in the vault of Sith artifacts. He barely even remembered doing it, it was as if he had been momentarily entranced as soon as he noted one of the ancient masks worn by a long dead Sith lord. The head of the Imperial Knights could not turn his eyes away from it, he could still feel the vibrations of the dark side emit inside his mind. Though they were far weaker than when he stood in the room of artifacts.

Then Dredar clipped the helmet to his belt as the elevator stopped before its doors slid open automatically. He emerged into a short hallway which led to the Imperial Lord’s office. Two of the imposing battle droids that Ozell favored were stationed outside of it. As he approached the door he gave both the machines a brief but cold glance. Neither one seemed to even look at him as the door came open right as he stepped in front of it. As the man stepped through he looked briefly around the office. Ozell had always been a pragmatic man, in the years that Dredar had known him he never struck him as one to splash credits on vane decorations.

“Lord Imperium, I am here as you summoned me. What do you ask of me?” Dredar asked calmly, as he bowed briefly to his respected superior and long time acquaintance.

Koren turned from the window and nodded back at the Knight Commander. At first Koren had been unsure on whether or not to have them within the command structure, where they would fit and how it would work. Though the Imperial Knights were fast becoming one of his most effective and popular assets. Their numbers were still few, but with most of their efforts focused on Coruscant many of the people who hadn’t felt the protection of the law for years were now feeling safe and secure. He just knew to keep his eye on them, he may not have been able to touch the Force he had seen enough non-force wielders get power hungry and those with the Force had an advantage he’ll never know.

“Privacy mode.” The windows went from clear to opaque and there was a clunk at the door as it locked, a low hum started to permeate the room. Sitting at his desk he indicated for the Knight Commander to sit as well.

“I’m sending you on a diplomatic mission to meet with a former Imperial Task Force that should be somewhere in the region of Mygeeto. Spies in the region seem to think that they have aligned themselves with a new form of Confederacy. I would like you to try and establish some form of diplomatic alliance with them.” He sighed as he leant forwards. “I won’t lie to you Dredar, while we are moving from strength to strength we cannot hold off the New Republic should they continue to advance. Now we can’t deal with them, too many of the Old Guard would see that as capitulating to the Rebel Alliance, and would only offer authority to the group that got the Emperor and Darth Vader killed. Instead, by joining forces with other groups I hope that we can project enough strength to make them think twice about attacking us. If they come to us with a negotiation, it shows strength. We just need to get our forces to that point, starting with the Confederacy.” He sat back waiting for the Knight Commander's response.

Dredar listened silently as Ozel informed him of his mission. It was the first real information he’d heard of the resurgent Confederacy. The mention of them brought up memories from his days fighting in the Clone Wars against their droid armies. While the leadership of the original confederacy had been slain it appeared they too had been reborn, much like the Empire had been. If they aligned with the Imperium then they would stand as a formidable ally, the Lord’s words did ring with logic as they always seemed to.

“A diplomatic mission like this should be an interesting experience. It is wise to make our position known to this Confederacy before they grow further. The rebels could stand as a threat to them too.” He stated calmly, proud to be sent as an important representative for the Imperium. It was different from his usual missions, reminiscent of the tasks Jedi of old often handled.

“The rebels believe they have the advantage. I wouldn’t put it past those scum to try a bold attack against the Imperium.” He added cautiously, the anger evident in his tone as he spoke. Dredar always felt the rage fire up inside of him when he thought of how the rebels killed the Emperor and Lord Vader.

“Do you have any specific instructions or advice for me for these negotiations, sir?” He asked the typically well informed head of the Imperium.

Koren nodded along. “No. Try to deal directly with the former Imperials, I’m not entirely sure who is leading their operation though I know the Juno was stationed to a battlegroup out there, there was some form of mutiny after Endor so we’re not entirely sure who has taken command nor if they are anti-Imperial sympathisers. So I’d recommend taking a squad, take Dark Troopers if you wish. I’m assigning you the personal command of the Nightfury. Raider Class, upgraded to the mark two and brought up to modern standards. Go in, negotiate and see if they’d be willing to deal, find out what they want if they do. We can’t offer manpower, but we have ships and production facilities, droids, credits and raw resources. Once you know what it will take contact me directly, and we’ll see about making it happen.”

“Understood, it shall be done, Lord Imperium.” Dredar replied with a nod, somewhat surprised to find himself given command of a larger ship for the mission. But it would come much more in handy than his TIE fighter if the negotiations went catastrophically south.

The Knight Commander hoped the rebels had not already reached out to negotiate with the reborn Confederacy. That would add another, complicated layer to the mission. He still harbored a great deal of fury against this unjust ‘New Republic’ which was built upon the graves of millions of loyal Imperials. But Dredar could not allow such thoughts interfere with the negotiations. Such matters required a calm, delicate hand.

Koren stood up. “Very good. I knew I could rely on you-” He stood up, though as he started to turn away he paused. “-I’d like you to station two Knights here before you go. I know typically I find it better for them to be off doing their own duties though with the rebels closing in I can’t dispel the possibility of them using some underhanded tactics in order to take us down from the inside. They have proven they’re willing to target the leadership to destabilise before a major offensive, lets not let them make the same move twice.”

There was still the report on his desk, detailing Dredars recent venture into vaults previously locked since Palpatine left for Endor. He’d keep an eye on it. “If there is nothing else, go meet your crew and get underway.”

“Certainly, sir. Most of the knights are out seeking new recruits in Imperium space or training them. I shall have knights Myla Alycorr and Vero Shif stationed here at your request immediately. Both are two of our finest newly anointed knights. They will not disappoint you, Lord Imperium.” Dredar stated assertively, then bowed once more to the leader of the Imperium. The Knight Commander concluded their briefing as he walked out of the Lord Imperium’s office without further words.

As he exited the office he strolled towards the elevator as he passed by the same droids from before. Once again he paid them no attention as he silently stepped inside the elevator. Dredar’s mind was on his assignment to Mygeeto, the frigid world located in the unpredictable Outer Rim territories. During the Clone Wars it was the site of a fierce battle though Dredar did not participate in it during his time fighting. The mention of the Clone Wars made him think of his old master, Vavi Mitrin. Dredar liked to think the wise Mirialan would be proud of his padawan’s will to survive and adapt in the unpredictable galaxy.

“Squads, Obsidian, and Eson are to remain on launch standby. The Blackstar has received an distress call from a civilian liner, possible battle ahead. No further details, sorry.”

‘No further details.’ The comms officer’s briefing had said before cutting off, simple, concise, and completely useless. He could only assume it was pirates again, except this skirmish was unplanned, unlike the last. Liam shook his head, under the helmet and inside the dark cockpit of his TIE-fighter nobody could tell he was getting nervous. After all, there wasn’t anybody alive who liked fighting the unknown only hours apart. Then the team radio crackled on.

“Obsidian squad, prep engines and charge weapons, we’ll likely be coming out hot so keep your eyes open and your hands loose.” Obsidian-1, Ben Jenson, had said in a firm voice like always.

“Hey, Captain, got any ideas what we’ll be shooting at?” Maran, Obisidan-6, had asked, fully knowing he knew as much as Ben did.

“Hopefully it’s a fleet of rebels.” Obsidian-4, Blanche Krail, had said in a sinister, blood-thirsty voice. Often seen as cold and creepy by most people, he had even paler skin than Liam and silver hair, and red eyes; giving others the opinion that he was a ghost.
“No way, the Blackstar would be torn apart if it was a whole fleet.” Maran had replied flippantly.

“That’s fine isn’t it? Fiery rebel debris everywhere, laser bolts in all directions, a target rich environment means we don’t have to aim! Just imagine if there was atmosphere, ahhh, just imagine the smell, burnt rebel X-Wings so early in the morning!” Blanche had replied in half growl half galactic basic, gradually getting louder until he was yelling into his mic. The rest of the squad had simultaneously muted him around the middle.

“Never mind, Blanche is way scarier.” Maran said sheepishly.

Liam smiled under his helmet. This is Obsidian squad, business as always.

“Alright, like the Captain said, we go out hot and fast, weapons blazing!” Obsidian-2, Jarael shouted. If anybody was asleep before they were awake now.



The bridge of the Blackstar was the standard layout for an Imperial-II class star destroyer. Two data pits submerged to the sides of a central walkway with wide windows at the front of the room. The Captain stood above them all, a purposeful symbol, occasionally staring out at the hyperspace around them, and then staring back down at her hands tapping away at her datapad.

Despite their earlier misgivings, the entire bridge crew could tell she was dedicated, and she hadn’t been defeated yet. As it was, the Blackstar was as operational as the day it flew out of Kuat, and perhaps the younger officers were even slightly motivated by her mere presence; whatever that meant.

“Captain, we’re receiving a distress call, a civilian frigate is under attack!” One of the officers below called out.

“By whom, and where?” The Merril asked, as she walked closer to him. They were currently near the inner rim, could pirates really be this brazen?

“Point two-five parsecs from Arbya, no further details. The message is interrupted almost immediately.”

“A short detour, readjust course, for Arbya. Standby fighter squadrons Obsidian and Eson. Charge weapons.”

“Aye, Ma’am.” The comms officer said and started speaking into his headset again.

The wavy blue background of hyperspace relented, long enough to turn slightly, then the stars and space ‘melted’ before them as they jumped back into hyperspace. Captain Merril walked towards the sensor operators so she wouldn’t need to go far if she needed to borrow their screens. But the fact remains that she’d have to rely on how fast they talked.

I’d like to have this damn bridge remodeled, too exposed, and too uncomfortable. Only a person with cybernetic legs could find this satisfactory. Merril grumbled in her mind.

A few moments later the stars snapped back into reality, and the entire bridge crew stood surprised. Another Star Destroyer had apparently arrived before them, responding to the ship in distress.

Looks like our work is finished. Merril thought, but she had an odd feeling. She’d like to call it ‘Captain’s instinct’, it felt like someone was scratching the back of her brain, and gripping her heart.

The ship in question was as pristine as the Blackstar on the outside, and there didn’t seem to be any large debris floating around. The cruise liner was red, and significantly smaller; probably about 5 decks tall and maybe a few dozen meters across. It was slowly drifting towards the other ship.

“Sensors, tell me what’s happening.”

“Ma’am, it seems the ISD-Warhead is towing the ship in. The civilian ship has maximum engines on, probably trying to fight it.” A woman in the left datapit answered.

“More! Any debris, signs of battle?” Merril shouted with suspicion, she had taken her ponytail in one hand and had begun fidgeting with it, an unconscious motion she made when thinking under stress.

“None, ma’am..” The sensor operator seemed to understand what Merril was thinking.

“Captain, incoming holotransmission from the Warhead.” The commsman on the other side said.

Merril nodded and walked to the back of the bridge and pressed a series of buttons near the rear wall. A moment later a lanky man with a sharp and slender face appeared, it seemed like he was sizing her up, the way a predator would look at prey. A look she had seen many times conversing with older officers. The man’s head looked sideways, nodded, and looked back at her.

“Blackstar, why have you arrived?” He said, raising an eyebrow, as if she was the suspicious one.

“Warhead, we received a distress call, likely from that ship you’re towing, and came. What’s the situation?” Merril answered calmly, taking the time to size him up too. An artificial widow’s peak, clean shaven, and the way he stood; it seems this man was trying to copy the intimidating presence of the late Tarkin, obviously trying to intimidate her.

That wouldn’t work in a million years, not unless you had Vader and the Emperor with you.

“No situation, Blackstar, as you can see, it has been handled.” The man answered with disdain, then his eyebrows raised and lowered as if remembering something.

“Tell me, whom do you serve?”

“Serve? The Grand Imperium on Coruscant, of course.” Merril said, and then regretted it.

Only one reason he’d ask that, he’s a warlord..

“I understand-“ The man nodded, and then uttered some false words of regret before cancelling the call. But Merril had stopped listening and had already started moving.

“Raise shields, combat alert!” She shouted as she ran back towards the datapits. The ship shook slightly as green lights flashed from across space. She had been quick, but her officers hadn’t, several blackened marks painted the sides of the Blackstar before a wavy blue aura intercepted the succeeding waves.

The defensive officer was slow, my fault, I’ll more run drills later.

“Fighter control brief the fighters, then launch! Gunners target their engines and weapons systems respectively! Navigator, flank speed, get us around, I want their engines!” Merril started barking orders and the bridge got to work, talking through their stations and to each other to coordinate. It had been awhile since they even had simulated combat against another destroyer. The last time they had been ‘destroyed’, but last time was under old management.

“Ma’am, not the bridge?” The weapons officer had meekly asked.

“No.” She replied curtly. Self-defense was one thing, but she didn’t want to take so many Imperial lives, and she hoped she would never have to.



“Repeat, the enemy is a rogue Imperial Star Destroyer, the Warhead. They’re launching as well, prepare to intercept fighters! Priority, disable the Warhead, but don’t forget to protect your mothership!” The bridge officer went silent as soon as he was done.

Liam felt his eyes widen, and his body had started shaking at some point.

We’re fighting other Imperials? Can I do it? Are they hesitating like me, they have to be, right?

Obsidian-1 didn't want the enemy to control the mood and activated the team comms a few moments later.

“Alright, listen up squad, disable means we don’t have to kill. The Blackstar will likely be trying to get around, any damage we can do to the engines will help, but since we’ll be getting in their faces, we also have a shot of their turbo lasers. They aren’t accurate enough or fast enough to hit out fighters so don’t be afraid!” Ben Jenson started directing his own orders.

“Captain, t-the fighters? What about the fighters!” Liam blurted out, half-panicked, half-confused. The simulations didn't really cover this eventuality, even simulated missions never felt like this.

“Weren’t you listening?” Blanche hissed back at him.

“Disable! Hit the solar wings, or graze the engines. You know your ship’s weaknesses, so use them, stupid!”

“Hey Liam, you take so much pride in those custom engines of yours, now’s the time to show them off to another ship!” Maran added on. Liam breathed slowly and then nodded, a motion unnoticed by the rest of the squad.

“Right, I’ll fly circles around them!” Liam shouted enthusiastically, built back up by his teammates. This was why and how they won so many battles together.

“Ohh, that’s right, those silly engines of his. You should have just switched to an int like the rest of us. Hey if you get shot down, you gotta buy my next meal, got it?” Jareal taunted him.

“Hah! No way, you eat way too much to be a woman, and I won’t be trading out any time soon!”

The hangar doors opened a moment later, and Obsidian squad started flying out one by one simultaneously with Eson squad. They weren’t likely to be fighting too close together, but it was reassuring to know he had more friends out there.

_Vandor

---

The trick to a low drop was always in the landing. Unfortunately, landing on a snowy mountain made the usual landing tactics a bit more difficult. Dev realized this the hard way as the LZ was rapidly approaching. With two slight pulls on his parasail, Dev was able to readjust his entry and come to a roll right on a more level bit of the mountain. The harness, detecting a landing, automatically cut the cords and began burning up any evidence. Dev hated to waste good credits on a landing like this, but they were a bit pressed for time. After brushing the snow off of the sleeves of his artic fatigues, Captain Dev Arx tightened his grip around his A310 blaster rifle and began trudging through the calf-deep snow to begin scoping out vantage points.

After about forty minutes of grueling work, and a series of updates over his comlink from a rather annoyed Hit, Dev removed his pack and dug it into the snow a few meters away from his vantage point. There was a small outcropping near the frozen sea that had good sight-lines to the best vantage spots around the mountain ridge. What Dev was setting up, however, was something that Captain Stim had taught him years ago. The commando was first setting his A280-CFE into it's sniper variant. On top of his pack, however, Dev set up a second scope. If the enemy saw the reflection off of one scope (or what appeared to be a huddled mass that could be humanoid for a moment), they would likely see the other. Worst case, it gave you a 50% change of an opposing sniper shooting the wrong target. Best case, it would intimidate enemy forces by artificially inflating the threat they were facing. At least, that's what Captain Stim had always said. Granted, the Captain also said that alcohol cleaned your teeth, so he might not have been right about everything. As Dev began to dig himself into position, he reached for his comlink. "Dart-1 is in position, and the LZ is clear of snowmen. Set the bird down and send word to the target, over."

With brief acknowledgement over the comlink, the Captain watched as The Forward Thrust approached the opposite side of the mesa and landed below. This was, of course, followed by the waiting game. After about twenty minutes of silence, Dev's ears perked up as he heard the familiar sound of a sublight engine echoing in the distance. A sheathipede-class shuttle emerged from over the mountain ridge and approached the mesa below. Dev's first instinct was to do a quick pass over the front of the shuttle. To his relief, it was unarmed. Minister Kaal's story was holding up so far. The Captain watched as the shuttle landed on the opposite side of the Mesa below from DART's transport, and only two individuals were waiting by the shuttle. Greeting those figures were Rexa and Hit from The Forward Thrust. From his comlink, he could hear the discussion going on down on the mesa below. But that was of little concern to Dev, whose eyes were hard-trained on the mountain ridge.

Maybe it was the incessant drone that dulled Dev's hearing. Or maybe it just wasn't what it used to be. Regardless, Dev was caught off-guard by the loud sound of roaring behind him. By the time the Captain was able to look over his shoulder, an Action IV transport was already rapidly approaching. Unlike the shuttle in the mesa below, the rapidly approaching freighter was clearly armed with laser cannons and piecemeal armor plating. The Republic commando quickly grasped his comlink and shouted, "Tangos incoming. Get back to the ship."

The confusion in the following moments was clear. The small assembly on the Mesa below split apart, with one figure ducking into the shuttle while the other three began legging it across the icy terrain. Dev let his sniper rest on the ground next to where he was lying and grasped the A310 slung on his back. It wasn't a particularly bright plan, but he knew he could buy a bit of time. The Republic Commando began firing at the approaching transport, the faint sounds of blaster bolts impacting against the shielding growing louder with every second. The approaching transport veered off to the right, seemingly thrown off by the sudden blaster fire. Of course, it wouldn't throw the hounds off the scent. But it did give enough time for Arx's crew to get back to the ship. While the sublight engines of the pursuit craft were firing up, Dev watched as the Action transport was sizing up for another pass at the mesa in the distance. Luckily, one of Dev's team must have been ready for that. As the hostile ship emerged over the mountain ridge, The Forward Thrust's top-mounted turret began firing. The shots went wide, but were enough to force yet another wide pass on behalf of the Action transport. The Minister's shuttle used this as an opportunity to take off in the other direction. As DART's ship began its initially slow ascent, the Action transport and the shuttle seemed to have disappeared. For now, the coast was clear.

The Forward Thrust pulled up along the section of ridge Dev was gathering his gear on. Once he was packed up again, A280 back in pistol form and A3100 in hand, Dev made a running leap onto the boarding ramp of his ship. Hit was by the entrance, there to support the Captain as he jumped on. Standing in the center chamber of the ship was a Rodian dressed in furs. His lips curled into a small smile as he nodded upon the Captain's arrival. That smile faded as Dev calmly walked past the diplomat like he wasn't even there. He was busy mounting his weapons in their proper slots in the makeshift armory, but spoke up over his shoulder. "You have something you want to tell us, Minister Kaal?"

The Rodian looked confused as Hit approached the cockpit, and Dev emerged from the armory. He had removed his outer coat, and had his hands resting upon his belt right near the handles of two vibroblades. The Rodian quickly shook his head and responded in a tongue that Dev wasn't familiar with.

"Kesslar's bandits." Rexa emerged from the cockpit, a sour expression on her face as she approached the Captain. "A local mercenary band working with the Remnant forces here on Vandor. Minister Kaal here was telling me how they've been harassing government officials for weeks."

Dev sighed, lifting a hand to his right temple. "So we've got Imperials and Mercs to worry about? Great."

The Rodian began speaking quickly, directing his speech to Rexa passionately. The Twi'lek turned to her Captain. "Minister Kaal has valuable intelligence regarding a shipment being made by the Imperial Remnant to the Core worlds. Supposedly the Colonel in charge of the Imperial forces here is trying to make an impassioned plea for a way out of this system and to the Grand Imperium. But Minister Kaal needs something from us first."

Dev sighed as he gave a short nod, turning his back to the others and shaking his head. "We've got to take care of Kesslar?"

"We've got to take care of Kesslar."