ISD-Blackstar(Hangar)

Throughout the spacious hangar the sounds of equipment beeping, mechanical hydraulics ratcheting, along with technical jargon of all kinds, and the buzzing sound of maintenance droids providing clean up. Several teams of mechanics surrounded the civilian cruiser, the Overseer, with some of them going in and out, apparently doing what they could to get it under its own power again.

There were a few other starfighters on the deck being worked on, like what Liam was doing with one of the Interceptors; he had already attached a red stripe to the wing, about the most surface level customization they could get. But he wasn’t alone, he was talking to a recently made friend about his future adjustments. Torian Perev, a middle-aged man with bushy blond hair, sideburns reaching down to his chin, and grim covering his face, had offered his services.

“I don’t hate it, but the old TIEs did good work, even now, you can feel the speed when you push that throttle all the way forward.” Liam said, nodding to his own words as he unhooked a panel from beside his new ship’s cockpit. “Hypospanner.”

“From the Interceptor’s stats, you should be able to feel even more speed. Plus the Ion injectors are twice as fast.” Torian said, handing over an elongated tool as he knelt beside Liam. “I don’t see why you’re so attached, the old TIEs were good 15 years ago, you’re way too young to be hung up on them.”

Torian removed another panel, allowing dozens of wires to hang in between, while the man himself went prone underneath with another tool and started adjusting some unseen part. Liam himself had used a crane like device to remove the exhaust cylinders from the interceptor and went to work himself. A half hour went by as the two switched from talking shop, to personal items before another figure approached them. Liam and Torian were both so caught up they hadn’t even noticed until they said something.

“Excuse me!”

“Huh?” Liam pulled himself away, wiping sweat away with his off-hand, and faced the new voice; while a muffled thump and a grumble of pain came from somewhere underneath the ship. The new voice was a woman, with brown hair running down her back, and bright emerald eyes. Liam scanned the newcomer, he and Toran wore their respective uniforms, but this woman was wearing much more casual clothes with bright colors.

“One of the passengers of that cruiser?”

“Shara Fenar.” She nodded.

“Ma’am, this is a restricted area, where’s your escort?” He asked suspiciously. It was common knowledge that the larger ventral hangar was off-limits so their ship could be repaired, and for starfighter maintenance. Consequently, the starboard hangar had been rearranged to be a temporary civilian barracks. But this wasn’t the starboard hangar.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to thank the pilots who saved us. The trooper watching me is over there.” She turned and waved. A few officers between her and the primary hangar entrance did a double take, but nobody waved back. There was, however, a stormtrooper standing by the door.

“He just let you, nobody stopped you?” Liam blinked dubiously, looking at the trooper, and the other officers near the back.

“Well, he argued a little, but I kept asking and he let me. I just wanted to tell you we’re all glad you saved us.” She smiled at him, and he felt a sense of warmness. It wasn’t often he was thanked, especially so personally.

“All part of the service, ma’am.” He said with his own thankful grin and a tilt of his head. “Speaking of which, do you know why they attacked in the first place?”

“W-well, seeing as how you’re Imperial, I was hoping to ask you. But if you don’t know either…” She started to look down, so Liam interrupted.

“You’ll be safe now, we’re pretty close to Coruscant by now, and we’ll let you all off there.” He said as reassuringly as he could.

“Thanks.” She said with an appreciative smile, then turned towards the door and left with the trooper only a moment later. The air seemed to change somehow, now that Shara had left, and Torian rolled out from underneath.

“Shara hmm, quite the eye catcher, if I say so myself.” Torian said with a smirk while Liam shrugged.

“Spend a lot of time with Maran, have you?”

“Just an observation Lieutenant, back to work.” Torian smiled, then tapped his tool against the underside of the ship with a clink, and rolled back under.

“Working on another fighter?” Another voice approached him, but this one he recognized. Dao Murren, a pilot from another squad.

“Squeezing a little more speed out of your ship isn’t going to matter in the long run. There are so many of us, after all.” He continued in a seemingly condescending tone.

“It couldn’t hurt, sometimes it’s the flying, sometimes it’s our numbers.” Liam extended a hand towards the man, and Dao took a shake.

“Well I believe Sienar knows what they built.” Dao said with a grin.

“What Sienar built just isn’t sensitive enough sometimes.” Liam raised his brows and slapped the hull of ship hard with a muffled thump.

“If you think you know better than a multi-million credit entity, maybe you could fix my ship too?” Dao asked and leaned himself onto one of the wings.

“No thanks.” Liam flicked his hand at Dao. “Next thing you know I’m servicing the whole ship.”

“I think you mean me.” Torian said from underneath the fighter.

ISD-Blackstar (Detention Area)

The detention area was at contrast with the rest of the ship. Throughout the ship the lighting was bright white, black reflective flooring, and wide spaces. But the cell-block area was narrow, dark-red lighting shone behind panels and underneath through the floor grating. She didn’t visit often, the ship didn’t see much action, and it saw even less prisoners. But today had given her more than enough reason, a traitor had risked the lives of three starships today, and she had to know why.

As soon as she stepped out of the lift an officer greeted her, he was of course informed beforehand and awaited her.

“Captain.” He saluted, the guards at the entrance of the cell corridor repeated the gesture. “I’ve been notified. Captain Bellus is in Cell one, awaiting you. Two stormtroopers will follow you in, along with an interrogator droid should you need it.”

Merril nodded and the officer turned and led the way into the cell-corridor. They didn’t have to go far, it was a short walk to the first cell, and the interrogator droid was floating off to the side; the officer opened the cell with a quick touch on a side panel.

Inside there was a thinly built man sitting hunched over on the bench, his head immediately shot upwards to see his visitor. Soot covered his body and face, likely a result from both the ship battle, and the droid. His eyes were red around the edges, subtle bags had formed under his eyes, and his hair was misshapen. All in all, he looked like a mess; Merril smiled.

She motioned the troopers inside and stepped in after them, with the floating black ball following in after them.

“How are your accommodations?” She said smugly. Bellus breathed in deeply, swept his hair back with a single hand, and tried to stand up. He made it halfway before Merril flicked her wrist, and a stormtrooper slammed the butt of his rifle into Bellus’ shoulder.

“Sit.” Merril said with a smile. She didn't delight in pointless violence, but this deserved.

Bellus grunted and leaned into the bench while nursing his shoulder. “Imperial hospitality has changed. But it will be better for me, than you, I suspect.”

“Why would you defect from the Empire?” Merril said, ignoring his obvious and powerless threat. Bellus’s face crinkled as he heard the question.

“It’s falling apart, we’ve lost hundreds of planets to terrorists, and the Grand Imperium is a joke.” Bellus said with disdain.

“Many of the former Emperor’s pet projects lay abandoned or failed dramatically, like the Death Stars. And what do we do? We patrol, we respond, we don’t counterattack! What rebel planets have we taken, what star systems have we laid to waste? Nothing, we do our best to ‘maintain’. Our late emperor and his fist must be spinning in their graves.” Bellus then smiled and started laughing. “No, my apologies, orbiting! Our foolish Emperor and his minion can’t even be recovered!”

Merril scowled as he joked at the memory of their former leader, the memory of the hundreds of thousands that died with the Death Stars, and then made the same motion from earlier. This time one of the troopers punched him straight in the face, drawing blood, and causing the man's head to recoil backwards into the wall making him shout in pain twice.

“Guh..” Bellus wiped at the blood trickling over his mouth.

“You lost faith, is that all it takes to push you over the edge?” Merril said with her own look of disgust. Bellus grunted and wiped at the blood again, forming a sizable stain on his uniform.

“No, the Empire needs someone who can be aggressive, someone who commands strength. We need to establish ourselves as a galactic power again, the Star Destroyers are no longer enough!”

“And you think that person, is you?”

“No.”

“Who then?”

Bellus smiled. “You can’t make me talk; you don’t have the heart for it.”

“We have a lot of time until we reach Coruscant. If you don’t talk until then, I’m sure the Grand Imperium’s more capable interrogators are up to the job.” Merril this time motioned another hand, this time the interrogator droid floated closer, and a thin arm extended.

"Doors about to open, sarge." The duros rifleman stated as he clenched onto his blaster tightly. Eensil squeezed his frame between the doorway and the wall, this not the idea situation to maneuver out of. Sargent Vale got down on one knee as she clenched a thermal detonator in her throwing hand. Private Vebbar took sight of the explosive and blinked.

"If this works I'll buy you all the damn Alderaan Twists I can afford." The medic joked as the door came open with a loud beep. As if timed with the exact moment the door came upon the explosive flew from Zena's hand. It rolled across the open hallway and drew the immediate attention of the stormtroopers waiting for the republic commandos.

"Grenade! Look out!" Hollered the nearest one to the detonator as he dove to his side down a hallway, his fellow troopers reacting while two of the unluckiest soldiers were caught in the blast.

"Push forward, blasters hot!" Zena exclaimed as she held her A280 firmly, her finger suppressing the trigger as shots range out. Vebb and Eensil did as they were ordered, as the hallway was filled with the chaos of a sudden firefight. The Duros tucked into a side doorway as the troopers returned fire. A second later he yanked a detonator of his own, flicked it on and flung it forward.

Another stormtrooper was caught in that blast, leaving four Imperials unable to properly return fire. Two of them blind fired from behind cover as a third popped into the center of the hall, ringing shots down the corridor. He was met with a rapid burst of laser fire to his gut, sending the trooper down and out of the battle. One of the remaining three drew his own thermal detonator, as he popped out of cover he heaved it a grunt. The explosive flew towards the trio of republic soldiers, as Zena hollered.

"Push forward! Then hit the deck!" Sargent Vale ordered as the trio sprinted forward, then dove for the floor as the explosive landed behind them. A moment later it ignited, momentarily deafening the commandos. Zena's head swiveled back as she heard Eensil holler in pain, noting the duros was holding onto his left leg.

"Fuck!" The rifleman exclaimed, his leg bloodied and bruised but otherwise in tact. He was lucky to not have lost it as he crawled to his side, towards another doorway as the remaining stormtroopers fired at their enemies. Zena quickly drew a smoke grenade, then rolled it in front of her. It filled the corridor with a heavy smog, blocking the view of the their opponents as their shots ran wildly through the hall.

"Vebb, help him. I'll hold off those bastards once the smoke clears." Zena ordered as she leaned into a doorway, with her blaster aimed directly where the stormtroopers had been.

The medic had survived the blast unscathed and now scrambled towards his wounded comrade. He pulled a bacta laced bandage from the kit on his belt, then wrapped it slowly across Eensil's calve, where the brunt of the damage was done. The bacta would cool then compress the injury, turning it from a potentially life threatening situation to a livable one. Walking would be a more complicated issue though, Eensil would go through absolute hell if he put weight on the leg.

"He's not gonna be able to walk ma'am, but he'll survive. Miracle he didn't lose the leg." The Mon Calamari medic stated as he shifted his friend to a more comfortable seated position against the doorway. The duros breathing deeply as the pain slowly alleviated from the battlefield injury.

"It was my fault, we should have tried the stairs. We were sitting ducks. I'll push forward and clear out these plastic heads, I need you to watch my six, Vebb." Sergeant Vale ordered as the smoke began to lessen, she blasted a single bolt through the wafting mist and struck the first stormtrooper she saw. Two remained.

"Stay right here Eensil, you'll be alright. Try not to move. We'll be right back." Vebb said calmly with a nod and a smile as he drew his own A280. He then tucked in behind their commanding officer as she peaked forward again.

A single stormtrooper peaked from the right side, as the soldier popped out to fire at Zena she squeezed the trigger first. A rapid burst of laser tore through the hallway, then dropped the trooper. His gloved hand twitched as he fired his own rifle, the ceiling marked with smoke from the wild shots. One single stormtrooper stood tucked behind the opposite wall, as the lead republic commando shifted forward the stormtrooper waited anxiously. He steeled his nerves, then took a deep breath under his helmet. Then the trooper shifted out from cover, knelt and unleashed a volley down the hallway. The blasts just barely missed hitting Zena as she dove to her side, the trooper had the vulnerable sergeant in his sights.

Then he hit the floor hard, a direct headshot dropping him with a whif of smoke. As Zena turned her head she saw the squad's medic smirking proudly. He just saved his sergeant's life. She owed him a drink for that one. The Aldeerani just shook her head with a smile of her own on her facial features as she pushed forward against the end of the corridor's wall. She took a quick peek around it, then her eyes widened as she made contact with one last straggler who promptly turned tail as he sprinted toards the communications room down the hallway. Intent upon sending a distress signal to the battalions of Imperials in the greater city.

"Stop him!" The lead commando shouted as she fired towards him, emptying her blaster in the running trooper's direction. The corridor was lit in an intense red as the bolts scattered through it, smoking the walls and floors. None made contact with the sole surviving stormtrooper as he sprinted through the doorway.

Zena ran as fast as her legs could carry her in hot pursuit of the trooper, the squad's medic following behind as he was late to arrive on the scene. As Sergeant Vale reached the room she heard a fiercely loud bang, then another. She practically stumbled through the doors to find the stormtrooper dead on the floor, surrounded by shattered glass. A large hole sat in the window above the communications panel, directly parallel to where Bima was. Their diminutive scout sniper had just saved the day. Another smile drew its way onto Zena's face as she spoke into her commlink.

"Command, this is Sargent Zena Vale of Vorn Tiger squad. We have successfully cleared and taken the old republic base on Utrost."

_{The Jedi Praxeum - Yavin IV}

---

Jaysin nodded towards the flight crew helping to prep the HWK-290 Light Frieghter for take-off as he readjusted the shoulder strap of his traveling pack. The Jedi Knight always traveled light, a byproduct of years of hiding. He had only brought with him his bare essentials: rations, his lightsabers, extra cold weather gear, and a set of electrobinoculars. Of course, he usually also had at least one constant companion.

As if on cue, an older R3 droid zoomed down the loading ramp of the HWK, whirring and chirping up a storm as the Jedi Knight approached. The R3 droid was whirring about the same thing, over and over, for a couple days now. \ Frozen wastelands... best location for landing... Planes Southwest of the Jedi Sanctuary... Plotting flight coordinates... / Jaysin simply sighed as he approached his long time companion, kneeling down next to the droid as it stopped in front of him.

"R3... I need you to remain calm, old friend. Upload your flight plan to the on-board computer, and then power yourself down. I'll wake you when we arrive." R3 seemed to be a tiny bit more calm as he slowly rolled his way back onto the ship, and Jaysin rose back to his feet. However, he could instinctively detect a presence behind him. "Shass..."

The Mirialan walked past Jaysin and towards the loading ramp of the freighter, carrying two large traveling packs with her. The Jedi Knight quickly stepped forward and blocked the padawan's path, holding a hand out as a motion for her to stop. "It's just a brief recon mission. You need-"

"To make sure you don't get into too much trouble, I know." The Mirialan gave Jaysin a stern look as she walked past the Jedi Knight and into the freighter, speaking over her shoulder. "You know I'm ready to go out on assignments."

Jaysin shook his head as he walked into the freighter behind the padawan, setting his pack down in the cargo hold. "I know you're ready... it's just..."

"Just what?"

"It's not my decision, Shass. Master Skywalker will-"

"Master Skywalker will forgive us."

The two Jedi stood motionless for a moment before they both moved in clockwork without a word. They both made their way to the cockpit, with Jaysin taking the pilot's chair and Shass taking the co-pilot's seat. R3 was already powered down in the corner, and Jaysin gave a nod towards the flight crew that were giving the thumbs up from down below. And so, the Jedi Knight began tapping buttons and flipping switches as the loading ramp closed and the freighter slowly began to lift off the ground as the journey to rediscover Illum began.

Over the last few weeks, Malg’s worst nightmare had come to life. As the droid was pushing a cart full of explosive charges with his two stronger arms, he looked down at that accursed black cylinder on his chest.

A restraining bolt. The most horrific torment a droid could be exposed to. With that damn thing on his chest, Malg was forced to do whatever his superiors wanted. If they wanted him to kill himself, he’d have no choice but to do that. He couldn’t raise a hand against them, and he was literally on remote-control. How they got these damn things to work with every droid in the galaxy was beyond him, but they were dangerously effective. He couldn’t even access any of the weapons locked in his body: The restraining bolt pried open all of his compartments on command. He’d been forced to give away all his equipment like a good little slave.

It was goddamn humiliating. The bastards had even put it right over the Republic symbol painted on his torso, as if to mock him.

With his two original arms, he tried in vain to reach the accursed device and rip it off, but it was like attempting to swim through solid rock. His arms simply refused to obey his commands, producing an effect like he was pushing against a brick wall. And so he obediently pushed the cart full of explosives that could go off at any moment.

He was a droid. Just because he built himself from scraps didn’t change that. Doing jobs too dangerous or menial for organics was supposed to be his lot in life.

Malg despised the very notion. His whole life, he had attempted to avoid this fate. He had risen from a legless, amnesiac droid in a planet-sized junk heap to a successful doctor with his own business on Tatooine, and then a respected combat medic.

Only for it all to be undone when he got himself captured like a fool. He remembered it clearly. A mission that had gone wrong, leading to his unit being slaughtered, and those that were left surrendering. Lots of blasters were pointed in their faces, and he’d had that damn restraining bolt slapped on him as soon as he’d gotten on the transport ship.

The Imperial slicers had gotten to work on him after that, poking and prodding at his systems in an attempt to glean as much information as they could. A memory wipe was deemed too dangerous: He was a junk droid, and as junk droids were notoriously unstable, they feared the memory wipe would drive him into a murderous rage that not even the restraining bolt would stave off. So they ransacked his memory for everything they could and then sent him to the work camps.

His thoughts were interrupted by the sound of a tinny voice.

“You there, scrap droid! Move the cart faster!”

Malg stopped, turning his head to face the speaker. “I’m sorry, but would you rather I run into the cave and risk the dangerous explosives spilling all over the--”

“WHO SAID YOU COULD STOP PUSHING!?” the Imperial taskmaster screamed, running forward and smacking the droid with his stun baton. All the while, the restraining bolt on Malg’s chest attempted to make him follow his last order from a superior, forcing his body to attempt to keep pushing the cart...which failed miserably as thousands of volts of electricity coursed through his kludged-together systems, sending him to the ground.

This made Malg appear to struggle as he screamed, only leading the stormtrooper to keep hitting him more and more. Eventually, the restraining bolt itself temporarily shut down under the constant shocks to its systems. Malg was free, but wracked with pain, and finally stopped moving as a result.

The stormtrooper then screamed, “GET UP YOU LAZY BUCKET OF BOLTS! I’VE HAD WORSE THAN THAT IN BASIC TRAINING! GET BACK TO WORK!”

As Malg’s systems reeled from the shock of the glorified cattle prod he’d been beaten with repeatedly, the restraining bolt--a hardy piece of technology, given it was of Imperial make and explicitly meant to corral enemy droids when reprogramming was undesirable--came online once again.

His body got up. He didn’t. He wanted to stay on the ground. But the damn bolt made him get up.

As he pushed the cart away, he heard a fellow camp guard say something to the taskmaster.

“Was that really necessary? What if the electricity made the detonators go off?”

“A risk I had to take,” the taskmaster replied. “We have to exercise proper discipline in this camp. I can’t have a fucking droid mouth off to me. It might give the prisoners ideas.”

“Even so, he...kinda had a point--”

“No, he did not. Unlike you, I get this complaint a lot from inmates carting explosives, and I talked to the logistics guys. Those explosive compounds are stable. They won’t go off even if you shoot them with a blaster. You can only set them off by properly activating the detonator, putting in the access codes, and waiting a preset time. They’ll even refuse to detonate if an Imperial transponder is in the blast radius..”

Then, he screamed in Malg’s direction, “YOU HEAR THAT, JUNK DROID!? DON’T GIVE ME ANYMORE LIP ABOUT THOSE CHARGES EVER AGAIN OR YOU’LL GET WORSE THAN A STUN BATON!”

“Yes, sir,” Malg replied curtly, carefully hiding the sheer venom he felt.

When that restraining bolt was off, he would never wear one again. He would make sure of it.

Shortly after the Twilight Dreams touched down just outside of Mos Espa, Joren took his first steps off of the ship's boarding ramp and onto the sandy surface of Tatooine and was surprised by the scorching heat that greeted him. Although he had known that the desert planet was hot, he had not anticipated just how hot the planet truly was. As he led the others away from the ship, which they had landed on the outskirts of the city to avoid any attention being drawn to themselves, they decided to head into the spaceport to try and figure out exactly what it was that they were doing, and what their next move was.

Initially, Dono and Kelsa had been against coming to Tatooine. They both had argued that leaving one Hutt controlled world for another was not the best idea, and Joren could see their point. However, he had argued that it wasn't the Hutts that had chased them off of Nar Shaddaa, it was the Kath Hounds and the Empire, neither of which existed on Tatooine.

However, the truth was that Joren didn't know why he had suggested that they come to this planet. And even if he did, he didn't know that he could explain it to his friends. He wondered just how he could tell them that a voice had called out to him through the vastness of space and beckoned him to come. Though it hadn't been a voice that had called to him, had been more like a feeling. He knew that it sounded crazy and he couldn't explain it.

“So, where are we going?” Kelsa finally spoke up, breaking the silence.

“Mos Espa spaceport, it's what passes for a capitol city around these parts. Keep your heads down and try not to bring attention to yourselves-” Dono said without breaking stride. “-This place can be rough.”

“So, we should feel right at home.” Nyna said as they continued toward the spaceport, which appeared to shimmer before them in the heat.

Once inside the spaceport, they walked down the sandy streets passing numerous adobe style buildings and found themselves in an outdoor market place. They passed by the citizens of Mos Espa, many of whom had rough and weathered skin due to years of exposure to the desert elements and the twin suns, as well as numerous beings of various species who were mingling throughout the marketplace. Up ahead of them was a food stand which had a variety of what looked to be relatively freshly killed creatures strapped up on display, and while the critters didn't look all that appealing, the smell from the stand certainly was. The crew continued past the food stand a little ways and found themselves in front of a small eatery. The establishment, called Akim's Munch was a small diner with a number of tables inside, and several more outside around the side of the building. Used to watching his surroundings, Joren took note of the patrons that were sitting at the outside tables. There were several Weequay scattered among the tables as well as a few Bith. However, the one character that stood out was a lone Mon Calamari. The sight of the aquatic creature sitting alone at a diner on the desert planet struck Joren as ironic, if not outright odd. However, as strange as it was, Joren was just about to suggest they stop for a bite to eat when something else caught his attention.

Not far from the diner a group of Rodians had surrounded a young woman. Joren watched as the woman tried to get away from the reptile like aliens, only to be pushed back. There seemed to be a heated exchange by the young woman, who appeared to be about the same age as Joren and the others, and the Rodians, though Joren couldn't tell exactly what was being said.

“No, don't even think about it.” Nyna said as Joren began drifting toward the confrontation.

“We can't not do something.” Joren replied as he took another step towards the woman and her “friends.” Though Nyna knew that a public confrontation would draw attention to them, potentially even the attention of a Hutt who had connections to the crime lords of Nar Shaddaa, she also knew that Joren was right. Who knew what the Rodians wanted with the girl, and Nyna nor her friends were capable of standing by while they did whatever it was they had in mind for this girl.

“So much for keeping a low profile.” Nyna said as she followed Joren and Dono as they began walking towards the source of the confrontation. Joren and Nyna led the way as Dono and Kelsa followed close behind them.

“Hey, back off slagchucker!” Nyna exclaimed toward the Rodians as one of them shoved the slender young woman. The sudden outburst caused the Rodian thugs to turn their attention away from the young woman and to the intruders.

“Mind your business.” One of the Rodians said in broken basic as he stepped aggressively towards Nyna and Joren.

“Hey, no need for that friend. Take it easy.-” Joren said as he put his hands up toward the group of aliens with his palms facing forward. “-Now, let the girl go and we'll be on our way.”

“No, she has to pay for what she did. Now you leave or you pay too!” Another of the Rodians spoke up as Dono made his presence known, drawing a blaster.

“Sorry.-” Dono said as he came to a stop before the Rodians. “That's not going to happen.” He finished as he pointed his blaster at the Rodian who appeared to be in charge.

The Rodian reached for his blaster, however, before he could Dono fired to blast bolts into his chest. As the Rodian stumbled back and began to fall, one of the others rushed toward Nyna brandishing a durasteel club. He swung the club before anyone had a chance to react, hitting her in the head and knocking her to the ground.

“Nyna!” Joren shouted as he raised his blaster and opened fire on the Rodian with the club, hitting him several times in the upper arms and chest.

As the melee began, Kelsa ran toward the young woman who had been the target of the Rodians' ire and grabbed her and led her out of harm's way as Joren and Dono fought off the remaining Rodians. The fire fight was over before it really began. When the dust had settled, the six Rodians lay sprawled out in the street.

Joren holstered his weapon and made his way over to where Nyna lay. He bent down and slowly helped her up. Though her head was pounding and she was a little unsteady on her feet, she seemed to be alright. Joren was helping Nyna try to steady herself, the young woman who had been been the subject of the Rodians' ire approached.

“We should really get going.” The young woman said as she reached them.

“Probably a good idea. Who knows what we just stirred up.” Joren agreed.

“My place is just outside of town. It's just a short walk from here.” She told them.

“That's alright, our ship is on the outskirts of the city.” Dono said as Nyna stumbled a bit as Joren still held on to her, keeping her upright. The young woman watched as Nyna struggled on her feet and then shook her head at the Mandalorian.

“Those guys that you took out.-” She said motioning to the dead Rodians that littered the roadway. “-They're debt collectors for Sladoba the Hutt. He won't be happy when word gets out that you slaughtered his guys, and from the way that word travels around here, I'd say he's probably learning about this whole fiasco right about now. So, you can take your chances and head all the way back to your ship with someone who can barely walk straight, or you can come with me.”

Dono was about to raise an objection, however, Kelsa spoke up before he had the chance.

“She's right.” Kelsa said.

“Kelsa, we don't know her.” Dono said.

“And she.-” She said pointing emphatically at Nyna. “-can't walk straight. Let's go with...” She paused as she shifted her gaze to the young blonde woman.

“Breia.” she said.

“Breia to her place, get Nyna some time to rest, and we can get back to the Dreams tomorrow.”

“Not a bad idea.” Joren said as he turned to regard Breia. “I'm Joren, this is Nyna, Dono, and you've met Kelsa.” He said as he pointed to each of his friends.

“Nice to meet you all, now we should go.” Breia said as she led the others away from the scene of the shootout.

As they began walking toward the edge of town, Joren stopped short. There was something there with them on this world, something that felt dark, cold. It was something that Joren had never felt before, and if truth be told, he hoped to never feel again.

“You okay Vod'ika?” Dono called to him.

“Yeah...yeah, I'm coming.” Joren said as he rejoined his friends. However, he couldn't shake the feeling that something, or someone, was watching them.

Coruscant

Soon after Kava's fleet had dropped out of hyperspace above Coruscant, the sensors aboard the Lazarus had detected a flurry of activity in the city planet below. There had been significant troop movements around the Imperial Palace, where Koren Ozzell had taken up residence following the Emperor's death. Of course, the panic that she could almost feel emanating from the city planet was mostly for nothing, after all, Admiral Kava had come to offer her hand in friendship to the leadership of the Grand Imperium.

For thousands of years, Coruscant served as the seat of power in the galaxy. It was the center of the Empire, as well as the Republic which had preceded it. Kava knew the rebels, as well as much of the galaxy at large to be a sentimental lot, and as such, it was only a matter of time before they made a play at taking Coruscant, and she could not allow that to happen. For if the rebels were to take the Imperial capitol, the Empire would quickly lose its grip on the systems that it still did control, and eventually would die.

And Kava would rather die than to see that happen. So in order to preserve the Empire that she served, she would do anything, including enter into an alliance with a weak fool like Ozzell. At one time, Koren Ozzell had been the standard by which other Imperial commanders had aspired to emulate. He had been a brilliant tactician and commanded respect from his subordinates, and more importantly, their undying loyalty. So it was only natural that in the wake of the Emperor's death, that he be the one to take the reigns of what remained of the Empire and forge it into something new, the Grand Imperium.

Unfortunately, as the leader of the Imperium, he became too much of a politician. He lost the edge that had made him a great warrior. Instead of bending the galaxy to his will, he instead made concessions to the rebels, even recognizing the terrorists as a legitimate government. He pandered and placated the so called “New Republic” so much so that they themselves began to believe that they were in control of the galaxy.

Fools. She thought to herself as she looked out of the window of the command deck at the massive city planet below.

“Admiral, we're being hailed by the Imperium Palace.” Captain Bryce informed her as he approached from behind, stopping short and standing at attention as he awaited her instruction.

“Very good.-” Kava grinned as she turned to face the captain. “-Bring them up on the holodisplay. We should greet our new friends.” She said slightly sarcastically.

She had met Koren Ozzell several times during her service to the Empire. He had always struck her as a gifted commander, someone who had ways to motivate his subordinates, yet, she found herself utterly disappointed in his apparent sense of contentment. He was happy to sit on his throne on Coruscant while the rest of the galaxy descended into chaos. He had no real desire to reclaim the territory that the rebels had stolen from the Empire, and that infuriated Kava. However, she had no intention of deposing him. For all of his faults, he was still useful. The truth was, that Kava did not presently have any desire to be the public face of the Empire, and she would leave that role to Ozzell, at least for now.

She stood before the holodisplay as it activated, revealing a man in a pristine Imperium uniform staring back at her. He was a tall man, well over six feet tall with tightly cropped black hair and an impeccably trimmed beard. Though she did not know this man who's image stood before her, she assumed he was one of Ozzell's underlings.

“Super Star Destroyer Lazarus, what brings you to Coruscant?” The man asked shortly. Kava had heard reports from her people embedded within the Imperium that Ozzell and his staff were somewhat paranoid, and she could see by this man's response to her very presence that these reports were true. In order to get what she wanted, she would need to assuage the paranoia of the Imperium High Command.

“I am Lez'Kava'Layro of the Galactic Empire, however, you may call me Admiral Kava. I am here to speak with Lord Ozzell.” Kava coldly.

“One moment, Admiral Kava.-” The bearded man responded as he punched information into the datapad in his hands. “-Your credentials check out. You have permission to land, I'm transmitting the coordinates to you now.”

“Very well, officer.” Kava replied coolly. Though the man's demeanor had annoyed the Admiral, she did not show her aggravation. However, as she studied the man in the holodisplay, she could see that he seemed to be slightly shaken. And while most might not notice it, to Kava it was abundantly clear that something seemed to be worrying the officer, and it was not just the sudden arrival of her fleet. “Kava out.” she said as the holodisplay went dark as the transmission was terminated.

“Captain Bryce, prepare my shuttle and gather the landing party. Beeone, you're with me.” She said to the hulking KX security droid who stood silently behind her. “We're going home.” She said after a momentary pause, a smile creasing her lips.

“Yes Mistress, right away.” the droid replied as it followed the Admiral away from the bridge.

---

As soon as the Dawn's boarding ramp cracked open, the sounds and smells of Black Spire Outpost began to filter towards Huc. He breathed deep, allowing each scent to bring back a memory. Ever since they had come to the more remote reaches of the Outer Rim to fulfill their mission, Black Spire had become Huc's favorite place in the galaxy. A true frontier town, it was one an important port of call for fuel before the invention of hyperspace travel allowed ships to pass it by. Now it was nothing more than a place people came to get lost, or make a quick credit on dangerous frontier work.

The landing ramp finished its cycle, and standing there waiting for them was Oga Garra, the Blutopian and defacto leader of the outpost. She wasn't as tall as Gar, but she was as wide. The pale pink tentacles on her face twitched as she saw the crew of the Dawn, "Well, if it isn't my favorite crew."

"Oga," Huc put his arms out and flung one around her broad shoulders, "we brought your wine. I know you've been itching for a shipment."

Her eyes shifted over to him as they walked down the ramp, "Uh, yea, sure. Wine. I'll have my guys come take it out of the hold."

"A fine year, you're going to love it," Yu'li winked as they passed out of the docking bay and into the main stretch of the Black Spire marketplace.

"Hey, Duck," Huc called back to the droid, "help the guys when they come for the shipment."

"Fine, fine," the droid responded. "Make the contraband move the-"

"Shut up, Duck!" Gor shushed the droid as he made his way gingerly down the ramp.

"One day you're going to sell that droid to me," Oga elbowed Huc in the ribs.

"You already have a Star Tours model," he shook his head in return.

"Yea, but Duck would be way more dynamic of an entertainer," she shrugged.

The mud buildings that lined the long, narrow street of the marketplace were older than almost anything on Corellia, but their ancient architects were clearly skilled as they still stood strong. The centuries of inhabitants had worn on them of course. While they were almost certainly sparkling and pristine when they were first built, now there was laundry hanging between wires strung between upper windows and the faint din of music floating from terraces. Along the streets, merchants hawked their wears. Everything from toys to blasters were on display. If there was something you wanted, you could get it in Black Spire...for a price.

Huc's fist clenched as he saw how many Stormtroopers were patrolling the marketplace, looking at products and seemingly questioning the locals. They were looking for something, that much was certain. What it was, he didn't know, but they shouldn't be here.

Yu'Li must have sensed his anger, and took his hand, squeezing it softly. He looked over to her, and she gave him a reassuring smile. He nodded back, understanding what it meant.

Not now.

Yu was his rock. The best friend he had ever had, she was the cool, calm, collected one between them. Even though she had been split from her family and enslaved by the Empire, she could still hold her head when she was around them. Meanwhile, Huc was almost always ready to take down a squad of troopers. Maybe her cool demeanor was why she was such a good shot. All he knew, though, was that she was loyal and would do anything for him, and he for her.

"Want to grab a drink?" Oga asked as they approached her cantina. "It's on the house."

"How could we pass that up?" Gor-Nada laughed haughtily and stepped through the door to the bar. Immediately, the sound of music and the din of conversation burst forth.

The group move into the bar, and a smile came over Huc's face. The diverse, large crowd that filled the cantina was so much different than Corellia, it always brought a thrill to him. The dim lighting that came from each of the tables helped hide some of the faces of each being inside, but it couldn't mute the colors of their skin, their drinks, or the smiles as they enjoyed themselves.

Tanks of varying size, shape, and orientation containing liquors, ales, and wines bubbled and churned above the bar. Taps made from starship parts and droid arms were pulled by the Aqualish bartender, Dud. He nodded when he spotted the crew walk in, just as he slid a drink down the bar towards a Quarren.

One of the clay-built walls of the cantina, right across from the bar, had part of it hollowed out. Inside, a makeshift stage was set up. Inside, an RX series pilot droid, which Duck's AC series replaced, turned on its attached base, flipping switches and playing the beats that reverberated off the cantina walls. Rex, as he was known, bobbed his head like a Takodonan chicken.

Oga led the crew of the Corellian Dawn into her office, and the assembled group took seats on the plush couches. The Blutopian poured drinks from a private tap, and Huc took a big swig. The sour brew with notes of berry was a welcome and calming respite after a mission.

"Trandoshan ale!" Gor's satisfaction was palpable. "My favorite."

"I'll put a keg on the Dawn as part of your payment," Oga nodded before looking at Huc. "What did you bring me?"

"Blasters," he shrugged. "Lots of 'em. By the looks of things, you might need them."

"Why is the Empire here, Oga?" Yu asked. "We've never seen a presence like this on Batuu. A small group here or there, but nothing like this."

The large, aquatic alien shifted uncomfortable on her seat. She looked down at her feet before turning back to them, "They showed two days ago. Been searching for something. Mostly around Doc's store. Don't know what they want, but some pale looking guy seems to be leading them. Think the extent of their power is the Star Destroyer."

"Another two bit Moff who wants some glory then," Huc rolled his eyes. When the Rebellion shattered the Empire, it broken into a million different pieces like shards of glass. And every one of those shards seemed to be sheering its way through the galaxy, ripping its own painful hole as it went. Even in defeat the Empire was hurting people. It made Huc's blood boil.

"Why Doc?" Gor asked.

Doc Ondar, an Ithorian, ran an antiques shop in the square. It was one of the bigger shops in Black Spire, and was filled with some of the most wonderful junk Huc had ever seen. But it wasn't anything he'd ever expect the Empire to be interested in.

"No clue," Oga shook her head. "He doesn't seem to want to tell me. I think he thinks I might rat him out to get the Empire off Batuu."

"To be fair, I don't blame him for that," Huc winked at their contact.

She tipped her glass towards him and continued, "Maybe he'll talk to you. Always seemed to like you for some reason. Dunno why."

"Yea that doesn't make sense," Yu looked at Huc over the rim of her drink with squinted eyes, her pink skin catching the dim light like a sunset.

"Very funny," he shook his head and downed the rest of the ale. "You guys hang out here. I'll see what the crazy old Ithorian's got that the Imps want so bad."

The Raider Class Imperial corvette emerged from hyperspace a short distance from Corucant. The voyage of the Nightfury back to the homeworld of the Grand Imperium had been without issue. Dredar had moved to his makeshift quarters in the vessel shortly after his return from the successful negotiations. The Knight Commander was pleased that the new Confederacy was so reasonable in their agreement. Though he was truthfully unsure how effective an ally the still fledgling CIS would prove be. But with the Imperium's backing their level of strength would certainly accelerate. Upon arrival in his room, formerly a storage cell now converted into a makeshift bunk room, the force user had gone into meditation. As the force flowed around him it filled his mind, cleansing him of the worst thoughts whilst feeding his motivation. As he sat with folded legs in the room he levitated off the durasteel floor, a sign that his entire frame was in tune with the force. His lightsaber shook gently as it was clipped to his hip, Dredar delighted to not have had to use it on this diplomatic mission.

The last thing any man on the Nightfury expected to greet them when they returned home was a potentially hostile fleet amassed around Coruscant. Captain Dystra stared wide eyed out the frontal windows on the bridge of the Imperial vessel as he counted each of the ships scattered around the world. The veteran Navy man was no stranger to a space battle but he did not see any ship to ship cannon-fire being exchanged. Regardless, the entire situation stunk of something wrong even as he ordered all crew on the bridge to stand down and push forward towards Coruscant. He reluctantly approached the holo transmitter in order to contact the ship's temporary commanding officer, Dredar. Dystra sighed as he pressed the button, the head of the Imperial Knights having given specific orders to not disturb him except for an emergency.

"Knight Commander, my deepest apologies for the disturbance, but there is something you must see. There is a fleet assembled in orbit of Coruscant." The captain began to say as his holographic figure appeared above a small console in Dredar's quarters. The force user sprung out of his meditation as soon as the word 'fleet' was mentioned.

"A what? Is it the rebels?" Dredar asked with evident surprise, disgust leaking out of his words at the mention of the self proclaimed New Republic. He'd never call them that name, they'd always be a brash band of traitors and rebels to him.

"No sir. They are Imperial vessels but they are not with the Imperium. We are still on approach to the world and attempting to hail the nearest capitol ship," Dystra replied with his hands folded in front of him. "They did not open fire upon us, it appears to be an entirely peaceful scene."

"I will be on the bridge shortly and engage them. I have no doubt Lord Ozzell hailed them as soon as they entered the sector." The Knight Commander said with certainty, then walked out of his quarters as the hologram flickered away. He clenched his fist as he exited the room, the death troopers sent on the mission with him following him like bodyguards.

He was unsure of what to make of the situation. There were several Imperial 'remnants', most of them moffs or admirals controlling small star systems. The hostility with which they encountered each other varied, though these false proclaimed successors to the true Empire were more cowardly than anything. Many were like entitled children playing warlords, until the rebels or a larger Imperial faction rolled in and defeated them. Dredar was unsure where this fleet had come from but he believed they came with diplomatic intentions, judging by the fact the orbit around Coruscant had not descended into a massive space battle. Perhaps Ozzell could bring them under boot, get them to swear allegiance and strengthen the Grand Imperium. The man was certainly suave enough to do so. Upon Dredar's arrival to the bridge he was greeted with a bow of respect from Captain Dystra.

"We have reached out to one of the Super Star Destroyers, Lord Commander." The grey haired man stated calmly as he glanced back out of the front the Nightfury as they drew closer to the Coruscant's orbit.

"Excellent. I do hope they answer our hailing, these 'Imperials' have some questions to answer. Captain, please also send a message to Lord Ozzell. I'd like to know what his plan is for this situation, and inform him of our successful return." The crimson armored force user said with a nod as he gazed upon the most impressive vessel in this newly arrived fleet.

_{ISD-Blackstar}

---

Captain Lorrange sat in silence, mindlessly flipping through reports on her private terminal in her ready room, trying to get through her work.

“You don’t have the heart for this!”

Captain Bellum’s words repeated in her mind every time the topic of the traitors came up in reports or duty assignments. When he first said that she scoffed, she was angry, and fed up with such an irresponsible seeming officer. So when the troopers tossed him around a bit she had to admit to feeing a bit of pleasure, and even the interrogator droid. But it seems the man was right, the shock probe was fine, but when it started injecting him that’s when she started to grimace.

Luckily, she didn’t get to see what more the droid could do, Bellum’s strong façade was just that and crumpled after a minute. What he ended up spilling was nearly useless, in the end it seems he was just someone's tool. Eventually a voice on her intercom shook her out of her self-imposed daze.

“Captain, we’ve arrived at Coruscant, and I think you want to see this.”

Merril’s brows furrowed, and her mind raced. What could possible be happening at Coruscant, the Rebels would likely attack one day, but it was so brazen, and Ozzel had managed to open a dialogue with them. Even so, she had to ask.

“Rebels?”

“No, Ma’am. Imperial Vessels, a fleet with Super Star Destroyers…”

Super Star Destroyers? There was nothing the Blackstar alone could do, but still, she did have to, and want to see this for herself.
Merril dropped what she was doing and hastily walked out towards the bridge.‘Imperial Remnants’, most encounters between them and loyal Imperials turned violent, which is exactly the outcome she feared. Everybody in the navy knew about the firepower of Vader’s old command ship the Super Star Destroyer Executor, it was a monster, and it was a supposed to be a monster on their side.

_{ISD-Blackstar (Bridge)}

---

Merril felt a wave of apprehension wash over her, either from her own worries, or the anxious atmosphere coating her own command center, there was no difference. Her heart quickened as she saw the site for herself through the view port; most of the new fleet were nothing more than dust motes in the stars, but the SSDs, those were very visible.

The entire bridge crew saluted at her presence, her executive officer hung silent for a moment, as if forgetting procedure, and then made his announcement.

“Captain on deck!”

“Report.”

“No weapons fire, but we are detecting a communication line between them and the Imperial Palace.”

Mantelli looked at her as if anticipating something, his eyes seemed to be expecting a certain order.

What? I hope you’re not asking to fire on them, we’d die, we’d die on the spot!

“Would you like to hail them, Ma’am?” He finally asked.

“No, they won’t be interested in just another ship.” Merril said. Her lips pursed as she considered what to do.

The command crew was young, so something like this definitely had them all on edge, including her, but the standing fleet around Coruscant hadn't engaged the newcomers so there was a good chance they were here in peace; then again, if they weren't, that fleet wasn't going to do much good anyways.

“Keep our sensors on that fleet, and hold position here. If something happens, I don’t want to be in the thick of it.”

Hopefully this ends well, we’re all one big happy fleet after all…

The repulsorcraft glided just above the rough terrain of the Imperial controlled world, on course for its first destination. The Imperial troop transport drew no eyes as it moved through the outskirts of the capitol city. Even though the people within it were not stormtroopers at all, but much rather the exact opposite. Vorn Tiger squad sat restlessly within the heavy duty transport, each of the five Republic commandos hellbent on causing more issues for the Imperium. As the vehicle drew closer to the first forced labor camp the team’s leader, Sargent Vale stood up to speak.

“We’re going to hit them hard and fast. If we’re lucky we should be able to use this transport’s clearance codes to get inside the camp. Once we are inside we’ll come out blasters hot, take out any plastic boys that you see. We will split into two smaller units, Dakkar and I will be one, we will power through into the command center of the camp. We’ll eliminate any defenses and unlock every single door. Eensil and Vebb will move to free prisoners, hand them blasters and add numbers to our side,” Zena stated with determination, as her team looked upon her with eagerness. “Bima will have taken a position higher up from the camp, she will take out as many Imperials as she can from a distance. Further adding to the chaos for the Imperium.”

Private Leapfar had taken an Imperial speeder from the garage of the old Republic base, having gone ahead of the rest of the team in order to get a vantage point. Ultrost was a rocky, hilly planet. Exactly where the scout sniper excelled. Zena had the uttermost confidence in her team, she learned over the years that the best way to hit the Imperials was as hard and fast as possible. Once their chain of communication and protocols were shattered they didn’t pose nearly as much of a threat. She could tell that every single person in her squad was itching for this operation, each of them having seen their own share of brutal slavery or internment at the hands of the Empire.

“Sure your leg is okay?” Dakkar asked from his seated position, across from Corporal Keeg. The Yuzzem felt cramped in the transport, it was not exactly built for people of his stature.

“I’m fine. Bacta is a damn miracle.” The duros replied with a smirk as he patted his formerly injured leg. The wound having been sealed up by the gel, the pain evaporated away. Though the scar would always remain. It was simply another one for the collection from his long days of combat.

“We’re coming up on the camp.” The squad’s medic said from behind the controls of the vehicle. The Imperials around them would have no way to tell who exactly was inside the transport, a fact which aided them greatly in infiltrating the camp.

“Nice and easy, Vebb. The code should work just fine.” Zena replied calmly as she walked to where the squad’s medic was seated. The Aldeerani crossed her fingers. “Bima, we’re coming up on the camp. Do you have a position?”
“Affirmative sarge. I’m set up to the northwest, up a hill. I have eyes on the labor camp. Defenses are formidable, but aimed for the outside. Once you get in they will not pose much of a threat on you. I have my sights on some marksman stationed in the two watchtowers.” The team’s sniper replied as she laid her frame down then steadied her rifle on its bipod.

“Excellent. Once the shooting starts I want you to take down both those guards, then call out any movements from the Imps.” Zena said with a firm smirk as she grasped her helmet tightly, then slid it over her head as the transport stopped before the front gate of the camp.

“Transport B-237 what is your business here? We don’t have you on the log for today’s arrivals.” A stern Imperial voice asked, speaking into the comms of the troop transport. Zena took a moment to think of a response, then patched her helmet into the communications.

“There was a protest in the city, we captured several rioters and are bringing them in for processing.” The commando stated in the firmest tone she could muster. Women were uncommon in the Imperium but not unheard of, the story should have easily passed basic inspection.

The Imperial officer did not speak for a few moments, seconds which felt more akin to hours. Zena felt sweat go down her cheek as she wondered if the Imperial would poke holes in the story, which would complicate their operation further. She had to hold back a sigh as the officer’s voice pitched in again, in an affirmative tone.

“Understood, you are clear to head inside the camp. Follow the designated arrows to the processing area.”

“We’re in.” Sargent Vale said with another wider smile, having exited communications with the officer. As the gate slid open slowly the troop transport shifted forward, following the instructed lines. The laser turrets on the outside of the gates wouldn’t pose any threat to them today.

“Slowly, Vebb,” Zena added as she placed a gloved hand on the Mon Calamari’s shoulder. Behind her the rest of her team readied up for another round of combat. “Blasters loaded people, safeties off.”

The outside feed of the cameras inside the transport allowed Zena a chilling look at the interior of the force labor camp. There must have been dozens of prisoners here, she couldn’t tell exactly which ones were with the New Republic. Though many of them were aliens, clad in simple work clothes and lugging around tools. The blasted Imperials had forced them to work in the mines of the world as well as slave away putting together weapons for their war machines. The Aldeerani clenched her fist in rage as she took in the battered state of the prisoners, undoubtedly having faced severe mistreatment here. She only hoped their spirits had not been broken. Zena couldn’t wait to burn this wretched place to the ground.

It had been some time between when Malg’s educational electrocution and when the transport arrived. But while the restraining bolt controlled his body, it did not control his mind. He was not going to let these Imperial bastards break him. And the taskmaster’s words were already causing him to put his devious intellect to work. Those explosives did indeed have a weakness, and he would love to exploit that. But first, the restraining bolt.

The restraining bolt interfaced with his systems, but most droids it connected to were not as well-versed in software as Malg was, nor did most droids have root access to their own systems.

Not Malg. Malg was the administrator of his mind and body ever since he started breaking down his mental safeguards. And that meant that he could “see” the restraining bolt on an internal level, and understand how it did what it did.

It seemed that his body--the 2-1B chassis, to be specific--was designed with a restraining bolt anchor point on his chest. He had been specifically manufactured with a restraining bolt in mind, effectively meaning he had a hardware-based backdoor into his motor functions that would be almost impossible to close.

But Malg was used to things like this. Slicing wasn’t his specialty--but hardware modification was. If he could figure out how to hook up a pair of Super Battle Droid legs to his waist without causing damage to his systems, he could do the same thing in reverse, rendering a piece of hardware incompatible with his body.

He’d never needed to do this before, and he could easily screw up and wreck his motor functions forever. But he knew enough.

Over the last few weeks, he’d secretly been rifling through his file system and his programming, analyzing the restraining bolt. Even when charging or in sleep mode, he’d been devoting resources to this task. Much like a prize fighter researching his opponent and learning their weaknesses, he had been looking for weakpoints in the restraining bolt’s control mechanism for almost his entire stay.

Now, he was ready to break that control mechanism. He’d run low on batteries and was charging in a droid storage bay, away from prying eyes. No-one ever paid attention to a recharging droid. It was like watching paint dry. And it was the one place they’d never expect a droid to misbehave, since he was tied to a recharge coupling.

He restarted himself, his OS applying the self-coded patch needed to lock off the restraining bolt from the rest of his body. When he came online again, he had to stop himself from celebrating right then and there. It had worked without a hitch! His OS could no longer recognize the restraining bolt! He was free!

He didn’t get to experience his freedom for long, though, since an Imperial technician walked by, carrying a Data Pad, and must have seen him restart.

“M4, why did you reboot?”

“I can reboot whenever I want,” Malg said. “There’s no rule about restarting yourself during a recharge.”

“Being willful again, I see? No matter, you’ll learn your place soon enough. Recharge is over,” he said as he activated the droid caller function on his ‘pad. “Get back to work.”

Nothing happened. In the silence, you could hear a pin drop.

Then the engineer made to draw his blaster. Malg lunged forward, grabbing his blaster hand with his labor droid arm, shoving a hand over the engineer’s mouth with his B2 arm to muffle the scream he tried to make, then reared back his original right fist and slammed his metal hand into the technician’s face, breaking his glasses, causing him to bleed from his forehead, and almost definitely giving him a black eye. Then, he squeezed with his labor droid arm, crushing the man’s blaster hand into a mangled mess.

The hapless technician struggled and tried to scream, but the droid hand over his mouth was a strong one. Finally, Malg decided to put the engineer out of his misery, using his remaining arm to grab the technician’s blaster pistol, Then, he pointed the Imperial blaster right into the hapless Impie’s face and pulled the trigger. The blaster shots rang out, almost certainly attracting attention, but in the heat of the moment, he didn’t care.

The technician’s head fell back, his tongue lolling out as the hole between his eyes sizzled.

Malg searched the technician for anything he had on him. An ID card, some tools, a spare power pack, the blaster, a utility belt and the data pad. Great!

He quickly shoved the blaster pistol into his right leg’s speed-holster, and the rest into the utility belt, which he haphazardly clicked around his waist and hoped it didn’t get caught in his hip joints.

He looked back at the other droids in the storage bay. They were all in sleep mode, largely out of boredom he assumed, but he knew he was the only droid here who hadn’t been memory wiped, reprogrammed, or Imperial property in the first place. They would never choose to go with him, and if he tried to make them by using the data pad, he’d be no better than the technician he just killed. He ripped off his restraining bolt and began his escape.

Using the engineer’s ID card, he made his way through the secured blast door that separated the droid storage bay from the rest of the base. He knew this place well: The droid storage bay happened to be near the engineering barracks, the command center...and, judging by the few glimpses he’d gotten from his time going to and from the droid storage bay, some kind of server room. The Imperials loved central control over all information, forcing everything in the camp to be monitored. If he could slice into the servers, or turn them off, he could probably do a lot of damage to the camp’s infrastructure.

“B-237, please open the main doors so we can begin processing.” An Imperial officer’s voice ordered as it blared into an empty console. Vorn Tiger squad were assembled in the back of the troop transport, each commando itching to cause chaos in the labor camp.

“Let’s give these bastards a battle.” Sargent Vale stated to her team as she grasped onto her A280 tightly, her finger hanging over the trigger. Dakkar led the charge as he was nearest to the door, his heavy blaster rifle aimed dead center.

Then the door powered open, a duo of stormtroopers shocked to be met with a blaster aimed directly at them. Zena hollered at her team as the Yuzzem blasted both men with ferocity. The two troopers flew backwards with screams as the five man team emerged with blasters roaring. The Aldeerani sergeant had her sights on a shocked officer who scrambled for his sidearm. A bolt tore into his chest, burning through flesh and uniform as he hit the hard floor dead on arrival. The rest of the squad blasted at the nearest Imperials to them, adding assertively to the bodycount. Alarms sounded as the assault on the camp had begun from the inside.

An even louder blaster bolt careened into one of the guards in the tower as the armored man plummeted from above. Private Leapfar set her sights on the second sniper wielding guard, then dropped that trooper with pure precision. The camp erupted in an orgy of chaos as stormtroopers returned fire while others darted for cover. The Vorn Tigers shifted into two teams as Zena and Dakkar sprinted towards the nearest door. Vebb and Eensil went in the opposite direction towards the prisoner quarters, kicking discarded Imperial blaster rifles towards any nearby prisoners. Encouraging an armed uprising led by a team of highly trained New Republic commandos. Zena placed a remote charge on the doorway to prisoner processing, part of a larger building which held the commando center.

“Breaching, Dak! Cover me!” The lead commando shouted as her Yuzzem comrade popped from behind cover to unleash a volley of laser fire at encroaching Imperials. A wide smile came onto Dakkar’s face as he watched a duo of prisoners unleash bolts from a side flank, joining the fight on the freedom fighters’ side.

“If you can fight, pick up a blaster!” Eensil hollered to nearby prisoners, ripping off a barrage of laser blasts towards some encamped stormtroopers. Iwik tossed an Imperial blaster towards them, as he grabbed them from recently deceased troopers.

One trooper got a flank on Iwik with the alien directly in his sights, finger on the trigger before a bolt slammed into his skull. Bima, the guardian angel of the team, then reloaded her E-11s before she resumed headhunting Imperials to cover her team. Explosions sounded off as Zena detonated the charges on the door, sending debris into the hallway followed by a thermal detonator. The stormtroopers inside dove behind cover as the two New Republic commandos blasted at them, marking the halls with blackened marks of smoke. One of the soldiers went down with a scream as the others returned fire at the special operations soldiers tucked behind cover.

“Bima, keep those pretty brown eyes on us all. Dak and I are gonna push inside.” Zena radioed as she reloaded her A280. Smiling at the increasing sounds of combat as more prisoners were freed and joined the revolt.

An angry message from an enraged officer sounded over the camp’s intercoms stating that any prisoners caught in the uprising would be met with lethal resistance. The Imperials had lost the advantage here, they were scattered and rapidly losing the numbers battle. It was her favorite kind of situation, freeing good men from those Imperial bastards’ control while kicking stormtrooper asses into the dirt. She peaked her eyes out from the sturdy metal crate she tucked behind and counted six stormtroopers hunkered at the end of the hallway. There was not telling how many were tucked in that building, they’d have to breach it slowly.

Malg knew he’d need some credentials if he wanted to break into the system. So, he headed to the engineer’s quarters. The technician who he’d killed was a droid tech, and servers probably weren’t his specialty. He could steal an officer’s credentials, but the officers were likely protected by armed guards, whereas engineers wouldn’t have that luxury, at least not to the same degree.

But as he crept down corridor after corridor, he heard...blaster fire? And where were all the guards? He’d expected more resistance--BOOM! An explosion rang out that shook the ground, and the surprise of it sent him tumbling to the floor.

THE FUCK WAS THAT?! he thought to himself as he pushed himself back to his feet, leaning against the wall due to the shock. You didn’t just get used to random explosions, even in the Republic military. It was one thing on the battlefield, it was another when it came out of nowhere.

Then, a voice crackled over the PA system, the sound of a smarmy Imperial officer’s haughty accent. “ATTENTION ALL INMATES! ANYONE WHO PARTICIPATES IN THE INSURRECTION WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE! I REPEAT, ANY INMATE WHO PARTICIPATES IN THE INSURRECTION WILL BE MET WITH LETHAL FORCE! FURTHERMORE, ANYONE WHO AIDS THE TERRORISTS WILL BE SUBJECT TO THE SAME TREATMENT! ANY PRISONER WHO SURRENDERS PEACEFULLY, HOWEVER, WILL RECEIVE NO PUNISHMENT, AND ANY PRISONER WHO AIDS THE IMPERIAL FORCES WILL BE REWARDED! CHOOSE WISELY, OR YOU WILL WISH YOU DIDN’T LIVE TO REGRET IT!”

Malg burst out laughing in the corridor. So all of his hacking was for nothing! A rescue team was already here! And clearly the Imperials were losing if they were offering mercy!

Alright, he thought, that explains why no-one’s here. Time to get to work.

Swiping the ID card into the reader, he entered the engineer’s quarters. One Imperial engineer had apparently been in here when the alarm was raised, and Malg shot him dead before he could even acknowledge the droid’s presence.

Then, he started looking through the specialized barracks. The engineers lived close to the most critical camp systems, since due to a technical issue, they could theoretically be roused from sleep at any time if the engineers on shift couldn’t handle the problem themselves. He’d heard the engineers grumbling about this policy long enough to know about it.

And that meant that this barracks was going to be loaded with useful stuff. First, though, he searched the engineer he’d just killed, taking, among other things, a shoulderbag he was carrying (must have gotten special permission from his superiors to alter his uniform, likely a prestigious guy), his blaster pistol, and, in the mother of all finds, a data pad that, when he cracked the password via a scomp link, contained sysadmin passwords for the base’s computer systems! JACKPOT! He stole the credits from the man’s utility belt, for good measure. This guy got a pretty good salary!

He heard shouting from behind the door he hadn’t opened yet, however, and more blaster fire. He ducked behind a bunk as he heard the door opening. With his two blaster pistols, he risked a glance over the bed as he saw a guard in full Stormtrooper armor run inside and take cover against the wall next to the door he’d opened...only to look back into the room and see Malg.

The stormtrooper swore and leveled his E-11 as the door closed, spraying automatic fire in Malg’s direction. One bolt nicked Malg’s head, another hit him in the upper-left arm and a third struck his neck servos, but Malg had a shield generator (now that the restraining bolt was gone, anyway) on top of durasteel plating, and the guard only had plastoid armor. The stormtrooper’s shots were harmlessly absorbed by the plasma shield, while Malg’s two blaster shots hit the Stormtrooper square in the upper chest, where his lungs and heart were. The force of the impact slammed his body, particularly his head, back into the wall. Newton’s Third Law made him fall forwards, gurgling on the ground. Malg shot him once more, this time in the head, to end his suffering. No need to leave the poor bastard drowning in his own blood for the 15 minutes he’d have to live.

That just left whoever was causing the ruckus, and while he had an idea what to expect, he wasn’t sure what he’d do next. Anyone could come through that door, including another Stormtrooper, so he needed to be on-guard, but if he was too on-guard, the rescue team might shoot him on instinct.

He resolved to hide under a bed at the end of the room he’d entered from and evaluate their intentions before he revealed himself.

Outside the building the two New Republic commandos charged forward through the breached doorway. Another thermal detonator, this time thrown by Dakkar had forced the stormtroopers to fall back. It had created an ideal opportunity for a forward push. Sergeant Vale’s blaster rifle remained hot as she continued to volley suppressing fire into the interior towards the backpedaling Imperials.

“Push the advantage!” Zena hollered as the chaotic sounds of combat filled the air. She was so used to it all by now, none it truly fazed her anymore. The attacks on the damned Imperials always delighted her, this one was no different.

Across the way, by the prisoner barracks the other two members of Vorn Tiger squad with their boots on the ground in the camp continued their own assault. The numbers continued to tilt against the Imperium as rebellious prisoners joined the chaos. Much of the forced labor camp’s prisoner population were captured New Republic soldiers. Many of them were itching for payback, their captors’ brutal treatment of them before the uprising fresh in their minds.

“Bima, they set up a heavy blaster rifle encampment just outside the barracks. It’s going to tear us apart. Can you find an opening?” Corporal Keeg asked the overlooking sniper, building stress evident in his words. He was tucked behind an overturned mine cart alongside Imik.

“I’ll try to shift positions!” The diminutive marksman replied right as she squeezed off another laser bolt which slammed into the chest of an unfortunate stormtrooper. The nosaurian then rapidly rose to her feet and dashed to her left, careful as she darted along the hillside.

“I just need a tiny window.” She said to herself as she took a short slide down the hill then aimed her sniper rifle towards the turret encampment. “Got you.”

Another bolt flew through the air then collided beautifully with the right shoulder of the trooper behind the turret. The armored soldier’s body flung backwards from the pure shock of the blast striking him. As another stormtrooper scrambled to get behind the heavy blaster Eensil popped from behind the mine cart, a micro-grenade launcher in his hands. The duros was quite pleased with himself that he had brought the highly explosive weapon. The stormtroopers watched as the commando shot off a duo of grenades at their encampment.

“Get down!” One of the troopers howled, his voice cracking as he dove sideways with his hands over his helmet. The blasts then ignited as they shredded the encampment.

“Good shit, Corporal!” Imik stated as he watched the explosions go off.

The sound of the explosions brought a smile to the team’s commanding officer as her and Dakkar continued their part of the offensive. They had stormed forward into the hallway and now found themselves inside the processing center. A few rooms were to their side which likely were used to hold prisoners. As Zena stood against the corner of the hallway she watched as a few more bolts were shot towards them, stormtroopers having taken up a new position down a longer hallway.

“As soon as I throw this start firing down the corridor through the smoke. We have to advance forward.” The sergeant ordered as she glanced at Dakkar alongside her. The Yuzzem nodded firmly as Zena drew a smoke grenade from her belt.

Then she flung it around the corner, bounced off a roll and rolled forward. Smoke began to pour out of it as she charged ahead, her boots clanking loudly against the steel plated flooring. As the lead commando tucked herself into a doorway the Yuzzem did his part. A flurry of blaster bolts slammed down the hallway, filling the area with the sound of heavy laser fire. The stormtroopers at the end of the hallway were forced to stay in cover as the barrage impacted around them.

“On me Dak, forward to my location!” The Aldeerani added as her loyal soldier did as ordered. The Yuzzem stepped around the corner as he continued to suppress the trigger of his DLT-19, hip firing the sizable weapon. A far easier task for a powerful Yuzzem like him than for a normal human being.

“In here.” Zena said as she slammed her fist onto the control panel of the doorway, allowing them to enter inside. She only hoped it didn’t trap them in the room, but she had plenty of explosives still to use.

Upon entrance into the room the two commandos took sight of what met them inside. Thankfully there were no stormtroopers tucked in there which allowed them to breathe for a moment. It was some sort of engineering barracks, a group of inactive droids tucked into part of it. Zena reloaded her blaster rifle as she started to walk through the large room, delighted to find another door on the opposite side of the room. Closer to the end of the hallway they’d barged in from. She stopped in her stride at the sight of a single dead stormtrooper, cleanly killed on the floor.

“Who killed this one?” Dakkar asked as he approached the corpse then knelt down to examine it. It was extremely unlikely any prisoners in this building had gotten their hands on a blaster to partake in the uprising. As he looked over the corpse he caught sight of a droid tucked underneath a bunk in the corner of his eye, which caused the Yuzzem to raise his blaster. “Sargeant.”

“What the?” Zena asked as she too saw the droid hiding. Likely the culprit, albeit a strange one. Her next words were direct ones to the strange droid. “Come out from under there and identify yourself.”

“I see I’m not as good at stealth as I thought,” the droid said with a chuckle. He crawled out from under the bunk, stood up, and saluted. “M4-LG, combat medic in the 23rd Infantry, at your service, ma’am. But call me Malg, not Emfour. And you are?”

“Sargeant Zena Vale of Vorn Tiger Squad. This is Private Dakkar. How’d you end up here? I’m guessing you killed this trooper? I don’t see many combat droids in the Republic,” She asked, having not dealt directly with many droids in the New Republic’s military. She then turned her head towards Dakkar. “Keep any eye on the doors, don’t want to be sitting ducks here if the Imps charge in.”

Malg laughed again. “Guilty as charged. And ma’am, I’m not a ‘combat droid,’ I’m half a junked 2-1B medical droid with a hundred different parts from other unfortunate droids bolted on in ways they were never intended. I built a ship out of even more junk and flew it from Raxus Prime to Tatooine myself, and then a lucky encounter and a lack of regulations let me open up a medical practice. Then circumstances forced me to join the Rebels back before the Battle of Yavin, and the rest is history.”

“That sounds like an enthralling tale for another time, when we’re not in the middle of a labor camp uprising.” The sergeant replied with a smirk. Clearly the droid had been through a real journey, but what mattered at this moment was if he was in fighting shape. Another blaster was always appreciated.

“Can you fight? Because we’re in the middle of it right now. We have the upper hand but we came here to utterly crush the Imperium into the ground, free every prisoner then burn this camp to the ground.” She added as she put on her very best motivation tone.

“Yep, I’m fine.” She could probably tell that Malg would be grinning if he had a mouth. “Got a clone commando shield generator in my chest, the trooper over there couldn’t even touch me,” he said, jerking his head over to the corpse.

“Anyway, I actually had a couple things I needed to do here. First stop is the command center, where all the critical systems are. I’ve heard enough chatter in the Droid Storage Bay to know that there’s a bunch of servers that have critical information on them, and I’m hoping that my memories are there too. They backed off from a memory wipe ‘cause, you know, junk droid, but they nabbed all the intel they could from me. And some of that info might put someone I know in danger. I want to see if I can delete that info off of the Imperial network on Utrost, and to do that I need to pretend to be the labor camp’s server when I make my move. With any luck, it hasn’t been transferred to Imperial intelligence yet, since it took about a week for them to get past my security in the first place.

“And as for burning the camp down….” Malg’s grin would have been absolutely shit-eating if his aforementioned mouth existed. “What if I told you that we could blow it up with the Impies’ own explosives instead? I know how to detonate the mining charges by bypassing the safety protocols. It only takes a jolt of electricity.”

Zena enjoyed hearing every single word which came out of Malg. The droid knew the layout of this building and gave them a direct route to reach the command center. The juiciest tidbit was the knowledge that he knew how to destroy the camp with the Imperium’s own explosives. She was quite glad to have run into this droid.

“Absolutely perfect. We’ll follow you right to the command center taking out plastics along the way, while you do your own business there we’ll splice right into their system. A perfect way to get into their communications which will help us take down the next labor camp we were sent here to raze.” The lead commando said as she pieced together a simple but effective plan of operation for the now trio of New Republic operatives.

“We have two other special operations soldiers assaulting the other side of the camp, they are aiding the prisoner uprising as they clear out Imperials. Those explosives will be very handy later on, it’s gonna be a beautiful sight watching this disgusting place go up in flames.” She added with another smile. The Imperium garrison here would be reeling.

“Sounds like a plan. After we hit the Command Center though, some of the droids in the storage bay are other captured Republic droids. They’ve all been memory-wiped and got Impie software shoved into ‘em in place of a personality, but I’d consider them prisoners just the same. Think we can get ‘em out of here with the fleshy inmates?”

As he said this, he bent down to the soldier he’d killed earlier, grabbing the E-11 rifle off the floor and...holding it to his chest? Amazingly, the rifle actually clicked into a compartment that opened up on the left side of his chest cavity, some kind of rifle-sized speed-holster.

Realizing that having a dedicated compartment for an Imperial rifle might look suspicious, he said, “Oh, right, forgot to explain that. One of the weapons I got in the junk heaps was an E-11 I modded, but this’ll work just as well until I get my stuff. Made this little contraption to avoid drawing attention. I used it in the 23rd.”

Then, he grabbed the soldier’s utility belt off of his armor and wrapped it around his shoulder like a bandolier. It made him an even more bizarre sight, now that he had an engineer’s utility belt on his waist, a shoulderbag dangling off of his right side, and a Stormtrooper utility belt as a bandolier. It was obvious Malg couldn’t give two shits about appearances, which made sense given how strange he looked even without any of this stuff.

“Yes we can take them with us, especially if they were with the Republic before capture,” The sargeant stated as she watched the Imperial rifle compact into the droid’s chest. This Malg was one peculiar machine but all that mattered to her was that he was wholeheartedly with the New Republic.

“If it gives you more firepower then I’m all for it. There’s going to be lots of troopers coming at us as we close in on the command center.” Zena added with a nod. She wondered how the other half of their team was doing, hoping the uprising continued and the casualties on the Imperium’s side kept rising.

“Right,” Malg said. “Now, let’s do this!”

---

Huc put his hands in the pockets of his flight jacket and stepped out of Oga's cantina and back onto the streets of Black Spire. It was now after midday, and the denizens of the outpost were milling about in greater numbers, most of them giving any Stormtroopers that they happened to come across a wide berth.

The simple life that was the everyday for the people of Batuu was something Huc appreciated. The planet had largely been too remote to be touched by the war, and too forgotten for people to go out of their way to use as a base of operations or training ground. It was a gateway to Wild Space and the Unknown Regions, but there were hundreds of worlds like that. Batuu was special in that it was forgotten.

Well, at least until now.

He made his way through the markets of Black Spire on his way to Doc Ondar's, perusing the wares as he went. He passed the creature seller where Yu'Li had purchased Fuzzball, the precocious Loth-cat that was at this moment probably scratching Huc's pillow to ribbons. He'd love to get rid of the beast, but he'd never do that to Yu, who'd be heartbroken in that case. As much as he found the animal annoying, he'd never do that to his friend.

Above the skyline of the Outpost, the tops of the vast forests that covered most of Batuu could be seen, and above them stood the great, dark spires of petrified wood that gave Black Spire its name. Once, long ago, Batuu's great trees towered higher than any beside the great wroshyrs of the Wookiees. Some great calamity struck them long ago, and now they stood as great pillars of stone hovering over the Outpost like the bones of the planet.

Heading through the market, he nodded to the merchants he knew. One of them tossed him a piece of fruit in payment for some medicine Huc had brought to the planet on their last stop. He bit into it appreciatively, the blue, sweet juices flowing freely.

At the end of the crooked marketplace street sat the large, round, windowless building that housed Doc Ondar's Den of Antiquities. It honestly was Huc's favorite shop on the planet. It contained more history than he had ever seen before. He couldn't afford any of it, but he always loved sifting through the Ithorian's stock. A lot of it was junk, but Doc assured him some of it was priceless beyond measure.

The doors to the store slid open, and Huc entered. Immediately the stale, slightly-damp smell of the store hit him, like if time itself if it could be distilled into a scent. He rounded the corner and the familiar sight of Doc's merchandise greeted him. Piles of rugs, tapestries, and textiles from countless cultures littered one corner. A stuffed wampa from the ice planet Hoth rose menacingly over a counter full of carved trinkets. A second floor terrace held shelves of ancient blasters and weapons. On the wall behind the main desk, helmets of various warriors were hung, a Mandalorian one shone in the light. Above him, snaking around the ceiling of the rotunda was the skeleton of a great see creature of some unknown world, its serpent-like head staring down towards the floor as if it was poised to strike.

Huc wished it would, for standing in front of the desk and speaking to the Ithorian proprietor was a short, pale man flanked by two stormtroopers. Huc moved as if he was looking at the merchandise, but did his best to get a good look at the man. He was small, and frail looking. He looked to be at least seventy cycles old, and his pale skin hung on the bones of his face as it it was to fall off at any moment. He was clothed in velvet robes of dark purple, and a hat to match. Huc assumed he was some sort of old Imperial dignitary that managed to get a hold of a Star Destroyer and was now shaking down anyone he saw fit.

"<These are my wares,>" Huc heard the Ithorian shop keeper, in the species' trademark low, rumbling voice, assured the Imp. "<There is nothing of the matter which you speak of.>"

So the bastard was looking for something in Doc's stocks. Made sense. The Imperials were always after weird crap. The rumors were Palpatine was a fanatic for old Jedi relics. For what reason, Huc could never figure. The Jedi were little more than stories across the planets. Some of the older guys in the Corellian Resistance claimed they saw Jedi during the Clone Wars, but few believed them. Jedi were generals in the wars, and then the Empire got rid of them. That's all even the most informed person knew.

"Hmmm," the shrill, high voice of the warlord came like the whine of a busted engine. "I have been told the map was on Black Spire Outpost. I will not leave here without what I seek. I will return tomorrow, and I hope that you manage to find what I'm looking for. For your sake."

As the man turned to leave, his cold, grey eyes caught Huc's. They narrowed menacingly, and he snarled as he exited the shop.

Once the Imperials had gone, Huc turned to Doc, "Didn't know you were expanding your clientele."

"<The have forced themselves upon us,>" the Itorhian was irate. "<I do not know how long I can refuse them.>"

Huc felt his ears perk up at this, "So you do have whatever they were looking for?"

The Ithorian sighed, the flaps on its neck it used for speech rumbling as it did so, "<Yes. But I cannot give it up. It may be better if I let them kill me.>"

"To hell with that," Huc shot back. Doc was nothing but a kind old man running a junk shop. There was no way he was going allow the Imperials to kill a friend. "You have something the Empire wants? I have a very fast ship that can take it away from here."

Ondar looked behind himself towards the back room, where the old Mon Calamri that helped him clean the store was moving some boxes around. The Ithorian lowered his voice, "<Come back after I close. We can talk then.>"

---

^Later
"So you took a job. Without finding out what we'd be carrying," Yu chuckled as the three members of the Dawn crew made their way back to Doc's.

"Or how much we're getting paid," Gor added in.

"That's a very good point," the Togrutan agreed. "Your bleeding heart is gonna get us killed one day."

"Hey, I'm not gonna-" Huc cut himself off as some Stormtroopers passed by. He continued in a quieter voice, "I'm not gonna let the Imps get what they want. And I'm certainly not gonna let them kill Doc. Besides, Oga paid us an Emperor's ransom for those weapons. We got money enough to spare for a while."

Gara had be unusually generous with the fence work this time. Huc had no idea why, maybe she had found a motivated buyer for a few crates of blasters. Still, something didn't feel wholly right about the whole thing.

Batuu at night was a sight to behold. Brighter than most planets at night thanks to its two moons which reflected the light from the tri-star system, it was as if the planet at night was in a perpetual form of twilight. Outside of Oga's, which was always crowded, the streets of Black Spire were almost deserted this time of day.

"Always seemed weird that Black Spire shuts down so early," Gor commente.

Yu looked at him out of the corner of her eye, "How would you know? You're usually at Oga's still."

"Well, I mean, it's what I heard," he shrugged.

The three of them made their way to the back of the shop, which Doc had instructed Huc to head to earlier. After a few knocks, the door slid open to reveal the Ithorian, "<Come in. Come in. Did anyone see you?>"

"Don't think so," Huc shook his head, glancing behind himself. "Didn't see any buckheads on the way."

"<Good. Good,>" Doc allowed them access and ferried them past the main shop area and into the back stock room. He slid his hand along the back wall of said room, an grasped a light pole that hung there. With a flick of the wrist, the light turned to the side and an almost imperceptible click could be heard on the other side of the wall. Almost silently, the wall moved back an revealed a tight, rocky passageway that snaked into the cliff that Doc's was built next to.

The four of them pressed through the cold, slightly damp stone, Gor with more difficulty than the others. After a few winding turns, they found themselves in some sort of natural antechamber. The walls curved up into a natural dome, with a hole at the top where the moonlight was filtering in, allowing them to see. Out of the rocks poked crystals that caught the moonlight and reflected it back as brilliant hues of green, blue, violet, and yellow. As soon as Huc passed into it, he felt a surge run through his extremities, almost like the air was charged with energy.

Sitting cross-legged in the middle of the room on top of a tattered tapestry was the old Mon Calamari, eyes closed in some sort of meditation. But he looked different. The simple coveralls and smock he wore to help stock and clean Doc's shop were replaced by a flowing light tan outfit with a brown robe covering it. Beside him, open cases of what looked like metal scraps sat.

His eyes opened as they approached, the light orange skin peeling back to reveal distinctive and expensive Mon Cal eyes. He looked up at Doc, an unsure expression on his face, "These are the ones?"

"<They are more than they appear,>" Doc assured him.

"Okay, wait," Gor shook his head as he stepped forward. "Rask? Rask is the cargo? I've gotten drinks with this guy. What's the Empire want with you?"

The Mon Calamari closed the cases in front of him and folded the tapestry he had been sitting on, "I am the cargo, Gor-Nada. Me and my meager effects."

Huc didn't see anything but credits at this. A simple ferry job was never a bad option, and all he had to do was outrun one measly Star Destroyer? Sounded like an easy pay day.

Yu wasn't convinced, "Yea, Rask. No offense, but you're a glorified stockboy. Why is there some Imp warlord looking for from you?"

The old amphibious alien sighed, he looked to Doc once more, "You are sure they are to be trusted?"

"<They look like pirates, but they are honorable. They always look to do what is right,>" the Ithorian assured him.

"Aw, thanks, Doc. I knew you liked us," Huc chuckled. "He's right. We have the opposite of love for the Empire. And I have the fastest ship out in this whole sector of space. We can get you past that Destroyer. No problem."

Their potential charge stepped forward and looked into Huc's eyes. He wasn't sure what the Mon Cal was getting at, but he looked as if he was peering into the privateer's soul. After a few moments, he signed again and closed his large eyes before beginning to explain, "The Imperial that was here was one of Emperor Palpatine's Sith acolytes. A fanatic to Palpatine's power."

Huc, Yu, and Gor all exchanged glances. Huc shrugged. None of them had any idea what he was talking about.

"Oh, excuse me," he laughed, almost croaking as he did so. "Sometimes I forget most in the galaxy do not know what we knew."

"Who is 'we'?" Yu asked, taking a seat on one of the crates, clearing interested in what Rask had to say.

"The Jedi," Rask responded with a slight smile. "Thought I supposed calling myself on of them has not been true since before the Empire was born. But once I was Rask Char, Jedi Knight and Commander in the Grand Army of the Republic."

Huc's jaw hung open in amazement. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Yu on the edge of her seat and on the other side of him Gor looked like he had been hit with a stun bolt. A real life Jedi was like stumbling on an undiscovered coaxium mine. Most people in the galaxy thought they were nothing more than myth, thought some of the old timers in the Resistance swore up and down they had seen some during the Clone Wars. There were rumors that the Rebel leader Luke Skywalker was one of them, but that's all.

Yet, Huc could almost sense the sadness and bitterness in Rask's voice when he told them his titles. Whatever had caused Char to leave the Jedi had left a deep scar on him.

"I...I don't believe it," Gor chuckled, his large upper body shook with happiness. "I didn't think I'd ever see another Jedi in my lifetime."

"And I never thought I would ever need to reveal myself," Rask admitted. "I came to Batuu to live a peaceful life hidden from the galaxy. But the Empire has found me. And what I know is far too important to fall into their hands. So now I ask you for help."

Huc didn't need to ask the other crew members. He knew what they had to do, and there was no way he was going to pass up the opportunity to travel with a Jedi, "We'll leave now. No need to waste any time. Duck should have the Dawn fueled up by now anyway."

Breia's home was just a short speeder ride from the Mos Espa space port. It sat in the desert not too far from the city, facing both Beggar's Canyon and the Northern Dune Sea to the Northeast. The homestead itself was a modest adobe style dwelling which sat on the backdrop of a seemingly endless desert. There was nothing else for miles, the only evidence of civilization in site was the shimmering, mirage like visage of Mos Espa in the distance.

From the moment they set foot on the desert world, Joren would have liked to have been anywhere but there. It was much to hot for his liking, and he much preferred the permacrete streets of the city to the dusty, sandy roadways of of this backwater world.

However, as he stood outside of Breia's home as the twin suns set on the desert, and the various purples, blues, oranges, and reds washed across the sands of Tatooine creating a kaleidoscope of colors in the moments before darkness fell, Joren was able to appreciate the raw beauty that could be found on the barren world.

He took his eyes away from the setting suns and looked to his left to Kelsa, who seemed to be transfixed on the dual sunset, however, her thoughts were not on the splendor of the natural spectacle before them, her thoughts dwelled in darkness, in loss. Joren knew that her thoughts were on her father, who's death she had yet to be able to mourn. Joren wanted more than anything to say something, he felt that he needed to say something. However, he did not know what it was that he could say to help her. He couldn't take away her pain, he knew that. He also knew what it was like to lose a parent. In fact, he had lost both of his. His father when he was a child, and then a number of years later his mother had disappeared while tracking a bounty out near Ord Mantell. It was that loss which gave him the understanding that there was absolutely nothing that he could say to make things right. That right now, in this moment, there were no words that he could offer that would lessen the weight of the loss that she was feeling. So instead, he put his arm over her shoulder and pulled her in closer to him, and said nothing.

After what seemed like an eternity, Kelsa looked up at him. Her expression was pained, like she wanted nothing more than to unleash her emotions and yell, and scream, and cry. Though, she was afraid. She was afraid that if she started, she would never be able to stop. Her father had been her whole world. He had always done his best to be sure that she had the things that he hadn't had growing up. He had loved her dearly, and doted on her all of her life.

And now he was gone. And she never got the chance to say goodbye.

“Do you know the last thing I ever said to him?-” She asked, finally breaking the silence. “-I told him I hated him. I wanted a new custom speeder, and said he wouldn't get it for me. We got into a fight, and the last thing I ever told my father was that I hated him.” She said as she began sobbing.

“Hey, that doesn't matter kiddo.” He said, shushing her as he tightened his hold on her. “Your dad knew exactly how you felt about him. He knew how much you loved him, and he loved you. He might not have always told you, but he sure as hell showed you. Everything he did was for you. Don't ever forget that.” Joren told her.

“Joren, I told him I hated him. By the stars, I was so stupid. I wish I could take it back. I wish I could take it all back.” She said with tears streaming down her face.

“We all have things that we wish we could do over. But that's just not how life works. Don't let one little fight define how you remember your father. He was a good man who always did right by you. You were his world, his everything. He knew how much you loved him, that's what's important.” Joren told her as the twin suns seemingly dipped down below the dunes of the distant desert.

Looking to the ground, Kelsa leaned against him as she put her arm around his waist. Looking at the ground, she gave a slight nod and they slowly began walking, arms linked, back to Breia's home. As the list light of day faded into night, Joren paused for a moment, looking back out over the vast desert, once again getting the distinct feeling that somewhere close by, someone is watching.

He breathed in and out. The horns on the top of his milky colored head retracted an inch, then returned back fully erect. Every muscle in his body remained strong and breathing. His abs strecthed inside and out because of his deep breathing, and his back stayed flat. And, while he looked into the Force he levitated a foot from the very hot ground he was on.

Mustafar was a dark side spot. Today like everyday it was flowing lava and most of the life belonging to the planet was unheard of, beasts and bug creatures. Darth Simula did not know its particular history, he only heard of civil wars and old Sith Lords executing Jedi after the Republic captured them in a big insurrection. The Sith apprentice found a large rock to put under him while he absorbed the dark energies around him.

It completed him. In his mind he saw a man that was on fire, and he felt an immense grief. He saw his brother Phinix strapped to an operating table, then there was himself, which he felt more than he seen. He saw himself, but only for a moment because he felt more than he could see: he carried a lot of fear with him, hosted rage that was instilled in him, and felt power that made him tremble, at least on his scale.

He stepped out of his meditation, away from the big rock, and away from his introspection. His heavy boots crushed the mountain of tiny smoldering rocks when he walked. He wore a black cloak that reached up to the top of his head from the bottom of his body. Inside of his cape he donned a long brown tunic with a yellow cumberbund wrapped around the brown tunic. Inside of his tunic there was a pouch holding his metallic lightsaber hilt where rested a red kyber crystal. He also kept a DC-17 blaster tucked inside of his belt. These are his clothes, which are strong indicators that he is a Sith apprentice, and he feels pity for whoever tests his skills with the lightsaber.

He walked slowly. There was a small bank in front of him. Darth Simula leaped with his right foot and started climbing the little slope. He walked fast and hard and continued looking at his LH-class freighter. It was bulky and ring shaped, and it was one of several starships Darth Diabulos stocked in his inventory. He liked it, and jumped to the cliff.

He sped up and climbed some more before he jumped across a clearing that separated the coal hill from a big random cliff where the Red Assault had been parked. He breathed to himself and pulled out a controller tablet. The shuttle's ramp demagnitized and opened up. He walked up the ramp, then it closed shut behind him. The young Sith sat down in the cockpit while he held onto the tablet, which was the ignition. The engine accelerated until it requested the number codes to prepare for travel. He entered the codes into the tablet, linked it up to a data transer cable, and started to lift. The alternate piloting specifications were manned by a self aware operating system.

He entered 0-17 on the navigation pad. He did so in a cloud of smoke and debris trailing behind him. The freighter started to rock, there was a beeping alert, then it started to suspend into space. The U-shaped starship looked like a mythological banner in the polluted skies of Mustafar as he ascended through the atmosphere. Soon, he departed from the burning planet and headed northeast to Naboo. The two smugglers he contracted told him they were familiar with it, and that all it had was hills and ponds, and an underwater population that wouldn't bother them.

Several days elapsed. Darth Simula would grow frustarted, or think about things in a negative way. Pointedly, he thought of his master and his unknown plans. Why was it so secret? There was very few people Diabolus, Tarak, or Simula trusted. Darth Diabolus picked him for a reason that day, and he had been rewarded for the duties that he preformed, but the loom of secrecy around whatever object the dark master was designing and manipulating was extreme. He wanted to challenge Tarak to a fight to show Darth Diabolus who was mightier and fast and a true Force using killer.

He was napping in the pilot chair when he awoke to the onboard perimeter scanner. Darth Simula cracked his neck and stretched his arms. Naboo was ten minutes away and closing distance. First he checked on a few things like the landing gears and the population of some computers to make sure none were overclocked, there was no service line failures, and a fast sweep on the entire vessel's strucrure. Everything looked clear and the ship said two minutes until landing. Naboo's atmosphere engulfed the Red Assault, and he was pulled in.

He slowly landed inside of some trees. The land was great looking. There was lush greenery, waterfalls, great birds flying over head, and a great many rolling hills. The smell of the wind, and the force of how gentle the wind blew over him encited a moment to appreciate the Naboo. Then, he saw a human-looking person running away from him. His eyes grew big, and he let out a snarl.

He reached into one of his pouches inside of his black cloak and transmitted a messasge to the smugglers that he was on time, and waited. They rerouted a message to him telling him they were in a yellow cargo ship and they said they could see him from where they were. He looked, but he could not sight the contractors. Then, he picked them up with his feelings. They felt uneasy. And, he located them with his eyes. He used binoculars.

He started his march across the planes. The wind felt good. The odors in the grasslands were fresh. Even the sky looked brighter than most he had seen. He walked through it, which would normally put a person in a good mood. But, he wasn't a Sith apprentice for nothing. He continued walking up a hill while the contractors were in sight. One of them was called Saya, and the other one he could forget, like the first one.

Dath Simula reached them. They exchanged salutations and then discussed the stolen goods. The Sith apprentice was not familiar with their species. He apologized but they all could speak in Basic Standard language. Darth Simula enforced his superiority by telling them what he would do if there was broken merchandise, or phony microchips. After only a few rude pleasantries he loosened up and so did they. Inside of their ship was two speeders equipped with several rods on the tail ends of them.

"What is your name?" Simula asked. He was looking at the humanoid who wasn't an alien like Saya.

"I am Aznion. I'm from Corellia, and I can patch up an inch sized hole in a cable," introduced Aznion.

"That will do, Aznion. Let me inform you that you will be riding in the back of the speeder. I have your money. I will trade it for the merchandise once everything is clear, and definite."

"This is one of the biggest loads I've ever run," Saya said. "Huge!"

So, all three of the bad guys entered the ship and started disconnecting the speeders. They removed the in-placed electronic anchors on the opposite sides of the speeders and ran some calculations to make sure both units could tow the goods. Simula mounted on top of one of the bikes, then Aznion jumped over on top of the back of the seat. Saya took a step on a footboard and jumped over the machine to engage his bike as well. Darth Simula said it was effecient, and instructed the smugglers to attach the overloaded capacity capable trailer and load the goods onto them.

Simula's new cargo incuded several power system elements, bacta tanks, and microchips that Saya and Aznion stated was one of the most difficult items they had ever pirated. The bacta tanks were easy enough to come by, and they admitted that some of the parts were excavated from reliable junkyards. The alien man who Simula didnt like for some reason edged in that it was a part of the trade, and assured the Sith apprentice that eveything was as functional as it could be.

The three of them attached three repulsorlift cargo haulers and made it from the hill down to the "Red Assault" LH freighter. There wasn't much conversation. Saya and Aznion were jovial about the huge credit pay they were receiving, but Simula didn't want to make friends. When at Simula's vessel they stalled everything and loaded the goods inside of two cargo bays. After they loaded the items, the two smugglers were distributed 60,000 credits. Then, when the two petty criminals sped away, Simula boarded his ship and checked everything, and prepared to go to Tatooine.

TATOOINE

Simula arrived on Tatooine. He landed near a Hutt plaza where all kinds of things were traded and sold. What he witnessed was smut and lies, and he decided to stay onboard in case of trouble like being found out. He sat down in his chair for a moment, allowing a breathe to escape. Next, he checked out his systems and declared that things were looking good for him and his cargo. If Diabolus wanted the smuggled items transferred to his ship they would pay some jugheads to haul it to the other ship. If it were to stay in his ship, he required fuel. Regardless of fuel, cargo, hutts, or the construction of a super star desoyer, Simula felt his master would be satisified.

He had been told to remain quiet until he reached Tatooine. Now he was there, so he retrieved his holocomm and signaled the input frequency setting and spoke into it. "Lord, I am on Tatooine. I am outside of a Hutt factory."

Such a pleasant little world, our Chandrila. Home to Mon Mothma, Galactic Senator and a Leader in the Rebellion...a place of peace and calm throughout the land...and the seat of the New Republic, now that the Empire frays both at the edges and from within. It's not the first time that great powers of people shatter and lay broken upon the floor, hopelessly trying to pick up the pieces when the next phase already seeks to replace their order with its own. A fool's game he would not play, not in earnest.



Order...is a lie.

Before it, a Senate and a loose Confederacy showed their equal inability to control the darkest desires of all sapient life. As you bind many together, you quickly find out that they wish to tear away in as many directions, each according to their own whim. You cannot keep them forever, so you entice them into your orbit, bring them to your way of thinking by cunning or by force. But...how long can you truly master their desires? Should you not encourage their freedom and only make demands of them as necessary? Shall they not flourish outside of captivity, acting upon their drives without inhibition?

Through chaos, there is freedom.

Every being has the freedom to choose, but they are ruled by fears, misgivings, doubt... It holds them back, plunges them towards inevitable failure. Republics and Confederacies afraid of their own power, Empires afraid of their own shadows as they await treachery, and militaries... Never was a greater fear born than that of this simple phrase: The Enemy. Once you know where you stand in the universe, however, there is no fear. Once you see the paths of all other lifeforms and can tell, just by a glance, where they are going and where they've come from, your mind is clear and nothing can stop you.

In freedom, there is clarity.

Fools who walk with their head lowered, unable to see to the right or left as they plod on towards their destiny, are easily manipulated. You have need of only the will and the talent for speech. Of course, those who embrace the Force in all its splendors can achieve more. Much more. Power resides in a word, a glance, a gesture - all these things in the right place can cause so much, an avalanche of expectation leading to a disastrous effect, but only with a mind open to the possibilities.

In clarity, there is power.

There is a purpose, a force in of itself within the Force. The Force does not merely surround and penetrate all things. It has ebb and flow. Some call this balance, but...if this power flows throughout the universe, and that life only makes up one tiny percent of itself, then the balance of the Force is truly made for the galaxies themselves, not this idle boast they call history. No no...this is but a blink of the eye, a small gesture, a minor bump on the road. Take for instance...this room.

The room was an office inside a building within the capital of the planet Chandrila, seat of the New Galactic Republic. Such trappings for only one room! And yet... And yet, it moved with purpose. Not to the benefit of any line in the sand mind you, to any side per se, but something else. It moved according to the will of the man who sat within it, a fairly handsome and somewhat gentlemanly being. A human, adult of age and black of hair. He was simply doing the work of any who would be head of security, here in the Capital. He read reports, he conferred with colleagues, he set teams to put down civil unrest, and he allocated resources for the various endeavours undertaken by the Republic.

He also concealed a number of things in his coat, such as a rather formidable tube-shaped device.

They knew him as Zaras Oren, and - as far as anybody could tell - he was exceedingly good at the job he was given for his attention to detail, quick decision-making skills, and exemptlary marksmanship. The man in his office sat across from him, irritated his petty problems. The only reason he ever saw the man or anybody else was because the organization and solution of their petty problems allowed him to do what it is he wanted to do. By facilitating fools, you can slip whatever you like under the table and they'll be all-too-happy to ignore it. This particular gentleman was from the Republic War Office, Medical Division, and he had made the complaint of missing articles, believing them stolen and either sold in some black market affair or in preparation for such. He couldn't have been more wrong.

"Soldiers go out on the line, pilots thrust themselves out into space, and all of them risk sudden death at the end of a blaster or in an explosion, but for those that manage to survive the worst, they NEED their medical supplies. What do I tell them when I don't have them and I should, huh?! The medical supplies must be found!"

Zaras sighed, enduring this rant as though he'd heard it many times before or words to the effect. He had, but that isn't what annoyed him. No, what bothered him was that he was preparing the man's placation and he wasn't giving him quiet while he went through the motions for the full effect! No one appreciates the subtle dance anymore, those little nuances that make life worth living. He now gave the man a tired, but calm look, one that might easily be mistaken for disdain, for he had it in large quantities, larger even than his missing supplies...which of course were obsconded with by the man before him.

"Mr. Aerslin, while it is not this organization's responsibility to keep immaculate record of non-security matters, it so happens that we DO - in fact - since the transfer of resources from planet to ship and ship to planet - to say nothing of ship to ship - IS within our purview. To that end, I bequeath to you the facts as I know them. The 'missing' bacta tanks and fluid are not, in fact, missing. They were transferred out to outgoing ships, such as the Escalor, the Triskele, and the Mondao. Additionally, and you may find this very interesting, an independent freighter hired by Dr. Zones was also sent to pick up certain supplies for the University of Bar'leth."

That last one was actually true. He let him see the datapad on that one.

"'Delivery to a Dr. Indoumodo Zones, care of the 'No Don't Put That There'? Is this some kind of a joke?!"

Zaras delivered an empahtic shrug that solidified his confusion along with the gentleman.

"The registry checks out, and the owner and operator of said vessel is a former Rebel Pilot. What can I say?"

"And you seriously expect me to go back with this information as explanation to everyone else?"

"Yes, Mr. Aerslin. It is the truth, plain and clear."

His eyes suddenly dulled. The Force was moving...

"It is the truth...plain and clear."

"You will place your trust in security on this matter."

"I will place your trust in security..."

"Failure in these duties will being the Empire to your doorstep. You don't want that, right?"

"I don't want that... I can't let that happen..."

"I'm so very pleased to hear that, sir. Now, if you will please move along. I'm a very busy man. This planet won't mind itself, after all."

He left, giving thanks, of all things! That was certainly the best part of his work. They thanked him for his treachery. Of course, not every person may be fooled in his manner, which is why he engrained this reinforcement of the belief and the 'truth' in others, getting records to line up and all. Worst comes to worst, Zaras would find himself as baffled as you are, and would hasten to find someone to be responsible so it can never happen again...until the next time. Now, during this conversation, he had received a call upon his personal holo-comm. He was not ready, so he let it wait while he sent this man out. And then...out it came to reveal the face of Darth Simula. He was reporting - judging by his tone alone, he must have been successful. Indeed, Simula would only report failure if he felt that a great deal of effort and resources have been expended with little result, as would Tarak in his place. The man behind the desk, a Dark Lord of the Sith, smiled at the Zabrak.

"I trust your endeavours have born fruit. I, myself, have sequestered supplies away, though finding a proper site will be the real issue. And it occurs to me that a work force will be necessary. Droids would be easiest, as it's only a job of assembly. Still, if you have supplies, I would like them taken to the Dread Accomplace. Anyone who sees it must be made to forget about it later...or die."

The plan moves inexorably forwards. The purpose pushes through that ebb and flow they call balance, and soon...destiny itself may be destroyed. Freedom for all. Freedom, chaos, fear... Glorious.

With this power, I shall break the balance. The Force will never be the same.

Fear shot into the officers eyes as boots scuffed and moved throughout the hangars. Blasters drawn and aimed at the individual with the orange blades. While nobody on this particular ship had seen anyone with a lightsaber, they had heard tales and spoken to people who had. They knew of the Imperial Knights and their skills and abilities. Without so much as a second thought he pulled his communicator up to his face “We have a Code 66 in the Hangar Bay I repeat a Code 66!” He dropped his free hand to his holdout blaster, raising it and taking a couple of shots while the stormtroopers elsewhere in the hangar started to do the same.



There was no hesitation, and in fact perhaps a certain look of satisfaction on the Zabrak’s face as this occurred. Numbers, they had, but how quickly they forget the folly of reckless gun-usage, as Tarak swept up off his feet and swung his sabers around. Blades intersected blaster bolts and sent them off in different directions, including the officer’s shots. Mind you, the way he jumped was to allow a number of them to miss, but several surely returned to sender or off to another troop instead. It didn’t matter how many died initially, or that reinforcements would shortly be on their way. Tarak had plans on how to clear the room already, his hands making gestures as soon as he landed.

One hand merely swept up in an attempt to toss the Officer into the ceiling, to which he hoped to hear the smashing of his fool head in as he enacted the other part of the plan. The other hand was soon performing a slightly-more complex task, but any man who’s memorized his ship’s console could in fact perform the task. Ship’s ignition, hovering thrust, engage weaponry, and open fire. Any troops still within the room would see the Cleaving Tusk activate, set into hover mode, wings extend and guns point forwards, and then...rapid blaster-fire from the vehicle as it shot around the room with Tarak mentally adjusting the attitude control to clear the room of everything but himself, not to mention cause severe damage to everything in sight.

As the ship raised up and started to fire the blaster bolts it tore into the walls of the ship killing those on the other side and beginning to gut the ship. While the stormtroopers continued to raise fire upon the individual with the saber, through a door at the back of the hangar two Dark Troopers walked in. Raising their arm cannons and started laying in fire towards the ship. Shots hitting the shields, the energy dissipating against the shields. Whether it would hold up against sustained fire however was another matter.

The distinctive screams of a TIE Fighter could be heard as one came howling into the hangar of Resolute. The twi’lek behind the fighter’s controls quickly assessed the chaotic situation before him. The Imperial Knight had been summoned by one of the Imperial officers aboard the vessel and it was time for order to be brought. Iwil was surprised to see the cause of the struggle wielding a red lightsaber, the telltale sign of a dark side user. It had been sometime since he had seen such a blade in usage. Perhaps not since he had laid his own down on his final day as an Inquisitorius then forged his new lightsabers. This berserking Force user tinged of the dark side to an almost shocking degree as he attacked the assembled Imperial forces inside the hangar. The knight’s eyes focused on the Zabrak’s starship which fired wildly across the hangar.

Iwil hovered his own starfight in place, then practically slammed his fingers onto the controls of his ship’s blaster cannons. He had to take that obstacle out of commission first, it would make bringing down this dark sider that much easier. The Imperial knight fired upon the ship with intent as he dealt a number upon the foreign vessel. Even if it fired upon his TIE it could take the damage, Imperial Knights were issued upgraded variants of the classic Imperial starfighter. Increased shielding the most important feature in this type of situation. Iwil used the Force to take over control of the cannon’s controls as he moved his hand to open the top hatch of his fighter. A moment later he ascended from inside his fighter, standing atop it, the craft still laying into the Cleaving Tusk. The crimson armored knight had his lightsabers in hand as he leapt down from the top of his ship, then ignited them as he darted at the dark sider from an angle.

The Cleaving Tusk did not have to hold up under Dark Trooper fire for long. It was designed to be a sleek and versatile fighter, and though he was not at the helm exactly...Tarak still took much delight in swinging it around so that the energy bomb launcher in back could fire upon the Dark Troopers, causing quite an explosion! Indeed, the Sith was laying waste to much of this hangar, alarms blaring as the whole area and hallways beyond were compromised. Fires raised and Troopers would have a more difficult time even approaching the area now...as indeed it should be. Tarak had established a perimeter of death and destruction that, eventually, no fool would dare to cross. It was tactically more sound to await his approach than funnel into the meat grinder. True, there was a literal army on board, but would the commander of this vessel dare throw his men away so casually? No, the better question was...could he afford to, knowing that they needed every able body to throw at the Republic? Ahhh...now that was indeed a quandary. Not immediately important, though, as Tarak felt his senses pricked just prior to the arrival of the TIE. The Force spoke to both ends, and the players in their parts knew that the other was there in the great game of life. Very soon, the opponents were paired off, Cleaving Tusk against the enhanced TIE, and the Zabrak against the Twi'lek. The former of the two battles was mainly in the background at this point, however. The main point was here, with these two warriors of the Force. To the other’s initial approach, Tarak struck with both fiery sabers in a parry that was made to deflect Iwik’s more agile approach with unyielding strength, his feet planted to remain as resolute as the ISD’s own name. He smirked at the attacker.

"Greetings..."

Oh, there was so much hostility here, and fierce joy in his work. That one word alone seemed layered with it, as though he were to say ‘Welcome to my killing pit’. He was very much in the center of his own element here, with flames and destruction everywhere, sirens blaring and panic no doubt racing throughout the ship as they desperately clambered for some means to alleviate themselves of this menace.

“End this idiocy now, surrender. There is no way for you to make it out of this,” Iwil replied as their lightsabers clashed and the hangar sounded around them. Righteous white clashed powerfully with magmatic orange as the two dueled whilst their starfighters fired upon each other. The twi’lek darted to the side, then took a defensive stance with both blades posed at the ready.

“You reek of the dark side. It has put you into an unwinnable situation.” The Imperial Knight added as he ensured his feet were properly planted, then lifted two fingers off one of his weapons to signal for the brute to attack him.

He always enjoyed facing dark siders, they were so clouded with misguided arrogance and rage. This one was practically boiling over with the dark, it reminded Iwil of himself in his inquisitor days. He would strike down this brute if he needed to, but taking the Zabrak alive could yield some answers. Iwil could signal for more backup if he needed it, but he didn’t believe he would. Though if he did perhaps the Knight Commander would be the one to arrive on the scene next. Dredar had gone away some time ago on a mission directly from Lord Imperium, only stating a few simple words to the other Knights before his departure.

The Zabrak emitted a derisive laugh and shrugged at Iwil.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about. This was merely a disagreement between myself and customs. I was going through proper channels. It’s your own fault for not being accommodating."

He was mocking him, treating all of this as a minor inconvenience, including the Twi’lek himself. In no way was he underestimating that he was dealing with another experienced Force-user, but he was neither intimidated by the man, either. He would treat it with as much respect that was necessary, no more and no less. Overestimation led to pointless time-wasting and underestimation led to a quick folly. Always live on that edge of the knife where your actions are exactly where they need to be, to find that area of the perfect kill, one way or another… For instance, the best way to crush those who think they have the upper-hand is to let them believe so...right before the unexpected occurs. That stance the Twi’lek was using… It looked rather deft at reacting to the attack incoming. How would it be, then, if Tarak reached out and pulled with the Force, so that his enemy might fall forwards and off balance for him to bring down his own sabers?! Well, that was the aim, anyway.

“I don’t believe that. Drop your weapons and surrender.” Iwil shot back with a fierce glare. The trained Force user took notice of what the brute was about to try as he felt the Force.

The twi’lek instead channeled the Force and dashed directly at his opponent. Both blades spinning with fury as he channeled his aggression into pure speed. As he closed in on the zabrak he cleaved at two different levels of his enemy, one swing at chest height while the other lashed towards his belt level. The Imperial Knight sprinted at an almost blinding speed as he charged, the rank and file troopers around them simply watching while the two starfights continued to duke it out in air. The summoned death troopers continued to pour blaster bolts into the stranger’s vessel, it surely wasn’t going to last much longer under such duress. Iwil had to end this nonsense as quickly as possible, it was disgraceful to the Imperium that this dark side fueled beast had come here and made such a scene.

The movement was unexpected and fast, causing Tarak to take a backfoot as he reacted by instinct to defend himself. Where once were the sabers ready to tear down an enemy, they instead jerked to parry aside and force themselves against the Twi’lek’s light sabers, one pointed up and one pointed down as these plasma blades were pushed away. He surprised him with that speed, but even if Tarak was not that fleet of foot, his reactions were able to move quickly enough. It put him on the defensive, and that was fine. He gave a little grunt of effort and a snarl for effect. At the moment, he became aware of more gunfire than normal. Interfering whelps again. Did they not learn the first few times? Very well, we will dispense with the distractions. The Zabrak’s eyes narrowed and his memory of the controls - how he’d handle this if he were in the cockpit - showed clearly in his mind. With a shift, the somewhat-ailing Cleaving Tusk would pull a sudden one-eighty turn and fire its energy bomb launcher point-blank at the TIE while turning its guns on the troops. That would certainly handle soldiers and ships for the moment, maybe even down the Imperial fighter entirely. It mattered not. At roughly the same time, Tarak put the two handles of his light sabers together and they locked in place, making it the assassin’s double-saber before shoving back at the Twi’lek with a growl and lashing out at him as though his body were a devastating whirlwind. With his body spin-striking the weapon thus, with his own offensive pressed, the other Force-user would have to be very quick to defend, very fleet of foot to escape, or very dead in the extreme.

The twi’lek smirked as he bounded forward, hitting his opponent with both blades. Though neither broke through the sturdy defenses it was a positive sign that he could use his upper hand in agility to find holes to strike. This brute was no slouch though, he was well trained even if his mind was clouded with dark side addled arrogance. Iwil would bring the zabrak down nonetheless, either through a disabling or death. He furrowed his brow as more fire was focused upon his TIE fighter as it continued the pilotless dogfight above. It did not matter to him if the ship was destroyed, if there was one thing which the Imperium excelled at it was manufacturing war machinery. As the dark sider launched into a whirlwind the twi’lek backpeddled with both his blades bouncing upwards to deflect blows. He created space between the two of them until he was fully clear.

The Imperial knight used the force to fuel his frame then launched into the air as he soared above his opponent. He landed cleanly, then called upon the force once more as he plucked some debris from the side. With a grunt he flung it towards the zabrak, then followed it up with another piece of debris. Both debris flew rapidly towards the brute. Neither were massive in their size but he wasn’t looking to crush his hulking opponent with them. Iwil just needed a brief break of concentration from this intruder, then he could launch in and deliver a potentially crippling blow.

Yes, the other Force-user was very nimble. If not for his Master’s use of quick and flowing attacks, Tarak might’ve had more openings, and thus be less difficult foe to deal with. It was never easy, dealing with that, but his Master insisted that he work at it, and although he was the Master for a reason, it was with great pride that he managed to push the man back, at times. Now, however, there was the unknown with this Twi’lek, and a multitude of potential problems. In all honesty, this could drag out for a considerable time, and while only a short time had passed in reality, it was long in terms of battle. Indeed, the Zabrak was beginning to harbor ideas for a plan of attack that would render this one here irrelevant, for a time. For now, though, he would see what he could do with this annoying insect.

Even now, as Iwil leapt overhead, Tarak followed his movements, keeping his senses open for some sort of sneak-tactic. He didn’t seem to quite adopt those. That was disappointing, and yet not so, at the same time. For instance, the thrust of debris was caught up in a spin of his connected sabers. There was, in the Empire, this contingent of lazy Force-hunters - the Purge Troopers - who, among those skilled in the Force to hunt their own kind, carried these automated spinning double-sabers. Pathetic. You learn your weapon well or it will fail you. The Zabrak swept the weapon around even as he was deflecting and destroying the small debris, keeping his head out of the way as he did. Iwil would probably notice, before his charge, that Tarak had cut what amounted to a bloody swath in the deckplating before him. The blades kept giving off bits and drips of heated plasma. That last action had even momentarily set his own cloak on fire...not that he seemed to notice. Anyway, this became important because his surge forwards would quickly find a problem.

He might’ve sensed it before he heard it, but he definitely heard it before he saw it. The Zabrak caused the deckplates and electronics just beneath to flip up at him using an explosion of the Force in the floor, bringing it up at him like a wave of solid matter, or a door slamming in one’s face. However Iwil chose to react to this, his opponent’s next act was clear, stabbing right through the plating to try and skewer him while distracted, and surging that blade up through the impromptu wall to try and get at him, should he jump over! Not just a brute, then, this blackguard. Tactical moves, anticipation and reaction, and above all there was still yet that aim to dominate his foe through controlled chaos. Whatever Master trained him was doing more than making him angry. He enjoyed this. He was making sport of this. All the emotions were fuel for his fire...and potentially insanity.

The well trained twi’lek watched the sizable opponent’s reaction carefully as the debris bounded towards him. He didn’t expect them to do any actual damage but hopefully create a break in his opponent’s concentration in order to strike. He was surprised at what Tarak instead did, as the Force rippled through the floor beneath him. Iwil launched himself upwards, blades in a defensive position as he expected a lightsaber attack. He was met with that as the blade’s came surging for him. The Imperial Knight caught the blades between his own, as the blazing white met with the molten red of his opponent. He used his agility to once more create space between them, though as the twi’lek landed he caught eye of a fleet suddenly emerging. Clear through the hangar bay doors.

“Are those your friends, Sith?” Iwil asked with a smirk, as he paced carefully across from his opponent. Still ensuring to keep his resolve on the fight at hand. Having yet to see any laser fire emit from this newly arrived fleet of Imperial vessels. Then the twi’lek dashed towards his enemy, shifting side to side in an attempt to catch Tarak off guard. Either way both of his weapons’ blades would strike in from the side, a bold move but a necessary one to try to gain the upper hand.

The lack of any death scream or cries of pain disappointed the Zabrak. As much as he delighted in an opponent worthy of his brutality, the fact is that he would’ve preferred something a little more decisive and quick at this moment. It was, after all, an entire Star Destroyer’s worth of opposition, and there were other vessels out there, as well. In fact, surprisingly, there were now even more ships in the immediate vicinity than there had been just a moment ago! This had not been anticipated… As much as he had figured upon there being problems landing on Coruscant, friction between him and the local Imperials, and indeed the trials and tribulations of executing a whole crew...the notion of yet more ships just showing up all of a sudden had not crossed his mind. The situation was growing just a bit too complex for his liking. Better to cut this little venture short and move on, or at least find another way to handle things. Perhaps...yes… Those ships were not falling into formation with the rest, but were in opposition. Perhaps they were his friends. He merely laughed at Iwil, neither confirming nor denying what he had asked about. Best to keep him on his toes, keep him worried. Speaking of which, the Twi’lek was dashing at him again, full force, to throw him back. Tarak put forth his own sabers in a strong defense, but let his footing go so that he could be pushed back closer to the hangar’s atmospheric shield.

"Give my regards to the Command Tower...and BEGONE!!!"

A strong shockwave of the Force lashed out at Iwil as he thrust his sabers back at him hard, working to catapult him physically and launch him willfully so that he might be thrown across the room. There, he would bring his ship to heel so that he could leave the other warrior behind.

Iwil grunted as he was thrown backwards by the shockwave, the Imperial knight doing his best to keep his footing as the Zabrak darted for his starship. He did manage to block the forceful red blades with his own but was still sent away from the Sith. Tarak did not affirm or deny any allegiance with this newly arrived Imperial fleet, though the twi’lek did not believe the hulking Force user was aligned with them. He did not see any shots fired from the imposingly large fleet which meant it may very well be a peaceful arrival as opposed to an assault on the galactic crown jewel. He turned his attention back to Tarak as the Sith dashed towards his ship in order to escape. Iwil did not give pursuit, instead he brought his commlink towards his jaw and spoke.

“Let the Zabrak go. Get a tracker on his ship.” The Imperial knight stated firmly as he watched Tarak get closer to his ship. He did not know where this warrior was fleeing too, but if he attempted to make a run for the surface of Coruscant he’d surely be tailed by Imperium forces. Though this newly arrived fleet may have drawn some attention away from the bold Sith’s arrival. With a flicker of both Iwil deactivated his two weapons as he stood amongst the rubble from their rapid encounter.

Admiral Kava, Dredar Ragant, Koren Ozzell
NMS and Heat

Anticipation grew aboard the Lambda shuttle as it descended toward the designated landing pad near the Imperial Palace on Coruscant. The shuttle shook as it made its final descent and touched down on the landing pad. Admiral Kava stood before the boarding ramp, surrounded by her contingent of troops. More than two dozen stormtroopers stood behind her. To her left were a pair of death troopers, their black armor glistening in the shuttle’s interior lights. To her right, was a second pair of death troopers, with a third pair standing directly behind her. And of course, her trusted security droid Beeone was not far behind. Kava had to admit, it was an impressive entourage, and she was just glad that it was her entourage.

After what seemed like an eternity, the shuttle came to a rest on the landing pad, and the boarding ramp slowly lowered itself to the ground.

At last. Kava thought to herself. It had been far too long since she had set foot on the Imperial capital world. The last time she had been on Coruscant, she had accompanied Thrawn shortly after leaving the Officers Academy. She had been in awe of the city planet’s splendor. The bright lights, the constant motion...it had called to her. She had been in awe of the capital, an awe that had only been surpassed when she had found herself in the presence of not only Grand Admiral Thrawn and Lord Vader, but the Emperor himself.

How times had changed. There was no Lord Vader. Thrawn had been missing, and presumed dead for years. And the Emperor was gone. The once great Empire was a fractured shell of its former self, led by overgrown children playing war lord. The faction that had retained at least some semblance of its former self was the Grand Imperium, which under the leadership of Ozzell would never reach its full potential. However; now with Kava making her presence known, it stood a chance of being great. With her help, the galaxy would once again know the peace and order that it had experienced under the watchful eye of the Galactic Empire.

Finally, the boarding ramp had come to a stop as it made contact with the surface of the landing pad, and Kava knew that this was her only chance to make a true impression.

“Look alive men, we have an Empire to save.” She said with a grin as she led her troops off of the shuttle and toward the garrison that had amassed to greet them.

In orbit above the planet the Lord Commander of the Imperial Knights waited patiently on the bridge of the Nightfury. His eyes gazed through the frontal windows of the Imperium vessel as he stared intently at the imposing fleet of starships. It seemed he would have to flash his diplomatic side once more. Behind the crimson armored man Captain Dystra folded his hands behind his back as one of the bridge crewmen spoke.

“The Super Star Destroyer Lazarus is returning our frequency. Establishing a line of communication now.”

“Greetings Lord Commander Ragant, this is Captain Bryce of the SSD Lazarus. You have no reason to worry, we come entirely with peace intentions. Admiral Kava has already gone planetside to the Imperium Palace to meet with Lord Ozzel.” The officer replied, his tone entirely calm.

“Who exactly are you? You came to this system, with that fleet in order to negotiate?” The Force user asked as he stared at the man’s holographic image on the screen. Behind him Dystra stayed silent along with the rest of the bridge crew.

“The Galactic Empire, Lord Commander and yes we have. I am sure Admiral Kava would be delighted to make your acquaintance planetside.” Bryce replied with a calm nod. It seemed Dredar would have to speak directly with this ‘Kava’ in order to get any real information.

“Very well then. I will head down there immediately. Farewell Captain,” Dredar said back as the Imperial officer’s hologram faded with a nod. “Inform Lord Ozzel I will be arriving at the palace. Keep the Nightfury in orbit. I want to know immediately of any changes in formation or if more of their ships arrive.”

“As you wish Lord Commander.” Captain Dystra complied with a firm salute as the head of the Imperial Knights walked out of the bridge.

Dredar shifted towards the elevator, as he stepped inside his eyes fell once more upon the Lazarus. It was a bold move to bring such a powerful looking fleet to orbit the gem of the galaxy. ‘Kava’ must have truly been seeking out an alliance of some sort, or perhaps an annexation. He truly feared the latter, the last thing the resurgent Grand Imperium needed was to enter into a conflict while the real enemy lingered at the doorsteps. They had spent years rebuilding, forging alliances and biding their time. To plunge into a wasteful conflict like that would truly be a fool's errand for both factions.

Upon his arrival to the hangar he was met by the death troopers which had been assigned to him. He’d have them brought down in another transport, Dredar was going to take his personal TIE fighter. The Lord Commander needed the Vigilance if things went south though he sincerely hoped that would not happen.

Admiral Kava made her way down the loading ramp, flanked by her landing party and the hulking security droid Beeone, she marched straight toward the Imperium troops that stood at the edge of the landing pad. The fact that Ozzell had met her with nearly an entire legion of Imperium troops was pleasing to her. It told her that her presence had ruffled the feathers of the Imperium High Command.

Good. She thought to herself. The fact was, that Kava believed that Imperium needed a bit of a shake up. Ozzell and the Imperium had become complacent in its current state, and with its soft policies towards the so called “New Republic,” had given the rebels a legitimacy that they had lacked even after the death of the Emperor. This complacency had made the Imperium complicit. The lack of action was unacceptable, and if she had anything to do with it, a thing of the past.

She scanned the gathered stormtroopers and other Imperium agents until her eyes fell on an older man standing between two large sentry droids. Though the man had aged considerably since the last time she had seen him, most likely due to the stresses of leading what had remained of an empire, there was no mistaking that the man that she was looking at, although greyer and more worn, was indeed Koren Ozzell. Her crimson eyes met his gaze as she approached him, coming to a stop several feet in front of the Lord Imperium and offered a crisp salute.

“Good to see you again, Lord Ozzell.-” She said as she extended a hand. “-we have much to discuss.” She said as her next words were cut off by the whine of a lone TIE fighter making its way to the landing pad.

As the Vigilance broke through the clouds above the bustling ecumenopolis Dredar’s eyes narrowed on the Imperial palace as his modified TIE fighter moved towards it. He kept his hands firmly on the controls of his starfight as he took in the sight of several figures gathering outside the structure. A legion of Imperium aligned stormtroopers caught his eyes as the Vigilance descended towards another part of the landing pad. Another group strolled towards them, led by a female Chiss. That must have been ‘Kava’, the leader of this bold Imperial fleet that’d arrived at the galactic capitol.

The Vigilance flew over the intersecting parties as the two head Imperials exchanged salutes, his presence noticed by both of them. He could almost notice a smirk on Ozzel’s face as Dredar’s TIE screamed above them in its descent. The Force user gently set his starfighter down a short distance from the two factions. Then Dredar flipped all of the switches off inside of his fierce vessel and began to emerge from the top of the starship, clad in full armor and helm. The man then cleanly jumped down the top of his starfighter, then calmly strode towards the two groups.

“Lord Ozzell, I was not aware of such an important meeting happening. My apologies for interrupting. The mission was a success, it went without a hitch,” The crimson armored man stated from beneath his helmet with a firm bow towards the head of the Grand Imperium. Then he reached both hands up to remove the helm from his head. As he revealed his face his eyes turned towards the Chiss. “I am Knight Commander Dredar Ragant of the Imperial Knights. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Admiral, your fleet is most impressive.”

Kava watched as the crimson armored man approached from the modified TIE fighter, introducing himself as a member of the Imperial Knights. Of course, she was familiar with the Knight Commander by reputation. He served the Imperium well, and his loyalty was unquestioned.
“The pleasure is mine, Commander Ragant.-” Kava said with a smile as she regarded the Force user. “-and thank you. Indeed it is, and perhaps one day it will serve the Imperium as well as it has served me.” She let her words linger in the air for a moment before adding, “I believe we have a lot to discuss, gentlemen. Perhaps we should take this discussion somewhere more private.”

“Exactly what I was going to suggest, Admiral.” The Knight Commander replied with a firm nod and affirmative smile as the assembled group moved into the Imperial palace. Dredar walked beside Lord Ozzell, allowing the Imperium’s leader to lead the talks. He was the one who had arrived late to the discussions, but the Lord Imperium was a far more savvy speaker than him anyway.

He sensed a familiarity between the two assembled Imperial leaders which boded well for the negotiations. Dredar was not personally familiar with the Chiss admiral but he had heard of her. The recollection only really came to him once he met Kava face to face. Aliens in the Imperial naval ranks were a true rarity, at least during the Emperor’s reign. When one distinguished themselves by ascending to such a powerful position it made waves in the Empire. Dredar was glad such a figure had the mindset she did, to seek out an alliance. A fractured Empire was a soon to be extinguished Empire.

Kava followed the two men through the Imperial Palace into Lord Ozzell’s office, which had also served as the throne room of Emperor Palpatine himself. As she entered the space, though it was different, it was still somehow the same. Her mind drifted to one of her earliest memories as an officer in the Empire. Soon after she had left the Imperial Academy, she had been among a few other young officers who had been handpicked by Grand Admiral Thrawn to accompany him to Coruscant. That particular trip was highlighted by a personal audience with the Emperor. She remembered it just as if it had happened only yesterday. The Emperor sitting on his throne as he discussed matters of the growing rebellion with Thrawn, and the sound of Lord Vader’s mechanized breathing as he stood silently behind the Emperor’s throne.

The memories quickly faded as she was once again brought back to the present moment. Unlike her earliest visit to the Imperial Capital, she was now the focal point of the meeting with the Imperial High Command. Kava waited while the others that had escorted them to the Lord Imperium’s office had left and only the three remained before she said another word.

“Koren, it is good to see you again.” Kava said. “And while it is good to see that the spirit of the Empire lives on in the Grand Imperium, it is apparent to me that you have a serious problem looking you in the eye.”

“Oh? And what might that be?” Ozzell asked.

“It is obvious to anyone paying attention that the rebels have their sights set on Coruscant. They are a sentimental lot, and they want nothing more than to once again control the capital.-” She began. “-the rebels have been emboldened since their victory at Endor, and with good reason. The Empire has become scattered and weak. There are far too many Imperials out there playing warlord, too concerned with creating their own little territory. They have weakened the Empire by working with criminals and the like in order to secure their imagined strongholds, and it has left us in disarray. I plan to bring them back in line, and regain control of the galaxy with a unified Empire. Kava let her words hang in the air for a moment, letting the other men process what she had in mind.

“Interesting.-” Ozzell said with a grin as he contemplated what Kava had said. “-An admirable ambition indeed. Should we succeed in creating a unified Empire, the rebels would have no choice but to come under heel.” Ozzell conceded. He paused for a moment as he shifted his gaze to the Imperial Knight and then back to the Chiss woman.

“But what makes you think that the rebels would dare assault Coruscant?” Ozzell asked at last.

“They know that to control Coruscant is to control the galaxy. If you listen to the rumors- troop movements, whispers of the beginnings of a new generation of Jedi, it all leads to one specific conclusion. The rebels are gearing up for an assault on the capital, it is only a matter of time. Either we work together to stop that, or the rebels will overthrow you and once again take this planet, and then that would leave all of us in quite the predicament. Wouldn’t you agree, Knight Commander?”

“I would, Admiral. It is inevitable the rebels will come for Coruscant, it is the crown jewel of civilization. Seizing it from Imperial control would be a way for them to further cement their legitimacy to the greater galaxy.” The leader of the Imperial knights stated with a nod, even though he himself would never see this ‘New Republic’ as anything more than lucky traitors.

“I wouldn’t put it past them to throw everything they have at taking this world. If they do that we would be utterly crushed at our present state. A reunified Empire would be able to strike back at the rebels then crush them under foot,” Dredar added as he let the vision briefly fill his mind then continued to speak. “These warlords are scattered, when met with a stronger, more unified force they’d have no option but to submit. Some may be resistant to the idea but if they’re ‘removed’ from power then their little empires will descend into uncertainty which we could take advantage of.”

Such a grand operation would take some skillful planning and admittedly some luck. Many of these warlords were riding their own coattails. It would be a difficult bullet for many to bite to give up their modicums of power, to step in line and hand over their forces to the greater Empire. But each of them would bend the knee when faced with overwhelming enough military might or at least Dredar truly hoped as much. The warlords’ fleets didn’t help the Imperium if they were crushed into space dust in a doomed battle.

“Indeed Dredar.-” Ozzell said to the Knight Commander, almost uncharacteristically in the casual way he said his name. “Indeed.” Ozzell paused for a moment as he turned away from the others and gazed out of the large window which gave him an unmatched view of Coruscant. He knew that Admiral Kava and Dredar were correct, that should the New Republic launch an all out assault on the capital, in their current state the Imperium would not be able to defend themselves. However, the Imperium working with other factions, particularly Kava’s impressive fleet, would give them a chance.

“What exactly is it that you are proposing, Admiral?” Ozzell asked, finally turning back to face his compatriots.

“A partnership, Lord Ozzell.” Kava said. “My fleet will come into the Imperium. I will not just be an ally, but a partner in bringing the galaxy back under the heel of the Empire. And together, we will finally crush the rebellion and force upon the rebels a punishment fit for the traitors and terrorists that they are.” Kava paused. “And together, we will restore the Empire to its former glory.”

Joren and Kelsa rejoined the others inside of Breia's home where the aroma of freshly brewed caf filled the air. Dono, Nyna, and Breia sat around the small wooden table in the corner of the room having a conversation, which judging by how fast the room fell silent when they entered the room, Joren and Kelsa both knew that it must have involved them. Joren looked at the trio and saw the playing cards scattered on the table, and for the first time since before they left Nar Shaddaa, a smile crept across his face.

“Sabaac?” Joren asked as he went over to the kitchen counter and poured a cup of caf for himself and another for Kelsa.

“You in?” Dono asked.

“Do you have to ask?” Joren replied as he took a seat next to his friend.

“You know, it's a good thing you came in when you did. You really don't want to be out there too long after dark, the Sand People have been really active lately.-” Breia said with a pause. “-I was about to send the Mando out after you.”

“Sand People?” Kelsa asked.

“Natives around here. They're more like animals. You don't want to be anywhere near them.” Breia told her.

“Alright, enough about that. We're safe here, right?-” Nyna chimed in. When Breia nodded in the affirmative, a crooked grin crossed her face. “-Alright then, let's play.”


Joren was awoken in the middle of the night by the sound of some sort of disturbance outside of the house. He could hear the sounds of a guttural in the distance, then there were screams, and blaster fire. Though he couldn't tell exactly how far away the sounds were, he knew that they were close.

He sprang from the bed that he had been sharing with Kelsa, and bound to the front door. When he reached the living quarters, he found that Dono and Nyna were already there, and Breia entered just behind him. Dono and Nyna were looking out the windows searching for the source of the sounds, which seemed to be getting closer.

“What's going on?” Joren asked as Kelsa finally joined the others in the living quarters.

“That's them, the Sand People. They must have ambushed someone near here.” Breia said calmly, though Joren could feel her fear.

“It's alright, they can't get in here.-” Joren said trying to reassure her, before a terrifying thought entered his mind. “-They can't get in here, can they?”

“Oh, they probably could if they wanted to. But they don't typically attack big structures like a home.” Breia told him.

“Oh, well, at least we've got that going for us.” Kelsa said from the back of the room.

However, as suddenly as the cries of the Sand People began, they grew silent. The foursome stood in silence as they each listened intently, but heard nothing.

As they looked out of the windows searching for any signs of the Sand People, Dono put his helmet, which he had been holding in his hand, on. He looked through his HUD, which had amazing low light visibility capabilities and began scanning the desert in front of Breia's home.

“I've got something.” He said as he noticed a lone figure who was stumbling as he made his way to the house. “He's coming this way.” Dono announced.

"Can you tell what it is?" Joren asked.

"Human, I think...and he seems to be hurt." Dono told him.

They watched as the figure got closer to Breia's home, now close enough to be seen even in the dark, it was obvious that Dono's initial estimation was correct. Whoever this man was, he was hurt.

"Open the door." Joren said finally as neared the front entrance.

"You can't be serious." Kelsa said. “It's too dangerous, you cant go out there.”

"She's right Joren, the Sand People are too close. We can't risk it." Nyna added.

"He needs help, he'll die out there."Joren pleaded.

"Better him than us." Dono told him.

"I'm going out there, and I'm bringing him in here. I'm not going to let him die." Joren said, determined.

"Joren, no...." Kelsa begged.

"Breia, open the door." Joren said.

Breia looked to Kelsa and Nyna who silently pleaded with her not to open the door,however, when she looked at Joren, she simply shook her head, as if in disbelief at what she was doing, and reluctantly unsealed the door. Once Joren was outside, she sealed the doors again.

"He's right, I'm sorry." Breia said, regret and fear mixed in her voice.

The four inside the home watched intently as Joren rushed out to the injured man, who had collapsed not far from the front entrance to the home. When he reached the man, Joren reached down and helped him to his feet, supporting the man on his shoulders and led him back to the safety of the house as quickly as possible.

"Set him down here, Vod'ika." Dono said, pointing to the plush sofa that sits near the center of the living quarters.

“Than...thank you.” The stranger says before passing into unconsciousness.

Admiral Kava, Mara Jade
NMS and Alternax

Kava grinned as her shuttle touched down in the landing bay of the Lazarus. Her meeting with Ozzell had gone exceedingly well, and she was more than satisfied with the accord that had been agreed to in order to not only bring her fleet into the Imperium, but to make her a member of the Imperium’s High Command, which was practically unheard of in the old Empire. This had indeed been a good day, and not even the announcement from Captain Bryce that another Imperial Star Destroyer, a ship with the designation Blackstar had made contact with the Lazarus and had sent a delegation to meet with her, could dampen her mood. Though she had, in her mind, had participated in enough meetings for the day, she looked forward to adding more allies to her fleet.

The landing ramp descended to the bay floor, and moments later, Kava, along with her landing party, debarked the shuttle. Kava stopped short at the bottom of the landing ramp and was met by Captain Bryce, who greeted her with a sharp salute.

“Where are they, Captain.” Kava asked, curious as to the whereabouts of her latest visitors.

“They are secure Admiral. They are currently awaiting you on the bridge.” The captain told her.

“And why are they on the bridge, Captain?” Kava asked, her crimson eyes locked on to his.

“My apologies Admiral-” Bryce began, reeling from the sudden flash of anger from his superior. “-I thought it appropriate, considering who is in charge.”

“I see.” Kava said after a moment of reflection. “And who exactly is in charge?

“Forgive me, Admiral, but I think you may want to see for yourself.” Bryce said with a hint of glee in his voice, which Kava noted was quite unusual for the man who had been known as her personal attack dog.

“Very well, Captain.” Kava said, her voice conveying her annoyance. “Beeone, be be alert.” She said to her security droid, who acknowledged the command.

They made the rest of the trip to the bridge in relative silence, which for Bryce, might have been a blessing. Kava did not like surprises, and was rather displeased with her subordinate’s coy games. She would certainly find a punishment suitable for the slight, should she find it necessary. However, when she finally arrived on the bridge and saw the visitor in question she understood.The woman had been leaning at the viewport, looking out on the capital world below them with almost a sense of longing.

She wore what looked to be a variance on the uniforms worn by Vader’s Inquisitors, a black uniform and cape. The woman, suddenly aware of their presence, turned to greet them. As she did, Kava realized that the uniform that she wore, with the crimson Imperial sigil on her shoulders, as well as the ews rank bars on her shoulders, was somehow different from anything that she had remembered seeing previously. However, she walked up to the red haired woman and extended her hand in friendship.
“Welcome aboard the Lazarous. I am Admiral Kava, it is good to meet you…” She let her words hang as she awaited an introduction from her mysterious guest.

The red-haired woman eyed Kava, before glancing at Bryce, and then returning to meet Kava’s gaze. She extended her hand outwards to meet Kava’s gesture.

“Jade, Mara.”

Admiral Kava was taken aback by the woman’s introduction. She had heard of a woman by that name, a woman who had been taken under the wing of the Emperor himself. A special agent of sorts, an assassin...she had been known solely as “The Emperor’s Hand.” However, her whereabouts after the tragic loss of the Emperor had been unknown, at least until now, if this woman was who she said she was.

“Welcome, Mara Jade.-” Kava said, her lips curling into a smile. “-What do I owe the pleasure of a visit from the Emperor’s Hand herself?”

“As you know, our Empire has become… out of sorts. Our starfleet is still roughly as strong as it was, and I think you know this too. But as our fleet becomes weaker from infighting, and skirmishes, the New Republic only grows stronger. Ozzel adopted a policy of upholding the status quo, a policy I wholly disagree with. So, I’ve been working behind his back. However, with the appearance of your fleet and your Super Star Destroyers, the odds have changed.” Mara said, then narrowed her eyes.

“I would like to know, what are your intentions?”

“My intentions, I think, are in line with yours. Ozzell is not a stupid man, however, he’s become too much of a politician. I have placed myself within the High Command, and I do not intend to allow the rebels grow any more powerful.-” Kava said, emphasizing the word rebels, as to this day she refuses to recognize them as anything but. “-My intentions are to restore the Empire to its former glory, and to expand upon the vision of our late Emperor.”

Mara smiled. “Then you should know, our late Emperor’s vision doesn’t stop at his death. I have been working to gather some of his old plans. When the time comes I will need the help of the fleets to deliver a debilitating strike to the rebels, starting with Luke Skywalker. I know you’ve been gone, but I trust you know who he is by now?”

“The Jedi who was responsible for the death of the Emperor, as well as Lord Vader.” Kava said, her tone growing dark at the mention of Skywalker. “I would like nothing more than to be there when we bring the rebel to justice.” Kava paused for a moment, as if deciding whether to say any more. But for some reason she felt that she could trust this woman.

“I think we have much to discuss. Why don’t we move this meeting to somewhere a little more private.” Kava said as she motioned for Mara Jade to follow her away from prying eyes.

Joren and Breia sat in the living quarters watching over the injured stranger that they had brought into their sanctuary. Since Joren had rescued the man from the dangers of the desert, the stranger had said few words. Instead, he had been drifting in and out of consciousness. However, in the brief moments that he had been coherent, the stranger had revealed that he was called Drast'une, and that he had been attacked by a group of Tusken Raiders, and had miraculously escaped with his life. There was something unsettling about the man, but Joren couldn't quite put his finger on exactly what it was. However, it had been enough for him to keep his blaster within arm's reach. It had also been enough for him to take other measures to protect his friends. He had gone into the room that Breia had provided for him and Kelsa, and grabbed the satchel which held a few of his belongings, most notably his father's lightsaber. He didn't know why he felt compelled to take the relic, but he had taken it and hidden it in the inner pocket of the light jacket that he had been wearing.

Throughout the night, Joren and Dono had taken turns watching over the man, treating and dressing his wounds, all the while, keeping a close eye on him, because as they had learned, one could never be too careful when dealing with the unknown.

“So tell me.-” Joren finally said breaking the silence. “What made you change your mind?”

“What do you mean?” Breia asked.

“You weren't going to open the door. You agreed with the others, you...you thought it was too dangerous, but then you opened the door anyhow.” Joren said.

“I don't know.” Breia started. “You were right, I knew that. We couldn't just leave him out there to die. You're right though, I also agreed with the others. It was too dangerous, I wanted to keep the door locked, but then I saw that you were willing to go out there and risk your life for a complete stranger and you...just reminded me of my brother.”

“Your brother?” Joren asked.

“Nevil. He was a good man, always willing to lend a hand when it was needed. Sometimes I think he had more bravery than smarts. It's also what got him killed.” Breia told him, her voice cracking slightly as tears began forming at the corners of her eyes. “But I don't want to talk about that, not now at least.” Breia said as she wiped the tears from her eyes.

“I understand. And I'm sorry.” Joren said. “But if you change your mind, I'm here.”

“I appreciate that.” Breia said.

Joren was about to say something, but was interrupted by the sounds of Drat'une's coughing. The stranger had again regained consciousness and was attempting to sit up. Joren went over to the man and offered him a mug o water. The man brushed his long black hair out of his face as he began to drink greedily from the mug, gulping the water down.

“I...I wanted to thank you.” Drast'une said as he put the mug down on the table in front of the sofa.

“It was nothing. Anyone would have doe the same thing.” Joren said.

“I think we both know...that is not the case.” Drast'une said with a smirk.

Suddenly, Joren felt something from the stranger. Where that before had been nothing, he now felt cold. He felt a darkness that he had never before experienced. As these feelings washed over him, Joren began to feel a sense of dread.

“To the contrary, it was indeed very much something. You are not like the others, you are selfless, you have something inside of you that makes you special. You have something that so very few beings have in in the galaxy these days. And that is how I found you. It is how I lured you here from Nar Shaddaa.”

Dread washed over Joren. He thought back to the time on the Dreams after they had escaped Nar Shaddaa. The feeling that he had, the voice that had called out to him, beckoned for him to come to Tatooine. He also was reminded of the sense of unease that he'd felt since landing on the desert planet, the feeling that someone had been watching him.

“Breia, get out of here.” Joren said.

“What?” She asked, unsure as to what was going on.

“Get to the others and get out of here.” Joren said again. This time Breia did as she was told and made her way out of the living chambers.

“Ah yes, but don't run too far. This won't take long.” Drast'une called after her.

Joren pulled out his blaster, but before he could squeeze the trigger, it was ripped from his hands by an unseen force and flung across the room. Then, before he knew it, Joren was gripped by invisible hands and lifted into the air, before being thrown over the back of the chair that he had previously been sitting in. Then Drast'une sprang on him, straddling him, pinning his arms to the ground.

“Perhaps I was wrong about you. Perhaps you aren't so special after all. The Force may be with you, but you don't know how to use it.-” Drast'une taunted him. “-Pity.” Joren struggled to get free of the larger man's grip, but it was no use. Drast'une was simply too strong.

“I did not want it to come to this. I wanted you to join me. But I see now that you are too weak. You do not have what it takes to embark on the journey that I would take you on.” he said as a pair of tendrils made their way out of his cheeks, inching toward him.

“For too long, I have been forced to feed on vermin, it has been far too long since I have enjoyed the soup of one of your kind.-” He said as the tendrils moved ever closer to Joren's nostrils. “I want you to know that I am truly going to enjoy you, Joren Kel.”

Joren could feel something pushing at his psyche, telling him to just give in and accept the inevitable. But he fought the urge and refused to allow the Anzat to make a meal of him.Joren reached deep within himself and called on the Force, using it to push Drast'une back. Though he wasn't able to get the creature off of him, he was able to free his hand. He reached into the hidden pocket of his jacket.

“Too little, too--” Drast'une's words were cut off as the snap-hiss of a lightsaber filled the room, and a bright blue-white blade protruded from Drast'une's back. The Anzat slumped forward, and Joren was able to push the larger being off of him. He deactivated the lightsaber and was in the process of slipping it back into his jacket when he was suddenly aware that he was no longer alone.

“Vod'ika, you? You're a Jetii?” Dono said, more of a statement of disbelief than a question.

“No.-” Joren began, his words coming between gasps of breath. “I'm no Jedi.”

“I've seen you. I saw you use the Force. And you have the weapon of a Jedi.”

Joren paused for a moment. He knew that the Mandalorians had a bit of a complicated history with the Jedi, and he didn't know if that history would put a strain on their friendship. Many Mandalorians still held grudges against the Jedi, and the Mandalorians as a people tended to have long memories.

“I'm not a Jedi. But my father was.-” Joren said as he held out his lightsaber for Dono, and everyone else to see. “-And this is all I have left of him.

The unusual Sith vessel had made it out of the destroyed hangar of the Resolute, but where was it to go? One might think that the Zabrak in the pilot's chair would once again descend towards Coruscant, and he might, but that was not his immediate goal. He was not done with them yet. To ensure that the ship and crew itself would pay for their insolence, his fighter turned immediately back towards the ship. On the bridge, they had received the order to track the Sith's movements, and that was when the man on scanners reported the small ship turning to attack. The Commander on deck turned to face him with a look of confusion and irritation.

"What?"

"He's making an attack run, sir!"

"Increase deflectors and shoot him down!"

These orders were carried out as the smaller ship fired its guns. What was he trying to prove? A single fighter might harrass a ship of this size, but he would have fighters on him in a matter of seconds if the ISD's batteries didn't swat him first.

"Enemy ship headed for command tower!"

The Commander frowned. He couldn't. He wouldn't! A suicide run on the tower?! Ram his ship right through, like what happened to the Executor?! No, it was impossible! They had lost power, and though the Resolute had taken damage in the hangar area, the power systems here were fine! So then, what? He repeated "Shoot him DOWN!" as the Sith vessel came closer. He recalled now the report from the hangar, calling in that the pilot was a dangerous Force-user. Was he doing it now to avoid the shots? They couldn't hit him! The gunners were either not fast enough or HE was just too maneuverable.

"Where are our fighters?!"

"TOO LATE!"

The ship was right at the command tower, mere seconds from- He broke off, suddenly! For one second, the Commander felt relief that the man had been bluffing to throw them off for his escape, but that was when he heard a sound that shouldn't have been possible: The forward windows of the command tower exploding out into space... To be clear, it wasn't made of glass. You couldn't shatter it. It was more like it'd been blown from its moorings in the wall. The Commander got as far as shouting "MAG-" before he and a bunch of staff from the pits were pulled out into hard vacuum! He'd been calling for an emergency magnetic shell to be put in place, something in which one of the further-away tactical officers did manage, after at least half the staff were dragged into the blackness of space by the sudden decompression.

That was what Darth Tarak intended.

He had mad a faux attack run on the bridge and never attempted to breach the shields...with his ship. He simply reached past it, to the windows of the command tower and pulled. Air pressure helped him, but it was his strength that managed it, for the most part. Now, with the Resolute in chaos, it was time to leave, and he did so via the back of the ship, setting his Sith fighter to leap to hyperspace once he feigned an inability to get his engaged - as though it had been damaged in the hangar battle - and and shoot the pursuit before really leaving. He would have to put down for repairs somewhere. This ship was hardly invincible. He'd deflected most of the shots in the hangar, but his ship was not without damage.

Now...where to go? Ahh... I have an idea.

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



You would not think that a man of his abilities and particular temperments could seem so normal and without apparent feeling from the Force, but...mistakes of that nature had been made before. He was very good at concealing himself. Many long hours or days or years mastering the expression - or lack thereof - the power, of the Force, were paying off right now, as they did on many numerous occasions. The man called Zaras organized and kept track and did people little favors and ensured the safety of people on Chandrila to the best of his mortal abilities with one hand, and with the other...he quietly sequestered certain resources and files and even people or animals away, covered the trail, and sent these things out innocently to be collected by either his subbordinates or hired fools who would deposit these things in a place of safety...or if they made it to the Dread Adversary, they would likely never leave with their lives or their minds. Things were going well, at the moment. Simula had reported success on his ventures, though to be fair, they were not difficult acquisitions. Questions raised, but questions never truly answered. Now, he was in a park and enjoying his lunch, when...his holo-comm went off. The man looked around. Just a single person walking around, right now?

Diabolus reached out and sent such shuddering terror through him that he convulsed and hit the ground where he stood.

With that, he smiled slightly and answered the call, showing the face of one of his Apprentices. Feeling in a good mood, just this moment, he said "Ah, Mr. Tarak... How do things proceed on your end, hmmm? Did you make it to Coruscant?". The retrograde Zabrak seemed to growl in irritation. That did not bode well.

-Not as such, no. I was neither able to stealth my way through, nor bluff through their checkpoint as an ordinary.-

He put on a more thoughtful expression now, going "Mmm, I see. And did many suffer?". Ah, yes... That put a smile on the man's face.

-Indeed, they did. While I did not destroy the Imperial vessel, the damage and death toll will put that Star Destroyer down for a time.-

"Good, good. Let them know the price of their arrogance."

-And I have some information of use.-

"Go on..."

-An Imperial fleet appeared at Coruscant while I was fighting. Either they mean to conquer or they mean to join forces.-

"We will assume, for the moment, that they will attempt to consolidate forces to create 'a solid Imperial wall for our troops to rally behind', with 'Long live the Empire!' and all that."

He chuckled, slightly, at the thought.

"I will aid the Republic in breaking them. In the meantime, you must continue the work. Have you had a chance to speak to Simula at all?"

-I have been busy. If he wishes to find me, I will be on Corellia for repairs. I notice we have not yet found the means of delivery that we need. I was thinking there.-

"A good thought. I will relay these facts."

And from there, he released the man from his mental grip, followed by erasing his most recent memories, so he would have abolustely no idea where and how these sudden feelings of anxiety that he had now came from. He would simply have them, without answer or understanding, forever.