Star Wars: Retaliation (IC)

[Miekzhemy]

Padawan Rhys
Odessen

'Concentrate...'

It took him a week before he could utter but a single word. Even during the training sessions, he had found himself detached and despondent. The masters had told him to meditate on it, so he did. For hours upon hours he would sit within these quarters, desperately attempting to make sense of his very thoughts. Now, it had been three months. Three long months, yet the damned memories still remained burned into his mind! What was he doing wrong?!

The lone Padawan sat cross-legged in the open center of his quarters, his empty eye sockets and messy, snow white hair now left uncovered by the headdress he had worn to the last ceremony some time prior. He had seen some semblance of progress. When he began, the pain was chaotic...the voices unintelligible. Now, he could make sense of them, but only some. He could only concentrate harder - let them in. Suddenly, the memories that struck him dumb on that fateful day flashed through his mind once more.

"FORWARD!" Master Mundi shouted over the howling winds of Mygeeto and the rage of battle. He led the charge, but the clones did not follow. Instead, they shot him down...

The Padawan's brow furrowed. A meditation stone, roughly the size of his fist, slowly rose from the floor.

His own master fell lifeless to the floor, her life snuffed out by the very ones she had saved just days prior. Their fellow sages would meet the same end. 'Good soldiers follow orders...' their voices rang through his ears...

His knuckles went white as he gripped his own knees harder. Why...? He bared his teeth.

The Temple on Coruscant flew through his vision. The Masters. The Knights and fellow Padawans. The younglings. Then, they cried out in terror yet again; the chorus of agony and suffering that had plagued him for so long...

Suddenly, the stone split in two. "Gah--!" he gasped as he came to, causing the halves to drop to the floor. As the voices faded for now, Rhys hung his head. How could he fail again? How can they endure this? How can they watch them suffer, unmoved?!

No! He thought to himself. He mustn't waver. Not now. The Padawan sucked in a lungful of air, and slowly breathed it out.

'Again...'

[Aeritai]

Three Months Ago
Above Raxus Prime
Venator-class Star Destroyer, Deliverance

"I hope the victory we made here was worth it General Nih'rute." Admiral Jeamarl Karnu said as he sighed looking over the reports on a data pad before turning around to face the Bothan Jedi Master.

"We lost a lot of good men during the ground assault..."

"Indeed, we have but rest assured that the men that fought with me didn't die in vain. We were able to secure Raxus Prime and drive the Separatist fleet away from the system." The Bothan Jedi said.

"While that may be true General... I feel like we could've avoided more casualties had we went with my battle plan. But of course, you insisted to use your battle plan to secure this planet faster." Admiral Karnu said as he put his data pad down and used his right hand to rub his head annoyed that the ignorance of his Jedi General got more of his men killed.

"I understand your frustration Admiral Karnu, but with all due respect had we not went with my plans we would've been stuck fighting in this system for months. It was the only way to ensure a victory here." Nih'rute explained.

Admiral Karnu let out another sigh as he shook his head slowly in disappointment before turning away from the Jedi General and looked at the bridge's viewpoint windows.

"Sometimes I just wish your Order had never got involved in this war..." Admiral Karnu said still looking at the bridge's viewpoint windows trying to ignore the Jedi General.

Nih'rute seeing that Karnu was ignoring him, decided to leave the bridge and leave the admiral alone in his thoughts. With the Bothan Jedi gone, Karnu began to think about all the ways the Jedi Order has been a hinderance in this war. It was in his opinion that the Jedi didn't make good Generals and believed that they should've remained as peacekeepers rather than soldiers. Hopefully once the Clone Wars have ended, Karnu will not have to work alongside General Nih'rute anymore and things can finally return to normal. While Karnu was deep in his thoughts, the sudden sound of blasters being fired brought him back to reality. Confused Karnu left the bridge to see what was going on in the next room, once he entered the next room, he saw the dead body of Nih'rute with a squad of Clone Troopers still pointing at the dead body before aiming their weapons away.

"What is the meaning of this?" Karnu asked as he looked at the squad of Clone Troopers.

"Sir we have received orders from Chancellor Palpatine... All Jedi leadership must be executed for treason against the Republic." A Clone Trooper answered.

Treason....? I never did trust the Jedi and it doesn't surprise me that they would do something like this. Karnu thought to himself as he looked towards the dead body of the Bothan Jedi he once served under obviously not heartbroken over his death.

"In that case toss this body out of the airlock... We will be returning to Coruscant shortly." Karnu said.

"Yes sir!" The Clone Commander said as he ordered his men to pick up the body while Karnu went back to the bridge to prepare to have the Deliverance and the rest of the fleet return to Coruscant.

Present Day
Above Coruscant
Venator-class Star Destroyer, Deliverance

It has been three months since Order 66 came down and three months since Palpatine formed the Galactic Empire making him Emperor. A move which Admiral Karnu supported; it was his belief that the Republic has grown weak throughout the years and that with the Empire established, Karnu believed that order and peace would finally be restored to the galaxy. Karnu had always supported Palpatine during his time serving in the Clone Wars and knew with him as Emperor, the galaxy might be a safer place without the Jedi Order to ruin it. The Admiral calmly looked at the viewpoint windows as he sipped a cup of tea as he looked down at the city-wide planet where he grew up on. Karnu and his fleet were ordered to remain here until further notice, which didn't bother him after all most of the Jedi and Separatist were wiped out and it won't be long until order has been restored to the galaxy.

In the meantime, Admiral Karnu will have his fleet remain here ready to be called into action for the glory of the Galactic Empire....

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Inera

The Jedi Knight sat cross legged in the room she had temporarily made her own on Norl's ship. Her eyes were closed as her mind reached through and toyed with the holocron in front of her. The mechanisms on the device were far more complex than what she had yet encountered. The cubic holocron made her more frustrated the longer she tried to open it. Attempting to nudge miniscule locks in one direction only seemed to force more closed. The Jedi who had made this particular holocron really did not want anyone breaking into it. Sighing, Inera thought back to her teachings in Jedi Archaeology with her master.

---

Master Forn Sench crouched over a marked off square of dust, using the force to carefully clear dust away from a small statuette of a hooded figure that resembled a Jedi. Jedha was full of ruins like the ones Inera found herself standing in. The Padawan had gotten used to the heat, even if the constant need to wear her goggles bothered her. Inera carefully placed the Statuette on a cloth like her master had taught her, before folding the cloth around it and placing the artifact into a storage container. Forn broke out his canteen and took a deep draught before offering it to Inera who accepted without hesitation.

Inera looked around the valley the pair were currently sat in. Other archaeologists were hard at work around them, most of them no more than basic pot hunters from the city around the old Temple, all looking to find some artifact or another. Inera's master wasn't truely interested in most of the artifacts in the valley, but was collecting a few to use a visual aids on his latest project, a reconstructive history of the Jedi order. Forn was a strong proponent of the Jedi originating on Jedha, and was dedicated to finding a ruin that he was convinced would prove his hypothesis.

Inera let some water drip from her mouth and asked "So Master, do you think we will actually find the Tomb on this trip, or will we have spent these days roasting for nothing again? I like the desert as much as the next Arkanian but it does begin to grate on the senses."

Forn laughed and said "If I'm being honest Inera, I doubt that I ever will find it. I sense it is not my destiny to set foot within the hallowed halls of the Firstborns' Tomb. That is the legacy of a Jedi far greater than I to uncover."

"Then why are we out here? All of your other digs have had a purpose, a goal for us to achieve. Do you mean to imply that we've been commiting an exercise in futility?"

"Inera, I thought you would have learned by now. History is not just great men leading armadas to victory, it is the sacrifices of thousands to achieve those victorys. I may not see the Tomb, but our work here will one day help some other enterprising jedi to find the way"

The padawan nodded. "What if we need to be the great men leading the way though?"

"Then the force will show you the way."

---

Inera's eyes shot open as she suddenly began to probe the Holocron in a way completely contrary to any locking mechanism she had yet encountered. Her mind clicked one lock to undo another one which opened another three. After around five minutes, the final mechanism flipped open, and the Holocron came to life. The various pieces of the device's shell began to whirl around the room as the core glowed with a faint light. A hooded figure stood within the light, a hologram of an age long since past. The figure removed his hood, revealing the head of an older human woman. Nodding solemnly, the woman said calmly "If you are seeing this, then I suppose I should begin with a warning. I did not make this holocron difficult to unlock without reason. Contained within is my own weaknesses and feelings laid bare, and it is not a work I am proud of... but I must make it none the less. My name is Master Urania Lokarn. This Holocron marks the first of my confessions."

Inera raised her eyebrow and asked the hologram "Confessions? Of what sort?"

"The annals of my life, my mistakes, my misguidings, and my failings, along with observations I fear to say aloud."

"Very well then Master Urania Lokarn... let's start at the beginning."

[Sao Nova Europa]

Space was like a dark curtain, contrasting with blacks and yellows, and the occasional white, which was shaped as a circle and sometimes a crescent. Thousands of bright stars and planets dotted that curtain in an intricate pattern. Suddenly, a menacing shadow overshadowed one of the smaller planets. It was the shadow of a Star Destroy traveling in space. Its engines emitted a sound like the singing of whales. It was the only sound that could be heard in the silent and empty coldness of space.

On its bridge, overlooking the thousands of sequin-silver stars, was a lone towering dark figure; Darth Vader, Dark Lord of the Sith. His mere presence was enough to frighten the officers on the bridge. His mechanical breathing instilled fear on everyone hearing it. To them, he was no human; he was a cold, ruthless enforcer who was more of a droid than a man. He had no feelings, no soul. He was a machine.

No one knew the origins of this dark individual. Rumor had it that he was a cyborg created by a mad scientist and who now served the Emperor. Others believed he was a resurrected Sith Lord, risen from the dead to avenge his fallen brothers. But they all knew that the Emperor entrusted him with the task of hunting down Jedi.

That was the face Vader wanted to present to the world; that was the mask he was wearing. For, besides the mask that hid his face, he also wore a mask that hid Anakin Skywalker the man. Anakin was passionate about everything; he was passionate in love and hate, he was passionate about his friends and enemies. Vader was cold and indifferent. Anakin was a man controlled by his feelings. Vader seemingly had no feelings. Behind the mask, however, Vader still had some feelings; he still could not accept the fact that Padme had died nor could he wash away his feelings of guilt for causing her death. He could not forget the sweet and bitter moments he shared with her. As much as he would have liked to pretend that those were the memories of another man, of Anakin Skywalker whom Vader had killed, he could not get them out of his mind.

He could still remember when he was holding her hand in Naboo and they were gazing together the amazing scenery that was the sunset from their balcony. The sun had cast its golden rays down upon the clouds of billowing smoke, turning them bright red; fire red. The sky was like a painting, one that no mortal human could ever hope to draw. Birds were chirping, singing a melody that no man could compete nor replicate. They were smiling, they were in love and optimistic about the future. Even though Vader could remember every detail of that day and could not forget it, it now felt distant, sketchy; like an ink wash painting or a dream.

Vader knew that he was the one who killed that dream, the one who caused Padme's death. He did not dare to admit it and liked to blame Obi Wan for her death, but deep inside him he knew the truth. That was the reason he had all those feelings of guilt plaguing him. He tried to convince himself that he was innocent, that all of this was Kenobi's fault but he could not wash away his guilt. All those feelings and memories tortured Vader; he was a crippled man, both physically and psychologically. Vader wore the mask of the emotionless enforcer to intimidate others; but he also wore it to hide his mental scars. He felt more at ease being a machine than being a man and having to confront all those feelings.

“Lord Vader,” a man said. A middle-aged human, he had brown hair which was combed, blue eyes and was cleanly shaven. He was wearing a uniform which consisted of a double-breasted tunic with a round collar and matching trousers, a pair of black boots, a belt and a command cap. His name was Heinrich Schneider and he was Vader’s top military officer and Captain of the Star Destroyer. “We have reached Atzerri. Your shuttle will be ready in a few minutes: I thought it would be best to first land a squadron of stormtroopers on the landing site for your safety. You will be landing near Imapson. It is a small human settlement – more of an outpost than a city, really – but it is near the jungle where that Jedi… J… Je… Ah yes! Jenassa Artine. It is near where she and her terrorists are hiding.”

“Proceed,” Vader nonchalantly replied in his robotic voice.

---

Harry’s Bar was crowded even in the afternoon. It was one of the few places in the settlement that did not suffer from the long war against the separatists. Alcohol was at an all-time high demand as people wanted to escape their miserable reality. The air was filled with cigar smoke and exclamations. The waiter girls were all wearing low-cut gowns and too much face paint. Most of the costumers were burly men working in the logging and agricultural industries.

Yet one man seemed different. He was a tall man in his late thirties, with a rugged look of unkempt, asymmetrical long black hair and a shaggy, thick beard. He wore a plain brown suit with a fancy red tie and a dark green pocket square. Smith Johnson, mayor of the settlement and CEO of Johnson Inc. Logging Industries.

“Grab me a martini,” he said to the barman as he sat on a stool next to a rugged-looking man.

“Ye hear de news?” the man said in a heavy accent.

“You’re talking about that Jedi hunter?” Smith replied.

“Yup. Dat guy. Heard he’s some kind of ‘borg.”

“I don’t care what he is, as long as he kills that bitch and her wannabe terrorist bunch!” Smith pounded his fist on the table. “We’ve seen years of war, countless of deaths. This settlement was supposed to have grown to a full scale city by now, yet it is still a provincial village because of that damn separatist conflict. And now that we’ve finally got some freaking peace and seeing some money pouring in, that Jedi bitch and her maniac psycho buddies want to start another war.”

The man nodded. “Yup. Did like her when she was protecting us from dat machines. But now she’s got to get going. Want some ale, some work and some peace. No more killing. Dat war took away my brotha and my mama. Don’t want more of it.”

“To the empire!” Smith proposed.

“To de empire!” the man gulped his drink.

---

Vader’s shuttle had three wings: one tall, dorsal stabilizer that remained stationary, and two lower wings that would extend during flight and fold upward for landing. It was mounted with two forward-facing double laser cannons. The shuttle landed on a grassland. Vader unlocked the outer hatch of shuttle, lowered the ramp and walked out along with six elite clone troopers. There were hundreds of wild flowers which were glowing with bright colored butterflies. The flowers lay scattered on the grass like frozen flames. Their petals were delicate works of art. The sweet smell of the flowers cut through the soft scent of the grass. This was a beautiful world – or would have been, had it not been for the war.

“Sir,” one of the clones raised his hand. “The settlement is to our right. We should be reaching it in about five minutes. Mayor Johnson will inform you on the situation on the ground.”

Vader simply nodded without uttering a single word.

Vader walked inside Johnson’s office. In reality, it was a simple room with a dark wooden desk. The mayor was sitting behind it. Seeing Vader in person, he was startled. His face turned pale but he quickly forced a smile and got up from his comfortable chair. “Greetings sir… Vrad- I mean Vader. Lord Vader, right? I mean, I heard that… that… th-“

“I am running out of patience, mayor.”

“OK. Specifics. Jedi is named Jenassa Artine. Her Venator-Class Star Destroyer crashed down on the surface, but she and a group of fanatics are waging guerrilla warfare from the nearby jungle. She has great battlefield experience and she led the 404th Corps that were stationed here. We estimate she has about a hundred followers, settlers from this and other nearby settlements that joined the 404th Corps in their fight against the separatists. All of them are battle-hardened, with knowledge of the terrain and the geography and with nothing to lose; their families and fortunes were all lost during the war.”

Completely ignoring the mayor, Vader activated a holographic device. The blue figure of Heinrich appeared. “Captain Heinrich. I want a bombardment of the jungle. Estimated time?”

“I can get our TIE/sa bombers in position in about fifteen to twenty minutes. Bombardment will commence in about two or three minutes after that.”

“Proceed.”

“What?!” Smith protested. “But sir, this will… this will have devastating effects for our logging industry.”

“Your corporate worries are none of my concern, mayor.” Vader turned around and walked out of the room, leaving the stunned mayor gaping in horror.

[Okayanos]

The Attack on Brighthome: Part 1

Three Months Ago

Dramatis Personae
Xez Kraid, Mandalorian Bounty Hunter
Kroawbaesa, Wookiee Bounty Hunter
Trecort, Junker Bounty Hunter
Cornelius Mors, Former Republic Intelligence

---

Nar Shaddaa
The Happy Mynock

After Kroawbaesa and he had finished refueling, they'd temporarily split up to source their equipment and any information they could find pertaining to the Jedi. Trecort passed a few shops, none of their wares particularly interesting to him, but in places like this, you had to know how or who to ask to see the good stuff. The more he wandered through the city planet, the more he was thankful for his enclosed helmet and outer chassis keeping the polluted air at bay. There was little doubt in his mind it would remind him of the stink of Lotho Minor.

Focusing once more on his mental map, he slunk through the maze of alleyways to the bar where he was supposed to meet his contact. Several glances looked him over, and he knew that most of them figured him some kind of droid or armor-toting human. His red eyes surveyed the dim room, spotting his contact in an especially shaded nook near the rear. Adjusting his coat, and making sure the sleeve was just enough to cover his wrist blaster, Trecort headed over and slid into the booth opposite the Kubaz.

"I understand you seek information about the Jedi," the infochant said in Kubazian.

Trecort simply nodded in response.

"Would this be tied to the open bounty placed by the new Galactic Empire?"

"I pay to ask questions, not answer them," Trecort hummed back in Kubazian.

"Very well. Little information is known of them outside their own order, but a large number were already killed by the Grand Army of the Republic before the transfer of power, with the rest going into hiding."

"Any idea where?"

The Kubaz shook his snout. "They have scattered across the sectors. If they were smart, they'd make wake to wild space, but I do know somewhere where you can get a better lead: the Jedi had a station in the mid rim. They called it Brighthome, and I know for a fact that a grand poobah for the Empire just recently visited."

"The coordinates?"

"Tsk, tsk; the credits"

Trecort reached into an internal coat pocket and tossed out a few chips.

"Ah, very good," The Kubaz said, sliding over a folded piece of parchment.

"Paper?"

"A slicer can't hack paper," The Kubaz chuckled, raking up the credits.

Trecort unfolded it the scrap and took notes of the coordinates, his R2 series astrochart already plotting a course. "This will do."

Getting up and making his way out of the bar, he held up his left palm and made a call to Kroawbaesa, "I have a lead," The Junker said to the holographic image of the Wookiee.

---

Hunter's Guild HQ
Gear Marketplace

While his partner searched for information, Kroawbaesa searched for equipment. Over his many years of hunting, the Wookiee mostly stuck to his favored Bowcaster and Ryyk blade, only picking up a few thermal detonators when he needed to be excessive. But Kroawbaesa's weapons meant nothing to a Jedi. It dampened his spirits when he learned that his Ryyk blade and Bowcaster would be useless against a lightsaber. The weapons he had hunted with since he was a cub. The weapons he constructed himself. The weapons that were the only tie left to his people. Kroawbaesa could imagine cleaving a Jedi in two with his Ryyk blade, or blasting one with his Bowcaster. He knew deep down inside that he wanted, needed, to kill a Jedi with his weapons to, hopefully, bring some small amount of his honor back. Kroawbaesa also knew that was impossible.

After a short walk through the grimey streets of Nar Shaddaa, Kroawbaesa found exactly what he was looking for. The Bounty Hunter Guild's headquarters on Nar Shaddaa. The Guild had taken Kroawbaesa without hesitation after his initiation. Kroawbaesa's test had involved killing a Wampa on Hoth, with the cold threatening him as much as the monster. After years of hunting on Kashyyyk, Kroawbaesa had found no trouble felling the mighty beast. Ever since being accepted into the Guild as a hunter, Kroawbaesa had found that the equipment they sold was better than other underworld merchants. Once inside, Kroawbaesa went to the weapons and equipment emporium that every Guild headquarters had. The merchant that Kroawbaesa approached was a burly human with a cybernetic arm that looked like it was made of trash. His face was covered by a thick red mutton-stache and goggle-like implants over his eyes and brow.

"What can I do fer you, hunter?" asked the vendor. The human's voice had a unique accent that Kroawbaesa couldn't quite place.

"I need weapons to kill a Jedi." Kroawbaesa growled back.

"To kill a Jedi? I heard those bounties were up. And yer in luck, we got just the killing implements yer lookin fer! Take fer instance-" The human turned around into his stall, and returned holding a bantha skin bandoleer covered with an assortment of mines, detonators, dioxis grenades, and other assorted explosives. The merchant chuckled, "Now if you were to throw this whole thing at a Jedi it'll kill him, guaranteed!" He set the selection of explosives on the table for Kroawbaesa to inspect further and returned to his stock in the back.

The shopkeep came back to the front arms full of various slug throwers, “These are nasty little devils. They can tear flesh off the bone and if a Jedi blocks em-” Another chuckle, “They will have to deal with all the scrap you launched at em. Now because of yer large size I think you would like my latest shipment, fresh from the box.” He turned and practically ran to the back.

“This-” The merchant lugged a massive auto-cannon onto the desk, “Is a Merr-Sonn Z-6 rotary cannon.” The human grinned as he went on, “Each barrel has its own actuating chamber, and the central cooling core means that you can keep ‘er firing for as long as you need to kill everything in front of you. In ideal conditions, yer lookin at 100 shots goin’ down-range per second. Should be more than sufficient to put a Jedi down. Ah, word of advice, though-” The human cautioned as Kroawbaesa curiously reached for the rotary cannon. “-keep a couple o’ spare power packs on yer person, or hook it up to a generator. Gun like this chugs down energy like a moisture farmer chugs blue milk.”

Kroawbaesa was thinking his options over when Trecort called him on his holocommunicator. Apparently he had found a lead. ”Where do we need to go?” asked the Wookiee.

"A space station the Jedi used in the mid rim. If we can access a terminal, I should be able to search their records. If we can find an external drive, I can download anything useful we might find," Trecort replied.

"Good, I think I've found enough Jedi killing weapons," with that Kroawbaesa looked back at the shopkeep and growled "I'll take everything,"

The Wookiee looked back down at his hologram, "Anything you'll need for the space station raid?"

"If we're dealing with clone troopers, a thermal detonator wouldn't hurt. Other than that, I'll find a hard drive."

Kroawbaesa chuckled "We have plenty. I'm on my way to the Inglorious." The Wookiee grabbed all of his newly acquired goods and started the walk back.

"I'll meet you there."

---

The Mandalorian

Xez Kraid, occasionally nicknamed 'Bonesaw' amongst other hunters, stood only a couple of stalls down from an extremely heavily-armed Wookiee. Though he couldn't hope to match the alien's sheer power, the bone-white Beskar armor he wore cut an intimidating figure all the same. Compared to the Wookiee's veritable arsenal of weaponry purchased, Xez's choices were far more humble. Canisters of fuel for his jetpack, additional darts for his wrist launcher, and new sights for the RT-97C heavy blaster slung on his back. The Mandalorian also received a sealed shipment to be sent directly to his ship, though it was essentially an open secret that it was gear from his own kind.

Xez's helmeted head turned when the Wookiee mentioned Jedi-killing weapons. His interest had been piqued by the very concept of a heavily-armed wookiee, but the mention of Jedi earned his attention. Xez muttered a thanks to his shopkeep in Mando'a, a wish for the other's battles to be glorious. It was the way. The Mandalorian's cape flowed behind him as he strode up to the 8'5" Wookiee with the kind of confidence that only came from a thousand years of warrior history.

"You're killing Jedi." Xez's rough voice came out, processed through his helmet's audio systems. "What kind of pay is that worth?"

Kroawbaesa turned to face the armored hunter, "Enough pay for two. And I have a second hunter." Kroawbaesa growled back to the Mandalorian.

"You don't have a Mandalorian." Xez stated simply, as though it made all the difference in the world. "Jedi have been our enemies since the time before the Republic. And we're very good at fighting them." His helmet tilted, angling towards the heavy Ryyk blade sheathed over Kroawbaesa's shoulders. "Good enough to tell you that you'll want that coated with Cortosis, or Phrik if you can afford it."

Kroawbaesa had heard of the skill of the Mandalorians before, but had only seen them around Guild headquarters. Not during a hunt. His mention of the Ryyk blade interested the Wookiee more than anything else Xez said. Perhaps the Mando would be a good fit in his crew. "Fine, you're hired. My ship is the HWK-290 freighter on the landing pad that way." Kroawbaesa pointed generally in the direction of the Inglorious, then he handed Xez the slug-throwers, "Take these to the other hunter, a Junker named Trecort. I'm Kroawbaesa. I'll be ready for launch soon." The Wookiee then turned and went to find someone to coat his blade in Cortosis, or Phrik if he could afford it.

Xez took the slug-throwers, the weapons heavy in his arms. More than enough for three hunters. The Wookiee, Kroawbaesa, had to be stock-piling a private arsenal of his own. Xez respected the idea- as a Mandalorian, weapons were a part of his religion. The Wrath One had much of its cargo bay dedicated to a selection of blasters, vibroblades, and other arms and armor of all kinds. The rest... Mandalorian artifacts. His collection was meager, but it would grow.

The Mandalorian took a detour to his own vessel, the Wrath One, ensuring that the Nar Shaddaa dockmaster had left the ship in satisfactory condition. The repair work was adequate, which would have to be enough. Xez waited by the only HWK-290 armed enough to be a Bounty Hunter's ship, assuming that he would recognize a Junker when he saw one.

After finding a sizeable data drive, Trecort wound his way back around to the Inglorious, but stopped when he saw a Mandalorian in armor waiting nearby. At this range his wrist blaster would be inadequate, especially against beskar if tales were true, and the junker didn't have his rifle handy.

Veering off course, Trecort walking along the rim of the set of landing pads until he lost sight of the ship and the mando. Then, making a line for the edge of the landing area, he grabbed into the safety taking and dropped over the side, firing his ascension cable onto the underside of the path. With the help of Trecort's swinging momentum, he reeled himself up, letting his magnetic feet clamp onto the underside of the walkway.

It was slow going, alternating between the cable and the magnets, but he made his way back to the under edge of the Inglorious' landing pad and pulled himself back up. The issue was that metal feet on the metal deck made stealth a long shot, so as soon as he dropped down, he leveled his blaster.

"Identify yourself, Mandalorian."

"Xez Kraid." His helmet angled down toward the Junker's blaster- for he was sure that this thing was a Junker. "You must be Trecort. Your Wookiee friend already told me about the mission you're on." He looked down at the blaster pointed at him. "Put that thing away- this is better for killing Jedi." He thrust one of the slug-throwers into Trecort's hands. He doubted that the Junker's blaster would cause him lethal harm through his armor, but he didn't want to deal with all of the Guild drama that would come from a gunfight at the docks.

"Apologies, I was uninformed," Trecort said, looking over the slug thrower after lowering his blaster. "Although I believe Kroawbaesa has failed to inform you of our current target. These will come in handy later, however. I'll get them stored."

---

Brighthome

"What's the story behind this agent again?" Thrax said as he clicked the same button at the control panel over and over again, shifting through security camera footage of the various training rooms, libraries, halls, armory and dorms. The five clones sat around the control room for the Jedi outpost, Bimbo, Hutch and Fist staring out the large rectangular window at the vast emptiness of space.

"Imperial Intelligence. Lookin' for more Jedi." Said Bimbo, never breaking his gaze on two ARC-170 starfighters drifting past on patrol duties. Thrax scoffed as he pulled his white helmet off and sat it atop the control board. Two more clones entered, both wearing the same plain white armor.

"This place gives me the creeps." Said Train, the door hissing shut behind him. Hutch and Thrax laughed a bit.

"Why? What's creepy about it?" Hutch said as his sight now turned to face Train.

"Do any of you know what happened to the last squad stationed here?" None of the clones answered Train's question, only looking to one another.

"Nevermind. It's a story for another time. Where's the Sergeant?"

"Getting some ruck time in before his shift starts." Said Thrax as he flipped over to the camera with the Intelligence agent on it.

---

Hostile Ships Inbound

Kroawbaesa was aboard the Inglorious as it made it's way through hyperspace towards Brighthome. Kroawbaesa was not in the pilot seat, he was checking to make sure his light freighter was ready to see combat. Shields were charged, cannons were ready, and proton torpedo's were loaded. Next, the Wookiee checked his equipment. Bowcaster was ready as always, his Ryyk blade was sharp and it gleamed with it's new Cortosis coat. He wasn't able to afford the Phrik. Kroawbaesa glanced at the Z-6, it always ended up catching his eye, he needed to save it for the Jedi but that didn't stop him from wanting to use it. He then grabbed his bandoleer of various explosives, leaving the dioxis grenades and mines behind, figuring that they were the best to kill a Jedi with.

After the gear and ship check the Wookiee went back to the pilot's seat getting ready for some 'fancy' flying. Kroawbaesa was not the best pilot, as he cared more for the ground work his job had, but after the years of hunting he gained a passable amount of flying experience. He growled back at Trecort, "We are leaving hyper space now. I could use a co-pilot."

Once out of Hyperspace the Wookiee was looking at Brighthome and with it, Republic starfighters. Once Kroawbaesa saw the fighters he flew in and started blasting.

"Affirmative, redirecting power for optimum combat balance," the Junker called back as he made sure every available weapon was put to use. "Be advised, Kraid, we have three hostiles; engaging star fighter at 10 o'clock high."

The Wrath One blew out of hyperspace into the chaotic space battle, weaving through ARC-170s and V-wings. The Kazellis-class freighter's shields were tuned up to maximum, and its quad-lasers set to auto-mode, targeting and firing at any Republic fighters within range. Xez himself was stocked up to disembark as soon as he could get into the hangar. He'd swapped out heavy blasters, exchanging the RT-97C for a DLT-19, a newer model that had cost him a good amount of credits. From what he'd gotten to test of the weapon, it wouldn't let him down. Other than that, his vibroblade was as shiny as new, and his vambraces each had a full payload ready to use.

"As soon as I see a path to the station's hangar, I'm going for it." The Mandalorian spoke over comms. "The longer we stay out here, the more time they have to deploy fighters."

"Failing to eliminate fighters will make us sitting ducks. Advise compromising any fighters you find in the hangars," Trecort called back over comms.

---

Clone Pilot CT-6639

The once peaceful patrol that the clone had gotten accustomed was now thrown to the wind. He was able to a bit of an alert before the shooting began by his wingman, CT-7455, or "Blaze".

"We've got bogeys on our six!" Blaze screamed just as bolts flung past 6639's ARC-170.

"Cutting right! Brighthome Control, engaging bogeys!" He said as his starfighter cut right while Blaze's cut left. Both starfighters locked in their S-foils.

"Copy, Falcon One, deploying reinforcements!" Called out Thrax. Aboard the Jedi station, two additional pilots had been woken up from their slumbers and hastily threw on their gear as two additional ARC-170s were preparing to warm up. The Kazellis-Class cutting right to follow Blaze, the HWK-290 staying glued to 6639.

"I can't shake him!" Screamed Blaze just as the red bolts from the Kazellis class made contact with his starfighter's engines, igniting them and obliterating Blaze's starfighter into thousands of pieces.

"Blaze is down! I need reinforcements!" Said CT-6639.

Kroawbaesa saw the Mandalorian and Trecort shoot down the first two starfighters in the squad and flew in to take shots on the last. "After this one we land and get Trecort to a terminal." Kroawbaesa growled over comms as he opened fire.

While the two enemies focused on his comrades, the last pilot positioned himself behind the Kazellis-Class, trying to get a lock on target.

"This is Knight! I've got a lock!"

Knight's calmness and steadiness of controls was thrown off as bolts from the second ship impacted with his own, sheering off his Astromech droid's head and striking his right-side wing. "Blast it!". With the second enemy firmly locked onto him, the clone broke off the attack, racking his stick to the right and downward. Despite breaking off, the enemy behind him did not. After several more volleys, the pilot's wing was sheered off by several more strikes to both wings and near the engine compartment. As his wing ripped away, it sent him into a deadspin that would soon be finished off by another shot.

Aboard the station, the clone garrison sounded the alarms as the two pilots, Leg and Chance entered into the hangar, already climbing the ladders.

"Making my approach." Xez informed the Inglorious over the comms. The Wrath One's ion engines flared with blue light as the ship accelerated towards Brighthome's hangar. It was only when the landing struts began to lower that deceleration began. Xez had zero intention of making a normal landing. He cut the engines as the ship began to angle, so that the Wrath One began to enter the hangar at an angle.

"I had a friend back on Mandalore, who was the best pilot we had. Until he died doing this." Xez felt it would be right to tell his fellow hunters, just in case he couldn't pull the maneuver off. Fate, it seemed, had other plans for the Mandalorian. His ship's main engines cut as the Wrath One drifted into the hangar. Its landing struts hit the hangar floor hard, the ship sliding a considerable distance before it finally came to a stop. As the ship slid, the quad-lasers opened fire wildly, in an attempt to disable or destroy any remaining fighters.

As the ship skidded across the hangar floor, the two pilots, who's ARC-170s were already warmed and completing pre-flight checks before closing their canopies, looked in complete shock and awe. Without a good angle to fire on the ship, the pilots scrambled to try to get out of their starfighters, but were much too late. The ship's weapon systems opened fire in a spray of glorious green laser fire. Within seconds, the two starfighters, having taken so much fire, exploded.

From Brighthome Control, the clones formerly present had evacuated the room and sprinted down towards the hangar.

"All personnel! Prepare to repel boarders! I repeat, to all Republic personnel, prepare to repel boarders at the Hangar!" Thrax said over the station's intercom system. Moving down to the Hangar was the Sarge, Bimbo, Hutch, Fist, Train and Wild, with two clones remaining by the doors to Control should they gain further access.

"Thrax! Get any Republic forces here now!" Said the Sarge as they established a defensive line ten yards from the doors that led to Hangar One. The use of the term "Republic" was out of date by now, though in the heat of the moment, it had become habit.

Thrax complied, switching channels station-wide to local sector.

"Mayday, mayday, this is CT-8864 of Brighthome Station. We are under attack by unknown forces! They've gained entry and we are preparing to repel. Any available forces, please respond!" He waited a moment, but no reply came.

Kroawbaesa followed Xez into the hanger and was astonished by the maneuver he pulled off. The Wookiee instead went for a basic landing and as he started leaving his ship the Z-6 caught his eye yet again. Kroawbaesa holstered his bowcaster on his back and picked up the mighty roto-cannon. He then ran out into the hanger and found the nearest door into the rest of the space station. Once he opened the door he was met with a defensive line the clones had made, Kroawbaesa roared and started unloading a hail of bolts at the clones.

Trecort grabbed the data drive and used the cover fire to hurry down the ramp, sliding to a stop behind some crates. Leaning out from the cover, he opened up with his wrist blaster, surveying the hangar for a terminal.

As the clones could hear noises from beyond the door, the Sarge, Bimbo and Hutch took a knee in front while Fist, Train and Wild remained standing behind, optimizing for full fire on target effect. "Stay steady, boys!"

The door, adorned with the symbol of the Jedi Order, slid open, revealing a massive Wookie bearing a Z-6 Rotary Blaster Cannon. Before Sarge could finish giving the order to open fire, six blaster bolts pelted him and Bimbo, killing them both. As the clones returned fire, Hutch and Fist went down.

"Fall back! Get to-agh!" Train took several to his helmet and chest plate, falling lifelessly to the ground. Without a good avenue of escape, Wild fell easily.

"Sarge! Are you there? Sarge, respond!" Thrax got no answer and realized that the defense team was down. Switching to cameras, the clone saw a wookie and Droid enter through the door, past the bodies of the clones. Thrax rose from the chair after getting no reply from any possible reinforcements and moved outside.

"Alright, brothers. They're coming." Thrax said to the two clones as he blasted the control panel to Control, the door shutting closed. The three remaining clones moved up past Control, stopping just short of the main hallway that lead to the Hangar. Thrax and one clone took the right side of the wall joint, the other clone took the opposite. They would hope to ambush them.

"Terminal spotted. Maintain cover fire," Trecort called out as he sprints for the target, firing the occasional shot to try and keep the remaining clones at bay.

Xez didn't waste time lowering the Wrath One's boarding ramp. Instead, he exited up through the top hatch, heavy blaster rifle at hand. He saw the defensive team of clones fall to a hail of blaster fire from Kroawbaesa's rotary cannon. Almost disappointed that they'd all been taken out so easily, the mandalorian ignited his jetpack, soaring off the top of his ship and coming to a landing near Trecort. "Get moving, Junker. I've got you covered." It'd be safe to assume that beskar could take a few blaster shots better than Trecort's cybernetics. "Kro, get opposite me. They'd have to come down this hallway to advance on us."

Kroawbaesa nodded in response and went to Xez. His shoulder and arm ached from being hit with blaster bolts from the clones return fire. Kroawbaesa didn't focus on the pain and instead aimed his cannon down the hallway, waiting for an assault or orders from Trecort.

Noticing that the enemy wasn't moving forward, Thrax looked to the two other clones.

"That's a Z-6 that wookiee's got. Let's draw him out first." The clone said as he peeked back out, watching as the wookie remained in the hall. Thrax made a countdown with his fingers and after he dropped three, he and the clone on the opposite side of the joints emerged, opening fire on the wookie or get as close as they could.

Kroawbaesa let out a howl of pain as the clones hit their target. The Wookiee dove for cover and laid down behind crates. Staying behind cover Kroawbaesa threw one of his thermal detonator down the hall.

The Clones returned behind their cover, Thrax nodding to the other after successfully forcing the furry brute behind cover after riddling him with bolts. Their quiet celebrations would be interrupted by the sounds of a detonator, rolling right in front of them.

"Damn." The detonator exploded, sending all three thrones flying backwards, their armor scorched by the massive explosion.

As the smoke began to dissipate, Thrax crawled, his left leg blown away and his armor blackened, the left side of his helmet seemingly melted. He groaned and whimpered as he tried to crawl towards his DC-15A carbine. He could feel his body beginning to fade and his movements grew slower.

"No....." Thrax managed to whimper out.

"You're a tough son of a bantha, aren't you?" Xez commented after seeing the Wookiee eat more blaster shots than he cared to count. The Mandalorian advanced forward, sweeping down the hallway with his DLT-19 held at the ready. It didn't take him long to find the blackened scorch marks left behind by Kroawbaesa's thermal detonator- and crawling away from it, a clone trooper who looked to be short a leg. The Mandalorian offered no taunts or boasts, no wasted platitudes of honor. He simply leveled his heavy blaster's barrel, and put a smoking hole through the clone's helmet. "Hallway's clear."

"Can you walk?" Trecort called over his shoulder as he walked to the terminal and inserted his Scomp Link. With a physical connection to the station's systems, Trecort would attempt to take control, but upon that being too difficult, he would settle on locating the archives.

Using the crates Kroawbaesa slowly stood himself up. He tried to take a step forward and started to fall but caught his footing. "I can barely walk, I recommend leaving me here to defend the ships while you two go ahead and complete the mission." the Wookiee growled to his two companions.

"Understood," Trecort said as he gave a final turn of the interface.

"I have total access. Best route to the archives determined; I'm putting the station in lockdown, and sealing off all doors besides the ones between us and our goal," The junker said, retracting the link and picking up the data drive again. "Shall we?" He asked the mandalorian.

"Kro- you, bacta, now." Xez assumed the Wookiee was smart enough to bring emergency medical supplies along on their mission. The mandalorian nodded to Trecort, raising his heavy blaster once more. "Let's get this done right."

As the bounty hunters seized control of the Jedi station and began to make their way through the main hall, which looked very reminiscent to the Jedi Temple's, the communications panel inside of Station Control flickered to life, first beginning as harsh static and then clearing up.

"Brighthome Station, this is Admiral Block of the Venator-Class Star Destroyer Negotiator of the Open Circle Fleet. We have received your distress signal and have dispatched a strike force to assist in securing the station. Please hold your positions. Brighthome Station, do you copy? CT-8864, do you read me? We are on the way."

---

Cornelius had finally found the file on Odessen in the third library hall, however important the plant was he had yet to figure that out, perhaps on closer inspection when he left. He also found files on Jedha, and an ice planet where younglings would get their new kyber crystals. It was fascinating indeed. However as he plugged in the data pad that's when he saw it. Freighters emerge out of hyperspace and then proceed to engage the ARC-170s. For their reputation as flying tanks they didn't last very long. Cornelius placed his helmet on, unslinging his Westar-M5 and ran towards the security office.

"Scarbrand copies, heading there now." Cornelius responded to the rally. But then the doors had shut suddenly. Not good

He saw on another window one of the freighters landing. "So they're here to get something." Cornelius thought to himself. He ran faster and harder. He heard the signature sound of blaster fire and the whining of a Z-6. That could have been him if he decided to leave earlier, the adrenaline warmed him at that thought, a close call.
The best way was to sneak around the bounty hunters, for all he knew these could be people hired by the Jedi to destroy their archives and he wasn't exactly on the friendly side of the Jedi neither yet. But sneaking would be near impossible without optical camouflage which he regret not getting with the then Republic Intelligence quartermasters.

A trap would be the best course of action at the moment. He checkedand saw that he had a few grenades he could stick onto the walls. On a door frame he placed a flash grenade below the topmost part of the door frame, set to remote detonation, and then readied a thermal detonator which he would throw after the flash grenade's detonation.

Hiding behind a bookshelf on an elevated section of the hall he waited, in the window he saw the shape of the pronged hull of a Venator. Or was he just imagining things? Regardless he was alone for the moment and had to do something.

---

Taking the lead with the the data drive in his left hand, Trecort held right arm aloft, keeping his wrist blaster at the ready. "I counted one lifeform remaining further within. Could be another plucky clone, so be ready," Trecort said as they neared the archives.

"Might give one of us a chance to fight something. Are you able to monitor his location?" Xez asked, cape billowing around him as he followed after Trecort. The Junker's mechanical legs kept a quick pace, and Xez found himself walking fast to keep up.

"No. I set up security for our advantage but would need to connect with the station's systems again to scan further," Trecort replied as they walked.

"Damn... that's going to hinder us..." Xez grumbled. He had a way of scanning himself, but it always gave him a headache. "Take the lead position, I'm activating my helmet tracker. Should be able to find our mystery lifeform if he's close." Xez pressed one of the buttons on his vambrace, activating the tracker overlay for his helmet's HUD. It began mapping out footprints around him, as well as checking for lifesigns, even through nearby walls. The excess information, however, would be nothing but a distraction if they found themselves in combat.

"Affirmative," Trecort replied as they reached the door to the archives. After going flush with the side of hallway, Trecort did a brief scan of the room. Seeing that it was clear from what he saw, he stepped through and glanced either way, looking for the potential hostile.

"Hold up." Xez grabbed the Junker's shoulder. "One lifesign, inside that room. He's either been in the archive this whole time, or beat us there. Maybe marching in like that wouldn't be wise?"

Cornelius heard the steps and took a peek. He saw a rather well dressed droid walk through, cautiously, they knew he was here. Looking to his wristpad he tapped the blinking red button and pressed it. The flash grenade on the door frame went off with a bang. Popping out he fired around the droid, one of the blue bolts hit the droid's blaster arm.

"I know you're not alone so I'm only going to ask you once to tell your friend to come out and what you're doing here. I don't want to kill uneededly." Cornelius kept his Westar-M5 aimed at the droid while glancing at the door once in a while.

After everything went white and something slams into his arm, Trecort dives for where he thought cover was behind a book shelf based on his last memory of the room and his mental map from he security system.

"Big mistake!" Trecort called back as the world started to come back. He could tell his wrist blaster was out of commission, so he slung his rifle from his shoulder and put down the data drive.

The shot had to come from his right, so Trecort flanked left relative to the entrance of the room and popped out, rattling off a shot at the last remaining hostile before ducking back into cover.

"Don't think I share your reservations about killing." Xez replied. Trecort's quickdraw shot gave him a vague idea of where their aggressor was- and at present, that was all he needed. The Mandalorian shut off his tracker vision before flanking left, as Trecort had. Unlike Trecort, Xez advanced into the room without fear, trusting in his armor to protect him. He opened fire with the DLT-19, spraying a wave of laser bolts toward the Republic Agent's position.

Cornelius flinched at the hit. Falling to the ground for awhile he noticed the nasty gash on the helmet. Everything seemed to work for now, but two against one, it was time to run. The only way out was the same door they came in from. But how was he going to get out?

Cornelius drew a thermal detonator and a smoke grenade threw it at the general direction of the bounty hunters. After the smoke he tool advantage of the obstruction he then moves closer to the door, ready to make a break for it.

Watching the orb sail down, Trecort's mechanical limbs sprung into action. He scooped up the detonator and hurled it back where it came from seconds before detonation.

As the fight raged on in Brighthome's Archives, several signatures appeared on Kro's ships sensors. An Imperial strike force composed of two Nu-Class Shuttles, each carrying a full complement of thirty troopers each. Flanking the two shuttles on both sides were two ARC-170 starfighters, totaling four, spreading out and locking in their S-foils.

"Brighthome Control, this is CT-3368 of the Negotiator Strike Force. We are approaching Hangar One and Hangar Two. Prepare to receive."

Kroawbaesa looked up from tending his wounds as the Inglorious' sensors were going off. He thought the job would be over by the time reinforcements arrived but Trecort and Xez weren't back. Kroawbaesa quickly went to his comms and roared into it, "A Republic force is here. We need to leave now!"

"Damn," Trecort thought to himself, his mind racing for a solution.

"Kroawbaesa, take off and circle around. We can't let the ship be captured. Xez and I hit a complication. We'll finish up here and find an alternative route to meet you."

"This is your lucky day," he then called out to the republic agent. "We have a job to do. Scamper off like an injured wamp rat and we won't bother hunting you down."

Moving back, Trecort grabbed the data drive and looked for another terminal.

"We really don't have time to search for terminals, Trecort." Xez growled.

"Unless you can cut through all the doors between us and an escape route, I need to find a terminal. Additionally, I can slow the troopers down with the same token."

Cornelius got to a corner and slumped down, taking off his helmet he breathed in heavily. "Good fight gentlemen. See you around. "

---

Will the Bounty Hunters acquire their target information? Will Cornelius make it out of this jam alive? Or will the Imperial forces take them all down? Find out in the thrilling next chapter of The Attack on Brighthome!

[Dentali]

Berethon Horn
Jaemus, Jaemus System, Obtrexta Sector, Outer Rim Territories
K-4

Berethon stayed close to the shadows as the convoy came under fire. It was unlikely he'd be seen, given his distance from the combat but it never hurt to be prepared. The Guerillas attacked the convoy expertly, the guards only local security forces and not Clone Troopers, they were undisciplined, confused and lacked the motivation to fight. Jaemus Guerillas had hit convoys in this rocky region for months now and Berethon figured he only need to shadow them for a short period before seeing another ambush. He had not been disappointed.

Maybe 20 guerillas, or so Berethon thought, as he observed next to his speeder bike and using his binoculars. Within 5 minutes the fighting had stopped and the Guerillas began stripping the dead and offloading the goods before heading off back to their base before reinforcements showed up. Berethon wasn't far behind, he would follow them at a distance until he found the Guerilla camp, and then find a way to speak to their leader.

[Okayanos]

The Attack on Brighthome: Part 2

Three Months Ago

Dramatis Personae

Xez Kraid, Mandalorian Bounty Hunter
Kroawbaesa, Wookiee Bounty Hunter
Trecort, Junker Bounty Hunter
Cornelius Mors, Former Republic Intelligence
CT-3368 'Cross', Clone Captain

---

Brighthome Station
Hunter's Pride

Reaching the central archive terminal, Trecort jacked into the interface with his scomp link. The first priority was shutting the doors leading from the hangars and creating false life readings that would throw their opponents off their scent. Next, he fed a cable from the data drive from the terminal and started pulling everything he could relating to locations important to the Jedi. A secondary target was their fighting styles and tactics, and a tertiary target for anything else that the data drive could hold.

While that was transferring, he tried to find a new escape route. There was an airlock towards the back of the station that he and Xez could make an escape from. "Kroawbaesa, be advised, we are going to attempt to make it to an emergency airlock. Make a pass once we're there and we'll come aboard."

"I have my own plans, Junker." Xez spoke, taking a moment to let excess heat vent from his DLT-19. "I'm not leaving Wrath One to the hands of the Republic. If they started pulling data from the ship, they could track us." He started towards the airlock quickly, letting Trecort bring up the rear.

---

Aboard Nu-Class Shuttle, operation name Strike One

CT-3368, otherwise known as Cross by his fellow clones, unholstered his DC-17 hand blasters from his Kama, the other two lines of clones stood silent, unmoving.

"Thirty seconds!" Called out the Shuttle's crewmaster.

"Alright, troopers! Check weapons!" Called out Captain Cross as the other troopers, their armor patterns matching that of their commander's raised their DC-15S carbines, checking the tibanna gas cartridges and ensuring their weapons would be ready when they needed them.

"This is Strike Two, entering Hangar Two, now!" Called out the Shuttle pilot from the opposite side of the station, which had been devoid of activity."

"Ten seconds!" Cross moved to the front of the shuttle in front of the door. Behind him, the first line of troopers raised their blasters, ready to lay down a heavy volley of suppressing fire.

As the Strike One entered Hangar One, they noticed the smoldering wreckage of the two ARC-170s and across from them sat two ships, most likely belonging to those responsible for attacking the station. Before the shuttle's landing gear touched the floor, the front hatch hissed and lowered down, revealing Cross and the thirty clones behind him.

"Go, go, go! Spread out and secure this hangar! I want two squads on those ships, on the double!"

"Sir, yes, sir!" Called out the green and blue troopers, two squads of nine pressing forward with their rifles raised, keeping a tight formation, as the other twelve troopers, including Cross moving towards the Station's main entrance, which seemed to be closed shut.

Cornelius pulled out one of his Personal Aid Kits and grabbed a syringe filled with painkillers. Pulling th protective cap off he then jammed it into his abdominal area sporting blaster marks, some of them having penetrated. It would be a few sessions of the dunk tank for sure. He then pulled out a canister of bacta and began applying it to his injuries.

Seeing the two unused PAKs he decided to see if anyone else who wasn't a bounty hunter needed it.

"Hey, is anyone from the garrison injured? I can help you. Hello?" Cornelius whispered quietly but just loud enough for anyone on Imperial frequencies to hear.

As the clones made their way to the door, Cross immediately replied to the words of the unknown male communicating on Brighthome's station-wide frequency. He could tell from the voice that it wasn't one of his brothers.

"Who the hell is this? State your name and business on this station!"

The transmission came aloud from the his gauntlet radio, luckily he had the foresight to lower it's volume to the minimum. Cornelius slipped his helmet back on and the communications suite of the helmet linked.

"It's me, the Re- Imperial Intelligence agent, Lieutenant Mors, are you injured trooper? Stay put I'll get to you." Cornelius said in a whisper again.

He prepared himself to get up but then remembered why the bounty hunters stopped. The only explanation was either the station was going down or there were reinforcements outnumbering them.

"Wait, are you reinforcements?" Cornelius asked, still in a whisper.

"For an Intelligence operative, you seem pretty daft! Of course, we're reinforcements! We were alerted to a distress beacon from this station before we lost all communications with the troopers here. Assuming you really are who you say you are, Lieutenant Mors, I'll ask again. What is your business on this station and what happened to the clones stationed here?!"

Cornelius coughed a bit, he would let that insult pass for now. "I'm here to gather information to kill the Jedi. The station went into lockdown during an attack by bounty hunters who are very close by. I didn't even know there was a distress beacon sent out. Now I'm currently injured but stable."

For a moment, Captain Cross contemplated what this supposed intelligence agent was saying. An undocumented mission to enforce Order 66 without the knowledge of any other soldier in the Republic Army? It wouldn't be likely.

"You expect me to believe that these bounty hunters slaughtered every clone here but somehow spared you? You know what? You stay put where you are, Agent. Once we secure this station, I'm placing you under arrest. If your story checks out, you'll be released. Cut this door open!" The Captain said to his troops as they pulled out their cutters, preparing to slice through the door.

Cornelius lost his patience but was still able to keep it to a whisper. "Yeah, yeah, yeah, yeah. Look you have a junker and a Mandalorian using beskar from the looks of it. They only let me go because of your arrival. "

"If you're telling the truth, then stay put! We'll handle them." Said Cross as he monitored the progress of the clones cutting through the door. "Strike Two, how's your progress?"

"Slow, Captain. They've locked the doors. We're trying to cut our way through."

"Cut faster. We need to get in there!" He said as he turned to look back at the two clone squads moving to investigate their targets: the ships belonging to the enemy.

---

Brighthome Hangar
Death-Defying Escapes

Kroawbaesa heard Trecorts message and growled an acknowledgement back to him. Right before the Wookiee took off, Clones landed in the hanger and started moving towards the Inglorious and Xez's ship. Kroawbaesa hurried up the launch sequence, and he soon felt the engines kick in. He was taken into space, but Kroawbaesa had to be fast before the clones started to shoot him down. The Wookiee turned his ship towards the emergency airlock Trecort planned to use to come aboard. The Wookiee didn't know that much about Junkers beyond the obvious, but if droids could function in space, why not the mostly-droid Junker? Once he was nearing the airlock, Kroawbaesa activiated his comms. "Trecort, I'm near the airlock."

As the HWK-290 fired up it's engines and lifted from the ground, both squads opened fire, peppering the ship with bolt burns, but doing little else.

"Both teams, get to that other ship! Quickly!" Cross said, lifting his arm and activating the communicator on his helmet.

"We've got a ship attempting to flee!" Said Cross to the ARC-170 pilots patrolling outside.

Cross turned around to see the progress his clones were making. With two troopers working on both sides, they were halfway done with the cut.

---

Brighthome Airlock

Xez glanced out the sealed airlock at the sleek form of the Inglorious hovering outside. It was a nice ship, truth be told. But he had a nicer ship waiting for him in the hangar, surrounded by hostile invading clones. The safe option would be to step out and board the Inglorious, and make a swift getaway. But, Kazellis-class freighters weren't exactly cheap ships. And he had an entire stash of Mandalorian wares aboard the Wrath One, the kinds of things that couldn't just be replaced. And most importantly, the Mandalorian Way wasn't about taking the safe, low-risk option. Xez sealed his armor against a vacuum, indicators appearing on his helmet HUD to measure his remaining oxygen supply. Vacuum seal was meant to be a survival option, in case an armored mandalorian was spaced by an enemy, not for maneuvers like this. Xez pulled down the lever on the airlock's control panel, opening it to the vacuum of space. He waved the Inglorious aside, signalling that he wouldn't be boarding. Instead, he leaped outward, and felt gravity's hold on him vanish as he entered the cold of space.

Xez's oxygen supply depleted at a slow, steady rate as he forced himself to control his breathing. He fired his jetpack, angling the thrusters to keep himself close to Brighthome's outer walls. One upside to void travel was that he only needed a short burst from his jetpack to move in any direction, which made fuel conservation that much easier. He kept himself close to the space station, enough that he could try and grab hold of it with bare hands or grappling cable if something went horribly wrong. The Mandalorian rounded the station's corner, the blue glow of the hangar's forcefield visible before him. 75% oxygen remaining. He could do it. Xez reached the edge of the hangar's entrance, grabbed hold tightly, and pulled himself through- only to fall to the ground roughly as gravity took hold of him once more.
He scrambled to his feet, now alone with a group of hostile clones just across the hangar. Speed was more key than stealth here. Xez fired his jetpack once more, cape flaring behind him like black wings as he once more soared across the hangar, aiming for a landing atop the Wrath One. For good measure, he loosed a barrage of laaran senaare- known as Whistling Birds or Songbirds to those not fluent in Mando'a. The tiny missiles let out their signature cry as they homed in on the clone teams approaching the Wrath One.

Captain Cross's head turned in multiple directions as he tried to pinpoint where the loud rush of noise was coming from. His head snapped to the sounds of what seemed to be whistling, twisting and turning in air, impacting against five of his troopers, their bodies falling to the ground as the rest of the closest clones opened fire.

"Take him down! Don't let him board!" Yelled at Cross, ordering two more troopers to reinforce the teams.

Sky-blue laser bolts flew past as Xez's boots clanged onto the top of the Wrath One. With no time to bring his heavy blaster out, he instead elected to draw his trusty DL-18 sidearm, sending return fire towards the clones as he made his way to the ship's top entry hatch, trusting in his beskar to protect him. "These Jedi bounties better be worth all this." He felt the heavy impacts of blaster fire against his armor, and it was enough to make him dive down the ship's entry hatch recklessly. He landed inside the ship hard, crashing down in a rough landing that elicited a pained groan from the Mandalorian- but he was safe in his ship, and the hatch slammed shut beside him. "I'm on my ship. Let's put this place in our rear-view and haul jets." Xez spoke through his comm, once he'd drawn breath back into his lungs and hauled himself back to a standing position.

---

The Inglorious

As Xez was dealing with the landing party, Trecort stood in the vented airlock until the Inglorious came into view. Deactivating his magnetic feet, he jumped into the void, firing his ascension cable and winding himself to the ship. Reactivating his magnets, he hit the side of the ship with a Clang.

"Start the jump sequence," Trecort called to the wookiee. From there, it was simple enough to access the ship's airlock, climbing inside and closing the hatch.

Kroawbaesa watched the Junker and Mandalorian make the daring jumps. The Wookiee was glad he stayed near the ship, more went wrong than he would have liked but they were pulling through. He heard the loud clang from Trecort hitting the ship and waited until he knew the Junker was inside before pulling away. Once Kroawbaesa heard confirmation from Xez he growled over comms, "Meet us back on Nar Shadaa Xez. Good luck." He then punched in the coordinates for Nar Shadaa and the Inglorious was quickly launched into hyper space.

---

Brighthome Hangar

Xez's Daredevil Dogfight

The Wrath One's engines purred to life as the ship awoke from its slumber. Xez unslung his DLT-19, dropping the heavy blaster beside the pilot's seat and strapping himself in. He'd long since grown accustomed to the weight of his weapons and his beskar pressing down on him, enough that losing even a piece of it was enough to make him feel lighter. The Kazellis-class began to ascend, rising and leaving the hangar even as the detachment of Clone Troopers swarmed around it. Kroawbaesa's rumbling Shyriiwook echoed over the comms, and from what Xez heard, the Wookiee was already leaving. Xez couldn't find it in himself to be offended- he would've done the same thing. As the Wrath One cleared hangar space and accelerated to travel speed, he saw that his escape wouldn't be as easy as that of the Inglorious. Like a flock of malevolent crows, split-winged heavy fighters- former Republic ARC-170s- dispatched from the approaching Venator began to dart about, flitting towards him in what was unmistakably an attack formation. The Mandalorian steeled himself, reaching down inside and finding that fiery heart that lay inside every warrior- every true warrior, that is- and powered up his shields. He couldn't see, but could picture clearly the Wrath One's engines shining a pure blue as their power output was pushed to combat speed. Xez guided the freighter through a series of evasive maneuvers as the ARC-170 formation scattered like a wave over rock. He felt his blood rushing, heartbeat pounding in his ears, and knew he was in his rightful place as a Mandalorian. The Wrath One's cannons, obeying the will of their pilot, began to lock and fire upon the oncoming fighters.

As the Kazellis-Class freighter rose from the hangar floor, Captain Cross lowered his blaster pistols, examining the scene as seven troopers lay dead, the rest continuing to fire on the ship with minimal effect. He turned to see the doors almost completely cut through then received a ping on his comlink. "This is Team Two, we are through!" Said the clone to the Captain. Cross turned back around and waved for the boarding team and company to retreat.

"Get back here! Don't worry about him, let him go! The flyboys will deal with him." As the Captain walked back over to the entry door, he called back over to the force on the other side. "Get to Central Control and power up the defensive turrets, now!" Ordered the Captain just as the doors fell through, revealing a tan-colored hallway with some art etched into them, as was the case for most Jedi-maintained facilities. Apart from the others, this hallway was heavily marked with blaster burns and towards the end of the hall, Cross saw the bodies of many of the garrison's force, riddled burnt holes in their white armor.

"Go, go, go! Clear this station!" Said Cross as the strike force spread through Brighthome.

"Dorms, clear!"

"Kitchens are clear!"

"The door to Central is fried, gonna have to burn our way through!" The various voices announced their positions and statuses over the communications channel for Brighthome. Knowing the door to Control was deactivated only meant that exterior defenses weren't gonna be of any help to the pilots outside. Cross groaned, lifted his pistols and set off towards the Archives.
"All forces, converge on the Archives!"

---

"This is Sabre! I've got this bastard in my sights!" Said CT-4468 as he followed closely behind the Kazellis-Class freighter, locking his S-foils into attack position.

"Keep on him, Sabre! I'm right behind you." Said another pilot, named Stone, or CT-9492.
They watched as one of their brothers, swept right into view of the freighter, hoping to intercept him, but instead placed himself right into the crosshairs of the enemy.

Xez blew straight through the explosion of the destroyed ARC-170, flames lapping at the edges of his ship's view-screen as he did. The Republic Fighters were nothing more than obstacles blocking his escape, and yet he felt the rush of combat all the same. He began to put the fighters behind him, directing one of the Wrath One's turrets rearward to target any tailing enemies. He had to break away from the fighter formation and get to hyperspace, preferably before whatever capital ship the ARC-170s had deployed from arrived.

"No!" Screamed out Sabre, as he watched Ezo's starfighter disintegrate into a million pieces and within those pieces laid the shredded bodies of his brothers Ezo, Nolan and Slacker. Brothers that he'd grown closer to than the rest of them. Brothers that he'd been with since Christophsis. All the memories he'd made with them, gone in a flash of light. His moment of mourning had been interrupted by the pale red bolts of the freighter's turret. He wasn't given even the slightest moment to break contact or even to return fire. In a flash of light and hardly a rumble, his life was gone.

"Damn! Ezo and Sabre are down!" Yelled Stone as he flung right through Sabre's debris field, staying stuck to the Freighter.

"Stone, stay on him, I'm coming around." Said the fourth pilot very calmly.

"I'm taking a shot, Kal!" Said Stone as he pressed down on his starfighter's control, resulting in the fighter firing off several bolts of pure energy.

"Blast it-" The Wrath One's hull as laser bolts impacted. Xez growled at his co-pilot droid to begin a jump to Nar Shaddaa, but when he attempted to launch, he was met only with the signature sound of a hyperdrive misfire. The Clones had gone and damaged something vital. "F3, take over. Do not let them hit us again." F3-L1's hollow gaze followed Xez as he stood from his seat, heading into the back of the ship to try and fix whatever had broken. The pilot droid chirped out a reply in the artificial, almost musical tone she used to communicate. Xez had specified that his droid co-pilot be given female programming when he'd purchased her. The reasoning was simple- Bounty Hunting, though not a male-exclusive business, was a male-dominated one, and Xez wanted some kind of variety in his life. F3 had rarely seen anything outside of the ship ever since she was installed, and he figured that the pilot droid's programming kept her happy with that. As happy as a machine could be, that is. The additional sloped plating atop F3's head cast a small shadow over her photo-receptors as her artificial gaze returned to the field of stars ahead of her.

Xez crouched on the walkway in the very rear of the ship, repair tools in hand, finding the hyperdrive in a sorry state indeed. Components knocked from their proper place or fried by the heat of the laser blast. It took a bit of quick jury-rigging, but a steady hum told him that it'd be in something close enough to working condition, at least for one more jump. The Mandalorian withdrew himself from the engineering access space, contacting F3 through his helmet and telling her to make the jump, now. A few more blasts from the ARC-170s dinged the Wrath One's hull as the droid's processor was fully occupied by hyperspace calculations, too much to continue firing the turrets. Nevertheless, the Kazellis-class warped into the swirling blue vortex of hyperspace, finally making its escape.

---

And so, the Bounty Hunters make their escape, with information on Jedi secured! But their quest is not over- now, they have to find and eliminate a Jedi! And meanwhile, Cornelius faces a battalion of Imperial troopers suspicious of his allegiance- What could happen next? While the Attack on Brighthome may have concluded, our story is nowhere near finished!

[San Har Jasta]

CT-6264 'Brutus'

Paranoia strikes deep

One week after Order 66
Coruscant

Captain Brutus had been told to wait on Coruscant until further orders came in from his superiors. The Clone Captain had the 411th, or what was left of them, take the time for some R&R. Most stayed in the clone bar for the duration of their visit. Clone bar. To Brutus this seperate bar was the way the Empire and its people really showed how they felt about the clones. They were only for war. They were expendable. They were made to die. Brutus felt hatred towards the Empire for creating his brothers and himself only to die for them. But this hatred was overshadowed by his preprogrammed love for serving the former Republic.

Brutus received a call on his comms to gather his men and meet an officer on the Triumph, apparently he was finally getting orders. Orders were what he needed most. Brutus found R&R impossible, he could never relax knowing even one jedi survived. His hatred towards the jedi never went away, it stayed in his thoughts, constantly telling him to end his old general. Brutus needed to find Dan Brovil, to see him suffer as all jedi must. The Captain needed conflict to satisfy the hate but the war was over. He had stayed in the Triumph to make sure it was ready for any conflict that would hopefully arise.

Once his men were gathered he waited on the bridge in his armor for this new officer to arrive. The doors to the bridge opened and out walked a human wearing the new Imperial uniform. Brutus could tell at first glance that he wasn't a clone. He was a man with his own face, the very image of the gentleman officer, with neatly combed hair and a beard that had a few streaks of silver creeping into them. The man’s uniform was grey, and clearly freshly ironed. Sharp hazel eyes met Brutus’ as the officer- a captain, according to his rank patch- threw up a salute, "Captain Aldolin Hernwick of the 411th reporting for duty, sir."

Brutus was taken back, was this Hernwick taking his job? "The 411th already have a captain." he snarled back

"Yes, sir. Congratulations on your promotion, you're a Commander now. And with this promotion comes a new Captain- me. As your new second in command, I strongly urge that we follow these orders-" Captain Hernwick gestured toward a datapad under his arm. “-which come directly from the office of Emperor Palpatine.” The Captain’s core worlds accent was strong and so was his attitude. "We are to go to Kamino to receive additional clone personnel. You, and a selection of clone troopers of your choosing, will be receiving additional training as part of a new special forces project. Then, we will be serving under a group called the Inquisitorius."

"If clones are still being made, why are you here? And what is this Inquisitorius and new project?" It seemed like the army he knew was already changing so fast. Brutus felt lucky that an old clone like himself found a spot in this changing Empire.

"I am here because of my successful career in the former Republic Navy, and Naboo Royal Space Fighter Corps before that. As for the Inquisitorius, everything beyond the name is classified, sir."

Brutus looked at his new Captain for a few seconds until he turned and told CT-1000 and CT-2233, or as they were better known, Grand and Double, to prepare for launch. "Take us to Kamino." We are going home.

Two months after Order 66

Born to be a Purge Trooper
Kamino

For the past two months, Brutus had been going through intense training as part of what he now knew was the Purge Initiative. He wasn't alone, he was joined by some of the last clones kamino made and clones handpicked from the old 411th. Brutus was still in command of the 411th but was primarily a purge trooper commander and most of his old job was given to his second in command, Captain Hernwick. Brutus and his squad of purge troopers called themselves "The Last Batch". The members Brutus chose were CT-2130 "Steppenwolf", CT-3629 "Creedence", CT-5096 "Door", and CT-4450 "Sabbath".

Being a purge trooper came with new equipment. They were given new red and black airborne clone armor that was apparently lightsaber resistant. Brutus kept his old helmet and parts of his old armor that had his etchings on them and put them on instead of the new armor pieces, making a mix of purge trooper and clone trooper armor for the commander. With his new armor came new etchings. On the right shoulder he wrote "Here today, gone tomorrow", on the left side of his helmet he wrote "No mercy for betrayers".

They were also outfitted with a choice of twin electrobatons,an electrostaff, or an electrohammer, Brutus chose the hammer as it seemed to fit his personality the best. These weapons were unimpressive to Brutus. After training with this new weapon it had started to grow on him and the commander wanted to face a Jedi to truly test the mighty hammer. Along the long handle Brutus etched "The Solution".

Brutus' hate for Jedi remained strong, and The Last Batch had inherited it from him. CT-6264 was itching for one of the traitors to be found when his training was finished, so that he could finally let his hatred out of the internal cage he kept it contained in. His wishes were answered- shortly after Brutus, Steppenwolf, Credence, Door, and Sabbath completed their grueling training, Captain Hernwick informed them that Imperial Intelligence had located a surviving Jedi on Imdaar. Once he heard her name, Brutus laughed to himself. Their target was Nuvani Khir, his former general’s master. Brutus hoped that he would soon be able to finish the job he started on Allst Prime and kill Dan Brovil, but the Jedi’s master would do. Even the thought of General Brovil’s name drove Brutus mad. He’d failed once, but when they met again, he wouldn’t repeat his mistake.

The Triumph had been fully stocked up, carrying a squad of V-Wing Fighters, several LAAT Gunships, and a full complement of speeder bikes and AT-RTs. The reasoning behind the decision, as Captain Hernwick explained, was to encourage fast and decisive strikes, carried out before the enemy had any chance of retaliation. This was the same combat philosophy taught to Brutus during his Purge training, and he found himself approving of the change- even if he would miss having a full detachment of AT-TEs at his disposal.

The massive Acclamator-class slowly broke from Kamino’s orbit, piercing through the void of space like a mighty spear. Brutus stood on the bridge of the Triumph once more, watching as the stars stretched into brilliant streaks, and the ship began its hyperspace voyage toward Imbaar, and the Jedi. The trip would be a short one, but to Brutus, every moment he was forced to wait stretched into an eternity.

[Laiakia]

Tuka Tisrygian
Odessen

---

Breathing slowly, Tuka opened his eyes and looked around his assigned room. This had originally been a small storage area, but Tuka had turned it into his own. A few of the heaviest crates were still placed in the back, but it was acceptable for Tuka. Not as if he had any right to complain, anyways.
Rising from the floor that he sat on, Tuka went over and sat in a nice and comfortable chair. More specifically, the pilot chair of the YT-1300 freighter that Tuka nearly crashed onto his fellow Jedi when he came to the planet. Over the course of the 3 months they had been here, it had been cannibalized and it’s various parts had been used to both fix up the base, repairing the other Jedi’s starships, and to create some small entertainment areas, such as a hologame table that now had been moved into an easily accessible area for entertainment purposes.

Breathing a sigh of relief when he sat down, Tuka grabbed his lightsabers from his belt and examined them, thinking back to his training sessions with former-Knight-turned-Master Nardrashtasch. Most of the time, the Wookie would be the one going on the offensive, and Tuka just couldn’t shake that feeling that it was a sort of ‘payback’ for almost crushing him with a starship.
“Still though..”, Tuka thought. “Being hard on me is useful, especially during this time of strife..”
Standing back up, the Jedi Padawan began wandering around his small abode, thinking. In the past months, he had begun taking walks out in the wilderness, enjoying the air and freedom of the wild. Perhaps that was what he needed. A calm place to train his saber skills, atleast for the moments when he needs silence.
With a destination in mind, Tuka left his room, and eventually left the base undiscovered and undisturbed.

---

Wandering through trees and stones, Tuka could still se the base in the distance.

“Wouldn’t want to go too far, just in case.”, he thought.

Looking up at the skies while walking, the Padawan thought about the other Jedi out there. There were thounsands of them, and yet, it seemed only a handful survived.

“What of the Council?”, he thought. “Did any more Masters survive?”

Tuka was unsure, but even more so concerned about his situation. If their little enclave here were to be discovered by the now-defunct-Republic-turned-Empire, where would they flee to? The Outer Rim seemed to be the best area, as last time he checked the news, the Empire still hadn’t had the time nor resources to establish control. Sighing again before looking back down to the forest floor, he came upon a small clearing that he had discovered after his first trip into the wild. Visible saber-burns littered the trees and ground where Tuka had spent his time.

Taking a moment to catch his breath, the young Jedi stretched his arms before force pulling his sabers from his belt and igniting them. Twirling them around a small bit, Tuka then proceeded to practice various steps and stances, swinging with his lightsabers slowly before speeding up. He also began including various flips and saber tricks while practicing.

His body remained focused while his mind drifted to other things. He began to dwell on the betrayal of the clones, the supposed involvement of a Jedi coup, and the rise of Chancellor Sheev Palpatine into Emperor. But the thing he dwelt longest on was the way he had slain his patrol squad so recklessly. All his young life as a Padawan, he’d almost spent the entire time with them. Even though they looked the same, they all had different personalities. He even remembered their CT numbers.

CT-5926, Trojar, he was their squad leader and Tuka’s bestest of buddies. Still he remembered how his saber had killed him. CT-9264, Ink, the one that wrote the reports after their patrols. Tuka remembered the many nights they had spent drinking after a patrol before they headed back to the surface. Then there was CT-8552, Crush, he had gained his nickname after he almost got crushed by a speeder crashing out of control during a chase for some criminals. A wild-card, that one, Tuka thought.

As Tuka’s thoughts dwelt on their names, he couldn’t even imagine how they attempted to shoot him in the back. Did they feel betrayed? Was there regret? A small tear escaped from his left eye as he screamed in frustration, sending his right saber flying through a tree, cutting it in half and letting it fall onto the forest floor with a boom.

“.. I did what had to be done..”, Tuka said to himself.

”You did what to be done..”[\i], a low and whispered voice spoke suddenly, causing Tuka to look around as his saber returned to his hand.

“Is anyone there?!”, he said while attaining a defensive stance.

A shape then moved in the tree-line, undiscernible in appearance, but visible enough to be spotted by Tuka.

[i]”Come.”, the whispered voice said again. Tuka was now certain that the strange voice came from the direction of the figure, which now had disappeared.

Tuka now stood at a crossroad, he could either follow the voice, or flee back to the enclave and tell the other Jedi.

”Oh, but they would not believe you., the voice said again, almost as if it had read his mind so easily.

Seeing no other option, Tuka decided to follow the voice, casting a last glance at the base before venturing deeper into the forest.

---

Wandering further and further into the deep forest, lead by this mysterious voice, Tuka eventually came upon a cave, deep and dark. Staring into the darkness, he felt alone, and cold. Once again, the voice spoke, stronger now and more demanding.

”Enter.”

The Jedi Padawan looked around one last time before begrudgingly walking into the cave, lightsaber drawn and lighting the way. Walking further and further into the darkness, Tuka felt like he had wandered an eternity.

Turning a corner, Tuka became face-to-face with a rough cave wall. Grumbling that he had walked that distance just to turn back, made him kick the wall and turn around, only for him to realize that he no longer was in the cave. Instead, he was back outside the base. Looking around, Tuka felt as if something was off, and almost as if on que, a multitude of dropships came flying in towards the base, as the AA defenses kicked into action. Watching in horror as more and more ships appeared, the cherry on top was the arrival of an entire Venator. The base never stood a chance as the huge ship opened fire and completely obliterated the complex and anyone stuck inside.

Once again, he felt cold and alone. Blinking twice the burning and ruined complex was instead replaced by darkness once more, and the Jedi found himself back in the cave in an open area.

“What the kriff was that?!”, Tuka exclaimed, afraid and unsure.

”That.. was a force vision. Something common on places as strong in the Force as this planet.”, spoke the voice again, more audible now and no longer a whisper.

Realizing that the voice was now present, Tuka activated his other saber, helping illuminate the open area in a blue hue, yet it revealed no one. Yet again, Tuka was becoming unnerved by this strange being that he could not see.

“What are you?! Show yourself at once!”

The voice let out a bellowing laughter that seemed to echo for miles.

”You poor fool. You have no idea of who or what I am.”

The young Padawan looked around slowly, looking for anything out of the ordinary that could indicate a presence, yet he could not see anything, and his training had not exactly been focused on sensing through the force.

“Show yourself!”, Tuka shouted in a somewhat commanding tone, yet you could hear his resolve falter towards the end which made the voice chuckle and respond in a mocking tone.

”As you wish.

Almost instantly, the darkness became crushing, making the Jedi drop his lightsabers on the ground and clutch his head. Just out of his view that now had darkened once the sabers deactivated out of his hand, Tuka could now spot a ghostly figure forming from the darkness around. Once the figure had formed properly, the crushing feeling of the darkness dissipated, and Tuka quickly grabbed his lightsabers again, igniting the room back in a blue hue and fully revealing the being that stood before him.
Observing the figure Tuka watched as it stepped closer towards him, each step making a metallic crunch as the boots of the figure walked. The figure was black-mantelled, huge and threatening with an aura of despair, pain and anger that seemed to consume the room the closer it came to the Padawan. It wore a void-black robe, darker than the cave, with metallic boots peeking out from it when it walked. The robe itself seemed to cover the entirety of its figure, only stopping at the wrists and allowing a pair of metal gauntlets take the visage. On its left shoulder it bore a similar armored piece that looked to have a symbol that Tuka could not recognize painted onto it. Though it was the helmet-like item that frightened Tuka the most. A crown of steel, the figure bore, with smaller spikes pointed slightly upwards going around it. Two sheets of metal were connected from the sides, going down the figure’s face and ending in a sharp point some ways past the cheek. Two smaller spikes had also been fastened inwardly a little bit over the cheek, formulating an area where the supposed face was. The crowning piece of the headwear was a giant spike erupting from the front of the crown, shooting up into the air like a tower of dread.
The figure looked at Tuka much like how a predator would look at prey, and spoke again.

”Are you afraid, scum? Afraid of the potentiality of the vision, or perhaps, afraid of me?”

Attempting to steady himself, Tuka took a deep breath and attempted to remember his training, though he struggled at remembering anything, almost like the figure itself was a suffocating presence.

“I-I don’t fear you! Fear is not the Jedi way!”

”Is it? For since the moment you sat foot on this planet, I have sensed it in you, deep inside. Fear of whatever has occurred to your Order, fear of what may become of you and fear of discovery. I have sensed it, I have reveled in it, and I have tasted it in you, Jedi. Tell me your name.”

As the figure spoke, the crushing darkness returned, climaxing at the request to Tuka to reveal his name, making it feel like it wasn’t a request at all.

Struggling to keep standing, Tuka answered accordingly.

“I-ah.. M-my name i-is Tuka.. T-Tuka Tysrigian..” As soon as the words left his lips, the crushing feeling went away once more.

”Tuka? What a stupid name!”, the wraith said. ”Your mind’s eye lies open, Tuka Tysrigian, and I shall glance through it. It has been many eons since I last walked amongst the mortal plane, and I wish to see more about the current times and context for your vision.”

Without waiting for a response, the being stretched out his right hand and mimicked a downward motion, causing Tuka to collapse onto his knees against his will.

Attempting to stand back up, Tuka discovered that his body could not respond, causing the being to approach him. As it got closer and closer, Tuka could now clearly see that the outline of this creature was not solid, but instead wispy and fleeting, seemingly disappearing into the darkness only to be replaced once again. Tuka began struggling fiercer as the wraith now stood directly infront of him, looking down.

”Now, show me everything.”

The being placed his gloved and on the side of Tuka’s face, causing the Jedi to scream in agony as the wraith investigated his memory, seeing everything from Tuka’s childhood to the current situation seemingly instantaneously.

”Ah yes, your ‘clone’ troopers betrayed you.”, the wraith said. ”You fled here, in a.. stolen ship? My oh my, not very Jedi of you, is it?”

Speaking through clenched teeth, Tuka responded as best as he could.

“..S-Shut up..”

”Oh? Is the Jedi getting angry? Do you wish to strike me down before I delve too deep in your mind?”

Tuka did not respond, still attempting to break free from the hold which the being had over him. The wraith then removed its hand from Tuka’s face, stepping away from him and letting him shakily stand up.

”You have your chance now. Kill me. I know you want to, after probing your memory, your very soul.”
Tuka grabbed his sabers once more and entered a stance, reluctantly answering the creature.

“.. It’s not the Jedi way.”

The wraith chuckled.

”Ahah, yet many of the things you do, are not very Jedi either. Stealing a freighter, killing your ‘clone’ friends.. What would they say to you now?

Tuka’s eyes narrowed and he began clutching his sabers tighter almost naturally.

”Traitor, they would say. Untruthful. Coward.”, the phantasm said, pausing slightly before speaking again in a mocking tone. ”What would your parents say?”

The mention of his parents made Tuka snap. Charging forward at a brisk pace, he began swinging wildly, only for the wraith to dodge every one of them, seemingly expecting where every strike would land. Tuka’s anger only grew as he failed again and again at hitting the wraith.

”About time you unleashed your full potential. Why follow the ways of the Jedi so vehemently in your troubled times?”

“Why won’t you die! Fight me!”, said Tuka, synching up his words with more saber swings that all missed.

”You wish to fight? Fine, I shall give you a fight.”

As the wraith was speaking, Tuka sent one last blow towards it, only for the blue hue of the room to be replaced by a combination of blue from Tuka, and red from a lightsaber that the wraith had seemingly conjured from no-where as their blades collided. The wraith's blade seemed almost like the opposite of Tuka's. It's red blade fiery and crackling as opposite to the refined blade of the Padawan. as the wraith lifted its saber into the air to strike, in its form lit up more, like the flames of a fire and almost uncontained.
Instantly, Tuka was put on the back-foot as the wraith struck hard and fast, leaving little room for Tuka to respond or counter. Continuing backwards and blocking, Tuka was met by a wall that he was sure was not there before. The relentless strikes from the being eventually won over Tuka’s stamina, causing him to falter in holding up his sabers in a blocking position.

Just as Tuka was preparing for the end, a strike from the red blade did not come. Instead, the wraith’s metallic and cold hand grabbed the Jedi Padawan on the throat, lifting him up against the wall without breaking a sweat.
It seemed to examine him somewhat before speaking, and what it said sent shivers down Tuka’s spine.

”You and I are going to have so much fun together.”

At this, Tuka regained some energy and attempted to wrestle his way free, though it was fruitless as the wraith’s hand clenched harder on his throat, making him drop his lightsabers. The dark being then began speaking in a language Tuka could not understand, though the voice was overwhelming and all-encompassing, seemingly filling the entire room, but not, at the same time. Tuka could then feel the hand around his neck begin to fill with warmth, but not the good kind of warmth. Still struggling, Tuka also noticed that the wispy parts of the wraith also seemed to increase, almost the entirety of its figure now had become wispy. Then, the darkness began moving towards Tuka.
He screamed as he felt it pierce his body and soul, entering through his nose, eyes and ears.
As darkness began filling his eyes and his eyelids began to feel heavy, he heard one last thing from the wraith.

”And now, we are one.

Then, Tuka blacked out.

---

Breathing quickly, Tuka’s eyes opened and were met with a blinding light. Groaning, the Padawan closed his eyes again and slowly sat up from the ground that he sat on. Looking around, he realized that he now was outside, and very close by the base, seeing it a short distance away from where he now stood, though he did not remember walking there.

“What the kriff.. I have a giant headache..”

”Are you really this stupid? Have the Jedi taught you nothing of me?”

Once again, the voice and wraith returned.

“Y-you! What did you do to me?”, Tuka said, drawing his lightsabers again, which he now saw attached to his belt.

”Again, are you stupid or braindead? Perhaps both? Do you not know of whom you speak of, Padawan?”

“I have no idea who you are!”

”Have the Jedi forgotten about their most terrible foe of all?, the wraith said, and slowly lifted up its arms as a way of showing off. ”I am the Sith-King of Ang’Mar! Scourge of the Jedi, Outcast of Korriban, Dominator of the Oddessites, Dark Sorceror! Does it ring a bell?”


Tuka could only stand dumbfounded, for he had never heard of a ‘Sith-King’ before, nor of any of the other titles this ‘Sith-King’ bore.

”Your confusion is laid bare for me, vessel. You will learn of my name in time, once you are fully able and willing to aid me after I have displayed my power!”

“You will answer my questions, or I will tell the others of you, and whatever you have done to me shall be undone!”

Laughing the Sith-King answered in a mocking tone.


”You fool! If what I believe has occurred, none of your party would have ever heard of me! Nor can they see me, for I am now part of your soul, your very being, Jedi. You and I are one, but you cannot harm me, and I cannot harm you.”

Tuka could only answer with more confusion.

“What?”

”Ugh, this chat of ours tires my, vessel. I retreat now, deep into your consciousness, but know that I will be waiting for you to embrace me, no, embrace us. I know of what you fear, and only my power will save you. Dwell on this, scum. Goodbye for now. I shall be watching.” The wraith then promptly vanished, seemingly dissolving in the wind, leaving Tuka alone with his thoughts. Staring down at his hands, Tuka opened and closed them while contemplating.

“What have I become?”

Sighing, the Jedi Padawan began walking back towards the base, deciding whether or not to tell the others of what he had discovered and what had occurred to him in that dark cave.

[Okayanos]

The Attack on Brighthome: Epilogue 1

Three Months Ago

Dramatis Personae
Xez Kraid, Mandalorian Bounty Hunter
Kroawbaesa, Wookiee Bounty Hunter
Trecort, Junker Bounty Hunter
Meikai, Gen'dai Assassin

---

Nar Shaddaa
The Drunken Kowakian

It hadn't taken long for Meikai to pick up the trail of the bounty hunters that had raided Brighthome and made off with the information. One hyperspace trail, a quick calculation by Copilot to posit where they would likely be going, and Meikai had found himself docking on Nar Shaddaa. Now, the tricky part was narrowing it down to where specifically in the massive ecumenopolis those bounty hunters were. Nar Shaddaa was, after all, a world-city that was almost entirely composed of bounty hunters and other criminals. Meikai had visited once or twice before, and had found it somewhat overwhelming. Nevertheless, as he engaged his landing gear and touched down at the docks, he resolved to find them before the trail went cold. Disappointing his boss was not something that Meikai was keen on doing, and even better - bounty hunters often put up a fight when challenged. Stepping off of the Mangetsu Rift he was almost immediately greeted by a hunched over near-human, their species indeterminable, who spoke in a rasping growl.

"Need her cleaned and fueled?"

Meikai elected not to respond, simply slapping a handful of credits in the man's hand and looking down at him. He knew how much it was to dock, and Meikai ensured to pay more. The last thing he wanted was to come back to the Rift and see it was stripped for parts. Extra credits ensured that was less likely to happen. The man nodded, agreeing to their unspoken and unwritten contract, before hobbling off and barking orders in a different language to a cleaning crew sitting by some plates. Pulling out his datapad, he thumbed through what little information he could glean off of the two departing ships he had identified as his quarry. The Inglorious and the Wrath One, docked not far away, were the ships belonging to whomever he was hunting. Setting off, he scanned the streets, and elected that it would be best if he visited the neighborhood watering hole: the Drunken Kowakian. After all, if you want to find a criminal, check the cantina.

---

"Once we're done with the jedi, I'm going to make it a personal vendetta to track down that intelligence agent," Trecort crackled through his vocalizer.

He had run a cable from the data drive to his cybernetics, letting them sift through the mountain of information while putting his fusion Welder to work repairing his wrist blaster.

"He sounds impressive, you should get a worthy hunt from him." Kroawbaesa rumbled through drinks. He was used to drinking alcoholic beverages that were too strong for humans, such as Thikkiian Brandy, so the bounty hunter had accumulated a rather large collection of empty cups.

Once he finished the drink in hand Kroawbaesa signaled for the bartender to give him another, "Tell me, where is our first target?"

"Numidian Prime," Trecort said, with a few final sparks from the welder. "A master Pongo; the log of his personal ship's transponder was backed up on Brighthome's computers. Can't know for sure where he touched down, but it is a half decent start. Accessing his records, standby."

The Wookiee chuckled, a master Jedi was the greatest target he has hunted so far. "There would be no sport if we knew exactly where he was, tracking your quarry is part of the hunt." Kroawbaesa felt his heart start to pound at thought of stalking a Jedi. The excitement made him remember his days on Kashyyyk as a wookling, hunting even the smallest creature used to bring him this feeling. The last time he felt it was when he hunted the Trandoshans. He never forgot their faces. It was Kroawbaesa's first hunt as a real Wookiee warrior and his last. Before the emotions got to him, Kroawbaesa quickly ordered another drink to wash the sorrow away before he regressed into self-pity.

Xez was a late entry to the bounty hunters' drinking party, having to make arrangements for the Wrath One to receive fast repairs while he was on Nar Shaddaa. It then took him another while to find out which of the planet's many bars had a Wookiee and a Junker walk through the doors together. The Drunken Kowakian was at least slightly classier than most of Nar Shaddaa's local dives. A holographic sign of a cartoonish Kowakian Monkey-Lizard sitting atop the shoulders of an attractive Twi'lek drew him right to it. The Mandalorian idly noted a sign claiming live music inside, and his ears were most certainly greeted with a catchy tune as he entered the establishment. The lighting was dim, except for a spotlight on the performers, an all-Bith group. Xez's helmet visor scanned over the crowds, settling first on a towering armored figure with a hefty axe strapped across its back before finding the walking carpet and mostly-droid hunters he'd worked with before.

The Mandalorian turned heads as he strode over to them, sliding into their booth beside Trecort. "So?" He asked, the single word being sufficent enough to communicate his query.

"Jedi master Pongo Daferrilis," Trecort reiterated for the newcomer, holding up his left palm. The integrated holoprojector glowed to life, displaying an image of the jedi. "354 Coruscant-years old, trained and knighted at the Bogden Jedi Chapter House, on Bogden 3. Master of various padawans throughout his life, including Jin-Roh Dokaan and Kendro Sei. Skilled in Forms IV and II. His teachings heavily emphasizing a bond with nature and love for all living things. There's a couple of sayings and a number of notes about caring for the birds and riding animals kept at the Bogden temple. Not the most exciting read," Trecort summarized.

"Doesn't look like much." Xez replied. The squat, furry creature in the hologram certainly didn't look like a fighter. Xez couldn't even picture it holding a lightsaber. "More of a scholar than a warrior."

It didn't take long for Meikai to hear exactly what he was listening for. A group, across the bar, was talking about a Jedi. They listed off some of his traits, but Meikai was already moving across the bar. He stopped short of their table, taking in the sight: a Mandalorian, a droid, and a Wookiee. Sweeping his gaze across them, he spoke, his voice a low tone.

"You have something I want."

Trecort clicked off the projector at the newcomer's announcement. "I assume mathematics aren't your strongsuit."

Xez stood from the table as a veritable titan of armor and weaponry- the same one that had caught his eye as he'd entered the bar- spoke to the hunting team. He found the giant's appearance intriguing, a kind of weaponized armor similar to his own, yet completely different from Mandalorian design philosophy. "And I assume you're not talking about our drinks."

"The data. From Brighthome." Meikai spoke, not making any move towards his weapons, but he slowly formulated a strategy as he waited for their reply. He looked down on two of the creatures, but the Wookiee was his equal in height. He assumed they didn't know that he was a Gen'Dai, but he would save that surprise for later. After all, he at least wanted a fair fight if he was going to send souls to the blood gods today.

Kroawbaesa stood up to face the tall armored man face to face. He looked him up and down, trying to work what species lay behind the mask. The Wookiee came to the conclusion that he didn't know what this armored behemoth was. Kroawbaesa will need to test this things strength during the seemingly inevitable fight. "The data is ours. I suggest hunting for yourself instead of stealing the spoils of others."

"No." Came the simple reply from Meikai. There was nothing else to be said, but the word resounded around the bar as his gauntleted hand tightened into a fist. The bar slowly cleared a small space around the four bounty hunters. A bar fight wasn't uncommon on Nar Shaddaa, but giving adequate space was always required. And frankly, Meikai needed a fair amount of room.

"The wookiee said the data's ours. Unless you're willing to fight over it." Xez's hand went to the grip of his DL-18 blaster pistol. The tension in the air was a tangible thing now, and it was looking more and more like this would devolve into a four-person brawl. The Mandalorian was almost excited by it.

"Mm," muttered Meikai, giving a terse nod. In one fluid motion, he reached back and ignited his Energy Axe with a crackle, swinging it around him in a wide arc in an effort to create several feet of space between him and the other bounty hunters. With his other hand, he tugged his RSKF-44 from his hip holster, firing a heavy bolt at the Mandalorian from nearly point blank range.

The humming energy blade swept past the three hunters, not striking them, but forcing all three of them back into their booth, putting space between them and Meikai. As Xez stumbled, a shot from Meikai's blaster caught him square in the beskar. Though it lacked the power to penetrate his armor, the sheer punch of the shot was enough to send Xez backward, knocking him backward into Trecort.

Kroawbaesa was the first to act after being pushed back as the other hunters had hit each other. The best course of action was make sure his partners could move before this titan could. Kroawbaesa charged the armored adversary and went low, grabbing his legs. Using the famous Wookiee strength, Kroawbaesa hoisted him up and slammed Meikai on the ground.

Meikai did not expect the Wookiee to make the first move, and smashed onto the floor of the cantina with surprising force. His weight nearly cracked the fragile panels beneath him. With as much speed as he could, he swung his legs up to try and wrap them around the furry beast's waist, only to have them batted away. Reacting as quickly as he could, he pointed his blaster up at the creature and fired a shot at its chest, only to have it clip its shoulder.

Unfortunate," Trecort hummed as the violence erupted.

After ripping out the cable link and pushing Xez up to a standing position, Trecort grabbed the data drave and contorted, vaulting backwards over the booth to the next one along the wall. With mechanical precision he began to flank, taking long, almost floating strides from table to table. Raising his right arm, Trecort opened fire with his newly repaired blaster, taking any opening where he wouldn't hit Kroawbaesa.

Meikai nearly immediately reacted to the impact of blaster bolts against his armor, quickly tapping a button on his wrist that activated his jetboots. With a sputtering roar and two small flames, he rocketed out from underneath the Wookiee and turned towards the source of the blaster fire. Spinning in the air, switching off his jetboots, and dropping both his feet towards the droid, he found himself knocked aside by whatever precision guided the mechanical creature. Landing hard on one foot, he spun and looked around. The fight was not going in his favor, necessarily, but now they were back in a neutral position. His axe was laying on the ground next to the Wookiee, his blaster had four more shots before he needed to vent heat, the droid had the data, and the other two he was fairly confident he could best. Now, it was getting interesting.

Xez regained his footing as Trecort pushed him back up. He drew his vibroblade from its sheath, the weapon buzzing with energy as it powered up. The Mandalorian's jetpack flared up as he lunged towards their giant enemy with lethal intent- only to receive a kick to the chin from the Gen'dai's long legs. Xez was sent whirling back, flipping through the air and landing hard on his stomach.

"Cease hostilities," Trecort hummed, holding the data drive and holding his wrist blaster up to it. "Recent actions have proven I am superior in reactionary speed. Any more moves and I will render the data unsalvageable."

"I will remove your limbs and bring your body to my master for data salvaging if you do," Meikai growled, probably the most words he had strung together in months. Long weeks in the jungle tracking a kill will render you quiet as the grave.

"That would be a waste of effort. No data can be salvaged from an organic mind."

"You do not know my master."

"The folly is yours to make," Trecort hummed, waiting for the first sign of hostile action. "It is time we take our leave. One wrong move and I expunge the data," he said, taking a step back.

"I know what your companion's heartbeats sound like. If you leave, I will hunt you. That is a folly for you to make."

“This is insane.” Xez grunted as he rose to his feet. “Why fight us if we’re after the same enemy?” The seeming offer of an alliance was strange, coming from a Mandalorian, but he had reason. In the time of the Great Mandalorian Wars, his people had united under one banner, under one way, tossing aside all of the squabbles between their many clans. That, and if this heartbeat-sensing giant was what he suspected it was, then none of the three hunters would be capable of killing it.

"You want to ally with this thug?" Kraowabesa roared at his Mandalorian partner. The Wookiee couldn't believe they didn't just kill this nuisance and be done with it.

"The shortest one's heartbeat is accelerating. I think he knows what I am. And what I can do." Meikai growled, setting his gaze on the Mandalorian.

Xez’s helmet visor turned to the angered Wookiee, braver than most would be if they had to face one down. “This thug knows Teras Kasi, or something similar to it. He’s a Jedi killer.”

"I am trained to kill many things. Jedi, Mandalorians, wookiees, droids," Meikai said, sliding a glance over the three, "And enjoy doing so. But I can be persuaded to negotiate terms."

"25% of the bounty’s as high as we go. You pay for ship repairs and gear out of pocket. We take down the Jedi as a team instead of fighting each other. No one gets hindered, everyone gets the rewards.” Mandalorian diplomacy was an extremely simple art.

"I do not care about the bounty. I want the data."

“Why?” Xez asked. The trio’s desire for the data was obviously so that they could start cashing in Jedi bounties- he figured that anyone interested in it would be the same.

"500,000 credits can buy you the data if you're that interested, droid," Trecort hummed back, a nerve having been hit.

Kroawbaesa could not believe what he was hearing. He needed the data for more than just getting credits. It gave him a chance of gaining his honor back, or so he thought. "You will not give away that data! I must kill a Jedi!" The Wookiee roared. These hunters were pushing Kroawbaesa's anger was nearing his limit before he did something drastic.

"Data can be copied, don't worry friend," Trecort says, eyes still fixed on the newcomer. "A quick decision would be expedient, data hunter. I grow impatient and hunger."

"If the lives of your companions are worth 500,000 credits, fine," Meikai said, eyes fixed on the humming red-eyed one, "But like I said. I can, and will, hunt you and kill you unless I get the data on even terms. If you don't enjoy my negotiation tactics, you can certainly speak to my employer."

"Even terms were abandoned with your barbaric greeting. The way I see it, the fact you've ceased flailing around like an injured rathtar shows you've realized you don't hold the cards. So fold: pay up or crawl back to your 'employer' lest I contact ours." Trecort replied.

"I would say my 'barbaric' greeting was proof enough that we should speak on even terms. You expect to fight that Jedi and win? The three of you?" Meikai said, ushering forth what could loosely be called a laugh, "Your Mandalorian will be feeling sore in his jaw for several days, and I can expect that blaster wound on the Wookiee will take some time to heal. I would say I proved myself an asset you can use, for a fair trade. I don't care about the money, I just want to kill Jedi."

"My my, how the bold meeken. What I remember is what I can only assume was an attack meant for me being thrown aside. And then you turned down such a nice offer from our Mandalorian friend. Very well, I'll alter his deal. You work for free, I'll release some of the data for each jedi you help us bring down."

"Does he speak for you two?" Meikai asked the other two sitting at the table, who had been silent, "Are you as...uninformed?"

“Uninformed?” Xez asked.

"I can only assume you're not an idiot. Put the pieces together, Mandalorian. A Teras Kasi user who can sense heartbeats. Who in the galaxy knows Teras Kasi well enough to teach it? Who in the galaxy can sense heartbeats?" Meikai replied, tossing a datapad onto the table. Reading it revealed Meikai's file, what he has done, including his Jedi kills. Each one, the record shows no bounty taken.

“...” Xez was silent. He’d abandoned Death Watch before they had joined forces with that outsider, the crimson-and-black skinned alien that possessed supernatural powers. And the rumors that he’d picked up from other true Children of the Watch, about what the red one was doing, and what he had hired- “Gen’Dai.” Xez finally spoke, piercing through the silence. “You’re Crimson Dawn’s Gen’Dai assassin.”\

"Mm," Meikai muttered, waving at the Datapad, "And this is my record. 8 Jedi kills. Five Knights, three Padawans. Only thing I'm missing is a Master. And Crimson Dawn wants the data. You want my help, I get the data. If you're worthwhile, I'm certain that far better contracts than what you're used to will come your way."

Kroawbaesa had to admit, 8 Jedi kills was respectful. The idea of better contracts and hunts were very appealing to the Wookiee. "Your offer is appealing, Gen'Dai. But assassinations bring me no honor."

"I do not speak Shyriwook," Meikai stated flatly, looking at one of the two companions for translation.

“He likes your offer, but isn’t interested in being an assassin for Crimson Dawn. I’m inclined to agree with him.” Xez translated- albeit with some liberties taken.

"Assassin is not an accurate term. Enforcer would be more proper. If you like fair fights, the Crimson Dawn is more than happy to oblige."

"Enforcer or assassin, the name makes no difference. It is sportless, honorless murder, only for the gain of wealth." Kroawbaesa lied to himself so he could see what he did as different. He gained honor with each kill. He must gain honor. He worked for Hutts and Cartels, but for the Empire. Surely there was honor in helping the government. There had to be some honor left inside Kroawbaesa, some small and broken remnant of the hero he had once been.

Meikai shrugged, indifferent. "Suit yourself, I care little for who you work for, so long as we come to terms with the idea that I get the copied data if I help you with this Jedi."

"We're in agreement on that. But it's likely going to be more than one Jedi we go after. I don't imagine that'll dissuade you." Xez crossed his arms, already sizing Meikai up against a Jedi in his mind.

"The issue, that I'm not surprised you haven't pieced together, is that lone Master Pongo isn't worth 500,000 credits. I'll give you ten percent of the data after Pongo is dead and we collect our bounty. With further installments coming with subsequent jedi." Said Trecort.

Meikai narrowed his eyes underneath his helmet. Now they were getting somewhere. “Twenty percent, negotiable dependent on my...performance.”

"Twenty," Trecort nodded, "With you remaining responsible for your own expenses."

"I have alternate funding," Meikai said, nodding and looking around the table, "Now, let's go kill a Jedi."

---

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Odessen

Martius knelt within the quarters of the former Alliance Commander, which for the last 3 months had served as his home, and entered into a deep meditative state. In truth, the room looked less like a home and more like a small library, as datapads and starcharts were piled up and strewn about the place while Martius combed through them, looking for safe havens and reading on the defeats of Empires past in the hopes of finding a way to bring down the latest Empire to threaten the Galaxy. For now though, he took a break from those studies to meditate; hoping both to clear his mind and to search for more possible survivors; though that task became more and more difficult with each passing day as the shroud of the dark side grew ever stronger to fill the void left by the lost Jedi.

Today while meditating however, Martius sensed a dark presence more powerful and much closer than the usual; a cause for grave concern if they had been discovered by an adept of the Dark Side. Localizing the presence as best he could, Martius then ceased his meditation and quickly made his way to the Command Center to try and find the dark presence. No signs of technology showed up on scanners, but he did note the presence of a cave on a planetary map which might be able to conceal one's presence from scans. Given there was no sign of anyone approaching the planet or landing, Martius considered the possibility that this cave was simply a vergence in the dark side; one perhaps of many light and dark vergences given the strength and balance of the Force on Odessen.

In either case, Martius felt it worth checking out, and after leaving Nard a brief message letting his fellow Master know he was heading out for awhile and saving the location of the cave in the Command Center for his Wookiee compatriot in the event he ran into trouble, Martius gathered some supplies and set off into the Odessen forest...

[Flarbinia]

CR70 Charger "Taurus"
"Three months." Ruhr Draay said to the training droids as they ignited their Lightsabers, blue and green blades being produced. "Three months since Order 66. Three months since me abandoned me on Vjun." Ruhr said to the training droids as they charged at him, igniting his own Lightsaber and swinging his blade, slicing through four of them with a single strike. "Three months since that Bothan bastard defected to the Separatist holdouts. Three months since he has been coordinating their attacks against the Empire." Ruhr said as he hacked away at the training droids, changing his stance from Schii-Cho to Djem So as the Training Droids switched from Niman To Ataru. "Three Months of being one step behind him. Three months of travelling in this rust bucket." Ruhr said to the training droids as he blocked a strike from one of them and quickly followed it up with a decapitating strike. "Three months of hacking my way through his troops, only to find out that he had flown the coop by the time I arrived. Three months of killing my replacements, only five of whom proved to be a challenge." Ruhr Draay said as he made a diagonal strike, a training droid falling lifelessly to the floor. "The Zygerrian on Oovo IV. The Skakoan on Telos. The Karkarodon over Duro. The Chiss on Nal Hutta. That damned Gen'Dai on Dxun." Ruhr Droid said to the remaining training droids as he swung at them, slicing through them as he listed the names of those the Padawans he slew during his hunt for Thor Fey'lir. "Three months of being denied my revenge." Ruhr said to himself as he extinguished his Lightsaber blade.

[Sao Nova Europa]

Mayor Johnson was walking up and down in his office, nervously cracking his fingers and awkwardly smiling. ‘This can’t be happening! This will be a financial disaster! This will be-‘

His trail of thought was cut off by the sudden loud sound of bombers flying above the settlement. Johnson instinctively hid below his desk. It took him a few moments to realize that those bombers were headed towards the jungle and weren’t going to bomb him or the settlement. The scars of the Clone Wars were still very much alive in such places.

The bombers dropped their bombs at the lush jungle. The deafening explosions created a series of fireballs engulfing trees, turning the sea of green into a horror show of fire and smoke. The fire was spreading rapidly. Great masses of dense smoke were driven upward and forward through the jungle.

Witnessing the bombardment was Darth Vader and a squadron of elite Clone troopers. They were standing just before the jungle, at a safe distance from the explosions. Many of the Clones were equipped with flamethrowers to cut through the lush vegetation.

Vader was silent as the ground shook and smoke filled the sky. Only his mechanical breathing could be heard. Suddenly, his holographic device ringed.

“Lord Vader,” Captain Heinrich said, “our bombardment was a success. You may proceed to the jungle.”

“Understood,” Vader nonchalantly replied. He turned off the hologram device and turned to the commander of the clone squadron. “Follow me.”

“Yes, sir!” the commander roared affirmatively.

Vader and his men marched through the swath of burning trees. The smoke would have normally made it nearly impossible to see what was going on, if their helmets didn’t include enhanced vision sensors.

“Left!” Vader said. He pointed at a tree trunk.

As the clones turned to their left and aimed their rifles, someone fired from behind the trunk. One of the clones gasped as he felt a burning sensation on his chest. The laser bolt had hit him precisely, killing him. The other clones fired with their rifles rapid shots, aiming to overwhelm whoever was behind that tree trunk.

Chunks of the trunk were being blown up to pieces and the sound of laser fire was deafening. Suddenly, one of the troopers threw a plasma grenade at the tree trunk. It landed right behind it. The insurgent who had been hiding behind the trunk got up and tried to make a run, gracefully evading laser bolts coming at him, but as soon as the grenade exploded, fire engulfed everything. The grass and tree trunk were striped with blood splatter, and a deformed body lay on the ground.

“One down,” the clone commander cheered on.

Vader did not talk. Without even looking at the dead body, he continued marching forward. As they moved deeper inside the jungle, their vision was getting worse as smoke had engulfed everything.

‘I sense something…’ Vader at once froze. He waved his hand and force grabbed an insurgent who had been laying behind a tree to their right and was preparing for an ambush. The unfortunate man founded himself suddenly pulled by the might of the Force and brought before the Dark Lord. He grunted as his body was let down on the ground with force.

“Where is the Jedi?”

The insurgent gritted his teeth and attempted to make a go for his blaster. With a simple movement of his hand, though, Vader began force choking him. The insurgent felt as if an invincible hand was tightening its grip on his neck. A moment later, Vader force threw away the lifeless body.

Even without any help, Vader was confident that he would find Jenassa Artine. And so, he kept marching…

[Flarbinia]

CR70 Charger "Taurus"
The "Taurus" exited hyperspace, the CR70 Charger approaching a desert planet. Several Purge Troopers were gathered around the hologram pad as Ruhr Draay entered the room, his polished bronze Lightsaber hanging from his hip as it did when he was a Jedi. "Men, this is Nevarro. An unremarkable dust bowl on the Outer Rim." Ruhr said to his men as the hologram pad hummed to life, an orange sphere appearing. "Why are we here? Simple: there are rumors that Master Laalth" Ruhr said to his men, the hologram pad changing from a sphere to a a Selkath Jedi slicing through a battle droid with a Protosaber and using Force Push to send it flying into the other Battle Droids. "and Bultar Swan" Ruhr said as the Selkath was replaced by a Jedi still dressed in ther Clone Wars era armor. " are meeting with my former master, Thor Fey'lir." Ruhr Draay said to his men, the hologram pad showing the Bothan Jedi Master butchering Clone Troopers on one of the orbiting cities. "We are to investigate these rumors and kill or capture any Jedi we find." Ruhr Draay said to the Purge Troopers as the "Taurus" headed to the surface of Nevarro.

[The Imperial Republic]

The Arrival of Jace Tholme

Co-Post with:
Jace Tholme Luxembourg-Bavaria
Afon Ekker Audunia
Dan Brovil Okayanos
Nard Revlona
Rhys Aatahl Meikzhemy

---

After Vrudun and Inera's duel, the Zabrak Jedi remained at the hangar, meditating on the edge of the Bay's flooring. As he focused on the Force, his senses heightened as he felt the soft cool wind against his skin and the sounds of nature. He had reached peace and for a brief moment, it felt as if the Cosmic Force was reaching to him with all it's might.

Until he was interrupted by the sounds of yelling. His eyes opened slowly and he turned to face the noise. Upon inquiring on the nature of the alarm in her voice and actions, it had been realized that a new target had entered Odessen orbit, one posing as a Jedi, known as Jace Tholme. Immediately, Vrudun walked briskly to the command center.

Dan found no solace in meditation in the time following Nardrashtasch's promotion to Jedi Master. He attended lightsaber sparring only when he could match himself up against Nard or Inera, to master Form IV further- it was important to note that he rarely found himself on the winning side of said practice duels. The Wookiee and Arkanian Jedi held little back, and Dan had grown complacent fighting against blaster-armed insurgents. Not once had he matched his skill against the four-armed cyborg general, or the bald-headed assassin, or- force forbid- the Count himself. All dead, now. Dan couldn't see any possible reason to continue lightsaber training against other lightsabers. If the Jedi were killed off, who would they have left to duel? It was the base's command room where he found occasional solace. When Admiral Tane barged out, speaking of a strange transmission, he found it wise to enter. Of course, mere seconds after he did, the Zabrak Knight Vrudun marched through the center's automatic doors as well, and Dan felt inadequate in his presence.

"You heard about the ghost transmission too, huh?" Dan asked, running a gloved hand through messy black hair. It had gotten longer in the three months since Allst Prime- since Order 66. "I'll admit, I'm suspicious. Afon seems to think the same."

"I wouldn't say suspicious so much as cautious" Afon interrupted, his eyes concentrated on the hologram of the planet, the blinking red of the transmission's source reflecting off his face "Though whether I should be suspicious is yet to be proven' he added, looking up and nodding at both Dan and Vrudun.

Moving away from the main console, he went behind a second one flicking a switch and the message replayed for the new guests. Afon straightened out and folded his arms "I can't say I've heard of a Jace Tholme, then again I can't say I heard of many of the Jedi whose deaths are reported. I had hoped any Admiral Tane found might illuminate me on them, or suggest a course of action"

Suddenly, the console lit up as a new transmission came through. "Odessen Temple. Do you read me? Can't just stay up here all day." Said Jace.

"He speaks again." Dan commented, as the supposed Jedi spoke a second time. "We're going to have to say something back eventually."

“I would have done when I first heard it, yet I do not know if this it a trap or not. I doubt the Empire would be above such deception” Replied Afon.

Vrudun stood, glued to the icon that showed the Jedi in orbit, hovering. If it truly was a trap constructed by the Empire, they'd have recalled this imposter and sent a few thousand troops to find and kill or capture what was living this far outside of civilized space.

"Afon, let him land. Tell him to land in the hangar. If he is an imposter sent here for us, he would have already reported back. If he is an imposter, he won't be leaving again. Let's say we all go meet this Jedi?" He said as he began walking backwards towards the door, hoping the others would follow.

Afon paused for a moment, his finger hovered over the comms link. He shook his head and activated the comms;

“Jace Tholme, you are permitted to land. Patching coordinates through” he spoke clearly, his words catching at the end. He looked up at Dan, his voice apologetic;

“Apologies, I would’ve waited for a full consensus, but I fear stalling may risk this Jedi being exposed.” He paused for a moment, before speaking again “A2, bring the turrets online, if anything follows in after him, blast it out the sky” he ordered to the astromech before departing to follow Vrudun.

“I hope you’re right about this” he said quietly behind Vrudun as the door slid open.

The masked Padawan who had been meditating in his quarters was the next to wander in, likely drawn by a similar overhearing of words and the mention of a new arrival. He had almost bumped into the two Jedi on their way out of the command center, but Rhys thankfully stepped aside before that happened.

"Oh, forgive me," he said off-handedly, giving the knights a respectful bow of his head. "I could not help overhearing. The name sounded vaguely familiar..."

"Familiar how?" Dan asked the Miraluka who had come in. "Is he a Jedi, or did we just let the Empire land on our doorstep?"

"One of my elders by a few years at the Temple, if memory serves," he replied. "Another survivor coming out of hiding, perhaps?" Said Rhys.

Jace listened to the transmission briefly before mustering a response.

"Coordinates received. On my way."

He began to guide his freighter to the temple, tearing through the sky with all possible speed. At last safety was within reach. As he drew closer to the temple, Jace transmitted another message.

"Odessen Temple, Jedi Tholme again. I'm beginning my approach to the landing pads. Can I expect a welcome committee?"

The group had stopped halfway down the hall to question the other Padawan they'd picked up a few months back. Curious to know how this Miraluka knew of the possible threat now moving closer and closer towards this new Temple's hangar. He could hear the new transmission from this Jace Tholme echo through the hall. They needed to move and fast.

"We need to get to the Hangar. Padawan, you know this Jedi. You're coming with us." Ordered Vrudun.

Rhys was quick to obey his elder's order. Bidding Vrudun a quick nod, he quickly fell in line with the other Knights on their way to the hangar. "Hopefully his condition is well. Have any of the Masters been notified?"

"Figure that Admiral would tell them." Dan replied, as he moved to the hangar alongside the Jedi. "If not, they'll be notified when we all wind up dead from whatever's landing here. Or bring the new one to them. Whatever happens." He'd never seen a Force-induced vision of the future before, but this would've been a nice time for one, if only to calm his nerves.

Jace continued to fly his ship towards the Temple. He began to guide it into the hangar while he opened his comms again.

"Tholme here. I'm landing in the hangar now."

As the VCX-100 light freighter cruised on a straight trajectory to the hangar, the rest of the Jedi present walked through the doors. The ship's maneuvering thrusters activated, sending ancient dust and debris into the air that had been settled for so long. Vrudun flinched and squinted his eyes, holding up his hand as he tried to keep the dust from getting into his eyes. The ship was large, almost too large for the Hangar. Despite Vrudun's decision to allow him into the hangar, which was not in his power to make, considering the two Masters of this Temple were not present to oversee this newcomer, he had placed all present in danger. The ship wasn't overly armed for a freighter, but it's dual laser turret could have shredded the Temple and without the external defenses online to assist, they'd all have most likely perished. As this ship carrying a supposed Jedi set down gently into the hangar, the Zabrak knight was just now beginning to consider this. He wouldn't allow the others present to know these things, though. He simply ignited his blade and awaited the external runway to drop.

The snap-hiss of Vrudun's sapphire blade caught Dan's attention more than it should have- the sounds of lightsabers were almost a constant in the temple as the resident Jedi practiced and trained relentlessly to combat a seemingly invincible enemy. Dan couldn't recall having seen Vrudun's saber lit before. Blue was the most common blade color amongst the surviving Jedi, and he really should've been accustomed to the sight. But that particular shade... It brought him back to Allst Prime, to his sparse memories of the planet before the war, and before his training. He was there again, small and scared, staring at an alien woman with black hair and golden eyes who leaned down and offered him her hand, holding a blade of shining sky-blue plasma in the other. Dan was young enough that she was able to heft him up with one arm and carry him back to his home, away from the monster that had tried to eat him. His eyes had never left that blue light until he'd finally been returned to his family, and the alien woman had introduced herself to his mother and spoke about a mysterious force- Dan blinked, and the images of the past were gone. Only the now, the hangar with the gathering of Jedi, and Vrudun's lightsaber.

Dan drew his own weapon, snapping the hilt out to full length and igniting twin blades of a warm yellow, the same shade as mid-day sunlight. He stood ready, weight on the balls of his feet, muscles coiled and prepared to spring to action. The principles of Ataru in action. It was a more active type of stance than the Shii-cho he had formerly specialized in, and it did him some good to be able to focus on himself, on letting the Force fill his body, without dwelling on emotional hang-ups. Dan twirled his weapon once, the blades emitting a deep hum as they spun, and kept his eyes on the freighter's ramp.

The Padawan flanking the two, however, was initially hesitant. His blind gaze fixated on the freighter that began to come in for landing. Rhys had sensed something special about the ship before it even arrived, likely just as his comrades had; the Force was with whoever piloted that ship. Even as the others drew their sabers, he considered his peculiar sensing the freighter's occupant and their intentions. Maybe he was sensing something his fellow Jedi could not? Or, perhaps, it was the other way around...

Regardless, as far as safety protocols were concerned, this was definitely breaking more than enough of them. The Miraluka plucked the hilt of his weapon from his robes. Preparing for anything to start shooting, Rhys held his saber in a typical Soresu stance pointing up, and allowed its emerald green blade to spring to life.

Unlike the others, Afon took his lightsaber from where it rested on his belt but did not ignite it, though he shifted his feet, ready to jump into defensive mode in an instant.

"Hardly the nicest of welcomes" he muttered, his hand tightening in anticipation around his unlit lightsaber while reaching out with the force, trying to get a feel of the newcomer

"I'd prefer to have my saber out when whatever's in there starts shooting at us." Dan replied to the older Jedi, as his goldenrod blades illuminated his messy, unkempt appearance beneath his hood. "At this point, we should be expecting anyone we meet to hate the Jedi."

Slowly, the ramp dropped, and out walked Jace Tholme. He quickly ignited his lightsaber when he saw the welcome committee.

"Whoa there. Everyone relax, I'm a friendly."

Vrudun Tumara was the first to step forward as he examined the young man. Flowing dark brown hair, some kind of green shroud around his neck and in his hands, a glowing blue blade, standing in proper Juyo form. An imposter wouldn't have gone to those lengths to acquire a lightsaber as well as at least some training in the Jedi combat forms. He could sense a truth in him, a truth that convinced him of his role as a Jedi of his dwindling and tattered Order.

"Your arrival is quite late. It's been three months. Any out there that still call themselves Jedi are either dead, hiding, or running. Considering your not in the ground and obviously not hiding, I must ask. Were you followed?"

Dan gave his double-bladed saber another twirl, sending the yellow blades into a hypnotic spin accompanied by the low, intimidating hum of plasma. He was thankful that the blue of the new Jedi's lightsaber wasn't causing his traitorous mind to dive into memories of his master, and all of the too-complicated emotions and code-breaking feelings that came with thoughts of her. If he kept on like that, one of the Jedi here- the real ones, who obeyed the code as it was written- would find out, and what little sense of belonging he had here would be gone. Dan idly wondered, as he looked into the yellow whirling of his saber, if Master Khir- Stars, just thinking her name was doing things to him- was alive out there, hiding like this Jedi had been. The cynic in him said it was unlikely enough to be impossible. There was a cold pit of despair in him as he confronted the most probable reality. Fear is the mind-killer, fear leads to the Dark Side. Dan reminded himself. I face my fear and allow it to pass over me and through me, and I turn the inner eye to its path. When the fear is gone there will be nothing, only I will remain. He ran through the mantra in his head, instilled in him as a way to manage his emotions through his aptitude for the Control aspect of the Force. He felt the cold grip of fear move through him, and the thoughts of his master left, for now. Avoiding them in such a way would only be temporary, and Dan dreaded having to confront the unquestionable news of her death or her survival. Dan might have pondered which would frighten him more, but the fear had passed through him and left nothing. Only Dan remained.

"I've got a question." He said, finally ceasing the rotation of his saberstaff. "How do we know he's not with the Republic? There's got to be more than a couple of Jedi switching sides in the last few months."

Jace sighed and shook his head. "It's been a hard few months. Only recently did I actually get off of Saleucami. I was stuck there after my clones turned on me and I barely managed to survive the ensuing manhunt." He took a step forward and deactivated his lightsaber. "So to answer your question, no I was not followed. I was tracked to Tatooine but I destroyed my pursuers one I acquired a new ship. Only then did I make my way to Odessen."

After he spoke, Jace paused and turned to look at Dan.

"The Republic is dead. My only allegiance is to the Jedi Order. Search me in the Force, and you will see I am telling you the truth.

"It is a difficult business" Afon said calmly, his grip remaining on his unlit lightsaber "To tell between friend and foe this days. No one expected the clones to turn on us but they did. You'll have to forgive us for our caution" He placed the lightsaber hilt on his hip slowly, his eyes focusing on Jace to find any flicker of emotion that might give him away
"But I don't see how we have much choice in the matter, unless we wish to get a Master to determine Tholme's loyalty"

"By all means," Jace responded. "Go get one. I have nothing to hide."

"Padawan. Come forward." Said Vrudun, deactivating his blue blade, turning his head slightly.

“I think you’re all too trusting.” Dan grumbled, saber still lit. His force sense was clouded and blurry, countless essences all swirled together in a spiral of sensations that he lacked the words to describe. ”Too much to worry about.” he thought.

Rhys promptly deactivated his saber as well, perking up a bit at his sudden addressing. The Miraluka stepped up as ordered. "Yes?" he muttered, likely knowing what was to be asked of him.

"Can you confirm that this is the one you mentioned to us earlier?" Asked Vrudun.

The Padawan promptly turned his blind gaze to Jace, seemingly examining him. "Well, his face matches what I remember. And the aura, undeniable," Rhys glanced back to Vrudun.

"I could attempt to assess his memories myself, but," he paused, evidently disappointed in himself. "The Force...everything feels clouded..."

Dan sighed as his lightsaber finally deactivated, snapping the hilt closed again. “Well, that’s helpful. The Force has been clouded for the last three months and the only one who can tell us if we’re letting an assassin into our temple is the padawan who only sees through the Force. Just great.”

Jace shrugged and took a step forward. "Look at least one of you is a Master right? The main reason this Padawan can't access my memories is because I've used the Force to conceal my presence from other Force-users ever since I've been on the run. I let it down a little bit so he could sense my aura just now. How about I drop the concealment all together so the Masters here can sense my intentions and all that wonderful stuff?"

Afon's brow furrowed, his eyes betraying a sense of anger before he quickly smothered it, mentally playing through the old mantra he had recited a thousand times before. Instead, he crossed his arms:

"I don't like you tone, boy" he began through a tense jaw "It's as though you fail to realise the seriousness of this situation, do not act so cavalier about this security and unease. We could have left your call unanswered, so afford these protocols they deserve" he finished "However, lowering your concealment would be appreciated, in the absence of a master" he added. He glanced at Dan, also unimpressed with his attitude towards this, but did not voice it. They should present a united front to this new comer, not divided.

Dan very nearly reactivated his lightsaber when the unknown Jedi took a step towards them. And then, Afon speaks up. "You've seen the news on the holonet, haven't you? The Emperor supposedly has a black-armored monster at his service, one that can use the Force. Who's to say this one isn't something like that?"

Jace raised his hand. "Unbelievable. You've got an ally staring you right in your face and you can't even decide how to deal with him. I'll go first. I'm lowering my concealment. Sense away, I've got nothing to hide. Oh, and if you think I'm an agent of the Emperor, feel free to search my ship for a suit of black armor."

“Why don’t we all calm down, you all seem be acting like undisciplined younglings, especially you tholme,” Jedi Master Nardrashtasch said as he calmly entered the conversation. His great furry hands clasped behind his back. He recognized Jace Tholme from years before, though only fleetingly and it had taken him a second to recall the name. He wondered if the antagonistic Knight could understand him, really he wondered if any in the conversation could understand him, he needed a protocol droid he decided with a sigh he shared with himself.

At the surprise announcement from the Wookiee Jedi Master, Vrudun's guard dropped. He leaned up from his combat stance and deactivated his blade.

"Master..." He said in Shyriwook, motioning to the others for calm. Initially, Vrudun was relieved to see the Master but understood that organizing a welcome party such as this without consulting the two Masters, essentially the leaders of this enclave, wouldn't sit well with them.

“Do tell me why neither me nor Master Shan were informed that we had someone arriving until after they had arrived?” Nard said, he then turned towards Tholme and grunted out, “Translate for me,” to Vrudun. “They may be staring an ally in the face, but by the way you are currently acting, some might prefer you to be a foe so that they might get to use those drawn sabers. We have all been through much recently, do not allow such things to influence your actions” he growled

"Oh, wonderful, a Master. Maybe a little less time meditating and a little more time among us inferiors, and you wouldn't need someone to run to you every time something happens." Dan grumbled, channeling more of Master Khir's teachings than he had before. If he allowed but a moment of fantasy, he could see her grinning beside him in the way that narrowed her eyes, laughing that quiet, amused chuckle, radiating a warm and familiar presence through the Force. Dan felt a tinge of fear when he realized that, if he wasn't imagining that force presence, that Master Khir had moved on to the next life- that, he didn't like to dwell on. Fear is the mind-killer, only I will remain. The cold dread vanished as easily as it had manifested. "Really, I'm surprised you didn't hear from Admiral Tane, sense her alarm, that sort of thing."

"We Masters do more than just meditate, just like how you knights do more than fight amongst each other, at least I hope," Nard growled, his annoyance at the Knights disrespect easily shoved aside so as to keep a calm and level head. "Now if I wasn't mistaken, I was speaking to Tholme, not you," He said, turning away from the antagonistic knight and towards Tholme once more.

After the confrontation between Master Nard and Dan was finished, Vrudun nodded to the master and told Jace word-for-word what the Jedi Master had said to him.

Jace grinned a bit as Vrudun translated the Wookie's rant for him. "I apologize Master, these last months have been hard for all of us I should have known better than to fan the flames." He began walking forward. "So, what now?"

“Now, you get to join the only gathering of surviving Jedi left in the galaxy. Get comfortable, last guy who tried going off-world wound up in the holonews as a failed revolutionary, executed by the heroic efforts of the Empire.” Said Dan, sour as ever. He turned on his heel to leave the hangar, having had quite enough of dealing with Nard and the new one for now.

"Well gee thanks," Jace shot back before walking back up the ramp of his ship. "Anyone want to help my unload my supplies? I've got enough blasters in here to outfit a small army." Vrudun nodded and forward to Jace, willing to assist and examine all he had brought with him as the rest of the Jedi began to disperse.

Jace exited the ship, carrying a storage container and pushing a large hoversled. He walked back up to his ship and called back to Vrudun. "This hoversled should be able to hold all the containers. I managed to liberate these off of a crime boss during my short stay on Tatooine. Perhaps we will find a better use for them."

Vrudun nodded and grabbed the handle rails of the hoversled, not really comprehending what he just said.

When he did a few seconds later, Vrudun shook his head quickly and looked up to Jace.

"Whad'you'mean a crime boss? You better not be talking about one of the Hutts...." He said as he moved to begin offloading the supplies.

Jace laughed. "No, even I'm not stupid enough to tangle with a Hutt alone. These are from a small-time crime boss who had muscled his way into grabbing a large shipment of arms and munitions. I saw fit to borrow them for future." He walked down his ship and joined Vrudun in pushing the hoversled down the ramp. Jace spoke again to Vrudun as his ship's ramp began to close. "Well, that's enough for now. Let's take this to your armory and then see what our next move should be.

[The Anarcho-Syndicalist Commune]

Inera Atala, Entropy's Promise

The hologram pulled up a map of the galaxy, displaying two borders. Well versed in Archeaology as she was, Inera recognized the borders as those from the days of the Great Galactic War. Master Lokarn began to speak "I was born in the opening fires of the Great War, on an outer rim planet I never learned the name of. I didn't spend much time there of course, my family fled shortly after I was born to the core worlds in order to avoid the sith onslaught. I was brought with them, and quickly found to be force sensitive. At the age of three I was given to the Jedi Order, who raised me to be a warrior. I was not particularly gifted in the force, but I took to my lessons well. I even managed to see some combat before the Sith blew Corsucant to oblivion. Then, peace came. For me and a whole other generation of Jedi, it was a hard pill to swallow."

Inera nodded and asked calmly "I assume you struggled with the transition?"

Urania shook her head before replying "I adjusted... better than some others. We all struggled in our own way, but the cold war that followed eventually provided us with enough outlets for our energy. I took up the task of recovering jedi relics stolen during the destruction of Coruscant. This meant a lot of time undercover, which began to affect me more than I could tell."

Inera nodded. "I know the feeling."

"War has shaped you as it shaped me. Too much time in isolation with your thoughts is dangerous when the sound of cannons still roars through them. I learned this the hard way on Nar Shadda, when I met a young bounty hunter by the name of Baro Kyliss. He was dashing, clever, and had a presence to him that most non-force users lacked. And more importantly, I met him first when he saved his life. Combine that with my weakened mental state from isolation, and needless to say I fell head over heels for him. This was my greatest mistake as a Jedi."

Inera hid her disdain from the holocron. She knew all too well the feeling of love, but she had fallen for it's lies as a padawan, not as a full knight. Inera asked mildly scornfully "I assume that it ended in tragedy based upon the way you describe it."

"Yes, but not in the way you might expect." replied the hologram, "I denied my feelings for him for some time. Still, it was mutually benefitial for us to travel together, and so we did. He assisted me in the tracking of force artifacts and provided me with a voice of reason in my mindlessness from time to time. He helped build me back up from the mess the war had made me. Eventually, we picked up the trail of a powerful sith holocron. I knew that I couldn't allow the Empire to get it's hands on such an artifact, it would prove disastrous on far too many levels. And so with reckless abandon, I dove deep into enemy space."

"I wonder how that went."

"I think you can guess that answer. The whole time, Baro seemingly tried to turn me back, but the danger posed by this artifact was too great to ignore. I followed it's trail to Tatooine, where I found the remnants of an ancient sith temple. Baro and I faced many dangers within, traps set by the ancient sith to pray upon my fears and hatreds, attempting to turn me to dark side. I resisted, and within the deepest part of the temple, I uncovered the Holocron of Darth Slayn, which contained within it many notes on the use of the force to turn life energy into a usable resource. Securing it, I left the temple with Baro hoping to deliver the artifact to the Jedi Order. I... underestimated the strength of the artifact now in my possession."

Inera felt her heart twinge a bit at the mention of a sith holocron being responsible for a jedi's fall. With a mournful look on her face, Inera nodded and said "A story all too common even to this day."

The hologram seemed to share in Inera's mourning for a second before continuing "As we began our journey back to republic space, I found myself giving into my desires towards Baro, which he reciprocated. Before long I was head over heels for him, and fearing reprisal for our love, I took him and fled deeper into Empire space. My mind was addled, and I did not see how I was being manipulated by both the holocron, and my love. As we traveled and hid, I soon discovered that I was pregnant. Baro mentioned that he had contacts that could help me deliver the child. Like a fool, I followed him. He took me to Dromuund Kaas, the Sith capitol. By this point my mind was so fragmented that I believed it to be Coruscant."

"A dark world, through and through." muttered Inera.

"You've been?"

"A handful of times, it was recently rediscovered and as both a commando leader and one with extensive archaeological experience, I was chosen to lead a set of recon ops missions onto the world to determine it's general safety for further archaeological research. I hated every second I was on that cursed planet."

"As I would learn to do. I was directed into the private hospital of one Lord Nyloth. We had met once before, though I scarcely remembered it. During the war, I had been briefly captured by the imperials who had done some physical tests on me. Before anything else could happen however, I had been freed by my compatriots. Nyloth had been the apprentice of the sith who had conducted those tests and this was the dark conclusion of his work. Baro was no bounty hunter, but a member of Imperial Intelligence specifically chosen to manipulate me. It had been determined that both of us had enough sith ancestry that any progeny that resulted would likely be a sith pureblood, and Nyloth believed that by examining this child's genetic codes, he could determine which genes triggered the manifestation of pureblooded traits, and therefore promote them throughout the Empire."

Inera spat on the ground. "His evil is... sickening to say the least."

"Indeed. As I went into delivery, Nyloth revealed this information to me, which broke whatever remained of my mind. Before my memory became truly fuzzy, I delivered. Twins in fact. One a girl, with human features, the other a boy with the red skin of a sith. Past that, I cannot say. My mind slowly began to rebuild itself, and in time I became aware that I had been placed among the slave camps on the Sith Capitol, nothing too intense, but where Nyloth could keep an eye on me in case he had further use. It took years, but slowly, away from the eyes of my captors, I put the pieces of my psyche back together enough to form a plan. At the time, Nyloth had an apprentice of a similar build to me. She was a Miraluka who kept her face veiled at all times. One day, when her master sent her to ensure I was still in one piece, I struck. It took nearly all of my effort, but I overpowered her. Taking her cloths and her lightsaber, I snuck my way off planet, and returned to the republic.

The Jedi gave me reprieve, and I spent the remainder of the Cold War putting my head into a place where I could have control of myself again. Soon enough however, war struck again. Nyloth, now bearing the title of Darth, began a bold spree of kidnapping's across Republic worlds, no doubt a part of his plans. I knew then it was my destiny to stop him, and so I set out once more. World after world, I would meet and force Nyloth to free. In the shadows however, he trained two new apprentices. My children, being turned into weapons to fulfill Nyloth's plans and stop me. It would appear however, that they had other plans. My son, who I had never known, slew Nyloth and took his position shortly before the invasion of the Eternal Empire, taking the title of Darth Malister. With his sister as his apprentice, he soon began a far more efficient and targeted version of his master's plans. Before I could stop him however, the Eternals invaded.

That is how I found myself on Odessen, where I presume you found this holocron. It was here that I once more met my children, though now we were forced into an unsteady alliance. They were... monsters. My son, Malister, was no more than the epitome of the Sith philosophy, an all dominating pure blood. My Daughter was his blade, willing and able to strike down any who opposed them. It was in the face of this horror that I recorded this holocron, the first of a set I plan to create. Here in lies my failures, laid plain, so that others will not make my mistakes."

Inera was sitting a little straighter. It was a story of terror. The Sith of Master Lokarn's time were animals beyond even the one vanquished by Master Kenobi years ago. Inera shut the holocron down. She needed to think on the story before she probed any further.

[United Islands of Polis]

In the Aftermath at Brighthome

As Republic forces reclaimed the space station once belonging to the now defunct Jedi Order, Captain Cross couldn't help but sigh and curse as the two remaining ARC-170s reported that the last ship had successfully jumped away. Without the additional fighter and ship armament support of the Negotiator or the defense array of Brighthome Station, the loss of an entire garrison would, at least for the moment, go unpunished. As Cross made his way to the Archives through the Great Hall, a squad of nine were already stacking on the wall as the station was beginning to bustle with clone troopers, a few working on the fried control panel for Station Control, some collecting the bodies of their fallen brothers, others simply standing guard by doors or initiating patrol patterns across Brighthome. Walking a foot behind the Captain were two more troopers, their weapons pointed right at the door, in case the occupant were to suddenly change his mind on awaiting possible arrest at the hands of the new Imperial Army.

With his dual DC-17 hand blasters ready, he stopped right in front of the closed door, a trooper to the right with his hand on the panel, ready to press the button. Cross took a deep breath and nodded to him.

With the press of a button, the door wooshed open and within miliseconds, the clone squad rushed in, weapons raised, spreading out to secure the moderately sized copy of the Library in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Not long after the clones' entry, Captain Cross shuffled in.

As the door opened Cornelius hobbled his way to a railing. He slung the Westar - M5 and aimed it haphazardly. It was difficult to move after all with scorch marks and holes in your body. Seeing the clones and who he presumed was Captain Cross, he gave a sigh of relief and annoyance. He slumped down and audibly put the rifle back down.

"Second floor, captain. Are the bounty hunters dead?" Cornelius yelled from above as he continued to self-medicate himself.

Cross and his troopers rose their blasters at the sight of one of their brothers, wearing what appeared to be ARC armor. For a moment, he was relieved. One survived to explain his story and get a good visual on who had attacked an Imperial outpost. Their pictures and ship descriptions would be known halfway across the Galaxy by tonight. Then, his relief was replaced with disappointment, confusion and a bit of anger.

He wasn't a clone at all. The voice was all wrong. Cross and three troopers approached the wounded man who slumped down in defeat, looking up at the Captain. Cross had lowered and holstered his blasters, though the others were adamant in keeping theirs leveled at his head.

"You must be that Intelligence officer. Looks like you've had it rough." Cross said with a bit of sarcasm lodged into his words. Before the agent could respond, Cross turned to his troopers.

"Take his weapons and get him to the infirmary. You're under arrest until we can confirm who you really are." Cross said.

"Yeah that's me, I think I'd prefer to face an E-Web instead of a fully kitted Mandalorian." Cornelius ignored the sarcasm in the statement.

They disarmed him of his weapons right after that. At least they didn't tell him to strip naked. The body glove was the one thing keeping him from bleeding out. That and the treatment he gave himself.

"Careful with the M5, thing gives off static like hell since Annaxes." Cornelius pointed out as a clone grabbed his carbine.

"Oh and be careful with that one too, it has an acidic package." Cornelius handed to a clone his Dissuader KD-30.

To help the clones he decided to stand up himself, causing some of them to flinch. He laughed internally at the sight. "Calm down you took all the guns I have on me already."

As Cross watched the supposed agent stand to his feet, he realized that perhaps his injuries weren't as bad as the man made them out to be. As Mors spoke, Cross let out a single chuckle and stepped forward to him.

"Don't worry, boys. This man's clearly a fan of ours. Real clone armor. I guess they'll hand this stuff out to just anybody." He said as he stared into the Black and red Phase 2 helmet. Cross lifted his hands quickly and pulled the helmet off of his head, revealing the man's sweat caked hair. "Nice helmet. If I didn't know any better, you could have fooled me as a full fledged ARC Trooper." He said as he inspected the helmet's vac-seal, visor and auditory sensors. He looked up from Mors's helmet and reached out to give it back to him.

Cornelius got the helmet and attached it to his utility belt, the other hand still grasping the wounded side of his body. He could stand but when it came to walking he'd have to hold onto the hand rails. He could feel his left leg weakening slightly. If he needed there were some combat stims in his Personal Aid Kits he could use.

"Well it's the perks of an intelligence agent I suppose. R.I. wanted us to use them since they were better than PDF gear and we had to work with you boys on the front. It helped in not becoming a prime target." Cornelius explained.

"Did you have to cut through the doors? All the doors open from here lead to the hangar where the bounty hunters landed, I think." He looked at the door that had an evident burn mark from the flash grenade trap.

"Yeah, we're still cutting through 'em. Don't worry about what we're doing. You get to the infirmary. Troopers, make sure he doesn't get lost on the way there." He said.

"Captain. We've gained access to Control. You'll want to see this, sir." Said another clone, his helmet resting by his waist, his face filled with tattoos. The Captain looked back to Mors.

"I'll be there to meet you later."

"If it's something I can know I'd like to know." Cornelius said as he followed the clones to the infirmary.

They had to walk a considerable distance towards the infirmary, to their dismay the door to it was locked as well. There was a collective groan of disdain. One clone grabbed a fusion cutter and began cutting the door.

"Try the panel instead, chief. Maybe we don't have to cut through a three inch door." Cornelius said with impatience as the motivator for finding an alternative.

Without speaking the other clone began to mess about with the panel. First pressing buttons to get it to restart , eventually he ripped out th panel and hot-wired the door to open. If the door took longer to open, Cornelius would have taken the DC-17 on the hip of the clone and shoot the panel. As they entered he leaned towards a wall.

It was an infirmary but much more luxurious, fitting of a Jedi. Cornelius leaned on a wall, clutching the blaster hole on his body as he accidentally moved the wrong way and shot pain through his body.

"Alright gentlemen, what next." He asked the clones.

"You get on the table and we let this droid take a look at you." Said one of the two clones, known as Rass. Rass stepped over to the deactivated 2-1B-series medical droid, painted brown and white to resemble the robed colors of a Jedi, either an attempt to comfort wounded Jedi with something familiar, or a blatant joke by some Knight who enjoyed a good laugh.

The droid's yellow eyes lit up as it began to move. As a part of it's programming, it approached the wounded Agent and began to scan and analyze. "Multiple blaster burns detected. Armor seems to have taken most of the lethal impact, except for one, center mass in the chest cavity. This wound requires immediate attention. Please remove your armor." Said the medical droid. The two clone troopers took up guard positions on both sides of the door, their blasters lowered to their waist.

Cornelius got on the table and as the droid began it diagnostic run on him. Afterwards it had stated that the may immediate wound was the one on his chest. He couldn't have agreed more. Being asked to remove his armor, Cornelius decided to hit the emergency release latches. With a popping sound the chest piece fell to the floor with a thud.

"How long until the wound will heal properly?" Cornelius asked in a flat tone.

Whole waiting for the droid to give a time frame, he thought that perhaps some for chatter could do. "Every clone has a name, what are yours?"

Brighthome Control

Captain Cross approached the door to Control, guarded by two troopers, who yanked themselves to attention at the sight of their commanding officer. Following the Captain was the same trooper that informed him of the entry to Control, the one room that ensured complete control to the station. He entered the room, eyeing two clones who were staring down at control panels and info-screens.

"Alright, I'm here. What'd'you wanna show me?" Said Cross to the clone behind him. The helmeted clone nodded and walked past, interfacing with the main command console. The screens changed twice before images of the silhouettes of the mercenary vessels appeared.

"When those bounty hunters entered Brighthome orbit, the computer scanned and registered these vessels. Sir, we know who these attackers are." Cross was now completely interested. He walked over to the console and lifted his helmet from his head. "Make a copy of this data and get it to the Negotiator right away. We'll teach that filth that this Empire will not be so easily slighted."

Cross looked to the clone nearest to the communications terminal.

"Get me a direct line to Admiral Block. It's time he about this supposed agent."

Concurrently....

Brighthome Infirmary

"With the bacta spray, you can be back to 100% as soon as one week. Rest is required. My scans indicate your body is under immense stress." Said the droid, coldly.

The two clones standing by the door looked at one another and shrugged. "Rass." He said pointing to himself.

"Beater." Said the other.

Cornelius laughed at the assessment of the medical droid. Normally he had won engagements against multiple aggressors, droid or otherwise. But the engagement awhile so was certainly special. One he would see rectified next time via lethal force. No more mistakes.

"Immense stress is an understatement. I'm glad to know I won't have to be submerged in a tank." Cornelius replied back, the undertone of thanks evident in the reply.

The two clone guards have given a response. Meaning they didn't outright hate him completely unlike his team's first few weeks on Umbara. He would never understand why the clones seemed to detest the presence of non-clone combat units. Shouldn't they at least be happy to see that there are other people willing to sacrifice their lives for the Republic, now Empire? It was none of his concern for now anyway.

"Rass, Beater, tell me. Do you have your own hobbies?" Cornelius asked while awaiting the arrival of Captain Cross.

"That's not quite proper protocol, sir. We don't even know if his story about being here is gonna hold-" Cross was interrupted by the Admiral holding up one hand and closing it, his expression of tired annoyance making it clear that the officer would expect the clone to follow this order without his usual backtalk.

"The order has been given. I don't like it any more than you do but I'm not willing to throw myself into a firefight with these people over this. Get him patched up and release him and I expect you all to forget he was even there." Before Cross could even mutter out a response, the blue silhouette of the older Admiral faded away. Cross sighed and smashed his fist into the control board. "Damn it." He said, using his left hand to slide his helmet back on. Cross departed Control and made his way to the Infirmary.

---

"Well, it was turning clankas into scrap. Now, doesn't look like we have any hobbies besides looking after posers...." Said Rass. He knew the agent would probably take offense to it, but it didn't matter to him. He had brothers that earned the right to wear that armor, brothers that sacrificed themselves for the greater good. In the clone's mind, Mors hadn't even come close to earning even a trainee's drill armor.

"And traitors to the Republic." Added Beater. Rass turned his head to his brother. "Empire." Said Rass, correcting his statement.

"Right. Empire. Just doesn't have the same ring to it. Glory to the Republic or For the Republic! That inspired courage. For the Empire? Don't think I'll ever get used to that."

Cornelius looked the photocopy right in the eye. The sheer amount of anger rising, preparing to show and bear down on this trooper who he most likely outranked. Until he laughed. A good hearty laugh. Back on his first time in the Phase II armor on Umbara he had come to blows many times with the troopers of both the 501st and 212th until they earned their respect. But now he just laughs off insults. He really didn't care.

"Oh, oh dear dear, that was a good one, Rass. Poser, damn, what a simple word. I've been called imposter, distortion, disgusting, etc. I think my personal favorite was distorted image. Poser, now that's new." Cornelius counted with his fingers until the sudden movement of the laugh caused the chest wound to hurt, lying back down.

"Mm, that's true. Imperial Intelligence just doesn't roll off the tongue like Republic Intlligence. Imperial Guard maybe, but that doesn't sound right for my organization and it's nature. " Cornelius commented on the change.

"Well we're going to have to, maybe we could make one up? Some point in time one of us will. Speaking of traitors, did you have any of those force wielding scum attached to your fleet?" Cornelius asked, riding the new trend of the GAR.

The two clones looked over at one another over the question Mors asked. Rass answered first. "Yeah, we had a couple of 'em." Said Rass, almost reluctant to tell the story.

"We were over New Plympto, providing relief for General Jennir's division. Our Division was under the command of General Nisala and Commander Tann. General Nisala was easy. She was on her way down to the surface with a pair of our flyboys. Heard that her fighter went up in flames before she even knew what was happening. It was the Padawan that gave us the most trouble. Little twi'lek traitor." Said Beater.

"Could have ended her fast. I was in the squad responsible for executing her in her quarters. She must have gotten tipped somehow and took off. We locked down the ship but she kept evading our squads. She led us on a game of cat and mouse for about an hour. Killed, what was it, Beater? Ten? Eleven of our brothers?" Asked Rass.

"Eleven."

"Yeah. We finally cornered her in the hangar, trying to get to her starfighter. Gunship took it out and forced her back to the cruiser's fore docking bays. Cross joined us, then. Instructed us to avoid kill shots, to go for the legs or disarm her. But damn, was she deadly. I'll never forget that lightsaber, that green blade twirling away. You think Jedi in battle are scary? You should have seen this one. Scared, confused. It was almost like she didn't know why. But she knew. She knew why. Finally got her down, got that lightsaber away from her and held her down but even still. That Force, or whatever power those Jedi have, it's a hell of a thing. Saw Maze get thrown back thirty feet just from the girl lifting her hand. Once we got her secured, the Captain came right up to her, knelt down and put a blaster right to her head." There was a moment of silence as he thought back to what had happened aboard the Negotiator. Beater looked down a bit and the aura changed.

"And that was it. We were ordered back to Coruscant." Said Rass.

"I never said it, but I never trusted the Jedi. They were told to be our commanders, sure, and we followed their orders to the letter. But try to overthrow the Chancellor? Destroy the Senate? Power goes to everyone's heads, eventually. Looks like the Jedi were no different. And they paid the price." Said Beater.

"Yeah that's why we tend to make our targets feel like they have an escape route so that they don't go all out. It's a classic trick, or so I was told." Cornelius commented.

In reality he felt incredibly sickened at such cruelty, or was it at the personal vendetta against their Jedi commanders that they killed a child in such a manner? He would never know. Any targets they killed were done in a quick and orderly way. Yet again, force using targets did always make the job harder and more difficult.

"Yeah I was surprised too. I've worked with them before and they don't seem like they wanted power. I guess treason comes from those closest to you huh?" Cornelius added in, the statement obviously something he doubted but he kept that to himself.

"I just feel bad for those Jedi kids, padawans? Yeah them, could've been re-educated in light of the new Empire. A bit tragic isn't it?" Cornelius said candidly as he let his thoughts roam.

As the two clones listened to the agent's words, Beater looked down to the floor or as far down as his helmet would allow before it pressed against his chestplate. The phase two helmet hid much from Mors and for good reason. Beater looked over to Rass then quickly back down to the floor.

"Y-yeah. It was.....we...."

Beater was quickly interrupted by Rass.

"We followed our orders. The Jedi were traitors, no matter their age." Said Rass coldly.

The door to the Infirmary slid open with a hiss, revealing Captain Cross. The two clones stiffened up and returned to their guard positions. As the Captain walked in, the Captain stiffened up his posture and placed both his hands behind his back.

"You're free to go, Agent. You must have friends in high places."

He could hear and feel the regret in Beater's reply before being cut off by Rass. It's like the two complemented each other. One was soft and the other hard. It was amusing.

"You clones are the same person, and yet, different people. Interesting really. What happened happened, no use milling over it." Cornelius concluded the segment.

He was about to try and open up another topic until Captain Cross came in, the mood changing to a blank, disciplinary one. He brought relatively good news.

"Ah, that must be Director Pereira. Very wary of his agents. You don't want to check my codes or anything, captain?" Cornelius asked as he stood up, a crutch in his right hand and his fallen chest piece on his left.

"To be honest, the Admiral told me everything I needed to know. Your wounds'll heal and your shuttle's fueled up. Just get outta here." Said Cross with a hint of annoyance and frustration.

"And my weapons, captain? Are they back on my ship or do I have to go get them somewhere?" Cornelius asked as he began to hobble away into the hallway.

"Already on the ship. Had the troopers take them to it after we got them." Replied Captain Cross as they made their way through the Great Hall from the Infirmary.

Cornelius stopped for a moment and went back into the infirmary, they weren't too far yet from the infirmary luckily.

"Troopers Beater, Rass, thank you for the chat." Cornelius said and then left.

"Now I'm no force user, captain, but your statement seemed frustrated. Are there any questions you wanted to ask me?" Cornelius asked as they walked down the Great Hall to the hangar.

The two troopers had walked out of the Infirmary, standing by the door. Rass and Beater both nodded but remained silent in the presence of their commanding officer.

Cross kind of chuckled at the comment the agent had made.

"None whatsoever, sir." Said Cross, hinting at the proper respect to give a field agent of the Intelligence service, though throwing a bit of that classic Cross sarcasm on it.

As the two neared the shuttle Cornelius had arrived on, the Captain did stop him.

"One thing. You going after the bastards that killed my brothers?"

"No need to call me sir, captain. You clearly outrank me. But I'm going to have to ask you to cut the sarcasm, it's a bit clear after a few chats." Cornelius replied back, respectfully but sternly.

"One thing at a time, captain. Initially I was on free roaming duties to hunt down the scum, thus how I ended up here. Now I have to return to Coruscant for re-assignment. Anyone specific you want me to watch out for?" He asked as he continued towards the shuttle.

"Just make those bounty hunters pay. Wherever they are." Said Cross as he turned to walk away.

"No promises, but they won't see it coming." Cornelius smiled as he closed the shuttle door.

He placed his chestpiece underneath his cot, it shouldn't move around too much. The medical droid had given him some stimulants and vitamins for the trip to ensure that nothing too bad would happen. Director Pereira would probably stick him in a bacta tank to make the one week healing time a few days, plus any additional therapeutic regiments for injuries. Cornelius always hated the bacta tank, it was generally weird to him.

Getting onto the main pilot's seat, he pushed button and it raised him up to the cockpit. Putting his helmet back on he switched the HUD back to the Aviation setting. He started the engines and waved at the clones and Captain Cross as a sign of good will. Eventually being clear of the station, he imputed the coordinate of Coruscant, it was easy since it was designated as the Galactic Center, it was just a bunch of zeroes. Seeing all was well, he put th throttle past maximum and saw the stars turn to lines.

[Flarbinia]

Nevarro
The "Taurus" near a valley, the Purge Troopers surprised by the lack of blaster fire, explosions, and roaring engines. "Don't tense up. My former Master has used up every fighter he could spare for his attacks and due to Nevarro being low priority at best, he naturally does. Considering that there is no Separatist presence on the planet, he either didn't expect the Empire to crash his party or has his elite troops in easily concealed ambush positions near the LZ. Half of you will stay at the LZ to secure the perimeter while the rest will head with me." Ruhr Draay said to the Purge Troopers as they left the "Taurus", the Inquisitorial force splitting up before heading towards the valley, weapons are the ready. After a couple of hours, they arrived, only stopping when they saw two blue blades and three green ones ignited, the whirring hum of Lightsabers filling the air as the Purge Troopers opened fire, the rumors confirmed. The Jedi responded by charging at the Purge Troopers, blocking their blasts with their Lightsabers before getting within striking distance, swinging their blades at the Purge Troops, cutting down most of them before Ruhr ignited his own Lightsaber. He charged into the fray, immediately engaging Laath. Being a Schii-Cho specialist, the Selkath attempted to disarm his opponent with a single strike, only for it to be blocked by Ruhr Draay, who immediately followed up by tilting his blade and with a single strike, slicing off the Laath's hand, the Protosaber disconnecting from the power pack, the blade being extinguished. Ruhr then knocked out Laath with a well timed kick before blocking a Form IV strike from Bultar Swan, the female Jedi following this up with a flurry of stikes. Finding this tiresome, the Inquisitor used the force to push her into a nearby rock, knocking her out. He then turned his attention to Thor Fey'lir and his former Master's new apprentice, a Chagrian with half of one of his top horns missing, Lightsaber in each hand. "We can take him together, Master." The Chagrian said to Thor as they finished off the rest of the Purge Troopers in the valley. "No, Tol-Loki. Ruhr was my failure. One I shall correct." Thor Fey'lir said to his Apprentice before bracing himself for a charge. Full of rage, Ruhr Draay charged at Thor, swinging his blade at his former Master, the Bothan blocking the blow with Tutaminis before pushing back his former apprentice with the force and counterattacking with his Lightsaber. This pattern continued for a few minutes until Thor Fey'lir switched from Niman to Ataru, a move that Ruhr had expected. The Inquisitor blocked the flurry of fierce attacks before counterattacking, forcing his master on the defensive. After a few seconds, he disarmed his former master with a well timed strike and followed it up by performing the Sarlacc Sweep, ending a three month long manhunt with a single blow. "My former Master is dead and his remaining forces are leaderless. Now that I have my revenge, I am going to give one chance: surrender and join the Inquisition or face me in battle and die like the replacements he abandoned." Ruhr said to Tol-Loki, the Chagrin's expression turning from rage to shock at the realization that if he and Ruhr had died, Master Thor Fey'lir would have just replaced him as soon as he could find someone to replace him, extinguishing his blades and letting his Lightsabers fall to the ground.

[San Har Jasta]

Two months after Order 66

The Devil’s on the loose
Imdaar

Once the Triumph came out of hyperspace Brutus got his first good look at their target planet, Imdaar. “Take us in for a landing, Double.”

“Landing, sir?” The question popped up behind Brutus from his second in command, Captain Hernwick, who had a questioning expression on his face as he looked up from his datapad.

“Yes, Captain. Staying in orbit doesn’t seem like an option,” Brutus gestured to what was left of the Valor, the Acclamator-class capital ship assigned to the 143rd Airborne Division and, formerly, the Jedi Nuvani Khir. “Better find some armor, Captain.”

“Armor? Commander, I am a naval officer, graduate of the Former Republic Navy Academy- not exactly infantry material.” Said Hernwick, incredulous.

“Correct me if I’m wrong, but Navy officers are issued a blaster, yes?” Brutus asked, knowing the answer.

“Yes.” Hernwick responded, sounding as though it caused him pain.

“And receive combat training?”

“Yes. Sir-“

“Then I’ll see you on the surface.” Brutus responded.

“Is this a strategic move or do you merely wish to torture me?” Hernwick said, with his attitude coming out in full effect.

Brutus paused for a second as he thought the question over. “Having everyone on the ground will give us the best shot at ending this traitor. If anyone in the 143rd is alive, they’ll most likely need medical assistance, and last I read, a mudball of a planet is not as effective as a medbay.”

“I’ll make preparations for landing, Commander.”

“Thank you, Captain.” Brutus said back, meaning it. Having his second in command would be very helpful. He didn’t want his Captain to die, just rough him up a bit. Hernwick said no response but gave a salute and walked to the armory.

---

Surface of Imdaar

Brutus stepped out of the Triumph and scanned the mud pit in front of him. It reminded him of a worse Allst Prime. The 411th was running out, already knowing their orders, Hernwick trailed behind the Commander in Imperial Officer battle armor. They had landed near the remaining 143rd after seeing one of their flares shoot up as they’d entered the atmosphere. More clones than Brutus would’ve liked were being taken into the Triumph for medical attention. In front of Brutus strode CC-5187, Commander Viper of the 143rd. Viper wore the standard airborne trooper armor, with the addition of a commander’s kama and brown unit markings.

“Can’t say how glad I am to see you here, 6264. It’s Brutus, right?” Viper asked, only the smallest hint of cheerful emotion creeping into his voice. He and Brutus clasped hands, connected by the bonds of brotherhood that all Clones felt, even with other troopers they’d never met before.

“Yes, what’s your situation, Commander? How did this lone traitor take down your ship? And why have you never called reinforcements?” Brutus asked back, getting straight to business. He was here to kill a Jedi, even if clones were the only people he cared to talk too, he had orders. Brutus was also disappointed in the 143rd’s performance, but was instantly reminded of his own failure on Allst Prime.

“Situation’s bad. The General- former General- sabotaged our communications after escaping from our initial attempt to neutralize her. The Valor sustained a number of sporadic attacks that left her in a sorry state. Apparently, General Khir loaded droid-piloted freighters with explosives and set them on a collision course. First time I’ve ever seen a Jedi use suicide bombing as a tactic.” Despite Viper’s joking, he didn’t sound like he wanted to laugh. “Our Acclamator’s in no state to land, and we weren’t exactly set up to stay on the surface long-term. Truth be told, I was almost ready to start pillaging from locals.”

Should’ve started the raids Brutus thought to himself. He felt some respect towards the Jedi for her resourcefulness, but now that the 411th and the 143rd were both hunting her, she’d need to be more than resourceful to survive. “I’ve ordered my men to take your sick and wounded into the medbay on our capital ship. You and the 143rd should rest, we start our hunt tomorrow.” Brutus told the other Commander. The Jedi shouldn’t last more than a week, he thought.

---

Two weeks later

Brutus had grown too familiar with mud in the last two weeks. He was sitting in a makeshift shelter that the Last Batch and a select few members of the 143rd had put up deep in the jungle, towards the last seen location of the Jedi. His boots were caked in mud, everything tasted like mud, and everything smelled like mud. Cleaning his armor seemed pointless at this point, but his weapons had be clean for maximum efficiency when the Jedi was caught. He sat on the ground, leaning against a log, wiping dirt from his DC-15A. Brutus’ electrohammer was leaned up next to him, already cleaned up, and to the other side of him sat the Last Batch’s lieutenant, CT-9051 or ‘Teach’.

They hadn’t seen the Jedi during the last two weeks, only following a trail of what she left behind. Brutus left Viper at his ship to watch over it, thinking he had seen enough of mud and the seemingly endless jungle. Brutus knew that the Jedi was out there, either running like her coward apprentice or preparing to go on the offensive. As if she read his thoughts, Brutus heard a scream and the sound of a tree falling down.

“Come on men! She’s here! Don’t let her escape, and remember, we take no prisoners!” Brutus shouted to his purge troopers and clone troopers, who began fanning out. His blood boiled at the thought of the Jedi, so close and unaware of what was coming for her.

---

Jedi Knight Nuvani Khir
Imdaar

Nuvani felt another life snuff out as she brought a tree down on one of the troopers she’d formerly commanded, one of the sharpened branches piercing through his torso. The Cathar had become accustomed to the sensation of another being dying ever since the 143rd- her faithful, loyal unit- had turned on her. Nuvani suspected that the bond she’d had to the soldiers had made the betrayal sting all the more, and that in turn drove her to be so ruthless in her counterattack.

She drew herself into the Force, cloaking her presence from sight and sense, moving through undergrowth and mud as though she were a phantom. Nuvani went still as she felt the pulse of another clone, approaching her position. Her back pressed against the muddy trunk of a Poothtiys tree, as she willed herself invisible. The white armor of a clone trooper, wearing the brown unit markings of the 143rd Airborne Division.

She felt a sharp jolt of fear from the trooper as she sprung, wrapping her arm tight around his neck. The Clone’s harsh gasps reached her, and Nuvani believed she could hear a myriad of curses levied against her and her order. She felt a strange sort of sadness when the Living Force flowed from the trooper into her perceptions, and found the feeling familiar. CT-8008, Nuvani thought glumly. A soldier who had served with distinction in many campaigns, with never a foul word to say about anybody. A telekinetic grasp pulled her saber from her belt, and she ended 8008’s suffering in an instant as the sky-blue blade ignited through his chest in a flash. Whatever had happened when that blasted Order had gone to the clones, it had made them shadows of the men they once were.

CT-8008 let out a pained, gurgling cry as he fell to the muddy ground, absent of all life. Nuvani heard another Clone yelling, echoing through the treetops, swearing to make her suffer for what she’d done. She wondered if she might deserve it.

---

Brutus heard the cry of CT-8008 and ran to his position. Bursting through the trees, he caught a glimpse of the clone's attacker. She was a Cathar, with lighter-colored fur than most others. She dressed lighter than most Jedi, probably better than heavy robes in the mud. He could see her yellow eyes glance at him before her short silhouette disappeared. “She got Jugs!” Brutus cried to the other clones within earshot. He started opening fire in the direction he’s seen her flee. “I’ve been looking forward to this, General Khir!” Brutus yelled.

---

Sapphire blaster bolts cast light against the trees and shrubbery as Nuvani retreated further into the concealment that the Force offered her. She pulled from it, gifting herself with speed and endurance beyond even what a Cathar naturally possessed. Nuvani ducked through the mud, leaping over a low stump and landing in a fast roll. The mud covered her, sticking in her fur and dirtying her clothes. Thoughts of Dan rushed through her mind unbidden, of how she’d first appeared to him on Allst Prime, saving him from those fanatics. Her padawan’s dear savior looked and felt nothing like she had then.

The movements of the troopers were speeding up and their searching becoming more accurate. Nuvani’s heart raced as she sensed, then saw a squad of four ahead of her. Three wearing the armor of the 143rd, one… different. The fourth stood at the head of the team, covered from head to toe in armor as black as the night sky. The black trooper’s shoulder plates bore the symbol of the Republic, though it was altered in subtle ways that Nuvani couldn’t quite pick out. His helmet was similar to those of her own airborne troopers, but in the same black as the rest of him. And that red visor… it was clearly meant to intimidate, and Nuvani could feel it succeeding as the black trooper’s gaze swept over the forest and over her. Fear is the mind-killer, and fear leads to the dark side. I face my fear and allow it to pass over me and through me, and I turn the inner eye to its path. When the fear is gone there will be nothing, and only I will remain. The mantra she’d taught to her padawan, that she’d learned during her own training, came to her almost automatically. While Nuvani had certainly drifted into dark thoughts during her one-cathar war against the clone troopers, she had used the wise words to remain in full control of her emotions. As the Sabermaster Kendro Sei had once said, to feel emotion is not dark, but to let it rule you leads down that road. True mastery of the force came not from denying emotion, but from ruling it rather than being ruled by it.

Nuvani hoped that was true, and that she was indeed capable of ruling her own emotions, because she’d need that force mastery to deal with the troopers. She drew the force from herself, losing her precious invisibility. Instead, she reached through it, feeling the polished plasteel armor that covered one of the 143rd troopers, the one closest to her. Nuvani tightened her grip in the force, and pulled the trooper towards herself as she emerged from her cover and from her invisibility, drawing her lightsaber in a smooth motion. Only one of its two blades lit, slashing the pulled trooper with a deep cut across his chest the second he came within range. Had she performed the technique against any other enemy, she would’ve felt a sense of smugness over all of the stuffy lightsaber instructors who claimed that her beloved Form VI ‘wasn’t suitable for true combat’. But as she extinguished another spark of life, she felt only hollowness as the face behind the helmet came to her mind. CT-3224. Which would mean that the next closest trooper of the 143rd would be… 3225. The ‘number siblings’, they’d called themselves.

The Force told Nuvani that CT-3225 was bringing his rifle to bear before the clone even began the process. Her lightsaber’s second blade sprung forth in a flare of blue light as she sprinted towards 3225, whirling her weapon about with the perfect timing to slice the trooper’s rifle in two before he could aim it at her. As one of her weapon’s blades cut the rifle, the other came around to slice through the clone’s chest armor, leaving a deep, smoldering cut behind. The number siblings, killed within seconds of each other. It’s how they would have liked it, it’s how it was meant to be. Nuvani told herself, in an effort to remain as composed as a Jedi should be.

The third airborne trooper- third of her unit- was quicker on the draw than 3225 had been. He leveled his DC-15A toward her, managing to squeeze out a barrage of blaster fire. Nuvani’s lightsaber spun like a turbofan, batting the incoming bolts aside. The black trooper was now fully locked onto her, drawing some kind of weapon from his back. Nuvani breathed a silent apology to the 143rd trooper shooting at her, extending her hand towards him. She caught the incoming blaster bolts against her skin, drawing on the art of Tutaminis to absorb and take in the harmful energy. Her extended hand shifted, and the trooper- CT-1892- clutched at his throat as she drew on the force. Nuvani didn’t waste time letting the trooper gasp, crushing his throat as quickly and painlessly as the Force would permit.

When 1892 crumpled into a lifeless heap, Nuvani was left only with the one in black armor. She angled her saber at the black trooper, forward blade pointed towards him. A Makashi opening stance with a saberstaff would have been unthinkable to the traditionalists of the temple, but part of truly mastering Niman was pulling elements from every form, combining them into a sum greater than its parts. The black-armored trooper had finally drawn his own weapons, a pair of batons with arcs of violet electricity dancing around the tips. He chuckled, low and dangerous, twirling one of his weapons in hand and assuming a fighting stance that resembled contemporary Jar’Kai.

“All alone, all alone.” The trooper taunted, slowly beginning to circle Nuvani. She matched his pace in the opposite direction, the two of them now revolving around each other. She kept her saber up, forward point towards her adversary. He was large, and brimming with anger. It would give him strength when they fought, but that could be used against him. The trooper was clearly an aggressive fighter, as evidenced by his choice of weaponry. She could take him, if she could force him onto the defensive, where he’d be weaker.

The Great purge

Nuvani surged forward into a Makashi lunge, deactivating her saber’s back blade as she did. The tip of her blade pointed towards the trooper’s heart, but was stopped short by one of his electrobatons. His defense spoke true to the Jar’Kai roots of his combat training, locking up her weapon with one of his own, and using his other to swipe at her. The electrobaton came low, aiming to take her legs out from under her. Nuvani leapt over the weapon, spinning over it and freeing her saber’s blade as she did. She continued the momentum of the spin, slashing horizontally at the black trooper. Once more, the electrobaton interrupted her saber. Nuvani was counting on it, and re-ignited her saber’s second blade. She followed up her first slash with a second, sweeping in from the opposite side. The trooper raised his baton to defend once more, receiving the blow along his weapon’s flat side.

“Yes, try to resist.” The black trooper growled, shoving her lightsaber blade away and swinging both batons at her, one after the other. Nuvani dropped low, arcs of violet lightning just barely avoiding her mud-coated hair. She kicked out at his armored legs, sweeping one aside and drawing on the force to push harder than she could physically. The trooper toppled, landing on his back in the muddy ground, but he wasn’t quite phased. Nuvani thrust one of her saber blades downward, towards his head, but the trooper managed to roll himself out of the way. He struck out with a back-handed bash, catching her in the side of the head with his baton’s pommel. Nuvani staggered, tripping into the mud herself.

She pushed herself to her knees, just in time to see the black trooper looming over her, baton raised high to bring down against her skull. Nuvani lashed out with the Force, blasting him away into a tree. What her telekinetic flailing lacked in control, it made up for with power- she was quite certain that a weaker being would have their spine broken. But whatever that black armor was made of, it was sturdy stuff. The trooper landed on one foot, dropping to a knee. Nuvani charged him again, twirling her dualsaber into another arcing slash, meeting the trooper’s baton once more. She continued the rapid, aggressive assault in true Ataru fashion, every strike from her weapon flowing into another, the dual blue blades almost seeming to be little more than streaks.

The trooper’s defense was solid, though a toll was clearly being taken on him. One of her attacks struck a glancing blow across his vambrace, and Nuvani noted with some alarm that, while the armor was orange and heated for a time, her blade had not penetrated through. Nowhere near the durability of Phrik or beskar, but stronger than normal clone armor. Nuvani’s next strike was caught by the trooper’s baton once more, and he managed to get his other one locked against her second blade. With her fast-paced attack temporarily halted, the trooper could finally push back- and he did, forcing Nuvani back as he shoved her, breaking their blade lock and swiping with each baton in turn, short but powerful swings that struck against her defense.

Forced into a retreat, Nuvani played more evasively than the black trooper had when she’d been the aggressor. His blows were strong and precise, but he had a certain rhythm that he was falling into. Nuvani could recall a lesson taught by her master, one that she’d passed down to her own padawan. “Don’t rely fully on standard attacks, use the unorthodox. Niman is about mixing and matching techniques, always keep your enemy guessing.” Master Faolinn told her, as his green-bladed lightsaber was little more than a blur of energy clashing against her own. Faolinn’s face faded into the black helm and glowing red visor of the trooper as she caught both batons against her saber’s blades, locking their weapons together once more.

Nuvani heeded her master’s teachings- and her own- to use the unorthodox, finding one of her weapon’s activation switches and flicking it off and back on swiftly. The blue plasma blade vanished for less than a second, but that was enough for the trooper to stumble under his own strength as one of his batons suddenly had nothing resisting it. Her blade reignited as she swung across his helm, cutting a gouge into the black plasteel. The crimson visor was struck open, and she could see one brown eye glaring back at her behind the mask, surrounded by freshly burned flesh. Her strike had wounded him, but nothing more.

Nuvani didn’t let her window of opportunity go to waste, drawing on old Ataru training as she leaped up, wrapping her legs around the trooper’s head. She was smaller and lighter than her opponent, and so she performed an acrobatic, spinning scissor takedown, using the combination of her weight and his own to whip the trooper down onto the ground. Trying to keep him pinned would be a waste of valuable time and energy. Nuvani whirled to her knees, dualsaber spinning above her head. This time, the trooper was too dazed and exhausted to roll himself aside, and the saber’s blue blade pierced through his helmet as Nuvani brought it downward.

She felt the clone’s life leave him, and for a moment lost the strength to stand. It felt like an eternity as Nuvani knelt there in the mud, lightsaber blade impaled through the trooper’s helm, blood running down the side of her head from where she’d caught a baton to the skull, matting her hair and fur down. She stood with herculean effort, finding her footing and steadying herself with reserves of strength she didn’t know existed, and let out a breath she didn’t remember holding. Her lightsaber blades vanished with a quiet sound, and for a long moment, Nuvani was still and silent.

Then she turned, and saw another black-armored trooper. This one wore a standard Phase 2 helmet with a shark-toothed maw painted on, and wore a red pauldron and waist-cape over his armor. More imminently important was the massive, axe-like weapon he held, which crackled with the same purple electricity as the first black trooper’s paired batons. He looked even stronger than the first, and felt even angrier in the Force. This was the one who’d called her by name, and had fired through the brush as she’d fled. This was Dan’s formerly assigned Clone Officer, judging by that helmet design. This one was Brutus.

---

The First of the Last

Brutus gripped his electrohammer tightly. He had watched Nuvani kill Door. “This is the last chance you have to make peace with your force, Jedi. You’re about to become one with it.” Brutus snarled. She wouldn’t kill any more of his brothers. Brutus would personally see to that.

Brutus ran at Nuvani with his hammer up, ready for an overhead strike once he got close. Before he got the chance to swing down on the small Jedi, he felt himself get thrown to the side. His body crashed into a tree- luckily his armor was able to take most of the impact, but his electrohammer was lost from his grasp. Brutus quickly got up and smiled, Use your force all you want, Jedi. It won’t save you from me. Before the Commander could grab his hammer, he heard the activation of a lightsaber and quickly turned. The Cathar was already next to him, in the motion of stabbing with her saber. Brutus instinctively raised his arms up to block his face and felt the heat of the saber against his vambraces. He turned his body to get the saber off his arms, and yelled in pain as the blue blade burned his arm through his armor.

Brutus retaliated, catching the Jedi off guard with a quick left hook to her head and he used this momentum to kick her back. The force of his kick had managed to disarm the Jedi of her weapon. Brutus didn’t let up and kept his unarmed assault going strong, using a mix of jabs and knees. Nuvani’s reflexes were too fast and she was dodging or blocking most of his blows, but during the assault he had noticed an injury on her head. Brutus aimed an elbow for the wound and the blow landed, sending her back.

---

Nuvani saw black spots in her vision as a fresh jolt of pain shot through her head. The schutta had gone right for her wound the second he’d spotted it. She grit her teeth, drawing on the Force to help endure the throbbing, and retaliated with a jab under Brutus’ armpit, right in the soft bit without armor to protect it. The trooper growled, driving an uppercut into Nuvani’s gut. The blow was enough to expel all air from her lungs. Nuvani endured it through the force once more, and trapped Brutus’ arm, then used her free hand to aim a knife hand strike at the trooper’s exposed neck. She caught him square in the throat, earning a pained gargle from Brutus as they both broke away from each other.

Nuvani reached out with the force, pulling her lightsaber back to her hand, just as Brutus darted for his Electrohammer. The blue plasma blades sprung from the hilt, twirling about and slicing toward Brutus, only to meet the Phrik shaft of his hammer. He was larger and stronger, and with a weapon like that, Nuvani wouldn’t have any chance of beating him in a blade lock. She slipped to one side, letting the heavy hammer fall as she sidestepped. Nuvani swung at him, but Brutus was just as quick as the first black trooper when it came to bringing his weapon up to block her. If anything, he was even faster.

Brutus’ counterattack was vicious, swinging the electrohammer in a wide arc. The violet electricity surrounding the weapon cast a harsh heat against the back of Nuvani’s neck as she ducked low under the swing. She struck upward with her rear blade, but the hammer was already coming around again in another swing, batting the lightsaber aside easily with its sheer bulk. Brutus hefted his electrohammer up over his head, bringing a brutal overhead swing down towards the Jedi- but Nuvani was fast, rolling backwards up to her feet as the electrohammer crashed down in front of her.

Use the unorthodox. She remembered. Nuvani reached out through the force, clutching at Brutus’ armor and finding her focus on his helmet. It was loose enough that, if she pulled at it just right with the Force- The helm detached from the rest of the armor with a faint click, flying into Nuvani’s hand. Brutus’ face was exposed to the Imdaar air for the first time, and in the fraction of a second that their eyes met, Nuvani could tell that the Clone was in bad shape. Brutus’ beard and hair were both wild and grown, and his left eye was stuck in a permanent squint thanks to the angry looking scar over it. Angry was the first word that Nuvani could think of to describe him over all. Brutus’ face moved like he wanted to scream something at her, but whatever it would’ve been died on his lips as Nuvani smashed the clone’s own helmet into his face, as hard as she could swing it. The crack it made was sickening, and the glimpse she caught of Brutus’ face after swinging showed a bloody, broken nose and an angry looking bruise.

Nuvani tossed the helmet aside, following up the face smash with a single-handed slash that saw the rear blade of her weapon extinguish, striking with it like a standard lightsaber. Brutus turned as the swing came in, taking the slash across his back. Sparks flew off of the trooper’s armor as the lightsaber left a heated orange gash behind, but Brutus was not hindered by the pain- if anything, it seemed to enrage him, and the rage gave him power. Brutus advanced with his hammer, the incoming assault feral, but experienced. Nuvani sprung her second blade out again, meeting the incoming hammer with twirling deflections meant to redirect the weapon’s force rather than absorbing it straight-on.

She meant to tire him, to use what little reserves of energy she had to make him expend his. But perhaps she’d underestimated how deep Brutus’ rage ran, or how far he was willing to go to end her. Nuvani batted the electrohammer aside once again, sending the heavy head into the ground where it embedded itself. She began to whirl her dualsaber around to strike at Brutus while he was vulnerable- but the wind was knocked out of her as the trooper barreled into her in a full-body tackle, wrapping one of his arms around her midsection. Brutus was larger and stronger than she was, and Nuvani found herself slammed down into the mud in short order. Her head throbbed from the impact, with a particular stinging coming from where she’d bled only a few moments before.

Nuvani attempted to bring her saber to bear, but one of Brutus’ large hands closed around her wrist and tightened, until she let out a cry of pain and couldn’t hold onto the lightsaber any longer. The blue blades snapped shut as the hilt dropped into the mud, and she felt despair when Brutus knocked it away. The clone beat down on her viciously as Nuvani raised both arms in an attempt to defend herself- if she could only draw on the force, she could beat him. But she was hurt, aching, and exhausted, making it impossible for her to find the focus required, at least with Brutus still slamming his fists against her. Nuvani tried to wriggle her way free, and got her legs around Brutus’ arm where she could try and flip the fight in her favor, maybe flip him over and get him pinned instead. Then Brutus’ hand found her neck and gripped hard, and the thoughts left her just as air did.

She clawed and pawed at the clone trooper, but with only small amounts of oxygen being pulled into her lungs, she wasn’t able to muster the strength to fight him off. Brutus’ eyes had a manic gleam as he held the struggling Jedi down, drawing the vibroknife from his boot in a practiced, efficient motion. Nuvani struggled and squirmed as much as she could, even as the futility became fully clear to her. She couldn’t draw upon the Force, couldn’t get her lightsaber, couldn’t even overpower him. Dan had been in a similar situation, stuck with no possible way to escape. But she’d saved him from it, given him a new chance at a new life. Her precious padawan, so dear to her heart. Nuvani knew there were tears in her eyes as the hard steel of the vibroblade pressed against the soft fur on her throat. Her tears fell, leaving wet streaks through the mud and blood caked onto her face.

In what she knew would be her last moments, Nuvani felt more emotion that she’d ever thought possible in such a short time. Cliche though it was, she saw her life play out before her, from her youngling training to her early missions under Master Faolinn, the one on Bespin where she’d met Padawan Kota, or the one on Arvala-7 where she’d first seen how different outer rim life was from the Temple. Nuvani saw her knighting ceremony, the gentle care Master Yoda took when cutting her braid so as to not scorch her fur with his saber. She saw her fateful mission on Allst Prime, and the young, kind child she’d saved from certain death. When she’d boldly defied the council and pushed for him to be trained, and when she claimed him as her Padawan only a few years later. Their mission on Mimban when Dan had grown to a young adult, that had taken longer than expected because they couldn’t leave the people they met in such a sad state, and how such time away from the temple, in only each other’s company had led to the sort of bond most Jedi never experienced. A choked sob escaped her as the rapid-fire memories began to conclude, taking her through her tour of duty in the Clone Wars, and then cheerful, faithful Viper turning on her with so much hatred.

A New Hope

The vibroknife pierced into her flesh as Brutus cut her throat open, and there was blood, blood, blood spurting in an ugly fashion and taking more and more of her life out of her each time it did, and her sight went dark and she saw darkness over the galaxy, lightning crackling between two cold, gray hands that took hold of each and every planet and ground them into sand, but the sand fell between the fingers and each glistening grain became a star, stars that lit up a brilliant blue and then turned to the most beautiful shade of green imaginable, swirling and falling upon blonde hair like the sand they’d once been, and it was clear that balance would return, that the tortured soul trapped in a rasping prison would break free in his final moments and strike down his slaver.

The vision was the last thing Nuvani saw, and it gave her a new hope for the future. The last bit of life in her fell from her throat, and Nuvani Khir was at peace, her spirit becoming one with the Force.

---

Brutus let go of the now dead Jedi and felt relieved. For a minute all the anger, hatred, and despair inside him had vanished. Brutus felt happy. The mission was over and he could stop having the nightmares. He could go home. Brutus then felt his own anger because he realized he had no home. Nothing to go to after the Empire was done growing. He knew he would die sooner than most from a fight or his accelerated aging, and when he did, no one would care. He was just a clone in the army. Nothing special.

Then as if the order 66 was given again, the real anger came back, the force that told him to stop at nothing to kill the traitors, the force that told him to bring glory to his empire by eradicating the Jedi. But this time Brutus welcomed the force, it gave him at least some purpose in the galaxy. A purpose in the Empire. A purpose that could let him die remembered. Brutus vowed to not lose this purpose. He vowed to remember each and every brother he has lost so they may live on forever and die with a purpose.

Brutus put a notch on his left shoulder to mark his first Jedi killed. On his backplate Brutus carved the numbers of the men he lost today. He would carry them until the end. The Clone Commander picked up his helmet and started the walk back to the ship. He wouldn’t die unknown. The Empire would remember their greatest soldier, and all the troopers he carried with him.

[Flarbinia]

Nevarro
"Good, now tell me where the ships are." Ruhr Draay said to Tol-Loki as he picked up his master's Lightsaber, the Chagrian retrieving his Lightsabers before motioning for the Inquisitor to follow him. After two hours, they reached the Fighters: A Delta-7 with the head of a Green R2 Unit, an orange-on-black Delta-7B, and two Eta-2 Actis-class interceptors. Suddenly, Ruhr heard the familiar chirping of droids as he was approached by a bright yellow R3 unit. "R3-D20. I thought that you were destroyed on Vjun." He said to the R3 as he approached the R3, the Astromech simply chirping with joy at being reunited with its master. "Yes, I missed you too." Ruhr said to R3-D20 before turning his attention back to Tol-Loki. "I will be taking my Delta-7B and my droid back. You will have to fly to Coruscant in Master Thor's Delta-7." Ruhr Draay said to Tol-Loki before contacting the captain of the "Taurus". "Captain Helios, I have slain my former master and defeated the two Jedi he was meeting with. Send the rest of the Purge Troopers to retrieve the wounded, their Lightsabers, their droids, and my Master's corpse, then retrieve whatever information you can get out of the Eta-2s before destroying them. I will meet you on Coruscant. Ruhr Draay, out." Ruhr said to the captain before turning off his communicator and heading towards the Delta-7B with R3-D20 in tow.

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Odessen

After a fairly lengthy trek through the forests of Odessen, Martius arrived at his destination and entered into the cave; sensing immediately that the presence of the Dark Side was strong here. Igniting his lightsaber, Martius proceeded slowly through the cave, keeping a close eye out for any booby traps. After some time wandering, he came across a large stone arch that opened into what looked to be a large mausoleum, from which the darkness seemed to emanate. Approaching the arch, Martius extended his lightsaber towards the centerpiece which bore an inscription in the ancient Sith language, and though his Sith was a little rusty, Martius was able to make out: "One Sith to rule them all..."

Before he could step into the mausoleum however, an apparition appeared and exclaimed: "Stop there!" Bringing his blade to a ready position, Martius turned towards the apparition to see a large blue figure clad in armor from head to toe with its face masked and two great spikes protruding from its shoulders. Despite the appearance however, Martius sensed that, much like the rest of the planet, the Force emanating from the figure was in near balance; a stark contrast to the darkness surrounding them.

"Who are you?" Martius asked, maintaining a defense posture with his lightsaber.

"You do not know?" the figure asked in a tone that seemed almost offended "I'm surprised one of your bloodline would forget a member of the Dark Council who led a coalition with the Republic and your ancestors to defeat the Emperor."

Thinking back through the lessons learned from Master Gnost-Dural's holocron and the ancient documents he'd been reading over the past few months, Martius could think of only one man who met the figure's description: "Darth Marr?" he asked.

"Correct" Marr replied. "And you are indeed of Satele's blood?"

Martius nodded and replied: "I am."

"Than for her sake I give you this warning: proceed no further; you will find only darkness and death ahead of you in this tomb, and like the previous Jedi to set foot here I can sense you are not yet prepared to face it."

"Previous Jedi?" Martius asked, concerned for the Jedi in his charge. "Was this Jedi here recently?"

"Quite recently" Marr replied "I know not what has become of him, but yours is likely to be a worse fate if you proceed unprepared."

"If a Jedi is in trouble than I must try to help him; what is the cause of this darkness and what must I do to prepare myself to defeat it?"

"I know only that it was once a powerful Sith from eons before my time. I have little interest in the past, but Satele spent some time studying the area during our time on Odessen; if you are to find answers anywhere they will most likely be contained within her holocron. I can guide you to it, but beware that this planet still has many dangers you will have to face should you choose to continue."

"I understand" Martius replied, turning towards the cave exit "Let's get moving..."

[United Islands of Polis]

Lieutenant Cornelius Mors [CALLSIGN: Scarbrand]
Galactic City, Coruscant
After Brighthome Interrogation

"This is MT-3784 to Coruscant Air Traffic Control, requesting priority flight path to... Imperial Intelligence headquarters. One pilot on-board, status injured, how copy, over?" Cornelius spoke into the comms suite.

The flight from Brighthome station to Coruscant had taken almost two days. Having been the only one to fly and operate the Nu-Class Shuttle was a tough job given the injured state he was in. It was even harder when the Orbital Defense group had decided to block him of entrance for awhile to verify his codes. When they were verified, even when knowing of the injured status of Cornelius, they still decided not to coordinate with Coruscant ATF, perhaps with this report a few people would be losing their positions by the end of the week.

"MT-3784, this is Coruscant ATF, request denied. Follow standard flight path towards your destination, out."

Dickhead.

"Authentication code CM-38844-RDAU-83227-BP, I need that priority flight path or else I risk crashing this bird into a building, do you understand, out?" Cornelius was running low on patience at this point and took everything to keep his composure.

"Negative MT-3784, only members of the Imperial Senate or high ranking officials may use thi-... Standby."

"Apologies MT-3784, we are sending over data for your priority flight path to the Imperial Intelligence headquarters. Please follow this path."

"About damn time, MT-3784 copies." Cornelius jerked the stick towards the new flight path, cutting down travel time significantly from 30 minutes to seven.

Upon landing on a vacant landing pad, he already saw a medical team waiting, along with a stretcher, and the head of what was then the Republic Intelligence Direct Action Unit, Director Balthasar Pereira who was now sporting a new white dress uniform. Cornelius lowered the seat as the craft powered down and opened the door. As he walked out he was accompanied with the slight fog roll of carbon gas as it met fresher atmosphere.

The medical team had consisted of a few clone troopers in the red markings and liveries of the Coruscant Guard. Cornelius was told to get on the stretcher, first objecting to it until after a few times of coercing, he lied down and accepted the help. Director Pereira walked up to the stretcher as it was wheeled, or pushed since it was hovering, into the main building complex.

"How bad was it, Agent Mors?" Director Pereira simply looked ahead of the path.

"Two bounty hunters, one Mandalorian, the other some droid-humanoid amalgamation, properly armed and armored." Cornelius responded, blank-eyed, glad he could finally rest almost completely.

"That's not what I meant, Agent Mors." Director Pereira responded as he pointed at the blaster wounds.

"Ah. medical droid on Brighthome said one week with the bacta spray. Tank?" Cornelius asked.

"Tank." Director Pereira said, a smirk forming on his face as Cornelius sighed.

A Week Later

Cornelius was glad to have been finally free from the grasp of the bacta tank which had sped up the healing process from a remaining five days to two days. However for the rest of the week that had elapsed, the time spent was on minor therapies on the injury, most having been on the upper body activities. He felt fine in all honesty, however this was the order of both the current doctors local to the Imperial Intelligence complex, and the Directors, both directors Pereira and Isard, the latter did not care much for his life but instead preferred that all available agents from all branches be ready for tasking.

Cornelius was now practicing his vibroknife skills on a dummy. A slash to the throat, a slash on the abdominal area, one going sideways and one lateral from the solar plexus, multiple stab wounds on the chest area, some in the neck. He performed a roundhouse kick, one going for the head, right after slashing at the throat again and then ending with a stab at the right side of the neck before he entered a fighting stance again.

"I hope that was supposed to be the start and end of the attack, it would be a shame if you became as bloodlusted as Sergeant Zubarev from the Sentinel unit." Director Pereira walked in.

Cornelius got to attention and saluted his superior. At the moment he was clad in simple practice clothes while his armor was still being repaired. There was a long line of repairs to go for the agents since the outbreak of Order 66.

"No, sir. Sergeant Zubarev does take awhile with his kills, but we cannot deny the effectiveness of it, sir." Cornelius replied back in a snappy manner. “Is Sentinel Unit back, sir?”

Director Pereira sighed and leaned against the wall as he spoke. “Dead. Killed attempting to hunt down a Separatist holdout leader. They killed most of the standing army units in that base but fell short. I told them to wait.”

“That is unfortunate, sir.” Cornelius tried to hide the small hint of morose in his words.

“Anyway, I have a new assignment for you, Mors. Your target is Senator Tendra Noscondra, a Pantoran senator who has been vocal on their support towards demilitarization. We want her dead.” Directo Pereira handed over a folder to Cornelius, who immediately ran through the documents.

“Pantoran? What happened to Senator Chuchi?” Cornelius looked at the photo attached, standard look for a Pantoran female.

“Temporarily on Ord Plutonia to deal with interior and local problems, she’s the temporary replacement. And before you ask, no this isn’t sanctioned by the Pantoran Government. Keep it clean.” Director Pereira left the training hall.

“Wait, sir, I have a list of things I need.” Cornelius produced a piece of paper from his pocket and handed it over to Director Pereira.

“Oh, a shopping list. A cloaking device? I can get everything else here but that, we barely have our prototypes working and the black market ones are either unstable or rare. I’ll see that you get the rest of everything though before your mission.” Director Pereira slipped the paper into his breast pocket, indicating he was actually going to do it.

Lieutenant Cornelius Mors [CALLSIGN: Scarbrand]
Galactic City, Coruscant
A Week Later

Cornelius leaned against the railing of a building right across the Senate building. There was a meeting ongoing at the moment and the approach this time was a terrorist styled attack. The moment Acting Senator Noscondra stepped into her air car, a bomb would go off, it was a standard tactic, however as a fallback, Cornelius had set up his NT-242 nearby, with a much larger scope to hit targets from further away.

Senators began to come out of the building when the skyline had reached dusk, it was perfect, but it was also time consuming, a pain on the nerves too, there was only so much a human could do after all.

”Must’ve been one hell of a meeting.” Cornelius told himself as the Senate Guards opened the door for the senators.

Then he saw it, the air car he rigged pulled up front and out came Senator Noscondra. As she got in, Cornelius pressed the detonation key on his wristpad, but nothing happened. Pressing it a few more times and checking if he had pressed the right button, which he did, nothing still happened. He was ready to take off and follow his target using his new jetpack but then the air car turned around and landed, it seemed the Senator had forgotten something.

As she stepped out of the air car and gained some distance, Cornelius lined up for a shot until the bomb went off too late. The flash caused him to recoil and the entire Senate district went into panic as Senate Commandos and Coruscant Guards scrambled about, finding the perpetrator. She and her guards ran into the Business district, to presumably where either a safehouse was, or an alternate extraction option was there waiting for her.

Jumping off the building, Cornelius built up some speed first in a free-fall before activating the jetpack, stabilizing him and heading his way towards the target. Dodging and weaving through air cars he eventually made his way into the Business district where her guards and a few Senate Commandos were nearby clearing a path. Cornelius would have to stay in the shadows for now. Getting around he used the ascension cable unit on his left gauntlet to transport and secure him when jumping building to building, tailing them.

The big mistake came about when they entered an alley. Cornelius drew his DC-15s, loaded with a pure Tibana gas cartridge which gave it a yellow blaster bolt instead of the ionized Tibana cartridges that gave the signature blue bolts. This allowed anyone who saw the engagement thing that this hit was committed by a Mandalorian bounty hunter instead.

Cornelius dropped two smoke grenades into the alley and let them fill the place with smoke. Cornelius had activated his low light visor mode which allowed him to see through the smoke since it was not a smoke concoction made to counter IR devices.

Five bodyguards and the Acting Senator, easy job for now.

Cornelius fired twice into the first bodyguard, the yellow bolts killing the Pantoran easily. This was followed by a fusillade of blaster fire which was covered by a dumpster. Seeing the problem, Cornelius threw two flash grenades on either side of the alleyway ends to blind incoming and current targets. After they went off and anyone in range was now disoriented, he pulled out his vibroknife and used it in tandem with his DC-15s. The nearest guard he stabbed quickly in the throat with a reverse handle, putting two shots into his chest area. The next one was disposed of with another two shots to the chest, but the last one was able to tackle him to the ground, however still reeling back from the effects of the flashbang, Cornelius was abe to gain the upper hand again by stabbing the Pantoran’s arm, before getting into a headlock. He struggles a lot and hard, however in the headlock, Cornelius slowly lifted the blaster to the Pantora’s head and pulled the trigger, falling limp.

Seeing the Acting Senator at the end of the alleyway, a holdout blaster drawn, she shot Cornelius once, which hit the pauldron, causing no damage to him, however he pulled the trigger five times, missing twice but hitting thrice, one in the abdomen, one in the chest, and one in the head. Civilians around ran away from the smoking alley as the firefight ended.

Before returning he had retrieved all and any recording devices on the bodyguards, which there were two, and a signal jammer on the one who Cornelius got in a headlock with.

“You’re the reason we all had to suffer, smart move.” Cornelius said as he shot the signal jammer and recording devices before blasting off. As Senate Commandos began to fire on him, he disappeared into the shadows of the commercial buildings.

“Base, this is Scarbrand. Target eliminated, slight hiccup, coverable, out.”

Three Months Later

For the next three months, Cornelius had performed more missions of less note, regardless they did still have an impact, one of them having been the stopping of a smuggler and the shut down of a major black market site, which he did in tandem with the new Imperial Security Bureau and Judicial Forces.

However the creeping tension of a purge was evident and rank in Imperial Intelligence. Some people were disappearing for no reason whatsoever, reports of dead bodies that were unidentifiable were always on the news, and he knew exactly why; they were getting rid of people who seemed to have doubts on the Empire.

Cornelius had finished his paper work on the black market raid and went outside for some fresh air, only to be greeted by Director Pereira, who was smoking on the balcony.

“Something is bothering you, isn’t there, sir.” Cornelius asked as he walked closer.

“I’m a two pack a day man, what are you on about?” Director Pereira took a long drag from the stick and puffed smoke.

“Really, the lies?” Cornelius dropped the formalities, perhaps it would show the true mood.

Director Pereira sighed long and hard before continuing. “Tell me, Cornelius. Do you believe the Jedi actually attempted a coup?”

“Of course, they were greedy degenerates who stood on their pedestal thinking they owned everything.” Cornelius responded back.

“You’re a terrible liar, son. Except on the pedestal part, that has some truth to it..” Pereira laughed a hollow chuckle. “Evidently you don’t think so, and you are right. Are you aware of Operation: Knightfall? We’re alone, don't worry.”

“Only by what I’m supposed to know.” Cornelius leaned on the balcony railing as they watched the air cars and speeders zoom past.

“Well it was not a counter move, it was where they moved on the Jedi temple and killed everyone in there, including the children, in tandem with Order 66 of course. A regrettable loss.” Pereira said with true empathy, there was no way he could lie about that.

“Yeah, on Brighthome I met a Clone Trooper by the name of Rass, he’s proof that even some of them regret killing children, or people they may have trusted deeply.” Cornelius drew back from some memories.

“They’re putting me on forced retirement.”

“They’re killing you, you mean.”

Director Pereira simply grunted at that response.No finesse, no formalities, just a simple grunt at the cold hard truth.

“Why?”

“I helped clear Senators Mon Mothma and Bail Organa from the purge by clearing their names. They traced it back to me. So much for firewalls.” Director Pereira straightened his cap.

“Do you need me to get you off the planet?” Cornelius replied back.

“No, it leaves my family vulnerable. My dear Anna, the one mistake I made in this profession was her, and I loved every single moment of it.” Director Pereira reminisced. “It’s my time to face the music, exit through that door over there or else they might kill you too, I have only one request, Cornelius. Get my family away from here a few days after, bring them back to Naboo, my brother knows already and will take it from there..”

Cornelius left immediately, hand on his DC-15s, the only weapon he could carry in his dress uniform. As he did he immediately hid as he saw a pair of ISB agents and Director Isard. The whole arrest had seemed calm, probably due to the respect of each other. As they left, Cornelius followed far behind, eventually they reached a landing pad where Director Pereira’s air car waited for their passengers to board. From the shadows, Cornelius drew his DC-15s and aimed with two hands, ready to try and take Director Isard and four or six more ISB agents at once, he was confident he could do it. But as he saw the face of Director Pereira turn towards him, expecting him to be there in the shadows, he moved his head sideways, telling him no.

As Cornelius put the DC-15s down, Director Isard pulled out his own blaster and shot Director Pereira twice in the back, he died with a smile on his face, knowing his family would be safe. After that they brought his body inside the shuttle and it took off. Cornelius moved as quickly to his office and sat down, mildly panicking from the scene. He didn't want to leave yet, but he knew he’d have to do it soon.

Just as he began to calm down, all the adrenaline had spiked again as Director Isard stood in front of his office. Cornelius was never one to be scared, but in this instance he felt it completely raw and unhindered.

“Captain Mors, I need you to call the family of Director Pereira.” Director Isard said from the door of his office, sounding to be genuinely concerned..

“F-for what reason, sir.” Cornelius stuttered as he picked up the phone, dialing the number from a notebook he left on his table.

“His car… It was ambushed by anti-Imperial activists, he was found dead in the Staport Sector. I’m sorry for your loss, Captain Mors, but I have to go… arrange a few things with the gap now.” Director Isard replied back with a facade of sincerity as he left the office.

”Hello?” a feminine voice picked up.

“Mrs. Anna pereira, this is Captain Mors calling. I’m afraid this isn’t a social call neither, ma’am. Your husband was killed in the Starport Sector.”

As the words left his mouth, the only thing Cornelius heard in the background was the receiver falling and hitting something, and quiet sobbing in the background. Cornelius cried for the first time once again, as if he had lost the entirety of Scarbrand Unit again.

[Sao Nova Europa]

Vader and his squadron of clone troops kept making their way through the dense jungle, passing right through thick smoke and flaming trees. On their way, they had found more than a dozen bodies of insurgents, terribly deformed. The bombing had accomplished its objective of eliminating the greater part of the enemy resistance. Now all that remained were the Jedi and a few insurgents.

“Ah!”

The clone trooper next to Vader screamed in pain as a blaster shot penetrated his forehead. Two more clones were taken out by deathly accurate headshots. Vader and his troops could see three insurgents hiding behind some flaming trees. While his troops concentrated on the two insurgents on their left, Vader moved to take on the insurgent on their right.

The insurgent was firing rapid shots, but Vader ignited his lightsaber and deflected the blaster fire. He slowly approached the insurgent, who kept firing shots at him. When he was close enough, he stabbed his lightsaber through the chest of the insurgent, killing him. His blood spilled on the ground.

Turning around, Vader saw that his troopers had made short work of the other two insurgents, who laid on the ground beside a pool of their own blood. ‘We must be getting close,’ Vader thought.

---

Boom!

The grenade thrown by the clone trooper blew up three insurgent snipers firing from distance. Three other clones were engaged in a firefight with a number of insurgents hiding behind a tree branch. The sound of blaster fire was deafening.

Vader ignored all the firefights taking place around him and marched forward alone. He had no time to lose and he could handle himself. As he walked deeper into the smoke-filled jungle, he had a sudden feeling he was being watched. He stood still and suddenly five insurgents appeared and fired at him.

Vader ignited once more his lightsaber and deflected their fire. He force pushed away the five insurgents, sending them flying on the ground. All five of them were knocked unconscious by the impact. Before he could keep marching forward, suddenly someone somersaulted behind him. Vader turned around as fast as he could and parried a lightsaber blow with his saber.

Seeing the Jedi in person, Vader froze. Jenassa resembled Padme far more than Vader could have ever imagined. This image brought back memories of times when he wasn’t a ruthless, cold enforcer but rather a passionate young man. He was reminded of their kisses, their sweet words, their laughters, the times they spent looking at picturesque sunsets.

“Sith!” Jenassa interrupted his trail of thought. “Your evil presence will not be tolerated here.”

Vader was silent, returning back to his thoughts. ‘The past has to die,’ he thought. ‘I am Darth Vader, Lord of the Sith who slew Anakin Skywalker.’

Jenassa charged at Vader, who remained still and calm. He forcefully dodged the attack with a simple parry. “Pathetic,” he murmured. Jenassa lunged forward and struck again at the Dark Lord, her strikes forceful and quick. Vader parried them with ease, without even bothering to move his feet.

As Jenassa somersaulted once more, Vader forced pushed her, stopping her mid-air from attacking him. Jenassa struck at him five more times, and all five Vader’s force pushes stopped her. Being unable to strike at him, she was forced to change to her secondary lightsaber style. This time her attack was to be slower but also far more forceful. As Jenassa delivered her strike, Vader’s lightsaber flickered and stabbed her shoulder. The Jedi let out a cry. Vader used her lapse of concentration to force push her against a tree, her back hitting the wood with a loud sound.

“Weak… You’ve already been defeated. Further resistance is futile. Tell me where Obi-Wan Kenobi is and I may yet let you live.”

Jenassa stood up, gritting her teeth. Her face was pale but her look defiant. “You won’t live long enough to find out!”. She assumed a defensive posture and waited for Vader to make a move.

Vader took small but firm steps towards her, approaching her carefully, his lightsaber always ready to parry a sudden attack. Both of them remained still for a few seconds, hoping that the other would strike first. Seeing that Jenassa wasn’t going to attack, Vader finally went onto the offensive. He forcefully struck at her. His style was one of using overwhelming force to subdue the opponent.

Jenassa parried the blade with her own lightsaber but he was pushed back by the impact of the clash. It was clear who was the stronger of the two. Vader struck again and again, ever more forcefully. Jenassa is forced to fall back with each attacker. She could feel her lightsaber jolting in her hand.

Vader struck with an upward slash from his downward left to upward right side, which was blocked by Jenassa but left her left hand upwards as her movements had become slow and sluggish from the powerful barrages inflicted on her by Vader. Before she could bring her lightsaber back into her zone, Vader slashed away her left hand, eliciting cries of pain. Vader stabbed his saber right through her chest. She let out a scream and vomited blood as Vader let her fall on the ground, lifeless. “The past is dead.”

[Castriarta]

Jedi Knight Ra Ada Viab Aenir
Somewhere in the Underbelly of Coruscant

Ra Ada looked down from above at his motionless body. Although his form was still, it had the vague perception of swirling, as if his flesh was caught in some cosmic undercurrent, moving along in place to the flow of all the matter and energy in the universe. In this near-death state, he felt a soft darkness approaching. Ra's mind, numb with pain and shock, did not fully understand at first: something in him questioned this approaching night.

What do you want with me today, Dark One?

Echoing thoughts reached the outer recesses of his mind: they seemed to be his own, but still felt foreign to him. Some obscuring fog prevented him from seeing anything but his own broken self, floating as if alone on the blank canvas of creation. A darkness rested over him, a heavy darkness. But now, suddenly, realization struck. Ra knew what this darkness was. Calmly, the Jedi questioned his death:

Why are you coming down, to rest on me?

The voice of thought was his own, but spoke from elsewhere than his own being. Struggling against the mortal mist clouding his self-consciousness, Ra tried to force himself back into his own flesh. He was not going into enter the eternal night, not yet. Down, his disembodied spirit went, down into his own body, which quickly immersed him. Summoning all the strength of life in him, the Jedi sought connection to the Force. Ra sought the presence of the Living Force, the denial of death. Ra fought this death that would deny him of his destiny. He was a Jedi. This was not to be his end: he must still serve the Light. He would fight for the Light. And with this conviction, the Jedi spoke to the Dark that threatened him:

I know your shadow: you will be long since gone.

As he regained awareness of his physical state, pain erupted across the Anzati's senses. A lightning-like red flash of agony pierced through his mind, resounding in the Jedi's consciousness. But Ra was determined. Accumulating pure force of will, Ra resisted the nauseating agony pushing him to surrender to death.

Fly on, Dark One. You will not take me today.

Ra Ada Viab Aenir's eyes shot open. He had beaten back death. Gasping raggedly, the Anzati rolled over onto his hands and knees. Bleary-eyed, he watched as blood dripped down from wounds in his side and abdomen. Smoke rose all around him. Head swirling, Ra sat up onto his knees, throwing his head back. Blood spilled from his mouth and onto his chin as a weak cough forced itself from his dry and cracked lips.

"I survived." He murmured, a thankful shock penetrating his words. "Thank the Force, I survived."

Looking around, Ra took in his surroundings. He seemed to be in some deep, filthy layer of Coruscant's underbelly, kneeling in the midst of a ship wreckage. "This must be where my shuttle crashed when it was shot down by the Imperials," he thought. Gripping onto a nearby structure of debris with one bloody hand, Ra pulled himself to his feet. Instinctively, his other hand went down to his side, checking for his lightsaber. Relief flooded his body as the Anzati felt the familiar coolness of the metal hilt. "I will not be robbed of my mission. I will not fail the Order," he thought. "But I must leave before Imperials show up. They will still be hunting me -- those murderers will not abandon the scent of blood so quickly." Stumbling forward on weak legs, Ra pushed himself past the burning wreckage and into the dark world of Coruscant's depths.

Three Months Later
Jedi Knight Ra Ada Viab Aenir
Odessen

A lively green and blue orb materialized in the viewport of the beat up old space shuttle. Leaning wearily over the starship controls, the lone figure in the cockpit gazed appreciatively at the planet below. To the eyes of Jedi Knight Ra Ada, it was a sight beyond beautiful: after months of scrounging and hiding in the underworld of the new Imperial capital, this simple planet was like a Promised Land, a deliverance from the constant paranoia and danger of life on Coruscant. This place had such a feeling of vitality: it felt like a beacon of Light in the Force, glowing with a subtle warmth. Even from space, the wise Jedi felt that on this planet there dwelled a deep, ancient, and flourishing presence of the Living Force.

So overcome by this connection the Light Side was Ra Ada that he bowed his head, still leaning over the control panel of his ship. Pressing a tired hand against his heart, the Anzat Jedi repeated an ancient Jedi prayer, his voice laden with the emotional weight of great gratitude: "O Light everlasting, which dost shine forth before all worlds, O Spirit that is clothed in Being, O Living promise of our salvation and redemption -- enable me worthily to partake of thy mysterious power, that all that is of death in my flesh may be swept away by the incorruptible Life." Solemn and humble, the Knight of the Fallen Order spoke each of these words with a voice rich in the power of the Force.

After his miraculous survival of the crash of his first escape shuttle, shot down by Imperial pursuers who assumed Ra to have been incinerated in the wreck, the Jedi had slunk into the kingdoms of crime and evil where even the long arm of the "all-powerful" new Empire did not have complete control. Living in those terrible depths of the Old Republic capital, Ra had engaged in a constant fight for survival. Near-dead already from the wounds accrued in his crash, he had to fight off sadistic and psychopathic attackers of all kinds in those dark underlevels: insane serial killers, slavers, headhunters, and desperate criminals looking to gain new possessions at all costs. All this while evading Imperial agents, who were greatly emboldened by Palpatine's open ruthlessness. If Ra had any doubts about the decay and all-pervading corruption of the Old Republic before, now they were gone: seeing how much evil festered right under the Jedi's noses, and seeing how quickly Palpatine was able to reorient its entire bureaucratic apparatus to his own ends, revealed to Ra Ada just how far gone the Republic had been. The Jedi now saw one thing: the Republic was not really overthrown. It had fallen long ago, slowly transformed into a shell of its old self, ripe to be enslaved by a willing master. The Jedi failed long before the Purge. All that they had been fighting for was destroyed under their own watch, while they were distracted, fighting in a war they caused by their own arrogance. Ra Ada knew that there was no balance for Palpatine to upset: the Dark Side had already won. All the Emperor did was blow on the Jedi's house of cards, revealing its frailty. The Darkness was already there, surrounding the Jedi, consuming them. Their blindness to it was their own fault. In a way, Ra Ada thought, Palpatine had done a service to the Jedi by showing them how far they had fallen.

Ra had spent many sleepless nights wracked by this horrible revelation. The terror of the Fall of the Light was inescapable, and Aenir had nearly gone insane. In his weakened state, wracked by pains from his unhealed wounds, the Anzati was particularly vulnerable to the overwhelming pressure of the Dark Side that had suddenly come alive in the Galaxy. Terrible hours he spent, facing with the temptation to fall to the evil of the Dark, to give in to his rage and grief. But the Light in him prevailed. He heard a Calling. An ancient technique, long unused by the Jedi: a Force Call. A beacon to all those who are in union with the Light, it was a way that Jedi could call for their physical reunion by means of their metaphysical connection. Roused from his unbearable grief at the fallen state of the Galaxy, Ra Ada had followed this calling. And now he had arrived where it had taken him: the ancient world of legend, Odessen. Considered to be more fable than history, this planet was on very few Galactic maps. But the spirit of the Light Side had guided him here.

Falling backwards into the dirty seat of this rickety space shuttle, the Anzat breathed a soft sigh of relief. Aching pain coursed through his entire body: unhealed wounds abounded across his emaciated flesh, barely hidden by the torn and charred robes that the Anzat had once kept in such pristine condition. Dried blood was splattered across his body, from his boots to his hands to his long, unkempt silvery-white hair. Although always a lean being, at this point Ra Ada was simply malnourished. Good food was not abundant in Coruscant's impoverished criminal underworld. Regardless, the Anzat Knight felt a calm and unwavering determination. Centering himself on the feeling of the Light, Ra Ada watched as the mythical planet grew larger in the viewport, growing ever closer in his approach.

[The Imperial Republic]

A Late Night Encounter
The Imperial Republic
Meikzhemy

---

Sitting at the edge of the hangar floor, Vrudun looked up at the sparkling stars of Odessen's beautiful night. On this night, he was chosen for patrol duties as the rest of the Temple slept, watching sensor array control station and ensuring that Odessen's Temple wouldn't be surprised by less than friendly guests. He managed to link the station's alert system to his own comlink, which would beep incessantly until he returned to the command center. In the tranquility of the late night, he took this opportunity to meditate, something that he had forgotten to do for some time now. For nearly an hour, he sat there, re-centering himself and trying to re-balance the connection to the Force. He wasn't as profound in his link to the Force as Masters Nard or Shan, but he felt off, like the presence of the Dark Side was close, closer than it ever had been. As he stared up, losing himself in the never-ending fascination of space, he felt another presence near him...

"You feel it too, do you not?"

Rhys' familiar voice came as he approached the meditating Knight with a certain softness to his step. He wore a simple blindfold in place of his headdress, opting to let his neck-length white hair free. His arrival at such an hour was hardly surprising, however. Of all the demoralized Jedi to flock into this place of exile, the fledgling sage was certainly one of the most restless among them. Rhys stepped up to the lip of the hangar at Vrudun's side, treading carefully so as to not interfere with his meditation. He "stared" out into the night sky, folding his hands behind his back.

"Darkness..."

"We're surrounded by it. There is no running from it, Padawan. But the Jedi will live on. So long as one of us remains living, we shall always be a light in the darkness. We gather strength with every Jedi that finds this place and though many of us have fallen to the machinations of the Sith, we will not so simply be snuffed out."

Vrudun had ended his meditation only minutes before the Padawan had joined him in the Hangar and while it brought him some peace, it left all of his questions unanswered.

"Trust only in the Force. That is our weapon, our ultimate strength to fight back."

"Of course," he said almost immediately. "My thoughts have not strayed from such teachings. But no amount of meditation has brought me closer to making sense of it all..." he paused for a moment. "It pains me enough to feel the suffering of those we lost, but now that it grows silent..."

Rhys trailed off, seemingly collecting himself.

"Are we all alone now? Or perhaps, this is this a sign of something worse to come?"

Vrudun chuckled a bit as he heard Rhys describe the pain of it all and the confusion it brought with him. He wasn't lying if he said that he didn't feel the same. This....destruction is something no Jedi was prepared for.

"Rhys, nothing in this galaxy makes sense anymore. Turned on by our own soldiers for no particular reason, the loss of our great Temple, and the rest of us scurrying into holes for which to hide from this new Empire. It's not very encouraging, I know, but we cannot exist through this turbulent new age by lying to each other. And no, I don't believe we are. I hold out hope that there are droves of us that survived this betrayal and I am confident in the fact that hope will live on." Vrudun turned his head to look at the Miraluka.

"But....in the unfortunate event that we are truly the last of our kind, no matter how unlikely that may be, then now it may be even more important to hold close the future generation of Jedi, such as yourself, such as Tuka. Our Padawans."

The Padawan briefly hung his head at that. "You flatter me. I've much to learn still," he replied. "But I will endure. Mine is a life of servitude, and serve I will."

"But more so than the fate of the Order, it is the state of our brothers and sisters here on Odessen that has grown ever more...troubling to me." Rhys gazed back into the night, silently lamenting over the double-edged sword that was his talent for telepathy. "I can feel it, you know; The anger, the frustration...slowly and collectively gnawing away at them all. I fear that, in time, we may lose even more to their own emotions..."

Vrudun did not speak for a moment after listening to the Padawan's observations of the most evident and most unspoken aura that's hung over this relic for so long. Rhys was not wrong. There was a feeling among the Jedi survivors, a feeling of confusion, of hatred and of vengeance. Everything the Order taught them from a young age to avoid, many of them were embracing. In the shadow of the Sith, the light still hung defiant in the darkness but that light was flickering. Every Jedi here, including Master Shan and Master Nardrashtasch was shaken. What he thought wasn't so much as concrete, but more so of what he thought he may be feeling in his brief moments of meditation. They've all lost so much, all been tested in ways they couldn't have imagined, and here they all were, pressing on. Acting determined, but only acting. Even Vrudun had betrayed the Jedi Code while on his short time at this new Temple. But, for all the early mornings and late nights he sat up reciting the Code, pledging himself to it, he didn't feel the least bit ashamed or guilty. He'd allowed himself this one bit of comfort, he, a Jedi Knight, allowed himself to be ruled by love.

"We've all made mistakes in our times here, Padawan. I cannot lie and say that I've not made any myself. But....if we are to rebuild our Order, focus and meditation for the foundations we must plant. Focus on only the Code, Meditate and bring your emotions under control. That is the only way we will rise above this instead of sinking down into the muck and dirt and darkness of the Sith."
Vrudun sighed heavily as the Padawan processed the Knight's words.

"But I feel as though our Order must evolve. If we remain complacent, we will all surely perish. For us to preserve and restore our Order, we must be prepared to fight for it with the Force and our Lightsabers as our tools. If we do not, darkness will eventually rule this Galaxy. Their extermination of us was not complete, but we can rest assured knowing that they will not stop until every single Jedi, be them youngling or Master, is hunted down and executed."

The Padawan returned a slow nod to Vrudun's words. A seemingly inquisitive gaze fell upon the Knight for a time, before returning to look upon the beautiful nature before them.

"Your words have merit, Master Tumara," he said softly, pursing his lips in consideration for a moment. "I must confess, I felt such disturbances from you since my arrival. Forgive me if my worry was misplaced."

A short pause set in, and the Miraluka's solemn expression gave way to a sly grin.

"My late Master used to remind me that an excess of empathy would only lead to despair and despondence for myself as well. I suppose certain habits die hard."

"Find me any Jedi still alive in this new age and tell me he or she is not somewhat disturbed?" Said Vrudun, smiling, trying to make light of this situation.

"Ah, our masters....before my training completed, my Master advised me of the same. In practice, every Master teaches their Padawan that an excess of anything, especially emotion, is detrimental to the balanced state of a Jedi. A true Jedi."

"Hm, indeed. I envy you, to be honest - to have progressed through such a pivotal stage of a Jedi's training in a time of greater...stability." Rhys exhaled through his nose. "...to think my trials would be met with a close encounter with death at every turn."

He nodded again, speaking with a hint of confidence. "Come what may, we will endure. My peers and I helped tend to the needs and wounds of both refugees and an entire battalion on Mygeeto, and I hope to do the same for those here as well. Perhaps, in time, I may survive long enough to be of even greater use..."

"Hmm. It's times like these, we see what the Jedi Order is really made of. Will we stand by our faith even as the Galaxy seems to crumble down around us? No, I think not." He said as he stood.

"Padawan...." He almost didn't want to ask, because he didn't know if he was ready. But, without a Master, a Padawan's training cannot be complete. But, he saw something in Rhys. For a Padawan, he was an ideal model. A Paragon of what a Jedi learner should be. He would ask.

"You have no current Master, yes?"

"I do not," the Miraluka said plainly. His look soured for a second. "She stood no chance...shot down by the very ones whose lives we strove to save."

Vrudun looked down upon hearing of what happened to his master. "I'm sorry, Padawan. I may be a Knight, but that doesn't mean I care any less for my master. I'm not even sure if she survived or not. I was on Metalorn while she was on Atzerri. During my meditations, I've tried to reach out, try to call to her, even feel her. But it's all so clouded. I felt nothing. I want to believe she's still alive, somehow made it off of Atzerri and went into hiding or joined a group of Jedi such as ours. Strength in numbers, and all. I hold out hope but....not knowing is itself, tormenting."

Silence enveloped the two for a moment as Vrudun thought of his next words. He felt as if he wasn't ready. He could just walk away from this, dismiss the Padawan and check the stations in the command room. He could allow someone else to do it. To train him. Afon could do it. Inera would be ideal. Her staunch views on the Code were, by far, the purest. She knew nothing but the Code, even if it seemed a bit extremist. Perhaps that's exactly what he needed. Master Shan had no Padawan. He'd be the best choice, by far. But....something stopped him from walking away. And all he could think about was his Master, Jenassa. She'd want him to do it. Instill the same values she gave to him. Lead in the effort to rebuild the Order. It would be uncomfortable for him. But he would trust in the Force.

"I would like to train you, Rhys Aatahl. I would like to see your training complete and rise to Knighthood with me."

Rhys stood in silence with him for a time, hanging his head again as he momentarily shared in the mourning of their masters. Vrudun's offer, even for the reticent Padawan, was a surprise. He perked up. "...truly?"

He furrowed his brow, briefly looking to the sky as he considered the Knight's request. Technically, he had striven to learn at least a bit from each of his fellow Jedi on Odessen - or, at least from each person's talents. Perhaps, with such a commitment, both of them could learn from one another? Eventually, he shifted his blind gaze to Vrudun, and bid him a respectful bow of the head.

"I'd be honored."

Vrudun released a shallow sigh after the Miraluka accepted his request. The reluctance faded away and the empty feeling within him was beginning to shrink. He felt as though he now had a purpose. "Very well, Padawan. I will, of course, need to get approval from the Council on this, but I believe they won't have a problem with this. I am the one who is honored. I will not fail you, this I swear to you."