Star Wars: Retaliation (IC)

[Okayanos]

---

Former Jedi Dan Brovil

Fortress Inquisitorius
Nur

Dan barely had the strength left to grunt out an ‘oof’ as he was shoved into his new quarters. He knew his legs would fail him before he even began to stumble. How fitting, that the Force only spoke to him to tell him when he was going to fail. Dan collapsed onto the cold durasteel floor with a muted thud. He caught a glimpse of the Purge Trooper that had escorted him, and couldn’t help but wonder if one of the 411th was underneath the black armor. The entire regiment would be hungry for his blood, Dan figured. After all, he’d cut off their commander’s arm, and left the man disfigured for life. Fat lot of good it had done him.

“You awaken tomorrow for lightsaber construction and armor fitting. If you don’t, you get hurt. If you fail to understand the process, you get hurt. If you try to fight back, you die. Welcome to the Inquisitorius,” The Purge Trooper said. The second the soldier finished talking, the door of Dan’s new quarters slammed shut. He had a feeling that it wouldn’t open if he tried it. Dan braced his hands against the floor and pushed, in an effort to raise his bare torso off of the freezing metal. It felt like an entire Acclamator was resting across his back.

Millimeter by millimeter, Dan hauled himself up. He clutched at the slab of metal that served as a bed, clutching to it like it would give him life. Dan was certain that it took him the better part of an hour to get himself up onto it, but compared to the floor, the thin sheets were heaven. The black pit in his chest had grown heavier in this place, feeding itself on the ambient Dark Side energy that permeated the cruel fortress. It no longer tempted him as it had in Odessen. The torture he’d suffered at Kedoa’s hands had blinded him until he fell into the pit entirely of his own volition. Now, he was in a long freefall, tumbling down into the black pit. Dan didn’t know what would happen if he hit the bottom.

He didn’t move. The jagged patterns of lightning scars patchworked all over his bare torso would only get more painful if he moved. Dan hadn’t expected the Inquisitors to clothe him- the Dark Side offered no comforts. He could tell that the tattered, dirty trousers he wore were the only possession he had left. When he next awoke, he wouldn’t even have that. The Inquisitorius would remake him anew.

Dan Brovil closed his eyes, and spent the last moments of his old life in a silent slumber.

---

He awoke slowly. Dan’s eyes were too heavy to open, but he could stretch his tired limbs. The bed below him was softer than the one he’d fallen asleep on, and he let himself sink into it. There were sheets over him that hadn’t been there before. He opened his eyes for a brief moment, and saw that they were a plain white. More interestingly, there was another body underneath them, huddled in just a short distance away from him. The other being’s warm Force presence reached him, and it was as though he was wrapped in morning sunlight. Dan let his eyes close again as a rare smile creeped over his face. The presence was familiar to him. He reached his arms out under the sheets, pulling the other being closer until her back was against his chest.

“Finally awake, Dan?” Nuvani purred. She huddled back against Dan, and he responded in kind, leaning in until her hair was tickling his nose.

“Mmm. Barely,” Dan replied. He didn’t need to open his eyes to know what she’d look like right now. Light fur with brown patches and stripes on her face, wavy dark hair that fell down to her shoulders and framed her face, and eyes the color of autumn. He planted a light kiss on the tip of one of her pointed ears, and it made Nuvani squirm. She laughed quietly, and Dan felt a rare sense of belonging. Nuvani began to shift in his arms. Dan could tell she was turning herself so she faced him, and he was proven right when he felt her breath on his throat. Nuvani returned his kiss to him, touching her lips against the tip of his chin, where he still had a faint scar from a bad fall in training.

“Open your eyes, love,” Nuvani murmured, barely above a hoarse whisper. She kissed along his jaw, his cheek, and when she reached his forehead, Dan realized she’d clambered up on top of him. “Dan, look at me,” She said again, in a more serious tone.

“Too tired,” He grumbled. “Let this last a while longer.” Dan felt her head rest down against his chest, and he began to run his fingers through her hair almost instinctively. He could imagine what she looked like right now, staring up at him and trying to look annoyed even as she leaned into his touch. He didn’t need to open his eyes for that.

“Dan. You need to open your eyes.” Nuvani insisted. She was using her Serious Jedi voice now, the one that made her Cathar accent come out. Dan tugged her up to kiss her on the lips before opening his eyes. Nuvani made a small disgruntled noise, but he could tell that she wasn’t complaining. Finally, Dan let his eyes open.

And the entire scene had changed.

Gravity suddenly shifted, and it was Dan on top of Nuvani, but the bed was gone, replaced by wet, muddy ground. He saw his hands, covered by black armor, tightening around Nuvani’s throat. She made only a weak, choked cry, almost pleading. Dan found that his ability to control his own body had faded.

Guided by some other will, Dan drew his lightsaber. The hilt was familiar and not at the same time. Dan held Nuvani down as he pressed the activation switch, and a blade the color of a setting sun hummed forth. He felt his hand bring the blade down against Nuvani’s neck, the crimson glow reflecting in her frightened eyes. Dan’s lightsaber cut across her throat slowly.

He felt her spasm, saw the tears fall from her eyes, heard the sick gargling as she choked on her own blood. A cut from a lightsaber should’ve been instantly cauterized, but Nuvani bled from her neck, and it didn’t stop. Not when she let out a final gasping sob. Not when the light and color drained from her eyes. Not when she finally fell limp and lifeless.

It was only then that Dan was able to control himself again. He recoiled back, standing up, unable to tear his eyes away from the corpse that had been his master. Dan felt sick. He wanted to cry, to scream, to vomit, but none of it happened. The corpse began to sink slowly into the muck, down, down, and down until it was gone from view.

Dan stood, frozen, staring at the empty patch of ground where his master’s body had lain only moments before. He felt a hand on his back, but before he could turn to see who it belonged to, he was shoved forward roughly. Dan stumbled, tripped, and fell to the muddy ground. He tried to push himself up, but every part of him was stuck and sinking, just as Nuvani had. Even when hopelessness began to descend upon him, Dan still tried to rise against it.

Every attempt to free himself just seemed to make him sink further. Soon, his arms were locked in place, and his legs shortly after. Dan’s face went under, and a muffled sound of panic escaped him as he realized he was suffocating. A haughty, almost aristocratic voice came from above him. He recognized the voice of Kedoa.

“Truly worthless, aren’t you?” The Inquisitor taunted him. Dan had no ability to reply, as he fought to keep air in his lungs. He felt his chest begin to burn in agony, and made the mistake of trying to open his mouth. He tasted dirt, blood, and suffocation. The heel of Kedoa’s boot ground into his back, and it was the only thing keeping Dan from unconsciousness. She shoved him down, and he was surrounded only by the weight of the dark.

And then, Dan was in freefall. The heavy, blind blackness gave way to a rush of cool wind, and he knew he was falling from the weightlessness in his stomach. Dan knew what was happening to him now- he’d fallen into the pit. He was falling, held together by the same things that tore him apart, and it made him feel worthless. He wanted to be worthless, in some dark part of himself. When Dan realized that, his fall was interrupted, as he hit solid ground.

The bottom of the pit was coarse sand, like the duelling rings in the Jedi temple. Dan began to push himself back up to his feet, and found himself back in his 11-year old body, marked by hunger, fatigue, and the torture inflicted on him by the Jarvashqiine. He thought he was alone in the sand ring, until he heard rasping, inhuman laughter behind him. Dan turned towards it, and saw Brutus- or, rather, what Brutus had become.

The Clone was barely recognizable as a soldier. His hair fell in ragged, wild curls, darkened by bloodstains. The lower half of his face was skinless, showing only dirty yellow bone and sharpened teeth. Brutus’ eyes were blood-shot and grey-pupilled, making him look even more like a ravenous monster. Where his right hand should’ve been, there was only a twisted mass of metal and blades that vaguely resembled a human appendage. Brutus was covered by the scorched remains of his armor, seemingly embedded into his flesh at points. His skin was covered in Jarvashqiine ritual tattoos, and jagged Zabrak horns ringed the crown of his head.

The nightmare that had once been Brutus lumbered toward Dan with more speed than it should’ve been capable of. Before Dan could attempt to run, the nightmare’s metal hand was around his neck. As he felt the cold edges of blades lighting against his skin, he didn’t dare move. The nightmare lifted him off the ground until his feet dangled, and for a chilling moment, it stared at him. The nightmare’s eyes were those of a blind man, but its gaze pierced through to Dan’s soul.

With a meaty thwack, the nightmare’s organic fist sank into Dan’s gut. He winced at the impact, at the sharp pains in his gut, and the shallowness of his own breath. The nightmare hit him again, and Dan let out a breathless gasp of pain. It hit him a third time, and he tasted bile as he emptied the sparse contents of his stomach. The nightmare dropped Dan at that point, letting him fall unceremoniously into a pool of his own vomit.

Dan felt tears on his face- but he wouldn’t break. Only I will remain. He stood again, finding the courage to fix his gaze on the nightmare that had once been Brutus. Dan repeated his master’s lesson against fear, but instead of a Jedi’s clear-headedness, he felt anger- and that anger began to grow into hate. As soon as Dan’s rage built within him, flames suddenly burst forth all around the edges of the sparring ring. He could see, illuminated by the fire, purge troopers of the 411th, but their armor was gouged, burned, and twisted, marked by the same Jarvashqiine ritual markings that covered Brutus’ mangled body.

The purge troopers broke the silence, breaking into a haunting chant in Mando’a, one Dan had heard many times on Allst Prime, in the holds of gunships as the men had descended into the field. They sang, a chorus of voices that came together in the roar of a Krayt Dragon, as if the language of the Jedi’s ancient enemy would wound him. Dan clenched his fists until they hurt. He wouldn’t let them intimidate him.

Dan swung at the nightmare of Brutus, striking its bare-bone jaw. His knuckles went bloody, and he was certain he’d hurt himself more than the nightmare. It retaliated, cracking the side of his head with its metal limb. The chanting grew louder. Dan kicked out at the nightmare’s leg from the ground, landing a solid hit on the side of its knee. It buckled, and Dan saw an opportunity to scramble up to his feet again- but the nightmare’s hand caught his ankle. When Dan felt blood begin to run down his leg, he knew it was the metal hand.

The nightmare dragged Dan across the ground toward itself. The chanting became more frenzied, as if the shadows outside the flames thirsted for death. Dan was flipped over, and the nightmare’s organic hand clamped around his neck, and it squeezed. He tried to pry its grip loose, but stuck in the form of a child, his efforts were fruitless. The nightmare slowly began to sink its bladed metal fingers into Dan’s chest. The chanting reached a fever pitch. Dan felt the monster tear his heart out, and he screamed.

---

He awoke with his heartbeat pounding behind his eyes, his teeth clenched, and every muscle in his body tensed up to fight. His frenzied fervor was greeted only by a dark, empty room. It did little to calm him. The whoosh of an automatic door was a welcome distraction, presenting a welcome alternative to being left alone with nothing but his own thoughts.

“Armory, now.” The black-clad figure in his doorway commanded. A purge trooper, he recognized. It was impossible to tell if it was the same one that had brought him to this room. He stood up from his bed, taking the time to eye the trooper’s armor- no familiar unit markings that he could see- and to inspect his own sorry state. The lightning scars were still fresh, but no marks from cybernetic fingers ripping into his heart. He breathed a small sigh of relief.

When the fear is gone, only I will remain.

The nightmare had left him shaken, but as the shakiness passed, a new sense of clarity took its place. He remembered what he’d thought in the torture chamber, before Kedoa had broken him. If he could mend even one of the broken souls that were now his Brothers and Sisters, show them the pointless, self-destructive nature of their ways, he would succeed. It would take time and patience, and a willingness to step further into the dark than he would have believed possible. But he would do it. He would endure, as he always did.

The Fifth Brother looked at the black-armored soldier, and found some piece of the General he’d once been. He straightened his back, squared his jaw, and rolled his shoulders, and for once, the Force seemed to flow through him in the right way. Like the crystal-cold waters of a creek, it washed over his being. There was no anger to it, as there had been when it had rolled off of the other Inquisitors, no belching flames of wrath. It was simply there, as natural as the oceans surrounding the fortress. The Inquisitorius may have been a beacon of the Dark Side, but the Force- the true Force- was still on Nur, in the seas, the birds and the fish, the currents and eddies of life itself. And life was stronger than the dark. It would overtake it, in time- this unnatural construction of durasteel would rust, and be washed away into the waves. Life always found a way.

“I’m ready,” He told the trooper. Life always found a way, and he would do the same.

[San Har Jasta]

House Of The Rising Fire
The Triumph

Brutus sat himself down on the medbay bed. He still wore his undershirt, yet without the familiar weight of his armor, he felt naked. The 411th’s chief medical officer was unique, to say the least. Her name was Kana Vai, a Kaminoan now forced to serve alongside the army her people had created. Still, having knowledge of the clones made her an excellent medical officer for an all-clone division.

Brutus didn’t really care for non-clones, but Kana had managed to earn his trust- even if she had only the barest minimum of his respect. Due to his reckless nature, he had seen the Triumph’s medical bay many a time. And this was one of those times.

The Kaminoan had given a stern glare to Brutus when she’d seen his injuries. He didn’t have anything to say back. Brutus knew what Kana meant. She had always said that his anger was too strong, and that one day he would pay for it. Were Kana the gloating type, she might’ve said ‘I told you so’.

“We will address the respiratory injuries first,” Kana said in the smooth, ethereal voice all Kaminoans seemed to have. Brutus gave a slight nod and laid back onto the surgery table. Kana began assembling a collection of medical supplies. The first thing Brutus saw was the anesthetic.

“This will help, but you will feel some discomfort,” Kana told him.

Brutus merely nodded. Speaking was an effort that he didn’t have the energy for. And it wasn’t like he was a stranger to pain.

---

“It’s going to take some getting used to,” said Brutus. The procedure had been a slog to get through, but it was finally over, and he could breathe easy again- literally. “Thank you, doctor.”

At first Brutus’ new metallic voice caught him off guard at first. His gratitude was not something that was thrown around easily- only his finest soldiers recieve his thanks. Some thought Brutus was too hard on his men, but he’d always believed too much positivity could make people a little too comfortable, and make them stop trying at anything.

“I am only partially finished, CT-6264,” Kana spoke, gesturing towards the stump where Brutus’ arm had been. Hearing his ID number with a CT prefix instead of CC stung a little. He had enjoyed his time as a Commander. His men had been exemplary under his command, Brutus had been exemplary without someone watching his every move or bossing him around.

As Kana began fitting a basic prosthetic on, Brutus reflected over his career. He couldn’t fool himself. He was never in charge. Brutus had always had someone watching him, ordering him. That was a clone’s lot in life. Under his command, he had allowed his men to do what they wanted. Brutus had been able to do what he wanted.

Really, Brutus figured, Hernwick should’ve been put in charge. Hernwick had always been in command of the 411th in some small part, because Brutus had listened to him. Hernwick was a good officer and a good man, and Brutus regreted never bothering to thank him. Doing it now would be trivial. As Brutus was no longer a Commander, giving his gratitude to Hernwick wouldn’t mean as much.

None of this would’ve happened if Brutus had killed Dan. The decision to let the Jedi live loomed over him like a dark cloud over a roofless home. But when Brutus recalled the moment, he felt free. The choice had been his. Dan was surely alive somewhere. The Inquisitors would keep him alive until he wasn’t useful. And Dan didn’t break easily. At least, Brutus hoped he didn’t.

No other clones had disobeyed orders as often as Brutus. The others, they followed orders and did what needed to be done for the Repub- Empire. But Brutus had constantly gone his own way. He worked hard to be remembered when he died. Not as another copy of Jango Fett. But as Brutus. He wanted that for his men, not for them, but for himself. So he could be remembered as the man who didn’t let his comrades die for nothing.

He was using their deaths as a way to combat his greatest fear.

---

After his new cybernetic arm was fully installed, he sat through a few simple tests under Doctor Vai’s guidance. Grabbing a datapad, reflex testing with a needle, and flexing each joint in turn. Brutus’ mind began to wander. He wondered why he was so different from other clones, even those in the 411th. His fiery anger and frequent disobedience was far removed from the perfect soldier. Brutus let out a sigh. He really didn’t like dealing with Kaminoans more than he had to. But, if anyone could answer his question, it would be a cloner.

“Doc, why am I so angry all the time?” Brutus asked Kana. “Doesn’t seem to happen as much with other clones.”

Kana’s large eyes blinked. Brutus figured she would raise an eyebrow if she had any eyebrows to raise. Damn freakish aliens, he thought.

“It was not unheard of for aberrations to manifest in units grown from Fett’s genes. Perhaps some part of your brain wasn’t developed properly during growth, causing your emotions to affect you more than most. There is no way of knowing without a detailed brain scan,” Said Kana. Brutus bristled at the way she spoke about him and his brothers as units, as if they were just products to be made and sold. Even a disgraced, exiled, blue-eyed Kaminoan was superior to a lab-grown person, a product, in their minds.

“Fine, scan me.” Brutus ordered. His desire for answers still outweighed his indignation, for the time being.

“I cannot. Republic vessels have neither the necessary equipment for a comprehensive brain scan, nor the genetic records of Fett for comparison,” Kana replied, clinical as ever. “If you want to understand yourself, CT-6264, you will need to return to Kamino.”

Brutus let out yet another sigh. “Fine.” He began to leave the medical room, but stopped in the doorway. “You’re coming to Kamino with me. This will be a covert mission- I doubt the new Commander would allow this. When the opportunity arises, I’ll get a shuttle.”

Kana gave a simple nod. Brutus figured her own thirst for knowledge- and whatever other goals a Kaminoan could have- outweighed her loyalty to the Empire. Brutus headed back to the bridge. Soon, his questions would have answers, and then, he’d be back to killing Jedi.

[Okayanos]

Fortress Inquisitorius
Nur

A Nu-1 shuttle slowly descends from the skies of Nur heading towards one of the landing pads. Once the shuttle had landed the ramp opened up with Bimi stepping out and heading towards the entrance of the base. When she got into the base, one of the Purge Troopers stopped her.

"What business do you have here?" The Purge Trooper asked.

"I am agent Bimi." Bimi introduced herself.

"I am currently on an investigation under the direct orders of the ISB."

"You may proceed." The Purge Trooper said as he stepped out of the way and allowed Bimi to continue to walk down the hallways.

Bimi soon pulled out the bracelet found on Ilum and began searching for a Inquisitor to speak with.
---
Training Hall

As the two thick black steel doors hissed open, parting in the middle and sliding opposite ways, Barriss slowly entered, observing the large Imperial banners hanging from the large square room. Decorating each wall were weapons of various make and model, many of which wielded by the Purge Troopers of the Inquisitorius. For the first time since her return from Odessen, she was wearing her normal armor, her lightsabers clipped on both sides of her belt. Standing at the center of the room was her Sister, Kedoa.

The Third Sister was pacing back and forth, the Zabrak's gaze fixated upon the floor on which she tread, the clack of her boots against the metal tiles sending an ominous echo up the dimmed chamber's seemingly nonexistent ceiling. Her own form-fitting uniform was also adorned in her typical blackened, lightweight armor - sleek, reflective shoulder guards marked with the sigils of the Empire, and a breastplate to match. Her cloak was shed upon the floor.

Kedoa's newly-acquired saberstaff was already drawn, clutched tightly in her right hand. It was more or less a new prototype recently adopted by the Inquisitorius itself; a simple but elegant design, featuring a shorter hilt and a rune-etched crescent guard.

As Barriss entered, her pacing came to a stop, and Kedoa glanced over to give her fellow Inquisitor an introspective glare.

"You certainly took your time."

Barriss gave her no reply, only continued her walk towards the Third Sister. The Mirialan's eyes made contact with hers and her eyebrow rose as her lips tightened. Barriss's eyes shot down to her hand, which was wrapped tight in it. A new design, one that may possibly be made the standard weapon for all Inquisitors. She had hoped not since she had grown accustomed to the twin Makashi-focused hilts. They felt right in her hands, felt like they belonged now. They were hers and no others.

In a quiet, near hushed tone as she came within arms distance of her fellow Inquisitor, she spoke. "My apologies, dear Sister. Shall we begin?"

Kedoa smirked, stifling a chuckle as she flourished the saber hilt in her hand. "Let's see this progress of yours, shall we?" she stated, before stepping back a few feet. Third Sister assumed a readying stance, but keeping her weapon deactivated for the time being. "Your move, dear Sister."

Barriss's corner of her mouth rose slightly, indicating that she had been pleased by Third Sister's deference to her. The First Sister took a few slow steps back, keeping eye contact with her, her head lowering slightly. With a quick thrust outwards of her arms, her twin lightsabers ignited. She rose them both to her face, holding them for a moment before twirling them back to her sides in typical Makashi fashion. Barriss' legs bent down at the knee as she sprung forward, contorting her body in a twisting fashion, her blades whining in a quick twirl of crimson light, Barriss herself letting out a guttural shriek. As her feet came to touch back down closely in front of her fellow Sister, she thrusted both blades forward, aiming right at her chest.

Barriss' attack however, floundered, allowing Kedoa to effortlessly reel herself out of harm's way, the twin blades passing directly over the Third Sister's head. Her movements, despite the First Sister's error leaving her wide open, were almost blindingly quick. From below, out of her new saberstaff came a single glimmering red blade springing to life for the first time.

With a low hiss, Kedoa swung her blade out in a single deft swipe, slashing for her mid-section.

As the shock of her attack missing set in, the battle shifted to slow motion before her very eyes. Though her blades missed through the Third Sister's sheer agility, the First Sister's eyes remained in control, remained following her target even as she pulled her defense back to reset and prepare for the incoming counter-attack.

Barriss' audibly groaned as she pushed her hands downward and pulled her body back slightly, as much as the time would allow. As Kedoa's blades came close to her, Barriss's blade met with it first, the two lightsabers crackling and sparking against one another. The First Sister snarled as she locks in with her Sister. "So close, sister.." She said, growling as she pushed the blade away from hers and stepped forward into a spin that would bring both of her lightsabers down across the Inquisitor's right shoulder to her left hip.

Third Sister had thankfully seen the attack coming, and her subsequent attempt to bound backwards in the nick of time spared her from being outright cleaved in half. However, Barriss' twin blades were too close to dodge completely. Kedoa swung her saber's single blade out to meet the incoming blow and perhaps deaden the force of her attack. A flash of light came as their blades crashed together, followed by a crackling sound as they scraped across the Third Sister's own. She attempted to push against the vicious attack, but found one of the First Sister's blades slipping free and slicing into Kedoa's arm.

She would have screamed in pain, but interestingly enough, the Third Sister merely growled as she regained her footing. Even as a tongue of smoke trickled from her forearm and the smell of burning flesh filled the room, Kedoa composed herself, and ignited the second blade of her saberstaff.

With a swift transition to Juyo, Third Sister swiftly lunged at Barriss before she could attack again. She twirled her new weapon in a whirlwind of death within her own hands, swiftly striking at her opponent's center of mass.

As the Third Sister stepped back after the less-than-ideal strike against her, Barriss analyzed her as she shifted to a new style, the other side of her lightsaber igniting. Her fellow sister's lunge was swift and sudden, almost as fast as a snap of the finger. In milliseconds of the incoming attack, Barriss recognized the style as a variation of the heavy offense-influenced Djem So. Realizing that attempting to parry this savage strike remaining in her Makashi form would end badly for her and understanding that her practice of Soresu would come up short in it's response, she had no choice but to attempt to use her own agility to her advantage. As the blade neared her, Barriss contorted her body backwards, bending at her knees and throwing her hips back as she attempted to duck under the strike.

With her eyes opened wide, she watched as the red flash of light darted right over her, missing her body entirely as she slung herself away. Lifting her body back up from the dodged attack, Barriss smiled as she deactivated her blades and extended her fingers. She reached deep within herself as she pooled her hatred, her anger, her fury at the Third Sister. She let out an audible growl as powerful blue lightning snapped out of her fingers, traveling quickly towards her fellow Inquisitor.

Third Sister rolled to a stop on one knee, having opted to carry herself fully through the vicious lunge that had barely missed its mark. When Barriss resorted to such Force-based attacks, however, Kedoa did not retaliate with her saber, but her own hand.

The blue lightning crashed upon her with a force that left the Zabrak's flowing black hair flowing outward. Though difficult for Barriss to see on account of her unruly torrent of lightning, a grin formed on Kedoa's face as it all began to coalesce in a vibrant ball of crackling electricity in her open palm. In hindsight, it may have been ill-judged to tread on what could easily be considered her stomping ground...

But not one to deny such a challenge of raw power in the Force, Third Sister slowly rose to her feet, and reciprocated the building energy in her hand with her own cascade of violet lightning, exploding outward into the room.

Barriss's eyes widened as she quickly ignited her lightsabers, bringing them up to form an "X" just in time to meet the furious flood of bolts surging right at her. As the lightsabers absorbed the counter-strike, the First Sister growled in frustration as she whipped her lightsabers aside, performing a graceful spin as the last of the lightning flung away from her harmlessly. As her spin returned her to face Kedoa, the First Sister sprinted quickly at the Third Sister. Jumping forward, she threw her lightsabers over her head and, upon reaching effective distance, brought them down over her, hoping to slash right through her as her anger and hatred devoured her.

Initially, the Third Sister stood her ground as her opponent leapt into the air. She braced her saber horizontally, seemingly prepared to meet the incoming blow head-on, but at the last second dove forward. Kedoa passed right below her, the twin blades missing by a hair and carving into the metal floor with a shower of sparks. She rolled to a halt yet again.

"Don't let your anger make you reckless, Sister..."

Kedoa could have struck for Barriss' back as she landed. But instead, she raised an open palm, merely attempting to telekinetically shove her into the wall.

As Kedoa's words only served to anger her further, her Sister's force attack swept her off of her feet, her lightsabers barely remaining within her grasp by the force of it. With a loud cracking sound, Barriss's body collided with the steel wall, sending waves of pain through her body as she collapsed down to the ground. Breathing heavily as she rose, her eyes widened as all of her emotions crashed down upon her, including the pain. She opened her mouth wide as the Force collided with the emotions, producing a heavy and shattering scream deep from within, the waves of the sound coming to bear directly onto the Third Sister.

Kedoa quickly found herself being slowly pushed back by the wave, as the smooth steel floor left little room for her boots to get any traction. The shriek was ear-splitting, gnawing away at any of her attempts to focus on bringing up a defensive barrier. For a time, she withstood the wave head-on, bringing up her free arm in a vain attempt to shield her face from the First Sister's rage. Her ears rang, the shrill tone that followed rumbling ceaselessly within her head, almost drowning out the very scream that caused it.

Finally, she mustered her own resilience and anger. Reeling her other arm back, Kedoa hurled her saberstaff outward, sending the double-bladed weapon singing through the air at breakneck speed towards her foe.

Through her blind anger and frustration and through the screech of the amplified siren bellowing from her throat, the First Sister saw a twirling lightsaber, resembling a disc as it spiraled, thundering towards her. Engaging every muscle in her legs, she threw all of her power into her lower body. She was barely able to escape the wrath of the Third Sister's blade as she ducked under, the crimson light singing some of the locks of her jet black hair away. Barriss tucked into a roll off to the left side, coming back to her feet after a single rotation. She quickly deactivated her lightsabers as she was also placing them in their holders in her belt. Had the timing been off, she could have easily sliced herself in half with the twirling motions. She knew what she was doing and fully trusted the skills she had accumulated not just in her career as a Jedi, but as her new calling as an Inquisitor. With one foot forward and the other behind her for support, she leveled her open hands to Kedoa and unleashed a ruthless storm of blue lightning, surging and crackling towards her In it's custom jagged formations.

Forgetting the thrown saberstaff that had subsequently embedded itself into the wall at the far end of the room, Kedoa threw both hands up in a second attempt to catch the brunt of the First Sister's lightning. Though her use of Tutaminis was somewhat effective, her hands alone were only able to absorb so much of the unbridled power that came barreling towards her. For a moment, the Third Sister felt every inch of her being seize up as the rest of Barriss' lightning crashed upon her body.

In contrast to the effects her own lightning had upon Barriss during their previous session of training, however, a steady, pained growl spilled from Kedoa's lips. But rather than being swept away by this tidal wave, the Third Sister remained standing. Even as she felt bits of her skin burn and a dollop of blood steadily trickle from her nose, she endured it all as if being turned into a lightning rod was but another trivial session of self-inflicted torture - a testament to her kind's resilience.

And for a moment, as she fought to form a twisted grin upon her face, it almost seemed like Kedoa was enjoying every minute of it...

The sheer amount of energy that built in her hands, however, was matched only by the hate that steadily came to a boil within the Third Sister's weak, pathetic excuse for flesh. As her growl grew to a furious roar, Kedoa mustered every bit of her strength, and turned the absorbed energy upon its foe. From her hands exploded another torrent of violet arcs, crashing against the First Sister's and threatening to consume them both.
---
Armory

"Leave the power cell exposed at the pommel." The Fourth Sister instructed. She loomed behind the Fifth Brother as he hunched over the Armory's workbench. The newly joined Inquisitor was in a state of deep concentration, using the Force to assemble the tiny, delicate internal components of his new lightsaber hilt. The Fourth Sister found it to be a bittersweet sight. A new, prototype saber design had been taken up, and would soon be the standard for the Inquisitorius. When it was, the workbench, tools, and components would be scrapped, and new members would no longer construct their own weapons.

“Such a waste,” She thought. Forcing an Inquisitor to build a new lightsaber- or, at least, to modify the one they had wielded as a Jedi- reinforced the notion that their old life was left behind. By building it himself, the new Inquisitor proved that he had fully cast aside the trappings of the Jedi. If they started handing out identical lightsabers to every being that came to their number, the Inquisitorius would only weaken, as their ranks swelled with unworthy garbage. “Like Draay.” The Fourth Sister grimaced behind her mask. Her anger welled up unbidden, and she knew that it wasn’t solely from thinking of the Second Brother. She felt the mistake in the Fifth Brother’s lightsaber just as the new Inquisitor seemed to realize it himself.

“Your crystal is mis-aligned,” She said, only slightly louder than a whisper. A shard of ice-cold dread embedded itself in the Fifth Brother’s mind at her will, freezing him in place for a fraction of a second. When he had the composure to work again, he was swift to correct the error. The sight pleased her. Every Inquisitor knew the old adage about fear being the root of the Dark Side, but few of them were capable of pulling strength from their fear without it growing into hatred.

The crimson gemstone slowly rotated in its housing, until it slotted into place much more securely than before. “These synthetic crystals are different from natural ones,” The Fifth Brother commented, now fully confident that his new lightsaber’s crystal matrix was stabilized.

“Yes,” The Fourth Sister answered after a period of silence. She could have gone on about the nature of those differences, how an artificial crystal affected the balance and cutting power of the blade, but her words stayed in her mind. There would be no benefit in giving the Fifth Brother knowledge that he had not asked for. And more importantly, it would distract him from his work.

The construction of the Fifth Brother’s lightsaber continued with a distinct lack of conversation. He realized the purpose of the exposed pommel when he began to attach the two halves of his double-bladed weapon together- the power cells would link together, improving the flow of energy to the blade by a small amount. The Fourth Sister believed that any small advantage was worth taking. The newly-completed dualsaber had a vicious look to it, with spiked guards at each emitter and a grip of deep red leather at the center. The Fourth Sister could tell that the weapon had been purposely made to look evil, by one whose commitment to the Dark Side was not entirely solid. She didn’t care about such things, so she didn’t say anything.

The Fifth Brother held the black-plated hilt, familiarizing himself with its weight in both the staff and paired saber forms. When he was satisfied, he clipped both halves of the lightsaber to the back of his belt and put on the new helmet he’d taken from the armory. His armor had a similar flowing nature to the Fourth Sister’s, but where hers was almost regal in design, his was plain and unadorned, with no glowing red visor on the helmet. “The sparring arena, then? To test it out?” He asked.

The Fourth Sister responded only with a faint nod before the two Inquisitors left. There was a kind of reverence directed towards them- the troopers and technicians stationed in the fortress always stepped aside when they saw the Inquisitors passing. The Fifth Brother found it strange, to be so feared. He began to understand why a broken soul would enjoy such treatment.

Stranger still was the presence of one who did not fear the Inquisitors. The Fifth Brother sensed it, like a flare in the darkness. And if he could sense it, he knew the Fourth Sister could as well. She was unreadable as the two of them began to approach the fearless one, and as they came face-to-face with the Chiss Agent, Bimi.

“You want something?” The Fourth Sister asked, though she knew the answer already. The Fifth Brother was content to let the more senior Inquisitor take the lead.

I am looking for Kress." Bimi answered looking up towards the fourth sister.

"I would like to ask him some questions regarding the recent incident on Ilum. Do you know where he is?"

“In the fortress,” The Fourth Sister replied, unhelpfully. She knew Kress was still lurking about the fortress, somewhere. His presence in the Force was like a wild animal, reeking of blood, death, and barely-contained savagery. She preferred to avoid him.

The Fifth Brother stepped forward, if only to keep his extremely untalkative Sister from Imperial Intelligence. “He’s either in his quarters or training. No new recruits for him to break in right now,” He said. “What’s he being investigated for, anyway?”

"That is classified information." Bimi said now looking towards the Fifth Brother.

"The ISB prefers that my mission remains a secret."

The two Inquisitors looked at each other behind their masks. The Fifth Brother hadn’t been around the Fourth Sister for long, but he could sense her intent through the Force. She could’ve wrenched her way into the agent’s mind, break her into talking. He reached through the Force, projecting a calming influence to her, subtly enough that she may not have noticed.

The Fifth Brother waited, then breathed a mental sigh of relief when he saw the Fourth Sister’s shoulders relax. He wasn’t sure if she was less attuned to the Dark Side than the other Inquisitors, or simply conditioned into obedience. Nonetheless, it was the first step on a long road.

“Fine, keep your secrets,” said The Fifth Brother. “I’ll tell Kress about you if we find him.” The two Inquisitors began to head toward the training arena. The Fifth Brother wanted to offer to show Bimi the way, in case Kress would be there, but he held his tongue. An Inquisitor would never offer assistance to another being, and he was an Inquisitor now.

Upon entering the training arena, the Fifth Brother found two of his siblings already locked into a frantic duel. It couldn't have been more different from the measured sparring in the Jedi temple. The First and Third Sisters seemed to be trying to kill each other more than they were trying to improve. Perhaps that was a consequence of the rivalries that ran between all of the Inquisitors. The Fifth Brother knew that he would only be free of such enmity temporarily- by simply being seen in the company of the Fourth Sister, he was already likely to be targeted by whichever Brothers or Sisters disliked her.

The Fourth Sister was behind him, towering and statuesque as if she'd always been there. She crossed her arms over her chest, watching the other Inquisitors as they hurled lightning every which way. The wave of anger that emanated from her was tangible, but leaned less toward rage and more toward disgust and irritation, sheer resentment that the other Sisters would have the gall to take the sparring arena from her, when she had a new recruit to break. But as quickly as the annoyance came, it was quelled just as fast, and the Fourth Sister became like a statue once more.

The Fifth Brother was intrigued by his fellow Inquisitor's constant reigning-in of her own fury. It was so different from the hatred that consumed Barriss and Kedoa both. "Looks like we'll have to wait," He offered.

"Yes," The Fourth Sister replied. The Fifth Brother didn't expect he'd get any more out of her. But then- "They'll finish soon," said the statue that stood over him.

He looked up at her. "How do you know that?" The Fifth Brother asked.

"They will," The Fourth replied. She felt the torrents of the Force that swirled between Barriss and Kedoa, the Dark Side that came forth like a burning wind, scattering ashes in its wake. Only one of them was carried along by its currents. The other was fighting a losing battle.

As the two unrelenting waves of electricity crashed and sparked against one another, Barriss grinded her teeth as it took all of her strength to withstand her Sister's stronger response to her display of Force power. The longer she held the current, the weaker she grew. She began to whimper as her arms began to shake, her feet that were once planted firmly were now sliding back. The strength that she once had was beginning to drain and Kedoa could sense it. As the purple bolts began to overwhelm her, Barriss turned her face sideways and cringed in pain as the blue storm she had once conjured faltered and broke, the lightning beginning to devour her. She followed the Third Sister's example and shut closed her lips, giving everything she had to avoid screaming out in agony. As the violet waves licked her skin and held her tight within its embrace, she stiffened her body as it tried to convulse. She simply maintained eye contact.

What should honestly had been a mere sparring match had escalated into a full-blown battle between their strength in the Force. But all things considered, Kedoa seemed somewhat pleased with the First Sister's endurance thus far. Not long ago, such an attack would have left her doubled over on the floor, howling in anguish. And here she was, not only standing up to it, but even going so far as attempting to beat the Third Sister at what could easily be her own game. Though just as she could feel Barriss falter, so too was her own fortitude beginning to waver. amidst the storm of electricity that wracked both of them with horrible pain.

But still, the Third Sister forced herself with every ounce of her being to persevere, using the agony that came with every arc that danced on and off her own body as fuel for her anger - for each laborious movement that her seizing muscles could attempt to make. She continued channeling the terrifying power of the Dark Side against her foe, knowing full well that it was only a matter of time. Which of them would be the first to break, she wondered...

Kedoa returned Barriss' stare with an almost maniacal gaze of her own, her previously fiery-red eyes now seeming to match the violet arcs of lightning that coursed through her veins.

Even though Barriss fought with every bit of herself to maintain the disciplined nature of her fellow sister, she could feel her own will beginning to break. She wanted to scream, wanted to shriek out at the monumental and unbelievable amount of pain she was putting her body through. Even through all of the training she underwent, holding against this level of fury-induced power was something no-one could withstand for very long. She had to break her opponent's concentration. Standing here would only ensure a quick defeat. Fighting against her own body, Barriss's shaking hands reached down, struggling to remain under control, and quickly grabbed her lightsaber hilts. With a pained snarl upon her face, she managed to ignite them both and lifted them up, hoping that it would be enough to fend off the attack against her.

It wasn't enough. The lightning danced across her blades as they shook in her hands but made no impression upon it, continuing to swirl around the First Sister. Barriss, through the sheer pain, dropped to her knees. She was breaking.

Kedoa had almost lost track of time in her moment of euphoria that came with letting loose the unshackled power Barriss had drawn out of her. She had become numb to the throbbing pain that shot up her entire body. For a moment, it seemed the only thing that could stay her hand was to see the First Sister break. She already trembled before her, and now it'd only be a matter of time before she crumbled...

But suddenly, something gave her pause. Perhaps it was the fire and rage in her heart finally dying down? Or the many injuries she sustained finally sapping the Inquisitor of all her remaining energy? Whatever it was, Barriss found the lightning coming to a close, and the excruciating pain that came with it going away in an instant. At the end of the room, Kedoa stood hunched over, her arms practically dangling freely as she caught her own breath. A pause followed, seeing the Third Sister glance down to the burns that riddled her own body, and the sizzling gash upon her arm that continued to fester.

"Hah..." she stood up straight, pushing a frayed lock of hair from her face. "Perhaps we got a little...carried away, hmm...?"

Kedoa cleared her throat and, sensing something, craned her neck to the entrance of the training arena. She gave Dan and Aragwen an inquisitive glare.

"An audience...?"

"Yes," The Fourth Sister replied, as soft-spoken as ever. She saw no need to tell Kedoa why she had need of the training arena- the fact that she did was enough. Anything more was... wasteful.

The Fifth Brother stepped forward, again taking over for the untalkative Sister accompanying him. "We needed a training arena, and you two took this one." He avoided mentioning that they should've known he'd be building his lightsaber today, and would have to test it. The Fifth Brother told himself that his silence had nothing to do with the fact that it was Kedoa he was talking to. "Are you finished, or will you be fighting more?"

"They're done," Said the Fourth Sister. Kedoa's pain was like acidic bile on her tongue. The Third Sister wasn't as masochistic as Barriss was, so it was unlikely she'd fight through such agony.

As the onslaught of pain and light recessed from dancing across her body, Barriss slowly rose from her unintended position of submission and also bent her neck to face the two Inquisitors that were viewing the fight. She looked back to Kedoa and nodded, signalling to allow these two their time to prepare and practice. As the Mirialan approached the Fourth Sister and Fourth Brother, she took her time moving forward, both for style as well as for the injuries she sustained. The Third Sister's powerful push that sent her flying into the wall did some damage to her and it would need to be addressed by bacta before she could deploy to a new mission. She thoroughly enjoyed the battle, though. It was no simple spar session, it was a full fight, a fight that neared to the death. That is how you prepare. You fight like your life depended on it, because it did. It was only by Kedoa's will that she did not kill Barriss, despite the fight she put up.

"Impressive." She said, eyeing the new Inquisitor from his head to his feet, Kedoa approaching behind her. She walked closer. "I will enjoy sparring with this one, someday." She said with a smile, hiding the pain under a cool facade.

Kedoa was largely silent as she stepped up to their two spectators, seemingly ignoring her own grave injuries. To show pain was to show weakness. She reached out with her more unscathed arm towards one of the arena's walls. The crackling saberstaff she had thrown earlier, still embedded in the thick layer of steel, was promptly ripped out of the now molten-red gash that had been carved into it. The weapon deactivated mid-air, before soaring safely into the palm of the Third Sister's hand.

"Indeed," was all she initially said, in an almost monotone voice. Kedoa momentarily examined the two of her fellow Inquisitors as she passed by - primarily the one she had coerced to the Dark Side herself. For a moment, she assessed him with a blank stare...

"We will continue this...later, then."

With her gaze going back to her burns, Kedoa shuffled out of the door without another word.

The Fifth Brother couldn’t prevent himself from being concerned about the state of the other two Inquisitors- both were barely holding on, and could’ve easily died. And for what? Training? An opportunity to flex their power and demonstrate superiority over the other Inquisitors? Nothing but their own pride? Even as he had touched the Dark Side, the Fifth Brother could not understand why its users were driven to such actions.

His head lowered as the First Sister expressed her wish to spar with him. If what he’d seen today was any indication, it was not an experience he would look forward to.
“You’re not the only one,” He replied to the First Sister. The Fifth Brother had quickly picked up that showing weakness amongst the Inquisitorius was nothing short of suicide.

The Fifth Brother felt Kedoa’s blank stare on him as the First Sister left the room. He didn’t know if he was still afraid of her, now that he’d donned the black armor himself. Time would have to tell.

As soon as the other two Inquisitors took their leave, the Fourth Sister swept forward, her cloak billowing around her. It was hard for her to argue with either of them- with any of her siblings in the Inquisitorius, really. Spineless, she’d been called, when they had first accepted her into their number. It was far preferable to remain overlooked.

The Fourth Sister drew her lightsaber from her belt, letting the oversized blade spring forth and bathe the sparring arena in its crimson glow. All of the power she lacked when it came to resisting the commands of the others, she funneled into her practice with the Force, and with a lightsaber. A weight seemed to lift from the Fifth Brother’s mind as he walked to the end of the arena opposite her. The new one was like her- at his best when he had something to devote all of his attention to, something to drown out the chaos of the world.

The Fifth Brother activated his own saber, and a blade like fire sprung from each end. The Fourth Sister caught a stutter in the ignition sound, a consequence of the focusing lens he’d chosen. But the plasma blades were stable, no aggressive crackling or sparking, and they hummed smoothly as the Fifth Brother twirled the weapon into his opening stance- held in a spear grip rather than quarterstaff, keeping the weapon up at his side with one blade angled toward his opponent, and his feet spread a little wider than his shoulders. He was tensed, but light rather than rooted- prepared to leap into an Ataru attack sequence at a moment’s notice. The Fourth Sister hummed appreciatively at the prospect of sparring another Form IV user.

She raised her own weapon into a Shien opener, raising her lightsaber into a high guard with the blade angled behind herself. Due to the size of her weapon, she kept it over her right shoulder rather than raising it fully above her head. The Fourth Sister kept her feet wide, with her dominant leg back, ready to perform a Form V step-through strike that would make full use of her powerful physique.
“Begin,” She said, louder than a whisper. Without any further words, the lethal dance of lightsaber combat had started.

The Inquisitors’ lightsabers buzzed as they sized each other up. The Fifth Brother inched closer, every muscle in his body a coiled spring. The Fourth Sister held herself statue-still, closing in with small, measured steps, like a Tusk Cat preparing to pounce. She relished the staredown before battle began. In those few tense moments, when the threads of fate began to coil around each combatant, the victor could be decided before weapons were ever drawn.

The Fifth Brother shot toward her, propelled by the power of the Force until he was a blur. He flipped into the air, twisting his dualsaber behind his back and whipping it around toward her in a two-handed strike as his body completed its rotation. The speed and grace with which he performed the maneuver would have impressed even Master Vaidira. Truly, her newest brother was skilled in Ataru. Unfortunately for him, the Fourth Sister was also skilled in Ataru- and she knew how to counter it.

She spun her blade down, intercepting the Fifth Brother’s strike. In classic Shien fashion, she pushed back against him, whipping her saber around for a counterattack, but found herself hitting nothing but the dry, artificial air. The Fifth Brother spun leapt away from her as quickly as he had advanced, pirouetting on one foot before smoothly assuming his opening stance again. The Fourth Sister recognized the technique as the Hawk-Bat Swoop. She didn’t give him a moment of reprieve, whirling her lightsaber over her head as she spun in toward him. The momentum of the spin carried into a low horizontal strike, effectively whipping the heavy blade of her weapon around at blinding speed, until it turned from a shaft of blood-colored plasma to a red streak of light.

The Fifth Brother performed an aerial cartwheel over the arc of her blade. The movement continued through his landing as he transitioned to another spin, bringing around the forward blade of his saberstaff, and swiftly following up with the rear. The Fourth Sister could now clearly sense the movement of the Force through her opponent’s body, how it empowered him beyond his normal physical limits. Some of the Inquisitorius didn’t value force techniques that enhanced oneself, believing them to be symptoms of the teachings of the Jedi. The Fourth Sister did not hold such belief.

The Fifth Brother’s rapid assault hammered against the Fourth Sister’s defense, but she had no intention of remaining passive. As the Force guided her greatsaber’s blade through a series of nimble parties, she began to ascertain the rhythm of her opponent’s attacks. The clashing of blades intensified as the Fourth Sister began to slip counterattacks between the Fifth Brother’s attacks. The disruptive strikes threw his timing off, forcing him onto the defensive. The Fifth Brother couldn’t dodge forever, and the Fourth Sister’s assessment of his defensive technique found it lacking. She drew on the power of the Force and pushed herself to greater speed, coming within millimeters of striking her opponent, were he not capable of matching her pace.

Their blades sparked against each other again and again, until the Force brought the Fourth Sister’s attention to a particularly dense tangle of fate’s threads, one that she could unravel in the way she desired. Through the Force, she saw the Fifth Brother begin to raise his saberstaff upward before he began to move. The Fourth Sister reached out, not for where the saberstaff was, but where it was going to be- and caught the weapon around the middle. The Fifth Brother’s grip remained even as she wrenched the weapon upward, where it couldn’t easily reach her. He would’ve fought back, had he not suddenly found the plasma blade of the Fourth Sister’s saber crackling less than an inch away from his throat.

They froze in place, two figures paused in the middle of a dangerous dance, both breathing heavy, filtered breaths through their helmets. “Not bad,” said the Fourth Sister. “But Shii-cho?” In so few words, she so clearly voiced her disapproval for the first form of lightsaber combat. Basics could only get one so far, after all.

“I haven’t fought saber to saber in a long time. It was enough for dealing with blasters.” The Fifth Brother deactivated his weapon, and the Fourth Sister released it, signaling the end of their duel.

The Fourth Sister made a sound of disapproval as her own blade slid back into the hilt with a hiss. She reached up and pulled her helmet off, once more letting her twin braids of white hair fall down her shoulders. She could breath easier, at last. “Familiar with Shien?” She asked.

“I know what it is. Never learned it, though,” The Fifth Brother replied. Seeing the face of another of the Inquisitors gave him pause- he was certain he’d seen her at the Jedi Temple once- though that felt like a lifetime ago, like the experiences belonged to someone else.

“You are now. Helmet off,” She ordered. The Fifth Brother complied, letting his durasteel helm drop to the floor. It felt wrong to let his face- Dan’s face- be shown within the Fortress. He was quite certain that he looked like a mess. “-and show me Ataru. No one else practices it.” The Fourth Sister’s continued demand brought him back to the present. Of course, the Dark Side would never let him learn something new for free- this was to be an exchange. He nodded, and re-lit his saber. So long as it was the two of them practicing, he could forget what exactly he’d gotten himself into, for a moment at least.

[The Imperial Republic]

The Arrival to Mek-Sha, Part One


Dramatis Personae
Martius Shan, Human Jedi Master
Vrudun Tumara, Zabrak Jedi Knight
Jace Tholme, Human Jedi Knight
Afon Ekker, Human Jedi Knight
Rhys Aatahl, Miraluka Jedi Padawan
Tuka Tisrygian, Human Jedi Padawan
Kalixinos Sarr, Former Inquisitor

---

Martius spent quite some time discussing recent events with the hologram of his ancestor: from the tribulations of the Clone Wars, to the tragedy of the Jedi Purge, to his run-in with Darth Marr and concerns of the tomb of the ancient Sith-King, to their near destruction on Odessen at the hands of the Empire, doing his best to summarize them as succinctly as possible. Unfortunately however he was not quite succinct enough, and shortly before he could finish recounting recent history, an alarm sounded notifying those aboard that they had arrived at their destination and were dropping out of hyperspace.

Apologizing to Satele's holoimage, Martius deactivated the holocron and made his way to the cockpit; figuring Afon likely needed more rest, he sat down in the pilot's seat and guided the Last Resort down to the hollowed out asteroid that was home to the station of Mek-Sha. After touching down on one of the station's landing pads, Martius hit the ship's intercomm and informed the others: "We've arrived at Mek-Sha; if you plan to venture to the station please stop the passenger lounge for a quick briefing before you head out, otherwise you're more than welcome to remain here and rest if you'd prefer."
After making his way to the passenger lounge and waiting a few minutes for any fellow Jedi who wanted to head out, Martius informed those who came for the briefing: "Thank you for coming, our first order of business here will be to trade ships; the Empire knows the Last Resort and the Vigil now so keeping them is too great a liability. If you all would be willing to help find a buyer for this ship and someone looking to sell another that would be much appreciated, though be warned: you're not likely to find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy anywhere in the sector. I'd recommend hiding your lightsabers and anything else that might identify you as a Jedi while you're on the station; we weren't welcomed here before the war and I don't imagine we'll have become any more popular with the locals now that we have bounties on our heads. Feel free to grab a change of clothes or any other supplies that the ship's previous owner left behind before you head out, and make sure to keep a commlink with you in case you run into any trouble. If you have any questions about this place please let me know; it's been quite awhile since I was here last but I'm happy to answer what I can."

On board both the Last Resort and the Vigil, a light electronic ringing signaled that the ships were being contacted by the landing pad. Such transmissions were a routine thing, usually for requesting clearance or maintenance. This time, however, there was something off. It was like there was a twist in the Force, something diverting its flow ever-so-slightly, like a rock bending the flow of a river. The dinging ceased as a holographic form shimmered into existence- a Quermian dressed in billowing robes, with a long hood pulled up around his round head and long, spindly neck. The hologram clasped both sets of hands together as it bent its elongated form down into an elegant bow.

"Ah, exalted masters, it truly honors me to be in your presence, even if only through hologram. When I saw the identification numbers of the ships come in, I could scarcely believe it- but, thank the Force, it’s true! Your arrival has been prophecized, exalted ones. My Lady Ag’derrod foresaw your arrival mere weeks ago, and has awaited your landing anxiously. Would you hear our offer of shelter and protection?”

As Tuka was wondering about what to do with his holey robes in the Vigil, his eyes quickly went to the sudden formation of the hologram. Listening to the Quermian speak made him quickly grow bored of his eloquent and snobby speech. Tuka had never been to Mek-Sha before, but he hoped that not everyone on the station was as unique as this odd sentient.

"..I wouldn't mind listening.", Tuka spoke aloud as he turned to look at the other occupants of the Vigil.

Standing by the comms station, Vrudun Tumara stroked his chin gently as he listened to the Quermian. Nothing about this one or his "Lady Ag'derrod" inspired belief. He turned to see both Beli and Tuka standing there, the Padawan giving forth his opinion on the matter. Surely, the others on the Last Resort heard the message as well, therefore he decided it would be best to consult with the others.

"While an offer of such things would be a comforting sight, the fact that they have predicted our arrival apparently weeks before has me very suspicious on their motives. I suspect a trap, by either this "Lady Ag'derrod" alone or in tandem with the Empire. Beli, remain here with Master Nard and lock down the ship after we leave. I will take the former Inquisitor with me. Padawan, get dressed. We leave for the Last Resort in thirty minutes." Said Vrudun as he made his way to his quarters to attempt to find anything that didn't scream "Jedi Knight" in his apparel.

Before Martius had a chance to answer questions, a peculiar transmission suddenly came through; as the holocomm buzzed to life to reveal a well-dressed Quermian who was far more formal than the riff-raff Martius was accustomed to dealing with on the station. The Jedi Master raised an eyebrow at the fellow’s talk of prophecy and an offer of protection extended by one “Lady Ag’derrod.” He didn’t recognize the name, but such deference on Mek-Sha was typically only paid to crime lords or mercenary leaders and did not inspire much confidence.


"Suffice to say, people of your specific kind are extraordinarily rare, after all of that nastiness three months ago. I hope you understand my meaning." The Quermian spoke again, directly addressing Tuka. The alien's eyes lingered on the padawan, as if he knew more than he was letting on. "That is why Lady Ag'derrod was so anxious for your ships to arrive, and why we of the Blue Harvest want to keep you guarded from prying eyes.- because you and she are, shall we say, cut from the same cloth. And the Force always brings people like you together. Our safehouse is in the Industrial sector, and its doors will be always be open to your kind. Ask for Thaumiel if you arrive."

The Quermian- Thaumiel- started to motion as if signalling to end the transmission, but stopped. "Ah, one more thing- Lady Ag'derrod gave me a specific phrase to be spoken to you. It was, 'Remember Bogden Three'. It will mean something to you. That is all," As quickly as it had appeared, the Quermian's hologram vanished.

Martius listened closely as the Quermian continued, giving the clear sense that this “Lady” was either a Jedi herself or at least Force sensitive. It was the final mention of Bogden Three that particularly piqued Martius’ interest however, as Jace soon pointed out it was indeed the home of a small Jedi chapter house. With the Empire on their tail and the hefty price on their heads, Martius couldn’t help but feel this must be some sort of trap, but at the same time with Bogden Three now in the mix he also had to agree with Jace’s sentiment that they had an obligation to find out what became of the Younglings there, and if they somehow survived, to help them.

If they were to proceed Martius wanted to ensure they did so with the utmost caution, and as he took his own advice and changed out of his singed Jedi robes and into a Zygerrian suit which had once presumably belonged to General Schinata’s husband, he mulled over how to spring this possible trap without falling into it. After changing, he placed his lightsaber in a hidden pouch within his satchel, then joined Jace outside of the ship as they awaited the arrival of the others from the Vigil. Looking to Jace as they waited, Martius asked: “Jace, if you don’t mind my asking, how familiar are you with the chapter house at Bogden Three? Did you train there or only visit?”

Jace turned to Master Shan as he spoke. "No, Master, I visited there briefly on my way to the siege at Saleucami. I'm not very familiar with it at all but I know there was a youngling clan training there." He paused for a moment as Vrudun caught his eye. "Perhaps we should go see the rest of our merry band of outlaws."

Tuka listened and nodded as Vrudun spoke and watched as the Knight went to his quarters. As the hologram directly addressed the Padawan, Tuka met his eyes with suspicion, wondering if this 'Lady Ag'derrod' and her supposed foresight had knowledge about his encounter with the Sith Wraith.

As the transmisson finished and Tuka walked back into the common area, rummaging for something un-Jedi to wear, he began thinking about the phrase. Although he had never personally been to or known anything about Bogden Three, it wouldn't be far fetched to think that the other members of the party could have knowledge about the subject.

After Thaumiel spoke, Jace sprang up to address the others. "Master Shan, I think this is worth checking out. The moon in question, Bogden Three, was the site of a Jedi chapter house. I've been there once, before the war. They trained younglings there." Jace paused for a second, then looked back up, eyes wide open. "Oh no. He said remember Bogden Three. Something terrible must have happened. We should go, if only to find out more about what happened on that moon." Suddenly, Jace's head began to swirl as whispers of the past called out to him for every direction. He called out to the other Jedi as he stumbled out of the main hold. "I don't feel good. I'm going to my quarters to rest for a bit. Talk about it amongst yourselves but don't take too long."

Jace walked into the room he had claimed and sat down on his bunk, clutching his head. Voices swirled around him. "Jace, the clones. Beware!" "Execute the traitor!" "Jedi Tholme, rise as a Knight!" He looked up to see a woman he knew to be dead standing in front of him. She uttered a single word.

"Jace."

Jace gasped. "Master! Is it really you?"

Again the woman spoke, with words as sweet as honey. "I wish it were so. I am but a memory, living on in your heart. You are in a dark place, I can see that. Remember I will always love you. Our bond is unbreakable even by death. When the memories haunt you, think of me."

Jace looked down as he answered with a sob. "Please don't go. Not again."

Her voice came back like an echo on the wind.

"I am always with you."

Looking up, Jace saw the apparition was gone. He was alone. Taking a moment to compose himself, he walked out of his quarters and headed for the ship's ramp. He grabbed his comlink and opened a channel to the Last Resort. "Jace here. I'm heading out to see about this safehouse. Anyone willing to join me meet up outside the ship."


Upon entering his personal quarters aboard the Vigil, Vrudun tore his room apart in his attempt to find anything that could be passable as anything but fugitive Jedi. In his time as a Knight in the warzones of the Clone Wars, he never wore anything but the ancient and mystical robes of the Jedi Order. Brown and white, they stood for the simplistic lifestyle afforded to all members of his Order. They were minimalistic, yet provided everything one would need. When a Jedi came to a village, many knew of these clothes. Some ran to them and cheered as comfort finally arrived for them. Others hid and cursed their existence. But they all could spot a Jedi out of a crowd. Now, their very signature appearance would become nothing more than a death trap for them. With bounties on each of their heads, all it would take would be a starving man, desperate to feed his family, to call in what he saw, if only to collect that money so that his own odds of survival would increase. It was something none of them needed, having so narrowly avoided being slaughtered by the Galactic Empire.

After shedding away the worn tunic, he pulled on a pair of worn cargo pants, once black but now gray, a plain black t-shirt covered by a multi-pocketed jacket. He removed his utility belt of it's contents, such as the capsuled survival rations, his comlink, a holoprojector, and his rebreather and placed them into his jacket and pants pockets. He clipped his lightsaber to one of the pants' belt loops and pulled the jacket down over it. As he walked from his quarters after only a few minutes, he witnessed the former Inquisitor, Kalixinos. "It's time to go. I'm taking you to Master Shan. There, we will see what becomes of you." Said Vrudun, in a friendly manner.

Kalixinos looked up from his arm; in the time since he and Vrudun had last spoken, the Kaleesh had been attending to his own injuries. The stump that was his right forearm wrapped in a bandage, itself already stained with spots of blood.

Putting down the roll of bandages, Kalixinos stood, taking in Vrudun's new outfit. It was a stark contrast to Kalixinos's own, as the Kaleesh was shirtless and otherwise only covered in his mask, pants, and boots. Whereas Vrudun had acquired pockets.

"And aren't we dressed for the occasion! The first Master Jedi I meet in a decade, and look at how swell we are made up; certainly we are to be mistaken for royalty." Kalixinos quipped, "But if this Master Shan is as merciful as you, I should be free. It will be a relief."

Smirking at the Kaleesh's remarks regarding his garments, the Zabrak looked down once more to inspect the unorthodox appearance. The clothing felt odd upon his body, either due to the different materials or perhaps because he just seemed it too different for him. He looked back up to the former Inquisitor.

"Good to see your sense of humor has returned among such a situation." He said, motioning for Kali to rise. Briefly, he also examined the Kaleesh's body. His wound where the forearm once was would need medical care soon and his attire was lacking, but he was getting a second chance to life. He was alive. Which was more than Vrudun could say for Inera, Vaulik, and Dan. Three of their order. Dead and gone. Moved on to the Cosmic Force.

As Kalixinos rose from his seat, Vrudun turned to the two HK-51 combat droids that were guarding him. "New directive. Stay aboard the ship. Keep Master Nardrashtasch safe. Keep Beli safe." He said, hardly waiting to hear the response from the two droids. He turned his head and nodded to Tuka Tisrygian and moved to the ramp. As the three left the ship, Vrudun stopped for a moment and turned his head. He activated the Hush-98 comlink. "Beli, we're moving out. Close the ship, seal her up. The droids'll keep you safe for the most part, but if you get a bad feeling or see anything that looks off, don't hesitate to take off."

"Copy. Please be safe." She said. Vrudun looked over to the two with him, but didn't say a word. "Of course. You too." He said in response, preferring to keep it simple. He shoved the comlink into one of his pockets and continued to the Last Resort, parked not very far away on a separate pad.

Upon reaching Master Shan's ship, Vrudun noticed both Master Shan and Jace Tholme exiting the ship. He raised his hand and waved as they approached.

“I see…” Martius replied to Jace, he had hoped the Jedi had spent long enough on Bogden Three to be able to identify false information about the chapter house should Lady Ag’derrod be lying, but it seemed that was not to be. As Vrudun approached and waved, Martius waved back and when Jace suggested they go and see the others, Martius replied: “Indeed” and approached the disguised Jedi Knight.

As he approached he stated: “Glad to see you all were able to make it here in one piece…” looking over to the wounded Kaleesh prisoner, he could see that was not entirely the case, and asked: “Do you need any medical attention? We don’t have much left, but I’m sure there are some medical supplies on the Last Resort we can spare if you need them.”

Kalixinos was taken aback by Master Shan's kindness, a part of him had quietly accepted the thought that'd he would be executed at this meeting. Even as Shan was inquiring about Kalixinos's health, he still did.

"No," Kalixinos said bluntly, even though he could feel his own anxiety in his stomach, "Not unless you have a hand in there, I doubt there is much you can do for me."

As the conversation was taking place, Tuka slightly stepped away from the group and instead took in his disguise. He was now clad in more bulky clothes with a shoulderpad on his right arm, while he had a red bandana tied to his left upper arm. His midsection was now armored by a small bronze-colored plate, he had also changed his pants. He hoped that his disguise would work, for he was worried what would become of them should they be revealed in such a hive of scum and villany.

Turning back to the group, Tuka looked between all of the present members. "So, what's our next move? Do we go to this 'Lady Ag'derrod'?"

Jace responded quickly to Tuka. "I think so. It's our responsibility to find out what happened on that moon. If no one else agrees, I will go alone." He then moved as if to walk away, hoping to provoke a response from one of the others.

Martius nodded when Kalixinos declined any medical supplies, unfortunately they didn’t have any prostheses among their supplies so there was little they could do to help with his severed limb. When Tuka then joined them and asked what their next move should be, Jace quickly interjected that they needed to find out what happened on Bogden Three and began to move off from the group, stating he would go alone if no one else wanted to join. Martius glanced at him curiously, the speed with which he wanted to go into an unknown and potentially dangerous situation made Martius wonder if perhaps he’d had friends at Bogden Three he was concerned about.

Whatever his reasons, heading into a potential trap with reckless abandon and alone was a recipe for disaster, so Martius replied: “Easy now, you certainly won’t have to go alone, but we should proceed cautiously; there is still a very real possibility that we’re about to walk into a trap.” Looking towards Kalixinos again, Martius continued: “Before we leave however, there is no reason you should have to remain behind here waiting for us. You are free to go if you wish; I apologize we didn’t bring you to the nicest of planets, but it should be a good place for you to remain out of sight of the Inquisitors for awhile at least. Alternatively, if you wish to remain with us, I would be happy to extend you an offer to rejoin the Order. The journey out of darkness can be a difficult one, and I can’t even imagine what horrors the Inquisitors must’ve subjected you to, but I and my fellow Jedi would be honored to help you back to the path of the light in whatever way we can should you wish to seek it. "

"Thank you, Master Shan," Kalixinos said giving a short bow to the Master Jedi, "But I must decline your offer. My time with the Jedi Order has long been over, it is time I walk my own path, alone. But as I promised Vrudun, I shall promise to you, I will never raise my saber against you. I wish you and your order luck, Master Shan."

Kalixinos turned his attention to Vrudun, entirely relieved that the Jedi had been truthful and that this was not his execution.

"My lightsaber, my friend." The Kaleesh said, holding out his remaining hand to receive his belonging.

With a solemn smile, Vrudun approached Kalixinos, pulling the former Inquisitor's lightsaber from one of his cargo pockets. With the hilt laying in both of his hands, he extended it out to him.

"This belongs with you. May the Force be with you, Kalixinos."

Kalixinos took his lightsaber, thanking Vrudun as he reclaimed his property, securing it to his belt where it belonged.

"Thank you, my friend," Kalixinos said, "We likely wont meet again, but if we do, let the day be a pleasant one. Goodbye, Vrudun, and good luck."

With that, Kalixinos turned and began walking away from the Jedi, the Kaleesh disappearing into the seedy streets of Mek-Sha.

Jace looked back with a slight grin before speaking to the others.

"Well that was nice. What's our next move?"

Martius returned Kalixinos' bow and gave an understanding nod when he stated he wished to walk his own path. After Vrudun returned the Kaleesh's lightsaber and the former Inquisitor turned to leave the group, Martius stated: "Good luck to you, and if you ever change your mind, know the offer is always open." After he disappeared and Jace asked what was to be their next move, Martius replied: "I recommend we split up and explore the area around our designated meeting point abit; try to find good avenues for escape in case we should need to make a quick getaway, rooftops with a good line of sight over our meeting point where the HK droids can set up to provide cover fire, and note anything else of interest that may be of help in the event this does turn out to be a trap." Looking to the rest of the group, he continued: "And if anyone has any other suggestions, please feel free to share."

"I'll find a way up to explore the rooftops," Jace responded. "Shouldn't be too difficult." He looked up and scanned the buildings around them briefly. "So, where is the meeting point exactly?"

"I believe the Quermian stated that their safehouse was located in the Industrial sector. Didn't give us any specific landmarks other than to ask for a 'Thaumiel' when we arrive." Tuka answered while fiddling with his disguise.


In the brief time between flirting with death and reaching the terminus of their lightspeed journey, Afon had retreated to one the more isolated bunks and rested. The images of the last day had dominated his dreams, though not in a typical fashion. The sensations came in waves and the images faded as quicky as they formed, he turned and twisted incessantly.

When he awoke, he found that he was greeted with a more annoying foe than the bounty hunters. Old age. Despite his years of service in the Clone Wars, every morning was one filled with aches, but today it pained him especially. His muscles ached, his feet ached, hell, even his bones ached. He sat up and grunted in pain as his wound reminded him of its existence. He lifted his shirt and looked at the bandaged wound, frowning. The fact he'd fled irked him in his mind, despite his knowledge that he would've died if he had remained there. His irrational side had always plagued him second-guessing his actions in the future.

With a pained groan, he brought his legs around and stood up, stretching out as his body complained at the action. He saw his robes were discarded carelessly on the floor, the tunic had a mighty burned hole in it from where the axe had bit into his side. A tickle of pain ran over the wound in memory. He frowned when he realised he couldn't wear them any more. A shame, robes had always been his preferred clothing choice, almost engrained in him after so many decades in the Order.

But more important things were on his mind . Grabbing a loose jacket, he left the rooms in the staggered step of an exhausted man, each step sending a clang of metal throughout the corridor. He could hear the distant sounds of conversation on the move , and followed the sound doggedly, reaching the exit ramp of the ship, seeing the survivors assembled and ready to move.
"Next time we make an escape" he said, his voice was drier than he had first thought and he used the edge of the exit to support his weight, the cool air sent shivers running over his exposed chest "Don't let the man high on painkillers fly"

When Tuka responded to Jace's question, Martius added: "Indeed, assuming it hasn't moved since my last visit, you'll find the Industrial Sector due south of here; there are several massive fuel storage tanks in the area, so when you see them just head in their direction. There are a few different factories and refineries in the area, so we'll likely need to ask around to find which building this 'Thaumiel' is using as a safehouse. While you're at it, I'd suggest asking some of the locals what they know about the Blue Harvest as well; it wouldn't hurt to have more information on exactly what kind of group we'll be dealing with..."

Before he finished speaking, Afon disembarked from the Last Resort with a mordant quip to which Martius grinned and replied simply: "Fair enough." Looking back to the group, he continued: "Jace, why don't you and Vrudun take the high road and see what you can find from the rooftops. Tuka, you and Afon can take the low road and look for those escape routes." Looking to Afon, he continued: "If you're up for it, Tuka can fill you in on what's happening on the way." Addressing the group again, he stated: "My Master used to have a contact here with solid intel on the major happenings on the station so I'll check and see if she's still around. Whoever finds the safehouse, be sure to contact the rest of us with the location; lets plan to meet there once our objectives are complete. Anyone have any questions or suggestions?"

Afon nodded as Martius spoke, "Sounds like a plan" he answered, pushing himself up from his leaning position. He rolled his shoulders, the stretch loosening his tired shoulders a bit. He looked at Tuka "If you'd wait a moment as I change, I don't think it's wise to walk around shirtless" he said, retreating back inside the Last Resort

Rummaging around the ship yielded some results in the form of heavy duty trousers, with a belt from which to clip his lightsaber, and a shirt that felt a little too taut around his arms. He took the jacket he'd first worn, wasn't any sense leaving it behind in the ship, especially when he needed something to hide his saber. Coming back out of the Last Resort, he motioned with his head at Tuka "If you'd bring me up to speed as to why we're looking for escape routes, that would be appreciated"

"Well, never know if this meet-up could be a setup. I'd probably bet that the Empire's got a heck of a bounty up for any Jedi. Never can be top careful these days." Tuka answered, continuing to fiddle with his disguise alongside his lightsabers which he had managed to somehow hide under his metal belt.

"But hey, we escaped Odessen unscaved!", Tuka paused before continuing. "Uhh, relatively. Things can't possibly get any worse, right?"

"Starting to think a little bit paranoid, aren't we?" Afon said, wincing slightly as the cold air sent a shiver running down his back. He'd never been too fond of spaceports, and now that they'd been forced running for a former safe zone to one had certainly placed him on edge, he understood Tuka's nervousness.

"But calm yourself, Tuka, overthinking will only make the enemy everywhere. Now, if you could recompose yourself, what happened since we left Odessen?"

The Padawan took a deep breath as he nodded at Afon's words.

"The short of it is that when we landed here on Mek-Sha, we were contacted by a Quermian working for something named 'the Blue Harvest'. Apparently our arrival here's been foreseen by the Quermian's master, a 'Lady Ag'derrod', if i recall correctly. I think he also said that this Lady was 'cut from the same cloth'. I have no idea what that means, but they still want to offer shelter and protection."

Tuka paused after speaking, thinking for a moment. "Do you think this 'Lady' could be Force-sensitive?"

Afon's lips straightened as Tuka spoke, nodding along. When he finished, Afon remained quiet for a while as his mind dwelled on the subject. The fact that the Quermian might be aware that Jedi had fled here was worrying, and the fact that they even knew the Jedi were present was certainly alarming. He made a mental not to inspect the ship when they returned, in case there was some beacon he may have missed that betrayed the craft's origin.

He looked over at Tuka "It's possible" he said after a moment "It would explain how this 'Lady' knew we were coming, but I cannot say I can feel anything in the Force. That is what concerns me more"

With the plan devised by the Grandmaster, Vrudun responded with a shake of his head, indicating no further questions. The Zabrak looked over to Jace and nodded to him. "We should find transport and get to the Industrial Sector. I'm sure we'll figure out the rest of this plan when we get there."

Aboard the Vigil

---

"Urgh--!"

In his modest quarters aboard the Vigil, Rhys awoke with a start. He tried to scramble to a sitting position, still surrounded by the mess of artifacts he was taking inventory of, and quickly finding that the young padawan had fallen asleep not on his bunk, but upon the floor. It certainly explained the stiffness in his neck. How long had he been out...?

It took him a moment of sitting at the foot of his bed to get his bearings. The minuscule holocron his master had given him sat a foot away, likely having fallen from his hand as he slept. Rhys picked it up, and perused the collection of objects around him, as well as the assortment that now took up much of the space upon his bunk. Now he remembered. The Miraluka pushed himself to his feet, and snatched up the datapad that lay among them. After a moment of tapping away at the screen to view its contents, he breathed a short sigh of relief. At least it was all cataloged and accounted for. He then looked back to review the lot of it, and then to his late master's holocron. His lips twisted into a solemn frown.

No, he thought to himself. Master Yan wouldn't have wanted him like this. Nor could he let the memory of his peers that gathered it all be in vain...

Within a few minutes, the disheveled sage exited his quarters pushing along a sizable metal crate, packed full of the artifacts they managed to recover from Odessen. He lugged it down the corridors into one of the cargo holds, opting to leave it there until the masters decided what to do with them. He took a breath.

"Master Vrudun?" he called out to inform him of it, but there was no answer.
He turned his ear to the doorway, but heard nothing. Where was everyone? Rhys left the cargo hold, and marched around the Vigil with a certain softness to his step, hearing nothing but the steady hums and beeps of the consoles lining the walls of the starship's corridors.

But just when he thought he had missed something important, the padawan strolled past the passenger seating, where Master Nard still slept peacefully where he and Afon had laid him.

"Master Nard--?"

The padawan had been so exhausted he had almost forgotten about him. Somewhat reinvigorated by his recent rest, and the fact that the wookiee's arm was still broken and in a sling, Rhys rushed to his side.

With the massive wookiee laid upon his back atop a set of the starship's passenger seating, the disheveled padawan began to remove the sling that was binding his fractured arm in place. He placed a single hand upon Nard's forehead, and reached out with the Force. He made no attempt to delve into his mind, but sensed no physical anguish from the slumbering master - which was good, at least. Rhys took a breath, and soothed the wookiee's mind and body of his pain. It was a simple technique he had learned from his Master some years ago, which made many procedures easier should he have no access to a bacta tank or any other high-end equipment. With the careful movements of his free hand, Rhys telekinetically took hold of Nard's broken arm.

"Forgive me, Master," he muttered. Just in case. He sucked in a lungful of air.

Finally, in a single deft motion and a sickening crack, Rhys snapped the bones back into place.

The padawan promptly exhaled in relief to be greeted with silence instead of awakening the wookiee he was treating. He wasted no time. With the hardest part behind him now, Rhys took hold of the broken arm directly, and allowed the Force to flow into the master once more. I typically took a little less than a minute for him to mend such an injury in a human patient, but he knew little of the wookiees' anatomy. He decided to play it safe, lingering for a few minutes to allow Master Nard's arm to heal in its entirety...

It'd thankfully pay off when he finally let go, finding Nard's forearm now in one piece. Rhys gingerly laid the mended arm to rest upon the sleeping wookiee's chest, and simply let him go back to resting. Had he the energy to do so, he would have taken care of it right after that terrible battle. Luckily for them, almost nothing was beyond the Force's life-giving power. Rhys took a moment to look over the master one more time, before reaching for his commlink.

"Master Vrudun, do you read?"

As Vrudun and Jace formulated the details of their plan, his Hush-98 comlink began to beep as blink. Signalling to Jace to wait a moment, he turned around and addressed the communications unit. He pressed the button and heard the voice of his Padawan.

"I read you, apprentice. Is everything alright?"

"I've finished taking inventory of the artifacts we recovered from Odessen," Rhys said, finding a semblance of relief that at least he was still in touch with the others. He stepped away from the still comatose wookiee as to not disturb him.

"They are in the cargo hold now. I've also taken the liberty to finish mending Master Nard's injuries, but it may still be some time before he wakes. Would you prefer I watch over him for the time being?"

Vrudun smiled at the sound of his Padawan and the progress he'd made since they had left. He didn't want to make any demands of the young one. After all, he'd had a trying and very tiring time at the Temple, before and leading up to it's destruction. Without him, Master Nardrashtasch would be in a much tougher spot. Now, it would seem that the wookie Jedi Master would indeed be okay after some much needed rest after his fight with the bounty hunters. "Your determination knows no bounds, young one. Until I return, please ensure that the Master is quite comfortable. The ship is as much your home as mine, so make yourself comfortable, as well. I believe Beli is still in the cockpit if you wish to talk." Vrudun looked back to Jace, who seemed to be growing impatient. "And Padawan..."

"You've made me very proud."

"Ah, not to interrupt," Jace chimed in, "It seems we find ourselves in need of transportation. I think I saw a used speeder place in the direction we need to be heading. Does anyone actually have credits or are we just going to mind-trick our way into getting one for free?"

Vrudun turned to face Jace. "I've got a few credits, maybe enough to get a very lower end one." Replied Vrudun, turning back to his communicator.

"I have to go now. Stay safe, Apprentice." He said, clicking off the comm before Rhys could get a reply in. With that matter settled, he turned back to the human Jedi. "Let's go see what we can find."

Jace nodded back at Vrudun. "Right on. Let's get to it." The two disguised Jedi walked back towards where Jace had spotted the speeder shop. As they approached the entrance, a diminutive Ithorian stepped out of the entrance and began gesturing towards the speeders laying in the yard and speaking in rapid Huttese. Jace cursed under his breath and turned to Vrudun. "You wouldn't happen to speak Huttese, would you?"

"No, sadly. Although for a port such as this...a place that thrives on black market deals and backroom intrigue, I'm sure it won't be difficult to find one that can translate for us." He said.

As the two approached the speeder shop, a row of 6 speeders sat in front, all in various stages of heavy use, some of which hadn't even been washed by their salesmen. As they approached, Vrudun's eyes darted to an approaching bot of a make he wasn't familiar with.

"Greetings, I am Z-9TP, translator for Muk Zataan. Would you be willing to purchase from us today?"

Vrudun smiled and looked back at Jace. He mumbled in a low tone.

"Wha'dya know."

Jace grinned back at Vrudun.

"So how many speeders do we need? Is it just us two or are the others coming along for the parade?"

To be Continued...

[Uyuti]

Kalixinos on Mek-Sha

Mek-Sha

The Jedi were behind him, the Empire was behind him, his life as a slave was behind him; Kalixinos was now free, unbound by the orders and controlling powers of the galaxy. The Kaleesh was without restraint in what seemed to be the first moment of his life.

It was not as Kalixinos expected it to feel; even though he was free from those forces, he was alone, unsupported, wounded, and on a station he had little knowledge of. A station not unlike where his master had been killed, and where he had been enslaved.
The Jedi, at least in the few brief hours he was with them for, had been kind and forgiving. Merciful even. The bile of regret pooled in his mouth again, it felt as though he was always making the wrong choices.

Kalixinos shook his head, shaking the thoughts out of his head; three months ago, he had started down the path of the Dark Side, there was no turning back now. The Jedi would not welcome him if he were to become what was needed to survive in the new Imperial age. If his time as an Inquisitor had taught him anything, it was the Dark Side was powerful, the Dark Side was strong. Darth Vader was proof enough; the sheer force the Sith Lord radiated every moment was crushing. His presence alone could cause pain and strike fear even into the most courageous of individuals.
That was the power of the Dark Side; he needed it if he were to survive.

But first was tending to his own loses.

--

For a ‘Clinic’ it was rugged and dirty, cybernetics and droid parts hung from the left most wall and blood from various species stained the floor and bits of medical equipment, this despite the heavy and oppressive smell of antiseptics that hung in the air.
The presumable owner and only ‘doctor’ in the establishment was a dark green skinned Rodian, thin and sickly looking.

Kalixinos would’ve stayed away from this chop-shop if it wasn’t one of the ‘better’ options the Kaleesh had found on Mek-Sha. He disliked everything about, anxiety constantly twisting in his stomach, only masked by an ever growing and brisk anger. Regardless, Kalixinos sat in the operating chair, his arm on the operating area, a new cybernetic hand already attached to his stump.
The Rodian Doctor, Zimar, was finishing up the process. Making minor adjustment to get Kalixinos’s new hand to operate smoothly; it mismatched the Kaleeshs’ natural anatomy. The cybernetic had five fingers, like a human, whereas Kalixinos only had four on a hand naturally.
Regardless, Kalixinos didn’t complain, even as the work sparks caused him pain and discomfort; a hand was a hand.
With the final adjustment, Zimar closed up the access panel and Kalixinos lifted up his hand. Opening and closing his palm, flexing his wrist, curling and uncurling his fingers; the mechanical limb was remarkably well integrated, meaning Kalixinos had his full fighting abilities back.

“You do fine work, Dr. Zimar,” Kalixinos said, “How much?”

“I do do fine work. Fine work for fine pay.” Zimar replied.

Kalixinos’s eyes narrowed as he stood up from the operating chair, “How much?”

The Rodian rose himself up tall, knowing his scam was going to plan. “Ten thousand credits.”

Kalixinos was incensed but silent, rage boiled underneath his skin, his yellow eyes trained on Zimar.

“If you can’t pay now, Kaleesh, then I accept other forms of payment, installments with interest and of course, servitude until you’ve paid off any debts.” Zimar explained, confident in his con.

“I refuse.” Kalixinos said quietly.

“Now now, only criminals don’t pay their debts,” Zimar said cruelly, “And criminals deserve punishment.”
Zimar lifted a hand, in it a small device like a remote. A flick of the wrist and Zimar activated it.

Suddenly electricity surged up Kalixinos’s arm and through his body; Kalixinos stiffened but did not buckle. Zimar let the torture continue for a few more seconds, then let it stop; Kalixinos dropped to the ground on his hands and knees, breathing deeply and raggedly.

“Now, let’s discuss payment options.” Zimar said moving closer to the Kaleesh. “I think servitude will suit you.”

Kalixinos slowly stood up, his eyes full of hatred.

“Come now, you mustn’t be angry, I am simply a business…” Zimar stopped, finding himself running short on air.
Kalixinos stood before Zimar, his left hand raised and Zimar quickly choking. Zimar slowly lifted into the air, the Rodian scratching at his throat and kicking the air. Meanwhile, Zimar’s remote flew through the air to Kalixinos’s new mechanical hand. With the terrible device in hand, Kalixinos crushed it and letting the broken parts fall to the ground.

“I will not be paying anything to a slaver.” Kalixinos whispered, as the former Inquisitor called his lightsaber up.
Kalixinos ignited the saber with his free hand, the bright red blade reflected in the Rodian’s bug-like eyes.

Kalixinos shoved the lightsaber blade into the Rodian’s head, twisting it back and forth, his eyes locked with Zimar’s as the Rodian died. Kalixinos extinguished his lightsaber, dropping the corpse, the dead Rodian hitting the floor with a thud.

Kalixinos smiled, the corners of his mouth curling upward underneath his mask, his teeth bared.
--

Kalixinos adjusted his new shirt and jacket, thankfully unstained by the Rodian’s blood. The Kaleesh had rifled through the clinic and its backrooms, filling his pockets with what he found useful and taking it.
A knapsack, several handfuls of credits, a new blaster, and an astromech droid which Kalixinos quickly claimed ownership of, and other items he either wanted or needed.

He did another onceover of the clinic before preparing his final sendoff of the Rodian doctor. Kalixinos grabbed a barrel of the antiseptic fluid Zimar used to clean the facilities, dousing the building liberally with it.
Making sure everything was thoroughly covered, Kalixinos ignited his lightsaber once again and struck the metal wall, a shower of sparks falling to floor.

The room lit, the building suddenly ablaze. Kalixinos extinguished his lightsaber and left, his new droid in tow.
He was heading to the docks, intent on claiming a ship for himself. And should someone try to stop him? He would cut them down just like Zimar.

And once he had his ship? Kalixinos would go to the place all Sith go: Moraband.

[Flarbinia]

Cowritten with San Har Rasta, Okayanos, and Aeritai

"There's too many of them! Break off and flank them!" The words of Ruhr Draay echoed in the mind of Captain Decimus as he looked at his Durasteel hand. "The Republic sent two fleets to liberate Telos. Both fleets ended up losing three eighths of their ships and pilots because Intelligence underestimated the size of the Trade Federation fleet we would be facing. If it wasn't for the Jedi, none of us would've survived, let alone triumphed." Decimus thought to himself as he awaited a transmission from the ship he was supposed to link up with. The fact that they were expected to do so was not a surprise to the Captain. The 797th hadn't fared well under the Empire, the Legion having been reduced to an under supplied regiment that saw no action outside of pirate raids and the occasional minor skirmish along their patrol route.

Captain Brutus stepped out of his shuttle along with three other squads of Purge Troopers, into the hanger of Admiral Karnu's own Star Destroyer. This mission was a stranger one than most. The 411th was to meet up with the 797th to take back a remaining Separatist world. The reason this wasn't left to basic infantry was due to activity around an old Jedi temple. Anything that could be a Jedi had to be looked into. Without actual confirmation that it was a remaining traitor was the reason the whole Purge Division wasn't sent in.

Commander Steppenwolf took a very different approach to leading the Pure Troopers. Instead of leading them from the front he stayed back unless he was needed, giving orders and overseeing the tactics. Brutus was always more than happy to be the main officer on the ground but he couldn't make as many impulse decisions he had been known for now that he had a commanding officer watching his every move. CT-6264 made his way up to the bridge to meet with Karnu before they met with the 797th.

The other clone legion needed help on their assignment. They were assigned to Ruhr Draay in the Clone Wars so it was no surprise to Brutus that they were incompetent. Seeing a real Clone force in action would hopefully improve their efficiency. Brutus frowned at the thought of the Inquisitor, it was almost a shame he didn't talk to him one last time after the massive failure on Odesson. He wanted to rub in the failure to the Inquisitor and let him know that Brutus was not impressed.

Once on the bridge Brutus gave a salute to Admiral Karnu and said "Purge Units reporting for duty Admiral." The clone Captains voice was metallic and distorted through his respirator.

On the bridge of the Deliverance. Admiral Karnu is seen talking to Aliella most likely discussing the recent orders they received. In the middle of their conversation, Karnu saw Brutus standing there saluting. Karnu returned the salute now focused on Brutus while Aliella stood back at attention looking Brutus with a curious look.

"At ease Captain Brutus... It's good to have you back." The Admiral said giving the clone captain a warm smile.

"I trust you already know our next assignment?"

"Yes sir, we are stopping separatist resistance and hopefully finding a Jedi." Brutus said a little too happily. Killing seps would bring back good memories on Allst Prime.

When Brutus first saw Karnu he thought he would be someone to respect and he wasn't wrong so far. The clone Captain appreciated the smile and friendly attitude even though friendliness wasn't something he practiced himself.

"This time we won't have Inquisitors to muck up our work."

"Indeed... Hopefully this mission will be more successful than the one on Odesson. This will be our chance to redeem ourselves." Karnu said as he crossed arms.

"From what I saw in the reports it would seem Inquisitor Draay's clone Legion will be joining us. I hope they are more useful than he is."

Brutus smirked at the slight at Ruhr and replied, "They already need our help, the only thing to hope for is their learning abilities."

The Captain wanted to recommend an orbital bombardment but he wanted to get up close and personal with the seps and supposed jedi.

"Do we know when we will be linking with them sir?"

"Not sure... High Command says they will be here soon. Hopefully it doesn't take them long, I grow tired of looking at forsaken planet." The Admiral said as he turned to look at the bridge's view port as he looked at Odesson with disgust.

"I lost a lot of good clones on that planet due to the failure of the Inquisitors. Everyone in my crew was punished for the Inquisitors's failure... Including Commander Buck."

The holographic projector came to life as an Arquitens-Class Command Cruiser came into view, the blue and white image of a clean shaven man with a Durasteel hand appearing before the men on the bridge. "Admiral Karnu. When I was told we were to link up with a larger unit, I didn't expect to see you or that you would bring a Black Ops unit to our mission. I can only assume that you were sent all the way out here because command finally realized that your spite outweighs your ability to command." Captain Decimus said to Karnu as he glanced at the Clone Trooper in black armor. Unlike Karnu, he had respect for the Jedi, having fought in the Stark Hyperspace War.

"Ah Captain Decimus... Good to see you." Karnu greeted as he looked at the holographic figure with Aliella also turning to look at Decimus.

"This has nothing to do with my spite... I recieved orders from high command and I'll make sure this mission is a success."

"A Venator, an Acclaimator, and an Arquitens-Class light Cruiser? Either the Separatist defenses have been that weakened by the deactivation of the Droid Armies or Intelligence has underestimated the size of their fleet. I remember the loses we suffered over Telos every time I look at my Durasteel hand." Decimus said to Karnu as he stared back at him. "As you are well aware, our destination is Tiamat. It does not appear on most Star Charts, as prior to the Clone Wars, Tiamat was seen as worthless. However, the Corporate Alliance discovered Nova Crystals on Tiamat and set up mining operations on a planet." Decimus said to Karnu as a holographic image of a planet that was ninety-five percent ocean. "The commander of the garrison is San Rend, who was my commander during the Hyperspace War. Despite the Corporate Alliance bending the knee after the deactivation of the Droid Armies, San has refused to accept that the war is over, using the Nova Crystals to hire mercenaries." Decimus continued, the holographic image of the planet being replaced with that of an old man in the uniform of the Corporate Alliance.

"The Triumph won't be aiding us in the mission. Only myself and 3 squads will be your Purge trooper reinforcement. Tell me about the supposed Jedi," Brutus chimed in, studying the holographic images before him.

"The Triumph won't be aiding us in the mission. Only myself and 3 squads will be your Purge trooper reinforcement. Tell me about the supposed Jedi," Brutus chimed in, studying the holographic images before him.

"That lowers our odds of success. As for the Jedi that might be on Tiamat, Intelligence has narrowed it down to three possibilities: Zodd Shanketh, a Jedi Knight who preferred fighting alongside militias over leading Clones." Captain Decimus said to the Purge Trooper as the image of San Rend was replaced by that of Rodian. "Sodom, a Jedi Master notorious for reducing cities to rubble." Decimus continued as the image of the Rodian was replaced with that of a human woman with half of her face covered in tribal tattoos. "Vrex Lasplu, a Padawan who didn't hesitate to brag about his skill in underwater Lightsaber Combat at every opportunity." Decimus said to the Purge Trooper as the image of the human woman was replaced by that a Mon Calamari.

"Your odds of success were nonexistent until the 411th stepped in. You leave the Jedi hunting to me and let me worry about how to best use my men," Brutus angrily snapped back.

The Purge Captain got a hold of himself and said more calmly, "If we knew for certain there was a Jedi then I would send in more men. I have faith in them and in myself that we will be able to put down the Jedi."

"And while the 411th deal with the three Jedi. I shall be leading the attack against San Rend's forces. If needed I'll also send out starfighters to provide air support for the 797th." Karnu said.

"Considering that San Rend has only had three months to hire mercenaries, his fleet comprises the bulk of his forces. Other than its reliance on manned fighters, its composition is the same. I hope your pilots are up to the task." Captain Decimus said to Admirla Karnu before ending transmission.

Once the transmission ended, Karnu turned to speak with Aliella.

"Have the Deliverance be ready to jump into hyperspace. Once we're ready have the ship jump to the Tiamet System." The Admiral said.

"Understood sir." Aliella said.

"And one more thing, you will be leading the attack against Rend's fleet instead of me. I shall be observing you." Karnu said.

"Me leading the attack?" Aliella asked as she raised one eyebrow.

"Why me?"

"I see great potential in you Captain Harmenix. I wish to see you rise through the ranks of the Imperial Navy and become something more than just a regular officer." Karnu said placing his right hand on her shoulder with a smile.

"I know you can get the job done."

"Then I won't fail you Admiral." Aliella said before walking to the other officers and ordering them to prepare the ship for hyperspace.

Once Aliella had left, Karnu turned towards Brutus once again.

"Is there anything else you want to discuss Brutus?" Karnu asked.

Brutus looked at Karnu and gave a simple response, "No, sir."

The Captain walked back to the hanger to meet with his men. As he walked through the halls he put on his helmet. His respirator was too large for his old helmet to fit so engineering made him a new one that linked to his mask.

Once in the hanger Brutus and his men went through a gear check and readied themselves for departure on a shuttle.

"All Troopers! We have guests arriving in the hangar! I want everyone there and standing at attention by the time they arrive!" Commander Victor said to the Clones in the Mess. "What about her?" Tacitus asked Victor, the commander looking at Janus. "Take her to her quarters, then double time to the hangars. We need to make a first impression as good as possible and we can't afford to have someone interrupt our guests." Victor said to Tacitus, the Clone Commando and the rest of his squad escorting Janus to the crew quarters.

The Surface of Tiamat

Waves crashed forcefully against the blue-tinted sands of Tiamat. Jin-Roh's bare feet crushed against the grains, and the gentle breeze blew his long hair and beard about. The planet would've made a wonderful retirement home, somewhere he could grow old in peace, until he finally became one with the Force. A darkness went over, and Jin-Roh looked up, drawn out of his dreams of what could've been. The angular form of a Munificent-class frigate crossed in front of the Tiamat system's star. Jin-Roh scowled, and contemplated calling San, just to ask him to move the ship a little faster. It would've been petty, but Jin-Roh was old and cranky, and it was his right to get upset when something blocked his sunlight. He sighed. Emotion, yet peace. San Rend was far from the sort of company Jin-Roh imagined himself keeping after the Clone Wars ended. As far from it as possible, considering the man was as former CIS commander. But desperate times brought strange alliances. The old Jedi rubbed the dark tattoos on the back of his left hand. He and San had more in common than either of them wanted to admit. They both still had war left in their souls. Jin-Roh flicked his communicator on, opening a channel to the Munificent above.

Munificent-class frigate Tumultuous

"San, your ship's blocking my sunlight." Came a rumbling voice over the ship's bridge comms. Commander San Rend laughed.

"That's an unfortunate side effect of moving capital ships, master Jedi," San replied. "If it makes you feel better, I'll have more power diverted to the sublights."

"Whatever makes it go by faster," Said Jin-Roh. San was no force-sensitive, but he could tell that the Jedi Master- one who he had called friend, then enemy, and now friend again- was more nervous than he let on. He couldn't imagine why- San had always figured that being connected to a mystical force that guided the universe would make one immune to nerves.

“...Jin, are you sure you’re up to this? That ‘battle meditation’ trick doesn’t sound easy.” San asked, even as he hoped that the Jedi would be able to pull it off. Without the aid of Jin-Roh’s battle meditation, he didn’t see any chance of victory.

“I’m old, but I’m not weak, San. Just tired. I’ll make you all unstoppable,” Jin-Roh assured. San hoped he wasn’t lying.

“If you say so, Master Jedi.” He switched onto the priority communications channel, linking up with the other capital ships in his fleet. The crews were a mix of organic mercenary captains and old tactical droids that had been taken over by Tiamat’s pint-sized natives. How the tiny aliens turned droids into vehicles, San would never know. “All ships, Commander Rend here. Move out to defensive positions. Let’s see how accurate our Jedi Master’s foresight is.”

The 797th were standing at attention in the hangar as the shuttle arrived in the hangar, weapons in hand as Captain Decimus walked into the hangar to personally greet the Purge Troopers. He knew that anything less would be an insult to the Clone in pitch black armor he had seen during his conversation with Karnu and the creation of a petty rivalry might cause problems down the line.

As the shuttle doors opened the 797th was greeted with 3 squads of Purge Troopers. They were an intimidating sight, resembling a pack of wolves more than a squad of troopers. They were religiously cleaning weapons and armor, exercising nervous twitches, and a few spoke in mando'aa to each other.

In front of them all was Brutus. He was tending to his new metal arm, making sure it worked right for it's first mission. He started to walk towards Captain Decimus and studied all the troops assembled before him. Obviously this was a sign of respect. But this kind of respect meant one thing to Brutus. It meant he was in charge.

"I will be taking charge of ground operations for this mission Captain."

"I respect your abilities as a hunter of Jedi, but unless you have direct orders that say otherwise, the only members of the 797th that will be under your command is Orion Squad. If there is a Jedi on Tiamat, San Rend will most likely have deployed some of his best troops to their location, so it is wise to have some Commandos assisting you and your men in removing them from the board." Decimus said to Brutus in a polite tone as a squad of Clone Commandos stepped forward, one of them carrying a pump action slugthrower in his hand, a trophy pried from the cold dead hands of one of his kills.

"Now, if you don't have anything else to say, head to the bridge. I will fill you in on the details there." Captain Decimus said to the Purge Trooper as he and Orion Squad headed to the bridge, everyone in the hangar watching to see how the brash Purge Trooper would react.

"Sir, the Ground Armored Tanks have been reactivated. However, due to the limited number deployed to this planet when we were working for the Corporate Alliance, we will have to keep them in reserve until the enemy starts gaining ground." Gwail Ghau, San's second-in-command, said to his commanding officer, the elderly Weequay staring at the hologram.

Captain Decimus headed back to the bridge, Orion Squad and Commander Victor escorting the Purge Troopers to the bridge "I apologize for the inconvenience, but we are on a schedule and don't have time to deal with you acting the strong and silent type. The sooner we reach Tiamat, the sooner you can hunt down and kill any Jedi you can find on the planet." Captain Decimus said to Brutus as the Clones in the hangar returned to their regular duties.

"If our gamble fails, our defenses will crumble before the Empire's might. The GATs should buy us time to evacuate from Tiamat, should the need arise." San Rend said to Gwail, the Weequay leaving without a word. San Rend knew very well that his military buildup wouldn't go unnoticed for long, especially since his decision to defy the orders of the Corporate Alliance had made him a loose end for his former superiors. To pour salt in the wound, the bulk of his forces were pirates and mercenaries, as Tiamat lacked the population needed to replace the deactivated battle droids. When the body count rises, when the tide turns against him, they will desert his cause. Jin-Roh claimed that Battle Meditation could change the course of entire battles, but even if those claims were true, it wasn't reliable. It required the full attention of the Jedi who can use it, leaving them vulnerable to attack. The Empire would not hesitate to exploit that weakness, making the elderly Jedi Master as much of a liability to the cause as he was an advantage.

Captain Decimus walked onto the bridge with the Clone Commandos and the Purge Troopers in tow, the officers standing at attention. "At ease, ladies and gentlemen. These Heroes of the Empire deserve our respect and we will be working with them for the duration of this mission. Now, prepare for the jump to Hyperspace. We will be leaving on Admiral Karnu's mark." Captain Decimus said to the officers, everyone heading to their positions.

"Prepare to jump to hyperspace..." Karnu announced to the whole fleet.

Once Karnu made the announcement, the crew on the bridge began to activate the hyperspace drive and once it was ready. The Deliverance jumped into hyperspace towards their destination.

Captain Decimus looked out as his ship entered Hyperspace, the bride crew working at their stations. At maximum speed, it would not be long before they reach Tiamat.

[Flarbinia]

Cowritten with Tethrys, Castriarta, and United Islands of Polis
The Lummox drifted lazily along the remains of a derelict Lucrehulk that was partially bisected by the ruined carcass of an Acclimator. Left overs like this dotted the galaxy from one end to the other and many, including Aresh welcomed the easy paycheck gotten from stripping the wrecks for useful items. Sadly for the amateur scrapper, there was little left of these two ships to take. The Empire had entire companies leasing rights to the different wrecks and broken vessels both floating through the void and laying dormant on a hundred worlds. It wouldn't be that long before all the unclaimed sites were picked clean as a result. Folks like Aresh looking to make a quick buck had set on these things the moment the first massive salvage yards went up.

Grumbling inaudibly the captain, and only sentient creature aboard the Lummox couldn't believe his run of bad luck since getting out of lock up once again. Since starting again, now that the Jedi were practically dead, and the republic was no more, Aresh thought he might get at least a few weeks of smooth sailing with lax guards and easy pickings. Instead here he was three months after the end of the war picking through the corpses of dead ships, like some low level Coruscant scrap dealer.

"Master, perhaps launching another scan of the lucrehulk's severed hangar arm will produce results." His nearby protocol droid A-4K3, or Anke as he called her, offered.

"No, three tries was two too many. This hunk of junk is picked clean." Aresh scowled as he began bouncing his leg and chewing his finger in thought.

He had originally expected to make a pretty easy time of it with these wrecks, yet this was his third once and still he hadn't come close to filling his cargo space. He needed to find something worth it soon if he was going to buy off ole Hosk. The old Weequay pirate had partnered with him for a score a little over a month ago that went sideways, and now, he had to pay the bastard back. Problem was, Aresh was still fixing everything he lost from the collapse of the Kairn Syndicate after he was put away. He just didn't have the creds to pay. Hence why he was here doing work he felt he was above. Not the first time he had to do dirty work he supposed but still, Aresh disliked the mundane nature of salvage stealing.

He would have just skimped on paying Hosk back had the pirate not expected that and impounded his baby. His YT-1250 the Hummingbird was probably being used for show and tell by some of Hosk's men to get into some floozy's pants while he was stuck on this scrapper ship. The damn thing might as well have been a garbage hauler with how it smelled and flew.

Just as he was about to write the system off and head out to try and find another wreck to paw through a faint ping, just at the edge of his sensors alerted him to something. Out of curiosity more than anything he coasted the Lummox in it's direction before grinning at the information he got.

An Arc-170 in pretty good condition all things considered. It looked beat up, but that was to be expected. It wouldn't be left to drift here had it been in good condition. So piloting the Lummox into position he began scooping the craft up. Once it was in the hold he grabbed his gear, threw on his helmet and made his way back to the vessel.

Like he had thought, it was in rough shape but far better than anything else in this system. This baby would pay his debt and more with Hosk, that old bastard would throw him a banquet. Just as he was about to pop the canopy and check the interior he froze. While the canopy windows were fogged up and blackened by the damage dealt to the ship. He could make out not only someone inside, but clearly someone alive inside. How the hell that was possible he didn't know, but he knew one thing, as he armed one of his 'party grenades'. He wasn't about to take a chance with whatever came out.

Ra Ada groaned with exertion as he forced himself to remain aware of his surroundings. The Jedi tried to focus his mind, calling on his training of drawing strength from pain. He could sense that his ship had been pulled into some larger space, but beyond that he could not be sure, and the pure exhaustion of his mind and body prevented the Jedi from reaching out further with the Force. Instead, he resolved to simply face whatever new threat he was confronted by. The Anzati lacked any of his usual delicacy or precision as he made his exit: simply releasing the Force in a rough telekinetic wave, he obliterated the reinforced glass of the cockpit viewport. As it sprayed out in a million directions, the Jedi slammed one of is clawed hands down onto the steel of the ship's exterior with enough force to dent it and begun to pull his way out. His robes were tattered and smoldering, and his skin was roasted beneath, as well as covered by tears and gashes from shards of glass and metal. The Anzati did not bleed, but the mud of the forest and the blood of some of his Clone victims did stain his appearance.

Aresh took a sudden step back at the sight of the interloper on his admittedly borrowed ship. The man was clearly in recent battle. Injured and covered in dirt and blood much of which appeared to not be his own. Chucking the grenade in his hand at the newly discovered enemy he watched as it flew clearly overhead and past the stranger causing him to let out a curse.

Ra sighed tiredly at the aggressive greeting he received upon climbing out of the starship. He watched with dull eyes as the human threw some kind of grenade past his head. Casually lifting one hand, Ra Ada reached out with the Force to seize the object and send it flying back at his assailant, speaking in his deep voice as he did so. "This Galaxy seems to have forgotten the crucial etiquette of hospitality. A true shame."

Ra was slightly impressed as the human reacted speedily, whipping out a blaster and shooting the grenade out of mid-air. Ra shielded his eyes with one robed arm against the blinding light that flashed out from the projectile, directly in between himself and the other man.

Grunting with the burst from his own grenade Aresh found himself turning his attention back to the newcomer trying to decide his next course of action. He did not ponder long as he saw a thin cylinder on the probable jedi's person.

"You know you're kind is endangered these days. You'll make my debt with Hosk even alone, and I can sell your ship and saber for extra spending money I think." Aresh said quietly while flicking his blaster to stun.

"Come along nice and easy now, no need to make this any bloodier than it has to be." He said while backing up to put distance between himself and the Jedi. He also drew his second blaster and likewise flicked it to stun. A live Jedi sold to Hosk was worth far more than a dead Jedi turned in for the reward with the Empire. Not that he wanted to be near Imperials anyway.

Ra Ada gazed at the dark-haired man as he backed away, drawing his blasters. The Anzati's eyes were cold and analytical, seeming to calculate every miniscule detail of the man's appearance and presentation. The Jedi stepped slowly down from the ship, striding a step forward to stand eye to eye with the other man on the floor of the hangar. As he eyed him, Ra Ada also reached out with his other senses. He slipped into the predatory instincts of the Anzati, enhanced by his Jedi training. He could smell, feel, taste, and see the man's mind, his history and future. He could hunt him, training in on his weaknesses and pulling strings to bend the man to his will.

Ra spoke again. "You are lost, young one." As he probed the smuggler's mind, the Anzati began to tear at it, attempting to strike him down without even landing a blow. "Your existence is sad and insufficient. This is not the right path."

A sudden presence pressing into his head caused Aresh to cry out in surprise and pain as his mind was invaded. He snarled out at the Jedi as the presence washed over his mind and nearly brought him to his knees.

"Get out of my head you bastard!" He roared as he snapped off a pair of stun shots from his blasters hoping to put him out with that.

Ra's sharp teeth broken into a snarl as he stepped forward to the man, focusing on bringing his mind down. Although he could sense a weakness in this man's psyche, the Anzati was exhausted from his duel and subsequent escape from Odessen. So focused was he on his psychological hunt that he noticed too late as the man pushed free from his control and raised his guns. Ra's supernatural senses took over and protected him as he dodged the first shot by instinct. However, the second blast hit the Anzati square in the neck. Ra's monochromatic eyes rolled up into his head and he went limp, tottering for a moment before dropping to the ground.

Walking over and prodding the unconscious Anzati with his foot, Aresh smiled before he removed his helmet and wiped a thin trail of blood from his nose.

"Kriffing Jedi. Look at you now big man. Not so fancy when staring a blaster down after all eh?" He taunted. Picking up the sabers and briefly searching the Anzati for any other weapons he picked up some shackles and and even a blindfold and bound up his new catch.

"Oh, yeah just you wait. Hosk is going to throw me a feast, give me his best booze, best girls. Oh-ho and I'll get to watch you in his fighting pits. Just you wait Kark." He grumbled as he drug the sleeping jedi to the ship's holding cell. Once done with that he set A-4K3 to set course for Hosk's station near Lothal.

While the ship mad it's jump Aresh headed back to the cargo area to begin cleaning up and inventorying his newest haul.

Ra Ada awoke slowly, shaking off the claustrophobic darkness of the stun-shot like a giant blanket. Finally he came to, only to be met again by more forced, stifling restraint. Surprisingly, this was the first time in his centuries-long existence that the Anzati had found himself in captivity, some other being's prisoner. Ra tested his bonds lightly, finding them to be sufficiently secure to hold his muscles for now, while he wore off the weariness of the Odessen ordeal. For time being, the Jedi would have the rely on patience. He would meditate, perceive the situation as a whole, and find its shatterpoints. He would go where the Force guided him, act as the Force willed him. The Jedi folded his legs beneath him, kneeling on the floor of the holding cell and losing his mind in the depths of the Living Force. He could not be sure how long it was before he felt the presence of another being approached, sticking out clearly in his mind. Ra Ada remained motionless as he knelt calmly on the floor, even as he was met by the sound of his cell door being unlocked and opened.

As the Lummox came out of hyperspace, Hosk's base of operations loomed ahead. Once a minor outpost built into the side of an asteroid, Tulq Station had grown into Tulq city since it's found centuries ago. A mishmash of various large ships, constructs, and habitation modules formed the majority of the city's body wedged deep within the rock. Drifting slowly into dock Aresh could see the Tulq guards, Hosk's own men, immediately making a bee-line for his ship so he went to prep his payment.

Pressing the cargo bay doors release he opened up the Jedi's cell and stared at his kneeling form briefly.

Ra Ada allowed his mind to dissolve into his surroundings, his senses flowing outward around him until he was immersed in his environment like the apex predator he was. Even through the thick blindfold on his face, Ra Ada could see everything with incredible clarity in the Force. The world moved in slow motion, his highly evolved killer brain adapting to each change with time-warping speed. As the smuggler raised his gun to fire, Ra Ada was already on the move, throwing himself to the side and rolling clean out of the way of the blast. The Anzati still had his arms chained in front of him as he came to his feet. Raising them in front of them, he probed the presence of the other man’s mind.

“You are not fit for the role you assume, human. You have made far too many mistakes in your life. I wish to give you the mercy of showing you a better path.” As he spoke, the Anzati tried again to explore the smuggler’s psyche and identify any weak points, only to pull and ply at them so he could control the human’s consciousness.

"Well, I see you woke up. Welcome to Tulq City, now why don't you take another nap while I get you settled?" He said while flicking one of his blasters out again to stun the Anzati within.

Aresh's eyes widened as the Anzat rolled out of the way and came to his feet. It was barely a moment later that Aresh found himself on his knees in the corridor screaming as once more his mind was assaulted by the jedi's abilities. Lifting his blaster to try and stop the attack on hi brain Aresh pulled the trigger in hopes to knock his prisoner out once more.

"I told you to stay out of my mind kark!" He shouted while firing a series of stun shots from his blasters. Just as the Pirates began filing into the corridor at the far end.

Ra’s mouth hardened into a grim line of determination as he tasted the mind of his prey. He felt the man’s thoughts fleeing before his own powerful presence like schools of diminutive fish scattering before a shark. The Anzati could feel fissures spreading in the human’s resolve and focus. He could feel as his prey’s will died and his heart turned with confusion and fear. He knew he was winning — he knew his prey was weak and ready to be overpowered. However, with his focus honed on the human’s mind and his eyes blinded by the cloth around his face, he failed to stay aware of the other man’s body. The smuggler managed to raise a shaky hand, yelling out with the last shreds of his mental strength as he squeezed the trigger and unloaded a series of blasts at the Jedi. Ra’s senses took in the changes to his environment with incredible speed: in the nanoseconds that it took for the gun to be fired, he heard the click of the trigger, he smelt the singing hint of ozone in the air, and he felt the disruptive kinetic waves rolling through the air molecules of the ship. The Anzati’s body flicked backwards speedily, disconnecting his dominating presence over Aresh’s psyche as he focused on evading the shots. He dodged one, then two, then three — but a fourth hit him in the leg. As waves of numbness rolled over him, his limbs twitch spasmodically and gave out beneath him. Ra tried to raise his arms to catch himself as he fell, but before he even hit the ground a fifth shot struck him right in the chest. By the time he hit the floor, the Anzati was unconscious, knocked cold once again as a final shot zapped over his immobile body.

Aresh leaned heavily against the wall of the corridor as he sucked in ragged breaths. The gaggle of pirates standing nearby stood silent after having witnessed the brief but clearly painful fight between Aresh and his Anzat prisoner.

"What the hell are you all standing around for?" Aresh barked pulling the pirates from their daze and getting them to glare at him.

"We don't take orders from you Aresh, you ain't one of us." The largest among them, an abnormally large devaronian.

"Well aren't you the sharpest knife in the drawer." Aresh scolded. "Maybe you should go tell that to Hosk when he asks why the living, breathing Anzat Jedi I brought him isn't being hauled down to the slave pens? No? Then get him and the rest of the things I have been out collecting for your boss off the ship and appraised!" Aresh hollered as he pushed past to collect his personal items and A-4K3 from the ship's cockpit.

"One more thing!" He called over his shoulder. "I already took inventory of my score, so if any goes missing...well I suppose I could convince Hosk to let the Anzat warm up on you in the pits eh?"

With that final threat Aresh headed off to hopefully get all this business with Hosk handled and get back to making money for himself. Though he wouldn't mind some drinks and food if his host felt welcoming.

Meanwhile the pirates set to work hauling the jedi, now strapped to a dolly like carrier, as well as the ship's salvaged cargo off to the appraiser station.

When Ra came to, the Anzati groaned to find he was once again restrained. There was a pounding headache that felt like it might split his skull, and his mouth and throat were dry enough he was worried they might suddenly combust. He looked around groggily, his analytical mind once again adjusting to a sudden shift of fortunes. He seemed to be hanging from some shackles attached to the ceiling of the room he was in. The room itself appeared to be a grimy little cell, almost like a closet. There were electronic lights all around the rim of the room, and a long glass window on the wall across from him. There were three droids standing around him, two security models and one protocol.

The protocol droid stepped near, its blank robotic gaze taking note as the prisoner awoke. "Welcome to Tulq City, prisoner." Its monotonous voice intoned the same words as the weak-minded smuggler who had taken him prisoner, Ra noticed. "You are now the property of His Great Eminence Mr. Hosk. Please do not resist His Eminence's ownership, for it will result in unnecessary unpleasantness. Your life will be one in the arenas, and if you have it in you, you can reach great glory there."

Ruhr's modified Delta-7B exited hyperspace, the starfighter detaching from its Hyperspace Ring before heading into the wreckage. "No life signs? Not even a Mynock? That means either Ra's either dead or no longer in this system or he has left the area. We need to continue searching through this debris for him before heading to the nearest system." Ruhr Draay said to R3-D20 as he continued surveying the wreckage, seeing the remains of the Valhalla, a Victory I-Class Star Destroyer that had fought the Separatists over Telos. While he had been allowed to continue the hunt for Ra Ada, this was to be a solo mission.

Cornelius arrived at Tulq City, at least the immediate space of it. There had been a lead on the case of a Nubian handmaiden who was looking into the death of Senator Amidala; The official stance was that she had died due to complications from childbirth, however some people were just too persistent, it was the job of someone with a finer touch to take this out, not the Imperial Intelligence Direct Action Forces, however as the Clone Wars ended, it seemed that the Empire needed some form of assassins.

Landing on a secluded pad was easy, it was a pirate base and thus security was relatively loose, however as the now black and grey painted Nu-Class Shuttle landed, a pair of pirates had come to check on the new arrival, weapons raised. Luckily the cockpit of Imperial Intelligence ships were polarized so it was impossible to determine who was there of if there was anyone inside in general.

Cornelius got out of the cockpit and opened the door, the black and red Phase II armor covered by a ratty brown cloak which looked like it was made out of a grain sack. "Gentlemen, may I interest you in a bribe to keep my presence a secret?"

"You take me for a fool, human?" One of the pirates said.

Cornelius produced a few gold credits, throwing them in the air. "There's more in the back you can have in a chest, no joke."

The pirate pushed Cornelius aside, allowing himself to be pushed aside as a part of the act, the sound of a chest being opened and a squeal of glee came about as the pirate spoke in a different language, causing his partner to come in as well. Cornelius set the door to close in a minute as he got to them. He saw them gawking over the gold credits, unknown to them were actually seized counterfeit credits. The door closed and the two pirates noticed, but it was too late. Cornelius put a pair of shots into the two pirates, leaving them dead on the floor.

Cornelius grunted at the folded and crumpled pinup poster of Senator Chuchi in a rather provocative manner, meant as a joke by the maintenance crew, but a bit of a good thing for the empty wall. "You had the audacity to die on that? I hope that was painful."

He his the bodies somewhere discreet and searched their pockets for a map of the station, which there was a holodevice. Cornelius played around with it for awhile and he was greeted with a layout of most of the city. Cornelius uploaded it to the internal system of his helmet, after it was done he placed the helmet back on his belt with a clip. He got his things, mainly his NT-242 in a disguised hardcase, his Westar M-5 blaster rifle, checking the grenade launcher before hiding it in his cloak as well, and then his two pistols. Before locking the ship he also checked if his jetpack and ascension cable were working and synchronized, which they were; after that he entered the city proper, it was time to hunt he supposed.

After searching for a couple of hours, Ruhr Draay found multiple floating ARC-170s full of skeletons and not a single Anzati. "Looks like he's not here. Prepare to jump to hyperspace. Tulq City is the only fueling station near this debris field. It's half-city, half-space station and a haven for Pirates, Smugglers, and Arms dealers ruled by a Tetrarchy of Crime Lords. The perfect hidey hole, provided that he is smart enough to sell it. Imperial equipment is a valuable commodity on the Black Market, especially if the buyer is a Separatist Officer looking to rearm." Ruhr said to R3-D20 as he turned around, the Delta-7B reattaching itself to the Hyperspace Ring. Once the coordinates were locked, Ruhr jumped to Hyperspace.

Aresh and Hosk went back quite a ways. Both had come into their own around the same time, and both had worked together multiple times in the past. In fact prior to taking control of his uncle's band of pirates at Tulq, Hosk had often used the 'lenient' Officer Kairn's services to protect and inspect his cargo. When Aresh made the jump to a full blown smuggler's lifestyle, Hosk and Aresh had once again come to work together often to smuggle a variety of things including arms once the war had begun.

Now though with the Kairn Syndicate essentially gone for good, the power dynamic between the two had shifted drastically. Hosk still ran a rather powerful pirate gang and owned and operated his family's historical territory, which happened to be the ever growing Tulq City. Hosk was a surprisingly loyal man, to his friends at least. His band of criminals knew that stepping out of line would get them punished but Hosk had a bit of a name for himself as the rogue with a heart of gold. Or that was at least the image he tried to put out, as he held up one of the largest slave trading rings in this region of the galaxy, and along with that one of the most prolific arenas for blood sport in the outer rim.

As it was Aresh now sat at a massive table, giving the mental image of a king's dinner table, surrounded by Hosk and his highest ranking lieutenants. The mood was celebratory, it was a regular party, with plenty of food, drink, and girls, and most thankfully for Aresh, a few injectors to relieve the damage done by that damned jedi.

"I have to say my old friend, the thought of you bagging a jedi of all things fills me with joy." Hosk bellowed, seemingly beginning to feel the buzz from his alcohol. "You always do manage to bring in the best product for me. So lets go have a look shall we?" He said as he stood.

Aresh shot the man a grin before following him and their small entourage, including Hosk's current squeeze a Lethan Twi'lek girl with, considerable assets. They eventually made their way down to the pens and there before them sat the jedi, held behind a secure energy field, and fitted with a powerful collar to keep him in check should he get any ideas about trying to escape. Aresh felt a sick sense of pleasure seeing the Jedi that had attempted to melt his brain in such a state.

"A fine specimen indeed my friend!" Hosk shouted. He was already looking forward to the arena fights this jedi would participate in. It would be a headlining spectacle for possibly years if he could manage it.

"You listen up Jedi!" Hosk called out to his newest prize. "You are gunna be fighting for me in the arena for a good while. Fight well, earn me the ton of credits I know you can, and you won't be staying down here in the pens like a slave for too long eh? Win enough matches and I'll give you your own banquets, suite, and girls. So do well, or die. You droid, make sure he is ready for his matches." With that Hosk turned, leaning heavily on his woman by this point and the group made their way up to the banquet hall, where they could watch the arena fights on a massive holo-terminal while feasting and drinking themselves into a coma.(edited)

As they found their places Hosk leaned in closely to Aresh and whispered to him. A hearty amount of fumes coming with the man's breath.

"After your jedi fights Aresh, I have got a proposition for you so don't go running off on the Hummingbird just yet alright?" He said getting Aresh to nod while trying to avoid the smell attacking his nose.

"No problem Hosk, just ease up okay you smell like a brewery on Corellia." He replied getting a round of laughter from his 'friend' and those near enough to hear.

Ra Ada gazed passively at the leering crowd of scoundrels confronting him through the energy forcefield. The Anzati’s nose twitched as his cold eyes scanned the assorted group of criminals, picking each of them apart in his mind. He could smell the filth of their souls, the sloppy muddled mess of their minds. If he were like the rest of his species, and actually chose to gorge himself on the brains of lesser species, Ra was sure he would not lower himself to even tasting these specimens. They were wretched, the lot. Something hardened in the Jedi’s eyes as Hosk spoke boastingly to him, and he viewed the Weequay and his cohorts as if they expired dishes that had overgrown with mold. As Hosk turned away, stumbling drunkenly off to celebrate somewhere else, the Anzati took a sharp breath in and spoke.

“Hosk.” His voice was emotionless, but firm and harsh. It carried power with it, and as he released his words the Anzati allowed his mind to wrap around the consciousnesses of his foes. Their disordered thoughts easily broke down before his superiority, and he corralled them like sheep, giving them the life he wanted them to have, the mind he wanted them to know. Many of the pirates froze, broken from their inebriated celebratory mood as the Anzati’s mind gripped their own. “You are rotten. You will be purged, if you do not cleanse yourself. Bringing me here was a mistake. Your greed will be your undoing.” As he spoke, the Anzati constricted the mental grip he had around the assembled thugs. Two of them fainted, and one vomited. Others were visibly shaking, and only a few seemed to withstand his pressure.

“And you, smuggler.” The Anzati’s eyes bore into the back of Aresh’s head, smoldering through it and into the soft flesh of his brain. “You will have a chance for redemption yet to come. Remember who you are before it is lost in the filth.” With that, the Anzati broke his psychological strangulation of the group. Many of the pirates breathed with relief, some murmured worriedly, and others regained their confidence more quickly, trying to laugh off the Jedi’s intimidation.

The Delta-7B exited Hyperspace and detached from the Hyperspace Ring, the modified Starfighter heading straight for the hangar of Tulq City. Once they had landed, Ruhr Draay exited the cockpit and headed straight for the palace of Tiialoc The Hutt, the representative of the Nem'ro Clan in the Tetrarchy, with R3-D20 in tow. While word of an Anzati Jedi would've reached the big fish by now, the Exchange and Crimson Dawn would not be as forthcoming to Imperials as the Hutts.

While Hosk and the other pirates had by this point laughed off the words of the jedi when they saw him down below, Aresh was a different story. His mind repeatedly returned to his youth, and the beginnings of what eventually became his criminal career. His first instinct was to scoff and brush such thoughts off. Yet as he sat and nursed a large glass of Corellian brandy he couldn't get the jedi's words from his head. Deciding to try and force the thoughts out his mind through alcohol Aresh downed the rest of his drink before having another poured for him.

A short time later and several of the Pirates had retired to their own quarters for the night while Hosk dozed at the head of the table, loudly snoring. Aresh by this point was not wholly intoxicated but was definitely beyond the point of thinking clearly. That was why the alarm bells in his head seemed far too quiet when the young twi'lek slid into the seat beside him.

"So you really brought down that jedi?" She purred while eyeing him with a hungry stare.

"Whu-er Yeah, yeah. Found him on the run from the Empire. Hell of a fight he put up, but you see I'm just too good with my weapons to be beaten." He was taken off guard, but with the sight of a pretty woman eyeing him up the way she was he quickly turned on the charm and began boasting.

"Wow, you must be something else. With your weapon I mean. maybe you can show me some time?" The woman asked very clear with her intent shocking Aresh enough that his brain kicked back on for a moment.

"Wait, aren't you Hosk's girl? Who are you anyway?" He asked, only for his mind to shut off once more as she leaned into him, her considerable gifts erasing any willpower he had.

"Oh my, how rude of me. I'm Karsi. As for Hosk, oh what he doesn't know won't hurt him. Plus you both seem pretty close. You must go real far back. I'm sure he would understand. I mean I'm the one offering here right?" She said as she slid off him and stood up.

Aresh hesitated only a moment before downing another glass and following the red skinned temptress to her quarters. Soon the two were pawing each other and heatedly kissing. Aresh had just discarded his belt and blasters when suddenly Karsi stopped.

"Sorry lover boy. This wasn't for you." She whispered before rolling off the bed and flicking on the lights revealing that in his moment of passion Aresh had missed both Hosk and a handful of his men entering. Hosk's face was set in a mixture of rage and grief as he stared at Aresh.

"You know, old friend. I really did have an offer for you after everything. I was going to offer making you my partner here. Just like the old days. I just wanted to see if you were trustworthy. I was so sure I could trust you. I am heartbroken to see I was in fact wrong." Hosk said before turning away with the now dressed Karsi and leaving Aresh to be quickly stunned by Hosk's men and collapse heavily on the ground.

Cornelius had been walking about the city for awhile, checking the areas around for a good vantage point. According to the map he had taken there was one place, an old lookout tower in the center of the city more or less, back when the city was much smaller, used as an air traffic control tower which was now abandoned, sometimes home to whoever found it as a home.

He made his way there to it, however the door was locked of course, setting the hardcase down and pulling out a set of small tools, Cornelius began working on the lock, an old but reliable lock it was, probably dating back to the days of the Rusan Reformation maybe. It was a digital lock however, he could just break the thing, risking an alarm, or he could hack it, which he began working on while no one was around.

Picking the lock took much longer than expected and had damaged the system as well, the response of the door was slow, however he got the codes per se of the other doors needed, but it still took him awhile, technological hacking was never his forte.

Reaching the top, there was a commanding presence, but not as commanding as some of the buildings, not by height however but by splendor and grandeur. Cornelius first went about collecting old cans and metals and stringing them together, making an alarm system via a tripwire system. After that he shed the cloak and put his helmet on, the systems synchronizing properly. Going for the hardcase, he opened it and set up the modified NT-242 on a ledge, an old chair nearby for him to sit in. The railing provided minimal cover, and if he fired the odds of being spotted were high, but he could move around and hide again anyway.

Cornelius sat down on the chair, checking what he could see via his rangefinder, while getting into the city-wide communications, riding on the airwaves. He tried to get into the more encrypted channels such as the security forces channels, however only got into one or two, with clarity being less than optimal. Pulling out a plastic bag of homemade cookies, he sat down and waited from the shadows; it was going to be a long wait.

Ra Ada allowed his head to dip forward again as the pirates walked off. As they recovered, many of them delivered parting taunts and jeers. Ra did not react, remaining completely calm as he meditated on his situation in the Force. The Anzati was determined to remain at peace with the Force, faithful in its will. He told himself to be grateful for the trials that the Force put him through. The will of the Living Force is searchlessly great. A Jedi could read and hear and reflect on its greatness, but it is quite another matter to live it, this greatness. No one and nothing could ever in any way diminish this its eternal Sovereignty but the Force, in its mysterious ways, made itself lowly to a degree that the Jedi could not understand: in his own frail flesh it sought to attain absoluteness. The Force sought to make him, and every Jedi (perhaps even every living being) an embodiment of its magnificence. Ra knew from his own experience: the Force hungers for life's perfection. In sanctioning the Jedi's grievous struggles against the temptation of Darkness, the Force would have him victorious. If he would just not abandon it in the worst moments of his humiliation by the enemy, the Anzati believed with all his heart that the Force would certainly come to him. Salvation would come to him. The Force is the conqueror, not the Jedi. But the Force attributes its victories to its servants, because it is they who have suffered. Ra would not hesitate to suffer for the Force. Wherever it led him, he would go -- and this den of serpents was nothing compared to the glory of the Light Side.

Ra did not resist as the protocol droid conducted various medical scans, nor did he argue when it delivered news of his fate. Ra was to fight in the arenas tonight, debuting as a celebration of Hosk's mighty rule. The Anzati was still and silent as they led him through dark chambers of the giant space station, a group of bodyguards pushing him along the hallways of the high-security slave pens where Hosk kept all of his combatants. Finally, they reached a semicircular room with a large door on the other end. The guards pushed Ra into that room, and then an energy field sprung to life between them, trapping the Anzati in the room. As he stood there, staring impassively at the guards through the energy barrier, one of them, a sinisterly smiling Twi'lek male, stepped up to the barrier. "I've heard big things about you Anzati, and even bigger ones about the Jedi. Some say you're mythical, unkillable." The Twi'lek sneered, and spat onto the energy barrier. His saliva burst into steam with a hiss as it hit the forcefield. "I don't buy it. I think I'm gonna get to see a myth die today." He chuckled happily.

Ra considered replying, but before he could, there was a noise behind him. The Jedi turned, watching as the large reinforced doors on the other side of the room began to slide open with a rusty churning noise. As they opened, a bright spotlight beamed in through the crack, illuminating the Jedi. A huge roar of applause split the air, and Ra blinked, adjusting to the light. The door had opened onto some enormous chamber, its walls packed with what must have been tens of thousands of beings, the floor of the circular chamber covered in white sand. Ra realized he was standing at an entrance to the arena.

As the Jedi stood staring at the crowd, a deafeningly loud announcer's voice thundered across the arena. "AAAAAAAAAAND NOW, THE SURPRISE OF THE NIGHT, THE ULTIMATE CONTENDER, THE CHALLENGER OF THE CENTURY! BROUGHT TO US BY OUR VERY OWN LORD HOSK, DELIVERED BY HIS FAITHFUL FRIEND ARESH KAIRN," As the voice boomed, enormous screens ringing the arena lit up with images of Hosk and Aresh's faces. "A FOE TO BRING THE COMPETITORS TO THEIR KNEES! AN ANZATI JEDI!!!" At this, the crowd erupted into even more fanatical cheers, thumping their feet and clapping their hands together wildly.

Ra sighed, palms clasped calmly in front of himself, back set proudly, stepped onto the white sand of the arena. “By the will of the Force,” he thought, "the Light will grant me victory."

Ruhr Draay entered the palace of Tialoc The Hutt with R3-D20 in tow, the Gamorreans backing off after seeing the Lightsaber, having heard of what happened the last time someone got between someone with a Lightsaber and a Hutt. "What business does a Jedi have with the mighty Tialoc of the Nem'ro Clan?" Skoll, the albino Wookie that served as Majordomo for Tialoc The Hutt, said in Shyriiwook as he pulled out his sidearm. "I'm no Jedi. The Lightsaber is merely a trophy taken from one of my recent hunts." Ruhr said to Skoll, the albino Wookie lowering his gun and escorting him to the throne room, Tialoc The Hutt feasting on Bantha Steak as Skoll walked towards the Hutt and whispered to him. "A hunter of Jedi arrives at the court of mighty Tialoc? Perhaps we can help each other out." Tialoc The Hutt said to Ruhr as he stared at him. "Anyone you need rubbed out?" Ruhr asked Tialoc The Hutt. "Pars Chaimar. Ex-Banking Clan. Head of the Tulq City branch of Crimson Dawn. Spice Running always runs the risk of drawing competition, but I draw the line at selling Imperial weapons and fighters to the Separatist Holdouts, even if Pars is only the middle man in such transactions. Bring me his head and his heart and I will help you find your Jedi. Fail and I will take your R3 as collateral." Tialoc The Hutt said to Ruhr Draay, the Inquisitor heading out the door and leaving R3-D20 at the palace.

As Ra stepped evenly to the center of the arena, his glinting eyes scanning the seething masses of excited spectators, the announcer voice spoke out again: "ANDD NOWWWW, FOR HIS FIRST TRIAL, THE MYTHICAL ANZATI JEDI WILLLL FACE.... THE DIANOGAAAA!!!!"

The crowd roared with applause once again, and the electronic lights around the edges of the arena flashed dramatically. Ra looked down, startled, as the floor beneath him began to move. A long thin crack appeared in the ground, directly beneath his feet. The crack quickly began to grow, two semicircular slabs of the sand-covered arena floor sliding backwards to reveal a pit of dark water beneath. Reacting swiftly, Ra leaped to the side, landing beyond the edge of the circle of dark water, and looking down into it. The crowd quieted as the Jedi peered into the unreachable depths. A suspenseful stillness filled the air for a long moment, and then -- SPLOOSH! The calm surface of the water broke suddenly as three huge tentacles flew out from the depths, flailing in the air and swinging viciously at the Anzati.

The Jedi's body twisted acrobatically through the air, weaving, dodging, and ducking as more tentacles flew from the water and joined in the flailing onslaught. Ra remained calm and determined, evading each of the curling and groping slimy limbs as they tried to beat him, grab him, or tear him apart. "The only way to victory is through the Force," Ra reminded himself, watching as the frantic tentacles swirled in the air. Focusing his attention on their movement, Ra avoided each of the tentacles, pulling back beyond their reach and straightening up to look at the beast. The dianoga continued swinging its limbs for a few seconds in frustration after its food had moved back, then changed tactics. The long thick tentacles slammed into the sandy ground, digging in hard enough to cause small cracks to grow in the duracrete floor of the arena. Slowly, ominously, the beast began to rise, pulling itself from the pit with the strength of its tentacles. The beast rose, dripping slime and water, a writhing mass of wet flesh and rubbery tentacles, a low reverberating hiss emanating from its hook-toothed mouth.

Ra watched it calmly, his eyes flicking over its massive body with little concern. As the beast began rolling towards him over the sandy ground, the Anzati lifted a single hand, closing his eyes and reaching out in the Force. "The only way to the Force is through life. All things that the Force hath made are alive in me." The Anzati let the power of the Force roll through his mind, emanating in psychic waves across the space of the spiritual plane and into the spirit of the Dianoga. The massive creature paused, seeming confused, as the Anzati pierced its mind with his own. "In the the eternal birth of life the Force pours into us the plenitude of its Being." Ra's meditative insight continued as he grappled with the mind of the creature, feeling the entire length and depth of its life. "Life is the glory of the Force. Life is the consummate fullness of the revelation of the Force." The meditation continued, and the monster began to slowly roll back, swaying uneasily on its tentacled limbs as it began to dip back towards the pool. "The Jedi is the hunter. The hunter is the Hunt, is the life of the Force, its strength, power, might, kingdom, wisdom, omniscience, creativity, love.." The Dianoga began to slide into the water. "He that hath seen life hath seen the Force. He that hateth the Hunt hateth the Force also. He that follows the Hunt hath everlasting life: and he that follows not the Hunt shall not see life; but the Darkness of the Force abide in him."

With this thought, Ra made his final exertion, completely overpowering the mind of the Dianoga. The lesser being slithered completely back, dropping timidly into the dark pool at the center of the arena and disappearing beneath the surface, cowed and subdued by the Anzati's powers of mental control. Ra dropped his hand, letting out a long exhale, his shoulders sagging slightly from the mental exertion. Regaining his composure after a moment, Ra turned back to face the crowded walls of the arena, filled by a booing audience.

Ruhr Draay approached the abandoned security station that served as the headquarters for Crimson Dawn, a pair of thugs approaching him with blasters drawn. Within seconds, Ruhr pulled out his Lightsaber and decapitated both of them. He then headed inside, only for his Lightsaber to be knocked out of his hand by a Quarren. Ruhr instantly reacted by using Force Choke on both the Quarren and a nearby Rodian. "Want my advise. Get out while you still can." Ruhr said to the Quarren and the Rodian as he released them, the two thugs leaving the building. Ruhr picked up his Lightsaber and continued heading further to the Muun's office, knowing that the higher-ups will most likely make an example of the two thugs he sparred. A Sentinel Droid and a Twi'lek fired on Ruhr, the Inquisitor deflecting the blaster bolts back towards his attackers, the droid and Twi'lek lifeless falling to the ground. He continued hacking his way through thug after thug as he made his way to the main office, only to stop when he heard saw the bodyguards. They were an odd assortment: a Lasat wielding a two-handed Vibroblades, a Trandoshan with a DC-15, a Gungan with a Slugthrower, a Chiss with an E-5, and a Cathar dual wielding DC-17s. Ruhr engaged all five, the Lasat going down with a single swing to the chest. The Trandoshan opened fire on Ruhr, only for Ruhr to outstretched his hand, the blaster bolt harmlessly hitting his palm. The Inquisitor retaliated by Force Choking the Trandoshan, the bodyguard collapsing to the ground as he suffocated. "What are you?" The Chiss asked Ruhr as he fired two shots E-5, only for the first blaster bolt to be deflected back into his face and the other deflected into the Gungan's chest. The Cathar raised her weapons, only to be run through with a Lightsaber.

The glaring electronic lighting of the arena flashed annoyingly in Ra's face. The Anzati's eyes were built for adaptability like the rest of his body, and were far from sensitive, but he was used to ideally low-light scenarios and thrived in places that resembled the naturally dim landscape of his mist-covered homeworld. Ra squinted against them, looking around at the raucous crowd viewing him from the stands and listening as the announcer's voice boomed to life on the speakers once again.

"PERHAPS THE JEDI IS MORE MIGHTY THAN WE THOUGHT!! TO QUELL THE DIANOGA WITHOUT LANDING A STRIKE... VERY IMPRESSIVE!! BUT WILL HE FIND HIS NEXT FOE SO EASY TO BEST?!"

As the voice died out and the lights flared in excited patterns around the building, Ra heard the loud noise of groaning metal. Turning his head to the source of the noise, Ra Ada watched as one of the many gates ringing the arena slowly rolled open. A moment of suspenseful silence hung around the arena as Ra stood watching the dark opening with calm anticipation -- and then the silence was broken, a huge horrific roar ripping through the air with such force that the sand around the opening of the gate flew back. The crowd erupted into cheers as the roar shook the floor, and Ra's body filled with nervous tension as the source of the roar came charging out of the darkness. A huge furry white beast, a massive Wampa, came storming out of the gate, eyes bloodshot and fur stained red. Ra watched as the monster charged at him, its clawed arms raised and ready to tear him to shreds. The Jedi waited until the Wampa was nearly on top of him to react, leaping backwards in a flip that sent him flying away from the Wampa's grasp and across the arena. Ra landed on the other side of the dark pit of the Dianoga, watching as the Wampa roared in confusion as he suddenly escaped it and, unable to stop its movement, continued charging straight into the water.

[Flarbinia]

The beast crashed into the pit with a huge splash, sending water everywhere and causing the crowd to go crazy with excited shrieks and cheers. It floundered for a moment, thrashing about, until one of its furry arms managed to grab ahold of the edge of the pit. Roaring angrily, the Wampa began to heave itself out of the water to charge at Ra -- however, in its struggles, the beast had awakened Ra's former foe. As the Wampa began to crawl out of the pit, a thick tentacle suddenly shot from the depths, wrapping around its waist and tightening with crushing force. The Wampa roared in confusion and rage and let go of the edge of the pit, falling back into the water. It tried to claw against the thick limb encircling it but as it struggled more long slimy tentacles began to emerge from the water, wrapping around the Wampa's arms, legs, neck, and torso. A horrific battle ensued as the Wampa tried to stay afloat, but the Dianoga was in its own element, and overpowered the furry beast. After a few moments, the Wampa was submerged. It continued to struggle, its thrashing fight with the Dianoga sending up waves and bursts of bubbles, and the audience fell into a hushed awe. Finally, after multiple minutes, the surface of the water went still and even. The struggle had stopped. The viewers leaned forward in their seats, staring at the deep pool that lay at the center of the arena. A moment passed. Then another. Then -- a huge wave of bubbles rushed to the surface, followed by a loud belching noise, and a projectile shot from the depths, rolling across the sand and stopping near Ra's feet. Ra looked down, staring at the object at his feet -- the decapitated head of the Wampa, stuck in the dull expression of suffocation it had died in. The crowd erupted into deafening cheers.

Ruhr Draay used Force Push to smash a hole through the rusty blast door. "Who sent you, Jedi? The Exchange? The Broken Horn Syndicate? Hondo?" Pars Chiaman asked Ruhr Draay as the one who had killed his bodyguards entered the room, Lightsaber still ignited. "If you had simple sold Imperial weapons and Starfighters to the Black Sun or the Pykes, I would not know that you even existed. However, by selling to the enemies of the Empire, you signed your death warrant." Ruhr said to Pars Chiaman as the Muun pulled out his blaster pistol, only for the Jedi hunter to outstretch his hand and move his fingers upwards, Pars finding himself flying towards his assailant, the Lightsaber blade going through his sternum, the Muun desperately gasping for air. Ruhr pulled out his Lightsaber and with a single strike, lopped off his head, following it up by shoving his fist into the Muun's chest and ripping out one of his three hearts. With the head of the Tulq City branch of Crimson Dawn dead, the Jedi Hunter headed back to Tialoc's palace.

Once again the voice of the announcer resounded from the speakers that ringed the arena. The noise was beginning to become annoying to the Anzati, the loud words grating harshly against his sensitive ears that were designed to pick up on the nearly imperceptible traces of prey in the misty wilds of Anzat. "WHAT A SHOW! THE JEDI LIVES UP TO HIS REPUTATION! BUT WILL HE BE ABLE TO SURPASS YET ANOTHER OF HOSK'S MIGHTY BEASTS?!?"

As the announcer left the crowd hanging on his words, yet another of the gates ringing the arena began to creak open. Ra turned slowly, a long breath of frustration escaping him. The shadows hid the details of the monster as it began to emerge. At first all Ra could make out was an amorphous, blob-like shape of writhing flesh. Slowly, however, the creature rolled out into the bright lights of the arena. "A Rathtar," Ra thought, tensing up in preparation as the creature rolled towards him. "Well," Ra reasoned with himself as the disgusting monster gained ground on his position. "If these people want a show, perhaps I should give them a show."

With that, the Anzati leapt through the air, soaring into combat with the beast. The fight was a blur of wild motion, the Rathtar flailing and striking with its thick, scaled tentacles, and snapping with its circular rows of fangs. Ra was an elegant and untouchable, evading attacks with such fluidity that he seemed to be almost made of liquid. He slid and dodged whiplike tentacles and seeking fangs, finally gaining an opening on his foe. The Rathtar swung one of its limbs at him, but the Anzati caught it firmly in a clawed hand, squeezing the rough flesh of the monster with crushing force. Then, as his face twisted with deadly determination, the Anzati ripped the tentacle in a twisting motion, tearing it straight from the Rathtar's body. The monster squirmed in pain, thick green blood squirting from its torn stump. Taking advantage of his prey's weakness, Ra leaped skillfully onto the Rathtar's back, straddling the orb that was its body and head. With the bloody tentacle still hanging limply in one of his hands, Ra closed his other into a fist and struck downwards at one of the many eyes crusting the Rathtar's skin. His fist hit with supernatural strength, crushing the soft orb of eyeflesh beneath it. The Rathtar shuddered violently, trying to throw Ra Ada from its back, but he would not be moved. Dropping the dead limb, Ra raised both his hands above his head, flexing his claws for the entire arena to see. With a vicious hiss, Ra drove his hands downward into two other eyes. His clawed strikes drove straight through the Rathtar, reducing its bulby eyes and the soft flesh beneath it to pulp. His hands went deep into the Rathtar, reaching its brain. Baring his sharp teeth, the Anzati tore at the insides of the monster's skull, shredding its brain from the inside out with his hands plunged into its skull. Finally, the monster stopped struggling, and Ra felt its life slipping away completely.

His chest rising and falling as he caught his breath from this exertion, the Jedi rose from the corpse and stepped away. His hands hung at his sides, completely soaked in green blood, and the noise of the cheering crowd rang in his ears.

Ruhr Draay returned to the palace of Tialoc The Hutt with the head and heart of Pars Chaiman. "You have completed your task. Very good." Tialoc said to Ruhr as the Jedi Hunter handed him the Muun's heart, the Hutt devouring it in front of him. "I have done a favor for you. Now it is time that you held up your end of the bargain." Ruhr said to Tialoc The Hutt. "The Tulq Family are at the top of the food chain. If your Jedi was onboard the station, then he would most likely be in Hosk's Arena by now. The only way a Jedi Hunter like you is gonna get in there is to allow yourself to be captured by Hosk's men." Tiakloc said to Ruhr, the Jedi Hunter leaving Tialoc's Palace. While duty demanded that he get sent to the Arena, honor forbid him from being captured without a fight.

Ra tried to regain his composure as the intensity of the arena began to bore down on him. His predatory mind was naturally attuned to violence, naturally excited by bloodshed. To kill other beings activated deeper instincts hidden in places that were hard to reach. He felt the thrill of the Hunt starting to come alive in him. Ra tried to release this thrill into the peaceful flow of the Light Side of the Force, but it was hard not to be contained by it, led by it, controlled by it. He was having difficulty fighting his hunger, his need to dominate and consume the minds of weaker beings.

In this condition, Ra barely paid notice as the announcer spoke in a booming voice, heralding the entrance of new combatants. The Anzati was aware as five gates rolled open around the edge of the arena. Finally he looked up when the new enemies began to circle in on him and danger was eminent.

Two of them, a massive and brutal looking Wookiee and a sly Lasat with two shining vibroblades, charged in directly. Ra weaved past them with ease, dodging their strikes as if he were an untouchable shadow. A frenzied Geonosian came flying down on him in a flurry, but Ra knocked him back with two quick strikes and struck his neck with so much force on the third that his hand tore straight through like it was a weapon, decapitating the bug. As he turned, a fourth enemy, a hulking Besalisk, barreled down on him. Ra sidestepped the charge and pulled the large pirate onto his back with a telekinetic surge of the Force, then drove his foot through the Besalisk’s skull, crushing it with one blow. Finally, as Ra turned back to the Wookie and Lasat, he felt a series of harsh burns flair across his back. He whipped around and grunted with pain, coming face to face with a sneering Clawdite gunmen holding a smoking blaster pistol.

Before Ra could charge the gladiator, his two earlier foes charged in on his once again. Ducking under their strikes, Ra reached out with the Force and touched their minds. They were weak. The Lasat let out a terrified scream and crumpled immediately, his consciousness shattered by the Anzati’s telepathic strike. The Wookiee roared and dropped to his knees before Ra. The Jedi snarled, baring his sharp teeth, and drove his claws into the Wookiee’s face, then ripped downwards, tearing it off. The Wookiee fell backwards, writhing and failing, until Ra stomped downwards on his neck with crushing force and ended his suffering.

Ruhr Draay stopped in the middle of the street and reached for the Lightsaber. "I know that I am not familiar with Tulq Station, but needing to ask for direction is not the same as being deaf." Ruhr said to the thugs, recognizing one of them as a B1 Battle Droid by the sound of his footprints. "Give up, Jedi. We have you surrounded and won't hesitate to shoot, even if Hosk pays less for wounded fighters." The B1 said to Ruhr as he and the others pointed their blasters at him. "So you have gone from the laughing stock of cannon fodder to the leader of a small time Bounty Hunter crew? Poor choice in career." Ruhr said to the B1 as he rushed the Battle Droid and decapitated it with a Schii-Cho strike. The other bounty hunters immediately opened on Ruhr, the Inquisitor blocking their blaster bolts as he closed the distanced and began cutting them down one by one. Within minutes, they were cut down, Ruhr Draay extinguishing the Lightsaber. However, within minutes, he was shot with a stun blast, the Inquisitor falling to the ground unconscious.

Ruhr saw the interior of a Jedi Temple, the inside made of wood and straw instead of stone and Durasteel, the design of the floor indicating that it was hidden in the canopy of a forest. In a sparring arena, man with a long blonde beard and gray shabby robes drew his bronze hilted Ligthsaber and ignited the blade, the purple light being reflected by the polished brass. "Another potential future, but not one where I remain in the Inquisition." Ruhr thought to himself as a woman in brown robes similar to those worn by his potential future self was standing over a defeated Quarren with a blue bladed Lightsaber in her hand, the poor Padawan missing a hand. "I apologize, Master Draay." The woman said to Ruhr as she ignited her Lightsaber and placed it back on her belt, her master following suite. "Don't apologize, Sarissa. Davey sprayed ink in your eyes and he will be punished once he's fully recovered. However, you ain't gettin' off the hook either. You will be cleaning the library for the next two months." Master Draay said to his apprentice before everyone left the room, a Zabrak Jedi being amongst them. "Impossible. General Draay was captured during the Battle of Vjun and sent to Coruscant where he was interrogated and executed." A familiar voice said as Ruhr Draay opened his eyes, the vision having ended. "Mjolnir, Slash, Cremation, Tempest, Ghost. As far as the wider galaxy is concerned, that is exactly what happened. The truth is that like you, I serve the Empire." Ruhr said to the Clone with a hammer crowned with thunderbolts on his shoulder plate as he stood up and looked at the five Clone Troopers: an ARC Trooper, a Clone Trooper, a Flame Trooper, a pilot, and a Clone Sniper.

Ruhr and Mjolnir were escorted out of their cell by Commando Droids, the Inquisitor and the ARC trooper heading to the arena as a pair of Commando Droids broke off from the group and escorted a Neimodian out of his cell. Within an hour, they arrived at the entrance to the arena, Ruhr being given a Beskad with a broken blade while Mjolnir was given a Gaderffii Stick and the Neimodian was given a pair of Electro Swords. They entered the Arena to the sound of applause, the two of them being careful to avoid the pool in the center of the arena. Suddenly, a large gate began to open, Ruhr turning his attention to it. Once it had opened, a large lumbering beast covered in armor of Durasteel plate entered the Arena and stepped on the headless corpse of Gekriss, roaring at the four gladiators. "Will you look at that? An ARC Trooper, a Separatist, and a pair of Jedi fightin' together for their survival. The Galaxy has a twisted sense of humor." The Neimodian said to to Mjolnir as the Rancor began its charge.

Slowly Aresh opened his eyes. Unsurprisingly, he found himself deprived of his gear beyond the clothes on his back and sporting some new jewelry. Sadly, it lacked any sort of fashion sense in favor of functionality. A slave collar made for a poor necklace in his opinion. Then again Aresh had never had a problem with it around someone else's neck. Maybe he just couldn't pull it off right. He'd seen plenty of Twi'lek girls look down right mesmerizing in the damn thing. Though maybe it was the lack of other bits of fashion that really made the collar 'work'.

Pulled from the blatantly shitty line of humor that was his thoughts at the moment Aresh turned to look at the man at his new cell door. He wasn't anything memorable. Wasn't a big dumb brute or some sort of vile looking monster. Just an average man in average clothes with a small holo recorder in his hand.

"Finally you wake up. Look this has the boss's message for you so listen or don't my job is done." The bland man said as he tossed the device into the cell.

Aresh picked it up and activated the disc like machine and a small flickering image of Hosk appeared before him.

"Ah, my old friend. When you get this you will have likely just awoken from your, encouraged nap. I hope you enjoyed it. It will likely be the last time you sleep well for at least a good while. Now you are probably wondering my friend, what exactly is going on. Well this is for that exactly. See when you failed my little test I was stuck trying to figure out what to do with you. Technically, I could have just let you go. I mean we aren't actually partners and nothing really happened so no real wrong was committed. The problem is, I had hoped to use you to show all my boys and girls here what loyalty looked like. What friendship looked like. Sadly you let me, and yourself down. So that is out of the question now."

Aresh glowered at the recording. Hosk played up a hurt friend but Aresh had known him for years and knew the man didn't care enough to actually feel offended.

"So I started thinking, what to do, what to do, what to do. Then for a moment it came to me. You're a killer with those pistols of yours after all. Won't make as much off you as the gift you brought me, but still you might do well in the pits. At least for a while. But I stopped myself. I had to think. You actually are fond of that sort of thing. Always had a mean streak to you despite our business being more hands off. So I spent nearly a whole day thinking. What to do, what to do, what to do. And I finally had my solution. I can't just let you go. It is bad for business. I don't want to just kill you, it is too quick and you might actually want to go out in a blaze of glory or whatever. No something far better. I am going to sell you to spice miners. So you can spend the rest of your very short and miserable life digging for spice in some putrid hole in the outer rim. Perfect I know. Well this is goodbye old friend. I'll put your ship to good use. No worries there."

Aresh leaned back against the wall. The floor feeling as though it fell out from beneath him. While he wasn't particularly one that sought out death in a violent manner. He had always hoped to be ninety or so with a woman or two wrapped in his arms in a soft bed. Still going out quick to someone in the pits sounded far better than withering away in those hell holes that were slave operated spice mines.

He needed a way out of this place.

Ruhr was grabbed by the armored Rancor, the lumbering beast squeezing him. Mjolnir hit the Rancor with the Gaderffii Stick, the weapon hitting a dent from a previous battle, blood flowing from the hole. Ruhr stabbed the Rancor's hand with the Beskad, the broken Beskar blade puncturing the Durasteel, the beast releasing Ruhr as it roared in pain. The Neomoidan, seeing an opening charged the Rancor and slashed at it with the Electro Swords, the electricity coursing through the armor, the beast letting out one last roar before lifelessly falling to the ground. "Why didn't the Anzati attack? He had an opening, yet he just stood there. Is he a coward?" Mjolnir asked Ruhr as he looked at the silver haired Jedi. "More patient than a Trandoshan and able to use the Force, Anzati are natural born hunters. They wait for the right opportunity to strike before they kill you." Ruhr said to Mjolnir, reciting an excerpt from The Art Of Shii-Cho.

"Looks like we have a new gladiator team. However, looks can be deceiving. Send in our deadliest and best-equipped gladiators." Hosk said to the Second-In-Command, the other Trandoshan immediately heading to relay the orders. After a few minutes, the gates opened and thirty-nine warriors entered the arena, Gamorreans and Lasat clad in Beskar. The last of the gladiators entered the arena, a one-eyed Wookie wielding a Durasteel ball at the end of a Phrik chain, the spikes tipped with a cocktail of deadly poisons.

Ruhr Draay charged the Wookie while Ra and the others charged the Gamorreans and Lasat. The Wookie swung his spiked ball on a chain at Ruhr, the Inquisitor blocking the attack as Ra grabbed the Beskar spear from one of the Lasat and ran him through before turning his attention to the Gamorreas. The Wookie swung his weapon again, Ruhr dodging the spiked ball. The Wookie swung his spiked ball again as Ruhr regained the momentum. The slicing of flesh could be heard, nobody knowing who landed the blow until the Wookie was on his knees, the chain still in his hand. The Inquisitor quickly followed it with a series of blows, his opponent's head falling to the ground.

After a couple of hours, the gladiators were dead, throats slit, punctured, or torn out, the ground covered in the bodies of the slain. "It appears that we have new contenders. In two weeks, they will face my champion in combat and if one of them triumphs, they will win the honor of facing me." Hosk said to his Second-In-Command as he motioned for the four gladiators to be escorted back to their cells. Within minutes, the guards had disarmed Ruhr, Mjolnir, and the Nemodian before escorting them and the Anzati Jedi back to their cells.

"Who is he?" Ruhr Draay said to the Clones as he pointed at the man in the cell across the hall. "I haven't seen him before. Smuggler, judging by his attire. Hosk must've decided that he's outlived his usefulness." Mjolnir said to Ruhr as he looked at the adjacent cell. "Perfect." Ruhr said to Mjolnir in a confident tone as he used Force Push to send the door flying off its hinges, electricity sparking for a brief moment before walking towards the Smuggler and attempted to use Force Pull to rip the door off of the Cell. The bars creaked and crackled, but they did not budge. "Halt!" A guard shouted as his squad approached Ruhr and his cellmates, only for the Inquisitor to extend his arm, the guard clutching his throat as his subordinates charged the gladiators. Within a few minutes, the guards were all dead, Slash finding a key on the one that had been Force Chocked and handing it to the Inquisitor. "Listen, Smuggler. More guards will be on their way. We must head to the armory and retrieve our weapons." Ruhr said to the Smuggler as he unlocked his cell.

The arena. It had been bustling with activity for the better part of three hours maybe. Cornelius did not pay it too much attention, his main target was yet to be found. thus far, he had keyed over eight individuals to fit the profile of the inquisitive handmaiden, further observation had yielded eight negative cases as well. With a sigh, he put the NT-242 back down at a resting position. He was out of consumables, and he was growing very bored. Deciding on entertaining himself for a moment, he saw that the gladiatorial fight had finished, perhaps he should've paid attention to the fight after all. Two Jedi and a few clones were being ushered back underground. He could help the Jedi escape and bring back the clones maybe, it depended all on the main objective of course.

Scarbrand, this is Dispatch, come in Scarbrand.

Cornelius pressed a button on his wrist communicator and responded. "Scarbrand reads you, Dispatch. Send traffic, over."

"Director Isard has decided to put the smuggler Hosk above the handmaiden. Your new directive is to eliminate Hosk, with the handmaiden as a secondary target."

"Say again, Dispatch. Scarbrand is to forgo the handmaiden for Hosk?"

"That is correct, Scarbrand. Hosk is now priority one. Dispatch out."

Cornelius lifted the NT-242 again and looked through the powerful scope. It was not hard to find Hosk, he was the center of attention at the moment, and Imperial Intelligence had been keeping an eye on him and a few others for awhile, he supposed Director Isard had now classified Hosk as a threat to the Empire, more than the handmaiden oddly enough. The death of a high profile smuggler versus information that could defame the highest ranks of the Empire, it was an odd exchange, but one he didn't refuse, the truth was something everyone must know, but a slave trading bastard wiped from the galaxy was a good trade off too.

Putting the crosshairs over the head of Hosk, Cornelius pulled the trigger. The antimaterial rifle made its signature boom as it sent a green bolt right for Hosk's head. The noise of the stadium had masked the sound, what it didn't was the light emitted. Hosk only saw the green bolt when it struck him right in the cheek, after that, the immense heat of the plasma burst his head open like a squashed fruit. His death was brutal and in front of a crowd, the panic was evident and audible from here.


Cornelius ducked back down, it was certain that no one would have seen that, but he had to leave soon, or at least attempt to break the clones out at least, their service to the Empire wasn't finished just yet. The hardcase was disposable, so in the event he had to move, it could be done fast and with no worries of leaving any hardware behind. He took out a semi-spherical flash grenade and stuck one as far back as he could reach on himself, right on his back, and one on the front, merging it well with the additional armor plate he had. It was an age old tradition to flash anyone who was in proximity, he'd lose some of his hearing for sure, for awhile, but he would still be able to see, and if he could see, he could shoot.


Cornelius placed the NT-242 on his back via a sling and switched to his Westar M-5, placing a live grenade in the underbarrel launcher, and jumped down the tower, softening his landing with his jetpack. putting the old cloak back on himself, he walked towards the arena, but at the halfway point he pressed a button, destroying the portion of the tower he was in, destroying any evidence of his presence there.

"Hosk is dead! Now who's in charge?" One of the Trandoshans asked the rest of his squad as they entered the dungeon through the arena entrance and headed towards the nearest Cells. "Doesn't matter. Our orders are clear: dungeon is to be placed on lockdown until the new boss has dealt with any pretenders." The Trandoshan said to the others, only to grasp at his throat as he felt a vice-like grip around his wind pipe. "So Hosk is dead? Good. With him gone, the Tulq Family's grip is diminished." Ruhr Draay said to the Trandoshan as he snapped his neck, the Clone engaging the other Trandoshans, their experience in hand-to-hand combat and superior training allowing them to quickly gain the upper hand. "Are you coming, smuggler? Or would you rather languish in your cell?" Ruhr asked the smuggler.

Mjolnir grabbed the smuggler as Ruhr Draay and the Clones immediately headed for the armory, knowing that they will need to retrieve their weapons. "You want to know why I decided to spring you instead of leaving you to die? After being captured and tortured, I joined the Inquisition, an organization created for the sole purpose of hunting down and defeating the Jedi. I was sent with three other Inquisitors and two Legions to the forgotten jungle planet of Odessen with the goal of slaying a Jedi Enclave that had taken refuge in an ancient Jedi stronghold that had been abandoned for centuries. If it was not for pride born of easy victories, we would've succeeded in our goal. To redeem myself, I accepted the task of hunting down and slay the Jedi Master that had struck a cowardly blow against me. I managed to track him down to Tulq City, but to discover his possible whereabouts, I made a deal with the Hutts. Tialoc ate the heart of one of his rivals and he provided me with the information I was seeking. Like him, I believe that you can be a valuable asset to the Empire. Prove me wrong and you will be executed on the spot, as my duty requires me to leave no witnesses, honor be damned." Ruhr said to the smuggler as they continued down the hall.

Cornelius had finally reached the main fighting ring. The guards were more focused on securing the immediate area, and running to the old ATC tower that had just gone up in flames. The security thus far was lackluster, but there were a few guards. Initially he was going to sneak in, however it seemed he had too much on him as he attracted the attention of one guard. Lunging, he took out a vibroknife from his gauntlet and charged at the one guard.

The knife hit the man square in the chest. Cornelius wrenched it out in a reverse grip, however another guard had seen him. Thinking quickly he threw the knife, however it had missed. The Weequay was fast to pull out a blaster and shoot Cornelius square in the chest, deciding the best course of action, he fell down, pretending to be dead. The additional armor plate he had save his life once again.

The guard moved closer to the supposedly dead operative, and was about to key in a report, until Cornelius brought out his DC-15s and put three rounds into him. As the Weequay fell down, Cornelius got up. He knew stealth was no linger an option, so holstering his DC-15s, he brought to bear the Westar M-5 and entered the dungeon part of the arena.

Moving around he saw guards, slumped against walls, looking like their cause of death was by suffocation. "Well, this isn't good." Cornelius told himself. It was either one of two things, one or both of the Jedi snapped and gave into the dark side, or one of them was a Sith? Sithis? Whatever they were called.

Rounding the corner, he heard rummaging through a room, plastic and polymer materials being moved about. Turning, carbine raised, he saw a few Jango Fetts and a man in Jedi robes.

"Well, Jedi. Was that your work?" Cornelius asked, carbine pointed at him and the clones.

"Gentlemen, Order 66 is in effect. Why isn't he dead yet?"

"I was escaping and they got in my way. As for why my men didn't attempt to kill me on sight, Mjolnir will explain." Ruhr said to the Imperial Agent. "We were trapped when the Valhalla was scuttled, abandoned and forgotten by our superiors. A week later, we were waking up in our cell and The Haze, our mindless desire to kill Jedi on sight, was gone. How it happened ain't important right now." Mjolnir said to the Agent as he stared down the Imperial Agent. "Now, if you excuse us, we'll be heading down to the Armory to retrieve our weapons. I suggest you get out of here before the Anzati Jedi breaks out of his cage." Slash said to The Agent.

The Inquisitor headed down the hall, around the corner, and down another hall before spotting the armory, a Trandoshan and several Weequay defending it. The Trandoshan, having heard stories of a Jedi's prowess in close quarters combat, immediately opened fire with the blaster, his target merely outstretching his hand and blocking the blaster bolt with his hand before using a Force Choke, the Trandoshan dying within a few minutes while the rest of the guards helplessly watched. He then used the force to slam the Trandoshan's body into the armory door for good measure. The Weequay, blinded with rage and a desire for revenge, charged the Clones. However, unlike their opponents, the Clones remained clam and collected, their superior training allowing them to easily gain the upper hand on their foes.

Ghost and Slash looted key cards from two of the corpses. They walked to the armory door and swiped their cards through the readers, the door opening, revealing a small cache of weapons and armor. Ruhr and the Clones entered the armory, Mjolnir, Slash, Cremation, Tempest, and Ghost retrieving their weapons and ammo while the Inquisitor retrieved both his Lightsaber and the one that had belonged to Master Thor. "We need to get moving. The Anzati has probably broken out of his cell and drank the thugs guarding it dry by now." Ruhr said to the others before they headed to the hangar.

Several Trandoshans walked around a corner, noticing a man with a Westar M-5. "Looks like one of them Crimson Nova boys is here for the Anzati. He ain't gettin' out of this one alive." The Trandoshan officer said to the others as they drew their blasters and aimed them at their target.

[Uyuti]

Kalixinos on Moraband

Moraband

As Kalixinos walked down the ramp of his new ship, he scanned the world he had come to.
A place that had reached out through the force and called him to, a place of the dark side brimming with power and ancient knowledge. A place where he would learn to refine not only himself, but also expand his strength.

And it was nothing. Just a sweltering sandy pit of ruins with an oppressive sun hanging in the sky. Kalixinos could not believe that this of all places was where he was being called to. It was an absolute disappointment, was this truly the legacy of the dark side? Truly the place where the Sith flocked to in ancient days?

A flurry of beeps and electronic chirps came from behind Kalixinos, his new droid, R4-T9 came rattling up to him. It was clearly worried, but the kaleesh ignored it. He continued into the red desert with droid in tow.

Not long after, Kalixinos found himself in a deep sculpted canyon. The once natural cliff faces had been carved into the grotesque faces of old and forgotten sith lord interweaved with their equally foreboding and cruel architecture.
Many a giant face in the canyon valley led to tombs, though several the entrances had collapsed or had debris lodged in such a way to seal them off. Others still were dark and quiet, without live or sound.
Kalixinos had scouted into a few with his lightsaber, but only returned with a few trinkets and nothing of value or insight.

Over the course of several days, Kalixinos had come to understand that the canyon valley was simply the first stretch of a vast network of sith tombs. Each new path into the grottos for a different lord, spanning many different eras of time, or so he thought he was no archeologist and had little interest in discerning such things. Eventually though, he would come to feel the tug again. The pull of the dark side, the invisible power of the Force drawing him to something.

The pull would bring Kalixinos to a new tomb, one which he had not seen in the time since he had arrived. And indeed, had it not been for the influence of the Force, he would’ve never come to this one.
It was deeply unlike the others, this one was set apart from the others, having been the termination of a long empty corridor of the canyon. And unlike the typical sith tombs as Kalixinos had come to understand, this one was unadorned or marked.
It was a simple carved arch in the red rock, no faces guarded each flank, no inscriptions of terrible glory, nor indication for which person this burial sight belonged.

Kalixinos ignited his lightsaber as he stepped inside, the red glow providing him a guiding light. His droid protested exploration, as it always did, with a scared flurry of beeps, chirps, and whistles, but the Kaleesh ignored it instead carrying on. Power was here, he could feel it.

The entrance area was a small room, ten feet by ten feet, with body sized alcoves carved out of the walls on both sides. Slotted into each were ancient mummies and skeletons, each in various states of desecration and disintegration; above each alcove though were markings in a language Kalixinos did not understand, though clearly worn away by age and weathering.
Regardless, he pressed deeper in. The rest of the tomb was much the same, long dark corridors with the same mummy filled alcoves. Each ascetic and spartan as the first, though with each new chamber the storage area grew larger and larger, with more bodies in each.

This continued for quite some time, though as he went deeper, Kalixinos could feel the pull of the Force get stronger and stronger.

Eventually though Kalixinos would arrive upon the final chamber, a larger cavernous room that opened out from the corridor leading in. In the center, on a short, raised dais rested a heavy stone sarcophagus. Kalixinos stepped inside, checking for his droid as he did so, it had disappeared. Either it had fled in fear or had been snatched by some unknown assailant; Kalixinos shook his head at the situation but continued inside.

The kaleesh moved toward the sarcophagus, his lightsaber still raised and lit. This was it; the pull of the Dark Side was strongest here. The oppressive force pulling at him, clawing at his brain and yanking on his heart. Kalixinos looked upon the sarcophagus lid, the heavy stone lid bore a single set of markings: A name, one scratched out and obscured, unreadable even if he did know the language.

Never the matter, Kalixinos was not superstitious nor a bit concerned about disturbing the resting place of the deceased.
Through the force, Kalixinos lifted off the lid and cast it into the stone backwall, peering inside. In there was more of the same, cracked bones and crumbling rags, the only thing of note was a single small metallic medallion lying in the center of the remains.
Kalixinos reached inside and removed the medallion, shaking the dust and debris loose from the artifact. It’s surface smooth, somehow having remained untarnished despite its years. On the face of the object was a string of characters, repeated on both side, in the same language that had marked the sarcophagus and other tombs.

Kalixinos tucked the medallion away on his person, but his disappointment was immeasurable. The pull of the force had disappeared the moment he had opened the sarcophagus, the power of the dark side dissipating in an instant.
The Kaleesh waited for something to happen, something to make itself apparent, but nothing did, and so Kalixinos made his way back out of the crypt, eventually finding his droid waiting back at the entrance.
At his ship, Kalixinos locked himself inside the spacecraft and made himself comfortable on the crude bed, choosing not to eat as his disappointment had him not hungry.
- - -
Kalixinos awoke suddenly and viciously, the scars on his back searing. He quickly picked himself up and took in his surroundings. Several things quickly became apparent. First were his clothes; gone were his shirt, jacket, pants, and boots, as well as his personal items. Instead he was now dressed as a slave again, in a simple loincloth and cloth wrapped around his hands and feet. He instinctively touched his face, feeling at least somewhat relieved that his mask was still present, he had yet to be shamed with a bare face.
The second thing he noticed, was his location. He wasn’t on his ship, no, he was back in the crypt in the sarcophagus room. But it was different now, the room was now lit with touches that had not been there before. And indeed, the entire room was different. The sarcophagus was new now, as though it had just been made, it’s lid carefully placed to the side. And no body laid in it, nor had it appeared one ever did. Kalixinos turned, intent on escaping, but was stopped by the appearance of a strange new figure. The first soul other that Kalixinos had seen since his arrival. A shock to him, he had expected to remain alone, to be the sole living being on this planet. Kalixinos automatically stepped back, he was without his lightsaber, and he could sense he was utterly outmatched by the new presence. The Dark Side surrounded this new figure, it was like the being was a pit of blackness and hatred.

Kalixinos only stopped backing up when he finally felt the sarcophagus at his back, the cold stone was no reassurance as it felt like terrible ice. The figure was dressed in pitch black robes, and deep red armor, their face obscured by a large hood which hid their face in a deep shadow. Kalixinos could only see a faint outline in the torchlight.
The Kaleesh looked around for a way out, but in this, the crypt was very much the same. There was only the one entrance, which the dark figure blocked. Kalixinos began fearing for his life, standing there in the uncomfortable silence of a grave.

“You are unfit to be a Sith,” the Dark Figure declared, the sudden sound and unsettling and unnatural tone causing Kalixinos to flinch, “You are indeed unfit to even call yourself an enemy of the Jedi. Still holding onto the hope you’ll be worth something, that someone would ever love you, that you will ever have purpose.”

Kalixinos did not grant a reply, though it seemed the figure did not care for one.

“Though, it has been many thousands of years since I last had an apprentice, and with so few to pick from, you shall be accepted as default,” the Dark Figure said.

This time it seemed as though the figure was demanding a reply, so Kalixinos yielded, “I am honored, my lord.”
The words were not his own, Kalixinos could feel himself being forced to say them. But he did not have time to ponder this puppetry.

The Dark Figure lifted his hand into the air and made clenched his fingers together. With motion, Kalixinos began to rise into the air against his will, his throat restricting making it hard to breath. He clutched at his throat, but to no avail, Kalixinos was being choked. Quickly, his left arm yanked out away from his body; Kalixinos could feel a burning sensation on his flesh. Looking down at his outstretched arm, Kalixinos could see a tattoo being burned onto the flesh of his forearm. A group of words in the ancient language of the Sith, the same as had been on the medallion, the name of the Dark Figure.

“I am Darth Xaliphagus, the Bloodletter. And I declare you my apprentice, Kalixinos Sarr, my slave forever.” The Dark Figure said, the voice reverberating around the crypt room.

Kalixinos could hear the figure laughing, a deep awful laugh, as his vision failed him and he began to pass out.

- - -

Kalixinos awoke coughing, hacking and gasping for breath. He felt as though his head been forcefully held underwater for hours on end. Minutes would pass before the coughing would subside and the Kaleesh could collect himself.

Kalixinos took note of his surroundings once more; he was back on his ship, in the bed he had laid down in the night before. All his things were as before, he was dressed in his own clothes, his lightsaber close at hand, his droid charging in the corner of the room. A gentle sunlight streaming through the window.

Kalixinos immediately checked his body.
On his forearm was Xaliphagus’s name, tattooed like it had been in the dream. Kalixinos immediately panicked, clutching his chest, and there, his heart sank. Underneath his hand, he could feel it, the cold medallion he had pilfered from the crypt. It now hung from a string from Kalixinos’s neck, he had not done this himself. He had not put on the medallion the night before.
He tried to will himself to remove the cursed object, but no matter how much Kalixinos tried, the object was unmovable. It now permanently hung from him, as though it was a physical part of his body. A vital organ separate from his innards.

Kalixinos cursed himself and his luck, what had he stumbled into? What a stupid thing he had done. What a dark path he had gone down, he should’ve listened to Vrudun. But it was too late to turn back now, the Dark Side had eaten him whole.

[Miekzhemy]

co-written w/ Imperial Republic and Revlona

Jedi Padawan Rhys Aatahl
Jedi Master Nardrashtasch
Jedi Knight Vrudun Tumara

---

Aboard the Vigil

Lying as still as death, Master Nardrashtasch lay. Since his duel with the bounty hunters on Odessen that left his body broken and him only inches away from death's cold embrace into the Cosmic Force, he remained locked in his slumber. With the Miraluka Padawan's assistance in healing his body, all that remained of the battle was areas of scorched fur and a single circular patch of bare skin on his chest where once a lightsaber had dwelt in. It had been nearly an hour since the Padawan's last visit and now, Nard's face twitched. A low growl emanated from his dry lips as his neck strengthened to move his head a small amount to the side. The Master's eyes slowly opened, their irises snapping closer after being bombarded with such sharp lightning above him. Very slowly, he lifted his head, trying to identify where he had been, though he could recall nothing. Instinctively, he reached down to his belt to grab a hold of his lightsaber. His levels of anxiety rose as his hand met nothing. Unaware of where he was and assuming that he was now under the care of an enemy, he moved into survival mode. He rose himself off of the bed, taking care to move silently and keeping his eyes glued to the closed entry way, prepared to engage any enemy that walked through the door. He dropped down into a crouched position.

His eyes moved around the room, trying to identify where his weapon could be but saw nothing. He growled quietly in frustration. With each small step, he inched closer to the door. Knowing this enemy had a Jedi Master in his possession, this door would be locked. Imagine his surprise when he pressed the "OPEN" prompt on the panel and the door hissed open, quite loudly. He moved through the door and was met with a hallway.

The glowing terminals and vibrant lights adorning the walls of the corridor only served to tell the Master that he was aboard a starship of some sort. The devices, however, as they let out a steady series of idle hums, were not the only sounds to greet him as he stepped through that door. Though much of the doorways that branched off from this hall were closed, he could hear activity from the other side. The apparent lack of security probably eased the wookiee's nerves somewhat. After all, he had just sat up and waltzed out into what was most likely a high traffic area of this ship.

The sounds of beeping and clicking consoles were audible through the nearest door to the Master's left, coupled with the clinking of shuffling of metal that could only be associated with activity from one of the ship's occupants. At the far end of the hallway, however, he heard running water, which suddenly came to an abrupt stop right as Nardrashtasch ventured into that corridor. He could feel from there a peculiar presence - something that seemed to know he was there...

The door in question promptly hissed open in similar fashion, and out walked the familiar blind Padawan from the ship's refresher. His frayed, brown outer robe was shed to be more thoroughly scrubbed clean, leaving the simple, olive-green Jedi tunic he wore underneath it for warmth. Rhys' hands, hair and face were still wet on account of his sudden exit, but now were thankfully washed free of blood from their previous ordeals on Odessen. For a split second, the Padawan stood in stark dismay, "staring" at the Master at the other end of the corridor.

"By the Force... Master Nard, you're awake!"

Master Nardrashtasch sighed in relief as he made contact with the Padawan. "Padawan Rhys. It's good to see you. Here I was expecting those bounty hunters had captured me. Where.....where are we?" He said in Shyriwook, shaking his head, the feeling of grogginess clouding most of his senses.

"Hutt Space," Rhys told him, drying his hands on the cloth of his garb. "A place called Mek-Sha, to be exact. I've been keeping watch over you aboard Master Vrudun's starship since our arrival."

The Padawan was quick to notice the Master's current state. "Oh, forgive me, Master. The medical droid's anesthetic may have yet to completely clear out of your system," he added, starting down the hallway and attempting to guide Nard back to the passenger berthing from which he came. "Please, sit and conserve your energy for the time being. I can fill you in."

"And, pardon but...bounty hunters?" the young Padawan asked as he looked around for some semblance of a ration to give him. "It was an Imperial attack that forced us to evacuate."

Reluctantly, Master Nardrashtasch followed the young Padawan back to the room he first emerges out of. Hutt Space. He thought. What in the Force would bring us this far into the other side of the Galaxy? Were supplies really that stretched to find from the Temple?

He cleared his throat and found it wanting, his tongue and lips dry as a desert. As the Wookiee sat upon the bed he had rested on prior, his thoughts were rushed from his head as Rhys informed him that they'd been forced to evacuate.

"Padawan, what do you mean? It was the bounty hunters that found us before....before...." awakening from such a deep and dreamless sleep had taken much of its memory of recent events but as he talked more of it, the more they came flooding back. He remembered another Wookiee, though he could not remember the name. He saw flashes of orange, flashes of his own blade and the familiar sound of the lightsaber piercing flesh. He lifted his right hand and felt the bare portion of his chest where the lightsaber had been. "How.....am I alive?"

"Your wounds were deep," he explained. Rhys turned back after rummaging through the scattered crates of supplies that still had yet to be organized since their arrival. He offered Nard a canteen of water paired with a simple Republic ration pack. Hardly appetizing, but it was about all they had on hand.

"I dare say, it is a minor miracle you are up and about so soon. You were barely clinging to life when Master Ekker and Jace returned you to the temple..."

There was a certain softness to the Padawan's solemn voice as he answered the Master's question. The recollection of the previous day's events still seemed to weigh heavily on the young Jedi's mind. And though he made little effort to hide it, it was clear that the rest of his news did not bode well.

Master Nardrashtasch could sense the pain and stress that weighed upon the Padawan as he took the ration from him. "Had it not been for you, Padawan, I would be long gone. In the face of such adversity, you kept your composure and managed to bring me back from what was a guaranteed death. I owe you my thanks. What of the others? Who else did we lose?"

Rhys frowned in response to the Master's next inquiry. He eventually let out a sigh, and deigned to sit himself down. "When your group returned to the temple, Master Atala was not among them. I attempted to reach out when we lost contact, but...the forest fire..."

The Padawan paused, swallowing hard as he recounted the chilling memory that continued to haunt him.

"...I saw her die."

Master Nardrashtasch sighed and lowered his head into his right hand, resting his forehead into the web between his thumb and index. For their time on Odessen, he had grown close to Inera Atala. She had shown great promise and was centered and focused. She kept to the Jedi Code to the best of her ability. He would miss her, but he would also celebrate her move to the Cosmic Force. She would always be with them. It was no time to mourn, though, as he lifted his head up once more.

"To see the death of another of our order is painful to see, especially with such few of us left. She was one of our best but know that she has moved on from us, to the Cosmic Force. Trust in the Force." He said, placing his hand onto his shoulder, trying his best to comfort the young learner.

"Who else?"

"I understand, Master..." Rhys said with a hint of assurance. It obviously wasn't the first time he had bore witness to the death of his peers. His mission to Mygeeto saw many of his fellow Jedi succumb to their wounds. But even to pass to the Cosmic Force under the care of the sages was a peaceful process. If there was nothing they could do, they would at least ease their pain. But Inera was not given such a luxury. The Padawan could do naught but watch helplessly, as the life was ripped slowly and painfully away from her...

"Master Nevest was outside the temple when the Imperials attacked," he went on, sheltering that last memory in the back of his mind for the time being. "He was slain, but at least he had the luxury of a swift death..."

Rhys reached up to rub at his forehead, finding his head still aching somewhat. Likely a lack of good sleep. "Supposedly, he was with Master Brovil at the time, but I did not feel him fall. When he never returned to the temple, we were eventually forced to evacuate without him. Should he have been taken alive... I fear the worst."

"If he's been taken, it'll be to become one of them. He'd likely be questioned, tortured, stripped of everything that has made him one of ours. Death would have been preferable. We've lost much, but we have neither the time nor the reason to indulge in accepting pity anymore. We are Jedi, possibly the last. If we're on the run, it's only a matter of time before this Empire hunts us down and finishes the job. Where is Master Shan?"

"With the others, if memory serves," he replied, half-motioning to the raised ramp of the landing bay just next to them. "They've since changed into a more...inconspicuous wardrobe, and left to reconnoiter the area."

Rhys slowly rose to his feet, dusting off his tunic. "I would have accompanied them after mending your wounds - leave Beli in charge of the ship - but my kind... I may draw undue attention, hobbling around masquerading as a blind fool," he gestured to his empty eye sockets as he said that, seemingly in an attempt to make light of things.

"Where is Tuka then, Padawan? Much training has been missed and that needs to be rectified as soon as I am able," Nard said as the padawan took their time to respond. His eyes flicked around the room almost as if he expected Tuka to pop through one of the doors.

"I left him to rest aboard Master Shan's ship," he told Nard. It was then that Rhys hesitated for a moment, briefly pondering what he had seen afflicting his fellow Padawan. Best not to break too much news to the newly-awoken Master so quickly, he figured...

"He suffered some wounds as well, though he may very well assist the others with their reconnaissance if he has since recuperated."

“Wounds...? Hmm well you don’t sound to concerned young one so it can’t be worse than my prolonged nap then, can it?" he said. "But I am getting ahead of myself, are any of the other masters around? If so, would you send for them?”

"Of course, of course. Master Shan may be resting aboard the Last Resort, but I will contact Master Vrudun now," Rhys said with a bit of haste. He meanwhile handed the rest of the ration pack over to Nard - some nutrition to go with his water. "And please, Master, do eat something for now. We may be here for some time. Regain your strength."

Rhys stepped away from the bed, allowing the Wookiee to rest in some peace and quiet. He rummaged through a nearby rucksack left on the seats of the passenger berthing, eventually plucking a holocom from one of its many pockets. Shuffling back to the Master's side, he dialed in one of the few contacts he still had saved on it.

"Master Vrudun? Do you read?"

Vrudun Tumara immediately answered the hail, placing the communicator close to his mouth. "Yes, Padawan?" He said.

"Master Nard is awake and cognizant," he announced, with finally a tinge of relief in his previously nervous voice. "I have him recuperating aboard the ship now. Are you and the others still nearby?"

Vrudun turned to look at Jace, who was still busy examining the used and new speeders at the dealership they'd arrived to. "We are but not for much longer. Keep Master Nard down and resting for as long as you can. Lock down the ship and turn off any unnecessary interior lighting to avoid drawing attention. The last thing we want is for Port Authority to get curious."

"Right, of course," Rhys replied, remembered that though they may be out of the Empire's grasp for now, it wouldn't do to draw unnecessary attention. Better safe than sorry he figured. "I will do so posthaste. As for Master Nard, Beli and I will keep a good eye on him. I am in good faith he shall recover soon."

"And may the Force be with you, Master."

As they parted ways and hung up, Rhys let a long sigh escape his lips. He still felt exhausted, even after the short nap he took not long after stabilizing the Wookiee's injuries.

"I assume they will not be returning until later," he said to Nard. "We came into contact with someone here on Mek-Sha not long after our landing. If memory serves, it may very well be another Jedi in exile..."

“That is fine, young one. Another Jedi exile is always a good thing in these trying times,” Nard responded with a growl. His voice seemed quieter than normal.

“But now, I think I shall do as you suggest, and eat something. Do you happen to know if we have any meat?” He said, pushing himself to his feet to tower over the Padawan before him. He looked around the room for his belongings, spotting them and grabbing them. He attached his lightsaber to his belt in its familiar position.

"Meat? Hrm..." the young Miraluka perked up, scratching at his chin with his thumb. He gestured vaguely to the random bits of cargo strewn about the chamber. "As far as I know, all we managed to load were the leftover ration packs. The taste is dreadful, but it is little more than fuel."

He pocketed the holocom, and thought for a moment. An idea popped into his head.

"Actually, now that I remember," Rhys remarked. "There are some leftovers stowed away in refrigeration down in the galley. I am no culinary expert, but perhaps I can reheat something for you, Master."

Rhys promptly and made for the door to the main corridor of the Vigil. He peered down the hall, and lowered his voice somewhat.

"And hopefully Beli does not shout at me for taking it..."

[The Cyberiad Council]

Kravess Wurth
Mek-Sha

"Come on ya pack of runts; Skirbo wants this handled immediately," Kravess growled as he shut off the holoprojector and started for the door. A few grumbles made their way around the ranks of His 'Bodacity's' security force, but no one voiced anything aloud as they gathered their weapons and followed the Houk out of the security room.

All the eyes out on the street immediately snapped to the towering figure clad in the jacket marked by the Hutt Cartel's insignia. Most of them were miners working at the station, the others were merchants (some legal, most weren't), vagabonds, bounty hunters, or just hired hands. The hutts certainly had a crowd of regulars that drifted around. Behind Kravess was a mix of dull Gamorreans, a handful of Weequay and the odd Rodian or two. It was a far cry from his clones, but he wasn't exactly facing down battalions of clankers either.

Things had fallen into place pretty quickly after he stepped in; a big brute with a bad attitude was something this lot understood, respected. Luckily there wasn't that much to watch over. Mek-Sha was barely more than a glorified pit-stop. Kravess could patrol the entire thing in just an hour or so, depending on how thorough he was. And for the most part, he didn't need to be. The Hutt's reputation spoke enough. Most of the time. It was the rare occasion, such as the one he was currently experiencing, that required him to step in a bit more forcefully.

"So, what's going on, boss?" One of the Weequay asked? A stern glance from Kravess made him reiterate the ending of the address, "...Uh, Sir, I mean."

"Arcona smugglers, looking to take a shipment of exonium, made a scene about the cost of fuel and then stirred up trouble at the bar. They're refusing to leave until we cut the price, so the yard master impounded their ship," Kravess said, running through it like a war briefing.

That put an end to the questions, and soon enough they made it to the warehouse the Arcona had rented out. Kravess reached for his baster to draw it, checking to make sure his saber was tucked away securely. He didn't bother knocking. Instead, he pulled out a master key and waved it in front of the door that obediently opened.

"What the hell?" a confused voice called out as the wave of armed guards stepped inside.

"Who are you?" The one in charge demanded.

"I'm Wurth, and I represent the generous Skirbo the Hutt," Kravess said, standing to his full height, blaster in hand.

"Pah! Generous," The Arcona spat. "Yes, so generous he charges hyperlane robbery for fuel!"

Kravess shrugged, "It's a resource-grab out there. Everyone is trying to get what they can and hold on to the rest. Skirbo is no different. There's uncertainty, so the prices have gone up."

"Well at the price you're charging, it's certain that we won't turn a profit!"

There were seven Arcona Kravess could see, all of them armed. He had numbers on his side, but there was more at stake then simply winning. The massage was more important.

"Careful, pal. It's not me setting the price. That would be Skrirbo, and you wouldn't want to be insulting his hospitality now, would you?" Kravess asked, following up before the Arcona could answer. "No. You really wouldn't. Because the Hutts have a reputation, and Skirbo is no different."

Kravess took a few steps forward and the Arcona slowly started reaching for their weapons. The Republic might be gone, and the Empire, or whatever, may be stepping in, but out here, things are as they always were. The Hutts are all the law that matters."

Kravess was standing over the much shorter lead Arcona by now, who was putting up a brave front, but even Kravess could sense fear building.

"But...Skirbo the generous believes in second chances."

Faster than most of the onlookers could register what was happening, Kravess unleashed a left hook that sent the captain sprawling out on the floor, quickly leveling his blaster at the remaining crew as his men did the same. "Drop your weapons."

The captain started to get up and Kravess let loose some of his Houk brutality with a kick that sent the Arcona's crew. No doubt some bones were broken. It was so strange to go against what he'd spent most of his life believing in; it felt wrong, but necessary. Fortunately, the Arconan crew dropped their blasters, deciding there wasn't much chance for them to get out of this one.

"Like I said, Skirbo's generosity is great, so he's decided to give you a deal: you pay us back with all of that exonium you bought, and then you can buy the fuel at the old, 'normal', price, and be on your way. Sound good?"

When all he got was shocked surprised, and the quiet groans of the pained captain, Kravess repeated the question again with a bellowing shout.

"Y-yes, we'll unload the exonium right away..." one of the Arcona said, probably the first mate by the look of him.

"Good," Kravess said, holstering his blaster. "Skirbo thanks you for your business. Oh, and here," Kravess added, pulling a small box from his pocket and tossing it to the one who'd answer him. "I hear Arconans like salt, a parting gift from Skirbo in his infinite generosity. Make sure they leave Mek-Sha safely," Kravess muttered to his men as he turned to leave.

Another job done.

[The Imperial Republic]

The Escape From Ordo

---

As the black and red helmet of Ven Ordo rolled across the floor of the cockpit, the Mandalorian wiped the sweat from his forehead. With a deep sigh, Ven slouched back into his rigid and worn grey pilot's chair as his eyes absorbed much of the information before him. Asides from the blue and white interior that had been coated with red, yellow and green buttons that each belonged to a certain crucial portion of the operation of a Kom'rk-Class Mandalorian fighter was the brown and grey world of Ordo. His home. The once glowing ball of light that had been presented to him upon exiting Mandalore atmosphere had now filled most of his view across the Gauntlet's cockpit windows. Ven looked down upon his armoring and examine himself. A large black charred segment of his beskar chestplate had been presented to him by a lucky clone trooper whose eighteenth shot from his carbine had managed to strike true, just before being riddled himself with golden bolts from Ven's GALAAR-15. That wasn't the problem, it wasn't why he fled the battle for Sundari and left behind his brothers to fight a losing skirmish. The bolt that solidly smashed into his right, unarmored, shoulder was the problem. Under the burnt fabric of his grey combat fatigues was flesh that was more charred than it. He applied some bacta spray to numb the wound and initiate the healing process, but he wouldn't face the clones of the Republic army again, he simply couldn't. Regardless of his wound, it was non-life threatening. The pain was searing and hot, agonizing even, but it wouldn't have killed him. What would have happened had he stayed behind and took up covering fire for his brothers and sisters? Even fired his jetpack's rocket that would have turned one of their walker monstrosities to scrap? What if he dragged some of the injured behind cover instead of leaving them to die in a hail of righteous blue energy? There was more he could have done. So much more. As Ven began to have an inner debate with himself, he asked the question. Would it have made any difference? Wouldn't I be killed or captured just like the others? Or would I have fled anyway, rendering any help I might have offered null and void anyway?

The Gauntlet vessel began to shake and shudder as it entered the initial stages of atmospheric entry. The ship's inertia dampeners softened much of the interior shaking though it was enough to snap Ven out of the trance-like state he'd stuffed himself into. The red and yellow glaze of tint across the Gauntlet's windshields began to fade as white and fluffy clouds took it's place, eventually revealing spots of civilization strewn across the great and wide deserts of Ordo, with the largest being that of Ven's home city. It would have been a glorious sight for Ven, a symbol of familiarity and comfort, had it not been for the dozens of Republic LAAT/I gunships both landed within the city and circling across multiple homesteads. The ship was the first to ping to him several locations of Republic vessels bearing codes listed black by the Death Watch, to which this ship once belonged, then he saw it with his own eyes.

"Damn....the Republic moves fast..." Muttered Ven as his eyes continued to follow the flight paths of a few of the LAATs patrolling above where the spaceport was, the only place he was planning to go and discover how many of his Clan had survived. The communications panel began pinging rapidly from Ordo's main flight traffic control tower. He pressed the "Accept" button and began reciting his usual protocol. "Ordo Traffic Control, this is Ven Ordo aboard Gauntlet Number Three-Oh-Oh-" Ven's sentence was cut short by the sound of a muffled male voice, obviously attempting to hide his speech. "Shut it, Ven. Listen, you gotta leave." Ven recognized the voice immediately as Rhax, one of his friends who also happened to be Third Shift's Traffic Controller. "Rhax? That you? Rhax, what's going on?" Ven said as his ship's radar panel began to come alive with chimes and the sight of two red dots approaching from his six o'clock and another from his three o'clock. "Listen, Ven. No time to explain. Ordo is not safe. The Republic or whatever the hell it's called now-a-days has this place locked down. They're executing us. You have to go." Ven's adrenaline began to pump through his veins as his mouth opened, allowing more air to flow into his body as it now began it's fight-or-flight response. The Communications panel began to ping loudly and rapidly as the red dots continued closing in. "Look, they've got you registered as Death Watch and they're about to fire! Get the hell out of here!" Without any further thought, the Gauntlet's radar systems surrounded the dots with a spiky border, indicating that their weapons systems were now online just as the blue dot that represented him had been surrounded by a red circle that continued to close around him. They were locking onto him. His mother, his clan leader, his friends like Rhax...

He wanted nothing more than to get down to the spaceport, abandon the ship and sneak his way to his mother. To be reunited with something familiar and caring. A bastion of peace in the storm of violence and confusion. But it was for naught. As the LAATs closed in behind and to the side of him and the missile lock grew ever more dire, Ven had no choice. With a storm of fingers, he flipped on shields and slung his controls to the left and up, forcing the ship off of landing course and engaging in evasive maneuvers. The yellow glow of the Gauntlet's engines grew in brightness as the ship slung forward, prompting the LAATs behind to open fire with their four laser turrets each. After several glancing hits, one of the LAATs made contact with the starboard wing, causing the ship to shake violently as warning systems began to ping. "Damn it!" Ven said as he slung the controls to the right, breaking their lock and forcing the clones to re-engage their auto-tracking software. Without crew to serve them, the two rear facing turrets were useless and any effort to return fire at this point would be tantamount to suicide as two more LAATs were approaching. The Gauntlet cut left, turning the whole ship to the side before leveling out just above the rolling dunes and hills of Ordo. Ven pressed the "Accept" button on the comms panel, as it seemed the clones were still waiting on a reply.

"Listen, Republic dogs, I didn't come here for a fight. Just to visit family, is all. Surely you've got the wrong guy, right?" He half-expected them to continue opening fire, but it would seem that they wanted to at least give him a chance.

"This is CT-66721 of the Republic-" The communications cut out momentarily as the Gauntlet's erratic movements settled for a bit just as LAATs began lumping behind him.

"This is CT-66721 of the Imperial Occupational Forces of Ordo. This planet is now under Imperial jurisdiction. Your ship is registered as Death Watch and is marked for immediate termination. This is your one and final chance to land your vessel and face charges of treason, terrorism, and manslaughter."

"Oh, that's a shame!" Replied Ven as he pulled the controls up towards him, sending the Gauntlet soaring upwards as the LAATs re-engaged fire. Immediately, Ven spooled up the hyperdrive generator just as the section above the engines took a direct laser hit, the Gauntlet responding by shooting up flames from the hit section. Alarm chimes sounded out as the ship's power systems fluctuated. "Well, there goes the life support." Ven muttered as he continued soaring up into the clouds. With the hyperdrive now fully ready to jump, Ven established a random set of coordinates, unable to devote the time nor attention to inputing codes manually. Just as he prepared to jump, the Gauntlet took another heavy hit to the same section, causing flashes of white hot flame to erupt from the panels as Ven hit the hyperdrive switch, propelling the vessel into a mass of blue and white color. The jump was rough as the ship began to shake violently, flames erupted from some panels as Ven Ordo was forced to remove himself from his pilot's chair and reach for the compact fire extinguisher in a small locker next to the door. "Oh, come on!" He said as he put the numerous blazes out only for the ship's hyperdrive generator status display to begin beeping. Ven looked to the beeping and then to the cockpit windows to see the once beautiful flashes of blue and white were now replaced with a hazardous red as the ship was pulled from hyperspace, forcing Ven to the ground hard. Power systems failed and the ship's interior went dark immediately. The hustle and noise of the battle had faded and as Ven awoke, he heard nothing, saw nothing. He gasped as he saw nothing but black. He attempted to right himself, though found it nearly impossible in zero-gravity. Regardless, he pushed himself from the floor and propelled towards the ceiling, filling his eyes with the sparkly lights and twinkling of stars from the view of the Gauntlet's windows. "Great..." He said out loud. Ven took a deep breath and pushed himself off from the ceiling to the pilot's chair, placing himself within it and strapping him to it.

Ven flipped the switch to activate power systems. Nothing. He pressed in the button to reset power systems and perform a manual reboot. Nothing. With nothing left after this, he reached under the pilot's control board and flipped the switch for auxiliary battery power. Miraculously, the systems responded instantly, the buttons across him flickering to life while the overhead lighting came on. Knowing the Gauntlet, he'd most likely have about an hour of auxiliary power before the batteries drained. It's what he hated about them but he couldn't complain. It got him this far. With some systems restored, Ven Ordo interfaced with the hyperdrive panel. "Velmor.....Halori sector. Well, damn. That's not far enough." Ven said with audible disappointment in his voice. He was only a system away from Mandalore. Too close for comfort. Should the Republic decide to scour for him, they've wouldn't have to look far or long. Ven turned his head to the right, eyeing the locker next to the door, which contained a bag of tools he'd need to begin repairs on the ship. "Best get to it."

---

The damage caused to the Gauntlet was extensive. Life Support was severely damaged, with nothing left but half of the oxygen scrubbers left operational. The Hyperdrive had been knocked offline by a cascade of failures in response to the Life Support failing. All in all, it took Ven nearly two days to finish repairs and had used up all of the ship's reserve supply of parts, but it was at least functional. With power systems restored, Ven once again took his seat at the controls. He spooled up the hyperdrive and gave himself a moment of thought. Where would be the only places safe from the Republic? Places owned by their enemies. Ven put in the coordinates for Nar Shaddaa.

[Cheysal Serulea]

Captain Ulysen Serenno
Aboard the Venator Liberator
Shortly after Order 66

Ulysen stood facing the Jedi Knight Mather Polvai and his Padawan Sadisi Bolemall, his blaster drawn and pointed at them with their lightsabers ignited both in neon blue. The roaring alarm of the Liberator was deafening, and the voice of the resident Clone Commander CC-82975 sounding over the intercom only added to the chaos.

“I-I can’t let you leave,” Ulysen stuttered. The blaster in his hand was shaking furiously and his face was strained with anguish. “Per I-Imperial directive, you a-are under arrest!”

They simply stared at him. No… Ulysen looked closer at their faces. They were empty. Dead. Their eyes were black as void and their lips pale.

“Who is he master,” Sadisi asked her master, moving her head to the side with a crack of neck.

“In our way,” Polvai answered with a coldness that he never had before.

The two lunged forward and thrust the ends of their lightsabers at Ulysen, who simply stood there in horror…

Present Day, Captain’s Quarters, Venator Redemption

Ulysen awoke with a frightened yelp to the sound of the direct to intercom of his quarters beeping, signaling for his attention. Taking a moment to catch his bearings, he looked around his quarters. The closed door to his personal restroom, the closed door to his office, his dresser compartment with the full length mirror that he could see his own panicked face in the reflection.

That’s right… He was aboard the Redemption. Not the Liberator. That moment felt a lifetime ago, even if it was only a few months. Ulysen could remember it in vivid detail, the moment he stood in the way of Polvai and Sadisi, the poor young girl who was hardly in her mid teens and frightened beyond belief. The feeling of tenseness in Ulysen’s arms that stopped him from pulling the trigger. On the security feeds, it might as well have been the two Jedi using the force to immobilize him, but the newly promoted Captain knew full well that they didn’t.

He threw off the covers of his bed and stood up. His torso was covered in sweat and the sheets just as much. Since that moment at least once a week he’d experience a variation of the nightmare he just had, but that moment of fear would quickly lapse into sadness at the thought that the ones he thought were heroes would betray the Republic. The Empire.

“The Empire,” Ulysen mumbled to himself. He brushed the hair away from his eyes and went over to the control panel of his quarters and pressed a flashing button.

“Captain Ulysen here. What is it,” he asked.

“Captain, this is Yeoman Paxtyl,” the other on the end reported. Paxtyl was newly assigned to the Redemption as Ulysen’s second in command. To avoid previous attachments, most of the original senior staff of the Venator had been reassigned and replaced.

“We’re receiving a transmission from Command,” Paxtyl continued. “We’re to divert from patrol and station ourselves just outside of the Mek-Sha area should the task force dispatched there need our assistance.”

As the Yeoman was giving his report, the Captain was quickly getting his day uniform ready and a towel from his dresser. He turned back to the intercom as the Yeoman finished.

“Where are we currently, Yeoman,” Ulysen asked. He looked out the window of his quarters and saw the distinct, trailing blue mist of hyperspace.

“The Commander reports we’re currently en-route from Kashik to Randon, Captain.”

“Kashyyyk, not Kashik, Yeoman Paxtyl.”

“Of course sir. Sorry sir.”

“Have the Commander lay in a course to the star system nearest to Mek-Sha but out of its sensor range. Put us behind a planet or something and dispatch a communications buoy so that this task force can have a line to communicate even if we’re on the other side of a rock. I’ll be up to the bridge shortly.”

“Aye Sir, I’ll notify the Bridge Crew immediately.”

The Intercom chirped and the line was severed. With a sigh, Ulysen set about back to readying his uniform and stepped into his restroom to freshen up…

Only a few minutes afterwards, he stood in the turbolift up to the Main Bridge, brushing out wrinkles in the gray tunic that served as the top half of his uniform. His rank badges and boots were polished to a great shine, reflecting the light of the turbolift above. After a few moments, the lift began to slow and eventually a full stop and the doors opened to a hallway, where there was a hologram display table in the center, and forward was the bridge itself. Near the doors of the turbolift stood Yeoman Paxtyl. He was a young, freshly recruited ensign from Coruscant.

“Captain on the Bridge,” he called. Several of the attending clone bridge crew members turned their heads and standing officers stood to attention and saluted.

“At ease. I want us ready for combat at any moment once we drop out into the jumping range of Mek-Sha. Weapons and Shields primed, and Fighters on Standby.”

“Aye sir!”

[The Imperial Republic]

A Lost Life, A New Purpose

---

From the worn and broken in faux leather seat of his Kom'rk-Class Transport, Ven stared out across the dazzling and bright lights of hyperspace. With his freshly re-painted black and grey helmet sitting in his lap, Ven Ordo lost himself in thought, none of them to be taken lightly. Three months... He thought to himself. Three long months since Mandalore, Ordo....all of it... Despite the fact that his life changed for the worse three months prior, it felt like only yesterday to him. Wandering the deserts of Mandalore, escaping the Imperials on Ordo, listening to someone he cared for, who is probably dead now, tell him that his mother was most likely dead as well. He was confused, lost, trapped in a dark hole within his mind for many weeks after. Upon reaching Nar Shadaa, he had no choice but to store his armor aboard the Gauntlet's hidden storage locker built under the floors. It was there that he learned of what was truly happening across the Galaxy. The slaughters under the occupation happening in Mandalorian space was not an isolated event. The Galactic Republic had accused the Jedi of attempting to assassinate the Chancellor and were now in the process of righting that wrong. It all was so confusing, even to the point where news agencies across the galaxy were having the most difficult time tracking exactly what was happening. First the Jedi, then the Separatists, now this Empire. Regardless of the news agencies' inability to inform exactly what was happening, nothing was being said of Mandalore. Perhaps because the occupation of Mandalore was already finished. Clone troopers swooped in, acting as if they'd been their saviors. Feeding on the weakness of the "New Mandalorians". Once they'd taken out the Mandalorians worthy of handing the Republic their asses, then came their next plan: total ownership of the Mandalorian people. Hell, the pacification of Mandalore must have been so thorough that those milk-drinking Republic supporters were probably eating it up. Enjoying their supposed "victory". It was not a victory for anyone other than the Empire. When Ven wondered what was happening to the rest of his clan, he shuddered at the thought and darkness fell upon him. For a month, Ven drank himself poor, getting into barfights, nearly losing his ship and armor.

How could he have avenged his people? How could he have ever shown his face to true Mandalorians ever again? Mandalorians that continued fighting, leading their underground rebellions against the Empire while he sat here, wallowing in his own weakness? He didn't deserve the armor he was given. It was in this moment of weakness and reflection that Ven understood that his time fighting for a lost cause was now over. Fighting alongside the best of Death Watch through the streets of Mandalore, pushing for a free and strong Mandalorian society, free from the corruption of the Republic, was a long distant memory as far as he was concerned. Now, all he had was himself. His father, mother, brother, all dead. He had an aunt, an uncle, a grandmother. Considering they lived on the opposite side of Ordo, perhaps they survived. Maybe even escaped Ordo before the Empire completely engulfed it with clone troopers. But he doubted it. As Clan Ordo, the last thought on their minds would be to run away. They descended from Canderous Ordo, A legacy that would not be so easily tarnished by the clan. If anything, the rest of his family probably stood their ground, unified with their neighbors, fought back. Maybe even killed plenty of Clone dogs before being overwhelmed. But it was a legacy Ven was coming to terms with abandoning. Because no matter how many guns you had, or able-bodied Mandalorian fighters willing to stand in defense of your planet, it was always a losing battle. Even when it was still the Republic, there was little chance of victory. A mountain of clones, hundreds of troop carriers, tanks, walkers, air support, even battleships that could glass a continent in an hour. There was no beating that. Just like there was no way Ordo would stand victorious against the Empire. The most likely scenario? Most of his Clan was dead. The rest were imprisoned, most likely tortured, then sent off, never to be seen again. If what Ven was seeing on the newsfeeds was true, that's exactly what happened.

So he stood. He rose from his position of submission, shook off the drink, stumbled out of the bar for a night's sleep back on the Gauntlet. Come morning, Ven was prepared to do what he did best: kill. With no money to his name anymore and his name most likely disgustingly illegal, Ven came into the employ of the Bounty Hunter's Guild of Nar Shaddaa. Donning his armor, weapons, and jetpack of the Mandalorian, he gained a hefty signing bonus and with that money, ordered appropriate repairs for his ship, which he also paid for it's former owner's information to be wiped from the registry's records.

His first contract was an easy one. A Sullustan nobody who decided to run instead of pay his debt. Intel from the Guild was accurate and he was easily tracked down at a cantina on Manaan and upon seeing the arsenal laid before him in the form of a heavily armed Mandalorian, he immediately surrendered. The money wasn't great, but it was enough to refuel his ship and get him a good day's meal. For the next six jobs, he never once had to fire his weapon, even for those he believed wouldn't go down without a fight. They simply stopped, threw their hands up and came with him. But as times as a Bounty Hunter were good and he was making a meager income, surviving on Nar Shaddaa instead of living, jobs were becoming scarce. Other Guilds were simply beating Nar Shaddaa's to the punch and earning the spoils. Most problems in Hutt Space were handled by the Hutts or their corresponding families that paid tribute. Most were intelligent and didn't cause problems. But as Ven scoured through the few small jobs left for him, the Guildmaster was informed of another, one that caused his mouth to fall agape and his eyes to widen. "Here? In Hutt territory?" The Rodian said as the informant nodded quickly. For a long moment, the Guildmaster sat in silence, scratching his chin and looking around the room at the numerous Hunters there. But only one seemed to have caught his eye. His eye was stuck on Ven. "Hey, Mandalorian! Got something for you."

***

200,000 Credits alive...100,000 if dead.... The words continued to rush through his mind as the Gauntlet was flung through hyperspace. He couldn't believe it. For almost two months, he'd been slogging through the worst jobs the Guild had. Not because there were good ones, but because Ven wasn't comfortable getting too high on the kill board. He wanted to make money, not get himself killed. But how could he resist when the Guildmaster requested him personally? Even though the amount of credits on the line for this Khaleesh's head was astounding, he'd still be forced to split it four ways. Due to the infinite wisdom of the guildmaster, he was forced to carry three other hunters with him to the target to ensure the capture of the target or it's swift death if it failed to see reason.

The first bounty hunter was sitting next to him in the cockpit, usually reserved for the co-pilot, but instead he sat there as a show of seniority. This hunter was a Zabrak female, simply known as Mukoe. She was the oldest hunter in the group, at 52 years of age. She wore no helmet, revealing long locks of salt-and-pepper hair surrounding her Zabrak horns, a well worn life showing upon her wrinkled face. This woman was, by far, the most seasoned warrior in the band, with several hundred contracts under her belt. Upon her body was a suit of grey armor, resembling closely to that of what Mandalorian armor looked like, though without the central icon in the center like Mandalorian armor had. Solid Durasteel, albeit thin to allow for mobility. A prized set she had to have spent alot of credits on to have it personally molded to her body structure. Under it was a solid black bodysuit, neoprene and breathable. Slung on her back was a modified L60 blaster rifle with a high powered scope latched to it, along with a stun attachment. On the side of her right thigh was a DL-21 blaster pistol with a magnetic attachment, very strong and does away with the need for an actual holster. On the other side was another DL-21 with the same attachments. Assorted along her belt were various detonators, ranging from droid poppers to high explosive monster-killers as well as a vibroblade stuffed into a sheath on the backside of the belt. She had come prepared for everything. The same couldn't be said for the others on the other side of the cockpit door.

Feo Berb was a 24 year old Sullustan with next to no experience when it came to actual fighting, but makes up for it in brute strength as well as the DLT-19 heavy blaster rifle he carried onto the ship. His armoring was little better than that of clone trooper armor. Thin duraplast armoring with bits of titanium plating built into the inside portions of the armor, such as the chest and open-faced helmet. His belt looked similar to that of Mukoe's but lacked the vibroblade and the droid poppers. He was cocky, talked too much, made way too many inappropriate jokes, and didn't quite seem to understand the situation. He was already talking to Jaxh about what he was going to do with the money he was going to get. Going to get. Like it was guaranteed to be his. Like the group of bounty hunters weren't preparing to go after a rogue Inquisitor. A force user. Capable of destroying armies without any weapons but their hands. That brought him to his next Hunter.

Jaxh Callow, a human male. 26 years old. Jaxh was a bit more experienced, with dozens of missions under his belt, as well as his participation in tracking down a Jedi Padawan on Naboo about three weeks ago. Him and five others. The Padawan ended up killing two of them before the kid was brought down with a lucky blaster bolt to her head. A blaster bolt sent from Jaxh's DH-17 rifle. He told the story twice before the ship even departed Nar Shaddaa, claiming that he was "the Jedi-Killer" and the "Most experienced one here when it came to space wizards." None of the other hunters believed him and Ven even got a bit of a laugh when he saw Mukoe make a slight move for one of her dual pistols, ready to shut him up for good.

During the ride to the last known position of the Khaleesh known as Kalixinos, there was little talk among the Zabrak and the Mandalorian. Despite Ven's somewhat newness to the whole bounty hunting scene, he wasn't new to killing nor to mentally preparing himself for a tough mission. The two had come to an unspoken agreement. They'd watch each others backs when the finally found this Inquisitor, but would soon after go their separate ways.

***

---

"We're here." Ven said simply as he began the sequence to spool down from Hyperspace. Soon after, the Gauntlet was thrust back into normal space, an old refueling space station right before them, a station called Mek-Sha. "This place is called Mek-Sha. Old Hutt station with some young Hutt in power or something. Quatak? Quatongue? I don't know, something stupid like that." Said Ven, eliciting a slight smile from Mukoe as she continued staring forward. Ven slowed his approach in line with that of proper station protocol, flipping a few switches to send pings to Traffic Control and allow them to establish a landing zone for them. "Before we land, we should discuss what our plan is going to be." Ven said. "You talk, I listen, then I'll do what I want." Replied Mukoe, her brief smile now replaced with a frown and her eyes pointed right at Ven. The Mandalorian simply nodded as they came within the station's no-fire zone. "Split into two teams of two, we each follow up on leads we were given, meet back up at the Gauntlet." Said Ven, keeping things short and sweet since he truly believed it didn't matter to her anyway.

"Well, I'll be....look at that." She said, looking over and pointing out of the window. "An old YT-1760. You don't see those things anymore. Damn, looks like it's been through hell too." She said, ending the conversation there as they flew past towards their own landing platform. As the ship began it's landing sequence, the wings angled themselves upwards as the landing gears extended out and within seconds, they were down. Wasting little time, the Zabrak and the Mandalorian departed their chairs to speak with the other two. "Alright, listen up, kids." Said Mukoe, drawing immediate attention from Jaxh and Feo. Instead of Ven having to repeat himself, the Zabrak female simply recited everything she was told to them. Without wasting anymore time, the four walked down the ramp, splitting up into teams of two, Jaxh following Ven while Feo followed Mukoe. "Meet back here in an hour!" She told the group.

***

All in all, the search had returned very bountiful intelligence. Aside from the death of a local doctor that had been investigated and closed by Mek-Sha security forces in a few minutes time, they allowed Ven to access some camera footage from the area. They watched as the Khaleesh entered then left, the flames beginning not long after. Then was the homicides down by Landing Pad C-14, where three bodies were found and their ship missing. Deaths at landing pads weren't uncommon, especially for a station owned by the Hutts. But it was the way they died that alerted security forces to the fact that it may have been linked with the surgeon and his office burning down. A burned hole in the doctor's head and charred stripes moving across the bodies of the three brothers that occupied the Allanar N3 Light Freighter that was now missing. Dock workers were interviewed and many seemed to have witnessed a black-draped figure boarding the vessel after dispatching it's occupants. Luckily, the ship that was listed as the Emerald Dawn had been equipped with a tracker accessible by the Hutt security soldiers. The tracker would lead them to Moraband. With their destination locked in, the four bounty hunters boarded the Gauntlet and within minutes, the ship had been raised, cleared for departure and quickly entered hyperspace.

[The Cyberiad Council]

As the Force Guides

---

Location is, as most things in the perceived reality are, relative. By that logic, Voornan came to the conclusion that he was only relatively lost. As he sat, levitating in the passenger area, symbols slowly carved themselves into the metal deck and walls, carved by the ex-jedi's meditative mind shaping the force. The symbol of the Je'daii was emblazoned beneath him. Occasionally, it arced with a stray flash of lightning as Voornan dreamed: gathering the storm unto himself.

Voornan's mind was still on Ilum, surrounded by the roaring tempest. Clones, their minds twisted by the powers above them, had died by his hand ands his will. The Force had set his journey there; where he ravaged the imperial base and stolen the shuttle which he had next to no idea how to fly. The destination: Nur. But that was then, now the Force had pulled Voornan back. From the storm loomed images, feelings, premonitions of futures brewing on the horizon. He saw a station floating in the void: greed, the exchange of value. Lies both of the light and dark distorting... And gathered was the Force in the heart of it: Jedi! Suddenly, the storm bristled with pain, the agony howling through the wind.

In the shuttle, the Herald's force contorted as the empathetic feedback washed over him. "But who...?" Voornan refocused, letting the visions return. A blockade: the venom's ships casting a net meant to ensnare the fragment of the force gathered. Danger, pain pressing in on all sides — images of conflict and the sounds of blaster fire and the slashing of sabers...

Lightning crackled around Voornan, drawn through the storm, and emanated from the Je'daii in a blinding flash. The ship rumbled, as the lights surged with power before everything went dark.

"That was...unexpected..." Voornan said to the Force.

With his meditation broken, he'd fallen out of his levitation. So, hauling himself to his feet, Voornan entered the cockpit to see the streaks of hyperspace snapping back to subluminal speeds. The console was completely dark; the burst of electricity likely frying most of the circuitry. Still, Voornan pressed a few buttons and flipped switches to no avail.

"It's an odd path, but you have never led me astray..."

The ship was still drifting, at alarming speed, but out of the corner of a viewport, Voornan spotted a planet. He knew not which it was, nor what was to be found there, but this was the path the Force had set for him; he was sure. Reaching out to the storm, Voornan will the Force to push his ship, guiding him to what ever world lay ahead.

[Okayanos]

A New Mission - Part 1

\

---

Fortress Inquisitorius
Nur

The Grand Inquisitor's rough, gray-skinned face was pulled into its usual scowl. Truly, his was a miserable existence. His power was lesser than Vader's, and far lesser than the Emperor's, and no matter how much he trained and worked, he would never come close to matching them. And with his inferiority so deeply engraved into his being, naturally he let his wrath loose on those who were inferior to him. The other Inquisitors, brothers and sisters both, knew full well the consequences of provoking the eldest among them. Even the newest of their number, the Fifth Brother, had taken this lesson to heart. That one, the Grand Inquisitor had only a meager amount of hope for. The Fifth Brother was distant from most of his peers, barring a few. The Fourth Sister was the only sparring partner that the Fifth had taken. If that single bond became some sort of dependence, the Grand Inquisitor would have to see it snuffed out.

But The Grand Inquisitor could mull that over later. Right now, he had his brothers and sisters assembled in the Fortress' central training room, the largest among them and often an impromptu briefing room for the Inquisitors. "The Empire has found a mission of importance, brothers and sisters. A mission that will require the efforts of all of you. So, make an attempt to put aside whatever grievances you might have with each other." The Grand Inquisitor gave a meaningful, yellow-eyed glare to... just about every member present. The First, Third, and Fourth Sisters as well as the Fifth Brother were becoming infamous for their constant antagonization of the Second Brother. While hatred would make them strong, it would also lower their chances of success on their next mission. The Grand Inquisitor waved his hand in a casual gesture, using the Force to activate the central holoprojector hidden under the room's grated floor. An image of a fueling station within a massive asteroid shimmered into existence. "Mek-Sha. This station is of critical importance to the Hutts, exporting fuel and Exonium, as well as providing a safe haven from our Empire's eyes. With the Separatists crushed, the Hutts are the greatest threat to the Empire's reign- and they wish to remove that threat. An Imperial Fleet shall blockade Mek-Sha to block its exportation- you all will go as well."

"Why?" The single-word question was quiet enough for the Grand Inquisitor to instantly recognize the Fourth Sister as its source.

"The Hutts have a Jedi in their employ. One, at least- likely more. Those fools always congregate together." The Grand Inquisitor answered, fixing his golden gaze on the Fourth Sister. "The ship on which you shall depart arrives in one hour. If you intend to ask questions, do so now- and don't waste my time with idiocy."

The Third Sister's lips curled into a frown. Her fingers drummed idly against the helmet tucked under her arm. "Has intelligence obtained any information regarding this Jedi?" she plainly inquired. "A name? A rank?"

"What does it matter, Sister?" Snapped Barriss, the First Sister. "What's important is the fact that we know a Jedi is present. That is all of the information we require, yes?" Barriss said, her head turning a bit sideways as she seemed mesmerized with the holographic blue glow of the space station before them.

Kedoa's voice grumbled in response. It was hard to hide the faint smirk on her face. "And here I was wondering how a single Master mopped the floor with you on Odessen..."

Barriss snapped her head towards Kedoa and snarled. She wanted to speak as she curled her fingers and pursed her lips. It was uncharacteristic for her to let such comments slide, but....

She couldn't deny the strength Kedoa held. So much so that Barriss had grown fearful of her fellow Inquisitor and thus remained silent.

"Third Sister is right. Blindly chargin' dick first at the enemy was what caused our failure at Odessen. We cannot afford a repeat of that humiliation." Ruhr said to Barriss before turning his attention to the Grand Inquisitor. "If there are multiple Jedi, will we take prisoners or will we kill them all?" Ruhr asked the Grand Inquisitor as he stared at the leader of the Inquisition.

"We do not need more weaklings to tend to." The Grand Inquisitor answered. "Slaughter the Jedi, and-" He gave a pointed glare to Ruhr. "-don't bother bringing back any souvenirs. As for the Jedi, at least one is in the service of a Hutt as an… enforcer, of sorts. Perhaps it is some large, brutish race. There may be more- perhaps some that you missed at Odessen,” He continued, emphasizing the last point. The Odessen raid still hung over the Inquisitorius like a Sword of Damocles, causing many Imperial officials to question their efficacy. This mission would, hopefully, change that.

So they're stooping to mercenary work for Hutts now?" said the Third Sister with that same condescending simper, almost laughing as she spoke. "Oh, how the mighty have fallen..."

The fire-eyed Zabrak clearly made no attempt to mask her eagerness for such a mission. A redemption for their previous failure, should they return with the lightsaber of this lone Jedi. And if the same rats from Odessen had joined them too? Perhaps they could right previous wrongs. Perhaps she could finish what she had started back at that damned temple. Those two blasted Jedi that hurled her from the hangar - the smug little Knight's face - it still remained burned into her memory. She'd spent many nights on Nur dreaming of ways to make him squeal...

She turned on her heel, prepared to depart the moment the Grand Inquisitor bid them do so. "It's a hunt, then. We'll find these fools and leave the bodies for the scrappers to pick clean."

"A Jedi on the run can't go any lower thank working for the Hutts. At least the Separatist Holdouts have a cause, even if it is a lost one." Ruhr said to the Third Sister in a hate filled tone. While he was willing to make a deal with the Hutts if necessary, Ruhr, being a member of the Inquisition, had no tolerance for criminals that willingly harbored Jedi.

"See to it that you do." The Grand Inquisitor remarked before leaving the training room behind him. "One hour. Don't repeat Odessen." And then, he was gone, leaving the Inquisitors to chatter between themselves.

"Desperate times force people to go lower than they'd ever want to," Dan spoke. The irony of his statement was not lost on him. "When you need to survive, your pride is the first thing to die." Those words could've been the motto of Dan's life- it had been years since he'd had any great amount of pride in something. If he had to choose, it would be his continuing ability to remain somewhat unbroken, even after his torture and the constant pressure of the Dark Side emanating from the Inquisitors- the other Inquisitors. He was a member of their group, though he didn't quite feel like one.

Acclamator-class Cruiser Triumph
Above Nur

Captain Hernwick found the silence aboard the Triumph's bridge disconcerting. Funny, how he'd once found the constant activity of the Purge Troopers to be a constant, nagging annoyance. But with them gone away to some outer rim mudball in search of Jedi stragglers, the only clones aboard were standard units. None of them had the same kind of fire in them as the 411th. The absence of the 411th's purge forces stung even more when Hernwick thought about how many Inquisitors would be crawling about on his ship. He'd consider every non-choked breath a blessing. A hail from Nur's control station caught his attention. The Fortress Inquisitorius was always paranoid about its security, for good reason.

"Fortress Control, this is Acclamator-class Triumph, arriving for pickup. Identification codes transmitting now," Hernwick addressed the water planet below. The Triumph hovered in silence for a short couple of seconds, until an affirmation was finally received. The cruiser's sublights flared, and it began its descent, piercing through Nur's atmosphere like the tip of a spear. The giant ship came to a slow stop in the sky above the fortress, where it would soon receive the Inquisitors' ships. Hernwick prayed that the insane dark siders would be too busy arguing between themselves to harass him or the rest of the crew aboard.

Fortress Inquisitorius

The Fourth Sister's pale gray eyes turned up toward the ceiling. "It's time," She muttered. Just seconds later, the fortress' announcement system chimed in. "Transport vessel is waiting above the Fortress. All Inquisitors, head to the hangar. Any left behind will suffer punishment." Aragwen didn't need to be told twice. She swept out of the training room, dark robes fluttering behind her. She knew that the ship, and the station would take her to, would be just as loud as the Fortress was. But they would, at least, not be stale. A capital ship would be large enough for her to avoid her siblings, at least. And the station would be even moreso. Perhaps she would fade into the sound, and never return to the Inquisitorius. Aragwen had no place in the universe other than here, but... she couldn't keep from wondering at times. Wondering if the rest of the galaxy would really be as cruel as it seemed. Ah, she was longing for the days of old now- when all she knew was the peace in the Jedi Temple, before the war, and before the dark whispers of Telos had taken root in her.

In the hangar, she found her plain gray V-Wing in the gathering of mismatched starships. Despite its lack of distinguishing markings, the tiny interceptor almost called out to her, no matter where she left it. Aragwen ran her hand along the V-Wing's hull, feeling every bit of machinery inside through the Force. She found one spot, just in front of the S-foil spar, and stopped. "Q7," She stated flatly. The spherical astromech slotted into the V-Wing beeped out a short query in response. "How long has the motor been stuttering?" Aragwen asked. When the droid informed her that it had been this way since she'd tried to dogfight a Jedi over Selonia, she grimaced. "Why not mention it?" She said. Q7 replied that there had never been a good time, and that the wing motor hadn't been cause for alarm until now. Aragwen sighed. She would be behind the other Inquisitors. With a pull of the Force, the V-Wing's maintenance panel was opened, and the Fourth Sister set off to find the tools laying around the hangar. She didn't want any technician droid messing with her ship. No, this was something she'd have to do herself.

Ruhr Draay approached his Delta-7B, its orange-on-black color scheme sticking out like a sore thumb. "One of these days, I'm gonna get this craft a more appropriate paintjob. " Ruhr said to his R3, the Astromech chirping in response. "Sorry, R3. I won't be flyin' the Delta-7B. Command says that I have to take a transport to Mek-Sha. Probably a C70 Charger or worse, a Consular-Class that's been rustin' in the hangar since Geonosis." Ruhr said to R3-D20 as he stared at the hose connecting the Delta-7B to a fuel tank. "Besides, you could use the downtime." Ruhr said to R3-D20 as he walked away from the Delta-7B.

Dan was the next Inquisitor into the hangar, and found that the number of ships hadn’t changed. Strange, he’d clearly recalled seeing at least two of them leave ahead of him- the Fourth Sister and Second Brother. The former was hunched over one of her ship’s access panels, and the latter was walking away from his starfighter, talking about transports. Dan steeled himself, and- against his better judgement- chose to approach Ruhr. “We’re all going to be traveling on one capital ship, you can take the Delta if you want. It’d be a shame to leave a ship like that rusting away in a hangar.” Dan had yet to understand why the other inquisitors spoke so lowly about the Second Brother, and figured that he’d have to try and work with all of them if he wanted to succeed in this mission.

"I ain't surprised that you would approach me without fear. The others probably mock me behind my back. Call me weak to my face if they had the time to do so. All because I failed to kill some Anzati with a Force Ability I was not prepared for. As I recall, they also failed to capture or kill a Jedi. Whether they like to admit it or not, the Inquisition's failure on Odessen was caused by overconfidence. Overconfidence breed by victories over easy prey. In my case, I was returning from slaying my former mentor when I received the call to head to Azterri, Thor Fey'lir. His blade work was predictable, his techniques concealed no secrets from me. I know every Lightsaber strike he was gonna make before he ignited his blade. However, instead of mocking my fellow Inquisitors for their failures, I focused on avenging my humiliating loss and triumphed over my foe." Ruhr said to Dan as he turned around to look at him.

“…Alright, whatever you say,” Dan answered, now beginning to grasp why the other Inquisitors didn’t respect Ruhr. “I just wanted to talk a bit about starfighters. Mine’s the Skysprite over there.” He pointed toward a Delta-12 painted in standard gray with a few blue highlights. The two-seater ship was, at this point, all he had left of Master Khir. It had been a miracle that the ship had only been mothballed after Order 66 (likely due to the Delta-12 model’s rarity), and a further miracle when the Inquisitorius had allowed him to requisition the craft without asking questions.

"And a beautiful ship it is." Barriss said as she skirted her fingers around the back of Dan's neck as she made her way around to him. "An odd choice in color, though." She said, moving away from him and towards her own starship, the black and grey Eta-2 Actis-Class light interceptor at the far end of the hangar. "Before me, it was flown by a Jedi. Now it serves a higher purpose."

"Ugh, and I can hear it already..." called Kedoa's voice from not far off.

The Zabrak sauntered away from the now ascending ramp of the landing craft she had arrived in, the dual side wings folded upward at a ninety-degree angle towards the ceiling of the hangar. The imposing shuttle was an older Theta-Class model--strikingly similar to the Empire's newer Lambda-class ones--and were often used by the higher-ranking senators and officers during the Clone Wars. Like most of the Inquisitors' starfighters and personal ships, much of the shuttle's colorings had been replaced with a fresher set of dark grey and a few thin, blood red highlights. She honestly took a bit of pride in its appearance, despite the...dubious legality of its acquisition.

The Third Sister approached the rest of her "comrades" as they spoke with one another, helmet still cradled under one arm. "Not even ten seconds onto this crate, and Draay's already monologuing again, isn't he?

"Monolougin'? The new guy needs to know why we failed on Odessen. As for my braggin', I hunted down and slew the Jedi that defeated me on Odessen. You have yet to avenge your defeat on Odessen. Where were you when I was on Tulq City? Fightin' sparrin' droids that you set to Lord Vader's regimen to satisfy your wounded ego? I would be impressed, if I had not been forced to fight to the death in the arena with nothin' but a Beskad with a broken blade by the leader of the Tulq Family." Ruhr Draay said to Kedoa in a condescending tone.

The twisted grin on her face masked Kedoa's absolute abhorrence of just listening to him. His voice was grating. Like a fork scraping along the rim of a plate. By the Force, please, just...

"Wow. How very brave of you..." she uttered, in a tone that almost seemed patronizing. "Would you like a medal? You run off into the damned woods and get yourself maimed on Odessen, yet you get to go frolic and play while the rest of us slave away as punishment for our failure. How much of the Grand Inquisitor's ass did you have to kiss to--"

"Quiet." The Fourth Sister growled- the most volume out of her voice in a few weeks- as she passed by the gathering of her fellows, toolbox under her arm. "I broke your droids, Draay. Not them. Third Sister, he's not worth it. Let me work in peace." With her last sentence, a low rumble crept under her voice as the Force began to ripple out from her, worming into the twisted minds of the other Inquisitors, implanting the most base emotion, the root of the Dark Side- Fear. Just enough to shut them up for once.

Kedoa was the first to feel the Fourth Sister's power, falling upon her like a tidal wave. Her eyes snapped shut, and the jet black hairs on the nape of her neck stood on end. For a moment, the woman froze in place, her words abruptly cut off and thoughts overcome by the familiar aura of absolute horror. It was one that she often felt from the likes of Lord Vader, enough to give everyone around him pause. Even to a conditioned soul such as herself, the sensation was positively dominating. Perhaps, had she expected it, she would have been able to shrug it off...

But instead, the Third Sister stood silent, the Zabrak's dual hearts left beating with a fervor that matched the sudden bout of adrenaline coursing through her body. Seconds would pass before the feeling would even begin to subside. Her eyes finally fluttered open, and her neck craned to look upon the Fourth Sister, a deep exhale escaping her lips.

"...well then," Kedoa quietly mused, putting a hand to her chest. Somehow, the event left her seeming almost...excited? "What a woman..."

As Barriss walked away from the engaging mass of Inquisitors, she smirked at the sound of the Fourth Sister's demand that they be quiet. It was becoming quite the laughing show, though the First Sister would instead prefer to prepare herself for victory. Anything less, would mean death for her. Vader's words still echoed deeply into her mind of what would happen should they fail once more. In fact, it haunted her ever since. Her additional training helped prepare her.

Then, she felt it. The voices behind her began to distort as the lighting in the hangar began to dim, shadows moving across the floor like oily shadows, darting from corner to corner as she could hear the whispers of Master Luminara Unduli, growing louder as Vader's voice entered her mind. She giggled as she had now felt the manner in which the Fourth Sister would attempt to get her way. She closed shut her eyes and focused on herself, her breathing and her anger at such an attempt. She halted her walk and stood deathly still.

"You know, dear sister...."

She opened her eyes as the lights in the hangar began to brighten once more. She opened her left hand and formed a sort of claw-like appearance. Focusing on her own response to the attempted Fear, she would begin to draw the life from the Fourth Sister, sucking away all she was until she would hopefully become exhausted just from standing.

"You should be wise on who you attempt to defile. You'll find yourself trapped in something much worse than what you expected." She said with a smile. (edited)

Ruhr couldn't help but smile. The Fourth Sister was skilled in Lightsaber Combat, her technique as flexible as bamboo. It was no surprise that she had sent his sparring droids to the scrap heap, as two Lightsaber blades can be an advantage in battle, even against an experienced opponent. He remembered the words of "Snarl" as translated by his protocol droid. "The best technique is no technique. Knowing more sequences than your opponent will not guarantee victory. You must be able to become unpredictable. Even the most masterful opponent will fall to a strike that has no history or reference.

"Tryin' to use the Force to fill my mind with fear? A very clever sneak attack, but sadly, you have failed in that endeavor. Want my advice? Save it for the Jedi or for that Kaleesh failure, Little Sister." Ruhr Draay said to the Fourth Sister in a mix of anger and respect.

Dan had shivered when Barriss' fingers brushed the back of his neck- likely the intended reaction. But that had nothing on the chill that ran through his whole body when the Fourth Sister's silver eyes glared at him. She'd put some kind of spell on him, sending him spiraling back into the nightmare he'd had only a few nights prior, where he'd seen himself as the one to end Master Khir's life. He crumpled, down on his knees, clutching at his head and screwing his eyes shut until the visions began to recede.

When he opened his eyes, he saw that he wasn't alone on the ground. The Fourth Sister, once his sparring opponent, very recently a harbinger of fear, was brought low beside him. She fell like there was no strength in her limbs, and her tools all clattered around her in a tremendous racket. It might have been pitiful, if she hadn't just planted fear in his head. Kedoa had stuttered under the psychic attack as well, but her reaction was... unusual, to say the least. (Dan shuddered and pushed out a series of quite unwelcome images from his mind.) But as Dan rose back to his feet, feeling utterly useless, the Fourth began to rise as well. Her arms and legs were shaking, and at one point she nearly fell, but despite the exhaustion that had clearly been inflicted on her, she rose to her full height. The towering near-human fixed a glare on each of the Inquisitors in turn. Barriss was the last.

"I've been trapped in worse," She croaked out. With that, the Fourth turned and began to walk back toward her V-Wing. Her gait was slow, limping, and unsteady, but she continued on, step by defiant step. When she eventually reached her ship, she collapsed against the hull, only just managing to hold herself up. She couldn't even pull herself into the cockpit. But it wasn't about boarding her starfighter- it was about sending a message. They could bend her, but she wouldn't break.

Despite her sister's struggled and pitiful response to her drain, Barriss smiled wide, baring teeth as she watched her limp towards her ship. She knew what she tried to portray, sadly it was little more than a defeated drag to her starfighter. She would know better next time, the First Sister was sure of it. As the other Inquisitors rose from the debilitating experience they each had been trapped within, Barriss's eyes snapped to Ruhr, who seemed to have rejected the Fourth Sister's attempt as well. Barriss let out a quiet groan before beginning to walk backwards towards her ship.

When Ruhr finally made contact with her own eyes, she looked him up and down and bit her lip, releasing a short giggle before spinning back around and moving to her starfighter.

Ruhr headed to his Delta-7B as the hose used to refuel it was removed. "Looks like we'll be flyin' to the ship." Ruhr said to R3-D20 as he entered the Delta-7B and took off, the cockpit closing as he headed out of the hangar.

Meanwhile, Kedoa stood rigid as she watched the confrontation end just about as quickly as it had started. It was thankfully enough of a distraction to calm the nerves the Fourth Sister had frayed. Her now expressionless visage looked between the departing Ruhr and Barriss. A coy grin formed on her face.

"Well," she said, seeming somewhat amused by the scene. "Seems a few little words started a bit of an...altercation, hm?"

Kedoa then glanced briefly to Dan, who seemed to have taken the attack on their minds much harder than herself. The woman frowned with disapproval at the quivering mess of a man. "For an Inquisitor, you're awfully piss-poor at steeling yourself. Did I break something in that feeble head of yours, Brovil?"

Barriss let out a stiff chuckle at Kedoa's faint comment as the cockpit to her interceptor opened. Despite the showing put on by the Inquisitors, which had been fun, the First Sister knew they had a timeframe they needed to maintain. She saved her insult for another time and instead focused on powering up her ship, which hummed and chimed as it warmed up.

The cockpit closed around Barriss as it slowly rose from the solid grey durasteel flooring, hovering for a brief moment before rising higher and zooming out of the hangar, roughly following the flight path of Ruhr's Delta-7B.

“Probably,” Dan admitted, flat-toned. He couldn’t meet Kedoa’s eyes, instead glaring off to the side, towards the hangar’s durasteel floor. Echoes of the Force Fear still ran through him. ’Only I will remain,’ Dan reminded himself, still stubbornly clinging to the one bit of Jedi teaching he could use. “Nothing that won’t mend.”

Kedoa looked upon the man for a time--the former Jedi she had "broken." How long had it been since then? He seemed just as pathetic as the day she'd had her way with him in the interrogation room. The supposed nightmares. The faint ramblings she'd overheard... Funny, the woman thought. She hadn't even tortured him as brutally as she had expected to. She had only told him what he needed to hear.

The Zabrak stifled a laugh. "Hah, I hope for your sake it does," she commented in a disturbingly cheerful tone, mixed with that tell-tale spirit of arrogance. "Haven't you seen? Ours is a life of competition. It's all a contest, after all..."

She leaned in, letting her voice devolve into a soft hiss into his ear. "And without wits, you're as good as mincemeat!"

Kedoa then pivoted on her heel, and departed without another word. She walked with a certain pep in her step, black cloak flourishing over her form-fitting uniform as she marched towards the impressive Theta-Class landing craft from whence she came.

Dan let out a breath once Kedoa was gone. Some day, he’d have to try and stand up for himself instead of giving in, but that would have to wait for a time when he hadn’t been blasted by Force-induced fear. Without another word, he made his way to the blue Delta-12 parked in the hangar.

Soon, it was flying out toward the Triumph. The Fourth Sister’s V-Wing soon followed, the last of the Inquisitor’s ships to leave and the last to land aboard the Acclamator.

[United Islands of Polis]

Dr. Kliment Matvei Zubarev
High Orbit, Mimban
Aboard the RDFHS Helping Hand, Pediatrics Wing

Putting down a flashlight, Matvei internally smiled at the state of the Mimbanese child. It had not been a very long time since the Confederacy was finally deposed by the local liberation army and what was then the Republic, and thus juvenile malnutrition, among other problems, was still more or less rampant. But with how the Empire has been running things, it looks like the situation may get worse, perhaps even the re-ignition of hostilities. Regardless, the sorry state the child who was brought here via the medical shuttle convoy a week ago was now healthier, and much more responsive, the color from his face was back, and could smile again.

Putting the stethoscope around his neck again, he turned to face the mother of the child who was near the bed, seated on a chair. "Ma'am, are you aware of what state Zib here came in?"

The mother fidgeted a bit, as if being judged by the doctor. "I know that he was not doing well, doctor. That's why I had him brought here."

Matvei picked up a clipboard, writing some notes into it. "Well his thinning was not from malnutrition, but he was at risk of it. Not parasites neither. It was pneumonia. Normally it is impossible for it to originate from the common cold, unless the surroundings can help progress the bacteria. Are you able to keep warm for majority of the year?"

"No, the place we live in was hit one of the hardest in the fighting. Staying alive was good enough at that point." The mother stroked the crown of the child affectionately.

Matvei was taken aback. They rarely noted where these people came from, indeed it was practically a miracle for a child to even be alive and living in the hardest hit part of the insurgency against the CIS. "My apologies Missus Huklon."

"Well he should be discharged by the week. Now we ae keeping him in telemetry for the time being to keep an eye on his recovery. He will also be having two x-rays within the week. One to make sure the pneumonia bacteria is gone, and the second one to make sure his lings are clear." Matvei put the clipboard back, hanging off of the bed. "Now I have to say ma'am, you may stay here up until his discharge, we have no beds or dorms for visitors, but the canteens and commissaries do provide free meals for up to two visitors per patient, just show them proof. But as you know, there is the visitors shuttle which works 24/7 like most of our shuttles. So I will leave the option up to you."

The mother pondered for a moment, seeming to have made the decision in her mind already. "I will take note of that, Doctor Zubarev. Thank you."

"Now before I go, I believe cooperative kids deserve a treat!" Matvei stuck both hands into his coat pockets, one his right hand containing the confectionary treat before putting them in front of the young Mimbanese. "Pick a hand!"

The child picked the right one, but Matvei was quicker to hide in in his sleeve. opening his right hand produced nothing, the same for his left hand. "Oh, well it's not in my left hand neither."

"Have you been a good boy, Zib?" The mother asked, the ghost of a smile forming on her features.

The child looked confused, darting eyes from between his mother and the doctor, looking as if he were about to burst into tears, but instead slumped down, pulling his knees closer to his body. Matvei was indeed still going to give the child a treat, but it was the timing that was needed. He needed to give it at a time where they were not too sad, nor not too excited or anticipating the treat. And that time was now.

Matvei adjusted the pillow on the bed. "Oh it's okay, Zib. You were very cooperative, but if you're even more cooperative, you'll finally get one. Wait, what's this behind your ear?" He reached out, shaking the sleeve of his coat, the candy slipping out into his right hand, and bringing it to behind the child's ear, before showing the cellophane wrapped sweet to the child, who quickly took it, uttering a too quick, but loud thank you.

He took his leave right there, heading off to the other various wards and wings of the modified Invincible class dreadnaught, checking in on his assigned patients, before making his way back to the bridge. By then it was already 10pm according to the Mimbanese time periods. He did not know if it was odd or not, but there was an unusually large amount of patients now, however considering the end of the war, and the situation the planet was in, and the surrounding planets, it truly was no surprise.

From the bridge, Matvei saw the steady convoys of medical shuttles flying to and from. He was hoping more were flying to bring back well patients than to intake more. Knowing more people were being healed and helped instead of more needing help was a more comforting thought, but he knew reality, and the reality was most likely the opposite. Captain Rafael Kaufman was busy on a console with other navigation officers and other researchers, charting their next course. In accordance to the mandate of the Roaming Doctors Foundation, they had to go wherever help was needed, but in the Outer Rim, help was needed in everything and everywhere, so a process of elimination had to be used.

"We're going south. More people need help there and it should be relatively safe."

"But we also need a major re-supply soon, Mek-Sha is the best bet."

"A pirate hideout? Are you out of your mind? We make for Naboo first, a friendly place to re-supply."

"It's too far, and pirates wouldn't attack us as a hospital ship."

"Daft fool, without any security presence those pirates will try something. No."

They were going at it again. It's only ever happened twice, but he didn't like the division of the crew. One willing to take risks, the others wanting to operate safely, but at least they were united on the front of helping anyone in need. From the viewport, he walked towards the bickering group, coughing into his hand to announce his presence. "Friends, let me look at this."

Looking at the star-charts, and other documents, they were in need of a resupply of stocks all around. The nearest stations were rather shady at most, and the shuttles they have for cargo transportation are few, and would take weeks to resupply the ship in comparison to the few days or hours it would take to intake supplies while at anchor. It made him miss having a significant fleet of Peltas, during the Clone Wars the Helping Hand had one or two Peltas with it at all times to act as a cargo hauler to keep them in the zone to help people. But they only had several now and they were spread out all over the galaxy. There was an even ground here somewhere.

Matvei scratched his head as he looked at the map. "I need some of you to take inventory of what we really need, and send the cargo shuttles to fetch them. I don't like going to Hutt Space influenced stations, but we also can't fully negate having to use Mek-Sha if ever."

Drawing a line on the holographic map, Matvei indicated their future course. It put them close to Makeb where mek-Sha would be, and a hyperspace route to Naboo. "Here, does this look better?"

There was an aura of agreement between the doctors and the navigational officers, nodding amongst themselves. Captain Kaufman broke the silence first. "Then that's the path, its not the best but decent."

Matvei flashed them all a genuine smile. "Alright! Then we set that course in a week." Getting up, he left the bridge for his personal quarters. he was going to grab whatever sleep he could, his next round of check-ups was going to be in the early morning, so sleep was a premium for him at this point.

[The Imperial Republic]

A New Mission - Part 2

---

Imperial Acclamator-class Triumph

Five small starships rose from Nur’s surface, landing in the Acclamator’s hangar. And once the last was aboard, Captain Hernwick knew there’d be no peace until they reached Mek-Sha. He was even less thrilled about the majority of the Triumph’s Purge Troopers being taken for the assault on Tiamat. Why Karnu hadn’t requested the full support of his ship, he would never know. Perhaps the Admiral held some resent for him. Maybe it was the universe itself that did, leaving him trapped on the ship with five Inquisitors and no Purge Troopers to keep them in check. “What do we do about the lightsaber brats, Captain?” Asked one of the bridge crew- clearly a member of the 411th, as evidenced by his disdain for force users. CT-1000, or ‘Grand’, Hernwick remembered. “Avoid them if possible,” he answered. “And if you have to be around them, don’t make anger them. Let them tear each other apart instead of giving them reason to turn on the crew.”

On the main hangar floor, lines of dozens of clone troopers stood, their carbines at the 'attention' position. At the head of them was a single trooper, wearing a pauldron and kama typical of that of a commanding officer. His helmet, similar to the others around him, was the Airborne variant. These troopers belonged to the 7th Airborne Regiment. They weren't the 411th, but they would do as the support role for the Inquisitors' mission to Mek-Sha. As the first ship began it's approach to the hangar, Commander Fenn stood at staunch attention, holding still and professional. Ruhr's modified Delta-7B was the first to land in the hangar, the cockpit opening for its pilot. Ruhr Draay exited the starfighter and watched for the arrival of the others, the Inquisitor's Lightsaber hanging from his belt.

From the cockpit of her Actis starfighter, Barriss slowed the ship's approach into the hangar of the familiar Acclamator-Class assault ship. The astromech droid, beeping and chiming as it fed the interceptor intelligence regarding the surroundings of the ship, including it's captain, clone complement and the position of Ruhr Draay's Delta-7B as he emerged from it's cockpit. Barriss nudged the controls to the left as she flipped switches to power down shields, afterburner access and weapons and the landing gears emerged from below. Landing side by side with the Delta-7B, Barriss prompted the ship's almost unnervingly transparent cockpit lid to open. The interceptor came to a soft landing as Barriss had unfastened her safety belts and stood up from within. With an effortless jump from the ship, she landed gracefully a few feet from it. She adorned her helmet, which she'd kept in the starfighter for when missions called for it. From the damage sustained by Martius Shan, she'd repaired most of it, a thin bead of metal slag cut between the nose and eye portions, horizontally placed to meld the helmet back together, giving it all the more sinister appearance. Aside from her fellow brother, Barriss had noticed the clones standing nearby, at attention. Her eyes caught the glimpse of one who would have appeared to be the commanding officer. She approached him. "I am First Sister of the Inquisitorius. I would assume you're the man...oh." Barriss stifled a laugh from under her helmet and began correcting her mistake. "You're the clone in charge?"

Commander Fenn's spine chilled as he came face to face with one of the Inquisitors he'd heard rumors about. He remained quiet and still, his chin raised high and professional. He was glad his face was hidden under the helmet. "CC-04/2124, ma'am. Commanding Officer for the 7th Airborne Regiment, ma'am." Replied Fenn. Barriss tilted her head to the side at the response from Fenn. She wouldn't return him a response. She would simply look down and inspect him thoroughly from his boots to the crown of his helmet. Very slightly, the First Sister released a chuckle from under her helmet, very lightly picked up by its audio distorter. She turned her feet to the side and began pacing behind him, continuing to examine this new clone. "You're a strong one, for a Clone." She said as she took her gloved hand and gently drug her fingers along the bottom portion of his helmet, circling around to the back. "I can smell it..." she said, placing her head right next to his upon his shoulder and quickly bringing it back up, continuing to chuckle. "I was expecting Commander Brutus. Where is he?" She asked.

Commander Fenn, with a sort of cool and calm demeanor, took deep breaths as the Inquisitor circled him, like a predator to prey. He wanted to turn his head to follow her, but resorted to maintaining the type of posture they'd beaten into him during his training on Kamino. Instead, he continued facing forward. "I have no information regarding Commander Brutus, ma'ma. His name is unfamiliar to me." Kedoa's Theta-Class was the next to pull into the hangar, some time after the arrival of Ruhr and Barriss. The Third Sister's imposing landing craft drifted almost gracefully to a more open section of the hangar, alongside some of the Acclamator's larger shuttles and transport ships. As it began to touch down, its dual side wings folded upward. "Finally..." Kedoa grumbled, pushing herself from the swiveling co-pilot's seat and marching out of the cockpit, opting to leave the ship's RX-series pilot droid to handle the rest of the systems.

She had a love-hate relationship with this particular ship. "Appropriated" from an ex-Senator she had been tasked with "relieving of their duties" roughly a month or two ago, their high-end T-2c had since been claimed as her own, rather than left to the scrappers. It obviously was no starfighter, nor was she as skilled in piloting beyond what her own experience and trust in the Force could give her, but this luxury shuttle had been turned into a specialized and heavily-armed transport vessel. It provided more than enough facilities and supplies to last her through whatever sustained mission that kept her away from civilization for long periods of time. It served almost as a miniature headquarters, capable of sheltering several tons of cargo, or a handful of passengers. And though such a niche, situational use likely would not be necessary for their upcoming mission on Mek-Sha, knowing the tenacity of the Jedi exiles they had faced already, it wouldn't hurt to be prepared for anything at this point. The moment the landing ramp lowered to the floor, the Third Sister marched down into the hangar, flanked by a spherical probe droid that floated closely behind her. Donning her own helmet that concealed the last vestiges of the Zabrak's identity, she padded out the wrinkles in her form-fitting uniform, and made her way to the growing congregation of her fellow Inquisitors. "Quite a first impression you're making, Sister."

"Brutus must be on an important mission. He would never pass up the chance to kill several Jedi in a single mission." Ruhr Draay said to the First Sister before turning his attention to the Clone commander. "7th Airborne? I've heard about its successes in the Clone Wars. Were you around for any of its battles? Or were you one of the last Clones grown before the shutdown the cloning facilities?" Ruhr said to CC-2124 "I've been with the 7th since the beginning, sir. It's all I've ever known." Commander Fenn simply replied. Two more small ships landed in the Triumph’s hangar- Dan’s blue Delta-12, and Aragwen’s plain grey V-Wing. The Delta was the first to release its pilot. Both cockpits opened, but only one had an occupant. Dan knew what ship this was the moment his feet hit the floor. The presences aboard, they were familiar. Years spent in the Allst Prime campaign had taught him to recognize each clone’s unique presence in the Force. Some of them were still here, but not all- one in particular was missing. The absence stung. Still, being aboard the Triumph again was light years better than being stuck in the Fortress.

He knew he was late to the party- he could see Kedoa, Ruhr, and Barriss had already found some unfortunate clone to gather around- not one of the 411th, though. The lack of black armor was indication enough, the unfamiliar presence in the Force only confirmed it. As he walked around his ship, pretending to inspect it for anything unusual, Dan let his senses magnify. He heard the discussion, Barriss asking for Brutus by name with a strange kind of hunger in her voice. (Or maybe Dan was imagining things.) The new clone apparently didn’t know. It made sense- the 411th’s service wasn’t something most people knew, even among the former Republic Army. Evidently this new clone commander would be very different from what Dan was used to. He decided that he wouldn’t like that. Aragwen’s V-Wing was parked beside Dan’s Delta-12. Oddly, he couldn’t recall seeing its pilot leave. ”Is she still in there?” Dan wondered. He reached out with the Force, carefully undoing the V-Wing’s cockpit seal. Suddenly, there was a hiss, and the whine of a small motor as the dark canopy lifted of its own volition. Either Aragwen or her Q7 had opened it. Dan suspected the latter, as Aragwen’s head was reclined back against the V-Wing’s seat, slightly rolled off to one side. She wore her helmet, but he imagined she might have been sleeping, exhausted from Barriss’ Force Drain. ”What.” Aragwen asked, her voice flat, but still soft. Not asleep, then. She sounded like she’d just been woken up. Groggy might have been the appropriate term. “ We’re on the Acclamator,” said Dan, and he immediately felt useless for it. Of course she’d know they were on the ship, he was just stating the obvious. Like an idiot. “They’ve prepared quarters for all of us. Probably figures that the clones don’t want a bunch of Inquisitors running around freely.”

If Aragwen had reacted at all to that, she didn’t show it. Dan couldn’t sense anything through the Force either. She was always hard to read- he suspected she could guard her mind from unwanted intruders. Dan wished she’d mentioned as much earlier, it would have helped him look less pathetic in the Fortress’ hangar, when he’d been hit by Force-induced fear. Aragwen climbed out of her cockpit, and Dan could see exhaustion weighing on her limbs as her boots met the hangar floor. The Fourth Sister could barely walk, more falling forward and stopping herself with each step. Dan tried something- tried to pull The Force from himself so he could re-energize Aragwen, save her some measure of humiliation. But the Dark Side clung to him still, and it was a selfish thing that wouldn’t be shared. He’d never been able to heal others anyway. Dan settled for supporting Aragwen, holding her up- which was supremely awkward, as she had a good few inches on him. But at least she wasn’t refusing his help. The two of them slowly began to make their way out of the hangar. Dan prayed that the other Inquisitors would be too busy to notice. Like Kedoa had said, theirs was a life of competition. Showing weakness was a death sentence.

As Barriss completed her circle around, she continued to eye Fenn, ignoring her fellow Sister's comment, though would reply on Ruhr's assessment with an "Indeed". She stood facing Fenn for a moment, seemingly staring beyond the blackened shade of his Airborne helmet and right into his dark brown eyes. She inched her face closer to his and smiled widely. "That's a pity." Was all she said before backing away and turning, immediately noticing two Inquisitors seemingly hugging upon one another. Her eyes widened at the sight of the Fourth Sister nearly toppling over despite Fifth Brother's assistance. Barriss couldn't help but feel entertained and mildly happy at the sight and couldn't help but approach just as they'd made it past the rest of the Inquisitors. "My.....my.......my...." Muttered Barriss, just loudly enough for the Fifth Brother to hear as she intercepted them. "Look at this sight. Enjoying the consequences of your actions, Sister? You seem a bit tired." Barriss said, releasing a stiff chuckle. Her eyes immediately would dart to Dan Brovil. "And you? Is there a reason you seem to be hugging unto her? Perhaps you wish to try your luck with her? Tsk, tsk, tsk." She said cheekily. "Well, better get her to bed, Inquisitor." The First Sister said as she slowly walked towards Dan, moving her head gently towards his then diverting to the side of his head, resting her chin against his shoulder. With a slow and breathy inclusion, she added "Or is it still Jedi Knight?" as an intentional jab at him for his show of compassion to his fellow Inquisitor.

"Ignore her. Your prowess in combat are all that matters. The Jedi we will be hunting are no longer your ally and they will not hesitate to kill you, so do not hold back when you engage them. It does not matter whether their deaths are caused by your Lightsaber, the Force, or a poisoned blade if you are willing to use one, so long as the Jedi you face in combat dies." Ruhr Draay said to the Fifth Brother as he turned his attention to the newest member of the Inquisition. The First Sister's notice of the shuffling duo of Inquisitors inevitably led to them catching the ire of her peers as well. Interestingly enough, however, in contrast to Barriss' commentary and Ruhr's chastisements, the Third Sister stood silent. The woman's hands came to rest upon her hips, and her helmet masked any semblance of a facade that her face could show. Though the orange glow of her visor followed them, "staring" at the trio of Inquisitors on their way out of the hangar, Kedoa let her mind wander--a certain coldness to her analyzing, seemingly listless gaze.

It came as little surprise to see the First Sister's rather shameless flaunting of her supposed "superiority," after that pervious quarrel back at the fortress. Looking back on it, even Kedoa herself had been irked a number of times by the Fourth Sister's temperament. To her, Aragwen was a peculiar breed; seemingly strong-willed and shrewd enough to shrug off the distractions brought on by the incessant banter and blatant hostility of her peers, yet bearing just enough of that tell-tale instability that invariably resulted in that little spat back on Nur. She was quiet, yet still brimming with the rage of the Dark Side. Patient, yet decisive. Almost willfully ignorant, yet always...listening. Even her own attempts to silently probe into the Fourth Sister's enigmatic mind were met with little success. She couldn't help but wonder what dwelled within that head of hers. It made her curious to no end. It made her want to prod the nest - perhaps learn just how that so uniquely-crooked brain worked...perhaps learn just what made the big woman tick.

What came as even less of a surprise was Dan assisting her, but that didn't stop the Third Sister from feeling annoyed about it. A frown formed beneath her black metallic mask. Had her previous words gone through one ear and out the other - completely unheard? Or was it yet another of his vain attempts to cling to those pathetic "Jedi teachings" she had tried to wring out of his pathetic excuse for a brain? Such fleeting thoughts and pointless compassion would, in the long run, only earn him more lashings. More betrayal. More pain. More than that, when would he finally learn to fight back against that little runt and her words? If he felt useless, why not do something about it, you cowardly fool...? Her brow then suddenly furrowed, finding herself rather unexpectedly puzzled by her own contemplations. Why was she even dwelling on this? Why did she even care--?

No, she banished the thought. She recalled her words to him in that interrogation room - that the answers he sought would only tear him to ribbons. And if he wished to learn the hard way, she figured, why should she bother to stop him? Kedoa slowly shook her head. "I'm going to meditate," she said plainly, seemingly to no one in particular, before making for the hangar's exit as well. She gave an offhanded wave, prompting the hovering probe droid to accompany her.

As the Inquisitors seemed to have lost interest with him, Commander Fenn took it upon himself to step forward three steps, bringing himself closer to the mass of Inquisitors now speaking among themselves. "Excuse me, Inquisitors. Your quarters are located in Section 14 of this level, do you require assistance in finding them?" Fenn said.

"Don't be disgusting," Aragwen muttered to the First Sister. If she had any strength left in her body, she would've wrung the crazy whore's neck right there, and left her body for the soldiers to clean up- but it wouldn't be today. Dan had little reaction to Barriss' provocations. Aragwen had seen how he seemed to simply tolerate the abuse thrown at him by the other Inquisitors, and couldn't quite tell if Dan was patient, or just stubborn. She could find time to ask him later. Odds were he'd end up around her again, after she'd rested. Stuck to the one Inquisitor that wasn't openly hostile towards him. Aragwen wasn't complaining about it at present. She didn't trust her legs not to give out on her, and any of the other Inquisitors would rather kick her knees out and watch her fall than try and support her. Dan seemed to know his way around an Acclamator, judging by his dismissal of the clone's offer.

"Thanks for the offer, but I can find my own way." Ruhr said to the Clone as he left the hangar.

Barriss, thoroughly amused by her tired Sister's response, reeled her head back from Dan Brovil, smirking at him as she began walking backwards. Her eyes turned to Commander Fenn, staring at him as he stepped forward after the question. "That'll be unnecessary, Commander." She said, turning around and following Ruhr's footsteps towards the dorms.

Dan led her through hall after identical hall, stopping only when Aragwen stumbled and nearly fell. Her hatred for Barriss grew with each step, until she was sure that waves of anger were pouring out from her, polluting the minds of the soldiers on board. The hatred only subsided when Dan stopped, and Aragwen heard the hiss of automatic doors opening. Her quarters, she figured. Aragwen believed that Dan would have brought her all the way in, but she shrugged him off. She had a little bit of pride left. Dan didn’t say anything to her, even when the doors slammed shut. What could he have said anyways? They were Inquisitors, and Inquisitors did not bond, even if they might have wanted to. Aragwen stripped off her uniform’s armor plating, kicked off her boots, and dumped her helmet, leaving all of it in a messy pile on the floor. The bed she got wasn’t the most comfortable, and it was slightly too short for her, but she found herself not caring. When she collapsed on it, it felt like the finest Naboo silk. Aragwen’s head hit the pillow, her eyes shut, and finally, sleep took her.

After a short walk, the First Sister arrived to her quarters. With a quick touch of the control panel, the hydraulic powered door whooshed open, revealing a perfectly neat and tidy space normally reserved for higher ranking personnel other than standard rank-and-file clone troopers. On the left side was a typical bed with tan sheets and thin blanket along with an even thinner pillow. Located on both sides of the bed was shelving and cabinets built into the grey metal walls. In the center was nothing, no mats or welcoming decorum. On the opposite side was a desk, a small chair pushed into the spacing normally reserved for legs and feet. Barriss walked in, her helmeted head panning around to examine her quarters for the time she had it. It wasn't much but it was slightly better than the quarters she was given at the unfinished Fortress Inquisitorius. At least the walls were of a brighter color grey. She reached upwards and gasped ahold of both sides of the helmet, releasing the pressurized seals keeping it locked in place. Slowly, she lifted it from her head just as the door behind her closed shut. She walked over to the table, gently setting down her helmet and following it with the unclicking of her lightsabers upon her belt and resting them next to the helmet. She reached up, carefully undoing the brace keeping her hair pinned down and laid it down on the table, as well. Her long, flowing black hair fell by her shoulders and down half of her back. She plopped down upon the bedding, realizing it was much harder than it looked. Regardless, she could feel her spine beginning to release tons of tension as the muscles in her back relaxed. She breathed a sigh of relief. She stared up at the matching colored ceiling above her. She picked her head up and placed her eyes upon the control panel of the door. With a swish of her hand, the door beeped with a confirmation that it had locked. With that, she laid her head back down and closed her eyes.

---

Unfortunately for Dan, however, the first thing to greet him before he could continue on his way was not one of the crew, nor another faceless clone trooper, but Kedoa. With arms crossed, the Third Sister was leaned against the wall opposite him, next to one of the many identical barrack doors that dotted this dull and depressing corridor of their Acclamator. For a time, the orange glow of her helmet's visor bore into his eyes. There was something peculiar about her aura - behind that familiar coldness that seemed to "radiate" around her very being. Not one of overt hostility, but rather...disapproving. Curious, almost...

"What? Thought you'd make an ally?" her vocoded voice spoke, almost taunting him for his show of kindness. No doubt she was sporting that same mocking grin from behind that mask of hers. "Or are you still clinging to that cute little Code of yours...?"

Dan took a long inward breath when he heard the familiar, mocking tone. She still thought so little of him, and Dan couldn’t blame her. He was just as out of place among the Inquisitors as he was with the Jedi. That had to be why he latched on to the only one that hadn’t been deliberately cruel to him yet. Kedoa, by contrast, was very much deliberately cruel- to Dan, and anyone else unlucky enough to earn her ire. At least this time, without force-induced fear shoved into his mind, he could muster up the strength to meet her gaze. “Not in the mood for this, Kedoa,” was his response. It took most of his willpower (as well as being back on a familiar ship) to get it out.

"Of course you aren't, you sniveling little maggot," Kedoa fired right back, all but shooting down what easily took much of Dan's inner strength to remotely stand up to her. "Have you learned nothing?" She uncrossed her legs, planting the flat of her boot against the wall behind her. "The weak deserve no pity. Theirs is to rise above themselves, or wither and die," she went on, the certain calmness in her tone making it all the more threatening. "And the sooner you do away with this vain notion of camaraderie you cling to, the sooner you may become something more than just another ex-Jedi misfit! You might have the rest of those boneheaded morons fooled, but the Grand Inquisitor?" Kedoa cocked her head to the side and shrugged, allowing her voice to grow cold. "Perhaps he'll finish what I couldn't be bothered to...?"

Dan felt something within, the same kind of resolve that had gotten him through his duel with Kota, through the Allst Prime campaign, and through Order 66. Was he afraid of Kedoa? Yes, he was. But resolve could grow stronger than fear. Only I will remain. “Maybe the reason you all keep losing is because you’re too busy trying to kill each other, ever think about that?” Dan found himself surprised by his own words, but he kept going. He’d jumped fully into this pit, now it was all he could do to keep falling. He was stepping towards Kedoa now, with a confidence he’d long thought lost. “The Inquisitors failed on Bracca, they failed on Odessen, and if I’m still ‘clinging to the code’, then you failed at breaking me. If we’re going to somehow break that record of failure, then we start by not shooting ourselves in the foot. If the Grand Inquisitor has a problem with that, he can try and deal with it himself. I’ll prove him wrong. And I’ll prove you wrong too.” He wasn’t yelling, per se, but his voice was projected more. Like the General he used to be, on this very ship. Dan clenched his fists, almost as if he wanted to strike Kedoa. But he halted himself, tugging some internal restraint to reign himself in.

“You can call me a sniveling maggot all you want, Kedoa,” Dan continued. “But you’re not going to break me, not anymore than you have.” He glared at her, as if he wanted to keep going- but there was silence from him. The silence was broken by a banging from inside Aragwen’s door, and a muffled ”Quiet.” from behind it.

“I’m going to meditate,” Dan said, echoing what Kedoa had said in the hangar. He pushed past the Third Sister, off for one of the empty rooms left.

The black-clad Inquisitor had been motionless during his tirade, seemingly unresponsive to the flare of anger that Dan had subjected her to. Only after he departed did Kedoa finally move, craning her head to watch him make for one of the prepared barracks rooms. But even as he disappeared from view, the automatic door casting an echoing hiss down the dimly-lit corridor, she did naught but linger against that wall, lost in her own thoughts.

She questioned her reticence. After all, she very well could have laid him out upon the floor of the corridor again. Yet she didn't? Perhaps she had been taken aback by it, or finally silenced by his own argument. Or perhaps part of her had simply aimed to set him off? To finally let loose that fire that had stirred within the Fifth Brother's heart...?

Perhaps something...wanting him to fight back?

In the end, beneath the black mask, a smile formed on her face.

"Very good..."

[Brusia]

The Blue Harvest - Chapter 1

Mek-Sha

Martius Shan
Nardrashtasch
Vrudun Tumara
Tuka Tisrygian
Jace Tholme
Rhys Aatahl

As the group of Jedi searchers split up and made their way to the industrial zone to seek out the mysterious Thaumiel and the undisclosed location of their meeting, Martius took a different path into Mek-Sha proper to seek out an old acquaintance. As he walked the run-down streets of the station, he was surprised at just how little things seemed to have changed since he was last here all those years ago as a Padawan; perhaps things had been so run down even then it was simply hard to notice the difference, but as the galaxy all around them underwent massive, horrendous changes it was almost as though this place had simply frozen in time.

After a few more minutes of walking along the station’s narrow walkways, Martius eventually found himself outside of his destination: the Slugfall Cantina. The Slugfall was the oldest cantina on the station and one of the last remnants of Mek-Sha’s short-lived independence from the Hutts. More importantly, it was also the location Martius and his former master used to meet with one of their contacts; he could only hope that she had changed as little as the station.

Walking inside, Martius made his way to the bar at the back of the establishment and ordered himself a drink. The bartender, an older Duros who looked decidedly unhappy at his post, haphazardly poured a glass while Martius leaned towards him and asked: “Say, I’ve been looking for an old friend of mine who used to work here; Zeltron by the name of Dyra. Don’t suppose you know her by any chance?”
The bartender scoffed as he handed Martius his drink and replied: “Didn’t know Dyra had friends. Might’ve seen her around, but memory’s abit fuzzy these days y’know?”

Martius slid the payment for his drink along with a sizable tip over to the bartender and replied: “That jog your memory any?”

“Matter of fact it did” the man replied while pocketing the credits. “Seem to recall I saw her in the side office over that way not too long ago. Might be able to catch her there if you hurry.”

“Much obliged” Martius replied before taking a quick sip of his drink and heading for the office in question. When he arrived, Martius knocked on the door and heard a familiar voice beckon “Come in.” Martius walked through the door to find himself staring down the barrel of a hold-out blaster held by the unmistakable Dyra. Her light pink skin and cerulean hair already set her apart from most of the station’s denizens, but it was her piercing silver eyes that truly distinguished her, even among other Zeltrons.

Martius lifted his hands slightly into the air and stated: “Really now, is that any way to greet an old friend?” Dyra cocked her head to the side a little as she looked him over for a second before replying: “Martius Shan, as I live and breathe. Thought the Empire got all you Jedi.”
“Well as you can see, I’m still here; at least so long as you don’t pull that trigger.”

Realizing she was still holding her blaster, Dyra set the weapon on her desk and replied: “Sorry about that; can’t be too careful these days. Please, have a seat.”

Martius sat down in one of the two chairs placed in front of Dyra’s desk and continued: “It’s good to see you again Dyra.” Looking around the office at the various decorations for a moment, he turned back to the Zeltron and asked: “So I take it you run the Slugfall now?”
“That I do. Former owner made the mistake of crossing the Pykes and I inherited the place after they ‘concluded their business’ with him.” She leaned forward on her desk towards Martius, peering into his eyes before continuing: “But something tells me you aren’t here just to catch up for old times’ sake. So, what is it you need?”

“Just some information. When we landed here we were contacted by a group calling themselves the ‘Blue Harvest.’ They set up a meeting with us in the industrial sector but didn’t tell us where; just to find someone calling himself ‘Thaumiel.’ My Master used to say nothing happens on this station without you knowing about it, so I was hoping you could point us in their direction and hopefully tell me a little more about who it is we may be dealing with.”

“I see. And let me guess, you can’t afford to pay for the information, right?”
“I’m afraid things have been a little tight for the Order since, you know, the whole most of us getting brutally murdered thing.” He took a deep breath and continued: “Look, I know I have no right to come here after all these years and ask this of you, but to be honest our situation is growing increasingly desperate and I could really use your help.”

Dyra leaned back in her chair and let out a heavy sigh, looking up at the ceiling for a few moments before looking back to Martius and replying: “Fine. After everything Meetra did for me I guess I owe it to her to help you out, but to be clear after that the slate is clean; you want anything more, you pay for it just like everyone else.”

“Fair enough” Martius replied “And thank you.”
“Yeah, well don’t thank me yet” she replied while holding her arm out towards Martius, who reached into his satchel and handed her his datapad. As she typed in a set of coordinates, she continued: “Even I really don’t have much info on these guys; just kind of showed up out of the blue one day and been a thorn in the Hutts’ sides ever since. Tend to keep to themselves mostly, but Hutts don’t like having folks they don’t control operating out of their territory so they keep finding the Blue Harvest and move in to shut them down only to walk into an ambush or find they’ve just vanished without a trace.”

She handed Martius back his datapad and continued: “Lucky for you though my people aren’t as stupid as the ones working for the Hutts. You’ll find what you’re looking for at those coordinates, but word of advice: be careful. Getting too close to these Blue Harvest guys could find you on the Hutts’ bad side real quick, assuming they don’t plan to just ambush and kill you outright. And for whatever stock you put into intuition, these guys give me the creeps.”

“I see” Martius replied “I’ll be sure to keep my guard up than, and thank you again for your help.” Martius politely bowed his head and made his out of the office, as Dyra just shook her head.
“Jedi” she said to herself. “Of all the cantinas, on all the stations, in all the galaxy, why did one have to walk into mine…”

After heading outside and finding a quiet and secluded area a short distance from the cantina, Martius grabbed his holocomm and contacted all the Jedi on their secure frequency: “This is Master Shan, I have obtained the coordinates of the Blue Harvest’s safehouse and am forwarding them to you all now. If you are able, please rendezvous with me there at your earliest convenience.” He then closed the channel and made his way over to the industrial sector…
Some time later…

After scouting the area as they previously discussed, and allowing the HK units time to set up on nearby rooftops should they need to make a hasty escape, Martius and the group were as ready as they were going to be for the meeting and so made their way to the Blue Harvest safehouse and asked for Thaumiel as instructed…

"Vrudun. We don't have any time left to waste figuring out which speeder is the best on fuel consumption. Just take this one, for Force's sake." Said Jace Tholme quite forcefully. Vrudun quickly turned his head, flashing a look of total disgust at the direction of Jace's finger. What he pointed at was a M.II Falcon, a big, clunky, way out of date model that sucked through fuel harder than any else on the lot. He couldn't believe what this human was saying. But he was correct. "Gah, fine. We'll take that one." Said Vrudun, shooting a smirking look, bowing and holding his hands out in a "There, happy?" posture. Jace threw his hands up, shaking his head and walking towards the speeder dealer to finalize the process.

The journey to the coordinates given to the Jedi had led them a moderate distance away from where they'd previously been. Despite being the passenger, Vrudun admired Jace's driving abilities as he cut through the relatively light traffic lanes of the hour.

They'd parked their speeder a good distance away and walked the remainder. The two Jedi were the first to approach Martius, who gave a nod at the sight of the two.

Tuka was the next to approach Martius and the gang. The Jedi Padawan had walked with Afon and looked for some escape routes in case this meeting turned out to be a trap. Truth be told, Tuka didn't like this prospective meeting at all. It just didn't sit well with him that they had been contacted almost the second they arrived at Mek-Sha. Still, he had to trust the Masters.

The Blue Harvest’s current Safehouse was just another industrial building in a long line of industrial buildings. In another time, it might have been a storehouse. But now, it held something greater. The Force was emanating from it like a beacon, a call that only a Jedi could hear. When the Jedi who had answered the call approached, there was a small click as the humanoid-sized access door positioned beside the larger freight doors opened. A tall, spindly, cloaked figure ducked its long neck through the doorway and raised its eyes to the Jedi-

“She was right! I knew it!” Thaumiel exclaimed. The Quermian immediately seemed embarrassed of his outburst, quickly glancing left and right before continuing in a more hushed tone. “Lady Ag’derrod is inside, she’s been waiting to meet with you.. ah, is this all of your group? I thought I saw more on the holocall.”

Despite the pleadings of Beli, the Vigil's resident pilot and supposed shipmate of Vrudun Tumara, Nardrashtasch abandoned the ship. In violation of Beli's order to lock down the Vigil and lay low, Master Nardrashtasch simply couldn't abide. Regardless of the soreness across his body that he'd been suffering through since his awakening, he could not disobey Master Shan's call. He knew very little about what the Blue Harvest was and was quickly filled in on the situation by Rhys Aatahl, who would not seem to obey Nard's order to remain on the ship and protect Beli. He admired the Padawan's bravery and his drive, but was disappointed by his inability to listen to those above him.

But it was not Nard's place to correct him. After his encounter with the Bounty Hunters at the Odessen Temple, he wasn't there for the fight and wasn't acutely aware of what this young miraluka had encountered during that time. Instead, Nard slowly nodded and allowed him to come.

Without his lightsaber, the wookiee felt naked, unprotected. As he walked towards the group of Jedi, who had already begun interacting with a Quermian. Unless he somehow found another blade to call his own, he'd simply be forced to limit his abilities to the strength of his connection to the Force. Master Nardrashtasch was in earshot of the Quermian as he spoke, choosing to make his presence known to the other Jedi who had been distracted by the sight of the welcoming gatekeeper.

"There are more." Nardrashtasch said in Shyriiwook.

And from behind the towering master, Rhys timidly stepped up alongside him.

He felt more naked than the unarmed Wookiee at his side, despite having disguised himself with suitable garments to at least adequately throw off any suspicions of being a Jedi. A rugged and oversized coat, which he had "borrowed" from a wardrobe back on the Vigil--and with Beli's permission, of course--was draped loosely over his Jedi tunic, admittedly the only fitting attire he had to his name. It sported a hood that covered his distinctive white-grey hair, and his eyes (or lack thereof) were covered by a pair of opaque goggles rather than his blindfold. It was arguably the worst part of his newfound status as 'persona non grata.' For his kind, rarely seen around the wider Galaxy outside of the Jedi Order on account of their inherent grasp of the Force, his mere existence painted a target on his head...

To say the young Padawan was out of his element would be a gross understatement. During his years at the Jedi Temple, he rarely went outside at all, let alone on any sort of dangerous mission. In fact, his deployment to Mygeeto alongside his master was his first ever experience of venturing outside of his "home," barring his shipping to the Temple as a youngling, obviously. Now, here he was in this imposing, labyrinthine maze of a city, surrounded by things he had only read about in holobooks. It was certainly no ecumenopolis like Coruscant, but every street was like a planet of its own: the smells, the sounds, and most notably, the people. Every corner bore with it a sea of souls--none even remotely the same as the next--flooding his mind with their fleeting thoughts and wild emotions before passing by just as quickly as they came. To the brooding Miraluka, the sheer amount of activity was a sensory overload in and of itself.

But unlike the rest of this "city," this place felt...different. Familiar, even. It was like a burning light in a sea of darkness. To him, the Force that radiated from this place felt almost invigorating. It was an indescribably tranquil sensation - one that he hadn't felt since he had last been at the Temple, nose deep in his studies back in the Archives. There he had been surrounded by familiar faces and fellow Jedi, filling him with that lively feeling he knew all too well; the feeling he had longed for since the very day he felt that wound in the Force, tearing open a gaping void in his heart and mind that just refused to be mended. Now, in this sanctuary, he felt the serene pull of the Force, just as his peers did. Their own kind, perhaps reunited at last.

It actually brought a faint, warm smile to the young Padawan's face.

"Oh, that's wonderful." Thaumiel answered Nard, taking just a moment to eye Rhys. "But we shouldn't waste any more time out here- one can never be sure of who might be watching. Come in, please." The Quermian pulled the access door open, holding it so that the Jedi might enter- and finally see what the Blue Harvest was.

This was no great abandoned temple, like what had been waiting for them on Odessen. It was a storehouse, built with no tradition for pure functionality. The walls were plain, the room lit by industrial lighting. Various screens and monitors filled the front half of the main room, pulling data from the Holonet, tended to by a small number of beings of various species. A set of double doors was on each side wall- one lead to what was used as living quarters, the other to a modest storeroom for personal belongings and what few artifacts were held here. The rear half of the main room was set aside for two purposes- one would be sparring, evidenced by the presence of padded floors and storage of melee weapons. The secondary purpose was as a meditation circle, and it was this function that it served. A group of ten robed, hooded figures knelt in a circle, Force energy filling the air around them. When the Jedi neared, they stood and dispersed, many bowing respectfully to the new arrivals. Under the hoods, there were humans and aliens alike- not Jedi, but force-sensitive all the same. The last to rise was shorter than the rest, and stood sluggishly. Thaumiel approached it, leaning his long neck down and muttering something unintelligible.

The last one turned and lowered her hood. She was a human woman with silver hair gathered in a single braid- old, but age had been kind to her. She wore the light-colored tunic of a Jedi- albeit one that was worn ragged in some places. At her waist, the glittering hilt of a lightsaber. Her blue eyes turned to each of the Jedi in turn, and emotion seemed to get the better of her. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but no sound came out. What could one even say? Thaumiel was kind enough to fill the silence. "Jedi," He said. "Master Nileth Ag'derrod, leader of our Blue Harvest. I'll-" One of his four-fingered hands came to rest on Nileth's shoulder, and she covered it with her own for but a moment. "-I'll leave you all to reunite." In a flutter of robes, Thaumiel left with the rest of the robed beings.

"....I thought-" Nileth finally spoke, tears slowly filling her eyes. "....I thought I was the only one who made it... but you're here-" Once again, she looked over each of the Jedi. "....There's so many of you..." She stepped closer, reaching towards them as if to confirm that they were real, not some illusory presence or projection. "...So many..." Her hand fell back to her side. "....Were any of you... Bogden? Do you know what happened to Master Pongo? Master Sei?"

Jace Tholme, who'd remained quiet during the rallying of the Jedi at the location of Blue Harvest, had now become uneasy by the mention of Bogden by this fellow Jedi survivor. Jace swallowed heavily and with a deep breath, stepped forward passed Vrudun and to Martius, standing next to him. His eyes didn't glance at Master Ag'derrod first, but to Master Shan. Jace nodded slightly to the Master, hoping to earn his forgiveness for the intrusion in a matter that best needed addressing by the Master of their enclave. Instead, he'd take it upon himself to address it.

"My name is Jace Tholme, Master. I...I visited the Jedi Chapter House on Bogden Three. I-I met with Master Pongo. But...if anyone can survive this nightmare, it's Master Pongo. I never met met Master Sei, but if they're teaching students at the chapter house, then Master Sei can too." Said Jace, rubbing the back of his neck in a sign of discomfort.

As the rest of the group arrived, Martius was glad to see that Master Nardrashtasch accompanied them; it was certainly good to see him up and about again, though he hoped his Wookiee compatriot wasn’t pushing himself too hard so soon after his near mortal injury. Once the group was assembled, Martius followed behind Thaumiel and led the group inside, keeping his guard up and eyes peeled for any signs of a trap or ambush. Though the building looked to be little more than a simple storehouse, its appearance belied the strength of the Force emanating from within its various chambers and hallways. For a moment it almost felt like being back at the Alliance base on Odessen in the months before the Empire’s attack, but as he followed the Quermian through the safehouse there was something that felt…off to the Jedi Master about this place; like a strange ebb in the current of the Force that he couldn’t quite put his finger on. Perhaps he was simply being paranoid, but after Dyra’s warning he would certainly remain vigilant.

Once they reached the main room and the group of hooded figures began to disperse and bowed to the newly arrived Jedi, Martius politely bowed his head in return; watching them closely to see if they made any aggressive movements in the process but ensuring to maintain proper decorum if they proved to be friendly. When at last the final figure turned to face the group, it was quickly clear even before her introduction from her appearance and bearing that they had found a fellow Jedi. As she was introduced as Master Nileth Ag’derrod, Martius felt an immediate sense of relief wash over him; her existence meant that not all Jedi responded to his Force call, which meant they were not the last survivors and that there may yet be other Jedi still out there. When she proceeded to ask about Bogden, Martius unfortunately had no answers to provide, but Jace stepped forward and after a nod to Martius which the Master returned, informed Master Ag’derrod what he knew.

Given that even Jace didn’t appeared to be particularly swayed by his attempt to reassure the Jedi about the fates of the Masters of the Bogden Chapter House, Martius felt it best to change the subject and so stepped forward and after gently patting Jace on the shoulder stated: “If nothing else, meeting each other today has shown us that we are not alone, and there may yet be other survivors. But the rest of us should introduce ourselves: I am Master Martius Shan of the Council of First Knowledge.” Pointing to each of the Jedi with him in turn, he continued: “With me are Master Nardrashtasch, Knights Vrudun Tumara and Afon Ekker, and Padawans Tuka Tisrygian and Rhys Aatahl. It is a pleasure to make your acquaintance.” With the introductions complete, he bowed politely to his fellow Master before continuing: “I apologize if we interrupted a lesson with your students. If you have some time however, I believe a few of us have some questions for you; Thaumiel’s message to us was abit…cryptic.”

Nileth was silent a moment, as if trying to take all of the new information in. So many of them... but they were all force-sensitive, she could feel it. Exactly what she needed to tip the scales in the Blue Harvest's favor. "Thaumiel tends to be.... vague, yes. It's one of our ways of staying safe. The less we share, the better we stay hidden." She was quiet again, glancing between all of the Jedi. Her eyes lingered on Padawan Rhys Aatahl, the Miraluka. His kind, she had never seen. But she had heard of their natural abilities, their gift of Force Sight- something that could either win her the war outright, or ruin everything she had built. This one, she would have to watch. "Ask what you want, Master Shan. I'll answer to the best of my knowledge."

Master Nardrashtasch was the first to step forward. He remained staunch in his boding posture, though the soreness continued to bite away at him. He pushed his way past his Padawan, Tuka followed by Afon and Vrudun and lastly Jace. The wookiee master gave no familiar nod to Master Shan as Jace did. Rather than waste time on satisfying a custom that really only applied to lower ranked Knights and Padawans, he'd ask this Master Nileth the first question on his mind.

"Do you speak Shyriiwook, Master Ag'derrod?" Nard growled through his native tongue, hoping that she'd confirm rather than be forced to work through a third party.

"I understand enough of it to get by- you won't need to be shadowed by a translator droid here," Nileth answered. Understanding alien languages was of vital importance on Mek-Sha- many of the beings living on it didn't speak a word of Basic.

Master Nardrashtasch nodded at the familiar tone and proper patterns of her voice as she replicated the language of Kashyyyk. It pleased the Wookiee and so he would continue with his questions. "Good. It is good to meet more of our kind, especially one as practiced as you, Master. But I must ask. How did a Jedi Master, three months since the passing of the formal destruction of our Order proper, establish such a..." He halted his sentence and looked around, noting the atmosphere and the sight of the hooded figures just prior to meeting the Jedi Master. "informed and secretive refuge? Without drawing attention from the Hutts? The Empire? And did you not hear Master Shan's call? Did you simply ignore it or was it's power not strong enough to reach you?" Master Nard said.

"We keep out of the Hutts' view when possible. Stick to disrupting them in small ways when possible. Our seers know when they're getting too close to us, and by the time they arrive, we've already moved," Nileth explained. "As for Master Shan's call... It couldn't find me. Maybe I did feel it, but... I lost my way for a time, after the fall of the Bogden temple."

Master Nard remained quiet for a time, processing what he'd heard from Master Nileth. "So you came from the Bogden Temple? You mentioned Masters Pongo and Sei. Why were you not there when the clones came for them? I apologize for my rather blunt questions, Master, but....you'd understand if you knew what we've all been through recently." Said Master Nardrashtasch with a hint of remorse in his voice but kept the stern and demanding tone.

"I was there when the clones came. And I saw what they did. If you'd seen what they did, you would've fled. Pongo and Sei tried to make it out. I never found out if they did."

And how is it that you survived and escaped? Did you abandon them? How many others escaped from Bogden, Master?" Nard continued his barrage of questions. With every question, Nardrashtasch seemed to grow more and more concerned with just how Master Nileth managed to survive such a harsh and thorough betrayal by the clone troopers.

Martius listened closely as Master Nardrashtasch asked his questions and cautiously eyed Master Ag’derrod as she provided her answers. He didn’t get the sense that the Master was being deceitful with her answers, but at the same time he didn’t feel she was giving them the whole truth either. However, her reticence to answer was understandable; many Jedi did things they weren’t proud of to survive that dark day, and he couldn’t blame anyone for not wanting to go into detail about such terrible events in front of a sizeable group of people they’d only just met.

As the questions grew more heated and the conversation became palpably tense, Martius was concerned they were bordering on breaching decorum and so reached up and gently placed a hand behind one of Nard’s shoulders stating: “Perhaps that’s enough questions for the moment my friend.” Looking to Nileth, he stated: “If you have any available space, I’m sure we would all appreciate a chance to rest a little; the last few days have been…trying to say the least, and safe harbors are in very short supply.” Looking back to Nard for a moment before returning his gaze to Nileth, he continued: “And if you have any time to spare tonight, perhaps the three of us could discuss matters further. I would be interested to learn more of your 'Blue Harvest' and I'm sure you have questions you'd like to ask us as well...”

Master Shan's hand upon his shoulder released Nardrashtasch from his angered gaze and he immediately understood how his questions and tone could be portrayed as angry, aggressive, and everything Jedi worked hard to avoid: allowing emotions to cloud judgement. With a deep sigh, Master Nardrashtasch stepped back and looked towards Master Shan, nodding an understanding gesture. "My apologies, Master Ag'derrod. It has....indeed been a trying time for us all. The clones, the Inquisitors, our temple. We've endured much and suffered more." Said Nard, obeying the hints of Martius and falling back.

Vrudun Tumara had remained quiet during this transaction between masters, though he could feel the stress and tension in the air between the Odessen group and the Mek-Sha group. Master Nardrashtasch, though his emotions could be understood as simply releasing stress from such a trying and devastating time, it was still unlike the way of the Jedi. Even in these harsh and trying times, followers of the Light Side needed to uphold the values of their Code. There is no emotion, there is peace.

From one of Vrudun's many pockets, he could feel his communicator vibrating, most likely flashing, as well. He quickly reached within and silenced the device, ensuring that attention would remain away from him and towards Masters Martius, Nardrashtasch, and Ag'derrod.

The tension in the air had built as Nard continued his questioning, bordering on an interrogation. But, with Martius' interference, the tension seemed to fade. "You have suffered, all of you. All I hope for is to change that. The Blue Harvest will be open to all of you, for as long as you wish to stay with us-" Nileth paused a moment, just barely catching the sound of Vrudun's holocomm buzzing. The Zabrak Jedi was quick to silence it, but... who? Nileth had sensed no force presences other than those who now faced her. She pondered deeply, wondering if the Jedi were in contact with outsiders. "...I would just ask that you keep our existence here secret. Too many non-Jedi would turn us all in to the Empire."

Rhys likewise had kept marginally quiet during the exchange, though that was more out of respect for their seniority than anything else. Part of him wanted to somehow intervene in his own way. Perhaps advise Master Nard to conserve his energy due to his still aching injuries. In the end, however, Master Shan had stepped in to ease the tension.

Though as he returned to looking with faint awe at this hovel they had managed to set up in the depths of a seemingly crime-invested city of a station, a new distraction jostled him from his idle thoughts - Vrudun's communicator. With the lot of them now here, it obviously left one person left that could have been trying to get ahold of him. He recalled both himself and Beli thoroughly sealing off and securing the Vigil before departing with Master Nard, so as to keep anything out of the ordinary from happening while they were gone. Hopefully nothing was wrong...

"Master Vrudun?" he asked in a hush, as to not interrupt the Masters' discussion. "Is everything alright back at the ship?"

Vrudun could feel eyes staring at him from both directions. His eyes darted away from Master Ag'derrod, whom he saw vigilantly eyeing him after the faint sounds of the communicator seemed to have reached her ear. He nodded slightly at the nonchalant warning she gave him and slowly turned his head to Rhys after his inquisitive question. "I'll find out after this....I'm sure everything is fine. Admiral Tane's nearby. If something's wrong, we'd know from Afon." Whispered Vrudun.

As Master Ag’derrod offered to open the Blue Harvest to them Martius nodded his head, though her offer was briefly interrupted by chirping from Vrudun’s communicator. He looked over to Vrudun briefly, concerned that it might be a distress call from one of their allies, but as Vrudun silenced the device he trusted the matter was not urgent. Looking back to Nileth, Martius did notice that the Master seemed somewhat perturbed by the noise, as was further evidenced by her subsequent request that they keep the Blue Harvest’s location secret from any non-Jedi.

After everything she must’ve been through over the last few months her caution was understandable, though after all their non-Jedi allies had done to help them he had no doubts that he could trust them. Still, he didn’t want to risk raising tensions once again just yet and so would address the issue the next time he spoke with Nileth. Besides, he still wasn’t entirely certain how much he could trust her yet and was in no rush to lay all his cards on the table.

“Very well” Martius replied “Thank you for your hospitality, Master Ag’derrod.” Martius politely bowed his head to the fellow Master before turning to the others and stating: “Everyone, please feel free to get some rest, meditate, or scout the station today as you like today, though do be careful if you choose to do the latter; as Master Ag’derrod said, there are no shortage of people on this station who would be only too happy to sell information about Jedi to the Empire. Tomorrow I would like to reconvene for training; now that we have a better understanding of our enemy, I feel it would be prudent to discuss the foes we encountered to better prepare each other, and our new compatriots if they wish, on how to resist them in the event we should encounter them again.”

Looking to each of the different Jedi under his care, he continued: “Before you go, I would also like to take this moment to say how proud I am of all of you. We faced a far greater challenge than I ever anticipated on Odessen, but all of you rose to the occasion and far exceeded my expectations. Through teamwork, skill, and trust in the Force, you all overcame impossible odds to survive, and I am honored to count each of you as students, colleagues, and friends. As we move forward, remember as well those who made the ultimate sacrifice to ensure our survival and continue to honor them and their memories through your actions. Thank you all, rest well, and may the Force be with you.”

[The Imperial Republic]

The Inquisitor's Bounty

Co-Post with Uyuti

---

Kalixinos was perched upon a cliff's edge, the Moraband sun beating down upon him. Yet his skin began to become pallid and his once bright golden eyes started to turn a terrible blood red, Xaliphagus's influence had already taken toll upon him. Kalixinos's mind too had also been effected, with the whispering of the ancient Sith Lord being a constant now, both when he was conscious and unconscious. Indeed, Kalixinos could barely tell if he was awake or in a dream at any given moment, it was devastating on his psyche. He had begun to question if was Kalixinos anymore, if he really was Xaliphagus's slave.

A sudden very sharp sound penetrated Kalixinos's fugue, making the Kaleesh tense up, his grip on his lightsaber tightening. It was the sound of starcraft landing.
He quickly directed his attention to it, his head snapping toward the direction of the sound.

From his vintage point he could see a ship lighting down nearby his own, the one he had stolen from Mek-Sha.

"Hutts," Kalixinos said to himself, the word nearly a whisper. He would tear them apart, how dare anyone track him or attempt to take what was now rightly his. He had killed for it, it was his property.
The former Inquisitor jumped down from his position and began the hike down the cliffs toward the intruders.

He would make them pay for disturbing his solitude.

The ride to Moraband was quiet for Feo and Jaxh, but the time taken to get there was used wisely by both Mukoe and Ven. Neither the Zabrak nor Mandalorian encountered force-users in the past, but Ven had a bit of an edge considering he grew up listening to stories about revered Jedi Knights and their swords of glowing plasma that could cut through anything. Not only that, but he heard of ways the Jedi could tear apart their enemies with just their hands. They wouldn't even need to touch them to do it. They could stop blaster bolts and render equipment useless. They were not to be trifled with and considering how this one successfully abandoned his post, he was one that wouldn't be easy to capture. Together, the two formulated plans of attack, retreat options and methods of sabotage.

They'd entered Moraband's orbit without any resistance, sighting only one other vessel and no other forms of technology on orbit or on land. The planet was dead and no-one cared. A perfect place for a hiding Force-user. The Mandalorian Gauntlet transport slowly approached the stolen Allanar N-3 Light Transport from Mek-Sha, deploying it's landing gears and maneuvering it's wings into a vertical position. "Get to the ramp!" Shouted Mukoe as the door to the hallway beyond the cockpit opened. Ven began powering down non-essential systems as well as propulsion. Ven Ordo sighed and shook his head, attempting to push off the shaky feelings of adrenaline beginning to move through him. He pushed on his helmet, slapped the side, and closely followed Mukoe as they began their descent down the ramp. "Weapons out!" Yelled Mukoe as she brought her L60 blaster rifle to her hands, as did the others. Ven had his GALAAR-15 rifle into his hands already as his helmet's macro-binocular began to zoom, scanning the terrain directly ahead, and easily seeing a figure walking towards them.

"Target sighted." Ven said, drawing the attention of the other bounty hunters. As discussed, Mukoe would speak to him.

Suicidal charges into the enemy with no exit strategy where a part of Kalixinos's blood, and with Xaliphagus influencing his every thought, it was amplified.

Kalixinos strode out from the rockface, his lightsaber already ignited. He stopped before them, but chose not to speak. Instead he raised his left hand and a bolt of lightning struck out. The sullustan that the intruders had brought with them was the target, whom the electricity cooked alive.

Next he assaulted the non-helmeted human, throwing his lightsaber to attack. The red blade spun through the air as it eventually made contact, slicing the man's head clean off before returning to Kalixinos's palm.

With his initial assault over, Kalixinos took an aggressive semi-defensive stance but did not move forward. His lightsaber was close to his face, thus casting his white mask in red and blotting out the blue markings on it.

"You will tell me who sent you, so that I can kill them. I will not have the Hutts interfering in my business." Kalixinos said, demanding knowledge from the two intruders remaining alive.

None of the Hunters could have predicted how volatile the target would've become.They were given little knowledge on the capabilities of this force-wielder. They knew it was an Inquisitor, one that had abandoned the Empire. They'd figured it was scared, confused. They'd figured he was weak, unwilling to risk death after accomplishing a feat so rare, no stories were told of it. He'd escaped the Empire and now here he was, confronted by a contingent of well armed bounty hunters and no route of escape. They'd be sorely mistaken.

In flashes of purple, blue and red, Feo and Jaxh had been disposed of before any of them knew what had happened. Two hunters dead and this Inquisitor looked as if he'd barely moved, raising his hand for the electricity and his other arm jolted the saber from his possession as it made a quick circle, ending it's route back into his hands.

As Jaxh's head rolled right over to Mukoe's feet, her eyes were glued to it's face. His face was permanently locked in a stunned manner, it's mouth and eyes twitching as the last bit of life faded from him. Mukoe's old eyes panned back up to enemy and her body began to shake with fear. The ornate L60 blaster rifle shook in her hands as the Zabrak's mouth began to tremble. She wanted to speak, but fear stayed her tongue. She breathed heavily through her nose.

Ven, had his GALAAR-15 raised to the Force user and he remained deathly still. He was shocked by the manner and severity of the Inquisitor's opening volley that dispatched their heavier weapons. Ven's helmet had painted the target in red and opened up several methods of attack against the Inquisitor, including arming his Whistling Birds from his vambrace. Ven breathed heavily as he fought to suppress his most basic human instincts. He wanted to run, but fought to defend against the urge. Since Mukoe couldn't speak up, Ven did.

"We're from the Bounty Hunter's Guild of Nar Shaddaa. You've got a pretty price on your head, friend."

Kalixinos's eyes grew wild with hatred and anger, incensed at the Mandalorian's words.

"A price? I am not prey to be captured!" Kalixinos yelled, as he moved out of his defensive stance. The crazed Kaleesh quickly rushed forward, drawing his lightsaber in an upward slash, cutting the zabraak woman in half.

With the final intruder in sight, Kalixinos drew high, rising his red lightsaber into the air, jumping at the same time. Bringing the saber down toward the armored one.

In the eyes of the Zabrak was fear, golden and true. Her mouth dropped agape and her body froze, unable to move or even pull the trigger on her L60. A red glow appeared upon her face as the blade moved swiftly and easily through her flesh, burning the wounds closed as it moved on. Within seconds, Mukoe was divided, both sections of her body falling away in opposite directions. As Ven launched himself backwards as the Inquisitor closed the distance, all Ven could think in his head was how unprofitable this bounty was now.

Ven's eyes grew wide as he witnessed the Inquisitor jump at him, a look of ultimate anger and rage upon his face as he came at him. Instead of attempting to fire a shot from his rifle at the inbound darksider, Ven threw his body back, rolling his weight onto his heels. Activating his jetpack, he would have hoped it would have been enough to gain enough distance between him and the red blade. Sadly, it wasn't. Using his GALAAR-15 carbine as a sort of defense, he placed it out in front of him horizontally, the red blade slicing it clean in half and colliding with his armored chest. The force of the slash threw off his ascent and sent him colliding with the Inquisitor's shuttle, smashing his jetpack against the side of it. His body rebounded off, knocking the air out of him as he rolled forward. In a rush of adrenaline, Ven struggled to pull himself back up as he gasped for air, his helmet jarred a bit from the resting position upon his head.

"Alright, you bastard.....alright...." He managed to eek out through his wispy throat as he pulled the WESTAR-35 blaster pistols from his thigh holsters. Setting himself up on his right knee, Ven opened up with a heavy volley of golden bolts.

Kalixinos had raised his arm and closed his eyes to the hail of blaster fire that the Mandalorian had sent his way, but when he opened them again, he was unharmed. Kalixinos lowered his arm, and inspected himself, noting the lack of damage on his flesh.

The sith medallion must've done something to him, he thought, what power had the dark side granted him; and even if it hadn't, the Mandos's fire had done nothing but produced ash. Kalixinos felt invincible, but the feeling of pride and power quickly dissipated once he remembered the Intruder was still alive.

Kalixinos marched closer to the retreating Mandalorian, addressing him, "You defile me! In my master's day he would've slaughtered you where you stand for even looking upon his glory. But as his apprentice, I am not nearly as bloodthirsty, you will be forced to respect me!"

Kalixinos raised his left hand again, in the same way as he killed the sullustan before, vicious lightning shooting out at the armored man.

Under his helmet, Ven couldn't believe what he was witnessing. The bolts were making contact, yet weren't producing any desired effect. He looked down to his blasters, smacking them against his armored thighs in a show of absolute confusion. As he looked back up, he was shrouded in waves of powerful purple lightning, forcing his body to convulse, dropping his blaster pistols. Ven produced a shrill scream as the sheer amount of pain forced him to lock up.

Even as the lightning coated his armor, Ven clenched his right fist, clicking his wrist up and reactivating the Whistling Birds upon his forearm's vambrace. He looked up to the target, hoping his helmet would assist in tracking the direction of the Birds. Unfortunately, as the lightning stormed across him, his HUD was scrambled, flashes of scattered light where the data once was. Regardless, Ven had little more time to consider other options and released the explosive darts, emitting their familiar whistling sound as they danced across the area, many of them making their way to the Inquisitor.

Kalixinos braced himself as the hail of explosive darts came down upon him, the explosions happening all around him. When the smoke and dust cleared, the Kaleesh could note of the damage. He was bleeding, and there was a terrible ringing in his ears, but despite the explosives he had only taken some minor shrapnel. Hardly the killing blow the Mandalorian had been hoping for, but also disproving any sense of invulnerability Kalixinos had. But he would not let that strike go unpunished.

Kalixinos quickly ready his lightsaber and ran into charge, bringing him lightsaber down upon the Mandalorian as he closed the distance.

With the very well timed distraction of the Whistling Birds, the Lightning ceased, causing the Mandalorian to fall onto his back, his body's muscles on fire from the constant convulsing they had done. Even still, he witnessed the angrier Inquisitor approach him, his saber raised high over his head. Realizing that any further attempts at offensive maneuvers would be doomed to fail, Ven took the only avenue he could: an attempt to escape. As his helmet's HUD rebooted, he activated his jetpack, hoping it'd be enough to propel him away from the incoming slash.

Luckily it was as the jetpack sent him sliding quickly across the ground, halting it's slide closer to the Gauntlet transport. He turned over to his stomach and began to crawl. "Ah.....damn it." He said as he slowly stood from his prone position. He turned back, his helmet trained on the Inquisitor. "Alright......let's see how you like....this..." Ven's helmet's targeting system trained onto the red shade across the target's body as the Jetpack's rocket capability activated. Ven wasn't sure if it'd be enough to put him down, but he knew it'd buy him a few moments to board his ship and escape with his life. He had no other choice. 100,000 credits isn't worth it if he couldn't be alive to spend it. In a rush of light and smoke, the rocket propelled upwards right to the Inquisitor.

"Coward!" Kalixinos screamed at his fleeing foe.

Every refusal of the Mandalorian to submit or die further enraged the Kaleesh, his mind flooding with thoughts of choking the Intruder and bashing his enemy's head with a rock.

Kalixinos once again advanced, but stopped as he noticed the Mandalorian was preparing something and indeed the Mando was, as Kalixinos barely had time to react to the launch of the rocket. The Kaleesh braced his arms in an X as the explosive hit him, but as the smoke cleared, once again Kalixinos was unharmed. Truly miraculous.

Kalixinos began to laugh as he brought his arms down, a deep and powerful laugh, he hadn't felt this alive in years. He hadn't felt joy like this in nearly a decade, he felt amazing and strong. All this Mando had to throw at him, and it was nothing but a scratch. He felt confident and cocky, all the abuse Xaliphagus had rained down upon Kalixinos was worth it. If this was the true power of the Dark Side, then all of Kalixinos's suffering was truly for something: power and strength.

"All you have, Mando, and its nothing! Submit and I'll show MERCY! Don't and I will give you unending pain before you die!" Kalixinos yelled.

Ven Ordo had nothing left to give. His blasters, his explosives, his birds, all of it, all of it the arsenal of a proper Mandalorian warrior, was nothing in the face of the Inquisitor. Who was this? How could anyone wield so much power? How could one stand against conventional arms and remain untouched? Could there have been any power that could oppose him? Cutting down three bounty hunters like nothing. Ven had felt nothing like it before. On Mandalore, he felt passion, strength, to stand with such a powerful symbol as the Manda'lor. On Ordo, he felt defeat, anger, confusion. On Nar Shaddaa, he felt guilt and shame. At the Hunter's Guild headquarters, he felt a revived hope, he felt pride in putting himself to use again.

All of it fell to the wayside as he contemplated what he could do next. All he felt in this moment.....was fear. Under his Mandalorian helmet was fear, anxiety, adrenaline. Could he even board his vessel in time? Could he shut the ramp or even make it to the cockpit in time? Power up systems and engage the afterburner? Or would he be dragged out by his feet and put to a painful and dishonorable end? Would his ship be caught in the web of the invisible magic all Force users wield? Would his ship simply be crushed under it's weight? No.

Ven Ordo, his mind now firmly planted in a direction, reached behind him, pulling out a Beskad sword, forged from the burning lights of Ordo, made from pure beskar. As it was pulled from it's sheath, the sword rung a high-pitched and loud song. With his weaponry gone and his options running low, he was no longer in a position to resist. With his body weakened and his spirit broken with the threat of an agonizing death, Ven made his choice. He spun the blade and sent the tip into the dry and lifeless dirt as he fell to his right knee. He sighed and lowered his head, kneeling before his blade and in turn, the Mandalorian's blade knelt to him.

Kalixinos walked up upon the Mandalorian, his lightsaber still ignited, the red glow casted upon the Mando's armor.

"Today you saw the true might of a force user, one truly submersed in the Dark Side, and it is glorious. You were wise to surrender, slave." Kalixinos stated, "Soon we will leave, I have a friend I would very much like to present my progress to."

Kalixinos extinguished his lightsaber, but still firmly gripping the hilt in his palm. With his remaining free hand, he ripped the beskar blade from the dirt. Raising the blade high in the air, up to his eyes to admire the work and craftsmanship, as he spun on his heel and began to walk away.

"Begin preparing, we will leave soon, once I have gathered a few things." Kalixinos instructed, his voice gone of any anger or hatred, only pure disinterest.

Ven Ordo remained knelt upon the sand for a moment longer as his blade was taken away by the Inquisitor. His head still hung low, his fear now mingling with shame and dishonor. Why did he stop? Why did he let his fear force him to do such a thing? To surrender? He was no better than the fools that let Mandalore slide into Imperial occupation. Ven's fists trembled as they remained balled, but he'd fight no longer. He felt as if he was no longer in control. Ven rose slowly from his kneeling position and quickly turned back towards the Gauntlet. He walked aboard the ramp, slamming his fist into the red button that ordered the ramp to raise.

Through his fear and shame rose anger and despair. He unclenched his fists and in a single swift motion, grasped his helmet, raising it from his head and, with all of his strength, slung it across the ship, smacking into the door that led to the cockpit. As the helmet rolled across the ground, Ven stood silent. He wished for this one moment alone, to come to terms with what he was now a part of.

He extended his arm out, holding it there for a moment as his hand trembled. He shoved the button, the ramp beginning to lower once more as he'd begin preparing the ship for takeoff with it's newest passenger....

[Okayanos]

Acclamator-class Triumph

It was only when the automatic doors hissed shut that Dan realized how tightly his fists were clenched. He’d lied, when he had told Kedoa that he was going to meditate. He was incapable of letting his mind empty when anger, despair, and some ugly thing close to hatred were all buzzing about inside it.. Dan had been frustrated before, he thought he knew what anger was. But this feeling ran deeper. It made his hands curl into fists so tight that his knuckles hurt. It brought his heartbeat up to his head, where he could feel its pounding behind his eyes. But most of all, it brought the darkness back into him, that cold thing that wrapped itself around his core and whispered to him, telling him how pathetic he was for still trying to hold back.

The mental effort to not attack Kedoa in the hall had been monumental. Dan’s head still ached from it, and his arms were still tingling. This wasn’t something that he could quell, or simply wait out. The black pit inside of him reached upward, and Dan turned, punching the durasteel wall of his room as if it were the source of all of his rage. The Force responded to his anger, enhancing his strength beyond what it normally was. He punched the wall again, and it was dented. Dan struck again and again, until he was sure he would break his fist if he did again. But the anger was still in him. Dan raged and yelled, hating the Jedi on Odessen that had never cared for him or understood him, hating Brutus and the 411th for how they had betrayed everything they’d once stood for, hating the Inquisitorius for all they had done to him- but most of all, as always, he hated himself. Hated how impotent all of his anger was, hated how little he could change, how he had no place in the galaxy, and how useless he was, so useless that he was nothing. Worse than nothing.

Dan stood for a long time, shaking with anger. He felt tears falling. So pathetic, he thought. He could hear Kedoa’s mocking. He could feel Barriss’ cruel, teasing touch. And he could see Aragwen staring at him with blank eyes, even though every faint emotion rippling out from her said that she almost got it. Almost understood what it was he felt. Dan pulled his lightsaber from his belt, staring at the black and red hilt. It would be so simple. If he were to point it just right and switch it on- no. Dan caught himself before he fell onto that line of thinking. That would only let down everyone he’d known. Everyone he’d loved. The lightsaber fell to the ground with a clatter, and Dan found himself falling onto his bed. He laid down gingerly, as if he was afraid of breaking himself. “As if I could break any more.”

---

Within the Force

Nuvani Khir was unsure what exactly she was. She did know that she was a Cathar, and that she had been a Jedi for all her life. She also knew that her life was over, and that she was currently dead. Nuvani knew that some Jedi lingered beyond their end as spirits, luminous beings ascended beyond crude matter, but she’d never figured herself to be worthy. Her connection to the Force didn’t run deep enough, and her commitment to Jedi ideals wasn’t strong enough. But nonetheless, she still persisted. Some philosophers theorized that Force ghosts stayed in the mortal world because they had unfinished business- that they were still needed.

Even though she didn’t know what she was, Nuvani could tell that she was needed. Dan, her Dan, was suffering. The Dark Side had a hold on him, but he hadn’t fallen. Her former padawan (and so much more) had only lost his way. He lay on his bed, consumed by pain, anger, fear, and a hundred other things she couldn’t even sense. Nuvani didn’t have the strength of purpose to speak to him or manifest in a visible form, but she knew she had to do something nonetheless. Nuvani crept towards Dan, slowly, as if she could wake him. She put her hand on his chest. She felt Dan’s heart, still beating strong and defiant. His eyes fluttered open, and Nuvani knew that he could feel her. Dan’s hand covered hers, and their fingers laced together instinctively.

Nuvani crouched beside Dan’s bed, and leaned over him. Her form was faint, not visible to him. Nuvani pressed her forehead against Dan’s. He felt her fur against him and reached upward, as if he could wrap his arm around her body. But even as he felt for where her shoulders would be, there was only empty air. But when her fingers caressed through his hair, stroking soft and gentle, he knew she was there. Nuvani couldn’t speak to him still, but a gesture was worth a thousand words. ”You are loved, Dan,” she would’ve told him. She would’ve told him that this darkness wasn’t forever, and that even now, she was proud of him. She would’ve told him that he had the makings of greatness inside of him, no matter what the world made him think.

She had a feeling that he knew now anyways. Dan’s eyes closed, and sleep overtook him. Nuvani wished she could slip into his dreams. For now, she could only wish that they were pleasant.

[The Imperial Republic]

A Farewell

---

Once Master Shan had declared the short meeting between the masters done with, he dismissed the Jedi Knights to go about their business within Ag'derrod's Complex as well as Mek-Sha proper with appropriate precautions taken. Vrudun Tumara's first act upon being dismissed was to address who was calling him on his secured communicator's frequency. He turned towards Rhys Aatahl, his Padawan, and nodded in a respectful fashion before marching away from the group. Upon finding an area of somewhat decent seclusion, he reached into one of his many cargo pockets and retrieved the handheld device. Pressing a few tiny buttons upon it's miniature control array, it immediately made contact with who had attempted to reach him. "Vrudun..." Said the voice. It was familiar, a higher-pitched vocal vibration to it that hinted with somewhat of a drawl native to someone from a farming colony. It was Beli. The same Beli that had left Kijimi, that cold and lifeless rock, with him. The same that grew to become good friends with Vrudun. The same Beli that would embrace him on a stressful night aboard the Vigil during their stay on Odessen. The same that shared his bed many a night and who would grow to be the one person Vrudun would leave the Order for. "Beli?" Vrudun said inquisitively, trying to place the worry in her voice and what it might entail. "Is everything alright?" There was no reply. For a moment, the two remained in relatively uncomfortable silence before Beli finally replied. "You need to come to the ship." Vrudun's stress levels were beginning to rise as he quickly turned his head, ensuring that none were nearby listening in. He returned to the communicator. "Beli, are you in danger? Have you contacted Admiral Tane?" Beli barely allowed him to complete his line of questions before she interrupted him. "No, no, no, I'm not in danger...I need you here. Please?" She said, her voice transforming into one of painful submission. The Jedi Knight could sense it was one of confusion, shock, and...happiness?

As Vrudun realized that he needed to ask less questions and rather just obey what his love was telling him to do, he quickly changed his tone and nodded in agreement. "Of course, my love. I'll be there soon." He said, switching off the communicator as he finished the last bit of his sentence. He placed the communicator back into the same pocket he'd drawn it from and began making his way towards the exit. Vrudun's gaze didn't drift to any around him, nor did he have any slight concern for the other Jedi in the compound. For all he knew, they were safe and more than capable of defending themselves while he was gone. Under the protection of three Jedi Masters and several other Jedi Knights? What better safety could be guaranteed? Regardless, he exited the compound through the same entrance Shan's group had taken to enter and with little rambling about, the zabrak Jedi Knight entered the speeder he and Jace purchased and departed.

****

The ride back to one of Mek-Sha's many landing pads was an exhilarating display conducted by the Jedi. Swerving and dodging through the busy traffic lanes as Vrudun made his way towards the Vigil, nearly coming to his end by a heavy cargo transport. He only narrowly avoided it by sheer luck and through the will of the Force. It didn't faze him in the slightest. After hastily landing the vehicle next to the YT-1760 transport, Vrudun departed it and made his way around the rear of the transport ship. Slowly, it's rear ramp lowered as vents poured out steam and exhaust, the hydraulic lifts groaning as they completed the difficult process, showing just how old and worn down the ship was. The near-total cascade of failures caused by Lord Vader's strength in the Force would not be so easily repaired. Bolts broken, wires shredded and burnt, durasteel bulkheads warped from the heat buildup, multiple systems overloaded and refusing to re-initialize. It would be expensive to get her back to tip-top shape. None of it mattered in this moment as Vrudun walked up the ramp to see Beli, standing at the top with a look of fear and confusion upon her face. "Beli...what's wrong?" Vrudun said as Beli grasped ahold tightly of his arm and pulled him aboard, closing the ramp as soon as the zabrak was in reach. She didn't answer, only dragging him into the ship, towards their quarters. "Beli, please tell me what's wrong!" Said Vrudun. She waited to answer him until they were both secured within the room, closing shut the door behind them and latching onto him, her hands clawing at his back as they both embraced tightly. Vrudun, who had remained in a state of confusion and concern, pulled her back from him gently, looking down into her white eyes and caressed her cheek with his hand. "My darling, what's going on?" She grasped hold of his caressing hand and pressed her face deeper into it. "Vrudun....my love...." She said, almost in a whisper.

"I'm pregnant..."

Both stood in silence. The Zabrak's eyes grew wider and his mouth opened to allow more oxygen to flood his system as chills crept up his spine and his heart began to race. "Y-....y-you're sure, Beli?" He said. She nodded quickly, repeating what he needed to know. "I'm sure." Vrudun smiled as he continued brushing her cheek with his hand and quickly kissed her deeply. She pulled her head back and stuttered. "I....I feel like we should be....happier than this?" Beli said with a nervous chuckle. Vrudun reassured her. "Beli, I-I'm more happier than you could possibly imagine. This is....better than I deserve..." Vrudun managed to pull out of himself amid the shock of the declaration given to him by his significant other.

"You say that.....but...what of the others of your Order? Master Shan? Master Nard? You...you told me....this..." Beli said as she placed both of her hands upon her stomach. "w-was forbidden?"

"I don't care what they say about it. It's ours, Beli." Vrudun and Beli embraced once more, shrouded in the warm and plentiful layers of their love. For just a moment, the two forgot about their situation. For a moment, they lost themselves in the promise of a family. For a moment, the Empire, the Order, the Republic, the War, Mek-Sha, Master Ag'derrod, it all fell behind them. Collapsing to the ground like wet paper sculptures. Nothing else mattered, even if the moment was fleeting. "But you cannot stay here, Beli." The words cut through her like the sharpest blade. Her face morphed from one of peace and calm to concern and anger. "No. I'm staying with you, Vrudun."

"Beli, you cannot. It's dangerous here. Listen I know-"

"No, Vrudun. You don't. I'm staying by your side. This baby....what we have will be larger than just the Jedi or the Empire. I'm not gonna abandon you here." Beli said, pushing herself off of Vrudun as he tried to bring her back in. "Beli, that's ridiculous. Please, you must think of the child within you. What will happen if the Empire finds us? Do you truly believe they'll stop because we shook them from our tails once? I do not believe that neither this dark lord nor his minions will stop at Odessen. They will find us and when they do, they will show no mercy to those that helped the Jedi."

"We'll run, then. Just as we did on Odessen. We'll escape and find somewhere safe. Or..or we can run without the others, Vrudun." At this suggestion, Vrudun rubbed his forehead as he placed his other hand upon his hip. "You don't understand, Beli. I...you know I'd leave it all behind for you, you know that...but....I just can't do that here. Not with the Empire so close to us, Beli."

"Sounds like an excuse, Vrudun. How long do you plan to do this, huh? We found a good thing on Odessen, we found us, our love for each other. It wasn't about me saving your life on Kijimi, it was about falling for one another. You...you betrayed your Code for me..and now, now, when I tell you that we have a baby coming, you're wanting to shove me off? Stay with these people and most likely die for what? For what, Vrudun? A dead cause?"

"A dead cause? Is that all it is to you? On Odessen, we became more than just students under the Masters, we became a family. A family of survivors. You are just as much a part of that family. And all it is is a dead cause to you?" Said Vrudun, his expression beginning to change from confusion to disappointment and offense.

"And it was good while it lasted, Vrudun. We lost the Temple, we lost Inera, we lost Vaulik, we lost Dan. We barely managed to escape with our lives here. How long will it stay that way? You don't have enough warriors to take on the Empire! Everything you're doing is nothing more than delaying the inevitable! Just.....just come with me and live! Live for our daughter or our son! Be a father and a husband! Leave this all behind while you still can." Pleaded Beli. Vrudun remained staunch in his stance, lowering his head as if he'd been weighing the options of such an action. Who would miss him? Rhys? He'd find a new master, a better master. Perhaps one such as Afon, who fought valiantly at Odessen. Rhys would learn much under Afon. Beli moved closer to Vrudun, laying her hand on his chest and looking up at him. "We could leave now...we just go to the cockpit, fire up the engines and just leave. We'd go back to Kijimi, back to the homestead. We'd raise our child, Vrudun. Teach them to be a good person, to learn from our mistakes. They'd grow up with friends, attend school, grow to be the woman or man we've always wanted them to be."

For even just a moment, the appeal of such a life was better than anything the Jedi could have offered Vrudun. He could leave behind the Order, his lightsaber, everything. Be a father and carry on the Tumara bloodline. They'd stay far outside of the Empire's sight, lay low and live life instead of just simply surviving. In Vrudun's mind, he'd declare the Jedi Order dead and gone and leave the others to survive on their own. He'd never again use the Force, severing himself from it entirely and enter a life not as Jedi Knight Vrudun Tumara but just as Vrudun. The Zabrak placed his hands on Beli's arms and slowly pulled her away from him. "Beli...I love you. And I love our child. But I cannot abandon Master Shan, nor the others here. They need me. At least, I can't leave now. We've discovered another Jedi Master hiding here on Mek-Sha. If we can find someplace safe enough and isolated enough to lose the interest of the Empire, then....then I would. I would leave them in their safety to be the man you wish me to be. But for now, I must stay. Until then, you must leave. Take the Vigil. Take it home and wait for me there. I will come to you, Beli. I promise you." Beli did not respond immediately, only looking down in disappointment and defeat. "You won't. You make these empty promises, knowing that you won't survive, Vrudun. You're abandoning me." Was all she said as she walked away. "Beli, no, I....Beli!" though Vrudun pleaded for her to return, she would not. The door whooshed open and closed shut behind her. There Vrudun stood, alone. He stood there for many minutes as he contemplated the possibility once more. His answer remained unchanged.

Vrudun spent much of the time left on the Vigil packing up his and Rhys' packs with their robes and personal items while Beli remained in the cockpit, booting up the old vessel's power systems and preparing for takeoff, finally at peace with the decision Vrudun had made and knowing there was nothing she could do to change his mind. It was devastating for both and would leave lasting marks on their characters for the remainder of their lives, for how ever long they'd be. With their items removed from the ship, Vrudun approached Beli one last time, the door to the cockpit opening and revealing a solemn Arkanian sitting upon Vrudun's usual seat, the captain's chair. "Beli....I will find you on Kijimi."

"Of course, Vrudun." Said Beli in a soft and low tone. "I'll be waiting for you, but I'm living for something more, now. If you don't come for us, I'll do what's best for our child. My brother has a place for us on Coruscant. Should Kijimi get too cold for us, that's where we'll be."

Vrudun approached Beli, placing his hand on her shoulder, though it would be insufficient for Beli's last touch of her true love. She rose from the seat and placed herself swiftly into his arms, holding back painful tears of a broken heart. "Please come back to me..." whispered Beli, Vrudun returning the statement with a nod of his head as tears welled up into his eyes, closing them and sending several tumbling down his cheeks. "I will...."

****

Standing outside of the Vigil, Vrudun remained, packs full of gear and clothing set atop his back as he watched the ship idle, it's familiar blue glow of the engines growing brighter as the whirring grew louder and higher pitched. From within the cockpit, Beli stared down at him, tears in her eyes as she pressed her hand against the glass. Vrudun, wiping away his own tears for fear of Admiral Tane aboard the Last Resort seeing the emotion coming from one who supposedly didn't tolerate their emotions. With that last wordless goodbye set upon their minds, the Vigil began it's ascent from the landing bay, slowly rising up as steam vented through the undercarriage of the ship. The wind whipped Vrudun's loose cargo pants around as his eyes squinted at some of the old dust being kicked up from the pad. The ship turned away from Vrudun and with a soft hum and intensified glow from it's engines, the ship pulled away, angling it's nose upwards as it slowly departed Mek-Sha. Despite how far away it was growing, Vrudun never once took his eyes off of it. He would follow the ship until it became nothing more than a small grey spec against the endless oceans of space and stars that soon after would shoot forward and be lost amongst them. Beli and the Vigil were now gone and with it, Vrudun's legacy, his own flesh and blood. It left him with an incredibly empty feeling, something he hadn't experienced since leaving Metalorn, right after the clones of his division turned on him. He felt as if for the first time, he was now completely alone.

Vrudun turned and made his way to the Last Resort, the new home for him and Rhys. Admiral Tane lowered the ramp for him, inquiring as to why his ship had departed without him. Vrudun simply told her that "she no longer wanted to be here" and left it at that. He no longer answered her questions, despite the barrage of them from the former Republic officer and upon leaving their bags aboard, departed the ship and an irritated Admiral Tane and returned to his speeder. Sitting at the controls, the zabrak simply waited, staring down at the many knobs and levers in a state of loss. He released a heavy sigh and switched on the vehicle. He'd return to Ag'derrod's Compound and relay the news to the other Jedi.

[Anowa]

Mek-Sha
GSC [3.3.8.981]
Jedi Knight Xin Endoni

---

The shuttle ride was cramped, smelled, and was borderline agonizingly painful. A discount shuttle ride through Hutt space in of itself was a gamble between actually reaching your destination or being ferried straight to a slaver ship. Having to effectively stand the whole while was making her legs ache in a way she hadn't felt since Tattooine. Which coincidentally was where the woman was aiming to go, perhaps to hide out in the desert, maybe become a Tusken or something. Her goals once she got there would likely be figured out, well, when she got there. Except a gut feeling told her to book a trip to this station in the ass end of nowhere. maybe it was The Force, maybe it was her own mind finally snapping and giving in to the insanity that was creeping up on her like a cancer. She didn't know, but didn't particularly care, so long as she kept moving.

A noise sent her previously shaking hands into stone cold fists as her eyes darted to a man a few feet away. Months of isolation from any face she ever knew, sorted in to throngs of strangers whose allegiances she'd never properly know on planet after planet, and the looming knowledge that the Repu-... The Empire, was looking to kill her, and had likely put a bounty on her head, had blown out the woman's nerves. At first it was simply sleepless nights, but after a while it turned in to a full blown 24/7 fight or flight response. Staring at the man who had done nothing more than cough in to his hand, Xin still contemplated starting a massacre. For all she knew, that cough could've been some sort of signal to compatriots.

Her eyes began darting across the repurposed freighter, at every face she could see, she reached out with the force to start probing minds. A few pained expressions lanced up a few faces as the less than gentle state of Xin's mind made it evident. The looks of pain switched to confusion almost immediately after, some turned turned to looks of fear, likely fearing they'd contracted some form of brain affliction.

Xin's eyes struck upon a child, nay, a baby held in a Twi'leks arms, a hybrid if the mop of hair was anything to go by. The little one's eyes were locked with hers. For a moment she was out at ease by the dopey eyes of the child. But the primordial part of her brain very quickly pointed out that using a facsimile of a baby as some form of survellance device was ingenious, evil, but ingenious. In a profound sense of self awareness given her recent state of mind, the idea was squashed with a shake of her head.

The feeling of the craft settling in to a hangar rattled the ship, A few panicked cries called out, and Xin had to agree, this wreck was probably much overdo for a servicing. A few glances her direction, namely at her arm also worried her, in combination with the mass of people now effectively hoving their way forwards, the previously mentioned state of the ship, and no doubt a non marginal number of people looking to repossess her arm, Xin came to a simple conclusion: She needed to get the fuck off of this bucket.

Doing just that, she nearly toppled a few people over, and nearly stepped on an incredibly short near-human, taking care not to actually harm the man, but not pausing to apologise either.

She was among the first down the ramp, a combination of massive stride and hurried walking leading her away in due order. Her organic hand reached up to cover her face with the rags she'd scavenged from corpses on the last Hutt sprawl she was on. She looked more akin to some kind of street urchin rather than a Jedi, and that was the aim. She had long since ditched her Jedi robes for a more clandestine garb she's long since been adding to. As it was, she looked like a Tusken raider that had found civilisation. Her body shape was well obscured, were it not for her voice one would have difficulty telling. The only problem was she couldn't hide the two most obvious identifying features in the galaxy most likely: her height, in combination with a robot prosthetic which was a notably unique shade of dark metallic purple.

Just as it was before Xin got on the rust bucket she had just departed however, that gut feeling returned. She opted to look right, and across the rin some ways was a ship. Xin didn't know who owned it, why it was here, or even why it looked as expensive as it did. All she knew is that it wasn't local. For a moment, her mind became clear, it wasn't just a gut feeling, it was The Force, and it was telling her to get to that ship. There was no understanding why, but she sure as hell had to trust in it right now, because she had nothing else.

* * * *

It took nearly an hour of snaking through alleys, bazaars, and shady roads to get to the other dock. But once she got there, there was a moment of pure fear. Staring down the ship, she felt that someone was inside, but couldn't recognise them, her mind was too fried of the long nights and terror filled days to even begin that process. Approaching it she felt her anxiety begin to peak, for a brief instant she contemplated turning tail and running to Tattooine like she had planned.

But there was that gut feeling again, and she forged ahead, 20 meters, 15, 10, 5. Under the ship, nearly smacking her head in to it, she looked upwards and saw the ramp, bordered by the hazard lines indicating a shearing surface.

Xin stood stock still, her heart in her throat, and like a deer in the headlights, her survival instincts told her to get out, and were screaming at her with almost every fiber of her being. The gut feeling however was overwhelming the fear, the anxiety, the fatigue. It was telling her this was a good omen, being here at this ship, that her troubles would start to dissipate. The part of her that was steel and nerve told her not to stay, but the part of her that was faith and flesh, instead made her metallic arm rise.

And she knocked on the closed ramp.

[The Imperial Republic]

A Dark Reflection of Light Lost

---

It felt as if only a moment had passed. A fleeting second of relative peace and rest for the weary soul that granted only a brief glint of true sleep. But as Barriss Offee opened her eyes, she'd come to realize that time wouldn't matter in this place. No longer were there walls of grey and stale air produced by well worn oxygen scrubbers and recyclers of the hulking vessel the hunters of the Inquisitorius called home. As her sharp blue eyes darted around from the prone position she'd assumed during her short stay within the confines of her room, all upon her was naught but darkness and a gentle breeze from everywhere around her. The First Sister quickly rose from her spot, sitting upon the edge of the bed as her breathing began to pace faster, her eye movements becoming more rapid as she scanned a sightless gaze. "H-hello?!" She struggled to pull from her throat, the words echoing all around her in varying tones, ranging from a sluggish sound to a quickened tone. She leaned forward, raising herself from the bed, continuing to scan across the darkness. "Padawan...." the new voice echoed around Barriss, a voice that sounded of Master Luminara Unduli. Barriss' body jolted and she quickly turned around, her head darting to and fro in every direction. "Who's there?!" Yelled the First Sister in a commanding tone, the fear of her position now transforming into anger, a tactic well taught to her by the Grand Inquisitor in her initial trials.

"Padawan...." the same voice whispered into her ear, as if her former Master had been standing right behind her. In a burst of adrenaline and fury, the First Sister swung her right arm around, her fist balled and her elbow tensed and ready for an impact. Yet, it passed by harmlessly, nothing but that eerie breeze of omnipotent energy to catch the Darksider's strike. "Show yourself!" Screamed Barriss. Her anger was wearing thin as she continued her rampant search for whatever was causing this hallucination. "You're not alone, Barriss..." Again, the voice came from behind her and again she initiated that same brutal move. The darkness around her faded away and within an eye's blink, Barriss was standing alone amidst bright green trees, thick bushes and the elegant sounds of water rushing through channels around her. Above her was a familiar setting sun, it's orange blaze casting long shadows across the wild terrain. The First Sister could feel it's warmth gently caressing her face and as if by force, her feelings of anger drifted from her and in the familiar embrace of a long forgotten place, she felt as if she was home. As she gazed upon the room's beauty, she noticed small wooden bridges jutting out from the thick grass under and arching over small streams of crystal clear water, colorful rocks of every shape resting beneath it's forceful flow. She'd remembered where it all looked familiar from. She was within the ancient beauty of the Room of a Thousand Fountains back on Coruscant. Despite understanding that she'd only been dreaming, she smiled at the vividness of the dream and if even for the briefest of moments, she was whole again.

"Hello, Padawan.." Barriss' eyes shot wide as the voice came from behind her. With a quick spin, the First Sister was confronted by the source of the voice. The same voice she'd undergone many hours of training with and conducted several missions with. Luminara Unduli. "I'm not a Padawan any longer, Jedi." The words were something that Barriss had to force herself to say. She felt as if she didn't mean them but understood that by not saying such, she'd concede to being a traitor in the eyes of the Inquisitorius, her new masters. That small moment of calm and belonging turned to ash in her hands. The Mirialan Jedi Master smirked and nodded, as if to agree with her former padawan. "And so you believe, Barriss." There was not a single hint of malevolence or anger in the Jedi's voice as she took steps forward, calm and gentle against the grass beneath her feet. Barriss took a single step back as she watched the Master's hands, ensuring she wouldn't reach for a lightsaber. "T-that's close enough." Barriss said in a voice that lacked a form of authority or sternness. It was as if it was simply a request given by a sniveling girl rather than an order given by an Inquisitor. Master Unduli shook her head gently with a small smile upon her face. "No, Padawan." The Mirialan Master came close to Barriss, with a few feet. A space of silence enveloped the two as they stared one another down. Barriss maintained her look of anger and disgust, which was a polar opposite to Master Unduli's tranquil appearance. Luminara curled her eyebrows in a show of sadness, though the smile remained. "You're in so much pain, Barriss...unimaginable pain. I wish I could have helped you, I wish I hadn't been away from you. I know that I've failed you, apprentice. And for that, I'm eternally sorry.." Barriss had looked down during the Master's observation and subsequent apology and it only elicited a sharpened response. "And you believe I want your sorry? I should thank you. If it wasn't for your inability to be a good teacher, I'd have died along with most of your pathetic Order, your worthless friends and that miserable little thing, Yoda. I don't need you!" Barriss' voice was wracked in flushed emotions and she couldn't control any of them. She felt weak, exposed. It made her furious but she was also wholly laid bare for Unduli to see, to see the true Barriss Offee, the Fallen Padawan tortured and bent to the ways of the Dark Side. The true Barriss that nearly broke free under Master Shan's mere mention of her former self, a self riddled with guilt, sadness, shame, and heart-wrenching despair.

With a single hand delivered outwards from Unduli, it touched her cheek, setting her palm against it. Barriss looked at her in shock as she hadn't considered an outcome of such a burst of hateful and poisonous words. Almost as if a dam had broken, a wave of buried emotions rose from under the burnt ash of her former self. She couldn't control them further. The First Sister's chin quivered as her breathing became quickened once more as tears began to form under her irises. Her mouth cracked open with sighs of utter emotional exhaustion that mounted during her cruel training and the constant barrage of self-doubt and shame. Barriss' body began to shake and she could no longer maintain the First Sister. With both of her arms, she reached out to embrace her former master. Just as she tried, Master Unduli vanished, sending Barriss to the ground, her hands now planted into the grass as her knees slammed into the dirt. One by one, tears flowed from the broken Mirialan as she sniveled upon the grass. She clenched her hands, tearing at the blades and taking them within her white-knuckled grasp.

"Inquisitor." The low and menacing mechanical voice from behind her sent shivers down Barriss' spine as her eyes went wide, her breathing becoming light and raspy. Her red and glossy eyes slowly moved to the right, almost as if she refused to acknowledge what was standing behind her. "Rise, Inquisitor.". Barriss gulped as fear gripped her and slowly, she rose from her position of submission standing amongst the colorful vigils around her of the Room. She took a deep breath and within a single fluid movement, she spun around. In the same way this room had come to exist in front of her, so did the blazing fires of orange and red, dancing across the formerly peaceful gardens around her. The trees and grass had become charred remains that fire still continued to grind away. A dozen feet away from her stood a menacing Lord Vader as the fire surrounded him, engulfing him though he felt no pain nor acknowledge the blaze. Rather, he simply stood with his lightsaber ignited down at his waist, the blade pointing down and casting an eerie glow of red in the small area it was closest to. "Allow me to show you what you have helped create, Inquisitor." With his free hand, Vader lifted Barriss swiftly into the air, high above the burning trees of the Room. She was jolted forward, flying out of the room through a pair of wooden doors set aflame, the symbols of the Jedi Order cast in a burning and smoldering appearance as she was cast through them. She had been brought to the Main Hall of the Temple to see a flurry of blaster bolts smashing against the massive limestone pillars adorning both sides. Beneath her as she floated was dozens of Jedi slamming into an endless mass of clone troopers and within it stood a single red blade, owned by the Dark Lord of the Sith himself. She watched as the brilliant glow of Jedi lightsabers were extinguished one by one, screams of countless voices filled her head as she instinctively placed her hands over them, failing to understand the importance of the voices.

Thrust through the Temple once more, she came to a stop just outside of the Spire belonging to the Jedi High Council. Through the glass dome, she could see a red blade cutting through younglings, their voices screaming out for help as they were slaughtered. Barriss shook her head in disbelief, unable to comprehend what was happening. He continued to cut through them with ease and without remorse. Again, she jolted forward once more, though this time she was just outside of a detention cell, it's familiar grey walls indicative of a Republic vessel. Just in front of her was a door that led into a cell and upon her notice of it, it slid open, revealing Master Luminara Unduli sitting upon a typical slab that passed for bedding. She no longer possessed that stoic look of a proper Jedi Master. Now, she was dirty, ripped, torn, fatigued. She looked to have been crying for hours, evidenced by the bags under her eyes and the look of absolute defeat. "M-master...." Barriss muttered out, almost as if it was uncontrolled. Master Unduli looked up from the floor, her left eye red and swollen. Barriss wanted so desperately to reach out to her, help her up and out. And yet, she was unable to move, trapped within Vader's grip, his mechanical breathing ever present behind her. From the far side of the door, previously hidden was the Grand Inquisitor, deactivated lightsaber within his hand and a wicked smile upon his face. "Anger....breeds....strength." The Grand Inquisitor spoke in a demented and twisted tone just before placing the blade emitter gently against Master Luminara's chest. All the First Sister could do was shake her head, silently pleading for it not to be so. It did nothing to help her former Master. Padawan.... Luminara spoke through bloodied teeth. "I've failed you..."

The Grand Inquisitor's blade ignited, the sounds of it's cruel humming mixed with the noise of its plasma blade punching through the Mirialan Jedi's chest. Luminara's face turned to horror as she reached out to Barriss, hoping for some kind of response, as if she didn't know Vader was standing just behind her, his grip forcing her to remain locked in a straightened position. With the First Sister's face locked in a state of horror, they were returned to the burning room, Vader now standing in front of her, his evil masked face staring up at Barriss. "You've served us well, Inquisitor." Emerging from shadows within the flame behind Vader stood every Inquisitor she knew now. Draay, Kedoa, Dan, and Aragwen. With each came a pair of menacing yellow eyes, staring right through her, their blades ignited. "No...." Barriss whispered as anger began to build up within her. "What did you say? replied Lord Vader, his hold upon her tightening. The First Sister's fists began to shake and within a moment, she released a massive scream, sending waves of pure Force energy across the room, extinguishing the fires around her, leaving only darkness and the glowing blade of Vader's lightsaber ahead of her. She fell to the ground, released by Vader as he groaned loudly at the sound, gripping the side of his helmet. She looked up from her kneeling position and with a burning hatred, reached out with her arms on both sides of her, hands open. Summoned through the darkness were her two lightsabers, the hilts gifted to her. She ignited her crimson blades and dashed towards Lord Vader. "I'll kill you!" She shrieked as she raised her lightsabers high, bringing them down upon Vader's waiting lightsaber. "Good. Hate makes you stronger." Vader said as he held fast against Barriss' overhead strike. Barriss screamed and twirled, striking at Vader over and over again, forcing Vader to remain on the defensive. With each attack, Barriss loosed a shriek, placing within each strike a powerful fury fueled by the Dark Side. Lord Vader was now steadily walking backwards as Barriss continued with a heavy offensive. She would lunge, then follow through with an overhead strike. Before she could put her other lightsaber into action with a strong stab, Lord Vader kicked her away, his mechanical leg offering a much stronger impact that sent her rolling away from him. Landing neatly upon her feet, the First Sister placed her palms up and opened them. Slowly the blades lifted from her hands, floating just above them. Through gritted teeth, Barriss cursed Vader and promised revenge for the death of Luminara Unduli. With a forward thrust of her hands, the two lightsabers flung forward at Vader, their ends pointed right at Vader's jagged helmet. With a raised hand, Vader halted the blades progress and they simply hovered there, the blades only a few inches from meeting with Vader and ending him. Both Barriss and Vader held their hands there, both pushing against the lightsabers with the Force, the hilts beginning to shake from the immense amount of stress. Barriss groaned loudly as she closed her eyes, attempting to focus all of her energy and power into pushing the plasma blades deep into Vader's mask, though Vader seemed much more composed as he lifted his other hand to assist in defending against them.

After the shaking of the lightsabers became an almost vibrating appearance, cracks formed throughout the chrome and black hilts, flashes of red seeping through as the Mirialan released a blood curdling scream. Unable to take the pressure further, Barriss's lightsaber hilts imploded, the kyber crystals within releasing a myriad of bright colors as they exploded, sending both Barriss and Vader backwards. Barriss Offee came to a stop on her feet as darkness shrouded her once more, the only light cast by Vader's red blade flickering on the other side of the room that had once been the Room of a Thousand Fountains. Despite the loss of her lightsabers, Barriss remained staunch in her desire to slaughter this mechanical monster. Slowly, Vader began walking towards her. "Now, you will die, Inquisitor." Without an adequate weapon against Vader, Barriss used what she had left. Taking a deep breath, the First Sister poured her hate and anger and malice she had for Vader into her hands, igniting sparks of blue and purple. She slung her hands forward, arcs of lightning crashing against Vader's lightsaber and his body, forcing a pained yell from Vader, though continued moving forward. She continued sending wave after wave at the Dark Lord, hoping to bring him down. It proved ineffective as his slowed pace of walking returned to it's standard stride, despite the lightning dancing across his blackened suit. Barriss's anger had been replaced by fear soon after. With a swift horizontal swing of his blade, he broke Barriss' stream of lightning, forcing her to duck and roll away from him. She returned to her feet, though Vader was quick to catch up. "There is no escape." Said Lord Vader as he lifted his red blade for one more strike to end this failed Inquisitor. In a last desperate move to survive, she raised her right hand again, opening her hand. She closed her eyes, prepared to accept the fate she was about to be given. Until the sound of another lightsaber igniting stirred her from her acceptance. She opened her eyes to see a blue blade clashing against Vader's with a show of sparks. The new blade was her own within her own hand, a relic from a bygone time made new. It felt right within her hand, power filling her body as she pushed back against Vader's strike. "I'll always be with you, Padawan....even if you cannot see me....let my voice be a light in the darkness..." A voice whispered into her ear as Barriss used her free hand to Force push Vader away. She opened her other hand, reaching out with the Force and through the darkness came another lightsaber. The blade ignited as soon as her hands wrapped around it, sending forth a bright green blade belonging to Master Unduli.

Barriss looked toward Vader through the blue and green light. Vader continued breathing, though deactivated his lightsaber. With a few steps backwards, Lord Vader had vanished into the darkness surrounding them, leaving only Barriss Offee. For another long moment, Barriss admired the two blades before she closed her eyes, feeling a peace wash over her. When her eyes opened once more, the blue and green light had been replaced by the familiar red of her own lightsabers. Looking around, she noticed the darkness was gone and she'd been back in her own room aboard the Triumph. She was standing in the center of her room, the two curved hilts resting within her hands, the blades angled upwards in front of her face. The reality of her position rested upon her once more as she came to realize what she'd experienced was more than likely a dream but unlike any she'd ever experienced before. Though she was still the First Sister of the Inquisitorius and remained the Jedi hunter she'd been trained to be, she felt a sense of peace fall upon her if only for the moment as she deactivated her lightsabers. She let out a slow sigh and sat back down upon her bed to contemplate and process what she'd felt, heard and seen.

[Okayanos]

The Battle of Tiamat: Part 1

Three Months After Order 66

Dramatis Personae

Admiral Jeamarl Karnu, Imperial
Admiral San Rend, Former Separatist
Captain Decimus, Imperial
Cornelius Mors, Imperial Intelligence Agent
CT-6264 'Brutus', Purge Trooper
Captain Aliella Harmenix, Imperial
Jin-Roh Dokaan, Jedi Master

---

The holographic map of Tiamat appeared before them, zooming to a coastline, a fortress with weathered walls and antiqued Anti-Air Defenses nestled on an island separated from the coast by a narrow strait. "This is the most likely location of the Jedi. A Jedi stronghold, abandoned by the Republic after the defeat of the Sith Empire. The perfect hiding place for a Jedi pn the run from the Empire to hide." Captain Decimus said to Brutus as he pointed at the island, the holographic map zooming onto the fortress. "Your mission is simple: while the 112th and the 797th are engaging the Separatist's main force, you and your men will be heading to the island with Orion Squad. You will land on the beast and head up the cliffs. There is a cave that extends to under the courtyard. You will use it to bypass the defenses, as attempting to storm the walls with so few men is suicide. You will then head to the keep, eliminate any resistance you face and remove the Jedi from the board." Captain Decimus said to Brutus before turning his attention to Tacitus. "The demise of the Jedi is of the upmost importance. If Brutus fails to kill the Jedi or takes too long to complete the task, Orion Squad must not hesitate to take the shot. There is no room for glory seeking on this mission." Captain Decimus said to Tacitus.

Brutus glared at Captain Decimus. This man ordering around Brutus and his brothers. He had no right. He was not a clone, he did not share their face and yet here he was, pretending to be one of them. “I already received my orders from the Admiral, I know what we are doing.” Brutus said with audible malice. “And as for Orion squad, their presence isn’t needed. But if it was I can assure you anyone that shares my face will see the mission through flawlessly.”

Captain Brutus looked at Orion squad and motioned for them to follow him as he left the bridge for the hanger. The four commandos of Orion squad- Tacitus, Chief, Jax, and Gauze- gave a brief look toward Decimus, then promptly followed after the purge Captain.

“Do we really want to antagonize Decimus like that sir? He’s been fighting longer than we’ve been alive.” CT-4450 “Sabbath” commented, falling in step beside Brutus as they followed into the hanger bay.

“He doesn’t earn his men’s respect,” Brutus replied. “Just like Draay. When a leader that does shows up, that’s who the men follow,” He gave a meaningful look back at Orion Squad, as the four commandos tailed the purge troopers closely.

“A leader they follow out of choice instead of obligation,” Said Sabbath.

“Probably helps that we’re brothers,” Brutus continued. “No secret that the Empire’s planning to phase our kind out. We clones have to stick together.”

Sabbath nodded, he had been with the Captain for a while. He was one of the original 411th members, and even after all their time serving he was still amazed at Brutus’ ability to inspire other clones to follow him.

In Orbit Over Tiamat

“Star Destroyers, exiting hyperspace off starboard bow!” Came the announcement from one of the long-range scanner ships positioned around San Rend’s fleet. Right on cue, alerts lit up all about the Tumultuous’ bridge, bathing San and his bridge crew in an orange-red glow.

“Pull our scanning ships back and prepare the first wave of fighters for launch. Munitions, Load strike craft with anti-ship and ion ordnance. Helmsman, angle us fifteen degrees to the right, they’ll be coming out above us. Gunners, fire the first broadside as soon as they angle into the gravity well, and aim to cripple their ventral turbolasers.” Each of San’s commands was met with an ‘aye sir’ and a flurry of activity as orders were relayed. San had always wished that he could feel every little action that kept the Providence-class ship running, and with Jin-Roh’s Battle Meditation, his wish was coming true.

The Tumultuous’ sunlight engines fired, maneuvering all 1,000+ meters of her into a battle line alongside the Munificent and Recusant class ships accompanying her. Racks of Vulture Droids in her hangar swung into launching position, spewing the tiny droid fighters forth to join the mercenaries’ Z-95 Headhunters. Like sand flies surrounding a Krayt Dragon, the fighters circled ‘round the capital ships. The Republic’s star destroyers left hyperspace outside of his fighter’s range, to guarantee their own safety. But in doing so, they also left San’s fleet safe from their own fighter complement. They would begin their launch procedures only after angling into Tiamat’s gravity well, whereas San had his own fighters spaceborne by the time the Pubs had arrived. He’d let them send the first squadrons forth, and his own would meet them- and then destroy them.

San sat back into his commander’s chair, focusing on the holotable in front of him. It projected the positions of his fleet, of the enemies, and every fighter squadron under his command, droid and mercenary alike. From here, he would control the battlefield in real time. From here, he would take victory.

San was so certain of his impending triumph that he decided to indulge in a rare pleasure, and hailed the Republic ships on an open comms channel.
“Ah, the Chancellor’s lapdogs, right on schedule. I see you’ve finally taken notice of my little operation here on Tiamat. You’ll find no warm welcome or easy victory here. I offer you one chance to make the wise decision and retreat. Stay, and I will take it as hostile action and you will be destroyed. Fail to answer, and I will take it as hostile action, and you will be destroyed. Launch any starships, and I will take it as hostile action. And you will be destroyed. Reply within one standard minute, or your fates are sealed. Do not take me lightly.”

"San, you fucking traitor. Have you gone deaf? The droid armies have been deactivated. The Corporate Alliance has bent the knee to the Empire and sees you as a loose end. You have no authority here. Surrender and you and your men will be spared. Resist and you will go to your execution with your hands covered in the blood of the men you lead to pointless slaughter. You have an hour to respond." Decimus said to San before ending transmission, his voice filled with anger. "Looks like we no longer have the element of surprise. Prepare to depart." Captain Decimus said to Brutus as he motioned for the Clones to leave the bridge, the thinly-veiled anger in his voice indicating that he had little patience for the disrespect shown by the Purge Trooper. "You may be skilled in the art of hunting down and slaying Jedi, but these are my men, my brothers, my pod. Their lives matter to me. Yours does not." Tacitus said to Brutus in an uncaring tone as he pointed to the rest of Orion Squad.

Brutus whirled around in an instant and grabbed Tacitus with his metal arm, slamming the commando back against a wall. "I don't give a damn what you think about my life. You're part of the 411th now, which means everyone here is your pod. We're all brothers, and all of these men's lives matter to me. Like it or not, that includes you too." Brutus said, a cold anger creeping into his voice. His grip loosened, and Tacitus began to move- but Brutus slammed him to the wall again. "Treat all of these men with respect, or you're staying on this ship. That's an order." Only then did the Purge Captain release Tacitus and continue towards the hangar.

Once the Delieverance came out of hyperspace, Admiral Karnu and Captain Harmenix stood on the bridge together looking at the enemy fleet that was positioned over Tiamat. Karnu could tell that San was prepared for their arrival, the Admiral knew this wouldn't be an easy fight. Karnu had read reports on San Rend and if those reports were correct, Karnu would have to be careful and not underestimate the former Separatist Admiral. Karnu's thoughts were soon broken as he heard a comms officer speak up.

"Sir incoming communication from the enemy fleet." The Officer said.

"Patch it through." Karnu ordered.

The Officer quickly got to work and opened the communication to hear San's message. After listening to the message that San had said, Karnu decided to respond back.

"Ah San Rend, I heard many great things about you. If only we could've met under better circumstances, I'm afraid we can't leave this system. Your causing problems for the Empire and we're here to stay rather you like it or not. Tell your men to stand down and I will ensure that all of you are spared, and you can all go back to your families. I would like to resolve this conflict peacefully.... The Clone Wars are over it's time to enjoy the peace that we have and rebuild under the Empire." Karnu said before whispering into Aliella's ear to prepare the starfighters.

Aliella nodded and went over to an officer to get all clone pilots ready for take off in the hangers.

San grimaced at Decimus' words. His old subordinate who once had so much potential, reduced to a raging ingrate. As though their service during the Stark Hyperspace War meant nothing. Damn near broke his heart. But the second voice, that one was different. A more mature officer than Decimus, and from the confidence in their words, San could deduce that this was the true leader of the Empire's forces. The voice was unfamiliar, but the words were familiar.

"The feeling is mutual, Commander of the..." San glanced at his holotable, where the ID signature of the Venator had appeared. "...Deliverance. But I can't just give up yet. I left the Republic behind when they did nothing about the corruption in their government- and this Empire is just more of the same. I'm afraid I don't have it in me to capitulate to tyranny." He tapped at his holotable, directing the Vulture Droid squadrons to expand their patrol routes, while the human-piloted craft would stay beside the capital ships. With a Providence, two Munificents, and two Recusants, he had a numbers advantage against the Imperials, and also had the luxury of fighting a defensive battle. He could afford to wait for their ships to come to him.

"Sir, Vultures are heading right for us." One of the officers said to Captain Decimus, the Captain's face turning to a look of disappointment. "What are you waiting for? Power up our weapons and open fire once the droids are in range! We need to thin out their numbers before we deploy our fighters!" Captain Decimus said to the bridge crew as he clenched his Durasteel hand into a fist. (edited)

"I understand your fears, the Empire has brought great changes to the galaxy. It is understandable that citizens like you are concerned with this new galactic government, but rest assured that the Empire is nothing like the Republic. We wish to help planets rebuild from the ashes of the Clone Wars and have ever lasting peace." Karnu explained as he put his hands behind his back. "Why don't we keep talking like gentlemen and I'm sure we can end this peacefully. I will not open fire unless you shoot first."

San Rend chuckled at Karnu’s offer, sadly and quietly. A bridge officer attempted to get his attention on some matter or other, but San waved them off. The young man could make his own decision about whatever it was- and if San had taught him right, it would be a good one.

“Were it so easy, Captain of the Deliverance. If the Empire were run by men like you, there would be peace for all. But the Republic was not made for men like you, and this Empire sees little use for men like you. Were the Galaxy fair, we’d be side by side, in the same fleet. But as it is, you and I have been set as opposite sides of one coin. No matter how alike we might be, we’ll always face in opposite directions.” San believed that Jin-Roh’s poetry was getting to him. “But while we’re still speaking like gentlemen, I’d advise you to speak to the Captain of your Arquitens- he seemed to have a very different idea of diplomacy. Still hotheaded as ever, Decimus is.”

Karnu raised his eyebrow at the fact that San knew who Decimus was. The Admiral could tell that the two of them had a history with each other, but right now that didn't matter to Karnu. Right now Karnu needs to deal with with this situation before Decimus did something stupid.

"Decimus I order you to stand down and be silent... I'll do all the talking. Is that clear?" The Admiral asked over the open comms.

"I've already said all that I have to say to that traitor, Admiral." Decimus said to Karnu before turning his attention tot he bridge crew. "Divert power from weapons to shields and do not fire unless we're attacked or given the order to attack." Decimus said to the bridge crew, communications officers relaying the order.

The general quarters alarm sounded off. The pitch of the siren had jolted the operative awake, just in time as well, the dream was going somewhere Cornelius didn't like, back to Anaxes. The captain of the vessel was kind enough to give him a proper bunk in the officers' quarters, it was a blessing. Ever since Order 66, the clones had become more hostile, taking much more time for most to warm up, and those who did were normally outcasted in a way, it was no fair. Instead of donning on flash gear, as a normal sailor would, Cornelius slipped into his undersuit bodyglove, and then strapping and securing on his pieces of armor from an adjacent locker. When that was done, the pressed a few buttons on the wristpad, bringing the HUD and other systems online.

He opened a personal weapons locker, strapping on the right wrist ascension cable, and placing the jetpack on his back, they both linked up to the UI at the same time. As for what he would be bringing, they were killing Jedi. Originally he did not like the assignment, but to align themselves with rebels, there was less respect there. He took the NT-242, checking the scope, and then inserting a Tibana gas canister inside, it was live now. Cornelius also took the Westar M-5 as his secondary, placing it on a sling behind his back, and stuffing a DC-15s in his left holster, and the KD-30 Dissuader in the right. The magnetic clamp on his back secured the NT-242 so he could walk mostly unhindered.

Cornelius let his helmet hang from his belt for now, he had yet to meet this Commander Brutus, and he had to, he was going with them to provide cover for them. "A battalion's worth of clones, and they need me to cover them? Why?"

it took him no more than a few minutes to get to the hangar, the halls were mostly filled with runners going from place to place as the alarms kept blaring. But it did not take him too long to find the Commander, the Purge Troopers, twice as deadly, and infinitely more aggressive.

He waited for a moment, watching the clone pin a commando to the wall before releasing him. he steeled himself, he was about to get washed with choice insults, or ignored, for asking about the mission. Hopefully their friendliness would overcome their rage first.

Cornelius walked up to the lead figure. Stopping and then saluting the man. "Commander Brutus? I'm Captain Mors, Imperial Intelligence liaison and guest marksman. The files on the mission are lackluster, I was hoping I could be filled in further in depth about the situation, sir."

Brutus looked up at Cornelius. The Purge Captain's eyes narrowed from being addressed as a Commander. The loss on Odesson still irritated Brutus. Being punished for what he saw as the Inquisitor's failure made his blood boil.

“It’s Captain Brutus,” He said coldly. “You’re here to make sure no Separatists interrupt our work.” A smile slowly crept onto Brutus’ face- it was hidden by his respirator but his eyes betrayed his excitement. He looked back at Orion Squad, who had boarded the landing craft, having seemingly come to their senses.

Gesturing to the commandos, Brutus continued explaining. “You’ll be working with Orion squad this mission. They lack a sniper, so it’s your job to provide fire support.” At this point, Brutus finally looked the Agent up and down. The black and red armor took him back in time to when he’d trained his purge troopers on Kamino, teaching them to become the greatest Jedi hunters that the Empire could produce. Back then, he’d first heard a voice saying ‘Captain ZZ reporting for duty, sir.’ When he looked over, it was the man who had eventually become his second in command. A man who Brutus had come to respect, and a man who had given his life for the great purge. Once Brutus’ eyes came to Cornelius’ face, he was yanked back to the present and felt only hatred. He saw a ‘normal’ face, one that could’ve belonged to any galactic citizen that wasn’t grown in a tube to fight a war.

“What makes you think you’re worth that armor, Agent?” Brutus growled as he glared at Cornelius, organic and artificial fists both clenched.

Assigned to a commando squad. How odd. But it mattered little to Cornelius however, he was used to operating in small units, and at this point, with little knowledge on Purge Troopers, he was more than at ease to work in an environment with some familiarity.

What did catch him off guard however was that this commander had recently been demoted, as to why, the files had not allowed him access as of date. Instead of going to parade rest, Cornelius simply relaxed his stance and crossed his arms. But as usual, every time he moved from theatre to theatre, they questioned why he had the right to wear their armor. The basis wasn't even theirs to begin with. Putting a hand to the bridge of his nose, he sighed. It was all numb at this point, too automated like, as if the reactions were just a solution now.

"I saved your brothers in the Second Battle of Geonosis by killing local Geonosian commanders, experts of their land. I prevented mass clone casualties on Umbara by putting myself in the front, and pointing to the flyboys where and where not to drop ordinance."

Cornelius pointed to five strikes on his wristpad. "I lost five of my brothers and sisters on Anaxes so that your brothers wouldn't die to proton bombardment, and saved the cha- Emperor's life during the siege of Coruscant. If you want more, go requisition my CV."

Brutus stared at the Imperial Agent for a while, his words softening Brutus’ stare. Cornelius was a man who led his troops and looked out for them. The Empire seemed to lack these kinds of men. After a deep metallic breath Brutus said, “Lotta loyalty for an Imperial Agent, the 411th will be proud to serve with you. Orion squad is yours to command, use them well.”

Brutus backed off from Cornelius and pulled out his vibro knife, sharpening it, “The Jedi won’t be able to react to sniper fire and a Purge Trooper, if you see a shot, take it.”

"Thank you. I'll put them to good use." Cornelius replied back. just as he was about to turn to follow Orion squad, the clone with a respirator spoke again, something about taking the shot when the opportunity arises.

"I'll make sure to warn you folk when that round goes flying. If there's anything else, I'll see you planetside, chief." Cornelius made a gesture as he walked away.

Following Orion squad was a bit hard, considering how he only knew the general direction the commandos walked towards. But the remaining deck crew were kind enough, or tolerant enough to indulge him when he asked. The search was then narrowed down to a row of landing crafts. He had to check every craft, before finally finding four people in Katarn armor. They were busy amongst themselves, talking about something. Wrapping his hand into a fist, he knocked on the hull three times, getting their attention.

"You Orion?"

Cornelius put on a friendly face, even if it was fake and hollow, and pulled down a crash seat to sit on. "Captain Mors, your temporary squad lead. The de-facto CO of the 411th gave me command of this unit since you folks are lacking a marksman. Let's get acquainted properly before we go planetside." (edited)

I'm Tacitus. Chief is my second-In-Command. Experienced in the use of bladed weapons. He's a Kleptomaniac, so don't be surprised if we come back with a few extra blasters that are not standard issue. Jax is our demolitions expert. Never goes anywhere without his trophy, though he can still outfight most enemies in hand-to-hand. Gauze is our Medic. None of us would be here with him. And as you pointed out, we lack a dedicated sniper." Tacitus said to Mors as he pointed to the rest of his squad. "Tankbuster bought it on Arkania. Not much Gauze could do about a Vibroblade through the chest." Jax said to Mors in a mournful tone as he pulled down a crash seat and sat down, his pump-action Slugthrower in his hand.

Bridge of the Tumultuous

“Jin-Roh, order the men to start loading shuttles with as much Nova Crystal as they can, and begin evacuating,” San ordered. “This isn’t an operation worth dying for.”

”I will. May the Force be with you up there,” Came the gruff reply. San had to suppress a small chuckle at the irony- but, technically, the Force would be with him, via Jin-Roh’s battle meditation. San re-opened the comm channel to the Deliverance.

“Unfortunately, Commander, our pleasantries are going to have to come to an end. You do seem like a decent fellow, and I’d hate to kill you. But there’s only one way this confrontation can end. All I can offer is making the first move- it’ll look better in your mission report that way. Farewell, Commander of the Deliverance.” San nodded to a bridge officer, and a new directive was beamed to the neuroprocessors of the circling Vulture Droids. The spindly starfighters began to break off of their patrol patterns, flying en masse toward the Imperial ships like a swarm of gnats.

"The negotiations were short." Captain Decimus said before turning his attention back to the bridge crew. "Power up weapons, intensify forward firepower, and deploy the fighters! I don't want anything getting through!" Captain Decimus said to the bridge crew, the communications officers relaying the order.

Once the comms ended, it wasn't long before the alarms on the Delieverance sounded off throughout the ship. Clone Pilots were already in their starfighters and started flying out of the hanger as they began to engage the Vulture Droids. While this all happened, Karnu began thinking of ways to break San's fleet and the Admiral knew this wasn't going to be an easy fight. Still Karnu knew failure wasn't an option here, he would not allow another Odessan to happen again. Without the Inquisitors here to screw things up again, the Admiral knew that victory was in hand.

"All ships focus fire on those Munificent class ships and Recusant class ships! Tell the ground team they're clear to land on the planet!" The Admiral ordered as officers on deck began working hard as the Deliervance's turrets began to fire upon the Munificent and Recusant class ships.

"I also want you to maximize our shields as well! We need to hold out as long as we can." Karnu ordered as Aliella watched taking mental notes of how he commands his ship.

"Sir should we move in close?" One Officer asked.

"No, we shall remain positioned here! Any closer and our ship will get torn to pieces." Karnu ordered as he watched the battle unfold before his eyes.

After seeing the intensity of the battle going on, Karnu knew the ground team wouldn't be able to land without getting shot down.

"Order the ground team to stay on the ship! They can't leave until we broken the enemy's defense line!" The Admiral ordered.

"Orders received and understood, Admiral." Captain Decimus said to Admiral Karnu as he watched his fighters dogfighting with the Vultures. It had been a long time since the pilots had fought in a large scale space battle, the only enemies they've had to fight since the end of the Clone Wars being pirates and the occasional Separatist ship, the only Droid Fighters they faced being Scarabs. (edited)

The talks with Orion Squad were going incredibly well, despite initial hostilities. However there was no air of friendliness, only professionalism, and that was good enough. However, before Cornelius could go reach into a pouch filled with snacks, the atmospheric shields of the main Venator hangar popped on, one by one, and the alarm blared louder. Purge Troopers and other clone units began rushing towards gunships, whatever was not loaded in yet was hastily placed inside.

"We're going planetside! Mount up, Orion!" Cornelius said as he lead the commandos into one of the vacant LA/AT Gunships."

The selected craft was filled up immediately with other clones, hanging onto the overhead handrails. No sooner than five minutes, the entire craft was full, 36 souls on board. The doors slammed shut, and the oval openings closed shut as well as a red light blinked on, now being vacuum rated.

There was no telling what direction they were going, only relying on the jerking of the gunship as it left the hangar. Cornelius was not a religious man, but he was praying that their flight would be safe, and go off without any hitches. Unfortunately, the fighters out there thought otherwise. A red blaster bold tore through the gunship. The spinning was getting worse, but the pilot was skilled enough to fight it. But they were leaking oxygen. The HUD was advising that Cornelius start using the emergency O2 supply of his armor, but he let it keep blinking.

Cornelius pointed to the corner, yelling as loud as he could. "Hit the E-Vac Seal! It's the yellow lever in the corner there!"

A random clone reached for it in a confused manner, pulling the yellow handle. With a sharp hiss, the leak stopped, and the HUDs alarms stopped blaring, loudly at least. The emergency however was not over. One of the commandos of Orion was on the ground. Reaching for him, he shook the downed commando awake.

"Jax, pal! Get up! You stay down there you're gonna be turned into a ground meat!" Cornelius said as he helped him put his hands on the handrail. "Hold onto it, and hold hard!"

Through the vibrations on the hull, he knew that the gunship was now facing flak once more, and the gunship's weapons started firing back. To prove this, the gunship's vacuum seals opened, light streaming into the interior. From the initial looks of the field, there was minimum cover, or expected to have little to none. Opening the underbarrel grenade launcher of the Westar M-5, Cornelius loaded a smoke grenade, priming it as he pulled the tube back.

But as they landed, and the doors opened, what can only be assumed is a repeating blaster, a Z-6 using non-ionized tibana, or an E-Web opened up on them killing a few of the clones inside. Cornelius however was able to duck in time, as Orion squad stepped out, shields taking damage. Pulling the trigger, the smoke grenade flew out, impacting the ground and releasing a large cloud of white cover.

"Get some smokes out and regroup! We're too exposed!" Cornelius ordered as the clones around him, or some of them, threw smoke grenades, extending cover and allowing them to regroup and take a breath and moment to strategize.

"Shit! We crashed landed near an enemy bunker! We're gonna have to clear it out if we want to get out of here!" Tacitus shouted to everyone as Orion Squad got behind cover. "We'll have to flank that Repeater if we want to take out the gunner." Chief said to the rest of Orion Squad as the smokescreen began to disperse.

Brutus heard the order to get in gunships and drop. All troopers were rushing to get to their LAATs and Brutus was no exception. Sirens were blaring and troopers were yelling orders to each other, it was the organized chaos Brutus had grown accustomed to throughout his life of service.

Brutus slid his helmet on and went into his LAAT with Sabbath next to him. Brutus began to feel the same eagerness and joy from all of his Jedi hunting missions. He grabbed hold of the overhead handles with his robotic arm and bathed in anticipation.

After a few agonizingly long seconds a new order came in, wait to drop until the fighters broke through the defense. Brutus scowled under his helmet, he couldn’t be held up here, not when traitorous scum still drew breath so close to him. Brutus felt like a wild animal in a cage. He had to be free, he had to hunt. Moving to the cockpit he looked at the pilot, “We’re going mobile, take us in.”

“But sir, the Admiral said to wait.” The Pilot responded.

He was doing the right thing as a good soldier should but Brutus felt a need to start the battle. “Launch now.” Brutus snarled.

“Yes sir...” The PIlots voice trailed off at the end.

Brutus went back to where the rest of the troopers were held and grabbed on the overhandle yet again. The Commanders eagerness and lack of concern for safety backfired as soon as the LAAT went into the war zone. A bolt from one of the vulture droids slammed into the side of the gunship causing an oxygen leak and sending the LAAT down into a wild descent.

Brutus held on tight and was jostled around but his grip didn’t fail. The leak wasn’t a concern to Brutus as he needed a respirator to breath in the first place. The G-forces from spinning out of control were the real danger as many clones lost consciousness. The Captain fought to stay conscious himself, his vision darkened and he felt faint. Brutus snapped out of it when he heard Cornelius yelling at another clone to close the leak. He saw the agent quickly tend to his newly appointed squad.

Right before Brutus could aid the other men on the ground another shot ripped into the LAATs floor beneath Brutus. His harness became unlatched and he quickly snatched it out of the air, shoving it back in as the gunship entered the atmosphere.

There were a few more thuds on the hull, until the doors were opened. Blaster fire rained in and out as the gunship landed. The blaster bolts caused the LAAT to land violently and Brutus smashed his head into the side causing him to fall. Letting out a yell of pain Brutus pulled himself up to what can only be described as hell. Already many of their forces laid in pieces in the gunship, so many blue and red bolts filled the smoke filled air it looked like a lower level club on Coruscant.
Unholstering his DC-15A, Brutus contributed to the light show, unloading into the unknown, sending the occasional grenade from the under-barrel of his rifle. Brutus heard Orion squad come up with their plan to flank the bunker. “You two!” Brutus pointed at Jax and Tacitus, “You go around the right and you,” He pointed at the other two Clone Commandos, “Go around the left. Captain Mors and I will go up the middle with our remaining forces to draw fire!”

“-landed right in front of us, I cannae tell how many more comin’!” Yelled the unofficial commander of the renegade separatist forces around the bunker. He was a Duros, and like many of his organic comrades, he wore non-descript body armor in shades of grey and brown with the Separatist emblem painted on. His fellow mercs gathered in the bunker, manning the repeating guns on the structure and poking their heads out to fire blasters at any enemies they could see. The battle droids, skinny little things that looked like they could barely lift their blasters, marched forward, following whatever directive was currently being beamed to their neuroprocessors.

“Oi, you get out there too, ya great useless lump!” The Duros ordered as he strapped a helmet over his bulbous head. The being he yelled at was a familiar sight from the clone wars era- a Corporate Alliance Tank Droid.

The Tank Droid made a series of deep electronic sounds, as if it was grumbling about being woken from its ‘nap’. Nonetheless, the droid’s motors began to hum, and it slowly began trundling toward the beachhead and enemy landing ships, crimson photoreceptors scanning for hostile organics. It spotted a group of them gathered around a republic gunship, taking cover from the bunker’s repeating blasters. The droid trained its cannons on Orion Squad. It took only milliseconds for the tank droid’s targeting algorithms to be satisfied, and once they were, its cannons opened fire, spewing sunfire-red bolts of plasma at the landed clones.

Finding some relief behind the front end of a sandbag barrier, Cornelius had now only noticed the rest of the Purge Troopers in the vicinity. Either the gunship he rode down in had some of them, or their landings were near each other. It was no longer up for debate however, they needed to get out of this landing zone and start stripping down the defenses, or breakthrough to their objective.

Cornelius pushed back the tube, the spent grenade casing falling out, leaving a trail of smoke. Checking the utility belt, he pulled out a grenade round marked with a red line, high explosive, and loaded it into the tube, and just in time to.

“Go around the left. Captain Mors and I will go up the middle with our remaining forces to draw fire!”

As a marksman, he never favored a head on approach, his entire unit actually would abhor such a tactic, this one was more suiting for the likes of Sentinel unit, but they were killed earlier on in the transition to the Empire, and he was no stranger to a head on assault, he simply had preferences.

"Wait! Hold on!" Cornelius yelled, stopping Captain Brutus temporarily.

Lowering the rangefinder on his helmet via neural order, the numbers on the right side of his helmet began running as the laser calculated how far the bunker was. it was the source of the suppressive fire for the meantime. it needed to be permanently destroyed, or temporarily disabled if they wanted to get off of this killzone.

Cornelius moved his trigger finger forward to the firing mechanism of the underbarrel grenade launcher. "68 meters, 12 degree hill incline." He said silently.

His focus shifted however as large red bolts slammed nearby, showering them in debris. His eyes were brought towards a droid tank, slowly charging towards their position. The fire did not stop, but out of haste, Cornelius fired off the grenade too early. it impacted near the right track of the droid, not even breaking it.

Cornelius switched to the unit wide frequency quickly. "Someone get some AT on that slug or we really aren't getting off of this beach!"

Hearing Brutus's orders, Orion Squad split up and headed around the sides, moving as fast as their legs could carry them. a Tank Droid opening fire on their position. "Shit! We need to double time it or we're smoked like Nerfs in a Hutt's personal butcher shop!" Tactius shouted to the rest of Orion Squad as he and Jax moved between cover.

Brutus looked to Cornelius as he was stopped. Then after hearing shouts that were more panicked than usual the Captain looked up and saw a Tank Droid moving in. It already started destroying the cover some clones were behind. Brutus quickly dove down as a shot landed near him, launching up sand. “We need to get that thing to shoot at us to let Orion do their job!” Brutus shouted to Cornelius.

Admiral Karnu continued to oversee the battle, so far, the Deliverance hasn't been able to break through San's defenses and from the looks of it the starfighters haven't made any progress in dealing with the vulture droids. The Admiral knew that in order for this mission to succeed he would need to break through the enemy fleet, so the ground team will have a chance to land. However, that plan was going to change.

"Sir, it would seem that Brutus and the rest of Orion Squad have disobeyed orders and left the ship." Aliella said after speaking to one of the deck officers.

"What?" Karnu asked as he clenched his fist.

"And according to our scans they've crashed landed on Timat." Aliella explained knowing that Karnu was about to get angry.

"Open a comm link with Brutus! I need to have a talk with him right now." Karnu said.

Aliella nodded and turned towards one of the comm officers.

"You heard the Admiral, open a comm channel with Brutus." Aliella ordered.

The officer nodded and quickly opened a comm link to Brutus and the rest of Orion Squad.

"Brutus, you better have a damn good explanation on why you disobeyed my orders." Karnu angrily said.

Cornelius looked at Brutus in regards to his order. make the snail tank shoot at them? He supposed that as Purge Troopers, these men would not be carrying anti armor weapons, but no contingencies? Perhaps they should have a chat about it sometime after the whole ordeal.

"Alright. I have a plan." Cornelius loaded another grenade. "We just need some faith."

The rangefinder came down again, the numbers coming in. At this angle, the HEDP round would not make a penetrating shot, but it was bound to destroy something it needed. A few seconds later, with enough confidence, Cornelius pulled the trigger. The grenade sailed through the air smoothly this time, and hitting the right side of the snail tank. One of the two red photoreceptors turned black from the impact, and it started turning.

As an extra touch, he also poured blaster fire into the tank, just so that it really took the bait. "Get down!"

Brutus liked the agent's plan, but before he could send a grenade himself his comm went off. Ducking down behind cover he heard Admiral Karnu’s voice breakthrough. He wasn’t happy. “We weren’t useful sitting up there, the real battle is down here, my mission is down here!” Brutus shouted back. CT-6264 got unreasonably angry at the Admiral. Brutus couldn’t understand why. It was as if some part of his brain turned on and all CT-6264 could think was ‘good soldiers follow orders.’ The Admiral didn’t understand. This was the biggest order the clone could receive. And no one would get in his way. “I won’t be caged like an animal, Karnu!” CT-6264 then closed the call and stood up blindly shooting at the tank droid.

Once the comm ended, Karnu could only sigh in disappointment as he continued to watch the battle unfold.

"Does this happen often Admiral?" Aliella asked.

"You have no idea... This is one of the many downsides of being an Admiral, Captain Harmenix. Sometimes not everyone follows your orders." Karnu explained.

"If Brutus and his team are able to succeed in their mission. Then I will forgive him for disobeying orders."

Tacitus and Jax reached the door to the bunker, Jax setting a Detpack. Once Jax was done, he moved to the side, Tacitus following Suite. The Detpack exploded, the door being blown from its hinges. Jax tossed a flashbang into the bunker, Tacitus heading inside with Jax in tow and opening fire the second he heard the bang, taking down five Trandoshan mercenaries who had pointed their weapons at the door. An HK-B3 in Corporate Alliance colors pointed its weapon at the Republic Commandos, only for Jax to blow its circuits all over the floor. "Orion Squad on me!" Tacitus said to the rest of the Orion Squad over the comms as Jax fired a round into the chest of a Cathar, the hired gun lifelessly falling to the ground.

getting paid enough, he just wanted to be alive to spend his pay after all this crap was done. What remained of his men were on the same train of thought, god bless ‘em, as they ran away right along with him.

The tank droid warbled sadly as one side of its vision fizzled out- it turned itself toward the source of the shot as quickly as its tread would allow. The droid spotted its assailants (database recognized ARC trooper armor), and leveled its anti-personnel blasters at them, letting loose with a hail of laser fire. The bolts pinged against Brutus and Cornelius’ cover, forcing the two men down- and at this point, Orion Squad should have moved in to take the tank droid down. But Orion Squad had more immediate concerns.

Those more immediate concerns, in this case, were a formation of twin-bodied bombers- Hyena Droids- breaking into visibility range overhead. The Hyenas shared the same ‘brain’ as the Vulture Droids far above. And like the Vultures, they were unwavering in their commitment to whatever main directive had been given. In this case, bombing the beachhead to cover the mercenary forces’ retreat. The Hyenas screamed overhead, two coming down in a shallow dive- the first attack run. Like hailstones, the droids released lines of bombs along the beach. The bunker was the first thing to blow. The helm of Tacitus was the only piece of Orion Squad left, and it soared through the air in a high arc, trailing smoke, and landed in the sand near Brutus and Cornelius. The commando’s head might have still been inside.

Amidst the blaster fire, a lone Clone Commando helmet landed upon their side, bearing the markings of Orion Squad's leader, Tacitus. Pressing the green button on his wristpad, Cornelius saw that the IFF tags of Orion disappeared completely. Racking his mind as to why was answered soon enough with the flyby of enemy Hyena bombers. Orion was not going to be solving their tank problem.

"Hold this! Sorry!" Cornelius shoved the Westar M-5 to a nearby Purge Trooper, regardless if it was Captain Brutus or not. Reaching for his back, he drew the NT-242 that had been waiting to see action. "You saw those Hyenas? Either the insurgents are covering their retreat, or we're about to get absolutely hammered."

Setting it up was a daunting task when under fire, but went on with it anyway. "Orion squad is dead. Call up anyone from your unit, see if they have anything remotely useful for destroying armor. Anything."

Slowly and carefully bringing the anti-materiel rifle up, he breathed slowly. There was no projectile drop he had to worry about since it was plasma, but the target being no more than several dozen meters away helped too. Squeezing the trigger sent a green bolt towards the center mass of the Snail Tank. It left a sizeable and visible hole in the center, but as to what it did to the automaton was still unclear.

Ducking back down, he pressed a hand to his helmet, opening up a channel to the friendly fleet above. "This is Scarbrand to Deliverance. Requesting CAS (Close Air Support) on our position if possible. We will attempt to paint the target if needed, over."

Brutus looked at Cornelius and said “Yes, he had them.” The Captain gestured towards the helmet of Tacitus. He then looked back at the LAAT thinking the guns could be salvaged but the damage was too great. Sand continuously flew up as the tank pinned the clones. It tore through their forces like a Nexu in a Bantha pen. The requested CAS would take too long. Brutus holsted his DC-15A and grabbed every explosive he had. Standing up Brutus spoke to Cornelius, “Keep distracting that thing.”

The Purge Captain took off in a sprint around the side of the Tank Droid Captain Mors had already managed to blind. Running up to the side of it Brutus quickly put all of the grenades he grabbed into the exposed tread. After the grenades were primed he sprinted away but the Captain wasn’t fast enough. A ball of fire consumed the tank droid and Brutus, the large explosion pushed the Captain into the air. After soaring in the air for a few seconds Brutus crashed back down into the sand. His armor was scorched and his helmet was cracked but the man inside was fine. Brutus took off his cracked helmet and stood up slowly, his body aching from the impact with the ground. “Area clear.” Brutus called out to his troops.

"Perfect." Cornelius replied sarcastically, repositioning to set up another shot.

The first shot seemed to have done absolutely nothing, or perhaps he failed to hit something important. Blaster bolts, even as big and destructive as that of the NT-242 did not explode, and thus required a hit on something important. It was one reason why Cornelius preferred that the snail were an AAT at this point.

“Keep distracting that thing.”

"Sure." His finger stopped for a moment before its final click. "Wait, what are you doing?"

He saw the Purge Trooper take off in a mad dash for the tank, not being able to stop him anymore, the least he could do was distract the thing. Putting the massive rifle behind him, and retrieving his Westar M-5. With a neural command, his jetpack came to life. Instead of flying high however, he simply hovered, using the jetpack to move him faster. Strafing to the right, he poured blue bolts into the tank, distracting it, turning to get its guns on him. Luckily before it could focus on him and only him, the Snail tank was absorbed in a ball of fire.

The shockwave sent the agent back down on the ground, cushioned by the dirt. nothing was broken thankfully, except the tank of course. Pushing up the beach, he saw the exact same Captain, armor damaged, and helmet in a dastardly state of repair. Pausing for a moment, Cornelius reached into his rear belt pouches, looking for a syringe from one of his PAKs.

He called out and tossed the syringe towards the captain. "Here. Take that, it's a pain killer. Now come on! We still have a battle to win, and an objective to complete!"

Jax headed over to some rubble and pulled it off, revealing that Tacitus was alive, but injured, his face scarred by a few third degree burns, his armor heavily damaged. He revived his Squad Leader, the Clone Commando opening his head. "Jax? Where's Chief and Gauze?" Tacitus asked Jax as he placed his head to shield his eyes from the sunlight, immediately noticing that his helmet was missing. "They didn't make it." Jax said to Tacitus, the Clone simply staring back at him. "We lost two of our brothers, two irreplaceable soldiers, and for what? An impatient captain's desire for the glory of killing a Jedi? The next time he endangers this mission, I'm gonna blow a hole through his head. Consequences be damned." Tacitus said to Jax in anger, the other Clone helping him up. "Regardless of your opinion of our Captain, we need to link up with the others." Jax said to Tacitus, the two Clones heading out of the bunker as fast as their legs could carry them.

"Thanks," Brutus grunted, taking the offered pain killer and injecting himself with it. Their objective still lay further inland, and they'd have to get moving soon. "411th, get ready to move out!" Brutus shouted to his troops as they began to emerge from cover and the gunship's wreckage. Then, he turned his attention to what remained of Orion Squad. "You two. You're too injured to move on." He directed a group of his purge troopers to stay with the commandos. "Keep this spot clear." Next, he flipped his holo-comm on, calling Admiral Karnu. "Beach is secure. Send more troops down when you can, sir."

As they moved up their initial landing zone, it seemed that the bunker complex was now abandoned. There was no fight whatsoever left in them, and just got up and ran. Either that or it was part of a plan, a poorly executed one with some equipment left here and there. Cornelius saw the two remaining commandos however emerge, and were quickly ordered to sit the rest of the mission out due to their injuries. It would seem that whatever happened to them, damaged their IFF tags, thus disappearing completely from sensors.

They had not moved too far yet. Picking Tacitus' helmet, Cornelius also dislodged one of his unused PAKs, placing it in the helmet, and handing it back to the owner. "Here, I think you lost this. There's an aid kit in it, share it amongst you two. If it doesn't help with the injuries, sit this one out."

Curiosity however failed to leave the agent. Kicking open a bunker door, he expected to see hostiles, but instead he was greeted with two dead mercenaries, and munitions crates left undisturbed. Most of them were additional tibana cartridges, blaster coolant, and other supplementary force multiplier weapons. he restocked on smoke grenades, taking extra, sadly none of them were for launchers.

Cornelius did notice an unopened crate. Taking out the vibroknife from his left gauntlet, he jammed it into the crevice, forcing the crate open, beholding to him four RPS-6 missile launchers. he hoisted one of them up, the weapon synchronizing to his HUD. They were unused, and their magazines full. Slinging the Westar M-5 to a less cumbersome position, he took all four launchers by the straps, two in each hand, and lumbered out of the bunker awkwardly.

Kicking the door open again, Cornelius made the announcement of his discovery. "I got some good stuff, guys! Spread it out amongst you. I think they expected us to land with armor."

Brutus closed his holo comm. Karnu seemed too busy for the Clone Captain. Purge troopers rushed to Cornelius to grab the rocket launchers the Agent had found. Brutus walked up to him, “Looks like we will be on our own for a while. I say we keep moving.” Brutus looked ahead to what was in front of them, the rocky shore quickly turned to grassy hills and far back was a massive cliff where the Separatists had set up camp. “411th, we are moving out!” Brutus shouted to his troops, then turned back to Cornelius, “Now that your squad is out of combat feel free to do recon or push with us, the choice is yours.”

The remaining troops grouped up behind their Captain and began to advance towards the cliff. Brutus led the troops from the front, leading them through the green hills encountering a few forward bases. Brutus slashed, shot, and obliterated all the forces they came across, there were no prisoners taken and there was no mercy. The ruthless Captain kept his narrowed eyes on the cliff, keeping the same grueling pace the entire time.

With each squad of enemy troops cut down Brutus bathed in the same pleasure he grew to look forward to on Allst Prime. He even started to employ some old tactics he and General Brovil used. These included trap laying, sabotage, and the one Brutus used the most; fear. With every other base they cleared or scout force they encountered, Brutus let one man call the main base to beg and plead for reinforcements only to be slaughtered in front of them. It seems San Rend had noticed Brutus’ push to the main base as most of the camps the small force encountered were abandoned. ‘Good’ Brutus thought to himself, he wanted Rend to know that he was coming.

Eventually the troopers arrived at the cliff face and the Separatists were waiting above, beginning to rain fire down at the Imperials. The Seps had been smart enough to knock out whatever means they'd used to reach the top. “Looks like we will have to climb, men! Get your ascension cables ready, once we get up there it will be the fight of our lives. Leave none alive- traitors don’t deserve mercy.” The 411th split into two groups- one, carrying their long rifles, began to return fire towards the Separatist forces, taking cover where they could. The second moved with Brutus, rushing the cliff face with ascension cables at the ready.

Orion squad was out, either temporarily or for the whole fight was a different question, his medical knowledge was not profound enough to determine that. As the last of the missile launchers found new owners, Cornelius was offered to either stay with the main group, or provide recon for the unit. He was trained to fight on the front and to wage less honorable warfare, it mattered little.

Cornelius shifted the M-5 back to his front. "I can do both. Just tell me when I have to switch to recon, yeah?"

As they moved, forward bases were wiped with relative ease. It seemed that these insurgents were either incredibly demoralized by something, or they were just poorly trained. It mattered little however. Depending on the situation, he either stayed back, picking off enemy officers and NCOs, or up front, and or flying, flanking enemy positions as they were distracted with the Purge Troopers. But perhaps it was the fear tactics Captain Brutus had used that bothered him a bit, but he kept quiet, him and his unit had done much worse, things they never talked about, openly or clandestinely. But then he saw it, just like with the rest of everyone, a cliff.

Cornelius would have complained at first, but then again landing on the cliff may have been suicide considering the anti-air emplacements on the beach. They had come under fire almost immediately as they were spotted by the base of the cliff. Some Purge Troopers backpedaled to return fire, others set up ascension cables. He had a spare two lines for the wrist mounted ascension cable he had, and fired two of them, and then signaling others that there were two lines set up and ready to go. He then went to the rest of the Purge Troopers who were providing covering fire, waiting for the first group to reach at least halfway up the cliff face.

When he saw the black figures reach the halfway point he keyed into the 411th's officer network, Cornelius spoke. "Captain. I'm going to go ahead and lay down smoke for the central force above to cover the main attack body. See you top-side!"

Cornelius loaded another high explosive grenade round into the underbarrel launcher of the Westar M-5, before moving a few smoke grenades to an easy to reach area. In the orchestra of blaster fire, one jetpack sounded off, sending the agent up the cliff in only a few seconds. He crested the cliff edge only a few meters high, and sent the grenade loose into a hastily set up fortification. It killed most of the defenders, but left a few alive.

As the fireball cleared, and himself huddled against the other side of the fortification, he peered into the pit, seeing a few still squirming, and gave them each a three round burst. When the immediate area was clear, he threw three smoke grenades where the most ascension cable anchors were. The cloud that came was not positioned perfectly, nor was it done poorly, but it was going to do the job. Now all they had to do was get up the cliff.