Star Wars: A Galaxy in Crisis | IC | OPEN

[Azanaire]

Camira's Base, Dathomir



Camira placed her lightsaber on the table in front of her, which was meant to signal that she was in charge here. Several Lords looked to the Emperor's daughter in respect and quieted down after the uproar. However, Lord Escragus held a firm grand in cautioness to Shaal's defection,

"Camira, I respect your decisions most of the time. However, if we are to overthrow Kiolan we cannot allow the apprentices and known sympathizers to this cause. Her presence can lead to the Empire locating this base and adverting our plans forever!"

Lord Esccragus began to storm out of the room, flanked with several diplomatic droids. However, before he could completely leave, Camira raised her fist and force choked the Lord. He collpased to the ground in agony and screamed in pain, pleading for help. Camira turned cold as she kept using the force, harder and harder until a loud snap was heard, and Escragus' screams became eerie silence.

"Anyone else want to insult me and our newest member?" yelled Camira, grabbing Escragus' lightsaber and placing it on her belt. "Now, that's get to business!"

[Ovesa]

Camira's Base, Dathomir

Nothing could have prepared Shaal for what she had just witnessed. When Escragus had begun to leave the room, she wasn't sure what kind of reaction to expect from Camira. But the way she stood cold and silent, while the man cried out in agony, begging for mercy: it shook her to her core. His screams were cut short by a resounding crack that cut through the air.

As two droids swooped in to remove the body, Shaal was haunted by the man's pleas. He may have been stubborn in his apprehension, but Shaal could partially understand his reasoning. By no means did Glasyr support Camira's rebellion; he knew fully well that their visions of a new Empire were incompatible. But in the past, he was one of the few Sith Lords who didn't actively seek to extinguish them.

She began to wonder if Escragus's words had any truth to them. Was her presence making Camira's group a larger target? Would the movement suffer if she stayed on Dathomir? Silently, Shaal stood by Camira, wondering how she would begin such a conversation...

Sith Academy, Korriban

The winds were intense today, driving streams of scalding, sun-baked sand into the faces of any who dared to venture through the desert. Darth Oskya patrolled the ancient grounds of the Sith Academy; each room had a memory, each corridor had a legacy. Although many of the locations here had been modified or renovated, she could still picture what it had looked like decades prior.

This place shaped her into who she would eventually become. Before she was an almost-universally feared and respected Dark Lord, before she helped reunite the Empire under Kiolan, before she fought wave after wave of rogue Sith and their allies, she was simply Oskya; a scared young girl taken from her homeworld with no reason given to her.

When she first arrived, she was an oddity for a number of reasons. For starters, most force sensetives brought from Dathomir were male. Secondly, she was a mutant; it was practically unheard of for a female Dathomirian Zabrak to have horns, let alone long, jagged ones. Thirdly, she only stayed for a few weeks on Korriban before being selected as an apprentice.

Leading up to her selection, Oskya was placed in a group of acolytes who were looked after by a man by the name of Overseer Aster. He was an angry and bitter man known for taking out his anger on acolytes. He held a special hatred in his heart for non-human sentients, a sentiment he was sure to remind Oskya of constantly.

Three weeks into her stay on Korriban, Overseer Aster was found lying dead in a ditch; his throat had been crushed and his lightsaber had been stolen. It didn't take long to locate his saber, which was in Oskya's possession. Rather than being reprimanded, Oskya was praised for her early mastery of Force Grip, which soon caught the attention of several Sith Lords looking for an apprentice...

Oskya was not on Korriban to reminisce. She had come to find a group of acolytes, to prove to Kiolan that her training methods could work with even the lowest of trainees. As she walked through the corridors of the Academy, she came across a group of five acolytes, who were being reprimanded by an Overseer. As she got closer, she could hear the Overseer's tirade.

"You filthy wretches, you absolute slime! You are by far the worst acolytes I have ever had the misfortune of knowing in my entire life. None of you would last a day outside of this Academy! Why-"

He stopped, finally noticing the Zabrak looming over him. "D-Darth Oskya! What an unexpected surprise, I wasn't expecting a Dark Lord to arrive today." He then turned to the fearful acolytes. "Darth Oskya is an exemplary model of a true Sith. Ruthless, powerful, and honorable---traits which you degenerates lack."

Darth Oskya carefully eyed the group of acolytes. They were an interesting mix; a Kaleesh, a Twi'Lek, two humans, and a Zygerrian. They didn't seem like much now, but Oskya could already envision them as Sith Warriors. "Overseer, you said that these were the worst acolytes you've ever seen?"

"Absolutely, they-"

"I'll take them."

"...what?"

"You heard me. Don't make me repeat myself." There was a distinctive low anger radiating from her voice. "I'll arrange for them to come with me, to Dathomir. Is that clear?"

"Yes, my Lord, of course." The Overseer cowered away, out of Oskya's range.

The acolytes looked at each other with shock. With a single sentence, Darth Oskya had turned that abrasive tyrant into a cowering fool. Was this really happening? The Zygerrian got enough courage to speak up. "Darth Oskya, are you really going to be taking us to Dathomir?"

Her head turned back to the group. She looked the Zygerrian in the eyes and nodded, gesturing for the acolytes to come follow her. The acolytes followed her down the corridors and all the way to Oskya's ship, unsure of what their future would hold...

[The United Empire of Exucular]

Galactic Commonwealth NewsNet

Hello citizens of the Commonwealth and beyond! This is the the Galactic Commonwealth NewsNet bringing you today's state of affairs!

Government workers have been working tirelessly these past few months as numerous worlds and star systems have been rapidly added into the Commonwealth. This expansion campaign has been the product of Emperor Vero Noscondra-Solo's belief that the Commonwealth needed to grow in order to stay competitive on the galactic stage.

As a result, the citizenship and immigration services are hiring and training thousands as the extra hands are needed to process the billions of new citizens joining the Commonwealth.

As this happens across the Commonwealth to the galactic south of our nation millions of refugees from the fallen Orintek have fled into Commonwealth controlled systems as various factions continue to war over their home regions. The Emperor has ordered for refugee camps to be constructed for the housing of these displaced peoples until they either request permanent citizenship in the Commonwealth or return home once the fighting ends.

In the Trade and Finance spheres the Emperor has sent a pact request to the governments of the Alliance of Free Planets and the Mandalorian Confederation. We at the NewsNet do not have the full document as it has not been publicly released, but we have been given short excerpts from the office of the Emperor.

The document according to our sources does not mention any military agreements, but would instead foster goodwill between all factions involved if ratified. From what we know it is a free trade agreement meant to improve galactic economies and safety for starships travelling across space.

Emperor Vero has chosen to first present the idea of the pact to all factions that currently have holdings in the Core Worlds, but our Emperor hopes it will not end here. It is the hopes of the Emperor and the Royal Senate that this free trade agreement will grow to encompass many more galactic factions. With the explosion of tensions across the Galaxy any attempt at reducing the volatility of the galactic stage is highly welcomed.

That's all for today! Tune in tomorrow for more galactic news both home and abroad!

[Davincia]

the Liberty, Above Salucami

As Master Uniq looked at the cautious President of the IMT, she spoke up in a calm tone, "President Firigs- welcome. Sorry about the mess and the space battle. We are on the way to Sundari as you speak, Mr. President. Please follow us to the bridge so you may contact the Sundari Governate about your arrival."

Master Uniq smiled and gestured towards the western corridor...

"You are much too kind, Jedi," answered President Firgis with a smile. "But I understand that our enemies are numerous in this galaxy. A battle from time to time is to be expected."

Firgis followed the set path toward the bridge of the Liberty, seeing scorch marks emblazoned on the walls, floors, and ceiling. The fighting must have been fierce, and he almost regretted not arriving sooner to join it. His thirst for vengeance made him impatient and yearning for action. A Jedi could never understand such emotions, being the high-and-mighty peacekeepers of a fallen Republic. This alliance required the IMT to play nice, and he was ready to do just that. It wasn't long before Firgis reached the bridge and prepared himself to speak to the Sundari Governate.

[Newrey]

Mandalore, Galo Valaar

Galo was normally the type of man who had a hold on his emotions, something he had picked up after his many years serving alongside the frequently emotionless Jedi, but returning to Mandalore had thrown a wrench into his techniques. No matter how hard he tried, it would only lead to a flash of Tiva's face the last time they had seen each other. He ran his hand through his thick brown hair before placing his cap back on his head, he was acting childishly. He was here, representing the Jedi Order, not to let his mind become plagued with memories of the past, had he been an Ensign, he might have forgiven himself, but he was an Admiral, and he should act like it.

"I'll meet you at the shuttle, Master Jedi, Commander Caan has the Bridge" Galo said monotonously, nodding to the young Commander before leaving the bridge. The shuttle was typical of the Jedi fleet, sleek and comfortable for diplomatic purposes, though a bit ostentatious for the mere purpose of moving between ship and planet, but it had been insisted upon. He gave his white tunic a quick pat down before taking his seat, bracing himself as the shuttle detached from the Venator and beginning to descend into Mandalore, shaking as it punched through the atmosphere. Usually, Galo would be bracing himself due to his dislike of atmospheric entry, but instead he found his mind trailing back to the same subject. The mistake he'd made only 2 years ago;

"What do you mean you can't?" Tiva's voice cut through, still clear to this day.

"As in I can't up and leave the Order, I have nothing outside of the Fleet" Galo had replied, looking up from the star charts that were scattered across his desk, though he knew he was wrong as soon as the words left his mouth. Tiva knew it too, and simply left his quarters without a word more, the last time they had ever seen each other.

"Now approaching Sundari" the intercom tore himself from his thoughts, he shook his head. He was here for diplomatic purposes only, he wouldn't let himself become bogged down in the emotional baggage. At least he hoped he wouldn't.

Darth Vayne's Palace, Dathomir

"Of course, of course" Darth Vayne replied, guiding Darth Glasyr with her bone white fingers. The interior of the Palace stood in contrast too itself. Each edge seemed to be sharpened, with numerous dark stone pillars were dotted around, each holding an artefact that no doubt added to the dark aura the building exuded, yet there were several sofas and rugs that gave the foyer an almost homely feel to it.

"I do hope that, in my time of need, that this favour is not so easily forgotten, however"

[Azanaire]

Sundari Royal Palace, Mandalore

Duchess Tiva's took a deep breathe as she sat in her in her throne, her gray and white robes extending to the steps of the throne. Her hair was curled and her makeup was simple, yet had a purpose. She closed her eyes and began dreaming of Galo, her former lover.

Love had been forbidden in the Jedi Codes, even with limited numbers, connections were a dangerous cause that could not occur. After her father, Duke Koncai, had been murdered - her dreams of running away with Galo, even for a brief moment, was impossible. Now, two years later, he was coming to Sundari for diplomatic talks.

An aide came into the room as she finished her vision,

"Your majesty, Admiral Jatos of the Jedi Naval Fleet has arrived."

Tiva nodded in approval and stood up as Galo entered the throne room. There was a moment that she wanted to run up to him and kiss him - however, this wasn't the time. She had to defend Mandalore at all costs - even if war was necessary.

[Ovesa]

Vayne's Palace, Dathomir

"This act of generosity will not be forgotten." As he said this, he tried to take his mind off of the anger which threatened to consume him. How did Oskya lose track of Shaal so easily? What kind of danger was Shaal in?

He cursed himself for sending his young apprentice on her own to Dromund Kaas. She had lived in a protective bubble her whole life, never straying too far from her master. Now she was alone in a dangerous and uncaring world, with no one to protect or guide her except for scoundrels and vagabonds, and who knows what else...

"As you may already know, my main concern is Shaal's safety." His voice echoed within the black tomb of a palace, a place that reeked of fear and darkness. "As long as we can find her and return her to the safety of the Empire, I'm willing to spend as much time and effort on this search as humanly possible. My only issue is finding a place to start..."

[Magnolixie]

Join me, and together we can destroy the Sith. - Count Dooku of Serenno

Master Malogaan's Shuttle
Hangar Bay of the Visionary
Orbit above Mandalore

The path must continue.

She had remained in her shuttle for a few days, only leaving to deliver the most essential of messages to Admiral Galo in regards to the Mandalorian issue. It was not that Malogaan had sat idly in the austere vessel of a Jedi; no, that was not the case at all. Quite to the contrary, she had been hard at work in terms of philosophically justifying the two words she had felt through the Force, those two words that she knew she had to use in order to save the Order and bring the Jedi into a new age of Light.

Total War.

Had another Master heard this, they would have dismissed the concept as a manifestation of the Dark Side, of the Sith. If a younger Malogaan had been instructed to carry out such a matter, she would have gone to the Council for guidance. But the decade had changed her. The Jedi Code had said that there was no emotion, only peace; if this were true, why was the Galaxy plunged into chaos for generations before Malogaan had even been born on that damned world of Corellia? There was not "only peace"; indeed, there seemed to be an absence of it in all of its forms.

Malogaan could count on only a select few for her scheme to prepare the Jedi Order for a total war. Master Onassi, Master Uinq, Admiral Valaar. Perhaps even her friend and sole confidant, Kobayshai , could be persuaded in time to assist her. But a sizable portion of the Council, including Grand Master Elatar, would never embrace her ideals. So, for now, Malogaan waited patiently, carrying out her duties above Mandalore. The fire of warfare would not burn out for some time, and the Order could still be reforged later.

Upon her return to Ahch-To, Master Malogaan will begin the implementation of her plan for Total War. Starting with the formation of a non-Force-sensitive youth organization, the All-Republic Pioneer Corps (or Young Pioneers for short), Malogaan will incrementally militarize the resources the Order has at hand in order to prepare for the final trial of the Jedi against the perceived forces of darkness.

[Newrey]

Sundari, Mandalore
Galo Valaar

His hands were resting comfortably at the small of his back, yet, beneath his black glove, his knuckles had gone white from clenching. It was the only way he'd ever been able to stop his uneasiness showing openly, and now in Sundari City, he needed it more than ever, especially to maintain the image he'd carefully crafted as a calm, composed, and calculating man. Crowds had undoubtedly gathered, and he intended to be seen as viewing them in a strategic light, not in awe.

By the time he'd reached the Sundari Royal Palace, he felt off balance, not only by his imminent meeting with Tiva after so long, but also by the Mandalorian insistence on building with abstract intentions, it had always put him off balance, even when he was much younger. Stepping into the Royal Palace, the relative silence of the Palace only made the thump] of his heartbeat in his ear far worse.

"Admiral, the Duchess is expecting you" one of the numerous aides said, his voice reaching through the sound of Galo's own thoughts.

"Excellent, lead the way, I'm not on to keep the hosts waiting" he replied, hoping that injecting some humour would make him feel less out of place, but the aide merely nodded and guided Galo to the throne room. As the doors opened, Galo took a gulp and stepped inside, putting on his best diplomatic face. The room was simplistic, a simple elegant carpet leading towards the throne that seemed to be made out of stained glass, all lit up by the giant windows the ran from the floor to the ceiling. He could feel her eyes piercing through him as he walked down the carpet, carrying himself with dignity befitting his rank.

"Duchess Tiva Qyrnoost" he said, coming to a halt near the throne and bowing, even after all these years he could still never pronounce her surname "You must forgive our abrupt arrival, it was deemed of great importance that we soothe our relations." He struggled to maintain eye contact with her, shame creeping over his shoulder for his previous actions, but it still felt good to see her again. The past two years he had spent in space with a longing in the pit of his stomach, a longing to look upon her face. A small smile flashed across his face, she'd done something with her hair.

Vayne's Palace, Dathomir
Darth Vayne

"And I do whatever in my power to make your stay here fruitful, have no worries" she said, her words smooth yet tinged with a frosty bite "One can never be too sure with how apprentices will act in new situations, a situation I know full well" she added curtly. She led Darth Glasyr down one of the long, dimly lit corridors that made up her palace, the red light of Dathomir piercing through the large windows that ran the length. Arriving at in a small command centre, she waved her hand, turning on the central holoprojector with and image of Dathomir springing to life.

"Unfortunately, my main Command centre is under refurbishment, this is the only one out of the way enough that you presence here should go unnoticed. But for your search, might I suggest a scan of the planet? My own ships use a certain access codes, so it is quite unlikely that they will appear upon such a scan"

[Ovesa]

The Wilds, Dathomir

Cutting a path through dense, spiky shrubs, Oskya led her acolytes through an ancient Dathomirian forest. Although it had been many, many years since her last visit, she could clearly remember where her group needed to go.

Black, spike-covered trees lined the faint outline of a path overrun with native grasses and mosses. The blood red sun watched over them, their only guardian in a cloudless sky.

After several minutes of travel, they finally arrived to their destination; a clearing that had remained untouched for decades. The acolytes were taken aback; they had never seen anything so mysteriously peaceful before.

Oskya had no time to spare. Without warning, she stepped out into the field, pulling out one of her two lightsaber and burning a line in the field. Her orders were brief and direct. "Line up behind this line, facing me."

Hastily, the acolytes scrambled to get behind the line. They stood in formation stiffer than boards.

Oskya examined the lineup; they all had a strong connection with the force, that was certain. But she needed to know more than that before training could begin...

With her lightsaber in hand, she swung around and pointed at the youngest human, his brown hair and green eyes almost washed out by the bright red light coming from the blade. "Tell me your name and home planet." Oskya ordered.

To say he was startled would have been an understatement. "I-I'm Eran, I'm from Korriban. Theypickedmefromtheslavepensand
alsopleasedon'tstabme." His voice was high pitched and frantic as he put his hands up and leaned back, away from the blade. He was expecting to be scolded for his cowardice, or worse. Fearfully, he anticipated Oskya's reaction.

After a painstaking five seconds, she deactivated her saber and bolstered it. She then turned to the next acolyte in line. "Name and homeworld, please."

If Oskya had learned anything from Glasyr, it was what one could learn from what was said. Or how it was said. Or, in some cases, what was left unsaid. Just from their basic introductions, she could get a glimpse into who these acolytes were. For example, the Zygerrian, whose name was Jaana, was a natural-born leader with a determined spirit. There was also Avaris, the Twi'Lek scavenger from Malachor who spoke little and schemed more. And one couldn't forget Relion, the human from Naboo who evidently came from a background of privilege.

Last in line was the Kaleesh. Almost none of their skin was showing, covered by brown robes and cloth hand wraps. Behind their traditional Kaleesh mask, their eyes darted with an unspoken curiosity.

Just as Oskya was about to speak, Jaana interjected. "That's Thamahel. They aren't one for conversation."

"...alright." Oskya backed away from the group. "From this day forward, I am taking you on board as my apprentices. BUT, if you agree to learn the ways of the Sith, you must undergo training. I expect nothing from you but diligence and discipline, no matter what you may face. It will NOT be easy, but at the end of it all, you will become some of the most powerful warriors in the galaxy."

The acolytes stood solemnly, nervously looking to each other. Finally, Jaana spoke up. "Where do we start?"

Oskya, in a rare moment, smiled. "That's what I want to hear."

Suddenly, a massive beast lunged from beyond the clearing, the ground shaking with each large step. Looming over the group, in all of its grotesque glory, was none other than a Rancor.

Instinctively, Oskya grabbed bother her sabers and lunged, leading the charge. Her apprentices followed suit, preparing for the fight of their lives...

Darth Vayne's Palace, Dathomir

He should have been comfortable in the presence of such a generous ally, but Glasyr felt uneasy. The dark corridors, the red lighting, the ominous world, Vayne's ice tinged voice: to put it simply, it just wasn't right.

Glasyr was never fond of Dathomir. It was a raw, unsanitized world, shrouded in a suffocating dark aura. Combined with its strange native lifeforms and the presence of the widely feared Night Sisters, it was not Glasyr's favorite world.

On the bright side, it did look beautiful: from a distance. It rested in the void of space like a lovely pink pearl, contrasting greatly with the black nothingness. That's where he wished to admire Dathomir: from a safe distance.

Even if he disliked being on the planet, he just had to find Shaal before it was too late. He would never forgive himself if something happened to his apprentice. Each second he wasted was another moment lost forever, another moment farther from the safety of Korriban.

"This is perfect, thank you." Immediately, he got to work. A holographic globe crackled into existence right before him, a red ball with grid lines and oceans and continents. The scanners sent out their signals across the planet, represented by wavelines that spread across the entire planet's surface.

Waiting, waiting, waiting. He could stop staring at the map: there had to be a sign, a ship, something, anything. He gave up on counting the seconds, the minutes, looking for any sort of sign that his apprentice was there.

What was that? A single golden dot appeared, before flickering out of existence. He cursed himself for getting his own hopes up. It was probably some debris, or a solar flare, or a wayward transport that narrowly escaped Dathomir's orbit. There was no point in dwelling on disappointment; now all he could do was stand by and watch...

[Ovesa]

The Wilds, Dathomir

The fight with the Rancor was close, but the group pushed through until the end. Oskya led the initial charge, but the Rancor's thick, laser-resistant skin held up against even the mightiest of blows. Jaana and Relion followed up Oskya's initial attack with deliberate, precise strikes aimed at the beast's weak points. However, a lack of coordination resulted in missed opportunity attacks and minor injuries.

In an attempt to distract the creature, Avaris ran straight towards Rancor, unleashing a flurry of slashes going every which way. The beast, who was not amused, kicked the young Twi'Lek back a solid 30 feet, almost knocking him unconscious.

This bought more time for his compatriots. Out of the bushes, Eran ran in and out though the Rancor's legs with a long, thick set of vines tied to the base of a nearby tree. Entangled and confused, the Rancor roared, shaking the area for miles around.

Like a harbinger, Thamahel threw themself onto the Rancor's back, climbing the beast with alarming speed. With a great ferocity, they slashed at the creatures eyes and face, their lightsaber moving so quickly that the beast' s head was enveloped in a whirling flash of red light.

With a final resounding scream, the Rancor fell to the ground. Its head was practically unrecognizable, a mass of burnt tissue with part of a jaw and one eye still intact. Massive, sharpened teeth littered the clearing like shrapnel. The Rancor's body was completely motionless.

The fight was over. They had won.

Later that evening, the apprentices were all gathered around a campfire, cracking jokes and sharing stories. The air was filled with laughter as they carried on throughout the night. Today's battle, they had all proven that they were capable of holding their own; most importantly, they had shown Oskya that they were worthy of being her apprentices. It was cause to celebrate.

"...and that's how I talked my way out of getting those charges on Nar Shadaa." Avaris, who had just begun to recover from his injuries, was spinning tales of his great adventures.

Jaana was skeptical, but humored him. "Yeah, right. Like they'd just let you walk away after smuggling 30 Lothal cats into a casino like that."

"I'm serious! As long as you can make the Hutts happy, they'll let you do just about anything over there."

Relion was not amused. "How noble of you. I'm sure that Darth Oskya would be honored to take on a low-life scoundrel as an apprentice."

Avaris smirked. "Tsk. Looks like someone's mad that their daddy couldn't pay their way out of sending you to Korriban."

Relion raised his clenched fist. "WHO GAVE YOU THE RI-"

"Woah, woah, woah, everyone needs to back up for a minute." Jaana stood between the two of them, holding them apart a respectable distance. "I get it, nobody asked to be here. We all got plucked out of our lives, got tossed around in the academy, and now we're all stuck together. Like it or not, we have to work together to survive. Otherwise, we won't last a day here."

Jaana took a deep breath. "I know, we're all from different backgrounds, different planets, you name it. One person's unthinkable might be part of another's daily routine. But as long as we're stuck together, let's try and hate each other less. We don't have to make this hell for ourselves."

The two fighting apprentices looked to the ground, avoiding eye contact. Finally, Avaris broke the silence. "Alright, whatever. I'm totally getting off this rock first chance I get."

Relion nodded. "I wholeheartedly agree. This is all just so undignified."

"You said it, pal."

Jaana sighed, defeatedly. How was this ever going to work out? Before arriving on Korriban, she barely even knew what the Force was. Now, it would become the aspect that affected everything else in her life from that point forward. How were the others handling these feelings? Did they feel the same? It was not like she could ask them; Eran was somewhere in the forest, looking at all of the wildlife, while Thamahel was harvesting what was left of the Rancor. It was strange, feeling so alone in such a large group. Still, she kept her fingers crossed, hoping that things would soon get better...

[Parcia]

A collaboration between Parcia and Aserais

The Jade Finch
Some were in the galactic south.

He didn't even know the actual name of the system, if it had a name more than a basic numerical ID. The system had a large purple star with an asteroid belt, likely made up of some planet that was shattered some long ago by some cosmic event. The Finch was running as silently as Ziam could make her, cutting the drives to 0, cutting the shields, her sensors, hell even turning the heater down to get her hull to as close to local temperature as he could.

He watched on passive sensors as the two slaver scouts zipped by without noticing the CR-90 hidden in the asteroid belt. Seeing them return to their mothership, an old Dreadnought carrier refit with a trio of CR-70s escorting it, he only breathed a sigh of relief as the whole flotilla of slaver ships hyperspaced out. Getting up, he turned across the bridge to his bunk where he normally slept and took the slug thrower off the wall. Reaching into the little box he kept on a shelf next to his bunk, he opened it to reveal a set of metallic cartridges. Throwing open the bolt of the rifle he began to load 5 of them into it's internal magazine before chambering a round and closing the bolt.

Slinging the rifle over his shoulder, he also drew his blaster pistol and checked it's gas and power packs. His passengers hadn't told him everything and nearly gotten them shot to shit out in some southern backwater. He holstered the pistol and unslung the rifle to let it sit in his arms. For a moment he checked his reflection in a monitor and found himself suitably intimidating for what he was about to do. Taking a deep breath, he tapped the door and let it slide open.

Walking down the hall towards the crew section where he had last left his passengers, he found the family unit and leaned against a nearby bulkhead. For a few brief moments he was silent, then chose to speak in the direction of the women in the suit of Mando iron.

"So, I figured when I took an unknown contract I was taking in some risks, hell the 150k upfront payout with 75k on upon delivery was enough to arouse suspicion. So when I saw someone in full Beskar'gam toting a small arsenal, I chose to hold my breath for when we are out in the void." He paused, letting the fact he knew some Mando'a set in to give his words some weight. Breaking the silence, he pulled up a spare crate and sat the slug rifle over his lap.

"So tell me, who really are you?"

The Mando in the room stared at him through the visor of her helmet, the reflective surface giving no indication of her emotional state one way or another. She had taken notice of his slug thrower and the blaster on his hip when he entered the room--how could she not? But she wasn’t worried. The Whistling Bird on her wrist was armed, and the targeting system in her helmet had already marked him.

All it would take is a twitch, and three inches of beskar would be lodged in his frontal lobe.

Still, she sighed, and removed her helmet. Her shoulder-length black hair fell out of the bucket and around her head, and her piercing gray eyes remained on the spacer that her sister had hired to carry her back into Mandalorian space with vital intel about the various warlords that had taken over Ornitek’s old stomping grounds.

The man and two young children she had traveling with her were cover--not truly her spouse or kids, but they had proven useful in keeping most of the more suspicious citizens of the port city off of her back until her cover had been blown.

And it wasn’t like she was going to leave them to die on some backwater.

“I’m Kalis, of clan Stinn. If you know anything about the Mando’a, you know what that means,” she said simply as she set her helmet next to her on the bench she was resting on.

For a moment, Ziam held a deadpan expression, seemingly staring the warrior women down. Then, rather interestingly, began to quietly chuckle. After a few moments of this he went on, “Of...of fracken course you are, because even when I make 150 thousand credits in literally 5 minutes, it’s because i'm transporting family members of the most ruthless Mando clan out there. If I were a religious man, I’d say my patron sky daddy of choice has a sense of humor.”

After a second chuckle at his own joke, he sat the rifle on the durasteel wall behind him and put his face into his hands, truly wondering just what in all the hells he had gotten himself into. Well, she had introduced herself, so should he. “Ziam Cyrus, Doctor of Archaeology out of Corellia. This ship is, as you know by the contract writ, the Jade Finch. I specialize in the subject of the Jedi, the Sith, and the Old republic. I’ve got 4 years in CorNav and know my way around a CR-90s inner workings.”

He went on, taking his face out of his hands. “If my memory of the writ serves, and I can’t be fracked to find the holodisplayer, I’m to transport you fine folks to Mando’a space, though it didn’t tell me where. I was hoping you had a destination in mind.”

“Well, now’s as good a time as any. My sister should be waiting for my call,” she said calmly, before she reached onto her belt and took out the personal communicator that she carried with her at all times. It was encrypted and hard coded to only one channel, and only one person had the frequency.

She pushed the call button, and almost immediately a blue hologram flared to life above the communications pad. The person in the holo was wearing much heavier Beskar’gam than Kalis was, with plates that covered every conceivable angle of attack, and a heavy cape that draped over only one shoulder.

“Kalis! Where the kriff have you been? I was expecting your call an hour ago! What happened?” the woman in the holo asked, clearly worried and more than a little frustrated.

“Relax, Imdube. We ran into some trouble with the slaver crew that found out my cover, but we’re safe. We’re currently in the middle of nowhere, though, and being hunted by a small flotilla. You should give Doctor Cyrus here a bonus when we make it through this,” she responded, giving her sister a small smile.

The hologram rolled her eyes and crossed her arms, tapping her finger against the beskar plate on her left bicep.

“Well, fine then. Did you at least get the intel out?”

“Of course I did, don’t worry about that. Worry about how you are going to pull our butts out of this fire,” she responded as she leaned back. “You got coordinates for us to meet up with the battle group?”

Imdube huffed and pressed a button on her gauntlet, causing a set of coordinates to flash in the upper right corner of the hologram. “We’ll be here. I knew you were in trouble, so I took the time to round up two more battleships. We even got a Jensaarai with us. Get there within three hours,” the head of clan Stinn ordered, before the hologram abruptly cut out.

Kalis looked up to the frankly scruffy doctor, a smile on her face.

“You catch those coordinates? I’ve got them if you didn’t.”

“Yea, though we have a problem. If I jet on out of here at full blast, those CR-70s are likely to blast right back here out of real space, and while the Finch can easily gun down one, three is a bit much, combined with the maybe 8 or 9 starfighters that dreadnought had, we wouldn’t make it out of the system. I can push us to...maybe 45% sub light before we are throwing off enough emissions to be picked up on long range scanners. I’d keep it to 35% for safe keeping, so maybe...8 hours on the long end. Once we get to the other side of the star we can jet off at full throttle and by the time they see our hyperspace jump signature we’d be well and truly gone.”


Standing, he did a short stretch and retrieved his rifle. Shouldering it, he nodded to Kalis. “Come join me on the bridge, we can plug in the numbers there.” He’d sling the rifle and walk back to the bridge, leaving the door open.


Kalis motioned for her friends to stay where they were as she picked up her helmet and put it back on before she followed the doctor out of the door and down the hall towards the bridge.

“My sister’s gonna be right miffed if we don’t make it out of this in one piece, Doc, so I’ll follow your lead. But still, I’d take a face-to-face fight over this hiding and sneaking any day of the week,” she said casually as she stepped onto the bridge, looking around the small space. Once she found the nav computer she stepped up the holodisplay, using her fingers to navigate the haptics and input the coordinates.

“Kriffing slavers. The only good news in this whole debacle is that if they did find us, they wouldn’t blow up your ship. I’m much too valuable for them,” she revealed, her voice sounding tinny through the helmet’s speakers.

“Indeed, but this isn’t your ship. I'm a historian, and while I wont go into detail, there is a considerable cache of artifacts and materials onboard that I'd rather not fall into the hands of slaver pirates.” he paused for a moment, hanging the rifle back on its rack and turning to her.

“They aren’t family, are they.”

“Nah. They’re cover. A good one, too, right up until those slavers caught me downloading their shipment manifests and trade routes. I couldn’t just leave them in wild space to rot,” she said as she finished putting in the coordinates, turning to lean against the counter and crossing her arms over her chest.

“So, a historian, huh? You’ll probably like it in Mando space. We’ve got these new Force users, the Jensaarai they call themselves. Their temple is like a huge museum--chock full of artefacts. They might let you see it if you ask nice.”

He took a seat at the helm and reached for a thermos of recaff. “Indeed, a Galaxy that fails to learn from its past mistakes, it’s doomed to repeat them. As for the Jensaarai...I was interested in using their records to further my research.” Taking a sip of the black liquid, he went on. “Oh, the family, the cover, they look well enough like you, but anyone versed in bone structure, say a doctor, bounty droid, or an archeologist would pick them right out.”

He turned and gave a weak smile. “Though what gave it away to me was the dad didn’t perk up at my Mando’a the same way you did...didn’t seem very Mando’a either.” Another sip of warm recaff. “Speaking of which, how does one become a Mando, I know of the old stories, but I figured most of them going the pacifist route a few decades back sorta changed that.”


“Heh. Luckily, the average slaver is about as sharp as a dull rock,” she said with a brief laugh before she went quiet at the question, suddenly finding the floor extremely interesting for a moment.

“My sister changed that, when Death Watch killed our parents. She revived the old ways, took the helm in a way that I never could. Clan Stinn are all Mando’a now. Vode an,” she said quietly, still looking at the ground intently.

“Anyways, it might be less pacifistic than you remember on Mandalore. We still have the aristocracy, but a lot more of us are embracing the old ways. Becoming true Mando’a. We have to--the Sith are becoming too much of a threat. Before Ornitek fell, there was also that threat. We’ve been busy these last few years.”

“Almost sounds like some stuff I’d see in an old Republic Propaganda archive...It sounds swell, if I were a younger man I’d might pursue it further.” He shook his head after taking another swig of his recaff. “I’ve done enough fighting in my life, the current state of the galaxy almost makes me want to wish the Old Republic was still around, least shit was peaceful back then.”

For a moment he seemed to stare off into space, a thousand yard stare on his face as the faint sounds of alarm klaxons and turbolaser fire rang in his ears. He snapped himself out of it, both a little startled he’d fallen into another memory trip and in front of the Mando of all people.

A little embarrassed, he changed the subject. “So, tell me more about the clan.”

“Not much to tell, really. My sister is the head of the clan, and we represent most of the military leaders in the Mandalorian Armada. You should be seeing about three Keldabe-Class Battleships in the battle group she’s bringing, so if we can make it to her we shouldn’t have to worry about the slavers anymore,” she revealed.

“My sister’s been pushing the Confederation to get to more of a war footing for some time now, and it looks like her hard work might finally be paying off.”

He stared out into space as the Finch began to gently accelerate out of their hidden pocket among the asteroid belt. With the increase in engines, the CR-90 experienced one of it’s few potential flaws: when the climate control is switched off the powerful block of engines often causes the temperature of the ship’s internal to rise slowly.

“Wouldn’t call war a pay off. Spent my 4 years in CorNav fighting pirates, Slavers, you name it. Saw a lot of combat, lost a lot of good friends.”

“War, maybe not. But a war footing? Most definitely, especially when your entire northern border is the Sith and Zygerrians, who would love nothing more than to turn your entire population into slaves,” she countered.

She sat down in one of the other chairs on the bridge and began keeping an eye on the sensor readings--just to make sure that the slavers didn’t get wise to their little ruse.

“So, what were you doing in my neighborhood? The ruins of Ornitek isn’t a great place for a doctor to be in.”

“Part of doing what I do means I'm a bit more tapped in to the criminal underworld than most people. I saw some signs of incoming instability and began to pack up shop. I was using a secured storage place on a planet a few systems over as a base of operations, but I figured I'd be safe to load everything into the Finch that could fit. I’ve got a decent amount of data on board and a few...pricey artifacts.”

Looking at her for a moment, he tilted his head. “You don’t know anything about Holocrons, do you?”

“I know they’re way more trouble than they’re worth,” she responded, leaning back into the synthleather seat that she had plopped herself down in.

“The Jensaarai found one from some old Sith Lord recently, they had to use all kinds of special equipment to move it. You have some on board?” she asked, now genuinely curious. From what she understood, it was impossible for a non-Force sensitive to even open them.

He paused for a moment, then reached into a compartment next to his chair. He revealed a small blue crystal cube. With a bit of concentration it flipped open, revealing a single static image of the galaxy. “From what I can tell it’s an old map of the Old Republic during its heyday. It’s horribly out of date, but it helped to a degree with my thesis paperwork.” He attempted to simply glance past the fact that it had opened, as he already came to the conclusion she likely was and hoped it wouldn’t be that big of a deal to the Mando.

Kalis paused for a moment, regarding the open holocron with mild shock. He hadn’t seemed like a Jedi, Sith, or a Jensaarai--but then, there were many Force-sensitives who went unrecruited in this day and age. One of the consequences of the fall of the republic.

“Interesting. So, what are you hoping to find in Mando space? Other than respite from the slavers, of course,” she added, choosing to not bring up the fact that he was clearly a Force-sensitive. Every man was entitled to their own secrets.

A slight pause, then a sigh as he closed the holocron. “No, I'm not some hiding Jedi or sith...I didn’t even know till halfway through my thesis research and got my hands on this thing. It’s the only one I’ve ever gotten to open up.

A beeping broke his silence and he turned back in his chair, leaning over a sensor readout. “Shit, the CR-70s are back, just jumped in...they might have picked up the communication burst from your call.” He sat upright and properly buckled into the flight seat.

“Right, since you're here you can work the weapons system.” He switched off the auto pilot and took the yoke while putting on a headset and keying the PA system. “Ladies and gentlemen this is your captain speaking, we have unwanted visitors and will be needing to get dirty. Buckle in and don't move around the craft till the fashion seat belt sign has been turned off.”

He spoke out to her as he opened the throttle and the Finch began to accelerate, “You’ve got 4 rappid fire medium laser cannons that will auto track targets, all you have to do is select targets. The twin Dual turbolasers are going to need some manual controls since I normally slave them to a panel over here. Sensor screen is to the left, joystick control is on the right. I’ll watch shields and power generation.”

He was barking orders at this point, starting to slip into his element as he found himself in combat for the first time in years. Muscle memory and training kicking in and guiding his actions.

Kalis didn’t even blink--as soon as she saw the CR-70’s on the sensor readout, she was already moving to learn the controls. A task which was made much easier by the good doctor laying out instructions for the operations of the ship’s defense systems. She wasn’t as well-versed in ship-to-ship combat as she was in ground combat, but she was no slouch in either department.

The first thing Kalis did was set the lead frigate as the primary target for the autocannons, and leave them to their own devices--no point in directing them when the ship had a perfectly functioning tracking system slaved to the sensors.

The turbolasers, however, looked like they would need more direct control. Good thing was, the basic principle didn’t seem much different than blaster fire--lead your shot, check your target, and shoot to kill. She re-routed the turbolaser control to the joystick and kept her eye on the sensor readout, making sure to lead her targets by several hundred kilometers, before she pulled the trigger and opened fire with all four guns.

She could tell immediately that one of her shots went wide, though the other four would find their marks.

As she did this, she pulled out her holocomm and put it on the dashboard of the ship, pressing the button to call her sister.

“We’re gonna need assistance, Imdube. The Slavers caught onto our little escape plan. How long until you can get out to us?” she asked, without removing her eyes from the targeting screen as she continued the barrage of turbolaser fire to keep the frigates off their backs.

“Kriffing sithspit, Kalis. We’ll be there ASAP, but you guys gotta hold out. It might be a minute,” her sister responded, before the communications cut out entirely. It wasn’t interference, Kalis knew--it was just her sister jumping into action. The battle group would probably arrive within the hour… she just hoped that was going to be in time.

The Finch began to shutter at its mass dealt with the acceleration, as well as the first few shots from the trailing CR-70 impacting the rear shields. “Ok, our blind spot is to the rear, the main guns can't fire over our ass end cause the engine block, if they know that, they will use it. I’m going to start zig zagging to give you a firing arcs.”

While still staying at speed, he began to bank roughly 40 degrees, trying to angle the ship’s deflector shields and give the mando a shot.

Kalis bit back a curse as the ship lurched with the turn, throwing off her aim momentarily before she managed to correct her firing arc and reacquire her target. Four volleys lanced out from the turbolasers, striking one of the CR-70’s directly on the fore.

“How much power can you shunt to the rear shields? We need to hold out for as long as possible,” she said as she moved to the next target, releasing another few volleys of turbolaser fire that just barely grazed the vessel’s shields as it banked hard to avoid the fire.

“Not a lot! I’m already pushing the drive core.” he tapped his com and started barking orders to his small arsenal of astromechs and repair droids to begin preparing for emergency repairs. “Their shields are going to be shit, land a few good hits on their engines and we might out pace em.”

The Two GR-70s were joined by the third, as well as the lumbering form of the Dreadnought. Said dreadnought began to discharge its paltry fighter compliment, with the sensor suit identifying them as 8 or so Z-95 headhunters. Old, shite, but cheap and likely modified.

The nearest CR-70 took a direct hit, the Finch’s heavy turbolasers piercing it’s shields and critically damaging its drive core and leaving it dead in the void. The second closest CR-70 finally got in range of the 4 medium laser cannons and their firing computer automatically locked and began to track the smaller corvette. After a few moments of calculating range and lead, the battery opened up with a volley of shots. Most landed, and the CR-70’s shield flickered and fell, the combined energy dumpoff collapsing it’s defenses.

“Nearest one’s dead!” He was cut off as a rumble went through the ship as one of the advancing Z-95s made an enterprising strafing run on the Finch, and already a warning klaxon began to blare. “Frak!” All was not bad, as the medium lasers immediately tracked the smaller target and opened fire, with the first shot impacting the headhunter on its belly as it flew past. It began sputtering, smoke, then properly detonated as it’s drive core when critical.

The other Z-95s, now down a wingman, began to make multiple attack runs from various angles. The resulting barrage of incoming fire, largely laser fire and a few light torpedoes, rocked the Jade Finch from side to side, collapsing her shields and battering her hull, in return for taking down another of the two Z-95s. Alarm bells and klaxons blared over head and the fire suppression system kicked in to stop a considerable blaze in the port air lock.

As the furball continued and the Z-95s circled around their stricken CR-90, Ziam reached over and hit the autopilot. “Keep putting out shots, I got an idea.” He bolted from the bridge and down the hall towards the starboard air lock.

Stopping before he went there, he stopped at an armored wall locker and tapped on the keypad, unlocking it. Before him was his mostly empty arms locker and picked out the item in question: A Krupx Void-7 Seismic charge. He hefted it into his arms and once again sprinted towards the airlock.

As he did so, he passed the family as they sat bolted into their crash webbing. “Get to an escape pod pronto!” he yelled as the ship took another hit and rumbled. Getting to the airlock, he opened it and rushed to the other side. Remembering his limited training with munitions from CorNav, he set the charge down and went through the process of arming the thing.

Setting its timer for 30 seconds and arming it, he rushed back out of the airlock and closed it. Running the cycling, he didn’t wait to hear the wooshing sound as the air in the airlock rushed out into the void, taking the ticking charge with it.

He traced his steps back to the bridge and managed to strap back in and open up the throttle once again in an attempt to get as far away from the blast as possible. “Hang on!”

There was a bright blue flash, then silence, then an ear splitting Bang] and the Finch was tossed about like a ship in the ocean, its directional and RCX controls overloaded from the blast and sending the entire corvette spinning.

Having to make use of G-Force breathing he hadn’t used since his time in training, he kept himself awake and began to manually right the craft using it’s back up controls. He glanced at the sensor read out as the Finch began to settle. The Z-95s were all gone, a large debris field being their collective remains. The both of the nearest CR-70s had taken a good amount of the blast and were themselves breaking up with hulls venting atmo and pirate corpses spinning in the void.

The Finch was in bad order. Her automatic RCX system was gone, shields recharging, hull was damaged and hyperdrive inoperable temporarily. He took a breath and called out to Kalis. “You alive, mando?”

Kalis let out a pained groan as she brought a hand to her head, hoping that the disorientation brought about by being violently jostled in her seat would soon pass. She had strapped herself into the chair as soon as they had started to take serious fire, but the kriffing seismic charge--as that was the only armament that could have caused that kind of detonation--had rocked her world and slammed her helmeted head back against the chair she sat in.

“Just barely, Doc,” she said as she unbuckled herself from the chair, standing and leaning her hand against the upper console to steady herself. She hated ship combat, and this whole thing was just reinforcing her deep-seated hatred.

“Now we need to hurry and fortify this thing against a boarding action. Your ship’s dead in the water, Doc,” she informed him as she made her way out of the bridge and towards the airlock, trusting that her escort would have enough sense to follow her lead in this matter. He was CorNav, and she gave naval supremacy to him any day of the week.

But if you wanted to survive a firefight? Call a Mando.

There was a large piece of durasteel plating that had fallen from the ceiling near the port airlock--the only one that wasn’t currently exposed to space and blocked off by a foot-thick durasteel bulkhead.

“Here we go,” she muttered to herself as she reached down and lifted the plating up, the muscles in her arms bulging as she handled the heavy plating before she wedged it into the corridor about ten feet back in a vague approximation of a chest-high wall. She took careful time gathering debris, motioning for the doctor to assist her in setting up a small barricade to prevent the pirates and slavers from advancing any further into the vessel.

“My sister’s gonna be here in a bit, we’ve just got to hold them here,” she informed him as she reached onto her belt, pulling out what looked like two diodes and magnetizing them onto either side of the corridor leading to their barricade before arming them, causing the air to be filled with a high-pitched electrical hum.

He had dashed after her, rifle in hand and a pile of cartridges in the other. Once the barricade was set up, he steadied the rifle barrel on the edge of the rough metal and began to load the cartridges in one after another until he had filled it’s magazine. Checking his DL-18, he smiled at her. “Yea, yea lets hope she gets here in time, i’ve only got around 10 rounds for this rifle.”

His remark was followed by the tell tale sounds of an airlock door being forced open and the ship’s atmosphere being equalized. Throwing the bolt on his rifle, he centered the sights on the airlock door and waited.

Then, a flash from the other side, the faintest of shadows through the windows, and then it opened. Ziam emptied his lung, steadied the sight, and squeezed the trigger. The rifle kicked and a rather loud Crack rang out as the weapon fired, sending a bimetallic slug down the hull. It impacted the first Pirate nearly dead center in the forehead carving a nice hole in his head and immediately killing him. His nearest comrade behind him took the slug to the upper chest, causing him to scream out and fall back. The door way was now choked with two bodies, one still screaming and flailing at the sight of the back of his friend’s skull missing, and the initial wave of slavers stopped dead in their tracks.

Kalis grinned behind her helmet at the sight of the first of the slavers falling almost immediately, though she kept both of her DL-44’s trained on the doorway where the pained screaming of the second slaver was still sounding. The damage that slug throwers did was no joke--it definitely served to be on this side of one if it was going to be on the battlefield.

The next one to force his way through, stumbling over his two comrades that were clogging up the doorway, was a fat Gamorrean who held a massive, two handed axe in his hands.

Two heavy blaster bolts slammed into each of his beady little eyes, cooking and vaporizing the slaver’s skull and leaving his fat body jerking incoherently as it fell to the floor, still twitching as if it hadn’t quite realized that it was dead yet.

Another pirate, a Zygerrian, got it into his head to rush past the bodies of his comrades and into the hall in an attempt at overwhelming their defensive position. He was rewarded for his efforts by her shock mines activating and arcing powerful lances of electricity between them and through him, sending his entire body into powerful seizures that were accompanied by audible cracks.

That would be his bones breaking under the strain of his uncontrollable muscle spasms.

“This the best you got? We can do this all day, kriffing hut'uun,” she called out, hoping to at least cause the rest of them to hesitate. They needed to buy as much time as possible.

Ziam suppressed an urge to laugh at the Mando’s...at Kalis’s insult and kept his eyes on the door and the quickly piling up mass of bodies at the door. He threw the bolt and steadied the rifle once again as yet another slaver stepped through the door a few moments later. He emptied his lung, steadied the sight, and squeezed the trigger.

Crack, followed by a wet splatter of blood and tissue, then the momentary wailing of a rodian before he fell to the floor and stopped moving.

Then a few moments of silence before a small object flew through the doorway and landed a few feet inside the hall. Ziam ducked for cover shortly before a resounding bang echoed through the hall and shook the doctor a good bit. However, beyond a ringing in his ears, ziam shouldered the rifle again and cycled the bolt action once again.

Now he was pissed. “Still alive, frackwhits!” As if to punish his defiance, a second object was thrown in the door and Ziam dove once again. A second Bang and the distinctive sounds of metal fragments impacting and ricocheting around the hall as lighting fixtures and holopanels were destroyed. Emergency lighting kicked in, but did barely much to keep the hall well lit at any point.

Then, as if a sudden cosmic punch from whatever forces may be slammed into his head and he fell back against the wall. He reached up and felt his head, feeling blood and almost panicked. His training kicked in and he found himself scrambling for his weapon. Finding it, he shakily shouldered it and reached forward to flip through the low light vision options on the sight.

Kalis’s helm filtered out the flashbang’s effects, momentarily rendering her deaf to protect her from the loud explosion and the visor completely filtering out the bright flash. The frag grenade didn’t even make her flinch, even when she felt a few pieces of shrapnel bounce off of her Beskar’gam.

“That all you got, hut'uun?”

Meanwhile, in the void of space, the pristine starscape was suddenly disrupted by a series of hyperspace arrivals. Two Keldabe-Class battleships, accompanied by a Venator-Class Star Destroyer, leapt into real space and immediately began steaming towards the debris field that surrounded the Jade Finch. The Venator’s top armor panel split as the battle group made its way towards them, and a cloud of fighter craft, a mixture of A-Wing interceptors and X-Wings, poured from the vessel.

On the bridge of the lead Keldabe, the Darasuum, Imdube stood with her arms crossed and stared out of the view port at the Cruiser and the small frigate that had dared to come after her sister. She wore full plate Beskar’gam that went unpainted, allowing the armor to shine a bright silver that reflected everything around it. A dark cape was draped over her shoulders, and she wore a helm that completely covered her face.

“Hail them,” she ordered, waiting until she got the all clear from her communications officer before she began. “This is Imdube of clan Stinn, representing the Mandalorian Confederation. I’m going to give you one chance to surrender, because I’m feeling generous. If you do not take it, I will destroy you.”

The hall went quiet, save for the wailing of the still wounded team mate. Ziam solved this with one last round, causing a second splatter of blood to paint the walls of his ship. Then, funnily enough, more forms stepped through the door way and Ziam readied his rifle once again.

“W-we surrender! the mando made us!” He shot a puzzled glance at Kalis before emerging from cover, a slug rifle aimed at the voice coming from the air lock. “A-alright, come out, hands up, I see a frakin weapon and I'm putting a round through all of you!”

They did so in short order, the remaining crew of the CR-70, around a dozen or so mix of pirates and slavers, piled out with their various limbs in the air. With the Mando’s help, he slipped binder cuffs on them and locked them into an empty storage space. However, before he did so he had them strip of weapons and more importantly armor.

He then made his way to the still docked CR-70 and accessed their navicomputer. He wasn’t a slicer by any means but they hadn’t password protected the damn thing, though they had reset it to its factory condition. He locked it with a password as well as doing so with the smaller corvettes controls, firmly placing the ship under his command.

Sitting down on the still smoking bridge of the Finch and keyed open his communications suit. After a moment, the armored form of Imdube Stinn flickered to life opposite the bloodied and battered face of Ziam Cyrus.

“Ah, good to finally meet you, Lady Stinn. Your sister and the Data she carries is safe and sound, just as our contract specified. I’d be happy to transfer them both over upon arrival to a port of your choosing.”

“Good man, Doctor Cyrus. Tell you what--keep the ship. You deserve it after all the trouble you went through to fulfill the contract,” Imdube responded, before turning her attention to her sister. “You alright, Kalis?”

“I’m fine. Ready to get off this bloody ship and back to Manda'yaim,” she responded, finally removing her helm. “Gonna take a lot more than some slaver scum to bring down a Mando’a, you know that vode.”

The sisters both smiled, knowing that the other was safe, and as the CR-70 towed the Jade Finch towards the Mandalorian battle group, they began to joke with each other as if they had never left each other’s side.

Ziam listened in idly as he went about attempting to fix several busted and fried systems in the bridge and couldn’t help but finally relax for the first time since they had started on their journey.

Just what had he gotten himself into?

[Parcia]

Mandel Motors Orbital anchorage, Mandalore
Bridge of the Jade Finch

"Droyk!" bleated the good doctor as he accidentally shocked him self as he tried to re-wire a console panel. After being towed to Mando'a space by the CR-70 prize he captured, he had sold the thing and reaped nearly 950,000 credits after paying for fees and what not. They mando'a were warriors at heart, but they also knew how conduct business.

The women next to him was a twi'lek, a cute one too, perhaps in her late late teens or early 20s. A timid thing, she had been a freshly caught slave he had found in the cargo bay of the CR-70 that he and Kalis had searched and cleared along side a team of Mando'a commandos. The Twi'lek, Sara, was currently trying to help him re-wire the console panel. She wasn't a professional, but her hands were slimmer and more agile then his and so when she accepted his offer to work on his ship, he had put her to work doing basic electronics repair and refitting.

She had a nack for it. He had extended the same offer to them all, around two dozen of them yet she had been the only one out of the bunch to accept it. She was cute, a little flirtatious, and a welcomed pair of hands.

His mind drifted off to the events he had in plan. He had already found and paid for a secured, higher class storage facility for him to operate one and already had most of his most important and valuable artifacts off loaded there for the time being. He had also already searched up and paid for a secure data archive to be installed in his storage space and had already backed up his archives there.

Leaving Sara on the bridge, and hearing her giggle at another flirtatious joke in Twi-leki. He made his way down the corridor to his personal office (he slept on the bridge as a necessity, having to wake up every hour to check gravitational drift) he kept an actual, proper king sized bed and office space in a compartment down the hall from the bridge.

It was covered in documents, papers, maps, old texts, rubbings of old runes. To say it was a testament to his research, the better part of a decade's worth of research in to the Jedi and the Sith. Sure, his thesis dissertation had been had been on the relationship in with both groups had with the Old Republic and it's remnant, but his true passion was unwrapping the mysteries of the force. He flicked on a desk lamp and sat down at his work station.

On it, in a home made cradle, was a long cylindrical object. It was rusty, old, perhaps 2300 years old if his estimations were correct. He needed time to clean it, to dislodge and strip it of it's internals and see if he could get the thing to work. He retrieved a pair of optical lenses and put them on, needing the extra level of detail and the intelligent Head's up display starting him back at were he left off.

He was engrossed in his work, so much so that he didn't notice a shift in the air. He was busy slowly and gently cleaning off the rust and grime with a sonic brush. His largest problem came from getting the end cap off, as it seemed like the thing wasn't welded or screwed up, it seemed like the metals were fused together at the atomic level, as if the person who constructed this artifact had actually willed the metals to fuse.

Then, a shift in the air again and this time he almost sensed it. He turned, quietly clutching the DL-18 as it sat in his holster as he spied the closed door to his office.

[Newrey]

Jedha, Eoktarr
Day 67 of the Conquest, aboard LAAT gunship Sabacc

Eoktarr had only been to Jedha twice. Once, when he was a Padawan, just under two centuries ago, and even then he had felt the power of the Force on this desert planet. The towering statues of ancient Jedi who's names had long since passed into legend or obscurity had been imprinted so strongly in his mind that he found himself comparing the other countless Jedi statues to them. The Battle of Jedha was the second time, and his return has just as eventful.

Breaking through the Jedhan fleet had was supposed to be easy, but had dragged on for far too long and at two great a cost. The cold sense of death still clung in the back of Eoktarr's mind, the sight of those frozen bodies, floating aimlessly through space was something he had ever wish to see, even back when he was a younger, more war-hungry Wookiee. But the strength of the Republic's naval forces had eventually won the day, and opened the way for the ground assault, which had turned into a grittier slog than even the more pessimistic commanders had expected. The week spent battling the Jedhan's in space had allowed them to prepare almost impenetrable defences, but Eoktarr had lived long enough to know they could only stand for so long. They soon began to fall, one by one, before the path was cleared to Jedha City...The Holy City.

"Commander, I'm not liking what I'm seeing" CT-1386, or Axe as he was want to name himself, reported "They're got some serious firepower along the walls, not to mention the trenches they've dug with their own emplacements to boot" his face illuminated by the blue holoprojection of the City and its defenses "Are you sure we can't hit them from orbit?"

{Certain] Eoktarr growled authoritatively [Our gunners aren't accurate enough to avoid unnecessary fire to the City. The last thing we need is an angry populace]

"I think they're already angry, General" Axe muttered, putting on his helmet, customised to have his name across the right temple. Axe, like all the men of the 33rd Strike Battalion, were familiar with Shyriiwook, the only language Eoktarr could communicate in, and had been trained specifically to serve under him. Though he disliked the way it seemed to exclude himself from serving with the other men under his command, it was a necessity to work with those that understood him.

[Then we'd best not antagonise them further] Eoktarr stroked his chin, deep in thought. The City was a tough nut to crack, sitting high upon a rocky outcrop, protected on all sides by sloped rocky hills that provided little opportunity to scale, while the outcrop itself was sat on the edge of a deep sandy valley, itself surrounded by meandering dry valleys. Breaking through the valley defences led only to two options, either an assault through the single entrance that lead up to the city gates, or attempt to scale the imposing walls, even then they'd have to fight through the tight, snaking streets of the packed city. Not a pleasant fight either way. [It's far too late to discuss these things, we must have faith in the plan and in the Force]

"Aye, Sir, as we always do" Axe replied, fingering with his jet pack "It's just been a while since we've done something this crazy"

[I would have thought you'd be thrilled with the audacious plan]

"I am General" the doors of the LAAT slid open, letting the bright light flood into the dark compartment andrevealing the air chock-full with anti-aircraft blasts "This is just more crazy than usual"

[Then I hope it does not overwhelm you] Eoktarr growled back over the sound of battle. Below, the ground was alight with activity. Eoktarr had had his artillery fire continuously on the Jedhan trenches, keeping them suppressed with their rain of fire, allowing the air forces to fly within range, both bombers, and fighters, to be able hit the Jedhan positions, while the majority of his infantry and armoured forces attacked. Meanwhile, a number of LAATs bypassed the maze of defences and would drop the directly into the city. The LAAT closest to them erupted into a ball of flame, plummeting quickly towards the ground as the force of the explosion blew through the compartment. Eoktarr felt himself pushed back slightly while his troopers stumbled violently.

"Is this our stop, General?" Axe asked, and Eoktarr let out a laugh, nodding. Almost excitedly, Axe cheered his men on before leaping out the the side, with the rest of his men following. As if on cue, the sight of hundreds of the white armoured clones leapt from their LAATs, quickly descending upon the besieged city, blaster fire filling the air. Eoktarr took a deep breath, centring himself, allowing a calm to wash over him. He stepped out of the LAAT and fell quickly. He extended his arms and legs out, feeling himself gain control over the descent, his sharp eyes took in the view beneath him. It was a hodgepodge of designs, some buildings were square and squat, while others had golden domes that glittered in the harsh sun. He spotted his target, the city walls themselves. It was a small target, but with the Force he guided himself towards it. He pushed out quickly, coming to a stop just above the walls itself before dropping to his feet. He ignited his saber, it's blue light almost drowned out by the sun, but the distinctively deep hum stood out amongst the sound of blaster. He had landed amongst a group of soldiers who stood in shock at the giant Wookiee that had fallen from the sky. Unlike them, Eoktarr did not hesitate. He slashed out quickly, bisecting two of them before they had even realised what had happened before pushing another off the side with the force. Some of the men had regain their bearings and began firing, Eoktarr blocked the blasts expertly before throwing the his saber outwards with the force, its ruthless spinning arc cutting down four before he called it back. His comlink crackled to life;

"General, Axe here, Jedhan's weren't expecting visitors this soon. Walker's reported two arms caches just lying in the open."

[Good, Commander, we must maintain this momentum. Push on to the mortar's at Sector 2.3, I will meet you there] Eoktar growled back, blocking bolts as he spoke. Axe gave gave an affirmation and turned his comlink off. Soon, a number of clones had fallen on his position from above, joining the fight. Blue bolts soon began to outnumber the red, forcing the Jedhans back bit by bit. Across the city, portions of the wall began to fall to the aerial invaders, while street battles began to erupt. He signled for a number of troopers to take control of the cannons that sat upon the wall, directing them to fire upon the Jedhan's own lines on the ground below. The sky above them had begun to be choked with smoke, a dark shadow being cast by it. He ordered the clones to hold the position before leaping off the walls, into the city, landing amongst a squad of his men.

"Fine landing, General" one of them joked, his voice crackling through the helmet, Eoktarr nodded in recognition;

[Your objective, men?] he asked

"Already taken, General, we're moving to reinforce Axe's squad, he's run into trouble taking the mortars at 2.3" the officer responded

[The Force guides you, I'm heading the same way]

"Perfect timing then, you'd probably need the backup" the officer replied, before ordering his men forwards, Eoktarr taking the lead. They'd found Axe's squad by pinned down the street from the square that held the mortar position.

"Good to see you, General, Jedhans aren't too keen on losing the mortars" Axe reported in, shouting from the opposing side of the street "Not enough men for a frontal assault, street's too damn tight to make use of the numbers even if I had them"

[Then we must improvise] Eoktarr replied, darting across the road to meet Axe. He continued on for a few houses before arriving at one that suited him. Using the force, Eoktarr forced a door from its hinges and stepped into the building, his body hunched over to accommodate his massive size. He used his saber, cutting a hole through the building's walls, pushing it with the force, revealing the square. He stepped through and grabbed a Jedhan that had been near the intrustion, throwing him violently across the square and into a number of his comrades. Eoktarr let out a roar before charging forwards, followed by a number of his cheering clones. He descended upon the enemy with a controlled aggression he had worked hard to practice with. A step too far in this state would lean too heavily into the Dark Side, which he had no intention of doing. It wasn't long before the square had fallen to them, alongside the mortars, which he had his men commandeer, launching strikes on positions across the City whenever it was called in.

The City fell within the hour, its defenders morale beaten by the unstoppable rampage of the Clone advance, and in turn the Valley below surrendered, surrounded on all sides by the Republic. Even the staunchest defenders knew they were beaten. Axe found Eoktarr standing on the City walls, a number of holoprojections of his Jedi commanders standing in the circle.

"-urgent activity is likely to rise in response to this defeat" on of the Jedi, a Delphidian, said.

[It is to be expected, Rikig, but a contingent of soldiers will remain behind to ensure a relatively peaceful transfer] Eoktarr growled in response, before noticing Axe's arrival [CT-1386, the casualty reports?]

"Yes General...uhhh...Generals" he answered, stepping forwards "They're high, but not intolerable. It will take time for the forces involved to recover, but the Fleet as a whole is still operational"

"That is unneeded, the 2nd Fleet is being reassigned to recruitment duties" another Jedi said, a Togruta this time. Eoktarr had clearly not been expecting this news;

[Is this necessary? The Fleet is still combat operational, recruitment can't be so important with the Tithe so close] Eoktar said, his growls harsher than normal. The Holoprojections looked amongst themselves before speaking.

"It is less to do with operational capability and more of strength" a human Jedi said "With the Mandalorian Confederation splitting with us recently, and a the chaos in what was Ornitek, we require full strength Fleets to ensure the protection of the Republic."

[Wasn't Master Malogaan sent to repair our relations?]

"Indeed she was, but we cannot be too careful. Should things go south, we cannot be with Fleets lacking in fire and manpower" the Togruta spoke again. Eoktarr anger had dissipated.

[I am sorry, Masters, I was blinded by the rush of battle, I was not thinking clearly] Eoktarr apologised.

"Jedha has been a tough campaign, so there is nothing to forgive. You will go to Kuat, reinforce you ship strength" a masked Jedi said "You will receive further orders when you arrive" the projection added. The figures flickered away after bidding farewells.

"Recruitment seems like an odd assignment, so close to the Tithe" Axe said, stepping forwards and handing Eoktarr the datapad of casualties.

[It appears the Council wish for the Tithe to be bolstered by these volunteers, I do not blame them] Eoktarr, replied, scrolling through.

"Why, Sir, if I might ask?"

[This Galaxy is changing again. I saw it in the Fall of the Republic and I can see it now. Someone will try to reclaim the Republic's dominance, and the Remnant wants it to be us"

[Aserais]

Mandel Motors Orbital anchorage, Mandalore
Bridge of the Jade Finch

Then, a shift in the air again and this time he almost sensed it. He turned, quietly clutching the DL-18 as it sat in his holster as he spied the closed door to his office.

Mandel Motors Orbital anchorage, Mandalore. Bridge of the Jade Finch

"Oh, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you," Alaata Ran said as she held up both of her hands, indicating her harmless intentions. She wasn't really worried about the Doctor being able to hurt her, but she didn't want to start their relationship on the wrong foot. She had been informed by Duchess Tiva about the good doctor's recent delivery of a major Mandalorian noble back to the safety of her clan, and the Force had whispered to her that somehow, this one was important.

When she'd found out he had a ship full to bursting with ancient Jedi and Sith relics, she knew that she had to go meet the man in question herself.

She gave the Doctor a sharp-toothed grin in an attempt to put him at ease before she lowered her hands and folded them behind her back, striding into the bridge with a calm that spoke volumes of how she viewed herself. She was the most dangerous person in the room at any given moment, and she knew it--but it wasn't something she needed to show or advertise. The Togruta had corded muscle on her bare arms that spoke to decades of training, and the grey robes she wore along with the dual-bladed lightsaber on her hip left no question as to what she was.

The Jensaarai master could sense a presence within the human, though it was untrained and unrefined. The Force definitely moved through him, though how strongly could not yet be said.

Alaata walked up to the doctor and let out an interested hum as she saw the clearly ancient lightsaber on his workbench... At least, clearly to her, who had spent most of her life studying ancient relics from pre-republic Sith and Jedi. And then, her eyes alighted upon the holocron, and a truly delighted smile came upon her countenance.

"Oh dear! Now that is a rare sight. I do apologize, where are my manners. I am Saarai-Kaar Alaata Ran," she introduced herself, extending one hand for the man to shake. "It is a pleasure to meet you, mister...?"

[Parcia]

Ziam Cyrus
Ziam's nerd cave
The Jade Finch.

He was a bit taken aback at the togruta's appearance to begin with, but her introduction, and the not to subtle way she worse her dual saber, told him enough. He simultaneously relaxed and got excited, letting the pistol lay in his holster and take the Jensaarai Master's hand. "Cyrus, Ziam Cyrus, Doctor of Archaeology out of Coronet City on Corellia." He would shake her hand firmly, in the tradition he was taught. He stepped back and motioned to the room. "Forgive the mess, I was working on some leads..." She seemed to zero in on his holocron.

He turned and took it in hand. With a little effort the little box clicked open and is displayed the same static image of the old Republic as it did for Kalis. "I picked this out of a bazaar on Nar-Shadda, the fool selling it had labelled it a fake, and I bought it for maybe 30 credits. Guy really had no idea reason what he was dealing with."

He wasn't really good at reading people, so he didn't really know what she was thinking.

"As for my project over there, I had to dig that out of a solid 4 foot thick slab of granite on Jedah, not even sure if it's what I think it is."

[Lily167]

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