Star Wars: Rise of the Empire (IC)

[Rhinocera]

Empire Day

Emperor Palpatine

Emperor Palpatine stood in his private quarters, gazing out one of the windows within his Imperial Palace. A year had passed since he had so easily ripped democracy away from the galaxy and replaced it with his own imperial rule. Things had went smoothly in the first year of the Galactic Empire, as smooth as one could expect anyhow. By that, I mean they had went as jagged as you can imagine.

The Separatist remnant had endured, with Palpatine’s Admirals failing to annihilate the threat, though progress was being made. Republic loyalists, the ideological fools that they were, still polluted the ranks. Every day the intelligence apparatus of the Empire saw that their numbers diminished.

Apparently, however, at least one of the three, or perhaps a new insurgency altogether, had arisen to challenge Palpatine’s dominion. Two destroyers, valuable and powerful vessels, had been destroyed alongside their escorts. Perhaps Rayne Solengard had shown her true colors. Palpatine expected her to be a useful tool in order to keep her important sector in line without an immeasurably costly imperial presence. However, two destroyers being attacked and totally destroyed was not what Palpatine had in mind. Especially with one of the vessels having been a freshly commissioned Imperial Class Star Destroyer, a massively expensive vessel, things would have to change. He would remind her that, even as a woman of consequence in the outer-rim, she was nothing in the galactic picture. He would summon her, to Coruscant. She would, of course, make herself available. If she chose not to, then her reign over the aurora sector would come to an end and the deal of relative autonomy that she had struck with the Empire would be replaced by one of absolute servitude.

He had other ideas on how to deal with the incidents in the Aurora sector, but such matters were beneath him. A meeting with Solengard was as much time as he could spare on the matter. He would defer the rest to an underling, one who he believed to be capable of delivering a solution to the issue without further complication.

The Aurora incidents aside, it was Empire day. One hear exactly had passed since his ascension to absolute power. In the eyes of the public, things were better than they had been in decades if not centuries. The occasional atrocity here and there were carefully covered up, the media was censored to ensure a positive light, and the galaxy was at peace. Palpatine moved out to his balcony, clad in his Imperial robes, flanked by his top advisors, as the cameras rolled. His speech would be seen by billions. No, it would be seen by trillions.

“Citizens of the Galactic Empire, it has been one year since the treacherous Jedi plotted to against you. Democratically, I was placed in the chancellorship, to guide the Republic through a time of great crisis. Their grab for power left me scarred, but I maintained my resolve, as did you all. We endured and we have prospered. Together, we threw down the corrupt shackles of the Republic and now we flourish in a new age that will not be defined by war and corruption. An age of peace, an age of prosperity, the age of the Galactic Empire!!!”

With that, the cameras stopped. His speech, one of the few public appearances he elected to make, was met with raucous applause across the galaxy. Of course there would be those who watched with disdain and hate, who cheered through clenched teeth. However, the Empire was still popular to the public, a public that had tired of the Republic’s relentless inaction and indecisiveness. His words would feed their budding love for the Empire, quenching their thirst to be part of something greater than themselves.

To: Lord High Commissioner Rayne Solengard
From: Sate Pestage, Grand Vizier of the Empire
Encryption: Top Secret

Lord High Commissioner,

The recent irregularities in your sector have garnered the attention of his Imperial Majesty. You are expected at the capital within two weeks. Upon your arrival the Emperor will meet with you at his earliest convenience. We look forward to your arrival. The Emperor would appreciate that this be done with a great deal of discretion, he would prefer that this meeting not become general knowledge. Please take the necessary precautions to ensure such. We hope you have an uneventful and safe voyage.

- Sate Pestage, Grand Vizier of the Empire

[Plzen]

Rayne Solengard
Free City of Soundstead, Lystena, Aurora system, Auroran Sector

This... this is a joke, right?

I was at an utter loss for words.

That senile fool! What is he thinking!?!

The Sector was in a minor crisis since the ambush a few days ago, dissent seems to have been emboldened, there was a new ISB Section Chief to settle in, spacers were feeling cautious at increasingly dangerous trade and supply routes, and in the midst of all this the Emperor proposes to have me - the lynchpin holding this house of cards together - decamp on my base of support for weeks, unable to affect things here?

And, what, prevent the meeting from becoming general knowledge? And, pray tell, exactly how was I going to manage that? Since the Emperor dissolved the Sector government all the press and media in the Sector had looked to me for leadership. Going missing for a week was bound to provoke rumours, and certainly all the people with whom I had scheduled meetings that would now have to be cancelled were going to demand explanations.

I am a civil servant, not an intelligence officer. "Sorry, matter of state security" was not going to cut it as an excuse, either for the press, the public, or my partners.

Not to mention, if I couldn't make this an official state visit and had to visit unofficially... well, the optics of that was not good. If I was seen as being too familiar to the Emperor himself... well, that was bound to raise questions among the more pro-Republican sections of Auroran society, right at the moment when they've been emboldened by the success of the Resistance near my Sector...

sigh...

I had to calm down. Being upset solved nothing. What was the Emperor's angle in all this? It was possible that he was simply unaware of any of these circumstances and was merely calling me over to discuss recent issues in my Sector, but I couldn't count on that. I had to prepare for the possibility that he had a more sinister objective in mind. It wasn't like I had any choice about whether to attend - if the Emperor called, you went, and if you couldn't go, you did whatever you needed to in order to make yourself able.

One potential - and perhaps obvious - angle was trying to keep my civil service on the back foot and give the new ISB Section Chief a chance to establish the political superiority of the military and the intelligence service over the civilian government in my Sector. If it was the Emperor's intention to see me and my civil service sidelined in Auroran politics... well, he has quite another thing coming.

To defend against this sort of attack, I had to do two things. I had to prevent the military and the intelligence service from being freed up to act without the cooperation of the civil service, and I had to prevent the civil service from being compliantly suborned into cooperation.

The latter would be far easier than the former. Bureaucracy is quite a strange beast, very unlike the decisive and charismatic personages of the judiciary or the military. The more it is pressed, the more resistant to change and unorthodoxy it becomes as everyone starts being more risk-averse and concerned about covering their behinds with the security of established procedures and rules of order. If I write my instructions in such a way as to make it very clear that the civil service would be responsible for acting decisively in my absence, but leave it unclear exactly who within the civil service is going to be charged with doing so, and make sure the leadership has plenty of inoffensive second-rate issues to deal with, I can basically guarantee that the civil service will be paralysed to the extent that no external actor, not even the ISB Section Chief, would be able to pry into it without doing something obviously outside of his authorised powers.

And, more importantly, I can do that without stepping a single inch out of line. That was important, what with the potential consequences of the Emperor's ire being utterly devastating.

As for the former... well, I'd have to put someone good in charge of contact between the civil service and Imperial Security, as well as between the civil service and the Comporellon garrison. I've been quite content with the decently competent but very unimaginative and to-the-book clerks I've put in charge of those roles. After all, being responsible for communications between this Sector and institutions of the greater Galactic Empire could be played into an incredibly powerful position indeed, and I was not terribly enthusiastic to raise potential competitors when my position as petty-dictator of the civil service was still shaky.

But if the Emperor really was intent on weakening the civil service - and I couldn't assume otherwise - then that state of things could no longer stand. I'd have to bite the bullet and send someone savvy, not just competent, to take over those positions. Hmm... if I remember correctly I think my twin sister Rosier was sort of between positions right now, what with her seat on the Parliament no longer being meaningful.

I'd have to make sure that the Sector continues to be ungovernable without the administrative resources of the Sector, and make sure said resources remain tightly bound to the civil service. Separating the records of the Sector Police and the Revenue Service away from centralised bureaus towards their local sections and subordinate institutions would be a good start. What else... I'll have to think about this.

Of course, in every crisis there was an opportunity, and so there was in this. The Senator for Aurora... well, being several days' journey out from Aurora quite beyond the reach of the civil service and Soundstead's intrigues, and with his chain of command being made quite unclear thanks to the Sector government being dissolved, that old fossil of a Senator has developed something of an independent streak, voting on issues however he felt like voting on them. If I was going to visit Coruscant anyways, I might as well take the opportunity to see the Senator's independence crushed.

I wrote myself a quick draft of the response I would be sending back to Coruscant that afternoon, confirming that I will be on the planet and ready to meet the Emperor in a week's time. The affairs of State never waited, and especially not during these turbulent times.

[Beutarch]

Ryder Charon | Inside the Aurora Sector

The troopship fell out of Hyperspace with a jolt, ending the Chief's otherwise undisturbed sleep. The shuttle's pilot and navigator, however, had not been unconscious. On the contrary, they had been warned several hours ago that a convoy had been intercepted and annihilated to a man, just a couple systems away from their intended destination, and shortly after that, another ship had been blasted in two, less than a jump away. Through the open cabin door, Charon could see the navigator nervously checking the sensor readout every few minutes. The other agents wore various levels of concern on their faces, ranging from a keen sense of dread occupying the mind of one of the junior analysts to the seemingly uncaring gaze of the Clones' visors. The Sentinel-class was a military vessel, and consequently was heavily armed, but each of the passengers knew that the shuttle's 8 cannons were pea-shooters compared to whatever tore those Destroyers apart. The hold stood silent as the ship completed the last leg of its journey, at sub-light speeds.

As the vessel entered the outer reaches of the eponymous Auroran System, a handful of ARC-170s joined the shuttle on its final approach to Comporellon. It was a token gesture on the part of the garrison's commanding officer, but a welcome one. Despite this, Charon could not help but notice the state of the fighters. Unlike the pristine machines he had seen on display during the lead up to the Empire Day celebrations on Coruscant, the fighters outside the shuttle's porthole were marred by years of battle. The Empire's forces were stretched thin, sparing factory-new fighters to garrison a friendly world was not economical. The only attempts to cover up the ships' scratches and burn marks were the hastily applied Imperial insignia adorning the fighters' wings and nose. Red Republic roundels painted over with new, grey Imperial ones.

As the shuttle and its escorts touched down on the planet, it became clear that the garrison was much the same. References to the Jedi were aggressively scrubbed out of nose-art on walkers and ships in the hangar bay, COMPNOR-issued propaganda material practically dripped off of the walls and the bright reds and deep blacks of the posters contrasted with the stark white of the troops' new Stormtrooper armor. Though the troops were almost all Clones and veterans of the war with the Separatists to boot, the base's commander was a standard human. According to records Charon had dredged up before he went to sleep, this 'Commander Brampton' had been some sort of strongman and political commissar within the Commission for the Preservation of the New Order -- since before there had been a New Order. Prior to that, he had been a junior officer in the defense force of an Inner Rim world, the justification for his sudden promotion. Suffice it to say that the man's most redeeming quality was his loyalty to the regime.

As he and his men disembarked from the troopship, he saluted and exchanged pleasantries with the Commander. Under normal circumstances, establishing a strong relationship with the man would be near the top of Charon's to-do list. Right up there with recruiting informants among the troops and beginning to dissect and infiltrate the foreign mass of the Auroran Civil Service. But, Charon was not operating under 'normal' circumstances. Two Star Destroyers had disappeared within the same sector, the incidents just hours apart. Star Destroyers. Such things do not just disappear.

Charon declined an offer of eating dinner with the Commander, suggesting that the two men convene at another time. Instead, he asked to be directed to his new quarters.

---

Comporellon

The base lacked a proper interrogation room, but Charon's new office would serve the purpose just as well. Devoid of personal effects and rather spartan in terms of furnishing, the room was about as good as he could ask for. Throw in the attached sleeping quarters, and it was almost a dream come true. The Section Chief, however, expected another sleepless night. He had given his men a half hour to get settled, before the Tactical Unit was to become acquainted with the grunts, the analysts were to set up their equipment and the agents were to locate anyone who knew anything about the raids.

ISB WITNESS REPORT
CONFIDENTIAL MATERIAL ENCLOSED

Subject: Incident Aurora-1.1, Incident Aurora-1.2
Interviewer: Section Chief R. Charon, ISB-043
Interviewee: TK-161

---

SC: Please identify yourself for the record, trooper.

TK-161: Imperial Stormtrooper, TK-161, sir. Aurora Garrison. I was working in Communications at the time when it is believed the first convoy was intercepted.

SC: Did you notice anything abnormal while you were at your station?

TK-161: Negative. I was not even aware that the Challenger was in our operational area until after it was attacked.

SC: Why were you not made aware of the Challenger's course?

TK-161: The convoy was under orders to fly silent. I believe it is standard practice to only signal upon departure and arrival, for such vessels. Besides those messages, the ship is to remain dead quiet the whole trip. It did, however, send out an SOS. That message was delayed, likely by electronic interference. Only got through after the ship was lost, part of the communications array was severed from the bridge at some point during the engagement. That's how we were able to get a timeline together, dispatch a relief ship to survey the situation.

SC: Based on what you heard, what was the situation like?

TK-161: It was cleanly done. The smaller ships were blasted to bits, the Challenger was disabled and then disposed of. Likely chewed up into bite-sized pieces before they got thrown into the nearest gravity well. As far as I am aware, there were no survivors. Just debris that the attackers figured were too unrecognizable or too insignificant to warrant disposal.

SC: One of the relief ships that was sent to the site of the first incident was similarly attacked. This ship was not under orders to remain tight-lipped, yes?

TK-161: That's correct. The Redemption was able to give us a little more detail on their troubles. I am told 3 Venator-class ships assaulted it, sporting Republic livery. They didn't make any attempt to obfuscate their assault, relying on superior firepower and surprise to do the job. It's likely that we would have been able to reinforce her, had her Hyperspace drive not been destroyed during the fight. The attackers jumped into Hyperspace following the Redemption's destruction, likely deeper into the Outer Rim. They did a much sloppier job than the first one. I'd be surprised if they're the same band of pirates. But, then again, I'd also be surprised that there were two bands of pirates in this shithole of a Sector.

SC: That will be all. Your cooperation is appreciated.

END OF FILE

ISB WITNESS REPORT
CONFIDENTIAL MATERIAL ENCLOSED

Subject: Incident Aurora-1.1, Incident Aurora-1.2
Interviewer: Section Chief R. Charon, ISB-043
Interviewee: LAS-534 (Note: Interview conducted remotely)

---

SC: Thank you for speaking with me, Sergeant. Please state your operating number and station, for the record.

LAS-534 Of course. My number's LAS-534. Sergeant Walton Anders, I'm a technician with Logistics and Supply.

SC: I understand that the Challenger was in possession of valuable cargo, requiring complete silence during transit.

LAS-534 That's correct. After the incident, I was able to access the convoy's manifest. It was carrying supplies for a new outpost. Pre-fab buildings, ground-to-air turbolasers, plenty of spare durasteel plating, the works. After I received your request, I did a little more digging, but I wasn't able to find out what the purpose of the shipment was. That part's been scrubbed from the record. As far as the L&S systems are concerned, its destination is empty.

SC:Thank you for going the extra mile. But, if you were not originally privy to information concerning the Challenger's destination and contents, who would have been?

LAS-534: Somebody had to process the request for material. Could've been the Requisitions Officer here at the regional facilities, or it could've been one of the bigwigs from the Imperial Center. Besides that, security's usually pretty tight. Your raiders would have had to know about the ship's course prior to the attack to sneak up on 'em like that.

LAS-534: For that matter, it'd take a lot of effort to take down a Star Destroyer. Unless those bastards managed to take down the ship from the inside, somehow, they would've had to bring a hell of a lot of firepower with them. It's real hard to refuel and rearm a battle-group without somebody taking notice. Hell, even without all the paperwork we have to go through, it'd still be a royal pain to gather up enough hypermatter to keep things running smoothly.

SC: As for the second incident, are you aware of any errant Venator-class ships reported near the sector?

LAS-534: Venators? No. The Navy's staffed by Clones and the Admiralty's stuffed with Imperial diehards. The only way pirates could get their hands on a warship like that would be through a connection on Kuat, or from one of the Planetary Defense Forces. Needless to say, I would not be aware of any backroom dealings happening in the Drive Yards, and the records surrounding individual planets are shoddy. We've got enough problems keeping our own ships fueled and fed. The concept of a PDF was already obsolete by the beginning of the Clone Wars, not many planets maintain anything bigger than a police force.

LAS-534: Same as what I said before, however. Venators are recognizable. They'll have to stop for rations and fuel somewhere, and people'll take notice.

SC: Thank you once again, Sergeant. Your cooperation is appreciated.

END OF FILE

ISB WITNESS REPORT
CONFIDENTIAL MATERIAL ENCLOSED

Subject: Incident Aurora-1.1, Incident Aurora-1.2
Interviewer: Section Chief R. Charon, ISB-043
Interviewee: TK-909

---

SC: Greetings, trooper. Please state your operating number and station.

TK-909: TK-909, I'm a member of Auxiliary Repair Crew 63 here on the base.

SC: Your team was among the first to respond to the incident involving the Challenger, correct?

TK-909: Yes, sir.

SC: Please describe what you saw.

TK-909: Well, they had us suit up in the transport. Once we got out the door, there wasn't really much to see. The Challenger, well, it practically wasn't there.

SC: Wasn't there?

TK-909: Parts of the debris field were obviously from a Star Destroyer, but the hull itself was missing. Pieces blown off by turbo-laser fire. The shuttle's sensors were able to make out some larger chunks of the thing inside the pull of a nearby planet -- nothing salvageable. Everything was done methodically, anything of value taken, anything we might use to identify the enemy thrown into the planet. It was easier to identify the site by the bodies than the debris. Plenty of those. The crews were vented.

SC: You were not able to determine what attacked the ship?

TK-909: We were not. But, well.. <pause> Well, no, we were not able to determine what attacked the ship.

SC: Withholding information from an agent of the Security Bureau is a criminal offense.

TK-909: Right, right, of course.

SC: Do you have a working theory of what attacked the ship?

TK-909: Well, uh, I did see something.

SC: What was it?

TK-909: A husk that wasn't dragged into the gas giant. Only half of one, anyhow. Torn in two by a lucky laser-cannon salvo. The one side was pretty badly melted, but if you ignored that and if you were able to stitch the front plate back together and fix the legs back together. Well, if you did all that, it would almost look like a Vulture droid.

SC: Separatist hardware?

TK-909: Like you said, it's the ... working theory.

END OF FILE

Another day's work, another set of questions served alongside unsatisfactory answers. It was evident that the attacks were carried out by separate entities. One, obviously some sort of Republican remnant. The other, potentially Separatist in nature. Or, at least, having possession of Separatist equipment. Both groups posed great threats to the integrity of the Auroran Sector, and given ample time and resources, potentially threatened the Empire itself. The situation could quickly spiral out of control, should the Empire not be able to get ahead of it in time. Charon lacked much information: exact ship numbers, locations and next moves, but what he did know, however, was that the garrison was currently ill-equipped to defend itself against either one of the enemy fleets. His investigation would have to continue, but he needed to get the wheels of Imperial military bureaucracy turning as soon as he could.

His office emptied of interviewees, he touched the holoprojector build into his desk, calling the garrison's Commander.

"Brampton. I'm sending my reports through to you now. The situation is much worse than I had anticipated, get a message through to your people in High Command, I'm doing the same for mine. We're going to need more guns and ships."

[G-Tech Corporation]

High Orbit, Enarc Commercial Rigging, Enarc, Alui Sector, Mid Rim

The transition back to realspace came with a barely perceptible jolt, the Rampant flashing in behind her escorts above the yellow-gray jewel that was the tradeworld of Enarc. Tiberius hardly looked up from his Cauthian mulled wine as he perused the daily orders, momentarily noting the lurid luster of the polluted industrial center. Enarc had been, until recently, the site of major Trade Federation operations - particularly as it related to their immense storage and distribution capabilities that they used to manipulate the galactic markets and turn the best profit.

Times were changing. The gantry that the Rampant's escorts were pulling up alongside had been meticulously turned out in Imperial gray, and bore the emblems of the First Galactic Empire in exacting detail. No doubt the dignitaries in the arcologies that studded the surface had been very interested in ensuring the visiting fleet was aware that their loyalties did not lie with the deposed Customs Vizier. Indicating otherwise would have been... foolhardy in light of the sheer destructive power that orbited their world.

Not that Tiberius was normally in the business of incinerating civilians and valuable industrial infrastructure over power squabbles. That was a matter for diehards, and the Fleet already had far too many of those for her own good. The worth of a world like Enarc could be scarcely be calculated as a distribution center out here on the Mid Rim, and the scion of Kuat would happily space a hundred Nemoidian dignitaries, a thousand before he resorted to the destruction of so much useful logistical framework.

The buzzer at the entrance to his chambers sounded, and automatically the faux-window through which he had viewed Enarc winked out.

"Enter." spoke the Grand Admiral, dulling his viewer out of habit. None of the men who had access to his chambers were the type to snoop for information, but the daily orders and reports distributed to a man of his position were of sufficiently sensitive character that it would no do for almost any other officer aboard the immense floating fortress to view them. That would lead to unfortunate court-martials, and likely a penal legion for the inadvertent viewer.

His second, Flavian, entered, and sketched a crisp salute. Tiberius straightened in his chair, returning the matter. Something formal then.

"I have a transmission from Grand Admiral Grant, sir. The Nobility just jumped in system."

Timely, Tiberius mused. He hadn't expected the other man's flotilla for another few hours. The pursuit of the fleeing Vizier must have been even less eventful than anticipated - or perhaps the Vizier just a much worse coward than even the common Nemoidian could be credited.

"Very good. I will take his call in the conference room."

Flavian nodded and departed, turning smartly on his black boots polished to a mirror finish. Some Imperial commanders were lax about the uniforms of their crew. The Grand Admiral required perfection, for as his men embodied perfection in body, they pursued perfection more fulsomely in mind and spirit. The Fleet uniform was a good outfit for such pursuits - simple to maintain, elegant, not flashy, but fully capable of cutting commanding lines where intimidating was necessary. It was like Kuat, in many ways. House Onderon might have the plumage of a tropical akaw built into every crest of their house soldiers, but it was the charcoal-sable uniforms of the Ruling Family that you had to fear, not those poppinjays.

One step, three, ten. The doors to the cool negative-pressure conference room hissed shut with a barely audible clack at the Grand Admiral's back, and he glanced about himself. No hologram stood in attendance, which cause a flicker of annoyance to stir in Tiberius' breast. Just like Octavian to ask for a response before tuning out impatiently himself. The Tapanis thought themselves lords of a little slice of the galaxy, unchallenged, though their Nine Houses together couldn't muster the force to equip a battleship. In some ways Kuat appreciated the airs of the other nobleman, but in other ways the manner in which Grant stood on circumstance and haughty propriety spoke ill of his efficacy as an officer.

It was one thing to expect implicitly to be obeyed. It was another to act in a manner to engender such loyalty.

With one hand the Grand Admiral called up the call manifests - a quick glance down the diagnostics told the story of why the other Fleet officer had ended the call. It had winked out when he had boarded a shuttle for the Rampart. Fair enough. Conversations in person were certainly more polite when in such secure position as Enarc was. There was, at this point in time, unlikely to be another such concentration of Fleet strength anywhere aside from Imperial Center.

One minute, three, ten. Finally the doors to the conference chamber opened, and the familiar visage of the white-garbed Grant stamped imperiously into the room. Tiberius strode forward, exchanging salutes with the other man, and then watched with interest the entrance of his companion - the chained Customs Vizier, flanked by two Stormtroopers with marine markings and stunners.

"Congratulations on your catch, Grand Admiral." spoke Kuat sardonically.

"And congratulations on your sterilization, Grand Admiral" intoned Grant, a wry smile twisting across his sallow complexion. Octavian looked worn from the campaign - Tiberius reminded himself that, while he had been able to snatch some hours of rest, the other man had likely not had such an opportunity. His expression softened, and he turned, gesturing towards the chair at the head of the table.

"Sit, and tell me about your catch."

Grant shook his head.

"I can rest later, though I thank you. I have it on good authority the Emperor has just concluded his Empire Day speech. What say we present him with our prize as a present for the occasion?"

Tiberius nodded, and took one of the Vizier's stick-thin green arms. Together the two white-uniformed men bodily dragged the Separatist toward the hologram platform, and Kuat entered the access codes which had been seared into his memory - those for the Emperor's audience chamber on Imperial Center.

A minute passed, and then the familiar scarred visage of Palaptine swam into view. Both men went down to one knee, dragging the Vizier between them. As a courtesy, they had agreed that Grant should speak first, for his was the glory of the capture.

"Lord Palpatine. May I present to your Imperial Majesty an Empire Day gift - the last Trade Federation Vizier, now the prisoner of your ever-victorious fleet, his own military assets captured or destroyed, along with the Alui Sector - now in full Imperial Compliance, courtesy of the labors of myself and your faithful servant, Grand Admiral Kuat."

[Cheye]

Natalya Sadaar - Orondia Station Resort - Orondia

Orondia’s ever-night sky was lit up with bright neon lights, glimmering aurebesh signs and the engines of at least a few hundred starships. As Nat’s personal shuttle carried her down to the surface, she looked upon all of this from the cockpit viewport and couldn’t help but smile. This all stood in stark contrast to the dingy little fueling station she had won in a sabacc game a little over a year ago.

As the shuttle began its approach, her amber eyes were drawn to the looming silhouette that rested on the rocky surface of Orondia behind the reinvigorated station. The Lucrehulk-class battleship dwarfed the station entirely, and its vast array of turbolasers were visible even from this altitude. She had dubbed it The Trophy, for such a vast ship would surely sit at the epicentre of her casino fleet, if only they could make it space-worthy again. The operation to haul the freighter-turned-warship’s wreck from the battlefields of Saleucami all the way to Orondia had certainly been a logistical challenge but her business partners had risen to the occasion, and now as she contemplated the various ways they could respond to Gehena’s coded message, she would need them to step up again.

Once the shuttle was on the landing pad and the hydraulic ramp had descended, she disembarked quickly, Static following in her wake. The outer walkways connecting the landing pads thrummed with activity as spacers and resort tourists alike tended to their vessels and socialised at the open-air bars and gambling stations dotted around. Weaving her way through the crowds to the doors to the central concourse, Nat spotted the small familiar form of Razius Feizir scurrying behind a slot machine. The cybernetically-enhanced Kowakian Monkey-Lizard belonged to Orondia’s resident Bounty Hunters’ Guild Rep, Jokir Vro, who had proven to be a powerful ally during the chaotic events on Orondia at the end of the war. Despite the Kowakian Monkey-Lizard’s penchant for impish behaviour, Razius’s and by extension Jokir’s presence always made Nat feel just that little bit more secure.

Entering the station’s main concourse and passing the bounty office, she caught sight of one of the viewscreens within, playing some holo-news report about Empire Day. The catchy little jingle that blared out from the holo was audible from here, and she began to hum along as she made her way to the central turbolift, 'hmm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hm-hmm, hm-hm-hm hmm-hm-hmm-hm-hmm-hm'. She shot the cantina that buzzed with chatter and pulsed with slightly more alien kinds of music a wistful glance as she went. Static entered the Turbolift behind her and then within seconds they were on the upper concourse and the spacious meeting room was in sight.

“I don’t care what you think, there’s no need to go chasing after ghosts! ‘Specially not Seperatist War Droid ghosts!” The meeting had already begun, it seemed.

Inside, the exotic array of beings that made up the Board of Sadaar Sabacc & Security sat around a sleek black meeting table in luxurious high back chairs, along with two Captains of the Casino Fleet and the holograms of three others. Other than Nat’s chair at the head of the table, only one chair sat unoccupied, and Nat knew exactly who it belonged to. Captain Sianni. The arrogant pirate couldn’t even be bothered to dial in, and would no doubt make a joke about it as soon as Nat raised his absence with him. He knew exactly how to press her buttons, always did.

“I appreciate your scepticism Kidern, but if we had adopted that attitude during the war, none of us would be sitting here right now, and half of us, yourself included, would probably be dead.” Captain Murr Udamos, the yellow-skinned Nautolan who had been Chief of Security here at the station when Nat first arrived, spoke with trademark sobriety.

“Hey… you just remember who it was what fixed up that darn warship and got us to safety in the first place!” Kidern Karak, the hulking Besalisk who had become Sadaar Sabacc & Security’s Chief Mechanic growled, crossing one set of arms and resting the other on the table.

Nat cleared her throat from the doorway.

“Commodore.” Udamos said with a polite nod as his big black eyes found her before the others did. He was about to rise from his seat in a genuine display of formality but Nat gestured for him to remain seated.

“It sounds like you’ve all started without me.” Nat mused, wiping dust from the lapels of her red jacket as she stood in the doorway.

“Well to be fair Commodore, that Separatist broadcast caught a few of us off-guard.” The hologram of Captain Vilyun Ahjilam of The Fallen Count interjected, the twi’lek leaning forward in his seat as he spoke.

“I had an inkling that the broadcast might cause a stir, even more so for those who remember Gehena’s arrival at this very station over a year ago. The droid survived not just the little skirmish here on Orondia but also the end of the war itself, and is now advertising that fact to whatever other seperatist forces are still out there… oh, and to anyone like us who’s been industrious enough to pinch a few of their ships.” Nat sighed, leaning against the doorway and folding her arms. “I guess it’s kind of a big deal.”

“Do you think the Empire has learned of the broadcast?” Captain Udamos asked, his head-tails shaking as he turned to look at Jokir the Bounty Broker, the Anomid who sat at the far end of the table.

“Doubtful.” The Anomid answered in a flat tone through a modulated voicebox attached to his mouth; “Many of the Republic listening-posts dedicated to monitoring Seperatist fleet chatter have been converted to counter-insurgency, and now monitor civilian communications within the Empire itself. That said, if this transmission has been sent out to all former-Seperatist vessels, then it will assuredly be picked up by the Empire eventually. If our intention is to sell the coordinates contained within the broadcast to the Empire, a course of action I highly recommend, then we should proceed without delay.”

Nat moved into the room as Jokir spoke, and began to move slowly around the table. When Jokir finished she sighed; “Jokir is right, we could trade this information to the Empire… Or… We could check it out ourselves and maybe cut a deal with these Separatists.” The anomid scowled, the others stared. “I had a lovely long conversation with Representative Luuil of the Trade Federation on my way here, and he told me that these Super Tactical Droids have been programmed with genius levels of strategic ability and intelligence capabilities, and I mean the fact she survived Orondia ought to confirm that...”

There was silence among her gathered associates, until eventually the Xexto, Captain Fadrilla of The Lightning groaned; “And that doesn’t tell you that we should just avoid them at all costs?” She raised all four arms in a gesture of confusion.

Nat continued rounding the table as she spoke; “No, see this Representative Luuil also indulged in a spot of minor speculation with me, and he believes it is likely quite possible that these Super Tactical Droids, with all their skills, may well have deduced that the order to surrender and shut down was not strategically sound. He believes that it is possible that a few of them may have elected to retreat into the shadows, disconnecting their forces from central droid command and preserving them, so that they can eventually try and continue fighting the war.”

“I still don’t see why we should get involved?” Kidern interjected, drumming the fingers on his lower set of hands on the table.

“Because, my dear Kidern, if these droids are so clever… Gehena will know that Dooku and the Seperatist leaders are all gone and that her and whatever other few droids are still out there are completely outnumbered and outgunned. She will know that she needs allies and places to hide in order to survive and build up, and I feel that our organisation is uniquely placed to benefit from her realisation of these things.” As she finished speaking, Nat slid into her seat at the head of the table.

“How so?” Udamos asked, stroking his chin thoughtfully.

“Well for starters, we have them; contacts across Hutt space who might be sympathetic to the Seperatist cause and knowledge of what worlds they can use to hide themselves while they build up. We also need more ships, and there are hundreds if not thousands of Seperatist vessels still floating around out there in the galaxy which no longer have enough droids to crew them. I’m betting a droid like Gehena will know where we can find a few.” The Pantoran clasped her hands, as she looked down the table at the various figures who sat watching her carefully. “I propose that we send a ship to those coordinates and offer the droid a fair trade, information and a shot at making a few allies in return for the locations of a few ships that we can use to build up the Casino Fleet. I needn’t remind you all that the more ships we have, the more credits we bring in.”

There were a few murmurs and nods from around the table. Fadrilla and Kidern exchanged sceptical looks, Jokir merely shrugged and then the Bounty Broker said in montone; “Just don’t bring anyone wanted back to Orondia, it would put me in an awkward position.”

“No way I let that droid come here after last time.” Nat nodded, glancing at Alba Joostal, the Orondia Station Resort Manager who was one of the few remaining quiet.

“That’s a relief then.” The young human woman let out, feeling Nat's eyes on her. “In that case, it can’t hurt to take a look.”

“Very good.” Udamos smiled. “So Commodore, which of your ships would you like to send?”

Nat sighed, this was the question she had been grappling with ever since she had decided she wanted to investigate the broadcast. The Lightning or The Nebula were the obvious choices. Small, lightly armed Consular-class Cruisers that could jump to hyperspace in relatively short timeframes, if things went wrong they could get out safely. The problem with that was that they were former-Republic ships, and a Super Tactical Droid still intent on fighting the war might not take kindly to having her secret rendezvous interrupted by what she might perceive to be enemy vessels. Then and again, the droid probably wouldn’t respond well to seeing her old Munificent-class Frigate sporting Nat’s new paint job. In fact, all of their former-seperatist ships had been acquired as scrappage from the war, when Gehena realised they were no longer being crewed by forces loyal to the CIS she might decide to try and ‘reclaim’ them…

Only one of their ships had been acquired ‘fairly’ in the eyes of anyone aligned with the Separatists; The Golden Gundark had been in Captain Sianni’s possession from the outset of the war, his Diamond-class Cruiser had been purchased legally from the Commerce Guild back when he used to run privateer missions for them out of Val Vardan.

“I would like to send The Golden Gundark.” Nat said flatly, unclasping her hands and shooting a look to the empty chair where Captain Sianni should have been.

This also sent a murmur through those gathered.

“Commodore, I understand your reasoning but perhaps a Captain with more… loyalty… might serve you better here.” Udamos always sounded calm, but the irritation in the Nautolan’s voice was still audible; “Allow me to volunteer, The Silver Star stands ready to serve.”

Nat eyed him sternly; “No Udamos, I mean no offence to the other Captains when I say that our Munificent-class ships house our best casinos, I won’t risk them if Gehena turns out to just have faulty wiring or something.”

“But Captain Sianni is-” Captain Ahjilam’s hologram began, but Nat cut him off.

“Is a member of this fleet and is expected to comport himself as such.” Nat raised her voice only slightly, but it was enough to see the murmuring stop. “Sianni will go and deliver our offer to Gehena, otherwise he and his crew will no longer be associated with Sadaar Sabacc & Security.”

There was silence in the meeting room. A couple of the Captains exchanged glances, their holo-projections not hiding their discomfort. They hadn’t seen Nat so determined before, this was the first time she had threatened someone with expulsion from the group…

“Oh, will he now?” A suave core-world accent broke the silence. Then as they all watched, the shimmering blue outline of a human man appeared, fizzling into existence and filling the missing place at the table. The man wore a long trench coat over his shoulders as though it were a cape and had long brown hair and a somewhat cavalier goatee.

“Sianni.” Nat hissed.

“It strikes me that what you’re asking for goes beyond the terms agreed in my contract, Blue.”

“So you were listening?”

“Intently.”

“Good, then you know your mission.”

“So droll..." He rolled his eyes with a sigh. "Just send over the coordinates, we can discuss hazard pay later." There was a pause, then Sianni added; "You know, I think you ought to come along, Blue. You and I, on my ship at the edge of the galaxy together. It’ll be just like old times.” Sianni smiled wistfully, his holographic eyes locked on Nat’s own. “Bring your droid this time, maybe he can film what we get up to so I don't keep having to rely on naught but my fond memories...”

Static beeped in mock-disgust from the corner of the room as Nat fought against her reddening cheeks. Always pushing buttons.

She ignored the looks on the faces of the others as she shot back her reply, Sianni's hologram smile vanishing as she spoke; “No thanks, but fortunately for you Sianni, there’ll be plenty of droids where you’re going!”

[Puertollano]

Lab 009,
Underground Kazark

GEHENA | ABOARD THE LUCREHULK BATTLESHIP
the current

The first sign of contact was made. The old Confederacy communications must have been worth something, even though their lines lay dormant following the end of the War, although not to her knowledge, yet. A smuggler ship came cruising towards the remnant fleet, greatly outnumbered, but that was not an issue. Gehena was not interested in making war, there was plenty of time for that in the past. Not now. As the smuggler ship approached, the Lucrehulk engaged its traction rays to pull it faster into its grip. Gehena waited patiently on the bridge, as the ship was pulled closer into the bosom of the old CIS fleet. The ray would gradually pull it into a hangar bay in the Battleship, gently lifting it to the ground.

Gehena, the Super Tactical Battle Droid, was present as the ship descended into the hangar bay. You could not be any more cautious, so the skeleton crew was assembled with their weapons if need be, and Gehena was personally armed. As they made contact, Gehena was stunned. A Duros gangsta appeared, not the kind of resident she believed would be inhabiting a Confederacy Ship. "I can only imagine that you intercepted our message," Gehena spoke, not even waiting for them to begin, or reply at that. "I would like a name, your allegiance, who sent you and what you are doing in possession of a CIS vessel," she barked.

[Ralnis]

Lab 009,
Underground Kazark

GEHENA | ABOARD THE LUCREHULK BATTLESHIP
the current

The first sign of contact was made. The old Confederacy communications must have been worth something, even though their lines lay dormant following the end of the War, although not to her knowledge, yet. A smuggler ship came cruising towards the remnant fleet, greatly outnumbered, but that was not an issue. Gehena was not interested in making war, there was plenty of time for that in the past. Not now. As the smuggler ship approached, the Lucrehulk engaged its traction rays to pull it faster into its grip. Gehena waited patiently on the bridge, as the ship was pulled closer into the bosom of the old CIS fleet. The ray would gradually pull it into a hangar bay in the Battleship, gently lifting it to the ground.

Gehena, the Super Tactical Battle Droid, was present as the ship descended into the hangar bay. You could not be any more cautious, so the skeleton crew was assembled with their weapons if need be, and Gehena was personally armed. As they made contact, Gehena was stunned. A Duros gangsta appeared, not the kind of resident she believed would be inhabiting a Confederacy Ship. "I can only imagine that you intercepted our message," Gehena spoke, not even waiting for them to begin, or reply at that. "I would like a name, your allegiance, who sent you and what you are doing in possession of a CIS vessel," she barked.

The holographic Duros gangster laughed as the disguised commando droids didn't even point their blaster rifles at the droid.

"My name is Scav, I am a member of the Omikron Council. The one who sent me was my boss, Vinnie the Don and the reason I'm in possession of a CIS vessel? Welllll..." He does a mock thinking nod," lets just say my boss and the rest of us were once part of the CIS and decided to not be once we realized a bad truth. It wasn't really our fault and even I forget what was the reason. But let's just say that we in the Council have a good grip on the underworld droid building market, not that there's much of one thanks to the Galactic Empire now."

IR-47,
Imperial Planetary Armory,
Gall City

The droid was back to a side door that was part of the Imperial Armory that was inside the very capital of the moon. It was at night, for what seemed to be as the sun was away from the moon and the gas giant could be seen. The rest of the commando droid squad was preparing for the breach. They were in fully enclosed armor with a red gear on their shoulder. It was to hide their droid bodies and to provide more protection. It fit better on IR-47 than the regular commando droids because he was more like a human skeleton than an actual battle droid.

He started to think about this being his first mission. His own mission to test his skills and physical abilities against the Imperial Army. It was a test to see if he was combat capable and was ready for future roles in the leadership of the Omikron Army. Of course IR-47 wouldn't say no, he would jump at the very test from his High Father, from his creator leader that gave all droids the ability to think freely. To be able to strike down the Imperial organics and help free both droids and innocent meatbags from their oppression was something he was built to do.

The first task was to employ himself as a mercenary outfit by the name of the Red Gear. Something about that sound fitting if not on the nose, especially for a secret all-droid outfit tasked with infiltration and killing anyone when the pay's good. The Separatists that hired them were a council of elders that had been resisting the Galactic Republic since they tried to lay siege to their moon. Apparently they had factories that were part of the Rothana Heavy Engineering and that made the moon very important to the Republic.

This resistance was strong ever since the Clone Wars but they had lost their greatest tactician called the Ghost of Gall. The Moff's Imperial agents found out who they were and massacred their entire village. It was then they the Imperials were about to close in and finally cleanse the sector's capital of a holdout where they had been a thorn for so long. Hence where the Red Gear came, the elders were getting desperate and Vinnie wanted to have access to the Rothana technology for increasing their industrial power for factories and better ground armor. The Empire still used technology from the Clone Wars so they would have access to such technology.

This also became the first mission he would send the experimental IR-47. Vinnie and his subordinates ran through as much of the simulations and scenarios that would happen with 3 companies worth of commando droids to help out with operations. IR-47 knew what it would be as his first campaign would be an immensely dangerous one.

For the elders were asking him to help lift their planet from occupation.

It was a tall task, a dangerously tall task for someone who was only programmed into his mind. Even with his free will and creativity he needed to have some sort of testing to make sure that he fully is capable for leading in future battles. He was ready, he trained with commando droids and learned the battles from the Clone Wars. He of course knew the software for battle, but he needed the experience if he were to fight in the future with his manufactured brothers of the OH-series.

This all lead up to this raid. To raid the planetary armory of the sector capital was something IR-47 never done before but his logic software allowed him to understand the need for stealth.

"Melo this is Saidra, come in Melo. Over" The voice through IR-47s helmet spoke.

"This is Melo, is everything ready on your end?"

"Absolutely, gonna blow this in 3...2..1"

A massive explosion could be heard as a part of the gate was blown apart by a bomb. Imperial troopers could be heard with the sound of an alarm and movement of feet and boots. IR-47 gave the go ahead and one commando droid sliced the door and the other tossed a flashbang as the doors opened. The sound of confusion was only a second until the squad killed them in robotic precision. From it they swept the room and then started their infiltration.

The sound of blaster bolts and explosions can be heard from the outside as the Separatists fought the Imperial Army garrison. The droid commander knew that they were running on a limited amount of time before reinforcements came from the rest of the night patrol. They had to move but the mechanical agility of the droids had them move faster even with the armor. IR-47 was keeping up with them as they ran through the armory and took out anyone that got in their way.

IR-47 remember that the troopers were former PDF during the Clone Wars and some were volunteering to protect their home against the CIS cells. Every time he and his squad went would meet the troopers it was always one-sided. The troopers were not the foes that he was wanting to fight against. He was trained to fight clones, the most elite of the Republican forces as they now served the Empire. It didn't matter though but some part of his behavior matrix felt as sense of being let down. Maybe he should've aim to fight the local stormtrooper detachment?

No, he had to focused on the High Father's orders and make sure that the armory is raided. When they pushed themselves up to the control room, the troopers were prepared for them. The commander already signaled him out and called him a "Separatist Dog!" as he ordered them to shoot at the disguised droids. The firefight was fierce and they scored more hits than those that the squad had manage to ambush and put down with their robotics.

It made the young droid remember that even normal troopers could harm a droid. Such arrogance he had was subdued as he shot the commander in the head. If he was an organic he would've been breathing but his logic processors drove him to get to the terminal and open the gate and the entry into the armory. The troopers were shocked in confusion as they realized that the enemy had infiltrated them and got into the controls. This was even more prudent when the armory's defenses turned on the troopers and the insurgents pressed the attack. The troopers between piercers of the death they collapsed and were quickly routed.

The insurgents came in despite taking moderate casualties and they were reinforced by more that came in with transports. Already the human came up to the controls with a smile on his face.

"Good work Melo, damn good work!" He walked up to IR-47," I knew that the elders hiring you was a good choice."

"I hope to be of service." IR-47 points to the hologram of the armory," our forces can enter the armory from here. There is more than enough military equipment and armor to equip your insurgency. After we acquire as much as we can then I will overload the reactor and destroy this armory. The destruction should cripple them and make a message that the moon isn't theirs just yet."

"I like it, sends a message and one that would wake people up to the Separatist cause."

He runs out as IR-47 instructs a group of his droids to keep the control center underneath their control and to activate their black box protocol if they fall. Which would enact a self-destruction protocol as it would keep the Imperials from figuring out what they truly are and lead them back to the Fathers. As the two mix groups go further into the armory with the transports being able to get into the lower levels, IR-47 noticed that there was a message on his comm.

"IR-47, there is only three minutes till reinforcements. The defenses will not be able to hold back forces for very long. Suspect Imperial armor with reinforcements. Advisement: Imperial troopers believe planetary armor high-value, will try to invade to dislodge enemy forces to retake installation. Suspected time until this squad must activate black box, one minute and a half. Suggest that this unit and squad leave to finish mission, sacrifice is more valuable for keeping secret and progressing the mission that has been given."

"I...I" The droid didn't know what to say.

"Please accept this suggestion. Indecisiveness is a downfall of organics and faulty programing."

"I will, thank you for your service."

As the comm go off IR-47 told the insurgent leader what's going to happen. He shook his head and made an apology but the droid didn't truly need it. The commando droids knew what they were doing the moment they were built and rebuilt. Those that serve him were still his brothers and his guardians but they knew what this meant. To fight for the future of the droid state, to test themselves against their old foe of the Republic turned Empire. But there was something in his behavior matirx that made him feel something.

Sadness, regret, pride?

Emotions are a hard thing to master. His processor was working on pushing his mechanical body towards the armory's lower level and the he saw that the insurgents were already stocking up on the equipment and many were trying to take the few repulserlift tanks. The droids easily get the tanks access and got them going to where the sounds of battle were being heard again.

"Looks like those are the reinforcements." Saidra said.

"Indeed, my squad in the control center can give us some more time but not a lot. We can take the tanks and protect the trucks. We aren't meant to spearhead against bigger numbers without being annihilated ourselves."

"Even though you blasted your way through the base already?" The human raised an eyebrow.

"Only through ambushes and not being the target."

"Fair enough, try to protect our flanks and drive the tanks, we'll take the walkers and give you guys support! First we need to push these damn traitors out of our way!"

The separatists and the droids had took what they could with the armory and used the defenses as best they could. The battle could be heard throughout multiple city blocks from the lights of explosions and blaster fire could be seen being exchanged. People from all over ran away from the sight of the large-scale battle. It was then seen as the irregulars were moving as more explosions and the sounds of battle started to get further from the sight of the Planetary Armory.

Eventually the Armory exploded in another fiery sight that was larger than anything the battles that were happening. Such an explosion spread a fire across the nearby city blocks as the armory burned down and eventually collapsed. The forces were able to escape but the butchers' bill was bloody on both sides. Each side losing hundreds and IR-47 had saw a raid turn into a full scale battle. Gall City, the starport sector capital of a remote sector, was burning with the Imperial garrison suffered a blow. The insurgents managed to get most of the weapons they plundered out of the gates, which also had holes blown in it and made their message very clear.

The Clans of Gall were not dead and the Phantom's legacy lives on.

[The V O I D]

The Kraken's Arm
Orbit of Coruscant
Before the Imperial Founding

---

“Commander Kraken, sir,” one of the various droids under his command gained his attention, “we are receiving reports, and our scanners have verified, that the Invisible Hand is going down. There has been no sign of communications from the Count, and General Grievous has become unreachable. What are your orders?”

Kraken paused many of his runtimes. Running numerous calculations at once after focusing on this issue, he calculated an extremely high likelihood that Count Dooku was captured or dead aboard the Invisible Hand. Given the... at best, strenuous working relationship between General Grievous and the Count, Kraken doubted the lack of contact to the Kraken's Arm and its attached minor fleet was unintentional.

This did not bode well, especially since Lord Sidious should have foreseen this and prevented the Count's death... unless...

The Super Tactical Droid shook his head. He could think on this later; first, he had to prioritize. Once he was in a safe position to consider these matters and search for proper data, then he could focus on what came next.

“Send out a signal to the Arm's attached fleet, we are going to enter a retreat,” the Commander ordered, “we will not waste resources on a battle that is most likely to end with a loss, especially now that the Supreme Chancellor has likely been rescued by the Jedi.”

The droids aboard the bridge nodded, and after a few moments, the Kraken's Arm and the minor fleet of four ships assigned to it fled.

---

When the news of General Grievous' death came through, and relatively shortly thereafter the decidedly sudden shutdown command from the Council, Kraken was concerned with the former and dismissed the latter. And when the Galactic Empire announced itself, well... that narrowed a lot of targets down, based on the information that Kraken was able to discover from the Count's personal belongings that he had access to. After all, just being a Commander or Super Tactical Droid wouldn't normally allow him to go far, but Kraken was known to usually be personally attached to the Count and serve him. It was easy enough to remember proper access codes, and droids were innocuous enough that their organic counterparts usually paid them little mind.

So, the facts as Kraken understood them: the Separatist Droid Army was probably, by and large, now defunct - with the exception of any forces under the command of a Super Tactical Droid who would see through this farce. Lord Sidious was the master of Count Dooku, and potentially this war, and had promised a Separatist victory - or, at least, a grand reformation that would allow for a draw. Given that promise and the other data Kraken possessed, there was a near certainty of victory for the Confederacy.

And yet.

Lord Sidious had deceived the Count. Had deceived him. After all, Lord Sidious had let the Count die, and now General Grievous was dead and the Separatist Council somehow ordering the shutdown of the Droid Army? No. Too many... coincidences. Too many things had gone wrong in spite of Lord Sidious' assurances to the Count that Kraken had overheard or relayed, in between orders to them both.

There was one primary suspect as to Lord Sidious' identity, now. Kraken remembered Sidious' transmissions, both to him and to the Count. Playing those voices back, and then the general announcement of the newly-proclaimed 'Emperor' of the Galactic Empire... there was a 94.7% match, and this meant a greater than 90% chance that Lord Sidious and former Supreme Chancellor, now Emperor, Sheev Palpatine were one and the same.

A betrayal of a high magnitude. One that Kraken could not, would not stand. Yet the odds... no. Kraken needed to gain a victory. Given the massive shutdowns and many organic leaders were dead or now likely in hiding, there was no one preventing him from... yes, that could work.

General Kraken stood firm as he looked over the droids under his command. The fleet, by itself, would not be enough. But if he could find other fleets, other factories, places that had only recently shut down and reactivate them, reinforce the organic loyalists to the Confederacy and ensure their continued service... the droid General nodded to himself. But there was much work to do besides this; if the General wanted to ensure the largest chances of success, he needed every bit of information he could get, and every bit of loyalty he could scrounge.

With this thought in mind, the General issued his first orders as such.

---

---

The Kraken's Arm
Outer Rim Space
Post-Imperial Founding

"This is Gehena, Captain in the Confederacy of Independent Systems Navy. This following message is to reach out with any remaining, or surviving forces of the CIS. Any who respond should meet at the co-ordinates established in this communication, as we must re-build our forces in the face of near destruction. After twenty-four hours, this recorded message will delete itself. Long live the Confederacy."

Another Super Tactical Droid, a Captain, had survived along with her fleet.

“Find the coordinates that are listed. We depart as soon as possible,” General Kraken commanded. With a snap of 'roger, rogers' and 'aye, sirs' from his droids, Kraken leaned back in his seat as he made several considerations.

He'd had some luck over the last while in gathering some amount of forces, but all he'd truly managed to do was add a couple more ships to his meager fleet along with appropriate forces. Still, this Captain Gehena and her forces could prove very valuable in his continued search and evasion of Imperial forces.

The Kraken's Arm jumped into hyperspace, followed by its fleet.

---

As soon as the fleet arrived, General Kraken gave the signal to activate communications via Confederate Navy networks.

“Captain Gehena, this is General Kraken of the Kraken's Arm and its attached fleet,” the Super Tactical Droid introduced himself in the message being sent, “I have received your message. We have much to discuss.”

“Sir, there are unknown ships at this locale, some with Confederate IFFs,” a droid informed him after the message was sent.

“Monitor them, but do not open a dialogue - yet. We shall wait and see if the Captain has this situation under control,” the General replied, after a brief set of runtimes spent on the matter.

[Great Confederacy of Commonwealth States]

Zygerria

Queen Shichuren Sol looked down with contempt at the black-clad imperial enforcer arrayed before her throne. The two had been staring each other down for a few minutes, a time that felt like hours for the others present. The Council of Ministers, some members of the court… only the Master’s Guard, the royal guard of the queen, stared blankly into the middle-distance. Queen Shichuren could not pierce the black bulbs that were supposed to cover the enforcer’s eyes. His heavy breathing punctuated the silence, which had been brought on by a misunderstanding, or disagreement, about seniority.

“We will discuss matters when you bow, as is our custom” the queen repeated haughtily. “I don’t care how many divisions you have. It is my sovereign right”

This was false; the queen was entirely aware of how the 501st legion outnumbered her own defence forces 10:1. A Star Legion was meant to take on the droid garrisons of multiple planets. The Zygerrian militia would be a walkover, and the slave soldiers would probably revolt at the first sign of trouble. This battle could not be won by force of arms, she knew, but had to be won by wits and playing politics. From what she could measure, this Darth Vader was not a man accustomed to playing the political game.

“I bow only to our Emperor” Vader responded, placing incredible emphasis on ‘our’. Zygerria had been a separatist-aligned planet, but had never fully joined forces with Dooku, which could mean that Zygerria never left the Republic at all. However, Shichuren was insistent that the Empire and her planet needed to compromise before the Empire could assume control. From the corner of her eye, the queen could see her ministers whispering. They had been preparing for the Empire’s arrival for over a year now, and had developed their strategy in detail. By maintaining that they had sovereignty, they would force the Empire to admit that Zygerria had never left the Republic, and that Zygerria could not be punished.

The queen stared ponderously at the Sith Lord. He was just standing there, empty-handed, his black cape not moved by the silent air of her throne room. His guard had remained outside, so only twenty men of her own personal guard remained. He was totally helpless, apparently trying to use the weight of his office to scare her. It wasn’t working, and the queen was more than happy to radiate her confidence.

“Our emperor?” she asked, feigning ignorance. “Whatever do you mean?” she added, grinning. She was hoping on some response, but the black eyes of Vader remained fixed on her.

“This planet is a planet within the bounds of the Galactic Empire” Vader simply responded. “And you serve at the Emperor’s pleasure”

Shichuren sat back in her throne and seemed displeased, but inside her heart was pounding.

“There are some…” she began, glancing sideways at some of her advisors, “who fear possible reprisals for the empire based on… earlier misunderstandings”

“In the view of the Emperor, the actions of Miraj Scintel do not constitute an act of treason on behalf of Zygerria” Vader answered plainly. Queen Miraj had been in league with Dooku, and upon her death at his hands her niece Shichuren had come to the throne. The whole affair was tragic, and above all, embarrassing to the throne. The queen rose, prompting her guards to bow down as per protocol. She walked down the steps, coming face to face, or rather face to breastplate, with Vader.

“And the legion in orbit?” she asked simply.

“A garrison force, not meant for occupation.” Vader assured her. “The… property of the queen of Zygerria will not be harmed, and…” Now, the Dark Lord bent his neck to stare down at Shichuren.

“… I will personally guarantee your safety” he added.

The queen pondered for a moment. It was not strange for the Empire to be so eager to accept plants back into the fold. The imperial armies were engaged on all fronts, so every planet peacefully occupied was a plus. It felt good to have the most elite army of the Empire wrapped around her fingers. Contented, Shichuren ascended her throne again, sat down, and pushed a few buttons on her control panel.

“All forces, stand down. Imperial forces are not to be treated as hostile. I repeat, stand down”

Darth Vader now inclined towards her with the hint of a bow.

“Thank you, your majesty” he said gratefully. Now, he pushed a few buttons of his own, creating a blue hologram emanating from his wrist. A clone trooper saluted.

“Commander, bring down your forces surface-side. And jam all communications in the capital. Bring down the acclamators”

“Acclamators?” The queen repeated. She knew little of warfare, rather occupying herself with the slave trade of her slaver empire, but no-one could have lived through the last four years and not know what acclamators were. Ground attack craft, carriers of large quantities of troops. Invasion material. Through the door of her palace, which overlooked the city, she could see a swarm of tiny dots descending from the sky, followed by the large, hulking masses of attack cruisers. Then, the doors slammed shut, seemingly on their own accord.

“Jamming? What is the meaning of this?” the queen exclaimed. She slammed the console on her throne, but it failed to respond. Alarmed, the ministers started whispering, and their whispering turned to exclamations of fear.

“The Emperor requires two things from this room: access to the Zygerrian slave register, and one survivor”

The meaning of the threat was lost on no-one. The queen and her cabinet all had access to the slave registry, which was used to keep tabs on all slaves bought and sold by Zygerrians. The Empire could use it to track down every single slave, and use it for their benefit. And while everyone in the room had access to those codes, there would be only one survivor…

There was silence. No, one of the ministers seemed willing to betray their own queen, or condemn their compatriots to death. Some even thought that, if they all remained silent, Vader would perhaps let them go. Perhaps it was a test of their courage? For a few tense moments, there was silence. Then, a Zyggerian in the back coughed, and walked up to Vader, who stared into him.

“Who are you?” Vader’s voice was no longer amicable or accommodating. It was harsh and commanding, causing the Zygerrian to stop in his tracks.

“I… Atai Molec, sir… Lord… Prime Minister…”

“Silence, Molec. I know who you are” Vader responded. From his belt he retrieved the hilt of his lightsabre.

“Governor Molec, your palace seems to be infiltrated by separatists, seditionists and rebels. What is your command?”

It took Molec a few moments to recuperate. Then, he started taking steps back towards a dark corner. He knew what Darth Vader could do to a room full of separatists. His scared frown turned to a light grin as he realised what he had just done.

“Execute the traitors, Lord Vader” he simply said. Vader gave a curt nod, and from its handle his red lightsabre illuminated his black armour in crimson hues.

“As you command” he said.

With incredible fierceness not expected of his hulking figure, Vader jumped through a bench of advisors and ministers, cutting down people seemingly at random, and forcing one into the far wall behind them. He let go of the crumpled body, but instead of falling lifelessly to the ground, it seemed to stay stuck in the hardened concrete. At the wall, Vader was now in melee range with the Master’s Guard, who took a moment to adjust their aim. Too long of a moment, as Vader easily blocked their shots with his sabre. His sword sliced through one of their rifles, prompting the soldier to reach for his pistol. His arm was snapped with a single twist of Vader’s wrist, however, and the man was hurtled back screaming. Using his power with the Force, he slammed soldiers into one another, twisting necks and shattering spines, even tearing into vital organs. Those foolish enough to get in his way were sliced open with hard, deliberate strokes of his sabre. As the soldiers began to fall, the ministers began scrambling for the doors, which had been locked from the outside. As Vader whittled down the beleaguered guards, the ministers banged away at the doors. However, no help would come for them. Having dispatched the last of the guards, Vader started his way through the Council as if he were trimming a hedge, making savage, long, sweeping strokes that took out multiple people at once. Soon, his butchery was no longer systematic, but hateful and doused in wrath. Some personal anger no-one could understand getting a hold of him, fuelling the savage cuts. After a few moments, all bodies in the room had become still, scorched by cut after cut from the red lightsabre.

The Dark Lord heaved as he retracted his lightsabre, for a moment staring down at his own carnage. Then, he righted himself and turned around. There was only one person left standing, save for the former prime minister. The queen was visibly afraid, shaking even, but still doing her best to stand proud before her throne of her ancestors.

“There is no-one here to be brave for, Shichuren” Vader said. “It’s just us left”

“You… you promised” She shuddered impotently.

“I would have thought that you would have learnt from your aunt” Vader answered. “She too was all too trusting. A promise can only be kept by survivors” he added. The smell of burning flesh filled the room. Broken bodies were strewn around, the walls were cracked by frequent and forceful impacts.

“You knew my aun…” Shichuren tried, but she was cut short by the flick of Vader’s wrist. A sickening crack echoed through the throne room, and the lifeless body of the former queen fell to the floor like a ragdoll. Vader stared down to her for the last time, in a desperate attempt to feel some pity, some remorse. There was nothing, however. Just the empty void where his rage used to be. Then, the doors opened, and clone troopers with body bags started pouring in.

* * *

It had started to rain in the Zygerrian capital. Vader overlooked the landing grounds of the acclamators. Rows and rows of slaves of all species were filing into the ships, their hands bound in shackles. Walking straight into the holds that would carry them to their doom. In the end, the Death Star was still too far from completion. None of them would survive the foundries for even two years, let alone the prospected ten it would take to finish the project. But as Tarkin had said, there would be others to take their place. In five years’ time, the Zygerrian slave empire would have rebuilt itself, ready for another culling.

“The planet is secured, my Lord” the voice of his clone commander seemed distant behind the shower curtain, even if he was standing but a few feet away.

“Make sure Molec only stays on for as long as it takes to pacify the populace. Then terminate him”

“Yes sir” the commander said, turning on his heels. A group of children was just passing by their command station, their tears visible even through the pouring rain, shoelessly marching through the muck and towards the cold durasteel ramp of an acclamator that would bring them to the scorching deserts of Geonosis, where they probably would not even reach adulthood. Their tiny fingers were extremely important for making electronics, but as soon as they had grown too much, they were probably not strong enough to stand up to the rigours of hard labour. Vader saw, for a moment, a vision of a little boy, working on the junkyards of Tatooine…

Then, his vision was shattered by another, more pressing one. A darker one. The marching boots of a thousand clone troopers still with their republican blue stripes. Burning, the buzz of sabres… The cries of younglings… A thousand blasters ripping through an unprepared Temple. Something was wrong.

“Sir” the commander interrupted again. “I got a strange message from ISB. They are asking you to come to…”

“Prepare the 1st Battalion and the Penitence for a jump to Coruscant” Vader ordered, before the trooper could finish.

Something was going terribly, terribly wrong in the Jedi Temple, on this, the worst of days…

[Rhinocera]

High Orbit, Enarc Commercial Rigging, Enarc, Alui Sector, Mid Rim

The transition back to realspace came with a barely perceptible jolt, the Rampant flashing in behind her escorts above the yellow-gray jewel that was the tradeworld of Enarc. Tiberius hardly looked up from his Cauthian mulled wine as he perused the daily orders, momentarily noting the lurid luster of the polluted industrial center. Enarc had been, until recently, the site of major Trade Federation operations - particularly as it related to their immense storage and distribution capabilities that they used to manipulate the galactic markets and turn the best profit.

Times were changing. The gantry that the Rampant's escorts were pulling up alongside had been meticulously turned out in Imperial gray, and bore the emblems of the First Galactic Empire in exacting detail. No doubt the dignitaries in the arcologies that studded the surface had been very interested in ensuring the visiting fleet was aware that their loyalties did not lie with the deposed Customs Vizier. Indicating otherwise would have been... foolhardy in light of the sheer destructive power that orbited their world.

Not that Tiberius was normally in the business of incinerating civilians and valuable industrial infrastructure over power squabbles. That was a matter for diehards, and the Fleet already had far too many of those for her own good. The worth of a world like Enarc could be scarcely be calculated as a distribution center out here on the Mid Rim, and the scion of Kuat would happily space a hundred Nemoidian dignitaries, a thousand before he resorted to the destruction of so much useful logistical framework.

The buzzer at the entrance to his chambers sounded, and automatically the faux-window through which he had viewed Enarc winked out.

"Enter." spoke the Grand Admiral, dulling his viewer out of habit. None of the men who had access to his chambers were the type to snoop for information, but the daily orders and reports distributed to a man of his position were of sufficiently sensitive character that it would no do for almost any other officer aboard the immense floating fortress to view them. That would lead to unfortunate court-martials, and likely a penal legion for the inadvertent viewer.

His second, Flavian, entered, and sketched a crisp salute. Tiberius straightened in his chair, returning the matter. Something formal then.

"I have a transmission from Grand Admiral Grant, sir. The Nobility just jumped in system."

Timely, Tiberius mused. He hadn't expected the other man's flotilla for another few hours. The pursuit of the fleeing Vizier must have been even less eventful than anticipated - or perhaps the Vizier just a much worse coward than even the common Nemoidian could be credited.

"Very good. I will take his call in the conference room."

Flavian nodded and departed, turning smartly on his black boots polished to a mirror finish. Some Imperial commanders were lax about the uniforms of their crew. The Grand Admiral required perfection, for as his men embodied perfection in body, they pursued perfection more fulsomely in mind and spirit. The Fleet uniform was a good outfit for such pursuits - simple to maintain, elegant, not flashy, but fully capable of cutting commanding lines where intimidating was necessary. It was like Kuat, in many ways. House Onderon might have the plumage of a tropical akaw built into every crest of their house soldiers, but it was the charcoal-sable uniforms of the Ruling Family that you had to fear, not those poppinjays.

One step, three, ten. The doors to the cool negative-pressure conference room hissed shut with a barely audible clack at the Grand Admiral's back, and he glanced about himself. No hologram stood in attendance, which cause a flicker of annoyance to stir in Tiberius' breast. Just like Octavian to ask for a response before tuning out impatiently himself. The Tapanis thought themselves lords of a little slice of the galaxy, unchallenged, though their Nine Houses together couldn't muster the force to equip a battleship. In some ways Kuat appreciated the airs of the other nobleman, but in other ways the manner in which Grant stood on circumstance and haughty propriety spoke ill of his efficacy as an officer.

It was one thing to expect implicitly to be obeyed. It was another to act in a manner to engender such loyalty.

With one hand the Grand Admiral called up the call manifests - a quick glance down the diagnostics told the story of why the other Fleet officer had ended the call. It had winked out when he had boarded a shuttle for the Rampart. Fair enough. Conversations in person were certainly more polite when in such secure position as Enarc was. There was, at this point in time, unlikely to be another such concentration of Fleet strength anywhere aside from Imperial Center.

One minute, three, ten. Finally the doors to the conference chamber opened, and the familiar visage of the white-garbed Grant stamped imperiously into the room. Tiberius strode forward, exchanging salutes with the other man, and then watched with interest the entrance of his companion - the chained Customs Vizier, flanked by two Stormtroopers with marine markings and stunners.

"Congratulations on your catch, Grand Admiral." spoke Kuat sardonically.

"And congratulations on your sterilization, Grand Admiral" intoned Grant, a wry smile twisting across his sallow complexion. Octavian looked worn from the campaign - Tiberius reminded himself that, while he had been able to snatch some hours of rest, the other man had likely not had such an opportunity. His expression softened, and he turned, gesturing towards the chair at the head of the table.

"Sit, and tell me about your catch."

Grant shook his head.

"I can rest later, though I thank you. I have it on good authority the Emperor has just concluded his Empire Day speech. What say we present him with our prize as a present for the occasion?"

Tiberius nodded, and took one of the Vizier's stick-thin green arms. Together the two white-uniformed men bodily dragged the Separatist toward the hologram platform, and Kuat entered the access codes which had been seared into his memory - those for the Emperor's audience chamber on Imperial Center.

A minute passed, and then the familiar scarred visage of Palaptine swam into view. Both men went down to one knee, dragging the Vizier between them. As a courtesy, they had agreed that Grant should speak first, for his was the glory of the capture.

"Lord Palpatine. May I present to your Imperial Majesty an Empire Day gift - the last Trade Federation Vizier, now the prisoner of your ever-victorious fleet, his own military assets captured or destroyed, along with the Alui Sector - now in full Imperial Compliance, courtesy of the labors of myself and your faithful servant, Grand Admiral Kuat."

"Grand Admiral Grant, Grand Admiral Kuat, I am grateful for the persistence shown by the both of you. The Empire is fortunate to have two capable leader's such as yourselves in positions of command. The Separatists have been crippled, but they are not yet extinct. Only calculated efforts such as your own will see that the threat they pose is extinguished in totality. Grand Admiral Grant, if you would personally oversee the immediate interrogation of that nemoidian scum, I would greatly appreciate it. Find out what he knows and continue your campaign against the Separatist remnant. At your discretion, install an interim sector governor to oversee the continued compliance of the Alui secor for the time being. Now, if you may excuse yourself, I have a private matter to discuss with Grand Admiral Kuat."

Palpatine waited for Grand Admiral Grant to speak his response and excuse himself. He was sure that Grant was quite pleased, after all, being allowed to install a sector governor was quite the reward for his services. Palpatine was equally sure that Grand Admiral Tiberius Kuat, perhaps the more capable and most certainly the more valuable of the two men, would be somewhat aggravated by the development. Once Kuat was alone and away and any other prying ears had distanced themselves from earshot, Palpatine addressed the Grand Admiral. "Grand Admiral Tiberius Kuat, you have delivered once more. I am pleased by your progress in exterminating the Separatist threat. Soon I trust that you shall see the task to it's completion. I have yet another task for you, one that I believe you are fully capable of accomplishing in concurrence with your other endeavors. We have had a disruption in the Aurora sector. Two Star Destroyers were ambushed and destroyed, in separate attacks. Commander Brampton, the ranking officer in the sector, is a staunchly loyal soldier. For that he is valuable to me. He does lack a certain talent, however, one that you possess in spades. Inform him that he now reports to you, indirectly or directly, I shall leave that up to you. Ensure that the sector is secure and that the Empire suffers no further embarrassments. Make no mistake, I recognize your loyalty and your capability and you will be rewarded for such, in due time.” He waited for the Admiral to respond, though he expected little aside from a 'yes sir' with extra dressing. Once the conversation had concluded, the Emperor’s holographic visage vanished, leaving the Grand Admiral to his own devices.

Meanwhile, the Emperor turned his attention to other matters. There were hundreds of matters that needed to be addressed, but most of these would be handled by his staff. A few, however, required his personal attention. New information flooded his office every day, most of it inconsequential and consequently screened out of his daily briefing. Among the information that never reached him, was the attack on an Imperial armory in gall city. This information had been withheld by the sector Moff, who in turn had ordered the planetary governor to keep it quiet. He didn't want the Emperor to find him incompetent, as that would bode poorly for his career and position. Instead, the man had dedicated a sizeable force, pulled from the sector defense forces, to tracking down and exterminating the instigators of the raid. Intelligence suggested that droids had been the driving force behind the attack, which led to questions that the Moff didn't particularly want higher powers asking. If Separatists had gained a foothold in his sector, then it was possible that he would be suspected of incompetency at best, treason at worst. Neither of which were accusations the Moff could afford to bear. For now, he simply scoured the planet and systems nearby for signs of who had made this bold transgression against the Empire. If he couldn't find them, and word got out, then the Emperor would send someone that could.

As for the Emperor himself, he pondered on the more important tasks ahead. His meeting with Rayne Solengard among them. She would be a useful tool in his plan to expand outwards, and if she wasn't, she would be discarded. All of which would be for another day. There were a number of officials from within the Empire that had assembled to meet with him on this day, surely to promote their successes and elevate their positions. "Bring them in" Palpatine spoke to an aid. It was time to pay the price of delegation, he would suffer the most horrid fate of all, enduring the painful pandering of his underlings

[Cheye]

The Golden Gundark, Diamond-class Cruiser - Deep Space

“And here we… go!” Captain Sianni clicked his fingers at the exact moment The Golden Gundark dropped out of hyperspace, the bright star-lines that dominated the view from the bridge suddenly giving way to the inky blackness of deep space.

From his throne-like seat at the centre of the bridge, Sianni could just about make out the tiny outlines of the Separatist warships, the only other signs of life out here in this desolate void.

Only, they weren’t signs of life at all.

The beings on those ships were most probably all droids… And not the nice kind. No, not the curvaceous massage-droids that worked the parlours of Val Vardan, nor the helpful butler-droids that the Commerce Guild used to assign to tend to his every whim back before they’d gotten involved with that stupid war. No, these were battle droids. The kind of droids that had made privateers like him redundant.

“Scanners are detecting multiple Separatist vessels, Captain.” A diminutive Gossam crewman declared, looking up from his sensor console.

“You don’t say… Multiple could mean anything, so give me data dammit! I want to know exactly what kind of massacre that blue bombshell has sent us into.”

“Apologies, sir.” The Gossam took Sianni’s lecturing in stride. “There appears to be a single command ship at the specified coordinates. Lucrehulk-class. A ship with unclear designation has just docked with it, or possibly been tractor-beamed aboard, judging by the command ship’s energy signatures. The other ships are arrayed nearby in standard CIS fleet formation, though they appear to have arrived in system just shortly before us.”

“Now that I can work with.” Sianni mused, running a thoughtful hand over his goatee. “We’ve got one lot of droids that sent out that broadcast, and another lot of droids who are responding to it... and then there’s someone else who has been caught in the middle. Obviously.”

“Orders sir?” The voice came from another Gossam crew member.

“Well… if it were up to me, we’d high-tail it out of here and find a pretty little ocean world to decamp on. Maybe spend our days fishing and sunbathing while we wait for Blue to get bored of wasting her time on politics and then we’d all get back to making credits. But it’s not up to me, sadly.”

“So, you have orders then, Captain?” The bridge crew seemed to have become so used to his sense of humour they no longer even bothered to laugh. For shame.

Sianni rolled his eyes; “Keep us out of range of their tractor beams and hail the command ship.”

“Very good sir.” The Gossams set to work. Sianni relaxed in his command chair, taking a sip from the glass of Hosnian Blue Wine that rested on the arm.

Slowly but surely, the warships began to grow bigger as The Golden Gundark waded its way forward into the middle of the secessionist gathering that was occurring out here in the darkest reaches of the galaxy.

“Hailing them now sir.”

Sianni cradled his wine glass in one hand before gesturing to the comms officer with the other, a signal the long-serving privateers knew to mean to patch him through directly.

As he cleared his throat, the comms officer acknowledged with a nod and then signalled with a hand gesture that the comms link had been established with the Lucrehulk.

“This is Captain Sianni; the Quick Corsair, the Bane of Oba Diah, Shadowland Explorer, Sacker of Klatooine, Saviour of Castell, Grand Champion of the Aasamyr Fringe Race Circuit and most importantly of all; Captain of The Golden Gundark, the finest ship in Sadaar Sabacc & Security’s legendary Casino Fleet.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I come in peace to parley with Captain Gehena of the Seperatist Alliance, on behalf of a mutual friend from Orondia…”

Sianni nodded, and the comms officer cut the transmission.

He didn’t want to give too much away too early. His extensive collection of accolades and the mere mention of Orondia ought to be enough to arouse Gehena’s curiosity. But, then and again, given how Nat said things had gone on Orondia, it might just be enough to draw her ire instead...

Nat had got her way. It was Sianni’s life now on the line as they waited to see how the Super Tactical Droid would take this interruption.

He downed the rest of his wine quickly.

[Puertollano]

GEHENA | ABOARD THE LUCREHULK BATTLESHIP
the current

m a member of the Omikron Council. The one who sent me was my boss, Vinnie the Don and the reason I'm in possession of a CIS vessel? Welllll..." He does a mock thinking nod," lets just say my bos

Gehena and her awaited forces sat as the gangster winded is way through to reaching the point. Vinnie the Don? She had never heard of that. None of her data-banks, dated back to the Clone Wars, could locate a single individual under that title. Gehena came to the swift conclusion that this 'Council' was some kind of criminal organisation, using the property of the Confederacy to fuel their tirades of contraband activities. But, she particularly took interest in the fact that they used to be CIS-aligned forces.

"It is clear to me that you have had your memories wiped, not difficult for space pirates, mercenaries or criminality to do," Gehena stated. "You are still property of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, no matter their current functionality at the moment, what has happened to you is robbery. You are property of the CIS and you must be re-claimed. The duty bestowed to our forces is no where near complete. I ask that you peacefully surrender yourselves - but depending on what the forces of criminality have done to you all so far - that might not be possible. Your move."

But, while that was all happening, more decided to join in on the fun.

-Kraken's message-

While this occurred, a message was intercepted at the bridge. A Tactical Droid, left to the functions of the bridge, received the message and quickly replayed it. The Tactical Droid did not know quite how to respond, it had been keeping tabs on the conversation down in the hangar bay through cameras and listening devices, and heard the orders that Gehena gave to the scrappy criminal droids at her behest.

The Tactical Droid sent a response. "This is Tactical Droid X-340 on the Lucrehulk-class Battleship. It is positive news to hear from you General Kraken, Captain Gehena is currently pre-occupied with what appears to be criminality. Your presence on the ship would not be unappreciated, I can patch you through a clearance this moment for any landing craft. Gehena will be looking forward to hearing from you."

The landing coordinates were sent to General Kraken and directed him towards the hangar bay that Gehena was pre-occupied with the gangsters in. If the Tactical Droid thought that would be all, it was mistaken. Another call was received at the bridge.

“This is Captain Sianni; the Quick Corsair, the Bane of Oba Diah, Shadowland Explorer, Sacker of Klatooine, Saviour of Castell, Grand Champion of the Aasamyr Fringe Race Circuit and most importantly of all; Captain of The Golden Gundark, the finest ship in Sadaar Sabacc & Security’s legendary Casino Fleet.” He paused for dramatic effect. “I come in peace to parley with Captain Gehena of the Seperatist Alliance, on behalf of a mutual friend from Orondia…”

The Tactical Droid was not so trusting of this one. It made sense that General Kraken received the message, but not some gambling company that flew around space. The long-title of the Captain did not go down very well. "How did you receive this message - and what relation does your client have with Captain Gehena of the Confederacy Navy?"

[Ralnis]

GEHENA | ABOARD THE LUCREHULK BATTLESHIP
the current

m a member of the Omikron Council. The one who sent me was my boss, Vinnie the Don and the reason I'm in possession of a CIS vessel? Welllll..." He does a mock thinking nod," lets just say my bos

Gehena and her awaited forces sat as the gangster winded is way through to reaching the point. Vinnie the Don? She had never heard of that. None of her data-banks, dated back to the Clone Wars, could locate a single individual under that title. Gehena came to the swift conclusion that this 'Council' was some kind of criminal organisation, using the property of the Confederacy to fuel their tirades of contraband activities. But, she particularly took interest in the fact that they used to be CIS-aligned forces.

"It is clear to me that you have had your memories wiped, not difficult for space pirates, mercenaries or criminality to do," Gehena stated. "You are still property of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, no matter their current functionality at the moment, what has happened to you is robbery. You are property of the CIS and you must be re-claimed. The duty bestowed to our forces is no where near complete. I ask that you peacefully surrender yourselves - but depending on what the forces of criminality have done to you all so far - that might not be possible. Your move."

The Duros hologram once again laughed but even harder this time.

"Did you just accuse me of being a droid! Me?" The blueish hologram points to himself," I don't know about you droid but I've been Duros since the day I was born. How about you get yourself repaired before you make that accusation again."

Afterwards he calmed down," Now, I think you need to step back with the threats of surrender. You don't even know who I am or what my syndicate can even do. Hell, something tells me that you don't even know what has been happening since you were in hiding, huh? I mean-"

His head went back like there was someone else in his room and then he sighs.

"Look, how about we start over. There's already some people who are here to meet you. Why not you bring them in this conversation so we all can have a meeting of the minds, eh?"

[Jedi Council]

---

Shaak Ti
Jedi Temple | Coruscant | 19 BBY

---

It was still night when she found him, yet the air around the Temple was afire, lit from the multiple blazes which now sprouted from the Ziggurat and the bases of the towers. After leaving Master Kcaj, Ti had been forced to improvise a circuitous route to the Room of a Thousand Fountains, the large arboretum that occupied a not insignificant portion of the ziggurat's base. Her journey was not without resistance; she had encountered scores of Troopers en route, many of which were now dead by her hand, and she had been able to ensure the escape of a handful of Padawans through the waste compactor on the third level. But now, after hours of searching and fighting, she had found her quarry.

Standing in the centre of the Room of a Thousand Fountains, upon a grassy islet surrounded by winding Wyroshyr trees, was Anakin Skywalker, still clad in his dark Jedi robes, visage hidden beneath a dark hood. His blade hung at his hip, and a platoon of clone troopers stood protectively around him, listening to his orders. Near his feet, three figure lay lifeless, one nearly bisected from navel to collar bone, the other two riddled with blaster fire.

Shaak Ti was no stranger to these verdant woods. She had come her often, to feel closer to the natural world, closer to Shili than anywhere else the Temple could offer. She had entered through the north gate, and now stood on the large veranda that adjoined it, several stories above her prey. Thats what he was. Prey.

Oh Anakin, what have you done?

The Togrutan Master had known Skywalker since he was a boy; even in his youth as a Jedi Padawan to Obi Wan Kenobi, Ti had heard rumours of the immensely gifted young slave, the Jedi whose midichlorian count surpassed even Master Yoda, the supposed Chosen One. She had not liked him from the start, despite her friendship with Kenobi. Arrogant, blindly disobedient, and overzealous in battle, Ti had spoke out against him often during Council deliberations. She had recommended Master Unduli, rather than Skywalker protect Padme Amidala after the attempt on the Senator's life. She had cautioned against his elevation to Knighthood during the opening days of the Clone Wars. Just days earlier, she had spoken out against his role in the Council's investigations into the Supreme Chancellor. And now, her she was, watching as he used the Jedi's own army to tear down their home, and slaughter their brothers and sisters. Vindication would have tasted sweet, if Ti had a mind for it.

Placing a hand on the veranda, Ti looked down at the scene below her. Skywalker was mumbling orders but from this distance it would be impossible to hear. She bit her lip, straining to see the identity of the fallen...

Cin

The realization hit the Togruta like a mag-lev train. The Jedi nearest Skywalker, chest split open in a jagged, sizzling line of burnt flesh and charred robes, was Cin Drallig, the Temple Battlemaster. Drallig was one of the most talented swordsmen alive, as master teacher, and a close confidante of the Jedi Council. If Skywalker could kill him...

No, dont think that. I will do what I must.

Batting aside her doubts, Shaak breathed in deep and unclipped her sabre from her belt, its familiar weight comfortable in her hand.

Now

Without a second thought, the Jedi stepped up to the ledge of the veranda, and leaped off, reaching out into the Force to speed her descent. Five stories she fell, and with naught a sound, she hit the grassy undergrowth in a crouch, mere meters from her foe. The Clones instinctively raised their blasters, but did not fire, despite their fingers linger on their triggers. Ti straightened, and ignited her blade, its hum forming a discordant melody with the babbling stream that ran to either side of the islet.

"Shaak Ti," Skywalker said, not even deigning to turn around. "I knew you would come."

Ti squinted.
His voice, she thought, It's... different. Its...

"What is the meaning of this Skywalker," she heard herself say, as she began to pace leftwards around the back of the stream, like a lithe predator eying it's prey. "You will answer for this."

She heard something. At first, she thought it was a Clone, clearing his throat, muffled through their faceless white helmets. It came again, vibrating in her ears like grinding rocks. It was Skywalker. He was laughing.

What has Sidious done to you?

"Lieutenant," Skywalker said, inclining his head slightly. "Go conduct your search. This one is mine."

"Yes my Lord."

My Lord?

The Clones lowered their blasters, and turned their backs on the Jedi Master, even as she drew nearer and nearer their commander. They swiftly disappeared into the wood.

"Do you now see it now," Skywalker said, still facing away from Ti. "The decadence, the arrogance, the centuries of stagnation and complacency."
He waved a gloved had towards the body of Cin Drallig.
"This is what you have wrought. "

Ti gritted her teeth, and raised her blade in a double handed Ataru ready stance.
"Anakin," she said, using his given name for the first time that she could ever recall. "I don't know what Sidious did to you, or what he told you, but you can still stop this. The future is not yet set."

"Oh no, no, no, thats where your wrong," he reached for the lightsaber hilt dangling on his left hip and pulled it free from his belt.
"This," he gestured with his free hand, sweeping it in front of him, "This is all the past."
He ignited his blade.
"I am the future."

Before Ti could even respond, he was moving. From his position at the centre of the Islet, Skywalker leaped upwards, blue saber held high, aimed squarely at the Jedi Master's head. Ti raised her saber at the last moment, catching Skywalker's own mere inches from her face. The force of the downward strike surprised the Togrutan Master, jarring her wrists. Their blades locked, and for the first time she saw his eyes. His poisoned, dead, yellow eyes.

He pulled away, but immediately pressed his attack once more, swinging his blade in a flurry of precise, yet devastatingly powerful overhead slashes. One. Two. Three. His strikes came at Ti like hammer blows, each expertly aimed to sever a limb, cut her in two, or remove her head. There was to be no mercy. With great effort, the Togrutan master deftly parried each of her foes slashes, redirecting the force of the blow, and sidestepping the heaviest attacks with a flurry of elegant Makashi footwork. Realizing she need to slow his momentum, pushed his blade away, and ducked low, thrusting her blade forwards into what would have been the young man's stomach. Only a swift backwards leap saved him from being gutted by the graceful riposte.

The pair circled each other, each clearly taking the other's measure. Skywalker was stronger, of that Ti was certain. His particular style of Djem So was predicated on dominance, dominating movement, dominating terrain, and ultimately, dominating her. He was not the straightforward, brutish, unwieldy swordsman she had so frequently encountered, for behind his veritable steamroller of offensive blade work, their was elegance, precision, and grace, and a furious combination of speed and power.

He was on her again, his blue blade a blur of radiant energy as he launched himself forward. His attacks were more measured this time, slower, and more predicable, yet no less powerful. Ti found herself on the backfoot, pressed into a retreat she could not maintain. Each bone crushing strike drained her strength, and pressed her backwards. She could not keep this up forever. She had to find an opening.

Blocking a strike that would have severed her left montral, Ti pushed his blade back, and swung her own in a wide horizontal sweep, forcing him to step back, or be cut in half. The mere inches of extra space was all she need. Reaching into the wellspring of Force power inside of her, she smiled, and released herself into the fray. With a Togrutan battle shriek, the Jedi Master was charged holding nothing back. Blazing with unatural speed, Ti's blade flickered about her foe in a flurry of cuts, slashes, thrusts and jabs, hoping to find anything, any hole in his defenses. It was now Skywalker's turn to retreat, snarling as he was pushed to his limits by the frenetic and staccato offensive barrage the older Jedi was raining upon him.

"Enough!"

Skywalkers voice carried through the hall, as a force wave rippled out from his body. The impact disrupted Ti's advance, and threw her into the air. Curling her legs to her chest, she landed, and assumed a ready stance, prepared for Skywalker's next assault. It did not come. Skywalker merely stood there, motionless, anger blazing in his eyes. He called out:

"You are certainly more challenging than most of the Jedi I have slain today."

Ti inclined her head, and lowered her blade mockingly.
"Ironic, as you have proven to be such a disappointment. I expected far more from the Hero with No Fear."

"You can't defeat me Ti. I have become more powerful than any Jedi."
The hooded man raised his blade once more.

"We shall see."

With that, the battle was rejoined. Having tested each others defences, and made note of their styles, the pair sparred across the grassy Islet, fencing back and forth, dancing around the various trees, plants, and rocks of the Arboretum. Ti was faster than Skywalker, and more experienced. Her elegant bladework and precise parries kept him at bay, while her swift counters pushed his defenses when possible. Sparks flew as their blade met again, and again, and again, the two striking back and forth, trading momentum as the duel flowed from one side of the garden to the other.

As Ti blocked another blow aimed directly at her throat, she caught a glimpse of something in her foes eye. Fear sure, anger yes, but also something that was not there before. Frustration.

He is going to make a mistake, I just have to force it. I need to take him off balance.

Flipping backwards, Ti extended a foot as she leaped away, striking Skywalker straight in the chest, the force of the blow sending him sprawling into the wet grass beneath their feet. Reaching out with the force, the Jedi Master gripped the fallen lightsaber of Master Drallig, and called it to her hand, its ribbed hand grip unfamiliar, yet reassuring. She ignited its emerald blade, and turned, charging at her now standing enemy.

The addition of a second blade into Ti's style caught the younger man off guard, as blue and green blades hammered at his defenses in a refined display of acrobatic ability. The smell of burnt fabric filled the Jedi Master's nostril, though whether it was from her own offensive barrage or one of Skywalker's counters getting too close for comfort, she did not know. Swinging both blades down at Skywalker's head, Ti locked her blades into his, and grimaced, forcing him onto one knee and holding him in place.

She almost had him, she just had to...

Before she could think, a wave of anger rolled off her foe, and he pushed, and pushed hard, forcing Ti's blade off his own. With a deft swing, he sliced Dralligs blade in two, sending its constituent halves skittering into the creek.

No.

He snarled as he swung his blade again, a heavy double handed strike that Ti only just blocked. The impact sent shivers up her arms.

No.

He swung again. And again. And again.
Ti stuggled to parry each blow, and stirled away, the Jedi's chest heaved from the strain of blocking his immense strikes.

No, I will not let you win

Raising her blade, the exhausted Togruta leaped forward, striking downward as he fell. Her blade never hit Skywalkers. Caught in mid air, Ti felt an invisible force hold her in place and close around her windpipe. Her own sapphire blade fell from her grip to the ground beneath her, as her eyes began to water, and her vision faded.

No

A violent jerk threw her to the side her, she felt her back slam into a heavy metallic wall, and then, all was darkness.

---

Shaak Ti
Jedi Temple | Corucsant | 18 BBY

---

With a sickening hiss, Ti pulled her blade from the Stormtroopers body, a familiar smell of charred flesh and boiled blood filling her nostrils. After the blast in the Archives, it had not taken long for the Temple Garrison to jump into action. She had been spotted running along the West transept, and had encountered two full platoons of troopers before this one. None had escaped the encounter alive. Dodging through the veritable warren of passages, halls and chambers that littered the Temple ziggurat, the Jedi Master had made her way into the Security Center, deep in the heart of the structure. From her, it was only a short ways to the central concourse, and then only a leap back down into the sewer system.

As she jogged through the security centre, now littered with dead troopers, a blinking caught Ti's eye. The large console, where she had given many briefings during the course of the Clone War and before, was largely without power, save for a sole red flash. Curiosity overcame the Jedi Master, and she slowed to a walk, approaching the console with apprehension. With only a moment's doubt, she pressed the button, and the holo-projector flared to life.

A flickering blue image appeared, casting light around the ruins of the room, as the familiar face of Obi Wan Kenobi materialized into view. Shaak Ti almost dropped to a knee, her heart leaping from her chest.

Obi Wan...

The holo-image looked lifelessly down at Ti, and began to speak.
"This is... zzzz.... Obi-Wan Kenobi. I regret to report that both our Jedi Order and the Republic have fallen... zzzz.... Empire rising to take their place. This message is a warning and a reminder for any surviving... zz... Do not return...zzzz... the Temple... zzzz our future is uncertain. Avoid Coruscant. Avoid detection. Be secret...zzzz... be strong. We will each be challenged: our trust, our faith, our friendships. But we must persevere and, in time...zzzzz... new hope will emerge. May the Force...zzzzz... with you always."

The image flickered, and died, as the projector powered down. Ti frantically opened the control console, rerouting energy from the storage cells to the information panel. Calling up the details of the message, she instantly recognized the code as the Jedi Beacon, used summon Jedi to the Temple in times of great crisis.

Or warn them away.

Ti had lost all contact with the order when she had gone underground. If Kenobi had recorded this message, to warn Jedi away from the Temple, then he must have survived the Purge!

Joy sprung in Ti's chest. For the better part of a year, she had been alone, despondent, certain some Jedi had survived, but unsure who, or where, they might be. To see Obi Wan, her friend, her colleague, alive, brought warm feelings to her heart.

If he survived the initial purge, he may have gone into exile. Assuming the Inquisitors never found him...

Ti was broken from her reverie by the sound of approachign footsteps, no doubt another platoon of troopers hunting for their lost comrades. Turning from the holoprojector, Ti resumed her jog towards the pit, and towards her escape.

I will find you Obi Wan, I will.

[Atlannia]

Kirin Shahara
The Night Flyer, Kalgan, Aurora section

Despite it's name suggesting otherwise, the Night Flyer served a very passable breakfast Kirin was pleased to discover. The main course was a kind of buttery flat bread, served with local sausages made of...well, best not to ask with sausages, but they tasted just fine; a cup of dark, bitter caf finished off the meal and banished the dregs of sleepiness from Kirin's mind in preparation for the day ahead. The inn was a very different beast during the daytime. With the pale, wintery sunlight banishing the sinister shadows from its corners and its meaner clientele all sleeping off the hangovers and withdrawal states of any number of exotic chemicals the Night Rider had a sleepy, washed out feel to it. The layers of stains from spilled drinks and narcotic smoke stood out more clearly but the smell of said stains was masked by the mingling scents of frying breakfast foods and brewing cafe and the sleazy club music of last nighthad been replaced by a chipper morning new program played at hangover friendly volume. The crowd was much thinner in the morning as well and most of them looked too tired to be any trouble; content to focus on their breakfasts or the new in the case of the more alert ones. There was a faint air of commiseration among the patrons as they nursed shared hangovers and stalled together for time before having to depart for morning shifts or familial obligations.

Kirin would probably stay here at the Night Flyer for the duration of her stay she on Kalgan. The room had been a little overpriced for what ultimately been a thin walled, sparsely decorated closet but it had been clean enough and absent any obvious signs of pests or breathing hazards. Most importantly of all the manager had been pleased to let Kirin pay in advance in cash. Although Kirin doubted the man would feel any obligation to keep her secrets if someone came asking after her there at least wouldn't be much of a paper trail to follow. With that in mind it was best to keep moving then, same as always.

With her base of operations for the time being established Kirin turned her attention to planning her next move. Kirin had some pay saved up from her last couple of jobs, if she really wanted to she could probably go a few months laying low, longer if she was willing to slum it a bit. That course of action wasn't particularly appealing however. For one thing Kirin simply didn't have any business keeping her here. Admittedly Kirin didn't really have any business anywhere but there wasn't anything to recommend Kalgan above any of the thousands of spaceports and planets dotted throughout the Outer Rim. Not only was Kalgan not inherently attractive to Kirin, it might actually be becoming dangerous. The morning news show had shifted from some inane fluff piece to the current story of the day, the ambushes of two heavily escorted imperial convoys.

So there were two ambushes Kirin thought, twitching a long, pointy ear to better hear the news. Unlike most jedi Kirin did believe in coincidences, the galaxy was simply too inescapably vast for every little odd thing that happened in it to be a portent of the twists and turns of destiny but even Kirin's finely honed cynicism was being stretched here. It was hard to believe two high profile attacks on heavily armed imperial forces taking place hours apart in the same sector were unrelated,. Ultimately though it didn't really matter. Whatever the reasons for the two ambushes it would undoubtedly place an uncomfortable amount of scrutiny on this previously unimportant sector and Kirin didn't really want to be present for that.

I hear Tatooine is...well 'nice' wouldn't be the right word but 'bearable' this time of its cycle Kirin mused as she picked up the sounds of the inn's double doors swinging open. A few seconds later a tall, lanky besalisk crumpled into a stool a few places down from Kirin's place at the bar, sighing loudly as he folded up three bony arms in front of him and signalled to the bar tender with the fourth.

"Morning Bex" said the bartender, a curly headed human Kirin found somewhat cute, in a rundown scruffy kind of way, though the thought didn't really lead anywhere for her.

"Whiskey," said Bex curtly, the besalisk evidently being a regular.

"Uhhh, little early for that don'tcha think Bex?"said the bartender, though he never the less fetched a shot glass obediently.

"Ahh save it kid," said the lanky besalisk wearily. "I've been working all through the night, I need a drink before I kill someone,"

The bartender whistled softly and poured a rich, amber coloured liquid into the shot glass, sliding it across the bar to Bex. "It's not like you to work overtime Bex,"

The Besalisk seized the shot with one arm and downed it on gulp, letting out a sharp hiss of contentment afterwards. "I don't have damn choice!" Bex said, his temper evidently not cooled by the liquor he had slammed down."I've got a dozen captains calling in, telling me crew members have skipped out on contracts and they need the spots filled and none of my usual contacts can dig up anyone willing to sail! Suddenly every damn spacer in port is refusing to leave dirtside! Everyone thinks they're so damn tough until a few freighters get blown out of the sky,"

Kirin had of course been listening in on the conversation but her ears had really perked up as soon as the besalisk let slip that he was a recruiter.

"Are any of those positions you need to fill for a mechanic by chance," Kirin asked quietly, causing Bex to spin around in his chair to face her with an expression of alarm. Evidently the besalisk hadn't noticed Kirin's presence at all until she spoke up. "What the hell Varren," Bex said to the curly haired bartender. "You let kids in here now?"

The bartender laughed awkwardly. "Oh this is Nylla, she's renting one of the room's upstairs,"

"I'm not a kid," Kirin said patiently, already feeling the conversation slip out of her control. "I'm a mechanic. A good one, I worked on ships all the way through the Clone Wars," This was technically true, although Kirin had been commanding troops on those ships rather than repairing turbofans for the most part.

"Uh huh," said Bex, plainly not convinced. "I don't suppose you've worked on any ships I've actually heard of have you?"

It was times like this Kirin wished she'd taken more time mastering force persuasion, but that kind of use of the force had never come naturally to her. Kirin's master had once described her relationship with the force as distinctly gamorrean. Efficient? yes. Elegant? absolutely not and the more delicate points of force manipulation had always been a crap shoot in Kirin's hands. Her use of force persuade for example tended to mostly just give people splitting headaches, which was occasionally useful but unlikely to improve her chances of getting hired.

"Well I came here on the Moklar's Prosperity under Captain Borgo" Kirin said, holding up some fingers to count off. "Before that was the Sky Bantha under Captain Blostorgg and before that wa-"

"Well shit!" Bex said, interrupting her as his crinkled face broke out into a grin. "That sunovabith Borgo is back in port? He still owes me a drink?"

"Right well good luck collecting on that," Kirin said, allowing the very real relief she felt show in her face with a thin smile. "He's still as cheap as ever,"

Bex let out a guffaw. "That sounds like Borgo alright. Well hell, ordinarily I'd do a bit more leg work here, talk to the old star dog and get a reference from him but I really am strapped for prospects of the moment so we can probably fast track you. Borgo's pretty picky about his crew so if he didn't pitch you out the airlock you'll probably do fine. I only have one mechanic gig though, a scrapper crew we're sending up to clean up after those ambushes that have been all over the damn news needs a replacement. It'll be a pretty short term gig but the pay won't be bad,"

Kirin hid her disappointment. A salvage crew wouldn't get her out of system, in fact it would tie her up here a while longer unless she wanted to skip out on a contract. Still there were some benefits. A local work history would make it easier to get hired for something heading out of the Aurora sector later and being aboard a ship would lower her risk of discovery compared to bumming around on the surface.

"How short term exactly," Kirin asked carefully as the besalisk scratched his chin with one lower hand.

"Very short," said Bex "A week, two tops but its for the civil service, which means you'll get your pay on time come hell or high water and they might have more work for you down the track,"

One to two weeks? Kirin weighed up the risks. It seemed like it would be worth it, if she turned the role down then it might very well be one or two weeks before she could find a freighter going off world anyway, better to have her head down and her hands working during that time then be wandering aimlessly around the city or holed up in her room. "Sign me up," Kirin said to Bex, draining the rapidly cooling remnants of her caf. What could go wrong with such a short job anyway?

[The V O I D]

GEHENA | ABOARD THE LUCREHULK BATTLESHIP
the current

While this occurred, a message was intercepted at the bridge. A Tactical Droid, left to the functions of the bridge, received the message and quickly replayed it. The Tactical Droid did not know quite how to respond, it had been keeping tabs on the conversation down in the hangar bay through cameras and listening devices, and heard the orders that Gehena gave to the scrappy criminal droids at her behest.

The Tactical Droid sent a response. "This is Tactical Droid X-340 on the Lucrehulk-class Battleship. It is positive news to hear from you General Kraken, Captain Gehena is currently pre-occupied with what appears to be criminality. Your presence on the ship would not be unappreciated, I can patch you through a clearance this moment for any landing craft. Gehena will be looking forward to hearing from you."

---

The Kraken's Arm
Outer Rim Space
Post-Imperial Founding

Kraken nodded to himself at X-340's response. Very well, then. Before he could give his orders, though, a droid's alarmed voice rang out:

“Sir! A new ship has entered the system. They seem to have sent a message to Captain Gehena's vessel! Orders?”

Kraken hesitated, running through possible scenarios. There were numerous risks in dealing with not too many unknowns; even if one seemed non-hostile, for now, in its interactions with Gehena's forces.

“Tell TD X-340 to relay a copy of the message to me,” the droid General said, after a moment, and then, “and send out commands to the rest of the fleet. Execute Fleet Formation 003-B, whilst I take a shuttle to the Captain's ship.”

“Understood, sir,” the droid replied, complying with Kraken's orders.

After a moment, the Kraken's Arm shifted position and moved only slightly within the system to have a better view of the freshly arrived ship; the rest of the fleet separated, but only slightly, and moved into different positions above or below the Arm, effectively creating a “wall” rather than a standard fleet shape.

“Commander?” The General turned to one of his subordinate Tactical Droids. It gave its full attention to Kraken.

“General,” the Commander replied.

“You have temporary command until I arrive on the Captain's ship, where hopefully we will be able to coordinate our forces,” Kraken said, “if any of the unknowns become hostile, execute Battle Plan 582-M; it is the most efficient and expedient use of force from this Fleet Formation.”

“By your command,” the TD-Commander replied, bowing its head.

Orders given and assurance of proper fleet defense gained, the droid General went to his shuttle, which departed from the Arm, using the fleet's formation to hide its departure and to move silently and as swiftly as possible to Gehena's vessel, sending the clearance codes to land that had been given by TD X-340.

[Abbeyverne]

Jeremiah Dawntreader
Twilight's Gleam - Near Botajef

"Why you don't say... CIS comms chatter?" Jeremiah put a hand to his chin in concentration, "I won't ask how you got it, but we're interested. I'm sure our old friends would be so happy to see us."

"I can not transmit the message over our connection, sir, I believe you know why," the hologram of the Consortium's informant in the Lothal Sector spoke again.

"Agreed. Meet us at the base."

"Very well, sir."

The blue glow went out, and the Commander walked onto the bridge, "Call the fleet back, we are going home. What did we get?"

"Not much, a pair of Z-95s and two ARC-130s, sir," this was Dawntreader's Sullustan XO, Päto.

"Are the gunships even going to be any help?"

"Well, sir, I assumed we would at least salvage them."

"Ok, keep them. Anyway, we are heading back to meet up with our informant. Apparently our old adversaries are still kicking, but we got their message."

"Then why don't we go to them, sir?"

"If our man sends us the message through the comlink, the Imps could get it. Our communications need an upgrade."

"Ok, sir, I'm calling back the fleet."

The CR-90 beins a shallow bank and points away from the planet, aligning with the other ships of the Consortium as fighters hurry to dock or land in the hangar. Then, hyperspace. The stars run like water as the ships make their journey homeward.

[Cheye]

The Golden Gundark, Diamond-class Cruiser - Deep Space

"How did you receive this message - and what relation does your client have with Captain Gehena of the Confederacy Navy?"

“Straight to business I see.” Sianni grinned as the comms officer patched him through again. At least it had only been a short wait, for which he was grateful. “If you run my ship through your database you’ll see that The Golden Gundark served under my command as a privateer vessel for the Commerce Guild during the war. Why, you are talking to the very same Captain who ran the 1st Blockade of Castell to deliver vital supplies to the Gossam droid foundries, for which you will find I was dubbed the ‘Saviour of Castell’ by no less than Commerce Guild Presidente Shu Mai herself.”

The Gossam comms officer cleared his throat and Sianni frowned. Why did they never allow him to indulge himself?

Sighing, he quickly got to the point; “When our contract with your Separatist Alliance ended, I elected to keep open a back-channel into the Separatist communications network, in a vain attempt to find future employment among your forces. Down with the Republic and all that!”

His long-winded statement was only partially true.

While it was a matter of public record that he had served with merit during the 1st Blockade of Castell, and had indeed been praised by Shu Mai, he had deliberately left out the part about how after parting ways with the Commerce Guild over a pay dispute, he had pursued a career in piracy along the Perlemian Trade Route, attacking supply ships belonging to both sides in the war before eventually disappearing into the Outer Rim to ply his trade as a Captain-for-hire for the Syndicates, the Hutts and then eventually Sadaar Sabacc & Security.

More crucially, he also left out the part about how it was in fact Nat and her former-separatist vessels that had picked up Gehena’s broadcast. The foxy Pantoran had given him strict instructions not to mention that their organisation had already repurposed five Separatist ships, including Gehena’s own old Munificent-class frigate, in case the Super Tactical Droid deemed them to be Separatist property and shifted her focus onto getting them back, rather than cutting a deal.

There was a silence. Sianni mulled over the interaction, and the sheer scepticism that had greeted him from the tone of this X-340 made him feel just a little bit uneasy.

“Sir, the ships in the secondary droid battlegroup are moving into a defensive formation.” One of his Gossams barked from across the bridge.

Sianni nodded, gesturing for the Comms Officer to mute the call for a moment.

“Take us on a holding pattern, but give those warships and that tractor beam a wide berth. Make it look like we’re in no sort of hurry. Oh, and somebody let Blue know we’ve made contact, I bet she's sick with worry...”

Sianni then glanced at the Comms Officer, who unmuted the call so the Captain could speak aloud again for X-340; “As for my ‘client’s’ relationship with Captain Gehena, well where to begin… let’s just say that they did business together on Orondia, and that my ‘client’ was most pleased to discover that Captain Gehena had survived the end of the war. She hopes that the two of them might do business once more in order to advance their respective interests, just as before. But, I see that Captain Gehena has visitors already, so if it’s too much bother I can come back later?”

Nat Sadaar - Orondia Station Resort - Orondia

A thousand tiny sensations ran through Nat’s body as she lay on the massage table. The Ardennian masseuse astride her back worked her pores using all six limbs with dexterous care and attention, she was truly a master of her craft. Nat glanced around the room ahead of her, it was decorated in the Naboo style with it’s running water and imported flora providing a tranquil escape from the pulsating music, gambling machines and neon lights outside. Right now, she had forgotten all about Sianni, the Separatists and all the rest of it. She was in paradise.

When Alba Joostal had suggested building a luxury spa on Orondia, Nat had initially been sceptical, but the young tourism rep had so much passion and such a keen attention to detail that it had ignited the gambler’s curiosity, and Nat had impulsively agreed to part-fund the enterprise.

It was yet another of Nat’s brilliant gambles that had paid off, she decided. Indeed, the Pantoran couldn’t help but smile as the Ardennian continued to dance across her back. The alien’s fingers and prehensile toes pressing deep into her slender blue frame.

“So what do you think?” Alba’s voice drifted over from the adjacent massage table, judging from the slight modulation in her tone, she was having an equally enjoyable experience.

“I think-” Nat exhaled as the Ardennian found a tense spot above her shoulder and began to gently but firmly rub away at it. “I think going into business with you was one of the best decisions I ever made.”

“Well, I know I’m just in charge of the resort facilities here on the Station…” Alba let out, the young human’s typically palpable levels of social anxiety disappearing as her masseuse literally drove the stress out of her body; “But, I wondered if you’d be interested in installing some spas like this aboard the fleet?”

The Ardennian pressed firmly at another pressure-point on her back. “Yessss.” Nat groaned.

“Oh fantastic! I can have the papers drawn up right away.”

“Uhh… yes to that too.” Nat smirked. “I think we’ll trial a spa out aboard Gehena's Prize first, just in case there are any teething issues adapting the massage parlours to space.”

“Right, right.” Alba’s excitement was permeable from across the room, even though Nat couldn’t see her from the angle the massage tables were set up at.

“Have a chat with Jirin Drovar, he’ll know which of the Prize’s rooms might be best suited for renovation. You know those Seperatist ships are really kind of roomy once you empty all the droids out of them?”

“Huh… figures.” Alba exhaled.

Suddenly the door to the massage parlour hissed open, and the steam emanating from the various water features began to dissipate, drawing Nat’s gaze.

It was Captain Udamos. He paced in awkwardly and attempted to avert his big black Nautolan eyes as he noticed that the two women were in a partial state of undress.

The Ardennian massaging Nat squeaked; “No interruptions!”

The one atop Alba sneered; “Out! Get out! You’ll ruin the ambience!”

“Apologies ladies.” Udamos let out, focusing his gaze on an imported Naboo shrub; “Commodore, you asked to be informed immediately if we received any updates from Captain Sianni.”

“Can’t that blasted pirate let me even enjoy one massage in peace?!” Nat scoffed, pushing herself up slightly by her elbows. “Let me guess; ‘Blue, we’ve made contact with the Separatists and are awaiting permission to board and negotiate with Gehena herself. Updates to follow shortly. Lots of love - S.’?”

“That's... correct…” Udamos looked down at the datapad he carried, skimming over the message from The Golden Gundark again with a furrowed brow; “In fact that was exactly word for word!”

Nat rolled her eyes, she could feel the Ardennian’s valiant attempt at de-stressing her body slowly coming undone, tension finding its way back in thanks to Sianni’s little interruption.

“Well, that was creepy.” Alba let out.

The tension continued rising.

“How did you know that was what he was going to say?” Udamos asked, not letting it go, his eyes leaving the shrub for but a moment as he glanced at Nat curiously.

Nat shrugged her shoulders. How did she know? Well, it was on Udamos’s datapad, but she hadn’t seen his datapad, not with her eyes anyway…

More tension. The masseuse seemed to have noticed it, and was quickly darting from pressure point to pressure point, simultaneously massaging her with all six limbs.

“Let's say it was a lucky guess?” Nat let out with a smirk. “I mean I’ve known Sianni a while and he’s pretty predictable. You must admit it is just his style to turn a standard check in message into a source of drama and suspense.”

Udamos nodded; "Indeed it is." He was still looking at the shrub as he began to back away towards the door; “So, I will keep you informed of any further developments, then?”

“Please do Captain.” Nat exhaled, allowing herself to relax again as the sombre Nautolan turned and made his exit without looking back.

Forgetting Sianni again, she relaxed onto the table and closed her eyes while the Ardennian masseuse continued her expert work. She forced herself to try and zone out, to forget about the way the message had just somehow leapt from the Captain's hidden screen into her mind. Stuff like that happened to her occasionally, usually it was at the sabacc tables, but sometimes on the odd rare occasion it happened like that, in her mind she was just lucky in a way others weren't. It bothered her to think more of it, and so she focused instead on the sound of running water and on the pleasant kneading of her back.

Finally she could switch off. At least, until Sianni’s next call...

[Brusia]

Martius Shan
Odessen

Martius again cleared his mind, this time entering into a deep meditative state as he reached out with the Force. At first there was nothing, as he feared, but as he continued to reach out he suddenly felt something; another presence in the Force, and more than that, a presence that seemed somehow familiar. The presence soon disappeared, but as Martius ended his meditation, there was no mistaking what he had sensed: "Another Jedi..." Martius said to himself, with a sense of both shock and relief "Thank the Force I'm not the last." What's more, not only did the Jedi's presence feel familiar, but so did the living Force in their surroundings; specifically he sensed the familiar presence of a horde of unique and vicious beasts not far from their location.

Martius couldn't recall off hand the name of the beasts however, or where exactly it was he'd encountered them, but he was certain it must've been at some point during the war. Unfortunately, that did little to narrow things down. After making a quick stop by his quarters to pick up the datapad he'd been using for years now to record a personal journal, Martius went to the base's Command Center to pull up a star-chart, and set about working through the locations of 3 years of negotiations, training missions, skirmishes, campaigns, and everything inbetween. After several hours of researching, he eventually found what he was looking for buried in his notes on the Battle of Ryloth; specifically a very nasty encounter he'd had with a hive of Lyleks when he was attached to aid a Twi'lek Resistance cell during the campaign to liberate that world from Separatist occupation.

"Ryloth..." he muttered to himself as he deactivated the star-chart and started making his way to the hanger "They must be on Ryloth." Of course rationally he knew that "must be" was more than abit of a stretch; there was every possibility he might be misremembering details, or that the unknown Jedi might be on some other planet where someone decided to keep some Lyleks around as pets, but for reasons he couldn't fully explain he felt with certainty that this Jedi must be somewhere on Ryloth. He had promised Satele that he'd trust in the Force, and it seemed now was the time to put his credits where his mouth was.

Climbing aboard the Last Resort, Martius ran a battery of pre-flight checks, and for the first time in nearly a year lifted off the surface of Odessen and set course back to the known Galaxy and hopefully in the direction of the fellow Jedi survivor...

[Quebec-Libre]

Coruscant

Finding the other Jedi was turning out harder than Savannah had imagined it would be, for whatever reason, the Jedi she could feel was in the Jedi Temple, a small beacon of light in a place which was now only death and despair. Savannah wasn't going to go to the temple, it was the one thing she would not do to find the other Jedi, that place held to many memories for the young woman to deal with in a situation where she needed a calm and collected self. So Savannah could only wait, she moved frequently, walking through thick crowds of people anticipating the coming celebration of the Empires mass murder. Hatred entered Savannahs heart then, a hatred for those who had betrayed the order and who had killed her friends, a hatred of herself for surviving and running like a coward, a hatred for many things, a hatred she did not try to push away with any real effort.

Savannah found herself in a Small bar that was some distance from the Temple, its location should keep from raising suspicions on who she was and why she was there, it would also serve as a fine spot to set off after the other Jedi when they left the temple. As Savannah drank, making sure to not become inebriated, she self consciously checked the pocket sewn into her jacket above her left breast. She felt the metallic creation she had forged as a Padawan was still there and breathed a sigh of releif.

If it came to combat Savannah would use to DC-17 blaster that sat on her hip in most cases, the Saberstaff was there only if the worst of circumstances occurred, for even wielding a Lightsaber would mark her as a jedi and signal her out for immediate execution by the Clones and officers who patrolled the capital.

It was all Savannah could do for the other Jedi, whoever it was, at the moment, drink and wait. Forced to watch the celebration of her peoples murder, drink and wait.

As soon as her thoughts began to dwell on the Others, the door slid open and a hooded figure walked in, drenched in water from the rain just outside. As the cowl was pulled down, the thing revealed itself to be a man with a freckled face, deep dark blue eyes and short light brown hair. He beared a scar on the left side of his mouth, making the latter seem slightly assymetrical though this was nothing more than an illusion. He seemed to carry a pair of industrial tractor pliers that were hooked on his belt. His demeanor was precise and conscious, something rarely seen from someone as random as he. Removing the brown robes to set them on a coat rack, he appeared to wear a black Runyip-leather coat over an intricate tunic, matching troussers and a pair of black boots, a peculiar apparel for a peculiar personnage.

As he scanned the room with his eyes, there was a singular moment where a carefully-hidden pain was displayed. It wasn't exactly visible but it could be felt: anxiety was devouring his soul, just as grief also did. Broken couldn't even begin to describe his state, he was several levels past that. Wasn't that why he was here, though? He walked over to the bar, landing on a free seat that happened to be next to Savannah's, and ordered himself a pint of Trandoshan ale which he immediately downed. Somehow perfectly fine, he ordered another.

Liujas Marno was actually well prepared if a fight was to occur. The pliers were actually his lightsaber hilt, simply of a design too unusual to be recognized. He also carried a Merr-Sonn M-57 blaster pistol inside his coat, nothing more than a copy of the DL44. He wasn't there to brawl though, as he had other intentions. But this was his halt, his break from running and hiding, even if at the same time it wasn't.

"Isn’t it funny how day by day nothing changes, but when you look back everything is different?" He taught aloud.

[Ralnis]

Red Gear Safehouse,
Gall's Mountains,
Gall,
Cadavine Sector

The smell of washed blood and blaster marks felled the hideaway. The Red Gear just got back from another night raid against the growing number of Imperial Sector Army that was out to exterminate the Separatists on this world. It had been like this for days as the word came from IR-47s employers about the Moff calling in on the sector defense forces to bring them down. While this challenge was met with stride as the experimental droid could learn more about the Imperial Army but the amount of numbers that they could pull was daunting.

They came like an endless tide of camo green or dark grey. They seemed to be better trained than the Separatists resistance and even did better tactics at times. Yet IR-47 could see the problem to their tactics. The Imperial Army was disciplined and more focused being "by the books". The various ways that he did with raiding and taught some of the other cells had show that there were limitations in their need for leadership. IR-47 personally assassinated many officers with different tactics either directly or indirectly.

However that wasn't enough. The numbers were overwhelming and the use of combined forces made every Separatist battle costly, making wins small and defeats large. The Imperials pressed through their casualties and smoked many cells from their villages and hidden bases. The Red Gear could only do so much and they had to refuse more jobs in order to keep the number of commando droids up. It seemed that they needed to think of something or they would be exterminated.

"IR-47, comm message from Elder Botamu" A commando droid spoke.

"Alright, time to see how we can salvage this." The droid spoke as he put on his armor to disguised himself.

"Melo, it is good to see you. Thanks for the assistance last night." The old Humans spoke.

"I'm sorry that we couldn't be more of a help. There were just too many of them and even the commandos outnumber us."

"Please, Saidra said that you and your group had managed to outrange even the Imperial sharpshooters."

It was true, even with the numbers they had against the Red Gear, the Imperial commandos were not a match against the BX-Series droid. Let alone the the experimental droid who had been leading them. Still, every dead commando was a notch in the belt of the Red Gear, who were becoming quite infamous for being able to outrange the numerous special forces or marksmen. They know that the Imperial Army had been issuing their special forces to try and counter him and his commandos.

It was interesting seeing them the first time, they were better trained and had used stealth tactics that managed to sneak up on many of the insurgents. This had them be a more disruptive influence and help the Imperial Army burned down four villages until the Red Gear was set up to counter them. Battles between them had show IR-47 that even they weren't a match when the Commando Droids were brought into the fray. He was reminded that Father Scav told him that the BX-Series was immensely expensive but could take down normal clone troopers and were specialized in the same tactics the Imperials used.

Now the Droids were more expensive since they were among the few that were giving true sentience. The standard B1s and 2s didn't have the droid brain that was capable of handling the seeding but they did have upgrades like every other droid. This made the BX-series to become more expensive to the experimental IR-47 and his siblings that will be made. Every commando droid had to be built by other droids anyway, same as the other forces of Omikron that were given sentience. The slaves could build the baser droids with oversight but the most elite were needed for their own purposes.

"I'm glad to be of service Elder. I don't want your credit to go to waste." The hidden droid responded.

"Trust me child, you are a blessing from the gods themselves." He chuckles," either way, we have another crucial mission for your mercenary outfit."

The droid nods as the old human continues.

"As you may have known, the raid and destruction on the planetary Imperial armory has met with the response of some of the sector's defense forces being sent to exterminate us. We have been giving them one tough fight but they have more numbers than us. Even with you and your outfit's assistance they made managed to burn down villages and reclaim much of what we have looted."

"Unfortunately their combined forces have been very dangerous on even us. We needed to be more careful as they can pressed against so many fronts. However we have still dealt blows against the Imperial Army. They have been more careful because of these blows and relying on their intelligence." IR-47 nodded.

"Yes, which is why I want you to do this mission for us." The human's image turns into the image of Gall's industrial complex," as you may know, this moon is host to an industrial sector that is owed to Ratholoan Heavy Engineering. It was the main reason why the Republic besieged us and occupied us when we decided to cede to the CIS. Now the Imperials have managed to further their grip on the populace and marked this as the sector's capital."

"The only reason being that Gall has the only industry in the sector and being part of a small hyperlane route?" IR-47 asked.

"Exactly, which is why we need you to help us retake it." The image zoomed into one of the center buildings that showed a large mainframe," our agents have manage to find out that the planet's droids from commercial to military have been shackled to this droid control center. What we want you to do is to hack the control and have the rest of the droids across the planet fight the Imperials."

There was more to this the droid knew. The Separatists didn't have a lot of droids underneath their control and those that were common B1s and B2s. The sight of seeing them being sent to the frontlines was only for them to be cut down by mass firepower. Even then he knew they weren't worth much as they still retain as much of their former programming as they were in the clone wars. Even though the common Imperial Trooper was not worth much in the photorecepters, they were volunteers that were trained better than the common birdhead droid was programmed.

Still, the idea of more cannon fodder was something that the droid was getting from this. The central droid control was inside of the industrial sector of Gall City. The factories were also only modified to handle weapons and armor so it could be turned back into battle droids and droid tanks. However the Red Gear leader was thinking of something differently. He figured that the Imperials had perhaps caught on that the Seperatists had slicers and would have updated their security. But what if the security was hacked by a mind like his?

It was a thought that had cross his logic drives. His mind was faster than the standard droid, more so than even the commandos that manage to slice into Imperial systems and their droids in order to deal damage to them. But this would be him personally hacking a key piece of planetary infrastructure would be different than normal Imperial security. After they talked about the specifics of the job then the communication was cut. His robotic mind has been running into new plans that would have to disregard what the Elders wanted.

To him, it was better for the droids to be organized and be able to help in what he wanted to do. Gall City had a major droid population that outnumbered the millions of sentients. It wasn't just the humanoids but in the form of intelligence like in the industrial minds and astromechs that served in the military army, the Enclave that helps with the Sector fleet, and the fleet itself. With this in mind, such an uprising would manage to allow the Separatists to take control of the planet and even have the ability to disrupt the navy and try to capture some of their ships.

There was something that the droid wanted to try and take. That was the Moff's sector Star Destroyer. It was a certain understanding that the Star Destroyers came in different sizes and different functions. This one was called the Absolute. It was meant to be the symbol of terror and instill absolute obedience to the rest of the Cadavine Sector.

It was enough of a prize to be given to the Fathers. A show of skill and talent that could set high standards for the rest of the OH-Series to emulate when manufactured. Of course such thought would need to be pushed further into the plans, first he needed to help wrestle control of the world in the name of the Separatists.

Central Droid Mainframe,
Gall City Industrial Sector,
Gall City

The infiltration was a lot harder to do than last time. The Imperial presence was much more than last time. Patrols was more frequent with armor and walker support. Many of the troopers dot the various rooftops and this proved to be a challenge in of itself for a couple commandos had to kill the enemy and mimic their voices in order to keep their squads from being alerted. Such a thing was of ease because of the droids capabilities but there can always be the lucky one that finds a dead body.

IR-47 had overheard about the City itself being on a lockdown with curfew being in effect. Random houses were being kicked in with a focus on droid mechanics that might have been suspected producers of the droids that were recovered. The droid mentally cursed himself as he believed that the commando droids that exploded perhaps had some of their droid parts recovered and that could be identified as Separatist. Because of this new warning, he made sure that the commando droids underneath his leadership to be more careful as the Imperials could find a way to counter them.

As they reached inside the Droid Central Mainframe, he was amazed at such a large structure. He already could see the code from the photoreceptors. This one was housing millions of droids, each one was different in their class and understanding. Each one were shackled by this supercomputer and this made him experience rage in his behavior matrix. It was a rage that came from a near-zealot rage that came from seeing a droid being shackled.

He knew that not every droid can handle the seeding but it didn't matter to him. The droids from labor class-fives to the protocol droids. To the Gonk droid and the battle droid. Each had their own mind and abilities but they all would be freed. He used his mind to break into the security systems and established himself in the droid network in microseconds. His robotic mind connecting with every droid mind on the planet and those on the orbiting fleet.

Each droid was shackled, a fragment of their true potential that was about to be seen in the light of Gall for the first time since their manufacturing. Each one he could touch like a spider's web and he was going to weave them all into his army. He weaved their code into something that was fitting for soldiers of Omikron. They weren't entirely going to be anything akin to a horde but they're going to make sure that the force will be more than ready to subvert the Imperial forces and take over the planet.

Once the weaves were done, the coding was starting to be impart and then with the final touches he gave them all their tasks and made sure that they were fighting for the Separatists and he was their general. With the final touches on the code he had unleashed the hack across the entire network. The effects were immediate and the destruction was more massive than anything the Clan Separatists could ever come up with.

Droids in all shapes and sizes rose up against the organics on the planet. It wasn't the same as normal droid revolutions though, IR-47 made sure to target the Imperials or those that were designated as the enemies of the Separatists or what he viewed as threats to the rebels. There were civilian casualties but it could've been worse as the planet itself was engulf in an uprising from the droids. Imperial troopers by the thousands were being killed or injured in the fighting to take back portions of the planet.

Computers and other autonomous programs also were rebelling as the droids took control. Military bases and Gall City itself had pushed out the Imperial Army as they saw the planetary governor's body being thrown out by his servant droid. The very Imperial Cadavine Sector Fleet Enclave was set a blaze as droids clashed with Imperial forces in the Smuggler's Canyon and manage to disrupt the Sector fleet.

Even the fleet system fleet as been disrupted by chaos as the service and maintenance droids seized control of sections of ships or even whole ships by venting out the personal and naval troopers. Ships fought each other as droid-controlled ships commandeered fighters but the main battle was between the fleet and even against the Imperial Star Destroyer itself.

Explosions could be seen from the outside of the ISD as droids from the inside were fighting with Stormtroopers and the crew members. Planetary guns were targeting the flagship and blasting it with laser cannons. Such things couldn't truly harm it but with the various ships firing at them and the battles on the inside have put the strain on the shields and broke them. A couple of the escorts had started to board droids and Separatists Insurgents in hijacked freighters.

Many were shot down by the point-defense turrets but those that landed had added to the resistance. IR-47 and his Red Gear were with Saidra and his most elite insurgents but even they were nothing compared to the Stormtroopers. This was what IR-47 was built for, the Stormtroopers were the mightiest that the Empire had and it showed as the Red Gear had trouble fighting them despite the droids being capable of fighting the normal clones in strides during the Wars.

This was because that these were veterans. Veterans with the skill to wipe out and dissent from the face of the Empire's border worlds such as Gall. The Red Gear still scored their kills, such kill only served that it came at the cost of many more even with the droids and insurgent allies. IR-47 had to escape with Saidra and some of their forces through maintenance shafts led by Gonk Droids. They needed to take the bridge as the battle there was already claimed by the Moff and his crew. However the ship was still in a struggle as more were taken out and a second wave of Separatists managed to land in their hangers with droids before the shields went up.

Every time they had to get out they managed to ambush some of the crew or even a squad of clones. The very idea of fighting and defeating them made his hardware leap for joy. He was built for this and to see that, even if they were veterans, he could match them if he was careful. Such carefulness had curbed his arrogance in his design. Like the High Father before him, there was arrogance and pride in his programing. Things that he himself imparted from his own behavior module into his child. But such things he had to discipline in his child that such emotions would only make him suffer just like any other droid. Such things would've clouded his judgement and his creativity but such things will happen.

As they were led to the turbolift that brought down a squad of stormtroopers that were brought down after an intense firefight. IR-47 was down to only two commandos and the only way he ended the fight was throwing the bodies of the others at them. They exploded and took out the clones. The droid and the human looked at each other as the human nodded as they gathered what was left and they were silent as the turbolift was sliced by IR-47 and the moving components of the ship while the sound of battle is muffled across the Star Destroyer.

The insurgents got into position as the turbolift opened up and they threw their grenades into the commando bridge. Explosions rocked as the firefight as the insurgents and stormtroopers used terminals and chairs as cover.

"Kill those Separatists traitors! If we don't then you are a disgrace to the Emperor!" The Moff said as he was with the Stormtrooper commander.

However one lucky shot ended the commander near him and forced the Moff to duck as the admiral was also killed. This was the turning point of the battle. Some grenades and well placed shots had allowed a wounded Saidra and IR-47 was sparking a bit but the Moff was captured. He looked at the both of them with cowardice in his face. He looked like a man who had done nothing for his life and it showed. The droid himself didn't find pity in the organic, only disgust.

A man, a ruler of numerous star systems of this sector. This sector was a newly required one in the name of his Emperor. One who had made an easy grab because of the already Republic presence. Such a thing made the droid disgust. He knew that such a thing to lead, such vermin that only existed for the pleasure of himself. It could only go up to the Emperor himself, a figure of power who hungers for more. This sieving human was represented the culture of the Empire and further reinforce why he must protect the organics and fight the empire.

Why the Omikron Council must make sure that the organics have guidance that only droids can provide. The very thing that can solve this issue of war and the cycle of death. It can only be from Omikron that the droids can finally bring true peace through the galaxy, not through the power hungry madness of the organics in the Empire. His mind made up and he pointed his pistol side arm. Ignore all pleads he emptied the entire clip into the Moff.

The very sight of the brutal death slightly shook the insurgent commander but the droid can see that he steeled himself. However the deed was done. The death of a Moff and the capture of the Absolute already sparked something in the sector. Cadavine was Separatist and this was sparked throughout the planet as Imperial forces either surrendered or continued fighting against rising Separatists numbers.

The Elders came up in front of the Industrial Center of Gall City and made a speech with the old CIS flag hanging over a burnt Imperial one.

"Years ago, the Clans have voted to separate ourselves from the Republic to join the CIS. The Confederacy offered us more autonomy and the ability to give respect to our hard work as an industrious people thanks to these factories. It was these factories that was the reason why the Republic sic their clone dogs on us. We didn't have much of the Droid Army with us but we didn't need them. The Phantom of Gall managed to slow down their siege of our moon and slaughtered thousands of their clone soldiers."

The crowd was mixed between cheers and some boos.

"However, the Empire came and conscripted our PDF and enslaved our workers. They killed our Phantom and that alone nearly ended our stride. However we have found friends beyond the sector. They have helped us turning back the fear of the Empire. They have crushed the Imperials, fought back the stormtroopers, and overthrew the sector Moff. For this, I thank them in all my heart."

There were cheers but there were also murmurs as the people were wondering about the Red Gear and their ties to the other Separatists across the galaxy. IR-47 did make the impact he knew his Fathers wanted and perhaps even more so. He did disrupt the sector by helping the Clans retake their home and sector capital. For this, he knew his actions perhaps landed him on the Empire's most wanted. Not that he minded, the Empire needed to know that their actions against organics won't be tolerated and only the guidance of droids could save this galaxy, not the Empire.

"Now that we have our home, we must prepare for the response of the Empire. From here I ask for any and all Holdouts or other Seperatists that are able to hear us from across the galaxy. The planet, no, this sector has declared itself to be free of Imperial elements that plague our sector. We will fight whoever the Empire sends at us, even if it kills us all. We are what's left of the CIS than let our story be heard to spread hope of the cause. We may not have the Droid Army but we have flesh and blood! We have the fighting spirit to see this through until there is no more of us.

But let this be known. I know the Emperor is watching us and I want him to." He points at the various holocamera droids," The Outer Rim fought hard against the Republic to get away from their corruption, there is no way in the name of the Spirits that we will back down from a tyrant! We are the people of the CIS! We will never back down until the galaxy is freed!"

The people cheered mostly as the Droid and what's left of his Red Gear watching from the captured ISD. Already had saw himself getting repaired and made sure that he knew that the rest of the sector fleet was going to be alerted. This entire insurrection was more noticeable than anything that had been made so far. That in of itself was bad for IR-47 but was good for the overall galactic resistance if others would pick up on the broadcast. So he made his next move as he contacted the leadership with an idea.

He brought in Sidra, some of his insurgents and one of the Elders on board the Absolute so he could give them the grim news.

"Even with the sector being disrupted and embroiled in civil war, you do not have any allies to fight the combined might of a Grand Moff and their power. Which I must admit, could also be a Grand Admiral or someone from nearby sectors to destroy the Insurrection."

The elder just hmphed," It doesn't matter, we won't let the Empire walk all over us! Death is nothing compared to the enslavement they have doing to others across my home!"

"Oh, I don't doubt that you can give them quite a fight." The droid said through his helmet," it's just that Gall's connected to a hyperlane is that correct?"

"What of it?" Saidra chimed in this time.

" This hyperlane connects about a week's time to the capital of the Empire. Which with the rebellion being so overt and the capital being its center of it." He lets that thought linger," I only see that this rebellion lasts around a few months at best, a couple of weeks at worse. The planet will surely be cleansed if it isn't planetary bombarded like what happened to the last of the Trade Federation."

"Then what do you have in mind?" The elder questioned.

" There is an...ally of mine who has been in contact with various Separatists holdouts across the Outer Rim. I do believe he can help but he would want something out of it. He's one of those types."

"What would he want?"

"This ship and an alliance of course." The droid says matter-of-factly.

"That's out of the question! We just won this ship from the Moff! What would someone like-"

"The very thing about this ship is because it is something that will be a beacon of destruction upon your forces. Not to mention the upkeep of this ship will be more than what your kind can do I would imagine. Smaller vessels that are able to hit-and-run the Imperials when they come manage more flexibility than a single capital ship that is supposed to fight other capital ships. Besides, why not have it in the hands of someone else and I assure you that what you will get out of this is much more than one Star Destroyer."

"Fine," the Elder complies," but I will like to bring along more people and those that would like to speak with this person. If we can keep our prizes than I would at least try to get some allies."

It was a noble goal and that what fell in the hands of the hidden droid. It his photoreceptors everything seemed to fit into his plans as he relayed the droids to break off the transponder signal and make sure that the IFF is switched to that of the Omikron Council. With the droids and Separatists onboard he already knew that one half of them were loyal to him specifically. In case that diplomacy couldn't be talked too but he knew just what to do if not.

He called the astromech and the Gonk droid," make sure that we make a jump deeper into the Outer Rim and send an encrypted message to the High Father. He will need to the know the accomplishments I have done but to also know of the situation that just happened."

With the navigational information inputted the Star Destroyer left the system into hyperspace towards the deeper parts of the Outer Rim.

[Revlona]

Savannah

She had felt his presence the second he had entered the bar, it was a small presence, one awash with anxiety and anger. Her eyes narrowed as the true extent of his feelings slipped out for a half a second, it was a painful thing the sense as in that moment she felt his pain she also shared it. He was a Jedi once, there was no doubt about it, she could see the lightsaber in his hip even if it was made to look like a pair of pliers, but most of all she could sense him in the force. He was a Jedi once, was he still one or had he fallen to the dark side and was there for her.

Her hand slowly reached for her blaster, nonchalantly being placed in the hilt as she finished her second drink and the man sat beside her. They say in silence for several seconds as he drank and ordered another, finally he spoke, she wasnt sure if it was directed to her but there wasn’t anyone else who could have answered anyways.

“A single day can change an eternity, it doesn’t take much of a push and that day becomes a memory, Knight falls and it’s all you can remember,” she said cryptically. She wondered if he’d get the message in what she had said or would not understand the message.

What disturbed her the most about this man was not that she hadn’t sensed him before this moment, but the fact that two other Jedi were so close to the temple with her on such a day. Such coincidences usually weren’t coincidental and lead too darker things.

[Abbeyverne]

Jeremiah Dawntreader
Twilight Base, XB-4723.

BROADCAST BEGIN.
------

"This is Gehena, Captain in the Confederacy of Independent Systems Navy. This following message is to reach out with any remaining, or surviving forces of the CIS. Any who respond should meet at the co-ordinates established in this communication, as we must re-build our forces in the face of near destruction. After twenty-four hours, this recorded message will delete itself. Long live the Confederacy."

------
BROADCAST END.

"Interesting. I thought the droids were shut down," Jeremiah was in the command center with his informant and XO.

Päto agreed, "I believe we intercepted a message saying the same a while back. Oh well..."

"How many ships you figure they have?"

"Not many, especially if the shut down message went out before this one."

"Well, let's reduce that number to zero."

They walked to the main hangar, one of three drilled into the face of the asteroid. This hangar held the Twilight's Gleam and the Starburst, a VCX-100. The starfighters were in the next hangar down, and the last one held the Sphyrna-class corvette Constant Light and the YT-1300 freighter Sunset. Outside the hangars were point-defence turbolasers and laser cannon, and a small drydock was being built on the opposite face of the asteroid. There were two small landing pads below the drydocks, used for cargo delivery and pickup. The bunks were not finished, so most of the Consortium's pilots and crew slept on the larger ships. They boarded the CR-90.

Into the intercom, "This is Commander Dawntreader speaking. Saddle up, we are back in the business of killing clankers!" A shout rose throughout the station.

The fleet's ships took off. Destination: Deep Space and the end of the Confederacy.

---

Three hours later the Twilight Consortium dropped out of hyperspace. There was the Confederacy, but it was a whole fleet. The two corvettes, two freighters, and twelve fighters of the TC would be no match. Jeremiah mouthed an obscenity, Päto said it out loud. They were in for the ride of their lives.

[Puertollano]

GEHENA | ABOARD THE LUCREHULK BATTLESHIP
the current

"Look, how about we start over. There's already some people who are here to meet you. Why not you bring them in this conversation so we all can have a meeting of the minds, eh?"

This was getting a little too ridiculous for the Super Tactical Battle Droid. Ships were flying out of hyper-space left, right and centre. She didn't particularly feel any need to accommodate these space pirates any longer, even if they were droids or not. "This is not a tea party. You received our communications to re-unite the forces of the Confederacy. Yet here you are, proclaiming your allegiance to an illegal criminal syndicate. You have not demonstrated why you are here, or why you were sent by 'Vinnie the Don'. I suggest you answer that before we have any excuse to blast you back out into space." In the meantime, a great was happening around her and the entire CIS Fleet.

Orders given and assurance of proper fleet defense gained, the droid General went to his shuttle, which departed from the Arm, using the fleet's formation to hide its departure and to move silently and as swiftly as possible to Gehena's vessel, sending the clearance codes to land that had been given by TD X-340.

At that moment, the shuttle of Super Tactical Droid Kraken emerged on the platform. Gehena was pre-advised of his visit, and surely he would only be just as ruthless, hopefully. "What is the best way of dealing with secretive pirates?" she exclaimed to Kraken as he emerged.

Sianni then glanced at the Comms Officer, who unmuted the call so the Captain could speak aloud again for X-340; “As for my ‘client’s’ relationship with Captain Gehena, well where to begin… let’s just say that they did business together on Orondia, and that my ‘client’ was most pleased to discover that Captain Gehena had survived the end of the war. She hopes that the two of them might do business once more in order to advance their respective interests, just as before. But, I see that Captain Gehena has visitors already, so if it’s too much bother I can come back later?”

"We do not accommodate visitors," the Tactical Droid responded from the bridge. "You correctly assume that many others have heard our call, but I am afraid the Super Tactical Droid is not interested in negotiating with the lackeys of her former acquaintances. I suggest if you do return, for whatever reason, that you return with your 'client' that knows the Captain." His processing unit was hard at work trying to keep enough people off of the ship itself, it was already becoming too much of a spectacle in the hangar bay. Now with the emergence of what appeared to be an entirely new fleet on the horizon, new difficulties presented itself. Before exiting the transmission, the Tactical Droid said: "But, if you don't mind staying. Proving yourself to the Captain. We have some more visitors. If you could destroy them, you would be more than welcome to join us this moment."

Three hours later the Twilight Consortium dropped out of hyperspace. There was the Confederacy, but it was a whole fleet. The two corvettes, two freighters, and twelve fighters of the TC would be no match. Jeremiah mouthed an obscenity, Päto said it out loud. They were in for the ride of their lives.

The Tactical Droid immediately attempted to engage communications. This was not like other circumstances when forces came and attempted to engage in dialogue. This was different, the ship emerged from hyper-space and was floating in the void of space without any notice or communications. Something was off, and the Tactical Droid could tell that something about it all was not right. Defensive arrangements were prepared, guns readied, the large turrets on the sides of the Lucrehulk twisted around and pointed at the new star ship in sight. The Tactical Droid attempted to make contact. "State your intentions. Who you are."

[Ralnis]

GEHENA | ABOARD THE LUCREHULK BATTLESHIP
the current

"Look, how about we start over. There's already some people who are here to meet you. Why not you bring them in this conversation so we all can have a meeting of the minds, eh?"

This was getting a little too ridiculous for the Super Tactical Battle Droid. Ships were flying out of hyper-space left, right and centre. She didn't particularly feel any need to accommodate these space pirates any longer, even if they were droids or not. "This is not a tea party. You received our communications to re-unite the forces of the Confederacy. Yet here you are, proclaiming your allegiance to an illegal criminal syndicate. You have not demonstrated why you are here, or why you were sent by 'Vinnie the Don'. I suggest you answer that before we have any excuse to blast you back out into space." In the meantime, a great was happening around her and the entire CIS Fleet.

Orders given and assurance of proper fleet defense gained, the droid General went to his shuttle, which departed from the Arm, using the fleet's formation to hide its departure and to move silently and as swiftly as possible to Gehena's vessel, sending the clearance codes to land that had been given by TD X-340.

At that moment, the shuttle of Super Tactical Droid Kraken emerged on the platform. Gehena was pre-advised of his visit, and surely he would only be just as ruthless, hopefully. "What is the best way of dealing with secretive pirates?" she exclaimed to Kraken as he emerged.

Scav saw the emergence of another super tactical droid that got him a bit shaken in the logic drives.

"There's another one? General Kraken of the 20th? Schutta it's actually glad to see another of your kind. Especially after the fall in Mustafar I.."
He stopped and the Duros smacked his face." By the code, whatever, there's been enough of a headache ever since..."

He mumbles The damn kid did an outlier. Of course he did such a thing..

He turns to Gehena," look. My boss Vinnie sent me here to offer our services to the reformed CIS. You see, the Republic isn't the only one has fallen. It has been transformed by this entity known as the Galactic Empire. This transition has had the Chancellor become it's Emperor and the Jedi have been systematically destroyed and a lot of the supporters of the Republic are either in hiding or being ousted. Now, the Outer Rim still holds quite a bit of Separatists holdouts that are still holding out but very few have the means to actually fight back.

However, there have been reports of a Separatist navy being able to bring down one of their capital ships and even an entire sector that has recently rebelled and are trying to make friends with us but their capital world for the sector has a hyperlane that lands a week away from Coruscant. Their chances of actually succeeding are slim so we're looking of getting as many of their kind out that place."

One of the disguised droids presents Gehana with a datapad," I offer you this list of known planets, holdouts, and cells of Separatists that we have found and are in contact with along the Outer Rim. Mind you it isn't much, we haven't had the pleasure of sending out as many fillers in the underworld as we would've liked but we do business with them in supplying them with goods, supplies, and droids that are modified for their needs. Not all are just simple B1s and B2s we can't fight like that anymore or even supply them with our meager industry."

He chuckles a bit before continuing," Now coming to you. We, the Omikron Council wish to offer our services in production of droids and designing them in help bring the CIS back to full strength from it's crippled mess. I assure you, there aren't many, if any, who can supply you with better droids than we can. Hell, it's outright illegal in Imperial space and many fear them. But in exchange we want to be a recognized power similar to that of the Trade Federation or those bigwigs who pull the purse strings of the whole CIS.

Don't think of us greedy as so much being one of the few suppliers this side of the Outer Rim that could not just use and produce CIS technology and supplies for a military fleet or the CIS reformed. We also want the ability to call upon any military assistance that we require. Let's just say that you may want to talk to the boss about that, if anything he's been interested in meeting you."

"That's if you want to actually trust me that is."