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handofthrawn

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IN ORBIT OVER HOSRA:

 

The streaks of hyperspace resolved to pinpoint pricks of starlight and distant worlds. Standing on the bridge, Vangar breathed a sigh of relief. He had half expected some hidden vigilantes to cause problems midflight. There had been vigilantes, those who refused to take the opportunity to go home. Most were gunned down without remorse by responding security droids aboard the ship. One group managed to almost make it to the bridge; the jammed doors prevented that for long enough a time for forces to respond. By the time the ship dropped from hyperspace, Vangar Longfang was certain the ship had been cleared of dissidents.

 

Slowly the Lucrehulk spun into position high above the agrarian world. A dozen transports hung in orbit, slowly moving towards the former Trade Federarion warship. Once they had docked teams of Imperial and Rebel naval teams, marines, and soldiers boarded. They would assist in moving refugees and prisoners offsite and begin assessments of the vessel, moving it to a new secure dockyard. There the retrofitting would be complete and the ship entered into Alliance service.

 

Vangar and his team remained on the bridge until the damaged doors had been opener. At that time, one and a half dozen naval troopers and technicians poured into the bridge. Removing his helmet, Vangar turned to face the new arrivals who offered salutes. He returned the salute as a grizzled Rebel commander stepped forward, “Lieutenant Commander Hays Krile here to relieve you sir.”

 

Vangar smiled, “So relieved. The ship is yours commander. We will depart within the hour.” Vangar turned to @Tilt07 and his men. “Well done men. You are relieved. Report back to HQ after you take a few days R&R.” Keying his comm to the rest of the team, Vangar announced, “Ladies and gentlemen, mission accomplished.” His smile was audible across the airwaves. “Unless you wish to remain aboard and are authorized as such, we should be off within the hour.”

 

Vangar then strode from the deck, flanked by a duo of paired marines, 2 Imperial, 2 Rebel. Finding the remainder of the crew, he smiled and offered a brisk salute. “Well done each of you. The Alliance has need of you all. The Sith have left this galaxy in a state of turmoil. It is up to us to put it right. From here, I will adjourn to the Deep Core. Our allies have offered us a secure base of operations from which to act from. If you are not otherwise assigned, you may accompany me.”

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All in all, Qessax felt decent about the entire mission. It had gone, for the most part, without too many issues. A few hiccups were to be expected, and the moments right before the ship was powered on and under their control was stressful, but that was not surprising. 

 

And in all honesty, that made Qessax a little nervous. 

 

Missions never went according to plan. Not completely. Whether it was his Kaleesh heritage speaking or his training as an Imperial agent or his knowledge of previous, disastrous, imperial events, Qessax felt like something was off. 

 

Qessax approached Vangar. With his disguise mostly taken off, he had retrieved his war mask from the ship and donned it over his face. He wasn’t in imperial uniform yet, so felt that there was no reason he couldn’t wear his culture again. 

 

Passing by the squad of clones, Qessax stopped and saluted them. “Excellent job captain. You and your…brothers” 

 

Qessax struggled a bit saying the last part. Clones were still odd to him and his people as a whole. 

 

Taken care of that, Qessax faced Vangar. “Sir, might I ask what is your next plan of action? 

 

As he talked, the several Kaleesh warriors who had assisted the mission were approaching the command room. Qessax, who had completely forgotten about the warriors, was not expecting them, and only noticed them when he detected their pungent odor. 

 

One of them, a female with a verpine sniper rifle on her back, looked the clones over and snickered before asking “You all smell the same. What, do you all share the same soul?” The others took note of what the female said and listened in, curious on how the clones would respond. 

Edited by Qessax Jal Todda
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Vangar turned to regard the Kaleesh intelligence operative. “A Crown Regent and a Viceroy has many commitments. Shadowy operations to retrieve wayward warships are few and far between. Now, I must resume my public persona.” He shook his head as he began to walk, signaling the warrior to walk alongside him. As they neared a hallway, he continued, “The galaxy has been torn asunder. Even as peoples begin to rebuild, they will look to the Empire, the Rebellion, and the Alliance for guidance and, at times, assistance. It will be up to us to see that we present a face of strength and compassionate resolution.”

 

Reaching a docking chute, the Barabel stopped. He ran a gloved hand over the glistening durasteel as he pondered for a moment before continuing. The muscles beneath the armored weave rippled visibly as he clenched his fist and rapped it against the bulkhead. “Nar Shaddaa has been destroyed. The Empire has been decapitated. We may have won, but at great cost. We too must rebuild. An unlikely ally has offered us a new base of operations in the Deep Core. We will proceed there to build relations and secure a headquarters to work from; but first, I must return to my home on Bespin. We need to put our best foot forward. If you would send for a regiment of your finest regaled soldiers, you may accompany me. Provided, of course, you are not needed elsewhere commander?” 

 

Vangar keyed open the door to the waiting transport. He smiled to the Kaleesh as he gestured aboard. “Perhaps your father would lead the men, an envoy of strength on behalf of the Alliance.” Waggling an eyebrow ridge, he chuckled softly before disappearing aboard the waiting craft. He would check in with the ship commander and direct them towards Cloud City and The Bespin Storm.

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  • 4 months later...

Andara: Core Worlds

 

The pain was excruciating as Pandora picked herself from upon the ground and charged at the Sith with her pike's silver blade extended, her mind wavering between consciousness and the abysmal darkness of unconsciousness. Reeling her blade back, she struck forward with it, intent to pierce his heart. But it was to no avail, an existence in a memory that was based in lies. Reality set in as she gasped her final breaths, her face crushed in partially as she gurgled on her own blood and her last sights were of would be rescuers arriving too late. Then there was nothing.

 

Pandora sat straight up upon her bed beneath drenched sheets as she reached for her face with a slender hand, horror and panic within her heart and in her hastened breaths. But why she inquired in silence as she realized familiar smells and sounds, a nearby presence all too familiar coming in a rush. Her mind was foggy and unclear, as she pushed aside the drenched sheets and rose to meet the arrival of Bull as he burst through the doors.

 

"Lady Pandora, is everything alright?" He questioned, his gaze shifting about the room cautiously before settling upon his Miralukian charge. "I heard your scream clear across the hall."

 

Confused, Pandora looked upon him through her mind's eye despite the fright shown even behind her veiled face. "I screamed?" She questioned as she wiped sweat from her cheek and brought her hands to her waist. "I... I don't remember."

 

Pandora's head began to hurt as she tried to think back, to remember why she screamed. But all that came to her was waking up scared and alone, and before that, a stroll through the market the day before. And yet, there was an undeniable sense of dread and anger in her mind that she could not place. Only it's existence. In silence, she sat down on her bed with her hands in her lap, Bull coming to her side and placing his hands upon her shoulders.

 

"Lay back." He spoke as he urged her form back in bed. "Perhaps it was just a bad dream. Shall I have your Lady in Wait fetch you some warm milk?"

 

Pandora simply shook her head as it pressed against the feathered pillow and felt her drenched sheets and covers being pulled upon her form and cover her. "But perhaps something for my head. It aches Bull."

 

His only words blurred as he departed, Pandora catching it as she covered her eyelets with her left forearm until Jezelle returned with her medicine. There was much to do today, and she didn't need a migraine today of all days. Her adoptive parents were coming home, and she needed to be ready and Bull could only do so much by himself. He was a great Warrior and Ward, but without proper guidance, he would be no more than a wild animal. He already lived like one.

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Andara: Core Worlds

Four Days Later...

 

Much had transpired since her parents had returned home to Citdel Terek despite her constant dreams that haunted her mind at night and migraines that dulled the days. Pandora spent most of her time in her studies while her adoptive parents prepared Sampson's memorial and held a Ball in his honor. Pandora thought it strange that she wasn't able to attend despite her having dressed for the occasion out of routine, but shrugged it off as an moment of respite for the immediate family to honor their fallen heir or possibly to risk straining her mind and making her migraines worse. But she would admit that it hurt. Outside of Bull and Jezelle, she hadn't had any contact with the outside world since she woke in the infirmary after her fall.

 

Strangely enough, she couldn't even remember her fall. But with it only having been two years since her finding at Dark Sun Station and the loss of her memory then, she pondered whether or not the fall could have placed more damage to what had already transpired. And yet, still, something felt off about the entire thing. Her mind's gaze shifted to Bull who sat quietly in the corner as he stared out her window upon the cityscape of Andara Proper, pondering whether to bring it up, but decided against it as to not further hurt Lord Brennan and Lady Miriam as they grieved the first memoriam of Sampson's death. So instead, she remained in silence as she finished her studies before blowing out the illuminating candle that perched above her desk before turning in for the night.

 

The next day brought the memoriam in Sampson's honor to a head as Lord Brennan and other Matukai Adepts preformed the Ceremonial Remembrance, a physical meditation that focused upon strengthening the body and purify the cluster of emotions that grief brought upon the mind and soul. Each of those present took part, a sacral dance performed behind closed doors and away from public eye as reporters sat patiently outside. But for Pandora, the act became quite taxing upon her and Bull eventually took her home after slipping out the backside of the Conclave.

 

At home, there was much food and drink for the public to partake in Sampson's honor, but after the taxing ceremony, Lord Brennan suggested that Pandora rest and take care of herself away from the public that awaited her arrival. So she did, Jezelle bringing a plate for her to eat later as she laid to rest. Before Pandora knew it, night had arrived and Bull escorted her to the Citadel's cyrpt where Sampson's remains were kept so that she could mourn in her own way free of prying eyes that being of House Maximus brought, even in its decline.

 

Placing a hand upon the stoned sarcophagus, Lady Pandora began to weep as memories of Anaxes, her visits to Andara with him, and being stationed together at Kuat brought back her feelings of remorse, her having lived when she should have died. Slipping aside his tomb, she wailed like a banshee until her voice became course with strain and her body felt too heavy to bare. And even then, she kept weeping. By the time morning came, Bull had already carried her to her room and placed Jezelle to watch over her.

 

Breakfast was unusually bland that morning as Lord Brennan and Lady Miriam sat mostly in silence where their usual candor would have lit up the room with laughter and discord. Pandora would have chalked it up to their grief, but there was more than what met the eye as the evidentiary rift between the two smoldered the room with a metaphorical stench and neither gave off the presence of grief. Lord Brennan was a Matukai Adept, so his hidden emotions were plausible. But Lady Miriam was usually an open book. Still, Pandora did not pry, but ate in silence and excused herself to continue her studies. She would make her approach over joining the Imperial Knights at a later date. But it would have to be done before her month of leave was up.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Andara

14 Days Later

 

Citdel Terek rested atop the bustling Andara Proper at the heart of it's lavishly cityscape, a jewel afloat on a sea of gems as the sun rose across it's horizon. Today was the day. Only two weeks remained of her leave from the Imperial Navy, and so, Pandora stood before her vanity with determination and confidence as she prepared herself for breakfast. And yet, outside the confines of her home, the city held more life than what she had experienced over the course of her leave.

 

Pandora exited her room with Jezelle behind her, Bull stationed outside her room per the usual. Silently in her head, she scoffed as she passed the Captain. He had been hovering over her the last two weeks and she was beginning to feel stifled. She was sixteen. A Corporal in the Imperial Navy... She had seen war at Kuat... Felt the loss of Sampson gravely... She didn't need a consistent chaperone... Or so she felt. But her duty as heir to the House of Maximus bound her to it's Patriarch's wishes, no matter how she felt. It was simply the way. In Andarian Culture, as the House Motto suggests, the honor of the family came before the needs of its members.

 

Breakfast was the only time she held a chance to really talk to her mother and father.

 

"I'd like to join the Imperial Knights." She brought up so casually amidst the ongoing conversation of morning gossip about other families and Andarian Politics that her mother and father had begun to put on for show since their return. "Lady Cassandra....

 

Taken aback in shock, her mother and father quickly locked eyes, something they hadn't done in days, before her father's face turned red with anger and his fist slammed upon the table. "Absolutely not. Your Days in service to the Sovereign... Imperial Remnant are done."

 

In the midst of her own shock that nearly fluttered her heart from her chest and nearly regurgitated through her mouth, a gut wrenching pain taking its place, Pandora missed his misspoken words as heartbreak and betrayal filled her chest. She could only utter a single word in reply. "W-w-wh-y?"

 

"It's already done." He spoke firmly, his gaze shifting from her form and his eyes shifting the table. "I requested that you return to your duties for the House, and it has been granted. The rest of your tour will be spent at home where you are needed most."

 

As he spoke, each word that came from his lips felt like a new dagger digging into her chest leaving her speechless and in pain. She loved her life aboard Star Destroyers. She felt her duty was there. It was the honor of the House that she needed to uphold, just as he and Sampson had before her, and the generations before them. Every member had served. Had the loss of Sampson been so great that it made him selfish? It would bring dishonor for a Heir to not serve. After all, it was he and Sampson that pulled the strings that go her into service.

 

But before she could even begin to question his true motives, she felt her mother's hand console her own. "The Patriarch has spoken. We are all bound by his word."

 

"But mother..." She went to speak, but both her mother and father turned back to their plates, her father ending the conversation. "I have spoken. Bull, Jezelle, escort Pandora back to her room until she has accepted my verdict."

 

As Bull stepped forward, he notional to her to come as he reached for her arm and Jezelle gathered her plate, Pandora looked at both of them still reeling in shock and feeling dumbfounded as the news of her redistribution to Andara truly took its toll. She was confused, angry, felt betrayed and imprisoned because of Sampson's loss. It was irrational, selfish, and dishonorable. This wasn't adhering to the House's Motto at all. Why would Jenson do this? This shamed Sampson's death.

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Andara

5 Days Later

 

It had been a week since she had been confined to her room unjustly, five days since she last laid her mind's eye upon her adoptive parents when she was informed of her reassignment back to House Maximus. To be truthful, if it had been any circumstance, she would have openly welcomed her chance to serve the House in which she had come to call her family. But she couldn't help but feel something was amiss, something wasn't right. These were not the ones who openly welcomed her into the family just a year ago. There was a sense of hidden agendas. But what, she couldn't figure out.

 

Even Jezelle, whom often excused their actions, seemed to know something she did not, her mind guarded with thoughts of randomness every time she entered the room with Pandora. And Bull, whom she looked toward as an elder brother, stayed as far away from her as he could when he wasn't guarding her door. She felt captive, felt reserved, stifled even. And she was on the verge of madness in the why and how combining with her own sadness. Sampson's memory had been shamed.

 

It wasn't in their silence that she felt the most betrayed, nor in their distancing. No. It was in their actions and words that were spoken that morning. The House was always put first and foremost above individual need. It was in that honor that the Maximus lineage prided themselves the most, the House an extension of the Empire. It dishonored all those whom gave their individual lives. It dishonored Sampson's sacrifice. That was like a vibrodagger to the very core of her soul. It was like spitting in their very faces. And that simply wasn't Lord Jensen. 

 

Crying herself to sleep had become a constant these past few days, her soul torn by honor and desires. She felt honored bound to stay, in a sense, but knew that it was her desire as well, if only to please the man and woman who had given her this life. But honor demanded her to resume her role outside of this confine, to sacrifice herself for the greater good rather than hide away like a princess from a holovid. Or was this her desire and her mind's way of twisting it to honor Sampson's memory. She was on the verge of being unable to tell truth from lie nor right from wrong. Hence why she sobbed the most when these thoughts crossed her mind, her mind on the verge of completely losing what she was reality. And so she slept. Slept with hope tomorrow would bring more sense.

 

And yet...

 

She stood upon a distant world of alien origins, robes not of her own nor of the House's colors. They were remnant of the ones Lady Cassandra wore, but were slightly different. Upon her hip was a Lightsaber, one that she knew extended into that of a Pike, it's silver synthetic blade reminiscent of the Imperial Knights, but didn't know how she knew. There was knowledge in her head, memories of her own, but not her own, of wars and strife, of trillions misplaced and her hands meant to aid.

 

And there, upon the precipice of her dreamscape and waking, a singular name she knew and felt with her soul echoed in her mind. A soul that resonated with, a displaced Queen who's people were broken along with their world much like her own memories before Dark Sun. "Namari"

 

This was the first time she had woken to tears, both a puzzled look upon her face and a emptiness in her chest that preceeded even the loss she had felt over Sampson's death, as it life it's self was on the verge of death and it echoed through everything. Despite this being a simple dream, she couldn't help but feel dread and dismay at the surreality of it, it beckoning her soul even in her waking moments as she wiped away the tears. Why did she keep dreaming of being a Knight of the Empire? And whom was this Namari? She could feel it's truth even upon the Force, yet, held no memory of it.

 

It was that night that she made her departure from Andara under the cover of darkness and hidden paths. In truth, her only confines had been herself until now. But how would Lord Jensen and Lady Miriam react to her desertion? How would the Imperial Remnant react? And why did the Force pull her so firmly?

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The grey sliver of a Victory III star Destroyer emerged from hyperspace over the outlying world of Andara. Home to the once great house of Maximus, which was now but an infertile ruin. Devastated by internal politicking and anti natalism, the house had fallen to such a low that they were not often invited to great stately events, and though the arrival of a vessel from the house of Contispex may have once been a cause of reflection or rejoicing, there was little doubt why the vessel was here now. 

 

“A message I bring to you, Jensen, Patriarch of Maximus, we are in search for the Lady Pandora who we know has a cloning contract with your family. Please let her know that she is expected at court, and that she has been requested by the house of Contispex for a meeting. We await your rapid response most eagerly.” 

 

The blonde haired woman sat back on her command chair, and stared listlessly into the optical receptor of the holo device. She herself was not a knight, for none could be spared for such a mission. But merely from one of the cadet branches, and served as a minor bannerman of the household. 

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Andara

Currently...

 

It had been three days since Lady Pandora's disappearance under the cover of night and as Lord Jensen took matter of state across his desk, an initiate brought forth a communicator that hailed a member of House Contispex. Cautiously, he took it into hand, contemplating his answering.

 

His fury had knew no bounds when he found out that Pandora had vanished from her confines, Andarian Police and Knights scouring the Planet over the next 24 hours for her whereabouts until it was found that she had found a means to relocate abroad. Where exactly, they held no clue. Only that Bull had been charged with following the clues that would trace her down. And here it was, nearly 82 hours since she stepped away from House and Family, and another House had stepped upon their doorstep for her.

 

As his hand reached to answer the communicator, he pondered just how much they knew, if any, of what transpired. And as the blonde young Lady of House Contispex spoke, he sighed a hidden sigh of relief. Politics were his realm, and as former Student of the Academy here on Andara, he held a great Pizakk face.

 

"Forgive me, mi'lady." He began, a sorrowful expression upon his face as he delivered what he proposed as the truth. "But the sample we had on file was corrupted during acquirement. Without a proper sample, or in this case, her body from Naboo, we are unable to revive her...."

 

Jensen had been careful during Pandora's revival, ensuring the sample came back corrupted and her body listed as lost in transport from Naboo after it was jettisoned and the transport destroyed. His Duty was to his House, after all, and with Lady Miriam unable to conceive, Pandora was his only heir after Sampson ensured he could not be cloned to save them from the effects lose and cloning held over many of the Great Sovereign Houses. A conservative naturalist, Sampson had signed a DNC order even before his enrollment at Anaxes.

 

"As for the Pandora during my son's Memorium, that was simply an actor put on for show to ensure the faith of the people of Andara remained unwavering during the Remembrance Ceremony." He finished, attempting to cover his bases incase he had gotten a bit rusty in his latter years. "We may have fallen since the death of my son, but I assure you, we are not in ruin."

 

With that, he gave a solemn salute and closed with a simple request. "However, if the Sovereign does recover her body, please secure a viable sample. We desperately need our heir."

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Some degree of disgust could be heard in her voice as she responded. Her eyes narrowing in suspicion. 

 

“Do you not have ships? Do you not care for your own heir? Send your own forces to Naboo and collect her corpse. Do not pretend that you care and yet lift not a finger.”

 

She leaned forward to press another button on her control console which dispatched a longform encrypted data file to his communicator. It was a long list of legal papers with very serious implications. 

 

“If you are unable to produce your heir within the next several days please sign these immediately. The House of Contispex would never let such a house as yours fall into such disrepair. And we will take you under our wing and provide the means to furnish your house into the next generation.”

 

She looked back at the holo of the man. 

 

“This will maintain the galactic order, it is non negotiable.” 

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Andara

Several Hours Later...

 

Meanwhile, on and above Andara, as Patriarch Jensen prepared the requested documentation under displeasing scrutiny, a communication from Ylesia come across the channels aboard the House Contispex. It was the Sovereignty Forces at Ylesia informing their higher ups of not only a fight between two members of House Maximus on foreign soil, but one of them being a underage girl of sixteen being named as Pandora Legatha Maximus I.

 

All documentation of the detainment crossed the channels roughly the same time as the documentation from Patriarch Jensen was recieved, but by the time their Victory Class vessel would arrive at Ylesia, only Bull would be found with Pandora once again in the wind.

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