Nar Shaddaa - Rebel Alliance Headquarters

[Raphanel]

“Seizing.” 

 

The medical orderly looked up to the cluster of officers with clear blue eyes. All she was given in return was a cluster of kind if concerned smiles, and a small gesture to the trio of red clad Knights that stood at the foot of the bed. Their eyes were closed, and they seemed to be in some kind of meditation which irritated the orderly more than most patients. Force users were the worst kind of patient. They would always either recover miraculously or suffer pains in silence that would fell a rancor. 

 

She checked the saline drip, then stood by as the Imperial Knights moved forward. One, A man with grey hair and a visage long scarred by many conflicts, laid his hand upon the forehead of Kyrie. The glove wiping away the thick beading sweat as he began to mutter an unintelligible chant. This was a long honoured knight, and one of the first to have followed the young Kyrie out of the Jedi Order. Ceurnan Vladislov withdrew his hand as the next Knight walked forward, carrying a bowl of ashes upon which a cluster of incense burned fiercely, puttering a billow of white smoke into the rafters. Vladislov scooped the burning incense out of the bowl, protecting his hand with the insulating ash and slowly blew the smoke towards the suffering Master. For if she could breath, she could smell and know that the knights were there with her. 

 

He leaned forward, drawing the hashed symbol of Il-Andon Rorik on her forehead with a finger dipped in the white ash. 

 

“Come back to us Master. You have tarried too long in the cold and dark.”

[Raphanel]

The leather wrapped hilt of the standard issue imperial sabre felt rough to the Imperial Exorcist. His fingers worked themselves around the hilt, finding the smoothed sections of the leather where, after hours of practice duels and real fights, the rough leather had worn down to a fine smoothness that was comfortable to the touch. Ismael smiled, his grin transected by a solid scar that crossed his face, giving him a mocking appearance whenever he smiled. The result of a tangle with the Sith during his service to the Jedi Order under Grandmaster Ara-Lai. 

 

Would that the Jedi had kept their strength! What would Master Damon have said to the failures of Onderon and Kashyyyk? But the answers had lain in schism, and even though they had done their best, the Imperial Knights had taken severe losses in the long war. While the Jedi Order had nearly fallen to pieces. Ismael shook his grey haired head as he walked down the long corridors of the barracks, walking towards the room of young Aidan Darkfire. 

 

Senses told him that he was fast asleep, so Ismael gave him a few more hours of rest before he doubled back and softly rapped his knuckles on the door. There was no ceremony in this. There would be no screaming crowds.

Edited June 16, 2020 by Ary the Grey

[Raphanel]

Ismael smiled warmly at the Imperial Squire, a man in his own right, and a descendant of powerful lineage. He winked a grey eye and stood back to let the man close his door. He had obviously been expecting someone else, someone who cared less than Ismael might about clean rooms and uniforms, but the Master did not mind. He had been a young man once as well, and some of the only joy out of those missions and long deployments had been the women that had graced his presence. 

 

He waved off Aidan’s apologies and returned the bow, “There is little you can do for me young Darkfire, but I do have something for you.” 

 

He held out a new holo identification, no longer marking him as an imperial citizen, but a citizen of the Rebel Alliance. But what was most particular of the gift was the rank listed on the identification. In the light blue.  

 

Imperial Knight

 

“We are proud to welcome you from your apprenticeship and into the ranks of the Imperial Knights.” 

 

He held out a hand to the imperial knight. 

 

“Well done.” 

[Raphanel]

Ismael grinned at the expression on the young Knight’s face. 

 

“No, we are not anticipating assigning you a squire at this point, but if you wish to have one, we are happy to provide.” 

 

He thought of the wealth of young men and women in the service that would jump at the opportunity, but the young man needed rest. According to his file, he had been in combat in and out since the war had started. And the weariness of that war was already marked visibly on the young man’s face. Ismael turned and gestured back to the bedroom. 

 

“Now get some rest young Darkfire, sleep for a week if you need.” He smiled and with a swirl of his grey cloak. Was gone.

[Raphanel]

Sergeant Horatio Kine tapped his prosthetic leg with a finger, loud enough that the hollow metallic sound of it was audible to the enraptured group of young men around him.  The music was loud in the tavern, but not loud enough that it would overpower the Sergeants voice. Made strong from long years of command in the Sith Empire, then Galactic Alliance, then Imperial Remnant, and now finally the Rebel Alliance military. His name had been stylized ‘Kine’ instead of ‘von Kine’ as his connections to imperial royalty back on Carida had been slim at best, and a long line of inheritance had not kept the family fortune intact enough for him to live off of it. So he had become a soldier, joining as a private and now suitably as a Sergeant Major, and he had no desire to go farther. Command was a bore, and his natural talents were in talking and convincing, not commanding vast swaths of imperial marines. So he was a recruiter. 

 

Paid per head recruited. 

 

There was nothing better. It was enough to bolster his small pension and go whoring on weekends, as such was the life of a near retired regimental sergeant major. 

 

So he sat on the edge of a well worn duraplast stool, and told his war stories t oan enraptured audience of young men from the colonies and a spattering of refugees. This was mainly a human bar, but RSM Kine had no prejudices. Anyone from a Devorian, to a Zeltron, to Human, could join the armed forces of the Rebel Alliance. Even women were allowed! Though he shook his head at that. 

 

He took a long swig from a tot of rum and rubbed at his greying moustache as he pulled out a large denomination credit chip from his pocket. Letting it spin through his fingers as he talked. 

 

“And so there we were on the Death Star! No Emperor Deton was no friend of mine but I must say he led us well. Yes sir, he was a good man. But let me see what were we talking about? The benefits?” 

 

Eager heads nodded in unison. 

 

“You see lads. Five hundred credits. Another thousand signing bonus!” A few of the refugees gasped as if they had never seen so many credits in their lives. And RSM Kine knew he had them. 

[Raphanel]

As a Devorianian blazed like a torch at a midnight mass, followed quickly by an entire bar, three dark cloaked figures began to converge on the lone Mandalorian responsible for all the carnage. They were distant at first, but within a few minutes even a drunk Gamorrean would know that he was being followed. Even in the most crowded of alleys people parted in waves in front of the three dark figures. Some bowed, some ran away, all moved aside. 

 

When they had come close enough to call out, a lone voice echoed towards the mandalorian. It was a woman’s voice, but fell and beautiful in its tones. The basic accented by the soft and telltale accent of Carida. Whose surface still burned from the anger of the Sith Lords. 

 

“If death and violence was all that brought you to this small planet I would say that you have done far enough.” 

 

The force moved like a storm, and the night air felt electric, as if there was about to be a summer thunderstorm. 

 

“You are under arrest for multiple Homicides, and I would advise you to come with us.” 

 

For these were Imperial Exorcists. The strongest of the old order formed in the Remnant during the fall of the Galactic Alliance. Though they now answered to the Jedi Council, they still held the order of their Empress’s planet as a priority first among many. 

 

[Raphanel]

Wake.

 

 The voice was commanding, but also soft and full of concern. 

 

“Wake from this sleep.” 

 

This was far more commanding, and came with a small jolt in the force, something to break the Jedi Apprentice from her medically induced unconsciousness. When she awoke she would see a young woman of her early teens sitting beside her. Wearing the white and red tabard of the Imperial Order of Medics. Another holdover from the old Imperial Remnant and their ‘Imperial Knights.” The Group of jedi who had left the order to fight the sith in the waning days of the Galactic Alliance. Though they had been vindicated, and their cause recognized by the Jedi Council, they had not yet fully integrated. Keeping mostly within their own order in its bastion on Nar Shaddaa. Working closely with the Empress of the Remnant and the Rebel Alliance military command. 

 

But this one was young, a squire, whose grinning face carried none of the tiredness her master’s did.

 

“Welcome back Alliera. I’m glad you pulled through there.” 

[Raphanel]

The imperial medical squire raised her eyebrows, sparing a glance to her master who shrugged. So the squire pressed further in her questioning as she laid her hands on the Mandalorian jedi apprentice’s and let the force move through her. 

 

“So why were you trying to get to a vault?”

 

The force moved from the squires hands to Alliera’s where it spread throughout her aching body, soothing the exhausted muscles, easing the aches of the brutal combat. 

 

“We were always taught as kids that Mon Cal was pretty much all one great sewer. But that was during the last war.” She shrugged and went back to concentrating while her master took over questions. 

 

“Where do your travels take you next Apprentice Alliera?”

[Raphanel]

The Imperial Knights looked at one another and shrugged. 

 

“If you wish to depart of course that is your prerogative.” 

 

The master held out his hand to momentarily delay the mandalorian. 

 

“But be careful, being a Jedi is a whole life commitment, you must leave behind everything to pursue that path.” He pointed to the damaged armour segments. “And that includes your heritage, if you return there it is to say goodbye...”

 

The Imperials bowed low to the apprentice and stepped aside so that she could go about her business.

[Raphanel]

The young imperial knights eyebrows raised as she walked through the door into Mythos’s room. She held a datapad and gave a slight if formal bow to the wolf like officer. She extended a datapad with another bow. 

 

“I know it is likely too early in your recovery but you are being called into active duty again. Deep space scouts say a Sith Empire fleet is heading to the world of Naboo. And we need you there asap.”

 

She turned and handed him another datapad.

 

“You have been assigned to the 432nd Militia. Refugees from Chandrila. Treat them well.”

[Raphanel]

Cassandra let a smile creep over her face as she felt the Imperial Knight approach. She had long known of this knight, as she was one of the few adopted ‘aliens’ the imperials had put through their rigorous school. She stood, keeping her hands on her desk and let the smile show through her normally impassive visage. 

 

“Welcome home Knight Charlemagne.” She gestured towards the chair opposite the desk, inviting the woman to sit. “Tell me more of the Redoubt. Thoug hI am sure it will be in your full report I would still like to hear it personally.”  

 

[Raphanel]

Cassandra stared at the Knight, her visor taking everything in, with an impassive gaze. Her fingers drumming steadily on the datapad’s keypad, whose keys had the strange raised edges of a blind person’s datalink. 

 

“We sent you on this mission because it was something that you struggled in. Did you learn any lessons in your time among the Chiss?” 

 

This was not a leading question or a damning one, just a passive question that was offset by a slight smile that crept into the side of her mouth. 

 

“The Chiss do what suits them the most, as they have always done. Nokrt taught them that, as did the last dozen or so dark lords. I do not anticipate them crawling from their defended space no matter if the heavens fell. Like beasts they shy from the hand that has struck them.” 

 

She pulled another datapad from a stack and held it out to the young Bailiff.
 

“New orders after you get some Rest and Relaxation. Code plan Bastion.” 

 

The end of the Imperial reign of Nar Shaddaa had begun.

[Raphanel]

Cassandra tapped the edge of her desk with a single finger, her sightless eyes shut in concentration. It was a minor royal house, and a newer one in the domain, but like all the houses, this one would also need to find its way to safety before the Sith Arrived. 

 

“Tell only your Father and arrange it as a vacation to the outer rim, perhaps a survey of his holdings. We cannot afford to alert the Sith that we are under evacuation.”

 

She opened her grey eyes. 

 

“We have intel indicating the entire Sith armada is stirring. A force not seen since before Onderon. And the Jedi have informed us of the presence of Neo-Crusaders as well. The Veil that has for so long kept us hidden has finally been ripped asunder. And we meet fire and anvil.”

 

That would mean only one thing to the young Imperial Knight. Doom was coming to Nar Shaddaa. It would mean that Cassandra and Taylor were expected to be at the Empress’s side for the final fight.

[Raphanel]

Brushed durasteel decking made no noise as the silent feet of the Imperial Knight trode through the halls of the Constantine. No soldier or security officer stopped her as she walked towards the bridge. One hand holding a sealed scroll of old fashioned flimsiplast, whose age, wear, and red wax seal matched the one soldered onto the breastplate of her own armour. It was an Imperial decree, which was an intimidating thing, of which distracted from the small cylindrical device she held in the other hand. It could have been mistaken for the lightsaber that such knights usually carried, but this was in fact the baton of a grand admiral. Which was heavily inlaid in stylish engraving. 

 

The Imperial Knight strode to the main doorway of the bridge and gave one look to the security officer who grimaced and quickly opened the bulkhead door onto the bridge. 

 

She took three steps in and stopped. Her visored gaze staring at the Admiral and his general staff. Then she opened the scroll and read the words she had already memorized. Her sightless gaze staring to the grizzled mandalorian admiral. 

 

“Admiral Kolchak, by decree of Her Royal Majesty, the Empress Raven of this united Rebel Alliance and Imperium. You are to be commended and promoted to Grand Admiral of the combined fleets. Serving in conjunction with your Rebel Comrades of the same rank, and given the distinction of Grand Moff of the Imperial Dominion.” 

 

Which could really only mean one thing. Should the Empress fall in battle, he would take her place.

 

“You have served with distinction and deserve the commendation of the Imperial and Rebel Forces. And should the worst happen, I have no doubt in your ability to maintain what we have long fought together to build. May the force be with you, and may you never forget where you have come from. Serve with humility and protect the innocent.”

 

The Imperial Knight let the scroll return to its shape, the wax seal crumbling to a red powder. 

“Do you, Nikolai Kolchak, accept the commands of the Empress?”