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Nok sputtered as a droid roughly lifted him to his feet, the fork of indeterminate foodstuff clattering to the table. "#11579, you require guidance. Follow." Nok barely managed to catch the edge of his walker and move it in front of him as the security droid began "guiding" him out of the dining area, its hand firmly gripping his arm. Half stumbling, half sliding as the droid dragged him along, his mind began to turn over what was happening. A break in the schedule. Something was happening. Maybe just a malfunction. Still... As his feet brushed a workout mat, he realized where he'd been brought. The rec room, a place he'd only occasionally visited, given his physical frailty. The droid positioned him somewhere near the center of the room and let him go, leaving without a word to complete some other chore. Judging from the shuffling sounds, other prisoners were being funneled into the room. What was going on? He didn't want to get his hopes up, but it smelled like opportunity.

The Fiat Lux entered the system, looking far much more ready and stronger than its actual crew. Beck Pilon stood at the center of the bridge and let out a massive sigh as everything from the jump settled down. Lilla Rurn stood at his side looking at a datapad, running over the notes and other things from the battle. "Only three covered from escape pods needed medical attention. All of the shuttles have been prepare though and are ready for departure to the surface. They just need your command sir." He looked around the bridge for a second, observing the hard working crew in their element. While he wanted all of them to take a break, he knew that not everyone would be able to, as the ship would still need some form of a crew to operate. "Prioritize the crew that have been serving the longest, along with those recovered in escape pods. Has there been any official word if my presence has been required on the surface?" Almost as soon as he said it, he had hoped that the answer would be no. His crew deserved breaks, and he would rather be the one to let them go versus having to make himself a priority to get off the ship. "... Looks like a meeting already took place, before our arrival- lucky dog. No word has been issued to see commanding officers yet." Beck turned and gave the rebel lieutenant a half smirking smile. "Luck or stubbornness to leave the system until the job was done? I'll let someone else decide that." He turned back to observe the deck, letting out a very small sigh as he finished. "But how long can I hide away from the politics when we brought back one of the bigger remaining ships in the fleet?" His own face locked eyes on the Fidelity, the MC90 that was almost directly across from the Fiat Lux. He doubted that either commander of the larger vessels would play smaller roles in what's about to happen. The shift in the galaxy. But the main difference between the two Admirals was this; Slaughter was used to the political side of the navy. Pilon was not. Many other Admirals within the imperial Navy held grandeur dreams of controlling aspects of fleets and academies. Never Beck. He preferred his own ship, commanding the Fiat Lux. Nothing else was truly wanted, or needed. He just simply wanted to continue to serve the Empire, which would now look massively different going forward. And he doubted there would be a chance to sit back and remain within the shadows as he always had before. Lieutenant Rurn touched his shoulder ever slightly. "It may be too bold to say this freely, but since I'm not technically under your command, you're a fantastic Admiral, and one well worth the rank. It's been a pleasure to serve alongside you during the Nar Shaddaa battle. May the Force give you the rest and reward that you deserve." He only half looked at her, giving a much smaller and weaker smile, with an even less enthusiastic nod. She simply nodded back and then gave a salute and left the bridge to join those headed to the surface. Her words, while comforting, did little for him. He didn't believe in the Force, nor did he care for it. He also didn't care for getting what he deserved or even getting a reward. He simply wanted to remain in his small role, to which he knew he would no longer be able to do going forward.

Gross...gross...gross... The word ran through my head in a silent mantra. The squelching, the slime, and the stink, all conspired to tickle my gag reflex. I focused as hard as I could on just not throwing up, if for no other reason than to not embarass myself in front of my new partners. That's why I didn't notice what was swimming behind us. I saw the tusken climb up onto a pathway that I had completely missed in the gloom. That tusken had sharp eyes or something, because even seeing him clamber up onto it, I still could barely make it out. I reached out for the path, but jerked to a stop a few inches from it, my foot caught in a particularly sucky spot. I yanked my foot up, but whatever I was stuck in didn't come loose. I jerked again, and kicking, but still the weight that had settled on my foot remained. I turned to pull my foot out from whatever had snagged me by hand, when I saw the shadows swirling through the water. At that point, I came to a sudden realization. I wasn't stuck. I was grabbed. No sooner had I realized this fact then the creature decided to play with its new toy. I found myself suddenly lifted straight up out of the muck and dangling by my foot in the air, being waved back and forth like a toddler with a new doll. I made several grabs for the tentacle, but the rapid shaking threw me off just enough to keep me from getting a grip. "HEY!" I called out, not sure what they'd do but hopeful they could do something.

(( @MSA)) Several light-minutes away from Ylesia, one of the many picket ships that served as a tripwire against the possibility of a Sith invasion detected the reversion of a military vessel from hyperspace. Only seconds after the patrol boat fixed its oversized sensor array on the interloper and angled to intercept the craft, an even more alarming event transpired. The spacecraft, tentatively identified as the CR90 corvette Hastati and registered to the Sith Imperial garrison of Onderon, blew up. It had activated its scuttle charges, instantly venting its atmosphere to vacuum and detonating its engines The only remains of the vessel that drifted through space were a cloud of glimmering, superheated alloys, a few chunks of bone… and two escape pods that had blasted away from the ship. Both contained multiple life forms, and both had blasted away at sufficient speed and at a vector to avoid interception. One of them was transmitting a Jedi Identify-Friend/Foe recognition code, albeit one that was badly outdated and known to be broken by the Sith Empire. Both landed in the coastal mud flats of the southern continent of the planet, a long distance from the refugee camps… but also in a location where both pods would slowly sink under the gray, cement-like mud. To make matters more urgent, the tide was coming in and both escape pods would eventually run out of their oxygen supply. ________ “Knight Aequitas!” One of the many non-Force Sensitive support personnel of the Jedi Order came jogging after the Jedi Knight. Captain Xisqis was a Rodian shuttle pilot, momentarily assigned to the many search-and-rescue crews that were probing the various damaged vessels and hulks that were congregating on Ylesia. A translator unit was dangling just under the green-skinned reptiloid’s neck, dutifully converting the squeaks of the pilot’s native language to a carefully enunciated--if robotically dull--unaccented Basic. Xisqis hurriedly introduced himself and his purpose. “Captain Xisqis, search and rescue. We’ve had an unusual development. A pair of escape pods settled in the southern continent in a tidal swamp. We only have a few hours before the tide comes in and extraction gets a lot more difficult. They came from a Sith scout ship, so the higher-ups wanted a Jedi on the team in the event things get interesting. You available?”

The five Sluissi continued to do the work of Black Sun, breaking the system for no other purpose then show that it could be done. It was a weird and awkward contract to accept, but the pay was so good, only a fool would have turned it down. They had setup exactly as the request was made. An isolated remote location, hack into the main HealthiDrive system, use their relays to hack into the fortified prison. Thus far, that was all a cake walk. The hard part was the triple remote access into the system on Nespis VIII. The system was already hard to crack without alerting everyone that they had broken in. But some systems were easier to find backdoors into without altering anyone. The first system was the charging system for all of the droids. But many of those droids could go days without having a charge, so it was fairly pointless at first. The food processors and lavatories were also easier to crack into, but did require some time. Ktess got excited when he finally did get into the system for the food processors, to which all he could do was either fully lock them down, or have them spit out food nonstop. He choose a mix of the two, to cause some more chaos as much as he could. Hjunn cracked into the lavatories almost nineteen minutes after Ktess got in on his end. Now all that remained for the five Sluissi were some random cameras, two weak point comm systems and a few weaker doors. It wouldn't be much, but it would prove a point. And that was all that they had to do for Black Sun. Prove that the system could be tampered with. Why was still a mystery to them, but the pay was high enough to overlook everything else. **** Droid Command **** LV8-Y1 processor system quickly flagged down the alarm that the food processors had begun to malfunction amidst some prisoners eating. "What is the diagnosis" The metallic voice was met by another, FSD-12, the main droid in the kitchen area. "Unknown. Food processors 2,5,8 and 12 are not working at all. Food processors 1,3,4,6,7,9,10 and 11 will not stop outputting food. Shutting down the grid system in the mess hall is the only way to to regain control and provide a full report on what is happening. All prisoners must be taken back to their cells for this action to be complete. Your authorization is required for this action." LV8-Y1 turned his upper portion and opened a comm channel. "All non-assigned security to the Mess Hall- authorization code seven-delta-five-three-one." Another droid, R6-D9 beeped loudly and rapidly at LV8-Y1. The command droid turned directly to the astromech droid. "What do you mean cell 200R6 is flooded?" The droid beeped again. "The lavatory is flooding. Those systems were updated two weeks ago, it is impossible for them to have any issues." The small astromech droid beeped and spun it's head around as it continued to explain. "Other lavatories are beginning to show the same thing. Our system must be compromised somewhere. Alert maintenance command." LV8-Y1 turned its upper body again and sent another message to all security droids. "Move all prisoners to rec floor under protocol red-seven-two. Await further orders."

Thirty minutes later, a Barabel Jedi arrived in the medical ward of Fidelity. Dressed in cream-colored robes with an ornate, textured pattern more suited for one of the Old Republic’s librarians than the embedded warriors of the present day, the reptile merely held up her lightsaber to the security guards that flanked the portal to Admiral Slaughter’s suite, who responded with a murmured thanks and opening the sealed blast door. Just within, the surgeon Captain Kozim was not pleased with the presence of the Jedi. Something of a biological supremacist, it had not occurred to the Bith that his own assistant droids could have displayed the creativity and independence to forge medical orders in his own name. “What in the blazes is going on? The Jedi were not summoned–and not required.” The translator unit dangling from the Bith’s chin buzzed irritably. “Undoubtedly. But the galaxy requires that this man returns to service as quickly as possible. A Jedi Healer will be of significant assistance in this man’s recovery. I must be allowed to help.” Despite the fact that Master Zal’s smile was lined with dozens of scalpel-sharp teeth that could exsanguinate a sapient within seconds, the Bith surgeon found himself nodding agreeably with the Jedi Healer’s proposal of collaboration. The Barabel was so reasonable in her request–her supplication, even–to offer assistance, that it was impossible to not offer the stooped reptile a space at the head of the bacta tank. “Yes, you must be allowed to help.” The translator unit buzzed obediently as Bith’s enormous eyes took on a glassy appearance. “You may find this a novel experience. Collaboration between Jedi Healers… uh… uh… medicals as brilliant as yourself is unusual. You should probably check the cams in this studio, the recording may be valuable in the future.” Again, the Bith found himself nodding agreeably with this suggestion and proceeded to double-check the many sensors within the bacta tank that were reporting on the Admiral’s vitals, and the holocams throughout the room. There were very few medicos who could boast that they had worked with a Jedi Healer–those recordings would almost certainly yield valuable data. “I–yes, of course. I’d… welcome the… opportunity to work with a Jedi Healer. But this is my patient., If I ask you to do something, you do it.” Master Zal didn’t even respond audibly. The little nod that lowered her face wasn’t for the surgeon, it was for the Healer’s private little ritual as she prepared herself to administer to yet another patient who had been critically wounded at Nar Shaddaa. She opened her arms to place her clawed hands on either side of Admiral Slaughter’s face. The middle-aged soldier’s lines were tense and creased with exhaustion lines–as though he was still managing to grind his teeth despite the fact that he was in a coma induced by hypovolemia and traumatic injury. Admiral Slaughter, wake up. The Republic needs you. ____ With a gasp that became a cloud of bubbles and a low groan of barely-suppressed pain, Admiral Slaughter woke up. His first thought was that he probably wasn’t dead. He figured that if he was dead, he’d probably be in a clean uniform, or in the company of his deceased wife… instead, he was surrounded by a pink, translucent fluid, wearing shorts that barely covered his anatomy, with cords and sensors placed on his chest, tubes that went into his arms, and a breath mask over his mouth. Reincarnation was probably not a possibility… It was only a few seconds after staring at his own waist that he realize exactly what had changed–his anatomy. His abdomen wasn’t a mess of bloodied dressings, shredded flesh and gore that was being pressed upon by three medics in an attempt to stop his bleeding–it was now smooth, unscarred… and extremely tender flesh. The untested muscles were groaning merely at the effort of breathing. He definitely wasn’t dead, then. “Admiral, your breath mask is fitted with a comms unit,” came the buzz of an artificial voice, distorted by the bacta fluid. “We can hear you outside the bacta tank.” “Mwhere,” a cloud of bubbles issued around his face as he forcibly exhaled bacta fluid that can crept into his nostrils. His abdominal muscles burned at that effort. “”Mwhere ah I?” “Ylesia. Specifically, you’re in the medical ward of Fidelity.” “Mwhy Yle–eea?” “Rendezvous point for the fleet after Nar Shaddaa. Things were very chaotic after the battle. You’ve missed quite a bit. Moff Vangar Longfang of the Imperial Remnant has declared a new Galactic Alliance–” “‘oo? Mwha? Eh’ ee ow uh dis dang, eh’ ee a unibormmm.” “Admiral, you still have another session ahead of you–and two surgeries for a spinal implant, and physical therapy–” “Ih gan mwaid. ‘Ads amn orher.” ____ Ten minutes later, he was pulled out of the tank, hosed down and vacuumed of the few stray rivulets of precious bacta that clung to his body. Listening in silence as he was placed in an old-fashioned wheelchair–not even equipped with repulsors, but one outfitted with wheels that required muscle input for locomotion–a pair of medical aides guided his paralyzed legs into a fresh uniform, tightened combat boots around his numb feet, and helped the Admiral don the tunic of an active-duty uniform with a fractal camouflage pattern. The aides even parked his chair in front of a mirror so he could shave. His face was pale from anemia and scarred near his left eye, and his shaking hands inflicted a small nick under his chin, but he would at least be presentable for the politicians and command structure of the... Galactic Alliance, or whatever the coalition was now calling itself. “Now, inform Viceroy @Vangar Longfang that I have returned to duty. I will be on my way groundside to meet him as soon as possible–I can wheel myself, thank you, Master Jedi.” The Admiral placed his hands on either side of the wheelchair and braced himself for an hour of pain and exertion. As he wheeled himself towards Fidelity’s keel hangar, he thought he heard cheering…

As the force moved through Sandy Sarna, she let it flow in and out of her like a tide. Relieving the pain of the dying woman beside her. She was swathed in bacta bandages that had bled through in transport, her skin and organs coming apart from deep tissue radiation damage with every jostle of the medical evacuation ship. It had been a turbulent journey, and the young imperial officer cried silent tears that streaked blood red down the side of her face into a congealed mess of her now equally red hair. The Jedi would not speed the natural death of someone who could not be saved, but they were there to comfort and lead like angels to the gates of hades. She could feel her own tears sliding gently down her tired face. Unimaginably hot as they traced their way to her chin. Bacta had miraculous powers, moreso when paired with the organic and ancient kolto that was still shipped off of Manaan. But it was not a cure all, and with only so many tanks and supplies, many of the most grievously wounded were given sedatives and left to pass away as peacefully as they could. In that way, as well as many others, the stain of the tragedy of the Nar Shaddaa permeated the force around them. It stuck to the refugees and the wounded like a thick oil, oozing out of their pores with every heaving breath or sobbing cry. Sandy felt the grip of the young officer strengthen for a moment, her clear gray eyes staring into Sandy’s as she struggled against a dissolving larynx to speak. There was resolve there in her eyes, where minutes before they had been clouded with pain. “Tell him Serro I still love him.” Sandy returned the grip with her own. Squeezing the woman’s hand hard as she nodded. “I will.” And the young officer smiled once, before her face went slack and she breathed no more. Sandy held the grip for a minute before her other hand reached up and closed the sightless gray eyes that stared without fear into oblivion. One death among the trillions that had perished in the battle of Nar Shaddaa. If ever there was evidence of a tear in the force, a great tragedy that would last a multitude of generations. Spinning a trauma that could last until the last star in the galaxy burned into a shroud of darkness. It was something to discuss with the council, if anyone of the council still remained alive. She could sense Leena, and even see her, but Draygo she could not feel. Nor could she feel Kirlocca. And for a moment she could feel a rush of emotion as her heart sank for him. He had found someone truly special in the Empress, and now with her death, she could not fathom how he must feel. It would cut her to the core if she lost Aidan. He had been her cornerstone since she was a teenager. So as she stood and tried to wipe away the tiredness of the day, she whispered a prayer for Kirlocca before opening her eyes to look for her apprentices. They were both assisting in the comfort of the wounded as they should have been. She glanced up to the Roene and gave him a nod of appreciation before gesturing the two apprentices to her. “I believe it is time that we break for a while, get some food in us and get to know each other before we continue into exhaustion.” She gestured them to follow her to the sanitation station and from there into the small attached cafeteria which was sparsely populated with exhausted medical staff and a few serving droids that were dishing up food. She grabbed a non discript salad and sat down at one of the empty tables, when they had joined her she gave them each a smile before taking a bite of her food. “So tell me about yourselves. What brings you here and what are you are trying to become.”