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Raphanel took a long steadying breath and pulled himself to his feet. Exhaustion bit at his knees and clenched the muscles of his thighs, painfully reminding him of what mental and physical costs such feats of the force brought with them. He took another breath and let the force flow its way through his body, clearing away exhaustion and ache, leaving the vigor of youth in its wake. Another feat that he would pay for after the mission, but for now, the rescuing of the slaves in the main hangar was the priority. Knights did not need to see in the dark to prove effective, and the three of them blended into the murky void as they ran towards their objective. Those cruel and harsh Umbarans with whips of electrified durasteel, whose malice radiated through the force like a beacon. The three knights dodged between shadow to shadow, to fall upon the slavers when the rest of the boarding team made their presence known.

Fera did not sound disappointed at all when she was forced to repeat herself. On the contrary, she seemed almost pleased that an organic and that Jedi were actually speaking binary, after the experience of non-understanding from the Healer Leena. >We are two separate entities. RUIN is my ward. He is developing sentience, and I have assigned myself to his protection and learning until he has developed full sentience and natural autonomy from his own programming.< “Learning and burning.” Ruin seemed to add, holding up an open hand and shaking it side to side. “Burning and learning.” >Indeed. His primary programming states two directives: Primary Directive: Eliminate all active Sith forces. Secondary Directive: Eliminate active sith sympathizer forces. As I know Jedi appreciate the protection of life over the destruction of it, please note that Ruin has worked with his programming to protect Jedi Healer Leena and Knight Skyshatter from Sith forces on Byss, as well as 0 bystander casualties on the Imperial attack on Outer Heaven station.< When the other Jedi spoke up, both Ruin and Fera looked them over. Ruin shook his head at the question directed to Fera. “Make fear. Fear universal. Talking and bashing? Talking is bashing.” >What Ruin means is that his original designation is a terror droid. His original programmers believed his method of talking was more intimidating than what you normally hear from droids. < Ruin nodded with Fera’s beepings and buzzings. However, Fera continued on. >Please do not mistake his communication as incompetence or as poor programming. I have observed his intellect and observation skills. Think of it as a type of specialized dialect<

Æquitas shook the memory from his mind as the realization of his outburst rippled outward, his shaking clammed hands sweaty in the palms, the erratic hasten of his heart beat pounding through the drums of his ears, the overwhelming sense of dread and calamity that hung over his soul. Looking to Agent Orin, Misal, and Master Armiena, he blinked and focused himself as their words reached out to him. "I..I..I'm sorry. Forgive me." He managed to stammer from his lips as he brought his hand up to the brevor that covered the scar upon his face. "I didn't mean... I wasn't insinuating... I... I...." As Agent Orin made his departure, Sanguis turned to Master Draygo-Darkfire as she spoke, his ears hearing her words as he fought against the anxiety that had taken ahold of him. He knew the Tsis from the Jedi Archives of Ossus. He knew their history and their political background before and after the arrival of the Dark Jedi that added fuel to their heritage and inevitably took it as their own. But he didn't like the aspects of this war, nor did he truly want to play a part in it. But as a Jedi, it was his duty, his commitment. And yet, Nar Shadaa still plagued him deeply so. Night terrors had became a frequent occurrence, reliving that day over and over in both his sleep and in his day. So much so that aiding the sick and wounded had became his only respite. And it had come to consume him, so much so that his focus outside of himself had only hindered his own healing. Something he was beginning to see. But the child... the child he could not remove from his mind. Nor that of the Ithorian, so justified and righteous, a smile that encompassed his presence within the Force when he detonated the device. Had the wars of the Republic and the Alliance made life so undesirable and justified such destruction? These had become the doubts that plagued Sanguis Æquitas the most, not as a Jedi, but as a citizen. Distracted by the arrival of the two droids, Master Armiena's words trailed off into oblivion, but most of her words had reached him and a sense of calm had began to replace the hesitation. His sapphiric eyes full of emotion casually turned toward them before surprise took hold. Turning back briefly to Armiena, Sanguis nodded with a simply and subtle reply. "I understand Grandmaster. And thank you." Turning back toward the two arrivals, Sanguis remained silent for most of the conversation, his experience with the droid's binary language limited at best. He understood a few basic chirps and bleeps, but for the most part, it may have as well been High Galactic. As a break in the conversation presented a brief intermittent, Sanguis finally spoke up a brief but curious question that had plagued him since their arrival. "Excuse me, little one." He spoke, his monolog tone briefly breaking with the previous emotional overload from before their arrival. Clearing his throat, he continued, pointing his finger at Ruin as he poised his question. "Is his vocabulator broken?"

((For @MSA and @TerrorBot)) A sort of psychic revulsion coursed from Sanguis. Grandmaster Draygo’s back stiffened and she stood upright despite the exhaustion, and her mind alerted from sudden concern, rather than outrage at the ridiculous accusation that the Jedi Knight had just leveled at her. Her pale-green eyes studied Aequitas, taking in the shadows under the Jedi’s eyes, posture… possible bloodshot eyes. There was a chance that he had not slept in quite some time, but it was the location of his mind that concerned her the most: that is, its attention was present elsewhere. Those were symptoms that Armiena was very familiar with. “We’re not talking about a species of exotic birds or a megafauna that require protection against a bunch of poachers that believe its horns will cure… these are people. They have the misfortune of living on a world that’s about to be visited by a… liberating force, but they have their own politics and agenda, and we may even be able to parley with them. Good luck, Agent, and The Force be with you. And Sanguis… I would appreciate it if we could speak in private for a moment.” The Jedi Grandmaster nudged Aequitas by one of his shoulders and guided him towards an electronics closet that was being rewired by one of the Alliance’s technicians. The Devaronian seeming to recognize that he was about to be privy to a highly personal (and possibly classified) conversation, the technician decided that it would make a fantastic opportunity to take a lunch break or smoke a cigarra or… be anywhere else. The closet was not a comfortable room–the briefing room was humid and somewhat close, but the electronics closet was stuffed full of blinking, heat-generating computers and spools of cables that the two needed to step over. A number of ventilation fans was insufficient comfort, and sweat immediately began to bead on Draygo’s face. “Sanguis, I know that you’re in pain and lashing out because of it.” In these close quarters, it was impossible to avoid the unnerving study of her eyes. She watched carefully for twitches in the facial muscles, potential redness in his eyes, tension in his shoulders. “I have lived in that state for an unreasonable length of time and drove away people who didn’t deserve it. But I do want a Jedi on this mission, one that I can trust to do what they think is right regardless of the circumstances. If you do go… I would like you to try and make contact with these… Tsis. We probably won’t succeed, but I would very much like to try and bury this generational grudge between our peoples. Regardless of your choice, please contact me later. I will make time–what in the…” At that moment, an enormous battle droid had begun to stomp into the briefing room. It stood only a few centimeters taller than the Jedi Grandmaster, but it was covered in so many layers of armor and redundant servos and Force-only knew how many weapons that it had to mass several times her weight. In contrast, an insect-like droid perched on its armor-plated shoulder. Armiena made a triple-take, her eyes flickering between the clearly troubled Jedi Knight, the battle droid, and its pre-Imperial counterpart. There was something else she felt she should say… but it would have to wait for later. She squeezed the Jedi Knight on the shoulder. “I mean it, I will make time,” she repeated. “But I need to see to these two.” There was a mixture of confusion and fascination on Draygo face, because the Jedi Grandmaster was fairly confident–but not certain–that the two droids were a pre-Imperial Buzz Droid and one of the pre-Clone Wars battle droid prototypes–not the pathetic B1-series that had somehow undergone mass production, but one of the truly capable prototypes that had only been produced in limited runs. That was probably a cost-cutting measure by the Confederacy, much to the benefit of the Old Republic. She had no idea that any of those droids were still intact, let alone operational and certainly not in the service of the Galactic Alliance. An exceptionally nerdy corner of Draygo’s mind wanted very badly to get a look under the droid’s chassis, violations of the droid’s privacy and sapience be damned. “Hold up, I can understand binary, but it’s been… a long time. Please repeat the former.” Armiena held up a hand when she approached the two droids. She looked downwards at the battle droid’s feet, listening intensely to the rapid-fire beeps and buzzes from the buzz droid. A few seconds passed when the droid repeated itself, intense concentration furrowing the Grandmaster’s brow as she translated the borderline-mathematical language to Basic. She had been surrounded by droids her entire life, but the dialect of some of the pre-Imperial droids was challenging to discern. “You are correct, the Galactic Alliance is launching a mission to liberate Korriban from the Sith Lords. Admiral Slaughter will be in command. It will be an assault in a dense urban spaceport, with civilian assets that must not come to harm. “Before I continue, I’d like to ask.” Her gaze returned from the floor and passed between the two droids. “Are you two… professional counterparts? Or a single symbiotic unit?”

Keenava finished tearing the flesh from her meaty entrée with her teeth and took a moment to wipe at her mouth with the closest napkin-like utensil she could find. She patiently listened to Sandy's words and bowed her head gently at appropriate moments. She even preened a little when the young woman told her how proud she was. It was odd; she felt feather-light tingles brush at the tips of her fingers, and her lekku twitched ever so slightly at Sandy's words even when they both knew very little of each other. But compliments were not things the Twi'lek got very often, so anything positive was either regarded with suspicion or admiration. It all depended on intention. And Sandy was not expressing any level of condescension. Her praise was genuine. Her request, however, was far from simple. It wasn’t like Keenava had anything to hide, but maybe she didn’t need to go into every knitty gritty detail. "Well, to know about my past, you may need to understand a few things that you may find difficult, or you may not fully relate to due to your time with the Jedi. For instance, No one is born a Sith. No one comes into the world wanting to cause harm. Well… The vast majority don’t. I can’t account for every baby in the galaxy and all potential conditions.” Keenava took a small meditative breath and clasped her fingers together upon the cold steel of the table. “Regardless… the vast majority of Sith only become Sith due to pain, trauma, loss, or some disconnection from the rest of the galaxy. In their desperate cry, they search for strength and that strength isn’t usually offered by the Jedi. At least, it hasn’t been.” “My story started years ago when I was sold into slavery to settle a debt. I was the first to be sold, followed by my sister, and my mother. But I fought to be first in the hopes that I might protect them from the same fate.” Keenava felt a burning line build on the rim of her eyes as her story continued, telling her of tears that were fighting to the surface. She stifled the impulse. “It was years before I saw them again. And when I did, I was forced to witness my mother’s death while others looked on and laughed. Thankfully, my sister never had to see that. But that moment broke me. I lost all touch with who I was, what I was, and where I was… And it wasn’t until the darkness found me that I had any purpose. The darkness offered hope. Hundreds of thousands of slaves went years without ever having hope. The Jedi didn’t see or know where they were, whether that was due to other issues or just not being able to save all the souls in the galaxy, it didn’t matter. It wasn’t the Jedi’s fault, but their inaction led to possibility. And for people like me, I was easy to take advantage of.” “Masters came and went: Jzora Scorpio, Julio Furion, and Exodus. Each discarded me when they grew tired of me. But through all that, I learned who I was. I mastered the common, Twi'leki, and Huttese languages. I learned many subjects and taught myself a great many things. But it was all hollow. I engaged in the petty Sith squabbles and did many stupid things. I even got into a fight with a woman named Ailbasi Zirtani. That was the last stupid fight I got into before I died; truly died. We all know how prolific cloning is in the Galaxy even if the expense isn’t always worth it. But for the first time in a long time, I didn’t know a single soul that had my DNA. I went a long time floating in nothing. But something felt odd, right before I came back… like a bright burning blue flame casting away the shadow that had embraced me for so long. And when I woke up a few days ago, I felt like a big arm had just wiped the slate clean. I felt like I was given a chance to start over. And this time, I was going to do what I could to make a better choice.” Keenava sighed. “Apparently some slaver had won my DNA over a game of Sabaak from one of my dad’s old contacts. I was touted as a rare specimen with a valuable skin defect. Black skinned Twi’leks due tend to have a bigger price. They kept me on drugs for several days and it wasn’t until I woke up in a dancer’s dress that I had any idea where I was.” “Reflecting on my experience now, I wouldn’t say that the Dark is an addiction. I’d say it’s a curse. The great irony of it is that, as a people, we fought to free ourselves from the shackles of duty, obligation, honor, integrity, slavery, morality, etc. But in the end, we traded our shackles for another set. The dark side cripples you. While it grants you power, it clips your wings and creates the illusion of safety. It creates that appeal that you call an addiction, but its so much worse. Empty promises, betrayals, power struggles, egos the size of oceans; that and more were the day to day with my contemporary Sith. Even if I never become a Jedi master, I never want to go back.” Keenava’s face was liberally speckled with tears that left slightly darker lines upon her obsidian skin. Her expression was solemn, and her body language was numb. It wasn’t everything, but this would at least give them both some context.

“No kriffing way I’m turning it back on” The young human declared, refusing to take another step towards the sleeping giant of a droid. Sergeant Klaff growled at the young man, almost snarling. Despite being a human, he sometimes came across like a Trandosian. “Thats an order soldier, now hop to it.” The young man looked at his commanding officer, then back at the droid, then back at the other three soldiers who had guns trained on the lumbering hulk. The thing was captured trying to steal a ship from the compound, and only had been brought down by a lucky ionization bolt. Since then it had been turned off and kept shut off via a restraining bolt. No one had dared to turn it on again, let alone try to reprogram it. Klaff wiped a bead of sweat off his brow as the young man went to the droid’s back side, attempting to turn it on. There was a reason he ordered the young man to do so and not do it himself. This droid was chosen specifically for the Korriban Mission, and any being, droid or not, deserve a lot of respect and, more so, distance. Ruin came to life with a sound of power generating inside his body. Glancing around, Ruin took a step forward, to the soldiers bringing their guns up more sharply. “Not sith…” Ruin commented. “Gotta kill sith. Hunting and seeking. Blasting and bashing” >Indeed, i agree< A sound of buzzing and chirping emitted. To the shock of everyone, a small buzz droid had somehow snuck along the ground and behind the behemoth of a droid, crawling up and onto its shoulder. “Where did that…” Klaff blubbered out before ordering his men to not fire. “Let's see where this goes.” >The individuals here are planning an attack on Korriban< Fera continued, her eyes focused on the commander, despite talking to Ruin, as if warning the commander. >I recommend we find one of these people i have uploaded to your H.U.D.< A beep came from the Terror Droid’s head, who swiftly suddenly turned and began to leave the group, despite the men not lowering their weapons. Klaff ordered a disengage. It seemed the droid knew what to do. “Korriban?” Ruin grunted, unholstering his flechette launcher from his back, checking its ammo and its general shape and function. >Yes. From what I've gathered, it is the cultural homeworld of the Sith as a whole. Possibly the origin of all the Sith teachings. A metaphorical heart of hell if there ever was one< Ruin seemed to nod at this. “Hunting and killing. Bashing and burning. Smash, smash, smash.” At this, he tapped the hammer-like weapon on his back. >Indeed< It didn’t take long for the two to find the individuals Fera had mentioned. A group of individuals consisting of Jedi and an Imperial Agent. With the Agent leaving the group, Ruin continued his normal course and followed the Jedi. Between the Imperials that stunned him and the Jedi that the droid revered, it was obvious who to follow. "Huntings and seekings, seekings and huntings. Korriban." Ruin said as he came close to the Jedi @ObliviousKnight and @MSA. >Excuse us, this is B-5 87, designated as RUIN. I am Fera. Ruin is expressing eagerness in with helping you hunt Sith forces on the mission on Korriban.< Fera chirpped in binary, her form like a spider crawling over Ruin's shoulder to get a better look "Bashings and burnings. Hunt Sith. Help Jedi. Bombings and bondings. Good times" As ruin said this, he pointed at the Jedi's lightsabers. >He is also expressing the fact that he looks forward to working with Jedi again. His recent experiences with the Jedi have been quite positive in his programming of hunting down Sith Forces. I am also looking forward, as this may prove to be helpful to my ward> Fera buzzed and babbled in binary. Hopefully the Jedi understood her, otherwise, Ruin's talking could be quite confusing to say the least.

For a few hours, it seemed as though Admiral Slaughter had dropped off the face of the galaxy. Even the Barabel Jedi Healer who had been assigned to shadow the Admiral and ensure that he didn’t overexert himself into an early retirement somehow managed to lose track of her ward. Everywhere Master Zal searched, he found a small army of cooperative noncoms and lower-echelon officers who were pretty sure that they had seen Admiral Slaughter meeting with Viceroy Longfang, or visiting with wounded soldiers in the medical ward, or practicing at the small arms range… or really, anything that seemed realistic for the middle-aged soldier. One Captain who had known Slaughter since their days in the Republic Talons completely lost her head and claimed he was on a conditioning run. “A conditioning run.” “Yessir, Master Jedi, sir.” Captain Johanna Bryce of the Talons piped up cheerfully. “He’s rather anal about pesh-trill. Kinda maddening.” “The man has lost the use of his legs, soldier. What kind of fool do you take me for?” The Barabel fixed the tall woman with a cold-blooded glower. “Someone who needs to re-assigned to the front, Master Jedi. He’ll be fine. He’s probably holed himself in a room and is yelling his head off at Fondor or Corellia or summat. Having a wonderful time. He’ll be fine.” Captain Bryce’s prediction proved to be correct. At that moment, Slaughter had sealed himself into one of the compartmented rooms within the Alliance complex and driven out all but a few officers on his personal staff. The Admiral had pulled himself out of his wheelchair and sat cross-legged on the cold concrete, surrounded by a madman’s network of holograms, paperwork, spreadsheets, three comlinks, and a half-eaten ration. His ire had already been visited on Fondor and would soon be inflicted on the Corellian Engineering Corporation. A third irate conversation would soon visit the Chief Engineers who had been tasked with breaking old starfighters out of mothballs. He rubbed a hand across a day’s worth of stubble and contemplated the calculated insanity that lay around him. The infantry forces stationed on Korriban were not a significant concern. It was highly unlikely that those forces hadn’t already been removed to more important planets–probably Onderon, or Kamino, or even Umbara. The real concern were the anti-orbital assets. Ground-based turbolasers were murderous on the light ships and frigates that comprised the vast majority of his task force. Fidelity lacked sufficient firepower to duel with a garrison’s worth of turbolaser batteries. Local point-defenses ruled out the possibility of a frontal assault. The Alliance couldn’t afford the time and ships required for a blockade… But in those limitations, Slaughter saw his strategy. The Admiral was familiar with his reputation as a fighting-Admiral. His history was that of a mixture of aggression and relentlessness. His previous attacks on Sullust, Onderon, and other planets had been slow, grinding affairs that slowly built up pressure on hostile defenses. His formations were typically dense, mutually-supporting squadrons of cruisers and corvettes that were meticulously designed for a combination of firepower and area denial. He was somewhat attached to a single ship, that old MC90 cruiser Fidelity. He was excessively reliant on vulnerable corvettes to support his starfighter squadrons. He did not shy from confrontation. For the first time in several days, Bruce actually smiled. He would present the Sith with exactly what they expected–a competent, but somewhat conventional Admiral of the Galactic Alliance. Then he would destroy them with the lessons he had learned from the Rebellion. _____ Thousands of kilometers above Ylesia, what would have been a skeleton of a task force in the days of the Rebel Alliance began to take form. Fidelity, an old, battle-tested MC90 cruiser that hadn’t even had a chance to paint over the scars of Nar Shaddaa, would form the nucleus of that squadron. Approximately its same size but considerably newer, Benediction, a Nebula-class Star Destroyer from Fondor kept station only a few kilometers away. The unfortunate Star Destroyer seemed cursed to forever be rushed prematurely into service: the vast majority of her weapons had yet to be installed and she had only been given a coat of bone-white primer, and internal compartments had been gutted for additional hangar space. A dozen-odd corvettes and other light ships moved about the task force on picket duty. About half of them were old Raider II-class corvettes and “Hammerhead”-corvettes from the early days of the Rebel Alliance, but there were a few newer ships: Imperial Vigil-class corvettes and Naboo designed Senth-class corvettes. Those latter ships resembled enormous flying wings and were studded with a frightening array of quad laser turrets, each effectively a no-fly zone for hostile starfighters. Those flying wings were so small in profile that they sometimes disappeared from sensor sweeps–and their crews had reported that the handling of those ships resembled that of an enormous starfighter. Several other ships served as tenders and escort carriers. Those were almost entirely heavy freighters with only a few crew members, barely enough to service a few starfighters. Still, in this time where the Galactic Alliance was desperate for every weapons platform, even a refitted cargo ship was a valuable resource.