Space

[Dashel Illioni]

The fleet finally received clearance from the Taskforce commander to go to hyperspace and complete their transit to Coruscant. The only kerfluffle for the entire group consisted of deathsticks being smuggled by a small group of crewmembers on board one of the older Action II’s. The drugs were found during a search of the ship ordered by the Captain before being inspected by the GR navy. Dashel found himself needing to prevent the rest of their crew from spacing them.

 

After turning the perpetrators to the navy, the Jedi fleet finished their repairs and headed for Coruscant. Dashel watched the various cargo ships, from the immense Action series to the smaller freighters enter hyperspace.

 

He called Drej to the bridge and let him have the command seat.

 

“Apprentice,” he said, “Take us to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Once we get there, you can take our gear into the Temple. Move the gear into the Temple Master’s quarters than meet me in the gardens of the Shrine.”

 

He smiled at the apprentice. “The gardens are not planted yet. Plan on getting yourself very dirty as we will be assisting in setting them up. Also be aware that there are hospital patients using some of the bare paths and we will be interacting with them.”

 

(Post us arriving, moving our gear into the Shrine Master's quarters, and arriving at the bare, empty gardens that consist of simple concrete and gravel paths and little else in this thread: http://forums.jedirp.net/viewtopic.php?f=28&t=21722)

[Emily]

Even through the haze, Emily felt a sudden stab of fear as the cultist leader stood over her. He ignited first Sirvani’s lightsaber, then the one she had made on Spite Station. There was something in his eyes—a madness the likes of which she had only ever before seen on Ar-Pharazon’s face. She struggled against the terror, but deep down, she knew. There was no escape.

 

The maniacal look on the man’s face sharpened, and with careful, agonizing precision, he dragged her saber across her abdomen. Emily screamed. Nothing else was real in the galaxy except for the pain. The man continued, mercilessly slashing her insides to ribbons. Blackness came crashing down, and Emily knew no more.

 

---

Even deep in her subconscious, there was no escape from the agony, although it was of a different sort. She knew. She knew what had been done the moment that horrible man had put a lightsaber to her flesh. Rage as she had never known washed over and through her, burning everything else in its path to cinders. The flame consumed her, feeding itself until nothing remained but ashes. And then those ashes themselves dissolved into dust when she remembered the simple fact that she was absolutely alone. There was no hope for her present, and no hope for her future. All there was was vengeance and rage and this indescribable aching emptiness that would never be filled again.

 

This was the end of all things.

 

---

 

She didn’t want to wake, but she had no choice. She didn’t open her eyes, though. There was no point.

[Raynuk Montar]

The Consort of Quietus was left to languish on the cusp of consciousness for an untraceable number of hours after the medical team had finished closing her wound. She was left with the subtle hum of the medical equipment and stasis generator that kept her heavily medicated and contained as the only reminder that time was indeed still moving.

 

Elsewhere, Zarl continued to follow the guidance given to him by the Master, who had once again seemed to possess the mind and body of the former Jedi Klaro in order to decree it’s omnipresent will.

 

“...then you shall succeed where you failed before; leave no trace of evidence this time Zarl. You will not get a chance to make a third mistake.”

 

Klaro collapsed to the decking as the Master’s Will left him again, the mysterious purple glow fading from his eyes. As he looked up however, he saw that Zarl had already turned to walk away, offering no guidance or insight into what the Master had planned now. It was the first time he had come out of it and not had Zarl’s guidance, and that was something of note. Moments later, the freighter made another jump into hyperspace, another leg in a long, winding series of jumps that had occurred since Coruscant.

 

----------------

 

For the duration of her stay aboard the freighter, the Consort of Quietus never again saw the face of Zarl looking down at her with the mixture of contempt and superiority. In fact, it was a very long time until anyone would even enter the room she was being kept in, and when that moment finally came, it was a pair of cultists, their arrival having been heralded by the lurch that came from exiting hyperspace a few minutes prior. Dressed in the same robes that she had seen on Korriban when Quietus was resurrected, the cultists said nothing as they entered the room, and disconnected all the medical devices. The system that had been dosing her with a steady supply of chemicals to keep her mind clouded was replaced by a single container of the chemicals, good for only a few hours as it slowly was added to her bloodstream. With everything else disconnected, the cultists turned and picked up one of the large crates that now held a ysalamiri, and connected it to the stasis chamber before they began to move the stasis chamber out of the room. They moved her through the ship, down long, silent corridors and passed empty crew quarters. They would see no one else along their path through the ship, a decision made by Zarl.

 

Only when the cultists had moved the Consort of Quietus to one of the outer airlocks did they come across others. Connected to the airlock appeared to be another ship, as another cultist was busy moving a pile of supplies and objects onto it through the airlock. The three cultists did not converse, each continuing to perform their assigned tasks as the consort was moved through the airlock and onto the other, apparently smaller ship. It was a short trip from the airlock to the cargo bay apparently, as a few moments later she was deposited like any other piece of cargo, and the cultists left.

 

The last item brought onboard however, was another humanoid. Or at least, what remained of one. Unceremoniously dragged along the floor and into the cargo bay, was the corpse of Klaro, the former Jedi that had been the one to discover that the Consort was with child. But he was dead now, both of his eyes appearing to have been burnt out by fire, a horrified look still etched onto his face. The cultist dumped the body of Klaro against the wall, and then turned and left, sealing the door behind him, leaving the heavily medicated,Consort of Quietus stuck in a stasis chamber alone in the cargo bay of this new ship with the corpse of Klaro and a ysalamiri that prevented the Force from reaching her.

 

There was silence once again, disturbed only by the shaking of the ship signalling its undocking, and then another shudder as this ship too jumped into hyperspace.

 

---------------

 

Zarl stood on the bridge of the freighter in silence, and watched as the Starwind-class yacht blinked out of view, having made its jump to hyperspace and the Consort’s ultimately final destination. He had done his duty, had performed his role as leader of his group of cultists. The Master had even granted Zarl with a visit, communicating his will directly through Klaro. They had captured the Consort of Quietus, who had painted a target on herself by spreading the existence of the Cult of Morthos to those who were not worthy of the knowledge. That had angered the Masters, but it wasn’t until the news of the Consort’s pregnancy that the Master himself got involved.

 

And then the plans had changed, and despite scrambling slightly and having to pull in the extra effort of Azron and his followers, they had succeeded in removing the presumed child of Quietus from it’s mother. And now he had been instructed to clean up the mission, to remove evidence of the Cult and to keep their involvement anonymous. So why did he feel the twinge of guilt?

 

The Master had taken over Klaro, speaking to Zarl directly.“None who serve you may be permitted to know that the child of Quietus even existed. You will personally eliminate all who may have even heard rumor of the child in passing. I have sent one of my brightest pupils along with a ship to rid us of the consort. He will meet you at your next reroute point to take the next steps.”

 

Zarl had nodded, the thought of sacrificing his group of followers barely even affecting him. That’s what they were all here for, to follow the will and plans of the Master. “It will be done. What of your conduit here? He has practice using the Force, and he may be more difficult to deal with than the others.

 

Klaro’s face twisted against its own control as the Master forced a smile upon the Jedi’s face. “I will sever the loose thread. Then you shall succeed where you failed before; leave no trace of evidence this time Zarl. You will not get a chance to make a third mistake.”

 

Was he feeling guilty for what he had just done? Being told that his followers posed a threat because it was possible they had heard something?

 

Zarl had nodded and turned away to prepare before Klaro was even released by the Master. He had gone to work immediately, his hand gripping around the hilt that he had taken from the Consort even tighter as he moved through the ship. One by one, he isolated those that followed him; some in their sleep, some in dining alone, and some simply in the corridors of the ship. One by one he had gone to them, placed a hand on their shoulder, and told them of their loyalty to the Master, and how they had each been a vital part of their success. One by one he had asked them if they were ready to move forward, to embrace their most difficult, yet rewarding assignments. And one by one, they had agreed, and he had ignited the blade and plunged it into their chests.

 

Klaro had been the last of his followers that Zarl sought out. The former Jedi had retreated to his quarters, and had turned to greet Zarl when the Master struck Klaro down. Immediately, Klaro’s eyes flared up with the purple glow that signified the Master’s presence, but the glow did not stop intensifying. It turned from a glow to a fire, and that fire continued to grow in intensity until Klaro’s mind registered that his eyes were literally on fire.

 

The former Jedi began screaming as his eyes were burnt from his face, the all consuming fire of the Master refusing to even allow blood to escape it’s wrath. It took only a few seconds for the purple fire to ravage where Klaro’s eyes had once been and to burn through his skull. The former Jedi slumped to the ground dead, and only then did the purple fire begin to burn itself out. By the time Zarl composed himself to leave, the last hints of the Master’s wrath faded into smoke from Klaro’s eye sockets.

 

Now Zarl stood on the bridge, alone.The bodies of all but two of his followers scattered all over the freighter, while he stood there in silence. He had followed his orders; he had killed his followers who had served him and the Masters loyally and without question. Klaro had received one final touch from the Master, and perhaps had suffered the worst death of them all. There was not much time to dwell on his actions however. The two remaining followers, those that had moved the Consort to the yacht, entered the bridge and looked around. Zarl turned to see that they were both surprised to find the bridge empty, but neither spoke of it.

 

“Ah, there you are… The Master has spoken to me again. Are you two prepared to move forward? To embrace the most difficult assignment yet?”

[ObliviousKnight]

Years passed.

 

For days, months, years, eons, Armiena’s spirit, a stranger in the strange land between life and death. Draygo remembered being surrounded by hate and darkness, feeling a chill as cold as the deepest pits of Hades creeping around her as Faust summoned yet another of his repulsive sorceries. After that, the white noise in the Force gave way to silence; the murk of Kashyyyk’s Shadowlands dissipated into utter nothingness… and yet, awareness remained. For a very long time, the veteran Jedi suspected that she had perished and she was experiencing some astoundingly dull aspect of the hereafter, that her biometrics had somehow been removed from the Jedi cloning archives and all she had to look forward to for eternity was this dull, restless silence.

 

Decades ago, when her mother had “died” to protect her family from the Empire’s inquisition, some friends and family had sought to comfort the grieving child by assuring her that the afterlife was a place of rightfully-earned repose for the deceased. Even at the time, Armiena hadn’t quite accepted their condolences--and why would she have? She was a confused child so struck with grief that she was having difficulty even speaking. But now, if what lay beyond existence was this restless sleep, then Armiena found it quite overrated.

 

Such was the first eon.

 

The years spent in silence, beyond sight, beyond any sensory input, beyond existence, gave Draygo more time to reflect on her life than any thinking salient should have available. Years ago, Armiena remembered her confrontation with the thoroughly deranged Emperor Jidai Geki on his flagship in orbit above Csilla. It was an Executor-class Star Destroyer--Armiena couldn't even recall the name of the vessel, it had been so long ago--that the Jedi Master had infiltrated with the assistance of a unit of shock troopers from the Rebellion. Between the frenzied firefight towards the ship's bridge and the intervention of the lunatic monarch, the squad has all perished, but it has not been vain; the Emperor was felled by her own hand, and upon realizing that their deranged overlord was dead with no mark of injury beyond a few slashes that found nothing more than cloth and the bloodstains on Armiena's hands, the bridge crew has surrendered without a fight.

 

Draygo had mocked the psychotic Emperor even as the crimson flowed down her hands and she struggled to lower the Sith’s fading bulk to the deckplates. As she watched the life leave his eyes, Armiena had sworn to him that she was going to find a way to end the war. It seemed like an appropriate taunt to a dying Emperor at the time.

 

And then, just before going on to win that battle, the victor had collected a blood sample which proved to be quite interesting. She couldn't remember exactly what the battle had been fought over, however; Csilla had aligned itself with the Imperials later in the war.

 

That single battle was an apt summation of Armiena’s experiences throughout the entire war: and endless cycle of escalations, sacrificing her own humanity and the life that she could have lived into the inferno that consumed the galaxy, but to no avail. She’d weaponized her own body and mind, acting as host to a slew of implants that would never let her rest without being informed of the most recent crisis and flashpoints. She’d weaponized politics, helping to transform the Rebellion from a loose coalition of resisting states into a cohesive state that could claim lineage to the Republic; that government now teetered on the brink of shaking itself to pieces. Draygo had even weaponized charity by launching the Survivor’s Foundation; it had helped repair the devastation to several of the Republic’s worlds, but even that had its purpose in escalating the war. Mon Calamari had recovered astonishingly quickly from the destruction of its shipyards, allowing the Calamari to contribute to the war effort once again.

 

And her time as Grandmaster… Draygo had managed to cajole Starlisk into adopting a training plan that she had hoped would leave the Republic's marines better prepared for the final climactic battles of the war. With that came the addition of the battle droids she had designed to support the outmatched soldiers on the ground. Perhaps it had been successful, but the Talon program and the Wolf Spiders had been tremendously expensive and threatened to bankrupt the Republic… and several of their officers proved to be monsters and destroyed any right that the Republic had to the moral high ground at Coruscant and other battles.

 

Meanwhile, the sacrifices continued. Armiena had given up any realistic chance of a peaceful future, locked into either service to the Jedi Order or persecution by the Empire. She’d given up her husband; Aryian was perpetually on assignment for the Order’s dirty tricks team or private errand that his wife had never learned about. She’d even given up her son; shortly after his toddlerhood, Aidan had been raised almost exclusively by his grandmother. The war required her immediate attention, and in returning to that role, Armiena had become the archetype of a Jedi that she despised: one without attachments to family, friends, or even society. It was an unhappy existence.

 

If Armiena could have gone back decades ago, before she ascended to the rank of Jedi Grandmaster, before becoming a Jedi Knight, before even beginning her search for the half-defunct sect that was said to be lurking in the seldom-visited sectors of the galaxy, then she would have. Draygo would have chosen the simple, dull life of a traveling merchant, looking after only herself and whatever companions she chose and allowing the galaxy to work its way through the convulsions and agonies of the Civil War. She would have chosen that selfish and unimportant path, poring over over shipping manifests and market fluctuations, rather than meditating, training, and agonizing in the exalted halls of the self-identified protectors of the galaxy. It would have been a meaningless life, certainly an anonymous existence, but it would have been a happy life, and a clean one, one where she never would have dipped her fingers in the unfathomable rivers of blood flowing from the civil war.

 

And what had she accomplished with this miserable, atrocity-filled existence? Perhaps a few billion insignificant sapient creatures were still alive, many of whom never realized their danger and would never strive to make the most of the gift of life. Undoubtedly a few billion had also confronted their mortality cursing the fact that Grandmaster Draygo had ever been conceived, realizing their imminent peril and that their doom had been wrought by the Republic and the Jedi Order. After decades of fighting and bleeding and killing in the name of the Jedi Order and the dream of the Republic, the death toll mounted beyond the ability of the human imagination to grasp. The mountains of the dead grew beyond reckoning. Whether or not the life and trials of Armiena Draygo had been of any benefit to the galaxy, whether she was the galaxy’s savior or the vampire that nearly bled it white, was beyond the ability of any mortal to determine.

 

Regardless of her battles, the lives she had spent, the blood she had shed, the war continued on. Perhaps the Republic and the Empire had signed their armistice and would be at peace for a short time, but the true struggle between the cults of the Jedi and the Sith was still being fought and would continue to waste the lives of uncounted billions. In the end, Armiena Draygo was left with a terrible conclusion that few mortals would have the misfortune to face, to have their ego shattered, and to reflect upon it… forever.

 

In the end, Armiena hadn’t ended the war. She had escalated it, perpetuated it and allowed it to devour the lives of her generation and the next. Perhaps it was never in her power to end the war.

 

In the end, everything had been for naught.

 

In the end, Vladimir Faust had been right.

[Sandy Sarna]

As the long hours ticked down between their microjumps, Sandy sat. Quiet and meditating off and on, analysing the back and forth of her last duel with her master. The blood spikes had been too much, especially for such a friendly bout, but they would come in useful the next time she faced down monsters like on Thalassia. She let herself imagine a large blood spike piercing the head of that Togorian slaver and a grin spread across her face. Next time. She bolted awake as the alarm rang for the 10 second countdown and looked at her master as she slowly depressed the lever, pulling them into realspace on the edge of the Lesser Lantillian Route, which would swiftly bring them to the planet Onderon. It had already been ten hours aboard ships, but with meditation to calm tired muscles she didn’t feel all that bad. But she worried about what they would find on Onderon, they would likely be far too late.

 

She looked at her master who was awake and looking at her, “What do you think we will find there master?”

[Tobias Vos]

Vos took the travel time as a chance to sleep. His body and mind have been racing ever since the trip to Carida. Still, he felt exhausted and drained. It was a state of utter desolation, but there was a fierce determination that was held behind his eyes. Neither of them went back into the ship too much, per the ysalamir cone in the back end of the ship. So here they remained, nervous to sever the connection to the Force. With a racing mind, Vos didn't want interruptions like that to interfere. He passed the time restructuring the Peregrine Order into the Twilight Sect. That actually spoke of a few shadows, which he was the head of that inner-order. Previous Jedi Shadows loathed the dark side, but Vos did dabble in it. Basing off the teachings of the Potentium Order, however, it was the intent that brought him into a different sort of understanding of the Force. Midichlorians, lightsabers, telekinesis, all those traits didn't determine the power one held. They were all just present as the student was taught how to wield such powers. More of his thoughts entered his Datapad, but mostly he just tumbled them in his brain. Solitude was a secondary habit of Tobias. Often he would find himself alone for weeks on end, but now he was with Sandy, and he did have a duty to train her and mold her brain to be ready for the future.

 

The Future... he thought, as Sabatin's laugh echoed through his thoughts. Biting his lip, he shook the memories away, and just in time. Sandy spoke...

 

Taking a moment, he mulled over what he wanted to say. "Well..." He sighed and let his chair lean back a few notches in the position. "I do not know with absolute certainty... but what I do know is that we will find some sort of trouble. If Kirlocca was right... " Vos drifted off, letting the words be affected by the gravity of the situation. What had Grand Admiral Thrawn once said? Something important that was't coming to mind right now. Giving up, he move on. His mouth hung open for a moment, before continuing. The tone was vague, but confident. "If Kirlocca was right, then I have no doubt we will find some sort of trouble to get into. Good thing we have those lizards in the back, interesting even..." He scratched his scruffy chin in thought as his gaze drifted from the controls to the modeling of hyperspace in front of them. "Regardless, I've sent for back up, as well as other Jedi to join us. But given the... detached way we have been operating, and our network of friends and allies is slim. An important lesson to learn is that even though the Ysalamir push the Force from around it away from themselves, an object flung into the bubble still will carry momentum, so do not rely solely on the lizards to save you. Faust is unlike anything I've ever seen, but there are still greater dangers on the horizon."

 

Absently, he looked at his chrono... and mumbled just loud enough for the young girl to hear him... "...which should be in just two standard months." He sighed and checked the radar. Pointing out the window- there were two corvettes who were maneuvering into parallel vectors. "I've pulled my ships in to help with this mission. Those two are friendlies, with more on the way."

 

 

"Your thoughts are always welcome, my intelligent apprentice." Vos opened, for feedback.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy’s slim fingers brushed the battered silver hilt that hung on her belt alongside the medical kit on her right side. They were less than an hour out from their destination and the fleet was beginning to assemble. JSS Griphook materialized against the harsh starlight of the Galactic Core. Its large corvette design and jet black paintjob left it a dark outline against that mass of stars. She was the last of the ships of the scattered Jedi Fleet that would be joining them on the final leg of the journey. Sandy felt a slight tremor of nerves race down her spine as the joint task force began its approach vector to the green jewel of Japrael. Onderon. The Planet and its twin moon Dxun were close enough in orbit that it was said that you could even take an airspeeder from on to the other. Sandy doubted any of the claims that she had read back on Gala about galactic voyages. Right now it had mostly been sitting and flying a shuttle while her master worked his secret shady adventures. The secrecy of it all left her wanting to burst in frustration. When she spoke the scars on her face and arms glared red as they filled with an embarrassed blush. A faint hand print appearing in her scalp line, and long jagged scars across the rest of her pale, freckled body. She tried to reign in the frustration but she knew it leaked through.

 

“I hate this secrecy we carry Master, It cannot be good. If what we are doing is right and good we need not carry it in secret, secrets lead to the darkside…” She could hear Adennas voice in her own, filled with righteous indignation … “Why do you operate outside the purview of the Jedi Council?” She hoped that he would not be mad at the question.

 

She cleared her throat as the stars stretched into lines, “If we find Faust, we might need more than a few jedi corvettes…”

[Tobias Vos]

Vos leaned forward to see the Griphook. "By the stars, she's beautiful!!" Vos exclaimed, obviously excited. His face was like a child- as he store out into the black the vague silhouette barely visible. A while back he had procured a dozen corvettes- the c70 variety as well as the later CR90 varieties. The first two ships were of the former, while the Griphook was the latter. But it looked as if it had a cancerous growth strapped atop it- a dome appeared over it- fastened by way of welding droids. Vos and the crew were the only one who knew what that growth was. Silently, Tobias regained his composure- "Can you pinpoint where Master Organa is? Though the communications array, or through the Force? Take us in."

 

Vos looked around, to no other shadows lurking- the Griphook was stealtly falling into a flanking position as the two other corvettes paved the way, with the two Jedi nestled in the center. An escort pattern by the looks of it, but ready to fall into battle ready position at the first hint of trouble. The crews of the Jedi Ships signaled battle ready- but they were still unsure of what their task was. The sensors scanned the area- but only really noticing the Griphook's massive power build up as if something was requiring the energy.

 

As they moved as one, Vos punched away on the datapad. "I do as well, I had intended on putting on a false front to what we were up to- but since Master Kirlocca has decided otherwise, we will now have to operate in the shadows. We are the Jedi Shadows, or at least I am, you have yet to decide on your own fate Miss Sarna." There was a playful tone about him there for a moment. "If we are to prepare for people such as Faust, Emperor Deton, and any other of those calibers, monsters- brilliant and devestating, the Jedi should be pro-active, not reactive. Some would say that is not the Jedi way, some would say that is more in line with a Sith way of thinking. Myself, and people like Adenna, grow tired of the senseless chaos that surrounds us. Secrets can be our downfall, which is why I sought out Adenna, so that she could keep me in check. She's gone, and teaching you has come unto my responsibilities. I must watch after us both, and the galaxy. I..." he caught himself, involuntarily choking on the words he was about to say. I have to make Adenna proud of what I am doing, what we are doing. "I have to get the galaxy ready- even if they are just relearning how to trust the Jedi, and while it does seem wrong- it must be this way."

 

He turned, waiting for Sandy to look at him. "i promise, I will show you what we're up against after we deal with Faust."

 

Vos turned back and called over the comm after a quick survey of their positions. "Verdict, Promise, angle so that we keep the planet on our starboard side, Griphook, follow suit. Have that equipment ready to go." The other ships acknowledged, and subtly adjusted their courses. It was as if Griphook was exposed, but no one knew it was a simple and easy ruse.

 

"Don't let your frustration get to you, I apologize if it seems I am ignoring you. I am not- I leave you to your thoughts, and you express them when you need to." Vos showed the datapad to her- it was a very simple message. 'CS on standby- waiting for GH positioning and order.'

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy’s eyes narrowed until they were emerald slits.

 

“The Jedi Council is being proactive master, we are out here trying to save one of its masters, Skye Organa, we should be boldly and aggressively working with them.” Her face flushed a bit more, the hand shaped scar along her scalp darkened with a flash of irritation. “You didn’t answer my question Master, I asked why we are acting in the shadows. Grand Master Kirlocca is actively working against the Sith by helping the Remnant, why do we not work with him?”

 

She frowned at his mention of the old Imperial Emperor, a man that the current Imp head of state had served under, but one that she was nothing like. “Don’t leave me to my thoughts master, that's not a healthy relationship.” She laughed softly as she depressed the hyperspace lever and sent them on their final leg of their journey, the Jedi Ships following. As the stars turned into the swirling mass of hyperspace she shrugged. "I guess we will talk about it later then..."

[Tobias Vos]

Vos clenched his jaw, the muscles flexing under his skin. "My apologies, perhaps we view this differently? Are we not here under Kirloccas orders? To make our actions public would draw attention to us, and to our constituents. Certain people may not like it. We would invite conflict instead of inviting commerce and trade. What would you do if you were in my shoes? Attach the Jedi to *one* faction in order to help *one* factions people's, or remain our own entity, and help everyone we can- forming a bond with a variety of factions?"

 

His tone was not mocking nor belittling, he was intent to hear the constructive criticism she had to offer.

 

(Crappy cell phone post)

[AVATAR Kain]

Kain's ship and the rest of his forces pulled out of Hyperspace at the predetermined coordinates, awaiting link up with Delta's ships.

 

((Edit: fleet forces include 24 Tie Defenders, 24 Tie Interdictors, and 24 K-wings. Loadouts for the latter two can be found below:

 

 

The Tie Interdictors are loaded with six plasma torpedoes, six homing missiles, and the standard sixteen proton bombs each, which wasn't even taking into account the standard laser cannons they were designed with.

 

Armament loadout for the K-Wings is four plasma torpedos, two diamond boron missiles, six homing missiles, and four chain-linked slugthrowers with 1,200 armor-piercing rounds total between them, as well as two discord missiles. The buzz droids in these missiles were painted matte black and designed to be near invisible in spacial combat until it was too late to realize you were in a field full of them. They were equipped with a small IFF receiver, allowing them to easily distinguish between friendly ships and hostile ones. Otherwise, their function practically remained the same, using maglocks to latch onto enemy craft, particularly starfighters, and shred them to pieces.

))

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy shrugged her shoulder, admitting defeat. “I don’t know master, I was referring to all these secret people like the Chiss and Catnip that you work with, I know you aren’t disobeying orders from Kirlocca, I just am scared I guess.” She flushed again from embarrassment at the admittal. He wiped her brow with the back of her sleeve and watched the hyperspace countdown on their shuttle’s readout. They were not long out now. She could feel the icy fear of apprehension snaking up her spine and she tapped into the force to calm it down. She reached out her hand and touched the Kiffar’s upper arm.

“Sorry for doubting you master, I shouldn’t do that.”

 

She sighed deeply and shook her head, the pale blonde hair whipped back and forth behind her back and she reached for the hyperspace lever.

[Tobias Vos]

"Nonsense. When and if you have doubts, speak to me about them. I agree, as well this...secrecy is not the most beneficial thing to us- as an Order of Jedi, but I think there are some hidden strings that need pulled, for the benefit of the galaxy. Do not let your emotions dictate you, and do not ignore them. Listen to them, listen to the Jedi Code, listen to yourself as well. You are a brilliant young woman, don't let anyone tell you otherwise. Always speak your mind."

 

Tobias patted her hand on his arm, and watched it return to its owner and to the console of the ship. "Anything else on your mind?" A sly smile came to his lips, pleased that she was asking questions- voicing her concerns.

[Delta73]

The Assembled Black Sun fleet emerged from hyperspace at the prior predesignated coordinates between the AVATAR KAIN and Delta73. Delta sat on the bridge of the Marie his normal crew was assembled at battle stations, and the two hundred marines on board were positioned against boarding operations around the ship. He sat in his mandalorian armour, counting the minutes down until the rest of the party would arrive.

 

Assembled under Delta were:

 

30 Cloakshape Fighters

20 Scimitar Assault Bombers

12 Rebuilt ARC fighterbombers

 

The Marie: CR-90 Corvette. Modified

Three Dual Turbolaser Batteries

Four Single Turbolaser Turrets

Two Boarding pods with 25 space marines each.

 

The St. Cathryne: MC-30c Frigate

Two Heavy Proton Torpedo Launches

Sixteen Dual Medium Turbolaser turrets

Sixteen Twin Laser Cannon turrets

6 cluster bomb launcher

[Sheog the Mad]

The Demented Madness pulled out of hyperspace at the predetermined coordinates designated by KAIN and Delta. As the ebony exterior of the assault yacht glittered in the reflected starlight, the Master of the Krath let the Force flow through his shattered mind. He could feel every weapons system within his sphere of influence, each in their place, their triggers and AI crying out for destruction within his mind. The assault squads were ready, and he could feel their nervousness and the churning of their anger.

 

The Hutt triggered his comlink to signal the fleet of his arrival, and activated the holodatabase of the ship. It would allow Ailbasí Zirtani the access to all Sith archival data, as well as any stories of The Sith she desired.

 

<

[AVATAR Kain]

Kain quickly docked with the St. Cathryne, arriving at the bridge in little time at all. The pieces were in motion, and every player at their place. Command was clearly established between the starfighter wings, with Delta commanding his ship and the Tie Defenders as well as 8 of the K-wings, 8 of the Tie Interdictors, and 5 of the Assault Bombers. Kain took command of the remainder of the fleet for the time being. Slaving all ships together, the battlegroup jumped into hyperspace, destined for Onderon.

[Tobias Vos]

Tobias smiled as Sandy formulated her thoughts, but there was this pressure growing in the back of Tobias's mind. A proximity alert came from the dash signalling that they were getting close to their exit point at the edge of the system. "I suppose we should pick this conversation up after we're done here. If the Orbital data we have is up to date, we'll come out on the far side of Onderon- Dxun- a moon, will be just rotating away from us, so if luck would have it we would pull out of hyperspace with Dxun between us and if anyone is watching for Faust. I've never met either Faust nor Skye, I hope this doesn't blow up in our faces. Or that it's a trap. Or that it is not just a false alarm, or whatever. Whatever we're walking into, be sure to clear your mind of everything else- and focus on what we're about to get into. Faust is a devious one, and we must be on our toes. Whenever you want to- take us in." Vos motioned to the hyperspace lever, but went back to his datapad- and putting in a commlink to his ear. Tuning it to a specific encrypt channel he had the unusual PIT droids program and develop. Something about their behavior programming and how overlooked PIT droids all together that made them... covert, or something similar.

 

Clearing his throat, Vos looked down to look over the numbers one last time. He hadn't anticipated this scenario happening so soon, and these weren't the number he would have gone with, but these were small ships- relying more on their shields as well as their maneuverability. They were fitted for more combat than passengers, although they still could haul quite a bit of cargo. That still left them with the layout to press more for weapons- than passengers.

 

Griphook- Charger c70 Retrofit- Colored black with a strip of blue. Has a large “Turtleshell” holds two Gravity Well projectors. (x2) Twin-turbo lasers turrets (x6) point defense cannons

 

Verdict- CR90 Corvette. (x2) Dual Turbolaster Turrets, (x4) Single Turbolasters, (x2) Proton Torpedo Launchers.

 

Promise- CR90 Corvette (x4) Single Turbolasters, (x4) Ion Cannons, (x1) Proton Torpedo Launcher, (x2) Concussion Missile Launchers.

 

Catnip Station-

20 Dual-Turbolasers

15 Ion Cannon Batteries

8 Proton torpedo launchers

4 Ballistic missile launchers- varying payloads.

Hyperdrive capabilities.

Dual Shield generators- one that encompassed the whole station- rings included- then the backup which housed the spire.

Tractor beam capabilities

4 hangers to handle shuttles and transports.

Airlocks for bigger ships- settled on two orbital rings that is connected via hallways to the main station spire.

1 Laser gattling around each hanger for point defense. (4)

Bubble layer of armor in places- a bit like a Mon Cal cruiser- meant to there is a gap in between that and the real armor.

64 Levels and bulkheads to spare.

State of the art fire suppression system.

[Exodus]

Lord Exodus was a Machiavellian destroyer from the same vein of Sith that walked as Gods in the Golden Era, and he had come at last. The Dark Lord embraced the notion for war and engaged with the information that poured through the Lightbreaker, his forces were primed. He neared the original rendezvous point and the navigational system marked where their exit from hyperspace was, yet his vessel continued on a jump that would land him at their next destination. At long last, he would bear witness to a combined strength of his men and his monsters, despite only a handful of them arriving for this extraction. Onderon would experience a gravity of the Sith so fierce, that their lands would puncture to the core and their people would surrender to their every desire. If there were any who would defy their advance, blood would be the price to pay.

 

 

 

• [To Onderon]

[ObliviousKnight]

Alone and in the darkness, Armiena felt a crushing weight pressing down on her chest that settled unevenly over her entire body. A horrid, sickly smell, but nonetheless familiar to her, permeated what little air she could feel on her face and she felt a warm, sticky liquid dripping onto her face. Her mind racing from claustrophobia, she struggled to move, but found herself unable to lift her arms or legs, shift her weight, or even breathe! Never mind that, the former Jedi reminded herself; she had the help of the Force and whatever mass this burden possessed meant little. Heaving with a telekinetic push, Armiena shoved the great mass off of her breast, at first just a few millimeters to get the air to her burning lungs.

 

With that first deep breath, she instantly recognized the stench: it was that of dozens of dead bodies of unidentified species in the darkness, having left to decay in the height of a hot day. Tasting bile, Armiena gagged and turned her head to one side. If this was going to be her end, at least she wouldn’t die by drowning in her own vomit.

 

Throat clenching, the former Jedi forced herself to take another few painful breaths before the next telekinetic lift. Again, she gradually strained the heavy load off of her chest. Gradually, the sisyphean mass rose and rays of sunlight began to peer through through the layers of debris… then Armiena realized, from the tangled shapes gradually becoming clearer in the meager light, that she had been buried under the combined weight of scores, possibly hundreds of dead bodies and the trail of gravel trickling over her was that of the lifeless limbs drooping helplessly from under their owners’ bodies as she lifted them off of her. Shapes and faces gradually became clear; the owners of the bodies were of all species and sexes: Rodians, Twi’leks, Humans, Sullustans, Bothans, even a few of the more uncommon species including Miraluka and Zeltrons.

 

Draygo paused for another second, forcing another breath of the foul air into her lungs as she held the macabre weight steady above her. Now she shifted the tangle of dead bodies forward and tried to not focus on the myriad species and sexes that become evident in the morning light. Seeing that the pile of the deceased was now clear of her body, let go of the horrible weight… and half of them disappeared from sight, falling helplessly into what appeared to be a great pit that surrounded her. Armiena vaguely heard a number of impacts as the corpses hit the ground, and she felt the ground shift under her back.

 

It was time to find out what abattoir she had woken up to. Armiena rose to her feet, realizing with horror as her feet slipped and stumbled, that she had been buried on top of an unfathomably tall pillar of flesh; more dead bodies of myriad species were tangled with each other, some staring up at her with lifeless eyes, others face-down in the bloody mire. The former Grandmaster clambered over their forms, whispering a quiet apology as she picked her way over the slope of flesh that she had formed in her attempt to free herself.

 

Her eyes clearing the top of the slope, her hand paused on the torso of a Bothan in Jedi robes and she tensed, realizing where she was. A clear grey sky was beginning to brighten as a red sun rose in what would have been a glorious sunrise. Specks of stars and brighter shapes--satellites, ships, and skyhooks, she realized--blazed in the lightening sky, gradually fading as the sun began to peek over the horizon. Gargantuan towers and spires menaced in the distance, some overshadowing even the she had been buried in. Armiena was on Coruscant, but the entire planet had been transformed into an abattoir of the design of the most perverse madman. Looking closer at the pillars in the distance, Armiena tensed in horror as she realized that all of them had been built of the same piles of flesh--and that many of them were crumbling, literally falling to pieces and bodies began to tumble from their sides.

 

She felt the floor of bodies shudder under her feet. Thoughts of escape crossed her mind, but they quickly passed as she realized that none of this--the pillars of flesh, the rank odor in the air, the foundations of the dead and the ships and satellites gleaming idly in the sky--was real.

 

The wall of the dead that she had climbed over suddenly gave way. A yelp escaping her lips, Armiena tumbled over the side, joining a mass of bodies on an endless descent to the foundation of the dead. Her right wrist shot out, but she realized that the metal cladding of her armor was no longer protecting her and she would not be saved by a desperate gamble with its liquid-cable harpoon. Searching madly for any escape as she tumbled over in gravity’s grasp, Armiena reached out into the open air--and another arm reached out and caught her.

 

Pain exploded from a dislocated shoulder, but Armiena was caught--at least for the moment--in the surprisingly firm grasp of a large hand with light brown fur. The Alderaanian looked around wildly, following the trace of the furred arm into the walls of the decaying tower--and looked into the face of her Caamasi master. Kamsie’s body, wedged between the masses of bodies, had reached out to catch his former student, the sinewy muscles in his arm straining to lift Armiena reach with his outstretched arm. His green eyes, normally alight with humor and wisdom, were clouded over and lifeless as he looked over his former Padawan. Armiena searched his expression any sign of life, but there was nothing in his gaze--the Caamasi’s expression wasn’t angry, or peaceful, or horrified….

 

Just… disappointed.

 

And then he let her go. This time screaming for her Master’s help, Armiena fell into the shadows of the crumbling cityscape, unaware of a high-pitched whirring in the background and a peculiar vibration against her face…

 

________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________

 

Again, Armiena found herself in the darkness, her form constricted by a great, impenetrable weight that prevented her from even turning her head or even breathing. That high-pitched whirring was growing louder and the vibrations were strengthening--and the burning in her lungs was becoming more urgent as the prison she was encased in prevented her from drawing breath. However, the former Grandmaster was acutely aware that she was not alone--Armiena could barely make out the shapes of sapient beings, probably Humans or a closely-related species--though she couldn’t discern their Force presence.

 

Was it the presence of an ysalamir that had broken her free of the illusion?

 

Then there was a pause in the whirring, and alarmed voices began shouting and the shapes moved with urgency. The burning in her lungs, however, grew more fierce and Armiena began seizing, struggling fruitlessly to draw breath. Then the mechanical whirring restarted and something in her prison broke loose--she would feel the blessed air against her face, and she greedily drew a few grateful breaths. Without warning, however, a plastic hose poked through the meager hole that had been drilled into Faust’s conjured encasement, and starving for air, she didn’t even question its purpose, breathing from the current flowing from it.

 

The Alderaanian immediately felt the life leave her limbs. There was breathable air flowing from the hose, but also a sedative that quickly plunged her into darkness. Before unconsciousness took her, Armiena vaguely heard a familiar voice on the other side of the wall speak:

 

“Make sure that she never wakes up. If she does, she will probably kill us all.”

[Drilcea]

Silence. What met the threats, the demands, was complete and utter silence. She glared, she complied, she sat…and she schemed. The outward calm, the facade, hid the inner turmoil that was her thoughts. She studied this thief on her ship - the way she talked and moved - and the weapon poised to kill her at any moment, her mind whirling.

 

Who was she? What was she? How did she have such a weapon? Who was she working for, if not herself? Was it coincidence that she collided with me before stealing my ship, or was this all planned? How did she get past the drones? Was she Sith? Would she be willing to teach? Would I be willing to learn from her? How do I get my ship back? Will she simply kill me because she can?

 

All these questions and more appeared and flit away to make room for the next. So distracted she was that he barely had the awareness to register she’d been asked a question. She took a few moments to filter through her thoughts, to find the question best used in answer, and kept the facade of calm malice plastered on her face.

 

“What destination does my ship have in store?” she replied to her captor - was she the one captured along with her ship now? She very slowly, carefully, deliberately tilted her head to the side. She had filled her voice with honey attempting to disarm them, giving them nothing but a vision of obedience.

 

“Your mind flutters like a mynok on caf. My intentions are my own. My mission is my own and my purpose is my own.” Keenava said, seeing and feeling the tumult of thoughts and emotions that clashed violently in the robed individual's mind. “All you may know right now, is that this ship is headed to Nal Hutta. And, I am a Sith Lord.”

 

Reticence cowed her to silence before she revealed her name. Names had power and there was no reason this individual needed to know that bit of information. But her own etiquette demanded that some level of introduction be given.

Drilcea’s nose wrinkled in a sneer as she blurted, “That deplorable swamp? Why would anyone want to go there?”

 

The words were out before she could process anything else, and, once the other’s words sunk in, her eyes snapped up to that concealed face. She tried to conceal her thoughts, form a wall of sorts around to block them, but was unsure if in doing so it would help any. Sith Lord echoed in her mind. She’d set out to find one and there was one right in front of her. She wasn’t sure if she was impressed or disappointed by what was in front of her.

 

“Better. Though, you'll find, I'm a bit harder to get rid of than you think.” Keenava smiled dangerously through the leather veil of her hood. “Yes, a Sith. Whether I impress you or not is irrelevant. That is not my role. Did you expect all of us to perpetually scorn, wield lethally garish weapons and wear gleaming armor?” Keenava gave a short mirthless laugh before narrowing her eyes at the woman on the floor.

 

“All of that aside, what business do you have with the Sith?” Her tone was caustic and mercurial, but her stance and position didn't change. The crimson blade echoed the crimson of her shrouded eyes, leaving little doubt to the threat she presented.

 

“I’m searching for a teacher. I wish to learn the ways of the Dark Side of the Force,” she confessed. If they were already in her head, it was no use hiding it. She straightened her posture and tilted her head up - the way she’d always been brought up to convey herself. She stared into the face of her near-murderer, eyes void of fear and in them only challenge.

 

“If all were as you described, I wouldn’t have had to look for so long, would I? I’d walk down the street, or spot you from a mile away. No matter, those particular skill sets going along with those types are not the skills in which I wish to learn.” Her desires laid bare, she sat in stony silence. She watched, waiting to find out if she’d make it to their destination or never make it to another planet again.

[Keenava Dira]

The woman’s tone and demeanor suggested that she was talking about a night on the town. Her haughty posture hinted at an upbringing of entitlement and straight lace. Keenava’s nose wrinkled in cruel disdain and a small fire smoldered in the ruby of her eyes. “You WISH to learn the dark side of the Force?” Keenava said, handling every word as if it were covered in slime.

 

“What do you think this is, a pleasure cruise?” The Twi’lek was inches away from striking the woman but decided to save the strength in her hand. Her hostage might not listen. The gesture would be wasted. But, the Twi’lek did not raise her voice. She did not lose her temper. Keenava’s words were measured and intense. “I didn’t WANT to be a Sith. In fact, I hesitate to say that there are those that WANT to be a Sith when they start their journey. That isn’t accounting for the legitimately unstable few out there that accept blindly. There is always a reason that one becomes a Sith. And, once the Dark Side holds you, there is no going back. Once you mold yourself to be something you aren’t, you can’t go back. Every night is a nightmare. Every moment is chaos. The Dark Side calls and you answer or it haunts you until your dying day.”

 

Keenava fought the temptation to pace and resolved instead to stare. She resolved not to move and let her disdain simmer with the distance between them. “And, if you have the misfortune of becoming a killer, like me, every person is a target. Every room is broken into escape routes and every conversation is drawn to physical and mental weaknesses. You can’t form attachments because one day you might have to kill them. You draw pleasure from physical excellence and the feel of steel as it rents through flesh. If you WANT that, then why? WHY are you bringing yourself to murderers and thieves? We are the lost and forgotten who forged a path through the ash of our destroyed potential.”

 

Followed by the ghosts of her own happiness, Keenava emphatically pushed each syllable until her sentence stopped. Silence reigned in the ship that even the hum of the engines couldn’t pierce. It was a few moments before Keenava spoke again.

 

“If you can tell me why - If you can SHOW me why - then I will train you myself,” Keenava whispered.

[Xae-Lin Ardel]

As the commandeered Lambda-class shuttle hurtled through hyperspace, the Jedi Knight within weighed the situation that had recalled her from her task on Raxus Prime.

 

Faust (or someone eerily close to him) was back in the galaxy at large if Master Organa’s comm was to be believed. The thought alone was enough to chill her, yet at the same time, it exhilarated the Exorcist. Il-Andon had kept her in limbo long enough to train her in his ways, past the point where she should have died in the attack on Gala. Perhaps it was for this purpose, this cause.

 

Expanding her senses into the Force and beyond, there was much that was still clouded and an equal amount that shifted like grains of sand between her grasping fingers.

 

Patience, the familiar voice of her unorthodox instructor intoned through the echoes of the Force. You are not alone. You are Jedi. Together you are one with the Force and it is one with you. Draw from that strength.

 

Letting out a breath she hadn’t realized she’d been holding, Xae opened her blue-green eyes and looked down at the two weapons before her.

 

The two could not be any more different from one another, yet still, somehow the two parts were whole, echoes of their creator, who’d forwarded the Jedi Healer’s message to her comm in the first place.

 

One was bronze plated, with a meandering gold filigree that wound its way around a slight divot just below the emitter matrix, the grip bound in a supple cognac-colored leather. Reaching out, but not physically touching the weapon, Xae levitated the hilt in front of her feeling the attunement to the weapon Jaina had forged for her. The aquamarine blade snapped to life and hummed insistently in the air as the Jedi Knight turned to the other weapon before her.

 

This one had given her pause at first, feeling a bit unnatural with its four prongs that flanked the emitter that produced a slightly different balance than she was used to. There was a certain weightiness to it in the Force as well that had lead her to train with it extensively while on Raxus over the last two months. There was a warrior’s strength contained within the lightsaber, one that she would need to tap into as much as her Guardian training. As a Jedi, she’d known only war and had chosen the path of the Guardian in order to protect those that couldn’t defend themselves.

 

A molten red-orange blade erupted from the emitter when she repeated the same gesture in her meditations with the two weapons within the Force. Things were still cloudy, but Il-Andon’s advice reminded her that everything good in this galaxy was because people chose to remember they weren’t alone out there.

 

With a wave of her hand, both lightsabers retracted into their hilts and into her open palms. Affixing them to her belt, she rose and returned to the forward area and the helm of the transport shuttle and accessed the comm station for the messages to be sent at the next recalculation nav point on her journey to Onderon.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy slowly slid down in her seat as the first microjump ticked down, the fright of the Sith armada had passed but now had left her feeling utterly defeated. The CoreSec forces and Jedi Master Skye were no completely at the mercy of the Sith, and knowing their reputation they would probably end up executed on the holonet. She had never met Skye Organa, but she had seen her at a distance at the Galan academy back when she was still a child. The idea of her at the mercy of Faust and the Sith Lords made her feel like breaking down in tears. She breathed deeply a few times and frustratedly wiped the welling tears from her eyes. It wasn’t Vos’s fault that they had to retreat, there was no reason to commit a thousand people to death in the sucking void of space to rescue one jedi master. This wasn’t Geonosis. Yet it felt utterly defeating. As the stars whipped by in rapid succession she brought her arms around her knees and pulled them up to her face, resting the soles of her boots on the firm jumpseat. She buried her eye sockets against her knees and was glad that she was in the seat behind her master so he couldn’t see her tears. It was so frustrating to have failed the first mission they had been sent on as a team.

 

Don’t get down like that, we will get through this. The voice, while it was internal was assuredly from the past, after Thalassia, from the only person Sandy considered to be a mother figure. The Iron Knight from Mandalore. Mirdala.

 

She mentally kicked herself for getting overwhelmed again. She had swon not to do this again. She pulled herself up in her chair running her hands through her hair until she finally spoke back to her master. “Don’t worry master, we will strike back soon, and swiftly. We must let the Grand Master and the rest of the council know of the situation after the next microjump.”

[Tobias Vos]

Vos wanted to sit in silence- off in his own little world as he tried to wrestle with the ideas and thoughts in his head. He knew he would be haunted by this decision for a long time to come, even more so if Skye was actually down there. Slowly breathing in and out, he closed his eyes. Sarah would have had no idea what to do in this instance, it was a good thing he was in charge, he guessed. Hell on him, but perfect for her. He wanted to let it all out- all the frustration- but that was the way of the Dark Side, a part of him wanted to give in.

 

A part of him needed to give in.

 

But he wouldn't allow it- Sandy was here, as well as others on the station, and of course, risk his position within the Jedi Order.

 

That wasn't the plan- to be a part of the Jedi Order. Rumbling to himself, he consigned to open his ears, and move along.

 

"You're right." Vos sent out the communication about there was a substantial fleet of Sith forces in orbit- and Sandy and he could not penetrate it. As per Kirlocca- he didn't include the details of the other three corvettes there as well either.

 

"You understand why we did not devote these lives and resources to that fight, right? You've come to the same conclusion as I did?" It seemed like a rhetorical question, but Vos left the words hang in the air as they transmitted the message...

[Dordjooba the Hutt]

Kaldena pinned her hair back, nestling the fine bit of metal between the tight bun she’d woven. When she was finished, she adjusted the digital clipboard in the crook of her right hand and started pacing the bridge of the Dornja Kajin - - Dordjooba’s luxury yacht.

 

“Dordjooba, our asset reports have rolled in and I’d say about 55% of the readout is more troubling than I’d have hoped.” The Zeltron said, her expression neutral and unassuming. “You still have influence in a large portion of Hutt Space and your factories on Nal Hutta are fine. But Nar Shaddaa is gone. The appropriate vendors and contacts have not been sending money, which leads me to believe our cash flow in that region has been seized, removed or otherwise interrupted. But, due to your absence, that makes some measure of sense.”

 

Kaldena sighed lightly, sitting on an exquisitely trimmed leather chair. She alternated the clipboard from her right arm to her left arm and continued talking as if nothing had changed. “Also, your investments in Kuat were terminated due to the rise of the Imperial Remnant. Your investments in Nubian droid factories are sinking rapidly or disappearing altogether due to the rising popularity of a company called, ‘Lemnos Industries.’ And there are a number of pirate groups that have wandered into other outer rim territories. Altogether, it looks like our work is cut out for us.”

 

Dordjooba ‘stood,’ staring out into space. Trouble always seemed to follow him. But he would find no end to it if he sat in a hole somewhere and refused to acknowledge it.

 

“Alright. I will see to the Kuat investments. We need to visit Carida and see how that is going to work. Then we can proceed to Nubia and inquire about Lemnos. In the meantime, I want you to put an info jacker on the holo-net to watch for Lemnos ads and extract as much information as possible about them.”

 

Dordjooba turned to look at Kaldena and bent into a small bow to show his appreciation. “As for Nar Shaddaa, I’ll put a call out to the twins and see what’s what.”

[JJK]

Once Roene, Tyue, and Joelle were settled in their cabin and the transport had taken off from Corellia, Joelle voiced some of the thoughts she had previously held back: "Your analogy of the difference between how the Jedi and Sith interact with the Force was enlightening. And that illustration certainly works better for a river than it would with the wind I was sensing on my own!" With that last statement, Joelle's mind wandered into future possibilities. Hmmmm. If my real perception of the Force is more like the wind, how would I someday begin to teach a padawan about it and the difference between Jedi and Sith? Realizing she was getting ahead of things, she mentally shook herself. Throttle back, Joelle! Much as teaching is in your blood, let's not get ahead of things!! You've only just started learning so much of this yourself. You need to be sure you understand the difference yourself before you start thinking about that. Besides the importance of knowing so you can avoid falling to the Dark Side yourself! She returned her thoughts to more immediate questions she had concerning the Jedi's lesson.

 

"Master, as enlightening as the illustration and your lesson was, it also confused me in some ways. I do know the basic Jedi Code: There is no emotion, there is peace. There is no ignorance, there is knowledge. There is no passion, there is serenity. There is no chaos, there is harmony. There is no death, there is the Force. I also learned the Sith Code during my studies, with its talk of passion, strength, and power. For that reason, I had always thought that what separated the Jedi's and Sith's use of the Force was the emotional state through which they accessed it. Or at least that the difference came from that combined with the result of what they did with the power: peace and protection for the Jedi versus destruction and personal power for the Sith. But it seemed as though you were saying the difference comes instead from what they do with the power in its raw state. If I understood correctly, you referred to it as channeling it as a Jedi verses twisting it as a Sith?" While she had started out this path of questioning very calmly, at this point Joelle began to be agitated, raising her voice slightly and gesturing with her hands to add emphasis. "But on the other hand, some of the later things you said seemed to point back to the idea that the product of the power does indeed matter, and even that the Jedi shouldn't be aggressive toward the Sith, which is why I was concerned by the actions of Kyrie and the other Jedi on Carida to begin with, but you had said earlier that you believed her motive was enough to make things alright!"

 

Joelle ended the final thought with a frustrated sigh. "I know I'm not off to a very good start of controlling my own emotions, Master. I do look forward to the life-long pursuit of exploring the Force and hope that the passion I have for understanding and knowledge won't lead me astray. Now, though, I suppose I need to stop talking for a bit and let you address my confusion."

[Roene Givrah]

Roene chuckled a little, doing his best to bring an even humor to his budding Padawan's anxiety. “To start, I am known to talk in circles a little. Sometimes I get going on a subject and can contradict myself halfway through. And, although I may know a great deal of the force and its mysteries, I don’t claim to know everything. The force is not a four-piece puzzle you can finish in a day. It is a grand puzzle that takes eons to decipher. In fact, the never ending civil war has some basis in the different philosophies of the two orders and the conflict derived from those differences.”

 

The Cerean shuffled in his seat a little. Something about the leather would not sit well with him. He preferred open air and the company of natural things. Flying in a starship or moving around in a speeder was never his preferred mode of travel. But he had to travel sometime.

 

“In direct answer to your opening statement, the force is not the same for everyone, so your interpretation could be just as valid. You may not see it now, but in time you will learn how your interpretation works. In fact, the code is a great way to study, but I encourage you to think outside of it. Understanding both codes will help enlighten you to the conflict of how our two Orders think. Now, as to your questions, I’ll try to break them apart a little to help you understand.” Roene paused to clear his throat and adjust in his seat again. He put out his wooden arm to pet the tufts of fur on the crown of Tyue’s head. The Garral responded with a playful woof and rolled to his side with a big grin on his face.

 

“I guess I did contradict myself a little bit. The Sith and Jedi have multiple differences. But, the core of those differences is ‘intent,’ and I’ll explain that a little more after I elaborate on your first point. Both the way you access the force and what you do with it matter.” Roene tried to speak as slowly as he could, not as an insult, but because he knew of his own verbal clutter and didn’t wish to confuse Joelle more. “Accessing the force is something pupils wrestle with. I did when I was a Padawan and you will as well. But, the important thing to remember, is that anyone who is sensitive to the force always has access to it unless muted or cut off by an intermediary. The Jedi open themselves to the force’s flow. You find a trigger in your mind that works for you or a thought that helps you get to where you need and you let the energy wash through your system. The Sith, on the other hand, think you need an emotional draw. They think, by drawing with powerful emotion that they can gain more power. And they can. However, they are using their emotions – something personal to the core of their being – to contort and manipulate the forces of creation, which can have drastic ramifications on their mind and on their body. Ramifications that can cost more than is apparent when the Sith draw on the force for the first time.” Roene’s tone became a little somber, but he tried to keep his face neutral to avoid making the conversation too dark.

 

“And, as I said, the Sith are a natural reflection of us. We all have emotions and it is incredibly easy to hold onto those emotions. I don’t fault the Sith for the way they harness the force. Because the force is the very power of creation. If it or whatever/whoever made it did not think that beings with free will would twist it, then it was not thinking clearly when it made us.” Roene smiled a little and looked at the stars as they rolled into hyperspace.

 

“Going back to the channeling idea; to effectively channel the force - as I said the Jedi did - you must make yourself a channel. Free your mind of any contaminants and let the force flow through you; open the gates and allow the rush of water or air to channel through your body and follow your thoughts to where you want it to go. And the Sith, to twist the force, they move unabated. They don’t clear their channel. They fill it with emotional debris or work with the debris already there to manipulate the flow to their desire. They may clear their minds as well, but the emotional congestion that they draw from leads to what I mentioned before. And, because they are coming from an emotional state, their use of the force or what they do with it is often fueled by that emotion. And the effect of their emotion and projected ability can twist the world around them just as much as it can twist themselves. When a Sith destroys something with the dark side it never truly leaves. It stays and becomes something different than what it was; a scar or void or a presence. Destruction itself can also leave a scar if the impact or devastation is great enough. After all, destruction is the opposite of creation. It is the opposite of what was intended and can lead to terrible things. Malachor V is a prime example of that.”

 

Roene shifted his eyes to look directly at Joelle before continuing. “Arriving at the last part of your confusion. I believe aberrations of nature should be healed or prevented. I do not believe that open aggression is the path to follow unless it is warranted. Faust, for instance, is a terrible man that once tried to destroy the force; the very fabric of our being. So, I would justify an aggressive or definitive response if he was involved. That said, I believe – in relation to Kyrie – I said ‘she thinks her intentions are proper and that she fights for the right reasons. Which, although war is hardly an appropriate answer, would explain why she is doing what she is doing.’ I did not say that her intentions were the right answer. I also did not say that they were the wrong answer. But intent matters. Close to the start of this conversation I told you that the core difference between the two orders is intent. The force is what creates life. It is there with us always. It can read us better than we can. If our intent is destructive, destruction will reflect upon us. If our intent is to cure and purge then we may not see negative ramifications to our body or our mind. Like life and free will, the force’s will can be a fickle thing and hard to read. You are alright to be confused. I will do what I can to continue answering your questions. But know that confusion is nothing to be frustrated about. Confusion is a lack of knowledge. So, what do we do when we lack knowledge? We ask a question. And if there is no one to ask, we look it up.”

 

Roene smiled warmly and rested back in his uncomfortable chair.

 

“In time, you will understand Joelle. Trust me.”

[Sandy Sarna]

As the third timer for the microjump ticked down to zero, Sandy slowly pulled back the lever, making sure to cross off each Jedi Fleet vessel as they exited hyperspace. There were a little over a thousand souls between the three large vessels. She gestured to the scattered fleet with a sweep of her arm and answered his rhetorical question, “I understood the tactical reasoning for it master, our ships were not equipped for anti starfighter, we would simply have been ripped to pieces and thousands would have died for a single Jedi Master. Even the council would surely understand that right? We won’t get in trouble for abandoning our mission right?”

Would they be expelled for failing? This wasn’t the old Empire, Tobias and her wouldn’t be executed for failing rescuing Skye. But she couldn’t help but be frightened by the prospect of reporting to the council that they failed. Maybe they would strip Vos of his apprentice as punishment? No but she suspected this apprenticeship was punishment enough for the man.

 

Nope not going there. No depression today.

 

She shook her head and finished the calculations for the next jump.

[Tobias Vos]

"Very good. Since we have time to kill, your other thoughts? You seemed agitated a bit ago, and upon your recommendation- I am opening the conversation up." The latter part of what he said- seemed to be a little forced. Perhaps it was a bit of his solidarity being pushed aside.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy frowned at his having noticed her frustration and fear earlier but answered in turn. “I felt a bit overwhelmed Master, I could feel that preying hunger from the Sith almost as soon as they arrived in the system, it touched me in a way I haven’t felt since…” She sighed sadly and hugged her knees to her thin chest, “Since a little after Thalassia, the feeling was the same, that lustful hunger in the force, it frightened me. And what’s worse we couldn’t do anything to stop them, it would have been suicide to try but now we look like failures to the Jedi Council. What will they say to us?”