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[Kyrie Eleison]

Ben-Havram smiled softly to the still kneeling girl, her beautiful features softening, the pale canvass of her face began to become dotted with freckles and she seemed to grow younger. Raven hair tied itself into a long braid down her back, and glasses settled across her sea-green eyes. The ghosts’ voice softened into that of a younger teenager, crackling with cast-down apprehension and unease as she knelt down to the girl.

 

“To be unsure and lost in our weakness, in the storm of our own doubt, is part of humanity. You are trapped within a dream, a facade of weakness from your own youth. Do not take admonishment in this, life has dealt you a rough hand until now. You use weakness as a shield against the terror of your own strength. Fear that you will become as the ones we fight. Do not confuse strength and evil.”

A ghostly hand passed across the girl’s cheek, revealing a freckled arm lined with scars.

 

“We are not so dissimilar.”

 

Kyrie reached to a nearby table, picking up a small box of ebony, bound with leather and ornate designs. She unlatched the lid, and a wince fell across her face as it creaked open. A wave of darkness emanated from it, like stench roiling from a body decomposing. It invaded the senses with the spirits of war and the dark beat of wardrums like heartbeats. With a small inhalation of breath, the Imperial general drew from the containment vessel the tattered remains of a crimson flag. A Sith Battleflag from the Cardian Temple, stained with the presence of the darkside. The voice of Il-Andon spoke with approval

 

“Practical training then. The Exorcism of Corruption.”

 

The Imperial Knight ripped the battleflag into portions, the cloth crumbling and bloodstained. She placed a portion before each in the room, letting them fall from waist height, to hang in the still air.

 

“Take your fire, and consume the darkness. Take it upon yourself, and cast it into the fires of your soul. It is a heavy burden to take, but it must be done. Dark spirits do not lay silent for long. We invited them into our mind, into the trap we have laid, and destroy them. We wrestle eternally with evil, it is time for the first battle. ”

[Aidan Darkfire]

Aidan took his part of the cloth, again tapping into the passion he'd felt earlier. The cloth seemed to shriek in the back of his mind as he took it, a silent scream that echoed not only the pain and horror it represented, but also that it somehow knew what awaited it in the immediate future. His thoughts began to race, and he knew after a moment that it was trying to claw inside of him, like a malignant tumor with a mind of its own. It met only his fire. There was no mercy, only the light. Darkness imbued within objects wasn't something that could be redeemed, and the only recourse, as he was instructed by Kyrie, was simply to purge it. As it became silent, Aidan stopped feeling slick and grimy, the evil that had permeated his portion of the cloth had dissipated.

 

"This...this is the Force? You'd think the Jedi would do this on the regular..."

 

Of course, Aidan had never had any other formal Force training prior to this, it was mostly meditation and learning how to sense things. That this was his first encounter manifesting the Force spoke volumes.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy smiled at Ben-Havram and rolled up her sleeves, the long vertical scars arcing down her arms in long lines. Most were healed, but the ones from not so long ago still kept their ugly red scabs. Once the green tunic sleeves were bunched around her biceps, Sandy stood, her brown boots making little noise as she walked alongside Aidan and took the opposite hem of the battleflag. It was a strangely beautiful piece, red and white and black on a field of dark crimson red. The cloth was old, perhaps woven in the centuries before the attack on the Caridian facility, and was stained deeply with the deaths and atrocities that had been committed under the blood red banner.

 

Though the battles were distant and ancient, they still held immense power over the flag, and that power was slowly beginning to echo in the ship itself. Her heartbeat quickened and she let herself fall into the presence of the force, letting it flow around her until she opened her eyes. She could still feel the linen grasped in her hand but the presences around the room had changed, the location had as well, and everything was encased in the blue fog of a ghostly vision.

 

<>

 

Around her in close packed divisions were the Sith lords of the Serpent order, screaming in a bloody combat against valiant jedi knights, the battle was taking place on a world that she did not recognize, its halls of grey granite far more ornate than anything she had ever seen before. The halls were cracked with blaster fire, and she realized that all around her the Sith were carrying long handled blades attached to grey durasteel packs. Proto-Sabres. Marking the battle to be at least five thousand years prior to Sandy’s birth. From the look of it, the Sith were losing and badly, but they fought on, their voices echoing in chants of spells and screams of death.

 

The flag in her hand was ripped away in the hustle of a charge, and Sandy ran alongside the pressing attack, knowing that whatever she was doing was not reflected in the real surroundings of the Imperial Ship, but was taking place in the flow of the force itself. The voice sounded again in her head, its whispering a clamour in her brain.

 

<>

 

Sandy swept the battle formation with her eyes and found the standard bearer holding the flag, flanked by two Sith masters who were chanting eagerly from scrolls they carried before them. A hand caressed Sandy’s shoulder and she was face to face with a Sith Lord of the Sith species. His red face obscured by the blue grey fog of the vision. His golden crown loomed over her, and his hand reached for her sabre. Springing back, Sandy drew her own but it would not ignite, the blade sputtering to die before she could strike a fatal blow. The Sith’s hand closed around her throat and the compression on her neck caused a cold shiver of fear to rock down her spine. She could feel her life leaving her body little by little as the great Lord picked her up by her neck and Sandy began to draw heavily on the force to assist her. First steadying her breath, then to begin to pry the fingers from her neck.

 

Fire

 

That’s right, I could just do what the bloody exorcist told me to, instead of dying in the middle of a vision.

 

 

Sandy channeled the force through her, letting the pure thoughts of love and life flow through her soul and into the hand that grasped her neck.

 

Crux sacra sit mihi lux!

 

The words flowed through the force, springing unbidden to her lips and the white hot power of the light side blew the vision into tatters, leaving Sandy holding the scrap of flag in her hand. The dark linen crumbling away into ash. Its darkness sancified.

 

For now

 

She looked up, shocked to the Exorcist.

 

“Was that supposed to happen?” her own hand exploring her neck where the demon had grabbed her.

[DoctorOblivious]

The knowledge of the Jedi Il-Andon and Ben-Havram must have been lost to negligence or disaster, or suppressed by Sidious’ purge. Moriarty had never heard of them, nor the arm of the Jedi arts that they had mastered. This knowledge must have been uncovered and resurrected only in recent history by Jedi who risked being confounded by a heresy left by the inquisition. Regardless of their origins, these two Jedi had clearly been in the shavit.

 

Still leaning against the arched portal that led to the ship’s crew dormitory, Sophia continued to watch the Imperial Knights train, not having much of anything to contribute to the session aside from her presence. Her disruptive question having been ignored, the historian remained silent, her left hand covering her lips and her amber eyes seemingly focused on a point just beyond the surface of the freighter’s bulkheads. While the avatars of the ancient Jedi instructed their flesh-and-blood pupils, her lips curled downward and her shoulders sank slightly. It wouldn’t take Jedi powers to grasp what the historian was feeling.

 

It was envy.

 

Although even a cursory probe through the Force or relevant blood test would reveal that the historian was Force Sensitive, Moriarty held very little hope of developing her genetic abnormality into any practical abilities. Years ago, when she had first become aware of her gifts, she had been tested by that Miraluka hag who had spent most of the memorial pestering her for any possibility of nurturing her Force Sensitivity into genuine power. They had spent many silent hours meditating in dark, quiet chambers; days were spent exercising to the point of physical and mental exhaustion. Sophia had even endured trials that she was tempted to dismiss as hokum: attempts at startling a manipulation of the Force out of the victim, even a nonsensical test that involved attempting to predict the image projected by a concealed holocard. After weeks of failure and humiliation, Misal had quietly taken the novice into a private cell and gently broken the news to Sophia: there was little hope that she would ever develop her potential into something more practical--that her sensitivity to the Force was stunted, flawed, mostly useless, whether by psychological block or biological malformation. Her delicacy in handling the matter was the only display of compassion that she had ever seen from the elderly Miraluka.

 

Once released and provided with enough resources to forge ahead for a few months, Sophia had thrown herself into her studies with religious dedication, consuming information as desperately as a dying woman at a desert oasis. Much like the victim of dehydration, such a reckless thirst had its own risks, not the least of which was a miserable death by dysentery. Her genetic abnormality might have been virtually useless save for the occasional flash of intuition, but her mind could still wield some small amount of power. As one of the more cynical texts that she'd had the displeasure of reading had eloquently described the power of information: she who controlled the past controlled the future.

 

Even if she would never be able to train like these Jedi, even if the twin gatekeepers of that holocron regarded her as an innocuous curiosity, Sophia could still observe and record. Perhaps she could steal away time consulting Eleison’s holocron, try to persuade its guardians to divulge knowledge that had been thought destroyed for millennia. Hopefully, the historian could at least keep pace with the Imperial Knights and record their actions, so that if the galaxy was wracked by yet another ruinous war, it would at least learn something from the trauma.

 

Change the galaxy. Make a few credits. Preferably both.

[Kyrie Eleison]

“The battle against the dark takes on as many forms as their are creatures in this galaxy. Vision-walking, like you Knight Sarna, is how I combat darkness.”

 

Kyrie allowed her own flames to die down as she breathed out a long sigh, silvered eyes concealed behind black braids fading to deep emerald, the fires of her passion consuming themselves. She slipped the glove from her scarred hand, the old wounds portraying the claws of a beast, and placed it against her armoured chest. She breathed in a ragged breath and pulled away the hand, which was now dripping in an oily film of pure darkness. It formed itself into an sphere upon her palm, glinting with drips of crimson. The cold hand of evil began to spread its fingers of those within the room as Kyrie spoke, her voice haunted with sadness

 

“Every fire leaves behind ash and soot, and the same is true with our purification. We take the evil upon ourselves to rid it from influencing the galaxy…”

 

Her fingers caressed the orb, as if it was the hand of a friend on their deathbed. Within its swirling darkness lay the minds and actions of those she had killed, those that had refused redemption. Those that chosen the burning fire of the light over giving up their evil.

 

“It is our burden to carry until we die. We can only contain and manage it, like a metastasizing cancer. Like such a disease, it will eventually kill us.”

 

She looked up at the assembled group and a sad smile spread across her pale lips

“Uncontained and unmanaged, it will be our doom. Each Exorcist experiences the battle differently. The corruption. ”

 

Il-Andon nodded gravely, and placed a hand over his own heart, as did Ben-Havram. The Revanchists were again in unison as they brought out their lightsabers, but did not ignite them.

 

“Meditation in a pure form can help to keep the darkness you now carry inside you at bay. For our Order during our deployment against the Mandalorian Crusades, there was little time for such things. Some of us formed totems in which to bind darkness, but that allowed evil to escape our deaths.”

Il-Andon ignited his ghostly weapon, and instead of a blade, the scene of a hundred knights gathered together was shown. Drinking, laughing, the revelry of a team. Brothers and Sisters united in more than war, but in the assurance of death.

 

“Find refuge in each other. We called ourselves The Inquisition, in response to those kriffing Crusaders. Watchcircles, our War Councils.”

 

Kyrie stepped forward, letting the darkness flow back inside of her, causing her to shudder. She extended her hands to those gathered, even the Historian. She reached out with the Force, with the songs of the Force which reverberated through the ship as it hurtled through hyperspace.

“Join in spirit. In the consciousness of your surroundings. Feel everything. Share the poisons inside, and help each other contain them. We are not the emotionless Jedi. They know of the Force, yes, but nothing of the realities of the Galaxy we are sworn to defend. There is great strength in the unity of brothers and sisters in battle. No bond is stronger. Another Practical Training.”

[Kala Ianauria]

”The only light I had to guide me in my journey through the singularity was the flame of belief in the Song of the Force.” Kala Ianauria, Memories of a Thousand Knights.

 

”Wait, are you telling me I am living three other lives in three other times? You realize how crazy that sounds? And how exactly does that work?”. Kala Ianauria and Visas Marr.

 

The torn black cloth given to her seemed small after her experiences at the Temple on Carida. She reasoned that its small size, like a mustard seed, held the potential for something greater than its relative size indicated. Maybe that was why she heard the notes of the Son so clearly, so bright as to be nearly blinding.

 

Kala took the scrap of cloth gingerly. The stuff seemed delicate, unnaturally so. The taint of the Darkside crept from the stuff and into the tips of her fingers. Notes from her Song immediately intensified and held the subtle poisons at bay. Still, they held a tiny beach head and with it the beginning of the most minute of paths to her heart.

 

Taking a deep, calming breath, Kala stoked the flame of heart with fiery notes of purity and purpose until it felt as if her soul might melt from the glory and joy that was her fires.

 

Then she poured forth her flame along the branching nerves of her fingers until the fiery light flowed to her fingertips and in to another battle in the timeless war between the Light and the Dark.

The light of her blazing inner fire met the cloths Darkness in mortal combat and lo! and behold! The darkness fell to the inevitable might of the Light and Hold Soulfire. A brief second of battle, a near flawless victory with the Darkness and the cloth disappeared and the Light rejoiced, triumphant and glorious and shining.

 

Almost flawless.

 

One miniscule breath of Darkness escaped, a small note whose existence was measured in milleseconds, found a way to strike back, to create the seeds of a story that both terrible and beautiful, joyful and sad.

 

At her moment of victory, Kala’s mind splintered. She stood in four places at once, one was a beautiful, ruined world where she saw a man, beautiful and powerful, bend down and pick up a mask.

Her vision shifted to the great Temple of Coruscant, where she sat among near silent halls and and listened to her lover’s soft encouragement.

 

Last, she stood aged and decrepit over a vast family on a technologically advanced world of unknown architecture. A family where not being Force Sensitive was the exception.

When the visions finished, she found herself holding a small pile of ash that she quietly put Into a capsule for proper disposal.

[Sapphire]

The Nebula's Glory flew through the blue-white tunnel of hyperspace.

 

Sapphire spent the first few minutes of the flight installing a new transponder and making sure the ship's records were squeaky clean. They were going to the Imperial capital, and she didn't want them to have any issues with customs or immigration. The ship was rechristened the Blue Thunder, and Sapphire quickly made up some forged ID's for the two of them that would withstand all but the most intense scrutiny. Their manifest read that they were sisters who were legitimate pilots for a small-name shipping agency out of Rattatak, and as she filled out the necessary forms that Carida would require, she stated that they were here to visit their aunt, uncle, and cousins. She found the irony amusing; neither she nor Sapphire--nor Kalen for that matter, she knew--would ever want to visit their real families.

 

Once all of that was taken care of, she nevertheless found herself lingering in the cockpit. She and Emerald had had their share of fights in the past, but rarely had they come to blows, and most of the time it just blew over without them ever having to really talk about it. Suddenly, she was frustrated with herself. You aren't a coward. Go talk to her.

 

Rising to her feet, she headed back to the main part of the ship. "Emerald?" she called. "I know you don't want to talk to me, but you need to know why I felt the need to come here in person."

[Aira Cadan]

Aelyn and I spent the voyage studying the files Raven had sent. The situation on Carida was a giant mess, almost unbelievable. It was as if the droid had snapped. Clearly, both of the CoreSec agents didn't trust the Imperials as far as they could throw them, but either the droid had had some malicious programming, or this had been a secret GA plot all along. I seriously hoped it wasn't the latter.

 

I sighed and leaned back. "What do you think, Aelyn? There still seems a chance for the GA to salvage this. But the whole situation is really strange. Why would the GA send people undercover with such a flimsy cover story? Why did the cover story keep changing? Why did the droid target the Imperials? Why didn't they try to surrender in the time the Imps gave them?" I rubbed my face. "I can't help but feel that if the GA wanted an excuse to start a war--which is seriously stupid, considering they'd be better off as allies against the Sith--there would be much better ways to do it."

[Aelyn]

Rubbing her temples, Aelyn looked over the datapad again. "I just can't believe that they would deliberately cause a war," she said. "There might be general distrust of the Remnant, but surely the entire Galactic Alliance hasn't forgotten what a toll the last war took on the galaxy and therefore are focused on avoiding another one. I have to think that the agents went rogue or were criminally incompetent. It's horrifying that people died as a result of this, but if it wasn't sanctioned by the Supreme Commander, it shouldn't be mistaken as a political move and turned into something that will result in further death."

 

The truth was, it looked really bad. What had the agents been thinking? Tensions were already starting to build, and things like this really needed to not happen. She hoped that the GA would agree to let them talk this through with Raven, but a lot of other things surrounded that. They needed the GA to tell them what the mission had really been and hope the captured GA agents didn't tell some version of the story that was totally incompatible with what they were told. They would then either have to totally disavow the entire team or plead insanity for the inciting member.

 

Damage control sucked, she decided. "It would be a lot easier to talk on behalf of the Galactic Alliance if I felt like I could trust the Senate to do the right thing," Aelyn stated, still looking at the datapad. "As far as I know, they're going to feed us some lies to take to Raven and we're just going to end up helping them cover something up."

 

She looked at Aira. "Master, I don't think I'm willing to lie and deceive, even to keep the peace. How as Jedi do we balance truth against war?" The ends still didn't justify the means, even when the stakes were high. Maybe war could still be prevented even by telling the complete truth -- as long as the truth wasn't that the Senate and Supreme Commander E'lann wanted war.

[Aira Cadan]

"That's the trick, isn't it?" I said slowly. "And honestly, I think that's why Grandmaster Trevelian is trying to keep the Jedi neutral and not under the GA's authority. If we are under their authority, we become subject to their decisions and laws. If they say we have to lie and deceive, we pretty much have to. When a good soldier hears a bad order, he follows it, even if he knows it's a bad order. But you hit the nail on the head--we're Jedi. And we believe in truth and in peace. This is one of those situations where we have to rely heavily on the Force to guide us. We can tell when people lie to us. Hopefully if the GA does want war, they'll say it outright, or we can at least recognize that they have ulterior motives."

 

I put a hand on her shoulder. "To be honest, I get the feeling we're only going to be delaying the inevitable. War is coming. I just hope that it's against the Sith and not a three way mess. That would plunge the galaxy into levels of chaos it hasn't seen in a long time. But I'm getting off topic. You asked how we balance truth against war." I paused. "For me, I think the way forward lies in believing that there is a way. So often people look at a situation and they see two evils. And those evils appear to be the only two ways out of a situation, so they feel the burden to decide which is the lesser of the two evils and choose that one. And yes, maybe occasionally, that's the truth. But I find it's rarely so. There is almost always a third way, or a fourth way. Sometimes you don't see those until the last minute; but you always have to look to find them."

 

There was a chime from the cockpit, and I rose. "I don't know what is going to happen. Let's go talk to them, see what they say, and go from there." I gave Aelyn a small half smile. "Just remember, the Force is with us."

[Godfrey d'Outremer]

A message arrives for Knight Cadan.

 

Hello, I agree to your meeting, it can be held in my office as soon as yourself and the Supreme Commander are ready. Off the records, I must say that if this was truly a plot to start a war it was a poor one, and was not carried out by my office. For if it had there would be no Empress left to run an Empire. However no government will go to war for some son or nephew of a minor noble. This could have been done by the supreme commander in retribution for the coruscant plague and the recent assassination attempt in the Senate. This Caridian incident is sloppy enough and run by agents from his old unit within Core Worlds Security.

 

Something is rotten in this Galactic Alliance.

 

President Pro Tempore of the Senate,

Godfrey Aslem d'Outremer

 

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy was still reeling from the force vision as the ghosts and the imperial general began their conversations. The burdens they carried were shocking, in all her years, even with the exorcists in the Jedi order such as Xae-Lin she had never seen people affected by the darkside they purged. Then again she had never met a Jedi Exorcist that had ever fought evil before too. The burden was real, the echoes of the shadows from the imperial’s hands reverberated through the force. Like a sin eater, they took the darkness upon themselves to absolve the sinners of their past. To wash them pure in the light and drive the evil from them with the power of this Inquisition. She wanted in.

 

She wanted to take up the mantle and drive the darkness from the galaxy, a knight in service of the greater good. It was everything she had ever dreamed of, a fighting force of effective knights, no boring diplomacy, no negotiations, just a brotherhood and sisterhood of Knights. She would give up her life for a decade of such a life, to sit there with these men and women drinking from the overflowing cup of the force.

 

She caught eyes with each of the people and ghosts in the room until her soft voice spoke from trembling lips.

 

“Can I assist and learn in this Inquisition while not bowing to the Empress? I do not wish to yet turn my back on the Jedi, though my heart yearns for it, I do wish to learn if you will teach me.”

 

It was a bold ask, though if agreed to it would begin her journey into a life apart from the Jedi order in whole, a grayer if more valiant path.

[Aelyn]

"I understand," Aelyn said with a nod as she followed Aira to the cockpit. "The Force works in the moment, when we are calm and focused. I think when we get to it I will be fine, but sitting on the ship with half the picture and all the stakes makes it really easy to worry."

 

Aira's comm chimed and she played the message from President pro tempore so they could both hear. She decidedly didn't like Godfrey's idle insinuation that he could have Raven assassinated, but she didn't know enough about Tenebris E'lann to have an opinion on whether he was responsible. "I don't suppose we can get time on the Supreme Commander's schedule, too?" she asked Aira. "He's more likely to know what their actual mission was."

 

Sitting down in the pilot's chair, Aelyn eyed the hyperspace countdown, and a few moments later they arrived again in Coruscant airspace.

[Aidan Darkfire]

Aidan questioned what Kyrie had said for a moment, wondering if she was going slightly mad, when it creeped up on him suddenly like a bad case of heartburn. He could feel the darkness inside him. It struggled, whispering lies in his ear, pleading for him to grab his Master's lightsaber and strike her down like the corpse she deserved to be. Silently, he wallowed in the shame of the misunderstanding he'd made his last statement in. This was what it meant to be an Exorcist. To ride the edge of the knife and fight against yourself to destroy evil wherever it lay.

 

But through the fog of clawing madness, he felt Kyrie, her shining presence a beacon to help him find his path. His footing was found through her help, the darkness receding, but not leaving. This induction into the order of Exorcists was certainly a trial by fire. His fire. Had she not been here to guide them through the ritual, Aidan knew there was a large chance it would have easily consumed him.

[Skye Organa]

After the first of a series of random hyperspace jumps Skye headed to the galley, popping her head in on the twins who were sitting with Tirzah's still form. "I'm just going to make us something to eat and then you two can get some rest." She received a chorus of 'Yes Grandma Skye' and the two reluctantly left their friend's side to follow the Healer. They settled themselves at the table, the Nanny droid entering and stating that their beds were ready when they were. Skye thanked the droid and got herself busy fixing an evening meal for the twins and herself. It wasn't long before she produced a casserole with rice and the three sat together to eat. The twins were already yawning when they rose from the table, Skye guiding them to their beds. Once they were showered, changed and in bed she gave each a kiss to their forehead and a hug, pulling up their blankets so they were snug. Two young voices murmured 'Goodnight Grandma Skye' to which she responded in kind, saying goodnight to each child before she turned the light off, letting the Nanny droid watch over them while they slept.

 

The Healer checked on Tirzah, resting a hand upon the girls face soothingly, "You will be alright Tirzah. I have every confidence in your Mother. She will bring you back so you can be whole once more. Until then, know that I am here..." It didn't matter if her young charge could hear her or not, the sentiment was there. Skye watched her for a long moment before stirring herself to her next task. She had two vials of Sith Poisons to analyse and make antidotes for. She headed to the lab, Flitter floating along behind her. I-Nine met them there. The first vial she worked on was Faust's. The one that Tenebris had come in contact with. She knew the symptoms it had caused, the rage that had possessed the Coresec Officer. She knew it was a contact poison. She also knew that it would likely take her a long time to analyse it, not knowing if there was a way to create an antidote for it. Once she had prepared a sample of it - all done within a containment field - every precaution taken not to be affected by it, she set upon setting up the second sample. By the time she had set Kern’s poison in the analyse machine as well she was feeling very weary. All she had to do now was wait...

 

While she worked on the samples she had Flitter and I-Nine both searching the holonet and the packets of information that had been sent to her for anything relevant to her search. Every time the droids had found something she had paused to watch - or read - the reports. She took the reports with her as she retired, reading a few more before placing them down to rest. The droids would alert her the moment the samples were analysed, or if anything else happened in the meantime.

 

Four hours later the Healer rose, checked on the twins and her patient before she started reading more of the reports. She had the droids searching for anything that might pinpoint where this ‘safehouse’ was that the ‘Bhelliom’ backed up to but realised that she might have to find someone more tech savvy than she was. With that in mind she placed an ad on the holonet and went back to work…

[The Archivist]

A message came to the address that Skye Organa had provided from the holonet from a skilled tech and slicer by the name of Nath Corun. His resume came attached to the comma and was hefty and included jobs taken for such institutions as the Empire and SEED. He was perfect for the job. Attached was his impeccable headshot, with its ghoulish grin that only years of hard work and fatherhood could provide.

[Emerald]

Lying on her back on the lounge's cushiest sofa, her feet propped up against the adjacent wall and her blonde hair cascading over the edge of the seat, Emerald glanced up at Sapphire dispassionately, her face an unreadable mask. The hard set of her quizzical eyebrows and a sarcastic toss of her namesake eyes seemed to insinuate, however, that her mood had not changed much since departing Nar Shaddaa.

 

"I don't need to know anything, that much is obvious," she retorted sharply, "but if you finally feel like explaining to me all the things you've been hiding, maybe we can get back to work."

 

Her glower did not shift, neither did she change her posture to regard her friend's entrance. Tarvil's jacket lay on the floor across the room, crumpled like it had been thrown with some force against the wall before sliding to its final resting place.

[Tenebris]

A holographic comm using Galactic Alliance military encryption arrives for Jedi Knight Aira Cadan. The image is of a smartly dressed Zabrak in fatigues, his rank pips honoring him as a Captain.

 

 

Knight Cadan,

 

I am Captain Mithwyr, Chief of Staff to Supreme Commander E'lann. The Supreme Commander is indisposed at the present time but would like to meet with you at your earliest convenience upon your arrival to Coruscant, at the military base on Hesperidium. Enclosed are the landing codes necessary for priority civilian process, and you will be granted highest diplomatic priority. Thank you for your attendance to this matter and your willingness to serve as arbiter. Mithwyr out.

 

[Sapphire]

"Hiding?" Sapphire's eyebrows disappeared into her hair. "Hiding? I've hidden nothing from you. My past simply hasn't been relevant before. Much, I might add, like yours, which after all these years I know surprisingly little about."

 

With that pointed barb, she crossed her arms and leaned back on one hip. "You know I knew Kalen back in my days at school on Artus Prime. That's why I knew he would be a good manager for the band, and why I put his name forward. I knew we could trust him more than some random moof milker we could have found. But he has a price on his head, a big one. Not long after we--not long after I graduated and met you, he conned a pair of Kuati twins, stealing 15 million from them in a sabaac tournament. He ruined them and has been keeping his head down ever since. Which is why he was available to take the job. I knew there was going to be some temptation on his part to do the same with Ammi, so I asked Alira--you know, the director of the video team?--to keep an eye on him. I don't think he'll try anything, but you know we have a habit of never putting all of our nexu eggs in one cargo hold." Her arms still crossed, she shrugged. "Alira commed me while we were taking on those ewoks, hinting that she had seen something that threw up a warning bell in her mind. That's why we need to check on them. I commed him, and he was quite evasive. He's brilliant, and that makes him slipperier than a Dathomirian jungle eel when he wants to be." A memory suddenly stirred, but she pushed it back, refusing to think about it.

 

Her gaze refocused on Emerald. "I didn't think his past would be an issue--still don't, really. I generally trust him. I know him well--or rather, I used to. Which is why I didn't say anything when Ruby hired him."

 

The most disturbing part of this whole thing for Sapphire was how him barreling back into her life hadn't been relegated simply to working together. She hadn't expected that he would start appearing more and more in her thoughts; that memories would keep crossing her mind; that strange feelings kept stirring up inside her. The lattermost was particularly annoying. She hadn't thought about him much in the intervening years, and now it was like his presence was haunting her.

[Emerald]

"Yeah, I know about the twins," Emerald said dispassionately, swinging her legs to the side in a neat arc that brought her one hundred and eighty degrees around until she was vertical once more. "You talk like you know him. That's the problem with you, Sapph. If there's anything I know about him, it's that no one knows anything about him. Take everything you think you know and shove it. He's good at his job, he's smart, he's fast, he's lucky. But he doesn't have feelings, and he's not your friend."

 

Her words were as cold as if they were frozen permanently in carbonite. Suddenly uncomfortable under her friend's scrutiny, she sprang to her feet and moved as if to stalk off toward the cockpit. "He's not mine either," she finished abruptly.

[Sapphire]

Intentional or not, Emerald's words struck a dagger of doubt in Sapphire's heart. She never trusted anyone easily. For someone to get to a point where Sapphire was willing to be open with them took a lot of time and vulnerability--which is why that list contained only a handful of people. Because she was cautious about trusting people, though, those people were usually ones that she had little doubt about, and once they were on, they were on it for good. Kalen had made that list all those years ago. But perhaps it was foolish for her to still trust him. After all, years had passed. And there was the small chance that he had played her the entire time...but something within her rebelled against that idea. He was no saint, but he was loyal to those that were loyal to him.

 

Or at least, he had been that way.

 

As Emerald stalked off, Sapphire snatched up the jacket crumpled on the floor and followed her. "Maybe you're right, maybe I don't know who he is anymore. But I did know him. You can't live with someone for about a year and not know them well," she said, tossing their history out into the open nonchalantly. "But it has been a long time since then, and people change." She paused. "If you knew about the twins then why are you so convinced I'm hiding things from you? Something tells me this is about more than Kalen Lorell," she said. Her eyes flicked down to Tarvil's jacket and then back to Emerald expectantly.

[Kyrie Eleison]

The Imperial General placed a scarred palm on the chest of Aidan, in a gesture of kinship. Behind her diffident nature, even she was beginning to grasp the brotherhood of that the Imperial Knights would become. She looked the robed apprentice from head to foot, studying his mentation and posture. She could feel a sickening apprehension, a leftover effect of the darkness clawing at the back of his confidence. With a flash of whirling braids she departed the room without a word. In her absence the ancient masters continued their lesson, drawing upon the force about them as Il-Andon spoke, his voice returning to the reserved tone of a teacher.

 

“You have tasted the sweetness of the light, and now the stain of darkness makes it bitter. You know now the corruption of evil, so that you might fight all the harder that the innocent of this galaxy may not have to taste it as you have. Many will join our cause that were not sworn to the Inquisition, Knight Sarna. We welcome all allies but those that desire to disparage our cause with the idle whispers of masters lackadaisical and milquetoast. Such incestuous decrepitude is the calling of the Jedi Council… Not the Revanchists, or the Imperial Knights.”

 

His aside at an end, the Imperial General returned with a harnessed pack of gleaming silver, with ancient symbology undecipherable. From it hung a cylinder of length and form similar to vibroblade handle, threaded to the pack with a blackened cord. The young Exorcist adjusted a few switches on the pack and handed it to Aidan with a happy smile. Ben-Havram’s voice carried the lesson

“When one can see the force, see how it attaches and binds each living creature together, it can prove a useful ally on the battlefield. Intuition, or foresight as some call it, will allow you to place your blade between your life and an enemy’s attack.”

 

Kyrie nodded to Aidan, and indicated the small switch on the handle of her gift

 

“A protosaber. Low power for now. We are swiftly approaching war, and I want to see if you are ready… If your former… Masters… Taught you anything useful.”

 

From her robes, the colour of seaweed upon the tide, rose six handles of ebony. With a choral snap, they unfolded into serrated stillettos. Wicked blades that called through the Force with the dripping blood of a much darker time in their wielder's past. Three of the blades turned their tips towards Knight Sarna. Each handle was angled individually, as if held aloft by the long dead duelist upon whose lifeblood had stained the handle. The lights in the cabin disappeared, leaving only the faint gleam of the Force Ghosts who watched with attentiveness

“Feel. Do not see. Trust in the fire, in the Force to guide each movement.”

 

Six blades advanced to encircle and strike in tandem. Not to hurt or kill, but to caress with the lesson of blunted cold steel.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy couldn’t help but blush at the jabs thrown the council’s way. If the inquisition was proven effective in the long run she could see many more Jedi flock to the Empire’s side, but for now she wondered if there wasn’t a higher truth in what the force ghost had said. The council was acting, they must be, they wouldn’t sit back and do nothing while the galaxy fell. She trusted Darex and Jaina and Xae. For now she would be on the front lines, hold back the darkness until the Jedi could find their feet and leave the quiet of their temples to trod the battlefields. Lightsabres in hand, to crush the Sith in finality.

 

She slowly stood as the Imperial General let three knives float from her belt to gather in the air before her. Nodding, Sandy drew the saber from her own belt but did not light it, instead, she reached out with the force to study the blades before her and caught in her mind's eye the three figures that held them. Ghouls of men they were, dressed in rags of the old Sith Empire and they were terrible to behold in the force. Though weak and holding onto their forms only to torment the living, they were still powerful enough to draw blood. Their mouths were gashes of rotten and decayed flesh, teeth sticking like rows of pikes from a phalanx in their mouths, the gums long receded. Though they were scary, they were nothing like the reality of pain and loss that she had found on Thalassia so they did not frighten her. She felt pity, nothing more. For they were no grand beings of darkness, but slaves to it. Slaves to be freed.

 

She reached out again with the force and side stepped the first blow from the one of the left and backhanded him with the pommel of her saber. The ghost offered little resistance and her hand would have passed through the presence if she had not used the technique of purifying fire. When her hand was in the middle of the ghost she let out the light to flood out the darkness.

 

“Be gone and trouble the living no longer!”

 

The stiletto fell the ground in a clatter of rusting metal and she turned on the other two,

 

“I release you from your torment.”

 

She pulled the spirits towards herself with the force, embracing them like old friends. The threat of the stilettos was real and biting thing and not something to be easily dismissed even as a Jedi Knight so she manoeuvred her body between them, thanking the gods for her lithe form, and wishing they had a tailor on board for when the knives slashed through her thin robes, luckily missing flesh but cutting her tunic all to ribbons. She was glad that was wearing undergarments though it was unlikely Aidan could see any of her through the cuts in the tunic as he was busy fighting himself. The ghosts did not go down easily, their black mist clung to her flesh for but a moment before the exorcised the spirits as Kyrie had taught her. Channeling the purity of the light side through her body and into the spirit's, cleansing them and banishing them into the arms of the waiting force. To never again walk the galaxy. Free at last from the bonds of mortality and anger.

[DoctorOblivious]

Sophia’s expression twisted quizzically upon Commander Eleison’s invitation and it was clear that the historian was hesitating to join their training. Finally, her throat tightening visibly, the brown-skinned woman forced herself from her uncomfortable perch against the edge of the portal to the Sanctis Cogitatione’s common room and into the center of the room. The keeper of that holocron was occupied with training Aidan and the younger Jedi Knight and thus gave her approach no attention.

 

Now in their company, Sophia closed her amber eyes and nodded twice to herself, taking a pair of deep breaths. To her surprise, the flow and clarity of meditation came within seconds, almost as though calling upon muscle memory. As she opened her eyes and turned to watch Aidan and Sarna train, she unconsciously offered her unguarded thoughts and emotions to the cadre.

 

Sophia was both envious and afraid of the Imperial Knights, in particular wary of the Knight-Commander. The cause of the envy was simple to guess at; in their presence, even the most oblivious Jedi Knight might have been able to detect her sensitivity to the Force. Her trepidation, however, would be difficult to comprehend; presumably, none of her present company had any reason to hold any ill will towards the scholar, even with her tendency to be somewhat prying and obnoxious. A close interrogation of Moriarty through the Force would elicit some answers, and yet more questions. Sophia, on physical observation, was obviously human, with the requisite limbs, digits, and facial features; flesh and blood was clearly under her skin, and the touch of her hand was even slightly warmer than average.

 

Whatever the woman was, however, she was clearly not human. She wasn’t a droid--her sensitivity to the Force alone would attest to that--nor one of the closely-related subspecies that were indistinguishable from humans upon even close examination. However, she felt profoundly wrong, as though her creator had made an earnest attempt and poured their passion into creating a flawless facsimile of life--and fell just short.

[Aidan Darkfire]

Feel. Do not see.

 

Those words clung to Aidan as he studied the device his master had handed him. It had a switch on what looked like a lightsaber hilt, but the hilt was connected to what looked like a power source, a design he'd never seen before. Had she called it a protosaber? He'd had little time to think before the lights dimmed and an attack was upon them. Aidan's heart raced, adrenaline surging through his veins as a powerful fight-or-flight reaction rocked him, igniting the blade and lashing out at the same time. The blade seemed to have a mind of its own in his grasp, however, and completely missed, nearly wrenching the hilt out of his grasp in the process. He'd never really handled a lightsaber before, even a training one. This was obviously why.

 

Feel. Do not see.

 

He needed to calm down, to focus. Kyrie had told him those specific words for a reason, the key to the trial she'd placed before them. Aidan quickly realized that the Force was the only way out of this without getting cut up. Quickly as he could, he strapped the power pack to himself, taking the hilt in both hands, the calm blue blade held in front of him in a guard...at least that's what he thought he was doing. The hilt seemed alive in his hands, every small movement carrying an additional force with it. Somehow he felt like that could be used to his advantage, if he could predict how the hilt would move it would speed up his strikes and even add power to them.

 

Feel. Do not see.

 

Clumsily, he moved to block two blades swiping at him, catching the first but missing the second. It didn't quite connect with him; instead tearing cloth near his midsection in a narrow miss. Slowly, he forced himself to calm down, to study the movement in the shadows, to reach out and accept what his physical body could not process. In that moment he felt a warmth, like someone behind him tenderly holding him, guiding him. With more confidence his blade whipped, catching the third attack from his rear as it jabbed near his shoulder blade. The blade itself went flying, shattering on a bulkhead near one of the Force ghost projections.

 

Feel. Do not see.

 

Do not see.

 

Aidan closed his eyes, fully allowing himself to give in to the wisdom the General had imparted to him, no longer straining his eyes to see in the darkness. The Force was with him, it would provide. It gave him strength and solid footing, it was his bastion of light against the furious storm of darkness, a beacon in the void. In that moment he saw without sight. He couldn't see the blades, but somehow he knew where they were, how they moved. Another slash from the second blade again, panicked this time. It was as if the darkness within the stiletto could feel him as a threat now, recognizing that he represented its end. The blue blade flashed again and again, Aidan stepping back and forth, forward and back, the saber fluidly moving to meet each and every one of the strikes. It felt natural to Aidan, it felt right. With a parry, the stiletto was flung at the deckplates, the tip of the blade burying itself into a seam and sticking there.

 

Feel. Do not see.

 

Aidan now moved in to attack, confident in himself. He slashed out at the last blade, but the hilt twisted in his hands, barely missing. The opening was made, and the last stiletto buried itself cleanly in his upper thigh. Pain coursed through him like electricity, shattering his concentration and hold on the Force. Immediately he switched off the saber, grabbing at the hilt of the knife, but it stuck there with a power seeped into the steel from long ago, vengefully and bitterly staying put. After a moment of dealing with the pain, anger and pain coursed through his mind and the fire again rose up inside him, purging the blade. For a moment, it appeared to glow white hot, though its actual physical temperature remained unchanged. Aidan dipped deeply into his emotions, cleansing the knife with the fire his mentor had taught him. The darkness he'd taken into himself felt bitter but satisfied, a different sensation than when he'd cleansed the flag moments ago. Finally, he wrestled the knife free from his leg, putting pressure on it to stem the bleeding. In confusion, he looked to his master.

 

"What...what went wrong?"

 

Vaguely he became aware again of Sandy, the entire time not even having the luxury of acknowledging her existence. She'd done fine, much better than he.

[Tobias Vos]

Vos just laid there- his brain swirling with ideas along with his own musings. What happened back there? Why had Darex removed him from the council? Jaina seemed like she should have been the one excused- kid getting kidnapped or whatever. It was probably best for him to shake Darexs’ decision from his mind. He moved his arm up and down, his fingers gently scratching Adennas’ arm. She was snuggled up beside him, sleeping. Tobias couldn’t quiet his mind. Even listening to the hum of the hyperdrive hadn’t helped- it normally knocked him right out. What was in that holocron?

 

His mind flashed back to the time he followed Lucifer to… where was it again? Where was that Holocron? Back at his little base? The option of going to Rhen Var was on his mind, he wanted to return to something familiar. He had been there just before… what Station was that… the Sith one… where the Nightsister Qaela got revenge for a weak fool. Then- Sabatin took over his training. Refocusing- his mind went back to the Holocron of Kirloccas’, the one that Jaina asked him to retrieve. Would he? Concentrating, he closed his eyes for a minute: Yes, yes he would get it. Why though? Was that what Adenna wanted of him? Or was it what he really wanted?

 

The woman cradled in his arm, stirred but never awoke. His hand brushed her tunic slightly. Holding his breath for a second, he was caught off guard- but he didn’t trip on his psychometry. Over the past few weeks he had been getting better at his mental barriers against the Force-augmented Psychometric abilities he had. Nothing came, and the moment was gone. He was living in the moment, Tobias decided. That was Jedi Knowledge, now. The duo had conversed for a few hours before they really dozed off. Vos detailed the reasoning’s behind the fleet, the station, his agents, and explained what he did it all for. Admitting his shortcomings at not being very good at this goofy stuff, and still the Jedi thing again. He kind of wanted to be a Free Agent- sometimes working for the Jedi, sometimes for the Imperial Knights, sometimes for himself. Not because of some ethos, or sworn allegiance- but if something felt right. If something felt good, he didn’t have to worry about making ends meet, he would be able to assist whenever- and whomever. That was a bit of a danger, however, no backup.

 

They had stopped the serious banter a few topics into it- he was saving the big ones for last. How was she going to react to that his previous master was a Sith Trandosian, as he was Within the Veil… how… and what Sarah and DuVos were.

 

For some reason- his mind started to drift off back into sleep. Looking down at mass of black hair next to him, he smiled in both satisfaction and thankfulness. This was where he was meant to be alright- next to her- fighting for something right. He was a Guardian, it was right for them to go out and free some slaves. The investigation wouldn’t be long, that he was sure of. He would have to procure a datachip- erase all the previous events around the object- and record how Carida went. That was the positive side- he had that Datachip as his Psychometric log. A perk of the Kiffar power and his new found level of Force Mastery.

 

Within a moment, his eyes slid shut and he started to dream. It was the same dream he was in before he woke up earlier- he was soaring on a wing suit, after jumping out a dropship- he was… chanting…. Or laughing… or screaming in terror- or so it seemed, it wasn’t really clear, but it was a rush of fun- he kind of wanted to try it in real life...

[Emerald]

Emerald's jaw tightened as she wheeled on her friend, and she snatched the jacket out of Sapphire's hands. "This has nothing to do with Tarv. This is the way we've always worked, and it won't ever be different. No matter what he wants to tell himself."

 

Coiled like a serpent waiting to strike, she glared at Sapphire wordlessly, the two women locked in a predatory standstill. Painfully, the space of seconds ticked by, and Emerald could hear the blood pounding in her head. With guarded tone, finally, she spoke once more. "He abandoned me. Kalen. He was my friend and my mentor while I was in school, and one day out of the blue he just picked up and disappeared. Left me with some story about his family and how he had to get away from me to keep me safe. It was all bantha poodoo."

 

The tension melted slightly from her shoulders and she let the jacket dangle from her hands. "Look, I mean what I said, he's good at what he does. If he wasn't, I would never have agreed to hire him. But he isn't trustworthy, not at all. Maybe I expected a little more from you. I didn't realize you were still the kind of girl who could be taken in by a lot of smooth talk and a pair of green eyes. Shassa, Sapphire, you should know better. At least I'm aware that there's nothing significant between me and Tarvil. You still sound like a wide-eyed schoolgirl who's waiting to be swept off her feet. Newsflash: it's never going to happen. And if it does, your wallet will be significantly lighter when he leaves. And he will."

 

Behind the judgment in her eyes, Emerald was unable to hold back the flicker of pain.

[Sapphire]

The tension held...and then suddenly turned runny as Emerald confessed some hurt. Sapphire's posture grew a little softer. "Emperor's black bones, I know that," she replied. "I don't expect a thing from him; we parted ways a long time ago, and whatever we had back then is in the past. I'm not that kind of girl anyway." She paused, then decided to be honest. "I think there is something in me, deep down, that wishes. That wonders what life would have been like if we had stayed together. It's the only relationship I've ever been in that hasn't sucked. But you're right. I know it'd never happen. Not with things as they are." The weight of her sins rarely bothered her, but suddenly they seemed like a impassable mountain rising up before her. She squared her shoulders. "But that's okay." The words were as much to herself as to Emerald. "I happen to have gotten everything I ever wanted, and kriff it all if I'd give that up for some man."

 

She looked away, suddenly taking a great interest in the knobs on the navicomputer. Silence stretched between them. "I don't know what to expect," she finally said softly. "If something happens between us, then it happens. Whatever. But trust me when I say I know there's no chance of regaining what we used to have. Not with who I am now."

 

She finally looked up. "Thanks for looking out for me, though." It cost her a lot to add that last bit. She wanted to stay angry at Emerald, to firmly insist that it had been none of her business what Sapphire did or thought or felt. But Emerald was the only person in the galaxy she fully, truly, absolutely trusted. Maybe that was foolishness itself, but it was the truth.

[Pinckz]

Ooof…

 

Malin was ‘tossed’ onto a pull-out couch in the proprietor’s main office area. It was the only part of the facility that had a roof and was even vaguely atmosphere controlled. He landed with the grace of a 10-ton bag of cement, smashing his back and the back of his neck on the stiff piece of furniture.

 

To and Bo chuckled and then walked out the main door, bookending the passage.

 

The metal doors sealed behind them and made a slight hissing sound as the office airlocks cycled. Then, silence; merciful silence. The Smuggler wasted no time in removing the helmet of his vac suit and taking a breath of the stale, cigar touched, air. It was a relief, if a bit congesting, to breath in air that wasn’t self-contained in a suit. There was more variety, more depth… more something. Malin couldn’t really explain it.

 

He shifted his weight, wincing for a moment, and righted himself on the old cracked leather couch. He let his arms and leg spread out and then allowed the back of his head to rest itself on the back of the cushion. His greasy black hair draped out behind him and pooled on the back wall. The couch groaned and protested, the leather creaking and cracking in new ways as Malin moved about. But, in the end, it settled.

 

An hour passed.

 

Malin thought to get up, to leave the couch and start gauging, or planning. But the welcome call of the couch on his pain-addled joints was too loud. The stiff material had worked itself into something resembling comfort, which was more than Malin had had in quite a while. And, just when his comfort was about to hit its peak, the airlocks cycled again, and Will walked in, shedding his suit as he made his way toward the other side of the room and his moderately sized desk.

 

He was looking at a datapad and didn’t pay any attention to Malin until the doors were closed and To and Bo had once again retreated to their positions outside. After they left, the scrapyard owner looked up from his datapad with a wild grin on his face. It was the kind of grin you’d see in an overly happy person; way too much lip and more teeth than anyone should rightly show.

 

Then, he laughed.

 

Malin’s thoughts scattered, unsure how to react to this situation. So, in return, Malin laughed. They shared the moment chuckling. It was, odd. Malin couldn’t place the feeling of the situation and felt very awkward.

 

Will stopped laughing first and looked at Malin with a twinkle in his green eyes. Without his suit, Malin could get a good look at the junk pusher. He had a scraggly brown beard that was decently groomed. His green eyes were framed by a fresh, albeit scrawny, face. And, his accent was something of a mix. It wasn’t really Corellian and it wasn’t really Coruscanti. It fell somewhere in between. “It really has been a long time Malin. Nice to see you. Now, what the kriff happened with your ship?” Will’s guard and apprehension faded. “It looks like quite a bit of damage was done. Got yourself into another jam, huh?”

 

Malin smiled a genuine open-faced smile. “That’s a bit of a story Will. I might even tell it to you. But, for now, all that I care about is selling that ship, getting my leg looked at and making it away from this mess with some kinda profit. Force only knows I earned it.”

 

Will cocked his head to the right side as he took his seat at the moderately sized desk that abutted the far side of the room. On the desk was an assortment of knick-knacks, some diminutive devices/inventions, and a placard that read: ‘Will Natronus, owner, and proprietor of Big Will’s Scrapyard.’ “I would like to hear more, but I don’t think keeping you here would be a very wise choice.” Will said, his smile fading a little and lapsing into a more neutral expression.

 

“Oh? And why’s that,” Malin asked. His stomach lurched. He suspected he knew the answer. Though, he really wished he was wrong.

 

“Well, that’s a long story, Malin. And I might even tell you. But, let’s take stock of the more pressing matters, shall we. We made nice for anyone watching us outside. Now that we’re in the sanctity of my little office, I’ll see if I can’t help you out. What’s wrong with your leg?” Will asked, his tone ambivalent, but laced with some measure of concern.

 

“Some schutta blew my Achilles out with point-blank blaster fire. Ruined my favorite boots too.” Malin replied without missing a beat.

 

Will hissed through his teeth, empathizing almost immediately and moving his arm to his legs as if he could feel an echo of the sensation in his own body. “Damn.”

 

Malin sighed, looked up to the ceiling and closed his eyes, watching the lines of durasteel as they danced about the back of his weary eyelid. “Yeah.”

 

“I might have a contact that you could see about that, on planet. You can take a shuttle from here to Coruscant if you don’t plan on taking your ship.” Will said, giving Malin a moment to process.

 

“I-I might just do that.” Malin coughed, reaching idly in his coat’s breast pocket, searching for cigarettes that weren’t there. “Do you know what happened to my other ship?”

 

“Yeah… about that.” Will swallowed a little and looked anywhere but at Malin. “It was impounded by the Nabooian military and sent to the Galactic Alliance impound lot for safe-keeping.”

 

Malin’s eyes grew two times wider than their natural state. His heart almost skipped out of his chest. And, for a moment, he could scarcely remember getting a leg injury. “IT’S WHAT?!”

 

Will reacted to Malin’s anger, but didn’t cower or wince. He greeted the exclamation with an ambivalent gesture. One that showed Malin he was not giving credence to Malin’s furious objection. “Your personal effects were surrendered to the Nabooian Military for safe keeping. That said, I do have a ship you can have. I owe you, after all.”

 

Malin’s thoughts were distant. He kept his eyes trained on the ceiling and did his best to stifle the burning fire that slept in his heart. “You do? How did you come by this ship?” Malin asked. The Smuggler wasn’t really interested. But he couldn’t help a morbid curiosity.

 

“That is for me to know Malin. Now, let me help you with your leg and we’ll get you set up somewhere.”

[HannibalWasBetrayed]

Tallin walked through the large ship toward the docking bay, his hand rubbing gently over his scar in thought. After the Eventuality of Justice had left Orbit in Carida, en route to the war, he had been reassigned to the 39th Infantry Battalion, Company Delta, Squad B. His former unit had been sent on a different mission for which he had not recieved enough training, and so Tallin had moved to an regular infantry squad. He had been appointed the NCO of a squad of 9, a responsiblity which Tallin had accepted with some trepidation, the former NCO having not fully recovered from a breakout of Luf Virus.

 

The docking bay was filled with fighters, shuttles, bombers, preping for the assualt about to begin. Tallin was unsure of what planetary defenses Nar Shaddaa might have, but with what he knew of pirates, resistance would likely be feirce, at least for a time.

 

"What's your destination, soldier?" An officer, standing beside a console, his nimble hands overseeing the preperations going on, asked Tallin in the crisp, short manner dictated by the pressure upon his shoulders.

 

"39th Infantry, Delta, B Squad." A few quick motions upon the control board, and the officer, without looking up, pointed across the hanger toward a shuttle resting on the far side.

 

"Thank you, sir." Tallin picked up his pace as he crossed the crowded hanger, dodging trooops loading up, supplies rushed in all directions, and deck crew with dirty glares at any obstruction. His recently issued Imperial armor lacked the battle scars and worn appearance that marked him as a veteran, its pale grey exterior spotless next to the equally new E-22 strapped next to his Blaster Carbine, his personal vibroblade resting at his side. As Tallin stepped up to the shuttle, he saw the nine members of his squad already gathered inside.

 

"Dwang..." a young togruta female cursed as she noticed him enter the shuttle.

 

A tall human next to her quickly slapped her on the back of the head, "Shut it, he must be the NCO."

 

"But he's so greennnnn."

 

"I may be green to leading a squad," Tallin interrupted. "But I am definently not green to death, battle, or keeping annoying girls in line. Names Tallin, I was assigned to lead you by Imperial command. I recently escaped slavery on Nar Shaddaa, now it is my turn. I was reassigned from ISB for this campaign. What is your names and specialties?"

 

No one spoke for a moment, then a Lasat, his hands nervously fiddling with a couple sparks, murmured, "I am Ash, never to return to Lasan. I am the demolitionist, and also use rifles. I like explosions, fire is pretty, people are cruel."

 

A human female in the corner smiled, and adressed the Zabrak, "Don't mind him, he's... mostly sane at least. Our discplinarian over there is Silian Blar."

 

"I am the medic. My syringes will be here for you if you get injured." The human spoke, a not very reassuring grin on his face.

 

The female continued, "Our little Togruta is one of our rifles. Disrespectful, annoying, and a great shot. Larah Yers."

 

Embarrased, the Togruta looked down, "Sorry."

 

"Next, we have the Twins. Heavy gunner crew. Tana and Sana." She pointed to a pair of identical red Twi'leks, incongrously equipped with the extremely weighty gear of a E-Web blaster cannon.

 

"No, it's Sana and Tana. I'm Sana. "

 

NO! I'm Sana, don't listen to her. She's Tana."

 

"Anyways," the human female interrupted, patting a blocky Devaronian standing next to her. "That's Breaker, close range forced entry and clear. He has a different name I think, but he's never told it. He dosen't talk, but he can still communicate."

 

The alien did not speak, but offered a short bow to the new NCO.

 

"I am Racks, of the Tetsu clan. I speak 15 languages, and understand 11 more. Languages are wonderful, if I only I was a droid with the capabilites to store them all." The speaker was a Rodian, his huge eyes staring up at the ceilign of the shuttle, clearly thinking of his mental skills.

 

Another soldier, who had somehow hidden in the limited shadows amidst the shuttle, stepped forward fully into the light, the long barrel of a massive rifle sticking over his shoulder, his voice a hissing rasp. "I am Skreee, of Trandosha. I seek to place myself upon the Scaleeeee of Honor. I oweeee Lady Camila a lifeeeeeee debt. I bring deathsssss from afar."

 

The Human female smiled again, a fond expression on her face as she glanced at the Trandoshan, her bronzed face parting to reveal smooth white teeth, "I am Camila the Verruck. The squad's other dedicated rifle."

 

The final occupant stepped back through the door to the front of the shuttle, a grim glare on her face, the horns and tattoos marking her as a Zabrak obvious to all. She stalked toward the newcomer, the other members having fallen silent on her approach. "How can you expect to lead us, Tallin, when you cannot defend yourself?"

 

With a sudden motion, the Zabrak pulled a vibroaxe from behind her, stepping toward Tallin and swinging it at him in close range, her hand choked up on the handle. It froze in place, Tallin snatching her wrist in air, clenching it in a iron grip and putting the vibroblade ever present at his side to her throat, stepping passed the arc of the axe till he stood inches away from her. "I can defend myself, sit the Kriff down before I do something rash."

 

A smile crossed the face of the tall Zabrak female, as she faced him eye to eye. "So I see, perhaps we will get along. Or perhaps not, best watch your back."

 

Camila spoke again, "So that's the squad, we got thrown together from the remains of a couple other squads that got hit hard a few months back."

 

Tallin nodded, surveying the group, "Alright, listen up. We are taking this planet, going to put some order back into the chaos. When we get down to the surface, don't get hit. If you do, don't die."

 

Tallin stepped into position, bracing himself as the shuttle prepared to leave. The Togruta girl, with a slight laugh and a murmur, "Wait, no great inspiring speech about saving people and being the heroes they really need?"

 

"Kriff off."