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Nar Shaddaa - Rebel Alliance Headquarters


Raven Nasra

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Aidan respected Sandy's command of the Force, but as attuned as he was to her he could mostly tell what she was doing just by the feeling. Tricking minds by making them all actively not want to recognize something without giving the effect away obviously was a monumental feat of finesse and willpower. He'd never really measured himself against her before. When she made master he'd subconsciously brushed it off as several others had done as it being a promotion of necessity rather than skill. For some reason Aidan wanted to hold on to the hope of the idea that they were equals; but now? This kind of skill was beyond him, and he knew it. Though he buried them deep, new thoughts were sown inside his mind: fear and awe over her rapid progression in her skill with the Force, and curiosity and mild fear of the unknown over what it meant as it related and reflected back onto him.

 

So to get his mind off things, he instead started talking to his grandmother. "Gramma … I may have lied a bit back there. The truth is, I'm not a hundred percent sure if I like who I am. I'm also still not sure of who I want to be, even though I really feel like I should by now. I've made mistakes, and I don't know if some of them will simply permanently hang over me forever from now on. Mom's probably still going to be a bit pissed at me for even getting into this situation when we get back, not to mention that she may have had to throw around political threats, and you know how she loathes politics." He shifted the topic a bit at the end, away from himself and his last few grains of uncertainty over himself.

 

"But the truth is, I do like who I am now and where I am. And I also fully acknowledge, again, all the people who got me here." This time his gaze shifted slightly to Sandy, who was still focused on her use of the Force. "I guess...I just don't want you to regret any hard choices I know you've made. I heard that in your voice back there. One of the only things that still keeps me going despite intimately knowing my flaws is knowing that I still matter flaws and all to a lot of people, and without those flaws I would be a completely different person. It's still so hard for me to accept that as a part of myself, but if I don't, then the darkness takes me and it all winds up being for nothing anyway. I know I want my life to matter; yours already did whether you can see it in each and every little crack and crevice or not."

 

There was a brief pause as Aidan processed what he'd just said and made a quick realization. "And, uhh, I'm not trying to be condescending or anything, I know you're a full blood Miraluka so maybe you had some Force training and have already heard this and..." Another brief pause, before a large exhale. "You know what? I'm probably just overthinking all this." And with that, Aidan stopped talking, focusing more on helping Misal navigate the rougher terrain.

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On 2/6/2022 at 4:11 AM, Trill Scout Squadron said:

Christoph chuckled gutterally, but before he could snap back, he was cut off by the Corporal, “Which Admiral would that be? So many of those brass-totin’ bozos around.”

 

The Gunnery Sergeant gave Rags a clip with his elbow and jerked his head towards the lift. “We’ll keep working with Captain Tilt and his team. Go see what that is and report back.”

 

Rags nodded, offering a half salute as he shoved the chip in a waist pouch and grasping his gun. He hurried towards the stairs and out of sight, muttering something about wishing he had a bike nearby.

 

”Now, lets say we split up,” Benjamin said turning to Captain Tilt. “Three of you. Three of us. We’re kicking doors on any door that doesn’t get an answer, gotta evac anyone we find, unless they really don’t want to go. Would rather get vaporized.”

 

“Dibs on the funny clone Gunny!” Christoph was quick to pipe up jerking a thumb at Riggs. “We’ll take the next floor down. Beat the Kid to the end too! C’mon” he jerked his head towards the opposite stairway looking at Riggs.

 

Benjmain didnt say much, he just waves the duo off; his only sign of approval. As they disappeared he shook his head. “Captain, shall we finish this floor?” He asked Tilt.

 

”That leaves us,” Steve turned to Thumper. “Floor Five. Don’t worry about Christoph. He is a cowboy.”

 

__________________________________


BENJAMIN & TILT:

 

As the other two duos of soldiers made their way downstairs, Benjamin turned to Tilt, gesturing to a door. “We best get rolling. Christoph and Steve are pretty fast. They enjoy racing, byproduct of the Corps I suppose.”

 

”Huh.” Benjamin pointed to the door of the next apartment. It was cracked open.

 

Beating loudly on the door, Benjamin announced themselves, “Imperial Troops!! If you’re inside come to the door!”

 

”Imperial troops!”

 

Imperial troops! Come to the door!”

 

With no answer, Benjamin nodded to Tilt. “Follow me.”

 

Clasping his weapon, Benjamin shoved the door open and rolled into the room. The barrel of his rifle slicing the pie as he went left, trusting Tilt to go right. The apartment was a disaster. It looked like whoever lived here was unable of throwing out anything. Mixed amongst the smells of trash and rotted food another, fleshly rotting smell seemed to waft from a closed doorway on Tilt’s side of the main room. 
 

Benjamin nodded knowingly to Tilt, ready to follow his lead into the room.

 

It smelled like death.

 

__________________________________

 

RIGGS & RAGS:

 

The sixth floor, one flight down. It took but a minute to get to it. The hallway was empty. Somewhere down the way a holoscreen blared a local Rebel news program. It was audible in the hallway.

 

”Damn it all, some old crone watching the dailies is gonna slow us down buddy.” He remarked cheerfully, if not slightly perturbed at the fact that someone might actually be home in the seemingly empty building. “What say you take those on the left. I’ll take these on the right. Divide and conquer? They teach you clones how to work independently? I ask cause I seen them videos. Thousands of ya’ll eating, training, showering together. Didn’t seem like ya got a lot of privacy.” Even through his helmet, Rags could be heard smiling as he poked the clone. He was looking forward to this. He was sure they’d win.

 

__________________________________

 

KRILST’EVE’NURUODO & THUMPER:
 

Steve led Thumper down the stairwell towards the sixth floor. “How you clones handle building clearing? We are supposed to knock. No answer, we go in. Set to stun. No accidents.”

 

 

Tilt didn't have much time to say who the Admiral was, he simply assumed these fellows were one of Kolchaks squad. That was not the case. Thumper in the meantime had snuck in, not making a noise save for the troops who did see him. He simply awaited further orders, and as the Benjamin suggested a team split between the three boys he only nodded, with what Thumper staying quiet and following Steve, and Riggs racing after Christopher. Maybe after the sweep he would tell the squad leader of who the chip came from? 

_____________________

 

Upon reach their section, Tilt already had his own twin pistols at the ready, he'd set them to stun as to not kill anyone. Sweeps weren't a concept Tilt was used to but it was an easy one to understand. Knock and send people out, he wasn't sure if they had a choice but if so he'd just be doing his job. Tilt only switched from rifle to sidearm for maneuverability and quick use, typical of an ARC Trooper, but it was effective and he was more used to CQC/CQB anyhow so it would benefit the party. 

 

When they reached the door of an apartment the door already was cracked open, and that prompted Tilt to stand behind Benjamin with his pistols aimed on either side of his shoulder. After no answer the lair moved into a filthy building with the smells of old food and whatever else wafting through the air. Tilt switched his stun off and back to blaster mode, ready for anything as the smell of rotted flesh met his nostrils. It was nauseating at best, and when Tilt took the right he turned to two more doors each divided by a bisection. 

 

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Tilt opened the left door however it freaked open into a dark room. Tilt turned the light on which was just to the side of the entrance to reveal a filthy bathroom... And a body. A body hung from a rope from the top of the ceiling, dried and old blood had once flowed from the mouth had stained the old corpse. The smell was strong here, but Tilt ignored it when he cut the rope and let the corpse flop to the floor, he then turned and carefully moved the shower curtain and a swarm of flies rushed out of the shower tub of black liquid. And another body... No, parts. Backing away quickly, Tilt knelt down to inspect the hung corpse to reveal that the throat had been slit before the rope, which he found odd. 

 

<"Gunny, once you're done I strongly suggest you come-"> Tilt's voice through the channel was stopped when he heard a scittering noise in the next room. He quickly rose and raised his pistols, kicking the closed the door twice and yelled aggressively, "Imperial Troops, come out with your hands up!" 

 

No response, all noises stopped stopped immediately, and after a few seconds the Clone Captain kicked in the door revealing another dark room. Turning on his night vision, Tilt could see inside the room almost instantly and carefully stepped in. There was blood everywhere, the stench of rotted flesh was even stronger in here, however that wasn't the situation at hand. The situation was the heavy breath behind Tilt, and when he turned a large black figured screamed in tones and knocked the Clone across the large bed and onto a mass of somethings. He quickly got back up and raised his pistols to find a quickly moving man, pale white with eyes as black as coal already on him. 

 

The man, or creature in question, knocked the Clone against the wall with enough force to crack the drywall before getting a shot into its eye socket. The creature screamed and as Tilt felt himself start to recover the beast picked him up and tried to bite at his side. He could feel needle sharp teeth press and begin to crack the armor, he'd lost his weapons except for one. He pulled his combat knife and drove it into the things back causing it to screech in three tones, before feeling himself launched through a wall and into the main room. 

 

"Gah- F@**!" Tilt shouts as he felt the impact caused him a concussion. Loud and quick booms of footsteps rushed toward the Clone as the massive, pale humanoid thing charged at the trooper, blood covered it's body and black eyes reflected the trooper, pieces of old flesh and metal caught between the razor teeth. His hand landed onto something, and as the beast was upon him Tilt activated his orange lightsaber and cut vertically with decent precision. 

 

The pale creature had been split in half with the saber ending in the floor, both halves fell to the floor as well, and Tilt deactivated the weapon and stood upright. That was until he felt himself collapse against the wall breathing hard, not necessarily from exhaustion but from an ass whipping and everything he'd seen. Well, how was he gonna explain this, as Captain of his squad who was supposed to be level headed and show example? 

__________________________

 

Riggs had been close behind Rags, and as he heard the holoscreen playing down the hall he couldn't help but ask, "This place supposed to be clear, right? Nevermind dumb question."

 

And upon Rags asking Riggs about his independence, he only responded, "Hah! I've always found a way, there's a reason I call my brothers virgins. Especially Thuma'h, he's by the books. I'll tell ya later about it." 

 

Riggs' nodded, although he implied that he had wet his whistle as the saying goes, the pair divided and started to check room after room. Up to the fifth one Riggs gave the usual, "Imperial Troopers," Routine. But the door opened to reveal a Togruta woman who wasn't necessarily dressed appropriately. All of Riggs' weaknesses of an alien woman combined into one, especially with the fishnets, the look she gave however as he stared at him said that there was confusion. The red woman spoke and Riggs snapped out of his trance. 

 

"Sorry, just thinkin' bout someth'," If Riggs could wink he would, but his time and how he said his response made the woman smirk, "Imperial Trooper, yada yada, we're evacuating the building for incoming Sith attack. I don't suppose a lady such as yourself wanna stick around for that-" 

 

"Sis, what's going on? Is it the customer?" Another Togruta popped around the corner, looking identical to the one at the door. Twins! 

 

"My my," Riggs says starting to put on the moves, "I'd hate for heaven to come get two beautiful angels."

 

"No, it's not him, although," She trailed a finger under Riggs helmet which almost drew a shiver, "Tell ya what, slick? We'll evacuate, if you come find us later," The woman slid a card into the Clones ammo pouch on his chest, "We'll make it worth your while at these coordinates, soldier boy." 

 

And with that the door shut, with Riggs hearing the women hurry around in the room, calling out to another fir clothes needed and not needed, he fist pumped with a silent, "Yes!" Before moving into the next set of rooms, which were empty as well... 

__________________________

 

Thumper was with Steve, silent as ever, and had switched his Westar blaster to stun. That was when Steve had asked his question, "Have you clones handle building clearing?" 

 

"I have." Thumper responded in a matching tone.

 

"We are supposed to knock. No answer, we go in. Set to stun. No accidents" 

 

"Understood." And with that, Thumper set his course work quickly and diligently. His speed matched that of Steve's if not a bit more impatient, however he got the job done. Between the three of the, Tilt, Riggs and himself, Thumper was by the books and was extremely efficient with what he did, but sometimes did bend the rules to better help his squad. His training kicked into gear, and he felt like a real clone trooper once more, but ARC Trooper would be stretching it far, he wasn't back to that reconditioning just yet. And he knew if the other brothers ran into CQC they'd be shaky on their abilities as well, being stranded on a planet could do that to you.

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The thud of the drums reverberated in her lungs, echoed in its ferocity by the stamping of the dancing mandalorians. There was evil here. She could feel it in the pits of her stomach, growing with every hammering of the war drums. They worshiped death, they worshiped war, they worshiped destruction. She could see it echoed in the flames. The yellow and orange flames whipped into dancing figures that grew and reduced in a cycle that matched the drums. The embers at the base of the fires glowing like red blood as the figures danced in reckless destruction above them. 

 

Naboo looked like that fire didn’t it? 

 

It was like nothing she had ever experienced. It was haunting in a way. But these men and women danced like the fire itself, blood covering their bodies, reflecting off war paint and tattoos whose meanings the Queen could only guess at. It felt like she stood entranced for hours, watching the flames dance in endless fantasy until she saw the Mandalore. 

 

If there had been a Mandalore in history as fierce and as terrible Anne did not know of them. There had been great names in the annals of a thousand wars. Crusades for gods long dead. Foolish men that fought as mercenaries for men better than themselves. Or for foolish code of honour. But study could not show the reality of the being herself. For this being was violence embodied, a face that carried the scars of a decade of war and the blood of trillions of deaths. The Queen’s breath faltered and the feeling in her stomach became a gnawing hole of dread. 

 

A hand and arm, wet with blood, encircled her thin waist, pressing her close and a cup into her hands. 

 

Perhaps she should have hesitated. That would have been what every queen of the Naboo from eons gone by would have wanted her to do. But Naboo. Its granite halls, great parks, and blissful life were dead. Snuffed from the face of the galaxy at the tip of a tungsten spear and the lightsabers of the Sith Lords. 

 

So when the choice was presented to her she did not hesitate. She did not doubt. She seized the cup and drank it to its last drop. Blood dripping down her chin to splash across the chest of her thin white dress. 

 

In the fire rose a great figure. A god in his glory, purifying the galaxy in a ritual fire. 


The fear in her stomach became a boiling fire of hate, and her voice joined with the Mandalore in the demonic cry of the jai'galaar.

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Queen Namari of the Naboo

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What followed in the next moment, was pure chaos. Benjamin Wood bound into the room after Tilt. “What the …” was all he managed as he raised his carbine. The thing was all over, screeching in agonizing pain. The Scout’s HUD sought to lock onto the target; but avoiding the clone in the rapidly morphing closed environment made that all but impossible. As the beast charges with undiverted zeal towards the clone, the Gunnery Sergeant was able to rake it with his electrobaton as it passed, eliciting an unnatural scream before it fell on Tilt only to be bisected by a glowing orange beam.

 

Bisected the beastly monster fell to the floor, a silence falling over the room. Benjamin looked from the monster to Tilt and back to the monster. Stepping across a pile of trash, the Scout Commander leveled his rifle at the thing’s head. Double tap.

 

”You good?” He offered a hand up to the fallen Tilt ignoring the lightsaber. “Let’s make sure there is nothing else in here. We’ll mark the room for specialist review.”

 

Clearing the room, it became apparent that the beast had been holed up here in the dark for several days or longer. Whoever lived here, dead and decaying, gnawed on by the thing. 
 

“Lets lock the door on our way out.”

 

___________________________
 

Christoph’ search was equally fruitless. “Empty.” He called out dully after each room. 
 

At the end of the hallway he waited for Riggs. Offering a playful nod towards the room he had lingered on. “Making friends eh? Get me a number?” He smiled beneath his helm. Jerking his thumb towards the stairs he added, “Lets get downstairs before Steve and your little bro claim they beat us.”


((messed up my last post. Thisbwas supposed to be Christoph, not Rags! My bad))

___________________________
 

A couple rooms of evacuees were quickly sent scurrying towards the evac point. Steve sighing audible when people tried to tell them they had not been aware of the evacuation orders. “Its not that hard people.” He’d mutter.

 

At the end of the hall, Steve raised the visor on his helmet revealing his intense red eyes offset by his icy blue skin. “Next floor? Show Christoph and Riggs we’re twice as fast?”

 

___________________________
 

Rags hurried down the stairs and the street at a brisk jaunt. Back at the evac ships he veered towards the left where the Squad’s four speeder bikes sat. With a scan, the Corporal unlocked his bike and hopped aboard, the engine whining to life beneath his expertise. Instantly the craft shot down the street at breakneck speed towards an Imperial command structure.

 

Hurrying inside, Rags keyed in to a secure computer and plugged in the datachip. Instantly an entire schematic appeared on the blued screen, lines of data detailing criminal and Imperial histories, dossiers, and photos. Aquos Krill II, his wife, Nilná and three squidlings ages 5, 6, and 14. All five were Quarren evacuees of Mon Cal after the reclamation of the world from Sith forces. Aquos had been a former electronics engineer who had worked closely for and under Krath Apothos. He had been determined to have given material aid to the enemy; but it was noted he had seemingly done so under duress. His family a key factor in his suspended sentence. He had claimed the Sith Lord had threatened to subject them to numerous Sith sorceries had he not complied. They had been evacuated to Nar Shaddaa after giving a full report of their activities to Imperial agents. Aquos was tasked with infrastructure support on Nar Shadda, his wife serving in the Refugee Library. Now, Imperial Intelligence had found that both had been using their positions to provide infrastructure schematics and reports of rebel strengths to Sith forces offworld via unauthorized comms as well as  indoctrination of youth by providing them with Sith literatures and instruction.

 

Orders straight from Vice Admiral Nikolai Kolchak. Eliminate the adults and teenager, deposit the younger children at an Imperial orphanage. It looked lime they were housed just outside the current evacuation zone. Trill Scout Squadron was to provide support to the clones and ensure that the mission was carried out.

 

Transferring only the needed information and photos to his helmet HUD, Rags ejected the chip, snapping it in half. He stood and returned to his bike. He tossed the broken pieces opposite directions in the street.

 

”Meet me back at the bikes. New orders.” He growled into his comms to the others.

 

___________________________
 

Benjamin, Christoph, and Steve all nodded giving an affirmative as they received Rags’ comm. Turning to their clone compatriots they explained in their own way that they had new orders and needed to fall back to the evac point where the Scouts’ bikes were secured.

 

They arrived shortly after Rags rolled up on his 74-Z speeder bike. Rags sat on his bike waiting as the other six strolled up.

 

”What’ve we got Rags?” Benjamin asked, all business. The other two Scouts remained silent. 
 

“Intel reports five squidheads, three kids. Material aid and espionage. Sith Forces. Eliminate the adults and teen. Dump the kids at the orphanage.” Reaching up, Rags fiddled with a knob on the side of his helmet. “Beaming photos and names to all your HUDs. Trill provides support to,” he jerked. his head at the clones.

 

”Understood.” Christoph growled, any sense of playfulness gone staring down  the barrel of a serious task.

 

”Gunny,” Steve began, looking towards his leader. 
 

The Scout Squad leader waves his hand, cutting Steve off. “Standard operating procedures gentlemen.” He instructed, reaching up and pulling his helmet off. The other three Scouts did the same, resting their buckets against their hips.

 

”All comms are recorded.” Benjamin stated matter-of-factly.

 

”Somewhere,” Christoph added sarcastically.

 

”Look.” Rags interjected looking towards Tilt, then Riggs, then Thumper. “This conversation is off the record. Pull your buckets off.”

 

 

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Benjamin Wood

Ragnar Kran
Christoph Sokol

Krilst’eve’nuruodo

 

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((For @Aidan Darkfireand @Sandy Sarna))

 

Far in the distance, Aidan’s mother could still be heard dispensing orders. Most of the words echoed indistinctly against the walls of the maglev tunnel, then were completely obliterated when the Jedi Grandmaster boarded a 

 

Far in the distance, Aidan’s mother could still be heard dispensing orders. Most of the words echoed indistinctly against the walls of the maglev tunnel, then were completely obliterated when the Jedi Grandmaster boarded a small speeder bike. Within seconds, the roar of its engines carried past the returning infiltrators and deep into the pitch-dark of the tunnels… but not before Armiena gave Misal a wide-eyed double-take and her lips formed the syllables of an obscene expression of bewilderment.

 

“You will live with every error and success that you,” Misal paused and smiled as the whine of the Jedi Grandmaster’s speeder bike zipped past and drowned out her soft voice. “That you have ever committed. Your mother was a very different person when she was around your age, a little younger. She was… wrathful. Angry at the galaxy and desiring to visit her pain on her enemies. Her life would likely be very different had she not had friends able to recognize what she was doing to herself. Wanton slaughter is not the kind of error that one can easily repair, but…

 

As the three Force-Sensitives approached the staging area of men and munitions, the Miraluka took a deep breath and her hands fidgeted within the sleeves of her robe. Her Force-Presence began to fade; even her personage seemed to fade into the darkness of the tunnel. Had the dark-robed woman not been speaking just in front of Aidan Darkfire, her presence would have been quite unremarkable, barely even worthy of being considered.

 

“Doubt, in these instances, is no vice. Refusing to re-examine an episode of such magnitude would be a terrible mistake. In the future, it may be necessary for you to remove yourself from those with the ability to use your errors against you.”

 

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“The galaxy needs us, they need their Jedi Master and their Empress.” She looked up at him, her deep amethyst eyes staring into his dark eyes. She reached up a hand and unbuttoned the topmost button on her uniform. Her eyes never left his as she reached for the next button. Her other hand still holding his.

 

“But perhaps we can leave both of those roles behind. If only for a moment.” 

 

And she knew that whatever blissful peace they would find in the next few minutes or hours it would not be lasting. For there was always another thousand things to do, another hundred horizons to see. But for now, she was his. 

 

“And once this is all at its bitter end, I will leave the crown behind.”

 

She put one foot out and placed it onto one of the chairs, hauling herself to eye level with the Wookiee Jedi Master. Where she finally kissed him.

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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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Sandy slowly walked behind the Grandmother and Grandson duo. Her concentration equally divided between the tasks of disguising them from any errant patrols, and hoping that Aidan was taking his Grandmother’s advice. He was a good man, and one that had the opportunity to become the one that fully redeemed the Darkfire lineage. Not to mention keeping the Imperial Knights from becoming a Revanchist group. Instead focusing them away from their eternal hatred of the Sith and into a fight for peace and justice instead of death and violence. 

 

She loved him dearly, but there was something self destructive in him that she could not quite pin down. So while they finally finished their trek Sandy kept her eyes on the back of his head. Saying silent prayers.

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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On 2/11/2022 at 6:30 AM, Trill Scout Squadron said:

What followed in the next moment, was pure chaos. Benjamin Wood bound into the room after Tilt. “What the …” was all he managed as he raised his carbine. The thing was all over, screeching in agonizing pain. The Scout’s HUD sought to lock onto the target; but avoiding the clone in the rapidly morphing closed environment made that all but impossible. As the beast charges with undiverted zeal towards the clone, the Gunnery Sergeant was able to rake it with his electrobaton as it passed, eliciting an unnatural scream before it fell on Tilt only to be bisected by a glowing orange beam.

 

Bisected the beastly monster fell to the floor, a silence falling over the room. Benjamin looked from the monster to Tilt and back to the monster. Stepping across a pile of trash, the Scout Commander leveled his rifle at the thing’s head. Double tap.

 

”You good?” He offered a hand up to the fallen Tilt ignoring the lightsaber. “Let’s make sure there is nothing else in here. We’ll mark the room for specialist review.”

 

Clearing the room, it became apparent that the beast had been holed up here in the dark for several days or longer. Whoever lived here, dead and decaying, gnawed on by the thing. 
 

“Lets lock the door on our way out.”

 

___________________________
 

Christoph’ search was equally fruitless. “Empty.” He called out dully after each room. 
 

At the end of the hallway he waited for Riggs. Offering a playful nod towards the room he had lingered on. “Making friends eh? Get me a number?” He smiled beneath his helm. Jerking his thumb towards the stairs he added, “Lets get downstairs before Steve and your little bro claim they beat us.”


((messed up my last post. Thisbwas supposed to be Christoph, not Rags! My bad))

___________________________
 

A couple rooms of evacuees were quickly sent scurrying towards the evac point. Steve sighing audible when people tried to tell them they had not been aware of the evacuation orders. “Its not that hard people.” He’d mutter.

 

At the end of the hall, Steve raised the visor on his helmet revealing his intense red eyes offset by his icy blue skin. “Next floor? Show Christoph and Riggs we’re twice as fast?”

 

___________________________
 

Rags hurried down the stairs and the street at a brisk jaunt. Back at the evac ships he veered towards the left where the Squad’s four speeder bikes sat. With a scan, the Corporal unlocked his bike and hopped aboard, the engine whining to life beneath his expertise. Instantly the craft shot down the street at breakneck speed towards an Imperial command structure.

 

Hurrying inside, Rags keyed in to a secure computer and plugged in the datachip. Instantly an entire schematic appeared on the blued screen, lines of data detailing criminal and Imperial histories, dossiers, and photos. Aquos Krill II, his wife, Nilná and three squidlings ages 5, 6, and 14. All five were Quarren evacuees of Mon Cal after the reclamation of the world from Sith forces. Aquos had been a former electronics engineer who had worked closely for and under Krath Apothos. He had been determined to have given material aid to the enemy; but it was noted he had seemingly done so under duress. His family a key factor in his suspended sentence. He had claimed the Sith Lord had threatened to subject them to numerous Sith sorceries had he not complied. They had been evacuated to Nar Shaddaa after giving a full report of their activities to Imperial agents. Aquos was tasked with infrastructure support on Nar Shadda, his wife serving in the Refugee Library. Now, Imperial Intelligence had found that both had been using their positions to provide infrastructure schematics and reports of rebel strengths to Sith forces offworld via unauthorized comms as well as  indoctrination of youth by providing them with Sith literatures and instruction.

 

Orders straight from Vice Admiral Nikolai Kolchak. Eliminate the adults and teenager, deposit the younger children at an Imperial orphanage. It looked lime they were housed just outside the current evacuation zone. Trill Scout Squadron was to provide support to the clones and ensure that the mission was carried out.

 

Transferring only the needed information and photos to his helmet HUD, Rags ejected the chip, snapping it in half. He stood and returned to his bike. He tossed the broken pieces opposite directions in the street.

 

”Meet me back at the bikes. New orders.” He growled into his comms to the others.

 

___________________________
 

Benjamin, Christoph, and Steve all nodded giving an affirmative as they received Rags’ comm. Turning to their clone compatriots they explained in their own way that they had new orders and needed to fall back to the evac point where the Scouts’ bikes were secured.

 

They arrived shortly after Rags rolled up on his 74-Z speeder bike. Rags sat on his bike waiting as the other six strolled up.

 

”What’ve we got Rags?” Benjamin asked, all business. The other two Scouts remained silent. 
 

“Intel reports five squidheads, three kids. Material aid and espionage. Sith Forces. Eliminate the adults and teen. Dump the kids at the orphanage.” Reaching up, Rags fiddled with a knob on the side of his helmet. “Beaming photos and names to all your HUDs. Trill provides support to,” he jerked. his head at the clones.

 

”Understood.” Christoph growled, any sense of playfulness gone staring down  the barrel of a serious task.

 

”Gunny,” Steve began, looking towards his leader. 
 

The Scout Squad leader waves his hand, cutting Steve off. “Standard operating procedures gentlemen.” He instructed, reaching up and pulling his helmet off. The other three Scouts did the same, resting their buckets against their hips.

 

”All comms are recorded.” Benjamin stated matter-of-factly.

 

”Somewhere,” Christoph added sarcastically.

 

”Look.” Rags interjected looking towards Tilt, then Riggs, then Thumper. “This conversation is off the record. Pull your buckets off.”

 

 

 

"Yeah..." Tilt says taking the man's hand and steadying himself, clipping the saber hilt to his side, "It's a massacre, I've seen other Clones blown to bits or chopped up but this? This is pure sickness, pure evil... Let's just get this over with, yeah?" 

 

Checking the rest of the building, Tilt has locked the door behind him, and a little shook up he instead used the opportunity to kick him back into his training; continuing to check rooms with the Gunnery Sargeant. He would need something strong after seeing what he saw, not necessarily to forget anything but to steel himself in the horrors of the Galaxy. He just happened to stumble upon one. 

 

________________________

 

Riggs had caught up to Christopher after checking more rooms. He was a bit behind on time he realized but the kid seemed more interested in what had transpired a moment ago. With a grin Chris couldn't see, Riggs replied, "Oh, just the usual greetings. Have the card, I memorized the numbers." 

 

The Clone then slipped Christopher the card for the two women, realizing it was a special "premium experience" that very few had a luxury of receiving. Though it was costly, Riggs had his ways for bartering and not having to pay for certain thingsHe pushed forward and says, "Sharing is caring, if ya' hang with me kid, you can pick up a few things." 

 

_______________

 

Fast, efficient, and effective were the third brother Thumper. His speed and protocol was quick just as Steve's, and he only ran into two individuals who weren't aware of the evacuation. The first was a father of two who calmly took the information but left his door open so they could start setting luggage out the hall for quick pickup. The second was an old man, frail and scrawny, and extremely rude and loud, he screamed through the door, "Ah waz bourn in this hole, ah'll dieh in this hole!" 

 

"I hate people." Thumper muttered before moving onto the last door, and after nothing had joined Steve who too had finished. He nodded, getting ready for the next round until his comms came alive. 

 

Moving out with the rest of Trill squad and meeting up at the speeder bikes. The vibe went from a feel-good to a punch in the gut. Two adults and a teen, dump the kids at the orphanage. That made the Clone Captain clench his right fist tightly. Tilt was no stranger to putting down an person or two, it was something that happened rarely during the Clone Wars, but were necessary. It wasn't the fact he, and his brothers, were killing, it was the sheer fact they were eliminating an adolescent and abandoning two children. It was something he had signed up for but this... Particular mission was not something he was ready for. 

 

"All's fair in love and war, Tilt," Thumper whispered to his Captain who had known Tilt all too well, "It could be worse. What's more important, a few lives or several hundred?" Whether or not Thumper was heard was irrelevant, it did the job. 

 

That was what made Tilt dial in his senses, and retract several morals. Upon the order, the three removed their helms with all three Clones having neutral expressions, Riggs especially fighting the hard gaze on his face. 

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All four scouts had the same grim look on their faces. They knew the task assigned them and it was not to their liking.

 

Krilst’eve’nuruodo was the first to speak, his voice a low harsh whisper. He jerked his head towards Thumper as he did. “What he said. Orders are orders.”

 

“You all know the game. We’ve got orders. Rules are rules.” Benjamin spoke, his voice a loud whisper as well. At that Rags fired up his speeder bike the loud engine roaring to life at a high idle. It purred loudly, hungering for speed. All four scout troopers set their helmets firmly atop the rumbling rocket powered engine and stepped several paces away. Christoph motioned for the clones to do the same. “Look.” Benjamin hissed. “You’ve got to be able to sleep with yourself at night.” He looked straight into Tilt’s taut face.

 

“Didn’t sign up to kill no kids.” Rags grumbled, the anger in his voice apparent. He kicked a loose stone on the ground that skittered away without any discernible sound, drown out by the bike’s idling engine. Steve and Christoph shook their heads in agreement with the sentiment. Steve nodding in the affirmative, neither had he. Christoph shaking his head; he wasn’t about to go on a child-killing mission either if he could help it.

 

”We’ve gotten these types of orders before, so have you judging by your faces. If double I wants to run wet work. That ain’t our business. But we’re soldiers not assassins.” Christoph began, watching the clones for any sign or reaction.

 

”We’ve performed hits before.” Steve began before he was cut off by Christoph again.
 

“But we don’t kill kids or dump them at orphanages on worlds about to get nuna-kicked into the next dimension. Whats done is done. They’ll need to pay for that.”

 

“Which is why we’ve got courts,” Rags added grimly. “Any chance on a transport?” He asked shooting a glance to Benjamin who slowly shook his head no. “Damn.”

 

”Those Sith are wiley critters.” Christoph analyzed. “You boys ever go toes with one back in the day? They mess with your head.”

 

”And you do what you have to protect your family.” Steve nodded.

 

Cutting off the chatter, Benjamin stood up a little straighter. “I think what the boys are saying is this kind of work gets ugly, fast. Sometimes accidents happen.” He gingerly tapped the slew of grenades on his waistline as he said that. “Its up to you lot though. This is your mission. We’re providing perimeter and situational security. We wouldn’t want you to make any mistakes.” Benjamin canted his head, giving the others a knowing look.

 

”Heard the Corellian was in town, making some quick bucks before. I’d bet he has got a few slots available.” Steve pined into the air as he leaned back against the wall and eyed the skyline high above.

 

 

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Benjamin Wood

Ragnar Kran
Christoph Sokol

Krilst’eve’nuruodo

 

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The Clones followed suit by setting their helmets on the speeder, while the equipment had vibrated they didn't move from their spots. It wasn't an easy situation, and the problems would be made difficult with the children involved. Tilt was first to speak, he crossed his arms and stated in a loud whisper as he stepped away, "I'm not saying I won't sleep at night. We've had to clear organs from our visors of our fallen brothers, I've seen entire villages burned and even children's bodies when the Republic never made it in time against the CIS. I've seen and done things that would make any man restless at night, a missions a mission, regardless of how we feel." 

 

"I'm not going to pull the trigger on a kid, let alone a teen." Riggs openly interjects. 

 

"If the kid just turned it's one thing, but think of it this way, that one could be another agent in training, they could have all the information the Sith needs and carry out their mission with no hesitation. It's a security risk, Riggs, and I would think you know that too." Tilt had shot back, though his voice clearly carried an uneasiness about it, his expression was stone cold. 

 

Riggs shook his head and started to pace slightly. Thumper had said nothing and his expression was void of any emotion. The only hint to what he was feeling were the tapping of his right foot, and Tilt took note of Chris's question and before he came up with an honest answer Benjamin had cut the talk. The Clone Captain had no good feelings about it, but like he said, a mission was a mission. He would consider the Mantis as a source of transportation however they would need the element of surprise so a light freighter hauling in the area may not have been the best choice. 

 

Tilt nodded and said, "We'll get the job done. Take out the three, drop off the two. If we can get the drop on 'em that would be better, and I think we'd need flashbangs or concussions for this one. We can use the Mantis for transport. Or..." 

 

Tilt looks to Thumper than Riggs who raised his brow, then back to the Trill squad, and says, "Thumper knows how to temporarily muddle comms, frequent and recorded in your gear, if it comes to that. I trust and don't trust Intel, lord forbid we had very strong leads way back when and it landed us in a bigger problem. I want to know more, question, interrogate. I wish we could do algorithm tests, but the closest we got is-" Tilt jerked a thumb to Thumper, "Thumper here can tell who lies, and yes, by just looking at them. Mannerisms, expressions, the whole nine yards, I don't want to kill if we don't have to, however I want to leave this decision to you. I trust my brothers' decisions, so the moment he shoots someone without warning that's when you do too. He's... Unpredictable. But we'll need more info before going in and doing whatever, I assume you had that from the Intel?"

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Kirlocca watched her slowly as Raven made herself comfortable. Her undoing her buttons was the display of comfort, all the while still holding onto his own hand. He kept his eyes locked upon her eyes, they almost glistened as he stared into them for a moment. He only broke the eye contact upon her kissing him. The wetness of her lips made him realize how long he had starved himself of any self wants. He pulled her in tighter as the kiss lingered for longer than a few seconds. Upon the kiss ending, he let both of his arms slowly put her down on the floor. 

 

<< For whatever the Force has to offer us, both in this moment and afterwards. You have me. >> 

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“What else is there to know?” Steve asked, his voice coming across more harshly than he intended, exposing his emotional internal response beneath his cool blue facade. “Their spies. They help the Sith. Kid might be in on it. We kill the parents and fourteen year old, cart the five and six year olds to be raised in squalor at either a dumpy underfunded flea-house or dumped into a military camp and brainwashed; you’d,” Benjamin cut him off before he could complete the comment, knowing he was about to relate it the clones own unique upbringing. The Chiss was hot; that was enough to tell. Not much rattled the youngest member of the Trill Scout Squadron.

 

With hand hand on Steve’s shoulder, Benjamin turned to Rags. “Anything else in that report you can share with us Rags? What might be being implied might be a hard lot for these boys to swallow. 
 

Rags pursed his lips, his eyes narrowing as he took in the three clones. “You know you gotta have clearance for that Gunny. Even you don’t have the level I do for some of this stuff.”

 

”I know, but still. Something to put their mind at ease.”

 

”Alright Gunny,” Rags sighed, lowering his arms from the balled fists he had at waist level. He motioned for the group to crowd in closer until their shoulders were touching and their armor clunked against one another. Then he whispered, “Before they were evacuated here, the husband and wife were implicated in aiding the Sith occupation. Said they were threatened with Sith sorcery.”

 

“Ah. Mon Cal.” Christoph nodded leaning his head toward Thumper. “Never thought I’d have a stoplight try to eat my brain in a blizzard but there we were.”

 

Benjamin nodded, “Undead fish.” He added pointing from Christoph to Rags.”

 

”Yeah. Sith sorcery,” Rags confirmed. “Worked with Navy Intelligence and in turn got digs here in the slums instead of the brig. He works in infrastructure, engineering. She is in the Library. Not much on the kids. Supposedly they’re indoctrinating other kids and beaming schematics off world to someone. Navy says the three have got to go.”

 

Benjamin and the others nodded before he turned to Tilt, the leader of the clone trio. “We’re providing support. Sounds like this is your op. First one? Might be a test. We will follow your lead.” His eyes drifted to the men under his command who slowly nodded. “But if they’re monitoring,” he pointed towards the sky, “jamming frequencies for more than a minute gets dangerous. Equipment gets checked. Missions get reviewed. We’ve got your back.” 
 

Christoph pulled a sonic grenade from his belt and held it offeringly to Riggs. Raising his eyebrow, a smile cracked his stern demeanor. “Hurts like hell, but it sure wankers up microphones for a bit.”

 

”Not sure what else I can tell you ablut them,” Rags interjected. “They’re holed up just outside the evac zone, about eighteen blocks that way,” he pointed back the way the group had come. “Twelfth floor, southeast corner. Seven floors from the top. Building has got a security officer manning the locked door.”

 

”Barred windows?” Steve asked.

 

”Wouldn’t have it any other way.” Rags responded sarcastically. “Secured dumpy housing. No evac orders there yet so it’ll be occupied.”

 

”Probably full, unless some have self-evacuated this direction. We can take care of the guard though.” Steve added seriously.

 

”What are you thinking?” Benjamin asked looking to the clones. “You call the shots. We’ll do what needs done. Nobody escapes the perimeter ‘til your safely out.”

 

 

 

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Benjamin Wood

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Christoph Sokol

Krilst’eve’nuruodo

 

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Now many kilometers away, Armiena Draygo screamed through the underground tunnels on wings of steel. The motion-sensing spotlights had long since faded and the tunnels had been bathed in almost complete darkness; now, the Jedi Grandmaster navigated purely on sensor data, scant reflections from the speeder bike’s searchlights, Force-enabled instincts and desperation. At a velocity of hundreds of kilometers per hour, the wind against her unarmored neck rasped like sandpaper and hammered at the Imperial breastplate; her unprotected eyes streamed with tears and she squinted half-lidded through the darkness. Draygo was continually bombarded by a riot of sound: the wind, the scream of the bike’s engines.

 

But it was a good pain. The flight took on an almost meditative quality, as Draygo was able to focus solely on the harrowing task of not plowing the speeder bike into the duracrete walls. It gave her an opportunity on the simple task of rescuing two missing scout troopers–and hopefully clearing the evacuation route that they were supposed to have reconnoitered, one of many that would allow for the evacuation of thousands of military personnel. The imminent threat of collision drove some of her focus away from looming threat of Sith invasion… and the fact that her tactical decisions were almost certainly going to result in the deaths of many thousands of sapients. Many of them would be innocent civilians who were going to get trapped in brutal urban warfare.

 

It was a cold calculation that the Jedi Grandmaster had made: to trade an incomplete evacuation and a bloody, decisive massacre of support personnel for an incomplete evacuation and a bloody, grinding battle of attrition across Nar Shaddaa’s unnavigable cityscape. But it was impossible to calculate which would be worse, impossible to determine the value of a sapient life, impossible to keep score. To even attempt to decide which lives were more valuable--which fate was more horrible--was an exercise in madness.

 

In reality, of course, it was impossible to not dwell on the inevitable slaughter, even traveling at speed that would cause a collision to render her to a heap of twisted metal and boney salsa.

 

One of the two scout troopers slammed on his airbrakes and allowed the Jedi to catch up. Despite being within an arm’s reach, the white-clad trooper needed to shout to make himself heard over the echoes of the engines. “Grandmaster! Everything alright back there! You’re falling back a bit!” 

 

Armiena forced a grin and returned the shout in a mocking tone. “So it can go faster!”

 

A hard shove against the footrests engaged the speeder’s afterburner, causing the suicidally-light vehicle to blast forward at such an energy that Draygo might as well have been accelerating from a standstill. At this speed, searchlights were useless–even the high-beams were only affording her about half a second of visibility. Something slashed a tear in her left sleeve; the Jedi Grandmaster steadfastly ignored it and just sank deeper into her trance within The Force, preferring to ignore the pain of dust blowing into her eyes, the wind blasting against her unprotected neck, and even the urgent blips of the scout bike’s sensors when they detected the transponders of the missing two troopers.

 

And then it occurred to her–that scout trooper that was keeping perfect pace next to her, barely two meters off her flank was flying solely by instrumentation.

 

The Imperial scouts were a strange breed.

 

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Beck walked through the halls of HQ, slowly taking in and observing all of the chaos that seemed to be the evacuation. Some of his own command were busy with what they had been assigned, yet some were not on point and quickly moved into action upon seeing their Admiral walk the floor. There were plenty of others not within his command that were goofing off, but he decided to not be that person while walking the halls. As he turned a corner, there stood Allidar Sowephil, the young girl he accepted into his command looking rather confused. With a orotund voice, he spoke up. "Recruit Sowephil, you seem to be lost." Allidar jumped at the sound of his voice and turned, quickly giving a salute. After he returned it, she looked at him and the hallway frantically. "Sir, I don't know exactly what our job is during an evacuation. My commanding officer just told me to begin evacuation duty in wing 7." Beck rolled his eyes at the fact that another one of his junior officers was not fully doing their job. He'd have to address it later. 

 

"Evacuation duty means helping getting important files and equipment loaded onto vessels. If not assigned to that, you're generally working with the public helping them find where they should be going. Your commanding officer is in the wrong here. Wing 7 has nothing that needs to be evacuated by lower level personnel." There was a clear look of shame upon her face, along with a minor hint of fear. His reputation of being the stern Admiral was in full swing. He looked away from her and at the doorway that lead outside to the main skyway ramp to the civilian area. "It sounds like the docks are being congested." Without warning, he began to walk towards the door with great long strides that would make it hard for many civilians to keep up. He turned mid walk and motioned for her to follow. "Come Sowephil. I could use your help and properly show you what your duty is."

 

He walked out of the door, the footsteps of Allidar behind him, only to have the swelling sounds of people in chaos attempting to find their way to the docks through the lines being forged, along with ships slowly getting people on them. Very few personnel were outside working the lines. Damn officers not leading...  He turned and looked at Allidar. "When you are put in charge of squads, you are to lead them. Leading is not the same as commanding. What you see before you is the result of a few officers commanding. When you ever get promoted in the future... lead or it'll be the last time you're in command under me." He then walked forward and found a spot to stand upon and climbed up, allowing for his voice to boom as loudly as he could make it. 

 

"Attention. You are being evacuated for your own safety. The war is on it's way here. We will get you on a vessel and to safety, but only if you cooperate. We are limited on our troops to help move and facilitate the lines. Because of this, I am asking for your cooperation in helping us form correct lines. As our troops move through, if they ask for paperwork, show it to them. This isn't for hassling purposes, but to make sure we have an accurate headcount. Form the lines as directed. Any complaints or concerns can be directed at me. I will be walking the lines to help ensure everyone is doing okay." He then turned towards Allidar. "Sowephil, aid them in form the lines." After he spoke to her, he climbed down and moved his way towards the front of the lines so that he could be present to calm the fears and the chaos that was allowed to get to the level it was at. 

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Many things in life are hard to accept. Most beings have the luxury of ignorance, simply living their lives as it comes. They are unconcerned with the greater cosmic truths, nervously putting thoughts of death's certainty out of sight and mind. Those who were called on by the Force were never afforded such comforts. The truths of the galaxy were laid bare before them, hideous and beautiful all at once and still well beyond mortal comprehension most of the time. This truth sometimes drove Jedi to darkness and Sith to madness, but that did not change it.

 

Aidan wanted to deny what was happening, what every sense of his screamed as he slowly had to put more and more muscle into holding his grandmother upright. She was dying. She likely had been terminal for some time and was hiding it well. Thoughts of fear and panic flashed through his mind, but a new voice whispered among the doubts. Let go.

 

"I..."

 

His voice trailed off as his words caught in his throat. 

 

"I love you, grandma. Thank you for everything you've done for me. I'm going to make you proud."

His father, Master Kyrie, Sandy, and now some false idealized version of himself. He was always comparing himself, stacking himself against the world. In the back of his mind a lot of things he'd learned as a kid from the Jedi started to make a lot more sense. Perfection was never the goal. To strive for it was a virtue, to obsess was to invite ruin, and Aidan had certainly become obsessed with proving to himself that he was worth his own self esteem. It felt as if a great weight had been lifted from his shoulders, and his mind became clearer.

 

Misal had passed the torch, pouring her own life into it in order to keep it lit. Now it was Aidan's turn to run with it, and he would not be alone without her. Reaching out through the Force, he lent her what he could of his own strength using some of the healing techniques Sandy had once taught him, easing her pain and soothing her fatigue.

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"And who tha fu-" Riggs almost went ballistic on Steve, he wasn't the brightest but he wasn't some idiot either and figured out pretty quick what he was about to say. However Riggs was immediately cut off when Tilt thumped the Sargeant's chest plate with a hard fist and kept it there. 

 

Riggs looked bewildered at the stoic expression of his Captain, but Tilt calmly said, "Step back Riggs. Don't make this an order." 

 

The Sergeant looked to the blue bastard then back to his Captain before huffing and harshly stating, closer to Tilt's face with a thumb pointed upward at his own face, "I ain't killing no kids, Tilt! Orders or no, we ain't the rest of 'em dogs!" 

 

Once the clone Sergeant stepped away Tilt sighed, hearing any information of the AO. Run down, dingy, barred windows and high possibility of the building being full. Great. Tilt turned to the rest of the men and says, "Give me a second." 

 

Tilt jerked his head to Thumper toward Riggs who was a few feet away. The two went to the Clone who was now pacing back and forth, clearly unsettled by something which was quite obvious as to what it was. Despite their need to follow orders, purely bred for war, and whatever else these Clones had their own personalities, their morals and thoughts, their own sense of honor. However never before did they kill adolescents. Unlike the other troops it was something that went against sone form of moral code the Clones had, it wasn't an easy choice. 

 

"We go in and clean up. Three targets. Drop the kids off." Tilt says, wanting to put an end to this. 

 

"How can you say that?!" Riggs exclaimed with a look of shock, "We can't just kill a kid who hasn't had their lives filled out, we can't-" 

 

"Riggs, Riggs!" Thumper, of all people started to interrupt, normally allowing Tilt to handle the more "emotional" aspects of their job, in this case Thumper was the one to jump in, "We've no choice. Look, I don't like it either, alright, no of us do- not even that squad we're teamed with. This isn't a matter of, "Orders are orders," This is a matter of letting one trained individual go who is young, or allowing more people to be harmed. Bear in mind, the news feed I read stated

 Mon Cal was destroyed from the Sith. If they are arriving here, imagine the further damage they could do using children, teenagers. Just... Stop and think about it, alright?" 

 

Tilt and Thumper waited for a literal minute while Riggs paced around, the two turning back and the Clone Captain saying, "No... I want to give these people a chance. We'll head in, see if... We can't talk to then-" Tilt shot a glance at the Chiss then to their own squad leader, "We know how dangerous the situation is, just going in there like that to get whatever we need. But honestly I'm almost considering doing what orders state, despite how we feel. Sith magic or not, we can't allow those who would endanger the people a whole get away, no telling how many lives they'd let die. I would ask for advice but I have a feeling I know what it'll be." 

 

Tilt then turned to a returning Riggs, whose expression seemed hardened. He wasn't happy. The Clone Captain said, "What say you? Thumper's made up his mind." 

 

"Giving them a chance would give them an upper hand, we could be killed of we go in for a simple talk... You suck. I'll follow your lead, sir, but the first sign of danger and I'm blastin'. I'm not even sure if we can even save 'em. Let's get this over with." 

 

Tilt then turned back to the squad and says, "Alright, let's get this show on the road. I don't wanna spend too much time doing this."

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((For @Sandy Sarnaand @Aidan Darkfire))

 

At last, Aidan understood. Perhaps her grandson didn’t quite accept the undeniable truth of her mortality, but the young man finally stopped evading the facts and confronted them outright. In truth, Misal’s condition had been terminal for a very long time–before Aidan had even reached adulthood–and was the result of poorly-healed wounds, resurgent cancers, and time. That was an injury that no medicine or healer had the capacity to treat.

 

When the freight turbolifts to the ground level of the Red and Black finally opened, the sliding doors disgorged a platoon of marines and a small speeder so overloaded with missile launchers and other heavy weapons that it rode notably lower to the ground than typical. Misal let out a low sigh and allowed herself to be led to the side to allow their passage; her Force-presence diminished, the weight of her being in The Force stilled to the point that she was lost in the urgency of soldiers preparing for battle. Even her appearance–and the Miraluka were uncommon enough that their presence was only unremarkable among the Jedi–seemed drab and plain. She seemed to be a blind woman dressed in a practical cloak, not worth noting in comparison to the Jedi Master and Imperial Knight.

 

After the throng had passed and the three were able to make their ascent into the Rebel Headquarters, Misal finally let down her guard and released her grip over her own Force-presence. The Miraluka was more than exhausted; she was weary, the kind of oppressive fatigue that would render her utterly ineffective. This time, she accepted the buoy of the two younger Force-sensitives with gratitude.

 

“I believe that the technical term for my condition, one that your healers steadfastly refuse to use, is that I’m dying. I prefer to think of it as epilogue. A conclusion to this story, and with some luck a satisfactory one.

 

“I love you, Aidan. Please don’t concern yourself overly with my condition. As for… yes, I will need some rest, to meet the coming days.”

 

The Miraluka adjusted her to meet the jolt of the tubrolift’s brakes, and the three were greeted with the same sight that they had met in the tunnels: more sapients, more ammunition. Some of those beings were evacuating the base for other fronts, but many of them were redeploying across the moon.

 

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The tension was thick as the scouts regarded the clones, processing their decision, divided as it may be. They too were soldiers, so when Gunnery Sergeant Woods, nodded curtly and spoke, the others knew the conversation was over. “So be it.”

 

The four scouts walked stiffly over towards the grumbling speeder bike and grabbed their helmets. Slipping his back on, Rags turned to the clones as he tapped the transponder to beam schematics of the apartment complex to  Tilt. “Eighteen blocks,” he pointed down the toad away from the evacuation zone. “Southeast corner. Twelfth floor.”

 

”We’ve got the security officer.” Steve interjected his voice cold and all business as he swung a leg up over his own speeder and brought it to life with a roar.

 

The others quickly mounted their own bikes as they roared to life. Keying the comms, Benjamin tuned in to his own squad as well as the clones, “We’ll make sure nobody gets in or out. You clones handle your business. Any third-party casualties we report directly to the Commandant.”

 

With a deafening roar, the bikes accelerated rapidly down the narrow meandering roadways towards the edge of the evacuation zone leaving the clones to find their own way to the mission zone.

 

”Three hours.” Rags growled into his mic. That was all the time they had to secure the objectives before Navy Intelligence sent in their own clean up team. Not that the scouts would not enjoy seeing what might happen to those who failed their missions. They had done a lengthy stint at an outpost on some no name frigid world in fringes of the Outer Rim too.

 

Switching over to squad only comms, the Scouts quickly determined a course of action. Coming to a stop around the corner several blocks from the target, the bikes dropped to an idle. 
 

“Clones. As soon as you are ready to move, we’ll take care of the guard.” Steve growled switching over to the group comms again.

 

Once the clones were in place, it was time to act. Time and speed were of the essence. Both of these were traits held by the Scouts in spades. Revving their bikes, the four scouts pulled out into the roadway and accelerated towards the apartment, the Imperial Alliance designated doorman standing at the entryway. As the engines echoed amongst the tall buildings, the guard stepped out to locate the source of the sound. In that instant, the bikers were upon him.

 

With a single arm, Rags and Christoph each grabbed the guard underneath the shoulder, whisking him off his feet leaving his rifle clattering to the ground. Straddling his bike, Christoph reached over with his second hand and ripped the Rebel helmet and comm system off the guard, letting it clatter to the ground at almost 275 miles per hour.

 

Down the road and out of sight a moment later, the bikes slowed to a stop. With a cognitive recalibration to the guard’s cranium, Steve slapped a set of stuncuffs on the man. “We’ll keep him here with us. The rest of you get to your positions.” He growled, hefting the unconscious guard to a seated position against the wall, while he peered around the corner down the barrel of his EE-4 Carbine. Atop his bike, Benjamin stayed with Steve and the guard.

 

Rags and Christoph sped off, arcing widely as they looped through the streets until they had the specific apartment in sight from several blocks away.

 

Now it was up to @Tilt07 .

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Benjamin Wood

Ragnar Kran
Christoph Sokol

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If she could have stayed in that moment forever she would have. There was a purity in it, a glimpse of a normal life that she had never once even given herself the chance to think possible. Love. Something she had never prepared herself for. So that when she was laying in his arms she could only wish that she could stay in those arms forever. Protected from responsibility, from her choices, and from the weight of that iron crown. A weight that she had never wanted in the first place. But a weight that she could not in good conscience give up. 

 

So she lay there as the peace of his love slowly eroded into the worry of the galaxy. Until the arms around her thin waist felt like the only thing keeping her away from a bleak and gray future. But she needed to step into the bleakness again, she knew it and so did he. 

 

She looked up and gave him another kiss. A tender one and a sorrowful one. 

 

“I love you.” She whispered as silent tears trickled down from her eyes. For it was time to face the day. It was time to dress and prepare for their final stand.

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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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Kirlocca let out a sigh as he moved to follow Raven. The tear within her eye brought with it a sense of ending somehow. He wondered for a moment if she could feel her own death approaching, much like he did on that fateful day on Carida. Damn, if karma is a thing, it truly is a bitch. If she had felt anything that day as he was feeling now, it almost lingered like a poison slowly trickling away life essence. Maybe it was the Force warning him of the doom overall. But now he didn't want to part ways with her, to let her out of his own sight. There was a moment when he looked past her and attempted to search and find the right words for her, but the Force wouldn't let anything come to his mind. He glanced for a second to see her amethyst eyes looking on. He knew she could sense his fumblings for words, so he simply shook his own head. 

 

<< You know it well what's going on underneath. No words can truly describe the strong current moving. >>

 

His own eyes locked with hers now instead of the ground. He moved towards her and gave a simple kiss on her forehead. 

 

<< I love you is all that is needed between us right now. I trust you, and I trust the Force. Even if I do not understand it's will. Go back to your duty, and I shall return to mine. >>

 

Kirlocca slowly moved his paws off of her shoulders, an action he was slightly aware he did until this very moment. He walked past her and towards the door, opening it and standing in the middle of its frame before pausing for another moment. 

 

<< May the Force guide us and grant us another long moment together after this is all said and done. >>

 

He then moved through the door and began to search out his apprentices. Something told him that such a time of being more Jedi ready needed. The currents of the Force stirred in many ways now. paths were slowly connecting and merging together and forging something new. The conflict that he knew was inevitable was brewing faster than he thought. May the Force guide us here today.

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On 3/3/2022 at 9:25 PM, Trill Scout Squadron said:

 

Once the clones were in place, it was time to act. Time and speed were of the essence. Both of these were traits held by the Scouts in spades. Revving their bikes, the four scouts pulled out into the roadway and accelerated towards the apartment, the Imperial Alliance designated doorman standing at the entryway. As the engines echoed amongst the tall buildings, the guard stepped out to locate the source of the sound. In that instant, the bikers were upon him.

 

With a single arm, Rags and Christoph each grabbed the guard underneath the shoulder, whisking him off his feet leaving his rifle clattering to the ground. Straddling his bike, Christoph reached over with his second hand and ripped the Rebel helmet and comm system off the guard, letting it clatter to the ground at almost 275 miles per hour.

 

Down the road and out of sight a moment later, the bikes slowed to a stop. With a cognitive recalibration to the guard’s cranium, Steve slapped a set of stuncuffs on the man. “We’ll keep him here with us. The rest of you get to your positions.” He growled, hefting the unconscious guard to a seated position against the wall, while he peered around the corner down the barrel of his EE-4 Carbine. Atop his bike, Benjamin stayed with Steve and the guard.

 

Rags and Christoph sped off, arcing widely as they looped through the streets until they had the specific apartment in sight from several blocks away.

 

Now it was up to @Tilt07 .

 

It was time to act. Tilt and co. moved in to the side of the building as soon as the guard was swept off their feet and carried off. With a single signal, the Clones moved in with their WESTAR-M5 Blasters at the ready, breaching the entrance of the building that held the targets. Despite what Tilt had said he still wanted to give these people a chance, but the army side of him said "orders were orders," despite a moral stance against it. They turned any and all comms off beforehand, and the Clones had no recording devices built into their cameras making them the only ones to see and hear everything. 

 

As they moved up Tilt held a hand up as they went up the stairs. A woman was yelling at her husband who also yelled back, foreign languages to be certain and a few slurs they could pick out. The hall was dark with no windows so it made their grey armor help camouflage the trio. As soon as the couple took the quite vocal argument inside and the metal door slam shut, the group moved forward with a wave onward. Tilt said quietly, "Thumper, which floor?" 

 

"Third... We're coming up on it. Fourth door to the left, not very many people to begin with, should go smooth sailing if they aren't packing." Thumper responded in an even more hushed tone. 

 

As soon as they were reaching the third story the Clones quickly got down on the steps as a passerby, an elderly Corellian was passing by leaving a loaf of fresh baked bread to the door in front of her own living space. As soon as she slowly went into her apartment, the group moved up until they were on either side of the apartment they were to breach. Tilt tried the door but to no avail as it was locked by a security pad. No cameras, nothing to see who was on the outside, Tilt gave a small click to Thumper who immediately got to work on taking apart the automative lock, and after few seconds he gave a thumbs up. Tilt was about to pull a pin to a concussion grenade until he spotted a little boy, a rough looking Wookie looking at the troopers. Tilt raised a finger to where his mouth would have been, then waved it back and forth, the Wookie boy nodded and ran off down stairs, then his attention snapped to Riggs who had been rear of the group. 

 

"What? I been watchin'." Riggs said in protest. 

 

With a soft sigh, Tilt gave the doorknob a turn and opened it to smooth playing music. He had a pistol out instead of his rifle and the grenade in one hand, Thumper was first to move in with Tilt in center and Riggs, checking their surroundings to make sure no one was looking before closing the door quietly. The lights in the entirety of the room they were about to enter were extremely dim, but on a loveseat the three could spot two figures, both clearly having tendrils with one straddling the other. Great, just great. And when they thought they were entering into a duo another figure, brawny and a tad larger walked in with barely anything on. Oh. Before they could move further, and interrupt the group a sudden gasp could be heard from the individual below the first, and that was when Thumper decided to turn the lights on high to see the full picture. 

 

Three Quorren were present, the wife was busy straddling the teen while the husband had prepared some "special" liquid they were about to use. The three turned to the trio of a Clones in which Riggs openly stated, "What the f@#$?!" 

 

Immediately the wife reacted first by pulling a blaster pistol from between the sofa sheets, giving the Clones the answers they needed and they open fired, taking out the female target first and shooting the teenager in the chest critically injuring him. The man took cover behind the couch, and the teenager roared in pain as he pushed the woman to the side and curled into a bloody mess. Moving in, Tilt said aloud, "Step out from behind the sofa now!" 

 

The make Quorren peaked his head upward before standing fully with his hands up. He kept looking to the boy before him, saying something in his native tongue trying to comfort him which the boy simply whimpered. Riggs kicked the fallen blaster away and started to check on the teens wound, and with an audible curse he realized that the sound was too grievous to save. A simple misdirection of firing from all three could have been avoided however the peppering of energy scoring along the walls, couch and the corpse had been necessary. 

 

"You... You ruined everything! That boy was entering manhood, and you! You just killed her and you might as well have killed him too! Innocent people l living their lives isn't enough for this war?!" The male Quorren spat, his tentacles hanging from his face writhing in anger. 

 

Tilt responded still aiming his weapon at one of the primary targets, "Innocent? How about when you sold infrastructure of Nar Shaddaa to the Sith? That ring any bells?" 

 

The male stayed quiet for a moment, his eyes were widened as a sudden realization and fear settled in. He stuttered at first, trying to find the right words, "T-the Sith- I already explained in interrogation, I had a family to protect!" 

 

"Then why the blaster?" Tilt asked.

 

"Protection! When we were located here we needed firearms in case a robbery happened or worse! I thought we were under the protection-" 

 

"-Of the Imperial Remnant? Under the Rebel Alliance? Where'd you get all of these..." Tilt looked around, realizing how expensive some of the interior might have been, then to the furniture and finished, "Expenses? The Remnant couldn't have-" 

 

Without warning Thumper shot the individual directly in the head, and the dropping of the body caused the teenager to cry out again. Riggs backed away and heavily sighed, his breathing seemed ragged as Tilt aimed his pistol at the teen and fired, shooting the head as a mercy kill. Tilt then said, "Grab n' bag the kids, let's get 'em outta here, yeah? Riggs, watch the entrance, Thumper, you're with me." 

 

As soon as the Clones had put cloth bags over the sleeping children's heads- a feat which was difficult due to the tentacles, the group moved through the halls again with Riggs up front. Quickly they moved, but had a pissed any contacts. Tilt said over the comms, "Targets are eliminated, we're coming down with the children." 

 

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Aboard the Constantine, Nikolai Kolchak took command of the bridge.  Standing there amidst the orderly hustle and bustle of a fine-tuned crew within a fine-tuned machine, he felt at home.

 

With his right hand still held firmly in the small of his back, the commander swiped through the console screens before him. Diagnostic readouts, engineering reports, status updates both planetary and regarding naval forces all read out before him. The call had gone out. At times through official channels. Other times through common associates or back room contacts. Nar Shaddaa would be the place the Alliance made it’s stand. Anyone wishing to ckntribute to the cause of freedom, with proven loyalties, well, proven, at least in Kolchak’s eyes, would be welcomed. Already he noted the presence of a Squib reclamation fleet in the outliers of the system. Sometimes they were little more than pirates, but they were a contact via the Jedi and he welcomed their chittering presence. In addition, it appeared that a wide range of Kuati refugees aboard their stolen warships were prepared for combat. Bothan cruisers and spycraft pinged off their sensors as they intermingled amongst the other Rebel fleets. Sleek Hapan cruisers, quick bristling Corellian warships, massive Mon Cal luxury craft converted to war, some local Hutt frigates accompanying a single massive gun-bearing craft, beautiful Naboo starfighters and their transports, Dubrillion Defense Craft, abd Kessellian smugglers all sat in orbit ready for the pending battle. Each had answered the call and had tied themselves in with Alliance Command. From this close to the planet, it was a sight to behold. From the distance, the world seemed to glisten in a haze of warships as each took up their assignment in tandem, augmenting and adding to the defensive measures already in place.

 

Even so, they were not done. Emissaries and naval forces from several more peoples had been on contact. Their arrivals imminent. Soon the might of the free galaxy would be assembled and lut to the test against the forces of evil. Still yet to arrive were Nubian outriders, warriors of Kalee in their dated Republic corvettes, Csillian pursuit craft, Coruscanti Irregular Naval Forces, pirating private armadas the galaxy over, lumbering Fondorian heavy attack vessels, Wookiee warcraft,  hive minds 

of Mechis, freedom-aligned Mandalorians, and Twi-Lek defense forces. All would be in place before the battle commenced, ready to stand for truth and freedom. Each loyal to a cause greater than their own.

 

There, on the bridge of the Constantine , amidst the hustle and bustle, Nikolai Kolchak did something uncharacteristic. He smiled. Small and brief as it was, knowing the coming dangers and destruction, he still could not help but feel a sense of pride. These people, peoples he and his had worked hand in hand with over the years, had all come together. Where they usually worked alone, the chess pieces had finally been brought together to their final attack where the powers of each singular piece multiplied exponentially alongside one another. The Empire itself, once the Enemy of the Rebel Alliance, was now complete. No longer an Empire of fear, but one of brotherhood, dedicated to a future of freedom for all.

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An aura in the Force rolled upon the waves of the mystic energies that flowed through the Rebel Alliance Headquarters on Nar Shadaa as a presence made his solemn approach. For nearly a decade, the once young man had sought himself in self exile, walking a path that his parents before him sought refuge and peace within. But no more could he sit idly by, no more could he ignore the march of war that constantly traversed the space lanes and planets of the Galaxy. And step by step as he approached the Gates that led into the compound set aside for what remained of the benevolence, his mind churned with what led to this point.

 

Once a Jedi, he stood for life and preserverance. He picked up his blade to defend and let its light shine truth upon the Dark Side. But through war, he found himself lost upon the currents of the Dark Side and fell into its corruption. He became what he fought to extinguish. And as a Sith, he fought to perish all who opposed. He carried his blade high to spread the corruption he once fought against, revealing in the carnage and onslaught he brought with him against the Light of the weak. A warrior he had always been, and through war, he thrived. It was his evolution. 

 

But as all Warriors, time inevitably takes its toll upon the soul. With more power comes less challenges, and with less challenges comes boredom and thought. He grew tired of war, he grew tired of the constant 

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An aura in the Force rolled upon the waves of the mystic energies that flowed through the Rebel Alliance Headquarters on Nar Shadaa as a presence made his solemn approach. For nearly a decade, the once young man had sought himself in self exile, walking a path that his parents before him sought refuge and peace within. But no more could he sit idly by, no more could he ignore the march of war that constantly traversed the space lanes and planets of the Galaxy. And step by step as he approached the Gates that led into the compound set aside for what remained of the benevolence, his mind churned with what led to this point.

 

Once a Jedi, he stood for life and preserverance. He picked up his blade to defend and let its light shine truth upon the Dark Side. But through war, he found himself lost upon the currents of the Dark Side and fell into its corruption. He became what he fought to extinguish. And as a Sith, he fought to perish all who opposed. He carried his blade high to spread the corruption he once fought against, revealing in the carnage and onslaught he brought with him against the Light of the weak. A warrior he had always been, and through war, he thrived. It was his evolution. 

 

But as all Warriors, time inevitably takes its toll upon the soul. With more power comes less challenges, and with less challenges comes reflection. He had grown tired of war, had grown tired of the constant stagnation brought about by consistency. And in the light, a glimmer of hope appeared. His siblings had survived just as he had. It was in that moment that the weight that had bore its self into his heart lifted and Scorpio had felt a new chance at life. He hung up his blade, left the field of Battle, and sought out his siblings. And in his travels, one by one he grew past his former life and into a new one. 

 

Then came Onderon. His death. Aryian's death. The fall of the Galactic Republic. As war once again called at him in passing, he sought to make amends for the transgressions he once placed upon the Galaxy. He sought redemption. It was here that war took its final toll upon his soul. He wanted peace. He wanted solace. And as he began his new life after Onderon, he sought exile. And so he settled among the Miraluka. And in his exile, found his path not as a Jedi or Sith, his redemption not as a Warrior or Hero, but found both in his daughter as a Father.

 

And so he settled his weary heart into a life full of joy and fulfillment, becoming a teacher among the Luka Sene and a pillar and of the community. This was where the Force placed its last curve into his life in the form of the Jedi Padawan Genesis Stormhelm, a padawan to Jedi Master Armiena Draygo, a Jedi who once aided him upon Manaan. Compelled to help the Padawan with his path, Scorpio was drug back into his Jedi role. And through Genesis, brought back the stirring of his former Life in the Force.

 

It was Genesis that led Scorpio to Nar Shadaa, and Nar Shadaa that rippled the tides of the war that would come. It was here that temptation to remain observant and unbound called to his heart while reflections of his daughter's life under Sith rule called to his soul. And after his meeting of Frond, his mind settled upon the path. As pointless as it seemed, that war would forever be a constant for the Galaxy, he knew he would have to play his part if only to give Railyn a glimmer of hope for a free life ahead of her. And so he picked up his blade once more, his hunger for war a thirst that brought fear to his heart.

 

As he approached the Red and Black's entrance, a lone guard standing at the Gate's Entrance, Scorpio tossed a worn out ID that would signal a warning beacon across the Base's Imperial Channels. He knew the repercussions this action would undergo, but it was time he faced the music and see his choices through to the other side. As a Fallen Jedi, former Sith, and War Criminal, he would have to stand accountable. Whether it be as a Prisoner or as a Soldier, would be singularly left to those in charge.

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The lines were now fully moving and flowing in the right direction. Allidar Sowephil was now placed in control over the operation of getting the civilians to the ships in an organized fashion. Beck took a moment to observe everything. When he had started so many years ago, he never would have saw himself being this type of leader, let alone being the rank of Admiral. Yet here he was, doing just that. Letting out a sigh of relief, he turned to walk back towards the main building when he had a buzz on his comlink. Someone got flagged at an entrance near him. Probably some kid thinking he has what it takes to fight... or a death wish. Shaking his head to himself, he slowly made his way there, turning off the page so that no one else would be bothered by it. He was close enough to the entrance, he seemed to be dealing with a bunch of new recruits anyways. He was the perfect person for it. 

 

He walked up to see the guard dealing with someone whom he felt like he had seen before, but couldn't identify. The silver hair felt like something he would have been able to place. Walking up, he cleared his throat loudly. "I'm here Lieutenant. Who do we have here?" He took the id chip away from the guard and examined it. "Scorpio... sounds like a fake name. But who am I to judge. I'm no parent." He held the id out for a moment next to the man's face. The name didn't register like he thought it would. "Hate to say it, we've closed taking in new recruits during this time. Unless that's not why you're here?...." 

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So they had finally arrived home, such as it was, to the Red and Black fortress. A great and magnificent piece of Neo-Imperial architecture, it cut a harsh line against the horizon. Hulking there like a beast out of time against a profile of new prefab housing skyscrapers. Sandy blinked the stale sweat out of her eyes and then used the hem of her tunic to wipe away the grime on her hands with a scowl. She needed a refresher and quickly, especially if the Jedi council had anything to meet about. But she could not care too much about that. Aidan was facing a probable crisis, and Sandy had just seen a lesson that she needed to think a long time about. 

 

Perhaps she had never once seen it in her life. Someone willingly accepting death. Not even fighting it, but walking into the embrace of the eons with arms wide open. There was something powerful in that. The peace was astounding. And she gave the older woman a smile. A grateful smile as they walked through the doors into the imperial stronghold. They were safe for now, even if all three needed a shower.

 

She took a look at Aidan and placed her hand on his shoulder. She said nothing, but he would know that she was there.

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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3 Weeks ago

 

In a private chamber, Agent Qessax sat down on a makeshift blanket on the hard durasteel floor. In the center of the room, a small astromech sat and waited, its radio dish out and about awaiting the incoming signal that had been scheduled a day ago. 


Qessax took a deep breath and straightened his black suit out again and brushed . A nervous tick that he had long ago gave up on trying to remove. Meetings like this always made him do this. Meetings that involved the future and with important people. People like admirals, representatives of local governments, and public celebrities who’s words could change his entire career with little effort. 
And meetings that involved his family. 


The astromech beeped a series of whistles. While Qessax still struggled to understand the binary codes of droids, he knew a confirmation when he heard it. The signal was coming through. The others were ready. 


Agent Qessax gave an approving nod. 


Blue translucent images filled the room as the astromech operated its cameras and signal receivers. Several masculine figures, also sitting on rugs, filled the edges of the room in an expansive circle. Each one dressed in dirty and moist robes that helped protect them from the hot sun and thick rain in dark jungles. Some had armor over their robes, others less. Their faces were easily recognisable to Qesssax’s own. While there were differences between them and the Intelligence Agent, they way their tusks jutted from their faces identified them all as brothers. 


At the head of the circle, one male sat above the others. Dressed with more hand-crafted bone jewelry and donning a large cloak that draped like a cape of old, worn with holes and burns from many battles and raids. On either side and behind, his three wives stood, holding a mixture of spears, blasters, and swords.  


“Great Chief” Qessax bowed his head to his father, and then nodded towards the female on the chief’s left who used a spear to hold herself up. His aging mother. 
Battle-scarred, the chief was intimidating to behold. Even as he smiled in pleasant greetings, his purely charismatic and brutal power were there to be witnessed. 
“It is good to hear from you son. But why do you wear your mask here? Is this meeting not as private as I demanded?” 


Qessax reached up and felt the bone mask that covered his face. Despite being away from home for so long, it still felt wet with the dew of the jungles of Kalee. 

 

“It is private. Only I and our family can see each other. I speak to you not as your son, but as a warhunter. This is a kurultai.”


The others murmured to each other. One by one, each of his brothers put on their own masks, their paint outlines visible even in the hologram images. Whenever someone invoked the right of kurultai, it was customary to wear a mask, even if only family members were involved. Even the great chief, a progressive and a reformist, put on his own mask.


“The war here in the stars still progress. But there is a great opportunity for Kalee that is about to happen. One that will help move us into the sunlight of battle.”


There was a moment of silence. Each of the family members looked at Qessax with what he hoped were looks of curiosity. Qessax took another breath. 


“A great raid will happen soon, and the enemy will have great numbers. The chief I am under is wanting as many ships as he can get. He and the alliance will look favorably on those who provide their support.” 


“A bold request” The chief noted. “Ships are rarer than Thorilide. They and speeders are our wealth. ” 


The others nodded in agreement. Qessax knew this wasn’t going to be an easy sell. 


“Indeed. But Great Chief, if we can emerge into the sun of the galaxy, there will be more ships for us in the future. So many ships that we could blind the sun from Kalee”


The chief was silent for a bit, then turned to each of his wives, hearing their council. His mother was especially persistent, his movements much more lively then the others, despite being so old. 


Finally, the chief turned back to Qessax.


“I can provide the Sand Hunter. No more than that.”


Qessax’s heart sank. “Great chief, the alliance needs everything they can get. One ship will not shine brightly in the battle…”


The chief held up his hand, silencing his son.  “I cannot send more. I must have enough here to protect the tribes, not just from each other, but also raiders from off world. And I have nothing to barter with the other tribes under me to enlist their help. 


Qessax took a hard swallow. 


“I and my unmarried brothers can offer exclusive marriages.”


This brought on a great deal of murmuring. What Qessax offered was harsh to say the least. But it also had weight. As children of the great chief, offering themselves to marry only those from one specific tribe meant that those tribes would have more power in future generations. 


The chief looked around. “Are you willing to offer this? A lifetime of marriages to only one tribe, and only of those whom their chief allows you to marry? To have only sons and daughters from one tribe and to forsake your offspring to potential weakness?” 


Qessax’s unmarried brothers nodded. The chief sighed and looked at his youngest son. “Very well. I will see what I can do. But there is one other thing I will demand from your chief. If they want our help, I will need something from them eventually.”


Qessax breathed a sigh of relief. He knew what was coming up. 

 

Today

 

Unmasked but still straightening his uniform under his field armor, Agent Qessax’s boots thumped on the hard floor as he made his way to the command bridge. A few people gave him an odd stare or two. Qessax tried to ignore them, mostly used to them by now. Kaleesh were a rather rare sight in the military, let alone one in the black suit of intelligence. 


After being away from his home for so long, Qessax figured his senses would’ve been dulled by now. There was no hunting, no threats of random attacks. But the opposite had happened. Qessax noticed each stare. Each sudden breathing that a human officer would have at seeing a barbaric kaleesh for the first time in uniform. Even now, his senses operated like a hunter, with the Admiral as a target. 


Spotting him, the kaleesh approached and stopped with a salute. 


“Admiral Kolchak” 


The intelligence officer’s hand slipped behind and pulled out a small datapad from next to his bone mask. A slight smile starting to break through, despite his best efforts. A smile from a Kaleesh always made people nervous, especially humans. However, Kolchak was a man who had dealt with Kaleesh before.  “It seems that the chief of the Todda tribe was able to acquire more than he promised. Each of the tribes are sending one of their corvettes out here as we speak. ”


No simple feat Qessax added silently as he held the pad out to the admiral.


“His first born is leading them. Though the Great Chief does have a request Admiral”

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“Uncuff him,” Benjamin jerked his head at the bound and unconscious guard. Leaning over, Steven yanked on the man’s cuffs pulling them up to the top of his bike where he keyed them open easily letting the guard slump to the ground.

 

”We’re good.” Steve responded revving his bike.

 

”All clear on our end. Get the kids and get us out of here.” Rags growled into the comms.

 

The roar of the twin speeders filled the empty street and Benjamin and Steven roared up to the exiting clones. Slowing to an idle both Benjamin and Steven reached for the children. “We’ll take them from here.”

 

”Congrats boys, you’ve completed your first job for the Remnant. Return to your current trajectory. Speak of this to no one.” Rags growled.

 

Pulling the kids up onto their bikes, Benjamin and Steven ripped the bags off their heads. “Don’t worry guys. You’re safe now.” Steven offered, uncharacteristically reassuring to the younglings. 
 

“Just hold on tight and we’ll get you out of here.” Benjamin added as each scout trooper attached a cable to the kids to keep them from tumbling off their rapid response craft. Leaning over, Benjamin picked up a stuffed bantha that had fallen onto the ground. He handed it to the child. “You dropped this.” Grabbing the worn stuffed creature the child cradled it tightly to her chest as tears welled up in her eyes. The speeder bikes roared to life as they accelerated down the street to join up with the other two scouts.

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Benjamin Wood

Ragnar Kran
Christoph Sokol

Krilst’eve’nuruodo

 

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The Constantine’s bridge was a well-oiled machine. Even though it was not the largest or most intimidating ship in the fleet, the cruiser’s interdiction fields were as legendary as their commander. Serving as the coordination point for a plethora of naval forces, the hallways of the craft were filled with different uniforms and military traditions; all bound together under the promises of freedom and peace, all aligned under the orderly command of Imperial commanders who had not fallen to the darkness of their former order. Good men dedicated to a good cause; but good men were still dangerous.

 

As the Kaleesh emissary called attention to himself, Vice Admiral Nikolai Kolchak slowly turned to face him from where he stood at command in the center of the bridge. From his elevated command dias, Kolchak’s cybernetic eye whirled as it took in the somitary black-clad warrior. 
 

“Ze great chief.” Kokchak turned the title over slowly on his tongue as if he tasted the title for the first time. He savored it.l as he extended a hand to take the datapad. His good eye scanned the readout on the datapad; a task force of vintage corvettes. The machinery left something to be desired; but Kolchak could see beyond the surface. Each of these crafts bristled with dated Republic weaponry and were manned by warriors, born and bred. These were not simple Academy graduates, these were soldiers from the times they could walk. Their reflexes honed and their bloodlust barely contained. Any who stood before them melted in fear or were cut down. “To zend zuch a delegation from ze tribes iz much apprezhiated.”

 

An aid approached the Commander of Naval Intelligence and Rebellion Fleet Commander. Kolchak sensed him without a glance and extended the datapad. Taking it, the aid moved towards his console adding the ships to the naval roster. Comms would be synced and orders coordinated.

 

Bowing slightly at his waist out of respect, Kolchak did not take his eyes from the Kaleesh warlord’s son. “Vhat iz zhiz request?”

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“The request of the admiral is an in-person visit to Kalee” Qessax stated simply. Knowing that this was an odd request, Qessax decided to expound. 

 

“The people of Kalee still have older traditions. Meetings there known as grand kurultai occur, and function like elections or crowning ceremonies, much like the empress had to go through. In these Kurultai, a matter of physical appearance is a vote of confidence, and the opposite for those who do not show.” 

 

“The Great Chief requests that you, or someone of equal or greater rank, to notify him of a date that you can be there in person. A Grand Kurultai will occur on that date and the presence of someone from the Alliance of a rank chief, or in this case, admiral, will go a long way helping unite the Kalee people under one banner. I would volunteer for this task, but on Kalee I would only be considered the rank of Warhunter, as would any other with the rank of Captain.”

 

Having believed he had stated enough, Agent Qessax stood at attention. What his father, and by proxy himself, was requesting was no small thing, and he knew it. A vote of confidence in the Great Chief meant that the Alliance and the Republic were picking a side in what was, all things considered, a local planetary affair. But, as noted in the data pad, not all of the tribes were sending ships. The more conservative tribes, the ones who were aligned against Qessax’s father, would refuse to help outsiders and hold back. Most likely these tribes would try to leverage this moment of weakened defenses to their advantage.  

 

In other words, the people of Kalee were making a choice in who they supported, and a majority of them, though not necessarily the most powerful at the moment, were making the choice to support the Alliance. The request was simple: The Alliance would support Qessax's father politically.  

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