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Nar Shaddaa - Rebel Alliance Headquarters


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The woman let out a small breath and released the string, feeling the thrum of energy through the limbs of the bow as it rushed into its transfer of energy, causing the fletching of the arrow to whistle as it leapt from the string. Emerald eyes sparkled as they watched the arrow split the air, cracking to speed as she passed her own energy into it, blessing it with the song. The shaft glistened with white fire as it dashed into the target a hundred meters away, exploding into brilliant wisps of fractal light.

 

Kyrie felt the air pass about her, whisking with it the sounds and smells of the rusting city. She could feel its life in the air. She could see its spirits. The breeze tousled her tangled braids, obscuring her vision with the black hair, the starshine highlighting its ivory streaks.

 

A moment of peace before the storms of war came again.

 

The moment passed as a commlink buzz beat harshly against her ears, causing the Exorcist to turn on her heel, swinging the wooden bow across her broad shoulders. The bite of the string against her neck caused a swift adjustment as she stooped to retrieve the commlink from amongst her discarded robes.

 

A hunger burned within her for a moment, the darkness that stained her soul, that of the Krayt. She shuddered and keyed the buzzing commlink

 

The voice that crackled to life was that of her fleet commander, Al-Afdal Dyrrhachium, Maréchal of the Order of Captains,

 

“Grandmaster, we are being prepped for Kuat by the Rebel command. Do you wish us to participate? I do not bow to these dikut Rebels, thinking they control our Order!”

 

Kyrie nodded sternly, considering his words. The Revanchists that made up the commanders of her forces rarely played well with others, the natural consequences of the Schismatics. She kept her voice cool and kind, spinning a small braid between her thumb and forefinger. 

 

“Take on their advice as needed, Maréchal, but we are not under their command. Remind the Emp-… Remind… Raven that she lost our fealty when she resigned and are not hers to command.”

 

A small laugh tinkled across her lips, nervous anticipation of the war to come. Kuat had bitter memories. 

 

“Prepare for war, if we need to rid ourselves of these allies we will, but not now. We must unite against the greater enemy, which is, as always, The Dark Side.”

  • Sad 1

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Leena smiled as she stepped into the room with the Jedi and possible Jedi-in-training. The small mouse-line creature skittered between her legs and she stepped widely so as to be sure to not harm it. 

 

She paused in the doorway as she took in the scene, not wanting to interrupt. The Chiss intrigued her. The man had a couple few years on the Knight, but his grasp of the force was rudimentary at best. Still, he showed promise. Leena wondered for a moment where he had come from.

 

“The force is a great ally and tool, but without refinement and dedication, it becomes little more than a hammer by which to subject those one feels is beneath them. As Jedi, we serve the force, and through it, others. That means we have to know the limits to which we can go. Otherwise we do more harm than good.” Leena paused, turning the words she had just spoken aloud over in her head, maybe she had learned something during all those years of Jedi training. Leena was an oddity amongst the Jedi of the day. She had spent the bulk of her life amongst the Jedi, inly having returned to Mon Cal, her home world, recently, and that had been in what was supposed to be a mission of mercy.

 

A shadow passed over the girl’s face st the thought of the chaos that had taken place on Mon Cal and her part in it. After a second she pushed it away with a blink, turning a warm glance towards the Chiss. “Amongst those readying for war is a dangerous place to be learning the basics of what it means to be a Jedi. Too many raw emotions. Too many temptations to turn a misunderstood power into a weapon without understanding the consequences. In war, there is darkness. It is a lesson learned well by all who partake. I believe that your kind,” she gestured kindly to Katakros, “know that well and as such exercise as much restraint as they do.”

 

Stepping forward, Leena extended her hand in offer to help the Chiss stand up, turning to look at the Jedi who had been instructing him, “If you would pardon my intrusion, and,” she turned to Katakros, “if you are willing, I would be happy to have you accompany me to a place steeped in the peace of the force. There you may dive deeper into the untainted waters that now touch your soul without the temptations of so much darkness whispering in your ear.”

 

Intenrnally, Leena rolled her eyes as she listened to herself, ‘Make a girl a knight and suddenly she sounds like one of those stuffy masters back in the Circle,’

 

  “It is, of course up to you, mister . . . ahhh . . . Chiss?” Leena smiled, realizing she was not sure what to even call the man she addressed. “My name is Leena Kil, Jedi Healer.”

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Sandy sat looking at her hands as the assault shuttle made its way into the dark abyss of space.She could vaguely feel her friend’s presence throughout the fleet as they began to prepare for lightspeed. She could feel Aidan and his dour determination, as well as his current guardian, Kyrie, and Leena. She gave them both a nudge of reassurance with the force then let her focus recenter on the mission at hand, letting those tendrils of the force drop away into the ether. 

 

There was much to do, and much to think on. And before she knew it, the Rebel Fleet had left Nar Shaddaa. 

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Calix Meus Inebrians

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Orpheon rose to his feet as the Mon Calimari Jedi approached. He quickly reattached the sword to his hip and grasped his holstered blaster in his hand. He listened intently to her words, each seeming to speak to him on a personal level. As he listened, the infant womp-rat bounded over to him, settling near his foot and looking up at him. It seemed he had made a friend. 

 

"I am willing to go with you. This place does seem to be stepped in raw emotion at this time. Perhaps it would be better to learn of the Sight somewhere not as.......combative." His voice was calm and cool as always, but covered an excitement at potentially learning more of the Sight.

 

Leaning down, he allowed the womp-rat to leap into his palm. Its black fur was somewhat rough and course. That would make sense for an animal in the wild. 

 

"I guess we are ready when you are, Master Jedi."

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Leena smiled at the Chiss and happily motioned for him to fall in step with her as she bowed to the knight that had been offering training, turned and began to walk through the facility back out to the winding streets. 
 


“We will be traveling to an icy world. It might help to grab a jacked,” she smiled. “I have to arrange for a few supplies before we depart. If you want to grab your gear and something to keep your new friend warm and meet me at Docking Bay 23, we’ll be off.”

 

”Don’t worry about finding the ship, Defender Mantis will be there. Although, don’t bother trying to sense him in the force. Around here, even I cannot feel his presence if he doesn’t want me to. He is my friend and protector, even if he is not a Jedi.”

 

With a final smile, Leena turned and hurried off, her footsteps gliding her smoothly through the ever growing throngs of people that seemed to fill the streets.

 

______________________________
 

Back at Docking Bay 23, a Corellian shrouded in armor and white robes rolled his eyes beneath his helmet at the  squabbling trio of squibs that had recently returned to begin loading the freighter they had somehow managed to commandeer for their next voyage. The Mantis knew better than to question the short furred sentients about it. Their explanations usually resulted in nothing but a swimming headache. Still, he could not help but smile at their incessant jovial natures. Other beings saved for the galaxy by the work of Leena Kil and company and fulfilling whatever measure of oath or gratitude their kind deemed fit for the return of life or lives.

 

Even as the Jensaarai shrouded himself within the force, extending his presence within it to a microscopic level that mingled and mixed with the plethora of force signatures that scurried about the compound and beyond, The Mantis reached out. He could feel his ward, she was safe. Should danger befall her, he would be by her side in an instant. The Jedi did not hide in the shadows as his kind did and finding the bright spot in the force that was Leena Kil was not difficult. 
 

Standing with his arms crossed at the open hatch of the battered Naboo-made J-type diplomatic barge. It was not his preferred ship, nor was it the squibs, as was made clear by their muttering; although, even they could not help but admire the smooth features and chrome finish, worn as it may be. Unarmed and nonthreatening, seemed to be an insistence of their ward though, and one they would begrudgingly respect when needed.

 

Eventually, an unknown Chiss arrived in the docking bay. He seemed to be paying some attention to their ship. While it was a sight here amongst the rebels, the Defender still opted to approach, “Greetings. Might I be of service,” he paused sensing the raw force potential of the man before him, “Jedi?”

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The trio broke apart like a wave on a strong cliff, spreading out with a single member wiping at a rapidly blackening eye and a dripping nose. He started to speak but the other two swiftly spirited away, dodging into an alley as the one they had been assaulting looked down to see a silver object glittering in his abdomen. A vibroknife. He let out a sharp cray and collapsed against one of the tall buildings. 

 

"Stay with him, I will get the other two.” The Jedi knight said, disappeared at a blistering pace after the two fled assailants. Leaving Cloak along with a wounded and moaning man. But perhaps the force could help him or guide him. Or there was a commlink to call the colonial militia and their medical staff. 

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Siolo turned to Alliera and said, "Guess I'm just going to have to trust you on this library thing. I'm pretty curious about this Kirlocca figure though. Wonder what he's got in store for us." Siolo pondered what kind of Jedi knowledge could be stored in there. He had always spent his life not knowing things, constantly dreaming about the wonders that he could find in other galaxies, if he could only escape his life of crime. To have access to all this information felt almost overwhelming. Nevertheless, he was excited. He set off towards the library, beckoning Alliera to follow.

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Bureaucrats liked to comfort themselves by claiming that amateurs studied tactics and professionals studied logistics. Admiral Slaughter was never one to denigrate the invaluable services of the staff officers that shadowed his every step, nor the beancounters that somehow kept the Rebel Alliance supplied despite its increasingly heterogenous composition. Eventually, however, someone was going to need to trade turbolaser fire from the deck of a star cruiser or place their own body in front of an unfriendly blaster. 

 

For the final few minutes before Fidelity launched into hyperspace, the middle-aged Admiral was alone in his office. His hazel eyes stared into the holographic image of a star system that was next on the Rebel Alliance’s list of targets, fingers idly scratching at a few days of stubble. In astrometric terms, it was an unremarkable system: an unusually high number of asteroid belts, a gas giant and a pair of habitable planets and a terraformed moon. But it was that final planet in the fourth orbital position that concerned the Rebel Alliance and promised to complicate the invasion; it was host to an extensive series of orbital shipyards.

 

He had not been told the true name of the system. That information, apparently, was so closely guarded that not even the commanders of the invasion would be allowed to know. What he had been told, under privacy field in his office, was that the shipyards were capable of constructing the larger models of Star Destroyers. That narrowed down the list of potential systems significantly.

 

A buzz interrupted his train of thought.

 

“Admiral, the Mandalorians have formed up. Everything is ready.”

 

Mandalorians. Bruce had yet to be briefed on the cultural differences between the various cells of Mandalorians, but that was an unexpected addition to the Rebel Alliance. Whether their cooperation was secured through credits or diplomacy was not freely divulged, but if there was anything that he understood about the sons and daughters of Mandalore, it was that they relished a fight. For the moment, at least, their cooperation could be trusted. Whether they followed his orders… it would be intriguing whether they would do so, seeing how he has sent so many of their creed to a cold grave.

 

He couldn’t afford to worry about that, however. The entire battle plan hinged on this coalition--and a coalition of former enemies at that--being able to fight alongside with some degree of coherence.

 

He gave a long sigh. Around this time, Bryce would have jabbed him in the solar plexus to josh him out of his anxieties and teased him about getting old. Instead, the Talon had been deployed… elsewhere, with the Jedi to a station that he wasn’t allowed to know about. Such were the necessities of the service.

 

“Thank you, Yeoman Gnugga. Have Tal’dira our departure. He may jump when ready. And… please make sure that I am not disturbed, life or death circumstances, that sort of thing.”

 

“Aye, Admiral.”

 

His eyes glanced towards a small mat in the middle of his stateroom. The quarters on a star cruiser were far from luxurious, but the square meterage in this tiny room at least allowed him a few small personal items...

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Orpheon nodded to the Mon Cal as she directed him where to go. He cocked his head to the side as she mentioned going somewhere cold. As she walked off he nodded in thanks to the Jedi Knight who had started his training. He once again mag-locked his vibrosword to his waist. As he left the facility he grabbed a brown leather jacket and donned it. BEfore he left the room, he felt a small pull to a rack of small cylinders. He could almost feel his hand move of its own accord as he grabbed one and slipped it into an internal pocket of his new jacket before exiting. 

 

"I was told to meet a Jedi here, named Leena. I am Orpheon."

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The mysterious armored force user nodded thoughtfully. “You are in the right place then. Welcome aboard good sir.”

 

A short time later, Leena returned to the ship accompanying a grav-sled of supplies to include rations, cold weather gear, and deep wilderness survival and communications gear. Additionally, base infrastructure for a 2 bed medical treatment set up was wherled aboard alongside the other supplies.

 

Boarding the ship, Leena offered a warm smile and bow to the armored Defender, several kindly hugs to the ever-excited Squibian cadre, and a warm smile of welcome to Orpheon. “Best settle in my friend, it will be a bit before we arrive at Ilum. Perhaps,” she proffered a well worn leather-bound book, it’s pages worn and tattered, “you could look this over on the trip. At least it will offer some basics on the ways of the Jedi, our code, and ideologies of such things as life, The Force, and compassion.”

 

In short order, the worn Squibian craft lifted off from the safety of the rebel base and departed into the cosmos.

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Alliera followed Siolo to the Jedi Library on Nar Shaddaa, and quickly went to looking for the Hyperspace Coordinates for Ossus. As a Jedi Hopeful, it was fairly easy, the librarian was even able to direct her to the right location once she clarified that a Jedi Knight had directed them to Ossus for training. With two copies of the coordinates in hand, Alliera quickly found Siolo again. "This is one of the copies of the Ossus Hyperdrive Coordinates." Alliera said, handing him a copy of the coordinates "I would offer you a ride, but my ship only has one seat...I'll see you there?" Alliera said her quick goodbye to Siolo, only for the moment hopefully, and quickly made her way towards the Hangar the Jolly Dancer was in. The young hopeful didn't want to waste a moment, she was going to OSSUS! The Grand Library! The Hangar area seemed to be emptying out quickly, with overheads signaling that an assault was taking place...Alliera's first instinct was to ask if she could help, but one look at the Jolly Dancer, which was unlikely to charm anyone with great performance...and she realized that she should just focus on getting to Ossus.  

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“Finished?”

 

“Bit of polishing work left, but everything is functional.”

 

Closing down the lightsaber and attaching it to a clip on her belt, Armiena took a few wobbly steps towards McShipface’s mess. The scent of something processed and peppery was guiding her to the promise of sustenance, and she found her mother closing the clamshell casing around yet another programming spike. Armiena wearily took a place at her mother’s side at the plasteel table and waited for the dehydration-induced shakiness to subside.

 

Her mother wordlessly offered a mug of caf and a bowl of some unidentifiable porridge. Armiena glanced down skeptically--some pitiful green vegetables and chunks of processed meat were floating around in the cream-colored slurry. It looked like something that the worst of the supply-starved mess hauls in the Rebel Alliance would have served--not this new Rebel Alliance, but from the bad old days when the entire operation seemed to be held together by hope and duct tape. Still, the sensation of warmth and the peppery smell were vaguely comforting, and constructing a lightsaber was draining work, so she dug in.

 

“It’s something I learned to make during a stint on Taanab. Quite invigorating after pulling a night watch.” As though prying classified information from her daughter was casual breakfast conversation, she sipped at a mug and continued. “What will you do next?”

 

“Back…” Armiena swallowed back an indecently large spoonful of porridge. “Back into the field. Recruitment, insurgency, sabotage, fieldcraft; just like old times. Wherever Genesis is now, I won’t be able to help him.”

 

“He’s a decent young man. But he’s not you.”

 

“No. He’s not a soldier. Never will be. I need to accept that.” There was an uncomfortable pause as Armiena reflected for a moment on a potential failing in her teaching. “There’s… something that I’ve been getting nervous about. I’ve been feeling a… quickening in The Force. Something is coming, something big. I”m sure you’ve felt it?”

 

“Something has indeed escalated. I’ve been asked to consult on a matter in the Rim.” The Draygo matriarch sipped at her tea with a casual air. “I felt that it would be advisable to visit for a few days before I embark. I have a peculiar feeling about this mission.”

 

Draygo’s set down her spoon and stared. Had her mouth not been stuffed with half-chewed porridge and a massed of minced meat, her mouth would have been agape in horror. The ancient Miraluka was actually smiling at what seemed to be her encroaching mortality. Reading her daughter’s eyes, Misal’s smile faded and her expression grew more serious.

 

“No. I’d prefer not to think about it. I’ll find out when the moment arrives. For now, I’d like to spend a short time with my admirable daughter, and perhaps embarrass my adorable grandson if those creatures don’t whisk him off to another engagement in your war. We so rarely have a chance to enjoy a normal moment.”

 

For a moment, Armiena’s pale-green gaze shifted past the midnight robes to view a collection of data-spikes dangling from a chain, almost like the keys to an expensive landspeeder. She tore her eyes away. Something about the moment--something about every moment, in the last several months felt irrevocable, as though precious moments were slipping away. There were few enough people from her past as well.

 

“This is good, isn’t it?” Asked the black-clad Miraluka.

 

The younger Draygo just looked at her mother for a second. The cloth, as usual, betrayed little expression, but she understood her mother well enough. It was not a peaceful death that she would have preferred. For her, it would be out in the field, her feet in boots, her enemies wasting their final breaths to curse her name. Quietly wasting in a sterile medcenter bubble would have been undignified, and more importantly, contrary to her wishes.

 

“Yes, It is.”

 

_______

 

Armiena had had few private moments alone since elevating to the rank of Jedi Grandmaster. It was an unwelcome aspect to the task with which she was familiar; the time of the Grandmaster was so valuable that it could rarely be spent on family or personal trivialities. In this case, the time had been wholly wasted. Armiena and her mother discussed nothing of significant importance. No great mysteries of The Force were unraveled. No crucial strategies were discussed. It was two women sitting with warm, caffeinated beverages, chatting about worthless gossip and personal relations, occasionally dipping into technical minutiae.

 

It was one of the most rewarding conversations that she had ever had with her mother. But it was soon over and Draygo was faced with her duties as Jedi Grandmaster. There was a revolution to fight.

 

Armiena re-entered the Rebel Headquarters, making her way to the marine proving grounds. This was a noisy, utilitarian sector of the base, constructed almost entirely of spartan steel and plastoid alloys. It needed to be, as this sector housed the base’s firing ranges, Its portable corridors were continually rearranged, based on the needs of the marines using it, to simulate a variety of potential facilities that they might assault; from planetary barracks to light cruisers to the engineering spaces aboard Kyber-class Star Destroyers and larger ships. Draygo watched from an overhead balcony as a platoon of Imperial stormtroopers--or whatever the grey-clad, plastoid-armored shock troopers called themselves now--breached the corridors of a Carrack-class Light Cruiser and assaulted the bridge. To most, the continual whine of blaster fire, grenades, alarm klaxons, glaring lights, and muffled commands was an assault on the senses. Armiena had the trigger-calluses on her fingers and the scars from blaster creases to hint at her experience in these matters, however. To her, the din was just tactical data.

 

The course’s current configuration was of little importance. More important was the noise, activity--and the distraction that they might pose to a novice Jedi Padawan. Tobias Vos was busy preparing for their mission, but to her recollection the Kiffar had two Padawans: that massive Trandoshan she had briefly seen and a Zabrak that had passed her notice. 

One of the Jedi clerics had been shadowing Armiena’s footsteps ever since the veteran Jedi had disembarked from her freighter. Waving the cream-colored Caamasi over, the Jedi Grandmaster asked him to locate Vos’ Padawans, and to guide the two to her location if they were not otherwise preoccupied.
 

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Anger....Doubt...Pity....Darkness. it consumed my dreams and turned them into nightmares, a constant recollection of Corellia, and now, Chandrila. Their eyes, their conviction, their pride. As I floated in the bacta tank and later in the comforts of the bed, they plagued my unconscious mind like a disease, contorting my very will with their own. I could feel the outside world, see it within my very mind, but it was like the dream I ached to have. Untouchable, unattainable, it came close to my grasp before they plummeted me back into their realm, the realm of war. And it was never ending, repeating over and over until I felt I would go mad.

 

I woke with a gasp that night, the monitor connected with my form alarming to the rate of my heart beat. I stood with weakened legs as I made for the refresher to wash my sweaty face, anything to rid my mind of the souls that haunted me. It was one thing to lose, but to lose to such arrogance and show them correct was another. I could feel the anger within my grasping at my heart, and I knew that this person wasn't me. I didn't like who I was becoming, almost as if somwhere between Dantooine and now, I had lost a part of me. My failings were beginning to define me.

 

Droids soon filled my room as I splashed the cool water upon my face after removing the leads connected to my chest and ripped the IV from my arm, the mechanical nurses attempting to gather me and place me back in the bed, vocals of waking from a coma edging their artificial voices. But they only angered me more, my hands quick to grab one and slam it against the wall across from me. Mordecai, the Mandalorian, the Force. It was beginning to bridge a connection between my past in the present that I did not care to remember. I briefly gazed down at my belongings, my gaze catching the Beskar Knucklers. Darkness and War would never be a part of me, even if it's blood ran through me.

 

Returning to my bed, I ordered the droids to leave me be. And after a few moments of arguing, they eventually did, giving me a moment to think on Armiena, Master Kirlocca, and Leena. Was I truly worthy of being a Jedi? Even for a moment, I recollected a moment of the furred Jedi Master standing over me with a mumbled voice, his words lost upon a waking dream. And Armiena, the mother I never got to know, reborn. I felt like her teachings were lost upon my worthlessness. A part of me couldn't stand my own convictions. And it sickened me. Chandrila had been my moment of healing, and yet, even I screwed that up by simply falling asleep at the wrong time. Had the Force cursed me? Or was I cursed for following it's path? I needed to get out and clear my head.

 

And so I did. Gathering my things, I snuck out of my room and on to the streets of Nar Shadaa. It wasn't hard given my upbringing after the loss of my parents. And once I was outside, an almost cleansing rain poured from the heavens as I walked it's streets, as if washing away all that plagued me. So I kept walking. I walked for what felt like hours, from the Alliance's Base clear across to the Refugee Sector and beyond, until I stood upon a precipice of my life in question. Before me stood a Freighter, contents being unloaded and loaded at the Docks, a conversation being had about workers being needed. And it was that moment I made a choice to walk away, sending a brief message to my Master in passing before ditching my comm unit and the armor I adorn.

 

@ObliviousKnight

 

Dear Armiena,

 

I want to thank you for the time you have spent training me to be a Jedi and for teaching me to grow. But despite everything you have done, my failings at Corellia and Chandrila have left me wondering if this is the right path for me, and I do not know the answer. Anger has began to erode my heart and doubt has filled my soul with strife to the point that I fear that I will fall if I continue down this path. Please do not attempt to follow me, and I ask that you respect my wishes to go out into the Galaxy and find myself. I cannot promise that I will return, but know that wherever I end up, it will be in happiness. This is the one promise I can make.

 

Sincerely, Genesis

 

Tossing the comm aside, I made an approach to the Foreman. "I hear you're looking for workers. I'd like to sign on." There was a deafening silence as he looked my scruffy exterior over and the five o'clock shadow that adorned what little beard I could produce at the age of nineteen before he finally spoke. "You look sickly little man. You sure you're up for the task?" I simply nodded. "Name?

 

"Stormhelm."

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As was tradition, Misal had intercepted the transmission from Draygo’s Padawan. Unlike most of those other observances, the message had been dutifully relayed from her comlink to her archives aboard Shippy McShipface, where the elderly Miraluka was dutifully cleaning the connections of her prosthetic arm. It was a familiar routine, gently scraping away at the alloy leads with a stiff fabric brush, but the routine was comforting when faced with what seemed likely to be the last significant deployment of her life. If she survived, then the rest of her life would likely be… epilogue. Perhaps there would be a short amount of time left to enjoy her duties and privileges as the matriarch of the Draygo-Darkfire clan. 

 

Her lips curled downwards as an unmistakable tremor shuddered through The Force.

 

She had never taken advantage of her rights to embarrass her grandson and his consorts. That would be something to look forward to.

 

An old ache voicing itself at the motion, Misal rose to her feet and returned to the freighter’s cockpit. There was a message from her daughter’s Padawan. Leaning on the twin pilots’ seats to take the pressure off her old bones, the Miraluka listened to what she presumed to be a private message. Her lips parted in a disgusted sneer as she listened. That stupid boy. Fine young man or not, his departure from the Order--from her daughter--by means of a time-delayed HoloNet transmission was reprehensible and cowardly. It was unbecoming of a Jedi, and more importantly unbecoming of anyone that her daughter cared for.

 

The stump that ended her right arm began to curl as she attempted to clench a fist that was not there. The child had requested that Armiena not attempt to follow him. The Draygo matriarch knew that her daughter would honor that request--likely justifying that decision with an excuse about needing to put the needs of the galaxy before her own--but Misal was not bound by any such request, nor would she have honored it. Her anger for the moment causing the ache in her joints to be an unwelcome memory, Misal began to pace the corridors of McShipface. Where to begin? Where to begin? Stormhelm would have several hours of lead, and unlike her grandson, his name was not nearly as notorious. He could easily travel anonymously.

 

There was the pontite crystal. The two Jedi had traveled for months with it in their company. They had shattered it to construct lightsabers, and the gemstone had been soaking in their combined Force presences. 

 

The Miraluka glided in her ebon robes towards her daughter’s quarters. It was a sad, small, utilitarian room--no momentos unlike her room on Ghost Breath, just a few changes of clothing and some scattered datapads. There weren’t even sheets over the cot, and Misal realized with a pang that her daughter probably still wasn’t able to sleep on a proper bed. Her hands rifled through the brown and grey cloaks and withdrew a small leather pouch. She squeezed the little bag--there were still a few shards remaining. Misal sat on her daughter’s unused cot and lowered her face to the closed pouch.

 

The Miraluka forced herself away from dwelling on her momentary rage. The moment required her attention, not her self-indulgence. Breathing deeply, she let her senses pass from her surroundings and into the memories held by those crystals…

________

 

Still within the Rebel Alliance’s Marine Proving Grounds, Armiena rose to her feet. The veteran Master had somehow dozed off while meditating and had been roused by the buzzing of her comlink. She listened, her expression shifting from annoyance at the urgency of the young Togruta clerical, to confusion, to well-disguised horror.

 

“On my way. Try to keep the sentinels from leaving. No,don’t contact the Rebel Alliance, I’ll handle this myself. Have the chosen a representative, someone that I can talk to?”


It was a rare occasion that caused a Jedi Grandmaster to run, and several Rebel soldiers found themselves staring as Draygo sprinted in the general direction of the arms warehouses in the vicinity of The Red and Black.

Edited by ObliviousKnight
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On 12/21/2020 at 10:54 AM, Vox said:

The two walked into a mess room, cafeteria, or as Vox called it a dining hall. There were others around, Imperials, Rebels, and the riffraff however his senses went wild as soon as he smelled the first signs of food. He hasn't really are at all, not in the many hours he's deployed his unit in the insanity of a war Vox and his people truly had no business being in. Even then, it could have spread to the tribe if past events hadn't transpired. Maybe. 

 

It was the moment Vox almost lunged at the assortment of food before them, different delicacies... If this was considered such, provided. The Chieftain held himself back but couldn't help ignore the woman's playful dig. More or less, he was focused on one thing. Vox selected... More than his tray could handle, more than two trays, and after a good minute of selecting a large portion of just about everything, he walked over to where Pim was seating herself. 

 

The Chieftain was like a child in a candy shop, he was excited that he finally got to eat. Setting the three massive trays down in front of him, Vox didn't notice the curious glances toward him. An armored reptilian hulk about to inhale what was before him, and he could care less. With a fork, Vox began to eat however slowed himself down, being reminded he's in a public place and not a private den. He still ate what was considered fast yet he made sure to savour the odd tastes. 

 

Vox listened intently, nodding and grunting in agreement when he could. After Pim asked her questions Vox finished his first tray already, using a folded cloth to wipe his mouth. There was a trio of Imperials who watched the Trandoshan finish the tray rather rapidly with puzzled gazes. Vox cleared his throat and replied, "I suppose I will train, it would certainly give my pack the rest they deserve. However if I am to be utilized for a mission then so be it. I'm positive I can balance between being this padawan and holding the responsibility of leader. However I cannot abandon my people, nor my goals, if I am only to do one or the other. If you had that choice between learning this Force and the survival of your people, which would you choose?" 

 

It was clear, if Pim reached out to his emotions, that Vox was passionate of his own tribe. He didn't come all this way to choose between one or the other. And though the Trandoshans as a whole 

 

Already on his second tray, and already halfway through, Vox still didn't notice the three Imperials staring at him. Two of them already began to bet on how much he could eat, they completely forgotten their own meals. Two more joined them watching as the Trandoshan was easily putting down the mass. After a minute Vox again used the same cloth to wipe his mouth again. He caught himself from belching and held it down, not wanting to be rude in front of a host and possible fellow soldier. 

 

Moving into the third tray, Vox openly stated to Zabrak, "It is all in the kind of course. Our thoughts, dears, strengths and goals, our weaknesses. In truth, I do not just seek strength for my people but the will to change us, the true goal is to revitalize my kind into the once powerful people we once were. But not ravenous. Not voracious, war hungry beasts like the Trandoshans you know. No, I myself look for..." 

 

Vox stopped what he was about to say, his eyes dropping to a steak he'd just stabbed through with a fork. From home to here, Vox had been fighting nonstop for the past few days, from taking capitols to highjacking ships, finally his own men found refuge and rest but what of him? There was no rest, no chance to truly sleep, he hasn't even removed his armor once. Yet, he was missing something ever since he had a taste of the Force, Vox slowly felt a degradation. 

 

The chieftain had been so focused on his people and their survival, he never thought to actually sit back and think. It has been quite an experience, this new horizon, entering an ongoing war between people's. He looked back up to Pim, and an end result in mind with a finalized word for his runoff sentence. He said, "Peace. I wish to know something like that one more. But not just for me. For my tribe, my brothers and warriors, to my people trapped back home. That is what I want to know, that is what I want to feel. I'm willing to fight for that, I wish to know the Force, but as I said, my people must come first. If I have to choose which, then I cannot come along with you. If learning the Force would aid me in my mission for peace and my tribes survival and prosperity, then I'm willing to learn so."

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A sword in the darkness. Bright like a candle. Burning, ever burning. We will stand beside thee, until the galaxy falls and all is ruin. But the force is with us,  Through it all, unto the ages of ages...

 

The crimson tunic hugged her skin closely, from the sweat of her run, its hem heavily embroidered with the livery of the royal house of Moriès-Outremer. A roaring lion of gold upon a cross of white lilies. Repeating in miniature, ad nauseum. Its larger print in gold stitching above her left breast. Alcmène continued her run through the vast hallways of the Jedi and Imperial Knight complex, sweat dripping from her chin to soak the embroidered hem of her tunic.   

 

The young woman was now quite regretting her decision not to eat breakfast, silently relying on the force to keep her breathing steady enough to not collapse. So she turned the run towards the dining commons. Unslinging the heavy durasteel allied shield rig from her back and propping it against the wall as she entered. Letting her jogging footsteps fall into a slow pace. 

 

She pulled a tray beside the trandoshan, and gave him a nod. She interjected into his conversation with little care. 

 

“Well if you are looking for training, then you can find nothing better than one of us Sentinels, would you be willing to learn?”

 

It was the next progression on her path anyway. Why not choose a capable alien to train? 

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2 hours ago, Alcmène said:

A sword in the darkness. Bright like a candle. Burning, ever burning. We will stand beside thee, until the galaxy falls and all is ruin. But the force is with us,  Through it all, unto the ages of ages...

 

The crimson tunic hugged her skin closely, from the sweat of her run, its hem heavily embroidered with the livery of the royal house of Moriès-Outremer. A roaring lion of gold upon a cross of white lilies. Repeating in miniature, ad nauseum. Its larger print in gold stitching above her left breast. Alcmène continued her run through the vast hallways of the Jedi and Imperial Knight complex, sweat dripping from her chin to soak the embroidered hem of her tunic.   

 

The young woman was now quite regretting her decision not to eat breakfast, silently relying on the force to keep her breathing steady enough to not collapse. So she turned the run towards the dining commons. Unslinging the heavy durasteel allied shield rig from her back and propping it against the wall as she entered. Letting her jogging footsteps fall into a slow pace. 

 

She pulled a tray beside the trandoshan, and gave him a nod. She interjected into his conversation with little care. 

 

“Well if you are looking for training, then you can find nothing better than one of us Sentinels, would you be willing to learn?”

 

It was the next progression on her path anyway. Why not choose a capable alien to train? 

 

Just as Vox was about to dive into his third tray another woman sat next to him. She nodded and spoke to the Trandoshan, out of the blue about training. It meant that either she listened to what he actually said or she just heard the training portion. Either or, he wasn't going to repeat himself. Vox swiftly finished up three different food items before finally speaking. 

 

"The Sentinels? If they are these Jeedi... Jedi, then I am willing. Who are you?" 

 

Vox's demeanor changed to a curious one instead of the intensity he began to feel. This woman has the courage to actually approach Vox, which he respected, he'd noticed a few glances from passerbys who either immediately looked away or avoided him entirely. His brawn was different than most other Trandoshan others were used to, clad in a behemoth of an armor made him appear larger as well. But Vox knew well there were those who weren't afraid of striking up conversation, and those who were willing to approach him so casually were often treated with the same tone they provided. 

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“One more time, Baakua, just the facts.” Draygo took the opportunity to catch her breath after having sprinted several kilometers to the distant arms warehouses that stored the vast arsenals held by the Rebel Alliance. No fewer than thirty battle droids had circled around the Jedi, observing them through glowing eyes that were just barely visible through armored slats.

 

“Right, so, the previous Grandmaster--Master Alluyen--commissioned an order of droids of about one million units. The Peth-Osk is on the dataslate. Manufacturer’s brochure suggest that they have a wide variety of capabilities, frontline combat, peacekeeping, law enforcement and security, even some minor first aid capabilities. Everything went as scheduled with Mechis III, except our techs claim that their combat subroutines have been corrupted.”

 

“Irrevocably?”

 

“Most likely. They say that, uh… self-diagnostics and, fractal, mutations, might help them regenerate their… asynchronous callbacks to their combat protocols? But they sounded skeptical. I was kinda getting the impression that they think the droids are a loss. Broken. Kaput. Sabotaged, even. The techs and Mechis were using a lotta big words when they were talking, but they’re claiming that since the droids were sabotaged on our watch, warranty is void, no obligation to update firmware or perform further maintenance, get your lawyers involved if you want your credits back.”

 

Draygo glanced through the specifications of the droids on a dataslate that Baakua had offered her, ignoring the aide as she attempted to translate the reports from the engineers. The droids were not remarkable in their capabilities, nor were their equipped weapons or armor, but at least they wouldn’t be a mob of mumbling idiots like the mainline units deployed by the Trade Federation. A set of holoprints suggested an unusual degree of dexterity in their hands and feet for a battle droid, with surprisingly long, slender fingers. That was an oddly feminine touch for a droid with a torso carapace composed of a solid brick of plastoid alloy. What concerned her, however, was their communications capabilities. Their primary transmitters were low-powered, likely designed for transmitting tactical data to nearby units, but they were equipped with a secondary HoloNet transceiver, albeit one with impractically low bandwidth.

 

The Jedi Ace suppressed a shiver when she considered the implications of such a device. It was a device with low bandwidth, but theoretically infinite range and was exceptionally difficult to intercept. Tactical data could never be transmitted through these devices, not even intelligence holos or even detailed reports. Only brief, encrypted bursts of data could be processed by such a transceiver. Those were encrypted orders, passcodes to manually activate behavioral protocols--optimistically speaking, that would be a shutdown sequence.

 

Hypothetically, a single person could take control of the entire army of droids, all million-strong of them. Draygo could very easily imagine circumstances in which she would be thanking the unknown third-party of droids that had sabotaged these droids.

 

“Thank you, Baakua, you can stop trying to speak technobabble. I’ll take it from here.” Draygo smiled, trying to disguise the fact that her runaway imagination had caused her to pale. Once the Togruta had fled, Armiena stepped into the middle of the circle of battle droids and kept her hands clear of the twin lightsabers on her belt. Dimly glowing eyes squinted at her from thirty expressionless plastoid faces, waiting for… Draygo was uncertain whether they were waiting for commands or for an impulse to act. The engineering reports claimed that they were likely still programmed to obey commands from the Jedi Order and that no hidden subroutines had been inserted for an assassination attempt. “Sentinels, my name is Armiena Draygo. I am Grandmaster of the Jedi Order.”

 

There was no clack of plastoid limbs seizing weapons. The droids stood almost motionless--one of the squinting faces shifted its weight to better view the veteran Jedi.

 

At least there would not be an assassination attempt. That was a promising start.

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Siolo watched as Alliera's ship flew away. He turned back to the library, looking for anything that might interest him. There was an old text about some criminals from a distant planet that grabbed his attention, but it soon bored him. Siolo figured he should follow Alliera, as he had nothing else to do. He took a look at the coordinates, then set off. He too, saw the hangar being emptied, and almost flew over to follow them, but he figured it would be useless, going in with no communication to any of the other pilots. He instead flew straight to the coordinates given to him.

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Armiena had expected these droids to be chatty--maybe not as bad as the typical protocol droid or one of the useless B1-series, but there was not even so much as a confirmation or utterance of “roger roger.” Those expressionless faces just stared at her through their sunken chestplates. The veteran Jedi reached to the Force, and felt a slight tremor between the horde of battle droids--it was steady and ceaseless, likely a transmission. Most likely the droids were constantly sharing tactical data between themselves, possibly audio or visual data. But there was something else, some gossamer connection between the droids.

 

“I understand that you were created to serve the Jedi Order as front-line soldiers. I can’t compel you to do that--not because your programming was sabotaged, but because I wouldn’t force any sapient being to fight and die against their will.” Hands on her hips, Draygo turned about, searching the droids for any flicker of reaction. The hem of her brown robes snagged on one of the droids’ armored feet. There might have been a barely audible beep from the droids.

 

“But if we’re going to have a chance of overthrowing the Sith Empire, we’re going to need all available hands. Even pacifists who refuse to raise a blaster in anger will be valuable. I’d like to invite you to assist the Jedi Order. We’ll have need of your services--construction, logistics, even spare computational cycles. In the meantime, you’ll be able to complete self-diagnostics and we’ll be able to find out what was done to you.”

 

There was another one of those tinny beeps. Draygo counted a minute between each of the sounds--perhaps it was a running indicator.

 

Only one of the droids spoke, the grey Sentinel that stood directly before the gaze of the Jedi Master. A rumbling baritone voice issued from a speaker that was buried somewhere in the droid’s sunken neck, not exactly unpleasant to listen to, but the droid’s inhuman appearance gave the rumble an intimidating quality. “Awaiting assignment, Grandmaster.”

 

“Wonderful. There are two flashpoints that need steady hands, and not being susceptible to contagions will be… useful. Sync your comms to me,” Armiena held up a disc from her belt . “And I’ll send you tactical data for your first mission.”

 

____

 

Two hours later, a transport packed to the bulkheads with Sentinel droids--nearly two thousand mechanical souls--departed The Red and Black, and vanished into hyperspace.

 

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“We are those that carry the blade to the enemy, we are those that fight in the frontiers. The partisans, the shadows, those that will carry the valour of Jedi blades to the very halls of the Sith Lords.” 

 

It was a boast to be sure, but the off-shoot trandoshan before her seemed to be willing and believing enough to warrant her best recruitment speech. So she leaned close with a conspiratorial look in her eye. 

 

“If you are game friend, then join me when you are done with your food. I'll be going on another run. Find me in the lower levels.” She smiled and then polished off her meal with another quick bite before running to the entrance, scooping up her shield, and heading to the lower levels.

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Finishing up his food swiftly, finalizing a bet between the five Imperials watching , Vox stood and gave Pim a nod, "I suppose I can take a look to it then." 

 

Vox would then dispose of the trays where everyone else did and would take the similar path the woman did. However due to the little knowledge he had of the entire facility, Vox began to focus once again, nevermind he was standing in the middle of the hallway. Just like how he found Pim and that Vos, he would attempt his hand at this Force. No words, no feeling, reach out. Those were the thoughts he repeated until finally he calmed down and removed any tension, any negative thought or chatter in the scowl. 

 

After a moment, Vox began to feel something, a pull, soft and familiar. Nothing but the ripples of motion he now felt from moving. The Chieftain, transfixed on this new feeling, began to follow his instinct like he did when he found Vos. Again he followed the same pulling like before and went down the flights of halls. When things got really confusing were the elevators however he obliged to taking stairs instead, until finding himself on a, "Lower level." 

 

There, Vox continued to walk about however found his instinct and focus waning, taking in the newer surroundings. By now one would assume that the Trandoshan was finished at being amazed by wonders, however he assumed that traveling down here would be stone and clay, if not elegant building material. How much metal went into these structures?

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Alcmène let the force gather around her, letting it spiral and eddy as lights began to click on throughout the lower levels, the glow panels igniting as they sensed the lone soldier walking through the previously dark corridors. It was a difficult trick of course, and one that mainly worked on the minds watching, but she let the light fractal around her, only showing the soldier what she wanted him to see, before she pulled at that veil. Letting it warp then dematerialize into ashen flakes that dispersed as quickly as they fell. She stepped out of her illusion and grinned a tooth filled smile at the Trandoshan Soldier. 

 

“I could feel you, you know.” She let her presence expand towards him as well, until her mind touched his. “Try it.” She gestured to the empty corridor, and took off at a run, beckoning him to join her. “Focus on your breathing, then slowly eliminate every distraction until you find me. Then reach out with your mind and find mine.” 

 

And she continued to run. 

 

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The illusion was an... Odd experience, what is and was reality seemed to play about the Trandoshans mind as the woman from before stepped forth. The flickering lights and the glimmering ashes falling, she only had a smile as she stated to practically catch her... With his mind? Vox had half the mind to call the woman a fool however he caught himself, realizing that it must have been one of those Force tricks he picked up on. If this was what it could do, and allow him to do, Vox would oblige. 

 

Hesitant at first, Vox left himself feeling no choice but to do as told. He slowed his breath, allowing his shoulders to free themselves of any tension, Vox silently focused himself. Centering his concentration, he instead allowed everything to play in his mind instead of simply trying to ignore such things. One by one, he plucked away each distraction, each sound and light until he could easily filter out the nonsense from the main objective. He could begin to feel something wrap around him, nothing visible or even physical, but a slow moving flow of energy. Was this that Force these wizards spoke of? 

 

And in an instant, things progressed from one by one to a few at a time, quickly blocking out these distractions but not fast enough to overlap and miss any. Vox felt the nonsense filter to nothing, at least in his mind, and slowly tracked something else. A single source of life he could finally "see." Vox reached out with his thoughts, using this newfound energy to his call, and... Thought. Simply thought

 

"I found you." Was all the Trandoshan could manage, meaning to make it longer than three words however settled on that, no need for unecessary chatter. 

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Vos and Pim had returned to The Prism to do some prepping for the upcoming mission, While there had been a few hiccups, Pim was diligently working on several different aspects of the mission- and trying to calm her own fears and worries. Vos was busy reactivating his old contact line on the planet, a Deveronian named Sharv. Refreshing himself on the key phrases and code words, he diligently made sure the ship was in top condition, from the inside. On the outside of the ship, there was some carefully placed markings that would help sell their back story and be able to slip right back through whatever security checkpoints awaited them. 

 

One of the things Vos made sure of was the operational status of the fire suppression system. All checks were 'green,' and so he decided he would also rework his cane, so there was a bit of time devoted to obtaining scrap metal and various components. After that was the clothing issues. They certainly could NOT go planet side with just their Jedi Robes. While Vos had plenty of scoundrel's clothing, and Jedi attire was lacking... the others posed a different issue. He began work on that as well.  

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Alcmène gave a mock bow with the distinctive flourish of the courtly society from which she had come. Though the Prince’s courts of Outremer were now very distant memories, they still held some power over her. She still carried the Tapani accent, and had done little to change her way of dressing, instead preferring the short tunics of the squires instead of the long flowing robes of the Jedi order. “So you have touched the force. Tell me do you feel the temptations of power yet? But perhaps not, for you have not used it.” She gestured to the trandoshan and a long silver cylinder flickered off her belt to glide to a rest before him. 

 

“That is a lightsaber. Take it, and press that button near the hilts. Don’t worry its on a safe setting, so give it a few practise cuts to gauge the weight and weightlessness of the blade. Then we will work more on the force.”

 

((This is your training blade. I left it intentionally descriptionless. So describe it how you like and the blade colour is yours to choose))

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The female before the Chieftain bowed in mockery before him, in others words letting him know he figured out this trick. To him it was a feat that could prove useful for illusions, though this might be considered as tame compared to further instances to take place later. The Force was a mysterious thing, and in truth Vox had a ginger to learn more however nothing malevolent nor to grasp power. Vox would then catch the gliding weapon, a silver thing, basic in design really that had a slimmer midsection. 

 

Vox's hand seemed larger however upon further inspection the weapon was larger than normal, being perfect for both hands. Did they just have any size of these energy swords? Vox held it comfortably in his scaly palm until finally clicking the button on its side, the top erupting smoothly into a glowing yellow. The Trandoshan was easily in awe, such a beautiful weapon, a tool that he could gaze upon for such awhile. Despite this revelation, the question the woman asked must be answered. 

 

"No... No," Vox shook his head while still gazing at the energy beam, "Power is something natural, but... To be consumed by it, to strive for power and to live by it is a fool's gambit. That is something my brother never understood, power alone is nothing but a hungry vessel that depletes and expunges any sense of true self. I feel I need to learn more of your Jedi, but nothing... No, nothing that would lead to self destruction." With that said, the sabre was turned off and still held in the Trandoshans palm. It was true, power came naturally but again, to Vox, to bathe in that power and writhe in its pleasure is what only a fool could do. It was something he witnessed before. 

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It was a few hours later that Armiena was able to tear herself away from the throng of attention-seekers--some of whom actually did have emergencies that needed her attention--and return to her ship. She found the old freighter empty. A lap around the living spaces aboard the ship discovered that her mother had left, leaving only a shakily-scrawled note that contained only a comlink frequency and well-wishes. That was not surprising; her mother was prone to coming and going without ceremony, but this time there was a sense of finality to her visit.

 

As her pale-green eyes scanned the square of paper and committed the numbers to memory, her mind kept wandering to the possibility that this was the last time that she would ever see him again.

 

The veteran Jedi wandered, half-aware, towards McShipface’s cockpit, tearing the square of paper into scrap and swallowing the ragged fragments one piece at a time. It was there that Armiena found that there was a message from her Padawan. She opened the message with mild concern--none of the Jedi dispatched to Chandrila had sent a thorough status report--and her stomach dropped further when closer examination of the message revealed that it hadn’t been sent from Chandrila, but Nar Shaddaa.

 

Though silent, the message struck with all the thunder and confusion of an ambush in the middle of a minefield. She didn’t know what to do. She wanted to scream, sob, and storm out of her ship to hunt down her Padawan all at the same time. That was an impossibility, of course. There was no opportunity for self-indulgence and personal satisfaction, especially that as stupid as forcing the harrowing life of a Jedi on an unwilling apprentice. Mostly, she just wanted to see her former student and listen to that speech he had prepared for her benefit.

 

Armiena held her face in her hands and just stared into her palms for a few minutes. This also explained her mother’s absence. She’d left to pursue the boy. After a long hesitation, the Jedi Master sent a brief message to the frequency that her mother had left.

 

Please respect his wishes. Do not pursue him.

 

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There was a moment within all the preparation that was called for. While accustomed to his heart beating faster while training and in combat, Tobias found his heart and mind racing at the prospect of leaving Adenna here, without someone he could trust. Sure they Jedi were trustworthy enough- but that was just on the surface. He'd been betrayed by too many over the years- Adenna included, but that was more of the political situation they found themselves in these days. Rebel Alliance, again. Since his eyes were damaged, he refrained from rolling them again- wouldn't want to injure them any more than they already were. The Alliance to restore the old way? Why was it the old way always seemed to be on the end of a beating and then held up on a pedestal. Why couldn't the old way ever stand up and win? Overall winning, not the silly battle by battle winning?

 

His love had made some progress in that realm, and then this happened... now... Armenia was calling the shots. He'd back her up of course, but his mind wandered. 

 

Sitting on the edge of his bed, hunched over with his hands crossed in front of him, he looked over his scars- with the Force of course. Again, he sighed, resigned to his fate and the path his decisions would take him. A good faith mission with Pim, Vox, and the Grandmaster. Into a project he'd been ordered to shut down. Part of him wanted to stay with Adenna, another part knew he couldn't, another said he shouldn't anyways, a fourth part wanted her to just wake up and get back into it, a fifth wanted her to wake and run away with her to the scene he often fantasized about. The one where he showed that inquisitor. That imperial knight. That rebel alliance imperial knight. At his, he rolled his eyes. It was that or vomit out of how nauseating the actual term was. How quickly the Jedi had left and put the blinders on. 

 

In the middle of his musings, he heard a loud whump followed by an exclamation of pain from a tiny voice from outside his door and down the hall. He rose to investigate. Finding Pim on the floor, holding the back of her head and sucking air through her teeth, she had obviously fallen and hit her head... but where had she fallen from. Apparently his question was on his face- and she responded without Tobias saying a word. 

 

"Something new I am trying... it works, but I'm just not strong enough with my control of the Force yet, Master." Pim said, standing up. "I made it half way around the ship, but I obviously need to work on it better."

 

Vos nodded, smiling. He had noticed odd tendrils of Force essence floating around the ship recently. "When you perfect it, you will have to clue me in on what you're doing."

 

Pim nodded back, smiling. "Yes, Master. I.. well..." she went on to explain what she was doing, and the thought process that was leading her to try this out. Tobias was amused- he hadn't thought of something like that, or at least not seriously. The way she looked at the Force was same but different than how he did- and he encouraged her to think outside the box. Her most recent idea, if it worked, would be a remarkable asset in the future. Leaving her to it, he returned back inside his cabin and started back in on his work. 

Edited by Tobias Vos
oopsie
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The joint fleet emerged from hyperspace a debris covered wreck. A sign of the same prelest and pride that had brought the Galactic Alliance, Imperial Remnant, and New republic over the edge of darkness into vague memories. This Rebel Alliance fleet, a mixture of all the past republics and empires still carried their faults. The faults that had caused the Jedi Order to schism during the fading hours of the Galactic Alliance. 

 

Pride

 

Thousands had paid their lives for it, and thousands more justified the actions that had brought them to this ruin. But the once empress and now leader of the rebel alliance did not. She knew that she alone had brought them to this destruction.

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Pretender to the Galactic Throne

Leader of the Rebel Alliance

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