Carida

[Raven Nasra]

Raven bowed in return and wished the commissioner luck in his upcoming adventure. “Stay safe Mazarri, I do not trust this GA, as of signing this you are an Imperial Citizen and as a member of my staff you are under my direct protection. If they try something there will be war.” She smiled and watched his back as he walked away. She hit the button on her desk and a six man squad of Imperial Guards in their green and brown armour followed him out. They would accompany him to Coruscant and protect him with their lives. She looked up to see her old friend in arms Robert. “My friend, how happy I am to see you! How are you? How was Mykr?” A lot was left unsaid but she knew her friend would be her most loyal ally in the coming conflagration of the galaxy. She sat down and awaited his response. Her black gloved hands lightly caressing, the gleaming desktop.

 

____________________________________

 

 

In the training area a large series Conex boxes were set up for squad based tactical combat training for the knights.

[Kyrie Eleison]

Kyrie walked into the training rooms, which were filled with meditation mats and training equipment. The room smelled of sour sweat and mold, which turned her stomach away from the thoughts of the day's meal. She reached out in the force to those in her care, feeling the stubbornness and animosity of the one, and the naive sweetness of the other. She smiled to them both, reaching to touch them with a mix of kindness and strength.

 

"Kala, you have faught by my side, while Aiden has yet to prove himself to the Empire. Worry not, there are many battles to come... We focus upon warfare, but our foundations must be built strong. An untempered blade is quick to fail."

 

The young exorcist knelt, her forest-green robes highlighting the ivory of her stormtrooper armour. She placed her lightsaber before her in the air, where it hovered upright before her, it's meter-long handle glinting in the florescent lighting. It acted as a totem for Kyrie's power, wreathed with silver fire.

 

"Reach into yourselves, find your locus of control. What is it that connects you to the force?"

 

She reached out a half-gloved hand, and the fire sprung like lightning to envelop her hand where it spread across her fingertips

 

"Reach with it into the flame, find what it is that drives your very core. That emotion, or the lack of it, is what connects some of us to the living song of the Force."

[Robert McNamara]

Robert walked into the room- looking around to see how she had chosen to decorate. All suggestions of design directed the onlookers eyes to the desk. The shiny desk. Of course, the strong willpower of Mistress Zinthos naturally grabbed your attention as if yanked from hyperspace by an Interdictors Gravity Well Generators. The blue skinned alien that had been escorted out- interesting, but now forgotten. With his cap under his arm, he walked towards the desk. Then his body snapped to attention- saluting, "Mi'Lady, I am well. I'm glad to see you are as well- seems we missed something big happening up there." His eyes motioned to the sky, as he settled back down to an 'at ease' stance.

 

"Myrkr was... an irritant, but productive. We harvested and kept One Hundred and Nine of the yslamiri, and Forty-two Vornskrs. Most of the Yslamir have been placed around the capital. Most still in the landing pad in the third section, should you want them elsewhere. I have positioned five onto my ship, if that is alright. My troops- " a slight hesitation in his voice as there was a practiced way he claimed ownership- but also pride there, lurking. He was proud to be a Imperial, he was happy with this so far... He had been a pirate for just a few years, these were not corrupt bastards- they were his men, in The Galactic Empire- good people, mostly. It was always shameful for good men and women to die, and of course, Death Star was a slaughter of his entire crew- entrusted upon him by the former Emperor. "-will need six prosthetic limbs and one eye. But all have expressed their deepest desires to remain active in the Empire, which I've granted."

 

With a slight reservation in his tone- a noticeable change this time. "I apologize for missing the battle, what else have I missed?" And there was the relaxed- ol' typical Robert tone.

[Aidan Darkfire]

At the mention of the Force, it was all Aidan could do to not roll his eyes. This was supposed to be combat training, not sitting around with your legs crossed pretending you were more intelligent than everyone else for doing so. But if this was what she wanted, then this is what she would get. He closed his eyes, remembering some of what Kirlocca had shown him when he was much younger. It wasn't the action that was difficult, it was merely the finesse. Like pulling apart two impossibly thin sheets of paper in an ancient book, being able to gently separate them without tearing them...that was the finesse that the Jedi required to touch the Force. Slowly, carefully, Aidan reached.

 

The fire extended towards him shakily, slowly, dying out for a bit but then extending again as he focused on how he specifically related to the mystical energy field. Memories rushed through his head, memories of caretakers he barely knew, of a mostly absent father and mother, some of the sounds of approaching battle that he was always evacuated from. No...he held no joy for the Force, it had been a plague to who he was, its very existence had stolen his life and childhood from him, had caused wars and death and bloodshed...

 

"Resentment."

 

Aidan opened his eyes, finally, a small flicker of the silver flame dancing weakly in his palm. In his pupils the fire was reflected with a mild reddish tinge, but only those who looked hard would notice it, and none were present who would. He clenched his fist, extinguishing the flame, and rose to leave with his back turned.

 

"I...I could use a few moments alone. I apologize."

 

Aidan walked out of the room, pausing outside, hiding damp eyes. This wasn't what he'd come for. And that was when the comm came through. Wiping his face, he thumbed the device, showing the holographic projection of a gangly woman awkwardly addressing him.

 

“Um, Aidan Darkfire? My name is Sophia Moriarty. I knew your mother during the war…”

 

Pausing for a moment, Aidan simply turned the comlink off. He wasn't in the mood for prank calls, or to dwell on his mother. Over the years a great many people had tried to find and approach him, claiming to have known his parents, each famous for various things in their own right. Usually all they wanted was their own recognition, and were lying about any association. This was likely no different.

[Commissioner Mazzari]

Mazzari was amused at his new escort, but would definitely not turn it down. There were plenty of threats in this Galaxy, and he would enjoy the expert defense that the Imperial Guard was known for. Besides, it might also help to have these men mingle with his own officers and teach them a few things. Coruscant was going to be interesting, but he would do what he must. Someone needed to speak out and deliver the truth about what was going on in the Galaxy, it might as well be him.

 

He returned to the Scales of Justice and took a few hours preparing many messages to be sent out throughout CoreSec (or was it now ImpSec?). He needed to prepare his men for the divide as there was definitely going to be opposition to this move. All around CoreSec's facilities, men who were loyal to the idea of order and justice began quietly seizing assets and either moving them to a safe, hidden place or squirreling them away on site with new access codes. It was all in the regulations, but so few people bothered to read them. Nothing was violent and no force was to be used, but it was rapidly growing close to the time when CoreSec was going to split in two. Mazzari wished it wasn't to be that way, but he couldn't control everything and some sacrifices had to be made for the good of all.

 

As soon as messages were sent and plans put one step closer to motion, the corvette made its jump into hyperspace to go to Coruscant.

[Kala Ianauria]

Kala badly copied her Master’s pose, knowing from the slight pains in her joints that she needed a great deal of practice to Master even the most basic meditation forms. The thought might have made her nervous or frustrated, but her focus lay on the question of what connected her to the Force.

 

As her sat, she focused her conscious mind on just breathing, a Jedi technique she’d never mastered while at the Temple, the better to let her subconscious mind work through the question. The idea was simple, to create a rhythm of breathing that induced a trance state.

 

A state that in turn allowed a Jedi to better concentrate on the Force.

 

In theory, and in practice by older Padawans, Knights and Masters, the concept worked. For inexperienced Padawans like Kala, the concept rarely allowed them full contact with the Force. This time proved no different.

 

She quickly found the trance state, determined to succeed. But everytime the Force and her subconscious sent even the most ghostly image to her conscious mind, Kala broke the trance state and found herself starting back over.

 

The multiple restarts, the constant effort required to find her feeble connection to the Force began to frustrate her, began to irritate her in a way she knew led somewhere she did not want to go. At the end of that journey, she instinctively knew, lay the Sith.

 

Recognition of that risk helped her find calm. She never wanted her feet to trod the Path of the Sith. Not after the events of the Temple, not after watching a true Sith so effortlessly wield palpable and soul freezing evil as a weapon.

 

Not after he casually made her helpless than stripped away something precious from her and left her for dead in that decayed and broken mausoleum the Sith once called a temple.

 

Her subconscious began replaying snippets of her part in the battle for that place and eventually focused in on her battle with the Wookie madclaw. A single note of the Force played through her mind, one with a double echo in the past that blazed off into the far flung future. Something that brought images of the battle that were slightly more focused than before. Still hazy, still mostly unsubstantial except were the note and the images of the blonde woman intersected.

 

Than the note blazed loudly and the feeble trickle of the Force became a steady stream of light and sound that eased her anxiety and served as an answer to the question.

 

In that woman, Kala saw what she wanted to be. The warrior woman seemed serene, gentle, but strong and determined with a clear purpose.

 

A purpose Kala knew because the song of the Force sang to her to the woman’s purpose. The woman guarded the weak, the innocent, upheld them and with the light and song of the Force guided them in and against the darkness, no matter the cost.

 

Opening her eyes, Kala looked towards her Master. As she opened her eyes, she glimpsed her lightsaber floating, a tad wobbly, just above her knees with tongues of white and green fire faintly playing upon its length. Her eyes continued upward to her Master’s where they fully focused and locked.

 

“My connection to the Force,” she whispered in a voice that sang with conviction as the song of the Force quietly filled her heart, “lies in defending other sentients, to use my strength for the good of those without their own, without thought of recompense or privilege. To stand against any evil, at any cost, even that of my own life that others might live free and unharmed and doing so with virtue and faith as an living witness.”

 

She felt the words too formal and yet inadequate for what sang in her heart. So she sang softly, a complex composition that filled the air with her determination and gently strengthened and brightened the faint tongues of fire playing about her lightsaber’s handle.

[Raven Nasra]

Raven began the orders for new capital ships and dispatched them through a secure line to KDY on Kuat. All around the Imperial Remnant’s capital world, reconstruction was beginning, fires that had raged for weeks were finally doused and the gruesome task of body recovery had begun. Many small towns across the surface had been completely leveled by falling debris and the after fires that swept across the planet. Many such as the farming town of Kalsgrade and the Serpent Order’s temple housed there were left in ruins, their inhabitants killed or evacuated and the crops burned. Many such villages would not be repopulated for decades. Infrastructure building began almost immediately, with many temporary deployments of landing pads used for invasion being set up by the Fleet Corps of Engineers to help with Aide and evacuation efforts. Though prefab housing was cheap and fast to erect, Raven feared the environmental damage to the capital would take many more years to heal than the rebuilding of civilian housing would. Already there were reports of highly elevated greenhouse effects in the atmosphere, perhaps even localized flooding in the lowlands. It would be at least a decade according to the scientists at the Imperial Environmental Service before the planet began to turn around.

 

She looked sadly into the eyes of her old battle buddy and now friend Robert. “It saddens me that you have taken losses, I know that their sacrifices will be worth it in the end, the Sith will return.” She ran her hand through her dark hair and stood again. “Things should have been much better Robert, I fear we have gotten too far into this pit and we are still shoveling away. Right now we need to secure our access to the Perlemian Trade Route. We are within striking distance of Coruscant through that hyperlane. Which puts us in extreme danger of a first strike. If you can secure us an interdictor some Hapian interdiction mines and a new starfleet, I would be very grateful. I have sent the order for three new Imperial III star destroyers, two interdictors, and an assortment of corvettes to KDY, they will not be ready for some time. In the meantime, If you can establish a network on Coruscant in preparation for a strike if necessary, I will be forever in your debt.”

[Sandy Sarna]

The jedi starcraft emerged out of a small microjump into the depths of the Caridian System. Sandy triggered the comm broadcast system and hailed imperial traffic control. “This is Jedi shuttle Athsperion we are requesting a landing clearance to assist in humanitarian efforts and begin negotiations with the Remnant.” Sandy sat back and looked at the planet as they approached. Great furrows of burned terrain carved deeply into the surface of the surface. The planet screamed in the force. Terror, despair, loss, and anger. The Darkside was here, it laid heavily upon the planet echoing through the galaxy as a tear in the force. From holo reports nearly ten million people had died on Carida in the aftermath of the Sith Attack. It made her sick. She leaned back in her seat and looked at her master. She tried to hide the fear bubbling up in the back of her mind.

 

 

She cut the emotion off when the Imperials got back to her with their customary curtness. “You are cleared to land at section 40b at the Executive Offices. Do not variate from your course or you will be immediately destroyed.”

 

She grimaced as a dozed TIE defenders appeared on their wings. An escort, for sure but she could feel their fear as well. Some had lost friends and family in the attack and were looking for any excuse to let loose a few a few laser blasts into a shuttle from the core worlds. She carefully followed their landing plan and smiled at Tobias. “A little tense you think? What awaits us here?”

[Robert McNamara]

Something tingled in the back of Robert's mind. Like his danger sense when going into battle, but this was different. He knew he was not Force Sensitive, so this was a natural gut feeling that every solider felt- or died. It was a cautious moment, glittered with confusion. "Raven, I-" He stumbled for words, picking them very carefully. "Might I make a recommendation that you have Imperial Intelligence dig into that? Combat Troops do stick out like a Wookiee at a Noghri family reunion... I don't mean to question your orders. I just have this feeling that there is something that will fit the puzzle piece you're trying to find. You think they- the Galactic Alliance- would be so foolish to attack us? We are no laughing matter..."

 

His wrist buzzed- the chrono there was like a mini-datapad, he could view important reports sent to him. For Lisa to push one through while he was meeting with Raven, it must be important. Shooting a quick glance to the chrono, then back to the Head of State, Robert was unsure of whether or not to smile, or get his armor. Old habits did die hard, after all, and it was only one shuttle.

 

"And speaking of which, a Jedi Shuttle has just landed in Forty-b. Life scans indicate two humanoids. Should I have my troops mobilize with the Ysalamir to be ready for the visitors?" His gaze went back to Raven, whatever this was, he was ready to fight in order to get her to safety. His mind wandering to the familiar weight of the blaster at his hip.

[Tobias Vos]

Vos sighed in resignation. Sandy was keeping tight-lipped, and he was okay with that. Best to be on with business. He eyeballed the Defenders as they rose from the darkness of space to surround them. Following them down to the surface, then screaming back off to their next assignment. Vos was never worried, but he did examine the Force around him. There were.... holes. That meant only one thing. A smile stretched up the side of his face. With a deep breath, he replied to Sandy- "I think there are opportunities and partnerships awaiting here. What do you think?" he said with an airy tone.

 

As he got up to move to the back of the ship towards the landing ramp, he sent out a request to meet with Head of State Raven. He signed his name, and as a subject he included "The Peregrine Project" no doubt she was still waiting for the liaison from Dahar to show up here. Best not to blindside the leader of the up and coming Imperial forces- especially in their capitol- just after an attack... Vos made sure to check a locker for training sabers before making his way to the ramp.

[DoctorOblivious]

Even if the voyage to Carida had passed quickly, making it through customs was proving to be a nightmare. This wasn't Sophia’s first passage through Imperial space--her passport would attest to that--but when the crew of the aged Star Queen cut their passengers loose and sicced Imperial security on them, she found herself facing extensive delays.

 

Something had happened for the Imperials to see fit to increase security at the border. A pair of stormtroopers, clad in their immaculate gray armor, stood like statues beyond the border between interstellar space and Imperial soil.

 

Even if the voyage to Carida had passed quickly, making it through customs quickly proved to be a nightmare. This wasn’t Sophia’s first passage through Imperial space--her passport bore a number of holostamps which would attest to that--but when the crew of the aged Star Queen cut their passengers loose and sicced Imperial security on them, she found herself facing the type of soul-crushing delays that she had only seen on that occasion she had joined a former coursemate on an excursion to Dxun.

 

The memory of that expedition made her lips twitch despite the oppressively sterile conditions of the spaceport: white floors of faux-marble, blue-gray walls with viewports overlooking the nonstop caravans of space traffic flowing in and out of the spaceport, and the occasional banner bearing the Imperial ensign. A faint smell of disinfectant lingered in the frigid air and stung at Sophia’s brown-green eyes. A periodic automated address, pronounced crisply in the Imperial Academy-imparted accent, implored passengers of the usual warnings describing how to proceed through customs with minimal incident.

 

Sophia shivered and buttoned her jacket, tucking her hands into her sleeves. Despite the grime, foul smells, malfunctioning equipment, and the buzz of a hundred alien dialects, she had always preferred traveling between worlds in the Galactic Alliance. Poor hygiene or not, the overused and underfunded facilities always felt more real; certainly, the hundreds of species never hesitated to voice their misgivings, rather than keeping a stiff upper lip and keeping calm while the world was literally crashing down around their heads.

 

The line of travellers trudging forward with their bags between their knees to get past this final indignity of interstellar travel. After what must have been hours of delays due to heightened security, Sophia was able to glance around a crimson-skinned Twi’lek’s shoulder to spot a line of gray steel-plasticine cubicles manned by a crew of harangued officers… and just beyond, a pair of Imperial stormtroopers standing like statues in their gray plastoid armor, putting on a show of unceasing watchfulness with their carbines at the ready. More than a few of the customs agents seemed to be taking their time with the interviews.

 

The historian felt a bead of sweat trickle down her back despite the frigid atmosphere. Another advantage of traveling through Alliance space was that it was easy to lose oneself in the crowds. Here, Sophia felt as though she was being watched from six different angles.

 

Finally, Sophia was called forward and she found herself being interrogated by a scruffy, grumpy middle-aged man with a ruddy complexion, who seemed intent on finding suspicion with her planet of origin, her sex, her profession, her homeworld, her age, and the fact that someone had taken the last drop of stimcaf without starting a new pot. Or perhaps, carrying a number of Jedi relics in a sealed container through customs, she was feeling paranoid.

 

“Purpose of your visit?” Questioned the customs officer, putting on a show of reading through Moriarty’s papers, despite the fact that she knew perfectly well that the elder was carefully watching her reactions.

 

“Academic r-research.I’m a historian.” A snort from the customs officer. Evidently he didn’t think too highly of eggheads in their ivory towers.

 

“You're a long way from your libraries, Doctor Moriarty.”

 

“...true, but--”

 

“Anything to declare?”

 

“Yes, I have an isobaric case containing items of historical interest. The transfer authorization is right...” Sophia helpfully leaned forward to indicate the proper forms, indicating that the historian was in fact authorized to transfer these sensitive and likely unique Jedi artifacts out of Galactic Alliance space for academic inquiry. The customs officer frowned and glared at her brown hand, which stalled mid-air until Sophia withdrew it back to the edge of the middle-aged bureaucrat’s desk.

 

“A historian. What brings you out of Galactic Alliance space to Carida?”

 

“Serious scholarly inquiry requires primary sources. That is, interviews with people who were present at historical events, sensor data, recordings, transcriptions… opinions from experts in technical fields.” To her dismay, the hands probing through her passport paused and the man tilted his head ever so slightly, as though something had just caught his ear. Brought on by the stress of the moment, Sophia’s careful diction had slipped for a few seconds and revealed an accent that was rarely heard these days: an Alderaanian accent. Even more uncommon were sapient beings who had heard this nearly-extinct accent in person, though the customs officer wasn’t quite certain that he hadn’t imagined it.

 

“Hmm.” His gray moustache twitched. The customs officer had seen plenty of her type in his many years; biased historians who wrote political hack jobs under the cover of scholarly credentials. The majority of their work wasn’t fit for the refresher, let alone the study. A slew of highly-prejudiced histories had been released shortly after the end of the war, most of which cast the Imperials as cartoonish, goose-stepping fascists who went out of their way to inflict atrocities on Republic populations. “Then perhaps you would be interested in hearing the Imperial point-of-view for a change, rather than focusing your attention on biased Rebel sources.”

 

“I… well, in fact, I’m putting the finishing touches on a manuscript that is highly critical of the Jedi Order during the leadership of Grandmaster Kaipi.” Sophia felt her hands becoming clammy and tried not to cringe. Her accent had slipped again. “In it, I synthesized a number of viewpoints from both sides of the war--Jedi support staff and Imperial soldiers on the ground--and frankly, it casts a great deal of doubt over whether her tenureship was actually pro--”

 

“Your accent is very unusual, Doctor Moriarty. Where did you say you were from?”

 

“Borleias, suburb outside of Kadarr.” The historian felt something drop in her gut as she saw a muscle twitch in the officer’s gray-clad shoulder and heard a set of plastoid boots stamp forward.

 

“You’ll have to forgive us, Doctor, but we really must keep the queue moving. If you’ll follow this officer, we’d like to ask you a few more questions before we release you to your business. I’m sure that you understand that these times are rather historic. Have a lovely day, Doctor.”

 

And with that, Sophia found herself escorted by a stormtrooper away to an interrogation room, a tiny, oppressive booth in which she was left to literally sweat it out in the poorly-circulated space while the Imperials decided what to do with her. The historian forced herself to slow her breath; despite having been separated from her luggage and the Jedi archival devices, her credentials were immaculate and the Empire couldn’t threaten her with anything worse than deportation back to Coruscant along with her personal effects. Anything worse would risk a minor diplomatic incident; the movements of scholars were supposed to be protected.

 

But if there was a Jedi or a Force-User of some other sect monitoring the line, then this had the potential to be a uniquely terrible day… but it was best to not dwell on that possibility.

[Raven Nasra]

The gala planning was going well as far as Junior Moff Kensing Weyler was concerned. He was young for the Moff council, only 42, having risen in prominence after the events of the galactic civil war, mostly for his actions against pirates along the Perlemian Trade Route. His arm was a constant reminder of that abortive campaign. Underneath the synthflesh, the light hum of robotic servos was the constant reminder that he needed of his past. He picked up a wine glass and tested its thin stem with the robotic fingers, the glass did not snap and he placed it back on the white table clothed table. This gala had cost him nearly half of his yearly pay for his old position in the admiralty, almost a hundred thousand imperial credits. The drinks alone had been a quarter of that. He knew in his mind that no matter what dinner he threw or however much he spent, only time would give him grace in the eyes of the older Moffs. Kensing’s glass blue eyes flickered to the other moff who had arrived early, Achim Hastangel, a kindly old man who had the tendency to prattle on about the galactic civil war, almost always telling of the near victories scored by the likes of Phillep or other useless emperors like Geki. The story he seemed to be telling one of the lithe young servants was of the last battle the imperial fleet had won over Coruscant. The poor girl looked like she would likely retire for the evening and slit her wrists in one of the porcelain bathtubs in an effort to make the old man go away. She was nice looking so the always womanizing and chivalrous Moff Weyler decided to intervene.

 

“Now don’t forget to tell the young lady about the forty million civilian casualties your fleet managed to inflict after downing the rebel flagship, or the rivers of slag that were formed when turbolaser strikes missed the rebel ships by meters.”

 

The older Moff looked elegantly pissed before he remembered when the Gala was actually for. “Oh yes, as I was about to say Miss Travilin there was tragedy in the midst of victory-“ He tsk’ed with his tongue as the found that the young lady had taken the opportunity to escape. “Well played Kensing, Though I hope that your other company will be as stunning as her!” Kensing laughed and escorted the man to the table laden with drinks. The sound of approaching speeders announced the arrival of the rest of the party, Kensing poured himself a large cup of Ageis Mead and watched the party goers arrive.

_______

__________________

 

The Stormtrooper led the young Doctor Moriarty to a holding cell where Lieutenant Adam Kervitz sat looking over her travel holo-docs. Two grey armoured stromtroopers stood by the door with force pikes stood at attention at the doorway. He looked up and smiled at the lovely lady. She seemed very interesting, and given her answers, he might even ask for her comm number. But he would keep that to himself for now. Firstly there was business to attend to.

 

__________________

 

“As you wish Robert, I can assign this to ImpSec, but I would like you to begin planning a strike team against the GA to rescue Mazzari. He is being held, and given the GA’s tendency to overreaction this could lead us into a war. And when the war starts we need to ready." She looked out the window to the Jedi Shuttle. “Yes gather one and put it in this room. We can always take it out if their intentions are pure.”

[Lord MacLeod]

(The following actions with the Star Destroyer were Mod Approved and now back to regularly scheduled posting)

 

A flash of light signalled the exit of a massive warship from Hyperspace. It had a long triangular shape or so much as could be seen by the starlight. It was a class of ship not seen in that part of the galaxy in nearly twenty years but was instantly recognizable as a Tector-class Star Destroyer. This Star Destroyer had once had a storied past, having been the first command and later flagship of Grand Admiral MacLeod. He had commissioned the Agamemnon in his first year as a Captain and had served as her first commanding officer for two years until his promotion to Commodore had taken place. This time though the Agamemnon was making its last return to Cardia, limping its way back fatally wounded and struggling to remain in one piece long enough to deliver its Commander one final time.

 

Fires were raging throughout the ship and the suppression systems were offline due to structural damage from a Corellian frigate that had attempted to make a kamikaze run against the Star Destroyer. The shields had held, though they were down to minimum, barely enough to say that they were functioning. Much of the lower decks had been ripped open from collision and many of the stormtroopers and crew had been killed both in the initial damage as well as the ensuing attempt to repair as much of the lower decks as possible. Even the bridge had suffered damage as evidenced by several fallen girders one of which crushed the captain at the moment of collision.

 

The Grand Admiral sighed silently and ran his hand along the bent rail that overlooked the command deck and bridge control stations. The expedition beyond the Outer Rim had been a disastrous decision by the council and a gross waste of resources. He brushed a clump of ashes from the shoulder of the high collared leather jacket as he looked down at the skeleton crew manning the few remaining functional control stations. They were nearly within range of the planet, a few more kilometers left till they were in range.

 

“Admiral sir, engine four has flared out. All engines are inoperable and unable to be restarted.”

 

“Very well Lieutenant. Ensign, status report on the damage control?”

 

A harried looking young ensign stood up and removed his headset for a moment as he turned to look at the Grand Admiral. “Sir, the fire has spread to 60 percent of the ship and is two compartments away from the engine room. All automatic fire suppression systems are offline, fireteams are managing to keep the fire away from the engine room and the after armament. Forward armament was damaged by the collusion and nearly all of the ammunition stored there was lost due to the compartment being lost to space. Life support is down to 25 percent and we have 45 percent of escape pods available.”

 

Grand Admiral MacLeod straightened up and looked out the forward viewport for a moment as he made his decision. Though his decision was made significantly easier when the fire reached one of the stormtrooper armories and ignited the cache of thermal detonators.

 

“Sir! Sgt Wagner reports that the explosion has dealt critical damage to the internal structure of the ship and that it is beginning to break up. We have loss of atmosphere throughout the ship and have lost another ten percent of the ship to the void.”

 

“Lieutenant. Sound abandon ship.”

 

“Yes Sir, Your shuttle is ready in bay two.”

 

Seconds later, the klaxon alarm began to ring throughout the remnant of the ship, the piercing sound ringing out over the crackle of the fire and dull thud of detonators cooking off. He stood there for a moment looking out at the planet as the bridge crew quickly left their stations for the escape pods. Soon he was alone except for a single stormtrooper standing a bit behind him that was waiting to escort him to the shuttle.

 

“Sir? It is time to go. Everyone has left the ship now, we should get to the shuttle before the ship breaks up.”

 

Luke turned his head towards the stormtrooper. “You are right Sergeant, time to depart.”

 

He reached out stroked the rail one final time as he took in the view of the bridge for the last time. “Fair well Agamemnon, you served the Imperium and in turn myself very well.” He turned to the stormtrooper sergeant and nodded and they left the bridge. They proceeded down two ladders and headed aft towards the shuttle bay. Along the way they passed by a training bay that was smashed and had flames nearly reaching to the ceiling. As they passed by the bay, a detonator fell from a rack into the flames then rolled into a puddle leaking coolant still trailing flames.

 

Luke caught sight of it as it rolled and swung the leather coat up over his face and yelled cover as the detonator exploded. Shrapnel flew through the air, some of it sticking in the outer layer of his leather coat and a larger piece piercing the hip joint of the stormtroopers armor and knocking him to the ground.

 

“Can you walk Sergeant?”

 

“No Admiral. Leave me and get to the shuttle Sir.”

 

“ I think not Sergeant, give me your hand.”

 

He reached down and grasped the sergeant's hand and pulled him to his feet. He wrapped the sergeant’s arm around his shoulder and the two of them staggered to the shuttle bay where they were met by two other troopers who took the sergeant from him and helped the sergeant on board the shuttle followed by the Grand Admiral.

 

“Take us out of here.”

 

The shuttle lifted off from the ship and headed toward Cardia following behind the escape pods that had already launched. Soon they were challenged by Imperial control as to their intentions and identity. The pilot turned back to the Grand Admiral with a question in his voice.

 

“Send my access code and rank, then proceed to the nearest landing pad. Order them to prepare to receive casualties from the Agamemnon.”

 

Almost as soon as the response had been sent, one of the stormtroopers looked out the aft viewport then beckoned to the Admiral. “Sir, the Agamemnon is in its death throes.”

 

“Move.”

 

Luke stepped to the view port as a massive crack that stretched along the broken hull of the Agamemnon grew then fractured into smaller cracks that broke apart. Flames could be seen through the cracks as the ship writhed in its final agony and Luke drew himself up to attention and called the remainder of the shuttle to attention then held his salute as the ship broke apart, its final duty complete.

 

The shuttle landed a half hour later and the Grand Admiral disembarked from the shuttle to be met by an honor guard that wore neither the white stormtrooper armor nor the black armor of the death trooper. He frowned as he looked on the oddly colored armor then proceeded to march up to the guard commander who was a small man that didn’t look tall enough to be a stormtrooper, let alone a commander.

 

“Inform your Commander that Grand Admiral MacLeod has returned from beyond the Outer Rim.”

 

“Admiral, begging your pardon but are you aware that you are bleeding? The left side of your face is bleeding profusely and there is shrapnel stuck in your coat which if I may be honest is quite out of dress, as is the sabre that you are wearing.”

 

“Lieutenant.” Luke’s voice grew cold and the steel tone of command crept its way into his words. “I gave you an order, I did not ask for your opinion."

[DoctorOblivious]

Sophia found herself escorted deeper into the spaceport--a much more utilitarian section of the facility--by a stormtrooper with a force pike. The assault trooper was silent, save for the periodic, mechanically-deadened “left” or “right” from his helmet-mounted speakers.

 

Security theatre, the historian reflected; a display of force intended to reassure the populace that the present crisis was well under control, when in reality all authorities were concerned that their security was rather porous. What was a stormtrooper with a polearm going to accomplish if a Sith or some type of maniac bent on martyrdom decided to attack Carida? The Imperial were by no means secure in their current position, and they knew it. Which, of course, made things all the worse for the sweating Sophia, having been singled out for further inspection by an old codger who was either prejudiced or paranoid.

 

“Through that door and take a seat,” intoned the anonymous voice. A blast door flanked by the walls of an obviously reinforced room hissed open, revealing a holding cell with a permacrete floor, steel walls, and at least one holocam mounted in a corner to observe the proceedings. The only furnishings inside were a cheap, government-issue metal desk and two identically-styled chairs, one of which was occupied by a young Lieutenant in the olive-grey of Imperial service. Two more stormtroopers stood on either side of the door, armed with force pikes.

 

Another bead of cold sweat trickled down Sophia’s sides. Was this standard? Who in the blazes did the Empire think that they were dealing with?

 

The young officer looked up from his captive’s documents and smiled politely, though Sophia detected a minute crinkle at the corners of his eyes that suggested that the smile wasn’t entirely professional. Just what she needed… Sophia sat and then was silent, with her olive fingers perched on the lip of the table between her and the young Imperial officer. The scholar just looked at him with a neutral expression on her face, obviously nervous but putting forward a good effort to not break down or be rude to a man who had it in his power to make her life miserable.

 

But she wasn't about to say the first words.

[Kyrie Eleison]

A trickle of unbound fire spread about the young apprentice Aidan, of pure white and took on the form of a small girl, her stature small and shy. When she spoke, it was with the voice of his master

 

It is hard to trust in the Force, Aidan, when you blame it for all the wrongs in this world. For those that have killed in the name of one side or the other until it all blends into a mess of death, do not blame The Force.

She reached out with a small hand, showing streaks of crimson forming scars upon silvered flame.

 

A man may wield the Force, to use it to heal, or to destroy... To become a king, a beast, a warrior, and to some a God. The Force can be a tool…

 

The crimson disappeared in the clenching of a tiny fist

 

Or it can be the salvation of the lost. I too have lost everything to those that wielded it in darkness. Take your time, we fight for a greater power.

 

The bright eyes glittered emerald and then darkened as the figure dissipated into ashes about the young man.

 

---

 

The Exorcist’s eyes fluttered open as she regarded Kala with a kind smile, listening to the girl’s hard conviction and righteous piety. Kyrie motioned to the apprentice with a gloved hand, her fingers calling her long handled blade to eager fingers. She stood slowly, and beckoned the apprentice to do the same. The Exorcist could feel the fatigue seizing at her muscles with a grasping weight, almost as though her joints were formed of lead.

 

“Words of strength, worthy of a warrior.”

 

Two squads of stormtroopers entered, armed with stunblasters. Their armour was padded and the typical colour of sunbleached bone.

 

“These are your men and women. The training arena will help you and Aidan sharpen your skills. Each of you will command two squads against the best the Empire has to offer, led by the Empress herself… Let’s show her that The Imperial Knights is a program worthy of her investment.”

[Haphaestus]

The Helios's reflective nickel-colored hull shone in the light of the Caridan sun like the mythological deity after which it was named as it descended toward the world that had frequently been the seat of Imperial power in lieu of an Empire-controlled Coruscant. Aboard were two Sith, of a sort, though they had taken every precaution to conceal their dark side talents and were here representing not the Sith Order but Lemnos Industries, their up-and-coming droid design and manufacturing company based out of Nubia.

 

Indeed, Haphaestus had not made contact with the Order in years, and his apprentice Kitaara never had, and so he barely considered either of them Sith at this point. He doubted the Remnant would care for the distinction, however, given the scope of the destruction that he now witnessed through the Nubian ship's augmented sensors, allegedly caused by a Sith attack. Honestly, he was rather curious if the blame had been cast correctly, as it had been many years since the Order had maintained a fleet to his knowledge; their numbers were too few. They certainly hadn't the resources when he was Dark Lord in the early days of the Galactic Alliance. He was hoping to gain some insight into the matter while he was here, although it was not his primary purpose.

 

No, this was a business trip. Dressed in an orderly fashion with crisp clothing that hung closely to his not-quite-human frame and an ornate mask adorned with a subtle breathing apparatus, he looked for all the universe like an exotic alien businessman. The Twi'lek accompanying him, Kitaara Shiri, required no deception to appear her radiant self, though perhaps her attire and complexion did belie her cunning mind and Force training.

 

Compensating for Carida's unusually high gravity, Haphaestus piloted the ship down to one of a series of landing pads servicing the Remnant's charity gala. He lowered the boarding ramp and gestured to Kitaara. "After you," he said. He would play a support role here. While Kitaara rubbed shoulders with the Remnant's social and political elite and perhaps manage to wrangle a verbal contract for Lemnos, he would innocuously pursue secondary social objectives and gather information.

[Aidan Darkfire]

Aidan sighed as the flames flickered out. He knew she was right. But had she lost everything to the light yet, as well? Darkness wasn't the only force of evil in the galaxy. He could have taken time like Kyrie suggested, but before he came here he'd had all the time he needed. The painful reminder was simply that, twisting the knife in the wound, but it wasn't a wound he was going to let get in his way of becoming that power for good. He wouldn't let it get in the way of emphasizing everything good the Empire once helped build, and purging its evils and the evils of its enemies. After all, what didn't kill him, only made him stronger.

 

Right about then two lines of stormtroopers marched past him, entering the room he'd just left. Curious, he entered in behind them but stuck to the back of the room, catching the last part of what Kyrie was telling the other pupil. Kala, he thought he heard the general call her. He still didn't know her rank. Or his own, for that matter.

 

So much of this seemed rushed, like the Empire was struggling to get back on its feet after being asleep for many years. It was less an organized machine and more a lot of good people with noble ideals but no idea how to turn them into a power for good. Well...the best way to change an organization, especially one like this, was from the inside, Aidan thought. And they were to participate in a training exercise...moreover, Aidan was expected to lead a group, with little combat experience of his own. At least he could use a blaster...

 

Patiently, he waited in the back of the room for the general to address him.

[Robert McNamara]

Robert cleared his throat. High priority visitors seemed to be coming out of the woodwork all of a sudden. "I'll have Adams start doing the ground work for the retrieval. And... a few guards should be here with a Ysalamir shortly. Hopefully soon they train the vornskyrs up to par, shortly, I hope. Meanwhile, I'll stay here. If they try anything..." his voice trailed off- already thinking about who, what, where, what's their plan, what is going one, how to get this Mazzari, and how he wished he had one of those Force-Sensitive Beasts here with him- the predator. He swallowed and eyeballed the room with how to fight inside it, should he need to.

 

Within a few minutes, however, he would have six troopers walk through that door with two Ysalamir inside nutrient frames, and a response squad one floor up that held another Ysalmir and plenty of stunning weapons for Robert's liking. Half ready to rappel down the outside of the building. If it came down to it, he would have ample backup against their VIPs. Lisa was patched into his neural link, and Robert just had to think in order to communicate with her. She was onboard, and helping get things ready.

[Kitaara Shiri]

Tonight, the Weyler Benefit Gala was the stage, Kitaara the performer, and the Imperial Remnant her audience. As they entered with a steady stream of well-dressed patrons and Kitaara handed her luxurious cloak to a valet, she reflected on the wisdom of her choice to pick up a new outfit for the event. A glittering, crisscrossing headpiece of silvery gems adorned her lekku. Her dress, the neckline plunging nearly to her waist, was open in the back and composed almost entirely of the same shimmering jewels. With the reflection of her rich azure skin, the overall impression was that she herself was made of aquamarines.

 

The only thing Kitaara did not enjoy about her current state of dress was that her lightsaber, normally hidden at her side, could not be found on her person. Of course, she was deadly enough without it, but there was something comforting about the knowledge that it was available to her at any time. For the purposes of this event, she had left it aboard the Helios.

 

En route to Carida, the time Kitaara had not spent sleeping had been given to pouring over and memorizing every slide in the guest list. There was little else she could have done to be more prepared.

 

Haphaestus walked half a pace behind her as she entered, two of their Enyo 130s flanking the pair of them. As they entered the main ballroom, she spotted a row of officers in Imperial dress congregated around the bar, culminating with their host, Junior Moff Kensing Weyler.

 

"I'm going to get something to drink," Kitaara said slyly, her focus narrowing in on the Moff like the scope of a rifle.

 

The train of her dress kissed the hardwood floor as she crossed the center of the room brazenly. As she approached Weyler, conversation seemed to die as the brilliant color of her skin and the suggestive cut of her dress caught the appreciative eyes of the officers surrounding him.

 

"Moff Weyler? Kitaara Shiri of Lemnos Industries," she said throatily, extending her hand to him and offering a deep curtsey. "On behalf of my company, allow me to express my appreciation for the honor of your invitation."

[Raven Nasra]

Raven paced before the giant holoviewscreen that took up the back section of her office. The return of the Tector-class Star Destroyer Agamemnon had Imperial Space Command in complete disarray. Ground and space based sensor suites tracked the launch of a flurry of escape pods, analyzed their trajectory and dispatched exhausted recovery crews to their ground based crash points. The pods that did not have a planet trajectory were labeled and recovery crews from the dry docked Star Destroyer Teradoc rushed to recover their space bound long lost Imperial friends. The whole situation was worrying to Raven, Grand Admiral Luke Macleod, or at least that was the name handed to her from a clerk from ISC, had not been heard of for over a decade after the battle Gromas against the Arach'tar. It had been theorized when Raven had sent recall orders to all erstwhile imperial forces that Grand Admiral Macleod had pursued the Arach'tar into the darkspace at the edges of the galaxy and had perished there. Her heart chilled a bit at the destroyed state the Agamemnon and all imperial forces were scrambled in case the Agamemnon had been pursued. If the Arach'tar returned, it was only fitting that they would strike the weakest of the major powers in the Galaxy.

 

When Grand Admiral Macleod landed, the imperial honour guard commander was taken aback by his manner and dress. But his comm told him explicit orders to not interfere with the Grand Admiral. A little too late for the man to not shoot his mouth off with old imperial gusto. He marched the Admiral to the Head of states office, where Raven would be treating with the Jedi delegation. The Imperial Guard at the door to Raven’s office, wore red armour and carried the traditional force pike of the old imperial royal guard. They did not wear helmets or capes. The head of the guard, a mid thirties blonde named William Clephane inclined his head to the Grand Admiral. “Grand Admiral, head of State Raven Zinthos is meeting with the Jedi delegation, she left word that you are welcome to join her at your convenience. The door is open to you, as long as you disarm.” William had served with MacLeod onboard the ISD Imperial Vengeance over a decade before. He was not overly willing to detain the Grand Admiral and hoped he would disarm willingly. He was glad that Robert remained with the Head of State.

 

________________________________

 

The Jedi were escorted into the Imperial Head of States office after disarming. When they entered they would be covered in the bubble of the Ysalamir. Which would be most disorienting for the young Jedi Apprentice.

________________________________

 

The young officer looked at Sophia with a mixture of interest and slight anxiousness. “I apologise for detaining you for the moment, but with strict policies in place after the Sith Attack, I hope you can understand. Can you tell me again what your interest here on Carida is?” He had heard academic research on a topic about Jedi from the early report and the cargo she carried which was getting carefully analysed by a forensics expert in the next room over had reported to be some kind of Jedi Artefacts. Why she had brought them here of all places concerned him.

________________________________

 

Moff Kensing Weyler let out a low whistle as the blue skinned twi’lek came through the main entrance in elegant appearance and flanked by what appeared to be some kind of security droids. He elbowed Hastangel in the ribs, “Well there is something you don’t see every day on an imperial world. Look how the crowds part before her. I guess you can say many of the imperials here are trying not to get their suits stained by an alien breathing on them.” He and Hastangel laughed at the humour in the situation. The old world xenophobia felt so stale when there were such beautiful things like that twilek to look at. And to add to that, she was coming right for them. He quickly made a calculation in his head for her appearance and age in ryloth years and came to the conclusion that she was legal to bed anywhere in the civilized galaxy. And she knew his name. What a treat. He took her hand and kissed it. Causing a exasperated sigh from Moff Hastangel.

 

“The pleasure is all mine lady Shiri, we have been looking at your droid selection since receiving the brochure a few weeks ago. With the many losses we had taken in the fight against the Sith Mercenary forces, we surely could use some of them.” He knew she was only here for business, maybe she would want to spice up the deal somehow.

 

A young imperial fleet officer sat alone at the snack table, carelessly looking at her food. Beth Andromina, the leader of the 189th starfighter command did not have an appetite for such a social event. She had finished writing nearly fifty letters to families of pilots who had died under her command over a week ago, she knew the importance of such a Gala, and her uniform made her lithe 25 year frame stunning, so there was plenty of opportunity for Daalaesque sleeping promotion, but she was more concerned with pushing some cal-shrimp absentmindedly around her plate.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy walked through the bustling imperial facility shoulder to shoulder with her Master Tobias. In a world populated by imperials in the grey, black, or white uniforms, the earth colours of her green robe and tunic made her feel very out of place. There was no doubt that this was a military base, not a civilian city. There were no shops to look at beautiful trinkets, there was a busy PX store but it required a military ID that she did not possess. And though the temptation to try a mind trick to look in the shops was high, she knew it would likely end with her in stun offs and a very disappointed master. So she denied her teenage ambitions and continued with the mission. They were led through a series of turbolifts and passageways that looked spartan or even bare in the old imperial style. There was little love here that she could feel. Mostly remorse, sadness, despair, and cold determination for revenge. She looked to her master, “I don’t think I could ever be at home here, there is no love here, only duty. It reminds me of the police I used to run away from back on Gala.” She shrugged slightly and they walked into the Head of States office. Instantly she felt nothing at all. Her arms, wounds, and all the pain she was holding back suddenly slammed into the back of her skull with no force to keep it back. She coughed and held onto Tobias’s arm. There was no force here, no voices echoing at the back of her brain, no whispers and tendrils. Other than the pain, there was total peace. She managed a bow to the head of state and closed her eyes against the wave of pain that cascaded from her arms into her spine.

[Kitaara Shiri]

Kitaara offered a solemn nod, respectfully acknowledging the losses Carida had sustained over the previous weeks, but her heart quickened at the mention of Sith forces. So, the rumors were true. The attacking fleet had belonged to the Sith, and had also been decimated in the battle. She would likely have to dig for additional information, but such a task would not prove too difficult if the lecherous glint in his eyes were any indication. In the Force, his thoughts were practically shouting his carnal intent.

 

"We are thrilled at the opportunity to assist the Imperial Remnant in obliterating lawless terrorists, beginning with a donation to the relief effort this evening," she said, prolonging the release of Moff Weyler's hand just long enough to be noticeable, "and a demonstration of our droids' capabilities at your leisure."

 

Turning to the elderly man seated alongside him, knowing that this was Lemnos' true target, she offered her hand with a second curtsey. "Please, forgive my rudeness, sir," she purred in her delicate Ryloth accent. "You are Moff Achim Hastangel, are you not?"

[Tobias Vos]

Vos allowed the Imperial Guards to- detain their weapons- or at least those they could find. He knew he would not need his blade here. All while during their trek through the City, Vos kept wary of Sandy's swirling thoughts. "One could say that the Imperials mix the two together- Love and Duty. They love their order and control, they love serving a higher purpose- as do most of the sentient beings in the galaxy- ergo why there are always such a flocking to the charismatic leaders of the Galaxy. That and- they just suffered a major attack, with space debris falling down anytime now across the world. Most of these people will have their duty on their mind- their job. All gears in the machine. Never forget that someone may want the same thing you do-but they may walk a different path all together. The Jedi want Peace and Order- the Galactic Alliance wants Peace and Order- Imperials- even the Sith do on some level- but we all walk a different path to that objective."

 

Vos got a little- shifty- as they walked through the hallways towards the Head of State's office. In a whisper meant only for his padawan's ears- "Sandy, if you need to leave this meeting at any point- do so without interruption. This will be... weird."

 

Without breaking pace they stepped through the threshold of the Ysalamir's Force-absent Bubble. Vos let a wave a nausea wash over him with him shutting his eyes momentarily. Clearing his throat and opening his eyes to the decor- He identified the solider with the nutrient frame of the lizard, and also- the secondary one. Six guards- two with Ysalamir- one commando with a trimmed beard- bald head and in dress uniform. His hand resting, obviously, on his blaster that hung from his hip. The commando called out to the two. The background of the room fell into place as he felt Sandy grip his jacket, this was a brand new experience for her it seemed. Vos filled with regret as he realized how her body language was speaking.

 

"Greeting Master Jedi, you've seen the precautions we've taken in light of recent events. Forgive us for taking these measures. I am McNamara, and this is Imperial Head of State Raven Zinthos. You've requested this meeting, what brings you to us?" McNamara said, cool and modulated.

 

"McNamara, My Lady." A bow of Tobias's head in each of their directions. "I am Tobias Vos, and this is my apprentice- Sandy Sarna. I apologize showing up this way, but I hope that this overdue meeting can be more beneficial to you than myself and the Jedi Order, at the moment. I have three corvettes with trained medical staff, supplies, and droids that await my order to jump here for assistance. That is the most pressing concern, and I would like to get them here as soon as possible. I'm going to reach into my pocket and pull out a Datapad... okay?" Vos looked around at all the troopers in the room- six ways he was going to get shot at if he did anything suspicious. Even though- they were in the heart of the Imperial Capitol, it was kind of good in a way. Showed that they weren't complacent or overconfident.

 

McNamara's shoulders shifted- and with a glance to Raven and back to the Jedi- he nodded and extended his hand as he walked closer towards the Jedi. With slow and deliberate action Vos pulled out a datapad that held the scope of the Corvettes and their cargo- only. With the carefulness of being severely outmatched, he reached in and slowly took out the datapad, handing it to McNamara's outstretched hand. Glancing over it, he felt no trace of poison, and the detection crews would have already scanned for explosives or traces of anything. He walked over to hand it to Raven.

 

Vos looked down to Sandy- her presence in the Force was of course absent, and that made Tobias worry about how she was handling this. He wanted to say something- anything to get her out from under the ysalamiri effect. There was no clue to how she would react- or handle this... crutch. He didn't like it either, but this was the Imperials... they didn't like being told to do things by outsiders. But if they were going to be business partners, or something more... more had to be considered.

 

"If everything is in order- I can call those ships in at any time. The message is already pre-programmed into our ship- all I need to do is send it. If I do that- however- I would ask that the ysalamir be taken from the room. I would like my connection with the Force returned." Tobias was trying to keep all the attention on him, Sandy was here to learn- if she was distracted or felt guilty at all about influencing this little pow-wow- simply neither would do it would distract her from listening and learning. So he kept it about him. The history of the Ships were on there- the cargo- crew manifests- one hundred percent transparency for the sake of the newly attacked government. Both of the Jedi were uneasy but holding their own. He wasn't going to make Sandy signal him in any way- this was going to be taken care of now. Her well-being was always his first priority- and she was clearly not ready to handle the Force being taken from her.

[Lord MacLeod]

“Grand Admiral, head of State Raven Zinthos is meeting with the Jedi delegation, she left word that you are welcome to join her at your convenience. The door is open to you, as long as you disarm.”

 

"I will relinquish the sidearms, the sabre remains in my possession."

 

The guard commander was taken back by his reaction and paused for a moment then agreed to the change. Luke removed the first of his sidearms and handed it over to one of the other members of the honor guard before removing the second sidearm and handing it over.

 

"Thank you Sir. The Head of State is waiting for you inside her office. By the way Sir, your face is bleeding."

 

Luke nodded and stepped forward to the office door then paused. "Good to see you again Major. Carry on" He opened the door and marched inside, his heels striking a perfect cadence as he strode past the Jedi and took up his place to the right of Raven's desk. His left hand rested on the engraved pommel of the sabre as he looked at the Jedi then acknowledged Raven with an incline of his head. As he did, he could feel trail of blood running down his face and following the lines of his patrician face.

 

"Ma'am."

[Haphaestus]

Haphaestus strode slowly through the assembled patricians, military officers, philanthropists and sycophants, gleaning bits and pieces of conversation as he did so. Overwhelming sentiment was that the Sith Order was responsible for the attack. Their Temple here had been purged not long before the battle, and the move could have been either retaliatory or merely antagonistic. Crowd opinion was not firmly in either camp. Haphaestus had his own theories, but would require a conversation with the attacking force's leader or the current Dark Lord if he was going to correctly gauge the Order's direction and his role in it, if any.

 

But only half of him was focused on eavesdropping. His ponderous but steady footsteps had soon carried him to a nearby balcony, from whence he gazed as far as he could toward the horizon. The shatterpoint that had contributed to his decision to make this journey had at the time been faint, but now to one trained in the art of sensing it, it was a gaping tangle of probabilities that hung over Carida like the maw of a planet devouring beast. Whether it was at the gala itself or after it, something important was going to happen before he and Kitaara left. Not just something that would affect Lemnos Industries, either. And he thought he knew what it was.

 

The incognito Sith Master lingered for another moment on the balcony, an air of brooding clinging to him despite his masked countenance, before he turned back to the party. There was someone eyeing him curiously. He inclined his head politely as he approached them. "I am Designer Vulkas of Lemnos Industries," he introduced himself. "Perhaps you have heard of us..."

 

He had no fondness for proselytizing, even when it concerned the company into which he had poured his soul for the past year, but duty and canny dedication ensured his distaste would never keep him from doing what was best.

[DoctorOblivious]

Sophia’s hands remained on the lip of the metal table. The pit in her stomach had not yet been filled; the historian suspected that the interest in Kervitz’s expression was more than merely professional. The thought of an Imperial officer having an intimate curiosity in her as a woman, while having immediately power over her freedom...

 

“I’m here to interview an expert regarding those artifacts in my manifest. I suspect that they might be heirlooms, actually. One of the artifacts is a holocron that I have tentatively dated for roughly 4,000 BBY.” Sophia’s face blanched when the acronym slipped out; referring to the Battle of Yavin was likely a bit of a faux pas in the Imperial capital. “I mean, some time around the Jedi Civil War. I need an expert to confirm my suspicions, to determine whether they’re genuine and whether any of the information from either of the artifacts can be trusted. I’m not about to begin writing a history on the war unless I know that my source material can be trusted.

 

“And, once that’s finished, I’d like to get in contact with some of the veterans’ groups on Carida. A perspective that’s not often covered in some of the recent publications..." Despite herself, Sophia's jaw tensed and that last word came out almost as an obscenity. It was clear how low an opinion she had of most of those works. "...Is that of the people who were wearing white.”

[Kala Ianauria]

Kala’s heart stopped at her Master’s words. She felt the pain of the loss of the troopers at the Sith temple all of over again, revisited the memory of the Captain’s death all over again. Strength from deep inside the Force overwhelmed the grief, fear, and terror of that fateful march. As her subconscious helped sweep away the memories, she became aware of the troops in front of her.

 

An echo of emotion from the Force drew her feet forward from where she stood. Inexperienced in the Force, she did not know enough to give name to the emotion. Yet it still drew her foreword until she found herself a couple of ranks deep within the troops and facing a trooper slightly shorter than she expected.

 

The trooper’s bone white armor lacked any identifying mark save a serial number: R1V33R3D903C.

 

Kala found herself only slightly shorter than the trooper, but unable to meet his or her eyes because of the trooper’s helmet. She stared into those soulless prisms for a moment before she felt and acknowledged someone standing beside her.

 

A modulated voice quietly asked her, “Is there a problem, Knight Ianauria?”

 

She turned to find a trooper whose armor bore the same markings as the Captain that saved her in the Sith temple.

 

“Captain,” she said, “Tell me about this trooper.”

 

“What do you need to know ma’am?”

 

Kala kept staring at the trooper for several more moments before replying, trying to understand exactly what she felt through the Force.

 

A Jedi maxim flitted through her mind about using the Force for knowledge and defense. She calmed herself and let the Force flow through her. Close up to the trooper, just about face to face, she recognized notes in the song of pain, of hate, but overlaid and wound about with deep and terrible sorrow.

 

“Let me see your face.”

 

She sensed the trooper’s hesitation as did the Captain.

 

“You heard her,” barked the Captain’s modulated voice, “Get that bucket off.”

 

The trooper ‘s hesitation ended at the Captain’s order. Gauntleted hands reached up, unlatched and removed the helmet.

 

Hard brown eyes in a scarred face of a young woman stared defiance back at her. Beneath the pattern of scars, she recognized a tattoo far too familiar to her.

 

The sigil of her former house stared back at her. At its’ sight, Kala snarled something completely un-intelligible. Nothing happened on the outside, but she felt several of the trooper’s tense. She kept her focus on the trooper before her though notes of worry swirled into the song from the troopers and the Captain.

 

“Was it willing?” she asked the trooper, still whispering.

 

In a menace filled voice even quieter than Kala’s, she replied, “I was [/i]bought[/i] on Nar Shadaa when I was five to serve the Lady of Ianauria.”

 

“You are not much older than me.”

 

The soldier’s scarred face smiled, but her eyes did not.

 

“When I was twelve, a set of fine glasses went missing and the Lady Ianauria blamed me for their loss. She sent me to a brothel for the soldiers of your family.”

 

“You never arrived there, did you?” said Kala. “Your one of the ones that escaped with the aid what my father called that ‘damned Underground’”.

 

She met the eyes of the trooper moment for moment in a strange battle of wills. The moment stretched out for several heartbeats. Both struggled to come to find something to say.

Kala spoke first, “What’s your name Trooper?”

 

“I took the name River.”

 

The Captain corrected her, “Its an old tradition of taking a new name when you enter Imperial service. Its not really taken, more earned and given by your fellow soldiers.

 

“I see,” said Kala. The idea of being accepted by these men and women, of earning a name of her own held an appeal and created a desire in her she did not yet fully understand.

 

During the moment that Kala and the Captain spoke, the trooper sorted out some kid of internal argument and spoke, “Lady, I have a message for you. It comes from the woman whom rescued us that day.”

 

The Captain and Kala both stared River whom did not wait for either to give her permission before speaking.

 

“Never turn your back to an open window.”

 

Kala needed a moment to steady herself after hearing those words. Her governess had been rescuing people directly under her father’s nose.

 

It also seemed her governess’s lessons were multi layered.

 

Kala looked at River and responded, “You might miss the sun chasing shadows.”

 

“Ma’am?” asked the Captain.

 

“My governess left me a message,” said Kala. “Concerning this trooper.”

 

The message had a deeper meaning than that of course but Kala did not need to speak of it here and now.

 

She did need to command her troops, though, and there were more than just River to deal with. An instinct told her, though, as long as the question of her family title remained, than that would be extremely difficult.

 

“Captain, do you have a knife handy?”

 

“Yes Knight Ianauria.”

 

Kala reached back behnd her head and undid the ties that bound her hair into the elaborate coif that marked her as nobility on Kuat. Her hair fell straight and long to the middle of her back.

 

“Trooper River,” said Kala, “Cut it off,” even as she turned her back towards her.

 

Trooper River took the Captain’s knife and hesitated a mere moment before reaching up to grab Kala’s hair and with a single slashing motion shortened the long tresses until Kala’s hair ended raggedly just above her neck.

 

Kala felt stronger, as if she’d committed to something larger than herself. Had she turned about, she might have seen River take a fairly large amount of that hair and stow it in a small side pouch.

Neither River nor the Captain said a single world over the matter. Later, in the barracks, River would explain to her fellow troopers and her Captain what had happened.

 

River put her helmet back on as Kala turned and walked to the front of her troopers. The Captain joined her.

 

Kala turned to the Captain. “What was your schedule for today, Captain?”

 

“Basic conditioning, followed by live fire and tactics training on the assault courses."

 

“Let’s go Captain.”

[Raven Nasra]

Raven held up her hand, and the Imperial Guard lowered their defenses, “I bid you a friendly welcome to the imperial heartland, as broken as it may be in these troubled times.” With a flick of her pale hand, the Soldier with the nutrient frame bowed and left the room. Leaving the Jedi able to use their force talents yet again. “Your frigates and ships are most welcome as well Master Vos, and they are given clearance to land and assist in the recovery actions. This is a most generous gift…” She let her dark brows furrow. “What is it that you require in return?” She may have been to the Moff Politik of a constant back and forth of political favours. But she had little doubts that the jedi did this as well. She looked at his apprentice who looked more pale than a Hothan winter. Poor thing. She was about to comment, when a third visitor appeared at the doorway. Her heart nearly skipped a beat. He looked much the same as he had many years before, when the recruitment posters that littered the core worlds featured his face. Back when Geki, Black, and eventually Deton Rusic fought for the imperial throne.

 

His hair was close trimmed in the traditional military style that was still popular as ever even two decades later. Though his hair had taken a bit of grey from stress and aging. His eyes still glowed with the fire that had pierced her heart when she had been a young girl looking to enter the stormtrooper ranks. His face was bleeding from a shrapnel wound, dripping in a crimson river down his lined face and onto his leather jacket. Splattering his campaign badges with little flecks of blood that contrasted with their well worn appearance. To all he might appear a terrible figure to behold, but to her he would be a first sign of a turning in imperial fortunes.

 

“Welcome Grand Admiral Macleod. How fared your mission to the outer rim in pursuit of the Arach'tar?”

_________________________________

The imperial officer’s eyes narrowed in slight suspicion, she had used the phrase BBY. Before the battle of Yavin. The imperial massacre of Yavin. Imperial scholars used the term ORE for Old Republic Era and NOE for New Order Era. Those of course had never cought on, and had in fact caused quite a bit of confusion in working between regions, as calendars never matched. He would let that go, BBY and ABY were widely used even in the Remnant. A sad culture shift from the decade they had been a part of the Galactic Alliance. He drummed his fingers on the tabletop. “One last question Ma’am, who is the expert you will be interviewing? I can give you the number for the Nulli Secunda which would be able to take you through their archives. And give you holofootage from a first person perspective as well as after action reports. I will however need your Comm Info for that.”

_________________________________

Moff Achim Hastangel let a sly grin creep across his sallow face. He took the blue twi’lek’s hand in the Old Imperial style and kissed it. His voice rasped with the sound of a man that had smoked Alderaanian Tobac through a wooden pipe for many years. The rasp became a rich subtone that defined the older man in many of his public service announcements that he had made back under Emperor Rusic. “I was wondering when you would speak to a Moff that mattered.” He chided his host with good humour. “And no you must speak to the host first, it isn’t rude little one. Don’t ever sell yourself short. Now that you have gotten the niceties out of the way can you and your man tell us what you intend to sell us?” He was a man of little patience after all.

 

At the balcony, Beth Andromina looked up at Haphaestus with a look between awe and disgust. “So you design droids out on the Nubian frontier eh?” She had seen some of the early prototypes out of imperial labs of droid flown TIEs and her experience with them had left her with little praise. “War droids or the flying type?” She extended her black gloved hand and tossed her bangs with a flick of her neck. “Sorry for the rudeness Vulkas, I’m Second Lieutenant Andromina commander of the 189th starfighter command. I’ve flown against some of the Cybot Galactica Automated TIEs in sims, I assume you have something like that to compliment the imperial fleet in your designs?”

[Lord MacLeod]

“Welcome Grand Admiral Macleod. How fared your mission to the outer rim in pursuit of the Arach'tar?”

 

Luke inclined his head in response to her greeting and turned slightly to face her.

 

“Ma’am. We decimated the remainder of the Arach’tar at the cost of my other two ships and their valorous crews. We burned their homeworld to cinders as their disabled flagship hung in orbit unable to go to the aid of their world. When their world had ceased to burn, we used our tractor beam to push their flagship into a decaying orbit around the white star that is their sun. We watched for hours as their orbit brought them ever closer to the corona of the sun.”

 

He paused for a moment, his hand tightening around the pommel of the sabre. “In their final moments they sent a comm surrendering to us and asking for mercy. Our response was to broadcast the Imperial anthem followed by Emperor Palpatines’s speech to the Senate after being attacked by the Jedi and as the roar of the Senate echoed over the comm, we watched their ship break up and fall into the sun.

 

We were on the way home when we discovered that they had managed to contact their allies and they ambushed us with several Corellian light cruisers. Two of them made suicide runs on us using their two counterparts as shields for their attack runs. We killed three out the four cruisers but the fourth cruiser collided with us and caused the damage that you saw.”

[Kitaara Shiri]

"Oh, my relationship with Vulkas is entirely professional, I assure you," she said with a laugh and a dismissive wave of her free hand. A conspiratorial glint came into her eye and she leaned slightly closer to the two men, her voice dropping to a low, throaty timbre that invited speculation. "He's a brilliant engineer, but leaves something to be desired as far as company is concerned."

 

All business once more, Kitaara stretched out a glittering, gem-covered hand, and the Enyo-class 130 on her right stepped forward. "Please allow me to present the Enyo one-thirty, the latest in our line of security droids. They appear innocuous, like any household protocol droid, and can serve the same basic function. However, in the moment a threat is detected"--she snapped her fingers, and the droid's various flaps and doors slid open, revealing an impressive array of weaponry--"they become efficient and tactical defenders, with advanced programming for exact targeting and minimizing collateral damage."

 

The flaps slid closed once more and Kitaara received a datapad from the droid that displayed another one of Lemnos' creations and extended it toward Hastangel.

 

"They're geared primarily for protection, not warfare, however. We have another, our Phobos line, that we have designed to be the perfect addition to the war efforts against Black Sun and the Sith. We did bring a few sample models along, but I thought it would be inappropriate to bring war droids to a party, so you gentlemen would have to return with me to my ship to see them." she said suggestively.

 

Seeing her opportunity, she feigned girlish curiosity, letting an edge of fear slip into her tone. "Some people are saying that the attacking fleet over Carida was the Galactic Alliance, in some form of retaliation for the Remnant's decision to withdraw, but you said it was Sith mercenaries, is that true?"