An Overdue Call

[James Prent]

Byl had told her again and again not to make calls. Been sighted by the Inquisitorate. They'll be looking for us. Don't use the comm. And she hadn't used the comm.

After a week went by and nothing had happened; no stormtroopers had knocked down the door of the dank hotel they were staying in, he'd begun to relax a bit. And then the two women had shown up, looking for James. They were Rebels, not Imperials.

They'd asked questions about Byl, had she seen him, no o' course not. Byl was on edge again of course. And James had to make a call.

She slipped into the public comm outside of a grocery store near the hotel, and dialed up Barton Henning's commlink number. Hopefully he hadn't changed it since they'd last spoken - just before he'd taken off from Cloud City on his ship, the Knightfall.

She should have told the Alliance agents when they'd been there, but she'd been scared and didn't want to make things worse in case the women hadn't been Rebels and instead had been undercover Imps.

The transmission went fuzzy, and then connected.

[Barton Henning]

Barton was hunched over the main communication desk of the Knightfall, trying to work through a glitch in the system. Lyanie, the ships mechanic, had offered to fix the problem but the Captain had decided he needed something occupy his mind and it couldn't be a bad thing to develop a better understanding of the freighter's insides.

He wriggled a connector into place, and what had moments ago been muffled static suddenly became clear. Glancing up sharply from beneath the control panel, Barton was pleasantly surprised to see that the light which signified an incoming communication was blinking. He punched a button to accept the call.

“Knightfall.”

[James Prent]

She felt instantly paranoid, like a thousand eyes were staring at her through the semi-translucent plastoid walls of the public comm booth. But this was Copperline, and the only thing people watched were their animals, their crops, and the skies.

"Barton? Its James. Prent. Ah, remember me?"

[Barton Henning]

“James?”

The top of Henning's head cracked against the ships dashboard. He sucked in a breath and fought the urge to curse as he pulled himself up into the pilot's chair and poised over the comm's receiver. James Prent was coming through loud and clear enough that Barton was almost sure he could hear some ill-ease in her voice.

“Of course. Long time.. no speak. How's the galaxy treating you?”

[James Prent]

"Ah, well, can't complain. Well, I can.. but what... I mean t' say..." James halted, took a deep breath and continued almost desperately, "When our mutual 'friends' left Bespin... it was kinda inna rush. An' I helped Serena sell her ship, y'know, that cause all th' trouble? An' the Imps got her. I jus' barely got away. I can't talk much longer, 'cause I'm not sure I'm not bein' followed still.

"I know it was like a month ago, but I jus' haven't had a chance t' talk to anyone 'til now, an' yours is the only number I know, connected t' our... 'friends.'" James looked around, over her shoulder, and willed herself to breathe. Was that farmer looking at her, there across the street?

She heard a bit of static on the line again, and whispered, "Barton? Y' still there?"

[Barton Henning]

The Empire had blown an ill-wind through all of Cloud City. The military presence had forced a number of Jedi out of the safe houses that the city provided, but in doing so they had become unified aboard the Wheel. Yet, they had not all made it out together. Only a matter of days ago he had been talking with the old preacher Solomon, wondering what had become of Serena Laran – and musing on the mystical, coincidental nature of the Force...

Blinking, Barton shook himself out of that thought. “I'm here. Do you need anything? A ride somewhere? It would probably be helpful.. to talk in person.”

[James Prent]

She tried to think, but she couldn't make any sort of decision like that without talking to Byl. "I - maybe. I gotta go. I'll be in contact though. Thanks. I mean, I jus' wanted to know that someone else knew what happened t' her. She was really sweet t' me. You'll let the right people know, right?

"Bye, Barton." James disconnected the call and slid out of the booth, trying to walk as nonchalantly as she could back to the hotel room.

[Barton Henning]

“B-”

The tranmission light winked out and Barton stood for a moment staring at the control panel in from of him. In the silence, he began to process what he had just been told. Serena Laran had been taken by the Galactic Empire, over a month ago. His jaw tightened as he thought about what might have happened to her, in that time. He dropped tools onto the grating of the cock-pit floor and made for the Knightfall's boarding plank.

The others had to be told. Even if there was nothing to be done about it, they had to be told.

Without comm frequencies for all of the Jedi aboard the Wheell, Barton took a more direction approach. He had heard that there was a training class being held in one of the Whaladon's cargo bays. Long strides carried him through the ship's corridors to his destination.

[Abarai Loki]

"You."

The voice cut cleanly through the din, a relentless click-clack of thick wooden sparring swords, and the students immediately ceased all activity to turn first to their tutor and then to the young lady at whom he was pointing. She froze, her flushed face quickly drained of all colour.

"Drop that stick and come here."

In the pressing silence she approached, wincing apologetically at the sudden clatter of her sword, and kept her eyes fixed forward to avoid the stares of fellow classmates. Once she reached the front, Loki unclipped a training saber which hung at his right hip and tossed it to the padawan. The class gasped.

He took his own lightsaber to hand, watching the student rush through a barrage of mixed feelings before finally steeling her nerves and raising her gaze to meet him. No words, he raised his weapon in readiness and she answered. Blades of blue sprung forth and the duel began.

The clash of lightsabers drew the attention of another class from across the expansive room. It was a familiar exciting scene, student and teacher locked in combat, rolling through seamless sequences of slashes, parries, thrusts, dodges, and blocks, each engagement always introducing something new. The young apprentice, Taia, responded rapidly to Loki's advances, blades intercepting with a sizzle and crack, and pressed forward with her own confident attacks. Then suddenly she leapt, clearing the boy's humble height and twisted in the air for a decapitating blow. Weapons hissed in angry greeting and she fell to one knee, enough time for her opponent to land his foot squarely against her chest, forcing her to the floor. She moved to stand.

"It's finished," Loki declared simply, much to her bewilderment, "You are incapacitated."

Taia opened her mouth to object when the smell of burnt cloth arrested her attention. Thin trails of smoke snaked from her robes where four black holes exposed both her knees and shoulders. A growl of frustration was all she could manage.

"Stand, padawan," said the boy, returning his lightsaber to its rightful place, "You were blinded with confidence and aggression, and failing to read your opponent correctly, made a critical mistake. There are no rewards for recklessness, a Jedi must demonstrate patience and control, yet you possess neither."

Visibily, Taia deflated, shrinking under the weight of his judgement. Arms folded, he continued.

"What you do possess is skill. Determination and skill. You have a sound grasp of all basic moves, your posture is strong, your footing confident, and you're already developing a keen sense of style: Ataru, I believe. And it is on these merits alone I deem you worthy of intermediate training."

Her face, once a picture of stoic disappointment, now beamed with delight. The class errupted into cheer and applause but Loki ensured that display was made short with a single look. He returned his attention to Taia:

"The lesson begins in an hour, I suggest you use the time to wash and mend your clothes."

They bowed and Taia departed, Loki's eyes followed her long enough to notice the medic enter the room wearing a rather urgent look on his face, he ordered his class to continue and the clap of wooden swords resumed. He broke away and made a beeline for...

"Henning, isn't it?"

[Barton Henning]

It was difficult to forget a boy like Abarai Loki. In the aftermath of the Imperial assault upon the Wheel (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=20087), Loki had made certain his voice was heard as the Jedi debated their future.

“Yes. I've just had some news from a friend of the Alliance.”

He looked beyond Loki, to the young Jedi running through their training drills and wondered whether this was the right place to pass on James' message. As his gaze shifted back to the stoic Jedi Knight once more, Barton thought Loki couldn't have been a year or two older than he himself had been, when the Purge had brought an abrupt end to his training.

“It's about Serena.. one of the Jedi we lost on the way out of Cloud City.”

[Abarai Loki]

Reading his hesitance correctly, Loki called to a zabrack man engaged in a velocity excercise and beckoned him from his training. He gestured to his class behind them.

"Padawan Degall, I trust you remember your basic training. Oversee the lesson."

An obedient bow and the padawan departed, leaving both Barton and Loki at liberty to leave the cargo bay. Once clear of the door, Loki asked:

"She has made contact?"

[Barton Henning]

“Not exactly. I spoke to James Prent. She's a relative of one of the Rogue Squadron pilots.. though I first met her a while ago (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=16797) when the Alliance was using Cloud City as a safe-house.”

It seemed like such a long time ago. In the clinic he had operated, Barton had routinely treated sympathisers of both the Empire and the Rebellion, but it was the latter – contrary to the Baron Administrator's statements to the contrary – that had the largest presence on the floating city. Even today, Barton heard word of occasional reports coming in from Bespin.

“James said that she helped Serena sell her ship (http://www.sw-fans.net/forum/showthread.php?t=19495), the Serenity, since it was drawing some heat onto the Cloud City Jedi - but when the rest of us got out, the Imps managed to get ahold of Serena.”

[Abarai Loki]

It took an effort not to grumble about having another Prent inside the Rebellion. Instead, Loki chewed over Barton's tale for a moment. While he had been in no way affiliated with any of the Jedi prior to their arrival at the Wheel, the boy made a point of investigating their backgrounds as thoroughly as possible using both official records and word-of-mouth statements, and consequently, of the events on Bespin he was not ignorant. This Serena issue, however, was a new development.

"And is there any evidence to support the claims of this Prent woman?"

[Barton Henning]

“Only her word.”

For Barton, that was enough – but whether Loki could put his faith a woman he'd never met was another matter. He shook his head, thinking back on the times he had met Serena Laran. She was a vague, blurry figure in his mind when he thought back to the days of the Clone Wars. All he could picture was details: the red hair, the angular yet noble profile.

“Serena was a woman of.. vision, from what I know of her. She was there before the Republic fell, and I don't think she wanted anything more to see it rise again. I just.. can't see her having run off on her own, so to me at least.. this is the only explanation that makes a lick of sense.”

[Abarai Loki]

"We have made the Wheel exceptionally difficult to locate, even for another Jedi, despite ramblings of... fate."

He uttered the last word with distaste; the idea that he was not in control of his own future didn't sit well with Loki and it puzzled him why beings as able and wise as the Jedi often lent themselves to notions of predetermination. On the other hand, their numbers were growing and it seemed fortune, if there was such a thing, favoured their cause. And if Serena was indeed such an idealist...

"However, even if Serena Laran, a Jedi Knight, has indeed been captured then it is also highly possible your James Prent has fallen into the Empire's hands."

Glancing up at Barton inquisitively, he added: "Who else have you informed of this?"

[Barton Henning]

The boy was right. That so many of them had made it to the Wheel was nothing short of unbelievable. Henning wasn't a romantic, by any stretch, but he wanted to believe that both women had escaped persecution. At least, he hoped they had. Neither of them deserved to suffer or struggle any more than they already had done.

“Not a soul. I came right here from my ship, where the message come through.”

[Abarai Loki]

"Good."

After a moment of silence Loki turned suddenly on Barton, bringing them both to a halt. The space between them had shrunk considerably and he looked up, measuring the man before him.

"Captain Henning, it is imperative that you refrain from divulging this information to another person. I shall bring this matter before the Jedi and we will decide what to do with it. Is this understood?"

[Barton Henning]

Henning nodded. He was no stranger to keeping secrets.

“Yes. That's why I came here first. Do you need me.. to come along with you?”

[Abarai Loki]

"This is a Jedi affair."

The words rolled out immediatly and Loki had anticipated using them.

"Do you want to come along?"

[Barton Henning]

The boy didn't know what he was – what he'd been, rather. That didn't matter as much as getting James' message passed on.

“I could speak on James Prent's behalf, if needs be. Provide a little background to her part in all this, and the Cloud City affair.”

[Abarai Loki]

Not quite the response he was expecting, he nodded in agreement, "Your word will bring clarity to the proceedings."

They pressed on, Loki leading Barton back towards the hangar bay, he explained:

"There has been a meeting of high-ranking personnel aboard the Valiant today. Master Tarkin has been in attendance but is due to return imminently."

[Barton Henning]

Barton nodded to himself as they walked. If Navaria Tarkin was being brought into the proceedings, he knew that the matter was being taken seriously. No one outright said that she was the leader of the Jedi now, but their was a magnetism about her - something that she apparently shared with her sister.

“Let's be on the way then. The sooner this message gets passed on, the sooner we can see about lending Serena a helping hand.”

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Air rushing between clenched teeth in short breaths, Anbira seated the makeshift weights training bar into the clefts in the rudimentary bench. Whoever had set this bit of slapdash fitness equipment up had definitely done a good thing, the ex-Imperial thought. A thin sheen of sweat over his bare, hirsute chest, Anbira sat up from the bench, patting himself with a towel as he shook any perspiration from his wild hair.

At that point, he caught sight of Loki, and a man he wasn't familiar with.

"Good morning, Loki. Time for a duel before lunch?"

Inwardly he wasn't certain he'd gotten familiar enough with Djem So to hold his own, but he was always eager for an opportunity to put that question to the test.

[Abarai Loki]

OOC: Loki Ahmrah is here? :eek


"Anbira Hicchoru, is it not enough that we already have one Wookiee onboard?" he said, having taken a look at his recent sparring partner, and his semi-naked torso.

"Captain Henning and I have matters of importance with which to deal. Jedi matters. I would suggest you join us in the hangar bay if you care to get dressed."

[Lowrook]

Lowrook hesitated before he entered the cargo area. He had been around the Whaladon several times and at every corner people stared at him. He couldn’t blame them. If he hadn’t seen a huge hulking walking carpet, he would have stared too.

His main hesitation was that fact that while he needed to practice, he didn’t want to become a distraction to all the padawans in the cargo bay. Still, they would meet at some point and now was better than later.

He took a deep breath and entered the cargo bay. It was a vast area, considering the size of the ship. The sound of wooden swords striking each other filled the area. Again a pang of regret shot through Lowrook followed by a feeling of purpose. When he was trained as a youngling over 300 years ago, he had practiced in the <?xml:namespace prefix = st1 ns = "urn:schemas-microsoft-comhttp://75.126.43.122/forum/ /><st1:PlaceName w:st=Great</st1:PlaceName> <st1:PlaceType w:st="on">Temple</st1:PlaceType> on Coruscant and there were an abundance of lightsabers. Now they were in an old tramp freighter with wooden sticks. The fact that Lowrook carried two sabers meant that he probably carried a significant portion of sabers for the remaining jedi. He knew that at some point he would either need to give up one of the sabers, Jentz’, to someone who can use it. He had almost offered it but the fact that it was the last thing that reminded him of his fallen Padawan made him want to keep it. The styling was typical of a lightsaber, a straight two handed hilt, but what made it distinct was the Jentz had acquired a perfectly clear Durindfire gem from the planet Tatooine. It gave his blade a white blade with a frosty silver illumination. It was unique, who was just like Jentz.

As Lowrook passed through the door, he stood up to full height and looked around, hoping to find a place to practice in private. No such luck.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira stroked at his beard with some bit of amusement in Loki's barb about his preponderance of body hair. That the very same other Wookiee had entered at about the same time made the joke rather funny.

"Master Lowrook, it seems I've been inducted as an honorary member of your race. I would, of course, appreciate any suggestions or tips to make the transition."

Standing from the bench, he worked the towel the rest of the way, finally setting it aside in favor of his PT shirt. The gear-sign insignia of the Galactic Empire had nearly faded into nothing on the front, a testament to the garment's many years of refusing to disintegrate into threads and fluff. Returning his attention to Loki and his associate, the Felucian hermit nodded.

"I suppose that as a Jedi, I'm obligated to justify the free room and board then. However I can be of service."

He tied his hair back into a rough ponytail, and tagged along with the rest.

[Lowrook]

"Master Lowrook, it seems I've been inducted as an honorary member of your race. I would, of course, appreciate any suggestions or tips to make the transition."

Lowrook thought for just a second, then he spoke with all the calm and power of a Jedi Master.

"Don't wipe with the Poison Mutala Branches... Don't offer to brush another Wookie's mate... and always honor your Life Debts."

Lowrook started to leave the group but then stopped. "I haven't been able to train with a person for a long time. Any of you up for a lightsaber training exercise?"

[Navaria Tarkin]

Ten Standard Minutes Later ...

A Mon-Cal light shuttle carrying the newly appointed Jedi Council touched down on the Whaladon's hangar bay. The hydraulics hissed as the shuttle powered down its engines. From the front of the craft, the landing ramp lowered and four figures shadowed by the bulkhead waiting patiently to exit. Once it had touched down securely, two figures led the way - a petite brunette and the Trianii that towered over her - though not as massive as once upon a time. Still, Navaria Tarkin had to incline her head upwards to meet the eyes of the one who nurtured her as a daughter and Padawan. Without the wisdom and love of Drin Kizael, she would never have survived their forced separation all those years ago.

Currently putting aside matters of the Force, they were pleasantly continuing their conversation that had began on the way over from the Valiant - catching up on the years apart that neither had time for since Drin escaped Star's End. Following closely behind was Daria Nytherciria and Rev Solomon.

As former Master and student continued to talk, Navaria's steps became perceptibly slower and her attention was focused elsewhere but not towards anything in particular. Returning her gaze upwards, the Jedi's voice was riddled with concern. "Something's wrong, Drin.'

[Daria Nytherciria]

Daria turned back towards Navaria, her eyes narrowing ever so slightly. The tone with which Navaria had spoken was one that even she - who saw the Jedi Master when she could relax and did not have to present herself as the beacon of hope for the Jedi Order - did not hear often. She let her gaze wander the hangar bay, sensing questing outwards in search of the disturbance that had stopped the Jedi Master in her tracks.

“I... can feel no danger.”

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon, dressed as he often was in his wide-brimmed hat and long, nerfskin coat looked more like a frontier mendicant than a Jedi mystic, even with his lightsaber swinging at his hip.

"I sense it, too," he said, meeting Navaria's eyes. "Not danger, but... disquiet." His eyes hardened with certainty. "Something's happened."

[Drin Kizael]

Kizael turned around, looking out the force field to the stars beyond. Empty, save for the nebula that was coming into view of the Wheel's orbit. While the others confirmed that there was indeed no danger, the Jedi Guardian continued to focus outside the ship for a sense of, well anything.

"Agreed," Kizael mused.

Of all the things he taught Navaria, that depth of sensitivity was not one of them. The trianii's awareness was razor sharp when it came to interrogation or imminent danger. The subtle rhythms that constituted a vague sense of "something wrong" was not something he picked up on by instinct.

Unless he was looking for it, which now he was. He turned back to look at the hangar doors, mentally counting down the arrival of their greeting party.

"Though something certainly has set a mind or two on edge."

[Inyos Aamoran]

Inyos barely even noticed the shuttle landing, having been tangled within the bowels of the Veridian Knight, attending to what the diagnostic droid had identified as a minor fluxuation in the interlink modulator sub-assembly of the auxiliary navigational array, and had thus dismissed as an issue too trivial to warrant the attention of the technicians aboard the Whaledon with any kind of urgency.

He had half a mind to run a quick errand across to the Valiant, and see if he couldn't talk one of the ground techs over there into taking a look. Most of what they were patching up at the moment - thankfully - was wear and tear rather than battle damage, and while they no doubt complained and moaned about it at the time, he knew that deep down they were bored out of their skulls without something interesting to tax their abilties. An obscure power glitch might be just the mystery that was needed to get their mechanical juices going.

He felt something however, out of the corner of his mind - an unsettled air that crept into his consciousness like an unexpected breeze. It was almost like hearing distant voices, and while Inyos was used to the comings and goings of people - even Jedi - brushing against his mind, they were usually a cacophany of differing thoughts and emotions; it was like trying to discern the individual voices in a muttering crowd. Now though, many of the minds he percieved seemed to be speaking the same, and while he couldn't distinguish any specific words, he caught the gist that something was decidedly off.

Extracting himself from behind the forward console, his curiosity got the better of him, and he left his coat draped aross the pilot's seat; he didn't realise until he was already at the foot of the ramp, and couldn't bring himself to double back and retrieve it. Feeling decidedly under dressed - particularly in the chill of the hangar bay - he ensured that his rolled-up sleeves were at least vaguely neat, and checked his throat for the presence of his tie.

A flash of memory sparked in his mind; one of the younger Jedi who had found themself with the Wheel had asked: Why do you always wear a tie, Mister Jedi?

Amused by the question, Inyos had revealed that: A discerning Jedi does not go anywhere without his tie, young one.

But the other Jedi don't wear ties, the child had asked, clearly confused.

Inyos had offered a brief hint of a smile. Exactly.

As he drew closer, his eyes swept the crowd, picking out the Jedi faces he recognised. The Council was there, of course; a brief moment of eye contact and non-verbal aknowledgement passed between him and young Abarai Loki. There was the Wookiee too, and others; a veritable assembly of many of the Jedi aboard. That fact stirred and unsettled his gut, and he found a singular thought forming in his mind.

I have a bad feeling about this.

[Abarai Loki]

There was now quite a number of people in the hangar. What he had intended to be a discreet conversation between himself, Barton and Navaria Tarkin had turned into an impromptu gathering. He cast his gaze briefly about the room; they were all Jedi. The council disembarked the shuttle before him and he bowed in greeting.

"Master Tarkin, we have news of Serena Laran," he stated simply, and glanced at Barton.

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"I know that name. I stayed with her during the Bespin underground. Before the Inquisitorate attack."

He listened eagerly. She was alive then? They'd all left so fast, he had no way to know who made it and who did not.

[Barton Henning]

All attention was on Henning for the first time, in a long time. In his mind at that moment, each of the Jedi were larger than life, as if he had accidentally stumbled his way into some elaborate costumed drama and found himself in the role of hapless messenger.

“I've just had word.. from an associate of the Alliance.. that Serena Laran has been taken into Imperial custody.”

[Rev Solomon]

Solomon felt the force of Barton's words like a cannon shot through his gut, a sinking weight that left him empty inside. Serena, one of the few remaining Jedi he'd known before the Purge, one he'd been anxious to meet again ever since he'd heard the others had met her on Bespin, was now in the clutches of the same villains who had made it their quest to eradicate the Jedi from the face of the galaxy.

His face was drawn, but his voice remained calm as he asked, "When? When was she taken?"

[Barton Henning]

When he met Solomon's gaze, Barton felt the other man's sadness almost as if it were his own. However level the preacher kept his voice, it was in his voice. The sound of having lost someone close, perhaps one of the few someones who understood what it was to be you. Henning knew it well; he had experienced that same feeling the day of Operation: Knightfall.

“A while back now. When we all hauled out of Bespin. It was... confusing. We got split up from one another, and I guess before she could get out, the Imps got to her.”

[Anbira Hicchoru]

Anbira spoke out with his instinct miles ahead of propriety or decorum.

"We should go get her."

Realizing his faux pas, he glanced at more silent listeners, apologizing for his interruption.

"Sorry."

[Corell Capstan]

“Obviously.”

A few eyes shifted over to Corell Capstan, who stood with arms folded over her chest. Like the others she had been drawn to the hangar and had finally decided to speak up. At least one of the otthers gave the Corellian a look that she interpreted as disapproving. Her eyebrows shot up and she shrugged, hard.

“What? He's right,” she nodded at Anbira.

[Navaria Tarkin]

"I agree," Navaria said, speaking up, "But we cannot do it brazenly."

The last words were directed at Corell specifically. If she could learn to control her feelings, the energy about her would amount to a great deal of understanding of the Force, which would be far more productive in her tutelage.

"We cannot live in fear of the Empire any longer. A message must be sent that we have returned and that we are organized." She looked amongst the Jedi here individually. "But we must plan things accordingly and not waste too much time. Our window of opportunity is closing, I feel."

[Drin Kizael]

Kizael turned his unreadable gaze from Corell to focus on Barton. After giving Navaria's words a moment to register with the group, he asked, "Did your associate provide any leads? Namely where she is being held?"

[Barton Henning]

“She wasn't on the line for long.”

Barton stopped himself, realising he was making excuses for James when none needed to be made.

“No. She didn't say where they took Serena - or what for.”

[Abarai Loki]

"Then we must first ascertain the facts," said Loki, folding his arms, "I suggest a preliminary reconnaissance mission to confirm these claims and, should they prove true, return with a detailed report of the situation. We could start with Bespin."

[Corell Capstan]

Corell raised a hand, not exactly making a grand effort to conceal her eagerness to be part of the team that left the Wheel. “I don't know Bespin all that well, but I'm not a familiar face. Imps shouldn't be able to link me back to the Jedi or the Rebellion.”

[Anbira Hicchoru]

"You'll want somebody there who understands Imperial garrisons."

More confident now, Anbira spoke out on this.

"I was a stormtrooper for four years, and I've been in the Bespin underground. Masters permitting, I'd like permission to go."

[Lowrook]

Lowrook shook his shaggy head. As much as he wanted to go on the recon, he knew that he would be jeopardizing the mission. A wookie unless on a slave labor gang was sure to draw unwarranted attention to the group. Even if they did not expect them to be Jedi, they would be looking upon that group with suspicion.

"I am saddened, but I do not think that I should go on the recon portion of the mission. In fact, if we are heading into an Imperial Stronghold, I would say that only humans go on the recon mission. Any alien species is bound to draw attention to the group."

[Drin Kizael]

Kizael was relieved when Anbira spoke up. Although he still wasn't completely sure what to make of the ex-Stormtrooper, Daria's word was enough for him. He agreed that the best candidates to investigate the former Jedi hideout were unknown quantities, he was less than enthusiastic to send two of their most inexperienced on a mission just because they volunteered.

The Jedi Guardian nodded to Anbira. "Very well. Simply research and report back. We cannot afford to overextend ourselves on this. We all want Serena back, but we do her no good if we run blindly after everything that merely sounds like a lead."

[Navaria Tarkin]

There wasn't much else to say or do. They had to leave now. Time was slipping away from them. It was the time for action as Serena's life depended on it.

"May the Force be with you in your travels and bring you back safely to us."