Sick Cycle carousel

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Sick Cycle carousel - Lifehouse


<font color=red>if shame had a face I think it would kind of look like mine
if it had a home would it be my eyes
would you believe me if I said I'm tired of this
well here we go now one more time

I tried to climb your steps
I tried to chase you down
I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground and
I tried to earn my way
I tried to change this mind
you better believe that I have tried to beat this

so where will this end it goes on and on
over and over and over again
keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
till I step down from this for good

I never thought I'd end up here
never thought I'd be standing where I am
I guess I kind of thought that it would be easier than this
I guess I was wrong now one more time

I tried to climb your steps
I tried to chase you down
I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground and
I tried to earn my way
I tried to change this mind
you better believe that I have tried to beat this

so where will this end it goes on and on
over and over and over again
keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
till I step down from this

sick cycle carousel
this is a sick cycle, yeah
sick cycle carousel
this is a sick cycle, yeah

so where will this end it goes on and on
over and over and over again
keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
till I step down from this for good

where will this end it goes on and on
over and over and over again
keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
till I step down from this for good

sick cycle carousel...</font>



In the circle that has often been ascribed to Life, we tread in it, never changing, always holding to our course due to fear of change. To come out of our comfort zones. It’s like a habit, we do the same things, we do the same things we detest in ourselves time and time again because we don’t take the strength to change course. We look ourselves in the mirror and hate what we see, but we still never change. We always want to be whom we want to be, even if we don’t like it, not whom we need to be. But sometimes, the circle kinks…. Suddenly our comfort zones are kicked aside. And we have to rise up and be something we never thought we could be.



--



The starlight burst through the viewport, creating shadows and bright point in the room, a fairly bare 10 by 10, standard New Republic war ship in construction and decoration. The light shone in on a bed, shone on a collection of bottles that occasionally clinked as the ship moved, shone a bare kitchen, shone on a bed. The blanket on that bed was black and non-descript, the pillow was a bare white. The head on the pillow was covered in neat short black hair. A arm dangled from under the blanket. Snores could be heard coming from the depths of the blanket. There was a black cat curled up on the end of the bed, also asleep. Nothing else.

Time went past with no further movement.

Conscious came creeping back like a think gooey sludge being poured, came back slowly and it seemed it came from a long distance. The arm moved to a place next to the head and a soft moan was expelled.

Another few minutes with only vague stirrings.

The cat yawned and stretched as a muffled fart sounded out and the blanket stirred. A low groan could be heard, then a moment later by another fart. There was some more movement, slow at first as the person under the blanket began to stir and slowly wake up. Eyes opened and blinked with the starlight of some sun streamed into the irises, pupils dilated, the eyelids were scrunched together as the pain receptors came active. Another groan.

The cat got up and stretched again, aching it’s back as it stretched what seemed like every bone and every muscle of it’s body. It yawned again, began to work muscles and sinews before stepping off the bed lightly. The person didn’t move for a few more minutes, then the arm was drawn up and with seeming huge effort, what appeared to be a male human slowly curled himself up and then drew himself into a seating position. The blanket fell off his well muscled body, revealing a fairly fit man, naked. His body, as well as being muscular also evidenced the scars of either accidents or of fights the man may have had. A truly spectacular scar was etched into his back, some others crisscrossed his arms and there was the remains of what looked like a spearing through his right shoulder. The face was unmarked, even boyish and quite handsome. The hands were longish and fingers thin, not the hands of a fighting man at all, but more of an artist like a musician. The legs dropped to the floor, the feet more of a dancer. Long legs draped themselves over the bed as the man came upright, cupping his hands in his hands. Pain washed through his head and he just willed it to be gone, not with any particular success however. Eventually the throbbing in his temples drifted away enough for him to raise his head without feeling sick and his eyes were able to open enough to view the room.

Quite suddenly his stomach heaved. Oh no… he bent over and with a great deal of violence and noise threw up. The vomit splattered the steel floor, startling the cat and covering a couple of bottles. The waves of illness hit him four more times until his stomach had no more to expel. He raised his bloodshot eyes to look at the room and his mind finally came groggily awake, scanning the area, seeing the empty bottles and noting that the room was actually in fact reasonably dark and the huge blasts of noise was in fact the blood rushing in his head.

Major General James T. Tohmahawk, the Commander of the New Republic Special Forces and envoy to the Greater Jedi Order felt like @#%$ and he would take a bet he looked like it too. His eyes surveyed the room and this time counted the bottles as the cat wandered over and began to lap up some of the vomit. With some effort he made the mental effort to total up the numbers and was even quietly impressed with the result, even if it explained why he was feeling so terrible. What a bender he must have had. The beer bottles were quite numerous and by the labels, it wasn’t the low effect @#%$ they served on most planets. This was real hard stuff, the type of drink that was used for paint stripper. Or acid etching. Maybe even hand to hand combat and certainly not for human consumption.

That was all right then. Despite his appearance, he wasn’t human… well maybe somewhere along the line the race of the OcckaAustralias and humans had been the same in the past, as his race could certainly crossbreed successfully with humans. But no human had his natural, unreal strength, given by the fact the gravity of TerraAustralias was over twice normal, nor the tolerance for the sheer heat of the deserts he grew up in. Nor did normal humans live as long. Tohmahawk was 108 years standard, had seem thing that he wished he hadn’t. TerraAustralias was in the Unknown Regions, hence it was spared the worst of the Empire. But Tohmahawk had been living on Coruscant and had gone through it all. Seen the Fall, seen the NR rise. Been part of it. Still, if he reached the average life of an OcckaAustralias, he would see another 250 years. What could happen in that many years was mind-boggling and he tried not to dwell on it for long, especially as the things he had done and seen were the stuff that history was made of. He groaned again. Given his heritage, alcohol didn’t quite have the same effect on him that it did on humans, but there were still the side effects if he drank enough. 47 bottles, yes that was more than enough.

Glancing up, Tohmahawk’s bleary eyes sought the chrono out that sat on the kitchen bench, saw the date and time, mentally working how long he had been out for. The answer was not pleasant – 3 whole days. 3 days in a Fosters induced coma. No wonder he felt terrible. He kept seated until he was certain that his legs could bear the weight of his body, stood very slowly up and tottered over to one of the doors leading out of the room. Luckily, it was the one he wanted and he closed the door for privacy. The cat licked it’s paws as more retching sounds echoed out.

Eventually, still naked, he came out feeling somewhat better to get a shower. Unlike normal, he ran the water as hot as he could stand it, and stood there for a long time, allowing the spray to massage the aches and also for the steam to help clear his mind. It seemed to work, for when he came out with hair still wet and a towel around his hips a good hour later, he was feeling a lot better. The floor was clean of bottles and the residue vomit had been cleaned, obviously by one of the cleaning droids assigned to him. The cat was purring, looking well fed, also having being given food at the same time most likely – well, he hoped so. He had a vague memory of the cat licking the vomit, so Tohmahawk decided he wouldn’t allow the animal to nuzzle or lick him for a few days.

Food was next. He was starting to feel hungry, but most food wasn’t really appealing right now, so he selected a few pieces of fruit from the food unit, plus set the unit into making a good cup if tea. He didn’t know why, most times the unit produced something close to, but not quite related to pig slop. Maybe it was wishful thinking. He sat down on one of the chairs when the tea was ready and was pleasantly surprised to find it was half decent. Which half was decent he couldn’t quite decide, but it was a good step in the right direction and that was a good thing. It meant the processing unit would go through another day without a lead induced memory bank reprogramming. He carried the cup over to another one of the doors, opening it to reveal his wardrobe. Uniforms neatly lined up. Some casual clothes and boots. The cat circled his feet, rubbing it’s face on Tohmahawk’s bare shins. He gently pushed the cat out of the way, before taking down the civilian clothing. He paused, took a sip of the still hot liquid, then also withdrew the trenchcoat as well. A bit of a smile played over his face, considering what he was going to wear. One of the privileges of rank was you could do what you wanted at times and he quite frankly didn’t like the current NR uniform. There was a specific NRSF design coming, but it wasn’t here yet. Thence he would wear something he liked. Besides, the crew of this ship recognised these clothes he wore now, it was like wearing the full dress uniform. It set him apart.

Five minutes later, he was dressed and finishing off the tea. He placed the cup down, the cat casually moving to it and investigating for any dregs, while Tohmahawk reached back into the wardrobe, to the locker behind the clothes. Only two beings had the key for this locker, him and the droid servant. In it were his most prized possessions and he hated the thought of anyone else touching them. On one side was the two items that truly set him apart, things he almost hated the sight of. It reminded him of times he wished never happened but he knew how wrong it would be to throw the devices away. He used the devices… but never as Tohmahawk. Never. To the other side were the things he was looking for, two large holsters clipped to a belt. He drew the belt out, placing it around his hips and snapping the buckle closed. Riding in their customary place were the beautifully built Rail Guns, devices of lethal effectiveness and in this day of Blasters, remarkably anarchic. Projectile weapons had almost died out given the cost of a blaster was a factor of 20 less than these things. Yet, with a 20 shot magazine and a muzzle velocity approaching hypersonic and a kick like a Gungan, the guns packed a hit that could smash personal armour, break shields, shoot a Jedi dead before he / she moved or blow a hole in hull armour. Fully burnished metal, the Railies were brutal, beautiful and deadly. So good was the design, the newly formed Warrior sect Jedi were adopting them as the standard side arm. Personally Tohmahawk loved the idea of Force users dying in a hail of bullets, liked it immensely. He had met very few Force users he could trust, interestingly the main one being his good friend Jyanis Scorpion. Good man, had a good head on his shoulders too. Hopefully learning to be a Jedi wouldn’t spoilt the superb military mind Jyanis had, as well as the ability for a quick retort, two thing Tohmahawk respected. He was known himself to be sarcastic and caustic and had been known to even dare yell down the Chief of State on occasions. No one on board tried to match him barb for barb, that was a course of stupidity. Tohmahawk tho was known as a good commander and more to the point, a brilliant fighter. He himself had ended the lives of 5 Sith and 3 Jedi who had gone rogue, a feat that even trained Jedi found hard to do. It wasn’t skill in the Force, because Tohmahawk exhibited none, nor was it the weaponry, tho that helped. It was mainly Tohmahawk just plain out thinking his opponents and doing something they would never expect. In the case of the Sith, that was sometimes just standing up to then and going toe to toe. Like, what Sith would expect someone like him to stand his ground and fight back against a trained Force user? You could get great mileage from doing what an opponent never expected, even if it was plainly stupid.

But there was something Tohmahawk had that few Jedi or Sith ever had. Superb military training, year upon year of martial arts experience, natural speed and strength, eyesight and reaction time that would make a cat look blind and slow. He looked himself in the mirror however and his eyes told him the real reason why he could defeat even the best. The eyes never lied, being the windows into the mind beyond. Tohmahawk could read what was behind a person’s eyes and he hid nothing from himself, no matter how much he denied things to others and lead even his best friends astray at times. His eyes held back secrets and one of those secrets…. Well if they only knew, because it would explain a lot. Sometimes he wanted to say something, but then it would start all over again and he didn’t want that.

But it had to a degree. If what Force Master Hunter had seen was correct, it was starting all over again. It had been the cause of this mind blowing bender three days ago. He had deliberately drunk himself under because of the news. Not much could drive him to drink, in fact he had been intoxicated precisely 4 times in his long life and had in fact had only touched the hard stuff 6 days in total. He knew others that when faced with the twists life threw at you had become married to a bottle. Not Tohmahawk. Just these very rare splurges and he was righted. He could deal with it. Answers came in the end. He glanced at a place on the mirror and knew what was behind it, what he hid there… and knew he was thinking crap. You don’t deal, you just try to forget and bury the pain. Quite well too, just with the outbursts of memories that he could keep tucked away for long periods of time unless something dredged them to the surface. Like the news he had got. Force Master Hunter had delivered it and he still couldn’t believe it. Darth Turbogeek could NOT be alive. Tohmahawk had seen the body himself. It was not much more that a burnt husk, but he had known whose remains they were. Without doubt.

So what the hell was a dead Jedi doing not only alive, but if the sketchy reports could be believed, even associated with a group of Dark Jedi? That was straight out hypothesis, but Turbogeek had been sighted in the company of a TBH Dark Jedi. Even more bizarrely, Hunter reported that after Tohmahawk had dumped that Ravenwing woman on Coruscant, she had somehow also linked up with the suspected resurrected Jedi and had in fact left the planet together with the suspected Dark Jedi Jeseth Cloak. Tohmahawk would love to know how Turbogeek had possibly come back from the dead, so he could make sure that damn idiot STAYED dead. The general had a long history of a strained working relationship with that idealistic fuckup and had not shed any tears when word had gotten through he was dead. But typical of Jedi, he couldn’t even die properly. Force Master Hunter conjectured it was some sort of Force trick but as yet Tohmahawk had no real idea himself. He would just have to meet this Turbogeek one day and then find out for sure…. Before gutting the bugger.

He shook his head. That might be a good thought, but it was for the future. Now, he had other things to attend to and for one thing, it was seeing if his new flagship, the NRSF Super heavy cruiser Defender was coming back online. The finality of a project to counter the newer super sized craft the Galactic Empire as well as The Sith Order had produced. Defender was built to resist a super laser as well as have massive fighting capabilities, as well as being able to defend planets by itself. Any fool who wasted a super laser shot on it would be rapidly ripped to pieces while their reactors were trying to recharge. Primarily built as it’s name suggested, it was the underpin for the new NRSF fleet and had enough firepower to lay low entire fleets. Crafted with planetary sized shields, nearly 1500 turbolasers and a similar number of Ion Cannon, plus 6 KDY-150 Planet Defender cannon, missile ports by the hundreds, and capacity for 72 wings of star fighters, it was a great ship…. If they could ever work the problems out of it. Designated MC-200NR1, it had it’s maiden cruise 4 weeks ago and problems from that flight were still being identified and resolved. Tohmahawk had come back on board 4 days ago, run some reports, digested the results, given some orders, then locked himself in one of his cabins and just gotten intoxicated.

Well, now he was looking somewhat better and more to the point, feeling better, he decided it was time to return to the bridge and find out what had gone on what he had been under.



OOC : Open to all - BUT if you want to join in on the main storyline, please speak to Darth Turbogeek first. Read the song lyrics first to understand what it’s all about.

[Nathan W3st]

"This thing, is... its obscene." West stated as he strode up to the General, taking advantage of legs that a 6' 5" frame offered. He was wearing a long sleeved brown shirt with dark grey blotches about it, dark grey pants, and a wide brimmed hat with a pattern that matched the shirt. A rather unusual and wicked looking rifle hung across his back, and a smaller version of the General's sidearms adorned his belt.

Tohmahawk nodded.

"I like it. Whats with the unusual dress, Commander?"

"Stormtrooper officer huntin', in the dark. And Sir, don't drink so damn much. You missed the fun." he said, sniffing. The stuff must have been truly rancid and toxic. Sometimes he wondered how his commanding officer was alive. Or any NRSF trooper, for that matter.

"Confirmed kills?"

"Four."

"Thats lousy, West. I expect better."

"Four officers, Sir. Fifteen troops. Thermal Dets are fun." Tohmahawk cracked a grin. That was more like it.

They strode down the corridor in silence for a bit.

"How is Intel doing with the Turbogeek project?" Tohmahawk inquired.

"Pissed that they have to do it. Its harder than anyone thought it would be. They say somone has been doing a helluva cleanup job in the files department. They do have a couple of leads as to who is doing the scrubbing, but the most likely is a death trap in pursuing, or so they say."

The General grunted something unintelligable about Intel slacking.

"Remember the string of repulsor tech company brake ins?" Quick nod of acknowlegement.

"They think its the same guy."

"Why isn't he dead yet?" Tohmahawk grumbled again, radiating dissapointment.

"One: Resources and personel. Two: He should be in our top hundred. Three: better things to do, which I agree on. So whats on the plate, or is that why we are heading for the bridge?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Block. Right. Block. Left hook. Block. Spin kick... And with a thump and a cloud of dust the man was swept off his feet and spilled to the ground. Arya sighed, and wiped her forehead with a grimy hand. The corner she had found to practice in was overrun with dust, and the particles were sticking to everything. The air even smelled dusty. A groan from the floor caught her attention, and Arya reached down to help Turbogeek to his feet.

"Always watch your opponent, Turb." The man was slightly older than she was, and had a bruise on his cheek. He stood a few inches taller, and had a confused expression painted on his face.

"But you said that it was going to be another right. ...Hit, block, hit, block." He clenched up his fists, eyes widening in frustration. "You said!"

Arya grinned, and nodded. "Yes, I did, didn't I. But you still have to pay attention. When you fight someone else, they're not going to tell them what they're going to do next." She reached across the space between them and rubbed her thumb on his forehead. He moved back a little, wary, but Arya laughed. "You're covered in dirt. This dust sticks to our sweat, and its all over your face."

Turbogeek frowned, and she took his arm and pulled him towards the wall. There was a mirror there, which had been covered by a sheet when she had first come to Bast. They stood there and looked at their dirty reflections. There was a bit of blood dried by her mouth from a wild swing she hadn't been able to block. She'd retaliated by giving Turbogeek the bruise he sported on his cheek.

He was looking at her in the mirror. "Arya, you're hurt." He reached over and touched her lips with his finger. She jerked away, grabbing his hand and twisting it. Turbogeek winced and nearly fell, but she released his hand quickly.

"Reflex, sorry." Arya stepped away from the mirror, inexplicably awkward. The man followed her like a puppy, a wounded look on his face.

"I wasn't going to hurt you."

"I know." She scowled at him, "Old habits are hard to break. That's why I like teaching you to fight. You don't have any old habits."

He grinned at that, "Just new bruises."

Arya reciprocated the grin. "Pretty soon you won't be getting anymore. You're a quick study." He was learning so fast it was scary. She hit him lightly in the shoulder, and he blocked, knocking her fist away. "See? I think we're done for today, go wash up."

"Are you coming?" He queried her as he turned to go.

She shook her head. "I'll be along in a minute." She watched him go. He already walked like a fighter, becoming more self aware, and conscious of his surroundings. And has a nice butt. Arya grinned at that thought, and then turned back to the mirror.

Mirror, mirror, on the wall... Arya tried to straighten her chin length hair, but the front strands were stuck down with a mixture of sweat and dust. She pushed them back, out of her face, and then reached inside her blue tank top to pull out her medallion.

The crest of the Ravenwings glistened at her, dampened by her own sweat. Arya rubbed at it, and frowned a little. The medallion was her only link to her father...and the life she had been denied because of his death. She sniffed, and glared at the mirror, her dust smudged reflection glaring back.

Mirrors didn't lie. They simply reported what they saw, regardless of what you wanted them to say. The woman tried a smile, but it ended up hoplessly twisted and more like a frown. What was her life, anyway? Just a series of mishaps ending up in a colossal mess.

That's what this is, a frell-eating, krayt dragon sized nightmare. Bast was creepy, and the inhabitants were even more disturbing. Not to mention the planet, Vjun, was it? Arya shuddered. No plants. No animals. So different. But, a job was a job, and her life was...well...hers. Sort of. Right now it belonged more to Hunter, but she owed it to Turb, who had saved it.

Her life was the Job. Whichever job it happened to be at the moment. Arya kicked at the dust, noting the scuffed clean area of the floor where she and Turb had practiced. She walked slowly, starting back towards her bed and the 'fresher. At first smuggling had been exciting, and her partner had simply been her partner. Aaron had gotten her out of some trouble in a bar, and they had ended up together on his ship, evading the local law. She was already an excellent pilot, and he needed a co-pilot for his frieghter. They put two and two together, and got four. If only life had remained that simple.

Arya rounded a corner, and paused. This doesn't look familiar. She looked behind her, and then in front again. Frell. "Frell." Where was she? The corridors all looked the same after a while, and it was always dark inside. Frell, for that matter, it was always dark outside. The acidic rain didn't seem to quit. Arya turned around, closing her eyes and reaching out with her mind. Her mind's eye was confusing, showing her a map of passageways and rooms that she'd been in. For whatever reason, she couldn't find the hall that connected to the one she was in. "Krasst!" She really hadn't been paying attention to where she was going, and now she was lost. Perfect, just perfect.

She just hoped it wouldn't be Hob that found her. His riddles and rhymes made her head hurt sometimes, and he was always startling her by popping up in odd places. Although, he seemed relatively harmless compared to a few of the other characters that littered the castle. Arya walked forward, entering a room.

It was completely dark, but she let her mind's eye look around, and she found a chair to sit in. Arya sat, holding the medallion in her hand. Life is always the same. She was lost again. Not the first time, and probably not the last time, either. Not only lost physically, but emotionally as well. After Aaron had died... She bit her lip, wincing at the pain. After his death she'd lost her mind for a while. Months, maybe. She wasn't really sure, it was all just a blur in her memories. But after she'd recovered, it had been back to the Job.

She smuggled everything from foodstuffs to slaves, although the market for slaves was dwindling since the NR was cracking down. There were a few worlds on the Outer Rim that still had a market for them...but they were getting too far away to make a run profitable. Her life hadn't gotten better from the moment of her birth. Instead, it seemed to continually get worse and worse. Arya felt her bottom lip pouting out, and sucked it back in, blinking her eyes hard.

Her mother was dead. Aaron was dead. Her father had never been alive, as far as she was concerned. Her life was whirling around her, but instead of pulling her up to better things, it was pulling her down, like the swirl of water in a toilet. Now she was here, in Bast castle, surrounded by Dark Jedi who didn't trust her, but put up with her for Jeseth Cloak and Turbogeek. There had been some discussion about her clairvoyance, talk of training. Nothing had been done. She slapped her forehead. Gain their trust? That requires them having trust for me to gain.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

The two men walked the corridor until they arrived at the turbolift cluster.

“First things first. I want that slicer who is erasing the records on Darth Turbogeek’s existence stopped, I don’t like the idea of someone having free access to the New Republic’s databases. I also want our own techs to backup and restore to our own secure machines after that” He caught the look on West’s face, then nodded. “Good, already done” Tohmahawk dropped quiet for another moment, before continuing. “Much as I like the idea of hunting down this slicer and this reappeared ass of a Jedi, we have something bigger to deal with” The lift doors opened at that point, allowing both officers to board. An NCO was waved out of the lift, with some bad grace as Tohmahawk decided he didn’t really want to be overheard while he spoke. The pair waited until the doors closed and West activated a privacy screen, before the General spoke again.

“I had words with the Chief of State after I left Coruscant. We are getting a good deal more resources but we are also being ordered to do something about the Sith fleets and to initiate an attack against a target of our choosing. Which is pleasant that the Senate is growing a spine, but the Inner Council and that @#%$ Bothan obviously has been playing political games and forced the Chancellor to accept an immediate attack. We have no real choice other than to go hit something”

“What, without proper recon and prep time?”

“Damn right. We either go out and fight or the Senate will deny us any resources”

“WHAT? Why?”

Tohmahawk looked up at the ceiling of the lift. “Because the Council wants us under their control and not reporting to the Chief of State only. We’re a powerful holochesspiece in their control and whoever has ultimate command of the NRSF has virtual control of the NR”

“We’re not that big General. We are hardly big enough to defend one system”

“Not anymore. Before Defender was finished, we had a few missile cruisers and a few Nebulon – G’s. Now we have probably the ultimate war machine, if the damn thing ever works, plus we have General Scorpion’s fleet and his Argus Battlestation, as well as our own construction yard and supply lines. The good General is at present using the resources he bought over with him to make his fleet bigger, but more importantly, we have something no one else has”

“Besides a major pain in the ass in command?”

Tohmahawk laughed. “And he has a airlock and not afraid to kick smart asses out it. No, amongst all the armies and navies facing each other, we are the only one comprised entirely of volunteers. No a single one of us is forced into serving or fighting, while even the NR conscripts. The TSO and TSE manpower are nothing more than slaves and face execution of their families if they resist, while we have beings who are spoiling for a fight. Granted we are far smaller as a result… but which trooper would you rather have as a backup? A forced recruit or a bloody thirsty maniac?”

“Are you calling me blood thirsty? I’ll have you know the last time I tasted blood was ….. too long ago!”

Both men laughed. “Agreed General, we have a damn good fighting force, but you said we are too small. Why are we being used as pawns?”

“Because we are now in the position to increase 100 fold, that’s why. Remember the last execise we had, where we took out 15 to 1 and I chewed everyone out as not a good enough result? We’re the best fighting force. Soon we could be one of the biggest. Think what that’s doing to the balance of power and being effectively outside of the Senate’s power has a lot of people scared. So… we’re being pushed the only way the powers that be can do it. We get our resources only if we dance to their demands. Thence, Solo gave the order for immediate assault”

“That’s insane”

“I know. Except….” Tohmahawk paused

“Except…. You have something planned already, didn’t you General.”

Tohmahawk gave West an innocent look. “Who me? Just because there is a juicy target just begging to be hit and I have the resources to take that target, do you think I’ve already got most of the attack plan ready before I saw the Chief of State? I’ld love to see that look on that pathetic Bothan’s face when we succeed instead of fail like he thinks he’s setting up. Like to come along when I piss on his parade?”

“Can I do the pissing too?”

“Go right ahead… ahhh, Bridge at last. I want a staff meeting as soon as General Scorpion arrives”

“Will do sir”

[Cardinal Aiyalin]

A thousand candles lit the darkness of her room. Their glow cast dancing shadows in the corners, giving the macabre room an even eerier look. The mind's eye twisted in here, giving allusions that goblins and ogres truly were dancing along the walls, animated by the orange flames. A face appeared in the darkness, slowly emerging in the room's ghastly illumination. Her wealth of black hair glittered brightly as it hung on her shoulders, face creased in a dark smile. Her room had finally become her own again, after tossing aside her most recent play toy. Cardinal Aiyalin's chest rose and fell as she took deep breaths, filling her senses with the insense that burned in the dark shadows the candles created.

A black rose lay on her nightstand. The young woman grimaced as she touched a hand to the soft petals; he used to call her his dark rose. The former Sith was a fool to say the least. To fall in love with the Lordess of Lust was an effort in futility -- it was said she had no heart for love, and she reveled in that. The man was entertaining to say the least, but he did not take it well when she had sent him with his bags packing. Begging, pleading. Card's smile grew ever more vicious as she twirled around the room. The Jedi in her mind was still present, an acknowledgement that she had not found the ONE who would rid her of the unwelcome traveler. Once she had thought it would be Dyne -- her face scowling at the thought -- but obviously she had been wrong.

His mad, cackling laughter rebounded in her consciousness. Card clenched her hands together, brows scrunching into a grotest form, as she tried her hardeest to ignore the former Jedi Knight who now invaded her every thought and desire. Walking over to the mirror, she admired herself in it. It was enough to quiet the Jedi for a time, his mad rantings drifting off to a muted buzz.

Suddenly his voice ceased, and an angry growl resounded inside her skull.

"What the frell are you growling for, you a$$?"

Shhhh, you stupid girl ! Dost thou not hear the footsteps above? Echoing from the hells deep within Bast? Dost thee not reckognize the footfalls of everyone that resides here? These echos sound unfamiliar to my trained ears, as surely as they sound to yours.

Cocking her head, she reached out with the darkside, trying to amplify the dim sounds she heard. Indeed, they did were not familiar to her... an intricately disturbing thought. Grabbing her black, velvet cloak, Cardinal opened the door and melted into the shadows beyond.

.............................

She stood at the end of a long hallway. One that the unwelcome visitors would soon find themselves. Drawing her cloak tight around her, she pushed forward with her mind, towards the dark side. A struggle enveloped her as she fought for control with the anger and hate the dark entailed. Forming an image of herself, she projected it in front of the unfortunate ones at the far end of the hall.

"Who are you and what are you doing inside Bast Castle? Answer now, and answer quickly. Or suffer."

Her voice echoed off the walls -- seeming to come from the projection, yet seeming to come from all other directions as well. The projections face scowled darkly at the visitors, broking no nonsense.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Walking towards the hall where she had discovered herself lost, Arya was startled by a woman standing in her path. Backing up slightly, she opened her mouth to speak, but the woman was faster. "Who are you and what are you doing inside Bast Castle? Answer now, and answer quickly. Or suffer."

Suffer? That didn't sound good. Arya brushed some hair out of her eyes, "My name is Arya Ravenwing...I'm here as a guest of Jeseth Cloak and his, uh, his apprentice, Turbogeek." The woman didn't move, and as Arya squinted at it she could see through it in places. In fact, as she examined her with her mind's eye, she could see no one standing there at all. An apparation. With a little more effort she could see the dim outline of a woman standing at the end of the hallway, many yards away.

The robed woman in front of her dissapated, and the real one began walking towards her, slowly, as if gliding across the stone. Arya's feet felt frozen to the floor, and, unable to move, she stood as if petrified as the woman glided nearer. "Wandering where you have no right to be can only lead to trouble." Three steps more. The robe around the woman made it difficult to see her face, but Arya's mind's eye painted the beautiful visage in black and red, a swirling mix of chaos around her body.

As the woman almost reached her, Arya suddenly found her feet and her fear, and turned and ran, soft boots slapping the stones. The dark woman did not give chase, and in a few minutes Arya was alone again. She walked slowly, giving herself a chance to catch her breath, and berating herself for running. Coward. The woman was probably laughing at her right now. Or worse yet, following her with another spectre. Imagining a noise, Arya whirled around, and scanned the hall. Nothing. You are a coward, Ravenwing.

No, not a coward... Walking backwards Arya bumped into something, and she screamed, whirling around. Turbogeek stood in front of her, fending off her hands as Arya tried to knock him to the ground. He was fast. Very fast. Feeding off her fear and frustration, she pressed the attack, but her nerves had been shot, and her hands were shaking.

Turbogeek pinned her arms to her sides, and frowned. "Why are you screaming?"

"I...I got lost." Arya panted for breath, and then realized she was 15 feet from where she slept. The door was right down the hall. "I was expecting someone else. You startled me, Turb."

[Cardinal Aiyalin]

A grimace slid across the woman's face as she watched the girl, this Arya Ravenwing, run off into the darkness. Well enough she should be scared -- only the brave walk the halls of Bast Castle without fear. Cardinal never had anyone run from her, and found it faintly amusing. A genuine smile creased her face as the young woman laughed for the first time since Dyne had left. The voice in her mind was startled into a long silence once the girl had turned tail. Quietly, she began to muse to herself out loud.

"Hmm.. Guests of Cloak? Yes.. I have heard rumors of this girl and the amazing protege, Turbogeek. That must have been the boy beside her... interesting...."

Her voice trailed off as Card raised a hand and began chewing on her fingernail in thought. An old childhood habit that was resurrected in times of indecision, no matter how much she wished it to cease. Card could sense the figures moving away in the ultimate darkness of Bast's inner halls.

I think I will follow them. How about you, Jedi?

The voice inside her mind failed to answer, not giving into the sarcastic humor apparent. She began to walk, her soft, leather boots made muffled sounds on the stone floor as she strode ahead slowly. The castle carried the woman's fear through the halls like a beacon of light on a stormy sea; a beacon that guided Aiyalin ever closer. The young woman was interested in these two people -- especially this Turbogeek. If he truly was the famed Jedi's clone, and had his powers.. A shudder rippled through her body as the potential implications skittered across her mind.

Lost in thought, she almost turned a corner before she heard voices.

".. You startled me, Turb."

Pausing, she leaned back against the cold stone walls of the hallway. For the meanwhile, she would listen.. Staying hidden in the shadows was always something the slight, pale girl preferred.

Lurking, silent and deadly, in the shadows. Waiting for a chance to catch her prey and kill. That was how a spider hunted, waiting for a fly to become stuck in it's hidden web. A web that no prey would see until it was too late.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

The starlines faded into distant spots of white against the black canvas of space. Jyanis, the ex-General, Scorpion, stood up from his command chair aboard the Super Star Destroyer Sabretooth. He took a drink from the cup of stimtea in his hand and set it back down. Too bland for his tastes.

He could hear the roar of the rest of the fleet exiting hyperspace around him. Distinctly he could make out the Argus I, right behind them, with his own ears. He still preferred the Sabretooth as his flagship, preferring the freedom of being able to maneuver easier, and be less of an obvious target.

"I have too much time on my hands," he muttered to himself.

The monitor beside him beeped, and he lightly touched his fingertips to it, bringing up a widescreen image of Tohmahawk, spanning the bridge.

"Good to see you again, James," he motioned towards the Defender, "So that oversized junkyard works now?"

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Both Tohmahawk and West were on the bridge, beginning to work through the list of work to be done on Defender, when a comm officer stepped smartly up and saluted. Tohmahawk and West glanced up.

"Yes Ensign, what is it?" requested the General

"Sir, incoming fleet from Hyperspace and also incoming signal for you"

Tohmahawk raised an eyebrow. "Identity of the fleet? I'm presuming as your not pissing yourself in fear that it's a friendly fleet"

"Sir, yesssir! Fleet identified as commanded by a General Jyanis Scorpion"

West stood up fully. "Scorpion? I would like to meet him"

"You'll get your chance Commander. Put the transmission through to here Ensign. Well, dont keep me waiting for the good Jyanis, MOVE IT NOW!"

West watched the Ensign scuttle off. "Your a real prick sometimes General. But I guess it doesn't hurt to put the wind up the wet ears now and then"

"Too true Commander... ah..."

He saw Jyanis come on screen and then greeted Tohmhawk.

"Oversized junkyard? What do you think your doing insulting junkyards, dont you know even pieces of scrap have feelings?" He grinned. "How are you Jyanis? I take it your accepting my offer in regards to the NRSF?"

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion smirked as he responded, "Well, I thought it over, and I'd have to say I'm all for it... even if you're here too. I'm doing pretty good now, James. Like a vacation from playtime."

He turned and picked up a stack of datapads with one hand, "I'm looking forward to meeting your staff. And of course, discussing whatever needs to be discussed, and then discussing our discussion in an orderly manner. Got to love those procedures. I'll be right over. Tell the scrap metal that I'm sorry. Jyanis out."

===

The Lambda shuttle shot out from the main forward port hangar, unfolding its wings only for the short period between the two steel titans. The shuttle slowed and folded its wings, waiting for the shields to be lowered. The red light went yellow, and the craft eased through the magcon field and settled its landing gear on the shiny black hangar bay floor.

[Darth Turbogeek]

:: "You starled me Turb"

He grinned a bit shyly. "Sorry about my reaction. I guess I wasn't expecting you to be here either. Did you get lost?"

Arya seemed a touch confused and gave Turbogeek a llok at clearly said dont push the subject. Already learning that Arya could be awfully mean when she was pressed to far, Turbogeek dropped the question quick, instead frown as he noted one of the ones with a Dark Colour was in the shadows. He didnt really feel comfortable with them, they all seemed not to want to go near Turbogeek, as if he was ... dangerous? How could he be a danger? He was lucky of he could keep his feet in one direction at times. Who would be worried by him? But it still was the case they didnt seem to like him. Oh well, at least Jeseth seem to. And there was Arya. She was good enough to help Turbogeek learn hand to hand combat and she was goooooood. But a loner and not really someone to talk to. She seemed withdrawn most of the time and given that Turbogeek found this sex thing deeply uncomfortable, preferred not to be near women at all.

Actually, by himself he preferred. He spent a lot of time trying to srot out those weird flashes with no success, but it still seemed worthwhile. You never know when there was a twist and something was revealed to him. So far, there had been two - setting the ground on fire when Jeseth and him had met that Man with No Colour (still sent a shiver down his spine) and also the incredible ability of healing. It had saved Liliana's life and he had kept her secret that he had uncovered (tho the whole episode was still stressful with the baby dying) and also helping Jeseth recover from some large accident he had. At least the Dark coloured being appreciated - reluctantly - the healing gift. He shook himself, coming back out of his daydreaming as Arya jogged him in the ribs.

"Well? We getting dinner?"

"What? Oh yeah... Wanna race?" He didnt wait for an answer, he darted off in the direction of the kitchen ::

[Arya Ravenwing]

She found a smile on her face as he took off down the hallway, and Arya pushed her feet against the stone floor, chasing after him. Being frightened by that woman had given her body too much adrenaline, and a good run was perfect for draining it off.

His legs were longer, but she had better mastery over her body, and she overtook him just before they both burst into the kitchens. The large rooms were dark from misuse, but there was a working refridgeration unit and food for those who wanted it. He was laughing, but she frowned him into silence. He scuffed his toe on the floor before reaching for the bread, and she opened the cold unit, searching for some meat. She was successful, and they sat down opposite each other to create a meal of over-sized sandwiches.

Arya stared at him while she ate, but her mind was elsewhere. The kitchen smelled like...old cheese and moldy bread, with a generous helping of dust sprinkled in. Lysa Ravenwing's kitchen had smelled warm and yeasty on baking day. Arya felt a momentary pang for her dead mother, and then looked down at her hands. She'd finished the sandwich.

Turb was busy fixing another for himself, but he looked up at her to find her still staring at him. "What is it?" He carefully placed the slice of meat on the bread.

She raised an eyebrow. "I'm bored."

Taking a bite, he mumbled around the mouthful, "Jefef haf fome bookss-" he swallowed, hard. "Jeseth has some books, maybe you could read..." He trailed off as she shook her head no.

"I need action!" She got to her feet, and paced around the table, straddling the bench beside Turbogeek. He didn't back away, but stared at her from the corners of his eyes. "I need..." Arya clenched her fists and pounded one into her thigh. "I need to leave, if only for a little bit." She knew where this urge was coming from. It was the Job. She was addicted to the thrill of a space race against the NR, and the feel of credits in her pockets.

No matter what... earn their trust. Damn Hunter! At least she had her ship. Perhaps she couldn't leave, but she could at least spend a few hours on board.

[Cardinal Aiyalin]

The woman known as Cardinal Aiyalin watched the two humans run off down the hall -- going to the dining hall. None of the Black Hand ever seemed to eat there, preferring the quiet and solitude of their own quarters inside of Bast as opposed to the openness of the dank mess room. This Turbogeek would be of some interest to her. He was said to have been one of the strongest Jedi ever known, but perished at the hand of a bounty hunter. Now a clone resurrected? Odd, indeed.

Turning on her heel, she strode back the way she had come. The blackness was complete, utter quiet, peaceful solitude. The perfect compliment to eery thoughts that haunted Card's mind. They would find her if she was sought.

So art thou ready to begin thy lessons, young child?

The suddenly loud voice in her mind startled her. When her shock disapated, Card found herself backed up against the cold stone wall, fingernails digging into the flesh of her palms. A droplet of blood fell unknownst to the floor below.

"FRELLING FORCE, Jedi. Next time you decide to shout, give me fair warning. You damn near scared me out of my skin."

The Jedi began to chuckle, an uncanny sound.

"But yes, I shall begin my lessons.. Guide me Jedi, the sooner, the better.. and all will fall into place."

The light clicking of her heels echoed through the halls as she walked back to her rooms. The thoughts of the visitors left her mind as the young woman began to focus on lessons..

[Darth Turbogeek]

:: "You need to.... leave?" He pondered this. She did seem a bit wound up, but hy would anyone want to leave here? There was so much just here to learnand he wanted to learn it all before moving on....

So did she want to leave? One thing Turbogeek learned was that she was a woman who wanted action and never sat down for long.

"You bored Arya?" She nodded. "Well, how about I just Jeseth to allow you to take me somewhere? I wouldnt mind going outside for a bit either. How about you... teach me how to fly?"

Being the only real human contact Turbogeek had, he probably also crowed her space somewhat too. He was beginning to realise she didnt like people being around a lot, although so far she was happy to teach him martial arts. Jeseth seemed to like that as well, which was good considering Turbogeek wasn't grasping this Force that Jeseth was trying to teach him.... and then he had an idea.

"Wait... I've got a better idea.... can you give me a lift to somewhere quiet where I can meditate on the Force like Jeseth says I need to? Must be something here that doesnt allow me to do that?" He gave her a wink and then a big grin.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The woman held back a grimace. Meditating? Sounded even more boring. She winked back at him. "Maybe we could go to Ithor and watch grass grow." At his sudden look of intrest and curiosity, she shook her head quickly. "A joke. Sarcasm."

"What is sarcasm?"

She sighed, getting up and brushing the crumbs from the table to the floor where the mice could eat them. If there were mice in this place... "Sarcasm...saying one thing when you obviously mean something opposite. Like, watching grass grow really isn't something I want to do."

He stood as well, stuffing the last bits of his sandwich into his mouth and chewing. "Me either. Where are you going to go?"

Arya wrinkled her nose, and tapped her forehead. Perhaps... There was somewhere they could go. And she could get some unfinished business done at the same time. "Ever been to the Thring sector? Its not far from here... There's a planet crazy enough for even you to get lost in."

He grinned again. "Great. Jeseth is gone, so we don't have to ask permission."

Arya found herself smiling.

[Elieen Cross]

She was on a planet named Arcan IV

The hands parted the curtains and eyes looked out into the scence now revealed, a dirty and small village square, lashed by a late autumn storm that was washing the filth from the streets and forcing the other kind of filth into the squalid houses and taverns that made up this ugly part of the planet. Ugly to her eyes anyway and considering the places she had been in the last 10 years, that was saying something. Dull painted and worn buildings, beings that would be more suited to a sewer than walking about, almost evil food and frankly undrinkable water. The only thing this dump had going for it was the fact no one asked questions and that suited her quite well right now. Pay enough credits and you got a room that the sullen innkeeper cleaned plus stayed silent on the occupant unless they decided to walk about. The local crime gangs used the place as some sort of neutral ground, which assured the occupants who didn’t want to be found some sort of safe refuge. Step outside however and it was a tossup who could get you first – one of the thieves or the hit men.It didn’t really worry her however, even on the rare times she had ventured out, the scum of this place had learned real quick to let her walk unmolested. It was interesting how stacking a doorway of the four bodies of the aliens who had tried to shake her down had sent a clear warning she was not to be messed with.

If these dirtbags knew what her other name was, they would have abandoned the town in a nanosecond. Like must petty crims, a good 90% of the population were cowards while the other 10% were just plain smart enough to trifle with someone who killed 4 pros in three seconds. Either way suited her, She right now just wanted to be left alone to think. Or was it just to allow her mind to disengage and just sleep. If she was honest about it to herself, she had no idea why she was here, it seemed like a good idea at the time. Which any real fighter could tell you, usually ended up being the worst thing you could have done. More professionals died because of “It seemed like a good idea” than anything else she knew of and it was rather trying that she was in that situation herself now. And yet….

And yet Eileen Cross knew it was doing her good to disconnect from the galaxy. Since the events that had lead to the meeting of Force Master Hunter and eventually the killing of the Dark Jedi Venom, she had been here instead of taking care of business like she had told the self styled Bounty Hunter. Just been alone except for brief necessary contact, sometimes sleeping, other times looking out of this very window and just watching the beings moving about. A bit of exercise to keep toned was all she really did, that and some reading. Just becoming like any other citizen of this planet, just existing from day to day without any real purpose or expending any real effort. It was like some sort of blessing to finally be forced to do nothing after 10 years of being undercover, moving in shadows, being part of a galaxy the ordinary citizen didn’t know existed. A galaxy of violence and death where only the truly strong lived for long and she had lived in it for longer that just about anyone. Even had a reputation that had the Jedi thinking twice about taking her on.

In the corner of the room, on a stand, was the armour of an Imperial Royal Guard. On the table was the weapons of a Guard, the Force Pike, the Glaive, the blaster and the sabre. On the bed was the helmet and the cloak. Her Grandfather’s, a man who had served the Emperor himself before being sent on a mission and being spared from destruction when the Emperor and the other Guards died on the explosion of the second Death Star. He was given the title of Lord Fire Blade before then by the Emperor himself, a name passed on to her father and when he had no sons, passed on to her. There were some that would have said she would have been a match for her grandfather in his prime or even better, given the training she had been given in the 30 years she had been alive. Honed in the arts of combat, unfettered and almost undefeatable, she could deprive a being of life faster than they could react, was equally deadly with blaster, sabre or Pike and never gave any quarter.

Truly, she would have been a servant the Emperor himself would have been pleased with. If the well known mysogist would have given her the chace to use those skills, more likely she would have become another Mara Jade, the Emperor’s Hand and not been a Royal Guard at all. On the surface a bit of fluff, underneath deadly agent. Right now however, she was a nothing on the outside and on the inside… well that’s what she was sorting out now. It was all going so well a few months ago, she had been carrying out the secret war against Callista and her vermin, then it all began to unravel. Firstly, that damn child had crossed her path, next that fool Turbogeek had got himself killed and Venom had made an appearance. Then she had come across Hunter and her life had really gotten frelled up. Hunter was someone who should have been dead for 8 years and the more she thought of it, the more certain that Hunter couldn’t have lived. She had never heard of anyone who survived having their head spread across a platform in a fine spray and certainly no one who was walking beside her one moment, then shortened by a head the next.

It was puzzling and worth the thought.

Her eyes continued to scan the street, seeing nothing special as the rain came down. The window rattled with a gust of wind and in the distance, a rumble of thunder could be heard echoing in the hills some distance away.

She continued to sit there until the small hours of the morning, until she felt tired enough to sleep, went to the bed fully clothed, kicked her shoes off and slipped between the covers.

Even then it was sometime before she went to sleep.

[A Nameless New Republic Tech]

A lone New republic cruiser began to turn for it’s next vector after reorientating it’s nav computer, when they pounced. 10 ships, 5 cruisers. Even a full sized capital ship. The NR craft tried to fight back as it was swamped, but hardly had time to send a distress signal before it erupted into a sprout of flames and then a fireball as the reactor detonated. The attackers slunk away as other system traffic made a run for it and got out of range in a hurry.

On the bridge of one of the cruisers, two men regarded the debris as it cooled and floated away.

“Are you worried about what the Republic will do?” asked one

“No, it is politics. The Senate won’t send anyone to stop us”

“What about Jedi?”

“Ever seen a Jedi stop any thing else like this?”

“No. Incidentially, I share your view. I doubt the Republic has the guts to stop our little business”

The first nodded. “Good. Then send the communication to Drixen. We will pick up the next shipment of slaves tomorrow.”

The second bowed and left the first to stay watching the remains of the hated New Republic ship fade into nothing

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk sat in the anteroom, listening as one of his officers listed off the latest progress reports.

“That’s fine Captain, but how long will it take to get this junkpile fit for fighting?”

“Two weeks General. Most repairs are over with, but there is some supply problems that we can’t do much about. However, the Chief of State has approved the use of the Correlian missile cruisers you wanted and they are due to arrive later today”

“Well, that’s one good thing…” A comm. Link beep interrupted. “Yes, Tohmahawk… yes… ahh good, have a detachment escort Scorpion to my office at the Bridge” He clicked off and was about to turn his attention to the captain again when another call beep went off. Mildy irritated, he took the call. “Yes? What? No I don’t…. the Chief of State? Bloody hell, allright, put it through to the local holoviewer here”. He clicked off the comm. unit, throwing it against a wall in irritation. West raised an eyebrow.

“Problem Sir?”

“Bloody Solo sent me a message for some reason. Right, lets see what’s so urgent….” Tohmahawk touched a pad and the image of the Chief of State, Leia Organa Solo appeared. Older and more careworn than she was in the days of the Rebellion, she still nevertheless had real strength, something that in Tohmahawk’s opinion some of the other blowhards in the Senate needed. Despite his words, he respected Solo like no other political person and it was probably only Solo being in charge that kept him from leaving the Fleet. Probably not a bad thing in reality…

The romm was darkened and a hush came over as the President spoke.

“General Tohmahawk, I know you have been asked to prepare an attack against one of the groups who threaten the peace and security of the Republic, but there has been a greater threat identified. Three days ago, a New republic trade vessel was attacked and destroyed in an ambush. I now will show you the recordings they were able to send before they were presumably destroyed..”

The holo changed to show incoming ships, large ships. Tohmahawk watched with lips pursed tightly together as the camera was bombarded with beams of light before static. The image of the President came back on.

“Our vessel was able to get a transponder id and positively identified the lead cruiser as the ISD Vengeance, formally of the Fourth Fleet. Further equiries have turned up nothing but for the fact 22 capital ships have mysteriously disappeared, one of them being a Super Star Destroyer. I am aware the Defender is not yet in operational order, but it is the closest mainline warship with enough firepower to be able to find out what is going on and in the worst case, destroy the deserters, if that is what they are. The Senate has debated this and has voted that you are to go, helped no doubt by arguments that were conveniently placed with an ambitious Bothan” Solo’s face could be seen to twist into a smirk – She knew just as well as Tohmahawk that the NRSF needed more time to be a full operational unit, before it faced down the other big fleets on the NR borders. “Further data as we have is included as an appendix to this message. Good luck General. Solo out”. The holoplate went dull as the image faded out, leaving the room quiet and Tohmahawk leaning back in thought. West leaned forward, scrolling through the list of ships that were suspected to have deserted as well as locating the planet the New Republic vessel was last at before it was destroyed.

“Sir… Sir?”

Tohmahawk started. “Yes Commander West?”

“This is a fairly good sized fleet, almost sector fleet in size. Ac---- IV was supposed to have some reports of criminal activity and that’s where the NR ship was vaped”

“West, what I am trying to comprehend is how 22 warships, none of them smaller than a Victory class destroyer have disappeared into thin air and by the evidence here, possibly gone to business against us! I don’t really care how big the so called pirates are around there, they are not powerful enough to overtake…22 ships! That is nearly 500,000 crewers and officers, plus their associated toys. This means only one thing”

“Mutiny?”

“Yes” Tohmahawk’s eyes glittered in fury, making everyone step back. “Mutiny. Treason. On an organised scale. I would suspect that the ships are lightly manned as the resisters were killed, but obviously well enough manned to do this. Damn it, Johhanson is a good man!”

“Johhanson? Who is he sir?”

“The Captain of the Vengenance West. I knew that man. There is no way he would have mutinied.”

“Respectfully sir, the evidence defies your assertion”

“No West, Johhanson would have been killed too. Damn it!” Tohmahawk picked up a data pad and threw it against the far wall, the pad shattering. The other officers eyed each other. They all knew Tohmahawk. His anger would simmer down quickly after the need to destroy something was over. One officer’s face portrayed that he felt the same anger Tohmahawk was displaying. Mutiny was the highest crime anyone could do in the armed forces. To desert your comrades, even to kill them. Treason, mutiny, piracy. It was the same and for those left to deal with the mess, it invoked puzzlement, anger. Even feelings of revenge.

“So… what do we do General?” asked one of the other officers.

“Get Scorpion up here and then get this shop ready to depart. We’re going to war men”

Despite what they could be facing, traitors or mutineers, every man who were listening would have rather been fighting the Republic’s true enemies.

Not what once were brothers in arms.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion strolled down the corridor, escortless now that he instructed those men to stay behind and watch the shuttle, as if there was something important onboard. There wasn't. He just didn't like getting crowded.

Now, instead of heading to the bridge office, he was going to the anteroom, as per the instructions given to him by a very hyperactive junior officer. Jabbering on about big problems and trouble and such.

They really must have good stimtea here, he thought dryly.

Finally, he came to the closed doors of the anteroom. He placed his hand on the access bar and the entrance appeared. He curved around and walked into the room.

"Tohmahawk, what the hell is going on?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

Four weeks ... That meant a sizeable chunk of change was owed her. If she could send a transmission to Hunter to meet her on the planet... Arya stopped walking, waiting for Turbogeek to catch up. He was rummaging in his room, trying to gather things for his adventure.

As long as he stayed inconspicuous and out of her way, he was welcome to come. Besides, showing him a good time would earn his trust at least. The woman sighed. I guess that means I need to keep an eye on him. He came into the hallway clutching a knapsack and grinning. She reached for his face and wiped some crumbs from his cheek with her thumb. "Ready?"

He nodded.

"All right, lets move it out." The hanger wasn't far, but it took a while to get there, what with all the useless twists and turns in the halls. The Wing of the Raven was resting in near perfect condition, and Arya impatiently tapped in the security code to open the hatch -an impressive 24 digit string she dared anyone to break. Not to mention the voice activated security protocols. She motioned to Turb to keep silent.

"Hello Raven." She stepped up the descending ramp, and beckoned the apprentice in after her. If anyone's voice was heard before Arya's own... well, there wouldn't be much left of them but slag after the aft guns had finished with them. The ramp slowly lifted to close after them with a hissing clang.

Arya hurried to the cockpit, lights activating in her wake. Turbogeek entered, staring at everything, but she forgot about him for a moment. It was good to be back in the pilot's seat. But first...the transmission.

Flipping on the encoder, she recorded the holomessage. "Hunter, I'm calling about the arrangements that were made. I'm going to Arcan IV in the Thring sector to pick up some spare parts and sightsee, and would appreciate contact there. Don't waste my time, I have a very small window of oppertunity, and have company." Hearing a slight noise behind her, she hurriedly finished the recording. "I'll contact when in orbit, Ravenwing out.

Frell!" she turned and cursed as she flipped off the holorecorder. Turbogeek was standing there, poking at the bulkhead with a finger. "Don't sneak up on me!" What did he hear? Arya rolled her eyes and turned back to the console, running the message through the encryption mechanism. A few quick taps on the keys, and whoever was lucky enough to intercept this bad boy would be viewing Twi'lek pornography when they tried to open it.

She ran her fingers through her hair, and thanked her lucky stars and Aaron for building the encrypter. There wasn't another one like it, since he had built it himself from scratch, and the encryptions had never been broken. Anyone who tried to break them got a nasty surprise.

Arya leaned back and turned towards Turbogeek. "Ready to roll?"

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk glanced up as Scorpion stormed in, before pointing to the holopad. “Our esteemed Chief of State just notified me that there is what appears to be a 22 Capital ship defection going on at or about Arcan IV, including a Super Star Destroyer. Care to see for yourself?” As he pointed, his comm. call went off again. Swearing viciously, Tohmahawk pulled the device free of his pocket. “What the Frell now? This had better be bloody good!” he barked into it.

“Sir, encrypted message marked for a Force Master Hunter that the relayed have copied for you as well, marked high priority. Do you wish to take it?”

The General felt his anger changed to puzzlement. “Have you decrypted it?”

“We think so … relaying to you now”. The holopad glowed… and the most mind boggling image appeared. West and Scorpion looked at each other and some of the other officers exclaimed. Tohmahawk watched for a few seconds of the Twi’lek porn before bursting out in laughter. Oh, that was cute. Very cute. And quite clever. “Cut the transmission Ensign and route to my private terminal. I’ll read message at my leisure” He added a distinctly leering tone to his voice that made West roll his eyes. The image of the Twil’leks died out.

“Do you mind telling what that was about” asked Scorpion. “Apart from not biologically possible”

Tohmahawk indicated for the regular staff officers to leave, motioning West and Scorpion to stay. The doors closed before Tohmahawk spoke again. “Force Master Hunter has a contact behind the doors of The Black Hand. If I’m not mistaken that was her, although the contact of the message was unexpected. We’ll try a different way receive the message in case that was an anti-slice trick first to confirm”

“Someone on the inside of Black Hand? That’s a good trick. Anything in particular Hunter’s looking for?” asked West.

Tohmahawk averted his eyes, staring into the mid distance, dropping his voice in tone. But his words still echoed.

“Darth Turbogeek”

[Arya Ravenwing]

After laying in a course for the short hyperjump to Arcan IV, Arya kicked her feet up onto the co-pilot's chair, and thought about the last time she had flown the Wing of the Raven.

There were no bloodstains on the bulkheads, but she was pretty sure that she had bled on them...as had that NR officer she had managed to bash in the head with the hydrospanner. Whoever Hunter had sent to get her ship back had made sure that it was clean inside and out.

She sat up, suddenly alert. The freighter was clean...it had been cleaned, and the engines had been fixed. Arya's boots hit the floor with a muffled clang as she got to her feet. It would have been a small matter to plant a trace on the hull, and even smaller to sabatoge the systems so that a sweep wouldn't pick up the resonance.

Arya let her eyes run over the console as she bent down, kneeling on the floor. No one ever said being cautious was a mistake. She ran her hands over the access panel, and then popped it off, reaching in and pulling out the mess of wires.

If anything had been tampered with, she'd know in a matter of minutes.

"Arya?" She jumped, taken by surprise, and hit her head on the lip of the console. The woman turned, rubbing her head, to look at Turbogeek. "Are we going soon?"

She nodded, trying to remember what the meaning of patience was. "Just a minute, I have to check something first. I have the course laid in already, and once we start, its not going to take long. Its an in-sector jump. Just a few hours." Arya turned back to the access panel, looking for signs of tampering with the systems.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion raised his left eyebrow and looked at Tohmahawk as if he were in a such a state that he would need to be talked to in a slow manner. He stood leaned against the table with one hand planted on the top and lifted his other hand inquiringly.

"Yeah, uh, I have a question. What the frelling hell do you mean Hunter is looking for Turbogeek?! I don't think I need to elaborate on the fact that he's dead. Or have I been misinformed somewhat?"

Scorpion gave Tohmahawk an odd look directed only at him that noone else could have possibly seen. He knew both of Tohmahawk's two faces as the latter had been revealed to him on Hensara III. He was quite sure that it was better kept secret.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk caught Scorpion’s look ands also the tone in Jyanis’ voice

“I know that damn Jedi is dead. I saw the body myself and it’s just a bit of ashes on LV-426, which kind of covered the fact the brains of that ass were splattered against a wall before the body was burnt. Now what am I supposed to think when this Turbogeek turns up at the Jedi Bar and Grill, then proceeds to trash the frelling place? You saw that damn person yourself Jyanis, in company of that winged freak from The Black Hand. As far as I am aware there is precisely zero way a Jedi, even a Jedi as powerful as Turbogeek was can come back from the dead. Now if you have an explanation for this event I would really love to hear it, because I’m drawing a big fat zero here. I saw the body and now I’ve seen him alive again. It’s not bloody possible. Thence Hunter is after some hard evidence and we file this under Sith Joke until he does. Now, lets try this encrypt key and see what we have with this message…”

The holo unit spluttered back to life and this time, with the correct encrypt key applied, the image of Arya Ravenwing sprung to life. .

"Hunter, I'm calling about the arrangements that were made. I'm going to Arcan IV in the Thring sector to pick up some spare parts and sightsee, and would appreciate contact there. Don't waste my time, I have a very small window of opportunity, and have company.". There was a scuffle of sound and the sound of someone else in the background before the message was cut.

Tohmahawk turned his head to stare at Scorpion and West. “She said she was going to Arcan IV? What the..?”

This shed new light. Was The Black Hand behind the defection?

[Darth Turbogeek]

He heard Arya speak to him again.

“Ready to roll?”

His head snapped up and he go the usual big grin on his face for when anyone addressed him. “Yeah sure!”

“Well, get a seat then… preferably somewhere else”

“Sure!” He darted off to grab a seat. He hadn’t noticed how Arya’s ship had appeared on Vjun, but when it did a couple of weeks ago, she had been quite pleased. That was good, because Arya was more willing to seek his company and even talk a bit more than normal, not like it was much though normally. She was a pretty closed person.

Hah. Like he could compare. The other people that he had been about, these Dark Jedi… they made her look like a blabbermouth! Darth Rane had said only one word to him in four weeks – that is if a snarl could be a called a word. And some of these others…! Turbogeek had suspicions that others heard voices in their heads, but somewhat more twisted than the one he wanted to hear from in his own mind. At least his voice on the rare times it spoke seemed to want to want to help.

It was actually something of a relief to be going for a bit. Even if he rather liked that one called Hobgoblin oddly enough. Hob was funny, although the gnomeish creature was never really happy to hear Turbogeek laugh at one of his illusions. He had heard Jeseth discuss this with… Delirion? Once.

His resistance to mind tricks and probes is impressive.

His mind doesn’t know the possibility of falsehoods…. It only shows what is real.

Jeseth had tried to explain how that works. But per usual, anything about the Force went straight over his head. He wished it wasn’t so, his Master had already shown quite impressive things that could be done with this Force and it appeared the acute healing gift was of The Force. And also the ability Turbogeek had naturally with throwing weapons. He had once entertained himself for an afternoon striking down the fast moving rodents with nothing more than an old set of forks. Arya seemed to lighten up that day and had gotten into a competition, using a knife to try and outdo the apprentice.

The rodents as it turned out also went well in a tasty stew and after Jeseth had stopped shaking his head, actually seemed quite pleased, even to the point where he now would allow Turbogeek to carry around a purpose made pouch for the unusual weaponry.

It did pose an interesting question. As with the throwing weapons, he had learned hand to hand combat training incredibly fast. He had gotten a whiff that it wasn’t normal and in fact it should have taken years. Like as if he was just learning to remember skills already acquired.

I should think about that one and maybe discuss it with Jeseth. Why is it I am so new to everything and have to learn just about everything, yet a handful of things that are apparently difficult to master are completely natural? Like he was born to do them?

Yes, maybe he would. When he got back. For now, he was going to enjoy this trip immensely.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion nodded silently to himself, not immediately responding.

"We've got a legendary Jedi who was killed but isn't dead, a mass fleet defection, and a friendly neighbourhood organization of Dark Jedi stuck in the middle. Who else could use some coffee? It looks like we may be awake for a while."

He sat slowly back into his chair and patted the rail gun at his side.

"Whatever we do I'm behind you, James."

[Nathan W3st]

West had stayed silent since the holomessage. Something about it bugged him. He played it over and over in his head rolling it, but gradually focused twoard the end of the message. The noise and the voice at the end. Nathan crossed his arms and pondered it for a minute. Slowly, he scratched his chin in contemplation before deciding on the best question.

Who else was in the message?

"Sir. Could we have intel throw a few voice databases at that message? And what do we know about the Black Hand, Sir? I want to brief my team as best I can to deal with the threat. Minimizing potential for injury, and all."

There was a noticable lack of the word death when West mentioned his team. The reason was very simple. He didn't let it happen. NRSF as a rule had a very low casualty rate. They planned better, and always had ways out. And they always fought like they were going to die.

"One more thing Sir. Permission to prep the Lone Wolves for drop on Arcan IV."

[Arya Ravenwing]

All the wires were back in place, and the ETA counter was ticking down to Arcan IV. Her spur of the moment sweep of the ship hadn't uncovered anything unusual, apart from the fact she was carrying a passenger.

That was unusual enough by itself. There hadn't been another person on board in...well, quite a few years. Arya was what most people called a loner, and what some people called a bitch. She stared at the beauty of hyperspace, and shook her hair away from her face. The ETA beeped softly, and she flicked the intercomm. "Get belted in, we're dropping to realspace in five."

She strapped into the pilot seat, and guided the Wing of the Raven as it exited hyperspace and the planet of Arcan IV filled the viewscreen. It looked the same as it had in the past. Unimpressive. It was just as unimpressive on the surface. The capital city was dirty, foggy, and filled with towering buildings. Not as crowded as Coruscant, though, and the inhabitants were a good bit more ill-tempered.

Arya closed her eyes as she communicated with the Arcan IV Control, and received permission to land. It was a basic landing, no bumps, and just a clatter of silverwear from the back. Turbogeek must have left something out on a table.

Unbuckling, she pushed herself up and moved to the back, strapping on her blaster and pulling on a long coat to cover it. As she was shrugging it over her shoulders, she walked to her lone passenger, and picked up a dufflebag she had packed enroute. "Well, we've arrived, and I hope you're ready for an adventure." He followed her down the ramp, and watched as she activated the alarm system.

She flipped a few credits at a tech nearby. "There will be more for you if she's untouched when we leave." He caught the chit easily in a greasy hand, and nodded as they walked out of the landing bay.

Arya turned to Turbogeek. "I'm going to see about getting us some rooms in a hotel, so why don't you... round up some food for dinner, hmm? There seem to be some promising looking places down that street." She pointed down a grimy road clogged with wheeled traffic. There was repulsor traffic as well, about thirty feet above their heads.

Turbogeek nodded. "Where will you be?"

She shrugged, "There are hotels down this street as well, but mostly on the other side of the road. I'll walk down a ways and see what I can find." Arya paused. "We can meet in an hour at the Green Dragon Tavern. You can't miss it, its all neon and flashing. Even if the fog rolls in, you'll be able to see it."

And with that, she darted into the street, running through the traffic to the other side. She waved once, encouragingly at Turbogeek, and then walked briskly down the sidewalk, her grey coat seeming to blend into the walls beside her. There was a small place just ahead, the Arcan IV Embassy Suites, which boasted a spa in every room. Arya mused that they probably just supplied the bathrooms with straws, and you blew your own bubbles in the water. But, it looked cheap, and that was good for her bank account. At least until she got ahold of Hunter.

At the front desk she was greeted by a shiny droid and a drooly Sullustian, one of whom informed her there was only one available room, took her money, and gave her the key. The other showed her the elevator, informed her about the security protocols and emergency exits (which Arya memorized, and hoped she wouldn't have to use them). It didn't really matter which was which, but the droid stayed at the counter, and the alien showed her her room.

Once inside, Arya unzipped her bag, and pulled out a small box which she quickly wired to the comm system of the hotel. She plugged the box into a small output screen, and then attached a keypad and a few other small bits of hardwear. From there she would be able to monitor the comm traffic of the hotel, and the front door, through the security cameras. Completely illegal, and completely untraceable. The droid and the Sullustian wouldn't even know she'd been there.

Arya composed a short written message for Hunter, and sent it, encrypted in a similar fashion as before. Hunter, contact me on this frequency when in the area. We can arrange a meeting then. Aren't Twi'leks beautiful? Enjoy the view. He'd know who it was, and she wasn't feeling the least bit afraid of him anymore, hence the reference to the Twi'lek surprise. She worked a few minutes on the door lock, stepped outside, and activated the Do Not Disturb sign. Arya placed a thin wire at the top of the door, lightly gumming it in place across the door to the frame.

She'd know if someone had broken into the room while she'd been out.

The woman stepped into the turbolift and let it carry her downstairs to the first floor. The Green Dragon Tavern and hopefully dinner awaited her. I hope Turb hasn't gotten into too much trouble. She rolled her eyes. He was so mildmannered it seemed impossible.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk listened to West’s suggestion and leaned back.

“As much as I like the idea of a voice analysis to find out who might be in the background, I don’t want any hint of the name Ravenwing going anywhere especially if it may endanger her. Granted, unlikely, but I feel we should only keep this recording to our eyes only”

Tohmahawk paused, seeming to think. In reality, he was having another of the hunches he often got and hated ever so much. Not because they weren’t useful, because they were. It was the fact he got them at all that he hated. He just knew it would be there nagging him until he gave in and acted it out. And they were always right. Always.

Why was he cursed with them in the first place? Was it some sort of great cosmic joke?

[i] You know damn well why.

Oh shut up and go away </I.

He bought his head down, hands meeting his face and fingertips began to massage aching temples. Frell, he couldn’t fault the logic in this hint either, it actually was a good idea.

“Get the team prepped Commander West. As Arcan IV is supposed to be a den of scum, I suggest leaving a data trail of smuggling for cover. Normal NRSF routine….. no wait.”

Damn this, It WAS the best way to get in and out alive.

“Jyanis, detail command ops to get the fleet ready to move. Full alert and permission to fire. I want this scrapyard mobile 96 hours after we depart. If we don’t make contact by then, they are to hightail it to the sector and wipe out anything that moves and slag Arcan IV to the ground. West, tell your team that they are to adopt mercenary guises. Jyanis, if you have a underground id, now is a good time to dust it off. The team will report to my personal ship. I want both of you to be ready there, dressed in civvies and armed, Jyanis, if your going to bring that double ended toothpick, make sure it’s well disguised. West, give the Wolves archive tapes TBH-0012 and 0013, which is all the information we have on them. Also make them aware there will be company with them this time. We’re going in with the team”

Frell. Talk about committed.

“We’ll use Force Master Hunter to get us onto the planet unmolested”

Too committed.

“Any questions?”

[Darth Turbogeek]

Turbogeek nodded as he listened to Arya’s instructions and repeated them to himself. Green Dragon Tavern. Food. He nodded once to acknowledge, then watched as she walked off. He saw her wave once and then disappear into the crowd… leaving him by himself for the first time, in a place he didn’t know or hardly comprehended. He was surprised to feel like he was free and quite unconcerned. Even more so, he was very much looking forward to looking about with no one else to watch over him. Even if just about everything was new, it would be quite an experience.

He began to walk casually down the street in the indicated direction of the tavern, deciding it would be a good idea to locate this place first and then look for food from there. It didn’t take him long, The Green Dragon Tavern sign certainly WAS quite visible. He checked the small chrono he had found at Vjun, mentally worked out how much time he had and then began to look about for a likely place to get food.

Being a place where being of all descriptions frequented, the choice was amazing and smelt a good deal better than the rather bland fare The Black Hand had in store. Here, there was meats of all sorts, vegetables that he couldn’t imagine, liquids in pots, some foul beyond belief, some that were so good he could hear his stomach rumble in response. Some places sold things in cages and even allowed customers to eat on the spot. Not really knowing that humans were in the scheme of things, reasonably fussy eaters, he still didn’t really want to try to get anything too exotic, even he had learned Evil Hobgoblin ate stuff that was plain disgusting to Turbogeek. Could well be that other being were like that. Maybe if he looked for a place where humans were, he couldn’t go wrong.

Given the crowds, it wasn’t a bad idea and it was fairly quick in pin pointing something fast. A grizzled fat man stirred some trays containing all manner of slop, while a few other humans cooked assorted meats or cut fruits. It didn’t all smell half bad. He gave everything an examination, still didn’t really find anything he was familiar with.

“Hey!”

Turbogeek looked up at the fat man. He put on a mildy stern face and voice inflection. “Yes?”

“You going to just look or are you going to buy something?”

“Well, buy of course. However I haven’t seen some of this before and I was wondering what might be good to take a chance on”

Fat Man nodded. “Well, we don’t a bad squid and octopus in sauce. Mixed fry over there is pretty good. Bantha sandwich might be okay for a snack”

“Allright, I will have a squid and a fry thanks”

Fatman waddled off and returned ina few minutes with a bag which had two sealed containers. “25 credits”

Turbogeek haded the money over, nodded his thanks before walking away. After taking a few steps, he turned around to take note of the sign of the place and made a mental note of it’s location. Could be worthwhile coming back to this place later if the food turned out allright. Odd name though. What in the world did ‘Soup Nazi’ mean?

Now where was he in relation to the Tavern…? Oh there is was, he could see the sign clearly. He made for it, bustling a bit as he had spent a bit more time finding food than he expected.

When he reached the building, he could see it wasn’t greatly maintained. The sign itself buzzed slightly and the door could have done with a coat of paint, plus it was fairly dark inside. There was a quiet bit of music in the background and the sound of conversation as he stepped down in the room. It was warm and uncluttered, smoke in places drifted up from booths. On one side was a bar that served for the few beings wanting a drink. There was a few tables with pots in the middle, with beings appearing to be throwing cards and coins around at odd times. He gave the room a good looking over, before picking out a booth that was in a corner and more importantly that allowed Arya and himself to keep an eye on the entire floor. It was one of those things she had taught him and it did seem like a good idea. As he walked past a group of beings he couldn’t identify, he suddenly felt the hair on the back of his neck prickle. He quickened his step, as it was the same prickle he got when one of the Dark Jedi in Bast were glaring at him.

Turbogeek made the safety of the booth and careful not to meet the stares of the group, he signalled over a waitress. He ordered two drinks, before reclining back to wait.

Movement caught his eye. He glaned … and then his full attention was presented with the sight of the beings getting up and walking straight over t o him. Something in him said this was not good and he ducked a hand to where his pouch was. One of the beings stopped near him and said something in a grunting language.

“I’m sorry…. I don’t understand. What was that?”

Another grunt, but this time a Rodian pushed to the front of the group. As it did, the lone human looked about and saw that other beings were making a point of haiving their attention elsewhere. Something about this was feeling very, very bad.

“He said…. You have good boots no?. Only rich humans have boots good like that?”

That made absolutely no sense to Turbogeek. He had found this footwear in Bast Castle. “Well, I found these shoes. Why would they make me… rich?” What was rich anyway?

The beast grunted again the Rodian translating. “You are new here. That means we get to take your money or we beat you up. Fair deal?”

“What kind of a stupid deal is that?!?!” exclaimed Turbogeek, somewhat surprised and outraged.

“It’s called the best deal your going to get from us. Now hand your money over.”

He suddenly worked out what this was. One of the books Turbogeek had read on Vjun described something called a theft. But shouldn’t be in a dark alley? “Hang on, you cant do this in here! You have to be in an alleyway!!!!”

This provoked a huge roar of laughter, before one of the beast grabbed the human and flung him to the ground. Turbogeek froze in astonishment, then felt himself dragged upright, a hand grabbing the front of his clothes and hoisting him off the ground.
He flailed about on the end of the huge reach this being had and quite unable to escape. “Hey! Put me down!”

“You can get your wish human… we’re going to rob you and beat you up in the alley” sniggered the Rodian

Oh frell. One of Turbogeek’s hands tried to slap the arm hoding him off the ground, trying to breathe through the clothing now restricting his chest. The other hand dipped into the pouch and in one movement, picked out one of his knives and stabbed the bicep of the beast. The beast dropped him and howled in pain.

Turbogeek ducked a swinging arm, before accelerating and running into a gap. He saw a couch in his way, stuck out an arm, dived, his hand touched the backrest, pushed with his hand, spun and somersaulted, to land on his feet quite a few feet away. That move seemed to have caught the attention of some of the patrons, as well as the gang, who were now moving to intercept. One beast moved to cover the exit, while the other… five… moved to make an entrapment. Turbogeek drew out the other blade and readied himself, relaxing and bringing his weight to his balls of his feet as Arya had taught him. A startled yelp from the door didn’t distract his as the group attacked in one wave.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

A grin slowly formed on Scorpion's face, "A slag option. Reminds me of the good old days. Don't worry, my ID is active. I used it to play sabacc at a tavern last week, you know, incase I can't pay up. And my lightstaff..."

He paused for a moment to unclip and slide one end of the lightstaff up into the other to form a single bladed lightsaber, then, smiling, took a small attachment from his pocket and clipped it onto the top. When glanced at the assortment resembled a lasertorch.

"...comes in all sorts of shapes and sizes."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya entered the Green Dragon Tavern, and yelped. It was unprofessional, but the sight she saw before her caught her off guard. Turbogeek was facing off several rough looking individuals, and he was outnumbered, seven to one. She pushed her way around the alien who was blocking the entrance, and hurried to the center of the room, which by now had cleared completely except for Turbogeek and the rogues.

“What the frell is going on here!?” She had a good idea, but it didn’t hurt to ask.

“Hey pretty lady, you know him?” A common looking man leered at her. “You could know me, I’m much better looking. In fact, forget the boots, I’m taking the woman.” Arya didn’t scream as he lunged for her, but instead smashed the heel of her hand into his nose with a stiff arm. Blood spurted from his broken nose, and he yelled in pain. “Frelling bitc-!” She punctuated his unfinished word with a hard punch in the solar plexus, knocking the breath out of him.

The taller man fell backwards, caught completely by surprise. Arya stepped up, and drew her foot back for a kick to his groin, but was instead pulled backwards herself by another thug, a beast of an alien. She screamed in rage, and kicked out, thrashing to knock the being off balance. The others were assailing Turbogeek, but she had no time to think of him as Broken Nose staggered up to her as the alien behind her held her tightly. “So you like it rough, eh?” He leered some more at her, “So do I.” Arya grimaced as he leaned even closer, unshaven, bloodied face puckering for a slobbery kiss. The one holding her chuckled, his grip tightening.

The woman clenched her teeth and threw her head forwards, bashing Broken Nose with her forehead. He fell away, screaming in pain, as Arya lunged backwards, knocking her captor in the face with the back of her head, and causing them both to topple over backwards. His grip loosened, and she broke free, kicking her feet up and knocking away Broken Nose as he staggered up in rage. Arya leapt to her feet, ducked a punch, and kicked the alien in the kneecap with her booted foot. As he winced in pain, she continued her attack, kicking him in the groin with her other foot and then his stomach. The beast doubled over, and she grabbed his hair, smashing his face on her knee. She released him, and he slid to the floor.

Pivoting on her foot, she kicked Broken Nose in the neck, and he fell again, spluttering and bleeding. “Turbogeek!” She looked for him, and couldn’t help noticing that others were taking an interest in her as well. Arya flexed her hands, absently noting the scars on her knuckles from past bar fights. Well, boys, bring it on.

[Darth Turbogeek]

“What the frell is going on here?!?!”

He heard her words but didn’t look at her. He was instead doing as she had taught him… concentrating on his opponents. There was a brief thump before one of the aliens swept into the man in a solitary attack. Turbogeek flashed a knife in front of the beast, enough to make it falter and give him time to plant a sweeping kick into the neck of this thing. The boot dug into the alien’s flesh and drew blood as it abrased the skin, the beast now put completely off it’s attack and open to a knife slash to the chest. Turbogeek danced left with blood now smearing the blade, the beast grunting in response to the line of pain it now had. Not fatal or even serious… but enough to put that one out of the fight for a moment. The other four assailants attacked together. Turbogeek didn’t even try to defend himself, he gathered his legs and did a backflip that cleared all of them and put him 4 meters away. So unexpected was this that he even had time to draw back and cut a second beast down with a precise knife throw, the blade wedging in it’s chest as it turned in confusion to see where had gone.

Enboldened, Turbogeek took fur steps forward, stepped with his left, pushed upwards and jumped up in front of the Rodian, actually getting high enough to be able to side kick downwards, belting the Rodian in the snout. It stumbled and then howled as Turbogeek’s second knife was jammed in the alien’s leg, his arm sweeping down as he landed.

The final two beasts were both much bigger and they came at him at exactly the same time in a frontal attack. Turbogeek again jumped clear, but almost straight into a new assailant, pipe wielding human. The human swung just as he landed, however Turbogeek went into the splits, ducking the pipe and using a palm heel strike to the human’s groin. There was a crunch and a groin, then another thump as Turbogeek came up, smashing an uppercut to the human’s jaw. He finally got the time to see what Arya was doing, seeing she was being attacked as well. A beautiful kick smashed her attacker to the floor, saw she was looking for him. He heard her call out his name….

And the thugs froze as did the entire bar. From what was an entertaining bar brawl, somehow there came a wave of confusion and… fear. Turbogeek could feel it. There was fear. He stood up and eyed off the thugs who were now looking extremely uncertain. Even looking panicy. What, was there something else in the bar, namely the authorities? He glanced about but saw no one else to explain this sudden shift in mood.

“I don’t care if your Turbogeek or not… YOU DIE!!!!!” The Rodian had removed the knife from it’s leg, and was poised to throw. It’s hand flashed and the deadly steel flew….

It happened far too fast to be seen. The Rodian suddenly screamed in pain and a hand clutched at something protruding from it’s chest. The handle of the knife that had somehow been caught in mid air and returned harder and faster. The Rodian toppled over backwards like a felled tree and crashed into a table, upending it as the alien fell dead to the floor. The entire bar floor froze, except for Turbogeek, who walked over to the Rodian and without concern, pulled the knife out, turning as he did to the shocked thugs.

“Allright, who’s next?” he called out loudly.

In three seconds flat, the thugs had cleared out and there were a lot of spectators now doing their best to have interests elsewhere.

Turbogeek shrugged and then began to walk back to the booth where his food was. Like so much of the Galaxy, the whole event was inexplicable to him.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce Tondry stroked his chin. That was not the Turbogeek he'd seen in action.

There was something about the eyes, and about the fighting stance, that suggested that whatever drove the man in the bar, it was more instinctive than conscious. The man who had absently been labeled Turbogeek was not the same person who had a legend behind his reputation, because this fellow was new to fighting.

It was most curious.

It was also a confirmation of the rumors that stated Turbogeek was dead, too. This fellow might look like Turbogeek, and even show flashes of that same abrasive personality, but he wasn't THE Turbogeek.

Which led to the question of who he was, why there was a woman in the bar who knew who he was, and what he was doing in the locational middle of Pierce's operation.

And more importantly, why did he have to have chosen the same damn bar as Pierce had?

"Another Chandrilan Duster?"

Pierce looked up from his mug, where he had been vacantly staring. It was not hard for him to pretend to be one of the sorrowful drunks found in bars across the galaxy. He even knew how to carry a few worries in the back of his head, just in case a Sith or Jedi decided to wander into his general vicinity. "Yeah," he mumbled.

The barkeep turned around and began to work with his drink bottles while Pierce began considering the implications of Turbogeek's presence. More Jedi, and obviously Republic involvement would follow-

But wait. That would probably have been true with the old Turbogeek. This was someone different. A clone, perhaps?

Pierce bit his lip. Although a lot of things in the galaxy revolved around clones these days, Pierce's Intelligence training shied away from explaining everything that way. Could this be the old DT, but with amnesia?

So many questions. Pierce needed answers. Otherwise, this little defection he'd organized had a good chance of falling apart.

But since he knew Turbogeek was here, and since he knew the Republic would be responding soon if not already, Pierce could ready his forces to counter Jedi and Republic interference.

"There you go," the barkeep said, setting a tall mug of a fiery amber liquid in front of him. "One Chandrilan Duster. Oh, and Mr. Yevyss wants to talk to you."

"Great, thanks," Pierce nodded. "I'll be leaving in just a second. But do me a favor."

The barkeep stood waiting expectantly, which Pierce took for a 'yes'. He nodded his head slightly in the direction of the booth where Turbogeek was sitting. "See if you can get him to give you a credit or two for the mess."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya blinked as the thugs scrambled over each other in their haste to leave the bar. She brushed her hair out of her eyes, and looked for Turbogeek, who was just then sitting down in a booth. It clicked. Frelling ashes, I called out his name. They thought he was the Turbogeek.

Of course, from what she had seen of this man, there was no way he could be the legendary Jedi Master. Besides, that one had died at least a year ago...if not longer. Arya walked quickly over to her companion, and slid into the booth. He looked at her quizically, and she reached across and wiped some blood off his cheek. It wasn't his blood, and she cleaned her fingers with a napkin. "What happened?"

He shrugged, "I don't know, Arya." Munching the meal he had managed to come up with, Turb pushed a plate over to her. "Dinner?"

"Thanks, but I think we'd better go." Arya bundled the food back into its packaging, and shoved it into the bag he must have brought it in.

Turb looked even more confused, "But why?"

Child, she thought, looking into his dark eyes. "Because the owner isn't going to like the fact that you drove out all of his business. In fact, here he comes now." She got to her feet, flexing her hands. They felt a little stiff. Leaning back, she spoke softer, "Why don't you get dinner and start to the door, I'll catch up in a second." Turbogeek got to his feet, walking away as someone who was obviously the owner came spluttering up to them.

Arya held out her hand to stop him from going after Turb. "I apologize for the mess, good sir." She opened her hand in front of him, exposing the credit chits enclosed inside. "Perhaps these will help compensate for the losses."

The man's eyes widened, and he snatched at the credits. "Well, they'll cover some..." he eyed her coat, obviously not realizing the slight bulge in her pocket was her blaster strapped to her hip.

Arya raised an eyebrow. "That will more than cover it. Now, we'll be on our way." She sidestepped the man, and strode to the entrance, where Turb was patiently waiting for her. She jerked her head to the door, and they exited.

Once outside, she indicated their hotel. "We're staying over there, on the fourth floor." She contined walkig down the side of the street they were on, and he followed after a bit.

"Aren't we going there?" He looked back to the hotel.

The woman smiled. "Of course, but not after I get something to drink. After a fight like that one needs something to wet the throat. Ah," she stopped outside another bar, signed simply as Guinness. "I hope they have a good strong dark ale in here." Arya turned to the man, "Wait here, I'll be back in a second, and we'll go to the hotel to eat and drink in private."

She slipped into the bar, leaving Turbogeek on the street once again.

[Elieen Cross]

I sat at the bar, not doing much. Sitting in a corner and just having some of the hard alcohol I drank when I came here. The bar itself, named The Green Dragon Tavern, was a mildly sleazy place and it suited me well. Not that I liked to join in, but I had made it clear I brokered no disturbance by anyone, especially males that had anything on their minds other than sabacc. Gutting the first one from shoulder to groin certainly had made word spread and in some ways, I had yet again been accepted as one of the boys. It was good as this place had become a place where I could relax to a degree and interact with the scum if I wished. Even had done a few odd jobs that had marked myself as someone more than competent and was even building a clientele that were beginning to pay well for what I could do. Over the years, I had been a valued agent of the Imperial Empire under Grand Admiral Thrawn and was still a member in name of the Imperial Intelligence Agency, although I had not been there for a long time. Would they still know me?

Not in this dress and name they wouldn’t. Maybe that was a good thing. Maybe that part of life was over. I thought about this as I took a sip from the beer I preferred, called VeeBee in localspeak. One day I should reveal myself again. One day when life was stopped from throwing unwanted surprises at me, which had not happened for some time. I was even getting a bit bored and impatient for action, which was an even better sign mentally I was righted again. Even if I didn’t recontact IIHQ, I could always recommence the war with Callista, for much was still to do in respect of that. Even more so that I had even carried a pack with me, a fairy bulky one like I used to.

The scum in this place would be most indecently surprised what was in there and probably more surprised what it meant.

But for now there was still time to allow the Galaxy to pass me by. I sat at the table just watching the familiar locals come in and out and saw the local satnd over gang enter. Distaste filled my face as I watched the two humans, the Rodian and the 5 Vig’gans come in, select their usual table. I stared at them briefly, wondering what they were going to now. I had seen them shake down beings in here before and the owner even encouraged it to a degree as he got a cut. Not the regulars or locals of course. Clueless tourists who didn’t know better than to enter a dive like this. They had tried me once and they soon learned their lesson. They left me alone and one Vig’gan still bore the scar where a blaster barrel had impolitely shoved up it’s nose. Amusing even.

It didn’t take long. A lone male, a human walked in. Interestingly unlike most tourists, he picked out a table someone with fighting knowledge would have, which made me follow him a bit more carefully. Happy go lucky type. Bouncy even by the walk. About 25 and unkept. Didn’t get a really good look at his face. Right on cue, the crims went over to him, picked an argument and tried to drag him out. Yep, standard op. I went back to my beer.

Very suddenly, it wasn’t standard at all as the human escaped and did an impossible and flashy leap into clear space. That caught my attention. Even more so that I got a closer look at his face and damn near dropped my glass. Just when I thought the Galaxy was making sense it went and did this to me. What in the blazing skies was a dead Jedi Master doing in this place and defending himself from a bunch of hoods, maybe in an amateur way, but effectively? This couldn’t right, he was dead and I knew know!

I placed down my glass. This was too much, I would have to find out more. I could see that he would be entertained for a few more minutes, so I made a decision. Being my real self would be of less help than what was in the large bag. I got up and hurriedly moved to the refreshers, picked an empty one and locked the door behind me. I opened the bag, revealing the armour and cloak of the Imperial Royal Guard. Yes, I would stand out. But it was how I worked and I was skilled in keeping unseen. These scum in here would get a real scare if they knew of me.

I was practiced in a quick change and in a minute I had only to place the helmet on. A helmet I had not worn for some time. Mentally, I prepared for the switch that would happen when my eyes looked through the visor. I closed them and placed the helm on, hiding the face of Elieen Cross….

[Lord Fire Blade]

And became Lord Fire Blade, Destroyer of the Jedi Temple, undefeated in combat, agent of fear. I decided the bag could be left as I took out the chosen weapon, a Force Pike. An unusual weapon and an effective one. I had a cloak to cover myself. Wouldn’t fool anyone inside until I could find a better hood, but when I was outside I would look the part of another wacko in the crowds. Yes, it could be done, even in something distinct as this armour. I unlocked the door, pushed it open and re-entered the bar area. My footsteps were quiet and I gauged if the being who looked like Turbogeek was here. No. And the crims weren’t either. Interesting. There was some furniture damage, which suggested the fight had indeed gone on. Fine. I began to walk out, looking about to see if this Turbogeek was about. He wasn’t…. but I clearly got a sighter on someone else I knew.

Pierce Tondry? What the hell was he doing here? He would know me from Intel, even if vaguely and if he was looking, would recognise a Imperial Guard and work out there was only one who could truly wear the armour right. He would know who it was.

I didn’t try to make contact, instead I walked out and began to disappear into the crowds. I took a guess and went in the direction I suspected this Turbogeek had gone and a moment later saw I was right. I drifted into the shadows to watch this man unseen, the visor in the helmet providing some magnification.

And considered. Pierce Tondry, a Director of Intelligence. One good operative. What appeared to be a younger version of Darth Turbogeek, a dead Jedi Master. Something was up here and it was time I got involved. I began to use my limited Force skills to examine this man and rapidly came to the conclusion, he was very powerful, but he was not The Jedi Master I had fought.

Most interesting. Was Tondry behind this? If he was, it was a most interesting play. What did he hope to achieve from it?

I would definantly find out more. This was too good to let go.

[Pierce Tondry]

' Where there's smoke, there's always someone with a bucket of water who wants to put out whatever fire's there,' Pierce thought to himself. ' Too bad some fires don't go away with water.~

He wasn't inclined to wait for the barkeep to come back and report what had happened, but he did it anyway. The barkeep returned and set a large bag on the table. "She gave me this," he said, and upended the bag just enough so that the credits inside could fall onto the bar without scattering everywhere and making a mess. A good twenty or thirty credits were stashed inside.

So the woman had bought silence along with a cleanup. Interesting.

"What do you think?" the barkeep asked.

"I think things are gonna go to hell, handbasket style," Pierce replied. The Chandrilan Duster finished itself in Pierce's throat and he returned the mug to the table. "And it'll be one of those small, cramped handbaskets where everyone in it gets well acquainted with everyone else there on the ride down."

He turned and caught a glimpse of a red shadow exiting the bar. His brow furrowed, then he shrugged. "I plan to leave a grenade in my seat on the handbasket," he added.

The barkeep cleared his throat. "Mister-"

"Yevyss wants to see me," Pierce saw no point in letting the man reply. The barkeep- one Snood Notty- was a criminal of fairly limited imagination. But of course, he owned the bar and had someone powerful to look out for him, so he was fairly safe in the grand scheme of things.

Damn Yevyss and his damn connections anyway.

Working with scum and goverments were two things Pierce didn't like, because they were both the same type of person. The difference was that one side straddled the laws, and the other side did their best to avoid those laws altogether.

Pierce left the bar and headed through the crowds. Even without stopping to ask, he could sense that the mood of the populace was light and cheery. A new governor was in office. He had promised many things. The masses had hopes for a better life.

What would it have done to those masses to know that Planetary Governor Desmond Yevyss had his hand in almost every shady dealing and criminal organization on Arcan IV?

In addition to having criminal ties extending three sectors out, the good Governor also had an actual military supporting him. It was second-rate, and an average Intel operative could match five Arcan troops any day. Which meant, in Pierce's equation of things, that those same five Arcan troops were worth about twenty of the Republic's finest.

Pierce grinned slightly at his own humor, then sobered. He knew that, when push came to shove, Intel and the Republic were about evenly matched. Intel had a one-up on quality, but the downside was that it had far fewer agents to work with than the Republic did. It had to make one of its' men worth three of the Republic's, or else it wouldn't be able to function at all.

Which was why Pierce was here, now, in front of the Governor's Mansion of Arcan about to meet with one of the most two-faced characters since Palpatine.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya opened the door to their room at the Embassy Suites, carefully checking the thin wire at the top of the frame first. It was still intact, indicating the room had not been opened in her absence. With a slight click the door slid open, and she half pushed Turbogeek inside.

She closed the door behind them, fiddling a little with the lock. When she turned around again, he was setting the containers of food on the small table. Arya walked over, and pulled out one of the two chairs, spinning it around and sitting so she straddled the back of it. "So what did you find for dinner?"

He opened the containers. "Squid in sauce, and fry..." Turbogeek paused as he saw the look on her face. "Not good? I enjoyed it."

Arya shrugged, "I don't go in for seafood often. But, I'm starving, and so I'll eat it." She took a fork from him, and started in on her half of the meal. After the first forkfull, she chewed slowly, and swallowed, her face completely blank. Then she turned slightly, reached for the bottle that was concealed in a brown sack, and drew it out. Opening it, she brought it to her mouth and knocked some back.

Turbogeek watched in silence as she steeled herself for another forkfull. "Do you like it, Arya?"

She grimaced. "It tastes like frelling bantha dung...or at least what I imagine it tastes like." Arya chased the squid with the ale, chewing and swallowing with her eyes closed. "But its food."

Offering the bottle to Turbogeek, she tried the fry...much better.

[Darth Turbogeek]

He took hold of the bottle and took a gulp and swallowed.

Fifty seconds later he was still gasping for breath. Whatever was in that bottle had burned on the way down and had a taste like a toilet. Arya ckeekily offered him another sip, which Turbogeek refused.

“How… how the frell can you drink…. That stuff? I thought my throat was going to catch fire! What WAS it?”

“Ol’ Janx Spirt” He could see she was trying hard not to laugh. He didn’t really like that, but he guessed for now there was little he could do about it. She could kick his butt and was a good deal tougher than he was. Sometimes he did feel like a tagalong and even more he was puzzled why she didn’t just leave Vjun. Or why she put up with him. Despite his painfully happy go lucky nature, he was painfully aware that he wasn’t really much in anyones eyes.

He took up the bowl of squid and began to eat, somewhat thoughtful. The more the ate, the deeper his frown got and he thought through what was on his mind. Eventually, he placed the fork down.

“Arya… I’m not all that good at anything am I?”

The question startled her. “Well…… your good at healing. You did something your Master still doesn’t understand how was possible and you do pick up fighting…”

“But I’m not as good as you”

“I wouldn’t..”

“No, I’m not. I know. It was good luck those aliens were stupid else I’ld be squashed and even then…. It was only when you said my name that they ran off. Why?”

“I…”

“Why did they? You said my name and they ran off!” He was building up a fair bit of emotion as something that had been bothering finally broke free for him to express. “The Dark Jedi at Bast, they’re the same! Every time I’m there, they look at me with resentment and hate, sometimes even fear! Every new person who is introduced to me takes three steps back like I’m explosive! Those thugs looked like they were going to die of fright! Why?”

“Turb…”

“It isn’t right! What the hell have I done to get reactions like this?!?! It’s so damn unfair, everyone is really nice until they hear my name and then it’s like I’m radioactive or worse! I see you sometimes do that, you act at times like your scared of me! Why do you do that Arya?! WHY!?! I’m nothing! And why is my memory all wrong? I have exactly 6 weeks of life I have clear memory of and yet I seem to be at 25 years old! And I have flashes that tell me of a life I don’t know of! What is going on here, I know this isn’t normal! No one runs in fear if I yelled your name!”

He took a breath, before standing up and placing his hands on the table, his eyes alight with anger at the injustice of it all. “WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?!?!”

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce approached the front gate.

The Governor's Mansion looked more like a skyhook tower than it did a politician's residence. There was an ornamental, yet practical steelcrete fence that had high scale energy field readings, a personal shuttlepad with turbolaser turrets guarding it, low, flat lawns that were well-kept with few trees, and six guards for the front gate alone. Instead of focussing on opulence, Desmond Yevyss had focussed on making an impenetrable fortress.

"Please enter, Mr. Jax," one of the guards stated coolly. "Governor Yevyss would like to see you."

Pierce simply continued walking through the pedestrian gate that the guard had open. He did not acknowledge the guard, or break his step, or give any kind of recognition whatsoever, nor did he pause inside the security scan room.

The scanner operator tried to catch Pierce's eye, and when that failed he signalled the gatekeeper, who hefted his blaster meaningfully to the aiming position. "Please return to the safe room to be scanned, sir."

The act caused Pierce to stop and spin, staring directly in the eyes of the man with the gun. The guard did not move in return, and the staring contest lasted a full half minute. Neither man actually gave in, but the guard's eyes seemed to withdraw inside themselves and he shivered.

Pierce turned around and continued walking, picking up snippets of conversation from the guards behind him.

"Why didn't you shoot?"

"If I'd fired, I don't think I would have lived. Something about him is as cold and dead as a Hoth snowplain."

######

A set of polished panel doors opened, and Pierce stepped through them. "Ahhh," a smooth voice stated in a pleasant tone. "General Corinas Jax. It seems I require your services yet again."

"I thought we agreed that my part in this deal was over," Pierce stated flatly, ignoring the three other men in the room and focussing on Yevyss. "Those twenty-two ships of the Fourth are yours, and the Governorship is yours uncontested. You owe my organization a total of fifty million Galactic credits and have yet to pay."

"And I am more than happy to pay," Desmond replied with a pleasant smile. "But it seems that there is a danger to my plans. My sources tell me that the New Republic has not only learned of the disappearance of my new vessels, but has also moved their military into place to work against us. They have yet to unravel exactly how I've managed to take their ships, but they will seek to do just that. And since it was you who spun the web of lies that allowed me to take those ships and put some of my own men in place aboard them, I feel that your assistance may be needed to solidify my control over my excellent fleet."

It was not a surprise. Pierce had been a tactical advisor several times over the years, and one of the things people who hired his services always did was attempt to hold onto him after the job was done.

"You owe my organization fifty million credits. How do you plan to pay it?"

Yevyss shrugged. "At the moment, most of my funds are tied up. I can bankrupt a few orphanages, if you'd like, although that might shatter some of the illusions I've built up about my philanthropic policies. Of course, you can always wait a few days for my new fleet to acquire some items we can sell and thus raise some money."

Pierce's eyes narrowed. "Thirty-thousand extra credits."

Yevyss smiled. "I knew I read your character correctly, General Jax. General Olar and Admiral Jeger are ready to hear whatever input you have on the situation."

Pierce eyed the two professional-looking officers to Yevyss' right. Neither of them seemed overly enthused by the news that they couldn't play with their soldiers and ships yet, but their faces showed that they were willing to be patient. Olar in particular, showed placidity behind his bushy mustache.

"Fine," Pierce said. "Let's head to Tactical."

[Arya Ravenwing]

What indeed. Arya swallowed the alchohol in her mouth, and set the bottle down with a thump. A little ale sloshed out and splashed on the tabletop, and she wiped her mouth with the back of her hand. "Calm down a little, Turb, I've seen you when you're angry, and I don't want to be on the wrong end of that, 'kay?"

She reached across the small table and laid her hand on his arm. Her mind's eye was dark, but she didn't need it to sense the roiling emotions present inside this man. He lifted dark, yet pleading eyes to her. Arya took a deep breath, and let it out slowly.

"The name Turbogeek is not one I should have yelled out in a bar filled with common thugs." He opened his mouth to protest, but she put her finger on his lips to silence him. "Not because it's your name, but because it was someone else's name before it was yours." She paused, trying to make sense of the thoughts chasing through her head. Her mind's eye flashed, some picture of a cyclinder bursting, with goo oozing everywhere. Jeseth, his master was in the picture, reaching to grasp at a man-sized shape.

Arya blinked, then stared at Turbogeek. He stared back.

"What I'm trying to say is... You look very similar to a dead Jedi Master, who went by the same name. Turbogeek. Perhaps you had amnesia when Jeseth found you, and didn't know your name... He calls you Turbogeek because that's who you look like?" Flash. Jeseth was pulling the shape out of the goo, cleaning around the mouth and nose of the thing. Arya reached for her ale.

She'd been thinking... perhaps... It was illegal, of course, under NR law to use spaarti cyclinders. The Clone Wars were never to be repeated. Those who do not remember the past, are destined to repeat it.

Turbogeek didn't remember his past, because he had no past to remember.

The woman took another swallow of her drink, and looked around the bottle at her companion. How much of her theories should she tell him? Weren't all clones doomed to become insane? Arya didn't want to be on the receiving end of a mad clone's rage.

[Darth Turbogeek]

Turbogeek heard her words and nearly dropped his fork in shock.

"Your telling me..... I have the same name as a Jedi Master and I look like him?"

He frowned deeply.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

She offered the bottle to him again, but he frowned and shook his head. Arya shrugged, and set it down again, smoothing her raggedly cut, chin length hair out of her eyes. If he was a clone, as she suspected, it would do neither of them any good to tell him he was. It would only lead to more confusion.

"Well, I'm not sure what it means, Turb. This Jedi Master, also named Turbogeek, disappeared around a year ago. There were reports he had died, but I really couldn't say for sure." The reports were so convincing, of course, that all bounties on the Jedi had been repealed. Arya had been positive he had actually died, until this Turbogeek had come along. "I couldn't really tell you much more." She shrugged, and picked up the bottle, staring sadly at the last of the ale before she drank it.

"As for people's reactions to you, I'd use them to your advantage. If people think you are the old Turbogeek, you already have an advantage over them. Think tactics, Turb." She smiled a little, thinking tactics herself. "It never hurts to have an ace in the hole in a tough situation."

And a clone of a Jedi Master would be a useful ally indeed. Arya pushed back the plate of fry, and stretched. "I think its time I slept."

[Darth Turbogeek]

Use them to my advantage? Turbogeek thought about this quietly as Arya excused herself to go to bed. He was still thinking about it as he heard her get undressed and then get into the single bed. Some small creaks sounded out as the bed accepted her weight, but he ignored them, being too deep in thought. Her suggestion, while new to him, was making a good deal of sense. He had seen how it had gotten him out of that fight today, maybe it could do more. But what exactly?

Maybe…. Maybe he should find out more. It was clear he wasn’t this Jedi Master to him, but it would never hurt to find out more. It may actually work.

There was a basic computer terminal on one of the desks. Turbogeek didn’t know a lot about computers except for the very basics Jeseth and Arya had shown him – really not much more than switching them on and learning the search functions. Computers certainly were useful for that, finding information fast. At times he used one to learn the things Jeseth glanced on, gathering information and reading it as fast as he could. Now, lets see…. He switched on and the terminal came up with the familiar Galactic Network screen that The Black Hand had sliced a connection into. Unpracticed fingers slowly typed out the command sequence for a search screen.

Search string? blinked the screen

Let’s try this connection out first. See what it had. He typed in a search for documents on Dark Jedi. In a few seconds, a menu of 20 directories appeared, somewhat smaller than what he could get at Vjun. Most were security locked here too. Okay…. He reset back to the initial search page

Search String?

He paused. While he was looking for something on this mysterious Jedi, how about he looked up on Arya? She never said anything about her past. He tapped in Ravenwing and was rewarded with 124 directories. He even saw the name Arya on one. His hand paused as he was about to select – and he reset instead. It’s didn’t seem right to be prying. Maybe she had reason not to say anything.

Search String?

He tapped in Jeseth Cloak instead. And to his surprise was rewarded with one directory. He selected and saw that the information was sparse and to him a shock. It listed Jeseth as a dead ex-Jedi Padawan! He froze, then rapidly reset guiltily. Had Jeseth been a Jedi?!?! Wow…. That would explain how he knew the Jedi were wrong in their views of the Force! He would bring this up when the time was right…

Search String?

He typed it in.

D-A-R-T-H T-U-R-B-O-G-E-E-K

A few seconds and the screen remained blank. A minute. Then…

No Files found

What? Nothing? He had gotten a result from Jeseth, so why not a Jedi Master? Surely there would be something, this just did not seem right at all. He tried again and still got the same result. Tried adding Jedi Master, tried deleteing words, tried anything he could think of. A hour later, he sat dejected as Arya snored slightly in the background. Nothing, absolutely nothing. This was just plainly wrong, how could a well known Jedi Master have exactly nothing in what was arguably the biggest public database? Not even an acknowledgement of his existence? He had to admit defeat for now, especially as his eyes were hurting.Turbogeek turned on his chair, thinking where he was going to sleep. Floor with the heater pointed at him sounded good as it was getting cold, possibly would be better even than Bast.

<font color=red>

Flash.

Sitting at a terminal, entering a code. Seeing text scroll. Hidden area that no one could access. Code on a piece of paper in front of him, clearly seen</font>

He blinked. What was THAT image about? It was the weirdest one he ever had. Oddly, it seemed to be worth a try especially that code he had seen and still could see. Firstly, he grabbed a graphite stick, grabbed a food wrapper, wrote the code down while he still could. Nearly two hundred symbols long, it meant nothing to him.

And worth a try.

Search String?

He didn’t know where to enter this code, so this seemed like a good point. Carefully inputting, making sure all the symbols were correct. Then pressed Enter.

One moment….

He waited as the cursor blinked. And waited. For five minutes. He was about to give up it ever working when to his surprise the graphics dissolved and went to text display only.

Please place thumb on red square

Puzzled, he watched as the square formed on the screen and with some hesitation, did as the text asked. The square vanished, tot replaced by a pause symbol – the n the screen changed again to an interface he had never seen the like of before. But it was almost like something he would do, everything was exactly what he would have wanted. Clearly labelled functions, ordered graphics, for him intuitive.

“what is this?” he muttered, utterly amazed.

Voice print analysis………. Complete. Good day Master Turbogeek, this is Central online. Last access 9 months, 5 days ago. Current location is noted as Arcan IV. Command?

“What the.…..” he whispered. What the frell was this?

I am not familiar with that command.

“What is this I am looking at?”

Central questions why you need to know

Okay think fast….. “I’ve had an accident and I don’t remember a lot of things. I might need some help with prompting”

Jedi Council file lists Darth Turbogeek as dead. Mistake?

He kept his voice quiet. “No, deliberate. Council wanted to keep cover while I recovered”

Noted. This is Central, the mainframe of the New Republic. This is a backdoor you placed in my circuits that safeguarded information you wanted kept. All other information about you has been deleted. Heuristics have noted your condition and have activated security protocol 6. Information you may access is read only and will only be generalised until further authentication is given. ActiveX viral code will allow you to access this backdoor from any terminal with protocol 21 only. Command?

He eye couldn’t get any wider. “Personal history display please”

Thank you. Initiating…

He saw the screen begin to scroll with data that he began to read

and read

And read.

Two hours later, he finally logged out after he downloaded the history files to a datapad. He was feeling exhausted and sandbagged, his eyes were red rimmed from squinting.

But more than that, was the feeling of unease. No wonder the Dark Jedi disliked the name. No wonder criminals fled. It just didn’t seem possible that one man could be like that. Maybe this was why he was alive, to redeem himself from the deeds of a Jedi, to become a Dark Jedi like Turbogeek was long ago before he made the mistake to become a Jedi according to what he had seen.

Maybe that is why he was as he was, to get a fresh start?

He got ready for sleep, but even then he took a long time before resting. Too many thoughts flowed through his mind, too many ideas, too many possibilities.

But no matter how wild his suppositions got before he fell into sleep, he didn’t know the truth was far wilder.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

The footsteps echoed as he got back to his rooms, the corridor silent except for his footfalls. While his personal star fighter was being prepped, Tohmahawk had decided to go back and gather up a few things he would need. Namely a few more weapons and some combat armour. This mission, while covert, would require some considerable firepower and he had some firepower. He hit the key lock release, entered and moved immediately over to his locker. His cat leaped off the bed where it had been curled up, meowing and demanding attention. Tohmahawk stopped to pat it, before returning his attention to the locker. It took a few moments to disable all the locks, then to open. As before, there was a formidable array of handguns, plus the shotgun. Not really knowing what could be required, he grabbed a soft form duffle bag and began to place the guns in it, plus plenty of ammunition. He stored more ammo on his ship but anyway by habit the guns were kept fully loaded. With each device he packed, he unloaded, checked the firing mechanisms then reloaded.

All weapons were beautifully maintained, oiled and clean. Tohmahawk was a hand gun fanatic and a collector, in other places he had rooms of various guns on display. Some ancient, some truly modern, all effective. It was on a foray to find a pistol he had discovered the rail guns. He knew about projectile guns, but up to then he had dismissed them as worthless compared to a blaster. Not now. He in fact now preferred projectile guns now and the rail guns most of all and had shown their effectiveness to the point where the entire NRSF were moving to them and ditching blaster carbines. The only thing a blaster had over a guass or rail was ammunition load. Considering that a rail gun had been shown to be able to blow a hole in hull plate, be far more accurate plus with explosive rounds have the same effect as a grenade launcher – it was like having a 20 shot rocket launcher. Even personal shields could be fired through due to the sheer impart energy would cause a shield to fail.

Man these guns were good. Too big for a conceal carry tho, but that didn’t matter. Build your alias well enough and anyone would accept the weaponry as par for the course – and he had an alias to beat them all. He also had the id cards in the locker, which could be changed with a simple code click. The fake id would pass any inspection and anyway he was getting quite well known as it. Made it easy now to hide the deception.

He finished packing, closing the bag and then spent a few minutes feeding the cat. It purred contentedly as it ate, Tohmahawk patting it as it did. It was a curiously gentle gesture from a man known for his harsh actions and venomous mouth. It would have raised more than a few eyebrows, might have even indicated Tohmahawk had a softer side. But no one would have believed it for a second. Rough hands continued to stroke the soft hair for another minute, then he stood up. Time to go. Picking up bag, with it’s straps groaning as the weight shifted, he was about to leave when he paused.

And looked back at the weapons locker.

Something in him spoke. Something he truly hated. He hated the voice that would speak and make the suggestions he could not ignore, he hated it bitterly.

No.

Yes, you will. You will need them

No. There is nothing I need to do that requires THAT.

You know quite well there is. Stop deluding yourself and take them with you.

I don’t need them and I don’t need you either. Get away from me.

I can’t and you know it. Now go back and take up with is in the locker. The future says you will need them.

I refuse. I will not walk that path again.

You refuse, you know you will die.

Good! That will mean this hell will be over! It will be over!

The inner voice fell silent as if admitting defeat. Tohmahawk sneered at himself, then swung the door open and then exiting, slamming the door shut behind him. The cat looked up, then back down to it’s food. It didn’t pause eating as the door opened and Tohmahawk stormed back in. He marched over to the locker, slammed it open and then with a fair bit of anger snatched up the bundle, leaving the locker empty.

“I swear, I’m going to throw these ******* things out one day and leave it all behind me. I’ll take my cat and find some shithole planet and disappear like I should have. And that will be the end. Yeah, just you and me on some desert island. How would you like that, living where all you had to do was eat and sleep?” He looked down at the cat. “That’s right, that all you do now you little @#%$. Rightio Stig, your staying here till I come back. And I swear, when I leave again we’re leaving it all and this thing…” He looked at the bundle “I’ll send a one way shuttle with these things in them straight into the Maw”

Maybe then the voice would shut up.

Tohmahawk re-exited, leaving the door open. There was nothing in the room important and it would give the cat the run of the ship. He tied the bundle to the side of his bag, picked the bag up again, then began the journey to the hangar where his ship was.

30 minutes later, he stepped off the turbo lift in the smallish maintenance hangar bay, where some older shuttles were kept – plus one highly unusual star craft, one that was unique in the New Republic, but common on the Unknown Regions planet that Tohmahawk came from. Unusually big for a fighter, it was winged and painted black. The Holden FireFox V8, developed initially as an atmospheric fighter was one of the pinnacles of TerraAustralias star craft design and even was more advanced than the regular star craft of the Republic. Cutting edge motors, armour and weapons, packaged and designed into one effective machine. He began a circle of the ship, looking over the details and the signs of the maintenance work that had been carried out. Excellent. Smokey, the head mechanic looked like he had done his normal exemplary job.

He saw that Jyanis wasn’t here yet and neither was the Lone Wolves with Commander West. Well, Scorpion was most likely giving final orders to the fleet and West’s team would take more time to assemble, although it didn’t matter as Scorpion and Tohmahawk were going to be separate to the Wolves. The General could see another ship was being prepped, a unremarkable freighter. Unremarkable for the trained eye even, but certainly not unremarkable given it’s purpose built design for covert operations like this one. The Wolves were going to do some demolition work, while Tohmahawk and Scorpion were going to be somewhat more quiet.

Whichever way was best, they had 96 hours after they arrived to find out the truth on Arcan IV, before the NRSF fleet would come and all hell would break loose. Probably all hell would break loose anyway. At least it would be a directed show of force if they found out anything useful.

If these ships really had defected, what would they do when they saw the MC-200 and the Argus battle station arrive with its support fleet? Run? Fight? One thing he did know for sure. The NRSF was unknown to the greater Galaxy so far but it seemed that was all about to change. What a way to say hello.

I wonder what Scorpion will come up with? Entrapment seemed like a good idea if these destroyers are there, arrive with the Interdictors and stop them jumping, hit them with the ion Cannon and disable them all. That would work, especially given the Defender had 6 KDY-150 Planet defender Super Cannon – if the damn things work. One shot of those things would take out a Destroyer as effectively as a Super Laser could. And they didn’t require the massive energy either.

He waited by the ship, which he had dubbed Razor, for Scorpion and West with his team to show up.

[Nathan W3st]

"Final checks!" West barked. He always got antsy before hitting a hotzone. Dropping his own pack along with the troups, he arrayed his other equipment in a neat circle around it.

Three feet of gauss driven, semi-automatic sniper rifle. Ten ten round clips. Four thirteen round clips for his Siggaphen P45 gauss handgun. One standard issue NR blaster, with recharge pack. Six packs of thermite shaped charges. Six flashgrenades. Helmet, complete with night vision (looked rather like much thicker wraparound sunglasses), integrated rangerfinder, compass, radio, and even a very mild countermeasures package. Weight - eleven kilos, sans pack. Pack was another 5.5 kilos.

Similar equipment was neatly arrayed on the floor. Except on one occasion, West's sniper rifle was substituted for gauss assault rifles, capable of empting a clip in two seconds, but at some cost to muzzle velocity. Nathan finished inspecting his own gear, and walked past the other thirteen packs arrayed on the floor.

"Gear on. We drop in ten."

"But sir, thats not enough time for a quickie."

"For you, Yvettez, I've heard it is."

The broadly built Johan Yvettez, but a pretty boy above the shoulders, skrunched his face up a bit. "Shorty" Topsten elbowed him jokingly in the ribs, and everyone roared in laughter.

A minute passed, and Nathan cleared his throat. There was a flurry of movement, and suddenly, all of the Lone Wolves were combat ready.

"Everyone, hangar!" All of them ran like like hell, feet hitting whenever they needed to, but somehow maintaining a neat single-file line.

They ran past Tohmahwahawk, who silently observed the clamour.

"HALT!" The line could have stopped on a pinpoint.

"SAaa-LUTE!" Hands slapped sides, and the line turned at attention, and neatly saluted.

"The Wolves are ready for drop. Any final changes, Sir?

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya rolled over in the king sized bed, and settled down to go to sleep again, pulling the covers to her chin. Then her eyes opened more than a slit, and she made out the dim shape on the floor by the wall vent. She closed her eyes, willing her conscience to allow her to sleep, but the blue eyes popped open again.

The woman lay there for a moment, her limbs becoming conscious of the bed plumped around her, and of how comfortable she was at the moment. Her eyes drooped, lashes brushing her face as she held back a groan and sat up. Quietly she threw back the covers and slid her legs off the side of the bed, cool air tickling her bare toes.

The console wasn't completely shut down, so she could tell that Turb had been messing with it. Arya hoped that he hadn't changed anything that she had wired into it, but a closer inspection revealed that nothing had changed. She sat in the chair, her nightshirt brushing her thighs as she brought up the security cameras. All is quiet. Everyone was asleep, as she should be.

Turbogeek was having no problems sleeping, even on the floor. Although, the floor here was probably softer than the bed he had at Bast. Arya turned, and was about to get up from the chair, when her eye caught something written on a discarded food wrapper. She pressed it out flat, slowly and carefully. A string of hundreds of numbers and symbols was written on the greasy paper... a few were already rubbed off, leaving only smudges behind.

She frowned, and then checked the computer again. He'd been running searches on the Galactic Network. The drop down list showed the apprentice's curiosity. Dark Jedi, Jeseth Cloak, Arya Ravenwing- He'd run a search on her?

Arya reloaded the search, and got 124 directories. Most were historical items, legends and myths about ravens, and other such nonsense. Only one matched one hundred percent, an old news holo reporting the death of a smuggler at the hands of the law. She sat back, reading the text only screen... and then exited the search, eyes burningly dry. The story had been run on Aaron's death, her name had only been mentioned in passing, as the 'one that got away.'

If only I had died there, with him. She bit a fingernail, and then hurriedly checked the other searches. There had been several run on the name Darth Turbogeek. Arya looked at the figure curled up on the floor. I hope you found what you were looking for.

Returning to the bed, she pulled a blanket off it, and padded softly out to the sleeping man. Arya gently laid the blanket on top of him, and then laid back in her bed, and tried to go to sleep.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk looked over the assembled squad.

“Three words for your squad Commander. Absolute Bad Ass. There is only one addition to your orders, act in a manner that gives us the option of a full invasion. Other than that….” The General grinned “I expect to see the usual level of Lone Wolves fireworks. General Scorpion and I will be observing the response as well as doing our own digging. Good luck Commander”

Tohmahawk saluted West and the squad. Now where the hell was Jyanis?

[Darth Turbogeek]

Turbogeek awoke suddenly, feeling himself almost too warm. Daylight could be seen in the tiny gaps of the curtain. Possibly still early, although given Bast didn’t really have sunlight, it was hard to say.

But what was harder to work out was why was there a blanket on him? He didn’t remember getting one before sleeping. Turbogeek glanced at the direction of the bed, to where it sounded like Arya was still asleep. Had she….? That was most unlike her if it was. She was tough and hard and it was hard to imagine a softer side to the woman.

But the gesture is still appreciated. I wonder why she did it?

He checked a chrono on the wall, decided it was time to get up and find something in here edible. As per normal. He did the cooking with Jeseth and also Arya. Went with the territory of being a learner from both of them

[Jyanis Scorpion]

He entered the hangar carrying more things than a rancor could eat. His usual rail gun hung at his side. On the other hip hung an BlasTech A280 Armor Piercing Blaster. On each shin he had a long hunting knife strapped down. Around his waist were various ammo clips, thermal detonators, gas canisters and grenades. On his chest there was more ammunition. But what really clacked together when he walked was all the rifles slung over his shoulders. A Hunter V Blaster Carbine, a DLT-19 Heavy Assault Rifle, a Firestorm 1 Mini Missile Launcher, and the lightweight XX-9 Blaster Rifle from the days of the Rogue Sith Order. And last, in his hands he carried a moderately sized crate with even more ammo.

He walked up to Tohmahawk with possibly a bigger grin on his face than ever before.

"Sorry I'm late, but there were last minute details and... I thought I'd help myself to your main weapons locker. Lots of fun stuff in there. Anyway..."

He slid the crate under his left arm and started to fish around in his right vest pocket for his ID card.

"I had to update my ID for the circumstances pretty quick. Best on short notice is the occupation of ex-pirate mechanic. Explains the 'lasertorch' and the weapon. Tredd Rotra. Give me two minutes and I'll turn myself into an Omwati."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya cracked her eyes open, and saw a dim light on in the room. When she opened them fully her lashes brushed against the covers which were over her face. She pulled them down, and was momentarily blinded by a shaft of sunlight that was shining in the window. In defense she pulled the covers up again, letting her eyes adjust to the room.

The woman rubbed the sleep from her eyes, and sat up slowly, allowing her body to wake up. Her legs were so comfortable she could barely feel them anymore. Reluctantly she slid them out of the bed, and wriggled her bare feet on the carpet. It was early enough that she could have justified rolling back into bed and sleeping another hour...but Arya had things to do.

As she looked towards the far wall, she saw the blanket folded neatly on a chair. Of Turbogeek there was no sign. Arya sighed. He had better not get into trouble. He was probably out getting breakfast. She stood, stretched, and headed for the shower to freshen up. Hunter would be contacting her today. She had seen it in her sleep, and her visions had never steered her wrong before.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk was quite impressed. With Scorpions’s love of guns and lots of them, they could almost be related. And his taste in them was quite damn good too.

“You can do your change onboard. I’m keen to get out of here quickly”

The General moved to under the Razor, touching the code to unlock and lover the ramp. “Don’t worry, I’ve got more toys in the locker onboard. You’ll love the new experimental rifle – it’s a rail type, with belt feed ammo bin and twin side mount genade launchers. Even more fun is the multi barrel rotating full auto we are calling a mini gun. Fires 200 projectiles in a minute, 2000 round ammo bin. Heavy sucker, but it can rip a city block apart with explosive rounds. You really have to see it, it’s just plain cool. Alright, lets get the hell out of here.”

[Darth Turbogeek]

He came back into the room with a few food containers from the Soup Nazi, crossed to the table and placed the containers down, opening them to reveal some hot food stuffs and also some fruit. Plus something the Nazi called coffee, a rather dark and odd smelling beverage.

Turbogeek could hear the shower running, which explained where Arya was. Taking out a knife, he allowed it to virtually dance and spin around his hand, as he did as a training exercise in control of the blade. Ending the minute long series if twirls and twists, the blade was spun up, to balance delically on the tip of his index finger. A quick twist of the wrist, the handle was palmed, the blade swiped into a fruit, spearing it nicely. In the background, he could hear the shower beging turned off and a momenet later, the precise and measured steps he had learned were Arya’s as she came to the table.

“Morning. I got some breakfast… and by the way, Thank you”

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion walked up the ramp behind Tohmahawk, dragging the rifles with him.

"Really, two hundred rounds per minute? Damn, I want that for Life Day."

He pulled the last of his gear into the ship as the ramp raised up into the hull, then set it all down onto the metal floor. Tohmahawk sat himself down in the pilot seat and let his fingers dance across the console. Scorpion sat behind him in the co-pilot seat, now only carrying the ammo clips and the knives attached to him, along with his rail gun and lightstaff.

He smirked, "Oh great, I get to stare at your ass the whole trip." He reached into his pocket and took out a small case with face paint, hair dye, and colored contact lenses.

Tohmahawk chuckled, "You always carry a makeup kit with you?"

Scorpion looked up from the case thoughtfully, "Not this time I'm afraid. I got this one off your dresser."

He carefully applied brown contact lenses and used blue paint to cover up the few scars on his face. There was a light whirr from the engines as Tohmahawk lifted the Razor off the hangar floor and forward through the magcon field. Scorpion was now in the midst of carefully combing in brown hair dye to cover up his silver hair.

After he finished and reached over Tohmahawk's shoulder with the comb in hand and laughed, "Want me to touch up those greys for you?"

The only response he got was a mild laugh and a head shake. He put the kit away and leaned back in the chair to watch the space dust float by.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya was brushing out her hair as she walked out of the refresher. Sonic showers were all well and good, but sometimes she missed the feeling of water on her body. It was probably just psychological, but she never quite felt clean without it. One of the white robes the Embassy Suites offered with the room was tied tightly around her.

Turbogeek's greeting and thanks embarrassed her. She sat, hiding her face as her hair swung, and picked up one of the peaches on the table. Arya pulled out the knife, twirled it in her fingers, and lightly tossed it back to Turb. "G'morning to you too. And, no problem." She reached for the containers as he sat as well, and they had breakfast together in silence.

Arya wiped peach juice off her mouth with her hand, and licked her fingers. "That was good." She stood, going to her bag to find her clothes for the day. In a city like this, the best way to blend in was to be either scummy or outrageous. She tucked her hair behind her ears. I'm tired of being scum, and yet, I don't do outrageous very well. Glancing back at Turb, she grinned. He did scum quite well, what with all that hair. But for now, she concentrated of getting herself presentable for Arcan IV.

Twenty minutes later she swept out of the 'fresher, and Turb gaped at her. Her long legs were encased in lime green, reptilian skin pants, and a loose fitted white blouse was just thin enough to tease the male imagination. That, and the fact that it was unbuttoned a far ways south, drew a lot of attention from her face.

She had thought of that, however, and her face was made up, nearly to the point that she was unrecognizable. At least, unrecognizable as Arya, the small-time smuggler. In her place stood a woman who was undeniably feminine, and incredibly beautiful. Her eyes were lined with black, and her lips were a pouty red. Arya smiled at Turb, and sat to pull on her boots.

"What...Arya..?" He frowned a little.

"Don't worry. I'm just tired of being dirty." She stood, and walked to him, reaching up towards his face. He jerked back, and she laughed. "Relax, I'm just trying to do something with your wild hair. Its enough to scare the Sand People into surrender."

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk’s hands danced over the console, directing his fighter/freighter out through the maglock, getting some distance between him and the Defender, before turning his head to speak to Scorpion, mildy amused by the makeup and the changes it gave Scorpion.

“Yep, you look like a cheap man whore. Grab hold of your seat pretty boy…. Yavin is going bye-bye”. Tohmahawk smirked at the man whore jibe – it was something one of the women who knew Jyanis affectionally called the blue skinned alien. Scorpion replied with a rude gesture.

His hand reached out, touched the control to bring the sub lights out of warmup sequence. A bbbbrrrrrt and then a low rumble announced their ignition and the re was some feeling of acceleration. Tohmahawk keyed the grav plates to his preferred 2G of his home planet. The delicious feel of what he called full gravity came back. His hand moved again, grabbed the slider for the throttle and slammed it wide open. The motors screamed in protest, spun up and began to bellow. The Razor seemed to pause then absolutely spring forward with all the violence of a projectile being fired from a cannon. Practiced hands turned the control yoke and pointed the ship out of the Gravity well, the nav comp programmed and course loaded. He heard Scorpion swear, most likely at the effects the increased gravity were having combined with the ferocious acceleration.

“Your seriously telling me that your race lives on a planet with this gravity?!?” asked Jyanis.

“What?? It will do you good. Toughen you up. Besides, you should visit my home in summer. Makes Tatooine feel like a deep freeze”

“Home? You mean there’s somewhere that hasn’t kicked you out?”

It was Tohmahawk’s turn to make a rude gesture. “Not yet. I bet they would take one look at you and force you to drink a Fosters”

“That’s…. evil. Where is home for you anyway?”

“BondiBeach, NewSouthPlace, Outback in the TerraAustralias sector. It’s not the end of the Galaxy, but you can see it from there. Beer’s cold, sheila’s are hot and damn near every animal is carnivorous or poisonous. It’s in the UnKnown Regions. You should come for a visit, it’s a nice place. Take you to meet a mate of mine, Rancor Dundee. He wrestles rancors. Thick as a brick @#%$ house but a good bloke”

The alert light blinked, signifying they were ready to jump. “Hang on there…”

The Razor’s motors glowed fiercely and with a silent explosion, blasted into Hyperspace

[Lord Fire Blade]

I had broken into a room that was vacant, near where the woman and the apparent Jedi Master Turbogeek were staying and had waited out the night, sleeping for a while and generally making myself mentally fresh or the day to come. I occasionally thought of the past, of the man Turbogeek had been and also of the times I had encountered one of IIHQ operatives. I was trying to make sense of this, most likely IIHQ was behind this reappearence of a fake – why was not hard to think, but how was what was making me think. On a slightly closer examination, this Turbogeek was a remarkable and similar version of the original, so the mystery only deepened and I even began to doubt whether the real Jedi Master had died. There was one way to check and I was waiting my time.

Sometime not long after dawn as I was just awake and preparing for the day, I heard footsteps down the hall. I opened the door a bit and saw the back of the supposed Jedi, exiting. I thought that I would follow, but then realised his companion was not there. She might be still in the room and it would be better to wait. My intuition was correct, for not long later he came back, bearing what I presumed was breakfast.

I got an idea as I watched him go through the door to his room. Quickly I dressed into the armour, covered it with a long cloak and left my head exposed. I checked myself in the mirror – yes, just another human female with bad dress sense. I made sure my hair was mussed up, then waited a few more minutes, before picking up my Force Pike and hiding it under the cloak, then walking to the door. I made sure the corridor was clear, before moving over to the door he entered. I knocked and placed the most vapid and pathetically helpless expression on my face.

As I hoped he answered.

“Oh sir, could you help me please? The tap in my room seems to be seized and management wont come for a while. Would you help?” Even I was pleased. Perfect patheticness. And now being directly face to face with him, I could see the face. By the Force, it was stunningly similar. Maybe a few years younger.

“Well….. I don’t know. Arya, you mind… I wont be long!” I heard something said in return obviously she was the boss of this outfit. But she had said yes as he got a huge and stupid grin on his face. “Yeah sure! Where is your room?”

“This way and thank you!” I simpered.

I lead him to the door, opened it and stepped aside so he could enter first. I checked the corridor to make sure there was no one, then stepped inside behind him, closing the door quietly. He moved to the centre of the room, looking around with interest. “Where is it”? he asked

“Over there!” Was the reply. As he turned, I reached behind my back….

He never knew what hit him, as the pommel of the Force Pike crashed into his skull and knocked him out. I was quick enough to stop his fall making a loud noise, allowing him to drop to the floor gently, face first. The vapid expression gone, I was all business as I took out a vibroknife. There was a good way to discover who this man was… the real Turbogeek had obtained an incredibly bad back injury and there would be a mess of scars. I carefully used the knife to slice his clothes open and then pulled them apart……

Nothing. No scars, just smooth skin and muscle. Not a mark, not a blemish. But still utterly exact otherwise to the original…..

Original. The sneaking suspicion caught me and I roughly kicked him over to his back I looked at the face, really looked. Apart form the unkept hair and three day growth, soooooo similar…. Except for the scar on his eyebrow. I reached down and picked up his hand and rolled back the sleeve.

Yes. There it was, faint but it was there. A marker for an id scan used in medical facilities – or places where they made clones. I had the answer. If this was IIHQ’s work, it was a clone. But I did not remember any facility for such work and I certainly did not remember anyone gaining the tissue sample for this, nor the flash memories. I had a think. Not TSO and not RSO. GMA? Unlikely. That left only one – The Sith Empire. And they did indeed used to have cloning technologies. And even more so, they had a Sith Master who could well of tricked Turbogeek into being an unwitting accomplice. Lady Mara Jade had been wily and she had suspected in the end there was more than had been admitted between those two. But I knew was dead and so…. Was he. This was not Turbogeek I had known.

I stood and went over to where I had hid the helmet, placed it on. I gathered the rest of her belongings, then went back to where he was still lying. I shook my head – clones! And then gave the piece of meat a huge kick in the ribs. I kicked a few more times to make it look like a mugging, then turned away, exited the door and into the corridor. I walked out and as I did, I placed myself into the hood again, hiding the helmet, like my armour was hidden, the Pike in a concealed carry again. Well, that mystery was solved.

But a bigger one remained. Why. It would be worthwhile following and see what this woman and the clone were up to. I also thought I might try to make contact with Tondry. He might know me and I could discuss this with him.

Maybe. The only definite was the sense that I was on the fringes of something bog about to happen.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Stupid woman...makes the rest of us look bad. Arya hooked her commlink to her belt, and peered in the mirror again. And blinked. She barely recognized herself...and certainly Hunter would not know her until she made herself known. He'd be expecting a swaggering female smuggler, not a good looking woman.

Not that dressing up made her a different person. Arya tweaked an eyebrow, plucking a wayward hair. She had considered her options, and, while she desperately needed credits and soon, she still didn't trust Hunter. Although she couldn't imagine what purpose he might have in causing her more trouble, she wasn't going to borrow any from him.

Arya glanced at the chrono in the wall. What is taking him so long? He was such an innocent... hopefully he wasn't in there being seduced by some tourist. She waited for another five minutes, gathering up her gear for the day and stowing it in a shoulder bag. The room would go uncleaned again. Maids didn't mess with a Do Not Disturb sign, and so Arya tidied a little, sweeping crumbs from breakfast into the trash can, and throwing all the blankets back on the bed.

She checked her chrono again. Frell. Quickly she did a last minute check on the hardware she had wired into the hotel comm system, and tossed a blanket on top of it all on an impulse.

Arya threw her bag over her shoulder, and went into the hall, securely locking the door behind her, and reaching up to place the thin string in place once more. The red No Disturbances, Please sign blinked on the side panel. She walked down the hall, and then cursed softly as she rounded a corner.

A door stood open, and there was a foot sticking out into the hallway. Turb's foot. Arya ran to the door, and carefully peeked around the corner before entering. She placed her bag on the ground next to him, and knelt, checking his pulse. It was strong and steady, but he was unconscious. The woman rolled him onto his back, and grimaced at the bump on his forehead. There was a trickle of blood that had dried on his face, and his shirt was rumpled badly. Arya pulled up on the shirt, exposing some nasty bruises that were forming on his ribs. Boots...perhaps military issue... She quickly got to her feet and walked to the sink, easily turning the tap and running cold water into a complimentary mug.

Seized tap my ass. She walked back to Turb and splashed the water in his face. He groaned, and opened his eyes, and then closed them again. Arya knelt and gently slapped his face. "C'mon Turb, wake up."

He groaned again, and tried to sit up. She hooked an arm around him and helped him, wiping his bedraggled hair out of his face. "What happened?" He looked at Arya, "Where did she go?"

Arya gave him a look that made him shut up. "Looks like Princess 'My-faucet-is-broken' had some friends that tried to mug you. Lucky, or unlucky as the case may be, you don't have any money on you." She jerked her head towards her bag. "You left it in the room. I have it with me." She pulled at him, helping him to his feet. "We're going to have to get out of here for now, they might come back. Can you walk?"

[Darth Turbogeek]

The first he realised something was wrong was when he felt water splashing on him. The second was that he was on the floor. The thrid was the sudden burst of pain from the back of his head and his ribs. He dimly heard Arya ask what happened, he couldn't really reply as he hardly knew himself. He did hear her say he was mugged by a gang.

"No.... there was no one in the room. There was no one in the hall. The woman was behind me." He spat out some blood and groaned. Oh man, what had she done? Why did she do this? Also puzzling, as he struggled to get up was the fact his shirt appeared ripped open down the back.

"I feel like crap......" He fell back to the ground wiht a massive head spin.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya let him ease himself back onto the floor, and sighed, fingering the cut edges of his shirt. In fact, as she looked closer beyond his physical injuries, all of his clothes were sliced. She couldn't imagine how she hadn't noticed before. Usually her eyes caught every detail...they had to, her survival depended on details. Arya gasped as her mind's eye flared, and she glimsped a flash of red armor before the vision died and the eye was darkened again.

She reached into the 'fresher, and pulled a white robe off its hook and put it around Turbogeek to cover his body. "C'mon, lets get back to our room, and get you some more clothes." Arya threw her bag over her shoulder, positioned herself under his arm, and supported most of his weight as they shuffled down the hallway. "If it's any consolation, you look like crap too." She leaned against the wall, fiddling for the door lock as his weight pushed down on her.

The door slid open, breaking the string, and the pair sort of fell inside. Arya tossed the bag on the floor, and half walked, half dragged Turbogeek to the bed. She released her hold on him, and sighed as she dropped to a chair by the bed. "How did you know there wasn't anyone else in the room? There might have been someone in the closet?" She didn't wait for his answer, but continued on, "I think we should wait here for today. I'm expecting a communication soon, but I'll just wait here, until you feel up to getting around."

[Darth Turbogeek]

His chest flared in pain as he slumped on the bed. This felt like the after effects of a sparring session, except much worse. A hand explored the back of his head and found a lump developing there already. “There…was no one else. The room was empty and there was no-one in the hall. It was the woman.” Now he was remembering in details, he was piecing this altogether. He spoke in a flat voice with little emotion. “I think she must have had a weapon in the cloak hidden and I don’t think this was random”

He paused to think.

“I was researching last night after you went to bed. I found out about Darth Turbogeek and I found out he had a lot of enemies. I know he’s supposed to be dead…. Killed by a… Farce Monter Humper? No, Force Master Hunter, but what if some one here thinks Turbogeek is alive and came after me as a warning?” He groaned. “No I don’t think that makes sense. Agh, I don’t understand”

A call beep went off from the comm. Unit Arya carried, signifying a message had been sent to her ship and was waiting.

[Arya Ravenwing]

The commlink on her belt beeped, and Arya excused herself to the far side of the room. She looked back at Turbogeek, and then down at the comm in her hand...and walked into the 'fresher and closed the door.

For some reason she hadn't thought of it before...but Hunter was the one who had been rumored to have killed the Jedi Darth Turbogeek. Apparently Turb had uncovered information that confirmed the rumors. Her mind raced even as she retrieved the message and played it back.

It was simple enough...she was to meet Hunter at the Crouching Tiger Inn at dusk. Arya erased the message, and replaced the commlink on her belt. She put the lid down on the john and sat for a moment, collecting her thoughts. Point one: Hunter killed the original Turbogeek. Point two: Either an amazingly good look-a-like or a clone of the Jedi Master was recuperating from a bashed cranium in the adjacent room. Point Three: Hunter hired Arya to gain the Black Hand's trust.

Point Four: The new Turbogeek was from TBH. Arya rubbed her temples and pushed her thoughts onward towards point five. Which was, of course, that perhaps what Hunter was after was not a group of Dark Jedi...but maybe he was after Turb.

Of course, if he was, he wouldn't have bothered with Arya at all, and would have gone in and shot up that creepy Bast castle and all of its freaky residents. Or, at least, the clone.

Arya felt a headache coming on, and she groaned. However, point six, if Hunter didn't know that Turb was associated with TBH, and in fact didn't know of his existence at all, she might have the upper hand in her dealings with him. Arya didn't like feeling that someone had her dangling on the end of their rope... befriending Turb just may have given her some slack to play with.

She stood, and looked in the mirror. "Point seven, imagined or not, to keep this upper hand, I have to keep Turb away from the Crouching Tiger tonight." Thankfully, his injuries might make that easier than she hoped. Yet again, there was the woman who had knocked him out...another wild card in this game of sabacc...

The 'fresher door slid open, and she stepped out. "I was wondering, Turb, did you recognize that woman at all? Is there any reason you know of that she might attack you, or try to attack him? And I have a dinner date tonight, are you going to be okay here alone for a few hours?" She sat on the edge of the bed lightly.

[Darth Turbogeek]

"Funny you should... ow.... ask. Something in the back of my head says I do, but I know I never have"

He dug into his mind and for the first time, tried to will one of these flashes he got into being. Who was she...?

He concentrated harder and harder, pushing harder and harder for what he wanted...

<font color=red>

A red cloaked armour clad being. Had a stick like weapon, coming through a hail of destruction it had set off </font>

"I think..... she's usually in red armour. Has a long thin weapon. Helmet with a single slot, red cape. Guard of some sort" He said, furrowing his brow as he recited what the flash gave him. "And I dont care where your knowing, I just want to ... lie down.... ouch."

He closed his eyes and wished the headache would go.

"You know her, but you didnt know what she looked like"

[Arya Ravenwing]

She rubbed her temples as well. "It sounds like you're describing the old Royal Guard of the Emperor...but there aren't any of them left. And certainly no women among their ranks." He's taken a harder hit than I thought. Although, clones are supposed to be insane, right? Arya smiled to herself. He wasn't crazy, but he sounded a little off.

"And I really don't think I knew her." She winked, although the humor was lost on the wincing Turbogeek. "Not my type." Arya sighed, and pushed herself off the bed. "I'm not going out for hours, yet, its still only eleven in the morning." She glanced at the chrono. "Alright, its noon. But who's counting? Why don't you try and sleep, I'll just be across the room."

Arya walked to the comm terminal, and slouched into the chair. Baby-sitting really wasn't her thing, but if the woman was ...well, it was to preposterous for her to be ex-Royal guard. She glanced back at the man on the bed. Frelling mess I've gotten into. He was so childlike, she felt responsible for bringing him here.

And she couldn't exactly gain TBH's trust if she got one of their apprentices' killed, now could she?

[Nathan W3st]

For a change of pace, intel's data on something had been fairly accurate.

Arcan IV was an absolute dump. The capital was an older city, and to an untrained eye, it was pretty obvious there were several physical layers to the place.

Decoration committe should be fired. West figured as he gave the smoke stained buildings around him a glance. They had landed about four kilks from the objective, the fort known locally as the Governor's mansion. Air traffic had been adamant about keeping a good square kilometer of airspace around it free. Actually, adamant was sort of inaquate.

"Do not fly into that airspace or you will be shot down." Such friendly folk.

West looked around again, and helped the other Wolves heft the steel tracked door to the warehouse open. Expertly, the pilot nudged the modified freighter in.

"Thin roof. Good."

A short search later, an old porclean ( Porclean! Intel wasn't joking about the place being old) head was found, a few charges planted, and a KaBoom later, the Lone Wolves had dropped into Arcan IV's sewer system, with some complaint.

"IT FRELLIN STINKS!"

"Course it does. Its a sewer, dumbass."

[Pierce Tondry]

"What's the defensive plan, gentlemen?" Pierce asked Admiral Jeger and General Olar after they had taken their places in the Mansion's Tactical Center. There were other officers present, but none of them would speak unless Olar or Jeger gave them the nod. Pierce was half certain that at least two of those men were wanted criminals outside of this sector, but that was beside the point.

"Not well defined, I'm afraid," Olar replied, just as Jeger was opening his mouth. "Our forces are far too scattered to operate with any clear avenues of defense or attack. Nearly eighty percent of our troops have been dedicated to keeping the current system under tight security so it will stay running."

The current system was the one of unit rotation that was putting Desmond's loyalist forces on the stolen sector fleet. Ostensibly, the fleet had an important mission to perform, and it was being given an expert crew that was specially trained to perform that mission. In reality, the best and brightest of Desmond's forces were being brought aboard the ships first so they could absorb everything they could learn about the running of the fleet from its natural commanders before those commanders were pulled and replaced.

It was pure genius, but only Imperial Intelligence could have created the false trail necessary to make it work. And only Pierce Tondry could have implemented it as seamlessly as it had been.

Which was not to say there were no rough edges. The real NR forces were not thrilled about working with Arcan IV's second-class units, but they put up with it because every verification attempt they had made came up positive- another Intel job. Still, there were suspicions and divisiveness between the two militaries.

In addition, Desmond's forces did not often like working with each other. As a case in point, Admiral Jeger was staring at General Olar with intense dislike.

"Your troop situation is far less important than the status of the fleet," Jeger stated coldly. "Your troops would cease to exist of the NR started firing on those posts without warning."

Pierce made a thoughtful noise in the back of his throat, which drew Olar's attention away from whatever reply he'd intended to make. "The forces on those ships aren't strong enough to seize control yet?"

Both men shook their heads. "My troops are still needed to keep the Republic's units under lockdown until they can be shipped out," Olar's fingers stroked his the gray hairs of his mustache. "The first wave has already been deported to our drop location, but the second wave is still in mid-transfer. Needless to say, the third and final wave has not yet begun."

No, there were rough edges. But for some reason, everybody respected Pierce, from cold, cruel Admiral Jeger to informed, clever Olar. Because of that respect, they were all willing to coalesce around him to hurt the New Republic as much as they possibly could.

If only personal gain didn't taint everything these people did.

Pierce's lips pursed. "Then it seems to me our objective is clear."

Every face around the table was one of puzzlement.

Pierce leaned forward and activated a tactical holo. "Our entire operation is based on appearances. The Governor is the one putting the public face on everything we're doing. If that face dissolves, we're all screwed and we get nailed with public disfavor from all points. Put extra security around the governor and take more time to shift units in and out. Make absolutely certain you've done everything you could to train the people you're switching in. Run double simulator shifts if you have to. The transfer problem will take care of itself, if given time. The Governor will give us that time."

Olar and Jeger, however, did not appear to be persuaded, by Pierce's speech and Pierce knew it. "But you gentlemen want some concrete moves to make that gain visible territory?" he stated their concerns aloud.

Olar was the speaker again. "It might assist with the front you wish to create."

Pierce made three jabs at the hologram. "Here, here, and here are key weak points in your defenses of the capital. They're slums, and low traveled so anyone could sneak through them- I was in one of them today, so I know. Set up a police raid to clear them out, and reinforce them with elite units from your own ranks."

Olar nodded and gestured to a subordinate. "Take notes, Tennesay."

"Also," Pierce continued. "Your nearest two bases are set up to defend the capital from outside forces. Clear Route 210 for quick military transport to the mansion."

"Jeger." The Admiral sat up. "I'll go over the exact logistics with you later, but rotate some units around from ship to ship so that you have some ships mostly under control. Put some of the possible converts on crew of a lesser ship."

"Which ship?" Jeger asked. "If you give them too weak a ship to crew, they will balk. I don't expect you to understand, but to a pilot a lesser assignment is equivalent to a demotion."

"I do understand," Pierce countered. "Which is why the ship in question should be a VicStar III. Advanced enough to satisfy even a Super Star Destroyer crewman, small enough to considerably lower their threat value. That way, you can assess them at your leisure- from gunpoint if necessary."

Jeger nodded his satisfaction, his thin and sallow face smiling with approval. "Are you getting this, Unfrey?" he snapped to a nearby Major. The Major in question responded by bending over and scribbling diligently on a notepad, although Pierce caught a hint of suppressed resentment around Unfrey's eyes.

Despite Pierce's efforts, things were still fractious. The delecate balance that existed only needed a fragile ray of truth to destroy the illusions that had been supporting it.

Thinking about the man he was supporting, Pierce wondered if that might not be such a bad thing.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion had his feet propped up on an unused shelf, a knife in one hand and a sharpening tool in the other. Occasionally a few sparks would fly, but he was working at a leisurely pace.

He looked up from his weapon and spoke, "So, uh, we will probably blow something up right?"

Tohmahawk laughed, "Why do you think we brought so much?"

Scorpion smiled and started to sharpen the tip of the blade when the large red square on the console started to blink and the starlines faded away. There before them was Arcan IV.

He set his feet back down on the floor, "Wow, I can smell it from here."

Tohmahawk's fingers began to punch buttons rapidly, "@#%$! Star Destroyer to port!"

"Who's is it?"

"I dunno, but... Yeah, yeah, it's one of the defectors. Just as I thought."

Scorpion stood up behind Tohmahawk, "Arcan IV looks pretty good right now."

"That's where I'm headed, Scorp."

The Razor swooped down and hard to starboard, curving around and headed on an indirect course to the planet. It skimmed the atmosphere before dropping like a rock on a heavy G environment. Luckily the Star Destroyer didn't seem to notice their quick entrance and stayed where it was.

Annoying static filled the cockpit.

"Unidentified craft, please state your name and business."

Tohmahawk leaned forward and held a finger on the com button, calmly transmitting his 'special' ID, "There is no need for that."

"No, no need at all. Please proceed to docking platform 2303."

===

The Razor settled gently onto the crude platform. It was elevated above the streets, and had a patched up link fence around the perimeter. Scorpion and Tohmahawk both looked at eachother with the same look on there faces. They had seen better.

Scorpion put his knife into left shoulder holster, "So what do we take?"

[Captain Tohmahawk]

"Take anything you think you can use to blow the carp out of anything that gets in our way"

In a few minutes later, they were both outside

Ever since seeing the Star Destroyer, identifiable as one of the suspected defecting ship,s he had been deep in thought. How would they go about this? He hadn't been expecting the ships to actually be here and seeming that at least one was, there was most likely more, or even all of them on the other side of the planet. He placed the sunglasses on his face and settled the harness that kept in place the multitude of weapons he carried in this identity. A black duster covered most of them, but there was enough peeking to let others know he carried a hell of a lot of hardware.

"Well, local time is past noon, so we have a few hours to poke around. West should have landed already and wont be doing what he's going to do for a while. I think we'll see what type of fireworks they come up iwth and them atch the response. If I was to guess, this is a high level mutiny and the crewers dont know what's going on, even some midranks. So.... they would have to get rid of the crews or palcitate them. I would expect the reaction to West's plan will tell us much"

"Get rid of the crews?"

"Yeah. Either a deport or......." He left that option without saying. Surely no one was ruthless enough to kill the crews of 22 destroyers. "Well, whatever the case, they will be light on for security on the planet. I would be placing my resources in the ships"

"And what if it's innocent and the cruisers are just here and not defected?"

"We'll see, but I dont think so. Allright... I have a few smuggler contacts I can touch base with first and get information. Then we'll head over to the Crouching Tiger. Okay, lets get to it, we dont have a lot of time"

Both men moved off. On Tohmahawk's back was strapped the bundle he didn't want in the first place.

[Gurney Devries]

"- You want some?"

A sort of dazed look crossing Gurney's face, he turned to look over his right shoulder at the man standing next to him. He made a half-grunt that carried a questioning tone in response.

"I said, 'I'm going downstairs to pick up some grub, do you want some'. Geeze, you really are focused on that thing, aren't you? That must have been one hot broad for you to get this obsessed over it."

Gurney's face darkened at that remark, an expression not entirely lost on his partner, now that his hood was down. Without looking away, he slammed the lid of the carry-all closed and shoved it roughly aside.

"You know me a little better than that, Xellos. I'm not one of those guys that goes ga-ga over every member of the opposite sex that talks to him. You of al-"

"Yeah, yeah... I know. It was a joke, ok? Man, you've really been on edge as of late."

The robed man turned away then, a hint of shame touching his features. Unthinkingly, he began to chew on his lower lip. Yes, he had been on edge lately, and he didn't know what was causing it. He'd like to blame it on that strange woman that had unnerved him back at the bar and grill, but that had only added to something that was already there. There was a general unease that had been permeating his feelings for the past month, making him wholly less than amiable. And now that he knew how to get in touch with the Force, it was like he had opened the door to a whole new world of emotions and thoughts. Not only his own, but the surface feelings of people around him. It was actually quite disturbing, and begged the question: 'Now that I can hear what other people are thinking, how do I make them shut up?'

"I'm going to lay down for a while," Gurney said quietly, making his way over to the next room.

Xellos threw back his head, his tone of voice sounding somewhat annoyed. "Did you say you wanted some grub or not?", he asked.

"Uh.... yeah, sure. Grab me something. Doesn't matter what, so long as it has the right ingredients. If you catch my drift."

"Yeah, 'course I do. I know you're eating habits well enough by now. I'll be back in a couple of minutes, alright? Then, I want to talk to you."

Now in the adjoining room, Gurney called out: "What about?"

But the door to their shared room had already closed, and Xellos was already making his way down to the lobby of the hotel. With a name like 'Crouching Tiger', Gurney had half expected the place to be some cheap tourist hot-spot, trying to milk as many credits out of him as they could. And, to be fair, it was a pretty good assesment. But the rooms were nice and cozy, food was readily available, and the Adult Holo-Channels were free. So neither he nor Xellos were complaining. Laying down on the sparsely cushioned bed, he closed his eyes and began to silently meditate while waiting for the food to arrive.

[Darth Turbogeek]

He could only agree that sleep was a good thing. His head hurt badly and he was feeling used and abused. Turbogeek closed his eyes, willing that the headache would be gone when he woke up. His eyes closed and in a moment, he was so far asleep, it almost seemed he was comatose.

Conscious came back slowly and when it did, he allowed his eyes to open. The room was dark, which meant Arya must have closed the curtains. It was oddly cool in the room too. He glanced about and was mildy surprised to see the curtains were wide open and it was getting past dusk outside. He got up, noting the headache was gone, replaced by a few aches and mild pains, nothing too bad. In fact, he was feeling quite good.

“Arya? I’m awake!”

No answer. A touch disappointed, he reaslised she must have gone on this date she mentioned earlier. Having absolutely no idea what a date was, he could only guess what she was up to now. Not that it was a problem, Turbogeek felt like it was best to be by himself anyway. Getting up to his feet, he crossed over to the window, hands about to close the curtains as he looked out over the city. The fog was rolling in, smothering the buildings and lights in it’s blanket. The place was looking quiet overall tho. He closed the curtains, before allowing his eyes to adjust to the darkness, moved over to the heater and turned it on. The room began to warm immediately, with the young man deciding he could do with a shower – a proper shower with hot water. Sonics were effective, but they sucked pleasure wise. Now, did this place have a water shower….?

Afew minutes investigation showed it didn’t seem to, but seeing a small hatch made him wonder. A curious few minutes and some deft prying made a panel come loose and he saw what looked like a odd shaped tap. It had a sizable nozzle, with a lot of small perforations. He was disappointed, he was hoping to find the controls to a microspray, like he once had when jeseth and himself were on Coruscant. The only water shower he ever had, it was a guilty pleasure. He decided to turn the tap away, to see a fine spray of water come out. He whooped in delight, before stripping off and getting under the now hot water. Oh joy!

Nearly 20 minutes later, his skin red from the heat, he finished up before coming out with a piece of his clothing, drying himself off. He had to admint, that was all his clothing was useful for now. Seeing the tears on his shirt rerally made him woder what the woman was after. A bashing he might be able to understand. But his clothes being destroyed? What was she looking for?

And if the truth be told, he was having big doubts about trying to pass himself as this Jedi Master he shared and looks with. It was obviously highly dangerous, although it would come in useful sometime in the future, he was certain. Glancing in a amirror, he regarded his reflection, his mind digging up one of the images of Jedi Master Turbogeek he found last night. The Jedi was cleanshaven and short hair. Turbogeek had the vestigaes of a beard and long unkept hair, which did make a few differences. Enough that most beings wouldn’t notice and enough similarities that he could pass himself off. One thing he did need to do however was find some way to stay anonymous until he was ready to reveal his face.

He also needed new clothes, which he had some in his travelling bag. Unpacking it, he found he had a set of underclothes, a darkish shirt and dark pants. But most of all, he found a dark brown, rough cut cloak, with hood and a rope type tie up. Long billowing sleeves too. He quickly dressed, arranged the cloak and the hood, then looked back in the mirror. Someone different looked back, face hidden in shadow except for the chin, which was covered with beard anyway. This was good… very good!

Maybe I will go to the Crouching Tiger tonight. He thought. Maybe I’ll go and have a look and see what this date Arya said she was going to was.

[Arya Ravenwing]

While Turb had slept, Arya had changed her blouse, having found some blood on it. Opting for a form-fitting tank, she checked the chrono, and then quietly left, closing and locking the door behind her.

She took the stairs down to the decrepit lobby, hoping that the six flights would take the edge of her raw nervousness. Men like Hunter did that to her. As a sex, they were predictable, at least, most of them were. It was the ones who weren't that were the most dangerous. Of course, when they were going to pay her money for a job, that was another thing altogether.

Arya absently counted her footsteps all the way down, and one hundred and ten counted steps later she was nodding to the droid behind the desk and walking out into the setting sun of Arcan IV. If the skyscrapers hadn't been blocking most of the sunlight, it might even have been pretty, what with all the refraction from the smog and the thick odor that hung about the city. Arya cracked her neck, and caught a taxi.

Twenty minutes later, after getting lost and yelling at the alien cab driver, who apparently had never bothered to learn Basic or buy a map, Arya exited the cab, and stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the Crouching Tiger Inn. She looked up momentarily, taking in the ten or so stories, and then entered the building.

Passing through the glass front doors, Arya winked at a young bellhop, and allowed him to open the second set of glass doors for her. The front desk was about ten feet in front of her, several assorted potted plants, seats, and a piano on the left side, as well as the signs to the 'fresher. Arya turned right, and continued on towards the main lobby/restaurant.

The floor was an old synthetic granite, a shiny dark green with black and silver flecks. Arya's boots made a dull thudding sound as she walked on it. The short, wide hallway opened up to a large room, which must have been spectacular...fifteen years ago. Directly to her right was a raised platform which ran along the entire right side of the room, on which there were a few patrons sitting at the polished cherrywood bar. Behind the counter there was room for three or more bartenders, but there was only one there now. She didn't imagine that they did much business, but perhaps things picked up during the tourist season. As if Arcan IV has a tourist season.

Just two steps below the bar was a dining area, complete with two diners, at separate tables, of course. There were at least twenty tables and booths, but the dinner rush wasn't until later. And across from that there was an orchestra pit, empty, of course, and a dance floor, highly polished, but worn and empty. Towards the back of the room on the right side beside the bar there were some darker tables and possibly a small chance table or two. Someone sitting back there was smoking a cigarra, Arya could see the rings drifting up in the air.

She stared at the left wall, the one by the dance floor. It was covered with a huge mirror, or several of them, giving the illusion that the room was much more vast than it actually was, complete with a second bar on the left. Someone really keeps this place spotless. Arya paused, and then edged towards the bar.

[Gurney Devries]

Xellos was busy enough trying to balance the ungainly food containers under one arm while picking up the drinks in the other, that he had hardly noticed the woman pass him by. That little oversight, however, didn't last very long. Letting out a low whistle, he quickly went about setting the containers down on a nearby table and took the opportunity to get a better look at his newfound object of interest.

She was clad in a formfitting outfit, made from some type of reflective material. Probably was expensive: the sort of thing Xellos' rather simple mind figured only some rich dame would wear. He let his eyes silently trace the curves of her body, a completely idiotic grin covering his face. If Gurney were here, he'd no doubt have smacked his partner upside the head for his foolish gawking. But he wasn't, and so Xellos took full advantage of the opportunity.

Licking the palm of one hand, he passed it over his mess of purple hair in an attempt to smooth it over. That was the first thing that usually caught people's attention, after all: His hair. He'd been dying it a bright Royal Purple for longer than he could honestly remember. It kind of impeded on a person when trying to travel incognito, but then, he hardly ever did this type of work. Feeling a bit giddy from the lack of blood to his brain, Xellos figured that the food could wait.

With a stride that was half cocky, half goofy, he made his way over to the bar, taking up a position next to the mysterious woman. Trying to look casual (and looking more and more like the inexperienced flirt he was), he rested one elbow on the countertop, facing her.

"Heeey, there Good Looking," he said, drawing out the first word to better get her attention. With a wink, he continued. "How's it going?"

[Captain Tohmahawk]

“Well, that was useful – finally. Why the hell couldn’t we have come here instead of slugging it out over this @#%$ hole?” commented Scorpion as the left the last of Tohmahawk’s contacts

“ Usually Schumacher is too filled up with pod racing to notice damn near anything. I’m surprised he remembered who I am”

“Damn surprising you remember yourself. Who else are you on your day off?”

“Well…. I also run a slicer id and a New Republic Tech. But mainly, it’s the Hunter id. Damn useful it is too, it gets me places that normally a General of the New Republic can’t get”

“What, get laid?”

Tohmahawk sighed. It had been a long day, especially with the constant banter and frankly, he was getting tired. It had been a fruitless day without any real leads until they got to Schmaucher, who had proven highly useful. “Yeah, well it’s better than a Mrs Palmer job. Okay, so we know there seems to be a slimy barstard in office now with some sort of advisors and they definantly seem to be confident. What about the hint there are large troop shipments?”

“Well, that would make sense. 22 Destroyers, even on a skeleton crew would need a lot of men to crew. And I really can’t imagine nearly 1 million New Republic crewers and officers being in on this. So where the hell are they all?”

“I really cant say. I honestly hope there wasn’t a wholesale kill, then again I don’t think anyone could quietly dispose of the numbers your talking of….. what?”

Scorpion had stopped and was looking at a group of men. Tohmahawk noted the alert state his friend was in, thence deducted the Chiss had seen something he hadn’t. “New Republic engineers James. You can tell by the emblems”

They looked at each other. “Shall we go introduce ourselves?” asked Tohmahawk.

“Good idea, but I doubt that will be good. Like to tell someone a NRGeneral or two, or a notorious Bounty Hunter and his sidekick are sniffing around?. However, their existence leads to the conclusion that the crews could be alive… and offship”

“Heh? I must have taken a dose of stupid pills. How the hell can they be running the ships with the crewers off them?” replied Tohmahawk.

“You’re the brains here mate, you tell me. I’m jus the good looking one”

This was just getting plain mysterious and none of it was making sense, at least not to Tohmahawk. “Man, all this is giving me a headache. I suggest we go to the Tiger and just work this out and what the hell to do next. Agreed?”

“Good, because I could do with a drink. Where is this inn anyway?”

“About two hundred meters down the road. They know me quite well there, so they’ll let the artillery through, plus have a decent booth. With any luck, this Ravenwing will be there”

They continued to walk down the road, with Scorpion breaking the silence first. “So, when is West’s first strike due?”

“Tonight. We should be finished with Ravenwing well and truly by then. Okay… here it is”. They both stopped, to regard the building.

“You sure pick ‘em James. You actually like coming to this hovel?” asked Scorpion

“Gee, a compliment of my taste, how completely unlike you. Lets say the owner been making up from making me come out second best in a deal, thence the drinks are unspiked and cut price. Despite appearances, it’s a good place. Lets get in there”

The two men entered through the front doors, then progressed through the second doors, where a distinctly nervous bellhop tried to stop them from entering with the guns they had. Tohmahawk flashed his id once and it all changed, the bellhop becoming pathetically fawning over Master Hunter and his business guest.

“Good grief, if you dropped your pants, he would have kissed your arse after flashing the Hunter id” said Scorpion.

“I wouldn’t be dropping my pants near him. It’s not the only thing he would try to kiss”

Scorpion turned slowly to stare at the bellhop, who was at this point arranging a table for them. “Gross. Can I shoot him now?”

“I’ve wanted to for a long time, but my welcome would suddenly be exhausted. The owner looks favourably on him, if you know what I mean”. Scorpion looked revolted. “Oh don’t worry. If you let them, he can tell you about the room downstairs. That’s MUCH worse”

“Your having me on. There are people actually like that?”

“Unfortunately, the owner of this place and the bellhop are two of the most depraved characters I have ever met. Some days I wonder if it isn’t a good idea to set off a thermal detonator and raz the place. Ahhh, finally, he’s coming back here”

The bellhop slimed his way back to where the two warriors were waiting. “Ah, Mr Hunter! Please, this way!”

“Mr Hunter?” whispered Scorpion.

“It’s a formal place, Jyanis”

“That’s MR Scorpion to you. Geez, what a dump. Don’t they maintain this hole?”

“Hmph. Just wait till after midnight when the real scum turn up and then tell me if it’s a hole when they’re not here. Ahhh good, usual table” Tohmahawk tossed a coin at the bellhop, who bowed and left. Both men slung their packs under the table before taking seats. The booth itself was in a corner, in a place that you could watch the doors and the rest of the room without moving your head. Tohmahawk, with his eyeshades he used as part of this id on despite the darkness, scanned the room.

“You think she’s here?” asked Scorpion

“There’s three other diners, one a woman. If that’ her she’s in a damn good disgu…. Oh my. That IS her” Tohmahawk was frankly stunned, while Scorpion give an appreciative whistle.

“Not bad. Your’ve got taste in your contacts anyway”

“Calm your hormones, this is business. We’ll wait for her to come over here. Meanwhile…..drinks”

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya felt the warm breath of the man on her shoulder, and slowly turned her head to face him as he leaned across the bartop. She moistened her lips, and favored him with a flat stare. "Actually, now that you ask, I think its going to get a whole lot worse. For you."

Before her words had completely registered in the purple haired male's brain, Arya reached over and down with her hand, and grabbed his crotch. Hard. He grunted and arched as if to pull away...but didn't actually go anywhere. Air hissed out from between his teeth, and his hands grabbed for the stool and the bar as she clenched the muscles in her hand.

Arya turned to the bartender to accept her drink, and then back to the man whose eyes were bulging. She leaned in close to his ear, "I think you'll do better after you get back to wherever it is you came from. I'm here to meet someone special, and we don't want to be bothered. Understood?" She raised an eyebrow, and released him.

Gasping, he scrabbled backwards, trying to gather all of his packages. Arya shrugged at the bartender, and then leaned back against the bar, taking in the rest of the outdated room. There.

She uncrossed her legs and removed her slim body from the bar stool, walking down the steps towards Hunter, and his Chiss companion.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

“Yep, I certainly have taste in contacts. Beautiful and rip your nuts off if you say the wrong words. Still want to say hello?” asked Tohmahawk.

“Well…… I’ll let you do the talking. I bet that guy will be speaking with a squeaky voice for a week after that welcome” Scorpion relied.

“Agh, where’s your sense of adventure. Look in the bright side – she cant be carrying any concealed weapons with that dress”

“Don’t bet on it. I once knew a woman…”

“Okay, okay! I think I get the idea. Now how about you get us a few drinks while I get started. Introductions later if you behave”

Scorpion did a get imitation on being offended, before getting up to fetch some of the bantha piss they passed off for alcohol in this dump. Tohmahawk grimaced then, fixed his facial expressions into the scowl that he used when he was Hunter. It was actually quite amazing what could be done in disguise with just a change in expression. He stared at the woman as she approached and when she got to his table, raised a hand to indicate for her to join him. She stood her ground and spoke first.

“Before I take a seat, who was your companion”

“Odan? He’s a starship mechanic helping me on the job I am working on here”

“Oh? I didn’t think men like you needed help” Her tone was hostile and provocative, adding a contemptuous twist when she said ‘you’.

“I would rather he wasn’t here, I will have to split the bounty. Now, you wanted to see me. What about?”

“I want my money” she snapped

“Why? Are you giving the job up?”

“No, I just want to make sure your not reneging on your half before I go back”

Hunter nodded. “Very well. Would you want cash for the two months you have been employed, 5000 per month?”

“Don’t be stupid, no one has that amount of script on hand” She seemed to move to leave, when he took out a purse and threw it at her. She caught it, suspicion in her eyes. Ravenwing opened it, then closed the purse just as quickly.

“Like to count it?” said Hunter in a deadpan voice

She shook her head and seemed to soften a bit and now taking a seat. Scorpion came back bearing three cups smelling of some sort of ale. He placed one in front of Hunter, the second in front of Ravenwing, before taking a seat as well. She seemed to eyes him off with a fair bit of suspicion before speaking again. “No, I’ll trust you”

Scorpion snorted and Tohmahawk gave him a filthy look. “Okay Ravenwing, you got paid. Tell me what your been up to”

[Gurney Devries]

Off in the next room, Gurney sat bolt upright as he heard the door in the other half of the apartment slide open. If that was Xellos, he had neglected the coded knock they had worked out earlier. The man had enough talent to be a vital asset in what Gurney was planning. Unfortunately, he had already proven on numerous occasions to be a sloppy accomplice. Grabbing his knife off of the bedstand next to him, Gurney tucked it away in his robes and silently made his way over to the walkway that led to the main room. He intended to carefully peak inside the room and see who was there, but his concern was allayed as he caught a glimpse of the bright purple hair that could only belong to his companion.

Trying his best to put a reprimanding tone into it, Gurney made his presence known in a loud and commanding voice.

"Just what did you think you were doing, coming in here without knocking first? You should feel damned lucky that I didn't just slit yo-..."

Gurney's rebuke trailed off as he finally took note of the way his temporary friend was walking: He made his way across the room in stiff, uneven steps, keeping his back turned to the other man. But it wasn't enough to keep Gurney from seeing the way he was clutching at his groin area. Suddenly, the reprimand turned into a stifled chuckle as he realized what had happened.

"You're really a piece of work, you know that Xel? Even at a ratty joint like this, you still managed to get yourself into trouble."

The purple haired man turned his head back just long enough to shoot a glare at him that said "Drop it", before collapsing into a chair. Clucking his tongue, Gurney gave another soft laugh and turned back to the food containers. He picked one up, cracking open it's top to examine the cooling contents. Frowning at the tossed around and very cold contents, Gurney let out an audible sigh to express his obvious displeasure to the other man.

"Look, I'm going to go downstairs and pick up something for myself. You can have my tray of... whatever that is in there. Do you think you can get by that long without causing any more trouble?"

Xellos gave a slight inclination of his head, as close to a nod as he was going to accomplish right now. The physical pain of what the lady downstairs did to him had all but vanished, but he was almost paralyzed with embarassment. Shaking his head, Gurney keyed the door and walked out of the room, heading downstairs.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya shot the Chiss sidekick another sideways glance, and then proceeded to ignore him, even while keeping an eye on him in her peripheral vision. She leaned an elbow on the table, as lazy as a tigress as she sniffed her drink, and then tasted it. Not bad. I've had worse...and in worse places than this.

"What have I been up to?" Arya paused, and then continued. "Just doing my job. Plus the fact that after our last meeting I had to do quite a bit of mending." Her fingers absently touched her face as she talked, and then rested around her cup. "I've 'infiltrated' the Black Hand, or rather, been taken in by an apprentice there. I've established a rapport with this apprentice, and through that relationship I'm working on softening his master."

She snorted, a rather unladylike sound, and downed her drink. "I'm earning this money, believe me, the beings that live there are as creepy as hell."

[Pierce Tondry]

The Arcan IV TacCom HQ was surprisingly state-of-the-art. The money for the installation had come in the form of an aid package given to Governor Yevyss not long after his election six months ago. Due to nearby pirate attacks, the TacCom building had been pushed through construction.

The net result was that Pierce had an excellent facility to coordinate the military-assisted police sweep through the slums.

Before Pierce, on a large holographic city map, a countdown timer ticked away from the two minute mark. Green symbology indicated the police and their assisting military personnel, with green circles marking regular units and stars for police chiefs or army officers like General Olar, who was taking charge of the situation personally.

The green units drove down various streets to reach their assigned markers, each speeder or group of speeders utilizing streets that were far enough away from each other to keep their hand from being tipped.

Of course, various members of the organized crime groups that operated from there had been warned an hour ago that they needed to seek refuge further inside the city. Only their competition, the employees they didn't want, and a some local bullyboys remained to get caught up in the net.

And what a net it was. The green dots on the map were rapidly forming a large circle, which would soon become a new defensive perimeter for the city. The police would hold the line until construction droids could move in to create physical barriers that would mark this line.

The timer had a minute-thirty left on it, and Pierce watched those seconds tick away with a certain amount of satisfaction.

Suddenly, the door to central opened, admitting several guards, a squad of cameramen, and- "Governor Yevyss," Pierce's eyes lifted. "What are you doing here?"

"I'm here to televise this event," Desmond stated in a voice that had a dramatic quality to it. The Governor was obviously putting on a show for the people watching. "The police and the military of Arcan IV, working together to bring law and order to the criminal infested slums of our capital. I could think of no better event to mark my first term in office."

Desmond smiled triumphantly, and with a slight smirk as well. He smiled at the cameramen and indicated where they should stand in order to get the best angles.

Pierce turned his head away, busying himself with some last minute preparations. It was a tactic reminiscent of Palpatine, that interfering dog of an Emperor. Yevyss was here to publicize the event, true, but by being here instead of the Governor's Mansion and making everything public, the Governor could make suggestions that were orders and monitor the entire operation.

What it amounted to was a potential foul-up in the works.

"We go live in three, two, one-"

"Ladies and gentlemen of Arcan IV," the Governor began in an altogether more serious voice than he'd used previously. "Long has the criminal population of our planet infested our cities and interfered with our lives. It was one of my election campaign's platform goals to cut the number of thugs on the streets, and to that end our police force has been strengthened. They are equipped with the best weaponry and technology we can afford-" the Governor's voice had a slight sympathy-building catch to it on the word "afford" - "And, in a joint venture with the Arcan IV Army's military police, they will stamp out as much of the criminal element in our fair capital as possible. This sweep has been planned for several months, and it is with great pleasure that I present it to you live from Arcan Tactical Command Headquarters. Our satellite imaging feeds inside the HQ are brought to us courtesy of the excellent work of Fleet Admiral Adrius Jeger, whose Navy built and deployed them. Our on-site Commander in charge of personally directing the assault is General Tailam Olar, and our Headquarters Coordinator in charge of Tactical Planning is a hired specialist- General Corinas Jax."

There was an ominous pause while footsteps approached Pierce from behind. "General Jax," Yevyss said, putting a hand on his shoulder to get him to face the camera. "This sweep is essentially your brainchild, and your organization of it is truly incredible. Do you have anything you'd like to say about it?"

The timer, coincidentally, had just hit the ten second mark. What lousy timing. "Yeah," Pierce stated. "We're gonna kick some butt. Now, if you'll excuse me, Governor-"

His hand activated the comm. "All units, this is General Jax. You will commence at my mark. Five, four, three, two, one-"

Belatedly aware of the cameras on him, Pierce lifted a hand and pointed it towards the tactical screen while pausing dramatically. "Mark," he said.

The friendly unit symbology suddenly began surging from its' positions city-wide. The thin ring of dot clusters thickened and the troops were on their way.

"Very nicely done, General," Yevyss whispered in his ear. "That bit with the arm was perfect. Just make sure you don't lose too many of my men."

"As long as I'm in command," Pierce stressed in a low voice. "We'll do just fine."

The Governor stepped away as reports began flooding in. "Get the job done," he whispered. "Or else."

Pierce snorted, and concentrated on what he was there to do.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya sat a little uncomfortably in her chair, keeping an eye on the reflections in the huge mirrors on the far wall. They were smudged and dirty near the ceiling.

Hunter was talking. "Keep me updated on your progress."

"Through the same, indecent means?" Arya couldn't help winking. "Hope you enjoyed the Twi'leks." A wry smile caught just barely at the corner of his lips, and then was banished. His associate just sat there, testing his ale with caution. She lifted hers to her lips, ready to drain it, and-

Armed men were running through streets-

Arya brought her hand down after a pause, and shook her head. Listening, she heard shouts from outside...in the distance.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

The brief smile faded.

“Yes same means. I’ve got a good idea how you will be calling”. While Tohmahawk was speaking, he couldn’t help to notice Ravenwing seemed to become preoccupied. He glanced at Scorpion… and saw he too was seemingly preoccupied.

“Oppie…”

No response

“Jyanis”

The Chiss alien looked up, somewhat surprised Tohmahawk used his real name.

“Jyanis, what’s wrong?”

“I’m not sure – I thought I heard a blastershot. Did you hear that?”

Tohmahawk shook his head. “Hear what?”

“Shh… there it is again. Shouting. Faint. And…. There’s a disturbance in the Force”

Tohmahawk slowly turned his head to listen. “I don’t hear anything”. Ravenwing gave Scorpion a puzzled glance.

“Disturbance in the Force?” she asked. “Surely you don’t…”

There. He heard it. It was also getting closer. Scorpion ducked under the table with a piece of cloth and a few seconds later, his disguise was removed, revealing the New Republic General. Ravenwing looked confused. “What… what is going on?”

Good question. “Jyanis what are you doing? This place aint friendly to the Republic, when they see a NR General….”

“There’s a raid coming James. My disguise is good, but it isn’t going to stop the local armed forces from finding out who I am if normal raid procedures are held. Plus in 2 hours, it isn’t going to matter anyway”

“Talk sense to me Scorpion…. What’s happening in two hours?”

“I’ve been carrying a comm. Relay. There was a strike team I ordered to smuggle in and then do as West’s team are doing, based on the feed. 12 hous later…. The fleey gets here”

“Tw…twelve… HOURS?!?! What happened to 4 days?!?!”

“The fleet know what they’re dealing with. They have been getting every word from their final jump point just outside the system”

“But….”

“I ordered the NRSF fleet to follow us immediately, including Defender and Argus I and stand off for 24 hours after our arrival. If they don’t hear from me, they attack and invade”

Tohmahawk swore, but it all made logical sense. The fleet would know the defectors were here, Tohmahawk and Scorpion had seen at least one on their way to land. The NR engineers on the planet meant it was a high level officer defection, not a wholesale mutiny. It meant the ships were more than likely with skeleton crews and would be easy to recapture. But despite it’s logic, Tohmahawk still felt his blood pressure rising. “Jyanis… why the frell didn’t you bloody well tell me?!?!”

“You didn’t ask”

“What the HELL is going on?!?” snapped Ravenwing.

“My friend is in fact General Jyanis Scorpion, one time military leader of The Sith Council, then Sith Empire, before he saw the light and crossed sides, now New Republic and Jedi. And it seems courtesy of my blue friend, we are not only about to be swept up in a raid,” More yells were heard outside and the first blaster shot. A scream. “Because this place is one of the drug dens on this dump and then we are going to be in a war zone. Does that sum it up well enough?”
“WHAT?! Did you cause the goons to drop the hammer?” she snapped

Tohmahawk looked quizzically at Scorpion, who shook his head. “No, from what I can pick up from their minds, they don’t know we are here”. The rest of the patrons were now alerted that something was going on from the continued shouts and the firing that was getting louder and louder, there was now a paltible sense of fear in the air.

“Back door Jyanis?”

“No, they have that covered already”

Kasst. He reached under the table, picked up his bundle and with a quick flick, strapped it to his back. Another hand dipped into his duster and bought out a heavy carbne, which he threw to Arya. “Allright, we do it the direct way. Jyanis, don’t use the toy in the box until I tell you to. Ravenwing, right flank. We’ll stay the bigger targets and draw their fire. You pick em off and get the hell out of here. Understood?”

“Your… going to blast your way clear? Are you insane?!” she replied.

Scorpion and Tohmahawk exchanged looks before Scorpion replied. “You better believe it. Why, don’t want to join the fun?”

She answered by switching off the safety and cocking the weapon for firing.

“Good. Right…. Follow me” said Tohmahawk, stepping away from the table. One of the humans that were waiters ran up, squarking about not causing trouble. Tohmahawk, with his strength given from living on a high g planet, simply backhanded the man in the jaw, smashing him some meters away and into a table. The trio formed up a triangle with Tohmahawk in the front and moved to the exit.

[Darth Turbogeek]

Turbogeek eventually found the Crouching Tiger Inn, after consulting a map from an information booth. It didn’t look like much of a place from the outside, except for the shadows he could lurk in. On the other side of the street, there were even better shadows and that was where he aimed for. After some picking and choosing, he found a great place to hide, where he couldn’t be seen that overlooked the area perfectly. He leaned on the wall and began to just watch the traffic, the pedestrians and the front door.

After a few minutes, he felt himself get bored. Not being a trained watcher, he was discovering how boring quiet observation work could be. In fact, he was beginning to think this was all quite stupid when he heard yells and a explosion. Curious, he watched as groups of armed men began to sweep the streets, surrounding some buildings, avoiding others. To his puzzlement, a group gathered at the entrance of the inn, follwed a moment later by more, these ones bearing heavy weaponry. He didn’t know what a raid was, but the sight of so many men bearing guns made his heart sink to his feet.

Arya? Was she going to be in trouble? He sank deeper in the shadows, hoping someone had made a mistake. But it didn’t seem so. There were more places being surrounded and there was the beginnings of shootings. And it seemed that every person coming out was being killed by these men.

Arya, your in danger! He mentally yelled.

But he knew it was too late as he saw all hell suddenly broke loose.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya checked the carbine she had been tossed, and cracked her neck, getting loose for the battle that was about to break loose. She looked at the Chiss again, New Republic General? That reminded her of the prick that beat the krasst out of her on her ship at the NR customs picket... But there was no time for animosity or distrust. Either emotion was deadly in a situation that required trust.

Arya, you're in danger! She jerked her head, looking for Turbogeek. He was no where in sight, and not in her mind's eye either. The loose triangle formation the trio had taken with Hunter at the head was an affective one. Arya had been in enough bar fights to know that if you had backup, you had better not get separated. Fighting back to back was the smartest way to go about this, but if they were separated from each other...

Well, lets just hope that doesn't happen. Arya looked at her booted feet and the carbine in her hands. I just hope its enough.

[Gurney Devries]

Breaking his stride, Gurney's cool and measured pace faltered as he walked into the dining area. A silent alarm was buzzing in his head, and it was quite frankly driving him nuts. Something was up. He couldn't explain how he knew this, but he was as sure of it as he would be if someone had just pulled a blaster on him. Well, there'd be plenty of time for questions later. For now, he was just going to have to trust his instinct... or whatever that was.

His vision clearing a little, he noticed a trio of people acting frantic across the way. Were they the trouble he was being warned of? No, that didn't seem right. As inconspicuously as he could, Gurney ducked into a corner booth and turned to watch them.

One of the people was under their table now, doing... something. It was difficult to tell what that something was at the distance he was sitting at, but it looked like one of the men was taking something off. Gurney caught a glimpse of brass, and it took him only a few seconds more to see the New Rep symbol on the man's lapel. So it seemed his hunch was right: New Rep agents wouldn't likely be stirring up trouble. But they sure as hell looked ready for it.

Mentally writing off Xellos for the moment, Gurney dashed across the room. Hopefully, this wasn't all some wild tresher hunt, or else he'd wind up looking beyond foolish. But he'd learned to trust these strange bits of insight that came from random "hunches" enough to count this one as genuine.

[Pierce Tondry]

The ring of law-enforcement personnel had become a band, ringing the entire city. In some of the smaller squares that subdivided the city map, there was almost no registered activity. For some units a few fistfights, perhaps one or two warning shots from particularly menacing officers, and their part in the deal was over, their assignment to ship the few remaining prisoners back in armored speeders and hold the new line.

Other places were highlighted in red as zones of high blaster fire or building damage. Those were the locations of the remaining criminal gangs in the area, or beings who didn't particularly like the law.

Sector G4, Subdivision K7 had been red, but it abruptly flashed into clarity. "MP Special Unit 001 reporting clear, HQ. There was apparently a major spice-making operation going on in our area, but we took care of it."

Governor Yevyss made a noise in the back of his throat that Pierce's Intelligence training translated into "Another opposing force bites the dust." Finding himself in mild agreement with Desmond's assessment, he concentrated on the task at hand.

"MP Special Unit 001, acknowledged. Commence holding pattern Delta and wait for further orders."

"Acknowledged."

Pierce paused before continuing, studying the holographic display. "SU 001, be advised that the next subsection over is a hot zone. Major firepower coming from several buildings in the vicinity, so you'll want to stay on your toes. Inform General Olar of this news so he can take appropriate steps."

"Acknowledged, HQ. I'll relay that to the General."

Pierce cut his comm, briefly glad that it wasn't his voice being broadcast over Arcan IV's capital city, but was instead distorted by a vocoder hidden beneath his facemask. The fiction of General Corinas Jax was deep, out of necessity.

The officer's link flickered to life again. "HQ, this is City Brigade Unit 051, we are under heavy firepower and request backup from nearest available units. Repeat, we are under heavy firepower and request backup from nearest available units."

"CBU 051, this is HQ," Pierce responded, trying to switch to policetalk. "We acknowledge your request, but cannot send backup without further info. Please transmit, if possible. Over."

"HQ, we are in the vicinity of an inn called Crouching Tiger, but it feels more like we've dug up a hidden dragon. Of the five neighboring buildings across the street and the three on this side, seven of them are spitting blaster fire in all directions. We have six officers down wounded, three more dead. I have twenty more officers with me, but they're dispersed and I can't contact half of them. The other ten are in a defensive position on my side of the street, but as I mentioned there are enemies firing at us on this side, as well."

Pierce nearly gawked, but years of quashing expressions of surprise held his face stoic. Of all the areas to cause major trouble, he wouldn't have guessed that the area around the Crouching Tiger would be one of them. "Seems like some people oppose your policy, Governor," he said out loud.

"Crime is hard to stamp out sometimes," Yevyss replied philosophically. "Do your best, General Jax." Just make sure you don't lose too many of my men.

Pierce checked his map. To the immediate right of the affected area was General Olar's command unit. The next three areas in sequence in the ring were clear, and had been through the entire operation so far.

"CBU 052 and SU 001 and 002, this is HQ. We have a backup request for CBU 051. They're under heavy fire and have taken casualties. Please send as many effectives as possible to assist."

"Headquarters, this is General Olar," the brusque officer's voice responded suddenly. "I have been monitoring the situation from my area and have determined the threat potential to be high. I will be bringing my entire unit to assist. All nearby units are also ordered to assist with as many effectives as possible without compromising our defenses. Please request a DSF from Admiral Jeger."

DSF stood for Direct Satellite Feed. Olar wanted as detailed a picture of the area as he could get. That was quite a threat potential, especially for criminal dregs.

Unless there was something else there.

"General Olar, this is Jax," Pierce responded, keying the DSF request up to the ships in orbit and attaching the name and rank of the requestee. "I'm on the horn and I'm getting you your DSF. Sit tight- your boys will have as much support as I can get them."

"Thank you, General," Olar responded. "We're getting the feed now."

Pierce took a quick look to his left at Governor Yevyss, who was watching the entire picture. This was one of the few times that he was truly frustrated at having civilians with Holovid cameras around. Any attempt to check the satellite feed for himself would result in it being broadcasted over every TV in the city and possibly alerting whoever was occupying the area to know they were being targeted specifically, and that could not be allowed.

He just had to watch and wait.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Before the three of them turned out of the exit, Tohmahawk raised his hand and halted them

“Hide any weapons. Ravenwing, keep the carbine behind your back. We’ll try to walk out casually first”

She obeyed and they recommenced walking. They turned and moved through exit doors…..

And stopped. Tohmahawk mentally swore as he saw the number of troops and security personnel, all quite well armed. And alert. Whoever was in charge was taking no chances. Something in Tohmahawk’s mind told him the manager and the bellhop were already dead, the troops were now going to round up whoever else was in here and most likely arrest or just plain execute if they were guilty of anything. Charming. The entranceway was rock clad, polished smooth, ten columns stretched out to the exit doors, some 30 meters ahead, with several doors and also a staircase to the right. Their entrance of course didn’t go unnoticed, but seeing as they were not apparently armed or threatening, the troops were fairly casual and one of the security types came up to them, with a weapons scanner in hand

“Would you mind removing any weapons, keys, metallic items that you may have and place them in this basket?” he asked, leering at Ravenwing. Tohmahawk glanced at Scorpion and then Ravenwing, nodded. He stepped forward, pulling his coat open to give the guard a decent look at what he was carrying. The security guard took one look, his eyes going wide, with complete fear taking over his face

“Holy @#%$!!”

Tohmahawk didn’t give him any more chance to speak. His hand snapped out in a palm heel strike, aimed at the ribcage. Probably the only thing that saved the man’s life was that he was thrown backwards and the ribs that broke didn’t pierce anything important. Hitting his head on the floor as he landed, stunning himself also helped. But it didn’t help anyone else, as they all suddenly came to the belated realisation something was about to happen – something the equivalent of a rancor getting loose amongst a pack of Jawas. The General’s hands moved fast, pulling loose two auto repeat sub machine projectile guns, aimed them to either side, then opened fire. Bullets blasted body parts and blood in all directions, the guns clicking empty after 35 rounds had been pumped out. He swivelled, paced his back to a pillar, throwing down the subs and taking out two more, already loaded. A single security yelled into a comm.link, calling for back, whilst desperately drawing his gun. Ravenwing finished him off with a single shot to the head, whilst Scorpion blazed away with a rifle, cutting down troops at the exit. A few more seconds was all what was needed to clear the area.

“Any more?” yelled Tohmahawk

“No, clear here!” replied Scorpion

“Clear!” yelled Ravenwing

They regrouped, feet crunching on spent shells, before freezing. A much larger detachment of soldiers swarmed through the doors, finding cover, taking positions behind desks. The ominous clicking of weapons coming off safety resounded in the halls.

“FREEZE!” yelled one of the soldiers. For a few seconds, the two groups faced off silently.

“Screw this” said Scorpion quietly, the tone of his voice making it clear what he was thinking. Tohmahawk and Ravenwing looked at each other and them moved, Tohmahawk bolting left, Ravenwing right. Scorpion stood his ground, opening fire. Tohmahawk lost sight of the woman as he ran for a pillar to take cover. He could quite clearly hear a voice suddenly yell out ""Kriffing A!!!", but he didnt have long to ponder that. The present hand guns were proving not to be powerful enough to be effective, he emptied the clips and threw them down as he gained cover, blaster shots howling and throwing shrapnel at his heels. He could feel the column crumbling under the assault behind him as he fished out the Uz’i’s. He counted to three, waited for the next barrage to lessen for a second, then leaped out, guns spitting flames, hollow point projectiles blowing great holes in walls and troops, whatever got in the way of the deadly hail.

[Gurney Devries]

Gurney didn't have the chance to make it to the trio's table before all three people got up and hastily made their way for the exit, totally ignoring the robed man. As they ran by, he got a better look at the man with the New Rep badge.

"Blue skin," he thought. "A Chiss? Out here?"

He didn't have too much time to ponder this as they roughly pushed their way past him. His danger sense was almost deafening now, and he was quickly running out of options. So, with a sharp 90 degree turn, he followed all three people back out of the dining area.

And, were it possible, his jaw would have hit the floor right then.

Row after row of troops were lined up in the main hall, completely blocking off the exit. Gurney's mind raced, trying to think of a way out of this one.

"Talk about being in the wrong place...", he muttered.

He had seen a fair amount of warfare in his days, but nothing could compare to the sheer chaos that broke out then. The air was suddenly filled with the sounds of gunfire - something very much unfamiliar to the Combat Instructor.

"Khrast! Those must be slug-throwers they're using!"

He didn't stop to give it any more thought, instead opting to dive behind what he hoped was a nice, thick pillar. It was roughly a foot in diameter, and permacrete all the way through. He prayed that it would be enough.

Gurney stood, unconsciously holding his breath until a shot riccocheted off the tiled wall next to him, grazing his left leg. "Kriffing A!!!", he called out - more out of anger than pain. The whole world suddenly went to hell in a handbasket, and he was right in the middle of it.

Biting his lip fiercely, he pressed even harder against the pillar and prayed that it would all end soon: Preferably with him living.

[Nathan W3st]

The Wolves marched through the stink called a sewer while above them, combined forces ripped appart the old warehouse district.

"Wolves, this is Drop One. Emergency situation has developed. I'm a dot."

"Further information, Drop?" The signal fazed in and out as they passed different materials down in the sewers.

"Turn on the local *bzzttt*nnels. Wolves, I *bzzzzttzzztt* lift now. Good *bzzzt*nting."

Above them, the sound of marching feet echoed.

"Check the local networks, and someone tell me what the @#$% is going on."

"Not really sure, sir, but they seem to be sweeping the area and leveling the place in the process." West heard distant blaster fire, and then heard...

Either somone else was using projectile weapons or that was the General up there. Nathan dashed to the ladder, careful to avoid slipping in the muck. Clamouring up the ladder, he moved the manhole cover up a bit with one hand, and ventured a look. He saw the perhaps 20 troops encircling the building. Quickly glancing about the whole 360 degrees, West found that there was no one behind him, or to his sides. He slid the manhole cover halfway open, and stared through the scope of his rifle, and aimed it through an open door. He watched as somone with very Chiss features dived behind a pillar.

"Some of our friends have a bit of company. Lay low."

West raised the scope to his eye, and put the crosshairs dead in the middle of an officer's helmet.

Fzzzzziiiiip! His body crumpled over, a neat hole left behind.

Nathan moved the rifle a bit, and lined up another.

fZiiiiippppp!

fZiiiippppp!

fZiiiippppp!

fZiiiippppp!

He pulled the manhole cover back over, and dropped, almost slipping in the muck.

"Wolves, MOVE! On the double! ETA has been moved up!"

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Bullets, beams, bombs, and broken pieces of their surroundings flew randomly like a tornado wind. Scorpion lowered himself to one knee and shouldered his DLT-19, kicking the box behind him to protect it.

The rifle kicked hard but with the intense battle he ignored the pain. Wide blasts barreled through the air, imploding the chest plate of a soldier and knocking the head clear off another.

Too sluggish. He tossed the rifle aside and traded it for the A280 Armor Piercing Blaster. He looked around. Although he was in the middle of the floor he wasn't an easy target since not many troops were stupid enough to stay in the center. He ducked behind the nearest pillar. Stupid or brave?, he said to himself. He ignored his own thoughts and went back out into the center again. Stupid.

Tohmahawk and that Ravenwing were taking out their good share of troops. He could see James nail one right between the eyes, and the woman send one sprawling with a gut shot.

Scorpion leveled the blaster and aimed for a trooper that ducked behind a tall vase, cracked and worn. He fired and the bolt broke clean through the porcelain and into the man's knee. He yelped in pain and fell onto the floor, where he was caught halfway with a second shot.

He checked the troops coming in. They weren't firing. A cylinder spiraling smoke behind it seemed to pounce over their heads. Tohmahawk and Ravenwing weren't in range, but it was headed straight for him!

"Oh @#%$!"

BOOM!!! The explosion threw him back like a bullet.

Everything seemed to happen in slow motion. James was yelling and looking where Scorpion used to be. Ravenwing was firing at the soldiers, who seemed to stroll in like tortoises. The box! He reached out with the Force and the small box shot to his arms a nanosecond before he hit. Right into the back wall of a turbolift. He slumped to the floor and dropped the box between his legs.

"Damn I'm lucky."

Then he noticed the pain.

"Damn I'm hurt."

Sparks flew from the turbolift control panel and the doors closed. A hum followed as the turbolift started to go up.

"Ooo. Damn I'm lucky again."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya ducked behind a marbled pillar as the Chiss opened fire on the approaching troops. She cursed and bumped into a soldier as she slid around the pillar. His eyes widened at the sight of her, and she plugged him in the chest with a blaster bolt. Frell.

She remained calm, her third eye feeding her information to guide her actions, so that not one was wasted. Troops were running towards them, taking up positions in the lobby. Arya was aware that the NR offical was attracting the most attention, which would only lead to his death. She yelled, and squeezed off three shots, hitting the foremost soldier and the two to the left and right of him as she darted forwards, and then around the next pillar. Chips of the marble flew around her, one embedding itself in her cheekbone.

Left. In front of her was a soldier, taking aim across the room at the Chiss. Arya kicked him in the back, throwing his aim off, and spun around to kick him in the face as he turned. The trooper was knocked into the pillar, and the woman grabbed his rifle from the floor, shooting him in the chest. She ducked around the other side to the pillar, rifle firing into another soldier.

A man grabbed her from behind, and she dropped the rifle at her feet, pulling the carbine to her hand without thought and shooting him off her back. With a flip of her foot the rifle was airborne, and she snatched it out of the air, running towards the next pillar. Arya clubbed a soldier with the rifle, knocking him down. She knelt beside him, stripping him of a military issue knife, and threw it with deadly accuracy between another trooper's eyes. He stopped in his tracks, gurgled, and fell bonelessly to the floor.

Arya saw the grenade in her mind's eye, and threw herself down behind a body to protect herself from flying shrapnel. Leaping to her feet, she snatched up a multi-burst blaster which had been dropped, liberally spraying the door with fire. The soldiers kept coming... She ducked behind the pillar again, switching powercells with a blaster that wouldn't be used by its owner anymore.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

He heard the grenade being thrown and saw it bounce towards Scorpion.

“ssshhhhiiiiiiiITTTT!!!”

He didn’t pause, throwing himself behind a pillar a millisecond before the device exploded, blowing shrapnel everywhere. Tohmahawk waited for the worst of the pieces to stop falling before looking up to see the lift doors closing and Scorpion inside. He had a feeling his friend was okay. Maybe Jyanis would get out of this mess…

Belatedly, he realised he wasn’t alone taking shelter. There was a man in a cloak, obviously quite startled by the General’s presence. Tohmahawk snatched up his guns and to his surprise, found them flicked from his hands.

“What the….” He could have sworn the other man hadn’t moved! Reacting fast, a hand dipped down and ripped out his much prided Rail Guns, sticking into the nose of the other. “WHO THE HELL ARE YOU!?!”

The other man paled. “G-u-rney Devries….”

“Who taught you to use the Force?”

A renewed wave of blaster denied the answer as both men sprawled on the ground as pieces of pillar rained down.

“Ummm.. excuse me?”

Tohmahawk looked up at the man “WHAT?!! If you don’t shut up, I’ll throw you out there as a decoy!”

“Sorry.. I can….”A partularly sustained burst made them duck again “… help you”

“How? Spit at them?”

“Combat instructor….”

Combat instructor? And a Force sensitive? Something in Tohmahawk’s mind told him this man could be trusted. “Allright Devries, I’m General Tohomahawk, NRSF. Your either on my side or your dead. What’s it going to be?”

“Got a gun to spare General?”

This could be suicide, but he was sure it wasn’t. He whipped out a carbine and handed it over. “Consider yourself on…..” Tohmahawk sensed rather than saw the troopers approaching. Reacting fast, he leaned out, aiming the rail gun in one hand, bolstering it in the other. His thumb twisted the power dial to max, then pulled the trigger.

CRACKBANGSPLAT!

CRACKBANGSPLAT!

CRACKBANGSPLAT!

The rail gun spat three projectiles, one for each trooper. The barrel hummed as the magnetos fired, accelerating the bullet up to mach 5 muzzle velocity, he report like a whipcrack. The projectile hit each target dead square in the chest, the hollow point deforming and doing great damage, before the explosive payload detonated, blowing the bodies into a fine spray and leaving nothing more than legs and arms. Tohmahawk turned his head, but still got sprayed by gore. Devries gaped.

“What the hell… can I have one?!?”

“You got one. Over and under, over is a 250 shot blaster, under is a 40 shot Rail Gun. Here’s some ammo…. Now get moving. We get out of this, we have a chat about future service. Agreed?”

“Sir!”

Tohmahawk leaned out, firing five more times. Two shots blasted a desk into splinters, plus anything behind it, the other three shots blowing troops to red mist. Pulling his second Rail Gun out, he began to advance, firing sparingly. But with projectiles that had the effective punch of a grenade, it didn’t take many shots for the opposing forces to begin to retreat. Echoing explosions snapped at their heels, a bullet detonated on a wall, blasting a hole and spraying the area with more shrapnel. He saw Ravenwing take cover as he pointed and fired on someone dumb enough to pop up out of cover. The bullet struck a power pack, turning the immediate few meters into a fireball. She looked up after the last pieces fell to ground, giving Tohmahawk a disgusted look. “GROSS!” She yelled

He supposed it was. Having cooked flesh rain on you probably wasn’t an enjoyable experience. Advancing and ducking behind a pillar, he leaned over again, emptying the clips at the front doors, where most of the opposition were retreating or already gone through. He then ejected the empty clips, slamming the butts down to his belt onto the quick release clip holders. The guns accepted the new ammo loads, the auto mechanism chambering a round. Tohmahawk turned around the pillar, heard rather than saw Devries firing and Ravenwing too. He advanced to the next pillar, now intent on making it outside.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

The annoying turbolift music rang in his ears. The kind that only hotels and inns played. He craned his neck in an effort to sit up straighter.

"Oh, this is worse then the grenade."

He lifted the A280 in his hand and and blew a hole through the intercom below the broken control panel. The music skipped and wavered, then dissipated. Scorpion struggled to push the blaster back into its holster. Having done so, he looked down at himself. The grenade had not hit him directly. If that were the case he'd be dead, but it had exploded near in front of him, ripping the shirt beneath his vest to a tattered mess. Blood matted the plush beige carpet under him. Most of his wounds cauterized instantly, and only some of the worse still bled.

"I've been charbroiled to perfection," he muttered.

He heard the high pitched ring before the doors opened to the second floor. Four soldiers stood in front of him, their backs turned. One in the back closer to him, and another three in a line about a meter more away.

Scorpion ripped a concussion grenade from his vest and tossed it out. It made a clink and rolled out in front of the lone trooper. He turned around with a startled look on his face just as Scorpion dropped to his back and jammed his heel into the control panel. The doors began to close and he gave a little wave, "Sorry. Wrong floor."

A muffled explosion and brief yelling could be heard when he was safely away. The turbolift didn't stop until the fifth floor. Scorpion made sure he had everything and rolled himself onto the floor before the doors closed behind him. He braced himself and stood up, despite the pain. Grabbing the Railgun he'd loved during target practice, he clutched his side and jogged down the corridor to the right.

[Gurney Devries]

"Chaos. This is sheer, utter chaos.", Gurney thought to himself, in silent awe of the battle that he was now a part of.

Tohmahawk seemed to be cleaving a path right through the enemy troops, making steady progress for the exit. The invading soldiers were still pressing just as hard as when they'd first began, but it was obvious that they were losing confidence. Obvious to any veteran of combat, that is. The invading troopers were a good deal more cautious now, giving the trio of gun wielding maniacs a wide berth of room to manuever in.

Although he had never handled a weapon quite like the Rail Gun that the NRSF General had handed him, he found that it wasn't all too different from standard blasters weapons. There was a bit of a kick to it, though, and that took some getting used to. But once he compensated for that, Gurney was raining hell upon the advancing troops with the best of them. He found that short and rapid bursts of fire struck a nice balance for both conserving ammo and making sure that his shots hit their targets. Whenever he could, he tried to incapacitate the soldiers in lieu of killing them.

deRRRRRRaaRRRRaaRRRRaRRRRaaaa... deRRRRaaRRRRaaRaaaa...

Short, controlled bursts. The last spread of gunfire took out a good three men before Gurney had to duck around an outcropping and reload. He took the opportunity to catch his breath while he had the chance, only then noticing the warm trickle down the side of his head. Numbly, he lifted one hand to the wound that he knew was going to find there. It was about 3 inches long, and had bits of plaster and permacrete embedded into it. Annoying, but very much negligible.

Composing himself once again, Gurney turned back around the small corner, the gun in his hand sweeping upwards for some reason that totally eluded him...

Until he saw the small metal object flying right towards him.

His perception of time skidded to an crawl as the metal orb grew increasingly larger in his view. Without even thinking, he flicked the switch on the side of the Rail Gun, switching it to the "Under" setting, and squeezed the trigger. Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Gurney noted the utter lack of kickback the shot produced as it left the barrel of the gun. But his conscious mind was utterly focused on the explosive device heading for him. His shot connected, and the resulting explosion knocked him clear off his feet, sending his prone body crashing into the front desk. A loud "Crack" was clearly audible over the gunfire; Whether from the desk or himself, Gurney wasn't entirely sure. But he didn't have the time to spare to investigate wounds right now. That's a pleasure saved for when and if he lived through this. Which, he realized with a bit of morbid joy, he just might: If he was on top of the front desk, that meant that the exit was couldn't be more than a few yards away.

Pushing himself to his feet (his body protesting in pain the whole time), Devries caught a glimpse of three more soldiers making their way in the front door. Even as he raised the gun towards the middle-most grunt, a quiet voice in the back of his head was trying to remind him of something. No time to think, though. He pulled the trigger, holding it down for a fraction of a second. However, instead of the short burst of normal fire that he was growing increasingly accustomed to, five short shots without recoil flew from the gun. Simultaneously, all three men exploded into a mess of gore and individual showers of blood.

"Oops," Gurney said, sheepishly, as he realized that the Rail Gun was still on it's Under setting.

Not wanting to wait around and see just how many more foot soldiers whoever was in charge could throw at him, Devries mad a mad dash for the door, his tattered robes fluttering from the forced wind of his blindingly fast run.

[Nathan W3st]

Splosh splosh splosh splosh splosh splosh splosh.... a steadh drown of fourteen different sets of footsteps echoed through Arcan IV's old sewer system.

It had taken about 10 minutes to cover the rest of the way to that monumental fortress known as the Governor's mansion. The only way up they knew of was through the hardend ferrocrete and alloy plating.

"Well, at least we know where the hell we are. Now how do we get through that withou..."

Piter's words were interupted by a snap-hiss, the very distinctive sound of a lightsaber being turned on. West shoved the blueish blade into the plating at a fourty five degree angle, and walked a neat, slow circle. The plating fell to the floor with a loud plop, splashing up the muck in the sewer. Nathan shrugged it off, and continued to work his way through the three feet of reinforced ferrocrete. It took another eight minutes, which allowed the rest of the Wolves to catch their collect breath.

They formed a neat human ladder, and "Shorty" looked around.

"Clear." They gave a shove, and soon the squad was nearly up into the otherwise unnocupied basement.

Shorty crossed his arms across his chest.

"You know, we don't have a chance in hell of sneaking around this place."

"And why is that?"

"Because they will be able to smell us coming."

They didn't see anyone until the primary basement level, which wasn't much of a surprise. The engineer of the building had obviously not expected somone to slice through the bottom with a lightsaber, and so the bottom was a bit thinner. It was also very convient, and the Wolves were almost out of explosives by the time they got to the first guard.

Yvettez had neatly sliced open his throat, and hid the remains in one of the many, many empty supply crates present in the basement.

Progress from then on was far slower. Even for an experinced squad, sneaky around with fourteen people wasn't easy.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya leapt to her feet after being pelted with gore from Hunter's shot, and ran straight into another trooper. She put her head down, ramming him with her shoulder and knocking him off balance. A second soldier raised his blaster and shot at her, but she let her momentum carry her as she tucked into a roll, somersaulting and coming to a stop on one knee.

She extended her hand, carbine firmly gripped, and shot the trooper between the eyes. Arya glanced beside her, and saw the smoking holes where his fire had traced her movements. The woman threw her body behind the last pillar, and then she darted behind the front desk, shooting into the troopers who were still coming in the door.

Taking a second, Arya reached up and plucked the chip of stone out of her cheekbone as she heard the whump of a concussion grenade going off several floors above her. Plaster from the ceiling showered her, and she coughed a cloud of white dust...and then a trooper vaulted over the desk and landed beside her.

She froze, and he stiffened in surprise, neither expecting the other. Then he pointed his blaster at her, and she grabbed the barrel with her hand, pushing it to the side with a grunt as it went off, the bolt whizzing by her ear. Arya shoved her carbine into his armpit, bypassing the saftey vest he was strapped into , and shot into his chest cavity. He yelled horribly, but she was occupied with the palm of her hand as he died.

The blaster muzzle had burned her flesh, and she blew on the wound as she peeked around the desk at the front door, only yards away.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion jogged along the green tile floor, the Railgun in his right hand and the box being held by his left, dragging along behind. He stared aimlessly ahead, not sure what to do next. He should probably get to a room with a balcony and go from there.

Click click. Quickly, he dropped the box. Click click. The footsteps got louder. He pinned his back against the wall and held the gun out. Click click. Just about seven meters away was a turn to an adjoining hallway. Click click.

A trooper walked out and was blown into pieces by a single chest shot. More ran out. Four crowded the hallway around the remains of their fallen comrade and didn't even fire before Scorpion raked the pulsating handgun to and fro, sending off short bursts of three rounds, splattering blood and body parts against the walls. One man without a helmet stepped out, but ducked back behind the corner before he could shoot. Another man rushed out, turned and shot. Scorpion ducked and rolled forward, shooting a single hollow point projectile into his jaw, taking off the topmost of his frame.

The man without a helmet jumped out again, swinging his rifle around to aim. His target was closer than he thought, and Scorpion jammed the barrel of the Railgun into his neck. The man froze.

"Now, I don't seem to remember how many shots I fired. Could've been twenty, or it could've been nineteen. So you gotta ask yourself, do you feel lucky... punk?"

Now where have I heard that before? he wondered to himself.

The man gritted his teeth and swung his arm the rest of the way, quickly tightening his finger on the trigger, but not before losing his head. Scorpion watched the smouldering mess fall to the ground. He ejected the empty clip in favor of a fresh one, picked up the box again, and stepped over the soldiers.

He made it to the other end of the level without any trouble, and decided that since this end looked to be more decorative. It would likely be the one with balconies. He chose the closest metal door, and dropped the box and set the Railgun down on top of it. He eased back against the opposite wall and charged, slamming his shoulder into the metal. It bent, but didn't budge. He tried again. This time it released from the wall and fell into the room. He smiled with satisfaction, but the situation turning upside down again. It was a utility room, with no other exit besides the one he broke.

"Oh for kriffing sake."

Scorpion stepped back out and shuffled the box along the floor with his foot to the next door. He rubbed his sore shoulder and repeated the process. He charged into the door, his shoulder increasing in pain. He tried again, and again, and again. He placed his hand on the handle and the door easily opened a crack. Groaning in disbelief, he picked up the box and grabbed his gun, walking towards the half opened door and kicking it in the rest of the way.

There, a window and another door. Scorpion walked in across the carpet to the other side, tossing the box out the door. He stepped out halfway then leaned back in, seeing the human woman sitting up in bed with her sheets pulled up to her neck. He grinned and went back out onto the balcony.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Frell, frell, FRELL! Arya turned towards the desk, and got hit in the head with a falling bit of the roof. She cursed, and the chunk fell on the floor beside her, resting on her thigh. The woman rubbed the back of her head, and then scrunched against the desk as blaster fire came alarmingly close to her shelter.

There was a slight click, and Arya looked down in surprise. The object that had struck her was not from the ceiling. It was a medpac which must have been stored in one of the cabinets above and behind the counter. It was also shot to hell.

Arya shoved the dead body over, and rifled through the scattered meds. There was a semi decent strip of synflesh that wasn't dirty or riddled with holes, and she slapped it on the palm of her hand, covering the blaster burn. After a few seconds it adhered and formed to her contour of her hand.

She peeked around the desk, and darted behind the potted plants, which now appeared to be very cheesy fakes. The pots were tall and wide, however, and that was all that mattered. Arya tipped a plant over onto a soldier, and got grabbed from the side by another. She threw herself to the side, barely avoiding being shot in the head as she kicked his blaster arm in the middle, breaking his elbow.

The trooper fell, screaming, and then she shot him in the head, and sprinted for the door.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

He ducked around the next pillar, fired again. The door he was aimong for blasted outwards, sending splinters in all directions. Now with two pillars left, he had to make a choice... run for it or stay. Running right now had it's attractions. With some advance firing, he could probably make a clean break outside and get some real fighting room. ut he didnt know what was outside.

He could stay inside and barricade - but one detonator to the building and it could be bought down onto him. Allright.....

"RAVENWING! DEVRIES!!! WE'RE OUT OF HERE!!!"

He came swing around the corner and fired the rail guns, emptying the clips out the door. Howls and explosions sounded and rocked the building, he barely paused to kick down oa trooper as he accelerated for the door. Tohmahawk dived as he made the entrance, sliding in the ground as he made the outside, pulling loose his final loaded weapon and droppong the rail guns at his feet, tumbling into a crounch.

The rail gun barrage he just did worked. The troops were still recovering from the unexpected firepower, as he pointed the shotgun and fired. A huge hole erupted in a guard's chest, Tohmahawk reloaded one handed and fired again, his other hand picking up one of the rail guns, ejecting the clips and slamming in a quick load from his belt. The shotgun was reslung, he began to fire with the rail gun, grabbing the other and reloading that as he he did the first.

Your going to die if you dont use it

Shut UP!!! If you dont leave and get out of my head, I'll die HERE!

Use it. You will only live if you do

Never!

Use it.

NO!!!! I never walk that path!! Never!

He gritted his teetha s a shot grazed his arm and returned fire, beginning to move to where a blown up speeder lay, for cover

[Darth Turbogeek]

Turbogeek watched appalled as the armed men barged into the inn where Arya was. More troops were surrounding the area, also shooting other beings, the reason totally eluding the young man why it was happening. He shrank back into the shadows, hoping against hope that Arya would be allowed to walk out. But something in his head said that wasn’t going to happen… Blaster fire sounded inside the building, answered with something else. Several loud and rapid explosions. A loud crump shook the building.

The was a ominous silence before a wall had a hole blasted into itin spectaclar manne, shrapnel mowing down anything near the detonation. From there on, it was hard to follow what was going on, with several more bangs, screams, plus a new sound which he had no idea what it was. Like a thunderclap. But whatever was going on, the men outside were suddenly not happy. Some who had gone in ran out like their pants were on fire, one man, with some sort of headset on was yelling into it

“I don’t give a damn… get us backup here! They have some sort of …. No I never seen this before! Just get here!”

Turbogeek almost cheered. It seemed the troops had been given a nasty surprise and maybe even Arya was the one whom had done it….. with incredible violence, the doors flamed and blasted to pieces, along with a good deal of the doorway, then followed by a speeder or two, seemingly without explaination. Or at least until a balck clothed man came out of the destruction of the front entrance, sliding and then coming up in what seemed like a suicidal move, a device in his hand. It suddenly let out a huge boom, a trooper’s chest being blown to mush. He saw the man do something with the boomstick, then use it again. Another object appeared, this time Turbogeek could identify it as a large hand gun. Except this gun sounded very odd and did a lot more damage than it’s size suggested. Turbogeek, used to seeing the colours of all the beings he came across (greys, dark for Dark Jedi and light for Jedi) suddenly realised this man had no colour.

“Oh no…” His heart seemed to freeze. He had met this man one once before and only escaped with his life by accident. The fact this one was colourless meant something he couldnt explain and it terrified him to his deepest part of his soul. He shrank back into his cover, wishing this man would just simply go away before he saw Turbogeek.

He even forgot about Arya as he saw The Man With No Colour take cover behind a burning speeder. Turbogeek got ready to run his ass off.

[Gurney Devries]

They tried to stop him, they really did. And to their credit, Gurney was battered and tired. The firefight was brief, and he was relatively unharmed, but as the adrenaline drained out of his system he felt his strength begin to wane. He didn't even bother shooting the men holding up shields by the front door, opting instead to simply shove his way past them.

Although he'd never admit it, the combat instructor loved the feel of an actual battle. It had been what felt like ages since he'd last been in a real struggle for his life. It was only on the battlefield, living in the time between moments, did he ever really feel truly alive. And as the moment passed, the tension of it all draining away from him, Gurney Devries was touched by a feeling of regret. Whether because it was over, or because he was still alive remained a mystery. Sometimes, he found himself wishing that he didn't have just the right mixture of skill and luck that had kept him breathing this long.

He shot past the few remaining troops in a flurry of motion, so fast, it seemed, that they didn't even notice him. Or perhaps they were writing him off as a civilian - unassociated with their real targets. If that was the case, then they were being sloppy. Even a nobody like him knew that it wasn't wise to leave anyone alive on an expidition like this. Well, let them learn that the hard way.

Just down the street, out of the direct line of sight, he could see Tohmahawk stopped around a corner, reloading his Rail Guns. Useful things, they were; Gurney made a mental note to thank the General for the loaned weapon even as he dashed to catch up with him.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce stared in puzzled concern at the tactical holo.

Everything had gone quiet except for the Crouching Tiger subdivision. That one square just wouldn't stop flashing.

Pierce keyed the comm for a necessary update. "Olar, what the frag is going on down there? Why haven't you managed to pacify that area?"

Olar's voice was strained when it came through the comm. "There are several escapees who are heavily armed," he stated. "They're making a slaughterfest of our troops and police units. Some of them are doing things that- that I've never seen."

Sonofa- "Jedi!" he snarled, keying for a wideband communication. "All available support, report to the Daig District and take up encirclement formation. There is a major firefight going down with suspected Jedi involvement. Assisting units are advised to take all available precautionary measures."

This was a fine mess, wasn't it? And with the Governor behind him, cameras on him, and the unspoken threat of what would happen to Pierce if he lost too many men in this op, there was potential for a very big problem.

Add his personal dislike for casualties, and there was a great deal of pressure in the mix.

Hopefully, Pierce could come out of it without losing himself as he had in the past.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion looked over the edge to the streets below. They were filled with soldiers and debris. Fire engulfed a section of the hotel. Then, he saw a familiar figure. Tohmahawk! He made it out! Where was the woman though? He assured himself that she made it, or would make it.

"Uh oh..." He saw Tohmahawk go down behind a busted speeder. A few troops started to circle around it. Immediately, Scorpion knelt down beside the toy he had been waiting to use. He flicked the tabs on the box and lifted the lid open. Sorting through the protective plastifoam, he pulled out two smaller cases and a mammoth weapon, inappropriately named the Minigun.

It was about a meter long and half a meter high and wide. A small spot in the back allowed for the insertion of one of the two smaller ammo cases. He shoved one in and pulled the weapon up onto the edge of the balcony and set it down, holding the topside button until the the weapon clamped firmly onto the side. Giving it a test nudge so it swiveled all the way around, the handle rested into Scorpion's right palm. He rested his left hand on top of the gun and his shoulder against the back of the ammo case.

"Some assembly required."

Scorpion stood up, lowering the aim of the Minigun to the streets below, and squeezed the trigger hard. It kicked back like a mule, but he held his ground, spraying shells and blowing the hell out of the permacrete street under him. He sweeped the bullet fire across the ground. The soldiers on the street exploded and splattered out in a circular area. The shots moved like lightning, small craters being blown into the street. Many still concentrated on Tohmahawk, but a third of them turned their attention to Scorpion, directing red bolts of energy at his balcony. He ducked down for a quick breather, then leaned his head back over and kept firing. He pulled back as more fire filled the air. Peeking over, he felt a bolt whizz by his ear. Reaching out with the Force, he concerned himself with the six soldiers that took cover behind a roadblock. Their rifles were plucked from their grasps and flung up over the hotel. He grinned and sat back against the wall of the hotel. He sensed them before he heard them, "Hey, he's down here!"

About two floors up a trio of troopers opened fire from a balcony at the other end of the building. Scorpion quickly spun the Minigun up and to the right and let the bullets fly.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

The firefight was just getting hotter and hotter. Shots spanged off the wreck of the speeder, the crack of the rail gun responding. Tohmahawk he would have to run for it, but he also wanted to make sure Ravenwing, Devries and Jyanis got out of the hot zone as well. Hence, he stayed there, trading off shots between himself and the troops. Soon though, he would have no choice, his ammo would run low. Tohmahawk decided he would bug out when he reached his last clips.

C’mon Jyanis… where the hell are you??

Look up

Puzzled, Tohmahawk was about tho throw a quick look when the street seemed to explode. Rapid fire explosions, hail of shrapnel cut the place to pieces, with a huge crash a balcony collapsed, taking out the lover balconies as it fell.

“@#%$ ….me……..”

He just had his jaw open, staring. That could only be Jyanis and that could only be the Minigun raining destruction. “Bloody hell… I gotta get me one of those things!”

Ha. We’ll get out of this one yet

You’ll die if you don’t use it

Bite me.

You must. You wont live unless you do.

I said I don’t care. I would rather die

You must use it or others will suffer

I might have to listen to this damn voice in my head – now that’s suffering. How about you bug someone else?

You must use it.

Tohmahawk shook his head. Damn it, he would see the medics to get rid of these voices. That or a holiday.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Frell! Arya felt the concussion from the detonator, and was knocked off her feet. She had almost made it out the front door, but it was now completely demolished from the explosion. The woman curled up under the silk plant which had fallen on her, and waited for the debris to settle. Hunter had blown out a section of wall near the door, knocking out a few of the pillars in the lobby at the same time.

Arya scrambled to her feet, cut and scratched from the explosion. Damn men. Always have to blow something up. The lobby was eeriely calm and quiet, except for the crackle of flames. She could hear the firefight continuing outside. Pulling a blaster rifle out of a dead soldier's hands, Arya stalked to the smoking crater and the hole in the wall. At the bottom of the pit was a man's forearm and hand, flaming, its fingers twitching involuntarily.

She jumped down into it, not caring that she was covered with blood and dust. Blaster fire splatted over her head, and she ducked low, crawling on her belly up the other side of the burning hot crater. Hunter was crouched behind a speeder, shiny rail guns clutched in either hand. He looked like hell.

With a heave Arya rolled out of the crater and behind a chunk of duracrete, clothes smoking. The sights and sounds of the battle assailed her ears, and overwhelmed her mind's eye. She caught a glimpse of a man running away from the scene- Turbogeek! -and then she had to depend on her own two eyes for her information. Peeking around her cover, she sighted, and shot, killing another trooper.

In answer to that, his buddies targeted her block of 'crete for assault. Arya cowered behind it, hoping it would last long enough for her to find another place to run to. A lull in the fire gave her a chance, and she took it, popping up and dashing to another bit of cover.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

The soldiers assumed they could avoid danger if they ducked down, but they were wrong. Scorpion focused all fire at the low rear of their balcony, blowing away permacrete and steel supports, sending the whole thing tumbling down onto everything below, troops and all.

He sprayed bullets at the roadblock, where the half dozen troopers had pulled out short range pistols. No danger for him, but could cause trouble for those on the ground. The roadblock was being torn to pieces, as were the men behind it. He released his finger from the trigger and allowed the accelerators to cool down slightly.

The window shattered behind him and the air heated dramatically. Scorpion peered up over the balcony across the street, where on the fifth floor of the opposite building, four soldiers had shot through a window and were crouched low, making well placed shots around him. He reached back and pulled the mini rocket launcher off his back, then pulling out a small six inch missile from the case strapped to his back.

Carefully, he inserted it and flicked the safety off. Another blaster bolt singed his cheek. He gritted his teeth and jumped up with the rocket launcher on his shoulder and fired. A line of light grey smoke and a random flame bursts stretched across the skyline.

The following explosion was incredible. Fire balls spewed outward. Burning permacrete and glass debris flew down to the streets below. The soldiers flailed wildly through the air, slamming down onto the structural chunks before them.

Scorpion set the rocket launcher down and grabbed the Minigun again, ripping ammo into the building to be sure he got everything.

[Pierce Tondry]

That one damned square refused to stop blinking.

"It appears," Desmond Yevyss stated more for the cameras than for anything else. "That our criminal problem is one that we cannot simply throw manpower at and cause it to go away."

Pierce gritted his teeth. "If only I could see the satellite feed and know what was going on-" he growled.

"Well, why don't you activate the feed, General Jax?" Yevyss suddenly turned to him.

As though he were suddenly in the middle of a firefight, Pierce relaxed. "Because those cameras there will broadcast what we're looking at out to the entire city," he stated, as though he were calmly discussing the weather. "That kind of knowledge is completely and totally unadviseable to transmit publicly."

"Well, General," the Governor's tone had a frosty edge to it. "This is your operation. If you believe it wise to continue to follow this course of action, it is your prerogative. Just don't lose too many of my men."

Don't lose too many of my men. Frustration bubbled in Pierce, but he kept it checked. "I don't believe it wise to continue this course of action, but it is well within the criteria you set for an acceptable scenario, especially for a such a potent counterattack. If there were another way that did not involve destruction of property, gratuitous loss of soldiers, or civilian life, I would be glad to hear it."

"The solution, General," Yevyss said calmly. "Is your job. I can no more think tactics than I can breathe in space."

Pierce bit back a reply. Anything he said now would not come across well, not in the midst of the situation, not with cameras on the both of them.

How could he solve the problem short of levelling the area?

"I will solve the problem," a caustic voice stated over the comm. "Gunnery- target the affected area and fire."

Yevyss and Tondry both stared at the comm. "Jeger, no!" Pierce shouted. "We've got troops in the area!"

But it was too late. Outside the compound, turbolaser fire could be heard hitting the ground from the Star Destroyers in orbit.

And inside the compound, Pierce Tondry prayed for the souls of the men temporarily under his command.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Peteeeuuuuooooooooo! Giant green blasts rained down. Most of them missing the hotel. Craters filled the block, smoke billowing everywhere. All the shooting stopped as those both sides of the battle watched the beams seemingly fall from the sky.

Scorpion dropped his hand from the Minigun and stared, watching the destruction rain down. The gunners were apparently starting to check their fire, and the blasts were getting closer to him. He looked around frantically. Too long to go through the hotel. Too high to jump. Worse than both was to climb.

He ripped open a pouch in his utility belt and pulled out a small black gadget, with a pulley system with a tight cord wrapped around it, and a spike at each end. Stepping back quickly, he jammed the rear spike into the outside wall, then carefully aimed the front spike at the hole he blew into the opposite building. He fired, and it shot straight across the street and clung to the back wall in the room. Next, he pulled down hard on the handle. It extended and split to the sides both ways, forming a bar.

Scorpion leaned down to unhook the Minigun, when another shot slammed into the other end of the hotel, demolishing it and throwing him off his feet. He straightened himself and lifted the Minigun up, folding in the clamp and pulling out two strap handles. Swiftly he slipped his arms into them, so he held onto the weapon as it pointed forward. The green blasts got closer. He grabbed the bars and jumped off the balcony.

In a blur, the pulley activated and he shot down the cord over the debris filled street below. He twisted his frame to look behind him just as the topside of the hotel was destroyed, right down to the second floor. His gaze traveled down the wire to the spike in the wall.

"Ah, son of a --" The spike broke and the cord snapped. He swung down, clinging to the handle. The opposite building grew larger and larger. SMASH! He busted through the window of the third floor and skidded across the room into the wall with a loud thud, shattered glass following in his wake. Scorpion held onto the Minigun like he was protecting a child.

"I swear, I'm getting insurance when I get home."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya tumbled into a row of garbage cans, sending them crashing all over the place. And then the first turbolasers began lancing down on the area. The first strike hit in the center of the street, creating a crater which swallowed speeders and troopers alike as the green laser took no sides. A second, and a third fell from the sky, deafening her and slamming her to the ground with the sheer force of impact. There was a momentary lull in fire, and she pulled herself up, ignoring the sporadic blaster bolts around her, and dashed away from the wall of the hotel, straight for the middle of the street.

"Get down!" Someone was shouting at her, but she paid no heed. Arya took three steps and then the hotel exploded behind her, the concussion blast sending her flying through the air. Her third eye gave her a brief vision of herself, arms and legs flailing as she soared, and then she crashed to the street, scraping her exposed skin badly.

She dragged herself into a sitting position, holding her head as blood poured from her ears. There were men running through the streets, and commanders screaming, trying to keep some semblance of order. But it was too late. Turbolasers lanced down again, a little further down the street, sending Hunter scrambling. Arya blinked. Maybe it wasn't Hunter she was seeing.

Something in black, though. She lightly shook her head, completely dazed, and struggled to her feet. Whatever it was, it was coming towards her. Or was it? Her third eye was showing her something that seemed familiar to her, like... She frowned as the blurry black thing darted straight into the air above her.

Arya raised her head, staring at the sky, where there was nothing, yet she tracked the thing with her mind's eye. Around her the soldiers were making an effort to attack again, and blaster bolts splatted at her feet and whipped past her body, some grazing her ripped clothes. The sound of a turbolaser zapping through the atmosphere was heard, and less than a split second later another green laser streaked down from the heavens.

The woman saw it all in slow motion, the laser was coming down right on her head. The black object, a vision from the future or the past, disappeared as the laser passed through it. And then, everything got strange. Arya blinked, and spread her arms out, attempting to evade, but there wasn't enough time.

She gathered her legs under her, and pushed off with her feet, faster than light as the turbolaser blasted into the permacrete under her. Arya blinked against the green flash, and felt like she was flying. Am I dead?

To the troopers, it appeared that she was. But a large black raven flew like the wind away from the blast crater, through a broken window across the street, landing in a mess of feathers and blood.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Watching Jyanis use that Minigun was a joy. The soldiers were forgetting about his existence, especially with a weapon that did so much destruction. “And here I was thinking my Rail Guns were good” he muttered. But at least with this was now beginning to clear a way out of this hole. A barricade was blasted to pieces, which seemed like a good cue for Tohmahawk to get the hell out of here. Ravenwing, Devries, Scorpion and himself were split up now and it was every person for themselves. Although, maybe he could get down the street and set up a covering fire position, then the three of them could link up and make a combined break…?

Then again it wasn’t just Scorpion who set up surprises. Even with the Wolves on the planet, there was still other backup…. He took out a comm. link, placing one of the guns on the ground as he did so, dialled up the code he wanted, then spoke.

“Yub Yub. Get to it Rancor”

He clicked off, ducking as a few shots came in his direction. The comm. link was dropped, he picked up the Rail gun…

And was damn near deafened and blinded by a green blast of fury. He blinked back the spots out of his eyes in surprise, before another shattering thunderclap from behind made him cringe. Realisation came quickly as a buiding detonated up the street as a result of a third blast. He came up straight, not caring if he was now exposed in his total and complete shock. The nerfherders! They were firing turbolasers into the area, and killing their own men! Not daring to believe anyone would do this, he just stood transfixed as the hell from above rained down. This was completely wrong. The person in command of the turbolaser fire wasn’t a soldier, he was nothing more than scum….

Use it

Oh yeah? Against this? You must think I’m a bigger idiot..

You can stop it

It’s a frigging TURBOLASER.

You can still stop this. Use it. Don’t…

Shut UP!

Use it…

I’ld die first!

So you will… but it’s not your time. Use it


With some cursing, he rid his head of that damn cool and calm voice. Damn it, that’s all he needed now. But still he had to stop his hand from reaching out and touching the bundle that was strapped to his back. Damn it, why did he bring it?

Because you have to…

Sit here and listen to some fucknit of a voice in my head. Why don’t you @#%$ off and pester someone else, I’m going to stay alive without you…

He was powered into actions the Crouching Tiger was bought down on itself by finally a aimed shot. Hot shrapnel sprayed the area, Tohmahawk going to ground and dropping the guns as he covered his head. Something hot slammed into his hands, bouncing off. The pain seared his nerves as he could smell his skin, fried. Adrenaline was the only thing driving him as he got up, looked at the back of his hands. By the burns, he was going to be spending sometime in a tank to fix that. He bit his lip as the pain burned his system…

Quite suddenly, he got a flash of preminition. He looked up, knowing what he had to do, but he knew he was never going to get up in time to run for it.. He knew somehow his death was coming from above, that one of those green blots was coming and it was going to fry him. He just stared as he could see in his mind’s eye as the beam shot down, he could see exactly where it was going to hit. He stretched out a hand and muttered “No….”

The universe seemed to explode into green fire as the bolt struck the speeder Tohmahawk was near. The blast picked him up like a leaf and sent his body flying, the shock wave ripping at his clothes. His rail guns vaporised, he felt the heat blast at him. He smacked the ground and mercifully, and as his head collided with something and as the flames overtook him, he knew his death would be painless and quick.

I die free of the curse at last! It’s over! There is no more!

The voice in his mind stayed silent… but as blackness took him, his last vision was of a young girl, whispering to him as he lead her from someone chasing them both. “Will you always protect me?” she said as they both ran from the terror that was chasing them

Somehow, even as he died, he knew he was failing to keep the promise he made….

And then he was no more.

[Pierce Tondry]

"Son of a bitch."

The words were spoken with a quiet deadliness and determination that somehow made the entire room go silent.

Pierce turned on the camera-wielding civilians. "This is now a classified military operation," he stated. "You have ten seconds to leave. LEAVE!"

The final shouted word sent the publicity crew scampering for the door. "Wait," Governor Yevyss started, trying to keep them around and maintain some semblance of personal face.

But Pierce interrupted him. "Shut up."

Yevyss drew himself up, no doubt to issue some well-stated comment that would swing the situation back his way.

Pierce had no intention of allowing it. He took hold of the Governor's lapel and lifted him bodily into the air. He walked to the nearest wall and slammed the man into it. "This is my operation now," he stated in the same calm voice he'd argued in earlier. "If you say anything to interrupt me without a good reason, I will break your damn neck and bury your useless, nixpaynt body where no one will ever find it."

His hand let go of the Governor of Arcan IV, who dropped a good two feet before his feet touched the ground. By that time, Pierce had already turned away and was calling up Admiral Filth over the comm. "Stop firing, damn you!" he shouted.

There was a pause. Outside the compound, the noise of turbolaser fire stopped. "He's ended it, sir," one of the sensor technicians stated. "And he's hailing us."

"What is the mean-"

"Shut your mouth, Jeger" Pierce snapped. "If I ever see you in person again, I will kill you. For the remainder of my employment on Arcan IV, you will never fire a turbolaser blast into a city where friendly troops are engaged unless I order it. General Olar," he said, switching frequencies. "What's your status."

"I'm fine, General Jax," came the reply. "Wounded, but no one is shooting at me now."

And what about the troops you were supposed to be commanding, Olar? What about their necks? Don't you give a damn that you just lost lives to someone's idiocy? "Get some details organized to sweep the area. We need a full casualty report ASAP, and we need to see who the hell was putting up so much resistance. This means I want prisoners."

Pierce cut the comm so abruptly, the switch almost snapped. "I have personal business to take care of," he said to no one in particular. "I'll be back."

[Nathan W3st]

Ten minutes later...

"We far enough?" West looked around, again in the miserable mucky-yuck of the sewers. They had made sure no-one would walk in on the explosives, and had cleared to a safe distance of 400 meters. away from the massive structure.

Olaf Joes, the quiet demolitions man, nodded. West nodded in turn, and Olaf removed a small metal box the size of a paperback. He pressed the latch, and opened it. He punched the detonate sequence into the keypad, lifted the "Detonate" button cover.

"Three... two.... one... fire in the hole" The red button was thummed. A quiet, distant rumble was heard.

West lifted the manhole cover, and peaked out.

"Loaf... its listing a bit to one side, but doesn't look like its going to topple. I think its pretty safe to assume that most communications is vapor, and I doubt it has power except for emergency lighting. How did you pull that one off?" West stated as he scampered back down the ladder.

Olaf shrugged in response.

"I guess I was too precise with my placement of the charges."

[Jyanis Scorpion]

He got up slowly, resting his arm on one knee, and groaned. The Minigun was undamaged, the ammo case pressed against his chest and the straps snug over his shoulders.

"Ooooh man... I'm applying for danger pay. Wait, I guess I'd have to apply for pay first."

Scorpion got up and leaned against the wall, patting the dust and broken glass. Pain shot through him like a thousand needles. At least one rib was broken, and it hurt like a bitch. He closed his eyes and relaxed himself, cancelling out most of the pain. The turbolaser fire had stopped, and he could see the fires that were raging in the streets, which meant that they were bad because he was on the third floor.

He stumbled to the door, out to the hallway - or what looked like a hallway. It was dirty enough to be a sewer pipe for all he knew - and looked around. There were several other doors lining the corridor, but he didn't need a room. He needed a way out. There was what looked like a fire exit at the end of the building, so he made his way down there. Scorpion shouldered the door open and sidestepped outside, high above an alley. He looked down to the discarded crates, smelling what could only be described as well, something bad.

"Wow, a suite with a view. What could be better?"

A red blast hit the stairwell beneath him. He looked up quickly to see two troops with long range rifles.

"Room service!"

The Minigun kicked hard against his broken rib, causing him to grunt. The bullets scattered across the grime coated alley, blowing the men down to the ground, indistinguishable from the rest of the slime. He sprinted down the stairs as fast as he could, the Minigun whirring as he let his finger off the trigger.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya groaned, and tried to move, but found herself too weak to lift an arm. She lay still a moment, ears ringing loud enough to drown out all but the loudest of sounds from the street. The turbolasers had stopped for the moment, and beside the ringing in her head, all was quiet.

The woman shuddered involuntarily, and then realized that she was naked. Tucked into a fetal position, her limbs finally found the will to move, and Arya crawled away from the outer wall, further into the building. It was evacuated, but was some sort of office building that had fallen into hard times. Besides that, everything in the rooms facing the streets had been shot to pieces.

She crawled on her belly to the next room, completely exhausted, and confused. I should be dead. Why am I alive? Arya could remember the turbolaser falling on her, and yet somehow it missed, and she was alive.

Where are my clothes? Arya pulled herself into a sitting position against a farther wall, and leaned wearily against it. The black shape...suddenly she knew what it had been. It was a raven. She sighed, and cracked her vertebrae to relieve some of the tension in her back. What it all meant was beyond her.

The ringing in her ears quieted, and Arya could hear the blaster fire renewing outside. She needed clothes, and she needed to get out of there. Right away.

[Darth Turbogeek]

He panicked and ran. Seeing the Man with No Colour was just too much for him. Bolting around a corner, he was suddenly blown off his feet by a horrific green flash that lit up the area. Turbogeek tumbled, rolled and came to a stop, scared beyond anything. Did the Man do this…? His answer came quickly as another green flash came from the sky, blasting stuff in it’s path. Stunned, he could only watch in horror as more beams from the sky struck the ground, destrying buildingis and making beings…. Disappear? Other lay on the ground, not moving. He just couldn’t believe it. Who had the power to do this?

His fright gave way to anger. This was just wrong. But there was nothing he could do about it, all he could do for now was take shelter, then try to find Arya, hopefully alive after all this. Maybe he would be lucky and the Man with No Color would die here.

Watching, still frozen, he saw a person flare into a brilliant white, then die out. He didn’t give this any thought, so engrossed was he seeing the death rain from above. However, something in the back of his mind was telling him to get off the street and finally, his legs obeyed him as he got up, running for a doorway, smashing the rotten wood as he shoulder charged in. The place immediately assulated him with the smells of rotten garbage – well, he hoped it was rotten garbage. He couldn’t imagine this stench coming from anything else. He quietly stepped inside further, the shadows making him disappear. The anger and the residue fear came away as he relaxed to a degree, as he knew by his senses that he was alone. And even better, the horrific bangs of the green flashes were finished. But blaster fire, much quieter started again, but not much and sporatic. There were a few other booms, but the sudden carnage of just a few minutes earlier was not happening by the sounds of it.

Turbogeek was a little curious even about what was going on. He had a bit of think.

Maybe….. maybe I could go upstairs, find a sheltered window and watch from somewhere they can’t see me? Then I can wait until everyone is gone, then go look around. If I cant find Arya, I’ll go back to the hotel and work out how to get home from there, he thought. Turbogeek considered the plan, then decided it was quite a good one, thence he went and found the stairs and with quick steps, he went up until he reached 6th floor. He tried the door, found it was unlocked and slipped inside, using all the stealth he could. The place was quiet and dark and because he seemed to be a fair way from windows, the noise from outside was stilled. The young man picked a direction, felt his way along the wall and then walked a hallway. Still moving with no noise, his hearing picked up something that made him freeze.

He heard it again. A human making some sound. Now on full alert, he flattened himself on a wall, pulling loose a knife he had grabbed before he had left the hotel for a weapon. Turbogeek slid along the wall, listening, reaching out with any sense he could, trying to work out this human’s intentions were. In absence of that, he heard a clunk as the human must have moved something. The sound even better pinpointed the location exactly – room across the hall. There was some light coming from in there, so he would presume that was where a window was. Heh, now what was someone else doing in here? It occurred to Turbogeek that they could well be doing what he was intending to do – watch and wait for escape. In that case….. unlikely to be a real threat. He placed his hands behind his back, hiding the knife and then did something that Arya could have told him was stupid – he brazenly walked in, dropping stealth.

The room was like an office, but more important, he was right. The WAS someone in here, sitting with…. Her? Back on the wall. He knew her gender because the woman, now looking at him rather startled was in fact naked.

Allright…. This is bizarre. What was a nude woman, with some injuries on her doing up here? But even more bizarre…

“ARYA?!?! What in anything’s name are you doing up here?!?! Would you mind getting some clothes on?”

And then one more and this one bought a smile to his face, which was still hidden by the cloak

“Did your date go well?”

[Arya Ravenwing]

"My date?" Arya beckoned him closer to her, and as he leaned towards her she grabbed his cloak, pulling it off him roughly. "It was hell. How's your day?" Carefully she shrugged into the cloak, getting painfully to her feet. He reached down and helped her up.

"Arya, what is going on out there? Are you okay?" He was confused and concerned, but very distracted. "Can we go?"

She nodded her stiff neck, "Yes, lets. Out the back way, please, and we need to stay off the main streets." He darted back out through the doors, completely leaving her behind in his haste to be rid of the place. "Don't mind me, I'll find the way myself." Arya followed him, her limbs protesting, but obeying her command to walk forward.

As she moved, her muscles limbered up again, but her skin was covered with burns, serious only because there were so many of them. The cloak was sticking to her body, and causing pain as she moved. Turbogeek was waiting for her at the bottom of the stairs. He pointed to the end of the hall. "Door."

Arya nodded slightly. "Right. Lets go then." He finally seemed to realize the shape she was in, but she waved off his concerned look. "There will be time for that later. Move!" He obeyed, and she followed him out the door, and into the smokey outdoors.

Twenty minutes later Turbogeek was carrying her into the hotel room, and laying her on the bed. Arya groaned, "Frelling... I'll be alright, I just need to rest a minute or two." She yawned sleepily, and her eyes closed by themselves.

[Gurney Devries]

He had made it no more than half way across the street when Armageddon broke out. Oh, some people might have called it just your standard Imperial Operation, some a little more than that. But it was raining Fire and Brimstone, and Gurney Devries was smack-dab in the middle of it. The thunderous sounds of the first several shots had barely reached his ears before he was overcome by a deafening roar. Green fire lanced through the sky and struck the ground just a few feet away from him. The whole thing reminded him, however briefly, of stories he'd heard of gods smiting ill-behaved mortals.

The thought barely had the chance to get a foothold in his mind, however, before one of the green thunderbolts struck the ground just a few feet away from him, sending the battered combat instructor flying through the air like a ragged doll. The heat was nothing short of incredible, and Gurney knew that he was going to have some nasty blisters all along his side by this time tomorrow.

Ha! That's assuming you'll live that long, old man.

His flight was short, and punctuated with a permacrete bitchslap as he collided with the street. For several seconds that seemed to span a lifetime, he was absolutely certain that his back was broken. He hadn't heard any of the distinctive cracks to indicate such a breakage, but it was damn near impossible to hear anything at all over the chaos around him. But as the Turbolaser fire drew closer, he haggardly forced himself first to his knees, then painfully to his feet. He wobbled for a few moments, steadying himself on the hood of a battered speeder. It seemed, for the moment, that he would have to put off returning the NRSF General's guns. There was no way in hell he was going to find him in this mess, if he was even still alive. In fact, he very much doubted that he would still be breathing in a few minutes as the laser blasts were starting to tighten accuracy.

He wanted to collapse right then and there. No real point in even trying; He could fight enemy troops all day long, but he couldn't even raise an arm in defense against this. He looked at the ground, thinking about how nice it would feel at this point to just drop back down and fall asleep. He probably wouldn't even have to worry about waking up. His eyes flickered across the manhole cover. "Make a nice pillow," he thought, grunting a laugh that was quite painful. Wait... vulk the pillow. That thing just might be his ticket out. Waiter, check please. I'm getting the kriffing hell out of here.

Dashing, almost collapsing towards the ground despite his resignation to not do so, Gurney began looking for a way to pry to cover open. It didn't take him long: it was already slightly ajar. He figured that all the tremors from the blasts had probably knocked it loose. He had it off and dropped down the hole in a matter of seconds. Just shortly up ahead, he could see an opening of some sort and, with little other choice, he started to make his way towards it, sloshing through the much and trying his hardest to breath through his mouth.

He didn't make it all the way over to the hole in the wall (Why did that sounds funny to him, for some reason?) before the men starting piling out. There were hardly more than a dozen of them, he thought, but that was plenty more than he was in any condition to handle. Still, he found a niche in the sewer wall and ducked into it quietly. He pulled out the Rail Gun from the belt that was holding his tattered robes together and crouched low to the ground, hoping they didn't notice him as they walked by. He sat, counted the seconds, and waited for them. And waited. At the count of 45, he heard a distant rumble instead of the nearby footsteps he had been expecting. A quick peek around the corner showed that they were still a ways down. This was 2. He put it together with the other 2, and figured that they had just blown something up real good. The tension in him released a little bit, but he continued to stay in a crouch and wait for them to come his way. Best not show your hand when you don't know what the opposition could be holding.

[Lord Fire Blade]

Sitting in the bar I had first seen this unexplained new Turbogeek, I had taken a table fairly much in the middle of the floor and I was there, still cloaked and disguised for some hours, just sitting there. It was as if I was a statue and I would guess it could have drawn attention to me if this place wasn’t such a dive anyway. I could well have been on some substance for all anyone knew. As long as they left me alone, that was all that mattered.

I had been there to think of the next course of action. This situation was basically unknown to me, so I was plotting what to do. Knowing that Pierce Tondry was here meant I had my suspicions on how this clone had come about and who was controlling it. I did not think that the clone and Tondry being on the same planet was an accident. I had to admit, it had some appeal the idea of a clone of a Jedi Master, to control. But the question is, how did you control one, even a clone built and moulded for your purposes? Clones were notoriously unstable and Force users especially so. I had been musing on this for some hours, when my thoughts were interrupted by a change in the programming of the holoviewplate. Some sort of special programming, live the voice said. I grunted, unimpressed. They always said that, trying to make it important. The pompos fart of the Governor of this dump came on, gabbling on about crime and yadayadayada. Boring.

I was about to dismiss, when I noticed something. The man who appeared to be running the operation at the Governor’s side was masked. He spoke oddly, but that was a secondry part. The man running the sweep the Governor was prattling about didn’t want to be identified. It didn’t really take a lot to put the sum together and I could only wonder if the Governor had known what type of devil he had made a deal with? I had to wonder what Tondry would be doing, in the employ of a petty criminal but knowing the man it would be to further some sort of aim he had.

I sat watching for some minutes, noting something wasn’t quite right. There was an area that was putting up resistance and if I was not mistaken, it was close. I could hear muted blaster fire, the odd explosion and the odd whipcrack sound.

Whipcrack? And each crack was punctuated with a bang…

Suddenly, it was vital I got to where the place was this disturbance was going on. I got up, allowed the cloak to fall off me. The patrons may well have been watching the viewer, but some of them noticed the sudden unveiling of a Imperial Royal Guard in their midst. There was a scream and some curses as I walked out, Force Pike in hand. I used the vocorecorders to pinpoint the loudest firing, then began to walk swiftly in that direction. As I got closer, I heard some new weapon open up, rapid fire. It would seem that whatever Tondry was up to, he had suddenly hit something a good deal more powerful than he expected and I had a suspicion what.

There was a flash and an abrupt clap of thunder. Then another. Surprised, I stopped until I saw another turbolaser blast streak down and hit the ground, making it tremble beneath my feet. I rearranged my thoughts on what this was, obviously just how bad whatever it was fighting hadn’t fully come through on the public channel. The Bantha must have turned into a Krayt Dragon, especially to elict the rather standard Imperial response of scorched earth reprisal. To me tho, that didn’t sound like Tondry… I decided that I had better find out what was here and fast. As I moved, I took off the lightsabre at my waist, had it ready to use. My feet pounded as I ran, no longer needed any form of detection to find where I needed to go.

A road block was in my way, but their attention was diverted to the bombardment, so they did not see me until I was upon them. I stepped, pushed off and did a somersault over them, almost not breaking stride. There were some yells, but I had caught them out and with the speed I had, they couldn’t respond before I ran around a corner…

To view Hell. The bombardment may have stopped, but the area where the strike occurred was a flaming, rubble strewn mess. One or two soldier noticed as I now walked past, arrogance and power radiating from each step. No one was fool enough to stop me, not as I was a Guard and could rip their life from them before they blinked – it was more shellshock. They obviously hadn’t expected this barrage and it must have been indiscriminate. Random Turbolaser shots… that was not Tondry at all. Who had done this then?

I walked up to where there seemed to be a command area, which was damaged. I marched up before speaking. The speakvox in my helmet altered my voice, from female to deep and growling male. It sounded like I was constantly snarling.

“Where is your Commander?” I asked of a soldier who looked reasonably uninjured

“Who… who are you?” He stuttered. Obviously, seeing a Royal Guard, polished red armour reflecting the fires must have been quite a sight on top of what had happened here.

“I ask the questions, not you. Your Commander, bring me to him. Now”

His eyes went wide in fear. Maybe he had heard what happened to people who defied a Guardsman. Maybe it was also the fact there was a lit lightsabre in my hand, pointed at his throat. Didn’t matter, he was most accommodating after that.

“Su-u-re. This way please”

How nice. “What happened here soldier?”

“We were making a sweep for criminals my Lord. We came to the Croucthing Tiger Inn and there were a few people… I don’t know, they had some unusual guns. Blasted everything apart. Someone said on the comm. one of them could a have been a Jedi. Blue skinned”

Jedi.

Blue skinned Jedi?!?

There was only two blue skinned Force users I knew of and one of them was indeed a Jedi…. The other was… Imperial the last I knew? “The guns. Describe them”

“I don’t know. They were… projectile weapons. I didn’t think they made slug throwers like that! They blew their targets apart!”

Huh? This was making no sense. I could only hope I got more sense from whoever was commanding this fuckup

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Jyanis stood in the alley and looked at both ends. He surely wasn't going back to that street, so he slid the Minigun off his shoulders and folded it up, taking the same two straps and putting it on behind him as a backpack. He shrugged it into a comfortable position and walked to the opposite end of the alley, out into the street, making sure the mini rocket launcher was tucked out of view under the backpack.

The Jedi warrior gazed upon the city, showing light activity now that the area had been cleared. Cautiously he began to jog down the sidewalk, hoping uselessly that noone would take notice at a blue skinned hybrid with silver hair, contrasting color eyes, a tattered shirt beyond repair barely covering his burns and blood, whilst he favored one side of his body to protect his broken rib.

"Oh yeah, I'll fit right in."

[Nathan W3st]

There were no words spoken, no hand motions, except for the initial warning, no communication at all. Quietly, they moved into postions that would leave a less than ideal retreat for whoever was carying the blaster. West himself leveled his rifle, and cranked the shot power to the maximum setting, aiming it through the permacrete above the unknown person crouched.

"Toss the blaster out and away from you."

There was a good deal of hesitation and thought. West aimed the rifle carefully, and pulled the trigger. The slug sped through the 'crete, and smacked the wall on the other side of Gurney, about a foot above his head.

"I have thirteen others with me."

The gun clattered against the opposite wall, and settled into the muck.

"Very good. Now, slowly, put your hands around the corner, and stand up." The hands appeared, well worn from many years of use. Slowly, they rose in height.

"Now step out."

[Darth Turbogeek]

He placed her on the bed, more than a little bit concerned by her injuries. Despite her insistance she was fine, he knew she wasn’t. But at least he could see it was fixable.

One of the things his Master Jeseth had noted was the extraordinary gift of healing Turbogeek had. The young man couldn’t lift a rock by the Force, but apparently could ‘see’ what was wrong with a person and use that picture as guide what to do. It was proof, Jeseth said, he had power to do things with the Force, but as yet Turbogeek couldn’t do anything consciously with it. It all seemed to be natural talent or reflex – and this healing gift. Turbogeek didn’t think he used the Force to accomplish what he could, he wasn’t even sure whether this mystical energy field existed at all. Anyway, there was still too much in this galaxy that was new and exciting to him that needed finding out about first. Hence, he was terminally curious. He had latched onto Arya because she fed that thirst for knowledge and besides, was also a humane face amongst all those… Dark Jedi at Bast Castle. Some of those creatures were weird. And the humans too.

Except Lady De’ville. She seemed to at least tolerate him. It probably helped that he had saved her life with the healing abilities – her and her baby, although one was lost. He had felt that life disappear and it had haunted him in dreams. Not that he understood what death anyway. So much he didn’t have a clue about and sometimes he didn’t even realise how much. Like now.

Arya was a beautiful woman, even if she was hard edged. Not understanding the concept of beauty, he only thought of her as just another human. Jeseth, in one of the more embarrassing lessons, had explained gender and sex, something Turbogeek found utterly repellant, much to Jeseth and Arya’s amusement. She teased him every now and then, but he usually looked at her blankly. Eventually she just gave upWhat use was having a dig when the other had no idea what you were talking about?

She now lay on the bed, unconscious. Turbogeek watched her breathe for a few minutes, before deciding what to do. He drew over the heater, switched it on. He removed his shirt, sripped down so he was only wearing his pants. Neatly muscular, not overly, smooth and unblemished skin he was, apart from the markings of the mornings bashing at the hands of that woman. Now, he placed a hand on the woman’s forehead, closed his eyes and allowed himself to relax. This often seemed to work in helping working out what was wrong and it worked here as well.

Hmm. Cuts, internal injuries. Some burns. Nothing mortal in scope, just lots of work. I should be able to handle this with what I have

He moved over to where is travelling pack was, pulled out what he called his patch kit. In it was a surgical arsenal a high raking doctor would have raised his eyes at – cutting lasers, bacta patches, rapid grow skin grafts, blood replacements… it could keep just about anyone alive until being taken to a full medlab. Turbogeek was building one of those on Vjun too, virtually out of scrap. Out of the patch kit came a small data pad, with wiring coming from it, again made from scrap, but now a highly sophisticated sensory monitor that could monitor just about all vital signs. He placed t down while he took Arya’s clothes off, attaching the various sensors to all parts of her body. The pad beeped to acknowledge and began to monitor. A few taps and a heartbeat monitor appeared on screen, combined with blood pressure and ECG. It hadn’t taken him long to read up what was critical to watch for with a human. Sure, medical datapads were scarce at Vjun, but he had used public network access and had found out a lot. Consumed every slice of knowledge too in a blink. Wasn’t able to pass a test on what he learned – but when he needed it, he could recall it. It was frustrating to Jeseth, who wasn’t able to teach the apprentice a thing about using the Force.

Wasn’t important now. What was important was fixing Arya. He firstly grabbed a cloth, cleaned off the worst blood smears to reveal the extent of the cuts and burns. Whatever had happened, she had a few decent hits and scorches. Maybe she had come across the Man With No Color too. Ahh well

He got to work, not noticing the time go.

One Hour later, his back was aching and his eyes watered from the strain – but he was finished. Bacta patches, synskin wrappers littered the place as did some disposible medicines. Tired, he stretched and wiped some sweat from his forehead. Turbogeek placed a sheet over the naked woman, now hoping she could get some natural rest for a while. She needed it.

He needed rest too. Very quietly, he rolled himself up, slid under her bed so he could not be seen, closed his eyes and went to an exhausted snooze.

Two hours later, outside, five shadowy figures sped across the street. One tall, four short. Five minutes later a huge explosion rocked the area as a police base detonated

He awake abruptly, smaking his head into the underside of the bed.

“Owww!”

He fell back down, rubbing his head and cursing softly. Where… wha… ah. Now he remembered. Another, not so loud explosion sounded. Puzzled, he groggily crawled out from under the bed, then walked to the window.

And stared.

Fires. Smoke. Something was going on here. Something big.

A knock on the door drew his attention away and his senses on full alert. “Who is it?”

“Innkeeper. Don’t worry about opening the door, I was just coming to to warn all the guests. Stay insode. A full curfew has been declared”

“A what?”

“A curfew. You know everyone stay inside”

“Why?”

“Ya blind? There’s been an attack”

“Attack? By who?”

“Don’t know…. But the Governor is claiming the New Republic”

Turbogeek just turned to stare out the window in shock and in silence.

[DarthHERA]

Hera cussed as she slammed the door - the Innkeeper's placating face crumpling into a look of injured affront was completely lost on the Sith. As he moved on to give the latest news of the curfew to the next rooms occupants, he couldnt help but kick himself again for letting "her type" stay here. But then again... he might not be still in possession of all arms, legs and vital organs had he said no. He proceeded to knock lightly on the room next door..

Hera fumed about the room like a caged wolf. Those idiotic New Republic and their Laser toys. She didnt have time for inconvenient delays such as curfews and wars. She had a contact to meet and he certainly wasnt the type to risk his sorry hide to keep a date with a Sith smuggler. "Coward" she spat out loud. What a wasted trip.

She gathered her few belongings that she had brought with her - she had even planned to have some R & R in this town, laze by the pool, play some dice..cards maybe..She cussed yet again.

[Pierce Tondry]

It had been an hour since the finish of Operation: Perimeter. Pierce Tondry, under the name of Corinas Jax at the moment, was for some reason not around for any of Arcan IV's military commanders to reach him.

The messenger looking for him had so far scoured the bulk of the Tactical Headquarters. Ensign Jay Fugure, had so far been to the comm array, the landing pad, the mess hall, and a private vid viewing area. It had been something of a goose chase- Fugure had been told upon arriving at each location that Pierce had just left for point X- the next area he'd searched.

He was now stepping into the HQ's public weight room. Even officers had to stay in shape, and Fugure had given up on asking, instead preferring to hunt by himself.

Fugure held up a datapad with a holo of Corinas Jax's face and compared it to the room's occupants.

It matched the face of the man bench pressing off to the right.

With his intended recipient finally found, Fugure started over. He was interrupted by a man he'd never seen before, who abruptly dropped two 75x weighted dumbbells and stood in front of him. "The General wants privacy right now," he said. "No interruptions."

"B-but I have a message for him from the Governor," Fugure stammered. "I have a summons for him."

"Like I said-" the man continued. He was interrupted.

"Let him through, Weimar," Corinas Jax abruptly spoke up, not pausing in his set of lifts.

Fugure stepped around Weimar with a triumphant smile, noting that there was a buffer of empty space between Jax and the rest of the soldiers working out. "General-"

"Never interrupt a man on the weight bench." Jax spoke.

Fugure fell into a startled silence. Behind him, he could almost feel Weimar smirking.

It was now clear to Fugure that he was to wait until Jax had finished his set. That was fine- Fugure was used to waiting. To pass the time, he counted Jax's repetitions.

When Jax finally stopped, Fugure's mouth dropped in astonishment. "Forty-two?" he asked allowed.

Jax extricated himself from beneath the weights. "Fifty," he corrected, wiping down the bench with some cleaning spray and a towel. "I started before you got here."

"How many did you do? Sets, I mean."

"Five."

Fugure's eyes bulged and he stared at the bench press. "You had a message?" Jax prompted.

"Y-yes, sir," Fugure stated respectfully. "The Governor summons you to a meeting of his General Staff to discuss the repercussions of today's Operation and the bombing of the Governor's Mansion."

"Summons." There was disgust in the word.

"That's what the message says, sir," Fugure hastily assured him. He handed over the datapad.

Jax read it and snorted. "I think it's time I really took charge of this miserable operation." He looked at Fugure and saluted. "Thank you for the message, Ensign. You are dismissed."

Fugure saluted in return, too awed to say anything. He watched Jax leave and noticed thirteen other men (Weimar among them) abruptly stop what they were doing and follow him. He then stared in awe at the bench press again, paying particular reverence to the two 200x weights that had been left on the weight bar.

######

The door slid open and Pierce walked into the briefing room dressed in his workout clothes and brandishing a towel. Ten other men followed him.

"General Jax," Yevyss started.

"Good of you not to be here, Jeger," Pierce interrupted, gazing at the hologram next to the Governor.

"I simply thought it best if I remained in orbit in case any problems happen," Jeger blustered.

"Good," Pierce stated as he turned to face the Governor. "I've been examining the satellite feed from the Operation and learned several disturbing things. First off, the Republic has sent their best commanders here to get a feel for the situation- I recognize them from the vid feed. Second, they have a SpecOps team on the planet, probably working from the sewers. Of course, they might've come up for air by now- I just caught blaster fire coming from a manhole cover- but they were there."

No one spoke. Several expressions of surprise flickered around the table. Pierce smiled in satisfaction. "Now," he said. "This means that everything is pushed up a step. Publicize the destruction of the mansion as part of an NR attack. Finish the second wave. Clean up that perimeter."

"Actually, the second wave was finished thirty minutes ago, during our operation," Olar stated. "They've been deported and have no idea what happened. Also, the Governor has already started a smear campaign regarding the attack."

"Good," Pierce stated.

"And as for the perimeter," Olar continued. "We found someone while we were out there while we were securing our station. One of the people involved in the counterstrike. We have him in custody."

It was Pierce's turn to be surprised. "Really?" he asked. "Who?"

"We don't know, but he's currently in interrogation room twelve."

Pierce's eyes narrowed and he began going back over the people he'd seen in the feed. NR member Jyanis Scorpion, the lady with the hair as dark as a raven's, and the possible NR agent who'd assisted the nearly legendary-

"He was completely naked and weaponless when we found him," Olar added, pulling Pierce out of his reverie. "Apparently a turbolaser blast had impacted the ground at close range to his position. It appears that Jeger's move was a good thing after all, eh?"

"We lost thirty-five men to Admiral Jeger's idiocy," Pierce spat. "They are not worth one measely prisoner, even if he is who I think he is. Now, I'm going to go check on this prisoner. You all sit and stay."

Then he turned and left, leaving the extra men behind with the Arcan IV Military Chiefs of Staff. There was a confused silence as the two groups regarded each other. "Who are you?" Olar asked.

One of them stirred. "Shut up."

Olar sat back, surprised, and the silence resumed.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

It was the smell first. It was sharp and metallic, much like blood.

Then came the taste. It was foul and sickening, like he had eaten a handful of bantha dung.

After a moment trying to work that out, he slowly opened his eyes and as he did, he realised he had a mean headache and his entire body felt like it had been trampled by a rancor. He blinked, trying to get his eyes to focus, but with the entire body throbbing like a burning ache, it was hard. What the frell had happened for his body to ache like this? Struggling through the fog of his mind, he tried to concentrate on the last thing that had happened to him that he could remember. It was difficult, his mind was also refusing to work properly…

<font color=red>He just stared as he could see in his mind’s eye as the beam shot down, he could see exactly where it was going to hit. He stretched out a hand and muttered “No….”

The universe seemed to explode into green fire as the bolt struck the speeder Tohmahawk was near. The blast picked him up like a leaf and sent his body flying, the shock wave ripping at his clothes. His rail guns vaporised, he felt the heat blast at him. He smacked the ground and mercifully, and as his head collided with something and as the flames overtook him, he knew his death would be painless and quick.</font>

Oh. Now he remembered. Damnit, he thought, I don’t want to go through the afterlife with a frigging headache – I wont enjoy it! Maybe this was only temporary. Like, who knew what happened when you died? Maybe it was after effects of the turbolaser shot that surely vaporised him, maybe it was whatever his spirit thought he should be suffering if he was alive? Maybe there would be bright light too? For the first time in a long time, he was getting excited over something, he willed his eyes (Obviously, don’t have any of those anymore) to look where he was. What would he see?

Well, there was the bright light alright, but as he blinked his watering eyes clear, he was somewhat disappointed to see he was in a small room, that was blurry to say the least. Waiting room? And if that was the case, waiting for what? He looked down and as vision came back, he could see he was wearing a black t-shirt and black pants. Not quite what he was wearing when he died, but still, not bad. Cool threads even. He seemed to be seated on some sort of vaguely uncomfortable chair – no, clamped would be a better word for it…..

He stopped, puzzled.

Then realised

“oooowwwwwwwwww ffffffffiiiiiiitttccccccchhhhhh”

He couldn’t really speak as he had no real control over his body and it was indeed his body. Every sound now was sharp and caused the headache to throb. With a good deal of confusion, he knew now that he hadn’t died – he was very much alive, at least for the moment. And had somehow survived a almost direct hit from a turbolaser, although not without some injuries. He back of his head felt wet (blood most likely) and now as his vision got better, he could see his hands. The backs of them were burnt and blistered, plus pained badly. Nothing else however felt really bad, except for the aches over his entire body.

Tohmahawk tested the clamps and realised he was locked fairly well in place. Thence, as more of his vision came back, he wasn’t really surprised to see the room was in fact interrogation room, fairly standard, with a couple of goons with blasters just a touch uglier than they were pointed at him. On his right, there was the bundle he had been carrying, now open and revealing the contents.

@#%$. Someone was going to be pissed with him and it looked like they could take it out on his butt too. Ahh well, he thought, couple of hours maximum of torture as tey tried to get information from him, then he would expect execution. At least they wont @#%$ up his death then. In a strange way, he welcomed the end. He was battle weary and pretty much lost caring for anything years ago. Maybe with a few well timed insults, they would get it over and done with.

He almost smiled. Death will finally catch him now and what a relief it would be.

You cant die – not now

Oh shut up and watch me

[Gurney Devries]

Obediantly, and with a great deal of reluctance, Gurney did as he was bade. Before he was fully into the cone of light, he flicked his head forward in an abbreviate nod, the tattered remains of his hood once again falling into place over his head and concealing most of his face.

"Your people are good," he commented. "Damn good. Didn't even hear you coming."

Shaded by what remained of his hood, cool blue eyes scanned the crowd of men. To have gotten that many people to move silently through a sewer... remarkable! They were standing in formation, cutting off almost every possible avenue of escape.

In the span of just a few heartbeats, the combat instructor mentally went over his possibility of escaping this unharmed. He then repeated the same equation in his head with the possibility of escaping with minor wounds. And with Major Wounds. In the end, it seemed to be in his best interest to let himself to be captured.

"Gurney Devries, citizen number 801-121-7504", he barked out.

[Lord Fire Blade]

The soldier took me to a Major, a middle aged and fairly heavyset soldier.

“Now we close up the line here and remove…. Yes Private, what is it?” he said, not noticing me as yet.

“S-ir, there’s someone who wants to speak to you”

“I don’t have time Private”

“You will make time” I snarled, standing behind him. The Major turned, and did a double take.

“Are you for real? Aren’t all the Royal Guards … dead?”

“Your eyes don’t lie Major. You name, rank and then tell me what happened here”

He was obviously surprised, but to his credit, he adjusted fast. “My Lord, Major Ramjet at your service” he stated, with a small bow. “Were you involved in this setup, My Lord?”

“No, I am here to observe and I wished not to be involved in what is a local problem, until now. What happened?”

“I’m not entirely sure, but it seems that three, maybe four beings came out of the Crouching Tiger Inn” he pointed at a smoltering hole in the ground “and blazed out with some sort of firepower I have never seen before. Like miniture rockets. Two men and a woman blew out the front, another went to a balcony and ripped the street apart. I had ordered a fallback when..” at this point, the man’s face twisted in fury “Some barstard upstairs opened up with a turbolaser and slagged my squad. Asses didn’t even get most of the perps, we know that the woman and a blue skinned alien got away. Another man we found knocked out and he’s under custody. I’m presuming the other male got away and we’re not going near him”

“Why not?”

“Two reasons my Lord… the weapon he had…. Dug that trench over there with whatever the hell it fired, although Corporal Lee thinks it was some sort of slugthrower as were the other guns” I glanced in the direction he pointed. A 1 meter deep line that curled about for some distance, apparently made up of craters. I had to admit, I had never seen a weapon, especially something portable that would be that powerful. And cetainly not any known slugthrowers… but as soon as the Majro said slugthrower, I had a horrible suspicion.

“And two, Major?”

The man was good, but even he couldn’t contain the look of fear in his eyes “The blue skin was a Jedi”

WHAT?!?!

“Your mistaken Major. There are two known Force using Chiss and neither are Jedi”

“I’m only telling you what I saw my Lord. He was wearing a black version of the uniform of a General of the New Republic too”

This was madness. “Are you certain Major? Who was the man caught…?”

“I’m certain my Lord and we are not certain who the captured man is, but he too is a New Republic soldier, tenitavly id’ed as a Tohmahawk, James…”

“Hold there. Tohmahawk?”

“Yes my Lord. I was not the person who made the id check, but the database matches him to a Captain of the New Republic”

Oh @#%$. This was actually now making sense. Major General Tohmahawk and General Jyanis Scorpion, whom I knew were good friends, despite Scorpion’s Imperial status… although, Scorpion in a New Republic uniform…. That didn’t make sense. But it was known there was a Bounty Hunter with NR connections that carried a high speed slugthrower, which from personal experience was extremely lethal. Possibly the type of weapon here? Finally, pieces were falling into place. “Very well Major, my appreciation you have. Now, how many men have you left under you command?”

“29 my Lord. 39 were killed in the bombardment” I noted the way the spat of the word bombardment. “20 more out of action and 22 killed when the four beings broke out of the Inn.”

He started with 110 and had 29 in action left. By the Force, this was a disaster. “Very well, get you men grouped. Your under my command now. And…” I lowered my voice so only the Major could hear “My condolences Ramjet. Those responsible will pay for this waste”

“You better believe it my Lord. I’m not going to tolerate this type of waste”. I had to admit, I was beginning to like this Major. A no nonsense and useful character befallen by idiots up high.

“Very well Major… but we need to neutralise the situation first. Agreeed?”

“Yes my Lord… ALLRIGHT, FALL IN! SARGENT, GET ALL SOLDIERS THAT CAN STILL FIGHT OVER HERE! NOW!”

I waited while the troops came about. They stared at me, obviously wondering what was going on, that a Royal Guard would be involved. I waited until all of them were gathered in a ragged bunch.

“Hey Sarge, can I ask a question?”

“What Hudson?”

“How do I get out of this chickenshit outfit?”

“STOW THAT @#%$ HUDSON!”

“Enough!” The snapped command from me silenced everyone. Made a rough count. Didn’t like the answer. “We’re going hunting who did this”

“Hey pal, I don’t know if you were looking, but we got our asses kicked.. I ain’t… gggaaarrrrrrkkkk…”

I had a hand out and with the Force I began to choke this smartass. I allowed him to struggle agains the grip, then released him, the trooper falling to the ground and gasping. “As I said, we’re going to hunt down who did this. You either obey my orders or you die. Questions?”

There was none. “Good. Follow me. Wiseass, you go tail end. Major, assign a point. Everyone else, I want a staggered line. Move it”

As the soldiers got into position (Quite professionally too – the Major had some good men) I had to consider the sitrep. Darth Turbogeek back from the dead, Pierce Tondry, now General Scorpion and possibly General Tohmahawk. Something big was going on here. Something very big.

I felt pleasure and excitement course through my veins. This was the sort of thing I had once lived for.

Bring it on.

[Pierce Tondry]

The words "Interrogation Block 12" had been painted in black on the gunmetal gray wall of the Arcan IV military HQ.

Pierce Tondry wore one of his personal sets of commando gear. This one was designed for fighting inside a military installation, and was a muted gray that blended with the HQ's decor.

If the prisoner was who he suspected, then he might need it.

"Sir. May I help you?"

Pierce nodded to the prison block attendant who was safely behind protective glass. "My name is General Corinas Jax, on special attached duty to Arcan IV's Chiefs of Staff. I understand that there was a special prisoner brought in under heavy lockdown from Operation: Perimeter. I'd like to see him."

"Certainly, sir. Your ID, please?"

By-the-book procedures. "Of course, Corporal," Pierce replied, handing over his Arcan IV special clearance card to the man in front of him.

The Corporal took the card and slid it through a reader slot in the detention block computer terminal. The computer processed the card and returned a pleasant sounding beep. "Thank you, General Jax," the Corporal nodded. "Now, if you'll just excuse me for a moment while I confirm this-"

Very thorough security indeed. "Go ahead."

Without taking his eyes from Pierce, the Corporal picked up a nearby comm-line and began speaking into it. The conversation was short, and went as Pierce expected. "You're cleared for entry into the block, General," the Corporal stated as he cut the connection. "The prisoner in question is in Cell ES-344. Please move quickly, because there's only a two minute clear period for your access pass."

"Thank you, Corporal," Pierce took back his clearance card. "And compliments on your security. You run a tight ship."

The Corporal grinned and fired off a quick salute. "Just doing my job, sir."

Pierce saluted in return and began to enter the detention block, when the Corporal called his name. "General Jax?"

Pierce's head turned, inquisitive.

"We appreciate what you're trying to do for us, sir. Make our planet a better place and all. If there's anything I can do for you, please let me know."

Pierce acknowledged the other with another nod. "I will. What's your name, Corporal?"

"Palant, sir. Reeves Palant."

"Thank you, Corporal Palant. I hope you have a quiet shift."

Palant grinned again. "Shift's almost over, sir. Another five minutes."

Pierce continued into the Interrogation block, quickly locating Cell ES-344. He slid his card through the reader and it opened the door without a fuss.

Beyond a one-way window was a room full of painful playtoys- electrical pain stimulators, medical monitors so interrogators knew just which side of death their subjects were on, surgical implements for mindtwister operations, and syringes filled with liquids that could induce nausea, disability, and of course, agonizing pain. It was not a room Pierce particularly liked to be in, even if he admired the efficiency with which it did its job.

Necessary evil was the term he thought of.

On the other hand, Pierce's brand of unconvential warfare was just as necessary and often characterized as evil by straight soldiers, so what did he care?

The prisoner shackled to the restraint bed was asleep, or so the medical monitors said. Never could tell with suspected Jedi. Pierce gave the man a once-over, committing the image to memory.

"You can begin the question session."

One of the technicians inside the room grinned sadistically at the false window, then reached for a syringe. The injection caused the prisoner's eyes to open wide and he gasped.

The lead interrogator leaned down to the prisoner's ear, but his voice was shout when he spoke. "What are you here for, Major General Tohmahawk?! What are you here for?"

[Jyanis Scorpion]

He must've looked like a street bum, tattered, dirty, and broken. Carrying a strange exotic steel gadget on his back, with his eyes to the ground as he walked. Normally, the Force would guide him and tell him what he should do or where he should go, but now, for some odd reason, it wasn't. His mind was clouded and he wondered where to go.

"Hey, watch it, freak!"

Scorpion looked up from the permacrete. He didn't even notice he had bumped into anyone, but apparently he had. A scrawny pale human, clad in rancor skin dyed black, studded at random with spikes dulled at their tips. Topped off with greasy black hair, he was quite the sight. The man had a girl on his shoulder, barely out of her teens, and he was obviously about to hand a wad of bills to another before him, who was probably one of the homliest things he'd ever seen. If she took off a few layers of makeup and wore something more concealing then she could possibly be a very attractive woman, but it didn't take a triclops to see that she was in a business where these were very fine qualities.

Scorpion shrugged and started to walk away, "I apologize, my eyes were elsewhere."

The girl on the pimp's shoulder chimed in, her nose held high in the air, "Well it's a good thing, 'cause you've got the ugliest mug I've ever seen! I don't know why they let you aliens wander 'round here anyways."

He narrowed his eyes, which he learned to do even with his cybernetic one, "I'm sure that's a justified remark, but just to inform you: in the future, remember that 'cosmetics' doesn't mean you use enough to coat the cosmos."

She gave a gasp and curled her nose from either disgust or from the insult. Probably both. The skinny greaseball pushed the girl aside and shoved the palms his hands into Scorpion's chest, indirectly causing the alien man's face to squint from the pain of his broken rib.

"You just made your death, blue man!"

Scorpion smirked at the lack of grammar, then tilted his head as two new men, noticably larger than the other man stepped up from behind a durasteel garbage crate. Both pulled out DH-17 pistols and raised them into the air simultaneously.

With stunned looks on their faces, the guns were pulled out from their hands and swung back around to crack them in the forehead. They slumped to the ground with a light groan, and Scorpion looked back at the first one, who had stepped back and pulled out a Bi Polar Blaster Carbine from his leather outfit. Before he could fire though it was kicked from his hand straight up into the air. Scorpion shifted feet and connected a tightened fist with the man's face. He yelped out in pain as blood streamed down his face. The carbine dropped back into Scorpion's hand. The man was stumbling with his hand on his face.

"Auuggh! You bode ma node!"

Scorpion grabbed him by the collar of his clothes and lifted him into the air with a grin on his face, letting the Force sweep him up and throw him into the garbage crate, where he was soon followed by his cronies.

The Jedi Warrior holstered the carbine and kept going his original direction, stepping between the two girls, "You know, you should really think of trying a new profession. This isn't the most respected work found in the galaxy."

[Nathan W3st]

"Stay very still, Devries." Devries, much to his credit, didn't flinch, only inclining his head very slowly.

"Shorty, grab the man's weapon." Shorty immediately went for the mutted metal glint and pulled the SMG sized weapon from the muck. He dropped the clip from it without further examination, and pulled one of the slugs out, holding it close to his "sunglasses" covered eyes.

"Five point five six, standard NRSF issue, execpt its explosive tipped."

"Who gave you this, Devries?"

"Somone named Tohmahawk."

"Loaf, you have a little bit of the fun clay left?"

"A little under a gram, sir."

"Good." West took off his wrist chrono, and handed it to the demolitions man."Rig something up so that if our newfound friend here decides to run, we can push a button and sever his ankle from his leg."

It took another five minutes before Olaf presented Nathan with the watch. It looked pretty much the same, until you turned it over.

"Alright Mister Devries, I want you to stand very, very still. I'm going to put this around your ankle."

[Master Yoghurt]

<font color=cyan>Space. An infinitive dark void dotted with millions upon millions of stellar objects.. a vast sea with twinkling islands of stars scattered on its infinitive cosmic sphere. So quiet, so cold, so emty..

or is it...?</font>

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/yog/falcon/Hyperspace.jpg>

Stars seemed to stretch out into a tunnel of streaks as a gate opened at the bending horizon of spacetime. A thunder of bright glowing engine heat fumed into the cold darkness, and the blurry shape of a stellar wessel became sollid shape as a highly modified Corellian Engineering YT-1300 transport roared out of hyperspace. A quick glance might suggest this was just one of the many transports that frequently traveled the hyperspace lanes. Perhaps just the regular smuggler or freight contractor. However, upon closer inspection, one would find the hull modified to carry all sorts of advanced weaponry and sensors arrays. A fully functional fast moving battlestation. The reinforced armor hull plates had the strange optical effect of reflecting light as a crystal chandelier. The ship was known as the <a href=http://www.thegjo.com/yog/falcon/falcon.htm>"Silver Falcon"</a>.

Behind the controls of this ship, inside the flight cabin, sat a strange looking green wrinkly creature with upward tilted long pointy ears, grey strands of hair, and a tiny stub of a nose. The customised pilot seat had ergonomic dimensions fitting only the smallest of growth, customised for the comfort of this ships captain. He was wearing some old robes, and mounted to a belt, there was a cylindrical shaped weapons of sorts. A lightsaber - the weapon of a Jedi Knight:

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/sig/Arca.gif>


He made some slight flight pattern adjustments to prevent getting too close to the nearby asteroid field. He would not want to ruin his day by stranding on a barren rock, far away from any spaceport. Once the ship turned to a safer flight vector, thus gaining some distance to the tumbling rocks that spinned and smashed into each other like some kind of cosmic balette. He picked a datapad out of his pocket, tapped a button, and the screen lit up with the message he had received a few days ago..

<table bgcolor=000000 width=400><tr><td><font face=verdana color=lime size=1>
Master Yoghurt
The NRSF invites you for a visit at the MC-200 "Defender". Your help is requested and of great importance. Time is scarce. Navigation coordinates and time table attached to this message.
Regards
A friend
</font></td></tr></table>

Whoever sent that message, had an odd sense of humor or a taste for a little mystery. The Jedi Master was perhaps strong with the Force, but he had not the foggiest idea about the authors identity or what kind of help was expected. He closed his eyes and let the Force flow freely through his body.. he then let tendrils of the Force reach out into the unknown - into the future. The future appeared.. cloudy. Always in motion was the future. This was certainly something much more than just the causal friendly visit. He had a feeling.. a feeling..

He was in an allmost trancedelic state of mind.. his thoughts were suddenly interupted when the constant crackling Intercom static became a voice of a more linguistic value:

"Greetings kf489-23602. Your final destination coordinates are 64-a, 79-d, 57c. Follow your present course"


<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/yog/falcon/Asteroids.jpg>

Those were highly peculiar coordinates. They seemed to lead straight into that asteroid field. It would be suicidal following the present course for much longer unless.. unless <font color=red>it was no asteroid field!</font> The realisation slowly dawned upon the old man as the contours of a titanic sized object started to fill the viewscreen. The asteroid field was non existant. Just a hologram casted to conceal what was behind; a gigantic spacewessel of such size, it reached as far as eye could see. The entire viewscreen was quickly covered with the sight of Durasteel structure. This tiny insect of a YT-1300 freighter was totally dwarfed, just a tiny dot with a vaste sea of metal a backdrop. This had to be it. The legendary Mon Calamari Super Starcruiser <a href=http://www.thegjo.com/NR/mc-200.htm>MC-200 "Defender"</a>.

"You are cleared to land at docking bay 73-B.. our tractor beams will guide your ship into correct glidepattern"

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/NR/mc-200/mc-200.jpg>


*****************

A few minutes later.. in docking bay 73-B

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/yog/falcon/MC-200hangar.jpg>



As the old man walked down the lowered YT-1300 landing ramp, a millitary officer wearing NRSF insignia approached and salluted to greet him, with a eager expression on his face, he spoke:

"Greetings. We are honored by the presence of such a highly regarded member of the Jedi Order. Master Yoghurt, Jedi Master and Elder of the Jedi Council. A great warrior who..

<font size=2>"Great warrior?! Hrmpph.. wars not make one great!!"</font>

The old man frowned

"But our men are so thrilled by your arrival. You can not imagine how motivated our men were when they heard the news."

"I believe things to do we have.. hmmmm..?

"Yes, of course. If you would follow me, I will escort you to the command bridge. They are expecting you."


He was tired, he was grumpy, and he other matters to attend to. Nevertheless, his green naked tripod feet strived determined across the cold floor to the turbolift..

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya opened her eyes groggily, and then squeezed them shut again, trying to go back to sleep. Too late. Blue eyes opened once more, and took in the darkened hotel room, drapes open still, revealing a brightly lit skyline. Darkness covers over the ugliness of it all. She wrestled herself into a semi propped up position, leaning on her elbow, as she looked out the window.

And had a heart attack as a shadow detached itself from the draperies. "Frelling rancor @#%$, Turb!" He stepped over to the bed, and flicked on the small lamp on the bedside table. Arya squinted at him, "Do you always have to do that to me?"

He frowned, and walked around to the other side of the bed. "Let me check something. Be still, please." Arya looked down at herself, and noticed all the synskin patches plastered on her body. Her naked body. She frowned as Turbogeek pressed on her back, evidently checking a burn or something.

She experimentally took a deep breath as he walked back around to face her, and was pleased that her ribs did not bother her anymore. "You are amazing, Turb. I feel wonderful." And cold. Arya pulled a sheet over her, yanking it out of the bed and wrapping it around her amazingly well body, and slipped her feet to the carpet. "Did I miss much while I was out?"

"Not really. There's a curfew inforced, so we have to stay here. And there was another explosion, pretty big, too...an hour ago." He shrugged. "I was fixing you, but I -"

"And you did a great job." Arya flexed her arms, pleased that she felt as rested as she did from only two hours of sleep. She walked to her duffle bag and frowned at her clothes, thinking. Pulling out a matte black jumpsuit, she loosened the sheet and let it fall, putting on the appropriate undergarments and then the jumpsuit.

Bending down she picked up the sheet and threw it behind her toward the bed...but it didn't land. She turned, and saw Turbogeek struggling with it, as the sheet had fallen on him. Arya walked over and pulled it off him, and laughed suddenly. "You are such an enigma." Gets caught in a sheet, but saved my hide more than once with his healing. Frelling clone of a Jedi Master. ...if that was indeed what he was.

She checked the chrono, 23:58. Then, turning back towards Turb, she voiced her thoughts. "We're going to have to leave."

"In the morning?"

"Now."

"But the innkeeper said that there was a curfew-"

I wonder if it was the Sullustian or his droid who delievered the news? "Frell the curfew. People are looking for us, and we know that someone already did find us this morning. Remember?" Arya snapped her fingers at him, and then turned on the black box she had wired into the security systems of the Embassy Suites. The tiny monitor flickered, and she typed in a few codes, and the floor plan of the hotel popped up on the main holovid screen.

Arya pondered it for a moment. If we go down the hall, there's a fire escape from room 356. She tapped on the portable keyboard: Occupied. Frell. A few more minutes staring at the blueprints and at the realtime vid from the security holocams, then she unplugged her hardware. As she packed it away, Turb remained silent.

"We're going to take the stairs up to the fourth floor, avoiding the cams on the second and fifth landings, and then we're going to slice into room 468." She handed Turb a spray can of dubious origins. "Your job is to take out the cameras, this will cover the lenses and harden immediately, so be careful not to get any on you." It was a modified polymer spray that was strong enough to hold full grown men in place for hours, and not exactly meant for the job she was assigning him. But, she had to work with what she had. "Oh, and don't sniff it either, the fumes are pretty strong." The man held the can gingerly. "Once in the room, we break a window and shimmy down the fire escape. Or, if that proves impossible, there's a utility/maid room down the hall with a laundry chute... one way ticket to the ground floor."

"What if we get caught?"

"You run. I'll cover our backs and you get to patch me up if we both live." Arya grinned at the look on his face. "C'mon, what do you think we're here for? A vacation? Lets put your training to work." She zipped up her bag, and threw it across her back with only a tiny wince. "Check the 'fresher, make sure I got everything out, and wipe it." She tossed him a clean cloth.

As he did so, Arya bent over the console, cleaning up any traces her hardware might have left and wiping it down for fingerprints. Turb came out, and she nodded. "Lets do it then."

The pair opened their door, activated the Do Not Disturb light, and locked it carefully, wiping the door, frame and handles carefully before darting for the stairs.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

He was resting up for what was to come, preparing his mind and his body. He knew that they would really go all out for anything from Tohmahawk and he would have done nothing different, if the boot was on the other foot. The General held no illusions to what happened to prisoners, especially ones like him. But before he was executed, he would give em a few good verbal blows back, really rile and piss them off. Didn’t matter what they did to him, he was going to die anyway.

Pity I wont see Scorpion’s little surprise. I would love to see their idiot stares when the NRSF gets here and wipes their planet clean of the refuse from this shithole

<font color=green>Yes you will. You have to. </font>

Oh shut the @#%$ up. Let me gloat at these dicks in peace

Tohmahawk heard footsteps and some quiet conversation. The footsteps got closer, the General choosing not to acknowledge them and stay still. Quite abrupty, a rough hand grabbed his shoulder, then an explosion of pain as a hypo blasted somwthing into his neck. Tohmahawk gasped and then a yell nearly deafened him.

"What are you here for, Major General Tohmahawk?! What are you here for?"

His eyes actually watered. The question was repeated three times at the same volume before Tohmahawk gathered his mind together. He smirked as he spoke. “I was here to pick up goats. Why, did you want to f*** one too?”

The interrogator would have been expecting a smart answer, which explained why Tohmahawk got punched in the face. “Answer the question!!!”

He spat out blood. No teeth were dislodged – yet. “Did the goat reject you because of your bad breath?” The reply was another punch, this time to the gut. It didn’t quite wind Tohmahawk, but it was effective anyway.

“Shut up General, you don’t realise what trouble your in..”

“Bite me”

A voice from behind him spoke “The serum’s not working”. The interrogator looked puzzled.

“It’s not? Why?”

“No. The medical computer says he’s not human”

Interrogator gave Tohmahawk a frown, with the General sticking his tongue out in reply. “Well, what does the computer say he is?”

“Species unknown, similar to human but not enough”

That seemed to deflate the goons a touch. Tohmahawk decided to use the moment for a few more well chosen insults. “Awww, do your drugs not work on me??? Poor diddums. Wanna just kill me now dickless?”

Another voice behind him. “What, is this true?”

Golden chance. “Yes, it’s true - this man has no dick… ooooffffff…” Interrogator smashed a fist into Tohmahawk’s face again, making him see stars.

“Listen to me Tohmahawk…”

“I’m not Tohmahawk. My name is Skip Vatenen. Tohmahawk is an ugly mo-fo”

“Shut up. Your either going to co-operate or…”

“Or kill me? Go ahead….. YYYYYEEEEEEEAAAAAARRRRRRRGGGGGG!!!!!” His body suddenly felt like every molecule was on fire. It went on and on for what seemed to be forever until it stopped, leaving Tohmahawk gasping and twitching.

“Or that, General. Want to think twice about backchat?”

He found his neuro system was still too jarred to allow speech…. But he summonded the effort to make a rude finger gesture.

“Bad choice General. Again”

The world seemed to explode with pain again.

<font color=green>You cant die….. she needs you…</font>

How the frell could his thought be clear in all this pain? At least dying would mean he wouldn’t have to listen to the voice in his head….

[A Nameless New Republic Tech]

The ranking officers were waiting for Master Yoghurt as he arrived on the expanse that was the bridge of the Defender. Commander Zara Drecker, recently assigned and promoted to be the Captain of the huge NRSF vessel and the only First Officer of any NR ship saluted the little Jedi as he came out of the turbolift. Her group of officers also saluted the Jedi Master.

“Hmmm, yes… yes… about what is this?”

“Master Jedi, thank you for coming. General Scorpion said we were to wait for you and then set course for Arcan IV. And I was to give you this data pad”

Yoghurt accepted the pad, read it. “22 Star Destroyer defection at Arcan IV confirmed?”

“Yes Master Jedi. General Scorpion saw them himself. The entire NRSF fleet is ready and waiting for your command”

“What ships have you? Captain?”

“The Defender, Argus I, 10 Missile boats, 10 Neb-G’s plus the Henersa III fleet General Scorpion merged with the NRSF. Quite a force, Master”

The Argus I, plus the Defender probably were the equal to any fleet by themselves, let alone the Star Destroyers and other capital craft that Scorpion had bought with him when he defected. “Very well Captain. Other Jedi Warriors here?”

“Jedi Knight Liam Jinn, Master. He is overseeing the final preparations. Final orders?”

“Continue and deploy”

“SIR! Right, you heard him, get to it! I want this ship mobile in 30 minutes!”

The war fleet began to point it’s noses for the distant star of Arcan. Drecker felt the thrill of combat gathering in her – since she had been taken out of that dead end assignment and placed in command of the mightiest warship she could of imagined, she pushed herself and her crew to excellence, to reward Tohmahawk’s faith in her. Bitter mouth tyrant he was, but an officer her and the crew could truly respect.

She walked to her station to begin monitoring the final checkouts.

[Darth Turbogeek]

He paused at the door, listening quietly for any footsteps, then followed Arya as they got to the stairwell. Turbogeek had his hood up, and seeing a security camera, moved ahead smoothly plus quietly. The can emitted a thin squeak as the epoxy covered the lens. Arya was right, the stuff stank, but only a small bit was required to coat the cam. He moved up the stairs, gaining the fifth landing and repeating on that camera as well. The can was dipped into a pocket, a knife came out, held low and pointed at the ground. Not waiting for Arya, he kept going up the stairs, making the fourth floor a good 10 seconds faster than the woman. It was actually a touch spooky how fast and how quietly he was discovering he could move, how natural it was to stay to the shadows. Jeseth would be well pleased.

He paused as Arya caught up, then with one hand indicated for her to stay quiet. Three seconds later, he disappeared around the corner, a muffled thump, to reappear and signal the way was clear. As she came into the corridor, she saw a form on the floor. Turbogeek picked up the human, followed a disgusted looking Arya to room 468, which she broke into quickly. They both got inside, where an exasperated Arya turned to Turbogeek, who had placed the human in a chair

“What the frell are you…”

Turbogeek stopped her with a hand signal, titled his head, then K.O.ed the human again. “I didn’t feel like leaving a pointer where we were, nor did I feel like waiting while this human moved on. Would you?”

He did have two good points. She just nodded, before going across to the window and looking putside. A moment before she came back. “No go with the escape or a gutter. Utility chute it is. Will your catch be okay?”

He turned back to the human, regarded him, then knocked him out again with a huge punch to the jaw, Turbogeek placed a hand on the man’s head, before nodding. She could only shake her head, trying not to burst out laughing. “I’ve never seen anyone like you. Come on, chute is to the right and three doors down”

[Lord Fire Blade]

The squad moved with a good deal of professionalism, showing just how good the training the Major must have placed with these men. Hudson was a smartass, but he was a accomplished soldier as well. Just the way they all moved and slid along the walls showed their skill. Interesting how a backwater planet could produce good men like this. As we stopped at a corner, while two troops went ahead to scout, I asked Ramjet where the training came from.

“Combat mainly milord. We have a big criminal problem and we’re always struggling to deal with it. I’m afraid corruption here is rife and we don’t have the resources. So….” He shrugged, a look of hopelessness on his face. “The population would dearly love to be rid of them all and when the new Governor was elected… he promised to do it. So far all he’s done is eliminate the competion”

Somehow, that didn’t surprise me. “What can be done Ramjet?”

“Not a lot right now. The Governor bought in some of his own goons and mercs to make sure the locals stay in line. We may as well be slaves now my Lord, for all the good anything would do us now”. The note of bitterness in his voice was so clear and I noted a couple of soldiers who were nodding in agreement.

“You speak dangerously Ramjet. I could be one of these goons”

“Somehow my Lord… I doubt it. From what I know, the Imperial Royal Guards would never support a petty crook. I don’t know what your doing here, but it’s not to support the Governor”

He had that right. Maybe that was it, maybe that’s why the Republic had sent two of it’s biggest Generals here. I would bet the last credit I had that the Governor was not the main person now either. With Tondry here, something the Goons had done had drawn the Republic’s attention this way. A time code beeped in my helnet, indicating local midnight. We had been tracking this blue skinned Jedi for a few hours now and it was probably time for a 10 minute rest break. And also a think about what to do.

“Tell your men to gather around and fall out Major”

He did so, the troops sitting on anything that came to hand.

“So Sarge, you think the New Republic plans to invade?” said Hudson

“Not sure…” The sargent was interrupted. By myself.

“You… soldier. What did you say?”

Hudson turned white, but he still magaed to speak.” I-nvade my Lord. A General, a Jedi, pus the transmission tower at the Governor’s residence destroyed…”

I didn’t listen any more, instead rapidly ran it through my mind. It made a good deal of sense, especially given who was here. “Ramjet, Hudson is correct. Your Governor has done something to bring the attention of the New Republic here”

[Gurney Devries]

In last half hour or so, Gurney Devries had been shot at, had several large chunks of plaster and permacrete dropped on him, caught the barest edge of Turbolaser fire and been generally tossed about like a rag doll. In short, he was in a really bad mood.

"No," he growled. "I've had it up to here with having to deal with your kind today. If you want to make me a POW, then be quick about it. Else I might try to see just how many of your men here I can take down with me."

[Nathan W3st]

West shrugged, and backed off, holding both hands in the air.

"Alright Devries, we'll just have to..." West flicked his wrist, and before the man had a chance to take two steps, he was hit by two stun blasts. Nathan reversed his course, and clapped the thing around Gurney's ankle as he hit the ground.

"Broom, wake him up." (Now there is an interesting story. How Broom got his name. One of the newer trainees thought that it would be funny to to take a bet that the Bothan could be used as a litteral broom. Well, when he tried to pick him up, the furry veteran mopped the floor with his face. He put him on mess-hall duty for a week.) The Bothan medic perked up, pulled a hypo from his pack, and injected Gurney with a bit of fluid pick-me-up. Twenty five seconds elapsed, and then the combat instructor coughed, pulling himself up from the muck.

"I wasn't asking your opinion," West told the man as he stood, "or giving you the option. You aren't a POW. This is insurance for the saftey of my troops. When I tell you to jump, you jump. Listening to me is for your saftey."

Devries looked very, very unhappy.

"Now, what do you know about the local power grid, Devries?"

"Next to nothing."

West removed a datapad from his pack, showing power stations overlayed above the sewer system. They were two clicks from the nearest one.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya slid the door open, her gloved hands whispering over the metal as she poked her head into the hall. All clear. She beckoned to Turbogeek, and he passed her and moved silently into the passage, his cloak masking his shape.

Closing the door and relocking it she followed after her companion, wondering at the change that had come over him. He was so full of surprises that they shouldn't even surprise her anymore. She crept up behind him as they reached the third door on the right.

He looked back at her, and Arya waved him aside, trying the door. It opened easily, and she ushered him inside, closing it quietly behind them. The light from the hall disappeared, and they were lit by a single orange light from the sideboard.

Looking around, Arya quickly located the chute, and peered down it. Nothing blocking it. She spoke barely below a whisper. "You want to go first?" He shook his head, his face lit up eerily. Arya shrugged, and pulled herself into the chute, sitting on the edge of it. Frell, that looks steep. She pulled her blaster pistol from her holster, and swung her bag so she clutched it between the blaster and her chest. "Count to twenty and then follow me. See you at the bottom." And with that she let go and slid out of sight.

Air shot over her, and into her nose with such speed it made it difficult to breathe. Arya kept her mouth tightly shut to avoid any accidental noises, and her feet pointed down as she careened down the chute. Maybe I should have made that thirty...he weighs more than me...might fall faster and run into me. She pushed that thought aside just in time to fall into a pile of huge, white laundry bags.

Arya scrambled to the side, and shortly Turb came shooting out onto the laundry as well. In two minutes they were out of the laundry room and running for the back entrance to the hotel through the darkened halls.

In the laundry room, a rodent detector trap had recorded their movements as shadowy afterimages on its tiny holo chip at 00:45. At 02:18, it caught a mouse.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Whatever they were using was certainly effective in inducing pain. He was matted with sweat and he must have bitten his tongue in the last jolt, because he could taste blood. The smell was likely to have been his own skin burning too. So far, they hadn’t got the satisfaction of a scream and he was damned if he would, but this…. Agonising. These guys knew their job of torture and they knew it well, even if they didn’t have a clue about what to use on him chemically.

“Now, General. What were you doing here?” asked the interrogator in a silken voice.

“Looking for bathroom to take a dump” he grated back.

“Now, now… don’t be insulting…”

“Why not? The shitters were all overflowing and I still need to take the dump. What type of a place you run here?”

“You really should rethink yourself Tohmahawk… you really should. Helping our enquiries might lead us to releasing you alive”

“Oh bullshit. I’m not leaving this room alive and I know it. Why don’t you just get it over and done with?”

He could see the interrogator positively leer. “Oh no Tohmahawk. Your staying alive until we get answers from you. Rather interesting sword you had in your pack. Where did you get it?”

He relaxed. This was very safe ground. He decided to actually tell a bit of truth here.

“The sword and the sabre? Memento from a Jedi a friend of mine killed. Prehaps you heard of the Jedi, Darth Turbogeek? I was here on private business to sell both artefacts off to a private dealer”

“A…f riend?”

“Yeah, Force Master Hunter. Until you weasels tried to raid the Inn, negotiations were going well. Didn’t you know there’s big money to be made in Jedi items now?” The Interrogator looked ready to hit Tohmahawk again, when the tech who was monitoring the machines spoke again.

“He didn’t lie Sir”. Interrogator stopped, stared. And a large, smile broke on his face.

“And why were you doing that Tohmahawk? Aren’t you supposed to be on the same side?”

“No. I hate the Jedi. @#%$ bunch of freaks mainly”

“The report says you were seen with a man now identified as General Jyanis Scorpion, a Sith Lord with a rather…. Large bounty on his head. You think he’s a freak?”

“Nah, partner in crime. We have a few good scams going, He doesn’t like the Jedi either”

“He was dressed in a black NR uniform…”

“Window dressing. Adds more weight to what we do. Fact is…. Have you got on file what I’m supposed to be? Go on, find out It will say I’m a Major General, a few assignments… but I don’t seem to be in charge of anything. I’m a con artist and a scammer. I don’t exist”

The Interrogator looked up, obviously to find out from the tech if Tohmahawk was telling the truth. The look on his face spoke volumes. “So… if there is no Tohmahawk… who are you?”

“Corporal Skip Vatenen, AIG-77C, assigned to Yavin IV defence facility. You would have found my real ID with the sabre. How about that, you big catch needs to be thrown back. Feeling good about yourselves now?” Tohmahawk could see that they didn’t. The whole room was getting the air of desperation in fact.

“He has to be lying”

“Sorry sir, but not even a Jedi could beat a machine with a mind trick. He’s telling the truth”

“ Frell!” swore the Interrogator. Quite abruptly, there was the buzzing of a intercom and a voice came out of it.

“Goeing, what is going on please?”

“This isn’t Tohmahawk sir. We seem to have an impostor”. The intercom clicked off, then a moment later, a man came into the room. Tohmahawk didn’t recognise who this was, but he seemed to be someone important. The newcomer stared at Tohmahawk for a moment before speaking.

“Is there any doubt about what he said?”

“None sir. No being has ever successfully told a deliberate lie and beat the detectors”

A pause. “Well Vatenen, I suppose you have to be congratulated for quite a scam. I suppose you realise why you said still doesn’t get you out of a death sentence for killing of the security forces at the Crouching Tiger?”

“Better here than a spice mine if you know what I mean”

“Very well. Co-operate and we will make that end quick. Who was your other friends?”

“A woman, Ravenwing. She’s I think a smuggler. Not really certain, only ever met her twice. The other…. I can’t remember the name of right now. Never met him before”

“The Chiss really was General Scorpion?”

“Yes sir”

“Where did you meet Scorpion”

“Fire fight on Coruscant sir. I commanded one of his groups on a Hoth raid”

The new man regarded Tohmahawk in thought. “And where is the real Tohmahawk?”

“Dead sir. Has been for 8 years”

Stunned silence. Then… “Did that read true…?”

“Yes it did General Jax. There is no falsehood”

This General Jax swore magnificently. “You… duped everyone .. for 8 years?!?! How did you manage that Vatenen?”

“I’m pretty good General. I even had those @#%$ Jedi duped”

Jax grunted. “I’m impressed. Who’s the group of terrorists who destroyed the transmission tower?”

“Ummm…… I’m not sure Sir. I know of no tower being demolished. I really don’t know who did it”

Jax looked up. “True again?”

“Yes sir”.

Jax seemed to think, before coming to a decision. “Take him to where the Governor is. Tell him he can have some sport with this scum before he’s executed”. The General then turned and walked out, obviously disgusted

Tohmahawk mentally rolled his eyes. Great. Why not just execute him now?

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion shrugged what remained of his vest over his shoulders to protect his head. A light rain pattered across the streetscape. He didn't want too much of it in his hair. A moderate amount caused his silvery hair to sparkle, and what he really didn't need was to stand out anymore. Maybe if he kept to the shadows he could be mistaken for an old man.

He decided to rest awhile, sitting in an alcove built into what seemed to be an abandoned apartment complex. Raindrops rolled down his face as he sat and wondered what to do. Not just in the current situation, but beyond that. His own genetics puzzled him. His father was Chiss, and yet his mother was something else. It was familiar but too far for him he grasp.

The rain splashed down harder, and he pulled his feet up under the alcove with him, tucking his knees close to his chest as he stared. Something was wrong.

Pain!

He shot up to his feet, frantically looking around. Someone he knew was in alot of pain, considering the amount of force in the signal he received. But who?

Pain!

Tohmahawk. Tohmahawk? Tohmahawk was in pain! Scorpion ran out onto the sidewalk, look desperately around, but he could not find him. He was not near, and he could not sense him.

His eyes pointed to the ground, his vest had fallen back to where it was and rain was catching in his hair. His cybernetic eye illuminated the area with a green glow. The features on his face sharpened as a brief wave of rage flooded through him. His concept of use of the Force was now to be changed, and his abilities were weaker until he fully crossed over.

Let it flow through you...

"No!" He had heard countless stories of those who had thought they could turn to the Dark Side for just a short while, thinking they could go back, but they never did.

"I won't risk it! By good chance I made it over last time!"

He's your friend, and you will let him suffer...

Scorpion yelled out and spun around, swinging his arm out and plowing his right fist into the fore edge of the alcove, smashing a half circle out of the permacrete corner in a quick cloud of dust, smothered by the falling water. He dropped to his knees, his hands on his face, fingers spread over his eyes, and looked to nowhere.

[Lord Fire Blade]

“I’m not going to fight the Republic, Major. They wouldn’t be coming here if they didn’t have a good reason and …” the soldier looked at me, rather nervous. It would be understandable if he didn’t want to speak his mind with a enemy of the New Republic in their midst

“Governemnts come and go soldier. The Empire fell and it’s over. I have other things to do and much better ones than to defend a long dead bunch of fools”. My words seemed to bring some relief, but I still noticed their tension. Maybe they were thinking that I could wipe the floor with them, even if they outnumbered me 30 to 1. I’m good, but not that good. Maybe 20 of them at once.

“Allright my Lord… I won’t fight the Republic. I don’t believe they would come here just for their own benefit. I would prefer them over what we have now!”

“Your kidding…” said another soldier

“No I’m not! We elected our Governor to get rid of the corruption and the criminals and what did we get… we elected the biggest one of all! The army gets nothing, except for the goons in the Governors employ..”

“Have a care Private. How do you know one of us aren’t his spies?” said the Major quietly

“Sir, I don’t care anymore! My son was murdered by one of the gangs and we were forced to stand aside because we lacked the support up high. And this damn operation, you think it’s to get rid of anyone other than the Governor’s opposition?”

“Oh man, your talking mutiny or worse” moaned Hudson

“Is it mutiny when we do our job and defend our planet from it’s enemies, even if they are the politicians that govern?” snapped back the private.

I was gauging the relative feelings of the group as they began to argue. Of the 30 here, I would have said two were in full support of the private, the others had mixed feelings, judging by the expression on their faces. Ramjet remained impassive. He was a hard one to pick, the Major. The fact was, this was a backwater planet and you wouldn’t expect this level of feeling from the citizens. This was quite unexpected and I had to admit, since I had been here I had never seen it either. I had been somewhat self absorbed though…

“Enough! Hudson, Hicks! It doesn’t matter what you think, your under MY command and you do what I tell you. Got it? And right now, I’ve given command to the Guardsman, so he says for us to roger goats, we do it. Have I made myself clear?”

“Hudson wouldn’t need a order to want to roger a goat”. There was some laughter as Hudson looked offended. Some of the tension seemed to ease as well.

“Very well, we go find this Jedi and ask him what the New Republic intends” I stated. “You troops be ready in one minute. Major, with me please. I want to speak to you”

Ramjet nodded and moved over to where I had stepped, far enough away so a quiet conversation couldn’t be overheard. “Major, where do you stand? Speak freely, it won’t be held against you, not this time. Has the Governor bought in any hired help”

“Well…. Yes he has. Couple of Admirals and there is a new General, Jax I think he is. If I was to guess, he’s running the show. Let me tell you my Lord, the people here are desperate to be rid of the corruption and the criminals. But there’s not enough to do anything my Lord”

“And yourself?”

Ramjet sighed “I’m only a soldier my Lord, I’d like to think I’m a pretty good one. I’ll follow orders even if they’re bad ones. But if the New Republic are really coming… they must have a good reason” He stopped, then continued “I had a family, but they were killed years ago by a speeder bomb. They were visiting me at my barracks. Suicide bombing. I’ve….only had their memory to keep me honest. If the push came, I’d rather surrender than oppose anyone coming to wipe the scum out of this place”

I could feel my emotions tugging at me too. So, he had lost loved ones as well?

“Major.. I understand. Believe me I do. But before we go any further, we should go find this Jedi. Find out what’s really going on”

“My Lord, this is a big city. We wont be able to find him if he doesn’t want to be found”

“Don’t worry Major, I have a Jedi Beckon call. We’ll find him”

Ramjet looed surprised. “A what?”

My hand dipped into my robes and brought fourth my rarely used lightsabre. “A Jed Beckon Call. No Jedi could ever resist coming when this thing is on” I could see in his eyes, he understood now. “Your troops will remain 15 paces behind me and to the sides of the street. Follow me but do not interfere. Understand?”

“Yes my Lord… what will you be doing?”

I looked at him through the helmet visor, my voice deep and snarling. “Making my presence known. You have your orders”

I walked past everyone and right into the middle of the street, ignited the sabre, producing a blood red blade that matched the colour of my armour. I could hear a curse muffled, but I ignored it. I closed my eyes, tapped into the Force.

JEDI! COME FACE ME, I AM LORD FIRE BLADE! I sent the cry out via the Force, felling it echo in my own senses. COME JEDI! WOULD YOU BE A COWARD? FACE LORD FIRE BLADE IF YOU DARE!

If it was who I suspected, the reaction would be quick. I proceeded to walk down the road, right in the middle, daring anyone to attack or at the least challenge me.

[Gurney Devries]

Although his mouth was about the only part of his face visible, it still twisted into a plain look of distaste. He owed this New Rep guy one for that stunt... a big one. That was a sucker punch if Gurney ever saw one. And he hated being sucker punched. He opened his mouth and was about to say as much to Nathan when it came.

"Arrrrgh!", he cried out.

He staggered, and then stumbled. He tried to collect himself, force himself to stand. But the roar filled his head with the mental equivilant of white noise. It lasted for only a few moments, but echoes in his head for some time after. What was that? It almost sounded like a... voice? A voice. Great. Now he was losing it. In a few days time, Gurney Devries would probably be locked up in a nice padded room with a brand new white coat. Hearing voices... terrific. What next?

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion let the rain soak what was left of his upper garments. He knew there was no immediate answer to his problems, so he lifted his head from his hands and looked upon the city within his view, thinking outloud about whatever he could to help him get on his way.

"What the hell should I do? I'm hungry, maybe I should get something to eat... Nah, judging by the crap I drank back the inn, I don't want to try anything in a solid form. O-k-a-y, hunger's gone. Now what?"

He stood up straighter and unconsciously took a deep breath through his nose while he thought. If only someone would come to him and give him an idea of what to do.

JEDI! COME FACE ME, I AM LORD FIRE BLADE!

His eyes went a slight wider, "Wow, that was pretty damn fast."

COME JEDI! WOULD YOU BE A COWARD? FACE LORD FIRE BLADE IF YOU DARE!

Scorpion took disguised lightstaff from his pocket, unscrewing the fake lasertorch elements and extending the butt of it, taking it to its full size. He looked down on the weapon, a symbol of what used to be, and snapped it over his knee. He took the knob from the broken end and jammed it into what remained, a regular lightsaber, with only one blade. That's all he needed now. The blue beam of light shot out, engulfing the thin layer of water on the ground with a fiery glow. Reaching over, he picked up a small, thin piece of durasteel from the steps under the alcove, and held it over the blade, ever so carefully, until the tip turned white hot. He slid it around the knob until it slowly melted somewhat into the handle. It would suffice.

The blade of light disappeared as quick as it came, and he walked down the street towards the call and the caller, leaving behind footprints in the sheet of rain, only briefly, with no signatures to where he once was.

[Nathan W3st]

JEDI! COME FACE ME, I AM LORD FIRE BLADE!

COME JEDI! WOULD YOU BE A COWARD? FACE LORD FIRE BLADE IF YOU DARE!

"Broom, did you stick with me with some serious hallucinogenic goods and forget to tell me?"

The Bothan's fur rose a bit, and then flattend again. The look on West's face was clear enough to know he wasn't serious, but also wanted a genuine answer.

"No sir."

Great. Hearing voices from nowhere, yelling something about Jedi. And who the hell was Lord Fire Blade?

Gurney looked like he had heard a ghost, or the same voice.

"Devries did you just hear..."

"Yeah." He still looked royal peeved at West. Too bad. Nathan sighed. Some lunatic was doing some wide spectrum broadcast with the Force, and as much fun it would be to load him (Lord usually meant him) with 5.56mm or .50x2, taking out the power grid was more important.

The Lone Wolves decided it was time to move, and wreak some havok.

Getting to the power station took about thrity minutes, because some of the old sewer system had been blocked off, and somone hadn't bother to document it, so they double backed twice. They were collectively grateful they weren't trying to do the same thing on Courscant.

The workers were surprised when fifteen people came through a hole that had suddenly apeared in the floor cut by a glowing blade, and told them to run for their lives. Very few needed any convincing, especially with all the weaponry they had.

"Who knows anything about power systems?

Three raised their hands, including Olaf.

"Turn everything you can off, and then make sure it can't be turned back on for another week."

There was a short bit of chatter in response.

"Committee on blowing objective up has decided that you follow us around, and once we finish turning it off, shoot it up."

"Alright. Three groups. Devries, follow with me. Loaf, pick your people. Arden, same. Spannik, with me. Save ammo where you can, so use blasters."

West took the lightsaber off his belt and activated it.

"I have my own prefered instrument of destruction."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya paused outside the building, standing still in the back alley, ankle deep in some foul smelling swill. Turb stood right behind her, so close the back of her neck was almost touching his shoulder. There was a light rain falling, but they would be able to make good time to the spaceport. It was a few klicks away, through the main part of the city, but they would make it. She put her hand against the wall, and then brought it back to her face, inspecting the greasy mud that was on her glove.

She lacked a hood like Turbogeek, and knew that her face was very pale, especially in moonlight, or, if this storm got any worse, lightning. Arya grimaced slightly, and then closed her eyes and spread the greasy substance on her face and neck, covering her skin completely. Their freedom depended on not being seen, and, foul though it was, the grease wouldn't wash off in the rain.

Turbogeek watched her in silence, standing with his hood nearly completely covering his face and dripping with water already. The rain was picking up slightly, at least in their section of the city. Arya strapped her blaster holster to her hip, tying it down carefully around her thigh. She hoisted her bag up onto her back, arms through the handles like an oversized backpack, and motioned to Turbogeek. "We move out. Don't talk unless you absolutely have to from now on."

He nodded, hood bobbing up and down, and then they began walking quickly down the alleyway. And then they both stopped short in their tracks, Arya clamping her hands over her ears, and Turbogeek cocking his head towards the night sky. The challenge of Lord Fire Blade rocketed between Arya's ears, and her knees literally went weak, but she kept her feet.

When the words were gone, she turned to Turbogeek, but he was faster. "What the frell was that?!"

Arya shushed him out of instinct. But she shook her head slowly. "I have no idea..." Whatever it had been, it hurt like hell going through her head. "I hope it wasn't you this Fire Blade was talking to. If it was...or even if it wasn't, we're still getting the frell out of here."

Enough small talk. She grabbed his arm, and pulled him after her as they ran down the alley.

[Darth Turbogeek]

His head was still ringing from that… what the frell was it? All he heard was a roar in his head, like nothing he had ever in it’s power. He was certain it didn’t come through his ears….

And he didn’t expect to feel like he got tripped up and pushed into Arya back a second later. Nor the sudden burning pain in his leg and the late registering of a blaster shot. Another bolt of light screamed over their heads as they both tumbled, Ravenwing righting herself first. Turbogeek felt a searing heat on the surface of his thigh. The only thing he could think of was a blaster shot had glanced his leg. He hardly noticed Arya had come up with blaster in hand and neatly dispatched two security troops.

“What happened?” she snapped at him

He was delicately seeing how bad the hit was, moving to get back to his feet. He found he could, plus he could see the burn mark on his cloak, which steamed slightly from the rain. Turbogeek realised he had skidded through a puddle too and was soaked. “I think… hit on the leg. Not bad”

Yes it was, he could see in her face. It would slow them down. Maybe fatally.

“Arya, look..”

“I don’t frelling want to hear it! If you fall behind, you get left behind, okay??”

Not it wasn’t okay and he wasn’t sure she was serious, certainly sounded that way. But he could see in her eyes he was a liability now. In his short existence that he could remember, he had never felt shame, nor had he ever had such a concept explained to him, thence he had no way the choking he felt and the blurring of his eyes felt so… wrong. It wasn’t his fault and yet he was going to prevent their escape…

“HALT!!”

The yell came from behind. Arya cursed, then began to run. Yelling for Turbogeek to follow. He tried.. but his leg wouldn’t respond. He could only manage a few steps. In despair, he turned to look at the squad of four troops, all with guns pointed at him.

Nowhere to run …

“C’MON!” Her yell was further away. He could only stare pathetically at where she was, no a good distance away and partially around a corner. A blaster shot splattered the wall near her face and in a blink she had disappeared.

She’s left me behind… she really meant it… please, no…

No…

No.

NO

NNNOOOOOOO!!!!!!!!

Despair began to give way to anger. It wasn’t his fault. It was the fault of these men with guns, men he didn’t know, who had shot his leg… for what? His eyes were misting over but itwasn’t the burning wetness, it was a redness… a mist. Under his hood, his lips drew back in a snarl….


……


“TURB!! PLEASE STOP!!! PLEASE!!!!

His racing heart slowed and he seemed to come out of a long, dark tunnel. He turned to the voice, to see that it was Arya… and her eyes were huge, plus her tone of her voice was filled with…? Fear?

But he was delighted to see her. She hadn’t left him! Overjoyed he actually leapt at her and gave her a huge hug. “You didn’t leave me!”

She cringed. “Please… put that .. thing… down”

“Huh?” He was indeed carrying something softish and when he looked at it, it took him a moment to realise what it was.

A human arm. He squarked and dropped it, leaping backwards. He tripped on something, falling flat. The ground was sticky and not like rain..

“What… did you… do?” Arya whispered. He would say she was in shock or in wonder by her tone and body language. Turbogeek was about ask ‘Do what?’ when he realised what his hand was in. He glanced around.

And was on his feet in a blinding flash, backing away in horror and disgust. There was blood everywhere as well as pieces of something at used to be human. There was a indistinict memory…

“I.. errr… I think I beat them up with that arm I dropped Arya” he said a bit sheepishly.

“I think… I’m going to be ..ill…” she said, turning away.

Actually, he thought he would be too, but it didn’t stop him from picking up one of the carbines for his own. “Are you okay? Do you need a hand?”

She turned to him, appalled. “That’s sick!”

“Eh? Oh…. I’m sorry. Ummm…. Something funny happened. I got angry when I thought you were leaving and… I found myself like this” And all these pieces of person scattered around the road.

She closed her eyes and shuddered. “Please…. I don’t want to talk about it. Lets go”

“Did you see..”

“YES I DID! SHUT UP AND FOLLOW ME!”

Bewildered, he did so, limping on his hurt leg, which seemed to be less painful. He would have to ask Jeseth about this. And try to remember what happened, especially that darkness he had seemed to have been wrapped in.

In the distance, an explosion rang out.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce's eyes narrowed as he thought about this information. It sounded plausible on the face of it.

But no. There were too many uncertainties in the equation.

Item number one was the fact that the prisoner was undoubtedly part alien. Without an established medical baseline for this hybrid species, there was no way to accurately determine his veracity. The monitors in the next room might easily be fooled by the wrong mix of biochemical elements.

Item number two, Pierce reminded himself as he looked at the lightsaber and sword sitting next to him, was that there was a good probability Vatenan, as he called himself, was really a Jedi. Though it was not common knowledge, Pierce was aware that Jedi could alter their physical functions to various extents. Even pulling the obvious hybridity from the mix, without an ysalamiri around to ensure the lack of the Force Pierce could not know whether the prisoner was altering his body to give off readings the machine would pick up as truthful statements.

The timing of his presence, the destruction of the Governor's mansion, the appearance of a NarSpecOp team- it was all too coincidental.

On the other hand, Pierce had long ago learned that two parts truth to one part lie was an effective mix. If part of Tomahawk/Vatenan's story was true and the rest lies, all that remained was for him to trick Vatenan into revealing which was which.

A plan formed in his mind, one he liked. He turned to one of the information specialists in the room with him. "Prepare the prisoner for transfer up to the execution chamber," he stated. "The Governor and I will work on him a bit up there."

"Yes sir," the specialist nodded. "What should we do with these?"

He was pointing at the sword and lightsaber that had been recovered with the prisoner. Neither one was a weapon he was really willing to leave lying around, especially since there was a man down in medical who had apparently recieved severe frostbite from touching the sword. "Wrap the sword and send it up to Admiral Jeger," Pierce stated, picking the lightsaber up and holding it in his hand. He hefted it slightly, gauging its' weight and potential usefulness to a Jedi. "Tell him it's a gift he might like. Don't bother warning him about it- I'll tell him myself. This I'll keep with me."

"Yes, sir," the specialist nodded.

Pierce turned to leave and winced suddenly. "Are you all right, sir?" the specialist asked.

"I'm fine," Pierce replied. "This operation is just giving me a headache."

The specialist saluted, then turned to issue transfer orders. Pierce returned the salute and left.

######

The standoff that had been present when Pierce had left the room of the Joint Chiefs was still there when he got back. Olar looked almost relieved to see him.

"New plans," he stated as he entered the room. "We're going to put on a showy little execution for our prisoner."

"Did you get anything from him?" Yevyss asked.

Pierce snorted. "Nothing I would consider hard information. I want to sort the truth from the lies and Vatenan, as he calls himself, seems to me not to like getting innocents involved in his business. An awful lot like another Republic prisoner I once interrogated who turned out to be lying on several counts."

"So he is useless."

"Not if we play our cards right," Pierce replied. "I figure that if we threaten to gas some civilians- the alien quarter, perhaps, since he's a hybrid- his tongue might loosen up."

Yevyss and Olar exchanged a look, which Pierce ignored. "Jeger," he said. The hologram jumped. "I sent you a little gift- a sword the prisoner was carrying. Finely crafted, but don't touch it because it's dangerous."

"Why?"

"I just think that since we're going to be working together, we need to bury the hatchet for the moment."

Jeger frowned and exchanged a look with Olar and Yevyss. "Well?" he shouted. "Let's move!"

Yevyss and Olar both looked at each other again and were slow in standing. Pierce didn't like the looks on their faces, but he had more important matters to attend to.

Like an execution.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

They placed him in some sort of chamber, dragging him the whole distance as he didn’t have the strength to hold himself upright. Surprisingly, it wasn’t to the Governor as this Jax had said, but to this small room, bare, with one chair which he had been thrown into, then strapped into. The lack of interrogation equipment, but the existence of one sole holocam suggested this places purpose – execution chamber, used for holovised fun and games. Oh great. He was going to be made an example of, just what he always wanted.

Tohmahawk rolled his eyes upwards to stare at the pale white ceiling. There wasn’t really much else to do right now… and he didn’t really want to think. He had heard at times like this, when death was certain, a being went through their life to find some sort of meaning and a purpose. He had to admit, that was the last thing he wanted to do. Whatever he tried, whatever he did seemed to end up just resulting an an ever spiralling carosel of pain.

He had tried, he honestly had. But no matter what he did, all his efforts to make a better life for himself had ended up for nothing, complete and utter nothing. It made him sick to think of how much he had tried and failed. What a pathetic and shameful waste of a life, doing nothing, meaning nothing. The more he had tried, the more he had found himself trapped in a cycle he could never break out of. Completely trapped and never able to escape in life.

But in death… it would be over. Gone, out of here. And that damn voice in his head was quiet too right now. Stepping off and into the abyss never looked to him to be so good. Spinning around and around, never able to stop until he stepped off for good.

His thoughts were broken by the door opening and several men stepping in. A few musclebound goons, a tech type, a doctor and a few head brass type. One man in civilian uniform, an Admiral and this General Jax again.

“Did you sell tickets? Does my estate get a cut of the proceeds?” snapped Tohmahawk.

“For a man about to die, you certainly have a good deal of bravado, Vatenen” That was from the civilian.

“And who the hell are you?”

“I am the Governor of this planet, Governor Yvette. I would like to ask you some questions Vatenen and if you don’t answer them fully and truthfully, we are going to gas the entire alien quarter. Seems you are alien yourself, would you enjoy dying knowing you were responsible for the deaths of your fellows?” He smirked as Tohmahawk stared at him in disbelief.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya's stomach heaved, but nothing came out, except a burning sensation as her body tried to empty itself of its contents. She gritted her teeth and tried to forget what she had seen as she jogged around the corner again. Turbogeek was limping along behind her, the rain coming down in sheets now.

She looked over her shoulder and saw the mess in the alley again. A white steamy mist was rising around the ...area... and the walls that had been punctuated by blaster bolts had smoke or steam rising from them as well. In the center of it all, eerily quiet, was a reddish mound. Arya could almost see the whiteness of exposed thigh bones, or skull, and rib cages glistening in the artificial lighting. Blood was seeping into the ground, and being carried away by the rainwater to the sewers in a crimson trail. In the split second that she viewed it, the scene was seared into her memory for eternity.

Biting her lip, Arya turned her head to the front and kept her legs moving. Then she grinned into the rain. Well, he's not helpless after all. Just didn't want to get on the wrong end of that temper. She slid a little in the growing mud, but kept her feet as another explosion rang out in the night air.

Besides that, everything was silent, and only the splash/squish of the water under their feet made any noise. It was eeriely silent in the captitol of Arcan IV.

Arya's third eye lit up the area around her, and she kept a close eye on Turbogeek without seeming to. He was struggling, but keeping up with her pace. She had been serious about leaving him, but his cries had pulled her back, if only to put a bolt in him to shut him up. When it came down to life and death...she was going to look out for number one. He was too much of a liability, and not much good in a fight.

Although, it seemed she was wrong. He had literally torn one trooper apart, and then beat the other one to death. Arya had shot two of them, but... She blinked her eyes, dispelling the disturbing vision of blood. She took a right, and they jogged on into the night.

Dawn was slowly approaching, and so was the spaceport. They would reach the latter under the cover of darkness, probably around 03:00 if all went without a hitch. Arya grimaced, and slipped again, hands down to the street before she righted herself. Since when do things go as planned for me?

[Gurney Devries]

With a groan, Gurney pushed himself back to his feet. Gingerly, he rubbed his fingertips together: They were still tingling from touching the plastique.

"What was that, Devries?"

He grunted. "Just stating how much of an @#%$ you are... sir!"

"Yeah, yeah... I'd say you'd thank me later, but you won't."

With a flick of his wrist, Nathan closed down the lightsaber and returned it to his belt hook in one deft motion. The smoldering remains of the computer console glared angrily at him, but he paid it little mind.

"Alright. That does it for this one. We've got two more to go, and then we -", Nathan cut himself off, cocking his head to one side.

The combat instructor frowned: Something was obviously up. Had West feline ears, Gurney was sure he'd seem them perk up right about now. Although he wanted to ask what it was the military boy had heard, he stayed silent, trying to hear it for himself. At first, there was nothing other than the dull hum from the nearby machinery. Gurney strained some more; If that strapling could hear something, then damn it, he was going to hear it, too. His eyes widened a bit, and he turned back to West.

"Those...?"

"Footsteps, yes. They're sloshing through the sewers behind us. Whoever it is, they aren't very stealthy."

Nathan seemed to consider his own words for a moment, before nodding to the side of the room's one door. Wordlessly, both men flanked the doorway. Gurney still didn't have any weapon on him, but Mr. Big Shot here was going to find out that he didn't need one to do some damage.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce enjoyed seeing Vatenan's facial expression crack, finally. Unconventional warfare sometimes took awhile, but always yielded a result.

"That's right, Vatenan," he cut in smoothly, sliding his sentence in just before the Governor could speak. "It's simple logic- Keep It Simple Stupid simple. You are an alien. You are seeking to broker merchandise with another alien. Where can you do this and not be noticed? The city's alien quarter."

Pierce tapped a console and a holographic map of the city sprung into existence before the gas chamber. The southward section of it was lit up- coincidentally, that was the section in and around the Crouching Tiger Inn, or what was left of it. If Pierce was right and the NR had infiltrated that area, their forces would theoretically be killed at the same time, thus creating a nice double-net.

That was a ruse, of course. It was simply illogical to gas part of the capital's population. Desmond Yevyss couldn't afford to do that, be it economically, politically, or militarily. But there was no way Skip Vatenan knew that Yevyss wasn't some dreg-sifting politician whose only concern was his own hide.

"That's crazy," Vatenan objected.

"Well, you can always give us the specifics of your deal," Pierce continued. "We can apprehend the individuals involved. Or, if you were just feeding us a load of lies and you do work for the NR, you can publicly confess to your crimes and attacks, Major Tohmahawk."

"Tohmahawk is dead!" the prisoner shouted, somehow finding the strength to hammer at the side of the gas chamber with one hand.

Even as Pierce watched, Vatenan's energy seemed to leave him in midswing and his voice dropped. "Long dead."

"He might be," Pierce said calmly. Vatenan looked up, and Pierce caught his eyes. "But you're here now. You can decide the fate of a lot of people depending on how honest you choose to be. It doesn't take much- all you have to do is realize the responsibility sitting on your shoulders and cooperate with what we're asking for. It will save lives of people you'll never meet. They might never know it to thank you, but you'll know."

Vatenan glared, but deep within his eyes, Pierce could see a hollowness to the facial expression. Something had reached Skip Vatenan in some way. Pierce was just uncertain what it was.

"It's the truth," Vatenan said simply.

So the bluff had been called. Pierce held Vatenan's eyes a moment longer, but the case was academic. There was no gas artillery in place, no way to compel Vatenan to talk. Not that Pierce would have pulled the trigger in this case. Unconventional warfare meant you fought the enemy and those you suspected were the enemy, not people who were unrelated to the situation.

"Fire the gas charges, then," Yevyss announced from behind him, in a voice that was smug with satisfaction.

Satisfaction, and a hint that something was very, very wrong.

Pierce slowly turned around to see Yevyss smiling proudly. Abruptly, the looks that Desmond had exchanged with Olar and Jeger resurfaced in Pierce's memory. They hadn't been impressed by his willingness to put aside personal dislikes in order to keep unit integrity.

They'd seen it as a sign of weakness.

And they'd seen his idea to trick Vatenan as a sign of weakness as well. They wanted to use gas and wipe out the bad aliens along with the good. They wanted to take the threat Pierce's plan had given them and make it work.

With Tau Team and Intel Division Delta units in place elsewhere, and Guri on a separate undercover mission, there was no one in the room he could use to take control of things.

People were going to die needlessly, and there was nothing he could do to stop it.

[Count Mordrid]

Elsewhere, outside of Bast Castle, a shadow scurried along the floor. It melted against the cracks etched into the metallic surface of the main entrance, vanishing. Winds seemed to lick up whatever bit of dark was left lingering upon the ground. A rustling of loose rocks echoed up above a cliff about thirty meters away. A pale, brutally shattered hand, peaked up above the rock face, taking an unsteady grip. Blond hair followed the hand's appearance, an elbow propping up over the edge of the cliff shortly after. It was the face of Aaron Grimm... but with eyes and a soul which no longer matched.

Mordrid, are you free now? A silent whisper echoed through the Force. The voice of hundreds who had died within Bast and alongside it. Only Mordrid, and perhaps the lady Nya Halcyon, could hear those voices.

Yes... I am. The reply came uneasily, timidly. Count Mordrid had been trapped within Bast for a century, executed for attempted regicide by non other than Darth Vader himself. Palpatine was long dead, and times different. The fancifully dressed man was in an era he had never known.

They say that the Jedi and the Sith are at war with one another again. Will you make them pay? Make them all pay... for us? The booming echo now continued to seethe into the young man's mind, which was loosely held together at best.

They had shared their knowledge, and now they would pay the price. No. There was a monumental scream of agony and shock, then silence. Mordrid collapsed onto the edge of the cliff and fell into a deep state of torpor.

[Liam Jinn]

Liam straightened his black NRSF uniform for the second time. Yog had arrived awile ago and still hadn't made it to the bridge yet. Hopefully he didn't get lost or attacked by Tohmahawks cat. Liam let out a sigh of relief as the final systems were checked and double checked on the Defender. All lights were green, and it was about time to. As he looked at the chrono to his left he swore silently. Damn, they had cut it close. This ship better not breakdown mid-jump, it had taken 18 hours to get the damn thing to run effeciently. Liam shook his head, then walked over the the comm officer. He gave him a signal to open up a frequency to the fleet.

"Ok people, times up. Set the coordinates for Arcan IV."

Liam switched frequencies from the fleet to the innercom on the Defender.

"Master Yog, get your green tail up here, we're ready to jump."

He looked back at the chrono and switched back frequencies.

"When the chrono hits red, all units jump to hyperspace. Set astronavigation computers for designated rendezvous point "Epsilon". Starting countdown... 5.. 4.. 3.. 2.. 1.... engage hyperdrives!"

Liam watched the stars turn into thin lines as the fleet jumped. Some people were gonna be in for a big surprise soon. He turned around and went to the trubolift to go and search for Yog.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

Tohmahawk just stared in stunned horror at the Governor and this General Jax. They wouldn’t do it… only someone as callous and as evil as the Emperor would just kill an innocent population. Himself and his comrades in arms, you could accept them dying, you were military and death was just a risk you took. But civilians…

“You bastard! Your not human, you’re a bloody animal!”

“Your fault Vatenen or whatever you are. Should have told us the truth…”

“But I did! How can you..”

“Easily. Admiral, do it” ordered Yveyss “No… belay that. Lets execute our alien here first.”

“Yeah, do it publicly too. Go on, why don’t you show those about to die what your going to do to them. Come on Yveyss why don’t you..” yelled Tohmahawk, now fighting furiously against the straps. But even against his strength, they held fast.

“That’s not a bad idea, even for an alien. Yes, do it” said Yveyss, thoughtfully.

“But..”

“Shut up Jax. Your concern for expendable life is irritating me. Can you turn the holocam on… Are we on…? Good. Citizens of Arcan IV! Despite the lateness of the hour, we bring you the Execution of a alien who had come to bring down all we had built here, an alien who was directly responsible for the destruction around the Crouching Toger Inn earlier tonight and the deaths of 50 of your fellow citizens. For this shocking crime he now loses his own life! Let this be an example for all who would seek to disrupt our way of life and bring trouble to our peaceful planet!”

Tohmahawk just couldn’t believe it. Not struggling as it was proving useless, he toned his voice for maximum volume. “Just wait, the real criminal I’ll kill with my own hands! Yveyss is going to..AAAAGGGGGHHHHH!!!!”

His body arched as two needles came out of the chair and rammed into his back. A second later, he felt red hot agony flow through his veins, then he could feel his own heart pause and freeze. His whole body went into a convulsion as the lethal injection flamed it’s way through his body. Vital functions shut down in response to the cardiac arrest. He was dead this time. There was no way out, the true irony being he didn’t want to die. He wanted to put his hands around this Governor’s neck and crush it and stop this madman… but it was too late. There was no escape for him this time.


…..



…..

As death caught him, his mind began to flick backwards. He had heard your life flashed before your eyes at the point of death, but he never quite expected it like this. His entire life was laid bare. He had seen so much but it was odd what was highlighted. The burning sun of TerraAustralias, blazing on a small boy as he waded on the beach. Not being a planet that knew about the Force, there was always something odd about this boy. The way he could do things that no one could explain. He had no friends because of his strangeness, so he spent his days and nights roaming the deserts and beaches of this harsh land. Living day to day, he fell in with what the people in the Big Smoke called the Larrikins. People lie Rancor Dundee, who had been offplanet and seen some of the Galaxy. Maximillion, who they called Mad Max. Russel Magpie. Nikkie Kidder. They called hin Tohmahawk, even if it wasn;t his real name. No one but himself knew what that was.

There was a day, like all the other… except for a woman, who walked as if under a great burden. He didn’t know then his home was one of the highest rated planets, gravity wise that beings lived on. All he knew was he was small for his age, everyone else was wide and stocky. He was thin, which was most unusual. The woman had come to him as he was building sandcastles using only his mind. She stared at him, then came closer.

“How… do you that?” She asked, trying to hide her amazement”

“I dunno. Just can” the young boy replied.

She had convinced him to come with her. Told him she could explain and teach him this power he had. Being young and adventuresome, he agreed. She had taken him from a burning and heavy grav planet in the Unknown Regions, to Debrillion. It was a cold place, well cold for him. And here he learned about what beings normally lived in. The absolute freedom of a normal gravity planet was amazing. He could do leaps and jumps that left the humans he was now associating with in amazement. He was always on the small side, but he was way beyond normal in strength and speed. He learned at he could take more of a pummelling, due he found out to a higher density of muscle and bone. He would spend time in a special grav room to make sure his body didn’t lose it’s adaptation..

Years passed and he learned. Not swiftly as he was a poor student. But she persisted as he had power in the Force like she hadn’t seen in years. Eventually he began to master The Force, bending it to his will. He was taught to fight with sabre and gun, with his body. He learned control. He learned anger and rage. And they stayed hidden in the years that rolled by. He aged much, much slower than she did, he was barely into manhood when she was becoming a old crone. They travelled in the years of the Empire, using the years of chaos to begin building a power base for themselves. She was to rule and to take revenge on a Galaxy that, she said, tried to kill her. She said her name was Callista. He never really knew if that was true or not. She called him Venom. Others called him other names. But never did he say what his real name was.

The Empire fell. They watched it from afar and she knew her time was coming. The Galaxy was in chaos as a new government arose. A new breed of Jedi Knights, lead by Luke Skywalker arose. He never really knew why she hated Skywalker, but drove Callista on. Years past. She kept gathering resources, quietly moving in stealth and hiding, determined not to make the mistakes that plagued Dark Siders in the past. He kept training, honing and tuning what she now called the ultimate weapon. He stood by her side as she sat and ruled the shadow Empire of her own creation, ruled from Debrillion in secret. He learned from her and when he could learn no more, he researched and learned under his own volition.

There were the beasts he commanded, the Vog’on. There was the financial institutions they took over and controlled. There was the willing servants and the slaves. Callista understood that to have real power was to control the money and the information of the Republic and year by year, her goal got closer.

It lead to what he knew now was the beginning of the end. The cloning experiment. She was fascinated by the Clone Wars, she wanted to create what she called the Ultimate being. He didn’t like the sound of that, but he stayed quiet. It was not his place to dispute his Mistress. They built two cylinders, deep in a forest location and underground. They set the old man to guard them. They used genetic material from him and in one tube, set it to grow without modification. The other was horrific. 8.5 feet, utterly huge, pushed to the limited of the genome. The computer model showed a human, sliced with his genes, producing a Force user of immense natural strength and speed. The reach alone would be a formidable advantage. She had come to where the clones were being grown and she had stared in almost lust. She had stroked the cylinder of the massive clone and called it Her Venom. He was shocked, her using the same name as she used for him. For the first time, he realised he could be expendable. What could she do if this beast of a clone turned out what she wanted? Would he be tossed aside? He knew how ruthless she was.

And still, no one knew his real name.

It was shortly after he turned 100, Galactic Standard. Callista was beginning to make moves on her enemies and wiping them out, one by one. He was her Assassin, but yet in his mind, he remembered the clones. The huge one was progressing well, the control one perfectly. He could see it in her eyes every time they visited the cloning room. Could see what he meant.

He stopped believeing in her cause. He could never say exactly when, but one day he realised he could no longer devote his energy to it fully. He began to roam and sought to prove himself. He found these Jedi and one by one attacked and defeated them. The name Callista used for him began to beknown elsewhere. It was whispered in the halls of power. A Shadow Warrior that took sadistic delight in taking apart anything that came against him. He bore two sabres, a skillhe had learned in secret. And he studied the Jedi Arts, increasing his knowledge and skill. He became known in his black fighting armor and the strange powers he wielded over fire, wind, water and earth. He sought to make himself great, so Callista would never let him go. And he indeed did, for she wanted him to be insecure in his position and to push the boundaries. Callista knew clones were mentally unstable and that none of them could match what she had created for over 80 years. It was nearly time to pass on the mantle, for she was old. She intended for the clones to be his servants and she even told him such. But he still had the feeling there was something wrong.

He first met Jyanis Scorpion when Jyanis was the apprentice of The Darkness Keeper. It seemed they were the end lines of a Prophecy called Dark Fury. For Scorpion was the mantle of Judge, Him was Ruler. The Keeper passed onto Callista the Amulet of the Portal. Only a Dark Sider could unlock that and if they did, they would rule. It seemed the Vog’on were to be the Ruler’s servants. The Judge was to make sure the Ruler was worthy. The time was coming of the Choosing. It made no sense to him.

His feelings of wrongness increased.

Finally, she ordered him to kill a bothersome official on Harrvii. He had gone there and had encountered the family huddled in fear as he stormed in, sabre raised and anger helping tap into the Dark Side. He was poised… and saw the terrified eyes of the daughter and son. Shay Kaylon and Gregori Paladin. He hesitated… and dropped his sabre. He couldn’t do it. Not innocents. He felt the hate try again but he just couldn’t move. An enemy he could destroy in a blink, but he could never kill helpless children, not knowingly, not by his own hand. To the family’s amazed relief, he left, dazed and confused. He could never go back to his Mistress. Not when he failed. He took up a place on the planet while he tried to work out what next. He felt empty and alone, without the dark Side. The Force was repellent and he placed his blade in answer, hoping never to use it again.

But the coming of the Vog’on stripped any hopes of escape away. They had come one night, trapped all on the planet and then at their leisure, killed and ate every single living entity. He could never talk about the horrors he saw, the brave fights, the desperation of the humans trying to escape. Sent by Callista in a revenge attack for his failure, every man woman and child they found was consumed. He had tried to fight back and even found and reclaimed his sabre, but it was no use. Far too many. In a last stand, he had rescued the same family and the troops holed up in a mansion and found one of the last working starships. Incredibly, they had escaped, but not before Kaylon, Paladin and him were separated from the main escapees. They too escaped, barely – and in that escape he had met Helenias.

The two children they had delivered to an aging Luke Skywalker, then he and Helenias had gone together, for they found themselves to be kindred souls. Together they travelled to remote places of the galaxy, they talked and talked and after she told him her secrets, he had told her something he had never said before to anyone.

He told her his name.

Their love become powerful and a wonderful healer. They discovered passion for each other and would make love when they could. For the first time, he felt loved and he gave love. The bond between them grew and grew to become stronger than any tie he ever knew. And on one glorious day, they wed. She shared his name. He could think of no greater love.

But Callista never rested. She found them. And in one horrific day, she lured them into a trap. They were on a bridge when a bomb exploded. The last vision of his wife was her falling to her death, before he was knocked out. Her hand reaching desperately, her eyes wide with horror… and he could do nothing as she fell.

Days later, he awoke in a strange place. A soft bed. A medical centre unlike any he had ever seen. A woman bustled over, placed a hand on his head. For a moment he felt a glorious warmth, until he realised who it was. It was Jedi Padawan Mirax, Jedi healer. He had been bought to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. How he had come there was not entirely clear, but it seemed that a Jedi had been near the bridge and had cut down an assassin seeking to end his life. Grateful for their help, he had stayed after his healing was over. Amazed how the Jedi looked after what was an enemy of theirs, he had begun to try to find out why. He found things he never knew existed – compassion, peace. Justice. He began to learn and eventually called himself a Padawan. No one however ever taught him formally, he was ignored generally. All the Masters never even acknowledged him. It made him more determined to succeed.

He began to move as Captain Tohmahawk, replacing a dead Major. He built up a new identity, one he kept separate from the Jedi. He came to the notice of the New Republic commanders and began to go up the ranks on his own ability and leadership. The seeds that was to become the Special Forces was born.

He wandered again, looking for more enlightenment and he came across the Sith. Dark Jedi like he was, He decided to contend with them. Words first, then actions. Fighting. He was a very well trained fighter, but that was with the Dark Side – now, he had to learn all over again how to use the Force the Jedi way. He took on their best and won, due to his unconventional methods. People ducked when his hand grasped a piece of iron or jumped if it was cloth. He learned how to make sound a weapon, to the point the Masters asked him to restrain after a Sith died of shattered eardrums and brain turned to jelly. He did, but kept fighting. He took on a Jedi Master that had turned to the Dark Side and won. His skill and daring won him a promotion to Jedi Knight. His commitment to the Light won him promotion to Jedi Master. His methods of warfare gained him the title of Warlord. He was honoured and feted, the Jedi called on him and voted him to the Council. He rose to the point where he lead the Council itself, without dispute.

The Jedi called him by a name that was to be associated with greatness. But none knew his real name. The Sith cowered at the name he had in the Jedi, but they likewise knew nothing of the real one.

It lasted for some time, but it all crashed when, curious of what became of Callista, he went to search. He was caught and barely escaped. In the process, he discovered the smaller of the two clones and frightenly that clone was now active and had his memories. He confined it and taught it. After a time and flash memory imprint, the clone could replace Tohmahawk in the Jedi and after one of his friends was murdered and the Jedi showed they didn’t care, he realised that the Jedi were losing something, allowed the clone to take his place. He became full time soldier and as he rose in rank, he found it was one of the most attractive lives he could think of. He still studied as a Jedi, but there was no real commitment. The Jedi atrophied, the Dark Side grew. He didn’t care. He was beginning to hate the Jedi. They were beginning to corrupt as was the Sith. The Force was going out of Balance. Sith loved and Jedi hated. He began to hunt corrupt Force users. He claimed 5 Sith and two Jedi as Tohmahawk, earning the soldier great respect and his own command. He began to build and form that command into something different, something that would keep rogue Force users in line and kill the if they did not. A truly elite unit began to grow and he got his General’s star

And just when he thought his life was once again straight, Callista bought an army to Coruscant. Tohmahawk, this time as his Jedi name was shot in the back and suffered huge injuires. His clone replaced him permanently. He was fixed quickly, enough to be back on his feet and defeating the Great Darth Milenko within a week, but it would be a long time before he was free of pain.

For the second time, he came across Jyanis. This time, they worked together to spirit away the body of Milenko. The two Generals, despite being on opposite side, he being a Sith and he being New Republic General, found at first a grudging respect, then a cautious friendship. Scorpion was entrenched in his anger, found the caustic NR General the perfect foil, while he found Jyanis to be the first Force user he could truly and completely respect. Scorpion allowed Tohmahawk to stay onboard his SSD, eventually they found a suspected Callista hideout on Hoth. In one of the more insane things, Tohmahawk went out alone and infiltrated the base, dropping the defences for Scorpion’s ground attack. In the fight inside the base, the two beings fought side by side, almost getting Callista, but wiping out her whole setup, plus defeating several Vog’on.

He was tempted, but he never told Scorpion his real name.

The RSO rose. Tohmahawk, before having to escape Scorpion’s SSD, got a look at the new Dark Jedi who called himself Venom – and saw the huge being was no other than the second monstrosity Callista had brewed all those years ago. He knew the situation was getting desperate for himself, now with two clones about of himself, he would need true caution. He got back to the NR, where by executive order, the NRSF was born. On a planet that the Sith Empire once had ruled before it was surrendered, a new shipyard was built and a new project was started – a project to build a new super ship, to be the flag of the New Republic and the fist of the NRSF gauntlet. Here, he was rebuilding his life again when he began to hear rumours of something wrong with the Jedi Clone. He heard about periods of strangeness, a burst of temper. He began to pay attention and then begin to watch carefully from afar. With the resources he had, he began to backtrack the life of the clone when he hadn’t been under observation. Some unsettling facts came clear and one he had to go find out for himself. After a week of investigation he was shaken to find out the truth. The clone had a sexual encounter with a Sith, a woman he knew as a cunning bitch, the Lady Mara Jade. Unsure what this meant, he watched even more intently. Months passed without result until the day Jade went to the Jedi.

Instead of rejoicing that the Sith Empire’s leader had crossed sides, he worried even more. Something was badly wrong. The observation of the Jedi clone redoubled. He began to set up a new identity, just in case. A Bounty Hunter. Did a few jobs to make his mark. To his complete surprise, the genetically engineered clone, which called himself Venom, contacted the Bounty Hunter, offering a huge reward for the execution of Elieen Cross, Darth Turbogeek, Captain Tohmahawk and Lord Fire Blade. Bemused at a job ordering the execution of an alter ego, he began to get to work to find this Cross and Fire Blade. He arranged Tohmahawk’s death in a shuttle ‘accident’, but to keep contact with the NRSF, used a corporal’s id he sliced. Vatenen. The amount of identities was becoming bewildering.

Even he sometimes didn’t remember his own real name.

Jade and the Jedi Clone had a Padawan / master relationship only, so he got to work elsewhere, thence he was on Coruscant working out how to execute Lord Fire Blade when he heard the news of Mara Jade’s capture, torture, return and then final battle. He heard what the Jedi clone had done, knew what it meant. Finally, it was time to act.

He firstly found Fire Blade. Using the Bounty Hunter alias, he faced down the Imperial Guard, armed with a new, experimental slug thrower, something the tech’s called a Rail Gun. He drew and pointed the weapon at the Guard, who laughed and prepared to defend himself in the usual Force user manner. No one with a gun could beat a trained user in the Jedi arts who was armed with a sabre. That bit of folklore died as the first shot blasted into Fire Blade’s breastplate. Four more hollow point projectiles finished the Guard off in spectacular fashion. Hunter was almost stunned. The rail Guns had proven themselves and from then on he would never be armed without them. It would have been all so simple if he had just walked away from the steaming remains, but he had another part of his job from Venom to do. Get the mechanise Fire Blade had. He had done so… to find to his dismay it was the daughter of Lady Mara Jade and most likely his Jedi clone.

And he felt responsible for her now. It might not be his child, but in a round about way, he was responsible for her life. He had never been responsible for anyone other than his wife and look at how that ended up. Never imagined it. But even so, he had more to do. The Jedi Clone had to die.

The Jedi’s base on Dagobah was attacked and destroyed, the clone fled. Hunter followed. Followed to Yavin IV, taking the little girl with him. Followed the Jedi clone to one of the temples, waited and then watched as two Sith were attacked and the Jedi unexpectedly used a sword. Hunter saw the sword flash and weave, the Sith vanquished. As the Jedi clone stood triumphant, Hunter stood up in the tree he had been crouching in, aimed with the Rail Gun, then shot the Jedi down. The clone didn’t know what hit him. Hunter walked over to where the crumpled clone lay, kicked him over and saw it was still living.

He took the clone to deserted planet. Tied him to a chair and then began to question the half dead Jedi. When the Jedi had no more to tell, Hunter was in thought.

“Look after the girl” gasped the clone

“What if I don’t. Your in no position to make demands, your nothing more than a clone”

The Jedi gaped. He didn’t know. “I… what?”

“Your just a clone, your nothing. You should never of lived. All those memories in your head, they are mine up to 2 years ago. You never existed”

“But…. That cant be true!”

“It is. Your face looks different to mine, but we share the same DNA. Get over it”

“Who… are you? Who am I?”

“I… am Tohmahawk. You are nothing”

Some of the clone insanity clouded the mind of this Jedi. “Well, you know what you have to do then”

“Yes.. yes I do. It’s over for you”

The Jedi, in a huge effort came at Hunter, still attached to the chair and intent to kill. Hunter calmly aimed the rail gun in his hand and blew the clone’s head off. The hut he destroyed with a gas cylinder and a well aimed shot. In the ensuing fire, the body was cremated, erasing one error. What in the Force had possessed him to think it would ever work? Right then and there, he renounced being Jedi, deciding it had caused enough trouble. He renounced the name the Jedi knew him as.

And he decided no one would know his real name

Months passed. In the beginning, he had taken a sick pleasure in taunting the Jedi. Some tried to take revenge for the murder of Darth Turbogeek. He just laughed and let the Rail Guns answer. He even took residence in the Bar and Grill, making the place his own virtually. He went through this time insulting and shooting anyone. Jade was hidden away. He also masqueraded as Skip Vatenen, saw his beloved NRSF was going to pieces. He kept searching for this Elieen Cross and eventually found her. And was stunned when she turned out to be more, far more than just a clerk. She was the real Lord Fire Blade. Hunter had shot an impostor. They fought. He actually lost and she escaped.

Venom, the other clone, the huge human, found Jade and tried to grab her. Hunter, with help of his NRSF comrades stopped the Vog’on that Venom had bought along. Elieen Cross had reappeared and defeated Venom in a one on one duel. Hunter and Cross, with Jina in tow, escaped. When they parted ways, Hunter nearly told her his real name. But something held it back.

Jina Jade and Hunter wandered for a while… until they had come across General Scorpion once again. This time the two fought …

The hold the Dark Side on Jyanis broke. In a blink, he turned on The Sith Empire, stealing billions of credits and taking a good portion of the fleet with him. In the journey back to Yavin IV, the two men resumed their friendship, talked about their lives. And Hunter told Jyanis his real name.

“Your @#%$ kidding me” Scorpion had said.

“Nope”

“When the Jedi and the Republic finally catch you James, it will either be a medal or a shooting. Either way, it will be one hell of a show. So, what are you going to do now?”

He had become Tohmahawk again. With the help of Scorpion, the NRSF grew into a potent fighting force…. He still hated the Jedi….. but he had kept the sword and sabre of Darth Turbogeek.

Because the sword was dangerous.

Because the sabre had always been really his. It belonged to his real name and he could never throw it away, it had partially been a gift from his wife. He could never bring himself to dispose of something given to him in love. He could never go traitor to the friendship with Scorpion. He could never revoke the protection he gave Jina Jade.

And that was exactly what he was doing. He wanted to die and to end all, to turn his back on the only things he really cared about, only because he was being selfish and didn’t want to take the only course of action that would save himself. And it had taken until this moment to realise it…..

<font color=red>

His mind felt like it was spinning into a void and he was standing on the edge, being spun around. The felt the power of death drag at him and try to swamp him, he fought back. But he couldn’t. The Carosel he felt he was no spun faster and faster… he tried to stop it’s spin….

No. Stopping it was impossible. He stood against the whirling and to the howling darkness, spoke against it.

“My name is Marcus Q’Dunn, husband to a murdered wife, friend and protector, Jedi Warlord, Jedi Master, General of the New Republic…. and I step off this Sick Cycle Carosel… NOW!”

He gathered himself and jumped outwards…. </font>

[Marcus QDunn]

Sound came back. Vision came back. He could hear the techs say he was dead. The Governor looked satisfied. Jax looked furious. His heart kicked as he used the Force to circumvent the effects of the execution injection. He closed his eyes, breathed in, relaxed his mind and welcomed back The Force. It flooded his body, wiping out the tiredness, the pains and deadening the pain of his damaged hands. He breathed out, he felt a wash of peace roll through his body.

No one had noticed. The Governor was still sprouting some @#%$ about enemies of the state and attention was away from him. His voice came out low and powerful, shocking the gathered people into stillness. “People of Arcan IV. I am a Jedi Master and you Governor is about to gas the Alien quarter. Run”

The stunned men in the room realised the holocam was still active. His message had been broadcast. With an utterly evil looking grin, Q’Dunn tested the straps holding him down, then with almost contempt tensed and broke them all. A huge soldier sprang at him, easily twice his size across the shoulders. Q’Dunn snapped a hand out, locking it around the man’s throat. There was a very audible crunching snap as the Jedi Master’s fingers closed, The soldier dropped lifeless to the floor. The gathered men all stared in horror, except for Jax, who was eyeing the now revealed Jedi Master off.

Q’Dunn gave them all a cheeky wave, then absolutely exploded into wave of attack.

[Pierce Tondry]

The guards charged the Jedi Master, thinking they could do some good.

They were wrong. They had no chance.

The second guard to reach him died of a double kick that shattered his ribs and broke his neck. His replacement recieved a chop on the neck that caused him to crumple to the floor. The Jedi Master's next attack was an invisible shove that sent another pair of guards into the wall. They left imprints in the metal, then simultaneously fell over forward.

Even in the unlikely event that those men had survived, they were probably now crippled- cursed with a shattered spine.

Two more guards had pulled blasters on the Jedi Master, but had gotten no farther than that stage of attack. The weapons had left their hands in mid-draw, arcing with a sickening grace over to the Jedi's hands. He caught them, his fingers on the triggers, with the deadly nozzles aimed at the startled and terrified men who were just doing their duty a moment ago-

"Enough!"

The anger in Pierce's voice surprised even himself and he found two blasters in his hands. He drew a calming breath without taking his eyes off of this vengeful god, who had stopped in mid-attack. He was looking at Pierce with a mixture of surprise and expectancy and- something else.

"Guards. Leave," Pierce ordered. His eyes still did not leave the face of the Jedi Master.

They hesitated.

"LEAVE!" The blasters in Pierce's hands turned themselves on the guards.

They ran.

Inside him, Pierce fought to keep a bubbling surge of adrenaline from taking over. He had a permanent sabacc face on his worst day. He was the dead man walking. The heartless crippler. The Cold Cigna.

And yet he could not stomach what the Jedi Master had just done.

Everyone was gone now. There was no one else in the room- Jeger and Yevyss had fled at the first sign of trouble. No one was backing him up, no allies, no other enemies.

Just Pierce Alexander Tondry and a Jedi Master.

His tactical sense kicked in with an idea- delay. Stall, so news could get out. Stall, so people could get to safety. Stall, stall, stall.

Pierce holstered his blasters and took up a defensive fighting stance. "I can't let you leave here," he said aloud, as if the words were not conscious thought until they hit the open air and made themselves into sounds his ears could hear. "Too many people will die- too many good and loyal soldiers will die- too many of my comrades will die- if you do. Their lives are in my hands and I WILL NOT let them down."

The fake ID was a liability at this point. Pierce pulled the facemask off, and the vocal patch. "My name is Pierce Alexander Tondry, and I will stop you, Marcus Q'Dunn."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya skidded to halt, holding up a hand to stop Turb before he plowed into her back. They stood silent, panting quietly, their breath rising in clouds of white mist. She turned to him, and shoved him into a niche in the wall next to them, pressing herself in next to him. There was hardly any room, so she had to sort of wrap herself around him to fit in the shadows cast by the street lamp.

"Wha-?"

She poked him into silence. Something bad. Her third eye flared, and she saw two men battling in a room, neither giving quarter to the other. She squeezed her eyes shut. What the frell does that have to do with us!? If only she saw things that were actually useful.

A commotion began across the street from them. A female voice screamed, and then a door slammed open. Arya risked a look at her chrono. 02:27. Wasn't there a -

"Filt'yar! The curfew!" The female was wailing loudly.

A male voice, gruff and angry boomed in the empty streets. "Didn't you hear on the vid!? They're going to gas the alien quarter! This is the alien quarter!" There was more sobbing, and then beings began pouring into the streets, lights flicked on and windows and doors were opened wide.

Turb and Arya stared in amazement at the influx of sentients into the deserted streets. A holovid was on, blaring loudly as confused newcasters were trying to deal with what appeared to have been a live report from some government compound. A Twi'lek female was huddling near their hiding spot, three children hangning on her lekku and hands.

"What can we do?" "It's a hoax!" "We're going to be killed!"

Arya looked up into Turb's eyes. He looked worried. "Are we going to die too?"

Number One. "Not if I can help it." Arya pushed off from him and they joined the throng of frightened beings in the streets. "Keep your hood over your face." He did. No troopers came in to enforce the curfew, which only proved to Arya that the threat was serious. "C'mon!" She broke out into a run, pushing and shoving her way through the crowd. Turbogeek followed in her wake as the confused beings separated before them.

"Where are they going?" Arya recognized Filt'yar's voice from before.

Arya felt a pang in her heart, remembering the tearful eyes of the Twi'lek mother. She called over her shoulder, "RUN!"

There was a split second of indecision. And then the crowd scattered, no one even pausing to grab shoes.

[Marcus QDunn]

The guards came at him in one wave. The second one to come at him died as fast as the first, neck and ribs shattered with a ferocious double kick. An open blade strike nearly decapitated the next. He used the Force to smash two more into the metal walls, actually buckling them with the strength of the impacts. Two more dead. Two other guards showed some more sense and simply tried to shoot he Jedi Master, but that ended as he summoned their weapons by the Force into his own hands…

“ENOUGH!”

It had only taken a few seconds and five men were dead and it was nearly 7, before Jax yelled a halt. The room froze, even Q’Dunn as he found himself unexpectantly disarmed as well. In fact, looking at Jax, those were the blasters he could have sworn he had just a mere second ago. He looked at Jax, surprised but… He looked again, this time with the Force, probing the mind of the General swiftly, feeling for his sense and seeing his thoughts. Q’Dunn let his eyes dwell on what he knew now was the man in disguise, his stare boring in on the other.

“Guards. Leave”

They seemed to protest, until the General turned the blasters on them. They ran. Leaving the room clear except for the two of them.

“I can't let you leave here," said Jax "Too many people will die- too many good and loyal soldiers will die- too many of my comrades will die- if you do. Their lives are in my hands and I WILL NOT let them down."

Q’Dunn watched as the other removed his mask. "My name is Pierce Alexander Tondry, and I will stop you, Marcus Q'Dunn.". If it wasn’t for the fact Tondry had clearly used the Force, Q’Dunn would have simply laughed right then and proceeded to ram Tondry’s head up his own arse. Instead, The Jedi Master stared down Tondry thinking this through. Tondry, last known as an Imperial. But certainly not Force capable and the NRSF intelligence on all known Force users was the best in the Galaxy. How could they have missed this one? He paused for a few seconds staring this Tondry down.

He wants to protect his own men? What about the innocents that Governor wants to gas? Does he want to protect them too?

Some Jedi would wait to be attacked. Most Jedi did things out of defence. Not Q’Dunn, he was a rare breed who believed attack was the best defence and only those willing to surrender the advantage waited for the enemy to strike. He leapt at Tondry, crash tackling him into the door. Already unlocked, it sprang open, spilling both men into the corridor. Q’Dunn got up first, fully intent on getting his hands in this Governor. He was grabbed on the arm, the Jedi swung around in response, punching Tondry fair square in the jaw. He stepped forward, fingers extended in a claw, aiming to tear this Imperial’s throat out.

[Lord Fire Blade]

It was some time after I had issued the challenge. The squad and I were walking the streets, they walking along the walls while I stood in clear view in the middle of the deserted streets. So far nothing… but I knew my challenge had been heard. And I knew the answer to the challenge was close.

I stepped around a corner, the rain coming down harder now to see one lone man, standing in the middle of the road. Blue skin, clothes torn to pieces, with some sort of weapon on his back. In his hand was a lightsabre, which was switched on as I approached. It’s blade sizzled as rain touched it, as did mine. I surveyed the face of this Chiss and to my surprise, I realised I was wrong for whom I was expecting.

It wasn’t Thrawn. It was General Scorpion. This wasn’t right and now strange. The last I was aware, Scorpion was the fleet commander of the Rogue Sith Order. What was he doing here?

“General Scorpion. It has been some time since we last met. I was looking for a Jedi.”

“You found one @#%$” he snarled in return

I would have thought this was a joke… except I noted Scorpion’s sabre was just a single blade device, no a dual. And he didn’t have the sustained and unrelenting fury in his sense. Scorpio, a Jedi. This would take some getting used to. “You’re a Jedi, I never thought you had that weakness. What are you doing here?”

“Souvenir hunting. I hear the head of a Imperial scum is going cheap”

“Shut up, I’m not here to amuse myself in cutting you in half. What are your intentions here”

“Who wants to know?”

“I do” Ramjet stepped out from the shadows, followed by his squad. “We heard you’re a Jedi and we want to know… are you here to help us”

“No, we’re here to find out why a rather large ship theft happened. It seems someone on this shithole is responsible, so we’re coming to stomp on them”

“Stolen?” The Major was thinking fast here. “You surely not talking about the fleet the Governor convinced the New Republic to come here to help clean out the crimin….” He paused. “Oh @#%$… there not here for us?”

“No soldier, they’re not. As of right now, a very large and very pissed off Republic fleet is coming to either get them back or blow them to atoms. And they will be stomping on this shithole for trying something like this”

“But.. but…. “ The Major paused again. “We’re screwed. The Governor and his new commanders have bought our deaths, haven’t they Jedi?”

“Yes, they have. Are you telling me you didn’t know what was going on?”

“Umm, yes. We’re a peaceful planet, we only want the criminals on this planet gotten rid of. We elected Yveyss to do that”

“Looks like we elected a madman Major. Oh man, we are soooo @#%$” groaned Hudson. “And here I was hoping..”

“SHUTUP HUDSON!!” chorused the squad

I allowed my sabre to switch off. “Things would go much better for you Ramjet if you surrendered now to the General here”

The clatter of weapons thrown down by the troops was almost deafening.

[DarthHERA]

Stuffing the few important items she'd brought with her into the small pack, and the weapons she always had with her, namely a blaster and her whip which she coiled up and placed at the mouth of the pack. The other things..clothes mainly, she left in a bigger carry bag in the room, determining them to be too cumbersom for her to take with her. She paused to take a quick glance out the large glass door that led off to the balcony. A steady rain had begun to fall. That would make negotiating the outer surface that much more of a chore, and she sighed resignedly. how typical.

She was dressed in black pants and a turtle-neck sweater, both made of a soft yet durable material that fit her body like a glove. the sweater was tucked snugly into the waiste of her pants, the legs of her pants snugly into her heavy black boots - her blonde hair she had fastened in one braide down her back and tucked into the collar of her sweater, making her as streamlined as was physically possible. She crossed back to her things and took her black cloak. Lifting her dagger from inside her boot-sheath, she cut quickly, efficiently, the hood from the garment, which she then donned in order to cover the rest of her hair, tucking it too into her collar. It wasnt the best, but it would have to do - she had not come prepared to be skulking around the city in such a manner.

She then strapped on a leather holster around her right forearm and slipped her lightsaber inside, having it nestle comfortably on the inside of her arm. She looked one last time at the holovid screen - it had been flashing a newsfeed routinely for the last 20 minutes of the Curfew and not much more details than what the Innkeeper had advised her earlier. Moving her hand over the energy dome consol to shut it-together with all other of the rooms lighting- off, she grabbed her pack,zipping it almost completely closed, and sliding her arms through it and onto her back, crept soundlessly onto the balcony ledge.

There were eight flights above her, and who knows how many below her. It didnt matter. Her best bet was up, as the troopers enforcing the curfew would be wandering the streets - not many would be watching the roof tops. Balancing herself along the ledge, being mindful to remain in the shadows, Hera, using force strength, bent at the knees and then propelled herself up with ease to leap to the next level. She did this repeatedly each time careful to remain in the darkness and away from the window sides of the balconies, scaling the eight floors to the roof in only moments.

She landed lightly onto the roof, only to land for all her care, into a deep puddle that had formed from the rain in a uneven part of the permacrete. Her annoyance didnt get a chance to get even the glimmer of voice as her mind was arrested by a disturbance that she sensed in the force. Lound and clear she hear the challenge. Lord Fire Blade..?..who is Lord Fire Blade?....just, what the heck is going on in this hole of a city?

As if in answer blaster fire bounced about below her in the alley behind the building the sounds of it reaching up to her as the buildings being in close proximity acted like a giant sound funel and, instincively, Hera clambered to the edge of the rooftop and watched the display below. In between blaster flashes and targeting light scopes of the troopers, saw two figures, one was down from what looked like a direct hit to the leg - and the other darting off, after a breif hesitation, into the night. The man reached a hand after his companion the piteous gesture of one left behind and called to his partner. Hera found it somewhat amusing the patheticness of it and laughed quietly to herself. That was until all hell broke loose. She was astounded at the blood bath that ensued. She couldnt see it in much detail of course from where she was, but between the flashes of blaster fire and the sreams of what were undoubtedly from full-grown, fully-trained men - not to mention the unbridled rage and aggression that eminated from the injured man through force sense. The same man she only seconds before had ridiculed in her mind. Not for the last time she asked herself.. just what the hell IS going on here?

*********

As quickly as it had started, it was over. The silence from the street was complete. Only the rain continued unswayed. The woman, his companion, had returned and aided the injured man and they were on the move again. Hera still amazed at what had just transpired had made her decision. She was gonna find out more about this "stranger" and she had better move fast as they were already lost from her sight. Getting to her feet again, she ran to the east side of the Hotel roof. She made the jump across to the next rooftop with no trouble. The buildings so close to each other, any one of some athletic degree could manage it. She continued in this manner until the two turned off to the right and could not easily be followed using her rooftop promenade.

Pulling the whip from her pack, Hera lashed one end around one hand, the other end she flipped over a stong support cable running from the side of the office building she was on to a metal post standing on the street below. Grabbing hold of the free end of the whip with her other hand, she stepped off the edge of the building. The whip acting as a type of rolling pulley, she slid like an apparition through the night to the ground below.

*********************

The two were easy enough to follow...the man never seemed to shutup. How the woman stood it, Hera never knew..he was almost as bad as a droid for chatter. "SHUTUP!"..ah, finally the woman had had enough of him Hera smirked.They were heading in the general direction of the Spaceport - seems they had they same idea of getting out of this town as she did. And then he slammed into her. Not just him, but his scrawny friend as well. Hera grabbed the man by reflex around the throat, lifting him slightly off his feet. His eyes were wide, panicky. He gurgled out, a frightened "we gotta run." Pretty soon people were flinging open their doors and running out into the street. They began to pour out of their homes in a wave of confusion and fear. Hera heard the words ...gassing us!.. repeatedly and looked about her as the inhabitants of this quarter fled from their homes like rats from a sinking ship. The man and woman she had been following were no where to be seen. She threw the Arcan native aside, careening him thoughtlessly into a side fence, his companion skipping about him in an effort to rouse him to resume running.

Hera gave up on trying to find the strange pair from the Hotel and made her way as fast as she could toward the Port and the Paylode.

She had no doubt trying to make a clear and easy escape was almost definitely out of the question. The powers that be were going to gas the general area and its inhabitants. With all the NR activity and now this gas threat, there was definitely some type of coup or invasion in effect..not to mention adding that Sith challenge into the mix of things.. the trouble was only just beginning.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

They walked side by side, not sure what to do or what to say. The soldiers were behind them, scattered over the streets, now rearmed. Each could sense what the other was thinking right about now: What's next?

That question was partially answered when one of the troops spoke up, pointing through a tapcafe window at a holoviewscreen inside, "It's Governor Yveyss! And some guy strapped to a chair."

Scorpion and Fire Blade looked over in unison, sprinting over in front of the rest of the troops, in time to see the end of the speech. Jyanis frowned, "It's Tohmahawk!"

As the words flew past his lips he stared in shock. His only true friend in the galaxy was obviously injected from behind with a poison, and he watched him die. Scorpion turned away quickly and shifted his gaze to the ground. Tohmahawk had been the only one he really held respect for, and he had also been responsible for curing his insanity, most likely saving his life in the long run. He couldn't believe it.

Lord Fire Blade was still watching the screen, as were most of the troops. Then they started mumbling something in shock and confusion. Scorpion turned back and looked at the screen. Tohmahawk was alive! Tohmahawk was alive? No humanoid could survive a lethal injection, and he assumed that they had used an extra strong one for Tohmahawk. There were stories that some Jedi could reverse a poison and its effect, even subdue a stun blast. The infamous Luke Skywalker had been said to have stopped living and come back by pure will and strength alone.

Both Scorpion's real and robotic eyes were fixed to the viewscreen and watched the chaos unfold. No emotions came to mind. He had been overcome with gladness as his friend was alive again, but too much remained unanswered, and the feeling subsided as he waited for something. An eerie sensation filled him and his expressionless face turned to resent and worry. The troops started yelling as chaos unfolded.

"They're going to gas the alien quarter!"

[Pierce Tondry]

For the first time since he'd broken loose, Q'Dunn's movements were too slow.

Pierce wrapped his hands around Marcus' right wrist and pulled. The forward motion brought Q'Dunn's abdomen directly into Pierce's thrusting shoulder.

Continuing to use his opponent's momentum against him, Pierce caught Marcus across his shoulders, lifting him into the air and then slamming him back into the doorframe. He could feel Marcus struggling against his hold, surprise at being caught in an attack having faded back to combat reality.

But Pierce was in a combat reality all his own. The punch Marcus had hit him with seemed to have had no effect at all, even if it had almost knocked him silly at the time. Adrenaline was surging through his system, and Pierce was bursting with energy.

One of Q'Dunn's fists was beating on his back, and for a moment it seemed as if Pierce was invincible, but in between one punch and the next the strength of the blow seemed to triple. Pierce staggered, then slammed Marcus against the wall again.

Down the hallway, there was a flight of stairs. Pierce broke into a sprint, still carrying Marcus on his shoulders.

The stairway had a guardrail that led to a steep drop, before leading on to a direct route up or down. Pierce knew he was about four floors up from the bottom sub-level, but still four floors down from ground level. That kind of drop would kill almost anybody.

Which begged the question: did Pierce want to kill Marcus, or just neutralize him?

Pierce's perspective changed again. This time, his consciousness was outside his head. Like Toprawa all over again. Pierce was still running, aimed directly at the guardrail, ready to swing Marcus over it and follow the ultimate objective of all Special Warriors- win at all cost.

Four steps from the guardrail, Pierce swung Marcus around by his feet and slammed him headfirst into the wall.

[Marcus QDunn]

This wasn't right. HE was the Jedi Master, not Tondry.

And yet, here he was trying break out of the grip of a person, whom he had no idea could use the Force. Tondry was also much, much stronger than he looked.

Then again, two could play that game. He punched, using his augmented strength, this time making the Imperial stagger. Q'Dunn was about to follw up with one even harder, when he was slammed agains the wall again. Lesser men would be crumpled. Q'Dunn sucked a breath in, stilled the painwaves with the Force....

Hang on, now what? He was being carried along at a sprint. His mind read a drop off ahead - not too hard for a Jedi to deal with.... The bugger came a few steps short and tried to slam Q'Dunn headfirst into a wall again by his feet. He snapped out his hands in response, palms touched the walls, his arms sagged, taking up and softening the impact. His head touched the wall, then he pushed off, hard and violently. His feet ripped out of Tondry's grasp, he spun in mid air and flanded on his feet in a crouch. Normally, when someone proved to be an unexpectantly good opponent, he would take his time, asses the being and then finish them off when he spotted a weakness. Time however would simply not allow it. He would have to make this up as he went.

The ledge came back to his mind....

Tondry was standing his ground and not coming closer. Q'Dunn went into a open reverse defensive stance, plam outward.

"Come here"

The verbal order almost seemed to take substance physically. The Imperial found himself steppling forward, before realising what had happened and stopping.

"I SAID COME HERE!"

This time he picked Tondry up by the Force, the Imperial's neck caught in the Jedi's outstretched hand. Immediatly, Q'Dunn ran for the ledge, stepped up over the banister and jumped straight off, still with Tondry in tow. One thing Jedi were taught was how to fall from seemingly suicidal hieghts without hurt.

Two two men dropped down........

WHAM!


Tondry hit the ground first with Q'Dunn acting like a piledriver right on top of him. The floor buckled and broke, sendign them spilling further down, to crash onto a permacrete floor.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya threw her tired body into a sprint, leaving Turbogeek to follow her as best he could. Beings and aliens of every shape, color and size were running in the streets, some hanging out of windows and watching in confusion. Only a few houses were darkened still, most of the streets were now lit up from artificial lights. She wasted a moment, looking over her shoulder. Turb was still behind her, and his limp was not getting worse. That's a good thing.

Her skin was starting to itch fiercely under the synflesh, but everything was sent out of her mind as she heard the high pitched whine of an incoming missile. Arya didn't dare pause in her headlong flight, leaping over a fallen Chandrilan, and pushing a female Devorian out of her way.

Another high pitched noise, and another were heard, joining together in a horrific symphony of terror. Surface to surface. They had about three minutes before the first one would touch down. Maybe even less time.

As they ran, Arya felt a stab of pity for everyone who would die. But she had to save herself. If she could have gotten to the spaceport in time, she would have been able to neutralize the gas bearing missiles with her ship. However, even if they could run clear out of the quarter in three minutes, there was still a high likelihood that they would still be gassed. Someone insane enough to try and kill an entire section of a city might not have bothered to check the placements exactly. And if they hadn't... well, either way, it was down to a footrace with death.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce's legs wrapped themselves around Q'Dunn's waist and he chopped at the armpit of the arm holding him. With a strong jerk, Pierce was free of the weakened grip and falling away by himself.

His hands extended, meeting the permacrete floor first. They pushed off it at an angle, not reversing the fall but instead allowing Pierce to arch his back and come to his feet using the momentum of the fall.

He took a few uncoordinated steps to stop his forward motion, waving a bloody combat knife in the air.

Marcus stared at the knife, then looked down at his own body. Blood streamed from several areas on his clothes from three stab wounds, two in the chest and one near the kidney area. There was also a gash along one of his legs, an almost-stab that had come about the time Pierce had broken through the floor.

The Jedi lifted his arm and pointed at Pierce, only to note that blood was beginning to soak through his clothes there, too. It hadn't been a chop that had hit his armpit- it had been another stab with the knife.

It was fortunate that his combat reflexes were still in operation, because that head-first impact through the floor had jarred his brain. With luck, there was no concussion and he could keep going. Pierce gave his head a quick shake and the world settled down a little bit.

"You barstard!" Q'Dunn roared. "My good clothes!"

"They're prisoner's clothes, frag you very much," Pierce retorted.

"I don't care if they were Mr. Prisoner's clothes before- they're mine now!"

The verbal sparring was an obvious destraction, probably while Q'Dunn turned some kind of healing power on himself to stop the bleeding. Normally, Pierce would have pressed the attack at this point, but the break gave him time to recover as well.

"Then you oughta take better care of them, you mudsucking, Hutt-kissing, bantha fodder-brained numb nuts."

"Then you must be-" Q'Dunn's retort was interrupted by the crackle of a commlink from Pierce.

"Targeter, this is Hemline, come in."

Hemline was the field name for Weimar, a skirt-chaser who could guess the length on the hemline of any woman's skirt. Pierce tapped his shirt. "Targeter."

"We've got STS gas canisters in the air."

Frag. "Contingency plan Gasout."

"Right."

Pierce smirked at Q'Dunn's face, which was twisted in a mix of puzzlement and horror. "There goes the alien quarter."

######

"We've got a roger," Hemline turned to Magic Fingers and spoke to him through a rebreather mask. Tau Team was prepared in case Gasout went wrong. "You ready, bud?"

"Already hacking the guidance systems."

"Right on," Hemline gave his partner-in-crime a slap on the back. Magic Fingers pitched forward, then glared at his partner.

"Not while I'm working. Wrong key plus enter equals us screwed."

Hemline was paying no attention. "Division Delta," he ordered through his commlink. "Shoot and loot, then retreat."

######

"Beautiful, isn't it Olar?" Desmond Yevyss smiled at the Surface-to-Surface launchers that sat in a parade-perfect row just outside the building. "Such awesome destructive force ready to burst forth at my command."

"It is indeed, sir," Olar stated from beside him. "And I have a confirmation from Tactical- three warheads are in the air heading to the target destination."

Yevyss gazed out the transparisteel window, his eyes searching for the beautiful missiles that would turn all the aliens in the city from healthy beings into wretching, putrid pus bags. He couldn't find them, but he was comforted to know they were there.

"Is Jeger in command yet?" he asked over his shoulder.

"Yes, and all remaining Republic personnel have been locked down in ship brigs."

Excellent. Everything was under control.

The sound of blaster fire from the missile launcher emplacements drew Desmond's attention. "What's going on down there?"

He was answered when the launcher closest to him exploded in flames. A hazy blue gas seemed to leak from the firing tube only to be ignited and turned into a blazing red cloud.

Yevyss had fallen to the floor in surprise. More booms echoed from outside. He scrambled to his feet.

Outside, all the launchers obscured by a hazy red cloud that covered the area.

Instinctively, Desmond knew what had happened. The launchers, just like his plans to kill the festering alien scum, were in ruins.

"Get out there!" he whirled on Olar. "Get out there, find whoever did this, and apprehend them!"

Olar saluted and swiftly left the room.

Desmond continued to stare out the window as though his will could cause the red fog around the area to dissipate.

Which it did, strangely enough. Yevyss watched in an odd sort of glee as the haze began to blow clear-

And then a transport landed in front of the window, obscuring his view of the area.

######

Hemline looked up at the red haze overhead that had previously been three gas-carrying missiles. "Tango down," he announced, pulling his rebreather mask off.

"Took you three shots," Magic Fingers stated, closing his slicekit and disconnecting it from the terminal he was at. "Pierce would have nailed it in one."

"It was your fault they were off by six meters," Hemline shrugged. "Besides, that's why he's Targeter."

"And why you're a second-rate dip dunk, sir." It was obvious from the way Magic Fingers had said it that sir was being spelled c-u-r.

"Ah, mudsuck me," Hemline growled. "I got the job done."

Magic Fingers nodded and grinned. "So let's go grab a beer."

Hemline's eyes brightened. "Have I told you I love you lately?"

######

Q'Dunn's shocked face was settling into what could only be described as a dark fury. Pierce, meanwhile, was recomposing himself, becoming the picture-perfect sabacc player. The two of them commenced to stare each other down, tension building between them.

"You'll pay for that!" Q'Dunn shouted abruptly.

Fists grasped at Pierce's throat. He could feel them threatening to smother him into unconsciousness. It was a trick the Jedi had adapted from the Sith to bring down enemies without damaging them, usually so they could be interrogated and tried later.

From the look in Marcus' eyes, it was obvious that there might not be a later if he were to succeed.

Pierce, on the other hand, had an underwater diving limit of three minutes without a free source of oxygen. He consciously held his breath, and his mind continued to function.

He had to break the Jedi's concentration.

Pierce reached to his left with his free hand and tore a large durasteel rod off the guardrail with strength born of desperation. He hurled the weapon at Q'Dunn and it spun through the air.

The Jedi lifted a hand and the rod stopped a foot in front of him.

Then it exploded into a brilliant flash of light.

Pierce felt the invisible choke drop and he inhaled, holstering his blaster. The shooting of the rod gave him precious seconds in which to act. He charged the blinded Q'Dunn with the knife in his hand, ramming into him. Q'Dunn slammed into the wall behind him, then staggered forward. Pierce's arm snaked behind his enemy for a perfect killshot to the kidneys.

Then he dropped down and hamstrung Q'Dunn's right leg.

[Marcus QDunn]

What was it with people fighting him? As he felt the pain flare in his leg, he knew what had happened, knew he’d been hamstrung – again. As the pain threatened to break his concentration, he twisted around, his fingers forming a pincer. His hand moved like a flash aiming at Tondry’s groin, but moving ever so slightly to grab the nerve points in the top of the inner thigh. His fingers tensed, finger nails pressed in. The Jedi heard Tondry’s breath suck in, the Imperial’s eyes going wide. Q’Dunn’s hand squeezed even harder, the thumb digging into the sensitive nerve endings, grinding in. The Jedi knew precisely what this was doing to Tondry’s nervous system and just how painful it was. Fingers twisted, twisting the tendon, the Imperial yelling involuntarily. Tondry dropped the weapons he was holding, before Q’Dunn let go of the agonising grip, drew back the hand, then smashed a palm strike into the solar plexus. The Imperial flew backwards some meters, as Q’Dunn’s hand reached down, to feel the damage to his leg. Not as bad as what Lounge Lizard once did, but still…..

He touched to Force to stop the bleeding, breathing in heavily. He was beginning to really wonder where the Force this Tondry learned how to fight like this – because quite simply he was underestimating what the Imperial was capable of. That was going to lead to death if he didn’t stop it. The Jedi ripped a piece of his shirt off to tie around the wound on his leg. He tied it hard enough the make him wince as pain flashed everywhere again. Hands, leg, few stab wounds – bacta tank time after this. And as he watched the Imperial wobble to his feet, there was going to be an after this.

“Your quite good”

“What… what the hell did you do my leg?!?” gasped Tondry.

“Ahh, finding you cant use it at all? Don’t worry, it will come right. You jut got a nerve pinch. Sort of circumvents the groin protector good fighters tend to wear. So tell me… what’s someone like you supporting a rat like this Governor?” The Jedi noticed the Imperial had drawn his second gun and was pointing it right at the Jedi’s chest. “Money? Prestige? Imagine that, a Imperial no better than a common mercenary. Or was it the women? Wanted to get some tail? Why not go to the Sith, they have lots of cheap sluts. They’ll @#%$ anything, even @#%$ like you..”

That really, really must have touched a nerve. Q’Dunn could feel the abrupt flames of fury on Tondry. So much so that Tondry open fire, strafing the area. The blaster shots all seemed to hit their target… except they seemed to deflect off. One hit the outstretched hand of the Jedi Master and broke apart in sparks. The barrage ended when Q’Dunn snatched the gun out Tondry’s hand with the Force and threw it away.

“The Force is powerful Tondry in the right hands. It can be used to stop blaster bolts, to augment combat… and to read minds” De’Ville??? His thoughts switched to her for a moment… He has feelings for her! He was still allowing the Force to begin the healing process, choosing to rest and repair instead of taking the fight physically up to this rather unexpected surprise packet. But there were other way to fight… “Ahhh, so your aware of the whore house the Sith are. You know, I saw a Jedi get De’Ville drunk, carried her to his room. I saw that with my eyes. They came out together the next morning….” Don’t push it too far….. “And she was wearing his cloak. Cheap whores all of them, I’m sorry to say. They’ll use you and toss you aside. I’ve seen it before Pierce”. Q’Dunn could read more anger and… something else. Hurt maybe. It all faded as the Imperial regained his sabaac face and focused mind.

“Are you going to talk or fight, Jedi?”

Q’Dunn was finding he was actually enjoying this. A top class opponent was a joy to a Warrior and here was one he could truly appreciate. Like a fine wine, it had to be savored. And that message Tondry sent…. Q’Dunn got the distinct feeling in the Force time was now on his side.

“Was that a challenge? Why… I do believe it was. You’ve challenged me twice now I believe. I accept” He looked on the floor, then reached down to pick up two rods of steel, much like what Tondry had tossed at him, breaking then off the rail they were attached to. He swung them in the air, feeling their weight and their balance. He spun them around, the rods making a thin whipping sound as he twirled them around his body, then snapping them out, one held low and forward, held across his body, the other high and back, pointed like a dagger. His hamstring hurt like fire, he touched the Force to quell it. He would worry about the damage he would do to it later.

Tondry pulled out two rather long and wicked looking daggers, held low and forward. The Jedi nodded his head in acknowledgement, took two steps and jumped. He landed on his good leg, attacked. The poles swept through the air, meeting the blades with sparks coming off as the metal clashed. The Jedi’s sense of time seemed to slow and draw out. It looked like a dance he was doing, each move smooth and flowing, blending each attack into the next. A turn, a sweep, a duck, twisting. The poles ringing and vibrating, almost alive, forcing the Imperial to back-pedal. Q’Dunn pressed forward, bringing both poles together and horizontal to the ground, pushing forward, the blades met the push, Q’Dunn swivelled his wrists, looping his weapons in an arc and stepped in. The tips touched together low, his hands held the steel like daggers, the tips stuck Tondry’s abdomen, were dragged upwards as if he was cutting, up between the Imperials arms, to strike under the chin. Another circular motion, the poles spun, The Jedi Master hit either side of Pierce’s lower ribs hard, to then twist away, going en-guard again, then beginning the Dance all over again.

Moving almost poetily, he stuck at the Imperial again and again and again.

[Elieen Cross]

We had been walking for a sometime, Scorpion and I, with the troops trying to figure out what to do next. We were all short on ideas except wait for the New Republic to come and make contact. It was, Scorpion assured me, only a few hours before the New Republic arrive. Maybe we would, with the Major’s help contact a few more like minded soldiers and civilians. Or just lay low. That wasn’t a bad option and it might give me some time to question the General and find out why he had gone Jedi. That was the single most amazing and improbable thing to happen to me in this day of surprises. Scorpion, Jedi? Who had managed to turn him?

“It's Governor Yveyss! And some guy strapped to a chair.” The call interrupted my musings. I went over, to see a man strapped to an execution chair, with what the troops called the Governor standing by, gabbling some rubbish. But the intent was clear. This man was about to be executed.

Jyanis frowned, "It's Tohmahawk!".

WHAT?!?!?! When the hell had he come back from the dead? Didn’t that man Force Master Hunter kill him? Well, come to think of it, Hunter had an odd resemblance to the man, who was now writhing and creaming some nonsense. I saw that the injection for death must have been made, as the man slumped. If that really was Hunter…. Where was Jina? I cursed. Now This was today’s most unexpected twist.

I was about to turn away as the man was obviously dead…. When he spoke. The voice clear – and to my complete shock, familiar.

“People of Arcan IV. I am a Jedi Master and you Governor is about to gas the Alien quarter. Run”

I watched as this man exploded into action, tearing the execution chair to pieces, then doing the same to the guards in the room. I saw a man who revealed himself as Tondry drawing guns in a flash, ordering everyone out. Tondry holstered his blasters and took up a defensive fighting stance. "I can't let you leave here," he said "Too many people will die- too many good and loyal soldiers will die- too many of my comrades will die- if you do. Their lives are in my hands and I WILL NOT let them down." He took of a mask and spoke again.


"My name is Pierce Alexander Tondry, and I will stop you, Marcus Q'Dunn."

………

The men around me were exclaiming about the gassing of the Alien quarter. I didn’t I didn’t give a damn. My helmet would filter any gas.

No. This was not possible. Tondry did NOT identify Tohmahawk as Marcus Q’Dunn. That was not possible.

“Scorpion…. SCORPION!” The Chiss was distracted, staring at the screen. He snapped his attention to me. “That man that they tried to execute. Who was it”

“That…. Is my friend”

“Is he really a Jedi?”

Something in Scorpion’s face seemed to twitch. The Chiss’ eyes was focused on the empty room that was still the focus of the holoview. “He… told me…” The alien gathered himself up and looked at me. “… everything. I didn’t believe it…. Until now”

“Who else knew?”

“His wife. But she’s dead, so he told me”

I had to thank the Force that the helmet covered my face and the vox box covered my voice. There was no way my expression would have ever stayed stoic, not at a time like this. It took me a moment to mentally recover and be able to speak again. I had seen Q’Dunn die. I had seen it as I had fallen. The last thing I had heard from his lips was my name, cried out in horror. I saw the flames, I saw one standing next to him vaporised. I never got to see what happened, but as I had recovered from the fall, in a medical centre, I learned enough. My own survival was no more than a lucky chance, landing in a rubbish cart that broke my fall enough so I was not killed outright. But as I had recovered, I found out what had taken place.

He had been nothing more than ashes. I had mourned where they told me his last resting place was. I had fought on against Callista alone, for what she did. She denied me my husband, the only man I had loved. Many nights spent alone, fighting grief. 8 years of pain and sorrow, to see that clone take his place. I cried so many times at his memory…

I knew he was gone. He had to be gone. Nothing or no one can bring back something taken by death.

For years I had hidden my face from the Galaxy, as Lord Fire Blade, feared Imperial Royal Guard, destroyer of the Jedi Temple. I hid as Elieen Cross in the most depraved and disgusting places known

How could I possibly still be Helenais Q’Dunn, wife and lover?

Someone was lying. Nothing now was making any sense. I put my mind back on track, for now I would need my wits about me. As I refocused, I noticed a huge pouring of beings, all running. Somewhat puzzled I asked what was going on.

“Didn’t you hear that Jedi? He said Yveyss was going to gas the alien quarter! And this IS the alien quarter!” yelled Ramjet. Oh @#%$, that’s right. So taken aback by the thought Marcus could really be alive, I had forgotten.

“Ramjet, it seems your Governor has had his hand tipped. Get to a command post, shoot anyone who opposes you. Find out who is with us and round them up. Begin to make this place friendly to the Republic. Understand?”

“Yes my Lord! Don’t worry, I think after this Yveyss will find he wont have lot of support. Come on men!” The squad ranoff into the crowds, leaving the Jedi, Scorpion and I still there. He was still thoughtful in view.

“General, I want to speak to this Jedi friend of yours. Can you find him?”

While I waited for an answer, I could only wonder how this day and night could possibly get any more incredible.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce felt battered, and wished fervently for an ysalamiri. Despite the fact that he felt outmatched, giving up was not an option.

Which was not to say he couldn't beat a tactical retreat.

Q'Dunn was stepping forward to begin his attack again, when Pierce abruptly stepped backwards, stomping as he went to wake his unresponsive right foot. Q'Dunn's next attack changed in mid-swing to intercept Pierce's new movement, but Pierce ducked, holstering one of his combat knives as he did so. The other knife met bar as Pierce quickly defended, then he ducked and rolled beneath one of Q'Dunn's arced swings. Pierce found himself at the top of another set of steps.

He jumped forward, covering the distance to the next landing with one leap. On the way down, he put away his second knife, freeing up both his hands.

Then, in a move that seemed completely out of the blue, Pierce hopped onto the platform's guardrail. Behind him, he could hear a bar clanging into the floor.

Meanwhile, the next floor up was not out of Pierce's reach. He jumped off the banister and caught hold of the bars in guardrail above him, using them to pull himself up. He vaulted the rail and landed on his feet, his right foot still a bit shaky.

Steadying himself, Pierce gave the wall a sharp kick. Feeling flooded back into his leg and Pierce inhaled a sharp breath. That was better.

A body flickered up the steps on the other side of the stairs and Pierce knew that Q'Dunn was coming after him. His eyes tracked his opponent's movement, attempting to catch up with the speeding Jedi.

Then, somewhere in the brain of the Intelligence agent, thought began to speed up. Q'Dunn's sprint up the steps began to slow down. He could see the Jedi hitting the steps, charging up them, pushing off with his feet and running up the stairs sideways using the wall-

Pierce's spin kick was timed and aimed precisely, hitting Marcus in the chest as he crossed the landing. The surprised Jedi's limbs pitched forward even as his body flew backward and impacted into the wall, leaving a dent.

The sight reminded Pierce of the dents that were still in the interrogation room, left by guards who had been hurled to their death by this Jedi Master.

If it was possible, Pierce went even more calm. This reckless cannon had to be stopped.

"So you want to talk character assassination?" Pierce called down to him, backing slowly up the stairs. "Let's talk."

Q'Dunn was on his feet now, matching Pierce's pace up the stairs. Regardless of Marcus' pace, Pierce's brain did not show any signs of slowing.


"A Jedi got a woman drunk and raped her," Pierce said. "Yeah, that sounds real good. Really like the whole image you Jedi project. Who was it- close friend? You sound like you were there. Maybe you were. Maybe it was you. Maybe it wasn't- doesn't matter. The implications are clear enough- you're just like the Sith you fight so often. I think you just want to off the competition."

Pierce had reached the floor above him now, with Q'Dunn still following, still holding those dangerous durasteel bars. Pierce felt his abdomen aching, which he ignored and continued his trek backwards up the stairs.

"And what are you doing, impersonating a military official, Major General Tohmahawk? Infiltrating a military structure is grounds for death due to security breach- but I suppose the military is your puppet anyway. How many men do you throw to their deaths a day? How many civilians do you kill with your reckless toys? Let me present a figure for you- that rail gun Jyanis had managed to kill two women, a child, three innocent men, and six not-so-innocent Bothan bystanders who were caught in the collapse of a building he fired on."

"Their families, like the families of the people obliterated in the turbolaser fire that finally stopped you, resent your actions."

"You fired the turbolaser, didn't you?" Q'Dunn accused.

"Wrong!" Pierce cut in. "I didn't fire it, and didn't order it. Idon't condone that action in any way at all. Its' one redeeming value is that it ended the carnage YOU caused."

Pierce had reached the ground floor landing now. He stood by the door, one hand on the handle. "And you accuse me of working for money- damn right. In case you hadn't noticed, credits are necessary for any military outfit. I've spent months at a time sometimes just making sure we have a budget to work with. My work, at least, is precise."

His hand dipped into his vest and produced a grenade. He considered tossing it directly at Marcus, but instead held on to it. "Be seeing you," he said, then stepped backward through the door. The grenade dropped from his hand and rolled to a stop as the door to the stairwell closed.

Pierce had sprinted halfway down the hallway to the main gates when the door exploded in fire and smoke behind him.

[Master Yoghurt]

<font color=cyan>The MC-200 "Defender" roared through a twisting tunnel of light and energy, the chaotic dimension known as hyperspace, toward its destination. Its crew were all busy preparing for battle. Well, most of them..</font>

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/posting_multimedia/mc-200-2.jpg>

The lower left stern kitchen

Master Yoghurt had been looking for Liam Jinn for a few hours. By chance, they both had managed to just miss each other, or something else came up that required their attention at separate parts of the ship. Tired of looking for Liam, Yog saw the opportunity for a quick snack at the local kitchen.

Mmmmmm.... what that smell is..

Yog sniffed his way to the stove. Much to his delight, there were no less than 5 casseroles of delicious Zeltron soup with pasta!

"Ah, hehehe, I do feel a bit hungry", Yog commented to himself. Everyone seemed to be gone, and all this wonderful soup was just sitting there. Surely, no one would miss a casserole or two? Yog did not waste much time pondering about it before swiftly running to find a spoon in the kitchen drawer, then hurrying to plunge the spoon into the soup. Yog closed his eyes almost in ecstacy as he was about to taste the soup..

<font color=yellow>Meow! Murrr... purrr... fisss... rrr!!!</font>

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/posting_multimedia/scary_cat.jpg>

Suddenly, a cat flew out of nowhere, attacking the Jedi Master with great ferocity. It was Tomahawks cat. Apparently, it was upset because Yog in his eagerness clumsily had misplaced his right foot, stepping right on a bowl filled to the brim with Chad 3 luxury sardines. The cat had been rudely interupted in the middle of a delicous meal. Yog on the other hand, was not to pleased about having his Jedi robes shred to pieces. Yes, it was just some old rags he was always wearing, but still. He had to look half representative, not like some gang member from the lower levels of Coruscant.

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/yog/pics/AHHHHH!!!.jpg>

"You wild animal.. you furry vermin... ahhh you stop it! Someone please help.. the beast is attacking me!"

Meooooowwwwww... ssss.. rrrrrrrrrrrrrrr!

<font color=yellow size=3>Boink!</font><font color=red size=4> OWWWWW!!!</font>

The chase abruptly ended as the ship suddenly started to deaccelerate and the ship was shaking so violently, that an empty although somewhat heavy cooking pot fell from a shelf, dropping right on Yog's head. Highly annoyed, Yog moaned, then picked up a comlink from his robes.

"Navigator, what happened.. why dropping out of lightspeed?"

"I am sorry Sir.. I know we have a tight time schedule. but the ship is stopping shortly to recalibrate navigation computers. We will leave in a minute."

"Thank the Force.. perhaps good time to throw cat out of air lock!", Yog grumbled.

A set of doors magnetically slid open, and the cat run out not giving Yog the time to consider his plan. It was Liam Jinn who entered.

"Ah, Liam.. looking for you I have.. but wait.. what that sound is?"

"We are jumping for lightspeed again", a voice said over the comlink.

A thunder could be heard as the highly modified MC-200 engines ignited spontanously. The ship shaked, like there was an earthquake about to rip the the structure apart. It was the how the cruiser vibrated as a result of the powerful tremendous energy outburst of the 32 titan sized CSD LN F-Class fusion engines shooting out a high temperature gasfilled flamable jet stream at 15,000 km/s. In the acceleration phase, the entire ship was like a tremedously huge rocket.

Unfortunately, the ship's lack of motion compensators had its side effects. A protocol droid carrying a tray of Corellian whisky, losed balance, and tipped the tray over a startled Liam Jinn..

<img src=http://www.thegjo.com/posting_multimedia/C3P0-1.jpg>

<font color=cyan size=3>Splash!</font>

"Liam! I know you like whisky, but this..", Yog chuckled

Liam did not look pleased..

[Marcus QDunn]

He had been stalking Tondry, moving closer and closer to finish the Imperial off, not really caring what he said. He snapped an accusation, heard the answer. Didn’t matter. The Force had given him a clear warning to stay where he was. The Jedi stopped as Tondry said “Be seeing you”. At that precise moment, the Force danger sense almost screamed for him to jump. Long experience had taught him not to question the danger sense, he gathered himself and leapt straight up, arcing and somersaulting over a balcony two floors up, shoulder charging the exit door and running into a corridor…

The building rocked as something exploded. His mind flashed Grenade! as flames and a shockwave spiralled up the shaft, into the corridor. He could hear things collapsing behind him as he ran, tripped and slid to a stop. The lights went out, to be replaced by emergency lights and the fire suppression system became active. Cursing, he looked up at the sprinkler belting down water. Q’Dunn punched the ground in frustration and in response to the water flaring up the pain on the cuts he had. His leg was hurting plenty now and if he wasn’t a Jedi, more than likely he would be staying here until help came. If it ever did. If he hadn’t been a Jedi he would be dead anyway. He absolutely cursed a vile streak, highly annoyed and frustrated. The durasteel rods were thrown in a clatter at the wall opposite, he placed his head in his hands.

Q’Dunn also felt like @#%$. He was hurting. Shot at, tortured, attempted execution, running into a totally unexpected fighter, stabbed, dodged bombs….. this was not one of those days he was ever going to remember with any fondness. Well, apart from finally admitting to himself what the hell he was. What was annoying him more than anything right now was this arrogant bantha of an Imperial. That barstard could say all the wanted about high and mighty motives, but he was the one who enabled this @#%$ Governor to do what he had. He was the one to blame for the disappearance of the Republic’s ships and good men, like Johnnasson. He bought Q’Dunn here by his actions. It was his actions that lead to the turbolaser bombardment. His actions that caused the firefight.

Cause and effect it was. The Imperial truly didn’t understand it. And for that, Q’Dunn would glady, right now, throttle him.

Here I am, on some shithole of a planet, all because some ass of a Imperial wanted money – for what. To fund his little games. If there wasn’t fools like that, I would never have needed to continue fighting. I would never be here, bloody hurting. There would be no need for innocents to be caught in the crossfire. Don’t people like Tondry realise that? I don’t want to bloody well be here, I didn’t want all this. I don’t want to fight any more. Yet, I have to, because it’s what I’m good at and no one else stands up against them. Self righteous twat.

And if I had not come here, I would have just continued as I was, living day by day until death caught me. I would never have reclaimed what is mine to claim and to be. I would have lived my life for nothing…. And wasn’t that one of the reasons I turned from the Dark Side so long ago?

He thought about this for a minute. Yes, he would never have returned as a Jedi. Damn it, it was much easier sometimes if you didn’t see the other side to the coin! He owed Tondry that. His actions lead to Marcus Q’Dunn rejoining the path of the Light Side, where his feet truly belonged. Gah, this sucked.

People like Tondry often believed the ends justified the means. That was wrong. You don’t support men like Yveyss for any reason, ever. He could have said he was only obeying orders when he was sent, years ago to kill that family. But he chose not to. Some ends could not be justified, ever.

In a few hours, this whole planet will be surrounded and anything that even looks hostile shot to atoms. We’ll get the ships back and we will find the men that were with those ships. I swear, if they were murdered, Tondry will hang with the rest of the defectors and Yveyss. There won’t be a place on this rock to hide.

He closed his eyes, tired. He wanted to rest quite badly as the day’s events were taking their toll on him. He also had this feeling that he needed to face off Tondry again, by himself and very, very soon.

He glanced up, allowing the water from the sprinkler to wash over his face. If he was to face Tondry, he would need to outthink the Imperial. The problem with Jedi, they relied on the Force too much. It had been a lesson Q’Dunn had learned in the early days of being Tohmahawk. You just didn’t think for yourself if you expected that little voice to tell you what to do. He had learned that lesson well… and proptly threw it out the window when he admitted who he was. Somewhat chastened, he set to thought where Pierce Tondry could be.

If you were facing a Jedi Master, the normal course of action would be to run. Tondry hadn’t done that. He wanted to delay the Jedi, to allow every person to get clear. Then he would run, right….? Run for it and regroup? Run and get off the planet?

No. If he was that concerned about his men and what a Jedi Master could do, he wouldn’t run. You would want to neutralise the Jedi first, so you would be outside, setting a trap of some sort, or on the comm. Link, ordering someone to bomb this building flat. Maybe…

He frowned in thought. No, he had this all wrong. Completely wrong. He knew he had time on his side, Pierce Tondry didn’t. Q’Dunn was alone and didn’t give a damn about these troops of Arcan IV, more than likely in on this whole defection. More than likely enemies of the New Republic. Tondry had placed his allies first. And the Imperial would have no real idea what Q’Dunn was like. Okkkaaaayyy…

First tho, he needed some medical attention and also a new set of clothes. He tried to get up, finding his injured leg was refusing to work properly first time. Pain shot up his back from the cut hamstring. All he could do is deaden the agony with the Force and push himself for just a bit longer. He staggered around for a few minutes, looking for a med kit – which he found in a kitchen – and also a locker, which he forced open to find a black jumpsuit. He stripped off, placing synth skin on the stab wounds, then proceeded to bandage the leg. He nearly fainted as result, but he gritted his teeth and kept going. Next, antibiotic, stimulant patch and pain killer. Yes, he might be a Jedi and he could kill off pain and use the Force for revival, but that would tax his mental reerves. He needed as much in hand as possible.

Eventually, he left the room, dressed, feeling somewhat more intact, with a small pack slung over one shoulder. A few more rooms to look at, he chose a window that over looked a small alley. He jimmied the window open with one of the bars, which had retrieved, took a quick look, then leapt across the gap, grasping onto a window ledge. A quick heave, a smash, he was in and into the darkness inside, he disappered.

**

The patrol was fairly nervous. With rumours of a gas attack, a New Republic SpecOps team on the planet and now at least two Jedi, one whom Yveyss had attempted to execute before identifying himself as a Jedi Master and breaking loose, before killing everyone who couldn’t escape fast enough was somewhere on the loose, tempers were fraying. The local populace had stampeded after the warning, causing even more problems, as well as three gas missiles striking a thankfully deserted area.

The Corporal in charge was having a really, really bad noght, all things considered. The situation was teethering on the edge of control, threatening to explode any second. Everyone wanted answered, he had none. It was a relief to be in an area that was reasonably empty. He ordered a stop, the 10 others in his troop gathered together.

“What now sir?”

“I don’t know…. Private, have we managed to get through to anyone in charge?”

“Nearly sir… the channels are busy tonight. Reports of a riot and there has been a sighting of the blue skin Jedi, in company of an Imperial Guard. Plus a lot of encrypt traffic quite suddenly.”

“Fair enough” The Corporal looked around. This was his home and it was going to pieces. He felt the emotion threatening to overwhelm him, but he managed to keep control. He could see on the faces of everyone, they felt the same.

Their home. The populace had put up with criminals for so long, turning their world into a gangster’s paradise. The first sign that someone wanted to rid of them, they had voted Vyeyss in. But nothing changed….

“Corporal… yeah… I have HQ online! Wait… we’re on hold… oh God no…..”

Like an Angel of Death, a black shadow detached itself from the wall and advanced on the group. Frozen with shock, they couldn’t do anything as the Jedi Master approached. Then accelerated straight at them.

**

The signal op was taking squad 303 off hold, when he heard screams. There was blaster fire. A howl of pain. A desperate cry of “PLEASE NOOOOOOOO!!!” and a wet splat.

“Corporal?” The line was silent, except for a single set of footsteps moving away. The comm. Channel had nothing more than static.

“Corporal?” The op turned to the Lieutenant in charge. “Sir, it seemed squad 303 has suddenly been silenced”

“Pardon?”

“Well, they were on hold, when I took them off hold, all I go t was this….” The Op replayed what he had heard on the loudspeaker. The Lieutenant went white.

“They were attacked! Put all troops in the area..”

“Sir! Putting this to loudspeaker!” yelled aonther Op. The room was abruptly filled with the sounds of fighting and a yell “…. We are under attack! It’s the Jedi Master, he killing us all….” There was at the end a gurgling sound and a splat. Chaos suddenly erupted in the comms room, questions, requests for orders. The Lieutenant looked scared, before hitting the general broadcast button

“Yellow alert to all troops! The Jedi Master has taken down squads 303 and 334, Do not engage, repeat do not engage! Observe from a safe distance until further orders!”

“Sir… there is no safe distance from a Jedi” said the first Op, fear written clearly on his face. Another beep of an incoming message. The signaller answered, but was only greeted with a id number… and silence. “Oh @#%$… 2422 – he must have hit them too….”

“Find out where those squads are and get them all out!”

“Red Quad!

“Order pullout of all units in that area! NOW!’

“it wont do any good sir” said a Sargeant.

“I know… but what else can we do? How are we going to stop him killing?”

There was no answer.

**

He looked out across the street, from the doorway to the market building. A rifle, taken from the hands of a dead man was in his hands. The area was quiet and now deserted.

Perfect.

He closed his eyes and sent out a call via the Force

Pierce Tondry…. If you don’t want more of your men to die… be at the front of the Blue Oyster Bar as soon as you can. Else more die. You will come alone

[Nathan W3st]

"Frack. I feel bad for the guy who has to clean this mess up."

There had to be gallons of blood coating the floor, leaving a sticky sweet smell that followed somone for several minutes. Four had been decapitated by West and Spannik's gunfire, and the rest of the squad had never made it up the ladder, thanks to a thermal detonator.

"Is your work always this messy?"

"Only when I'm wearin my plastic underpants."

Gurney blinked a few times, surprised, and Spannik grinned. Plastic underpants? Nathan pulled the saber back off his belt, and ran the blade through the last two consoles several times, stopping when there was just smoldering remains.

" Arden, reporting. Done with our bit. "

West tapped the com on the side of his helmet.
" L"

" Was about to go give Arden a hand."

" Looks like we're done here. Lets see if we can make the job easier for the boys above. Loaf, got any more of the pretty stuff? "

" Neg. Used it on primary ob"

" Alternatives?"

There was a length of silence, some mumbling. " We go grocery shopping."

[Pierce Tondry]

"Get communications to my loyal support forces," Desmond Yevyss ordered, staring out the window where a transport had been and gone not three quarters of an hour ago. Now the only thing left to view was wreckage and a raccoon crawling over it while foaming at the mouth.

"Tell them to evacuate the area on any ship they can," he continued. "Olar and his forces are already aboard our new fleet, and I intend to be there in fifteen minutes. Then, we're going to be leaving this mudhole."

The person at the other end of the line paused. "I, uh, don't have their names, sir. That list was classified."

Yevyss sighed. All of Jax's- no, Tondry's- classifiying, organizing, and need-to-know basis systems seemed to be getting in the way.

Well, forget Tondry. No one knew where he was, anyway, and the transport that had apparently been filled with his men had disappeared through an enormous sensor gap which had occurred right around the time his gas launchers had been destroyed.

"Here is the list," he said, transmitting it to the man. "Now, get to work."

######

Pierce downloaded the list to a pair of datapads. He picked up one copy of the list and looked at it. "Yes, sir," he replied, his vocoder patch doing the work of disguising his voice. "I'll have it done in ten minutes."

He cut the comm, pulled off the vocoder patch and looked at the secret gathering of men around him. They were officers from Arcan IV who had been privy to the events that had happened without knowing who Pierce was, or what he had been there to do. Now they knew everything- what they had not known before about events and motivations, Pierce had told them.

Not everyone believed his version of things, but most were willing to suspend their disbelief.

"I know you don't like working for Yevyss," he said. "And I know I've put you between a rock and a hard place- in this case, that hard place is a Jedi Master with New Republic backing. But you've also seen what's been happening here. You've been ignored by the Republic. You've been abused by criminals. It wasn't until I came that things changed."

"You all seem like men who can remain loyal to your outfit. I want that loyalty behind me."

Pierce extended the datapad to the nearest officer. "This list contains the name of every criminal, mercenary unit, and soldier supporting Desmond Yevyss in this city and on these ships. Go up to the HQ and tell them that you have new priorities- to apprehend and eliminate every person on this datapad. Throw Olar out. Don't listen to Jeger. Take power and justice back into your own hands instead. Restore law."

The Vice-Director of Imperial Intelligence stepped back. "My organization is available, if you need it. And if you want to join it."

"What if Jeger bombards us?" one of them asked. "What if we get beaten back?"

Pierce's lips wanted to smile, but he didn't. "Jeger will destroy himself, just like I knew Yevyss would. You all heard me tell him never to give that list out, didn't you? Not to anyone he didn't know, and look who has it now. And you have the motivation to do something about it."

His audience nodded. Given that they'd just heard Yevyss intended to hang them out to dry, Pierce had no doubts on the strength of their motivation. "And what about the Jedi Master? He's killing us all indiscriminantly."

A sick look almost touched Pierce's face, but he stopped it along with the impulse to touch his bandage-wrapped abdomen. He had recieved the mental message and almost hit his head looking around in surprise.

Oh, how he ever missed his ysalamiri.

"He wants me," Pierce took a deep breath. "So, I'll go delay him some more. And here, I thought I'd gotten away."

"So how much do we pay you for services rendered?"

Pierce shrugged. "Join me. Support me. That's what I really want."

"No," someone in a Major's uniform stepped forward. "Most of us don't want to be a part of anyone's group anymore- not the Republic, not the Sith Empire, not yours. We want to be alone for right now to fix things here, and we don't want to owe anyone. You came here as a merc, and mercs are paid. What's your price Tondry?"

Pierce shook his head. "Sorry, gentlebeings. I'm the kind of guy who can't be bought. If you really want to compensate me, then we'll talk. Later, when our hides are all safe."

' It was a command performance,' Pierce thought as he examined their faces. ' I wonder how many of them accepted it?' "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a Jedi Master to deal with."

######

Five minutes later saw Pierce at the foot of a transport's ramp. "I can't leave," he stated. "Q'Dunn's still alive, and that means unfinished business."

"Frag, Targeter," Hemline stated. "Ditch him. Operational security. All our D-Delta Shooters are safe and sound. We can lift now and get out before the big bang. It's not good."

"It's not safe," Magic Fingers seconded.

"It's not smart," another Tau shooter, callsign Torch, added.

"Didn't your mother ever tell you not to abandon your outfit, Grainier?" Pierce countered. "Because if she didn't, I know I sure as hell did. There's people counting me, and I'm not gonna let them down. Just like I won't let you down. But I gotta do this. This is it. Him and me, for all the chips."

Hemline, who was busy quaffing a beer, nodded a head backwards at Torch. Torch disappeared from the top of the ramp and returned holding a rifle- Pierce's personal rifle.

"We put her together and oiled her up," Hemline told him as Torch brought the weapon down. "Because we knew you'd say that, you pus-nutted, no brained, monkey trainer."

Pierce laughed aloud. "If I'm a monkey trainer, you guys are my apes," he hooted. "Now drag those knuckles into the transport and wait for my signal."

Hemline nodded and waved his beer mug. "Everybody on the ship, boys."

######

Q'Dunn looked around again, this time in Pierce's general direction. He obviously knew Pierce was in the vicinity, but wasn't sure exactly where.

That was fine. Pierce settled down, aimed, and fired a shot that was perfectly placed at Q'Dunn's feet.

The Jedi Master looked down, then looked up, apparently not worried. "You miss me that much?" Pierce said. He stepped out into view and leaned against a tree, his rifle in one hand. From beneath his clothes he produced a cigarra and lit it.

A smoke ring blew out from his mouth.

"I'm touched," Pierce stated, shifting the cigarra to the other side of his mouth as he lifted his rifle. Q'Dunn did the same. "Not as touched as you are in the head."

"Nice new digs," Q'Dunn stated, gazing at the nighttime outfit and black face grease Pierce was now wearing.

"Yours still suck," Pierce stated. "Now let's get this over with. I want you to make the first move and show me exactly how Sith Jedi can be."

[Marcus QDunn]

Q’Dunn glanced down at the rifle he had picked up in the building he had escaped from, taken from one of the guards in that room. He threw it aside, as it wasn’t going to be needed.

“First move Hmmmm? Sure, I’ll show you a first move. CORPORAL!”

The Corporal, the man who had been in charge of Squad 303 opened the door of the Blue Oyster Bar and came out. He jogged over to Q’Dunn and then saluted.

“Yes General Tohmahawk?”

“Time please Corporal”

“4:15 local”

“And my troops? How are they progressing?”

“Very well General. We have been in secure comm. Contact delivering the message to people we know think like us and the word is spreading fast. The runners have also been in contact with groups in the area, we now have speeders going to others. We’re close to ready General”

“Good. Consider my offer Corporal”

“Thank you you Sir… and Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you and good luck”

Q’Dunn smiled and dismissed the trooper who jogged off into the night. Tondry stood coldy, watching, before speaking.

“What was that about?”

“Four hours ago, the New Republic Special Forces flagship – my flagship, dropped out of hyperspace and it’s Captain sent a message to my ship that is here. It was an update timemark. Much to my surprise, the NRSF fleet will be arriving 4 minutes early, at 4.56 am. At which time, your little game will be ended. The Destroyers in orbit will be told to surrender and accept New Republic command. Once the fleet arrives, there will be a message sent to them, telling them the planet is ally, I am alive and leading the ground force already in place”

Damn he was a cold one. No reaction at all.

“General Scorpion also has been spreading the word, with the help of a few friends ever since my performance for the holocam, also getting word to the civilians to get inside and stay there. I would say that maybe even some of Yveyss’ cronies know now too. I don’t care now, it’s too late to escape. It’s clear that Yveyss and co are responsible for the loss of 22 Star Destroyers and for that, they will be punished. Like you, right now”

“No one died?” he snapped back

“Amazing what a few willing people and some Jedi sound tricks can do. No, they all joined me willingly and helped me draw you here” The Jedi’s hands clenched and unclenched, pain from the damage shooting up the wrists. But not as much, not with the painkiller. And now for the real reason he had drawn the Imperial out and here. “I’m not here because I want to be. All because some ass of a Imperial wanted money – for what. To fund his little games. If there wasn’t fools like that, I would never have needed to continue fighting. I would never be here, bloody hurting. There would be no need for innocents to be caught in the crossfire. Don’t people like you realise that? I don’t want to bloody well be here, I didn’t want all this. I don’t want to fight any more. Yet, I have to, because it’s what I’m good at and no one else stands up against them. Self righteous twat you are Tondry”

Enough talking. The Jedi had been walking closer and now the time was right. He waved a hand, the Imperials gup was ripped out of his hands and sent flying. Q’Dunn pounced, moving far, far too fast. He grabbed Tondry’s shirt with one hand, his belt with the other. Muscles bunched and he called on the Force, picking up the Imperial and flinging him across the street and through A shop window. Whether by good aim or sheer good luck, Tondry sailed into an opening of it, but smashing into the display – mainly filled with clothing that cushioned his landing. Q’Dunn wasn’t far behind, choosing also dive through the opening. The Jedi caught the Imperial with an elbow strike as he sailed past, to roll to his feet and ready for the Imperial once again.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

Scorpion could get only get a blurred wave of any sort of direction as to the whereabouts of his friend, who he was still referring to in his mind 'Tohmahawk'. For a brief moment, he could sense him and easily point out where he was, but not to the exact point. His new Light powers were still young and forming. It frustrated him deeply to know that regaining his abilities was a dark thought away.

Just one stroke of mind...

He shook his head quickly, dismissing the idea. He reached out with the Force again, this time not looking for a sense, but a contact with his friend. No words, but just a clear mental message that was asking his position. Scorpion didn't know if it would be received or not, but he could always hope.

Scorpion spun on one heel, facing the troops, snapping his fingers repeatedly and beckoning the one carrying the advanced comlink equipment. The boy - as he was a bit too young to be called a man - rushed over with the equipment strapped to his back. Jyanis grabbed the com unit and flicked the device on, setting an open frequency to troops, normally meant for relaying orders. Static filled the receivers and a high pitch caused him to cringe away in annoyance. A click sound followed as his voice properly transmitted.

"Soldiers of Arcan IV, this is General Jyanis Quias Iquis'corp'ioninj of the New Republic Special Forces. As some of you, probably most of you, may already know, your own Governor has attacked the alien quarter, but what you might not know, is that the New Republic has made its presence here because that same man has stolen an entire New Republic fleet with the help of his mercenaries and hired military men. You have been deceived! Even now a force powerful enough to decimate the planet is on its way, but we only want those responsible for this string of catastrophic events. The New Republic is prepared to offer a promise of safety or asylum to those who'll either throw down their arms or bear them alongside us. That is all."

It was followed by another click as he turned off the equipment, handing the soldier his com unit back.

He turned to Lord Fire Blade, who hadn't really moved an inch when not necessary.

"I could use a good evening jog. How about you?"

[Arya Ravenwing]

It was too late. She was going to die when those canisters hit the quarter. Arya stumbled in the wet street and caught herself on her hands, scrambling for traction as adrenaline told her to keep going. And then, inexplicably, the incoming gas canisters exploded above them in an impressive cloud of red powder. The rain and the wind would do the rest, dispelling the residue.

Without the impact and detonation sequence, the gas was harmless. Arya stopped in her tracks and blessed the Maker as the moon illuminated the cloud above them. Turbogeek plowed into her.

"Why are you stopped?" He pulled at her arm. "Aren't we in danger still?"

Arya clutched at the medallion under her jumpsuit and jerked her head to the left. "Of course we are. But not from those," she pointed up, at the red clouds. "Not anymore. Now we just have to keep clear of troopers and get to my Chevette."

Confusion reigned in the streets as fleeing citizens halted and pointed to the skies. Arya threaded a path through the crowded streets, allowing her mind's eye to pick out a back alley route towards the spaceport. They were almost there. The rain had dissolved into a steady drizzle, and Arya's hair stuck to her scalp as she jogged through the dirty alleyways. Turbogeek was stumbling along behind her, although, as she listened to him, his limp was going away.

She tugged on the straps of her bag. Good. I hate to lose him. TBH wouldn't look too kindly on that. She turned a corner, just a block away from the spaceport, and ran smack into a road block. "Frell!" She dove to the side immediately, ducking back around the corner as Turb passed her.

He turned to her, "Arya, wha-?"

"STOP where you are! There is a curfew in affect. By order of Govenor Yevyss we will detain you-" Turbogeek ran back around the corner. "HALT!" Footsteps echoed in the empty street. Lots of footsteps.

"Krasst!" Arya hissed through clenched teeth, handing her blaster to him. "Cover me, and try and stay away from them-!" She ran out, stopping directly in front of the troopers. They halted in momentary surprise, and then leveled their blasters at her. She smiled, a white gash in her greasepainted face, and then the first trooper fell to the ground, a blaster bolt having taken him high and in the chest. Arya ducked and grabbed up his blaster, using Turbogeek's distraction to shoot two more troopers.

The group of soldiers scattered through the street, and Arya ran to a doorway, leaning against it for cover as all hell broke loose. Again. It was a hellish night. She crouched in the muck of Arcan IV and peeked around the corner, only to nearly have her face shot off. Chips from the permacrete structure hit her in the cheek and forehead as she threw herself back into a corner. All right, Ravenwing, what's the big plan now? Strangely enough, the thing she most wanted to do was scratch her synflesh. She pushed that thought aside and located Turbogeek.

He was holding his own across the street, although he wasn't as comfortable as she was with a gun. Arya leveled the blaster rifle she had pulled from the dead trooper at his position and wasted a soldier who was about to shoot him. Then she darted out of her hiding space, to cross the street and stay with Turbogeek. Best laid plans.

The blaster rifle was shot out of her hands, and then a body was throwing her to the ground. Arya bucked, tossing her assailant off her back, and kicked his legs out from under him as he came at her again. "Frelling mudsucker!" She bashed him good and hard in the face with her elbow, and then a fist to the groin. He slumped to the ground momentarily as others came to finish what he started.

Someone grabbed her arm, and another her leg as Arya struggled. With her free leg she loosened a major's teeth as she yelled at the top of her lungs. "RUN!" She only hoped that Turb had the sense to abandon her. Not that she was helpless. She twisted around, falling to the ground and scrabbling for a trooper's eye sockets with her fingers. He screamed with pain as her thumb found softness.

[Darth Turbogeek]

For once, Turbogeek didn’t argue and he didn’t pause. He bolted away, feet pounding in the mud and water as he made good his escape. The rifle in his hands was sizzling as rain touched it’s barrel, curls of steam coming off it. He dashed around a corner, slid to a stop. He glanced behind him and realised there had been no further pursuit. The young man began to examine where he was, trying to work out what he was going to do now. There seemed to be a major case of insanity going around tonight, what with the odd explosion, curfews, threats of gassing and panic.

So, in all of this, what did he do now? He and Arya were separated, the sign above him read 106 miles to Chicago, an billboard blinked something about being full of gas, half a pack of smokesticks were in the gutter, it was dark…

Crunch

And he just stepped on someone’s sunshades. On the plus side, he was in one piece and he could meet up with Arya back at her ship. Only problem was he had not a clue where he was and where the frell the landing field was.

You rely on Arya too much

Yes, he had to admit, that was completely correct. There was so little he knew and she knew what to do all the time, she was a crutch for his own lack of experience. It wasn’t a bad thing, but Turbogeek got a good idea why it could be bad. He was in a vacuum, with no idea what to do next.

Why not look around? Might learn a few things or find someone who knows directions

Not a bad idea and he perked up. Nothing like a good bit of exploring for something to do. Besides, he would take a bet and say Arya would come looking for him. Don’t go too far, just look…

“Hey there big boy. Is that a gun in your pocket or are you glad to see me?”

Puzzled by this highly bizarre greeting, he whipped around to see a woman in the most extraordinary revealing outfit. She looked a bit tired and bored, but definantly not threatening. Curiousity got the better of him. “Well, I have a gun in my hands, but I don’t have one in my pocket. Who are you and why would I be glad to see you?”

“Well, that depends. I’m the Pleasure Machine”

Confused, he blurted out the first thing that came to his mind. “But you don’t look like a droid to me?”

She stared, then hacked out a laugh. “Hey, do you have any idea what I am?”

Really, really puzzled, he shook his head, eyes never leaving this woman’s face.

“You pay me and we have a good time in bed. How does that sound?”

“What, I pay you and we play games? Doesn’t sound all that much of a good time. What if we got bored of the game and wanted to read instead?”

She gave Turbogeek a disbelieving look. “Do you know what a prostitute is?”

“Ummm… no? Is that what you are? What do you do? How do have fun? Are you only looking for big boys with guns in pockets?”

The woman broke the flood of questions with one of her own. “Do you have credits?”

“No, Arya has them. Why?”

“Arya… a woman?”

“Yes, we came here together. Would she be a prostitute as well?”

She laughed. “No darling, I doubt it. Look, business is bad tonight, how about you come on inside and stay warm? Your kinda cute, the other girls would love to talk to you. What’s you name?”

“Oh.. errr.. Crowe. Russele Crowe” Now where had he pulled that name from? Seemed like an idea not to say what his real name was.

“Well Crowe, come inside and stay warm”

He went into the door she indicated, into a well lit room. There were several other women there, all dressed – if you call it that – in the weirdest clothes. The girls looked at the new comer with some interest.

“Hey ladies, this is Russele. He’s a virgin!”

He was somewhat puzzled, but as he was introduced, he felt more relaxed. And as the evening wore on, he found out what a prostitute was. They told him. And what they did.

And about whips

And chains

And positions

But it was the whipped cream that made his eyes bug out the most.

[Pierce Tondry]

Pierce stopped himself and did a push-up to regain his footing. Q'Dunn had stopped, as though waiting on something. Their eyes met, and Pierce shook his head in disgust. "You're the only one playing games, boy. Faking the deaths of others to get me out here. Fine. I was here. No one's life is at stake. Did what I had to do to ensure people's safety."

Pierce shook his head again, this time in disappointment. "Force only knows why they'd trust you to lead them, after abandoning them to their own damn fate six months ago. You think you know why I'm here? You don't. You really fragging don't. I'll give you a hint- this operation was named Mudcrawler. Figure the rest out, smart guy."

He turned to walk away, and predictably, Q'Dunn attacked. Pierce ducked his punch and rammed his shoulder into the other's diaphragm, knocking the wind out of him and toppling him to the ground. Pierce then exited the front door, calm as can be.

Outside, he spotted his rifle almost immediately. There was someone next to it, dressed in ragged clothes. A thief, by the way his eyes moved.

"Hey!" Pierce shouted. "Get away from that!"

The thief looked down at the rifle, then looked up at Pierce. He snatched the weapon into his hands and began to run.

"HEY!" Pierce started after him.

He didn't get anywhere. Instead, he froze as though there were an invisible noose around his neck. The noose jerked him backwards- a light tug, like one might pull on the leash of a misbehaving pet.

"Get back here!" Q'Dunn. Damn him. Damn that man. Damn that Jedi.

Pierce watched helplessly as the thief rounded a corner with his rifle, watched as it was lost to him yet again.

Damn Q'Dunn to hell.

There was another jerk that sent Pierce stumbling backwards, through the door to the store.

Pierce whipped himself around, swinging his fists in a wide-arc. One of them caught a surprised Q'Dunn on the side of the face. Pierce struck again, swinging his fists in the opposite direction, starting a series of punches, each catching a strangely slow-moving Q'Dunn. "You @#%$," he stated. "That rifle meant something to me!"

He let fly with all his strength and caught Marcus one last time, spinning him around. Pierce spotted the opportunity and wrapped his arms around Marcus' neck, putting him in a choke hold. "You are hereby charged under Section 18-A, subsection 32 of the Imperial law code," Pierce growled. "Accessory to theft of a properly licensed and permitted weapon. Since you are unable to return the stolen property, the act carries with it a fine of up to 3,000 credits and six months in an Imperial jail. I will see it happen, Q'Dunn, I promise you that."

The hold was released, sending Q'Dunn gasping for air. Pierce booted him in the backside, sending him tumbling. "But later. I have something more important to do."

Q'Dunn lifted a hand and a set of frying pans came flying at him. Pierce ducked, then snatched a pan out of the air, swung it around, and clanged Marcus upside the head with it. His opponent's eyes rolled back in their head and the other pans fell away.

Pierce looked at the pan, which now bore a dent from Q'Dunn's hard head. "Eat poetic justice, Turbofreak," he murmured.

A set of steak knives lifted themselves off a shelf and came flying at Pierce, who vaulted into the next isle over. The knives reoriented and continued to home in on him, so Pierce ran away, snatching up several boxes of crackers. The cracker boxes became defensive shields in which the knives buried themselves. Pierce discarded his tools and looked around.

There was a noise to his left.

Pierce dove forward, landing amid scattered crackers and boxes. Over his head, a trash can lid whistled by.

Scrambling to his feet, Pierce reached a door in the back wall, which he threw open. Pitch darkness lay beyond.

A noise behind him.

Pierce spun around to see a large sandwich flying at him. Without thinking, he pulled something from inside his combat vest and ignited it.

The orange lightsaber blade carved through the sandwich, and it tumbled to the floor. Beyond the fallen sandwich Pierce could see Q'Dunn, who was staring at Pierce with a certain expectant look on his face. The expectation became suspicion, and suspicion blended to some kind of understanding.

"Surprised that a non-Force user can wield one of these?" Pierce called out. "Don't be. I've trained in handling these before, just in case I happened to run into a Jedi and I managed to snatch his weapon."

Pierce thumbed the weapon off, then backed through the doorway, pulling it shut behind him.

[Marcus QDunn]

Barely a second after Tondry had closed the door, it seemed to explode outwards, torn off it’s mounts, dented enough to be folded, as a result of the side kick Q’Dunn had given it. The door bounced and clattered to a stop as the Jedi Master walked through the hole left.

“My Sabre. Give it back”

“My gun! Fetch!”

“Yeah, I bet your real attached to it. Does it give you sexual favours? Give me the sabre back”

“FRELL YOU!”

“No thanks, not my type. Did anyone ever tell you you’re a most inept user of a sabre? You don’t deserve it”

“You’re a pathetic excuse for a Jedi, Turbofreak”

“Yes….. he was. Your not leaving here, I’m not finished with you”

“Fine, I am with you. Rot in hell or whatever Jedi do” Tondry turned, disgusted to walk away

“I know where De’ville is. I think I might go kill your Sith Whore, how does that sound?”

“Games. Keep your threats and shove them…”

“I don’t make threats. If I say I’m going to rip her throat out, I will. I know exactly where she is. Maybe I’ll to her first what you think that Jedi supposably did. Give me my sabre back”

Finally broke through that cold exterior. The Imperial turned, with a murderous look on his face. “Come get it!” he snarled, turning and running.

The Jedi paused, then pushed off with his good leg, accelerating. The Imperial must have known he stood little chance in outrunning a Jedi, for he turned and aimed a punch at Q’Dunn’s face. The Jedi was already ducking and sliding, going underneath. He came to rest, breathed in, then out, calming his mind, his body.

He was Calm itself

He was peace.

He was a Jedi.

The Imperial moved incredibly fast, but even that seemed in slow motion. The Jedi was miving slowly backwards, blocking and defending with bewildering speed. He was finally not restraining himself, he was moving at a speed only a Jedi Master could. The Force seemed to buzz through him like a current, moving through and around him, guiding his movements.

Now!

Tondry stepped in with a punch that was far, far too slow. Q’Dunn blocked, then sent a backfist strike thundering into Tondry’s ribs, the snapped the fist back to his side. For someone moving with normal speed, it would have been hard to tell if he even moved. Then the Jedi simply opened up on Tondry. The end result of 100 years of training and mastery of fighting arts, of the Force, came out, expressed into an attack like hardly imagined. Each kick or punch designed to set up the next one. No move wasted. This time there was no escape, for everything the Imperial tried, the Jedi replied with something faster and stronger.

He hit Tondry in the solar plexus, drew his fist back and then punched. With every bit of strength given to him from his life in heavy gravity, with every bit of power the Force could give him. His fist connected with Tondry’s cheekbone, the energy of the hit. breaking bone and skin. The Imperial staggered backwards, Q’dunn pulling the other fist back and unleashing a second punch like the previous, smashing into the other side of Tondry’s face. Blood sprayed from the Imperial’s mouth and nose and there was another sickening crunch as the other cheekbone broke. The Jedi tore into Tondry’s body, hitting, hitting and hitting again. Then came another thunderous punch, right to the chin. Tondry took five stumbling steps back, before coming to a standstill. Q’Dunn readied another punch, before thinking twice and just simply reaching out and lightly tapping Tondry on the chest

The Imperial fell over like a falling tree, to crash onto the ground. A few seconds later, the rain started up again, as Q’Dunn came close, then sat on his hunches, examining his fallen foe. The Imp was going to have a truly spectacular set of bruises developing, as was Q’Dunn. The bugger… had panned him! And it damn well hurt. As did his hands, cut, bruised, bleeding. Probably broken fingers. His thigh was screaming. He was going to need bacta time and soon.

But there was the business here first. He reached over to where the sabre had been dropped, probably when the Jedi had first ducked. The hilt was wet, the strangely elongated handle, with it’s sword like shearing guard. Despite the cold, it was warm in his hands. He turned in his hands, stopping to look at the inscription on it

Marcus & Helenais / Forever Together

He could almost cry right then. His dear wife. It didn’t seem fair that such a sweet soul had been taken while scum like Tondry were still alive and free to walk.

Or was he scum?

The night events had shown Tondry up for more than just an Imperial. Q’Dunn didn’t understand how such a man could have such a lapse of judgement and work for Vesyss. He supposed everyone made mistakes. Q;Dunn made them too. The secret was to always learn something and never make the same mistake twice.

The Jedi reached over and gently touched the Imperial’s forehead. A small tendril of the Force touched Tondry’s mind, gently bringing the man back to conscious. He took his hand away, stood and then activated the Light sabre Athona. The Flame sabre whooshed to life, the blade immediately colour shifting in response to the hand of it’s proper owner holding it. Any other person would get an orange blade. A Dark Sider would be dead. The tip of the blade hovered just a tiny bit above the throat of the Imperial.

“I’ll say this once Pierce Tondry. Your good, else you would be dead. I didn’t trick you to come here to play games, I forced you to come here to see what a Jedi really can do. To show you - you could be more – much more. I make an offer to you. You can have this sabre, the sabre my now dead wife gave to me when you make the rank of Jedi Knight. It’s the most precious thing I have, but I would willingly give it away, just to see someone like you become Jedi, because the Force knows they are needed. Think it over for some time Pierce. Maybe one day you might realise what I’m really like”.

He began to walk away, but turned for one final time.

“I wasn’t joking when I mentioned how the Sith women are nothing more than low sluts. Except one. I met her once at a bar the Jedi occupy. She was troubled and even though we were natural enemies, we shared our burdens to a degree. We both went drink for drink – except she didn’t realise alcohol doesn’t affect me. She basically collapsed. I took her to my room and stayed guard over her so no one smart ass got ideas, because she had integrity, honour and values. Keep your Lily well Pierce, one’s like her are easy to bruise and destroy – give them care and they will bloom beyond your imagination.”

He turned away and began to walk into the night, flicking the sabre off. “Maybe one day you’ll find out what I really am. Goodbye until the next we meet Pierce”. He continued to walk as the rain fell, eventually turning a corner and walked down an alley. Or limped. His leg was feeling worse and worse. As he was contemplating sitting and resting, to his surprise he came across the thief who had taken Tondry’s gun! The thief was startled and pointed the weapon at Q’Dunn.

“Put it down friend”

His light sabre came on again, to give his words emphasis. The thief took one look, panicked, dropped the gun and ran. Q’Dunn shook his head, then bent to pick the rather superb weapon up. He considered. And smiled.

--

“INCOMING!!!”

The bellow shattered the silence of the street. In the dim light, a package was thrown high in the air. Q’Dunn didn’t know if it would be caught, but that was almost beside the point. He had tossed the gun in the general direction of Tondry, with a strip of cloth, tied in the shape of a bow and an IOU of 2,999 credits, scribbled on a piece of paper, made out in the name of James T. Tohmahawk, redeemable in person.

--

Five minutes later, he found one of the troops he had recruited on the fly not long ago.

“Any trouble General?”

“Not much. Sitrep?”

“A Jyanis Scorpion made an APB in the name of the New Republic a moment ago. We have a good number of troops on our side, but there is a lot of Yesyss holdouts as well as crims. It looks like being a big fight. Is your fleet really coming?”

“In about half soldier. You have a comm. Unit?”

The soldier handed it over. Tohmahawk dialled up his private command frequency, and then pressed send. “Jyanis, where the hell are you? Stop being a lazy bantha, gather all friendlies and neutralise all hostiles. Get to it, I want this @#%$ hole cleaned out. West, situation’s changed. Find friendlies and give assistance. Tohmahawk out”

Damn, it was good to be alive.

[Pierce Tondry]

(ooc) YEVYSS! For God's sake, Mark, just copy and paste! :lol:

(ic)
Pierce put a hand on his head, which throbbed distractingly. What the hell was Marcus talking about? Jedi? Pierce was no damn Jedi- he sure as heck couldn't do the old invisible choke routine. If he could, he would have done so, several times over.

Another Jedi lie. Marcus had spouted so many of them, truth might as well have taken a vacation for all the good it was doing on this planet.

Pierce hurt. There was no place that did not ache right now. He had been duped to get him here, he had been beaten horribly, he had lost his rifle, the fight, and for a brief instant his cool...

Perhaps most tellingly, he had lost the competition with the New Republic, started when Pierce had first discovered the Turbogeek clone on the planet. Like a bird of prey spying good fortune, the New Republic had swooped down and inserted itself as the good guy. To the Arcans, Pierce Tondry was nothing more than the mercenary scum he despised.

And yet, it had only taken Intel's computers six minutes to come up with Desmond Yevyss' true identity as owner of an extensive criminal cartel, when Pierce's spies within the Republic indicated they had no idea or the situation and no desire to investigate.

Even now, Pierce could remember the fury he'd felt when he had learned that the Republic had confirmed a crimelord's appointment to Governorship of a planet. He remembered the promise he had made to bring the man down.

Another month of planning had followed that, and then two months worth of setting the bait, which Yevyss' greed and ambition had prompted him to take just as Pierce had predicted. And with Intel's skill, Pierce had manipulated not just this planet's Governor, but his chief military officials into setting themselves up for a fall.

Arcan IV's criminal groups had been sorted out, and it had been no problem to get Yevyss to eliminate the competition. And just like Pierce had predicted he would, Yevyss eventually abandoned his army and given them the motivation to destroy him. And because of Pierce's organizing, all the criminals on Yevyss' side were named into a list, located, and described.

Without the Republic there, things would have been simple. A commando raid would have taken out Yevyss, Olar, and Jeger, and another raid using the list would eliminated 90 percent of the planet's criminal population. Pierce and Intel would have been heroes, and the New Republic would have come across as the uncaring politically-oriented bantha dung it was. A grand manipulation that had unlimited potential to advance Imperial Intelligence and its' cause.

Not anymore. Though the Arcan IV military had his list in their hands, Arcan IV would now go to support the Republic and their hateful Jedi. Damn Murphy's law and its' unfairness.

Too worn and in too much pain to keep awake any longer, Pierce's head hit the pavement and he blacked out again.

######

Pierce woke up some time later coughing and spitting blood. It was still night, and things were still quiet.

He felt better- obviously the sleep had done him good. His increased healing factor had been at work, and Pierce no longer felt quite as wrecked as he had.

The doctors had reported that his nerves healed especially quickly, followed by flesh and other epithelial tissue. Bones were the slowest, but even they were still slightly accelerated over his previous recovery time.

Meanwhile, Pierce was hungry, and just outside a store. He recalled that the more he ate (to a point) the faster he would heal as well.

Pierce massaged his aching jaw and entered the back door of the shop again. He located the sandwich cases and pulled one out, opening it up and biting into it. He pulled a few drinks and gulped them down, then gazed at the meal he'd eaten. He also saw the mess that had been left by the fight with Q'Dunn.

Pierce fished around the inside vest pocket and pulled out several ten-credit notes, then left them on the counter next to the register.

Feeling slightly better, Pierce exited the front door. The first thing he saw was the cigarra he'd lost in the initial moves of Q'Dunn's fight.

His lost rifle had been right next to it.

' Damn you Marcus, you filthy wretch,' he thought. ' The day I become a Jedi is the day I shoot you dead with my lost rifle. And that's a promise.'

And now, there was nothing left to do but activate the escape plan. He pulled his commlink from its' protective case and double clicked on it, then dropped down to sit beside the tree next to his extinguished cigarra.

In ten minutes a transport arrived and picked him up. The transport then disappeared back into the Arcan IV night, waiting.

[Liam Jinn]

Liam sat in his chair, looking at his new uniform. Every once and awile Yog would burst out laughing, causing Liam to laugh. Yog was a poor site, had a big white bandage on his cheek from the cat attack. He was slightly startled when the Nav officer announced loudly that they were comming out of hyperspace.

"Ok people, get ready. Once we exit, be on your toes."

The Interdictors came out first, then the smaller ships. Seconds after the way was clear, the huge MC-200 exited hyperspace followed by the Argus.

"What've we got?"

"Sir, we've got a whole bunch of noth...There! There they are!"

The officer feverously pointed at a section of a screen that was lit up.

"Everyone, quiet."

Liam signaled to the com officer and a few moments later got the 'ok' signal.

"NR defectors, I am under strict orders here. If you do not surrender to our fleet, you will be shot down. This is a non-negotiable deal."

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya coughed out a mouthful of mud, and flipped up to her feet. She kicked back to send One Eye to the ground again, and spun to catch another trooper in the nose with her index finger. His left nostril separated from his face in a spray of blood and an agonizing scream. Without a pause, the woman picked up a fallen blaster rifle, swinging the butt into the solar plexus of a man, and shoving the muzzle in the teeth of another. Her finger twitched on the trigger, but the pack was spent. Arya kicked him between the legs instead.

It was no longer raining, but she was a muddy, sodden mess, and covered with blood and peeling synflesh besides. The remaining troopers came at her, but she had already replaced the drained power cell with a fresh one from a downed soldier, and calmly shot two dead with her first two shots. The remaining six troopers had second thoughts, and Arya shot at their heels as they turned tail. One Eye still had some fight in him, so she stepped on his neck until he passed out.

Suddenly weary, Arya sank to her knees in the mud. The four men who were not dead were either crawling away, or laying there unconscious. The two dead soldiers' had smoking hole where their face and chest had been, respectively.

She reached a hand up to her mudcaked hair, and then saw the transport just a few yards down the street. It was a military police type, with no hover capabilities. She had seen hover and ground transports here before, the mix was pretty even, actually. Arcan IV was not a rich planet, and so the poorer folk had to drive through the dirt in the traffic on the ground. It better have four wheel drive in this mud. Arya pulled herself to her feet, grabbed her bag, and made for the vehicle.

Once inside, she threw it into gear (after studying the instruments for a moment), and skidded off into the street. The steering was sluggish and out of alignment...the police/military or whatever the frell had owed this piece of bantha poodoo had let it go too long without a tune up. Arya fishtailed around a corner. Damn non-hovering piece of a ship! She was not used to antiquidated technology like this vehicle. Struggling with the wheel, she got it under control and then proceded towards the spaceport.

She pressed her foot on the brake and hung a u-turn in the middle of the empty street. Krasst, my credits. She needed those to pay off Redd Bu'tci'keros for the spice shipment she had lost a month and a half ago. Arya cursed her luck, Hunter, Turb and half of the population of Arcan IV. Then she cursed the other half as well, slamming her fist on the steering wheel. She sucked in her breath as pain shot up her arm. On closer examination, she realised her knuckles were ripped open and bloody, and she couldn't make a fist without intense pain. No more fighting today. Next time run, stupid woman.

Arya squealed the tires in the mud, skidded, and then the vehicle took off down the street, heading back towards the Crouching Tiger Inn. Turb, if he had found the Chevette in the spaceport, would be just as safe there as he would be here with her. Safer, in fact. And if he hadn't found it yet, he had more time in which to do so.

She had to find those credits. If there was any chance the bag was still in the ruins of the dining hall, or anywhere, ...the odds were small, of course, but she had to risk it. If she didn't have the money, she might as well die here.

[Lord Fire Blade]

I watched as Scorpion shrugged his shoulders at my request and then proceeded to make his presence known on open channel. I would have to surmise that the fleet backup was very close to be timed to be here; else he would never have spoken. I had to wonder what exactly was coming if Scorpion was confident enough to do as he just did. Knowing Scorpion from the RSO days, it was going to be big. Very big.

"I could use a good evening jog. How about you?"

“For what?” I snarled in reply.

“You wanted to speak to my Jedi friend right?”

“Yes”

“Well, let’s find him!”

Above us, three missiles were destroyed. I had to presume they were the gas missiles and someone had succeeded in shooting them down. There would be more, so I nodded. “Ramjet, with us. Scorpion, where to?”

He frowned. “I… think in this direction”

“You think? I want better”

“You do it then!” he snapped. Touchy.

“How would I know, I’m not a Jedi”

He gave me a disgusted look. “This way”

Some time later, walking through the puddles as the rain had stopped, a comm. Unit beeped. Scorpion stopped, taking out one from a pocket and flicking it on. “Scor…”

“Jyanis, where the hell are you? Stop being a lazy bantha, gather all friendlies and neutralise all hostiles. Get to it, I want this @#%$ hole cleaned out. West, situation’s changed. Find friendlies and give assistance. Tohmahawk out”

“@#%$ it good to hear your voice James! Where are you?”

“No idea… wait…. Two blocked west of the Blue Oyster Bar. Someone know where that is?”

“We’ll find it. Are you okay James?”

“Apart from having the crap kicked out of me, Never better. We’ll talk about it later. Okay?”

“Sure. I have a Lord Fire Blade who wants to meet you”

“You got….. WHAT? I’ve had enough of Imperials right now Jyanis. Tell him to go help you instead if he’s not a hostile. Got it?”

“Sure have James. Happy hunting”

“You too you blue freak.” The comm went dead and Scorpion put it away. “You heard the man. Are you with us?”

Good question. I more than anything wanted to meet Tohmahawk… but I had the feeling it wouldn’t happen, not the way I would want it anyway. I looked at the troops, they were looking at me expectantly. Another call came thorough, but this one set off Ramjet’s comm link. He answered.

“All loyal troops of Arcan IV… This is Colonel San’der’s. Our high command has betrayed us and is running! Incoming list of traitors and criminals – hit at will, I repeat hit at will. Former Governor Vevyss now wanted in charges of attempted murder. I repeat, hit all assigned targets at will. Command out”

Ramjet took a look at the list as it scrolled down a data pad. “Ah poodoo”

“What sir?”

“There are some what I would have called good men…. It looks like we have an ugly morning coming. Are you ready boys?”

They all nodded. “General, would you do the honours and take command?”

“Certainly. Where’s the nearest target?”

Five minutes later, I accompanied the group as they hit the closest target – what they knew now was a glitslim warehouse. I had decided to at least help for a while. The fire fight was not long as Ramjet’s troops were angry – angry at the fact their own brothers in arms would betray them. Angry the biggest criminal of all had duped them. The warehouse burned as a gas line exploded, the troops without a casualty wiping the group inside out. We all converged on a corner, looking for the next target. Another group of soldiers approached, obviously with the same idea as we just had. They stopped and hailed our group.

“Who’s in charge?”

“I am!” replied Scorpion.

“You’re the… Jedi?”

“Yes. Is there an issue?”

“No sir! The new High Command just put out a order to provide all assistance to you. Captain Spammer sir!”

The comm. Crackled again “All in area of ASAT-4, there is Yevysss loyalists digging in! Large number, provide assistance!” The air was beginning to be filled with blaster fire and explosions and some areas there could be flame seen. Another message came in. “Troops to …. Oh… FRELL!! Warships coming in!"

I decided that it was time I left. I moved to Ramjet

"I would leave now Major. It would not be appropriate for me to be around when the Republic turns up. I have my enemies"

The Major looked at me, then nodded. "Understood. Thank you for your help m'Lord"

I nodded and not one for ceremony, I slipped away as quietly as I could. I decided it would be best to get clear of the fighters, so I dropped into some of the darker streets and ran, always moving away from the sounds of war. For some minutes I kept moving until I arrived at a quiet street. It was deseted and I slowed to a walk. Much to think about tonight.... I decided I wanted to be somewhere where I could think.

I continued to talk and came across a shiny object, resting in the street. It had a sodden piece of cloth on it, tied in a bow. And a wet piece of paper, wtih a scribble on it. Ignoring the paper, I picked up the gun.

I was impressed. This was an incredible weapon. Who would leave it here? I looked about and claimed the rifle. I had to wonder who owned it. I now picked up the paper and walked off, allowing the night to swaloow me into it.

[A Nameless New Republic Tech]

In the war room, the scanner operators were still numb with shock. 4 Interdictors had come out of Hyperspace, then a minute later, wave upon wave of small to very large craft. Then… two utterly enormous sensor blips. The operator thought his plate was in error, but his college confirmed.

“SIR! You have to look at this!”

The officer in charge came over, nearly peeing himself. By the fires of Calan… what the frell are those things?!?!”

The scanner operator was white. “I hope that’s the fleet that General said was coming. Else we are sooooo frelled”

--

The smaller ships scattered out of the way of the two lumbering weapons of war as they split off, to cut off escape. The SSD Sabretooth dwarfed by her enormous companions, arrived last to complete the bottle. Smaller NRSF ships that could move faster, Missile boats and Nebulon-G’s spread out. Their job wasn’t to engage, just make sure no one tried to run from the Defender and Argus 1. A signal went out no the general comm channel.

“NR defectors, I am under strict orders here. If you do not surrender to our fleet, you will be shot down. This is a non-negotiable deal."

The gauntlet was thrown down. On the Defender, Drecker ordered for all guns to charge. “Fire control, tell me when main target acquired. I want a cripple not a kill. Repeat, no kill. There may be loyal crewers on board. Can you do that?”

“Yes M’am! We need 10 degree to port course change!”

“Flight control, 10 degrees to port!”

The massive ship rumbled as huge engines began to adjust

“Coming around…. Hold!”

“On hold Captain!”

“Target! Awaiting orders Captain!”

Drecker nodded. “Code clearance Echo, Tween, Ackard, Fore.”

“Acknowledged! Unlocked and ready for final code clearance!”

Zara Drecker nodded. Right in front was the Super Star Destroyer of the defectors. The whole bridge seemed to pause…

“Sensors read main guns charging on the SSD and they have bought shields on!”

“How long till charge completed for us?” yelled Drecker

“Two minutes!”

“Prepare Defender for firing! Shields engage!”

“Shield control online Captain!”

“Control online! Waiting for final command sequence!”

Drecker paused. Tohmahawk had taken a big chance putting her in charge of his flagship. She hoped what was her first battle as the Captain of Defender would do the man’s faith in her justice. “Final sequence….. in … one minute!”

[DarthHERA]

He thought he caught a movement at the southwest corner of his assignment grid. More of a shadow than movement he ammended. probably another grasping pilferer Just another lowlife scumbag taking advantage of the unrest that was steadily building in the quadrant about them. damn how he hated sentry duty. No fighting, no action, no chance to stand out and be noticed for commendation. And here...in the armpit of the universe minding some backend cargo with third rate freighters loaded with fourth rate goods..Flicking his cigarette out into the street - sending a red glowing arc into the darkness, and a subtle "hiss" as it sizzled in the rain - the soldier unslouched himself from against the durasteel support strutt of the Spaceport cargo terminal and brought his nightvision feild glasses to his eyes.

<font color= green>0...Illumination times 3...0 </font>newstaped across the lenses.

Scanning the southwest corner which was now as bright, though tinted green, as the spaceport floodlighting perimeter thanks to the imperial issue glasses, all was clear. Of course there were no civilians in this backpart of the port - the curfew had shut the joint down much earlier, and even with the gas scare, the troops had been ruthless in locking down any attempt for the port to be overrun. He had heard over his handheld communicator that the Arcan Locals had been gunned down over at the East Terminal..men women children..didnt matter..as they desperately tried to evacuate. He and his detail had been instructed to do the same.

His detail! That was it !- where were they all?

He swung round to sight his partner stationed on the opposite side of the street as he simultaneously brought his wrist up to his mouth to sound the alert into his comm.

**********

He saw her before his body registered that she had snatched his upraised arm in a vice-like grip, twisting it and snapping his radius with a crack. Her eyes, nose..all HUGE and tinted greenish as he looked at her through the feildvisions...funny the details one notices in the space of milliseconds. He dropped the glasses as he reached instinctively for his blaster...who did this bi*ch think she was? The thought died with him as Hera did a four fingered strike to his trachea. With strength garnered from the force the impact of the hit was a deathstroke. His windpipe swelled immediately blocking off all air to his lungs and he sank to his knees, his eyes registered incomprehension even as he fell forward to splash face first into the pavement.

************

It had taken her 6 tries before she came across a trooper that was even remotely her height and build. Killing them in a variety of stealthly and efficient fashions: 2 crimson ear to ear grins with her dagger, 1 knife (same as before) inserted between rib and sternum driven directly to the heart, 1 garrotting with a nylon cord, 1 nose cartlidge smashed up shooting direct into the brain and the trachea hit.

It was lucky the gas-assault had been disarmed somehow - she would, along with the rest of the Arcan natives, be twitching and gasping on the ground, feeling her eyes burn and disolve in their sockets, the flesh on her body peeling off in layers from the insideous gas weapon.
She had lost sight of the two stranges back in the madness
of the fleeing locals and vaguely wondered if they had made it out or not.

She pulled on the shirt, pants and jacket, wiping down the latter with her cloak hood to sponge off the rain. The man looked so exposed as he lay there, his boots tossed haphazardly beside him and his arm twisted in an awkward angle, the rain falling ignorantly on his lifeless form. She took..(squinting at the name stitched on the shirt).. Private L.T.Jones' ..communicator and hooked it to her sleeve. Pulling the cap down to cover her eyes as much as she could. An open line to the communications would come in handy. Hera picked up the blaster rifle, and jogged off toward the East Terminal - and her ride outta this dump.

[Marcus QDunn]

What he wouldn’t give for a sleep right now. Even a Jedi got tired and right now, Q’Dunn was running right on the limits of any being’s endurance. He was taking what he could get from anywhere to keep going and even that was becoming harder and harder. Mentally he was shot. Physically, he should have fallen under the influence of pain long ago. But somehow, he kept moving, one step at a time. Now was not the time he could stop, not yet. Another few hours and he could rest and seek medical attention, Force knows he needed it. But for now, he had to keep going to help the Arcan locals achieve genuine freedom. How the frell had this place ever gotten this bad? How had someone like Vevyss ever gotten into power? Surely the New Republic would have done something earlier, than at this time when their hand was forced?

And to be honest, even then it was unlikely that the Republic would have done anything. Q’Dunn knew the Republic and the Jedi were going to hell in a handbasket. It had been one of the things that had been driving him to despair.

And giving me a death wish. I was beginning to see no hope

No, there was hope. While men who wanted freedom like Q’Dunn existed, there would be someone willing to stand up to tyranny. There really was only one course of action open now and that was to draw the line and make a stand. The Republic should never of allowed such a criminal despot. He knew that there would be hell to pay in the Senate for what had happened here, it was unlawful, there had been no vote of action.

But it was the right thing to do. You couldn’t deny giving a people it’s freedom from the scum of the Galaxy. He knew that if the NRSF was not independent of the Senate, such freedom fighting as what was now about to happen could never occur, not without commissions of enquiry, arguments, votes. Yet again, he swore it would remain out of the foul touches of the politicians and their assorted beauracrats. Who know if he could manage that, but he would forever fight to try.

As a General or as a Jedi. Whatever it took from now on.

At his side, the trooper with the comm unit was filling in on what was going on.

“Seems to be a big firefight developing at No 4 barracks and again near where that Jedi was first spotted. Various groups are reporting that the Vevyss holdouts are putting up a fight, the gangsters are too. And there’s a big flap about warships dropping out of hyperspace..”

Q’Dunn glanced up in the dark sky before asking for the comm link. The trooper complied, with the Jedi dialing up the required frequency and speaking.

“Drecker? Tohmahawk. Your early”

A pause, then a woman’s voice came over loud and clear. “General? We seem to be picking up reports there is fighting on the ground and…”

“Yes there is Captain. What have you got up there?”

“Our defectors. They are also wanting a fight”

“Fine. Deal with it as you will. I want 1st Division down here as in last week”

“Readied to go before we jumped General. Any specific place to land?”

“Contact the High command on down here and ask them. Can you get them down safely?”

“Yes General, Destroyers with the drop ships are being ordered out of the main fight up here now. We’ll get them to ground without casualties”

“Good. Happy hunting Captain”

“You too General”. Q’Dunn clicked off and handed the comm unit back.

“All right…. Oh @#%$!”

Around the corner appeared a ragged bunch of fighters, some in civilian dress, some in military… but all firing back at a group of soldiers who were more than likely what he now called Arcan IV loyalists. The first group was falling back right back in the Jedi’s direction… he didn’t look at the trooper beside him, he just simply told him what to do.

“Run. Don’t look back”. The trooper complied, leaving Q’Dunn alone, in the middle of the street. His hand flicked out, at it’s end was his sabre which he turned on. The blade whooshed out, then began it’s familiar colour strobing. “HALT! AND SURRENDER!”

The first group turned at the bellow. Some threw down weapons. Others trained their weapons and opened fire. The blade leaped into action, dancing and blocking blaster shots, some into the street, the air, the walls and even straight back at the shooters. Q’Dunn drew in the Force and once again jumped into the fray, light sabre darting and slashing. Caught between the Jedi and the loyalists, the scum didn’t stand a chance. Those who didn’t lay down their guns were cut down.

He moved on with the troops in tow… another street battle… and another…..

The dawn began to break on what would be both the proudest and the saddest day of Arcan IV’s history. Proud, for the people of Arcan IV won their freedom from the criminals and the oppressors. Saddest as it was done at a tragic human loss. Men, some hardly old enough to shave, shot down. Others with families, died protecting those same. Innocents sucked into the web of deceptions of Vevyss, not so innocents who knew full well what was benign gotten into when they swore to Vevyss’ cause. The fire and stench of death, smoke and acrid smells of war greeted the dawn. A haze, not the usual fog, covered the cities of the planet. In other places, New Republic drop ships screamed down to the planet, disgorging crack NRSF battalions to join on the side of the loyalists. Armed with shields and rail guns, well trained and without mercy the result was beyond doubt even before the sun came up.

In one place, a mother cried for the son who had been shot by a stray round

In another an old man wept over his wife, killed as a wall collapsed.

It would be a night no one would forget

[Nathan W3st]

Bad elevator music came through the intercom system of a decently sized grocerie store. Arden hummed along until Shorty shot an elbow into his ribs.

Olaf spoke up. "We need about eight bottles of lye, nine rolls of aluminum foil, vinegar, 26 liters of water, 15 liters of orange juice, and 15 pears."

"Pears and orange juice?" West inquired.

"We've been trudging around in the sewers for hours, and figured everyone would apreciate some cold drinks and fruit. I like orange juice."

"Alright, get the supplies, and lets go."

They were just to the checkout lane when Tohmahawk raised the radio.

"Situation has changed. Find friendlys and give assistance."

"Roger that." West finished as they entered the otherwise empty checkout lanes.

"Whatcha doing with all this stuff." The casheir was obviously unfazed by weapons. Not really all that surprising considering the area she was in.

"Making explosives." Olaf stated simply.

"Ah. Ok." She said as she rang the items up. "With pears?"

"To eat."

"Ah. Ok." Olaf picked one up and bit into it for emphasis, chewing thoughtfully.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

His fingers wrapped tightly around the lightsaber, holding the energetic blue blade at an arc towards the ground. In his right hand was the Railgun, twenty rounds per clip, with more on his vest. He bent his arm so his wrist was at his shoulder, pointing the muzzle straight up. A six inch bayonet knife was sheathed in a strap on his left shoulder, while the Minigun still hung on his back, folded up.

Scorpion turned to face the roughly eighty armed men. Some had no real combat experience before today, save for small skermishes with petty thugs. He could point out the seasoned veterans, but that wasn't hard, considering they stuck out like rancors at a bantha ranch. Luckily they weren't overlooked for some young poodoo who was just a inept thinking they were invincible. He'd seen too many of them get put in the wrong spots, while the veterans were the ones keeping the rookies alive.

This wasn't really a war. Not technically. You could call it a war. You could call it a battle. You could call it a conflict. It wasn't any though. This was a revolution. A hunt.

"Alright troops, lock 'n' load!"

He turned and stepped into the middle of the street, waving his lightsaber as a lit guide.

"I want heavy weapons behind me, single file! This means grenade launchers, rocket launchers, heavy rifles and whatever the hell else you got! I want long range across the back. I need fifteen other soldiers to cover those two groups! Rest of you split up! Half of you on the right and the other half on the left! Eyes sharp and knives sharper! You shoot anything that smells like a politician! DO YOU GET ME!?!"

"Sir, yes Sir!"

===

High Command had handed over the suspected whereabouts of some Yveyss' cronies. Everything was quiet during the journey down the streets. Noone made a peep as they neared one of the closest hideouts, a simple three level house. The rundown structure was built seperate of the newer ones, with an alley encircling it on both sides and the rear. From the distance, about an eighty meter block down, Scorpion guessed it was about fourteen meters wide by the street, and from what he could see of the roof he guessed it was roughly between eight or nine meters front to back.

In all, the eighty man force he had with him had been split into five groups. The twenty-five soldiers on the right were now First Squad. The twenty-five on the left were Second Squad. The ten heavily armed troops in the center were Third Squad. Five men with long range rifles lined up in the rear, designated Fourth Squad. The fifteen assigned to cover Third and Fourth were, in all obviousness, given the callsign: Fifth Squad.

Scorpion turned to the young man behind him, crouched halfway with his gun pinned against his chestplate.

"You, get up here. What's your name?"

The junior troop made a kind of smirkish grin, "Mahoy."

"Mahoy eh? Give me your macs, Mahoy."

The troop fished out his macrobinoculars and handed them over, then walked back a few steps. Scorpion placed them over his eyes and zoomed in at the building. Normally he would have simply used the adjustable sight on his cybernetic eye, but after he escaped the Crouching Tiger Inn it didn't respond too well in some areas.

He scanned the main floor windows and saw nothing, then raised his gaze and zoomed in closer. There, on the second story window farthest away. A man sat facing away. He zoomed in more. Last thing he needed was the wrong target. The man's clothes were shabby. Nothing unusual. Hair, greasy. Still, not out of place here. Then he raised an E-11 rifle and slid a power pack into it. Civilians didn't carry around E-11s. Not law abiding ones anyway.

Scorpion whispered into his comlink, which he had clipped to his vest. First Squad lengthened out and silently ran down their side of the street, where the hideout was located. All of them stopped at the last structure before the criminals', pinning their backs to the outside wall. Fourth Squad ran to the opposite building across the street and prepared their weapons. Third Squad stayed with Fifth for cover, and swiftly armed and assessed in the middle of the street. Second Squad ran past and down the alley behind the targeted building to block and pincer. Scorpion went over with First Squad and kneeled down, creeping slowly to the corner of the rundown structure.

He switched off, then ignited his saber again as the signal, and two Third Squad troops launched a pair of concussion grenades into the door. Right on cue, First Squad charged into the building with him and spread out. Fourth was picking off what they could see from their positions, while Third Squad shot a rocket powered grenades into an open top floor window.

The fighting was intense, even if numbers were on their side. Rumbling from firepower upstairs was distracting, and bits of the ceiling caved. A man stood up from a chair with a cigar in his mouth and fired a Bryar pistol. Scorpion made a quick arc to the right and down with his blade, deflecting into another man's neck. He bent his wrist and fired the Railgun at his hip, blowing the top half of the first man off. The alien hybrid stuck out like a sore thumb among the array of humans.

Scorpion noted the efficient and quick entry of Second Squad, who mixed with First Squad and cleared the main floor. They waited for the explosive rumblings to stop above them, followed by a note from Third Squad that they couldn't spy anymore of Yveyss' henchmen. A similar message came from Fourth.

He decided to run a check and picked out four men to go with him. They walked up the dirty permacrete stairs in the entrance hallway to the second floor. Scorpion sniffed at the smell of blood and blaster fire, concentrating on the Force powers he had. Two on this floor. Another on the third. He looked back at the four troops and waved two fingers at a room to his right. Watching as the troopers sidestepped by him, he started up the next flight of stairs to the top floor.

He could sense the presence of the last crook, and felt him moving about. Scorpion tiptoed along the floor, then changed modes and slammed his foot against a door. It busted open and fell back, dust and dirt poofing up around it. Static filled his ears and then a click.

"Sir, threat neutralized."

Scorpion gave a grunt of acknowledgement, "Go back to the street and regroup."

He returned his attention to the empty room, then looked up at a rusty ladder hung halfway up the wall. A service panel on the ceiling must have led to the rooftop. Shutting off his lightsaber, he jumped up and climbed the short distance, carefully nudging the panel up a crack.

Scorpion heard the clapping of footsteps and peered up over the edge in time to see a figure duck behind a durasteel box attached to the roof. He pushed the panel aside and lifted his knee over and pulled himself up, standing with his Railgun held straight out in front of him. His index finger squeezed hard on the trigger, exploding forth a triple round dose of bullets. They tore through the box like it was a flimsy of paper. He didn't even hear a scream. All he saw was a splatter of blood splash out both ways from behind the box.

He clipped his lightsaber onto the left his belt, along with his Railgun at the right, walking over to and around the box. He noted the gun in what appeared to be a hand and looked at the still smouldering hole in the durasteel attachment. A small flicker of flame was around the edges, and he listened closely. There was a hissing noise. He took a step back at realization. Old, rundown building. Old heating system. Old method of heating system. He spun and took off to the other end of the rooftop, away from the service panel, and jumped with the Force over the gaping alleyway. The box exploded and a mushroom cloud of fire enveloped the top of the building, bellowing out to the sides.

Scorpion was propelled through the air before he even landed. The searing heat burned at his skin, and already open wounds. He dropped down onto the other building, skidding the distance across on his side, then rolling onto his back as he slowed, his half his body hanging over the edge.

Groaning from the intense pain he struggled to pull his frame onto the roof a safe distance. His vision was blurred in his real eye. It wavered and he blinked. Still not perfect. He blinked again and it was clearer. Enough to see the firey roof in the distance. The troops were in the street and away from the blast. That was all that concerned him. Actually, something else concerned him. The fact that he really, really hurt. He still had his limbs and organs. That was a plus. Somewhat.

Bacta don't fail me now.

Rolling onto his good shoulder -- that is, to say, the shoulder that was in better condition than the other one -- he looked over the edge. Pain coursed through him and all went black.

===

Then it all came back. From his biological clock he guessed he was out for about ten minutes. That, and well, his chronometer said so. Then he had a weird idea. He wasn't sure where it came from. Maybe it was a concussion. Maybe it was brain damage. Maybe it was that weird tingling feeling in his upper right leg. Whatever it was, it told him he should go for a walk.

He paid some attention to what he was about to look at before. The side of the building he had landed on. There was a crisscrossing grate stairway leading from about three meters down to the ground below. Sitting up and feeling another shot of pain, he gritted his teeth and dropped himself over the edge. Then he hit, and in that nanosecond he figured it was the stupidest thing he had ever done.

His legs felt like they had been forcefully doublejointed, then driven up past his hips into his stomach. That didn't last long, however, because as he came down, he fell over onto his broken rib and burn wounds. A few alien curses escaped his lips, followed by "Krasst! Frell! Frellin' son of a bitch! Krasst!"

Scorpion yelled out in pain and sat up abruptly, slamming his fist onto the railing. Luckily, pain was no longer a novelty, and he only ended up with a fist shaped dent in the metal bar.

Eventually he stood, regretted it, leaned back against the railing, then stood again. Limping his way down the steps, he patted to see if he still had his weapons. He felt the Railgun at his hip, but his lightsaber was not there! Looking up at the ledge of the roof he swore, then as his gaze lowered he saw it laying intact on the next set of stairs.

When he got there, he slowly knelt and attached it to his belt once more, then finished his walk down the stairs and out of the dank alley. In line with the alley was a street. He began to walk down it with his limp, with the feeling he'd been here before.

[DarthHERA]

The East Terminal was literally crawling with Soldiers.
It seemed like the whole floor was alive and moving of its own accord. Men were calling back and forth to each other. Giving directives, implementing orders from superiors. Here and there a skirmish broke out as a few ardent locals still tried to make their escape from the planet, only to be gunned down from troopers with amazingly accurate placed shots. (Target practice must finally be paying off).

The communication traffic from Hera's hand-held was constant. The picture of what was going down here on Arcan IV was much bigger than she had realised.

A large NR fleet had just been reported coming out of hyperspace and their accompanying fighters were in attack formations. Taking the Paylode out in that lot was begging for a fast trip to oblivion.

Hera had thought, according to the curfew information, that the NR had already attacked the planet..this obviously was not the case. And though it wasnt openly declared, the planets Govenor Yveyss was no longer in power. She was debating what her next move would be - hazard running that NR Fleet or take her chances down in this lot with the Imperials - when opportunity presented itself.

Hera was sifting through her mind all the information, trying to make heads and tails of it, as she ambled further into the docking area, doing her best "just another dumb grunt" impersonation.

<font color=brown>

"You! Private, just what do you think you are doing?"

</font>

Hera looked over to see about 10 feet away from her, a large barrel-chested Sargent who was scowling black thunder clouds all over his beefy face. He was typical of a bull-headed military man. Bulging biceps, neck as thick as a tree, hair cropped so short it looked like a 5 o'clock shadow on his bumpy orbitous head, eyes that were a little too close together..

Hera raised a hand to her ear in a gesture she couldnt quite make out what he was saying and formed the "could I be more stupid?" look on her face, keeping her cap pushed as low as possible.

<font color=brown>


"Dont just stand there you moron - get your useless hide over to Quanta detail. We need more troops to the city core . You hear me, you imbecile? Move it, move it MOVE IT!"

</font>

Hera jumped to and ran to join the line of soldiers jogging out of the SpacePort towards the core of the city, flipping a sort of salute to ol' beefcake as she did so. Keeping care to lag just a little behind the group, she fell into step with the rythmic "one, two" jog of the Quanta detail.

The Sargent watched after her for a moment thinking to himself that they gotta stop allowing idiots into this outfit, and turned back to the 50 other pressing tasks he still had yet to do.

[Marcus QDunn]

Dawn.

The rays of the sun came through clouds of smoke and mist, making a murky and shadow clad twilight. Figures could be seen moving through the murk but never long. Occasionally came the distant sound of blaster fire, occasionally a scream. A speeder or two could be heard.

But more than anything, the thing that was heard was complete and utter silence. No one was moving outside, no wild animals roamed. Just the smoke and mist.

From out of the gloom, a lone figure came, slowly, laboriously. Stumbling would have been a better description for what this figure was doing for it was incapable of a proper walk anymore. One leg dragged. It was clear that the only reason the figure was moving was pure willpower and nothing else. Some of his features became clearer. A male. Dark, untidy hair, filthy face encrusted by sweat. There was blood splatters on his face and on his clothes, the back of his hands were blackened and bleeding once again. His dark clothing bore the marks of a violent night, torn in places. In one of his hands, a lightsabre was still held, though it was debateable how long he was capable of holding it. He was wearing a headset that gave reports of the battle, a headset he had gotten off one of his soldiers after they had found him, fighting with all the fury of a storm.

The Jedi Master, rank Warlord, Marcus Q’Dunn, known to the Galaxy and Major General James Tiberius Tohmahawk slowly reached up and took off the headset. There was no need for it now. The battle was just about over and there was nothing left but to mop up. More NRSF troops were making the surface of the planet but the Arcan IV loyalists had done most of the job of ridding the planet of the criminals and Vevyss butt kissers. The NRSF had hit the toughest holdouts, then began helping their new allies in cleanup. There were some pocket of resistance and some had escaped, but by the time this day was over, the populace would be free.

Free…. But for what?

He didn’t know. Q’Dunn saw days ahead with discussions, reparations, clean up, credits being spent…. He could only make them an offer the locals would be crazy to refuse. Call it a payback for the NR ignoring their plight. Call it Altruism. Whatever. Safety, jobs, food. It was the coin he would use, one that could make Arcan IV a place to be proud of. And one very, very interesting idea that he was sure the locals would be initially sceptical of, but would work out brilliantly.

The headset fell out of his fingers. He stumbled a bit further , where a burnt out speeder was. There was huge craters and the building around here had sustained heavy bombardment. He didn’t notice. His mind was just struggling to stay even a tiny bit awake and just didn’t comprehend where he was.

That was it. He had given all he could, he had battled his injuries …. And now, just by the speeder and just near a crater he stopped. The sabre dropped from his hands. He stood there, swaying for a moment, before gravity caught up with him. The Jedi just simply fell over, face first. He was hardly conscious anymore, but still, he was. Somehow. He had demanded more of his body than anyone had a right to and now, simply, it had given up. He didn’t realise he had fallen in basically the same place where that turbolaser had hit, where he had, by reflex, protected himself by the Force.

Where he had lived instead of died. Only a Jedi could have survived.

And now… now the battle was over. The cycle was cast aside. There was no one left to fight, at least not here. He had defeated Tondry, he had helped defeat the forces of Vevyss… and more than that, he had defeated himself, come through the battle to be something more. Much more.

How much more was for the future. For now, he could hardly do more than breathe. He really hoped the medics found him soon, cause the Force knew he needed some medical attention.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya skidded to a halt a block away from the devestation that was the Crouching Tiger Inn just as dawn peeked over the rooftops of the dingy skyscrapers. She threw the door open and half fell, half jumped out of the land vehicle, skidding in some mud. Can't seem to get away from it these days. The roads were impassable, thanks to the barrage from the sky the day before, so she was going to have to walk in.

She started off at a stumbling jog, and darted among the lengthy shadows that were forming as the sun came up. The crumbling Inn was still smoldering from the fire as Arya approached it. The woman climbed over the burned out wreck of a speeder, and felt her heart fall to her toes. It looked worse that she remembered. The lobby was blown to smithereens. Arya couldn't remember if she had dropped her payment in the dining hall or...

One way to frelling find out, sister. She only hoped that the whole building didn't give way and fall on her head.

Although it would be in keeping with the way this whole trip had gone. Arya ducked into the gaping hole that was once a front door, and began to sift through the wreakage. It was worse than trying to find a needle in a haystack. It was like trying to find one paticular flea on a bantha's behind.

Arya scrambled into the dining area, thankful that the bodies hadn't started smelling yet. It was bad enough to have to crawl over them. The huge mirrored wall was shattered and the bar was...well, gone. The whole wall had collapsed, crushing and compressing everything in its way, including the table she had sat at the night before. She got on her hands and knees, scrabbling through the debris on the ground, and cursing as she cut her finger on a piece of mirror.

She picked it up and looked at herself. Her hair was matted to her head with drying mud, and her face was a black greasy mess. Arya's clothes were a collage of blood, mud, and gods knew what else. In frustration she threw the glass against the one standing wall, where it shattered impressively.

If she couldn't find the credits, then she couldn't pay off her debt. If she couldn't pay off her debt, then she would probably be very very dead in a few weeks.

Arya rocked back on her heels and noticed a broken water pipe jutting from the wreakage. She carefully made her way towards it, and let the trickling water pool in her hands before splashing it in her hair. Wiping at her face with the edge of her shirt she got the majority of the grease off, although she was still a dirty mess.

Frell. She wasn't going to be able to find anything here. Arya got tiredly to her feet. Frell! Turbogeek! Where the krasst was he? She carefully made her way to the nearest hole in the wall, and dragged her aching body over the rubble and back into the early morning half-light. She could see the speeder wreck she had climbed over half an hour previously.

It looked different now. She peered into the lifting gloom, and saw the difference. There was a man leaning on it. As she watched, the figure took two steps, and then fell on his face.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

It was very cold despite the scent of burning buildings, streets, vehicles. And most of all, flesh.

He knew what street he was on now. The one he was brought to first. Turning his head he could see the Crouching Tiger Inn in the distance, still smouldering and crumbling.

His vision was a bit blurred in his real eye, but on occasion as he stepped it would clear for the moment. His robotic eye however was omitting static, nothing more. He didn't know what systems would work and what wouldn't.

Scorpion lost his footing when he came to one of the decimated barricades. He held out his arms and braced himself before pushing up back into a straight position.

He lifted his gaze to a busted, burnt out speeder. His sight eventually corrected itself. A body lay near. It looked dead. Scorpion's current state of thought dismissed it as one of the many from earlier. A subconscious hindsight told him to go over there though.

His shaky steps brought him to the body, the man, beside the vehicle. If his eyes were in enough shape to open wide they would've.

"Marcus!"

[Marcus QDunn]

It was as if he was listening in a long dark tunnel. There was an echo of sound and not much more. All he wanted to do now was just lie there.

“…marcus?”

Could have sworn someone just said his name.

“….marcus!”

…?

“Marcus!”

The voice was familiar too. Dimly he felt himself being shaken.

“Faarrccckkkkinnnggggg p-i-i-i-s—s-s- o-r-rf”

“Are you allright?”

What a stupid question. Was he lying here trying to get a tan? A few minutes passed with no further sound, then there was a footstep. Something ripped. A jab in his arm that he barely felt. He felt heat go through his body. And even fel t good enough a few minutes later to raise his head slowly up and blink…

“What the hell was that stuff?”

“Stimjuice. Want another hit?”

“Blarg. Did anyone get the plate of the speeder that hit me?”

Another sting in the arm and more warmth flooded his veins. A few more minutes passed and he heard someone scuff the ground and sigh. A small thump.

“Aren’t we a sight, Marcus?”

“Sight for what? Scaring children? That better be you Jyanis”

“No, it’s the fairy godjedi”

It was Jyanis, he could identify the voice now. “Ahh shut up. I’ve had a hard day”

A pause. “So, what now?”

“Well, give me a hand to sit up at least. I don’t want to be talking to the ground”. More shuffling and he felt himself being dragged into a seated position, back against something. He opened his eyes, taking in the area. A small turn of the head and he could see Jyanis, also seated with his back against what appeared to be a speeder wreck. “Mate, you look like I feel. What the hell happed to you?”

“Well she was blonde and had big….oh not in the mood?” he said, seeing the rather poisonous expression on Q’Dunn’s face. “Probably the same as you. What happened to your face?”

“Bad?”

“Black and puffed up on one side. What hit you?”

“I got panned”

“You… what?”

“I got panned. You know, frying pan?”

Scorpion snorted, then grunted in pain. “Poetic justice”. They sat in silence for a few minutes. “So… I saw you on the holoview”

“Yeah? What doing?”

“Declaring you’re a Jedi Master. I thought you said you never wanted to have a bar of that again”

“Didn’t really have a lot of choice mate. First thing we do is bury that and turn it into an unfounded rumour. I don’t feel like letting every man and his nerf finding out”

“But…”

“Don’t worry, I’m not turning my back on being a Jedi again. I’ld just prefer if no one else knew. Why, you looking for a decent Master?”

“Well… no….”

“Good, cause I was about to say go find someone else if you want someone decent. I’m frelling awesome. Free beer and as much Sith to beat up as you want. Sound good? Well there’s more…”

“Where do I sign up?”

“You just did” Q’Dunn paused to catch his breath and allow a pain spasm to drift way. Some thing caught his eye “Hey… what’ that bottle down there? Can you get it?” Scorpion didn’t move, but the bottle jiggled, then flew through the air to hand neatly in Scorpion’s hand. The Jedi Master shook his head. “Poser”

Jyanis grabbed the cork in his teeth and pulled it out. “I thought that’s what you Jedi did first – tell us learners to pick up rocks and other useless @#%$. Well, how about something we can appreciate?”

Both of them grinned at each other and burst out laughing.

[Arya Ravenwing]

Arya swayed a little as she gained her feet, and saw that a second figure had joined the first, and was now helping it to its feet. As the day dawned brighter, she could make out who it was.

She walked up, although it took some time, as there were craters and chunks of 'crete littering the road. It was Hunter's partner...what was his name? Well, the NR lackey. The beginning of the night was mostly a blur in her memory anyway. It was the Chiss and another man who she didn't recognize.

Arya stumbled, and regained her feet. Where the synflesh was still stuck on her, the skin itched fiercely. She flaked off another dirty patch of it, and walked around the body of a soldier. And then she looked at the ground again. The body was clutching a small black bag, now dusty and crusted with blood. She bent down and yanked it out of the dead man's hand. "That's mine, you thieving bastard." Arya hissed her words to the dead, and then opened her bag and dropped the credits within.

She walked up grinning to the pair by the speeder. They were sharing a bottle and a joke, by the looks of it. And the alchohol was looking mighty good.

[Captain Tohmahawk]

The flames of a burning building spread their smoke over the road where they both sat sat. The place was bombed out and unrecognisable from the day before, before the hell had been unleashed on this place. Pieces of stone, wood and much worse littered the area, as well as the hazily seen person moving about, all of them heavily armed if you could make out details. Daylight was now fully upon then and it was much easier to see through the murk that shrouded the city. Beside him, Jyanis just unstoppered a bottle and they were both sharing a joke at what was for him one of the more remarkable days of his life. Probably remarkable for quite a few people actually. He accepted the bottle from Scorpion when he sensed a new person walk close. He looked up, seeing it was female. Bedraggled and filthy, she looked terrible, but there was a big grin on her face.

“Why look, here’s the mysterious woman again. You look like much different from the last time I saw you” said Scorpion. The Chiss and him exchanged a look.

“Yeah, she looks like @#%$!”

“Still looks better than you!”. Both men burst out laughing again.

She pouted. “Well, I’m glad were sharing such a great joke… Hey, what are you doing with that? That’s prime RuskyVodk’a!”

He began to pour the alcohol over his hand, sucking in his breath as the pain exploded up his arm. “It also stops infection as well as killing brain cells”

“Hang on …” She set down a backpack, rummaged through it until she found what she wanted – a med pack. She took out a cream and looked over the back of his hands

“They look like you were fighting a grinder. Did you win?”

He didn’t reply to that, instead choosing only to smile. A smile that was probably the first genuine one in two years. “You did well out there today. What did you say your name was again?”

She looked puzzled and he could clearly she the question on her mind Who are you? “Arya… Arya Ravenwing. And you?”

”Marcus Q’Dunn, Jedi Master m’lady… yeow! Careful!” He winced as she began to apply the cream. Jyanis looked expectant.

“Sorry, never heard of you before. Should I have?” she replied. “Your blue friend was with a bounty hunter I was here to see earlier, but I ain’t seen you before”

His grin got bigger, as Jyanis and him exchanged amused glances “How about you tell her”

“Tell me what?”

”You know that Bounty Hunter we were with when we shot our way out of here?” he asked

“Yeeesss…. Force Master Hunter. Where is he anyway? Did he get out?”

“Ooo…. I suppose you can say that. Told you the face job didn’t do anything for you Hunter, she doesn’t recognise you”

She stopped tending to Q’Dunn’s hands. “Your…Hunter… a Jedi Master? But…. “ Her eyes opened in surprise and realisation. ”Frell, I should have known!” She laughed, a surprisingly girlish giggle. “It’s obvious if you think about it, your too good to be just another bounty hunter. How come you…?” She didn’t finish the sentence, just trailed off as she sat on her heels, a look of curiousity on her face.

“Lots of reasons. I don’t know if I can tell you all of them now, but maybe one day when you have a year spare. So, how does it feel to be employed by a Jedi instead of a Bounty Hunter?”

“Extra 5000 and I stay silent. Deal?” She said that with a smile. Q’Dunn had to think the smile improved her looks no end and she was definantly very pretty to begin with.

“Sure. In advance?”

She stared at him. “I was joking”

“I’m not. 5000 in advance?”

“You don’t have to do that…. Really” She seemed to be in a headspin. How different from the touch bit*h she had exhibited the times Q’Dunn had met her before.

“Medical costs we’ll call it” He lifted his hands slightly.

“Oh… sorry” She finished putting the ointment on his hands, before producing a set of bandages. “Don’t mind if you lose use of your fingers?”

“Nah, go ahead. Frelling wonder I can talk, let alone do anything. Hey, stop guzzling that bottle Jyanis! Give the lady some too!”

“Oh come on Jame…. I mean Marcus… aw @#%$ man, how am I supposed to remember who the frell you are? You bloody keep changing it on me!” ribbed Scorpion. Q’Dunn raised his eyes skyward.

“How do you think I feel? Well, going to give the lady a drink?” Jyanis took another swig, belched and handed the bottle to Ravenwing, who stopped for a momemt putting the bandages on Q’Dunn’s hands and took a rather impressive hit. She down the rest of the bottle, before flinging it over her shoulder.

As she finished giving the Jedi first aid, they sat and talked. Her, Jyanis and the Jedi Master. They found another bottle. It was an hour and Q’Dunn was feeling the effects of the pick me up wearing off, before a squad of NRSF troops appeared. Seeing their Commander injured, someone commed for medics. He was not in any real position to argue when the turned up. He would have rather preferred they dealt with any other wounded first. Q’Dunn was laid out on a stretcher, with his bandaged hands on his chest. Scorpion was likewise receiving treatment. Ravenwing turned to leave.

“Arya”. He couldn’t lift his head. God, he was sooooo tired

“Yes?”

“Come see me at Yavin if you need anything. And goodluck”

She smiled over him, patted his shoulder. “Keep paying me Hunter. Be seeing you”. She turned and walked away. A trooper came up with a datapad for Scorpion, who exclaimed.

“Hey James! The defectors…”

“Sorry Jyanis not now……” His body gave up the fight to stay aware and he fell unconscious

He was safe at last

[Pierce Tondry]

A Delta Division transport of Imperial Intelligence, a medium-sized Penetrator class ship called Flashburn was waiting in a field outside Arcan IV.

The Tau Team member Torch was its' usual pilot- hence the fire reference in its' name. But Torch was not currently at the helm.

Inside one of four passenger cabins, Pierce Tondry sat surrounded by his commando troops. They were all silent.

This was an abrupt reversal of the usual procedure. Whenever an operation had been conducted, regardless of success or failure, there was talk and fellowship. If the op had gone off particularly well, there was sometimes a party.

Today, however, Delta Division had not only lost the battle, but had been hit personally by it. Their commander, a man they all respected for various reasons, had lost something precious and important to him for the second time. Though any good military commander was typically looked up to by the troops under his command, the more eloquent among Delta Division would say that Pierce was "special."

Because of that, the silence was a silence of shared loss.

Pierce Tondry had sometimes previously told people about his rifle. It had been given to him as the perfect sniping weapon by his comrades back in the Imperial Army following a critical battle on the planet of Coyn. Pierce's keen eye had turned a regular blaster rifle into a precise instrument of death as it eliminated no less than six Rebel High Command officers from the very outside of its' effective range.

Along with the rifle, Pierce had recieved a medal from the Coyn government for fending off the terrorists with his acts of heroism. Many present at the battle privately suspected that had things gone the other way, Pierce might well have been a Rebel political prisoner. There was no doubt in the mind of anyone there that day that in the application of forces that had occurred during battle, Pierce was one of the crucial ones.

Pierce had shaken his head in response to that and told civilians who'd interviewed him for the holovids that it wasn't the man who killed the enemy, but the people who had supported that man who deserved the credit. He was met with responses on the order of "Such nobility is the hallmark of the Imperial Army."

Except for one catch. Pierce's particular unit had been ordered to hold a rearguard by a commander who'd survived the battle. By taking things into his own hands, Pierce had disobeyed orders. The commander wanted him punished. The army couldn't let insubordination stand.

So the interviews were pulled before they could air. The heroism angle was quashed, the incident classified, and Pierce himself buried in stationary defense unit for six weeks until he was suddenly and abruptly transferred to Imperial Intelligence.

Before being transferred from the unit he'd saved, his comrades had presented him with a rifle that bore an inscription in Verpine on the inside of the casing. No one ever wanted to learn Verpine because it was such a complicated language, and Pierce had made several joking comments on the subject which had prompted their selection of Verpine as the language of the inscription.

That inscription had motivated him to learn the language and find out what it said. The day he translated it, Pierce Tondry cried. Ever afterwards, he'd kept the rifle as a trusty weapon.

The first time it had been stolen from him through his own carelessness. He had kicked himself for that and initiated a search, knowing that he would nab the culprit eventually, no matter how long it would take. A simple crime, and nothing to be worried about.

Then the rifle had been returned to him by Dalethria Mal Pannis abruptly and suddenly. From then on, the rifle had a new meaning as a treasure both lost and recovered.

But this time the weapon had been taken through force. Q'Dunn's interference had lost it to him once again, and it left Pierce feeling sorrow and frustration.

There was nothing he could have done to retrieve it.

Pierce's head raised from where he sat. He gazed out the window, and the commandos surrounding him looked at him, expectation on their faces.

The pre-dawn light had lit the sky for some time, and within moments, it would be real dawn. The relaxing breath people took during the dawn of the day after battle was always a perfect time for an escape.

And then, the first golden ray of sunlight stretched over the horizon.

Pierce waved a hand, indicating that preflight sequences should begin.

Within him, the emotions still warred. A logical part of him was surprised that it should be so- he had given up his soul to Sorsha Kasajian and theoretically should feel nothing. But another part of him whispered, told him that his feelings were still there and had been. That part whispered that something else was missing.

The sun climbed over the horizon and stood atop it. The sight caused Pierce to remember the morning after Coyn. Old memories rose within him, and the sunlight seemed to coax something from the depths of his body. The permanent feeling of numbness he'd felt since the day of his soul's removal and of boundless sensory input logically categorized and delineated into its' exact natures melted away and Pierce was now not 99.9 degrees, but warm.

The Verpine inscription surfaced in his thoughts, and Pierce took a steady breath.

"Move out," he ordered because he still had a job to do.

He couldn't let his feelings keep him from going on.

The sun abruptly ducked below the window's edge. The blue of atmosphere gradually faded to the blackness of space and the battle that Pierce had kept track of, despite things.

Jeger's suicide tactics had kept the Republic at bay. Whatever superweapon was aboard the vessel out there, it had had every kind of ship possible thrown in front of it. The Super Star Destroyer's continued existence made it apparent that the Republic did not want to destroy all their ships. It was possible they knew there were hostages on those ships.

The Verpine inscription again surfaced, lingering this time as Pierce walked to a communications terminal.

He pulled his personal commlink from his pocket and set it into a port on the comm terminal. A moment later, he had Jeger's command bridge on the line. "Hello Jeger," he said, and waited.

"Jax? Where have you been?"

"I'd be more interested in where I'm going, right now."

"And where is that?"

"Away from here, with all the information Arcan IV can give me."

"You won't escape-"

"Be silent," Pierce ordered.

Jeger made coughing noises. "I will not-"

"You are a nothing," Pierce continued. "The only way you win anything is by throwing lives away. You have no skill. You care nothing for the people you command. You are worthless and impotent, and the hostages you have on board those ships will not save you from your own weakness. You bombarded civilians and your own troops alike and hid it from everybody."

"There was a painting I saw once," Pierce's voice began grow distant with thought. "Commissioned by Palpatine himself. It was of a General holding a sword in hand on a hilltop with troops and smoke surrounding him. At the bottom of the hill was a battleground. It moved me- a warrior with loyal troops standing over the enemy who would destroy what he stood for."

"You could never be that warrior," he murmured.

There was silence on Jeger's end, broken finally by a noise from someone's throat. "Shut your mouth, Jax you impudent fool! You have no right-"

That was enough. Pierce had hit the nerve he'd aimed to hit, precisely as only he could do. "Goodbye, Adrius Jeger," he stated into the other's tirade. "No one will remember you after today. Those who do not lead from the front will get left behind."

"Jax? Jax!! Pierce TONDRY-" Pierce cut the comm off. In the distance a Victory Star Destroyer was closing on their position.

"Jeger's ordered an intercept," a call came from the cabin.

"He ordered the wrong ship to do it," Pierce replied. "Of course, given the signal leakage in my transmission, they're all wrong ships right about now. After what I've said, no one will support a faceless coward anymore."

"Transport Flashburn, this is Major Talat Unfrey of the Victory Star Destroyer Vagrant. Stand by and wait to be secured."

"Understood. We will comply."

"Thank you," there was no mistaking the appreciation in those words.

In moments, a tractor beam had pulled the ship into a holding bay. Pierce left the Flashburn with tension in his stride.

He was met by a familiar face at the head of several familiar faces- all of them Arcan IV ground units. "Colonel Tennesey," Pierce said with no small amount of surprise to the stalwart opposition of the secret officer's meeting. "What are you doing here?"

"I objected to joining you because of my principles," Tennesay said in the tone of one about to admit something. "But too many of my fellow officers were willing and eager to let the Republic swallow them back up in return for safety. I, at least, cannot forget their neglect so soon, and those same principles encouraged me to bring as many people as I could to meet you here."

He saluted. "We await your orders, General."

Pierce's face was drawn and serious, but his tired eyes smiled in spite of the loss. "Get us out of here.

"Yes, sir," Tennessey gestured to a subordinate- the same subordinate Pierce remembered talking to in the Arcan IV interrogation block security booth. "You heard him."

The man nodded, saluted, and left. "It feels to good to be with someone willing to lead from the front," Tennesey added offhand.

Pierce's breath caught in his throat and he wanted to cry. "Is there something wrong?" Tennesey's face echoed his concern.

The Vice-Director's face recovered. "Just thinking about the loss, Colonel," Pierce told him, clapping his new subordinate's shoulder. "Just thinking about today's loss. Let's go."

[DarthHERA]

They had been sent off in three's to fan out and reconnitor the area for "unfriendlies." Hera still hung back a little to stay out of anyones direct scruitiny - someone just may notice that she wasnt in fact Pvt L.T.Jones, as her shirt said.

Shouts up ahead brought Hera's attention to the fact that her two military companions had come across some stragglers and were herding them away. A movement to the left caught her eye as she saw a glimpse of someone trying to scale a ten foot wall in escape. She turned down the darkened alley away from the others and as she came closer saw a scrawny man clambering back down - unable to make it over the wall- and his eyes widened in fear as he saw her blaster rifle pointed at his chest.

"please dont shoot Im innocent its not what it looks like I just lost my way in the panic check my papers see look im just trying to get home I got lostin all this confusion I dont know where I am I havent done anything wrong Im just a guy in the wrong place bit of bad lack you could say"

It was "Drone", the contact she was to have met the night before. Hera would recognise that monotonous verbal prattle anywhere - he was notorious for it. Even in panic, Drone's voice never lifted in inflection or pitch and the words just tumbled without pause or breath. She started to laugh.

The two soldiers further up turned and looked for her and she gave them a reassuing wave and so they continued their task and moved the group on out of sight, assuming the lagger of their 3-man unit would catch up with them. They werent gonna try to hustle the private along, they werent babysitters - the guy had been draggin his butt the whole time - made them look bad..

Hera took off her cap and her hair fell down her back, making her recogniseable to the contact she was supposed to meet the day..or was it night..before. "Drone, you little fool. I thought you would have been long gone, not roaming the streets among this lot."

"I would say the same for you Hera but Im not one to look a gift horse in the nose"
(this was another trait of Drones - he constantly got his sayings mixed up. He was an underworld "go between" and a very successful one for the most part. He often went unnoticed and the way he talked, people discounted him quickly as being somewhat of an idiot. But he was infact, very wiley and his information was always accurate. Hera had often thought he did the monotone and mispronouncing simply to show everyone how cleverly stupid he could be)
"We should make hay while the tides high- time and sunshine wait for no one!I know of a safe house not one that the local boys use as they are all probably known by now this has been a horrible night horrible I have a message for you from Cozmo he has a proposition he thinks you will find hard to resist he has a certain parcel he wants you to collect for him.."

Hera held up a silencing hand that brought the continuous chatter to an abrupt stop. "Not here, Drone. Give me the details when we get to your haven. The rest of the troopers are still around and will be looking for more of your buddies. With that, Hera grabbed him by the collar and, aided by force strength, tossed him up and over the wall he had earlier been clambering up. She herself sprung upward and scuttled over it and landing safely on the otherside to more monotone garble from Drone. She thought to herself that Drone was useful, but also extrememly annoying and hoped she could restrain herself from choking him before days end.
She followed the slight,but agile fellow, and soon they had lost themselves in the depths of the city.

The dawn was breaking and the effects of the attack on Arcan IV looked even worse in the increasing light. The city was beginning to stir again, stunned and bewildered but assured from constant holovid reports that the NR was now in control. The citizens stepped out of their homes and places of refuge and moved with determination to take back their lives and city from the upheaval of the night before.

[Captain Zara Drecker]

“30 seconds to firing… Super Star Destroyer still not powering down shields. Are we free to fire Captain?”

Drecker paused, frowning as she looked over the scopes. One large ship had escaped the net and was obviously trying to sneak away. A VSD III. A nice modern ship. That was interesting, the main group wanted to fight and one was trying to flee? “I want Missile Cruisers to follow that ship…. Here. Keep it from escaping if they can. Otherwise, fire at will”

“Captain! Encrypt has picked up a signal! Something about hostages being on board the vessels…”

Drecker looked up, her expression suddenly turning from confident to white. “Hostages? Oh FRELL… hold fire for a moment… HOLD FIRE!”

She glanced at the crewers on the Ion Control boards. “I said…”

“Too late Captain! Main gun ignition sequence is final, we can’t stop…”

She bolted over to the board, shoved the crewer out of the way and hit the “SHUTDOWN” button with both hands. There was an ominous rumble…

Outside, the nose of the Defender had split open revealing the huge cannon installed along the axis of the ship. A Ion Cannon, capable of taking out huge starcraft and planetary defences in one huge Ion particle shot. The energies of it’s reactors blazed as the charging sequence finished. Dumped into capacitors, it had nowhere to go when the override was hit. Part of it tried to go backwards and fried the circuits, causing explosions and flames to begin. The rest kept going, a second later the enormous gun fired it’s Ion bolt, the recoil making the whole ship tremble. Untested, mounts broke, more circuits fried and backed into other circuits. Crewers rushed to deal with the damage –

- And Drecker watched as the huge bolt of energy smashed into the SSD, nose first. Lightning and flashes coursed up and down the huge ship, explosions could be seen as vital electrical arced out due to the overload. Her own ship lurched as something gave out.

“Bloody hell! Report!” She yelled

“Main array down! Forward propulsion down…” the damage reports streamed in – nothing terminal, but Defender had suffered a good wound of it’s own making. Drecker swore, her only consolation seeing the SSD was well and truly screwed over itself, even if the shot had been only a fraction of what the main array could deliver.

“Communications, open a hail.” They acknowledged, as she bent over the unit and spoke. “New Republic defectors! You are hereby ordered to stand down, or you will suffer the fate of your command ship. Any attempts at hostage taking will be dealt with severely. You have two minutes to reply”

“Ummm, Captain, we don’t have the capability to fire again” said one of the deck officers.

“They don’t know that. See? One is already powering down shields. Order boarding crews ready.” She watched as more ships dropped shields. “And someone find out where General Tohmahawk is and inform him we have the situation under control. Now, where is that VSD gone?”

“Out of range Captain. Looks like they are going to get away clean”

She could only shrug. “Well, at least it’s unlikely they will have any hostages. Allright, tell Argus to tractor that SSD so we can board and ascertain damage….”

[Arya Ravenwing]

EPILOGUE

Arya crept around a corner in the spaceport, warily making her way to where the Wing of the Raven was docked. The entire spaceport was eerily empty, having been shutdown as per the govenor's orders. She had bypassed the guards easily at the entrance and inside as well. Most of them were glued to their holovids, or watching the skies above. There were reports of the New Republic's fleet in the space above Arcan IV -and she expected the sky would start falling soon.

Ravenwing saw her Chevette where she had left it, and a huddled figure was sitting by the closed ramp. Her mind's eye assured her it was Turbogeek, and she ran towards him and her ship, quickly working the security overrides as he got to his feet.

"Arya, what took so long?" He had a lipstick mark on his right cheek. Arya frowned at him as the ramp descended.

"Get on board." She ran up the ramp, and he followed quickly as she slammed her palm against the ramp recall while rebounding off the bulkhead to race towards the cockpit.

"What's the rush?" He was right on her heels.

She shook her head, indicating he should shut up, and began the preflight check and warm up. Turbogeek sat and fastened himself in the co-pilot's seat. Arya kissed the medallion around her neck for luck, and the engines started with a whine that grew into a rumble.

A light outside the transparisteel cockpit window flashed red as alarms sounded in the spaceport. Frell. Those guards would be heading this way now. Turb opened his mouth, but shut it as she glared at him. He looked a lot cleaner than he had when they had parted.

She was still covered with mud, blood and most likely guts as well. Arya punched the controls, and the Chevette lifted off the ground. There was a freighter in the way of a direct take off, so she charged weapons and turned it to slag with the starboard disruptor array. The Wing of the Raven shot through the flames and debris, and soared for the upper atmosphere.

There were no high altitude ships patroling Arcan IV, and Arya piloted a course straight for open space. The fleets above the planet were directly above them as they shot out of the atmosphere, but she was betting that they were too occupied with themselves to worry about a little Chevette.

One of the Republic ships fired a massive ion blast at Arcan's flag ship as Arya headed straight for the closest jump point. Turbogeek looked like he was about to burst, but she ignored him as the nav computer spat out a destination and coordinates. She reached for the lever activating the hyperdrive, and slowly pulled down.

Stars stretched into lines, and then swirled around the cockpit. Arya sank back into her seat, her arms flopping down the sides of it.

Turbogeek leaned forward. "So what took you so long to get to the spaceport?"

She opened her eyes and frowned again. "I had to find my frelling credits. Krasst! What does it matter anyway?" She sat up, "For that matter, how did you get so clean? And why is there a lip mark on your cheek? Did you get lucky tonight when I wasn't frelling looking?"

He looked confused for a moment, and then brightened visibly. "Lucky? I think so. I found a house full of females, and they cleaned me up, and showed me the way to the spaceport. They were really nice ladies, but they had some wierd ideas about," he grimaced slightly, "about...um...sex."

She laughed wearily. "Can we talk about this later? Frell, I'm so tired my body is already asleep." With an effort Arya got to her feet, and stumbled from the cockpit.

"Well, I wanted to know about whipped cream. Do people really put it -"

Arya raised a hand. "Later. Krasst, aren't you even tired?" He looked as perky as he always did in the mornings. Except this morning he'd been up all the previous night. Turb nodded, but followed her to her cabin and lingered in the doorway jabbering about intercourse and food until she shut it in his face.

She collapsed in her bunk, trying to work her boots off without using her hands. Never, never ever let that frelling man in a brothel again. Arya fell asleep with one boot on and the other hanging off her toes.

Her dreams were scattered. In one she saw herself in a turbolift as it plummeted downwards. In another she found herself in Aaron's arms..or was it someone else? The scenes were to quick for her to be able to figure it out.

Arya awoke after about three hours, and crawled to the sonic shower in the refresher. As the pulses removed the dirt from her pores and hair folicles, she let her mind wander. She had to repay her debt. And that meant Trogan, and the trade conference.

And that 5000 credit advance Marcus had forced her to take would refit the Chevette with some needed upgrades. Like the shielding system.

After her shower, Arya Ravenwing sank into her bunk, pulled the covers over her head, and drifted into a dreamless sleep.

[Jyanis Scorpion]

EPILOGUE

"S'more, Jyanis?"

"Whatever gets the taste of bacta out and the taste of liquor in."

They both chuckled and the bottle neck clinked against the rims of their glasses. They nodded their heads simultaneously in countdown and tilted their heads back, downing the shots instantly.

"YEAH!"

"One... two..."

Another round into their systems. He wasn't even sure what they were drinking. Wasn't exactly the smoothest stuff in the galaxy, but damn was it good compared to every other taste in his mouth these past few days. He went from the dry, metallic taste of blood from his numerous fights and injuries, to the bitter taste of bacta from his time in the tank.

"One... two..."

One more round. Scorpion's gaze focused onto the glass as more liquor whirlpooled into it sloppily, splashing onto the bar counter. More washed down his throat, burning as it went, sending a brief buzzing feeling to his head before subsiding.

No words were said. The sensation of alcohol relieved them both of the past. For the moment. He stared into the bottom of his glass with a mournful look on his face. His whole body was screaming in pain, despite the bacta treatment he received. His eyes averted from the glass to Marcus, who was currently absorbed in their good friend, the bottle. He felt very comfortable around Marcus. They both had their similar good and bad points. He was really like family to him. They had this mutual understanding that revolved around shooting things, drinking, and then laughing about it later.

Jyanis started thinking about things. Things he usually repressed or ignored during the periods of time that didn't involve liquid stimulation. His blue hand wrapped tightly around the glass as more of the drink poured in. He wondered why he didn't act like the rest of the Chiss, even if he was in fact a half-breed. At his age prior to his parents' deaths it had never occurred to him that it made a difference, and never thought to ask why his mother looked so different from his blue skinned father. He never knew what made up the other half of his own peculiar genetics. Tests performed on himself couldn't identify the other half for some reason, which was disappointing to say the least. Maybe he'd find out someday.

The drink was becoming less of a novelty to his tastebuds, and it almost seemed bland. He swished it around in his mouth before swallowing it all at once.

Another round down. Many more to go.

[Elieen Cross]

It was some days later when I finally was able to get passage off the planet. My belongings were packed in a case that had an active hologram built for it, that disguised it’s contents from scanners. It had served me well in the past, smuggling equipment into places that few other would try. It was standing me in good stead as I was trying to get off Arcan IV. Security was incredibly tight, even to the point where I would say was the best I had ever seen. Whoever had been training these New Republic troops that had arrived had been exacting. These were troops that any armed service would desire. Not many of them granted, not what I could see, but I had the feeling even one would be a handful to defeat, even for me. And I was one of the best. A whole squad would be sheer danger. They all also had rail guns, mainly carbine types, portable shields and were alert. I had tried to mind trick one had found high resistance.

They’re badges of identification were all different too. Unknown unit numbers. NRSF logos. A day ago, I had pretended to be an airhead to find out what it meant. I had found it hard, even with the vapid routine to get anything worthwhile out of these soldiers. Even trying to outdrink one didn’t work. But I had been able to piece together that they were New Republic Special Forces, trained to deal with Force users and other high level disturbances.

That was interesting. And to admit, a good idea. Much like the Imperial Royal Guard in outlook and abilities. More interesting that such a force would come into existence, was the man whom I had found out was leading the NRSF.

What I was about to make my mission was to find out who exactly that man really was. There was some mystery as to whom he was, apart from Major General Tohmahawk. He was supposed to have been shot by Force Master Hunter, but obviously was very much alive. Leading by all reports of the crewers who had been in the various bars of the city I was in, a fleet with two colossal mobile war platforms, one a battlestation, the other with a Ion cannon powerful enough to destroy a Super Star destroyer. Nothing like that was known to exist…

A force that was unexpectly well trained, bought by a fleet that up to know was unknown and had a hammer that far exceeded it’s small numerical size, lead by a man who no one really knew about. A man I most wanted to find out more about. I could still see that holoview moment in my memory, when Tondry identified Tohmahawk as Marcus Q’Dunn. It had to be a mistake I kept on telling myself. Q’Dunn was dead. I however would not let this drop until I knew for sure now. That would mean I would need to find a way to get close to this Tohmahawk and to see for myself. I had asked myself, what if it was true?

I didn’t know. I would come to that when I knew for sure.

Right now, I was getting a transport to Ithor. What I needed right now was to get off this planet and to plan out what I would do. I would need all my skill in Intelligence to sift through the dune presented to me, to find out the grain I needed.

I was dressed in the simple camo I tened for, which hid the fact I had my armour on. The case had my Force Pike and the glaive which I almost never used and on my back was strapped the rifle I had found. I had to admit, it was a wonderful weapon, precision built, heavier than I liked, but well balanced and sighted perfectly. I had found an odd inscription on it, which I decided to work out what it was later. For now, I would keep it for my own until I found whom the real owner could be. I had a suspicion with the note I had found with it, but that could have been for anything. I had fashioned a back holster for it, to protect it.

“Id please”

I got to the outbound check point, where these NSRF soldiers were checking datacards before allowing anyone go. Although the battles a few days ago had caught just about all the Yevyss holdouts and criminals, some still roamed loose. No one was taking any chances. I had heard there had been a shootout two days ago, which the NRSF had won without loss. The criminal base was defeated utterly. I reached into my pocket to draw out my Elieen Cross id.

“Destination Cross?”

“Ithor”

“You have a weapon. Show me your licence to carry it”

I presented the forged licences.

“You have clearance to carry weapons on a public transport? How did you manage that Cross?”

“That’s M’dm to you, soldier. Why don’t you run that id through your scanner and clear me before I get impatient?”

He bristled, but did so. To his credit, there was no apology, but he did hand back the id without further comment and allowed me through. Nice that working for Wayland Yuthanti could open doors occasionally. I walked out to the transport and without looking back, walked up the boarding ramp to begin my journey to Ithor.

From there, who knew. As I found and took a seat, I could feel the familiar object on my finger, under the gloves I wore. My wedding ring, something I had never taken off. Once a symbol of my loss. Now… maybe a symbol of the future?

I didn’t know. But I was going to find out.

[Pierce Tondry]

Operation Mudcrawler: Official Analysis

Opening Remarks: Such a large and time consuming operation as Mudcrawler cannot be properly summated without personal remarks from the ranking on-site commander. As Vice-Director, I am that ranking commander.

It is the belief of the Vice-Director's office that Jedi intuition allows them extremely fortuitous timing. Operation Mudcrawler is no exception.

The Operation had its' beginnings several months ago, when I was informed of the nature of Arcan IV's newly elected governor- one crimelord named Desmond Yevyss. Director Ysanne Isard believed we could benefit from a secret alliance with the man who had wormed his way into a position of official power.

I pointed out to her that if the man were caught, as he most likely would be, we would take the fall with him. It would be far better to simply take him down ourselves and claim credit for improving the lives of others. We could use such an act to hold legitimacy as an elite organization among the governments that exist today. As a (mostly) law-abiding Imperial citizen, this suited my principles more than actually supporting crime.

Preparation and planning were invested in this course of action. Delta Division, a group of Intelligence's most aggressive and elite men who have spent literal decades fighting against and participating in counterterrorist activities regarding the established galactic militaries, was formed.

Its' formation prompted what I percieve as an upturn in Intel's activities. Forty percent of all enlisted agents have shown aspirations to work Delta Division-classified operations, being willing in particular to undergo the extreme marksmanship training I require. I am now working with a group of motivated shooters which I believe Intelligence is better for.


Target Mission(s):

Mission Alpha: Utilize the situation of the planet Arcan IV to the advantage of Imperial Intelligence, in order to gain popular galactic support and legitimize certain public activities.

Mission Bravo: Retrieve any and all data regarding the operation for analysis.

Mission Charlie: If possible, recruit directly from the populace of Arcan IV to supplement Intel's ranks.


Target Objectives:

TO #1: Form a symbiontic relationship with the criminal organization headed by Desmond Yevyss.

TO #2: Make use of the organization and planetary militia to solidify its' criminal control over the planet.

TO #3: Following the elimination of criminal opposition, expose Yevyss' criminal status to the public and execute him.

TO #4: Work with military forces existing on the planet to root out other criminals.

TO #5: Negotiate planetary political structures to place Intelligence-loyal politicians and officers in key positions, thus effectively winning the planet over.


Mission Status: Failed


Mission Success: 66.7%


Overview:

Obvious Public Relations campaigns were run in Arcan IV's vicinity. Contacts were informed within criminal infrastructures of the necessary responses. TO #1 was successfully complete the day Desmond Yevyss made an encrypted call to an Intelligence SCL (Secure Comm Line) on Coruscant.

TO #2 was more difficult. The planet had recently undergone military upgrading for its' Army units and installations, but it had no Navy beyond ground-based starfighter squadrons. The decision was made to induce Yevyss to capture a sector fleet using our prepared false orders and confirmations. He took the bait, but began deviating from our plans almost immediately once he had a taste of power. His delaying tactics would cost us.

Unfortunately, TO #3 was interrupted by the appearance of the New Republic. They had come seeking their stolen ships, and they had come with Jedi. They came too late to stop consolidation of the criminal population, but came just before our followup action- the exposure of Yevyss.

In accordance with TO #3, I personally fought a Jedi Master named Marcus Q'Dunn. It took much stamina on my part, and in the end I lost in what I consider a delaying battle. It was this same Jedi Master who has been masquerading as James Tohmahawk and Skip Vatenan, of the NR. His style also feels the same as that of a very experienced Darth Turbogeek- rough, crude, and abrasive, yet deadly. The knowledge of Q'Dunn's real identity fills in gaps between the various profiles we have of Tohmahawk and Vatenan. If Q'Dunn has other identities, I would not be surprised. Intelligence will keep an eye on who appears around him in the future.

Due to Republic interference, exfiltration was necessary. I personally caught wind of the potential NR action in advance of it happening and thus was able to call in Delta Division ahead of time in order to make good the full scope of our plans. Though overall the mission failed, Delta Division agents were able to blind a sensor net long enough to sneak an armed transport in and out, divert and destroy three biological warheads, and escape from the battle going on in Arcan IV space.


Reasons for Failure of Mission:

This mission failed due to the Republic's interference in the critical period between the time where we were actively supporting Yevyss and the intended time of dethroning. They showed up in force, paraded their banner and troops around, and then assumed control of the planet in spite of our hard work. Had they been any later or any less successful, they would have been the ones who failed.


Concluding Remarks:

Fortunately, we were able to recruit both New Republic and Arcan IV dissidents directly into our ranks. They are undergoing security screening at the present time.

Delta Division's first training and operational activities were complete successes. Had Operation Mudcrawler gone as planned, it would have been as victorious for them as it was for me.

Our failure, I believe, will strengthen our resolve.

That includes the personal loss of my rifle. Since I can now no longer carry the weapon in combat, I must carry it and its' words in my mind. In addition, I carry knowledge of Jedi fighting tactics that I can impart to my men. Knowing a little better what works and what doesn't work against Jedi will aid them in the days to come.

Of additional use will be the Victory Star Destroyer Mark III that was captured by our assisting defectors. Its' former name was Vagrant. I will have to give her a new name. She will be fully fitted for atmospheric operations.

The attached pages contain a full summary of this operation, as well as lists of gains and retrieved data.

Pierce Tondry
Vice-Director, Imperial Intelligence.

End report.

[Marcus QDunn]

The starlight burst through the view port, creating shadows and bright point in the room that was a fairly bare 10 by 10, standard New Republic war ship cabin in construction and decoration. The light shone in on a bed, shone on a collection of bottles that occasionally clinked as the ship moved, shone a bare kitchen, shone on a bed. The blanket on that bed was black and non-descript, the pillow was a bare white. The head on the pillow was covered in neat short black hair. A arm dangled from under the blanket, hand wrapped in bandages Snores could be heard coming from the depths of the blanket. There was a black cat curled up on the end of the bed, also asleep. Nothing else.

Time went past with no further movement.

Conscious came creeping back like a thick gooey sludge being poured out of a pot, came back slowly and it seemed it came from a long distance. The arm moved to a place next to the head and a soft moan could be heard.

Another few minutes with only vague stirrings

The cat yawned and stretched as a muffled fart sounded out and the blanket stirred. A low groan could be heard, then a moment later by another fart. There was some more movement, slow at first as the person under the blanket began to stir and slowly wake up. Eyes opened and blinked with the starlight of some sun streamed into the irises, pupils dilated, the eyelids were scrunched together as the pain receptors came active. Another groan.

The cat got up and stretched again, aching it’s back as it stretched what seemed like every bone and every muscle of it’s body. It yawned again, began to work muscles and sinews before stepping off the bed lightly. The person didn’t move for a few more minutes, before the arm was drawn up and with seeming huge effort, what appeared to be a male human slowly curled himself up and then drew himself into a seating position. The blanket fell off his well muscled body, revealing a fairly fit man, dressed in cargo pants and a black t-shirt. What could be seen of the man’s skin was either bandaged or had obviously had recent medical attention, except for the face, which was boyish and quite handsome, but marked by a bruise that was already beginning to recede. Both hands it could be see were bandaged, almost up to the elbows. Both legs dropped to the floor, bare feet more like the feet of a dancer. He grimaced, obviously moving one of his legs with difficulty as he came upright. His groggy mind began to clear itself as his eyes opened enough to view the room

His stomach was feeling queasy, but it quickly receded as he took a few deep breaths. A foot bumped a bottle, which fell over and startled the cat. He raised his eyes to look about the room, seeing that it was relatively dark and quiet, only the very quiet background rumble of the engines of the spaceship being the only other sound other than the cat, who was beginning to wash himself and purr loudly.

Marcus Q’Dunn, Jedi Warlord, but to the rest of the galaxy known as Major General James T. Tohmahawk of the New Republic Special Forces, looked about the room. He was feeling surprisingly good, considering this was the first night he had slept in his room since the medics had been working on him. His eyes glanced down to the 5 or 6 bottles, initially puzzled, but then remembering Jyanis and himself had had a few nightcaps of Q’Dunn’s favoured soft drink, talking well past the time they should have been asleep. Normal humans probably would have had a headspin from the sickly sweet beverage.

But that was okay, neither he nor Scorpion were human… well maybe somewhere along the line the race of the OcckaAustralias and humans had been the same in the past, as his race could certainly crossbreed successfully with humans. But no human had his natural, unreal strength, given by the fact the gravity of TerraAustralias was over twice normal, nor the tolerance for the sheer heat of the deserts he grew up in. Nor did normal humans live as long. Tohmahawk was 108 years standard. TerraAustralias was in the Unknown Regions, hence it was spared the worst of the Empire. But Tohmahawk had been living on Debrillion and had gone through it all. Seen the Fall, seen the NR rise. Been part of it. Still, if he reached the average life of an OcckaAustralias, he would see another 250 years. What could happen in that many years was mind-boggling and he tried not to dwell on it for long, especially as the things he had done and seen were the stuff that history was made of.

He glanced to the chrono on the bench and was quite surprised to see he had been asleep for nearly 36 hours. No wonder he was feeling half allright, obviously his body had recovered from the drugs and stuff the quacks used to knit him back together. And also given his system time to begin the natural healing process. He kept seated until he decided to try to see if his legs could take his weight and was even pleasantly surprised when they did, however his left was still a pretty sorry mess. Limping badly, he went to the refresher as the cat began to lick it’s paws.

He came out, feeling much relieved and limped to the shower, using the wall to keep his balance. Undressing, he managed to get the bandages off his hands, seeing the burns and cuts were healing well. There was the memory of broken bones in the hands, but as he did a slow and careful flex, he could feel they had been well repaired. The hamstring was going to take some time to make right, but it was well on the way. Unlike normal, he ran the water as hot as he could stand it, and stood there for a long time, allowing the spray to massage the aches and also for the steam to help clear his mind. It seemed to work, for when he came out with hair still wet and clothed again in similar dress but fresh items, he was feeling quite alert. And even more to the point, pretty damn good about himself. The floor had been cleaned up and the cat quite obviously well fed, so that meant the cleaning droid had been in.

He moved over to the small kitchen to fix himself some breakfast. He wasn’t really feeling like anything heavy, so he put together a fruit bowl from items dispensed by the food unit and also set the unit to making a cup of tea. He didn’t know why, most times the unit produced something close to, but not quite related to pig slop. Maybe it was wishful thinking. He sat down on one of the chairs when the tea was ready and was pleasantly surprised to find it was fantastic. Quietly impressed the unit could actually make a good cup of tea right for once, he ate and sipped away, not really doing much more except gently pushing the cat away when it occasionally insistent for attention. Finishing the bowl off, he got up and limped to where his wardrobe was. He opened it, took out a long sleeved workout t-shirt He paused, took a sip of the still hot liquid, then also withdrew the trenchcoat as well. A bit of a smile played over his face, considering what he was going to wear. One of the privileges of rank was you could do what you wanted at times and he quite frankly didn’t like the current NR uniform. There was a specific NRSF design coming, but it wasn’t here yet. Thence he would wear something he liked. Besides, the crew of this ship recognised these clothes he wore now, it was like wearing the full dress uniform. It set him apart.

Five minutes later, he was dressed and finishing off the tea. He placed the cup down, the cat casually moving to it and investigating for any dregs, while Tohmahawk reached back into the wardrobe, to the locker behind the clothes. Only two beings had the key for this locker, him and the droid servant. In it were his most prized possessions and he hated the thought of anyone else touching them. On one side was the gun rack, which was empty save for twin rail guns, which he took out, with the twin belt holsters. He clipped the belt on his waist, picked up the guns, made sure they were loaded and placed them in the holsters. On the other side of the locker…. He reached in and took out two items. One was his lightsabre, Athona. He gave this a glance, before clipping it to his belt. The other… was an absolute work of art. At 1.2 meters long, cold steel, dual handgrips, a glittering weapon of death. Icefist, the sword he had taken from the hands of his clone. He backed away from the wardrobe, still looking at his reflection in the highly polished blade. It was quite an incredible device, imbibed with the Force, set with spells to make it a weapon of truly dangerous properties, as that person they had found on one of recaptured Star Destroyers had found out. Snapped frozen, as would happen to anyone that touched the sword that was not the creator. Q’Dunn smiled, thinking of the look on that dead clone’s face as he had picked the blade up. Seems clones were identical genetically and in the Force, the sword accepted Q’Dunn as the hand that made it.

He lifted the sword, then ran two fingers down the blade. At the tip, he flicked it, making the sword ring as clearly as a well tuned bell. It was his now.

Putting the sword in it’s sheath, he tied the thing to his back, but under the trench coat so it could not be seen. As good a weapon as it was, it was a bitch to carry and he preferred the rail guns if the truth be told. Why bother exerting yourself when one well placed bullet did the job anyway?

Turning, he moved to where there was a mirror on one of the walls. He looked himself over, seeing the General that the Galaxy saw. But the eyes told the truth. The eyes never lied. He was so much more. A Jedi with great skill, power and above all, honour. A Jedi with a black past yes, but still, as he had told Jyanis, it was not your past that made you what you were in the present. It was what you did in the future. And his future…

Well, whatever it was, it was a good deal different to what it was a few days ago. The fact was, it was over. He could look at himself in the mirror and not be revolted by what he saw. He was whom he was. Nothing would change that and cursing a past or abilities wasn’t going to change a thing. The fact was, it was that past and his abilities that had kept him alive and it was that past that would keep alive the ones he loved. The ones he had sworn to protect. The memory of others who had died. Who had he been kidding thinking he could abdicate the responsibilities to Jina, to his friends, the Jedi and to what remained of the memory of his wife?

Making the decision was one thing. To enact on it was another. He looked at himself in the mirror, seeing how the years had been kind to his face. In human terms, he was old. And yet he had ¾ of his life to go.

As he looked at himself in the mirror, his thoughts drifted to what was behind it. You cant bury pain, you had to deal with it. Head on. His hand reached out, placed a finger in a certain place and pressed. A click And the mirror swung on a hinge to reveal a locked safe. Q’Dunn closed his eyes and breathed in, then out, steeling himself. He reached up and touched the release code and slowly opened the safe. Inside there was a few items, the most precious possessions he had. Ones that caused him pain to think of in the past…. He pulled out the first. It was a picture of when he was a Jedi, not long after his promotion to Master. He was with the people he called his Jedi family. Master Yoghurt, small, wise. Boricua, the human mountain. What a team they had been. Figrin D’An, Rmaio and his cats. Garik Loran. Stealth Enigma. Dez Arken. And….

Shay Kaylon. Dead.

And little Fire Hazzard. How he had given her a hard time. But how they had become fast friends. What a ball of energy and temper she was, but all the Jedi had loved her. Q’Dunn had even been the one to promote her, presenting her with her sabre as a sign of her promotion. Killed. His eyed blurred with sudden tears. The news of her death had hurt. And he had done nothing about it, all because he was off playing soldier and didn’t want know. Maybe she would be alive if he hadn’t…….. no. NO. It wasn’t his fault. And he would have been able to do nothing anyway. And revenge wouldn’t solve anything. All he could do was to make sure a young and sweet girl like that was never murdered by evil that was the Dark Jedi again.

He placed the picture on the table, then took out the next item. A medallion stamped as a mark of his promotion to Knight. Q’Dunn smiled. That had felt like some sort of redemption achieving that… again, he placed that on the table, next to the picture. There were a few more items of memorabilia. A picture. News items. Some provoked wistful smiles, others threatened tears, with memories of people he had known, either dead or gone from his life. Nothing labelled with his real name. In fact, he could really have been looking at someone else’s life. Except for the last item. A white envelope. Plain. He took it out, realising his hand was trembling. He opened it slowly, then removed a small note.



To my Dear Marcus,

How can I ever tell you how much I love you? You’re my life, my Everything. How could I live without your love? Be with be always, grow old with me.

Yours loving wife

Helenais



He broke down right then and there and began sobbing. The paper he allowed to drop, as tears came down his face. The only woman he had ever loved, the most caring and loving being he had ever come across, how could she be gone? Years of grief sprang out and he collapsed on the floor, utterly taken with it.

“NOOOOOO!!!” His cry of despair carried all the years of loneliness, the years he had been running from this. And it caught him well and truly now.

Who knew how much longer it was. He found himself sitting on the floor, head on his knees. He lifted his head, eyes feeling dried out and mouth parched. The note was beside him. He reached over and picked it up, then got up. He needed something to drink. Like water. Q’Dunn moved over to the dispenser, dialled up what he wanted and got the fluid. He drank deeply, placed the cup down. He looked at the note again and felt another wave of grief try to take him. He refused to give in this time, instead moving back to where he had dropped the envelope. He picked it up and placed his hand inside for the other two objects.

One was a picture. He was holding Helenais and she was smiling. They were dressed formally.

My God, she was a beautiful woman. Especially on that day

And he looked at the other. A small circle of cold metal, a ring. It was gold. It was his wedding ring, a symbol of the union they had made, a union torn apart….

That wasn’t right. He had sworn to love her forever, even past his death. No. In spirit they would continue. One day, he would be reunited. If he continued to walk the path of Light, he would see her again. How, he didn’t know. But he would.

He remembered how she had first put this ring on his finger, after he had done the same to her. He had lifted her veil and kissed her….

He placed the ring back on his finger. It slipped on easily. Q’Dunn looked at it on his finger and realised it still looked completely in it’s place. It was like a piece of himself had been missing and had been found. He drew the gold band up to his lips, giving it a kiss like he used to, to signify he loved her. He crossed his arms in front of his body – what I would give just to hold her once more – and yet again fought back the emotions that were trying to swamp him.

How long did he remain like that? How long? He didn’t know.

At least I had her in my life, even if it was for a short time. And I know that if I hold to the Light, I’ll see her again. At least that is something to hold onto to. Something that I know that is true.

Cold comfort. But it was true all the same. The thing was, she was dead, he was living. So what was he going to do about it? Mourn for the rest of his life? Step out an airlock?

Or get back on with life?

One thing he wasn’t going to do was to just avoid it again. He opened his eyes, feeling just how sore they were. He looked down at the ring on his finger, moving to remove it….. and decided not to. Hiding the ring wasn’t the answer.

“You know something Helenais? I miss you, I really do. I’ve been trying to deny that you never came into my life. I know that was wrong. Can you forgive me for that? Actually I’m sure you would. You forgave every other stupid mistake and silly word I said. I been so retarded in what I have been doing”. His face twisted into a wry smile. “Just a whole line of retarded things, right? Well, I’m not sure what I can do to make things right. But I will. I promise”

Q’Dunn arranged the pictures on the table, using their display frame to prop them up. The piece of paper he placed back in the envelope and put in back in the safe, closing it. He also closed the mirror, catching a glance in his reflection. He looked like crap. His eyes were red and his face tear streaked. But he did feel better. A lot better. Like a weight had been lifted.

I wonder if that clone mourned like I have? I wonder if it ever knew the memories of it ever being married were nothing more than flash implants?

That stuck him in some bizarre way as being quite funny. How would it be like to have a life in your head that wasn’t yours? To think you had known love?

“Hey cat, how do any of us know when we have been loved? I guess we just have to go through it ourselves. Not that you would know, you mangy feline”. The cat ignored him and kept washing it’s genitals. “See what I mean? How would you know?”

I know. And I’m the richer for it, even if it should be over. But it’s not. She’ll live on with me, forever. It may be a long time until we meet again my dear wife, but we will again. I know it

One more glance at the ring on his hand and he turned to head out the door. He only paused to wave goodbye to the cat and exited into the hallway, closing the door behind him. The walk (or more precisely limp) he took lasted nearly an hour, climbing stairs and service ways. Occasionally he passed crewers who saluted as he past. He nodded in return. Finally he reached the bridge of Defender, stepping through the blast doors to make the main deck.

“General on the Bridge!”. One of the crewers noted his unexpected arrival and yelled for attention.

“At ease. Where is Captain Drecker?”

“Umm, Bay 13 Sir!”

Tohmahawk nodded, before limping in the indicated direction. He came up to a group of officers, who all saluted too. The woman there didn’t, but instead held out a hand, which he grasped. “Welcome back Sir, it good to see you up and about. Will you be joining us at the new Governor’s inauguration?”

“Wha… I must have been out for a while. When did Arcan IV elect a new Governor?”

“They didn’t. Major Rog’er Ramjet was told to do it until the place settled down and they could run elections. He’s a good man too”

“Really? Good. Please pass my apologies, but I have something else I must attend to. Is my personal ship onboard?”

“Yes sir, do you want it prepped?”

“Yes Drecker, I do. I’ll be going to it’s hangar now. Oh and Drecker..”

“Yes sir?”

His face broke into a smile “Well done. Consider your tenure of the NRSF flag permanent”

She breathed in, surprised “Why… thank you sir. I wont let you down!”

“I know. Carry on”

--

The red giant that was Yavin IV was high in the sky as dusk approached. The shuttle itself had long gone and he was standing on top of one of the Massani temples that were scattered through the jungles. It had been a long hard climb, but the view by itself made it worth it. There was a gentle breeze that flapped and whipped his trench coat about his legs. The redness of dusk was reflected on his eyeshades as he stood there, arms at his sides.

Last time he was here, the clone Darth Turbogeek had been killed. The clone he had tried to put in his place. What a mistake that had been. The fact no one of the Jedi knew meant that as far as they were concerned, Force Master Hunter was a murderer of a Jedi Master, a wanted man. Major General Tohmahawk was the tyrant, bitter and hostile, with the guns and the attitude to take on anyone.

Marcus Q’Dunn meant nothing to anyone. Yes, he was a Jedi Master, but no one knew that name. He closed his eyes and breathed in, held it and then expelled, opening his eyes, feeling the Force all around him. He looked outwards into the distance where Temple Avalon stood, the secret place that the Jedi Council now met. Up above the planet, the armada that was the New Republic orbited, along with the special defences the Jedi were putting in place. He could see in the distance the construction that would make this planet so secure, no fleet could hope to successfully attack it.

What he wouldn’t give to see the faces of anyone who tried. Almost as satisfying as seeing the clone’s face when Q’Dunn had told it the truth. Almost as satisfying as…..

As coming here again. As coming here, sabre on his belt, sword on his back. As coming here, with defences dropped, as a fully revealed Jedi. To feel the Force, to know the Light, to see the magnificence. To be part of it once again. The Light was is ally, he was it’s servant and he know there would be no going back this time.

Darkness tries to claim us all… and only by fighting back can we win. Only by standing with the Power of Light can there be possibly have a defence. We must have beings willing to make a stand and to fight evil where it goes. By whatever means we are called to use. Some of us will be scholars, others teachers. But for me…..

He was Warrior. A breed and sect of Jedi that was virtually unheard of now, uncommon even in the days of the Old Republic. Wore the title of Warlord, the ancient one given to the best warrior of the Jedi at a specific time. Most Jedi would be horrified to learn that it was perfectly acceptable to attack… you just had to know when and how. The teachings of Yoda and Skywalker was only one point of view on how a Jedi acted and behaved.

The light side frees us of rules if we know why.

Q’Dunn continued to stand there, watching as the sun set in the gathering mists. The errie red tinge added a surrealness to the jungle below and he could here animals and birds in the distance below. One particularly bright bird circled the canopy, making loud hooting calls to something below. He could sense more all around him, Yavin was alive with movement and life.

As he was. And he rejoiced.

A few more minutes, he watched as the dusk began to change to full dark and he decided it was time. He glanced down the side of the pyramid, gathered his body and legs and then cast himself off the side. His feet touched the sloping sides every few seconds, slowing the decent, so that when his boots touched the ground, he didn’t have to absorb too much of the impact. He fell to a crouch, looking anything like a big black cat, poised to spring. He sprang off again, this time into the jungle itself and beginning this last leg of his journey.

--

Midnight.

The Council room was cold and dark, any business that had been done here long past for the day. The light shining through the windows was not much, but it was enough to make out what was in the room. A table. 12 chairs. Nothing much else.

On the other side, a door light blinked, then a lock clicked. Slowly the door opened, to allow in a shadowy figure, who carefully closed the door behind him. It had been easy getting in here, he knew how to circumvent security and the passes he had he had made sure ages ago still were valid. Council Access only. As far as Central was concerned, he was still on the Council, even if he had not taken a step personally in here for over two years.

He eyes narrowed. Had it really been over two years? Had he really been Tohmahawk full time and allowed that clone to think it was Turbogeek for two whole years? Hard to believe. And hard to believe all that had happened. Q’Dunn moved to the place he used to sit, seeing that indeed his place – Turbogeek’s place – had been long taken. By someone he didn’t even know. But still, this place drew out memories…. He allowed his hands to drift over the ancient wood that was the Council table, feeling it’s texture, it’s warmth. Another hand touched one of the chairs, remembering how it would deform to the seated being, adapting to the person who sat.

“YOU THERE!!! How were you able to enter these secure chambers?!”

He looked up to see a petite Jedi, wearing a white robe had entered. She had quite a look on her face.

“Late night Leia?”

She seemed startled for a moment. “Major General Tohmahawk? What are YOU doing in here? GET OUT NOW!”

“Why?”

“This is Council ONLY! Don’t make me do something!”

“Who said I wasn’t on the Council?”

JK Leia Solo just got angrier. “Enough of your cheek Tohmahawk or Hunter, whatever the frell you call yourself. You have 10 seconds to tell me how you got in and 15 to get out”

He turned his whole body to face the windows, then walked to them as he replied. "I've always been able to get in here Leia. I used Turbogeek's access codes. Now... Now why have you not cancelled them? Is there some delusion he's coming back?"

It was clear all Leia could do was narrow her eyes coldly at Hunter, as she tied to control her temper. "How did you get those access codes? No one but the council member has these access codes, for that matter alone, there was no need to change them. But trust me, I will make sure to it that they will be! I am not delusional Hunter. I truly believe one day Master Turbogeek will return to the light. Mark my words..HE WILL!!."

Hunter coldy and slowly turned around to face the Jedi Master. "Don’t delude yourself Leia. The Turbogeek who ripped through the Bar and Grill was not the original Turbogeek. I should know, The Jedi you so worship is nothing more than a pile of ashes on a dead end planet courtesy of me. " He saw Leia's face twist but continued before she could interrupt "Maybe you should ask yourself who Turbogeek really was. What did you really know? And while we are at it, wasn't the access codes given to Turbogeek under what was supposed to be his true name? Do you remember what that name was?"

He could see she was getting frustrated at what she perceived was his pure arrogance. “I know who Master Turbogeek was. Probably more so than you do..dear Hunter. He never had any other name than Turbogeek. I know”

Q’Dunn’s face broke into a smile. "So you think you know the late lamented Turbogeek better than I do? That would be interesting to achieve. " His tone turned decidedly chilly. "I watched him being conceived. I saw his undeveloped body grow. I watched as he took shape. Can you claim that? And as for the real name of Darth Turbogeek...did you ever wonder why he never used it and yet kept a Sith title? Doesn't that strike you as odd?”

“You are talking about this clone of Turbogeek, being conceived and all. I know the original DT Hunter! Not this clone...so indirectly.. YES, you know the clone more than I do, even though I have no idea how you know that As far as the original Turbogeek I cannot say why he kept his sith title even though he changed over from the darkside. I have to admit, I truly don't know the answer to that.”

"No you stupid excuse for a Jedi… I wasn't talking about this new clone... I have no idea where the hell he came from - but I'll tell you I'll find out and then dispose of it. No, I mean the original Turbogeek. I saw him created. I know where he really came from"

She was puzzled now – puzzled and furious. “How the frell would I know how Turbogeek was conceived? And how the Frell would YOU know?”

“Yes I was there. I saw him turn up 8 years ago. I was watching for the madness. You do know clones go mad, don’t you?”

“You insult the Jedi if you think Darth Turbogeek was just a clone… so tell me, if he was a clone, whose clone was he?”

A long time ago, Q’Dunn had learned a Force ability to hide himself in the Force, to make himself look like an ordinary human. And for the last few hours, he had been using it, shielding what he was. For years he had used it to hide himself from others. And now, he allowed it to fade. He kept his face straight as the Jedi standing across from him firstly looked puzzled, then had a look of extreme shock come over her face.

“Ho…how?” She looked sandbagged. The killer of Darth Turbogeek, thought by the Jedi to be nothing more than an upstart General…. A Jedi himself? He could read her thoughts as they raced in turmoil.

“Perhaps I should explain. It’s a bit of a long story”

He thought about this as Leia nodded, too stunned to say anything

“Actually… better take a seat. It’s a VERY long story”



<font color=red>
I never thought I'd end up here
never thought I'd be standing where I am
I guess I kind of thought that it would be easier than this
I guess I was wrong now one more time

I tried to climb your steps
I tried to chase you down
I tried to see how low I could get down to the ground and
I tried to earn my way
I tried to change this mind
you better believe that I have tried to beat this

so where will this end it goes on and on
over and over and over again
keep spinning around I know that it won't stop
till I step down from this

sick cycle carousel
this is a sick cycle, yeah
sick cycle carousel
this is a sick cycle, yeah

</font>