What if...?

[Nupraptor]

Every action we take has calculated repercussions which ripple outward, like a pebble tossed into a pond. Every decision we make has the potential to impact not only our lives, but the lives of others in powerful ways. A slip of the tongue could start a war, whereas silence could spare countless lives.

Every intelligent lifeform, at one point or another, has stopped to think about how else a situation might have resulted, had they acted differently. How, whether through luck or clairvoyance, they could have influenced the outcome of past events. But, regardless of anything anyone does now, the past is immutable: it cannot be changed.

Imagine, however, being able to peer into another world. A world where you have walked the path not taken, where the tinniest ripple has resulted in a tidal wave. Come... let's play a little game of "What If?"

----------------------------------------------

Every planet in every system has had it's good times, and it's dark times. Those dedicated to benevolence and malevolence have feuded since long before time was recorded. And, on a grander scale, the proverbial forces of Good and Evil were long at war. Yet, in the grand scheme of things, they found a relative balance. But, what dictates that this must be so? What keeps this order, this balance? The choices made every day by every living thing.

Standing on the surface of Endor, a diminutive Ewok was busily working away at carving himself a new spear. A jagged rock grasped firmly in one furry palm, and a wooden pike in the other, he shaved away at the end of the stick, humming a tune to himself. And, although it has happened countless times before, he shivers, dropping his spear to the ground, as a darkness suddenly falls over him, eclipsing the sun. Still trembling, he retrieved his weapon, not even worried about the sharp stone, and began to run back to his village. All the other Ewoks told him that these were signs of the end, that they had displeased their deity. He refuted their claims silently, telling no one but himself that he knew differently. His father had passed down stories of great, tall creatures without any fur that roamed the planet, just on the outskirts of the forest. He knew this had to do with them.

Up in the sky, orbiting ever so slowly around the planet was something that could easily be mistaken for one of it's moons. Except this moon was made of metal and wrought of iron. This 'moon' struck pure terror into the hearts of even the bravest of men. For, it was not really a moon: It was a Death Star.

Inside, at the northernmost tower of this Death Star was a throne room, of sorts. One lacking the exuberance and opulence normally associated with a room so titled. But this was the Throne Room to the Ruler of the New Empire himself, and such things were beneath him. From here, he could oversee the destruction of entire planets, watch wars waged just outside his technological terror... or simply have time to himself to contemplate the Dark Side of the Force. Which was exactly what he was doing now. Resting in his makeshift throne, his eyes were closed in deep thought. The smooth features of his face were obscured in the shade cast by the dark hood drawn deep over his head. He sat motionless, his hands gripping the armrests of his chair and his chest not so much as rising or falling with the intake of breath. He could easily pass for a corpse, were he not sitting so sharply upright.

For a time, some had doubted that the New Empire could succeed. It was a relatively new force in the scheme of things, yet it was ruthless and cunning. Or rather, those who ran it were. Trickery and guile had won them as much power as brute force. That was one of the fundamental truths of power: Those who wield great power rarely have to use it. Simply the threat of it's usage proved to be enough. This battlestation was physical proof of that maxim.

As it turned out, taking hold of this power was far easier than even the Emperor had planned. The fabled strength of the Jedi Knights fell all too easily to the Terror that was the Empire, and the few that remained were far too scattered to be considered a real threat. Still apparently lost in his own thoughts, the Emperor didn't even raise his head as the main entrance to his throne room slid open with a intake of air. The pair of Imperial Royal Guards standing watch did not hesitate for a second to bring their Force Pikes down in front of the unannounced visitor, crossing them in an X formation. His head still bowed, the Emperor raised one hand and waved it in a dismissive manner to the guards, and he spoke in a raspy tone.

"Let him in...", He said simply.

The guards silently withdrew their weapons and returned to their motionless stances. While both they and the Emperor knew that the figure entering was allowed in at all times, it was a formality to stop anyone who entered without declaring themselves first. In fact, the man standing on the threshold of the doorway looked no different than the men attending it. Dressed in blood-red armor, this particular guard did not stand out from the others, at least... not physically. But something about him, some unseen aura that radiated around his being, marked him as a man to be feared; to be respected. His Force Pike, the traditional mark of his status, was hung from his back, keeping both of his hands free. And for good reason: In his hands, he clutched the prize the Emperor had been so anxiously awaiting. The Emperors' parched lips cracked a bit as a smile parted them, and he spoke with a voice that sounded like nothing so much as a child getting a present.

"Open it... show it to me!"

The Royal Guard gave a simple nod of his head and brought the bag up dramatically into the air. Were it anyone else bothering with theatrics such as these, they would be dead by now for prolonging it. But Lord Fire Blade knew just how to push his buttons, and it only made him more anxious to see the contents of the sack, regardless of the fact that he knew full well what was inside. Reaching one gauntlet-covered hand in, he slowly removed the bags contents, holding it high in the air for his Lord to see. The Emperor let out an uproarious laughter, filling the empty room with nothing but his dark delight. He held out his hands anxiously, like a child asking for candy, and Fire Blade obliged him by setting down the gift in his hands. Holding it up, so as to catch the light, the Emperor positively beamed at him.

"You will be rewarded very well for your service, Fireblade. Very well, indeed. You have brought me the head of the Jedi Boricua, as I requested. He has been a thorn in my side for far too long. Now, he is a mantelpiece. You have taken for yourself a place among my highest ranking. Rest assured: Your seat of power in the New Empire has long been reserved."

Wordlessly, the guard bowed to him.

"As always, I am in your servitude, Emperor Rane. Long live the Empire."

Retrieving a small, metal box from the side of his throne, the Emperor handed the decapitated head back to his servant, allowing him to open the lid with both his hands. As he did, a gust of cold steam issued forth from it. He motioned for Fire Blade to place it inside, and the Guard complied, carefully placing it in a sitting position within the box. Almost gleefully, the Emperor placed the lid back on top of it, pressing a few buttons on the side of the container. The portable carbonite freezer would preserve his trophy well. Just as he put the box back under his seat, the intercom on his armrest buzzed to life.

"Yes? What is it?"

He said, all signs of his good mood washed away. The voice announced that Lord Havok wished to see him. He grunted his approval and went back to conversing with Fire Blade, discussing payment for his great service. Minutes later, the door whooshed open once more, and this time the guards did not obstruct the man in dark robes from entering. He strode up without a word to the Emperor, kneeling on one knee.

"Rise, Lord Havok."

Complying, he stood straight up and was quiet.

"What is this news you bring me?"

"Sir, there is a small rebel uprising on the planet H..."

The Emperor waved his hand, obviously not caring.

"I have not the patience for such trivial matters. Wipe it out... painfully."

Havok nodded, turning to walk out. Before he could leave, however, the Emperor's voice commanded him to stop. He turned questioningly back to him.

"I have decided that I do not wish for you to deal with this. I am quite sure that such things are beneath you. Have the Smeep King handle this one."

Again, Havok nodded.

"It will be as you command, Lord Nupraptor."

<img src=http://nupraptor.clanhappy.com/emperorrane.jpg>

[The Lounge Lizard]

:: The Oozaru limped into orbit around the sixth planet of the Hoth system. Her once-powerful engines had been damaged beyond repair by countless Imperial attacks, her once-beautiful hull was speckled with pock marks from blaster fire. She showed wear and tear that made her seem aged. Inside, LL sat silently in his private chamber...power generator barely offering enough ambient light to work with. He had gotten the message two days ago. The rebellion would strike Hoth. The rebellion needed him. LL looked down at his drawer, and opened it. Slowly, and with a shaking hand, he pulled out a cyllindrical object...an object that had not been used in several years. It was his lightsaber. His hand clenched on the saber tightly, as LL fought back a flood of memories that rushed upon him. The loss, all the loss...and now he was coming back. Would it be enough...to set things right?

LL set the lightsaber on the table, and looked at himself in the mirror. It was true that he was getting older, but his face showed wear beyond years.

Even in seclusion, LL had been called by the title Master Jedi, but how long had it been since he was a leader of men? His padawan had long since gone to fight the Empire, ready to defend freedom to the last. LL did not know if he could ever call men to arms ever again.

LL stood up, and examined his Jedi robes. He fidgeted with the right sleeve...uneasy about its presence. It only dangled, a reminder that he had lost his arm to the Emperor who now loomed like a stormcloud over the galaxy's freedom. What would the men and boys whom he would lead do? What would they think...of the Jedi who was half a man?

LL closed his eyes, and let go of the useless sleeve, letting it once again dangle at his side. What would they think, indeed? He didn't even know what HE thought about this.

It had been so long.

The Oozaru began landing procedures, touching down in an ice cavern area on the sixth planet of Hoth. The gangway dropped, and LL stepped out...ready to defend one of the last vestiges of the rebellion ::

[Gormul Hyfe]

It is a place where few but the poor and crazy venture to. A place where noone without damn good reason would ever want to go. Deep down in the city of Coruscant, down through the constant layer of traffic spreading as far as the eye can see, down beneath the thick layer of smog that has spread out over the planets surface, down into the dark dirty streets of Coruscant, Gormul Hyfe, a young orphan boy lies motionlessly in the street. His face is pale and pain-stricken, shaded with only the smeared grime that is splotched all over his body. His clothes are tattered and worn, and he wears no shoes.

The boy lets out a slight groan, the look of pain that spreads across his face as he rolls over onto his right shoulder clearly evident. On the left side of his face, bruises can be seen, as well as a trickle of blood running from the corner of his mouth. But what seems to be the source of most of the boys pain is a blaster wound to his left thigh.

Life has been tough for Gormul living in the slums of Coruscant. Nearly impossible. And it looks to Gormul as if this may be the last draw.

Having been left alone, all alone, at the age of 15, Gormul has nothing to do, nowhere to go. Both parents dead, he has been stranded. His mother died last year of some horrible disease. Even when she was still around, things had not been much better. She had had no job, no way to bring in money. And now Gormul has no job either.

The only way for him to survive is by stealing, begging, and scavenging. Every day is a struggle to stay alive, and it looks to Gormul as if the struggle is finally coming to an end. As he lies there in pain, he cannot come to a decision of whether or not it's a good or a bad thing -- to be dieing, having the struggle ended.

He's got nothing left to live for... His only prized posession has just been stolen: his DL-18 blaster pistol. A weapon that was given to him by his father... before he left.

'Shot in the leg with my own damn gun...' Gormul thinks to himself as he shifts his weight of his right leg, cringing in pain.

For several minutes Gormul Hyfe lays there, totally motionless. Hundreds of thoughts race through his head as he lies on his back, staring up into the thick fog above him. The smell of his own charred flesh fills the air, not that the smell effects him that much, now that he has been living in these slums all his life. Tears begin to run down his dirty cheeks.

Finally Gormul comes to a decision. He will struggle to survive even yet. If for nothing more than to get revenge on those filthy punks that stole his blaster pistol.

He was going to get that damned gun back, and he was going to make those stinkin' heaps of bantha fodder pay...

[Lieutenant Ogre]

:: In an ice cavern located on the sixth planet of the Hoth system, Ogre inspected his gear and looked over his starfighter, Blue One. He knew that the time was soon coming when he would be called to face the Empire and he feared that this battle may be his last. Something deep within told him that things did not look good for him in the future, and seeing glimpses of the future had been something he had noticed he was able to do, since he was young.

Some had told him that he should use his natural talent and study the ways of the Force from a young age, but he had chosen to just be a regular citizen of his homeworld. That was until the day that his homeworld was invaded by the Empire, his fellow citizens enslaved for their corrupt needs. Ogre had managed to escape, but not after he saw his Father and Mother killed by stormtroopers, along with many of the others who had resisted the onslaught of the Empire.

Having managed to stow away on a small transport vessel, which the Empire overlooked, during the battle. He made his way into the regions of space beyond the small planet he called home, and during his wanderings he found out about a group of normal everyday people who had vowed to tear down the Empire, the Rebel Alliance. He managed to contact them and decided that he would join them in their cause, becoming a member of their ranks and receiving a great deal of training in the areas of marksmanship, subterfuge, and demolitions, as well as a healthy taste of pilot’s training. He had also, meet a Jedi master while allied with the rebels, one who had convinced him to begin training in the ways of the Force, but his training was cut short, as his Master had been lost in a great battle with the Emperor. Ogre believed him dead by the Emperor's hand.

As he looked over his craft, making sure that all the correct preparations had been made for its flight and battle readiness, he was surprised to hear the roar of an approaching craft, and he turned to see who it was as none of the small base’s alarms had gone off and no one seemed to pay any mind to the ship entering. He looked on as the ramp lowered and a weary yet strong looking man walked out of its hatch. Ogre could feel the power emanating from this individual and his confidence in the success of their struggle began to grow. At the distance he was away from him he was unable to recognize who it was but the aura he sensed was very familiar. ::

[Darth Turbogeek]

For every action, for every time of joy, there is is a time of sadness and anger. For the galaxy was a balance and either side rarely held reign over the other. To see the universe in a long view was to see neutrality, a balance. For those whose lives were but a fleeting beat compared to the eternal, balance was not a concept grasped easily. Especially in times of hardship and misery like these. Many would never know the times of the Republic, many would never taste freedom. The ones who remembered such would always tell of the times when Empires did not reign. Those who remembered the fire that was the Jedi and knew what they stood for. They however would not live forever and only words would remain.... and in time even they would be no more.

The majority of beings did not care. They only viewed the change from Republic to Emipre as just a change of governemt they cared little about. The Jedi were only legends and legends did not put bread on the table. Those like that would live their lives, live their day and die. It was the nature of things.

The years of the Jedi were not far in the past, but already some even questioned their existance. Technology was the Force they aspired to. They didn't believe in a "Force", only believing power came at the end of a blaster or the latest weapon. The Empire ruled by force and it's soldiers and special agents known as Sith could be seen in a visible power display. Terror was their weapon, a device they truly understood. The Force meant nothing to them. Men like Lord Fire Blade and Lord Havok could command with just a word, such was the fear and power that surrounded them. Ones like these were accored mysterious powers but of course for the rational mind, that was only stories of defeated enemies, making excuses for their defeat. Precious few knew the truth

--

The door was made out of steel, bolted hinges and massive locks. It was located deep in the building that was a psychriatric medical centre, one that treated the insane and mentally unstable. Howls and moans sounded in the corridors and the occasional drip of water could be heard. A lone warden shuffled down the corridor, checking doors for the night. A clank of a chain, a snap of a lock and another inmate was secured for the evening. A small glow panel on the door of this particular room told the legend of who was inside. For many years, this door was only for the brave to enter and rumours of the inmate by those who would not step inside abounded. Some said a murderer. Others said a retard.Still further said it was a secret the Empire wanted to make sure never saw the light of day, a failed cloning experiment kept alive for some reason no one could explain. Whatever it was, the few doctors who were admitted would not talk and even one human who looked after this inmate was sent insane himself, just fueling the rumours.

One who did have access was actually walking down the corridor now. The warden stooped and waited while the female approached and then stop in fromnot of the door.

"Good Evening Dr" the warden said

The red headed doctor turned. "Hello. I've come to run a check on the patient. Can yoou allow me access?"

"Sure thing. Wait a sec...". The warden withdrew a key and undid the mechanical lock. In this day of electronics, an anarchic mechanism, yet worked the most effectively to keep inmates in one place. She smiled and nodded her head in thanks as the heavy steel door was opened, to reveal a small anteroom and a second door, much like an airlock. She waited while the warden closed the outer door and then produced a security datapad. She plugged it into the security pad and the airlock slowly opened inwards. As per normal, the smell was the worst. Antiseptic and drugs mixed wtih human urine. She wrinkled her nose in disgust and stepped inside the room

It was well lit, fairly large, some gym equipment, a refresher and a bed. Also, there was a wheelchair and in it was a drooling man. He didnt acknowledge the new comer, didnt acknowledge anything, just stared at the wall opposite. No stimuli seemed to affect him, certainly not the touch of the needle as it pierced his arm and injected the 12 hourly dose of tranquilizers and drugs they used to keep this one sedated. The odd creatures kept in this room seemed to have a calming effect as well, which was just as well. She remembered some of the fits this human could throw, before they mlearned how to control him. Now, he spent his days either supervised on the gym equipment in a drug controlled mindless state or strapped to the chair or bed. She didnt know why the gym workouts also kept him calmer, maybe it worked off the energy he seemed to possess, all she knew he was the fittest person she knew, well muscled but still, a total loony. His case was rewriting textbooks.

She could see the drugs had now taken hod and some seblence of intelligence was in the eyes. It was only for the next three hours this man could comphrehend the world outside his body, only now he could itneract. Still, it was like talking to an unruly three year old and every bit as frustrating.

Dinner was first. He could sometimes eat unassisted and luckly tonight was one of those times, thankfully because she was in no mood to spoon feed this human wreckage age. He had already urinated on the wheelchair and she had to clean it up. And another, one of the odd salamader creatures seemed to have died. That was flagged as extremely important and to be reported imediatly. She just shrugeed and continued cleaning up the mess. It could wait a bit longer.

The food eaten and the supervised exercise time over, the inmate was setlled into his bed and strapped in without resistance. She gave the room one final check out, already forgotten about the dead creature that also just happened to be above the inmate bed. Instead her thoughts and her sight dwelled on his face. How long had he been here? Years? Certainly before the Great Purge that had eneded the Jedi, he would only have known the Jedi in the height of their powers. In some way it seemed appropriate. This Jedi, sent insane by some act before the Purge would outlive his fellows, never to know what happened. Sighing slightly, she turned the light off, certain all was secure.

She colsed the ineer door, withdrew her security pass and then went out the outer steel door. Nodding, the warden wandered over form a job he was doing and closed the door, locking it. She nodded thanks and left with out word.

The warden also left not long after.

The inmates name continued to shine on the door. The name of Turbogeek, inmate XR8 file marked no prospect of recovery and hence forever sentanced to be behind the steel door until he did everyone a favour and died.

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: LL struggled through the stinging blasts of cold air and the deepening snow drifts, making his way toward the rebel makeshift base. Before he reached his destination however, he saw someone approaching him. Someone familiar. Could it be... ::

Ogre...is that you?

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: As he got closer, he could tell for sure. It was Ogre. His young padawan. How long had it been since that terrible fateful day...three years? More? The battle that destroyed the galaxy's best hope of freedom and nearly destroyed LL had separated Master and Padawan...leaving one to fight on and champion the cause that he knew was right...and the other to spend his life on the run from the forces of darkness, and on the run from the wounds of his heart. A wave of emotions washed over LL's face. It was a day he thought would never come ::

[Lieutenant Ogre]

:: Ogre approaches the weary man, and as he gets closer, an expression of disbelief washes over his features. He thinks this must be some kind of illusion, brought on by the cold and isolation of this harsh planet’s climate. He blinks his eyes several times and looks back up to see that he is still there. Then he hears his Master’s voice speak his name, and that confirms that this is indeed a reality.

Ogre remains standing there in awe and disbelief, but manages to regain his senses enough to realize that LL left his ship outside the hanger, where it could be spotted by a probe flying overhead. He turns around and motions to some of the hangar attendants moving around behind him. They see his summons and head out to the Oozaru, with a docking truck and lift it from the snow and bring it back into the hangar, out of sight of prying eyes.

Ogre answers his Master. ::

Yes, but how is this possible? I thought you were dead at the Emperor’s hand.

[Sith Summoner]

OOC:I'm using this name for now... though when Ezboard finally decides to give me the other it will be Lt Commander Pax...

IC:
**Lt Commander Pax sits in his office on the sixth moon of the Hoth system... or at least what makes due as an office... Its been a long war for him... Promoted to Lt. Commander was not as joyous to him as it may have been to others... He got it after the deaths of the men and women who he had served under... now he had thier job... commanding for the most part a bunch of kids straight from the farm and into a c0ckpit... There used to be rules about how old someone had to be, how much training they had to have, etc, etc... now it was just finding warm bodies to fill the cold seats that could take them to their death... He hated his job... but the only way out was death... and that wasn't an option...**

**Pax was shaken from his thoughts by a knock on the door...**

Enter...

**A young ensign walked in... he was no older that 16 by the looks of it... "Where do they find these kids??? this one doesn't look old enough to drive a landspeeder let alone be in a uniform flying fighters..." he thought to himself...**

Yes what is it???

Ens: The Jedi Master has arrived sir... he is in the fighter bay right now with Lt. Ogre...

Thank you ensign...

**getting up Pax through on his worn and faded flight jacket... heading out to the fighter bay he passed many of the pilots... he still couldn't grasp the fact that at only 20 he was considered an old man to most of them...**

**Steping into the bay Pax spots the Jedi and Ogre talking... He heads over to introduce himself and to basically find out what he was here for... Stepping up to them Ogre snaps to a salute... Pax almost annoyed waves it off...**

What have i told you about doing that??? As if i didn't feel old enough with all these kids around...

**turning to LL...**

Welcome Jedi Master... I am Lt Commander Sumor Pax... I'd like to welcome you to what we call a base... though its not much...

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: Pax extends his right hand in greetings to LL, then catches himself, and realizes what he is doing. LL closes his eyes...his one glaring flaw ever apparent ::

Don't worry...its okay. I've learned to live with...or should I say...without it.

[Nupraptor]

The powerful kick connected with the side of the man's head, twisting it at an impossible angle and filling the room with a sickening crack. With little pause, his body fell to the floor with a hard thump, head crashing against the cold metal grating. In the throes of death, the man's hand clutched tightly around the practice sabre he had been using, only to release it after a few moments, letting it roll away. The blade withdrew silently back into it's cylindrical hilt, a silent testament of it's wielder's passing. With a sigh, the man's murderer pressed a button on his own lightsabre, allowing the purple blade to return from whence it came.

Nupraptor found that sparring partners died with such ease, recently. In fact, he had decided that they weren't even worth the trouble any more. But every time he ran the blade of his weapon through them, every time the neck of some worthless lackey snapped... it filled him with a perverse sense of pleasure. Quietly, he affixed his lightsabre to his belt clip, where it rested at all times when not in use. He raised one hand in the air, snapping his fingers as a sign to his guards to attend him. Immediately, they were by his side, holding his jet black robes out for him. Casually, he slipped into it, shrugging it into place and drawing his hood once again over his face.

"Remove that carcass from my sight. I will be returning to my antechamber, now."

Bending over, the Royal Guards retrieved the body and did as he commanded without a word. This, like everything else he ordered, was a part of their duty to the Empire. And, as per tradition, they were to never speak a word in his presence under the penalty of death. To speak an objection to one of his commands was a slow death. The Emperor walked with a steady pace through the halls of the Death Star, not even glancing to his side as all he passed kneeled in reverence of his awe-inspiring presence. Breaking through the gathered people, a single uniformed man approached him, a datapad in clutched his right hand. Whatever trivial new he carried, he had just sacrificed his life to bring it,

"My Lord..."

Stopping abruptly, he turned to face the fool who had interrupted him. Without a word, he brought up his hand in a gripping motion. The man panicked, even before his throat muscles began to contract on him, realizing his fatal mistake. Within a minute, a gurgle issued forth from his throat as he fell lifeless to the ground. All around him kept their heads bowed, terrified to so much as attract the Emperor's attention. His face still carved in a stoic mask, Emperor Rane continued on his way back to his throne room. The guards quickly bent and retrieved the additional body without need to be commanded, the one on the left retrieving the datapad he held.

Finally reaching the northern tower, the Emperor sat back down upon his metal throne and motioned for the datapad to be brought to him. The guard holding it complied and returned to his post by the chamber entrance. Using his thumb, he pressed a small button just underneath the screen, and displayed it's message for him. His eyes scanned the screen, reading the words slowly. With every sentence he read, his countenance grew darker. When he finished, he closed his hand around the small instrument, crushing it and sending wires and parts flying out. He cursed loudly, his words echoing off of the walls a hundred times over.

"His ambition will get him killed one of these days!", He declared angrily.

He could ill afford to waste his time with every petty Rebel uprising. Imperial forces occupied most every major planet within the majority of the systems. And, as such, things of this nature were far below his notice. He wouldn't even be concerned about the one on Hoth, were it not for a certain... feeling he got from it. Maybe even a premonition. But his apprentice seemed to concern himself far more with these trivial matters, and that certainly raised his ire. But he allowed him to go about these pursuits with relatively little punishment. He must learn on his own, and one can only learn by making those mistakes. With a sigh, he punched in a command in his armrest, and a hologram shakily appeared before him, ready to provide him with recent news.

"ZzzzzzZZzz... Navaria Tarken has returned from her mission. She wishes to speak with you."

He nodded his approval and listened as it continued to drone on with it's news. He gave his approval to send squads out to here and there, and ordered to have a few men killed... all barely noteworthy information that needed his say. However, one bit of information caught his attention.

"Good news, Sir. The Project is nearing completion."

Good new, indeed. The Project had been 6 years in the making. 'Nearing completion', however, meant several months, at best. Still, it was enough, for now. Punching another button to open an intercom link, he spoke, sending his commands to the bridge of the Death Star.

"Set course for Coruscant. We are to return to the seat of my power", he said simply.

Closing the link before they could reply with some drivel, he slid backwards into a comfortable position in his chair, closing his eyes in preparation for a largely needed rest. Within a minute, he had fallen asleep, and he began to dream.

------------------------------------------------------------

"One day, my son... one day, you will be as powerful as I am."

The Sith Lord held up the body of his former wife by her golden locks, her skin still flush. He had finally become fed up with her pathetic attempts to "protect" their son... his son, from learning the ways of the Sith. He knew that it could not be rushed, but it was becoming more trouble than it was worth to keep her out of his business. He married her not out of love, but rather, out of the desire to have her bear strong children. Even though she never was able to use it, she had great potential for the Force. He sensed this, and so he used her to acquire himself a son.

That son, at the moment, was standing, looking at his mother's corpse without so much as cringing, which pleased his father greatly. The Sith unhooked his lightsabre from the belt clip he wore and tossed the weapon with a casual grace to his budding student and son, who caught it with great ease.

"Now, Jeren... I wish for you to remove this filthy woman's head from her body for me."

"Yes, father. As you wish."

The child, no more than 10 years of age, looked at the weapon briefly before pressing the button on it's side, sending the blade of it blazing to life. His father had taught him for several years now how to use this weapon, and he was quite proficient with it, especially for someone of his age. A small smile creased his lips as he looked from his father to his mother's corpse. His father nodded approvingly, signaling the child to continue with his grisly task. Cooly, the young man walked up to the the body, drawing the lightsabre back in an arc like a bat. He made a powerful swing, twisting it towards the end. In a single strike, he removed the heads of both his mother and father from their shoulders. His father's face was forever frozen with a mask of shock at his son's betrayal.

<img src=http://nupraptor.clanhappy.com/emperorrane.jpg>

[Lilaena DeVille]

*Sitting where she was, the woman had an excellent view of the door. Which was the way she liked it. The table she sat at held a half dozen other beings. On her left there sat a Twi'lek, and on her right was a disfigured Rodian. They clutched their sabbac cards, and she coolly tossed a chit on the table. To the greasy human male across from her she explained* That's for my freighter, the Devil's Advocate. It more than meets your bet.

*The greasy haired man nodded in aproval, and the Rodian groaned in despair as it looked at its hand one more time. The betting increased until it was the greasy male's turn, and he threw down a small leather bag. The woman raised an eyebrow at it as the man tipped the contents onto the middle of the table. Sparkling fire crystals of various hues spilled onto the heap of credits, and one rolled towards De'Ville. She stopped it with one long finger, and picked it up. A very fine specimen indeed , she thought to herself. Replacing it on the pile, she looked at the man across from her. He stared back.

The dealer droid interrupted her concentration with its grating voice* Betting is over. Please now all players show their hands...

*The man turned his over. The Queen of Darkness, the Hangman and the Knave of Swords stared up at her, mocking her hand. She paid no attention to the others at the table. Their cards were of no concern to her. The Rodian stumbled away, clutching its belly before she even showed her hand.

The stringy haired man allowed himself to smile at the first card -the Dark Knight. A completely useless card in this paticular sabbac game. Then his smile dropped into a straight line, and then down to a frown. The Jedi Knight and the Lady of Lights stared up at the smoke blackened ceiling. He cursed mightily, and grabbed his blaster. The droid squeaked, and the Twi'lek and the other players dove for cover. The chestnut haired woman sat still, hands on the table. The man was shouting, but she paid him no mind. Her eyes were on his shiny red face. His black hair fell over his ears, and the blaster waved in her face. She did not blink.

His finger tightened on the trigger -- and the blaster exploded in his hand, spraying the bar with flying pieces of hot metal. He screamed, and clutched at his wrist and chest. His hand was shredded, and he stumbled back towards the door, blood spurting from a torn artery. A woman at the bar slumped over her drink, spilling it on the ground. The bartender lifted her head. A chunk of metal was embedded behind her ear. She was dead. Others around the sabbac table were injured, and pandemonium broke out. The Twi'lek signed something obscene with its lekku, and scurried out the door after the man.

The woman calmly gathered her winnings into her bag, and got up to leave. The dealer droid wheezed somthing unintelligable --shrapnel from the blaster had penetrated its casing, lodging in its primary circuits. She walked towards the door, stepping over the Rodian who was lying on the ground, bleeding from its leg.

Once outside, a man stepped into the neon light from the sign. He had a handsome face, perhaps a little too handsome, but he looked grim.* Lilaena, did you get them?

*Lilaena De'Ville turned to him, and for the first time a small smile tugged at the corner of her lips.* Of course I did. Now lets get off this rock, Coruscant is not my favorite planet.

*The two humans quickly made their way up from the lower levels of Coruscant just as a detachment of stormtroopers clattered in behind them, heading for the bar.*

[Lady Mara Jade]

At the edge of the Galaxy there is a small planet, it's name Kame (meaning desolate). This particular planet is one of the largest trade outposts in the quadrant. All needs can be served there, including but not limited to: Ships, Weapons, Spice and one other rare commodity...Slaves. The largest city is known as Desdemona, in it lives a very wealthy slave trader named Valdmar.

Fortune had smiled upon Valdmar this day and he had not planned on doing any selling this week however, he, out of pure luck managed to get his hands on a young group of girls from an extremely wealthy Hutt leader who recently died in his sleep under questioning circumstances. It had been rumored that a few of these "slave-girls" were used in fighting tournaments because of their resistance to normal slave duties around the Hutt's palace. These were the best of them, the one's who had survived the longest. Valdmar was beside himself with enjoyment and even considered keeping one of them for himself. For now though, it was time to earn his living.

The desert planet was terribly hot but Valdmar was a purest. No technology would aid him in his quest for power and wealth. The girls were carried in locked steel and wooden cages by imported Bantha's from a neighboring planet. Two girls per cart and each chained with iron shackles to keep them from managing an escape.

The second oldest of the group sat silently with her eyes shut, she had been a slave since childhood, her name was Illiana. The youngest at 13, who sat in the cart with Illiana, scraped her fingernails across the bottom of the cage and screeched repeatedly to Valdmar to release them. After nearly an hour of this Illiana opened her eyes and address the girl.

"Aleema..." The girl continued to shriek and began slamming her fists against the sides of the cage. Illiana grabbed the girl by the wrists. Aleema snapped back to attention. "Stop this now, you aren't accomplishing anything."

"How can you just sit there Ana?? We are going to be sold to another Hutt! I can't take it!" Aleema tore free from Illiana and threw herself violently against the side of the cage nearly forcing it to fall on it's side. "LET US OUT!"

Valdmar looked back at the wobbling cage and jumped off his bantha. He stormed toward the two girls then unlocked the back and pulled Aleema out by the chain around her neck throwing her to the ground.

"You pig! Do you have no soul?!" Aleema shouted, Valdmar answered not he simply took the whip from around his waist and swung it toward the child. Aleema flinched as she heard the sound of the whip crackle but to her surprise, felt nothing.

Illiana had emerged from the cage and caught the whip around her forearm. Valdmar looked at her in surprise.

"Ah, the Mara Jade look alike," Illiana looked at Valdmar showing in her expression that she had heard that many times before. Valdmar scowled. "Stand aside, the girl will get what is coming with her whether you are alive or not."

Illiana's eyes narrowed, "The girl is and always has been my student, I am responsible for her deeds." Illiana removed her hair from her back and took off her cape. Her outfit was already designed to leave her back exposed. Valdmar scowled at Aleema then walked behind Illiana.

"Looks as if this little one has caused you much trouble already," Said Valdmar as he looked at the several welts that were already across Illiana's back. Raising his arm he swung the whip down hard. She did not acknowledge the pain, not with a wince or even a blink of the eye. Aleema flinched as Valdmar swung the whip again, this time much harder. She looked back toward Illiana...still, no emotion. Valdmar growled then put his whip back on his belt and threw the two girls back into the cage. He then stomped back to the front of the caravan and continued the journey.

"Why did you not fight him?" Asked Aleema as tears ran down her face, "I know you could defeat him. You are stronger."

Illiana shook her head, "This man is different from the others."


<HR WIDTH="400" SIZE="4">

The crowd of buyers congregated around the large auction stage anxiously awaiting the arrival of Valdmar. Some of them new "customers" who had heard of him and come light-years to buy from him...others, satisfied customers who wanted more servants. All had one thing in common...they were extremely wealthy. The crowd fidgeted around and talked amongst themselves to pass the time.

"My friends!" Valdmar appeared suddenly, his arms wide spread and an almost charming smile across his face. "Welcome. Today I have a wonder crop for you. The feared 'Amazons!'" The crowd grew excited as Valdmar continued to speak. "Seven women, all conditioned in battle and extremely beautiful. Shall I bring the first one out?" The crowd roared in approval. Valdmar quickly retrieved the first girl, Miranda. She was a tall thin woman with short black hair. The eldest and the most beautiful of the group with absolutely no experience in fighting...but the crowd didn't know that. Several Corrilians and one Selonian battled for her. In the end the Selonian won and Valdmar was 50,000 credits richer.

"Let's bring out some more...shall we?"

[Darth Malice]

SSD Executor (0.5 light years from Taanab)

Admiral Andron Tarkin stood in the center of his bridge, not exactly smiling, but anyone looking at him couldn't help but see the glimmer in his eyes. This was the most thrilling time of any operation, when the almost palpable mixture of tension and excitement electrified the crew moments before launch.

He looked out one of the many viewports, taking a visual scan of the command ships against the backdrop of stars. The infamous Imperial Star Destroyer Retribution, home of the Scimitar Assault Wing and in many ways the key to the attack, floated to starboard. To port, the decidedly smaller but much coveted Victory II Dauntless gathered its skirmish line into formation. The small mynock in the big cave, Strike Cruiser Champion did its best to look impressive in the center of the attack and pursuit lines under its command, lined up directly ahead and above 200 km.

Tarkin turned toward a distant star, knowing that the Interdictor Rampart and the Imperial III Star Destroyer Victorious awaited orders three systems away, the latter probably feeling out of place serving under another flagship.

"Admiral," a crisp voice sounded from the crew pit. Captain Lars looked up from the comm array, a look bordering on confusion with a hint of worry on his face.

"Report," Tarkin urged as he descended the short metal stairs.

"We have a priority message from Imperial Center. New orders."
"What? Now?"
"Yes, sir. They're ... not addressed to you."

In unison, Captain Lars and Admiral Tarkin turned toward the front of the bridge. Across the deck, a menacing figure draped in black cloak and armor stood in silence, his back to them as he gazed into the cold emptiness of space. The officers exchanged looks, both knowing what the other was thinking from long experience of this routine. But other times involved only messages, These were clearly marked 'Orders', meaning they could have originated from only one man.

Tarkin held out his hand for the datapad.

Tarkin marched briskly toward the central viewport, stopping behind the dark man. He dared to clear his throat, pausing respectfully before formally announcing himself. "My Lord ... we received a priority message coded for you personally."

The legendary icy blue Tarkin eyes lost a hint of temperature when the man turned to face him. He held out his hand, entering an encryption key into the datapad passed to him. Blue eyes of a softer hue but far more instensity darted over the scrolling data. The black clad man smirked as he handed the datapad back.

"We are to rendezvous with the Chaos fleet in the Hoth system once Tanaab is secure." The Dark Lord's chilling voice held the slightest tinge of annoyance. "Intel has confirmed another Rebel base there and we are to provide support."

Tarkin's face betrayed his incredulous reaction to the message. This assault was months in planning, ever since Tanaab's support of the Rebellion had been confirmed shortly after their planetary fleet suddenly blossomed. He had been sending regular reports that entire time, all the while assuming none of them had come within a kilometer of Emporer Rain.

"The request originated from Smeep King," the Dark Lord interjected, bringing Tarkin out of his train of thought. The Admiral returned his focus to the other man, not even flinching at feeling that his mind was being read. "Our priorities have not changed. Signal the Victorious. You may launch when ready."

Darth Malice, Dark Lord of the Sith, apprentice to Lord Nupraptor, and second in command of the Galactic Empire, turned his gaze back to the stars as Admiral Tarkin left to relay the orders. To him the air of tension and excitement of the crew was tangible. He could not help but smile as both levels began to rise.

[Darth Malice]

Behind Lord Malice, Captain Lars relayed that the attack had begun. The Victorious and Rampart would soon be in position and the countdown to their own launch had begun. Malice's eyes shifted to another star, the most distant he could find. At the moment another Rebel cell was to be decimated by the Thrawn Maneuver, he couldn't help but wonder how its author was enjoying wild space.

The Dark Lord stared out into the void, his deceptively soft eyes growing a harder edge to them as he turned this new development over in his mind. The Smeep King probably took great pleasure in bringing the Taanab operation to his master's attention so that he could go over Tarkin's head ... just to goad him with those proposterous orders. And the Sith wonder why they fall so long ago.

But in the here and now, the Sith were far from extinct. Though in smaller numbers, they stood more powerful than ever. The power of the dark side had won. With that thought, Malice's mind rolled back over the years in service to the true power of the Force, years spent reclaiming a life the Jedi tried to deny him, years building a new life and discarding the lie he had been.

It was Palpatine who first showed him the truth. The deception of the light side was that it blinded you with its glare, trying to deny you the power of the darkness. Why else would the self-proclaimed noble and just manipulate him into betraying his own father? The first to try to corrupt him had kept him the prisoner of a shallow excuse for a life, keeping him from his destiny. And then at the moment that he struck down the old fool and stood at his first master's side ... his father was somehow consumed by the false light, destroying the reunion and forcing the prodigal son to slay him as well.

At that moment, the universe opened up to him.

Three years ago, the final trial was passed. The fire in Darth Malice's eyes danced at the memory of the day that he executed his sister with his father's lightsaber and put her corpse on public display.

"Two minutes to hyperspace jump, Admiral."

Malice broke from the pleasant visual to more pressing matters. Namely the destruction of the rebellion. He frowned again as he was reminded of the orders from Lord Nupraptor. His Master had made it clear on too many occassions that the running of the military was beneath his notice. Long ago had he given up on trying to convince him of the threat of the Alliance.

For twenty years they had perservered. Despite crippling defeats time and time again -- at Yavin, Elrood, Alderaan -- still they rose from the ashes. He hated to admit the respect he had for the rebel scum, but their tenacity would make anyone but Palpatine himself proud ... or Nupraptor if he bothered to notice them. And so he had taken the task upon himself to deal with them.

And deal with them he would. The smile returned to his face as he felt the soothing building of tension in harmony with the whine of the ship's hyperdrive motivator. The starlines receeded, and in the next instant, the fleet vanished from sight.

[Dara Shadowtide]

In Deep Space:

:: Dara sits in the command chair of her ship, the Obliterator and gazes out of the window. It has been some time since her father passed away. She had barely escaped but her father was not as fortunate. He perished and she forever lives with the scars and damage from her mysterious attackers. Her body suit accommodates her health issues quite well and she hardly notices she is even wearing it any more.

The skills her father first taught Dara have taken another path, a more lucrative path of destruction. The smuggling career had enabled her to meet a lot of new contacts and had served well to start her new business. A smile comes to her face as she glances over at the safe which holds a considerable amount of credits now after her most recent job. Capturing her subjects was alright, but nothing matched the pure adrenaline rush of a paid kill.

Her Bounty Hunter Guild was doing very well and she had been able to establish a reputation of deadliness throughout many star systems. She could hardly keep up with the contracts being issued on various lifeforms and had been out recruiting the best in the galaxy to join her guild. She sees a backlog of incoming transmissions and hologram messages, and turns her attention to cataloging them into priority and monetary gain order.

She pauses when she comes across a contract put out by Emperor Rane. This high security encrypted transmission had some rather high profile names involved and it made Dara wonder what exactly was going on. She rises from her chair, lost in thought as she walks across the short distance of the ship to sit at the table. The onboard service droid brings her drink to her just after she is seated. The remains of the last service droid are still piled in the corner from the lady bounty hunter's termination of it's faulty service.

She runs her finger around the rim of the drink as she contemplates her order of business. Perhaps things are not as they seem. Dara needs to find out more about the job that Emperor Rane has before she can make a final decision. She rises from the table and walks to the comms desk to send an encrypted transmission to Emperor Rane ::

Greetings Emperor Rane. I see that the Empire is doing very well and I trust it is because of your fine leadership as always. I would like to discuss a business proposition at your earliest convenience. I believe we can come to a mutual agreement of terms indeed. I await your transmission regarding a meeting. Farewell.

:: Dara takes a deep breath after sending the transmission and gazes out into space ::

"They can run, but they cannot hide. For the right price, I can find anyone, anywhere."

:: Dara smiles ::

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: LL and Pax speak their greetings, then Ogre quickly brings LL aside, anxious to know what has happened ::

Ogre: Master...I, um...I thought you were dead. We all did.

:: LL walked to a table, and asked Ogre if he wanted to sit. Ogre agreed, and moved to help LL. The Jedi Master put his hand on Ogre's arm gently but firmly, and smiled weakly. ::

LL: Ogre, I appreciate your concern for me, but I can take care of myself. I still have one good arm. Don't think of me any differently.

:: Ogre looked down at his feet, aware that his actions were hurting LL's feelings. He looked up, smiled, and sat down. LL did the same ::

Ogre: So master, what happened, well...you know...that day?

:: LL stared off into space ::

LL: I would be lying to you if I didn't play it over and over again in my head. I suppose...it was all my fault...

~~flashback~~

:: LL and Emperor Nupraptor stared at each other from behind the blades of their lightsabers. Both combatants were poised in the awe-inspiring lethal dance...on the tip of victory or defeat. ::

LL: I will defeat you, Nupraptor...and your Empire will be at an end.

Nup: We shall see about that...foolish Jedi. There are many things...many things indeed....that you assume.

~~flashback~~

LL: He was right. I always assumed I would win. That I, the heroic Jedi, would always be the vanguard of peace and justice, and that no evil would ever bring about my downfall. There are a lot of words I used to describe the feeling...but evaporate all the adjectives away, and it was simply arrogance. I had become so sure of my power that the thought of my defeat was not even considered before that day.

~~flashback~~

:: Nupraptor swings his lightsaber at LL violently. The Jedi Master brings his saber up in a single-arm block. The two combatants exercise their sway, as the crackling energy blades pitch forwards and backwards, in a violent tug of war.

Suddenly, Nupraptor grins, and twists his saber. The pitch of the angle of force causes LL's saber to turn. Unable to compensate, LL locks his wrist, and the stop in motion causes his lightsaber to fly from his hand. LL looks at the Sith Master in shock. ::

LL: Impossible!

:: Nupraptor flicked his wrist, and his lightsaber slashed LL across the left side of his face. The Jedi blinked hard to keep the blood from blinding him. ::

Nupraptor: Bah! Nothing is impossible. Stars die, Empires fall...Heroes lose. Your sun is setting, Lounge Lizard. The dawn of my Empire begins with your end.

:: LL calls the his lightsaber with the force. The saber flies toward LL's outstretched hand. Just as LL triumphantly catches his blade, Nupraptor brings his lightsaber down, slicing LL's right arm off at the shoulder. The pain causes LL to collapse onto his knees ::

LL: Aaaaaaaaaaggghhh.....uuuhhhhgggg.....aaaaahhhh!!

Nupraptor: You see, Jedi...there will be no storybook ending here. Prince Charming will not ride into the sunset. Your end is here...at my hand. Now...meet your destiny.

:: LL's eyes widen. No...NO! Not like this! How? LL is supposed to win. LL never even thought that he could lose.

LL looked at his severed arm....NO! The impossible was happening. LL stretched out with the Force. It wasn't just him. The Republic was losing the battle. His forces were being scattered. No....NO...NOOOOOOO!!!!

LL looked at Nupraptor, his eyes wild...like Alice in Alice in Wonderland...not knowing up from down. How had this happened? How?

Nupraptor switched his saber off, placing it by his side. With a sneer, he raised his hands in a contorted fashion. He laughed evilly. ::

Nupraptor: Now die for me, Jedi.

:: Nupraptor let loose an onslaught of Force lightning, striking LL to the core. The Jedi spasmed and quaked at the blast, writhing in pain. Everything was falling apart. His world was collapsing around him. Nothing seemed right.

In his destitude and loneliness...he could think of only one solace.

Leia.

Against the crippling pain...against the odds...and against everything combined that had ever stood in his way, LL called upon the Force, and carried his mind through it.. ::

LL: ~LEIA....HELP ME....PLEASE!~

:: Seconds seemed like days...minutes seemed like years. An eternity passed, and LL tasted pain like newborn babies taste the world for the first time.

Eventually Leia arrived, as did LL's padawan, Ogre. ::

Leia: Ogre, we've got to get him away from LL!

Ogre: Yes, I know. I have an idea!

:: The massive Ogre called upon the force, and extended a hand toward Nupraptor. A powerful pressure wave reverberated from Ogre...the magnitude of the force push lifting Nupraptor off his feet, throwing the Sith against a wall. In a second, Ogre leapt upon him, clashing sabres with the Sith. Using the distraction, Leia ran to the injured LL, and lifted his shoulders off the ground. ::

Leia: LL, can you walk?

LL: Y..y...yes. Thank you....L-Leia...

:: LL looked needingly into Leia's eyes...a look that almost broke her heart. She noticed his arm, and fought back a wave of sadness for him.

Ogre...still fighting Nupraptor...turns and yells to Leia. ::

Ogre: LEIA...GO! GET HIM OUT OF HERE!

:: Leia helped the weak LL to his feet, and she spirited him away as fast as she could, to her personal ship. Ogre retreated soon after. Both made a fighting withdrawal, shooting attacking stormtroopers left and right, in a desperate escape. Somewhere in their fleeing, they were seperated ::

~~end flashback~~

Ogre: I never saw you again...I feared the worst. I thought you died.

LL: No...both Leia and myself escaped that day. Many did not.

Ogre: You are right. Our losses were enormous...and it only got worse from that day.

LL: I know.

Ogre: So where is Leia? Didn't you say she was expecting a child before the war started? Did you leave her behind to raise your chil...

:: A solitary tear fell from LL's face...stopping Ogre in mid sentence. Other than the tear, LL's face remained unchanged ::

LL: Leia is dead.

[Navaria Tarkin]

"So far the mining operations are running at peak status, Moff Dagarin. Hopefully our supply ships will be fully loaded within the next quarter," the middle-aged advisor said as he passed the datapad over to the Moff. All of the advisor's were present at the monthly meeting in the capitol city of Ariana. These meetings held great importance as the Garos sector was the breadbasket of the New Empire.

The Moff placed a hand on his chisled chin as he looked over the information, "These numbers look good, but last time there was a problem. I don't need this next convoy late. Too many mistakes and people are going to wonder about us."

He tosses the datapad across the table and raises his hand in a gesture to speak again, but his eyes divert from his advisors to the sound of the doors to the meeting room opening. The other six pairs of eyes follow the Moff's just in time to see the double doors swing open.

Normally, the guards would follow a visitor into the room to announce who they are and what their business pertains to, but this person needs no such formalities. The sounds of heavy boots echo in the now silent room as the demure woman, dressed all in black, enters. Her hands are folded behind her back and she surveys the room with her icey blue stare. She lets her aura of fear creep into each person present as she burrows her eyes into those reflected back at her. Half-smiling, she watches them rise and bow to her, knowing what is on the surface of their minds.

They know that someone is going to die, for wherever she goes, death is never far behind.

Finally, Moff Dagarin has the courage to speak up. He knows that she is waiting for him to address her. "Lordess Tarkin, we are honored by this surprised visit."

With a wave of her hand, she dismisses him, "You can dispense with the pleasantries Dagarin. I'm here for a reason that I know you're all aware of. I think that you were even mentioning it. To many mistakes and people might wonder? To paraphrase of course." Her chilling smile sends a shiver down the Moff's spine as he tries to find the right words to defend himself.

Navaria finds the Moff ammusing as he is too scared for a rebuttal. "Please, have a seat. All of you." Everyone does so and quickly, knowing that was an order and not a suggestion.

She walks around the table to her right slowly, stopping behind each person seated as she speaks. "Now, as to why I'm here." A few people fight off the urge to gasp, others have all the blood drain from their face as they dread what is to come next. Surprisingly, Dagarin is calm and collective as he sits patiently in his chair, his eyes never straying from the Sith Lordess.

"Through much digging, I have surmised an official from this world has been supplying a small Rebel Cell with New Empire resources. The late convoys didn't strike me as odd so much, it what was missing on those shipments that did."

A rather bold advisor decides to interject from across the table, "Our people would have told us of any ... urk!" His sentence is cut off as his throat constricts, his air now taken away from him.

"Who told you that you could speak? This...is your only warning. Clear?" The man nods his agreement and she lets go of the hold. As he slumps to the table, she continues like nothing is wrong. The others stare at her in fear and one person unconsciously brings a hand to cover his throat, all dreading that they could be next. "Now, where was I? Ah, yes! Each shipment had very small amounts of food that was missing. No one would have bothered noticing it unless someone did a thorough investigation. I did, and found the trail leading straight back here."

She now stands behind Dagarin and places both her hands on his shoulders in a reasurring gesture. His muscles tense up on reflex but then relax as he turns his head up to look at her as she speaks. "I despise Rebel sympathizers in The New Empire as should you all." Her right hand moves off from the Moff's shoulder and her lips curl in a snear for those that can see. "Loyalty is everything and the ones that aren't will be culled."

The sound of a lightsabre shocks the people back into awarness as gasps and yelps of horror fill the room. The two closest adviors push out their chairs as the red beam hums before them. Their eyes follow the length of the blade to the center of Dagarin's chest and jerk in fear as the blade is deactivated and the Moff's dead body falls foward, his head thumping off the table.

Navaria clips her sabre back onto her belt and walks back around the table from which she came, "Now, since there is a positon open, it needs to be filled. Millar, rise."

Konnar Millar stares at Dagarin's body with wide eyes and it takes a few seconds to realize that she spoke to him. He quickly pulls his chair out and stands, bowing before her, "Yes, M'Lord?"

"Congratulations, Moff Millar. Do your best to bring honor and loyalty to The New Empire with your promotion." She turns to address all present, "And with that honor and loyalty will bring great wealth and power to those that prove it."

She eyes everyone once more with her cold blue eyes and then turn on her heal. She passes the last two advisors on her way out and lets the double doors close by themselves as she exits.

A FEW DAYS LATER ON THE DEATHSTAR

She walked quickly down the hallway, heading to the throne room of her Master, Lord Nupraptor. She sent a communication that she would be boarding soon and to let her Master know of her arrival. Navaria already knew that she was expected and once her shuttled landed, her only purpose was to come before her Master.

Finally she reached the entrance of the throne room and the doors slide open. The guards did not stop her for they were made aware that she was coming. Her quick strides down the black carpet led her to the beginnings of the stairs where the Emperor's throne was raised. She drops to one knee at that point and places a fist to her chest in respect, waiting patiently for her Master to address her.

[Lieutenant Ogre]

Hoth System

He hears the final words of his Master and looks forward at him in disbelief, his mind momentarily drifting back to a time when she was still alive.


Corellia: Three years previous. At that time, the current location of the main facility used to train the Rebels. It was here that Ogre had met the famed Jedi Master, Lounge Lizard, and it was here that his training to learn the ways of the Force had begun. He was only 14 years in age when he first joined up with the Rebels, but he appeared older to most that he meet, as not many had known of his race. His homeworld was a place located at the furthest edges of the outer rim, a small insignificant planet called Kashir, now one of the many worlds, whose population was put into service as slaves by the Empire.

They were four and a half months into his training when LL had requested that Ogre construct his own lightsaber. Ogre had studied the one, which his Master had lent him to use until this day, knowing that this time would come.

He sat at a table in the main mess hall, with various pieces of metal strewn across it. There was also a power cell, an emitter, and several focusing lenses laying before him. He spent all morning fashioning the casing, making sure that its weight and balance were perfect and that it fit well in his hand. He had taken a short break from his task when lunchtime arrived, but remained in the same place, pushing aside his half eaten meal and returning to it, while everyone around ate and conversed with their comrades.

While working on setting the emitter, the crystal and the focusing lenses, Ogre heard a familiar voice from behind. It was the voice of the one wed to his Master, Leia.

Leia: “It looks like you are coming along well in your training. I see my husband has asked you to construct your own saber. Truly a sign that you are doing well, when you reach that point in his training regiment.”

Ogre: “Yes, he said that I was strong enough now in the ways of the Force, that I would be able to do this and also that I would become one with my weapon, having built it myself, connecting to it as if it were an extension of my own arm.”

Leia placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it warmly in encouragement, before she dismissed herself, so that he may finish what he was doing. Bearing a determined expression, Ogre spent another four hours finishing what he had set out to do before breakfast that day. He raised the completed saber up in front of himself, holding it in a combat ready grip.

He thumbed the activation switch with a small fluid motion, and the dark blue blade erupted with a hissing noise. Ogre had become familiar with the sound over the last few months, having been training extensively with his borrowed saber. The training saber still hanging from his belt, Ogre stood and swung his new one before him, pleased with how well it conformed to his hand, and how easily it glided through the air.

Blinking his eyes, Ogre shook off the recollection he had just experienced, and focused on his Master, his own eyes heavy with grief.

“Ho…………………How did it happen?”

[Lt Commander Pax]

**after greeting the Jedi Master Lounge Lizard Pax had returned to "office" to do some paperwork... why he had to do this even though everyone knew that noone would ever read it he didn't know... but it did keep his mind off of other things... and maybe that is the reason... he didn't care... it was part of his routine... just another thing to do when he wasn't leading his pack of children into battle... and the it came again... that urgent knock on the door...**

Come...

**In walked the same ensign that had brought news of LL's arrival... he rushed forward and handed Pax a datapad and then rushed out just as quickly... Pax read the pad... a silent curse escaped his lips as he read it for a second time... this was definately not good news... and although the Alliance was smaller than they once were... they still had an amazing ability to come up with accurate information... and if they were right Hoth was about to get very busy... Getting up and walking out of his office and out into the acting command center... he picks up the mike to the base comm system and starts speaking...**

Your attention please... This is Lt. Commander Pax... this is a priority alert... All senior officers and jedi masters to the meeting room for a briefing... All other personel begin preperations for an emergincy evac... this is not a drill... I repeat this is not a drill...

**with that he put down the mike and watched for a sec as the anxiety level in the entire complex escallated to a hectic pace... then he turned and headed for his office to get some data pads for the briefing...**

[Lilaena DeVille]

Standing in a turbolift, Lilaena patted the satchel she had thrown casually over her shoulder. The man standing beside her smiled. "Pleased?" He winked at her.

She felt herself blushing. Darven always had a way of bringing out the thirteen year old girl in her. She leaned her slim body against his, and looked up into his blue eyes. So blue, like the seas of Mon Cal... "I am that." She wrapped her arms around him, fingering his black silk shirt. "When we get off this bloody planet, I'll let you know how pleased I am..."

He looked down at her, and kissed her passionately. She melted into his arms, and returned the embrace with abandon. The 'lift slowed, and the doors swished open, revealing the crowded upper levels of Imperial Center.

The couple walked hand in hand out of the 'lift, brushing past government officials and civilians alike, heading for the docking bay where the freighter Devil's Advocate was berthed. Suddenly a Twi'lek male stood in front of them, pointing and screaming something unintelligable. Lilaena barely recognized the sabbac player from the bar, but the white armored troopers rattling towards them were unmistakable. She dropped Darven's hand, and pulled her blaster free of its holster; she was barely aware of Darven doing the same. They started running, and someone shouted at them to stop. Time seemed to slow down.

A woman shrieked, and crumpled to the ground as a blaster bolt passed through her chest. Her diplomatic robes were soaked with dark red blood, and she twitched as Darven leapt over her, firing into the group of stormtroopers behind him. Lilaena rolled on the ground, knocking over two ensigns in the uniform of the Imperial Navy. They cursed and toppled slowly as she came up on one knee, crouching behind their falling bodies. She carefully squeezed off three shots into their pursuers. Two troopers fell, breastplates smoking, another was spun around when the bolt hit his arm.

Lilaena was on her feet again, chasing after Darven who was blazing a path for them out of the crowd. The people around them were so caught up in their own business that they didn't notice what was running towards them until it was too late. Lilaena caught up with Darven, and shot a lieutenant off his back. The bolt intended for Darven went wild, shooting high into the ceiling. Plaster and chunks of duracrete fell, one grazing De'Ville's arm. She bit her lip, and pulled her arm in towards her as she ran.

The crowd was nearly gone, and Darven and Lilaena were very close to the landing bay, and their freighter. It was berthed under the designation Lady Destiny, in section 2841-8RK. Darven reached in his pocket for his comlink. As they shot up a last flight of stairs into the open air high above anything that could be called real ground, he activated the remote. Mechanics and techs scattered as the freighter groaned into life. Lilaena, still clutching the satchel, looked behind again. Stormtroopers were emerging from the stairwell, and she noticed the turbolift was opening as well. She blasted the controls to the 'lift, freezing it closed.

As the freighter pulled itself off the duracrete, Lilaena tripped. She fell sideways, hands flying out to catch herself. Darven cursed and turned back to her, blaster bolts flying thick through the air. Lilaena barely noticed the Devil's Advocate's starboard guns firing into the troopers, as Darven knelt beside her, yanking her to her feet. As he did so, a blaster bolt caught him high in the chest, and his shoulder jerked back. He grunted, and as Lilaena reached out for him his knees folded up underneath him. Eyes wide with shock, Darven fell back to the duracrete, staining it with his blood. She screamed.

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!"

Time froze -- she was reaching down to him, the satchel dropped from her hands, credits spilling out in a shiny waterfall around Darven. His eyes rolled up in his head, and she grabbed his hand which was still raised in the air. He squeezed her hand, and she was surprised to find tears running down her face. He looked behind her, and Lilaena saw the freighter hovering there, ramp extended. The starboard weapons were keeping the troopers at bay for the moment. Darven gasped, blood bubbling up at the corners of his mouth. "Go..." Lilaena shook her head, and clutched his head to her breast. Grabbing his blaster, she killed two more stormtroopers with deadly accuracy. Darven was trembling in her arms, then he stopped moving. Lilaena looked in his face and saw he was dead. She bent in and kissed him on his mouth, then hurriedly gathered up as many of the spilt credits as she could.

Leaping to her feet she screamed at the troopers as they advanced with trained precision. Lilaena De'Ville ran up the ramp of The Devil's Advocate, slamming her hand into the controls as she raced to the @#%$pit. The freighter groaned as she pulled it into the sky, activating the shields and punching coordinates into the navicomputer. There were still tears running down her face, and she wiped them away with a trembling hand. Looking down she saw that her shirt was stained with Darven's blood. She could taste the iron in her mouth, and she spat vehemently on the floor. The comm was squeaking at her, some underpaid offical was telling her to cease and desist, but she ignored him.

Ahead of her was a transport, probably heading for Selonia by the looks of it, and she flew after it, gaining speed rapidly. She would never get through the planetary shield by herself, but... As the transport neared the shield she pulled the Advocate in behind it, just underneath and to the left. The shield went down, and she punched it, throttling for a distant star. TIE fighters were pouring out of a SSD, and she held her breath as she pulled farther away from Coruscant. Relief swelled up as the starlines thickened and melded into the saftey of hyperspace.

She looked out the transparisteel window, and collapsed in her chair, sobs racking her slight frame. Her foot touched the satchel at her feet, and she reached down and rumaged through it. A small metal box of unknown origin met her hand, and she pulled it out. She could not open it, the Twi'lek who had lost it had said something about only the Force could be used to open it. Lilaena sighed. The people who had paid her to retrieve this three by seven by two inch box had not given her enough. "Darven..." She buried her face in her hands, drawing her knees up to her chin.

The Devil's Advocate raced onward, heading for the Hoth system.

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: as LL was about to tell Ogre what happened to Leia, Pax's voice over the intercom boomed. Now was not the time for conversation. ::

LL: Hmm...I guess that means us. Lets go to the conference room, and find out just how bad this situation is.

:: LL gets up from the table, and him and Ogre walk hurriedly towards the conference room. All around them, the air is alive with tension, as men are hard at work...preparing for the inevitable storm that was sure to come...and come soon ::

[Venom]

The last defender died as the Pike speared his spine and I saw the life leave his eyes.....

Finally, after a 7 week war, the Black Hand had won. I stood up, allowing my massive form to extend to its full 250 cm height and with a massive cry as I saw the final surrender.....

"BYSS IS OURS!"

[Darth Malice]

Taanab

"Your fleet has become quite impressive Chancellor. This relationship with your new allies must be profitable indeed."

Admiral Needa's voice carried only subtle hints of sarcasm, but his dry statement of facts still had the desired offsetting effect. The normally tranquil green planet sitting below the Victorious had jumped to life seconds after the Imperial battle squadron had come out of hyperspace 100,000 km away. The precision and efficiency of their response suggested trained pilots in those new ships as well, not your fresh from the mill farmers.

The activation of the planetary shield was quite spectacular as well, definitely the wrong way to welcome guests.

"Both Empires, new and old both, left us alone to fend for ourselves for half a century--."

Needa cut into the transmission, silencing the hologram of Taanab's elected leader. "You no longer have to worry about that, Mr. Chancellor. You will lower your shield immediately and prepare to receive a garrison under the command of Moff Kosh Tiel. We will see to your defense needs."

"You have no right to do this. It's not a crime to protect our own home--."

"No but treason is." The flat statement again had the desired affect as the panic in the man's face could be seen even in the hologram.

He tried to respond, something about charity work to systems in need. Needa simply frowned. "Oh don't act so surprised, Your Honor. You weren't on any mercy mission this time. You are a rebel sympathizer and a traitor. This is your final warning. Lower your shield."

"You have no right to--." The Admiral straightend his posture and waved a hand across his throat. The hologram died.

Admiral Needa watched through the main viewport with satisfaction as a squadron of starfighters launched and the command frigates moved into attack formation.

[The Smeep King]

"Is everything in order, sir?"

Bridge Ensign Gabriev nervously wiped a hand across his brow, clearing away the fine sheen of sweat coating it. A young man, barely in his twenties, he never understood why they always seemed to choose him to speak with the higher ups. He nearly soiled his uniform the last time that they ordered him to bring word of a lost squad to Lord Havok. And, although this wasn't bad news in any way, the young ensign was even more terrified of the creature that had it's back turned towards him. 'Imposing' was simply not the word for the eight-foot monstrosity that stood before him. Nervously, and against his better judgment, he looked around the room that served as the creature's living quarters, awaiting it's response. Normally, he did everything in his power to avoid entering this room, and he knew he wasn't the only one. The holograms projected across all of the walls were genuinely disturbing, and the knowledge that that was their intention didn't serve to lessen the effect.

Stacked upon one another were bodies, horribly maimed in various forms of death. Dismembered limbs were piled upon disfigured heads, and with the occasional torso was spilling it's holographic guts onto the floor. He had to struggle not to be sick, fighting back waves of nausea. Turning his attention back to the figure before him, he tried to block out his surroundings. Still, he heard no response. Gabriev was about to speak up again, although fearing to disturb the commanding officer if he was busy.

Just as he opened his mouth, he was silenced by a sharp crack that rang through the air, causing him to flinch. There was a thump, and he could see the body that hit the floor, it's head laying a few feet away from the rest of it. Gabriev had the strongest desire to simply run out of the room right that moment, and was even considering it, as the figure spoke up. His voice was of the deepest pitch he could imagine, and it rumbled through the room shaking the young man to his bones.

"Yes, I do believe that we are ready to depart. Please have someone come and remove this body from my quarters."

"Sir?"

"A rebel pilot we caught flying a little too close to one of our ships."

The man nodded without a further word, hurrying out of the room as fast as he could while attempting not to look panicked. He failed pretty horribly. He was going to need another clean pair of undergarments. Crossing his arms behind his back as the boy ran out, the Smeep King began to silently chuckle to himself, his shoulders rising and falling with laughter. Turning around, his black robes sweeping around in the air, he looked down to his chair, which was pushed into the kneehole of his desk. Silently scraping against the carpeted floor, the chair pulled from the desk, apparently of it's own will. Removing his arms from behind his back, Smeep sat down in the chair, scooting forward a few inches and surveying the computer read out projected before him. The irony of that young fools situation was that he didn't have to enter the room at all: the read out could tell him that much. Someone was having fun at that simpleton's expense, which seemed to happen often when Smeep was around. It didn't bother him in the least. He shared many qualities with the Emperor that he served under, particularly his love for the fear of others. It was such a powerful emotion to invoke, one which tasted so sweet to him.

leaning over just a bit, he pressed a button on the tabletop, opening a link to the bridge. With as few words as he needed, he told the commander of the ship to prepare the fleet for the jump to hyperspace. In return, he was informed that it would take a couple minutes to prepare. With a grunt, Smeep closed the connection and sat back in his chair, reclining just a tad.

************************************************** **********

The Smeep King opened his eyes as he sensed there approach on the Hoth system, and sure enough, within moments, they dropped out of Hyperspace. Slowly, he reached out his hand to the drawer in his desk, sliding it open to reveal the only contents held within: a long, slender, metallic cylinder. Removing it from it's temporary holding place, he stood, pulling back his robes so that he could attach it to his belt clip. Walking out of his quarters, he strode over to the turbolift, which he took to the Bridge. As he strode down the long walkway to the head of the bridge, he could feel the nervous glances of more than half the crew looking his way. The other half were purposefully not looking his way. Something was most definitely wrong. As he neared the end of the walkway, a Lieutenant hesitantly took a few steps towards him, indicating that he wished to speak. Smeep acknowledged him with a nod.

"Sir... one of our Victory Class Star destroyers has been... delayed."

Growling, the Smeep King spoke. "And what is the cause? Explain."

"Well, sir... they've been having trouble making the jump to Hyperspace. It looks like they're going to be l..."

The lieutenant paused as one of the other uniformed men apporached him, whispering in his ear. His face blanched as he listened to whatever news it was that he brought him. The uniformed man hurried away after he was done delivering his message. Turning back to the Smeep King, the lieutenant hesitantly continued, stammering constantly.

"And it se... it seems that they will not be joining... at all."

"And why is this? Make it good."

"Well, sir... the crew... they're dead. Somehow, someone sliced the systems and..."

The man stopped as he saw the look of rage crossing the enormous Sith's face. He inwardly groaned at having to relay this bit of information. Smeep's right hand balled into a fist, the muscles in his arm bulging through the robes he wore, to the point where even the throbbing veins were visible. With an alacrity unmatched by anyone else on this ship, the Smeep King punched the lieutenant straight in the gut, his hand emerging from the man's back in a bloody mess of gore. A significant piece of the man's liver was stuck on the end of Smeep's claw, dripping onto the floor. Every man and woman present did their best to look the other way. None wanted that sort of attention.

"I do believe there's room for a promotion now. I will have my eyes peeled for a suitable prospect."

The room shuddered, almost in unison at this declaration. The Smeep King walked over to the head of the bridge, speaking loudly and clearly.

"Send out the first wave. Dispatch half a dozen AT-ATs. Follow standard procedures."

[GuardPiett]

The tall man ascended the small snowy hillock, the gentle breeze stirring his red and blue royally cut robes behind him. His long black hair was tied back behind his head, and his deep blue eyes stared out from his intricately tattooed face, surveying the wide grassy plain and gently rolling hills that expanded for miles around. The azure sky was filled with points of light that hung overhead like stars. But they weren't stars.


Sean reached the apex of the hill and surveyed his army filling the plain in front of him. Far away, at the top of another range of hills, stood another force, barely in sight. Hundreds of thousands of warriors were on either side. The cold beauty of this pristine world, named Hoth on their starcharts, seemed to deny what was about to occur.


On either side of him were his best commanders, Starnek and Goath. They watched their master with alert gazes, studying his every movement as if they could know his wishes by body language. But it was more than that - from his link with them through the Force, they could read his emotions, and even his thoughts, if he so allowed them to.
And he could sense theirs.


"Such a beautiful world," remarked Goath, now turning to survey the vista around them. "A shame to waste it."


Sean nodded idly, fingering the lightsaber at his belt, the legendary blade Sha'kira. He remembered the massacre of his family on Golron VII. Now he would repay the galaxy - and the barbarous Empire - for what they'd done. He smiled.

"Yes. These plains of ice will run red with blood, this day. Are our forces assembled?"

"Yes master. Ready and awaiting your commands."
"And the enemy?"

Goath sighed audibly. "Not good. They outnumber us almost three to one."

Sean gave a low chuckle. "I would think we are used to such odds, my friend."

"I know, master. But they say the leader is The Smeep King."


His smile faded at the mention of those words, and Sean narrowed his eyes. The Smeep King was an experienced Imperial Leader. He'd been a true warrior once, in his prime, but with age he had diverted into a generalship position. Goath was wise to be wary of him, but not Sean. "Leave him to me. The rest of you cut down their line forces. We shall drive straight through to their center and cut out their heart. And we will have this day."


Looking to either side, he surveyed the lines of his amassed army, a sea of warriors that covered the countryside around him. His force represented the height of Altarin'Dakor glory, the height of this group he had risen from the cold ashes of the past, an amalgam of countless variety in both race and skill. And among them were his Jedi, those who could wield the One Force, who controlled and spurred on his armies. They were a match for any of the Imperials facing them today. That, despite Goath's worries, was what would make them win.


Bringing up a pair of high-powered macro-scanners, he peered at the hills that held the seemingly endless line of enemy troops. At this magnification, he could make out individual soldiers, and the Imperial beurocrats leading them. Their mouths were open in an anticipatory battle cry, inaudible at this distance. They were ready.


He lowered the macros and let a servant take it from his hand. "Very well. For the glory of the chosen ones, the rebellion, and the honor of the One Force, the time has come. We make our stand now. May it begin."


And begin it did. Sean stepped forward slowly, closing his eyes, attuning himself with the Force. He breathed in the cold, moist air around him, felt the soft snow give slightly under his boots. All his senses sharpened tenfold, his awareness of his beating heart, the growing grass, the passage of the planet around the sun. Even the passage of time itself. All was in harmony, in perfect order and design. The Force spoke to him, its will floating around the edges of his consciousness. He caressed it, stroked it, searching for that perfect connection, the essence of the One Force. And then he found it, and power and life beyond description filled him to bursting. When he opened his eyes again, it was a different man who now surveyed the valley below. His eyes had gone white, his consciousness converted into that of the perfect warrior, precisely attuned to the Force. He was nothing but a living weapon now. And that weapon had but one purpose: to kill.


Raising his arms high above his head, his fingers outstretched, he stepped forward and yelled out a scream of pure fury, a shrill battle cry amplified a thousand times through the Force. The sound carried all across the ice planes, echoing among his forces, spurring them on. The power of the One Force itself flew threw him, a torrent that threatened to sweep him away. Total power engulfed him, filling him with life beyond imagination. The cry was taken up and redoubled by his forces, thousands upon thousands of voices giving out a yell of fierceness and exhilaration. Warriors innumerable took up the call, and scores of men to lead them, as they brought their own lightsabers and blades up and ignited them, spears of bright color piercing the air. The earth shook and trembled beneath their cry of defiance, a scream that summed up all their unspent emotions toward the Jedi and those who opposed the Altarin'Dakor, and the Rebellion.
His battle cry flowed into a pure scream, as he lifted Sha'kira high above his head and activated it. A tremendous and deafening crack shot through the air, a bolt of lightning striking up at the sky as the super-intense blade shot into existence above him. Four smaller blades extended out at an angle to the main shaft, forming a protective guard of light-energy. The weapon hummed and clicked as its internal mechanisms aligned themselves, almost as if the blade itself was eagerly preparing for battle. At his sides, Starnek and Goath brought their own blades up, as well. Sean could feel the energy and adrenaline flowing through him, building in him the unstoppably fierce fighting spirit that allowed those of his race to fight like no others.


"Na nakannda!" he cried. "Glacia na Altarin'Dakor! Undia na Rebellion!" All around him, the call was taken up. Their screaming and stomping created a palpable feeling of energy in the air, one that shook the very ground. Nothing would stop them now.


As one, his forces surged forward...


In the fury of battle, he struck, flowing amongst the swarming bodies, striking with the grace and power of the most dangerous predator. Warriors engulfed him on all sides, yet he slipped through them with the grace of a cat. Enemy after enemy fell before his blinding, unstoppable blade. Ducking the wild swing of one warrior, he stepped to the side and drew his blade across, cutting through not only that soldier but the one beside him, as well. Then, continuing forward, he met another attacker's downward stroke with his own, cleaving the enemy's forcepike in two. Then, spinning around behind him, he took both the man's legs off at the knee. As the screaming soldier fell, Lasitus faced yet another opponent. He stood right in the center of the conflict, surrounded by both his army and that of the Empire. Death and violence raged all around him, the clashing of steel, the discharge of blasters and rail guns, the explosions on the ground from bombs or the crash of a fighter. Overhead, ships swarmed like insects, waging another battle, but one no less decisive. Their beams crisscrossed the sky, cleaving ships apart to crash down upon the armies below. But those explosions were quickly covered by the swarming mass of uncountable thousands, trampling Hoth into bloody hellhole. Blood flowed freely through the air, splattering on him and others, creating a mist that hovered in the midst of battle.


Seeing the glowing blade of an enemy Altarin'Dakor, an Imperial pushed his way forward, grinning eagerly in anticipation. The man was moving as graceful as a falcon, cleaving through Sean's armies almost as easily as Sean was cutting through the Empire's forces himself. But the Altarin'Dakor were far from matching the Empire's numbers. . .


The man seemed to notice him at the last moment, turning and swinging his blade downwards at Sean. The Jedi parried the strike, then reached out and quickly grabbed the man's wrist, pulling it back. Then, pushing the other man's blade up with his own, he slammed the handle of his hypersaber into the man's face, throwing him backwards. Though blood streaked down from the man’s shattered nose, the Imperial recovered quickly and launched into a series of attacks against the Jedicon. But Lasitus was too fast. He blocked a down strike, which the Jedi pushed down until it struck the base of his light-guard. Then Sean pulled his blade across and over his opponent's, locking it between the blades of his guard. Then, with his enemy's saber trapped, he disengaged and swung Sha'kira across the man's chest, cutting a wide swath of his torso away in a spray of blood vapor.


But that wasn’t enough Imperial blood spilled. . . .

[Lt Commander Pax]

**Pax stood at the front of the cramped meeting room and watched as his flight leaders and other senior officers entered and took whatever they could find as a seat... Ogre and LL were the last to enter and took seats at the back as to not attract any attention to themselves... Once everyone was settled Pax started...**

Ladies and Gentleman we are about to be getting visitors... and i'm afraid they aren't quite as friendly as the last one to arrive... We have just recieved information that that at least one Imperial fleet is heading our way... we don't have an exact date yet but we are assuming withing the next few days and at the latest a week... As usual we can't expect any reinforcements and we have no clue where we are going when we leave... okay any questions up to this point???

**there were none... this was old news to them... this particular group had been jumping from base to base for the last 3 years... they really didn't need this briefing... they knew what was expected from them...**

Alright... we will evac as many transpors as we can before they get here... and if we get really lucky we can all get out... but we've never been that lucky and i don't expect it that to change... so the fighters will cover the remaining transports and then the usual order of departure starts... okay??? get out of here and do what you can to get those transports in the air...

**the usual order of departure meant that the Z-95's left first followed by the Y-wings, B-wings, A-wings and finally the X-wings... this was done mainly because the X-wings could take more of a fight then the others...**

**the room started to clear... as the pilots headed to prep their fighters and then help with loading the transports... everyone else just started grabing the important equipment and loading the transports... Pax walked over to LL and Ogre...**

Here we go again huh???

Master LL would you be willing to provide your ship to aid in our evac???

[NeVyen]

::Morgan was in a very rotten, pissy mood. This in itself was not entirely unusual. His disposition had been thoroughly foul for the past year or so.::
------------------------------------------------------------
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp He used to be a mediocre college student of an especially non-interesting background and academic standing. He blended to an extreme degree. The only thing anyone knew about him was his affinity for all things mechanical or electronic. If a computer was broken, Morgan got paid a small sum and it was quickly fixed. Same for speeders, swoops, ground cars, data pads... but aside from that, nothing remarkable at all.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Except to the world of data thievery and sabotage. Known only as NeVyen, Morgan was supposedly one of the ten best slicers in the galaxy. Things had gone very well for two years. He was rich, unknown, and still kept up his grades well enough. HE thought it was quite an achievement.
------------------------------------------------------------
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp Unknown until he took up an offer that could not be refused; an invitation to steal Imperial military secrets, and where to start. The pay itself was nothing special. It was, in fact, a bit lacking. The slicing was enough to make anyone who thought themselves 1337 drool.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp It was the most difficult slice NeVyen had ever accomplished. He nearly was caught four times! FOUR TIMES! Still. It lived up to its invitation. But he was successful.
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp And then, at three in the morning, Imperial Stormtroopers blew the dorm room door off its hinges and threw him in the brig. Oh, that was fun.
------------------------------------------------------------
&nbsp &nbsp &nbsp &nbsp :: His mood brightened, just a bit. Oh, the score was even for sure now. A full Victory class Star Destroyers crew was dead. Yes, very even.
The Star Destroyer’s computer systems and droid compliment had been sliced, diced and then turned blender mush. It had taken a mere two weeks of execution, and only a month of planning. He had told the computer, with the help of his reprogrammed army, to stop air circulation on the entire ship. It really was very simple, and worked even better.::
::NeVyen went to the hangar bay, flight suit protecting him from the lack of oxygen. He casually snickered to himself at the dead figures who had rushed for the emergency air stations, it was completely futile. He had made sure they were empty three days ago, with the help of the droids. Entering a shuttle, he left the lifeless corpse of the Rane’s Hawk behind, and jumped into hyperspace, and moments later, the Rane’s Hawk jumped to a different point. ::

(OOC: Sig in the works.)

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: LL looks at Pax and nods ::

I would be glad to assist in evacuation. She's beaten up, but her engines are still in working order. With some brief maintenance, she will be completely spaceworthy.

[Darth Malice]

SSD Executor

"10 seconds to realspace, Captain."

Darth Malice clasped his hands behind his cloak, narrowing his eyes suddenly as he reached out to the Force to get a reading of the battle light years ahead. "Five ... Four ... Three ... Two ... One." The opaque tunnel of hyperspace melted away into a sea of stars.

A full breath before the unspoken "Zero" was supposed to signal reversion.

Suspended in empty space before them was the Rampart. And far ... far in the background, battle raged over Taanab. Green daggers and soundless explosions ignited in the darkness, almost too small to see with the naked eye. Closer examination of the Interdictor revealed massive hull and weapon damage.

Malice whirled around glaring blaster bolts at Admiral Tarkin, who was already shouting orders to his crew. Outside, the accompanying capital ships lurched forward at full sublight speed. Control held the Dark Lord's rage in check, however, as turned his senses back to the battle several hundred thousand kms away. ~~That idiot!! How did he ever make admiral? My father would have killed him for this level of incompetence.~~

After a pause to recompose himself, Malice turned toward a commlink officer, his voice deadly calm. "Open a channel on tactical to the Victorious. This station."

The holoscreen blinked to life to reveal several bridge officers scrambling around to face him.

"Admiral Needa ... Are you versed in the dynamics of the Thrawn Maneuver?"
"Y-Yes, m'l--"
"You are aware, then, that the position of the Interdictor is rather significant?"
"My Lord, the Rampart took heavy damage. She had to withdraw or--"
"You command the most advanced, heavily armed Star Destroyer in its class. And you can't protect one ship?"

Needa seemed to draw strength from that, feeding into his pride. "Lord Malice ... the situation is well in hand. They are simple farmers."

Malice slowly raised a hand. On the holovid, Admiral Needa's eyes widened in shock with the realization that he could not breath. "I know something of what a simple farmer is capable of." Malice held his hand steady for a few more heartbeats. Around him, the squadrons under Tarkin's command were already moving into cover formation as the battlefield grew closer. He knew his forces would more than make up for the other's bumbling.

The Dark Lord refocused on Needa, seeming to consider him. Yes, his father would have killed this fool. Nupraptor would want him to. Smeep King would have been much messier about it. But he did not share their lust for fear and death. The flavor of power he desired was control. Wasting resources would accomplish nothing. Already too much time was lost.

On the holovid, Needa collapsed suddenly to the ground, sharp wheezing coming from off screen. "Captain Dross!" Malice snapped. The man next to Needa turned suddenly back toward him, maintaining an impressive amount of composure givent he scene. " Commander Needa is to be confined to quarters. There may be a promotion for you if you are capable of regrouping with the Dauntless and providing TIE cover for the Troop lines."

Dross hesitated, trying to process the words, but ultimately nodding. "Yes, Lord Malice. It will be done."

Malice turned, exchanging a meaningful look with Tarkin. Even without the Force, it was obvious they were both thinking the same thing. The Admiral quickly turned back to reclaiming control of the battle outside.

[Lilaena DeVille]

The journey to Hoth was a long and lonely one. Lilaena's eyes were puffy and bloodshot from lack of sleep, and she hadn't cleaned herself since leaving Coruscant. On the front of her tunic was the dark brown reminder of Darven's death, her loss written in dried blood.

She blinked.

What could it be in that container? Use the Force to open... Lilaena scrubbed her face with her hands, willing away the exaustion that etched her heart. She placed the metallic box on the floor of the cargo hold, and sat cross-legged across from it. She stared at it.

And stared some more. She sighed, dropping her head into her hands. This bloody item got Darven killed, so whatever it is, it must be important. The Empire didn't want it getting away. The Twi'lek who brought it to the table also brought the stormtroopers... Lilaena snapped her head up as a wave of fury washed over her, similar to the break she had in the bar when the greasy man had pointed his silly blaster at her. It seemed so long ago.

She gripped the box in two hands, and uttered a gutteral growl, willing, no, prying the container open with her mind. Still, nothing happened, and she wailed her frustration. Her voice was absorbed into the various boxes and crates stacked and fastened down in the hold, and Lilaena slammed the box into the floor. The dull clanging sound it made rang in her ears.

Standing over the smallish box, Lilaena closed her eyes, arms folded, and reached into its innards. She could not have told a bystander what she was doing, and she swayed slightly as something began to happen. Gasping, she sank back onto the floor, and touched the box again. to her surprise, it opened up, revealing a small whitish duraplast object. She screwed her face up in confusion. Now what?

She tapped the object with one finger, and jerked back as a hologram was emmitted from the device. The image was that of a Whill, an ancient and knowledgable race of aliens. This Whill stared up at her, and grunted. She scooted back away from it as the hologram started squawking about the Force and Jedi apprentices and masters. Lilaena frowned. The person who wants this must be a Jedi -- or perhaps the Rebellion!? She shook her head, No matter, I don't pick and choose my clients or my cargo.

She fumbled with the Holocron (as she realized it must be), and turned it off. De'Ville returned it to the metallic box and closed it up, once again unreachable.

Hoth system within 10 lightyears

The Devil's Advocate's computer beeped her back into the @#%$pit. She rubbed her hand through her hair, and pulled the ship out of hyperspace just out of the system, not wanting to come out too close to her rendeveous point. Always better to err on the side of caution.

"Blood and bloody ashes!" Lilaena cursed as the long range sensors picked up a large military presence in the system. "The Empire here too!? Bloody Rebellion, ruining my life." She skirted around the egdes of the asteroid field, hoping the metallic content of the asteroids would fool the Navy's sensors enough to buy her time to think.

[Darth Turbogeek]

Once he had been a great Jedi. And even once the Jedi had even gone out and become a Hero. The Masters sought his advice. The Padwans asked for his teaching. A half breed human, one with a decades longer life than an ordinary human, he was 78, although you would have pushed to think he was more that 30 when he had arrived that fateful day onto the hell planet. The heat was incredible and the place waterless. But worse that that, the Jedi had discovered something more than just being a Jedi. He had discovered the love of a woman. A Jedi in love they said? Was it right? He didnt care. The days in her arms were the days he cherished, the embrace, the tender touch of her lips and the look in her eye that melted his heart. Beautiful and vibrant, he even felt more in her... a future and a power. He would take her back to the Council and have her tested. He would marry her. They would stand side by side, Jedi Mster and his bride and face any evil together as one...

There was one problem, something that stood in thier way. One day the decided to take matters into their own hands. He had grabbed her and they had run. A battle they won together, just like he had dreamed.... and just like his dream he would look into her eyes and see the love there... Instead he saw horror and too late realised his mistake. The Ion cannon blast hit him in, he heard a scream, his or hers he did not know. The pain, the nerves screaming. His mind screaming. Knowing he had failed, knowing the only thing he cared for was lost.

Somehow got up. Beaten down. Rough hands. A blaster butt to the skull. His love taken from him before his eyes. Willing himself got up. A blaster shot, deflected. Another but this not at him. Another wail. His voice howling... the last he ever knew..... all was lost! No he cried, I am a Jei Master! This could not happen! Anger took him. Death came. He remembered stalking at night, tearing out throats with his hands. Becoming an animal, living of scavanged food. Going wild. Hands tried to capture him. Eluded them. Killed others. Never really understood, never knew what next. Sanity departed like a thief in the night. Snarling. Intense. Blood driped. Flesh torn. Burnt smells. Darkness.

--

She looked up, hoping no-one would witness this. The regular drug mix the doctors gave the inmate to sedate and to control was rapidly dumped, to be replaced by a vitamin and revival drug mix. The doctor had doen this last night and had hoped the Yalsalimar she had killed had not been noticed. Last night's visit had been routine, but highly dangerous - altering the drugs and also putting this Jedi, who had been in this ward for many years under the influence of the Force was playing with fire. The records said this Jedi had gone insane for some reason and was highly destructive, unable to be controlled or treated. The doctor didnt care. She was a rebel sympathiser and it was only recently she had learned the history of the Jedi and it was her hope, insane or not this one could do something against the hated Empire.

It could mean her death. It could mean the discovery of this secret iasylum and the betrayal of her workmates, maybe death of the other inmates. Would it be worth it if a Jedi of the staure of Turbogeek could be bought back? Long thought dead, indeed, before the New Empire was even told of. A Jedi from the time the Jedi were actually a force of power in the Galaxy! She didnt understand how he had lived this long, the records said he was over 90. Well, the genetic tests suggested some sort of crossbreeding with another species, whoich could explain the vastly extended life. The doctor would have sworn he was no older than 32.

Whatever it was, he was still alive, still pysically healthy and more importantly, unknown to the Empire. Was it possible he had enough mental control to be useful? She didnt know, no-one knew, which she was now going to find out.

The warden was there ,sweeping floors. The lights were dimmed, the corridor echoed. Her heart beat loudly as she greeted the wrden and asked for the door to Turobgeek's room opened. The steel door spqueaked slightly and she entered the anteroom, waiting until the outer door was closed before keying the security slot with her key and allowing the inner airlock to open.

The smell hit her first like it always did. Antiseptic, drugs, human body wastes, this time with the faintest whiff of a dead Yalsalimar. Well, she would report it now, couldnt avoid it. Still, she could give the inmate the doctored drug mix..... and hope. He was asleep, the bindings that kept him strapped to the bed still in place. And by the smell, he had defecated. Oh charming she though. Nothing worse than a grown man with no bowel control.

20 minutes later, the inmate was cleaned up and still asleep. She thought this was a bit odd, he was usually awake after the needle... With a sinking heart, she realised he would not be awakeing and all her effort was for nothing. A slight creak sounded from the bed and as she moved away to report the dead Yalsalimar. At least she tried.

10 minutes later, the maintenance staff came in, bearing a new Force blocking creature and ready to bear the dead one out. Another creak from the bed didnt trigger. And for a critical moment, both the inside and outside dorrs were open.

BANG! BANG! BANG!

With miniture explosins, the arm straps holding the inmate broke. Then the chest strap as he violently sat up, then with inhuman strength ripped the leg straps out. She screamed as he leaped up, impossibly fast. A maintenance wroker tried to get him back down, but flew backwards from an arm swing. With a animalistic howl, the inmate jumped off the bed and in a flash was out the doors - and out of any Yalsalimar influence. The doctor froze and then yelled for the maintenace staff to catch the inmate, knowing even though she wanted this, she could not be seen to be.

Go! She thought mentally.

The maintenance workers piled out the doors, the doctor close behind. Where was he...?

A hand grabbed her throat from behind, and dragged her down the corridor. The inmate was making animal noises as he dragged her, slobbering and hooting. This she didnt expect, didn't want. Her own throat was too tight to scream in the horrror.

He wasnt asleep! He was biding his time! But he's acting liek some sort of dememneted beast....?

It never occured to her, even dumb animals would wait until an escape opportunity presented itself. There was no human intelligence, just outright animal instinct... she should have known better. They cam to a door and hardly stopping the inmate smashed into it. The door shuddered, but didnt give. He backed up and hit the door again, and again until in fustration, he hurled his prisioner face first into the unyeilding object.

NOOOOOO!!!!

The door opened, sparing her life. She flew through the opening, canoning into a guard squad, coming for the alarm, The squad tumbled and the inmate charged out, crunching a foot into her spine as jumped over the guards. Tearing off at speed, she painfully looked up to see him crash through another door and then, likely freedom.

Good luck Jedi she said to herself. If that's what he could be called anymore. She lost conciousness and her face fell to the floor

--

The inmate exploded through a glass window, to skid to a stop at the sudden harsh sunlight. Grunting in surrpise, he dumbly looked around, before a yell scared him and he darted off again.

--

A small part of his mind, freed of the drugs and the Yalsalimar effect, for the first time in years came awake. It twisted as the insanity of the mind threatened to sweep it under... for a time, it could only barely try to stay existant....

WHAT'S GOING ON!!!!! It cried. WHATS HAPPENED TO ME????

[Nupraptor]

His eyes snapping open, the Emperor's raptor-like gaze sweeps over the room with a fierce intensity. A quick glance downward reveals to him the source of his sudden awakening: his apprentice, kneeling before him.

"Rise, my child...", He intones.

Standing, she began to address her Master.

"I have returned from my mission, m'lord. Everything went as planned. However..." She pauses, hesitating
"I eliminated and replaced Moff Dagarin. Moff Millar is now in charge of the Garos sector."

Frowning at this news, Nupraptor showed a rare amount of restraint.

"And I assume, of course, that you had good reason?"

"Of course, my liege. He was a rebel sympathizer. He was covertly diverting resources to rebel outposts."

"Find out where these outposts are. I want each burned to the ground. Be sure to make a recording of at least one of them as it's destroyed. After you having relayed these orders, you are free to do as you wish until I have further need of you."

She bowed, a swath of relief washing over her that he was not upset at her actions. With that, she turned on her heel, cloak billowing in the air, and headed out the door to carry out his orders. Sighing, Nupraptor looked at the flashing light on his armrest. He was about ready to smash the comlink into a thousand pieces: the blasted thing seemed to have a never-ending supply of matters that required his attention. All part of being the ruler of the most powerful faction in the Universe, apparently. The first transmission on the long list was encrypted, and the computer systems spent several seconds decoding it before displaying it to him.

"Greetings, Emperor Rane. I see that the Empire is doing very well..."

He listened to the brief, mostly inane, message. It seemed that the leader of the Bounty Hunter's Guild wished to have a meeting with him. As always, she was overly polite, which suited him just fine. No doubt, she wished to discuss the contract he put out but days ago. However, she was likely mistaken as to the nature of the job he wished accomplished. She should know by now that, were he in need of an assassination, he wouldn't stoop to the likes of a Bounty Hunter to do the deed. True, she was as good as they came... easily a match for some of his personal assassins. But why should he pay an outside group for that which was so readily available to him? No, he had a different sort of job for her. Pressing an encryption button, he began to record his response.

"I bid you thanks for your prompt response, Hunter Shadowtide. My request of you is a bit unusual, but I am sure that it is well within your abilities. I covet a very special object, currently in the hands of a smuggler. Attached to this transmission is all the information we have on her, including her last known whereabouts. I want you to capture the object she has in her possession and bring it to me. You may do what you wish with the smuggler."

Ending the recording, the Emperor chuckled a bit to himself. The encryption he used on the message was within her capabilities to decipher, but it was far from easy. It should take her around an hour to figure that one out. He pressed a button, and listened to the next bit of info. He was pleasantly surprised to find a recording relayed to him that wasn't some official business that he would have to reply to.

He found it highly amusing and almost as highly ironic that the Director of Internal Security, Armand Isard, hadn't the slightest clue that there was a camera hidden within his own office which kept the Emperor constantly updated on all of his "secret" dealings. Even more entertaining was that the fact that he was fully aware of how Isard's own daughter was constantly making attempts to implicate him for some crime or another, despite how he always managed to wriggle out of trouble. In fact, her last attempt had come close to succeeding. Emperor Rane not only knew all about this, but he fully supported it: It would determine which of the two Isards was more ruthless, and which would likely be getting a promotion. He liked Ysanne's youthful arrogance, but she had many delusions about the Emperor. Delusions that he would allow her to cling to until the right time.

A small beep issued forth from the intercom, announcing that they were approaching Coruscant. This would be a short stop, only to handle a few minor matters before continuing on. He knew that the commander of the Death Star would be fuming when he told him that they were making a trip all the way to Hoth after this. It mattered little: the Death Star was a symbol of his limitless power and resources, and it would go wherever he went. Slowly standing, he ordered a transport ship and escort to be readied for his trip to the planet's surface. He needed to review a few things about the Project in person, as well as pick up some of the slave girls that had been recently acquired in his name. They had been transported to Coruscant all the way from Kame, and as such, were the fairest women ill-gotten money could buy. Ruling an Empire had not dulled his carnal desires. However, those desires could wait until he satisfied an even greater need: his curiosity.

He felt a strong ripple echoing through the Force, that of those who were strong in the Light side. It was quite disconcerting to him, and something that warranted his attention. He had a strong desire to simply wipe out Hoth in one fatal stroke, saving himself a great deal of effort, but he had too many resources invested there. How ironic that the Rebel scum would make an outpost on the very same planet which he had a research base, devoted to studying the phenomenon that was the focal point of his grand Project.

No matter. Unlike Palpatine, Nupraptor was more than capable of engaging in a battle himself. He was not some weak fool that depended solely on the Force to draw his strength, and he made that clear to all. Gathering his robes around him, he stepped aboard the transport ship, making his descent to Coruscant.

<img src=http://nupraptor.clanhappy.com/emperorrane.jpg>

[Sniper Tondry]

"Five... four... three... two... one... reverting to realspace, Admiral."

Pierce Tondry surveyed the scene before the bridge, fingering his rifle. It was fascinating.

Arrayed against the backdrop of space was an orbital battle station and a fleet. It was there to try and stop the Empire's forces.

For a moment, and a brief moment only, Tondry entertained the thought of sneaking aboard those ships and killing each and every being on them. That kind of brutality was how he had been assigned to the fleet in the first place; during the original Rebellion's battle on Coyn in the Elrood sector, he had charged into an advancing enemy line, saving countless troops by engaging their officers in direct combat and killing them. Without their leadership, the enemy line fell.

His tactics earned him the attention of Grand Admiral Thrawn, who had him transferred to Navy trooper detail where he could learn fleet tactics.

Sometimes, it crossed his mind to wonder what would have happened if he hadn't made that charge. If he had disobeyed orders and hung back to pick them off instead.

Lightly brushing the rank bars that adorned his uniform, Admiral Pierce Tondry signalled for an open comm line. He stood up and walked to the command deck's guard rail to give his opponent the illusion of respect.

"Vice General Kotepsi," he said cordially in the accented basic he'd picked up from his first commander in the Navy. "Your devense is impressif. I like plazement of your Interdictors. I come before you today to offer you lazt chance to join Empire."

A wild-eyed man appeared on the bridge holoprojector. "Where are the rest of your ships, Tondry? Where's your fleet? All hands to battle stations! Red alert!"

"I am alone as peaze envoy," Pierce said smoothly. "It vould not do to deztroy such vine military men and materiel."

Kotepsi turned his head, wiping his hands on his stained, sweaty uniform. "All forces, attack! Attack now! It's TONDRY, don't you understand? We have to kill him now!"

"Your act of aggrezzion vill not go off lightly, Kotepsi," Tondry replied, surreptitiously keying in several ship placements and commands on a concealed datapad at the front of the guard rail. "If you attack me vizout provocazion, Emperor Rane vill be very dizpleazed."

"All units, advance!" Kotepsi screamed. "Fire at will!"

The holoprojector abruptly cut off. "You had the pozitions?" Tondry asked his subordinate. "The tranzfer vent off undetected?"

"Of course, Admiral," the Imperial Star Destroyer Scythe's captain replied. "Our forces are ready to microjump in and begin the attack."

"Excellent, Captain," Tondry smiled, forcing himself to speak normally. "You may begin when ready. Remember that Jask is in our pocket. Do not harm his ships."

"Signalling for the attack," the comm Lieutenant said. "Recieving a green light. Tactical comm frequencies and encrypts on. And- your favorite music, sir."

Tondry smiled as a light symphonic classical piece began to caress it's way across the bridge. Ke'vatik's Imperial Influence in D. It was a pleasant tune, one that gave Pierce an understanding into why Thrawn enjoyed art so much. Indeed, he found himself wishing he had someone to dance to with.

But dancing during a battle was silly, and a waste of energy. There would be no distractions while he destroyed the enemy Cruiser that would attempt to prevent his escape. Twisting and manipulating Force visions was such a delecate art.

Admiral Pierce Tondry returned to his command chair and quietly lit a cigarra.

######

It was two days later when the Omega Battle Group exited hyperspace at Coruscant. Emperor Rane's Death Star quietly stood as a monument to Imperial control, a monument visible from Tondry's place on the viewport.

Strange. There'd been no word that Rane would be here himself.

"Put me through to someone onboard the Death Star," he commanded.

His subordinate complied, and in a moment, a familiar female visage appeared.

Tondry stared, then broke into a smile. "Navaria," he rumbled pleasantly. "What brings you to Coruscant at Emperor Rane's side?"

EDIT: Nupraptor who? (Removed all references to Emperor Nupraptor, substituted Rane. :) )

[Lt Ysanne Isard]

"Mind if I say so, but have you lost your head completely??? We've found nothing like the evidence you say we have, but you just think you can waltz up to the Emperor and get him to have good ol' Armand executed based on this???"

Ysanne Isard sat with a cool contemptuous look in the co-pilot's chair, seemingly unperturbed by her partner's fearful criticism, and plucked some hairs from her grey military uniform with a leather-gloved hand. In the other hand she held the datapad listing the "evidence" - fingerprints and other traces of the presence of the now dead Rebel Collaborator they had been sent to Garqui to hunt down. That was all there was, but she felt confident that it would be enough this time to link it back to her father and base her claim upon his "rebel sympathies".

Ysanne Isard, Field Operative for Imperial Internal Security - or Imperial Intelligence, as it was better known - let a smile slither across her lips that betrayed a cheerfulness she didn't feel. She reached a hand out and patted Jekaan's knee.

"It will be enough, Jekaan; you have nothing to fear. This time, when I'm done with him, my father will be a crumple in the Emperor's palm. And then I will sit in his chair instead."

Many times in the past years - in fact ever since she had entered the service and slowly risen in status until she was rightfully called the Empire's most deadly agent - she had tried to find the means to implement her father with evidence to his being a traitor. Many times, both she and Jekaan who shared her hatred, had desperately searched for something that would be a legitimate reason to depose the tyrant from his office. But again and again Armand Isard, Director of Internal Security of the New Empire, had proven he knew his daughter too well to consider her attempts a danger to his status.

Anger rose within Ysanne, as she thought about the many little ways her father had found to keep her own status within InSec down. After 5 years of service, he still had not promoted her from her rank of simple Field Operative, and, what was worse, he instead insisted on making her use her naval rank of Lieutenant. Even Jekaan had a higher status within InSec than she had, as Crypt Chief - albeit one who had never actually been given time to fill that role. It rankled mightily.

But worse was his finding fault with everything she did, when even the Emperor himself had showered honours onto her shoulder whenever she had returned from a particularly dangerous and precarious mission. Instead she had been forced to put on an appologetic mask, bowing and scraping for every morsel of recognition from her father.

Of course, he was a professional - as was she. No mention of her being his daughter, of an underlying suggestion or invitation of preferential treatment such acknowledgement would imply, would she ever allow to pass her lips. She did not want preferential treatment - but neither did she want her skills to be completely dismissed. But all the professionalism she could show would not bend her father's attitude of treating her like a common dog-soldier.

They were so much alike - maybe that was the fault. The Isard family ambition and pride ran through both their veins and hearts. And surely as she had tried her best at deposing him, so had he sent her out on the most dangerous misions, against enemies and into situations that could have gotten her killed many times over, if she had not been so profficient at her task.

He HAD to be made vulnerable! He had to!

"We'll be reverting to realspace in a few seconds, Ysanne... hold on tight!"

Called out of her dark thoughts by Jekaan, Ysanne grabbed the armrests of her co-pilot's seat tightly, and watched as the brilliant lines and colours of hyperspace began to retract into the familiar pinpoints of the planets and stars in the system. There right in her view lay the irridescent planet she had called home for all her life. Coruscant - or as the Emperor had insisted on calling it, Imperial Center. A billion and more tiny flickering lights against a mottled brown-grey-black background. Home to a multitude of species despite all the Emperor's attempts at Ethnical cleansing. Home to the Emperor, whom she revered so much. And home to a cruel and cold father, bent on the destruction of his own daughter.

As Jekaan gave out the clearance code for transit through the High Security zone around Imperial City, Ysanne suddenly noticed the Death Star anchored in the sky above it. The Emperor had returned!

Shaking off the last remnants of the dark thoughts she had been pondering on, Ysanne began to feel faint glimmers of hope returning. If she could get to the Emperor first, before reporting to her father, she might get the long-hoped-for chance. The evidence she bore would not be able to be turned down by such as HE.

She smiled at Jekaan, full of newly returned confidence.

"We will succeed, Jekaan. This time we will succeed. And once and for all, my father's tyrannical rule over us will be at an end, and our lifes will be safe. One has to accept dangers for such an outcome as this!"

'Strange,' thought Jekaan, 'that her thoughts should mirror my own so much. Am I so transparent, or is this the result of being around her so much?'

[Navaria Tarkin]

Navaria bowed deeply to her Lord and Emperor and turned with a flourish out of the Throne Room. She paid
attention to no one as she made her way to the turbolift and entered.

During the descent, she went over all the information she had gained from her investigation into the
redirecting of shipments. It was quite simple to ascertain the three major stops that Imperial supplies were
being directed to. It was on her trip back to the Death Star that she worked it through in her mind for her
instincts told her that her Master would have her deal with the ramifications of her findings. Thankfully, she
didn't have to do it herself and will send in the appropriate means to take care of the rabble.

The doors slide open to the lift and a young Ensign entered. He stopped once the head of the woman raised to gaze at him. He stiffened up at the cold stare of those blue eyes and bowed to her. With nothing said
between them, he turned on his heel and exited the lift. Navaria leaned on the back wall and went back to her musings, finding it rather amusing that her trip to her floor wasn't interrupted again....

The door slide open to her quarters and she unfastened her cloak, tossing it on the king size bed as she past it. She took a moment to gaze outside the viewport of her room, looking at the perfection of the stars and allowed herself to see the beauty of Imperial Center below. Her Homeworld. Navaria has been away for far too long it seems and is grateful for the break that her Master has seen fit to bestow upon her.

Enough of this trifle, I've work to do

She pulls out the chair to her desk and keys in the controls for the comm system, waiting for a reply from
communications. A face comes alive on her viewsceen as the communications officer bows, <What is it you wish, Lordess Tarkin?>

"I want to be notified of any incoming ships of our fleet that exit hyperspace and have them contact me if
they wish to speak with someone. Our Emperor needs his energies focused for other important details. Clear?"

<Yes, M'Lord. Anything else?>

"No. That will be all."

The screen goes blank and she purses her lips in thought as to the matter of the Rebel Outposts and sympathizers. She wonders which of the three targets would be best to document and show the galaxy that
defying the Emperor is costly to ones health. She smiles knowing exactly which one.

"Command Center? This is Lordess Tarkin."

The reply is prompt, <Yes, M'Lord?>

"The orders that I'm giving need to be carried out to the letter. Is that understood?"

<Yes, Ma'am.>

"I need four Star Destroyers to be diverted from the nearest fleet to these two planets. M'Haeli and Pydyr are known to house Rebel Outposts where supplies are being funneling through. Raise the area and kill everyone but any high ranking Rebels that are found. I want to ... speak to them personally."

She could hear the pleased tone in the officer's voice and permitted herself to smile, <But of course, Lordess. As you command.>

"I'm sending you the coordinates now to the Outposts as well as a certain shop that is located on Alderaan.
My husband's display three years ago didn't seem to sway the entire populace that helping the Rebels is
unwise. Burn that shop down and kill the owner's. Display their bodies in front of the store as a reminder to
what happened and record everything. Send me the recording as soon as it is done."

<You're orders will be carried out immediately.>

"Good. Soon everyone will understand what it means to cross Emperor Rane. Tarkin out."

She leaned back in her chair and let her mind wander, deciding on what to do with herself. She could perhaps go planetside and visit her mother and brother. It has been at least six months since she last saw them. Her musings are cut short as a communication comes through to her. <M'Lord, Admiral Tondry has just exited hyperspace and wishes to speak to someone onboard>

"Patch him to my quarters."

The screen flashed to the bridge of Tondry's Star Destroyer, <"Navaria. What brings you to Coruscant at
Emperor Rane's side?">

She smile pleasantly, "My place is always at my Master's side when he needs me Pierce, you should know that. For now, my mission is complete and the Emperor has given me leave to do as I will." She raises an eyebrow questioningly, "I presume that your mission was a success?"

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: After the meeting, the rebel senior staff dispersed, quick to get to the tasks at hand. LL migrated to a private room, opening the door and walking in. The utilitarian crew quarters was tightly-packed and modular, and LL walked to the rudimentary mirror and sink. LL breathes deeply...the battle was approaching soon.::

Leia...I will never forget.

:: LL removes a wrinkled and dirty deep-red sash from underneath his jacket. With deliberate motion, he uses his one arm to tie the sash loosely around his waist. As LL looks back up into the mirror...the floodgates of his memory open up...::

~~flashback~~

Alderaan.

:: It had been 20 minutes since LL had last seen Leia. The raid on the Imperial power station had gone well, but the resistance was intense, and they got separated. It was something they had gotten used to. In the time since they were trapped behind enemy lines, Leia and LL had become quite self-sufficient, becoming effective partisans...disrupting war efforts by sabotage and other methods...and hoping one day to find a way out of Imperial space.

They both knew that in the event that they were seperated, they would meet up at the spot the operation was planned from. LL then waited in the old warehouse, the sound of alarms blaring half a mile into the city. She was late. LL began to worry.

Suddenly...the Force rippled. LL stood up quickly, aware that somewhere, a powerful life force had gone out. Not just any life...

...Something in LL's heart screamed in pain. LL immediately began running...running back toward the power station...back toward the hot zone. On the way, he passed countless imperials and technicians, trying to save the blazing installation. LL slowed...every step becoming painful and agonizing...LL's eyes becoming large with utter shock and disbelief.

He walked...and walked...every step slowing. The signs that pointed to the truth he did not want to hear lied in the town square. Adorned in marble, it was a sight to behold, with classical sculptures of the heroes of Alderaan mounted on every corner. LL walked...much like a living dead man...towards the great fountain in the center of the square...and the body lying on the ground.

LL's breaths turned to gasps. His knees shook. Every square inch of his body crescendoed in waves of mounting sorrow. He was afraid to look at the face, even though he knew who it was. With a shaking hand, he turned the slumped body over...and looked into his wife's face.

The control over LL's knees gave way, and he slumped to the ground. Gravity seemed particuarly harsh to LL, and he fell over his wife's body...a low moan growing louder and louder and louder...finally evident as LL's torso shook up and down in chains of uncontrollable sobs. He raised up, lines of tears and strings of mucus running down his face in an uncontrollable maelstrom of primal emotion.

With all the self-reserve he could muster, LL looked slowly down at Leia. There was a clean hole in the center of her chest. She had been run through with a lightsaber. Slowly, LL removed Leia's trademark white sash that she seemed to wear with her everyday. He clenched the cloth securely in his hand, leaned down...to kiss his wife one last time.

As this now-departed couple had their last embrace, LL's hand tightened viciously around the sash...shaking with fury seldom-before seen. LL's fingernails cut deep into the flesh of his palm, and his blood began to soak through the white fabric.....forever staining it a deep crimson.

LL finally stood up from Leia's body....looking at several shocked townspeople standing around. Slowly, his eyes gravitated down to the crimson sash. As he did so...several stormtroopers began to migrate into the area. They took notice of LL's reaction, and formed a small perimeter around him, ready to detain him.

LL looked at the sash.

The stormtroopers began to ready their blasters, setting them to stun.

LL looked at the sash.

The perimeter tightened.

LL looked at the sash.

One stormtrooper moved in, placing his hand on LL's shoulder.

The floodgate snapped.

Deep inside LL, the intense sorrow, the loss, the pain that mounted three years ago, and intensified to that point, came to a single flashpoint.::

LL: AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHHHHH! !!!!!
....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH HHH!!!!!!
....AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGGGHHHHHHHHHH HHH!!!!!!

:: The sleeper had awakened. LL's back arched as a shimmering aura of yellow fire exploded around him, blowing the stormtroopers back. LL's thinning black and grey hair stood on end, shimmering a dazzling gold. His deep eyes changed into a light green. LL had become a Super Saiyajin for the first time, triggered by the extreme heartache he felt.

Unsure of what to do...the stormtroopers ran away. The yellow aura soon subsided, and LL collapsed to the ground, crying softly ::

Leia...I will never forget.

~~end flashback~~

[R27 D9]

Lt. Ogre’s personal droid, R27 moves across the hanger within the small base, making his way over to a data port which he plugs into, and begins downloading data from the facility’s main computer systems. Crews of military personnel and civilians move all around him, boarding the transports and other designated vessels in preparation to evacuate the base, as per the orders of Lt. Commander Pax.

R27’s semispherical head turned upon the top of his torso and looked over at the craft that Jedi Master Lounge Lizard had piloted in. Crews were busy performing the maintenance that it required so that it would be ready for the inevitable battle that all those in the small base knew would happen.

His upload of information complete, R27 headed back across the hangar towards Ogre’s A-Wing, his head turning from side to side, watching the mass exodus of all the people in the base.

[Sniper Tondry]

"But of course, Navaria," Tondry smirked. "Moff Jask and his forces now loyally serve the Empire. Was there ever any doubt they would not?"

"Not from our Master," Navaria responded. Her image leaned back in her chair. "Your gifts in the Force are very powerful."

"Subtle, my dear," Pierce corrected her, waving a finger. "Reading the future is difficult and complex, and requires a great level of skill, but by no means requires great strength in the Force. Emperor Rane is much more powerful than I; he must be or we would not bother to serve him."

Navaria frowned. It occurred to Pierce that frowns suited her just as well as smiles. "Yes," she agreed. "Sith like us always know how to show respect. If only the humans who serve us could do the same."

"Think of your underlings and soldiers as beloved children, they will willingly die with you," Tondry replied, gesturing his hands expansively. "Old officer's maxim. So true."

Navaria's reply was a short, disbelieving laugh. "You don't believe, but I can prove it to you," Tondry told her. "Come with me on my next mission and I will show you what true respect is."

"And when will that mission be?"

"I believe I will be asking Emperor Rane that very question at the first opportunity," Tondry said. "But you didn't answer my question. Would you like to come along, or would you rather fly a desk?"

[Lord Fire Blade]

Almost no one knew my name. To all, I was just another Royal Guard, red robed, unspeaking, sworn to protect my Emperor to the death. Even to most of the Sith that is all I was. Another faceless human, a pawn in the games Emperor Rane chose to play. Standing impassively, a mindless automon. That amused me to a degree. Only a handful knew what I really was, the few Rane trusted to some degree. Only the few who were allowed to speak to Rane on their feet and not in supplecation.

I was more than just a Guard. I was an assasin of Jedi, I was a trained killer, a Dark Side adept (abeit not as powerful as a true Sith), honed in combat like no other. The Force Pike I weilded was as deadly as a lightsabre and in some respects more so in my hands. I was skilled at munitions, my blaster was well used and above all I had total loyalty to the Emperor.... and utterly no fear. Fear was not something I knew. I did not understand it. Pain was soemthing that went away and death did not bother me. All beings faced death in the end and so would I. I also had a lack of ambition. I already had what I wanted, so why want more?

It was these qualities the Emperor appreciated, the qualities that made me what I was. A weapon of great value. I stood at my Emperor's side, stock still to do as he bid. Nothing more and nothing less. And now, I had won greater respect in the eyes of Rane as I had claimed the head of Jedi Boricua, one of the few remaining Jedi. I remembered the fight and how it ended as I had pnched Boricua in the guts, he staggered for a second too long and my sabre cleaved his head off. What a glorious victory. What a moment to savor. The rewards were to be great, but the reward I want I already had. To defeat ones in battle was what I wanted. Worthy ones like Boricua.

In some ways it was a pity the Jedi were being exterminated. After they were gone, there would be no one left to fight. The Emperor of course sensed my thoughts.

"DO you truly wish that, Fire Blade?"

"I understand the necessity of destroying the Jedi My Lord. I would always however seek your enemies to defeat and if they are truly strong, then so much the better. There is little worth in crushing those who are weak"

"and you consider the Jedi the only ones who are truly strong?"

"I consider that the Jedi are the best My Lord. It is also my regret that I did not face the truly best of the Jedi"

Ahh yes. before Emperor Rane, a generation of Jedi had existed that defied belief. The loss of Masters like Figrin D'An, Yoghut and Q'Dunn had been huge blows and had opened a door tha Rane had used. Swooping while the Jedi had been weak made sure Rane's path to power was easier and I fought by his side often. We had won many fights and I was by his side when he claimed the Throne. That day, Fire Blade became Lord Fire Blade and my service to the Emperor truly began. Many other Jedi I had battled, always bringing back the head for my Master.

But still..... still I would never test myself against the truly best. They said there was one Jedi woud was able to create windstorms by the Force and Master Yoghurt was apparently a master illusionist. Names of the past.

Now, what was there now? A rabble. Hardly worth wasting time over.

As the Emperor's shuttle landed I continued to muse over battle past and battles my Emperor would have me do.

[NeVyen]

:: A small beep emits from Rane’s intercom. Scowling slightly he looks at it. It flashes red and beeps again. “What could these fools think warrants my attention now?” he ponders. The button seems to press itself. A voice filled with trepidations comes through. “Emperor, I have a top priority transmission from the Smeep King. Shall I put it through?” Rane shifts in his seat slightly, and brings his fingers together. “Put it through.”

An image shimmered up out of the holo projector three feet in front of the throne, but no Smeep King stood there. Instead, the person addressing the Emperor was none other than a man. He was roughly six foot in height, medium build, wearing jeans, a t-shirt, and a dark green coat.

“This was not the way I wanted to send the message, but I sincerely doubted that there was a snowball’s chance in hell of getting this through any other way. To the point: I’m a small fish in a big pond, despite the fact that I killed off the Rane’s Hawk’s crew and hid the ship. I come before you with a simple proposition” the tall figure gestured with his hands as he spoke this, “you leave me alone, and I will stop selling your military’s secrets. Have a nice day.”::

[Lilaena DeVille]

For the moment she was unseen, and therefore safe. There was no way she could reach the rendevous point with her employer (whoever it turned out to be) without flying into the middle of the biggest Imperial headache of her life.

Lilaena carefully directed The Devil's Advocate into the very outskirts of the asteroid belt, landing the freighter on a paticularly large rock. She activated the grasping limpet on the bottom of the ship, anchoring herself in place. She sighed, and pushed her hair back. Her forehead was damp with perspiration, and she loosened her collar. Asteroids were not something she had ever messed with before...the Kessel Run was one thing, she had shaved more parsecs off her time there than was reasonable. The Maw was an even greater threat than these floating chunks of rock ever would be. But still...

She pushed herself to her feet, and realized how hungry she was. I haven't eaten since Darven and I went to that cantina on Coruscant. Darven. She blinked back emotion, and steeled herself against crying again. Heading to the galley, she noticed how filthy she was, but was too hungry to bother changing clothes.

-----------------------------

After eating, she pulled herself back into the @#%$pit. The rendevous time was near...and there was a SSD occupying the point where it was to take place.

[Lt Commander Pax]

**The alarms were blaring... a barely controlled mayhem was going on in the ship bays... pilots were running to their fighters with R2 units in tow... Pax watched it... trying not to miss a thing... his R2 droid was already aboard "Tarris Pride"... better known as Red 1, Pax's X-wing... a young ensign stood beside Pax... a data pad in his hand recorded the departure of all of shuttles and frieghters... they where almost all gone... only LL's ship and the fighters remained... across the bay Pax saw Ogre and LL saying their departing words... he was sure that it was the same thing that he was hopping for with each of his rebel members... that they would see each other after the jump... Pax turned to the ensign...**

Go... you need to on board that ship...

Ens: Yes sir... good luck sir...

**with that the ensign took of in a quickened jog across the bay and to LL's ship... Pax looked over at LL and ogre and then at his chrono... they had to go...**

Ogre get that big green butt of yours in your A-wing... we going to have TIE's inbound any minute...

**He yelled across the bay before sprinting to Red 1 and climbing aboard... R2 D9 had already warmed up the engines and computers and she was ready to fly...**

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: As preparations were being made, LL tapped Ogre on the shoulder. Ogre turned around and faced his Master. ::

Ogre...We will meet again soon. May the Force be with you...always.

:: With that, LL walked up the gangplank, readying his ship's systems ::

[Lt Ysanne Isard]

"Jekaan, scramble all messages incoming from my father. Make it look like we can't receive his messages if he tries to reach us before we report to the Emperor. Nothing - and I mean nothing - will take away this chance."

Sometimes it was good to have an expert slicer with her. Not that she couldn't have done it herself - indeed, all Intel staff had been trained in code-slicing - but Jekaan would be much faster and more efficient at that sort of thing.

Landing at a hangar set aside for Intel staff - one that was closest to the private chambers of the Emperor - Ysanne gathered her belongings and and told Jekaan to deliver them to her own chambers. She grabbed the datapad, and went in search for her Emperor.

-------------------------

It didn't take too long to find him. She had just rounded a corner to enter the corridor that lead to his throne room, when she saw him walking up to it from the opposite direction. Ysanne quickly went to bow before him, not yet daring to lookup into his face. No one was allowed to do that unless they were bidden to do so - something that galled her even more, as her own father belonged to the elite group of people who didn't have to bow, and could always come to him unbidden. But that would soon change, if she had her own way this time.

"My Lord Emperor, I come before you with important news," she started, and knew that she was risking much by addressing him in such a forward way.

Emperor Rane stood watching her, amused at her boldness. 'Another one of their plots and schemes against each other? I would not be surprised.' He stretched out a hand and lifted up her bowed chin with it. "Tell me, Ysanne, what is on your mind then." But before she could speak, he silenced her by laying a finger upon her lips. Well he knew what these simple gestures meant to one who admired him so much. "Not here, my dear Ysanne - it is not safe. You of all people should know how important it is to keep security about these matters close. Let us go inside."

Ysanne let herself be lead, trailing after the most powerful man in the entire galaxy like a small child looking for a reward. She watched anxiously as he walked towards his chair, and, with a pleased sigh, lowered himself into it. A slight nervousness came over her, and she clutched at the datapad in her hand as if her entire life depended on the evidence it carried. As indeed, in some way, it did.

The Emperor let the silence grow longer, as he watched her from under half-closed eyelids. He felt fairly certain that he already knew some of what she was about to tell him, but it was always a welcome distraction to see how she, and her father, managed to turn evidence and events in such ways as to implement each other's presence in the most intriguing plots against the Empire. He sought for something to irritate her even further than merely making her wait.

"Tell me, my child, " - he watched her closely as he called her 'child', but if she was angered at being called such, she didn't show anything but a brief flicker of her eyes - "have you found out anything new about this person calling himself NeVyen? I would like to see him caught, but he appears to slip from our grasp every time we manage to get even the slightest hold on him."

Ysanne shook her head. "No, my Emperor, we have not. At least, it has not come to my attention. That is a matter my father last took an interest in." She paused, to take a deep breath, before speaking on. "My Lord, I need to bring to your attention a matter of the utmost urgency. I believe we have come across a spy inside Internal Security. A leak - a traitor, if you want to call it that."

"Yes?" Indeed, he had been right about her plotting again. What would it be this time?

[Lieutenant Ogre]

Once again, Ogre found his premonition of bad things to come, building within his, as he watched his Master enter his ship. He knew that something bad was going to happen and that it was not just the coming battle his commander had warned him of.

“May the Force be with us all Master, may it be with us all.”

His head lowered and he turned to make his way to his ship. He arrived at it and began to climb the ladder into the c0ckpit and he stopped briefly to watch R27 being loaded within his place behind the canopy. The small astromech droid beeped and whistled encouraging sounds, but Ogre’s face remained sullen, as he knew many would die this day, and some even at his own hands. He tried to push aside the feelings of regret that thought brought him as the canopy lowered over him and the engines began to hum to life.

Transports were exiting the hangar in front of him, making their hurried leap from the exit and turning quickly skyward, as Ogre looked down at his console and made the final adjustments before following the other craft from the hangar bound for the depths of space and whatever it may be that awaited him and all the other rebels in its expanse.

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

:: LL made sure everyone taking a seat on his ship were okay. Several Rebel technicians also tweaked the massive engines on the Oozaru II, and two more assisted LL in the c0ckpit, with limited fire control and other systems. LL grabbed the intercom microphone, and gave a final message ::

Alright, this is Anbir Hicchoru, you probably know me better as the Jedi Master Lounge Lizard. I can't promise you a smooth flight, but if we work together, I will try my best to make sure you make it through this flight. We will be among the last to leave out of our flight window, seeing as our engines are faster and can deal easier with a closing Imperial gap. Hang tight, brace on the bulkheads when things get dicey, and we should make it out of here. Rebel Command has also added a few superficial defense guns to the hull, to add some firepower against TIEs...so we shouldn't have to deal with them much. I'm going to begin to taxi the ship around the valley, to prepare for the evac.

[Lt Commander Pax]

**Pax sits in the c0ckpit of Red 1... She's ready for take off... but as is his tradition he will be the last to leave... he watches as the Oozaru II taxies out of the hanger and then up into the atmosphere... shortly followed by Ogre and his flight of A-Wings... the final fighters to leave before him are the 3 other X-Wings of Red Flight... with everyone gone the only sound was the high pitched whine of his engines reving... pushing the button on a remote control box Pax activated the thermal detonators placed around the base... If they had left anything behind the Imperials wouldn't get it... with that, Pax lowered the canopy and Red 1 soared into the blackness of space... immediately apon exiting the atmosphere Pax moved the selector switch on the S-foils and they moved into the "X" position... forming up with the rest of the fighters they began scanning and preparing for the first wave of TIE's that were sure to be not far off...**

[Navaria Tarkin]

Tondry always fascinated her. He was an excellent tactician and completely deserved his rank, but his arrogance was something that she always found amusing. "I bet you would like me to come with you on your next assignment." She grins slightly, "Unfortunately, I don't think that I can. At this point in time my Master has given me leave, but he could call upon my services soon..."

<Lordess Tarkin. I have news of the orders you wanted carried out.>

"One moment, Commander."

She returns to the monitor with a smile, "Excuse me Pierce, as you can see, I have some work to do. Perhaps another time then when I am not flying my desk." Her eyes narrow and her words are laced with in the intent of showing Tondry that she didn't find that little joke funny. "I look forward to the next time we speak, as always. Tarkin out."

She watches Tondry's face disappear to be replaced with the officer she spoke to before, "Well?"

<The Basilisk and the Glory have been diverted to M'Haeli, as have the Nemisis and the Invincible to Pydyr. Considering that Alderaan was in close proximity to the fleet, three shuttles have been sent with accompanying Stormtroopers there to make sure your point is made clear, M'Lord.>

"Excellent Commander Talek. You have done well. As soon as each target is taken care of, have the commanding officers contact me immediately."

<As you wish.>

And with a bow, the Commander disappears and is replaced with the reflection of Navaria's face on the screen. She sighs and now decides that perhaps going down to the planet is a good thing. Just for the reason to get away from all the military business that she hates so.

She gets up from her desk and heads to the refresher so she can make herself more presentable to her family.

[Lilaena DeVille]

De'Ville sat in the c0ckpit of her freighter and watched the evacuation of the Hoth base on her sensors. It pissed her off. Half of her payment was scooting away from her towards hyperspace, and, if she did nothing, would be lost forever. On the other hand, if she did try and follow the Rebels (she had been listening in on the transmissions from the closest SSD) she would most certainly be caught by the Imperials. And becoming entangled with them was not something she wanted, indeed, not something anyone wanted.

Lilaena sighed, and carefully piloted her ship off the asteroid...

[Dara Shadowtide BH]

:: Dara shakes her head and smirks as she receives the encrypted message from Emperor Rane. He obviously was impressed with himself in using a fairly new encryption code, however Dara had cracked that code early last week and was listening to the message within moments. Perhaps someday he will learn that the latest information and codes only come with someone who is on the underground tracks like she can be ::

"Hm, this is odd. An object? He wants me to retrieve a mere object? Although I much prefer a live target to bring in... ok well maybe a dead target, it truly makes no difference to me. After all, money is money. The smuggler carrying it is not in the Guild, but I know of her and I will have a little surprise waiting for her while I am en route."

:: Dara smiles and walks to the comms chair and opens a channel to one of her fellow Guild members ::

Dara: "This is Dara Shadowtide, do you read?"

Guild member: "Yes I read you, go ahead."

Dara: "I want you to proceed to just outside the Hoth system. There is someone there we need to detain for a bit, another bounty hunter. She has something I need and I will get it by any means I need to."

Guild member: "Understood. I await the transmission of the details."

Dara: "Sending them now. I will contact you when I near the system, until then do not let her get away."

Guild member: "I understand. Consider it done."

:: Dara sets the coordinates to the Hoth system and the stars flash by like streaks in space as she hits hyperspeed ::

[Aurra Sing BH]

:: Aurra receives the transmission from Dara and analyzes the data. She puts her hand along her chin and squints her eyes in thought. Lilaena Deville is a name she has heard before.

She sets a course for Hoth as she is already in the immediate vicinity. She also figures this is why Dara contacted her, since she was the Guild member in the area. Aurra comes upon the system in no time, and detects Lilaena's ship moving away from a large asteroid. She locks in with systems radar and monitors the ship's every move while she awaits her Leader's arrival.

Aurra stands up, stretches and glances out the view port, constantly monitoring the ship visually even though she has the coordinates in radar. She gathers her gear and readies it, anticipating a feisty battle from a fellow bounty hunter ::

[Lilaena DeVille]

Lilaena pulled at her hair as she skirted The Devil's Advocate around a moon, avoiding the gaze of the fleet which surrounded Hoth. TIEs were screaming through space, and the Rebels seemed to be in the fight of their lives. Or deaths... She watched a transport make the jump to lightspeed, and quickly ran the trajectory through her navicomp. There were several possibilities, and suddenly De'Ville didn't feel like trying to track them down just to demand the last half of her payment. A Holocron was a valuable object, surely there was more of a market out there for it.

She had been so absorbed in what she was doing that Lilaena was taken by surprise when she finally noticed the ship lurking behind her near the asteroid belt. "Blood and ashes! I -" She directed the freighter along the same path she had been taking, but started moving slowly away from the system, toward a place where she could make the jump to hyperspace. The other ship didn't seem to realize that Lilaena had seen it, but as The Devil's Advocate got farther away from Hoth, it came to life, and came after her.

De'Ville laughed, and kicked her engines into overdrive, pushing hard for the jump point. The navicomputer bleeped that it was ready with coordinates, and she looked down. Bespin was the best it could do!? Bloody gas planets.

[Darth Malice]

Taanab

"Launch Scimitar Wing, squadrons One and Three. ... Move pursuit line Theta to the northeastern quadrant of the planet."

With the battle joined and back under control, Admiral Tarkin was the image of stoic calm. It wasn't panic that had seized him when they arrived so far off target, but frustration at not having any tactical information on the state of his fleet in the wake of Needa's blunder.

On closer review, the newly demoted Commander wasn't a complete incompetent. Five Dreadnaughts and a full heavy attack line led by a Lancer Frigate had jumped in unexpectedly, not that it should have been enough against a Class 3 Imperial Star Destroyer. But worse still, Needa had done far more than underestimate his enemy. He dismissed them out of hand.

Tarkin turned toward the forward viewport again, regarding the black-clad figure that stood there as if soaking in the chaos raging outside. There would be hell to pay for such negligence, but he hoped Needa was as grateful as he should be that this happened under Darth Malice's command, not the Smeep King's ... or his previous commander, Darth Vader's. He knew working with another Admiral simply to maintain the ruse of the Victorious Squadron being the only attack force was a mistake.

The admiral quickly banished the thought as Lord Malice turned around. He knew it was too late, though, and felt his eyes being locked with the steeled gaze of the Sith. There was no such thing as keeping your thoughts to yourself on board the Executor.

"Admiral," he said with almost frightening calm.

Andron swallowed, remaining silent but looking back expectantly, patiently, waiting for orders.

"The Dauntless is in position."

Malice felt relief wash over the admiral like a shifting gale on the Dune Sea.

"Yes, M'Lord." Tarkin turned briskly toward Captain Lars and gave the signal. Deep within the shadow of the Super Star Destroyer, the main dorsal docking bay doors began to slide open.

[Slave Girl Aleema]

Aleema struggled with her shackles as she heard the commotion outside. She wondered how she could be put into this situation, her anger was strong toward Valdmar. Glancing toward Illiana she shook her head. Ana was leaning against the side of the cage as usual with her eyes shut. Aleema was never sure whether her teacher was ever really asleep. At times it seemed as if she was just in a constant trance, never actually reaching REM.

"Don't worry," Aleema jumped as Illiana spoke, "We won't be sold to any slave-masters today."

Aleema looked at Illiana as if she were crazy, "How the hell did you come to that conclusion? We're never not been sold, what makes today any different?" Illiana smiled, "I just know." Aleema became serious and stared at Illiana, "How is it that you always know things? The night the Hutt was killed you told me it was going to happen. I thought it was just that you had killed him yourself but other things have happened. You know things about that pig Valdmar. Why won't you tell me them?"

"You wouldn't understand Alee."

"Stop treating me like a little girl Ana! We have been through a lot of $#!% together and I know I've saved your life at least once. You owe me this much. What in the hell is so different about Valdmar that we can't fight him
like all the others?"

Illiana thought for a moment, "Alright Alee. Valdmar is what is known as a..." Suddenly shouting was heard from outside, it was Valdmar coming toward the cart.

"I've got a special buyer for you brat," Valdmar gestured toward Aleema then started to open the cage, "as for you "Mara" I've decided to keep you for myself, I think we'll get along wonderfully." The slave trader pulled Aleema out and tossed her to the ground. Illiana quickly slid out as well and stood in front of Valdmar.

"You're not taking her anywhere and you are beyond delusional if you think I will stay with you." Valdmar's eyes flashed in anger and he grabbed Illiana, "And what could you possibly do to stop me?" Illiana shut her eyes, "more than you realize." Illiana's voice echoed in Valdmar's head but he did not see her lips move. He stepped backward, releasing her.

"I knew it..." He smiled. Still confused as to what was going on Aleema jumped to her feet and rammed the slave-trader in the back with her shoulder. As he sprawled forward Aleema snatched the keys to her shackles from his belt and freed herself. Valdmar began to rise to his feet but as if she could almost walk on air Aleema leapt toward him, spinning twice then slammed him across the skull with her foot. Valdmar spun a 360 then slammed to the ground. Valdmar shook his head, amazed at how strong the young girl was. Aleema quickly tossed the set of keys to Illiana then advanced toward the seemingly weak slave-trader once again.

[Darth Turbogeek]

They had found him on Tattooine, deranged and incoherent, lashing out at anything that got near him. The Masters had been forced to use a barrage of stun blasts to put the insane man down, then a cocktail of drugs to keep him even slightly controllable. The Force power Q'Dunn had was now possesed by a madman, extremly potent but without the fine control a Jedi Master had. The intelligence once possesed by that mind was now gone and it's place was a whirlwind of dementia. The Council had requested he be bought to them and they examined his mind in the Inner Council chamber. Figrin D' An was the one who probed Q'Dunn's brain, seeking to find a way to cure it. But even with the help of Master Yoghurt, the wisest and msost learned Jedi of that time, they realised they could do nothing. Q'Dunn was now a liability and a dangerous one to the Jedi. How could they control the rages, the strength of this insane human?

For a while they studied him. They saw he had a compulsion to exercise, which they allowed to continue. They also saw if he was placed in a area of influence of a Yalsalamir, the periodic tantrums were less frequent and less damaging. Q'Dunn would simply use the Force mindlessly, lashing outat anything that was near, breaking any restraint and even at times counteracting the drugs they used to keep him calm. Rmaio put it well, it was like a 2 year old who had been given the abilities of a Jedi Master. No control but lethal if he could focus for any length of time. Thankfully, the ability to focus was curtailed by the madness.

The final mindscan was a sad day. Figrin D'An did it and reported ntohing other than a windstorm of voices and thoughts, totally unable to be seperated into anything of reason.

"His body is fit and well, but his mind may as well be dead. What shall we do, fellow Jedi" he had asked at the time. The Jedi code forbid killing except in the most dire of circumstances, thence they were left with the problem of looking after this human wreckage until he died - and being already a long lived half breed, that could have been for quite a long, long time. Finally they had settled on paying a mental institution to look after the Jedi for the rest of his life, with orders to make him dissappear from knowledge. A stroy was circulated that suggested Q'Dunn, better known in hte Galaxy as Darth Turbogeek had died as the result of a huge battle. In some way, the Jedi felt that is the way he should have ended up, not the sad state he was now. Not the wisest Jedi by any stretch, Q'Dunn instead was part of the Warrior brand of Jedi, able to fight through huge odds and live, defeating enemies and standing as a bringer of justice. Able to lead armies, the Jedi knew they had lost one of their greatest weapons, a Jedi trained in the arts of war, a warrior of Light. In the years that followed where the Jedi were killed or deserted and let to die, the Council made one last effort to bring Q'Dunn back as they strove to defeat the armies of Darkness, hoping that some use could be made of what once was once one of the most formidible Jedi's ever, but to no avail. The Council in the end was destroyed and the records of Q'Dunn's fate were destroyed, all of them. Not a single person knew where he was, apart from the select few who looked after him. No-one even knew he was alive.

And so he had faded from memory, forgotten and locked in a cell for 20 years until a doctor, new to the team, with hope and a memory for better times found out who Q'Dunn had been and set him loose once again......

--

The fruit seller, an ancient alien watched as the blue clad human stumbled drunkenly across the street. Not much interest in a drunk human it thought and turned back to it wares, beginning to spruke in Huttese, the unofficial language of Tattooine. The human swung around suddenly, lashing out at something only he could see and fell down the ground. The fruit seller tut-tutted and continue at his task of gouging credits out of the populance at large.

The inmate once again lashed out the burning heat that was attacking him, not even realising it was just sunlight and the heat was normal for Tattooine. A frustrated snarl came through his lips as he picked himself up. He wanted the burning to go and the harsh light, which stung his eyes, but it wouldnt. Hooting in exasperation, he began to stand up.

"THERE HE IS! STOP THANT MAN!"

The fruit shop owner, now with some customers looked up to see 4 burly beings all running at the drunk human. "Tapcafe bouncers. Looks like the drunk upset someone" grunted on customer. The proprietor agreed as they all watched what they expected to be a short scuffle. Maybe the drunk would get beaten up or even killed. No one cared, it was the nature of things on Tattooine. As long as you didnt step in where you were not wanted. A drunken bum being worked over was quite frequent. The proprietor wasnt worried. It was well known it paid good money to the Hutts for protection and only a fool would mess with a Hutt.

The drunk had turned at the shout and was swaying with red flush on his face. His eyes burned with fury and he bought his hands up into a laughable imitation of a defense. The customers and the proprietor began to turn away, knowing what was next. The sounds of dull thumps as fists or feet pounded. Silence for a second. The proprietor was about to hand over some fruit.....

CRASH!

One of the heavies smashed into a stall, collapsing it and sending items spinning away. Sqwarking in surprise, the propietor stared for a second and then looked up, to see with shock the drunk was not only still standing but had beaten the four heavies to pulp. Nervous glances all around and people whisphered in amazement. The drunk stumbled sideways and righted himself.

The propietor looked at it destroyed stall in disbelif, then in anger. It stormed out fo the shop and moved at the drunk. "HEY! Who's going to pay for the damages to my shop!"

The drunk ignored it and swayed some more. A piece of drool splattered onto the ground.

"ANSWER ME!" The proprietor screamed. "I have Hutt protection, you pay else you will suffer at their hands!"

Still no answer. In fact the drunk wasnt even looking at the proprietor. It had enough and pulled out it's blaster, aiming to stun this drunk and drag the damages from him - or hand him over to the Hutts for punishment. The proprietor pointed to shoot....

The drunk turned with a snap and exploded into action, kicking the blaster away and moving in to smash the proprietor into the ground with three clean and powerful punchs, then turnign away to sway again. The proprietor recovered and looked up in amazement.... it hadnt even seen any of the blows! How could anyone move that fast? It wouldnt matter now, the propietor began to scream for guards. In a few seconds, the first trooper arrived, blaster drawn and ready to fire. Just as quickly, the drunk reacted, bolting. The trooper yelled to the squad following

"He's headed to the slave market! After him!"

The fruit proprietor smiled through it's broken face. Now the drunk would suffer.

--

The maelstorm continued to swirl around him as he fought to stay above the countless images and voices all contesting his will. Fighting back, he created a barrier if will that helped to stem the power of the maelstorm nd even had enough peace to begin to figure out what was going on.

Something was wrong with his mind he knew and he knew that it had been a long time since he had been able to actually surface from the tornado of jumbled thought. He suspected it had been years. Gradually he was piecing together who he was. His name he didnt know, but there was some flashes of memory. A trooper coming at him with a leveled balster....

No, that wasn't a memory.... somehow he was seeing the now! Panic gave him strength and he screamed above the maelstorm RUN!!!

For a brief second the tornado gave way and he suddenly had control of his body. He could see the crowds, the sprawling beings, the trooper. A glance and he saw a way to escape. Turning, he forced his body to move. The maelstorm came back as a result, more powerful than ever, battering him into submission and squeezing him it seemed into a tight corner, desperate to keep seperate from the storm. But for a percious second, he had control

[Darth Malice]

Lord Malice smiled grimly as his attention was drawn to the dogfight between Scimitar Wing and Taanab's X-Wings. Two squadrons of Rebel fighters wove an intricate dance with the Empire's elite flying advanced Tri-fighters and Interceptors. The spectacle made him long for his own flying days.

The battle was going well. But the planetary shield made it all elementary.

Dwarfed in the shadow of the 8 km flagship, an oblong, durasteel sphere emerged lazily from the center docking bay. Weapon tubes lined the equator of the 1900 meter battle platform, converging in the image of a single, unblinking eye that watched the raging battle. More accurately, it watched the planet, as already thousands of dedicated energy receptors fed data to tactical displays on board.

Captain Lars turned to Admiral Tarkin, more than a little smug satisfction in his voice. "Torpedo Sphere is away."

The Dauntless launched from its holding position further astern under the Executor, dropping out of her shadow with the torpedo sphere, gripped in tractor beams in tow. The Sphere was mobile on its own power, but could attain less than a third the speed of a Victory II.

With the Taanab starfighters in disarray, a squadron of Interceptors broke off, letting their Tri-fighter counterparts keep the "crosses" at bay. With TIE and Star Destroyer protection, the sphere was hanging safely over the planet quickly. DER's continued to flood the technicians on board with an energy field analysis, probing and ultimately finding the weakest point in the energy fluctuations generated by the shield.

Skirmish lines continued to protect the torpedo sphere. Not long after, the Retribution scrambled the last of Scimitar Wing's squadrons. Twelve TIE-bombers rocketed for relayed coordinates in parade formation. The Taanab counterforce mobilized in desparation, managing to destroy three of the bombers after picking off several TIE fighters flying interference around them.

But the further testament to the strength of simple farmers just wasn't enough before the might of the New Empire.

"FIRE!"

The entire circumference of the torpedo sphere blazed to life. 500 proton torpedo tubes launched a deadly salvo focused on that single point on the planet's shield. Time stood still in the intensity of the explosion, visible from a planet away.

In those seemingly endless microseconds, the eye of the sphere blinked. Green fire pierced the heart of the explosion from 10 heavy turbolasers fired in concert. Sensors registered the atmosphere of the planet through a 6 meter gap at the point of impact. The proton torpedoes had punched a hole wide enough for a single follow-up shot.

In a remote valley on the surface of Taanab, a critical shield generator station was vaporized in a hail of massive green pillars from the sky.

"FIRE!"

Barely after the flash of the shield assault had died, the remaining TIE-bombers launched their payload of proton torpedoes at the now widening hole in the planetary shield.

On the bridge of the Executor, Lord Malice turned toward Admiral Tarkin and gave a nod of approval. The comm array flashed as if on cue from that nod. The Rebels signaled their surrender.

[Lady Mara Jade]

"You're not so tough when your victims aren't in chains, are you?"

Valdmar looked up at the young girl, "You dare mock me?! I will make you pay for your actions!" Aleema only smirked arrogantly at the angry slave master and picked up a metal rod from the ground that had broken off of one of the nearby cages. Valdmar seemed to be in another world when Aleema looked back at him to strike. His now clear eyes were looking up in her direction but he seemed to be looking right through her.

"Aleema!" Illiana called, "Get away from him...NOW!" Aleema tried to comply but it was too late, within a second she found herself soaring backward wildly, only stopping 20 yards later when she smashed through the back wall of the stage room. Illiana sensed the girls life signs fading, her ribs were broken and her left shoulder was dislocated. Valdmar stood triumphantly and walked up to Illiana, his hand still glowing with power.

"You were wise not to confront me," He said as he caressed her cheek with his fingertips, "Although I did sense that you desired to." Illiana looked in Aleema's direction then began to back away from Valdmar. But he quickly grabbed her, "Ignore the girl! We're leaving." Illiana freed one of her arms and struck Valdmar across the face," I'm not going anywhere with you, sorcerer...your power over me is limited."

Valmar's eyes narrowed, "If that's the case then why didn't you fight me sooner? No child... you are no match for me." Valdmar's eyes rolled back into his head as he began chanting in an unknown language. Slowly, energy began to surround him. Illiana acted quickly and jumped toward the sorcerer. Sensing her movement Valdmar grabbed the slave by the neck and tossed her aside with ease. Illiana soared through the air rapidly crashing into several cages and knocking them on their sides. Valdmar began to walk toward her again, his eyes now spurting with energy.

By the time Illiana regained her bearings Valdmar was standing over her menacingly. He lifted his hand as electricity began to pour from it then sent a bolt down in Illiana's direction. She quickly rolled aside then jumped to her feet. Valdmar rushed toward and swung his fist but she sidestepped, at the same time grabbing hold of his arm and slamming his elbow over her knee. Valmar screamed in agony as the bone was snapped then fell to his knees. Illiana drove her foot into his forehead sending him to his back then knelt down beside him and placed both her hands on the sides of his face. A look of fear crept upon Valdmar's face as he realized that Illiana was probing his mind. He tried to struggle but his mobility had been completely restricted.

With his teeth clamped shut he began to speak to her, "What...are you doing...to me?"

Illiana only smiled.

[Emperor Rane]

Coruscant
Emperor Rane listened, his face an emotionless mask as Ysanne Isard began to detail the nature of this ‘traitor’ which she had uncovered. So far, she had been purposely omitting a name from her accusations. Not that she needed to say who it was that she was pointing fingers at... no, that was fairly obvious. After having listened to her come before him with similar charges numerous times in the past, he didn’t even need to listen to the proposed crimes. But still he played along, letting her enjoy her potential moment of triumph over her father. Perhaps this time, he would play along a little further: Armand Isard was well past his prime, in any event. Besides... who better to fill the position than someone ruthless enough to, time after time, attempt to have their own father executed?

The Emperor let a small frown crease his features. From what she was telling him, he might not even need to play along. Her wild accusations, for once, where starting to sound plausible: even likely. Before she could continue on any further, he waved his hand dismissively at her.

“My dear Ysanne, I think that this time you may be onto something. I wish for the transcripts you spoke of to be brought before me as soon as possible. If there is a traitor amongst our midst, I will see to it personally that his screams will echo from my chamber walls for months to come.”

Ysanne was absolutely elated at the thought that she might have finally caught that rat-bastich that called himself her father for good. It had taken her a lot of time, and no small amount of credits, but it looked like she had finally done it. Sometimes, she had wondered if it would’ve been simpler to simply put a blaster to his head and squeeze the trigger. She did her best not to let her excitement show too much on her face.

“I would love to stay a bit longer, but I’m afraid that I have pressing matters on Hoth that require my personal attention. As for you, you have your orders: find the one who calls himself ‘NeVyen’ and capture him. Alive.”

“Alive, sir?”

“Yes. It would prove far more beneficial to me if I could bend him to my will. And...”

Emperor Rane closed his eyes for a moment, apparently thinking about something. In reality, he was reaching out with the Force; something that seemed just outside his grasp. His eyes opened once more when he thought of what he was going to say.

“I believe that he has some amount of Force sensitivity. Yes, he will prove quite valuable once he’s under my control. Bring him before me and you will have yourself a promotion, and possibly even a reward. If you feel that you require assistance, please say so now and I will assign my apprentice, Navaria Tarkin, to accompany you.”

With that, he turned on his heel and began making his way towards the door, the Royal Imperial Guards once again flanking him. On his way out, he tapped the button on his comm. link, speaking into it as he walked along.

“Prep the ISD Phantasm. Tell the crew that the Emperor will be arriving shortly. I will be taking fleet IM00-6C with me to Hoth. I want Holonet broadcasting equipment loaded into the ship before I depart. Oh... I wish for Fawn and Flavia to be brought aboard the Phantasm, as well.”

There was a brief pause, and a short burst of static before his reply came. Nervously, the man questioned the Emperor’s order.

“Fawn and Flavia, sir? The vornskrs?”

“That is correct. Is there a problem with my request?”

“Well, sir, the last time we moved them around, one of them... mauled a stormtrooper.”

Rane furrowed his brow at that statement... Stormtroopers, although plentiful, were not that easy to come by. He didn’t understand why it was that his pets were so aggressive towards anyone but himself. No, that wasn’t entirely true... they were generally passive around any of the Sith. Their tails had been cut off at birth, which was supposed to curb their aggressiveness. He shrugged, pressing the button to reply back.

“Toss them some Bantha meat before you remove them from their cages. If they get out of control, stun them. I don’t care how you do it, but I want them on that ship within 20 minutes. That is all.”

--

The cold blackness of space pressed against the hull of the Star Destroyer Phantasm like the vast ocean that it was, pouring over every crevice & opening. The faint flicker of stars bounced off of the numerous glass viewports, most of which had a dark tint lining them in the first place. Across one of the upper levels, a particularly elongated viewport provided a window to the outside, which Emperor Rane was distractedly staring out of at the moment. The silence of his private chamber was punctuated only by the soft thuds as he drummed his fingers against the armrest of his chair. On either side of him where Fawn and Flavia, sleeping on the floor. He looked down at Flavia on his right side and silently watched as the stub of a tail she had left twitched back and forth in her sleep.

Rane’s eyelids began to slide shut as he allowed himself to slip into a trance-like state in preparation for the trip ahead of him. His mind drifted, and fell into something very similar to dreaming. Similar, but not quite. Images and sounds began to stream by his mind’s eye in a phantasmagoria of nightmarish flashes. The screams of the tormented echoed through his ears, and visions of genocide assaulted him from every direction. Before he fell too deeply into his slumber, a small smile managed to creep it’s way across his visage. For it was in these cries of suffering, these pictures of torment, that he managed to find respite.

--

For what seemed like the hundredth time today, Emperor Rane’s comm. link warbled a short series of beeps at him, waking him from his rest. He didn’t need to listen to the message to know what it was going to say, but he did so, anyway.

“Sir? We are within 300 clicks of the Hoth system.”

“Very Good”, he intoned. “Deploy the fleet. I want you to capture as many rebels as possible, relatively uninjured. It’s time I made an example of them. And prepare my personal escort to the planet’s surface.”

“As you command.”

Instantly alert, his two pet vornskrs hoped to their feet, golden eyes surveying their immediate surroundings. Simultaneously, they silently strode over to his side, their muscles flowing and rippling just under the skin. On of them began to nuzzle her snout against his side, and he reached down a hand to scratch her behind the ear. As he walked down the halls of the ship, he smiled at the nervous glances that were thrown his way. As if the Emperor himself weren’t enough reason to cower, his pets certainly didn’t make the prospect of approaching him any more appealing.

Less than one standard hour later, Emperor Rane was descending to the planet’s surface onboard a TIE Advanced, his face frozen in an unmoving frown. Something was out of place here... this wasn’t just another Rebel base. Rane could sense the traces of residual energy. And it wasn’t faint, either: the air practically crackled with energy. There had been Force-users present here not too long ago. And seeing as how all the Sith were accounted for that meant that there were still some Jedi he had left to eradicate. Unconsciously, his hands began to ball into tight fists: Whoever they were, they were gone now.

Rane’s personal escort touched down softly on the thick layer of snow and, beside that, a few transport ships landed just as carefully. Before the Emperor could so much as lower the ramp of the ship, the large doors of the other transports simultaneously flew open. Stormtroopers piled out of the vessels in files, each clad in cold-weather gear. One after the other, they lined up and waited for their ruler to step forth.

If there were a singular thing that could make the surface of the planet Hoth instantly seem colder, the Emperor was it. He strode with a calm passiveness outside, still wearing only his heavy black robes. A few of the soldiers turned their heads to look at one another, wondering how it was that he could stand the sub-zero climate with nothing more than flimsy robes. But, then again, he was the Emperor. It seemed like anything was possible for him. It was as if he had been elevated beyond such trivial things as the planet’s temperature.

He stood motionless for a handful of heartbeats, his hooded visage turning from one end of the soldiers to another. The Stormtroopers almost shuddered as a whole, for even though they couldn’t see his eyes, it felt as if he was staring at each one of them, his intense gaze boring into their minds. With a fluid motion, he brought up his arms, lightly grasping the sides of his hood and sweeping it back behind him. A few of the younger troops gasped as he did so, having never had the privilege of taking in his uncovered face before. They were not the first to have the same reaction: Many people before them had been shocked to see just how young the ruler of the New Empire was. Most of those same people had died, mistakenly underestimating him based upon his age. He addressed the gathered troops, his voice surprisingly clear, yet very baritone.

“Commander, please step forth.”

A tallish man stepped forth, clutching tightly at the full-length jacket that covered his white uniform. The badges of rank stood out like a beacon against the colourless cloth. He addressed his superior simply with a “Sir?” and stood at attention.

“I wish for the captured Rebels to be brought before me at once. And have the troops bring out the broadcasting equipment.”

The clapped his fist against his chest in a salute and turned away to carry out his orders. Emperor Rane’s hand casually fell to his side, coming to a rest on the handle of his lightsabre. Within just a minute or two, several of the Stormtroopers returned, equipment in tow. They set it up under his direction, facing the input lens in his direction. It was only a few more minutes before the Commander returned, half a dozen men wearing Rebel uniforms in chains behind him.

The fingers of Rane’s hand wrapped tightly around his lightsabre, unhooking it from his belt clip but not igniting it. He walked over to the captives with a slow and steady pace, drawing out the moment as long as he could. He motioned for the ‘trooper working the Holonet equipment to begin broadcasting. Looking at the captured soldiers for a moment longer, he turned to face the camera once more. He spoke loudly, making sure that every word rang clear in the still air.

“These... are a handful of the Rebel scum that we have captured on the surface of this planet. They seek to undermine not only my authority, but also the authority of the New Empire as a whole. They try relentlessly to tear down what we have worked so hard to build. In essence, they wish to steal the very food from your children’s mouths; to take your jobs away from you; and to steal away everything that you hold dear.”

As he spoke, one of the captives could control his anger no longer. Still chained up, he made a dash at the Emperor. Without so much as turning around, Rane raised a hand, making a gesture in the air. The charging man’s eyes bulged as he stopped in his tracks, falling to his knees. His hands helplessly began to claw at his throat, trying to tear away the invisible grasp that was cutting off his air supply. Within moments, he fell over dead. Rane continued to speak as if nothing had transpired.

“... But your Emperor is not a man easily trifled with. I will go to the ends of the Galaxy to see to it that this threat to my people is wiped out. I will not abide rabble-rousers in my Empire. This broadcast is to set an example for what becomes of those who try to poison and corrupt my influence.”

With that, he turned back to face the prisoners. Clenching his teeth in a grin, he glowered at them for a moment, allowing the tension to build. “Kneel...”, he said simply. But it was obvious that the men all had too much dignity to comply. Rane motioned with a slight nod of his head and several Stormtroopers walked up behind the captives. In unison, they each raised their blaster rifles, bringing the butt of the guns down on the Rebel men, forcing them to their knees.

“Each of you is to die, and it is the people that will choose your deaths for you.”

Within moments, each of the gathered men (save for the prisoners themselves) began calling out suggestions, like anxious children waiting to be called on. Cries of “Cut off their heads!” and “Tear out their hearts!” filled the air. The Emperor motioned for silence and the crowd died down until the surrounding area became dead silent. The sound of the breeze was the only thing that could be heard for a few moments before there was a click, followed by a hum, as Rane ignited the blade of his lightsabre, it’s purple glow encompassing it’s immediate surroundings and bathing them in it’s hue. He glared at the first of the men for only a few more moments, letting the harsh realization of what was about to be done set into his mind, before he brought his weapon around in a wide arc.

The blade passed through his neck muscles in a clean strike, severing his head from the rest of his body. The wound cauterized, his head fell to the ground and rolled a few inches in the snow, and through a little bit of Force manipulation, it stopped to face the camera. The crowd let out a cheer as one, and Emperor Rane patiently waited for them to quiet down before moving on to the next man. He proceeded to execute the next three men in whatever manner the majority of the crowd requested: Shoving his lightsabre through the heart of one man, snapping the second’s neck, and choking the third. Finally, he came to the last captive, smiling warmly at him, like a father might smile at his child. The crowd was still calling out suggestions, with a good number of them requesting a true showing of his power. He motioned for silence once more.

“Do you have any idea what I have planned for you, child?”

The man spat on the ground, a loosened tooth coming out with his saliva, before speaking up. He did his best to make his voice sound indignant, and managed some degree of success.

“I honestly don’t give a Wampa’s rear what you have in mind. Just do it and be quick about it!”

The Emperor grinned at hearing his statement. Pressing a button on it’s side, he shut down his lightsabre and returned it to his hip. Continuing to speak loudly, Rane measured his next words carefully.

“Commander, release this man.”

There was a silent shock that rippled though everyone present, including the Rebel prisoner. Almost reluctantly, the Commander stepped forward and unlocked his shackles before stepping back, his blaster raised at the Rebel just in case.

“Never let it be said that the Emperor is a man without mercy or compassion. This man is to go free: he will not be harmed by any of the Imperial Troops. Is that clear?”

A few men murmured their discomfort, none wishing to speak their concerns aloud.

“I said... Is that clear?”

Each of his men mumbled a conformation of his order, and the now-free man wasted no time in making a mad dash back in the direction of the abandoned base. With a wave of his hand, Rane motioned for the broadcasting equipment to be shut off. The Commander that released the Rebel jogged over to the Emperor, saluting him once again by clapping a fist to his chest.

“Sir? Do you wish for us to recapture the Rebel scum?”

“Negative.”

“May I be so bold as to ask why, Sir?”

“It’s quite simple, Commander… Allowing him to escape will prove far more beneficial to me in the long run than killing him. We will ensure that a homing beacon is placed on whatever ship he decides to use as he departs. Even if he doesn’t lead us to wherever the rest of the Rebels are, he will spread word of what transpired here to any that didn’t see this broadcast. He will instill fear where I cannot. That, in and of itself, is valuable to me.”

The Commander bowed and stepped away as Emperor Rane began to make his way back to his escort. On his way, he brought up his comm. link once more, this time sending a message to the Bounty Hunter he had been in contact with.

“Shadowtide... how goes the mission I assigned you? I require that the object in question be acquired before that smuggler gets it into Rebel hands. And a slight change… I wish for her to be captured and brought to the nearest Imperial convoy for interrogation. That is all.”

Closing his comm. link, he stepped aboard his transport and sat down, closing his eyes in meditation once more.

<img src=http://nupraptor.clanhappy.com/emperorrane.jpg>

[Lilaena DeVille]

Lilaena shouted obsenities at the ship behind her, daring it to catch her before the hyperspace jump. Just a few more seconds... The pursuing ship leveled its guns at The Devil's Advocate and opened fire. A blast rocked the freighter, but the shields held.

She sucked in her breath and reached for the hyperdrive controls, hand ready to pull down and eject her freighter into hyperspace. The ETA counter ticked...

...2...

...1...

The knuckles on Lilaena's hand whitened, and she closed her eyes as she started to pull the lever.

*edit: TTT*

[Sniper Tondry]

Pierce chuckled. ' Oversensitive as always, Navaria my dear,' he shook his head slowly, allowing disappointment to mask his sharp features. ' A dangerous failing. I hope you do not fall into trouble when dealing with Ysanne Isard as my vision suggests.'

Tondry drew a breath and let it out slowly and calmly. His eyes widened as a cold, emotionless calm settled over him like a palpable thing.

The Unifying Force was at work.

Sweeping out of his chair, Pierce headed for his wardrobe. He selected something undecorated, simple, and tasteful. Rane appreciated humility, and Pierce Tondry had no true need for an ego among the mighty.

An hour later, Pierce walked off his personal shuttle into one of the Death Star's docking bays. Emperor Rane knew he was here, so he would be summoned at some point.

But at the moment, that was unimportant. Hopefully, while he was quartered aboard the Death Star in meditation. Hopefully, Rane's powerful Dark presence would allow for Tondry's instincts to come into focus. And then the future would be dealt with, as so many other threats had been- destroyed.

Pierce rubbed his chin as he entered the Death Star's corridors. It had been a long time since anything had challenged him.

After this pathetic new uprising of Rebels had been dealt with, it was probable nothing ever would.

[Darth Turbogeek]

What if – 3

“Eeeehhhhh………”

The bundle of rags moved slightly as the muffled groan came forth, low and full of pain. A hand mowed slowly out forward, then stopped. The desert suns, no longer powerful due to their setting, shone in a lurid redness as dusk began to settle over the desert world. Still with the reflected heat blasting off the sand’s surface, the hand twitched in reflex as it touched the hot grains. The hand dug beneath the surface, burrowing into the coolness just a bare few centimetres below the heat tortured upper crust.

The rags resolved them selves into tattered clothing as the human began to move slightly. With painful hesitation, the head was raised and a pair of brown eyes opened and blinked as the still powerful glare cut into the retinas. Tears washed into the eyes and he blinked them away, whilst also trying to squint to see where in the Galaxy he was.

And also why he had this incredible headache that seemed to threaten to tear his head apart. He put his head down and when he lifted it back up, dark had just about overtaken the land and the temperature was dropping with surprising rapidness. He also found himself with enough energy to rollover, to stare into the sky and the stars that were appearing at a rate that could only be achieved in the middle of a vast desert.

Where am I?

He decided to get up, but as he lifted his head, pain washed through his brain, making him flop back down again. Gasping, he waited for the throbbing to recede before trying again, his time much more slowly. He got into a sitting position, before opening his eyes and surveying the area.

He also became aware he was hellishly thirsty.

Sunburnt hands reached down and stopped – that was not the water bottle he had been carrying. It had been metal, with a self powered cooling unit. This bottle was hardly more that a skin. Bringing the bottle up, he also noted the clothes he wore were too coarse, made from some sort of animal fibre, not the synthetics he normally wore. Too thirsty for the moment, he uncorked the bottle and drank and nearly spat out the first mouthful – the water inside was searingly hot. He cursed as he barely managed to keep the water in his mouth and swallow, managing a splutter afterwards. Mindlessly, he waited a few minutes, took another tiny sip. And another. In this manner, he consumed a fair bit of the liquid in the manner that was best for the body suffering dehydration, his headache slow receding as well. Eventually, he began to ponder again, especially after his thirst had been quenched and he had re-stopped the bottle – which in reality was more like a big flask, carrying something like 5 litres.

He carefully looked over the now dark landscape, realised that with darkness now on the land, there would be precious little to see. It was better he spent his time and energy working out where he was and what he was doing in strange clothes and why there seemed to be the residue of a strange vortex seemingly just outside of his conscious, that was receding even as he examined it.

Odd.

Even more odd was the fact not a hint of his equipment he had been carrying to fight the Hutts that infested this planet. Not even his lightsabre, which greatly disturbed him. No sabre, no weapons, not even the custom built armour he habitually wore. Had something gone wrong? Had something forced him to fly in disguise into the wastelands, with only the present clothes and also the water? Putting a hand out, he brushed some more fabric. He patted it, felt it’s size and heard a gurgling, meaning it was a carry pack like the ones desert travellers carried, also filled with water. Well.

At least he knew his name and his memory was clear up to the time he had come to this planet. After that… there was nothing but vague shadows and even then the only one he could make sense of was red. And the smell of flowers. Funny only those two things seemed signifigant. Some loose sand mode his chest itch. He began to scratch, then stopped – a puzzled look on his face. He patted his chest, then his stomach, then quizzically opened the cloak and peered down at his front.

Okay, not only was he in the wrong clothes, he was in the wrong body. Fit, but not excessively so, he could only stare in disbelief as he was now significantly well defined. In fact, now as he felt his arms, he really began to be concerned. He wasn’t just fit now, he was hyperfit, with muscle mass that would have done a male model proud.

I’m in the desert, I have no idea where I am and I have no idea what’s happened and I have no idea how I go this way, he thought. Yep that seemed to sum it up really well.

Even consulting the Force didn’t answer his questions. All he could tell was that a degree of time had past and there was not even a reference point he could use to judge just how much.

Well, fine mess your in this time Turbogeek, he thought. Have you lost your sanity? Or maybe he had gotten it back? He decided he wasn’t going to answer those questions sitting on the ground in the middle of a dirt ball, he was going to have to find out the answers.

Picking himself up, he was nearly floored by a bout of dizziness, nearly throwing up. He barely contained his lurching stomach, swallowing as the taste of bile flooded his mouth. He picked un the backpack, shouldered it, also picking up the flask. The Jedi unplugged the carrying container again and drank deeply, the now cool water deeply refreshing, even invigorating. Reaching out with the Force, he scanned as far as he could, looking for a hint of a settlement. Right at the edge of his range, several kilometres away, he felt what could be a few humans. With no other real choice, he settled the pack on his back, re-stopped the flask and began to walk in the indicated direction.

Being dark, he did miss his foot quite a few times, sometimes stepping off the edge of dunes, tripping into holes. Fortunately, none were a real problem. Also, his sense of direction was getting stronger about the direction of any humans, now able to sense them clearly as well as a few alien species. Good. This could in fact be one of the major cities that were on Tattooine. Maybe even Mos Eisley? That would be even better. There was these days a New Republic mission there, despite the fact this was a lawless outpost. Taking another sip of water, he continued on through the darkness.

It turned out much further than he thought and hence it was well past midnight when tired, stumbling a bit from exhaustion, he walked past the first line of houses and began to enter the city itself. Oddly, the city seemed to have changed since he had left it, only what, a couple of days ago at most? He had to admit, not as much as his own body had, but still for the keen eye, something was quite wrong. Stalls were in different places. A door was different. A new building, another knocked down.

He felt somewhat sandbagged, especially when a speeder went past that was a model he had no idea of. What WAS going on?

Maybe he was tired and the heat of the day had gotten to him, played tricks on his mind. Maybe he needed sleep.

Walking for some distance, he finally came across a inn. The door was open there was some activity inside, so he walked in. He covered his face to a degree with the rags he wore, went through the doorway, to be greeted by some species he did not recognise.

“Hey! You not come in here! Bums sleep in gutter!” it snapped.

“Bum? I must be going up in the world friend. A room at once” His voice was calm, rich and deep, but there was a underpin of deadly purpose. The alien buzzed, surprised by the tone of authority, before replying.

“A room? You no can pay for room! How you think you pay, when you cant pay for clothes?? Where’s your credits?”

“I don’t have credits. I have something much better”. He shifted and took off the carry pack, allowing it to slam on a table. The water in it sloshed. “Now. Will you give me a room, or will I take my wealth elsewhere?”

The alien glanced at the bag. On a planet like Tattooine, the value of something was marked by it’s demand and supply. On a desert planet of no water, the liquid that gave life was more precious than any amount of credits. And for someone to be carrying litres of it….. “Ahhh! Yes, yes! Will do nicely! Get you a room now! Wait here!” Also helped the Jedi had waved a hand slightly and influenced it’s mind via the Force.

The alien buzzed off and the Jedi turned to scope out the room, taking off his partial face covering. Looking about, he saw beings of all types in a cantina setting, drinking, gambling. A few watched a holodeck and some sort of play, a mock execution of some sort. Turbogeek shrugged his shoulder. Whatever pressed your buttons….

The alien came back and moved up to the Jedi from the side. Turbogeek heard the alien gasp and felt it shock in the Force.

“Is something wrong?” he asked.

“N…. n…noo….. please… c..ome this way….”

Again he shrugged his shoulders and failed to notice a Verpine point at him. He did however feel a wave of terror and fear sweep the room and it became silent. He turned to the room and frown as he waled out to follow the alien.

And noted every single face was turned to look at him. Some in anger, some in shock.

Most in fear.

Well, it was just one more thing that didn’t add up. Why in the Force would anyone be scared of a wander like him? He turned away and followed the alien out to where his room was.

--

The bar patrons watched the departing human and almost to a being, they turned and looked back at the broadcast of the executions at Emperor Rane’s hand. And looked at each other, scared, bewildered.

The same dark hair.

The same coloured eyes.

The patrons began to leave, trying to look casual, but In a second, it had turned into a stampede and the bar cleared out quickly. The alien came back from showing the stranger to his room, saw the last stragglers leaving. Usually, that would be bad. But if this stranger was whom be thought it was, it was the least of it’s problems. Some of the employees of the bar hadn’t left, but fear was in their eyes.

The alien swallowed, saw the holo and in his own mind, his worst fears were reality.

“I want our guest well looked after” he croaked. No one felt inclined to argue.

[NeVyen]

Nar Shadda, the Vertical City:

In a second story apartment, a lone soul stares at three seperate displays. Alphanumeric characters dance across the screen, raw code that NeVyen casually reads like Basic. Two hyperspace routers down, one off of Corellia (minor router), and two major ones to the Outer Rim.

"Well, shiz happens, just gonna have to work around it."

A massive offical galaxy brodcast packet causes a surge in activity. The slicer swore something awful. His job would have to wait. Keys are pressed and the left display shows Jeren Rane, the Emperor, executing Rebels. The crowd was massive, leering, and rowdy. Morgan stared nocommitally, but cringed slightly as the first man died in a gruesome spectacle, winced for the second, and pulled his hands down his face for the third. Nev gazed on as Jeren let the fourth man go free. He shook his head.

"Bastard," he thought, "you are one frellin' bastard."

NeVyen quickly rearagend himself, and focused on the task at hand. He took advantage of the new lull in traffic, he bombards a military router with false requests, simultaneously accessing it's diagnostic protocols. He uploads a script, and the router now simply returns all packets it recieves, with fresh access codes and a shiny new security system to boot. He would keep track of dataflow there, just for the sheer entertainment.

While he would never join the Alliance, he certainly didn't mind lending a hand where their agenda's coincided. Just for shiz and giggles, he decided to send a message that let them know where the empty VSD was. He bursts a coded transmission, bouncing it off the newly "disabled" hyperspace router, and then promplty nukes the router's memory.

Well, back to work.

-- Just fixing your ezcodes, bud. They were a bit screwy. Re-Edit it yourself when you get back. --Nup

[Armand Isard]

The room was bathed in a dark-orange glare of the sun setting on the horizon. Dust danced in the bright light, before the air control unit on the ceiling could suck it in as it rose higher and higher.

The silhouette of a man stood before the central transparisteel window. His face was hidden in the shadow of his own form, and a redish corona shone brightly around his body.

Long moments passed, as the orange glare of the sun darkened further to a deep red, until it looked as if the room, and everything in it was bathed in a sea of blood.

A casual glance around the large cavernous room revealed it to be almost unfurnished. A large desk in front of the window, an imposing chair behind it, two chairs besides that - that was all that made the room habitable. The large library of datacards and old-fashioned leather-bound books that took up an entire wall to one side had an unused look about it, as if it serves only as decoration, not any use. A computer console on the other side of the room, and a large framed painting of Emperor Rane in one of his favorite poses hanging from the far wall made up the rest of the furniture.

The blood-red glow was shaded as the silhouette moved aside and uttered a short command in a low, aristocratic voice. The transparisteel darkened slowly from the top of the bottom, and the sun's crimson glow was banished from the room.

The man at the window turned around, and now, in the low light the shaded windows allowed to shine through, his features were clearly visible. A thin, long face framed in thin white hair, a high forehead, a hawkish nose, a thin-lipped mouth that seemed unaccustomed to smiling, and a pair of dark eyes that looked upon the world with an inhuman and malevolently cold glare, made up his face. He was dressed in a spotlessly white uniform, with just a simple code-cylinder adorning his breast pocket. His hands were tracing invisible patterns on the desk-top in front of him, as he seemed lost in thought, his mouth pinched and his eyes narrowed.

'If everything has gone as planned, she and that brainless fool of a slicer she has trailing after her will be dead by now. Any moment should I receive the signal notifying me of her death, and I will savour the moment for all eternity... it will be over then, this relentless scheming and plotting. To be sure, I will miss her - she has been a worthy adversary from the moment I began grooming her to be what she became. I will miss her place at my table, her quick-wittedness, her intelligence... but all that can and will be replaced. She may have been my daughter, but that does not mean she was invincible.'

A thin smile played briefly on his lips, before they set themselves back to their cruel motionless line. Any moment now the call he was expecting would come, and he would have to present the false evidence against his daughter to Rane - it would not be enough to simply know that she was dead; she would have to be officially declared traitorous, for her death to be declared a victory of the Empire once again over the forces that opposed it.

'Nothing does she deserve other than that.'

He reached out for the box of thin cigarillos he kept for his own pleasure - the only one he allowed himself. But as his hand was about to open the lid, the comm console pinged three times: one short, two long - his private channel!

'This has to be it!' he thought, a little exited, and thumbed on the comm receiver on his desk.

Static buzzed for several seconds. Then it cleared, and a voice came across - a voice he had hoped never to hear again.

"I trust you are well, father?"

[Darth Malice]

SSD Executor -- Taanab System

Lord Malice stood before the holovid of Emporer Rane's public demonstration on Hoth, his face a mask of unreadable stone. Near the end, Admiral Andron Tarkin looked across the table of the command briefing room expectantly. Malice simply kept staring ahead until the hologram winked out.

"You don't approve," he said at length.

The edges of Tarkin's icy blue eyes tightened just noticeably. "It is not my place to approve or disapprove of our Emporer's actions."

Malice actually smiled at that, a cold, lifeless smirk. "At ease, Admiral. The New Empire has its own way of sending messages. But aren't you the least bit intrigued as to why Emporer Rane has become personally involved at this stage?"

Andron did not offer any suggestions, somehow sensing it was hypothetical. What had caught his attention more than the spectacle itself, though, was the timing of events. According to the timetable he saw, the assault on the Rebels was over almost before it even began. That meant it was either swift and brutal --a distinct possibility while under the command of Smeep King and the scrutiny of the Rane himself-- or there was little to attack.

The Hoth base had been known him for some time. An operation was on the agenda, but this sudden turn of events made all of that moot. Months of planning swept away in one day. If Smeep King's fleet had handled the preparation for the attack sloppily, feeling Rane's pressure ...

Tarkin looked up, feeling Malice's eyes on him. He narrowed his eyes, realizing he had just come to the same conclusion the Sith Lord had probably drawn long ago. His "hypothetical" question led his own reasoning right to it.

Malice drew the admiral's full attention with a shift of his eyes. "Transfer Admiral Lars to the Victorious to assume command of the squadron. Captain Dross hasn't earned his promotion yet, but he can prove himself on the Executor. Once the garrison has secured Taanab's port, set course for the Hoth system."

"Yes m'lord." Tarkin nodded and turned briskly out the door.

[Lt Ysanne Isard]

"Ah...Ysanne, so ... good to hear your voice again..."

Her father's voice sounded hoarse, when he finally replied. Ysanne's mood brightened visibly, as she could hear the discomfort and possibly even shock in her father's voice.

'So I have been correct - he had intended to trap me with this mission. I must have performed better than he expected, to have survived. How unfortunate for him that I am alive...'

The thought made her pulse quicken: if he had really laid a trap for her, and she had successfully evaded it, then there had to be traces of that trap, evidence of it, left to follow-up. She would have to send a team back to bring her that evidence. This time, the invicible tyrant would not get away...

"Yes, I can hear what pleasure my return gives you." She almost purred with a honey-sweet voice that did nothing to hide her satisfaction and triumph. "You can expect my full report on the mission you chose for me soon - for now, though, I have something more important to do."

She hoped her tone of voice carried enough insolence to make his annoyance even greater than it already was.

"I need the personal comm channel of Rane's assistant, Navaria Tarkin. And I need it now."

Her father sounded not just a little puzzled when he finally answered. "Might I inquire what it is that makes you think that I will just hand over such information to you? You know very well that information of this kind is not to be made common knowledge."

That made her angry. "It would be better for your own health if you handed over that information as quick as you can - if you do not wish to cross Rane. I have an important mission from him now, and the petty games you seek to play against me are out of place here and now. Well...?"

She heard him snarl, but he grudingly assented after a short time. Two seconds later, her datapad notified her of the information's retrieval.

She smiled at that. "Well, thank you, father, for your quick response. The Emperor will be most pleased if I report of your willing co-operation in this matter."

She shut down the link before he had time to respond to that.

Then she set the commlink to send out a signal to the channel she had just received, and waited for a response.

EDIT: typo

[Navaria Tarkin]

Navaria walked out of the refresher while still drying her hair with a towel. She felt much better after relaxing in a nice hot shower after the days activities.

She noticed that her computer was holding one message for her and headed over to her desk. She sighed, not wanting to get back to work so soon, but such is the life she leads.

Tightening the belt around her bathrobe, Navaria pressed the key to play the message. Much to her surprise and relief, it was actually her mother. Navaria was pleased that her mother responded so soon to her message and allowed herself to smile.

Navaria. I received your message shortly ago and I'm pleased that your duties found yourself home. Of course I'd love to see you! I never do see you much lately ... Seems that you've come at a good time. Your brother, Marc, is here as well. His duties called him here from Bakura and it will be a pleasure to have both of my children home for a change

"Almost a family reunion ... too bad father couldn't be here or ..." Navaria hissed at herself, letting emotions cloud her mind.

... forward to your next message about when you'll be coming. Take care, Mother.

Navaria tossed the towel on the bed and ran a hand through her hair, lost in her own thoughts ... which was then broken by an incoming signal on her own personal channel.

She hit the key to receive and narrowed her eyes in curiosity that the young Isard had her personal channel.

She chuckled before responding, "So, Lt. Isard. This must be pressing matters if you needed to contact me personally."

"Yes, Lordess Navaria. Important matters that are handed down from the Emperor and need to be discussed face to face M'Lord."

Why didn't Lord Nupraptor notify her himself instead of letting this low ranking woman contact her. She glanced down at the floor and the only thing that she could come up with is that the Emperor had other matters that were important and he gave permission for Isard to contact her.

"Very well. I'm heading down to Imperial Center to visit my family. I shall be waiting for you at the Tarkin Estate at twenty hundred hours. Don't be late."

"I won't M'Lord and I will be looking forward to meeting you. Lt. Isard out."

As quickly as Isard signed off, Navaria put in a call to one of the hangers, "This is Lordess Navaria Tarkin. I'll need a shuttle prepped and ready to go within the hour. I am heading to the planet."

The reply came fast, "Shuttle Lorevan will be ready for you in Hanger 35-D M'Lord."

"Excellent."

She headed to the closet and opened the double doors, picking out the best clothes that she owned for her visitation with her mother and brother.

-TARKIN ESTATE-

"So that's what brings me home, Mother. My new duties as Governor didn't take me away for that long," Marc said with a smile. It was the end of dessert and the Tarkin family was still trying to catch up. "I thought it be at least a year till I saw Imperial Center again."

Lise wiped the corner of her mouth before she spoke, "Well, either way, it's good your here." She turned to look at her daughter. "Isn't it?"

Navaria was sipping her wine when her mother spoke to her. She quickly swallowed and put the glass down, "Of course it is, Mother."

Lise frowned at her daughter's comment. Seemed that Navaria was becoming more and more distant everytime she saw her. She didn't know what to do about it though. As a mother, she loved her daughter so much, but her daughter is also a Sith. Not to mention one of the Emperor's personal aides. The time that grows between them seems to distance them more. She had hoped that seeing her brother might change her disposition a little but apparently she was wrong.

If only Navaria was open like she once was.

"Mother?"

Lise jumped at Navaria calling her and tried to hide her surprise as she looked up. Navaria looked back and said, "Please relax. You don't have anything to worry about."

A smile that was mixed with confusion and fear came across Lise's face. "I'll try.

Marc looked back and forth with as shrug, figuring it for some female thing that went over his head. He was hoping that his sister could leave work out of the home, but it was all wishful thinking. He finished his talorrian cake and clasped his hands together, "How about we all go to the living room and finish our conversation there? I love to hear what has been keeping you busy, Navaria."

"Sure Marc," she answered with a smirk, "but I'm expecting someone very soon. I'll be there shortly then. Alright?"

Marc smiled and stood up. He walked over to where his mother sat and pulled out her chair. Extending his arm, Lise took it and turned to look at Navaria, "Please don't be too long."

"I'll try, Mother."

Lise nodded with a slight smile as Marc led her out of the dining room.

Navaria took her wine glass and headed out of the room down to the foyer where she waited for Isard. She waved a butler away, ordering that no one was to bother her or her guest that will be arriving soon. She took a sip of her wine and out of the corner of her eye, glanced at the clock. Isard had five minutes to get here before she would be late.

[CryptChief Oludh]

He had returned from the small hangar bay on the Palace roof, to his own quarters, safe and secure from the wrath of the Emperor or the Isards. No one, absolutely no one had access to this chamber besides him - it was a secret vault within the secret installation that was the InSec Headquarters. Not even Armand Isard knew the access codes for this one.

So now there he sat, in his special armchair, with the controls to half the galaxy's computer systems within reach. ALl he had to do was flick switches. The walls were covered with monitors from the ground to the ceiling, all displaying a part of the huge galaxy-wide Imperial Database.

This was his home away from home, his treasure, his life. As his fingers flew over the touchpads, flicked on buttons and switches, he felt truly relaxed. Nothing was better that this.

He had to catch up with the messages and flag reports that had accummulated in the queue. He'd sliced in a few watch programs before he left, and they had sent him regular reports about anything unusual.

Opening his private message folder, he scanned through the messages quickly, but it didn't look too exciting at first glance.

As he was about to open the first report, a new message joined the queue.

"The Military router! That much traffic? unusual....I better check on that." he mumbled to himself, then looked around for the monitor in question. Noting the number, he issued a short command and a holographic version of the monitor appeared before him.

His eyes scanned the codes and numbers as they appeared. What he saw made him suspicious. Using the maintenance access codes he'd found a couple of months earlier, he accessed the system and took a closer look. The one possible explanation was, apart from the logical one of someone with legal access using it, that someone was accessing it without clearance. And that would make Jekaan very happy.

Of course it was someone with no clearance - he's never really believed it could be anything else. When he double checked the--

"Well, I'll be kesseled! Look who's come to pay me a visit!"

He very nearly drooled as he copied the information from the database onto his datapad. As he switched on his commlink to contact his partner, he laughed maniacally.

"I've got you now, you little bastard!"

[Darth Turbogeek]

What If 5

Turbogeek found the bed he was given was soft and terrific to sleep in and had indeed slept till well after sunup, even to the point where even the air conditioned room began to warm with the incredible heat of Tattooine’s twin suns. The Jedi had to admit as he threw the covers aside, he felt good. Rested, alert and ready. Confused still. This body he now had was wrong and things just did not seem right, but he could deal with that soon and find some answers. First things first. He dressed in some clothes that he had requested the very polite and helpful innkeeper get him, black pants and a white t-shirt, boots and eye shades. Dressed, Turbogeek had to admit he just looked plain… cool. Wow. First time ever he thought with a wicked smirk.

Next, a drink out of the provided coffee service ad then he sat down to have a look at the news datapad he would use to help find out what had gone on. He must have had an accident or something to have ended up in the desert and also there must have been a time elapse somewhere, enough time for him to build his new physique. Not long obviously, else the Council would have come looking for him. Maybe the heat of the desert had played tricks on his short term memory. Yeah.

He turned the datapad on, then tapped up for the local news. Hmmm. Usual Hutt names. Usual gangsters and a few new names. Fine, so his mission wasn’t finished yet. And some guy called Emperor Rane executing a rebel. Turbogeek passed over that item and went forward some more until his thought processes, idling, finally kicked into gear.

Hang on…. Emperor Rane? Who was that?

He scrolled back and read somewhat more carefully and dismissed it as a slicer joke. Yeah right. Some self styled Emperor obviously, trying to carve a tiny niche out of the outer rim territories. Hah. The Council and the Senate would deal with him soon enough. The Jedi read on, coming to a sporting section listing events and the date. Interesting. A sporting program for twenty years ahead of time. Nice joke….

Quite suddenly Turbogeek froze. Today’s date was listed. He stared.

And scrolled slowly down.

Oh my….. no……

His hand became unsteady as he scrolled back up to the article of Emperor Rane.

Galatic Emperor Rane.

Oh @#%$.

The Jedi sat back, dropping his cup and the datapad to the floor in utter shock. What in the name of the Force was going on? Twenty years? An Emperor? What the burning skys…?

His mind refused to process further. There was something wrong here. Something badly wrong.

[Emperor Rane]

He was dead, and he knew it. One of the twin vornskrs glared at him hungrily, it's tongue briefly darting out between it's lips as if to confirm it's intentions towards him, and he had half a mind to turn and run right at that moment.

"I trust," Emperor Rane started. "That you do not come bearing good news?"

The Communications Officer gingerly lifted one hand to his collar, tugging it lightly. Yep, he was dead.

"Well, it's not particularly bad news, Your Excellency. It's just that… there's been no response from Lordess Tarkin as of yet. She might have run into trouble."

The Emperor seemed to consider his words for a moment, becoming lost in his own thoughts for several moments. The Comm. Officer considered speaking up, but feared a responsive outburst. And so he stayed quiet. Fawn, the vornskrs that seemed the hungriest to him, tugged on it's restraints, apparently cueing Rane to finally respond.

"This is nothing to be concerned with. Nothing could have gone wrong this early that she can't handle. Do not underestimate the prowess of the Emperor's Hand."

The Officer nodded grimly, silently relieved that he lived through this part. He might yet live through this.

"Was there anything else that you thought would warrant my attention?"

The words alone almost seemed a challenge, patronizing the already nervous man. But the Emperors' tone was immaculately calm.

"Actually, sir, there is. Lord Smeep has arrived and requests a hearing with you."

At this, a wicked grin spread across Nupraptor's face, slicing it's way through his features and curling upward like a blade. His eyes rolled back into his head until there was little more than white staring back at the Officer. The man tried his best to keep from physically shivering, and, to his credit, managed it with some success.

"Hearing granted. Send him in immediately."

The Emperor sat back in his plush chair, hands gripped tightly about each arm of the chair. His perfect white teeth were still bared in what, for him, passed as a smile as the Smeep King strode arrogantly into the room. Even when attempting to be humble, that muscled fool radiated overconfidence. However, he found himself stopping in mid-stride as he approached the throne, his self-assurance wavering for a moment. He stood in silence, waiting for the Emperor to address him for several long moments. When finally Rane spoke, his voice came out like a chill wind, impossibly cold and seething with an underlying venom.

"You have failed me," was all he said. The Smeep King did his best to protest.

"With all due respect, sir, it was not my fault at al--"

"Silence. I don't care what you have to say: You will listen to me or die." The words were spoken with an unmatched clarity, perfectly calm. "I will not accept another excuse from you; You have blamed too many other scapegoats for your failures already. Your usefulness... is no more. From this moment forward, you are stripped of all rank. Darth Malice will be taking over your role as the Grand Moff until I can find someone else for the job."

The massive, purple form of the Smeep King was trebling with the effort of containing his fury at this outrage, but he said nothing: He knew better than to attempt to countermand the Emperor.

"Now leave my sight."

His features twisted into a mask of unmistakable anger, the Smeep King turned on his heel and began to storm out of the room. But when he reached the doorway, he halted as the Emperor's voice commanded him to stop.

"There is one more thing, my dear Smeep, that I wish you to do for me before you leave."

With a growl, the purple alien called back across the room. "And what is that, my Lord?", his voice dripping with sarcasm. Rane's grin grew even wider as he let a silence hang in the air dramatically.

"I wish you to Die for me."

Smeep's eyes grew wide as the impact of the words hit him with their full force. But it was much too late for him to do anything about it. In one breath, all of his body burst into flames, swallowing him into a nightmare conflagration. His roars of pain echoed off the chamber walls, and the Royal Guards by the door stood impassive, safely out of range of the searing heat. The Smeep King's screams were cut off violently as his lungs finally gave out, and moments later, his eyes, the size of small fruit each, exploded into a bloody mess. Within just a few moments, nothing more than ash and a tell-tale scorch mark remained.


<img src=http://nupraptor.clanhappy.com/emperorrane.jpg>

[Pierce Tondry]

"A waste, you know."

One of the Royal Guards had spoken out of turn. The individual pulled the helmet off his head, revealing the sharp features and sharper eyes of Pierce Tondry.

"Complete and total waste of talent and ability," he went on, walking quietly over to the scorch mark. His boot heel came to a stop directly over where the twisted head had been.

"He should never have been trained." Pierce stroked his chin, staring down at the blackened floor. "His stupidity has killed more than one million, five hundred thousand, eight hundred twenty of our soldiers."

It was an odd occurrance that Rane should have allowed Pierce to speak. Perhaps the Smeep King's untimely elimination had spent his energy, or pacified his brutal urges. Or perhaps Pierce was simply useful enough that his hidden presence had been tolerated.

Cold eyes lifted up and the man in the Royal Guardsman's armor stared at Rane, an odd glint in his eye. Pierce had known this would happen, and that was how and why he was in Rane's private chambers now. "I have a problem. I sense danger. I've attempted everything I can to bring this into focus, but cannot."

"I request the honor of being in your presence until such time as this danger reveals itself. Though my lack of presence in the Naval lines might cause us to suffer militarily, I promise to make up for it in other ways."

[Darth Turbogeek]

He had found the nearest public data point after he had recovered from the shock of his discovery that he had somehow skipped twenty years into some sort of nightmare. Grabbing a cloak, he had gone there and tapped up as much historty as he could and for nearly two hours had just gone from shocked to horrified. Things were much worse than he would ever of imagined, things just could not be right.... but he knew they were. Oh by the Force, just reading what the public networks had was just too true to be false.

He finally stopped, overwhelmed. He couldn't believe it. The Republic was totally and utterly gone. all he had known and loved, all he had fought for, all he cherished, gone. He had read the account of his friend, the Senator of Malastre, who had tried to fight back. How this Rane had ripped his bowels out with a blunt knife. How The Smeep King ate the children.

What they did to the female was just too awful to think about.

He got up slowly and just placed one foot in front of the other, robotically moving out into the burning heat of the day. He just...w alked. All his friends... dead. The people he had known and fought for.... dead. The jedi.... the jedi....

That was it, the final blow. He just had to sit down on a low wall and quietly, with his face hidden by the cloak, he began to cry. sadness hit him like a out of control speeder, the enormity of the evil done was just not possible to cope with. Sobbing, he buried his face into his hands.

What type of curse delivered him into a time like this? what had he ever done to deserve this utter finality, this hopelessness?

Eventually, he cried himself out and just sat, stunned for hours as the sun went down. Nothing... there was nothing left. Not now and it looked like not ever.

--

Well, at least it was something to do. For the last three days, he had hardly eaten, hardly slept. Somewhat puzzled by this fawning of the hotelliers. But at lasthe had come out of the room, unshaven and eyes red, deciding he was going to at least see if something remained of his life as a Jedi. He didnt think it would be there, but if he never looked, he would never know. Now, if he remembered correctly...

The edge of Mos Eisley was still a shithole, that hadnt changed. Still scum everywhere. That cheered him up a bit. Even if the rest of the galaxy had gone to hell in a handbasket, at least this place hadnt changed. Now where was the place.....?

20 years ago, he had left his most precious posessions in the possession of a anicent rodian, a Republican sympathiser. A highly trustworthy being, a rareity out here. It would nt have done good for the Hutts to know who had been here to end their criminal reign... it used to be the name Turbogeek bought fear to the scum like the name Rane bought fear to the innocent now. He wished....

No use going down that path. The time to be a Jedi was over. There was nothing left to fight for. He went to the door of the place he remembered and knocked.

The door creaked open and to his astoundment and everlasting joy.... it was Traylla. Even more withered and decrepit. Turbogeek could hardly contain his joy at least one person he knew living in this galaxy of hell.

"Traylla.... uxxtrw tthww1 ktbeqq! Issssssto abllltq!"

He spoke the code phrase and and saw the Rodian's reaction. No one else knew that code....

"But... it cannot be! Your dead!"

"So it seems Traylla. Do you still stand where you were...?"

"Master Turbogeek! Of course I do! It is dark time for lovers of freedom, dark times! Come in, come in!" The Jedi entered the cool room, looking with his eyes and the Force at the room. Not much of a place and in 20 years not much had changed. Except Traylla was obviously blind.

"My friend, how are you?" the Jedi asked

"Much better for sensing you. It is dark times, dark times! But come, sit with me Turbogeek, sit with me. How did you live when so many others died?"

"One question first.... how do you I am who I say I am?"

"Ahhh, Turbogeek. Do not insult me. I may not be able to see you, but there are other senses. You smell different, but it is of sand and heat. You sound the same. Your touch is the same. You mannerisms, they are the same too. Plus, the passcode was only known by you and I and I know no one could get that out of you. So tell me my friend, why have you come back now? Have you returned to free the Galaxy?"

A sigh. "Traylla, until three days ago I had no idea what had happened. I had no idea the Republic was dead and so too the Jedi. I have got no idea what to do"

"So.... you come back for what you left here, hoping that may help?"

"A wise rodian you are. Yes"

Traylla pointed. "weal and old I am. No longer can I reach or open the palce we put your belongings. Many times I have been searched, but never found. Now, no one suspects old Traylla could possibly still be up to anything. Please, take what is yours..."

The Jedi nodded, got up. He scanned the wall, thinking. Now.... where...? He pushed a wall unit out of the way, looked at wall. Picked a point and went into the Force. Pulleda hand back and then smashed the wall with a palmheel strike. Rocks crumbled as he drew his arm back and he begun to open the hole bigger with his hands. Soon, the hole was big enough and he reached into the false wall...

... and pulled out the bundle. It was still there, as he had left it......

He placed it with trembling hands on hte table, the old Rodian sightlessly observing. He pulled back the locking and sealing tabs, to expose what was inside.

Armour. His fighting uniform. A backpack. But more imprtant... his trembling hand grasped it. and then then the other hand went in and pulled out the other. His left held his lightsabre, Athona. His right, the anicent Jedi sword, the most defining thing he had ever owned. The Athona, a 4000 thousand year old sabre, a phase shifter, variable length blade. Could only be weilded by a lightsider and impervious to Dark Side attack. It even had spells on it to attack back any Dark Sider trying to use it. The sword, even older. Reforged by Turbogeek when he discovered it, rotting on a forgotten planet. Only one was known to have existed when he was on the Council and it was a prize beyond all reckoning. Sith would kill millions to get a hand on this blade. A Jedi would give up everything. Indestructible, made with and partially WAS the Force. 1.4 meters long. Had all the pwoers ofa sabre and then some. He had learned the two, the sabre and the sword were in fact matched weapons, the Athona built to compliment the sword. Who ever had done it had been mind bogglingly powerful and just realise the matching took years of study. To use the weapons was something else again.

He switched the Athina on.

Shook the sheaf off the sword.

Stared as he crossed the weapons over, felt their powers merge.

The power of Flame.

The power of Ice.

Earth. Fire. Wind. Water. The elemental Force. He was the Master of it. He felt it again, felt it drive through his bones. Made his head spin. The sabre switched off and he reveresed the sword, slammed it through the table, which immediatly began to gather a sheen of frost.

"So, what are you going to ddo Jedi?"

Turbogeek didnt know. "I dont know Traylla. The Force will tell me. For now... for now I will go. Thank you my friend..."

"It.... did me good to know you live Turbogeek. I can die now knowing some hope has returned."

"Thank you my friend. I doubt I can do anything.... but who knows....." He stopped as he saw the Rodian slowly fall sideways, rushed to catch him. Felt his life go.

"Never...... give up Turbogeek....never...." The Rodian died.

That was soooooo melodramtic. Live until the avenging hero came to reclaim his birthright and then die. Like a bad holomovie. He shook his head. No, he was no hero. He was just one man. Heros were dead now. All he could do was to live another day.

He placed the Rodian on it bed, placed the covers over Traylla, said a goodbye. clicked Athona to a belt and put it on. tied the sheaf to his back and placed IceFist in it. Picked up the bag and walked out into the blazing light. Yeah, who knew what he could do. But somehow, he knew now, it was his fate to do it.

For some reason, he wished his old friend and person whom he had trained in the fighting arts, Nupraptor, could see him now.

[Emperor Rane]

Calmly, almost placidly, the Emperor reclined back into his cold throne once more. Faster than most people would consider humanly possible, the rage that had moments before outlined his features evaporated like so much water on a stove.

"I am well aware of how many lives that fool cost the Empire," he whispered. "I allowed him to continue serving me because he instilled fear in those who served under him. But there is only so far that I'm willing to tolerate stupidity. He had reached that limit some time ago. This," he said, motioning to the scorch mark underneath the man's feet. "Was long overdue."

Contemplatively, the Emperor raised one hand to his jaw, rubbing the smooth skin there in an overly dramatic guesture. He wished everything was going exactly as he had planned, or even a close facimile of what he had planned, for that would mean that he'd have run into some form of real resistance by now. Some obstacle preventing him from reaching his goal. But as each day drew on, the opportunities for obstacles to present themselves to him grew fewer and fewer. It was all far too easy for his comfort. Power is never given freely: it must always be wrestled from those who hold it. This he had proven the day he and Malice - then known by his family name of Skywalker - had flung the former Emperor Palpatine to his death. Something about the entire ordeal never felt quite right to him. Palpatine was a conniving man, if nothing else. Rane found it quite hard to believe that he had had no proverbial Ace-in-the-Hole. That was an enigma he'd have to leave for another time. He silently promised himself that he wouldn't wait too much longer to look into it. Thrawn was due back from his supposed exilement soon: Rane was anxious to discuss the matter with him.

He noticed then that the crimson-clad man before him was still standing silent and at attention, waiting for a response to his request. He was a good man - Didn't even show the first sign of impatience while his Emperor's mind wandered. Rane cleared his throat before speaking.

"Seeing as how Navaria will be away for an extended period of time, I find myself without a Hand, Tondry. As such, you may fill that role and stand by my side until she returns to me. I would have you tell me more of this matter which has you troubled."

[Banestone]

*Far, far away from anyplace civilized, on an unnamed planet never yet seen by human eyes...

...A Breaking was about to take place. Such a thing occured often at this planet, but never for such a crime. Never to such an evil being. This being was a native of the planet, as indeed all denizens were. They were a spacefaring people, but they forever stayed close to home, as it were. They went up in their indestructable ovoid ships only long enough to destroy any threat to their own species. One time, many decades ago, one of their race - one of their finest warriors, though not their best... their best, in fact, was the very one about to be Broken - had been sent on a very special mission outside of their star system, outside of anything they had ever known before. But that was very long ago, and naught had been seen of him since.

The High Three spoke, and the enraged mobs - not that these creatures were ever known for their glacial calm, which they did not possess - quieted in bloodthirsty anticipation.*

The people of Triastrien and the High Three find this... thing... to be guilty of witchcraft. Such a thing has never before occured on this planet, and never again shall. The accused must be Broken. The Three decree it.

*In the background, behind the Three yet viewable to every sentient in the area, was a huge monolith of cruel spikes, pounding gavels, and machinery. This was the Breaker. No one ever came out of it alive... or, for that matter, even in a condition that anything other than molecule analyzers could help to identify the body.

In the foreground, held to a slab of a rigid, alien material by force fields and strangely-shaped restraining spikes placed through his body into the slab, lay the accused. A black-skinned, red-eyed monstrousity... though not because of his appearance, they all looked like that. He was monstrous because of his crimes. He wished, and not for the first time, that he had taken the offer of the Excursionary division... the ones who sent the lesser warrior out into the cruel coldness of space. He might have lived longer.

Two three-fingered hands clenched as he tried everything he could to get out. To get away. But not even his feeble handle on the Force - the same ability that set him apart from all his ignorant brothers and that doomed him to die - could help him now. Rage burned within him, which seemed to help enhance whatever this thing was that he was able to do, but it didn't help either.

The mob cheered even as it cursed. Happily angry. The Breaker poured forth red blood. And Banestone died, cursed from his birth by his people's ignorance of the Force. Unique... his people wouldn't have known what they were missing if he had taken the deep space mission. And even though he hadn't, they still did.*