The Hammer at Phindar

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Phindar System - Aboard the ISD Decimator

The CR-90 Corvette appeared small, set against the backdrop of the resplendent tropical world of Phindar. Her eleven engine nacelles appeared as a singular point of light at this distance, and seemed to shrink further as the fast vessel accelerated close to the planet, and away from their pursuer. The Star Destroyer trundled in chase, disgorging a squadron of interceptors in hot pursuit to hopefully harass the speedier Corellian vessel before it could make good on a course correction that would sent it back into hyperspace - and across the border into Alliance territory.

If that happened, their quarry was lost. An unacceptable outcome.

Aboard the Decimator's bridge, a low tension could be felt in the moment and in the low, clipped conversations of Imperial officers attending their duty stations in the pit below. Captain Wygraant stood at the fore, hands clasped behind his back in contemplation as he watched the chase transition into a fight. The first small flashes in the distance signaled the start as TIE fighters picked at the Corvette's shielding and cut across it's escape vector.

A much larger figure than Wygraant's stalked the command deck behind him, drawing stolen glances from junior officers as she passed. Her Majesty's Imperial Knight Matatek Sel Vissica dwarfed the Captain of the Decimator. Her height alone at over seven feet would have drawn attention, but her Selonian features were absolutely alien on a ship nearly entirely populated by humans. Her athletic form rippled beneath a sleek veneer of fur and minimalistic armor drawn over her torso. Strapped across her back, the two foot long greatsaber could be mistaken for no other piece of equipment, it's pommel rising above her right shoulder conspicuously. It was her uniform. Her badge of office. Captain Wygraant may very well command his vessel, but aboard it, everyone knew where the authority lay.

Vissica drew her arms in a high cross over her chest as she stood to the side and behind of Captain Wygraant. Her attention focused not specifically to the ship they were engaging, but rather to within, and her true prize.

[Rolth Wygraant]

"Range?"

"Twenty-seven hundred kilometers."

Captain Wygraant nodded to the response from below.

"We're nearly at bombardment threshold. Standby turbo laser batteries for staggered strike."

Caution was to prevail here. Too aggressive they would possibly destroy the ship. With an Imperial Knight aboard, naked force and destruction were rarely the order of the day. And speaking of the Imperial Knight. She'd announced her presence by the thump-tap of heavy bare feet and claws across the decking. A deep throaty rumble further made herself plain as she watched the fight begin. Wygraant turned, and looked up.

"Knight Vissica, we have begun to engage the suspicious starship. They won't be escaping us."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

A distraction.

Vissica looked down to the Captain and considered his assurances. Her experience among humans left Wygraant's word as something less than it ought to be. The Selonian Knight's thick muscular tail beat a short path back and forth as she slowly uncrossed her arms. A pity that the word of an Imperial Officer weighed less than his blood. She arched a brow at that thought. Perhaps Atrapes would consider equalizing the weight of a man's word and their blood to bolster Imperial honor and integrity.

Vissica gave a soft growl of disapproval.

"Don't make such a statement lightly, Captain. I may yet hold you accountable if you break your word."

[Rolth Wygraant]

Of course.

Captain Wygraant understood the pressures of command in the Empire. And as feared as the Imperial Knights certainly were, they were no Darth Vader. He'd retained his command and prospered on the virtues of his success. Knight Vissica would have no cause to doubt him.

There was nothing further to say to her. A polite nod, and Rolth unconsciously tugged at the collar of his jacket that felt tighter than normal as he returned his attention to the battlespace.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The floor rattled beneath Halajiin Rabeak's boots every time a blast struck the shields of the Corvette. Smoke already began to curl out from behind access panels like footsteps of the grim reaper, while around him, rushed Alliance crew. In the chaos, Hal felt lost, and his heart told him to feel guilty. Had he not blasted an emergency distress, they never would have paused to pick him up, and had he been more successful in his mission, he never would have needed to hotwire an ETA-2 Interceptor and make a break for it. It was his fault that the crew was in the position, he told himself. It was his fault they were likely going to die.

It's not your fault. Stop it. His higher reasoning told him. They were already in Imperial Space, they knew the risk. You didn't cause this.

But what can I do to help? I still feel responsible. His base instinct answered back.

There's nothing we can do. Just pray.

Without warning, the ship shuddered and Hal found himself showered with sparks as a series of power circuits in the wall behind him exploded from a turbolaser blast which had punched through the shields. Frantic paws patted down the smoking bits of buning yellow fur on his neck and tail, and only when they were out did the Nehantite look behind himself to see the body of an Alliance crewman laid out from the blast, clearly dead.

There is something I can do.

No. That's insane. You'll never make it.

I won't, here, either, and neither will they if I don't try.

Boots skittering across trembling deck plates, Hal ran back to the Corvette's docking port. Had his mission been worth this, to the Alliance? Had it been worth the lives of this crew? Had it been worth not knowing if his partner had made it off the planet safe and sound? The mongoose Jedi had no time to worry about such things. Ducking into the cramped quarters he had been given, along the way, he snatched up his rucksack then continued his mad dash.

I'll make sure it's worth it.

"Clear the dock!" Hal shouted, half-snarling as he barreled into the small docking bay. In one movement, he flung open the hatch of his stolen ETA-2 Interceptor and tossed his rucksack inside. Pink eyes darting around, there was no astromech to be had, and Hal grit his teeth, knowing he was going to be stuck going full manual on the controls. With no other choice, he leapt into the craft's single seat, strapped himself in and yanked on the targeting eyepiece.

Please be worth it.

With a push of a button and a rip of the throttle, Hal fired up the craft's ion engines, waiting for the bay's shield to drop. The moment it began to dissipate, he disengaged the craft's brake, and found himself slammed painfully back in his seat as the Interceptor shot out like a rocket, engines screaming, and leaving a scorched wall and floor behind.

"Target lock!" Hal called out, only to snarl when he recalled there was no astromech to assist him. "Okay, we do this old school."

All around him blasts and bolts of red and green lit up the eternal night, and he could see the Corvette's shields flickering like a strobe light under its assault. Fangs bared, Hal wrenched back on his controls, yanking his Interceptor back as a TIE fighter roared overhead. Before his arc was even complete, the Jedi slammed his thumbs down on his triggers, lighting up the TIE's trail with green blasts of his own, until they found their mark, shredding the fighter before Hal's Interceptor burst through its wreckage, protected by its shields. Another yank of the controls and he was after another TIE.

In his training at the Jedi Order of old, Halajiin Rabeak had failed each and every test he was given as a fighter pilot. Not because he was unskilled, but because he reveled in the carnage. "Fallen victim to anger," one report read. "Delighted most disturbingly in the destruction of enemy craft," read another. If only his old instructors could see him now. Pink eyes gone red with righteous rage, Hal snarled and cursed at his opponents as he picked off another, then another, lightening the load on the Corvette and perhaps, just perhaps, giving it enough time to jump to hyperspace.

G-force alarms sang their gutteral song, while laser cannon overheat sirens accompanied warning lights and low shield indicators. The Interceptor was old, and Hal knew it had seen better days even before he stole it, but he was determined to push it to its limits if it would do what he desired. Shots were staggers just enough to keep his laser banks from fully overheating, while one paw continually rotated his shields to give himself optimal coverage as he spun, spiraled, dipped, ducked and dodged through the mess of TIEs intent on claiming him as their prize. One after another, though, he blew them out of the sky. Five down, six, a seventh badly damaged, Hal felt he was making a difference until a good shot rocked his starboard engine.

Immediately he knew the game was up. The engine whined, then growled, then went silent, and at that moment both paws were required back on the controls to even maintain a straight line.

Time to be a hero.

Good luck.

With an engine down, there was no way Hal could cope with the fighters after him. He had no choice but to pull sharply away, driving his remaining engine to its limit as he tried to draw the fighters as far away from his Alliance saviors as possible. Knuckes white under his fur, Hal closed his eyes and prayed for a safe escape, feeling laser cannon blasts rock what remained of his aft shields the entire time. Sustained flight was not an option, he had to go somewhere that the TIEs couldn't.

Garfife preserve us.

On the edge of a deep breath, Hal bucked his controls forward and dove, dove toward the unfamiliar planet below, praying his shields would recover enough to survive punching through the atmosphere.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

This pilot was extraordinary. Vissica withdrew from the fore of the command deck to the executive operations array at the aft of the Decimator's bridge. Here, the battlescape could be observed by the senior staff on a holographic board without having to strain eyes to the periphery where the action lay. The swarm of Imperial interceptors were marked by the IFF system in blue colors. The unidentified corvette and fighter were in enemy red. Immediately, it became clear to the Knight that whoever was running interference for the Corellian ship was a prodigy.

"Cresh Nine has been destroyed." Wing Commander Karnel shook his head in an austere display of frustration as he continued to relay orders to his fighters. Captain Wygraant also joined in the analysis, resting both gloved hands against the broad table as the ships danced around it.

"This is ludicrous. One snub fighter, no matter how well equipped, shouldn't cause us this much trouble. Commander, prepare Besh Squadron to deploy. I want this hotshot removed from play."

The Selonian Knight drew a paw up to scratch lightly at her chin fur. She seemed distant for a moment, the metered sway of her tail diminishing to a lazy turn. The presence she felt was out there, but in the charged emotion of the moment she could not be certain where.

"Commander." returning her attention to the board, Vissica pointed a clawed finger toward the agile red blip. "That fighter. What do we know of it?"

It was a seemingly immaterial question. Karnel was losing good pilots, and the Knight was focused on the technobabble. He brushed her off, focusing on keeping the fight going. "It could be any manner of things, Knight Vissica. These scum always fancy hodgepodge."

The Selonian growled deeply, pulling Karnel aside to access the terminal herself. The fool. A few queries of the transponder and she had it. ETA-2 Starfighter. A vintage design favored during the later years of the Clone Wars. By Jedi Knights.

Matatek Sel Vissica stood to her full height at once, clefted flews drawing back to bare teeth.

"That's it, the Jedi is there."

Commander Karnel immediately returned to his post, shaking his head in frustration.

"Whoever they are - my Knight - they're killing good Imperial men and women. We don't have time for conjecture. We have to destroy them!"

"No!"

Vissica spun Karnel about by the shoulder and hoisted him up to eye level by his throat. Knee boots and jodhpurs flailed as the Wing Commander lifted free from the ground.

"Whether the Jedi lives or dies will be up to me. Now, Commander, you will order your pilots to take that starfighter to ground."

With a growl, the Selonian tossed Karnel to the deck like a freshly-caught fish. The Wing Commander scrabbled to his feet, red-faced as he adjusted his collar. By the time he did, the Knight's back was to him in indifference.

"If not, I will find someone who will."

Vissica's head turned sharply to her right, centering on Captain Wygraant.

"Captain, you have a new objective. Lock this planet down."

[Rolth Wygraant]

Captain Wygraant dared not look at the unsettled state of his wing commander. Instead, he gave the Knight his undivided attention.

"Begging your pardon Knight Vissica, what about the Corellian corvette?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Rolling her flexible spine in a slight stretch, Vissica again crossed her arms as she addressed the Captain with a stony expression.

"It does not concern me, Captain. Scum and criminals are cheap. Jedi are not."

Turning on a heel, the Selonian moved to exit the bridge.

"Carry out my wishes."



* * *


Removed from the command deck, Knight Vissica entered her private office aboard the Decimator. Waiting only for the heavy double blast doors to hiss shut behind her, the Selonian headed immediately for a small black dais set opposite from her desk. Lowering her digitigrade legs carefully in kneeling approximation and splaying a hand across the deck to support her prostrate position, she beamed a message through the ether on the star destroyer's HoloNet transmitter.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The controls in Hal's paws shook and juddered with sharp, violent jerks as his craft struggled to maintain course with only one engine. More TIEs were hot on his tail, chasing him down, and he knew that if he didn't reach the atmosphere soon, they'd surely overwhelm what remained of his shields and make sure he arrived on the planet as a Hal meteorite instead of an intact Jedi love machine.

Really? That's how you think of us? That's what you think we are?

Shut up, it's dramatic and reinforces our poor character decisions!

There was no time to pull any fancy maneuvers, no chance to shake his pursuers. Hal's heart beat wildly in his chest, the events of the last few days running roughshod over his brain as he tried to fathom just how he'd ended up here, and why he didn't have tacos. Moments like that seldom made sense, and the Nehantite couldn't ask them to, as he was far too concerned with the looming planetary surface before him. Memories of aeronautics lessons and atmospheric physics came back to him from his days in junior high, and he thanked his lucky stars that Sheuri Hatmal had been out sick, that day, because he'd actually paid attention instead of staring at her backside where she sat two rows ahead of him. Punching straight in was a recipe for disaster. If he had any hope of survival, Hal knew he had to alter his vector to come in at just the right angle. Every muscle in his forearms stood out like steel cords under his much-abused black shirt, and he growled while wrestling the controls to pull out just enough, then smacked his shields to go full on font.

No sooner had he done so than flames erupted in his vision, forcing him to clamp shut his left eye, and squeeze his right to only a slit as not to get blinded. The engines screamed, the ETA-2's chassis groaned, its panels ticking and popping as they flexed under the heat, despite the shields keeping friction directly off of them. For what seemed like an eternity, Hal plowed on through the upper atmosphere, until at last the flames vanished and he could see earth zooming up at him.

"Got a real bad feeling about this..." he said to himself.

The whine of the engine's temperature sensor overload blared into the cabin, followed by a cascade of other warning lights. This was to be the Interceptor's final voyage, and Hal simply prayed it was one he would survive. Landscape hurtling towards him, he eased on the airbrakes as gently as he could, the roar of air slamming into them nearly deafening as he dropped the shields. Then the engine cut.

Fuck.

Fuck.

What Hal had thought was difficult flying in space became mere child's play as he wrestled the controls, desperation in every adjustment to keep the dying craft on course as the air bakes fully deployed, and only the weak anti-grav lift engine remained functional. Selecting a grove of trees that didn't look absolutely lethal to land in, Hal braced himself for impact, flicking the shields up at the last moment so that he wouldn't be shredded by growth as his ship slammed into the earth. An explosion of dirt and vegetation greeted him to the surface as the Interceptor struck hard, skidding along in a bumpy, spinning touchdown which turned Hal's stomach most severely, until at last he felt himself thud to a stop, rammed up against a particularly sturdy tree.

He had done it. He was alive. Allowing himself a deep breath, he then relaxes and reached out to disable all power.

Immediately the Interceptor's shields cut, and he and it dropped with a crash to where the ground really was, a good eight feet below.

[Rossos Atrapes]

A humming noise filled the room, and a face faded into view, huge and opaque. Lord Atrapes had received Knight Vissica's transmission. His expression was as unreadable as the hologram itself was not, and after a moment to allow the transmission time to strengthen, he spoke.

"Rise, Knight Vissica. Report."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Selonian Knight drew up to her full height at the bidding of her inscrutable overseer. Vissica's array of whiskers stiffened, as if tasting the air for the nearly-electric undercurrents of action now poised to be unleashed. Shoulders drawn back, chest out, black eyes severe and unblinking. She was like a falcon perched on Atrapes' arm, listening intent for the whisper to unleash her into terrible flight.

"Knight General, we have engaged the Corellian ship. A single starfighter launched to defend the vessel, dealing casualties to nearly an entire squadron."

Even recalling the recent event to Atrapes made the connection through the force seem raw and alive. The Selonian's black eyes widened slightly.

"The force is with the pilot. I'm certain of it."

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes's expression visibly sharpened despite the grainy shadows of the hologram.

"Ascertain whether this is a Jedi you have found. If so, capture is paramount. If not, capture if possible, but another dead adept will not hurt our cause."

The Knight-General's expression remained implacable, like a face carved from stone granted animation through some magic.

"I will send Knight Iscandar should you require aid, as doubtful as that may seem. A Jedi is not a foe to be taken lightly, Knight Vissica."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

A Jedi is not a foe to be taken lightly, Knight Vissica.

If that was indeed what awaited her on Phindar, it would be her first encounter. The Selonian's heart raced with anticipation. In some ways, she had trained her entire life for this moment. Raised as a pup to lift a blade in service to Queen, and when new talents presented themselves, raised to do even more. Always a warrior. Queen Matatek's honor was never tarnished. Vissica's blade flew flawlessly over every adversary she was bade to oppose. In one less disciplined, unbroken victory would invite arrogance and hubris, but Vissica lived and would one day die by her promised word.

"Send her if it pleases you, Knight General."

Vissica dipped her head in deference to the decision that was not hers to make.

"By the Queen of my Queen our enemy will know my utmost."

Every Selonian word was a promise. The Knight General's visage evaporated into mist, and Vissica turned to a viewscreen opposite her. Activating it, she held a view of a row of convening Imperial officers. One man, a broad-shouldered human with a thick and precisely-trimmed moustache of salt and pepper hair turned to face her.

"Colonel Stragg."

A consummate army man, Stragg tucked a sharp nod in her direction.

"Orders, Knight Vissica?"

The Selonian's thick tail flicked left and right.

"Prepare your battalions for orbital drop. Lock down every star port on this planet and strangle them into submission."

Vissica punctuated her emphasis with a closing webbed fist. Her whiskers wavered in a pause, wet nose crinkling in contemplation.

"Ready my strike squadron as well. I will deal with the crash site directly."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Ow. Ow. Ow." Hal groaned. He could hear the final whine of the engines fully dying down, and the sparking sputter of electronics that would never fire up again. But beyond that? Birds.

Leaning his head back against the padded rest of his seat, the Nehantite took a few deep breaths, and took stock of his situation.

He was alive, everything else was broken. Not exactly the best situation to be in, all told. A trembling paw located the latch on his belt, pulling it free and then he sat there, eyes closed. His heart still raced in his chest, nervous system on edge as adrenalin coursed though his veins. How he had survived had been partially skill, but he had to admit a great deal of it was pure luck. If the Imperials were to pursue him, he knew he would need to get away from his now-dead craft, but before that... he needed a minute.

There was no time for such a minute, however, and so it was limited to perhaps fifteen seconds of solitude before he tugged on the Interceptor's hatch release, and breathed in a breath of thick, humid air, heavily scented by wild growth and fragrant fauna. Above him towered trees, their canopy nearly turning the sky green, as shafts of light filtered between the skybound foliage. And, before him lay a massive scar of earth torn up as if by some giant plow.

He he, you said plow.

Can you not be silent for one post? Seriously. Behave.

Heaving himself out of the pilot's seat, Hal reached back to take up his rucksack, and strapped it to his back. Where he was, and where he could go, he had no idea, but if someone was after him, getting as far away from the smoking Interceptor was top priority.

And so he ran. Leaping down to the earth, Hal landed on all fours, and took off through the undergrowth. Step after step carried him further away, until he came across a stream. Knowing his tracks could be followed, he turned and began to dash through the water, downstream, as to not even leave a scent trail in the water. Basic wilderness survival had not been his finest course, while training at the Order, but he would have to make due with what he did know, and pray he could stumble across some convenient spaceport, or at least a very good hiding place.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Both hangar bays of Decimator swarmed with activity. The main bay was already staging to deploy the full weight of the Imperial Army's legion contingent aboard the destroyer, as heavy armor was carefully piloted in tight spaces onto the immense yawning bays of ziggurat-like Theta class landing barges. All Terrain Armored Transports were the cornerstone of the Imperial Army's answer to Tarkin Doctrine, and thus were arguably more effective as psychological tools of dominance. This, combined with the time needed to deploy to the battlefield, meant they waited for speedier and more decisive ground forces to deploy ahead of them. Sentinel class landers taxied across the wide bay as medium and light all terrain armor were loaded in turn. Others still received entire platoons of stormtroopers and other specialized equipment.

Vissica passed over the cacophony on a catwalk overlooking the main bay, giving the balance of the legion barely a second thought. Her attention lay to her own strike team awaiting her in the secondary bay further along the fore. Assembled around a Sentinel lander and a pair of smaller Lambda craft, a platoon of stormtroopers and mechanized troops stood poised. Captain Orgern, a chisel-faced blonde-haired human, awaited further orders from his superior before the embarkation order would sound.

The Selonian Knight stalked along the parade line, nose wrinkling slightly as if she was attempting to sniff out weak men to discard. Vissica made her intimidating show brief, coming to a halt beside her subordinate Captain.

"Commscan's latest signal tracked a single ETA-2 starfighter on terminal descent into the jungle here...on the small continent in the southern hemisphere."

Raising a paw, she tapped a wrist-mounted holoprojector that flickered to life, displaying a bird's-eye view of dense and choking jungle. The image remained static but a moment before magnifying until an impact scar and smoke plume were barely visible through the trees.

"The last active scan detected no life forms aboard the craft."

Vissica's expression was inscrutable save for a slow rise and fall of her whiskers.

"Either our prey is dead or they are in flight. Your job is to find them."

Captain Orgern studied the map carefully, a gloved hand rising to rest under his chin.

"My Knight, this is deep jungle. There doesn't appear to be any clearance to put down landers in a way that will expedite the search."

An anticipated objection. Vissica nodded as she switched the map hologram off.

"That is correct, Captain. We improvise."

Tapping another switch on her holo, the form of Wing Commander Karnel manifested as a small figure on the perch of the Selonian's arm.

"Yes, Knight Vissica?"

"Prepare your bombers to deploy at once on our landing coordinates. Burn anything that grows there."

Even in miniscule, the discomfort on Karnel's face could be seen.

"With respect, if we carpet bomb with incendiary weapons we risk killing the person we're after."

Vissica licked her flews in agreement with Harvel's point. It too was one she had considered.

"A Jedi is a hard target to kill, Commander."

"And if we kill them, my Knight?"

The Selonian raised an eyebrow as a low thoughtful growl sounded.

"Then they are no Jedi at all."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

On and on, Hal ran, his boots splashing through the shallow stream, until he slipped on a slick, mossy stone and went tumbling into the water headfirst. The water was cold, colder than he had expected, giving him a chill as he pulled himself up. Clammy, wet clothes clung to his soaked fur, and he snarled, pink eyes going red as he found his footing once more. Despite the hazards, he stuck to the stream. A good tracker could follow footprints, and to travel by Force-assisted means would simply wear himself out faster. Splash, splash, splash, he ran, getting as much distance from his crash site as possible, until he skidded to a halt.

Careful, ginger steps took him to the edge of a waterfall, the stream vanishing down a sudden and rocky incline, then vanished into what must be an underground continuation.

So much for covering our tracks.

Scouting the area, Hal found no further refuge he could take, and with deep regret, he stepped out of the stream, careful to use a broad leaf to cover his first step, then took off down a shallower incline into the valley beyond. Already, he had lost direction, and prayed he was still moving away from his crash site. Momentarily he considered sending out a mayday call, but halted when he realized how apocalyptically foolish that would be with an ISD still floating overhead. For all the panic in his head, however, he could hear nothing but the click of insects, the calls of wild birds, and the slowly-dimming sounds of that waterfall as he drew further from it. When being pursued, silence was generally your friend, and by clearing ground, Hal hoped to have nothing but silence until he reached some form of help.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Beneath Decimator, the invasion had begun in earnest. Flights of TIE Interceptors screamed down the planetary approach, escorting the dread weapons of the Imperial Army all the way to the surface. Midway through the disgorge, the line of traffic broke as a series of double-hulled bombers dropped free from their loading racks. Thrust applied slowly at first, the bombers descended free from the atmospheric shielding before the ion engines fully engaged.

"This is Esk Leader. I am calling the ball."

The lead craft formed the tip of the advance, couched between two TIE Interceptors easily pacing the slower ground pounders above for protection. The lead bombardier Major Pruhl began cycling through his ordnance magazine to prepare for the attack run. Inside his ship's starboard hull, a carousel of heavy payloads began to rotate until the desired free-falling pyrophoric weapon was queued.

Behind the leader, the remaining eleven bombers of Esk Squadron slowly drifted into formation on descent to Phindar.

"Esk Two, vector set."
"Esk Three, aligned on the leader."
"Esk Four, go for approach."
"Esk Five, bombs en route."
"Esk Six, in the pipe, five by five."

Major Pruhl nodded in confirmation that his first wave was in place.

"Second chevron align to this vector. Prepare for fast delivery."

The two waves of bombers began their dread descent, cutting quickly through the upper atmosphere on controlled descent to reduce atmospheric buffering. Once the initial planetary insertion was negotiated, the initial six bombers cruised over heavy cloud cover, banking upwards lazily in unison before they pivoted in the air...

...then fell as one beneath the cloud cover.

The verdant landscape of Phindar began to come into view as the screams of twin ion engines shook the skies like a death knell. Major Pruhl's bomber buffeted with the reverberation of atmospheric turbulance, but his veteran hands kept a steely control of the yoke.

"This is Esk Leader. Bingo in sight. Go ordnance hot and break formation for spread delivery...now."

Fanning apart in the midst of their dives like fingers of a great spreading hand, the TIE bombers screamed in descent as each began dropping free-falling cannisters at regular intervals. At one hundred meters above impact, each cannister burst, a heavy reagent raining thick below as it reacted to atmosphere in a greedy flaming miasma across the jungle floor.

High above the flames, the TIE Bombers bottomed their descent out, making for sky once more. Below them on Phindar, hell boiled over.

"Esk Leader to actual. Target roasted. Returning to roost."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The whining scream of ion engines snapped Hal back to the sheer amount of danger he was in. Though he could not see through the canopy, he could hear multiple engines approaching low and fast. Either they were closing on a ground target to shoot it, or... bombers.

Immediately Hal ensured he was running in the opposite direction, and focused hard. He could feel himself, each bone, each muscle, each heartbeat pumping oxygen through his blood to fire his body. And with it, the Force.

Channel. Release. Channel. Release.

The Nehantite's mind blocked out the sounds of screaming engines, and the whistling of what had to be bombs of some nature, behind him, and instead focused bursts of nearly supernatural energy into each of his strides. With each step, he rocketed himself forward, until balance became an issue on the uneven terrain, and he fell to all fours, running through the wild like his ancestors would have. Then came a terrible roar, followed by blistering heat as he could feel a shockwave wash over him. So intense was the displacement of air by the bursting fire bombs, that Hal was thrown from his stance and rolled across the ground, flattening brush and breaking limbs before he could find his feet again. And still he ran, glancing back to the crimson glow behind him.

Good thing we didn't take that full minute.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

By the time Vissica's strike force was descending through the clouds, it was not a hardship to locate the landing zone. An easily visible column of smoke marked the roughly 250 hectares burned out of the jungle by the bombing run. Though some heartier remnants of trees still remained alight, by now most of the targeted jungle had been consumed by the greedy incendiary gout that had since grown lethargic after consuming the payload of accelerant.

The shuttles made a series of passes as the pilots scouted for the most tenable landing site in the cleared terrain. Their escorting interceptors zipped back and forth in a wide band, on the prowl for anything resembling resistance or enemy movement. After a minute or so of negotiation, the large landing craft descended, their broad wings drawing up to taper alongside each craft's prominent dorsal wing. The landing skids dropped, and each shuttle hit the ashen terrain with a muffled thump. No sooner than the back skids hit the deck, the gangplanks dropped and stormtroopers began to disgorge from the craft, falling into defensive position along the nearest afforded cover. Behind the first wave of troopers, six speeder bikes burst forth in a howling whine of repulsor drives, peeling off to trace the perimeter as four All Terrain Reconnaissance Transports stretched their legs, bounding ahead of the beachhead with an animal's grace. At the head of the charge sat Knight Vissica. The Selonian now wore goggles and a balaclava to protect against the traces of stinging ash and smoke still thinning from the air. As she pressed macrobinoculars close to peer through the far stand of trees, a pair of All Terrain Scout Transports unfolded to their full combat height of over eight meters, dominating the valley recess.

There was no sign of her prey. Some distance away, the burned out husk of the ETA-2 could be seen, flames licking her blackened skeleton. Vissica tapped at her wrist comm, and Captain Orgern appeared - now donned in the composite helmet of a walker driver.

"Captain, prepare your men to comb the jungle. Position your guns for maximum firepower."

"At once, Knight Vissica."

Sitting tall in the saddle of her automated steed, the Selonian closed her eyes for a moment, reaching out with her senses.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal didn't know what had landed, all he knew was that it was big. Had they confused him for someone else? Someone actually... important? Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined that so much energy would be spent on chasing him while he was still wearing pants.

Crashing through the underbrush, he sprinted, assisted by the Force, but he could still hear something gaining on him - and fast.

Think think think think! If this was a cityscape, what would we do?

High ground.

Perfect.

The Force flowed through his body like liquid, sloshing down to his footpaws as he changed tack and began to run directly up the side of a tree. Step after step, his grip remained strong, speed not waning as he altered gravity's effect upon himself, until at last he found himself high in the upper branches, out of sight of those who would be scanning the ground below. And, once there, he heaved for breath, head spinning from the exertion, and the muscles in his legs feeling as if they were on fire. Only through precised and focused meditation, as best as he was capable, did he slowly find himself recovering.

Far below, two shapes hurtled through the forest, coming into Hal's view. Speeder bikes. Behind them, nothing. He wasn't fully recovered, but Hal knew that this was his best shot of getting out of here. Heaving himself up to a squatting stand upon a limb, he waited, timing the approach. The bikes were staggered, helmets containing a visor which kept them from seeing up very far - a true design flaw, if he ever saw one - and that opened his opportunity for attack. The first scarcely reached him as he leapt down, the wind rushing through his fur as he fell nearly eighty feet, aiming for the second bike.

By the time the second bike's rider saw him, it was too late. A wave of the Force slowed Hal's fall enough to break it, while an invisible vise locked upon the rider's head, wrenching it back until it stared over the man's back, killing him instantly. It took but a nudge for Hal to push him off the bike, and settle into the saddle, himself.

You shouldn't have killed that man. That was wrong.

If I didn't he would have raised the alarm.

It's still wrong. I'm gonna binge eat ice cream, after this, and you know it.

And I'll care... why?

Brainfreeze.

You sick bastard.

With one rider dead, Hal knew he had no choice but to take out the other. It was a difficult decision, but Hal knew that if he was to survive, there was no other way. Left paw ripping the throttle, eyes squinted against the wind, the Nehantite reached to the back of his belt for his saber, and rapidly closed the distance on the first rider, who had not yet noticed the fate of his partner. In one blaze of crimson light, both rider and speeder bike crashed to the forest floor, cloven in two. Hal gave it no further thought as he stowed his lightsaber once more and hurtled ever further away.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Eyes suddenly open and intense, Vissica dumped the throttle on her AT-RT, sprinting toward the treeline without delay.

Further back and surveying the battleground from the height vantage of his AT-ST, Captain Orgern frowned at the sudden charge by his superior.

"What is she doing, there's no mov-"

"Captain, TX-5144 isn't answering perimeter check."

Orgern didn't chalk that bit of information to coincidence at all. Knight Vissica's instincts were faster than his lines of communication could ever be.

"All units advance!"

With a sudden jolt in gait, the scout walkers surged ahead in stilted strides as the stormtroopers fanned into an engagement line. Further ahead, the AT-RT's pursued Knight Vissica as she beat a path toward her scented prey. A speeder that had been patrolling the opposing perimeter doubled back in hot pursuit, slowing only when the Selonian made pointed gestures at the bike trooper to do so. Cruising near Vissica's AT-RT, he held a matched speed as the Knight leapt from her slower walker to trade up for the speed advantage. Now riding tandem, Vissica kept a firm grasp around the scout trooper's midsection.

"Drive!"

The speeder bike accelerated with a howl, driving ahead of the oncoming strike team.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Tears streaked back from Hal's narrowed eyes as the wind whipped at his face, while expletives ran through his mind faster than he rocketed over the jungle floor. There he was, flying through a jungle on some planet he didn't even know the name of, being chased by some insane Imperials, and he was going to die and simply vanish from history.

Again.

The sheer thought of it caused his blood to boil, eyes blazing red ans he leaned his head down tighter in an effort to pick up even more speed. Behind him, his tail flagged in the wind, and his rucksack tugged at his shoulders, but he didn't care. He had to get away. He had to escape this madness. He had to live. He had to be remembered.

Weaving between trees, Hal was grateful he'd learned how to ride one of his older brother's swoop bikes as a boy. Despite over a century of time, these speeder bikes weren't much different, and he found the controls remarkably intuitive. Should he make it back to Ossus, he very much wouldn't mind getting one. It'd sure make his trips to the mining camp, and the Gossam settlement much faster, at the very least. And there wouldn't be old logging equipment to dodge.

Logging equipment?

The moment he realized it, Hal saw more, and beyond it, a break in the trees. Ahead there lay a town, or at least a logging outpost, and in it Hal prayed he would find safety - or at least a good hiding spot. Jamming on the brakes, he slowed his speeder bike to a reasonable traffic speed, and after a bit of weaving, he found an open garage to duck into. "Close the door!" he shouted to a very surprised man who stood next to him holding a spanner. When the man did nothing, Hal rolled his eyes, reached out with one arm and the rolling metal garage door slid down into place, seemingly by magic.

Hal dismounted his speeder, looking about for any more openings through which he may be spotted, then back to the surprised man.

"I will give you ten thousand credits if you hide me, and don't say a word."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The treeline broke and beyond that a hardscrabble settlement drew into view. The scout biker reluctantly drew his foot off the accelerator as the bike coasted from forest to dirt road. There were no tells here. No prints. No dust wakes. Just a township and civilians.

Vissica dismounted, tearing the goggles and balaclava off her head as she reached out her senses. The Selonian detected a presence, but had no inkling as to what direction to give chase or even how far away they were. The chances the Jedi went to ground in this settlement could not be ignored, and the Knight growled her frustrations from her bared teeth.

"Search ahead."

A glance back was all it took to punctuate her order into action, and the biker again beat a beeline ahead. Further back, the Musteloid could hear the advance of her mechanized forces. Sizing each nervous-eyed civilian up, the Selonian winded the air for scent as she keyed her commlink.

"Captain Orgern, there is a settlement ahead of you. Advance to me, and secure it."

"As you command, Knight Vissica."

The hologram of her subordinate disappeared, and, Vissica narrowed her eyes at a dirty man in roughspun clothing, trying to cross the street away from her.

"You."

The man paused reluctantly and turned around. He looked left and right in hopes that the alien woman was speaking to someone else. Vissica raised her right hand in a beckoning gesture.

"Come here."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

From his pockets, Hal counted out ten one thousand credit cards, and pressed them into the man's hand. "Now, gotta hide the bike..." Hal muttered. The garage was obviously a workshop, with tools, parts, and scrap littering every surface he could see, until he looked down. There, running the depth of the shop, was an inspection bay covered over by expanded steel plate. It was but the work of a moment, and some mega dope paw gestures to lift the grate, and deposit the bike below, before setting the grate back.

"How you get it back out is your problem, mate," Hal said to the bewildered man. From there, Hal shed his rucksack and black shirt, and snatched up an oil-stained mechanic's shirt from a nearby wrack, pulling it on. Toolbelt around his waist, and rubbing some grease, dirt and oil into his paws and onto his face, and even a bit into his tail, he looked every bit the part of a backwater mechanic. "And, tell you what. I'll even help you rebuild that transmission, there."

Every fiber of his being was poured into the work, and the feeling that he belonged there. Nothing about him should be exceptional, he told himself. He was simply a mechanic in a shitty garage, repairing some massive logging machine's transmission. And, to his thanks, the still-silent man in the shop didn't seem to mind. In short time, they were already removing the bell housing, and ready to pull the beast's massive flywheel.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The dirty-faced human approached Vissica, who clasped her paws behind her back as she looked down to him.

"My name is Matatek Sel Vissica, Knight of the Galactic Empire. You are compelled to answer my questions truthfully. Failure to do so..."

The Selonian's dark eyes narrowed.

"...can be construed as sedition."

A webbed paw reached out to grasp the man's jaw, keeping his head squarely level with her eyes so that he could not avert himself from her. Vissica drew a breath and spoke unnaturally.

"Tell me everything you saw of the speeder that arrived before me."

The human's eyes widened, and his face took on a strange expression, as if seized by a sudden twitch.

"I was splitting wood for kindling when I heard the engine. I looked up to see a man pass by."

Guiding the man along the rails of his own truthful compulsion, Knight Vissica reached her second paw to cradle fingers behind his head and place a thumb at his temple. Again she spoke in a strange sepulchral echo of her normal baritone.

""Describe this man to me."

The human's voice seemed distant and droning.

"Not a man. Not like me. I only saw in passing. Looked like...you. Hair...all over."

The hand at his jawline moved to mirror it's sister, so that each thumb rested against his forehead. Vissica maintained her hold over him, staring deep into his eyes.

"Where did this man go?"

Her words enunciated in full movements of her lips as she leaned in mere inches to his face.

"I...don't know. Past me. He drove past. I didn't give him a second look."

The scout walkers could now be heard chewing up terrain in earnest. They would be upon the town soon enough. Vissica turned her brief look towards the forest back to her forthcoming eyewitness.

"Thank you for your cooperation, citizen."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Halfway into pulling the flywheel, the pounding of a fist hammered at the garage door. Hal looked up to his savior, and with a wave of a greasy paw, he said, "My name is Kyle, I've worked with you for a year. My Basic isn't very good. We've been working all day together."

The mechanic gave him a quizzical look, then blurted, "What? I just met you, pal."

A low grumble rumbled form the Nenahtite's throat. "I'll give you five grand if you pretend all that is true, and let me wave my paw, again."

"You're a strange one, aren't you?" the mechanic replied.

Once more, Hal repeated his list of suggestions, simplifying them further, before the door hammered it's demands once again to be opened. Leaving the Nehantite to his work, the mechanich sighed, wiped his paws on a rag and crossed over to roll up the door.

"The hell do you want? Sign says 'By Appointment Only.' Can't you read?" the mechanic snapped at a stormtrooper on the other side of the door who clearly had not expected such a reaction. "You want to make an appointment, you call that number, right there!" the mechanic pointed at his sign again, then began to wrench the door back down.

The Holowood thunder of the metal door coming back down was halted by a strong set of hands, and from the other side, a pair of Troopers forced it back, up, and then forced entry with blaster rifles drawn.

Hal's heart pounded, and he prayed, prayed that his trick would at least in some way work.

"Have you seen anyone come through here? Any outsiders?" one of the Troopers spoke, his voice muffled by his helmet in such a manner that he seemed almost not human.

The mechanic glanced back at Hal, still struggling with that massive flywheel on his own, then back to the Trooper. "No, Kyle and I have been working in here all morning. Ain't seen shit."

Money or mind trick, Hal really, really didn't care, at that point.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The village of Kanto, as Vissica had now understood it to be called, was effectively under lockdown. By now her strike team had fully arrived and were now covering all vantages, ways in, and ways out. Not a hummingbird would buzz the air without the Selonian's approval.

She stalked ahead, finding the streets curiously absent of faces for it being mid-morning. Following a squad of troopers as they cleared a section of shop fronts, the Knight again plied her aggressive truth-seeking techniques. Invariably, she received the truth from those under her thrall. However, the truth was not particularly fulfilling today. Most denizens of Kanto had fled the streets at the sign of the bombing run some distance away.

Annoyed, the Selonian Knight exited one shop, standing to full height once clear of the low-set door. Captain Orgern had debarked from his scout walker, and hurried to meet her with his helmet tucked under the crook of his arm.

"We have the village locked down as you requested. My men are searching for any signs of suspicious activity. Has your search turned up anything useful, my Knight?"

"No." Vissica gruffed, the whiskers on her face bobbing up and down in thoughtful disappointment. She paused then, looking back to the direction from whence she came.

"Perhaps." she amended. "Our prey is not human."

That narrowed it down somewhat, though Captain Orgern was pragmatic about the news.

"Many denizens of this place aren't, it seems. It's a world inhabited by mongrels."

Vissica turned at the term mongrel, a deepening thrum in her chest as she raised a warning eyebrow.

"I mean no offense, my Knight."

The Selonian's eyes narrowed only momentarily as she snorted an exhaled breath audibly.

"This mongrel takes no offense to your candor, Captain." she assuaged in an icy tone. "Allow me to elaborate. Our prey has a coat of fur."

A vital distinction, Orgern nodded curtly at her clarification.

"I shall alert my men to be vigilant."

"See that you do, Captain. If our prey slips our grasp you shall see how offended I can be."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Kyle? Why did you pick the name Kyle? Do we look like a Kyle, to you?

I was looking at tools, and thought of the biggest tool I could think of.

Ohhhh, okay, gotcha.

While he pretended he was struggling in the transmission, Hal turned his sharp ears toward the Troopers. Something was coming in over the radio, and immediately the three troopers turned their guns on him.

"You! Dog-man, get over here!" one of them shouted.

Hal would have paid them little mind, were it not for their commands coming down the barrels of guns. Setting his pry bar down, the Nehantite reached for a rag to wipe his paws off, and stepped forward slowly, shooting glances of worry to the mechanic.

"Yes? How can help?" Hal spoke in a deep, gutteral voice with a heavy accent. "You have machinery need fix? I fix. But you wait. Many customer in front."

The Troopers did not seem to care for his act, and instead advanced on him. "On your knees, hands behind your head!" one of them shouted.

Hal tilted his head like a curious dog, looking concerned as he looked to the mechanic again. But, he did as he was told, getting down to his knees, then paused, raising his paws. "I do not have hands. Have paws. Paws behind head good?"

"Just keep them where we can see them, and no sudden moves!" the Trooper barked back. Behind him, the second reached up to tap his comm.

"Captain Orgern, we've located a... dog-man. Mechanic's shop on the east side. Orders?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Arrest him immediately, TX-8810."

Orgern spoke into a comm stick as he watched a group of stun-cuffed aliens marched into the town's saw mill under arms. A Bothan, two Wookiees, four Cathar, and one Shistavanen. One of the Wookiees slowed his pace, only to be prodded sharply in the back by the barrel of a Stormtrooper's blaster rifle.

"Move it!"

The procession of prisoners was followed up by another Stormtrooper squad. Knight Vissica stood apart from the procession, standing in the middle of the street.

"You've found another one?"

Orgern tucked his comm stick away and approached his superior. Behind him, a heavy weapons squad also filed into the saw mill, toting a heavy E-11 repeater and a tripod kit.

"Mechanic's shed. Canoid from the look of him. I just gave the order to process him."

Vissica nodded.

"Good work, Captain. Alert your men to double the watch on this building until I deal with each prisoner personally."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The order for arrest coming in over his comm, the Trooper ticked his gun at Hal. "You, on your feet, you're coming with us."

Hal did nothing for a moment, then his ears wilted and brow fell. "You tell to kneel. I kneel. I stand you shoot me. I not get shot. I kneel," he grunted, then stuck his chin out proudly. It was the best imitation of the accent he could manage, recalled from a film he'd seen as a young teenager.

Please buy it. Please buy it...

The Stormtrooper was having none of it, however, and nodded to one of his compatriots to seize the Nehantite. The moment one of them grabbed Hal's wrist, the shop owner stepped forward, shouting.

"Hey! Leave him alone! Kyle's been here all day, I can vouch for him!"

The second Trooper aimed his rifle directly at the human. "Back off, sir, this is an Imperial matter, it does not concern you," came the almost mechanically muffled voice from inside the helmet.

"Like hell it doesn't!" the mechanic spat. "You can't come into my shop and arrest my property! I paid good money for him! I dema-"

His tirade was cut short by a series of rifle blasts directly to his chest, throwing his body back to the floor, smoking. To be sure, the Trooper stepped forward and shot him once more in the head.

"Come on, get the cuffs on that... thing... and we can go. Don't want to piss off Fishbreath," the first of the three Troopers said.

Hal winced, gritting his teeth. The man had stood up for him, whether it was for money or not, and now he was dead. They hadn't even known each other for ten minutes, and the man was already dead, all because of Hal. He could feel the rage building inside himself. He knew that if he wanted to, he could kill these three men before they would have a chance to fire. But what, then? If Imperials were searching for him, how many others would they kill to get to him? Would they destroy an innocent village. A tear running down his cheek, Hal stood, placing his paws behind his back where he felt stuncuffs clamp down tightly. If there was to be a way out of this, he would find it directly. No more innocents would die because of him.

At least not if I can help it.

At the point of a rifle, Hal was marched through the dirt streets to the sawmill, unaware of what fate may lay inside for him.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The interior of the sawmill was cavernous, dominated at it's center by long conveyors with atomizing laser cutters mounted overhead. Giant racks lined the walls where freshly-split timber was processed and cured. The air was thick with the resiny scent of split green wood and the more complex aromas of dried timbers above them. Across the open concrete work floor, the prisoners were lined up in a row. Opposite them, a squad of stormtroopers stood at the ready. A fully-mounted E-11 repeater was poised at the center of the troops, perfectly capable of gunning down any one of the aliens before they'd taken three steps to flee.

Between the prisoners and troopers, Knight Vissica and Captain Orgern paced. The Army officer clasped his gloved hands behind his back, while the Selonian's hands swung open at her sides. The pair paused briefly as Hal was roughly frog-marched into place at the trailing edge of the line. With the last prisoner sorted, the stormtroopers closed the bay door behind them and posted guard to each side.

Vissica squared herself to the prisoners, head turning slowly to look at each one in tun. One of the Cathar began crying as another pleaded for her to be quiet. The Selonian paid them no mind.

"My name is Matatek Sel Vissica. I am a Knight of the Galactic Empire, and I carry the authority of your Empress. If you value your lives you will listen carefully to my words."

Again the Musteloid paced, this time finding herself in front of a Wookiee, one of the few aliens who stood taller than she did. The way she looked at him, however, one would never know he held such an advantage. Her expression retained absolute authority, and the Wookiee's head dipped low as he averted his eyes from her own black orbs. Vissica pressed on, moving down the line towards the sole Nehantite of the group.

"You are my prisoners. The charges against you are sedition against the state and treason against your Empress."

A throaty growl rumbled soft in Vissica's chest as she arched a dispassioned eyebrow at the Nehantite she faced.

"All of you are already presumed guilty. I am giving you a chance to prove you are innocent. The instant you say or act in a matter that confirms my presumption, I will apply justice."

Vissica crossed her arms.

"Attempt to flee, and you will die. Lie to me, and you will die."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

We should have killed those Troopers. We could have killed them, hid the bodies, and no one would have found us.

Then what about these people? Surely they'd be killed because they aren't us. No more death. Not unless it can't be avoided, or unless it's to save innocent lives.

When did you get all righteous?

Since we started acting like an adult. Now, be still, I need to observe this....

Beauty.

While maintaining a nervous disposition on the outside, Hal let his eyes roam up and down the tall, muscular, goddess in fur which stood before him. The fact that she wasn't wearing pants would have caused his own trousers to stir, were he not faced with the possible end of his own life coming very shortly and swiftly.

Summoning up some courage, and that accented voice again, Hal spoke out, "Why we believe you? My boss tell truth, you kill him. We lie, you kill us. We tell truth, you kill us. Either way, we all dead."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica paused as the Nehantite spoke out of turn, arguing her edict as if he had a choice in the matter. A muted look of surprise drew a fleshy eyebrow upwards as her small mouth parted somewhat. The Selonian knew little of these aliens, other than their proclivity at mechanical matters. Stepping close, she sniffed at him, noting the redolence of solvents and mechanical lubricants that seemed to trace his hands and fleck his fur.

"What is your name, Nehantite?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal stood up straight and proud, unwilling to be cowed like the tall Wookiee had been. But this was a different sort of proud than he normally gave. This was pride in his name, in his work and in his role as an excellent mechanic. Sticking out his chin, he answered, "I am Kyle Rayner. I work at transmission shop. Because of you men, my boss now dead. You men murder my boss."

He very nearly spat in her face, so angry was he over the man's needless execution. And, despite his falsehood, Hal believed, in that moment, he was that total, insufferable prick of a Midlothian exchange student from high school, Kyle Rayner, who had no business being anywhere in Hal's life, and always managed to piss people off wherever he went.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Kyle Rayner."

Vissica spoke the alien name. All alien names sounded exotic and strange and she saw in it no real difference from that of Captain Orgern's own surname.

"Kneel."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Don't miiiiind if I do!

Wait, what? She's going to kill us, dude! Why would we want to kneel? We should be... Oh.

Oh yeah. Gonna get the best view in the house, bro.

Well, while you do that, I'm going to get to work on these cuffs.

Still defiant, Hal did not move, at first, until he heard a whimper from down the line. The realization dawned on him that if he didn't play along, someone else might be made to suffer, so at last he nodded, and eased himself down to one knee, then the other.

While waiting for death, Hal decided to do two things: First, he began to reach out with the Force to study the interior of his stuncuffs. Thankfully they were major manufacturer, and were an old design that he had... experience with. From there it was a matter of locating circuit pathways, identifying what could be disabled, and what couldn't, and separating them in an attempt to deactivate the cuffs. Each pop and snap was hidden by a rustle of his tool belt.

And, second, he stared full-on into the glorious, bare, female ottercrotch before him, unable to resist licking his suddenly dried lips just once.

Cuffs are down. I'm going back into Kyle mode. You keep... fantasizing.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Reaching a paw down, The Selonian Knight grasped a handful of Kyle's headfur, pulling at it to direct his attention upwards. It wasn't out of any sense of prudish outrage - she had no such feeling. Instead it afforded her a view into his eyes as she reached down to grasp at his jaw. An exhaled breath snorted from Vissica's nose as her whiskers bobbed. She spoke her next words with careful enunciation and a deep influence of the force.

"Are you a Jedi?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Am I a Jedi? Of course I'm not a Jedi. Kyle Rayner could never be a Jedi, he's too much of an asshole, and way, way too arrogant about it. I bet if he got the chance to be a Jedi, he'd be so bad at it that everyone demand that the whole thing be rebooted and the good Jedi from a few years before brought back, while Kyle was shuffled off to some other duties because everyone hated him. Kyle, a Jedi? I think not. Guy became a transmission specialist out of high school.

Those are the words which ran through Hal's head. Unfortunately, the words that came out were supplied by a different source entirely.

"No. Are you trying to seduce me?"

You... are a colossal tool.

Well, you said we're Kyle. So we're Kyle.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

What was this? The Selonian growled as she felt defiance to her control. Vissica brought both hands to the Nehantite's head, her words bending like oil across the water of sound.

"ARE...YOU...A...JEDI?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

The words reverberated inside his head with an intensity more powerful than even the worst hangover he could ever imagine. It was like nothing he had ever felt, not even in mental training back at the old Order. A snarling cry roared out from his open jaws as he tried to vent the pain, but there was no release, and inside of him a maelstorm of confusion raged.

Are we a Jedi?

Of course we're a Jedi! We went to the Order and got knighted, and shit!

Yeah, but that was a lifetime ago! Are we still a Jedi now?

How could it change? We live at the Jedi complex!

Yes, but are we really a Jedi, anymore? Do we teach? Do we go on missions? Have we truly been a Jedi since we were frozen? Can you call yourself a member of the Order as it stands, today?

The pain was incredible, searing through his brain and cutting off any further thought, or chances of bickering.

And then, from deep inside, came the what his heart believed to be true.

"YES!"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

It took strength to break him, but broken Kyle Rayner certainly was. Vissica rested her taxed faculties a moment, breathing heavily with the Nehantite's head still in her grasp. His willful mind pushed her limits, bolstered now by what she knew was the force, coming to Kyle's aid like an ever-faithful ally.

Kyle Rayner. Jedi. So be it.

Vissica relaxed aching fingers as they fell from the Nehantite's temples. She gave a weary sigh, glancing down the row of prisoners to her left.

"Free them."

The stormtroopers moved on her command, stepping across the divide to turn each prisoner around, and in an economy of movement, to unlock their stun cuffs. The Cathar wept openly in relief, others stood silently in shock.

The Selonian addressed the prisoners who now had their liberty.

"Leave us."

It was a command that needed no repeating. The doors opened, and the aliens rushed out in a near stampede. Once the matter was tended to, Vissica looked down to her prize.

"Rise, Kyle Rayner."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

What have I done?

You saved their lives.

And handed myself to the enemy. I don't know what I was thinking. We never take the fall. That... isn't us.

Maybe it should be.

Head still reeling from the intense, almost crippling interrogation, Hal panted for breath. "Gimmie a moment," he said. "Floor's rather comfy, and damn, whatever the hell that was, it packs a doozy."

Taking a few seconds longer, he let his shoulders rise and fall with each breath, meanwhile he scanned the room for its remaining Stormtroopers, knowing he was far from safe. At last, he grunted, then pulled one leg up under himself, then the other as he awkwardly stood, tail lashing in order to keep balance. "What? Not gonna uncuff me, too?" he asked, then smirked. "Or are you into that kind of thing?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Search him."

Under the guise of a mechanic, Kyle wore a tool belt that could conceal any number of things. Two stormtroopers approached and quickly relieved him of the belt he wore. While the belt seemed clear of contraband, a suspicious leather tube was found on the belt underneath the tool belt. One of the stormtroopers opened the container, passing it off to Captain Orgern, who upon further inspection, delivered the contents of the tube to Vissica's waiting hand.

A Jedi's lightsaber

The Selonian turned her rapt attention to the weapon, turning it over in her hand to feel it's weight and every contour.

"Your lightsaber is well-constructed, Kyle Rayner."

Vissica's broad-knuckled webbed hand curled fingers carefully around it's knurled surfaces. It felt weighty and comfortable to her warrior's sensibilities.

"It is a pity you surrendered so peaceably. I have longed to face a Jedi in battle."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"Still could," Hal shrugged, paws still bound behind his back.

"I mean, unless you're afraid, that is," he then added, craning his neck to look about the sawmill, patently avoiding looking at the six and a half feet of dream-otter before him. "I can see an even playing field is too much for you, though."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Nehantite appealed to her pride. Unfortunately for him, she was a Selonian, and pride always served as a subordinate to her higher allegiances.

Still, Vissica smiled at his baiting. It was a tempting offer.

"A warrior neither expects nor offers a fair fight, Kyle Rainer. War is not fair. The annihilation of your Order on our Great Emperor's Command Sixty-Six was not fair. It was, however, brilliant victory."

A wistful look at Hal's lightsaber, and Vissica let the hand that held it fall casually to her side.

"And unfortunately, I will not be fair to you either. You will be delivered to my Knight General. Your fate rests in his hands."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

"You mean I'm not even going to get a second date?" he asked in a nearly mocking tone. Kicking against the floor, the scuffing of his boot sole against the surface covered a gentle metallic clink from behind his back, and he laughed to cover another.

"Man, you ain't been fair to me all along, Gorgeous. Showing off the goodies, then shutting a fellow down..."

All the while, while he spoke, a faint, scarcely-noticeable breeze wafted through the sawmill.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica blinked in cluelessness as to his insinuations. Date? Gorgeous? Goodies? Shutting down? It smelled like Baastian Cain's flattery, and the Selonian's tail flicked in irritation at needless words.

"Speak sense." she barked irritably, her whiskers springing in disapproval. A shame. There was no fight in this Jedi. Only his useless words. She had no more desire for his company. Turning to Captain Orgern, Vissica spoke as if Hal was no longer in the room.

"Keep him under guard. Even disarmed, a Jedi is dangerous. I must contact the Knight General to prepare to deliver the prisoner."

"At your command, my Knight." Orgern nodded curtly.

With her intentions made plain, Vissica moved to depart the building, pausing only to look back at the Nehantite.

What a pity he didn't fight.

Vissica left at once to find a private venue with which to make contact with Rossos Atrapes. He would be pleased with her results.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Door opened. Door closed. Atmospheric balance in the sawmill was restored. Well, not quite a balance, actually.

Hal hung his head in apparent defeat, but he was anything but defeated. Since his wits had returned, he had been formulating a plan and putting it into motion. Subtle, silent, invisible, his work went completely unnoticed until it was time to strike.

Air. It was the thing everyone counted on, but none could ever see when it was taken away. Slowly, ever so slowly, Hal had been reaching out into the air of the sawmill, manipulating the concentrations of oxygen, nitrogen, hydrogen, carbon dioxide and the other trace gasses, and once Vissica was gone, he made his move. The air around those remaining troopers was quickly flooded with carbon dioxide - not enough to cause them to choke, but enough to deprive their bodies of oxygen fast enough that they ran out of usable air before they could cry out, and in moments all eight dropped to the floor, unconscious. Meanwhile, the air around himself had been flooded with pure oxygen, enriching his blood and allowing him sharper thought and faster reactions. In but moments, his cuffs fell to the floor, picked from the inside, and Hal grinned.

"Suckers," he couldn't help stating, before turning on his heel and sprinting for the sawmill's back door. By the time Miss No-Britches returned, she would find only her unconscious men, and no trace of the yellow-furred Jedi.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Still dwelling in her ambivalence over Kyle Rayner's capture, Vissica headed towards a small hovel that had been taken over by her troops. The family within was expelled, and in their place she had established a temporary command post. Closing the door behind her, Vissica tapped her wrist comm to beam a message directly to Knight General Atrapes. The hologram conjured quickly before her. Atrapes stood in miniature, but with a gravitas that carried much larger than the proportions of his image.

"Knight General." Vissica rumbled, deferentially lowering her Mustaloid head to her superior. "Your suspicions have proven true. Our target is a Jedi. I have apprehended him without incident, and am preparing him for delivery now."

Even as she spoke her words, they seemed to be victory tinged with inner disappointments. She had not yet tested her mettle and resolve against a Jedi Knight. Her warrior's spirit was still hungry.

[Rossos Atrapes]

Atrapes' reply was not congratulations. Instead, he replied with a question:

"Have you left him in a cell?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"The Jedi is disarmed, bound, and under guard."

Vissica's whiskers bobbed up and down in contemplation.

"My troops are preparing to return to my destroyer with the prisoner in tow."

And yet the Selonian could sense something amiss, something incomplete.

[Rossos Atrapes]

"I told you, Knight Vissica, never to take a Jedi lightly."

Atrapes' voice, though tinny and filtered through the small speakers of the communications device the Selonian was using, still carried a sharp note, a tone of warning that reverberated through the Force somehow, despite the distance between them.

"Cast aside preconceptions of ability, demeanour, and presentation, Knight Vissica. Else you will find your time as an Imperial Knight cut short, by the blade of a Jedi just as easily as being cast from the ranks. Go and be sure the Jedi is held securely in a cell with no key and droid guardians. I will be sending Knight Iscandar to join you. Heed me, Knight: an enemy will take any opportunity you give them. Give them none."

With those last words, the hologram of the Knight-General blinked out of existence.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The sense of uneasiness wasn't just a case of her unrequited desire for battle. It was as the Knight General said - a foolish thing to presume her prisoner's fate had yet been sealed. Before the hologram even terminated, the Selonian Knight was on the move. A walk quickened to a trot, then to a full run as she barreled past her own troopers, checking one stormtrooper hard against his shoulder and causing him to spin to the ground. Knight Vissica did not bother with the door controls leading to the saw mill, an impatient hand reached out and the force obeyed, wrenching the cargo door off it's tracks as it screeched up in a howling protest of durasteel.

"Fools!"

The stormtroopers were barely coming to from their asphyxiated stupor, and Captain Orgern was shaking loose the disorientation from his head, with Kyle Rayner nowhere to be seen. How had she been so presumptuous and sloppy? The Selonian drew a bead on Captain Orgern and advanced bullishly. A dazed stormtrooper in her path was removed by a swipe of a clawed hand, the force hurling him across the room where he crashed (http://www.wilhelmscream.net) into a rack of timbers in a sickening crunch.

Before Captain Orgern could report his disgraceful shortcomings to her, Vissica reached a hand out to him, cutting the words off at their source. Captain Orgern gasped, and began to clutch at his throat as Matatek Sel Vissica considered the price of his failure.

"Where is my prisoner, Captain?"

[Reikkel Orgern]

The wrath of Matatek Sel Vissica was terrible indeed. Captain Reikkel Orgern had barely managed to gain his feet when his commanding Knight set upon him like the furies. He'd seen her use of the force second-hand on enemies of the Empire on numerous occasions. Now, he had the singular misfortune of finding himself in her unseen grasp. Unrelenting pressure drew upon his throat like a noose, and desperate hands pawed at the fabric of his jacket's collar that seemed to draw fast against flesh like it was steel. When Reikkel tried to speak, his words came out as an inhuman garble, a wet gagging of air forced gracelessly through his tortured windpipe as Vissica closed to a dangerously close pace around his struggling form.

"P...plgh...gghk...pleas..."

This was not how Captain Orgern ever imagined he would die. Robbed of any agency to fight back, he threw himself upon Vissica's miniscule mercy as she constricted him without ceasing.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Selonian Knight slowly paced Captain Orgern as his face started to change color before her eyes. Curious furless things, humans. She'd always found the color gradient at death's threshold to be interesting. As the bestrangled Captain writhed before her, Vissica reached to his head, adjusting his askew cap so that it sat on his head with regulation symmetry.

"Don't beg for your life, Captain."

Black eyes fixated on him cold and lethal as a deep growl rolled within. Vissica walked another circuit around Orgern's tortured form, clasping her hands behind her back as she did so. Were it not for the fact that the Captain was having the life squeezed out of him, this may very well be just another briefing. Vissica paused as she came back around, close enough for her hot carious breath to sting at his desperate nose.

"I haven't given you permission to die, yet."

Making it clear to Orgern that his mortal coil was her property, the Selonian continued.

"Prepare your men at once to pursue the Jedi, Captain Orgern. There will be no mistakes this time."

Vissica noted the dawning in his bloodshot eyes that comprehended his stay of execution. She smiled a predator's grin.

"Don't fail me again, Captain."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Orgern's hands flailed uselessly as foamy spittle crested the corners of his pale lips. He stared glassy-eyed back at his superior, gasping desperately to respond and to live.

"Y...yy...."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Knight Vissica strolled past her subordinate to leave the sawmill and prepare the oncoming storm of her vengeance to set against Kyle Rayner. As an afterthought, spoke to Captain Orgern.

"Dismissed."

Her hold released on Orgern's throat, the human fell to the ground like a gasping sack of potatoes, the purple receeding from his hue as he coughed deeply and wrenched at his collar.

Vissica's back was turned to her beleaguered subordinate. She smiled in anticipation of the coming battle.

"Perhaps we will fight after all, Kyle Rayner."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

It had been easy enough to escape the sawmill undetected. Running through the lumber yard and out into the forest once more, Hal cursed the loss of his rucksack, as it contained food, drink, and a shirt that didn't smell like transmission fluid. But beggars could not be choosers, and those who ran from the law found themselves even unable to beg. All Hal could do was run.

Only one person had died, Hal told himself. It was one too many, but still it was only one. He had acted for the greater good, and by removing himself from the town, he would not endanger more innocents. If the exhibitionist otter lady wanted him, she would have to hunt him down, likely on foot, or aided by a speeder bike as the Nehantite forged his way deeper into the woods, aiming for close-set trees and thick brush to encumber and frustrate his pursuer. Still, Vissica stuck in his mind. She had used the Force, but in a manner in which he had never seen before, only read about in ancient documents in the old Archives. A deep mind scan, he figured, probing for the answer she sought, Hal guessed, and he had no desire to feel the sensation again.

Wish we still had that speederbike.

Too noisy, and it might have a tracker.

Still, we'd be miles from here, by now, if we had it.

But we don't have it. So quit complaining and keep running, and let me think.

No thoughts came to him, and each step seemed to take him only deeper into the jungle, until he began to lose sense of direction. In the distance, behind him, he began to hear movement.

Turbolift?

Turbolift.

From the ground, Hal located a fallen limb, and snapped off a section of it a bit over a meter long. Grasping it iwith a paw at each end he held it sideways over his head, in line with his shoulders, and concentrated. Wood was difficult. It was porous, non-uniform, structurally unsound, and inconsistently fiberous. It took time to locate where and how he would need to grasp it, but when he did, Hal opened his eyes, looked up, and sent the branch hurtling into the air, with himself along for the ride. Up, up, the limb began to crack, and he grit his teeth. Up, and at last he released it, letting his momentum carry him far enough to reach out and latch onto one of the canopy limbs above, and he scrambled up onto it. From there it was an easy enough climb down to the heart of the lofty treetop, hoping to rest there, out of sight.

[Palara Iscandar]

If Hal looked above, what looked like a shooting star appeared in the sky, only to disappear moments later.

[Reikkel Orgern]

Scarcely a minute after Hal vaulted into the boughs of his arborial sanctuary, a wolfpack of AT-RT walkers prowled past. The scout troopers riding each fast attack vehicle combed a sector of wooded grid, eyes peeled but not mindful enough to look up. Above the lofty treetops, a pair of TIE Interceptors screamed at cruising speed, returning from a wide path patrol back to the locus of the village. In the short time Hal had beat his retreat, the Empire consolidated their stranglehold of the small township. A Theta-class lander touched down at the village outskirts, the mass of the enormous dropship shaking the ground as an AT-AT walker slowly unfolded itself like a titan in the midst of squibs. The sheer bulk of stormtroopers within the vicinity had increased by nearly five hundred. On the other side of the village, the artificial palisades of a prefabricated garrison were starting to rise from the earth.

Captain Orgern stood ready to receive Colonel Stragg's shuttle, which had been dispatched from Phindar's provincial capital to signal the shifting priorities of the Imperial manhunt. He raised a gloved hand to his mouth, hacking a wheezing cough as he gingerly adjusted the collar of his jacket that now chafed against his swollen and bruised neck. The Lambda shuttlecraft's ramp lowered, and Colonel Stragg made a direct line for the Officer of the Watch. The older mustachioed man took one look at Orgern's condition and grimaced.

"Good God man, what the devil happened to you?"

Reikkel Orgern finished his cough with a wheeze, steeling himself as his clenched fist slowly lowered from pallid lips.

"We've had a setback, sir."

The officers headed for the temporary command base, trailed by Colonel Stragg's battalion command contingent and a small host of technicians offloading communications arrays and other military hardpoints.

"It's just one man, Captain. There's no nook or cranny on this parasite-infested backwater big enough to prevent the long arm of the Imperial Army from finding him."

Stragg remained couched in his self-assurance. He'd hunted the Empire's enemies his entire career, and made a name of himself doing so.

"One Jedi, sir." Orgern amended.

"Mm yes. The Knights do seem to have a fixation on their lot. No matter, we'll have our sporting hunt, and a spot of bloodsport no doubt."

Stragg's eyes peered across the ramshackle village, looking for the proverbial bantha in the room.

"Where is she?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The relatively pristine slate tile floor of the hovel's kitchen dripped with red. Flecks at first, then blobs, then streaks. A mangled salmon head fell next, half of the fish's skin torn from it's skull and eye removed.

Matatek Sel Vissica approached the act of eating in the same manner in which she dispensed with conversation and violence. A direct frontal assault without subtle pretense. Gripping the fat, roe-laden fish tightly with both hands, the Selonian ravaged her meal with a series of quick, violent bites punctuated by pulling the fish's carcass apart in a uniform tug from both her arms and muscular neck at once. Bones crunched, and mouthfuls were sheared in open-jawed smacking until flesh was parceled just enough for a horking swallow. Seven pounds of animal packed away in three minutes left a sheen of fish oil, blood and eggs across the Knight's muzzle, neck fur, arms, and armor. Strings of viscera hung between gaps in her needle-sharp teeth as she gorged, knowing full well this was the calm before the storm of her redoubled effort to subjugate Kyle Rayner to her will. It would be a pursuit that would tax her wits, agility, endurance, and strength. And like a true warrior should, Vissica would begin her campaign to crush the Jedi by tackling fundamentals. An army - even an army of one - marched on it's stomach.

[Reikkel Orgern]

Pausing at the periphery of the hovel, Colonel Stragg made for the threshold, pausing at the stolen glance of Knight Vissica through the window. An open look of disgust formed around the man's moustache as he watched the alien feast like a zoo animal. Yet the Colonel did not look away, drawn inexorably to the disgusting spectacle to glimpse a facet of his battlefield commander whom he otherwise fully respected for her stark and terrible efficiency.

Then she began to turn toward him, and the Colonel lost every trace of the disgust in his expression as he stood to attention before the Selonian Knight.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Dropping the shredded carcass to the floor, Vissica squared herself to the felt presence of Colonel Stragg's approach. A shredded tatter of silvery skin fell from one of her lower canine teeth as her tongue casually sopped across and over her bloody, oily flews.

"What is it, Colonel?"

She awaited Stragg's report with tautly-stretched patience, testily drawing out Stragg's rank with a monotone growl.

[Reikkel Orgern]

The Knight retracted her horrors as if they were claws, and Colonel Stragg was likewise all business.

"I've redirected the balance of first battalion as you ordered, complete with heavy mechanized armor. With your command, we are prepared to strike at will. I took the liberty of liasing with Captain Wygraant for additional support. Our probe droids have been launched, and a full commscan sweep is underway."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Standing to her full height, Vissica ran idle fingers along the Jedi's captured weapon that now hung from the lower array of her armor vest.

"Good. Conduct your search and be seen doing so. The more he runs, the more certain it is he will make a mistake that will lead me to him."

The Selonian paused, seemingly looking up at something distant and unseen.

"Has Knight Iscandar landed yet?"

[Reikkel Orgern]

An uncertain look crossed Stragg's features. Another Knight, coming here?

"I was...not aware another Knight was being dispatched, my lady."

The machinations of the Imperial Knights were often obfuscated to those outside their order, and Stragg did not pretend to have privy knowledge of their dealings.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Irritation showed on the Selonian's face by her quivering array of whiskers. Vissica's thick tail thudded the ground.

"Your usefulness has it's limits to me, Colonel."

Turning her back to Stragg, the Selonian Knight crossed her arms high and contemplatively.

"Conduct your search, and be gone from my sight."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

High in his treetop, Hal lay his head back against a thick limb in an attempt to get some rest. There would be no food and no drink for the foreseeable future, so rest was his one remaining luxury, and he chose to take advantage of it. Beneath him, he could hear the stomping of AT-RTs, the buzzing of speeder bikes, and the clank of Trooper armor, while overhead the occasional roar of ion engines passed by. But none could see him where he hid, so tightly tucked into the base of the tree's canopy arms, and there, with no hope of escape, Hal allowed himself to drown out the noise of his surroundings and get some sleep. It was the first he'd had in nearly twenty-four hours.

When next he opened his eyes, the world was dark. How long he had slept, Hal didn't know, and without his pack he had no timepiece to judge by. Grunts and groans of stiff and sore muscles were hushed as he slowly, quietly uncurled himself, stretching his limbs from where they had been trapped in uncomfortable positions. The sounds of Imperial walkers and TIEs had gone, in their place only the chirp and buzz of crickets, beetles and other insects of the night. Easing his head over the edge of the crook in which he had rested, Hal peered down into the darkness below.

Or, at least to most it would be darkness, but not to the Jedi who found himself out of his own time. Carbonite freezing often leaves its victims with temporary vision damage, but for Hal, it seemed to be far from temporary. His right eye had recovered fully, but his left was left with only monochrome vision, receptors and retina damaged to the point where he could see both infrared and ultraviolet light. On a bright day, he often found himself squinting against the intense brilliance of the light, but at night? Hal could see. And see he did. Below him there was no one, no trace of Imperial machinery, men or that great, beastly beauty of an otteress. The coast clear, below, Hal then scampered up to the highest branch he could find, peeking over the canopy to see the glow of the small logging town he'd escaped from full in the sky. But turning, another glow appeared in the distance. It had to be another town, Hal was sure of it.

With a deep breath, Hal ran out along one of he tree's lofty limbs and jumped, feeling the wind rush through his loose, borrowed shirt and his fur before tucking his legs under himself and cushioning his landing with controlled application of the Force. And from there, he was on the run, making a beeline in the dark to the glow which simply had to be another town. It mattered not how far, it only mattered that it wasn't packed with Imperials.

Hopefully.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Lord Atrapes. I 'ave arrived at Phindar. What is ze situation?"

Atrapes' hologram was grainy; he was himself on a ship in the Imperial Outer Rim, hunting down an Admiral that had declared himself a warlord. The signal was weak.

"Knight Vissica has found a Jedi. Be sure that he is captured and held securely."

"As you wish, my Lord. It will be done."


***


"Knight Vissica, zis is Knight Iscandar. Report your position, and ze situation."

[Reikkel Orgern]

"Infrareds on."

Back in his mechanized cavalry composite helmet, Captain Orgern watched the lights in the cockpit of Titan One dim into a faint red hue, affording the driver and crew of his All Terrain Armored Transport better negotiation of their instruments in the deep hours of Phindar's night. The jungle was eerily quiet save for the tromping thunderous din of Imperial war machines on patrol. Reikkel reached to the stowed tactical viewfinder above, gliding the scope down to position as he leaned into the oculars. Below him, the seeming stillness of Phindar's jungle illuminated into a small starfield of yellow and orange dots, as the body heat of the jungle denizens did not go undetected. As Titan One drove on with two AT-ST's in flanked escort, it's massive legs bent small trees outright, and uprooted larger ones in a crashing din that sent animals in screeching flight all around them. In the distance, the dark silhouettes of Titan Two and Titan Three could be seen, similarly negotiating the clogged jungle as they opted for the path of least resistance with which to blaze a trail.

"This overgrowth is making a mess of things. Gunnery, remove those trees."

The AT-AT's lumbering head tilted a few degrees to the right, drawing still as green thunder belched in a gout from heavy Taim & Bak cannons, ripping apart old growth in a fiery maelstrom. Trees that did not splinter outright were set alight, falling against others in flaming collapse. Orgern watched the destructive display without the aid of infrareds, an impatient expression on his face. The advance was grueling here, but Knight Vissica's orders were clear.

Search, and be seen.

She intended to put the might of the Empire into what it did best - instilling fear.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The impediments of the Phindar jungle did not concern Matatek Sel Vissica. Lighting out from Kanto at sunset, the Selonian stalked into the forest as the orange and red of twilight turned violet. No sooner did she clear the beginning stands of trees then Vissica began a four-footed pursuit, dropping her tall frame to the ground as her tail sleeked behind her. Faster on four than on two, the Selonian's lithe form raced over hills and between trees with a predator's assured efficiency of motion. Every few dozen meters, Vissica paused, her thick neck aligning her head up as her wet nose winded the air for Kyle Rayner's now-unmistakeable scent.

He'd been here.

Snorting a puff of expelled air from her nostrils, Vissica swung her head in an arc, feeling the Nehantite's fleeing presence somewhere in the dark. She growled a low rumble, but before she could again accelerate, her wrist communicator pinged. Drawing back to two legs, the Selonian tapped the holo emitter. A familiar Twi'lek face appeared as a blue glow in the night.

"Knight Vissica, zis is Knight Iscandar. Report your position, and ze situation."

Vissica's tongue raked her flews as she looked down on the image of her comrade.

"I have lost the Jedi."

Vissica's voice growled low to avoid creating a din in the jungle where her prey could be near, but she spoke plainly. She neither avoided the unpleasant subject nor attempted to soften it with flowery prose. It was a matter of fact.

"I hunt him even now, Palara. Transmitting my coordinates."

[Palara Iscandar]

"I do not want your coordinates, Knight Vissica," Iscandar replied. "Contact your second in command. I want maps, positions of ze jungle already searched, positions of our soldiers, and zeir 'eadings. I will accomplish nozzing if I go to where you are now. We need a plan, and if zere is not one, I will zink of one."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Of course, comrade."

Vissica rumbled, taking the attitude-laced response from her fellow Knight as constructive criticism. A webbed paw ran over the holocomm, tapping two memory keys to activate a multiple-band communication channel. Standing alongside Palara Iscandar in miniature, Captain Wygraant, Colonel Stragg, and Captain Orgern appeared as a small committee perched on her arm.

"All commands, this is Knight Palara Iscandar. She will be joining our hunt."

Vissica's dark eyes fixed on the Star Destroyer skipper.

"Captain Wygraant, dispatch all ComScan data of the battlefield to Knight Iscandar."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Behind him, a hail of cannon fire thundered in the distance. Stealth be damned, Halajiin Rabeak needed speed. Shutting his right eye, Hal let his night vision guide him fully as he tore across the jungle floor, desperate to reach the next town, and safety. The dry, meaty taste in his throat reminded him he hadn't yet found water, and his stomach grumbled in the dark, but the Jedi paid them no heed. On and on he ran, branches grabbing at his clothes, whipping at his face as he blasted through them, until once again he found himself stumbling across a stream.

Water. Pursued or not, Hal knew he needed it, and immediately fell to all fours, jamming his muzzle into the flowing water and sucking in great, choking mouthfuls until he'd had his fill. His muzzle was wiped dry on the back of a grease-stained arm as he got up to run, again. Ahead, he could see the faintest of glows through the jungle, and knew he could be no more than two miles from the next village.

[Rolth Wygraant]

Aboard Decimator, Captain Wygrant stood in parlay with the two Knights and two Army officers. Beyond their ethereal glow, the surface of Phindar was dim in the depth of it's night cycle.

"I am transmitting now, Lady Vissica. Do you receive, Lady Iscandar?"

Data flashed on an adjacent monitor as it beamed in real time to the Twi'lek Knight. Topography maps superimposed against settlement maps, outlining waypoint markers indicating the position of the downed ETA-2 fighter, the layout of the village of Kanto and it's freshly-minted Imperial garrison, and a nearby settlement some miles beyond through thick jungle. Tokens appeared on the field, indicating transponder signals representing the three AT-AT's blazing trails ahead. Smaller tokens assigned to tactical armor, with AT-ST's and AT-RT's fording paths of least resistance and occupying gaps and flanks. Interspersed between the armor were a dozen or so tokens, each representing a stormtrooper combat element at platoon strength. In sum, the Imperial Army's array looked as a giant hand, moving slowly to grasp the next village like ripe fruit on the vine.

[Reikkel Orgern]

Colonel Stragg stepped away from the command dais on Titan Three, stepping toward the back of the cramped cockpit to address the holoconference.

"My knights."

He addressed the pair of female aliens with a curt military nod.

"Armored advance is underway as planned to the adjacent village of Bindal Hoc. ComScan places the settlement adjacent to an estuary, and I am coordinating our surface attack with air elements to prevent any escape by waterway. If the Jedi is in these woods, I assure you he is trapped between a proverbial rock and a hard place."

Stragg smirked under his moustache, crows feet etching the sides of his eyes as he narrowed them confidently.

"At your command, we stand ready to let the hammer fall."

[Palara Iscandar]

"Zere is no room for baseless confidence, mon Colonel," came Iscandar's quick reply. "We 'ave allowed 'im to escape once, and we may allow 'im to escape again."

Iscandar's figure paced slightly.

"Capitain Wygraant. Your ship will get into position to fire upon ze town of Bindal 'oc. It should take no more zan fifteen minutes to get into position. My ship is on ze far side of ze planet from you. It will join you. Stragg. You cannot manoeuvre in zose be'emoths. Send your light walkers to scan, and scan only, ze flanks of your advance. Speeder bikes should be sent a'ead. Keep in constant communication. Make as wide a net as is possible with no 'oles for 'im to escape through. Knight Vissica. You will sense 'im out, and 'erd 'im to ze town using ze ground forces. Be quick, for 'e must 'ope to reach ze town for as long as possible. If 'e senses ze trap, 'e may not 'ead for it. If ze Jedi is encountered, do not engage. Ze loss of men and machines will grant 'im an opportunity to escape wizzout us able to keep track of 'im."

The plan took no more than two minutes to form and disseminate amongst their parties. Speed was priority here, otherwise the Jedi could disappear into the jungles and then the search would take a prohibitive amount of time.

"Go."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The holograms dissipated from sight, leaving Vissica once more alone in the dark. Whiskers bobbing in thought, the Selonian considered the adjustments Palara had made to the plan at hand. Removing ego from the equation, she found no hardship in agreeing they lent themselves towards a leaner and more deadly trap. Vissica's mouth drew open as her tongue lolled in a deep yawn, and once more, she slinked to four paws.

"Soon, Kyle Rayner. Soon."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

If I were better at hyperdrive maintenance, that Corvette never would have been a target for the Imperials in the first place. Hal told himself.

If we were better at hyperdrive maintenance, we never would have flunked Technical High School and wouldn't have gotten sent to the Order in the first place. I, for one, am proud of how much we suck at hyperdrive maintenance

On and on and on he ran, the lights of the town drawing ever closer. Despite his rep, Hal was tired. Despite his drink, he was dehydrated. Hunger had been ever-present.

Food. Water. Safe bed. Is that too much to ask?

Too much or no, Hal thanked his lucky stars, lucky charms, the lucky number seven, and his left testicle that the streets of the next town were empty as he burst onto them. He'd beaten the Imperials there!

[Rolth Wygraant]

"Helm, adjust vector yaw. Zero eight zero decimal six. Maintain orbital constant."

Captain Wygraant paced the command deck to return to the holographic dais at the aft of the bridge. His XO, Commander Belgen, diverted from the crew pit where he oversaw the results of the latest ComScan sweep, and joined his superior in planning the next move.

"Orders, Captain"

Wygraant's gloved hand traced along the map illuminated against the glowing table. A finger moved through a holographic mountain, settling over the yellow outlines of Bindal Hoc. He tapped twice, as if he were casually selecting an item for purchase at a market.

"Prepare for bombardment. Alert battery control for the word."

[Palara Iscandar]

Around Hal, the town was quiet, despite the lights in most every building being lit. Some doors were even open.

And standing there, in the middle of a large avenue, stood an Imperial Knight, a red hued twi'lek with a blue cloak belted and hanging about her slender frame, but which did not cover her Stormtrooper inspired plastoid armour. Hooked on either side of her hips were two hilts without blades. The lights from buildings around her melded in such a way that though she was shadowed by the dark night, she was still clearly visible.

"Welcome, Jedi," the twilek said. "I am glad you could join us so quickly."

On the rooftops and from the shadows on the edge of the streets, black armoured troopers stepped forward, darker than the darkness around them.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

It's a trap!

Really? Really?!

Hal skidded to a stop, ready to turn the other way, only to find he was completely surrounded. Rage boiling through his veins, the Nehantite glared at the twi'lek before him, then at the blacked out Troopers before balling his fists and stomping one of his booted footpaws.

"Fuck!"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Behind the Nehantite, emerging from carefully negotiated positions beyond the ridgeline abutting Bindal Hoc's outskirts, two platoons of stormtroopers of the 79th Legion emerged from hiding, fanning left and right to deny the Jedi the ability to leave the way he came.

In the center of the swell, troopers parted as Matatek Sel Vissica approached the scrum, passing through their ranks as silent as death.

"A pleasure to make your acquaintance again, Kyle Rayner."

[Palara Iscandar]

"Surrender, Jedi," the twi'lek called out. "And come quietly. Or we will burn zis town to ze ground."

The twilek raised her arm to her mouth, and spoke into her wrist mounted commlink.

"Wygraant. Fire one shot just outside ze town."

[Rolth Wygraant]

With Knight Iscandar's Raider II corvette Fearless closing the orbital distance in his periphery, Captain Wygraant nodded as Iscandar's audio command came through. There was no need for him to speak in reply. His reply was forthcoming.

A gloved hand raised just over Wygraant's right shoulder. He extended two fingers, flicking them forward casually to signal the commence.

A solitary turbolaser bolt screamed from a ventral bow battery of Decimator's hull, lancing toward a precise target just beyond Bindal Hoc's limits. From within the town, the view would be spectacular, and educational. Should the Jedi require more lessons, they could be applied without ceasing.

[Halajiin Rabeak]

From the heavens, the massive bolt of pure, green energy descended like Garfife's judgement. Hal raised his paws to shield his eyes from the intense light, and he could feel the earth beneath his footpaws shudder as the bolt struck home.

"I surrender!" Hal shouted, raising his arms above his head. Slowly he dropped to one knee, then the other, head hanging. "I surrender. Just... don't hurt anyone. Please."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica was unphased by the concussive force delivered by the turbolaser shot, save for slightly widening black eyes which caught the brilliance of the fireball in reflection. Closing the distance to the Nehantite Jedi, a trilling growl settled in the Selonian's throat as she realized he was going belly up without a fight for a second time. What disappointment.

"Flee from my clutches again, Kyle Rayner, and I will bathe you in this village's ashes."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Hal gave no fight, not even a reply. Hanging his head, he merely extended his paws forward, willing to accept his cuffs. There would be no more death that day, because of him. Halajiin Rabeak was defeated.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Bind 'im," the twilek said shortly. Only when the Nehantite was bound and had Vissica still beside him did she turn to the trooper on her left and tell him, "Release the townspeople back into zeir town. Stay 'ere, make sure nozzing 'as been looted or destroyed. If we 'ave destroyed anyzing, we will pay for its restoration. Also let zem know we will pay for ze town improvements we 'ave previously agreed upon."

The black armoured trooper gestured and four other troopers followed him into the dark.

"We will be taking zis Jedi to Lord Atrapes."

[Reikkel Orgern]

As the procession marched down the street, Captain Orgern caught up with the Knights and their prisoner. Helmet removed, his severe blonde hair rode high and tight on his crown. He paused just short of Vissica, who held the Jedi by the arm to pause the advance. The Captain afforded a crisp bow of his head, squaring his shoulders back as his hands drew clasped behind him.

"Lady Vissica, my scouts have advanced to the building you were interested in. They have confirmed the carbon freezing facility is intact and has the capacity to process a humanoid."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica's large paw tightened it's grip around Kyle's upper arm possessively as Orgern returned with satisfactory news. The Selonian's thick tail thumped the dusty street as she nodded to her army subordinate.

"Good work, Captain. Have your men ready the freezing chamber for immediate use."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Carbonite. The word rang in Halajiin's ears like the blaring impact of a thunderous gong. His tail brushed out, pink eyes went wide, then rushed red with blood as his body dumped pure adrenalin into his bloodstream, kicking his heart into high gear.

"No," the word came out hollow at first. "No!" it echoed in a shout. "No! Not carbonite! Not again! No no no!" Hal shouted, tugging against Vissica's grasp, working his whole body in an attempt to wrench free. "Not again!" He lashed out with a kick aimed at her knee, hoping to drop the Selonian as he panicked.

[Palara Iscandar]

"Carbonite?" the twilek asked unhappily. "Do we 'ave time for zis?"

She shook her head, unwilling to fight the other Knight on this point; they had already wasted enough time losing the Jedi once already, and carbonite would be a good way to keep him from being trouble on their journey away from Phindar.

"I will report to Lord Atrapes. Finish with ze prisoner and bring 'im to ze Decimator. We will travel to ze Knight-General when you are ready."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Kyle's kick staggered his Selonian captor briefly, though she recovered with a twist of flexible spine and counter-balancing tail to throw the captive belly-first into the street. Before the Nehantite Jedi could make good on any attempt to flee further, a webbed foot stamped across the small of his back, pinning him in place as the sound of dozens of stormtrooper blaster rifles chamber-charged in unison, drawing into firing position with Kyle dead to rights.

Vissica turned her attention from the Jedi back to her comrade.

"Carbonite?" the twilek asked unhappily. "Do we 'ave time for zis?"

Baring teeth at Palara, the Selonian metered off her growling insistence.

"You set the trap, Iscandar..."

A webbed paw raised up and clenched into a fist for emphasis.

"...leave the rest to me."

Vissica turned her simmering countenance to the desperate foe beneath her heel.

"The Knight General may have his prize after I've turned it into furniture."

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Inside Hal's mind there was no logic, no rational thought, no intelligence whatsoever. Those things had left the building entirely, forced out by an angry mob of pure panic. Breath came in hyperventilating heaves, his tail lashing as he still struggled to get out from under Vissica's hold. Only vaguely did he even notice the dozens of blaster rifles pointed his way, and their danger registered even less.

"No no no no no no no!" the words poured from his mouth. Red eyes were wide with terror, glistening with the pure fear of what lay in store for him. "Not carbonite. Anything but carbonite! I'll be good, I swear!" he begged.

It was no use. No matter how much he begged and pleaded, his cries fell upon deaf ears, and he could feel himself being lifted and dragged bodily toward a dark, looming facility ahead. "Not again..."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The procession lead in somber silence through Bindal Hoc's main thoroughfare. Across the town, a large refinery loomed as the moonlight cast shimmers across the estuary's placid water just beyond. Though the population of the town remained in full, it was quiet as a kingdom of ghosts. The only sound in the still of the night were the rhythmic scuffs of stormtrooper boots against pavement. A dirge procession to send Kyle Rayner into his undying tomb.

At the cusp of her victory, Matatek Sel Vissica still felt unsatisfied. It had been all too easy. Kyle Rayner, Jedi Knight, had surrendered without incident not once, but twice. A better victory could not be asked for, and yet the Selonian wished it to be something else. She walked parallel to the frog-marched Nehantite, paws clasped behind her back as the processing center's main gate was thrown open by her stormtroopers to permit the entry of her entourage.

"I have read many books on Jedi." Vissica broke the silence with rumbled baritone words. "There are things lacking in words."

The processing center's doors yawned open, a synchronized flickering of pallid lighting switching on in unison above illuminated the stark sprawl of machinery within the facility. The plant was a snarl of pipes, vats, conveyors, and storage racks of considerable size. Still dim within, the lights above hummed with electric strain as stormtrooper boots now clacked on sealed duracrete flooring.

"Protectors of the Republic. Arbiters of justice."

Vissica's expression remained fixed forward and inscrutable, but as her eyes turned to the Nehantite, there was a look of introspection.

"Where did it all go wrong?"

[Halajiin Rabeak]

Holy Garfife, creator of all, god of my people, hear me. If you can see fit to grant me a way out of here, I will get rid of all my dirty magazines. I'll limit myself to once a day. Not enough? Once every other day? Just... please, don't let me die. Don't let me be forgotten...

Hal's prayers trailed off, drowned out by the beating of his heart, and his captor's prattling. Closing his eyes, Hal allowed himself to be marched. Perhaps if he did not see the freezing apparatus, it would fail to exist? A quick peek from one eye revealed he was not so fortunate.

"I don't know," he found himself answering. "I wasn't there."

At last he found himself standing before a round pit, a set of durasteel steps leading down into it, spiraled along its edge. Steam rose up from its base, yet Hal knew it was not from heat, but from the moisture in the air becoming supercooled into a vapor. Trembling in his captor's grasp, he found himself pushed toward the edge, then marched down those steps. "Please, don't do this," his voice came out as a whimper, but there was no pity to be found. "Not again. Not again."

Strong paws positoned him in what Hal imagined would be his funerary pose. Legs spread, back straight, his paws were unclasped, and he was ordered to hold them at his sides. The whine of charged blaster rifles seemed enough to keep him still. Eyes closed, Hal could hear Vissica's heavy footsteps climbing out of the pit, and then came the growling hum of a frame being raised around him. Though he had no memory of his first freezing process, Hal could only imagine this is how it felt. Gently, he opened his eyes, looking at the wall before him, smelling the sharp, harsh scents of terrible coolant in the air. The last time he had been frozen, over a century passed, and the galaxy had become a terrible, unfamiliar place. He only hoped that when he woke up, next, all would be right, once more.

With a gentle beep, the carbonite freezing process began, and for a brief moment, the piercing scream of a man in sheer agony ripped through the facility, until it cut short, and all was silent.

All was silent.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The screaming hiss of the carbon freeze did not muffle Kyle Rayner's tortured scream. Though not designed to process the living, a carbon freezing chamber could be carefully calibrated for the task. A deviation in achieving flash frozen state when inundated with molten carbonite could easily turn the encounter into a fatal one. For the seconds that passed, Vissica wondered if the Nehantite's keening was a tortuous wail or a death knell. The gout of chilled vapor that spewed from the recess swallowed the Selonian from sight for a moment, peeling back to reveal her unblinking black eyes as a massive hoist descended into the pit to wrench him free. The claws set, and the peel of carbonite from durasteel crackled in sharp violent release as pneumatics hoisted Kyle Rainer's last moment to full view in a wail of pneumatic mourning.

If he died, it might have been his last act of defiance. Stealing any satisfaction from her dominion over him.

Vissica stepped close as the carbonite slab was carefully lowered to stand precariously upright. The Selonian drank in every frozen feature of the Jedi's masque. His open muzzle with bared teeth locked in the zenith of a scream. Hands up in search for grace denied. The Selonian placed a paw against his ice cold chest, over a heart frozen in limbo or ceased eternally. We are not so different as we may think, Jedi

"Did he survive?"

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Orgern stepped onto the dais, his bootfalls spronging against the porous durasteel walkway as he cleared it. Kneeling to the side of the slab, he examined the biometric scanner affixed to the slab's retaining frame.

"Life signs read trace, and in homeostasis."

The human looked up to Vissica, nodding an affirmative.

"He's alive, my Lady."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica afforded another long look at Kyle's exquisite anguish. Her whiskers bobbed then sank, and she turned to step down from the dais.

"Inform Knight Iscandar of our victory, and bring my shuttle."

[Palara Iscandar]

Aboard the Raider II-class corvette, Fearless

"Knight Iscandar. Knight Vissica reports... victory."

Palara sighed slightly from her position on the bridge of the corvette, the Star Destroyer Decimator sitting just outside (relatively, in astronavigational terms) the viewports. She regarded the captain with a wry look.

"Tell 'er to 'urry. Take ze Jedi to ze Decimator, and we will make all speed for Lord Atrapes' position. Ze coordinates, zey 'ave already been transmitted to zem. Tell 'er zat we will, most likely, be arriving in ze midst of a battle."

Palara strode, with her hands clasped behind her back, to the very edge of the bridge, right next to the viewports.

"Zat, if nozzing else, should motivate 'er."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

From the still of Phindar's night, the Lambda shuttle rose above the jungle, pushing past thinning atmosphere as it left the shadow-shrouded hemisphere behind. It did not delay in it's flight. Beyond, the dread obelisk of Decimator awaited. Beyond still, the Knight General.

The sloped wings of the shuttlecraft drew high as they cleared atmospheric shielding, cruising on repulsors until the skids touched with a low thump. In a hiss of discharging vents, the gangplank sank to the deck. Matatek Sel Vissica, Her Majesty's Imperial Knight, stalked down the ramp to the hangar's deck. She paused at the threshold momentarily to watch her prize debark under the protection of her most elite guards. With neither the time nor interest to dwell further, Vissica took the long walk from the hangar alone.