Showdown at Junction

[Rolth Wygraant]

The Action VI class freighter Lothcat
Thesme Sector - somewhere in deep space


"We're back in realspace, ma'am."

The helmsman of the Lothcat quickly handled the transition from hyperspace, letting the motivators cool down while the navicomputer began it's arduous several million computations to the next jump. The mood on the bridge was quiet tension. They weren't that far from home base, and though this sector of the galaxy was lawless badlands, that didn't mean that the two superpowers weren't watching. Far from it.

"Time to next jump?" Captain Bandar wrung her hands together. The Cathar skipper had a vested interest beyond just her ship and livelihood. The supplies they carried were intended for the resistance - as it was - on Cathar. It was barely a resistance movement at all at this point. More a means of giving a repressed, hand-to-mouth people a pause in their misery. A little breathing room.

"Fifty seconds."

It always felt like fifty minutes. Bandar couldn't still her restless legs, and the felinoid rose from her seat, walking around to prop her hands on the back of it. They were well off the Hydian now, and well past Thesme, nearly at the sector frontier. Imperial space was a stone's throw away, and then the converging snarl of hyperlanes that led to the Dathomir sector and home.

"Forty seconds."

The route they took conformed to no intersector hyperlanes. It was a hodgepodge of wildcat corridors that were often separated by hours of realspace journeys from what would otherwise be two adjacent dots on the map. It was necessary. The Empire made plain their edict that all inbound traffic from the border would approach the final parsec in realspace. If they didn't, the Imperial Navy had enough Immobilizer cruisers to make sure any runners regretted their decision.

"Thirty seconds, ma'am."

Captain Bandar sighed, closing her eyes as her clawed fingers kneaded her headrest. Another eternity passed, and when she didn't hear the countdown checkup, she opened her eyes once again - a part of her fearful to see an Imperial wolfpack suddenly defiling her view of unbroken starfield. She felt silly to feel so relieved at the sight of nothing. She wasn't some wet-behind-the-ears midshipwoman on her first journey. She'd been a merchant marine for years, and even flown for the Rebel Alliance, back when there was such a thing. Now they were the Alliance of Free Planets, a pretty name for a miasma of moral vaguery. She wasn't angry about the treaty. It wasn't that simple. Disillusioned? Disappointed? Maybe.

"Twenty seconds."

Bandar let out a breath she'd been holding, tugging at the hem of her jacket. She tapped at her wrist comm, set to ship-wide intercom.

"All hands prepare for light speed."

Not that anyone needed reminding. Still, navy habits died hard. She rounded back the way she came, preparing to return to her seat when a sight ahead paralyzed her legs and robbed her of breath once again

"No!"

It only took a blink of an eye for space to be violated by several million pounds of durasteel. There was no mistaking the look of an Imperial Star Destroyer.

"GET OUR SHIELDS U--"

The Lothcat thrashed violently in the ether from the impact of turbolaser shots against naked hull. Consoles exploded into electrical fire as the air on the bridge began to fill with a closeness more than simple ozone. The fear of all aboard had been released out of thoughts and made manifest.

The Star Destroyer raked the Action VI as she passed close, precision turbolaser fire boiling away specific sections of hull plating on the aft quarter, virtually guaranteeing a fatal impact to the hyperdrive motivator.

It ended as quickly as it began. Captain Bandar righted herself from where she pitched to the deck, giving a look around. Her engineer had taken nasty burns to his hands and face, which were getting seen to by a medic. It could have been worse.

No.

It was already worse. She just didn't know the extent of it. The Star Destroyer was now just as silent as Lothcat. They both hung in space like mute statues of some ancient civilization. The only sign of motion lay in the plume of shrapnel and venting gas bleeding from the Action VI's aft section.

"Captain, they're hailing us."

Bandar turned to her comm officer, barely able to mask the dread in her expression. Who shoots first and says hello later? The Empire, clearly.

Squaring herself, Bandar gave her comm officer the nod to open the line.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The hologram that materialized before Bandar dwarfed her, forcing her to look up into the dark eyes of her attacker.

"Greetings, Captain Bandar."

Vissica spoke calm as a cup of water, her hands clasped behind her back.

"I want to talk to you. There is a shuttle on it's way to dock with your ship. It would be wise for you to board it."

[Rolth Wygraant]

The Cathar could barely mask her incredulous expression. She'd expected the standard boilerplate of a demand for unconditional surrender. Her ship was unarmed, it couldn't flee, and she was in no position to do anything other than offer such a surrender. But this...Selonian was mocking her, in some form of predatory sadism.

"You've attacked an unarmed and neutral freighter operating legally in free space. What gives you the right? What assurance do I have of my safety if I did something so foolish?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica's hologram began to pace around Captain Bandar, her tail momentarily clipping through the corporeal obstacle of stationary Cathar.

"What assurance?"

Completing the circuit, the Selonian Knight paused, her face whiskers going momentarily taut.

"None, normally. I've won. You've lost. I could kill you and every last member of your crew if I wished it."

Vissica unclasped her hands, letting them fall to her sides.

"You're a Cathar. Your people are honorable."

Knight Vissica considered the word with a bit of gravity, nodding to punctuate it.

"What do you know of my people, Captain?"

[Rolth Wygraant]

Captain Bandar's expression remained grim in reply.

"They say few other races are as honest and truthful. That you'd rather die than tell a lie."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica gave the faintest of nods in confirmation of Captain Bandar's correct observations.

"Then my assurance is this. If you come to my destroyer, we will talk, and you will be returned to your ship unharmed."

The Selonian then stiffened a bit, raising a finger in the air as an unsaid but, as her eyes narrowed.

"Don't delay any longer. If I come to your ship instead, I will be far less magnanimous."

Vissica turned her back on the Cathar, and her hologram dissolved into mist.

[Rolth Wygraant]

It was no choice to make at all. Captain Bandar's already-light complexion grew more pale at the dilemma before her.

"Pelanii, you have command."

She turned to face her human executive officer. They'd spent a number of years in service together, going as far back as the rebellion. He gave a shake of his head.

"Captain, there's nothing to our benefit if you go over there. If you're tortured, you'll give up the base's location."

The Cathar was already on the move, heading toward the docking hatch. It forced Pelanii to play catch-up through the Action VI's tight corridors.

"Then the best I can do is to have a long talk with the Selonian." Bandar bit her lip, looking for her resolve. "Buy you time to repair the hyperdrive. Buy the base time to evacuate."

She paused, just before the airlock, looking back once more at her companion.

"I won't sacrifice you or my crew in some cavalier, futile act of martyrdom."

Bandar paused, allowing a moment of fear to mark her face unguarded. He knew her long enough to not have to pretend.

"Tend to your repairs quickly, Niell."

The airlock thudded, causing both heads to turn back to the hatchway. A few heavy clanks and a hiss of equalizing air in the link signaled the docking had completed. The heavy space door peeled back in a labored whine of motors, revealing a pair of stormtroopers who stood at each flank of the entrace to the shuttle. Captain Bandar gave one last look back to Pelanii before turning to her white-armored escorts. The three disappeared back through the hatch, which promptly sealed, then began the process of decoupling. Niell Pelanii was alone, and now in a command position that left him few options.




* * *



The trip aboard the Star Destroyer Decimator took scarcely a minute from severing dock to landing in the hangar bay. Captain Bandar was escorted by four troopers and an Imperial Army captain through the labyrinthine belly of the destroyer. Their journey took them down the main tramway Bandar knew ran the length of the ship. They paused to change for a lift, one that the Cathar captain suspected would take them up into the conning tower, and likely to the office of her Selonian host. True to her suspicions, the lift opened, and the group turned a few more corners before arriving at a double-edged heavy door, just to the right of the corridor that would lead them to the bridge.

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Orgern gave a glance back to their Cathar guest with a taut-lipped face. He had a fairly good idea of what was in store for her. Turning to the door, he tapped the comm to communicate to the occupant within.

"Lady Vissica, she's here."

A moment passed, and then the door opened with a heavy pneumatic moan. Reikel squared himself alongside their guest, and they entered together.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica watched Captain Orgern escort Captain Bandar into her meditation chamber with an inscrutable expression. Her long figure stood on all fours in the midst of pacing, and then with a single fluid motion, the Selonian bunched up, rolling her spine until she stood on two legs, towering over the human and cathar alike.

"Welcome, Captain Bandar."

Her eyes remained on her guest but for a moment, then turned to Orgern.

"Leave us."

"As you wish, my lady."

Captain Orgern swallowed heavily with a bow, taking two precise steps backwards to clear the threshold as the heavy door glided shut once again. Vissica approached Bandar with a slow and deliberate gait, her bare footpaws thud-clacking with the impact of fleshy pads and claw tips. She placed a paw on Bandar's shoulders. To the Cathar's credit, she didn't shrink from the contact, and accorded herself well.

"Now, Captain Bandar, we will discuss the location of your hidden base."

Vissica observed Bandar's tightening jawline, the fire in her defiant eyes. She was making her stand. The Selonian's chest rumbled in approval. The webbed paw at Bandar's shoulder began to move up towards her neck, then up to her jawline. Now the Cathar attempted to withdraw, only to pull her head towards Vissica's other paw, which cradled the woman's cheek. The Selonian's broad hands easily held Bandar's head like it was an abalone. It was a gentle touch, but Vissica's hold over her was absolute now. The Selonian Knight watched her feeble attempts to pull away ebb once more. Only then did she speak. Careful words spoken low and in an oily, sepulchral, unnatural voice.

"Where are your friends hiding?"

Bandar's face immediately seized in the throes of anguished resistance as she redoubled her attempts to pull free from Vissica's grasp. Wide eyes welled with tears as her expression contorted into a grimace. The Selonian's paws traversed to the Cathar's temples, spreading her coercive grasp fully over her skull as Bandar quaked under her power.

"Tell me."

A tear fell down Bandar's cheek as she lost control over her truth. Before it spilled from her lips, the meditation chamber filled with a single agonized wail.

[Reikkel Orgern]

She'd been undone so quickly. The truth pulled out of her in mere moments. Vissica's grip over her released, and she fell to her knees in despair. Bandar hadn't counted on resisting forever. She knew the Empire would eventually find out. She'd only hoped that she would be able to hold out. A hope that was crushed before her eyes.

"What happens now?" she spoke in a low, hoarse voice, unable to look back into those terrible eyes.

The doors behind peeled open once more, and Bandar didn't turn to see. She only heard the clack of knee boots against the deck.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica turned her back to the Cathar, clasping her paws behind her back as Captain Orgern returned to collect her guest.

"Return Captain Bandar safely to her ship."

Orgern muttered an affirmative, and moved to collect the Cathar woman from the deck. Before they cleared the threshold, Vissica gave a quarter turn, now catching Bandar in her sight once more.

"Thank you for your cooperation, Captain."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Bandar was barely aware of being led away from the Selonian Knight. Barely aware of being escorted back the way she came. Captain Orgern pointedly avoided eye contact the whole way, and at any moment, the Cathar fully expected to hear the priming of a blaster behind her back.

But it never happened. A blink later, she was on the shuttle once more. Less than a minute later, the airlocks began to sync. Heavy doors once more hissed open, and Niell was there once more. Prodded through the threshold, she fell into his embrace, tears rolling down her face. She didn't have to tell him the bad news. The Empire knew everything.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Now standing on the command deck of the destroyer Decimator, Lady Vissica watched as the Sentinel shuttle pulled free from the crippled Action VI freighter.

"Captain Wygraant."

[Rolth Wygraant]

Following in the Knight's shadow, the Captain of the Decimator stepped to the Selonian's side.

"Orders, my Lady?

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

A soft growl rose in Vissica's throat, her expression unreadable.

"Instruct your gunners to target the freighter."

Her musteloid head only now turned to acknowledge Wygraant's presence.

"Wipe it from existence."

[Rolth Wygraant]

An entirely prudent suggestion, to be sure. Nevertheless, Wygrant shifted on his feet uneasily.

"Begging your pardon my lady, but didn't you guarantee the Captain's safety?"

Deception was certainly a prudent tool to be used, but his Selonian overlady made it a point to hamstring herself to her honesty. This was merely a curiosity to him. Was she intending to violate her word?

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Squaring herself to her Captain and his impudent questioning, Vissica let out a huffed breath of annoyance, then raked her tongue over her muzzle.

"I gave my word that Captain Bandar would be unharmed in my company and safely returned to her ship."

The Selonian crossed her arms high over her chest, giving Wygraant a moment to understand that her promises ended after that deed was done.

"My promise to her has been fulfilled. Now, Captain."

Her patience with the questioning charade now exhausted, Vissica leveled a pointed finger at Wygraant.

"Don't question my orders again."

[Rolth Wygraant]

Wygraant stiffened his stance a bit in the presence of her foreboding digit, imagining the neckline of his jacket tightening as he swallowed. He'd spent enough years within Death Squadron to know when curiosity could kill.

"Gunnery..."

Eyes not leaving his Lady, Wygraant gave the order.

"Target the freighter, maximum broadside bombardment."

The heavy banks of quad turbolaser batteries on Decimator's port side all began to traverse in unison, aligning on the Lothcat. Without any further warning, they fired as one, followed in turn by every other turbolaser hardpoint on that side of the Destroyer. Now targeting the whole of the Action VI freighter, entire sections of hull ripped apart in the fusilade, ending the lives of every hand on deck in a conflagration of explosion and punctuated terror. The dark of deep space lit up as the reactor took a direct hit, releasing it's energy in a critical gout to finish the short work of Lothcat's death.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Lady Vissica watched the Lothcat surrender herself to fire, her dark eyes taking in the brilliance of the explosion from the observation deck. She could feel the fifty souls aboard succumb to their sudden violent demise at once. It had been a brief sentence carried out. A final one. Enemies of the Empress had one destiny, to die.

As the blossoming fire exhausted itself into a swarm of embers, surrendering to the darkness of deep space again, Vissica turned her back, walking along the command deck to exit the bridge, but not before giving one further order.

"Captain, set your course for Feriae Junction."

[Abarai Loki]

“Thirty.”

An absurd proposition. That was how it always began. Loki braced himself as the weariness set in, heavier than the afternoon heat upon his back. High overhead, the sun loomed large, eating up the sky, scorching it white. On Junction, visitors learned to keep their heads down. Presently, it was not the glare of the sun Loki was avoiding, but the light of amusement in Chango’s eyes. To think, he actually enjoyed this sort of thing.

“One hundred,” said Loki, joining the dance.

“You mistake me for charity, my friend. Forty.”

By Twi’leki standards, Chango was a big man. Almost as wide as he was tall, he rose out of his silken trousers like a mountain - a mountain the colour of pea soup that had been left in the pan too long. Around his neck, lekku the size of Endorian swamp snakes threatened to strangle the life out of him, and, because Chango the Cheerful was not a subtle man, they were decorated with leather wraps and silvery coins that tinkled when he laughed.

“Unbelieveable,” Loki scoffed, he would have silence from those damn coins today, “Ninety!”

“Forty-five.” Chango’s hands were on his hips, as if he meant business, parting the paltry waistcoat on a belly that was truly no moon. Loki was having none of it.

“Eighty-nine,” he said, an eyebrow leaping into the heavens.

Chango’s frown dug trenches into his face, “What you are offering, it is faulty. Fifty.”

“It’s pristine!” Loki was incensed, incredulous, “Seventy.”

And then:

“Sixty,” they said in unison, but Abarai Loki, purveyor of pristine parts, was not yet done, “...five.”

Unspoken lectures took flight, born on the wings of Chango’s shock, they filled the expanse between them, and reeked of something like Rule 42 of the Merchant’s Code of Galactic Etiquette: ‘A fair tradesman must always be forthcoming in negotiating the terms of purchase.’ A line had been crossed, he knew, but it was worth it if only to vanquish the pervasive smugness from the Twi’lek’s face. Too bad his victory was short-lived.

“That was a trick unworthy of a noble merchant, my friend. But you have yourself a deal.” Chango was chuckling, and his coins were in full song. He handed over the credits and took the astromech motivator. His hands worked at it like an attentive lover.

“I am not a noble merchant, Chango. I’m just late for my ride.”

Six days late, to be exact. Six days since he’d been abandoned on a world of tight-fisted traders and sticky-fingered thieves. Half a day, he was given, to take in the sights and absorb the culture of Junction City while Captain Kolonium unloaded his cargo. The plan was to return, once the freighter was restocked, and resume the journey to Cathar. After an hour, however, Loki had absorbed all the culture he could stomach.

It happened not far from the Grand Terminal, where the flow of tourists was thickest: a couple of Duros accosted him with handfuls of wet scented tissues, eager to remove, from his shoulder, the shameful blemish of a condor dropping. Of course, there had been no dropping, but Loki was too flustered and flummoxed by the pantomime to notice his pockets had just been emptied. Luckily, the bulk of his credits were secured in a locker inside the spaceport - he had not trusted the the captain to safeguard his belongings in his absence - but the thieves absconded with something far more valuable than credits: his boarding pass.

In the Grand Terminal, there was an unfortunate and age-old tradition that prevented anyone without a boarding pass from ascending the Great Stair. Loki had no idea how long Captain Kolonium had waited, but he was certain there was no danger of finding him still standing outside his freighter, staring at his chrono - whether he had been eager to visit Cathar or just anxious to leave Junction, there had been an unmistakable sense of urgency about him.

Similarly, Loki found himself in a rush, to be on his way to wherever the solar winds took him next. Over the last six days, he cultivated an unlikely business relationship with Chango the Cheerful, who was preceded by his reputation, even amongst tourists. Chango’s Salvage Yard, formerly Skinker’s, had become an unofficial attraction for anyone with an interest in the strange and wonderful detritus of the galaxy. There were few things Chango wouldn’t buy, provided it was for a price he deemed within the bounds of fairness - fairness to himself, of course. Which was why he managed to buy a pristine astromech motivator for only 65 credits; all Loki had to do was repair the shorted circuitry, and he could’ve earned himself three times as much. Unfortunately, his tool box was safe with his credits inside the spaceport, too. In all, his time on Junction had been a vicious cycle of misfortune he was glad to put far behind him.

“This is it then, my friend?” Chango’s great shoulders slumped. “You have your credits?”

“I have enough to get me to Cathar. Thank you, Chango, for the work, and for the roof over my head.”

“You are the most resourceful scavenger I have ever met. It was… good for business.”

This time, Loki did not allow the smile to go unreturned, “Farewell, Chango.”

“Goodbye, Abarai Loki.”

With their business done, they shook hands.

[Ben Merasska]

"You're late."

Daz Mira frowned, but then smiled as he looked over the weapons and most importantly ammunition and explosives that comprised the major portion of the cargo.

"Not by that long, my friend. Besides, Imperials —

"Imperials threaten to board me too," the stern faced smuggler said, stepping closer. "Didn't stop me. Doesn't seem fair is all. I got blasters in my face and rude men touching me all over my bashful bashful body and I was the one on time."

Daz stepped back. "I don't have any extra money, Captain. Everything I have I've given to the war effort."

"The war is over," Captain Merasska said, keeping his eyes on Daz. "You lost."

Daz's frown erupted on his face once more, turning into a full blown snarl, and he stepped forward, but the sound of a blaster priming to the side prompted him to look and see his comrades with their hands in the air, and a small Togruta female with an E-11 in her hands and her finger on the trigger.

"Wouldn't do that if I were you," she said, keeping her eyes on the others.

"What do you want?" the insurgent asked.

"Names."

Daz's brows rose. "Listen. I don't know much, okay? When you come to drop off the goods at the base later today, I'll get you to talk to the commander. He's the one who talks to our backers and suppliers off planet and all that. If anyone has an answer to those sorts of questions, he will."

Ben sighed, and nodded, which seemed to be the cue the Togruta was waiting for; she lowered her rifle and stepped back. Daz and his men disappeared in the mass of humanity and Ben stood still, watching the crowds for a moment before collapsing onto a crate with a sudden rush of breath.

Junction City's Grand Terminal was something of a tourist trap; but this was exactly why Ben had landed there. Thieves didn't really mess with Spacers unless they looked like easy marks, and the bustle and hustle and constant trade and coming and going would hide their arrival and departure easily. Well, that, and it would have been difficult to land anywhere else; the planet's skies were heavily regulated in terms of space traffic. That didn't mean Grand Terminal didn't have an 'economical fares' section, a row of ships sitting side by side with barely a wall to grant some privacy between them.

"Oh it wasn't that bad," Shuvin said.

"I was so scared," Ben gasped. "You know I'm not good at these confrontation things, right?"

"But it got you what you wanted," Shuvin shot back.

"No, it got that guy to say that he would get me in to talk to someone else. He's just as likely to ignore it as follow through."

Shuvin pouted. "You really know how to burst a girl's bubble, Ben."

Ben rested a hand on the teen's shoulder. "I appreciate it, Shuvin. But I don't need to go makin' more enemies when I have too many already. Now come on. These crates ain't gonna load themselves!"

Shuvin groaned and got to work.

[Abarai Loki]

On his way back to the heart of Junction City, Loki was joined by Feelip and Andria, the sandy-haired twins from Torque. When he'd been stranded without a credit to his name, they had been the ones to show him the cheapest and most convenient way to travel around the city. Side-by-side, they sat on the back of a taxi chariot, with their feet dangling inches from the dusty road. The chariots were pulled by twin engines, like podracers, but slow, and piloted by droids that were all torso and no manners. But, as long as the droids didn't find out, one could consider taxi-butting the unofficial public transport of Junction City.

"Our auntie calls them fruitlets," said Feelip, holding out a paper bag. Loki plucked out a rainbow-coloured boiled candy and, after a moment of consideration, put it in his mouth. Auntie Meryble had a mixed record when it came to her confectionery concoctions, but, in her bright sweet fruitlets, she had achieved success. When Loki got to the soft gooey centre, he nodded his approval.

"She's working us overtime," Andria confessed, regarding a fruitlet with disdain, "To produce enough batches for the festival."

The Festival of the Traveller was a celebration of the fictional stranger who visited Junction many years ago, and brought with him, or her, great wealth and prosperity, turning Junction Town into Junction City. It was nonsense, of course, designed to attract magpie-minded tourists to the city and part them from their money. And because it worked, there was a festival for every month of the year. For these sequel events, the locals became less creative in naming their scams: there was the dull and innocuous Festival of the Visitor, the glaringly obvious Festival of the Generous Stranger, and the outright lazy Festival of Festivals. Feelip and Andria lived with their aunt, who sold pastries, candies, and local treats from their market stall outside the Grand Terminal. The festivals were the lifeblood of the family business, and it was with those earnings they were sheltered, clothed, and fed. So it was not all bad, Loki conceded in private.

"You will come visit?" Feelip asked, before they parted ways. They knew how much Loki hated the pandemonium of the market, and had no illusions about convincing him to take the scenic route to the spaceport.

"I will try." If Loki felt awkward avoiding promises he couldn't keep, then he felt positively dumbstruck in trying to make conversation once Andria had planted a kiss on each cheek. "I..."

"Farewell, Loki," she said, and pressed a crumpled bag of Auntie Meryble's fruitlets into his hand, "For the journey."



----------


"Good afternoon to you, young sir, and welcome to the Grand Terminal. My name is Naiweedamala. How may I be of assistance to you, today?"

She was the most cheerful Rodian he'd ever met. Naiweedamala was striking in her bright orange blazer; a scrawny thing, she moved like she had stimcaf for blood, quick and snappy and all-too-eager to impress. Loki was, by comparison, a corpse.

"I would like a ticket for Cathar, please."

"Certainly, sir. You will be wanting a Zone B pass for 250 credits. Economy class, of course."

"Thank you."

But the lovely Naiweedamala was not quite finished:

"Would you care for a private quarters pass for an extra hundred credits? You will have a bed, holonet, room service..."

"Economy is fine."

"Of course, you can always treat yourself to extra leg room for fifty."

With her small pouted lips, thin cheeks, and bulbous silvery eyes, Loki was beginning to think she looked rather like a fish that was surprised to find itself out of water.

"No, thank you. I only-"

"Then would you care to indulge in our pre-flight spa package for-"

"Economy... is fine," he managed, through his teeth.

"Excellent! Well, young sir, all you have to do is take the Great Stair down to the second platform and take the seventh turbolift from the right: Cathar departures. You have yourself a great day, now!"



----------


Once he'd located his locker and retrieved his backpack, his credits, and his toolbox, Loki headed for the Great Stair. The queues circled the periphery of an enormous round room and, sure enough, he fell in line with the rest of them. His misadventure to Ando with Taataani Meorrei had left him calloused against the monotony of long waits. His mind drifted into space with the ships above, across the stars, to Cathar, where the next chapter of his life would begin. He saw himself first as an apprentice, and then a respected tradesman of a small, close-knit community, where he'd buy his first home, maybe, and meet a pretty local girl. From his silent reverie surfaced the faintest of smiles.

The Great Stair was guarded like an Imperial base, with guards, computer terminals, and advanced laser shield security systems. Only when a traveller had been thoroughly inspected, and presented their issued pass to the guard were they allowed through the barriers. Loki weathered his inspection in silence, for his tongue had an uncommon ability to turn even the most mundane encounters sour. The guard inspected his tool box, and rifled through the spare parts and scrap, and, when he dug into the depths of his backpack, it was everything in him not to insist on the delicate handling of his clothes. Creased, he thought, murderously - the lot of it, no doubt.

The laser barrier died with a low whine, permitting him to descend the Great Stair itself. It was broader than any staircase he'd ever seen, the clean white marble of its steps glowed like moonlight beneath chandeliers so large they looked like upended crystal trees. The congestion of the queue system made navigating the Stair itself quite pleasant, that is to say Loki did not have to avoid anyone once. The first platform was reserved for the Core Worlds, and, frankly, everywhere he wanted to avoid. Here, the crowd thickened in colourful congregations around the turbolifts. Further down the Stair, on the second platform, the travellers were few and the colours were plain.

Greeted by an expansive semi-circle of lifts, Loki counted seven from the right and, finding it unoccupied, he stepped inside. There were three buttons, he discovered. Three buttons for three floors. Whatever. He thumped the first button and decided to find out where he needed to go the old fashioned way.

[Joe]

"Woah, there." Just before the door slid shut, a man slipped inside. He turned, and regarded the now-sealed door with a satisfied smile, "That was a close one."

His glance crept sideways, and fell upon the boy, "Did you not see me there, kid?"

[Abarai Loki]

"My apologies," Loki began, deflated that his moment of privacy had been scuppered, "I did not."

However he possibly could have missed this one was beyond him, with his wide-brimmed hat, leatheris boots, and a waistcoat made from animal hide. No-one wore clothes like that unless they were auditioning for a movie. In the spirit of good manners, he afforded the stranger a second glance, a nod, and that would be the end of it.

[Joe]

Arms folded, the stranger leaned against the turbolift, and considered the kid from beneath the rim of his handsome hat.

"What business you got on Cathar, friend?"

[Abarai Loki]

"My own." Loki did not turn his gaze on the stranger for fear of burning his face off with it. The nerve of some people.

[Joe]

"So, that's how it's gonna be."

The stranger was undeterred. He found an unremarkable point of interest on the wall across from him, and talked to it.

"Judgin' by that busted old tool chest you're carryin' around, I'd say you're some kinda mechanic. Now, I don't recall there bein' much need for more mechanics on Cathar, kid. You sure you're in the right business?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I am a droid engineer."

The words plodded over his lips, carefully leashed by patience. On the small display, his eyes were fixed, waiting for a sign that this would all soon be over. But there was nothing turbo about the low hum the turbolift made in its ascent, or perhaps, descent - he couldn't be sure. How he loathed small talk, especially with strangers - especially when they were so strange.

[Joe]

"Huh. You don't look like one."

The stranger studied the boy with a frown, as if he could unravel the sum of his parts from across the confined space of the lift. And then, he lost interest.

"Me? I'm a family man." An obligatory tilt of the hat, "The name's Joe."

[Abarai Loki]

"Loki," he conceded with annoyance. And finally, he drank in the sight of the stranger - this Joe - in all his glory.

"You know, you look like a cowboy."

[Joe]

Joe looked down at himself.

"Cowboy?" he repeated, the word seemed to amuse him, "Well, I guess I am, after a fashion."

Suddenly, the lift gave a groan and stopped. The door opened up onto a long stretch of populated docking bays. He gave a nod.

"Guess this is you. See you around, kid."

[Abarai Loki]

"Yeah," Loki retreated from the turbolift, mystified, "See you."

Before the door closed, Loki swore he saw him smile. What a weird guy, and, in all likelihood, the first of many. The galaxy was indeed a weird and wonderful place. And, as he sized up the row of ships, he found himself hoping his next destination would bring less of the former, and more of the latter.

Up ahead, Loki spotted a tall and flustered-looking Duros who was beset on all sides by a party of unhappy Ugnaughts. To his own uneducated ear, the grunting and the squealing of the Ugnaughts was just that, but to the comprehending Duros, their words had him incensed, and he was having none of it. Brandishing his datapad with menace, he dispersed the party with a final blow.

"You deceitful ingrates! You're lucky I don't charge triple! And the next time I catch you attempting to smuggle yourselves through my dock, I'll summon the guards!" He wheeled around on the spot, with a great billowing of robes, and started at the sight of Loki, "Oh! My apologies. I did not see you there. How can I be of assistance, young sir?"

"I am looking for a public transport to Cathar. Is this the right place?"

"You are in the right place..." The dockmaster appeared to labour over his choice of words, "But I'm afraid you're a little early, young sir. The transport from Cathar does not return for another three days."

"Three days!?" Loki blurted in disbelief, "I can't stay here another three days. There must be another option: a round-trip or something."

"I am afraid not, young sir." Despite his alien features, the look of pity that took shape on the dockmaster's face was as clear as day. Loki couldn't bare it. In his desperation, he grasped at one final straw:

"What of Captain Kolonium? Has he returned?"

"Captain..." The Duros considered Loki carefully, stiffened, and said, "Apologies, sir, I'm sure I have no idea who you mean. Good day."

With a nod, the dockmaster departed in haste. Loki's helpless gaze clung to him a moment longer, and then he cast his belongings to the floor, and slumped down upon his tool box before the ground swallowed him whole.

[Rolth Wygraant]

The Feriae star system was a grouping of thirteen worlds. Of these, only the second and third planets were habitable. The rest were an assortment of sun and crater-blasted rocks, hellscapes with poison atmospheres, and gas giants full of crushing gravity and vivid swirling tempests. The outer-most world of Kytir was the latter of these, a vast blue-green titan that barely received the affections of the distant Feriae sun. Kytir and her seventeen moons seemed so far from the speck of civilization within, and not even mineral prospectors paid her much notice. On the fringe, she orbited in silence, half of her surface reflecting her chilly color back inwards. The other half was blacker than night, obscured by the dark of deep space that lay beyond.

Within that darkness concealed unknown terror. The only outward display of looming threat were the pinpricks of artificial light contrasted against the void, arrayed in the shape of a dagger.

"We're in synchronous outer orbit of Kytir, Captain. It's doubtful our arrival was detected."

Rolth Wygraant listened to Commander Belgen's status update as he stared into the abyss of Kytiran night.

"Launch the vipers."

"Sir."

From the illuminated bay of the destroyer Decimator, dozens of small pods disgorged in clusters. Urged on by small engines, the miniscule atmospheric entry vehicles began the long journey from their mother base to the destination of Feriae Junction itself. It would tax the capabilities of the remote spies to their limits, as the Arakyd probe droids were intended to be delivered closer to a targeted world. However, it was a one way trip for them. For the Empire to strike with a decisive stroke, they needed to know precisely where to hit their enemy.

Captain Wygraant excused himself from the bridge, heading towards the aft corridor that lead to Lady Vissica's quarters. The guards at attention nodded to the captain, parting as he stepped to the opening door. Inside the spartan chambers, he glimpsed the Selonian Overlady in a moment of rare repose, curled asleep on a round pad at the center of the room.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The slumbering Selonian seemed to ignore Wygrant's entreating upon her chamber. Her placid expression didn't waver, nor did she shift from her state of rest, with her head cradled atop her hind flank and her tail completing another orbit around her coiled figure. A single eye cracked open just slightly, then closed again. Vissica drew in a long breath, letting it out through her nose in a languid exhalation.

"We have arrived at Feriae?"

[Rolth Wygraant]

The deceptive state of calm of the Imperial Knight did not cause Captain Wygraant to refrain from standing at attention. He remained with his gloved hands clasped behind his back.

"As you instructed, we are in outer orbit of the last planet in the system. It is unlikely our approach was detected."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Slowly, the giantess began to uncoil. It was an act begun by a wide yawn, displaying a curling tongue and an array of pointed teeth. Her four paws found purchase on the ground, steadying Vissica for a stretch that moved in an undulating wave from the top of her neck to the tip of her tail. Muscles tensed and relaxed, showing their steely contours through the Knight's short coat of fur.

"Prepare my shuttle for departure."

[Rolth Wygraant]

This wasn't part of the plan, or at least that which had been revealed to him. Wygraant's expression telegraphed his mild surprise.

"My Lady, shouldn't we wait for the probe droids to discover signs of the insurgency's whereabouts?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica rolled her flexible spine up, broadening her hind forepaws as she stood tall adjacent to her subordinate.

"No, Captain. There is more than one way to flush an enemy from hiding."

Clasping on her armor, the Selonian pushed Wygraant aside as she called her lightsaber to her grasp.

"Conduct your spies as necessary. If our enemies have made allies on Junction, I will persuade them to betrayal."

[Rolth Wygraant]

The Captain wasn't cowed so quickly. He squared his shoulders, eyes meeting that of the Selonian.

"There is the chance that your directness may cause the insurgents to go to ground, or worse, flee the planet before the noose tightens. The destroyers Rostrum and Quaestor are within a sector's reach. I suggest no less than a destroyer line if we are to control this theater."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"See that it's done."

Vissica left her quarters, not slowing her gait to coddle the captain's conversation. She headed towards the turbolift that would carry her to the launch bays.

"I intend to send a message to this band of terrorists. Make certain that they hear me clearly."

The lift doors closed in the distance between Captain and Knight, punctuating their conversation with finality.

Minutes later, Decimator began the launch of her Arakyd viper probe droids. Dozens of small atmospheric entry pods streaked from her main bay, scattering into the dark of space. Behind them, a lambda class shuttle slowly lowered from the secondary bay, deploying her wings as soon as she dropped clear from the mother ship. Accelerating ahead, the shuttle moved on a direct course for Junction. Vissica hovered in the background of the cockpit, watching the planets sail by as they closed distance toward the second planet.

"Inform the central starport that an Imperial Envoy has arrived to meet with King Vashakhal."

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Well now, you look like one of those strong silent types. You know, the ones who bottle it in and just keep trekkin'," a voice said, getting closer to Loki. A pair of worn brown boots entered his field of vision and the owner of the voice knelt before him, revealing a smiling Togruta girl. "Yer cute. Buck up, yeah? 'S always darkest before dawn, as they say. Well, not where I grew up; but it's gotta be true somewhere yeah?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki's gaze climbed the stranger like she was a mountain. Her introduction, for want of a better word, crashed down with all the irresistible force of an avalanche. Under better circumstances, Loki might've braced himself for the onslaught of unwelcome conversation; as it was, in that moment, his tolerance for people was about zero. And, as if it wasn't enough that this Togruta girl had picked an entire bouquet of assumptions about him, seemingly from thin air, but she went so far as to casually assess him like a bantha calf at market.

Cute, he almost repeated, bristling. He wasn't a kitten. And why should he buck up? Was it expected of him because she smiled and dispensed folksy wisdom from the twelfth moon of nowhere? His eyes did most of the talking: an unspoken medley of weariness, irritation, and bewilderment. But what his mouth said was:

"Who are you?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Eh," she said, shrugging her shoulders. "No one special. Name's Shuvin."

She disregarded his antisocial demeanour and simply continued to crouch there, smiling at him.

"You look like you could use a drink. Wanna join me, or should I just scamper off and leave you to your lonesome?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Shuvin," he repeated, with consideration. Names were important and, sometimes, they were also the key to unlocking a significant truth about someone. In Shuvin's case, however, the name did little to consolidate the sum of her parts into a comprehensive whole. She seemed friendly enough, but it begged the question of why a girl like her had taken an interest in someone like him. His gaze drifted, in search of a clue, of some hint of where she came from. Nothing seemed to be amiss, or, at the very least, suspicious.

"Loki," he replied, rising.

There was something rather crushing about her apparent authenticity: what a pitiful sight he must be. And it was kindness, then, that had compelled Shuvin to take action - an acute reminder that there were some people in the galaxy that actually liked making conversation with strangers, and that it wasn't that abnormal. An opportunity had presented itself to him - he still didn't put any stock in that Will of the Force nonsense - and he was going to take full advantage of it.

Besides, she wasn't wrong about him needing a drink; his misfortune stuck to him like mud, and all it would take was a hot stimcaf or a fresh spiced tea to rinse it all away.

"Lead the way. Please."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica's shuttle parted the clouds as it made the final descent towards Junction's grand terminal starport. With word sent in advance of who was on board - and what business was to be attended to - the harbormaster quickly ensured that a priority landing pad was cleared. The messages passed from the harbormaster to the royal staff were disjointed and rapid. Of course, the Imperial Envoy could land without delay. *Why* exactly was an Imperial Envoy here?. The unusual nature of the landing was only highlighted a minute before touchdown as a large security presence arrived quickly from the capitol.

"I'm Protector Carstan, of the King's Watch. Where is the harbormaster?"

"That would be me. Master Anderos."

The Protector seemed disinterested in the introduction as he watched an honor guard deploy around the periphery of the landing sight.

"Can you tell me *anything* of note about the Imperial request?"

Anderos shook his head, showing the bewilderment of the situation that the Protector shared. "Nothing, Protector. They requested an audience with the King, and demanded landing clearance."

One thing was certain from these questions - the King was not expecting to meet with the Empire today. Anderos felt more uneasy than ever.

"They're on final approach. I can divert them off course if necessary."

Protector Carstan looked at the harbormaster as if he'd suddenly gone insane.

"They're the *Galactic Empire*."

Neither man had to strain to remember the days in which Feriae Junction was under the heel of dictatorship. Not enough time had passed to dispel the oppressive notion that it could happen again. Anderos gulped heavily.

"It's just one ship, Protector. I ordered a sensor sweep, no other ships have arrived."

"More the reason to permit them to land. See what they want, give them no cause for offense, and hopefully one ship is all we will see."

At the throaty sound of a decelerating engine, both men looked to the distance. The distinctive tri-wing silhouette of an Imperial shuttle coasted into view. When it was nearly upon the landing pad, the low-slung side wings drew upward to form a pyramid against the dorsal aileron. Four squat landing struts dropped from the fuselage as the large transport drifted the last few meters on repulsors, thumping against the ground.

Protector Carstan squared the cap on his head, glancing back to the harbormaster.

"Keep the port batteries on alert, all the same. Pray we dont have to use them."

Anderos nodded, using the order as an excuse to clear the landing pad - in the event of the worst. Carstan returned his attention to the landed shuttle, and the gangplank that now touched ground. A hiss of steam from the undercarriage briefly obfuscated the opening, before half a dozen stormtroopers filed through it, standing three men to each side of the ramp. The last figure to emerge exited on four legs, with all the appearance of a beast. That initial appraisal was dispelled the moment that it bunched it's stance, rising to two legs as it cleared from beneath the shuttlecraft.

Whatever Carstan had imagined he'd see upon meeting the Imperial Envoy, this was not it.

"Welcome to Feriae Junction," the Protector offered nervously, "My name is Protecto-"

"I am not interested in your introduction." The Selonian cut off her host brusquely. "I have business with King Vashakhal. I will see him immediately."

Carstan's brow furrowed in surprise, and he worked to conceal it with a more amicable expression.

"My apologies, Envoy, but the King is presently occupied with domestic matters of state. I assure you he plans to meet with you shortly. If you would be so kind to inform me of the nature of your visit, it may help to expedite - "

With no appetite for stalling, Vissica cut Carsten off with a snort, flaring her whiskers.

"You will take me to your King now." A subtle gesture from the Selonian's paw went unnoticed, as the Protector suddenly reconsidered the wisdom of the Envoy's request.

"I will take you to my King now." he agreed, now convinced that the Selonian's urgency was indeed well-placed. "This way, of course."

The Protector and his guard escorted Vissica and her troopers onward without any more protest, as they filed into a nearby tram that would carry them directly to the palace district. As they walked, Carsten tried in vain to remember exactly why he'd disagreed in the first place.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben blinked, a frown on his face.

For a moment there, he could have sworn he'd heard someone saying his name, but Shuvin was long gone seeing the sights, and their contacts weren't due back for another couple of hours. He stopped and listened, but could hear nothing else.

One might think that an open access hatch to the shield emitter diverter on the dorsal hull might not be the best place to listen for someone calling, what with the thick metal hull and the cramped crawlways that held the wiring harnesses being good sound buffers.

But Ben didn't let that bother him.

"—n Merasska?"

See? There it was again.

"Captain Merasska?"

Now he was beginning to think that someone was actually —

"CAPTAIN MERASSKA! HELLO!"

Ben jumped, smacking the back of his head into the thankfully rounded metal shell of a part of the harness system.

"Kriff!" he gasped, staggering to his feet once he'd reached the hatch. Immediately his hand went to the burgeoning lump on his scalp and he hissed in pain. "What? What do you want?"

"To talk!"

He looked down. A woman, with a military cut and chubby features without truly being heavy stood there.

"About a deal made earlier to meet us and talk about certain names," she continued, when Ben's answer wasn't forthcoming. Ben frowned.

"It ain't all that smart to be shouting that out for the whole world to hear, sister," he called back. "And this much traffic to my bay'll attract attention."

"Circumstances have changed, and you might be interested in just how so," she said, real urgency in her voice. "We need to move the cargo now, and we'll give you what you want."

Ben frowned.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"So, a droid engineer looking to go to Cathar?" Shuvin asked, sipping her milk tea and leaning back in her seat. She gave him a considering look. "Didn't peg you for the kind of guy to like hairy partners, but..."

Shuvin shrugged, as if put into movement not only her tolerance of such a thing but also her general apathy towards it as well. The gesture was at odds with her crooked smile though.

"Looking for work out there? Already got a job? Ain't none of my business, but I'm curious so I'm asking anyway. If I'm prying too much go ahead and tell me where I can shove my curiosity."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Royal Palace of Feriae gleamed and glittered with each passing source of light. It's impressive tower of polished white stone was given luminous qualities with accents of abalone tracing it's majestic features. During the Imperial occupation, the regional governor had seen fit to evict the King and usurp the property for himself, seeing no reason to let a symbol of authority go to waste. When the occupation drew to an end, a scorched-earth tactic of destroying the palace had been thwarted by the Rebels, preserving the seat of government for the nascent throne to claim once more.

As Lady Vissica was escorted to the gates by the Kings' Guard, even a stoic such as herself had to account for the splendor of what stood before her. The sight caused her eyes to linger a moment more than they might have otherwise. The throne of Feriae was no trifle on this world. These people respected what it represented. A pity that the message had become muddied so recently.

As the gates threw open with a slow groan, the phalanx of guard continued to accompany the Knight within. Vissica passed tapestry and finery without a glance, sated enough by the appraisal made at the palace's threshold. From the entrance hall, the main chamber lay straight ahead, it's vaulted ceiling and hovering chandeliers bathing the hall in prismatic light. It was all carefully conceived to draw a vistor's eyes where they rightfully belonged...the throne.

Lady Vissica paused at the center of the room, letting her eyes take full stock of where they'd been lead. A gilded, high-backed chair, upon which sat a child.

"Greetings, King Vashakhal." The Selonian rumbled, not prostrating her posture an inch before this frontier royal. "My name is Matatek Sel Vissica. I come in the name of -"

"You were not invited here, Imperial."

The child king's haughty, blue-blooded inflection spoke with clarity and force of authority enough to silence Vissica. The rest of the Selonian's intended words squelched into an impatiently-subdued growl.

"This kingdom is closed to your kind. I will not suffer a creature of the Empress to stand in my sight."

At the King's right hand, a middle-aged man in flowing purple vestments smiled nervously at the Selonian, then turned to the throne.

"Highness..." the royal steward began, carefully, "...this Imperial comes in peace. Perhaps we should listen to him. Before we send him away, of course."

"That would be wise." Vissica spoke in the space given by the steward's interruption, again turning all eyes back to her. "Rest assured, I have come to you in the interests of the people of Feriae."

King Vashakhal was unmoved. Even swallowed in his regal garb and with baby fat in his cheeks, his birthright suited him.

"You are part of the Galactic Empire, a once sworn enemy of my world." The King leveled his accusation like a sword. "Your kind have ever only come to offer war and oppression. Your words weigh nothing to me."

The Steward seemed to wince at his charge's words. "Highness..."

Vissica took a step toward the throne, causing every member of the King's guard to square their force pikes against her in unison. The Knight didn't take a second step. Her gimlet eyes kept unblinking vigil on the King and his steward.

"I am a Selonian. I hold nothing more valuable than my word, Great King."

She paused, glancing back over her shoulder for a moment.

"Even this."

Reaching over her shoulder, Vissica grasped the knurled grip of her greatsaber. No sooner did the back scabbard click open than a pair of force pikes appeared below her chin. The Selonian's expression was featureless, save for the raising of her whiskers. A guardsman finished the task of unsheathing her weapon for her, confiscating the greatsaber as he approached the throne. Two steps before the king, the guard dropped to his knees, raising the weapon for King Vashakhal's inspection.

Lady Vissica didn't protest an ounce. She didn't even flinch. Her unblinking eyes kept fixated on the young king. Vashakhal's attention reluctantly broke from his guest, peering down to the heavy instrument before him. For a moment, the child king became child-like, his blue eyes brightening with a hint of wonder.

"This is a laser sword?"

The King glanced to his Steward, who nodded in confirmation. Vashakhal's eyes returned to the Selonian.

"The laser sword of a Jedi Knight?"

Vissica's flews parted only slightly, revealing her tipped teeth.

"It is a similar weapon. One which serves the Empress."

Vashakhal's eyes narrowed with suspicion.

"The Jedi are all gone. Your Empire saw to that."

Vissica didn't waste her time quashing the King's ignorance. It remained useful.

"Such is the fate of the Empire's enemies, Great King. That is why I am here. We share an enemy in common."

The Steward's expression slackened, and he broke procedure to speak with the Knight directly. "What do you mean?"

At last, Vissica could speak directly to the arbiter of power of this world. Her head turned ever-so-slightly to the Steward.

"Our province of Cathar has been attacked on several occasions by marauders passing across the frontier. It has proven difficult to trace their activity until now. We captured one of the marauders' starships in deep space. Her captain cooperated in providing the location of their hidden base."

With every word, Vissica studied the Steward's face, which seemed to blanch the longer she talked.

"A stroke of good news." he stammered through dry lips, forcing a smile. "It is regrettable, many of the unaffiliated worlds do remain lawless."

The Selonian flicked her tongue along her muzzle.

"The location given was here."

"That is a lie!" The King protested, rising from his throne to stand before it. "You dare come before me and..."

"Highness!" the Steward snapped, cutting off the King's protests with a raised hand. He turned back to Vissica, wringing his hands slightly.

"Matatek Sel Vissica," the Steward tried the alien name on, finding it's alien-ness unsettling, "our war with the Empire has ended. We have no quarrel with you any more. Whatever this brigand may have told you, I assure you, it must be a complete fabrication."

The Imperial Knight's demeanor remained cool and unmoved. "Then, you have no knowledge of these insurgents?"

"No!" The Steward blurted, color returning to his face as he asserted his rebuke with vigor. "Certainly not! Even if they took shelter here, we...we would have driven them out. You see, many ships pass through Feriae Junction. Many ships. Unfortunately, it is impossible to guarantee all visitors have good intentions. But we are a world of law. Aggression...aggression the likes of which you allege. It has no place here. No place."

For a moment, Vissica said nothing. She glanced to the King, still rooted to the spot with an unflinching eye on her, and then back to his steward.

"I am pleased to hear this. Perhaps we can work together to discover if this accusation holds any truth."

As the steward worked on crafting a response, his young charge took the lead, "I agree, Imperial."

"Highness..."

"That is enough, Kaiz!" The King overtopped his steward, his youthful hands balled into fists at his sides. "I do not want to suffer the Empire any longer than is necessary. Travel with the captain of my guard. I give you one day to conduct your search. After one day, if you have not found these criminals, you will leave."

Steward Kaiz looked at his king with muted horror, which quickly became a feigned look of acceptance. Vissica kept her attention on the King as she carefully retrieved her lightsaber from the nearby guard's hands. Clipping it back to it's scabbard, the Selonian's tail lightly thumped the marble floor.

"I accept your wise decision, King Vashakhal."

Knight Vissica then bowed, her flexible spine slinking in deep prostration before rising again.

"With your leave, I will begin my search at the Grand Terminal."

[Abarai Loki]

"Looking for work out there? Already got a job? Ain't none of my business, but I'm curious so I'm asking anyway. If I'm prying too much go ahead and tell me where I can shove my curiosity."

From behind his steaming cup of liment-spiced tea, Loki's knotted brow untangled, and lifted in surprise. Holding a conversation with Shuvin was like trying to overtake a swoop bike in a one-legged race. There were leaps between questions and statements that defied logic, and yet, she made it seem effortless. Instead of tackling her most recent remarks, Loki clung to the questions about his work. And, even if he had felt ill at ease with her unbridled curiosity, where in the world could he possibly tell her to shove it? What a strange invitation.

"I have no work arrangements in place yet," he said. It was a more coherent response than the one he'd offered at the mention of 'hairy partners,' earlier. Once he'd figured it was some sort of joke, however, he'd shrugged it off with an uncertain "Heh."

The shrugging, this time around, dismissed the litany of doubts that came shackled to his confession. His plan was no different from the one that had brought him this far. Some might call it luck, but he remained confident in the knowledge that, as long as people needed droids, he'd always find work.

"My rates are reasonable enough. All I need is the credits for bunk and board, and a little extra for my next trip." To emphasise his point, he produced the limp and useless flimsi from his jacket pocket. It was slapped onto the table before he could rip it in two. He wasn't going to give into despair again, not when he had company, and a particularly good cup of tea. The cup was raised to his lips for a sip, and then he considered the girl across from him.

"So, what's your story?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

The culture shock and missed meanings were abundant here, she noted to herself as she picked up the flimsi and looked it over. She was used to it, being the fixer on a tramp freighter.

"Ah, I'm nothing special," she said, still looking at the flimsi. "Just another making their way through the black, an' all that. I'm a mechanic aboard Alderaan. Cap'n Ben and Cerie and me and open space. Wherever the cargo takes us, we go, you know? We've had a few adventures, a few bad times. You're right about always having a market, but you'll need time and connections and credits anyway to set up a business, right?"

She took a sip of her own tea. IT WAS SO GOOD.

"I'd see about gettin' you a bunk, but we don't have a droid on board, and without a service or credits, Ben won't take you on. Sorry," she sighed. "I mean, unless you save my life or something. Would that be considered a trade?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Perhaps we can convince your captain I saved you from a dangerously hot cup of tea," Loki said, with a lift of the eyebrow, "I'm afraid that will be about as life-threatening as it gets around here. You seem like the convincing sort, though."

His gaze roamed, as if in search of something remotely dangerous. Small round tables crowded the tea shop, packed tight into corners, next to windows that overlooked a bustling stretch of the spaceport. It was a small understated retreat from the chaos below, dressed in delicate fabrics of sky blue and sea green; sunlight blossomed at regular intervals across the room where narrow skylights pierced the roof, and, in the kitchen, a row of tall silver kettles belched aromatic clouds into the air. It was busy, in a pleasant sort of way. The hum of conversation fell on Loki's ears as music, and, for a moment, he almost forgot where he was. Almost.

And she seemed nice enough. It came as no surprise her captain would be unwilling to ferry him to Cathar on nothing but good will, but then, he had never been one to go looking for charity in the first place. He would make his way under his own power. That was the rule. At least she was trying, though. A smile wasn't too much to ask, was it? He felt his face move in the way that felt a bit like exercise. There. He did it.

"Tell me about this ship of yours." The name had not gone unnoticed: "Alderaan​."

[Shuvin Undhi]

"All right now, I'm gonna make a guess here," Shuvin said, leaning back in her seat and giving him an almost pitying look, "and say you just tried to smile. I could be wrong; maybe you just found an especially bitter part of your tea or something."

She leaned forward again.

"Do me a favor though and don't smile unless it comes natural to you, hey?" She grinned. "If you have to try, it ain't worth the effort."

She drank some more of her tea, and flagged the server down and held up her empty cup.

"Alderaan's a Ghtroc-720. Third generation, one of the last ships off the line. We've overhauled her so much though she only looks one on the outside. I'd bet she's just as fast as the Millenium Falcon was, with better shields! We've got better passenger capacity than stock without sacrificing cargo space, and we're better equipped to do a whole load of things out in the black."

She stopped when the server dropped by with a glass of dark brown tea with small orbs suspended within.

"Ah, sorry, I tend to ramble when it comes to my baby," she said.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

With King Vashakhal's watch guard in her temporary employ, Vissica wasted little time in her task.

"Protector Carstan, lock down this spaceport's departures."

The ranking member of the King's Watch frowned at the request of the ermine guest.

"The entire spaceport, are you mad? It will disrupt the local economy. What do you expect us to tell the star captains?"

"You may tell them whatever pleases you," Vissica coolly dismissed, her posture slinking slightly as they walked. "so long as they comply with the order. Our priorities are the medium tramp freighters. Target ships with keels longer than seventy meters, and assign your scanning crews there."

Carstan kept pace with the Selonian, but only with conscious effort. She covered ground with purpose.

"I suppose we're looking for the obvious? Tibanna cells, explosive residue, arms components and the like?"

"Don't be so rote, Protector." Vissica's almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly as she winded a passing breeze. "Our prey are inventive and cover their tracks well. Act on your instincts. Do not hesitate to detain on even a thin suspicion."

Carstan eyed a nearby Ghtroc-class freighter, choking up his grasp on the force pike he carried.

"You'll overwhelm the city jails with prisoners. How do you possibly expect us to sort the guilty from the innocent?"

The big Selonian paused in her tracks, her torso pivoting 90 degrees to square up her partner.

"You will find that I specialize in just that assignment."

[Abarai Loki]

"Ah, sorry, I tend to ramble when it comes to my baby," she said.

"No. It's fine. I find it interesting. Honestly."

With each stunted statement, Loki attempted more earnest sincerity. Inwardly, he winced at the 'honestly,' for it seemed to unravel the knot of words in which he'd tied himself up. It wasn't that he was uninterested - quite the opposite - but, in his quiet desperation to appear genuine - normal, even - perhaps he'd pushed himself too far. Shuvin was right: if it didn't come naturally, don't do it at all.

"Sorry," he huffed, exasperated with himself, "I'm not impolite. I just seem that way."

For a second, he lost himself in his tea cup. Any other idiotic words that could wander into the open were imprisoned behind a firmly-clamped jaw. He liked ships; he didn't have to convince Shuvin of this, he just had to talk about them. It wasn't that complicated.

"I once apprenticed under a mechanic aboard an old YT-666," he confessed, wondering if his brief stint of poking around Layla with Cirr could ever be considered an apprenticeship. "I was much smaller back then, and the first thing I had to do was crawl inside the superstructure of the ion drive. The mechanic was convinced it needed recalibrating, but instead, I found a dead mynock."

This time, he smiled before he realised it. Just the flicker of a fond memory, passing like a light across his face, before it faded from view. His gaze followed it, through the window, into the spaceport below. A shimmer of light, rippling like water over polished plastoid. They moved in formation, and with purpose; their weapons held aloft like banners. The smile was extinguished, and his face creased in thought.

"Do you know who they are?" He directed Shuvin with a nod, "They don't look like airport security to me."

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin smiled herself at the nostalgic expression that creased the dimples at the sides of Loki's mouth.

"Now that's better," she murmured into her tea.


"Do you know who they are?" He directed Shuvin with a nod, "They don't look like airport security to me."

The Togruta glanced outside.

"No clue," she replied, her brows coming together slightly. "Though if Cap'n Ben sees them, he'll probably panic and think someone's after him again."

She almost laughed when she turned back to Loki.

"Now to be fair, the Cap'n isn't completely off his chair. We've had a few close calls."

Her face fell into a sad, wistful expression for a moment, like a cloud's shadow passing over the ground, and just as quickly.

"But whatever they're prowlin' round for, it ain't gonna make anyone happy, I'm guessing. We should just sit still and see what happens, yeah?"

[Ben Merasska]

"Take off the blinders and binders," a voice said.

Ben grumbled to himself as the thick cloth tied over his eyes was removed.

"Was all that really necessary?" he asked, as the binders cuffing his arms behind his back were released too. The Rebel merely gave him a placid look.

"Our lives depend on the secrecy of this place, and others. The weapons are somewhere else now, and we'll put them to good use."

Ben huffed a laugh.

"Somehow I doubt that," he sighed.

"And yet you delivered them anyway?"

"Credits are credits," Ben answered. They were sitting in what he thought was the back of a cantina. The Rebel was sitting at the far end of a grimy table from him, arms crossed over his chest and three blaster-toting guerillas behind him.

"Yes," the man answered, leaning back in his seat. "But you're not only after mere credits, are you, Ben Merasska?"

"I'm looking for a bounty hunter," Ben answered. "Bear Banthabrand. And more."

"Oh?" the Rebel's eyebrow raised.

"Should we be making deals like this right now?" the woman asked, stepping forward. "Imperials are here, and the King's own men are helping them close down the port."

"Sounds like you have a host of other problems, but that don't mean you can't pay me what you owe," Ben interjected. The Rebel turned to look at a well dressed man.

"You'll get your payment, Ben Merasska," the man answered, and turned to leave.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

As the King's Watch moved through the nearest freighter berths, Vissica held back two dozen paces, drawing a small profile commstick from her armored cuirass.

"Report."

[Rolth Wygraant]

"The probes have all touched down on the planet's surface, my Lady."

Captain Wygraant surveyed a line of half a dozen computer screens in the bridge's lower pit, standing behind a team of junior naval SIGINT officers making sense of the multiple data streams.

"If these partisans are on Feriae Junction, they're being awfully clever about keeping quiet to the fact. Initial reconnaissance is at best inconclusive."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"They are here, Captain..." Vissica droned in testy monotone, pulling the slack from the leash of Captain Wygraant's active skepticism.

"There is more. The partisans may have official assistance. My feelings tell me the King's Regent knows of their activities. The King has permitted my search, but..."

Wary gimlet eyes watched a pair of Protectors move toward the next berth, and the cautious Selonian stayed her tongue until they passed.

"...I expect to be led into a trap. I will signal every half hour. If I fail to do so, you know what to do."

With nothing further needed saying, the Knight deactivated the comm line as the protectors finally moved to the next ship. The Selonian moved to pass the Ghtroc when she slowed her gait, giving it another look. There wasn't anything outward to demand her due diligence, it was a feeling at most.

Vissica approached.

[Shuvin Undhi]

At Alderaan, the Ghtroc-720...

At the entrance to the landing pad, all was quiet. The 720 looked fairly normal, with its hull in good condition but still patched with green plating in spots; the entry ramp was closed, and no mist hung about, signaling the use of hydraulics in the past half standard hour.

As Vissica approached, however, a vidscreen near the entrance flickered to life, prominently displaying both Ben and Shuvin's faces along with a list of destinations and rates for transport of people and cargo.

It should be noted that Shuvin was smiling while Ben simply looked surprised.


At the tea shop...

Shuvin sighed, watching the soldiers march past with mostly idle curiosity.

"Can't do too much," she said after a moment. "This place runs on tourism and transport. Closing it down for even a short time will play four hells with their revenue."

Her comlink buzzed, causing her to jump and nearly spill her tea.

"Ah, someone's activated our fare-page," she murmured. She turned a mischievous grin Loki's way. "Wanna take a look and see who it is?"

The small projector on her comlink glowed, and a tiny form of a Selonian appeared.

"Now that's an odd look for a Selonian, don't you think?" she asked.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica rested a broad paw along the edge of the vidscreen. She cast a scrutinizing glance at the pair of sentients who appeared to comprise the crew. A timid-looking human and a feistier Togruta. She was about to walk off when she paused, glancing back.

There it was again. A feeling. A connection. But to what? It could be something as simple as a connection to Feriae, but in that case, why did she feel this way with this ship and not others?

Withdrawing her hand as a prop against the hull, Vissica tested the hatch mechanism. Locked, naturally.

B. Merasska
S. Undhi

[Abarai Loki]

"Now that's an odd look for a Selonian, don't you think?"

"I cannot say I'm familiar with what Selonians normally look like," he said, holding back a shrug.

Loki leaned closer, until the light from the hologram made his eyes burn like pulsar stars. The first thing he noticed about the alien was how still it was, there was no fidgeting or idle gesturing, just... focus. It had the physique of something strong, and wore an expression he thought he recognised. Perhaps it was his imagination; some aliens were more difficult to read than others. His finger prodded the tiny Selonian in the chest.

"Interesting armour," his frown resurfaced, "I suppose they ran out of metal for the bottom half."

Then, with the slightest dip of the soldier, something the Selonian was wearing caught his eye. He stood and quickly rounded the table to peer over Shuvin's shoulder. A long majestic cape poured down the alien's back, emblazoned with an all-too-familiar symbol. Even when etched out in anaemic hologram blue, it pierced his heart like a shard of ice.

"The Empire. They're here."

There was something else, too. Slung over the Selonian's shoulder, there was an unusually long cylinder secured inside a scabbard. It was a weapon, a weapon that was unmistakably...

"Look at that, it's a..." he forced a stumble in his words, "Looks like one of those laser swords, doesn't it?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Hon," Shuvin said, leaning back and deactivating the comlink, "the Empire's everywhere. 'Cept maybe the Alliance."

She glanced around, wondering whether anyone had snatched a glimpse of the hologram, but it seemed like they were mynock-free.

"Chances are she's an Imperial Knight," the Togruta hummed. "Not a good thing, but the ship's sealed up tight, if Ben hasn't had our cargo delivered already.

"I wonder if..." she paused, looking thoughtful for a moment, before shaking her head, her lekku bouncing slightly with the movement. "Anyway, so what is your plan, Abarai Loki?"

She grinned, glancing back at him and his closeness.

"If it's seducing me to secure passage..."

She winked.

"I'd be amenable."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Knight Vissica."

Drawn from her focused inspection, Vissica pivoted in a slink to face a member of the Kings Watch.

"What is it?"

"It's probably nothing," the young human prefaced with a raised hand, "but passive scans have identified one of the bulk haulers showing signs of aurodium and dormium. It could be used to shield an energy source, possibly weapon systems."

A more salient point of suspicion than a pair of unknown spacers. Vissica pivoted her lower body to match her torso's orientation.

"Show me."

"As you wish." the Protector nodded, gesturing down the concourse with an open hand.

It wasn't far. Ten minutes down the main thoroughfare brought Vissica to a dilapidated Rendili StarDrive KR42 freighter. A pair of Protectors posted by the access hatch, dissuading any unauthorized entries and discouraging nosy pedestrians from venturing for a closer look. Vissica approached the guards, her wet nose crinkling slightly as she eyed the sealed hatch.

"Have your men conducted search of this vessel?"

A grey-haired Protector shook his head.

"The hatch is sealed, and no crew have been found. We've sent a group of Protectors to search for the ship captain, an Itkochi named Narau Wauk."

"Unseal the hatch."

"Perhaps it is best to wait until the ship's captain can be - "

"Time is a currency I don't waste." The Selonian interrupted forcefully. "Open this door. By key, by slice, or by explosive force if you must."

The protector grimaced slightly, then turned to nod to the second man at the door. The younger member of the watch, a dark-skinned man with a tight stripe of hair crowning his head, promptly prepared a set of security-grade slicer tools and began to manipulate the hatch control. The lock protocols resisted the intrusion, but it was only a matter of time. A minute later, a series of triple beeps signaled the successful termination of the slice routine, and the freighter's heavy durasteel clamshell door opened with a hermetic hiss. Vissica stood her ground as the pair of Protectors peered inward, leading with their force pikes. The interior of the craft was voluminous yet dark, but clarity was fast approaching. The uncertainty Vissica had felt earlier was being teased apart. Her instincts compelled her in this direction, and she suspected her early appraisal of the conflict were about to be confirmed.

"Foodstuffs. Bottled water." One of the protectors prodded a cargo pod at the rear of the hold with his pike, hearing a hollow sound in the metal. Opening the hatch revealed a container supposedly full to the brim with rations. The protector followed his instincts, wedging the edge of his pike between the container wall and the outer-most rations. His suspicions were rewarded when the entire upper layer of rations peeled away along with the liner board they were adhered to, revealing a large empty space beneath.

"False bottom. Smugglers."

All of this was expected. Vissica allowed the men to do their work, her dark eyes drifting closed as she searched the shadows of the force. No matter how well concealed by poor lighting, there was a clarity of focus at work that belonged to someone unseen.

This was the trap.

Vissica's eyes snapped open just as concentric rings of blue energy bit out from the shadows, striking each protector in the chest. The guards flailed, crumpling to the deck as their force pikes clattered away. Before the Selonian Knight could take a step, a dozen figures burst from corners and hidden smuggling compartments, each with a weapon trained on her.

If a Selonian could smile, she would. In her own approximation, Vissica's whiskers spread on her face, even as a pair of rough hands from behind man-handled her lightsaber out of its scabbard.

"We knew the Empire would send one of her sinister agents."

A bearded man stepped out into the sparse light, pressing the muzzle of his heavy rifle at Vissica's breast plate.

"Give me an excuse. I won't lose sleep over a dead Imperial."

Vissica slowly raised her forepaws, splaying the fingers wide to accentuate the vestigial webbing between each digit.

"I surrender."

[Abarai Loki]

It was about the same time as when Shuvin identified the Selonian, that Loki arrived at the same conclusion.

"Imperial Knights," he muttered, the words were drenched in contempt.

He'd seen the propaganda: valiant protectors of the Empire, recruiting Force sensitives to their noble cause. They dressed themselves in ostentatious cloaks, and carried lightsabers, they used the Force, and had the gall to call the Jedi Temple home. Charlatans and hypocrites to a man. It was not enough that the Empire had poisoned history with its lies, now it attempted to rewrite its own rule book, and call it justice. His knuckles were white, wrapped tightly around the back of Shuvin's chair. He looked down at her, and caught the last stretch of words to tumble out of her mouth. Words that would normally turn him nervous and pink. Instead, her winning smile was swept away like rain from a windshield.

"I'm sorry. This is not a good time to flirt."

He rounded the table once again, but found himself unable to return to his seat.

"Perhaps you should contact this... Captain Ben of yours. He may wish to know high-ranking Imperial agents are snooping around his ship."

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin frowned and tried the comlink, but left it on the table and focused on Loki.

"What's with this then?" she asked. "You weren't mister sunshine before, but you got a feelin' of danger about you now."

She rested a hand on her chin.

"Not thinkin' of doin' something foolish now, hm?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

An Undisclosed Location


Far from the outskirts of Feriae City, a landspeeder raced along a cushion of repulsor energy. The craft sailed over the rolling hills, dotted by ever-increasing groves of evergreen trees that eventually gave way to pasture land. Within shimmering energy fences, herds of shaak and kantookori grazed uninterrupted and aloof to the speeder's approach. The road twisted, eventually branching off towards the gate of an immense ranch. Two guards manned a booth set to the side of the entryway. As the speeder slowed, the guards and the driver nodded in unspoken arrangement. The shield fell, allowing the speeder to pass on the private road that would lead to the ranch house and complex several kilometers into the valley.

The speeder's driver and the four armed men in the cabin spoke not a word. Their unwilling passenger likewise remained silent. Vissica's broad head had been hooded by an opaque sack thrown over to blind her to the outside world. She had been disarmed and bound in stun cuffs. Her enemies believed that she was subdued, and for the moment she certainly was. Cut off from the world that she could see, the Selonian took in whatever else that hadn't been denied her. The bustle of the city had long ago left them behind. The sound of an animal in passing. The stink of musk and sweet hay. The muted hum of a shield generator. And for everything that her ears and her nose might miss, the force did not. The force never slept.

After another twenty minutes, the speeder drifted to a halt. Weight shifted in the cabin as men filed out, boots crunching on chert rock as the sound of other footfalls grew louder in the distance. Vissica was wrenched out of the craft by the collar of her armor cuirass and thrown to the ground roughly.

"Get up, Imperial scum!"

A rifle buttstock jabbed expertly beneath her cuirass, striking above the kidney. The Selonian keened in a high pitch, a sound as begrudgingly reserved as she would permit. Two pairs of hands hooked under her arms, wrenching the ermine alien to her hind feet.

"Get moving!"

A boot heel jammed into Vissica's fleshy tail, causing her to betray her silence once more. The pained yip was followed by a dull growl that quickly tapered back into cool silence as she begrudgingly complied with her captors. The hiss of servomechanisms and the sudden sensation of darkness through the hood hinted that she was being marched indoors, which was confirmed a moment later as her bare feet padded cold tiles.

The air stank of machine oil, sweat, animal dung, and ozone. Heady mixtures of industry and beings living in close proximity assailed Vissica's wet nose as she furtively sniffed against the cloth. She could feel the presence of dozens of beings in passing as she was frog-marched. Muted words didn't escape her notice.

"Who is that?"

"Imperial. Jannek says it came down with the shuttle."

"Some kind of contractor? Didn't think the Empire dealt with aliens."

"Is that what I think it is?"

"Never seen one before, but it sure looks like it."

"What do we do about the troopers at the port?"

"The Protectors will handle that. They'll be gone in a day."

"Gone, he says. The Empire never just leaves."

"They left before. They'll leave again."

Vissica's gait slowed as she instinctively tried to hang onto each mumbled conversation in her wake. For that, she was rewarded with another strike from a rifle, this one catching her just under the jaw. The Selonian barked and snarled, meriting another strike to her stomach that put her on the ground, sucking her breath.

"See that? Hit 'em just right, and they all go down."

More hands reached down, and Vissica was back on her feet before she caught her breath once more. There was more walking, a few turns, and the sound of something heavy and metal, sliding and scraping along a track. A door, most likely. The Selonian knight was pushed inside.

"Kneel."

Vissica responded to the command by standing to her full height. Only a kick to the back of her right leg brought her knee to the ground. Suddenly, the hood was snatched off her head. The Selonian's gimlet eyes narrowed to compensate for the sudden saturation of light in the room. Just in time to catch the silhouette in motion of a fist swinging down upon her...

"Hyih!" Vissica's head rocked, letting a trace spray of saliva and blood follow in the fist's wake.

"That's how we say hello on Feriae, Imperial."

A burly Devaronian with a thick beard and tattooed forearms paced her. Vissica watched him prowl, her tongue slowly passing over her muzzle to clean up her split lip.

"My name's Jannek. And you must be Matatek Sel Vissica."

The Selonian's eyes now grew accustomed to the change in light. Her whiskers splayed slightly as her mouth slightly parted, revealing her dagger-like lower canine teeth. She drew a long breath, then spoke.

"The King's Regent has informed you well."

Jannek paused, considering denying the accusation. Why bother? His pointed ears flicked, and he smiled.

"It's good to have friends. On this world, I have a great many. Unfortunately for you, you do not."

The Selonian's silence was deafening. Jannek leaned close to one of her little ears, making a show of whispering just for her.

"You know, I could just kill you now, and no one would ever know."

Vissica's posture didn't shift, and she didn't bother to turn her head.

"If that was what you wanted, you would have killed me already."

"I want many things. I'm just saving the best for last." Jannek withdrew from his close contact, standing up fully once again. From a satchel, he retrieved a familiar-looking cylinder.

"This is a lightsaber, is it not?"

Vissica said nothing. Undaunted, the Devaronian continued.

"Not something many Imperials carry. Darth Vader did. The Inquisitors did also. It's also the weapon of the Empress's favorite pets, the Imperial Knights, isn't it?"

The Selonian's mute state remained unbroken. She glanced away with disinterest. Jannek laughed.

"You're just as arrogant and useless as the Jedi. Fine then. Say nothing. You think I can't break you? The force is your ally? With enough time, a river can cut through a mountain, Selonian."

Jannek grinned wickedly, revealing a mouth full of sharp teeth.

"You'll find I'm a patient man."

Vissica's tongue cleaned another swath of blood from her muzzle.

"Time is not a luxury you have."

[Abarai Loki]

"Not thinkin' of doin' something foolish now, hm?"

"What?" His eyes narrowed in confusion. "No."

The question took him by surprise, as did Shuvin's remark about him having, what she referred to as, a feeling of danger about him. Slowly, he lowered himself into his seat again, studying the curious girl across from him with intent. She saw much. Too much. Perhaps the Force was with her, too; hidden away, small, and quiet, whispering wisdom into her young mind. If not, then she was sharp enough to cut through him like butter. Either way, there was no point in hiding behind lies, she would only sniff him out.

"I just don't like the Empire," he confessed, after a cursory glance to their occupied neighbours, "Wherever they go, suffering follows. And I was merely concerned for the well-being of your captain. And yours."

Promptly, he took refuge behind his cup of stimcaf. Ok, so it wasn't a good time for flirting, but nor was it the worst.

[Shuvin Undhi]

She smiled widely, though only with a slight gleam of teeth.

"Thinkin' we're the ones ta get you off this rock, and that'll be hard doin' if we're dead or imprisoned?" she asked. "Don't know if it's Cap'n Ben with a good luck charm, but things..."

She stopped for moment, rethinking her words. Her smile faded as a memory of a burning town only slowly allowed itself to be pushed aside. The next memory was of adorable Marron Lighever and an Imperial medical droid.

"Things tend to work out, with us," she finished anyway, still smiling, though the expression was a ghost of its former self. She turned off the comlink and made to stand. "Well, no point in squanderin' your goodwill. Let's go give her a look over and see if someone's done something to Alderaan​, hey?"

[Abarai Loki]

The pause did not go unnoticed. Not that it told him much, though; things not always working out was normal for just about anyone. But the look on Shuvin's face spoke of much more than merely being late for a shuttle and getting caught in the rain. There was real tragedy in her past.

She brightened, however, and Loki was not one to pry into people's personal affairs. Instead, he simply rose, and followed her out of the tea shop. And, from the moment he found himself back in the spaceport proper, he was on alert. The Empire had come to Junction, and with intent. He recalled Shuvin's words, and closed in to speak in an undertone.

"So... have you and the captain previously experienced..." he glanced around, while he chose his words, "...Imperial entanglements?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Oho," she said, swaying her hips and giving Loki a coy smile. "Curious, hm?"

She fixed him with a half-lidded gaze and closed the distance, her arms going around his left and holding it to her body. The Protectors standing off to the side watched with little grins and raised eyebrows, and one even slipped Loki a surreptitious thumbs up.

"Not the best place to be furtively whispering in someone's ear unless people can make a safe guess as to what's bein' said, Mister Loki," she breathed. "But you're an earnest sort, aintcha? Whisperin' isn't something that I'd guess comes natural to you."

They entered the Star port and Shuvin released Loki's arm while they hooked a turn to the landing pads, walking down past thick crowds of annoyed travelers and groups of Protectors blocking their way.

"How long of a delay is this? We have business to do!"

"You're welcome to make a go of it, but I hear there's an Imperial Star Destroyer orbiting. Good luck making it past that."

"Halt," the Protector said. Shuvin smiled brightly.

"Hey there mister protector man," she replied. The Protector huffed a laugh and nodded. "M'name's Shuvin Undhi, second on freighter Alderaan. This handsome man next to me is a bit of hired help for a fix-up I need doin'."

"Undhi... well, your name passes, but I have to warn you, any attempt to leave the planet or even lift off while the port is under lock down will result —"

"Listen here," Shuvin butted in, "now you might be just as tired of sayin' that as I am of hearin' it. Sides, have you tried liftin' off with an asymmetric repulsor field? Damn thing tilts hard and good luck gettin' anywhere you want when you have ta keep hard left just ta go straight forward in atmosphere."

The Protector whistled in commiseration. "Asymmetric repulsor fields aren't a joke. Happened to my wife's cousin in law. Nearly took down a landing pad wall."

Shuvin nodded seriously. "I know, right? Thing is, it's an easy fix, you just have to modulate the power flow to the diverters until you find the problem or it fixes itself."

"Really?" the Protector leaned to the side. "That's it?"

"Well, sometimes it's just a question of irregular power flow, which a modulation can fix pretty easy on its own, but this time I'm thinking —"

The Protector stood up straight and shook his head, glancing down the line where an obvious higher up appeared, speaking to an irate spacer.

"Go on through," the Protector murmured. "Just don't try to fly, and everything should be fine."

Shuvin winked.

"Would you get in trouble if I gave you a kiss on the cheek?" she asked. The Protector laughed.

"Cheeky little girl. I already said I have a wife."

Shuvin grinned and shrugged before slipping by the man and leading Loki down past the eerily silent landing pads until they stopped in front of Alderaan.

"Well, here it is," she said, keying in the unlock code and opening the entry ramp. "Home sweet home."

[Ben Merasska]

"We can't be too careful, Mr Merasska," the Rebel said, as blinders were fixed over his eyes and his hands were bound once more. "Just know that we honor those who've done their part. You've done us a great service. We won't trample on that."

Well, Ben mused to himself as he was led out of the room, wasn't that peachy?

The blinders weren't taken off until he'd stopped for a good thirty seconds. This time he was in a nicer room, with open windows to an enclosed courtyard; he could see cells across the way. The opposite wall was thick and offered no clues as to where he was. His escorts handed him his blaster and jacket, along with the other detritus he'd kept in his pockets: his deactivated comlink, a small wad of paper flimsi with smudged writing, three credit chits worth seventy-five, and even the crumpled candy wrapper he kept forgetting to throw away. They returned his bemused look with opaque ones before exiting the room and he guessed the building.

For all he knew, he was completely alone.

The room held a low table in its middle, with carafes of what he assumed were stimcaf and tea and water, with small tumblers to drink from. A holoprojector sat by the refreshments, along with periodicals and datapads for reading on the divans that surrounded it.

"Well," Ben sighed, sitting down on a divan and leaning back. "Guess I'm waiting, then."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica had not lied. Time was a luxury beyond Jannek's grasp. That also meant that time was precious for her as well. The Selonian paced her cramped cell, wondering how long she could allow herself to be held prisoner by these partisans. Soon her ships would notice the absence of her check-in, and they would bring swift imperial might down upon the location of her homing beacon. By capturing her, these insurgents had all but sealed their fates.

A bit of movement in the window caught the Selonian's eyes. She shuffled towards the aperture, growling at the unnatural strain her arms had been put in to lock her wrists in stun cuffs behind her back.

There. In a window beyond. A face looking back at her. One that seemed familiar.

"Captain Merasska?"

[Abarai Loki]

For someone like Loki, being with someone as... unpredictable as Shuvin, was a little exhausting. In one moment, she'd be so close, it was like electricity down his spine, and, in the next, she was making advances on married men, flitting from character to character with the fluency of a street performer. Amongst all the whispers, and the looks, and the stories, and the smiles, it was difficult to determine what was false and what was real. An unwelcome thought made his heart sink: perhaps it was all false. Though, to what end, he asked himself. His thoughts took shape in the form of a confused wrinkle on the bridge of his nose, but had no time to gravitate down towards the mouth, for Shuvin had just presented him with her pride and joy.

"Alderaan," he said, struggling to shift gears, "You were right. I have not seen a ship like this before."

A cursory glance at the hull revealed nothing suspicious, but he didn't sound convinced, "Well, at least no-one forced their way inside..."

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin's back straightened and she puffed up in pride.

"Damn straight you haven't," she affirmed. "Alderaan is faster'n almost anything with a hyperdrive, tougher'n almost anything with shields, and can go longer'n most any frieghter save specialized ones."

She looked around, but other than the logged entry of one person triggering the welcome board, there was no sign of anyone coming near the ship.

"It took a long time to get her like this, too," Shuvin smiled and looked back at Loki. "I don't think I have to worry, but do me a favor and don't steal her, okay? I'm takin' a chance openin' her up like this without Cap'n Ben around. Unless he is?"

She stepped on board and looked around as the lighting flickered on.

"Ben?" she called. "You here?"

Silence answered her. She rested a hand on her hip.

"Guess not," she sighed. "Wonder where he went?"

She wandered past the cabins and into the ring corridor, looking around at the empty galley and small entertainment area.

"Huh."

[Ben Merasska]

It took Ben all of ten minutes before he got up and started walking around out of sheer boredom, but he soon got tired of wearing a hole in the floor of the room, and tried the door to the courtyard. The door opened quietly and he stepped outside and sighed in relief to be able to hear something other than his own thoughts.

He could barely hear the sounds of anything aside from the wind or birdsong; there wasn't anything telling him how busy this base was or where it was situated.

One of the cells 'tinged', the sound of something tapping on the doors getting his attention.

Not having anything else to do, he walked closer, feeling a bit sympathetic to whomever these Rebels had captured.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

It was him. As the man approached, there was no denying he bore an exact likeness to the info screen on the Alderaan. The Selonian prisoner watched his approach with curiosity masked in her alien facial expressions.

"Captain Merasska of the Alderaan." said declaratively, without a questioning inflection. Vissica leaned close enough to the ray shield to cause her whiskers to splay in static discord.

"What are you doing in this place?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki followed Shuvin out of courtesy, drinking in his surroundings with large curious eyes. It was brighter than he expected; ships of a similar size had a tendency to be gloomy inside, furnished with a network of lights that made it possible to live onboard, but not pleasant. Where the ring corridor branched off, he turned on the spot, to familiarise himself with his surroundings. From his shoulder hung is rucksack, and in his right hand he carried his battered tool box; that he navigated the ship without bumping into everything was a small miracle. Or maybe not, he considered, with a frown that looked impressed.

"Your ship is spacious," his voice sounded deeper against the heavy silence, and intrusive. Suddenly, he found himself thinking of Shuvin's beloved Cap'n Ben, and how he would react to discovering a stranger wandering around his home. "You mentioned a... Cerie, before? Is he around?"

He dared a glance into galley, bracing himself for a new face.

[Ben Merasska]

"Huh," Ben hummed to himself. "Looks like you're in a bit of a pickle there, aintcha?"

"Captain Merasska of the Alderaan," the Selonian said, leaning in close against the ray shielding. At this distance, the opaque barrier wasn't as hidden, though there was still a barred door in the way. Ben frowned, the hair on the back of his neck rising. "What are you doing in this place?"

"Now that's a personal matter," he answered, something in him wanting to run. "I'm curious as to how you know me? I don't remember transporting any Selonians on board. And it's just Alderaan, by the by. No need for a 'the'."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"I do not know you." The Selonian replied to the query with an almost sedate rumble, brushing the ray shielding with her sliding tail.

"I saw your ship parked in the star port. Your name and likeness displayed at the hatch. I make it my business to remember."

Vissica slowly blinked in punctuation to her laconic conversation, the milky nictating membranes of her almond-shaped eyes briefly visible before fully opening again.

"You are in danger."

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Cerie's a she," Shuvin giggled a bit at the thought of a male Cerie. There probably wouldn't be that much of difference, to be honest. "She came aboard a while back after we had an indirect hand in..."

Shuvin stopped, her brow creasing in thought.

"Wait. Did she have her own ship? Or did the zombies just wreck enough of the port she didn't want to go back?"

She thought a bit longer, going to the cooler and digging inside for a drink, wiggling her hips and shifting on her feet in a physical tic she sported when she was deep in thought. She grabbed a can of Woobles, a lightly sweetened and carbonated milk.

"...anyway, Cerie's practically family here, but she often enough does her own thing. Which is what she's doing right now. Somethin' tells me it's a bit on the mischievous side, because she was tight-lipped about it before she left. Wonder what she's doing?"

[Cerie Moreau]

* * *

There were some things that transcended all. Some things that were above whatever galactic conflicts were happening at the time. Things as simple as a smile, to more complicated acts such as celebrating Life Day. And nestled in the very middle of that spectrum was a certain time of the year that a large portion of civilized planets looked forward to with particular zeal. Nothing so banal as the Rodian-Gran Lottery; no, that bit of insanity was something else entirely. But that special time of the year that was as important as any holiday had begun a day previous. A week prior, the whispering could be heard all through the holonet. It spun along those lines like excited fire, slowly growing in intensity before bursting into an inferno of need on that first glorious day.

It was the time of year that the Space Scouts were selling their cookies.

The selection was always the same, but each one was at least two bites worth of delicious addiction turned into pure culinary delight. Brightly frosted Zeltrons, Stowaways, Slim-mints, Boska-Pateesa's, Hyperlanes, and Blaster Bolts. Each one was coveted, and it wasn't unheard of for one person to purchase more than one box of each.

Here on Junction, the supply was just as plentiful. After all, Space Scouts were all over the galaxy.

Cerie had practically sprinted down the boarding ramp as soon as Alderaan had landed, though she'd been mindful enough to prepare beforehand during the trip through hyperspace. She figured that she might get a small amount of preferential treatment if she donned her old disguise, and the blonde had swiftly gone through the motions that were as normal as breathing. White contact in her right eye, a scar applied with the latest in makeup prosthetics to bisect the 'dead' eye, and clothes that were obvious, but not too obvious. Impersonating an Alliance officer coming from a non-descript freighter had to be done carefully. So, old tan-colored fatigues and well-worn desert ware were the order of the day.

She'd given no word of farewell when she'd left; a singular need drove her.


She had found the table, set up like it always was. Like every single one across the galaxy was. Boxes in bold colors were lined up for display, and behind sat two youngsters in their blue and gold uniforms. It'd taken a full five minutes before she reached the head of the line, and her smile was wide as she stepped forward, credit chit in hand. Another few minutes of haggling followed, of trying to purchase four boxes of each. She was passing through, and wanted to get Space Scout cookies for the Jedi Padawans back on Ossus, since no one there was a Space Scout. The two behind the table were more than willing to help those poor Jedi who'd never experienced their wondrous desserts, and nodded emphatically while grabbing a wad of plastic bags. Each bag was stuffed, and in the end, Cerie had 50 credits left in her account and four nearly-overfull bags of Space Scout cookies.

She thanked the children profusely, with words of encouragement, and as she turned to begin the trek back to Alderaan, the blonde could already almost taste a Slim-mint.

[Abarai Loki]

"...anyway, Cerie's practically family here, but she often enough does her own thing. Which is what she's doing right now. Somethin' tells me it's a bit on the mischievous side, because she was tight-lipped about it before she left. Wonder what she's doing?"

"Probably looking for more zombies to fight."

The words rolled off his tongue, drier than a sandsnake's back. He wasn't looking at Shuvin, nor did he want to; lies were to be used as survival tools, but Shuvin dispensed them like candy that only she could eat. He would not be made a fool of for her own amusement. And if she didn't want to tell him the truth, then there were ways of keeping it from him that didn't insult his intelligence. So, instead of feeding her with attention, he studied the table, which was fit for at least eight people, and the curious colourful markings on it.

But, despite his best efforts, moving from corner to corner of the room, searching for distraction in the cooking apparatus and the holofilm collection, Loki could not be pulled away from the feeling that something wasn't right. Idiots would call it instinct, but it wasn't something of fiction or fantasy, like gut-feelings or women's intuition, there was something truly tangible to the way he felt, like there was a stranger by his side, warning him, just out of reach. Maybe it was all this Cerie business that had him unnerved. Did she even exist? Perhaps she was just another contribution to the pile of falsehoods appearing on his sceptical plate.

"We should check the rest of the ship," he suggested, before Shuvin could become too comfortable, "Search for evidence of sabotage, or surveillance equipment, or even a tracking beacon. We should not become complacent where Imperials are involved. You should try contacting the captain, again."

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Now you're soundin' less than comfy," Shuvin said, looking at him over the rim of her Woobles can. "I can tell when someone's entered and locked the ramp behind 'em. There's a little thingy next to the ramp as you walk up."

She drank, noting the way he kept his back to her. Maybe Ben was right? She didn't have the best instincts when it came to people, just doing whatever popped into her head and seemed fun. Would this time be the one she really messed up on?

"If you're gonna kill me, make it quick, yeah? Last time it gave Ben an awful fright. Wouldn't want to do that again. He wouldn't let me out of my cabin until I pushed my way out to fix the cargo lift." She laughed. "Scar still itches from time to time. I know it don't really, that it's just somethin' my head's pullin' on me, but it's weird, y'know?"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki's face creased, a twitch of disbelief. His narrowed eyes crept sideways until they found Shuvin.

"I'm... not going to kill you." He gave an almost imperceptible shake of the head. "And I think you know that. People who think they're about to die don't talk the way you do."

This strange new tangent was as unexpected as the last. Loki turned to consider her fully. There were two potential scenarios: either she was being sincere, or she was not. If it was another pretence, then Shuvin was either a compulsive liar, or she was hiding something; if she sincerely thought he was about to murder her, then she was a troubled girl. Then again, it would explain the erratic conversation, the elaborate tales, and the flip-flopping flirtations. It was beginning to make sense.

"If you are confident that nothing has been done to your ship," he said, getting back to business, "Then I strongly suggest attempting to contact your captain, again. He may be in danger for all we know."

[Ben Merasska]

"You are in danger."

"When ain't I, sister?" Ben grumbled to himself. He narrowed his eyes. "You sayin' these here fine upstanding people don't have the best intentions when it comes to me? I'd disbelieve you but I generally like to listen to common sense when I hear it. Thing is, your statement is just helpful enough to not be at all."

He scratched his cheek.

"Who are you, and how exacty how am I in danger?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

"That's good to hear. I got scared a bit what with you soundin' all tight and not lookin' at me," Shuvin said. "You still got all this tenseness about you though. You got a bad feeling creepin' on you? Like somethin's about to happen, you know it, but can't stop it?"

Like fire out of a clear, blue sky, raining death on a small town.

[Abarai Loki]

"I don't know. Maybe."

The words spilled out in an irritable surge. It was about as honest a confession he could manage. He didn't like to talk about his feelings, and here was this strange Togrutan girl who was able to read him like a book. That didn't help. In fact, it made him feel downright uncomfortable. He knew he had to tell her, but first, he had to fight off an overwhelming urge to start pacing the floor.

"You're not helping, you know." He cast a hand in her direction, as if by pointing out the sum of her parts, his complaints would be made clear. The look he received suggested otherwise, so he took a breath, and elaborated, "Well... with your stories and your... behaviour. I saw how you were with that old guard."

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Well, I'm not surprised," Shuvin said drily, a smile on her face. He was jealous? This boy was too cute for words! "You were standing right there, after all. I'd be worried if you didn't see it."

Loki didn't seem too amused by this; just another way she supposed Ben was different from a lot of people: humor always seemed to cut through his tension and calm him down some. He just gave her this blankly unamused look.

"I'm not going to defend myself," she said, though there wasn't any bite in her words. "Don't need to. If you were thinkin' that I should reserve all of my goodwill to you just because you're one of the cutest things I ever seen, then the problem's with you, not me. But I won't hold it all against you, cause stars know I'd have a hard time believin' it if I haven't lived through the stories myself."

She pulled out the communicator, and flicked it on, pressing a button and showing Loki a red light blinking on it.

"Ben's deactivated his comm link," she explained. "If it were on and he weren't answering, the signal would connect but wouldn't resolve. It's not connecting. I'd be worried if he simply weren't answerin', but there's plenty of situations where commlinks are deactivated. Too easy to use 'em to catch naughty people doin' naughty things, so in a lot of cases they'd be turned off and stowed away until things are settled."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Captain Merasska was distrustful. To Lady Vissica, this seemed to be the default setting of all humans. When a species wove so many lies in such a cavalier way, it made sense from a survival standpoint to reject anything you couldn't see or feel. The Selonian therefore didn't take Ben's skepticism as a slight. It was simply the manifestation of his race's shortcomings. The Knight passed her tongue gingerly along the contours of her swollen and split lower lip, tasting the iron of her own blood.

"My name is Matatek Sel Vissica. I am a Knight to the Throne of the Galactic Empire. You are in danger for the same reason that I am. This hidden base full of criminals, murderers, and terrorists of which you find yourself a guest will soon be attacked by the Empire with indiscriminate and overwhelming force.

More than enough to annihilate every rebel within, and every unfortunate bystander."

A rumble rattled in Vissica's throat as she upturned her chin slightly.

"You should return to your ship, and quickly."

[Rolth Wygraant]

The sky above Feriae city had filled with the disorienting presence of a great white durasteel underbelly of a hovering Imperial Star Destroyer. Other than making it's monolithic presence unavoidable in the sky over the star port, the star destroyer Decimator had taken no overt action against the city or the inhabitants below. It's bays of TIE fighters remained on alert, but had not been scrambled. The only action against the city below was to use an atmospheric loudspeaker to cast down it's ominous warning.

"Citizens of Feriae City, this is the Galactic Empire. In support of the decree of King Vashakhal, all entries to and departures from the city are suspended. Do not countermand the no fly order or you will be held to severe consequences. All grounded pilots prepare to submit your vessels to inspection by the King's Watch."

On the bridge of the Decimator, Captain Wygraant paced the command-level catwalk separating the fore-deck vista and the war table situated at the stern of the bridge.

"Are our ships in position?" He called to the crewmen below in the pits, fixing his attention on the technicians at the HoloNet decryption terminal.

"Yes sir. The Quaestor and the Rostrum report ready. They have programmed their navicomputers for hyperspace microjump, which will place them at ideal orbital position to begin the attack."

The Captain touched his chin in thought.

"Still no contact with Lady Vissica?"

"Nothing sir. Her beacon is still active, though it's impossible to determine anything else."

Wygraant let his hand fall to his side, then tucked it behind his back in a closed fist as he pivoted on a heel. As he did, he Commander Belgen approaching from the war table with a look of material insight on his face.

"News?"

"Perhaps. We're getting concurrent data feeds from the probe droids operating throughout the city."

"And?"

Belgen pursed his lips slightly, then gestured to the rear of the bridge. "Maybe you ought to see."


Moments later, the two officers were standing behind another technician's station as he flicked through footage transmitted by dozens of probe droids. One of the feeds enlarged, focused, and played a video on repeat.

"Loklorien s'Ilancy." Wygraant's eyes brightened, a smirk creasing his expression.

"I'm afraid we don't have a better look than this, but it certainly appears to be her."

It wasn't much, really. Just a looping video of a woman with blonde hair and a prominent facial scar hauling parcels of some kind in the city star port.

"Oh, that's her alright." Wygraant nodded. "Hard to forget a face like that."

"Lady Vissica will need to be updated on this turn of events."

"Yes, but unfortunately she is incommunicado presently. I doubt she'd want a prize like this to slip the net while we wring our hands over asking permission. Signal Rostrum and Quaestor. Inform them to begin their attack on Lady Vissica's transponder coordinates."

Belgen shifted in his boots uneasily, a grimace on his face. "Of course, sir, but the order seems..."

"...suicidal?" Wygraant finished the thought for his executive officer, and Belgen nodded. "Yes, I suppose it would. I would guess that Lady Vissica considers herself either expendable to the cause, or too tough of a nut to crack on mere happenstance. If there's anything I know about the force, it's that it tends to keep those who can feel it alive against all odds."

[Abarai Loki]

Liking and hating something at the same time seemed impossible; it was a flight of fancy, a paradox; the meanderings of a poet's drunken pen, and a contradiction that had no place in the real world. And yet, when Shuvin referred to him as one of the cutest things she'd ever seen, that was exactly how Loki felt. In an instant, his face was cemented into place, for fear of the kind of treachery that could slip through the cracks.

Inside the short-lived silence, the sound of the booming voice from above echoed down the hall; even the privacy of the indoors was no safe harbour from the Empire. It served as a stark reminder that the sky above was grey and hard and deadly. Shuvin had produced the comm link again and put his mind at ease in more ways than one. He listened to her speak, glad for her to take the charge, while he lingered on her words - the ones about not reserving her affection for him.

That wasn't what he'd meant. She'd completely misunderstood. What he meant was... what he'd implied...

He slumped into a chair, with his tool box and his rucksack clattering to either side of him. Defeat was conceded with a sigh.

"So, while Ben is off doing his... naughty things, you stay at home? That's interesting. You don't strike me as the domesticated sort."

[Ben Merasska]

Ben stepped back, his brows furrowed in confusion.

"Now, maybe I shoudn't be confused, since you aren't the first Imperial Knight to do me kindness. Did Palara tell you about me or something?"

He paused, suddenly aware of how things had gone completely quiet, save for deep throbbing rumble in the air. He looked up, feeling a terror building in his bones and spiking out into himself. The sky held no answers, and he looked back into the dark opaque eyes of the Imperial Knight.

"It's too late, isn't it?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The mention of Palara from Captain Merasska caused the Selonian's array of whiskers to quiver slightly. A small betrayal of surprise that the human may not have recognized in the face of an alien, but reflected Vissica's piqued curiosity. It wouldn't do to attempt to satisfy it. Not here. Not when the threat was so salient.

It's too late, isn't it?

The Selonian's gaze likewise turned to the sky, or what limited slice of it her cell afforded her from beyond the ray shield. The answer wouldn't come with her eyes. Not yet. But as surely as she could feel her own heartbeat, she felt the storm coming.

"The future is always moving, Captain. Now go."

Vissica took two steps back from the ray shield, then stooped her hind legs to drop to her haunches. The Selonian approximated a kneeling state of meditative repose, a somewhat arduous task considering her cuffed forepaws.

"If the force wills it, we will meet again."

Her eyes slowly closed, leaving the Selonian's expression oddly serene as an air siren atop a tower at the base began to spin into a scream. Red klaxons activated along the walls, slowly rotating ominous color over the brick edifice as a crush of sentients poured from the doors of a makeshift barracks.

"Destroyers spotted! Destroyers! Inbound directly for us!"

An Aqualish brushed past Ben with a heavy shoulder as he slid a helmet atop his bulbous head.

"Hurry! Get to your ships!"

Across the way, what appeared to be a livestock pavilion slowly rolled up a dozen wide corrugated metal doors, revealing nearly three dozen snub fighters of varying makes. ARC-170's, Y-Wings, and Z-95 headhunters began to taxi ahead. Behind those, a row of Mandalorian M3-A interceptors were frantically getting their fuel cells topped.

The serene skies Ben and Vissica had glimpsed minutes before were now invaded. Triangular white hulls broke the blue sky, growing larger by the second.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Well most of the time I —" Shuvin stopped. Sirens were wailing, dimly heard through the hull of the ship. "What?"

She turned to look at Loki, who mirrored her expression of confusion and surprise, with an added sense of grim realization.

"Oh no," she breathed, and sprinted through the galley and down to the aft end of the ring corridor. She smacked a control, and a door opened, revealing a lift. She stepped inside, followed by Loki, and they ascended to the dorsal hatch. She stepped out and onto the hull of Alderaan, her eyes wide and her mouth open.

The hulk of the star destroyer above was a massive silhouetted dagger; it pointed to the horizon like an arrow, the dying sunlight painting its bow like blood. Her eyes followed it down its length.

Two star destroyers dominated the skies in the distance, the black specks of TIEs spilling out noticeably like a cloud of flies.

[Cerie Moreau]

There were varying levels of panic that had begun at the first thunderous word that filled the air all around. Some people froze in their tracks, eyes going up to stare at the behemoth above. Others fell into mindless motion, scrambling to find places to hide. There were shrieks and cries of worry, and while Cerie was not about to stop and gawk, she wasn't about to burst into a frenzied run. She had to be quick though, and the blonde darted her way through the bodies around her. Some as statues, others as scurrying insects dashing every which way. Her intent to make her way back to Alderaan was just as focused as her intent to keep her bags from spilling their contents.

A Squib ducked by, chittering madly as he went, followed closely by a Rodian that looked as though he was fleeing for his life.

Stepping from the pedway, Cerie half-jogged out into the road. It was mostly empty, and glancing up, the blonde felt her heart skip a beat. There was the one Star Destroyer over, and farther in the distance...

Her stomach dropped then, as the growing scream of snubfighters cut through the tide of vocal panic all around her. Everything was reaching the point of boiling over, but still she remained doggedly determined. Legs propelling her forward, she threaded her way through the increasing insanity.

She was grimly determined to make it back to Alderaan with her cookies.

[Abarai Loki]

In his distraction, Loki almost stumbled over an outcropping section of Alderaan's hull. He found his footing beside Shuvin, and stared skywards. The grey belly of the Star Destroyer stretched in all directions, like a ceiling over the city, and it tapered off, in the way that all Star Destroyer's do, into a knife's edge. Beyond, a pierced and blushing sky, a sombre horizon, and the bone white glare of Imperial ships blazing in the dying embers of the sun. Loki took a breath, and remained still, allowing the adrenaline to bleed into his muscles until they ached with electricity. A hot wind roared, rolling in waves over the city, and across the expanse, it carried the haunting wail of klaxons.

The fear was in Shuvin's eyes now, blossoming half-formed, like a rose in autumn's chill. And behind those eyes, a terrible thought took shape; it did not take a Jedi to read her mind.

"Ben?"

[Ben Merasska]

He almost did as she said, and for the briefest moment, he could see the end. If he just walked away, he would find Shuvin, and Cerie, and get off this planet alive. But then he remembered why he was standing there in the first place, and though the fear and tension still remained, he firmed himself.

"Not until I get what's mine," he said, and turned around, leaving the Selonian Imperial Knight in her cell.

He had experience with Knights, and knew she wouldn't remain there longer than she wanted.

He made his way back into the waiting room and picked up his bag, and reached inside for his commlink.

"Ben? Ben, what's going on?"

"Shuvin. Where are you?" He asked, finding his way out of the 'prison'.

"I'm with Alderaan right now. Where are you?"

"I'll give you a couple guesses," he quipped. "Shuvin. Stay there. That's an order. I'll be along when I can. Until then, you keep Alderaan safe. Clear?"

Shuvin looked mutinous, but Ben didn't wait for her to reply. He cut the connection and stalked out into the chaotic mess of the hidden rebel base.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Lady Vissica's state of meditation lasted scarcely a minute before it was interrupted by the sound of boots clapping the tile floor, rapidly approaching. Serene as a statue in her kneeling pose, the Selonian's slow metered breath barely made a sound. The little ears perched atop her broad head flicked at the invasion of noise, but otherwise she didn't so much as lift a finger, even at the sound of her cell door opening with a squeal of rusted metal.

"Jannek." she spoke her captor's name, not needing the Devaronian to be so simple as to announce his presence. Vissica's dark eyes slowly opened.

"I don't know how you signaled your friends, Selonian, and I don't care. But you call them off now, or you die."

Behind her, Vissica could hear the sounds of priming blasters. With a grunt, she rose to her feet, turning to face the half dozen men who were to be her executioners.

"I told you that time was not a luxury that you possessed. You doomed yourself and your comrades the moment you brought me here."

Behind her back, Vissica tested the extent of her stun cuffs restraint, feeling the punitive pulse of electricity in response. Jannek approached, withdrawing a familiar weapon from his belt.

"I've never used one of these...lightsabers, but I imagine it's straightforward enough."

"It is a weapon. An extension of the wielder's will."

Jannek's grip on the greatsaber tightened in anger at the Selonian's obstinance. Vissica's eyes half-lidded.

"Much like your anger. Your simmering, impotent rage. Lashing out in its uselessness because you know it will not save you."

A nearly-inaudible click behind Vissica's back was covered by a rumble in the Selonian's chest. Her eyes opened fully.

"You and your men are going to die, Jannek."

The Devaronian sneered, sparking Vissica's greatsaber to life. The massive blade in his hands pierced into the floor, turning tile into ceramic slag where it met.

"Not before you, Selonian. Last chance."

The soldiers tightened their rifle buttstocks against their shoulders.

"I will not stop the attack. If you value your word, you must kill me."

As if to invite it, Vissica raised up her chin, giving her captor a clean pathway at her long neck. Jannek drew up the blade, put his full weight into controlling the blade into a slow and inexorable killing arc...

...and then the world exploded, sending every rebel in the room with it. Jannek and his troops were thrown against the far wall as if hit by falling ordnance. Dazed soldiers lost control of their weapons in a clatter across the floor. The first man to his feet startled as he turned to the blur of motion that was a fully-unshackled Selonian barreling towards him. Before he could reach his rifle, Vissica tucked into a roll, whipping the broad edge of her tail into a killing cudgel that smashed the man's head into the tile with a crunch. Springing back into a four-pawed stance, the Imperial Knight moved with seemingly liquid agility, contorting around errant shots as if she'd known their path ahead of time. The shooter dropped his weapon in a terrified wheeze, hands clawing against the skin of his neck to prize away an invisible death grip as his flailing boots kicked free from the ground. Two more blaster shots rang in, putting the strangled man out of his misery as his body was thrown into the killing fire before slamming against a far wall.

"Mother of moons! Open the door! Hurry! Hurry!"

"Force save us!!!"

Two guards had abandoned all pretense of their attempt to kill the Knight, and were banging on the durasteel door to get the attention of the warden of the brig. One man suddenly lost his footing, faceplanting to the tile as he slid backwards by unseen force. His scream cut short, and the remaining guard turned in horror to see why. Perched above him, Lady Vissica's bullet-shaped head and muscular neck shook left and right, ragdolling the guard by his throat until a cardinal arterial spray speckled the floors and walls alike.

The guard at the door fell against it, his hands held up plaintively. A webbed, broad-knuckled paw seized him by his throat, and the man was wrenched to his feet with a yelp, pinned against the door through which he'd tried to escape. Vissica stared at the terror-stricken guard, a lazy drip of blood spooling off the fur of her chin before being cleaned up with a tongue swipe. Her eyes then traveled just beyond the door frame to Jannek. The Devaronian stood still, trying to form words that didn't make sound. Clumsy hands reached up to the hilt of the greatsaber that pinned him into the wall, but lacked the strength to pull it free. Vissica obliged him, pulling the shaft of white plasma back in a quick motion. To Jannek's credit, he kept his feet. No doubt he had more pride than the man standing next to him.

Reunited with her weapon, Lady Vissica grasped the long cylinder with both paws, her grip tightening at it's knurled surfaces to the point that her calloused skin creaked. A pivot of her head returned her attention Jannek and the last guard.


Outside the cell, the brig warden pointed his pistol at the door. Too rooted by fear to approach and open. Too bound by duty to completely abandon his post. He was ready for something, but he didn't know what.

A sudden flash of white light caused him to flinch, and the warden gaped at the sight of a three meter smiling slice of molten tile and metal that suddenly scarred the cell ahead. The door's electronic lock deactivated with the aid of no one's hand, followed shortly by the rusty door throwing open.

Lady Vissica stepped over the two bisected bodies piled in the threshold, dragging her blade of terror along the ground behind her...

[Shuvin Undhi]

She stared at the commlink for a moment, before her hand drop and fixing her eyes on the distance, where the two Destroyers hung in the air.

Stay there.

She frowned.

"No way," she breathed after a long moment. "No way."

She turned, and saw Loki.

"I'm going," she said, as if expecting him to stand in her way. "I can't just sit here when he's out there."

[Abarai Loki]

When the small blue figure vanished, Loki waited. The moment stretched out, far into the distance, to a tiny speck of shadow, where the sky swarmed and flashed. Absently, his fingers teased at the disc of cool metal beneath his shirt; Captain Ben's words returned to him. In hiding his fear, did he think he could protect Shuvin from hers? His gaze crept sideways, and he studied the girl until she came back to him. And, when she did, he stepped onto the dorsal hatch.

"Can you pilot this ship?"

[Rolth Wygraant]

"Captain Orgern's gunship has departed for the surface."

Rolth glanced down into the crew pit, affirming the update from the flight technician with a nod.

"Stay in contact with him on the descent. I want a full report once he makes contact with Captain s'Ilancy."

Wygraant couldn't help but keep a grim face at the thought. He knew exactly what the former Jedi was capable of. It was highly probable that he'd sent Orgern to his death. Still, a swift surprise attack might...might win the day.

"Captain, receiving signal from Captain Garr on the Rostrum." The comms officer piped up with her commanding officer still standing directly above. "Visual sighted on the beacon coordinates. It appears to be centered within a large agricultural complex. A ranch, perhaps. Large, over a dozen structures. Wait..."

The comms officer pressed her headset to her ears, focusing on a screen readout.

"New signals! Reporting multiple flight launches, vectors aligning to intercept our ships. Count thirty ships, maybe more. Fighter class confirmed, multiple makes!"

Wygraant leaned slightly over the catwalk, gesturing with a black-gloved hand.

"That's them! Give the order for Rostrum and Quaestor to close distance and begin their attack immediately. Commscan!"

"Sir!"

"I want realtime telemetry at the war table now." Wygraant was already in motion, briskly walking to the rear of the bridge with Commander Belgen and Wing Commander Karnel in tow.

The 6'x3' holographic war table was already aglow, rendering holographic topography of the landscape as two blue-tinted star destroyers glided along above. At the other end of the table, the target site appeared in enemy red. So too did the small snub fighters being scrambled to the Rebels' defense. Captain Garr and Captain Helvet needed no micromanagment, they were already disgorging a screen of TIE fighters to deal with the desperation ploy.

"Turbolaser bombardment range in three...two...one..."

[Reikkel Orgern]

"Pilot! Do you have visual on the target?"

Captain Orgern stepped forward to opening of the Sienar Patrol Gunship's cockpit, gripping an overhead triangle clattering on a rail to prevent falling in the buffeting turbulence.

"I've got her. Dead ahead, just off the pedway."

The grey-helmeted gunship pilot clicked through his vocabulator, pointing out his faceted cockpit bubble with a gloved hand. The ground spun as they approached on descent, and at the center of the lazy circle was a speck that became a blonde-haired woman in a military jacket. Orgern buckled the chinstrap on his steeply-flanged Army-issue helmet.

"Fly over that intersection and steepen your descent! Cut her off!"

Orgern pivoted back towards the crew compartment, where a dozen heavily armed and armored Imperial Shocktroopers waited, their armor distinguished by a crimson accent stripe.

"Descent cables hook up!"

As one, each of the troopers snugged their rifles in a three point sling along their shoulder pauldrons, then pulled a cable spool from their belts, snapping them in to the overhead bracket. The cabin filled with a warm red light.

"Red light! Be ready!"

The gunship's throaty engines reverberated off the approaching ships and structures in the starport, and it didn't take long before every face below was turned up in their direction. As they continued to dip in controlled fall towards the surface, the lightly-armored gunship juddered, rattling every control surface on the way down. Suddenly, the light flicked from warm red to cool green, a second before double sliding doors peeled open to let in the fading sunlight outside.

"Green light! Deploy! Deploy! Deploy!"

Six at a time, shocktroopers jumped from the skids of the transport, thirty meters of freefall quickly slowing to a managable glide for the last two down, before each man detached his cable, slinging his weapon up to bear.

"Galactic Empire! Don't resist!"

[Rolth Wygraant]

"All batteries..."

Captain Trasiim Garr sounded from the fore of the bridge, standing at the best vantage point to witness the battle below. The swipe of a black-gloved thumb along his well-manicured mustache was more an unconscious habit rather than a need to reign in any straying whiskers.

"...fire."

The twin daggers of projected Imperial power cut loose at once. Across both the Quaestor and the Rostrum, gun emplacements along the ventral hull and the equatorial belt of each destroyer fixed their range, then loosed their terrible volley. Sheets of green fire rained down on the Rebel stronghold, initially repulsed by deflector screens. No doubt the rebels had shored their defenses, be they portable or the permanent kind.

Miles away, the sight was beautiful. Rhythmic flashes of thunder that bent light into a shimmering prismatic diffusion. The buzz of the occasional ARC-170 or Y-wing across their approach vector annoyed what might otherwise be a perfect display of destruction and spectacle.

Captain Garr watched the kaleidoscope unblinking, his thumb once again gliding over his lip.






* * *



"Casai, ssshhh...ssshhhh....it's just thunder. Rest, little one....it's okay....okay."

Nanti did her best to calm her wailing baby, bouncing the cub up and down gently as she pressed him to her chest. She whisper-hummed a Catharese lullaby in his ear, quiet enough to not disturb the other families huddled together in the windowless mud brick room. Nanti lied to herself as she waited for Casai to relent or tire himself quiet. He was hungry. He hadn't been fed since morning, and that was just what little powdered blue milk she'd been able to trade her own rations for. Casai was hungry, but Nanti was starving. Her normally ruddy, rounded cheeks had become hollow. There were shadows under her eyes. Where her homespun clothes weren't threadbare, they were beginning to hang off of her figure like feed sacks.

Casai's crying didn't wane, it increased. Nanti patted his short silky crop of black hair as she kept whispering to her son. She was lying to herself that he was only crying because he was hungry. She knew the sound of fear. Even Ibsi had stopped playing with the stick figure her father had whittled for her. She clutched the wooden man to her chest, miming Nanti's own maternal display as her big brown eyes looked up to the ceiling. The lighting in this hovel was utilitarian. Industrial bulbs caged in protective wire screen filled the cramped refugee quarters with spotty and cool light. Ibsi watched as the next peel of thunder came in, and a little trickle of dust unsettled from the ceiling, sifting through the light to make eerie chalky ghosts.

"Mama, when's Razzgo gon' take us forra star trip 'gain?"

Ibsi leaned halfway into her father's lap as she sniffed a runny nose that perpetually tried to invade her filthy face.

"Soon, firefly. He'll take us soon."

Casai's crying had petered into an exhausted grumble as he gripped the fraying neckline of his mother's tunic. Nanti took that moment to try and clean Ibsi's face, and turned to her life mate seated next to her on the floor against the wall.

"Right?"

Ryor looked at his mate with besieged eyes. It took all of his will to nod.

"Any day now, tooka. Any day."

It broke Nanti's heart to look at him. Her brave man. He'd carried so much burden for them from their village, to the camps, to the smuggler's hideaway on Cathar. On a half dozen tramp freighters and a half dozen worlds. All for a hope of something better. They hadn't had much at home, but he'd sold everything on a hope. And now? He was fighting to hold onto the little hope he could hold in his hands. Fighting to keep his growing despair from blowing it all away.

The sky rumbled again. Again. Again and again. Outside came shouts of men and the tromping of dozens of boots on the ground. Now someone else's cub cried, and the cycle of helpless, nervous waiting resumed it's slow onslaught on the souls of everyone trapped here. Eating at their insides. Hollowing them out. Ryor stood up, shuffling towards the door in his ratty shoes with blown-out soles.

"Razzgo? Razzgo!"

A familiar face caught Ryor's attention. He ran the last three paces to the door, slapping his hands against the metal to get the Bothan's attention.

"What's happening out there? My family, they're..."

The Bothan looked disheveled and unkempt. He didn't make eye contact with Ryor.

"Friend, just stay indoors okay? We'll let you know when it's safe to..."

"Safe??" Ryor's eyes flashed wild and desperate. He hooked his fingers through the door's speakeasy window. "Razzgo, I know what that sound is. You don't think I've heard that before back home?? Please, help us! I...I...I don't have any money left, I'm sorry. I'm sorry."

Ryor was shaking and he couldn't stop. Waning sunlight from outside caught a glint on something shiny and metallic, and the Cathar followed it down.

His wedding band.

It took no effort to pull it free, his fingers had thinned just like the rest of him. Ryor snatched it off and held the ring between index and thumb, pushing nearly his entire arm out of the window.

"Razzgo, please..."

He couldn't stop his hand from shaking. The offered ring danced in front of the Bothan, who backed away from it as if it were cursed. Razzgo shook his head. Shook his head and took off running.

"Razzgo!!"

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin looked up at the Star Destroyer still looming over the City.

"Not well enough to keep us from gettin' blasted to smithereens," Shuvin replied. "But we don't need the ship."

Her eyes were gleaming when she looked back at Loki, a mischievous smile pulling the corners of her mouth apart.

"We have something else."

Shuvin brought Loki down the dorsal hatch, and into one of the cargo bays. The lights burst on, and she walked over to a small but bulky cargo speeder parked in a corner.

Five minutes later, with Alderaan safely locked up, they were driving out of the star port and through the city.

[Rolth Wygraant]

Ryor fell against the door, clutching the last thing he owned and could offer up between both quaking hands. The shaking metastasized, running into his elbows, his shoulders, into his chest - where he pressed his ring to his heart as his face seized in a grimace that held the last line against becoming the prelude to a wail. He found the eyes of Nanti, who held him blameless with a look. But the despair Ryor had tried so hard to keep from his family was now over the wall, infecting everyone he loved. Even Ibsi.

"Ibsi..." Ryor whispered, beckoning the little girl to him. When she was within reach he swallowed her up in a hug, planting kisses over every inch of her face before burying her against him.

"What do we do?"

The thunder rolled. Louder, more frequent. The gaps of silence filled by the labored sounds of glowing power converters out in the distance struggling not to surrender their ghosts.

Ryor pushed a sheen of sweat off his forehead into his unwashed mane of hair.

"We're going to leave. Nanti, gather Casai. Tooka..."

He pulled his daughter back so that he could look her eye-to-eye.

"We're going on a trip today." Ryor smiled, remembering how to pretend. And whether it was genuine or for her father's sake, little Ibsi's eyes brightened.

"We are?"

"Oh yes. Get Mister Sticks. You're in charge of him. We're leaving."

Ibsi's mouth made a little 'o'.

"Is Razzgo coming?" she whispered. Ibsi liked her Bothan friend. She'd follow a Hutt if he'd show her the stars.

"No, not this time. This is a special trip."

The other families started to stir at this change. There were no secrets packed this close together.

"Where are you going?"

"What did Razzgo say?"

"Is there another ship??"

"How will you get out. The lasers, they're-"

Ryor ignored them. If they hadn't made this decision by now, they might never get the chance. He climbed to his feet, squaring himself in front of his daughter as Nanti stood behind the girl. Even little Casai was alert, the infant's eyes blue like his mother's.

"When I go out there, I want you to follow me, okay. You follow me and you don't look back. Don't look at anything, tooka. We stay together."

His eyes met Nanti's, and she seemed hauntingly serene. His life mate nodded.

"We stay together. Family." Nanti nodded, patting Ibsi on the head."

"Okay." Ryor drew a shaky breath in and out. What was the difference now between bravery, desperation, and hope? What did it matter? He turned, placed his hand on the door hinge.

"Okay, go!"

They threw open the door, letting the orange late day sun into the hovel as life mates and cubs took flight. Today it didn't matter if he was starving. It didn't matter if his shoes were falling to pieces, cutting the balls of his feet against sharp rocks. It. Did. Not. Matter. He ran as fast as his emaciated muscles would carry him. As fast as his burning lungs would afford. The sky overhead danced with the shimmer of a million colors in energetic violence as the shields gave up their last. Ryor could hear the final strain of the generators at their tipping point.

"Daddy! Daddy!" Ibsi couldn't help but be dazzled at the fireworks, and her eyes turned huge at the sky.

"Ibsi go!!!" Ryor wrenched her by the wrist, carrying her at the waist until she could find her feet again. Nanti was only a step behind, keeping at her life mate's heels as they weaved between scrambling partisan fighters going the other way. Then came a sound. An unnatural electric whine. A scream.

An explosion.

Faltering from his own advice, Ryor's pace slowed, and he glanced over his shoulder to see the compound's main shield generator immolate itself in a mushroom cloud. In the next heartbeat, the first undeterred turbolaser strike ran a grain silo clean through the middle, blowing sheet metal out in a fifty meter spray as the mass above toppled like a slain giant.

"RUN!!"

Where was he going? He didn't have a plan in any of this. All Ryor had was the last grain of hope to throw against anything and everything. A quick circuit around the main road showed a crushingly-empty hangar bay. No ships to be found.

The ground shook, throwing everyone to the dirt. Little Casai started screaming again, and there was no time to stop him. Ryor scrambled to his hands, turning back to see the remains of the refugee hovel igniting into plasma and fire. Fifty or so kinsmen, gone in an instant because of a choice. The old despair threatened to punch through adrenaline before Nanti shook her man hard by a shoulder.

"We keep moving!"

But where? Frantic eyes peeled left and right. There!

"A speeder! Go! Go!"

At best, it could carry them back to Feriae City. But Feriae City had a star port. A chance. Ryor bounded into the unoccupied driver's seat, thankful to all of his ancestors to find the activation crystal plugged into it's port. He primed the engines as Nanti helped Ibsi into the back, bottoming out the accelerator before they were secure in place. At this speed, he could barely make the turn, scraping paint against a feed trough before dumping the power plant once more in the straight-away. Up ahead was the road out. The road to freedom. Ryor gripped the yoke until his knuckles turned ashen. The speeder was nearly redlining, and the wind hurt his face as it whipped by in a hurricane-force chinook. Nanti clutched Casai against her chest, shielding the baby from the whipping air.

As Ryor looked toward the city, his heart sank. He didn't need to explain himself to Nanti. Perched above the capital that awaited them was another Star Destroyer.

There was no escape.

And still, Ryor didn't relent. He jammed the acclerator pedal with all of his weight, sending the speeder screaming across the road as it bisected green pastures.

"Ryor!"

He turned to his life mate, who's eyes had moved from the despair of the star destroyer. She followed a shape in the sky. Something approaching them with speed. He'd spent almost his entire life under the tyranny of the Empire. The sound of twin ion engines was that of a wraith that stole peaceful dreams.

Ryor didn't want to look at it anymore. Instead, he turned back in his seat, looking at Ibsi. His beautiful daughter, with eyes just like his. Casai. He hadn't even said his first word, but Ryor felt like he knew his son like no one in the galaxy could know a person. Nanti.

His life mate swallowed hard, the gale of passing wind drying tears before they could be cried. She reached the gentlest of hands to his own, cradling Ryor's broad knuckles over the yoke.

"Drive, my love. Where we go, we go together."

He stood on the pedal, ignoring the temperature gauge of the speeder. The engine began to shriek and whine as alert lights flickered the HUD. Ahead, Feriae City existed only in the way that myths and legends did. And damned if he ever was, Ryor still believed in them with all of his heart. He'd held onto the last of his hope this far.

The scream behind him grew deafening as the coolant cycler blew a geyser of smoke from the hood. It partially veiled the road ahead, just like a dream. He could close his eyes and see Feriae, and all the places they were going to see after that. Parsec by Parsec. Sector by Sector.

They were a family.

They


Would




All





Go






Together.




* * *



The TIE Bomber peeled out of it's run, gaining speed and altitude as the proton bomb impacted dead center of the road. It raced for the clouds once more to begin searching for yet another target of opportunity.

"Cutlass Eight to Actual. Enemy vehicle neutralized heading north by northeast. No survivors."

[Cerie Moreau]

* * *


"Galactic Empire! Don't resist!"

In that moment Cerie realized that out of all of her bad decisions, all of those unfortunate life choices she'd ever made, this moment in time was the absolute worst. Space Scout cookies demanded a high level of sacrifice to acquire at times, and the blonde had the sinking feeling that she'd just made the biggest mistake of her life in trying to use her normal disguise in the effort of getting more boxes than a normal individual otherwise could. But she'd done it all for the cookies.

And as she skidded to a sudden halt, staring wide-eyed at the stormtroopers now surrounding her, Cerie Moreau wasn't so sure that going all in for cookies was the best course of action she could've taken. In fact, chest heaving as she turned about, she came to the heart-sinking realization that it was the worst thing she'd ever done. Where was Ben? And where was Shuvin?

Even so, in the same instant, there was an overlapping of obviousness that accompanied the words shouted at her.

"Galactic Empire?!" Finally she rounded on the one who looked to be in charge, fixing him with as icy a stare as she could muster while tamping down the panic that set her heart into a frenzied, beating pace. She clutched her prized bags with tight fists, knuckles turning white.

"I woulda never guessed!"

[Abarai Loki]

Down empty streets, the speeder soared, unhindered by traffic and the crush of pedestrians. They swept past the market, where the stalls had been abandoned, full of leathers, and jewellery, and meats. Around a corner, the bulky cargo speeder lurched, scattering potted plants, and a basket of flowers that showered them in petals like the serenading of some runaway wedding. Despite the lashing wind, and the whining of overworked engines, the eerie stillness seemed to join them in the vehicle, silent with disapproval. And, with Shuvin at the wheel, there was little Loki could do, other than weather the unnatural silence and keep his eyes on the Star Destroyer looming above. That was until they turned the next corner:

"Shuvin!" he called, stiff in his seat. No doubt she'd also seen it, up ahead, in the middle of the road: a squad of armed stormtroopers, and an armoured transport hovering above them. There was no good that could come from an encounter with stormtroopers, and, fortunately, Loki had spotted a way out. He pointed, there was an alley breaking away from the road, it just wide enough. "There! Quickly!"

[Reikkel Orgern]

What was it with Rebels and their pithy little lines? Did they all just practice them in front of a mirror for moments like this?

"Captain s'Ilancy. Charming."

Orgern's eyes flicked to the trooper with the non-comm pauldron.

"Search her. She's likely armed."

A pair of troopers wrangled the bags of boxes free from s'Ilancy with a fair bit of protest.

[Cerie Moreau]

She fought them tooth and nail, making them pay for each box that was in the bags they wrestled from her hands, and in a moment of sudden, mad desperation, the blonde skipped back a half-step, putting at least the smallest of buffer zones between herself and the stormtroopers. Her arms lifted in a defensive pose as her entire body tensed. Hands out, fingers splayed, and her blue/white gaze shifted to those around her.

"Stay back, or I'll boil your brains in your helmets."

For as bad of a decision as she'd made, and for as bad of a situation that she was in now, Cerie would be damned if she was going to go quietly. They'd taken her cookies, and that was reason enough for a special sort of rage. She made sure that her eyes settled on the one leading the group, and like a whipsnake striking at its' prey, she reached one hand into her jacket, pulling a metal cylinder from a leather shoulder harness and holding it up as though it was a sword, ready to spring forth a deadly blade.

The stormtroopers each shifted back slightly at the sight of the lightsabre hilt, their blasters still raised.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Shuvin! There! Quickly!"

"Got it!" she called, her eyes on the Stormtroopers ahead. A couple turned, hearing the speeder roaring behind them, and she gasped. "Sorry Loki! Change of plans!"

She reached one arm into the leg space directly behind her seat, and pulled out a beaten looking blaster, and shoved it into Loki's arms, all without looking away from the ring of Stormtroopers.

Loki turned to look at her with a wide eyed look of almost panicked surprise, but his words were lost in the sudden increase in the speeder's engine sounding it would explode out of the chassis of the vehicle.

"Look out!" she shouted, and the Stormtroopers had the presence of mind to dive out of her way as she turned the controls and hit the brakes. The speeder skidded to a stop, its arc scattering more troopers and casting a cloud of rocks and dust over the remaining Imperials.

"Hey Cerie. Hop on. We gotta save Ben!"

[Reikkel Orgern]

"Hey! Look out!"

One of the trooper voiced barked out in it's homogenized vocabulator tone before nearly the full dozen had hit the deck to avoid the incoming reckless craft. The clatter of blastoid armor hitting the pavement barely registered over the throaty howl of the speeder engine. Captain Orgern similarly dove for safety, his eyes quickly making sense of the changing situation - and the two fresh faces added to the mix.

"Don't just lie about! Blast them!"

[Cerie Moreau]

The voice that reached her ears was wreathed in the wondrous feathering of angelic tones, and Cerie needed no other urging as the cargo speeder skidded to a halt nearly right in front of her. One of the stormtroopers had dropped a cookie bag, and she stooped low to scoop it up. Her feet dodged flailing hands intent on tripping her up, and the blonde took advantage of the confusion to - as she hopped past the Imperial in charge - deliver a booted toe to his cheek in the instant after he'd gotten out the word 'them'.

She dove over the speeder's side panel and into the back seat, landing in a tangle of limbs and curses. The 'lightsabre' was dropped in the floorboard as she scrabbled for something to hold on to.

"GO GO GO GO!!"

[Abarai Loki]

The sudden gear change made Loki's heart flutter. He took a breath to offset the feeling of falling, as he watched, powerless to stop himself from being thrust into the firing line of a dozen stormtroopers. They fell in unison, just before the back end of the speeder fishtailed over their heads, and scrambled out of its way. The pounding in his ears became a high-pitched whine, drowning out all else. And then...

Control.

He opened his eyes and let loose the first shot, intent on making a smoking hole in a plastoid breastplate, but instead of the sharp piercing bark of red death, the blaster made a deep springing sound, followed by a muted boom that drew to mind the sound of a mine being detonated underwater. The stormtrooper, and the one beside him, were both hit by a ripple of energy that struck them like a charging reek. They landed with a crunch, in a tangle of limbs.

Owl-eyed, Loki inspected the weapon, with its bulky housing and broad conical muzzle, with a newfound respect. On the periphery of his vision, he noticed the gleam of white armour, and he reacted immediately, leaning into his shot. The stormtrooper was lifted off his feet like an infant, and ragdolled against the wall behind him.

"Ha!" Loki blurted, with delight. The speeder was in motion again, and as they turned, he took cover behind his seat, squeezing off the occasional shot, and smirking at every crash and startled cry.

[Shuvin Undhi]

It didn't take long for the adrenaline to fade like the hovering dropship above the Stormtroopers along with Feriae itself; replaced with the tense understanding that they were heading in the wrong direction to completely relax from this, despite the usually calming feeling nature gave her.

The only sounds were the rumbling of the engine and the wind, and the deep thrumming of the Star Destroyers in the atmosphere, and the explosions and sounds of destruction that were getting louder. They began to crest a hill, and Shuvin kept her eyes on the top, refusing to look up or back, her hands gripping the steering column of the speeder almost too tightly. The incline lessened; they had reached the top.

And all three of them gaped at how utterly dominating the two Star Destroyers looked this much closer. She glanced over to Loki, and then back to Cerie, but she never stopped their forward motion. Ben would be asking why they were heading in the direction of the Destroyers when Alderaan was in the opposite direction; but he wasn't there, and that was the reason they were being so foolhardy in the first place.

And still the daggers loomed overhead, poised to strike a killing blow upon this planet, like many others before it.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The peels of distant thunder heard around the partisan base had finally rocked the inner sanctum. Direct turbolaser strikes were hitting throughout the compound with enough force to shake foundations. The emergency klaxons along every corridor bleated themselves into an opera of electronic wailing and discord. Motes of dust shook themselves loose from ceiling nooks and support beams, casting chalky spall into the red of warning strobes hanging along the wall.

"The Selonian's loose!" a partisan yelled to his comrades as he rounded a corner, breathless from sprinting. A dozen of his comrades were mustering from the opposite direction, their faces sheened with sweat and dirty.

"Who cares about the Selonian? The Empire's taken out the generator. We're all sitting ducks here!"

"We've got to get out while we've still got time. The transports are loading. If we don't leave now, they'll dust off without us."

"If we don't buy them time, the Knight will reach them before they take off. Somebody has to make it out!"

The partisans looked at each other, realizing that their options had all been reduced to one. A single desperate act. Another turbolaser shot snuffed out the lighting in the hallway as a power generator was obliterated. Seconds later, an emergency generator restored bare-bones lighting, casting eerie shadows down the corridor. An older human tightened his grasp on his rifle.

"We've hold this corridor. Give the transports any chance they can get."

A dozen younger faces looked up to the grizzled veteran, realizing that what he'd asked for was likely a death sentence. It was too much for one of the men, who turned tail to run in the direction of the transport staging area. The fact that the rest of the soldiers decided to hold the line was it's own small miracle. The veteran looked at the rest of the men and women who'd decided to share in his fate.

"It's flesh and blood, just like you and me. Focus your fire. Fall back under cover for reloading. I don't care what kind of powers an Imperial Knight has, but we'll bring it down and buy our friends the time they need. May the force be us."

Sounds began to echo down the corridor, their source obfuscated by a T intersection. The partisans took their positions around what cover they had, posting up against crates and cargo haulers. A faint noise could be heard. A lethargic hiss, growing closer.

"There." one of the partisans called out in an urgent whisper, wiping sweat from his brow as he pressed his cheek tight to the weld of his rifle's stock. In the uneven light, a figure in silhouette was cast against the wall. It created a long, lean shape, moving ahead with a forward lean and a slight stoop.

"There she is! Shoot her!"

Voices further down the hall called out, and two humanoid shadows painted the wall along the opposite side. The shadows dimmed as blaster fire barked and echoed through the duracrete walls. The tall shadow whipped like a reed in a storm, dancing through the gunfire. The lazy hiss became a growl as the opposing shadows pounced on her, a flash of light erasing the shadows but for a moment, only to dim as the silhouettes cast by the defenders fell away.

The hiss resumed, metered by the steady slap of bare footpads on bare duracrete floor.


Lady Vissica rounded the corner, dragging her heavy blade of white energy in her wake. The killing edge of the greatsaber scored the duracrete, gurgling and popping as it raked a channel of molten slag in the floor where it met. Sparks and spall occassionally pinged along the floor, each winking out as the scar dimmed from yellow, to orange, to red.

The partisan veteran's breath held in his throat, the holographic aimpoint of his rifle filled by the Selonian's chest as she exited cover. It was a clean shot, so why was he so uneasy?

"Open fire!!!"

The hallway came alive with the brilliant kinetic violence of concentrated blaster fire. Then, the impossible happened. The Selonian's white blade came alive, licking the floor as she sliced upwards into the opening shots. Center of mass bolts changed direction, splashing into duracrete as the hallway became a hailstorm of embers. Constraint was an illusion to the towering alien, and Vissica lashed into the fusilade with furious abandon, gashing and gouging walls, ceiling and floor alike as she swatted, recovered, and mercilessly advanced. Light bars above exploded in the wake of molten slices as the soldier next to the veteran fell with a smoking hole in his chest - courtesy of his own shot.

The firing continued at furious pace. At the eye of the hurricane, Lady Vissica focused her fury. The Dark Side was powerful, but it was ultimately a tool. A slave to her zeal, focus, and fanatical devotion. Every shot she returned, every dissolute enemy she hastened to their destiny, she advanced incrementally toward not only her goal, but to the fulfillment of her inviolate oath. What good was power without purpose?

Bounding under a spray of fire on all fours, Vissica closed the gap as her greatsaber shaved into the floor. The white blade shrieked as it flecked molten slag in advance of a wicked inverted-grip slice, biting fatally along it's broad edge into the belly of the nearest partisan. The Selonian bunched, hitching her shoulder as she wrenched the weapon clean, severing her victim in half only to use her momentum to fall into another.

All around her was fear. The cold of despair, second-guessing, and the feckless abandonment of hope. Vissica took it all in, her unblinking black eyes reflecting each shot, each face. Every ounce of their terror served to cement her hold over their fate, and the folly of their treason. Their line broke. She fell upon them unceasing, snatching back the slowest by a paw full of the hair on their head, only to drive her blade clean through them. With a growl, she kicked the still-twitching corpse off the length of her ever-burning lightsaber. Her now-liberated paw extended towards their awaiting exit. The duracrete buckled in a growing lattice of cracks, heralding the destruction that came a moment later as Vissica brought the ceiling down over the exit.

"There is no escape."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Shockwaves threw Orgern to the ground with enough force to squeeze the breath out of him. He took a few seconds to catch his breath in a greedy wheeze, before crawling over to the nearest trooper on the ground. A press of two fingers at the exposed bit of bodyglove-clad neck told him what he needed to know. Dead.

"Are you alright, sir?" One of the troopers stood over him, his body language cagey, even though his vocabulator-scrubbed voice was sterile of emotion.

"Fine. I'm fine!" Orgern stammered, red-faced at his rapid reversal of fortune. Drawing quickly to his feet, the Captain drew his comm stick from his belt.

"Orgern to Decimator. Extraction has failed. Target absconded, last seen on a small cargo utility speeder - headed west by southwest to grid three three six."

Reikkel stared off in the direction of the slowly-repopulating street through which the heroes had made their getaway.

"They may be attempting to flee the city. Can you visually acquire from your vantage?"

"Flight control to shore team, we have a visual match, currently on high speed vector along the western thoroughfare."

"Call in an airstrike!" Orgern tightened his grip on the comm stick.

"Negative, shore team. Fighter combat operations are not authorized within city airspace."

Damn, the Captain glowered, letting out a long sigh.

"If they're headed out of the city, that won't save them. Contact Rostrum and Quaestor. Inform them of potential incoming high value target. Live capture. And call in my gunship for extraction."

[Cerie Moreau]

The immediate concern of their survival coupled with making sure the single bag of cookies were secure occupied her immediate needs, and as Shuvin hurtled them down the main thoroughfare, Cerie held enough faith in the Togruta woman that she knew she could spend a few seconds to shove the bag under one of the back seats. Her hand reached under the back of the driver's seat then, pulling out the pair of Westar 34's that she and Shuvin had installed. At the time, the two had made a multitude of jokes about being the super-spy Reigan Sorn, and having a secret weapon inventor named Qek. It was all silly fun and rolled eyes then; now it was real life and necessary. Funny how that stuff happens.

Either way, the blonde pulled free the Westars while in the same motion popping up to drape herself over the passenger seat headrest. She gave a look to the... had Shuvin picked up a booty call???

She blinked, then sent her eyes to Shuvin as her voice raised above the angry rumble of engines.

"Were they havin' a sale at the Cheap Boy-For-A-Night Gettin'-Place or something?!"

[Abarai Loki]

"You!"

It wasn't until that moment, when the blonde stranger surfaced from behind him, that Loki realised they were no longer alone. Prior to then, he had been basking in the afterglow of an all-too-brief brush with death. His heart raced, and his senses sung, rejoicing at the flashes of colour, the roar of the speeder's engines, and the whipping of wind through his hair. His skin had tingled with electricity, and then, at the sudden unexpected appearance of Loklorien s'Ilancy, the electricity turned to gooseflesh. The surprise on his face transformed, crashing down into deep creases of irritation.

"What the hell are you doing here? Did- did you just call me cheap!?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin laughed gaily, her mouth opening and her eyes squinting from her effort to keep her eyes open while driving. She gave Loki a wide smile, sharing in the exhilaration of escaping sure death.

"The cheapest!" she called back. "Only a cup of tea and a conversation! Cerie, this scruffy-looking nerf-herder is Loki; Loki, this is Cerie! She puts the artist​ in con-artist!"

[Cerie Moreau]

Cerie was all smiles in the wake of her rescue by Shuvin and her new toy... Loki?

"Loki, huh?"

Her voice had risen to be heard over the sound of the wind whipping past, and the blonde let her body balance itself as Shuvin kept the throttle pushed into the floorboard. The crowds on both sides of the road were a blur, the sounds of their speeder's engine chopping loudly through the air as it hurtled them onward, but there was still no mistaking the sounds coming from overhead. She did her best to ignore the looming white dagger above, as well as the other two in the distance.

"Which line did she use this time? 'Let's Holoflix and chill'?"

[Abarai Loki]

"What? There was no line," Loki said, irritable with the nonsense. He got the impression the women were having fun at his expense, and found he had not the time nor the inclination to humour it. And the way they spoke about him, as if he had been caught, like some kind of prize trout - it made his skin crawl. The introductions were a waste of time, too: he knew who she was, and she knew him, even if she was acting strange about it. No doubt, her time as a Dark Lord's puppet had taken its toll, and the rot had taken root in her mind.

"Very well," he began, coolly, "You do not have to reveal to me your reasons for being here, but do not expect me to play along with this ridiculous charade..."

It was there, on the tip of his tongue: the name of the woman right before him. And yet, it was withheld. A thought occured to Loki, not a second earlier, when he actually considered the reason Loklorian s'Ilancy, a decorated officer of the Alliance, would be tagging along with Shuvin and her Captain Ben. She was on a mission, he realised. An undercover mission at that, and he had almost blown her cover, trampling all over her hard work like a rampaging rancor. What an absolute oaf he'd been.

"Ah. Cerie?" he said, feeling as sheepish as he no doubt looked, "You're Cerie. The Cerie. My apologies. I... had you confused with someone else for a moment. Pleased to meet you, of course."

With a tactful clearing of the throat, he turned back in his seat to face the swelling horizon.

[Rolth Wygraant]

The speeder continued to race ahead into the sunset. The vista of gradient sky bleeding salmon into red at the horizon was defiled by the monolithic presence of Imperial destroyers, and the howl of war that swarmed around them. Fighters screamed, accelerating and banking away, stitching hyphens of destructive energy like fireflies in the sky. Puffs of inky black airbursts muddied the twilight colors as ordnance from the partisan ships lashed desperately against the invaders.

"Captain Garr, the Quaestor is reporting deflector screen fluctuation. The enemy are concentrating their warheads."

The mustachioed Captain of the Rostrum glanced back to the crew pit at the source of the voice, then furtively glanced away in thought.

"Bring us about twenty degrees to port. Cover them from ground batteries. I want our anti starfighter batteries to focus on suppression!"

A flash in the viewport caught all eyes as the alert klaxon shrilled it's woeful WOOOO-UH!! WOOOO-UH!!. The starboard bridge deflector of the Quaestor ripped apart into a vivid mushroom cloud.

"Intensify batteries!!"

An ARC-170 ripped apart under concentrated fire, it's flaming fuselage pirouetting as its six ruined wings sheared in the air. The axe-headed nose of the heavy attack fighter plunged into the armored hull of the Quaestor, slipping beneath the armor belt just above the starboard array of heavy quad turbolasers. A rumbling explosion boiled along Quaestor's hull, unseating the row of main guns before they immolated one by one.

"Magazine breach! Magazine breech on the starboard main guns!"

What rotten timing! Captain Garr watched a gout of black smoke from Quaestor begin to stain the sky.

"Signal Captain Paullis to ascend to low orbit. Pull up!"

The severely-wounded star destroyer began to gain altitude with a groan, clearing Rostrum's path even as it belched flaming debris from it's wounds. Captain Garr turned back to the battlefield. He no longer fussed over his coiffed mustache. This battle was about to become far less polite.

"Wing command, I want these biting insects swatted. Colonel Kolvitz, prepare to land for surface attack."

"At once."

The angry mass of TIE fighters consolidated in the sky, abandoning their hunt for targets of opportunity on the ground. Focusing their full anger on the remaining partisan fighters, the defenders quickly began to run out of options. A desperate attempt by a pair of Scyk interceptors to punch an opening was met by concentrated fire, shredding into the light fighters that protected a pair of Y-wings. The heavier craft attempted to bank out of the swarm, but the nimble Imperial ships cut them to pieces, destroying one ship outright before sending another hurling back to earth in flames, where it splashed into the hull of a transport attempting to lift off. The colliding ships ripped apart in a boiling explosion, just as four sentinel class landers began their descent to the war zone.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"Get those guns in place! Move! Move! Move!"

Along the flat roof of the main ranch house, a half dozen partisans were hard at work. The moment the fighters had sighted in the Sentinel landers, they'd called them in to base. It gave a minute or two needed to reposition four E-web heavy repeating blasters from their more generalized vantage covering all corners of the ranch house to positions that could offer overlapping fields of enfilading fire. Salty veterans quickly ratcheted power cables to tripod guns, hooking them into portable power units. Already situated behind sandbags on the south side of the ranch's roof, a 1.4 FD P-Tower laser artillery turret was rapidly fixing it's trajectory on a distant diamond formation of white-hulled craft as they dropped from the Star Destroyer's belly.

"Range 2.6 kilometers and closing! Align to vector! Get those routers charged dammit!"

As the heavy towers below likewise fixed aim, the entire ground shook as the GR-75 transport parked on the makeshift tarmac 200 meters away ripped apart in a gout of flame.

"Mother of moons...the last transport..."

"Switch off, kid! Ain't a thing we can do for 'em."

"Lead ship now at two kilometers!"

A Pantoran with a headwrap and a big bushy white beard lowered his macrobinoculars from his eyes.

"Light 'em up! Fire! Fire!"

The focusing dish of the P-Tower flashed, dumping a full charge shot at the threshold of it's medium effective range. The lead Sentinel shuttle rocked in mid-air, it's shielding buckling as it picked up speed. Heavy blasts from below missed left and right as the e-webs began to furiously light the sky with thousands of rounds of blaster bolts.

"Flash! Flash!" The artillery technician called out as he crawled on his belly, watching the power readout on the cannon like a hawkbat. No sooner did he call a full charge then the weapon fired again - this time missing the lead shuttle by barely a meter. The repeaters weren't so unlucky, taking advantage of their rapid fire to trace killing power on target. White smoke wicked from the lead shuttle's fusilage as the next call of Flash! Flash! barked. The artillery didn't miss, burning off the shuttle's starboard wing as the craft went belly-up in a terminal dive.

"They're in the wire!"

The scream of a low-flying TIE bomber put every head down to the roof as a proton bomb hit one of the larger guns below. Clods of earth and duracrete sifted down on the freedom fighters, already returning to firing positions as the first of the remaining three shuttles drew up it's wings to land.

"Flash! Flash!

Before the gunner could mash down the trigger, a heavy whump sounded from the blast door behind. Another. Another. The crews looked back at the reinforced durasteel hatch as it deformed blow by blow. Without prompting, one of the E-web gunners turned his weapon around to face the unknown.

The Empire hadn't made landfall yet. That meant...

"I've got a bad feeling about this..." the gunner gulped, sighting in her weapon. At this range, it would hardly take any aiming to saw a threat in half.

Suddenly the door exploded off it's frame. The deformed slab of metal flipped end-over-end toward one unfortunate gunner just as he turned to face threat. He let loose a blood curdling scream before the impact, following the ruined door off the rooftop four stories to the ground below. The gunner with the foresight to aim at the battered door immediately belted out a stitch of rapid fire...all of it returning to sender after splashing against a broad white blade. She scarcely had time to scream before dozens of shots perforated into her body, the last of which hit her gun's power pack to cook off an explosion.

"Traverse back! Traverse hn-ghh-hhhgk!!" The artillery technician lifted off his feet, clutching at his throat until gravity resumed, sending him plunging off the roof to his death. With few options and all of them bad, the artillery gunner turned his dish cannon around on it's platform in time to catch sight of a Selonian giantess responding to a fellow rebel's attempt to surrender. Prone on the ground with open hands raised pleading above him - Lady Vissica cleaved through and past those begging arms, butchering without ceasing.

The artilleryman took panic breaths as his weapon completed the final few degrees in achingly-slow fashion. The Selonian rose up tall from her latest kill. She squared herself, lightsaber gripped by both hands. Squeezing his eyes shut, the gunner mashed down the plunger. The cannon's dish flashed, dumping power into a single heavy bolt that stopped cold against the lightsaber. The full force of the weapon returned to sender, blasting the heavy weapon and it's sandbag cover into oblivion.

Peering through the smoke, Lady Vissica approached the roof edge in time to see the last of three sentinel shuttles touching down. Their gangplanks hit the earth the moment their skids touched, disgorging three whole platoons of stormtroopers. A few other heavy guns stitched into the imperials at their vulnerable chokepoints, but the shock troops of the Empire were far from helpless. A well-placed rocket streaked from cover, turning a bell tower into matchsticks.

Taking a moment to survey the unfolding battle around her, Vissica leapt from the roof, landing below with liquid grace. She rolled her spine, advancing through treacherous terrain with few concerns of the danger. The few-and-far-between spears of enemy fire that tracked close enough to her were swatted away by her heavy blade as she crossed no-man's-land to the Imperial spearhead.

"Where is Colonel Kolvitz?"

"Dead, my Lady." A stormtrooper with a red pauldron regarded the Knight in between marking his own targets. "Shot down in the lead shuttle."

Vissica casually glanced in the direction of the lead ship's smoldering remains. Unfortunate.

"No matter. Continue the purge, Sergeant. I require communication with your ship."

The stormtrooper sergeant flagged down his platoon comms specialist, marked out by his backpack full of signal boosting equipment. The trooper ducked behind cover, passing a holodisc to the Selonian, who promptly entered her desired frequency.

"Captain Wygraant," the musteloid rumbled as facsimile of the human formed in blue light before her, "I have new orders for you. There is a Ghtroc 720 light freighter by the name Alderaan currently berthed at the Feriae City star port. Make certain the ship does not leave this place."

[Shuvin Undhi]

The speeder made good time, despite not being a model built for strength and durability rather than acceleration or speed. They left the city limits and pulled into countryside, using the two destroyers as their guiding points.

Shuvin knew they were getting close when the columns of smoke were visibly arcing towards the sky like dark sacrifices to the pitiless gods that were the destroyers. The mood in the speeder grew somber as they drew up to a crater in the road and the debris and smoking remains of another speeder off to the side. Shuvin hit the brakes hard, and tumbled out of the mule to sprint to the largest hulk of the vehicle left, but stopped halfway, gasping and gaping at the charred stump of an arm still gripping a stuffed toy.

She staggered past the grisly scene to the burning speeder, and glanced around. Mixed in with the speeder's debris were the pieces of people, furred if the smell underlying the cloying scent of burning fuel told her anything.

She took a step back, feeling numbly horrified; but also she was disgusted to learn that she was grateful as well.

She was grateful that none of the dead were Ben.

[Reikkel Orgern]

"Have you found them yet?"

Reikkel yelled over the sound of ion engine wash as the gunship picked up speed. Now they were beyond the city, and the boiling wound of the hidden partisan base could be seen smoking beneath the keel of the single star destroyer that stood vigil. The Captain frowned, wondering what had become of the second destroyer.

"Negative sir, I'm expanding our grid patrol now."

Buckling his chinstrap, Orgern returned his eyes to the quiltwork of meadows between them and the enemy base. It shouldn't be this difficult. Before the search could intensify, a beeping in the cockpit caught his attention. The gunship's copilot switched the comm control, speaking into a one-sided line in clipped dialogue. It didn't last long, and he pivoted in his seat to face the Captain.

"Sir, we're being diverted off our search. Our orders are to rendezvous with Lady Vissica at the drop zone."

Captain Orgern nodded, feeling somewhat ambivalent to hear the news of the Knight's confirmed survival. She was an extremely capable agent of the Empire, but he'd felt the lash of her displeasure before. Ruthlessness of Vissica's magnitude came at a price.

Five minutes later, the gunship circled an occupied square at the south of the ranch complex. The air thickened with stinking smoke, causing the Captain to partially cover his mouth with his sleeve. A trio of TIE strikers knifed overhead, their distinctive scream momentarily drowning out their own engines. As the ground slowly rose to meet them, Reikkel took note of at least one of the sources of stinking smoke. A pile of a dozen or so bodies had been laid in a heap, set alight by a flamethrower. As they touched down to land, the Captain watched a pair of stormtroopers drag a dead Bothan towards the pyre by his ankles. They gathered, then tossed the corpse upon the heap to feed the flames.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Picking through the dead like a carrion eater, the Selonian stalked among a row of sorted insurgent corpses. Their pockets had each been turned out, and the stormtroopers had meticulously searched each one for the slightest shred of useful intelligence. Midway through the row of the dead, Vissica spotted a tell-tale tuft of yellow human headfur. With care, the musteloid stooped down, grasping a handful of curly hair as she lifted the dead man's face off the ground for a closer look.

The human's death masque was frozen in a slack and grotesque expression, half-lidded milky eyes staring at nothing. Even with a smear of blood and shrapnel pocks in the cheek, Vissica could tell for certain that this man was not Captain Merasska. Her curiosity satisfied, the Selonian let go of the dead man's hair, letting his head hit the dirt again with a wet impact.

The force remained an inconclusive source on the matter, but Lady Vissica believed that her person of interest remained very much alive.

A growl of engines from above diverted the Selonian's attention, even as a pair of stormtroopers rushed across the distance. "Wounded man over here." she heard a vocabulator bark, paying the chatter no mind as the gunship's landing skids bumped the ground.

A shot behind her barked out and Vissica didn't so much as look in it's direction, keeping her eyes fixed on her ground commander.

"Captain Orgern." Vissica regarded him with a calm rumble. "You have missed the battle."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Reikkel kept his gloved hand beneath his nose, protecting his senses from the oppressive stink of burning bodies. Otherwise, he seemed unaffected by the masterpiece of wanton carnage before him.

Another wounded partisan was tended to by the stormtroopers beyond, who tidied their mess with a single blaster shot before turning out pockets.

"So I have." Orgern remarked, keeping his attentions from wandering further. "From the look of it, you have achieved a decisive victory, my Lady."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"I have butchered the body," Vissica countered in a diminishing tone, not so confident of the show of blood before her, "yet the head no-doubt still lives."

The Selonian bared her teeth but for a moment, rotating her torso nearly 180 degrees along her flexible spine to look behind her.

"Somewhere, there is a link. A link between this band and the leadership of this world. A link elsewhere, to the rebels' true patrons."

Vissica didn't need to air her suspicions to her subordinate. Every whisper of treachery the Empire uncovered held the possibility of being instigated at it's source by the Alliance of Free Planets. What they required was proof.

[Reikkel Orgern]

To that end, Orgern believed he could offer assistance. The Captain stood a bit taller, chin slightly upturned.

"About that, actually. We may have uncovered a smoking gun in Feriae city. We had a positive sighting of Loklorien s'Ilancy, the Alliance Captain we encountered at Manaan. We attempted to..."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Orgern had barely gotten the name out of his lips before a pair of massive hands hooked under his chest armor. In an instant, the Captain left his feet - raised to eye level with the Selonian in a full snarl of rage as she pinned him to the side of the gunship with a metallic thud.

"LOKLORIEN...S'ILANCY!!!"

Black lips peeled back, giving way to an array of sharp teeth mere inches from Orgern's face.

"WHERE IS SHE??!!"

[Reikkel Orgern]

The sudden shock of action surprised Captain Orgern in the midst of his report, and he soon found himself pinned between Vissica's rage and durasteel. She effortlessly manhandled him in his armor, pressing him against the gunship with such a high grip to cause the collar of the breastplate to press against his throat. His words turned to wheeze as he kicked jodhpurs and boots in the air in vain.

"Nng..ghaagk..on...a...gghhaach...she's on...aaa..."

His hands reached up to Vissica's trunk-like wrists, knowing the futility of even trying to break that hold. As red bloomed on his face he tried one last attempt to get his message through.

"...speeder...nghkhh..ggghuuuhh....headed....here!!"

The putrid steam of Selonian breath kept him focused...conscious...

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The howling wildfire of Selonian anger withdrew into it's constraints as a red and simmering coal once more. Vissica's wet snarl trailed into a growl, then finally a shaking exhaled breath as she blinked. Remembering her surroundings, her insurgent paws relaxed their asphyxiating pressure, easing the gasping Captain Orgern back to earth with extraordinary care, as if the Selonian was acting in a trance to keep her fury from destroying friend and foe alike. Vissica held her subordinate on his feet as he took greedy breaths of air. The Knight's shoulders heaved slowly, drawing slow and deep breaths as she wet her lips.

"Thank you, Captain."

Vissica withdrew her paws from his armor, willing them into fists to still the lingering tremor of rage that surged through them. She willed calmness in her voice, though it still quavered residually.

"What else can you tell me?"

[Reikkel Orgern]

He was no stranger to the Selonian's temper, and Reikkel tried to keep his gasps and coughs of recovery brief. His voice croaked at first, but he powered through as he leaned forward to place hands on both knees.

"She's...she's with a Togruta girl..."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica was fully listening. Not just to the words. Her feelings, instincts, and the mysteries of the Force all spoke echoes of the same language. There was no such thing as a coincidence. She'd felt drawn towards the Ghtroc freighter for a reason, to the two crew of the ship. A Captain with business in the hidden partisan base, and his first mate...

"Crewman Undhi." she said with uncanny certainty.

[Reikkel Orgern]

He looked surprised, despite knowing better. Lady Vissica's insights were always on the mark.

"...and a human boy."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Drawn out of her moment of voidgazing, Vissica's black eyes again focused squarely on Orgern.

"What boy??"

It didn't feel like a detail of happenstance. Even in the Captain's vague reference, Vissica could feel an unsaid importance.

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Orgern hadn't the slightest idea, other than a recollection of a particularly murderous glimpse as the second accomplice laid down covering fire. He was about to confess his uselessness on that front when to his relief, the Stormtrooper sergeant took Vissica's attention away from him.

"Lady Vissica, we found something."

The vox clicked in punctuation, and both the Selonian and the Captain turned to look at the black-pauldroned trooper as he presented a datacube.

"Microstamped with the sigil of the Royal Feriae court, my Lady."

The Sergeant gestured to a body that a pair of troopers were dragging towards the pyre.

"We took it off this man while clearing the stables. He resisted, and we neutralized him."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica plucked the cube from the stormtrooper's hand with a thumb and forefinger, turning the crystal in the sun as it refracted a rainbow of light. Her attention shifted to the body as the troopers hoisted it up.

"Hold."

The stormtroopers paused, turning to look at the approaching Knight. Her eyes moved from the corpse's face, to the cube, and back to the face.

"Protector Carstan."

The Selonian's whiskers raised. Her fingers closed over the cube. This was what she needed. Vissica turned, placing the datacube back in the hand of the Sergeant.

"I want every scrap of data sliced from this cube and transmitted to me at once."

Not waiting for an affirmative, Vissica pushed Captain Orgern aside, making her way towards the gunship he had departed from.

"Captain Orgern, I will be returning to the King's court to settle this problem."

The musteloid stooped under the low clearance, pivoting her bullet-shaped muzzle back in his direction.

"Find Captain s'Ilancy. For your sake, you should be certain not to fail me this time."

[Cerie Moreau]

* * *

She'd given an odd look to Loki as he seemed to draw back, stepping away from his previous bizarre display of anger. Almost as if he recognized her. The thought was enough to confuse her, since it seemed odd that some random kid would know Captain s'Ilancy. But, then he'd gone awkward; or at least, awkward in her opinion. And as Shuvin had slowed the speeder to a stop, Cerie resisted the urge to ask if the young Togruta had found Loki on the discounts rack.

What kept her mouth shut though, was the smell.

There was always that terrible note to the stench of violent death. Sadness mixed with desperation mixed with the awful olfactory mishmash of burned and burning bodies.

The Westars were gripped tightly even as the blonde stepped slowly from the speeder. She spied an engine, thirty feet away and still smoking. Mangled, twisted sheets of durasteel that had once formed the body littered all around them as though they'd simply been thrown about like bits of a torn up flimsi on the wind. A seat, the torn fabric mostly charred away was upturned, the tracks that had once held it fast and firm sticking up. Beneath was a body. A small one. An arm could be seen, cloth and fur having been burned into the skin beneath to leave an ugly black coating.

Her grip on the Westars grew slack by a small measure as she let her eyes continue on over the devastation strewn in every direction. It was easy to tell the point of impact. There really was no mistaking it.

Cerie tried not to look at the remains that were interspersed with the wreckage. In the end though she found it impossible. For as much metal and machinery, there was flesh and bone.

Her chest rose and fell, and her gaze dropped to her feet; an action that showed to her a single, blackened finger. A youngling's finger. It was suddenly enough for her, and she gave a sniff before lifting her arm, running the back of her hand across her brow.

"C'mon, Shuvin."

She took a partial step backwards, away from the finger and the story it held.

"Ben's not here. Let's go."

[Abarai Loki]

Familiar enough with the appearance of Captain Ben from the holo, Loki patrolled the periphery of the carnage, inspecting the scattered remains of the passengers. The stench was putrid, and reminded him of the time he saw a Lurmen village burn to the ground, many years ago. Over the edge of the speeder, leaned a black torso, gnarled and twisted by the heat. It looked like it might be inspecting the undercarriage, reaching out with its bony fingers to make last minute repairs. Loki gave the interior a once over, but found there was nothing telling of the speeder's occupants - though their story was clear enough. A family murdered, in an horrific instant, for trying to get away.

Through the smoky haze, he spotted Shuvin; the sight of the wreckage had taken its toll. He wondered how she would hold up once they arrived at the base, especially if they found her Captain Ben in a similar condition. The sight of death did not concern him, it was the injustice that unsettled him so: his hatred of the Empire had been cultivated from an early age, it had been given focus through the lens of rebel bias, and credence with Alliance reports. He'd killed faceless Imperial soldiers because that was the thing he was supposed to do, because the Empire was the enemy. But this?

"We are wasting time." He was already on his way back to the speeder when a distant howl drew his attention to the sky, and to a small gunship that was on its way back to the city.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"C'mon, Shuvin. Ben's not here. Let's go."

Shuvin jumped at the mention of her name, but only nodded haggardly and walked back to the mule.

"Yeah," she said dazedly, looking back at the bodies. "He's not here."

They left behind the wreckage, and Shuvin didn't look back once.

As the site of the once rebel base came into view, they could see gunships and troop transports lifting off in perfect concert, making their ways to the city or to the Destroyer.

The ebullient mood had been broken and no equilibrium had been restored by the time they'd made their way to the ruins of the ranch site. Shuvin had remained stubbornly silent until they'd pulled up to the pile of bodies placed in the midst of the destruction. Above, the Star Destroyer still loomed, but now it seemed distant, like a deadly moon rather than an imminent catastrophe.

Shuvin's already drawn face simply showed how hard she was clenching her jaw.

"Ben!" she called, hopping out of the speeder and rushing past the disrespectful pyre. "Ben! ​Ben!"

[Reikkel Orgern]

"We've completed our search of the structures. There's no one left."

"Yes, well get a scanning crew and make doubly sure!" Captain Orgern replied sharply to the stormtrooper sergeant, who saluted as he turned back to join his platoon."

This was frustration. They were so close to total victory, and despite that, the small details of ultimate satisfaction were eluding him. Finding Loklorien s'Ilancy had suddenly taken paramount importance. More important than leadership assets to this partisan cell. More important than caches of arms or intelligence. The Captain knew what the Jedi's capture meant to his superior, and he knew even more intimately what it would mean to fail. The thought of it left his throat dry, and Reikkel turned with a heel pivot to the makeshift observation post the Imperials still occupied at the fringes of the base.

Then it hit him. The boxes. He'd recovered some boxes from his encounter with s'Ilancy. Ostensibly dressed up as sweets, but one would have to be an idiot to assume that was the case.

"Trooper! I want these boxes inspected carefully."

Retrieving the captured materiale from a satchel, Orgern passed the parcels to the nearest stormtrooper.

"Be careful, they may be booby-trapped."

Better to have the trooper find that out if they were, of course. Orgern stood a careful distance away, watching as the stormtrooper carefully opened the cardstock flap of one of the brightly colored boxes. He reached inside...then pulled a small brownish disc. Even without his face visible, the trooper's body language telegraphed his total confusion.

"It, uh...it appears to be a biscuit, sir."

Captain Orgern surged forward, anger reddening his face. He snatched the offending baked goods from the stormtrooper's fingers, glancing at it before returning his ire to the trooper.

"Of course it's a biscuit!"

His gloved fist closed over the snack food, pulverizing it into a rain of sweet crumbs that fell to the earth. Why was fortune pissing down his leg?? Why further was Loklorien s'Ilancy traipsing about on an enemy stronghold with biscuits??

[Cerie Moreau]

* * *

Cerie had slid from the speeder at the same time as Shuvin, her boots hitting the ground in rapid pace as she followed the Togruta closely. The pile was purposefully ignored - after the wreckage of the speeder, she'd just about had her fill of death. Oh, she knew that the galaxy was a rather unforgiving place, and life was never fair, but there were times when a person just couldn't look upon such utter despair for long periods of time. It was worse when encountered in pockets... like during an Imperial bombardment, and the leftovers scattered in its' wake.

Of course, the smell of what had happened here was enough to remind her well enough that this, right now, was one of those times that life wanted her to know just how brutal it could be.

"Ben!!"

Echoing Shuvin's own cry, the blonde instantly found her gaze sweeping left and right, hoping to spot him poking his head up from behind whatever hiding place he might've found.

"Ben??! You can stop hiding now!"

[Abarai Loki]

In unison with Shuvin and Cerie, Loki grabbed his toolbox, climbed out of the speeder, and moved over charred earth towards the landscape of devastation that had unfurled before them. It was a rare thing for him to be passively aware of the feelings of another, but the intensity of Shuvin's emotions were such that they hit him like waves, and compelled him onwards, drawing him, like a beacon, deeper into the smoking ruins. The urgency of his companions was not reflected in his steps, as he climbed over mounds of broken brick and warped durasteel - he did not share their attachment to this Captain Ben, and, given the circumstances, there was something to be said for keeping a cool head.

Splitting from the others to cover more ground, he found himself in what was once a courtyard, flanked on all sides of broken husks of buildings. The ground was pocked with deep uniform craters, scars from the hellfire rained down from above; there was one crater so deep it appeared to have penetrated a bunker deep underground, where thick black smoke billowed into the air like some sort of hellish geyser. With every step, it seemed like the captain's chances of survival became slimmer. He could be anywhere: under the rubble, on a pyre, or buried inside the smoking bunker.

"Captain Ben!" Loki called out. 'Ben' was too familiar for someone he'd never met. A twisted metal door groaned, and snapped off its hinges as he tried to open it. He peered inside, "Captain Ben?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Ben! Ben!" Shuvin screamed out over the smoking battlefield. "No, please no. BEN!"

She stopped, panting from her running and shouting to simply look at the remains of people and buildings and ships scattered about. Cerie was coming up on her side, and she could see Loki making his way through the debris to her. The sound of the fire and debris shifting in the distance in several different places echoed in the quiet landscape.

"Damn it! Damn it!" she gasped, tears threatening to drip down her now dusty cheekbones. "Where is he?"

Emotion bubbled inside of her: fear and dread and frustration and helplessness roiled around inside, and came out with the snarled yell and swift kick to a Rebel trooper's helmet laying on the ground nearby, launching it off into the distance; she didn't see where, as sudden pain erupted in her foot and she kept her eyes on the ground. Even so, she could hear Loki and Cerie coming up.

"That hurt," she murmured, keeping her weight off her smarting toes.

[Ben Merasska]

For a while, everything was simply dark and he thought for a moment maybe he'd finally come to the end; maybe he'd finally died.

He felt relief first. It was finally over. The long defeat had claimed him. But there was also a deep sense of fear and panic at the thought of dying, and an overwhelming desire to return. Why? He then remembered Esther, and Shuvin, and Cerie. Cirr. Lyanie. Mama Taa.

He still felt relieved to let go, but now there was guilt and sadness and a bit of a sense of longing. He'd never caught up to Esther.

And then he woke up in a dark and dusty expanse. He couldn't tell where he was, though the coughing and the pain in his head made him reasonably sure that he wasn't dead. He was sitting down, with his back against a wall. With some effort, he pushed himself to his feet, and tried to track back mentally while carefully moving forward physically.

So, he remembered talking to that Selonian. After that, he left the building looking for something, or someone. What was it? He nearly tripped over a loose hard something on the floor, but barely managed to keep his feet. His mind putting together the pieces made his head hurt even more.

Banthabrand. He nearly fell to his side as the wall was no longer there. He could hear noise and wind close by. He'd been looking for Banthabrand. His payment was credits and information on the bounty hunter that had taken his niece from Corulag.

He reached out in front of himself and shambled forward slightly, until his hands pressed up against cracked duracrete; with almost no effort, he could feel the pieces move slightly, so he pushed a bit harder, and the pieces of concrete and dirt fell away, letting light pierce the darkness and prompting a hushed profanity from him when his eyes couldn't adjust quickly enough. It took some time to make an opening in the rubble large enough for him to pull himself through, and once he did, he looked around and up at the smoky sky and coughed.

"I'm alive!" he gasped hoarsely, falling to his knees and coughing his lungs out. "I'm alive!"

And then a helmet came sailing through the air and collided with his face.

"Ow!" he cried, hands coming up to grip his face and falling onto his back. "Damn it, that hurt!"

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin looked up, eyes wide as she heard a meaty 'thwack' and then a choked cry of pain, one so familiar she knew who it was without any real cadence to it.

She sprinted off, ignoring Loki and Cerie's calls for her and the sharp pain in her foot, to skirt a large debris pile and catch sight of a dusty figure rolling around with his hands on his face.

"Ben!" she shouted, picking up speed. Ben pushed himself off the ground to his knees just in time to be tackled back to the ground by his teenage mechanic. "Ben, you're alive!"

"Uh," the Alderaani man grunted, blood dribbling from his nose and a massive bruise forming on his face. His eyes were slightly unfocused, but he wrapped his arms around her and hugged her back. "Yeah. Sure am."

She let out a sobbing gasp and held him tighter.

"Ah! Watch the horns there sweetie," he grunted. "Almost gored me. Then where'd we be, hm? Nowhere good, I'll tell you."

Shuvin sobbed out and laugh and continued to hold him.

[Abarai Loki]

The shouting drew Loki, at once. He came scrambling over a small mountain of debris, and skidded down the other side, with dislodged bricks, and wood, clattering in his wake. There was Shuvin, clutching desperately onto Captain Ben, who, if he hadn't been talking and moving, might've been dead for all the crying she was doing. Loki slowed to a stop, keeping a respectful distance from the tearful reunion. He watched, for as long as he dared. During his time with the Jedi, he'd never shared in their proclivity for exploring feelings, but, to see Shuvin's fear turn into relief, provided him with no small degree of satisfaction.

While they talked and embraced, he allowed his gaze to wander, scanning their immediate surroundings for an uninvited anyone, or anything, that might turn their joy to ashes.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Imperial gunship touched down on the parade ground before the Royal Palace of Feriae, it's skids bumping the duracrete as the twin ion engines tapered off their growl. Vissica slinked from the fuselage, rising to two feet as four shock troopers followed in her wake. The rhythmic clap of their synthetic soles on the pavement was as constant as a war drum as the troopers marched to the gate. Each man behind the Knight carried a blaster rifle hoisted across their chest, save for one. The last man carried an opaque grey lidded box, affixed with the Imperal gear insigna.

As the entourage crested the stairs leading to the castle, they were confronted by two members of the Kings watch.

"I have business with King Vashakhal." The Selonian rasped.

With some reservations, the guards stood aside, drawing the heavy doors apart. Within, the royal court was in session. Any business at hand died on every pair of lips, as all eyes turned toward the Imperial Knight.

"We have reports of Imperial soldiers in the city. The city!" Steward Kaiz shouted, pointing an accusing finger at Vissica as he stepped between her and the king.

"To say nothing of your...spectacle to the west. Barbarity! You didn't even so much as consult with the King! The King, he -aaghk!"

With his voice suddenly stolen, the Steward stammered, attempting to mouth words that never formed. He clutched at the starched high collar of his coat, allowing the Selonian to pass him by.

"Excuse the interruption, Great King, but I have uncovered evidence of partisan activity I believe you must see."

The Steward was released from his invisible stranglehold, gasping for breath. As he fell to his knees, Vissica made a small gesture, bidding the shocktrooper carrying the parcel to step forward. The box's lid was opened, and the Selonian reached inside, gripping a severed human head by his crop of red hair.

"That's Karstan!" The King's eyes went wide. "He's a Captain of my Watch. Explain yourself, Selonian!"

"I shall, Great King." Vissica replied, drawing a data disc from her utility pouch. "This file was retrieved from the assault on the destroyed partisan base. It was in possession of the late Protector Karstan."

With a gesture, King Vashakhal directed a minder to retrieve the evidence from Vissica. He promptly placed the disc into a reader at the king's dais, which projected a stream of holographic data. Vissica took the King's momentary silence as an opportunity to narrate the content.

"Highness, you will note in these messages there is evidence of collusion between the partisans and factions of the King's Watch. Not only that, but the evidence hints at a conspiracy even closer to your throne."

The Selonian's statements instigated a swell of murmurings among the court, which King Vashakhal stilled with a shout of "Enough!" The young king glowered at the Knight, his chin upturned slightly in a haughty assertion.

"Your claims are bold, Imperial. Scandalous, even. But claims are not proof."

Vissica's eyes narrowed with a rumble in her chest.

"If proof is what you desire, proof is what you shall have."

"You Imperial bastard!"

The shout came from behind, prompting Vissica to whirl about and face Steward Kaiz - now suddenly armed with a holdout blaster. Before the Selonian could arm herself, a single shot barked out, scouring the fur across her left shoulder in a graze. The shock troopers returned fire, putting rounds into the Steward and sending him to the ground. Kaiz writhed in pain, reaching for his weapon that suddenly slid across the marble floor before leaping into Vissica's hand. The Knight glanced from her singed shoulder, to the weapon, and down to the Steward, tossing the pistol away.

"Steward Kaiz, perhaps you can help demonstrate my point."

Shock troopers appeared at either side, hoisting the groaning man to his feet. He was deposited before Vissica on his knees. The Selonian splayed her right hand, the webbing between each digit stretching as she grasped his jawline.

"You'll get nothing from me, Imperial scum. Nothing!"

Vissica turned her attention away from her would-be assassin and back to the King.

"Highness, allow me to demonstrate the extent of the corruption in your court."

In light of the attempted assassination, King Vashakhal stayed his hand. The Selonian's eyes returned to Kaiz. She spoke in a voice not entirely her own.

"Are you involved in the partisan movement on Feriae Junction?"

Stoicism and defiance hardened the Steward's features - but only for a moment. His jaw quavered as he struggled to look away. Kaiz's dignity evaporated into a grimace as his last ounce of resistance failed.

"Yes!"

Audible gasps sounded in the court at the Steward's admission. The confessor's eyes met his king.

"Forgive me, Your Grace!"

King Vashakhal did not conceal the surprise on his face. He looked to members of his court, then to the Selonian, then back to his steward. Vissica addressed the king, keeping Kaiz well in hand.

"What would you have of this man, Highness?" she asked, whiskers raised.

Put between a rock and a hard place, the King had far fewer options than it seemed. With his closest advisor working contrary to his edict, it was betrayal broadcast openly and in the presence of a powerful adversary. The King could not afford to let this contagion spread.

"My apologies, Knight. It seems that my steward has led me astray. In the interests of good relations between Feriae and the Galactic Empire, I submit Steward Kaiz to Imperial justice."

Kaiz blanched, fear cut deeply into his age lines.

"Majesty! I've done only what is best to protect us! You don't know wh-"

Vissica seized the Steward by his hair, wrenching his head back to look her in the eyes.

"Listen to your groveling, you traitor!"

The cool of the Selonian's demeanor suddenly caught fire as she bared her teeth at the condemned man.

"You stand before your king, guilty of breaking your oath, and have the audacity to tell him what he must do? You have confessed. Now you earn a traitor's death."

Vissica released her hold of Kaiz, taking a step behind him. The disgraced Steward again looked towards his young king, realizing at the last moment that Vashakhal's child-like astonishment from a moment before had tempered back into the aloof mask of a royal.

"Highness, I'm..."

ZWOOM!

The column of white energy bursting from the Steward's chest ended the man's final words. Kaiz writhed in place, shock-numbed hands attempting to reach for the impaling instrument, succeeding only in severing clumsy fingers into the energy. From behind, Vissica watched the man spiral down his mortal wound. She took a long step back, using it to draw free the full length of her blade. No sooner did the greatsaber draw out through the Steward's back then the Knight sent it hurtling into a full-bodied swing, severing the man's head from his neck before his body could pitch to the floor.

Kaiz's severed head rolled free from his body, tumbling forward until it came to a rest to stare up at the king he betrayed.

Vissica's eyes fixed upon her bloody deed, then slowly drew upwards to the King. She extinguished her weapon.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

In the aftermath of Steward Kaiz's execution, the court of Feriae fell into stunned silence. The Selonian Knight coolly regarded the severed head that stared up at it's former master, and considered the demonstration of violence to be an educational reminder for a young king who should know his place. Vissica reached over her shoulder, securing her greatsaber back into it's scabbard with a metallic clank.

"Your Highness, it is unfortunate that your Steward's betrayal necessitated his death. I believe that he indeed acted contrary to your wishes, and that his villainy does not represent the people of Feriae Junction."

Vissica seemed to ponder her words, tugging lightly at the tuft of fur at her chin as she approached the throne.

"I believe there is no reason why we should be enemies."

King Vashakhal's regal poise had given way to the frightened eyes of a child. He shook his head, to which Vissica bowed hers.

"Good."

The Selonian stooped down before the throne, reaching low to retrieve Kaiz's severed head by grasping his hair. She hoisted the ghastly remnant to eye level, appraising it as one might look over a costly vase.

"A ruler should be wise and just, Great King. They should also be feared. This is my gift to you."

With both hands, Vissica presented the head for Vashakhal to inspect. The boy's first impulse was to retreat back into his throne, but he remained at the seat's edge, looking at the imperial with a dawning understanding.

"So that defiance is known to be met with punishment?" the young ruler asked. Vissica's chest rumbled. She passed the severed head to the adjacent shock trooper, parceling it up in the box which previously housed Protector Karstan's remains.

"That is correct, Majesty. Fear underpins a sound doctrine of rule. Rule through fear has certain preventative qualities. Look to your court."

Vissica's head turned along with the King's, taking in the rightfully-intimidated members of the Feriae nobility.

"If there is another treasonous snake among your minders, they now know that you are capable of using any necessary means to secure your right to rule. Now would be a good time to determine which among them should take Kaiz's place as steward, while this lesson is fresh in their minds."

The Knight took a step away from the throne, allowing Vashakhal enough space to view the gallery without the Selonian looming in the periphery.

"Baron Sorrau."

A balding man with flush cheeks gaped, singled out by nobles shifting away from him. His jowled face quivered slightly.

"Me, Your Highness?!"

Fearful and fawning, Vissica speculated wordlessly as she watched. If her appraisal was correct, he'd make for a far less ambitious choice than Kaiz.

"I choose you to serve in my court with the duties of Steward." Vashakhal raised a hand off the arm rest of his throne. "Step forward and kiss my signet."

Baron Sorrau waddled more than walked, his rotund features betraying a lifestyle of soft excess. A shade more pale than before, the Baron daubed his glistening head with a kerchief, pocketing it as he stood next to the Knight. He dared not make eye contact with Vissica as he timidly pressed his thin lips against Vashakhal's signet ring.

"I thank you for your service, Steward Sorrau." the young king met the older man's small dark eyes.

"H-honored....honored, Your Grace. Of course."

Vissica watched the nomination with inscrutable eyes. Her tail thumped the marble floor as she tucked her fingers beneath the lower edge of her armor cuirass.

"Now with your power structure restored, Good King, I invite you to travel with me to Imperial Center."

The Selonian extended a hand.

"You would be a guest of my Empress."

The King's expression turned thoughtful and somber.

"You mean that I would become her hostage."

The Selonian's brow raised and lowered slightly.

"The two are not mutually exclusive, Your Highness. The lesson I have taught you today is but a taste of what the Empress could show you."

[Cerie Moreau]

* * *

She had called out to Shuvin as the younger Togruta dashed off, following the sound of a muffled voice. She stood there, unsure if she should follow or simply stay where she was. Even as the boy started off, Cerie bit her lip in a show of lingering uncertainty. It was a feeling that ultimately didn't last long, and she set off at a brisk walk, rounding a debris pile to see...

Oh stars above and the Emperor's Black Bones.

Her pace quickened as she surged forward at the site of Ben.

"Ben!"

Barreling past Loki, the blonde hopped over chunks of durracrete as she kept her eyes on the bizarrely lucky son-of-a-bitch that had let her into his little family. And in a way, he'd become family to her as well (though she would never... ever admit it out loud). Cerie skidded to enough of a halt, and though she still held the Westars in both hands, her momentum bringing her in a controlled sort of crash into the two as she wrapped her arms as far around both Ben and Shuvin as she could. She held on tightly.

Nothing really to say, honestly. Sometimes words just weren't enough.

[Reikkel Orgern]

As the tearful reunion commenced, a shadow moved across the meadow in the distance, accompanied by an unnatural whirring sound. With a hiss of servos, the Arakyd Viper probe droid floated on an air cushion, it's manipulator arms twitching and dangling as it's bulbous head fixated on a point of interest in the distance. The droid slowed to a crawl, then paused outright. It's dome-shaped main ocular focused, zooming in on a group of four humanoids gathered among the wreckage. One in particular stood out. Humanoid female, blonde hair. 95% match probability.

The droid's stout antenna extended from it's head.

[Ben Merasska]

"Hey, hey," Ben laughed and coughed simultaneously. "I'm fine, I'm fine. How're you?"

Shuvin punched him without truly letting him go.

"Ah! Alright, alright. I missed you too."

He smiled and hugged his two girls back, and looked up, his good cheer fading but not entirely disappearing from his face. "And who's this?"

Shuvin pushed back and wiped her eyes, glancing back at Loki.

"Ah, this fella's name is Loki. We met at the star port. Seemed down on his luck, so I talked to him and had some tea — not like that! — and when you called — what was with that, you big jerk! Ain't no way I was just going to sit there! (she punched his arm again; "Ah, stop it with the punching!") — he helped me save Cerie, and came with us to come get you."

Ben clambered to his feet, squeezing Cerie's shoulder and smiling at her, and let Shuvin drag him over to the boy.

"Mister Loki," he said, only slightly awkward. His tone still carried vestiges of the care and warmth he'd gleaned from the hug, but there was a healthy dose of caution in his demeanor too. "You've done Shuvin some help, and I'm grateful to you for it."

He extended his hand.

[Abarai Loki]

"Captain Ben," he said, in greeting. The handshake was firm and short, the way a handshake should be. He considered the man, and then the smouldering ruins in sight just behind him, "You are a lucky man."

It was, admittedly, a rather staggering understatement, given the state of things. How the captain had emerged from the ashes of a veritable hell on earth, practically unscathed, was the sort of mystery that gave vital breath to superstition. As such, Loki dwelt instead upon his good fortune to have someone like Shuvin looking out for him. Their embrace had been fierce, and shameless, and, almost certainly, of a father-daughter sort. They clearly cared for each other - even Loklorien s'Ilancy had made a meal of it, throwing herself at them, in full embrace of this bizarre Cerie persona of hers - it was nice.

What hadn't been nice was how Shuvin had elected to introduce him, as if he was some unfortunate tag-along, to be humoured and pitied. He turned, and looked back towards the city, partly to avoid small-talk, partly to make himself feel useful.

"Our run-in with the stormtroopers will make it difficult to re-enter the city. And the starport will be crawling with Imperials. We may have a fight on our hands."

[Ben Merasska]

Ben coughed again, following Loki's gaze and then up to the Destroyer hovering over the city.

"Well," he said, his face grim. "Now that's a sight I can always go without. Though, I have to ask."

He turned to Cerie.

"What in the world are you wearing that uniform for, Cerie?"

[Cerie Moreau]

It was a strange look that Cerie made in that moment; raised brows over wide, rolling eyes as she pulled a rather exasperated face, and mouth open in the beginning stages of a non-verbal 'see what had happened was... '

Of course, what ended up finally coming out was... almost exactly that.

"Look, I went out for Space Scout cookies," a shrug, the Westars coming up on either side of her with the motion. "I thought it would net us a discount on a bunch of them."

And then came the validation.

"And it did. I had so many boxes. Stowaways, Slim-Mints, Zeltrons, Hyperlanes, all of them. Multiple. Boxes."

But of course the reality of it all was a shade different now.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"And what, the Empire stole them?" Ben asked, crossing his arms. "Besides, how much could you have possibly saved from pretending to be Alliance? Look at where we are, Cerie. Look at that."

Ben pointed at the Star Destroyer sitting over the city as he started walking towards the speeder.

"Come on, folks. Let's get now while the gettin's good." He said in aside, and continued with the previous line of conversation. "Now I'm not sayin' that didn't happen," he said. "But you have to wonder who'd give a uniformed Alliance lady a discount on Space Scout cookies here of all places. Dac? Sure. Here? I'm pretty sure this is becoming..."

Shuvin stood and brushed off her legs, smiling and feeling somewhat shaky due to the intense emotional swings she'd gone through so far today.

"Loki," she called, moving to catch up with the boy while Ben and Cerie moved on further ahead to the speeder. He half turned to look at her. "Oh don't be so touchy. Honestly, it's like you look for the worst possible way to take what someone says about you."

She stepped forward and hugged him.

"Thank you. For helping me with Cerie and coming with to help with Ben. Not a lot of people would have done so much for someone that's basically a stranger," she breathed onto his shoulder.

[Reikkel Orgern]

The stormtroopers had set up a temporary OP, utilizing the remnants of a bombed-out tack room at the ranch. The roof and two walls had collapsed, but the detritus was easily pushed away to afford cover in two directions if needed. A small holoprojection table had been set up, illuminated with a topographical map of the area. And at the head of it, Captain Orgern was having a lousy day.

"Patrol three reports no life signs, as far to the north as the high ridge. We're still checking out the grid with the dried out creek bed, but initial flyovers don't pick up anything."

Reikkel leaned forward, tucking a biscuit into his mouth as he pointed out an artifact on the board that suddenly changed color.

"Looks like a life form contact." He spoke after swallowing, zooming in on the probe droid. "Do we have a data feed?"

"Incoming now, sir." the trooper nodded, manning the terminal to talk with the viper probe. From the red-tinted droid token, a new holographic image flickered, hovering above the topography. A group of four humanoids came into view. Silhouettes at first, small and blurry. The magnification intensified and focus slowly sharpened. Captain Orgern bolted straight, tossing aside his commandeered box of cookies as he shook the comms tech by the shoulder.

"Call up ground support from Decimator to those coordinates at once!"

Breaking out in a sprint, the Captain quickly donned his slope-edged army helmet as he charged toward the ITT speeder keeping it's motor warm.

"First squad! With me!"

A flurry of activity broke out at the OP as a dozen stormtroopers quickly hoisted their rifles and packs, falling in step with Orgern as the hatch doors of the Imperial Troop Transport opened. Captain Orgern paused only to flag down a pair of scout troopers, pointing frantically to their parked bikes. He didn't need to say a word to get them to mount up.

Within a minute, they were on the move.

[Cerie Moreau]

"Well," Cerie made a face as she and Ben walked side by side.

"... It's not like I used the full uniform, just the fatigues; and even these things are ratty as all get-out."

There was a defensive tone to her voice, and the blonde gave a hmph as she stuffed one of the Westars into the back of her pants.

One hand now free, Cerie reached up to peel away the prosthetic scar bisecting her right eye. Another dissatisfied grunt, and she dropped the thing into the dirt a split second before crushing it underfoot. She'd have to wait until they got back to Alderaan before removing the white contact.

"Besides," she went on in a tone a bit more subdued, "we're closer to Alliance space than Imperial space, so I figured it wouldn't be so much of an issue."

[Abarai Loki]

"Thank you. For helping me with Cerie and coming with to help with Ben. Not a lot of people would have done so much for someone that's basically a stranger."

"Oh."

The hug came as a surprise, and not a wholly unwelcome one. She felt warm against him, and small, and, suddenly, vulnerable. Even though he scarcely knew Captain Ben, it was difficult not to share in her relief, for it seemed to seep out of her very pores as she held him. What he could actually smell, however, was smoke, engine grease and something else beneath all that, something clean. The rigid alarm untangled from his muscles and he managed to get one arm around her to gently, sporadically, pat her on the back. It felt weird, but in a good way.

"They wouldn't?" he said, somewhat puzzled. Helping her had felt like the natural thing to do, at the time. Sure, she was pretty, and she had been nice to him, when he was, admittedly, a little down on his luck (not that she had to tell everyone that!), but, even if she hadn't been any of those things, could he have just denied her help, like that? Being kind was normal, he reminded himself. And it was rewarded with hugs. He pulled himself out of his reverie, and from the embrace, and gave her a nod, "Glad I could help."

He cleared his throat to punctuate an end to the closeness and the warmth, and all that stuff. And he turned just in time to see Lok peel off her own fracking scar. His mouth fell open. His legs worked underneath him, slowly at first, as he replayed her conversation with Ben, about the uniform, and her reason for wearing it. And as his thoughts gathered momentum, so did his legs, until he had rounded the speeder, and swept up the crumpled prosthetic, to brandish it at the mystery woman.

"Who- who are you?" he said, eyes narrowed, as if he were starting to see beyond the facade, at last. The scar wobbled between his fingers, "What are you supposed to be? What- How- Who are you!?"

[Ben Merasska]

"Not so much of an issue?" He gaped. "Ah huh, wha, I... I have no words. No words, Cerie. Do I have to point up at the big scary Imperial ship? Right there? That I'm pointing at?"

He shook his arm, emphasizing that he was pointing at the Destroyer.

"I mean it's not like it's not helpful, and I'm not going to keep you from keeping your grasp on the fine art of swindling and confidence gaming as razor sharp as you have it, but..." he trailed off, realizing he was completely negating every point he wanted to make. "...Why do you have to look like some real bigwig? Why couldn't it have been some mid-ranking Colonel or Captain or something? It would've been so much easier."

"Who are you?!" Loki snarled, his eyes and face creased with a confused and betrayed sort of anger that came from believing someone to be other than they were.

"See? Right there." Ben gestured to Loki, mostly ignoring his sputtered demands in favor of accentuating his point while he and Cerie climbed into the speeder. "Right there. See that? That's what happens. Almost every time."

[Cerie Moreau]

Cerie responded with a rolling of her eyes, making a face as she deposited herself roughly into the back seat. Of course, in the very next instant she winced while rocking her hips upward, free hand going behind her to remove the Westar she'd stuffed into her belt. A frown, and her lips pursed as she resettled herself.

"Look, I could ask you why you thought it would be a good idea to go into a building that was gonna be spending its' future in a pile of rubber, but I'm not because I'm not a jerk."

Loki's furious demand was ignored in favor of bowing up in indignant anger.

Moments later she was right back up, as if she'd never sat down in the first place, and with a finger nearly in his face, she opened her mouth to retort further. Not a single word came out, and she clamped her jaw shut once more. Her brow rose, and mouth opened once more yet the same lack of verbal defense was all that she had. Or didn't have. Whatever. Either way the words were just not happening, and that fact was just as annoying as anything in the history of ever.

And after the third attempt at speaking - still with the same silent result - Cerie screwed her face up into an expression of silent, absolute, and utterly rage-filled frustration.

A hand came up, index finger extended, and choosing physical force rather than words, she poked his face right on the spot of where she could see a bruise beginning to form.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

King Vashakhal was led from the royal palace under Imperial protection to the parade ground. The gunship that had delivered Vissica and her shock troopers to the palace had since been replaced by a Lambda-class shuttle, itself disgorging a dozen troopers who served to keep a growing crowd away. More and more sounds of agitation could be heard as the citizens of Feriae saw their King being led to the ship.

"What's happening?"

"They're taking the King??"

"You Imperial bastards!"

Vissica walked alongside the King, mindful to keep the concerned subjects at bay. Her attention, however, drifted above. From the main bay of the Decimator, a small Gozanti class cruiser launched. From it's height, the Selonian could barely make out the features of a pair of AT-ST walkers underslung beneath the support vessel's hull as it picked up speed, - heading west to leave the city. Vissica's tail slapped the treadstones as she tugged at her chin tuft.

"Place the King aboard the shuttle, Lieutenant." Vissica ordered, as she separated herself from the throng. She embarked on a new path - one that was hers alone.

It would take her back to the star port. To a place she could feel the force guiding her.

[Abarai Loki]

"Wh-" Words died on Loki's lips, as he watched Cerie climb into the speeder to resume her argument with Ben. He stared, indignant, "Are you ignoring me?"

Nothing. The fraud continued to huff, and object, and assault Captain Ben, sparing him not even a glance. He considered the limp prosthesis in his hand for one more second, before casting the offensive little thing back into the dirt. There was Shuvin, climbing into what had originally been his spot, beside Ben. He gaped at her, hands open and spread wide, as if either of them would catch a clue.

"Am I being ignored, here!?"

She looked apologetic but had little to offer in the way of explanation or consolation. Perhaps experience had taught her to keep out of the firing line whenever mother and father were having a tiff. And, though he held no such personal reservations, Loki was not prepared to parrot himself like some ill-tempered child. He climbed into the back seat, and lifted his trusty tool box into his lap, hugging it close.

"I'm being ignored."

Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the glimmer of the sonic blaster and snatched at it before the fraud got any ideas, hoarding it to himself. As the speeder took off towards the city, the fraud was afforded one last scathing look.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Here, Cerie," she said. "Take the front."

Shuvin clambered into the back seat and sat next to Loki.

"Oh, poor baby," she hummed, throwing an arm around Loki's shoulders and squeezing him while they jolted forward. Ben turned them around to go back the way they came. Shuvin smiled at Loki's pouting and somehow refrained from teasing him more. Instead, she gave up the one armed hug, and sat away from the boy, one leg crossed and a curious look on her face.

"So, I guess you thought she was that Alliance lady, Lokoren Spilancy, or whatever, right? It seems like you know her personally, though. I mean, it's kinda weird to be so angry about someone pretending to be someone you don't know..." Shuvin trailed off, looking at her newfound friend intently for a long moment, as if trying to pierce a veil around his person. She smiled easily a moment later. "So you repaired some of droids or something then?"

[Abarai Loki]

"Everyone knew her."

His gaze was on the horizon, where the distant city started to grow and take shape beneath a black dagger-shaped sky. And beyond, the blue-inked ceiling of the world was wounded, torn open in angry slashes that looked ready to bleed. Night was drawing in like a shroud over the atrocities of the day.

The naive attempt at Loklorian s'Ilancy's name, it made him think back to a time when someone could say it aloud without experiencing a sharp twisting sense of dread in their guts. So much had changed since then, and, like the sky above, night had fallen upon Loklorian s'Ilancy's days, followed at last by the promise of a new dawn. Loki hated her, once. The betrayal had cut deep with all Jedi, poisoning fertile soils with distrust. Now, he didn't know. And the beauty of being so far removed from his old life, worlds away from Ossus and the Jedi, it meant he was under no obligation to have any of the answers, anymore.

When he finally looked Shuvin's way, he gave his tool box a pat, and shrugged, "Even Alliance ships needed droid mechanics."

[Reikkel Orgern]

Captain Orgern smiled behind his macrobinoculars, trimming the focus to bring the silhouette of the enemy speeder into sharp relief. With Feriae City in the far distance, reflecting the city lights off the hull of the Decimator, his target stood out in the darkening twilight.

"Contact at three-three-nine. Advance and fire!"

The ITT speeder's engines pushed to accelerate as the Captain slid back down the porthole, covering the hatch. At their flanks, the two speeder bikes picked up speed, easily overtaking the heavier craft in an attempt to harry their quarry. The transport gunner began to sight in on Orgern's coordinates, finding the speeder exactly where it ought to be. He opened fire, anti-personnel lasers stitching through the grass and pocking the paved highway just beneath the heroes.

Orgern crouched behind the driver, watching the chase unfold in the transparisteel viewport. He had them this time!

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Even Alliance ships needed droid mechanics," Loki said. Shuvin pursed her lips.

"Mmmhmm," she hummed, still looking at the boy. "Still, somethin's weird about your reaction—"

The sound of laser cannons firing was very distinctive, and one wasn't about to forget it if the experience didn't leave you a smoking mess of ash. The sound of explosions and the smell of burning air was also distinctive, and Shuvin shrieked and ducked.

"Ben! SOMEONE'S TRYING TO KILL US AGAIN!"

The speeder lurched forward as Ben gunned the engine and let loose with the throttle.

[Cerie Moreau]

The air around them cracked, like the atmosphere was something tangible and able to be broken by a set of shell-crackers, and the earth around them responded in kind. Pits instantly dug down, burrowing into small, ugly craters that sent flecks of debris out in angry shower. Bits of earth and durracrete hit the underside of the speeder, a few bouncing off the edges, and a few even tumbling inside.

Shuvin's yelled words only punctuated another volley of fire, and instinctively the blonde ducked low, hands gripping the handles of her Westars tightly.

There wasn't much that small blasters could do against anything larger than a person, and looking back, Cerie couldn't help the dismay at the sight of the two speeders rapidly closing the distance, and a larger craft following them. All of this was just fantastic.

"Where's that noisy whisperbug number you usually keep in here?!"

[Ben Merasska]

"Why?! Why this again?" Ben muttered to himself as he pulled off the road and into the rougher grassy terrain of the land that surrounded Feriae Junction. "I can't narrowly avoid death just once today. No. No, I have to almost die twice, hell, three times before the day is over! HOLD ON!"

The speeder bucked as they hit a narrow divot in the ground, lined with gravel and loose rocks, which sprayed out from the effort of the repulsors keeping the vehicle afloat.

He slammed on the brakes and turned sharply, watching the gunship rocket past them before sharply turning itself to reacquire them.

'I wish we had something to throw back at them,' he thought. 'Hell, a blaster rifle, a big rock, a sharp pointy stick, a grenade—'

His eyes widened and he threw himself back on top of Shuvin and Loki, frantically pawing open a small console where three thermal detonators sat in dusty unused glory.

"Aha! Here! Someone throw these!" he called back while he dug around the console with one hand, the other busily pointing at the imperial ship in desperate emphasis. "At that! Cerie, drive!"

[Abarai Loki]

Loki's patience was wearing thin. With the screech of Imperial lasers, the day, which had already gone from unfortunate to disastrous, had now crossed the threshold into outright tedium. The speeder lurched forward under Cerie's command, but the racing speeder bikes were already upon them. Loki turned, propping his knee against the seat, and wasted no time in firing off a shot from the sonic blaster. With a deep thrum, the air rippled and warped, carving a shallow canyon in the dirt; the bike bucked, like a rampaging reek, casting the stormtrooper to the ground. His friend returned fire, but the shots found only air, as Loki turned and sank back into his seat.

"Captain Ben, we are going to need-" His sentence fell apart at the sight of what greeted him, unearthed from stars-know-where, sitting on the seat beside him. Not one, not two, but three thermal detonators. He snatched one up and regarded it hungrily, like a ripe apple, "Yes. Yes!"

The day's proceedings had been shambolic, at best; a fiasco of missed flights, mistaken identities, and persistent Imperial pestering. Only decisive action would cut through the drudgery. And there were precious few things in the galaxy that yielded results as instant and satisfying as a thermal detonator. The fuse was activated under his thumb, and while the silver orb flashed and whined in his hand, Loki counted. Behind him, he could feel the advance of the troop transport, encroaching in thorny vines around his mind. One last shriek of anti-personnel fire.

He rose up, turned and released the detonator. It sailed across the expanse with unerring accuracy, and with a faint metallic tink against the transport's gun emplacement, it exploded. With the glare of fire shimmering on his face, Loki beamed.

"Ha!" He extended an open hand to Shuvin, "Another!"

[Reikkel Orgern]

The clap of the thermal detonator against the hull of the ITT deafened the crew within. Inside the downy embrace of tinnitus, Captain Orgern glowered ahead.

"TARGET THEIR ENGINE!"

He shouted over the din of his own protesting ears just in time to see the silhouette at the rear of the speeder wind up for another throw. This one didn't have the distance...but that was a problem. Orgern watched as the second detonator bounced once...twice...

...He checked his shoulder into the oblivious driver.

"EVADE YOU ID-"

Too late. The second detonator went off. Unlike the first that clapped against armor, the second detonator struck the rear of the armored transport's underbelly, hitting where no armor could protect. The explosion blew apart the rear compartment - including the repulsor drive. Brought back to earth - literally - the ITT crashed into the dirt, carving a rut as it bled it's momentum to a halt.

All Captain Orgern could do was watch his quarry elude him - again. He pounded the console in anger with a gloved fist.

[Cerie Moreau]

It was like some wild, limb-flailing dance that managed to deposit Cerie practically in Ben's lap as she leaned over as far as she could. Short arms made many tasks difficult when it came to reaching for things, and trying to lay hands on the steering yoke while finishing the tight half-turn that Ben had begun was like trying to put pasties on a dancing Askajian. While blind.

But, the blonde managed well enough, her fingers closing around the yoke and holding it as steady as possible for a brief moment before returning them to their previous vector.

She didn't dare look back, despite Loki's triumphant cry. Instead, Cerie focused on maintaining their direction.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben did nothing so undignified as cheer or shout in victory when he saw the gunship go down. Instead he just went limp in relief, rolling onto his back with a sigh and a smile as he watched the clouds above drift lazily in peaceful repose.

"Wait, who's driving this thing?" Ben asked. Loki and Shuvin both gave him nonplussed looks. Cerie cleared her throat. "Oh yeah. That'd be me."

Ben pushed himself up to the front again, not without some awkwardness; Shuvin gasping, "Cap'n! Don't touch me there... in public!" really put a berry on top of the awkwardness sundae truth be told. Especially given the suddenly accusing eyes of Loki, whom it seemed Shuvin had won over pretty handily. Even his protested, "Now I ain't ever touched you like that before!" only slightly lessened the glare. It only disappeared when Shuvin giggled and said, "Well yeah, but that's not what I said, is it?"

It was Shuvin's turn to be gifted with unimpressed looks. She simply smiled in satisfaction.

"Now what do we say we just get out of here before anything else horrifying deadly happens to us?" he asked. "I vote yes. To leaving."

[Abarai Loki]

"Yes. Please. And with all haste."

The thrill of disarming the transport was fading. How Loki had basked in its death throes: the telling groan of metal, the final sigh of repulsors, and the delicious screech and clamour as it buried itself in the ground, behind a shroud of dust and debris. If only a single thermal detonator could have the same effect upon the ominous shape draped over the city. The speeder resumed its approach. There was nothing for it: to escape this world, they must first step into the long shadow of the Empire.

"You know, they will probably be looking for this vehicle, now. We'll be spotted the second we enter the city."

[Ben Merasska]

"Hey now," Ben retorted, sending a reproaching look back Loki's way. "You know how much I spent on this thing? Too much to just toss it aside the second it becomes noticeable in a harebrained and dangerous rescue mission. That's how much. Besides, we can make it."

Fifteen Minutes Later...


The speeder groaned and hit the ground with a resounding thud as its repulsors gave out. Thankfully it didn't incur that much damage from the circumstance, as its front end was partially buried in a brick wall. Most of the damage had been taken before the fall what with the blaster fire and reckless driving through the city to get away from the Imperial forces that were looking for them.

"It's fine," Ben said, looking at the speeder in anguish. Shuvin, Loki, and Cerie were arrayed around him, all looking at the vehicle. "We can fix it."

The speeder caught on fire.

"A little fire never hurt—" Ben's words were cut off as a small muffled explosion caused the speeder to jerk as if in its death throes. "I've fixed worse—"

The brick wall crumbled over the speeder, burying it.

"Oh come on!" Ben threw his hands in the air. "Fine. Fine. We'll walk from here. We're not that far anyway."

To be fair, they'd nearly made it to the Feriae Junction star-port just fine, if it hadn't been for the eagle-eyed Imperials in their AT-STs keeping up just enough to make sure pursuit didn't completely lose them.

"Oh she was a beaut fer sure, Cap'n," Shuvin commiserated. "I'll miss her fierce."

Ben nodded and patted the teen on the shoulder in muted thanks as they trudged through the streets, carefully making their way back to Alderaan without being seen.

"Yeah, she was at that, Shuvin," Ben sighed.

[Cerie Moreau]

She stopped short of giving Ben a pat to the back as they walked, and instead focused on making herself as inconspicuous as possible. Well, at least as inconspicuous as one could be in a group of four individuals trying to essentially slink back to the starport. It was one of those weird things - though not quite so weird as things had been in her first meeting with Ben and Shuvin. That one had really taken the ryshcate.

Instead, she settled for simple silence in the face of it all.

At least she still had her blasters, which were currently in the grasp of white knuckled fingers, and her eyes tracked from one side to the other as the group moved on.

[Shuvin Undhi]

Ben remained drawn and reticent as they made their way into the avenues of the terminal; now deserted, it had an eerie feel to it that Shuvin had a hard time coming to grips with, given only hours before she'd been this close to making out with Loki not too far away.

"Seems a bit too quiet 'round here, don't it?" she whispered. Ben blinked and looked around.

"It does," he agreed. "But even if it is, our way still lies through it. Just be on your toes and don't be makin' any noise ain't needed to be made."

With that warning, they rushed through the terminal to Alderaan's landing bay, being as quiet as they could be. At the door, now closed, Ben stopped and turned to the group.

"Now we aren't going to have much time up in the air to be makin' plans, so let's get it right here so we know what we're about and not running 'round like a half-slaughtered nuna. Once we get on the ship, I'm going to be gettin' us out of here as quick as can be. Shuvin, I want you at the core, milking every last drop of power into the shields and engines as you can."

"Shiny, Cap'n!" Shuvin smiled easily.

"Cerie, I'm gonna need you in the cockpit. We'll probably need to lose every last bit of chaff and tall trails to keep 'em from lockin' on us."

Ben nodded once to Cerie, resting a hand on her shoulder, and turned to Loki.

"And, er, Loki..." Ben paused, sizing up the boy in front of him. Shuvin glanced over, and saw he looked serious and grim. Something about his expression seemed to strike a chord in Ben, who grimaced slightly and continued, "...you can operate a cannon turret, right? Right. Of course you can. Follow me and Cerie. I'll show you where to go."

Ben placed a hand on the door control.

"Everyone ready? We can do this. It's like every other month we end up outrunnin' someone gunnin' for us. Nothing's different about this time."

He pressed the door control, and with a loud mechanical clack as the locks disengaged and the doors slid open, Alderaan sat in pristine glory. Ben stopped a few steps in, looking at the ship.

"Uh, now this is different," he squinted, making out a figure on top of the ship. Shuvin came to halt next to the Captain.

"That looks like..." she murmured...

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

As the industrial spotlamps hung aloft in the hangar bay began to flicker to life, Alderaan began to take form from shadow. Blacks and greys turned to warmer shades incrementally, revealing the freighter moment by moment. In those seconds of transition, a shadow refused to yield. An inky aberration sat perched atop the hull. Two pinpricks of gold caught the growing light, reflecting it back at the approaching heroes. They blinked out in unison and then returned.

"The Force has willed that we meet again, Captain Merasska."

The voice was low, gravelly, yet unmistakably feminine in its origin. A familiar voice to Ben. The shadow bunched, prowling to the edge of the ship. The light caught her there, turning shadow into a cape, dull metal armor, and tawny, wiry fur. The gold pinpricks of eyes became black as Lady Vissica surveyed her quarry. With fluid movement, the Selonian loped off the edge of the Ghtroc freighter, her wide paws thudding on the duracrete below. Vissica gathered, then rose to her full height.

Outside the hangar, a rhythmic sound of ching-chock ching-chock rose in the night. No one needed reminding of what made such a metallic stamping. A pair of AT-ST walkers rounded adjacent buildings, situating themselves in the best position to block the exit.

"And this must be Crewman Undhi." Vissica shifted her attention to the young Togruta at Ben's side. She'd only caught a glimpse in Alderaan's greeting screen, but she did not forget a face.

There were other figures behind the crew still covered by night's shadow. She'd deal with them soon.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben took stock of his situation for a moment.

"What's it gonna take for you to let us off this rock?" Ben asked. "If it's something I can give..."

He glanced at Shuvin, and back at Cerie and Loki. He looked haggard and drawn. His face sported the massive bruise; he was dirty, with streaks on his face where sweat and his hands had done more injury than help; but more than anything else he looked tired, and beaten. It was a look years in the making, and it was one he wore when he caved to the odds he was always running from.

"...I'll give it. Names, information. It's yours. Just leave me and mine alone."

[Abarai Loki]

It was not until the Selonian was revealed in full, by the lights, that Loki put to bed the notion that they were about to be attacked by a wild beast. The shadow receded, and yet, it did not. She spoke of the will of the Force, and, under any other circumstances, that would've been enough to make him roll his eyes, but, this time, his gaze was fixed. When she rose, it became clear that Shuvin's pale hologram had done her a grave injustice. The metal of the toolbox was hard against his coiling fingers.

The snare closed with the heavy clanking of walkers. There was now only one way off this world, and the way was guarded. To hear her use the captain's name was one thing, but to hear Shuvin's name uttered so casually, it put him on edge. There was power in a name; there was ownership. Even if they were to escape the Empire, today, the names of Ben Merasska and Shuvin Undhi were no longer their own.

Captain Ben was talking. He did not sound scared - that was a good sign. And Loki did not see the look he gave, for he had eyes only for the so-called Imperial Knight. However, his insides, set hard, like duracrete, turned to slush the moment he heard the captain's offer. His words were a knife wound, robbing him of his breath. Before the Selonian could respond, he advanced a step, to close the distance between himself and Captain Ben - close enough to speak, with some discretion.

"Captain Merasska," he said, in a firm undertone, "No demands have been made. What are you doing?"

[Cerie Moreau]

And right behind Loki, Cerie stepped forward with desperate frustration in her mismatched eyes even as they remained locked on the Selonian. Her head angled so that her lips came close to Ben's ear.

"Kid's right, Ben. You can't just fold like a wet wash towel cause that overgrown carpet shark knows how t'stand on two feet."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"You and yours will be my guests, Captain." Vissica replied sharply, cutting off the emerging debate as she slowly approached. "Until I determine the circumstances that have placed you here."

She canted her head momentarily to the human male pup, then returned her attention to the Captain.

"There is no negotiation, Captain. This is a declaration. You have no other..."

The fourth figure made herself plain as she stepped through the threshold. As she whispered something unheard in Captain Merasska's ear, the timbre of Vissica's words fell soft."

"...alternative."

It was her. The feeling that had weighed upon Vissica ever since she'd arrived on the planet now made sense. It was now so clear. For a few seconds, the Selonian stood eerily silent, her black doll eyes fixated on her nemesis. When she spoke, it was almost a whisper.

"Captain s'Ilancy."

[Shuvin Undhi]

Ben didn't look at or to Loki or Cerie as they spoke; he cast his eyes to the side and listened, but didn't otherwise move, like he'd been paralyzed by the eyes of the creature before them.

Shuvin glanced uncertainly at Ben, but didn't otherwise say anything. She trusted him to get them through this, like he'd managed, if barely, to get them through all the troubles they'd gone through before. But there was a vulnerability to him now that she'd not seen before, a fear that stopped him cold instead of galvanized him to run. Maybe it was that he was on his own two feet, staring at it, rather than in Alderaan, safe at the flight controls.

The creature spoke.

"Now there's a problem with that," Ben replied, noticing the Knight's sudden interest in someone behind him. "In that it's until you're satisfied about what we're doin' here we won't be leaving. It's awfully vague. I'm guessin' that if you don't end up satisfied we'll be facing the Empress's justice at the end of that white lightsaber of yours. But I don't know what'll satisfy you, if anything. I could pour my heart out, and at the end of it you'll just up and say that it isn't enough. No incentive for me to cooperate if I'm dyin' either way. Might as well just tell you to kriff off and get it done. But that don't give you what you want, and it'll save you a lot of effort in torturin' and other bad things if you give us somethin' to work with here. You'll get what you want either way, but in one circumstance you have us all dead, and on the other, you'll have some folks who'll spread the word about cooperatin' with an Imperial Knight."

Shuvin blinked, looking in undisguised shock at Ben and his seeming courage, belied by his shaking hands and the slight tremor in his words. He was trying to find an angle, some way to get some sort of distance and safety in the face of this Selonian's danger.

"And that'll be that we can take you at your word."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica barely heard Ben's protestations. She took another careful step forward.

"Captain Merasska, step away from this woman."

[Ben Merasska]

"I have a good idea why you're sayin' that," Ben answered, his hand drifting to his pistol. "And I'm telling you you've got it wrong. She isn't who you think she is."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica took another step, drawing a hand up as if to push aside an invisible curtain. Ben, Shuvin, and Loki each left their feet, tumbling to their right along the duracrete. A brusque removal, but one that only harmed whatever pride the Captain had left.

With the interlopers removed, Vissica took the last two steps. For a moment, she said nothing. Her breath rose and fell slowly, pressing her chest against her cuirass.

"At last."

[Cerie Moreau]

There was a moment that she was frozen in shock, and Cerie felt her heart skip a beat. Her head had snapped in the direction that Ben and the others had been thrown, and she'd found herself at a particularly large loss at what to do next. It was a moment that seemed to go on longer than she wanted, and the blonde forced herself back into movement. Narrowed eyes tracked back to the hulking form that now stood before her, and craning her neck she looked up to meet the inkwell eyes of the Selonian.

Already white knuckles gripped her blasters even tighter, but she made no move to lift them.

Finally, she let out a long breath as resolute determination cast a sheen over one blue eye.

"I've got some bad news for you," she ground out.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The Knight took another step forward. This one quicker and more decisive, in time with a sharp inhalation of breath. Impatience simmered in Vissica's opaque expression as she bared her teeth down at her foe.

"I am uninterested in another pithy exchange of words with you, Captain. No more talk. No more resistance. You will surrender to Imperial custody now, or your companions will pay for your refusal."

[Ben Merasska]

"Uh, excuse me," Ben called out, staggering to his feet. "But the only Captain here is me — whoa!"

Another gesture of the Selonian's hand sent him sprawling again.

[Cerie Moreau]

She stood her ground, doggedly unwilling to give the Selonian any sort of satisfaction that her show of height was putting a waver in her spine. It was, but in the heat of the moment there was a strange, newborn sense of duty to Ben and Shuvin. They had accepted her into their small family, and she wasn't about to let their trust go unfounded. Sure, she was a cheat. She stole her way through the galaxy. But she was also in her own way an honest person when it really mattered.

And now it mattered, and she was being her most honest.

"You got the wrong gal."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

s'Ilancy was mocking her with such a bald-faced lie. Vissica drew in another breath, letting it out sharply.

"You are Loklorien s'Ilancy, Captain of the Alliance and Jedi Master! Don't debase yourself with a lie! Face your accuser with dignity!"

The Selonian closed both of her forepaws over Cerie's head, nearly lifting her off her feet as she pulled the woman close.

"SPEAK THE TRUTH!"

[Cerie Moreau]

The force of both hands, pulling her nearly beyond the height that her toes could give her, was enough to startle her, and with wide eyes Cerie couldn't help but let herself be pulled upwards. Hot, rancid breath washed over her, and the blonde let out a sharp cry of shock even as the gravelly words coated what the encroaching halitosis had missed. Each syllable pulled at her muscles, as though they were trying to strip them from bone.

There was a moment of struggle, even as her voice croaked out an answer.

"I... I ain't... her... "

But there, in the whirlwind of forced obedience, was a spark. It bucked against the order demanded of it, and in desperation Cerie lifted her arms. One looped over a corded forearm to try and grant herself some sort of relief. She still held her blasters, and in a moment of frantic clarity, she shoved the barrel of one of them up under the edge of the Selonian's cuirass where it met the shoulder guard.

The massive hands engulfing her head seemed to draw tighter, and in that instant she pulled the trigger.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

There was pain. Some of it physical, but something else that cut deeper. As Vissica dropped Cerie free with a pained yip, she slinked backward into a low stance. The Knight ripped her greatsaber from it's scabbard with her uninjured arm, firing the growling white blade to life as she severed the pretender's weapon clean through the trigger guard.

A wild and unsure look fixed in Vissica's eyes. I ain't her. Despite everything her eyes told her to be true, the Selonian knew that Cerie had finally told her the truth. It wasn't simply that Cerie had lied. Everything about her was a lie. This ruse, this masquerade. Everything about this pretender was blasphemy.

Fire wicked through the nerves of her left arm. Cerie's shot had punched into flesh, and every movement brought sobering pain. Vissica dominated the sensation, raising her paw to meet it's counterpart to complete a two-handed grip at her blade.

"Lies!"

Vissica shouted, her voice echoing off the hangar walls. The white of her greatsaber dipped, it's tapered point burning into the duracrete as she dragged it across the ground. Cerie barked a pair of shots at the advancing Selonian, which were swatted away a moment before her remaining blaster was wrenched from her hand, nearly pulling her off her feet in the process.

"Deceptions!"

A bruising force suddenly collapsed around Cerie's throat, drawing her up and clearing her feet from the ground.

"You are a pretender! An impostor!"

Vissica's breath had quickened into a feverish snarl. Her torso heaved with barely contained rage.

"Where is she?"

The strangling hold on Cerie relented only a fraction. This was her last chance to make right the dishonor of her treachery.

"WHERE IS SHE??!!!"

Even now, Vissica could feel the presence close by. She had to be close. She had to!

[Abarai Loki]

There was a low rumble, like an unbridled wind rushing to meet the shore. It punctuated a disturbance in the Force, that rolled towards the Selonian at speed, and swept her up in its invisible tide.

Loki rose from his dusty knee, and brought a hand to his chest. A simple chain was unearthed from the fabric of his shirt, and between his fingers, light danced over the surface of something small, and precious. The crystal came free with a snap. At his feet, the toppled toolbox unlatched itself, and belched several weathered chunks of metal into the air, where they neatly aligned themselves with his outstretched fist. When he opened his hand, the components came together in unison, turning and locking into place around the floating crystal. The newly-formed lightsaber was then plucked out of the air.

"Captain Merasska, get to your ship."

The blade sprung forth with a hiss. It was the release of a breath held too long. In the end, the question of taking action had not been a question, at all, but merely a matter of time. As an unassuming traveller, the lives of Shuvin, Cerie, and Ben were not his to gamble, and that had left him in a position of uncertainty. Until now. The so-called Imperial Knight had made her threats without hesitation, or ambiguity, and he would respond in kind. And, in that decision, there was liberation. He advanced patiently across the hangar, the cool blue light of his weapon following him, like a winter's frost.

His voice was raised to address the Selonian.

"Tell me, dog, on what authority do you act?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

The surprise was complete and total. Vissica caught the brunt of the force impact as it lifted her off her feet. She tumbled head over hindpaws, only arresting her movement by driving the shining white blade of her lightsaber into the duracrete floor. As the blade sank into a scar of orange slag, the Selonian braced behind it with hindpaws and tail, coming to a halt just a few strides in front of Alderaan's closed ingress hatch. The Knight panted, both hands gripped at the pommel of her weapon. Her dark eyes were nearly round with surprise.

The pup. It was him! It hadn't been Captain s'Ilancy she'd been sensing. The wickedness of the deception was total!

Even as the pup spoke to him as if he were an equal, Vissica divided her attentions between the prodigal force user and Captain s'Ilancy's doppelganger. The disappointment was crushing. With a rumble, Vissica stood upright. She wrenched her blade out of the ground.

"I serve the Imperial throne, boy. You would do well to respect that authority and surrender. If you refuse, you and your friends may not survive."

[Cerie Moreau]

The sudden relief was a godsend, and Cerie had fallen to the ground in a near-heap. On both knees, the blonde sucked in lungfulls of air as her free hand came up to massage her throat. The aching muscles cried a whimpering sound to her inner ear, and with a hacking cough, she finally lifted her head. The kid - Loki - he'd spoken angrily, advancing on the Selonian with...

... with a lightsaber in hand.

Another draw of air into her strained lungs, and with her chest heaving, she lurched up to her feet like a drunken shockboxer. Fresh anger flashed in narrowing eyes, and her gaze tracked from Loki to the hunched form of the Selonian, but she did nothing other than sway slightly on her feet as fingers did their best to banish the feeling of those phantom fingers from her neck.

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin sat up, her eyes wide and mouth open. Things just kept getting more and more crazy, and she was starting to have a hard time dealing with it all.

"Shuvin."

She jumped, and glanced up at Ben, who was looking at Loki and Vissica with a grim look on his face.

"Uh, Ben," she whispered. "Loki's got a..."

"Uh huh."

"And that Selonian's got a..."

"Yep."

"Does that mean Loki's an Imperial Knight too?"

Ben blinked, and glanced at Shuvin incredulously. She smiled and laughed a bit self-consciously.

"Dumb question, huh?"

"Not so much when you think about it," Ben grunted. "Shuvin, I need you to get us into the ship."

"Uh, Ben, if you hadn't noticed, it's crowded over there. And what about you?"

Ben shot Shuvin a grin.

"I trust you'll find a way. I'm gonna get Cerie and then we're gettin' off this rock before something else rears its ugly head."

Shuvin nodded, feeling more at ease and centered in the face of Ben's own cool.

"What about Loki?"

Ben paused. "Looks like he can take care of himself for the moment. We'll see about him when I get our little family out of the way of that Imperial Knight."

He crouched, his blaster pistol in his hand, and made a bee line for Cerie, who was standing and wheezing visibly. Shuvin watched him for a second, and then looked over at Loki and Selonian, wondering just how in the hells she was going to open the entry ramp without catching attention onto herself.

[Abarai Loki]

"I serve the Imperial throne, boy. You would do well to respect that authority and surrender. If you refuse, you and your friends may not survive."

"There is no negotiation. This is a declaration," he began, coolly, repeating her words, "We are leaving this world, and there is nothing you can do to stop us."

Already, there was movement, stirrings on the periphery of his vision where the captain and Shuvin were making plans. Cerie was now free of the beast's hold, which made him the focus of her attention. Good. Let her come. In his mind's eye, the battle was underway, painted in broad and powerful strokes. Yes, she was strong, and her reach was long, but it was her aggression that kept him vigilant. There had been a taste of it, when she spoke to Cerie, an explosion of ferocious anger. That was where the danger lay. Still. Let her come.

He squeezed the lightsaber in his hand. There was reassurance in its familiar weight, and the blade song resonated, like a second heartbeat inside his chest. The smile was drowned before it could reach the surface. Instead, as the distance closed between them, he considered his towering enemy with fitting disregard.

"Your authority evaporated the moment you drew that charlatan's blade in front of me."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"If that is what you believe, then you lack the imagination to envision the depths I'm willing to travel to do the Empress's bidding."

Vissica's left paw separated only briefly from it's supporting grip on her weapon. Two thick digits pointed past the Jedi. There was a click, then a low mechanical hum and a rumble as the hangar bay doors began to close.

"I sense nothing of the dark side within you. Are you a Jedi?"

[Abarai Loki]

"I am not."

The symbolism of the closed hanger bay doors was not lost on him. This Selonian was making a commitment to the task ahead of her, and would welcome no interruption, be it friend or foe. Loki was glad of those terms: one Imperial Knight was preferable to one Imperial Knight and a squad of storm troopers. A few paces more, and he would be within range of her obscene blade. His advance continued.

"Suffice it to say I am your enemy."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

There was no reason for Vissica to question Loki's statement. Jedi or not, he used the force and held a lightsaber against Imperial authority. That would be enough.

"We understand each other perfectly."

The Selonian approached, metering her steps with careful placement. Her tail raised, clearing the ground above a pucker of slagged duracrete as the red glow faded from the scar. She spread her grip along the length of the greatsaber, her leading hand tightening behind the emitter housing as her trailing hand rested its fleshy palm against the pommel, fingers slightly relaxed.

Accepting the initiative, Vissica pressed forward with a sweep of her blade. There was enough force to end this whelp if he was foolish, but the Knight had no such expectation. She wished to see his blade in reaction. It would inform her.

[Abarai Loki]

Loki took a knee, and bowed his head just in time. So close was the ominous hum of the passing blade that the hairs on the back of his neck stood on end, electrified. No time was wasted in following up, however, and, as he rose, his upended weapon climbed in a sweeping arc to draw a line from groin to sternum on the looming alien. At this distance, her wounds would be superficial, but with one step forward, he turned it into a killing stroke.

[Ben Merasska]

It took a moment, but being reasonably sure that the Selonian's full attention was on Loki, Ben scurried the rest of the way to Cerie and put a hand on her shoulder.

"Cerie, whoa! Hold on!" Ben ducked her reflexive haymaker and had to back up from the two successive follow-ups. When she started to collapse, he slid in and held her up. "C'mon. We're getting the hell out of here. I promise, no adventures... for at least two weeks. Maybe even three if I can wrangle it. Can you stand?"

[Cerie Moreau]

Chest heaving with her kneejerk exertions, Cerie gave Ben a wide-eyed, almost feral stare. She opened her mouth as if to speak, but only really succeeded in baring her teeth as a wild, broken gaze tracked away from Ben and to the Selonian. Still clutching the one Westar she still had, the blonde watched as Loki moved in with his blade. Held up by Ben, she did her best to push away and stand under her own power.

"Damn stinkmink," came the growl from under her breath.

[Ben Merasska]

Ben couldn't help but laugh.

"Too true. Now let's get out of here before things get even more complicated, yeah?"

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Okay Shuvin," the Togruta whispered to herself as she crouched behind a crate and looked over the bay. "How're you gonna do this?"

Another quick glance at Ben and Cerie, and then Loki and the Selonian, almost had her panic before she got herself under control again.

She couldn't get to the entry ramp; not with Miss Beastie and Mister Jedi duking it out right next to it.

How else could she get in? There was the entry ramp, the cargo lift, the dorsal hatch... the dorsal hatch! Easy to get into, and far away from the buzzing bright blades of the battling... uh, battlers.

Shuvin giggled at her mental alliteration.

So she'd have to climb onto the ship.

Taking off at a run, Shuvin clambered on top of another crate, this one butted up against the wall, and found a handhold. With a grunt of effort and a mental exhortation to work out more after this, she pulled herself up onto a ledge and shimmied over to where the gap between the ship and the wall was the shortest. Even there though the gap was too wide to jump. Thankfully, there were pulley cables hanging from the ceiling. With a grimace of distaste at the amount of physical effort this was requiring, Shuvin steeled herself and jumped, hands stretching out to grab the nearest cable.

"Oh shit!" she gasped, feeling herself falling down the cable. "Ow, ow, ow. Damn it, my hands, this hurts, stupid Ben, stupid whatever she is."

She let herself hang for a moment, before using her legs to start swinging closer to Alderaan. With one final heave, she let go, and tumbled onto the ship and lay there spread eagle, looking up at the ceiling of the bay.

"Gotta get that hatch open, c'mon girl, you can do this!"

Huffing and panting, she staggered over to the hatch and knelt beside it to access the locks.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Loki's swift counterstrike met only air.

Vissica followed her blade's trajectory with liquid movement, leaping horizontally before tucking her flexible spine into a roll that arrested once with a pounding of her tail on the ground. Counterbalancing against it, the Selonian shrugged her double-handed weapon skyward before slamming it into the young human's waiting guard with bone-shaking force.

From that point of tension, she observed her opponent, with more than just her eyes. She felt his presence through the force. A presence she could no longer deny the source. It had a truth to it that gave clarity. That clarity enlivened her own focus. Fed it. This pup was more than he appeared to be.

It was time to break the stalemate. Vissica uncoiled the spring of her long frame, putting her enemy on his heels as she gathered for a second cleave.

[Abarai Loki]

The power behind the strike exceeded his expectations. No pretence was exercised in his retreat, a single staggered step was taken to bleed the momentum from the mighty blow, and to open up a fraction of a second for thought. Behind the looming shape of his enemy, there was movement, vague shadows slipping from cover to cover, closing in on Alderaan. He didn't dare break eye contact with the advancing beast, before him, just one glance would betray his friends. They needed time, and space.

As the Imperial Knight readied another hefty swing, Loki backtracked on nimble feet, and hopped just in time for it to pass by. Attempting to match her strength-for-strength was a fool's errand, and he was not prepared to expend energy meeting her blade head-on. It was in smart counterplay where his advantage lay. With a fierce crackle, lightsabers met, icy blue on immaculate white. Loki pushed, adding extra momentum to the end of the Knight's broad cleave. And now, he was inside her defence. Spitting like flint, his blade travelled the length of its angry counterpart, and angled itself straight for his enemy's heart.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Black almond eyes widened at the realization of the sudden shift. Vissica slipped away from her offensive, her torso whipping back with fluid agility. Her Selonian flexibility afforded just enough space so that Loki's passing strike only shaved a vapor trail into her chest fur. The Knight snorted in irritation as the boy-pup's face passed hers. She snapped her toothy muzzle at the nearest passing ear, catching only the air behind it as the fighters parted once more.

Vissica sprang back upright with a tail thrust, an annoyed rumble in her chest at having nearly been undone by a show of bombastic acrobatics. She rolled her shoulders, then scarred the floor between them with a frustrated swipe of her heavy blade. A curtain of embers wicked into the air between the two combatants.

”Makashi." she growled with cool distate, giving the floor another welting as she paced in a wider, more careful orbit.

[Cerie Moreau]

As soon as she moved to push him away in an effort to stand of her own accord, Cerie pulled him right back, using him to steady her own shaky legs. Her free arm wrapped around Ben as she leaned against him. She couldn't help the deep, almost wheezing breaths, and she pulled in a long breath in the hopes that such an action would banish the feeling of those massive, meaty fingers around her neck.

"You-" she coughed, then spit out a gob of saliva, "... you got any ideas to get us around these two?"

[Ben Merasska]

"Yes, actually," he said, not moving his eyes from the duelling forms of Loki and the Selonian. "It's called be very, very quiet."

His eyes drifted from the fight to Alderaan. Though not quite as close as they’d been moments before, they were still far too close for Ben’s comfort.

“We can’t get to the ramp. Not with them so close,” he breathed, suddenly aware of the fact that he and Cerie were standing out in the open while a kid fought an Imperial Knight. “So either they move away, or we find another way in.”

He suddenly smiled and nodded to the ship.

“Or the ship moves.”

A light had come on in the cockpit.

[Abarai Loki]

”Makashi."

Loki regarded his opponent with the most tepid surprise.

"You are not entirely unschooled. Good."

The word, spat like a curse from the muzzle of this Imperial bloodhound, fell upon his ears with the same foreign peculiarity as a five syllable word that tumbled from the lips of a toddler. It pleased him to know his opponent was not ignorant of the weapon she wielded, nor of the inherent art of its use. And that meant a potential challenge, beyond the observable size and strength of this... Imperial Knight.

Against his every instinct, he remained still, and studied the person stood before him. There had been talk of the Empire training up Force sensitives to do its bidding long before they were given a name, long before his arrival at Ossus, with the Wheel, and the Jedi. Back when his own sense of self, of purpose, had been unshakeable. Now, they had a name, and he had none. And yet, enemies they remained. In that, he was resolute. In that, he took refuge, both from himself, and the thousand questions that haunted him. Rare was the opportunity to meet one's sworn enemy, face-to-face, and rarer still, the opportunity to seek from them answers.

"In the name of the Empire, you have been trained in the ways of the Force to advance its designs. The deigns of your Empress. Tell me, do you believe in the cause, or is it your purpose to only serve?"

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Her opponent held his ground, and Vissica reciprocated, keeping herself between the enemy force adept and his means of escape.

"I serve my Queen, who in turn serves the Empress."

The brief stay of combat brought back the dull pain of her blaster shot, and the Selonian carefully adjusted her grip on her blade to compensate for it.

"They share a common interest in galactic order, to put an end to lawlessness such as this." she made a vague gesture that was to refer to the day's encounter with the rebel camp.

"Who are you?" curiosity that couldn't be delayed any longer usurped Vissica's conversation, driving an inquisitive flick in her tail.

"You are better trained than your years should allow."

[Abarai Loki]

"I once thought myself a Jedi. I was mistaken," His answer was frank, and strangely effortless. Under any other circumstances, it was a confession that would go unthought, let alone unuttered. Combat, however, was sacred. "My purpose is singular and you will find my training reflects that."

An ambiguous answer, were it not for the fact that he had already placed himself between this agent of the Empire and her quarry. In that, his intentions were clear. He remained still, his lightsaber raised in silent vow. All around, the night air hummed with violent potential, aching to be unleashed. The time for words was running out. And so little he knew of the one he sought to kill.

"So... it is duty that compels you to raise a Jedi weapon in the service of your masters. I suspect the overwhelming hypocrisy of this is not lost on you. Or are you entirely ignorant of what becomes of your kind when the Empire no longer has use of you?"

[Cerie Moreau]

Her eyes followed his nod, and as her gaze swept over the ship in the distance, she too saw the light coming to life in the cockpit.

Shuvin!

That beautiful, chipper-than-all-hells Togruta had managed to squirrel herself into just the right place.

Cerie let out a long sigh through still-recovering lungs, and it tumbled from her lips like some hungry Hutt eager for another handful of paddie frogs.

"I could kiss that girl right now," she managed to cough out.

[Shuvin Undhi]

"Okay Shuvin, okay, so we flip this switch here, and push this button here, and what does this light mean? Oh I hope it's nothing bad, I mean, I like that greenish color. It's nice. Soothing."

Shuvin felt Alderaan lurch underneath her as the engines came to life.

"Please don't be dead everyone," she whispered, worrying her bottom lip and standing at the pilot's station to get a better view.

"Shuvin! Well done!"

"Ah! Oh, it's you Cap'n. Scared me half to death. I'll adjust so you and Cerie and Loki can get on board, just hurry!"

[Ben Merasska]

"We're not out of the sarlacc pit yet, Shuvin," Ben said into his commlink, his eyes now fixed on Loki and Vissica's duel in the foreground while he and Cerie shambled their way around to the ship while remaining out of the way. "Whole place was locked down, so the bay doors will need to be reactivated and opened. Get the shields up and Cerie'll be up there to help you man the turrets. Now that the ship's running, don't think the Imperials will be just sitting by waiting for us to launch."

"Got it!"

Ben glanced over at Cerie.

"I know you're hurtin' right now, but I need you to get in there and keep Shuvin grounded and ready to get us out of here the second we all get on board, no matter what else happens. I'm gonna sneak around to the door controls and get them opened. We don't have a lot of time; the Imps'll have teams in here any second, and I don't fancy our chances if we're not in the ship."

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

"The Jedi were guardians of the old order. For that, they are worthy of respect. But they betrayed their Oath. That cannot be undone."

Vissica tightened her grip on her blade, the skin on her webbed knuckles drawing taut with tension.

"A Selonian does not betray her Oath."

Faint mechanical sounds emanating from the ship beyond registered in her small ears, which twitched slightly to triangulate the noise. She had lost sight of Captain Merasska and his comrades.

"It is all she is born with, and it is the last thing that remains."

The time to act was now, every sense was telling her to strike. Vissica pounced forward, presenting her blade to rebuff this ex-Jedi. The energetic edges screamed in a harmony but for just a beat, as her more nimble opponent moved with and into her motion. Vissica separated her grip, splaying a webbed hand to draw the force into Loki in mid-contortion, sending him pinwheeling back against his own built momentum.

In that clearance, the Knight coiled, then sprang skyward to clear an impossible distance towards Alderaan.

[Cerie Moreau]

Biting her lip at Ben's ask, Cerie only nodded as she steeled herself. One last gentle rub at her neck, and the cast a last look to the Selonian. Otherwise occupied with Shuvin's new toy-buddy. Shuvin's buddy. Friend. Pal. Whatever he was. He had a lightsabre though, and that was waaaaay above her paygrade in terms of getting involved.

But at least she could squirrel herself across the bay toward Alderaan.

Just in time, of course, to catch in her peripheral vision the sight of the Imperial Queen of Bad Breath sail through the air on a trajectory that would intersect with Alderaan.

She didn't slow her pace... rather it quickened as she hoped to beat that furred accordion to the prize.

"Ben!!!"

[Shuvin Undhi]

Shuvin, on later retellings of this adventure, was not in the least ashamed to say that she screamed when the Selonian landed on the glass of the cockpit, her white laser sword somehow gleaming and setting off little flares in the transparisteel of the viewport.

"Holy mother of fucking krayt dragons!" she screeched, jerking badly in her shock. With her hands still on the yoke of the ship, Alderaan swayed as well, the starboard edge of the ship banging roughly into the docking bay's wall. Unfortunately, the motion didn't unseat the Imperial Knight, whose seemingly empty black eyes fixed on her with baleful intent.

Shuvin, for her part, couldn't look away as the white blade was raised into the air. She knew that it would come down and shear open the cockpit, but her mind was blank from fear and shock. She only had time to think, to pray, to the one thing she trusted most in the galaxy.

'Ben!'

As if in answer to her prayer, blaster bolts lanced past the viewport, forcing the laser sword from its attack to a defense, parrying a few into the hull and viewport of the ship, and others into the walls and ceiling of the docking bay. She glanced to the side, and saw Ben standing in the open floor of the bay, his pistol held in both hands and trained on the Knight and still firing short bursts at the Selonian with surprising accuracy. Given a moment to recover from the sight of her imminent death and the shift in the fight, Shuvin focused and turned the ship to face the docking bay doors.

"Shuvin!"　Ben's voiced echoed from the comms. "The cargo lift! Lower the lift and get Cerie on board!"

"Right!" she answered, and smashed the button on the console, and smiled with satisfaction as the indicator light flashed green.

"Where's Loki?" She asked, her eyes flitting back up to the Imperial, who was still batting away a near constant stream of blaster fire from Ben's pistol.

"Worry about him when big and hairy isn't trying to carve its way into the ship!" was Ben's reply, and while she wanted to argue, she couldn't atually find fault in the logic, though there was something in Ben's voice that gave her a smidgen of worry.

[Matatek Sel Vissica]

Vissica's teeth bared in irritation at the sudden flash of resistance from the previously-meek Captain Merraska. She deflected his shots in an unusually-deferential way, opting not to return his bolts to sender, but taking care not to.

"Enough!"

The Selonian Knight reached a paw out, and Ben's next shot veered wildly off course as he felt something unseen wrench at the blaster, twisting it in his grip severely enough to cause pain if the human tried to retain control. As she did so, Vissica plunged her saber into the canopy hull plating, causing a shaft of white heat and a torrent of sparks to drop a scant few feet behind Shuvin.