What if...?

[Nupraptor]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Wordlessly, the guard bowed to him.

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

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

"Yes? What is it?"

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

"Rise, Lord Havok."

Complying, he stood straight up and was quiet.

"What is this news you bring me?"

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

The Emperor waved his hand, obviously not caring.

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

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

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

Again, Havok nodded.

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

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

[The Lounge Lizard]

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

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

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

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

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

It had been so long.

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

[Gormul Hyfe]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lieutenant Ogre]

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

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

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

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

[Darth Turbogeek]

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

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

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

--

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

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

"Good Evening Dr" the warden said

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The warden also left not long after.

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

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

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

Ogre...is that you?

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

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

[Lieutenant Ogre]

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

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

Ogre answers his Master. ::

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

[Sith Summoner]

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

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

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

Enter...

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

Yes what is it???

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

Thank you ensign...

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

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

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

**turning to LL...**

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

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

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

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

[Nupraptor]

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

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

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

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

"My Lord..."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Yes, father. As you wish."

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

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

[Lilaena DeVille]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Lady Mara Jade]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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


[c]<HR WIDTH="400" SIZE="4">[/c]

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

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

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

[Darth Malice]

SSD Executor (0.5 light years from Taanab)

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Tarkin held out his hand for the datapad.

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

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

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

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

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

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

[Darth Malice]

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

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

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

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

At that moment, the universe opened up to him.

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

"Two minutes to hyperspace jump, Admiral."

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

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

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

[Dara Shadowtide]

In Deep Space:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

:: Dara smiles ::

[Jedi Lounge Lizard]

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

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

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

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

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

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

:: LL stared off into space ::

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

~~flashback~~

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

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

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

~~flashback~~

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

~~flashback~~

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

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

LL: Impossible!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Nupraptor: Now die for me, Jedi.

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

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

Leia.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Leia: LL, can you walk?

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

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

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

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

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

~~end flashback~~

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

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

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

LL: I know.

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

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

LL: Leia is dead.

[Navaria Tarkin]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

A FEW DAYS LATER ON THE DEATHSTAR

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

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

[Lieutenant Ogre]

Hoth System

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Ho…………………How did it happen?”

[Lt Commander Pax]

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

Come...

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

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

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