"You have the look of your mother."

"You never knew my mother."

"You really think that boy?"

Sarek stared cooly and hardly at the man, trying to read some hint of a lie off the man's face, but he seemed to be telling the truth by all appearances.

"How would you have known my mother?" he demanded, stating it a bit more harshly than he meant to.

The old pirate let out a long, belly-filled laugh.

"If you've got to ask that then you've got a lot of learning ahead of you," he said with a hack and a wheeze.

Sarek narrowed his eyes, glowing red pupils dialating and decreasing in size as he watched the man, handling his torch simply as if his hand were free.

He led the younger man back toward the book case, touching aside cobwebs as he went.

The young Fearsons shuddered as he gazed around the ancient library. It stood at least forty feet up, and was hundreds of feet wide. Several wooden chairs were discarded and tipped, tables broken, and much life had been evicted as they passed by, everything from the smallest spiders to enormous lizards.

Sarek would have sworn he'd seen a womprat or two scurry through the shadows, though this was not Tatooine, and he'd never heard of them anywhere else.

Though that did not stop him from keeping his hands gripping the blades at his sides tucked gingerly and carefully in his belt. If need be he would draw them and cut apart whatever came out of those shadows.

Aros had informed him well of the vehemency of the creatures who lurked in the corridors of the vast complex.

"There's big things in there...keep yourself well armed with them blades boy, I got me a blaster and I still don't think that'll be enough," he'd said, adding to the young man's fears.

It was not so much that Sarek was afraid of a fight. Far from it, he'd grown up fighting, from indigineous wildlife to pirates and scum who would have his name.

They reached one of many book cases that adorned the ancient walls, though most of the books had been discarded or destroyed, most of which they had stepped over in the process of reaching the bookshelf.

It is a tragedy...who knows the endless tales of knowledge that are bestowed on this very spot.

Aros rummaged his free hand across the book shelf as though he were looking for something, though he was careful not to let his hands get anywhere near dark holes. He had explained very thoroughly that the arachnids here were extremely poisonous.

A single bite and you would be dead before you realized you were bit.

That had thrown the already arachnophobic Sarek on edge.

"Aha, here we are," Aros finally said triumphantly as he reached up and grabbed one of the books. He adorned it gently, as though he were holding a newborn, and stepped back away from the bookshelf.

Sarek eyed him curiously though did not voice any kind of concern. Aros had obviously been here before.

The old pirate opened the book slowly, and despite all the care and consideration he took into it pages still fell out. Though he did not seem to notice.

He brushed off some dust and flipped by a few more pages, and all his searching was completed with one satisfied grin. He looked up at Sarek.

"What is the date today boy?" Aros demanded suddenly, throwing him off guard. He thought for a moment.

"Month Four Day-," Aros cut him off with a wave of the torch.

"No no no boy, think, Ethisian calendar."

Sarek blinked, they had not gone over Ethisian chronical training in a long time. Why did the planet's calendar have to do with anything. But he would not argue.

He thought back and tried to make the connection.

"Tilis the second," he responded after a moment or two of mental digging.

"Perfect," Aros responded, flipping a couple more pages.

Finally, giving up on trying to turn the pages with one hand, he handed the torch to Sarek, who decided to reaffirm his sense of caution by drawing one of his curved khukris.

Aros was too into the book to note any caution of any kind and he began reading intently. "Boy you're not gonna' believe this."




"Boy you're not gonna' believe this," Aros said suddenly, nudging him awake. Sarek snapped out of hos dose, staring up at his friend, his father-figure. No, he's more like an uncle he commented mentally. He's not authoritative, but he's also guiding and very concerned about my well being.

He blinked the last bits of sleep from his eyes, reaffirming this with a firm rub with his knuckles. He stretched for a moment and then blinked.

"What's that Aros?" he asked.

The pirate pointed out the transparisteel viewport, and Sarek stared the intoxicating view of Ryloth's central spaceport. The gold, red, and green texture that was the atmosphere of Ryloth simply took Sarek's breath away, and he felt as though he would gasp just at the mere sight.

Though that was not what Aros had been pointing at.

He was pointing at the flames bursting all across it, at the starship hovering just over the planet.

What the hell is that?

It was four hundred meters and oddly shaped with a wing of TIE fighters flying around it as though they were in some kind of an honor guard...or a battle escort.

There was some super-heated, glowing wreckage surrounding the four hundred meter craft - which was oddly shaped as though bulbuous, like a Loronar Bulb Fish - though who it belonged to was impossible to tell.

"What is that all about?" Sarek asked frantically, suddenly feeling his composure collapse like a star going nova.

"I don't know...must be Warlord Verg," Aros commented dryly, as though this were nothing more than a poorly scripted Holo Drama. "That's a Loronar-Class Strike Cruiser boy, the kind your daddy loves."

Sarek rolled his eyes at the comment about his father.

He tried to think of himself as detached from Emperor Fearsons. He had only recently met the man, he had only recently found out that he was not Sarek Veele, but Sarek Fearsons, direct son of the emperor.

And only a week ago had the emperor actually accepted that he was his son.

"What's it doing harassing Ryloth?" he demanded suddenly, trying to get back on subject. He was in on mood for a lecture on ship types.

"Well it could be the same reason the emperor wants to set up such a trade route on Ryloth. With them Demosthesian @#%$ runnin' Thyferra, everyone's looking for some kinda' replacement to bacta."

"Ryll kor."

"Now you're thinking' boy."

Sarek clenched his fists tightly.

He hated the prospect that people were being forced for medical supplies. He had watched via the HoloNet the absolute horror that was being instilled on some of the Outer Rim planets because the Demosthesians would not freely distribute bacta.

Selling at high prices was one thing. Cutting it off entirely was something else entirely.

Varn is finding itself with an economical deprivation becaues of their lack of bacta. People are dying from the plagues the Hammers of Xilen all place down there.

Sarek had practically begged his father to try to liberate Thyferra, to redistribute the bacta properly. Though the prospect of doing nothing seemed harrowing and atrocious, when put into context he certainly understood.

Seti Ashar is a madman. He would pully everything he had to Thyferra to stop people from getting bacta. He's a monster, he would probably detonate all the caches before letting my father get his hands on them.

That was a disturbing thought.

Apparently Ashar had already poisoned bacta and sent it in to Tholatin, fortunately the security bearau had caught it before it was distributed.

I couldn't imagine the devastation to the mere civilian life therein. And what if they had put it in the same storage as clean bacta?

The thought was not one Sarek wanted to consider.

"Best not pay too much heed to it. Verg's probably just launching an attack to let the Twi'leks know he's still boss around here," Aros said calmly. "Don't get your ass in a bunch."

"I'm trying...but it's frustrating that the emperor isn't doing anything."

"Oh he is, that's what ye' don't seem to understand." Sarek cocked an eyebrow and stared across at the old man.

"Pardon?"

"Ye heard me. He's trying to keep this Ashar at bay, how is he supposed to do that if he's chasing down warlords left an' right? Verg'll be dealt with, that's what this whole operation is about, remember? Setting up trade and defense."

Sarek shrugged and sat back in his seat, blowing out a deep-felt sigh.

"I just wish there was more we could do."

"I know laddy, I know."

Sarek found himself once again in sheer awe at the beauty that seemed almost divine as they entered the atmosphere of Ryloth. He even allowed himself to forget the damning warship just outside the planet - which Aros had assured him was only here to get a shipment of Ryll kor.

The entire world seemed to come up to greet them as they came to land, and the skies were splashed with the paints and pastels of the gods. The young man never wanted this to end.

Fortunately the ship had to move in rather slowly due to the trafficking concerns involving Verg's strike cruiser, which made perfect sense. And it was not like he was going to complain, the sight here was simply perfect.

Aros seemed less than impressed, even a little uneasy. That did not come as a surprise to Sarek, the man was the only surviving Mugaari pirate, a band of notorious scoundrels who had put even the Rineeki to shame.

He had personally raided Ryloth for slaves and goods without question, slaughtering all in his path.

Though he had definitely had a conversion, and Sarek had seen the better side of him, he was not sure how the Twi'leks would take him.

And if they show hostility toward one of our ambassadors then the entire operation will be shot to hell in a handbasket faster than I care to consider.

And millions of lives are at stake here.

That caused Sarek to frown. He did not like the prospect of holding the lives of thousands in his hands. He had grown up his whole life believing he was the heir to a dead house on Averam, which was fine by him. He was taught to wield a khukri so that he could defend himself, he was shown his way around the galaxy, which was fine.

Now he finds out he is heir to one of the largest and most successful empires in the galaxy and is dealing with the lives of more people than he'd ever even seen.

The risks were too high.

The most perilous decision he'd made his whole life was whether or not to jump off a cliff to avoid a gundark. And even then it had not been that high of a cliff, with a pool of water at the bottom.

Why do I want to decide whether or not millions will live or die?

He thought it interesting and almost ironic that living a simple life could decide whether or not these people died, could even decide if his father remained emperor of what was rightfully his.

The fact that Aros had spent most of his life stealing ships would have such an impact on something so proportionate made Sarek seriously wonder. Did all actions decide someone's fate in the end?

Did even the slightest action risk the greatest entemperment in the future?

It really began seeming that way.

Though his thoughts were broken as he heard a strange howling and wailing that was somehow familiar off in the distance. He spared a glance out the transparisteel cockpit, and found his jaw slack and was surprised it hadn't hit the floor.

Four TIE fighters were flying in a rather sloppy pattern toward their craft, but sloppiness or not did not minimize their danger. If four of them wanted to play tag with the shuttle they were in then that was it, they would be gone and vaped into little atoms before they could complain.

Not good.

"Maybe they're going to just fly right by us..." Sarek suggested, though rather unconvincingly.

Who was he kidding? The TIEs were looking right at them. Aros certainly was not convinced.

"Take cover boy," he suggested, though both knew it would be a futile gesture.

So Sarek felt he might as well watch before he went down in a burning glaze of fire and ash. I wonder how the meperor would have responded to such a thing.... but that was foolish...he'd have had an entire honor guard with him to do away with just such a thing.

There was nothing they could do they both knew. They were in a lambda shuttle, which gave up manuevering and speed for shields and luxuary. The pilot was a civilian so he probably did not know any manuevers with which to dodge at least semi-professional pilots.

They were as good as dead.

Aros, deciding to at least hear what was being said before he died, reached over and flipped on the comm-link set up so that the passengers could commune freely.

"What are you doing? We had an agreement...you wouldn't be shooting the civilians," came the jarbled response in the Rylothian accent.

"Save it Vares'ick," a deeply accented Imperial voice shot back, almost boastfully,"we need the target practice."

"But the arrangement!" the Twi'lek pleaded.

"Is still intact...these ones gave up their 'civilian' status by entering Ryloth as we were passing through."

"Damn Imperial scum."

"I advise you watch yourself Vares'ick, if you wish to keep the spaceport intact."

Aros turned a stare on Sarek. This would incite a war that could very possibly bring about the loss of the Jutraalian empire. The emperor had lost everything dear to him, he would strike back at Verg with great vengeance for the loss of his own son.

And that would enable Ashar to launch an assault on nearby Jutraalian systems.

The Jutraalian Empire would collapse because of one little cocky warlord and his pilots wanting to play target practice.

Sarek seemed to be taking his imminent doom awfully well, which was surprising for Aros. He had seen grown men kick and scream moments before their demise, had seen great heroes shed many tears as their last moments were spent.

Sarek truly did have noble blood in him.

And they both fully expected their demise to come with the brilliant white and orange flash that came.

Though when they opened their eyes they were still there, observing as what was left of one TIE crumbled and screamed toward the ground. The others scattered like Diles with the light turned on, fleeing in every direction to escape the sudden hail of laserfire that was absorbing them.

Sarek's eyes went wide with excitement, his entire body tingling over as the adrenaline began to splash over him. Someone had come to his rescue!

A group of strange looking starfighters, something that looked almost like a joke with a TIE fighter's ball cockpit and an X-Wing's s-foils, dove in and out of the TIE fighter lines, dropping and rolling, spitting out laser fire and pulling back in manuevers that dizzied even Sarek as he watched.

Aros stood and stepped over to the viewport, watching in awe as the fighters flew literal circles around the three surviving TIE fighters.

There were only three of these mysterious X-wing-TIE fighter hybrids, but their pilots were obviously immensely superior. And Sarek remembered the lessons that Aros had taught him, telling him how TIE models of fighters had severe problems in atmospheres due to their ion engines, lack of repulsors, and frail forms.

These hybrids were showing every flaw in Sienar Fleet Systems' design in the TIE fighter.

Every now and again one would manage to turn and fire back, sputtering out rapid waves of gold-green blasts that were easily dodged.

One hybrid craft ducked down low, heading toward the rocky ground below in a perilous dive, one TIE fighter screaming down after it. He pulled up sharply suddenly, his fighter giving very little resistance with gravity and propulsion, speeding the craft up seconds before smashing into the razor-like stones below.

The TIE was not so fortunate. The bulky wings had gotten in the way, and pulling up was a near impossibility. The pilot managed to at least point the cockpit upward, but gravity had gotten the best of him, and the rear was smashed into the ground.

It went skidding along, electricity and flame vomitting up like geysers as it went, before the whole craft finally detoned.

Meanwhile a second of the hybrid craft was already dogging down one of the other TIEs. It tried desperately to swerve to avoid his red-gold blasts, and it managed to get away from a few.

Though in the end the superior craft and pilot managed to pelt him several times, igniting the craft in flame and throwing it in a death-spin to the ground.

The last one was fleeing as fast as it could, leaving ions in its wake as it fled with all haste toward the atmosphere. It had apparently reallocated all its energy to engines, it was practically begging for escape.

But the fighter would never make it.

A slot on one of the hybrid fighters opened up, and out came an orange missile, leaving a red trail in its wake. It shot straight up through the sky and smashed into the rear of the craft, blowing any part of it that may have been traceable as a TIE fighter to hell.

Then the comm-link clicked: "Shuttle Iroveous you're all clear."

Sarek's heart was still racing by the time he was off the small shuttle and he had found that he'd never been so happy in his life to be on ground. How does Father do that all the time? he had to wonder.

The adrenaline alone had felt as though it would burn holes in his veins.

Aros seemed a bit more impassive, as though he had expected that kind of outcome to occur. Though never in the fifteen years that Sarek had known the man had he ever doubted his prowess as a warrior or ever broken his degree of serenity.

It's just not like him.

Though even the beauty of the starport and the fact that they were on ground at least could not distill the obvious tension that was in the air.

Warlord Verg was still up there and the loss of four fighters would not detriment or even slow his desires to raze the starport if he really wanted.

In fact they probably did the exact opposite.

And all this had been happening because Sarek had decided to come down onto the planet at that time. His judgement would cost thousands of Twi'leks their lives.

"It's not your fault boy," Aros said suddenly, catching Sarek off guard. It was as though he had read the young man's very thoughts and answered any unasked questions he might have had.

Sarek blew out a sigh. "Yes it is...I..."

"They would've attacked any shuttle coming by," Aros countered, placing a firm hand on the lad's shoulder. "You probably just cost Verg his whole empire once yer daddy hears about this he-,"

"I don't want the emperor to deal with it!" Sarek barked out a bit more harshly than he had intended. But it was too late, it was out, and he might as well have used it to his advantaged.

He turned a hard stare on the pirate. "I'll deal with it myself," he said in a low tone, a tone denying him of character and even personality.

It was entirely unlike him to speak in that tone of voice, it was as though some other being, some other form had posessed him momentarily to discuss just such a thing.

Aros gave his shoulder a tight squeeze.

"Don't think too hard on it, no one but them Imps were made dead, so you've nothin' to be guilty about," he tried to comfort.

As though the loss of any life is acceptable Sarek reasoned mentally. But that would be saved for himself.

Lights flashed on and off throughout the subterranean spaceport, red, blue, white and then none, then all over again. They were the signs of imminent battle.

Warriors, in their cloaks and typical loincloths, ran forth to their fighters and battle stations fearlessly, their lekku seeming to boom with pride as they did. Meanwhile women ran with their children, fat nobles fled for their goods, and shops began to close in abundance.

It was hard for Sarek not to take all of it onto himself. Who else was there to blame?

Every negativity requires a source for blame. I will be that source here.

He shrugged. He had been blamed for his mother's death on more than one occasion, this would be nothing.

Though Sarek expected some kind of a fight on the surface, if that were the case...

His hands dropped to the hilts of his blades at his sides, the twin khukris he had named Strategy - who's hilt was dipped in blood red - and Tactics - who's hilt had been twilight blue.

If Verg were to send forces then they would have to get through him.

Though all dilusions of grandeur were quickly knocked out of his head rather forcefully by Aros's palm.

"There'll be no fightin' while I'm around, we have a job, and that job 'er'onna' do, got it?" he demanded. Sarek gave him a firm glare, though he quickly melted under the pressure. He let loose the grips on his blades. "You've more responsibility than to throw your life away in a sword on blaster fight. Save it boy, save your stuff."

Sarek could not deny the logic. Varn and even Jutraal and Despayre totally and completely depended on him.

If I abandon them now then billions die because of Ashar...

I can't do that.

"Well then where do we go now?" Sarek reasoned, laxing his posture. Aros jerked his thumb back behind him toward a couple of approaching twilights, gowned in typical warrior garb.

"I'm guessin' they've an idea'er'two," he said.

The old pirate turned around, and Sarek stood to the side of him, eyeing the Twi'leks carefully with red-pupiled eyes.

They appeared almost a bit unnerved at first by the strange texture, though that ended swiftly enough. They each bowed respectfully, which Aros and Sarek mimicked in response.

"Sarekefear'sons?" the warrior to the right, and the far larger of the two, asked, pointing a finger at the young man. Sarek nodded.

"Aye, I am he."

Both Twi'leks stared at each other and offered a needle-toothed grin before staring back at the young Fearsons.

"Lord Tere'sar wishes to have a word with you," the big one said.

Tere'sar... Sarek tried to match up the name with a picture in his head, or at least with a description from the Jutraalian briefing, but he got none. He construed his face in an expression of obvious confusion. Why would they want to bring me to someone who doesn't even show up on Intelligence reports? Perhaps he's powerful enough not to be noticed...

That thought unnerved Sarek. Though he did not let that show on his face or in his posture.

"Alright then," he said impassively, almost shrugging the statement off, "let's go."

The two warriors gave each other one more nod before turning ushering for Aros and the young Fearsons to follow.

Despite the chaos that came with the imminent attack, the Twi'leks seemed to have no difficulty navigating their way through the underground halls, even every now and again slowing down to teach Sarek something about the urban-flora.

He had always responded with the same one word answer.

Interesting.

They finally came before two enormous blast doors that seemed to be built into the caverns themselves, or more that they had grown from the walls.

Sarek found himself gaping in an almost level of awe at them. They were a marvel in engineering, even if it was so simple, so small a task.

"The boss will see you now," the smaller of the two warriors explained, punching in a code in the console near the wall.

A smile crept on Aros's lips. He never was the patient type. He absolutely detested waiting longer than he had to, so marching straight to the boss's office and being let in was his idea of a perfect meeting.

The doors slowly crept open, and beyond them sat an obvious half-breed between man and Twi'lek - made immediately obvious by the shortened length of the lekkus.

Aros's jaw gaped open as a room full of blasters were honed right on him.

"Tares Ven," he said in denial.

Aros was rewarded with a smash upside the head by one of the warriors near him, which he immediately turned an angry scowl up.

"Tares'ven," the warrior growled, "speak with honor of the boss!" Aros shrugged and rubbed the now sore spot on the back of his skull, turning back to stare at Tares. He tried not to show his worry or possibly even fear, though Sarek felt it radiating off of him easily.

There has to be something truly wrong with this Tares'ven to have even Aros all shook up...

The small, half-bred Twi'lek turned a needle-toothed sneer on both of them, resting back in his hoverchair as he placed his fingertips together in thought.

Aros shifted his weight from foot to foot, clenching and unclenching his fists as he stared at Tares'ven. The warriors even seemed uneasy, the whole room was tense except for Sarek, who simply stared straight ahead at this "boss" figure, who stared back at the young man with sincere admiration.

Sarek leaned in toward the old pirate, speaking in a hushed tone.

"Who is Tares'ven?" he whispered. Aros leaned in closer.

"You ever heard of the New Republic's Colonel Nawara Ven?" he asked in response.

"Aye."

"He's Tares's daddy...I kind of enslaved uncle and went to court against Nawara...got away clean too."

Sarek nodded slowly and pulled back. So there would be some tensions between the two here no doubt.

"So Aros the Bluestar crawls out of his hole at last and into mine eh?" Tares'ven said eagerly, almost playfully. He seemed like a spider who had just caught a prime fly in his web, he was almost too happy to see this.

Aros however tightened up and refused to offer any of his typical pirate-like, glib come backs. He had to remember he was here for more than just himself, he was here on behalf of an empire, and was here to save millions of lives.

Of course he could not deny that if he were in a room alone with Tares there would probably be black and red blood against the wall.

The damn kid can be pretty annoying...

"Oh what's this? No glib remarks Aros?" Teres'ven taunted, letting his pasty white hands fall over his desk. "It is no matter, you are a fool for coming here."

"Sir Tares'ven, please," Sarek intervened, stepping in between the pirate and the Twi'lek lord, "we are here on a diplomatic mission from Jutraal, whatever your past I must implore that you leave it aside, at least for now as millions suffer before the weight of the Demosthesian Empire."

Tares'ven stared at Sarek a moment, trying to measure him with crystal blue eyes. There was something curious about this one, a radiant glory that was not in every man, there was just...something about him.

"So you are the Jutraalian ambassadors I was told to expect?" Tares'ven asked incredulously, as though he did not believe the emperor would send these two on such an important task.

"Yes sir," Sarek responded without ever missing a beat. "I suspect that is part of the reason we were chosen to be ambushed by those TIE fighters coming down."

Tares'ven patted the air with his hand, shaking his head. "I would not think so...Warlord Verg has been getting a bit more...ambitious as of late. It does not surprise me that he ordered his pilots to start pounding incoming civilian craft." He narrowed his eyes dangerously, then stared back at Aros.

"Emperor Fearsons personally briefed me on the situation with the Demosthesian Empire so I will put aside our differences for now," he explained, "if you can prove your worth here, then perhaps I can find it in my heart to forget your past crimes."

Sarek began to speak, simply to stop Aros from responding.

"The Jutraalian Empire thanks you for your kindness...and I must inquire if Ryloth will accept my father's offer to-,"

"You're Sarek Fearsons?" Tares'ven asked, cutting him off as though he had not paid attention to another word that had been said.

Sarek bit back an insult of his own, already growing weary of being known as "The emperor's son". He wanted to be known for his own accomplishments, not his father's.

"Yes I am," he said though when he regained his composure.

Tares'ven smiled warmly and held out his palms innocently. "It is a pleasure to meet you...the emperor told me so much about you..."

"That is quite kind Sir Tares'ven," Sarek offered.

"He told me you are quite handy with those blades," the Twi'lek continued, nodding at the khukris tucked into Sarek's belt. Sarek shrugged.

"I've used them in training several times and against Womp Rats on Tatooine, but I have no real experience with them," Sarek responded evenly. He seemed almost proud that he had not found it necessary to use them with any true force.

Again Tares'ven nodded.

"Alright...Ryloth will turn its full support to the Jutraailan Empire...under one condition."

Sarek looked back at Aros, who was equally concerned. The emperor had little to nothing left to offer, he was on his last leg as it was. Everything was being devoted to the war against the Demosthesian Empire.

"I want you to lead Jutraalian and Twi'lek forces against Warlord Verg...I want his head on my desk."

Sarek stared back at him, his jaw gaping. Me? Lead a military operation? The idea did not sit well in his mind. This was all being slapped into his lap too fast, way too fast. He was just a simple boy, who was going to grow up to be a simple writer...

And now here he was about to destroy the rumored son of Grand Admiral Syn.

Millions are depending on you Sarek...put vanity aside.

"I will...see what I can do..." Sarek said at length, and surprisingly enough...that felt very...good. "But may I ask you a question...man to-, err....warrior to warrior?"

Tares'ven leaned forward, resting his elbows against his desk.

"Of course Sarek."

The boy nodded and thought for a moment. "Who were those who saved me? And why did they? You know you'll incur Verg's wrath for what they did, and Ryloth doesn't have the firepower to hold him off. From what I heard he even has his hands on a few Imperial-Class Star Destroyers."

Tares'ven smiled warmly.

"I led that squadron my friend. I fought because it is cowardice to strike at an unarmed shuttle like that. If Verg chooses to attack us...we will fight. We are all ready to fight and die if need be."

It seemed reasonable to Sarek, but he still felt guilty for the deaths that would soon be following.

"Would you like to pound out the details to you joining the Jutraalian Empire?"

Tares'ven nodded, and Sarek removed his datapad.

Four hours later, Ryloth was a member of the Jutraalian Empire.

"Ryloth is asking for all out war," the emperor said in a manner that did little to hide his agitation. His hands were clasped tightly behind his back as he paced, though he still seemed to maintain a level of serenity and calm that Sarek could never have attained. "The delegation on Tatooine will never tolerate a Jutraalian movement into their space either..."

"With all do respect Father," Sarek piped in, rising from his seat, "I don't think we should give the Tatooine delegation a choice."

Chadd stopped and stared at his son, tilting his head as he did so.

"Pardon?" he asked, feeling a hint of betrayal seep into his system. I haven't been able to raise him but he's both a Taren and a Fearsons, he shouldn't have any hint of warlord tactics in his mind. "We cannot just barge into someone's space and start shooting up looking for a warlord Sarek."

Sarek offered his father a slight, mischevious smirk that denied the gravity of the situation. "I would never advise such...but Aros and I acquired some intelligence on the way back linking Verg to the Tatooine Delegation."

The emperor narrowed his eyes.

"What kind of intelligence?"

"We did some flybys and asked some questions...plus," the younger Fearsons reached down into his cloak and withdrew a handful of datacards, "one of his four Star Destroyers was doing a fueling run over Tatooine, and after talking with the port authority it turns out it was heading out to Zhar."

"What the hell is he sending troops there for?"

Sarek shrugged. "No idea, we just did basic intelligence gathering. But I definitely know that judging by the nav buoys it used it went to Zhar or somewhere near it."

The emperor rapped his fingers against his jaw as he continued to think, taking a few steps back toward his throne. Sarek watched him curiously, almost admirably. During his stay in the Jutraalian Empire he had seen admirals throw fits because their men had not succeeded difficult tasks, politicians scream like girls, and traders lose their tempers as easily as a four year old.

Though the emperor was calm...cool, very refined about his actions. Everything was measured and almost seemed choreographed, down to even his sitting and sleeping.

Sarek had to wonder what it would have been like being raised by him. Though he could not deny that he enjoyed his life with Aros. He would not have traded his experiences with the old pirate for the greatest treasures in Jutraalian life.

"And Ryloth wants you to lead this attack?" the emperor asked, breaking Sarek's chain of thought. He nodded.

"Yes. They said if any other admirals take charge they'll secede from Jutraal immediately."

"A secession, an enraged warlord, and a maniac running a church...just what I need," Chadd said incredulously, blowing out a mutually felt sigh.

Sarek shrugged. "I know the basics of command...I just lack protocol. Aros taught me what I need to know about each ship."

"Even custom Jutraalian models?" Chadd tested. Sarek shrugged.

"I donno...if I saw it in battle I could probably exploit its weakness."

The emperor nodded. "Fair enough."

"So what was the political situation while you were on Tatooine?" Chadd asked, trying to move along the political and business part of the meeting. My son has been unknown to me for seventeen years...and here I am throwing him into the heat of battle against a psychotic despot who is apparently the son of Grand Admiral Syn.

"Same old. Hutts want it, Black Nebula is fighting for it, Delegation let's them fight each other, people are hurt in the process."

"How linked would you say Verg is?"

"Pretty linked, probably running the show behind the scenes, though he won't make any official show of it."

The emperor sighed and ran his fingers through his pale scalp. The Jutraalian Empire desperately needed experience for its newer troops and admirals. All the great, old commanders were dead or retired, their crew promoted in their place.

But that too arose problems, as they did not have leading experience. In the emperor's absence promotions had been too rapid, instead of the gradual slowness that he had favored, that way people were allowed to observe, and learn.

At the emperor's summons, General Dwight of the Jutraalian Marine Corps had returned, and for that he was thankful. The man had proved himself with great distinguishment over the years, especially at the third Battle of Sluis Van. Though now he was refined to training new recruits and working behind the lines.

It was actually humerous sometimes to watch the absolute frustration on his face as a "youngen" as he called them was sent off to fight or lead on the front, all the while he was confined to the Jutraalian Royal Palace on Jutraal.

The most prominent military commander so far was Admiral Jtal Telween, the son of the late Admiral Verin Telween. The latter had gone mad during the Jutraalian-Imperial War and launched an all out assault against Muunilist in his own Star Destroyer.

Though he had managed to cause some damage, his Star Destroyer was vaporized in the process.

This latest operation would be somewhat useful in teaching the crewmen how to work in semi-stressful situations, though as a whole the emperor was concerned. With the exception of the Empire and the New Alliance, the Jutraalian Empire had only fought warlords and terrorists.

While that had turned them into one of the best fighting forces in the galaxy, he needed men to be ready to repel invaders such as the Demosthesian Empire. They were experienced and tough, they knew what they were doing.

The Jutraalians did too of course, but that did little to shield the fact that where Demosthesian commanders had experience in combat, Jutraal didn't.

Chasing a warlord won't help them...but fighting the son of Syn will.

Fearsons thought back on what he remembered of the fellow grand admiral. He was a tough and arrogant one, but was also the only of the thirteen who had been outfought by a Republic admiral. Of course, it was Admiral Ackbar who had navigated that battle, and with a superior number of forces.

If Sarek could prove himself against that man's son then perhaps he had a future in the Jutraalian navy.

But then again the emperor did not feel right sending his only surviving family member to war. He had lost Arai because she had gotten too ambitious with the power he had taught her to wield...could Sarek be going down that same path?

"You do know that this is not standard warfare, right Sarek?" he finally asked at length. His son nodded.

"Right, it's exactly what Aros taught me. It'll be like hunting womprats, we have to find Verg's holes and blow them out one by one until we force him into open combat."

Again Chadd nodded.

"And when you're in open combat, will you be able to handle yourself?"

"Father...I'm your son," Sarek said as though that should solve all of life's problems.

"Right...I almost forgot," he said sarcastically.

"You've got a lot of balls kid," Aros commented dryly as they approached the shuttle ahead of them. Sarek turned an inquisitive stare at him, though he could guess what the man was grumbling about.

"Pardon?" he inquired.

"Don't get me that, you know exactly what I'm talking about," Aros blurted, trying in vain to keep his voice down. "You just lied your ass off to the emperor!"

Sarek smirked and shrugged as he stepped under the nose-like cockpit of the shuttle he would soon be boarding. Aros did not seem amused.

"How exactly did I lie Aros?" Sarek countered, narrowing his red-pupiled eyes.

"How did...I...arg!" Aros looked as though he would explode simply trying to place his words in a civilized sentence. "You assured him Ryloth didn't want an all out war," he finally managed to grind out in a mild whisper.

"They don't want to make all out war," Sarek said innocently enough. "They want me to make all out war. As the old Jedi say, it's not lying if it can be seen as truth from a certain point of view."

"Bah!" Aros cried, stomping up the boarding ramp. "Kids these days!"

Sarek could not hide his smirk, and stalked after the pirate. He couldn't tell whether it was genuine or exaggerated frustration from his lifetime friend, but he did indeed know that it was funny either way.

The shuttle was similar to the one he'd used to land on Ryloth, though definitely more luxorious. The emperor had demanded he travelled like a Fearsons, much to Aros's displeasure. Another smile came to Sarek's expression as he remembered the intense arguement between his father and Aros about which ship to fly.

"I've been takin' the boy around in my craft for years!" Aros had cried, as though he were yelling at some stock broker who had told him he'd lost everything, not as though he were speaking to royalty, much less an emperor. "Why should I change now?"

Chadd simply crossed his arms and stared at the old man. "Because he is home now. He will fly in luxuary. I want him to experience what it's like to be more than a scoundrel."

"Scoundrel?!" Aros hissed, turning red at the face. "Why you wouldn't know the last thing about 'scoundrels', much less if it came up and bit you in the-,"

"That's quite enough," one of the PeFauna had intervened. "His majesty wishes that his son be escorted in a pleasureable manner, he does not degrade your or your ships, but perhaps a change in manner would be nice for the boy?"

"Bah!" Aros had yelled, his tell-tale way of saying "Okay, whatever, I give up". He had thrown up his hands and simply stalked away. Even the emperor could not hide a slight chuckle at the pirate's sheer oddity.

And Sarek loved him for that.

Aros had always understood how hard it was for Sarek to accept that he was royalty, had always understood how hard it was to lose his mother at a young age. His own mother was slain by the Mugaari Pirates, which had caused him to take up his life as a Rineeki.

There was much about that life that he had refused to tell Sarek. From what he had told him, the man's life was fruitful and full of sorrow and bloodshed. There were times Aros simply stopped talking all together and began staring at whatever caught his fancy.

So Sarek had been kind enough not to press.

But in the end he could not deny the help he'd been his whole life. But how did Mother get caught up with the likes of him?

Those were questions he would ask about another day. For now he needed to focus on hunting down and eradicating Warlord Verg, that took the utmost presedence in his plans.

Tatooine and Zhar...what is their connection? What is he planning?

For all his intelligence, for all his wisdom, Sarek could not find a single reason the man would be transporting things to that wasteland of a planet.

Perhaps investigations therein would prove fruitful enough.

The small warfleet exitted hyperspace without delay, shields raising almost instantaneously, weapons having been charged in hyperspace. Intell had been right on the money.

There were two of Verg's Imperial Star Destroyers just above Tatooine orbit, shields down, weapons down, in what would now be a tactical and logistical nightmare. They were pinned down near the atmosphere, their noses to the ground, with two Imperial Star Destroyers and a handful of lesser starships coming at their backs.

Sarek however did not let himself get over confident. Anything could happen at this point. The Warlord's forces were superior in experience and, if done correctly, could turn around and begin a slugfest on the two Jutraalian craft. Besides, who really did know what was on the other side of the planet?

Aros stood at the young man's side, staring straight ahead as though in awe.

"Y'know boy, when I was yer age I'd do anything I could to be away from those things," he commented distastefully. Sarek allowed a smirk to play his features.

"Yes I know," he responded, "but times have changed my old friend."

"Enough to do this?" he stated more than asked. "Bah! Kids these days!" he exclaimed, throwing his hands into the air exaggeratedly.

Sarek's smirk only widened. Though he wiped it off his face almost immediately, turning back to the cold, hardened commander he wanted so desperately to portray.

"Alright, let's open up with turbolasers, target their shield generators with laser cannons. Have the support ships move on all sides and get ready to supress anything that comes over those flanks."

Aros dismissed himself, most likely to go make sure the orders were being followed. What a fitting executive officer he's making.

Sarek agreed with his father for not putting him in charge of the operation though. Aros had been, his whole life, a small deal pirate. He would not dream against fighting anything above a Carrack, and in that case he'd still be cautious, even with the whole Jutraalian fleet at his disposal.

The emperor trusted his son in this case, knowing he was well educated in the strengths and weaknesses of ships and not to let reputations distill a well-driven tactical heart.

Green-gold laser fire suddenly lit up the emptiness of space in front of Sarek, shooting straight out at the twin Star Destroyers, who were already moving like drunken banthas to try and fire back.

Everything was lit up in a kind of glow that he would, otherwise, have called absolutely beautiful. The glow from the planet washed over the two craft, adding a kind of serenity to it, only added to by the beautiful turbolasers. It's a shame men are going to die because of this.

Tiny explosions dotted the bridge of the first Star Destroyer, which had been identified as the Verg's Heart, while the second one, and the one which had been to the left, was the Verg's Mind.

Interesting Sarek thought to himself.

He had studied the mind of Verg very intently on the way to Tatooine from Jutraal and had found some greatly interesting facts about both his pride and his structure. Apparently each ship had been named for its purpose in combat, to reflect which part of him would be used by that ship.

So these two are command ships. Excellent that we've caught them with their pants down but...

He stared out across the expanse of space, where his lesser starships were already moving into a kind of screen on the flanks. His fighters too were finished being deployed, and the sound of the screams of TIE fighters filled the bridge as they whizzed past, pressing their advantage against the two Star Destroyers.

Verg's own turbolasers joined the fray, blasting back as powerfully as they could being minimally charged. They did not fire in any particular direction, just going off in every direction in a vain attempt to hit something.

The Jutraalian warship's fire did not stray, keeping right on target with its massive volleys of laser fire.

On the bridge of the Heart one of the domes ripped to shreds, totally and completely incinerating, throwing sharpnel about. It was followed by its twin, decimating all shields on the craft.

"She'll be goin' down soon Sarek!" Aros cried from across the bridge, where he was leaning over one of the consoles. He rose and offered Sarek a stare, who looked back curiously. "Grab 'er with a tractor beam! Don't let her fall!"

The young prince could not agree more. If the Star Destroyer were to get caught in the gravitational tug of Tatooine's atmosphere it would spell doom for those planetside.

"Initiate tractor beams!" he yelled, throwing up a hand. He had sounded a bit more anxious than intended, but he let it go. The men were responding and a handful of green beams shot out, catching the Heart mid-flight.

Slowly it began to be pulled back.

The Star Destroyer fought viciously against the tug of the tractor beams, as though wanting to plummet into the desert world. But the unrelenting Jutraalian craft kept at it, offering it a few more blasts before it finally succumbed to its beams, being tugged in far quicker this time.

The other craft, the Mind, had been lured away from the atmosphere's gravitational pull. Blast after blast rammed against it until the entire port had been blown clean out and bodies were being sucked into space. Sarek could not make out most of them, but he knew, as a whole, that at least a quarter of the crew were now either flash frozen or burned alive.

"Damage assessment?" Sarek asked as Aros trodded up to his side, a grin splayed across his face.

"We suffered nothin', the Strongarm took a hit or two across the bridge, but she's fine. We lost a fighter, but the pilot was recovered."

"Any word from the far side of Tatooine."

Aros shook his head, confusion evident on his face.

"Not a thing. Something seems to be amiss."

"Get intell on this immediately, I want to know why the hell I just took out two god damn command ships with no opposition," Sarek growled, feeling his excitement drown into frustration.

The old pirate shrugged.

"Aye sir."

Sarek had forgotten how hot the damn planet could get. He felt like his skin would simply incinerate there and then, leaving him to turn into molten ash. It hurt to open his eyes, it felt as though he were back on Averam, looking up into the sun without any kind of protective gear.

The difference here though was that it didn't matter what side he was looking on, everywhere it hurt. He cupped a hand over his eyes, trying to offer some shade, which helped at least partially.

Aros seemed comfortable enough. Of course why wouldn't he be? This was Tatooine, home of pirates, scum, and villainy of all sorts. He had to have visited the planet at least a dozen times, especially with the reputation he had.

Sarek let out a breath that sounded like a mixture between a growl and a sigh as he scanned about the desert until he located the city off in the distance. It seemed like a white haze, almost as though a well-shaped rock in the middle of a great heap of nothingess.

"No wonder the Hutts like it here so much," Sarek commented dryly, frustration evident in his tone.

"Eh?" Aros asked.

"Look at this place, there is nothing here. I mean it's an enormous pit of nothing," Sarek explained. And that really was the only way to describe it.

Two abhorrent suns sat up in the sky, staring down on him and mocking him.

It felt as though they were enjoying the heated pain they were causing him.

@#%$.

Sarek could still barely feel the air conditioning from the shuttle behind him, whose ramp had been left open while they unloaded the last of the troops and dug out the speeders.

"Remind me again Aros why we're not landing in the space ports?" Sarek asked in obvious annoyance.

"Because they won't let us boy," the other explained with equal vehemency, as though the prince should've known that. "Remember these guys are funded by Verg himself."

He sighed. "@#%$."

"Watch your mouth."

"Alright, we're ready to go," one of the soldiers to Sarek's right explained as the final speeder was set out and turned on. He turned to take a quick check.

There were two combat speeders, a luxuary speeder, and a handful of speeder bikes. The luxuary speeder was obviously for him, while the others were there to be his escort. As long as it has air conditioning.

"After you Aros," he said in feigned formality. The old man just threw up his hands yelling "Bah!".

Sarek smirked and followed after him.





By all accounts and purposes, the place was Hell.

Sarek would have thought that of all the places on Tatooine the damn governmental office would have air conditioning. It was actually hotter in-doors where the heat could be trapped in and prevented to escape.

The fact that he was wearing a heavy green cloak and all black clothing did not help in any way. Sweat washed over his face, leaving a salty taste on his lips. How embarassed he was at the thought of going in to meet a government official while sweating like a nerf herder!

Aros leaned in to Sarek's side, placing his lips mere centimeters from his ear. "I don't like this," he explained, his eyes dashing around cautiously.

Sarek looked at him, tilting his head.

"Don't like what?" he asked incredulously.

"This whole set up...something doesn't feel right."

Allowing himself to stop concentrating on the heat for just a moment Sarek felt an equally strange premonition. His body froze slightly, every hair on his body standing up on end like thousands of little needles.

There was indeed something wrong that made him want to go straight for Strategy and Tactics.

He resisted the urge.

He stared around the small room, which was cramped and packed. It was nothing special, the walls were made of stone with haphazard little pieces of furniture thrown about. The soldiers were mostly standing, keeping a tight lookout for anything that could be construed as a threat.

They all knew the implications of this mission as well as the threat therein.

None have really ever tamed Tatooine, even in the days of the Old Republic.

Heat aside, Sarek was truly uncomfortable. Everything here suddenly felt very wrong.

He was aware of everyone in the building though as well, which was equally odd. How can I just..."feel" where they all are?

He felt the Grand Delegate up in his office, his two personal guards outside it. He felt the soldiers in the waiting room with him, he felt Aros, and the workers throughout the building. He felt the six men coming toward the building from the street.

Six men coming toward the building...?

On sheer impulse, without any question, without any regard, Sarek suddenly yelled.

"Get down!" he screamed, throwing himself to the floor.

Aros did so without question, as did some of the troops.

Those who did not need the warning fell seconds later as the waiting room door burst open and hundreds of crimson blaster bolts ripped through the air. Smoke began to rise and toil throughout the room and only moments later those who had not ducked were lying dead or dying.

The survivors fought back, returning with a returned haze of blinding gunfire.

Aros however leapt up immediately, his hand-held blaster in hand, Sarek in the other.

"Boy we gotta' go!" he yelled, taking a pair of shots toward the door.

Sarek couldn't have agreed more. Ducking down low to avoid being hit and running past the troops shielding him he made his way for the hallway which was erected opposite where he had been sitting. One man in the shield fell, the others held strong.

The prince and Aros pressed on, the latter ripping his twin khukris from their sheaths and twirling them ferociously. That warranted a slap from the pirate.

"Keep 'em at bay boy, this ain't no talent show!" he screamed. Sarek blushed and looked back down the hall, though was this time shoved, his entire body smacking against the ground painfully as his friend yelled "Down!"

Aros ducked as well, a few more red blasts coming from down the hall and going by overhead. He responded with a couple of well aimed shots of his own, downing one of the incoming guards.

"Dammit, the Delegation set us up!" he cursed, throwing himself forward. Sarek grabbed his swords and followed in stride. By the time he'd caught up with his friend he'd already killed the second guard and, as far as that "feeling" told him the troops in the lobby had killed most of their culprits. All that were left in here was the Grand Delegate.

And Aros would certainly have his way with him.