The clattering sound of glass against glass echoed off of every wall in the room, overshadowing even the sound of the regent's heavy breathing. On first glance one would not take this man to be a national ruler of a powerful planetary-nation that was on the verge of complete and systemwide domination.

No, one would take this man to be a young and sullied fool, a superstitious man who succumbed to one too many legends. Or they would take him as a man who had lost it all, and owed a Hutt or two more than he could muster up.

Certainly he did not look like the Serasian Regent.

But there he sat, sweat drenching his face like the old tri-falls of Alderaan, cigarra in one hand, glass of some foul tasting orange liquid in his other. With his hand shivering and shaking in the manner that it was, the bottom of the glass was smacking across the top of his polished marble and glass desk over and over.

His eyes were glued on the door ahead, through the darkness of his office where he'd had the lights turned off so that none could see him in this state, he watched intently the paranoia seeping out from every pore in his body.

In the back his holonet offered a slight, luminescent glow over his body, giving a glimpse of his features. Still the reporters were talking about the defeat to the Kiyarans. Talking about how an outlandish craft of Imperial model had come into the system and turned the tide of the battle completely.

At that thought the regent downed the rest of the liquid in his glass, wincing as he did so, just before placing his cigarra in his mouth and inhaling deeply.

Where had they come from?

Maybe it was an Imperial scout ship being sent out to a further system that was caught in the gravity wells?

If that were the case, why was it so heavily armed? And why did the pilot so quickly take sides?

That one should be easy you dumbass, because you were the one that pulled him out of hyperspace.

That was, of course, true. But they had not even tried to set up contact or...what did it matter trying to justify the reasoning behind the attack?

A Marauder Corvette was now in the hands of the Kiyar Federation, and even now they were probably fixing the engines and getting ready to use it against Seras.

But that was okay...they still could not launch a counter missile strike safely. Their one quadrant capable of doing so was now completely blind and blockaded by a pair of CR-90s.

Sending an attack would be futile and a waste of their six surviving warheads.

But still...

And what would he say about the situation? That mysterious man had been a blessing to Seras, having taught them so many advanced battle strategies...including bringing those thermonuclear warheads.

Until very recently, it was only Kiyar that had had the ability to mass produce weapons of mass destruction on that scale, and with that they had always been able to convince Seras to remain peaceful.

But with the coming of this man, brandishing a deep, dark cloak and a strange weapon at his side, even Seras was capable of the destruction wrought of such weapons.

It had been argued by some advisors that such brash use of these weapons would be seen as an abuse of power.

Those men were kindly escorted out of the building and had three blaster bolts put into their heads.

Everything had been going so well for Seras until yesterday. All day the Regent sat paranoid, convinced that the dark cloaked man would be unforgiving. He did not know why he'd gotten that impression, but that man simply had that air about him.

It was in the way he walked...the way he talked...the way his body moved, it just did not seem right.

Regent Dekovich still had not mustered the courage to look him in the eye, unsure of what doom that would render.

A quiet beep sounded, sending the regent flying from his chair, his glass being thrown from his hand and shattering into a thousand shards against the wall.

The beep continued in quick bursts, though his heart was beating twice as fast. He looked down at his communications device, with the red flashing button indicating that his secretary wanted to see him.

Closing his eyes, he let out a long breath he did not realize he was holding, before a quivering finger reached out and turned the thing on. Mustering up his courage and hiding the fear that loomed in his chest, he finally spoke up.

"Yes?" he demanded, pretending to be offended by the interruption as he normally was.

"Mister Regent, that man is here to see you," the feminine voice called back in her typical, even tone. She seemed unbreakable at times.

But then, why should she be scared of anything? She had the safest job in Seras. No one would want to kill a secretary in an invasion, and no one would kill her to make an example or to scare the Regent.

The Regent certainly could not shoot her, imagine the chaos that would ensue through the public if they found out that he was shooting secretaries now.

"Send him in," he remarked, clicking off the device and sitting back in his sweat drenched chair.

In a flush he ran over and clicked off the air conditioning, so as to make it seem as though the room were as hot as it was outside that day.

The last thing he needed was to let the man know how horrified he was.

Quickly he then moved back into his chair and waited, cigarra still between his fingers he let some ash fall into his ashtray.

Moments seemed to draw into hours, into days, into a lifetime as he watched the door ahead of him once more, waiting both eagerly and worriedly for the door to open. He wanted to get it over with, wanted the man to leave so that he could just get back to being the regent again.

The Kiyarans were going to pay dearly for the imputence they showed. Already Admiral Kregony was preparing a massive warfleet with which to strike out at the pitiful republic.

So they had a TIE Defender...

How were they going to stand up against over a dozen starships and twice as many starfighters? They'd have to pull a-,

His train of thought was cut off by the sound of his door hissing open, a dark, brooding figure entering with an eerie glow about him. And yet he was nothing more than a silhouette moving with the darkness, no light emanating from him whatsoever.

Yet there was some kind of glow that was unmistakeable.

"It's awfully dark in here Regent..." his deep voice cooed softly. Dekovich brought his cigarra to his lips and inhaled, the light, orange glow of the burning tabacc lighting his face up just a bit more as he turned off the holonet with his other hand. "Allow me to remedy that."

The lights flicked on suddenly, and all that was scene was the man's hand in the air, a finger pointed outward in the direction of the switch. He was in his typical attire, a deep, heavy cloak draped comfortably around his back moving into a hood that covered his head, the shadow covering his whole face but those eerie green eyes.

His clothes and vest seemed to be made of the same material a pauper wore, and yet it fit him perfectly and snugly, it seemed as majestic as any piece of clothing any man wore in the Serasian offices. His heavy boots rapped against the carpet with every step, his heavy utilities that were placed all across his body making little metallic noises as he stepped.

He moved comfortably into the chair across the way from the regent, resting haphazardly into its back. His hands gripped the arms of the chair while he moved into a sprawl mode, as though he were relishing this moment of temporary luxuary.

Perhaps he did not see civilization often?

"Do you always keep it this hot in here?" he remarked again, his voice firm and controlling. His right hand lifted and this time the air conditioning turned on. "There we go...much better," he said dryly, a sardonic grin playing his lips.

The regent did his best to muster up what courage he could. Never in his life had he known such fear.

"I am assuming you are here in regards to the skirmish yesterday..." the regent stated, each word being measured carefully as so his voice would not break.

"That I am," the man responded. "You lost my ship," he stated, his voice rising with undoubtable stress, or at least anger.

The regent bowed his head in a nod of submission. "Yes that...that we did and you've my deepest apologies...we-,"

The man lifted a hand, cutting him off.

"Don't trifle over it...I have many more where that comes from."

Dekovich's face construed into one of confusion. This was an irritating and confusing man to be sure. One moment he seemed as though he were ready to rip your heart out, the next he wanted to shake your hand...and yet that would all pass by into another moment of unadulterated rage.

There was no reading this man.

"I see...even now we are preparing to destroy what is left of Kiyar...our missiles are being loaded to prepare for the initial barrage and our entire warfleet is ready to assault their open quadrant," the Serasian explained. "A traitor on the inside has assured us the shields will be down."

"Did he?" the other man asked in a measuring tone. "Did he..."

For a moment he sat back, brooding in thought while bringing finger tip to finger tip.

"That is indeed curious...when is the attack scheduled?"

"With no delays...by next week we will have a complete devastation of Kiyar's ability to fight via tactical nuclear warheads and we expect the planet to fall within another week to our forces."

Again this man drifted away into thought, most likely calculating every measure and every consequence of the situation.

"Alright then...that gives me time..."

"Time...?" Dekovich dared to inquire.

"Time to seek out this one in the TIE Defender...she...has striken my curiousity per se," the man commented.

"She?" Dekovich asked, distaste on the tip of his tongue. In Serasian society women had always been inferior, their job was to work the home, raise the children, and produce the children.

To lose such a skirmish to a woman was unthinkable.

"Yes...she, this distresses you Regent?" he asked, leaning forward in his chair and smirking visibly. By now only his eyes and lower mouth were visible...perhaps he'd wanted it that way.

"Perhaps just a little..." Dekovich responded. "But either way, what about this woman, other than her craft, intrigues you?" As soon as the words left his mouth he regretted them. He had learned the hard way last time not to press for information from this man.

And yet he seemed to be in a good mood this day.

"That is my business...you will learn in time," the man responded. "Just be sure to inform me before any missiles are launched...I would hate to be caught in the cross-fire."

Yes...that would be most unfortunate wouldn't it... the regent thought to himself sarcastically as the man rose from his chair.

"Yes...it would be," the man growled under his breath. Dekovich fell back into his chair, eyes wide open in terror. Even his thoughts were no longer private.


<hr>


Just the day before the woman, who'd identified herself as Lieutenant Raven Skywalker of Rogue Squadron, had been beside herself with joy. Just as she had pulled out of her barrel roll, she'd heard something, she didn't know what, but something enter her mind.

When she'd landed, it came in a bit more clarity.

You did great Raven, I can't wait to see you.

And the voice was too familiar to mistake.

Daren was in contact with her. He was actually talking to her now.

Her heart had filled with such joy, such...excitement. Her search was finally coming to an end.

But all those feelings had come to an abrupt halt when the president, who had introduced himself as Kilam Blackh, had told her the bitter news.

Now she rested in front of the enormous statue, face in her hands as she now knew the horrible truth. Tears beat down her face, staining her normally beautifully pale cheeks with red lines.

She looked up at the memorial of Daren Trevelan, clutching his helmet underneath his arm, adorned in his favorite uniform. Underneath she read the inscription once more:



Kilam had explained how he'd died defending the planet. How he'd given his life to stop a series of missiles from hitting various civilian targets.

Of course, that sounded an awful lot like him. He always had to go play hero. And look where it got him.

She'd spent most of the day there, weeping at the thought. It seemed too unreal, it was impossible. How could he be gone? She'd heard him, she'd felt him here.

She felt him still.

Standing from the foot of the memorial, she rose from the statue's feet. Wiping away her tears she turned toward the presidential palace. She'd been informed that as long as she stayed she would be welcome as a hero on the planet, that she could enter or leave the palace at will.

She had something she needed to settle with the president.


<hr>


Inside the presidency, Kilam, still deprived of sleep, found himself ready to simply explode. The joys from the day before were short-lived at best. Though Seras had been beaten back this once they had at least a hundred warships ready for battle at a moment's notice. They needed only a command from the Regent and Kiyar would suffer dearly for their defense the day before.

Kilam had discussed the reasoning with his fellows and chain of command and they had agreed that Seras had been planning this attack for some while. They wanted to catch Kiyar with its pants down and hit them in one last swift stroke, without the use of chemical, biological, or nuclear weapons in order to steal the precious minerals and wheat supplies.

The minerals were often used inside of the blasters of Serasian soldiers, as a form of alternate tibanna gas. Though it was hardly as effective, it did keep them running at a rate that was far cheaper than importing contraband tibanna.

Especially with word that Bespin and Taloraan were constantly being fought over as they spoke.

Tibanna gas...that would be the winner or loser of the war. Each had their own stockpiles, but they were so limited in this system of space that whoever used it first would have to so annhilate the enemy in such a swift stroke that the logistics and planning would drive a man insane. Otherwise they themselves would run out, and the surviving stocks would be used against the other.

Kilam looked around his office, where the chiefs of each of the military branches sat eagerly discussing how to repel the imminent Serasian attack.

Though an idea occured to the president...

"Gentlemen..." he said quietly at first. He got no response, as none overhead him over the loud arguing between the other generals. "Gentlemen," he said louder, finally grabbing their attention and silencing the room.

"At this exact moment what are the Serasians building inside the shipyard that is rightfully ours?" he demanded, eager to not let this idea slip from his mind.

The head of intelligence, Boris Crewill, stared down at his datapad and flipped through a few screens. Finally he looked up.

"A Loronar Strike Cruiser sir," he said, his tone suspicious. A grin played the president's lips.

"We have...a marauder corvette that only needs engine repair. We have a handful of starfighters, countless militiamen ready to fight and die for us, and a TIE Defender at our disposal according to Lieutenant Skywalker...we can take back our shipyard..."

The generals sat in a state of shock, unsure of what exactly to say.

"Sir you must understand that they have far more than just a 'marauder corvette' in their arsenal...and with them preparing for an attack-," General Marec tried to say, before Admiral Criston cut in.

"With them preparing for an attack they will pull from their defensive pool unsuspecting of an attack on the shipyard..." he added, catching onto the president's plan.

Kilam nodded slowly. "If we can employ Lieutenant Skywalker we can capture both a Loronar Strike Cruiser and a shipyard."

The room went silent for just a moment...before a whole new debate entered the room.

A debate of how best to take the shipyard.

Raven kept strolling towards the presidential palace. She didn't believe that Daren was dead, eventhough she was given the grim news from the president himself.

If he's dead, then why do I feel his presence so strongly? If he's still alive, then why is he hidding?

The young sith had heard him say that he couldn't wait to see her.

If he was so close, then what was keeping him from comming to her in the first place? What was holding him back?

This was the first time that he even spoken to her, outside of her dreams. A part of her was overjoyed, and yet another part of her was suspicious.

There was something definately not right with this entire picture. She could almost taste the feeling of what seemed to be a lingering shadow-like presence in the air which was entirely different from the comforting warmth that Daren's presence had.

This new presence meant only one thing: trouble.

With this new revelation, Raven quickened her pace, moving quickly through the palace grounds and into the palace itself.

What she knew could mean death to everyone on Kiyar.

Within a few mintues, a knock sounded to mometarily quiet those inside the office. It followed a few moment's later by the door opening, and a grim faced Raven entering the room.

"Gentlemen, please pardon me from interupting your discussion. I have come to discover something that could mean a masacre of all those remaining on Kiyar."

The whole room was silenced immediately by the woman's immediate entrance. She was always wearing dark and brooding clothing, something that had caused more than a bit of concern in the Kiyarans. Several of their more religious figures were more than a little frightened by her.

She had a look of concern sprayed across her face, something that none of them were exactly pleased by. Of all people, she was the last that they wanted to see concerned.

Then she said those haunting words that rang out into all their minds like an omenous brass instrument heralding their doom.

"Gentlemen, please pardon me from interupting your discussion. I have come to discover something that could mean a masacre of all those remaining on Kiyar."

Every general, every commander turned to one another and let out a chorus of both concern and complaint. They seemed as though they would literally leap from their seats.

Kilam tried to settle them down but found it would to be a practice in futility and simply rose to escort the strange and foreign fighter pilot out of the room.

Into the hall outside, Kilam stared hard at Raven, his hazel eyes stuck onto her. For a moment she felt as though his stare would burn right through her.

"Lieutenant..." he began, "I understand your concern, however I must insist that if you are going to start announcing such things you run them by me first."

Raven's eyes turned even more sour than they were in the first place.

"I just-," she stuttered.

"I need you to be honest with me Raven, why are you here?" the familiarity of his harshness did not elude her, but she shrugged it off.

"President, I'm here searching for a loved one," she insisted, taking a step back from him, "someone dear to me I lost a long time ago."

"And I'll help you find him," he said unexpectedly, catching the girl off guard. She was at a loss for words at that. "If you help us."

Again her face went sour.

"Help you?"

"You have a talent a...a..."

"I'm a Sith."

Kilam's eyes narrowed dangerously. He'd heard things about Sith. Horrible things.

"I'll pretend you didn't say that as long as you help us," he warned.

"What does that have to do with my 'announcement'?" Raven demanded angrily. She could feel a tension rising inside of her, a kind of impatience at the fact that this man was getting in the way of the search for Daren.

"My men's courage is faltering, we are a pen drop away from total nuclear devastation, and...they use weapons that you can't imagine. Your life as a Sith could not possibly prepare you for the Hell that these people will unleash on us if they got the chance," he forewarned, a shadow of solemnity burrowing down into his face. "You have not seen what their weapons will do to people."

"I've seen the effects of war," she tried to protest. "I was on Nkllon when it fell to the Yuuzhan Vong."

"That is nothing," Kilam growled, closing the gap between them in a step. His eyes glazed over and no longer was he looked at her, but beyond. "What the Yuuzhan Vong can do cannot even compare to what the Serasians can and have done. You just don't know."

He remembered well the macabre sights he'd seen, the visions of friends and family alike being devastated by their biological menace.

The Gylong Dance was what they'd called it, named after a bizarre ritual the native tribes of Seras used to do at funerals. The victims' nerves would completely go out of control, moving in a fashion that was very similar to a dance indeed, their arms and legs swaying without command. Blood would emerge from their pores until to the point that their nerves could no longer sustain this and they'd collapse to the floor dead.

On many occasions it was suggested that even after death the body continued to move until the nerves finally came to a complete halt.

This was how Seras waged war. By throwing their ships in kamakaze fashions full of these weapons, or launching missiles tipped with these at Kiyaran ships that were attempting to surrender.

"You just don't know Raven...and I can't have my morale dropped any further than it is."

"I...I understand," she said, more to shut him up than anything else.

"Now tell me about this situation that could bring a 'massacre' to my people."

Raven looked down for a moment, compiling her thoughts.

"The Serasians have a Dark Jedi working for them..." she whispered. And at that moment Kilam felt as though he would simply collapse.

Her whispered announcement came as a shock to the president, whom appeared to become unsteady on his feet.

Whoa, there. Don't fall appart on me now.

Raven quickly grabbed him by the shoulders to steady him, then gave him a reasuring smile.

"I'm willing to bet he didn't count on me showing up yesterday. My presence intrigues him."

She paused, sighing tiredly.

"If the Serasians want to fight dirty, then fine. I'm willing to help even those odds. What do you have in mind?" Raven asked. At this point she was willing to do nearly anything to find Daren, and to be able to see him again. There was so much she wanted to tell him that she was too afraid to say a long time ago.

The young lieutenant, looking fine in his typical green uniform, glanced about nervously in his command chamber, watching each of the activities that went through the room busily as he analyzed the entire situation.

The stress that was radiating off of him was enormous, and several onlookers felt as though he was simply going to explode from it all.

Reaching down into one of his pockets he pulled out a bottle of pain killers. He struggled with it, earning a growl from the scrawny man until he finally could no longer take it, and he simply withdrew his knife and popped the lid off with that, spilling the pain-killers all across the floor.

Lieutenant Creed sighed, almost wimpering as he did so.

"Sir?" one of the enlisted soldiers near him inquired, swiveling in his chair to face him.

"What is it Corporal?" Creed demanded, more harshly than he'd originally intended.

The other was taken back, but given the stress pouring off of the superior it was reasonable. He reached down and scooped up the discarded bottle as well as several of the pills.

"Is everything alright?"

Creed looked back over to him, and placed a hand on his forehead before dropping back into his chair. Slowly shaking his head, he looked up at the computer monitor before them, waiting for the signal.

<hr>

"This is Colonel Dyrien," Kilam introduced, pointing his hand in the direction of the middle-aged pilot. He had greying streaks of hair and at least one or two wrinkles, which seemed to be the norm amongst middle-aged men on this planet. Perhaps it was a result of the stress and the constant warfare going on here.

Raven nodded her approval as she assessed the squadron leader.

"He is the commander of our only squadron that isn't made up of Uglies or Y-Wings," the president went on, turning to completely face the young woman that seemed to have come from the heavens. "He's got our only five X-Wings. They were part of what your friend defended during the initial nuclear assault. He was in the sixth of these things."

The girl turned away, biting her lip at the remarks about Daren, and Kilam simply nodded.

"If you're so certain he's alive we'll find him...but we can't dispatch a search party as long as we're under assault by the Serasians," he explained. He put a hand on her shoulder. "I dispatched a cry for help...if the people of the galaxy are as lawful and charitable as they've claimed...they'll come and we'll put an end to the Regency once and for all."

A fire ignited in the girl's eyes. The once kind and timid young girl had turned into a firebrand of imminent destruction it seemed. Her hand shivered as it clutched her helmet.

"Remember, don't let this hatred burn you away, if you let it get the best of you you're not going to survive this battle," he warned, his face completely serious. "Utilize your anger, but control it, don't let it control you."

The way he described it seemed to glaze her face over with confusion. She recoiled a bit as all the memories of being a Jedi, all the warm feelings of Daren's embrace, all the excitement and adrenaline she knew being a defender of light came back to her in a second.

Her mind was a hornet's nest of thoughts, thousands of contradictory ideas battling each other for a kind of supremecy inside of her mind.

What was happening to her? Zerxes flashed into her mind, his sinister grin, his boyish behavior, and she began to wonder what exactly she saw in him. What had intrigued her so much?

Staring down at her hands, her blood-stained hands, Raven felt her knees begin to buckle. She had been so wrong...she had disgraced Daren's memory, the emperor's memory, everyone who had ever had faith in her.

And that seething, burning hatred burrowed itself once again inside of her belly. That fire returning to her eyes.

"Lieutenant, you're sure you're up for this mission?" Kilam found himself asking. Though with that question he was glad it was he and not another who was giving the farewell and last prep talks to her. They certainly would be pressuring her to fly for no other reason than to have a TIE Defender on their team.

But was she ready? After hearing the news of her friend's death she was emotionally unstable, after hearing that there were biological weapons that could force your body to do a sick dance she could be afraid, and after learning there was a Dark Jedi on the other side seeking her out could be unnerving.

Raven nodded slowly, a smile curling to her lips as the fires in her eyes finally died down.

"It's what Daren would want me to do," she said. "It's what he'd do for me."

"Alright...you'll do us well," Kilam whispered, patting her shoulder. He turned to the colonel who had been watching the relay curiously. "Colonel, suit up and take them out, you'll be escorting the Mosquito against the shipyard, have you been given a full brief?"

"Aye sir," the pilot responded.

"Alright then, Lieutenant Raven will fly your wing."

The colonel nodded with a grim smile. The two exchanged salutes, and Kilam dismissed himself. Raven and Dyrien exchanged a glance and a nod before dismissing themselves to their own private starfighters.

<hr>

The cloaked figure, standing brooding aboard his own personal craft's bridge, narrowed his eyes in contemplation.

Everything had been going according to plan, down to the Green Light operation that would be conducted on Kiyar, down to the exact speech that President Blackh had issued to the known galaxy.

Everything had worked perfectly.

Except for the intrusion of that strange Force presence. It gave him a dark feeling, like a thousand needles piercing his flesh. It was the familiar feeling of the dark side, a deadly, brooding feeling that any Jedi or Sith alike could sense.

But it was confused. So terribley confused. Like a little girl lost in the market, looking for her mother.

How...interesting.

How very interesting.

He looked over at the HoloNet, at the sight of the Hapan leadership announcing their promise to assist the Kiyarans, just before flicking it off.

Come...come help them he insisted with a sly smirk, falling back into his chair.

He looked up at the chronometer, the fleet was nearly completely mobilized and would be striking out at the Kiyarans soon.

Let them do so.

The Dark Jedi would just have to pick up the pieces, maybe turn his own fleet in on the battle.

He turned his head to face one of his three apprentices who stood on either side of his "throne". They stood there, powerful sentinels in the same garb that Desann had used for his Reborn Jedi. The man had always loved that outfit and kept one or two after the battle at the Jedi Academy.

"Go out, our Jedi-woman will be fighting to retake the Shipyard, go and introduce yourselves to her," he said, trying to repress a hideous laugh.

All three of them nodded in unison, backing out, bowing, and dismissing themselves.

The man looked back out the transparisteel viewport, eyeing the static stars ahead.

President Blackh sighed visibly as he placed his forehead into his cupped hands. Sweat was beginning to drip and stain his black leather gloves that he was wearing, and as though in memory he felt a burning sensation in his back where the bone used to be.

"Mister president," he heard from off to the side, the familiar voice of General Marec. He looked up, his face in an even worse state then it had been the day of the attack. "My god sir, when was the last time you slept..."

Kilam shrugged slightly, the weight he put on his elbows almost buckling them over. His shrug seemed to take a lot of the effort out of him. The dark rings under his eyes had grown substantially, his skin was dry and irritated, and his pupils would constantly dialate at the light.

The Space Force general moved into a seat next to the president placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Sir, we'll handle the operation, go get some sleep," he offered, squeezing gently.

"I can't...I...I have to," his mouth chopped exaggeratedly, each effort was taxing him visibly. "I need to assist in this fight."

"Sir...with all due respect...it's not as important as your health. Get some sleep, it'll be a success, I promise," Marec insisted, his voice slightly harsher than he intended. Though he did not relent.

At first Kilam opened his mouth to protest, but found it to be futile. Looking about the bridge of the star cruiser, the only ship left aside from their one Corvette, he saw each of the men watching him, as though this were some kind of holodrama.

With the assistance of his guard, he rised out of his seat, stumbling for balance.

"If...if you're sure General," Kilam stated quietly, his eyes wandering.

"I am sure Mister President."

As though the general's assurance were a que, he collapsed into the shoulder of one of his guards, fast asleep to the merciful darkness.

<hr>

All pre-flight checks had been done twice over, all safety measures set, and everything was ready. He was given clearance to leave whenever he chose, along with the rest of his squadron. But the colonel found himself hesitant, reluctant to press down on the rudders and begin the attack.

For the first time since Operation: Winter's Touch he was genuinely scared to go out into combat. He was scared to fight.

Why?

What was so different about this operation than all the others?

It was that girl. There was something about her that was simply...wrong. Everything about her was wrong. She had that burning hatred in her eyes, that uncontrollable rage that could break any man or woman easily.

And she had that steel eyed glare. The glare that meant that she had one goal that she would accomplish no matter the circumstances.

That sunk in deep. No matter what the circumstance, she wanted her goal accomplished.

"Lieutenant Raven," he said into his comm set, "do you read?"

"Lieutenant Raven here," he heard her crisp voice return, made even crisper through the headset.

"Lieutenant Raven you are going to follow my lead and follow my orders. I don't know what you were taught in your Jedi, Sith, Force whatever training but here you're serving the Federation, understood?"

"Understood."

"Good...we're about to dispatch, don't break formation."

"Yes Colonel," she responded before closing the link. Dyrien shrugged and opened a line to the entire squadron.

"Alright Green Squadron...get ready to launch, I'll go first, then Little Bird, then the rest of you," he said, indicating the codename for Raven.

Moments later the five X-Wings and TIE Defender were out of the space station, heading toward their destination with the Marauder Corvette dubbed the Mosquito.

The Azguards were coming to the rescue. And I mean the Azguards, not the Coalition.

The Chief of Azguard affairs had secretly dispatched a massive force of 400,000 soldiers, all from the Azguard system, on a flotilla of 400 Commercial vessels commandeerd from the civilian populace for emergancy needs. This large task force was put under the command of Colonel Issk. He would see that the military got to the ground and supported whoever it was who needed supporting, and give relief aid to the people.

Details were horribly sketchy, so to be safe Issk pulled out a system away from their destination. Standing on board a commercial liner, he rapped out specific and quick orders.

"Scan this system and the target location. I want numbers, enemy totals and positions, civilian forces, a landing zone, health issues tacked up, relief aid prepared and drop-zones aquired. Call the president and tell him we're coming, and somebody find me a decent cup of coffee."

He looked at the planet on a monitor next to his command seat. "Arm the men for the landing, this could get ugly."

Somewhere on Hapes.




"Almost there."

Ahead of him, Dimitri spoke slowly, his heavy accent making the sentance almost drag out across multiple syllables. The Commodore hadn't changed much since he had last saw him, at his last contract job for the Consortium when he had decided the freelance life wasn't for him, but Dakkon noticed enough different to tell something was up.

Intentional or not, the Kuati born admiral followed on, taking full note of the situation.

"Through here."

Kashlinkov gestured through a side door, which he promptly took. Dakkon was compelled to follow.

This had better not be a waste of my time...

The thought message passed between the pair quickly, and was replied to just as prompt.

Have i ever wasted your time, sir?

The thought popped up in Kashlinkovs head, and Dakkon knew it was his reply. Having served with the admiral for over a decade Kashlinkov knew the subtle nuences of mental conversation, even if he could not actively participate. Dakkon smiled at the suffix, knowing full well he technically held no current military rank.

The remainder of the trip past without incident or conversation and resulting in Dakkon standing in a darkened room, alone, it appeared, with Kashlinkov and a table. Suddenly the lights rose, and a familiar face was revealed at the end of the table, where no presence had previously been detected.

"Your Majesty." he inclined his head, "I had didn't spot you there..."

The Crowned Prince smiled, knowing full well the reasons for his guests surprise. The Princes training had been done it utmost secrecy, but was simply an extrapolation of his will to better guide his people.

"We have scant time, Admiral Blackblade." he gestured for Dakkon to take the seat before him, which he did.

"You and i both know that i am no longer an admiral." Blackblade smiled coyly before drinking openly from a hip flask. Now was Kashlinkovs turn to intervene.

"And we both know your displeasure at your proper title being ignored..."

Dakkon gave him a sidelong glance, but a smile was apparent on his face. As his eyes returned to the Prince, the monarch continued.

"We have received a distress call from from an unknown section of space, purportedly from one 'President Kilam Black of the Federal States of Kiyar'. The message requested immediate assistance and included the location of a system known as Andrega."

The Prince was about to continue but was interupted by a smirk on Blackblades face.

"Already got it." The prince looked inquisitive, but Kashlinkov spoke up, knowing full well that Blackblade would not reveal his sources.

"The message originated from the Averam system. I'd imagine he used former Jutraalian resources, or is using them now, and as a result was well within the range of the signal when it was sent."

The Prince nodded. "Indeed. Can you guess what we require of you?"

The admiral inclined his head.

"Where are your troops now?"

Blackblade glanced at his chrono.

"Should have left CSA space now. The Stormhawk and Thundercheif are currently under hire. I left that job in the hands of an adjutant when i heard there was something more lucrative in the works.

The rest of my fleet is in Imperial space for resupply."

Again the Prince nodded.

"Excellent. Procede to the system post haste..."

The Prince continued talking, but Blackblade was no longer listening. He laughed on the inside at the realisation that his men who were being 'resupplied' in Imperial Space were actually under contract by the Princes brother to help out in eliminating a particularly annoying strain of alien. He almost visably smiled when that realisation turned into the knowledge that he could be cutting that contract short for the more lucrative contract being offered now.

The dark prince would be pissed, especially when he found out it was his brother and rival to the throne who had bought him out, but such was life.




An hour later, the Outer Rim, Consortium Space.



"And send someone to pick up the pilot who transmitted the message. Its hardly right that a man who did so much to assist his nationstate be left out there in space."

Yakovlev, his aide, nodded. "The Surveyor is on Averam, picking up the final elements of the 132nd Stormtrooper regiment. They should be able to have something there in an hour."

Dakkon looked out across the starscape as the LY 2000 luxury yacht cruised through the inky abyss. He rubbed his hand across his face as he considered his options.

I need a shave...

"Is the fleet underway?"

Goris nodded.

Of course it is.

Dakkon smiled as he realised he would soon be back with his fleet, and with a reasonable command. Hopefully, with this contract done, he'd more than have the resources to reach some of the more hard to find, and therefore more valuable, aspects of the Jutraalian military. He knew he could have gone to Farfalen, with Kyric, but his desire for freedom, at the time, far exceeded his desire to maintain a true membership with the Jutraalian Empire.

Still, perhaps this was one step in the right direction...

Unknown Location

Kamon looked out the viewport in the bridge of the Serene Insolence at the massive expanse of space in front of him. This location was unknown to them, but since TTR was kind hearted twoards hounded governments they'd gone to the coordinates in the transmission. The three capital ships moved towards the planet in front of them.

"Status."

"Alert code Red. All weapons ready, shields at full."

"Good. Move the Somando to point. Keep the Serene Power and us on her flanks."

"Yes, sir."

"Let's do this gentlemen. Time to save us some people."

It had been a long time since she had ever answered to anyone in authority.

Answering Colonel Dyrien's questions and following his lead was surprisingly refreshing. Eventhough she sensed his apprehension, he had not let that interfer with what he had to do.

And yet, it seemed it was something Raven had yet to learn. Only minutes earlier, the young president had witnessed the hurricane of emotions as reflected in her eyes. His own words to about not letting her own anger destroy her seemed to mirror what she was advised of durring her padawan days.

Ah, her padawan days....they seemed like they happened a lifetime ago.

Raven took a calming breathe as she followed the Colonel's fighter out of the space station. She wasn't answering for herself anymore, there were the remaining members of Green Squardron that she was flying with that she had to be held accountable for.

She had once disgraced the honor of those who put trust in her, but she could not afford to do so again. So many mistakes were made, and Raven felt it was time for starting over. Perhaps here with the Kiyarans, after this was all over, she could have that chance. Maybe.