The Tion Cluster was no stranger to war. Over the long, bloody decades, the Tion Hegemony had been captured and fought over by a succession of conquerors-- Xim the Despot, The Imperial Empire, The Corperate Sector, and the Livien League-- before finally reclaiming its independence in the decade of the New Republic. But all these merely galactic conflicts were fleeting in comparison with the war now being fought on the moons and worlds of this ancient sector.

A war that, at long last, might be nearing its end.

Driving rain pelted the rooftops, while the howling seasonal wind carried a hint of winter's bite. A grotesque stone statue, oily black and slick with rain, perched on the crumbling ledge of the historic Vontor Palace, an imposing five-story building adorned by elaborate stonework. The one-hundred-year-old edifice, whose ground floor now housed the headquarters of Dellalt's mining companies, overlooked a large square, a busy hub of pedestrian and air traffic located near the heart of central Vontor. Air buses, taxis, and speeders zipped above the cobblestone streets below, braving the torrential downpour.

Another figure crouched beside the petrified statue, very nearly as still and silent: a beautiful woman, clad in an assassin's attire, with cropped, blonde hair and alabaster skin. Heedless of both the storm and her own percarious roost upon the narrow ledge, she gazed grimly from the rooftop. Her striking eyes were fixed on the teeming streets beneath her, even as her somber thoughts looked back upon months of unremitting warfare.

Could it truly be, Zem Renneyn reflected, that the war is almost over? Her elegant face, as pale and lovely as the twin moons above her, was a mask of cold-blooded concentration, betraying no sign of the restless anxieties troubling her mind. It seems unthinkable, and yet...

The Tion rebellion had been losing ground for nearly six weeks, ever since its crushing defeat on Caluula, when a daring assault team lead by General Grevious had penetrated the opposition's hidden storehouses embedded in a mountain range. Zen Elara, the rebellion's leader and a rumoured Jedi, was killed at last, his men scattered to the wind. At least, that is what the propaganda machine of the Black Dragon Empire was pumping out to the conquered masses under her rule. Zem knew better. He was alive and well, and the fleet of General Grevious had been hunting for him. For close to six weeks, the death commandos, an elite squad of BDE stormtroopers, had pursued the surviving Tion resistance, the planet locations changing but never the tactics: hunt the rebels down, and kill them off, one by one. A most successful campaign.

Perhaps too successful she mused ruefully. The transparent veil covering her pristine face flapped in the wind as she leaned forward over the edge of the rooftop, dangerously defying gravity. A five-story plunge beckoned precipitously, but Zem's mind still dwelt on the war and its potential aftermath. According to all their intel, obtained at great cost by undercover agents and paid informants, both alien and human, the Tion rebellion were scattered and in disarray after Caluula, their numbers scant and diminishing. After countless weeks of brutal combat, it appeared the rebels finally had become an endangered number, a thought that filled Zem with profoundly mixed feelings.

For she was one of the them in the past, right at the beginning of the war. Right when the Black Dragon Empire made its jump into their sector. She was one of the first of their prisoners, captured back on Risban and spared her life to serve them. In addition, the credits she had amounted to her account continued to give her the incentive to continue her betrayal, which still continued to eat her inside.

The icy rain sluiced down her face and form, forming sooty puddles on the ornate rooftop. The smoggy night air smelled of the mined materials of this world, as smokestacks in the distance belched its filth into the skies. Zem ignored the fierce wind and rain, maintaining her stakeout upon the ledge. She searched intently for her prey, craving action to dispel the melancholy doubts haunting her mind. She glanced impatiently at the clock tower of another building, on the other side of the busy square.

The crowded slidewalks below were choked with various sentients scurrying about in the rain, defying the storm from beneath their concealing attire. Zem clenched her fists in frustration, her nails digging into her ivory palms. Surveillance teams had reported Zen Elara was supposed to meet the rebel leaders of Dellalt in this district, but she had yet to spot a single target. Where are you hiding, you damn Jedi? she thought irritably.

Looking past two pedestrians from below, she found her eyes briefly snared by a good-looking young man trekking through the rain. Ruggedly handsome, with light brown hair and a disarmingly scruffy fringe of whiskers, he was dressed casually in a spacer jacket, dark trousers, and boots. No weather attire shielded his slender person from the storm, and he hurried east with his hands cupped above his head. Something about his manner and bearing suggested to Zem that the attractive youth was the Jedi she had been dispatched to locate. She felt a twinge of regret that she couldn't get a closer look at his face.

Zem looked up to see if her fellow BDE comrades had detected the Jedi as well. A smile of satisfaction lifted her lips as she saw that, atop an office structure on the other side of a dingy alley, one of them had his holocamera out and was busily taking snapshots of the unsuspecting Jedi below them. Examining the holophotos afterward would help Zem confirm the figure was Zen Elara, the leader of the Tion rebellion and the hunted Jedi.

She raised the comlink to her lips. "Copy. This is Zem. I think I've found your target." She squinted at one of the BDE death commandos signalling her, awaiting his orders to proceed.

"Inform General Grevious that we may have found his Jedi..."

"Your name," he said, his voice excruciatingly calm.

"Vakil," the rebel seated in front of him answered in an accented Basic, his eyes wary.

"Where is the Jedi? Our sources have seen you accompany him while he was walking the rainy streets," he questioned harshly.

"I don't know."

Grevious's pale-armored mask arched downward, just a bit. "I suppose the other rebel we conveniently eliminated, knows?"

Vakil started to gesture to the side, changed his mind in midmotion. "We were dispatched to protect him, nothing more." A flicker of defiance touched his eyes. "Even if I did know, do you think I would tell you? That is why I helped him escape and let myself get captured. The Black Dragon Empire don't have a glimpse of winning this war. The Cronese Mandate and Allied Tion will seek help by that time."

"Is that what the rebel propaganda is spilling out to its supporters? I would think you would have a better story."

The rebel held his gaze evenly. "You won't find him. The blonde you sent failed in capturing him, but she was good enough to catch me. For all I know, he may have left the spaceport."

For a long moment, the tall, caped, cyborg general studied him. "I can find him. I can sense his presence, although he is clever in cloaking himself in the Force."

"General, Zem Renneyn is on her comlink," one of his death commandos spoke up in the background, a finger on his earpiece.

Slowly, deliberately, Grevious turned to his caped guard, standing rigidly at attention with his back to the wall inside Vontor Palace. "Has our tracker found him?"

"Yes, sir," he replied. "She has reaquired his location. The Jedi is heading toward the mining facilities in sector one. We can intercept him there."

"Good." The Supreme Commander of the Black Dragon Empire threw a brief glance back down at the rebel. "If that is the case, I believe we will no longer need this rebel's services to find his location."

"You won't get away with this. If the rebellion finds out what has happened, they won't stop until you are all dead."

"I see." General Grevious considered a moment, then half turned to look past one of his commando's shoulder. "Lt. Kix Davin."

Grevious waited until his soldier was standing at his side, then turned back to the rebel. "We have the advantage here. The Tion rebellion knows better than to cross the Black Dragon Empire, especially after we secured Dellalt as ours now. If the governor of this planet wishes a future alliance with us to preserve his beloved planet, he will simply overlook the loss of a Jedi as a casualty, nothing more."

The interior of the captured palace had gone deathly still. The rebel swallowed again, his face starting to go pale. "Our governor will never hand over his citizens to lowlife scum like you. You are bluffing. Like I said, you won't find the Jedi. Give it up. You are finished."

General Grevious raised a pointed, metal finger-- the blaster rifle belonging to Lt. Davin levelled to the prisoner...

And, almost lazily, pointed.

Vakil never even saw the death commando squeeze the trigger. The rebel certainly never had time to scream.

General Grevious glanced over Davin's shoulder again and gestured, and the silence was further broken by the sound of the other commandos in his team coming forward. "Dispose of it," the cyborg menace ordered them, turning away from the rebel's crumpled body and pinning the Lieutanant Commander with a stare.

He held Davin's eyes another heartbeat. Then, seemingly oblivious to the tension around him, he gave another order. "I want you to rendezvous with Zem Renneyn and find Zen Elara," he said, all calm business again. "I will be following behind to confront him."

"Yes, sir."

General Grevious shook his head. "Good. The capture of the Jedi is top priority at the moment. Carry out your orders, Lieutanant. I need him alive.... or otherwise."



Zen Elara rubbed his stiff neck as he walked toward the direction of the mining facilities of Dellalt, giving the immediate area a quick scan for any suspicious characters as paced to meet with the rebellion. Through the gaps between the nearest buildings he could see the more distant parts of the city, most of it composed of the same filth and grime so favored by the locals. Across the street were more grimy structures of factories; between him and them was the usual flow of downtrodden pedestrians hurrying to and from the market areas. Reflexively, the sandy-haired Jedi glanced across each of the narrow pedestrian alleyways between the buildings as he continued his stroll.

Between two of them, back at the building's rear where he was hardly visible, was a motionless figure of a woman.

Staring in his direction.

Zen let his gaze drift on as if he hadn't seen her, his heart thudding suddenly in his throat. He turned toward the market area and joined the flow of traffic.

He didn't stay with it long, though. As soon as he was out of the mysterious loiterer's line of sight, he began cutting his way across the flow, heading across the street toward the factory row. He reached it three buildings down from the loiterer, ducked into the alleyway, and hurried toward the rear. If this person was indeed monitoring his tracks, there was a good chance he could take her from behind.

He reached the rear of the building and circled around... only to find that his quarry had vanished.

For a moment he stood there, looking around him for any sign of the person's whereabouts, wondering what to do now. Zen looked down at the ground where the woman had been standing. There were a few faint footprints in the thin coating of grime that had collected at the corner of the building, giving the impression that the person had been there long enough to shuffle her feet a few times. A half dozen steps away, right in the center of another layer of grime, was a clear footprint pointing toward the west behind the row of factories.

The Jedi looked in that direction, feeling his lip twist. A deliberate lead-on, obviously-- footprints in grime never came out that clear and unsmudged unless carefully planned.

And he was right. A hundred meters directly ahead, strolling casually along the rear of the buildings, was the same feminine figure he saw before. A not very subtle invitation to follow her.

Okay... you want to play? Let's play... He started off after her, his fingers drawing close to his clipped lightsaber.

But Zen had no intention of following her completely into her trap. Double-checking the lightsaber clipped to his left hip, he cut through an alley between the buildings to his right and headed north. If his quarry had kept with the leisurely pace of a woman who didn't want to lose a tracker, he should now have enough time to prepare a little reception for her.

As he looked carefully around the corner of a building into the street he'd first turned onto, he discovered that the person's imagination was as limited as her surveillance technique. Halfway down the block, she was crouched motionless behind a row of storage barrels with her back to him, something that was probably a weapon clutched ready in her hand. Waiting, no doubt, for him to stroll into her trap.

Amateur... Zen Elara thought, lip twisting in contempt. Watching her closely, he eased around the corner and started silently toward the blonde woman, easing himself into the Force.

He suddenly sensed another presence.

"That's good enough Jedi," a mocking voice said from behind him. Zen froze for a nanosecond, then reacted quickly.

The Jedi Knight leaned to his right-- a sudden gesture of defense-- then abruptly, without warning, swept his left foot off the ground, pivoting, his heel plunging into the armed figure's hand, sending the blaster upward, reeling the man backward. Zen completed his pivot, his shoulder crashing into the woman's stomach who leaped from her position behind the barrels, his right hand surging into her chest, his left pinning the hand with the comlink. He hurled the woman into the wall. The comlink flew across the alleyway.

Zem Elara grabbed the blonde assassin in front of him now, his left arm around the woman's throat, his right hand tearing at the the woman's left ear. "How many?!" he asked in anger. "How many of you are tracking me?! Where are they?"

"I am here," another voice rang out behind him. The Jedi turned to see a presence he had never sensed before, an overwhelming evil that emanated from within. It was tall, regal, and cybernetic. His metal body was enveloped by a gray cape which draped down to his knees.

"I have been waiting for you, Zen Elara. Again, we meet for the last time."

"General Grevious," the words hissed from the Jedi's lips. Zem quickly loosened herself from his grip and pushed away, drawing her weapon.

"Let him be, Zem," the cyborg general commanded. "He is mine. Leave and inform my men I have found him."

The Jedi drew his lightsaber and ignited it.

General Grevious drew his and ignited the amber blade.

General Grevious appeared out of the shadow of the corridor, a pale cowled robe cloaked its body, as he rose its amber blade upward to prepare for the impending duel between the Jedi, and himself. The cyborg general eyed the young man, as Zen stood with his blade ignited, approaching cautiously. The Jedi experienced a surge of confidence and felt completely ready to face the mechanical monster, as one Jedi against another Force user.

"There is no escape, Zen. Your destiny lies with serving our Imperium now, or you will suffer your fate by my hands," its mechanical voice ringing with a chilling effect. General Grevious made his approach, his amber blade barely touching the end of Zen's, as they both circled around each other. Through its folds Zen glimpsed the general's true form: gleaming metallic limbs, six-fingered hands like robotic claws. When it turned its head, searching for an attack, Zen saw its eyes. Suddenly, and with horrible certainty, he knew he was looking upon the most powerful, most lethal threat he had ever faced.

The surge of adrenaline impelled Zen to lunge at it savagely, bringing his green blade down upon the general's. But effortlessly, Grevious deflected the blow with a defensive turn of its own weapon. Again, the young Jedi attacked. Once again their energy weapons clashed fiercly.

And then they stood, staring at one another for an endless moment through their crossed lightsabers. The crackling sounds of energy dancing in their ears, as the cybernetic being smiled wickedly at the Jedi under that pale armored head-- a head composed of interlocking bands of an alloy the Jedi had never seen before.

"It is useless to resist, Jedi. Who sent you here to stop me? The Jedi Order? The Observer Order? The Rogue Jedi Order?" Grevious taunted the Jedi. Zen pushed him back, and their lightsabers again clashed in the corridor of the buildings. The Jedi felt the ground beneath him shudder with every blow, parry, and thrust of their weapons. He looked to see the cyborg general undaunted, for with every thrust of his lightsaber, he drove the young Jedi back. His unorthodox fighting form and mechanical enhancements gave him an edge in close-quarters combat, and his strategic ingenuity and flawless cunning rendered him almost invincible against this Jedi.

Zen, using his lightsaber to ward off the cyborg's aggressive lunges, spoke calmly as they fought, "I have learned more than you have anticipated, Grevious. When I escape, I plan to relay everything to the Order about you and your plans." He parried another blow from the amber blade of Grevious, and drove him back with another series of thrusts.

"I think not," was the calm, portentous reply from the Supreme Commander of the Black Dragon Empire.

With two graceful moves, General Grevious hooked Zen's weapon out of his hands and sent it flying away. A slash of the BDE general's energy blade at the Jedi's feet, made the youth jump back in an effort to protect himself.

But he stumbled backward, and fell upon the cold, stone floor.

Sprawled upon the corridor, Zen Elara gazed up and saw the ominous cybernetic figure looming above him, his amber blade edging closer to his face as he backed away from the advancing mechanical being.

"Impressive young one, your skills are formidable. Now surrender to me. I was the one who arranged the Imperium to take this sector. I was the one who caused the slaughter of many by the Black Dragon Empire. Take your revenge." The influence of General Grevious was incredibly strong; it seemed to Zen like a thing alive. He resisted the BDE general by spiting him.

"I'll die first," Zen proclaimed.

"If that is your destiny, young Jedi." The mechanical being suddenly lunged at the Jedi with his amber blade, but Zen quickly rolled to one side, not taking his eyes off Grevious, as he leapt back onto his feet across from him. He reached his hand out and his lightsaber, lying on another part of the corridor, flew back into his grip. Immediately the green blade ignited. The energy swords clashed again with a deadly hiss.

"Your hatred can give you the power to destroy me," Grevious tempted. "Use it."

Zen began to realize how awesomely powerful his mechanical enemy was, and gathered his strength; his knees were nearly buckling with the exhaustion of battling his fearsome opponent.

Gaining control over his negative feelings, Zen began to advance, ignoring Grevious' goading, as the confrontation continued.

Charging menacingly toward Zen, the cyborg general predicted. "Your rebellion will never survive and neither will you. It is useless to resist now. Accept your fate, young Jedi."

General Grevious took another step, and the leader of the Tion rebellion immediately raised his blade, ready to renew the battle.

But Zen did resist. He lunged at the general with a vicious blow, bringing his sizzling green energy blade to crash onto the cyborg's amber blade. Grevious staggered from the blow, and it seem to the young Jedi that he may yet have a chance. But only for a moment. Then, once again, General Grevious began to move toward him.

Zen was breathing hard, cold sweat dropping from his forehead. The words of his old master reminding him to keep focused.

But the grimly pale-cloaked specter stalked toward him along the narrow exterior section of the building and it was adamant it wanted the young Jedi's life. Dellalt's breeze that shrieked about entirely absorbed the sounds of the clashing lightsabers.

Zen moved agilely across an exterior gantry and took refuge beneath a huge instrument panel to evade his pursuing foe, but Grevious was there in an instant. The general's lightsaber quickly thrashing down like an amber luminescent guillotine blade, cutting the instrument complex loose. The complex began to fall, but was abruptly caught by the outside wind, and blown toward the face of the building.

The Jedi continued his battle, and stepped backward along the gantry until he reached its extreme end, stalked all the while by his pale-garbed foe. Aruptly, ominously, the outside wind subsided for a moment. And Zen realized he had nowhere else to go.

"There is no escape now," the cyborg general warned, looming over the Jedi like a pale, mechanical angel of death. The amber blade of Grevious edging closer to the young Jedi Knight, as he stood with his blade in defense. "Accept your fate, or come with me. I will complete your training, and you will serve under our Imperium."

Zen's mind whirled with those words. His mind screamed louder than any wind from Dellalt could ever whisk against him, as he stood outside at the gantry's dead end outside the building.

General Grevious again moved slowly to the end of the gantry, as Zen Elara prepared for the final conflict.

Lightsaber high above his head, Zen readied his attack from classic first-position; the BDE general held a lateral stance, in classic answer. Without announcement, the Jedi brought his green blade straight down. General Grevious quickly moved to parry as the young boy then feinted to cut low. The general counterparried, grasping tightly the hilt of its lightsaber, and let the impact direct its amber blade toward the Jedi's throat. Zen met the riposte and stepped back. The first blows, traded without injury. Again, they attacked each other upon the gantry at the exterior of the mining facility.

The Force users battled fiercely, the air igniting from the clash of their radiant weapons, but it was soon evident that the advantage was all given to the general of the Black Dragon Empire. And he was pressing it. They locked sabers, body to body. When Grevious pushed Zen back to break the clinch, the young Jedi stumbled backward upon the gantry walkway. The cybernetic general pursued him relentlessly.

"Give yourself to me, Zen," Grevious entreated. "You lost Caluula and you have now lost Dellalt. It is the only way you can save yourself."

Before Zen could gather his thoughts much further, General Grevious attacked again... much more aggressively. It advanced in a flurry of lunges, each met with a loud crack of the Jedi's green blade. The Jedi retreated a step at each slash, swiveling once to bring his cutting blade up viciously.

But the mechanical menace batted it away, pushing Zen back yet again. The young Jedi momentarily lost his footing upon the walkway of the gantry, and tumbled to his knees.

General Grevious stood above him, heady with his own power. It was in his hands, now, he knew it was. He could now end this. Take his blade, take his life. The cyborg general gloried in his victory. He engorged himself with the Force, felt it's power tingle its soul. It was time to end this conflict, as the defeated Jedi looked upon his fate in sheer helplessness.

The Supreme Commander of the Black Dragon Empire took one step forward to lower his amber blade down...

And took the Jedi's life.

The pale, cowled, cybernetic being peered at the dead Jedi at its feet. This was an unexpected circumstance. Unexpected and unwelcome. Grevious felt resentment crawling in on the tail of his first reaction, which was surprise. And then the edge of the resentment curled up, to reveal bald anger. It gripped the hilt of its lightsaber tighter in its hand, as Grevious addressed the Jedi.

"Fool! If only you could have seen what we have built!" it hissed at the corpse. "You would have been part of this Empire!"

But he was no longer alive to listen to his words. The young Jedi had sacrificed his life in order to defend what he believed in. At least now, he would no longer relay any information to the order he pertained to. The general then realized the klaxons were blaring throughout the city, indicating an attack upon it. Apparantly, the remainder of his fleet had reached orbit around Dellalt, and were preparing for their final attack, or were going to declare the planet to surrender to the Black Dragon Empire.

General Grevious stood silently. Its mechanical fingers quietly disengaged the lightsaber, and clipped its hilt back upon its metal hip. With its other hand, it extended its clawed fingers and called the dead Jedi's lightsaber with the Force. Grevious now claimed Zen's lightsaber as a trophy.

It turned and slowly walked off the gantry, its pale cloak billowing behind him.

The general's next destination would be a return to his flagship...

In the pristine silence of space, the second battle fleet of the Black Dragon Empire blossomed over the planet Dellalt like a beautiful, deadly flower.

The formation of capital ships sprang into view with startling suddenness, trailing fire-white wakes of twisted space and bristling with weapons. A lone Star Destroyer guarded fat-hulled Shoto-class battle cruisers, while the Cutter-class cruisers, their mirror finishes gleaming, took the point.

A halo of smaller ships appeared at the same time. The fighters among them quickly deployed in a spherical defensive screen. As the Shotos firmed up their formation, the Star Destroyer's flight decks quickly spawned scores of additional fighters.

At the same time, the battlecruisers began to disgorge the dropships, transports, and assault shuttles they had ferried to the battle. There was no reason to risk the loss of one fully loaded-- a lesson the Black Dragon Empire had learned in pain. At Lowick, one commander of a Cutter-class cruiser had kept his pilots waiting in the launch bays, to protect the smaller craft from enemy fire as long as possible before dropping down to the planet. They were still there when the cruiser took the brunt of a turbolaser attack and vanished in a ball of metal fire.

Before long more than fifty warships, large and small, were bearing down on Dellalt and its twin moons. But the terrible, restless power of the armada could be heard and felt only by the ships' crews. The silence of the approach was broken only on the fleet comm channels, which had cracked to life in the first moments with encoded bursts of noise and encrypted ship-to-ship chatter.

At the center of the formation of great vessels was the flagship of the battle group, the BDE Star Destroyer Sleeping Death. She was recently cleaned and overhauled after many planetary campaigns, that her corridors still reeked of sealing compound and cleaning solvent. Her huge realspace thruster engines were replaced with newer models which sang with a high-pitched squeal.

It would take more than a year for the mingled scents of the crew to displace the chemical smells from the first impressions of visitors. But after a hundred more hours under way, her engines' vibrations would drop two octaves, to the reassuring thrum of a seasoned thruster bank.

On Sleeping Death's bridge, a tall human in a black uniform paced along an arc of command stations equipped with large monitors. His eyes were weary from the long journey, and his rugged face was flushed red by concern. Before their arrival was even a minute old, General Grevious had already signalled the flagship.

"Administrator Anre, are you within our signal?" came the vocordered voice of the mechanical leader.

"Copy, General," he replied over the comm. His fingers tapped twice on the holoprojector and the image of General Grevious appeared and flickered. "What is your status on Dellalt?"

"The governor of Dellalt has recognized the sovereignty of the Black Dragon Empire and wishes to address the fleet above to stand down their weapons to discuss joining the Imperium," the general replied, the image flickering again for an instant, then recomposing itself.

"Very good, General," a wry smile played upon his lips. "It seems the presence of our fleet has convinced him that resistance is unwise at this point." He cleared his throat and changed the subject to another matter. "So, did you find your precious Jedi?"

"I have," Grevious replied in a quieter tone. "It was most unfortunate that I could not secure his capture. The Jedi took his own life before I could offer to spare him."

Sully Anre visibly frowned. "Yes, indeed, that is unfortunate. What of the Tion rebellion?"

"It is a fire put out." Grevious replied. "With their leader dead, their numbers will scatter like the wind. As of now, only one planet remains within our grasp, and then the Hegemony is ours."

"Excellent. I will inform Dameo about this new turn of events. They will be most pleased that our crusade will soon be at its end in the Tion Hegemony."

"And this I look forward to." Grevious added. The general's eyes bored into the administrator. "My shuttle will soon depart back to my flagship. My work is finished here. I believe it is time for your work to begin. The governor is most anticipated to begin negotiations."

"I'm sure he is, General." Sully replied. "My crew awaits you, Grevious. Anre, out." The holoprojector switched off.

The final campaign now awaited. Only one planet remained in the Tion Hegemony to be taken under the care of the Imperium. When the holy war ends on its soil, Dameo will look toward Allied Tion and the Cronese Mandate to expand her realm of belief. It was an exciting time to be within the Black Dragon Empire, and Sully had no doubt what glory it would bring when the Tion Cluster was theirs...