The League of Nations

Obroa-Skai, League Rotunda

Irola Thane was feeling rather ambivalent at the moment. Truthfully, he had been feeling so for quite some time now. More and more, he was finding it difficult to keep his loyalties to the League and the Coalition safely partitioned away from one another. The fact that he could see so clearly how desperately they needed one another wasn't helping matters, either.

And that was before the political maneuvering was even taken into account.

The League, like any representative governing body, had long ago divided itself up into little ideological groups. While less formal and far more amorphous than most political bodies, the influences and aims of these groups were nevertheless quite real, and any effort to effect legislative change had to take those variables into account.

Along one spectrum of ideologies, there were the isolationists, pacifists, militants, alliance-seekers, and so-on. Along an entirely separate – but often overlapping – spectrum, there were the nationalists, expansionists, free-traders, Imperial reconciliationists, and more. These weren't formal, named groups, of course; no one was going to push their agenda under the banner of the “Imperial Reconciliation Party,” for example, but the groups themselves were very real, and each required its own approach to win it over on a particular issue.

In this climate, getting anything but the most urgent and pressing legislative reform through was all but impossible, and even then, sometimes it took months to form the short-term alliances required to muster enough votes. And that thought was what brought Irola Thane to this moment, because the fate of the League rested on one such piece of proposed legislation, or more accurately, on an amendment to the League Charter.

Because the United Worlds of Ossus was not – could not be – a member of the League.

Except, it was.

But, it wasn't.

The problem went all the way back to the founding of the League, and the Empire's aims in creating it. The original League Charter (which, technically, remained the current League Charter) forbade any League member world from forming a mutual association with any other member world or worlds. That was, in fact, the reason that the Empire allowed Tirahnn to join the League; with a Coalition world already a member, no other League planets would be able to join the Coalition, as that would constitute a mutual association between Tirahnn and the other world which excluded all other League members.

And then Chaddwick Fearsons bought his way into the League with a promise of military protection from possible Imperial reprisal. The problem was, the Jutraalian Empire was an interplanetary government, meaning it could not be admitted into the League.

Except, it was.

But, it wasn't.

So great was the anti-Imperial fervor in those early months of the League's independence, that most simply considered the violation of the League Charter to be a demonstration against any Imperial claim over the League's operation. But it wasn't only that; it was, in fact, a violation of the founding document of the League. In time, that came to mean something again. Now, with the Dominion's declaration against Force-users still ringing in so many League representatives' ears, some are seeking to cut the United Worlds of Ossus free, to distance themselves from the pro-Jedi nation and possibly avoid the wrath of the Dominion in the process.

Preventing that from happening had been an uphill battle. A Charter amendment required approval by three-fourths of the League's representatives. The Jedi still held a great deal of influence in the League, but it wasn't enough, not even with the carrot of the former Jutraalian Navy that they held in hand.

Enter, Irola Thane and the Galactic Coalition. He could make promises that the UWO could not, promises to people who weren't swayed by war fleets and magic powers. He could make promises to the people who were looking for an economic solution to the League's troubles.

But what to do with that power? How might he cash in on the UWO's debt to him? And how might he protect his world and his League allies from the reprisals of those League members he would have to oppose?

He didn't like the answers that he'd found to those questions, but he could find no others and time was running short, so he made the deals, and he watched as the dominoes fell.

The amendment to the “mutual independence” clause of the League Charter passed by a reasonable margin. The head of the assembly, the Obroan Herron Fenn, immediately called for a vote to resolve the UWO's status. While internal alliances were no longer illegal, all members seeking such alliances were required to present their intentions publicly to the entire League Assembly, at which point special restrictions could be levied, alterations to the alliance could be demanded, or members could be jettisoned from the League outright, depending on the circumstances.

There was another option, though: no objection. The association could be confirmed by the League without any special restrictions or preconditions. This is what Irola Thane had bought for the UWO (along with the certainty of the amendment's passage, instead of only a reasonable likelihood). This, and a new member.

The moment the vote was tallied and the United Worlds of Ossus were confirmed as a legal member of the League of Nations without precondition, the representative from Rendili rose and presented her planet's petition to join the UWO. It, too, was permitted without objection from the League, and the UWO representatives accepted it on the spot. There was a little rumbling from the representatives most staunchly opposed to the UWO, but most of the assembly had seen this coming.

What far fewer of them had seen coming, was how the UWO had agreed to return the Coalition's back-scratching.

First up was Glee Anselm. The Anselmi representative made a rather impassioned, albeit brief, speech about the commitment of the Ryn reclamation fleet still at work on Glee Anselm, and the great joy with which the first Anselmi and Nautolan cities had recently been resettled on the world. He went on to express his people's sincerest sympathies for the Coalition's Azguard and Cooperative citizens who had recently suffered such horrible losses, noting that only a people who had lost their own home could truly appreciate that sort of suffering. He really seemed rather sincere, and the whole thing might have actually been quite heartwarming, if Irola hadn't known what was coming.

Because the Anselmi representative continued by explaining that his world was petitioning the Galactic Cooperative of Free States for admission and Protected Status in that organization. The gasps and shouts of derision that followed almost drowned out his explanation that, given so few native inhabitants had survived the attack on Glee Anselm, the world would be left mostly empty even after resettlement, and would therefore open itself to refugees as its ecosystem recovered. That last part was news to Irola Thane, and he thought it added a nice bookend to the ploy, although he wondered if it might actually be a sincere show of compassion on the part of the Anselmi and Nautolan people.

Whatever their true motives or intentions, with the reciprocated help of the UWO and its League supporters, Glee Anselm was allowed to pursue its chosen course without molestation. And that just left Irola and his closing maneuver.

Standing to his feet, he announced: “I bring to the League Assembly a petition for admittance from the Coalition planet of Brentaal.” It caught some completely by surprise. Others seemed relieved it was finally being brought up. None, except the one or two who were so insular in their scheming that they didn't actually know what Brentaal was, seemed willing to go as far as outrage.

Brentaal was a wealthy Coalition Core World - the only Coalition Core word, actually – and it was becoming incredibly valuable to the Coalition. Incredibly valuable, and incredibly vulnerable. The planet had essentially been “bought” from the Empire by the former Prime Minister, Regrad, and the Coalition was still in the process of democratizing the world. Gaining it the protection afforded by League membership would go a long way to assuaging the population's fears and engendering goodwill toward the Coalition before special elections could be held.

And once the votes of the League Assembly were cast and tallied, that was exactly what he'd done: gained membership for Brentaal.

It wasn't all that surprising, really. Brentaal was a huge trade world and a major financial hub. The tiny fraction of its wealth that the League would siphon off in the first quarter of taxes alone was worth more than the total contributions of some League worlds to date. Plus, its membership meant that a portion of the substantial, Coalition-subsidized Brentaal Defense Fleet would be reassigned to League duties. With the Core falling into chaos as the Dominion continued its unpredictable conquests, uprisings on Imperial worlds increasing in frequency, and early reports of a Reaver outbreak near Coruscant began to reach the League, the promise of more and stronger military capabilities for the League was quite enticing to some.

These were the opening moves of the new League of Nations, one who had finally begun to define itself on its own terms. Unfortunately for some and fortunately for others, this “new League identity” opened up the opportunity for LoN membership to far more planets and foreign powers.

The League was changing. Only time would tell if it was for better, or for worse.

A shadow fell over the palace, casting the environs into a brief darkness. Unlike the night to soon fall, this shadow was not of a natural making but was cast by the eclipse of a Super Star Destroyer gliding between the planet and sun. The Dominion was gone in an instant, just as was the greatness of the Empire that was known as the New Order. Light spilled forth once more into the palace, illuminating the beacon that would guide the Empire into newfound glory.

Footfalls echoed through the marble halls as a small procession proceeded through the palace. Three men were making their way forward, all of old age and stature. Soon they arrived at their destination and hurried through the great oaken doorway. One of them turned to face his comrades.

"It is confirmed then?" asked the white haired man that towered over the other two.

"Yes Emperor Kraken. Imperial Intelligence has confirmed the reports as being valid. They also send their apologies for the delay in confirmation," replied one of the two shorter men.

"Well then gentlemen, this presents us with a disturbing yet interesting quandary. While we don't need another conflict so soon, the restless refugees have been given a diversion to focus their attention on. While I would rather keep our alien members in rank, their numbers are thin amongst the refugees. Some strife might need to be suffered in order to placate the masses," murmured the Emperor.

"In addition, many of the largest alien members have left the Empire, with many having joined with other groups, lost contact with the Empire, or overran by the Reavers and Cree'Ar and therefore either purged or forgotten about. Returning to a human focused Empire would not be a bad thing at the present time per say," spoke up the shorter man that hadn't said anything yet.

"While that is a good point General Helmslay I will not reverse all of my previous work into integrating alien species into the Empire as common citizens. For now we will permit and perhaps encourage protests and small acts of violence against aliens that have larger memberships in those membership states that are hostile towards the Empire. Those that are largely neutral or members of the Empire will not be touched and perhaps even rewarded for their loyalty with promotions for their more prominent representatives," Park replied.

"While that is one aspect to be considered, another more immediate pressing concern will be what to do about the war itself once it breaks out as it at this point inevitably will and how we will fight it," spoke up the shorter man in the Admiral's uniform.

"Don't worry Admiral Guervo I have a plan in place. I'm fully aware that we need to keep enough strength in reserve to fight the Cree'Ar along with the possibility of a resurgence in Reaver activity plus the appearance of another unknown threat should one appear. In fact, most of our strength will end up being held back. We must fight this war with a minimal amount of our armed forces, particularly as we are still recovering after being caught between the hammer and anvil known as the Cree'Ar and Reavers," Park said with a sigh at the end.

"Not to mention General Vos running amok across the Galaxy with the heavily reinforced SS," grumbled Helmslay.

"Now now, he and his forces are doing useful work for the Empire and Galaxy at large. Perhaps one day I or my eventual successor will allow his accomplishments to be divulged to High Command and the General Public. Perhaps," admonished Kraken.

"My concern is how we're currently set up territorial wise. We have a number of fortress worlds and sectors strung throughout the Galaxy plus our primary territories here near the current capital of the Empire as well as our expansion into the Unknown Regions. This will be a difficult war to prosecute for us," stressed Admiral Guervo.

"It will be difficult only if we allow it to be so. The key here is time, time to rebuild our industrial base, fleets, and armies. The fortress worlds and sectors you mentioned will be our bastion against Republic Offensives, which we will have to keep resupplied and intact. Although the greater Galaxy believes us to have made the first move with the incident, in fact we will wait for the Republic to launch offensives first. If we can stall those assaults and defeat them then it will buy us the time needed to rebuild and then we can take the war to them on our own terms," Kraken dictated.

"How will we keep our fortress worlds and sectors resupplied and stocked? The Reavers are still out there and pirates are worse than ever," asked Helmslay.

"Pirates can be hired to attack Republic shipping or paid tribute to keep away. Both can be eradicated by brute military force. Certainly we will try to use the pirates and perhaps even the Reavers to our advantage, although past experiments in that latter regards have proven costly and unsuccessful for us," Park said with unfond memories of Corellia.

"Armed convoys will tax our military reserves," warned Admiral Guervo.

"Which is why we shall send a number of Expeditionary Forces instead of regular convoys. These Expeditions will be given ample supplies and weaponry to hold their assigned planets and sectors until such a time that we have ample strength to begin conducting offensive operations," explained Kraken.

"You know, we could launch some offensives early on," Guervo advised.

"Yes and we will, but those will be limited to Special Forces and other sneaky tactics plus reconnaissance. Come now, this meeting will be adjourned in favor of a slightly larger one in 1430 hours," said Emperor Kraken, leading the men back out of the study room into the main hall.

"Yes my Emperor. Might I say that it is good having you back again and fully healthy at that? Your sudden appearance earlier this morning was quite a shock to all of us," stated Admiral Guervo.

"Indeed. I have already seen and heard the reports of my return and the excitement it has generated. In due time the story of my miraculous recovery and what I've been doing in the time of my absence will be made known," Kraken said with a wink as the men went their separate ways.

Quanta Sector
Deep Space Near the Tinnel System
32nd rapid response group rally point

Reshmar stood at the head of the large holo table thinking of what he was going to say. He hated the situation he was in. Once again he was left with too little Intel and not enough forces. He had no idea what the situation was at Duro. The transmission had been short and gave no data other then the population supported by Alliance assets had began an uprising in the goal to liberate the planet. That's a joke he thought to himself. Even if they took the planet holding it against an Imperial counter attack so close to the core would be impossible at best. The logistics were a nightmare. Supply lines would be less than reliable. The sector was in Chaos, Corellia, among other core worlds, had been lost and the Empire's nose bloodied. Losing another core shipwright world would put the Empire in a Bad spot. Duro was a prize Reshmar could not help but think was too costly. Yet here he was taking a handful of ships. All of which had skeleton crews, into battle against who knows what.

"Admiral, nice to se you,"

General Forlon voice brought Reshmar's mind back to the task at hand. The General walked up beside Reshmar accompanied by his chief and the CAG. The four circled the table as Reshmar brought up a hologram.

"Gentlemen, This is what I have planned."

Reshmar ran through his idea and took questions and comments from the group. It was truly a nightmare situation. Forlon had even compared it to riding a Bantha through a sand storm blind folded while sitting backwards. Reshmar had no idea what that meant but he knew what the General meant. The battle before them was the worst kind. Unknown.

"Commander Forti, What is the situation with the wing?"

Reshmar looked to the Commander of the Air Group for an answer he knew he would not like.

"Admiral, if I may."

Commander Forti took the halo table control and entered in a set of commands. A small list popped up containing the small task forces assets.

"This is a list of current squadrons and their operation status. Most are at half or better, but a few are down to a flight at best. I have consolidated smaller squadrons into full operational squadrons and assigned them new Commanders. At best we can field seven full fighter squadrons and a small group of Bombers which make up less than a squadron. We do however have thirty six Blastboats. I am in the process of assigning crews for them as we speak. I estimate fielding no more than sixteen of these."

General Forlon looked over the hologram before him as Commander Forti spoke. He did not like the way things were stacking up. Besides the Paladin, The small group consisted of a Majestic Heavy Cruiser, a Liberator Cruiser, two Nebulon B frigates, and four gunships. All of which had damage of some kind. He waited for Forti to finish then took the controls.

"As for assault forces. I have two full regiments on board and another on the Gryphon. We could use those extra Blastboats commander. I have spoken with my commanders and each knows their assignments. We have no idea what were headed into so I told them to proceed as they thought best when picking targets after the initial drop. The gunship force will split up and run cover for the assault force if needed."

Reshmar listened and tried to keep his mind from wondering off. Another pointless fight for who know who was in charge this week. Fleet command had been silent for a long time. The message was not even from them as it read. The transmission had been back traced to a fleet relay station who when contacted said they had no contact with Fleet Command. Just had the right codes on the transmission to be rebroadcast. Who was running things now? Where was Alliance command? Reshmar told himself after this nightmare is over he would get to the bottom of that. For now he had other problems. He took the table controls and brought up a large view of the system.

"This is our entry point., We will jump in behind Koli, From here we will launch a ferret recon picket and get a better idea of whats were facing. From point of reversion we are twenty seven standard minutes outside Duro's Sensors. I want to see what were hitting first before it see's us. We will jump line abreast formation with the fighter squadrons deployed and at our flanks. Gryphon will be to our starboard flank and Farragut to our Port. The frigates will act as pickets to our for and aft as we move into the system. We stay tight going in and hide for as long as we can. What we know is The Empire fortified the defense network and as of out last Intel report we will be facing no fewer than four Gollan II Battle stations. Also look for smaller weapons platforms and mine clusters. This will be no walk in the park. We will be at out best. Or we will not make it out alive."

Reshmar brought up a flight path and planned assignment displays for the others to see. They worked out the final details and the meeting wrapped up. The men went to their tasks, Forlon had his last minute assault planning to do with his commanders and the others worked out their final orders with sub-ordinates. Reshmar turned to look out the forward view port of the Paladin. Once again he thought to himself. His mind awash with anything and everything that could go wrong. He had been in this position too many times as of late. He hated his position at this point. He was no coward but he was no fool. He would have never approved any action this close to the core. Not with the Empire reeling and the Dominion expanding its squeeze on the galaxy. But he was not the one who made these choices. He was and always will be the man who cleanse up the mess afterwards.

Bburru Station, Duro
Reaver Day + 1


The station command and control center was in a constant state of semi-organized anarchy. Imperial memorabilia from the most imminently defunct planetary government still strewn about, hanging at angles off of walls and in corners where they had been cleared away from the vital functions of the capital’s nerve center.

This was ground zero. If containment procedures were breached here, the entire station would be lost. And so here Mazik stood, against all recommendations from his senior staff and the candidates for the soon-to-be appointed provisional government, unwavering in his fanatical belief that Duro could still be saved.

The statistics were less kind, given the scenario.

It was not as if the world lacked the resources to defend itself. It was a simple question of manpower. The barebones naval assets that had been either too damaged or pre-assigned to priority personnel to join the nearly wholescale Imperial evacuation could be retrofitted into a dilapidated armada given enough time, and for the moment the planetary defenses were keeping the bulk of the Reaver force at bay, but having the ships was one thing.

Having the people to fly them, that was quite another.

The crews were all Imperial military, and those not in POW camps awaiting contact to be established with Vladet for prisoner exchange had gone to ground amongst the populace. And Mazik’s men...they came from all walks of life, and amongst them were some of the fiercest fighters he had ever known, but they were guerilla warriors, untrained resistance. They weren’t Navysouls.

Worst case scenario, he believed they had enough talent amongst his people and those loyal to their cause amongst the populace to rig a single skeleton crew, and enough untrained labor to make up for the lack of manpower, but one ship against a Reaver fleet was even more assuredly a suicide mission than staying on Bburru.

As he watched over his subordinates, frantically trying to find solutions where there were none to be found as well as struggling to maintain the planetary infrastructure in a time of a total bureaucratic collapse and what could qualify is that most striking case of clear and present danger in Duro’s history, he could not help but wonder what it had all really been for.

All my life I’ve fought for the ideals of the Alliance, of the New Republic. And yet here I am, having just overthrown a government far more similar to the two than my own.

How could it have come to this?

“Force take the Dominion,” he muttered, “We get out of this, I burn every Cree’Ar sithspawn I can find.”

“What was that, sir?” an attendant asked, a young native that reminded the Captain entirely too much of himself a dozen lifetimes ago.

“Nothing, give me a status report,” he barked, determined not to let staring what he was fighting for in the face phase him for a second.

“Uh-yes sir,” the young duros managed, “The Golan platforms are keeping the larger war vessels from crossing the defense perimeter’s killzone, but they’re still regularly sending out smaller raiding parties that the platforms can’t track on autopilot. Station defenses are fighting off the worse of it, but infection zones have begun to grow on multiple stations, and the more the Reavers manage to focus their efforts, the worse its getting.”

Blast. In a galaxy without the until recently under appreciated luxury of the HoloNet, reliable tactical information on a threat even as large scale as the Reavers was hard to come by, but many of the Rebels under his command were independents, whether they be freedom fighters or mere mercenaries.

Some had known comrades who had operated within the Imperial Borderlands, some had actually been there themselves for a time, before things got too hot. When it came to the Rebel Alliance, there was no better repository for how to kill Reavers practically functioning in the galaxy as far as Mazik was concerned.

And they were fast learners, by the direst of necessities.

“Understood, take this down,” Stazi commanded, turning slightly away from the aide and staring out at the city below, still smoldering from the hell he and his men had put it through over the past month, “I want you to gather as many willing locals as you can, pilots and men and women with experience using heavy machinery. Manufacturing, construction, get me duros that know how to work with their hands, as well as anyone with prior military experience.

Find as many shuttles as you can still on the station, and organize teams out to the planetary defenses. I know the Imps took all the training with them, but see if they can make heads or tails of the tracking systems, relieve the strain on station defenses.”

“Yes, sir. And, sir?”

“Yes, what is it?” Mazik asked, someone surprised at the courage of the young man to be so bold to one of the Captain’s reputation.

“I feel its my duty to-I mean, that I should remind you of all viable alternatives,” the young duros sputtered.

“You have an idea, son? Let’s hear it.”

“Well, sir, its just that. My family’s lived on Bburru for a long time and…” he trailed off, as if embarrassed, and then began again suddenly, “She’s hyperdrive capable, sir. A lot of the stations in orbit are.”

He closed his eyes. Damn the folly of youth!

“Yes, I am aware of that.”

“Of-of course you were, sir!” the young man rushed to apologize, as if he had already expected the answer, “Forgive me.”

“No, you were only doing your duty,” he waved his hand away, and he wondered if it was genuine or a part of the leadership charade, “I hope it won’t come to that, son, but I promise you.

Bburru Station will not fall. Not today, not any day. This is Duro, this is our world.”

“Yes sir!”

The aide moved off, and when Stazi was comfortable again in the sea of chaos all around him, he finally let his shoulders slump. He stared out, across the city and past it, outside the station but not towards the Reavers. Instead, he gazed down at Duro, at the wasteland of the surface, the wasteland his own people had created.

He could not help but feel, as he grasped at the still burning embers of his world, as if he were destined to repeat the sins of his fathers.

“Our world. To the last man.”

Conference Chamber Lambda, Imperial High Command

The Emperor was flanked by two bodyguards as he strode into the war room which already contained all four senior officers that would be involved in the Military Expeditions. Wasting no time for anything except to wave them at ease, Park walked to the podium at the center of the room with the holoprojector and cleared his throat before beginning.

"Before we get into the specifics, we need to address a few changes with the overall strategy. There will still be four Expeditionary Fleets, each one commanded by one of you, but three of them will have new assignments. For once, diplomacy has paid dividends as we move deeper into this crisis. Non-Aggression Treaties have been signed with the Kathol Republic and newly formed Bothan Empire as well as other minor realms, limiting the scope of what we now face.

"Three of the Expeditions will have similar tasks at hand. First I will address the Expedition that has yet been unchanged."

"Commodore Marisse Stahvka will lead a small element of some twenty five capital ships and ten auxiliaries loaded with supplies, ammunition, and spare parts to the world of Druckenwell, where inventory of the situation will be taken stock and options assessed. Depending on what she finds when the expedition arrives, the fleet will either stay, conduct immediate military action, or withdraw. Commodore, you will have your work cut out for you."

"Next, Admiral Reinhardt Guervo will lead a strong fleet of some seventy five capital ships and about twenty five auxiliaries to the Elrood Sector. This Sector has recently fallen to a combination of Rebels, Traitors, and Alliance forces. Due to the various treaties we've brokered, the Alliance has withdrawn, leaving the Rebels and Traitors behind. A sizeable force they still pose, but it will be nullified by what General Amott Helmslay brings to the table. General, you will lead a Task Force composed of several capital ships and transports to the Bothan Sector where you will rendezvous with the Fourth Fleet. Upon your arrival you will take charge of the entire Fourth Fleet and move it to the Elrood Sector. Between your strength and Admiral Guervo's, you should be able to easily crush the Rebels and Traitors and then retake the occupied planets. Once the two fleets meet at the Coyn system Admiral Guervo will take charge of Space Ops while the General will handle all Ground Ops."

"Next up is the task being given to Vice Admiral Victore Bentley. Admiral Bentley, you will lead a force of Heavy Cruisers, Transports loaded with fresh Academy crews, and Tugs to Bothan Space. As part of the treaty agreement, any dockyards, ships under construction, and military space stations can be transported back to friendly space and your task will be to see to it that they make it back here safely. Once you've arrived back in Imperial Space proper you will be assigned to more action oriented tasks," Emperor Kraken finished summarizing.

"I've given you plenty to think on, but the forces have already almost been assembled and you will all depart within the next twenty four hours or earlier if ready. Glory to the Empire!" said Kraken emphatically.

"Gloria Imperium!" the officers all stood and saluted as they shouted their response. When he nodded, they all dropped the salutes and turned about to head to their respective commands. Things were about to get very busy around here.

Duro System
Koli Orbit
Reaver Day +2

The blanket of stretched star lines terminated as the ships of the 32nd rapid response force arrived in the Duro system. The massive form of Paladin slowly accelerated and took up a high orbit around the Frozen world of Koli, the third planet in the system. One of its two moons sat off in the distance reflecting light back from the Duros systems sun. The second was on the far side of the world slowly moving to take its siblings place. Farragut moved to a position just fore of Paladin while Gryphon took up at her starboard side. The frigates and gunships fell in and the group came to rest in orbit around the icy world.

"Commander Forti, Please launch the recon force."

Reshmar sat looking at the image of the ice covered world of Kori. It made Hoth look like a tourist resort. The atmosphere was twice as cold as Hoth and was anything but breathable. A set of small craft sped away from the group and moved around the horizon of Koli. Immediately data began transmitting. A sensor tech began reading the data and sorting what was incoming. Range, temperature solar energy, The Ferret Recon Drones were streaming everything back as they were desgined to. Slowly as the ferrets moved away from Koli and closed to sensor range with Duro it began painting targets.

"Sir, range to Pellezara, seven hundred and sixty four million kilometers."

Reshmar nodded and sat waiting for the small craft to show him what was going on. Twenty minutes went by as the craft sped towards Duro. Painting targets and laying out a map of the system as they went. As of yet the small probes had not been painted by Duros Defense's. This troubled Reshmar. They should have seen the drones ten minutes ago. Now they were close enough for short ranged sensors to spot. Something was wrong. Then as in on cue Images began to pop up on the screen. The drones had made it to optical range. Still nothing more than tiny dots there were still dots all the same. There were ships above Duro and the Stations also, but what was more interesting was the stations were fighting the ships. Reshmar stood as the images continued. There was fighting which ment out there the Alliance was still alive and neded help.

"Captain, ETA to weapons range?"

Captain Jasp looked over some data on his command stations display. He entered in a set of ranges and targets and them returned an answer.

"At best speed Farragut and Gryphon could engage tango one in fourteen minutes. The rest of the group is twenty one minutes from weapons range."

Reshmar nodded and thought to himself Paladin needed long ranged weapons. Paladin was one of the most powerful ships every fielded by the Alliance yet she was made for close range combat. Her lack of long range weaponry would be something Reshmar would take up with his engineering team once they had made it back to a yard. Until then she would have to close in and engage when she could.

"Set a course Captain, full speed."

His attention shifted from Jasp to Forti.

"Commander have your wing take up escort positions until we close to weapons range. I can not make upt who is fighting who out there but If they are our people we will help them."

General Forlon had already began his preparation for the assault. He and his men were in the Hangers boarding the assault transports now. A motley collections of shuttles, assault transports, and blastboats took on troops and prepared to take the fight to who ever was out there. Forlon had joined Colonel Connors onboard the Farragut before the jump. HE stood looking at at space through the hanger bay. A thud thud noise broke him from his gaze as Connors walked up beside him. Forlon turned and smiled at the Connors clad in his combat armor now close to two and a half meter tall.

"I will never get used to this stuff,"

Forlon walked away towards the front row of Bantha transports siting on the hanger. Connors men had already begun boarding and hooking onto the drop lines. Forlon looked around him at the massive forms as they tested their armor and prepared for the fight to come. He was truly jealous if he could have had something like this when he was imp bashing he could have won the war single handily. Connors walked beside him with his helm under one arm and what Forlon thought was a E-web in his other.

"These suits are double edged swords General. We found that out the hard way on Randon. But for any weakness they have the advantages trump them and in spades."

Forlon stopped and took in the sight one last time. Nearly six hundred men filled the hanger. All clad in some sort of combat armor. The smaller scout armor reminded him of stormtrooper armor in many ways. Not as bulky but around the same look. The other two though were something from a nightmare. The battle armor was massive and from the trials he had watched when they obtained the armor seemed unstoppable in a fight. Then out of the corner of his eye he spotted what he was looking for. The massive AV-1a assault suit. This thing was a work of art. He had seen tanks with less armor and weapons than what the heavy weapons version of this suit brought to bear. Nearly 3 meters tall and covered in weapons, these things caused a shiver to run the generals back.

"Colonel, Once we wrap this up remind me to put in for an assault suit. Not to fight in mind you I just want to try it out on a duracrete wall I need take down at the villa.."

Connors laughed and put his helm on. His muffled electrical modified voice responded

"Would be cheeper to get a T4b General."

Forlon laughed as the ramp to the Bantha closed. A second later the massive central landing leg pushed the transport up and ready for take off. Forlon made sure his forces were ready. No one knew for sure what they were facing. At best Imperials, at worse. Well he did not want to think about it.
The fifteen minutes passed slowly. Reshmar had taken the advantage to refresh himself and get a drink before he was unable to. Many of the crew took a short break to prepare for what was to come. Captain Jasp turned and nodded to Reshmar then awaited his order. Reshmar looked at the images coming in from the drones now less than a 10 kilometers from Duro. It was becoming plain that whoever was on the stations were trying to prevent the ships from making planet fall. Many had landed on the surface of duro. Other on cities and stations. The larger ships stood guard slowly moving close to the world. This was madness he thought to himself. Why the surface, nothing down there was of any importance. Most of the ships seemed to be bypassing the orbital stations and moving for the world below.

"Captain, Slow our approach, something is not right here. Order Gryphon and Farragut to concentrate their fire on tango one. Commander Hold all fighters back until we get a clearer picture of what the situation is."

Reshmar sat quietly as he watched the scene play out before him. A small ship which looked like a corvette slammed into one of the stations. The explosion flashed the view port momentarily darkening it. Then as the port reverted back the station was venting fire from many of her upper decks. Then another smaller ship slammed into the station. The chaos before him was like nothing he had ever seen. It was evident that something was not right. Something was playing out here that had nothing to do with taking and holding the planet.

Luxum could feel the tension and fear welling up beneath his feet, the collective social pulse of the world below, the Force itself awash with the troubles and doubts of its beleaguered people. Over a trillion souls down there, a trillion little fires burning in the dark, struggling desperately for the air to breathe, for the hope to burn on one more day.

“Are you okay?” Luxum asked of the woman sitting next to him. Leaning forward, her head resting in her hands, arms propped on her knees, her dark eyes were hidden from view by the curtain of her long, dark hair that had slid from her shoulder to hang at the side of her face.

“I'll be fine,” she reassured, sitting up and sweeping her hair back behind her shoulder. After a moment of suffering under Luxum's intense stare, she finally turned to meet his artificial eyes. “Really, I've got this.”

He read everything he needed to know in the features of her face. The slight, downward turn at the edges of her mouth, the way she struggled to keep her nose from scrunching up, the slight creases at the edges of her eyes, the slight wavering of her eyebrows as she fought to keep them from curving down into a scowl. She was barely holding on.

“Sound off!” the commander shouted from the far end of the shuttle's small passenger area.

“We're good,” Luxum answered immediately, sticking his arm out into the center isle and giving a thumbs up. He gave his companion the slightest nod, signaling his solidarity, then broke eye contact and took a last look at the rest of the team.

In every way that mattered, Bria was like the daughter he could never have had . . . and he could never, ever admit that to her. She reminded him so much of his dearest friend from a lifetime ago, the young Atelia Reth, the vibrant, passionate, wise-beyond-her-years young woman who had been Luxum's first and dearest friend, and with an unmatched capacity for empathy.

But the young woman at his side was not Atelia Reth; Bria Strax was a veteran member of the Jedi Corps. Not a diplomat. Not a pacifist. Bria had chosen the path of a warrior, a law-bringer, a protector. Luxum could only imagine what this world's pain was doing to her right now.

Whatever it was, he was going to make sure they both survived it.

The shuttle touched down and Commander Esseles popped the hatch without a moment's hesitation. “Alright squad, let's move out.”

The team of five filed down the ramp and into the Xenvaer Central Starport, the hundred story complex built atop the city-world below. “Welcome to Alsakan, boys and girls,” Commander Esseles remarked, turning around to regard his team.

Luxum took the opportunity to inspect his companions under the bright lights of the starport as well. They'd spent a lot of time together of the past few months, receiving special training for their new role in the Empire, but this would be the first time they saw action together, and Luxum was eager to see how they'd fare.

The rest of them, the Jedi Corps team to which he'd been attached, were all dressed in dark, light combat armor, somewhat reminiscent of the variant Clone Trooper armor that many Jedi Generals wore throughout the Clone Wars. This armor, however, showed notable design inspiration from the group's patron: the Imperial SS. Luxum, for his part, had ditched his Jedi robes and concealed his lightsaber behind a torso panel. It was the best a four thousand year old war droid model could do to “blend in”.

Esseles waived at an approaching open-air transport, and it banked into the cavernous docking bay, settling down next to the group. It bore the Imperial seal on its bow, and was piloted by an Imperial Navy trooper.

As the team piled on, Commander Esseles leaned forward and patted the trooper on his shoulder. “Take us to the prison.”

“Commander, don't you think it would be best to go through channels?” Luxum asked, raising his voice as the shuttle's repulsors powered up and their whine threatened to drown out his question.

Esseles shook his head, sitting back in his seat. “All we've got going for us right now, is surprise. Governor Kail doesn't know we're here yet, so we rush in, pluck our contact out, and go to ground before he can guess at what we're here for.”

Luxum stood to his feet, keeping his body bent low as he crept forward into the center of the passenger area. “The Governor is still playing at loyalty.”

“If he's a traitor,” Bria chime in.

Luxum turned his impassive stare on her.

“I'm just saying,” she added, but seemed to shrink into her seat.

“He won't be willing to give that up, not yet,” Luxum continued.

“That's why we're moving fast,” Esseles said. “We're pulling our . . . man . . . out before Kail can decide if he's worth abandoning the pretense.”

The shuttle banked to the right and Luxum steadied himself against the space between two seats, the Corpsmen pulling slightly away as he did so. “You're forgetting something, Commander.”

Esseles feigned a look of attentive curiosity.

“Henchmen. The guards are going to see us coming, they're going to decide the jig is up, and they're going to start shooting. It's going to get bloody, fast. If we go through channels, if we play this -”

“Sit down,” Commander Esseles ordered, pointing to the back of the shuttle. “I've made my decision.”

Luxum complied, his frustration and fury radiating out in waves. After a moment, Bria wrapped one hand around his metallic arm, then took his hand in her other. “I've got a plan.”

Luxum knew immediately what she meant. “You can find him?”

She smiled up at him. “With help.”

Luxum's metallic head nodded. “Get me to him, help me read him, and I can do it.”

Bria's eyes closed, her shoulders relaxed, but her grips on Luxum's arm and hand tightened. The world fell away from Luxum, the riotous fear of Alsakan's people, the tense determination of the Corps team. His vision went dark, the sounds of the air speeder and other traffic vanished.

Ahead, in his mind, stretched a long, dark corridor. The faint outlines of doors appeared on either side, then the doors came to life with color, pulsing with reds, greens, purples, and yellows. Some of them flickered and faded between colors. Some appeared as streaks of one running over a background of others, or as expanding and contracting circles set against a dark background. One of them was not any of that.

One of them burned with rage.

Luxum's mind passed through that door, imagining the creature who lay beyond. The Noghri Jedi who stared back at him certainly knew of his intrusion, but that was of no concern. Luxum imagined himself passing into that creature, felt his raw emotion burning through himself, stared out through the other creatures eyes.

He raised his own, gray-skinned arm, one clawed finger tracing out the message to himself in the air, where the words glowed an ethereal orange:

Ain, Jedi are coming to free you. You have seven minutes to prepare.

The vision-bond broke and Luxum returned to the present, Bria's hands sliding away from him as she, too, withdrew from her guiding role.

“It worked, right?” she asked, but didn't look to Luxum again.

He understood why. Ain had been so angry. She could have handled it, he knew, but there was more; for the briefest moment, watching through the Force as Luxum cast his mind into that room and joined with Ain's fury and despondence, his own armor had slipped, just a little, and she had seen something of Luxum's true self, too.

Knowing there was no way to have her unsee his pain, he did the worst thing he could. He ignored it. “It worked. Let's just hope there's something he can do from inside that cell.”

UWO Providence, Combat Bridge
United Worlds of Ossus Green Zone


It had taken the better part of a day for the remaining crew of the Providence to get the Star Defender’s hyperdrive operational, and another day and night assisting the Compact Fleet in salvage operations on the UWO Axiom.

Anton had insisted on leading one of the first rescue teams, and though the Captain had faced the very maw of hell itself during what the men were beginning to call Yemin’s Stand, those frantic moments in command of a seemingly dying capital ship with Reavers literally at the hatch could not hold a candle to the surreal terror the officer felt in those moments on board the Axiom.

Just a day ago, the super star destroyer had been teeming with life, hundreds of thousands of eager and nervous souls, double timing it to the Green Zone to reinforce his task force, nevermind the position had been attained in the line of duty as Yemin was the highest ranking Navy officer left from the fiasco.

Now the halls were empty, small fires burned and all around Anton teams rushed to put them out and begin what would be an extensive repair job just to get her shipshape enough to limp back home, where the real work would begin in stardock.

Anton remembered, reaching the bridge, and expecting the worst. The override sequence was initiated, and the Captain confirmed the command with his voice imprint, and then the bulkhead doors slid open…

To reveal Admiral Chang Wu, surrounded by a terrified and devastated bridge crew, over the body of his executive officer. The XO, an Alderaanian, had apparently attempted to relieve Chang of command after he announced his intention to use the failsafe.

The Admiral, however, was not a man to be stopped when he set his mind to a task. He had drawn his sidearm and stunned the human before casually holstering the blaster and activating the Imperial-engineered failsafe protocol.

And then, in an instant, all those navysouls, the hundreds and thousands of Ossan soldiers, writhing in agony as the Reaver virus took hold of them one by one, were ejected from the super star destroyer and vented into space. The Axiom was saved, barely, but her crew was lost. Everyone except the bridge officers.

“Admiral,” Anton had said. He didn’t know what to say, what to feel. Should he be saluting, shaking the Sinsangese man’s hand, or should he punch him in the face? What kind of a man could carry out that order, unflinching, without pause?

“Captain Yemin, good to see the Providence was spared, at least,” the Admiral stood at the duraglass viewport of the supercapital, staring out at the stars, his expression a complete mystery to the Ossan Captain. For a long while, neither of them said a word, until at last, Wu said, “I suppose you must think me something of a monster.”

“Sir?” Anton blurted, startled at the man’s bluntness and how close to home the implications of his statement hit.

“Because of what I did. What I had to do,” still the Admiral stared out at the stars, still he gave no physical reaction to Yemin’s presence at all, “It is a terrible burden, Captain Yemin, the duty of command. Sometimes it requires of us...unsentient choices...unsentient sacrifices.”

“I suppose so, Admiral,” Anton replied, struggling to find some words that might compare to what the Admiral was going through, “I don’t know if I could have made the choice you made.”

“Neither did I, until I made it,” at last, a chuckle and a small smile, but there was something sad in it. There was no mirth, “Duty is life, Captain Yemin. All the peoples of Sinsang know this. To serve is to make the choice, and to live with it. That is the sacrifice. Not pushing a button. Remember, Captain.”

“I...I will, sir.”


UWO Providence, Combat Bridge
Columex Orbit, Ossus Safe Zone


“What the hell is going on planetside?” Yemin barked, relieved to be back behind friendly lines and glad to see the star defender’s bridge bustling with activity once more, but at the same time acutely anxious to get home, “Why haven’t been given clearance to proceed to Ossus?”

“It’s chaos down there, sir,” Ptolyevich called out, pacing back and forth behind the comm officer’s station in frustration, “We’ve been getting scattered communiques from our consulate in Columex City, but the entire planet has been unstable since the Vorzyd system was overtaken, and there’s a new government in charge, the Commonality.”

“I’ve heard of it,” Anton mused, recalling what he could of ancient history, “They were a driving force in this sector politically during the New Republic days. When Vorzyd went Imperial, Columex cooperated, but they’ve always been pseudo-independent and the consulate is left over from the Republic bureaucracy.”

“Admiral Chang is on the horn, sir,” Ptolyevich called out, breaking the Captain’s train of thought.

“Thank the Force,” the Captain sighed, “Wu took a shuttle from the Axiom down to the consulate an hour ago to see what was wrong.”

The comm officer complied, and as Anton walked over to the station a miniature holographic representation of the Admiral appeared before them.

“Admiral Chang, what’s the situation down there?” Anton asked.

“Captain Yemin. Well, it is somewhat organized anarchy down here. Very unprofessional,” the man shook his head, obviously attempting to overcome his Sinsang sensibilities, “The Compact Fleet heard rumors before we were sent to rendezvous with you, Captain Yemin, but now that we’re finally back in Ossan space its confirmed.

The Reavers hit Ossus.”

There was a sudden quiet on the bridge as those close enough to the transmission began whispering frantically to their crewmates.

“Sithspit,” Ptolyevich would have spat if she wasn’t ever the professional, “How bad was it, sir?”

“Reports suggest it was bad, but both Orilcia and Knossa are still there,” Wu reported, “It seems the Jedi and Ysanna were somewhat instrumental in organizing a guerrilla resistance before New Alderaanian reinforcements could arrive. Rumor is Master Leia herself led the task force.”

“Republic intervention, who would have guessed they had it in them?” Ptolyevich grumbled quietly to herself.

“So what’s the problem, Admiral?” Anton asked, still perturbed at the delay, “Why can’t we get clearance to proceed to the capital?”

“Because apparently, Ossus no longer is the capital,” the Admiral said, and that stunned everyone within earshot, “The Enclave is still there, and Orilcia is still standing, but the parliament sector got hit hard, and while its still serving as an auxiliary center of government to keep the cogs in motion, it looks like UWO ambassadors have been locked in rooms with Commonality politicians for weeks, hammering out the details.”

“The details of what?” Yemin asked, confused.

“Of a new Constitution of Laws, Captain Yemin,” the Admiral responded, for the first time smiling softly as he no doubt revelled in the continued looks of shock on the bridge officers’ faces, “The UWO was always a transitionary government, and there are whispers. Ossus is technically outside Reaver space, and yet they hit the world hard, and in force? The New Alderaanians are getting skittish, and they have more faith in being in on the ground floor of this new Commonality than at the beck and call of Ossus and Obroa-skai.”

“Obroa-skai? You mean they’re not joining the League?” Ptolyevich put in.

“Honestly, the way these ambassadors talk, the League might end up joining us,” the Admiral replied, “You would not believe how paranoid the Commonality representatives are about Imperial influences. They think the League is just another one of Simon Kaine’s plots. In fact, one of the final issues they’re discussing right now is what to do about our status with Obroa-skai.”

“Severing ties with the League capital? It would be suicide!” Anton gasped, unable to believe how so much could happen in so short a time. He had heard of home being a different place after returning from a theater of water, but this was unbelievable.

“Nothing so dramatic. More a...political restructuring,” the Admiral said, backpedaling to get the proper meaning across, “If the Columex people are interested in anything, its opportunity for expansion. The majority of their trade partners are...well, they had a lot of agreements with worlds in Reaver space.”

“So Ossus is joining this Commonality? In less than a month?” Yemin repeated, unable to believe it. What was parliament thinking?

“Not just joining, but refounding the Commonality, yes,” the Admiral nodded, “In just a month? Now that, I am not so sure. Besides, Ossan ambassadors are not the only ones scurrying up and down Columex City.”

“Who else is there? The Republic? The Empire?”

“The Coalition,” Admiral Chang replied, “It was their idea to rendezvous at Columex, if you recall?”

“Ossus, a Coalition world?” Ptolyevich said aloud, as if testing it to see how it would sound.

“Not just Ossus, Commander, and not just the Coalition,” responded the Admiral, “Think bigger.”

"You don't mean...”

“Nothing is decided yet,” the Admiral's visage held up his hands in mock surrender, “but a lot of ideas are being thrown around down here. Big ones.”

“Stranger things have happened,” Anton grinned, “Very well, Admiral. Thank you for getting us in the loop, we await further orders from…Commonality High Command, I suppose, as soon as it technically exists.”

“There is one more thing, Captain Yemin,” the Admiral said, and his expression grew quite serious, “It is, in actuality, the real reason I commed you. Please move somewhere more secure.”

“Ptolyevich, you have the con,” Anton nodded to his executive officer and proceeded off the bridge and into his ready room, activating the comm unit on his desk and standing at attention the moment the image of Chang Wu rematerialized.

“What is it, Admiral?”

“Columex’s shipyards don’t have the resources to handle repairs of the Axiom,” Wu began, “But they have been sending repair crews over to get her in the best shape possible for the return trip to Sluis Van, and while they were taking a look at the sensor logs from this…Gestalt attack, they noticed something...peculiar.”

“Something during the attack? Something the Reaver supercapital did?” Anton asked.

“No, something that happened immediately after the attack,” the Admiral said, “Something that happened, Captain Yemin, aboard the Providence.”

“Aboard my ship, sir?”

“A transmission was sent, short burst,” the Admiral reported, “Its no surprise your vessel’s own sensors didn’t pick it up, the source was trying very hard to be discreet. Axiom’s sensors are prototypes, fresh off the line. Someone was sending a message somewhere they didn’t want you to know about. Someone on your ship.”

“A traitor? But who? And why?” Anton reeled at the possibilities.

“Captain,” the Admiral stopped him, his face a grim mask, “The frequency was an Imperial code.”

“Understood, Admiral,” Yemin saluted, “Measures will be taken to contain the situation, I assure you.”

“I have absolute faith in you, Captain.”

The holographic display of Admiral Chang winked out of existence, and Anton was left alone in the dark of his ready room, the soft glow of the myriad of blinking consoles on the bridge reflecting through the duraglass bathed the room in a haunting tone. He activated his personal comm.

“Ptolyevich, my ready room. Now.”

There was a mole on his ship.


UWO Providence, Hangar Deck
Columex Orbit, Ossus Safe Zone

The last of the crewmen eligible for shore leave were preparing to disembark. Isaac would have been on one of the first shuttles out, given his medical condition, but the apparatus necessary to monitor his vitals was bulky and took time to disassemble for transport.

Tierce was with him again, of course she was. Somehow she had been roped into duty somewhere in his general vicinity ever since his time in medical bay. She had made him a “promise” that she wouldn’t leave his side until he was safely groundside in a Columex City hospital.

As if that was anywhere close where he intended to be twenty four hours from now.

Under any other circumstance, Cain would find the attention from an admittedly attractive young woman a welcome phenomenon, if a bit unexpected given the raggedy state he kept his appearance in these days. Under better circumstances, he would likely begin to flirt himself, see just how far he could get without getting a Corellian ale thrown in his face.

But the conversation with Cipher had spooked him. He was alone out here, on the edge of Reaver space, with a cover identity that no longer had the full backing of Imperial Intelligence. He needed to get away from the ODF, away from the Reavers, away from whatever this Gestalt was, and most importantly, away from Ensign Tierce.

“Now boarding, medical personnel and WIAs to Columex City!”

That was his shuttle. He began to say his goodbyes to Tierce, before he remembered that the insufferable woman had somehow managed to trade seats with someone on his shuttle for her earlier flight down. Sighing softly to himself, he hoisted himself onto the entirely unnecessary crutches (Fleet mandate), and began to walk.

That was when the klaxons started blaring.

“Don’t move!”

He turned around. It was Tierce.

And she was pointing a holdout blaster to his face.

“Tierce?” he backed away, instinctively.

“I said don’t move, scumbag!” the once bubbly young ODF Navywomen now wore an expression that chilled Isaac to the core. He had seen it before. She was ready to pull that trigger, “Ensign Isaac Cain, aka The Rat, you are hereby under arrest for collaboration with the Empire and high treason.”

Fuck, she’s states.

“Ensign…” he began, searching for one last gambit, “Tierce. Listen, I know you’ve probably got a dossier somewhere with my name on it that says all kinds of things, things that might, in a certain context, make it seem as if I deserve-”

“Can it, Cain,” Tierce grunted, “Turn around, hands on your head. I’m taking you in.”

“On whose authority?!” he yelled, if only just to yell something.

“Coalition Intelligence, Ensign fucking Reaver.”

“Coalition Intelligence?” he laughed, “Softies, the lot of you. You’re not gonna shoot-”

It was an odd sensation, to see a blue pulse eject from a holdout aimed directly at your face. As the wave hit and he flew backwards, unconsciousness quickly approaching, he giggled softly to himself.

Oh yeah, those things have stun settings.

And then all went black.

Prison.

It was something that, by now, Ain was used to. Most worlds did not appreciate his methods, even if, in the end, they valued his results. And yet, every time the Noghri had managed to engineer some manner of escape. After all, it was hard to keep a Force sensitive contained, particularly one with was much training as Ain had received.

Jedi.

It was a term that had, at one time in his life, meant everything to the prisoner. Now, he didn’t know what it meant to him, if anything at all. His master, Arix Askrima, had died right in front of him, and since that day the Noghri had felt lost, without any sense of direction, moral or otherwise.

The Jedi Order had failed this galaxy, and the more Ain had travelled, the more he had become disillusioned with the alleged purity of the Lightside. He had found himself drawing more and more every day on the Darkness within him.

Still, he remembered Zark’s teachings, and as much as he could in his broken state, Ain had strived to follow them as best he could. It was what had brought him to Alsakan in the first place. Emperor Kraken had promised amnesty to all Force sensitives; safe harbor, if nothing else. Ain had taken the offer seriously.

What a fool he had been.

It had not taken him long to realize that something was very wrong on Alsakan. He had, through a mixture of restrained violence and Force persuasion, made his way into the bowels of the Imperial provincial government, only to find too late the terrible truth. Park Kraken’s promise of amnesty held no weight here.

How many Imperial stormtroopers had he taken with him? The Imperial palace had run red with the blood of Alsakan troopers, but in the end they had finally broken through the defenses of his double-edged lightsaber, and where he may have greeted death as something of a blessing, the barrage of stun blasts filled him with a rage so potent he had remained on his feet and fighting longer than anyone could believe possible.

Anyone who remained ignorant of the power of the Force, that is.

Finally, Ain had gone down, riddled with blue pulses to the point where, when he woke again, he found himself in a bacta tank, recovering from severe nerve damage. He had instinctively reached out with the Force, attempting to shatter the duraglass of the tank and make his escape, but where the Force had been a reliable companion throughout his years as a sensitive, for the first time in his life the Noghri found that the Force failed him.

Instead, waves of nausea and agony rippled through his body. His hands were cuffed behind him, yet he could not summon the supernatural strength necessary to shatter his bonds. Instead, he felt only more pain. It was only then he had recognized that the Alsakan Imperials had either discovered or been granted technology that could block his connection to the Force, or to be more accurate, to redirect that power directly into the pain centers of his brain.

How long had they held him in confinement? Time seemed to stand still in prison. The days crawled, and the Noghri, strong in both character and the Force, felt powerless to avoid the inevitability. He had overheard enough conversation fragments outside his cell to know that this was a temporary arrangement, and the day would come soon when he would find himself in a new prison.

A prison built and managed by the Dominion.

Traitors to their own Empire. Truly, these Imperials had no honor.

And yet, though the rage burned inside him at the indignity of his capture, he found he could not blame his captors, at least not completely. Their entire world had gone mad seemingly overnight, and it was more than likely that they had set up this operation to keep their world safe. Had he been in the Governor’s place, he might have made the same choice.

But that wouldn’t stop him from killing every last one of them, the moment he found an opportunity.

That opportunity, however, never came, as Ain found himself unable to overcome the mental restraints in place. He could feel the nodes on his temples, and for hours on end he had attempted to will them to pieces, but every time he tried he found himself doubled over in an agony even greater than merely attempting to make contact with the Force.

The Empire certainly knew what they were doing.

There were other prisoners in the complex he was held. He could ascertain that much, from the little he was able to reach out and sense before the pain became unbearable. If he could somehow make contact, if he could convince them that by working together they could overthrow their dark masters, if only…

And then, one day, when all seemed lost at last, a thought entered his mind, and to his surprise the Noghri found that the source was not of himself, nor anyone within the complex.

Ain, Jedi are coming to free you. You have seven minutes to prepare.

Jedi?

It must be a trick. The Jedi were defunct, the last he had known, and the idea of there being enough to storm such a heavily defended Imperial facility was laughable. And yet, as the words entered his mind, he found that he could touch the Force once more, and the pain, while stile ever present, seemed for the first time somewhat endurable.

It would not last for long. He must escape, and it must be now. Any longer and he would pass out from continued contact with the power source that made him so dangerous to those who held him captive. Digging deep within himself, he touched the electrical current inherent within his own body, and began to shape it, focalize it, and then: redirect it.

The nodes on his temples sparked, and briefly he felt a searing hot pain throughout his skull. Then the pain was gone, and so were the restraints, at least the mental ones. The cuffs also seemed resistant to his enhanced Force strength, but as he grinned slyly to himself, he knew that he would not need his hands to prepare.

Gathering up the Force inside himself, he reached out and touched the minds of those around them. Some were in constant pain, unable to control their connection to the Force with enough discipline to shut it out so as to avoid the torment. Others he could barely sense at all, either they were near death or they possessed enough training to acquiesce to their circumstances.

Drawing upon that same electric current, he reached out and, at once, shattered the neural nodes on every Force sensitive he could reach. The effort exhausted him, but he knew he could not quit. His hands still cuffed behind him, he turned toward his cell door, and with the last of his spiritual strength, found its shatterpoint and heaved.

The massive durasteel slab groaned, buckled, and then crumpled as it was forcibly torn off its support hinges and shot out into the hallway. The two stormtroopers stationed outside his cell had been in the middle of a vehement argument regarding some HoloNews nonsense, the word Gallinore a common thread.

As Ain stepped out of the cell and onto the fallen cell hatch, he could feel the weight of their crumpled corpses underneath the door frame. It had struck them both squarely, just as he had intended, and smashed them against the wall with such force that it likely killed them instantly, though a part of the Noghri hoped they had survived long enough to feel some agony at the jarring blow.

Heaving the prison door off their bodies, Ain turned away from the two stormtroopers and arched his back until it was perpendicular to the floor, his deft hands rifling through their belts until he found what he was looking for: a vibroknife.

In one deft move, he sliced the cuffs in twain, and as he lifted himself back into a standing position, he found he could use the Force at last to shatter them completely. Rubbing his raw wrists, he reached out to sense those around him. The prisoners were beginning to stir, those without control obviously aware immediately of the sudden change in circumstances. Many of the dim auras slowly grew as well, and as Ain reached out beyond them he touched the minds of the Imperials in the complex.

Alarms went off, klaxons haunting the hallways with their devastating crescendos, and the Noghri knew he was quickly running out of time. He touched mind after mind, searching for the right one, until finally; there it was.

The officer in question, though he could not imagine what had possessed him to do so, suddenly jammed his hand down on the console he sat at, and one by one each hatch on Ain’s level swung open. Groggily, prisoners stepped out into the dimly lit hall. Some noticed Ain, and the bodies he stood over, their eyes filling with wonder. No doubt they questioned how he had been able to do it.

That was when the squad of stormtrooper reinforcements rounded the bend of the hallway. Softly, Ain grinned. Today, he would draw the blood from his enemies. Today, he would make every last corrupt Alsakan pay for the torment they had made him endure.

Today, Ain would be free. Snarling only as a Noghri could, he charged.

His entire life, Isaac had told others that he had been born on the Wheel.

That was a lie.

Truthfully, he had spent the first fifteen years of his near-constantly miserable existence on Haruun Kal. He had lived amongst the Korunnai people, grown up in the community, lived off the jungle as any Uplander would be expected to.

The first time he had seen a starship, however, he had fallen in love. Isaac had felt, nearly his entire adolescent life, as if he did not belong in the Jungle. The Jungle was deadly. The Jungle was cruel. And in all the ways that mattered, the Jungle hated Isaac’s people as much as he hated growing up within its bowels.

Starships, on the other hand, were safe, pristine, and spartan. A considerable trade up for a Korunnai. And yet, it was the irony of his life that, since Isaac Cain had left his home and planted roots on the Wheel, everything he touched seemed to fall apart, as if his hands were imbued with the very fungi that corroded nearly everything on Haruun Kal so quickly.

Out in space, Isaac felt like the same Jungle he had spent his entire childhood escaping.

In the throes of the sort of unconsciousness acutely particular to stun blasts, he found himself reliving those younger days on Haruun Kal. He had not reminisced on his time as an Uplander for many years. In fact, he had actively avoided thoughts on the horrid world. Funny how the unconscious worked…

And then he was there again. Haruun Kal.

He remembered this moment. It was the first time his father had let him accompany the old man away from the convoy. In the Uplands, the Jungle devoured everything that was not strong enough to survive. Many who came to the world marvelled at the Korunnai’s ability to survive at all.

And yet his people thrived.

But Isaac had never truly felt one with the Jungle. He had been an average Korunnai, and on a planet like Haruun Kal, to be average was to die, just as he had almost died that day. He had not seen the wild akk dog coming until it was almost too late.

Only serendipity had saved him. At the last possible second, before young Isaac could even react enough to dive to the side, the akk dog howled in agony as the tail mace of a massive ankkox had halted the akk dog’s advance rather suddenly, not to mention its life.

His father had taken him straight back to the convoy, and the grassers that allowed a temporary respite. It had been several months before the old man had trusted him enough to take him out again, and Isaac had never forgotten that first failure. He had been determined to do better his second time, and had trained hard every day. He knew that, should he be slow, he would not make it back this time.

The second time they left together, Isaac did make it back. Two days later. His father, on the other hand, had not. The Korunnai mourned the passing of so able a warrior, and championed young Isaac for surviving alone in the wild, a feat which could have easily killed men twice his age.

The next day, Isaac had hitched a ride to Pelek Baw, and from there stowed away on a transport headed anywhere else. It just so happened, that anywhere had been the Wheel. This time, however, Isaac stood before the freighter hatch, and found that he could not move. He was frozen.

Fear welled up inside him. He would be caught, he would be thrown back out into the Jungle, he would never see the stars as he always dreamed. And then, sudddenly-

Splash!

As Isaac groggily came to, he realized for the first time that if he were to live, even for just the short term, he would have to become the Hunter, not the Jungle, as he had always meant to. More ice cold water shook him fully awake, and he gasped at the temperature.

“Imperial piece of shit.”

He recognized the voice, even though he could not see. They had blindfolded him, tied him to something. A chair? A stool? He could not quite tell, and held no desire to lean back and find out. Still, his mind reeled at the implications of those four little words. Words he himself had likely muttered a thousand times before.

It was Ensign Tierce.

“Quite the mouth on you,” he managed at last, hoping it sounded as brave as he meant it to be, “IF somewhat misinformed. Still, I thought we had something back there. I really did.”

Another freezing blast of water. The worst part was not knowing when it was going to come. His muscles screamed in agony, and he began to shiver uncontrollably. Yet he could not show weakness, nor fear, nor the least lack of resolve.

“Misinformed, huh?” Tierce snarled, “I had you pegged as an II man the moment you boarded the Providence.”

“If that’s the case, you are a very slow worker.”

It was all he needed to say. Another splash of water hit, but this time he was ready. Bracing for the cold, he laughed at her. Not a quiet chuckle, but the deep sort of laughter that only comes from hearing a really good joke.

“Buckets of water? Is that really the best you could come up with? I mean, I get having someone like me under your nose all this time doesn’t leave a lot of room for sudden improvisation, but you didn’t have anything else prepared?”

The punch came, and it came hard. Wow, she’s done that before.

“Tierce!”

The bark was sudden, and it felt like a command in everything but certainty. It came from behind her, but it was audible enough to not be directly between the two. There was at least one other person in the same room, he surmised, for he detected no crackle of a comm unit.

“Ah, the man behind the curtain is revealed at last,” if his jaw would only stop throbbing, Isaac would have felt genuine satisfaction in the way he had, albeit somewhat errantly, manipulated the situation.

For a short time there was silence, then suddenly harsh whispering.

“You told...handle my own….I’m the one that brought…loop eventually.”

“Trouble in paradise, eh?” Isaac called out in the general direction of the voices, “I know the feeling. Here I was, thinking I was getting somewhere with a pretty girl. You can imagine how I feel. Say, how about I talk to the one that’s actually in charge here, instead of the hired muscle.”

Another backhand, and as Isaac reeled from the latest blow, a man’s voice spoke, this one different from the first. He was older, and there was a slight accent in his tone, though Cain could not place the planet of origin.

“I am Admiral Chang Wu of the Ossan Defense Force, and you are an Imperial spy and collaborator.”

Isaac laughed again.

“Misinformed, huh. Spy? Maybe. Collaborator? Fuck no, Mr. Wu.”

“Oh let me guess,” it was Tierce, “They’re holding your family hostage. No! Your starship, even worse. Freelancers.” And then what sounded like spit.

“Close,” Isaac laughed, “Truth, sister, is I’m too smart for those kind of attachments. Nah, my Ossan friends...and mean Coalition lady, to procure my services Imperial Intelligence took for ransom the only thing in the verse I value.”

“Oh yeah,” Tierce continued, “Like there’s anything an Imperial collaborator values save their own skin.”

“Bingo, Ensign Agent Tierce lady.”

This time, the punch hit him in the gut. He coughed up blood.

“Bullshit aside, here’s what’s gonna happen, Cain. You’re going to tell us everything you did on board the Providence, and then you’re going to prison for a very long time.”

Once more, Isaac laughed, once more the freezing water came, but he didn’t care. He was past pain, beyond fear. He was the Hunter again. And though they didn’t know it, the three souls in the room with him were strangers in his Jungle.

“Counter-offer. I tell you everything I did, you let me go, and none of us have to die.”

It was Tierce’s turn to laugh, “We’re not Imperials, we don’t execute enemy combatants.”

“First of all, I really dig the terminology. Enemy combatant, freeow. That’s a strong statement, coming from a Coalition spook. Wish Regrad has your kinda spunk. Second, I wasn’t talking about me. I was talking about all of you.”

“Really, Isaac?” Tierce growled, her patience obviously wearing quite thin with his little games, “We don’t have time for this shi-”

“Not to mention this entire deck. Ma’am.”

“What has he done to my ship?!” the third voice again, male, and now Isaac had a name.

“Relax, Captain Yemin, your precious Providence remains un-booby trapped. No, gentlemen and bitch, the bomb is in my head, not the ship.”

Silence.

“You honestly expect us to believe you have an explosive implant?” Tierce asked, “Our sensors would have detected it the moment you stepped aboard.”

“Care to bet your life on it?” Isaac asked, already knowing the answer, “I sure as shit didn’t. After all, you said it, Tierce. The only thing we Imperial collaborators value is our own skin. So that’s what they took from me.”

More whispers amidst the deafening silence.

“But sir!...absolutely not...against everything...hearing from my...of course not...very well...understand...yes sir.”

Faintly, he heard a hatch open, and then slam shut again. Almost immediately after, the blindfold came off and Isaac found himself blinded by a too-bright light. Behind it, stood the outlines of two men in ODF Navy uniforms.

“Very well, Cain,” the voice belonging to Captain Anton Yemin spoke once more, “Tell us what we want to know, and we’ll let you go.”

“Think I’m an idiot?” Isaac bit back, frustrated that the Captain underestimated his level of intelligence, “I’ll tell you what you need to know alright, but not until I’m very far away from Ossan space. Let’s say...the Wheel.”

The two men turned to regard each other, whispered indecipherably, and then turned back toward him.

“And what’s to stop you from doing what you do, Cain?”

“And what,” Isaac asked, “exactly, do I do?”

“Betray people.”

It almost hurt. Almost.

“I won’t be going alone, of course,” he grinned, “Let me bring Tierce along. If I reneg, she can drag me back here by force if she has to. And I tell you both, I honestly think she could. Woman’s got a hell of a right cross.”

More whispers, and then suddenly, the light turned off, and the hatchway opened briefly, letting a dim light bathe the two men as they passed through the threshold and out of the room. Once he was alone, Isaac grinned softly to himself.

Two hours later, he and Tierce were on a shuttle bound for the Wheel.

“You gonna point that thing at me the whole trip?” he asked, referring to the blaster pistol she held continuously drawn on him.

“Only until I have to use it.”

“You mean if you have to use it,” he corrected.

“No, I’m pretty sure I mean until.”

This is going to be one hell of a ride.