If life on the surface was hell, and life underground was all you had, then life was not life. If you were a man, without a woman or anything to love, then you are not whole. If you possess strength, but lack the gumption to use it, then you are not strong. If you possess knowledge, but lead a foolish life, then you are not smart. If you possess the Force, but lack the ability to use it, then you are nothing.

Such simple little ideas and yet Kamon almost felt every single one of them all the way down to his core. Eyes closed, breathing shallow and silent, no sound echoed across the surface of the void in his mind. No movement crossed his body except the constant suspension from the Force binders. Bluish glows surrounded his wrists and ankles, holding him in place as if he had the will to escape. As if he had the physical ability to make a way out.

They had broken him. Nothing left but a broken and battered corpse inhabited by a downed spirit with no will to survive. He had nothing. Was nothing. Never would be again. His daughter was gone, Kate was gone, Kenshin and Cole were gone. Nothing was left. Not even his lightsabers. For all he knew, they had been destroyed. Those sabers that were so sacred to him. The one a gift from his Master tying him to his ex-wife. The other a gift from his first master on his birthday. So simple, and yet so sacred.

Every day it was the same routine. Wake in the morning, be placed in a neck chain and surrounded by soldiers bearing ysalamiri, go eat, go mine. And the cold. So cold. They didn't give him anything to keep the chill from digging at his bones. Freezing the marrow inside of him until finally he warmed up enough to stay alive. But warmth was the least of his problems in the cold of Kessel's spice mines.

The goggles he wore, giving him the appearance of being completely blind to everything, were as black as possible, but allowed him to see in the almost endless dark of the mines. If he was to stay alive, to not be eaten by Energy Spiders, seeing a few miners eaten was bad enough, he needed to be able to see. And run. The last he could almost not do thanks to the loss in muscle mass do to the constant torture of mining. Somehow he managed to find energy when he needed it.

The breath mask, his only source of oxygen unless he wanted to wheeze to death and cough up blood, did little to stop the delirium brought on by contact with spice. His breathing was labored as it was. The stress of working the mines, of torture by relentless prisoner guards, of less than normal amounts of oxygen, was slowly killing him and wearing him thin.

His clothes, the same that had been on his back since the first day he had been there, were little but rags now. If he hadn't gotten his body used to the cold he would have been dead almost as soon as he arrived. Survival skills wouldn't allow him to die. And the delirium brought on by the spice always seemed to show him his daughter somewhere with her advisors on a GC world. The thought of her kept his mind strong while his body slowly failed.

He walked down the corridor, guards surrounding him, one leading him by a chain and collar, shivering as if it were the middle of winter back on Tholatin and he had on no clothing. To be truthful, he almost did have on no clothing. The rags he wore barely served to cover his lower and upper half. A few other miners had taken pity on him and helped him when the guards weren't looking. Which, unfortunately, wasn't very often.

His walk was almost a shuffle. Loss of muscle mass and low nutrition made his motor skills deteriorate a little bit everyday. The blank look in his eyes kept him from seeing any abuses against other prisoners. The goggles were as uncomfortable as ever and the breath mask was no better. His head swung from side to side, eyes staring forward as he shuffled along. A few prisoners tried to speak to him, but Kamon hid in the void and said nothing. They glanced away when he didn't even move to look at them.

"Alright, "prince". Today you will mine here. It seems you have grown too accustomed to those around you at the old location. When we looked away, they were helping you and you didn't stop them. We can't allow that, now can we?"

The soldier smirked, and pushed him towards the material. Cautiously, returning from the void so he could perform the task and not be whipped, he moved his pick closer to the material. He was prepared for the effects of the glitterstim, but at first it didn't come. For once he was able to be relieved. All the other times the glitterstim had affected him at the very first.

"Glit-biters getting used to it."

"I've never seen him use the drug, Johnson. Unless you care to speak intelligently I suggest shutting up and keeping your eyes on the prisoner."

"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."

Pulling some of it away to place in the cart, he noticed one of the soldiers smacking a whip into his palm. So it would be that way. No matter how well he did, no matter how much he mined, they would beat him as before. This he was tired of. Sighing, he reached back for the void and slid away from the outside world. Without a care, he moved his pick and chopped some off. When he bent to pick it up, he got it a bit to close to his face and inhaled.

As he set the substance in the cart, he wavered. Hands grasped the cart and he was barely aware of the soldiers holding back a few prisoners that moved to help him. The void collapsed around him and the delirium came on. This time, though, it wasn't like before. He saw a face he had never seen then everything went dark. It felt like he was drifting to sleep. Sliding down an endless dark to the nothingness below. His hand smacked the ground and the pick slid away.

He sat in the cockpit of his beaten up freighter, silently contemplating the choices displayed before him via an outdated, flickering holoprojecter. The flicker was giving him a headache.

"Kessel," he murmured. Kessel was top on his list of next places to go. Each seeker had been given a list of likely places to find the alm'pu'ti, some populous, and some not so glamorous, but still candidates. Kessel, was one of the not so glamorous. Listed as 'highly dangerous' by the holoprojection, it was a prison world in which people were sent to rot. The current ownership of the planet was listed as 'Unknown' by the display matrix. With all the turmoil in the galaxy it was hard enough for a government to keep track of who's who, let alone a lone man with limited resources.

Lahout leaned forward, and addressed the computer. "Plot a course for Kessel." After a few minutes the machine beeped, and replied with a tinny "Affirmative."

He had been in this ship for but a few days, yet he hated it already. Solid ground, on a sensible rock-based planet was where he preferred to be. Or better yet, underground on a rock-based planet. He had seen more of this forsaken galaxy in the last few months than he had wished. Yet, he had a mission to accomplish, a mission that he had vowed to complete, or die trying.

He was to seek for the alm'pu'ti of his people, and he would go through hell to find him.

The battered freighter, a prize he had managed to win in what was called a 'sabacc' game, a primitive game in which whoever managed to cheat the most won, launched into hyperspace. Lahout closed his eyes as the stars became lines, and turned into mottled purple. He preferred small pinpoints of light, not long lines.



"Kessel," whispered Lahout to himself, as he read. "A barren planet from which the highly prized and very illegal spice Glitterstim is mined by convict labor. The planet is cold, all life living underground or in protective cities."

He stopped, and put the datapad away. It was the same thing that he had read in the cockpit. Very little data had been available to the Mar'hute when the Seekers were sent out, and Lahout had been able to glean even less on the last planet he had stopped at. But little enough had been known about Kessel that it had made the list that the Seekers would visit.

A convict world. The alm'pu'ti, a convict laborer? Preposterous, but who knew? Marcus had told the Seekers in confidentiality that when the alm'pu'ti had left Vandenelhiem after his short appearance, he had been delusional.

Marcus had said that his memory had fragmented. What all aged Mar'hute feared the most had struck the alm'pu'ti so badly that his memory had split at least nine different ways.

With nine different lives living inside his head, the alm'pu'ti could be anywhere, could have done anything, could be doing anything.

And thus, Lahout was going to search a convict world, a world where few people left, and even fewer left calling their sanity their own. Lahout closed his eyes, and began to slip into a meditative sleeping state. As he slipped, he slowly let out a tendril of his awareness into the galaxy. The tendril wove its way through stars, space, and planets, until it found home.

Vandenelhiem. There his tendril was met with another tendril, and a short message was transmitted. No Word. Lahout sighed deeply as he slipped fully into a deep sleep, his tendril pulled back. No word yet.

<B>Kessel Sector: several days after the death of Jade Doment.</b>

The Tion DragonClaw of the Black Dragon Empire represented the epitome of Imperium science and adaptive technology. Swift, sleek, stunning in its size and overawing in its mass, it swept through deep space like a wasp searching for a world to paralyze and feed upon. Unfortunately, its duty today was to patrol the Kessel Sector which lay within Farfalen's territories.

Within its dark depths, her crew operated in shifts: some attending to sleep, others emerging from time to time to ensure all was operating optimally and that the vessel remained on course. As yet, few aboard knew that the urgency with which they had departed orbit around Tholatin was inspired by the landing of RDE's leader, Jade Doment, on Kessel and her demise by the hands of General Grevious, several days prior. They did not need to know, nor would it have affected the efficiency with which they went about their work if they had. They were simply ordered by the BDE's higher-ups to be dispatched to the Kessel Sector to double up its patrols.

At present, the command team was awake for several hours, while Captain Kuge was engaged with his navigators aboard the <I>Solice</I>, one of the newly commissioned DragonClaws dispatched from the Tion Cluster to patrol the Kessel Sector. They were in the process of trying to track any unwanted ships through deep space, which was a complicated process. Without advanced computational predictors, it would have been impossible. But with people as dedicated to their work as to the cause, the commander was confident of eventually finding anything out there that posed a threat to the security of the prison planet and its perimeters. Kuge wasn't really worried, if any ship would try to attempt any course toward Kessel, the minefield that surrounded it would stop it in its tracks.

The Dameun priest entered and stood off by himself, observing. Occasionally, his gaze would travel from the stars visible beyond the port to the bridge crew busy at their stations-- and eventually, to Kuge. It unsettled the captain more than he would have cared to admit.

A proximity signal flared upon the navigation station. An Ensign turned to the Captain. "Sir, something has just jumped out of lightspeed and has engaged to sublight."

Captain Kuge quickly walked over and stood behind the Ensign. "Triangulate its position and identify it."

"Yes, Captain," he replied. His hands danced over the keypad and the displays ignited with its readings. "Unknown class of ship, but it appears to be a freighter."

"Course?" Kuge demanded.

"Course is toward Kessel on a straight route." The Ensign looked toward his captain for orders.

"You found something?" Standing behind the Captain, the Dameun priest peered past him, his gaze focused on the display. When the Captain did not reply, the other being continued. "Seems your quiet patrol has resulted in something after all."

"Apparently," Kuge simply replied. He peered to the Ensign below. "And we'll find out why our visitor is doing out here in our space."

He turned to one of his bridge officers who approached him. "Scramble a half-squadron of our Deathgliders and intercept our target. I want the ship detained. Cripple it with ion cannons if it tries to escape, but destroy it <I>only</i> if necessary." He cocked an eyebrow. "I need to know who risked their life to cross into Kessel's space."

"Yes, Captain," the bridge officer quickly dispatched to the comm station to signal the fighter bays.

"Navigator, plot a course toward our visitor at full sublight. I don't want to lose it."

Minutes later, several Deathgliders suddenly raced from the <I>Solice</i>'s hangar bays, their wings folding out to full extent to meet with the lone ship in space...

A beep from some sort of consol awoke Lahout from his rest. Something was complaining. He looked around at the array of computers before him, slightly befuddled. The technology this Galaxy used was incredibly poorly designed, ergonomics had not been considered in any factor. He finally found what was beeping; it was the main senor unity. Apparently long-range sensors had picked someone up. Lahout suddenly realized that he was no longer in hyperspace. Cursing himself silently for sleeping too long, Lahout tapped a few buttons and told the computer to be quiet and scan the approaching targets.

Another beep, this one from the communications consol, got his attention. "Incoming message" said the computerized voice.

"Play," said Lahout.

"Unidentified freighter, you have entered Kessel space and are required to stand down and prepare to be boarded..."

Lahout punched the appropriate buttons and then left the cockpit. He had expected this; a prison world would be well guarded. In the back of the freighter he suited up, putting on a heavy-duty jumpsuit. The light clothing he had been wearing would not have done at all.

A beep again notified him that something was up. Moving forward, he was about to examine the sensor consol when a flash shot over the cockpit. Looking up he was just in time to see another craft do a flyby. They were here.

Amarie ran full bore down the street towards what had once been there home. Nothing remained but rubble. The guard towers were gone, the wall around the place was gone, the castle was smashed into a thousand ruins of hope. She knelt down in front of it and cried. Suddenly, Kamon's hand was upon her shoulder and he stood next to her, surveying what had become of Tholatin while he was in prison. Disgusted at what they had done to his beloved planet. His home. They had even gone so far as to destroy his parents resting place.

Suddenly, Kamon turned into a menacing, looming visage of the leader of those responsible for destroying the once prosperous planet. From far off, Kamon yelled as his daughter stood and ran as quickly as she could. The infamous leader of BDE pursued, but Amarie used the Force to help her. Until she ran into an ysalimiri field. She stopped, stunned. What was this? She didn't know. And suddenly he was upon her. Ripping her to shreds. Body parts flying…

Kamon woke, the bindings yet again digging into his hands. Everything was hazy, even through the goggles. Deep in his mind he knew it for the effects of the drug on his nervous system. But sometimes a necessary evil was better than a possible outcome otherwise. They hadn't beaten him yet again. Every time they threatened to beat him for information on planet locations and other things he made sure to get a good whiff of the drug. Never would he divulge information to those that had desecrated and defiled his home and his people.

Suddenly, he became aware of the biting cold that the planets atmosphere always brought on. The tatters of clothing covering his body were not enough to keep the heat inside of him instead of letting it escape. These Imperials, possibly the worst form of Imperial ever, at least comparable to the old Empire, were low. They took even less pity upon their prisoners. Especially the defeated ones. Some of the political prisoners, those that were put in for a little while because of different views, got especially better treatment. Kamon envied them. He also despised them.

The breath mask across his face, his only source of usable oxygen, was starting to chaff his neck so that it burned. Unable to reach up and move it, he tried a few old relaxing techniques to try and ignore the discomfort. It didn't work, however. He needed to be sitting down on the floor cross-legged. Or at least be able to move. He looked up at a noise from the door. When it swung open to reveal a younger Imperial officer, Kamon looked back at the ground.

"Awake finally, I see. Some of them have been placing bets as to your capability to withstand the effects of the drug. I for one was placing a bet for your withstanding it. Despite our dislike for you, I can easily see that you have what it takes to withstand a lot of things. Although I admit you don't look it."

"Shut up and feed me already."

"Well now, that's not a very nice way to speak to someone who's taking a little bit of his time to feed you. Maybe I should just take this tasty looking meal and eat it myself. If I hadn't brought it nobody would."

"Alright, alright. Can you please feed me my food. I'm starving."

"Much better. Yes. Now behave. No more incidents."

"Fine."

Kamon patiently hung there as the officer began to feed him the extremely nasty food provided by the prison colony. It was degrading to have to be spoon fed by another man, but when one was held in a bond so strong you couldn't use the Force, you didn't really have a choice in the matter. It was either be fed, or don't eat at all. And he needed his strength. So far he had lost twenty pounds and knew he would lose more. Nourishment was something he needed. That and some way to get out of here. Someway to get his revenge.

Politics. Amarie couldn't say that she liked them all that much. A person at the tender age of twelve would normally be running around with children their own age, with school, sleepovers, puberty, and the slowly emerging talk about boys.

Amarie was on the verge of becomming a teenager, the only deal was her life contrasted like a saftey flare to that what was considered the norm. Some would say that she's extremely lucky.

In one moment, she declared it a bittersweet curse. Not only was she a princess (though she never felt as though she was one), she had inherited something that made her life at the moment a bit troublesome.

Her own father had talked her into it, having her travel upon the living ship he dubbed <i> The Hope</i>, to work out shipping rights between with a represenative that resided with the Bimms.

If only they didn't wear pretty much the same thing! Yellow was nice color, as far as color went, but within a couple of weeks, Amarie was longing some variety in the sea of robes she constantly waded in to get from her transport and temporary home to where she had to go to take care of things.

For all the negotiations, and all the times she bit back her own tongue to keep from screaming in frustration...it came to be no good. By the time the news reached her, she was already reduced to tears, one of her own advisors trying to comfort her.

She had a deep connection with her father thorugh the force itself, with each knowing where the other was at any given time.

For a few mintues, she thought her father was dead, for she couldn't feel anything of his familiar presence. Though, after hearing of her home being taken, she now knew the truth: she was the only one left free.

" The force is a curse." Amarie managed to say, before being reduced to tears once more.

"Dragon Squadron has been dispatched, Captain," the Ensign called. "Dragon Leader has confirmed the freighter in the vicinity and has intercepted it."

"<I>Solice</i> is maintaining course and status," the nav officer called out after. He got confirmations, turned to Captain Kuge. "All fighters reporting no engagements, sir," he said.

But the Captain didn't seem to hear him. He just stood there at the viewport, gazing outward at the penal planet of Kessel, surrounded by its minefield as the DragonClaw continued on their intercept course toward their new visitor, his hands gripped tightly behind his back. "Captain?" the nav officer asked cautiously.

"And so it begins, Lieutanant," Kuge said, his voice unreadable. "That ship straight ahead. I'm almost certain this may possibly involve our prince on that prison planet."

The Lieutanant frowned past the other. The glow of a drive was indeed barely visible past the Deathgliders that surrounded it in the far distance... "There are many ships who come through here by accident. You cannot be certain," he said, keeping his tone nuetral. "For all we know, this could involve the former Jade Doment."

Captain Kuge took a deep breath and turned away from the viewport. "That will change," he told his officer, back in control again. "We should have executed the Tholatin prince when we had the chance, like we did Jade Doment. Tholatin is ours, we wiped out the Protectorate, burned down his palace, razed his Jedi temple. All that was left was to terminate him. But since our Taj wanted to show mercy, he let him live to serve the rest of his days on Kessel." The eyes glittered. "If I am wrong, then I am just a babbling fool."

"Yes, sir," the Lieutanant said. He glanced out the viewport again, at the distant incoming ship. "You don't think... "

Kuge's face hardened. "We'll know soon," he answered quietly. "Have our Deathgliders escort him to the hangar bays. This visitor will have a great deal to answer for. A <I>great</i> deal."

<center>***</center>

The Deathglider pilot glanced at his instruments and continued to close in on his target. Clearing his throat, he flipped on the ship's comlink and began to signal the freighter again.

The voice that barked inside the freighter via the comm was firm and direct. "Repeating... all spaceports and all landing platforms of Kessel, including those designated for emergency service, are closed to flights that have not originated from this sector. Infractors will be fired upon. These regulations are in force until officially countermanded by the government of Farfalen and the Black Dragon Empire. You are to stand down your current course and be escorted to the Tion DragonClaw <I>Solice</i>. Any deviation of your course will result in immediate termination. Repeating..."

The Deathglider materialized right alongside the freighter. The grim-faced pilot motioned to the ship's cockpit to follow him, then quickly shot ahead of the craft. The other fighters quickly took flanking positions and began to steer toward the direction of the awaiting battlecruiser.

... These regulations are in force until officially countermanded by the government of Farfalen and the Black Dragon Empire. You are to stand down your current course and be escorted to the Tion DragonClaw Solice. Any deviation of your course will result in immediate termination. Repeating ...


Lahout listened to the order once over, and then, as it began to repeat, turned it off mentally. Sitting in the pilots chair, he grasped the yolk, and disengaged the autopilot. There was a lurch as the craft reverted to his control. The ship veered slightly, and then began to settle into following the lead fighter.

A beat of sweat formed on Lahout's forehead, he hated flying spacecraft. With feet on solid ground was where he belonged, preferably with solid ground above him as well as under.



As he began to near his destination, a very large craft indeed, Lahout habitually reached out and touched the edge of the minds of the pilots of the fighters escorting him. He frowned slightly at the feelings he got off of them. There was something different about these people, he had felt it when they had first done a flyby of his freighter.

Indeed, he had seen many strange things in this galaxy, and he supposed he would never cease to see strange things.



The maw of a mouth that was a hanger gaped before him. Lahout's shuttle lurched slightly as tractor beams took a hold. A bit of rust fell off of the cockpit ceiling as the tractor beams took a hold. Lahout brushed the rust off of his shirt, and shuddered. This craft had certainly seen better days, he wouldn't be surprised if it fell apart here, with these power-beams pulling it in.

"The force may seem as though it is a bittersweet curse, your highness, but to others, the force represents hope."

Metyr Pervayan was an elderly gentleman, his appearance and warm personality lending one to believe that he could've been Amarie's own grandfather, despite facts to the contrary. He was much older than the other advisors that were selected to accompany the young princess on what was to be her first diplomatic mission, but that didn't matter to the young girl pacing the hallways outside the negotiation chamber.

The elderly advisor was like family to her, for the now gray-haired gentleman had been close to the girl for most of her life, and her own father placed so much trust upon his aging shoulders. It seemed logical that he was the head of the group, for the others seemed brash, youthful, and a tad bit too eager. Still they were loyal to her father, and sympathetic to the situation at hand, giving them some redeeming qualities.

'How can there be hope, when so much of it is lost already?" Amarie asked, turning her gaze upon the older man, whom was only a head or two taller than the still-growing young girl.

Pervayan sighed tiredly, a gentle smile creasing his face, running a hand through his nearly white hair. The princess's grey-blue eyes gazed upon him, sadness showing through them, revealing that her father's capture and current imprisonment had hit her hard...hard as a Jawa sandcrawler upon the Dune Sea. The young lady was a strong one, he had to give her that, and the beauty she inherited from her mother was just beginning to emerge.

"In the darkest hour, there is still even the tiniest twinkle of light. Yes, your father is captured and enslaved, his fate perhaps to suffer even more than that of his own people.

I"m wiling to bet that they didn't account for you in their master plan. "

"What are you suggesting, Metyr? That I am that twinkling light? I'm afraid that this light is flickering out. I am only a -"

"A child who loves her father very much, who needs him more than even the people of Tholatin. The people need the sun to feel safe, and your father is that to them, that warmth, that strength. Through you, they may be able to feel that warmth again."

Amarie wasn't sure what to think, lowering her gaze, her feet shuffling the floor in a familiar sign of uncertaintly and aprehension.

What if he was right? The young girl frowned as she thought of the reasons why that would be the case. She was not a diplomat, for her patience and understanding was yet to be developed enough to handle the twists and turns that politics represented.

Nor was she a general or an admiral either. All Amarie could possibly manage as far as strategy went was though her own training as a Jedi, and that was on a moment-to-moment basis. Besides, her own education was still fresh and new to her, with yet more promsed to be shown to her in due course.

After a few mintues of silence, Pervayan saw the princess's gaze to meet his once more, seeing a grin creasing her lips and a light of defiance lighting her eyes. She most definately had something in mind, and he wasn't sure what that was.

"Then I shall have to become the moon, don't I?" Amarie asked, a laugh escaping her lips.

They say life is hell, but one could actually live and not think it so. It could all just be a bunch of talk from some guys who spend their whole time living off the street and eating rats for dinner. As unappetizing as that sounded, Kamon would rather be living on the street and eating rats then be on Kessel. When the so-called guard wasn't beating him, ironic as that sounds, he was mining glitterstim or sleeping while floating in the middle of nowhere. And the oxygen mask and goggles definitely made it feel uncomfortable. If he could do anything, anything at all to get off this planet, he would do it. No matter what the cost was.

Today was another average day. When he woke up that morning, he was fed like usual and then herded out to the mines with the usual guards bearing ysalamiri. Following along like the obedient person he was, he let them lead him past the usual spot to another new location for mining. Somehow they had figured out that he was organizing some of the prisoners into teams for working against these imperials. Of course, this had gone on right beneath their noses for a long time and hadn't stopped until one of the commanders had finally noticed.

As payment for these goings on, he had been told that today would not be the normal day that he had become used to. And it sure hadn't been. Although the day started off normal, things changed about half way through. They gave him no lunch for the first thing. Kamon shrugged it off and decided he could survive without lunch as it was. His taters for clothing were enough reminders that he could survive on a more lenient schedule anyways. They pushed him hard that afternoon too. Being the survivalist he was, he pressed through without a noise.

That night, when usually they would be feeding him, they instead put him back in the Force bindings and brought in a man that was easily twice as large as Kamon. The muscles rippling across his body were enough to make Kamon wince at what was coming. The sound of cracking knuckles made Kamon groan. The noise itself was very annoying, but it also confirmed what was coming to him. When the first blow landed, he was cot unawares. It was a straight blow at his midsection and the air was shot out of him. These imperial guards got away with a lot here on Kessel.

When the beating was done, Kamon had collapsed in the air, the only thing holding him up was the Force bindings. The door opened and then closed again and footsteps stepped over to him from the door. Raising his head up just a bit, enough so he could see through his swollen eyes, he caught a glimpse of the imperial officer from the day before. Letting his head go slack again, he tried to get his breathing back to speed. He dimly remembered one of the blows causing him to lose all his air.

"You survived. Amazing. The guards outside were sure that when he came in and started pounding on you that you would cave. Obviously another underestimate of your stamina and mental prowess. I do hope you learned your lesson, though. Next time it will be much worse."

The footsteps moved away again and the door swung open then closed. Kamon let his eyes shut and hoped that he could fall asleep and wake up with this over with. Though he knew that wouldn't happen.