Pegasus-class Star Destroyer Audacieuse, Karkaris System


The silver wedge plowed into realspace among the Karkis system. It's bright blue sun illuminated the star-studded void with an eerie cyan light. Just after the Kashan-built star destroyer entered the system, a smattering of smaller KDI built vessels reverted into realspace. Most of them were the tried and true Seraphs, but there were a few other oddball designs which very rarely had been seen out of the Fyre Sola system. On the bridge of the Confederation's former flagship, Captain Léandre Judicaël surveyed the emerging Kashan war fleet's appearance. The Steadfast and the Queen of the Colonies both listed a bit further to the port than he would have liked at a glance, but closer inspection of the data on his command chair indicated they were in acceptable margins of error per Confederate navy regulations. The commoner rubbed his chin. We used to be so much more precise back in the day. But I suppose back then, we were more reliant on technology and precise navigation back then than we are now. Still, maybe I 'll have to see if we can come up with some micro-jump practices while we're here...


“Captain Judicaël?”


The kashan man turned around to face two humans. Unlike the rest of the room's occupants, neither was dressed in Confederate naval blacks, but instead sported upscale civilian attire. Their only indication of their association with the government were a pair of golden Unitas pinned on their torsos. The shorter one, a middle-aged female with short cut red-gold hair, stepped forward towards the captain.


“Ambassador,” noted Léandre, with a curt nod, “how may I be of service?”


“Our guards tell us we are in system now. Is everything all right so far?”


He spared a quick glance at his command console, “Sensor have picked up some older warships orbiting the world, including a few older ones of CIS make, likely relics from when Karkaris was a member of the old Confederacy. Transponders say they are part of their local defense forces, but there are about a dozen bulk cruisers here as well. Nothing we can't handle, but it suggests there are some other players here as well. Perhaps some people more of your nature, Mr. Finnbar.”


The leaner gentleman behind sighed, “I do hope we're not too late to the bidding game.”


“I hope so too, if the rumors are to be believed,” agreed Ambasador Aidan.


“You mean the intelligence,” suggested the kashan man.


“Which I think is as good as rumors.”


“I see Ambassador,” noted Judicaël, turning his head to the side to glance out of the viewport, “but evidently the Councilors do not agree with your assessment.”


“Now now,” chided Mr. Finnbar, “if you two keep at it at this rate, I won't be able to effectively conduct my business. Captain, I'd appreciate it if you would have the hangar ready my transport down to the surface.”


Léandre nodded and began scrolling through the CSIS data on his holo-screens, “Interesting. Mr. Finnbar, Ambassador, just so you both are aware, but there appears to be a Jedi on the world below. One who also has an interest in your acquisition...”
 

CG-10 Transport Enlightened Hope, Karkaris


The boxy starship dove through the skies, letting gravity pull the starship in towards the ocean world below. As the Hope neared the surface of the seas, the confederate pilot flipped a couple of switches, activating the ship's repulsorlifts; the craft slowly climbed until it was nearly a hundred meters above the rippling waves of the endless ocean. In the cabin of the craft, Ambassador Aidan popped in another anti-nausea into her mouth, letting the bitter tasting medicine slowly dissolve under her tongue. Her face briefly contorted into a scrunch until the last traces of its horrid aftertaste had faded away.


“You don't fly much, do you?” noted Mr. Finnbar, glancing up from his datapad.


The redhead shook her head and squeaked out in her nasally voice, “I really don't like to. But it's only a couple of flights right? Here and back up to the Audacieuse when it's all over and done with it. I'll be ok. What have you been able to find out so far about this jedi?”


“Your intel guys, and yes, I know, you really, really love them, don't have much to say on this Tiddar Gamrov, except that he's a male Aqualish. They can't find any records of him anywhere else either.”


Molly shrugged, “It's not as if the Jedi haven't had to hide a lot recently. I imagine it's hard to get any real solid data on any of them except the most famous.”


“That doesn't concern me so much as why there's a Jedi negotiating for this weapon in the first place,” replied the man, setting down the data pad, “the only people I can see sending a Jedi for this sort of thing is the League, I'm sorry. I meant that new Commonality. But this is a ways away from them. How could they possibly know about if we only barely found out the auction, and we're only a few parsecs aways?”


She shrugged, “Remember those old holo-vids we used to watch as kids, the one about the Jedi fighting the evils of the CIS...I could swear I remember hearing one of them with a Jedi saying the Force works in mysterious ways. I swear it...”


“Hopefully not too mysterious,” snorted the corporate mogul, “because I really don't want to try negotiating a business deal against a Jedi, if it's true what they say. Mindreaders and all that...”


A new voice filtered in from the cockpit ahead of them, “ETA is three minutes.”


Both of them spared a quick glance at themselves in Aidan's pocket mirror, ensuring that there wasn't anything off putting to their appearance. While the natives of Karkaris, the Karkarodons, weren't known to be particularly concerned about personal appearances, they would likely found themselves on holo-cam at one point, or talking to other peoples who had traveled for the auction. Aidan thought that then their appearance could possibly make an impression that could have impacts later on in the future. The negotiators felt the craft drift to a stop before a slight shudder announced that the Hope had successfully landed on the resort island. The machinery operating the ramp whirled to life, lowering a part of the floor to touch down on the duracrete pad below. Glancing at each other, the two walked down the ramp, side by side. Currents of air whirled around them, rippling the hem of Aidan's blue dress and tugging at the seams of Finnbar's dark trousers.


As they set foot on the ground, each glanced around. But there was no-one to greet them at the landing pad. A brief grin wrinkled across Aidan's face, who turned to Finnbar. The businessman gazed across the horizon, watching the waves gently lap up against the shore before focusing on the glass-paned resort center. It was a massive construct, dominating the center of the small island before stretching out to almost invade the black sand beaches which lined the island. Aidan shook her head.


“And here I thought we'd be overwhelmed with holo-cams.”


Finnbar shook his head, “The Karkarodons aren't known for that sort of behavior of fame or status obsessed behavior, but I admit, I was expecting to at least see someone else here, even if it was just a greeting droid.”


“Well, since there isn't, shall we go inside and figure this Karkarodon hospitality out?”


Finnbar nodded, “Might as figure out where to begin at least.”
 

As they walked towards the resort, the two Confederates eyed the sun's rays glanced off of the transparasteel facade of the complex. Suddenly, the glass in front of them shattered as a pair of speeders burst through the windows. Instinctively Ambassador Aidan clutched Finnbar, who half-fell to the ground. The pair tumbled as the whines of blaster fire pierced the air. Under the cover fire of his comrades, one of the cloaked humanoids in the wavespeeders tossed a multitude of cylinders at the gaping hole they had just inflicted on the resort. As the bombs clattered onto the duracrete patio, the Confederates saw a series of brief lights wildly flash on the grenades before they detonated into a swirling mixture of gases. Blaster fire streaming from inside the building slackened to a halt. The confederates both heard an unusual snap-hiss pop out from the building before a brown-robed alien wielding a green saber emerged from the noxious cloud of gases. The Aqualish Jedi casually sprinted towards the pursued, occasionally stopping to parry a blaster bolt back at its senders. One of the gun pods on the Enlightened Hope opened fire, lashing out at rapidly disappearing speeders. A column of smoke rose up from one of the speeders before the vehicle disappeared past the horizon and into the setting sun.


“What have they done,” whispered Aidan, scrambling to her feet, “Mister Finnbar, I'm so sorry. I didn't tell our people to shoot...”


Finnbar slowly got onto his own feet, “There's little we can do about it now. The gunner probably thought that he was aiding the Jedi there, a force for good. Let us just hope that the Jedi is one of their allies...”


“Are any of you hurt?” called out the Jedi, striding towards the confederates.


“Not I,” stated Finnbar plainly, glancing at the woman, “Ambassador?”


The red-haired woman shook her head, “Nothing serious.”


The wide-lidded eyes of the Jedi knight closed half-way as he eyed their Unitas pins, “You are the Confederates.”


“We are,” acknowledged Aidan, combing through her disheveled hair, “Jedi Knight Garmov, I presume? It is an honor to meet you...”


Glancing at the sunset, the Jedi flipped a switch on the hilt of his saber, deactivating it's luminous blade. The alien eyed the two of them curiously. Aidan half-expected to feel some sort of presence probing her mind, yet she felt nothing abnormal. A pair of Karkarodons clad in blue blast vests and wielding some sort of blaster rifle adapted to their webbed hands ran towards them. Even more terrifying in real life. The shark-headed humanoids turned their beady eyes to the Jedi.


“Did they escape?”


“Some of them did,” replied the Jedi, “the Confederates here shot one of the wavespeeders with a laser cannon on their transport. It is likely damaged. I imagine it couldn't have gone very far. I will organize a search party to find and detain the intruders, if your captain will allow it.”


“That won't be necessary,” growled a new voice, belonging to an approaching Karkarodon with a set of jagged scars running across his massive neck, “my people will handle it, Jedi. Ambassador Aidan, Mr. Finnbar, I see that you have arrived. You came just in time to see the whelps escape, the yellow-livered excuses of Karkarodons scamper off with it.”


Finnbar frowned, “Scamper off with what?”


“The process for how we make the Hydroid Medusas,” cursed the alien, “but we will find them. And when we do...well, none of you would think it polite to say in public as to what I and the Council will do to them...”


“Or perhaps to even think,” said the Jedi with a brief flutter of his eyelids, “I wish to talk with the two of you Confederates tonight before the auction tomorrow...”


“There will no auction yet, “grunted Tamson, waving his warriors to head back to the building, “nor will there be until the data is recovered or ensured to be destroyed. It would not be fair to the other bidders. Confederates, I wish to ask a favor of you, on behalf of our people's council.”


“What can we do for you, Chief Tamson?”


“Your warriors in space can ensure that no-one leaves this world with the plans. I will petition the council, they will give you the legal standing to search all starships attempting to leave the world. The data they copied, they stole, it cannot remain with them.”


The Jedi squinted his eyes, “You intend to give the Confederates the first of your latest batch in return, don't you? You cannot do this, Chief.”


“Did I give you permission to enter my mind, Jedi? Am I one to seek permission from you with what I will do with my world's treasures.”


“I did not,” replied the Aqualish, “but I already know you well enough to know that you are honorable and fair in your own way. But perhaps mistaken in the severity of your actions.”


“Do not preach to me, Jedi,” growled the karkarodon, “if Chief Willa did not honor you so much in the council, I would allow your presence here.”


“Let's not get too judgmental or hasty here,” suggested the red-haired ambassador, “None of us here want to see those weapons spread into the wrong hands.”


“Beings,” corrected the Jedi, “but I suppose you are right, in a certain sort of way. We must rout and fight the evil as best as we are able to at the present time. I will join your hunt tomorrow, Chief Tamson, if you will allow me. I apologize if I have offended you. I only want what is best for the peoples of the galaxy, including your own, Chief.”


The karkarodon grimaced, “We shall see, Jedi.”
 

Captain's Quarters, Pegasus-class Star Destroyer Audacieuse, in orbit via Karkaris


“No, he doesn't know about this meeting...why would Finnbar need to know so much?”


Captain Judicaël briefly nodded at the holo of Ambassador Aidan in acknowledgment. A bright light still shone brightly through the glass windows of her resort room, yet he knew that it was midnight there; why the area remained so brightly lit was a phenomenon he couldn't understand. Yet the woman still seemed surprisingly fresh and awake to the man. I wonder what her secret is...aside from a lot of caf...


“I was just curious if he was in on it,” mused the kashan man, “as much as I dislike this pretext, I find myself liking it even less now.”


The redhead nodded, “I agree. We risk being seen as the Chief's own supporters or as foreign bullies to the rest of Karkaris.”


“Moreover it is going to interfere with my actual mission,” sighed Captain, “it will be hard to quietly deploy the vehicles needed to find the terrorist cell which Brasck spoke of while we're constantly watched.”


“Be happy their council approved it in the first place,” retorted the woman, “I'm sure Chief Tamson here would love to stir up the whole ocean looking for a possible fight. You should be happy that the rest of the council showed some restraint. Besides, perhaps the terrorists are the ones who stole the documents in the first place.”


“Perhaps,” admitted Judicaël, leaning forward, “it is a rather quiet world despite the karkarodons' occasional tribal battles. Has the council announced the customs blockade yet?”


The redhead shook her head, “Tomorrow morning.”


“I will deploy them now,” decided the Confederate captain, “before all eyes are on us. I would like to hold out on telling the search party about our findings.”


“Why's that?”


“Because,” started the captain, “a wavespeeder can only go so far before it too will have to stop for fuel and other regular maintenance. I intend to start a search radius that will mushroom out from the damaged waveskimmer's location in hopes of finding the thieves. If they are the terrorists, I will take them down quietly.”


“And if they aren't?”


Judicaël's lip wrinkled, “I can't say for sure, that'd be dependent on the situation.”


“I see. Keep me informed captain, and I will keep you informed in turn.”


“Yes Ambassador. Good night.”


“To you as well,” replied the woman, cutting off their connection.


Judicaël fiddled with his comlink, “Colonel?”


“Yes Captain?”


“There's been a change of plans. Prepare your people for the landing. We'll be deploying within the hour.”
 

Poseidon-class Walker Trident Two, Northern Hemisphere, Karkaris


Sergeant Riggs felt their giant saucer plunge through the night sky towards the world below, it's undersides burning white-hot under the friction. The repulsorlift's kicked in right before it splashed into the sea and sank towards the bottom. She fidgeted with the command console of the roughly crab-shaped vehicle. Flipping through various screens until she reached the desired camera that she wished to peer out of. She immediately frowned. Ugh. It's pitch black despite the sun still being up...Fiddling with the controls a little longer, she reached some sort of night vision mode that allowed her to watch their descent to the depths of Karkaris. Various fish and other sea-going creatures swam around her; many fled the strange object with its flashing running lights, yet some drew near the lights, including a colorful school of fish which pecked at the opaque glass-like material which covered the walker's entry pod. They soon left as the walker sank deeper into the sea. She felt them stop falling, yet it barely seemed noticeable. She glanced at another crewmember's screen, which noted that the deflector shields had successfully recalibrated to help the Poseidon withstand the crushing depths of the waters. The man looked at her expectantly.


“We're going to get eaten. I just know it. There's going to be a big fish, and then a bigger fish...”


Riggs spared a glance at the private, “And you were doing so well too. I'm going to be very tempted to toss you out the upper hatch just so you can confirm something's going to eat you at this rate. Ain't no use complaining about it now, you're here. Let's go people.”


One of the astromech droids tootled and released the outer covering of the disposable pod. The eight-legged walker strode onto the sea bed floor, it's legs stirring up minute clouds of fine sand into the water that almost went half-way up the walker's legs. Riggs briefly smiled. And nothing's wrong yet.


“Go ahead Saah, start our search grid. The rest of you, sensors, now. I'll keep an eye on things closer to home. Let's see if we can't find ourselves a terrorist base.”


“What about the processing plant?”


“You were want to check out that old place?” questioned Riggs, “you know fine, let's check out it since it isn't too far away, but don't expect much from an old, wrecked fishery station.”


“Yes sergeant, by the regs.”


Trident Two slowly scurried across the seabed floor, deftly climbing over small ridges and plowing its way through fields of sea weed. All the time, Sergeant Rigg's and her crew monitored the sensors of their transport. Sonar showed little save for schools of fish flashing by them or larger sea creatures drifting around the strange vehicle, trying to determine if it was a predator or prey. One of the largest fish any of them had ever seen rammed the side of the walker's dorsal hull. A series of quick light blaster bursts from the leg-mounted weapons lashed out at the fish and drove it away. Finally, the Confederate vehicle stumbled through some sort of a grove of some sort of kelp-related plants to the entrance of a great chasm which split the sea floor asunder.


“There it is,” murmured Riggs, pointing out a shadowy globe resting at the highest precipice in the underwater trench.


The walker crouched down and scuttled towards the abandoned fishery station. Strands and sections of metal mesh lay skewered across the floor, corroding away or spurting growths of colonizing organisms among them. Few fish traveled near the station, preferring to slither through the chasm beneath it or high above. Riggs checked the vehicle's DER's for any sort of energy signatures, but there was only a faint one, suggesting that most of the station remained unoccupied. The walker cautiously crept up the side of the slope.


“Shouldn't we be going where the fish are?”


Riggs shook her head, “We'll scare them off, and that'll make anyone in there suspicious about what's disturbing the wildlife. So it's best that we try to stay away from the wildlife in this case, I think. Since we're so low to the seaboard, it'll be hard to get a positive location because we'll blend in with the seaboard on their pings, especially if we keep our movement slow. We just have to be careful to try and keep our noise down.”


Nearly an hour passed before the walker finally reached the decrepit building, yet nothing had attacked them yet, nor were their any signs of occupation in the underwater complex. A blue-skinned multopo from New Hesiode banged his webbed hand on the cabin's door. Riggs stepped up and opened it up the alien. Lieutenant Icel stared at the human sergeant with his wide eyes.


“My troops and I are going to take a little swim to investigate this place, sergeant.”


“Yes sir. Would you like us to remain here, or should we explore the rest of the area.”


“Go explore it, but come back right to this very spot in a half hour.”


“Yes sir.”


Nodding, the multopo exited the room, allowing Sergeant Riggs to batten down the hatches. Once she had ascertained that both hatches had properly sealed, she pulled a pair of mechanical levers, allowing the troops inside the twin cargo holds of the vehicle to exit via the upper hatches into the oceans. She glanced at the dozens of multopos swimming into the decrepit station wielding sonic blasters and carrying bandoliers full of supplies and explosives. There they go, and here we come...
 

Conference Room, Tamson's Island Resort, Karkaris


Aidan strode into the room, followed shortly by Finnbar. Like the rest of the resort, the rectangular room was almost painfully well-lit and emphasized large open spaces with crisp, clean-cut lines. A rectangular table, surrounded by minimalist black and polished steel chairs, took up most of the room's space. Minutes later, most of the other bidders began to enter the room and sat down at the table: a well-known arm's merchant from Quermia, several representatives from local militaries, and a half dozen people who were almost suspiciously too nondescript. Finally, the towering Chief Tamson entered with Jedi Knight Garmov nipping at his heels. The Aqualish Jedi briefly tugged at the karkarodon's sleeve, making another appeal.


“The sale will happen, Jedi, my people need funds, just as everyone else does in this galaxy,” snarled Tamson, slapping the Jedi's claw-like hands away from his clothes.


The Jedi eyed him carefully, “You are making a grave mistake, Chief.”


“My Jedi Knight,” called out Ambassador Aidan, with a beckoning hand, “would you kindly sit by me?”


The Aqualish Jedi stared at her, “I suppose one shouldn't waste the seat you saved me. Thank you Ambassador.”


Tamson strode forward to the head of the table, “My friends, the plans to the Hydroid Medusas have been recovered. So we will resume the bidding.”


Aidan watched the Jedi closely, yet the alien seemed unperturbed. Instead, the Jedi pulled out a datapad from underneath the folds of his robes and quietly pressed a few buttons while Tamson went over the selling points of the mechanically augmented creatures. While she managed to keep most of her focus on Tamson, she couldn't keep her thoughts from going back towards the Jedi beside her. Putting the communication's datapad away, the Aqualish stared at her quietly with his big black eyes. He leaned in closer towards the woman.


“Why are you thinking about me?”


“Because...you are not who you say are,” whispered back the redhead, “the real Gamrov had to have died years ago.”


“I am standing right here next to you...”


“You may have been able to alter the records here on Karkaris,” replied the woman, “but not the records kept in the Almas Jedi Academy. According to them, you should be nearly 120 years old, if you were the same one who kept an eye on this world after the Karkarodon's defeat by the Republic during the Clone Wars. But you do not look the right age, unless you are a phantom or ghost, or something else...”


“You are mistaken-”


A quick whine echoed throughout the room and a bright blue burst smashed into the side of the alien's head, causing the Jedi's head to slump forward to rest onto the conference room's table. A squad of Tamson's warriors shuffled in through the doors among the shocked onlookers to scoop up the stunned alien from his chair, while Chief Tamson lowered and holstered his blaster pistol. The shark-like being gazed across the room at the various occupants.


“Do not think you can cheat us, my friends, like Jedi Knight Gamrov here. If that is who he truly is. It was he who all along who has been working with a group of terrorists to try and steal the Hydroid Medusas from us. Only a chance discovery of their thief's drop point in an old underwater fishing plant by our Confederate allies foiled his plan. And for their efforts, the Confederates will be awarded the first production run of the Hydroid Medusas at a reduced cost. But know this, I can be a reasonable man. If any of you were working with the Jedi here, I will spare you now, if you show yourself and tell me what you know. If you do not do so now, I swear by our gods that when you are discovered, you will suffer a pain far worse than you could every possibly imagine, as you half-drown in a container filled with our Hydroid Medusas flaying your skin and sending thousands of jolts of electricity through your body.”


The karkarodon kept looking around the room, but no-one moved. Aidan glanced around the room's occupants. To her surprise, few of them seemed shocked by the sudden violence or the true nature of Gamrov. Has violence and deceit truly become so common here?  The chief then opened up the bidding war for the second, upcoming production run of the Hydroid Medusas. But while the various members in the room quietly began to work out deals to act in bidding blocks, Aidan's mind travelled to different realms of possibilities. She wondered if perhaps in his falseness, Gamrov had inadvertently been right: was it truly right to breed creatures and modify them for war? The Republic had, as had the Empire after it, with their legions of clone troopers. While it was somewhat comforting to remember that the hydroid medusas lacked the innate intelligence of another human being, she wondered if that truly made it right. Certainly animal rights activists would oppose their use, as would droid rights activists too. Yet she wondered if there was any way in which any sort of technology was being abused, or rather, if it was their uses that would truly inspire repugnance in their existence? While Aidan immersed herself in philosophy, Confederates thousands of kilometers away fought a different struggle; a battle for their own lives.
 

Poseidon-class Walker Trident Two, Northern Hemisphere, Karkaris


The walker clambered up the sea shelf towards the light shining above them. Minutes later, the vehicle had marched up the slope far enough that the vehicle was no longer submerged. Trident Two began its march onto the beach among a flurry of blaster bolts and war cries. Riggs spared a look below as hundreds of Chief Tamson's warriors surfaced from the water with the genetically enhanced Multopos of New Hesiode. Brief bursts of blaster fire echoed out from the rocky atoll at the Confederate soldiers. The dozens of light-repeating blasters on top of the walker's legs lashed out at the defender's positon, driving them back. Suddenly more heavy fire errupted from the tallest parts of the atoll. She winced as heavy laser fire tore at the vehicle's shields, which rippled with shades of blue to light greens. Since Trident Two had been equipped with a heat-dispersion secondardy shield, the damage had not been too intensive despite its high volume. More heavy weapons opened up from across the island. A battery of medium ion cannons opposite of the pillbox began to target the walkers, but Trident Three, equipped with an ion-resistant photon scatterind module, clambered forward to block the fire from hitting the other more vulnerable walkers. She winced. I'd say it's safe to say that someone was able to tip them off that we were coming...must have been that Jedi Knight. She shook her head form the thoughts to hear Private Elad screaming about incoming shell fire. Trident One, with its anti-concussion field activated, walked forward to soak oup the projectile fire better than the other walkers.


“We get the pillbox with the laser batteries,” decided Riggs.


The crab-like walker scrambled through the sandy dunes, wrecking havoc into the defender's lines by scrambling over the impromptu barriers raised by the rebels and drenching the immediate air around the walker with blaster fire. The walker's ball-mounted homing laser swathed through the more dense pockets of karkarodon fighters, incinerating them where they stood in their foxholes. A few opposing soldiers launched missiles at the walker, but Trident Two's light repeating blasters soon cut the missiles down in a torrent of blaster fire. The walker lurched forward into the stream of fire from the fortification. An ancient AAT emerged from the branches and fire at the vehicle at nearly point-blank range. The Poseidon promptly swung forward one of its massive claws, grasped the repulsorlift vehicle and drag it partway into the air before beginning to burn it away with a plasma jet. The tank's crew scrambled to get out, prompting Riggs to cease the plasma jet's operation. Despite the newly created hole in the tank, Riggs decided to spare the rest of the craft's destruction, and instead had the claw promptly discard it to the side of the walker.


A quartet of STAPs emerged from the trees, harassing the vehicle with a storm of blaster fire. They skittered around the walker, only ceasing their attack when the homing laser began to carefully destroy the armored vehicles with short bursts of energy. As the rebel vehicles retreated, the pillbox renewed its attack on the Confederate walker. Yet the vehicle still clambered forward towards the pillbox, its shielding slowly burning up under the concentrated attack. But then the walker had reached the pillox. Its claws grasped the barrels of the bunker's weaponry and forcefully rended them inoperable, while the homing laser began to bore away into the thick duracrete to provide a new entrance for the dozens of battle droids in the walker's holds. The walker had soon burried its way into the bunker and lowered its ramps, unleashing dozens of C1 battle droids directly into the bunker itself. Across the atoll, the walkers subdued the static defenses and released their complements of infantry onto the isalnd itself. Within hours, the rebels' base had fallen to the combined forces of the Confederation and Chief Tamson.
 

Epilogue...


île de l'Espoir Base, Karkaris


Ambassador Aidan strolled down the beach, accompanied by Chief Tamson and Mr. Finnbar. An army of labor droids from both the fleet in orbit and the Karkarodons' council was busy clearing away the wreckage of yesterday's battle. The Poseidon walkers of Trident group clambered over the island, busily demolishing many of the buildings that had been condemned from damage sustained during the fighting. The walkers scooped away the debris with their claws and incinerated much of the rubble with their lasers and plasma jets. Further in the island, the walkers began to tunnel and burrow into the ground, with their claws scooping out loose dirt and sand. Plasma jets quickly helped weakened some of the more compacted dirt, allowing the claws to scoop it out. The composite lasers than bored through the more solid rock in the deepest sections. Aidan knew that a variety of sensors not only guided the walkers through the subterranean labyrinth they were creating, but also identified useful ores and stone which would be used to construct the new Confederation Base on the island.


“You see how these machines work,” noted Mr. Finnbar, sweeping a hand at one of the crab-shaped vehicles, “I think three of the hydroid medusas for one of the walkers would be a fair trade.”


“Three medusas for two walkers,” countered Chief Tamson, “we are one nation now that the Contegorian Council ratified our membership treaty. It would be wise not to take advantage of an ally.”


Finnbar briefly nodded, “I can probably find some subcontractors in the Proper that could make that deal work. It will take some time.”


“We will survive, no, thrive until then, Mr. Finnbar. If the Confederation has access to such impressive technology, I have little doubt that the Reavers will stand no chance at overrunning our planet.”


Aidan turned her eyes from the waters of the world back to the two men, “I wouldn't be so worried about the Reavers. Since Gamrov or whoever that was escaped, I bet he will be back.”


“It is unfortunate that he managed to tip the rebels off that we were coming,” agreed Tamson, “perhaps we should have taken him down sooner.”


“He had to be distracted by my interest in him,” countered the redheaded woman, “otherwise he would have seen your threat coming.”


“If he is a real Jedi.”


“We don't know if he isn't. Looking at the holos, they appear to be fairly similar looking, some skin and subspecies together.”


“Perhaps family,” suggested Tamson, “but it matters not. When he returns, we will be more than ready for him...”