“But I really feel like I’m not improving,” complained Alha as we walked down the dirty streets of Ord Mantell City.

“Your swordsmanship has gotten better, you’ve gotten physically stronger, and you managed to fend off a few nightbrothers. That’s no small feat,” I explained.

“I’m not talking about that!” She retorted. “I can’t feel it. I can’t even lift that damn coin!”

“It’s been less than a few weeks. This takes time…” I tried to explain.

“And now you have me sparring that damned kid. It’s embarrassing! If you're going to beat lessons into me at least do it yourself!” she exclaimed.

“Use my name when you are speaking of me,” Merrin cut in. “It’s nothing to be ashamed about. The sisters trained me from a young age.”

Merrin didn't need to leave the starship with us, but she seemed interested in checking out other planets. It was her first time off Dathomir, and Ord Mantell was nothing like that swamp.

“Yeah kid, I’ve been fighting since I was little too,” she retorted.

“Backyard scraps on some desert planet hardly compare to being trained by some of the best warriors in the galaxy,” Merrin replied.

"Backyard scraps? I fought slavers! I killed a terentatak!" she replied. I rolled my eyes. Weeks ago she didn't even know that beast was a terentatak.

"A terentatak? the Nightsisters taught me to kill and tame beasts like rancors," Merrin replied.

“If they were so good-“ Alha started to say.

“Would you look at that! We’re here” I said to cut her off. I could tell where this conversation was going, and I didn’t need Alha opening that can of worms. Besides, we were at our destination in one of the seediest parts of the city.

Cid’s Parlor fits all the characteristics of a dive bar. It was in a dark alley off the main streets. It was below street level, and you entered by walking downs a flight of stairs to the door. The interior was the type of dirty that seemed impossible to clean. Years of gunk and rust buildup gave it plenty of permanent stains and discoloring. There were also almost no patrons.

The parlor was split between a bar, booths, and some arcade-style games. Almost all of the areas were empty of people. The few patrons inside were either in a complete stupor, looked ready to pull a vibroknife at a moment’s notice, or both. Which was odd, since it was only around lunchtime.

“Here, go crazy,” I said and handed a pouch of credits to Merrin.

“Why would this make me crazy?” she asked.

“It’s a figure of speech. Just check out a few of the arcade games, and try not to hurt anyone,” I explained before giving her a push towards the games. Merrin had proven to be an odd combination of mature and incredibly inexperienced since we picked her up. That's probably what happens when you grow up on a backwater world without your family.

“Play games? I’m not a child…” she muttered but headed towards the nearest game console anyways.

I took a seat at the bar and Alha followed suit.

“What did I say about mentioning her family?” I said with annoyance to Alha once Merrin was out of earshot.

“I know…it just slipped out,” she replied.

“No more slips, losing your family is tough enough, especially the way it happened... She doesn’t need someone reminding her about it,” I snapped.

“Yeah, I would know,” she replied.

“What’ll it be?” asked the female trandoshian behind the bar in a surly tone. She sounded a lot reminiscent of a middle-aged smoker from New York.

I glanced over at the taps to choose a drink, though I realized I had no idea what any of the flavors meant. “Do you have any spotchka?” I replied.

She raised an eye-ridge as if to say, “are you sure?” before actually saying, “Comin right up.”

“We’re also looking to hire a team,” I said as she filled our drinks.

“Try the guilds on Carajam or Navaro. You won’t find anything like that here,” she replied, trying to dismiss the notion.

“We aren’t looking for mercs or bounty hunters,” I replied. “I need a team I can trust. Maybe a set of specialized ex-soldiers?”

The trandoshian looked like she was about to spit out another surly come back but she was cut off when a loud bang could be heard from the gaming machines. They were followed by a few expletives from Merrin. She was currently venting her frustration at losing some type of block-stacking game.

“Control your brat! Who brings a kid to the bar anyway?” she said.

I flicked a finger out with the force, sending a small push that hit Merrin in the back of the head.

She turned and glared at me. I glared back long enough for her to break eye contact.

Just as I turned back around, I heard a distinctly New Zealand accent come from over by the gaming systems. “Ah yeah, I had some troubles with Pillars of Geonosis too,” the new girl said. She was short and blonde and resembled a certain famous bounty hunter.

“Yeah, who houses a kid at a bar anyway?” I said with a smirk at the bartender. “Listen Cid, how about we talk more in your office,” I continued. Then I moved to show off my saber handle, just to let her know that I wasn’t asking.

Kalani examined the datasets laid out before him. The droid was currently aboard the bridge of the newly dubbed Munificent-1. It was a large ship, but not massive. It was vaguely beetle-shaped, with sloping armor covering a skeletal interior. Unlike previous leaders that usually asked for the impossible, the new supreme commander was asking for relatively little of the droid.

The Supreme Commander had only made three specific requests. The three munificent class frigates and contingents of BX-series droids he required were the kind of tasks Kalani could accomplish with relatively little risk. Sure, the third task of trying to collect IG-100s was proving more difficult but hardly unnecessary. A true Supreme Martial Commander must be protected by IG-100s as was protocol. The added directives of “playing it safe and being discreet” had effectively tied his hands on that front for the moment. Magnaguards were rarely supplied to any but the highest officers, thus it was unlikely that they would be found outside of the most important installations.

In fact, things were proceeding exactly according to Kalani’s calculations. The first three Munificents were found and requisitioned almost immediately. They were stationed by a deep space supply depot. The station was little more than a refuel and resupply spot in a barren system near the Toprawa system. The large platform of tanks and crates floated just at the edge of the system, almost outside of the stars gravity.

The station was relatively unimportant but with the massive number of ships under the CIS’s command, the three frigates he requested would have been an incredibly light defense fleet even for this type of station. That's because they weren't the only ships defending the station. There were an additional four munificents resting in space around the depot, while a further two lucrehulks were docked for resupply when everything shut down.

That made a good start to the fleet for now, though it was less than a single percentage of the forces Supreme Martial Commander Zaros would have been commanding a month ago. By previous metrics, even the current ships would make a paltry First-Fleet. For a man as high ranking as Zaros, the First-Fleet must at least have a Providence-Class Cruiser or better yet the larger star-destroyer variant. That would be a true flagship for the Supreme Commander.

With a few clicks on the command board, Kalani brought up a holograph of the galaxy. Several systems on the map displayed the same marking that led him to this position. Then he held a hand to his head and activated the communicator. “Telro, you will head to the Calrosi system aboard Munificent-2, a probe has come back with signs of a derelict fleet there. I will be moving through the rest of the southern systems we have scouted,” Kalani commanded.

“The Supreme Commander will be most pleased, Kalani. It has been far too long since we have over-delivered in such a way,” Telro replied over the communicator.

“I concur. Commander Zaros seems to have underestimated our abilities. An early victory like this will show him our value,” Kalani replied. Kalani didn't have emotions or even emotive processors, but he estimated that if he did, overachieving in such a fashion would have certainly caused him joy.

Caleb’s day had started out normal enough. Or at least as normal as it got after being labeled a traitor of the republic. When they got off Kaller, the group immediately left for Kamino. That had been a nerve-wracking affair to say the least. But it was nothing Clone Force 99 didn’t have covered. The commandos basically marched into the place, grabbed Omega, and flew out before anyone could really ask questions.

Then the group made for Ord Mantell which has since become their new home while Billaba recovers. They couldn’t afford a bacta-tank, though they did have enough bacta-patches to at least stop her internal bleeding. The blaster shot from Crosshair essentially burned out a chunk of her lungs, an almost fatal wound had Billaba not been a Jedi master. Caleb had no skill at healing, and Billaba has been far too weak to self-heal cauterized wounds in the ensuing weeks. It was all she could do to stay stable. Thus, it was down to recovering the hard way. That basically meant bed rest inside Cid’s bar.

That was the other thing. The group had turned into a set of odd-jobbers working under Cid. The trandosian was apparently an old Jedi informant, though, with their treachery, she was forced to become a glorified mercenary dispatcher.

The Bad Batch was often off on missions of all sorts. Free a rancor here, save some group there, deliver guns, deliver supplies, etc. etc. The only other mission of note came early on when they all decided to remove their chips on Brakka. With Crosshair either constantly tied up, constantly sedated, or both, removing the inhibitor chips was a necessity to keep everyone safe. That guy never seemed to be in a good mood either. Caleb used to chalk it up to the inhibitor chip, but once it was removed Crosshair never got any nicer.

That said, none of these fun missions ever seemed to involve Caleb or his new friend Omega. Sure they could tag along on certain supply runs, but anytime the job involved danger, they were pushed out. They were constantly being left back at Cid’s bar while the Bad Batch traveled across the galaxy. Omega, he could understand, but Caleb was a fully trained padawan. He had literally been in battle a few weeks ago. He was their ranking officer, but now he was forced to hang out in a dirty bar most days.

So, like usual, Caleb spent the morning meditating and going through his forms. He would periodically check on his master to make sure she was comfortable but other than that the day was his.

He was just finishing up that day’s saber exercises in the storage room when he started to get the weirdest feeling. It wasn’t necessarily a bad feeling, like the danger you would feel right before a fight. It certainly had nothing on the despair he felt just as Order 66 hit. But, it wasn't a good feeling. It started off more like an annoying itch or the tickle of when a bug crawls across your skin.

Once he realized it was there, it only got worse. When he checked on Billaba, she was out cold, so he couldn't use her council. Yet his feeling just got worse. It slowly morphed into a feeling of oppression or claustrophobia, like when you sit in a dark room and can’t see anything around you.

“Omega, did anything weird happen today? It’s like…I’ve been on edge for a while now,” Caleb said as he entered the bar’s main room. Omega was over by the gaming consoles with some teenage girl. That was an odd sight itself. In all their time here, the only kids that ever came into Cid’s bar were the two of them.

“See the trick is you have to press the button a few moments before you think you’re supposed to press it, like this,” Omega said as she taught the girl the trick to the old machine. True to her word, every time she hit the button, the moving blocks stacked onto each other perfectly. “What was that Caleb?” she said, only turning around after completing the stack.

“Did you see anything suspicious?” He asked again. Then he eyed the new girl. She was about as tall as him and probably a human. Though her features all looked like a normal humanoid, it was her odd coloring that set her apart. Her skin was pearl white, almost a little gray. Her hair was silvery-white while a series of grey markings adorned her face.

She noticed him checking on her and gave him an annoyed once over in response.

“Nothing crazy. Oh, this is Merrin, her friends are here on business with Cid,” she explained, then she turned to Merrin. “This is Caleb, he’s been staying with us for a while. What kind of mission do your friends need completing?” she asked the girl.

“My companions? I suppose he is planning some type of heist or something and felt your team was right for the job,” she explained. “I didn’t care to listen to the details.”

“And you get to go with?!” exclaimed Omega.

“I would assume so. Otherwise, they would not have gone out of the way to recruit me,” she replied.

The oppressive feeling hadn’t gotten any better when Caleb entered the barroom. If anything, it slowly got worse as they talked with Merrin. He stumbled for a moment, then sat down on one of the stools.

“Are you alright?” Omega asked. It had taken her a few moments to notice him as teaching Merrin the ins and outs of video games had kept her attention.

“No…I don’t know. I feel darkness. It’s like if someone pressed a shroud over your head,” he began to say before he detected a surge of energy. A flash of danger exploded through the force, like an alarm originating from Cid’s office.

Caleb bolted to the door and fingered his hidden saber handle that he kept tucked into a wide pack on his belt. When he burst into Cid’s office he was greeted with a terrifying sight. A massive red man, probably a Zeltron, had her by the collar. In an impressive feat of strength, he had her lifted into the air with a single arm. More alarming though was the red lightsaber in his other hand.

“You’ve been testing my patience Cid. I came as a friend, but if you keep leading me around-,” the man was saying as he brought the saber close to her body.

“Put her down!” Caleb yelled before igniting his own blade.

The brute turned around looked over with an annoyed glance, before turning his attention back to Cid. Then he looked back at Caleb again and just stared at the boy for a few moments. His face slowly lost the scowl as it morphed into a look of confusion and then finally one of realization.

“Kanan?” he said.

“Who?” Caleb replied.

The man dropped Cid, who slumped back into her chair before turning his full attention to Caleb. He nodded towards the Togrutan woman who unsheathed a vibroblade and placed it near Cid’s neck.

The sense of fatality that Caleb had felt a moment before dissipated. The oppressive feeling of the dark side did not though. If anything, it was far worse inside the office.

“You. Your name is... I’m blanking here. You’re a padawan to...uh, Master Barbados. No, that’s not right,” he said while scratching his head.

Caleb had no idea what he was talking about, but he was clearly dangerous. “What are you doing here?” he asked trying to hide the fear in his voice.

The man looked around before he gave me a smirk. “Isn’t it obvious? We’re negotiating, now shut your blade off before you cut yourself, er Jacob?” he replied.

“My names Caleb! And I know what you are, Sith!” he yelled. By that point, Merrin and Omega were peeking in from the door. Merrin looked interested, but otherwise unperturbed. Omega's eyes were wide at the goings on and didn't seem able to process everything.

“I knew that. It was on the tip of my tongue,” the man said. Then he reached out with his left hand and the oppressive darkness in the room deepened. Caleb tried to take a step back, but his limbs didn’t respond. Instead, he felt a crushing sensation as his legs were forced together and his arms were pushed down to his sides. A pressure on his wrist forced him to drop his blade which clattered down to the floor. Once he was fully immobilized, his body slowly floated over to a chair before being forcibly pressed down into it.

“Stay like that till you calm down boy,” he said, then he turned towards the doorway. “You two might as well come in at this point.”

Omega and Merrin slowly complied, and the door slammed shut behind them. Only then did the man turn his attention back to Cid.

“Now Cid. You claim to know nothing about a group of enhanced clones, but for some reason, you’re harboring their little sister?”

My jaw dropped when we exited hyperspace in the Yavin System.

“Hail them! Get Kalani on the line. I need an explanation for this,” I commanded 2V.

2V rushed over to the holo-communicator at the center of the bridge before nervously typing at the keyboard. Within a few moments, we were greeted by the classic blue holographic image of… a T-1?

“Greetings Supreme Commander, we were awaiting your arrival. You may proceed with your approach,” the droid said.

I glanced back out the front window, where a pair of lucrehulks were resting in orbit of Yavin-4. The two massive ships were flanked by another five munificents. Then I turned back towards the droid.

“Where is Kalani?” I demanded.

“As per your orders High Admiral Kalani and High General Telro are continuing with the reactivation and recovery efforts,” he replied.

“Ok, but I thought I gave him a list…wait. I never promoted him to High Admiral! And who’s this Telro?” I demanded.

“My apologies sir, acting-high admiral. As per protocol, the position needed to be filled and he was the next in line. Acting High General Telro is the designation for the T-2 droid that you recovered yourself, sir,” the droid explained.

“And they left…you in charge of the fleet, um…” I said, still stumbling over my words.

“Yes Sir, I am TX-25 and acting-captain of the newly designated Lucrehulk-1 and current ranking officer of the First-Fleet,” the droid offered.

I was almost afraid to ask about the implications, but I still managed to spit out the words, “…First-Fleet?”

“Yes Sir, according to protocols, your flagship must have a sizeable attachment. Once the roles have been fulfilled, we will begin assigning ships to the next fleet,” TX-25 explained.

Flagships? Secondary Fleets? Damn Lucrehulks?

This was getting out of hand. I wanted a small and stealthy set of ships capable of raiding, theft, and piracy; meaning I wanted a few munificents. Lucrehulks were not the type of ship you could raid with. In fact, they were basically just orbital stations fitted with hyperdrives. They lumbered about with massive complements of droids and most certainly could not stay hidden easily. Nor would anyone in the galaxy see me riding in that massive ship that dwarfed a Venator and believe it was just another freighter. And yes, I understood the irony in that sentiment.

Just as I was beginning to figure this out, I felt the shudder of a ship exit hyperspace near us. When I looked out of the viewfinder sure enough-

“Sir, we are being hailed by the Marauder,” 2V informed me.

“Fair enough. TX, I’ll talk to you more once we’ve docked. I expect an honor guard,” I said while trying to recover my dignity as a leader.

The hologram of the tactical droid was replaced by one of Hunter, the leader of the Bad Batch.

“You said you had a frigate. You didn’t say anything about droid command ships, I ain’t taking the shuttle anywhere near those death traps,” Hunter said with suspicion.

“Suit yourself, I’ll be stretching my legs for a while though. Feel free to float around until everything is ready to go,” I replied, then cut off the transmission.

I was deep in thought as I entered the main hold. Maybe my plans for the future would require some recalculations. Two lucrehulks meant something like two hundred thousand battle droids. Sure, the large majority of those were B1s but that also meant thousands of B2s and droidekas. Even B1s had their uses outside of battle. With some engineering software, they were more than capable of providing a cheap workforce. Maybe we should find a base out in wild space, maybe a mineral rich planet. Kidnap a few engineers, mining experts, maybe even a few geonosians, and set up a foundry…

“Thank you again, sir, er, Lord Zaros,” Caleb said. The boy must have exited the medical bay while I was lost in thought. He looked nervous, though that wasn’t anything unusual. Just about anytime I laid my eyes on him he flinched.

“How is she?” I replied.

“Good thankfully. Much better inside the kolto-tank. She stabilized as soon as it filled,” he replied.

“She would be even better if she hadn’t freaked out over nothing,” I said. The memory of my first meeting with Master Billaba was something I could laugh about now, even if it had been incredibly annoying at the time.

“Well…it’s just not every day you wake up to... well a Sith Lord staring at you,” Caleb replied.

“Examining her wound, and she tried to pull a saber on me,” I corrected him with an accusatory look.

“I apologize, sir. And thank you again,” Caleb said with a deferential bow. The boy's attitude had certainly improved since our first meeting.

“Don’t mention it. Anyways, it looks like we can update her treatment to bacta when we get over to my lucrehulk,” I replied. Bacta was superior to kolto in just about every way. Where kolto allowed you to regenerate from fatal wounds, bacta was akin to a miracle salve. So long as the base structure of an organ was still there, bacta would ensure a recovery. The stuff wasn't cheap though, and unless you were incredibly rich, or at least the captain of a well stocked battleship, then you wouldn't have ready access.

“That’s great! Er- did you just say l-lucrehulk?”