- Republic Command Center, Bothawui....

Major General Far’lek Crachek was not known for mincing words. And when he wasn’t able to be brutally honest, due to time or circumstance, he conveyed his thoughts about something with his massive blue Mon Calamari eyes. RT got that glare several times as General Crachek droned on, finally getting to the meat of the battle plan. All of the others sat up once the Mon Cal General started talking about the actual assault and what he hoped to accomplish. But not RT, he was attentive the whole time. Memorizing every word, running the already forming scenarios through his head as Crachek spoke about terrain and environment. The General wouldn’t dare plan RT’s part of the operation for him. High level Operation Orders didn’t function like that. But the Mon Cal made it very clear the result he wanted and the time RT was allowed. It was almost as if he wanted RT to fail. When conventional forces were unable to take down a hardened target like the one Shadow Squad had been called in for; they called Special Operations. The kind of units RT was in charge of.

Malgus moved positions. And planets. After bringing Malastare to a stand-still, it was apparent to the Republic that the Empire believed his inspiring presence was needed elsewhere. To RT, it was beginning to feel less like a War and more like a grand tour of the galaxy. At least from his point of view. They were doing more following and less fighting. Until now. Malgus was officially trapped. Cut off. As the battle on the ground wore on. The Republic gained control of the airspace and orbit, while the Imperials advantage on the ground came to a stand-still without that aerial support. They needed to drive that point home on a big way.

Being only a Brigadier General, RT was not expected to lead, much less go on an Operation personally. The target, RT's Target, was not the reinforced orbital gun emplacement facility General Crachek was speaking about; but Malgus himself. The Gun emplacement represented a hinderance in getting to that target. Just another obstacle in what the republic assigned RT to do. malgus being important enough to assign a General to the cause.

But as the Mon Cal general continued to speak, RT was calculating the probability that anyone could take down the emplacement from slim to absolute none. At least one major part of the attack that called for a specialist. Luckily, it was Shadow Squad on the ground and the other parts RT was already theorizing in his head would be well covered. He flashed a glance toward Cora, still listening intently.

The Chiss' decision to formally rejoin the Republic and the team was a good one. But he knew it was entirely selfish and one-sided. She joined formally so she could keep an eye on him and Murriel. There was still bad blood between the two girls. And it was all his fault. Had he kept his pants around his waist and not on Murriel’s floor none of it would have happened. At least he was happy to have Cora close. Cora’s anger was justified, RT would not try and take that away from her no matter what the reason she joined the Republic happened to be.

“…From N-hour plus two, there will be exactly twelve hours before Republic reinforcements arrive in orbit around Bothawui. They will assume an orbit that makes for an immediate drop on our AO; meaning the Imperial Gun facility must be destroyed and non-operational by that time.” Crachek looked at RT, who bent forward steepling his fingers in thought. “General Alpha, have you already decided what unit will be assigned to my command for this target?” RT grimaced at the question and stood rather slowly straightening his crisp blue tunic, but quickly took on a more formal attention like pose looking at his superior with steely eyes.

“Yes, Sir…Shadow Squad will be performing this mission. They are ninety percent combat effective in this sector and rated on the specific type of assaults I’m considering for this target.”

“Very well…” Crachek was already looking back toward the holo-map. Once the General noticed RT had not yet taken his seat, he looked back up. “Was there something else General?”

“Yes, Sir…I regret to inform the General that the unit being dispatched will not be falling under his command.” Crachek stood up completely, slapping the flimsy sheave of papers he was holding on the map control panel. The holo-schematic flickered at the motion, finally getting its full resolution before the Mon Cal could ask why. “I will be leading the team myself. Shadow Squad is only ninety percent effective due to our last mission and the loss of the tactical officer would be key to this type of operation. He was rated one-hundred percent on zero-g combat and this target will require someone with knowledge of vertical ascent in order to be successful, given the time table you’ve allotted.”

“Negative.” Crachek leaned forward before pushing his hands up off the map to stand upright. Clasping them behind his back he blinked several times in a Mon Cal show of annoyance before pursing his lips. “This is my command, my battlefield. You and yours are an asset. I am not going to have command and control issues when we are so short of men and material at present.”

“General…” RT began softly, “…perhaps this is something we should speak about off-line.” Trying to save the General’s face, RT was wanting to avoid disagreements in front of all the assembled officers of his various commands. Crachek was not known for that kind of candor.

“No. I’ve made my final decision General. After you have briefed your men and assembled the team, you will have them transferred to my command for the duration of the operation.” Not letting up, RT was running out of options. Glancing at his chrono, he realized the clock was already ticking.

“Fine.” RT came to a rigid position of attention. “I must inform the General that Special Operations falls under the Command of the Director for Galactic Intelligence. I…do not answer to you. Only to him. And your request to have this target eliminated by Special Operations makes this MY battlefield, at least until this attack is over…” Standing up next to him, Cora walked the few steps to their side of the holo-map jabbing a hand holding a datapad toward General Crachek. It wasn’t the first time something like that happened and Cora was already ready. RT continued to speak as Cora handed the General a reference. “Republic Military Code: Delta-Two Paragraph Nine through Seven. The Director of Intelligence is hereby directed, at his or her discretion to conduct operations separate from major commands as he or she….or their representative deem fit. For all intents and purposes, I am that representative at the moment….”

“Yo-You can’t do that!” General Crachek stammered.

“It’s done. Feel free to contact the Director at your leisure once the communications blackout has been lifted. Of course…by then, all of this will be over. I will, out of respect for you, leave you to your own devices. I have no plans or inclination to lead your Army group. As I said, I only want to lead the attack on this target personally. All other commands and personnel are yours to continue doing with as you see fit as long as they do not interfere with my operation.” RT looked at Murriel giving a pained expression. Doing that in front of other officers was not something he relished. And Crachek, as pompous and arrogant as he was, happened to be a very good officer and brilliant land commander. “Colonel La’chance…I will need you to coordinate with Major General Crachek’s Operations Officer. You will be planning a diversionary attack on the main entryway of the Imperial target, requiring the General’s assets.” RT hesitated before looking at Cora, trying to stifle a smile at the look she was giving him. Though RT didn't relish embarrassing General Crachek he could see that Cora didn't feel the same way. “Captain Barku…plan for an underwater assault. Level five contamination protocols. You will need at least five Soldiers rated on that equipment and capable of infiltration from submersive environment.” Noticing General Crachek hadn’t left yet, RT looked up. “I’m sorry, Sir…is there anything else?”

“This will be in my report.” Crachek snatched up his flimsies and walked out. A trail of junior and senior officers following close behind. They all watched them leave. A collective sigh going out among the three of them. Tension released, Cora turned and sat down on the edge of the holo-map table looking up at RT. A strange seductively wicked smile creeping across her face.

“That’s a serious turn-on, ‘General’. I love it when you take charge…you have no idea how sexy that is.”

Slinking in, RT grabbed Cora's hand before she could touch him, also giving a cursory glance toward Murriel. A malicious move on Cora's part. She was doing all of it more for Murriel's benefit than RT.

"Later." RT whispered, even though he didn't have to. It was only the three of them left in the Operations center. "I have some planning to do, I will let you both know when I have the entire OPORD together."

They watched him leave, Murriel giving an evil smirk once Cora's more satisfied expression reached her. "You know..." Murriel began, "...this all so totally beneath you. I...don't get jealous. I'm happy the two of you are back together. Even if you have to hide this whole thing from the rest of the Republic Military, your secret is safe with me." Murriel turned to leave after chiding, the wicked smirk still on her face.

"Murriel..." Cora called out, making the Zeltron turn. "...just because I didn't kill you doesn't mean I've forgotten. And I know, you're lying. It's what you do." Cora approached and cocked a hip out, pointing at Murriel. "Don't even think it. That man is off limits, do you understand? You even go near him--"

"Are you threatening me, 'Captain'?" Murriel laughed slightly and turned to continue leaving. Using rank was just a ruse, both knew the other didn't care. They both knew each other too well. But the tension between them was still very real as far as RT was concerned. Eventually, something would have to give.

--

- Imperial Command Module, Bothawui....

Malgus walked from the edge of the battlefield toward his frontline command module and stopped once the high-pitched whine of a lowering ramp signaled, they were opening up the container for him. Things had gone well on Bothawui. Even with his necessary trips to and from Dromand Kaas, his Soldiers; the Empire’s Soldiers, had proven their worth. More importantly, they had proven that his presence alone was not a requirement for victory.

Things had gone from bad to worse for the Republic. Bothawui, exchanged hands one too many times over the course of two previous wars. Once a large Imperial industrial and manufacturing center, then over to the Republic after the first war only to fall into the hands of the Eternal Empire during their reign. Now, Bothawui was an even more important industrial prize due to the Eternal Empire’s upgrades to the war machines manufacturing process. The massive artillery emplacement constructed by the Eternal Empire to defend the industrial side of the planet was an unseen advantage for the Imperials, who got to Bothawui first.

Tracking the incoming Republic fleet, it was only a matter of time before the battle was rejoined. And only if, the Republic was prepared to experience the full effect of the massive gun’s firepower. Malgus was considering an attack against the remainder of the Republic forces before they could be reinforced, but in his army’s present condition, he didn’t see an attack as worthy enough to drive the Republic back into space or better, oblivion. Previous Republic landings avoided the gun by landing on the far side of the planet. It was a battle of attrition, the Republic fighting all the way to the objective and both Imperial and Republic assets trickling away as they reached the forward battlelines. General Crachek had no choice. He would have to risk the landing right on top of Malgus if he had any hope of retaking the Industrial centers and destroying the Imperial Army once and for all.

Going back to the command module was not about any of that, however. All of that would come in the next half day. For the moment, Malgus had an appointment to keep and more machinations to continue weaving. All of it, for the good of the Empire.

“Leave” Malgus commanded once he entered the module on his way to the communications suite. “Ensure the door to the module is secure and guard the entrance until I see fit to come out.” The technicians and officers left with a quickness once Malgus spoke and continued on to the comm unit. Looking at the holo-pad he gestured toward the wall. A lever pulled magically in the Force and with a slight finger movement lights dimmed once the unit powered up. Leaving only a blue glowing field hovering over the transmission pad.

Stepping in, Malgus placed his hands on his hips and looked straight ahead. On the other end, it would give the receiver the impression that he was looking straight at them and for the first time he was actually going to see her. This would be their first live transmission between each other as opposed to voice only or a recorded message. In front of him, another holo-field activated on the far wall. It sputtered and fizzed until it started to form a flat blue image of a figure kneeling, head down. ‘Right on time’, Malgus thought as he looked down at the image on the wall. “You may rise, Colonel Rickter…”

--

- Several hundred Light Years Away, 'The End'....

The voice was distorted by the distance of the transmission and the millions of filters it had to go through to reach her. But when Talia finally looked up, she saw the live image of the one she had been communicating with through only recordings and voice. For some reason he looked even more imposing live than he did on a holo-record. It was also because Malgus was purposefully projecting himself in his full form. It towered over Talia as she looked up at him.

“My Lord…it is an honor to finally speak to you in person. I have been looking forward to this.”

Malgus’ eyes widened, his head bowing slightly as he glared at the Colonel. Talia knew what Darth Malgus was referring to, she wasted no time reporting.

“My Lord…the execution has been halted. But it is only a stay, to do more would rouse suspicion as to my role in—”

“But, My Lord….forgive me…how do we know she HAS a plan? I have not spoken with her, much less seen her. In trying to maintain my cover, I have maintained a safe distance.”

Talia swallowed hard again and looked away. Malgus could tell he was not going to like what she was about to say. “My Lord….I must report, there was an incident. I failed to report it in my last transmission due to gathering more information.” When Malgus didn’t ask, expecting the Colonel to continue, Talia spoke quickly. “Darth Retuvisa attacked and killed several guards, it was the excuse I used to bring myself here. But then she attacked the Warden. Rumor has it, he has placed a bounty on her with both guard and inmate alike. I have trusted personnel Lord Malgus, but I don’t have the numbers to fight a war in this prison. And I’m not able to watch her twenty eight – nine.”

At first, Malgus appeared annoyed, looking up and away before looking back down. But the creases near his eyes denoted laughter, though he did not voice it through his mask. Looking down in the image, Malgus quickly looked back up as the terminal on Talia’s side chimed.

“Vault section? My Lord….there is no—”

“What is in this vault, if I may ask, My Lord….”

Talia looked at the code, it was a series of very complex Sith Hieroglyphs; ending with one very large code identifier that was ancient enough Talia could not read it. Malgus stood up a bit taller and glared down at the Colonel, who took the cue to take a knee once again.

“For the Empire, My Lord….”

--

- Galactic City, Coruscant....

We have the final planetside tally here for those of you watching from home. Master Karolin Alexandra De’nabre has become Senator Elect for the provisional Republic planet of Mirial by a ninety-nine percent carry across all of Mirial’s nineteen provinces and continental electors. I repeat Master De’nabre has won the seat for Senate for Mirial. This is a tremendous victory for both Master De’nabre and the traditionalist party she represents. We go now live to election central…where we await the Senator Elect to give a few words…>

--

- Private Congressional Lounge, Galactic City, Coruscant.....

“This is an unmitigated disaster.” One of the Delegates from a binary star system near Commenor stood and walked to the minibar near the plush chair; sitting away from the center holo-projector the others were watching. There was fewer of them now, fewer that felt the political process was so corrupt something needed to be done. Fewer that decided a long time ago, the Constitution of the Republic no longer served their best interest and had to take matters into their own hands. In their current state, it was very much like when they all originally started; a conglomerate of like minded businessmen, politicians, people of influence. Later, they became an ‘Organization’.

They all hated Karolin long before she entered the political spotlight. When she was merely one of the tools the system used to implement the will they all despised. It was ‘them’ that nearly had Karolin put away for good back in the old days. It was them that almost had the ultimate weapon in V’ictoria’s ‘Force Serum’. Not once, but nearly twice. And it was them that accidentally unleashed ‘Inferno’ against an oblivious galaxy. Karolin represented everything they hated about the system, the same system they all served. And now, she was among them.

They needed to reform and reorganize. Come back stronger, bolder. They all knew it, that collection of politicians that refused to bend to the will of the People they all served. The delegate who spoke was pouring a drink, looking back at the others who were still watching. He angled the glass toward them all and spoke up again. “This is a total loss. How will we even maneuver with one of them right at our doorstep?”

“Calm yourself.” Another spoke up. The delegate from the Consolidated Trade Federation, a business organization that formed as its own galactic entity which was part of the Republic. A business with galactic and planetary influence. “...we still have several galactic holdings; Czerka is still in play and the scientific wing—”

“--Is completely destroyed. Not to mention our executive wing.” The original delegate who complained, exclaimed once again gesturing with his glass. “In fact, we are the strongest wing. This is exactly like it was in the beginning, just a collection of disgruntled politicians who sit around and complain. Once again constrained by the system they all despise.”

“And from that…” A third delegate from the Volcanic world of Asher stood and waved the first delegate off. “…we created a vast organization that nearly changed the face of the galaxy. We did it once, we can do it again. The revolution is not dead, merely defeated at the moment. We will rise again.”

“We need leadership, someone on the outside who can organize without the oversight of the Senate and the House.” The second delegate from the Trade Federation joined the first at the bar, pouring himself a drink.

“Might I offer a suggestion…” A fourth delegate from Corellia stood and gestured at the other three. “…we have the remnants of the final solution still in our possession." Looking back at the screen and the largely projected face of a smiling Karolin De’nabre. “And it is one who is very close to her. I say, we give him oversight. What other option do we have, he’s a proven leader…he has personnel and technological assets we do not possess.”

“At least until the ‘Doctor’ comes out of the tank.” And a fifth delegate from a member world of the Voss delegation stood and spoke to his companions. “The prophets see no further use for Mirial. But Mirial’s assets are most definitely in the galaxies future. Though it is unclear if it is Karolin…or Telan’dorr De’nabre the prophets see.”

--

Derelict Relay Station, Near a black hole on the edge of Core Space....

“Yes…I understand. And thank you, thank you all for your support and confidence. I promise on the blood of the ancestors, you will not be disappointed.”

Telan’dorr set the holo unit down after the call ended. As always, it was encrypted and voice only. Like in the beginning, even the members of the group never knew how many were a part. Spreading his hands out on the surface of the desk, Telan’dorr smiled. Chief Executive, not an honor he expected. But he knew he was more than prepared to assume the role if called upon.

His release was originally part of a final solution. The part of the Organization's plan to implement the Generational Mirialan technology to effect occupation of nearby star systems by dropping personnel into key locations of distant worlds. A very hostile takeover of those the Organization knew would never turn from their Republic, no matter how corrupt and dysfunctional the system was. That plan failed, only because their former leader became overzealous. Played his hand far too soon and underestimated the tenacity and cunning of one of the Republic’s primary weapons: The Alpha Legacy, in particular Karolin De’nabre.

Being pushed back down to small time was slightly hard for the Organization to swallow. They still had some slicer cards at the Sabacc table, but nothing serious. Telan'dorr's release came too late. Major board members were either underground, retired or dead. And the scientific expert needed to put the Generational's technology back in working order was floating in a bacta tank. His replacement, unreachable. Dr. V'ictoria Alpha was singlehandedly responsible for exposing all of the Politicians, Scientists and CEOs which made up the Organizations governing board. That name, attached to her already royal title and scientific acumen was enough to secure her own safety. They were an entity drifting without a rudder. What they needed was capital to get started. Telan'dorr was already looking for ideas.

“Allies” Telan'dorr spoke offhandedly. “Allies to initiate our plans.” Aurora turned back toward her father, annoyed and not truly listening. Of the two of them, it was clear Aurora held the power. But he wasn’t wrong. One thing she lacked, her father had, was a more devious strategic mind. “With Mrysti gone…we have the opportunity to seek out and locate our missing technology. But we need manpower, capital to fund it and speed up the good Doctor’s recovery.”

Looking up, he smiled at a very reluctant Aurora De’nabre.

“My dear…you and I are now in a position to get everything we want. And eventually, we will go…home.”

--

- Capital Unity, Mirial - The Temple of the Sacred Heart....

“You had no right to do that Father.” Sam moved toward him, pushing her older sister aside. “She’s not dead. WE…” Sam gestured at herself and then Grace. “…would have felt it.” The Temple of the Sacred Heart glowed with a warm orange. The winter solstice was coming. And that meant Life Day, the galactic wide celebration of giving and thanks. Hardly the time for familiar strife and the kind of conversation being had in the heart of Mirial’s most sacred Temple.

Caleb wasn’t OF the Unity, but the decision was big enough and serious enough that he felt compelled to visit the Temple and ‘pray’ in his own way. The decision to do what he did was not an easy one to reach, but it had been a year. They all needed to move on. The girls understood their father’s reasoning, but they thought it was more his own reason for moving on than it was for the good of the family. Mirial was already beginning the month-long celebratory build up, the orange light and warmth reflecting all of it. Sam was not in a giving mood. Not since Caleb saw fit to shut down the manor house and shutter up the facilities that surrounded them.

“What Sam is trying to say…” Grace spoke more delicately giving her sister a shameful look. “…we feel, we should have been consulted. At the very least Father, the decision was not yours to make. It should have fallen to Karolin; perhaps even….us.” Sam finished speaking shyly, almost making the statement as a question since no one knew who was going to be in charge of the family assets.

“You are both wrong.” Caleb clasped his hands behind his back. Turning around to look at both his children in that fatherly way, the way he still saw them even as young ladies; children. Caleb’s stare was almost serene with a hint of the condescending. “There are many things you are unaware of. The manor house and ancient lands were reconstituted and constructed by your Mother’s Will alone. At the time, your Aunt Karolin was incapable of managing the family assets, to include the family buildings and their lands.” Caleb pulled out a datapad and handed it to Grace, Sam was a bit miffed he didn’t hand it to her or even attempt to. “In the event of death or incapacitation, your Mother named the only stable uncompromising person she could think of to manage the assets.”

“YOU?!?!” Sam almost yelled, “…you have to be joking. After what you just did?!?!”

“Sam” Grace said scolding, before looking down at the datapad.

“No really.” Sam stepped forward jabbing a finger out at her father. “You left Mother, ran off with that floozy that’s what—half your age? But I get it, you can’t have one so you go for another right?!?! One De’nabre is as good as another, is that it?!?!”

“Samantha, I will not be spoken to like that. You need to know your place.” Caleb spoke calmly. Grace continued to read allowing the two to argue.

“I’m not your Padawan. I’m not even sure I’m your daughter.” That brought Grace’s head back up.

“SAM!”

“I’m serious, Grace. I’ve had enough of this!! First he runs off with Iseult, then he shutters the family manor and turns all of the property over to the Republic?!?! I mean…what gall. You’re an asshole.”

“SAM!!”

Caleb said nothing else turning back to the window as Sam and Grace continued to argue. Bowing his head slightly, he closed his eyes and let out a calming breath. “I did, what I felt was best in light of the recent turmoil surrounding our family estate, the Civil War…and your mother’s…disappearance. There are technologies and systems that need to be under constant care within the walls of the Manor. Things that need to be secured. I am unable to do it, Karolin cannot be there in her current capacity. And the two of you…” Caleb turned around and forced a smile. “…I love the both of you. But you are both unable or incapable of making the right decision regarding the state of affairs. This needs to be governed by a logical mind, not emotional.”

“Emotional?!?! EMOTIONAL!!! You want emotional, I’ll give you emotional…” Sam started toward him as Grace reached out to push her back with a hand, holding the datapad toward her father with the other. The calm demeanor Grace had was already melting away.

“Father, I am loathed to speak the words that I need to convey, but this needs to be said. Both Sam and I are the Named of Mirial. The Sword and the Paladin of the Faith. AN entire Faith of a people rests on us. And for you to assume that neither one of us are capable of—”

“You read your Mother’s Will.” Caleb gestured at the datapad. “This was her wish. That I, someone she trusted to be not only outside, but also objective in my decisions; be the one to decide what should take place. She knew, as I did, that should anything befall either she or Karolin, that something would have to be done to secure things that no one should have access to. And that includes information pertaining to your Mother and Aunt’s creation.”

“She wrote that when they built the place!!” Sam spat out again. “Mother would never have left you in charge had she rewritten it after you started kriffin’ Iseult!!”

“SAM!!! This is the Unity’s House…”

“I’m sorry Grace, but this needs to be said. We been tiptoeing around the fact that Dad completely went off the rails when he took Iseult under his wing. Now this. I knew if we let all of this go on, something like this was going to happen. I told you it would.”

“I have made my decision.” Caleb spoke softly again. “The Republic will be caretakers of the estate. I have already received your Aunt's approval. In her capacity as Senator for Mirial, she will have oversight as to where the technology and the assets are being held.”

“You know what…” Sam turned and waved off her Father with a sharp arm snap. “…whatever ‘Pops’, you do whatever it is you want to do. I’m going to Coruscant to talk with Karolin….” Grace turned after handing the datapad back to her father, following her sister out of the Temple.

--

--

Galactic Senate Plaza, Office of the Senator from Mirial....

“You come highly recommended Mr….?”

“Gent, Ma’am. Seymour Gent.” The human smiled a bright toothy grin. Karolin thought for a moment; his teeth looked almost unnaturally white. He was a handsome man, almost too handsome in a very false way. Perfect as politician fodder on Senatorial Hill. Someone sent him.

“Well….Mr. Gent, you are more than qualified for the job. I see here that you were the aide to Geln Alde of Alderaan. Two tours of duty in the liaison offices. Senate page…” Karolin lost her own smile and slapped the datapad containing the man’s qualifications down. She had a lobby of hopefuls to go through before the day was out and had no time for political operatives. The Force was telling her as much, but she didn’t need it to see the man was far too good to be true.

Even before she became Senator Elect, Karolin was receiving daily intel reports both official and some ‘not-so-official’ from her own sources. Namely, Jes and some of her other close personal allies. There was a coalition of Senators forming against her, all for various reasons. But they all shared one thing in common: Karolin’s popularity and forcefulness threatened to upset the balance. She hadn’t been approached, but they all knew she would NOT play the game. This was the first stage in a series of attacks. Getting an operative on the inside. Karolin smiled regularly again as Jes walked in the room from a door which sat behind her. Looming over the Karolin's shoulder, Jes flashed a glare at the rather dashing young man before looking down at her Master to whisper something.

“I’m sorry, Senator…if I’ve come at a bad time—”

“No, not at all. You see how many are out in that foyer? I have to do all of this today, assemble my staff, get my office ready to run. As you’re probably aware, I ran this race pretty much on my own. No campaign manager, no election staff. We Mirialans have a way of campaigning that is unlike anyone else.”

“Oh of course, Senator. I mean it’s not like you were running for an Office here in the Republic. You’re a representative of a member world. That’s why I think I would be an asset to your tenure here in the capital.”

“Oh?” Karolin formed a Nexu grin as she sat back in her chair. The guy was trying too hard, taking the rope and running with it. Karolin was ready to form the noose. “Do tell, Mr. Gent…how you could be...ever so helpful in navigating these treacherous waters.”

“It is…” Gent started, “…treacherous, that is. I have been around politics almost my entire adult life and I can tell you—”

“—exactly how long is that?”

“Excuse me?”

“Your adult life. You look no more than twenty-five.”

Gent swallowed hard. Perhaps sensing that Karolin was leading him down a path and the noose tightening around his neck. Jes moved from behind Karolin to stand between the two of them, leaning on the side of the desk to glare down at the young man. “We-Well, that’s true…and completely accurate. Very uncanny, you picked my age exactly.” He looked at Jes then Karolin incredulously. Jes was a very large, very imposing Echani woman. Tragically beautiful, she still wore the clothes of her tribal upbringing under the cloak she kept wrapped around her neck. The cloak, more of a symbol of her new Jedi heritage and her station within the Order. The tribal clothing, not only to honor her own ancestors and family, but to also strike a strange fear in those who gazed at how much it revealed of the tight muscular physique. It didn't help that Jes had a stare that could stop a speeder. Steel cold blue eyes and hair that was almost as white as her skin. “You truly live up to the Jedi mantra. Which in itself will create problems if you don’t have someone seasoned enough to deflect and—”

Sitting up, Karolin dropped the leg that was crossed and slapped the datapad back down in front of her again. Tapping the surface in thought as she gazed at the man. Slowly she turned the screen so Gent could see. On it, an entire dossier of his activities as well as a detailed background of who he was. The man’s eyebrow went up as he swallowed again. Karolin was much savvier than he been led to believe.

“Now, Mr. Gent…would you like to start over and tell me who you are working for? Or would you like to continue this charade?”

Dropping his head, Gent looked down and smiled to himself. Murmuring, he shook his head from side to side. “This was supposed to be simple, in and out…copy some files, get something incriminating.....” He looked up and lost the smile. “I take it I’m not going to get the job.” He laughed, pushing up to get out of his seat and leave. He felt the lightning quick hand of Jes grab his shoulder, shoving him back down in the chair. “Now-now….wait a minute. I don’t have to say anything…and if you use any of that Jedi mumbo-jumbo on me—”

“Shut up, Mr. Gent…and listen.” Standing, Karolin gracefully made her way to the window and looked out. Coruscant was going about its normal routine. Skylanes passed with an almost uncountable number of speeders passing by. She turned and looked at the now frightened man, who was giving Jes a look of helplessness. “Someone sent you here. Now, I could press you and find out who or whom they are. But I’m not going to do that. I hope in time, you will tell me just because I have earned that trust.”

A confusion passed over Gent as he looked at Karolin then Jes and then back to Karolin. “I-I don’t understand…”

“For someone who is so 'savvy' in the way of politics, you certainly are slow on the uptake. I’m giving you the job, Mr. Gent. Aide to the Senator from Mirial…my VERY personal aide.” Karolin smiled and gestured to Jes. “Serving alongside my apprentice of course…well..." Karolin paused and gave Jes a warm smile. The Jedi Knight looked over to her Master and nodded, but didn't return the smile. "....she's not so much my apprentice anymore, she is a Jedi Knight. But Jes-“ Karolin smiled again. “--Jes…looks out for me. Kind of like a Wookie’s Life Debt.”

--

After Gent left and Jes dismissed the rest of the candidates she reentered the office to find Karolin staring out of the window. Karolin turned suddenly after being lost in thought and smiled.

“…I am past questioning the wisdom of some of your decisions, Master.” Jes sat down and continued to stare at Karolin. The Mirialan making her way back to her desk and sitting down.

“Keep your friends close and your enemies closer.” Steepling her fingers Karolin leaned forward. “What do we know?”

Taking out the datapad, Jes punched up the data from the reports she was sent to compile. There was a grim expression as she began to recount the contents. “He is definitely an operative for one of three different Senators, one of them having ties to the Organizations former scientific board.”

“Send that to V’ictoria, let her track that down.” Karolin waved it off “Next…any word from my brother?” Jes assumed that Karolin was referring to RT and not Marstel, who Jes didn’t know anything about anyway. It wasn’t what she was sent to find out. When Karolin referred to Marstel, she always addressed him by name; never ‘my brother’. RT was always…’my brother’.

“Yes.” Jes ran a finger down the pad turning the page. “His operation was a success and…there is an added bonus.” Karolin’s eyebrow went up, but before she could ask, Jes killed any optimism Karolin had. “Cypher managed to break into the Imperial database on Bothawui during the assault. We have Darth Malgus’ personal correspondence.” That made Karolin sit up, even without knowing where Jes was going with the information. “RT is sending the contents to us before he turns it over to the Republic, but…he said something about a facility and…Mrysti.”

--

Tatooine, Mos Espa Landing Site….

No one questioned. The dark figure got out of the speeder and started a long slow walk toward the entrance of Mos Espa. Even the guards snapped to attention. One of them noticing the lightsaber hilts under the robe of the dark, masked figure. But Aurora was not a Sith, she merely looked like one and it was not on purpose. Choosing the mask not only for its utilitarian qualities of filtering out the dust of Tatooine, it made Aurora look imposing. Even with the lock of brilliant blonde hair that ran down the side of her shoulder from under the hood she had pulled over her head.

Continuing her walk, she got looks. Mostly from those who were natives to the planet and working for or with the Empire. The most scrutinizing looks came from the few Sith who were there, but all of them far too busy with their own affairs to pay her any mind. The Sith Order, like the Jedi were decimated during the War with the Eternal Empire, but there were still enough of them out in the galaxy that it was not uncommon for Sith not to know one another.

Aurora stopped at the entrance to the Cantina and looked up, reading the sign. What a crude and ugly language Aurebesh was. And it was everywhere, created by the Core Worlds. ‘This is why the Sith will lose this war’ she thought. Even the language was created by the Republic. And the Sith were using it. Aurora still had no love for the Republic, not that she liked the Sith Empire any better. But it was the Republic that emerged the beneficiaries of the victory on Mirial. And it was Republic influence that had her exiled. It didn’t matter, Aurora had been back to Mirial twice since then, in disguise. Once to recon the old De’nabre homestead. The other, to break her father out of the De’nabre dungeon.

And it still bothered her that those who were once allies, suddenly became traitors to the cause so quickly. How long had Aurora, the former First Captain of the Generationals, been the leader of the various families and served alongside all of the other ruling houses? All of them, the officers and leadership of the Generational Mirialans grew up together. They were more than just fellow officers, she considered them family. At least, she once did.

That Oracle could do such a thing. Oppose the family, oppose her. The two went to the same schools, played together, emerged as leadership on the ship together. They were closer than siblings at one time. Aurora made a face under the mask. Oracle, shacking up with one of the offworlders. Not even a normal offworlder or a puppet of the Republic, but a Mandalorian. Those unique super-soldiers which were no more than a loose tribe of mercenaries; whose only purpose as far as Aurora could tell was to sew discord and create war where ever they went.

Though Aurora hated Oracle, there was still a part that wished her no ill will. After helping her father escape, Aurora did her best to check up on Oracle after the attack. If only to ensure that she was not killed trying to stop Telan’dorr’s escape. They would be enemies now and forever after that day. Oracle would never forgive Aurora for what she did or the injury she inflicted upon her. It was a road Aurora was already traveling on; nothing new. As time went on, Aurora almost expected that everything she had come to hold dear throughout her life would simply melt away. And it had everything to do with her father. Oh, how she wished she could simply kill him.

But she needed him at the moment. If for no other reason than to secure her own future. Entering the Cantina, Aurora looked around. It was the usual assortment of aliens and Imperials all carousing together. She turned her head slowly scanning the area until she spotted the one she was supposed to meet. Sitting in a darkened corner alone. The trip to Tatooine was twofold, meet the ally her father had sent her to recruit and take care of some family business. The latter being something of her own design. Even with the continued bleeding of old friends and associates melting away, Aurora still had the need to hold on to something. More than that, she needed to believe that there was hope in her past. Approaching the table, she sat down. The other looked up startled, staring at the face of the masked figure. But, seeing the golden blonde hair trickling down the shoulder, the other softened.

“That mask doesn’t become you…” Iseult smiled. Aurora sneered under the mask. Reaching up to unhook and detach it. She set it down in front of her and gazed at her sister.

“Better?”

“Much.” Iseult said softly. Even the dark sister’s voice had changed to match her eyes. Now a soft blue, much like Aurora’s. Iseult smiled, it almost startled Aurora to see it. That had changed as well. Gone was the sinister grin Aurora was so used to from her sister, replaced by a light friendly and even warm smile. Iseult still had the hair Aurora remembered, but there was a streak of bright blonde down one side, which Iseult brushed behind her ear as she looked away shyly. The two had not seen one another since the war, but Aurora had kept track. And she was not pleased with Iseult at all.

“You asked to see me, here I am.” Aurora spoke suddenly, sitting back and taking out a cigarra. Lighting it up with a snap of a finger and spark of lightning from the tip. Iseult lost the smile, cocking her head to look at her sister strangely.

“Smoking? Really?”

"Oh, I have taken on a whole slew of new indulgences. Some even worse than this." Aurora smiled wickedly. "As you have, I'm sure you and the Jedi have been 'indulging' yourselves quite often. But, I didn’t come here to be lectured. Things change Iseult. You certainly have.”

“So, have you.” Iseult frowned and looked down again disregarding the jab at her relationship with Caleb. “I wanted to—” She shook her head and scoffed. All of it suddenly seemed like a dreadful mistake. Asking Aurora to meet her, contacting her sister in secret. Iseult was already feeling guilty for having to lie to Caleb. But she would ask for forgiveness. She always asked for forgiveness for everything she did, it was the way in the Unity. “—this was stupid, I should just go.” Iseult started to get up as Aurora reached over and grabbed her wrist. The two stared at one another frozen for a moment.

“I have father. It’s not too late. You and I, we can still have everything we want. I know what he did to you, I know that deep down…even without the curse present, you can still feel all of that. And I know that somewhere in the places that Jedi hasn’t reached..there is a part of you that wants father dead as much as I do.”

Jerking her hand out of Aurora’s, Iseult sneered. “Don’t talk about Caleb like that.” She snapped back, glaring at her sister. “You have no idea what he’s done for me, how he’s shown me the true nature of the light. I came here to try and bring you some of that. I was going to say the same thing to you. That’s it’s not too late. If you repent, ask the Unity for forgiveness and talk to Grace…”

“Grace…HA!!!” Aurora sat back and laughed. “Is that what’s she’s calling herself now?!?! She’s no ‘Grace’ at least not of the Unity. And the Unity holds no truth for me anymore, sister. My truth is here…” Aurora touched her lightsaber. “And here…” She poked her head. “If you had done more than simply spread your legs for that Jedi…”

Iseult’s jaw flexed as she looked away. “I will forgive you for that, Aurora. Only because I know you are compromised. I had nothing to do with your exile and I certainly did not want anything to come between us. But you’ve forced the issue, opposing them…breaking father out of confinement. Hurting Oracle…Aurora, how could you?!?!”

“Very easily.” Aurora stood up, stubbing the cigarra out on the table. She picked up the mask. “If I were you, Iseult…” Pulling back the hood, Aurora placed the mask back on her head. The voice that came out of the darkness of the mask was not Aurora, it was something much more menacing. “…I would hope that you and I don’t cross paths again. There will be much less talking…”

--

Main Laundry Facility, ‘The End’….

Still mulling over the offer from Cornelia and Mrysti, Canton still hadn’t decided to join the two yet. The Mandalorian side of him had long since contemplated escape, fashioned a plan and even constructed some items to do the job should the need to leave arrive. Cornelia wasn’t wrong. Canton knew what he was doing with tech, it also didn’t hurt that he knew as much about using it as he did about constructing it.

Days had already passed since the offer. They couldn’t avoid one another being in the same cellblock, they all three exchanged looks, but the offer from Mrysti didn’t come up again. Not even when they were close to one another in the chow line or in line for a work detail. They actually exchanged very few words. Canton, still angry at the both of them for exposing him so publicly. The calm and stability Canton claimed to crave was restored for the moment with the killing of the two guards and Mrysti’s assault on the Warden. All of that made it back to the cellblocks in record time. The communication system in prison was extremely fast and accurate. And the prison communication system as rudimentary as it was often rivaled any holo-net.

A strange calm had fallen over the prison with the arrival of the High Colonel. She visited rarely. The prison was just another stop in her sector responsibilities. But the fact that she was hanging around this time cast a strange pallor over the entire prison. Even with the calm, a thin veneer of restlessness was stirring among the inmates and the guards. A tenseness that no one could quite lay a finger on.

Word had reached the block that Mrysti was designated for termination by order of the Warden, but that the High Colonel had placed a hold on that while she looked into the matter. Any other prisoner would have been on edge or even back in the hole. But not Mrysti, she looked calm walking around. Like none of it had happened. But Canton knew, she was calm because no matter what the Warden or the guards did, she had no plans to be there very much longer.

What she knew and none of the others did, they all had grossly underestimated her strength. Sure, they had put her down when she intervened and rescued Cornelia. But that was only because as caught up in the moment as she was, Mrysti had a flashback of a similar event. The prison, being in captivity was playing havoc with Mrysti's post-traumatic stress. Which the warrior typically kept under control, but bars, chains, rapes and the screams. It all was clearly working on her. She defeated herself. Had she been thinking clearly, no one could have stopped her. And that was a fact that not even the Warden was aware of. How could he be? No one had access to those files which contained Mrysti’s mysterious origin. Who she was and what made her up at the core. Had they known they would have thrown her into the deepest darkest hole and never let her see light again. Advantage, Mrysti.

Though Canton hadn’t made his decision he was still considering it. He needed time to think, work helped with that and the AI never denied a request from an inmate with a good behavior record a request for more work. There was never any shortage of things that needed to be done in the laundry. One part of the facility that ran Twenty-Eight – Nine, galactic standard. Folding clothes, he contemplated, stewed over the audacity of the two women to approach him like that.

And Cornelia, she knew better. Canton told her long ago when the two of them first got started that nothing he was capable of or that he was doing was ever to be discussed in public. To do so risked exposing any plans he was making. Secrets in prison were always hard to keep, even more so because people like to talk and they had nothing better to do than watch one another and keep the rumor mill running. Canyon didn’t do much of that, not since Cornelia. He never got close to anyone like he got to her. Already identified as a high risk because of being a Mandalorian, the less attention he brought to himself the better.

Cornelia. The thought made him nearly crack a smile. The corner of his lip twitched. But he went back to work, forcing himself not to think about her. Deep down, Canton thought of her as family and cursed himself for the many times he had done nothing when the guards and the Captain came calling. Allowing those other ‘trustees’ entrance into her cell so they could have their way with her. 'Allowed'. It was such a strong word. he did blame himself, right up till the moment Cornelia broke things off with him.

It happened after a particularly brutal visit from the Captain and his goon squad. Canton grabbed the bars of the porthole in the door, propped his feet on the door and pulled with all his strength. Even bending the bars slightly to get out. Screaming the entire time, goading, yelling curses in Mando'a. Anything to get them to stop assaulting Cornelia and come see about him. The guards did come. Not the goons in the cell, but the armored ones. The ones who escorted the Captain and the squad to Cornelia's cell. He fought as hard as he could, even taking one of the three guards out and putting up enough of a fight that they called in for backup. They beat him nearly to death. And when Cornelia saw him the next day, instead of going to him and comforting him or seeing how badly they had beaten him on her behalf; she turned away. Shortly after, she broke things off with him.

Canton looked up suddenly. His thoughts going back to the conversation about him joining the plan. How angry Cornelia got when he mentioned her willingness to—his jaw dropped. ‘Bitch’ he whispered to himself. Manipulated by a Sith. How could he have been so blind? He knew the answer to that one. Blinded by his feelings for the very individual who purposefully spurned him in order to—‘Bitch’, Canton whispered to himself again. Cornelia knew Canton better than anyone. And she did all of it so long ago, breaking it off with him to spare his honor. Purposefully making him angry enough to think that she wanted the ‘visits’ from the Captain and his goon squad. Canton thought Cornelia was a willing participant because she manipulated him into thinking it.

Dropping the sheet he was folding on the table, Canton looked down driving his fist hard into the metal surface. On some level he was grateful. Cornelia did it all for him, knowing he would have killed himself and had almost succeeded; in trying to stop them all. They were that in love at one time. But on another level, all of that original anger was coming back. How many times had they raped her, dozens…uncountable times. Canton grit his teeth as voices from the other side of the partition started talking. ‘Trustees’. Canton started folding again, trying to set his mind back on the task at hand and making a decision. Knowing he would have to confront Cornelia and somehow question if that was her plan all along, spurn him in order to save him. That kind of sacrifice, the kind Cornelia had made for him. That was love.

“…she was sweet…till that big green bitch from next door came across….”

“Oh, kriff her man, Warden and the Cap got plans for her…”

Canton leaned to the side listening through the partition. The voice, familiar. They were trustees, but very familiar trustees. Then the third voice spoke and he knew exactly who they were. Part of the Captain’s goon squad.

“Yea, well I got plans for more of that sweet Sith ass…you see how fine that bitch is?!?! I ain’t never had a bitch that fine. I get her cummin’ all over my cock everytime…and lets be honest, when are you ever going to get one compliant? That collar is credits in the bank, dude...”

"You got that right..."

He heard them laughing and exchanging a slap of hands, congratulating each other for what they had done.

Canton grit his teeth. Inside, something snapped. All facial expression left as he placed the sheet down carefully moving away from the table. He rounded the corner and opened up an access panel, one he was familiar with. Part of his escape plan from long ago. Reaching in, he took out the crush gauntlet construct. It was extremely rudimentary, looking more like he had a load lifter strapped to his arm. Pieces of wood and nails made up the fist portion, but the electronics they were all assembled from scraps he found across the station. Long rods ran down the sides, connecting to a power cell and hydraulic oscillator. He strapped it on tightly. Turning on the power cell he heard it wind up and vibrate, holding it up in the light to give it a quick inspection.

Moving back to his table he rounded the partition on the other side.

--

“Dude, I’m telling you—”

BOOM.

The large red muscular Twi’lek who was only moment before bragging about his sexual acumen was suddenly hit by what felt like a runaway speeder. The big alien dropped like a sack of bricks, knocked completely out as Canton turned on the other two. The third thug closest to the door turned and ran away, not sure who or what had just put down a man of the Twi’lek’s size. He didn’t stay to find out.

“What tha’ kriff—”

Mohawk turned in time to see Canton vault the table between them. The ‘trustees’ were also folding clothes in one of the laundry facility’s sections. Something they did so they could talk and smoke. Anything to be away from their cells. And as ‘trustees’ they could get away with going anywhere they wanted until lockdown.

“Wait a minute—” Mohawk raised his hands up. “I know you, you’re that—”

Canton landed and swung the gauntlet with all of his might. The added power of the mechanism combined with a Mandalorian who worked out non-stop, even in the privacy of his own cell was insurance for the day when he would need to use that strength; hit the green Mohawk with enough force to penetrate a foot of reinforced duracrete. The blow that knocked out the Twi’lek was a glancing one. Canton was already analyzing the attack, he was rusty. Hitting the Twi’lek as the alien turned and he rounded the corner. It was a fraction of the power contained within the gauntlet and the man, compared to the full force of the gauntlet against a solid target.

The head cracked and then shattered as the hydraulics of the makeshift pummeler struck and then exacted additional force against the target with the squeeze of a palm control. Canton didn’t feel it through the construction of the gauntlet, but he heard it and once the gauntlet’s hydraulics kicked in a split second after the strike, he saw the red cloud and the spray in all directions. The remnants of the side of Mohawk’s head and lower jaw shattering and flew into the darkness of the room. A line of blood streaked itself across the clean white of the sheets. And Mohawk fell, almost as hard as the Twi’lek, not just out cold but near death. Head and face shattered beyond recognition.

Canton followed the body as it flew over the table landing on the other side near his red-skinned accomplice. All of the control gone, the attack would have been flawless, but once the Mohawk opened his mouth and spoke at the beginning; a strange thing happened. Canton became angry again. That voice, the same one he heard laughing down the halls on those long late nights. The same one that cried out in joy from Cornelia’s cell as he ravaged her again and again. All of that came back. Canton bent down and picked up what remained of the Mohawk by the shoulder and screamed, pulling his gauntleted fist back behind his shoulder.

Driving it forward again, and again…and again.

What was left when Canton finally stood, catching his breath, was a mess of fragmented bone and pulpy tissue. Only the sound of the dripping gore echoed off the end of the gauntlet as it hit the floor. Canton looked down at the mess he made. The corner of his mouth cracked in a slight smile. Revenge, it was a dish best served cold and in solitude. And it felt sweet. As if Cornelia was standing there, Canton nodded to himself and to her. Releasing the hand grip inside the gauntlet to drop it noisily to the floor.

“Yep…I’m in. I’m all the way in now, baby….”

--

The AI clicked on inside the cell block as Canton made his way up the stairs to his cell. Other inmates started coming to their doorways, to include Mrysti and Cornelia. When both of them saw Canton and the blood that stained the white of his prison garb, they looked at one another. Canton kept on moving, even as the AI continued.

It spoke in an even tone. Humming sounds of lowering turrets and opening portholes echoed throughout the block. The running feet of guards was close behind Canton as he turned and looked directly at Cornelia.

Once the guards reached him, one of them grabbed an arm. They started binding him, getting ready to take him away. Canton was smiling, looking right at Cornelia as she mouthed something toward him. Questioning, why? What did he do?!?! He didn’t understand, he couldn’t see though all of the blood which still ran down his face. But it didn’t matter. He knew she could see him smiling. The guards started to haul him away as Cornelia ran to the edge of the gangway to follow him. Still looking at up at her, Canton’s smile broadened. His head and his eyes never left her, even as he was hauled out and thrown into the lift.

Turning toward Mrysti, Cornelia looked down and placed a hand to her face. Canton had done something, he had finally done something that he wanted to do. It was the only explanation for the smile, the blood. Now, they would kill him. She looked up at her Master.

“Master, we have to get to him. I don’t know how, but we have to…”

--

--

- Zeltros Sector, Galactic War with the Eternal Empire....several Years prior....

“You need to get back down to engineering and get to—” The Captain stopped himself from saying it. After all, it wasn’t like he was talking to one of the many alien races they often ferried to Zeltros on the pleasure cruiser. Aurore was a fellow Zeltron. Even saying the word 'work' was forbidden. Some did more than others. Aurore, unusually smart, savvy, technically proficient; knew the difference. And she honestly didn’t care that the Captain used the word. What she cared about was his lack of attention to detail and failing to heed her warnings.

It was a busy time. Lots were 'fleeing' to Zeltros under the guise of vacationing. Alien visas were only valid for one hundred eighty days so the cruisers were working overtime taking people back to the Port of Departure; a nearby Moon. While taking people making it to the 'Port of Entry' to the same moon; back and forth to Zeltros. There were no extensions on the visas. Though once it ran out, if you left and came back a full day later, you could get a new fresh visa like you never left.

The only problem was leaving. Aliens had to be off the surface of Zeltros for a full day. Outer Space didn’t count. All had to return to the general port of entry, something the Zeltrons set up when the population started to boom with the threat of the Eternal Empire. And the cruisers, slow moving long range luxury liners were showing their wear. Mostly because they weren’t being used properly. Ships, like people, needed exercise. And the engines weren’t designed for those short burst and shut off in a quick half day turn around trips.

“I'm just letting you know. This is it. We will be lucky if we make it to the moon much less back home. The engines are stalling, there is only so much a large scale engine like this can take. They need to be up and running on full for a least a full day to—”

“Aurore…” The Captain ran his hand through his blue/black hair after taking off his hat; releasing a sigh. “…I understand your frustrations. But the company has ordered us to make these runs. Nothing long range is going out right now. All I’m asking, is for you to keep it running until I inform corporate of our situation.”

“Fine. Just know…” cocking a hip out, Aurore wiped a smudge of grease over her face, still holding the accelo-spanner in her hand. “…if we stall again and have a burnout, I have no circuitry replacements. Even the hyper fluid is baked. Not cycling through the drive, sitting in the basin it's rusting out!!”

“I understand. And I’m sorry, just do your 'job'…” The Captain said the word with finger quotations and a broad smile to make saying it more palpable. Aurore wasn’t buying. Turning on her heels, a jingle of tools around her belt and the whirl of spinning wheels once the astromech accompanying her turned as well to follow her.

They put on a brave face. The crew, the Captain. All of the Zeltrons who crewed the ship as well as the alien shipmates who were able to use the word 'work'. It was highly unusual to have an almost full Zeltron crew on a luxury liner. At least in key positions like the Captain and Chief Engineer. Most Zeltros based companies hired offworlders to actually 'work'. Aurore, unlike other Zeltrons liked her work. She liked tension and high stress situations, so often caused by keeping a ship as large as the 'Coursair', running. Everyone tried to ignore what was going on outside Zeltros, out in the Galaxy. They heard it from the passengers they picked up and bits of holo-net they intercepted near the Port of Entry. The Eternal Empire was coming. And when they arrived, even though the Zeltrons had no plans to fight; Aurore knew from the horror stories it wouldn’t matter.

Being the Chief Engineer usually came with perks. Bigger room, a seat at the leadership table with the other top officers. But she was too busy and the trips so fast she hardly had time to catch her breath. This was work, no time for fun. No pleasant thoughts of play and fun to occupy her. She couldn’t even leech those emotions emphatically from their passengers. Even if she saw some, which she rarely did, most of them were so traumatized by what they been through she wished she just stayed in the bowels of the ship. Her only respite was a few bottles of Zeltros Brandy she squirreled away and the droids she tinkered with. Life was in a holding pattern. At least till all of the Eternal Empire business went away. And that didn’t look to be coming soon.

Just making it back down to the engine room, no sooner had Aurore walked through the heavy sliding door that the hyperdrive alarm went off. They were traveling on sublight engines, but the system it used was the same cooling system which cycled the hyperdrive's fluidic cooling system. Bits of durasteel and galinium were coursing through the cooling lines and clogging up one of the hoses. Dropping the wrench she ran to the sublight monitoring system and started flipping switches. “No, nononono.” One by one the sublights sparked and started to burnout. Aurore tried desperately to save them as smoke filled the room. Only one of the six were still glowing green as the ship slowly lurched to a stop. The ship, was dead in the 'water'.

--

“If you’re accusing me of doing it on purpose because of what I said before it happened—” Aurore stood up in her seat and glared at the assembled officers, most of all the Captain. He raised his hands defensively.

“No one is accusing you of anything. I’ve sent a distress signal to the Port and the company.” Looking at the concerned looks from the others, The Captain waited until Aurore composed herself and sat down before reassuring everyone. “We’ll offload the passengers onto another liner, then try to limp ourselves back to Zeltros.” He looked at Aurore, who shook her head.

“Fat chance of that.” The engineer pursed her lips. “This is a serious burnout. The hyperdrive cooling system has corrupted the entire mechanism.” She tried to explain it to those who wouldn’t understand technical babble. Knowing no one else could understand. It was a lot more serious then she was explaining. “We've lost five of the six sublights. The cooler needs a flush and the hyperdrive coolant itself needs to be completely replaced after the tanks are scrubbed and polished. I can do some of that, but I can’t replace engines I don’t have. And the coolant...we just don't have a tank of that stuff lying around.”

“Burnout?” One of the other officers questioned. Aurore knew the guy as 'knowitall'. Always talking about things he didn’t understand. “So, we take out the damaged components and replace them with—”

“With what?!?!” Aurore already knew where the Officer was going. “There are no 'individual' components, the whole thing is shot! Those Engines are a total loss.”

“Then we sit and wait.” Saying it with a smile, the Captain actually looked happy. “A ship will come. In the meantime we carry on with our duties. We do have passengers that need our—”

An echo reverberated through the ship, they all looked up until the sound and rattle caught up with one another. All of the Zeltrons in the room flew to the far side, knocked off their feet as the ship lurched. Panicked, frightened faces all looking at one another. All of them finally settling on Aurore who was looking toward the door. “That wasn’t us.” Aurore said, getting to her feet. “That came from outside the ship.” At first, she though maybe something hit them. Then the second rattle happened, much closer and it came with a blast which nearly flipped the ship completely upside down.

“Weapons fire.”

--

They fixed the engines. Patched up the holes they made in the hull. Aurore learned a lot from just watching them, when she was able. Taking her by the jaw once she was done, the Eternal Empire engineer popped her mouth off the head off his cock and tossed her to the floor. Maybe they didn’t believe in work either. The engineer kriffed her almost as much as he worked on things around the ship. These were the first Zeltrons the humanoid members of the Eternal Empire boarding party had come in contact with.

And there were reports from the other members of the crew. Passengers abused or outright executed. None of the Zeltrons had been killed at least, but the hired contractor members of the crew that tried to resist were executed quickly. Sitting up on her knees, she pulled down her shirt over her breasts slowly. And received a slap across the face for doing so.

“I didn’t tell you get dressed. Did I tell you to get dressed?!?!” He didn’t hit her again, turning back toward the control console without waiting for Aurore's answer. The engineer was fastening his pants after pulling them up. She knew, for the moment, the engineer was going to do real work. Zeltrons tried not hate. It was a putrid emotion that often made a Zeltron sick. But Aurore was starting to hate the Eternals. And the emotion was so frequent that she was long past letting it make her sick.

Spinning back around, the engineer tossed Aurore a key card. “Go get yourself ready in my room. Wait there till I come for you.”

--

Humming to herself, she adjusted the motivator looking down at the datapad which was hooked to the unit. Wires were all over the place, flowing from the glowing pad back to the unit as she continued to hum. It was her respite, a way to escape what was going on outside in the ship. Aurore didn’t even hear the screams anymore. Part of it was the humming, but the other part was using her technical mind to hide in the droids she worked on in order to occupy herself.

In her own little world, she didn’t notice the droid activate. It’s eyes lit up, but with the motivator deactivated while she was still adjusting it, the droid was unable to move. It’s eyes adjusted and focused on her as she continued to tinker.

“You have been damaged.” The droid said abruptly. Aurore almost dropped the spanner. Looking up and letting out a pent-up fright.

“You scared me half to death. I had you deactivated.”

“You have been damaged” It repeated. Aurore looked at it’s eyes and then touched her face. The droid saw it, everyone did. But only the droid was oblivious of the new social norm to actually say anything. No one, at least no one humanoid, said anything those days. Everyone else, just let it wash over them. Beatings, rapes, even killings. It was the way of things. It was just, ‘normal’. But not to the droid. Aurore took her hand away from her face.

“I fell. You need not worry about—”

“I estimate that due to the nature of your contusions, the location and the coloration...you did not fall. In fact, I estimate with a ninety percent accuracy that you, in fact, were the victim of an assault.” Aurore reached up to turn off the droid’s vocabulator. Its next words stopped her. “Were you once again the victim of assault from the Eternal Empire’s Chief Engineer?”

Her eyes got wide, she looked away dropping the spanner to her lap and put a hand over her mouth. The droid continued to watch her, not saying anything. It wouldn’t until she answered the last query. “Yes” she finally answered softly.

“I…do not like him.” The droid intoned. Aurore looked up and smiled, sniffling hard and wiping the beginnings of tears from her eyes as she smiled; going back to adjusting the motivator.

“Really?” She laughed. “Well…you and I are of the same mind. I don’t like him much either.”

When the door to the cabin opened, Aurore quickly cut the droid off and set the tools down. She heard him call for her, getting up off the floor to run to the door. When she got there, she knew what she was supposed to do. He stood there, hand on his hip waiting. Slowly, she unzipped the jumpsuit and started taking it off.

--

Weeks passed. Traveling on sublight was going to take forever to get there. Where? The Eternal Empire crew never told them. And they were traveling much lighter than they were at the start. Less people, less everything. Aurore busied herself with her droids. Keeping company with them in order to keep herself sane. It was the only way she could fight off the negative feelings that made her sick to think about. In thinking about all of the things the Eternals had done to them, it almost incapacitated her.

Once the ship slowed, she knew something was wrong. A second later the lights dimmed as emergency lighting came on, along with the strange sounding klaxon alarm. Not something any of them were used to hearing on a civilian liner. The last time, was the day the Eternals captured their ship.

Getting up from her position, she moved into the main engineering bay. Eternal Empire personnel were frantically moving from station to station. Aurore stood there, not allowed to help or do anything. Forbidden since they were captured to have anything to do with the equipment.

“We can’t outrun them. Not in this bucket…” The Chief Engineer screamed into the comm.

The engineer looked back at Aurore, sneering slightly before looking back to the comm. “I understand…when you give the word, I’ll get it done.” He took out his blaster as the comm went dead.

--

The ‘Honor’. They all heard about the ship and the two sisters who formed ‘The Coalition’ to combat the Eternal Empire. It was one of the reasons the Eternal Empire chose to travel back toward contested space. No one was going to stop a civilian liner filled with passengers. At least not till they reached their target and detonated.

Coming into long range contact, the Captain knew at distance there was no way they could know the Zeltron Luxury Liner was anything other than a ship outside of where it should be. But that could have been enough. No way was the Captain going to let them board her. Picking up the comm, the Captain contacted the various sections of the ship to begin the executions. To be taken alive after being given such an important mission was unacceptable. After they killed everyone, they would kill themselves or die trying to fight whoever the ‘Honor’ sent to board the vessel.

--

Rumbling from various spots, the Engineer couldn’t tell if it was boarding pods or incoming turbolasers that was echoing along the hull. It didn’t matter, he had his orders. But he liked her. Liked her almost too much. Lifting the blaster, he actually said ‘sorry’. Uttering the words, but too cowardly to look her in the eyes as she knelt in front of him. Turning his head away, he started to pull the trigger.

Aurore went deaf. A silent numbness coming over her as she looked down and away once the Engineer turned his head. She shook once she heard the shot. Her body physically jumping from the fright of it all. ‘This was death?’ she questioned, thinking the last sound; the jolt she felt was her transition from that world to the next. But when she opened her eyes and looked up the smoke from the doorway exploding inward was still drifting across the floor. The feet of the Chief Engineer lay lifeless in front of her. A shadow drifted in front of her, a massive presence that seemed to fill the room and block out all of the light. And a massive hand, one of the biggest she ever seen gently extending toward her. Aurore took the hand and looked up into the pale face and black lined tattoos that made the presence look terrifying to some, but a savior to others. ‘You’re safe’ it said. Lifting her off the floor and pulling her up and into its arms. The presence had her, it cradled her and carried her away from everything.

‘You’re safe’ Marstel said. ‘You’ll always be safe with us.’

--

--

- Nar Shareef, Hutt Space....present time....

That part of town had a nickname. The ring. Not because they made fine jewelry. Every night was a fight, blood was always on the ground in some fashion in one or another part of the town. It had been several years since he been there. The place stank of cheap whiskey and even cheaper sex. Why Aurore had chosen that place as her home was beyond Waylon. A girl of her talents and it had nothing to do with the kind of talent the town was usually looking for in its women. Aurore was a talented engineer.

Their common acquaintance spent years funding their little adventures on the off chance that someday he would need them. A couple of the adventures brought all of them together. The shipment to Taral V, the blockade run on Dromand Kaas…running the Corellian Line during the Imperial Occupation. But all of them ended up returning to their own lives. Not to cross paths until called upon. None of them could hardly complain. Marstel paid well and didn’t ask questions. Such was the level of trust he had in them. Which in itself was strange to all of them. Marstel didn’t trust anyone but family. And them, as it turned out.

Looking at his chrono, Waylon made the turn on 9th street, looking up at the glowing sign as he did so. Long coat billowing in the wind, he pulled it back closed to hide the arsenal he was carrying under it. No way was he coming to Nar Shareef otherwise. As far as Hutt planets went, this one was top of the line which said something given the smell and the décor. It was all the same to Waylon, he seen one Hutt planet too many.

--

Looking at the approaching figure, Aurore smiled to herself. She was letting the man on the corner chat her up just so she could stand there. “So whatdaya say…” The man finally said, she didn’t even know his name. As Waylon approached, Aurore got a slight smile on her face, the man chatting her up thought it was for him as the Zeltron finally keyed in on the last part of what the man was saying to her.

“I’m sorry what?!?!” She looked at him smiling. “I don’t do that. Especially with my mouth. Go find a suction drone…” Letting Waylon pass, they exchanged a mere glance, Aurore pushing off the wall after shinning the man talking to her off. He grabbed her arm.

“No, you’ll do—” The words were cut short by the quick flash and slash of a vibroblade. It was serrated, the kind she used in her technical work. The cut wasn’t as clean as an assassin could have done, but it did the job. Aurore learned the hard way to take care of herself. Marstel insisted on that when he found her. A lesson she never forgot. Aurore owed Marstel her life.

Falling to the ground grabbing his arm, Aurore stepped over him and sheathed the blade. Moving slow enough to allow Waylon to enter the bar before she did. Once she entered, Aurore saw he was already standing at their regular table. The one front and center, right next to the stage. It always cloaked everything they talked about. Between the cheers for the strippers and the loud music right in their faces, no one could hear them.

On missions like the one all of them were being called together for, Aurore was the ‘go to gal’. Marstel sent everything to her, she dispersed it. Once, Waylon asked why. Marstel’s reply was always, ‘I like her better’. That ended the questions. Marstel did in fact like Aurore more, but now it was just a matter of annoying Waylon. The two men had a love/hate relationship.

Aurore positioned herself at the table, placing her ample backside against the edge. Turning her head slightly, she smiled warmly and winked. Another thing Aurore always did. Show Waylon what he couldn’t have. What no man could have. Aurore didn’t date anything that wasn’t mechanical or made of circuitry.

“Ok, you can stop…its getting old.” Waylon spoke as he lifted the drink, taking a swig to look away. Aurore turned with a faux pout and poked him.

“You’re no fun. You keep getting meaner and meaner. How ya been, Waylon?”

Without looking at her, Waylon set the glass down and sighed. “Fairly midlin’…you still kriffin’ droids?” Waylon laughed at himself. He never knew why it was, no one ever said and Aurore never told the story. Only Marstel knew and he wasn’t saying. Aurore only ‘dated’ droids, it was an old joke between them. Mostly because Waylon had a thing for Aurore, had always had a thing for her and was disappointed when she rejected him. Aurore lost the smile and frowned.

“You know I am, why do you always ask…” Pushing the datapad toward him, Aurore turned to watch the dancer speaking over her shoulder. “We are in a holding pattern. Alzir is supposed to be joining us, but Marstel doesn’t know when. Until then, you and I are on his credits.”

“Oh great.” Waylon shoved the datapad away taking the glass in hand to finish it. “What am I supposed to do in the meantime?”

“Have fun I guess.” Aurore flipped back around and picked up the datapad, shoving it in a cargo pocket. Waylon didn’t even read the mission. That they were in a holding pattern was enough for him. Stepping off, Aurore stopped by Waylon’s side leaning in to put her lips close to his ear. “And be careful who you invite into your bed around here…trust me, check twice…”

Before Aurore got too far away, Waylon spoke up. What he said froze her in her tracks.

“Have you seen him?”

Turning slowly, Aurore made the few steps slowly back toward the table. Leaning on it gently. She smiled and laid a hand on Waylon’s shoulder, giving the same warm smile.

“Let it go, Waylon. He’s been good to us. Good to me….I owe him my life, I owe him everything.” Aurore hesitated. “And you do to.” She took her hand away like Waylon was suddenly hot as his head snapped toward her with a sneer.

Though Waylon didn’t know Aurore’s story, he told her his. In a way, it was part of his recovery. Aurore knew everything about Waylon. It was perhaps why she thought of him as more than just a friend, but as part of some weird dysfunctional family.

“He and I are even.” Waylon said in a grumble.

“Then why are you doing this? You know if you want to leave the ‘circle’ all you have to do is tell him. We aren’t like the others, he’ll let you walk. You know he will.”

Opening his mouth Waylon almost said it. But he hesitated. Waylon didn’t want to say the only reason he was still a part of it all, was her. He didn’t want to say that she was the only tie to his old life that he still had. Didn’t want to hear the words that the fact that he cared for her more than himself was the only reason he hadn’t taken a gun to himself and finished the job the Eternal Empire started so long ago. Couldn’t utter the words that every night, as he spoiled himself with a different woman, the only woman he really wanted to be with….was her. Instead, he did what started the day his entire Clan was killed on Voss. He became the coward.

“I…have my reasons.”

Aurore smiled warmly again. “Then it better be a good reason.” She took out the datapad and left it on the table.

“You keep that. This one is going to be a rough one.”