The voice was both in the passageway and in her head. Mrysti’s scream reverberated with another’s scream.

Sion.

He screamed with her in unison as Mrysti tried to resist. “NO..NUH-NO…” As if grabbing him, Mrysti clutched her hands to her chest. An invisible item clutched close. In the Force, Mrysti grabbed the specter and hurled him away from her, falling back to the ground on all fours. “GET OUTTA ME!!!”

Sion leapt back toward Rickter, who had fallen to the ground. Her body, once sprawled out face first, immediately stood back up. She moved as if strings were attached to her. Rickter’s body not under her control. The Colonel pointed toward Mrysti, lifting the purple-pinkish glow of the saber toward the Mirialan.

Still on her knees, Mrysti looked up to see the Colonel stalking toward her. The saber came down. Mrysti rolled back out of the way, launching her hand out to pull her own saber back toward her. Rickter launched her own hand out to try and grab the crossguard saber as well. When she failed, the saber sailing toward Mrysti to land in her hand; Rickter looked at her own hand in shock. Mrysti slowly stood, activating the Orange-red plasma of her lightsaber once again.

“You don’t have the Force, Rickter…or Sion…or whatever you’re calling yourself. It’s fake, a smokescreen.” Mrysti knew exactly what was happening from the first few seconds of Sion trying to overtake her. She saw it all. Rickter finding the saber, killing the guards and slaying everyone all the way to the admin level to call for extraction. In her mind’s eye, she saw Sion’s plan and knew none of it was real. Sion was residual energy. The last bit of hatred and rage of a long dead Dark Lord trapped in the lightsaber he once used to dominate the galaxy. The last vestiges of a power that no longer had the means to exact its will. And in that few moments the rest of it became clear. The plan, the reason Rickter was sent down there. No more doubt coursed through Mrysti concerning Talia or that Malgus had indeed set everything in motion. Mrysti moved slowly, walking in an arc out to the front of Rickter.

“--No you ARE nothing.” Mrysti cut the entity off. Narrowing her eyes, she peered at Rickter. It didn’t have the power to lash out. Mrysti could feel Sion’s hold, his desire to just lash out and dominate her. But there was another to consider. Mrysti could easily have killed Talia, ended it all in that instant. It was with great risk that she delayed. Allowing Sion’s Entity to once again build the power it needed to try and overtake her. There was a sadness in Talia. Under all those layers of Sion, she could feel it. Talia knew she was going to die. No one cared. Not Mrysti, not the Empire. And it was great sadness that Talia convinced herself of her fate. Mrysti smiled weakly. “Talia, I know you’re in there. I understand now, I know why Malgus sent you down there.” Mrysti paused. “You’re not expendable. Not to me. I want you to know, I am not going to let you die. I saw it all. He knew you would need that power to get back to the admin level if things got out of hand. You accomplished your mission.”

The entity grimaced as Talia’s psyche tried to reassert itself. Mrysti seized on the opportunity.

“YES!!! Talia…fight. You are NOT expendable.” Mrysti narrowed her eyes, standing up straight. “You fight Colonel. That’s an order!!! You still have use to me.” Changing her tone, Mrysti tried to reach Talia on another level. The Colonel bent sharply grabbing her head. Sion’s voice echoed in harmony with Talia. Her glowing green eyes narrowing as the entity started to build up its power once again.

“Talia…I’m not going to kill you. But I want you to know…this is going to hurt.”

Sion/Rickter canted her head in confusion as Mrysti warped into the Force. Moving so fast she was a blur. Too late, the entity raised the saber in defense of itself. Mrysti’s own blade cutting an arc up and across as she weaved it under Colonel Rickter. In a quick slash and swipe, Talia’s hand was severed by the Orange-Red blur of lightsaber plasma.

The two voices cried out in unison. One of the voices giving way as the scream dissolved into that of a woman. Colonel Rickter fell. Her body landing in a heap as Mrysti completed her pass, turning around to grab the severed hand as it sailed along with the blur. Reaching up, Mrysti grabbed the saber with her other hand.

The power blanked her out. One powerful entity, meeting another….

--

Rage consumed her. Cornelia seemed to walk in slow motion. Actually, her speed making everything else appear to her as moving slower than she was. She spun into the first group of troopers. Slashing down at the first Soldier, severing his head from the rest of his torso. They turned. Cornelia saw them as if looking through water. The wavy nature of their movement projecting what they were going to do, how they would move and where she needed to go.

Blaster bolts passed her. The troopers firing haphazardly. Alarmed by the sudden appearance of the Sith from nowhere. And it was a Sith. The troopers were warned. They would encounter prisoners of all types. No one, not even a Sith was to be considered ‘friend’. Cornelia grabbed the barrel of another trooper, slinging the armored trooper into another of his team. Her saber moving up and under her arm as she reversed her grip. Stabbing the trooper whose carbine she held. Leaping forward after spinning around again. A fluid motion of movement. The saber moving in a horizontal arc as she withdrew. Cornelia jumped onto the shoulders of the next Soldier, who was just turning to get a bead on her.

Wrapping her legs around the neck and shoulders, she tightened her thighs and squeezed in the Force. Slamming the lightsaber down into the faceplate of the Soldier’s helmet. Riding the body all the way to the ground and coming up in a roll to face the next group of troopers.

--

“What the living hell—”

The Warden saw the flash of red light. The lightsaber that seemed to move at inhuman speed. In seconds the first team was down and the red saber was moving toward the second team. In a matter of moments, the Sith had dispatched all seven members of the first boarding party. And now she was moving toward the second. He wasn’t waiting around to see how long it would take her to overtake them. “Come on!!! Come on!!!” The Warden ran toward the shuttle, tripping as he fell over the boarding ramp to scurry up the side.

Once onboard he hit the control to raise the ramp, stranding the rest of the guard force who brought him there. Screams of dying men were cut off. Flashes of red light and the swooshing sound of saber slicing flesh and armor alike. The ramp closed and locked into place. The Warden turned, screaming toward the front of the shuttle.

“GO!!! GOOOO!!!”

--

“No!!” Cornelia launched her hand out. The last body of the Warden’s guard force had not even hit the deck as she launched a blistering arc of lightning from her hand into the rising shuttle. Raising off the platform, the shuttle fired back down at her. The explosion sending her flying backward toward the rear of the hangar. She hit the wall hard as darkness overcame her.

--

--

“AAGGGHHHH!!!” Mrysti held the purple-pinkish saber tightly in her grip. Her scream echoed by the scream of the one who inhabited the crystal within the saber. As she fell, her mind blanked out. A flash of light and Mrysti found herself standing across a great expanse.

--

On the other side, stood the one who desperately wished to get out. His skin looked like the cracked surface of a dry desert moon. Dark energy, which held him together, shown through the cracks. Darth Sion walked with purpose toward Mrysti. Before getting close he stopped, raising his chin slightly.

“My hate keeps me alive.” Sion canted his head, stating the obvious. “So, does yours.” The Dark Lord paced, but his head and dark glowing red eyes never left Mrysti. “I wished for death. For so long I sought it. The need to have someone powerful enough to finally destroy me, absolute. And when it finally came, I happily embraced it. You can not imagine the pain of holding on to the hate which held the very threads of life together. I…was immortal. But immortality has a price….”

“I know…” Mrysti spoke, lowering her head sympathetically.

“DO YOU?!?!” Sion stopped pacing. His eyes shooting into her.

“Yes.” Mrysti said sadly. “I was robbed of my death. One that I earned. Redemption I never thought possible, at the end I was granted what I most sought. Only to have it taken from me. I felt it…” Mrysti looked down again. “…I know what that ‘place’ feels like. I have been there. To be with those you most care for. To know that all of them are waiting there for you. Time, space…our acts, who we are. None of that matters. That…is immortality. Not this.” Mrysti pointed her saber at him. “…not holding on to a life that no longer has any meaning. You’re not really here Sion. You’ve passed on. Moved to that other place. All that remains is the hate you left behind. Your need to consume. I was robbed of my death…" Mrysti paused and looked up. A resolute stare, a commitment. "....let me carry on that hate for you.”

Sion turned sharply. He stared at Mrysti. “You lie. This is some sort of trick. To get me to release you and the other one.”

“No” Mrysti spoke softly as she shook her head. “Look deeper. If I wished it, I could leave this place and crush that saber. And there is absolutely nothing you could do to stop me.” Sion paused, he looked down before looking back at Mrysti again. “You see? You know what I say is truth. Let go. Withdraw yourself and I promise you, the sacrifice you’ve made for us here will not be in vain. I don’t wish to destroy that last part of you. All stories, all legacies deserve to be told…..even yours.”

--

“Cornelia?!?!”

A tap on the face and a shake of her head. Cornelia groggily opened her eyes to the red helmeted visor of Canton.

“Wha—I—”

“Yea, I know. Pretty amazing.” Looking back behind him, the smoky shambles of the hangar lay in ruins. A job done by both Cornelia and the shuttle. Canton couldn’t believe it. Catching the last part as his systems came back online. Cornelia. He knew she was powerful. But to see that power unleashed. Running through two teams of troopers in a matter of seconds. The Warden got away. Only by projecting his defensive shield around Cornelia at the last moment did she survive a direct hit from the shuttle’s turbolasers. But it still did concussion damage.

“He-he—got—” Cornelia tried to speak.

Reaching down, Canton scooped Cornelia into his arms and carried her out of the hangar. She wrapped rubbery arms around his neck and let herself relax. Canton looked down. They needed to rest. Going non-stop for well over a week, both of them were tired. And stealing little bits of sleep here and there while the other watched was not going to get it done. Canton laughed slightly, looking down at her as he continued to make his way back down the corridor they came from. “You couldn’t wait…like two more minutes?”

Cornelia shook her head lazily. “Nu-no…” She said softly. “Th-tha Warden, he—”

“I know.” Canton spoke in a low and morose tone. “He got away.”

--

Back in the passageway, Mrysti found herself standing over Talia. Her arm raised. And in her hand, the Eye of Sion fell silent. Eyeing the saber hilt curiously, she could feel the power in it. Dormant, waiting. But for the moment pacified. Mrysti clipped it to her belt and bent down, rolling Colonel Rickter over.

The stump where Talia's hand once existed was cauterized. She would need a replacement and she would get one. Mrysti would make sure of it. Scooping Talia into her arms, Mrysti walked back toward the office area. She kicked the door panel once she crossed the threshold, lowering the blast door to seal herself and Colonel Rickter in. Moving to a couch, she laid Talia down gently and turned her attention to the equipment which all of them had fought so desperately to get to.

Light flickered and ran across the panel. Mrysti approached and thumbed some switches. Opening a frequency out into space. Particularly the Imperial Fleet which rested just outside of the prison’s orbit.

“…Imperial Fleet, This is…” Mrysti hesitated, a smile coming to her face. “…this is, ‘Darth’ Retuvisa. By my right of Ascension and Named of the Sith, I am ordering you to cease all action concerning this facility. You are also ordered to come as soon as possible and retrieve myself, Colonel Rickter, my apprentice and her consort. Imperial fleet…are you receiving this?!?!”

--

Captain Tanis allowed the message to be sent twice. Darth Retuvisa would more than likely not wish to repeat herself a third time. Reaching under his collar, Captain Tanis pulled outward swallowing hard. He reached down, about to answer personally.

Moving along side of him, the Warden thumbed the communication toggle before he could. Leaning down, a wicked smile crossed his features.

“…’Darth’ Retuvisa…I’m sure you recognize my voice. I regret to inform you that there will be no retrieval. YOU are a convicted criminal and we are not subject to your laws or your authority. And you should be ashamed to use Colonel Rickter’s name in vain. She’s dead. I know this because her life signs were no longer detected once the riot broke out. You will remain on the asteroid until we can decide how best to deal with the situation. Warden out.”

Standing up, the Warden clasped his hands behind his back and glared at the Captain.

“Warden, your authority in this sector ended the moment you left the prison.” The Captain narrowed his eyes.

“On the contrary Captain Tanis, my authority broadened the moment Colonel Rickter met her demise. I am a Regional Governor. This fleet and this entire sector now fall directly under my control.” The Warden turned to walk off the bridge. “If you have a question concerning that, Captain…you are encouraged to contact higher command and request instructions. It will take a week at least to get a response. But in the meantime, all communication with the prison are suspended. And you will have the fleet move into firing range and await my instructions. If we do not hear an answer to our calls for help soon, then I am afraid we may have to do something….drastic.”

--

--

- Galactic City, Coruscant…Ministry of Defense; 0859 hrs GST….

RT looked at his chrono. But not before looking around at the other members of Shadow Squad; who all shared bored looks or humorous expressions. Everyone at the table, including RT, knew it was his last official day on the job as Shadow Squad Commander. All of them glanced at the sliding vault door once the chrono hit . And as expected, the door slid open with thirty seconds to spare. Murriel entered in a rush. In the middle of pulling her hair back to tie it within regulations tightly on her head. She dropped her hands giving a glare to the ‘mostly’ males in the room. Taking on a air of superiority; sauntering to the opposite of the table and sitting directly across from RT. Who once again looked at his chrono. She wasn’t late, but thirty seconds? RT gave her an expression. It said ‘Really?!?’ Murriel straightened an errand lock of her green and pink locks, tucking it behind one ear.

RT stood up, the lighting in the room lowered on its own. The table illuminating and projecting an image in the center for all to see. He started to pace, looking at the image as it slowly spun in the ions between all of them. A piece of tech. The specs of which were still being deciphered. But what the Republic (and Cypher) discovered about the mysterious chip was already being detailed within the projection cloud among them. Numbers and schematics ran a fluid and predictable pattern around the outside of the image. And RT pointed to it as he walked.

“We’re calling it ‘Life-giver’…” RT started sternly. “…one of our contacts in the ‘private’ sector….” RT and Murriel exchanged a look. “…was able to discover not only its existence, but we now know the ‘Organization’ is building a prototype of some kind.” Shadow Squad all exchanged looks, even Murriel giving a somewhat skeptical glance at the holo-image. “Ladies and gentlemen, this is a game changer. Not just for the Organization, but for anyone who gets their hands on this technology. The ability for the individual implanted with this to download their knowledge—their entire mind into the device to be replanted into…what?” He seemed perplexed for a moment, RT looked down the table toward someone for clarification.

At the far end, a cloaked figure stood. Removing her hood, Murriel couldn’t help but smile at the excitement of the girl. Only an empath, Murriel could detect her emotion. But she didn't need to, Murriel knew Cypher. She knew exactly what Cypher was thinking. And if she could have, Murriel would have called out: ‘Is this really a top secret briefing room?!?! And you guys are all spooks?!?!’ But in Cypher’s voice. Cypher lost the smile trying to contain herself. Looking around nervously.

“Me?!? Oh yea…sorry. Yea this is immortality. I mean, if you could repair the host body you could just download the information back into the mind of the original host. Or…implant it into a new body. I mean, I’m no scientist. I don’t know what that would do to the original mind, but a theory suggest that—”

RT smiled kindly, interrupting her. “—thank you, Anna.” Cypher hesitantly sat back down. "I think we get the idea." RT looked back toward the image. “We needed answers to that question so I’ve sent some of our data to scientists within the Republic—”

“—Not V’ictoria.” Murriel spoke up sharply.

“Scientists.” RT replied turning his head slowly toward Murriel.

“No I get it, ‘Sir’. I mean, when you say scientists…I want to make sure we’re not talking about a certain scientist.”

“Scientists.” RT said again.

“Ok, just to be clear—”

“Colonel…if you please.” RT spat sharply. Murriel eased back in her seat, throwing her hands up. But not before moving her mouth silently toward him. ‘NOT V’ictoria’. RT narrowed his eyes at the Zeltron before looking back to the image once again. “We’ve been fortunate in several regards…” Clicking the control in his hand, the image zoomed in. Components of the chip in the display breaking down in to several smaller parts as they spun in the blue-ion field. “…a major component of the chip is a bio-engineered metal called: Ditranium. This piece of tech can’t be constructed without it. A metal that allows for not only integration of transplant within an organic host, but facilitates the transmission of whatever signals this thing is programmed to download. There are a whole litany of reason 'why' you can't just construct something out of any metal and transplant it into something organic. I won't bother going into those details.” RT clicked the controller again. The lights came up as all eyes turned toward him. He looked at Murriel. “Right now, we have control over every refinery that can produce this particular metal.”

Murriel smirked as she sat up, “Let me guess….all but one?” RT nodded sharply.

“The Reconstituted Royal Refinery that belongs to the provisional government of Zakuul.” RT narrowed his gaze. “You are going there…I don’t want the refinery destroyed or molested in anyway. I want them to produce this metal so we can trace it back to the tech’s manufacturing location. We believe its on Corellia, but with this amount of refined metal…the Organization could and probably are using multiple locations.”

They all sat up, some of the squad exchanging smiles and getting restless. RT moved to the rear of the room, clasping his hands behind his back.

“On a personal note…I want to congratulate Colonel La’chance on her promotion to Shadow Squad Commander. I am—well, you all know this is my last day in Special Operations Command. This squad, as all squads, will continue to perform in the excellent manner I have come to expect. ON this mission, I—the Republic is going to need your very best. As I stated, this is a game changer. If the Imperials get their hands on this technology the possibilities are endless and not something we would like to contemplate. The Organization has been defeated, but they are still a great threat. It's things like this ‘life-giver’ technology that reinforce why we need to not only face the enemies we can see, but also those who lie in wait. Dismissed….and thank you.”

Everyone got up. RT didn’t have to, but he looked toward Murriel anyway. The Zeltron was already expecting to be summoned after 'school', for some sort of detention. “Colonel…a word if I may…” They waited until everyone left. Cypher the last one out as she still looked around the room in awe, shooting an excited smile toward the two as she exited. When the door slid shut, RT turned on her.

“—859?!?! Really?!? You realize…YOU are in command of this squad now. These men and women are looking to you!!”

“--oh get your panties out of your ass, RT…I wasn’t late.” Murriel flopped back down in her seat, slinging her legs up to drop them on the table.

“These men…and women, they train for years to do this job. Take on the toughest training, risk themselves on the toughest missions. If you had experienced any of that maybe you would appreciate—”

“Then kriffin’ pick someone else!!!” Murriel slung her legs off the table and sat up. “I didn’ ask for this 'honor' and I DON’T WANT IT!! I asked to be let go, I asked for the Republic ta give me my walkin’ papers and you flat refused.”

“Because I thought you would eventually, grow up. See that what we’re doing here is of greater import than stealing information or killing a mark. If you had even an ounce of Cora’s—” RT stopped himself. Murriel narrowed her eyes. A wicked smile starting slowly across the Zeltron’s face.

“Soooo…the truth comes out.” Murriel stood up, she slowly started walking toward him. The sexy sway of her hips not to entice him, she used her body to prove a point and often did when she knew she was on to something. A way of projecting her thoughts. RT didn’t move, he looked up raising his chin slightly. Defiantly. “This has absolutely nothing to do with me and everything to do with Cora. You've always wanted me to BE Cora.” Murriel narrowed her gaze again. “Such a man…wanting to have your cake and eat it too? Life doesn’t work that way, ‘darling’…I am my own person. I will never change. Best stop trying to ‘mold’ me into your plaything…at least with the lights on.” Murriel winked at him. Again it wasn’t sexual, RT knew that. He got caught trying to compare and shape Murriel once again into something she was not.

Cora was not as trusted as Murriel in the higher echelons of Republic Command. To them, Cora would always be ‘a former Imperial’. Murriel, though reputation tarnished, was still a ‘Republic Soldier’. Trained by them, raised by them. And she had the assets that Cora did not. Not the training or the dedication Cora possessed, but they were willing to look past that. What Murriel brought to the table was her connections and her ability to get information that others could not. As unlikely as it was, given the Zeltron’s appearance, she actually ‘blended’. In the way that someone looking at Murriel would never guess that she was a highly trained Republic operative. But not as highly trained as those she was being forced to command.

“That’s not what I meant—I—” RT shook his head, his face getting stern. “—you know what I mean. You could ‘try’ to show a little dedication. That you care at least a tiny bit. These men will live and die by your command and your attitude of being nonchalant and not caring is not going to get it done.” RT threw up his hands, “You know what…forget it. I’m done trying to mentor you.” He turned starting to walk out.

“No, please ‘General’…” Murriel added sarcastically. “…please continue to ‘mentor’ me.” RT turned at the door shooting a glare back toward Murriel. “Just this time…we better not let your ‘girlfriend’ find out.” She flashed him another sly wink. “…you know what happened last time. And this time, I don’t think you or I will escape her so easily. But I like to live…dangerously. You want me…you know where to find me.”

"That's right..." RT spoke harshly. "...I do know where to find you. And just for the record, I wasn't the one who who started any of that. I was weak. YOU, Cora...my sisters...all of you MAKE me weak. You won't fine me at your door, ever again."

--

- Thirty-second Hyperspace Jump…Sector G-4, Wild Space….

“I’m trying to plot the next course and you’re pulling things apart!!!” Waylon stepped over the panel which lay on the floor of the engineering section. He accidentally kicked one of the components which flew to the far side of the bay. Throwing his hands up in alarm and frustration.

Aurore sat in the floor, trying to reassemble the hyperdrive computer. The trip was taking far too many jumps. The data Marstel giving them not accurately being translated by the computer to plot the most efficient route. Aurore smiled up at him.

“You think this is taking a long time. How about your stupid computer not accurately translating the coordinates it was given…I’m trying to correct the error and increase its efficiency.”

“Increase it? INCREASE IT?!?!” Waylon leaned out, glaring at the Zeltron. “Aurore, you tore the whole thing out?!? How am I suppose to input the data if the damn thing is offline?!?!”

“This is going to take a fraction of the time to repair compare to how much time we already wasted listening to your idiotic computer!!!”

--

On the far side of the bay, Cora and Deavon stood watching them. The two had been fighting the whole trip. Deavon looking over at Cora to shake her head. “I wish they would just kill one another.” Deavon spoke softly. Cora smiled, shaking her head.

She knew the frustration and tension between Waylon and Aurore. Recognized it. It was the same level of frustration she had with RT at times. Tension, a different kind of unspoken tension. She looked over at Deavon, her glowing red eyes narrowing.

“Make no mistake…that’s not anger between the two of them. That’s tension…” Deavon looked over as Cora smiled wickedly. “…sexual, tension.” Both women looked back down the engineering bay as the two further down continued to argue. Deavon raised an arm toward the pair.

“Then…he needs to just kriff her. Or her…him. Otherwise we are never going to get there.” Deavon looked at Cora. “Don’t get me wrong…I have no problem being stuck on this ship with you ‘Major’. But those two…those two I would kill and not lose a minute’s sleep over it.” The two smiled at one another withdrawing back into the other parts of the ship.

“Cora…you can call me Cora…”

--

Sitting in her state room, Cora looked toward the door as the chime sounded. She was a bit shocked to see the Zeltron standing there. Cora nodded, but the unconscious look of disdain flashed across her face.

“Can I come in?” Aurore asked with a slight smile. Cora nodded, getting up to move some books and holos she had scattered over the mattress of the small room. There was nowhere else to sit. The bed literally taking up half of the room's space next to the small desk Cora was sitting at. The fresher taking up the other part of the room as a curtain closed off the area from the rest of the small living space. Cora took it upon herself to sit down on the bed after pulling the desk chair out for Aurore slightly. An awkward silence passed between them as Aurore sat and then looked away. She knew she was intruding on the otherwise private Chiss.

Throughout the journey, Cora kept to herself. Studying the information given to them by Marstel. Preparing herself for whatever lay ahead in Sector G-7. The only other person Cora seemed to speak to was Deavon and even that was sporadic. Deavon also not one for talking or company. The ‘privateering’ Jedi keeping to herself to meditate and prepare in her own way for what was to come. That left Aurore to try and relate in some way to Waylon, who she knew very well. But as both Cora and Deavon observed, there was a tension between the Zeltron and the former Mandalorian. An unspoken thing that the two of them could not seem to get past. All of it was hard on the ordinarily outgoing and vibrant Zeltron, who had only her work and her droids to keep her company.

Aurore looked up and smiled weakly, brushing a lock of her brownish red hair out of eyes. Cora simply stared and waited. There had to be some reason her privacy was being invaded. “You don’t like me very much…do you?”

The look of shock from Cora passed quickly. The Chiss almost forgot how abrupt and to the point Zeltrons could be. Without meaning to be. Looking inside before answering, Cora realized that she was most likely giving the evil eye to Aurore. Even at that moment. And probably had been giving the younger woman the evil eye throughout the whole trip. Murriel’s image flashed through her mind, as Cora shook her head. The Chiss finally smiled sympathetically.

“It’s not you…Aurore.” Cora’s formal Imperial accent coming out as she tried to explain herself. “And if I’ve done something, said something or given the impression that I don’t like you for some reason; that is entirely my fault.” Another silence as Aurore looked down and then smiled. “I ‘had’ a friend…my ‘best’ friend actually; she was—is also a Zeltron. She and I are…” Cora realized she didn’t know how she viewed hers and Murriel’s relationship. Trying not to think about it, Cora realized she actually dwelled on it far too often. “…we are, in a bit of disagreement over something at the moment.”

“A man!!” Aurore looked up smiling brightly. Realizing she shouldn’t have been feeling out Cora’s thoughts, Aurore saw the flash of annoyance cross Cora’s face once again. “—I’m sorry, I souldn’a…I mean, it could be a woman!!”

The last part made Cora smile. There was a time Cora and Murriel shared that kind of relationship. The Chiss relaxed, laying back on her arms as she nodded. “Yes…it’s a man. Not just any man. The man I waited my entire life to find.” Cora sat back up, “I’m not sure why I told you that. That was incredibly personal, I’m sorry.”

“No, no…” Aurore exclaimed. She grabbed the chair between her legs and scooted a bit closer to Cora. Hardly possible in the tiny cabin. It brought Aurore incredibly close. Even closer once the Zeltron leaned in. “…please, no…it’s why I came here. I wanted to apologize for the display—and delaying our trip. I know how you military types appreciate efficiency. What happened in the engineering section—” Aurore looked down again. “—it won’t happen again. Waylon, he…well, he likes things his own way and that’s not always the ‘best’ way…”

The words sounded like they came from someone who had a long relationship with the other person. It smelled of 'marriage'. Cora smiled wickedly. She seen it before. And it had nothing to do with knowing Zeltrons. This was a particular look.

“Aurore…” Cora started out softly, “…you don’t need to explain yourself. I’m sure you and Waylon are doing everything you can to get us there in the quickest way possible.” Aurore looked up. “You also have no need to explain your relationship with him.” Aurore cocked her head, giving Cora a strange look.

“Relationship?”

“Friendship, history…whatever is going on between the two of you.”

“OH!!” Aurore exclaimed. She raised her hands defensively sitting back. “There’s nothing going on!! Trust me.” The darker shade of pink Aurore was turning said otherwise.

The Zeltron got up, moving toward the door. She turned and nodded solemnly, a shy glance downward as she attempted to retreat. "Well, thank you for listening to me and understanding. And I--" Aurore realized she was overstaying her welcome. Not finishing what she was about to stay, she just wanted to leave.

“Aurore…” The Zeltron turned and looked at Cora curiously. “…might I make a suggestion?”

“Please.”

Cora got off the bed, moving the chair in front of her back under the tiny desk. Once she reached Aurore, Cora raised an arm leaning it on the door frame and herself in toward the Zeltron. She lowered her rich, deep melodic voice as if trying to hide the words and the thoughts from everyone, but Aurore.

“…I waited a very long time to find the one who existed only in my dreams. And when I found him, I nearly lost him. There are times that I wish, those moments I wasted; the time I lost either in trying to find him or chasing him away for one reason or another…I could get back. And if you think that this man is the one you are meant for, don’t waste another second. You WILL regret it.” Cora backed up and smiled. “And there is no need to thank me, Aurore. I want to Thank you…”

“For what?”

“For illuminating my own dilemmas. Showing me something, I nearly forgot.” Cora placed a kind hand on the Zeltron’s shoulder and squeezed. “I hope you resolve your own situation.”

After Aurore left, Cora pulled out the chair and sat back down at the desk. A bright smile coming over her face. Moving her hands across the surface of the desk, she activated the subspace transmitter. A blue imager focused on her face as it began to record. Cora smiling at it shyly as she composed herself.

“Hello, Trea’vor…though I am on the other side of the galaxy…I want you to know something….”

--

- Southland, Corellia…Hyperdrive Cooler…

Sitting down at the table, she sat back and relaxed. Placing an arm up along both sides of the long plush couch. ‘Hyperdrive Cooler’ was the high end of dive bars in the industrial sector. The area known as ‘the working man’ sector of Corellia. People didn’t stand on politics or normal corporate business. These were people who lived by the sonic horn; calling them to work and signaling them home at the end of the day.

Porchia didn’t enter in a rush or make her location known. It wasn’t exactly hiding either. The famous face, her reputation. None of that mattered. She entered, pushing open the swinging industrial type doors and looked around, carefully. A round brim hat pulled down low over her eyes. Trying not to be obvious. Once the droid approached and took her order she looked back again. Her slow gaze around to assess the area taken again as if looking for a server droid. It was also why she wasn’t surprised when the same droid wasn’t the one to bring the drink back.

The place smelled of hyperdrive coolant. Not because of the establishment, per se. The entire sector ebbed the smell from large stacks that towered above factories. Scrubber and cleaner droids echoed outside in predetermined passes over the street out front. A necessary evil for being the industrial heart of the planet. Porchia looked up, the hat hiding her eyes. Sinking back into the couch at the hand which held her glass.

“Been a long time, since Mirial…” Porchia watched the hand set the drink down and leaned forward, taking one arm off the couch to drop lazily by her side. Not so lazy that she didn’t place it directly on her thigh holster. She looked over. Same blonde hair, same tattoos. The skin looked a little darker; could have been the low lights. Porchia smiled as ‘Rose’ sat down. “…gotta say, I was a bit surprised ta get tha call. Especially from your ‘pops’. He wasn’t too pleased with my last bit of work I did for him.” Taking the drink in hand, Porchia took the glass from Rose and tipped it back against her lips. Sitting it back down after.

“Wuz my idea…” Porchia finally said. “…but ya WERE tha second choice.” The gunslingers face dissolved into a wicked smile.

Rose smiled knowingly. Cora would have been the first choice, but she was conveniently indisposed. As was Murriel. Though Murriel was no longer counted on for ‘unofficial’ jobs. Her ‘official’ status making her ineligible for the kind of work Porchia needed done. Rose signaled for the droid. They both waited till it rolled away before speaking again.

“She’s definitely here. I got my own theories about that one…”

Nodding slightly, Porchia had her own ideas as well. Knowing exactly who the ‘She’ was. Porchia tracked her from Coruscant. And could have stopped the escape. But Marstel put a stop to it. They wanted her to flee and lead them all back to the primary location. It was a multi-faceted operation. This was only one part of it. And in allowing Aurora to leave, Marstel informed Porchia in not so many words that Alzir was no longer to be fully trusted. At least as far as that operation was concerned. The Wroonian was potentially ‘compromised’. It wasn’t that Marstel or Porchia trusted ‘Rose’ exactly. But the proximity and ‘Rose’ already operating on Corellia made her the easiest choice. Otherwise, Marstel would have sent Alzir. “I do too…” Porchia reached forward lifting the glass to take another sip. “Gonna make it harder to git an audience with…’his highness’.” Both women smiled at Porchia’s use of the phrase.

After the drink was delivered for ‘Rose’ she used the excuse of the droid setting it down closer to Porchia to change her seat, moving right alongside the former pod-racing champion. They actually looked like two lovers talking. Rose got uncomfortably close. Opening her jacket to produce several miniaturized holos, spreading them out on the table in front of them. Looking over, Porchia couldn’t help but turn her face up toward the larger Rose. The planner smelled of work and sweat; but in a good way. Ordinary smells that on any one else would have made someone take a scoot away, made Porchia close in slightly. It was warm, inviting. Something Porchia chalked up to Rose’s heritage. Kiffars, the mystical looking humanoids of the galaxy.

“They don’t know you’re here to see them. But they definitely know…you’re here.” Rose lowered her voice only slightly. Looking down at the holos as Porchia did. Porchia picked up the glass again, leaning forward to look at the holos Rose produced. “…the facility is all Org run. Safe haven. They’re protecting something in there. No idea what. Could actually only be the new ‘Chairman’ they are looking after. So, I wouldn’t suggest meeting him there. You want an audience, you need to send a message…let me set it up.”

The offer stunned Porchia. That Rose who typically only planned things would offer to get more involved. It immediately made her suspicious. But Porchia hid it. It was no secret that Rose was still on the take, plying her trades to the highest bidder. Porchia laughed, sitting back. She got a good enough look at the holos. Rose scooped them up and put them back in her jacket. The glow of the stills cut off as she closed the vest up and fastened it closed. It wasn’t a ‘no’. Marstel often scolded Porchia that she was too ‘trusting’. Nodding to herself, she looked up slightly. “You gonna…git tha’ word out.” The gunslinger was still smiling as Rose stood up to leave.

“Thanks fer tha’ drink.” Rose nodded and turned to leave. “I’ll let ya kno’ when I hear sumthin’.”

--

- Old World, Zakuul….

One thing that could be said about the days of Valkorian; the people loved him. The same couldn’t be said of the Provisional Government or their new occupiers. For the citizenry’s part, they could honestly care less about the small war that was brewing between the Resistance and the Imperials on the planet. Had the Empire been smarter, they would have applied the doctrine used by their enemies in the Galactic Conflict: ‘Winning Hearts and Minds’. Instead, the Imperial’s were using their old mantra, rule by subjugation. And it was costing them. But gaining the Resistance almost every day. As each day passed the Resistance grew. Only because those harmed or disenfranchised by the Empire continued to fill their ranks.

Taja was fighting a losing battle. Still angry with the Republic for abandoning them. But dedicated to the proposition that no one would ‘rule’ over Zakuul. They all had enough of ‘rulers’. Thus far, the war had been a series of small-scale engagements. An assassination here. Graffiti and disorganized civil disobedience there. The Empire had the numbers and the organization. There was no way Taja could simply bring the fight to the Empire. But all of that was about to change.

Rounding the corner, Taja immediately pulled back. Throwing herself against the wall. It was one of the ‘new’ ones. The Empire’s new shock troops. Protected by a suit of all red, gleaming armor. The Sith Troopers were a special breed. Some of them had the use of the Force in some kind of way, but carried no lightsabers. Able to see things and detect things other troopers did not. A low-level skill, worthy of a Padawan or a Zakuul Knight.

Taja extended her arm along the wall. Her blaster held tight in her fist. By the time the trooper passed the corner; its helmeted head snapping toward her as it detected the threat. All the trooper saw was the blinding flash of phased plasma at five-thousand degrees Fahrenheit. A neat hole appearing in the helmet of the trooper dead center of the eye slits. The body dropped like a sack of rocks. Taja pushed off the wall and ran toward her original destination, glancing at her chrono.

Taja entered the enclave and was immediately stopped by two robed figures who seemed to grow out of the shadows. They didn’t lower hoods of their dark robes, one of the figures producing a lightsaber. Taja backed up and did nothing threatening. Instead, steepling her hands to look over at the figure with the red plasma blade.

“Izak, protect you…” Taja fell back on her faith. Bowing her head and closing her eyes to the two dark looming figures. The fanatic without the lightsaber took on a similar pose. His companion continuing to watch and protect them both with the hum of his lightsaber.

“SHE…protects all…” They both looked up after a pause, both lowering their hands as Taja smiled. The cultist with the saber quickly put it away within the folds of his robe. “Welcome, Taja…you are expected.” They both stood aside, leading the way once they all crossed the threshold denoting a change in territory. That part of Old Town belonged to the Cultist of Retuvisa. And it was a large swath of land carved out in the middle of what Zakuul considered forbidden territory. No one of any status or reputation came to Old Town. And Taja had to admit, once she became a member of the Provisional Government, she too, didn’t come back there. Even though it was Old World, as a Priestess of Izax, a place she once called home.

Taja looked around as they walked. Robed figures were everywhere. But also some normal denizens of Old Town. Vagabonds and the disenfranchised. The Derelicts and Rundowns all looked fresh. Painted and well cared for. Those that chose to live with the Cultist didn’t go without. And all that the Cultist asked for was respect. Respect for their beliefs, respect for their fellow citizens. Decommissioned Zakuul Walkers stood at almost every street corner. There was a heavy military presence around every building. The Cultist were not just protecting themselves and the people who lived there from the Empire. They were protecting themselves from anyone who would come in and try to tell them how to live. And it was that belief that Taja wanted to exploit.

They stopped by a speeder. Three robed figures leaning over the hood as they studied a holo-image of some kind. Once Taja and her escorts stopped, the three turned away from their work and looked back toward them. Deactivating the holo-image so they could regard the new group.

“Taja…” One of the three spoke. “…Priestess of Izax, your reputation proceeds you.”

“…yes, it does.” Another spoke. “…as does your rededication to the provisional government.” There was a bit of disdain in the voice.

The last finished for the three of them, “….do you come before ‘HER’ as a representative of that government? Or of your own volition?”

Taja looked at all three, not really sure who she should address. The guards merged back into the shadows, blending with the busy street and environment. Steepling her hands she bowed her head again, just to buy herself a few more seconds.

“…I come…as a free Zakuulian. I represent those who would not be ruled any longer. We, as a people, have had enough of rulers.”

“Agreed…” The first said.

“…but that does not affect us.”

“No, the Empire will not come here. They know better. We have carved out our own country within a country. ‘SHE’ guides us to our own destiny.”

Taja frowned, looking between the three of them. It was the same old belief. That those with more power would stay away simply because of the threat of engagement. The Empire didn’t work that way. The cultist should have known that. For no other reason than the God they worshipped once being one of the Empire’s chosen. “You realize, that will not always be so. Once the Empire moves into Old Town, you too will be subjugated. It is their way. All must bend the knee to their will.”

“Our ‘god’ was once one of them. We understand their ways…”

“…but ‘she’ would not bend to their will. And she returns.”

“…when she does, the Empire will burn. Their arrival matters little, when the fate of their existence will be at stake.”

Shaking her head, Taja raised her arms. “But how many will die before that’s realized? How many will be forced to bend to their will?” The three looked at one another under their dark hoods. Finally turning their hidden gazes back to Taja.

“What do you ask of us?” The First was the only one to speak.

“I do not ask that you join the Resistance. I would not jeopardize all of what you have built here. But I do ask for you help with something. That this be a haven for those from my group who come to Old Town. That they be allowed to pass through and maybe hide from those who would oppress them.”

The three looked at one another again. All of them turning back toward Taja after a moment. “Granted. We honor your dedication and your faith to Izax. And to your people. This will always be a place of refuge for your ‘Resistance’. Though we do not actively seek confrontation with the Empire, we recognize that you speak truth. And we will assist you however we can.” They all looked off toward one of the derelicts. As if on cue, the doors to the structure slid open. Four of the robed figures pulling and pushing a red armored figure toward them all.

Once they reached Taja and her group, the guards pressed the red armored figure down to his knees. The three looked back to Taja.

“This one…” They inclined toward the red armored trooper. “…is possessed of the Power. A new kind of Imperial. Not unlike the Knights who once roamed Zakuul.” The first drew his lightsaber in a flurry. Stabbing into the armor of the trooper’s chest with a sickening pop and just as quickly withdrawing. Putting the saber away with a rush of movement, it disappeared into the folds of the First’s robe. The body of the red armored trooper falling to the ground. “…be mindful, Taja…Priestess of Izax. The Empire employs new weapons. But we…stand ready to guard against them.”