StarDestroyer.Net BBS

1-8

As the red blade descended, a green shaft of light snap hissed to life and intercepted the deadly beam mere centimeters from Derith’s head. The clash illuminated his features in the orange haze. As they held each other at bay for the briefest of moments, Fearghul hovered in the air, pressing down onto his opponent. Derith shoved Fearghul off with the Force, allowing his foe to land a few meters away. He knew the platform was a small circular raised platform. Perhaps a few meters till the edges that yawned into a darkened abyss of the lower sections of the palace. Regaining his posture, Fearghul smiled a deep feral grin; this would not be easy prey. He gave no warning about his initial lunge and his opponent gave no sign that he was prepared.

Derith for his part adjusted himself for battle by planting his feet with his knees slightly bent. He let his feelings flow outward as he gave himself a mental picture of the arena he was in. This was a tibanna processing area, and the lower areas were perhaps maintenance with small weapons storage below even that. Letting the Force focus upon his foe, he knew there would be no interruptions, no nuisances. With one hand he gripped his lightsaber and crossing it in front of his chest; Derith observed every nuance his foe’s movement. His eyes never wavered; his breathing had become almost inaudible, his expression a cold mask of indifference.

Fearghul sauntered forward, letting his saber sizzle the floor. Suddenly he lunged forward with a gleeful smile making several slashes, each of which was parried with frightening speed. The Jedi’s blade had the look that it appeared where it was needed rather then a blur. Fearghul knew that none of them ever came close to any vulnerable point, but noticed that his foe only made the briefest of deflections, and the only movement he saw from the Jedi was his arm and a slight flutter in the cloak.

“Ah, a student of Makashi, or perhaps Shien?” Fearghul said as he stepped back and began circling his foe. Derith made no response in any form. In fact all he did was move his feet and body to track Fearghul’s movement.

“Nothing to say, Jedi?” Fearghul said, shaking his head. “Pity.” Before the word fully escaped his lips, Fearghul lunged forward savagely. Derith parried the blow to his head with a simple turn of his own blade, and pushed the red blade away. Fearghul, undaunted by the actions of his foe, redoubled his efforts and repeated the same motion but aiming for the arm instead of the head, and was rewarded with a simple parry and shove. The Sith lord smiled, as he saw that twice the Jedi had made no aggressive movements. Slashing he made another attempt at his opponent’s head, his blade a blur of red. At the last moment of each slash the green shaft seem to appear and block and push him back slightly. With immense effort he lunged forward pushing his body into the blade, with Derith intercepting the blow. This time Derith did not push him off, their eyes finally meeting.

Standing there as the light of their blades shining upon their faces Fearghul saw into the eyes of his opponent. Beneath them Fearghul felt every shudder of every parry, every thrust, every slash caused, and smiled again. The sheer energy he expended in each his blows was immense, a lesser Jedi would have faltered or at least be moved. In the opening moments Fearghul always weighed his opponent’s movements and power. The last being was Master S’tev’e. A worthy opponent but he expended far too much energy in useless motions, savage but uncoordinated. The Jedi before him that was a beautiful dance of skill, but lacked any ardor to win and triumph and thus Master Phongn fell as well. This one just stood his ground and made no notion that this was the extent of his abilities. In the end, it mattered little to Fearghul, since this was hardly the extent of his powers as well.

“So the little Jedi heard my summons?” Fearghul said as he pushed forward with his blade. Derith resisted with no obvious effort on his part, which in some small way frustrated and excited Fearghul. “Or perhaps my little pets were trying to kill someone close to you, and decided to enact righteous retribution?”

Derith said nothing and his face expressed no emotion. With a grunt he shoved his opponent away one handed, and settled back into his original position.

Fearghul raised an eyebrow, he could not understand what the Jedi’s game was but no matter, he would examine this when the boy was dead. With that his hate rose and he lunged forward, blade held high. With a single motion Derith’s green sword clashed with his. For the brief second they held each other at bay, unexpectedly to Fearghul, Derith shifted his weight ever so slightly, lowering his body and swept at Fearghul’s legs. The swords disconnected and Fearghul had lost his balance and was flailing onto his back. In that instant he saw that the green blade had twisted and twirled in the Jedi’s right hand and was about to impale his falling form. He pushed with the Force onto the floor, hearing the blade sizzle as it connected with the grating below, this allowed himself to twist his body midair out of the way of the deadly instrument. As he bolted up he saw the Jedi had regained his posture. Steady as ever and gazing at him, except this time gripping the saber with both hands.

Now that was a surprise to Fearghul, who was circling his foe, both the tactic and the fact that how he was standing in a different fashion. Perhaps the statement had touched something in the Jedi, but when he uttered the phrase he felt no echo in Force. He had not felt a stir of ego, or of hate, passion, but stranger still he felt no calm or stillness of focus. No matter how good the Jedi was, there was no possible way for him to disguise such feelings, not in combat. Yet, nothing from the Jedi, and for Fearghul this was something that confused him. Being calm was a show of the weakness of the Jedi, but when he reached over there, he felt nothing but a cold emptiness.

Fearghul lunged again with an overhead strike, fully expecting the parry and having locked blades with the Jedi. He pushed off ever so slightly as he took a step back. Derith for part made no emotion cross his face, as Fearghul backed off, then he spun to slice at a piece of metal that hurled towards him. Fearghul seeing this opening, lunged forward again with a thrust to the Jedi’s stomach. The large object was bisected easily, and with a twist of his body and saber, he took a moment to break the lock and slashed at Fearghul knees. The Sith lord leapt back to avoid getting cut himself. Fearghul expecting Derith to just hold his place was greeted by the sight of the Jedi rushing towards him, blade flashing in the air.

Fearghul met the charge of his oncoming opponent with a diagonal cut to the head which was parried with a clean hold of the other’s blade. The hissing of the two blades cooked the air as his opponent’s saber slide down his own. At the last instant of the clash, Derith thrust out and found his mark at Fearghul’s right forearm. The Sith lord’s only reaction was his eyes blazing hotter as he leapt back again. Derith made no reaction as he pressed another series of slashes which came at odd angles of oncoming left and rights with no real pattern, and seemingly made no sense. At one point a slash to the head, to a thrust to his legs and then another slash to his heart. With each blow, Fearghul took a step back trying to hold his position. He tried to summon his hate to hurl an object to break the Jedi’s rhythm but the pressure of the attacks had increased to a point he did not know if it would’ve made a difference. As he continued to counter each blow, the last in the series had their weapons away from each other bodies, which then suddenly a black boot came crashing into Fearghul’s nose.

Blood cascaded from the hit, as he heard the snap. Instead of backing away this simply fueled him forward and initiate a series of savage slashes at Derith’s head. With each parry, Fearghul became angrier, this foe had inflicted two wounds and he had not even touched his foe’s cloak, let alone his body. They danced tightly, when he with the last slash in the series, his foe aimed at his arms again, to which Fearghul easily parried but at the last moment Derith pulled back and slashed at his opponent’s left thigh.

That was the final humiliation, with a deafening roar, Fearghul rushed forward with a savage overhead slash. With each hit, he forced Derith back and the room itself shuddered with each blow, their blades illuminating the room easily. His blade descended with immense force as he channeled every feeling of hatred he could summon. He was a dark lord of the Sith, and this whelp of the Jedi Order was no different every other sack of meat he faced. Yet at the same time he could not break the man’s defense and this abominable thing did not speak or emit the feeling the rest of the lackeys of the Order did, and for the wounds he inflicted and the trouble he was giving him, he wanted to inflict his injuries ten fold. As his blade descended, Derith caught them into a bind. Fearghul pressed with as much hatred as he could bring to fold, with the surroundings feeling his efforts as they bent and groaned under the energy he emitted. Derith for a moment relented and bent at his opponent’s power. On one knee under Fearghul’s blade he thrust out his left palm into the air. It had look for a moment he made a fatal mistake and Fearghul began to capitalize when in an instant Fearghul felt something within the bowels of his stomach. Suddenly his feet lifted themselves a few inches off the floor. With a forward push from Derith, Fearghul’s body curled around the invisible force that hit him and it hurled him like a rag doll through the air, past the small platform’s floor into the darkness below it. No scream or moan escaped Fearghul’s lips, except a small smile.

Derith simply watched as he hurled the man through the air and leave the platform. He collected himself and walked to the opposite side of the platform and peered into the darkness below. He waited for a noise of something hitting the ground below. Nothing came to his ears. With his blade ready at his side, he cautiously leapt into the inky darkness, pursuing his foe.

Descending into the pit, he heard in the distance machines whining to life, and then small lights dimly lit the arena he was in. Much like the area he entered it was a mess pipes and steam hissing out of a variety of ventilation shafts. With the Force he didn’t need to see through his eyes, a power not common amongst all Jedi but for those who preferred combat, a very useful talent. Then he felt a chill presence, but could not properly place it. The Sith whoever he was had landed safely and was hiding and now probing. Derith grimaced since he had never excelled in the mental arts beyond what surface learning he had to acquire. Still he had learned tricks that his master taught him for any questioning Padawans and even a few masters to insure no one could invade him beyond what he wanted. He felt the probe try to invade deeper and he then stood still and closed his eyes as he began to track it back to its source as the voice in his mind began to talk.

“Ah so your name is Derith.” A voice from the darkness uttered. “I dimly am aware of you, Jedi; there are many tales of your adventures.”

Derith said nothing as his eyes opened and he stalked through the darkness, letting the enemy probe him further. “So why are you here? No, wait let me tell you. You are here to ah...very clever Jedi, very clever. Most would not use the old Sabacc trick. A weakness of yours perhaps?”

Derith continued and then tilted his head a bit, closing his eyes again. Letting his senses fill the chamber, feeling all the energy in the area. He nodded to himself after a few moments and turned into a darker section of the area.

“Poor show, Jedi. You’ll never reach me that way.” Fearghul said as he smiled. “You will find I am full of surprises.” He felt that Jedi was about to appear in front of him, to which he stepped from the alcove he sequestered himself in. He smiled and turned and found...nothing. Fearghul let his hate stretch outward and felt nothing, and then suddenly every sense within him tingled to life.

“And I, too.” Derith said as he rushed forward, the snap hiss of his blade coming to life. Fearghul immediately turned activating his own, when in his chest he felt a crushing pain. He concentrated his efforts to the feeling and heard a single rib snap. No scream came from his lips, instead a single snarl as he clashed with his foe’s blade. He pressed with all his might as the stood there. The walls and pipes around them groaned in protest and began to snap and tear themselves apart clouding the arena further with super hot steam. Derith gave one immense effort into a push which hurled Fearghul past the darkened ante room into the lit maintenance area.

Fearghul smiled as he was hurled back. He fully expected the Jedi to do such a thing, as he took a position in front of the access way to the lower levels. He would finally show this upstart that every blow was nothing more then a piece of luck as he filled himself with the Dark Side. In an instant he let the Force flow into the room, creating a cacophony of noise and wind. Every small piece of machinery and box came loose and hurled themselves in every direction creating chaos in their wake. As he opened his eyes, the Jedi had surprised him. Derith just stood there, and lowered his blade and stared at him in the middle of the maelstrom.

Fearghul smiled intensified the chaotic storm he had created and directed everything at Derith, but the storm continued it erratic movement. Fearghul raised an eyebrow, and smiled. Unexpected but very well, if the Jedi wished to play this game, so be it. Mid thought he lunged forward, saber held high, into the storm as the Jedi responded in a classic response. Shards of metal flew between the combatants as the danced at each other and the storm. Fearghul made a savage lunge and then had to dodge a large pipe shaft that was aimed at his head, only to duck under slash to his stomach. Derith for his part let the metal fall around him or simply lose any force and fall to the ground lifelessly, only to be summoned upwards by the energy the Sith Lord was emitting.

A huge piece of machinery was torn from its fixture and hurled towards the two combatants; Fearghul twisted his body to perfectly sidestep the object and gave no openings. Derith seeing the object hurling towards him with the added momentum the Sith Lord add forced it towards him, steeped back and then crouched and hurled his body above the object and rolled as hit the floor, Fearghul taking the obvious advantage rushed forward blade hissing downward. Derith shifted his weight to the right and had his blade crash and lock down Fearghul’s. He sprung up and twirled mid air catching Fearghul’s jaw with his heel and landed a meter away, rushing forward as Fearghul wiped a bit of blood from his mouth. At the last second he brought his blade up and close to him, as Derith’s green sword hissed mere centimeters from his face. With a concentrated effort, he pushed Derith off, and while the Jedi flung backward delivered a vicious kick to the stomach. Derith made no noise or release of air but took the advantage of Fearghul pulling his leg back in and thrust his blade straight for the heart of his opponent.

Fearghul barely shifted away, catching the tip of the blade as it singed his chest. He was unprepared for the next attack as Derith came crashing into him elbow first into his jaw. Before Derith could capitalize upon the situation, Fearghul flung a myriad of small tools and boxes at the Jedi. The tools sliced deep into Derith as he retreated from the attack. Fearghul took full advantage of is, ran towards him, blade held high, crashing in Derith’s. As they held their ground Fearghul realized that the maelstrom had stopped and stared at the Jedi, who pushed Fearghul off when the surprise of the display of power glazed over his face. Derith took the upper hand as he hurled himself into Fearghul’s mass and hurled them towards the far wall.

Fearghul summoned what energies he could before he was crushed by the door and flung a small box to the control panel. The door behind them hissed open and they tumbled forward into the yawning abyss before them.

The elevator tunnel for a few meters was durasteel, and then soon became a clear plastisteel tube that now was illuminated by Isolder74’s dual moons. Neither man was admiring the view as they continued to grapple, their lightsaber unable to make contact with the other opponent. Fearghul slammed the butt of his lightsaber across Derith lips, blood spilling from the wound. Derith slammed his head into Fearghul’s already ravaged nose, again and again. Fearghul in retaliation shoved his knee into Derith’s gut, making his foe vomit forth a small bit of blood. In response Derith expelled a burst of energy directed at Fearghul’s chest flinging him down faster and cracking another rib. The Sith lord smiled as he then straighten himself out and directed himself towards a small lit platform jutting out. He gracefully landed and looked up as his assailant was nearly upon him. With a single wave of his hand, a large piece of metal slashed out into the air forcing the Jedi to twist and dodge and avoid the platform completely. Fearghul smiled as he saw the Jedi tumble further into the abyss and calmly walked into the light.

Derith for his part calmed himself and forced himself closer to the wall, and slowed his decent. He then twisted to have his legs face the wall and pushed himself off of it at an upward angle, and proceeded to bounce towards his objective. With one last burst he grabbed onto the small platform and stood for a second as he regained himself.

He entered the lit room and was greeted by an expansive sight. The room was a vast circular area with immensely thick walls to separate it if something should happen to the volatile concoctions within it. If any such conflagration should happen the rest of the palace would be safe within its safeguarded walls. A myriad set of connecting bridges to a central pillar, where his foe beckoned him from, lightsaber in hand. Derith took a second to look around and noticed the numerous warning signs and the racks of tibanna gas, and realized why his opponent led him here. One false slash, could easily be their last as the flames would easily consume them both. He ignited his saber and moved forward slowly.

Fearghul smiled as the Jedi cautiously walked towards him, not run, not saunter but simply carefully make sure nothing disturbed the rest of the contents. He cracked his neck to the left and right and watched. Derith wondered at why his opponent’s lack of movement then out of nowhere the Force screamed to him and a small cylinder flew at him. His initial reaction was to slash at the offending object, but at his last second he pulled back as the cylinder explode with mere centimeters of him, igniting his clothes as he pulled his face away and the explosion sent him hurling through the air.

With the Jedi completely off guard, Fearghul sent another five in the man’s direction and then ran towards the conflict with a feral grin, this conflict had come to an end. Derith landed unceremoniously on his back, kippuped, and threw his cloak away as he felt the Force alert him to the other objects. He looked at Fearghul roar towards him and smiled. He saw the two tubes come from both his left and another two come in front of him, one heading from directly above. He tucked and rolled, and reached out with his saber to prematurely ignite the two in front of him. He then stretched his body and threw himself into the air as Fearghul slashed at him, who turned around to see Derith’s back completely exposed. He gave a fearsome roar and his blade was about to connect, when suddenly he turned to see that the three tubes that didn’t come into contact with his foe were being hurled at him. He focused himself for the briefest second to simply push the fusillades away, when Derith took the opportunity to deliver a roundhouse to his neck. Reeling, Fearghul instinctively swung his blade out at the air as the tubes came in contact with him. The explosion ripped him from the bridge onto the platform below.

Derith leapt after the Sith’s flaming form. Fearghul rolled and leapt onto his feet, the flames ceased, as he regained his footing. He immediately leapt into the fray with Jedi, bearing down upon his foe as they continued their dance. He slashed high and was parried, and then he twirled and continued his assault of slashes and thrusts unabated as he swept at the Jedi’s legs. Derith evaded and parried ever blow without effect and delivered a series of erratic slashes. Fearghul easily evaded many, parrying the rest, with the final being a clumsy slash to his head. He simply pulled his head away, and was about to thrust his own blade into the Jedi’s stomach, he didn’t notice the Jedi had stopped mid slash pulled into the other direction.

The green blade seared Fearghul’s yellow eyes.

He screamed a deafening roar as his first instinct was to lash out with all the power the Force had granted him. Winds howled an unnatural fury and the walls of the enclosure began to reverberate. Beneath their feet the bridges began to buckle and break. Derith held his ground barely as the telekinetic energy outpoured from the wounded Sith. When Fearghul had spent his fury and clutched his wounded eyes, the maelstrom stopped; his body a huddled mass on the floor. With that Derith walked forward, blade held to his side, as he got closer he could hear a low chuckle. He looked at the huddled being with his head crooked to the side, no expression across his face, and then his eyes widened as he heard every canister began to hiss. Fearghul’s chuckle began to escalate as Derith leapt up to the upper platform and he funneled every bit of the Force he could muster to escape the conflagration. He leapt out past the small platform, forcing the elevator walls to shatter and give way as the entire level was engulfed in flames. He flew through the air of the mountain like a stone into the lake below. The last noise in his ears before the water engulfed him was that laughter. His last thought before losing consciousness was Zaia looking at him with sad eyes.
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Dawn had cracked through the morning sky, dispelling any darkness of the night before. Lindar woke up from the chair she occupied in the room looking at 2K-AD who was in shut down mode. The explosion in the palace last night had set everyone in there in a flurry of motion. They had locked down all unneeded personnel. Only one time in the morning did Lady Tevar came to check on them, noticing Derith was not amongst them, she smiled quizzically and nodded as she left. She then looked at the bed and noticed that Crimson wasn’t in it. As she got up to find her, she heard a shuffle at the large window and saw her captain standing there staring out the window, chewing her lip.

“He’s not back is he?” Lindar said as she walked over to Crimson.

Crimson hugged her friend close to her, and let a single sigh out. “No, flyboy isn’t back yet.”

“You think...”

“Trying not to, Lindar, trying not to.”

“But?”

“He’s too stupid and stubborn to die.” Crimson said.

Lindar just nodded, as she peered out at the morning sun.
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On the steps of the palace a disheveled form calmly walked up towards the stairs. He noticed a great throng at the front of the palace. A column of troops had lined the two sides, both sides of distinct colors and uniforms. He noticed from his vantage that the left were the Bothans and the left were the silver armor of the Hapans, but what was behind them both was a uniform he could not recognize at this distance. It was a distinct yet spartan grey garb topped off with what looked like a small cap. He could see that the three primary figures before the throng were Lord Nitram, an unknown grey man, and Ro’bter. As he closed in, a pair of Hapan guards came up to him blocking his passage. He then heard Ro’bter screech and tromp down the stair with his entourage.

“This is not over, Nitram; I will see you and the entire Hapan consortium burns for this insult!”

Nitram nodded with a smirk on his face as the Bothan left to his shuttle in a distinct huff. The grey man beside him gave no expression as he flanked Lord Nitram. He then walked down to where Derith was and clasped him by the shoulder, noticing the wounds and tears in his clothing. He nodded to his guards who stood at ease.

“I heard what had happened last night and thought you were lost to us.” Nitram said.

“No, though I apologize for not being there when I was required.”

“Think nothing of it. You obviously stopped an assassin that was an agent of the Bothans from killing me, and for that anything can be forgiven.”

“Perhaps.” Derith said as he looked up at the grey man who had now stood next to Nitram. He noticed now, that the grey man was a Chiss by the eyes alone, yet the white uniform escaped him.

“Ah, yes...Admiral Valdemar. Derith Rider, Jedi Knight.” Nitram said as the admiral lent his hand out for a handshake. Derith accepted, still looking the man.

“To answer your obvious question Jedi, I am Grand Admiral Valdemar of the Imperial Renamant.”

“Now I recognize you, Lord Durandal was an admirer of yours.” Derith said as he shook the man’s hand.

“Indeed? I am pleased to hear I am appreciated in such august company.”

“So, my lord...I will presume this was your reason of not being concerned with the Bothans.” Derith said as he looked directly at Nitram with a small smile across his face.

“I am glad you are a quick study, but yes. You may report to Lord Durandal that all is in readiness.” Nitram said.

With that Derith bowed his head. Nitram excused him as he walked to the palace. When he entered the palace, Nitram looked at Valdemar.

“Is everything prepared?” Nitram said, concern crossing his face.

Valdemar smiled as he saw the Jedi walk away. “Indeed, this is the mark of a new era for both the Hapans and the Renamant...or more appropriately you and the Renamant.”
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Derith opened the door to Crimson’s room to be greeted with Lindar squealing and rushing towards him. He easily held her as she tackled him with a hug. She babbled an incoherent stream of how was he and was he okay. With simple hug, he let her go as he walked in and looked around. For the first time he looked at Crimson’s face which had the signs of lines across her face. He smiled as he walked into the closet. She leaned against the wall next to closet as Derith rummaged through the sets of clothes.

“So Flyboy, how did you find our room?” Crimson said with smile on her face.

“Like I said; your cheap perfume.”

Her frown melted, as she slammed on the door panel which nearly sliced Derith’s head, as he drew it back before it closed upon him. He looked at her with a slight frown and raised a single eyebrow as he adjusted chosen cloak over his shoulders.

“Let’s go, Lindar. Get the Falcon prepped so we can get off this mudball and drop this Jedi’s sorry carcass back onto Coruscant!” Crimson said as she stormed out the room.

Lindar looked at Derith and Crimson, shook her head with her lekku swaying and quickly followed her captain out of the room. With the noise of the door being slammed, 2K-AD came to life.

“Query: Did I miss something, meatbag?”
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Inside the shuttle that was now flying towards the Bothan fleet, Ro’bter stood with his two closest aides. His visage a angry and hateful glare as he contemplated the fact his entire plan had failed with the appearance of the Renamant fleet. Years of planning and cajoling had all gone to waste. He would remember this bald insult and he would make them pay.

It was just a matter of time.

To his side, a toady came up to him and offered some explanation he let drown with engine noise. He knew how perfect and intelligent he was and that was unneeded. He wanted answers to why they were retreating without firing a shot.

“I ask you again, commander why are we then retreating?” Ro’bter said with a disgusted look plastered on his fur lined face.

“Sir, they outnumber us two hundred to one. It would be a slaughter on an unimaginable scale. When you have convinced the council of this transgression then we can properly retaliate.”

“Pah...excuses.”

“Sir, with all due....” The commander was saying when he began to grip his throat. In a few seconds a sickening crack was heard to all but Ro’bter who was in his own personal delusion.

“I want solutions not ex...Commander?” Ro’bter said noticing that his aide had his tongue hanging from his mouth. Upon closer examination, he noticed there was no air coming from his mouth. Slowly the thought enter the Bothan’s mind. Just as suddenly it did, that thought met the edge of a red lightsaber.

Fearghul stepped back as the Bothan’s body fell into a pitiful heap. His scarred eyes giving no expression, no smile or expression crossed his moth either. He bore a new jagged scar along his left cheek. All of this mattered not to the Sith lord, since he intended revenge upon everything the Jedi held dear. These thought kept his body whole in spite of the injuries. Feeling that all life had left the Bothan he walked up to the communication console and inputted a series of commands. Within a second a small blue hologram stood before him on the ground. Fearghul instantly kneeled and bowed his head low.

“My lord, I have done what you commanded.” Fearghul intoned. “The war will happen as you have foreseen it.”

“Indeed, and I feel you have faced Derith, and failed.”

“For now, my lord.” Fearghul said, hatred welling in his heart.

The hologram chuckled. “Return to me my apprentice, there is still much we have to do, and this is but the start of our true plans.”

“Yes, Master Durandal.”

End of Dawn.

*taps forhwad in frustration* Why does that name sound familiar....*goes to where...* MEEP!

*applauds* Hurrah! Der whooped him!

Marvelous. Is Fearghul blind now? or does he have prothesetics of some kind?

Yeeha. Awesome duel.

Schweeeeeeeeeeeeeet. Very nice duel.

Rise

A hideous, deafening wail was in the air. It seemed to emanate from the screams of the dead mixed with the lonely howls of the dying and those would have existed. The voices all joined in a cacophony of loss and hatred.

In the distance a city beckoned him, its name was known to him, but for all he was he could not fathom its name. The once cerulean sky always had the appearance that there was a storm to break. It was that way all the time. The storm never did break. It just threatened to do so. The very withholding of the actual event implied that should the storm break, it would sweep away all of reality.

The storm broke.

At the entrance of the temple, a mass of flesh and bone that huddled there under a tattered black cloak. His eyes were assaulted by the color of rotten blood that was the sky, and the smell of million charring corpses filled his nose. He held back the bile and blood welling in him as he slowly rose; each pained move took from him a precious second more of life. Finally he tore his eyes away from the sky and they wandered about and glanced saw his lightsaber, shattered across the stairs. He felt as if he knew of these events, yet the familiarity escaped him. He took no notice of the object, his mind was focused elsewhere, elsewhen.

The air caressed his cheeks like knives. His eyes burned with suffocating smoke. For a moment he pricked his ears up, hoping to hear something above the hideous wail, a small sweet voice. He hoped in vain as all he could hear was the wail of the dying and the blaze of energy lancing through metal. With the sight of the death heading towards him, he tested the patience of his dying body. He continued his aimlessly search, straining through the haze with his eyes. Each exertion his body protested with a new sensation. His arms begged for rest as he felt the small bone shards swim through his blood. His legs refused to respond to move more then shuffling, but he willed the Force to hold his body as he moved forward. He stumbled and fell to be rewarded with an image he wanted to get away from, to not admit it was not real and not happening.

Auburn locks were spread gently across the charred white floor. Her head was face down in a growing pool of blood, with the rest of her body nearly unrecognizable except a few patches of charred clothing. He cradled the head with a single thought reverberating in his head of this cannot be real, and cannot be happening. The world began to descend into madness and melt away as tears fell from his eyes.

In the midst of the searing winds and screaming earth, a single being strode forth. What he wore was mostly unrecognizable except a cape and his midnight black boots. As he stomped through up the stairs, his footfalls were amplified a thousand fold, quenching the screams and the sound of the green rain. When he reached the apex and gazed down at the pitiful creature, he shook his head.

If one gazed back into his eyes you would see no soul, or any feelings but empty darkness. He let a small sigh as a single hiss came from his tube he held in his hand. The small huddled creature before him looked up with horror, recognizing the face. The being gave a small smile across his cracked lips and raised his blade high.

“Only in the end, do you truly understand...brother.” With that the blue sword came down.

Derith’s eyes flung open and he sat up in his small bunk crashing into a beam above him. No sound came from him, but a high pitched female yelp came from the doorway. Inside he wondered, what did all mean since the same such dream occurred just a couple days ago. Inside though, he had a cold feeling in the pit of his stomach, fear. It was a sensation he despised and actively avoided, since fear lead to irrational actions and emotions. He willed it away, by telling himself that it was just undue stress over the events that preceded his mission and was just a point of his mind being taxed in the last couple days. He rubbed the bridge of his nose as he looked for the other voice. In the hatchway Lindar winced at his injury.

“Ouchies.” Lindar said as she walked over.

Derith smiled and began to focus on the now. The dream would have to wait and would ultimately mean nothing, or so he hoped. He knew a single dream has always been a dream...except that one time, but that was many years ago.

As he closed his eyes and exhaled he reviewed the events of the past couple days and what he would tell the Jedi Council. His report would mark a success, but he wondered how the Council and Durandal would react to hearing the Hapans or more specifically Lord Nitram allied himself with the Renamant. The Sith lord was another matter entirely. He didn’t doubt the survivability of the Sith lord, even though he did not feel a flicker of the Force after the explosion, that could be said he wasn’t feeling much of anything except the cool water after a near kilometer crash into the lake below.

He opened his eyes and looked at Lindar and then realized their time back was taking at least a whole day longer. “Haven’t we reached Coruscant, yet?” Derith said.

“Nope, we are taking one of the boss’ special....sneaky hyperspace tricks.”

“Sneaky...how?” Derith said, raising an eyebrow at the idea.

“She takes a lot of back routes, through some very nasty sectors, lots of gravity wells and a few other hazards.” Lindar said, offering a small smile.

Derith shook his head. As he was collected his cloak he perked his nose into the air. He continued taking in large breaths as Lindar broadened her smile.

“Smells good, doesn’t it?” Lindar said, walking out of the bunk area.

“Certainly not a scent I can readily identify. What is it?” Derith said following her.

“Breakfast, silly!” Lindar said as she bounced past the dining area into the galley. In the small and messy room was a single grime riddled table with four seats around it. The place had not seen a proper cleaning in many months and had a smell of mildew and mold floating in the air. On each of the ripped and torn cushions were small nearly indecipherable nametags taped to the top of the seat. Derith peered closer to the seat as Crimson groaned a greeting and proceeded to slump her head down again. Her hair was a complete mess with a small bit He saw that the one labeled before him was guest. He walked over and saw that the other had her name on it, and he presumed underneath Crimson’s derriere was her name. In the kitchen he could hear Lindar humming some unknown tune, happily.

“Shouldn’t you be in the cockpit?” Derith said as he gingerly sat down on the seat marked guest.

Crimson raised enough of her head that she barely saw through her eyes. “Oh no, 2K-AD is handling the arrangements, thanks for the concern.” She grumbled.

“Given that I can tell from your breath, its cheap juma juice from...Telos?” Derith said as he leaned closer to her. “No, wait Ri’tan...I guess I should both congratulate that you’re up and about and tell you to lay off the cheap stuff. But one you’re already feeling, so I’ll just say bravo.”

“Yeah, thanks flyboy.” She muttered as she put her face back into arms again.

Derith just rolled his eyes a bit and walked behind her. He placed his hands against her temples and closed his eyes. Feeling his hands against her head, Crimson peeked behind her.

“If this is some weirdo Jedi mating ritual because I’m drunk, you can...” Crimson said.

“Will you be quiet and hold still for a second?” Derith said as he slowed his breathing to a dull whisper.

“What are you...GAH!” Crimson said as she felt a surge of electricity flow through her. She leapt up straight from the chair, breaking the hold. Derith stepped back and gave a small smile as she turned and glared at him, breathing hard. She reared back into a defensive position then realized, all the haze, all the pain, everything gone. She hadn’t felt this good in days.

“You’re welcome.” Derith said as he patted her cheek and went back to his seat. Crimson gave herself a quick check all over her body. “And next time when you drink that much, you shouldn’t challenge the droid to see who can hold their liquor the longest.”
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Night began to fall again on Coruscant and the few natural lights dimmed to make way for Coruscant’s immense physical display of energy and light. Under the evening sky one could almost feel how much power Coruscant truly had, the lights dimming out the stars themselves and the ships that flew throughout her and into her were brief specks compared to her.

Zaia was walking out of an enclosed room with her Padawan, Maya. Maya wasn’t a stark difference from her master, but the differences were interesting. For one, her black hair was noticeably shorter, a cut that stopped about midway between her neck and shoulders. Her eyes were a deep almond and separated a bit wider the usual but worked perfectly well within the rest of her face. She wore a single braid in accordance to the ancient Jedi ways but had no other jewelry or anything else. Her robes were a plain dusky brown texture with a brown cloak on her shoulders, and she had yet to truly construct her own lightsaber so none was on her waist.

“Now Maya, you will have to practice the music again, a few beats were definitely off and some parts were overextended in parts.” Zaia said as she smiled at her apprentice.

“I will, Master Sho’sar.” Maya said with a bow.

Zaia was about to continue her critique when she noticed that I’Brat was standing in the hallway tilting her head. I’Brat was in a nice form hugging red dress, it appeared to be either nerf leather or carrian, with red high heels to compliment. On her arm was a small black purse. Zaia then realized perhaps the lesson had taken a bit longer then she originally intended and had nearly missed the dinner she promised her friend.

“That’ll be all, my Padawan.” Zaia said as she dismissed her Padawan. As Maya began to run off to meet her friends, Zaia stopped her. “But I want you back early tomorrow for the next lesson. And no, young lady...saying your boyfriend is giving you a great and thorough check up doesn’t count!”

Maya looked at her feet with a bright red coloring her tanned skin. “I wouldn’t think of it, Master.”

“Go on, I’m sure, you and he have something special planned.” Zaia said, and with that Maya gave one last enthusiastic bow and ran off in a flutter of robes and cape. I’Brat walked over shaking her head, smiling.

“I’m sorry for that Ibie but she was having particular problems with a piece and I felt that if we...” Zaia said when I’Brat just shook her head. “What?”

“You don’t have to apologize for wanting to help your Padawan. What do you think I’m Durandal where I want you to justify every second?” I’Brat said as she embraced her friend in a laugh and a hug. When they broke off, they shared another chuckle as they walked through the corridors of the Jedi Temple. “So remember we were to go a night on the town, or did you figure you were going to get all the men drunk enough to ignore that you’re wearing your work clothes.”

Zaia straightened up and putting two balled up fists on her waist she struck a mock stern pose and tone, as Padawans passed by. “These are the honored robes of the Jedi Order, dear lady. I wear them in the time honored tradition of a thousand thousand years that our Order has staved off any sense of fun and plunged the galaxy into a sense of eternal boredom!”

I’Brat kept laughing and shook her head with once. “Where or rather whom did you get that from?”

“Oh, it was from a friend.” Zaia said shifting her eyes away as she continued walking.

“Who?” I’Brat said cheerfully, and with that her friend stopped again, and visibly slumping her shoulders. “Oh.”

Zaia offered a wan smile as she turned to face her friend, who just shook her head. “It’s okay I am over him.”

I’Brat waved off her apology and hugged her again. She propped Zaia’s head onto her left shoulder as she comforted her. “Why aren’t you spending time with Kuja? I mean I love that you want to spend time with me, but it has to be a bit of time since you and Kuja have done anything. Nowadays he always seems busy constantly practicing and asking the Council.”

“Ibie!” Zaia said as she playfully shoved off her friend.

“Well, you two don’t you? Or do you just cuddle and bask in the Force?” I’Brat said with a mock smile and a wink.

Zaia looked to her left and right as they traveled down the Temple and in a low whisper. “No, we do...but I prefer that it kept between the two of us and friends. Not have the entire temple know what goes behind our doors.”

“Oh, like anyone listens.”

“Given how many Padawans stare at us?” Zaia said, crooking an eyebrow up.

“Okay, so maybe a few...okay so you don’t want most of the Padawans listening.” I’Brat said with a smile and a shrug.

“Exactly, Maya got swarmed the instant she was known to be my Padawan. So please if you would be so kind.” Zaia said with a bright smile.

I’Brat just shook her head, as they walked down past the Silver fountains. “So where is Kuja?”

“Kuja, Elheru and a few others have decided they need to brush up on their techniques of swordplay.” Zaia said.

“Again?” I’Brat said as she shook her head. “Well I hope they are doing it with one hand because they’ll start needing those techniques given their current track record. And to think Kuja has a perfectly beautiful sparring partner.”

Zaia chuckled and nodded. “Though it amazes me, they are trying to emulate an idol who isn’t quite that insane or devoted.”

“What do you mean? You’re telling me when he wasn’t on some mission he didn’t spend every waking hour simply playing with his lightsaber?” She said with a coy smirk.

“Derith never did that many sword sessions for his own use; many of those were because Durandal was a taskmaster. Most of his finer skills were through many an arduous session of painstaking field work. Though we had many a...private session as well, when he wasn’t on a mission.” Zaia replied with a saucy wink and lilt in her voice. “Anything that was similar to a voluntary training session, he would have found rather distasteful when there is so much more a Padawan could do.”

“Honest?” I’Brat said, her eyebrows crinkling.

“Oh very much so.” Zaia said with a coy smile.

“When he wasn’t on a mission.” I’Brat said.

“When he wasn’t on a mission.” Zaia rolled her eyes a bit as she tilted her when she looked at I’Brat, who shrugged her shoulders. “Honest, when he wasn’t on some damned mission. He was perfect.”

“That’s a rare sight and thought.” I’Brat simply nodded and sighed happily. “Well it’s nice to know he wasn’t all mission, remember his mantra?”

“The one about him, that he does his duty so that others may not suffer?”

“His mantra even to you was he does what he does so other may not die and fail.”

“True, but he follows that oath to the fullest. In that way it can be admired.”

“Sure, when you’re on the outside.” I’Brat said.

“On the outside. At times he had to be nearly killed for him to stay here.” Zaia said. “Sometimes I wondered if he stayed because he was forced to and not because of love.”

“I don’t know what to say but I thought he truly loved you.”

“I thought that to, but when I asked him he practically ran to the next mission. I believe at times he just was in love with thought that we were a couple and that’s why he was so supposedly perfect.”

“I can believe that. Except for you and your stories, I would believe he only lived for his missions and just had a stick up his ass because of that.”

“Not always, I believe at one time, he had to push the stick up there.” Zaia said as she smiled.

“Such barbs.” I’Brat smiled as they entered the elevator to the lower levels, where the personal quarters lay. “You are indeed learning young Padawan.”

“Learning? I will have you know I was the master long before I met you.” Zaia said as she entered the elevator.

“Strangely Connor always said he wasn’t always that way.” I’Brat said. “But he never said what happened, he just drones off, and then he...what?”

“Connor said?”

“Yes, and no what I did last time was just to get a rise out of him. Are you still trying to play matchmaker?”

“Who’s trying?”

I’Brat just rolled her eyes at the thought. “Nevertheless, Connor once in the middle of one of our chats did say Derith actually at one point smiled and everything...outside of battle.”

“That’s something else, I never really saw Derith fight.”

“Hmm?”

“Well, Connor indicated last time that he was friends with Derith, but he was scared because of combat. And I thought, we’ve only seen him spar, never on a mission. So I wondered, what would be the difference?”

As they walked out of the elevator, I’Brat stopped and just stared. “The difference? You of all people have to ask?”

Zaia tilted her head in exasperation as she rolled her eyes up avoiding contact. “Fine, I remember all of Marina’s lessons but I really mean it. I’ve seen him spar against even Master Wilson. Are you trying to tell me he’s that much different?”

“I don’t know but Connor seemed to think so, something for another day. So that’s enough wondering about these three idiots.” I’Brat said as they stopped in front of Zaia’s quarters. “Now go, get into something slinky and sexy and get us a man or two.”

“I already have one.”

“Right, and currently he and bunch of other boys are circle jerking at honing their lightsaber skills. Okay, I want a man or two. And you can use the time to have some real fun instead of wondering where your man is! So go, and come out ready to knock all those poor unsuspecting men down!” I’Brat said as shoved Zaia into the doorway.
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“Oh by the all spice in Corellia, this is fantastic! I haven’t had orgasms this great!” Crimson said as she had a face of pure euphoria.

Derith for his part just nodded and continued trying to identify the scent. It smelled something like fruit composite but at the same time he detected flour.

“Y’know, you could bottle this stuff and call it ‘Force Orgasms’....no, too forward. How about something...”

“How about you just say thank you and we leave out your sexual history out of it?”

“Spoilsport.”

Derith chuckled as Lindar enter the dining area with a smock and plate of steaming pile of small flat cakes of some sort. “Breakfast is served!”

Lindar placed the large platter in front of the two of them, smiling as she went back into the kitchen to get plates and utensils. Derith for his part just stared at the items, gingerly picking on of the flat cakes up and scrutinizing it. Crimson cocked her head to the side as she looked at Derith.

“What? Never saw a pancake?”

“No, I’ve seen pancakes before. But I’m trying to figure out why there are blue and green pieces in these.”

“You’re kidding!” Crimson said she grabbed one and upon closer inspection, what she thought might have been an aftereffect of the euphoria, wasn’t. There were tiny green and blue specks and the smell finally hit her. It was both cloying and sour at the same time and for the life of her she couldn’t begin to identify any of it. “Lindar, what did you do to these pancakes?”

“I made them special!” Lindar said from back in the kitchen. More noise was heard with a distinct crashing noise.

“Special she says. Well let’s hope its something tasty and not some two year old glitterstim particles.” Crimson said as she gingerly put the pancake down back onto the plate.

“Glitterstim?” Derith said with a cocked eyebrow as he put his pancake back onto the plate as well.

“Yes, I used to smuggle all sorts of illegal goods, you have a problem with that, flyboy?”

“Not really, but it must’ve been many years since you could call yourself a smuggler.”

“Well...what?”

“Oh, believe me you made a very good impression with the junk ship, the silly mechanic, the co-pilot. But having one that is an assassin protocol droid from a forgotten line of droids is definitely not a step into being the smuggler.”

“I have no idea what you’re saying.” Crimson said rolling her eyes away.

“Okay, then tell me how did you get the Millennium Falcon ?”

“It’s a cheap replica of it, it keeps most the patrols off guard.”

“No, it isn’t.”

“Right, I’d like to see your proof of this.”

“Under my bunk was a small hidden compartment that I found last night. Not big enough for a blaster but large enough for a small box.”

“And in this box was obviously the irrefutable proof you sought? Crimson said confidently with a big smirk on her face.

“Hardly, the irrefutable proof is that the YT-1300 model was out of date around seven hundred years ago and even getting a replica would have cost you in the upwards several hundred thousand credits since it would mean to literally build the thing from scratch.” Derith said with a smile. “But in this said compartment was a small keepsake box, with the name Solo on it. Also after opening said sealed object was a few keep sakes. Such as lock of Wookiee hair, and small keepsake picture of Chewie written on it.”

“Ummm...well I could’ve had a pet Wookiee.” Crimson said, looking away. “Okay, okay...why do you want to know?”

“The historian’s side of me wants to know, since the Falcon is older then a thousand years yet here we are and not being hurled into a star.”

“Well, that part is easy to explain. Lindar and I modified the entire interior of the Falcon . She’s still very testy but we decided to make sure the outside still looks like the old YT-1300 designs. Did you know this thing eventually ended up with five droid brains, and all of them were complaining to each other?”

Derith just raised an eyebrow at the thought.

“Anyways, so how did I come across her? Easy. This generation of the Solo family still has the gambling love, but none of the luck.”

“So literally a game of Sabacc and he gave up the greatest family heirloom one could possibly inherit?”

“Oh no, at first it was pure credits. He owed Bla...he owed a lot. So he tried his luck with me at the time. And let’s say after about five or six hands he was going to start selling off body parts.”

Derith nodded as Lindar came in with plates and forks. She plopped herself into her seat and grabbed the first pancake and coated the thing with some syrup and sugar.

“So instead of losing an arm or his family jewels he offers me something that he claimed was invaluable. I thought it was going to be maybe some small moon or maybe some backwater Outer Rim planet. Nope, he offers the Falcon . He was so sure of this, he goes everything or nothing.”

“So why take him on the offer?”

“Flyboy, it’s THE Millennium Falcon ! I mean there is no greater piece of galactic history in the past one thousand years, heck this ship is a part of some the greatest battle in Galactic history. So I of course let him ante up.”

“You obviously won.”

“Flyboy, I am telling the story, so let me. So after he offers up, we did our few hands and then I get Sabacc, and then she’s mine!”

“Fascinating, no amazing reversals, no last minute small cheat, no anything of that sort?” Derith said raising an eyebrow.

“I have never cheated...at least not at Sabacc.” Crimson said with her arms crossed, staring at Derith with a huff in her eyes.

“Of course not. So that explains the ship, care to explain the assassin droid?”

“Lindar cobbled him together.” Crimson said nervously. Lindar happily bobbed her head up and down as she continued eating.

"So what exactly is the blue and green sparkles, Lindar?" Derith said as he continued to eye the pancakes.

"Oh it a special mixture of Devorian rincefruit and leftover moonglow." Lindar said cheerfully.

Crimson looked around frantically as she rushed out of the dining area.

"Moonglow is one of the deadliest and rarest fruit in our galaxy and you just slapped it into your mixer?"

"Hmmm?" Lindar said as she took another bite.

"Are you sure it's a Moonglow fruit?" Derith said as he noticed no violent reactions were seen from Lindar, though in the distance he could hear Crimson's wretchings.

"The can said it was." Lindar said as she crooked her head thinking back.

"Lindar, that's just moonglow flavored mango...not moon...nevermind." Derith for his part just smiled as he grabbed a pancake and placed one on his plate. He had gotten at least some of what he wanted, the rest could wait. These were minor concerns compared to what weighed on his mind.

Yay, my internet is up and working again long enough for me to say how great this chapter is!

Nice to finally get a glimpse of what's going on behind my back.

In a word: Sweet!

*claps laughing* HURRAH! I like that! wish headaches were really that easy to cure....

2-2

A thousand shining daggers hung in low orbit over Isolder74. Each one of these massive machines was capable of handling a small planet on their own, each one endowed with enough firepower of sundering a civilization. Gun ports and other sundry armaments bristled like a thousand needles on the craggy surface of these ships, as they cut through the darkness. The smaller ships sauntering around these fortresses varied in shapes both elegant and gross, serving every function of support to reconnaissance. Formidable opponents themselves, but nothing compared to their larger wedge shaped brethren.

Flitting between and around all these behemoths were thousands upon thousands of quad triangle winged, balled cockpit fighter craft. They were the TIE Guardian, the newest symbol of the Renamant. In this vast fleet, one immense ship stood out in particular, the Indomitable . She overshadowed any of her lesser brethren as she strode among them like a colossus.

Valdemar stared out into the vastness of space. His red glowing eyes tracked everything, focusing on nothing as the buzz of the throng worked around him. He stood that way for an hour on the bridge of the Indomitable . He accepted no incoming messages, and all such matters were handled by Captain Korr. Korr for his part did what he thought would be acceptable to his commander, as he looked over the latest reports he requested on their current combined fleet.

“Captain, the information you requested a day ago.” The boy said as he approached his captain. Korr held his hand out, waiting. He took it and began file through the pages as he gave the older one to the ensign.

“Is this all you’ve gotten from our investigations?” Korr continued scanning the datapad, his eyes never wavering.

“Yes sir.” The ensign said.

“You can go.” Korr said. With that, the ensign broke his reverie, shook his head, saluted briskly and walked off.

Korr let the boy walk off in silence as he read the report. He had his technicians find all they could through the Hapan resources and network of spies about the Bothan and the relevant sources, and the numbers still disturbed him. Though in his mind, he had a feeling it never once disturbed his commander. For him it likely all fell into place like a perfect game of Dejarak.

Korr shook his head again; at least his crew’s efficiency was a slight mark up from the time when they were hiding upon some unknown orders. His eyes swept the bridge and he noticed that they had more co-ordination, especially since the rumors are that they would soon see battle. When they jumped into the system and were greeted with the thought of battle, they demonstrated a keener quality of assimilating the situation and assessing the enemy as per their stations. A marked improvement about when they were greeted by the Alliance task force. He still didn’t understand that particular bit of destruction or why they sat there, but the admiral did and he didn’t question where the admiral received his orders.

He gave himself a small yet tight smile. They would need to be prepared given the rattling of sabers was likely to escalate into something larger, especially if the reports from their allies; the Hapans had any truth to them. They were preparing for war, and the admiral had the moffs agree to this plan. For him, he thought the risks were too great but he could not deny that his commander was correct, the Renamant needed to do something or be condemned to permanent obscurity.

“Intriguing circumstances that have allowed events to perpetrate to this level, is not Captain Korr?” Valdemar said gazing out the main window.

“I suppose, but I still have some questions.” Korr continued to read the data pad.

“Such as?” Valdemar said, raising an eyebrow but not diverting his gaze from the window.

“Several, one of the foremost being one that I brought up earlier of our occupation of sect...”

“And as I stated, I will inform you of my conclusion when I have come to one that is satisfactory to me. Having rumors even to a small elite circle is counterproductive in any sense of the word.” Valdemar finished his subordinate’s thoughts. “What are the ones of current relevance?”

“There are some disturbing facts I have learned from our information gathering of Isolder’s databanks.” Korr placed down the pad and looked directly at Valdemar.

“Ah, so you found out the discrepancy.” Valdemar said, with a tight smile.

“Sir?” Korr said crooking his head to the side. He raised a single eyebrow at the revelation.

“When I was on Isolder74, I did some personal research and found a most interesting set of circumstances. With a quick cross reference, I found that indeed something was amiss with Isolder74’s position as well as importance. You must have already learned of it from the latest data report you have received.”

Korr blinked and nodded.

“It’s simple my dear captain, someone has actually given the Bothans a prize to fight for.” Valdemar said his eyes tracing the movements of a squadron of starfighters.

“But why?” Korr said.

“That I have a theory. Apparently at one point about maybe one, two standard years ago...perhaps more. Nonetheless someone or a collaboration of people had made a pact with either Black Sun or some other organization to raid certain hyperspace lanes at an increased rate.”

“Black Sun?” Korr said tapping a finger on his lips, trying to find in his mind the organization’s name.

“Yes, the largest criminal syndicate within the known galaxy. They still exist, albeit in far less overt terms then in the distant past.” He gave a tight smile, turning to face the captain. “Still, it matters little since the result was the same, an increase in Isolder74’s traffic and an immense loss for the outlying sectors.”

“And the Alliance and the Jedi allow this?” He asked with his face contorting in a mess of features as he tried to grasp what his commander was revealing.

“They do not allow what cannot be destroyed. Do not be so naïve, captain. Black Sun exists as long as sentient life exists, merely taking a different name if need be. Do not believe at any one moment that even in the legendary times of the New Order was there anything stemming the flow of illegal activities. You know as well as I there are entire sectors devoted to criminal cartels, so your ignorance to Black Sun may be warranted but not this ponderous thought of some pathetic conspiracy theory.” Valdemar clipped out.

“My apologies, I had thought that the Alliance or any reigning government would have cracked down upon them.” Korr said as he nodded in deference.

“Perhaps they have tried, but the fact remains. Black Sun still stands. Nonetheless the point is irrelevant, we are discussing that they may be a part of the cause, not anything more.” Valdemar said calmly.

“Correct, but why would anyone want this said situation to happen?”

“The end result initially was very simple. Someone wanted to make it a target.” Valdemar said with a smile as he turned around.

“That’s a rather large leap, admiral.”

“Is it? Think about where Isolder74 sits.” The admiral asked with a single raise of his black eyebrow.

“Within the Hapan consortium....ah I see now.” Korr said as he nodded.

“Exactly, whoever started this still needed to keep pretense, and still make Isolder74 a viable target for a more...military level operation.”

“Perhaps the Bothans?”

“Perhaps, but I doubt it on the matter that they would have preferred a less...noticeable system, and especially tenacious people to invade for their initial effort.” Valdemar said. On his wrist he pressed a small button which allowed for a small globe of energy to leap from the floor and project a tiny sector screen in front of the two of them.

“So we are looking at who benefits most, perhaps someone within the Hapan consortium or perhaps us.” Korr said tapping his lip as he stared at the hologram.

“Very astute, captain. I have doubts it would be a moff since there are other choices for alliances, but the possibility exists, and as for a Hapan conspiracy, I have doubts of that since they have no idea of this fleet.” Valdemar said, nodding at Korr.

“Perhaps someone did merely to have an alliance.”

“Why have you come to this conclusion?” Valdemar said, focusing his glowing eyes upon his captain. For his part Korr didn’t flinch, standing his ground. He continued to collect his thoughts as he looked at the screen, forming the correct thoughts and words.

“Two things, one like you indicated our fleet was unknown all but to the moffs. This could mean they wanted an alliance based on your recommendation and perhaps forced certain manipulations to favor someone asking for aid.” Korr said as he circled the map.

“Continue.” Valdemar said as he his lips began to tug to the sides of his face.

“Also, I noticed from last time that all and any expansion from the Bothans was primarily towards this sector. That and add their military build up; they would clearly favor their use of military force, if so allowed. Thus the possibility exists that some Moff wished to play both sides of the Dejarak board as the saying goes.” Korr said as he stopped and observed the map again.

“Very good, captain.” Valdemar said as he nodded. Korr stood straighter after that compliment.

“So what do you believe?”

“Myself? I had originally suspected a moff, but the problem with that is why the Hapans? The Bothans may not wish an alliance, but the Corellians might, and in fact there are other powers who would, and without the overburden of purposefully creating a target. I firmly believe there is a player, unknown to us within the Hapans.” Valdemar noted as he looked at the map.

“But you said they had no ideas of this fleet?” Korr said crinkling his brow at his admiral.

“I did, does not mean one of them would not take the gamble.”

“Ah, well it would be very risky but I could see it.”

“Elucidate for me, then.” Valdemar said as he raised an eyebrow.

“The Hapans or someone high enough wanted an alliance wherein the other party may not have any real power militarily but would use it as a sign against the Bothans in the political court.”

“This invariably answered your other thoughts on this matter.” Valdemar answered. Korr blinked a couple times. Valdemar took no notice and continued. “So in the end we are faced with either a conspiracy from the Bothans, the Renamant, or the Hapans. The facts point to either the Hapans or the Renamant because they would be the only ones to know of certain pertinent facts. This bears continued investigation.”

“It does indeed, sir.” Korr said collecting his thoughts.

“Unfortunately, in the coming months you will not have that chance.” Valdemar said, turning to once again gaze at the fleet.

“Sir?”

“The assassination was the only trigger needed to justify what will come. In the end we will soon be facing a conflict that most these cadets have only read about in history texts.” Valdemar said as he watched a squadron make their maneuvers.

Korr nodded silently as his gaze fell over the entire bridge crew. They were a good crew, but they were unknown to anything that came close to true warfare. “Do truly believe it will come to war, regardless of what the Senate proclaims?”

“Much like the treaty, a pointless formality; they wanted war or some sort of conflict resulting in conquest.” Valdemar said with no fanfare.

“Still I have to wonder how the Alliance will react. Will they just simply side with the Bothans because of the Renamant’s involvement or side with us because of the formalities that the Hapans pursued and that we are the defenders?” Korr asked stepping up to the window and looking out at the gathered fleet.

“We will see. I anticipate the reaction regardless, since our benefactor has promised more ships and even without that we are more then ready for the Bothans.”

“How can you be so certain?”

“I could entertain you by saying I studied their art, and analyzed them to perfection, but I won’t.” Valdemar said with a small smile across his lips. “I will say this; they have no idea of how to apply force when needed, they apply warfare similar to how they apply spy craft and diplomacy. Only when truly riles do their colors show and when that happens with us, it will be quite fatal. When it comes to war, they only have a few exceptions in that department, and in this generation almost none to speak of any worthiness.”

“You sound as if you have already won the battle.” Korr said.

“Not the battle, my dear captain, the war.”

--------------------------------------------------------------------


Kuja was always described in glowing terms. Brilliant, a cunning and canny diplomat, energetic but as he slowly walked towards the Jedi temple, smoothing out his hair and his cloak he felt none of those. Today he knew in his heart that his request would come true and with that his first step to a promise fulfilled. Looking to the bright gleaming towers that the sun’s rays illuminated he contemplated that today may be indeed the first day of his life as a true Jedi, the trials that laid ahead he told himself would be greater then anything preceding and he kept convincing himself he was willing to sacrifice anything. His mind rolled with the possibilities of what could happen and what might happen. Nonetheless he told himself, he was doing this for the greater good. He would not fail those he swore to.

He was touched with a bit of his trademark tenacity today, but none of the diplomatic nonchalance he was known to have or charm that he normally exuded. Aside from the anxiety clouding his thoughts, last night practice was a waste in hindsight. Literally all he practice the form till he felt that he was perfect and still some of the finer points eluded him. He knew both Cyran and Aran’s styles far too well. There were no surprises and their respective masters were both more geared toward research then any true form of lightsaber fight techniques. Cyran considered it to be an unwanted distraction and Aran, while competent, was more a hobbyist. That and because of that, his call to Zaia last night was less then friendly on her side. He truly could not understand why she was so angered by that he wanted to continue his studies, to prepare himself. Once he was with Derith’s apprenticeship he would devote more time to her, but until then he needed to devote his energies to this particular task.

He continued to brood upon these thoughts as he entered the massive structure. Remembering to meet his friends at Durandal’s statue was foremost on his agenda as he strode through the halls. He wondered as he passed the greats how did they ever deal with things such as women, and then flashed in his mind, perhaps they were celibate monks trapped in their ivory towers contemplating the will of the Force. Shaking his head, he laughed the thought off. No one would be so inane or ignorant to deny what they were. Control was one thing, but denial made the temptation greater and far more vulnerable to them. To believe that they would not venture to feel love because it could lead to anger? One should venture to have no feelings at all then because any interpretation could lead to something more volatile. Serenity is one thing, but is something to aspire for, not to deny everything you are to simply try to acquire something you will never be. Obviously this line of thought was a gross exaggeration of the Jedi of that age and was more of legend then reality. The truth becomes more apparent when one looks at Skywalker’s time and sees the dearth of marriages between Jedi. Since the few surviving records after the Great Darkness indicate that he was taught by Obi Wan Kenobi, the greatest Jedi master of old, obviously he was passing on their teachings.

He could as he approached see that his two compatriots were critiquing the statue. For him, he tend to avoid that since he once tried and literally got a tongue lashing from Verilon that made him question his manhood, an event he’d rather not repeat. His friends on the other hand were getting glares he knew were not the sign of a pleased man, so he girded himself for the worst and strode forward.

“All I am saying is that it was just such...an illogical choice to remove that much of the statue in so few days because of a couple remarks.” Elheru said as he looked at the half completed statue. “Yet, you kept the head, why?”

Verilon looking as both Mitth and Utsa were steadying another part of the chest; and looked at the two Padawans before him. In his mind churned a thousand biting remarks for the two, but now was not the time to devise new or more terrible curses for them. He had a project that he needed to see completed and he had already given his reasons, he supposed one more time would possible enter their durasteel heads and pierce their ignorance.

“Because I, and note this Padawans, I felt it was incomplete to my ideas.” Verilon said as he bore his eyes into Elheru. For the most part the brown haired Padawan just shook his head and went back examining the structure. Cyran for his part continued to scratch his black hair and stare at the work, comparing to what he had seen earlier.

“But I don’t...” Cyran was about to say when Kuja intervened.

“Perhaps we are not seeing Master Verilon’s vision because we are not informed perhaps of what he trying to portray within the statue of Master Durandal.”

“Very diplomatic and very wrong.” Verilon answered with a thin smile. Kuja raised an eyebrow as his two friends flanked him. “My point was that in the end I am the final arbiter of how something looks of my design, and I do not care for when a group of Padawans presume they know better. So please you can admire and envision however you want to, but I am not here to have anyone force their ideas upon what I think is right or wrong on a statue.”

“And like we said, it was illogical to scrap the statue at so close to completion. It’s a waste of time and resources.” Elheru said as he stood forward. Kuja for his part just sighed.

“Ah, so you believe I design and create my works around a sense of numerical logic?” Verilon asked as he held out a hand steadying a stone that Shroom was shifting into place.

“Are you telling me that you just construct yours on the thought of that you have unlimited resources without a single concern of what is at hand?” Elheru said with a look of pure astonishment on his features.

“No, but you seem to think that one reconstructive effort was somehow beyond this project’s reach. Are you thinking I had only enough resources for one possible draft?”

“No, but it seemed illogical...”

“I see I have to repeat myself for the ignorant little Padawan. I am the final arbiter for my works. Not Master Wong, not the Jedi Council, not the Alliance Senate. I am. And as of late, they have all been very pleased with my work. So what were you saying about my illogical reasoning again of the allocation of resources?”

“All I was saying...” Elheru tried to blurt out as Verilon bored into him

“You were saying that because I wanted to ensure a closer refinement of my vision that I was making an illogical choice, because you of course know all the resources allocated to me and what levels I was using them at. Please Padawan inform me again how you know more of this project then me, I am always wanting to hear the replies of those who read my mind.” Verilon said as his eyes were slit into thin lines. Elheru for his part adjusted his collar as his friends backed off from the confrontation.

“I apologize, I did not...”

“No, you didn’t. So the next time you don’t, think back to this moment and reflect and learn. It may help you in future endeavors.” Verilon said as he turned away and continued observing his Padawans. Elheru for his part stiffened at the reply and stormed off, with Cyran in tow. Kuja for his part just shook his head and looked up at the statue.

“May I ask why for the complete scrapping of the body yet not the head?” Kuja said as he tried to find sense in the reconstruction.

“You may ask.” Verilon said as waved his hands indicating to Utsa to move to the left.

Kuja smirked. “Very well, why did you scrap it?”

“I was unsatisfied the image it projected in concert with the design with the head.”

“So the entire thing had to go?”

“Yes.” Verilon said as he tapped a finger on his lips. “And to answer your next obvious question it’s because the body gave off a different message then the face, and I was after Derith and Durandal’s assessment of it, unhappy with the difference of projection.”

“Because of Derith and Durandal’s assessment, but I thought you said that...”

“I said that because in the end I make all my own choices, but I am not above having other somewhat influence my direction of choice.”

“I never knew Derith had any interest in art.” Kuja said.

“What did you believe all he did was go out, slay hordes of Sith, and come back to simply train and mediate upon what he had done?”

“Well, I’m really not too sure what I believe what he did. The stories we hear, he might as well be the single greatest warrior of the Jedi Order. But that would be impossible and would not fit the known facts of his missions.” Kuja said as he trailed his thoughts. “But by the same notion, I have never heard of him having any life beyond his missions or that is what I’ve heard from some close associates.”

“You know Zaia, intimately I would assume.”

“Yes?” Kuja said crinkling his face.

“Perhaps you should ask her about Derith.” Verilon offered.

“She...is rather hesitant about anything towards those lines.”

“Why?” Verilon said, turning to face the Padawan.

“I believe they had some very poor relations, or there is something of the whole affair she would rather not remember it all.”

Verilon just smirked, and shook his head. “Perhaps.”

“Nonetheless, I fail to see that she would divine any deep thoughts on the matter.”

“A woman who spent a number of years with the man, especially that man, and you don’t think she wouldn’t have a clearer insight then what is the stuff of rumors and hyperbole?”

“In that sense, yes she would. But I would question how much would be clouded by emotion.” Kuja said as he looked directly at Verilon.

“You have much to learn, but to answer your former question; yes I respect Derith’s opinion. If for nothing else he is sublimely blunt on matters that are similar to my own tastes on a subject. Though at times he had no aesthetical taste whatsoever.”

“Interesting, so what would your recommendation be to approaching him after he hears of the Council’s decision?”

“Pertaining to?” Verilon said as he raised an eyebrow. He now looked at the Padawan with a scrutiny he had when Elheru stood before him. Kuja for his part stood his ground.

“I’m to become his Padawan.”

Verilon visibly suppressed a laugh as his features contorted. He took in a very deep breath and exhaled slowly, collecting his thoughts. “Are you insane or just in want of a life most would never wish upon anyone?”

“Pardon?”

“I am sorry, but you are asking to be a Padawan to a man whose life is more dangerous then ten Jedi Knights. He is hardly in any position for a mere Padawan, no matter how skilled you believe you are.”

“I firmly believe I am more then mentally and physically prepared for any task. I do not see him being any different...”

“No, you don’t. His adventures, while they become gross exaggerations of the truth, are life threatening and are usually of the variety that most Knights would be hard pressed, to try, let alone succeed. Many do not see the state he returns from these adventures in. And you never truly saw what it did to Zaia, and now you wish to put her in that position again, but this time with more anxiety as you are nowhere near as capable as he was?”

“Are you saying I am unskilled, Master Verilon?” Kuja asked closing the distance between himself and Verilon.

“Compared to him?” Verilon said, glaring down at him. “You are not nearly prepared enough.”

“I am more then prepared to back my foolish actions in this regard.” Kuja said through gritted teeth.

“I hope for your sake you are. You are about to enter a far larger world for your foolish ignorance.” Verilon said as he turned to observe the construction. Kuja for his part gathered his cloak and walked off into the interior of the temple.

::beyond amused with the lastest chapter:: Great work, GR, I love it, and look forward to more.

Why is Kuja such a bonehead? *shakes head*

wonderful.

Kuja wrote:Why is Kuja such a bonehead? *shakes head*

Ahahahahahhahahahhahahahah!

Um, I mean, I have no idea why.

*applauds* Alright Verilon! You tell him what's what!

*grabs a notebook to try and figure out what's hapeing next, but upon coming up with nothing but a rabbit, gives up* Can't wait to see what the reaction to this news is going to be.*geefully waits, semi-patient...maybe?*

Yeah, Tax season drains my brain like nothing else.

2-3

In his sanctum Derith grimaced as a small hologram came to life. Derith noted the atmosphere was not as dry as he usually kept it. The air was as always calm, filtered to insure no gas and the temperature was the same including the pressure, but something was distinctly wrong to him. Strange that he thought to himself and while letting the consoles come to life he did a simple scan, and all the computers found nothing amiss. Computers could give false information and there were...no. Trust something for more then once in your life, the computer was correct, this was symptomatic of something else. The same symptoms he felt on the ship were still with him, even in his sanctuary. The fight with the Sith Lord and the dream were unnerving him in ways he found disgusting. The first he should’ve killed, but there were question he wanted answers to, and ones that could not be gleaned from the dead. The dream was altogether something else. Still he shook his head of those thoughts and focused upon what was needed. The Council wanted a report and there were things he needed to find now, to insure a concise and final report.

The greetings of a variety of shops, insurance and various other sundries invaded one of his mail accounts on Coruscant. He waved his hand at another console and brought the small viewscreen to life. There were no lights in his place at the moment except the screens, and the one with the Black Sun symbol on it had his attention. He typed in his procured password into their database and awaited acknowledgement into the database. He needed to find something and if it wasn’t there...well he would overcome that hurdle when he got to it.

While waiting, he clicked onto another console to see where he tracked his funds for Crimson through the Galactic network. He admired that she bounced that thing everywhere from Corellia to Nar Shaddaa to finally a Coruscant account. Just as he began to contact said person’s account, the screen came to life with another image; it was the face of a male humanoid with a patch of brown and red hair looking concerned over something.

Derith looked on silently as Kernel’s brow wrinkled. “You ever get tired of being so paranoid?” Kernel asked as he looked down at something on his side.

“It’s not paranoia, its simple deduction.” Derith said as he turned and looked at the Black Sun screen continue its download.

“Hello to you to.” Kernel said. “So why did you put a trace on every single credit you sent?”

“Because I can, Kernel. Your point is?”

“Oh I keep forgetting I’m dealing with a humorless torg who loves manipulating events into his favor, I’m sorry.” Kernel smirked. “Now before you go all mean and nasty Jedi on me, I’ll go out on a limb and just say that obviously the program I made for you worked perfectly as usual. Just so we get the pleasantries out of the way.”

“Perhaps too good, the file isn’t done yet. This program is to perform a full dump correct?”

“Yeah, and what do mean it’s not done?” Kernel asked as he looked down on something on his end. His eyes widened as he continued scanning something. “What the flying sproc...”

“What?”

“Okay, you said you were only downloading the library of single system...this can’t be right.”

“What?” Derith asked with more intensity.

“Apparently there are some protocols that are digging deeper and well,” Kernel said as he furiously typed. “See for yourself.”

Derith looked at where Kernel’s face once was and saw a registry of some sort; he didn’t recognize much but grasped a few of the ships were obviously from the navy that currently surrounded the planet and the dates being received were at least a few months old. He pressed a button and opened another window on the screen.

“This means what again?”

“Those ship registries are not of the Hapan variety.”

“Obviously some aren’t...” Derith said reading.

“No, I mean all of them, not a couple. That entire registry list that is being put on your display is not in any Hapan military.” Kernel said with a smirk.

“All of the newest ones or also the older variety?” Derith said tapping the screen as the names scrolled by at lightning speed.

“Nope, the easily the first ten thousand are not of any Hapan registry or have ever belonged to their navy.” Kernel said tilting his head. “Their navy is in there and likely this lord’s personal flotilla but right now? No.”

“This confirms more then a few things.” Derith commented.

“Such as...?”

“Such as none of your concern.”

“Uh...you haven’t been watching any holonews have you?” Kernel said.

“No, why?”

“Turn it on, the big wig of the Hapan confederation is making his speech about how the Renamant fleet was needed for the negotiations to reach their proper conclusion.”

Derith swiveled his chair about and pressed a small button on the chair to reveal a holo projector from the ground. As he inputted the control it immediately leapt to an attractive female twi’lek giving an hourly report of the daily happenings and major events across the galaxy, then the holo faded into a shot that was clearly the inner Senate chamber. The shot the holo cameras got was hardly a good indication of the vastness of structure. In this building held podium for each of the thousands of representatives from their sector of the galaxy. Inside was a cacophony of thousands of voices arguing and yet over the din a single being stood out. His hover podium centered itself away from the rest and sat parallel to the Chancellor’s own. The holo camera’s floated about Supreme Chancellor Stravo as anyone could see lines of worry and relief come over him as Durandal stood addressing the accusation the Bothan’s had laid at his feet. Derith listened intently as recognized the voice to be Durandal’s.

“That fleet that you claim was a show of military force was not there to harass my Bothan allies, no this was of a former negotiation that had reached its final conclusion and was merely entering the system as a show of good faith. Only the Bothans have interpreted this celebration as a show of force against them. Only they are the ones who leaping at the shadows.” Durandal said.

“How dare you!” Skayhan said as he leapt up to his feet. “Those ships were there as a personal honor guard for my brother. They were hardly any conspiratorial military operation that you were blithering earlier!”

“I see, so when they were hovering about over primary military targets and when there was noted detection of the arming of their main weapon systems, this was to be nothing more then a salute to the treaty?” Durandal said with a smile of his face.

“And I would like to know where you came up with such ridiculous information!”

“From the report of one Captain Korr of the Indomitable.” Durandal stated flatly.

“So, a military officer, who would greatly benefit I might add, if he gave a report that showed definitively that we were about to initiate hostile intentions is now absolute proof?” Skyhan said with a laugh, while smoothing his fur.

“Records do not lie, no matter the source. And you’re avoiding the obvious...while they may be allies neither the Renamant nor the Hapans would gain anything from making accusations for war. The Bothans would. In fact it’s astounding that your people entered said treaty over such a pathetic space lane.”

“I’m sure I speak for everyone in the Senate, why would you say something that has generated over two hundred trillion credits as pathetic, if I may be so bold?” Skayhan said, with even Stravo leaning forward.

“That’s an interesting story to how it relates to the current situation.” Durandal said. He nodded to an aide who took out a small cylinder. “And I have come prepared for just a situation.” A diagram appeared onto each of the platforms of the senators with a detail menu next to it, in Basic. Durandal waited for the din to die down and continued. “What you see before you my colleagues is the total trade and hyperspace usage of the Isolder74 system twelve years ago, pretty pitiful one has to admit.”

A few murmurs resonated throughout the Senate, Stravo after reviewing the material, stood up. “How does this reflect to the current status?”

“Patience my friend, patience. At nearly the same time said system was having some border disputes with both the Bothans and some pirates.”

“This is nothing then just a review of ancient history.” Skayhan said with a sigh.

“Is it? Then kindly fill in how that suddenly the pirates were diverted to other, much more profitable system until three years ago, when the Bothans came to the Jedi to dispose of them. At no point of time did the Bothans use their immense military might, which they had been building for more the thirty years, one that could easily destroy this pathetic fleet, use this. No instead they allowed it to fester, and allowed the Isolder74 system build power, and when it was ripe, proclaim they have a right to this hyperspace lane since it borders near one of their systems!”

“Pure posturing, nothing more.”

“I’m impressed that your rebuttal to my claims is nothing more then a Devorian child denying he stole candy with the smear across his lips.”

Skayhan merely seethed as he stared at Durandal who stood with arms across his chest. “Beware wary of such accusations, Hapan. You are claiming a great many things with a minimal of proof and given how little you have to counter our accusation of my brother’s death I would think twice of where you are stepping.”

“And what would the Hapan and Renamant alliance gain from such a course of action?”

“Why don’t you elucidate for me, since I am so ignorant to the rest of the universe.” Skayhan growled.

“That is uncalled for.” Stravo said as he intervened. “We have elected an official committee to investigate said matters. They will show us the truth in the end.”

“Indeed, and if the results are not favorable. The Hapans will most definitely know of our displeasure.”

Ignoring the comment, Durandal turned to face the Senate “My friends, I ask you to look beyond my words and the words of my Bothan associates. If this continues on this destructive course, there will be a war that we have not seen in any of our lifetimes. I do not want to herald my children into such a needless conflict when reason can and will prevail!”

Derith admired that no more then a few days as regarded as an impotent new leader he was able to sway the Senate so completely. Though he had to wonder how much of his other abilities played a part. He dashed them aside, knowing that his former master while capable of such things regarded said tactics as puerile and the exercise of lesser beings. He once pointed out “The weak are cowed by a show of more the actual use of force or ability.”

“Well?” Kernel said with a smirk.

“What?”

“Some show, and that was your big secret, right?” Kernel said with a broad grin.

“In some ways, but not in everything.” Derith said.

“Yeah, so any other reason for this lovely call?”

“Two parts, one you did confirm a suspicion that those ships were not only just manned by the Renamant but were of their particular starfleet. The other is what do you know of Crimson?”

“Why, has she gotten on your hit list or were you just so enamored with her...” Kernel said with a curl on his lips.

“Hardly, I am curious of the fact that Black Sun sent a squad of guards and a couple frigates to a supposed smuggler. Along with her other lies I begin to wonder what connection she has with that syndicate.”

“Why?”

“Because she has contact with me and I would like no further complications to come about from our brief sojourn together.” Derith said still not looking at Kernel’s screen.

“Right, well as they said you’ll get more gundarks with calor then oil.”

Derith just smiled as he nodded and pressed a few more buttons on the other pad. “Very well, I will find out another way. One more thing, I will need a few more imprint tracks, of a level twelve variety. I will come by tomorrow for them at my usual time.”

“Your usual...that would be kinda hard to squeeze, could you just pick them up later?”

“I don’t pay you to alter my schedule; I pay you for your efficiency.” Derith said as he finally turned and stared at Kernel’s image.

“Right, whatever, look come by a few minutes after your usual time, and I’ll give you a special bargain. Deal?” Kernel asked with a broad grin. The last image he had from that side was Derith still looking at another data screen as his hand reached over and killing the signal.


---------------------------------------------------------------------------------


Marina stood in full regalia in the Jedi Council chambers. The chamber was literally a work of art at any time of the day but Marina preferred the low light of the afternoon afforded her. She had shut down most of the interior lighting and what was left was at a low dim, allowing the light from the semi clear sky of Coruscant to fill the room, as she smoothed her black cloak waiting for the company she requested. The students who were meditating at the Silver Fountains truly had no idea what awaited them, or the horrors that a Jedi must endure to keep order within the galaxy. Were these children ever prepared enough or were the Masters always deluding themselves? She thought what her master must’ve thought when he decided she was at a level to be a true Jedi and not merely a learner. She let out a small sigh at these thoughts.

She reflected on the thought Durandal so impassionedly spoke of to them not more then twenty five years ago, while she looked at another group who were practicing against a drone. She remembered his words in front of the Council when they accused of him teaching Dark Side techniques. He claimed the Force was merely power, nothing else. The Council argued long and hard over the logic of the statement. In the end could not find any true fault; just he would have to be more wary to what he could teach students. That speech changed much of her outlook upon students and teachers and wondered was the galaxy ready. Were they truly training just to give peacekeepers or was there a need for something more then just a mere guardian. She now believed they were all just mere potential, no one truly mastered anything except how to dabble. Perhaps Durandal was right about the only way to achieve true power was to accept the Force as merely power and that light and dark were mere excuses.

While she was musing in these thoughts, behind her the great door cracked to allow passage for its single intruder. His stride was graceful and confident as he crossed the room. His cloak shadowed his face and the dim lights of the room helped none.

“Wilson, it took you long enough to respond to my summons.” Marina said nonplussed.

“I’m so sorry, mistress I forgot that you always expect perfect punctuality. So what are you going to do? Spank me?” Wilson chided as he pulled back his cloak, revealing a broad smiling face on his smooth features. His eyes had a certain glint to them and a bit of devilish smile as he watched Marina sigh and look away from him. In the dim light one could not tell if his hair was white or blonde, and he never cared to correct anyone either. He sauntered over to where Marina was standing and looked out at what she intently stared at. “So who’s the new poor gutter snipe?”

Marina turned to face him with a cold grimace as he continued to look at the Padawans train, never turning to see her expression. “Do you ever once think what we have done?”

“What do you mean?” Wilson said as he noted a particular Padawan trying too hard to do a defensive maneuver against the drone and getting zapped on her butt. He chuckled lightly as she ran around a bit from the stun blast.

“What do you mean by that statement?” Marina countered.

“What, a supposed war, that will likely never come to be? You know as well as I do, we purposefully trained both I’Brat and Zaia for a reason beyond even Durandal’s simple sentiments. He created Derith as a perfect reflection of his plans, we agreed that we would need Jedi who were going to have more then just simple diplomats, but to have the ability to adapt and change into possible soldiers.”

“Perhaps.” Marina said flatly as she looked away. “But to ignore Durandal when he was speaking more truth then fiction would have made us no different then the Council that licks Wong’s feet.”

“They may have trouble accepting the totality of Durandal’s statements.”

“He spoke of the truth; it just took me or you many years to accept this.”

“He spoke of his truth, not mine or yours. And his truth was to create a weapon to which he could enforce said dictates at his pleasing.” Wilson said with cold stare. “After his rant about power he came to us about a proposal in training of creating an agent of our own in essence.”

“Are you saying Derith is some agent or weapon he simply points and directs?” Marina said with a smile.

“Please, woman cease your poor posturing, you and I know full well what Derith is.”

Marina merely nodded.

“So why did you agree with him so easily?”

“Some of it resonated clearly within me and thus trained Zaia to replace me, to be my heir to all I built over the years. What did you think when you were training I’Brat? I would venture much the same if not the very same ideas.”

“Some, but she was to be in some ways a Jedi of a different sort. Wong’s takes on the Force I agree with but I wanted something beyond just a mere dispenser of such wisdom. While there are hundreds of Jedi that have shown this, they were isolated. I wanted I’Brat to be the mold in which future Jedi would be integrated within the galaxy.”

“Noble conceit.”

“Still I doubt you foresaw Zaia’s personal choice in both her direction and choices.” Wilson said as he shook his head.

“I disapproved of some of them, but she has shown she is capable, though I suspect many things on Durandal.”

“Why?”

“He wanted a pure weapon, and to have it so thusly distracted. I can almost see his claws in that whole sequence of events.”

“Speaking of his pure weapon, what do you suspect of his former reports and suspicions?”

“They are disturbing, especially given Derith’s methods are extremely through. When he collects material it isn’t unfounded, and never exaggerated. I dislike what he is, but I do not deny his capabilities.”

Wilson merely smiled and smoothed his cloak a bit. “I can only hope this time he was, because if his reports are true. This could be the start of something far more sinister then just a few mindless cultists.”

“From all suspicions this is the work of the Sith, and the last time they nearly destroyed more then half the galaxy, with nothing but the remains of the Renamant. With what is happening with both Hapans and Bothans. Their return would bring far dire tidings.” Marina said as she stared at the dimming sun.

Wow. Worth the wait, mon ami.

Damn, that was good, hon.

More, please.

...wow.

Hey, I'm all mold-y.

*gleefully settles* wonderful *waits some more*

You seem to be underusing your best character in this story.

Crown wrote:You seem to be underusing your best character in this story.

I agree. Kuja deserves way more time than he's getting.

Kuja wrote:

Crown wrote:You seem to be underusing your best character in this story.

I agree. Kuja deserves way more time than he's getting.

*prods* I disagree I want to see more Ver and Der, and Zaiaaaaaaaaaaa!

Lindar wrote:

Kuja wrote:I agree. Kuja deserves way more time than he's getting.

*prods* I disagree I want to see more Ver and Der, and Zaiaaaaaaaaaaa!