The Voyages of Targon Karashi

[TargonKarashi]

Episode Ten – Dragon Reborn

 

Episode One

 

The Lone Eagle entered the orbit of lush and green planet, a myriad of plains and forests and a few deserts. There was only one city visible, a great web of lights on the surface.

 

Rick leaned back in his seat. “Ah, the peaceful planet of Arakh. I haven’t been back here in a sadly long time.”

 

He glanced over at Targon. The young Jedi sat silent, his face staring down at his feet.

 

“Isn’t this the part where you ask me about the planet and my history of being here?” Rick asked.

 

Targon looked up. “Hmm? What?”

 

“And everyone calls me inattentive.”

 

Targon sighed. “Sorry, I’ve been…distracted.”

 

“Yes, I can see that,” Rick frowned. “You’re not still bothered about that issue on Korriban, are you?”

 

“It…it was unsettling,” Targon said softly.

 

“I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but it’s over now. We’re all alive, and the Sith are none the wiser. Though…they’re probably cursing us with many artistic profanities right now…”

 

Targon smiled dutifully. “Thanks for trying to lift the mood.”

 

“Hey,” Rick shrugged. “If I can’t cheer you up, then at least let Arakh do it for you.”

 

“Alright, Rick, I’ll bite – what’s so special about this place?”

 

“I’ll be happy to answer that question, Targon,” Rick smiled. “Arakh is a peaceful world, its government has remained completely out of the conflicts between the Republic and the Empire. It’s no special world…in the military sense, anyway. Think of it as…Zeltros for the Outer Rim.”

 

“Zeltros, eh?”

 

“Okay, well, maybe not quite like that. It’s a pleasant trading, luxury, and relaxation world. Folks come from all over to enjoy the simple pleasures of life here. There’s clean air, good food, great entertainment…”

 

“Who runs the planet?” Targon asked.

 

“There’s an oligarchy of nobles…Counts, I believe they’re called. Like on Serreno.”

 

“I see…and are they friends of the Republic?”

 

“They’re friends to anyone that has money and doesn’t cause trouble,” Rick answered.

 

“Then I’m not sure they’ll like us very much…”

 

Rick laughed. “It’s not going to be like that this time,” he grinned. “First of all, the Empire can’t come here sending bounty hunters or soldiers. The Counts have a powerful defense system and security force to protect their guests and interests.”

 

“One planet can’t stand alone against the Empire,” Targon shook his head.

 

“True…but there’re also powerful individuals from other worlds with interests here. Senators of the Republic, corporate executives from some of the largest galactic businesses, and some criminal syndicates. They all want a peaceful, money-making place here, and they’ll make sure it stays that way.”

 

“I hope you’re right,” Targon shrugged.

 

Rick patted him on the back. “Trust me, Targon. This is a place where you can find a nice place to get a drink, enjoy a show…or in your case, meditate.”

 

“That would be…nice,” Targon nodded.

 

“Nice? Are you kidding? This is going to be like vacation!”

 

There was a beeping on the console.

 

“Ah,” Rick nodded. “Here’s our welcoming message.” He pressed a button and a holographic image of a bright and cheery man appeared, dressed in expensive and fashionable clothing.

 

“Greetings visitors one and all,” the man stated politely. “Welcome to the beautiful planet of Arakh. I am Count Quayle, of the House Yrell, and I hope you enjoy your stay here. Please, let me offer the upcoming attractions that might interest you…”

 

“It’s an automated message,” Rick stated. “But it’s updated frequently with new events for the public. Maybe you’ll find something you’ll like.”

 

The Count began the list. “The third round in the Swoop Race Opening Tournament is underway. The stakes are high and betting is open. You can easily win big.”

 

“That sounds like something for me,” Rick smiled.

 

Greyhawk and Gabrielle walked into the cockpit.

 

“What’s this?” the old soldier asked.

 

“Attractions on Arakh,” Rick replied. “Listen up, gramps. Maybe there’s something for you.”

 

“Other sporting events include the Great Beast Races. Creatures from all over the galaxy are brought to the clean and lovely tracks on the Alabaster Fields to compete for the fastest animal in the galaxy.”

 

“That sounds…petty,” Gabrielle shrugged.

 

“It obviously makes money,” Gryehawk shrugged.

 

“Further, we even have a special performance of the Twin Suns Dancing Troupe, accompanied by the Starlight Trio Band.”

 

“Whoah,” Gabrielle perked up. “They’re here? I’m a huge fan of those guys!”

 

A sly look flashed on Rick’s face. He turned around and sighed. “Well, I was hoping to check out the swoop races and see about making some money…but…”

 

Everyone turned to face him.

 

“Hey!” Rick pouted. “Don’t judge me!” He shook his head. “Anyway, what I was going to say was… Gabrielle, would you like to…like to go to the performance of the Twin Suns?”

 

The Twi’lek’s face remained placid. “You’re asking me on a date? Is that it, Rick?”

 

“Gee,” Rick frowned. “You make it sound like I’m being sleazy or selfish. Tickets are expensive for a show like that…I was just offering…”

 

“Oh, can it, Rick,” Gabrielle sighed. “If you’re paying, I’d love to go.”

 

“Good,” Rick smiled happily. “I’m glad that worked out nicely.”

 

The ship finally came down and landed on one of the numerous docking ports throughout the city. Everything was surprisingly clean and nice. A lot different from recent landing spots.

 

As the ramp lowered, Rick was quickly getting ready to head out.

 

“For good seats,” he said, “I’d best hurry to get tickets now.”

 

“I’ll go with you,” Gabrielle stated. “After all, I’ll be the judge of ‘good seats’.”

 

“Fine, fine,” Rick shrugged as the two of them went down the ramp and out into the streets.

 

Greyhawk stretched. “I think I’ll do what Rick was originally planning. I’m going to go check out the swoop races. It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one.”

 

“Not as long as me,” Navor laughed. “When you’ve been alone on a dangerous world for more than twenty years, then you can talk about long times since relaxing.”

 

“I was getting close to that on Ord Mantell,” Greyhawk joined in the laughter.

 

“What are swoop races?” Sorgal asked.

 

The old soldier and Jedi gaped at him. “You don’t know?” Greyhawk gasped. “That settles it! You must come with us and experience the rush of the swoops!”

 

“Somehow I doubt it’s as exhilarating as you say,” the Sith frowned.

 

“Just wait and see,” Greyhawk said. “Wait and see.”

 

“You coming?” Navor asked Targon.

 

Targon shook his head. “No thank you…I need to find a quiet place to…reflect.”

 

Navor nodded. “I understand. Perhaps it would have been better if you had stayed away from the Sith Academy altogether, but that’s past now.”

 

“I’ll be fine,” Targon assured him, though he felt it was really more of a lie. “I think meditation will be what I need for right now.”

 

“We’ll call you later this evening,” Greyhawk said. “Don’t be going too far off, now.”

 

“Don’t worry,” Targon smiled sadly. “I think I’ve had my fill of getting into trouble for a lifetime.”

 

When Greyhawk and Navor had left, taking the hesitant Sorgal with them, Targon sighed and walked aimlessly down the impeccably clean streets. All around him, people were smiling and laughing and enjoying themselves. He smiled at their happiness, but inside he could not relate with them.

 

He walked on and on, until he found a wide and spacious park, full of bright green fields of grass and patches of thick trees.

 

Targon found a secluded spot on a hill beneath a great and old tree. Kneeling under its shade, he closed his eyes and listened to the whispering of the Force all around him.

 

He heard the flow of life amid the people of this planet, relaxing, happy, and carefree. The voices of their minds became an indiscernible static, a buzzing of life in the Force. It seemed so peaceful, yet he could not seem to find a place among it.

 

Everything was calm and easy…and then he felt a pang of the Dark Side shudder through him. He opened his eyes and looked around, but he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary.

 

The feeling had passed, and as he focused, he found he could not detect the dark presence anymore. Still…it had been profound and stronger than anything he had felt before so suddenly.

 

He sighed. “It must simply be a memory from Korriban, a taint of that evil world,” he told himself. “Nothing to worry about.” Targon then proceeded to start meditating again.

 

But he stopped. His eyes opened and he looked out across the park. Walking alone down a path, a young woman was carrying a large burden of packages and bags. She seemed to be struggling.

 

Targon rose and thought it best to see if he could help out as best he could.

 

As he made his way across the park, he noticed a pair of men walk up to the woman. They were dressed poorly, and from the way they swayed as they walked, Targon could tell they were intoxicated.

 

The first man shouted, “Hey, lady! Where’re you going with that stuff?”

 

“That looks awful heavy and valuable,” the second man said. “Maybe we should take it off your hands?”

 

“Thank you gentlemen,” the woman nodded, “but I’m fine. These things are for my master, so if you’ll excuse me…”

 

“Ah, I should’ve known you was a slave,” the first man slurred. “You’re not pretty enough to be a woman rich enough to afford that stuff.”

 

“Not pretty?” the second man laughed. “She’s plain old ugly!”

 

“Please leave me alone,” the woman requested. “I must get back to my master…”

 

“You’ll go when we say you can go, slave,” the first man said threateningly. “And we’ll say you can go when you hand over that stuff.”

 

“Gentlemen,” Targon called out. “Is there a problem here?”

 

“Nothing you need to worry about, stranger,” the second man said after he belched. “Nothing at all.”

 

“That doesn’t look that way to me,” Targon frowned.

 

“Get lost, kid!” the first man shouted. “You may be around this girl’s age, but you don’t look old enough to know how to use your sword yet.”

 

Targon raised an eyebrow. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think you were mugging this woman and planning to ravish her.”

 

“What’s it to you?”

 

Targon waved his hand. “You will leave this woman alone and get out of here.”

 

“I will…leave this woman alone and get out of here…” the first man repeated obediently.

 

“Yeah,” the second man nodded. “Me too.” And soon the two were long gone.

 

“Are you alright?” Targon asked the girl.

 

She was definitely homely, hardly what the world would call pretty. She had freckles all over her face, her nose was crooked, and her hair was ratty and coarse.

 

“I’m fine,” the woman bowed submissively. “Thank you, sir, for sending those men away. My master would be most displeased if I lost his groceries.”

 

“Who are you?” Targon asked.

 

“My name is Jina, and my master is Count Montay of House Krizo.”

 

“Well, Jina,” Targon smiled kindly. “Allow me to escort you back to your master’s estate.”

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Two

 

It had turned into a lovely evening. The bright red sunset gleamed over the sparkling towers of the city and the clean streets.

 

Rick and Gabrielle were laughing and smiling, recounting the great performance they had just seen, and the incident where Rick nearly got swindled out of every credit he had.

 

“Just to let you know,” Rick stated, “I knew that he was playing me from the very beginning.”

 

“Oh really?” Gabrielle laughed.

 

“Yeah, I was just playing along to make him feel foolish.”

 

“Then I guess you succeeded in making you both look like fools.”

 

Rick smiled. “I do my best.”

 

“Yes, without even trying,” Gabrielle punched his arm. “I also saw how stupid you looked staring at those Twin Sun dancers.”

 

“What?” Rick acted aghast. “What are you talking about?”

 

“I saw you gaping at those girls – the Twi’leks and Zeltrons and that Mirialan lead singer.”

 

“Whoah, now!” Rick straightened. “I wasn’t…I mean I wouldn’t…”

 

“Rick,” Gabrielle stared at him.

 

“I…was thinking about the day we met…at the Showtime Affair.”

 

“Oh, you mean the night I struck you on the back of the head and turned you over to Lycos Quinn?”

 

“How could I ever forget that lovely evening?” Rick asked. “I still feel the bump every now and then.”

 

Gabrielle punched him again, harder this time, yet she laughed.

 

“I guess I never did apologize for that,” she said.

 

“No need,” Rick smiled. “You’ve more than made up for it on our little adventures.”

 

“Thanks,” Gabrielle smiled. “You…You all have been really friendly with me…considering that I…”

 

She trailed off as the pair of them arrived at the ship. Oddly, the ramp was down and the lights were on inside.

 

Rick frowned. “I thought the others went out,” he said.

 

“Greyhawk told us he was taking Navor and Sorgal to the races,” Gabrielle nodded. “And Targon went to meditate.”

 

“Then neither group should be back by now,” Rick said suspiciously.

 

“What do you think?”

 

“I think you should stay here while I deal with our unexpected visitor.”

 

“You really think I’m just going to sit here and knit?” Gabrielle frowned. “You’ll want backup…you always have needed it in the past.”

 

Rick didn’t smile. He pulled out his pistols and tiptoed up the ramp. Gabrielle followed quietly behind him, her hands on her holstered guns.

 

They made their way through the halls of the ship – nothing was looking misplaced or out of the ordinary.

 

Then they reached the cockpit. Someone was sitting in the pilot’s chair, their back turned. The person wore a gray cloak and covered his head with a hood.

 

Rick pointed his blasters. “Alright, you’ve got five seconds to tell me what you’re doing, buddy.”

 

“Twitch,” Gabrielle followed, “and we’ll be washing grey matter off the console.”

 

The chair turned around, and the person stood to face them. It was a man in his late thirties, with short brown hair and stern brown eyes. His features were chiseled, his body incredibly fit.

 

And he wore the robes of a Jedi.

 

“Who are you?” Rick demanded.

 

“It is no concern of yours,” the man said simply.

 

“Like hell it isn’t!” Gabrielle hissed. “Start talking or we start shooting.”

 

“I am Master Minos Karr, and I require your vessel.”

 

“Oh, it’s that simple is it?” Rick growled. “I’m going to give you ten seconds to get off my ship right now, buster.”

 

“I require your vessel,” the Jedi repeated. “You will allow me to use your vessel.”

 

“Your Jedi tricks won’t convince me to do anything,” Rick stated.

 

In a flash, a green double-bladed lightsaber was in the man’s hand and pointed at Rick’s throat. “You will depart and allow me to complete my mission.”

 

Gabrielle readied her blasters. “Try anything, and you’ll be dead, stranger.”

 

“What mission is this?” Rick asked.

 

“It is the business of a Jedi Shadow, and of no matter to you. Now, please depart.”

 

“I don’t think so,” Gabrielle hissed. “You depart.”

 

The Jedi Shadow sighed. “I don’t wish to hurt you, but if you give me no choice…”

 

“What the…?” Greyhawk’s voice bellowed through the cockpit. The old soldier, Master Navor, and Sorgal had returned, and had entered unnoticed by anyone.

 

“What’s going on here?” Navor asked.

 

“I have a mission to complete,” Minos Karr said harshly. “I recommend you stay out of my way and let me depart.”

 

“We’ll let you go,” Rick nodded. “But you’re not leaving with my ship!”

 

“Then you leave me no choice,” the man sighed.

 

He raised his other hand and stripped everyone of their weapons simultaneously. Then Gabrielle and Rick were lifted into the air and hurled at the others. Greyhawk caught Rick in his arms, and Navor made a soft landing for Gabrielle.

 

Sorgal stepped back and waited for the way to clear, and then he thrust out his hand and curled invisible fingers around the stranger’s throat. But immediately, he was rebuffed. Instead, the Jedi sent a burst back through the Force that sent the Sith careening into a wall.

 

Minos Karr then deactivated his saber and raised both his hands. All five of the crew were lifted into the air, their bodies frozen and completely immobilized. He then stepped out of the cockpit and guided the paralyzed group into the cargo hold. He dropped them and locked the door.

 

Rick was the first to shake off the stasis and he started pounding on the door, shouting profanities. He then turned to the door controls and started fiddling with the wires.

 

He smiled as he hooked two cords together that should have opened the door, but instead, sudden spark exploded from the wires and shocked him, sending him clattering to the floor.

 

“What in space is going on here?” Greyhawk asked. “Who was that?”

 

“A psychotic Jedi Shadow!” Rick spat. “Come on, we need to get out of here…”

 

They heard and felt a rumble as the ship’s engines started up.

 

“Hey!” Gabrielle shouted at the door. “Just what do you think you’re doing?”

 

The ship took off and zoomed off, not exiting the atmosphere, but instead flying over the city and off into the wilder regions of the planet.

 

“I can’t believe this,” Sorgal snorted. “First your swoop races disappoint me, and now we’ve been hijacked…by a Jedi!”

 

“What does he want?” Greyhawk asked.

 

“He didn’t feel like telling us,” Rick frowned, seething with anger that his ship had just been commandeered so easily. “He preferred to threaten us than to be like most reasonable folks. Just like that other Jedi…” He stopped before he said anything else.

 

“What other Jedi?” Navor asked.

 

“Nothing,” Rick said quickly, and then he shut his mouth.

 

“I wonder what Targon will think when he finds the ship and all of us gone,” Greyhawk folded his arms. “And I wonder if he’ll even be able to do anything.”

 

“With everything that’s already happened to this blasted crew and ship,” Sorgal snorted again. “He’s probably going to find himself in his own trouble.”

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Three

 

Targon walked Jina through the streets to the great manor of her master, Count Montay. Upon seeing the slave, the guards at the door let them through without a word.

 

They went through the great gilded doors into a large foyer, with a great crystal chandelier hanging high above. A trio of other slaves, all sadly much better looking than Jina, came and took the groceries off of her hands.

 

“I must report to my master,” Jina said. “He may wish to thank you for your help.”

 

“Lead on,” Targon shrugged. “I don’t have anywhere I need to be right now.”

 

She took him through another pair of giant doors coated in gold. Now they were in a large dining room with a glittering table. Sitting there was a group of richly dressed people smiling and laughing.

 

Everything quieted down when they noticed the interruption. A middle-aged man at the far end of the banquet table stood.

 

“Ah, Jina,” the man nodded. “Nice to see you made it back…and only a little late.”

 

“I’m sorry, master,” the homely girl bowed. “I…was set upon as I returned.”

 

“Set upon?”

 

Targon spoke up. “A pair of drunken men were aiming to mug her, sir. I intervened and escorted her back, if it pleases you.”

 

The man nodded. “I thank you for your services, Master Jedi. I am Montay of House Krizo.”

 

“I am Jedi Knight Targon Karashi,” Targon bowed.

 

The Count’s polite smile disappeared as he turned back to his slave. “This is getting quite tiresome, Jina. I had hoped that having a slave that wasn’t pretty would allow you to get your work done easily and faithfully without problems…yet it seems you get more trouble than all the others combined.”

 

“It is not my intent, master,” Jina bowed submissively.

 

“That’s what you said before,” Montay scowled. “I’m beginning to wonder if men come hounding after you because you sell yourself out.”

 

“Master, no!” Jina protested. “I would never…”

 

“Get out of my sight, you ugly wench,” Montay ordered.

 

After his slave had bowed and left, the Count returned to smiling with his guests.

 

“Forgive that unpleasant business,” Montay sat. “I thank you for keeping her out of trouble this time, Master Karashi. Please, will you join us for dinner?”

 

Targon concealed a disgusted frown. “No thank you, sir,” Targon bowed and forced himself to smile politely. “There are many others that may be in need of help…and my companions may be wondering where I am.”

 

“I understand,” Montay nodded. “I trust you can find your way to the door.”

 

“I can,” Targon bowed. “Good evening, gentlemen.”

 

He left the room, perhaps a little too quickly. He was out in the foyer and heading for the main doors. Then a soft hand grabbed him.

 

“Thank you for helping me,” Jina said quietly. “Though I wonder if it might have been best if you had left me to the thugs. After all, I seem to be punished whether I am faithful or otherwise.”

 

“Don’t be too hard on yourself,” Targon sighed. “It’s not your fault at all – it is your master’s.”

 

“He…” she lowered her voice. “He is not the kindest man I’ve ever served.”

 

“I commend you for so readily putting it mildly,” Targon nodded. “Come, we should talk outside, away from unfriendly ears.”

 

He led her out the doors and onto the porch. He noticed how he kept looking at him.

Targon sighed. “It was my pleasure to help you, Jina. I fear I should be going, else I should lose my temper with your master’s selfishness.”

 

Her eyes widened. “If you bought me, I could go with you.”

 

“What?”

 

“I could serve you, Master Jedi. I truly am a faithful servant, despite my master’s belief otherwise.”

 

“Jedi do not have slaves,” Targon stated. “And if I had my way, I wouldn’t allow anyone to keep slaves.”

 

“But you can’t change that…”

 

“No, I can’t,” Targon nodded. “But…I could buy your freedom.”

 

“You…you will?”

 

Targon sighed and nodded. “You deserve a better fate than serving a thankless master.”

 

“I have some money that I’ve been saving!” Jina brightened. “I will help!”

 

“You probably won’t allow me to decline that,” Targon smiled.

 

“No,” Jina said readily. “Come on, let’s go get it!”

 

Targon followed her to her small shack of a house, far off to the edges of the Count’s property. He waited outside as she crawled in and returned with a fistful of credits. It was a meager amount, but more than most slaves have in their whole lifetimes.

 

“We’ll see if we can purchase your freedom as cheap as possible,” Targon nodded. “That way, you can have some money to start your new life right.”

 

“I can’t thank you enough!” Jina smiled.

 

“Don’t thank me, it isn’t necessary,” Targon shook his head. “All in a day’s duty for a Jedi.”

 

They returned to the main doors of the manor, though the guards were missing, surprisingly. The door itself was partly ajar, and broken on the hinges.

 

Targon frowned as he stepped through, with Jina clinging closely to his back. The lights were out, and things had been thrashed about.

 

“When did this happen?” Targon asked. “We were only gone a few minutes.”

 

They made their way over to the dining room. There was noise on the other side – noise that suggested something unpleasant. Targon peeked through the door, and suddenly he felt a massive wave of the Dark Side wash over him.

 

In the room, the guests were thrown about…dead. Chairs had been tipped over, and food and drink had been thrown all over the place.

 

Count Montay was floating in the air, gripping at his throat desperately. A large man in a black cloak and dark armor held a giant fist towards him. A second man, taller and thinner, wearing a red robe and gold armor, stood nearby.

 

“Where is the Jedi?” the masked man asked.

 

Montay choked. “I…I don’t…know…he left…”

 

“I can still feel his presence very close,” the large man said, his voice muffled from behind a re-breather. “I think you’re hiding him.”

 

“No…” Montay gasped. “He’s…gone…I only…saw him…for a moment…”

 

“Then in that case,” the red cloaked man folded his arms. “You’re of no use to us.”

 

The large man clenched his fist and the Count’s neck snapped. His lifeless body dropped to the ground.

 

“The Jedi is here,” the large man growled. “I can smell him.”

 

“How can you?” his companion asked. “Your nose is behind that breathing apparatus.”

 

“Don’t get snide with me!”

 

“Why not?” the taller man laughed. “It’s so easy to find things to mock about you.”

 

“Keep talking, and I’ll leave your broken body here with these pampered princesses.”

 

Suddenly, the taller man hushed him and whispered, “Can you feel that?”

 

The heavy man nodded. “Yeah, Vinitar, I do…It’s the Jedi – he’s close.”

 

“Not just close, Hellion…” He pointed to the door. His companion’s eyes widened and he charged forward.

 

Fear gripped Targon as they saw him, and he let himself give in to the intense urge to flee. He grabbed Jina and ran over to the door.

 

The large, dark man burst from the dining room, a red lightsaber sprung to life in his hand. “Jedi!” he roared.

 

Targon pushed Jina through the door and turned around to face the Sith. But instead of drawing his saber, he got an idea.

 

Looking up at the chandelier, he reached up and ripped it from the ceiling. It came crashing down into the Sith before he could respond.

 

Taking the time he had bought, he burst through the front doors himself and grabbed Jina by the arm.

 

“Come on!” he said, and she easily complied. “It looks like you’ve got your freedom, but it isn’t getting off to a good start.”

 

They hadn’t yet gotten to the edge of the estate before nearly the whole front wall of the manor exploded. Out of the dust and debris, the two Sith emerged. They broke into a run when they spotted the fleeing Jedi.

 

Their lightsabers activated. Darth Hellion held a single blade, but Vinitar held a pair of identical crimson sabers.

 

With a roar, Hellion leaped into the air and closed the distance between them and the Jedi.

 

Targon felt the rush of malice heading towards him, and he turned around swiftly and activated his saber. It was just in time to hold back the massive strike the Sith unleashed.

 

“Jina, run!” Targon shouted as he blocked against the Sith Lord’s fierce attacks.

 

The young woman seemed too afraid to move, but then she ran off, shouting for help. Targon sighed with relief that she was out of harm’s way, but that relief was fleeting as the Sith’s onslaught continued.

 

Targon couldn’t get out of the defensive. He continually had to give ground against his opponent, and he could see the second Sith coming quickly.

 

He gave a quick kick to the Sith’s chest and tried to run off. But something hit his back and threw him to the ground. It was a branch that had been severed from a tree.

 

Targon tried to get up, but he felt a heavy foot hold him down, and the heat of a lightsaber was at his back.

 

“Not as impressive as I thought you’d be,” the Sith with the respirator growled. “I’m actually disappointed.”

 

“Hellion, don’t play with the quarry,” the other Sith snapped as he walked up.

 

“Sorry, folks,” Targon said as he sent out a burst of the Force that hurled them away. “I don’t have time to play today.”

 

He was disappointed that they hadn’t been thrown very far. The two Sith landed only a few meters away, and now they were quickly recovering.

 

Suddenly, Targon heard sirens wailing and he turned around. A dozen planetary security speeders had arrived, pouring out more than a score of police troopers. Their guns were pointed at the Sith.

 

“Put down your weapons,” the commander ordered.

 

Targon quietly slipped away, happy with the Force’s intervention in this battle.

 

It turned out it hadn’t exactly been the Force. Targon spotted Jina running up, huffing after having run so hard to find the police.

 

“Well now,” Targon smiled. “Now I guess we’re even.”

 

“You helped me, and I helped you,” Jina smiled back. “The galaxy would be a lot better off if everyone helped each other more often.”

 

“That it would,” Targon nodded. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Edited November 17, 2012 by TargonKarashi

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Four

 

It had only been after ten minutes of listening to Rick shout and kick at the door while fiddling with the wires that someone finally had the notion to try something else.

 

Sorgal acted first, stepping up to the door and holding up his hands.

 

“I would have cut through this long ago,” he muttered. “But this works just as well…”

 

“Don’t you be damaging my door!” Rick shouted. “Even if you had your saber, I wouldn’t let you cut my door down.”

 

“Shut up, Rick,” Sorgal growled. “You want to get out of here or not?”

 

The captain said no more.

 

Sorgal shook his head and turned back to the door. He focused and started willing the door open.

 

It opened, but not because he wanted it to.

 

The Jedi Shadow stood there, and the second he registered what Sorgal was trying to do, he lifted his hand and sent the Sith crashing into the opposite wall of the cargo hold. He then looked at the others.

 

“I had hoped you would all be civil people,” Minos said. “But that can’t be expected from those who keep Sith in their ranks.”

 

“Don’t talk like you know us, buddy,” Rick spat.

 

Minos ignored him, and instead turned to Navor. “You are a Jedi.” It wasn’t a question.

 

“I am Master Pand Navor,” the Cathar nodded.

 

“You will come with me.”

 

With nothing else to say, the Jedi Shadow stepped back to allow Navor through the door, and then he locked the cargo hold up again.

 

“You son of a murglak!” Rick’s voice shouted from behind the door.

 

Navor sighed, “What do you want from us? Why are you doing this?”

 

Minos Karr peered at him. “Do you know what the Jedi Shadow’s job is?”

 

“Yes,” Navor nodded. “While we Watchmen guard from darkness, you Shadows seek it out and try to destroy it.”

 

Minos seemed pleased with that answer. “There is a great darkness on Arakh. I have been searching for it for weeks – but to no avail.”

 

“Well, that’s unfortunate,” Navor growled, “but why hijack the ship?”

 

“I have discovered the location of the darkness at last,” Minos replied. “But it is far in the desert on the other side of the planet. I required a vessel.”

 

“You could have asked,” Navor stated.

 

Minos suddenly seemed confused. “No…” he shook his head. “I needed the ship…to reach the darkness in time. There was no time to ask or pay…”

 

“Are you alright?” Navor asked.

 

“I am a Jedi!” Minos snapped. “I am always right!”

 

Navor recoiled, his eyes wide at the hints of madness in the Shadow’s eyes. “What is this darkness?” he asked.

 

“It does not concern you.”

 

“I beg to differ,” Navor shook his head fiercely. “You’ve hijacked a ship and kidnapped its crew. I think we have a right to know what’s going on.” Then he softened his tone. “From one Jedi to another?”

 

Minos paused, as if he was listening to some imaginary voice. And then he nodded.

 

“The Dragon,” he said simply.

 

“The Dragon?” Navor frowned. “What is that?”

 

“A spirit of darkness,” Minos replied. “Its lair is here on Arakh, I have found it. But I haven’t found its daughter.”

 

“Daughter?”

 

“The Dragon stole a young Jedi woman…and corrupted her. He made her his puppet, his assassin…his daughter. I see them both in my visions. The daughter must be freed, she needs a new master. I am to be that master…but first I must destroy the Dragon.”

 

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Navor frowned deeper.

 

“A Watchman wouldn’t understand!” Minos shouted spontaneously. “Only Shadows can confront the darkness and understand its evil!”

 

“You don’t think I understand?” Navor became indignant. “I know more than you, I’m sure. I watched my entire protected planet be consumed by darkness, so don’t you tell me that I don’t know!”

 

“Be silent!” Minos hissed. “When we reach the barrens, you and the others will help me destroy the evil. The Dragon must be destroyed.”

 

“It’s a spirit,” Navor growled. “You can’t destroy a spirit! Do you have any idea just what exactly this thing is? Have you seen it truly?”

 

“In my visions…in my dreams.”

 

“That doesn’t mean anything,” Navor stated angrily. “It’s probably all metaphor!”

 

“Don’t lecture me,” Minos hissed again. “As a Jedi, you know that all darkness must be destroyed.”

 

“Since when is that part of our code?” Navor asked. “You’ve twisted your purpose, Master Karr. You’ve lost your mind!”

 

Minos glared maniacally at him. “We’re done here,” he growled. “Back to the cargo hold. You and your friends will help me destroy the Dragon, or you will die.”

 

---

 

Fires burned the remains of the speeders, and the dead officers lay strewn about. Darth Hellion looked at the scene with satisfaction.

 

“What are you looking so pleased about?” Vinitar asked. “This distraction has allowed the Jedi to get away!”

 

“Not for long,” Hellion shook his head. “Besides, it was nice to have a bit of sport during the hunt.”

 

“Sport?” Vinitar scoffed. “Sport is not slaughtering a bunch of paltry police, Hellion. Sport comes from a real challenge, a worthy kill.”

 

“Your master didn’t seem to think that way,” Hellion sneered.

 

“Toxeti was a fool and a traitor…and he is dead,” Vinitar hissed. “Your master, on the other hand, would not be so proud of your flaunting of power in this infantile massacre. We should have cut through them and been gone.”

 

“It doesn’t matter now.”

 

“Oh really?”

 

Hellion shook his head. “The obstacle has been dealt with, and we’ll find the Jedi soon enough. I don’t want this hunt to end too quickly, otherwise it will have been a wasted effort.”

 

“The longer this takes the longer it wastes my time,” Vinitar hissed. “What’s one Jedi compared to the chance to slaughter hundreds?”

 

“You can practice for that,” Hellion said, “by slaughtering the people of this planet that get in our way. There’s going to be more resistance the longer we continue this hunt, Vinitar. I think it’s going to get a lot more fun as we go.”

 

“Stuff your fun,” Vinitar snorted. “The only reason we’re out here is by the command of the Dark Council. Fun has nothing to do with it.”

 

“Fun is the chance to assert your power over others, to prove that you are the strongest,” Hellion stated. “If you don’t want to be part of this hunt, feel free to quit any time.”

 

“I don’t quit,” Vinitar hissed. “I complete any task given to me.”

 

“Then why not get a bit of enjoyment out of the task as well?”

 

Vinitar said nothing, but instead just glared at his companion.

 

Darth Hellion closed his eyes and furrowed his brow. He could sense the Jedi…a bright light amid this sea of pathetic people. He was going…west.

 

He opened his eyes and started walking. Vinitar followed right behind him, eventually walking at his side.

 

“You know where he is?” Vinitar asked, skeptical of the answer he would receive.

 

“I know which direction he is going,” Hellion nodded. “And I know where he will go.”

 

“Oh, and where is that?”

 

“To his ship.”

 

---

 

Targon stopped and gaped at what was before him. Nothing. The ship was gone, and there was no sign of his companions anywhere.

 

“Where did they go?” he asked no one in particular.

 

“Did they abandon you?” Jina asked.

 

Targon shook his head. “They wouldn’t do that…” Even as he said it, the doubt did creep in the back of his mind.

 

“What do we do now?”

 

Targon thought for a moment. “I’ll try calling them. Someone will be bound to pick up…and then we’ll find them.”

 

He pulled out his comlink and turned it on. “This is Targon. Rick? Are you there?”

 

There was only static in reply.

 

“Rick? Gabrielle? Marc?” Targon waited for an answer, but none came. He shook his head and sighed. “Look guys, this isn’t funny. Rick, you said this was a peaceful planet…don’t try to scare me by suggesting that you’re in trouble. Because I’m in trouble.”

 

There was only silence then.

 

“Come on, guys,” Targon’s voice started showing concern. “Where are you? Where’s the ship?”

 

“What are we going to do?” Jina asked fearfully.

 

Targon closed his eyes and breathed deep. He turned to her. “Don’t worry, it’s going to be fine. We’ll get out of this, I promise.”

 

“We?”

 

Targon nodded. “I got you into this mess, and I’ll be a bantha’s uncle if I don’t get you out of it.”

 

Jina smiled at that. “What about those men?”

 

“Well, hopefully they’ve been arrested. But we shouldn’t discount the possibility they’ll come bursting into the docking bay.

 

At that moment, the doors exploded outward, shattering into small fragments. In the entrance was the large man, and the second one stood to his side.

 

“Me and my big mouth,” Targon sighed.

 

This time, the red robed Sith charged first, twin blades twirling in his hands.

 

Targon stood between them and Jina and activated his saber. He caught the Sith’s blades against his own, and then tried to counter. His opponent was fast, and soon overcame any counterattacks Targon could make.

 

He had to take the defensive again. But where the first Sith had been strong and heavy, this one’s strikes were swift and light. Red lights flashed in front of Targon, blinding him from even his own green blade.

 

Targon closed his eyes to keep more focused, using the Force to guide him and see where the enemy was making his attacks.

 

The hissing of their blades and the smell of ozone filled the air.

 

Suddenly, Targon felt another presence coming upon him. He opened his eyes and saw the other Sith charging to attack his flank. To avoid being caught directly between the two, Targon leapt into the air and landed behind the golden masked Sith.

 

The Sith twirled about with his blades and attacked again, and his companion had to be at his side. They both struck together, and Targon was quickly finding it incredibly difficult to hold off both their assaults.

 

When one came from the left, the other came from the right. When one attacked from above, the other struck from below.

 

Targon could feel himself tiring – not only from the exertion of his strength and reflexes, but also from the combined pressure of the Dark Side that the pair of Sith emanated. These two had a darker presence than the three Sith Lords he had faced on Korriban.

 

There was something about these two…something powerful and sinister that had taught and guided them.

 

Targon could tell he was soon going to be backed against a wall, with no avenue for escape. He knew he couldn’t let that happen, or else the battle was surely lost.

 

He thrust out his hand to hurl the lighter, faster Sith away. He flew through the air but landed gracefully on his feet.

 

Now he was left with only the Juggernaut, whose brute strength alone would soon overpower Targon. But he at least could deal with one enemy better than he could against two.

 

The red robed Sith, which Targon recalled being called Vinitar, did not move to rejoin the fight. Instead, he started making his way towards Jina, who was trying to hide behind a pile of crates.

 

Targon knew what they were doing – for he had been taught by his master about one of the basic tactics of Sith when they fought against Jedi. If they targeted the helpless companions of the Jedi, then their opponent would be forced to try to defend them, and thus become vulnerable.

 

Well, Targon knew that it was going to work. Against the better judgment of battle, Targon kicked the Sith he recalled being named Hellion in the chest. Then he rushed over towards Jina and engaged Vinitar.

 

His arms were becoming extremely tired, and his mind was starting to slow and blur from both exhaustion and his opponents’ dark presence. With each strike, his defenses became slower, and soon, he knew, they would break through.

 

Still, he fought on, trying his best to hold off the Sith. Hellion was advancing towards him, ready to outflank him again. And this time, Targon knew he wouldn’t be able to hold them both off.

 

They were too strong…more powerful than just about any Sith that Targon had fought in his short career as a Jedi. Well, except Kronos.

 

His vision was getting blurry, and his thoughts were growing foggy. He thought for a moment he was going blind…and then he supposed he was falling asleep. And the last thing he consciously thought was that he was certain he was dying.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Five

 

The ship landed in the middle of a wide expanse of desert, hundreds of miles away from the city. Giant mountains of sand spread out across the horizon, seemingly an endless sea of wastes.

 

The ramp lowered and Minos Karr herded the crew down and out. The sudden shock of the heat took them all by surprise.

 

“What is this place?” Gabrielle gasped in the heat. “Why are we here?”

 

Minos answered by pointing to something. Everyone turned to look where he pointed, yet they couldn’t see anything.

 

“Umm,” Rick scratched his head. “What are we supposed to be looking at right now?”

 

Sorgal closed his eyes, and then he felt it. Upon opening his eyes, he saw it clearly – a glinting reflection in the sand. Something metallic was under the dune.

 

Minos Karr walked over to it and waved his hand. A storm of sand rose and flew away, revealing the entrance to an underground structure. The great door was carved with several coiling serpents and other reptilian creatures.

 

“Okay,” Rick nodded. “So…what is this?”

 

“The Lair of the Dragon,” Minos replied.

 

Rick was about to say something snarky to that, but Greyhawk beat him to it.

 

“Care to be a little more specific beyond that?”

 

Minos frowned. “Ten years ago, this was once the estate of House Serox, the greatest of the Counties on Arakh. Then, the son of the Count went mad and destroyed the entire family.”

 

The wind picked up just then – a strangely chilly breeze that made many of them shiver.

 

“This madman died and became the Dragon,” Minos concluded.

 

“How do you know this?” Navor asked.

 

“I have seen the Dragon in visions – and I have long studied the history of Arakh in my time here.”

 

“How long have you been here?” Greyhawk inquired.

 

“Several weeks, ever since the visions first began.”

 

“Who is this Dragon?” Rick asked. “And why is he so important?”

 

Minos didn’t answer at first, he was looking off into space…and seemed as though he was listening to something.

 

Then he shook his head and glared at the group. “We must hurry, the Dragon knows that I am here.”

 

“If he’s a spirit, what can he do to us?” Gabrielle sneered.

 

“What indeed?” Sorgal folded his arms, remembering one spirit not long ago.

 

Minos waved his hand again, and the door opened up. A great waft of dust and the stench of stale air erupted. The Jedi Shadow gestured that they head in.

 

“Why should we go in first?” Rick asked. “This is your mission, not ours.”

 

“In,” Minos ordered.

 

“What about our weapons?” Gabrielle asked.

 

“You won’t need them.”

 

“If we don’t need them, then you don’t need yours,” Greyhawk countered.

 

Minos scowled. “You can have your blasters back, but your sabers will stay with me.” He pointed to Navor and Sorgal. “Don’t try anything…I don’t want to have to kill you.”

 

“At least you’re not completely unreasonable,” Rick shrugged as Minos handed them their guns back.

 

The Jedi Shadow then gestured that they enter the structure.

 

Greyhawk opted to go first, heading down the long flight of stairs into the dark. But then they all heard a sound from behind, and they turned to see.

 

Three speeders were coming their way, with markings of planetary security. They had sirens blaring, and when the vehicles stopped, the officers came out with guns raised.

 

“This is a restricted area,” the commander shouted. “You do not have the authority to be here. Put down your weapons and prepare to be detained.”

 

Minos walked towards them, his hands raised.

 

“I am on a special mission of the Jedi Council,” he stated.

 

“That doesn’t matter,” the commander put his hands on his hips. “You can’t be here. Do you have any idea what this place is?”

 

“I do,” Minos nodded.

 

“Then you know that you are in direct violation of the treaty between the Counts of Houses Yrell and Krizo in that…”

 

Minos drew his double-bladed lightsaber and decapitated the officer in the middle of his sentence. The other officers opened fire, but the Jedi Shadow deflected their shots.

 

“You will not stop me from my mission!” he shouted as he started cutting down the officers.

 

The crew of the Lone Eagle watched in horror. Suddenly, they shivered as the cold wind rose up again. And with it came a whisper.

 

“Perhaps it was time you were leaving?” it suggested.

 

“Did you hear that?” Rick asked, shuddering.

 

“What? The voice?” Sorgal nodded. “Yeah, I heard it.”

 

“Come on now, does it take a cattle prod?” the voice urged. “His madness has taken his focus away from you. Take your weapons and go, before he comes out of it.”

 

They hesitated, wondering where the voice was coming from. But then they decided that the voice had the right idea.

 

Sorgal and Navor called their lightsabers to them. Once they were in their hands, the group bolted for the ship.

 

“No!” Minos shrieked when he saw them. He cut down the last officer and then lifted up one of the speeders and hurled it at them.

 

Navor turned around and reached out, grabbing the vehicle and forcing it back down to the ground. Just as it landed, Minos leaped into the air and attacked. Navor drew his sabers and caught the blow.

 

“What’s wrong with you?” Navor asked. “Have you gone mad?”

 

“I must complete my mission,” Minos snarled. “You will not stop me.”

 

“We’re not trying to stop you,” Navor growled.

 

“Well, I am now,” Sorgal said as he activated his lightsaber and attacked.

 

Minos Karr held him off, twirling his double blade fluidly through his fingers and around his body. The green blade seemed weaker compared to the bright sunlight, but it outshone both Sorgal’s and Navor’s blades.

 

While Sorgal kept advancing against the Shadow, Navor began to lighten up. He didn’t have the intention to kill, as the Sith apparently did, but he debated whether it would be wise to simply leave.

 

After all, Jedi Shadow’s were particularly good at tracking enemies down.

 

As they fought, Sorgal’s anger grew in his eyes, but Minos Karr matched it with something else in his own eyes. A look of raging madness.

 

Navor, seeing this, concluded that there would be no reasoning with this man. He was consumed by his “mission”, and he was willing to kill anyone in order to complete it.

 

He could also see that Minos was holding back in the fight. This man was powerful, as he had displayed earlier. He was stronger than Sorgal, and he knew it. Hidden in his bout of insanity, he was waiting for the right moment to unleash his true strength.

 

Navor wasn’t about to let that happen. He charged forward and slashed at Master Karr from both left and right at once.

 

Minos was caught against Sorgal’s blade, but he was quick to respond. His legs flew into the air, up over his head, and then he somersaulted above them both and landed behind them.

 

The sound of the ship starting up rumbled over the sand dunes. Navor growled in satisfaction, and Sorgal sighed. It was best to leave this man to his mission and be done with the matter.

 

As the ship rose into the air, Sorgal leapt up to the ramp. Navor was about to follow, but he suddenly felt his legs pulled out from under him.

 

He collapsed into the sand, but he rolled onto his back quickly. Minos leapt at him, his blade ready to run him through.

 

Navor raised his hands and pushed the oncoming Jedi away. Minos tumbled through the air and crashed into the sand. Navor then rose to his feet and jumped up to the ramp of the ascending ship.

 

“Let’s leave this whacko to his nonsensical business,” Rick shouted as he fired up the engines and sped off across the desert.

 

Minos Karr stood and watched the ship depart. He spat grains of sand disgustedly out of his mouth and cursed the mutineers. Then he turned towards the gaping doorway.

 

He heard a laughter over the wind.

 

“Your trickery has gone on long enough,” Minos spat.

 

“Really? I think it’s only begun,” the voice mocked.

 

“You must be a coward to work so hard to get those fools to run off. Afraid to face more than me?”

 

“All I want is to face you, and you alone, Minos Karr.”

 

Minos scowled. “I don’t know what sick game you’re playing, but I will destroy you.”

 

“As the legends say I destroyed my house?” the voice laughed. “You shouldn’t believe everything you hear…especially those that refer to me.”

 

“I know who and what you are,” Minos said as he started down the stairs into the underground structure. “You are the mad son of House Serox. You are the Dragon that lives on without physical form, your essence bound to a golden medallion.”

 

The voice laughed. “Indeed, Jedi, I was once of House Serox. I also once was part of the Dark Covenant, and the vanquisher of Death itself. I am Lord Draco, Minos Karr, and I welcome you to my home.”

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Six

 

Strange and incomprehensible images flashed before him. Some of the things he was able to register…but he didn’t know what they meant.

 

A sea of stars shone before him, yet one by one they slowly blinked out, until there was nothing but a black oblivion.

 

Next, he saw a giant field, where thousands of bodies lay strewn about, and smoke rose over the land like great dark pillars. Swarms of large warships blotted out the sun.

 

Then he saw a dark forest, filled with blue webs similar to those which he had seen before. Yet there was more…strange red strands started forming, and the two different forces started fighting for space and for the victims entangled between them.

 

Things faded away, and then he was staring into the eyes of a fearsome dragon. It studied him and bid that he follow it. He did so, but the dragon moved too fast, and soon he was alone in an empty field.

 

Flames consumed everything, and he found himself in a field of fire. A strange laughter echoed over the roaring inferno. A pair of red eyes gazed at him through the fire, and the laughter intensified.

 

Now he as in a dark room, but he knew he wasn’t alone. A black shape stood next to him, silent and brooding. Across the room, there was light, holding off against the encroaching darkness. Yet the longer it fought, the further the shadows advanced, until finally it was extinguished.

 

Then laughter filled the air…and a voice called out his name.

 

“Targon?”

 

He awoke suddenly, his eyes wide, and he was panting heavily.

 

Looking around, he saw that he was in an empty chamber, with nothing in it but the bed he was lying in and a small table.

 

Something touched his head, and he saw that it was Jina with a damp cloth.

 

“Where are we?” Targon asked weakly.

 

“We’re safe…at least for right now, I think.”

 

“Where, though?”

 

“An abandoned apartment.”

 

Targon raised an eyebrow. “How…” he groaned from a sudden shock of weakness in his body. He lied back down on the bed and waited until he recovered some more strength to sit up again. “How did we get here?”

 

“I carried you.”

 

“That makes sense…” Targon sighed. “But…how…how did we escape the Sith?”

 

“You stopped them,” Jina replied.

 

Targon gave a little, “Huh?” and then he tried to stand.

 

Jina held him back. “Not yet, take it easy. You exhausted yourself immensely in the fight.”

 

“Yes…” Targon groaned. “But I definitely don’t remember winning that fight.”

 

“I’ll bet you’re pretty unsure about a lot of things,” Jina said softly as she rubbed the sweat off of his brow. “You’ve been out for the better part of the day, and you’ve been thrashing about the entire time.”

 

Targon sighed. “Visions…horrible, traumatic visions…”

 

“About what?”

 

“You wouldn’t understand,” Targon shook his head. “I don’t even understand.”

 

“Were they about your friends?”

 

Targon sighed again. “I don’t know…maybe, maybe not…I just don’t know anymore. I don’t even know if they’re alright…”

 

“You care a lot about them,” Jina observed.

 

“I care about a great deal,” Targon answered.

 

“Why?” Jina asked. “Why do you care so much? Why do you care about helping me? We only met yesterday, and now you’ve freed me from my master and guarded me against those Sith. Why?”

 

Targon looked up at her homely face, into her kind and innocent eyes. “I’m a Jedi,” he said simply. “It is my duty to protect others, both friends and strangers.”

 

“You work harder than simple duty demands,” Jina stated. “You’re a protector, a leader, a healer, a friend to all…and you’re constantly hunted. Duty doesn’t demand such devotion.”

 

“I…suppose you could say that,” Targon shrugged. “I guess…I guess I do it because it’s right. It’s what I’ve been taught, and it’s what I believe.”

 

Jina looked away then. A tear seemed to be forming in her eye. She stood and took several steps away from the bed.

 

“Have I upset you?” Targon asked.

 

“No,” she replied. “You are greater than I had ever expected…”

 

“What do you mean?” Targon asked, rising to his feet. “What are you talking about?”

 

Jina closed her eyes and took a deep breath. Then she looked up at him square in the eye.

 

“Targon, I’m afraid I have deceived you.”

 

“What?”

 

She took another deep breath and then raised her finger to her forehead. She ran it down her face and then closed her eyes once more.

 

A strange mist formed around her, and Jina’s clothes disappeared. Then her freckled skin and coarse hair melted away as well.

 

She changed suddenly. Her skin was green, she was clothed in a silver bodysuit. She had long painted nails on her fingers, and everywhere she became smooth and firm. A spinal ridge ran down her back, and she had a long ponytail of black hair.

 

She opened her eyes. They were golden yellow and reptilian.

 

Targon was astonished. She was a Falleen. And she was beautiful.

 

She sighed sadly. “I am Xana Kalar, former apprentice of Lord Draco. I was once a Jedi Knight like you, but I fell to darkness because I was not as strong or wise as you.”

 

“I don’t understand…” Targon gaped.

 

“Before my master sacrificed himself to ensure the destruction of Darth Kronos,” the Falleen stated, “Draco tasked me to await a new master to find me on Arakh, his homeworld.”

 

“Wait, wait,” Targon shook his head, confused. “There is no Jina?”

 

“No,” Xana replied. “It was an illusion I created to hide myself in the dregs of society, to conceal myself until my new master could find me.”

 

“And who is this new master?”

 

Xana stared at him. “You, Targon Karashi.”

 

Targon plopped back down on the bed. “What are you talking about? I didn’t seek you out…I didn’t even know who you were.”

 

“And I didn’t know you,” Xana nodded. “But the Force has guided our paths to cross here and now.”

 

“How can you know that?”

 

“My master foretold it,” Xana stated. “And my instincts tell me it is so. You found me, completely ignorant of the situation. You showed kindness and compassion and courage to me for no other reason than because it was you were following what you believed to be right.”

 

“I’m no master,” Targon said quickly. “I can’t even keep myself in line.”

 

“You are humble,” Xana pointed out. “What greater sign for a great teacher?”

 

Targon stood. “There has to be some mistake,” he held up his hands. “It doesn’t make any sense.”

 

“No, it doesn’t,” the Falleen shook her head. “It defies all sense…but the Force is mysterious.”

 

“I…” Targon sighed. “This is getting ahead of the situation.” His voice was stout and professional. “What we need to do first is to find my ship and escape this planet before the Sith can find us again. Then we can see the Jedi Council about this…development.”

 

“I don’t think it would be a good idea to see the Council.”

 

“Why not?”

 

A tear really did form in her eye this time, and it trickled down her cheek. “I am a fallen Jedi, Targon. I barely made it through the trials, I became a failed vigilante, and I gave in to my passions. I had even started heading to Korriban to become a Sith before Draco found me.”

 

Targon smiled sympathetically and stepped towards her. He lay a reassuring arm on her shoulder.

 

“Don’t worry about that,” Targon said softly. “I’m no better, truth be told. I’m the first mate of a former smuggler’s ship, I’ve given in to my passions on many occasions…and I also happened to be training in Korriban recently.”

 

“Yet somehow you’ve become such a better person,” Xana sighed.

 

Targon shook his head. “I might not know much about Xana Kalar, but if she’s anything like the former slave, Jina, then she’s a good and kind person herself.”

 

She looked him in the eye and saw his kind smile, and she smiled back.

 

“Come on,” Targon said. “Let’s go.”

 

The two of them walked over to the door and stepped out. They were out in a street, and no one else was about.

 

They were about to head out, when suddenly Targon felt a sudden pang through the Force – from an all-too-familiar source of the Dark Side.

 

He turned around and saw the two Sith standing on the roof of the building they were just in. Targon couldn’t believe it. How were they able to mask their presences so well until they chose to reveal themselves?

 

“Well, well,” Hellion chuckled. “What have we here? The Jedi’s friend seems to have changed her outfit.”

 

“And her species as well,” Vinitar nodded.

 

“This is the last time you get in our way, girl,” Hellion stated.

 

“Leave her alone,” Targon pushed her behind him. “She’s done nothing to you.”

 

The Sith laughed. “I guess you don’t recall how she saved your sorry life then, do you?” Vinitar said.

 

“What are you talking about?” Targon drew his saber.

 

“I intervened,” Xana answered him. “I got us out of there.”

 

“She damn near collapsed the whole docking bay on our heads,” Hellion growled.

 

“Too bad it didn’t succeed all the way,” Xana countered.

 

Vinitar drew his sabers. “So the scaly girl’s got attitude, eh? Well, I hope you give more of a fight than your friend.”

 

Targon held his saber up to them. “I may not have all my strength back, but I’ll fight you all the same.”

 

“Then it will be easier than the times before,” Vinitar smiled.

 

“This time he isn’t alone,” Xana stated. A snap-hiss sounded in her hands, and Targon saw that she had a lightsaber, as bright and green as his own.

 

“One young Jedi, not much of a fight,” Hellion drew his saber. “Two young Jedi…maybe it will be more interesting.”

 

With that, the Sith leapt down from the roof and attacked.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Seven

 

Red blades smashed down on green. The blades crackled against each other, parted, and then clashed again.

 

Vinitar focused his speed on Xana, who matched his speed with a defense nearly just as quick. Hellion’s hammer strikes fell upon Targon, who mustered his strength to hold them off.

 

After a while, the Jedi switched opponents, allowing them to recover from one style and adapt to the other.

 

Xana was able to hold off Hellion’s attacks much easier, for she simply kept distance between them, and avoided direct confrontation.

 

The Sith was growing irritated at her reluctance to face him directly. “Quit dancing around, lady!” He growled.

 

“Why should I?” Xana countered. “You’re too slow to keep up with me.”

 

Hellion roared and raised his hand, catching her in mid air. She squirmed uselessly in the air, trying to get free of his grip.

 

The Sith laughed and raised his saber, ready to run her helpless form through with it. Then, he was knocked to the ground. Looking up, he saw it was Vinitar having landed on him.

 

“Leave her out of this!” Targon shouted at them both. “It’s me you want, so fight me!”

 

Both Sith Lords got to their feet and charged him. Targon realized the folly of his challenge as they approached. He met their attacks, holding off against them both for a few seconds.

 

Then he Force-pushed Vinitar away, and focused himself on Hellion.

 

The Sith took him suddenly by surprise, kicking him in the chest and sending him flying into a wall. Then Hellion leapt at him, ready to thrust the saber right through Targon’s neck.

 

But before he landed, Hellion was thrown into another wall. Xana sighed after the exertion – the Sith was a heavy and dark person.

 

Targon struggled to get up, but he had only barely gotten to his feet when Vinitar was on him. Their blades crashed against each other several times, and Xana got into the fight as well.

 

Then the Sith jumped into the air and kicked his legs out, striking both the Jedi in the face. The Jedi stumbled to the ground, and Vinitar then started towards Targon, twirling his sabers.

 

Xana leapt up and kicked the Sith Lord in the back. He turned around and hit her in the face after recovering. Then he moved to slash at her abdomen.

 

Targon was up then, and he grabbed Vinitar by his cloak and, with the Force, threw him into the same wall that Hellion had struck.

 

That triumph was short lived, for both Sith were recovering quickly. Rage from the Dark Side emanated from them both, and they were ready to explode with fury. Targon figured that Xana and he wouldn’t last much longer against such unmatched dark power.

 

But then he heard a sound that made his heart leap with joy – a ship’s engines. Looking up, he saw the Lone Eagle descending towards them, the ramp open.

 

“It’s about time!” he exclaimed with relief. “Xana, let’s get out of here.”

 

She nodded and jumped, and Targon followed quickly. Once they were up, the ship wasted no time in heading back up into the air.

 

Targon burst into the cockpit. “Where were you guys?” he asked, anger in his voice.

 

Rick raised his hands. “Look, Targon, I’m sorry…we had our own little misadventure.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

“Some nutty Jedi hijacked our ship and took us out to the desert wastes on some mad crusade for a Dragon.”

 

Xana walked in. “A Dragon?”

 

“Who is this?” Rick asked, looking up and down the Falleen.

 

“This is Xana Kalar,” Targon replied. “She’s with us.”

 

“Oh really?” the captain frowned. “Just who is she supposed to be?”

 

“My…” Targon hesitated. “My friend.”

 

Rick paused. “Well, I guess that’s good enough for right now. I’m so sick of this place I’ll deal with any peculiarities as long as we get out of here…for now.”

 

“Where are we headed?” Targon asked.

 

“Anywhere, really,” the captain sighed.

 

“Tython?”

 

Greyhawk walked in. “No offense, Targon, but we’ve had our fill of Jedi right now.”

 

“We need to get to Tython,” Targon stated. “It’s for her.”

 

Rick rubbed his chin. “Well…I suppose not every Jedi is as crazy as that Minos Karr. And it would be a lot more peaceful there…”

 

“How did you find us?” Targon asked.

 

“Well…” Rick sighed. “Some voice told us where to find you.”

 

Xana frowned. “What was that Jedi after?” she asked.

 

“Some Dragon spirit,” Rick shrugged. “And he was willing to kill to complete his mission of destroying it. I can only wonder what will become of him…not that I really care.”

 

---

 

Minos Karr made his way through the labyrinth below the sea of sand. His only source of light was his lightsaber. And the only sound was his footsteps in the dark.

 

“I can’t say I’m impressed with your home,” he said to the darkness.

 

“Ah, yes, well…” the voice laughed. “I suppose it could use some cleaning…”

 

“Not much that an incorporeal spirit can do,” Minos mocked.

 

“You’d be surprised.”

 

He came upon a door that had been sealed by a lightsaber. Minos frowned as he studied it.

 

“I see you had some help in securing your secrets,” he said.

 

“Aw,” the voice mocked. “Is a sealed door too much for you?”

 

“Nothing will keep me from my mission,” Minos said indignantly as he used the Force to open the door, breaking the seal.

 

“That’s what I like to hear,” the voice said approvingly.

 

Minos entered the chamber. As soon as he walked in, several torches lit up, illuminating the room.

 

There was a statue of a great dragon on the far side of the room. In its jaws hung a golden medallion, and in its claws was a chest.

 

“What have we here?” Minos asked.

 

“Why don’t you take a look?” the voice countered.

 

Minos walked up to the statue and took down the chest. He set it on the stone floor and opened it. Inside was a green skin-tight suit, made of a young Krayt dragon’s scales.

 

“What’s this?” Minos frowned. “Your last bit of wardrobe you forgot to sell before you died?”

 

“You’ve got a strange way of looking at things,” the voice observed. “Maybe it’s nothing so silly as that, or so important as others might think. Maybe it’s a gift?”

 

“For who?”

 

“Well, you of course. Dragon scales can make fantastic armor.”

 

“I’m flattered, but I’m here to destroy you, not accept your generosity.”

 

“I thought as much,” the voice laughed. “Well then, there’s the medallion…and the vessel of my spirit. It’s there for you to destroy…or to wield for your own.”

 

“What are you talking about?”

 

The voice laughed again. “There’s a lot of power that remains untapped inside that medallion. It is a vessel of the Force, Master Karr. Were my spirit not bound to it, you could use it for yourself.”

 

“Jedi have no need for such things,” Minos snorted.

 

“Really? You were beaten by an unorganized mutiny…for all your power, that doesn’t bode well for a Jedi Shadow’s reputation.”

 

“You think I’m afraid of you?”

 

“Did I say that?”

 

Minos scowled. “I’ll wear your medallion, and I’ll vanquish your spirit. No force of darkness will stand against me.”

 

“Not anymore, anyway,” the voice agreed.

 

Minos reached up and called the medallion to his hand. He then placed the gold necklace around his neck and studied the trinket. It was a golden dragon coiled around a shimmering emerald.

 

He felt the presence of the Dragon. “Your spirit is in this crystal,” Minos stated. “I’ll crush it and destroy your essence in full.”

 

“No, you won’t,” the voice said.

 

“What do you mean? More tricks?”

 

“Maybe…”

 

Minos suddenly felt himself tremble and grow cold. The blood in his veins seemed to freeze, and his muscles twitched uncontrollably. He felt something starting to grow and spread in his legs…and then he couldn’t feel them anymore.

 

“What’s going on?” he gasped. “What did you do?”

 

“I lied,” the voice answered simply. “The medallion is more than a vessel of my spirit. It is a conduit to allow me to enter a new vessel.”

 

Minos’ eyes widened as he realized the foreign essence entering his body and spreading up his legs into his abdomen was the Dragon’s spirit.

 

Immediately, he tried to yank the medallion off of him, but he couldn’t. It stuck tight to him and suddenly weighed a ton.

 

He dropped to his knees, pulled down by the medallion’s weight. He looked up, and he saw the dragon statue’s eyes light up an eerie green. Suddenly, fire erupted from the image’s jaws, surrounding him.

 

His robes burned away, but his skin remained untouched, yet he could feel intense pain pulse through his body as the strange growth spread throughout him.

 

“I told Death that the Dragon would be reborn,” the voice laughed. “And I have you to thank for it. Your devotion to your mission, and the pliability of your mind have led you to insanity…and a willing recipient for me.”

 

“No!” Minos shrieked.

 

“It is unavoidable,” the voice laughed harder. “You are a failed Jedi, Minos Karr. You spent your time hunting a harmless spirit instead of protecting the people against a pair of rampaging Sith Lords. Now it’s time someone used your power and ability for a better cause.”

 

The Jedi Shadow cried out once more, and then the fire subsided and he was silent. He remained kneeling for a moment, silent and naked.

 

Finally, he opened his eyes. No longer were they a stern brown. Now they were red and reptilian, like a snake’s eyes.

 

He rose up and took out the suit of dragon scales. He placed them on his skin, and they seemed to cling and conform to his body.

 

At last, he drew his saber and laughed. His voice was different – it was no longer Minos Karr...

 

It was Lord Draco.

 

“The Dragon has returned,” he smiled.

 

Conclusion of Episode Ten

[TargonKarashi]

Episode Eleven – Battle of Broken Truce

 

Chapter One

 

The Jedi Council was quiet after having heard Targon’s story – about the destruction of Algayne, the trouble on Korriban, and the developments on Arakh.

 

But the widespread feel of the Council upon hearing the news about the fallen Jedi Knight and her meeting with Targon was one of confusion and alarm. No one spoke for a long time.

 

“So, let me get this straight,” Master Rahn said at last. “You want to train this young woman, one who happens to be the same age and level of discipline and strength as you, Targon?”

 

“Yes,” Targon nodded. “She sought me out…and my instincts tell me that I must train her.”

 

“Your instincts?” the Zabrak frowned. “Did you instincts also tell you to meddle with the academy on Korriban? Or to gain the ire of the Sith Lords and the Empire?”

 

“You go too far,” Cyrus spoke up at once. “Targon did not cause these problems. They were thrust upon him.”

 

“The fact remains no less,” Master Salar sighed.

 

“This incident is but a great many issues arising from the growing tensions,” Master Wixas said softly.

 

“Masters,” Targon bowed. “I understand my faults, and also those things which were beyond my control. But…what of Xana?”

 

“We cannot make a decision on that right now, there isn’t time for debate,” Master Salar stated.

 

“What do you mean?” Targon asked.

 

Master Cyrus sighed. “While you’ve been away, Targon, things have gotten…worse.”

 

“Worse?”

 

Cyrus nodded. “The peace between the Republic and the Empire is crumbling. Grand Master Satele Shan spoke before the entire Senate merely three days ago. In her own words, she told how there were signs of war on every world.”

 

Master Wixas nodded. “Rebellion on Balmorra, corruption on Coruscant, skirmishes on the border worlds, chaos on Alderaan, militarizing of Hutt space…there is much that is happening suddenly.”

 

“The Treaty of Coruscant is coming apart at the seams,” Cyrus stated. “And though many of the Senate and the Council wish to believe otherwise…the fact remains that the relationship between the Republic and the Empire is escalating.”

 

“War will consume the galaxy,” Master Asha sighed.

 

“What is to be done?” Targon asked.

 

Master Rahn answered, “Master Shan has gone to Coruscant, and the Republic’s military is mobilizing and mustering its strength. There is no intention of letting the Empire catch us unprepared.”

 

“The vital border worlds must be bolstered,” Master Salar stated. “And so the Council has to adjourn to aid in the effort.”

 

“How?” Targon inquired.

 

Master Wixas sighed. “Cei Rahn, Karus Salar, and I are to join with Alec Branxis, Jedi Guardian of the Viserys System, along with more than forty of the Order’s knights. The Republic has deemed the world a major economic and military position to hold if hostilities between the Empire commence.”

 

“One of the largest Republic fleets has been stationed there, under the command of Admiral Raynor Cordillian. Also, the Republic Command has dispatched the Ghost Corps to supplement the force.”

 

“Sounds like we’re expecting an attack there,” Targon observed.

 

“We are,” Master Salar nodded. “And the Council feels that you should accompany us there, along with your companions.”

 

“If you want to prove that Xana is trustworthy, and that you are prepared to guide her on her path to becoming a Jedi once again,” Master Rahn said sternly, “then this will be your chance.”

 

Targon bowed as he was dismissed, and he walked slowly out of the Council chamber to where his friends were waiting.

 

“So?” Rick asked. “Are we keeping the Falleen?”

 

Targon sighed. “We are to accompany Masters Rahn, Salar, and Wixas to the Viserys system.”

 

“Viserys?” Greyhawk was surprised. “That world’s almost as close as the Republic can get to the Empire.”

 

“Hostilities between the Empire and Republic are escalating,” Targon stated. “There is a need to bolster the Republic’s defenses in preparation.”

 

“Wait a second,” Rick frowned. “I didn’t sign on to be part of a new war with the Empire. We’ve been fighting them too much as it is.”

 

“Yes, but now you can do it legally,” Sorgal smirked.

 

“What else can we expect from you?” Gabrielle asked.

 

Xana sighed. “The Council was displeased on my account, weren’t they?”

 

Targon noted her desire to change the subject and so obliged. “They…they don’t feel I am ready to be training anyone.”

 

“But you are,” Xana stated.

 

“Not according to the Jedi Council,” Navor frowned. “It’s their decision, after all.”

 

“They didn’t make a decision,” Targon sighed. “And they won’t until the matter on Viserys has been seen to.”

 

“I have a bad feeling about all of this,” Rick muttered.

 

---

 

The twelve Dark Lords of the Council nearly gave a united sigh of frustration as the Sith Lord standing before them voiced his disgust with the way several Imperial policies had been upheld, disgruntlement about the assigning of fleets, and his anger of the Dark Council’s contempt for the Ministry of Intelligence.

 

One of the Council held up a hand to silence him. “Malgus, let me stop you right there. It is not the Council that frowns upon the Ministry’s behavior…it is only a few members.”

 

“How pathetic your plays at subtlety are,” Viruul sneered at the fellow Council member. He turned to the disgruntled Sith that seethed before them. “While we so enjoy your rants and dissenting cries for change, Malgus, our word is final and our decision stands. You have your orders…I suggest you carry them out as well as you have done in the past. That is all.”

 

Without a bow, the fuming Sith Lord departed out of the midst of the Council. Once he was gone, Viruul turned back to the Council member.

 

“If I didn’t know better,” Viruul said, “I’d say you were thinking of directing Malgus’ anger towards me in particular.”

 

“And what gives you that impression?” the man asked, his snarky smile hidden behind the faceless – even eyeless – mask. “Was it because I was simply informing a faithful servant of the truth?”

 

“Faithful?” Viruul laughed. “Truth? What do you know of such things, Lord Mortis?”

 

“More than you, I’m sure,” the Sith folded his arms.

 

“Gentlemen,” Lord Hades sighed. “We have more important things to discuss than this, if you don’t mind.”

 

Viruul nodded. “Yes, we do indeed.”

 

“It’s just like Malgus to immediately start complaining that he doesn’t have enough control over the vanguard forces,” one of the Council growled.

 

“What? You mean you didn’t notice his arrogance and vanity before?” Viruul laughed. “That man is a selfish brute that has spat in the face of the Dark Council far too many times to be forgiven. And yet nothing is done about him.”

 

“That’s because he has no power base to speak of,” Mortis stated. “And also that he happens to be quite a valuable servant.”

 

“Is he valuable because he is faithful?” Viruul asked. “Or because he has been so kind as to rid yourself of your political enemies?”

 

“Unfortunately, he hasn’t gotten rid of all of them.”

 

Hades pounded the floor with his cane. “If you are quite through…” he hissed. “We have a military strategy to discuss.”

 

Mortis nodded and called up a hologram of the galaxy, with a certain sector highlighted. “This is the Viserys system,” he announced. “It is a highly valuable position the Republic maintains to hold the border with the Empire. While our other forces are directed to differing areas to attack, the Emperor decreed that our first engagement begin here.”

 

“Yes, we are all aware of that,” Viruul rolled his eyes. “And I’m willing to wager that Malgus is most upset that he won’t be the first to attack the Republic.”

 

“How he might feel about the matter is irrelevant,” Hades stated. “He has been given his assignment, and now we must assign a leader for this attack.”

 

“The Emperor has named Darth Scorpius to oversee the assault,” Mortis stated regally.

 

“Did he now?” Viruul stood. “Your own apprentice? How very convenient…for you.”

 

“Would you question the will of the Emperor?” Mortis rose and challenged him.

 

“I do not question him,” Viruul replied. “I question the lies you spread and the words you put in the Emperor’s mouth. I wonder how he would feel if he knew that you were lying about what he wanted.”

 

“You dare to suppose me presumptuous?” Mortis asked angrily.

 

“No,” Viruul shook his head. “I dare to suppose you foolish.”

 

Hades slammed the floor again with his cane to call for silence. “Darth Scorpius is an accomplished Sith Lord, and the Force is strong with him. I concur that Mortis’ apprentice shall lead the attack.”

 

Several of the Dark Lords voiced their concurrence.

 

Viruul scowled. “If the rest of the Council wills it, I shall not oppose it…on certain conditions.”

 

Hades sighed. “What is it that will convince you, Lord Viruul?”

 

“Mortis’ brat can have the lead,” Viruul stated. “But I want Commander Gerald of the Ninth Legion to command the military forces. And I want three specific Sith to be assigned to the attack.”

 

“You think you can dictate names to us like a roster?” Mortis asked.

 

“Actually, I do,” Viruul nodded. “Do you want to say otherwise? You have what you want, don’t you?”

 

Mortis said nothing. He sat back down.

 

“Name your warriors, Viruul,” Hades nodded.

 

“I want your apprentice, Darth Hellion, and his companion, Darth Vinitar.”

 

“You want to divert them from their current assignment?”

 

Viruul smiled. “They won’t be diverted at all.”

 

“And the third?” Mortis asked impatiently.

 

Viruul faced him. “Darth Scorpius was the greatest student from Korriban during his time at the academy. After seeing the graduate from this year, I want the newly named Darth Arachne to join the attack. I want to see what sort of student that insect, Arawn, has created for himself.”

 

Hades cackled. “You want to see if she might become a threat?”

 

“There is always the possibility,” Viruul replied. “But above all, I want Sith that will follow orders but keep the Council’s will in the front of their minds. Can the same be said for your champion, Mortis?”

 

“Your scheming will be your doom, Viruul,” Mortis hissed.

 

Viruul laughed. “My scheming is the only thing that keeps this Empire from falling to tatters by malcontent warlords like the dead Toxeti, the turbulent Malgus…and you.”

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Two

 

The planet Viserys was a planet with an orbit just out of the prime position for life. Hardly any flora or fauna filled the world, and the only settlement was a great fortress on the equator – the only region that wasn’t made up of wastes of tundra.

 

Considering that, the fortress itself was filled only with essential personnel to man the station. At the lead was Jedi Guardian Alec Branxis, and the garrison were mostly troops hailing from a similar world, so that they might have an easier time managing things.

 

But now it was brimming with life. Fortifications had been made outside of the citadel, a web of trenches was dug, and mobile bases and barracks had been put up.

 

A force of seven thousand soldiers, Jedi, and engineers had come to Viserys – far more than Targon and his companions had been expecting.

 

They came down in their ship along with the Jedi Masters’ shuttle, landing on a pad next to it. Once out, they could see up close all the bustle and preparations being made.

 

“What is going on?” Rick asked. “It looks like they’re really expecting a fight here.”

 

“Maybe they are,” Greyhawk shrugged. “Though, they could have picked a warmer world…”

 

“Ah, it’s not so bad,” Navor stated. “Cold beats heat any time.”

 

“You’re nuts, Jedi,” Rick sighed.

 

“You’d be too if you had seen half the things I’ve seen,” the Jedi countered.

 

“Want to bet?”

 

“At it again, are you?” a familiar voice asked.

 

The group turned and saw Lt. Colonel Aric Trinn walking up. He looked the same, but his armor had been augmented with fur lining.

 

“I wasn’t expecting you all to be here,” the young officer smiled.

 

“We weren’t expecting to be here ourselves,” Rick shivered. “Otherwise we would have brought warmer clothes.”

 

“It’ll be warmer inside,” Aric smiled. He turned to the three members of the Jedi Council. “Masters, I have been instructed to escort you to the command center to meet with Admiral Cordillian and the other officers.”

 

“What of the other Jedi?” Master Rahn asked. “Have they arrived?”

 

“Yes,” Aric nodded. “They’re waiting inside for you.”

 

The Jedi Masters and the crew of the Lone Eagle followed the colonel through the vast encampment of the Republic forces and into the large fortress. They passed through a tall door that appeared tiny next to the sheer stone cliffs that were the castle’s walls.

 

Targon looked around in the halls as they walked, noticing the large number of people around wearing white armor.

 

“Is it just me?” he asked Rick. “Or is this a castle of snowmen?”

 

Rick’s eyes shone with surprise and pride. “Targon! You made a joke!”

 

“I’ve got a good role model,” Targon smiled back.

 

“Actually, Targon Karashi,” a voice said from behind, “it’s a castle of ghosts.”

 

Targon and Rick turned and saw the familiar face of Anna-sa Kyja.

 

Rick folded his arms. “So, your being here means we’re about to get some crazy bit of information that we’d never know otherwise?”

 

The woman smiled. “Not this time,” she replied. “The Supreme Chancellor has dispatched the Ghost Corps to aid in intelligence and defense of this world – as important as it is if hostilities break out.”

 

“I hope it doesn’t come to that,” Targon groaned.

 

“Unfortunately, it probably will,” another familiar voice said.

 

Targon turned and saw Master J’Quille towering over him. The Whiphid grumbled. “Come on, you’ll want to be part of the meeting,” he motioned for them to follow.

 

“Are you coming?” Rick asked Kyja.

 

The white armored woman shook her head. “No, I’ve got other duties. And I already know what’s going to be said in there.”

 

“Are you sure you’re not a real ghost?” Rick asked.

 

She didn’t reply, but simply walked off. The group was then ushered into the command center.

 

Surrounding a large table with an image of the entire fortress and grounds were several familiar, and some unfamiliar persons.

 

Admiral Cordillian smiled when he saw them. He was standing and conversing with Master Wixas and Master Salar.

 

Across the table, Master Rahn spoke with someone the group didn’t know. He was a large man, wearing Jedi robes but also had a fur cape on his back. His hair had grown long, and his beard was thick.

 

“Who’s that?” Targon asked to no one in particular.

 

“That is Master Alec Branxis,” J’Quille answered. “He is the Jedi Guardian of this world.”

 

Targon nodded and looked at the others. There were several officers, many of high and distinguished rank. And then he saw two interesting Jedi. The first he recognized immediately as Zar’kun Je’and. But the other…he didn’t know him at all.

 

“Who is he?” Targon asked J’Quille, pointing to the strange Jedi.

 

He was nearly a head taller than a human. His legs were long and double-jointed. His skin was a pale green-blue, with eyes that shone like diamonds, and a long braid of tendrils from the back of his head instead of hair. And he had no mouth.

 

“That is Master Talandar,” J’Quille replied.

 

“I’ve never heard of him before,” Targon said softly.

 

Rick shrugged. “I’ve never seen a creature like that before either.”

 

The strange Jedi regarded them and walked their way. He stood before Targon and bowed his head.

 

“Greetings, Brother Karashi,” his voice said in their minds. “I am Talandar. It is an honor to meet the apprentice of Master Tieru.”

 

Rick’s eyes widened. “Is his voice…in our heads?”

 

“I am a Kaalian,” the Jedi said simply. “Our race speaks through what you humans call telepathy.”

 

“Oh, okay,” Rick nodded.

 

“You knew Master Tieru?” Targon asked.

 

“Knew him?” The alien’s eyes glistened, as though he were smiling. “We were both the students of Master Vitarri. That was…well before your time, young Targon. He and I were great friends. I was…saddened to hear of his death.”

 

“Thank you, Master Talandar,” Targon bowed. “It is an honor to meet a friend of my master.”

 

“It is an honor to meet his student,” Talandar bowed in return. “Now, come, there is much that we all must discuss.”

 

He guided them to a place near the table, and then he took his own place standing with Masters Je’and and J’Quille.

 

“Welcome all,” Cordillian said politely. “It is a grim cause that has brought us here to this cold world, but it is nonetheless important. This bastion of Viserys is the first line of defense against the Empire. It keeps watch over major hyperspace lanes and maintains communications between the Core Worlds and the border.”

 

Master Salar nodded. “If the Empire attacks, it will surely strike here first.”

 

“Fortunately, we have shall be well informed about Imperial movements,” Cordillian stated. “From this world, we can monitor nearly the entire border with the Empire. They won’t be catching us unprepared.”

 

“Can we be certain of that?” Master Wixas asked. “The Republic was caught unprepared several times in the first war. Are we able to stop the same tactics now?”

 

“Yes,” Cordillian nodded. “Last time the Empire had Imperial Agents to harry our command and disrupt communication. Now we have our own counter intelligence.”

 

“Besides,” J’Quille rumbled, “our defenses here should be able to hold out long enough for any reinforcements to arrive.”

 

Aric Trinn touched his beeping earpiece and walked off to talk with the communicator. His departure was unnoticed by the rest of the conference.

 

“Every man here is ready to fight for the Republic,” Cordillian stated. “But to hold against a full assault, which is the only way the enemy can take this fortress, command will have to be firm and sure.”

 

“I agree,” Master Je’and nodded. “And we must be able to keep the chain of command separate, in case the Empire attempts to break it.”

 

Cordillian sighed. “That is why I have given command of all ground coordination to Master Wixas and Master Salar. I will control the space forces above. And Master Rahn and Branxis are to lead the front lines.”

 

“Three distinct branches of command,” J’Quille nodded. “It is risky to divide our forces and keep less direct…but far less risky than to keep it all in one…”

 

Aric interrupted suddenly. “A massive Imperial fleet has arrived!” he exclaimed.

 

“What?” Cordillian gaped. “That’s impossible…how could they get past our detection?”

 

“I don’t know, sir,” the Lt. Colonel shook his head. “Something must have screened them…but they’re here now.”

 

Cordillian clenched his jaw. He turned to an officer.

 

“Lieutenant, prep my ship,” he ordered. “I’ll see to the fleet, the plan stands.”

 

He left the room, followed by his aides.

 

All eyes turned to the small Master Wixas. His ears twitched as he looked back at them.

 

“Battle stations,” he ordered simply. “The Treaty of Coruscant has ended…war has come again.”

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Three

 

The bridge of the Star Destroyer Knighthammer was frigidly cold, even though the temperature setting had been set to quite a comfortable climate.

 

Commander Gerald knew the cause of the cold, and he glared at it angrily.

 

“Is there a problem, Commander?” the dark shape asked.

 

“No problem, my lord,” Gerald said simply. “It’s just getting rather cold here.”

 

“Perhaps you should raise the temperature setting?”

 

“Perhaps I should, Lord Scorpius,” Gerald bowed and turned his back on the Sith Lord. Ever since that man had come aboard, everything had been getting stale and unpleasant, Gerald noted.

 

The Dark Council’s chosen commander stood alone, staring out at the stars and the planet below. An aura of anticipation, rage, and pride was almost visibly emanating from him.

 

He wore a black cloak; red armor on his legs, arms and shoulders; and he wore a mask with a ring of spikes. At his side was his lightsaber – a completely black cylinder.

 

Gerald groaned inwardly. Of all Sith that loved melodrama, he thought, this young man was the worst of them all. His suit was a mix of antiquity and modernity…and to Gerald, it was a poor look.

 

Then again, maybe that was just the way the Sith Lord carried himself.

 

Gerald sighed. It was no use grumbling about this mission’s commander. A breakdown of leadership would not bode well for the attack – even if they had caught the Republic defenders by surprise.

 

More importantly…this man was a dangerous one. He didn’t suffer insubordination, and Gerald remembered all too well what happened to the last few commanders this Sith had served with.

 

They were still looking for parts of them.

 

Lord Scorpius turned to face him. “Commander,” he said softly. “Begin the attack.”

 

Gerald bowed. “As you wish, my lord.” He then activated the intercom for the entire fleet. “This is Commander Gerald. Commence attack.”

 

Almost immediately, scores of landing craft and strike fighters launched from the ships and sped down towards the planet. Several Republic warships were closing in to engage the Empire’s fleet, and the Star Destroyers were prepared to oblige.

 

Down through the atmosphere, the ships prepared to spill out the eager soldiers and Sith Warriors onto the barren surface. The fortress was nearing in view, a giant mountain amid the bleak landscape.

 

Gerald’s voice echoed from the speakers in each ship.

 

“The first line of the Republic’s defense is a series of barriers, followed by a network of trenches. They’re going to be dug in tight, but that shouldn’t be a problem. Storm through their feeble resistance and take the outer levels of the fortress. Reinforcements will arrive shortly to aid in the next phase of attack.”

 

In the dim red glow of one of the transports, the troops listened intently. After the briefing, a loud cracking of knuckles filled the compartment.

 

They turned to face the dark figure reclining against the wall. He stood forward and glared at the soldiers.

 

“Any of you grunts get in my way, I’ll cut right through you,” the man said threateningly, his voice muffled behind the rebreather he wore.

 

“Come on now, Hellion,” a man walked in from the cockpit. “Don’t break the troops’ morale before the battle’s even started.”

 

“I’m giving them the chance to heed my warning, Vinitar,” the Sith Lord countered. “A gift I do not afford to all.”

 

A bout of laughter filled the transport – a woman’s laughter.

 

“For a man who supposedly is the apprentice one of the Dark Council, you don’t seem so tough.”

 

“What would you know, whelp?” Hellion snarled.

 

Out of the shadow emerged a Zabrak with pale skin.

 

“I just know men,” she replied.

 

“I’ll bet you do,” Vinitar sneered. “You might be one of the best students the academy’s seen in a while, but you don’t have the superiority here, little girl.”

 

“We’ll see,” Arachne smirked.

 

“Yes, we will,” Hellion said as he stood and headed for the door of the transport. He opened up the ramp and let the bright light fill the ship. “See you on the ground,” he

said. Then he leaped out and landed on his feet. Already, hundreds of blaster bolts were filling the sky, both from the fortress and from the ships. The battle had begun, and now he was charging straight into it.

 

His lightsaber was alive in his hand as he bounded across the empty field towards the large barriers the Republic troops had erected. Soon, he was joined by dozens of Imperial soldiers charging alongside him.

 

Flashes of blue lasers streaked across the field towards them. Any that came near Hellion were quickly deflected. Many of the soldiers around him weren’t as fortunate in avoiding hits.

 

Hellion grinned when he saw the first lightsaber along the enemy lines. Then he saw three more.

 

Two Jedi Knights charged at him. They were younger knights, and their power paled next to his. He was able to block their attacks and counter swiftly.

 

Within moments, he had cut them down. Now he was looking for a better challenge – and he saw it with a large Whiphid Jedi barking out commands to the soldiers around him.

 

Hellion charged, his saber poised to strike. The Whiphid countercharged, and the ground beneath them rumbled with their footsteps.

 

The large beast’s green blade crashed against his red blade. His natural strength matched Hellion’s – perhaps even surpassed it. But the Jedi conditioning in the Whiphid kept him from fully utilizing his ability.

 

Hellion used this to his advantage, pressing his strength into every attack, and allowing the fury of the Dark Side to augment his power.

 

Unlike the others, this Jedi was more masterful in his fighting, and they danced with their sabers for what seemed a very long time. Explosions and lasers flashed around them, and the trenches and field were filling with soldiers, alive and dead.

 

A trooper thought he’d take out the Sith Lord in the rear with a potshot, but Hellion saw it coming in time. He turned about, diverting his attention away for a moment to send the blaster bolt back at the soldier.

 

But in that moment, the Whiphid swatted at him with his giant bear paws. Hellion landed in the dirt, but he recovered quickly.

 

Their blades crashed against each other again, and neither side gained ground against the other. Hellion had to admit that this Jedi was a greater challenge.

 

In a swift strike, the Jedi left himself open for a mere second, but it was enough to allow Hellion to send him sprawling with a Force push.

 

The Whiphid landed on his feet several meters away, and then he charged again, roaring some cultural battle cry.

 

In a fury, Hellion caught his blade and shoved it away. Then he made his own strike, but the Jedi caught his hand.

 

He could feel the Jedi’s giant paw trying to crush his hand, but Hellion endured the pain. He let loose a bolt of lightning from his other hand to break the Whiphid’s grip.

 

The Jedi moved away, his fur smoking slightly from the electricity. Then he charged again, but Hellion was ready for him.

 

He unleashed a larger blast of lightning at the Jedi, from both hands.

 

The Whiphid held up his saber and tried to hold the energy back. But Hellion intensified his assault, until the Jedi’s saber flew from his hand. Then the electricity was free to shock him directly.

 

Roaring in pain, the Jedi tried to break the dark current, but Hellion held firm. Finally, when the Whiphid had fallen to his knees, he stopped.

 

He then walked forward and raised his saber quickly. In a swift strike, he slashed the Jedi down his whole frame.

 

After that, he sighed. The fight had winded him a bit, which surprised him. But by drawing on the Dark Side, his strength returned.

 

Hellion saw Vinitar a ways off, cutting through barriers and soldiers alike. The former apprentice of Toxeti was aiming straight for the command of the Republic’s front – a pair of Jedi Masters.

 

Deciding not to let Vinitar have all the fun, Hellion started making his way towards the Jedi as well. Any soldiers that got in his path, Republic or Imperial, were cut down without a thought.

 

Then he heard a voice call out to him. Looking around, he saw the young Zabrak shouting at him from across a trench.

 

“Where are you going?” she asked. “The Republic is retreating! We need to pursue them.”

 

“I’m headed for the Jedi commanders!” Hellion replied irritably.

 

“Fool!” the girl hissed. “Those Jedi are holding our forces back by bringing the focus to them while their troops retreat. Can’t you tell? We can’t fall for their tricks!”

 

Hellion looked around, and noticed that the girl was right. All around, the Republic forces were fleeing through the trenches to the outer wall of the fortress. Yet the Imperial soldiers weren’t pursuing – they were too focused on the Jedi holding them off.

 

With a growl, Hellion raised his arm and spoke into his comlink.

 

“Vinitar, forget the Jedi! They’re trying to distract us!”

 

“Forget the Jedi?” the other Sith Lord’s voice was furious.

 

“They’re trying to keep us from pursuing our advantage!”

 

“I know that!” Vinitar bellowed. “But what are we supposed to do? Leave them to kill our soldiers unopposed?”

 

Hellion sighed, realizing his companion’s point. Then he said, “Rally the forces around you and prepare for a pursuit. I’ll call in an airstrike to break the fortress’ outer wall and cause the Jedi to flee. That should solve our problems.”

 

Vinitar growled. “I suppose it’s a better plan than anyone else has put forward.”

 

“It’s the only plan anyone has put forward.”

 

“Exactly.”

 

Hellion hung up and turned to the girl. “Rally some troops! We’ll lead a three pronged attack through the wall once the bombers have softened them up.”

 

Arachne nodded and headed off.

 

Hellion then called the fleet on his comlink. “This is Lord Hellion. The Republic’s front lines are falling back to the outer wall. I request an airstrike to break the fortress’ barrier.”

 

“Understood, my lord,” Commander Gerald assented. “The bombers are on their way.”

 

Hellion took one last glance at the slain Jedi.

 

“The first of many,” he mused to himself.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Four

 

Master Wixas frowned at the projected image of the battlefield. Imperial bombers had broken through the outer wall, and now the Imperials were driving through. Most of the Republic troops were in full retreat, trying to get behind the second wall.

 

Master Salar looked down at the small commander. “It isn’t looking good, that is for certain,” he sighed.

 

Wixas nodded. “Master J’Quille and several Jedi have fallen already…”

 

“But Masters Rahn and Branxis were able to get out in time, and allow several of the Republic forces to escape behind the wall as well.”

 

“True,” Wixas said. “But how much longer can we last? More Imperial reinforcements are getting to the surface, applying harsher pressure on our troops. We need to hit back.”

 

Master Salar nodded approvingly. “That’s what I was thinking, though I hadn’t thought to ask it of you. We can’t stay on the defensive – I learned that in the war in Wild Space.”

 

“But what force do we send?” Wixas asked. “We need all the Jedi and forces we have to hold the second wall. That’s where Masters Je’and and Talanar are stationed, along with Targon and his companions. If we devote too many forces to a counterattack, how will we continue our defenses if we fail?”

 

Salar frowned and thought for a moment. “I will lead the charge,” he said after a while.

 

“You? You’ve only just recovered fully from your last experience.”

 

“So now I’m in the good condition to fight,” Salar countered.

 

“You can’t go alone.”

 

“No,” Salar nodded. “I’ll take the Ghost Corps with me – and Masters Skeen and Talanar.”

 

“But Talanar…”

 

“The second wall will hold long enough for him to lead a charge,” Salar sighed. “Master Je’and is an accomplished battle master, and Targon’s party is tougher than anyone gives them credit for, it seems.”

 

Wixas stroked his fur for a moment, and then he sighed. “Where are Rahn and Branxis?”

 

“They’re through the second wall, and I’m sure they’re more than ready to bolster its defense. The Empire’s bombers won’t get through it as easily as the first wall.”

 

“Alright,” Wixas nodded. “Take half of the Ghost Corps, and take a couple trooper squadrons as well. That should be enough to sneak around the invasion force and outflank them.”

 

“Only half?”

 

“I want some of the Ghost Corps snipers on the wall to aid in the defense. A few good snipers will make up for diverted soldiers.”

 

“Good idea,” Salar nodded. “Should I take Lt. Colonel Aric Trinn and his squad as well?”

 

Wixas shook his head. “They already snuck out as the battle began – they’re keeping an eye out for attacks from other directions and keeping tabs on the enemy’s reinforcements.”

 

“Very well,” Salar bowed. “I’ll head out at once.”

 

“May the Force be with you, Karus Salar,” Wixas said softly.

 

---

 

Lord Scorpius cracked his knuckles as he looked over the battle display on the bridge. He happened to notice Commander Gerald’s grim expression.

 

“Something troubling you, Commander?” the Sith Lord asked.

 

“What makes you think that?” the middle-aged officer replied.

 

Scorpius frowned. “Our forces are pushing the enemy deeper into their fortress faster than previously prospected. And yet you look like you’re watching an utter rout of our soldiers.”

 

“I am aware that the battle is in our favor,” Gerald nodded, “for now.”

 

“You think it could change?”

 

“I’ve been in enough battles to know firsthand how quickly the tides can turn. Overconfident commanders have lost many a campaign because they were certain victory was theirs before they were justified.”

 

“Not me,” Scorpius smiled. “I’ve planned for everything.”

 

“Have you?” Gerald asked skeptically. “In your plans were you prepared for a Republic counterattack?”

 

He pointed to the display at a curious massing and maneuvering of forces away from the central battle at the second wall.

 

“Of course,” Scorpius grinned. “It’s what I’m counting on.”

 

“Is that so?”

 

“You should really stop questioning your superiors, Commander. You’ll be the better for it.”

 

“I question only questionable tactics,” Gerald stated.

 

“This is far from questionable,” Scorpius waved his hand. “I read your dossier, Commander, and I know about your disfavor of Imperial Intelligence. That is foolishness on your part.”

 

“A matter of debate, that is,” Gerald grumbled.

 

“I’ll prove it to you,” Scorpius picked up a comlink. “Imperial Intelligence is about to win the battle for us.”

 

“Indeed?”

 

Scorpius only smiled in reply and activated the comlink. “This is Darth Scorpius. Initiate Operation Hidden Blade.”

 

Gerald frowned.

 

The Sith Lord smiled at him. “It’s done now, Commander. I’m sure you can handle everything up here?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“I’m going down there to pay the survivors a visit.”

 

---

 

Slipping out the postern gate, Master Salar led his fellow Jedi and over two hundred soldiers and agents. It seemed a motley band of red armor mixed with stark white…and then three Jedi in various colored robes.

 

Once out the back door, Talanar took the lead, using his greater senses to detect anything along their path. Masters Salar and Skeen followed closely.

 

The Kaalian was garbed in tattered and simple cloth, like he had worn his robe through a thousand battles. Master Skeen was a human in traditional brown robes – very unassuming. Master Salar had traded his fine lavender and red robes for a dull gray cloak. It wouldn’t do, after all, to appear as a finely dressed man amid a bunch of battle-clad soldiers.

 

Explosions and blaster shots thundered in the distance, and bright lights flashed through the sky. The clouds above were thick and black, mixed with smoke.

 

They had gone a ways, before Talanar halted. Salar gave the signal for the group to stop and get down. He crept up to the Kaalian.

 

“What’s the matter?” he asked.

 

Talanar stood silently for a long while. “I sense something,” his voice said in Salar’s head. “Something…wrong.”

 

“Enemies?” Salar asked.

 

The Kaalian nodded. “A hidden enemy…preparing an ambush.”

 

“So they know about us…”

 

“Yes,” Talanar replied. “I will go ahead and find out what I can.”

 

“I’m not sure that’s such a good idea,” Salar put his hand on the Jedi’s shoulder.

 

Talanar faced him, his sparkling eyes serious and grim – telling everything of his emotions that the rest of his empty face could not.

 

“It’s best I go ahead and risk my life than for us all to walk blindly into a trap.”

 

Salar sighed. “You are right…but stay in contact. I don’t want to lose you.”

 

Talanar nodded and headed off, disappearing into the gathering smog from the battle.

 

Salar waited, hoping to hear something soon from Talanar’s scouting. Yet there was no reply.

 

Master Skeen was at his side.

 

“Talanar thinks there’re enemies ahead?” the woman asked.

 

“Yes…” Salar nodded, but then he noticed several ships appear in the sky. Imperial shuttles.

 

He activated his saber. “There they are!” he shouted. “Ready yourselves! Drive the enemy back!”

 

There was a horrifying medley of sound from behind him – blaster shots, shouts of alarm, and dying screams.

 

Master Skeen activated her lightsaber, but there was only a moment of blue flash before she was gunned down.

 

Her last words were, “The enemy is…here…”

 

Salar turned about, and his eyes opened in shock and dismay. The troopers were dead – they had all been killed. The agents of the Ghost Corps stood over their betrayed bodies, their rifles aimed at him.

 

“I don’t suppose I have the option of surrendering?” Salar sighed.

 

“Sorry, Master Salar,” Anna-sa Kyja said sadly, her face just as sorrowful as his. “We have our orders.”

 

“Of course you do,” Salar nodded. “Let’s get this over with…”

 

Master Salar had fallen, struck by nearly a hundred blaster bolts, by the time Lord Scorpius’ shuttle had landed and the Imperial infiltrators greeted him.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Five

 

Targon was running. Gabrielle and Greyhawk were right behind him, carrying a heavily injured Rick. Navor and Sorgal were a ways back, still holding off the betrayers while the others escaped. Xana was behind the others, covering their flank and making sure that they weren’t followed.

 

It had all happened so fast – everything was still a blur.

 

What Targon could recall…

 

They had been stationed on the second wall with Master Je’and. The frontline troops had made it through, mostly, and were heading up to bolster the defenses.

 

Master Talandar had been pulled out to go with Master Salar on a countermove, but the Ghost Corps had replaced him with several of their snipers. Master Branxis and Master Rahn headed back to the command center to report and counsel with Master Wixas.

 

Then things had gone to hell.

 

While the Imperial forces advanced slowly, there had been a strange calm over the battlefield. It had lasted mere seconds, and then the shooting started.

 

Shooting along the wall.

 

The Ghost Corps agents, in their stark white suits, turned their guns on the other defenders. It became a massive brawl, soldier against soldier, and no one knew what was going on.

 

And then the blast came – a massive explosion from within the wall that had breached the barrier and killed dozens of soldiers. At that moment, the Imperials charged in, three different prongs striking at once.

 

Chaos erupted. Shooting, explosions, lightsaber blades… Enemies were everywhere.

 

Then Rick was hit by a blaster bolt to his stomach.

 

Targon stuck with him, holding off against the storm long enough for Gabrielle and Greyhawk to break through to them and pick him up. Navor and Sorgal were the first recovering from the shock of events, and they focused themselves on holding against the tide of the enemy.

 

They had told the others to head for the ship. No one argued with that – after all, the ships would need to be defended more than the command center. It was their only escape route.

 

Rick was moaning and writhing in pain, completely delirious of what was going on around them. He muttered something incomprehensible, but no one paid any mind.

 

Greyhawk was struggling. He was holding most of Rick’s weight, but his leg had been hurt and the limp caused his strength to falter.

 

All of sudden, Navor, Sorgal, and Xana were next to them.

 

“What’s going on?” Targon asked.

 

“The second wall has fallen,” Navor stated. “We can’t hold them back any longer. An order of full retreat to the citadel has been given.”

 

“We’ve got to get Rick to a medic,” Gabrielle said.

 

“No time for that,” Sorgal growled. “We should leave him.”

 

“We will not!” Targon said harshly. “We’ll get him to the ship. We’ll need to hold there as long as we can for people to escape.”

 

Greyhawk grunted. “Why don’t you carry him for a bit, Sith?”

 

“I’ll carry him,” Navor stated, moving to lift the burden off of the old soldier. “The Sith will probably drop him and leave him.”

 

“Won’t deny it,” Sorgal shrugged.

 

“Less talk!” Gabrielle barked. “More haste!”

 

Targon felt a sudden pang of the Dark Side shake through him. He stopped and turned around – seeing the three worst people he could think of at the moment.

 

“Run!” Targon shouted at the group. “Run, now!”

 

“Why, what’s going…” Sorgal trailed off as he saw.

 

Marching towards them, with the Imperial forces in tow, were Hellion, Vinitar, and the Zabrak from Korriban.

 

“Go!” Targon ordered. “I’ll hold them! GO!”

 

Navor nodded solemnly as he and Greyhawk took the injured captain on, with Gabrielle and Sorgal following. Soon, they were behind the wall of the citadel, heading for the ship.

 

Lord Vinitar laughed. “A futile gesture, Jedi,” he smiled. “We’ll find and kill them soon enough, no matter how long you hold us here.”

 

“And you certainly won’t stand long alone,” Hellion added.

 

“He’s not alone,” Xana said as she activated her saber.

 

Hellion laughed. “Alright, girl, looks like we’ll take you again as well.”

 

“Only this time you boys have me,” the Zabrak hissed.

 

“I thought you were dead, Shadda,” Targon stated, activating his own lightsaber.

 

“The name’s Darth Arachne now, boy,” the woman hissed as her red saber sprung to life. “And I’ve come a long way since we last saw each other in the tomb. By destroying Krytak’s spirit, I obtained his power.”

 

“A blood drinker are you?” Targon asked.

 

“When you’ve been beaten, let’s find out, shall we?”

 

“You should be talking ‘if’, not ‘when’, Sith,” Xana said. “Overconfidence is a fool’s trait.”

 

“Quit the chatter,” Hellion hissed. “Once you’re dead, we’ve got others to kill.”

 

“None of you will pass,” Targon announced boldly.

 

The three Sith laughed, and then they charged.

 

Vinitar’s twin blades clashed with Xana’s blade as Targon held off the other two. Only moments into the battle, Targon knew he was going to be overwhelmed. What Hellion lacked in speed, ‘Arachne’ made up for double. And the same went the opposite way for strength.

 

He struck with a kick, knocking Hellion away for a bit. He then focused his attention on the Zabrak. Her outfit hadn’t changed much – still little more than a bikini. Yet now there were new decorations on the cloth, and her leggings were sewn like spider webs.

 

She came at him, saber twirling and changing into a red blur. Targon tried to hold it off, but he was losing ground. She was driving him back, and he could feel Hellion moving to take his flank yet again.

 

Targon leaped into the air and struck Arachne’s face with his foot. She tumbled to the ground, and when he landed, Targon was able to focus on the large Sith Lord.

 

Xana was struggling against Vinitar’s onslaught, Targon could tell. He needed to get to her and together they might hold off better against him.

 

He Force pushed Hellion away as best he could, and then he made his way to Xana’s side, joining in her with blocking Vinitar’s blades. The Sith was not pleased to see them both holding against him.

 

His rage intensified, and soon they were both finding it hard to block against his attacks in time. He came at them both, his right for Xana, his left for Targon.

 

Together, Targon and Xana reached out with the Force and hurled him back. They were both caught by surprise at the coordination of their attack, though neither of them had planned on it.

 

There wasn’t time to dwell on that, though. Arachne charged at them, shrieking with a dark fury. She was incredibly fast, as though her muscles and nerves had been tampered with to make them unnaturally quick and agile.

 

Whenever any of them tried to attack while she was engaged with the other, she was somehow able to see them coming and avoid the strike. She was jumping and ducking and twirling all over the place. It seemed impossible to keep up with her to even get at her saber.

 

With her pale skin and her speed, she seemed like a formless ghost. And that thought made Targon bristle with anger at the memory of the Ghost Corps betrayal. Had they been bribed? He wondered. Or were they an Imperial machination from the very beginning? That would explain the peculiarity of the agents…

 

Regardless, the fact that they had turned on the Republic in its hour of need and had broken the defenses of the castle and had murdered countless of their former allies…it was all too much to bear with calmness.

 

And, like he had done back on Korriban, he tapped into his darker emotions.

 

With a roar, he charged at Arachne, driving her back and then kicking her into a pile of rubble. He then went after Vinitar, ready to smash through his defenses and cut him in half.

 

But a torrent of lightning struck him, and forced him to his knees.

 

Hellion approached him, the electricity pouring from his fingers. He laughed as Targon cried out in pain and struggled against the current.

 

“Your rage may give you power, but not enough to stand against the full power of the Dark Side,” the Sith snarled from behind his re-breather. “Now you die, and die in vain.”

 

“No!” Targon roared as he shoved a wave of power through the Force back along the electric current. It was all Hellion could do to keep his footing and protect himself from the blast.

 

But then a second arc of lighting struck, this one from Vinitar. And then a third, from Arachne. All three were streaming dark energy into his body, and he could feel his nerves shorting out from the shock.

 

His clothes were burning away, ripping apart, and falling off his skin. He could not feel the cold air for the dark heat that was coursing into him. He cried out, screaming in pain, begging for it all to stop.

 

He felt burning tears of pain and guilt stream from his eyes.

 

“Targon!” he heard Xana’s voice shout inside his head, above the hissing of the lightning. “Targon! Focus with me! We can fight back as one!”

 

“But I…I failed…I gave in…”

 

“None of that matters now. Together, Targon, we can beat them together!”

 

He felt her strength join with his, and with combined, though strained, effort, they pushed the lightning out and away from his body.

 

“What’s this?” Hellion roared. “You think that both of you can stop us combined?”

 

The Sith Lords laughed, yet despite their mockery, Targon and Xana kept focusing. They drew their strength from the Force, and from each other. Finally, they let out a massive burst through the Force – a shockwave so intense it threw the Sith into the air and tore down everything surrounding them.

 

Targon dropped to the ground, his strength gone and his mind fading. He felt he was dying…but he had thought that before.

 

A muffled voice – as though far away – called out his name. As everything faded away into black, he saw a person kneeling over him, and a speeder coming down from the sky.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Six

 

Scorpius walked alone through the halls of the citadel. The bodies of soldiers – Republic and Imperial – were strewn about the floor. Even Jedi and Sith warriors were among the dead.

 

The attack had been successful…so far. Republic forces were scattered and broken, trying desperately to flee. His soldiers were hunting them down.

 

But the battle wouldn’t be won until the Jedi Masters in charge of this place were dead. From what he knew, they had gathered together for a final stand.

 

They weren’t in the command center – he had checked there already. Dozens of Imperial soldiers were slain there, cut apart by lightsabers. But the Jedi had left. He needed to find them quickly.

 

And then he would kill them all.

 

Contact had been lost with a platoon that made their way to a great indoor courtyard – the only warm place on this blasted world. It was deep in the castle and there was only one way in.

 

Scorpius knew that was where they were, and he made haste to get there quickly.

 

He could feel them as he drew nearer. He could smell their stench of pacifism and nobility, hear their tired breathing, and taste their fear. They knew this was the end for them.

 

The door was up ahead, past an intersection of corridors.

 

Suddenly, someone was standing in his way. He wore red and gold armor, a black cape, and he wielded a pair of black sabers.

 

“You will go no further,” the man stated.

 

Scorpius laughed. “Foolish Jedi, you cannot stop me.”

 

“Are you so sure of that, Sith?”

 

“You’ve lost already,” Scorpius said simply. “Your soldiers are slain, your Jedi friends are lost, your allies have proven your doom, and now you stand against the inevitable like a child in fear.”

 

“I do not fear you, or any Sith,” the Jedi said.

 

“You deceive yourself,” Scorpius laughed as he drew his red saber.

 

The Jedi twirled his twin blades. “I am Zar’kun Je’and, and though our forces fall divided, I am united with the Force, and so I stand against you.”

 

“How disgustingly noble,” Scorpius spat as he charged.

 

Their blades crashed and twirled against each other. The whole hall was filled with red and black.

 

The Jedi was aggressive, and he knew how to use two sabers. Scorpius was surprised – and irritated – at how well the man was able to maintain his offensive.

 

Scorpius tried a double kick and then a quick slash, yet somehow the Jedi was able to defend himself. Then he tried a flurry of saber strikes, and none of them hit their mark.

 

Now the Jedi attacked. The twin blades came from both sides, too quick for Scorpius to block them one at a time.

 

Instead, he leaped up and flipped over the Jedi, landing behind him.

 

“I have more important people to deal with than you,” Scorpius sneered as he raised his hand.

 

Lightning shot from his fingertips, arcing towards the Jedi.

 

Master Je’and held the blast by crossing his sabers together.

 

But then Scorpius used his other hand and Force pushed the Jedi down the hall. He flew through the air and crashed into the wall.

 

Scorpius smiled with satisfaction, but the moment he blinked, the Jedi was gone.

 

He scowled. “Coward,” he spat. “Just like all Jedi.”

 

Scorpius then turned towards the door and finally got in.

 

The courtyard was completely enclosed by walls, illuminated by artificial sunlight – but the flora of the room was growing at an incredible level. All over the walls, vines and ferns and small trees grew. The ground was grass, and there was a fountain churning a peaceful stream of water.

 

Next to that fountain were the three Jedi. They were kneeling in meditation, but upon his entrance, they stirred and rose.

 

One was a Zabrak, another a human with a fur coat, and the last was a short little…rabbit?

Scorpius smiled. “Here we are at last – to seal the fate of the Jedi.”

 

“The Order will live on, even if we do not,” the small creature stated.

 

“How nice to know,” Scorpius grinned. “That means I’ll have more to kill.” He looked them over carefully. “I should consider myself honored to have the chance to kill you – after all, you are three of the Order’s finest masters.”

 

“Flattery from a Sith?” the human scoffed. “I don’t know whether to be elated or disgusted.”

 

“Most likely the latter,” the Zabrak frowned.

 

Scorpius kept smiling. “I have studied the Jedi Order’s warriors under my master. You are Master Cei Rahn.” He pointed to the Zabrak. “A proud and arrogant man, too caught up in dogma and boasting.”

 

“Swine!” Master Rahn shouted as he charged, igniting his blue saber.

 

Scorpius was quick to get his saber to his hand and deflect the attack. Their blades crossed for a bit, but the Jedi Master was caught up in a blind anger – or pride – and so his focus was less centered.

 

With a bash to the Jedi’s head, discombobulating him, Scorpius followed immediately with a thrust of his saber through the Zabrak’s chest.

 

“Master Rahn!” the miniscule master shouted in despair. “No!”

 

“We’ve lost our unity,” the other Jedi Master sighed sadly. “First J’Quille, then Karus Salar…now this…”

 

Scorpius laughed as he kicked the dead Jedi to the ground. “Don’t forget your friend, Zar’kun Je’and, fools. I will kill you all.” He smiled. “Can you do any better with your spiritual guidance, Master Iotar Wixas? Or you, Master Alec Branxis, with your honed saber skills?”

 

The two Jedi drew their sabers. The room was alive with Master Wixas’ orange blade, and Master Branxis’ green one.

 

Scorpius laughed. “Time to die!” With that, he leapt forward, ready to cut them down.

 

Master Wixas closed his eye and held out his small hand. One of the trees stirred, and then uprooted, hurtling through the air. The object crashed into Scorpius and landed them both against a far wall.

 

“Well done,” Branxis smiled.

 

Wixas sighed, and then his nose twitched. “It’s not over yet, Master Branxis.”

 

The uprooted tree shattered, and shivers of wood sprayed the courtyard. Scorpius emerged, his armor battered, his cloak tattered, and his helmet removed. His long black braid of hair was undone, and now it was a tangled mess.

 

“Nice trick, Jedi,” he snarled. “But your plants are nothing next to the power of the Dark Side.”

 

He raised his hand and cast a burst of lightning from his hand.

 

Master Wixas leaped out of the way, clinging to the vines on the wall. When Scorpius sent another bolt at him, he leaped away, crossing the courtyard.

 

He was zooming all over, driving Scorpius in circles. Finally, the Sith roared in annoyance and sent a massive storm at him.

 

This time, Master Wixas wasn’t quick enough to escape. The wave of electricity caught him and filled his small frame.

 

“Master…Branxis…” the miniscule Jedi gasped desperately. “Flee…before…”

 

His broken and lifeless body dropped into the fountain.

 

“No! Master Wixas!” the last Jedi Master bewailed. Then he turned his face to the Sith, a fire glowing in his eyes. “Dark One,” he said harshly, “you have killed many this day, but you will kill no more!”

 

“Perhaps you might prove more of a challenge?” Scorpius sneered.

 

The Jedi charged, and their blades crashed together. For a while it was a continual back and forth of attacking and defending.

 

Their footwork led them around the courtyard. Both of their attacks were fierce, and their parries were precise.

 

Finally, their blades were locked together, neither side giving way. They glared at each other straight in the eye.

 

“I will stop you,” Branxis growled.

 

“Fool,” Scorpius snarled. “You’ve already lost.”

 

He lifted his foot and thrust a quick, hard kick right into the Jedi’s kneecap.

 

Branxis cried out in pain as Scorpius broke free and slashed the Jedi along his abdomen.

 

The whole courtyard grew quiet and still. The water still churned, and his saber still hummed, but Scorpius enjoyed the sudden silence.

 

Then he turned around and exited the courtyard. He made his way through the halls, back to the remnants of his army. They had sustained heavy losses – but not nearly as bad as the Republic had.

 

Oddly enough, he had seen no sign of the Jedi he didn’t happen to kill.

 

One of the Ghost agents approached him.

 

“Report,” he growled.

 

“The Republic fleet has retreated; all ground forces that were able to escape on ships have fled. There are…no survivors remaining on the planet’s surface.”

 

Scorpius smiled. “Excellent. This is a grand victory for the Empire – due in no small part to your works, agent. What is your name?”

 

“Anna-sa Kyja, my lord,” she replied.

 

He nodded. “I’ll be sure to give my best regards to the Dark Council on your work, Agent Kyja, and the work of all the Ghost Corps.”

 

“Thank you, my lord.”

 

Scorpius breathed in the cold air and sighed proudly. The war had begun again – and very well for the Empire…again.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Seven

 

Targon awoke to the familiar groaning and complaining of Rick. He was in a bright room, on a medical bed. He was staring up into a blinding light.

 

Turning his head, he saw Rick lying on a bed next to him. Three nurses and Gabrielle were trying to change the bandages on his abdomen. Rick was being uncooperative.

 

“For goodness sake, Rick,” Gabrielle growled. “Grow a pair and deal with the discomfort. I know it hurts – it hurts to get shot. Now that we’ve settled that matter, shut up and be a good patient.”

 

“How can I calm down when it hurts like…?”

 

“Wh-What happened?” Targon asked wearily.

 

“You got lucky to be alive,” he heard Greyhawk reply.

 

Targon turned over and saw the old soldier sitting beside his bed, with a relieved smile on his face.

 

“Lucky?”

 

Greyhawk scratched the whiskers that had grown on his chin. “That or you’re blessed by whatever supernatural force there is in the universe.”

 

“How about telling me?” Targon coughed.

 

The old soldier sighed. “It was pretty bad, Targon. The whole fortress fell within the day. We got Rick to the ship as you held off the Sith…we thought you were dead.”

 

“What made you think that?”

 

“Because there was this giant explosion that leveled everything around where we left you. But we were obviously wrong.”

 

“I…how did I get out of there?”

 

“We can answer that,” Aric Trinn said as he walked up. “It’s good to see you awake, Targon.” Next to him was Master Talandar.

 

The Kaalian said, “I had gone ahead before the Ghost Corps betrayed us. I found Lt. Colonel Trinn and his squad after I felt Master Salar’s death.”

 

“We got him in our speeder and hurried back to the citadel,” Aric continued. “We found you and the other Jedi in a blasted area…not sure what happened. You didn’t look good at all – out like a light.”

 

“Taking you two along, we got to your captain’s ship,” Talandar said. “The battle was lost and Cordillian was calling for a retreat before everyone was killed.”

 

“Is Xana alright?” Targon asked.

 

“She’s fine,” Greyhawk answered. “She stayed with you the whole time – we almost had to drag her off to report to the Council.”

 

“We’re on Tython?”

 

“No,” Greyhawk shook his head. “Coruscant.”

 

“Targon,” Master Talandar’s tone was suddenly melancholy. “There’s bad news…”

 

“Master Salar,” Targon nodded sadly. “With the betrayal…”

 

“It’s more than just that,” the Kaalian shook his head. “Masters Branxis, Rahn, and Wixas fell as well.”

 

Targon’s eyes widened. “What? How? When?”

 

“Easy there,” Greyhawk put a strong hand on his shoulder. “You’re not quite well enough to be getting all excited.”

 

“Master Je’and told us of a Sith Lord that fought them at their final stand,” Aric said grimly. “They fought bravely to the end…but the Sith was too powerful.”

 

“Who?” Targon asked.

 

“We don’t know,” Talandar replied. “We believe it was the commander of the attack…but it was not one we had ever seen before.”

 

Targon lay back and closed his eyes, trying to relax and let the bad news soak in. But he was disturbed by Rick’s sudden cry of pain.

 

“That’s it!” Gabrielle growled furiously. “I may have to whack you on the back of the head to get you down.”

 

“Hah!” Rick scoffed. “You wouldn’t dare…”

 

There was a whack, and then Rick was quiet.

 

Footsteps grew louder as Master Cyrus entered and approached the bed.

 

Talandar bowed his head, and Aric saluted. Cyrus smiled mildly at them both and nodded.

 

“Would you excuse us?” he asked calmly.

 

The nodded and left. Greyhawk gave Targon’s shoulder a pat and followed. Once alone, Cyrus sat next to Targon’s bed.

 

“Master Cyrus…” Targon said weakly. “I’m sorry…I failed…”

 

“The battle was a great tragedy for all,” Cyrus said softly. “We shall mourn for the loss of Master Rahn and Master Wixas and all that fell in the brave defense…but we shall celebrate their becoming one with the Force.”

 

“That’s not what I meant…” Targon said sadly.

 

“I know,” Cyrus nodded. His speckled skin glittered in the light. “Xana told us what happened with the Sith. You fought bravely, Targon. You held them back and allowed your friends to escape – as a true Jedi.”

 

“But I…”

 

Cyrus placed his hand on Targon’s shoulder. “The temptation of the Dark Side is always there, Targon. It doesn’t get any easier as a master, believe me.”

 

“What shall I expect for discipline?” Targon asked.

 

“Discipline?” Cyrus sighed. “Rest,” he said simply. “Rest and remember those we have lost. As to the future, we must be ready to continue with the conflict that has ignited. This battle may have been the first, but there will be more. And the Republic must prevail, or all shall fall into darkness.”

 

“I will do my best,” Targon nodded. “But it doesn’t seem the Council sees me fit to be teaching anyone.”

 

Cyrus smiled. “On the contrary,” he shook his head. “We have heard Xana’s account, and the accounts of others. There is a connection between you two, Targon. What you did together…you may have stumbled into a dark ditch, but with her help, you came out of it soon enough.”

 

“So she should train me,” Targon sighed.

 

Cyrus laughed softly. “No, Targon. The master teaches the student, but the student also teaches the master. They need each other – and you need Xana as much as she needs you.”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“Simply put,” Cyrus stood. “You are henceforth Targon Karashi, Jedi Knight and teacher of fellow Jedi Knight, Xana Kalar.”

 

Targon smiled weakly. “Is that the Council’s decision? Or yours?”

 

“The Council’s,” Cyrus answered. “But this is from me…”

 

He pulled out a package and opened it, and then he held it up.

 

“Your robes were destroyed in the battle, as I’m sure you know. It must have been cold. It won’t do to have a Jedi without robes…but I think you deserve something special.”

 

He held up the robe. It was silver and brown, and it was complemented by a green cloak.

 

“Not the garb of a Jedi,” Targon observed.

 

“Perhaps not,” Cyrus nodded. “But you’ve made a name for yourself, Targon. The Wandering Knight of the Lone Eagle…Okay, I coined that myself. I also made this myself.”

“I can’t accept this…”

 

“Of course you can,” Cyrus said, placing the package on the bed. “Your master wore animal skins and an antlered cowl, after all. What’s the harm in following his example? You are Targon Karashi, young Jedi, and you need to show the galaxy you know who you are.”

 

---

 

Viruul tapped his fingers against his chair impatiently as Lord Scorpius droned on and on about his “glorious victory over the paltry Republic and foolish Jedi defenders”. And then there was Mortis taking every opportunity to beam with pride behind his faceless mask with every event.

 

Finally, Scorpius ended after praising the success of the Ghost Corps and Operation Hidden Blade. He then finished with his recount of the slaying of three famed Jedi Masters – two from the High Council itself.

 

Viruul was grateful when the speech finally ended.

 

“Well,” Hades smiled. “You are to be commended for a successful attack, Lord Scorpius. And for the way you took care of several threatening Jedi.”

 

“Hardly threatening,” Mortis waved his hand. “They are no match for the Dark Side. The rest of the Jedi Order will soon share their fate.”

 

Viruul was sick of it. “Do not forget, Mortis, the war has only begun. Your apprentice must prove his power in other campaigns as well. We aren’t about to promote him to this Council because of a single victory.”

 

“Of course,” Mortis nodded. “But you…”

 

Viruul cut him off. “Also, do not forget that there were others that shared in this successful battle – apart from Lord Scorpius. Commander Gerald, Lord Hellion, Lord Vinitar…”

 

“I get your meaning,” Mortis growled.

 

“Do you?” Viruul asked. Then he shook his head, turning to Scorpius. “Well done, thou good and faithful servant of the Empire, Lord Scorpius. Go now, and prepare for your next assignment.” He made no effort to hide the sarcasm in his tone.

 

Scorpius bowed and left. Once he was gone, Viruul yawned.

 

“Well, this has been a good meeting, my lords. Now, I think we can adjourn…”

 

“You do not dictate the sessions of the Dark Council,” Mortis hissed, folding his arms.

 

Hades slammed the ground with his cane. “Yes, the council is adjourned. We shall meet again tomorrow.”

 

Viruul was the first one out. He nearly flew down the corridor and arrived at his chamber in record time.

 

Once the door was closed he dropped into his desk chair and sighed with massive frustration. He thought that meeting would never end…and that boy’s speech…

 

He sat for a while, brooding on the whole thing. Scorpius was successful…he had killed two of the Jedi Council and led the forces to a relatively easy victory – for him, anyway.

 

Hellion, Vinitar, and that girl, Arachne, had also shown promise and strength and capability in the battle. They would bring glory, not only to themselves, but their masters as well.

 

That was when it came to him. He realized what he needed to do if he was to stay ahead of his rivals.

 

At once, he reached over and activated the holoprojector. An image of a Twi’lek in a re-breather mask appeared.

 

“My lord,” the figure bowed. “An unexpected honor…”

 

“Dispense with the pleasantries, Tiburon,” Viruul said quickly. “I’m not in the mood.”

 

“As you wish, my lord,” Tiburon conceded.

 

“I require your assistance,” Viruul stated.

 

“How can I serve?”

 

“Lord Mortis’ apprentice has won a great victory on Viserys. And Lord Hades’ hunters are powerful. Even that Bugger Sith friend of yours has a new and promising apprentice.”

 

“That freak is hardly a friend…” Tiburon protested.

 

“Regardless,” Viruul waved it off. “I now see what I need.”

 

“And what is that, my lord?”

 

Viruul lowered his voice. “Despite the…incident that occurred not too long ago with the new acolytes…have you any powerful and promising students at the academy?”

 

“I can think of a few…” Tiburon nodded.

 

Viruul leaned in close. “Find me the best – the fiercest, cruelest, most dangerous student you have. I am looking for my own apprentice.”

 

Conclusion of Episode Eleven

[TargonKarashi]

Episode Twelve – Ghost Ship

 

Chapter One

 

Targon awoke with a start. He had been dreaming again…the same dream for the last ten days since the Battle of Broken Truce – as it had come to be called by the Republic.

 

A horrid spider was hunting him, ceaselessly chasing him through dark hallways. Whenever he cried out for help, the walls devoured his voice. He couldn’t stop to fight the creature, for every time he tried he was filled with terror.

 

So all he could do was keep running. As he kept running, a dark shadow followed close behind, just out of sight, yet its presence was always there. It sought him, but it didn’t work with the monster. Instead it tried to…get around the spider…but it wasn’t able to.

 

The harder he ran, the quicker the spider closed in to catch him. He could feel its hot breath down his neck, poisonous fumes rising from the monster’s mouth.

 

A voice called out to him in his mind. It was a familiar voice…but he couldn’t figure out whose it was. It told him to fight back…even though he couldn’t.

 

Another voice told him not to fight, but also not to run. It told him that there was another answer…something else he could find that would bring an end to the nightmare.

 

Caught between the conflicting voices, he tripped, and the spider grabbed him and started to devour him.

 

And then he was in his bunk, sitting up, with both sheets and skin drenched in sweat. His breathing was heavy, and his mind was clouded with fear.

 

He stood up and took a shower, cleaning the sweat and fear out of him. The water was calming…yet he still felt uneasy, as though he everything was just a little off-balance.

 

Getting out of the shower, he dried himself and got dressed. Passing a mirror, he stopped and reflected his new outfit. Despite the time that passed, it still seemed odd to see himself in such nicer robes – with green and silver with the brown. He still looked like a Jedi…but more like those unorthodox ones – like Zar’kun or Master Cyrus.

 

He started walking through the halls. Oddly, no one was around – not in the bunkrooms, not in the main or cargo holds.

 

Then he found them all crammed into the cockpit.

 

“What’s going on?” he asked.

 

Sorgal turned around and placed a finger to his mouth and pointed to a screen above the console. There was an image of a cruel and foul man.

 

“Pirates,” Gabrielle mouthed to him.

 

Targon looked out the window and saw a large, junky, yet heavily armed ship alongside them.

 

Rick sighed as he sat in the pilot’s chair. “Is this going to take much longer?”

 

The man growled. “We’ve finished scanning your ship, Rick Orlan. It appears your claim of having no valuable cargo was true.”

 

“I told you so, Thaxis,” Rick sighed.

 

The pirate scowled at him. “No cargo, and no attempt to put up a fight. I’m disappointed. You are without a doubt the worst smuggler I’ve ever heard of, Rick Orlan.”

 

“Ah,” Rick held up a finger. “But you have heard of me.”

 

Greyhawk leaned forward. “Look, Captain Kane, you scanned our vessel, we’re not threat and we’ve got nothing you want. So can we go now?”

 

The pirate laughed, a loud and booming laughter. “It doesn’t work like that, old man. No one escapes the grasp of Thaxis Kane unscathed. I may not want to kill you or strip your ship, but you’re going to have to do me a favor to get out of this.”

 

Rick sighed and rubbed his temple. “What? You want us to do a sing and dance for you?”

 

The pirate lit a cigar and took a huff. “Nope. I want your help in a salvage mission.”

 

“Salvage?”

 

“That’s right,” the man nodded. “I’m latching onto your ship and taking us both to the coordinates. Any resistance will be met with deadly force. You help with the salvage, and then you and your pals can go free.”

 

Rick shook his head. “I guess there isn’t a choice…”

 

“No, there isn’t. Good thing you’re not stupid as well as pathetic, Rick Orlan.”

 

The image blinked out and the ship moved to latch onto the Lone Eagle. Then the two jumped to hyperspace.

 

“Okay,” Targon finally said. “Can someone please tell me what’s going on?”

 

Rick turned around and sighed. “Sorry, Targon…we tried to wake you.”

 

“Tried?”

 

“The door to your room was locked,” Greyhawk stated. “Nothing we did could budge it…Sorgal even tried to cut the door but nothing happened.”

 

“Other than get me real mad,” Rick grumbled.

 

“So what’s happened?” Targon asked.

 

“We’ve been set upon by pirates,” Navor growled. “A dirty lot from the Horned Demon. Their captain is Thaxis Kane, a brigand that’s scourged hyperspace lanes for thirty years…even I know about him.”

 

“And it looks like we’ve been shanghaied into service,” Rick said angrily. “They wanted a quick score, but since we don’t have anything, they’ve got us helping them in some assignment.”

 

“And what assignment is that?” Targon asked.

 

“No clue,” Rick shrugged.

 

Just then, the ships lurched out of hyperspace. Out the window was a sight that made everyone jump…and then gape.

 

Outside was a giant Imperial dreadnaught. It was still, the lights were out and there was no notion that it cared about their presence.

 

“See that, fellas?” Kane’s voice said over the intercom. “That’s the battlecruiser Wraith. It’s been just sitting there derelict for the last seven hours. Lucky I was here to find it before anyone else.”

 

“Just a second,” Rick nearly shouted over the comm. “You’re suggesting we help you loot an Imperial warship?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“With no thought as to why it’s abandoned? If it really is?”

 

“That’s why I brought you along,” Kane laughed. “Scans haven’t detected anything other than a breathable atmosphere on board and only two working hangars. We’ll be landing together and taking a look together.”

 

“This is stupid,” Rick folded his arms.

 

“But it’s what you’re going to do,” Kane countered. “Come on…what’s the worst that can happen in a salvaging job?”

 

Targon shuddered as he felt an odd aura around the derelict ship. “What indeed?” he muttered under his breath.

 

---

 

Both ships landed in the nearest hangar. Emergency lights flickered about, but the lights from the ships illuminated the landing pads. Most things were in shambles, and sparks flew from destroyed panels on the walls.

 

The crew started down the ramp into the hangar, fully armed. More than a dozen armed, filthy, and gruff pirates were waiting for them.

 

At their head was Thaxis Kane. He was much larger than he looked in the image, well over six feet tall. He had a scruffy black beard and wore battered gray armor. At his side were three blaster pistols and a vibrosword.

 

He took a huff from his cigar and smiled. “Now see here, fellas,” he exhaled a plume of smoke. “I’m keeping you armed until we know what’s going on and if there’s any danger. But I warn you – any funny business and my boys will kill you in an instant.”

 

“Yeah, yeah, we get the deal,” Rick rolled his eyes and held up his hands to show no hostility.

 

“Don’t be fooled by their appearance,” Kane warned. “My boys are more dangerous than a rabid rancor.”

 

“And you shouldn’t think we’re just kittens,” Navor countered.

 

“I’ll take the attitude, but make any moves, kitty, and you’ll be a stain on the floor.”

 

Kane pointed to two of his men that stood out from the ragged others. One was a Nautolan, heavily scarred and a patch over one eye, and held a high-power, double-barreled blaster rifle. The other was a human, his face completely masked by a T-visor helmet, and the rest of his body covered by a green poncho. At his side was a curved vibroblade.

 

“See these boys?” Kane raised his bushy eyebrows. “These are my best men – the most deadly pair in the Outer Rim, I’ll wager. Tentacle-head is Chopper, and the masked one is Krayt.”

 

“Did you give them nicknames to try to scare people?” Greyhawk asked.

 

“No, they were already called them when they signed on. Chopper’s a real good chef – and he likes show off his twin barrels. Krayt was mauled by one of those dragons on Tattooine; he doesn’t talk hardly at all, but he knows how to slice you up.”

 

“Well, this is going to be fun,” Gabrielle muttered.

 

“It won’t be so bad if you all keep your mouth shut,” Kane stated. “So zip it and let’s go.”

 

Targon whispered to the others, “I’ve got a real bad feeling…we need to all stick together.”

 

“Spare us the rhetoric,” Navor growled. “We all know what we need to do…and that’s crush these crooks the first chance we get.”

 

“What’s with the attitude?” Rick asked.

 

“Yeah,” Sorgal nodded. “You’re sounding a little dark for a Jedi.”

 

“Shut it, Sith,” Navor spat.

 

Targon raised an eyebrow at Navor’s strange behavior. It wasn’t like him at all…but then, there really was something wrong about this ship.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Two

 

Thaxis kept the group towards the front, with his two best men keeping a close eye on them. The rest of the pirate crew followed behind. They all wore headlamps to see and kept their weapons raised.

 

As they made their way further in to the ship, they found that many of the consoles, lights, and other systems were torn apart and ripped through. Panels were ajar, a few sparks flew from stripped wiring, and strange gashes had cut through the walls and floor and ceiling.

 

There were only a few bodies that they found…or at least parts of them.

 

“Something ain’t right,” a pirate muttered. “There’s nothing on scanners…and yet something obviously happened here.”

 

“Quiet,” Kane raised his hand and ordered. Everyone was still – and then they heard the light scurrying in the panels above them and below them.

 

“What’s beyond these panels?” Greyhawk asked.

 

“There’s not supposed to be anything,” Kane growled. “There are some Jefferies tubes running between the decks…but not close enough for us to be able to hear anything.”

 

“How do you know about the ship’s makeup?” Rick asked.

 

“Because I’ve been on more than my fair share of Imperial warships,” the pirate captain replied.

 

“Wait,” Targon said suddenly. “Listen!”

 

There was the sound of footsteps down the corridor. Many footsteps.

 

“How far?” Kane asked Chopper.

 

The Nautolan listened closely. “Three halls down…maybe a thirty yards…”

 

Kane pulled out a blaster. “Come on, lads,” he whispered. “Let’s pay them a visit.”

 

“What if it’s not the crew?” Gabrielle asked.

 

“Doesn’t matter, toots,” Kane huffed his cigar. “We’ll kill them anyway.”

 

The captain led the way, and the pirates forced the group to follow closely behind him. They walked slowly and quietly, listening close to the footsteps as they drew nearer.

 

Finally, they stopped and waited at a door where they were certain the others were on the other side. They raised their weapons, locked and readied them…and waited.

 

After a long moment of silence, the door opened. The pirates readied their guns – but they found an equal number of guns pointed at them.

 

Imperials.

 

At their lead was a Sith, and he activated his lightsaber. Illuminated by his red glow, Targon saw that it was the Pureblood from Korriban. Darth Centuro.

 

“Alright, folks, that’s far enough,” Kane said with the cigar in his mouth. “Put down your weapons and get down on the ground.”

 

“You don’t frighten us, pirate scum!” Centuro growled.

 

Laughter came from behind him, and a pale skinned Zabrak appeared at his side, parting through the Imperial marines.

 

“Look what we have here,” Arachne sneered. “Fugitives and brigands on an empty vessel – looking for a quick score…but finding trouble.”

 

“You’re the one in trouble, lady,” Kane growled. “I’ve got a bunch of boys that haven’t had a woman in weeks.”

 

Targon looked over the squad of Imperials. Most were faceless soldiers, but he recognized two other people besides the Sith.

 

One was a bounty hunter with a missing hand that he remembered from Nar Shaddaa. The other was a red-haired, white clothed Imperial Agent.

 

“You!” Navor hissed when he recognized her.

 

Anna-sa Kyja looked just as surprised to see them as they were to see her. But her surprise wasn’t angry, it was alarmed and…guilty?

 

“You have no business on this vessel, pirate,” Centuro stated. “I suggest you get out of here right now and forget you were ever here.”

 

“This ship’s abandoned,” Kane scoffed. “And I’m pretty darn sure you’re not part of the crew. You all look like an investigatory group. So that means this place is fair game for my boys.”

 

“The Wraith belongs to the Empire,” Arachne snarled. “You’d better get off or I’ll kill you all.”

 

“Bold words from a little lady,” Chopper laughed. “You won’t be so bold after I shove my blaster up your tail pipe.”

 

Centuro roared, “Scum! Kill them all!”

 

Guns were raised and ready to be fired, until a voice called out and stood between the groups.

 

It was Rick.

 

“Whoah, whoah, whoah,” he said loudly. Everyone was quiet and stared at him with confusion. “Just let me get this straight,” he then said. “You’re going to kill each other on an empty ship…and none of you have any idea why it is empty?”

 

There was silence.

 

“I’m just saying,” Rick continued. “Did it occur to anyone that there might have been a reason for this ship just sitting here, damaged and derelict? Eh?”

 

Kane took a deep huff of his cigar. “Are you suggesting that we work together, Rick?”

 

“Not bloody likely!” Centuro hissed.

 

“No, no,” Rick raised his hands. “I’m just saying that we all should review our priorities and see what’s most important. No sense in killing each other when something else might.”

 

Targon raised an eyebrow. He was surprised to be seeing Rick playing the peacekeeper in this situation…between pirates and Imperials, no less.

 

The crippled bounty hunter holstered his blaster. “The smuggler makes sense. I’m getting paid to investigate the ship, not fight pirates. And I want to be alive to collect my fee.”

 

Arachne smiled as she looked over the group, and then turned to Kane. “Tell you what, Captain,” she began. “Hand over these miscreants and we’ll let you go on with your business.”

 

“You don’t have the authority to treat with this scum!” Centuro whirled on her. “I am in charge of this mission.”

 

Kane took another huff. “What’s this bunch of fools to you, lady?”

 

“They are enemies of the Empire,” Centuro answered before Arachne could.

 

“So are a lot of people,” Kane nodded. “What are they worth?”

 

“More than you could salvage,” Arachne replied, glaring at Centuro.

 

“Then maybe I’ll turn them in after I strip this ship,” Kane grinned.

 

“You’d have to be alive to do that,” Centuro raised his saber.

 

There was another bit of scurrying in the walls…louder this time, and coming from several directions. Everyone stopped and glanced around, wondering what the noise was.

 

Then it was silent.

 

The bounty hunter shrugged. “Must be mynocks or something…”

 

Horrid creatures burst from the ceiling, walls, and floor. They were shrieking and howling, and they tore through Imperials and pirates with vicious claws and wicked teeth.

 

Chaos erupted as shots were fired and men started shouting. It was dark, and the creatures seemed to blend into the shadows.

 

Then, for a brief moment, someone’s light caught on to a beast. It was humanoid, with rough, scaly skin…blue skin.

 

Rick screamed, and the whole group knew what it was. They tried to run, but the chaos around made it impossible to get out together.

 

Soon they were all separated, and everyone was scattering. And then they were all running.

 

People were screaming as they were torn apart by the beasts. Shooting echoed through the halls, as well as howling and snarling and the shredding of cloth and flesh.

 

And a frightening, yet familiar woman’s laughter resounded through the corridors of the ship.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Three

 

A large group was running down the corridor, all running desperately. But none as fast or frightened as Rick. Gabrielle and Sorgal were having a real hard time keeping up with him.

 

Behind them were Kane and many of his pirates, but Chopper and Krayt were not among them. Also, Centuro was shouting as he, the bounty hunter, and many Imperial marines followed with them.

 

They were closely pursued by a mob of creatures, keeping hidden in the dark. Their howling and growling was close – too close for anyone to care about whether those around them were friends or enemies.

 

Rick saw a door up ahead with controls that looked still functional. He got through and pressed the button to start the closing of the blast doors. Gabrielle and Sorgal got through, and so did Thaxis.

 

The pirate captain shoved Rick aside and pressed the button to hold the doors open, so that his men could get through. A few pirates made it, but then Centuro’s saber started cutting a path through them.

 

The Pureblood came through, followed closely by the bounty hunter. Then Centuro closed the blast doors and destroyed the controls.

 

“You bastard!” Kane roared. “My boys are still out there!”

 

Centuro raised his saber towards the captain. “They’re already dead,” he hissed.

 

Behind the thick doors, they could hear the unfortunate others screaming and shooting, and the roars of the beasts overpowered them.

 

“Those were my boys!” Kane roared. “I’ll kill you!”

 

Centuro gripped his throat with the Force and lifted him in the air. “I lost men too, pirate. But the doors had to be closed and we’re still alive.” Finally, he let Kane drop to the ground. Everyone was watching him closely.

 

Kane rubbed his throat and glared at him furiously.

 

Centuro ignored him. “Look, in order for any of us to survive, you need to do exactly as I say.”

 

“Why should we listen to you?” a pirate asked.

 

The Pureblood replied by lifting him into the air. “Because I’m in charge,” he snarled.

 

“Gotcha,” the man gasped.

 

Centuro let him go. “Now, it’s quite apparent that the ship has been overrun by some sort of creatures. We need to get to set the main core of the ship to detonate and get out of here.”

 

“What sort of plan is that?” the bounty hunter asked harshly. “Just blow the core? Are you nuts? I didn’t sign on for this!”

 

Centuro pointed his saber at him. “This is my command, Jet Harro, and you were hired to follow my orders.”

 

Behind his helmet, the bounty hunter rolled his eyes and sighed.

 

Kane stood. “Well, Sith, your ship isn’t nearby, but mine is. What makes you think you can start dictating stupid plans? I’m the one calling the shots.”

 

“I think not,” Centuro glared at him. His eyes were filled with rage, fear, and perhaps even a bit of panic. “You will do as I say.”

 

“I will not!”

 

All the pirates around him suddenly said at once, “I will do as you say.”

 

Kane glanced at them all, and then stared back at the Sith. “Damn you,” he spat. “Your mind tricks won’t work on me.” He then turned to his men. “Snap out of it, boys!”

 

“They’re mine now,” Centuro smiled. “Now, if you know what’s smart, you’ll do as I say.”

 

Kane glared at him and looked ready to pull out his blaster. But then he sighed. “For now,” he muttered.

 

Centuro nodded, but then he noticed that the members of the crew of the Lone Eagle weren’t with them anymore.

 

“Where are they?!” he roared.

 

“Maybe they ran off while you were trying to spout orders,” Jet snorted.

 

“Find them!” the Pureblood ordered the pirates and marines. He glanced at Kane. “You stick around, pirate filth. I don’t want you striking out on your own.” Then he turned to the bounty hunter. “Since you think you’re so smart, Jet, why don’t you go and set the core to detonate?”

 

“No, I don’t think I will,” the bounty hunter growled.

 

Kane smirked. “Looks like you’re alone in this,” he said as he folded his arms.

 

Centuro roared and smacked the bounty hunter. His blow was hard enough that it caused Jet to cringe, even from beneath his armor.

 

“How about I cut off your other hand?” the Sith asked.

 

Jet Harro seethed beneath his armor. “You expect me to go alone?”

 

Centuro scowled. “Hook up with Arachne,” he said simply. “The two of you should be able to handle yourselves fine.”

 

Jet threw up his hands in resignation and stormed off.

 

The Pureblood turned to Kane. “Now, let’s see about your ship.”

 

---

 

Targon was running. His whole body was shaking with fear, and he didn’t care who was with him. He just kept running.

 

Behind, he could hear the beasts pursuing. They were relentless, and it seemed they didn’t tire. But he definitely was.

 

Three Imperials were with them, but the marines stopped to fire at the creatures, and so they were overtaken.

 

Finally, Targon made it into a room and closed the door. He panted and closed his eyes, listening to the beasts pounding on the door but unable to get through.

 

For now, at least.

 

He turned and looked around. He was in a large mess hall – though it was completely empty.

 

Targon then saw just who was with him. Old Greyhawk was there, panting and checking his blaster clip. Navor was brooding a little ways off, pacing around the empty tables.

And then all three of them noticed Anna-sa Kyja.

 

“You’ve got five seconds to give me a good reason not to blow your head off,” Greyhawk said immediately, pointing his gun at her.

 

The Imperial Agent didn’t make any retaliatory moves. She just looked at him, leaning on her rifle.

 

“How about that we need each other to survive?” she shrugged.

 

“We don’t need you,” Navor growled. “In fact, we’ll probably live longer without you. We know now what your intentions really were.”

 

She shook her head. “It’s not that simple.”

 

“Isn’t it?” Targon asked. “You’re a cipher agent – your whole Ghost Corps was an Imperial infiltration. You turned on us in our greatest need at Viserys. You killed a lot of good men.”

 

“Soldiers and Jedi,” Greyhawk added. “You’re a traitor and a fiend.”

 

Kyja’s eyes were sad. “I…I was following orders.”

 

“Of course you were,” Navor bared his teeth. “That’s how everyone justifies things, isn’t it?”

 

Targon noted the odd sadness in her features. “Aren’t you a loyal servant of the Empire? Why should you feel sorry for any of us with the Republic?”

 

Kyja looked squarely at him. “You think it’s easy to be a double agent? You think it’s easy to infiltrate people and earn their trust…and then betray it in a heartbeat?”

 

“You obviously didn’t have a problem,” Greyhawk snorted.

 

“I did,” Kyja countered. “I saw Master Salar’s despair…”

 

“…right up until the moment you killed him?” Navor snarled. “Oh yes, it must have been a terrible thing. So terrible you couldn’t even take a moment’s hesitation to question your orders.”

 

“I questioned them,” Kyja lowered her eyes and stared at the ground. “I didn’t want to go through with it…but the Empire’s orders are very strict. Any insubordination leads to death.”

 

“At least you would have died nobly,” Navor hissed.

 

Targon shook his head. It only took a short bit of thinking before he understood. “It’s not as simple as we’re making it out to be,” he sighed. “We’re looking at her situation from the view of the betrayed, not the betrayer or the one who gave the order.”

 

Kyja looked up at him, confused yet hopeful. “I…The Empire is my home. I was born on Dromund Kaas, I was raised under the Imperial banner, and I trained as an agent. But…but that didn’t make killing people loyal to the Republic any easier.”

 

Targon sighed. “We were all following orders,” he shook his head softly.

 

Greyhawk lowered his blaster and nodded. “I…I know what it’s like to be a friend of the enemy and have orders to kill them.”

 

“What’s wrong with you two?” Navor growled furiously. “Have you both been caught in her deceptions again?”

 

“No, Navor,” Targon shook his head. “We can’t get caught up in the past and the war right now. We need to work together to survive.”

 

“We all know what those creatures mean,” Greyhawk stated.

 

“Of course I know!” Navor shouted. “I know full well! I know what those monsters are and who created them! But have you all lost your minds to think of working with an Imperial Agent to fight her!”

 

“Lost our minds?” Greyhawk spat. “How about looking in the mirror, Navor?”

 

Targon looked closely at the Cathar Jedi. He was tense and his muscles twitched. His eyes shone with a barely contained fury. His fur had gotten thin and was starting to shed a bit…and the blue stripes were spreading.

 

“You…” Targon gasped. “Navor…you’re not looking well…”

 

“No, I’m not!” Navor snarled. “I’m on a ship with the monster that killed my apprentice, that killed the colony I was charged to protect…and I’m in the same room with the woman that betrayed us on Viserys!”

 

“I’m sorry,” Kyja said weakly.

 

Navor responded by roaring at her and igniting his sabers.

 

“Navor!” Targon shouted. “Don’t!”

 

Just then, the walls burst open, and creatures started pouring in. Greyhawk had his gun up and was firing away, and Navor turned his anger on the swarming beasts, cutting them down in droves.

 

But it wasn’t long until the room was being overwhelmed. More creatures appeared out of the ceiling. Somehow, the beasts were tunneling through the hull of the ship.

 

Targon had his saber out and was aiding in the fight against the beasts. But it wasn’t looking good…there were just so many of them.

 

“This way!” they heard Kyja shout.

 

She had opened up one of the ventilation grates and was pointing for them to get in. Using her rifle, she covered them while they got in, and then she followed herself.

 

Pulling out a can with a strange smelling gel, she poured the contents on the grate and sealed it behind them. The creatures snarled and clawed at the vent, but they couldn’t get past the grate. For now.

 

They started crawling through the vents, none of them saying a word. Navor still seemed to seethe with anger, but Greyhawk led the way calmly.

 

Targon stopped when he noticed a large clump of Navor’s hair having fallen off his skin. He looked at it carefully, and the brittleness and thinness bothered him. Something about being around these creatures was causing the infection in Navor to start up again.

 

He just hoped they could get out of this before it got much worse.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Four

 

Xana wasn’t exactly alone – though she felt she might as well have been. There weren’t any Imperials with her, and most of the pirates had been killed. All except for the two men she happened to be stuck with.

 

Chopper and Krayt.

 

The man was silent and brooding as he had been from the beginning, but the Nautolan was trembling and jumping at every little noise. He pointed his gun at just about everything in sight.

 

The three of them had been lucky to escape the beasts as they stopped and tore the others apart. They had gotten three corridors ahead, and then they cut through a large room, and now it looked like they were safe.

 

But Chopper wouldn’t be satisfied. His one good eye was scanning everything, and his lip quivered with fear.

 

For some reason, Xana didn’t think this was the proper behavior for a toughened pirate. She kept her eyes away from contact with his, so as to make sure he didn’t start suspecting her of being a threat.

 

“What was that?” Chopper asked fearfully for the fifth time in the last ten minutes.

 

“Oh for crying out loud,” Xana stopped and turned around. “Would you stop it? You’re wasting your energy in being paranoid when you should be ready for when there’s a real problem.”

 

“Shut up, schutta,” the Nautolan growled at him. “You don’t live long if you don’t keep an eye on any possible danger.”

 

“And what happened to that eye?”

 

Chopper pointed his blaster at her chest. “I don’t need your attitude, lady. You’re pretty enough to look at, but I’ve got no qualms about shooting a girl if she’s annoying enough.”

 

“Much tougher men than you have tried,” Xana shook her head. “Come on, we need to stick with each other if we want to make it out.”

 

“No,” Chopper hissed. “No, I’m not going anywhere with you!”

 

“What’s wrong with you?”

 

“You’re trying to get into my head!” Chopper roared. “I can hear it…a woman’s voice…your voice!”

 

“I’m not doing anything,” Xana shook her head, suddenly afraid.

 

“NO!” The pirate roared, “I’ll kill you!”

 

“What are you doing?” Xana cried out as Chopper readied to fire his blaster at her. She tried to get her lightsaber, but it didn’t look like she was going to be fast enough. Instead, she dropped to the floor as the blaster bolt flew over her.

 

She looked up helplessly as the Nautolan readied to take another shot at her. His face was a horrid scowl, and his eye was full of madness.

 

Then he stopped and gasped. A blade stuck through his chest, and Krayt was holding the other end.

 

The silent pirate let the man drop to the ground, leaving the blade in Chopper’s back. He glanced at Xana, his face indiscernible from behind the mask.

 

Xana was breathing fast and hard, but she felt relieved that the danger was gone.

 

“Thank you,” she gasped.

 

Krayt said nothing, instead, he simply walked off. In a few moments, he disappeared.

 

Xana stood, and was about to start worrying about actually being alone when she heard footsteps coming towards her.

 

“Ah, there you are,” Rick said. Xana turned and saw the captain, Gabrielle, and Sorgal there.

 

“You guys are alright,” she sighed with relief.

 

“Last time we checked,” Sorgal shrugged. “Where are the others?”

 

“I don’t know,” Xana shook her head. “I haven’t seen Navor, Greyhawk, or Targon since we got separated.”

 

Rick groaned. “Well, we’ll just have to hope they can make their way back to the ship. Come on, we need to get out of here.”

 

---

 

Targon and the others exited the ventilation system at last, finding themselves in an engineering room. Blank screens were broken and damaged, and sparks flew from the wires.

 

There were two doors, but one of them was open. The group headed for that one, and Kyja pointed out that it was the quickest way to the hangar with the Lone Eagle.

 

Greyhawk, Navor, and Kyja went through, but as Targon was about to follow, the door closed and was magnetically sealed.

 

“What the…?” Greyhawk’s voice said from behind the door.

 

“The door’s sealed,” Targon said. “I can’t seem to get it open.”

 

“What can we do?” Kyja asked.

 

Targon sighed. “I’ll see about finding a different way. You guys go on ahead.”

 

“That’s probably not a good idea,” Greyhawk stated.

 

“No, it isn’t,” Targon agreed. “I’ll follow the vents to another place and see about catching up.”

 

“I guess there isn’t a choice,” Navor growled.

 

Targon sighed and turned around. He glanced at the door and thought about following it. But then he got a cold shiver through the Force from it and he decided against it.

 

He got back into the ventilation system and started crawling. He followed it a long ways, but everywhere just looked the same.

 

It was quiet for a while…until her voice came into his head.

 

“Targon, you’ve come back to me.”

 

He froze and looked around, both ahead and behind. There was no one…but he could feel the overwhelming shadow around him.

 

“Tired of taking planets and turned to warships?” he asked aloud.

 

“Anywhere is fine if it will lead to you,” the Sorceress’ voice replied.

 

“Still intent on finding me?”

 

She laughed. “Of course…I couldn’t let someone like you just slip away.”

 

Targon continued crawling. “Why are you doing this? Why are you destroying so many lives? What is the purpose?”

 

“Destroying? Is that what you think I am doing?”

 

“You’ve got a better term?”

 

“It would be much easier if I showed you, rather than told you.”

 

Targon shuddered. “I’m afraid that isn’t likely to happen anytime soon.”

 

“Perhaps,” the Sorceress replied. “But pride doesn’t help anyone, Targon Karashi. Just ask him…”

 

Targon raised an eyebrow, unsure of what she meant, when he found an opening that looked down into a hallway. Two men were down there – Thaxis Kane and Darth Centuro.

 

He stopped and carefully kept himself from their sight.

 

“They should have gotten back with the others by now,” the Pureblood growled.

 

“I guess men aren’t as efficient when they’re mind controlled,” the pirate sneered.

 

“I’ve had enough of you,” Centuro growled.

 

“What are you going to do?” Kane asked. “If you kill me, you can’t access my ship.”

 

Centuro raised his hand. “I’ll rip the knowledge and codes and whatever I need from your feeble mind, pirate.”

 

“Try it,” Kane put a hand to a blaster. “I dare you.”

 

“Stupid pirate,” Centuro snarled. The Dark Side swelled around him as he prepared to unleash it on Thaxis.

 

But then the wall burst open, and three blue tentacles seized him. They wrapped around his arms and legs and throat and squeezed.

 

Centuro roared in alarm and rage. He tried to reach for his lightsaber, but the constricting tendrils held him tight.

 

Targon withheld a gasp at the scene. The pirate simply watched, seemingly dumfounded.

“Don’t just…stand there…” Centuro hissed. “Help me…!”

 

Kane laughed. “I think not, Sith.” With that, he ran off down the hall, leaving the Pureblood to be pulled screaming and wailing through the hole in the wall and disappear into the hull of the ship.

 

Targon waited in silence for several moments. He felt the Sith Lord’s presence fade away in the swirling shadows. And then her voice returned.

 

“See, Targon? For all his strength and arrogance, the foolish Sith let himself fall into my grasp. He’s mine now, and so are his followers.”

 

Targon dropped down from the vent and looked around the hall. There was nobody about, and he couldn’t feel anything approaching.

 

“You won’t have me,” Targon said simply as he started walking.

 

Then he heard a pair of feet land on the ground behind him.

 

“Still unable to keep voices out of your head, Jedi?” he heard Arachne chuckle.

 

Targon turned and saw her standing there, lightsaber in hand.

 

“How…?” Targon gasped.

 

“You didn’t think it was an accident that the door closed, did you?” the Zabrak smirked. “I’ve been tracking you for a while. It wasn’t hard, with you talking to yourself the whole time.”

 

“Our petty conflict means nothing right now,” Targon stated desperately. “We should…”

 

“Work together?” Arachne spat. “You suggested that on Korriban, and when Krytak’s spirit was destroyed you left me to a crumbling tomb. No, Jedi, this time I kill you.”

 

Targon activated his lightsaber and breathed deeply.

 

“That’s a nice new outfit, by the way,” Arachne winked as she charged, with her saber twirling and ready to strike.

 

Targon met her saber with his own, and the two of them clashed against each other for a long while.

 

Arachne had the offensive, and she was continually driving him backward. The dark hall was lit with red and green dancing along the walls.

 

Their blades locked together and they stared at each other straight in the eyes. Targon could see the orange fire within her gaze, and the wicked grin on her lips. Her teeth were…sharp.

 

“This is foolish,” Targon winced as he struggled against her. “What took out this ship is beyond either of us.”

 

“Stupid boy,” Arachne hissed as she kicked his legs out from under him. “In a duel there is nothing but you and your opponent.”

 

She prepared to come down on his vulnerable form on the ground, but he lifted up his legs and kicked her back. Then he got to his feet.

 

“Don’t let the Dark Side blind you,” Targon urged. “It keeps you from seeing the true danger.”

 

“I am the true danger,” Arachne snarled as she leapt at him again. Their blades crashed again and again. She was getting faster, her muscles seemingly even more enhanced.

 

Targon could tell there was definitely something more than the Dark Side strengthening her. Something was changing her, and had been from Korriban.

 

“What happened to you?” Targon asked as their blades crashed.

 

“When I cut you down and drink your blood, then you’ll see,” the Sith hissed and attacked again.

 

“You’re letting your fury get ahead of your focus,” Targon stated.

 

“Spouting more Jedi garbage?”

 

Targon shook his head. “No.”

 

He then raised his hand Force pushed her all the way down the hall. She shrieked as she flew and then crashed into a wall.

 

Targon sighed and then deactivated his saber. He then hurried down the hall again, trying to reach out with his senses in the fog around him.

 

He had to work harder to keep the enemy from constantly avoiding his detection. Somehow, these Sith were able to pass unnoticed by him until they were right on him. And with this darkness clouding his vision on the ship, it could be a fatal vulnerability.

 

The sooner they left the ship, the better.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Five

 

Jet Harro made his way down the myriad of catwalks to the ship’s core. The core itself was still functioning…but it didn’t look like anything else was.

 

The emergency lights were flickering, and other systems weren’t running at all. Unable to trust the light, he had to feel his way with his hand and stump.

 

Finally, he got there, and he started placing the charges. Getting the explosives connected to the right spots was surprisingly difficult, he found. The core’s configuration was confusing, and it took him nearly five minutes to figure out which was the energy outlet and which was the computer terminal plug.

 

He figured it out eventually, and well that he did. Strange sounds were coming all around. Not the swarming of beasts, at least, he assumed. But something was coming towards him.

 

Maybe it was a power surge or another of the survivors?

 

He growled as he continued working. His anger towards Centuro was foremost on his mind, but there were a great many other things that irked him about this thankless job.

 

Among them, he was sick of the way things had developed altogether. A lifeless ship found infested with pirates and monsters. An utter rout of everyone, even the Imperials, who so often prided themselves on their discipline.

 

Truthfully, he hadn’t expected much from the Empire, but this lot was a sad bunch. The only one who was capable of getting the job done properly was himself…and he was a cripple.

 

A sound made him jump and he reached for his blaster. He tried to hold up the explosives with his stumped arm. He turned on a HUD light, but he couldn’t see anything.

 

He shrugged and got back to work. But then he found himself struggling to holster his gun again with one hand, and keep the other things held.

 

His fingers slipped and the blaster fell to the ground, bounced, and then disappeared into the great abyss of the core chamber.

 

Jet cursed and pounded his fist against the metal. He stepped away from the explosives and let them drop to the floor. They clattered on the steel walkway.

 

“I’m getting too old for this tripe,” he growled. He stared angrily at his missing hand. “That blasted assignment on Belsavis…if others were as capable as me, I wouldn’t have lost my hand in order to get the job done.”

 

“What would you do if you had your hand back?” a strange voice asked from the darkness.

Jet jumped and reached for his blaster, realizing that it was long gone.

 

“Who’s there?” he shouted. “I may be a cripple, but I’m not helpless!”

 

“I didn’t think you were,” the voice replied. It was a woman’s voice, he noted. Was it that girl, Arachne? That woman had ditched him, and now she was playing games?

 

“Where are you?” Jet demanded.

 

“I’m right here.”

 

Jet turned around suddenly, shining his light on someone standing on the catwalk with him.

 

It was a woman, of course. She was tall and fit, and had lots of voluptuous curves. Had Jet still been a younger man, he would have made a move. But instead he stood there, keeping in a defensive mode that he always kept with strangers, and studied her carefully.

“Who are you?” Jet asked.

 

Her deep blue eyes seemed to pierce into him. “I am called Selendis. Who are you?” Her voice was calm and soft and friendly.

 

“The name’s Jet Harro,” he replied. “What are you doing here?”

 

“What are you doing here?” the woman countered.

 

Jet growled. “I’m doing a job that’s not worth all the money in the galaxy.”

 

“Then why are you doing it?”

 

“A man’s got to make a living…especially when he’s only got one hand.”

 

The woman’s gaze turned to his stump, and her mouth tweaked with a studying look. “An old battle wound?” she asked.

 

“Something like that,” Jet nodded. He then asked, “Just what are you doing here, lady?”

 

She walked towards him, and reached out to touch his arm and inspect it closer. “I’m here to help you, Jet Harro.”

 

“Help me?” he tried to pull his arm away, but found he wasn’t able to.

 

“Of course,” the woman nodded. “I’ve been all alone for so long, I help anyone whenever I have the chance.”

 

“And how could you help me?” Jet asked as he rolled his eyes.

 

The woman cupped her hands around his stump and squeezed. She then shook her head carelessly, letting her golden curls fall over her shoulders.

 

Jet felt a sudden pain in his arm and he cringed, but he wasn’t able to move. Then, an instant later, it was gone and he gasped in relief.

 

The woman stepped back, revealing his arm. It was no longer a stump, Jet saw with amazement. There was a hand there. He stood there aghast, unsure of what he was looking at. Then he flexed the fingers and wiggled them. They moved with his design.

 

Jet looked up at the smiling woman, and then down at his new hand again. His eyes were wide and his jaw gaped.

 

“How…?” he gasped. “How did you…?”

 

“I told you I could help you,” Selendis said simply. She came forward and removed the helmet from his head.

 

Jet was too absorbed by the sight of his hand to feel any shame at his graying hair and his worn face.

 

The woman simply smiled and kissed his cheek softly. Then she stepped back and waited…

 

---

 

Greyhawk took the lead with the group, keeping his gun ready for any signs of trouble. So far, they hadn’t run into anyone or anything. No pirates, no Imperials, and no creatures.

 

But there was trouble brewing within, he could tell. His old bones ached every time he glanced back and saw Master Navor’s condition getting worse. His hair was falling out in clumps, and the blue stripes were getting larger and spreading. His eyes, too, were getting more feral the longer they kept going.

 

In response to this, Kyja was keeping close to Greyhawk while maintaining distance between the Jedi. Her face was scared – scared of Navor.

 

For all that she had done, for all that Greyhawk didn’t trust or like about her…he couldn’t help but feel sorry for her. She was alone, after all. She wasn’t with her fellow agents, or even among fellow Imperials.

 

She had no illusions about who she was with – an old Republic soldier and an angry Jedi.

 

Greyhawk figured she wasn’t afraid of being attacked by creatures so much as giving Navor the wrong look that might send him over the edge.

 

They entered a chamber – one that they recognized. It was one that they had passed through with the pirates early in the search through the ship. It meant they were close to the hangar.

 

The old soldier picked up the pace, making it through the doors on the opposite side. He then saw a large group of bodies that definitely were not there the last time they had come through here.

 

Motioning for the others to hold up, he knelt down and studied the corpses. They were recent, he could tell. Most were pirates, a couple was Imperial, and he saw two of those creatures.

 

A few of the bodies had been shredded and slashed – a sure sign of creature attack. The flesh around the wounds seemed to fester and rot very quickly.

 

But then he noticed that others had been shot by blasters and cut by lightsabers. He frowned and looked around, unsure of whether friends or foes had done these men in.

 

Anna-sa Kyja was at his side. “What do you think happened?”

 

“You’re the agent, you tell me,” Greyhawk shrugged. “Looks like someone already made it to the hangar. The question is…are they still there?”

 

“If they are,” Kyja nodded, “what’s the plan?”

 

“I figure we’ll think of that when we get there,” Greyhawk replied as he stood. “The pirates would have left on their ship…but Rick and the others would have stayed. Either way, we’ll have to see before we come up with anything.”

 

“You will not be coming with us,” Navor growled.

 

Greyhawk turned to face him. “Are you going to gnaw at that until it festers? Come on, Navor, this isn’t about friends or enemies. This is about survival.”

 

“So was the situation on Viserys,” Navor snarled. “Yet then we thought she was a friend. I won’t wait around to be betrayed again.”

 

“She won’t,” the old soldier said harshly. “We’ll put her in the cargo hold and take her to Coruscant. She can stand trial for her crimes then.”

 

Navor glared at him. “Are you senile? She’ll kill us in our sleep and take the ship for herself.”

 

Kyja made no attempt to react to his accusations, but Greyhawk stood in for her.

 

“You’re letting your anger get the better of you,” the old soldier stated.

 

“What would you know about that?” Navor hissed.

 

“I might not be a Jedi, but as a soldier, I know full well that getting clouded with emotions leads to stupid and irrational decisions. Don’t let yourself be controlled, Navor.”

 

“I don’t need lectures from you!” Navor snapped. He then waved his paw and smacked the old soldier on the face. Then he turned to the agent.

 

“What are you doing?” Kyja trembled. “I told you…I’m sorry. It was just orders…”

 

She was cut off as she was lifted into the air, Navor’s fingers clenched around her throat. Her feet dangled off the ground and she gasped for breath. The Jedi tightened his grip, snarling at her and baring his teeth.

 

Then he was knocked aside and the white-clad agent dropped to the floor.

 

Greyhawk stood over Navor, fuming. “Now listen here,” he pointed his finger at the Jedi. “I’ve had a bellyful of your attitude, Navor. I know you’re not yourself, but you’ve got to stop this right now.”

 

Navor responded by kicking him in the gut. Then he stood and hurled him into the wall with the Force.

 

Greyhawk tried to fight against the hold…but there wasn’t anything he could do against the Jedi’s power.

 

Navor pushed harder, and slammed Greyhawk’s head into the wall.

 

Then everything went dark, and he could only hear the fading sound of Kyja running off…and Navor pursuing.

 

He awoke to find Targon kneeling over him.

 

“Marc?” the young Jedi held his head gently. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”

 

Greyhawk groaned in pain. The back of his head was throbbing and his ears were ringing. Finally, things became clearer.

 

“Targon,” he sighed. “You made it, good.”

 

The Jedi nodded, but his face was concerned. “Where is Navor?” he asked. “And Anna-sa?”

Greyhawk sat up slowly, rubbing the back of his head. He pulled his hand away and saw a bit of blood.

 

“You took a major blow,” Targon stated. “But you look alright, I guess. We should get you to the ship…where are the others?”

 

The old soldier sighed and shook his head lightly. “They’re gone.”

 

“They’re dead?”

 

“No…” Greyhawk groaned. “Navor…lost it…went after Kyja…”

 

Targon noticed his difficulty speaking. “You might have a concussion,” he said. “Let’s get you to the ship right now.”

 

He helped the soldier up and supported him the rest of the way into the hangar.

 

Against all hope, the Lone Eagle was there, sitting next to the pirate’s vessel. Standing on the ramp was Rick, who shouted in relief and ecstatic joy at seeing them. He wasted no time in rushing to them and helping them both into the ship.

 

Targon laid Greyhawk on the bed in the medical bay. The engines were firing up.

 

“What…?” the old soldier moaned.

 

“Rick’s decided to leave,” Targon sighed sadly. “He says we can’t stick around any longer…the creatures are swarming through the ship. Apparently, that mess I found you next to was their work – against a band of beasts that were advancing.”

 

“What?” Greyhawk was confused, unsure if he could understand what was being said.

 

Targon wrapped his head carefully with a cloth. “The creatures were going to overrun the hangar, Sorgal said. Rick has decided to go.” He paused. “Greyhawk…what happened?”

 

The old soldier closed his eyes and felt himself drift away.

 

“Navor…lost himself…” he said weakly.

 

“The plague’s poison?”

 

“Not the infection…” Greyhawk replied. “But the…darkness…in his heart…”

 

Then he lost consciousness.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Six

 

Thaxis Kane finally reached the hangar. His ship, Horned Demon, was there – but Rick’s ship wasn’t. He didn’t really care that much anyway.

 

He boarded his ship and called out for his men that he had left on the ship.

 

There was no reply.

 

Frowning, he made his way to the cockpit of the vessel. The chairs were empty…and there was no sign of anyone.

 

He growled and shook his head. “Good for nothing rats,” he muttered.

 

Sitting in the pilot’s chair, he pulled out another cigar and took a light. The feel of the tobacco in his lungs was calming after what had just happened.

 

Then he pressed a few buttons and turned the ship on.

 

“Pass code,” the computer demanded.

 

Kane exhaled the smoke and replied, “Borgia Nine Six Two.”

 

There was a beep, and then the engines activated and started to take off.

 

Kane leaned back in his chair and placed his hands behind his head. This had turned into a very bad venture, he sighed. Yet he still was coming out on top.

 

His crew was dead – as far as he knew – including Chopper and Krayt. They were the best men he had recruited…but he could find more.

 

But he won in this situation. The Imperials were dead, and so were anyone of his crew that might have posed a threat to him. He still had his ship – those he left behind couldn’t access the ship’s systems without his pass code.

 

And above all, he was alive.

 

That was more than could be said for that red-skinned brute, Centuro. That man was a worse scoundrel than any Kane had met before. And such arrogance…

 

But that availed him nothing in the end. The monsters got him. They got his pals. And Kane was still breathing.

 

True, Rick and his friends had gotten away…but he’d find them soon enough. And then he’d be able to make a profit off them.

 

They still owed him, after all.

 

He took a long and pleasurable huff of the cigar and smiled. His eyes started to close as his ship left the infested Imperial warship behind.

 

And then he felt a pair of claws dig into his arms and twist them hard until they nearly snapped.

 

He cried out, spitting out his cigar and trying to jerk free. But he couldn’t.

 

“Feeling pretty happy about yourself?” a woman’s voice asked.

 

Kane turned his head and saw the Zabrak Sith standing there, her eyes burning like embers in the dim lighting.

 

“What do you want?” he spat.

 

“Your ship, of course,” the Sith replied.

 

“If you kill me, you won’t be able to access anything,” Kane stated.

 

“Perhaps,” Arachne nodded. “Unless you cooperate and do as I say.”

 

Kane snorted. “Your master already tried to use his mind tricks on me, schutta.”

 

“Oh, he’s not my master,” Arachne smirked. “He’s just a stupid fool, and a dead one at that.”

 

Kane tried to move his arms, but still found them immobilized. He couldn’t tell what had happened. They weren’t tied…and they weren’t broken yet. But somehow they were twisted and unable to budge.

 

“Look, lady,” Kane sighed. “We can work out a deal, can’t we?”

 

“We could,” Arachne leaned close to him. “But I don’t like to make deals with people. People always double-cross each other in deals, and few really benefit.”

 

“In that case,” Kane spat, “you’re in a bind. You can’t kill me, because you won’t be able to work the ship. And if you won’t work with me…what do you plan to accomplish?”

 

Arachne scrunched up her face elaborately, and then she sighed. “Alright, pirate, you win. Maybe we could…work out a deal.”

 

“Smart girl,” Kane nodded. “Now, let my arms go.”

 

“Why don’t you tell me the pass code first?” Arachne shook her head.

 

Kane scowled. “Why should I?”

 

“You want your arms back, and I want to know the code. It’s a fair trade for our current…partnership…wouldn’t you agree?”

 

Thaxis Kane frowned and then took a deep breath. “Fine, fine,” he sighed. “It’s not like it will do you much good. It’s voice-imprinted as well as code locked. Only I can speak the code and the ship will respond.”

 

Arachne nodded. “See? Not so bad.”

 

Kane shook his head. “Borgia Nine Six Two.”

 

The Sith smiled, and then Kane heard a click behind her back. He knew what it was at once…

 

A voice recorder.

 

Arachne slid into his lap and grinned at him. “You pirates aren’t very bright, are you?” she said.

 

“Screw you,” Kane spat. “Computer! Code change protocol Seven Three…”

 

Before he could finish, Arachne hissed and sunk her teeth, no, fangs, into his neck. He could only cry out in pain as he felt his blood gushing out into her mouth.

 

In a few moments, she had drunk him dry.

 

---

 

Kyja had been running for a long time. Her body was screaming in exhaustion, yet she kept pushing.

 

She could hear him behind her, gaining on her, his snarls resounding through the halls. If she didn’t keep the distance…he was going to overtake her.

 

For a moment, she wondered if it might be better if he did. It would satisfy his rage…and it would make the guilt stop.

 

She had been in the Republic for a long time, meeting people, making friends, reciting the oaths of loyalty and freedom that all soldiers of the Republic spoke. It had gotten to her.

 

Deeper than she would have liked. Deeper than it should have.

 

All her training with the Ministry of Intelligence couldn’t prepare her for that look Karus Salar gave her at the end. It couldn’t shield her from the pain of knowing that she was betraying everyone she had come to know.

 

And just after a single command from a Sith…

 

She couldn’t dwell on that. She had to keep running. But no matter where she went, Navor was close behind her. And he didn’t seem to be tiring like she was. His rage fueled him – a fearsome, animal rage that had caused him to turn even on his companion.

 

If he was willing to hurt the old soldier, who had been his friend, she most certainly couldn’t expect any better.

 

She saw a hole in one of the walls. It wasn’t a normal hole at all. It turned into a tunnel through the hull of the ship itself.

 

It was one of the tunnels that the mutant creatures had made – what allowed them to sneak up on them and attack at the worst moments.

 

But if it worked for them…it could help her escape.

 

Taking a breath, she climbed in and crawled through the dark tunnel. It smelled odd…not a rancid odor at all, but something she had never smelled before.

 

She didn’t dare turn a light on to guide her way. That would allow Navor to know right where she was, and he was probably following her through the tunnel.

 

Eventually, she found herself at a dead end. Panic filled her, and she desperately thought about what to do next. But then she looked up and saw that the tunnel continued above her.

 

She climbed up, utilizing all her physical training to get up and keep from slipping back down.

 

Once at the top, where it leveled out again, she paused. Through the tunnel she could hear him coming. His breathing was a growl of rage, and his claws were digging into the metal.

 

Kyja crawled on in desperation. She just had to keep going. It was either that or consign herself to his wrath. And her training wouldn’t let her just roll over and give up. She had to survive, or at least try to keep going as long as she could.

 

That was the way of Imperial Intelligence.

 

But did she want to be part of that anymore? She wasn’t sure. The pain and guilt of the betrayal on Viserys had cut deep into her, deeper than any of the other Ghosts. Unlike many of the others…she had actually become fond of the people she had gotten to know.

 

Many of the Jedi and Republic soldiers were honorable and good people. Just as good as many Imperials she had known. They were all just…following orders and obeying their commanders.

 

That was what she had done, wasn’t it? Telling herself that brought no comfort at all.

 

She finally reached an end to the tunnel. She crawled out, and saw a ceiling panel that had fallen to the ground. Picking it up, she placed it in front of the hole. Then she brought out her container of sealant and put it around the edges.

 

It wouldn’t hold long, she knew that well enough. But it could buy her at least a little time. Time enough to prepare to make a stand.

 

She might not be the best Imperial Agent…but she would die knowing she did her best.

 

There was a door nearby – it led into the captain’s quarters. That was a large room, with plenty of space all around…but there was only one way in.

 

She clutched her rifle and entered the room.

 

And then she found the captain’s quarters weren’t empty.

 

The walls of the room weren’t made of metal anymore. They were organic, with black veins running along the pulsing surface.

 

Dozens of snarling creatures were staring at her with blank, empty eyes. Some looked eager to attack her…but something held them at bay.

 

And then she saw. A slender woman lay reclined at the far end of the chamber. Her skin was pale cobalt, but her eyes were of the iciest, strongest blue. She had no legs to speak of, instead, she had a great gown of tentacles writhing beneath her. Her hair was long tendrils that almost slithered around her head and neck like serpents.

 

Her cold lips smiled.

 

“Hello, child,” the alien said softly, even kindly. “Who might you be?”

 

Kyja felt afraid, her knees were buckling. But she saw that the beasts around weren’t going to attack.

 

“No one,” she answered weakly.

 

“How so, child?” the alien asked.

 

“I…I was a soldier of the Empire…I was a soldier of the Republic…and yet…I am nothing.” She was finding it hard to find words, both from fear and from sorrow.

 

“Nothing?” the alien rose and glided towards her. “Dear child, no one is nothing in my eyes.”

 

Kyja looked up into her blue eyes. “You…you are the one that…consumed the people on this ship?”

 

“I consume nothing,” the alien smiled. “I bring new life.”

 

She gestured to her creatures. Most were scaly, hideous beasts. But Kyja noticed some that were different. One wore a tattered black cloth…and he looked formerly like a Sith Pureblood.

 

Darth Centuro.

 

And then she noticed another…one that still wore a few remnants of battle armor.

 

Jet Harro.

 

Both of them stood upright, instead of hunched like the others. Their eyes were alive, instead of blank, full of thought and sentience. They looked at her as though they recognized her. Perhaps they did.

 

“Who are you?” Kyja asked.

 

“I am Selendis,” the alien replied.

 

“What are you?”

 

“It would be impossible to tell you,” the woman shook her head.

 

Kyja felt cold and alone…and the fear of Navor’s approach crept back into her mind.

 

“Can you show me then?” she asked.

 

Selendis smiled as she wrapped her tentacles slowly and gently around her. She raised Kyja up and embraced her, holding her firmly against her breast.

 

At first, a frightening cold filled her, but then she felt something else fill her. She felt Selendis’ power fill inside her.

 

And then Anna-sa Kyja’s pain and guilt disappeared as she succumbed to her embrace.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Seven

 

Targon remained seated, keeping an eye on Greyhawk as he drifted in and out of consciousness continually. The blow to the old soldier’s head must have been worse than he had though originally.

 

He shivered with confusion and worry – about Greyhawk and about Navor.

 

Rick wasn’t about to turn the ship around to start looking for their missing companion. He wouldn’t have any desire to do so anyway, Targon knew. The captain might have stuck around for Gabrielle or the old bird…but he wasn’t very close with Navor.

 

There was something about Jedi that Rick didn’t seem to like. That went for Sorgal and Sith as well, without saying.

 

But Targon knew Navor as a friend…or at least a brother Jedi Knight. The thought of abandoning him made his stomach clench. What would happen to him? Had they left him to die?

 

Someone walked into the medical bay.

 

Targon looked up and saw Sorgal frowning at him.

 

“Rick wants you up in the cockpit,” Sorgal stated. “It’s where the first mate should be, after all.”

 

“I have a duty to take care of my companions,” Targon rebutted.

 

“Yeah, I thought you’d say as much,” the Sith grumbled. “But we both know what’s really on your mind.”

 

“How would you know?” Targon asked.

 

Sorgal rolled his eyes. “Because I am not blind,” he replied. “Not blind like your friend, anyway. Of course, he probably isn’t your friend anymore.”

 

“Navor is my friend!” Targon stood angrily. “He’s just…lost his way…”

 

“You Jedi always talk like the Dark Side is something to be feared,” Sorgal shook his head. “Like it’s something evil. Tell me something, Targon. If I were evil, would I be here helping you? Would I have saved you all from that Mandalorian or stayed along for so long?”

 

Targon frowned. “That’s different…”

 

“Is it? The Dark Side is just the other half of the Force. It has its strengths, its philosophies, its designs – just like the Light. The only problem is when someone flips suddenly from one side to the other.”

 

“Like Navor…” Targon muttered.

 

“Like your kitty friend,” Sorgal nodded. “But I don’t think it was the Dark Side that did him…it was himself, and the things he let boil inside him until they drove him mad.”

 

“What can we do?”

 

“Nothing,” Sorgal shrugged. “But you know…if you really wanted to find out what he was up to, you’d only have to look.”

 

The Sith left the room, and Targon sat back down.

 

He closed his eyes and reached out through the Force. He found the ship…winded his way through the decks…

 

And then he saw…

 

---

 

Navor burst into the captain’s chamber, both of his blades in hand. Creatures on all sides hissed at his intrusion, and he snarled back at them, even more menacingly.

 

At the far end, the Sorceress recoiled, her eyes wide at the sight of him.

 

“What are you doing here?” she asked. “Alone?”

 

“I’m here to kill the woman,” Navor growled. “And you too, monster.”

 

“You still think me a monster?” Selendis frowned.

 

Navor nodded. “A dead one.”

 

He leapt forward, but a creature that had once been Darth Centuro intercepted him. It drew the Sith Lord’s lightsaber and fought with it, swinging the blade wildly and unprofessionally.

 

Navor blocked the attacks easily, and he cut the beast down.

 

Throughout the room, the other creatures howled. Selendis wailed herself, cringing as though she was feeling the same pain.

 

“Why?” she mourned. “Why do you slaughter my children? Why do you torment me so?”

 

“Torment you?!” Navor roared. “Ignorant, wicked beast! You torment me! You turned the people I protected against me! You consumed them and turned them into mindless beasts! You forced me to kill my own apprentice!”

 

Fear was apparent in Selendis’ eyes. Fear of the Jedi’s intense rage. He was a raging beast, with the mind and sentience of a person. Together, he was a fearsome sight – even to her.

 

“You don’t understand!” Selendis stated. “These are my children! They are mine!”

 

“They don’t think so!” Navor hissed.

 

Selendis petted one of the creatures closest to her. Navor knew who it was, even despite the mutation. It was Anna-sa Kyja.

 

“How would you know?” the Sorceress asked. “You don’t comprehend anything about me!”

 

“I don’t have to!” Navor fumed. He twirled his sabers in his hands. “I hate you! And that is enough!”

 

He said no more, but instead he charged at the alien. Several creatures tried to stop him, but he slashed them into pieces with little effort.

 

Selendis lashed out defensively at him with one of her coils. But this time the Jedi knew what to do. He sidestepped and hacked through the tentacle easily.

 

She shrieked in pain as white blood seeped from the wound, and all the creatures around her wailed and howled.

 

Wasting no time, Navor came at her, leaping into the air and preparing to sever her head from her shoulders.

 

All of a sudden, some invisible force grabbed hold of him and slammed him onto the floor.

 

“That is enough, Jedi,” a voice said from the entrance of the chamber. “Have you forgotten your Code?”

 

Navor rose to his feet, whirling about to face the interloper. He snarled at him when he saw who it was…full of anger and confusion.

 

Standing in the doorway was the pirate called Krayt. He stood there, emotionless behind his mask.

 

“Stay out of this!” Navor roared. “This is no concern of yours!”

 

“Oh, I think it is,” the man countered. “You ought to know better than to kill a helpless creature.”

 

“Helpless?!” Navor raged. “How dare you…?” He paused and sniffed. His fierce eyes peered at the stranger. “You aren’t a pirate at all.”

 

“No, I’m not,” the man nodded. “Anymore than you are a peacekeeper now, I suppose.”

 

“I’ll kill you if you don’t step out of this,” Navor hissed.

 

The man reached behind his back and pulled out something from beneath his poncho. In a single movement, the cloth and helmet were gone, and he revealed his true self.

 

He stood there, with a double-bladed green lightsaber, clad in a tight-fit suit of dragon scales.

 

“Minos Karr!” Navor seethed with rage. “How…?” He stopped when he noticed the strange presence about the man, and his red snake eyes.

 

The man shook his head. “Minos Karr is dead. I am Lord Draco.”

 

Navor’s breathing grew quick and furious. “I don’t care who you are. None of this is your concern!”

 

Draco twirled his saber between his hands. “It is my concern. If you want to kill them, you’ll have to fight me first.”

 

Navor bared his teeth. “So be it.”

 

He leapt at him, his twin blue sabers twirling. Draco met his blades with his own, and the two of them crashed against each other in a dance that lit the room in blue and green.

 

Navor’s assault was furious. He came at all sides, striking at a different place with each slash of either saber. But his enemy’s defense was quick and efficient, able to meet one blade on one side, and then the other.

 

The Jedi jumped over his opponent to slash at the head. Draco responded by ducking and then turning to face Navor. Their places had changed – now the interloper stood between Navor and the creatures.

 

Everything was silent in the room except for the swinging and clashing of sabers and Navor’s fuming breath. Draco defended himself voicelessly, as quiet as he had been pretending to be a pirate.

 

Navor attacked faster and faster, until his blades were a pair of speeding blue blurs. The room grew thick with the tang of ozone as the sabers sliced through the air.

 

Draco made as defensive slash, nearly knocking Navor’s blades out of his hands.

 

But the Jedi was quick to respond, and he gave a hard kick straight to his opponent’s chest. The blow was too fast to block, and too strong to hold up against.

 

Draco flew backwards, bounced twice on the hard floor, and then landed on his back.

 

Navor was charging like a freight train, roaring and readying his sabers for a killing blow. In less than a second, he was on him and coming down hard.

 

That was when Draco made his move, striking swift as a viper. He lunged and thrust his saber through Navor’s chest.

 

Navor gasped and the room grew silent. His sabers dropped from his hands and clattered on the ground.

 

Draco withdrew his blade and deactivated the saber. He then caught Navor before he crashed backwards on his back. Softly, he let the defeated Jedi down easily.

 

The fire was burning out in Navor’s eyes, and replacing it was a sea of sorrow. His mind became clear again, and he realized what he had let happen to him. His breathing was growing weak and a burning tear slid down his cheek, through his thinning fur.

 

And then his last breath faded away.

 

Draco closed his eyes with his fingers and let him down to his rest. Then he rose slowly and faced the silent observers.

 

He bowed before Selendis in reverence.

 

“I beg your pardon for my intrusion,” he said simply. “I am Lord Draco, at your humble service.”

 

Selendis was quiet for a moment, studying this stranger. “Why did you intervene?” she asked finally.

 

Draco looked at her squarely, his red reptilian eyes met her deep blue ones. “Because it had to be done,” he replied. “He was a noble Jedi in life, Sorceress, but he had fallen into madness and would have brought harm to all.”

 

“He would have killed me,” Selendis nodded. “And all of my children…”

 

“I know who you are,” Draco said simply. “I have seen you in my visions. You are the lonely soul that consumed yourself in misery.”

 

The horde of creatures took a quick step back; their wild eyes seemed in fear of him.

 

“What do you know of me?” Selendis asked shocked.

 

“I have seen into your mind, as you see into others,” Draco answered. “For ages you have been alone, lost in emptiness. You have consumed worlds and peoples in your pursuit for companionship and harmony. And in doing so, you have become still more miserable and more desperate…until at last you have become a force of destruction.”

 

Selendis backed away from him now, her creatures clinging close to her. “Why are you here?”

 

Draco sighed. “In my visions, there were three that would wield the power to change or destroy the galaxy. I stopped the black ghost of Death before he destroyed all life in the universe. And I came to bring you out of the misery that would consume yourself and the galaxy inevitably.”

 

He paused and took a breath. His feet were moving as though he were ready to turn and leave.

 

“Yet now that I have seen you,” he then continued, “I must question my capabilities. I protected you from your enemy, true, but can I protect you from yourself? Would you let me if I tried? Or would you consume me like the others?”

 

There was silence then – as if the whole chamber had become the void of space.

 

After a long moment of the stillness, Draco sighed sadly. “I shall mourn this noble Jedi’s fall, and I shall leave you in peace, Sorceress,” he said finally. “Regretfully, I was not aware of your magnificence, or I would have been more prepared to present myself to you.”

 

He knelt down and placed his hand on Navor’s chest.

 

“Be at peace with the Force, Jedi,” he said softly. Then he rose and started to depart.

 

Then something grabbed his shoulder. He turned and saw Selendis had approached, reaching out with her wounded coil.

 

“Wait,” she commanded gently. Her eyes studied him carefully. “If I let you…how could you help me?”

 

Draco turned his eyes to her bleeding appendage. “First off, we should see about treating this…”

 

“I…” Selendis hesitated. “I don’t know how to thank you for your help…I don’t…”

 

Draco shook his head, smiling. “It won’t be necessary, Sorceress. There are more important things ahead. Much for us to do…and we’ll need to see about that mutual friend of you and Navor.”

 

Conclusion of Episode Twelve

[TargonKarashi]

Episode Thirteen – Dark Champion

 

Chapter One

 

Deep in the Citadel on Dromund Kaas, the seat of Imperial power, lay a network of dark and cruel dungeons. Those who were sent down into this black labyrinth were never seen again.

 

But far below the dungeons was a great chamber, lit by foul smelling fires that consumed the dank air. This chamber was an aged and forgotten place, unknown to more than the ninety-ninth percentile of officials and Sith in the Empire.

 

Viruul knew this place well. He liked to come here when he wished to absolutely never be disturbed. Here, he could carve out the plots of his mind, and vent the greater rage that he would never reveal to anyone.

 

Especially the members of the Dark Council, who were so often the subject of his ire.

 

But today, here was the place he summoned Tiburon to bring the new potential student – the one that Viruul would decide if it was worthy to be his apprentice.

 

They had been sitting in this abyss for nearly an hour before Viruul arrived. He never cared what anyone thought about his fickle punctuality. After all, punctuality made one predictable, and thus vulnerable. It also wasn’t up to them to judge a Dark Lord of the Council anyway.

 

As he entered the chamber, the flames grew brighter. Carvings were illuminated on the walls and floor. Intricate carvings and symbols, not Ancient Sith at all, but rather something else.

 

Tiburon turned to face him, his wheezing echoing through the chamber that was really little more than a cave. Next to the crippled Twi’lek was a human woman. She wore a simple black robe and nothing more.

 

What distinguished her was her fiery auburn hair that fell well past her shoulders and a curiously cruel and wicked smile on her lips.

 

Viruul approached, and then he stopped. His black form consumed all light around him, and reflected it all through his white mask.

 

“Lord Tiburon,” he stated as he folded his arms.

 

The Twi’lek bowed, and the young woman took a knee.

 

“My lord,” Tiburon greeted. “As always, I am truly honored to be in your presence.”

 

Viruul ignored the flattery, turning his eyes upon the woman. “Who is this that you have brought before me, Tiburon?”

 

“This is…”

 

The woman cut him off. “I am Tasia Rennd,” she stated, her fierce eyes looking directly at Viruul’s face.

 

“Silence,” Tiburon hissed. “You will speak when spoken to, student!”

 

Viruul held up a hand. “Tiburon, I told you to bring me the most dangerous and fearless…and it speaks volumes for her willingness to answer directly to a Dark Lord.”

 

“Yes, my lord,” Tiburon bowed his head.

 

“Tasia Rennd,” Viruul continued. “What accomplishments have you made? What deeds can be attributed to your power?”

 

“I’m alive,” the woman shrugged. “Those who stood in my way can’t say the same.”

 

Viruul nodded, “A good answer. What were your thoughts toward your competitors?”

 

“I was too busy killing them to think about them,” she replied sharply.

 

“Forgive her brashness,” Tiburon stated. “Though her manners are lacking, she is quite assuredly the second best student to ever come through the academy in my time.”

 

“Indeed?” Viruul stroked his chin. He then turned to the woman. “Tell me, Tasia, who is the best student that Tiburon believes to surpass you?”

 

Her eyes flashed with hate. “Lord Scorpius,” she spat the name as though it were a poisonous curse.

 

“Ah yes,” Viruul nodded. “That man who won the Battle of Viserys…the one that became Mortis’ apprentice.” His last statement had tinge of harshness directed at Tiburon.

 

“My lord,” Tiburon bowed subserviently. “You were never interested in an apprentice then…and Mortis was senior on the Council…”

 

Viruul held up a hand to silence him. “I’m not interested in excuses,” he stated. “I’m interested in her. Tell me, Tiburon, what potential do you see in her that makes her the best candidate? I find myself hesitant since the loss of your comrade, Lord Centuro.”

 

“She is both swift and ferocious with a lightsaber,” Tiburon replied. “She has nearly mastered the art of lightning and draining the life energy of others.”

 

“Good,” Viruul nodded. “What else?”

 

“She is stealthy,” Tiburon continued. “I have seen her near vanish into the air within a heartbeat. It has led to…curious situations…”

 

“Such as?”

 

Tiburon hesitated. “My lord…Tasia is infamous for her seduction of male students on a regular basis. Many times she has been found in bed with another student…even when guards patrolled the halls vigilantly during curfew hours.”

 

Viruul could see the disgust in Tiburon’s account of that, but in Tasia’s eyes there was only pride and humor.

 

“Interesting…” Viruul said softly. “Tasia, what is the purpose for such relationships?”

 

“Men are easy prey, my lord,” she replied. “I can learn their secrets and deal with them easily when they don’t have their pants.”

 

“She is…quite ruthless,” Tiburon sighed, embarrassed.

 

Viruul laughed at that. “Unconventional, effective, and deadly,” he nodded. “She will do quite well.”

 

“That is excellent, my lord,” Tiburon bowed.

 

Viruul ignored him. He took a step closer to the student. “Tell me, Tasia, do you wish you were more powerful than Lord Scorpius?”

 

“If I get him in bed, I’m sure I can best him,” she replied with a shrug.

 

Viruul laughed again. “Perhaps you could…but bedroom antics have their place…and it is not on the battlefield. I can make you more powerful than Scorpius in every way, Tasia. I can amplify your talents, focus your strength and ability, and make you one of the greatest Sith, if not the most unique, that has ever lived.”

 

Tasia cocked her head. “If you could do that…I would be your apprentice.”

 

“Excellent,” Viruul smiled. “Tiburon, you have brought be the perfect new apprentice.”

 

“It is my honor,” Tiburon bowed yet again. “Shall you start her training now? I will release her to you for as long as it takes for her to be ready…”

 

“Oh, I have no intention of letting it take long at all,” Viruul waved his hand. “I won’t subject her, and myself, to years of training and lectures and disciplining…I have better ways.”

 

“Good, I hate waiting,” Tasia smiled.

 

Tiburon’s eyes were full of confusion. “My lord, I don’t understand…it takes time to teach and prepare a student. I should know since I am an instructor…”

 

“Know more than me?” Viruul turned to glare at him. “Who is on the Dark Council here, Tiburon?”

 

“You are, my lord.”

 

“And if I say I could create her into the greatest apprentice today, then it can be done, can it not?”

 

“I…I will say no more, my lord.”

 

“Good,” Viruul growled. He then turned to Tasia. “Listen closely, child. There are many ways to be a Sith. Most traditionally, one undergoes great physical and mental challenges that test one to the brink, allowing them to exploit their inner passions and strengths. These men follow closely to the Sith Code and adhere to it with strict orthodoxy.”

 

“Like Scorpius and his master,” Tasia hissed.

 

“Indeed,” Viruul nodded. “Another path is to study the deep secrets and mysteries of the Force, to draw on the power of ancient spirits and artifacts. But there is another path…one that delves where even members of the Dark Council dare not tread. Though dangerous, and often lethal, it can lead to the greatest power in the shortest time.”

 

“I would know that path,” Tasia said eagerly.

 

“So you shall,” Viruul nodded. “Now.”

 

He raised his hands and at once the fires exploded into a great inferno. The symbols along the walls and floor glowed blood red. Strange and hideous shrieking echoed through the chamber.

 

In the flames, the shapes of demonic creatures appeared and began to dance around them in a circle. Strange voices chanted dark incantations unheard by mortal ears for ages.

 

“My lord!” Tiburon cried out amid the hellish scene. “What sorcery is this?” He sounded frightened.

 

“The power of the Dark Side in its wildest form,” Viruul replied. His hands called the fire to them, and the flames danced around his fingers and circled up his arms.

 

“This is not the way of the Sith!” Tiburon stated. “This is a heretical art!”

 

Viruul laughed. “I decide what heresy is, Tiburon. I have learned this secret from the Emperor himself. He saw no true use for it…but I do.”

 

He thrust his hands out towards Tasia, and she was suddenly engulfed in flames. They circled and danced around her, burning away her robe and licking her bare skin. She cried out in pain and alarm, but then she started to find it enjoyable, and she started to laugh.

 

“My lord, you must stop this!” Tiburon shouted. “You will kill her! You could destroy the whole citadel with such unchecked power!”

 

Viruul ignored him. He unleashed a storm of energy into the inferno, and soon the young woman disappeared in a furious tempest of fire and lightning.

 

The demonic figures danced faster, the strange voices chanted louder, and Viruul roared and laughed with them.

 

And then, in an instant, everything vanished. The flames died down to embers, the symbols darkened, and any signs of the horrific scene’s existence had disappeared.

 

The woman floated in the air, a swirl of mist surrounding her. Finally, she came back to her feet – and she was no longer the person she was. She wasn’t even human anymore.

 

Her skin had become glistening red and orange scales that emanated their own fiery light. Her legs had become double-jointed, like a raptor’s. Black talons replaced nails on her fingers and toes.

 

Her hair had become even brighter – it seemed as though it was ablaze. Atop her head were several spiked horns, and her eyes glistened with seductive fury. She kept her same wicked smile, but now it was even crueler.

 

She had become firmer, muscular, and incredibly defined; especially her hips and breasts. Behind her swishing back and forth, was a long saurian tail.

 

Tiburon was aghast. “What have you done?” he gasped.

 

“I have created my apprentice,” Viruul replied. “This is Darth Succuba.”

 

The creature bowed to him. “What is thy bidding, my master?”

 

“This is…evil,” Tiburon said weakly.

 

Viruul ignored him. “Are you prepared to do my will, apprentice?”

 

“Yes, master,” she replied. “Your wishes – your thoughts – are my only command.”

 

“Prove it,” Viruul ordered simply.

 

She rose and turned to Tiburon. In an instant, his lightsaber flew to her clawed hand and activated.

 

“My lord!” Tiburon wheezed.

 

“Sorry, Lord Tiburon,” Viruul smiled. “No one must ever know the secret of her creation.”

With a single strike, Succuba severed the Twi’lek’s head.

 

Viruul’s smile broadened. This servant was ready to succeed where all others had failed. She was ready to find the young Jedi.

Edited July 17, 2012 by TargonKarashi

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Two

 

Targon sat next to his bunk, his eyes closed, and his mind in deep meditation. He had much to ponder over, particularly the loss of one of his companions.

 

Navor was a good Jedi, he thought. He was proud and fierce…but he was dutiful and noble. Whatever caused him to fall…it was something within himself. He would not have allowed a foreign power to control him.

 

He lost the battle with himself, and Targon needed to learn from this for the future.

 

There was suddenly a beeping on his comlink. He opened his eyes and reached for it. Upon activation, the image of Master Cyrus appeared.

 

“It’s good to see you, Targon,” the Jedi Master smiled.

 

“Greetings, master,” Targon nodded.

 

The Jedi frowned. “You look troubled, Targon.”

 

“I…” Targon hesitated. “There was a situation on a derelict Imperial vessel…Master Navor was lost.”

 

There was a silence. Cyrus sighed, “I am very sorry to hear that, Targon. How are you holding up?”

 

“As well as I can,” Targon replied.

 

“Something tells me that you’d say that even if it were a bald faced lie,” Cyrus shook his head.

 

Targon sighed. “You wanted to speak to me about something?”

 

“I did,” Cyrus nodded. “But I think now would not be the best time…I should probably find another…”

 

“No, Master Cyrus,” Targon said quickly. “I don’t want any special treatment…I must still fulfill my duty as a Jedi. Master Navor would have done the same.”

 

Cyrus smiled sadly. “I’m glad to hear it, Targon. There is a task of great importance that needs to be done. The Empire has issued a death warrant for Senator Lym Mulok. We don’t know why…but two attempts on his life have already been made.”

 

“What can I do?” Targon asked.

 

“A team of Jedi Knights were dispatched and have him secured…but they need secure transport to Coruscant. The Jedi’s ship was destroyed by an attack from bounty hunters on Telos.”

 

“This doesn’t sound good,” Targon frowned.

 

“The bounty hunters were stopped, and the senator is alright for now, but they need to get off there and fast. Your ship is closest – the nearest Republic cruiser is hundreds of light years away.”

 

“We can be there soon, master,” Targon stated.

 

“I hope it won’t be too much of a burden,” Cyrus said. “I know it’s a little soon since your loss…but Senator Mulok is the representative of the planet Yoren, a currently unstable place. If he is killed…the Empire may be able to assert control over the world, crippling our Mid Rim defenses.”

 

Targon nodded. “I understand, master. We’ll be at Telos soon. Where can we find him?”

 

“The Council has already contacted Master Hazo, and he will be waiting for you at the Marlotto Hotel in the Entertainment District.”

 

“Entertainment? That seems rather distracting…”

 

“It is,” Cyrus nodded. “And that’s why it’s a good place to keep out of sight from the Empire. But you need to hurry, Targon.”

 

“Don’t worry, Master Cyrus,” Targon stood. “This shouldn’t be too difficult of a mission.”

 

---

 

Joan Wernan entered Director Enro’s office, stood at attention, and saluted.

 

The fat man chuckled and shook his head softly. “There’s no need for such intense protocol here, Joan. I know you well enough.”

 

“Just following Imperial policy, sir,” the agent stated.

 

“Yes, and that’s what makes you one of the best agents in the Ministry,” Enro smiled. “How was your leave, short as it was?”

 

“Refreshing, sir,” Joan replied. “But rather boring, if I may say so. I am eager to be on assignment again.”

 

“Good,” the director nodded. “I wish I had better missions for you…ones that didn’t entail our little…investigation.”

 

“Viruul, sir?” Joan sighed.

 

“I’m afraid so,” the obese man nodded again. “He’s at work again…but his motives are unknown.”

 

“What is it this time?”

 

Enro turned on the projector and the image of a small, nervous man in purple robes appeared. “This is Senator Lym Mulok of Yoren.”

 

“Yes, I am aware,” Joan nodded.

 

“Of course,” Enro laughed. “He’s on the run, right now. Grand Moff Kilran wants him dead. With his removal, the planet of Yoren will lose interest in the Republic and it will be easy for the Empire to gain yet another step in the war.”

 

“You want me to assassinate him?” Joan asked.

 

“Not hardly,” Enro shook his head. “I’m afraid the situation is more complicated than that. Kilran wants him dead, and has seen to his own assassins – which have all failed, of course. But now I’ve received word of Viruul sending an agent to take care of him.”

 

“That’s odd,” Joan frowned. “Since when does Viruul do anything to help Kilran?”

 

“He doesn’t,” Enro replied, “unless he wants something for himself. I want you to find Senator Mulok and bring him to the Ministry so that we can find out what Viruul might want from him.”

 

“That doesn’t sound difficult,” Joan shrugged. “But won’t Viruul be upset…?”

 

“He might, but the task is still being done,” Enro answered. “Kilran is the one we’ll be helping, and Viruul will not move against Kilran. For now, at least.”

 

“What do you think Viruul’s part in this is?” Joan asked. “Why would he be sending someone to do something for Kilran?”

 

“He’s not,” Enro shook his head. “He’s after something else…and he has been from the start. Whatever it is, we need to find it first, and apparently this senator is the only lead we have.”

 

“Who is the agent?” Joan asked.

 

Enro laughed at that. “Joan, my dear, I don’t even know the names of everyone that works for me. I haven’t the slightest idea who Viruul’s servants are.”

 

Joan nodded. “Is there any other information for me, sir?”

 

“There is,” Enro replied. “Intelligence reports claim that Senator Mulok is on Telos, hiding in the Entertainment District. He is under the armed protection of a team of Jedi Knights, headed by Master Hazo.”

 

“And the others?”

 

The director’s fat head cocked to one side. “Why do you care who the Jedi are?”

 

Joan stiffened. “I…I think that is the key to finding out what Viruul’s motive is.”

 

Enro smiled. “I was hoping you would notice that. Excellent point, Joan. I had considered it…but it seemed too simple.”

 

“Sith really aren’t that complicated,” Joan shrugged.

 

“Be careful not to say that around them,” Enro laughed. “Well…from our reports…” He shuffled through several files. “Ah, here we are. Master Hazo leads the team. He’s a Rodian and a greatly respected Master.”

 

“I doubt he’s important to Viruul,” Joan stated.

 

“Agreed,” Enro nodded. “And the others are…a Cerean named Bu-Rada Na, an Iktochi named Neasee Err, and a human named Alona Jax.”

 

Joan frowned. “Those don’t sound like notable Jedi…”

 

“How would you know?” Enro asked. “Regardless of the Jedi, it is Senator Mulok that is the most important.”

 

“Sir?”

 

“While the senator may not be the one Viruul wants,” Enro stated, “he is the one that Kilran wants. And we need allies against the Sith Lord and his scheme. Bring the senator to the ministry.”

 

“And the Jedi?”

 

“We are at war, Joan,” Enro sighed. “The Jedi are the enemies of the Empire. Kill them.”

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Three

 

The cities of Telos had grown over the centuries, and the scars of the past were disappearing. Yet now it was growing stale again, as war ravaged the regions around, trade was difficult and fleeting.

 

Some people seemed genuinely surprised as the Lone Eagle landed in docking bay 3 in the Entertainment District. Folks gathered around to see if they had brought goods to trade.

 

To Rick’s sorrow, he hadn’t anything on his ship.

 

“I could have made a killing,” he grumbled as they locked up the ship and headed out into the streets.

 

“You would have played off their near desperation for your own profit?” Xana balked at him.

 

“Don’t judge me, lady,” Rick countered. “A man has to make money, doesn’t he?”

 

“Haven’t you been saying that your smuggling days are done?” Greyhawk asked.

 

“Yeah…well…” Rick sighed. “Old habits die hard, I suppose.”

 

“Apparently it takes years,” Gabrielle smirked at him.

 

“Sheesh, don’t any of you ever shut up?” Sorgal growled. “You jape at each other like a bunch of little kids.”

 

“Says the Sith with the bad attitude,” Rick snorted.

 

“A bad attitude and a lightsaber,” the Sith countered.

 

Targon sighed and turned to face them all. “Look…this is kind of an important thing we’re doing…but we don’t need to get all after each other like this. I’ll go meet Master Hazo at the Marlotto Hotel, and you guys can go and enjoy yourselves alone here in the Entertainment District.”

 

Rick smiled. “See? This is why I made you first mate – for great ideas like this.”

 

“Is it such a good idea to be spread out?” Sorgal asked.

 

“We’ll meet back together at the ship in three hours,” Targon stated. “That should be plenty of time, and we can call each other if there are any problems.”

 

The others nodded. Rick grabbed Gabrielle’s arm.

 

“You know, Gabi,” the captain smiled. “I hear there’s a great band playing at the swoop tracks.”

 

“Don’t get me started on swoops!” Sorgal growled.

 

Gabrielle freed her arm. “Thanks, Rick, but I think I’m going to go for a stroll and look in shop windows. The people here look like they might like a little business.”

 

“Shopping?” Rick frowned, and then he shrugged. “Alright, alright…”

 

“You don’t have to go,” the Twi’lek smiled and shook her head.

 

“No, it’s alright,” Rick sighed. “Sometimes you have to sacrifice things…”

 

They walked off. Sorgal growled, “That Rick is the least subtle man I’ve ever met.”

 

“But he’s a good man,” Greyhawk stated. He looked around. “Hmm,” he scratched his chin. “That band that Rick mentioned might be a nice thing to see. Would you like to accompany me, Xana?”

 

The Falleen glanced at Targon, who smiled.

 

“Go have some fun,” he said. “I’ll be fine seeing Master Hazo.”

 

She nodded and followed Greyhawk down the street.

 

Targon then turned to Sorgal. “What about you? I’m sure you aren’t excited to meet a boring Jedi Master in a boring hotel.”

 

Sorgal smirked. “Not in the slightest. I’m going to get a drink and not have to think about Rick or any of the others.”

 

“Are they really so bad to you?”

 

“I don’t care much for simpletons,” Sorgal shrugged. “That Navor was fine, because he could actually be a challenge in talking back to me. These others…they’re boring, really.”

 

Targon shook his head and sighed as Sorgal walked off to the nearest cantina. Finally, he turned and made his way for the hotel.

 

---

 

The Marlotto Hotel was full of people of all sorts. They had come for one of the big tournaments in the swoop racing circuit, and this hotel was one of the hottest spots for spectators.

 

Targon had a difficult time navigating through the crowds, but eventually he found an empty bench to sit at. The tables and the bar were all full, and so were most every sitting spots. Yet this one was far away, and away from the bustle and screens and entertainment.

 

It also was in great need of repair. When Targon sat, he heard a sudden creak and wondered how long it would be before the whole thing just collapsed.

 

But he figured it was better to sit that stand around, so he remained where he was. He kept his weight on his feet to keep from the bench breaking under him.

 

More than half an hour passed, and he just watched the crowds and wait. The Jedi Master was supposed to find him…but he was wondering if it might be better to find a different spot where he could see better…

 

“Cyrus told me you’d be here,” a voice said suddenly.

 

Targon turned his head and saw that a Rodian in Jedi robes was sitting on the bench beside him.

 

“Master Hazo,” Targon nodded his head.

 

“There isn’t much time,” Hazo said quickly. “We need to get out of here right away.”

 

“So quickly?” Targon raised an eyebrow. “I thought the bounty hunters after the senator were dealt with?”

 

“They were,” the Rodian nodded. “But there’s something else…”

 

“What?”

 

“I can’t explain,” Hazo shook his head. “Come, we should get to the senator and leave right away.”

 

“Where is he?”

 

“He’s at a safe location. My team is spread out to watch for the enemy.”

 

“Where?”

 

“Does it matter?”

 

Targon frowned. “Yes, actually, it does. My companions have gone off for the next few hours, I wasn’t aware there was a serious danger right away.”

 

“Well, young man, that was your mistake,” Hazo stated.

 

“I’ll have to call them,” Targon sighed.

 

“Don’t bother,” Hazo shook his head. “I’ll have Na and Err find them. Alona is with Senator Mulok in room number 385. Come on, we’ll find them and get to your ship.”

 

“And the others?”

 

“We’ll find them soon enough,” Hazo said annoyed. “It was foolish of you to spread your friends out.”

 

Targon frowned again. “I’m sorry, Master Hazo, but I wasn’t informed that there was such an immediate threat.”

 

“We’ll make do,” Hazo sighed. “Come on. There’s…something…here that’s come for the senator. I think it’s a Sith, but I don’t…”

 

There was a soft whistle in the air. Hazo jerked and then he dropped to the ground. A blaster shot was dead in the center of his chest.

 

Targon stood at once and grabbed his lightsaber. He scanned the area, looking for any sign of the shooter.

 

Carefully, he knelt down and checked Hazo for life. He was barely alive, but he was fading fast. His last effort was to press a button on his comlink that sent out a signal to the rest of his team.

 

And then he expired.

 

Targon saw a flash of a black shape in the distance. It zipped through the crowds and headed for the stairs.

 

He knew at once that the assassin was headed for the senator. Quickly, he rose and bolted for the stairs himself, pushing his way through the crowds. He was at the first step when he heard screaming.

 

Someone had noticed the dead man in the hotel. A panic was erupting, but Targon only focused on getting to the senator before the attacker did.

 

---

 

Joan was cursing herself as she bounded up the stairs. After listening in on the Jedi’s conversation, she had heard where the senator was. With that knowledge, she needed to take out Mulok’s Jedi protectors.

 

What she hadn’t counted on was the Jedi about to say something else that was important just as she had pulled the trigger.

 

She knew she was better than that, but she couldn’t dwell on that. The other Jedi might have seen her as she left, and would be in pursuit. She needed to get to the senator quickly and get out of here.

 

At last, she reached room 385. She took a brief moment to catch her breath, and then she burst in, rifle at the ready.

 

The room was a complete mess, doors had been torn off the hinges, clothes and furniture were scattered all over…and they were shredded. The window was shattered, and the cool wind filled the room.

 

She searched the closets, the refreshers, and the bedrooms. Then she found the senator.

 

He was already dead.

 

Senator Mulok lay sprawled on the bed, his clothes ripped off of him. Several long series of slashes stretched across his bare form, blood still trickling out of the lacerations. There was a single hole in his chest.

 

Joan knew it was from a lightsaber.

 

Against the wall was a human woman. Joan knew by the clothing that it was a Jedi Knight.

 

“Alona Jax,” she sighed. “So much for the senator’s protection…”

 

A lightsaber activated from behind her.

 

“Don’t move, assassin,” a young voice said.

 

She rolled her eyes, lifted her hands above her head, and turned to face him. She recognized him as the Jedi that had been talking to Hazo.

 

Joan sighed, “Look, I know what this looks like, but it’s not what you think…”

 

“Don’t try to lie to me,” the Jedi scowled. “You are under arrest for the murder of Senator Mulok and two Jedi Knights.”

 

She growled and shook her head. “Look, Jedi. Look at the bodies – they’ve been dead for more than ten minutes. I had barely gotten here…”

 

“All the same,” the young man said simply. “You killed Master Hazo, and you intended to kill them.”

 

“Not the senator,” Joan shook her head. “I was just looking for information…”

 

“Save it, Imperial,” the Jedi spat. “Agents like you killed a lot of good men on Viserys.”

 

“Oh, that business,” Joan growled. “I didn’t have anything to do with that.”

 

“Maybe not,” the Jedi nodded. “But you’ve got business here. Start talking.”

 

She sighed and took a step forward. The Jedi tensed and raised his saber as she approached.

 

“Look, we’re both at a loss her, Jedi,” Joan said. “Someone killed the senator, and whoever did is no friend of either of us. Do you want to find their killer and get to the bottom of this?”

 

The Jedi’s frown lightened. “Yes.”

 

“So do I,” Joan nodded. “And the longer you keep that saber held up at me is more time for the real killer to get away.”

 

The Jedi hesitated, and then he sighed. He deactivated the lightsaber and shook his head.

 

“There’s a good lad,” Joan smiled. “Folks call me Snipes, by the way.”

 

“I wonder why,” the Jedi’s eyes narrowed at her angrily. “I am Targon. You’re coming with me, and don’t even think of making a move.”

 

“Never crossed my mind,” Joan rolled her eyes.

[TargonKarashi]

Chapter Four

 

Rick was bored. His feet dragged miserably with each step, following behind Gabrielle as she wandered from window to window among the many shops.

 

He noticed with grim annoyance at the many glances at her from passing men. He tried to keep up with her to keep them from getting any ideas. Of course, some of these guys looked pretty large and could easily take her whenever they wanted.

 

But then, they hadn’t ever met a girl like Gabrielle.

 

Or met a guy like him.

 

But this constant following was getting very tedious. And painful. On several occasions he worked up the courage to tell her it was time to wrap it up…but once he cleared his throat and her long lashes fluttered in his direction…his strength deflated.

 

He couldn’t figure out what it was about her. Rick had been around many women in his life…and gotten close to many of them. At one point during his career he had a girlfriend waiting for him at every spaceport from Coruscant to Tattooine.

 

Of course, those relationships hadn’t lasted long. And that was…before…

 

The thought made him wonder if there was something different with Gabrielle. Something like…

 

He shook it off. No. No way was he going to admit to that again. That just caused problems. It’s what ruined his career.

 

Gabrielle had stopped in front of a clothing shop, staring at a certain dress on display.

 

“Well,” she gasped. “Isn’t that the most gorgeous outfit you’ve ever seen?” Her eyes turned to Rick in questioning.

 

Rick shrugged. He was about to say “It looks like the other fifty dresses you’ve looked at on this miserable shopping trip” but he decided against it. This was, after all, the woman that had knocked him unconscious on numerous occasions before.

 

Instead he said, “You know, any outfit would be gorgeous on you.”

 

Gabrielle pursed her lips. “Flattery will get you nowhere.”

 

“It did before, didn’t it?”

 

“Did what?” the Twi’lek smiled. “Got me onto your ship? That was a mix of your charm and my job. Insincere words had nothing to do with it.”

 

“I suppose,” Rick nodded. “But what? You expect me to come up with great and witty comments on the fly all the time?”

 

“Isn’t that what you’re good at?”

 

Rick sighed. “It is one of my many talents…but not the only one.”

 

“Really?” Gabrielle laughed. “Someday we’ll need to see those other talents.”

 

“When?” Rick asked.

 

“Someday,” she answered. “Today won’t be that day…tomorrow probably isn’t looking good either.”

 

“Someday is better than never,” Rick shrugged.

 

Gabrielle laughed, but she was cut off when a scream was heard down the street. The two of them looked over to where a crowd was forming.

 

They made their way over and pushed past the policemen long enough to get a good look at the body in the middle of the street. It was an Iktochi…and he was wearing Jedi robes.

 

“Who is that?” Rick asked.

 

The police pushed them back, shouting at the crowd to keep away.

 

Gabrielle frowned. “I’m not sure who it was…but I could tell he had been dropped from the roof of one of these buildings. Only minutes ago, I guess.”

 

“How?” Rick scowled. “We didn’t hear anything.”

 

“I don’t know…” Gabrielle shook her head. “But from what I could tell of the wounds on him…he was still alive when he fell, though he had been carved up by some nasty weapons. I’d wager some sort of animal claws.”

 

---

 

Sorgal took a sip of his glass. This was his fifth shot already…or was it his sixth? He didn’t really care, though. He was just getting lost in his revelries. It had been a very long time since he had gotten drunk before.

 

At first, his thoughts had been towards anything but the crew he had been with for so long. Their constant nagging at each other…it was far beyond getting on his nerves.

 

He couldn’t understand how a group like that could keep together. That old soldier was a senile geezer that probably wasn’t too far from being locked up. The military did that to people at his age…Sorgal had seen it plenty among Imperial soldiers.

 

That was years and years ago.

 

He started thinking about Sinitar. He didn’t know why he was getting so sentimental about his former master – his dead former master.

 

Sure, Sinitar had been a great teacher. He was a powerful and wise man. His insights could see the problems ahead long before they manifested. It had been him, after all, that had sniffed out Kronos’ rampage.

 

But then…he hadn’t been strong enough to stop him. Kronos had killed Sinitar, had beaten them both, as well as the entire Covenant.

 

He grumbled to himself, “Sinitar’s dead, lying in the bottom of a pit on some pathetic world. You’re going to end up in the gutter, Sorgal.” He snorted. “Or worse…stuck on the Lone Eagle for the rest of your life.”

 

“Maybe you’ve had enough to drink,” the bartender suggested.

 

Sorgal glared at him. “Enough? I haven’t even begun!”

 

“You really should be careful how much you drink,” a man said next to him.

 

Sorgal turned to face him. “Thanks for the advice, dad,” he spat. He glared at the middle-aged Cerean sitting beside him. He noticed the Jedi robes.

 

“And who are you supposed to be?”

 

The Jedi sighed. “I understand you are among the crew of the ship that came to pick us up?”

 

Sorgal took a long swig. “What gives you that erroneous idea, pal?”

 

“I sensed your thoughts from your vulnerable mind,” the Cerean said simply.

 

Sorgal growled. Now he remembered why he hadn’t gotten drunk in a long time. Sinitar had always taught him about how defenseless and easy an intoxicated individual became.

 

“So,” he slurred. “You’re one of the Jedi with that stupid senator, eh?”

 

“I am,” the man nodded.

 

“Well, I’m not the one to be talking to,” Sorgal said as his head bobbed up and down a couple times. “I’m here for some drinks and some relaxation.”

 

“Then who is the one to be talking to?” the Cerean asked.

 

Sorgal hiccupped. “The young Jedi in the nice green outfit…he’s our ‘fearless leader’. Or you could talk to the man in the red jacket…he’s the captain.”

 

“I see,” the Jedi stroked his beard and nodded. “And where might they be?”

 

“Do I look like someone who knows or cares?” Sorgal asked rudely.

 

“No, I suppose not.”

 

“Good that you could notice that, now buzz off, Jedi.”

 

Someone barged into the cantina, huffing and gasping.

 

“Murder!” he shouted hoarsely.

 

“What now?” the bartender asked. “What’s so important?”

 

“A Jedi’s been murdered!” the man replied. “Near the shopping malls! And there’s more! More murders at the Marlotto! A senator and two more Jedi!”

 

The Cerean stood at once. “Where was the first Jedi murdered?”

 

“Shopping malls!” the man shouted. He then ran out and bolted down the street shouting, “Murder! Murder!”

 

The Cerean was gone in a moment, and Sorgal chuckled.

 

“Gone to check on his pal, I suppose,” he shrugged. He finished his drink and set the glass aside. “I should have known this kind of crap was going to happen.”

 

“Why’s that?” the bartender asked.

 

“It’s how it is with the blasted crew of mine,” Sorgal shrugged.

 

The cantina was getting quiet as people started leaving to go see what all the hullabaloo was about. The bartender, too, was leaving.

 

Sorgal remained seated, rubbing his fingers along the edge of the glass and shaking his head.

 

“Typical,” he spat. “I should have known that this was going to turn into another misadventure on a stupid world where trouble follows and finds us to no end.”

 

“And it’s about to get a whole lot worse,” a deep and menacing voice said from behind.

 

Sorgal didn’t react in his drunkenness as a giant, invisible hand grabbed the back of his head and slammed his face into the counter.

 

Then everything went black.