Garden Of Eden

Rules:

1. You might be a Dark Jedi. You might even have your lightsaber. But you are not a god (or goddess). Even Elders are not gods, but they can certainly do a whole lot more than any Equite or Journeyman. In short, godmoding is strictly prohibited and can result in your post being deleted or even death (see rule#2).

2. You are mortal. Death is a viable option for your character. Yeah, you’ve got the Force, but that didn’t really help Qui-Gonn, Darth Maul, Obi-wan, Palpatine, Order 66 casualties, or any other Force user who met an early end, now did it? You put yourself in a hole and you might just end up staying there.

3. Stick to the setting and scenes. As expansive as the Star Wars galaxy is, we’re not running/flying around all over it (unless the story calls for it).

4. Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Yes, the Golden Rule applies here as well. Respect other characters and don’t write them doing something stupid or terribly out of character. Consult the wiki, their character history, or better yet, the member themselves.

5. Following rule #4, never kill another member character without their permission. In the event of serious injury, let the other member character either tell you what to do, or let them write it themselves.

6. What happens in this run-on is permanent for your character. Whether you lose an arm, adopt a herd of banthas, or anything in between, you’re stuck with it and must deal with it.

7. The unit is the character in this story and you are a part of the unit. Aim for continuity in the story; get advice from others on where to take your post.

8. Avoid excessive details where you can. The paint job on your own personal ship (that you somehow have) is not a valid subject for the run-on.

9. Once your post is made, do not go back and edit anything except for grammar and spelling. Otherwise, you stand a good chance of screwing the story up. It also helps to proof read your post before you post it.

10. Finally, posts that excessively detract from the storyline or contain large amounts of godmoding will be marked for deletion and ignored. It is not our goal or desire to keep anyone off the playground, but we will if we must.

Rules Specifically for this Run-On:

1. Starting from my (Ronovi) post, everyone will have disembarked from the Magnus Kaerner onto Yridia IX's starport. Districts I and II are directly located next to the starport. That is where you start. You may venture to any other districts, but you may not randomly place your character anywhere else.

2. Be sure to know what the city you're in is like. Look at its wiki page and go from there. You are free to take any creative license for some of the city's details, but be careful not to go too far past its already founded description.

3. Be aware of consequences. Yes, we are Dark Jedi and subsequently sovereigns to the city. Yes, you may wish to mess with civilians. Keep in mind, however, that there can be consequences for your actions. Who knows, they may assist in the house story if we make some enemies.

4. Please wait 2-4 posts between each post to give people room to write. If it has been a while since someone posted, you may submit another segment after one person posts after your previous post.

5. You have up to three hours after reserving a post. After that, anyone is allowed to post even if you may have reserved a spot.

Eden. Not like its name meant anything to what the city really was like. Some called it a place of sin and havoc. Others called it a perfect metropolis. Well, it was a metropolis, a center of trade and profit, the biggest in Yridia. And Tarentum relied on it. Heavily. Just as much as as the clan desired the city to rely on its dark sovereign.

Of all the planets in the Yridia system, Yridia IX and its citizens were most affected by the clan's operations, especially those that were military. With each war came a change in its main city's economy. Many would profit from heavy inflation of the cost of military supplies, and when businesses applied themselves to the cause, they did not go away empty-handed. Even Tarentum's generals had noticed, albeit not without at least a bit of irritation, that when they went to buy supplies for their troops, their supply of credits would be significantly smaller after their "shopping sprees." Each reward the city earned, however, was sufficiently countered. Almost as if they, too, were at battle with weapons of their own.

Taxation. Military spending. Budgets. All concerns of the many Yridian civilians. Eduardo Griffin most of all. He knew that with the newly finished Brotherhood war, his people were growing tense and fidgety. Crime was already high, but it had jumped up a considerable amount, especially with the idea that Tarentum, perhaps, was a bit teetering since its bloody encounter on Antei. Each recovery effort for the clan would require more loans, more taxes - that could not be avoided. No matter how many dealings they held with the powerful criminal families who almost pulled the control of Eden out of Griffin's grip.

The governor would not have that. He paced his office, running his hand through his brown hair that got a little grayer every day. He had been alerted of Tarentum's interest to speak with him and his political advisors concerning the next steps in Tarentum-Yridian diplomacy. Griffin smiled as he thought about the possibility of taking advantage of Tarentum's desires...nay, perhaps their necessities. They had felt the consequences of their war. Now was the time for him to take the opportunity and run with it.

If the clan didn't want another revolt, he thought, they had best take better care in compromise.

---

The final preparations for Cestus's departure for Eden were being made as volunteers for the mission filed their way into the VSD Corsair's hangar bay. Many were speaking amongst themselves, wondering aloud why the crisis in Eden was so important that Cestians themselves had to take care of it. Sure, Eden could be a place of chaos and dystopia, but why bother with it now especially when Tarentum was in the midst of its own recovery? Then again, perhaps it was for this very reason, that the clan had to be careful so as not to let any "bomb" tick for too long. Even after the war, people were still debating.

Within her quarters, Quaestor Ronovi Tavisaen was putting the finishing touches on her new addition to her uniform. Her hooded cloak had been tucked away, and now she wore a long, black coat that did well to accentuate her impressive stature. Adjusting her officer insignia and letting her granted stars as general rest against her collar, the Obelisk Templar was interrupted by a brisk knock at the door.

"Are we all ready?" she inquired as the door swung open to present Vai Azexel, her second-in-command. While not dressed as militantly as his superior was, he still bore the intimidation of any official of the clan. He gave a short nod to Ronovi's question.

"Everything is prepared, as you asked. Welshman has arranged for shuttles to take us to the Aegis. We'll then take the Magnus Kaerner to Yridia IX. Welsh is waiting for the go ahead there."

"Nothing like showing off a little firepower to level Griffin's head," Ronovi muttered with a sly grin as she exited her room alongside her Aedile.

And that exactly was her plan - while Tarentum had met casualties on the battlefield, its naval power was still not something to be ignored by any government official. The Quaestor was well aware of Griffin's possible attempts to wiggle out of the grip of the clan summit - but his own ties to them could come back to haunt him once the meeting with him began.

The two house leaders entertained themselves with small talk as they briskly entered the dimly lit hangar of the VSD Corsair. Those who would stay behind saw them off, saluting or bowing as they passed. Ronovi let Anshar's orders linger in her mind as she entered the last of the shuttles, looking out the window as the door closed with a soft hiss.

Thoroughly investigate the city of Eden. The entire city. Regular citizens, criminals, police, the governor.

The darkness of space welcomed the shuttle as it lifted from the hangar floor and drifted away from the Corsair.

---

Home again, Ronovi thought as she felt her transport land softly against the surface of Eden's starport. Her men from the first division of the Corps had silently greeted her as she entered the Magnus Kaerner earlier, and she had greeted her military advisor, Eriro Dusquen, as he erected his browned hand against his balding forehead in a strict salute. They had already discussed the first steps of their plan, to keep the MK in orbit while they took transports down to the ground. Good enough to make a point. Ronovi had reminded herself that the clan's yacht still sat unused in the MK's hangar. She'd have to figure out how to use that later.

Several members of Cestus welcomed Ronovi and Vai on the starport as they exited their transport, including Sith Bloodfyre and Ronovi's former master, Doni Tzu. Doni Tzu had hesitated in taking on what he considered to be a mundane mission, but he now did so at the Quaestor's request to be her Elder representative when she began discussions with Governor Griffin. After all, being a veteran of Tarentum, he knew of its proceedings more so than Ronovi could even fathom for now.

Besides the Elders, more of Cestus waited for orders in the cold, generated air of Yridia IX's metropolis. Rollmaster Ji K'awiil stood waiting, his face as usual concealed under his helmet, his mechanic by his side. Windos, in the body of Yridian Gallus Octavius, kept his brow furrowed as he directed his attention toward the many buildings that lay before the group. Former Quaestor Kazarelth had joined the group, as well as Protector Tier-Avis, one of the most promising new members. Even Welshman had left his usual post on the Magnus Kaerner to join the group below, allowing the other officers to keep the ship in orbit as he managed those members of the Nightwraiths who had decided to participate in the mission.

As Ronovi, flanked by Dusquen and two of her Corps subordinates, approached the group, she bowed to them before speaking. The atmosphere of her homeworld was getting to her, and she attempted to tear her mind away from wondering about her family, nestled in District III. The Working Man's District. Her priorities were elsewhere.

"As you all know, Consul Anshar has arranged for us to observe and report on Eden. The information is to be transmitted back to the clan summit for review. Now, I know that Gladius could've taken on that job, but that house has assignments of its own, and Hell, we need something of some weight to do. Vai, Doni Tzu, and I have already arranged to meet with Governor Griffin in an hour in District I, which is just nearby. Ji, it is up to you to come with us to the meeting, but if you wish to work with the rest of the volunteers, that's your call.

"If you all wish, you may start from Districts I or II and work from there. Otherwise, I want you all to spread out. Partake in the entertainment. Go to the slums. Bust up some crime syndicates if you want. But report everything back to us."

As Ronovi finished, she scanned the patient group for any responses. "We clear?" The silent wave of nods comforted her. "Good. Let's get to work, then."

Windos tugged at the neck of his civilian garb uncomfortably. Though the memory his muscles carried remembered the clothes well, his mind longed for a loose robe or a crisp naval uniform. He looked around, taking in the city from the star port. Windos hated this city, not for its aesthetics or general atmosphere, but for fear that his vessel would struggle for control at the sight of home.

“Ji!” Yelled Windos a little louder than he had intended at he noticed the Roll Master walking out of the star port alone. The now youthful Obelisk jogged up beside his old friend with an uncharacteristic smile, “Come, Roll Master, I believe I owe you a drink.”

The Ubese tilted his head in a manner that Windos had learnt to interpret a sign of confusion.

“For accepting my challenge last we were at the combat center.”

“Windos, that is ancient history.”

“True, but I never forget a reason for a drink. Plus you heard Ronovi, ‘Partake in the entertainment.’”

Ji tilted his head in the other direction, a gesture that signaled reserved submission as Windos’ hand slapped his back and the pair walked out into the murk of District One.

---

District One was often considered the up-market sector of the city, featuring the government facilities and the largest of the cities entertainment businesses. Windos despised it. Despite its cleanness, the place reeked; to Windos’ nose at least.

The place bustled with activity that always set Windos on edge and for a moment he wondered if it had the same effect on his companion. He almost had to push through crowds at stages which he feared would allow someone to feel, and recognize, his concealed lightsabre.

Eventually they stood before the BlastTech, a bar famous for its almost complete collection of replica BlastTech weapons that adorned the walls. A droid stood outside the main entrance, posing as security but anyone that had been here before knew it was only elaborate decoration.

The bar proper was situated under a partial wall that separated Districts One and Four and seemed to take on aspects of both. On the surface it appeared to be a highly civilized and entirely legal operation, but almost every knew of the illegal dealings that took place beneath the surface.

Windos lead his companion to empty booth in a dark corner where they sat and soaked in their surroundings. After a few moments a human bartender made his over to their table took their order, and Windos’ credit chip, and left again.

Windos looked directly at Ji and said loudly, “I wish we were allowed to torture information out of these people.” He couldn’t the Roll Master’s eyes, but he imagined they were bulging in alarm.

Laughing away his companions concern, Windos pointed up at a foreign device imbedded in the ceiling above their booth, then the others like it near by. “They prevent conversations at these booths traveling to prying ears.”

Ji waited for the staff to deliver their drink before continuing their conversation, “So how do we find out what the locals are up to if we can’t hear them.”

Windos simply shrugged and took a drink from his cup, the Yridian Ale warming his organs as it slid down his throat.

The city of Eden is, and always was, a betrayal. A betrayal of freedom and slavery, a betrayal of virtue and vice, an opposite within itself. The happiness promised from vast sums of wealth to be had from the freedom of market capitalism and trade was betrayed by the despicable and sordid manner in which some of those markets obtained their goods. The vice, the teeming underbelly that was so prevalent that it hid - poorly - in plain sight, betrayed by the lavish attempts the city government and its citizens went through to make themselves appear respectable, like a bloodied boxer who smiles at the end of the fight. The contrast was humorously apparent depending on which district you were in; the "tidy" District One with its government offices and respectable businesses was very clean to be sure, but upon closer inspection would reveal sordid dens of depravity in the basement lots of some of the larger buildings, back in the back alleys. The prostitutes couldn't stand in one place for long, but they were there. District Six virtually overflowed with cancerous rot, exploitation, fraud, and a million other degenerations of civilization too extensive to mention; the police tried to patrol into it as much as they could, and at any hour of the day you could find them beating a gangster to a pulp, or engaging in a firefight with a local druglord.

Into this artificial atmosphere the Tarenti walked; for some a familiar walk, others less so. For Tarentum, Yridia IX was the sort of system that they preferred to ignore, as long as it worked, and as such many Tarenti never had any business on it. Unfortunately for all parties involved, Tarentum now had real business to attend to with this, their economic powerhouse who played just out of mother's sight. And as unsupervised children are wont to do, this one was in trouble.

For all its unbridled dichotomy, it was still a pleasant place, if foreign. One of imnumerable engineered planets, it sat on the very edge of its solar system, and was a naturally cold and barren place. The necessities of civilization had transformed it into a bustling metropolis and important trading hub, but the process of the transformation was starkly opposed to all natural processes. Sunlit by gigantic orbital mirrors, atmospherically regulated by titan machinery forever unseen, Eden was a place that should not be. Not that its citizens who lived upon it or Clan Tarentum who depended upon it cared in the slightest for that technicality.

The entourage of Tarenti strolled leisurely through it all and tried to ignore whatever gave them particular offense. With the war over, there was no rush, and everyone had earned the right to take things easy for awhile. There was not much distance to cover anyway, as the starport had sensibly easy access to the most important Districts in Eden, I and II. Having grown up in this place, it was all too familiar to Tavisaen, although after having been to many other worlds since joining the Clan, she did notice that the recycled air seemed a little stale. Evening was setting in - at least, that's what the orbital mirrors were trying to convey - and with it the familiar sounds and smells that always arose from a city such as this one. The security detail kept a low profile as they traversed a street and back onto a sidewalk. Her former master, Doni Tzu, had customarily appeared by her side and fell into a position slightly behind. Above, the undying stars twinkled through the refraction of the shield keeping Eden's air in. The omnipresent din of laughter, shouting, cargo carriers, personal transports, and the like was occasional rent by the peal of an aerospace fighter roaring overhead. The military types, following more strictly behind the Obelisk, seemed very bored with a task that they were relatively certain would require none of their intervention or expertise, and many were looking forward to indulging in Eden's many guilty pleasures after the conference.

The dull and dark brown-gray that blanketed the architectural motif of Eden was as dreary as the ever-night sky that rose over it. There was something that was always tired about this place, as if the entire city shared in its citizens collective and unconscious exasperation of the endless and ultimately meaningless rat race of seeking wealth and losing it. There were, of course, exceptions. The gleaming spire of the central government building holding the Governor's office stood tall and brightly, reminding those across all districts of who held the ultimate power in Eden - or at least so they thought. Bright neon signs advertised for cheap liquor, deadly weapons, exotic drugs, fast speeders, and a plethora of other products far too extensive to name. The myriad sources of light screamed through the ether and cast infinite shadows by their own accord, reminding any object within their line of sight that the signs did in fact exist.

His wandering sight gave cause to break Doni Tzu from his typically arcane thoughts. His former student, a few feet ahead, seemed carefree despite being backlit by the crazed depravity of this place. For much of her life this was all she knew.

"Was it always like this?" he sort of loudly-sighed at her.

"I felt you looking at me," she replied, turning the left side of her head to look at him with her mechanical eye - more mechanical than it needed to be. He wondered if she kept it that way to give others discomfort.

The Adept said nothing at first, letting it be known from his silence that she was expected to answer his query. A pregnant pause elapsed before she looked away from him and ahead again. The Templar's shoulders heaved in a shrug.

"I guess. Everything changes over time, but it has always been the way it is, in purpose at least."

Doni Tzu let the conversation go at that. The central government building was towering over them now.

The interior of the central government building was no less extravagant than its exterior, its gold-bordered walls and ceiling matching the gold capped spire that almost pierced the artificial atmosphere that hovered about it. More red and gold in this room, and it would have looked like an over-the-top abode of utmost nobility. Everyone in District I was prone to doing that, anyway - Ronovi had heard the stories from her father when he was tasked with fixing the ships of the wealthiest in the city. Their tales of epic wealth seemed rather vapid and empty, like something was missing despite such proclaimed comfort. The setting in this building, though a declared place of governmental law and business matters, was no exception to that rule.

Two guards had led the entourage into the main lobby before taking them up a spiral staircase that seemed to coil more like a serpent than anything else. The doors to the Governor's conference room could not have been more exaggerated in the Quaestor's mind, as she shot an incredulous glance at Dusquen. The aging Major seemed to take it all into stride, however, his hands folded in front of him as if he had been used to this sort of professional showing off. Rather than pushing the doors open, however, the guards stood in front of the group, their faces stern.

"We must ask you to hand over any weapons on your person before entering the chambers," one ordered.

Ronovi raised an eyebrow. "You can't be serious."

"Safety precautions. Standard proceedings, you know."

Working hard not to grin out of sheer amusement, Ronovi unhooked her saber from her side and handed it over along with two SSK-7s she had on her person. Vai passed over his own saber, as well as a couple of grenades, but Doni Tzu, having no weapons on him, could only stare down the guards with his yellow eyes until they stopped prying for something. The fact that the Tarenti's grasp on the Force alone was enough of a threat made the three wonder what exactly the point was of such an inspection, and as the guards moved to the soldiers flanking the group, Ronovi raised a hand.

"You'll allow my bodyguards their arms, won't you?" she asked.

"Ma'am..."

"Please," Ronovi said. "Do I look like someone who wants to waste time causing trouble?"

The guards looked at each other before nodding and turning to the doors. The Dark Jedi's weapon inventory lay in a ragged pile on a nearby table as one of the guards moved to open one of the doors.

The group entered in complete silence. The meeting room was mostly devoid of furniture and decorations, save for a long table and chairs and a well-lavished, overindulgent self-portrait of the governor. As Ronovi stopped walking to scan the clump of government officials before her, she could not help but notice that they were all similarly dressed in uniforms or tails of utmost authoritarian formality. She could immediately identify Stanson Rend, head of the criminal family that Tarentum was affiliated with for secret military proceedings, sitting among the government workers, his beard neatly trimmed as he silently reveled in his newly gained "authority."

Rend, however, was not of Ronovi's concern, as she turned to the slightly balding man sitting in the center chair. "Mister Griffin," she pronounced, purposely adding a sense of sharp enthusiasm into her tone.

The governor rose at this, his sanguine face stoic as the wrinkles in his forehead seemed to become amplified. "General Tavisaen, is it not?" he asked. "Or should I call you Quaestor?"

"Quaestor is a clan thing. General will do just fine." Ronovi exchanged glances with her fellow ambassadors and advisors. "Vai Azexel, my second-in-command. Eriro Dusquen, my military advisor. Doni Tzu, my diplomatic advisor."

"Well, you certainly have your back-up," Griffin replied, an almost clown-like smile forming on his lips. It was as if he were attempting to lift the obvious tension that would increase as the conference began. Even his own men noticed that. "Well, take a seat. I'm sure your...men can take their places by the door."

"Absolutely," Ronovi replied, nodding decisively at the two soldiers that stood rigidly around the group. They arranged themselves at opposite posts as the four approached the table, sitting at chairs opposite of the wall of representatives and so-called senators.

"So," Griffin began after a lengthy silence, "you seem not to be from around here, General."

"Actually, I am," replied Ronovi, her voice a bit thin. "I've lived here all my life with my family."

"Have you? Charming. You just seemed to be from somewhere else. Epicanthix, aren't you?"

Ronovi raised her eyebrows. The man knew how to identify species.

"Perhaps you know some Epicant? I've always been fascinated by the language."

"Oh, no, Governor," replied Ronovi, "I don't speak the language. Never learned it."

"Pity," muttered Griffin, his tone almost monotonous as he scanned the small group. "Well, I'm sure you're all impatient for an actual discussion, aren't you?"

"Only if you're ready, Mister Griffin," replied Doni Tzu, his amplified whisper disorienting some of the Yridians. "We don't want to...push you too hard."

Ronovi grinned as Griffin stared at the strange entity that was her former master. This discussion was going to be very interesting.

“What are you looking at?”

Windos rapped idly at his empty glass then shifted his gaze away from the ubese’s helmet. “Sorry, I don’t think I’ll ever get my head around how you drink in that thing.”

“You realize I despise your species and your ability to breathe that foul gas.”

The Obelisks fingers stopped their dance abruptly and clenched around the empty vessel. A smirk crossed his face and he flung the object across the booth. Glass showered down over Ji, who’d easily dodged the projectile.

No one around noticed the playful altercation except perhaps the bartender who delivered fresh drinks a minute later.

“Do you think you could disable the silencer over our neighbors?” Windos asked as he wrapped his gaunt digits around the cold glass.

The ubese shifted his hand slightly, pointing it in the vague direction of the adjacent booth.

---

Oscar Munroe paced purposefully through the streets of District One, his personal guard several short steps behind. He loathed this area of his city but it was only the richest residents, or the boldest thieves, that could afford the product he peddled.

He considered this city his, but something about the formation of people he had passed as he left the central government building left him unsettled. They had carried with them an aura of authority that he had never encountered before, even in the heads of government departments whom he had occasional dealings.

His hand slipped into his pocket as he and his entourage rounded the final corner on their way to the BlasTech and fumbled with the tidily packaged vials of Glitterstim. He often wondered why this client always insisted on meeting in the gimmicky bar; silencing equipment wouldn’t stop prying eyed from noticing the exchange of illegal narcotics.

And still his mind wandered back to the mysterious group of off worlders, especially that woman with the overly mechanical eye.

As he entered the bar, Oscar waved his guards over to an empty booth then walked to his customer; sitting in a booth next to two merry looking patrons, one of which with wore an ubese helmet and was busy making obscure gestures with his hand.

Oscar sat, ready to complete a deal that would buy him another star ship.

Griffin held his eyes on the curious half-phantasm that was the Dark Adept for a moment.

Kriffing cultists.

"Well, General, since it was you who requested an audience with us, perhaps you'd like to start things off." The Governor folded his hands together on his desk and leaned forward to feign interest, smiling that same oily, worn smile.

"Certainly. We will cut right to the chase, Mr. Griffin. The war which recently involved Tarentum has been resolved but costs linger." At even the very mention of the word "costs", many of the assembled guests muttered unhappily to each other. Tavisaen pretended not to notice, casually glancing to them and then back to the Governor.

"As such, Tarentum is levying a series of taxes to pay war debts. Since Eden and the rest of the Yridia system has so profitably gained from our protection, we are confident that you will not find it difficult to repay our kindness." Ronovi folded her hands in her lap gently and eyed Griffin intently, watching for any hint of emotion to betray his thoughts.

Griffin was not a fool. He could have read the minds of his constituent guests even had they not betrayed themselves. Eden was a trade city, and taxes are the enemy of trade. He laughed a sort of nervous, unbelieving laugh and returned Ronovi's stare with equal intensity.

"What kind of taxes are we speaking of, General?"

"Oh, somewhere in the area of fifteen percent." Ronovi deadpanned.

A blink was all she got out of Griffin but others in the room were less restrained. A representative of one of the larger shipping conglomerates shot out of his seat.

"That is outrageous! You'll ruin us!"

His outburst spurred the bravery of others who immediately rose and shouted like-minded accusations. Ronovi looked at them impassively, almost uncaring, before returning her attention to the Governor.

Griffin laughed again, a bit more nervously, and splayed his hands pleadingly. "My good general, this is a trading town. We can hardly afford such a thing. The cost of doing business will skyrocket." Griffin turned his head slyly and shot a glance back to Ronovi out of the corner of his eye. "Besides, it wasn't our war in the first place. Why should we fund the replacement of your losses, which, I may add, I heard were significant."

The Templar narrowed her eyes at the sleezy politician. Wherever he got his information, he was more right than not, and that he actually thought himself in a position to make veiled threats was alarming.

"And if that was not enough," the Governor continued, reclining back in his chair confidently. "Raising taxes on the people may cause a fresh round of riots, not unlike the ones that your graces so recently put down. Surely you all recall those days." Doni Tzu, the only one of the assembled who had been in Eden on such an occasion, narrowed his own malevolent gaze at the governor.

Tavisaen bit the inside of her cheek and pursed her lips. "I see. So you are threatening insurrection for our tax policy, Governor?"

Once again, the fake smile, the submissive posture, all meaningless. "Of course not, my dear General. All I am saying is that these things are possible..."

The Obelisk had enough of Griffin's equivocation and nonsense words. She rose from her chair and looked to her entourage. "I think we can call this meeting adjourned. Tarenti, let's go."

"Now General..." Griffin began, reaching out a hand.

Ronovi twisted back angrily towards the governor, levelling a finger at him. "As for you, Mr. Griffin. You will cooperate with the Clan. Currently one of our most commanding ships is hovering in orbit around your planet. It has enough firepower to entirely level this city. Do not underestimate our willingness to do this."

Griffin's jaw dropped at this unusually aggressive statement, and his audience was silent in shock. The Tarenti filed out the door, with the phantasmal Dark Adept in the rear. Doni Tzu paused at the door and turned slightly back towards the room.

"Oh, and Mister Governor..."

Griffin looked back to the door from conversing with one of his aids who had run to his side, attempting to control the damage.

Doni Tzu outstretched a hand at one of the Governor's guards, who immediately screamed and lifted his hands to cover his face, though it was far too late. Blood was streaming from his eyesockets.

"We'll be watching you."

Griffin looked down, horrified, at his desk. There before him were his guards eyes, staring lifelessly at him, the roughly severed cords of nerves dripping blood over the carefully polished wood. The "cultist" vanished as the room erupted in pandemonium, and the guard screamed in agony.

Over the din, Stanson Rend’s voice clearly held sway as he ordered a few guards to remove their comrade from the room. Several councillors and officials screamed their head off trying to either persuade Griffin of the ruin that would accompany the tax hike or the folly of rebelling against these cultists and pointing in the general direction of the bloodstain that was all that remained now of the guard.

“One bomb from that ship, whatever it is orbiting our planet, and we are all doomed. Doomed I say! Better live in poverty than be dead.” A shifty eyed official shouted at Eduardo Griffin and the other officials present, waving his arms in the unofficial symbol of imminent apocalypse.

“What bomb, Santen?” Rend’s silky tone took them all by surprise, “do you know for a fact that they will commence orbital bombardment on their prize jewel, the city of Eden? We who provide them with the majority of the tax money? Hah!”

“You underestimate the malice of these fanatics! They will do anything to prove their point – it has been done before.”

“No sir, it has not. When they quelled the rebellion seven years ago, it was for the prime goal of taking over this city. They would not want all those seven years of hard work be nullified by a trigger happy girl, who ironically belongs to this city…she has her entire family here, in District III, doesn't she?”

Griffin blinked. He could understand where Rend was going, but he was not willing to appreciate what he was hinting at. He supposed being a criminal for a long time made for a one-track mind. He coughed slightly and looked at Rend curiously.

“So you are saying that it was just a threat, and nothing more?” He chuckled nervously, and the others looked at Rend.

“Indeed. They will not see such a threat followed through. I have my sources, and some resources that might make a difference here. However, gentlemen, I am sure you would like to have this matter resolved…‘peacefully’.”

“And what about that Dark Jedi with a penchant for unnecessary violence?” Another voice, a rougher voice, rose up and challenged Rend.

“Intimidation tactics; works on some, doesn’t work on others. I am sure we can find a way to work around these roadblocks. Good day, gentlemen.” He bowed slightly and walked out of the room, leaving it in chaos once again.

--

District VII was a blend of districts III and IV, with a liberal sprinkling of an essence of its own. The alien district was bustling with all sorts of life. Colourful skins apart, this was also the marketplace of the most expensive illegal items and a warehouse of the unusual. There were quite a few lucrative shop owners who got by selling anything they got their hands upon – and selling it at an atrocious premium by wording the names of the items differently, exotically.
Kazarelth Talismarr walked towards that one shop he was familiar with. That shop was famous for its cheap, porcelain statuettes – the only reason a few hurried footfalls would proceed towards the shop from either of the two bordering districts. However, unknown to many, this shop also sold trinkets that belonged to dead people and were dear to them. Collecting such objects was Talismarr’s ‘hobby’. He smiled at the thought of meeting the long lost Uncle Tim who liked to play with fire, eventually leading to his end one fine day.

He removed his hood and entered the shop, to be greeted with the familiar face of the shopkeeper.
“Ahh… master Talismarr…” He grinned, looking expectantly at his best paying customer.

‘What do you have for me this time, Lusen?’

District II was a short walk through District I from the starport that Tier-Avis Nami had landed at with his fellow clansmen, including a detachment from the newly formed Nightwraiths, an elite troop Nami had jumped at the chance to join. Somewhat devoid of the entertainment and shops of the “Uptown District”, Nami had his own reasons for exploring this particular region of the city. In this, he explored alone.

Tier-Avis tried not to gawk at the stunning gathering of people and technology that Eden had to offer. He had visited many a starport in his days as a “smuggler”, but never ventured into the cities that supported them. His dislike of the general population made sure of that. Nothing of his childhood days in his home village on Kiffu had readied him for this, either.

The crowds were thicker than he felt comfortable with, though his glares and general appearance kept the people, whether out on errands or commuting or on secret missions, at a comfortable distance. The size and grandeur of the buildings, though not as pompously ornate as those in District I, were strangely foreign to him, having lived in a kind of wilderness all his life up until his arrival at Taras months earlier. The thing that irked him the most, however, was the quality of the manufactured environment, even here in the “better” part of the city. How anyone tolerated it for long was a mystery to him. One that annoyed him as well as boggled his mind.

He walked the streets of District II, not really sure where he was heading. He passed countless buildings, headquarters for peddling everything from construction opportunities to insurance. He hardly thought that the summit would worry much about hardened builders or slick insurance salesmen. Still he kept an eye on everything he could as the shock of the city’s sights became commonplace.

He had learned before coming to Eden that District II was the home of the city’s police force. His history in the Kiffu Guardians and the events surrounding his brother’s death on Kiffex told him he was bound to find something of interest in the members of this police entity.

He stopped to ask for directions to the police headquarters several times, each time receiving stony looks and silence in response. Pulling his hood off his head, he stopped at the next building he came upon. Glancing both ways down the street, he ducked into the door and off the street to inquire within about the elusive police headquarters. His quick glance up the street back the way he came had confirmed the suspicions he’d had since entering the area from District I. He was being followed.

Fear was on the faces of the government guards who stood outside the door of the meeting room. Looking over the entourage of Dark Jedi, the guards backed away slowly from the table where the Tarenti's weapons lay. From behind the closed door, the muffled screams of the guard brought upon a realization that this was real as the entourage of Dark Jedi finished re-equipping their weapons and walked back down the spiral staircase that had led them to their encounter with the city officials. Commotion and heated discussion were heard by the Dark Adept, who walked at the rear of the line of Dark Jedi as they hurried their way down the central corridor of the government center. His show of power did make impact; however, these government types could not be trusted, and thus kept himself alert.

Ronovi’s black boots made resounding taps as she walked briskly towards the entrance with her Aedile at her side. Vai could sense the anger radiating from his friend and master as they exited the building and walked upon a bridge that led to District IV.

“The nerve. Who the hell does Griffin think he’s dealing with?” scowled the Epicanthix as she paused for moment in the middle of the bridge. The night sky, or as the orbital mirrors created it to be, had fallen upon the city and the entourage of three Dark Jedi and compatriots.

Doni Tzu hovered stationary; his phantasmal form shifted and flowed as occasional gusts of stale air blew through the man-made canyon of steel and metal. “I felt dissention among them, as if another power were impacting upon the Governor’s thoughts and actions. There is more here than was we are seeing,” said the Dark Adept as he looked directly at his former apprentice’s mechanical eye.

Turning away from Doni Tzu’s stare, Ronovi looked at Vai, who was deep in thought. “What do you think Vai” queried the Quaestor.

Vai wasn’t always the biggest talker, but he had wisdom enough that his input was wanted. “I have to agree with the Adept, there is more here than we are seeing. From our understanding, Griffin doesn’t normally argue with Tarentum. He knows that we made him what he is now and he normally wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize that. I sensed almost malice against us in that conference room, and ever since we arrived I’ve been getting the sensations that we aren’t wanted and are seen as a threat to a city that frankly the clan made.”

Ronovi looked over the edge of the bridge and breathed in the air of the city that was once her home. If need be, the Epicanthix knew that Tarentum could destroy this city and all its people. But at what cost? Eden City was a major source of the Clan’s funds and supplies, and losing that resource could cripple the entire clan. More than that, she would be the “murderer” of her own family. The thought of that sent out sensations to her fellow Dark Jedi who turned to face her.

Placing his right hand on Ronovi’s left shoulder, Vai said, “It won’t come to that. There will be another way for the clan to get what we need out of this city. Don’t give up hope, working with government is all about dealing and making compromises. With that said, they will be the one’s making compromises. I seriously doubt the officials want Tarentum taking over their city once again.”

Letting down her guard for a moment Ronovi turned to her second-in-command and let a small smile out before turning toward Dusquen. “Major, you haven’t said much, what’s on your mind?”

Dusquen, a career military officer, snapped to attention and then about-faced toward Ronovi. “General, from what I have seen this city is doing well, almost too well,” said the Major as he walked up to the trio of Dark Jedi. Continuing, Dusquen said, “The price on the street is high and my sources are telling me that the people aren’t receiving services that they should be. In addition, my sources tell me that Griffin has been acting distant lately and letting his advisors take charge in some areas of concern to the clan” finished up the Major.

Ronovi’s eye was wide as she listened to her military advisor’s report on the city. There was more going on here than what was seen at a larger view. Concern filled the Epicanthix's mind as she looked over the bridge back at the government center. As she began to walk back towards the government center for answers, Vai stopped her. Turning, Ronovi gave Vai a ferociouslu angry look as if a Kinrath was about to pounce.

Vai swallowed and then said, “Tensions are high right now and we won’t get the answers we seek. In fact, barging in there right now could widen the conflict.”

Looking down, Ronovi once again noticed Vai’s hand holding her arm gently. “Let go of me, Vai. I’m not a child,” shot out the Epicanthix in a diminutive tone. Releasing her immediately, Vai stepped away and by instinct placed his hand on his saber.

The tension of the current situation had nerve frayed and an unforeseen tension was rising between the two leaders of Cestus. The Dark Adept said, "Stop it, both of you,” as he looked as both of them with his glowing yellow eyes. “This isn’t the time or place for this. Save it for the Corsair,” finished Doni Tzu.

Lifting his hand from his saber, the Aedile turned and nodded to the ethereal form of the Dark Adept.

In an attempt to lift the spirits of those around him, Vai said, “How about we head to District IV and get some drinks? I’ll even buy a few rounds of Corellian whiskey.” finished the Firrerreon. With that offer, Ronovi’s eye perked up. She knew Vai said that for her to get her mind off the moment of tension between them.

Vai’s offer was genuine, though Ronovi knew District IV very well. She remembered her past as a pit fighter that the people used to bid for and against. She had earned quite a reputation for her ruthlessness and effectiveness in the ring, sending many home in various shapes. She wondered if anyone would recognize her when she entered the area and what may come of it. The Epicanthix wasn’t afraid or anything; she knew how to handle herself and with her bodyguard no one would mess with her in this place. A part of her wondered if she would run into any of her family here. She hadn’t heard from her siblings since she was recruited into the brotherhood and was curious what had happened to them in this place.

The entourage walked across the marble and metal span as winds whipped across its surface causing pieces of trash to float into the air. In the distance the thumb of music could be heard as buildings lit up in the sector ahead showed their brilliance. Ronovi knew that in the middle of the town in the lower level was the ring where the Brotherhood had found her. She thought what her life would have been like if that event hadn’t occurred.

A sign ahead on the bridge announced where the entourage was at: Welcome to District IV, with the word Sin sprayed on underneath. The entourage paused for a moment before continuing into District IV.

Above the buildings of Eden, the hum of engines could be heard. The generated skies served as an excellent area for travel, and the buzz of personal ships and cargo freighters contributed to the cacophony that arose from the city boundaries. Each district had its offer of ships that worked to add to the racing and trading element of this hub, this metropolis of activity. To plot any risky maneuver through this maze of ships would practically be impossible save for an ace pilot. Or perhaps some outer power.

It didn't stop one transport. From above, a PCL-27 freighter entered Eden's atmosphere.

---

Nothing about District IV had changed over the past few years. Its smells, sights, even the thick, smokey taste of the air as the group wove through bustling civilians looking for some form of a good time. To the side, a circle had gathered around two drunks pounding each other with bloody, sloppy punches. A man scuttled by, stuffing what was most likely a stash of deathsticks into his coat. But above all, the music prevailed, the harsh beats and notes of the instrumentation played from each entertainment establishment around.

Yes, in three years, nothing had changed. Ronovi almost smiled at that as she scanned the various buildings for perhaps a quieter bar for a drink. Her soldiers' eyes appeared to be elsewhere, looking at women as young as in their teens flaunting everything to get a client. The Epicanthix heard a harsh sigh from her master.

"Is this outing really necessary?" asked Doni Tzu over the din of the excited populace.

"This place should offer at least something to take note of," replied Ronovi. "After all, the District of Sin would have many tales of sin for us to take advantage of."

"I still don't think we had to pop in for a drink, though."

"Well, hopefully we can find a place in better taste than the others." Ronovi was being ridiculous saying that, but she figured it'd make the Dark Adept feel at least a little less irritated. Still, a refined place to drink was hard to come by, and already Vai was directing his attention toward what looked like a more risqué club. But that was when she noticed a certain Sith Warlord passing by.

"Welsh?" she called out just as Vai began to hurry toward him.

The battle team leader turned around to see the group but did not appear to be fazed in the slightest. Rather, he chuckled.

"I see you guys were interested in this place, too. Not for the racing, though, am I right?"

"Is that why you're here?" asked Ronovi.

"It's always nice to see what the local pilots have been up to. Plus the mechanics they do on their swoop race vehicles can be learned from," said Welsh. He looked at the entrance to the club before looking at the group again. "Were you planning to go in here? They have excellent service. Dancers, too."

"Yes, 'dancers.' If you call them that," muttered Dusquen, but Welsh waved dismissively at the major's remark.

"You don't have to watch if you don't want to. They just have a little pit for those crazy types. But the drinks are great, I've heard. C'mon."

And with that, Welsh swiftly strode into the club, pushing by a crowd of people. No VIP was needed; a gentle mind trick and the group was in. Ronovi hesitated at first at going in, and she already knew her master was not pleased. Still, he seemed to, in any way he could with his form, grin and bear it as the group moved toward one of the corner tables and sat down.

The music was better than what they offered in some of the other places as a waitress immediately swooped by to take orders. Ronovi requested a tall glass of Corellian whiskey without a moment's hesitation, as Welsh and Vai did the same. Dusquen and the soldiers seemed happy to get the finest liquor in the house, as Doni Tzu settled for nothing, as was his way. Instead, he merely sat with his eyes scanning the place, probably hoping for something at least remotely interesting to look at.

Ronovi found herself doing the same, until her eyes fell upon the "pit" that Welsh had mentioned. Already the dancers were strutting their stuff, and Dusquen's point rang truer to her than before. This wasn't dancing. Even at moments, a dancer would beckon a wealthy and eager looking man away from the stage and disappear for all the reasons the Epicanthix didn't want to think about. Their bends and twists as they catered to the hungry masses reminded her of the dancers for the Huttese Lords. It sickened her.

Still, one dancer's movement caught her eye, and after accepting her drink, she focused on the girl as she sipped. There was something familiar about her, the way she moved and dipped, the way she pursed her lips. Her bare belly glistened in the dim lighting as she smiled at those who cheered her on, and it was when Ronovi finally saw her eyes that her mouth went completely dry.

She set down her glass and rose from her chair. Vai watched curiously as she left the table.

"Hey, Ronovi, where're you go--"

Ronovi did not listen to him as she entered the "pit," pushing through the hordes of needy men, some of them screaming out credit offers. Her goal was to get to the front of the crowd, where the girl was, to get a closer look. If what her observations said, her Force senses said, were true, then there was going to be Hell to pay.

Even using a bit of the Force to push people aside, the Quaestor finally made it over, dodging one drunken man as he waved his half-empty glass and almost spilled some on the woman's dark coat. She was only a foot away from the young dancer now, almost breathing in her energy, tasting a kind of dirty taste. A disgusting taste.

The girl seemed to notice Ronovi as a smile curled on the dancer's lips and she bent toward the Templar as if to tease her. Whether acting seductive to men or women was her plan or not, Ronovi could feel the veins in her forehead swell at seeing the movement. She knew the girl could not recognize her, but by the Force, could Ronovi recognize her. Sixteen years old, and the scholarly side was being pushed aside for this whorish activity.

It was only when Ronovi finally spoke, her words harsh and grating against her throat as they hissed through her gritted teeth, that the dancer suddenly recognized her older sister.

"Sarit?"

As Oscar sat the volume throughout the club suddenly amplified. Alarmed he immediately leapt back up from his seat and inspected the device above the booth and then those above all the other booths in the BlasTech; the power light on each of them had been extinguished.

“What the hell?” He murmured nervously.

“Heh,” came a youthful voice from the booth adjacent his, “I wasn’t expecting that.”

The prospect of completing his trade now ruined, Oscar was determined to let out his frustrations on who he was sure was to blame. Storming to where he had heard the voice he grabbed what he thought to be a relatively young yridian by the collar and forcefully yanked him from his seat.

“What the hell did you do, Tattoo Boy?” The dealer screamed as his free hand slammed into the soft flesh of a face. He could smell the alcohol on his victim’s breath and mildly drunken protests spewed from a bloody mouth.

The yridian’s ubese companion shifted to come to his aid but he waved him away. “I’ve got this,” he gargled before another punch tore a gash in his lip.

Oscar huffed, swinging his prey so his back was lined up with the entrance to the nearby lavatory.

---

Windos stumbled backwards though the door to protests from a single occupied cubicle. He had played this drug dealer perfectly; claiming responsibly for the disabled security devices once Ji had accidentally deactivated every one of them rather than just the one, and exaggerating his drunken state.

Once the pair were inside the room Windos snapped out of his ploy and sprang to his feet, putting up a defense for the first time during the scuffle. He knocked two successive punches assign then latched onto the dealers shoulder, picked him up and launched him into the wall.

“You little punk!” Oscar snarled as his hand slid into his pocket while catching his breath. He subtly slipped on of the canisters of Glitterstim into the delivery system he carried incase a client needed a new one. He shielded it from sigh as he removed his hand from the pocket and lunged.

A device latched onto the arm that Windos raised to defend himself, narcotics coursed into his bloody stream. The Obelisk collapsed to the ground, his body convulsing.

Oscar wondered for a moment if his client had this same reaction but shook the thought from his mind, he had once regularly used Glitterstim and this had never happened to him. He kicked the tattooed yridian in the side the turned to leave the room.

A powerful wave in the air forced him against the wall along with everything else in the room, nailed down or not. The air in the room swirled violently, pieces of debris whipped around and beat the drug dealer to within an inch of his life.

---

The freighter sliced through the perpetual murk over Eden City. Radio signal flew through the air, demanding the ship return to orbit and make a controlled entry into the star port.

But still the ship came.

The planet pulled at the metal hull, inviting it towards the city, making it travel faster and faster.

And still the ship came.

It plummeted into the boundary between Districts III and IV, metal tore against metal and a gigantic gouge formed in the earth. Lives ended in the blink of an eye as fires started.

Alarms sounded, emergency facilities were called into action even before the ruined freighter finally exploded, taking District IV and most of the surrounding districts with it...

---

Windos shook his pounding head and scrambled to his feet, he looked at the damage around his and instantly knew what had happened; his connection to the Force had finally returned.

He saw his ubese companion standing at the open door, “We have to go, the others are in danger.”

“What happened?” Ji asked.

“I’m back and I’m sure I just glimpsed a terrible future.” He made his way o the exit with a characteristic limp he hadn’t carried since his old body had expired.

Through the door, Tier-Avis found himself in the lobby of a modest construction company. Its name, TechConst, was represented in huge glowing letters on the wall behind a large rectangular desk, at which a human receptionist sat. She looked up at Nami when he entered, but said nothing. The Kiffar’s stare and a little nudge from the Force stopped her question, unasked. She looked back down at her book, forgetting Nami’s presence. His questions about the police headquarters were now at the bottom of his priority list. The man trailing him was at the top.

Nami quickly surveyed the lobby, searching for a place to observe the front door unseen. The open hallway looking down on the lobby a story above him did not offer enough cover. The sparse furniture offered no concealment, but there were several corridors branching off from the entry area. Nami chose the one behind and to the right of the reception desk to hide in, peering around the corner, and waited for the door to open.

----------

The order to follow the young Kiffar had come down from the top of Jai’s organization. Jai had walked all the way from District VI to find him, but it had been easy. There were not that many Kiffar in the city. He had followed him easily, the Kiffar never sensing his presence. As he watched him enter TechConst, he knew the time to act was upon him. Feeling the heft of his modified Stokhli spray stick under his cloak, Jai followed the stranger into the building.

----------

Nami watched as a short green Rodian entered behind him, shifty eyes sweeping the lobby, searching for Nami, no doubt. Tier could see the shape of the Rodian’s weapon underneath his cloak, but couldn’t make out what it was. Whatever it was, Nami was not going to give the alien a chance to use it.

Turning and running down the hallway, he checked his own weapons, the blastsword in the scabbard at his hip and, ironically, two Rodian throwing razors in sheathes under his wrists. He also carried his training saber. Not a lethal weapon, but no way the average person could tell it from a real one. Down the hall he found a set of stairs leading up, and took them to the second story.

Carefully edging his way out the door at the top of the stairs, he reached out with the Force to find the Rodian, feeling him approaching the lobby desk, directly below him. He then heard the man start to speak.

“I’m looking for a Kiffar man that just came in here,” he said in thickly accented Basic. “Can you tell me which way he went?”

Nami had approached the railing, and looking down could see the exchange between the Rodian and the receptionist. The woman looked up at the Rodian as he approached. “I have seen no one enter all day, sir,” she replied. “You’re my first customer today.”

“I am no customer, lady,” the alien countered as he turned to again look at the lobby. The girl gave him a startled look, but soon gave it up and looked back to her book.

He seemed to be thinking his situation over, deciding which way to go. Nami made the decision for him, creating a small noise in the downstairs hallway he had come from. The Rodian spun on his heels toward the sound, his hand disappearing under his cloak to the weapon concealed there. Seeing nothing, of course, he removed his hand as he started tentatively towards the corridor the noise had come from.

Just as his pursuer passed underneath the overhang of the upper landing, Nami used the Force to “blind” the receptionist to her surroundings as he scaled the half-wall of the upper corridor, and leapt over it to the lobby below, landing softly behind the stalking Rodian.

----------

Jai was getting nervous. He knew the Kiffar had entered here. Why the girl had lied, he did not understand, but he would deal with her later.

He walked down the hall from which he had heard the strange noise. It had to be the Kiffar making those sounds. An amateur for sure, but Jai was taking no chances. He hadn’t seen anyone but the receptionist in the building. There were offices upstairs, but he would have seen anyone in the hallway up there.

Suddenly he became aware of someone behind him. Sure it was the Kiffar, Jai drew the Stokhli stick from his cloak as he turned quickly to confront him. He made it half-way when he was hit with what seemed to be a solid wall of air. He was thrown to the ground, the Stokhli slipping from his grasp, lying on the ground near the fingers on his outstretched hand. With a feeling of dread, he looked up at the cloaked figure and the object of his chase.

----------

Nami had caught the man by surprise, but just. Either way, he had gotten the drop on him by enough, whoever he was. Now he was in control.

The strange weapon the Rodian had concealed under his cloak was now just out of his reach. The alien made a quick move to retrieve it, but Nami drew it to him on waves of the Force. He slipped it under his own cloak, to give to his superiors when he met up with them again.

“Who are you, stranger, and what do you want with me?” queried Nami.

“I must apologize, but I am not at liberty to say,” replied the Rodian, smugly. Nami quickly wiped the grin off of the alien’s face.

Extending a gloved fist, the Rodian’s nose crunched inward, despite the distance between the two. With a shriek of pain, blood began to flow unimpeded down his chin.

Sure that the scream would draw attention, Nami displaced the light around the Rodian and himself, and, pushing open the nearest door, pulled the alien inside.

Nami found himself in a small room filled with an assortment of boxes. Filled with an assortment of random things, Tier was sure. Nami stood over the Rodian, now sitting up caring for his busted nose. “Care to rethink your response, Rodian?” asked Nami.

“Ok. Ok. Ok,” the alien replied thickly. “My name is Jai, and I work for Yula Kerney. Honestly, I’m nobody!”

“Well, then, Jai, why are you following me?”

“Yula herself told me to follow you. That’s all I know!”

Nami drew one of his Rodian throwing razors, inspecting the tip. “Then why do you carry a weapon, Jai? Hardly necessary if you’re only following me.”

Jai gulped audibly at the sight of the razor he was all too familiar with. The bleeding had slowed to a trickle now. “Well, I was to capture you if I could,” he confessed.

Nami leaned close over Jai, exuding all the menace he could. “And why, my bumbling Rodian?”

Jai eyes narrowed at that, but he continued. “I heard someone from over in District I hired her. To keep an eye on your delegation and to kidnap any of you she could, safely and discreetly.”

“Who hired her, Jai?” Nami asked, letting his cloak fall open and giving the alien a view of his lightsaber.

Jai eyes bulged in fear. “I promise, Jedi, I don’t know! I promise!”

Nami straightened and thought this over. It seemed someone in high places had an agenda that extended beyond welcoming the Dark Jedi with open arms. He was sure the summit would like this bit of information. He decided to let their enemies go on believing Cestus knew nothing of this alternative plot.

“Alright, Rodian. Settle down,” Nami said. “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do. I’m going to go my way, now, and you can go yours. You will tell Yula that you never found me. Reporting anything other than that would be a mistake, I assure you.”

He paused a second, letting the Rodian imagine the consequences of not heeding his advice.

“Don’t make me revisit this situation,” Nami finished, exiting the room through the door to the hallway. Several people at the end of the hall turned to face him as he walked toward them, but the look on his face made sure no one impeded his departure. He exited the building, and headed back to District I to report his encounter with the Rodian henchman.

With a little help from the Force, Ronovi was able to pull her sister toward her, seizing her by the arm as she pulled her off the stage. In the midst of the customers' confusion, she pushed her way through the crowds, dragging her sister behind her. At the sight of the Quaestor angrily forcing her way out of the club, her fellow Dark Jedi and soldiers were quick to follow her, as well as the bouncers.

"What do you think you're doing, lady?" demanded one bouncer as he stopped Ronovi by the door. "You're harassing an employee."

"Get out of my way," growled Ronovi. When the bouncer did not comply, she used the Force to shove him aside, ignoring the sound of his back slamming against the wall as he finished his flight through the air. In fact, she ignored pretty much everything but the grip she had on Sarit's arm, tightening if her sister made any attempt to move. Strangely enough, she was silent, as if the whole thing had stunned her.

Not for long. As soon as Ronovi had dragged her into the cold generated air of the district of sin and slammed her against the cracked, rough brick wall, her tongue began to flutter. "R-Ronovi? Is that you?"

"You recognized me, didn't you?"

"B-barely," Sarit was able to gurgle. While Sarit had not changed much in the way she spoke over the past three years, the sound of utter revulsion was apparent. "W-what happened to you? What have you been doing to yourself?"

"I think the question's more relevant concerning you," Ronovi replied. She did not tone down the harsh grating sound of her voice against her throat, didn't turn her head as Doni Tzu, Vai, and Welsh appeared behind her.

"Well, I think what I do is none of your business. What gives you the right to assault me like this? Are you quite mad?"

Sarit's reply was ended with a harsh yelp as Ronovi backhanded her, hard, across the face. The marks from her knuckles lingered as her sister, breathing shallowly, let her eyes caked with make-up look into the harsh blue casing of her older sister's artificial eye. She looked at the scars on her sister's jaw, the furrowed dark brows, the remaining human eye she had. It glowed like an angry ember in the evening light.

"Why aren't you at school?"

"Pardon me?" Sarit asked.

"You're supposed to be at school! Instead you're here, being a damn prostitute!" roared Ronovi. "The Hell are you thinking, Sarit? Do you want to hurt Mom and Dad? You think this will make them happy?"

Sarit stared at this, wiping her mouth with her arm that dripped with cheap jewelry. "Me? But aren't you the one who disappeared on us?"

"Stay on topic," snarled Ronovi, but Sarit was only smiling at this, continuing.

"Oh, but I think I am on topic. Besides, weren't you the one who decided to be a fighter, anyway? And now look at you. I knew that your lifestyle would only harm you."

"It's a job," snapped Ronovi.

"A job? You leave the family just for a job? I mean, our brother had to go join the military, Ronovi, but you -"

"I'm part of the Brotherhood now, Sarit," Ronovi whispered, and she watched as the shock pervaded her sister's eyes.

"...What?"

"What, you haven't noticed? I'm a Dark Jedi now."

There was silence between them for a moment. Ronovi could already sense a sort of disapproval from her fellow Dark Jedi, as if she had told a large governmental secret. But even if her sister disgraced her and her work made a mockery of her occupation, she was still dangerously honest with her. Now she saw Sarit staring her almost coolly now, blankly.

"Have you told anyone else?"

Ronovi inhaled. "Only Dad."

"And where are you now?"

"Tarentum."

"Oh, are you?" said Sarit, her eyebrows raised. "So why are you asking to know why I'm not in school anymore?"

"I..."

"You're ridiculous," muttered Sarit. "Completely and utterly ridiculous. A Dark Jedi, huh? Figures. You don't even know how you're affecting your own family. I'm doing this oh-so-horrible job because I need the money, Ronovi. Father can't afford to put me in school because of all the tax increases we've dealt with."

"You're lying."

"I wish. I'd still be in school, but the taxes are hurting the workers. I need to get by somehow. Just like you."

"You're a liar," Ronovi said, her chest rising and falling. She was too angry and humiliated by the sight of her sister to think too rationally. "Dad has more than enough money. Tarentum has done good for people like him. You're a dirty liar."

"That's enough, Ronovi," Doni Tzu softly spoke, startling the two as they turned to look at the enigmatic figure behind them. "Leave her alone."

Ronovi blinked. "But..."

"Her life should not be of any concern to you now."

Slowly, Ronovi released Sarit, letting her sink against the pavement, her scantily clad shoulders shaking from the cold. The Templar breathed sharply and nodded before turning to follow her entourage, but was stopped by her sister's voice.

"Why did you come here? Why do you still bother about me and our family?"

Ronovi turned slowly around to look at her sister again, whose kept her head lowered as the bitterness in her voice lingered in her ears. "I don't really know."

"You're a Dark Jedi now. You should be done with us. Done with everything about us."

Ronovi blinked, but she had to be honest. "I'm trying to do that."

"So your solution is to scream at me?"

"...I..."

Sarit laughed again, only it sounded weaker, more defeated. "The sooner you learn to leave us alone, the better."

Ronovi did not reply. It was one thing to see her sister parading around like a wench; it was another to see that her own personality hadn't changed. The well-rounded vowels, the formal language - they were all the same. That same scholarly girl was still there, just hidden under the guise of a crowd-pleaser, something Sarit had never thought she'd had to be. They stood silently as the silhouette of a ship passed over them, dimming the atmosphere as it passed. The tense, thick atmosphere.

It all only served to anger her, and she moved to hit her again.

---

"You cannot be serious."

Having had to deal with his fellow Cestian being clobbered by a non-Force sensitive was already irritating enough. Now Ji was glaring behind his helmet at Windos, who had led him all the way back to the starport. The Ubese wasn't a fool; he knew by the limp Windos now carried, an old part of the former Krath Archpriest had come back in some way. Now Windos was scanning the starport, arms crossed, as he explained what he had seen in his precognition and then revealed his plans.

"I'm definitely serious. We came here by one ship alone, so if we're going to be able to warn everyone of the upcoming disaster, we need a good vehicle to do it in."

"But stealing a ship? We're trying to end hostilities, not ramp them up," argued Ji.

"Well, aren't you a Light Jedi today," Windos said, arching an eyebrow comically at his companion. "C'mon, I'm sure some idiot has left us a freighter for us to grab. You're a pilot, aren't you?"

"And how do you expect us to man it?"

"Simple, just hijack the damn thing. I'm sure your mechanic's taught you a thing or two."

"Windos, I'm warning you, this isn't..."

"Do you want to get our house out of here or not?" demanded Windos as he headed off in the direction of where a light freighter was situated. Ji immediately recognized it as a VCX-350, a new addition since the Vong wars. Still, the whole idea of flying a freighter to save Cestus, let alone hijack one, was ridiculous. Unless they could catch everyone from a bird's eye view, they were flying blind.

Still, there wasn't much choice. If Windos's precognition were real, and perhaps pre-meditating the future, then they didn't know how much time they had. More questions about why a large freighter would crash land on Yridia IX plagued him, but now all he could do was follow his gut, even if he doubted where it was taking him.

With the strength from his new body alone, Windos forced the hatch to the freighter open and clambered inside with Ji following him. Immediately the Knight went to man the controls of the VCX, working to bypass any necessary data input or ignition to start the engine. Windos looked at him amusedly.

"You decided to do that rather quickly," he said as he moved to help man the controls. In the next minute, the VCX was up in the air zipping through air traffic as it wove its way towards the closest districts.

---

They were too late for any rescue mission now. Precognitions, erratic as they were, could serve as only possibilities, never clear on anything and especially not clear on time. They were not reliable elements to use, and how they had fooled and baffled the greatest warriors of the galaxy throughout history.

Windos and Ji, as they flew the freighter, were only bringing themselves closer to danger rather than attempting to avoid it. For as their vessel dipped into the harsh winds blowing in the city, the PCL-27 above them had already started its descent, pushing through air traffic in almost impossible movements. It had already begun its drop.

The sterile brightness of Eden's orbital mirrors dimmed a brief moment as the medium freighter passed overhead. Many of the Tarenti looked up, happy for the distraction from the somewhat embarrassing situation of the Cestus Quaestor's family drama. Such was its low altitude and high speed, however, that the passing shadow did not linger.

The wraith, Doni Tzu, was the first to squint his eyes slightly. He glanced back to Ronovi who was mid-swing through striking her sister again, perhaps thinking that she could beat sense into her, rather than out.

"Ronovi," he deadpanned, interrupting her backhand. She paused and turned, eyes still burning with anger.

"What is it? I'm busy!" she snarled.

The Dark Adept tilted his head to the side ever so slightly. "For reasons I am not able to discern, the number of possible futures for lifeforms in this immediate vicinity have shortened drastically. We may need to leave."

Welshman raised a finger, as if he had been holding something back. "Now that he mentions it, something does feel a bit strange..."

Ronovi released her sister, looking around for a sign of danger, though not seeing one immediately. Sarit slumped against the wall, putting a hand to her reddened cheek.

The confusion was interrupted by the scream of a trio of aerospace fighters roaring overhead, passing in the same direction that the looming shadow had just gone before. The security guards and Dusquen looked up again, curiously. The burning phosphorescent eyes of Doni Tzu closed for a moment in careful meditation as he sought out the source. The event was so close now, it took only a moment. His eyes shot open again, this time burning with urgency.

"There will be a starship crash. Your lives are in danger."

Ronovi looked to her former master, then to her sister. What options did they have? She looked back to Dusquen and her guards, who were looking to her for a decision, for leadership. She grabbed her sisters now-bruised wrist, again.

"Run!"

---

The massive, 800 meter container ship soared, glided over the rooftops of District IV. Almost noiselessly it descended on airspeed alone, its passage loudly announced by the civil defense aerospace fighters swarming around it, pleading for it to regain altitude. There wasn't much they could do in the way of force to stop it from its inevitable fate.

The first victims of the ship were communications antennas, spires, and other structures which jutted themselves into the night sky. Their location lights winked out as the unstoppable leviathan wrenched the structures apart, cleaving them in two. Sparks and electrical discharge erupted from their stunted remains sporadically.

Stunned bystanders looked up, uncomprehendingly, as the city-block sized object passed gracefully over their heads. None had ever seen such a thing, as there had been defenses built into city infrastructure since the invention of hyperdrive and repulsors to prevent such disasters from occurring. Most were oblivious to their imminent peril.

The vessel seemed to be trying to make for the main city building, the gleaming central spire that the Tarenti had been in but an hour before, though it clearly wasn't going to make it. As it continued to sheer off more and larger communications arrays and other flimsy, towering structures, its velocity continued to decrease. Almost to the edge of District III it had flown until it dropped like a runner who was out of breath.

The starship plowed through the first building, a government treasury, as if it were a thin snowbank. Permacrete, durasteel, and the myriad items which go into, and compose a building exploded into the air, raining down onto the streets below. Would that anyone in the area were not panicked with the prospect of imminent death to appreciate it, credits rained also.

Glowing bright blue, the engines of the container ship dimmed and disappeared into the hazy dust it left in its wake. Another building, a trade union, lent its woefully inadequate resisting force to the kinetic onslaught pushed upon it. The impacts were adding up, however, and while the kamikaze's velocity was decreasing, so was its structural integrity. A cascade of sparks flew from its nose, the grinding of metal on stone and metal shrieking awfully into the night sky.

The first sirens began to blare, plaintively echoing the futile despair of the citizens who were caught in the conflagration. The aerospace fighters too gave their own wail as they peeled away from the scene, hoping to escape with their lives. The shift of their howl into the baritone was an anticrescendo to the singular punctuation that was moments away from changing Eden City forever.

The doomed freighter could not take much more abuse. Building after building collapsed before the durasteel juggernaught, and each successive impact disrupted more and more of the freighter's sensitive electrical connections and vital engineering ductwork. Reactor heat was spiking, antimatter containment was loosening, and carefully orchestrated systems of organized high-energy chaos were dissolving.

Airspeeders sped away, people and aliens screamed or gurgled or oozed their primal screams, all in vain. Finally, the side of the cargo freighter impacted with a gleaming durasteel archway, a random public art exhibit. This particular structure was highly rigid by nature of its composition and firmly anchored; it did not yield as the previous structural victims of the PCL-27 did. The freighter spun to the left crazily and plowed keel-first into the ground, sending a tidal wave of streetscape into the air. Magnetic fields inside the ship loosened, strange matter which should not exist came into contact with matter that did, and all hell broke loose.

Those who survived the event and witnessed it would say that they would never forget it. A bright blue flash somewhere in the distance, and then... well, everyone knew what what "then", the aftermath, was.

An event normally, strangely peaceful in the dead of space, the explosion of a starship, was far more cataclysmic in a planetary atmosphere. Energies emitted as x-rays, gamma rays, thermal radiation, normally dissipated harmlessly into space, or were easily absorbed by shielding, to the extent that no one even noticed such things anymore. There might be a fireball, but as long as you were a fair distance away, it was nothing to worry about. Here, the energies interacted with the planet, feeding it, causing far more destruction than would normally occur in the inky blackness of space. Atmosphere, terrain, and the man made structures surrounding the starship all absorbed this energy and were forced by the laws of nature to dissipate it into the surroundings; a statement coldly calculated to diminish the fact that many of these "surroundings" were other living beings.

The PCL-27 blew itself apart in a spectacular nuclear inferno. The swath of destruction it had carved into the surface of Eden now seemed barely a scrape on a chalkboard compared to the titanic fireball which now blew a gaping wound into the heart of the city. Thousands were instantly vaporized by searing thermal radiation. X-rays and other high energy radiation bombarded their soft tissues, killing some instantly; those further away might only be scarred for life. The buildings of Eden itself were ripped from their foundations, disintegrated, and became gigantic projectiles, multi-ton bullets soaring aimlessly through the sky, to land haphazardly wherever the laws of physics deemed. All of this was carried, lifted gracefully by the shockwave which bounced off the surface of the planet in the blink of an eye and pushed its energy and its kinetic missiles out and away.

---

The Tarenti had barely crossed the street when they heard the unearthly din of buildings being shattered in the distance, debris crumbling to the street. The screams and the sirens were distant but audible.

Ronovi looked back towards the sound, her sister in tow, and saw Doni Tzu standing there, unmoved from his previous position.

"Doni! Let's go!" she screamed over the racket.

His pale yellow eyes turned to meet hers, and she heard his voice in her mind. "It is too late."

The Quaestor stood there for a moment, unbelieving. How could it all be over? Things can't end like this, they...

"There is a way," the raspy voice telepathically interrupted her train of thought.

Ronovi waved her arm at the fleeing Tarenti. "Back this way!" she ran to the middle of the street, the Adept slowly striding over to meet her. The other members of the team looked at each other, puzzled, but the trust that was inherent in their bond forced them to follow her.

When they were tightly gathered, the Adept spoke to them all again, with a sort of sighing resignation.

"We must Pay the Ferryman." Doni Tzu reached out with the force, grabbing a fleeing civilian off her feet and pulling the woman to them. The middle aged woman looked at them in uncomprehending fright, her big blue eyes showing nothing but fear.

"Kill her, quickly." The woman's scream was harshly interrupted by the sound of Welshman's lightsaber activating and promptly decapitating the innocent civilian. Ronovi's sister screamed, shrieked in terror.

Doni Tzu reached down to the cauterized neck, feeling its warmth through the steel on his fingers. With an imperceptible nod he stomped on the neck, sending a gush of blood onto the street. Sarit's shrieks intensified.

"What the hell are you doing, Doni?" Ronovi yelled, her good eye fixated in the distance where the rumbling was getting louder, and the aerospace fighters had turned and blasted into the sky, fully vertical, making for orbit.

The phantom gave no answer, using the tip of his boot to draw a circle on the pavement with the blood of the woman. Into the circle were smaller, arcane designs. In seconds the sigil was finished, albeit sloppily. The Adept wondered if the haunted madness he was about to call upon would punish him for the inferior sacrifice.

"You must all stand inside the circle. Do not step outside or reach outside of it. Things which hunger in the blackness will take you."

No one understood what that meant.

Doni Tzu sighed again. Fortunately, he did not think this ritual would have to be vocalized. That part was always dangerous. Who knew what would come from the void. He made a series of subtle, confusing, and geometric motions with his arms. He bowed his head, and projected his consciousness into the ether.
O Dweller in the Gulf, the toll is paid... I beg transit... O Mighty Lord of the Chasm'd Darkness, Possessor of a Thousand Faces, hear my call...

There was an unearthly, sloppy, wet, disgusting sound, and the blood on the street seemed to glisten brightly for just a moment. There was a blue flash in the distance. Ronovi could see the shockwave approaching, noiselessly. And then... all was darkness.

Those standing in the circle vanished into thin air.

The smooth burn of Corellian whiskey, complete with smoky aftertaste and glowing warmth was long gone. In its place the Battle Team Leader, Warlord and Admiral felt only anticipation and, unashamedly, some fear. For who amongst the living crossed the boundary between life and death and made the journey back? It was true that he, as a Necromancer of Tarentum, had often viewed the abyssal plane and bent its denizens to his will; he had, however, never physically entered the realm of the damned. Unlike the oxymoronic Eden whose reality was as far as possible from the connotations of its name as could be the dimension known as Oblivion struck the Warlord of deserving of its name: blacker than the vacuum of space the mere fabric of this existence seemed to drain the life of those who ventured within, accelerated entropy it seemed ruled supreme. However the seven were not alone.

Ethereal phantoms, mere nebulae of some unknown energy, drifted along unseen and unfelt currents. The tormented howl of untold billions hammered upon the ears of those gathered, huddled and bewildered within a circle of freshly spilt blood; blood spilt from an innocent by Welshman’s scarlet blade; blood that lent this damned plane of existence its only smell, the irony tang of spilt life coating the back of one’s throat in a unswollowable fuzz.

By now the septuplet had been living with the damned for many seconds and the intrusion had not been unnoticed. The ghouls closest circled the Tarenti, hungry for the life they had long since lost; for those of the Tarenti burned brightly with the vim of existence. For the poor wretched souls of the departed yearned for what they the Tarenti had. Their cries of desperation battered through the Force, harrowing those who could feel the arcane energies. Ronovi’s sister merely crumpled to the floor, eyes rolling to the back of her head and the colour draining from her face. Welshman’s fear however rapidly faded from mind. The opportunities this power could bestow!

Turning to face his fellow Necromancer Welshman could not but admire the naked power cascading from the Tarenti. Few people could have used this power to transport themselves; fewer still could shift a party of individuals. Welshman noticed an increased strain upon their ersatz ferryman. A closer look at their surroundings and Welshman had a theory, the number of angry, distraught and hate filled souls increased the longer they stayed in this realm. Newly killed and with a surprise borne of a sudden, violent death these ghosts desperately yearned for a return to existence and hovered near the place of their death. The resistance meted out by the emotional shades were increasing the power required to sustain them within safety.

Suddenly the Dark Side welled within the Quaestor. Anger, grief, terror, surprise and fear rose in a multifaceted tide and threatened to overwhelm the young Epicanthix. She chocked out two words:

“Mom… Dad…”

Two of the phantoms had drifted closer to the septuplet and these retained some vestigial form, the hollow shape of the newly dead and obviously still enough shape to be recognised.

“We should be safe now.” Doni voiced in a thin, quivering and cold as steel voice. The waves of blue energy returned engulfing those who had ventured were all would once enter but few would again leave. As the concentric rings of energy washed over the Tarenti the dark of Oblivion began to fade, replaced with a scene of mass destruction. Where only seconds before had stood buildings and people now lay chaos, the howl of a raging firestorm thundered somewhere to the south whilst the cries of those buried alive brought a pitiful quality to the destruction. The smell of charred flesh, burnt concrete, melted metal and the dangerous whiff of gas mixed in a heady cocktail and threatened to overwhelm those who yet lived. Sarit regained consciousness only to rapidly loose almost as quickly as her stomach lost its grip on its own vomit.

“We need to get moving. Find out what happened here and get ourselves out of this radiation hotzone. Orders Adept?” Welshman asked.

“Let me think…”

With all the chaos and destruction that had unfolded in most of the districts, especially those in the middle of the city, those closest to the starport were the least affected. It was almost a slap in the face for the common people; 25% of District III had been destroyed, while thousands had been killed. The projection of debris and nuclear shockwave itself had wiped out other district areas and killed thousands more. And up in Districts I and II, the damage was much more minimal.

Griffin had dodged a shower of glass as the shockwave alone shattered the windows of his office. The building rocked like an unstable tower, almost falling over like a deck of cards. Fine architecture, however, kept it mostly intact, as the governor dove under his desk and cowered under its shoddy shelter. Then, silence, as he rose and dusted himself off, his eyes flickering to the view.

The smoke was rising from what looked like ruins patched with wasteland. Whatever garden that Eden claimed to be was around was destroyed, its "flowers" wilting, its colors fading in dust and ashes. Burnt metal from fallen building rose like charred fingers, attempting to grasp at a sky that was unwelcoming to them, attempting to grasp the space above. An endless parade of iron and blood, both turning to rust.

The governor's shoulders shook as he put his face in his hands; he could not stare at the destruction for long. His city...his jewel...was wrecked. And while pieces were left, the thought of even rebuilding tormented him as he loosened his collar. The heat was rising in his face.

The doors to his office swung open as several aides rushed over the governor. While they all looked shaken, their main concern was Griffin, as they settled him into a chair. One offered him a glass of water, but with a shaking hand, Griffin waved him off.

"If you're gonna give me anything, make it strong," he murmured just as he saw a solemn looking Stanson Rend walk into the room, his eyes dim. "Rend, what happened? Who did this?"

Rend spoke thinly, dryly. "Governor...a freighter dropped from orbit...no one was able to stop it."

"Who are the bastards who did this to my city?!" roared Griffin. Knowing the situation was not enough for Griffin; he needed targets, and quickly. Rend continued his lower tone, his slow forming of words, as if to tease the governor.

"It would seem...that perhaps I was misled in saying such things about Tarentum earlier."

There was a heavy silence as the aides took in the news; one even began to weep as Griffin's fists clenched and unclenched, the blood in his veins changing the color of his face. In a sudden movement, he rose from his chair, storming out of the room while barking out orders that were almost incoherent. The aides followed like insects following their queen to the colony, marching, chittering in reply.

Rend smiled as he paced the now empty office. He knew that Tarentum could not have done this, but any sort of endangerment of their diplomacy could prove excellent in his own strive for power. After all, if recovery was necessary now and if tensions were to rise, there could be some economic, financial, or even military gain for him. He just needed the pin to drop first.

---

Nami had been lucky to survive the passing debris as he passed through District I. Its outskirt were almost tattered like the edges of a fine fabric, and he was still in a state of shock at the sight of the destruction overhead. What happened? he demanded to himself. Another question to plague him. The Journeyman sighed with irritation, knowing even then that he should try to do something.

In the midst of the fading fumes of the explosion, Nami let his Force senses attempt to pierce the fog that had settled. They did not go too far, only reaching the edges of Districts IV and III, and the only response he received was the anarchy. However, one ping on his Force "radar" interrupted him, as two faint voices crackled in his mind as if he were listening to a radio transmission.

Damn! Ji, land this thing! LAND IT!

You try landing it when we're engulfed in flames like this!

Okay, we just need to think...

Think? We're going to die thinking about it, Windos!

Ah, kriff...we gotta think of something...

Nami paused at this dialogue, trying to see if he could gather anything by sight alone. Sure enough, like a blazing spark in the distance, he saw a vessel spinning through the air. It seemed to have just pulled itself from the subsiding flames of the explosion, and now it spiraled in and out of his eyesight, dipping and rising in its small inferno.

If I can use the Force again...maybe...

The voices were beginning to fade as Nami attempted to think of ways to save them. But even if his still fleeting Force senses could bring him back this much, there wasn't much he could do in terms of a rescue. If Windos and Ji were in that burning ship, they were on their own.

Picking up speed, Nami directed his attention toward the other districts. The others had to be there, in one place or another. As he ran, he let the sense of chaos fold over him, directing his senses. The smoke that rose from both the fury of the ruins and the survivors permeated his nose and mind as the Kiffar raced through the streets.

---

Doni Tzu didn't have to think for long as he directed the group through any possible exits of the district. But Ronovi couldn't move. The images of her parents' spirits, hovering in Oblivion, stopped her, as she fell to her knees. Sarit was loudly sobbing on the ground, her tears mingling with the melted tar and her own vomit. The whole experience was not enough for a non-Force sensitive like her to handle with much ease. Now all Ronovi could do was stare blankly at the unending flames and beginning decay as the cries of the dying penetrated her ears.

They must have died instantly, in the explosion...consumed by the flames. Sarit's words echoed in Ronovi's head, to be done with them. Well, there it was. Her father and mother, dead. Gone. Crushed into Oblivion. Ronovi couldn't help screaming.

"Ronovi! Let's go! Now!" commanded Doni.

"I can't...!"

"Yes, you can." With a strong hand, Doni lifted a reluctant Ronovi by the crook of her arm, placing her on her feet. As the tears began to course down her cheeks, the Templar stared at her sister, a blur in her vision. Without even thinking, she offered a hand to Sarit, who brushed it away.

"Don't touch me...monster..."

"You need to come with us."

"Monster!"

"We're gonna fry if we don't get out of here!" Vai cried out as he dodged a wave of fire scorching the nearest building. Welshman had already taken the lead, directing Dusquen and the soldiers to the edges of the district.

Sarit raised her head, her face ravaged by the terror and grief that almost scarred her young face. Her fingers intertwined with Ronovi's. They both were crying. Doni Tzu watched it all with a sense of urgency, almost finding it frivolous. Ronovi still needed to learn; her parents' death would serve as another step full-on into the darkness.

Without a word, the three raced away from the inferno, escaping what seemed like the fires of Hell. Even as they ran, the cries would not dwindle. The aftermath had just begun.

Tier-Avis Nami raced through the streets of District I towards the relatively more chaotic District IV, in the direction that the flaming freighter Ji and Windos were piloting had disappeared. He didn’t know where the rest of his housemates were, but maybe he could help those two out of whatever mess they had landed themselves in, if they had even survived. As he passed into District IV, the question finally dawned on him:

What the hell were those two doing in a freighter anyway?

A question and answer for another time.

Nami raced past dead, broken bodies and battered residents who reached out and called upon him for help, never even slowing. He let his Force power radiate from him, searching the rubble and smoky air for his fellow Cestians. He sped blindly through the streets, eyes and ears open for any sign of the crashed freighter, just in case he missed sensing the presence of Ji and Windos, or couldn’t because they were already dead.

Despite all his searching, physically and extrasensory, the freighter was nowhere to be found. He opened himself telepathically and strained his new abilities to be heard across the vast cityscape.

JI! WINDOS! ANSWER ME! WHERE ARE YOU!

………….

Nami’s cry was answered by silence to counter the sound raging around him.

Deciding there was only one thing to do, Nami set to sprinting once again, pushing his burning legs and lungs as he searched for the missing Cestians. A few steps into his run, a voice inside his head brought him to an abrupt halt. It was a voice he recognized, though it was neither Ji’s nor Windos’. It was Ronovi’s voice.

Nami, are you safe?

Ronovi! I am, but I fear Ji and Windos are not. Is everyone else OK?

We are alright…..

Guardian. For now…..

Please help…..

Ji and Windos…..

if you can.

Ronovi’s disjointed communication belied her assertion that they were alright, but he was forced to take her word for it. Once again he sped off in search of the freighter.

And once again stopped after only a couple steps. There, in the middle of the road he was headed down, sat the freighter he had been searching for, small fires dotting its surface and smoke making the air above it oily black. Somehow, Ji or Windos had found a place to set it down, though not without considerable damage to both the streetscape and the freighter itself. Nami let the Force crawl over and through the wreckage, feeling the presence of two individuals. Living individuals. Nami beat a path towards the smoldering freighter.

Carefully skirting the flames from the ship and picking his way over the ravaged street, he made his way around to the front of the VCX-350 and the pilothouse located on its nose. The front of the ship had taken serious damage, the pilothouse crumpled in onto itself, the smashed and twisted metal reaching the legs of the two men strapped into the pilots’ seats. Ji and Windos.

Neither man was moving. The crash landing must have knocked them unconscious. Nami took control of the Force and attempted to pull the metal back from the men’s feet, but the tactic was met with failure. He was not strong enough. He would need to enter the ship and pull the men out to safety.

Nami pulled the aft access door open and climbed aboard. The ship was filled with smoke and fire, threatening the pilothouse itself. Pulling the auxiliary air supply from his belt, he made his way forward to the Cestians trapped inside. A push from the Force knocked down the door separating cargo area from pilothouse, and Nami made his way inside.

The controls of the VCX-350 sparked and sizzled from the damage the ship had taken as Nami cautiously made him way into the cockpit. Flashing lights on one of the systems alerted the Kiffar he needed to move fast; this ship was going to explode soon and he didn’t want to be in it when that happened. Overhead supports had collapsed which led atmosphere into the smoke filled room.

From a corner, Nami heard a cough. Searching for the sign of life, he made his way through wreckage to find Ji and Windos with their backs against a charred wall.

“Ji, Windos..are you both alright” said Nami as he rushed up next to them. Looking at the conditions of the cockpit, the Kiffar wondered how they had survived the impact. Windos must have erected a force barrier to protect himself and the Ubese from harm. Nami knew he needed to get them out of the ship and meet up with the other Cestians so they could get out of the city.

--

Tears streamed down the soiled faces of the sisters as they looked at each other. Sarit’s look of hate against her sister didn’t help to alleviate the tensions that we already soaring with the recent events. Ronovi knew she needed to get back in control of her emotions and lead her members out of this situation, however as she turned a corner she was overcome by emotion as she looked down the swath of burning & crumbled structures that led like I path towards the southern edge of District III. Sarit screamed and collapsed to her knee’s are she looked at what was left of the area that was once her home.

“We need to keep moving” said the ethereal form of the Dark Adept as he kept moving toward District I.

Vai could sense it, his experiences let him knowledge as he said “there are powers at work here and will be destroyed if we don’t leave this city.”

Picking up Ronovi’s sobbing sister, Vai flipped her on his back and turned toward the Quaestor and screamed “we need to go now!”

Sarit squirmed in Vai’s arms, however the Aedile knew this was the only way as he placed his hand on the Epicanthix’s back and channeled the force through her and rendered the young women unconscious.

“I know your suffering, I know its hard to keep going but you must, we need you to be strong Ronovi. You are the leader of House Cestus, now lead us” said Vai in a very serious tone.

Drying her eye, Ronovi looked forward and nodded to her Aedile as she walked up next to her former master.

“Lets go Cestus, we need to find Ji, Nami and Windos and then get out of here” said the Quaestor in a commanding voice.

--

“Find those Tarenti..” howled out Griffin as he looked at a projection map in the situation center of the damage done while getting reports from his aides.

“How bad is the damage?” called out Griffin, as his skin boiling.

“District I, 4% destroyed, minimal losses” said one of the aides.

Another aide spoke up “District II, 10% destroyed with moderate loss of military personnel.”

Griffin walked over to a chair and sat down as he listened to the reports. The damage was bad, however most of populated areas seemed in decent shape. Point to the aide for District III, an old man, he asked for the status report.

Fear had gripped the face of the aide as he looked at the report and then said “25% destroyed with heavy causalities, including my residence” who then gripped his chest and fell to his knee’s collapsing.

The other aides rushed to their fellow aide’s side, but it was took late as the man had a heart attack from the strain and died.

Griffin’s face flushed pale as he watched the body of one of his closest aide’s being carried from the room. Fear would take over the city, fear and then anger of the citizen’s who would want answers, but what could he give them thought Griffin.

As the district IV report was being presented a man walked into the situation room and headed towards Stanson Rend.

In the back of the room Rend grinned at the developments and the opportunity. So much power was meant to be had as he helps the governor through these times and most importantly the Tarenti would no longer be in position to demand anything and would grovel at his feet. Turning to face the burning city, Rend smiled as one of his associates approached.

“We’ve found them in District IV, enroute to District I” whispered one of the syndicate members in regards to the Tarenti.

Rend smiled and said slyly “excellent, I will deliver the news to the Governor, he will be quite pleased.”

In the midst of the freighter's flames, Nami could see the fire eating away at the walls of the cockpit. He knew he was not strong enough to help both of them, but to his luck, he could see Ji beginning to stir, his helmet split open as he pulled himself up.

"Ji! We gotta get out of here before it's too late!" barked Nami as he dodged a spray of fire. He coughed as he moved to lift Windos hup, who seemed to have been severely exhausted by erecting his Force barrier...that is, if that's what he did at all.

Dodging the smoke and hellish torrents, Nami half-carried, half-dragged Windos through the ship, picking up speed as the freighter seemed to slowly crumble as its walls practically turned to ash. Ji led the way to the open hatch, and it was as if the three were jumping through a ring of fire. They met the cold air of the generated atmosphere as they met the pavement, staggering from the burning hull as they collapsed to the ground.

Nami could already smell singed hair and burned flesh and he quickly pried into his scarce Force healing skills, and slowly the welts began to heal on his hands. He then moved to Windos and Ji, attempting to administer healing to them as much as he could. He decided, as he heped Windos back to his feet, that all he could do was bring Ji and him back to the starport and bring the Magnus Kaerner down to retrive them. He decided that entering the port from District II would be best, avoiding any possibility of another "assassin" trying to seek him out.

The sound of Ji clearing his throat distracted Nami from his thoughts as he saw the Ubese limp toward him. He could sense the disappointment in a failed rescue, but he would soon let the two know that the others were okay. As both helped Windos walk, the three began their long trip to the port, breathing in the cool air the whole way as they wandered through the ruins.

---

"So these are the best you have, Governor?"

This was the question uttered by an aide as Stanson Rend sllently watched the medium-sized group of mercenaries lined up in front of Griffin. It appeared that Griffin was putting his vast money supply to the use that Rend had hoped, spending it on the finest fighters to counter the targeted Tarenti. And most of them Mandalorian, no less, with a few human exceptions. The only female mercenary, having heard back from her Rodian crony (the one who called her "Yula Kerney" - how she loved her fake names) stared at the aide almost menacingly as the governor nodded at the comment.

"The best to offer." Then, looking at the Mandalorians, somber behind their helmets, Griffin said, "You know the drill. If you can't arrest them, kill them. You guys have dealt with Jedi before. You can handle this, too."

"Can? We will handle it," one Mandalorian, Kerr Jethro, replied, nodding his head as he looked at his fellow mercenaries. The team shouldered their weapons as they waited for the governor's final orders.

"The four Dark Jedi in question are heading toward District I, unless they are distracted. I strongly advise separating them to make them less of a threat. It would make things easier for you as well."

He was interrupted by one aide rushing into the room, out of breath. "Sir, we have just received word that the four Dark Jedi are on the edge of the city. They have their military personnel - and what looks like a young girl."

"A hostage, perhaps," Griffin muttered, then said to the team, "Do what you know best."

In unison, the mercenaries strode out of the room toward their objective, knowing the reward they'd get in the end. The governor nodded to his aides, a sign that he wished to be left alone, as they filed out of the office and closed the door behind him. He was moving to his desk when Rend broke the silence.

"So you mean to inflict conflict upon Tarentum."

"They are responsible for destroying our city, just as you said," Griffin snarled as he reclined in his chair. "They must be punished for the Yridian people. I will have it no other way."

"I never said they did it, Eduardo," replied Rend, and his words clearly confused the governor. "I said perhaps I was misled. That is all."

"But...but you said..."

"I may not approve of mass destruction, Eduardo," said Rend slowly, "but I also do not condone treason."

There was a tense silence as Griffin stared in shock at Rend, and he didn't notice the latter's right hand disappearing into his sleeve.

"I don't understand! You're not going to..."

"I am an ally of Clan Tarentum," said Rend. "Clearly you know that."

"But Stanson! The city!" choked Griffin.

"And anyone who betrays the clan must be removed." As he said this, Rend let a flash of metal appear for Griffin to see.

"What? ...No. NO!"

As Griffin screamed, a hot bolt from Rend's hold-out blaster struck him in the kneecap. He stumbled from his chair, shaking as the head of the criminal family approached him, the weapon shining in his fist.

"I'll make you a deal, Eduardo. You are no longer fit to be Governor. Therefore, in accordance to Tarentum policies, you have a choice. You may leave the vicinity, and the Yridian system, or you may die. Which would you prefer?"

"You wouldn't!" growled Griffin, but the glint of the blaster said otherwise.

"If I kill you, I will be sure to contact Tarentum about this...unfortunate assassination by an angry survivor."

Griffin's mouth opened and closed as he gaped up at Rend, and Rend smiled. This was exactly what he wanted, to see the Governor slip up. By tempting him with the possibility of Tarentum's attack, he left the governor open to his weaknesses. And now he would get his reward for it. Now Rend watched as Griffin gritted his teeth, the smoke still rising and curling from the cauterized wound in his knee.

"You may get rid of me," he growled, "but I will come back. Eden is, and will always be, my jewel. And don't you forget that."

"I'll make a memo about it," replied Rend coolly as he snapped his fingers. In an instant two men in dark attire waltzed into the office, seizing the injured ex-governor under the arms and pulling him to his feet.

"My men will escort you to a private ship, where you will be transported out of the Yridian system. I'm sure you'll find a suitable political position in Coruscant, provided that you won't meet up with any enemies."

Griffin said nothing as the men dragged him out of his office, and Rend smiled before adding, "Oh, and governor? Be sure to get a cane for that leg, I don't think you'll walk very well after this."

The doors slammed before Griffin could reply, and Rend laughed as he sat at the desk, resting the blaster on the wood as he reclined in his seat. He wasn't worried about anything; recovery would be slow, but possible, and the population's protests could be stifled easily. As for the mercenaries, they were strong, but not strong enough. The Dark Jedi had shown power at the meeting, especially the one who had blinded one of the aides. And now that Griffin was out of the picture, things would be much smoother for Tarentum...and certainly more favorable for Rend.

Moving to the datapad on his desk, he dialed a number in. In the next moment, an aide walked in, confused to see the dapper gentleman at the governor's desk, his smile smooth under his trimmed beard.

"Sir?"

"See if you can make contact with our ally, Tarentum. We're in need of a new, more competent governor."

---

District I was strangely calmer than District IV, and not just because of the lesser damage. People seemed not to notice, only blinking at the minimal destruction as if it were any ordinary accident. Such was the way of the rich, Ronovi thought, as she winced at the constant reminder of seeing her parents in the deep realm of Oblivion. Her sister lay unconscious against Vai's shoulders.

The group was silent as they maneuvered, and Ronovi was beginning to sense that they all knew something more. Something that they weren't even seeming to mention. Yes, the Epicanthix had been distracted by seeing her parents' spirits, but something else had caught her eye as they wandered in the planes of the dead. It was not quite tangible, not quite humanoid to the sight, but it had amplified her Force senses as if it were a disturbance. As if she had seen an enemy, old or new.

And according to what she sensed from the others, they had sensed the same thing.

The beeping of a comm distracted Ronovi as she watched Welshman retrieve the still working device from his belt. He spoke into it sharply, using as few words as needed. "Welshman here."

"Commander, this is the Magnus Kaerner. We have witnessed the current events on Yridia IX. Do you need assistance?"

"I think we're all okay," replied Welshman, "'cept maybe a few of us."

"We have just brought in two of your house members. Windos and Ji. Both are injured, but they should hold up."

"And the crash site? Any information on that?"

"Affirmative. We have just sent in agents as part of the civilian intel to the crime scene. Case officers will be waiting to show you around the site. We have found no physical evidence yet, but there is a theory that this was no ordinary freighter crash."

"Then what was it?" demanded Welshman.

"Case officers will explain everything to you when you get to District III. Magnus Kaerner out."

"I don't think we'll be going there without some hassle," Vai suddenly interjected as Welshman turned off his comm. Still, the group looked into the distance. District III was waiting.

The Tarenti Elder followed his clansmen as they made a frustrating about-face and turned for District III. His thoughts were preoccupied on the brief transition the small group had made to Oblivion to evade the annihilating overpressure wave of the freighter's explosion. As one who was no longer technically alive, he was permitted free transit to and from the realm; bringing others was much more difficult, and dangerous. Still, they had only been there for a moment.

A moment enough to see the horrible things that drift in the realm of the Twilight Void.

Although... Doni Tzu mentally shrugged. Horrible things were expected in this Outer Sphere. He had seen so much of the horrible that they had become normal. The desensitization is what caused him to see the oddity in the first place.

The Void itself was an antithesis to the natural world. Where death is a cause for sorrow and warrants much notice in life, so it was the opposite in death. As a dead man in a traffic accident gathers spectators, so does life gather spectators in Oblivion. In their tiny circle the damned had pressed in, eagerly, hungrily seeking the life which had intruded upon their world, like moths to a flame.

The echoes of his boots falling against the concrete hardly registered in the Adept's mind as he watched the calves of Ronovi's legs while she walked. The great fires in the distance were of no concern; long ago had the gawking spectators who leered at his not-quite-here appearance lost any of his concern. Throngs of civilians fled in panic, and the Tarenti were a group powering against the tide of a powerful river, heading back into the disaster rather than away.

There was one oddity in the Realm of Darkness that he saw which did not approach mindlessly as did the rest of them, it simply observed. The empty face and hollow eyes were wrought with malice and yet it did not take any action; did not call upon the loathsome and mind-breaking Things which haunted and hungered in the Abyss (who were not to be named, being beyond description.)

In his traverses of Oblivion, the Twilight Realm, the Void, the Abyss, and the hundred other names to which it was addressed in a hundred other languages, he had never seen such an entity before. It was... a concern.

"... we have you surrounded." A deep, ragged voice called out of the darkness.

Doni Tzu looked up and over Ronovi's shoulder. From the alleys and urban shadows of Eden a number of military types had emerged. Well, so much for being distracted, he mused.

The group of Dark Jedi stopped, their hands cautiously going for their weapons, a move stayed by the equally threatening response of the mercenaries who levelled their weapons, signifying their willingness to use them. Their leader was forward, doing the talking. Easily recognized as a Mandalorian, from his armor. There weren't that many of those any more, the Elder speculated. That either meant he was good at hiding or good at living. He was also leading from the front, which meant that he knew how to lead. Some of his men were forward, others were behind cover. Another smart move, the Adept noted. Couldn't get them all in one strike.

Almost too bad that he would have to die here on this nameless rock.

"I have orders to place you all under arrest and bring you before the Governor," Jethro commanded, the small of his hand wresting on the powerful blaster carbine holstered at his side.

Ronovi couldn't believe her ears, and stepped forward as the symbolic leader of the group. "On what charges?" she shot back skeptically, sizing up her opponent. Behind her, Vai looked around for a way out, as he was in no position to engage in combat, at least not with an unconscious adult Epicanthrix over his shoulder.

"Mass destruction, treason, you know, those sorts of things," the Mandalorian gestured back towards the huge fire in the distance with his free thumb.

"That's ridiculous, we had nothing to do with this!" Ronovi exclaimed in disbelief, looking around her at the other mercenaries for some sign of discontent with their commanders assertion, or at least some sign of weakness. Nothing immediately presented itself.

The next thing Ronovi heard was the frustrated growl of her former master behind her, a sort of grating electronic hiss.

"We don't have time for this idiocy!" the Elder shouted, and made an upward sweeping gesture with his right arm.

To the disbelief of their owners, the mercenaries who surrounded the group of Dark Jedi now found their weapons pointed to their nearest comrade instead of their would-be arrestees. The motley group struggled to control their limbs, their weapons shaking in their hands. The Mandalorians were too strong willed to be susceptible to such mass persuasion, though, and held their ground, although stepping back defensively. They all knew from years of experience that to engage in melee combat with a Jedi was suicide. This one, however, was not like ones they had seen before, and rarely had the Mandalors engaged in combat with the users of the dark side.

Normally this would be the time for some negotiation as well, but the half-transparent Elder would have none of it. As he strode towards Jethro, he made a slight gesture of pulling a trigger, and instantly the scene erupted in chaos. Five of the twelve mercs dropped dead, shot by their own comrades. Some of the rounds missed, a fact which could only be explained by the sheer willpower of those under persuasion to regain control of their weapons. No matter.

Vai hit the deck, along with the unconscious Sarit, as blaster bolts erupted from the six remaining mercs who surrounded the Tarenti. Welshman and Ronovis' lightsabers snap-hissed into life instantly, illuminating their surroundings with their own peculiar radiant hues. Automatic blaster fire ricocheted and whined off the blades, some sailing into the night sky, others back at their owners or into the walls of surrounding buildings. The din was terrible and the smell of ozone wafted into the arena of death.

Doni Tzu was still striding purposefully forward towards Jethro, who was backpedalling just as quickly, his heavy blaster carbine having risen long ago and spitting orange death at supersonic speeds at the Dark Adept. The futility took a few moments to grasp as ten, then twenty bolts singed into the being's twinkling purple robes, and had no apparent affect. The burning yellow eyes narrowed and were getting closer.

Jethro could not tolerate the distance and activated his rocket pack, sailing back into the air at an ascendant angle. He lowered his left forearm and prepard to fire a rocket when suddenly gravity seemed to become much stronger - impossibly stronger. He crashed back to earth in front of the Adept and his outstretched hand.

Ronovi was concerned. Her former master was very close to the Mandalorian when she looked back at him, between deflecting blaster bolts. Two of the mercs had been killed by reflected rounds of their own weapons and the fire of the others was noticeably slacking as they lost their edge. From behind the Obelisk could see nothing as Jethro and Doni came face to face. They just seemed to stand there, looking at each other, within a handshakes distance.

The Elder paused for a moment and they seemed to regard each other. Behind him the other mercenaries saw their commander cease to fight and took the opportunity to run for their lives, disappearing with speed into the blackness of night and anonymity.

"Doni!" Ronovi called out to him, still very concerned.

Her former master half-turned back to the group and gestured with a hand. "Let's go." he stepped around the Mandalor and continued.

"What about him?" Ronovi queried as the group jogged to catch up, eyeing the mercenary warily, although he just seemed to stand there like a deactivated droid.

Her answer came a moment later when the man took off his helmet quietly, his eyes staring out into infinity, and smiled at her as she passed. She turned and walked backwards, cautiously, and the smile was still on the Mandalor's face as he calmly raised his blaster and with a final loud report scattered his brains into the orange glow of Eden's night sky.

She ran. She ran from the smoking brain matter that lay strewn about the road, the man's distorted features already seeming to rot in the generated starlight of the planet. Ronovi could feel her heart slamming into her chest as if hands were slamming a head against the wall. Slamming a sister's head against the wall.

As she caught up with the rest of her comrades, Ronovi had to restrain herself from vomiting. If this Mandalorian had any allies, they may have Hell to pay later. But before she could empty her stomach of whiskey and other contents, she saw another silhouette racing toward the group in the distance.

"Hey! Hey, wait!"

"Nami!" Ronovi cried as the Kiffar rushed up to the group, shoulders heaving as his training saber hung from one hand and a blaster from his other.

"What are you doing here?" demanded Welsh. "I thought you were with Windos and Ji on the Kaerner."

"No, I just got a transport sent down for them and came back here," Nami panted. "Did you guys fight anybody? I saw what looked like mercenary types race by me. One tried to get a shot at me, so I tried threatening them first and killing them later."

"And you resorted to the killing?" Vai asked, and Nami chuckled.

"Just one who really didn't get it. But it looks like I was right about mercenaries trying to get us." And he went on to explain what he had faced in District II, only to get a dismissive gesture from Doni.

"We don't have time for that now. We must get to District III. It seems that some Tarentum intel are waiting for us."

And without a word, he led the way, as the group moved toward their destination, waiting for the anarchy to swallow them back up.

---

The smoldering pit where the freighter had met its fate awaited the group as they hurried from their arranged battlefield. The major and soldiers had not done much in this latest encounter, only supplying defense in bolts when needed, and now stood on their guard as they wove their way through ruin after ruin. The blackened, spiral curls of buildings' framework rose up from the rubble, attempting to pierce the sky in their cold awakening. District III was quieter than most, the worker's home now a home of desolation. Eden officers were most likely elsewhere, dealing with any survivors in other parts of the districts or outside of the district altogether.

Ronovi noticed immediately after approaching the large gash in the planet's surface that men and women alike were scattered about the scene, some holding datapads and others appearing to scavenge the area for evidence. Two men were approaching, most likely case officers, and nodded to the group.

"Tarenti, good to have you here," one of the case officers said. "Our agents are busy here, though unfortunately we haven't found too much."

"But what have you found?" asked Welshman.

"Hem, well, we just spoke with one of the pilots of an aerospace defense fighter, who was moving around Yridia IX at the time," replied the second case officer. "Name was Drake Klevan, last we checked, and he had some interesting information. According to his scanning of the freighter as it passed through Yridia IX's atmosphere...he detected no pilot controlling it."

Ronovi's eyebrows shot up. "You're kidding."

"Nope. That's what he got in the system." The case officer then gestured over to the site, where agents were moving about almost incognitio. To the outside world, they would seem like police or security. Instead, the case officers watched over them steadily, to make sure they were doing the work.

"You see how the earth was kicked up in the freighter's landing?" the case officer asked. "A typical drop of a freighter losing power or accidentally fallng leaves an imprint, but the impact implies sheer speed and force into the ground. So in the end, we're beginning to believe that the freighter was crashed on purpose."

"You mean..."

"We mean that this was an assassination attempt," the second case officer said. "Someone knew you were here, and they tried to kill you."

At the sound of the news, Ronovi heard an audible noise from behind her. In the next moment, an awake Sarit was slipping off of Vai's back, stumbling to her feet. Her eyes seemed hollow as she stared at the group.

"Excuse me," one case officer said, "but who is that?"

Vai stared at Ronovi almost helplessly; he had put the girl into unconsciousness, but it was always set to fade off after a while. She looked at the members of her group, who only stared back at her, waiting for her to do something. Something she didn't want to imagine. She turned slowly to face Sarit.

"You guys go ahead and discuss this with the case officers. Then we should communicate with the Magnus Kaerner and see that we can get out of here."

"And the governor? What about him?" asked Doni.

"Once we get into orbit, we'll contact the clan summit and see to it that he is removed," replied Ronovi. If he hadn't been removed by some other force already. "Tarentum may tolerate threats, but they do not condone an outright strike."

And with that, she took Sarit by the crook of her arm and led her out of the vicinity, disappearing into a midst of debris and fallen architecture. One of the case officers frowned as he looked at the group.

"What's that all about?" he asked, and Welshman smiled.

"It seems," he replied, "that our Quaestor is taking care of a problem."

---

In the shadow of a crumbling building, Ronovi let her gaze fall upon her sister as she let her arm go, watching her stand there as if in a face-off. The two now orphaned women stood silently for a while, their eyes dark, hair blowing in the wind. Night was creeping about them like an unwelcome guest; yet the darkness was comforting. Ronovi let her hand fall to her side.

"You should forget whatever you heard from those men."

Sarit laughed harshly at this, coldly. "You really expect me to listen to you now? You, the unintentional murderer of your own parents?"

Ronovi blinked, her teeth clenching. "I didn't kill Mom and Dad."

"If that man is right, that freighter crashed here in an attempt to kill you and your clanmates," replied Sarit. "If anything, you're at least partially responsible."

"So what are you going to do?" asked Ronovi. The words came out coolly, softly, almost daring Sarit to reply.

"That is none of your business."

"I'd hate to see you tattle, y'know. Like a child. You gonna tell anybody? Maybe the government officials? Huh? Are you gonna tell anybody?" In response to Sarit's silence, the Templar got up to her face, snarling. "Damn it, answer me."

"And what will you do if I do tell?" came the soft reply. "Get rid of me?"

At this, Ronovi snatched Sarit again, pulling her toward her, letting her breath into her face. The tension was heavy, imposing on both their brows, and Ronovi almost let her anger control the Force within her. At the same time, she could see the error of not letting it do so. Sarit could pose a threat, and if Force ability traveled in her family...

As she thought, her grip slackened. Sarit fell to the ground, staggering away. Ronovi stared at her blankly, emotionlessly, almost.

"Get out of here. If I see you ever again, I'll make you pay."

Sarit's mouth opened slowly. "Sister..."

"Go!"

Sarit did not run. She did not even attempt to move away quickly. She could only look at her sister, corrupted in her eyes. Barbaric. A killer. And what she did not know is that Ronovi could sense the vengeance growing, even as she finally turned and began to walk. And as she went, the aura about her was one of betrayal. She would tell someone about the Dark Jedi's involvement. She would shout it to the skies is she could. And because of this, she was a threat that should be taken care of. A risk that should be put to rest. A danger to be removed.

And Ronovi was letting her walk away...

In a lightning-like movement, the Templar ripped her saber from her belt, letting the amber blade roar to life as she ignited it. She could see her sister in her line of vision, turning into a blur as the Dark Jedi moved, her blade moving into a beautiful, sweeping arc, before cutting deep into Sarit's flesh, splitting the sinews before Sarit could even react.

Ronovi watched, frozen in her final stance, as the head of her sister spun into the air before landing beside its body, crumpled to a heap. Wide-eyed, mouth half open, her stone face already losing its color.

The Quaestor breathed. The blade of her saber disappeared with a hiss. A killer retreating to its shelter. And then...silence.

---

As Doni Tzu strolled about the crash site with agents and case officers alike, he found himself more and more delving back into the thoughts of Oblivion. The idea of no pilot and still the thought of an assassination attempt stirred him and almost riled him. This could not be as simple as people thought. And with what he had seen...he could not ponder it easily. But it was what he breathed, ate, and drank these days. Death. Destruction. Residue.

He turned to the sound of slow steps echoing in the wind tunnel of the ruined part of the district. Reluctant, but harsh steps, as the shadow of his former apprentice emerged. Her eyes were downcast, her mouth drawn in a thin line, the night breeze tousling her dark hair. Alone. She walked alone.

As Doni Tzu heard the crackle of Welshman's comm as he directed for a transport from the Magnus Kaerner, his eyes did not wander from Ronovi. All he could do was watch the young woman, the silver hilt of her Jedi trophy clutched in her fist. And it was then that he knew what had happened.

The group was resigned as Ronovi finally mingled with them, silent but giving cracked smiles to those who looked at her. The torment was still within her, bubbling and frothing like foam. And Doni Tzu said nothing.

It's about time she was ending her clinging to her past life, he thought to himself, as he heard the hum of engines above them and the silhouette of a ship emerging in the haze of the Yridian night.