Fiction Archives

Pillars of Menat pt.1

Menat Ombo– 35 ABY


Little more than a few months had passed since the last shots of the war were fired over Menat Ombo and the city still resembled a warzone. The people had strived to rebuild their small hovel shacks while others worked amidst the rubble of nascent building projects which had resembled the hollow half dead tree stumps of the surrounding countryside.

Although most of all the bodies had been found a massive graveyard had been dug up outside of the city accompanied by smaller auxiliary pits awaiting undiscovered remains. A thick sweet staunch odor from the decay hugged the air throughout the city; a constant reminder of the current situation.

The stranglehold of death was however broken when life breathed its breath on Harakoa. The fields burnt by the onslaught of the war had now recovered yielding impressive crops for which invigorated the economy of the city. The Marketplace boomed with activity and once again became the primary forum. Small shops and businesses had replaced the ones lost in the war; they sold everything from food, general merchandise, to the rarest Clan Ordo helmet found in a field somewhere.

Life was returning.



Visulu Marketplace–

A lone voice broke through the usual calm of the marketplace sparking interest from the common passersby. The figure projected himself first from his companions to the tedium of eyes now upon him.

“I know your anger and your pain. Where were they? Where were they when they killed your brothers and sisters? Where were they when your homes were burnt to the ground? And when they burned your farms, where were they when they defiled our planet?”

The man backed up as a handful of people clamored forward to hear what he had to say.

“They are sworn to protect us, and serve us, not live in the Abbey as would Emperors! You are all guilty of making them your kings!”

The crazed figure spat and snarled as he spoke pointing his finger in every direction at the growing crowd. The people booed at him in response.

He raised a hand and bowed his head, silence spread

“…I am guilty, I admit. I admit I trusted in the word of the Jedi to defend us from the horde.”

He was interrupted by a voice in the crowd,

“The Jedi fought for peace, I was there! They were outnumbered! What else could they do, they did their best to protect us…”

The radical’s eyes beamed with intensity as he tried to stare through the crowd, he opened his mouth:

“Protect us? They can’t protect themselves! Bring peace, what peace? We are still burying our dead! If you would ally yourselves with fraudulent beings you are no Tythonian brother of mine and do yourself a disservice by not taking responsibility for yourself.”

The crowd was growing and even several shop-owners had left their stalls to listen.

“What can a Jedi do, that you cannot do for yourself? Have any of you questioned whether or not we even need them?

Silence once again befell the crowd of people.



The Council of Urr Meeting Chamber- Ooroo Abbey- A few weeks later

“Disent, that’s what it is! No matter what you call it, that protesting is inciting violence and making a mockery of everyone’s laws. Sir, the harassment of the natives is reaching deadly ends, if no action is taken the mobs out there are going to start tearing the city even further.” a man spoke opposite from the Gand High Councilor.

A Harakoan tribal leader spoke, “A flash mob burned down two houses in Memit this morning, where was your militia police to stop them?”

“Our militia does what it can, but we are no use against a mob of that mass.”

An outbreak of voices erupted from the Tythonians and Harakoan representatives as they crossed words with each other from their cushions.

The High Councilor bowed his head rubbing his temples before motioning his hand to the Nagai man to his right. The pale skinned figure stood up and approached the central enclosure. Immediately a silence overcame the group as all eyes put their attention forth toward the lanky man.

“No more fighting. It ends today, no matter the consequence.”

His face gave an air of neutrality as he focused his attention toward each of the representatives eyes, his gaze a cold yet nonthreatening gleam.

“In the interest of your peoples, the Jedi of Odan-Urr will consider resigning our political presence from the city, if your sides agree to a joint Tythonian/Harakoan government.”

The banter ignited once again amongst the circle, each side stressing their stance. Drodik broke the tension as he strode the inner circle drawing their attention.

“The city needs unity. The voice of the crowds demands our resignation and we feel it is time to give them that. They claim that we are weaker now than ever before, and that we are responsible for bringing the Brotherhood to war on the planet. The claims against us are true and everyone is aware of that. The fact is that Menat Ombo does not need us in a governmental capacity any longer. Menat needs you, it needs its own representatives to represent the city as one unified body. Before any healing and progress can be made, there needs to be unity.”

“Impossible, the prejudices against our people are too long ingrained. It will not work.” A Harakoan leader interrupted.

The Nagai continued calmly

“You must as a combined council with our assistance, devise a form of government to oversee your interests. Once you do, we will vacate the Abbey ceding control of the government to the new council and retain an adjutant position in the Hall of the Watchmen. There we will remain at the service of Menat Ombo and all people across the planet.”

He returned to his seat beside Ji and Jendan.

Pillars of Menat pt.2

An Alley in Memit

A fist swung through the air striking the nasal crest of a male Harakoan man. He fell to the muddy street while his attacker stood over bathing him with his looming shadow. He couldn’t see his attackers face just yet, but he knew what he was up against. A group of the man’s comrades adorned with yellow cords on their shoulders gathered around and began to kick at the helpless Harakoan.

“Blue bastard!” The attacker, a Tythonian man belted out. Spit shot from his mouth a moment later into the injured beings face; the Tythonian man walked off casually with his group of friends.

“These people are getting more violent these days Sua” A Harakoan woman said while she wiped the man’s face. “They know no shame, attack us in broad daylight with no regard for the law!”

“Calm down, its ok I’m fine.” he said as he stood up. He hunched over a little bit his shoulder blades in obvious pain from the kicks he had just received.

He continued, “Besides, did you see their cords? They support that demon Cy, we’re lucky they didn’t kill us.”

“Did they search you?”

“No,” Sua said as he pulled out a small book “I was on my way to the house, I need to get this to them, it’s important.”

A moment later the sound of charging footsteps thundered from around the corner.

Sua gave the woman the small notebook, “Take it to them!”

The woman hesitated to flee as the group brandished their clubs.

“RUN!” Sua yelled as the group drew closer



Ooroo Abbey





Whenua strut about the room with his hand rubbing his elongated forehead in stress. He was obviously in deep contemplation. His fellow tribal delegates Kiri and Matiu sat at the table with the Tythonian delegates Adrianus, Jantine, and Marten sat opposite them while the Jedi delegates Ji and Drodik sat at the head of the table.

The Harakoan known Matiu raised his voice in the silence.

“What could we hope for if we signed this accord? It would not bring back our burnt homes from the soil, nor breath the great breath into the lungs of our deceased family. It would only bring shame and detachment from our own people.”

Jantine stood, “You would lose nothing but more if you do not sign on.”

“You do not understand Tythonian, if the Harakoans of this city become equal citizens with your people, their tribes will shun them forever; I cannot allow this to happen.”

Just then Whenua spoke,

“The Harakoans in Menat are already detached from our people Matiu. They have already rejected their tribes and become a part of this populace despite the danger around them. We need peace with these people and we need it now. This is but the first step toward healing this prejudice and burying it in the past.”

Adrianus stood from his seat, “Whenua is correct. By signing this document your people and those of all beings living in Menat Ombo may apply to become full citizens of the state. They’ll be granted all rights and privelages as well as protection as any human Tythonian.

Matiu nodded his head as he walked over to the document. “So this is it? This will dissolve the current government in favor of this one?”

Adrianus nodded as he readied the pen over the document on the table.

The two Jedi approached the table as did the other of the soon-to-be council members.

The Nagai spoke to them all, “By signing this you acknowledge to all of its content and will use your offices to enact the policies to which only uphold the peace and prosperity of all citizens of the new City-State of Menat Ombo.”

Each of the six members shook hands with the Jedi as they each took their turns signing the lengthy document.




Visulu Marketplace- Days Later

A roar in the marketplace burst out as a ragged figure trod its way through the street. A cadre of men escorted him to the make-shift stage; upon their arms were tied yellow cords. Around two hundred individuals squeezed themselves around and encircled the small stone boulder in the ground. The ragged figure took to the small platform and stood there a brief moment.

The crowd continued to chant his name until he raised his hand to mid-chest level. After that the noise died down.

The man remained quiet as he surveyed the crowd. His eyes pierced every square inch of the crowd.

“Tythonians,” He said slowly.

“Brothers and sisters, all of you,”

The tension in the crowd was unnerving.

“We are a people, do you realize? We are among the first generations of our people to call this planet home. It is our duty to ensure our children, and theirs after them and so forth, can live without the fear of the Harakoan problem. If we do not ensure our own safety, and the safety of our future then we will never be free from the edge of extinction!”

The crowd started up again, they were completely entranced by this figure.

Who was he?

Where did he come from?

“Had it not been for the Jedi’s ineffectiveness I would not be here before you. But yet I am here, unafraid and unashamed to challenge those who would call themselves our governors. I ask nothing of you now than to do the same.”

The shuffling of a hundred feet kicked up the dirt in the plaza drawing new attention from the crowd already gathered. Behind the mass of people approached an equally sized crowd of mixed races. Among the faces visible were those of Harakoans, a few human Tythonians and Mon Calamari.

The crowd stopped a few meters away.

Immediately the men with yellow cords pushed their way forming a corridor of people through which the ragged madman approached the visitors. He stopped just after he made it out onto the clearing between the two crowds. The visiting crowd shuffled as it produced its own representative.

A woman of average height appeared. She was a beautiful woman with long black hair and green eyes. Her brown clothing spoke of her humility as did the relative calmness of her company. She walked steadily toward Cy and stopped a few feet away.

“Afternoon,” said the madman.

“What brings you here ma’am?”

The woman glanced down at the dirt and spat air from her pursed lips. Her eyes returned to Cys.

“What are you doing here hermit? This is only going to end one way, you know that don’t you?”

Cy blinked his eyes and looked at the sun. His retinas singed beneath the radiance of the fiery star and returned his miniscule pupils back towards the woman.

He whispered to her,

“Then I’ll have to do this right…”

The woman began to pace a little as she spoke, “The law is different now, the Jedi are no more, they’ve gone to their temple, you’ve won. End this.”

Cy smiled indignant of her response. “They are still the new governments advisors, they need to be brought to justice for their dereliction.”

“What would your justice be? Blood?”

The madman took a few steps backwards toward his crowd,

He locked eyes with her once more,

“Justice IS blood!”

Cy retreated back toward the stone boulder he descended from.

“My justice is blood! Justice IS blood!”

The crowd began to repeat the phrase in a chant. A few Harakoan men rushed out to assist the woman back to the safety of the crowd. The madman fell to his knees and began shouting,

“Justice IS Blood! The blood of all free Tythonian men and women!”

A moment later in the chaos one of the Harakoan men fell dead. His blood splashed the faces and clothes of the woman and other Harakoan; The lifeless body lay in the dirt beside a blood covered stone. More such stones rained down as both crowds let out thunderous roars while they raced toward the other.

With little breath, Cy looked on in a mad daze and clenched his fist while his yellow corded praetorian guard carted him away.

Pillars of Menat pt.3

A Basement in It’kla- Nightime




The woman ducked as she avoided roots from the surface above creeping down into the tunnel passages. At her feet along the dirt walls of the corridor lay the sleeping bodies of dozens of Harakoans and Tythonians. She grasped her way through the dimly lit spaces til she emerged into the lower basement of an above residence. The air in the room was thick and dull, however the company within was great and magnetic.

“Whats is this?” A calm voice said as it picked up what the woman had dropped on his desk.

She looked down at it, “She brought it to us,” the woman said as she took the hand of a female Harakoan following her.

The voice exhaled smoothly as it picked up the small dirt encrusted leather-bound book. “Your husband died for this book didn’t he?”

The Harakoan nodded whilst the owner of the voice scanned through the pages of the text. His fingers flipped through the pages quickly taking a mental note as to the contents. He paused as he came to a page of note. They were plans of some sort but the women in the room couldn’t make out exactly what they were looking at; the man closed the book with a firm grip.

“We are going to have to move quicker than I anticipated. I wish it hadn’t been this way but we must.”

He stood up emerging from the shadows while he approached the women. He approached the sleeping Harakoan in the tunnel and bent down on his knees. “His bandages are holding firm, has the swelling subsided?” he asked.

The woman in black responded, “Somewhat, but we’re limited on supplies. He won’t stand a chance if he develops an infection, not even at a clinic; he’s Harakoan, they won’t treat him.” She sighed.

“The new laws forbid the discrimination, we must try despite the circumstances. Have someone take him in the morning.” The man said.

“Cy will be having another rally later this week. I don’t want our protesters out there for this one.”He said

The Harakoan woman named Niya spoke up, “We lost five people! We must be there to speak against him.”

The man turned around,

“Yelling and screaming in the streets and the bloodshed will only further turn this city to ash. That is not the way we must do things. No, we will go to the Abbey and speak to the new council and the Jedi, they are ones with executive powers, they will know how to calm Cy’s supporters.”

Forest North of the Sabina River- Same Night

The canopy top of the surrounding forest swayed and moaned as the wind forced its way through the narrow alleys of tree trunks. Branches crackled and creaked unfurling a cascading sprinkle of leaves onto the soil below. Smoke from about twenty separate fires drifted upward through the orange glow of the night.

Silhouettes of over a hundred figures flickered in the glow of the fires of the camp. The figures were mostly men and women of various races, all armed to the teeth with blasters and rifles. For the most part they were content to have food in their mouths and a warm fire, but they didn’t come to this backwater jungle planet for just any excursion, nor would they settle for anything less promised to them as mercenaries.

Their mission was clear and they accepted it fully.

A Rodian male made his way through the encampment. No sooner had he sat down to drink down his worries than a tap on his shoulder brought his attention to his second in command.

“Sir, he’s arrived..”

“Come..” the Rodian responded.

The two approached the haggard man and his bodyguards. With outstretched arms the Hermit grasped th hand of the Rodian firmly

“Feeux,” he said

The Rodian tilted his head and pointed a thumb over his shoulder in reply

“As promised, these are the arms for your cause. They will follow your commands, as will I…to an extent of course.”

“Naturally.” Cy responded. His black eyes bulged with fascination at the number of mercs behind his new employee. He motioned to the guard to his left who handed the Rodians Second a large case. “Your payment, in full.” Cy said. The case clicked open and the two looked inside at the wealth of credits within.

Without question, Feeux knew his next course of action.

Council Chambers-Ooroo Abbey- Same Night

The blonde man Adrianus scanned through his datapad, “Marten, report from the Jedi?”

The Tythonian man read from his own datapad:

“K.U.D.F. is developing albeit behind schedule. As of now the Jedi have established and trained the following units: The Tanduran Dac Unified Commandos, The Melewati Bushfighters, and the Bombarda Artillery Collumn. Even the Wookie Unit “The Chosen” has successfully organized. Each unit is organized, trained and ready in the event their services are necessary.”

Marten clicked off his datapad placing it gently on his lap. The focus in the room shifted to the standing Whenua. The tall Harakoan Chieftan glared at the Tythonian Adrianus.

The blond man spoke again, “The protectorates, do you have your report?”

The Chieftan only nodded toward Kiri:

“Thus far we have registered three Iwus,” she said “Iwus Zawag, Gioki and Kazharam. The Gioki however are still reluctant to fully register. We and the Jedi guardians seek to protect them regardless.”

“And waste resources on people who refuse our help?” Jantine interrupted

“The Gioki are the oldest of our tribal cousins, relics of our history, our people.” said Matiu in response. “The Jedi understand this—“

A loud shout from Adrianus interrupted the entire exchange,

“So be it, there are more pressing matters we must attend, namely these radicals in the streets, Cy and who now? Who else is it?”

Marten interjected, “His name is Gideon. He’s gaining a following in the same manner as Cy, however his views are in the opposition.”

“I knew that.” Adrianus responded rubbing his forehead

“The man has been persistently sending messengers and letters requesting a meeting with this council.” announced Marten, “It might be wise to appease him, considering Cy’s movement is growing considerably out of control.”

“He is no Kotahitanga Military leader, he cannot control any soldiers.” Kiri responded

“No, but he has influence the same as Cy. If we back his movement the city will grow more toward the peace we need.” Said Adrianus,

“Cy’s arest has been ordered from the Jedi. They will apprehend him before the rally in a few days hence. In the meantime we would do well to have this open assembly with Gideon and his activists.”

Halls of the Watchmen- Ji’s Office- Same Night

“I want him arrested, immediately. There are the orders from the City Council.” Ji said as he laid a document on the desk. “From all reports and evidence thus far it was he who propagated the upheaval.”

The Aedile approached the desk taking the sheet into his hands. He scanned the text a moment before looking up at the Gand High Councillor,

“I’ll have Kairas unit dispatched to apprehend him. He is scheduled to hold another rally in a few days, hopefully they can spot him before then.”

The Quaestor rubbed his forehead a moment while he peered out the window overlooking the city.

Ji beamed at the Nagai before him,

“He has supporters now, a few weeks ago he was thought of as a crazy hermit, but now he has numbers. Whether or not they pose an actual risk to the security of the city remains to be seen, but even so, we should consider the disturbance in the marketplace a sign of his influence. Go and instruct the Lightwalkers of their objectives and supervise the operation. May the force be with you.”

Ooroo Abbey- Assembly Hall- A few days later

It was approximately mid-afternoon when the sounds of the chants from the protesters began to burst forward from the massive crowd. Hundreds of heads scattered about the plaza and the main avenues leading toward Ooroo Abbey in anticipation of the new voice of liberty. Smoke from Visulu could be seen overhead through the cities dense foliage from the grounds near the Abbey.

In the wake of the riots ending no word had been made as to the whereabouts or activities of the mad hermit Cy. His supporters however had grown exponentially in number from all corners of the city and outlying homesteads. Their presence on the streets was only a stark reminder of the current plight of the Harakoans and their pursuit for freedom and equality. Likewise, the presence of these new supporters, the anti-speciests pining for a peaceful Menat Ombo and equality for all citizens of the planet signaled a great schism in dominant ideologies.

The tattered soil and broken brick avenue leading toward the Abbey became so dense with marching protesters that people flooded the flanking forest. The entire mass of people came to a sudden halt at the steps of Ooroo Abbey along the slopes of the plateau.

The man leading them was himself flanked at the sides by the woman in black as well as a Harakoan woman and an assortment of other figures. He stretched out his arms from the steps overlooking the crowd and nodded thankfully. Silence befell the crowd and he began to speak:

“I cannot express to you the horror that is unfolding in the streets of the city; each day is worse than the previous. ” he said “This city was founded on the premise of peace that all beings regardless of origin would find peace within its walls; yet presently only bigotry and inequality seem to be thriving here.”

A slight breeze picked up in the treetops and the sun shone vibrantly down on the whole area. It was a perfect day.

“The era of a divided and bruised and polluted Harakoa has seen its end. The people, all of you are ready to move on! The victims of the past may have their rest now, for we will bring them the justice of peace.”

Thunderous clapping erupted.

“Moments from now, I and other leaders,” he said suggesting to the ten people by his side, “Will ask this council to investigate the validity of Cy Thurons heinous and destructive movement. The ideology expressed is inherently destructive to the progress of a peaceful New Tython and remains a direct threat to the people of Menat Ombo and the laws we respect.”

While Gideon spoke to the crowd a messenger from inside the Abbey emerged. A human woman, she walked gracefully across the plaza and greeted Gideon and the other movements leaders.

“The Council is prepared to speak with you Mr. Varos, follow me.” Gideon turned to the crowd and with an outstretched arm announced,

“For peace!”

Jebbis Pit Cantina- Half an Hour Later

The cool air of the day added extra comfort to the patrons of the outside bar Jebbis Pit Cantina. About a quarter mile from the Abbey, the activity there could be heard clearly.

“What the hell is happening up at the Abbey?” said a Tythonian man to the barkeep

“Where’ve you been? That’s Gideons peace movement, I guess some people have had enough of that Cy” he replied while handing over a drink.

“Some people!?! *hic*” said a drunk old man at a table next to the dirt street,

“That’s half the city! ‘Some’ people is a damned understatement.”

A loud boom thundered through the air just then. The vibrations from a faraway source rocked through the ground shattering glasses from behind the bar. Inside of their chests, the three men could feel their hearts sinking deep and their fear rising. Puzzled, they looked briefly at each other.

“What…was that?” said Jebbi the Barkeep.

The drunk old man staggered from his chair and looked over the treetop horizon. A large billow of smoke rose like a snake, writhing toward the sky and the sounds of screams raced down the hill. The old man painted up the hill,

“The Abbey!”

Jebbi jumped over from behind the bar and darted out into the street brushing against the old man. The younger Tythonian followed. They stopped in the middle of the street, in disbelief they paused a second before sprinting up the hill.

Bisecting all the blocks of Memit, the two men raced through the thin forest in a mad dash toward the Abbey. As they ran the needles and branches of the trees whipped their faces as they pushed in haste toward the source of the screams. As they approached, the furor and horror began to unfold as they emerged onto the Abbey Plaza. Before them in great numbers were countless citizens ragged in their own blood and dust kicked up from the explosion. A great haze of dust made view into the Abbey nearly impossible, yet more bloodied people staggered through the damaged entryways.

“What happened?” Jebbi asked a woman sitting on the stones

Shock prevented her from responding.

Her chest heaved heavily in and out as she held her bloody head in her hand. Jebbi ran toward the entrance and began helping people out of the structure. Others began to do the same and before long the plaza became filled with people in distress.

A few hours passed into just before the sunset and makeshift camp had sprouted. Medics from KUDF established triage tents in the plaza, those uninjured and able departed for their homes.

Meanwhile the dust had settled in the Abbey and the true state of the explosion was known. Inside the bodies of countless individuals lay strewn about in a horrendous mash of broken and bleeding bodies. The pews of the Abbey nearest the crater along with most of the decorative fixtures and statues were shattered to bits. A large crack ran through the blood-stained stone floor leading up to the center of the presiding structure. Jebbi approached the battered podium.

In his amazement at his feet lay the distorted body of a man, he lifted his hand a few inches above the ground and met his eyes with Jebbis.

He tried to say something but failed. In the end, Jebbi held the hand of the man in his final moments.

Three figures approached Jebbi from behind, all bloodied from their injuries. The blonde man Adrianus, Jantine, and Matiu circled around.

“His name was Marten,” Adrianus said

“He was perhaps the wisest of us all.” He concluded.

Jebbi rose to his feet, “Stop Cy…” , he said as he pushed his way toward the broken doors of Ooroo Abbey.

Jantine wiped blood and tears from her eyes, “Have the Jedi found Cy yet?”

Adrianus sighed, “We’ll know soon enough.”

Pillars of Menat pt.4 & Epilogue

Ooroo Abbey- Meeting Chamber- Two Weeks Ago

The sun peaked over the horizon whilst a group of black clothed individuals sat across from the five surviving Council members Adrianus, Whenua, Jantine, Matiu, and Kiri. The loyalists of Cy, now christened the Peoples New Dawn had since appointed representatives. Those individuals now sat confident in their black uniforms, a yellow cord wrapped around their shoulders.

Outside, the incessant rumble of a thousand voices reverberated into the Council chambers. Citizens from all over Menat Ombo now crowded the perimeter of the Abbey banding in protest of the uniformed individuals. A week had passed since the bombing at Ooroo Abbey allowing a dull tasteless calm to hang over the mourning city. Mounds of dirt populated a forlorn field outside of the city limit; within were the mangled remains of victims respectively laid to rest. The forty-nine mounds added to the already innumerable bodies of those who lost their lives since the Jedi first occupied New Tython. How many souls had perished since then; in the diseases, the Tythonian-Harakoan atrocities, Jedi War, and now civil unrest gripped New Tython like never before in known history.

“We and the people we represent will not be made the scapegoats of this attack.” The man said.

“This is a pathetic move by this administration to claim that our organization carried out such an attack.” He continued as he pointed his finger at the council. “You fools have been deceived! Your claims would be more appropriate to accuse the Jedi of manipulating this attack into controlling you! You have no evidence or witnesses to even begin to make such claims against the New Dawn in the first place”

New Dawn; the name carried an odd amount of weight in the ears of the council. Not only had the civil unrest torn apart Menat Ombo further but now a runaway movement: The Tythonian Peoples New Dawn.

“Mr. Miliet, your organization agreed to meet with us. While you are not under arrest we understood you would enter dialogue with this council.”

Ozan nodded in indignation “Very well.”

“Name, age, and position.” Jantine asked

The gruff albeit youthful voice spoke first, “Ozan Miliet, 28; Position undisclosed”

The two officers accompanying him refused the same request.

“They are of no importance, merely security I assure you.”

Adrianus began,

“Can you disclose to us the whereabouts of Cy Thuron?”

Ozan laughed in his chair before standing

“Were we not under the pretense that there would be peace talks here today Mr. Miliet?” Jantine asked. The man paused and exchanged a whisper in his colleagues’ ear before returning his penetrative gaze.

“We are to deliver this,” he said as he handed the council a document. “I apologize Council members, but I fear I am wasting all of our time. Our orders are clear, there will be no peace talks; especially with a Jedi backed regime such as this” Ozan looked on at his confused audience.

He rubbed his grizzled chin before strutting about the room.

“The Tythonian people have no home beside this planet. Your Mon Calamari allies and Harakoan natives may return to their places of origin, but the diaspora of our people from our homeworld’s has left us wandering nomads and furthermore depicted as animals as we seek to carve a home for ourselves on this planet. In essence, you shall have your peace, council, as a by-product of our independence.”

The Council stood from their chairs as Ozan and the two officers backed up toward the door.

Ozan concluded, “In three days hence our organization has planned for the exodus of all supporters of The New Dawn. We shall vacate the city limits peacefully; that I guarantee, and settle in an unpopulated region north of the Sabina Basin.”

Halls Of the Watchmen- Ji’s Quarters- 2 Days Later

A thick sweet yet rancid odor hovered throughout the mortally wounded Quaestors quarters. Dim yellow lights barely illuminated the chamber adding to the nausea induced by both the smells and the humidity from the ammonia gas being pumped into the space.

The Quaestor rested on his backside next to the window. His view was spectacular this evening; the celestial bodies Ish and Kalfu rested gently against the dimming purple light from Yhi. Distant stars of the twilight poked through the atmosphere of Harakoa breathing a beauty unparalleled on other Brotherhood worlds.

Two Shaman from the Takuta Tama-nui-te-ra knelt beside the injured Gand tending to his wounds. Another Shaman divined in the center of the room, he cast himself onto the floor performing exotic rituals and offering prayer and steadfast energy to the upper cosmological realms.

Ji spoke quietly to the Takuta Shamans commander Protector Caleb Sal informing him of the last orders he would give him; the Chiss listened intently before acting.

When Ji had finished speaking Caleb rose to his feet and affixed the breathing apparatus to his Quaestors body. He then approached a control panel opening the windows and venting the chamber. The Takuta Shaman upon seeing this backed away from the bedside and prostrated themselves to the floor in deep prayer.

Caleb left the room momentarily.

The sound from the apparatus reverberated off the walls filling the space between the undertones of Harakoan prayer while a breeze picked up cooling off the Gands heated body. The crusty yellow linen beneath him had become soiled from the substances leaking from within his exoskeleton.

Beaten and tired, the Gands thoughts drifted to days gone by: Of his youth, the old Jedi Order, the founding of Menat… and finally the bombing of Ooroo Abbey…….

~~The Abbey was filled to capacity; Gideon the peacemaker stood speaking at the nave, and the Menat Council before him. The figure in the archway…it ran forward bypassing security. The blast tore through the chamber just as he had thrown himself between the peacemaker and the council. Power erupted from his palms as he let out a circumferential current of force energy throwing Gideon and the Council~~

Ji’s own palms now rested gently on his exposed body cavity. Oxygen had now intermingled with his organs, death was moments away, and he knew it. The week had been spent with every Shaman, and Jedi proficient in the healing arts, but to no avail.

His gaze shifted out the window once again to the view of the setting star and the moons above it.

“Master Ji,” a calm voice pierced the silence.

The Nagai Aedile approached the fading Gand.

He could see the intense damage and could sense somehow the life-force within the body dimming.

Ji nodded his head and pointed outside of the window. A group of Odanites : Revak, Morotheri, Kaira, and Vanwyck, Krandon, Lelila, and Guinevere, had followed Caleb and Drodik to the Quaestors chamber.

Everyone knew what was happening, no one who was present could say they didn’t.

“Quaestor Va’lence…” said the voice through the vocoder as he motioned the Nagai approach. “You’ve brought the Disciples of Urr?” his speech was becoming strained. The body seized for brief seconds while Ji stoically maintained composure.

He then spoke to the Disciples:

“Be not afraid…” he coughed, “the balance, between light…and dark, is nil; an illusion. The force is supreme…in its entirety. Light, dark, there are…..no such things.”

His body seized again in its last throes, the Oxygen in his ammonia based organs was poison.

“There is no divide, not between light…or dark, nor is there in life…and death.” He struggled to get the words out. “I will go, and so shall you all, but truly dead, we will never be….” His voice was trailing.

“Master Drodik, lead the Urrians in days to pass.”

At last the Jedi Master named Ji had his breathing apparatus removed and thus spoke the words of his homeworld.

His head then bowed and the motionless body faded into the twilight while the Takuta Tama-nui-te-ra shaman scattered flower petals out the window into the radiant setting sun.

The Steps Outside Ooroo Abbey- Hours Later

The dark of the night abated at the luminous presence from the bustling activity in the early hours of the following morning. Steady streams of Menat Ombo citizens allying with the New Dawn flowed into the main commons filling the avenue in front of the Abbey. Just as Cy’s lieutenant Ozan Miliet had warned, the exodus had come to fruition.

These were the intolerant souls, the minds melded by hatred and arrogance fueled by matters inconsequential in stark reality. Though most were obscured in pockets of darkness, their true numbers were revealing themselves as the night continued its retreat. Manual and turbo-lift carts bore the burden of these peoples belongings, their future and destiny.

The line in the sand; a threshold boldly crossed.

Behind the activity, seated atop the highest steps of the Abbey grounds the Menat Council sat overlooking the exodus. “These, your people had made outright separation with you. Such treachery is intolerable!” Whenua exclaimed.

“That is true Councilor, this secession bears its own weight of legal violations.” Said the Tythonian Jantine.

The other two Harakoan councilors grimaced as they watched the sight of people, their trail departing out of the avenue. “The people have every right to break from this government; that much is certain. Incredibly the only verifiable law-breakers are Cy and the ridiculous thugs he employed.” Matiu said.

Adrianus stood from the step and faced his allies, “The Jedi have reported the scouts from KUDF have scouted out the Sabina river basin in advance of this movement, we shall learn more from the Jedi soon. If the reports from KUDF are true, Cy is amassing ground forces…this is civil war…”

His fists clenched a moment before continuing, “In all consideration, these people are leaving while not bearing arms now they WILL, that I guarantee.” He said pointing behind him.

“We should declare martial law and put an end to this before it contin—“ Adrianus ceased his speaking at the sight of the approaching Jedi’s Drodik, Morotheri, and Kaira.

“-And use our military against these townspeople Councilor?” the Nagai questioned rhetorically.

“These are civilians with little training than what they received during the Brotherhood invasion, Kotahitanga-Unity Defense is no tool of an oppressive arm.” Said the Miraluka Rollmaster.

Adrianus nodded, “Forgive my haste Master Jedi.”

A blue and purple haze began to illuminate the uppermost crest of the central mountains.

The Jedi approached the group solemnly before Kiri spoke, “Master Ji, he is gone from this world now, is he not? We could hear the Takuta madrigals of mourning.”

The Jedi nodded.

“The days which lay before us,” Drodik began, “are long and without ease; equally so are the struggles we must face.. Menat Ombo is a delicate creature, I urge you to allow this limb to separate so as to protect the body. Peace will come to the wounded city, but vigilance is needed until the character of this infection presents itself Councilors.”

The Nagai crossed his arms and departed with the other Jedi.

Alone again, the Council watched the moving crowd.

“Martens post, it must be filled within the next month.” Matiu said.

“The people, human and Harakoans favor Gideon, they call for his leadership; this election will be nominal.” Jantine interjected. “He is the voice of the people, his influence will be invaluable to this administration.” She said as she sat beside the other seated Councilors.

They continued to watch the exodus on into the brightening sky. The people were ardent in their goals. Women, children, old and young, all marched on. Meanwhile overhead, the star Yhi’s first sunbeams shot over the crest of the distant pale blue-purple skies paving the way as the collective inhabitants of New Tython headed into the New Dawn.

Epilogue- Datapad Entry- ???

x32Y-B

……………Veryfying…………..Record:

………..

……..

.. . . … .. . .. .. Holo-vid
~~A video Plays~~

Dense foliage choked the surrounding topography, coupled with a deluge of rainwater from the canopy above making the trek through the brush increasingly dangerous. The journeying hikers, one brown cloaked figure flanked by two armed escorts cut through the thick vines and branches. The cloaked man feverishly pushed forward, his pace had surpassed that of the men at his flank.

“I can see it sir!” said one of the men. He held out his outstretched index finger toward several stone monoliths. Upon a ridge barely visible stood the upper most tops of seven stone pillars on the mountainside; the jungle had nearly buried them entirely.

~~Static….~~

“It’s been twelve days, he won’t eat or sleep. Only reads that brown book.” someones voice could be heard saying.

The video panned over their small encampment before focusing on the jungle temple itself. The team looked down a grand triangular stone hallway; the walls bore strange hieroglyphics of figures resembling ancient Harakoans except their nasal crests were much smaller and less apparent than present day.

The brown cloaked figure was then spotted rubbing his fingertips over the glyphs with the book in tandem. The company remained silent as they observed the madman whispering in tongues. “What is this place?” the same voice asked.

The woman in the group approached one of the walls and cast her torch upwards against the wall. A frieze of figures presented itself.

“This temple is ancient! How long has it been here?” she asked in great zeal.

The hermit cast his attention toward the group with great disdain.

“Silence!” he commanded in a hushed tone.

“What is this place sir?”

He departed from their presence seemingly ignoring the question.

The group continued to study the frieze, a great figure of a different race stood over a mass of ancient Harakoans, behind him were similar figures domineering over the population. In one panel the central figures arms stretched out over the people, they were knelt below him in fear. Another panel showed the same people organized encircling the figure, their arms raised in praise

~~Static~~

A strange red glow from the lights set into the stone floors barely illuminated the glyph-filled walls. The air was musky and stale from the millennia of calm. The team approached the end of a dark hallway, at the end they came to a bright orange-lit spiraling staircase.

The mad hermit led the way down.

“I have a bad feeling about this.” The woman was heard saying.

Along the way more hieroglyphs told the story of the ancient people from creation to the time of the great figure, in it the ancient Harakoan mystics were depicted in various panels performing rituals, healing the sick, and wielding ‘magic’ on their environments. The last of the panels in the staircase showed the rise of the domineering figure leading the ancient Harakoans into battle; a great power arced from his hand.

“We are here…” said Cy

The group emerged from the staircase into a massive keep. Seven colossal stone pillars, the same as witnessed from the mountainside stretched down finding their foundations in the stone floor of the chamber. Light was scarce, the only bit came from the small torches lining the walls; darkness had otherwise obscured the distant walls and pitch-black ceiling.

He led the group forward into the avenue lining the stretch of brick and stone pillars. At the end the group observed a small circular pool about 9 feet across filled with black brackish water; directly behind it a set of thrones awaited. Cy became immediately drawn, saying,

“This is the seat of power. Harakoan kings and queens ruled from here long ago, their court mystic’s practitioners of a powerfully dark and esoteric knowledge.”

“The force?” someone asked,

Immediately an eerie electricity in the air brought chills to the group now encircling the water. Cy plunged his legs into the thigh-high black water and waded toward the center. He held his palms just millimeters from the surface, a crackle of blue electricity radiated from his palms.

Fear filled their hearts!

The hermit began to mumble incoherently whilst his pupils retreated revealing the yellowish whites of his eyes. The thunder of immense energy began to swirl yielding a drone which filled the massive cavity of the keep. Cy’s harrowing voice grew louder in incomprehensible syllables whilst the group members witnessed him raise his arms revealing an alizarin glow from the floor of the pool below him.

Flashes erupted from behind the group who turned around. The video flashed as the holder spun around to see the origin of the beam. Four black cloaked figures with faces obscured by thick black masks approached the pool. Fear in the moment reached a fever pitch when one of the team members grabbed at their necks unable to breathe. They watched their own body lift off of the stone floor and drift over the black pool. The splashed as they fell into the glowing water and into Cy’s grasp.

The video became erratic while the other teammate made a mad sprint toward the staircase. In between strides glances of the dark ritual were seen from behind. A sudden loud scream erupted from behind causing the runner to stop and look back only to witness the final moments of her teammate.

At the end of the avenue in the black pool surrounded by the dark figures, Cy reached up to the alizarin ball of energy above him channeling his own energy. The mad hermit using his other hand reached into the haggard robes withdrawing a jagged blade and slowly brandished it over his head whilst mouthing a chant in an unknown language.

At last the knife began its trek towards the mortified sacrifice.

Bastions of Knowledge pt.1&2

Part I

The sun had begun rising over New Tython, it’s rays of light illuminating the morning sky with a golden hue. The miralukan Rollmaster paced steadily down the steep decline of cobblestone steps into the expansive canyon below as a cool breeze engulfed him. Created during the tenth Great Jedi War as a result of bombardment by the Brotherhood fleet, this canyon serves a bastion of rebuilding to the Acolytes of Urr. Only recently discovered, any acolyte who wanders within the valley may feel a strange abundance of the Force, as a result, Morotheri had ordered construction of a Praxeum, so that this wonder may also serve as a center of knowledge to those pursuing a better understanding of the mysterious ways of the Force. Below, scaffolding lined the massive stone barriers supporting the canyon walls as the Praxeum neared the final stage of completion. Abruptly, the Rollmaster’s trance had been broken as a lone Harakoan worker approached the Miraluka.

“Master Morotheri, the Praxeum is nearly complete. We expect the Praxeum to be completed by sunset.” Informed the Harakoan, who had just returned from ensuring that the barriers were secure. Morotheri grinned, he had not expected the Praxeum to be in the finishing stages so soon. As the Miraluka continued on towards the largest structure of the Praxeum, a massive library modelled after the library of Odan-Urr on Ossus himself, A large assembly had been gathered eagerly before him. Familiar faces appeared in the sea of eager Jedi before him, all of them awaiting this moment. As he stepped up onto the podium carefully prepared for this occasion, he cleared his throat. The Miraluka had not been much for long speeches, perhaps as a side effect of living in constant isolation for the vast majority of his life. Nonetheless, he stood eager as he peered down into the audience, ready to make the grand gesture that would mark a new chapter in the training of young Padawans.

“Jedi of Odan-Urr! We have reclaimed this very ground as a bastion of hope! Not long ago, we had been faced with a crisis that was the invasion of the Brotherhood. This Praxeum had once been the site of one of the footsteps of the Brotherhood. Now, it will serve us as a means of gaining knowledge in the ways of the Force, so that we are better prepared against the next crisis we will face. Effectively and immediately, I hereby announce this Praxeum open to those who wish to pursue the training they seek.” With this announcement, applause drowned out all other sound as Morotheri took his leave.

Hours later, Morotheri traversed through the maze of hallways beneath the library wearily. He dug deep in the pockets of his crimson robes for one item in particular, a small ornate key that would unlock a hidden room deep below the Jedi Praxeum. The key itself had been like none other he had seen, it’s shape was that of a thin five-pointed star with many inatricate details engraved into each of the points. Arriving at the door, he looked up. The door was constructed of mostly durasteel, with a thin layer of beskar to prevent anyone – or anything from getting in, or out. In his other hand, he held a heavy object covered in rags. Sliding the key into the lock, the door mechanism came to life as the heavy doors swung ajar. Entering the ominous space, called the “Chamber of Antiquities”, the Rollmaster braced himself as he entered the space forbidden to most. The Chamber was essentially a cube-shaped room which stored a great array of Dark-side artifacts. As he entered the space, the usual sense of foreboding filled the miraluka as he set down the mysterious object, unpackaging it from the carefully-wrapped rags. As he begun unravelling the rags carefully, the holocron’s polished granite face revealed itself. Morotheri looked down at his reflection in the holocron as fear clouded his mind, his thoughts turned briefly to that of utter chaos and the destruction of Ooroo Abbey circled his mind like a vivid nightmare. Startled, he dropped the holocron onto an empty stone pillar lined up among other holocrons of varying nature. Aware of the dangers of being present in the room over extended periods of time, the Miraluka exited the room, locking the great door behind him.

Within the Chamber of Antiquties, a faint crimson glow illuminated the Chamber of Antiquities as the holocron flickered to life…

Part II

It had not been a week later when Morotheri had begun feeling the ill effects of the Chamber of Antiquties influencing his mind. It had taken a toll on his body as he stumbled on towards his private quarters. The constant contact with the dark Force energies from the Chamber of Antiquties had made him restless, depriving him of sleep as he was plagued by vivid nightmares. Arriving at his chambers, he sat down clumsily at the far end of an elegant table. He did not notice the Nagai staring at him from the other end.

“Morotheri, how goes your day? I couldn’t help but notice that you seem tired. More than usual, that is.” The Nagai spoke, raising a glass to his lips. Morotheri nodded, he had wanted only to rest. The Nagai set down the glass as he inquired further, “I know when you are troubled, my friend. You aren’t very good at hiding it. I have watched you spending sleepless nights down in the Chamber of Antiquities.” This time, Drodik’s voice had seemed to carry an unfamiliar tone, as if it were a warning. Then again, Morotheri thought, it could just be the sleep taking hold of him.

Drodik leaned across the table, appearing to have forgotten completely of the beverage sitting on the table in front of him. Since the death of the high councillor, Drodik had been keeping a close tab on Morotheri, who preferred to move about unnoticed and unseen by prying eyes. This time, almost threateningly, the Nagai spoke, “Morotheri, you must tear yourself away from that chamber, lest you succumb to the very thing you seek to prevent.” Instantly, these words had snapped the Rollmaster out of his groggy state. Since his time as Rollmaster, defending his Padawans from the treachery of the Dark Side had been his goal, his purpose. “Morotheri, you must lock that key away in a safe location. There are those who will seek to unearth these relics from your Chamber of Antiquities. Think on this while I am gone.” With that, the Nagai left the room.

Morotheri lifted the key clutched in his hand, his knuckles white. Prying open his clutched fingers, he stared down passively at the key in his palm. Drodik was right. He had to lock the key away, or lose himself forever to the Dark Side. He found the cabinet on the other side of the room, opening it, he reached in and slid open the false bottom. He glanced once more at the key as he promptly placed it within, closing the gap created in the false bottom. This was to be the resting place of the key, for the time being.

Bastions of Knowledge pt.3&4

Part III



Morotheri lay motionless on the soft bed within his quarters. It had only been a few days, and already he started to feel the ill effects of the Chamber of Antiquitites dissipating from his body. The frequent nightmares invading his dreams however, still clung to him like a disease. He lingered for a moment before losing consciousness within the familiar surroundings of his quarters.



The miralukan Rollmaster sprinted desperately towards the Jedi Library within the Praxeum. Inside, he could hear the screams of those trapped within the thick stone walls as the great structure had been set ablaze by forces unseen. As he reached the great doorway leading within, he had been stopped short and thrown back by a violent explosion erupting from the massive stained-glass portrait in the likeness of the now deceased High Councillor, Ji. As he lay on the cold, damp ground resting on the borderline of consciousness, a bright flash of crimson caught his attention as he looked up at the ominous figure before him, who held in his hand a blade blood red in colour. As the attacker lunged out, the crimson blade darting towards the helpless Rollmaster, Morotheri let out a deafening scream as he awoke within his chambers.



Startled, the Miralukan Rollmaster awakened from his deep, but brief sleep. As he donned his usual attire of long, red robes and accompanying tunic underneath, Morotheri had heard a shrill, but familiar sound originating from outside of the building, piercing the still silence engulfing the Praxeum. Like a blaster shot, it all become crystal clear. The nightmares had not been dreams at all; they had been a warning for something far more sinister.



He had rushed out into the cool, midnight air and immediately followed the shouting voices coming from within the library itself. Familiar scenes played out in the far reaches of his mind as he shook them off and continued up towards the library, his amber blade spilling forth in a radiant orange glow. Smoke billowed up from one of the four domes of the library as a grey blanket clouded the night sky overhead.



“Morotheri!”Shouted Xaezhul as he battled a host of the mysterious attackers alongside masters VanWyck and Drodik. Instantly, Morotheri focused on controlling his emotions as he sprinted up towards the unsuspecting agent with unrelenting speed. With a powerful gust of Force energy, the attacker was lifted from his feet as he was slammed into a nearby duracrete wall. “Master Morotheri! We heard shouting from within, it seems that there are still Padawans trapped within the library!” Morotheri nodded, and led the way into the heart of the Praxeum.



From the exterior of the otherwise impenetrable building, the three Jedi could feel the intense heat radiating from within the library. The grand doors that had once served as an entryway into the structure lay in smoldering pieces, apparently broken in half. Within, a muffled voice called out in panic as the trio continued forward through the burning halls and passageways. Using the Force, the three Jedi focused on controlling their breath, as to avoid choking on the thick smoke as they made their way past the maze of smoldering, collapsed hallways and obstacles in their path. Eventually, they came to a room. Trying the door, the handle burnt the flesh of the Rollmaster’s hand as he swore. With a blast of Force energy, the door’s hinges gave way, sending the obstruction hurling across the room.



A thick black cloud of smoke rose out from the room, imparing the vision of the Jedi. Munala, among others emerged from the room as VanWyck pointed them to safety. The Padawans had been trapped in the room for some time, and needed medical attention immediately. As the three Jedi turned to leave the room however, a mysterious figure stood passively at the doorway, clad in robes of black. The figure’s lightsaber materialized, spilling forth in colors of dark crimson. The miraluka recognized this man from his dreams instantly. “Run! Get the Padawans to safety!” Ordered Morotheri as the two other Jedi fled the room, ushering the Padawans forward as they continued down the hallways which were slowly consumed by an expanding inferno.



Within the chamber, both Jedi circled each other, none lifting their gaze from the other. With sudden strikes of surprising speed and agility, the Dark Jedi unleashed forth a flurry of attacks in an attempt to provoke the feelings of the Jedi. Morotheri parried these as he attempted to catch the Dark Jedi unawares with a false strike with his lightsaber, using his free hand to send out a wave of energy as the Dark Jedi skidded on his heels a few feet away. Using the distance to his advantage, the Dark Jedi sent forth a torrent of lightning as Morotheri raised his lightsaber, a moment too late as the lightning struck. The last thing the Rollmaster had remembered was the jet black cloak of his attacker as they disappeared through the doorway, donning their hood.



Part IV



The miraluka awoke within his chambers, now seemingly a makeshift clinic as the harakoan reached out towards the Rollmaster to apply a mixture of herbs to his burns. The Rollmaster winced in pain as he processed the battle, which had only seemed to him to only have happened a few moments ago. Drodik stood at the window, staring out towards the ruins that the Dark Jedi had left in their wake. “Are the Padawans safe?” Morotheri asked, confused at his current state.“Indeed, they are. The Dark Jedi retreated shortly after we found you. The damage to the library was great indeed, but repairs have been started while you were unconscious. How are you feeling?” Morotheri attempted to roll over, but a sudden jolt of pain rose from his side as he attempted to do so. The harakoan looked at him apologetically as he raised another handful of herbs to the damage. “I’ve been worse.” The Miraluka replied, forcing a smile as he done so. With a worried expression, the Nagai spoke, “Morotheri. You have been unconscious for twelve days.”



The miraluka looked out of his window, out towards the library that had been damaged severely during the attack. However, the worst of the damage had been repaired, and many of the valued tomes saved within. However, the Rollmaster still felt a sense of apprehension within himself. He looked down at his hand, which had been carefully bandaged, as was his torso. He had been told that he would make a full recovery and regain full use of his hand in the coming weeks. As usual, he made his way to his wardrobe, as he sensed something out of place. A nearby cabinet had been left open, the drawers had been pulled out and stacked neatly on the floor beside it. As he reached in, he could feel the false bottom removed, but nothing remained inside. It was then, that he realized the sole purpose of the attack.



Drodik looked over at the Rollmaster, who had been obviously troubled although he had not yet been told by what. As they navigated the underground maze below the library, which had remained perfectly intact due to the lack of flammable materials, Drodik felt a strange absence. The massive door that stood before them had been left open. As they swung the door ajar, nothing could prepare them for what they were about to see.



The Chamber of Antiquitites was in a state of disarray, priceless stones tablets lay in fragments on the hard floor, and holocrons had been toppled over from their shattered pillars. However, Drodik could feel that Morotheri knew exactly what had been missing. One holocron in particular, had been stolen. The attackers had succeeded in their devious plot to liberate one of the most powerful artifacts on New Tython.

Surveillance Log #-ID—00679A


…..Initiating Surveillance Log #-ID—00679A…..

—-67%—–89%—99%—100%

===Playing: #-ID—00679A===

Assembly Chamber- Ooroo Abbey- Months Ago

“The K.U.D.F. investigators have failed to find any connection between wanted terrorist Cy Thuron and the New Dawn, Senior Councilors. While our sympathies may resonate with the madmans own, the fact remains true that the cooperation and goodwill of our people clearly indicates that absolutely no connection to the suspected harboring of Mr. Thuron at our settlements exists.”

It was when the black uniformed individual, known as Ozan Miliet, head of the socio-political New Dawn separatist movement lowered his arms in his plea to the council end the ongoing investigation of his people, that a dull silence filled the air of the assembly room.

The vast chamber, the former seat of the Jedi of Urr and cultural battleground of all Tythonians, native and foreign echoed now with the cries of the ghosts who’ve died within its grounds. Erected some years prior under the Jedi, the massive structure befell the onslaught of the combined Brotherhood forces, several attacks during the civil unrest of the previous year and now the politicking to prevent civil war had begun.

The silence lingered.

“The militia are not even professional, Councilors. Home invasions, assaults, thievery, and a fair amount of corruption are plaguing our settlements. Our children are witnesses to the abuse by your subordinates.” Mr. Miliet focused himself as he glared into the eyes of the six Councilors of the Menat Ombo government.

“With no military with which to defend my people Councilors, this needlessly prolonged investigation and our settlements under occupation by units from K.U.D.F. will dare I say be considered an act of war. There is no connection between Cy Thuron and my people Councilors; You have found nothing more than sympathetic ties. The Peoples New Dawn IS a sovereign nation. Withdraw K.U.D.F.”

===End Of Log: #-ID—00679A===

The Edict Of Va’lence

In a galaxy far far away…..



36 ABY- An uneasy peace coats New Tython for the time being.

Rumors have spread of several families and individuals

sneaking away into the night heading toward ‘Blackslope Glen’,

the growing New Dawn settlement near the base of the Central Mountains.

Conversely, a vein of Mon Calamari have migrated into the city in recent

month’s; many of these new citizens taking occupation of homes left vacant.

The city council of Menat Ombo has itself reformed once again,

emerging this time as the ‘Menat Presidium’, and elected longstanding councilman

Adrianus Vibilium as Prime Minister. Chief Whenua, the Harakoan Chieftain

has in the process removed himself from the Council in order to oversee the

scattered tribes not under provision within the Jedi’s Tribal Protectorate .



In reaction to the sudden riots of padawans and masters of Odan-Urr caused

by the Horizons Virus, all Jedi were held within the Jedi Districts under guard

by K.U.D.F. security personnel as part of a self-imposed quarantine by Master

Drodik Va’lence, High Councilor over the Order of Urrian Knights. Using this

opportunity, he established the Arca Conclave of the Order was instituted

to refocus and drive the Jedi to provide for the ever fleeting peace of

New Tython.



Meanwhile a supernova, light-years away imposes its constant presence in the

skies over New Tython, throwing much of the Harakoan citizens into disarray,

specifically the Gioki of whom are Harakoas most ancient people.



Our story begins once more….



Space; over New Tyhthon

A fleet of vessels careened over an expansive contortion of metal and laborers which hung over the atmosphere of the lush planet of the Harakanoids. In constant orbit over the celestial sphere, the complex construction site maintained its presence. Massive beams and compartments stood exposed to the violent vacuum of space whilst construction workers maneuvered precariously in the zero-gravity environment, toiling away as construction of the Sanctuary Space station approached 60% completion.

From the bridge of the hollow space station Jedi Auronn Maysonn looked down to the outside work yard. Behind him approached an obscure figure in attendance with two Tythonian security personnel.

“Progress has been slow, till now.” Auron said to the figure as he looked out to the orbiting Tarenti vessels.

Inside Ooroo Abbey, Menat Ombo, New Tython; Late Evening

A cool breeze licked the placid calm of the city while overhead shone down in full splendor the luminosity of the celestial body Iah, one of Harakoas two lunar satellites. The obsidian backdrop of the evening cooled the temperament of the populace whose convictions had once again gravitated toward anti-Jedi sentiments.

The members of the Presidium looked down from their positions on the panel at the heart of the assembly chamber of Ooroo Abbey. Darkness encircled the architectural cavity and the buzz of the stillness of air radiated throughout providing an ominous tone to the nights secret meeting between the Jedi Council and the Menat Presidium, the governmental body of Menat Ombo.

“The people have labeled this a Rebellion, Masters Jedi. One day you seek to protect this city, failing in your efforts and still here you are. In doing so, many see you as having caused more destruction inadvertently than settling.” The words of Adrianus sunk deep into the Councilors’ ears.

The Tythonian legislator continued,

“Masters Va’lence and Mithfaron, I want you to remember there was a Golden Age of Odan-Urr in the time of Master Ji. A time when your Order facilitated the peace of the people. With his death initiated from this very room, present events bring nothing but sorrow and conflict to our cities avenues.”

Several soldiers from K.U.D.F. appeared behind the Jedi.

“Masters, this panel understands the virulence behind the force contagion from our Dark overseers. But to convince the people of that and of your own legitimate place in our society is an entirely different battle. In the morning, the citizenry will realize this too and decide whether or not you are fit to live within the Menat Ombo District, or whether the Halls and Praxeums you’ve erected are as strong as the will of the people.”

Adrianus motioned towards his fellow Ministers, Kiri, Matiu, Jantine and Gideon as they rose to stand alongside him.

“Restore confidence in your Order Masters, or face exile.” Said Vibilium

With that the Presidium vacated the chamber under escort from the K.U.D.F. soldiers. After the chamber had emptied did the Knights lower their guard.

“We have work to do Master Morotheri. They are right, we have failed to curb secession, left a series of mercenary threats open, and have fallen victim to a force-plague.” said Drodik.

The two exited the Abbey stepping out onto the palisade in the evening sky. Overhead amongst the stars a violent splat of ignited stardust loomed many light-years away. A moment passed as the two Jedi studied the phenomena that captured the entire planets attention for weeks on end.

“What word from Deo?” asked Morotheri.

“The Turicos have summoned us….” said Va’lence as he pointed to the darkest corner of the midnight horizon.

A small amphitheatre outside Arca Praxeum

Silence befell the crowd of Odanites as they awaited the High Councilors arrival in a small stone amphitheatre, hewn into the rock face of the grounds. Several such spaces had been constructed to facilitate teaching lessons. A small fire nestled in a shallow pit whipped with the cold air current as it provided warmth and mellow ambience balanced with the luminosity which showered from I’ah. The breeze continued to push through the space swaying the branches to a tall strange tree at the center of the small amphitheatre.

At last Drodik emerged with Morotheri by his side and the young Elleron at his. The mass of Jedi stood at their arrival. The crowd and the Councilors exchanged bows and silence once again overtook as the Aedile and Rollmasters took their seats as well. The Nagai Councilor strolled in front of the Odanites exchanging quick glances with them each. He disrobed himself revealing a long archaic staff of weathered wood. Taking the staff he handed it to the Kaira who was seated most immediately in front of him. She took the staff and analyzed its detail before passing it to Raiju who was seated next to her and he in turn passed the staff to Alexander DelGotto as Drodik began.

The Jedi spoke,

“Years ago, a tree sprouted in the barren wastes on Nythaspir. It had only branches, and a single leaf. The tree was lonesome for a thousand years; drinking water of the soil in its loneliness. As time crawled on the tree became engorged with water, for the loneliness would not dissipate no matter how much the tree drew from the ground.

Sad at the trees temperament and its own loneliness, the single leaf beckoned the tree to use its water and create more leaves for he too was lonesome. The leaf promised that with more leaves on its barren branches it would never feel loneliness again. The tree reluctantly agreed. He then focused all his energies into creating more leaves, and lo in one passing season the branches of the tree were populated with millions of leaves, all singing in the breeze.

The tree rejoiced and lived in splendor with his new friends until winter had shaken them all dead from his branches. Lonesome once again, the tree slept and slept and slept. When he finally awoke years later the barren waste was barren no longer. In his sleep he had dreamed of his dead leaf friend, meanwhile sprouting countless generations of leaves while he dreamed the years away.

In the years that passed in his dormancy a forest had spread with himself at the center of it. The other trees rejoiced and thanked their ancestor naming him Lord of The Yele-Yele, for that is revered as the tree of creation.”

Drodik retreated to the trunk of the tree behind him placing a hand on the bark.

“This Yele-Yele once spread its roots in the countryside of Va’lence, my home on Nythaspir. I’d heard this tale a thousand times as a child, but only now do I understand it. New Tython, is not our home my friends, it never will be. Our Order must be flexible and mobile, for we are at service to the people, and the people alone. The services we commit towards the protection of the people must outlast our own existence. To provide for the people, and meet the challenges they face we must be strong as a unit, we must be honed in our minds and in our works.”

“I set forth alongside Master Morotheri an initiative in the form of an Edict, a mandate to which I declare for the future of the Order the institution of Professions. You all, no matter your rank or belief have within you a talent entirely untapped as a collective body. In the old system until today, your strengths went unnoticed unless challenged directly from superiors. Your ingenuity and individual potential as Jedi has gone unrecognized on account of your station. The Council of Urr; under my administration and in the spirit of establishing tradition I encourage to my future successors, will exist to facilitate the growth and advancement of the Order.”

As he finished the last member had finished examining the Yele-Yele staff. Drodik took up the staff and held it horizontally at his chest.

“Let this staff be a symbol for the future of our Order, my friends; like its sagacious fibers, we too must unite our wisdom to stand firm. I challenge you to persevere with me and begin a new chapter for our secluded branch.”


The pale Nagai with drew a lightsaber hilt from his side, bent down and penetrated its cyan blade into the soil. Taking the staff he placed it firmly into the soil at the base of the tree where it picturesquely stood straight up between the two diverging branches at the trunk. The High Councilor let the cloak befall his medium frame to which he bowed to the Odanites and finally to the staff itself before retreating from the venue.

Beginning of the Crusade

The Arthos

Hyperspace

The tunneling beauty of hyperspace travel lulled the Nagai Councilor into a fight for his senses. Trading the cold of Khar Delba for the cold of space provided no other benefit than survival for the moment. He sat at the control panel of The Arthos awaiting the ships emergence into its next objective. Somewhere ahead in the mists of hyperspace travel were the inhabitants of the Jedi District, the Odanites stowed within their Gallofree transports, defensless for all but a handful of squadrons. The Disciples of Urr, the surviving first, second and third generations of the Padawans of Ji; ‘What were they doing? Who were they? Where are they going? He thought to himself.

The coldness seemed to seep back into the Nagai as he found himself pondering on the deceased Gand and the legacy of Jedi within the Iron Fist. He reminisced on the day at the Abbey and the horrors unresolved on New Tython.

‘What are we doing here?’ he further questioned, the lull of sleep proving to be a fearsome adversary. What were they doing? They were weak, outnumbered and undersupplied to offset the conquest of the Brotherhood.

His datapad flickered as he read a short status update from Commander Deo Sol:

Entry XX—45- Commander Sol to Councilor Va’lence:

City calm, surrounding homesteads report no further incursions by roaming mercenary force; KUDF patrols remain on alert.

Presidium met with New Dawn delegates 3 days prior; settlement recognized as Blackslope Glen, Commander Abuli en route as escort.

Harakoan tribal leaders from Gioki demand additional conference with Jedi Council; issue of supernova now causing distress in southern plains tribes.

He clicked off the datapad casting it off to the side while he got up to stretch his legs. The short list became a growing concern in his minds’ eye whilst he meditated on the issue. Flashes of the situations danced in his head in a bid to resolve the problems. With the Jedi absence the people could find their stride and identity in the midst of maintaining their sovereignty.

Was it worth the risk? Could KUDF survive further skirmishes? Surely the militants had seen the ships head toward the Sanctuary from Odain, they must know of the Jedi absence. The alarming quietness of New Tython subsided as the ship came out of hyperspace and the sight from the cockpit guaranteed no such promise of sleep now.

The Fall of New Tython pt.1

Yhi System

New Tython

Flames licked from the wooden supports of one of the Iwu Gioki’s ancient huts. It’s thatched roof became a roaring inferno as it blackened and singed, eventually caving into the structure as the frayed bindings split. The sounds of blasterfire mixed in with the thundering of archaic weapons and frantic warcries drowned out the crackling of the fires that now surrounded the Harakoan settlement along the northern slope of the Blue Mountains. Despite their superior position and numbers, the Harakoan’s primitive tactics and obselete weaponry nevertheless set them at a massive disadvantage as small tremors appeared to shake the mountain’s very foundations. The distant sound of trees cracking and splintering under the pressure of advancing artillery and state-of-the-art walkers set what remained of the Harakoan people on edge. Those that presevered struggled against the armor-wearing mercenaries as they found themselves trapped, with no signs of reinforcements to save their existance. A deep rumble drowned out all noise as the artillery came within shelling distance of what remained of the Harakoan’s warriors, opening fire as a barrage of turbolasers and missiles darted across the battlefield, scoring large craters in the mountainside when a massive furrow began to split the mountainous walls with a sickening ‘crack’ that had once protected them from the elements. Those that remained paniced, faced with a choice between two very similar fates: Become buried alive, or surrender.

A loud, ear-piercing screech reverebrated through the valley, bouncing off the crumbling stone walls as the constant barrage of artillery ceased. The Harakoans stared back towards the still artillery as a lone figure emerged from a large armored troop transport behind another, his gun raised in a defensive poisition while he reached for a comlink. Offering it to the figure as he passed by, he handed the communications device to the Officer as he climbed upon a 2-M Saber-class Repulsor Tank. Raising the small device to his mouth, his voice became amplified through a dozen loudspeakers temporarily set up around the perimeter on thin metal supports.

“Tribesmen of the Gioki Tribe!” He shouted, the Harakoans with a startled look of apprehension showing behind their nasal crests, “I have been given permission by Commander Feeux to come to you with an offer. He has granted me with instructions to spare the lives of your tribe in exchange for three individuals. The names and dossiers of which my assistant here has been instrumental in compiling.” He pulled out a datapad and raised it over his head for emphasis.

“The names of which are High Cheiftan Whenua, Minister Matiu, and Minister Kiri. Should you accept these terms and surrender these three individuals, you can walk away from this destruction. Resist or otherwise disobey these orders – and your lives are forefit.” A chill made it’s way through the cratered battlefield as the Harakoans remained silent. One individual stood forward, her nasal crest turning a violent shade of red as she spoke,

“And how would you know if we were harbouring any such individuals? Surely, your Commander Feeux would know better than to assume they would all be in the same place.” A round of whispering filled the settling field as Harakoans nodded their disagreements or approval. Not at all taken aback by the outburst, the Officer let himself indulge in a brief, wide smile.

“I say this because,” He began, looking down at her with a burning intensity as her fellow tribesmen backed away, slowly, “Both of these ministers are right now in my sight. As for your High Cheiftan…” He motioned towards his bodyguard. Raising a hand towards the rear of the troop transport, the burly man lowered the door as he reached into the space, pulling out a bruised individual. The stump of one of his arms was adorned with a band of rope. Smiling again, he turned back to her.

“As for you…” He said, before raising the datapad once again – this time it bore the face of the female Harakoan minister, “You will be placed under arrest. Commander Feeux has plans for you.”

Turning to his bodyguard, he relayed a final order before departing, “Leave a message. Take the ministers and a few tribesmen alive. Kill the rest.”

—-

“Reports have come in from all sectors. The Kotahitanga-Unity Defense Force can’t handle any more losses, Ministers. Recent data indicates that the Harakoan population have taken heavy losses, some of their key settlements have been destroyed. By my estimates, the mercenaries now have a direct route to Menat Ombo. In addition, we have lost all communication with Harakoan ministers Matiu and Kiri while they were attending one of the Harakoan festivals.” Reported former Imperial Intelligence telemetry Officer, Covell Malric. Accustomed to the behavior expeced of him in the Inperial Navy, Covell stood straight, offering a snap-salute before lowering his arms parallel to hs body. The City Council considered the evidence, whispering among themselves before anyone dared to speak out loud.

“And what would you suggest we do, Commander Deo Sol?” Questioned Minister Jantine Coixette, her face a mixture of anger and puzzlement before fading back into the customary political sabbacc-face. Deo Sol considered his options for a moment, but he already knew that the Kotahitanga-Unity Defense Force had met their match. In the grand scale they were outgunned, outmanouvered, and for the most part had less experience than the threat they now faced.

Aware of the fact that anything he suggested could set off a planet-wide panic – or worse, he constructed his next words carefully.

“That, I cannot be certain of. I will mobilize our forces and direct them to defend all key settlements and cities. We will conduct regular meetings via the Holonet to trade status reports, battle strategies, and telemetry data. I would also suggest the evacuation of all minor settlements in the Owyhyee region, so we can better manage our military resources.” He suggested. A more heated round of conversation stirred up again, though the Ministers were no longer whispering among each other. Instead, a heated debate began in which they argued between the two obvious choices: Surrendering or fighting. Suddenly, Minister Jantine turned back to face him, the fire of rage in her eyes as she pointed out the inevitable argument.

“And where are the Jedi in our time of need! It is to my knowledge that they are now conquering worlds with the same people that set about conquering ours, not so long ago! They brought these troubles to New Tython, to our home, and where are they now?” She began, her voice so incredibly stern that each of the other Ministers turned to face her, staring in mixed feelings of disappointment and agreement.

“Transmission is hailing us, ministers. Shall I patch them through?” Covell asked, his fingers positioned near the terminal. “Let’s hear what they have to say.” Prime Minister Adrianus Vibilliun replied, his face betrayed none of his emotions. Despite the Kotahitanga-Unity Defense Force’s rapid disorganization, he managed to stay calm and collective through the entire meeting. Something Covell Malric simply couldn’t understand.

Flickering, the lights dimmed as a hologram was projected onto the table. Instantly, Adrianus lost his previous calmness as it was replaced by shock. The images of tens, hundreds of bodies showed the recent devastation. With a flicker, the image shifted to the tied up forms of all three major leaders in Harakoan society, along with a few dozen other Harakoans.

“Emperor’s black bones…” Jantine managed as she reached to stop the playback.

“Wait.” Prime Minister Adrianus said, catching her hand as he looked into her face while a stream of tears welled up in her eyes, rolling down her cheeks. Turning to the former Intelligence Officer, Adrianus ordered Covell to playback the hologram at half speed. “Stop.” He said, as the hologram paused where the static had been. Barely visible, the image appeared to be of two cloaked individuals, one kneeing at the feet of the other. Struck with a sudden realization, Covell began frantically typing at the console when the image was brought into full focus.

“It’s interlaced with another holo.” He explained, “I’ll see if I can separate them… there.” He said, finishing with a flourish of keystrokes. A short hologram played, different than the one before. This time, the minister could see clearly as the terrible scene unfolded.

“Rise, my apprentice, and let us conquer this pathetic planet. Once they are finished with their ‘Crusade,’ our trap will have been sprung. Together, we will lure the Jedi into the open with our vast promises of bloodshed.” A ghostly voice boomed, his words felt cold and heartless. As the other figure rose, the hologram burst into static. Adrianus Vibilliun seemed to absorb it in grim contemplation for a moment before his concentration was broken by the arrival of a bloodied, panting individual, clad in the garment of the Kotahitanga-Unity Defense Force.

“Ministers. They’re at the gates.”

The Fall of New Tython pt.2

Ooroo Abbey
Observation Post
New Tython

Peace and tranquility had found its home on New Tython. Ushered in by the members of House Odan-Urr, the people had almost forgotten what oppression and tyranny felt like. The memories and scars of conflict had almost healed, only to be ripped open once more. Wind gusted gently, the warmth of the breeze caressing Cy Thuron's face gently. The view from the highest towers of the Ooroo Abbey was a magnificent one, being able to view the whole city once perched on the terrace. He gazed upon his glorious success, his prize jewel laid out before him. The city was his.

Smoke and flames rose upward to the sky, dancing and skipping to an incomprehensible rhythm. The It'kla District was torn apart by the inferno set by his mercenaries, the raw heat wrecking havoc upon the housing and architecture. Windows melted, plants burst into flames, and the terrified shrieks of citizens burst forth. Thuron smiled, his black robe billowing in the wind, his training as a Sith aiding him in this campaign. Burned to his memories were the doctrines and edicts of his order, his Master thoroughly indoctrinating the importance of strength and power.

His carefully laid out and masterfully executed plan bore fruit, he himself seeing this as he watched his mercenaries corralling his enemies into the Memit district, the seedier criminals slipping into the chaos and capitalizing on the fearful citizens. He smiled as his mercenaries laughed at the whimpering cowards who fell prey to the criminals of the Memit district. Villainous pride exuded from every pore as he observed fences being welded together to detain the newly made refugees. Victory, and it tasted sweet.

He gazed upon his army, the various mercenaries fulfilling their duties quickly and efficiently. The city was under his control, which made the Sith almost gleeful. He waved his hands like a maestro, the various chaotic sounds erupting into the air like sweet music. Flames burped up as a gas line ruptured, sending orange light high into the sky. New Tython had fallen, and it fell without a sound. No cry for help, no distress signal that brought aid. Cy Thuron had the city by its throat, and there was nothing anyone could do to stop him. His plan and tactics made sure they would not be able to. He and his men only marched at night, when darkness would cover them like a blanket, completely hidden from prying eyes. Within the shadows, he and his men had congregated on the outskirts of native villages and waited.

Methodically, slowly, the assaulted the Harakoans and caught their chiefs. Those who resisted were butchered. Cy found himself smiling at the memory, him and his mercenaries slicing in the meat of the cerulean skinned savages. The warmth of their blood spraying into the air as vibroblade tore into the muscles, the sweet sensations that came with life slowly leaving a body. The resistance, the tug of a vibroblade, there was nothing more exhilarating. His lightsaber, however, did not have that euphoric feel, instead offering a more delicate decapitation, an art form that Cy was intent to master. Those that were smart and gave in quickly were brought to camps he had ordered his men to create on the outskirts of Menat Ombo. Every now and then a blaster shot could be heard, followed by the sound of a fallen Harakoan.

The flames spread even further within the It'kla district, roaring fires that tore through the residential area and ate up anything it could. The intensity of the inferno grew and grew, some structures collapsing as their interiors were gutted by the flames. Cy Thuron had caused all of this, the wondrous chaos that sprang from the inability of those in power to hear the peoples demands. He watched his mercenaries work, a blood red sky hanging over them. As he watched and reflected upon his sweet tasting victory, his eyes couldn't help but catch jumps of light, sparkles that twinkled to life in the distance. His smile only grew, knowing these arrivals would only further please his master.

X-Wing Cockpit
New Tython Space
New Tython

The abyss of space was infinite, embracing any and everything that found itself within it. Liam Torun found himself inside a cockput of an X-Wing, the humming sound of his engines almost silent in the void of space. Behind him was a large formation of Jedi snub fighters, House Odan-Urr following their leader. Something felt wrong, Liam's stomach churned with uneasiness and his mind reeled with pain and misery, sensing the emotions of those on the planet below. He reached out with his mind, trying to calm his nerves and focus. He felt a powerful disturbance, as if life was being scorched away on New Tython. He felt the living energy of its denizens being scrubbed away by a malicious entity, but he wasn't sure if these were feelings of what is to come or what has come. He could sense a large population centralized around Menat Ombo, and he felt as if that was were the disturbance was at its strongest. He began to open up comm channels, fingers flicking various signals and buttons, alerting his team to their new heading.

“Menat Ombo is where we're headed. Prepare for anything, something is not right down there. Something dark.” said Torun as he prepared to approach The Sanctuary, New Tython's space station.

Before he could even open a comm channel, however, The Sanctuary began to open fire. Plasma burped forth from sme turrets, ion being slung from others. Torun and his team reacted quickly, the Force allowing them to dart to and fro and dodge the onslaught. Orange light splashed against the blackness of space, bathing fighters in the aftermath of an exploding snub fighter. Torun used the Force to enhance his flying, dodging one blast to barrel roll away from another. Banking hard, he could smell the stench of ozone as a bolt of plasma skinned his underbelly. From his peripheral vision he saw the maneuvering of his teammates, feeling the Force working through them all. As one, they dodged the volley of fire from the station, finally breaking away into the depths of space.

As they left the firing range of the station, Torun and his fighters had barely enough time to catch their breath as Thuron's fleet of mercenary frigates and cruisers made their way into view. The sinking feeling of having hope crushed began to swirl within Liam, who was trying his best to stay calm and focused.

“Out of the frying pan and into the fire.” Sight's voice was tense as he whirled around, his B-wing straining against the sudden cut-back of its engines.

“No way we'd survive an encounter against that. Straight down is where we are headed. Head for the planet, there was a distress beacon that was deactivated near a military outpost just before our communications with the planet were silenced. That's where we'll head.” said Torun.

New Tython
Far outskirts of Menat Ombo
Planetary Midnight

Traveling as fast as their speeder bikes could carry them, the Summit led a swarm of Jedi towards their city. Their bikes moaned and squealed as they whizzed along the planet's surface, clouds of dust kicked up into the blanket of night. Their arrival was hidden by the night sky, the light of the moon shrouded in clouds, the stars practically absent. Elleron, Morotheri, and Liam kept their eyes on the prize, trying their best to make sure their city was safe. Pits lay at all their stomach, fearful of what may have happened to those that were in the city if something terrible did happen. Hope still shone in their hearts, as the fate of the city was uncertain to them all. Jedi never gave up hope when there was still a shred of hope left, and Jedi is what they were.

“It doesn't look good. Think we'll make it?” asked Morotheri, slaloming out of the way of a rock, the mechanics of the bike whirring as it adjusted its course.

Liam looked him the eyes but could say nothing. The ability to speak had left Torun, his features instead doing his talking for him. He could only return a sorrowful stare at his friend before he accelerated further. Morotheri began to feel as if they're already too late. That last shred of hope may have just left.

The Fall of New Tython pt.3

Menat Ombo
It'kla District Ruins

His eyes were but vestigial sockets, dry hollows wrapped by cloth. That didn't stop the tear from leaking down Morotheri's cheek.

He had seen destruction before, during the Brotherhood's invasion and the conflicts to follow. He had seen the eddies of the Force as they curled across scarred plains and broken vistas, watched as life criss-crossed them and died. This was different; this was nothingness, absence. Thuron's mercenaries had set to work with propellant and flame, blasting apart building and structure and superheating it until brick turned to liquid and vapour. The ambient Force energy flowed over and through, but collected in nothing; no flickers from the bacteria that might collect on surfaces, no faint pulse of seed or living cell.

Cy Thuron had managed to kill everything, down to the very last microbe, in the It'kla District.

Morotheri's feet strode through what had once been a street, heat and ash buffetting his face. The Force's whispery glow usually flowed about like air currents; here, they seemed to swirl and twist, the echoes of the wrongs committed here bending them into horror and strife. The twisted frames of what had been people could be seen here and there, burnt until their flesh turned to char and their bones snapped and popped from the heat. He could feel the horror; here, a man had been beaten into submission and forced to endure horrific pain. There, a woman had been dragged away to the shadows, her dignity taken alongside her innocence by the wickedness of guns for hire.

He stopped, a piercing shiver cascading through him. Here, the Force told him, a little girl had refused to give up. She'd been beaten to death by riflemen, screaming for help until she could no longer talk.

The calm control of a Jedi shuddered within Morotheri; he felt ripples of anger pulse through him, the Force flowing into him and twisting under the inevitable hatred. The sound of a nearby shout, of boots approaching, send embers into a wildfire within him.

"There's another one!" The mercenary cried out. "Soldiers, engage him no- Agh!!" His voice turned into a scream as the Force smashed into his chest like a wrecking ball, turning ribs into shattered glass.

Morotheri's lightsaber raged to life, the Miraluka crying out as he knocked back the bolts of four men. This time, though, he did not stop; anger filled him, a dark strength blackening his mind the way crude oil might putrify a pool of water. The soldiers sprinted to fan out, as they'd been trained; it made no difference, one falling as one of his own bolts crashed through his eye. His peers, left and right, screamed as the lightsaber took one man at the waist, striking up to lop half of a skull away. Its owner fell to the ground, twitching and convulsing, his nervous system in irreparable shock.

Mithfaron's blade crashed through the metal of the last man's gun, turning it to scalding steam as the blade's tip carved a line up his cheek. He fell back with a scream, yanking off his sparking helmet and throwing it aside. Scurrying backward, his skin swelling up and blistered around the blackened wound, he hit the charred bricks of the walls he had helped to destroy.

"Please," He wept, tears pouring from his eyes. "It was just a job. I didn't even know these people!" The Miraluka growled, lifting his blade for the kill. "Please!"

He held it there, looking down on the being, seeing the darkness within cower back into the shimmering light of his essence; it always did, when bested by a being of Light. His grip tightened, but wavered; to kill men in the heat of battle, when they fought back? That was easy. What stood before him was a cold kill, retribution for destruction, horror, and death.

There is no Death, The words of Odan-Urr echoed through Morotheri's head, There is only the Force.

The Mercenary yelped feebly, covering his face and tensing up with dread; the slurp of Morotheri's blade deactivating made him look up slowly, disbelief on his face. "I... I thought you'd kill me." He said, whimpering. "I thought you hated us."

"I do," The Miraluka replied, a look of disgust on his face, "But I'm not the monster here." His leather boot made the soldier's world go back, as he was kicked out of consciousness.

Memit District
Abandoned Building
Jedi Rally Point

Liam's creased face got a look of displeasure to it as he drew his saber, its green blade illuminating the dim confines of the house. "I cannot save it. I must remove the arm."

The Harakoan, his blue face once proud but now haggard and pale, nodded. "Do it quickly," He said, his accent showing inflections of acceptance as he closed his eyes and gritted his teeth.

The old man nodded, drawing his blade up and through the sinews carefully, mitigating the damages. To his credit, the humanoid barely groaned as the pain of a thousand suns turned infected flesh into vapour. The Consular was quick to close down the blade, closing his eyes and clasping the stump as he poured the healing aura of the Force into the wound.

"Liam," Elleron's voice was at once boyish in sound and ancient in gravity. "Morotheri has returned."

The older man nodded, standing with a faint grimace as old knees creaked against a lifetime of weakened cartilage. The Jedi had infiltrated Memit District through hard-earned distractions, ones that still continued; here and there, Jedi operated to draw attention away from Memit, disabling machines and neutralizing soldiers. It was necessary, but it still saddened Liam; his fortitude was a product of age, of seeing and living through the Clone Wars. The Jedi had been tested, and many had fallen, if only briefly. Many had caressed the power of the Dark Side.

"What's the situation?" Liam asked his Aedile, striding up to the man. He was shaken, within and without.

"It's gone. They've burned it to the ground," Mithfaron said coldly, frowning with pain. "Every last microbe and cell within It'kla fell to the flames. Visulu Market has become a proper compound; even with our strikes, our attacks and interferences, a true garrison is in place. The city is theirs."

"Peace, my friend," Liam said, placing a calming hand on the younger's shoulder. "In time, life will return to the District. Cy Thuron follows darkness, the path of domination, and such tyrants can never last." His eyes conveyed the tested, steel-forged calm of a man in his twilight, a man who had seen truth. "What of the people? Can we get them out?"

"Not all of them, and not without earning it." Morotheri replied. "The spaceport's been fortified with the heaviest of cannons and forces; nothing's getting out of there without being blasted apart. The Arthos and the Gallofree transport are there, but they're locked down pretty heavily; our options are limited." Morotheri looked at Torun, his face almost begging. "We could flee to the wilds, take the people with us. We could fight the good fight and resist."

Liam shook his head. "That is a fool's course, Morotheri, and you know it. Everywhere the people went, these mercenaries would follow; we would draw down the full wrath of Thuron's guns, and if we succeeded, it would leave this world in ruins. All the while, the Brotherhood's dark power would grow unchecked, to descend where this tyrant had left off and finish us."

"And what difference does it make if we leave?" Morotheri asked, anger bubbling up in him again. "The mercenaries cover the world? Thuron's control becomes absolute?"

"Yes," The older man said, a note of finality in his voice. "His control becomes complete. He intends to rule these people, and though oppressed, they will survive under the dictat of a ruler. All other roads lead to the death of all that we could save."

Morotheri turned away, fury glowing inside of him; it faded to acceptance. Liam was right; the people were scattered and defeated, and the Jedi would only expend resources and power that they did not have to stay and fight. "What's our plan?"

Liam thought for a moment, before smiling to himself. "You mentioned that the spaceport was heavily guarded?"

"Yes," Morotheri replied, caution in his voice. "What are you thinking?"

"That it's time to hit back," Liam replied, his old face wrinkling with his grin. "Find Sight and Raiju, tell them to be ready. We're going to Ordain Vorono."

Ordain Vorono Spaceport
Surrounding District
Civilian Rooftop, Garrisoned

Mikkel yawned, stretching and leaning against the turret. "C'mon, Sym. One sip wouldn't hurt."

"Damnit, Mikkel," Sym replied from behind the weapons system, his hands coated in grease. The missile systems weren't cooperating. "You heard the Captain. We lose a day's pay if we're caught drinking. Two days if it's that Corellian slag you like."

"What?" It's good whiskey." Mikkel said, walking to the edge of the rooftop and leaning over the edge. "I don't care what the Captain says. We get this place locked down, I'm hitting the cups. You in?" No one answered. Slowly, lifting his rifle, he turned. "Sym?"

The man was gone; Mikkel hadn't heard a thing. His hand went for the radio mounted to his chest; a yellow blade growled as it punched through his ribs from behind, the man barely able to groan as the world went black. Raiju deactivated the weapon, catching his query before he could thud to the ground.

He hoisted a radio, looking to the adjacent rooftop. "Sight, do you copy?"

There was no reply; instead, the albino's blade flickered to life, carving through the mooring of the turret he'd attacked. The weapon disabled, Kang watched as he leapt from the rooftop, joining the mass of cloaked figures as they struck at fortifications and targets. No hesitation, no prisoners, and no mercy. What they did that night would be dangerously close to Darkness.

It was also necessary, the lives of a couple hundred mercenaries spent to save thousands of refugee lives. "Allusis, move in and engage," He said, before dropping back to the darkness of the alleyways below.

The Fall of New Tython pt.4

Ooroo Abbey
Former Council Chambers
Throne Room

"My lord!" The mercenary shouted, running into the Throne Room. Cy quickly snapped the holocommunicator shut, its blue figurine disappearing.

"What is it?" He snapped, a growl hidden within his voice. He would need to teach his subjects to announce themselves; his Master did not care to be seen.

The reports had been coming in for hours, ever since dawn; soldiers and patrols had gone missing, a few bodies even discovered. Vehicles, equipment, and supplies had been stolen or destroyed; small rations of food or weaponry were being stolen. The mercenaries had reassured him that there was nothing to worry about, that it was likely a handful of Harakoans or settlers acting up against the group. Thuron had his own theory.

It was vindicated with the soldier's report. "Our signal tower just went down, so we sent a lookout to the Spaceport district," He said, clearly out of breath. "All of our anti-air defenses are down. Our communications equipment has been crippled, and our guards there are captive or worse. We're under attack."

Cy stood up, his lightsaber flipping off of his belt to rest in the palm of his hand. "The Jedi are here. Rally your men, soldier; fortify our defenses on the walls for a full-scale assault, and send any soldiers you have left to Ordain Vorono." Strode toward the soldier as he spoke, limbering himself up for the coming assault. "Send word to Sanctuary, tell them Lord Thuron authorizes fighter and bomber support to be deployed here immediately. Position the fleet to prevent anything from taking off."

The soldier saluted. "Yes, my Lord." They'd learned not to question him awhile earlier, when he'd thrown a man from the Abbey's highest peak for arguing.

Abbey, He thought to himself, looking at his new chambers. Such a dull word. What a Lord deserves is a Palace.

Ordain Vorono Spaceport
Makeshift Evacuation Site

"Next," Sight called, his red eyes looking over the ragged survivors. He could remember a time when colonists and Harakoans had held bitterness toward one another; now, cold and hungry, all were equal. It crushed him that this was what it had taken. "Come along, now. We've got to get moving."

Glancing back, he saw Morotheri, Elleron, and Raiju all checking over other survivors, while Liam led the efforts of the Jedi healers in the group. The old man moved with the same speed as the Padawans in the group, bringing food and medicine to those that needed it. No one was fully treated; they just had to be stable for transport.

He turned to see to the next survivor, and the world turned to noise.

Gravity, solid ground, balance; these things became words, terms that meant less than nothing. Sight's skin burned and blistered, bits of screaming-hot steel burning his face and into his robes. He hit the ground hard and rolled, the only sound he could hear a dull ringing as bits of the survivor in front of him fell before his eyes. He sat up by reflex, his vision blurry as he saw lightsabers flare silently to life, battering back noiseless blaster bolts. Black-armored mercenaries poured over barricades built of anything the Jedi could find, bombs raining down from distant launchers.

Sound began to return as Raiju pulled him to his feet. "Sight, are you alright?!" He yelled. "Come on! We're under attack!"

Nortorshin nodded dully, fumbling for his blade and rushing toward the chaos.

The Fall of New Tython pt.5

CONCLUSION

Unknown Wild Planet
Status: Habitable
Harakoan Refugee Camp
36 ABY

"That's the last of them," Sight said tiredly, watching as yet another person departed the shuttle. Four thousand refugees had attempted to get to the evac site; two thousand and thirty three had made it. "Poor wretches."

Liam nodded, looking haggard for the first time since any had seen him. Normally, he gave the impression of a wise old oak tree; today, he was a worn-out robe. "Well, let's get to work; we need a secure camp and drills set up. We've only got until week's end."

Sight's crimson eyes snapped over to his Quaestor, his albino skin almost dark under soot, filth, and blood stains. "Until week's end? We're going back to Sith space?"

Liam nodded; Morotheri, Raiju, and Tur'el regarded him as he spoke, before hopping to duty. "The Brotherhood doesn't rest; neither can we. These people are safe, and some are warriors. With a bit of practice, they will be able to survive out here until we come back." He looked at the younger man, sending a wave of cooling thoughts toward his disbelief. "At peace, my friend. We will return, I promise you. But right now, we need the means to our end. We need the forces to retake the planet."

Sight sighed, but nodded, looking over the survivors. Even dressed in rags, bruised, battered, and filthy, they hopped to work. It was the power of hope in motion; these people had a goal. They had a job to do. "We'd better."

New Tython
The Wilderness, Undisclosed Location

"What do we do now?" The blue-skinned man asked his peers. Formerly, other Harakoans would have met his gaze; today, he sat in circle with two of his own kin, three humans, a Mon Cal, and a Wookiee. None had been spared.

"What can we do?" A human asked. "The Jedi are gone, the planet has fallen, and no Republic is coming to save us." His look of despair was complete. "Serving the Sith would have been better."

The Wookiee growled something, and the Mon Cal nodded his head. "Don't say that. The Sith would make us slaves, or worse. At least here, we are free."

"Free to do what?" A second human asked, looking around. "Maybe a couple thousand got out of the cities. Maybe. And we're scattered, no food or supplies, no tools to help us survive. The people we meet will likely do worse than the enemy."

"There is only one thing we can do, child," An elder Harakoan replied. The other two present bowed their heads as he spoke, a sign of respect. "Keep our strength, stay alive. And wait for them to come back." He gazed at the stars, and in that moment, the hope in his eyes spread to them all.

The Jedi would return. They had to.


New Tython
Ooroo Abbey Ruins

Cy Thuron's thrumming weapon painted the dark antechamber in a bloody haze, the bodies of mercenary captains and enemies alike strewn across the floor. He deactivated it, letting out a sigh of relief.

"You," He snapped, pointing to the man standing in the doorway. He bore no helmet. "You survived a Jedi attack, encountered one of them and lived. You will prove useful; consider yourself promoted." He looked to the man. "I appoint you High Guardsman of the New Dawn. Get my planet in order, and spare no one who rebels."

Alek stepped up; the bandages across his eye and face took the vision from his right eye, but luckily, the Miraluka had spared him. Lord Thuron, however, didn't need to know that part. "Sir," He said, grinning, "It would be my pleasure."

Renewal of Hope pt.1

Corellian Sector

Corellian System

Talus Orbit


The YCHT Arthos was once again a hive of activity with officers and crew members scrambling across the ship’s converted decks in droves. Liam Torun strode the decorated halls, not stopping to admire the few surviving New Tythonian pieces of artwork lining the walls. To him, they seemed like forgotten relics from another age, a time long past. A grin that could perhaps be best described as ‘devilish’ crossed his lips while he contemplated his next move on the dejarik board. The return to New Tython. Or more specifically, the acquisition of the resources to do so.


Since Cy Thuron’s aggressive takeover of their beloved planet, the Knights of Odan-Urr have waged war against the Brotherhood and One Sith deep in Sith Space. Those few inhabitants that had been saved from the wrath of Cy’s mercenary legions now dwelled in some backwater hovel, eager for their return to their homeworld. Though the intentions of the mysterious Sith, Cy’s assumed master, was still unknown to them, Liam Torun was confident that the Sith would soon be driven from New Tython; The only questions that remained lied in resources.


Admittedly, the mission had begun from a somewhat thin lead that stemmed from one of A’lora Kituri’s visions. Despite the questionable nature of visions supplied by the Force, the Togruta farseer was adamant that Talus could yield something of significant value in House Odan-Urr’s campaign to reclaim their lost homeworld. For weeks, Liam’s informants had scraped together any information they could on the current events surrounding the Twin Planet. Sure enough, the Togruta’s predictions proved correct and the fleet had moved to Talus, where an ever-growing rebellion was mounting a quiet resistance, in protest of the newly-established Sector Defense Limits. The Corellians of Talus had decided that ceilings on military forces and their capabilities, as well as limiting their abilities to strike trade agreements were reason enough to act of their own volition in protest, thus a secretive resistance was established, discreetly avoiding the eyes and ears of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances. Slowly, Talus was militarizing their world in an underground resistance, and the Galactic Federation’s seizure of credits to defend it’s far-flung holdings and the rebuilding of Coruscant had been the last nail in the coffin.


The scurrying of footsteps were audible behind the High Councillor, making no attempt to muffle the sound in such a solemn and professional environment. Falling in step beside the High Councillor, a dishevelled officer clutched at an assorted pile of datapads, flimsiplast documents and holovid recordings. “Sir! The intel from Talus has just arrived. Apparently your contact on the surface came through, after all.” The young officer spoke in hurried, wheezing breaths. Likely in his late twenties, the officer’s face was red with exhaustion and his uniform drenched in sweat. Liam broke his pace for a minute to allow the younger man to collect himself. Graciously, the man plopped down on a nearby supply crate, taking a moment to wipe the sweat from his brow.


“Liam! The Kotahitanga-Unity Defense Force is prepared, and each division already has their objectives. So, I take it we’re to silence the uproar that’s surrounding Talus, ‘borrow’ a few of their fighters and give those mercs a sizable beating, in good Corellian sense?” A gruff voice sounded, not far behind them in the corridor. Craning his neck to face the newcomer, the High Councillor nodded. “Our mission’s primary mandate lies in the neutralization of a rebellion, of sorts.”


The red-faced officer tilted his head up at the two conversing Jedi, holding out a datapad for each of them. Tactical readouts began rolling across the screen before the officer changed the information’s view to a holovid recording from Talus’ surface. The title of the video feed appeared on both Jedi’s datapads, followed by a short holovid.


[//Recording 251//]


The image appeared on both datapads following a burst of static. The interior of a massive, industrialized structure filled the screen. The entire structure resembled that of a large hangar bay, filled beyond the recording’s limited view with countless starships of many kinds, in varying stages of completion. Crews of personnel worked with ruthless efficiency, welding the hulls of various starships while others focused on arming the ships with the latest in military technology, proton torpedos and armaments. The structure itself appeared to be made completely of Durasteel, while only a portion of the expanse was lit from overhead.

The view changed again, this time revealing what had appeared to be a pit cut deep below the planet’s surface. Within the oculus opened to Talus’ depths, a large platform rose from the blackness of the pit’s vast length, stopping midway along the chute. Sliding along on a pair of industrial wheels, a portion of the pit’s wall opened up like a gaping maw. Rolling within the holovid’s limited range, a trio of T-65XJ3 X-wing starfighters emerged from its jaws into view atop the platform. Once all three of the mint-condition starfighters were safely aboard the platform, the platform continued its ascent while a team of inspectors carefully examined each model before takeoff.

An impressed smirk crossed Lyze Kiel’s face before the Corellian lifted his hand to his scruffy beard, in an effort to conceal his admiration of the rebels. Instead, he let out a slow whistle. “That’s Corellian engineering. I have to say, i’m impressed, never seen that many starships in one place. When do we teach these mynocks a lesson? I’m itching for a good brawl or two.”

The slow, steady clacking of boots filled the cramped space before the trio craned their necks towards the lavender-skinned Togruta. “I think I have made myself abundantly clear, Kiel, when I gave the order that violence is to be avoided whenever possible. Besides, we don’t have the soldiers for a full-scale invasion, most have been left on New Tython in the escape. Our strategies will lie in diplomacy, subtilty and covert invasions, not target practice or ‘mynock hunting.’ These people are comprised of mostly innocents, those who believe that protesting against the Sector Defense Limits is in Talus’ best interests. Besides, we don’t want to draw attention to Talus by amassing a large fleet in orbit.” She admonished, her voice stern but surprisingly even.

“Alright, just don’t go all high-and-mighty on me when this is done and over with. Wouldn’t want you to turn any shade darker.” He jested, in a half-joking, half-offended comment. All the Corellian received in response was an annoyed groan before the Togruta started down the hallway to pour over tactical readouts and telemetry data.

Grinning from ear to ear, the Corellian turned his attention back to the High Councillor after watching the Togruta vacate the hall. “I might have found her presence comforting, if she wasn’t always so… cold.” A fleeting smile cracked across the High Councillor’s face in response, before the intercom buzzed.

“Don’t take it personally, Lyze, she has a lot on her mind since leaving the Order.” An unmistakable female voice commented from overhead.

“V’yr, have you been listening to this entire conversation?” Liam queried, a puzzled expression rolling across his face.

“More or less. Talus security is hailing us. Shall I send them our identification?”

“No, tell them we’ve had a… hyperdrive malfunction, and that their next shipment of supplies will be there shortly. We don’t want to be docking within the main spaceport, but it should buy us some time to get closer to surface without the resistance shutting us down. With only a handful of ships, they should buy the fact that we’re guarding a few shuttles filled with materiel for their resistance.” The Corellian recommended, leaning back comfortably on the crate, “Believe me, I must have used the same excuse a dozen times. It’ll work.” He said with the charming wink so common amongst scoundrels.


Corellian Sector

Corellian System

Talus


“Governor Garon, an unidentified fleet has entered orbit on Talus. We have sent a scouting party to intercept their vessels until their identification is run through the appropriate channels.” A crimson-clad man relayed, his posture that of a well-trained soldier. Offering the larger man a formal salute, he awaited further orders.


Relaxing comfortably beside the transparisteel window of his private office in a chair given to him as a gift from his shady benefactor, the older man’s mind was elsewhere. Surely the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances couldn't have become so foolish as to invade the Corellian System, with a fleet, no less. The implications of such an event would end in a catastrophe for the Galactic Federation - A very profitable one, at that. The Governor himself had no real issue with the Sector Defense Limits, though it proved to be a convenient occurrence he could easily exploit to further his own wealth and power. Winning over the hearts and minds of Talus’ citizens had become much too easy. Within the course of a few months, he had instilled his own goals into the minds of everyone who followed him. Now, the majority of Talus’ citizens were crying out in protest of the Sector Defense limits, blaming the Galactic Alliance for the loss of Talus’ resources, limitations on their fleet manufacturing capabilities and military might. Manipulating current events was well within his speciality, and nothing was outside the realm of reason. In reality, the vast majority of Talus’ lost resources had been funnelled back into Garon’s private accounts, funding his impending war on the Galactic Federation.


Instinctively as if guided by reflex, he moved a hand to the dejarik board sitting on its own elevated pedestal. Not six months ago, a mysterious benefactor had established contact through some of his private connections. Representing some secretive organization referred to as the ‘Brotherhood’ on the fringes of known space, the cloaked figure had made an offer he simply could not refuse.


Even if he tried.


His hand glided across the dejarik board, forcing his K’lor’slug into position. The holomonster skittered into position, successfully depriving the simulation of its Monnok.


Over the course of the next four months, enormous amounts of credits were transferred to his private accounts, funneling their way past bribed officials and ignorant politicians, none of whom had ever seen the Governor as a threat to Corellian society. They were wrong, of course. In a sure bid for power and wealth, Garon had provided his supporters with the means to protest against the restrictions placed on Talus’ military defenses and trade agreements. Soon, his hidden fleet would be unveiled and the Galactic Federation would swoop in to quell the riots. By then, others would take notice and follow in his footsteps. War was a profitable thing.


The simulated opponent moved its holographics Ng’ok into a defensive position against the threatening K’lor’slug. While the simulation’s strategy was sound and could beat any novice to dejarik in a few moves, the obvious trap was evident. Instead, he moved the piece representing a Kintan Strider into the open - a risky but ambitious move. Wetting his lips with the strong beverage of expensive Corellian brandy in his free hand, the soothing alcohol tracing its way down his throat, the Governor lowered his voice to a baritone.


“Interesting....” He pondered, setting down the short glass with a muffled thud and reaching for the vintage bottle, “It seems someone has come to investigate our resistance. Let them into Talus’ orbit. If they refuse to provide their identification, we have every right to fire upon an unidentified threat without suspicion from the Galactic Alliance.”


“As you command, Sir!”


Once his subordinate vacated the room, he turned his full attention to the dejarik board. Thus far, his moves had been based on instinct - mere reflex. His simulated enemy had taken the bait. Standing idle in the spot his Kintan Strider had previously occupied, his opponent’s Molator now stood - a crippling blow for most. As the holo-generated Ghhhk avenged the fallen Strider, he smiled in satisfaction, having completely eliminated the opposition. Dejarik was a game to be appreciated by its players. A single move could tell much about your enemies, as well as yourself.


Corellian Sector

Corellian System

Talus Approach


“Unidentified fleet, this is Commander Yaris, we have requested your documentation. Comply, and we will see no reason to consider your ships as a threat. A patrol has been dispatched to escort you to the nearest Spaceport. Comply with these orders, or you will be fired upon with extreme prejudice. This is your final warning.” The message had been heard several times before over the Arthos’ loudspeakers.


A worried Neti sat awkwardly at her console, finding the eerie metallic atmosphere to be a strange transition from the spacious forests of Myrkyr. A grin expression came over her face as her eyes darted between the colored blips picked up by the fleet’s sensors. “Not the most friendly warning, but I’ve had worse. What’s the plan, before this mismatch of vessels is blown into space debris?”


Liam leaned over the tree-like figure, examining the glowing icons with a practiced eye. Their only immediate threat, it seemed was a trio of top-of-the-line XJ3 X-Wings, which had formed a wedge directly in front of the Arthos, several kilometers in the distance. With the Yacht’s forward-mounted turbolaser, the three ships could be easily pulverized into nothing more than specks of dust, though somehow, the High Councillor knew that the trio’s positioning was of little coincidence. If they had taken the first shots, it would be considered an act of war against Talus, and the planet was likely to have planetary defenses aimed directly at them. He sensed it through the Force - turbolasers half-hidden within the planet’s surface, ready to strike the killing blow. It didn’t take long for the High Councillor to fully grasp the situation - Their cover was blown.


Taking a deep breath, Liam clicked on the ship’s intercom, connecting to the fleet’s frequency. “All ships, move for the supplied coordinates immediately. Do not attack the patrol, we will regroup at the rendezvous point. Good luck, and may the Force be with you.”


The roaring of dozens of small engines blazed to existence, fighters jinked and juked in all directions, while the larger troop transports barrelled towards the rendezvous point under the cover of countless outdated starfighters. The patrol had simply disappeared, their appearance obviously staged in hopes that the ships would be fired upon, returning to the safety guaranteed by the Spaceport defenses while deadly streams of turbolaser fire began carving deadly trails of crimson from the planet’s surface.


“So much for the element of surprise.” Revak observed, from the vantage point of a Y-Wing cockpit. “Call of Freedom Squadron, break into shielding trios and move into position around the troop transports.” He ordered, turning his Y-Wing’s controls to narrowly avoid the wreckage of an X-Wing that had taken several direct hits to its hull, exploding into shards of ceramic and durasteel. His cockpit rocked while the ship spun in evasive maneuvers, the R5 droid whirring in protest. Fortunately, the pilot had gone EV, and was later retrieved by one of the fleet’s Lambda-Class shuttles. Pulling his fighter into an upwards spiral, he levelled out, perfectly matching the speed of a passing shield trio.


“Close one, Freedom Leader.” A voice chimed in from the holocom, while an X-wing pulled into view beside him, its pilot taking a concerned glance in his direction. “That was my wingmate. Any chance I can tag with you guys?” Another voice buzzed over the holocom, “Fine with me, be careful, Freedom Leader. We’ll get you on the ground safely.”


Within minutes, the turbolaser fire ceased to continue, unable to make such adjustments with their half-concealed construction, though not before one of the deadly bolts struck the engines of the Y-Wing. A violent rattle shook the Sentinel’s Y-Wing upon entering atmosphere, the sheer force of it nearly rendering him unconscious. Warning indicators began pulsating in hues of red and orange, coupled with the panicked mechanical screeches of the R5 droid acting as the Miraluka’s copilot.


“I know, R5.” He asserted, “We must have took a chunk of shrapnel back there. I’ll try to guide us in - try to get the repulsors working.”


“There is no death, there is the Force.” He recounted, before another, more violent jolt shook the craft. Thankfully, the ship had miraculously been guided by the combined efforts of Jedi to one of Talus’ vast shorelines, where it skimmed along the soft surface before the landing gear gave way, sending the craft into a forwards roll.


“Revak, can you hear me?” A female voice said through a mountain of static. Taking a moment to gain a sense of his surroundings unstrap himself from the harness, Revak fell forwards, groaning in pain when his back hit the shattered inside of the shattered canopy. He winced in pain as shards of transparisteel pierced his back and arms, cutting into the flesh. Reaching a finger to the console, he keyed in his beacon, alerting the fleet of his position. “Yeah, i’m here, though I think i’ll rest a moment. Need some time to drop into a hibernation trance.”


Kaira smiled. It had been the first time since the relocation of New Tython’s refugees when she had felt such a burden lifted from her shoulders. The knowledge of her daughter’s safety not long ago had much the same effect. “We’ll send someone down. General A’lora tells me the forests nearby seem secure. We’ll rendezvous in the morning.” She paused, “May the Force be with you.”


Corellian System

Talus

Tythonian Militia Encampment


The day was growing late. The fleeting rays of Corell’s light had disappeared beyond the horizon, obscured by the vast treeline that now served to conceal the Tythonian militia. To the east beyond the treeline lay a wide shoreline, as far as the eye could see. To the west, Talus’ largest city fortified themselves, constructing massive bunkers designed to conceal their turbolaser emplacements.


Weariness had set in. The majority of the Tythonian militia had begun to rest in large, camouflaged tents set up in rows, hidden in the shadows of the dense forest engulfing them, like a miniscule island in a vast ocean. Those few who patrolled in the night had built great bonfires to ward of the chill carried from the oceans to the east, where a bruised Miraluka was pulled from the wreckage of a crashed Y-Wing. With the aid of the Force, Revak had quickly recovered from his injuries, his torn back and forearms mended by herbalists and Jedi Healers. A lone Neti meditated in the warmth of a small campfire, the moisture carried from the nearby ocean soaking into her bark-like skin, softening it while she rested in a still, tree-like state.


“V’yr?” A voice called out amid the crackling of the fire as it was slowly consumed by the hungry flames. The Neti awoke from her tree-like state, seeming to shrink as she returned to a humanoid form. The once-massive boughs had reduced to form a set of limbs of average size. It was unsettling how similar the Neti appeared in comparison to the stories the Togruta had been told as a child on Shili, of massive tree-like beings who would scare off the pack hunters.


“Councillor A’lora. Is there anything I can do for you?” The older woman offered with a formal bow, almost extravagantly so. The lavender-skinned figure only stared into the distance, examining the landscape as if in a trance. It reminded her of home, the vast forests and dangerous wildlife.


“Councillor A’lora?” The voice repeated, “I’ll check on the patrols. The night is growing cold, you should return to your tent. I’ll continue to keep a vigilant eye. I have rested long enough.” With that, the woman stalked away on long, ligneous legs. The younger woman took some time to meditate before whispering her thanks. In truth, she was worried. Some visions that plagued her mind had not yet come to pass, though she was aware that the future was always in motion, and nothing was certain.

Renewal of Hope pt.2

Corellian System

Talus

Industrial Sector


Plumes of thick smoke rose from the tallest of Talus’ buildings, settling like a dense fog and obscuring the flawlessly clear sky above it. The industrial sector was a hive of activity as mechanics and Corellian labourers worked relentlessly for their next pay stub. To the untrained eye, everything about the scene seemed completely normal, a deliberate illusion created with the intention of leaving the Galactic Alliance completely oblivious to the amassing resistance beneath the surface. However, through his macrobinoculars, Canis Loopus noted a heavily armed ‘security’ force around the perimeter. Each of the armed guards stood as still and straight as ancient Monoliths, hidden in the shadows cast by factories used in the fabrication of starship parts.


Scanning the area for more anomalies, the Guardian picked up on a convoy of armed soldiers, each of them armed to the teeth with the latest in Corellian technology. Each troop was positioned around an oversized hoversled carrying a large cylindrical container.


“That’s no container…” He realized, muttering the words to himself while he adjusted the macrobinoculars for a better picture, “...That’s a kriffing warhead.”


Corellian System

Talus

Garon’s Private Offices


“Sir, our turbolasers were unable to destroy the orbiting fleet. Its like they anticipated our every shot.” A turbolaser gunner informed. Faced away from the quivering gunner, Garon reclined in his prized throne, taking a long sip of the vintage Corellian brandy and savoring every taste of the expensive beverage. Dropping a block of ice into the short glass, he keyed in a series of commands into a small console built into the armrest with his free hand. The transparisteel viewport darkened, now showing a recorded feed of the descending vessels. Witnessing as the recorded fighters jinked and juked, dancing past the deadly bolts, the governor gave a hoarse laugh.


“That’s because they were anticipating your every move, Lieutenant.”


“Sir?” The man questioned, his eyebrows furrowed in confusion.


“Jedi have a wide range of abilities some consider unnatural, including the ability to sense danger when it is near.” He explained, “Like all things, we can exploit this to our advantage. I want them to feel threatened, give them a false sense of discomfort. Once this is accomplished, they will respond in kind, by which time, they will have played into our hands.” He explained, “Sabacc is a dangerous game, but one who has mastered it knows that the outcome is not measured in the form of chance, but in the skill of its players. And I intend to prove just that.”



…..Initiating Tactical Log #-ID—00894B…..


—-67%—–89%—99%—100%


===Playing: #-ID—00894B===


The image blazed to life ahead of a mountain of interference. Horizontal lines sliced out portions of the image as the holo recording bobbed in every direction. The barrel of an E-11 blaster rifle was visible in the lower portion of the feed, raised in the firing position. A blinding flash of cerulean light caused the tactical log to cut to static for several seconds before returning to the rhythmic flashes of blaster fire. The recorded 4th Platoon Ranger peered his weapon around a corner, releasing bolt after bolt of the deadly energy into the neighbouring corridor. Most of the shots had found their marks as the soldier advanced cautiously into the adjoining room.


“I’ll watch the entrance. Vik, Farris, secure the area.” The ranger shouted, his words distorted by the stifling helmet. “Stang. They’re here!”


The holo recording flashed once again with shades of green and crimson, as the soldier launched a volley at the approaching Corellians. The trade of blaster fire continued for several minutes, each of the invading rebels lay motionless with cauterized wounds burnt into their flesh.Trails of vapor rose from the lifeless bodies, creating a faint, sickly odor.


“I’m hit!” A voice reverberated from the adjoining room. “He’s not going to make it!” Another shouted.


“Secure the objective!” The recorded ranger ordered, turning to take a look into the room. Inside of the expansive interior of the small manufacturing factory, cargo containers were stacked neatly to the ceiling, filled with various starship parts that included everything from pre-assembled cockpit canopies built for the latest X-Wing models to targeting computers fit for a light cruiser. Each passing minute, one such container was loaded onto stacks, positioned by massive mechanical claws that slid across the ceiling on suspended tracks. A deafening screeching noise filled the expanse as one of the men gasped in horror.One of the containers had opened, spilling out a toxic cloud that spread across the entire threshold.


“Get out! NOW!” He managed to shout, before a cloud of opaque mist filled the limited view of the holorecorder. The only noises that could be heard was those of several soldiers slowly suffocating on the noxious fumes; Muffled coughing, mixed with sounds of panic. None of their helmets had been installed with rebreathers as the scene dissolved once again into static.


===END Transmission===


Liam Torun regarded the recording with mixed feelings of dread and outrage. He allowed the emotions to linger for a while before he felt a familiar presence lurking within the entrance to his makeshift command tent. All of the consoles and electronics from the converted lounge of the YCHT Arthos had been relocated to this position; he disliked the cramped feeling aboard the Yacht. “A’lora. Please, come in.” He offered to the visitor, who took several steps towards the High Councillor.


“You have great feelings of hatred… Even fear. Is something on your mind, Torun?” She stated, as diplomatically as possible.


He lowered the datapad before replying, his eyes somewhat bloodshot from his lack of rest, “When we came to this planet, I had not anticipated the mind behind the threat we face. Now, I am quite well aware that he is a master manipulator, possibly fueling the rebellion for his own gain.”


“It doesn’t matter,” She began, her tone even and soothing, “Talus needs the Jedi as much as New Tython does. We have a purpose here, we cannot simply give up on its people.”


“You have a point.” He agreed, “I’ll have our tacticians focus on learning the enemy’s strategy. See what they can find out. In the meantime, I propose a new change in tactics.”


“You have a plan?”


“Of sorts.” He concurred, “They want us to him them where they’re weak. I suggest we hit them where they’re strong.”



Corellian System

Talus

Tythonian Militia Encampment


“That doesn’t make any kriffing sense!” Lyze Kiel blurted, in response to the words the Togruta had just relayed, “We’re limited in numbers, we won’t stand a chance in a slugging match. Has Liam lost his mind?” The Corellian Jedi continued as he began pacing in a semicircle around the Aedile.


“Nobody is suggesting we attack them with head-on invasions. What Liam is suggesting is that we weaken their fortified locations, stealing their supplies or dividing their troops, covert missions. If we keep going after their weakest points, we run the risk of running our troops into more surprises.”


“I think I see what he’s getting at,” He said, stroking the stubble on his chin, “So, we’re going to do exactly what they won’t expect. I like it. I’ll have a division sent out immediately to sabotage their weapon stores. Our intelligence assures me that there is a large stockpile in the northern industrial sector. We’ll have them disguised as Corellian rebels. Once they get in contact with the stockpile, I’ll have each one set their power packs to overload at random when fired. If that doesn’t discourage the enemy, I don’t know what will.”


“No,” The female Jedi said sternly, “I don’t want innocents to accidentally find one of those. Any other suggestions?”


The Corellian considered for a moment, “I suppose we could release some of their Tibanna into the atmosphere and ignite it. Should take down a sizable chunk of whichever building they’re using for storage and completely destroy their stockpiles.”


“That seems acceptable. There shouldn’t be any civilians around when it explodes. Relay the order, General.”

Epilogue


Corellian System

Talus

Garon’s Private Offices


Tactical data scrolled across the viewscreen, military updates, readiness counts and tactical readouts, none of it good news. Governor Garon leaned forwards in his chair, watching as his entire world unraveled before him. Making no attempt to conceal his panic, his face turned a pale shade of crimson, while his entire uniform was drenched in sweat.


“Sir!” A voice called out, barely audible around the headache he was now experiencing. Massaging his temples with one hand, he reached for the vintage bottle with the other. It was only after he had knocked over the expensive Corellian brandy when he realized how much he was shaking.The bottle shattered, spilling his favorite beverage onto the floor.


“Sir?”


Suddenly, it felt as if the walls were collapsing around him. He shifted from anxiety to outrage, picking up the remnants of the bottle and hurling it across the room to crash against an aged wine cabinet made from the branches of a wroshyr tree with a satisfying crunch.


“Sir, they’re here.”


His assistant gazed in horror as the Governor drew his holdout blaster, pushing the barrel of it against the man’s head. Despite the assistant’s pleas to spare his life, only one thing remained on his mind. Escape.


An unfamiliar sound erupted at the door, the snap-hiss of a lightsaber blazing into existence.Three figures stood between him and the doorway, each of them wielding lightsabers in various hues.


“Its over, Garon. Release the hostage and your life will be spared.” A man commanded, his voice heavily amplified through the Force.


Wheeling the blaster around to the intruders, he released several shots at the lead Jedi. Easily batting away each of the bolts to scorch various items along the walls, Liam Torun stepped towards the war criminal at an ever-increasing pace. With one of the other Jedi seizing the hostage through the Force and drawing his away from his assailant, he stabbed with his lightsaber, burying it into the man’s stomach and severing his spine.


“I’m sorry.” He whispered, before extinguishing the blade.



[REDACTED] Sector

[REDACTED] System

Odan-Urr Fleet


“You’re sure the Talus government won’t miss these ships?” Lyze Kiel asked, stroking the scruffy stubble under his chin while he sat behind the controls of one the Jedi’s newest acquisitions. Every couple of seconds, another ship would drop out of hyperspace nearby the hidden planet on which refugees from New Tython struggled to survive with limited resources. Thankfully, vast stores of basic supplies were packed into the ships emerging from hyperspace.


“Garon was the only one who knew of the hidden shipyards. I’m willing to bet that besides a handful of engineers, nobody else is aware they’re missing.” Liam replied, scanning the various consoles lining the interior of the larger ship as Tythonian pilots busily worked within their stations, memorizing the console layouts and their purposes.


A voice buzzed over their comlink frequency, “Correct me if I’m wrong, Sir. Have we just prevented a war?” Revak asked from behind the controls of his Y-Wing.


Liam stood in front of the viewport, taking in the scene as the system’s sun disappeared over the planet’s horizon. “Its delayed for the time being. But war is still coming.”

Medical Log

Images swirled in Subject Twelve’s subconscious mind. Unable to regain an awareness of his surroundings, he saw in the darkest corners recessed away in his mind images – little more than bright flashes of light, lingering occasionally at the horror that had befallen him more than a year ago.

I have become one with the Force.

Is that what you believe?

It is what I am.

Then why do you linger in the past?

He had no answer. Instead, the voice shifted to a familiar pitch – that of a Nagai. A thick, sweet, yet rancid odour seemed to cloud his senses. The distinctive smell reminiscent of a memory, a painful reminder of his last, ragged breath.

I have abandoned them.

You have not.

The sound of the Nagai’s voice sent a chill throughout his being. He did not remember when these words were said – or if they were ever spoken. The blurred images faded to black, replaced with another sensation. He felt weightless – suspended in nothingness, as if he had shed his mortal vessel and truly became one with the Force.

So, this is what it feels like. To remain forever an extension of the will of the Force.

Yet, he felt something else – a presence in the nothingness beyond. Straining against the numbness he felt, the image became sharper, clearer until he could recognize the humanoid form on the other side of the abyss that surrounded him. It raised a hand, but the hand did not have digits, instead, a flipper-like appendage raised a cylindrical object towards him.

A Lightsaber?

No.

A blinding light not unlike the one that engulfed him in his final memories pierced his bug-like eyes. He tried to look away, but the numb feeling in his body had barely receded. The light moved, relocating itself in his peripheral vision. He heard a different voice, one that sounded garbled as it spoke. The voice was difficult to hear, as if several meters away.

He is recovering.

Recovering?

Finally, you understand.


Medical Log #-ID—00782C

…..Initiating Medical Log #-ID—00782C …..

—-67%—–89%—99%—100%

===Playing: #-ID—00782C - Day 256===

A sharp, mechanical click was audible over the recording, signalling the beginning of the medical log. A mountain of static played in the background of the medical examiner’s voice, drowning out all other noise, save for the doctor’s own baritone voice and the occasional sounds of a low beep emanating from a nearby console.

“Medical Log fifteen of Subject Twelve’s recovery, representing the two hundred and fifty-sixth day of treatment. Until regeneration of the subject’s exoskeleton and major organs are able to fully restore Subject Twelve’s bodily functions, our current methods have so far sustained the subject. By simulating the functions of major organs, we are able to keep the patient alive through artificial means until the regeneration process is completed. Fortunately, it seems we were able to preserve the patient’s consciousness. Last week, Subject Twelve became fully aware, though the patient’s lack of motor functions renders him incapable to respond to all attempts at testing. I will update this log on the patient’s progress. My colleagues and I are waiting for results.”

The groaning of the console’s chair could be heard above the static as the medical examiner vacated the area. His footsteps drifted further from the limited reach of the recording’s audio and stopped as he opened the thick, durasteel door with his key card, which issued a soft beep before the vault-like door revolved outwards, hissing as the hydraulic rotated ninety degrees. After he exited the area, the door swivelled shut again, hissing and groaning as it did so and locked with a gigantic thud.

New Tython
Owyhyee Continent
Ooroo Abbey Ruins
Undisclosed Bunker

Readouts and data packets decrypted before the 2-1b droid's photoreceptors, relaying the news of the past several months. To any living being, and to the vast majority of droids, the news would have brought them low; even assassin droids would have been shaken by the volume of it. New Tython had fallen. Harakoans were being rounded up, spirited off to the desert while the colonists were being slowly squeezed to dust by the newly-crowned King. The Thuron Monarchy had risen from the People's New Dawn insurgents, and the Jedi had been driven away. Even an astromech would have had to stop, to process the data. The Nagai examiner - the one being in contact with the droid - refused to even read them, lest they disrupt his meditation processes.

The droid merely filed the news under chronological reports, and returned to its monitors. Its directive remained unchanged; the resuscitation would continue.

The thousands of tons of stone above the droid had rumbled when the Abbey had been destroyed, the little dust it had shaken loose swept clean. Only a handful of instrument monitors and the bluish light of a massive bacta tank broke the absolute darkness; the only passageway in had been sealed and hidden, to be opened when the work was done. Within the tank, complex tubes, needles, and monitors pierced the half-regenerated flesh of an incomplete sapient, pale and fleshy in his exposed state. Organs drifted and hung, suspended here and there by mechanical arms and braces as tubes pierced its flesh; exoskeletal regrowth in some areas had been cut away, so as to prevent scarring or malforming during the regrowth process. Sedatives flowed into Twelve's body; he had regained consciousness in the past, but his pain receptors were beginning to regenerate more fully. It was too dangerous to let him awaken in pain, lest he tear himself apart before the process was complete.

Slowly, mechanically, the droid read over the creature's respiratory readouts. Satisfied, it disconnected a breathing tube, activating the rebreather apparatus attached to the vestigial remnants of face.

"Subject Twelve's lung capacity is within the ninety-seventh percentile; sufficient to disconnect artificial respiratory apparatus. Initiating assisted breathing. Other organs nearing completion" The machine's hollow, monotone voice rang out throughout the chamber, meeting the ears of the examiner. He got a slow nod; the Nagai had been in contact with the subject since the process had begun, but had chosen more and more not to speak. It seemed he had withdrawn into his own thoughts.

If the 2-1b had possessed a face, it might have smiled. It enjoyed the silence.

Chapter I

Councilor's prefab shelter
Planet haven
[Redacted] system

His aging brow furrowed as he observed the recent intelligence report from New Tython, a regular practice of whatever agents the House had had on the home-world under the circumstances. Most of them were related to the situation in Purity Rock, where Cy Thuron sent all those he wanted to remove. This one was no different but it rang alarm sirens in his mind.

“Liam?” A’lora walked into his office, naturally silent and graceful. “what is bothering you?”

Liam Torun met her worried gaze with his own grim expression - a look she hadn’t seen before. Turning his gaze back at the console he pushed several buttons, transferring the images he saw on the small screen, to the holo device on his table. A’lora’s hand reached for her mouth in disbelief as the images of the Knights sprang up, one by one. They were caged, and collared, like animals in the Coronet Zoo. Around them, in the dozens, sat Harakoans and Colonists alike. Purity Rock guards were beating several of them with shock batons, boots, and whatever else they could get their hands on.

“Some of our very best were in chains, and we didn’t even know about it until now?!” The initial shock subsided as A’lora calmed down and regained her composure “When was this?”

“Several days ago.” Liam replied.

“Can we confirm these are genuine?”

“Yes. They were sent by one of our agents on the planet.”

A moment of silence gave them both, time to reflect on what they would do under the circumstances. It was A’lora who spoke first.

“Do we advance our plans?”

“No.” Liam replied calmly, “However that may be an eventuality we will have to face soon enough. Right now, all we can do is have faith in their abilities.”

“So we are to leave them there,” she looked at the hologram again “like that?”

“I never said that. We cannot send an invasion army unprepared. And certainly not for the lives of several individuals. The K.U.D.F. is not ready yet - we are not ready yet." Liam snapped back.

"We will send Ooroo.” he finally admitted “A small, silent team can do a lot of damage and can even help the Knights from the outside. And if I know Kah and Vorsa, something is already being done about their escape.”

Purity Rock
New Tython

Kah observed the numerous bodies lying on the ground around him. His one good eye caught the gaze of one young Harakoan, no older than a few years. The boy hid away from the Gungan, who had by now looked like a dust-covered monster, under his mother's arm. He looked at his hands, now covered with sand, and smirked at the thought of dying in the driest place he had ever been in. These thoughts left him soon, however, as he stood up to stretch his legs and breathe some of the fresher air outside.

The hut they were forced to sleep in - if you could call it a hut at all - had no beds, no sheets, not even a floor. They slept in the dirt and sand with the rest of the prisoners. Kah thought it was a wonder the prisoners were alive at all. Disease was frequent, and often fatal. Most didn’t last long enough to even catch a cold. Where these unfortunate souls were taken Kah could not guess, but he knew their fate.

As he walked outside he stopped next to a nearby tree - oddly out of place in the desert. Vorsa swung her branches in the wind and soaked as much water from the ground as she could before transforming to the familiar feminine form Kah was accustomed to. A sight that had scared many Harakoans and Colonists alike the first time they saw it.

“What be yousa plan, Vorsa?” Kah asked in hushed tones.

“I...am not sure.” she replied with a worried look. Kah had never known the Neti to lack resolve, but now it seemed exactly that was happening.

“Did we cause all of this, Kah? I never realized..." her head dropped in the face of utter devastation in front of her. "Thousands upon thousands of Harakoans and Colonists were dead. All because of the ambitions of one man, and the Jedi's inability to stop him."

"Wesa not resposible, sista'. Theesa is da doing of Thuron, and wesa gonna stop him." Kah replied in a deterined voice "now stop yousa mumblin' an' help me organize theesa thing. Wesa makin da biggest rebellion theesa maggots evah seen." the Gungan emphasized his words by showing her the thousands upon thousands of people still alive.

"Wesa still have much to fight fo'." he ended and turned back towards the hut.

Indeed we do, my friend. Vorsa thought, a smile finally forming on her face.

Cantina
Planet Haven
[Redacted] system

“How much do you wanna bet I can do it?!” Seridan looked at the other members of Ooroo with an eager smile on his face.

“Don’t do it.” Revak replied with a stern, un-amused tone.

“I can do it! Watch me do it!” Seridan said as he bent his knees to a half squat position.

“Don’t do it.” Said Sang with an anxious smirk.

Seridan leapt off the cantina bar, over a table and landed with a handstand on top of a keg. He took five large gulps of the dark brew before pushing himself off the keg and, with a slight stagger, landed upright on the floor. Seridan raised both arms above his head to absorb the cheers that filled the room. Revak looked at Seridan and raised his glass to congratulate him. He then looked at Sang who was smiling from ear to ear.

“Pay up Jedi!” Sang exclaimed.

“I bet you,” Revak slid 10 credits across the bar to Sang, but kept his hand covering them. “Double or nothing he can’t do it again.”

“Ha, ha! You’re…”

Sang was interrupted by the buzz of Ravak’s comlink. Revak lifted his hand to reveal the credits then stood up and walked away from the bar to answer the call.

“Revak, on”

“Revak. Liam. Gather Ooroo and meet up at Command.” Over the sound of laughing, singing and cheers, Revak noticed a concerned tone to Liam’s voice; one that troubled him.

“Yes sir.” Revak replied.

A brief sound of fuzz meant Liam had broken communication. Revak looked at the others; they could tell that something serious had happened.

Councilor's prefab shelter
Planet Haven
[Redacted] system

Gathered in front of a holoterminal, stood the members of StrikeTeam Ooroo. Liam and A’lora entered the room and walked to the opposite side of the terminal. Liam still held the concerned look Ravak had pictured him with when he called him at the cantina. A’lora pushed several buttons before a blue image appeared above the terminal. The image showed the Knights of Allusis caged like animals. Dirty. Bloody. Around them, huddled in small groups, Harakoans and Colonists of mixed races were chained neck to neck and ankle to ankle.

“No, please don’t!” A woman could be heard saying before a Thuron guard grabbed a young human female from one of the groups. He threw her to the ground. Frightened, she tried to crawl away but she was kicked before she could get anywhere. Gasping to catch her breath she looked up to see the guard raise his baton into the air. She closed her eyes in anticipation of the hot metal against her skull. Instead an older Twi'lek male leapt out of the group and tackled the guard. The strength of the men pulled the rest of the group with him. Almost instantly a swarm of guards rushed the Twi’lek. Throwing him to the ground, they focused all their attention on him. StrikeTeam Ooroo watched as his body was brutally beaten. When the dust settled all that remained was a lifeless body.

A’lora pushed a button to make the horrific scene disappear.

Liam cleared his throat before he spoke.

“This was a few days ago. What has become of the Knights since then is unknown.”

“How? Why were they captured?” Rangel was the first to speak up.

“All you need to know is that we need you to get them out.” Liam replied. “They are held in a Thuron concentration camp designated Purity Rock. The others you saw are Harakoan and Colonials captured by Thuron forces. The Jedi do not stand for this sort of treatment, especially when it’s of our own.
Liam handed a data pad to Revak, who looks over the technical readout of the camp. Revak took a second to study the information before looking up at Liam.

“We can be ready to move out by sunrise.”

“Good,” Liam said. “Your primary mission is liberation of the camp. We believe that Purity Rock is a secondary information hub of Thuron. Find whatever information you can on him. This needs to end.”

The members of StrikeTeam Ooroo bowed to the Quaestor and Aedile before leaving the room. They stepped almost in unison, expressionless, as they made their way down the corridor to the supply rooms. Civilian staff parted as the group marched.

Gathering in the hangar, they loaded the Shuttle that would drop them on a rocky outcrop that overlooked the facility. This is what they’ve trained for. A chance to strike back at Thuron was what they’ve been waiting for. But with the Knights in danger, this meant it was personal.

Week 1 winning fiction: Turel Sorenn
Ordain Vonoro Spaceport
Menat Ombo, New Tython
37 ABY

One Week Ago

“Why did I have to leave my lightsaber behind again?” Brain inquired to Turel as the two men walked out of the spaceport terminal.

“Because we’re posing as off-world mercenaries.” Turel said in a hushed tone so as not to be overheard.

“And why are we doing this again?”

“Did you sleep through the mission brief again or something?”

“No. I just want to hear you say it.”

“We are posing as off-world mercenaries to get ourselves arrested and sent to Purity Rock. And if they don’t know we are Jedi they will put us in general pop. where we’ll have more freedom to move about.”

“So we’re going to cause trouble in town and get ourselves arrested?” Turel nodded in agreement. “When do we get started?” Brain asked with a devilish grin.

“Right now, I’ve got just the place to hit.” Turel rubbed his hands together gleefully.

“Let’s do this!” Brain reached over to give Turel a fist bump.

Menat Orbo Municipal Court
Menat Orbo
New Tython
18 Hours Later

The night magistrate entered the room wearing the stereotypical black robes of his office. Several dozen beings in restraints awaiting trial, a few court-appointed legal counsels, and a bored-looking local holonews reporter rose as the judge entered then took their sets at the direction of the bailiff. The magistrate assumed his place on the bench and quickly scanned a datapad his clerk had left for him. “Bailiff, call the docket.”

The bailiff stood up and announced with a booming voice, “Here Ye Here Ye, This honorable Court of the Thuron Monarchy is now in session. The first case is the Crown vs. Adrian Summers and Kirq Ramwagr. Prisoner 24601, step forward.” Turel recognized his assigned number and stepped to the podium in the center of the courtroom.

The magistrate took a moment to finish reading the datapad. “You are Adrian Summers, a citizen of Corellia, correct?” Turel nodded in agreement, acknowledging the identification he’d been arrested with, which belonged to one of his former aliases.

The bailiff hit Turel on the shoulder. “Speak up when the magistrate addresses you,” he growled.

Turel cast a resentful glare toward the bailiff, then turned to address the magistrate. “That is correct.”

The magistrate continued. “You and your co-defendant are charged with public drunkenness, disorderly conduct, three counts of assault, two counts of assaulting an officer of the crown, four counts of vandalism of a public monument, resisting arrest, theft of government property (namely one police speeder), and possession of illegal weapons.” The magistrate paused for a moment. “Do you understand these charges?”

Brain stood up. “I think you left some charges out. It was one hell of a night!” The bailiff punched him in the stomach. “QUIET!”

Turel responded. “I understand the charges.”

“Do you wish to enter a plea?”

“Your honor, I refuse to recognize the jurisdiction of this court. The Thuron monarchy is an illegal occupation and an affront to the citizens of New Tython.” He defiantly raised his fist into the air. “FREE NEW TYTHON!!” The other prisoners awaiting their hearings cheered. The bailiffs in the room advanced and hit Turel with stun batons until he collapsed unconscious to the floor.

The magistrate was incensed, “I will not tolerate outbursts in my courtroom!” He turned to Brain, “Prisoner 24602 do you understand the charges against you?”

“Yes.”

“Do you wish to enter a different plea from your co-defendant?”

Brain pointed at Turel. “Uh, what he said!”

The prisoners cheered again and the magistrate banged his gavel until the bailiffs restored order. “Very well. I find you both guilty on all counts. For inciting treason against the Crown, for disturbing the peace of the realm and for contempt of His Majesty’s court, I hereby sentence you and your co-defendant to five years hard labor at the Purity Rock detention facility. And may His Majesty have mercy upon your souls. Next case!” He banged his gavel to signal the end of the hearing.

As a bailiff frogmarched Brain out of the courtroom, he looked over at Turel’s unconscious body being dragged beside him. He thought to himself, ‘Well, mission accomplished buddy. Now comes the hard part.’

Purity Rock
Detention Facility
New Tython
30 Hours Later

Turel opened his eyes. He had been in the back of that prisoner transport for who knows how long before the bumping wheeled vehicle finally came to a stop. The back door of the transport opened and the sudden influx of sunlight nearly blinded everyone in the back. Turel squinted to try to see out of the back door. As his eyes adjusted, he saw guards lined up on either side of the back ramp forming two human walls leading into a large building. ‘This must be inprocessing. We are here,’ He thought. His cheekiness had gotten them into the prison, but he knew better than to continue it inside. This was the time to be cooperative and lay low. Compliant detainees were put into lower levels of security and that is exactly what he and Brain wanted for their mission. Lower security would give them the freedom of movement they needed to find the other members of their battle team in the facility and coordinate with the Ooroo strike team on the the outside.

A burly human guard in battle armor followed by a geeky-looking guard carrying a clipboard approached the transport’s ramp. “Prisoners, exit the transport in a single file line. No talking.” He scanned the prisoners in the transport hold with a scornful look that seemed to say “try something, I dare you.” The human wall of guards leading to the inprocessing facility was probably unnecessary, but the stark show of force right on the front end sent a powerful psychological message to the detainees about who was in charge here.

Turel looked over to the other side of the transport to see Brain. He gave a subtle wink when the guards weren’t looking. They had both done stints in prison before. That’s why Quaestor Liam had chosen them to go “inside” the prison and prep the objective for their sister strike team to rescue the captive Knights of Allusis. Turel and Brain were one of the few Knights of Allusis members who weren’t on the disastrous Varonat mission which led to the team’s capture.

The prisoners filed out of the transport one by one, their hand and leg irons clanging as they moved. The human hallway of guards stood at silent grim, attention as the prisoners filed by. Brain had trouble seeing where he was going with the hot desert wind blowing sand into his face. Turel kept his head down, trying to surreptitiously memorize the layout of the area they were in. The inprocessing building seemed to be located in a central, administrative area of the facility, connecting all the other areas together. The internal areas of the prison were divided by fences and the outer perimeter was lined with high walls; both were dotted with guard towers every 100 meters or so.

Once inside the inprocessing building the new prisoners were herded into a large room and read the rules of the facility. Then the guards shuffled the prisoners through various processing stations that included administrative data, uniform issue, and a very probing medical exam. Turel became nervous as the medical personal scanned his prosthetic arm. The scans found no contraband and the facility personnel ruled it was not a security risk. The scans missed the tiny transceiver Nathan Deciarus had hidden in Turel’s cybernetic arm when he rebuilt it. The transceiver could be activated by Turel in an emergency and detected from a short distance.

After making his way through the various stations being poked, prodded, sanitized, and questioned, Turel arrived at the final station: the intelligence interview. It was the same at every large prison like this. An intelligence officer examined the prisoner’s file, conducted a brief interview and determined the prisoner’s security classification. The officer in this facility didn’t ask Turel any questions. He skimmed his file, said “Hmm, another political prisoner,” and directed the guard to send him to the human medium security compound.

Turel relaxed a bit as the guards escorted him to the human segment of the compound. The staff hadn’t identified him as any kind of a major threat just another political prisoner for the work camp. No shock collar, no special precautions, just hand and leg irons during transport. He knew if he acted up he’d be sent to maximum security or solitary confinement, but for now he had a certain degree of freedom when he wasn’t slaving away in the work camp. It was hard to sense anything through the Force in this place. There was so much despair, suffering and death. Despite this, Turel knew that his friends and master were in there with him. He just had to find them.

Work Camp
Purity Rock Detention Facility
New Tython
5 Days Later

Because of their relatively good physical condition, Turel and Brain were assigned to mining duty inside the massive workcamp. Purity Rock had a loose segregation plan in which humans lived separately from aliens who lived separately from Harakoan natives. It was motivated partially by the racism of the regime running the facility but also served to keep the peace. Work parties were another matter entirely. Prisoners were grouped according to their strength and physical condition, strong males of all species were sent to the mines. Everyone else either worked in the moisture farm, ore processing facility, or if they were lucky, one of the administrative buildings providing services for the guard force.

Brain and Turel immediately embedded themselves with the other human prisoners. The humans, aliens, and Harakoans each had their own secret leadership structures within the camp. The respective factions communicated where and when they could, mostly during work shifts when species were allowed to mix for work details. The human leaders had agreed to arrange a meeting between the undercover Jedi and Gideon Varos, the human political leader and sole survivor of the old government of New Tython. The meeting was to take place after the current shift was over.

Brain and Turel were part of a mixed species work group hauling a cart full of ore up the mine shift. As the group came to the entrance of the mine, they passed by an overseer whipping an adolescent Harakoan male. “Pick up that ore, you filthy savage,” the overseer shouted as he cracked the whip again. The young Harakoan cried out in agony as the whip tore into his exposed flesh. Another guard came up behind the boy and kicked him hard in the stomach as he tried to get up. “Animals, every last one of them. Can’t even carry a load without dropping it.” The second guard stepped aside as the overseer resumed whipping with a bloodlust in his eyes.

A rage welled up inside Turel that he could not explain or control. He had done some bad things in his life and killed a lot of people. He wasn’t proud of any of it. A lifetime in the underworld had made him callous to a lot of things. Harming children was not one of them. Something about harming children struck to the very core of his oath as a Jedi Guardian; what he had sworn to protect. The logical part of his brain was screaming for him to just keep pushing the cart, but he could not stand by while this boy suffered. On some level Turel knew this would blow his cover and jeopardize the mission. The very mission which was the last, best hope to free these people. There was no logic now; that part of his brain was a faint echo. There was only raw emotion and a need for justice.

Turel let go of the cart and turned toward the gruesome scene. “Let. Him. Go.” Brain looked at Turel with utter horror on his face as he wondered what in the world his friend was doing.

The overseer froze and turned around.“What did you say?” All the guards in the area began to slowly descend upon Turel as the confrontation unfolded.
“You heard me.”

“How dare you! You disgusting Ako lover!” The overseer raised his hand to crack the whip in Turel’s direction. Turel stood defiant; his rage a blazing inferno. Just before the overseer could crack the whip, an older Harakoan male stepped between them. With his back to the overseer, the Harakoan grabbed Turel by the shoulders and locked eyes with him. He silently shook his head no. He didn’t need words. The message was clear to Turel: Not here. Not now. The whip came down across the Harakoan’s back in a blow meant for Turel. He winced in pain, but kept his firm grip on Turel’s shoulders. Turel snapped out of his rage. Logic regained a foothold in his mind.

“Oh look, the Ako lover’s pet protects him!” The overseer sneered.

A guard officer arrived on the scene to see what the commotion was about. He turned to the group pushing the cart, including Turel and the older Harakoan. “Get back to work!” He turned to the overseer. “If you want to beat Ako’s to death, go do it somewhere else. I have an operation to run here. We might as well turn some profit from the beasts before they keel over.”

“Yes sir.”

Human Compound
Purity Rock Detention Facility
New Tython
4 Hours Later

Brain and Turel followed a group of human prisoners to a tent where a bearded man in his late twenties stood waiting inside a circle of older humans. The bearded man addressed the two men. “Welcome. You’ll understand our hesitancy at meeting right away. We had to ensure you weren’t with the guards.” Turel nodded. The bearded man continued, “I am Gideon Varos, sole survivor of the legitimate government of New Tython.”

Turel spoke up, “Pleased to meet you. You can call me Adrian and my associate Kirq. Those aren’t our real names.” He looked down at the other men seated in a circle. “Is it safe to speak here?”

Gideon spoke up, “These are the elders of the human camp. Anything you say to me, you can say to them.”

“Ah. My associate and I are looking for a team of Jedi who were brought here recently.”

Gideon stroked his beard. “We have eyes and ears all over the facility. We know of six Jedi who were brought here a few days before you were. But they are all held in the maximum security section under heavy guard.”

“I was afraid of that.”

“I believe it’s safe to assume that you two gentlemen are not the simple off-world mercenaries you claim to be. Are you with the Jedi?”
Brain spoke up, “Yes. We are with the Jedi. However, If the guards gain any inclination that we are Force-users we’ll have shock collars on our necks and be in maximum security cells before you can blink.”

Turel interjected. “There is a Jedi strike team poised to hit the facility when we contact them. We aren’t just planning on rescuing our comrades. We are taking this whole facility down. To do that while minimizing casualties we need your help and the help of the other compound leaders as well.”

Gideon carefully considered Turel’s words. “I heard about what you tried to do in the mines today. That was very brave, but foolish, but you have shown yourself to be a true friend of the Harakoan and Tythonian peoples. We will coordinate with the other leaders; when the time comes we will be ready. We have been working on a plan for some time. We must move our elderly, children, and those who cannot fight to safety when the time comes. The rest will stand with you. What is your plan, master Jedi?”

Turel drew a rough sketch of the facility in the dirt. “We studied old maps before we came here. The mines lead out of the camp and into the hills. There is an old shaft that leads out of the mine into the hills but it was sealed when they built this facility. If I can get my hands on some explosives I can blow the abandoned shaft and hopefully reopen it. That will give your people a route to safety.” Gideon nodded thoughtfully.

Brain continued. “The first step is freeing our comrades from the maximum security section. Once our team is free we can seize control of the prison armory here,” he pointed at Turel’s diagram, “And blow the fence here. This should allow us to arm all of your fighters. The Jedi strike team will link up with us and together we’ll handle the heavy resistance while your warriors escort your people to safety.”

Gideon nodded. “A sound plan, assuming we can free your friends. We’ll coordinate with Chief Whenua but you will have a hard time convincing him to keep his warriors out of the heavy fighting. Harakoans are proud warriors.”

“And we are proud to have them. Chief Whenua lives then?” Turel asked.

“Yes. That was his brother you tried to protect in the mines today.”

Turel was speechless for a second, but Brain picked right up where he left off. “So the problem is how do we get into the maximum security section?”
Gideon thought for a second. “We can’t get you inside without raising an alarm but perhaps we can get a message to one of your friends. If he can convincingly feign an illness they will take them to the hospital for examination. We can get you inside the hospital; so, assuming we can only get a message to one of your comrades, who should it be?

Turel and Brain looked at each other for a second. Turel started thinking out loud. “Who could best help us infiltrate the maximum security section? It should be a human, the others would stick out too much.” Both the Jedi faces lit up at the same time like they had the same idea. They shouted in unison, “Nathan!”

“Very good. Can you describe him so our people can pass your message along?”

Brain fielded this question. “Oh, Nathan is my master. He’s a human male, looks like a teenager, light skin, spikey platinum blonde hair.”

“Your master in the Jedi Order is a teenager? How strange.”

“Well he’s a clone of a Sith and well…It’s complicated, but he’s one of the best slicers I know.”

Turel held up his cybernetic arm. “Nathan rebuilt and improved this. Besides it’s not that strange. My master is a homicidal Gungan.” Turel saw his joke had confused Gideon and the elders. “I was joking, Kah’s not homicidal. Most of the time.”

“He sounds like a great warrior.”

“They all are. We just need to free them. Before we finalize this plan do you have means for contacting the outside world?”

“We have a makeshift comlink hidden away, but its range is limited.”

“Excellent! Tune the comlink to 2568.23 and transmit ‘Allusis Stands’ until you get a response. The other strike team is monitoring that frequency. That will let them know we are ready and to execute their part of the mission.”

Brain interjected, “So how do you plan to get us into the hospital?”

Facility Hospital
Purity Rock Detention Facility
New Tython
6 Hours Later

Nathan woke up chained to a gurney inside a spartan hospital room with his shock collar still attached. He had gotten a strange message with his meal that morning from one of the human females who brought the food. The message was crudely encoded but said to feign an illness so someone could meet him in the hospital. He wondered who wanted to arrange such a risky meeting, but he had nothing but time on his hands so he put on his best performance and used a little bit of the Force on the maximum security medic.

Nathan heard a commotion outside his room and he felt a familiar presence in the Force. Brain and Turel burst into the room, each dragging the unconscious bodies of the two guards who had been stationed outside of Nathan’s room. Suddenly it was clear who had arranged the meeting.
Turel finished stuffing his guard into a corner. “I don’t think anyone heard us.”

Brain came out of his own corner after depositing his unconscious guard. “Well that was fun, I don’t know how long they’ll be out.”

Nathan sat up as much as he could. “Turel? Brain? How did you two get in here?” He noticed they were in prisoner uniforms. “You got yourselves captured?”

Brain filled his master in as Turel started uncuffing Nathan’s restraints. “Master Liam sent us to infiltrate the prison. We’re here to rescue you!”

Nathan shrugged, returning circulation to his freed limbs. “Great! So what’s the plan?”

Brain continued, “Turel and I are here to make contact with the population leaders and determine your status and location. Strike Team Ooroo is poised to hit the facility as soon as we kick off our little prison break.”

Turel finished uncuffing Nathan. “We need your help to free the others. Gideon and his people were able to get us in here we can’t get into the maximum security compound.”

Nathan pondered the situation for a second. “Leave that part to me. You did a good job getting this far, now undress those guards. We need their uniforms and badges. You two are going to escort me back into the maximum security section.” Turel and Brain nodded with understanding. Nathan got in front of the room’s mirror, grabbed a nearby medical instrument, and began fiddling with the shock collar.”

Brain lunged forward, “Careful master, won’t that explode if you mess with it?”

“Possibly, but it’s a relatively simple design. And...done!” The shock collar fell off. Nathan continued to modify it. After a few moments he was successful in disabling the shock collar. “There, now when they try to shock me all I’ll get is a nice tickle. He tossed a small rectangular shaped object at Turel. “Here’s the explosive charge from the collar, Turel. I assume you’ll put this to good use,” Nathan said with a wink.

Turel and Brain put on the guard’s uniforms and left the guards cuffed and gagged in the room’s latrine. Turel jokingly turned to Brain, “These pants are kind of tight. Do you think they make my butt look big?” He bent over in a suggestive pose.

Without missing a beat Brain replied, “I don’t know, let’s ask Aerin when we see her. She seems to have taken a keen interest in your butt lately.” Turel tried to hide the fact that he was blushing at that comment. Nathan just shook his head at the ridiculous sight of a middle aged, ex-gangster and war veteran blushing like a school boy.

Nathan interjected, “Those badges will get you past the electronic security measures. I’ll have to use a mind trick if any guards examine the badges too closely. Let’s go.”

Maximum Security Compound
Purity Rock Detention Facility
New Tython
Minutes Later

Brain and Turel escorted Nathan back to the maximum security compound dressed in the guard uniforms. Nathan wore his prisoner garb with the disabled shock collar and unlocked cuffs. His cuffs were “dummy locked” so it wasn’t readily visible that he could get out of them if he needed to. The trio came to the sally port of the max. security compound. Turel and Brain swiped their badges to enter.

Turel addressed the guards inside the sally port, “Prisoner returning from the hospital.” The senior guard checked the transfer paperwork and studied Turel and Brain for a second, trying to remember who they were. Nathan reached out with the Force to touch the guard’s mind. “These are the guards who left earlier.” The guard repeated the phrase to himself as if he were suddenly remembering something and cleared the trio through the sally port.

After they got out of earshot of the sally port guards, Brain let out of a sigh of relief. “That was close. I thought they have us for sure and we’d have to fight our way of that one.”

Turel focused on the building ahead. “We’re not done yet, we still have to take the guard station.” Brain and Turel used their badges again to enter the high security building where the Jedi were being held. They were buzzed into the main block and walked past the guard station.

Brain checked around the corner. “All clear down here. Let’s hit the station.” Turel and Nathan nodded as they hid under a camera, outside of it’s field of view. The three guards inside the guard station because to wonder what was going on when the prisoner and guards they expected to see disappeared from the cameras. Nathan took off his cuffs and prepared to rush into the guard station when Turel opened the door.

Turel used his badge to open the guard station. “Hey guys!”

The three guards stood up, thoroughly confused. “Who are you? Where’s your prisoner?” Nathan and Brain rushed into the room. Turel tackled the guard closest to the console to prevent him from hitting the alarm. Nathan slammed one of the guards into the wall using the Force while Brain rushed the last one. Turel managed to work himself into a choke hold position while struggling with his guard on the ground. He held the guard in a blood choke until the struggling man passed out. Brain went with the tried and true method of a good solid blow to the head to dispatch his guard. Once all three guards were quietly incapacitated Nathan went to work on the security systems and cameras.

“I should be able to patch in here and feed a continuous loop back into the camera system so the central command center won’t know what’s going on.” Nathan worked with unnatural speed with the security systems. “I’ve disabled the alarms. Use your keys to free the others; they are all on this level. We don’t have much time until one of the supervisors comes out here.” Brain and Turel rushed into the hallway to free their comrades.

The rest of the team trickled into the control room, trying to shake off atrophy and other effects of four weeks of imprisonment and interrogation. The whole team looked like they had been through hell, and in their own way they had been. Brain and Turel endured back breaking labor in the mines since their arrival, but their experience in the work camps paled in comparison to the sustained torment the rest of the team suffered. The dirt and blood stains on their uniforms and the bruises on their bodies told the whole story. They exchanged no words. They didn’t need any and this wasn’t the time. Each was mindful of their duty, and right now their duty was to their comrades still incarcerated somewhere in the facility.
Nathan found what he was looking for. “I have it, they are in…” He paused for a moment and his voice sank, “They are in the interrogation building.” Brain and Turel had only heard whispers of what went on in the dreaded interrogation building. The rest of the team had experienced its horrors first hand.

Ryan said what everyone was thinking, “We have to get them out of there!” The entire group nodded in agreement.

Sa adjusted his Kel Doran breath mask and asked the gruesome question that had to be asked, “Do we even know they are still alive?”

Nathan squinted as he searched more records. “Yes, according to the most recent logs from three hours ago, they still are.”

Putra cracked his knuckles, “We need weapons. We can’t take the interrogation facility with stun batons. Also, we need to get these off.” He punctuated his last sentence by pointing to his shock collar.

Nathan shook his head as if he had just remembered something important. “Oh, those...One moment.” A few keystrokes later and the whole team’s shock collars fell off. Aerin closed her eyes in a moment of deep concentration. “I can’t sense them from here...There’s so much pain in this place.” Her voice trailed off as she finished. She moved toward the corner of the room trying to regain her composure. Turel walked up behind her as Putra, Sa and Nathan formulated a battle plan over the computer monitor.

“Are you alright?” He wanted nothing more in that moment to embrace her and take all the pain and despair of the past weeks away from her to bear as his own. He stopped short, for he dare not. Aerin was a Jedi Knight, she was more powerful than he and a much stronger person on so many levels. His pride would never let him admit it out loud but he looked up to her in a way, as he strove through his own Knight trials.

Aerin’s connection to the Force allowed her to feel the intensity of Turel’s concern for her. For a fleeting moment, she allowed herself to bask in its warmth like a hearty fire on a cold day. It was a momentary indulgence and nothing more. Their friends were trapped in that pit of horrors and getting them out was all that mattered at the moment. “Thanks, I’ll be fine.” She placed her hand on his shoulder. “We need to stay focused so we can help the others.” Turel nodded and returned his attention to the discussion unfolding at the monitor.
Brain interjected into the intense planning discussions, “Don’t forget, Ooroo is standing by, as soon as we give the signal or the alarms go off, they will hit the facility.”

Sa nodded “Our breakout won’t go unnoticed for long, so we need to signal them now. Do we have any way of communicating with them from here?”

Nathan thought for a second. “Well, I could modify the guard’s communicators to work on our frequency but that would take too much time. I have a better idea.” He turned to Turel. “Let me see your arm.” Turel presented his cybernetic right arm, which Nathan examined for the nearly imperceptible recess containing the emergency transceiver. “Ah, the guards didn’t find the transceiver and it still works. Let me just activate it...There! They should see that signal if they are anywhere near the facility.” Turel pulled his multipurpose arm back.

Aerin returned to the group. “We should split up. Nathan and I should be able to infiltrate the interrogation facility without raising any alarms. The rest of you need to secure the prison armory and link up with Orroo and the rest of the prisoners.”

Nathan interjected, “We should take Brain with us; he’s in a guard uniform and still has credentials.” Brain nodded in agreement. Ryan and Turel armed themselves with stun batons. Putra and Sa nodded at each other in silent agreement. Both were men of few words and they knew what they had to do.

Brain turned to Turel before the groups split off. “Try to hold off on the fireworks as long as you can. We need time to secure Kah and Vorsa before the alarms go off.”

Turel smiled and shook Brain’s hand as they parted. “I know. Tell Kah I’ll see him on the battlefield.”

Putra, Sa, Ryan and Turel set off for the prison armory, while Nathan, Aerin and Brain rushed to infiltrate the interrogation facility.

Strike Team Ooroo
positioned 200 Meters outside of the Purity Rock Detention Facility Perimeter
New Tython

Revak-Kur lay in a prone position watching guard movements inside Purity Rock with a computerized interface scope. He and his team had spent so much time studying the defensive positions and guard movements that they knew the emplacements and schedules by heart. ‘What is taking them so long?’ he silently wondered. It had been days since they sent Brain and Turel into the facility to lay the groundwork for this mission.

Revak’s comlink crackled to life with Mirus’ voice, “We have a signal from Turel’s transponder.”

Revak keyed up his mic, “Do you have a location?”

“It’s coming from the maximum security block and moving toward the prison armory.”

That was a good sign. Those scoundrels had actually pulled it off. Revak cautiously left his position and moved back to his team’s position. He keyed up his mic one last time.

“Mirus, tell Ooroo to get ready, we’re going to get your teammates back.”

Prison Armory
Purity Rock Detention Facility
New Tython

Putra, Sa, Ryan and Turel moved from building to building as stealthily as they could. Putra and Ryan probably should have put on some guard uniforms before leaving the maximum security cell block to at least try to blend in with the human guards. Kel Dorans were quite distinct so Sa had no chance of blending in and the prisoner movement gambit wouldn’t work in this section of the facility. Turel gave the hand signal for the others to stay put as he stood up, straightened his guard uniform and walked right up to the lone guard station guarding the armory.

“Afternoon gentlemen.” The two guards inside the lonely guard shack stood up, somewhat confused at this stranger who so brazenly approached and greeted them.

Turel strived to remember what was on his ID card. “Corporal Smith, here to collect my weapon to assume tower duty in tower 47.”

Both of the guards approached Turel as he continued the charade. With their attention focused on Turel they did not notice the other Jedi sneaking up on their position. The senior guard reached out for Turel’s ID badge. “Shift change was 30 minutes ago, I don’t have any record of you.”

Turel winced and handed his badge to the senior guard. “Cut me some slack guys, it’s my first day on this shift and the Sergeant of the Guard will have my head if I’m any later.” Turel saw that Putra and Ryan were in position behind the guard shack, the Jedi warriors poised like a pair of jungle panthers stalking prey. “If you could just check the schedule again please, I’m sure I was entered in there somewhere.” As he said that Putra and Ryan sprang onto both guards, quickly knocking them out with sucker punches. The Jedi dragged the unconscious guards into the guard shack and handcuffed them together.

Sa walked calmly past the guard shack, paying little heed to the sleeping guards. “Nice work.” Turel used one of the armory guard’s ID badges to open the blast door. The armory contained a brigade’s worth of small arms, crew served weapons, and explosives. Turel was happier than a Jawa in a droid graveyard when he found the explosives section. The group armed themselves with blasters, though Turel and Putra were clearly more comfortable using them. Turel gathered a moderate pack of explosives with a remote detonator.

Ryan asked the obvious, “So now that we have the weapons how do we get them through the fence to the prisoners?”

Turel held up the remote detonator with mischievous glee, “By getting rid of the fence.”

The fence was less than a 100 meters from the prison armory. The towers on the fence were oriented toward the internment camp, away from the armory which was in the guard living area of the facility. Turel crept up to the base of the nearest tower and placed an explosive charge. He crept along the fence line and planted two more charges at even intervals between the first tower and the second. Finally Turel planted an explosive charge at the second tower. The explosives were set to take out two guard towers and the entire length of fence connecting them, providing a massive entryway for the human, alien, and Harakoan warriors to access the armory.

Back at the armory, Putra wasted no time setting up crew served weapons in various defensive positions. Sa and Ryan took up two of the positions. They didn’t like blasters but they would certainly use them to defend the position until Ooroo relieved them.

Turel ran back to the armory. “Do you think they’ve gotten to Kah and Vorsa yet?”

Sa looked up from his heavy repeater position, “I do not know, but we need to go ahead and initiate while we still have the element of surprise. Someone is bound to miss those guards in the maximum security block.”

Turel shrugged and paused to wait for any objection from the others. Hearing none, he lifted the detonator into the air and yelled “FIRE IN THE HOLE!”

Interrogation Building
Purity Rock Detention Facility
New Tython

Brain led the way into the interrogation building. Aerin and Nathan followed him using their Force powers and skills to conceal their approach. The plan was similar to what had worked in the maximum security block. They would hit the central guard station and disable the cameras. Hopefully could secure Kah and Vorsa before the battle began in earnest. Brain used his ID badge to enter the interrogation building and moved toward the guard station.

Once Brain arrived at the guard station he found two guards who were clearly not paying much attention to the facility’s cameras. Knowing complacency could be a powerful ally for an attacker, Brain decided to play into the situation. He mustered his best barking sergeant voice, “HEY! Just what do you lazy sons of barves think you’re doing? You’re supposed to be on guard duty!”

The two guards jumped to attention as fast as they could. Both were caught unawares by the bluff and were shaking in their boots despite Brain’s clear lack of officer insignia on his stolen uniform. Brain continued the charade, “You are both in deep poodoo! I will watch the cameras. Report the Sergeant of the Guard immediately!”

One of the guards tried to interject, “But, but.”

“BUT NOTHING, GRAVEL-MAGGOT! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT!!”

The guards scurried off down the hall toward the exit where Nathan and Aerin were waiting for them in a camera blind spot. Both panicked men were taken out before they even knew what was happening. Nathan and Aerin ran up to the guard station. Nathan quickly jumped onto the computer console and repeated his slicing wizardry from the maximum security block.

“Good, no alarms yet. And only a few intelligence officers in the rooms down the hall. No more guards.”

Aerin started down the hall and motioned for Brain and Nathan to follow. “Good then we have no time to lose.”

Brain used his ID badge to open the secured door to the first interrogation room. The room was the classic interrogation set up: A one-sided mirror divided the section with the detainee from an observation section with intelligence officers and recording equipment. As the trio of Jedi burst into the anteroom, one of the three intelligence officers stood up to challenge the them, but to no avail. Before he get a word out of his mouth a blast of Force energy lifted him off his feet and sent him crashing through the mirror. Brain stunned a second officer unconscious with his captured baton while Aerin incapacitated the last one in dramatic fashion with a flying kick to his head.

None of the Jedi were prepared for what awaited them inside the interrogation room. Chained up by her arms with intravenous tubes coming out of her body was V’yr Vorsa, commander of the Knights of Allusis, veteran of countless battles, and a motherly figure to them all. It took every ounce of strength Vorsa had left to fight off the drug and poison cocktails the interrogators had experimentally injected into her system over the past weeks. Nathan and Brain rushed forward to remove her chains while Aerin began carefully removing the tubes. They gently set Vorsa down into Aerin’s lap. Vorsa groggily smiled at the face of her apprentice. “It is good to see that you are safe child.” Aerin could not hold back the tears that inevitably came at seeing her beloved leader, mentor and friend in this condition.

Through her tears Aerin looked at Nathan and Brain and gave a clear command, “Go! Go save Kah!” They two didn’t argue and raced down the hall to the next room leaving the apprentice tending her wounded master.

Vorsa could already feel a small measure of strength returning now that the flow of poison into her system had stopped and she was in the presence of her fellow Jedi. She gently wiped the tears away from one of Aerin’s cheeks and weakly replied, “No tears child, there will be time for that later. Help me. Help me outside. I need the sun.” Aerin helped Vorsa up and supported her as they headed outside.

Nathan and Brain rushed into the next interrogation room the same as before, only this anteroom held no officers. Inside the detainee area they found Kah hung up by his arms the same way Vorsa had been. The Gungan warrior had clearly been worked over by the interrogators, his body covered in bruises and cuts. Brain noticed one of Kah’s eyes was swollen shut. There was no sign of the same drugs used on Vorsa, yet Kah was unresponsive as Nathan and Brain took him out of his chains and removed the shock collar. They gently set him on the floor.

Nathan began examining him to try to get a response. “Kah? Kah? Are you with us?” Still no response. “I think he’s in shock.” Nathan motioned for Brain to help pick up the catatonic Gungan and carry him of the building. The trio caught up with Aerin and Vorsa just outside of the building. Aerin was tending to Vorsa who was propped against the building in the sunlight.

Before Nathan and Brain could set Kah down, the trio was knocked a giant explosion erupted from the far side of the camp where the armory was. Brain was the first to get up, “Damn Turel and his explosives fetish! He’ll blow himself up one of these days!” Kah, to everyone’s surprise, stood up under his own power. He didn’t say a word. The explosion had apparently knocked him out of whatever state he had been in.

Nathan looked up at the Gungan, “Welcome back Kah.” Kah didn’t give a verbal response, intently scanning the area instead. Nathan was confused. “Are you alright?”

Kah zeroed on a nearby perimeter tower where guards were scrambling into ready positions. Before Nathan could say another word Kah took off like a purple bolt of lightning toward the tower.

Brain stood dumbfounded. “What is he doing?”

Nathan stood up. “I have no idea.”

Vorsa opened her eyes with deep concern in her voice. “I don’t feel Kah, I only feel rage. We have to stop him.” Nathan and Brain took off toward the guard tower but they were too late. Kah descended on the hapless guards like a rabid lion on a gazelle. All they saw was the first guard go down and blood splatter inside the tower windows. Kah leapt down from the top of the tower and took off toward the next set of guards with a bloodied baton in his hand.

Kah wasn’t a Jedi in that moment. There was only the Gungan warrior. A Gungan warrior who had surrendered to blood lust. The guards of Purity Rock would feel the wrath of “the Scourge of Lianorm.”

Guard Living Area
Purity Rock Detention Facility
New Tython

Revak-Kur and the rest of strike team Ooroo stealthily approached the southern perimeter of the Purity Rock facility. The plan was to hit the guard barracks and seize the prison armory if the members of the Knights of Allusis hadn’t already done so. Mirus was traveling with Ooroo as the final Allusis team member on New Tython. The full team had just formed up at the base of the southern wall and was preparing to quickly scale up the wall to hit the nearest guard tower. Suddenly a large explosion emanated from the vicinity of the armory. Revak looked at Mirus. “Well looks like Allusis’ resident firebug is at it again.” Mirus shrugged. Revak turned to his team. “Do you hear that? The battle is starting without us. Let’s move it!”

Mass pandemonium broke out inside the guard barracks. The hapless guards had no idea what was going on. Word quickly trickled in that the giant explosion had destroyed two watch towers and nearly 100 meters of fence line. The quick reaction force could not get to the breach in the wall to secure it and keep the prisoners from pouring into the guard living area because two heavy repeater positions opened up on the guards from the prison armory itself. Guards scattered like rat roaches when the repeaters opened up. Some tried to form hasty defensive positions behind cover to return fire. That’s when the Jedi cavalry showed up.

Thirteen Jedi scaled the southern wall and once inside the barracks, ignited their lightsabers. The Ooroo strike team rushed the hasty defensive positions from behind. The guards suddenly found themselves caught between heavy repeater fire and an advancing line of Jedi warriors with lightsabers ablaze. Many panicked and left their positions only to be cut down by the scything repeater fire. Others tried in vain to engage the Jedi.

Revak saw where the repeater fire was coming from. “Mirus, the Knights must be the ones holed up in the armory. Do you think you can get to them?”

“Easily.”

“Grab the armory lightsabers we brought for them. They’ll probably need them.”

Mirus acknowledged the order, collected the bag of armory lightsabers and ran off to join up with his teammates while the Ooroo team pushed the guards away from the armory and breached fence. Back at the armory Putra and Ryan saw the unmistakable sight of a line of Jedi advancing with lightsabers. Ryan called out, “Ooroo is here! They’ve engaged the guard force!”

Sa was outside the armory directing a steady influx of warriors into the armory to arm themselves. “Excellent news. The tide of battle has turned in our favor.”

Turel called out from his repeater position, “I think I see someone coming this way. I think it’s Mirus.” The sight of Ooroo on the field raised the beleaguered Jedi’s spirits but the sight of one of the finest warriors on the Knights of Alusis rushing to join them raised their spirits even higher.

Mirus came rushing up to the position and set down a bag of armory lightsabers. “I brought something for you. Where is everyone else?”

Sa returned to the armory and collected an armory lightsaber for himself. He ignited the weapon and gave it a brief inspection: It would do. For now. “Nathan, Aerin and Brain went to go break Vorsa and Kah out of the interrogation building. They are all alive as far as we know.”

Mirus nodded thoughtfully as he slowly scanned the surrounding area, taking in the battlefield situation. “Ooroo’s line of advance should breach that part of the facility shortly; they’ll reach the others before we do. We should focus our efforts on helping the prisoners.” Sa nodded in approval as he ignited an armory saber. Turel wasted no time and immediately

Mirus keyed up his communicator, “Revak, this is Mirus, I will take the Knights through the detention area and into the work camp to aid the prisoner uprising.”

Mirus’ comm crackled with Revak’s voice, “Good copy Mirus, see you on the other side.”
Administrative Area, Purity Rock Detention Facility, New Tython

“Blast that Gungan! He’s too fast.” Brain exclaimed, half winded from trying to keep up with two equites. He could barely keep up with his master, Nathan, with his force enhanced speed. Keeping up with an experienced Gungan warrior with Force powers in the thrall of a feral rage was out of the question. The only reason the master and apprentice pair knew where to go was the trail of bodies Kah left in his wake. Brain was no stranger to violence but this was going too far. Nathan felt an even deeper revulsion for the wanton violence than Brain did. War was one thing, but this was barbarism. This had to end before Kah got any more blood on his hands.

Nathan stopped at the latest macabre display of Kah’s handiwork to look around and reach out with the Force for some sign of his errant comrade. He motioned for his apprentice to follow, “He went this way.” No sooner did the pair head off in the direction Nathan indicated then the sound of blaster fire and shouting began to emanate from inside an inprocessing building directly in front of them. The two Jedi burst inside the building once they reached it and followed the sound of fighting. Four guards were attempting, in vain, to subdue Kah inside a large inprocessing hall. The guards desperately fired blaster rifles at the purple blur of motion that was Kah. Kah's only weapons were two combat knives he looted from his previous kills. The four guards in that room stood no chance. The Gungan warrior wielded the knives with the precision of a surgeon, the speed of a jungle cat and the elegance of a dancer. Kah was an artist of death, the knives his brushes, blood his paint and the room his canvas.

Nathan and Brain burst into the room just as Kah was descending upon the last of the four guards. "Kah! Let him go!" Kah ignored Nathan's command. "I said, LET HIM GO!" A burst of force energy knocked the Gungan off his attack trajectory and away from the cowering guard, who had dropped his weapon in fear. Kah stood up and clicked a warning toward Nathan, momentarily forgetting about his quarry. Brain circled around the perimeter of the room in a large arc as the two equites squared off.

Nathan stepped closer, "You need to snap out of it Kah! I won't let you do this. I won't let you turn into an animal." Brain also slowly brought his arc closer to Kah as he tried to approach from behind. Neither Brain nor Nathan fully appreciated how dangerous it was to attempt to corner a predator like Kah. Kah went after Brain first, who barely had time to block a slashing attack with a baton. Nathan wasted no time, launching a second Force attack that sent both Kah and Brain flying. Brain flew backwards into the wall, momentarily stunned. Kah landed in the middle of the room and quickly sprung back to his feet.

Aerin and Vorsa burst into the room. Aerin rushed to Brain. Vorsa reached out with the Force to touch Kah's mind. "Be still. Let go. Let the fires of your rage subside." Kah paused for a moment as Vorsa continued to speak directly into his mind. “Remember who you are. You are better than this. You are better than those who did this to you.”

Kah relaxed and lowered his weapons. The Jedi had returned. “Dis place is muy wrong. Wesun need to stop dem.” Everyone else in the room breathed a sigh of relief.

Vorsa continued, “You are right my friend, the evils of this place must end, but in doing so we must not embrace that which we seek to end.” The group secured the surviving guard and left together to join the unfolding battle.

Harakoan Living Area, Purity Rock Detention Facility, New Tython

Gideon and an impressive looking Harakoan warrior with a missing arm rushed to the greet the approaching party of Jedi. “Turel, it is good to see you freed your comrades. This is Chief Whenua.” Turel shook Gideon’s hand and gave a respectful bow to Whenua before introducing his team in turn.

“This is Putra, Sa Ool, Ryan Neale and our acting commander Mirus.” After the formalities were complete Turel stepped aside to allow Mirus to coordinate the battleplan with the prison leaders.

“We need to get your people to safety, Turel has the explosives we need to blow open the mine shaft, we just need to fight our way to the mine and hold a clear path for the non-combatants to get out of the camp. Several Jedi and some of your warriors have already begun fighting the guard force in the administrative section, we should be able to clear out the work camp and hold back the guards while the rest escape. Can we count on your warriors Chief?”

Whenua stood proud, “The Harkoan people will stand with the Jedi”

Gideon stepped forward to speak for the human settlers, “As will the Tythonians.”

A Mon Calmari elder vouched for the remaining aliens and offworlders, “We all stand with the Jedi.”

Mirus motioned for the Jedi and prison elders to gather closer to him. “Then we have no time to lose, here is what I had in mind...”

Chapter II

Purity Rock
New Tython
Two hours later

Sa deflected another blaster bolt coming from one of the towers in the administration wing of the prison complex. They've been fighting for several hours already but they just couldn't breach the defense line the guards had created. They were precise and diligent in planning their tactics. Putting several thousand armed guards against thousands upon thousands of prisoners didn't seem such a mistake at the moment, at least in Sa's mind. They could easily receive reinforcements from the outside, and indeed they did. Alpha's Omega rushed in with several hundred more troops not too long after the first explosion. They needed coordination - a strategy.

A loud crash turned his gaze to the left. One of the smaller towers that was left behind, a well made wooden construction, screamed under pressure from a large wooden mass barging into it. Vorsa, now in her true form, swirled around the base of the tower, squeezing it like a snake would squeeze a person. Soon the base gave way and the tower tumbled into a heap. As she returned to her humanoid form, Vorsa started ordering Colonists to carry the rubble to the front line for cover.

"Scary." Turel said sarcastically, appearing next to Sa out of nowhere.

"Indeed." Sa replied with no little amount of surprise, as he deflected several more blaster bolts.

As an IDT transport flew above him, spotlights flashing at the crowd below, Sa observed in complete horror as it let loose a missile at the docked shuttle on the other side of the Guard barracks. Mirus and Turel, who stood not too far from Sa looked at eachother with worried expressions.

"Weren't Ji and Rhiann in that shuttle?"

***

Blaster bolts flew over the heads of the Jedi as they ran to the interior perimeter wall. Rilin turned back just in time to see a thermal detonator soaring in their direction. He reached out his hand and with the force, grabbed it and threw it back at a group of guards. The explosion sent pieces of them flying. Once they made it to the wall, the started pulling their climbing equipment out of their bags. They anchored off and tossed the ropes of the wall and began to climb.

As the Jedi repelled down the interior wall to head towards the T-4a Shuttle that would pull the injured out, they were distracted by an unusual cracking noise. Kaayn looked across the yard to see what appeared to be a giant wooden snake wrapped around one of the wood towers.

Telghar pointed “What the Fosh is that?!”

“That? That would be Vorsa.” Krandon replied as the Neti used her strength to bring the tower crashing to the ground.

There she sat on the landing pad. With all the chaos around her, she sat so. Her highly polished white hull reflected the purplish orange rays of light making their way over the mountains. She was a beacon of hope for the injured. This shuttle would take them to the Disciples, and far from this prison, for medical aid.

Ji and Rhiann had left the group to secure the ship at the rendezvous point. Gon waved to Ji to fire up the engines. A loud “chung” and “whine” brought a smile to everyone’s face. The blue glow from the engines lit up the still dark landscape. As the boarding ramp lowered a roar was heard overhead.

The roar turned into a scream that echoed off of the prison walls. A rocket flew over their heads and collided with the rear of the Shuttle sending it rolling away from the group like a discarded paper ball. The blast knocked all who were standing too close to it down as well. Rangel and Seridan immediately ran over to the wreckage. Using their bare hands, they pulled apart what was left of the ship. A female voice cried out.

“We are here,” Cough “and we are fine. Just a little shaken up.” Rhiann called out to her rescuers.

Aided by Rhiann, Seridan and Rangel lifted the elder Gand form the cockpit. Rhiann jumped out after him and brushed herself off. Seridan and Rangel carried Ji back to the others. Their escape plan was shot. As Revak turned toward the administration block and the work camp beyond, he realized that the mine and it’s many tunnels and passages were their only hope of escape.

Week 2 winning fiction: Mirus Hi'ija
Almost There
From the perspective of Rhiann Baenre.

Chaos and destruction reigned upon the world of Odan-Urr at this point. There was a ruinous pall hanging upon the air as their plan tumbled and fell from the sky like a disgraced angel, where their carefully crafted and meticulous details had gone horrifically wrong. Already Rhiann had suffered one crushing defeat when the ship that she and the Gand Jedi, Ji, had stolen from right under the noses of the guards was destroyed by a missile. She had been plucked unceremoniously from the wreckage, checked once for wounds and serious injuries-- sustaining nothing but a few bruises and scrapes, and perhaps one cut that had been immediately treated, though the nausea had at least been kicked to the wayside-- and then asked to continue the mission. In a rescue operation such as this, there was no time for pause or recourse. The time was now and the sense of urgency mixed with the chaos made for an adrenaline rush that swept through the Sephi's veins like an intoxicating drug. Her vision seemed that much sharper, as did the rest of her senses; she felt so acutely aware of everything that was going on around them that there seemed to be nothing that went out of her notice. Now that she was stable again and back in control of her faculties, she felt like she could perceive the miasma of destruction as it unfurled like a beautiful flower.

She could see the Knights of Allusis as they made their way through towards the mineshaft, where Ooroo was already making their way towards thanks to a rapidly-shouted order from team leader Revak. One by one, they began to pile in, following the lead of V'yr as she made a great dash for the tunnel with an injured Whenua in her arms. Revak afforded the Neti a quick glance before issuing his orders.

"Lightsaber wall to the front!" shouted the Strike-Team leader as Ooroo formed up to cover the escape of the Knights of Allusis. "Blasters to the back!"

The sky suddenly lit up as the Jedi drew lightsabers and blasters. Rhiann flicked her own light blue blade to life, the curved hilt warm in her hand as she felt its reassuring hum for her first true encounter with real-life combat. If she took a life here, it would be her first kill with her lightsaber. Her first battle as a full Knight. The Force seemed to pulse through the crystal at that thought, the crystal attuned to the Jedi, as it should be; it filled her with a satisfying warmth and a reassuring reminder that she was a Jedi, not an assassin. That part of her life was over.

The battle erupted suddenly as verdant and crimson blasts drew their unmistakable arcs through the air, the acrid tang of the stench of burning ozone tainting the air. Dust began to kick up as the charge of a myriad Harakoans across the ground, stalked and hunted by the guardsmen in the employ of the Thuron monarchy, made a valiant attempt at escape. They all knew most would not make it.

"Do we have any more explosives left?!" shouted Sanguinius, the brutal, hard-charging marauder, the whirling dervish with a lightsaber. His tendencies bordered on dark-side, still, for a Jedi. She wasn't sure what to make of him, but right now Rhiann was thankful for his knowledge of warfare.

"Right here!" screamed Mar Sul over the chaotic din as his lightsaber drew an arc through the air to deflect a barrage of blaster bolts. "I've got six baradium charges!"

Baradium, the most deadly explosive compound commercially available; it made up thermal detonators, proton torpedoes, even heavy proton bombs and planet-busting explosives. It was going to cause a big bang. They had enough of it to level a wall, if need be. Ooroo always came prepared with a last resort.

"Get me a hole in that wall!" ordered the Peacekeeper, taking charge of the situation like an enraged bull rancor. They would handle that on their own and give the Harakoans a second way out, towards the mines, where they could make an escape combined with the assistance of the Disciples of Baas. It would be their only way.

As the Knights of Allusis made their escape, only one man was left, the last Knight to escape, carrying two wounded under his arms - it was the titan, her Master. Mirus. He had been the one to help her into the Light, had been there for her daily to oversee the final aspects of her training as she struggled to dust off the detritus that the deranged Kel Dor had left in her mind like cobwebs. No matter what, they were a team. They locked eyes, her deep black orbs matching those wonderfully bright blue eyes, and he made her way over to her, no matter how weak he felt. He looked so weak, so forlorn, so tired, like he had been denuded of all those defences he had built up for so long and even taught her to use. This place had changed him for the worse and she would have to check up on him later. There was no time for even the most basic concern now - this was war. Her lightsaber deactivated and was clipped back to her belt, her eyes asking the silent question - are you okay? The colossus made no effort to answer, out loud or through a silent gesture. His time for that was long past.

That worried her.

"Rhiann - take her on your way out," said Mirus, appearing as if the fatigue of carrying two people was far too much for her. He handed her an old woman, looking sickly, frail and pale, unconscious from the strain of this insane battlezone. "I'll see you soon."

A reassuring hand upon her shoulder and he was gone, into the dark, murky depths of the mineshaft. Always on the move. His touch, that momentary blessing of strength, had been enough to invigorate her soul.

Her reverie was shattered by the sudden detonation of a nearby wall, taking out chunks of heavy ferrocrete that formed the supports. Mar Sul had been an excellent demolitionist this time around, busting a hole in the wall for the Harakoans to pour out of - and the support struts for a tower had fallen down with it, the screams of dozens of men falling from a heavily-armed defence tower, the sickening crunch of bone under stone and the associated spray of bone on blood as sanguine-stained rocks flew everywhere, taking their fair share of victims. Rhiann shielded her eyes with one hand, staring down at the woman that she carried.

"Revak, we need to go, we're running out of time!" came Krandon's voice like the snap of a gunshot. They did need to get out of here - before the entire army came down upon them and murdered them all. There was no time.

"Go! Go! Go!" shouted Revak, seeing that their position would be hopeless were they to defend it for too much longer. Most of the Harakoans were spilling out of the place as it was. No matter how this went, there was at least some victory to be had here. "Into the mineshaft!"

Rhiann did not need to be told twice what to do. Holding the elderly woman, the Sephi made a break for the mineshaft, letting the dust cover her body as she crossed the threshold of the dark cavern, not even looking for the presences of her fellow Jedi - she could still hear them. Her senses were suddenly assaulted with a new sensation. The air here was thick with the stale, musky scent of air that went rarely breathed with very little to no ventilation, the darkness so palpably thick that she knew that she'd need to watch her step down here lest she trip over a rock upon the hard, stony floor here.

A rather sudden detonation echoed behind them, followed by a tremendous quake that threatened to knock her from her feet as it rocked the Knight to her core - then silence. Nothing. There was not even a breath drawn as anxious anticipation crawled through her. Someone had set off one last baradium charge as they entered the cave, and what little droplets of light would have once filtered in were now gone. Voices and shouts echoed as the Harakoans began their slow march to freedom, down into the depths of the mineshaft. Even if they had to dig their way out, they would find their freedom eventually. They had come too far for that to be stripped away now. However, in the darkness that Ooroo had created, the Thuron troops had no idea where to go or where to find them.

They were safe. For now.

The cries of victory echoed into the darkness, an unyielding cry of unity that rocked the young Jedi to her core. This was a day she would never forget, both good and bad. She had seen the worst and the best of everything.

Now, to set these people free. First, a prison - next, all of New Tython.

Chapter III

Abandoned Mining Cave
New Tython

The survivors of Purity Rock had been walking for what felt like a day before a small glimmer of light could be seen in the distance. They had been beaten, starved and left to die but all that seemed to be forgotten when that little spec of light hit their eyes. Almost instantly their pace increased and some even appeared to grab at the air, as to try and climb their way closer. This was their salvation.

The mine opened into a large valley. The high mountains on the edges of the valley blocked the strong winds from the west creating a very peaceful oasis. A stream, carrying clear mountain spring water, ran down the middle of the valley. Fruit-bearing bushes with beautifully colored flowers covered the ground. Birds and small mammals scurried about as the group of Harakoans, Colonists and Jedi stepped out of the mine.

The survivors stood in awe for only a moment before making a dash for the stream. Sinking their knees into the mud, they cupped the water with their hands and drank. They collected fruit off the bushes and gathered in a circle. The children ran and played as the adults sat and chanted traditional Harakoan songs.

V’yr smiled but then gave Revak a concerned look. Revak shrugged.

“We’ll let them have this, but…” he looked up into the sky.

“They will be out in full force.” V’yr ended his sentence.

Revak nodded in agreement, as they walked over to join the celebration.

A-CRV Destructor
New Tython orbit

Moff Var Sturm stood on the bridge of the Destructor, a re-commissioned CR92a Assassin-class Corvette, and overlooked New Tython. He was a stern man who barely showed emotions. Cold, calculating, and specific were just a few words used to describe him by those who admired him. Those who didn’t chose a completely different set of words.

The Pau'an stood approximately 1.8 meters. His pale blue-grey skin hugged his bones, which gave a hint of his great age. His black, soulless eyes, sunk deep into maroon eye sockets. He spoke in a monotone, except when he was intrigued, which happened rarely. Those under his command had been with him since the days of the Empire and although no more than mercenaries, retained their military discipline at all times.

Sturm’s second in command, Vice-Admiral Yexo Prilcan, a Weequay male, walked up to him.
“Moff Strum, we received a transmission from Purity Rock. A group of Jedi attacked the prison. They are requesting our assistance. And…” Prilcan cleared his throat. “The Knights have escaped, sir.”

“Contact Purity Rock. Get us their direction of travel and have your men ready within the hour. When we land, your teams head out.”

“Yes, sir.” Prilcan gave the Moff a salute before heading back to make the arrangements.

Minutes later…

The Corvette broke the cloud cover and touched down next to a similar Assassin-Class Corvette at the mouth of a valley. The Alpha’s Omega mercenaries had already begun searching for the escaped Jedi.

Commander Thett Omega walked over to the Destructor as the boarding ramp opened and Moff Strum walked down.

“Mighty glad you can join us Moff,” The Anzati said smugly. “I was beginning to think you weren’t invited.”
Un-amused, Sturm turned to Prilcan.

“See to it personally that these Jedi a captured, Vice-Admiral.” Sturm walked back up the ramp.

Abandoned Mining Cave
New Tython

Deciding that climbing over the mountain would be too dangerous, the survivors chose to follow the stream. Spotters at the edges of the group, kept their eyes open for any sign of trouble. As they made their way to a clearing, a spotter held up a closed fist, stopping the group. He then signaled for everyone the drop to the ground.

Krandon, crept forward to see what was ahead. Parting a bush with his hands, he saw nearly 100 well-armed mercenaries patrolling the area with two Corvettes on a clearing not 100 meters away. He looked back towards the group.

“We get a ship we get out of here, right?”

Aerin moved up to get a better look. As she squinted to get a better look she recognized a figure amongst the closest mercenaries. Her teeth ground together “That’s Omega.”

Gon spoke up from behind them. “It will take the same effort to take one ship as it would both.”

“That is not a wise course of action.” Vorsa said in a concerned voice.

“I agree, but we need both ships if we want to take back New Tython.” Ji told her.

Vorsa could see his point, still the worrying feeling never subsided. “Alright, we split up into two groups and attack from the west and east. A frontal attack would be suicidal, to say the least.”

Ji laughed, “Right, guess Ooroo take the right, Knights take the left. We have the armed colonists and Harakoans with us, they can help.”

Revak nodded and started formulating a plan. Minutes later the Jedi split into two groups with lightsabers in hand followed closely by the armed colonists and Harakoans. All of them were prepared for the last big push.

Clenching his lightsaber tightly, Revak spotted another familiar figure in amongst the enemy, “That’s Vice-Admiral Prilcan. I want him… ALIVE.”

Week 3 winning fiction: Mirus Hi'ija
The Plan
T Minus Thirteen

Clustered around Mirus and Sanguinius, two of the greatest warriors available to the House in their desperate time of need on New Tython, stood the entirety of both battleteams. The pair had worked together before, on Bosthirda, where they had accumulated at least a grudging respect for each others' abilities and tactical acumen. What one lacked in deeper strategic knowledge he made up for in the realm of personal combat. Sang and Mirus made an excellent team and they both knew it. Now they could turn it to the advantage of Odan-Urr, free their teams from the last dregs of their captivity and finally escape with their lives all intact. Revak had offered his first ideas and handed the mission over to the warriors while he stood sentinel over the planning phase.

No-one left behind. That was their objective. Only one thing now stood in their way; Var Sturm and his lackeys.

"We don't have much time before something goes awry. Chances are that if we're going to strike, we're going to need one hell of a distraction before we move. One hundred men against two full battleteams of Jedi plus some armed colonists is still a long shot for us," commented Sang as he contemplated the plan.

"Strike hard, strike fast," murmured Mirus, echoing the credo of the Knights of Allusis. He could see some muted nods in the corners of his eyes - his team knew what this was about.

"What about a diversion like a landslide?" offered Kaayn Salis, the keen intellect of the group. "Something slightly away that would pull them from the ships so that we could attack while their guard is low."

"It's a long shot," groused Revak. "We'd be better off interfering with the corvettes. Better still we should try and use what charges we have left and cause chaos in the enemy ranks with some baradium."

"That's a rather big bang," Mirus said. "Wouldn't there be risk of damaging the landing struts on those corvettes? We'd never get them off the ground. And Allya help us if we trap ourselves here."

A moment's pause from all as they considered ideas and options, before the most unassuming voice of them all spoke up. "Make them come to us."

Aerin's quiet utterance split the silence with an idea that she'd had. "Like this. We dangle the bait, they move away from the ship, and we engage while they're looking for us. Worst comes to worst, we turn the guns on the ship on the guards. The Force is our ally."

Mirus, Revak and Sang shared a glance. It wasn't actually a bad idea, in theory. "If Ooroo can get their hands on their ship and start turning the guns on the guards, Allusis can charge in with support from the colonists and help finish them off. It's brilliant. Nicely done, Knight Taggart."

Revak's words of praise caused the Zeltron to blush an even deeper shade of red in thanks.

"Alright. Operational orders, Jedi: Ooroo will make a diversionary strike using mind tricks to lure away a small portion of guards and board one corvette, then turn the guns on the guards. At that point, the Knights of Allusis will assault the remaining positions and take the second vessel. If we engage Prilcan, I want him alive, ladies and gentlemen."

Nods of assent. Perfect. It played to their strengths.

"May the Force be with us all," intoned V'yr as her only words of strength and wisdom. It was now or never. This was their chance, their one and only chance, to seize their freedom off New Tython. They would not fail. They could not. Everything depended on this one moment in time.

They broke off, marching to the steadily pulsating drumbeat of destiny.

Insertion
T Minus Two

Ooroo's movement across the plains had been slow going. A hundred metre movement under the watchful eyes of just as many guards as there were metres to travel was not an ideal solution. However, with almost ten minutes to make that simple trek, they'd tightened and formulated pieces of the plan as best they could. Their liquid cable launchers would be the best chance they had at ensuring that they succeeded in this operation. With a priority objective of 'board the ship', they simply had to get aboard and make that happen. Only two minutes remained until the plan called for them to dash to action, meaning they needed to crawl as best as they could towards their intended target point. If they could not pull off their plan perfectly, then the entire team would be doomed. With it, the hopes of the colonists and the lives of Allusis would all be forfeit, too. This whole thing would have been for nothing. It was not a situation that any of Ooroo could abide. None of them would permit failure.

Ooroo's movement across the plains had been slow going. A hundred metre movement under the watchful eyes of just as many guards as there were metres to travel was not an ideal solution. However, with almost ten minutes to make that simple trek, they'd tightened and formulated pieces of the plan as best they could. Their liquid cable launchers would be the best chance they had at ensuring that they succeeded in this operation. With a priority objective of 'board the ship', they simply had to get aboard and make that happen. Only two minutes remained until the plan called for them to dash to action, meaning they needed to crawl as best as they could towards their intended target point. If they could not pull off their plan perfectly, then the entire team would be doomed. With it, the hopes of the colonists and the lives of Allusis would all be forfeit, too. This whole thing would have been for nothing. It was not a situation that any of Ooroo could abide. None of them would permit failure.

Kaayn and Sang, as the prime exponents of the ubiquitous Jedi Mind Trick, would be leading this particular section of the plan; they, along with Ji, would be finding a way to exploit the mind trick quickly and effectively. After all, with so much ground to cover, something had to happen eventually, right? The plan was practically flawless in that regard - set up the domino effect and the entire operation would fall into place on its own, piece by piece, the ripples of the waves crashing into one another to make a beautiful piece of artistry.

Sang glanced at Ji. "Ideas?" The Gand shook his head.

"I have one," murmured Kaayn, his keen intellect catching on to a quick idea. "Get the lieutenants. Make them give orders."

Now that was an idea, Sang mused to himself as a smile crossed his lips. If the lieutenants gave orders to the minions, then they'd obey without question, buying Ooroo the precious time it needed to make an infiltration aboard the corvette.

"Good thinking," murmured Ji. It'd do.

A quiet voice whispered to three minds through the Force as three intellegs intertwined thoughts together, firing synapses quickly to effect a brilliant web of deceit.

"Alright, you maggots, fall in! I want groups of five investigating! Form up some patrols and move out quickly!" ordered one lieutenant, hefting his blaster rifle. "Devil Dogs, on me!"

"Let's ride, Black Talons!"

"Lunar Wolves!"

There were other similar voices, taking up the mercenary's call to arms. Once the first examples were made, others were made too. After all, Prilcan was paying them considerably.

The trio of devious rogues smiled to one another and flashed a quick light signal to their fellow team members across the field, where the rest of Ooroo was waiting. As armed patrols began branching out in directions not unlike the spread of a tree's branches, Ooroo had a chance to make their infiltration. It was time.

Infiltration
T Plus Three

"Come on, get it open!"

"I'm trying, boss!"

"Can't you go any faster?"

"Don't rush me, Sul..."

The murmured voices, hushed by the necessity of black ops silence, tried to form a coherent argument as Revak Kur, Mar Sul and Gon Doru tried to slice their way into the top hatch. As Ooroo did not have a slicer-- that had not changed in a few days with no access to technology-- they had to make do with the technical know-how of the team as it stood.Grappling hooks and liquid cables dangled over the hull of the warship, ready for the rest of Ooroo to take up a rush aboard their target.

If they couldn't get this blasted hatch, open, they were doomed. Gon worked with fingers trembling as he applied a multi-tool and a security spike tunneler to the nearest console, trying desperately to re-route power somewhere away from the hatch so a failsafe would open it - how he knew anything about this came only from other people around him telling him what to do. What if he messed up? Sweat was beading down his face even more just at the thought.

Then, suddenly, as if in a burst of inspiration, he cut a wire with the knife on his multi-tool, remembering the old holomovies with spies in them. Surely, they had to be right somehow? Turns out they were - the hatch hissed open. Ooroo was in. Revak raised a pair of fingers and, suddenly, the remaining six members of Strike-team Ooroo swarmed the side of the vessel like a pack of kowakian lizard-monkeys scaling a tree for food.

Revak patted Gon on the back before dropping down into the hull of the ship, vanishing from view. Wiping the sweat that had rather unexpectedly appeared on his brow, Gon wasn't far behind his intrepid leader. Talk about an inspired idea - and a hell of a lot of pressure.

Somewhere, elsewhere, a silent panel flashed a crimson, pounding glow. A power failure was not something that went unnoticed.

Incursion
T Plus Eleven

Uniforms had been acquired from unexpecting crewmen aboard Vice-Admiral Prilcan's vessel, where Ooroo could make its way around hidden by the aegis of the enemy. With that taken care off, Revak and his team were free to explore the vessel as they saw fit. Sang, Ji and Kaayn were due to rendezvous aboard the vessel in two minutes' time, according to the spymaster's chrono. In the meantime, they had to locate a gun turret control aboard this ship in order to seize control of the Destructor and claim it. Once the first blasts erupted, the Knights of Allusis could make their charge.

First, however, they had to find that.

To that end, Ooroo had split up into paired teams in order to make their search quicker. Revak and Rhiann had paired up, the Hapan and the Sephi working quickly to disable and subdue guards on their way through the superstructure of the mighty beast of war, leaving a slight trail of bodies as they did so. Someone was bound to find them eventually. After all, they wanted that to happen; Rhiann and Revak wanted people to come after them and not the rest of their team, forming a distraction and running interference for the other teams of Ooroo as they tried to find turbolaser controls and seize temporary control of the vessel away from Alpha's Omega and their lackeys.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," murmured the Jedi Knight in dulcet tones. It was the standard utterance for her kind and not one to go ignored. Revak shot her an inquisitive look. Whatever she was feeling, there was probably some grounds to it.

"Well then. Let's find out-"

As the pair rounded a corner, they almost bumped head-first into a guard whose back was turned to the two Jedi. As the mercenary wheeled to face, a figure in a sharply-pressed uniform stepped forward, a wicked grin on his face. This was not good. This was the face of his enemy. This was the very man he had wished to encounter. Revak seethed as he made that connection, astounded that the Force had brought them together here already.

Admiral Prilcan, in the flesh. Rhiann's intuition had been right.

"Well, well, well, what have we here? Jedi scum, I see."

"Nice to see you too, Prilcan," said Revak as he paced back and forth, eyes locked on the officer's with an intentness to strike. Behind him, very subtly, Rhiann shifted into a combat stance with her hands on her hips, all but her hands ready to spring in case of action - and her hands were in a place that she could draw her knives and decapitate two of those men in a second, if she had to. Her Master had taught her to use her natural skill and her speed to her advantage. If she could use them, she would not permit her battleteam leader to come to harm now.

The air between Revak and Prilcan was electric. Their glaring stare down was so powerful that everybody in that room turned to see what happened first. The momentary hesitation of Admiral Prilcan was enough for the Jedi to capitalise on that second of weakness.

A wicked smile crossed his lips as he conjured the Force and slammed the ground with a powerful telekinetic wave, striking Prilcan and his cronies straight in the chest. Some were knocked backwards and staggered. Some were sent flying by the force of impact and were driven against the cold, hard durasteel bulkheads of the ship. The momentary distraction was enough for the predatory assassin Rhiann to draw her daggers and charge, a trail of blood flying freely on her dual daggers as they lanced the skin of the nearest mercenary.

Revak drew his blasters in that moment and pulled the trigger - only for the sound to be engulfed by the titanic eruption of a turbolaser blast firing, suddenly conjured from out of nowhere. They'd done it. The ship was theirs. The distraction was enough. Strike-team Ooroo could chalk up one more win.

In the distance, Revak could feel the tremble in the voice at dozens of voices summoning the will to fight. Content, Revak pointed his blaster at Prilcan's face.

"Let's dance, slimeball. You and me. My team's already got this ship. What more do you have to lose?"

The smile grew wider as the spy charged in harder than he had ever engaged an enemy in his life. While Rhiann took care of the mercenary squad, darting to and fro, Revak intended to fight a bloody dance with the Vice-Admiral and claim his own prize.

Around them, more battles flared into existence and the ship's hull rocked under the force of detonations. The prize, however, belonged to them. While Revak had distracted the crew and Prilcan, his team had taken enough stations aboard this ship to make the battle worth fighting. They had done it. This ship would be theirs soon enough.

Tenacity
T Plus Nineteen

The concussive waves of irradiated turbolaser blasts striking the ground sent the first three groups of mercenaries guarding the corvette landing zone scattering. Some were instantly vaporized in the immediate blast radius, the cleansing fire of destruction claiming their lives before the true horror of what was to happen followed along. Many of the mercenaries were felled in the initial volley, but many of them were spared thanks to the work of Ooroo's mentalists; their scattering into wolfpacks meant that many were simply not there, hunting for targets they would not find. It would mean that there were many enemies for the Knights of Allusis to fight. That was the way it was supposed to be; the Knights at the forefront of battle, taking ground and seizing objectives in the name of Odan-Urr. Their banners would raise high.

So too did Mirus, the titan warrior, raise himself high. Fearless, brave, courageous, the imposing man cast a huge shadow from the hiding place of the assault team, his aquamarine lightsaber blade flickering to life and raising over his head in two hands. To the heavens he uttered a powerful, earth-cracking cry, threatening to rouse his battleteam and their colonial allies to action.

"To me, brothers and sisters! For our freedom!"

A battle-cry to rouse the spirits - to remind them all of what they fought for. They had escaped Purity Rock. Now it was time for the revitalised Knights to take back what rightly belonged to them - their freedom. Blasters were drawn and the lightsaber wall formed, blades hissing to life as the Knights flanked Mirus, ready for his charge. Even their freed prisoner allies drew their own vibro-weapons and native spears, ready to take out mercenaries at the command of the Jedi.

Harakoan, colonist and Jedi fighting as one. Today was the first step on the long path to freedom for New Tython.

V'yr roared - an inhuman sound, one unutterable by many tongues, but the pure bestial ferocity in her voice brooked no argument and no quarter. As one, the battle-line charged, ready to take the fight to the enemy in the most glorious hour of deliverance. Blaster bolts suddenly aimed towards them, the mercenaries' attention drawn suddenly away from the seized Destructor and towards the new Jedi threat directly in front of them. The air filled with a brilliant light-show as blaster bolts criss-crossed the skies, Jedi marksmen finding their targets as the mercenaries made their own response in the form of concentrated blaster volleys - many of them deflected by the greatest Jedi bladesmen that House Odan-Urr had to offer.

Battle was the crucible in which the steel minds and tempered bodies of Jedi were truly forged and tested. Here belonged this team, out of captivity, unshackled from the chains forced upon them by Cy Thruon and his cronies. This was their true trial by fire. With the tenacity to continue despite the oppression forced upon them, Odan-Urr's finest warriors would grasp both freedom and victory in their hands.

One by one, the mercenaries fell - telekinetic blasts, deflected blaster bolts, cuts through limbs and lasers piercing flesh.

The battle had been joined.

Titan-fall
T Plus Twenty-Two

Combat was, by its very nature, a chaotic thing, with tides as fluid as the ocean and a changing dynamic that morphed every second. There was no doubting that anyone fighting in this grand melee had to have some measure of confusion and uncertainty belonging to them. However, when two warriors knew their arts cut scything destruction across the field of battle, they were bound to gravitate. When they were enemies, epic duels erupted without question. When they were allies, heroic moments of erudite lore came into being. Such being the case, Mirus and Putra found themselves near each other, the hum and glow of their saber-blades drawing them together, the inevitability almost rich.

"Nice to see you're still alive," commented the Epicanthix sardonically. "Someone needs to have a loud voice around here for all of us."

"Glad to see you too, Putra," shot back the reborn Guardian, deflecting a blaster bolt right back at his attacker with a savage two-handed swing of his lightsaber.

Back to back, the Wardens fought, their experience in the realms of combat an invaluable tool. With a shared passion and talent over Djem So, the two carved a savage path through the swathes of enemies that came upon them even as their allies fought around them. Colonials fell to the more experienced aim and strikes of the mercenaries - but for every colonial and Harakoan felled, the Knights of Allusis claimed three foes. It was a bloody battle, wasteful and destructive. Even then more heavy laser blasts rained down upon them while the Destructor, held by Ooroo, kept fighting.

All so Mirus and Putra could forge their own pathway up through the middle line of the engagement. They were the whirling maelstrom of justice, the tempest of vengeance and duty. Though the Knights fought valiantly in groups, none could match the sheer ferocity of two Djem So-trained Guardians, battle their blood and victory their air; avatars of glorious deliverance. Enemies fell at their command.

"Knights! To me!" rang the sudden shout of leader V'yr, her command acumen taking over in a moment of inspiration. She practically materialised at the side of her two best fighters, appearing ready for them with yet another cunning plan for them to execute.

"We need that ship, Mirus. You know what to do!" she added over the growing din, her voice all but blotted out by the noise of warfare. This close, however, Mirus could not miss it.

"Yes, ma'am. Knights! Saber wall to me! We take the corvette!"

Nathan, Sa and Ryan, the three next best saber aficionados in the Knights of Allusis, came to Mirus under the cover of blaster fire issued from the searing reports of Turel Sorenn and Edgar Drachen. The two were like brothers, inseparable; their marksmanship a keen competition yet again for the two to fight over. They would form cover for their allies, bolstered by the deflective abilities of V'yr herself, weaving the Force as a master tailor spun a tapestry. Its skeins were her playthings, blaster bolts flicking harmlessly away at the dancing commands of her fingers. None would get through so long as she drew breath. The Force itself beckoned at her command - and so did the Knights of Allusis.

As one, the saber wall pressed forward.

Five lightsabers dancing in unison was bound to draw attention and Mirus knew that his time was here to use the Force, While his lightsaber was certainly a deadly tool, so too was his ability to shield himself and take the lead, drawing blaster fire to himself. Now was the time to centre his drives and passions, to be like the polished mirror and the clear water. Finding himself in the Foorce, Mirus called on his strength, stopping the first waves of blaster bolts cold. Upon spinning blades did the rest find themselves shot away, even as all the attention came to the saber wall as it advanced upon the ship.

The moment the first foot hit the ramp of the ship, the blaster fire intensified. The mercenaries did not like the idea of the Jedi seizing their vessel, not one bit - and so all eyes and guns turned to them, poised to take out the threat to their transport. The searing death-beams increased in intensity.

It was too much. Eventually, a Jedi had a limit; even five Jedi working in unison with the help of others would falter somewhere. As Mirus' ability to draw upon the Force diminished and his spirit started to crack, a blaster bolt caught him in the ankle. It shattered his concentration, before two more blaster shots caught him in the leg and pectoral. Then another. Somewhere, his body had to give.

Suddenly, Mirus' world went black.

Upon the ramp of the vessel, Mirus Hi'ija fell, his comrades shielding his body long enough for the rest to cover him and draw attention away from the fallen Equite. The wall became an all-out sprint up the ramp, attempting to seize the vessel in a moment of confusion. Putra took up the rallying cries of victory and justice, followed by V'yr and the rest of the saber wall. The rest of the Knights found their own cover and would prevent new additions from joining the battle.

This ship would be theirs, one way or another. Would Mirus be a sacrifice, or a rallying cry?

Triumph
T Plus Twenty-Five

The belly of the beast was a cramped, confining, mentally overpowering place. In the steel superstructure of this titan of war, there was little room for warfare and conflict, despite the corvette's natural state and propensity for battle. However, the Jedi had the advantage. A lightsaber allowed them to control entire corridors alone. So being the case, the crew of the Omega's Cutlass found themselves at a critical disadvantage: the Jedi were tearing them apart. Lightsabers whirled and danced vicious scything arcs through the air, cutting down defending mercenaries and disarming more innocent crewmen of the vessel than they could count. However, this ship would be theirs and soon - without any time to waste, the Knights had to take this vessel. After all, the battle was going to end soon, one way or another. More forces were inevitably en route. Someone would have put a comm-call out.

"Do we split up?" asked Nathan Deciarus as voice of reason. It was a good question.

"Stay together. We push to the bridge," said V'yr with a tone of harsh finality. Perhaps all the strain of the past weeks had gotten to her, but there was a definite bite in her voice now. Even the greatest of Jedi had their own breaking points. Now, however, their freedom was so close she wanted to reach out and seize it. She had to get her people home. She had to. What kind of leader would she be were she to fail upon the cusp of victory?

"Incoming!" shouted Sa Ool, drawing the team's attention to an incoming warband of mercenaries, one bearing a rather dreaded Imperial-issue heavy repeating rifle. Those weapons were far too difficult for one to handle alone.. without the Force.

V'yr, with an impetus unknown to many, shot her hand forward, knocking the man wielding the heavy weapon over with all the telekinetic crushing force she could muster, slamming him into the wall behind him and cracking more than one of his bones. He would not be holding that gun any longer. The threat removed, the rest of the Knights were free to follow up and take out his friends, lightsabers whirling in unison.

No, the Neti would not lose here.

Their progress did not need much longer, impeded only by the occasional uprising of mercenaries - all of which were shot down almost immediately by the focused fire of the Jedi. "There's the bridge!" came the refreshing cry as the crew of the Cutlass scattered when the sight of five Jedi appeared on the bridge, lightsabers in hand - it was an immediate and unconditional surrender. No way could unarmed civilians fight off a band of highly trained Jedi warriors. Was it that easy?

Of course not. This cost had already been paid in blood.

Without hesitation, V'yr took the seat of the ship's captain, the man cowering somewhere on the other side of the room and praying for his life. She did not even spare him a second look. "Get those crew willing to cooperate to help us start this thing up and get us into the air," ordered the battleteam leader. "Get this thing powered up and signal Revak - let's get out of here! Call the teams aboard over the loudspeakers! Someone get on this ship's guns and cover them!"

Both battleteams did not need a second warning, running towards the rmaps of the ships, covered by powerful ships' guns ready to take lives in the names of protecting the freedom that they had already shed blood for. Their wounded would be brought aboard by friends, the dead brought with them as best they could - but many would appreciate at least dying on the soil of their home planet. The daring plan had worked and both ships had been seized by the Jedi of House Odan-Urr. This was the first blow. A crippling strike, delivered to Cy Thuron. He would know fear.

He would know the sting of defeat. The tides of freedom had washed over the shores of New Tython, of beloved Harakoa. This was the time of the Chosen People to rise as one.

Now, more than ever, the new dawn favoured the just.
?
Epilogue

Escape pod bay
Pride of Owyhyee
New Tython orbit

"You can't do this!" Aerin pleaded "Sa, tell her she can't do this."

The Kel'Dor looked at her with compassion "She is right, Commander. You cannot leave. We need you on Haven."

"No, my friend. This is something I must do. All that happened..." she stopped packing the bag full of equipment. "... it is my responsibility. As are those people down there. Someone must help them, and none of you can. I am the only one with the knowledge Liam has and I am the only one who can evade those mercenaries with ease."

"Meesa am coming with yousa." Kah demanded. "Yousa need help from us, now more than eva'."

Vorsa smiled as she turned to the Gungan. "My dear friend, they need you more than me. Liam and A'lora will as well, before New Tython is free again."
"We just got out of that hell, and you want to go back into it?!" Aerin pleaded with watery eyes. "I don't want them to...hurt..." she sniffed again, remembering the torture all of them went through.

"They won't, child." Vorsa assured her with a hug, something she usually never did "They won't see me coming." a smile shone on the Neti's face as she kissed her apprentice's forehead.

"Commander..." Putra started but Vorsa cut in befor ehe could continue.

"I am no longer your Commander." she let it sink in "But I have faith in all of you. Whoever Liam chooses as your leader, I have faith they will do a better job than me."

"We have one more minute before the rest of Thuron's ships catch up, Vorsa. It's now or never." Nathan's young, vibrant voice sounded from the ships comm. After a long silence he finally said. "May the Force be with you."

They all fell silent as the Neti climbed into the escape pod. "May the Force be with you all, my friends. I will see you when we liberate our home."

With that the airlock slammed shut and the escape pod ejected into New Tython's atmosphere.