Each of the guests was given a bedroom to stay in as the sun went down. The beds were quite comfortable, and they all had fallen asleep with the rest of the settlement. Silence ruled over the surrounding forest – an eerie silence that felt like a great void – and yet not one person seemed to notice.

For Targon, the sleep was short and restless. He found himself experiencing the same horrible dream from the night before. Yet this time it felt far more frightening and realistic.

He awoke suddenly and sat up. His skin was soaked with sweat. Rubbing the weariness from his eyes, he stood up and started pacing around bed. His mind was swirling with confusion and apprehension. Despite everything, he was sensing a dark tremor in the Force – something he could not decipher on his own.

If only he had Tieru with him still.

A sharp notion popped into his mind and started pinging like an enemy on a sensor grid. He had the urge to go outside and go into the forest.

At first, Targon tried to shake his head and disregard it. Such an act was not only pointless, but dangerous as well. A forest with dangerous creatures? At night? Alone? What sort of foolish notion was that?

But the urging grew stronger, as though someone was demanding it of him. He decided he could not ignore it and so he put on his robes and clipped on his saber.

The walk through the empty halls was long as he strained to find his way through the dark. Eventually, however, he found the exit and descended the stairs.

Cool night air surrounded him, and everything seemed so peaceful at first. But then the strange feelings of dread filled him again. Doing his best to keep his mind calm, he wandered the streets of the town until he reached the edge of the forest. Ignoring the intimidation that the trees presented, he headed into the dark.

The soft rustling of branches and leaves as he walked was comforting to him. It drew his mind away from the odd silence and clouded thoughts. For a moment, he forgot all about any sort of dangers that might be lurking in the woods.

That was when he heard the sharp snap of a fallen branch, and the hair rose up on the back of his neck. He could feel a strange tingling, and he knew a riled presence was nearby.

His hand slowly went to his saber, and he breathed out slowly. There was a soft rustling to his left, and he wheeled about to face it.

A raucous howl echoed as a dark shape leaped towards him. Once it was close enough to the light, Targon saw that it was another one of those creatures. In a flash, he swung his saber and cut it in half. After it dropped to the ground, the only noise made was the soft hum of his saber.

He kept his eyes scanning the dark trees around him, in case any other creatures were around to make another attack. The noise he had caused would probably draw attention to him soon enough anyway.

Something caught his attention. To his right, there was a dim and well-concealed shape – but by reaching out with his feelings, Targon knew it was someone watching him. Not a mindless creature, though, but a sentient presence.

The shadow of a person must have noticed it had been discovered, for it soon started to dash off into the night. But Targon was quick to follow. To make his way through the dark woods, Targon employed the skills he had learned from his master back in the forests of Tython.

He was starting to catch up to the person, and so he called out for it to stop. He didn’t expect to be responded to quite so readily. The shape stopped and whirled about to face him. Then two bright lights lit up in its hands. Their blue blaze and familiar hum almost caused Targon to trip over himself.

Lightsabers.

The shadow came at him, twirling the blades in a blinding flurry. Targon closed his eyes and reacted with his other senses. He caught the blades with his own, and countered a strike.

Around the two of them, the shadows danced and leaped as blue and green flashed about; the forest came alive with the crackling and hissing of the sabers as they crashed against each other.

A moment came when both their blades and their strength were equally strained against each other, causing a brief pause in the battle. Targon took that time to get a glimpse of his opponent. The face was not human, but neither was it one of the creatures he had encountered. It was a feline’s face.

Bright yellow eyes stared back at him, black stripes streaked along its orange fur, and great whiskers bristled beneath its nose.

This must be the man-tiger that the sorceress mentioned, Targon thought. But what is he doing with lightsabers? Is he a Jedi? A fallen one?

Combat started up again, and Targon struggled to maintain his own against his opponent’s agile offensive. Soon, though, it became too much and he lost his grip on his saber.

The weapon landed in the soft dirt as both blades pointed straight to his neck. Targon held up his hands to show that he yielded. Hopefully, he thought, there might be a way to reason with this person.

For a moment longer, the blades remained poised at his throat. Then, his opponent withdrew and deactivated them. Targon unwittingly let out a sigh of relief.

“I am not your enemy,” the man-tiger stated gruffly.

Targon raised an eyebrow. “Could have fooled me. As soon as I caught up to you, you attacked.”

“As would you, young Jedi, had you lived so long as I have.”

“Who are you?” Targon inquired.

“This is not a good place to stand around chatting. Follow me, and we can discuss our case.”

Targon sighed and nodded. He reached down and grabbed his saber. Then he followed the man-tiger through the forest until they came upon a fallen tree.

“Welcome to my current home,” the man-tiger announced. “Yes, I live under a log like a burrowing rodent. It’s the best I can come up with these days. Forty years of protecting this planet, and now look at what I’ve got to show for it.”

Targon cracked an eyebrow in confusion. “How about we start with introductions before we go into rants?”

“Very well,” the man-tiger crawled under the log and motioned for Targon to follow with his prehensile tail.

It was snug, but the two of them – no, three – fit well enough. The third person was already there, polishing something that looked also like a lightsaber.

Targon’s eyes had adjusted well enough to the darkness that he could tell who it was. And it surprised him greatly.

“You’re Covus, aren’t you?”

The man that had spoke to them on the steps earlier nodded. “I guess I don’t need to introduce myself, since you already know my name.”

“This is Covus Ozil, my apprentice,” the man-tiger said. “I am Master Pand Navor, Jedi Watchman of the planet Dakara.”

Targon’s eyes widened in surprise. “Jedi Watchman? Navor? I’ve never heard of you.”

“I shouldn’t think you would have,” the Master said. “I’ve been protecting this planet for decades longer than you’ve been alive, young man.”

“If you’re a Jedi…then why are you perceived as some monstrous creature that designs the fall of the people…and why is Covus depicted as a hunter that pursues you? What’s going on?”

“Confusion,” Navor nodded. “Such is to be expected when one enters a play in the second act. I’m afraid, young man…ah, what is your name?”

“Targon Karashi.”

“Well, young Jedi Knight Karashi, you have been deceived on who is friend and who is foe.”

“What do you mean?”

“I am not the creator of the plague, as the sorceress claims, and as the people believe. I am the one fighting against it.”

“And the true progenitor?”

“You should know it well enough. Have you not been able to feel the darkness that shrouds the sorceress’ temple?”

“Darkness? No, but…”

“Well, you haven’t been around it as long as I have,” Navor sighed. “But I don’t think there’s time for you to fully understand. You and your friends need to leave this world, immediately.”

“We can’t,” Targon shook his head. “Our ship was damaged. We need to make repairs – extensive ones. Perhaps you could help?”

“Young man,” Navor’s eyes were stern. “I live under a dead tree. Does it look like I have parts to help fix your ship?”

“No, I suppose not. The sorceress said she would help us…but I assume that won’t be the case?”

“Your ship is nothing to her, but you and your friends are.”

“Why? What does she want? What is she?”

“Unless you get off this planet, young Targon, you shall see soon enough.”

Covus stirred. “Dawn will be coming soon. I had best get back to the settlement and continue my work. I’ll see if I can contact your friends and warn them.”

“How long do we have?” Targon asked. “What will happen to us?”

“Perhaps you noticed how closely those creatures resembled humans? The settlement used to have twice as many people living in it only a few years ago.”

Covus was about to depart, when he suddenly dove to the ground as footsteps echoed through the forest. There were a great many of them, with heavy boots and a uniform rhythm.

“What is that?” Targon asked.

“Maybe you should take a look,” Covus whispered.

Targon crawled up next to him and looked out into the forest. Shapes were passing by a ways off. But Targon could tell, even in the dark, what they were. He recognized the armor of the large party.

Imperials.

Rick awoke with a hearty yawn and a lazy smile. It had been such a wonderful sleep – and he had such a great dream. If only every night had been so nice…

He dressed himself and opened the door. He was startled to find red haired Kwi standing in the doorway, with a queerly pleasant grin on his face.

“Good morning,” the man said cheerily.

“Likewise,” Rick nodded.

“The sorceress asked me to guide you down to the breakfast table as soon as you were up.”

“Oh, how nice,” Rick smiled. “What about the others?”

“They’re already there – well, except the young man.”

“Targon?”

“Yes, he seems to be gone. The sorceress is worried he might have gone out into the forest alone.”

“Nah,” Rick shook his head. “I’m sure he’s just out…meditating. Jedi are like that.”

Kwi gestured down the hall. “This way, sir.”

Rick followed him through a series of corridors. Everything still seemed so dark, though it was surely morning. They passed a door that was barely open a crack. Suddenly, the door swung open and the hideous face of one of the creatures from the forest appeared, accompanied by a roar that seemed more of a squeak.

The surprise made Rick jump, and small laughter answered his gasp.

“Hee hee, I scared you!” a small voice said.

Kwi frowned. “Sigi, that wasn’t very nice to scare the nice man”

Rick looked back down at the face and saw clearly that it was only a small girl with a mask. He was immediately upset with himself for being so scared of a child.

The girl took off the mask and grinned. “It was only a joke, daddy,” she said innocently. Her hair was the same bright red as Kwi’s.

Rick smiled at the sweet face of the girl. “And who might you be?” he asked her.

“I’m Sigi,” she beamed.

“My daughter,” Kwi added. “Please forgive her prank. She has been given to trying to scare people with that mask she made. I find it not amusing that she jokes about the victims of the plague.”

“She’s a child,” Rick shrugged. “Children like to play.” He leaned over to the girl. “Now, Sigi, would you like to lead us to breakfast?”

The girl laughed and scampered off down the hall. Rick and Kwi followed at their own pace. Finally, they entered the great chamber where they had feasted the night before. There were bright lights about, glowing near as brilliant as though sunshine through windows. Yet not a window could be found at all.

Greyhawk and Gabrielle were already eating and conversing with the sorceress. She was garbed in the most brilliant colors – red, green, gold, white, violet, black, and silver. Yet the only blue about her, oddly enough, were her eyes.

The old soldier looked well off, for once, and Gabrielle was bright and cheery, also a new sight. Both of them had been the more somber members of the crew, and yet here they were, as though they were the happiest of people.

“Good morning all,” Rick said.

The others turned to him. “Ah, Rick,” Greyhawk raised a cup. “Nice to see our captain finally out of bed. We’ve been up for the better part of the hour, and Targon has been up likely since before the sun rose.”

“Have you seen him?” Rick asked.

“No,” Gabrielle replied. “But being a Jedi, he’s likely out meditating.”

“Exactly what I figured,” Rick joined them at the table and started digging in. He paused when he spotted the masked Sigi sneaking about the table.

“I trust you slept well?” the sorceress asked.

“Quite well, thank you,” Rick answered with a mouth full of food.

The young girl leaped up and startled Gabrielle and Greyhawk with the loudest roar her little voice could make. It was enough to catch them with a look of alarm on their faces.

Rick laughed, “I see you’ve been attacked by my little friend.”

“Who is this?” Greyhawk asked, lifting up the girl’s mask.

“Little Sigi,” Selendis smiled, reaching over to pet the child’s hair. “She’s the daughter of my faithful servant, Kwi.” The red haired man beamed with an inner pride as she said that.

“And what’s with the mask?” Gabrielle asked.

“A mere toy to keep the minds of the young off the fear of this world,” the sorceress replied. “Many of the children have masks like these.”

Sigi grinned. “And the sorceress makes sure none of the real monsters can hurt us.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Selendis smiled and kissed the girl on the cheek.

A loud echo boomed through the walls, interrupting the pleasant breakfast. Kwi rubbed his hands together.

“Forgive me, sorceress,” he said. “It seems there’s someone rudely knocking on the doors of the temple. I’ll go see to them.”

He left, but the pleasantries did not resume. There was a stern look on the sorceress’ face, something that nobody could recall seeing before. It contrasted terribly from her beaming smile.

After a few moments, Kwi returned with the man they remembered from the day before.

“Covus,” the sorceress greeted. “What is the matter?”

“Forgive me,” Kwi pleaded. “He said he simply must see you and there was no way to keep him from barging in…”

Selendis held up a hand to quiet him, keeping her eyes trained on Covus. “Well? What is it? Is it the man-tiger?”

“No, sorceress,” the man bowed respectfully. “More strangers have been spotted in the woods. They are heavily armed and have a hostile look about them. I felt it my duty to report it to you.”

The sorceress nodded. “I see. This is…peculiar.” She paused. “We must see to the safety of the citizens.” Turning to Kwi, she said, “Spread the message that all the citizens are to seek shelter from these strangers in my temple.”

“All of them, my lady? There isn’t room…and it will be so full…”

“Now,” she said.

“At once,” Kwi bowed and left.

Greyhawk’s face grew solemn. “What sort of people are these?” He asked. “Were they armored in black and gray and have the symbol of a red hexagon?”

Covus looked directly at him. “Yes.”

“Blast,” Rick sighed. “We’re in a tight spot.”

“Imperials,” Greyhawk spat. “How many?”

“Maybe a hundred,” Covus reported.

“Blast,” Rick said louder. “We’re in a tight spot.”

“Not to worry,” Selendis rose. “These strangers will not harm anyone while I protect these people.”

“With your leave,” Greyhawk said. “Let us go and divert them away from the settlement. It is highly likely they are after us anyway.”

“That is very noble and kind of you,” Selendis said. “But it shall not be necessary.”

“Wait a minute,” Rick said. “We’ve got to go find Targon. He’s out by himself, and if he’s caught by the Imperials…”

Gabrielle rose. “Let’s go then.”

Selendis sighed. “I will not stop you. It is good to see that you care for one another. Come back when you’ve found your friend.”

“Can I go with them?” Sigi asked.

“No, little one,” the sorceress said softly. “It’s too dangerous. Stay here with me.”

“I’ll show you where the Imperials are,” Covus said.

“Wait,” Selendis said, louder than normal. “I would speak with you, Covus.”

“It’s fine,” Greyhawk shrugged. “We’re aiming to keep away from Imps, not find them. Let’s go.”

The three departed, and the temple became suddenly silent.

Covus stilled his breathing and faced the sorceress, who had stepped away from the table and towards a door.

“What is it you wanted to speak to me about?” he asked.

“The people of this town admire you, Covus, for the dangerous work you do in scouring the forest for the man-tiger.”

“I’m just doing my job to protect the people.”

“One would find your modesty even more admirable,” the sorceress’ voice was back to its usual softness. “Come with me,” she said as she opened the door to a long hallway.

“As you wish,” he nodded and followed her through, with young Sigi tiptoeing softly behind him.

The hall was extremely dark, yet it was wide and straight, so no one had any trouble getting through. Each step seemed to multiply in echoes, so that it seemed a thousand people were walking down the hall, instead of three.

“I must ask you,” the sorceress’ voice came through the dark. “How is it that a hunter of your skill has not yet defeated the man-tiger and his creatures?”

“He is quite skilled himself,” Covus replied uneasily. Something about this hall and her voice sent shivers down his spine. “Some days I find myself being the hunted one, and I must devote my abilities to keeping alive.”

“Would you say that you are learning from him? Getting better in your skills by studying what he does?”

“I suppose you could say that.”

“Or is it that you have monstrously deceived us all?”

“What?” Covus felt a sudden chill in the air, and he found it difficult to breathe.

“Could it be that you are not what you claim to be?”

“I don’t understand…”

“It’s understandable,” Selendis continued as though he hadn’t spoken. “Everyone is never what they truly claim to be. Even me. Even Sigi.”

“I’m afraid I still don’t…”

A light suddenly filled the darkness, and he found they were no longer in a hall, but in a great chamber. This room, however, was not at all like the rest of the temple. Instead of stone and grand furnishings, this room was…alive. The walls were pulsing with warmth, and a myriad of black veins created a great web. Even the floor was soft and shimmering, like silk, and it glowed with strange illumination.

“What is this place?” Covus gasped.

“As if you don’t know? Surely your master has told you by now?” There was a chilling smile on the sorceress’ face.

“My master?”

“You still cling to your lies even when you are discovered. Perhaps you are more of a foolish man than a brave one.” Selendis drew close to him. “I know you are the man-tiger’s apprentice,” she whispered. “And I know that he is Pand Navor, the Jedi Watchman.”

“What?” Covus stepped back and drew his lightsaber. It hummed to life, bright and violet. “How could you have…? No, it doesn’t matter. We will stop you, sorceress.”

“You suppose so?” she smiled. “You see, I don’t think you understand just who I am yet. All these years, and still you haven’t puzzled it out? I would have thought your master’s efforts to be more fruitful. No matter.”

“I know enough,” Covus pointed his saber towards her.

“Do you? Why don’t we ask Sigi?”

Covus turned to the young girl and gasped. The mask on her face looked as though it had been welded to her skin. And it was…growing. He realized there was no mask, and the girl was already as good as dead.

The child started thrashing and clawing at her clothes, ripping them to shreds and flinging them off. Her skin was quickly turning blue, and her nails became sharp claws and her eyes became wild and fierce. She shrieked hideously, and Covus knew that Sigi no longer existed.

“You wicked demon!” he roared and leapt at the sorceress. All of a sudden, he felt a power grab hold of him and yank him back into the wall. Nothing held him, that he could see, but he could sense the power emanating from the sorceress.

“No more demonic than you, Jedi,” Selendis’ smile had grown greater. “You can manipulate objects with the Force, and so can I.”

“You are no Jedi, Sith, or adept,” Covus said as he struggled in vain against his invisible bonds. His lightsaber had been lost from his hand.

“Indeed,” the sorceress walked closer to him. “I am something far greater.”

Covus felt something tingling his skin, and he saw that the veins in the wall were drawing towards him, and starting to grab onto his legs and arms. The tendrils coiled and spread across his skin, sneaking under his clothes and attaching to him.

He turned to face the sorceress again. In a quick motion, her clothing vanished, and she was no longer human. Her eyes flashed bright with sapphire, her skin had become a cold shade of blue, and where her legs had been, now there were a number of writhing, snake-like coils.

She glided towards him, and started to wrap her tentacles around his body, shredding through his clothing and slithering across his bare skin. Her touch was deathly cold, like the grip of the harshest winter.

Her voice however, sounded exactly the same. “A motherly kiss may have been enough to seal my power over a child, but for one such as you, I think it requires a loving embrace.” Her words were just as cool, and sweet, and soothing. His whole body became weak and numb under her hold, but he could feel…something…growing within him.

As he fell deeper into the dark snare, he heard Kwi’s voice, faint and distant.

“Sorceress? The people are coming as summoned.”

“Wonderful,” her voice answered. “Now we can be together and no longer fear the man-tiger, or anyone, ever again.”

“Anyone else noticing the quiet of the woods?” Rick asked as they trudged along.

“Yes,” Gabrielle growled. “Just like we noticed it when walking through the woods before, now shush!”

“What?”

“Has it occurred to you that the noise you’re making with your mouth might draw unwanted attention to us?”

“You’re talking just as much as me,” Rick pointed out.

“Shut up.”

Greyhawk got down and had his gun out. “Both of you, quiet and get down,” he ordered. They did as instructed, putting their hands to their guns as well.

“What do you think it is?” Rick whispered.

“I’m trying to listen,” Greyhawk answered harshly.

“Alright, alright…” Then he heard it too. Footsteps. They were getting closer, but it was impossible to tell how many – wait, it was definitely more than one.

They held their breath for a moment, and then all three leaped out with their guns pointing towards the noise.

“Hey! Don’t shoot!” a familiar voice called out.

Rick sighed with relief. “Targon? Where have you been? And what are you doing sneaking up on us like that and…” He noticed that the young Jedi was not alone.

Targon noticed their eyes. He gestured to his companion. “Guys, this is Master Pand Navor, the Jedi Watchman of this world.”

“What?” Gabrielle exclaimed.

“Isn’t that the ‘man-tiger’?” Rick asked.

“Yes, I guess you could call me that,” the feline humanoid said gruffly. “Now, are you going to shoot us or what?”

Noticing their guns, the three put them away slowly.

“You’re a Jedi?” Greyhawk asked.

“Last time I checked.”

“Prove it,” Rick demanded.

“Rick?” Targon raised an eyebrow. “Is my word not good enough?”

“Come on, now,” Rick ignored Targon’s query. “Let’s see the saber.”

“I don’t think I need to cater to your petty demands,” Navor said. “I’ve got more important things to do like stopping the plague.”

“For all we know, you created the plague,” Rick countered. “All we have is your word against Selendis’.”

“You would do well not to trust that creature,” Navor stated.

Targon sighed. “Look, this is pointless.” He grabbed one of Navor’s sabers from the hook behind the master’s back and activated it. “See, it’s real and it’s blue. Not red. He’s not one of the bad guys.”

Rick shrugged. “Alright then…wait, is he coming with us?”

“He’s going to help us,” Targon replied. “But first we need to get our ship fixed and get out of here. There are Imperials now, and the creatures…”

“Yeah, we know about the Imperials,” Gabrielle said. “The problem is, the ship is damaged and we don’t have the parts we need to get it up again.”

“Unless your friend here has some parts?” Rick suggested.

“No, I don’t,” Navor replied.

“I thought not.”

“But he and I did find the Imperial landing shuttles,” Targon said.

“Oh, well,” Rick nodded. “I guess we could relieve them of some items…”

“Let’s go then,” Greyhawk said. “I’m sure the Imperials won’t be too pleased if they find us borrowing their parts.”

“Follow me,” Navor said.

The settlement was completely empty, and it looked like it had been vacated only recently. Commander Hugo did not like that. If someone had spotted them and alerted these people, it was certain that the crew of the Lone Eagle knew that they were here too. That was going to make finding them that much more difficult.

“Sir?” Sergeant Gol asked.

“What do you have?” Hugo asked.

“The scouts haven’t seen any of the population anywhere. But several squads have had trouble with those creatures in the forest.”

“Any thoughts as to where the colonists are?”

“Personally?”

“Yes, Sergeant.”

“I think they’re all dead, sir.”

Hugo turned to face the young man. “And why is that? What do you have to base that theory?”

“Well, sir, I’ve just got this feeling.”

“A feeling? Sergeant, you are not a Sith – you cannot feel things through the Force. Give me substantial evidence to base your standing. Where are the bodies? Have you seen any signs of blood or struggle?”

“I don’t know, sir. We haven’t seen anything.”

“Then what do you have?”

“Nothing, sir.”

“I see. Well, sergeant, I’ll tell you what I think. Look around the settlement. Everything is left as it should be. Items in the shops are still up, tables and furniture are undisturbed – it’s all ready for the day, except there are no people.”

“Yes, sir.”

“So, Sergeant Gol,” Hugo looked squarely at the man’s face. “What do you think that means?”

“That the colonists just left everything behind, and the cleanliness of everything suggests they left recently. Sir.”

“Exactly,” Hugo nodded approvingly. “That tells us two things. First, the people know we’re here. And second, they aren’t far away.”

“Should we set up to pursue them, sir?”

“No,” Hugo studied the settlement again. “They might have gathered in a central area of the city to find protection – they certainly wouldn’t find any out in the forest. Search the area, find any supplies worth taking, and locate the likeliest gathering site.”

“Yes sir,” Sergeant Gol saluted and left.

Hugo continued to search the area on his own, leaving nothing unchecked. The more he found, however, the uneasier he became.

It didn’t take long to find the central structure – a large building atop a great many stairs – probably a temple. Hugo had his full force gathered to make an entrance.

“Sir,” the sergeant said hesitantly, “why are we preparing the entire expedition to storm the building?”

“Because, sergeant,” Hugo said patiently, “we don’t know how the colonists will react. Especially if the crew of the Lone Eagle have managed to illicit their aid. We could be dealing with a full mob trying to fight us off.”

“You really think so?”

“It’s impossible to be certain, but I’d rather not be caught unprepared.”

“Yes sir.”

The vanguard troops were making their way up the steps towards the entrance. Their blasters were ready to shoot anything that moved. To Hugo, it seemed like they were taking hours to climb the stairs, and he couldn’t understand what had him so anxious. There was nothing he needed to worry about. A few angry citizens wouldn’t be a match for his skilled troops.

He then heard shouting and blaster fire. Not from the building, but to the rear.

Turning around, he saw what the matter was. Those beasts from the forest were attacking – leaping from building to building, and pouncing on his frightened soldiers.

“Take positions!” he shouted. “Drive these monsters back!”

Bright red lasers flashed into the air, streaking towards the savage blue animals. Yet only about half the shots made their mark – the creatures were so quick.

Finally, the troops on the steps had reached the doors, and had begun to open them. They were slow at first, being cautious and ready, but then the opening burst wide, and dozens more of the hideous beasts poured out.

Hugo heard the screaming around him as the creatures tore the men apart. There was no formation between the ranks, no order, no adherence to training and discipline. Terror had gripped the men, and the result was absolute chaos.

A beast came near him, but he shot it dead between the eyes. Two more came close, and he killed them too. His blaster was getting hot very quickly as he kept shooting. There seemed to be no end to them.

He heard Sergeant Gol’s shouting to keep some men in line, but his voice was paling in the sea of carnage. One by one, the soldiers were slaughtered. Gol kept his command even until his last man fell. He didn’t see the creature come behind him and leap on his back. Three more came up to him, and they each took a large piece out of him.

Hugo shuddered as he heard his men’s desperate screams, but there was nothing he could do. Every time he made to help out one of the soldiers, another called out for aid while the first one was killed. He couldn’t help anyone. Not even himself.

His blaster overheated, and he could only use it to bash one of the creatures’ jaws away from him. It was over, he knew, so he reached for the only thing that might do him any good – a thermal detonator.

He grabbed it and fumbled for the activator. But then he was knocked to the ground. The small grenade rolled out of his hand and was lost in the swarm of bodies.

Hugo expected at any moment to be ripped apart, just like the rest of his soldiers, but the moment when fang and claw ripped into his skin did not come. He did, however, feel something cold touch him.

At first, he thought he was losing all feeling as his flesh was being rent, but he didn’t see any blood on him, and he looked entirely intact.

Then he saw a face, blue and alien, and what looked like a great snake constricting around his body. He could feel himself losing consciousness.

“This world is mine, intruder,” a female voice said. “Now, you are mine too.”

It had taken several hours, but the crew had gotten all that they should have needed from the hulls and components of the unmanned shuttles. Now they were back at the Lone Eagle, trying to see if they could make any of it work compatibly with the rest of the ship.

“This is a real hack job,” Rick muttered. “My baby deserves better than this.”

“It doesn’t have to be pretty, Rick,” Gabrielle said. “It just has to work well enough to get us off the ground and off to a repair shop.”

“I know, I know…but I just don’t like using this Imperial trash.”

“You have to use what you’ve got.”

“Alright, cut the chatter, both of you,” Greyhawk’s voice came from the other side of a panel. “Just get the job done and you can jab at each other to your heart’s content when we’re out of here.”

“Yeah, whatever,” Rick shook his head. “Say, how’s it going in there?”

“I don’t know who wired this thing, but I’m surprised this ship has worked for as long as it has.”

“Hey,” Rick pounded the panel. “I wired this ship myself!”

“Oh, I guess that explains it.”

“Now who’s making the jabs?”

Targon walked into the compartment. “How’s it coming here, guys?”

“Well enough,” Gabrielle muttered.

“The engines and the stabilizers are good,” Targon stated. “I think this is the last of everything.”

“Are we going to have to check your work?” Rick asked.

“Everything’s just fine, captain,” Targon sighed. “I know how to handle repairs on a ship – even unorthodox repairs like this.”

There was a clank, then a curse, then a snap, and then a sigh from behind the panel. “Alright, that’s it!” Greyhawk shouted. “I’ve got this done…now if I can just get out of here…”

“Good, now you can help us,” Rick said.

Targon shook his head and left them to their work. He walked quickly through the ship and down the ramp. Navor stood silently at the foot of it, staring out into the forest.

“Master Navor?” Targon called. “We’re about ready to depart…”

“I’m not coming with you,” Navor said huskily.

“What do you mean?”

“My duty is to protect this planet and its people. And…I felt my apprentice’s fall.”

“Fall?”

“He’s dead. The sorceress knows about us.”

“All the more reason to get out of here,” Targon stood next to him.

“No, you need to leave,” Navor grabbed his twin sabers. “I have to confront this darkness.”

“You can’t go alone.”

“Do you intend to try to stop me?”

“No,” Targon faced the master. “I intend to go with you. I understand what’s going on now. The dreams I’ve had – they’ve led me to this world and to you and to the danger posed here. It must be stopped.”

“You don’t understand, boy.”

“What?”

Navor growled. “This plague is far beyond you, Targon. I’ve been fighting it for decades, and still have yet to defeat it. You place too much pride in yourself if you think that you can defeat it after only a day.”

“It isn’t my pride you’ve pointed out, Master, it’s yours.”

Navor gave a look at Targon and cracked a bit of a smile. “So it is.”

“Okay, it’s time to get out of here!” Rick shouted to no one in particular as he sat in the pilot chair. “Despite the Imperial garbage used to stitch things up, we are good to go!”

Greyhawk walked into the cockpit frowning.

“What’s with the look?” Rick asked.

“The Jedi are gone,” the old soldier replied.

“What?!”

Targon suddenly found it difficult to maintain pace with Master Navor once they really got to sprint. His cat-like agility allowed him to weave through the trees with ease, and very soon, Targon was panting and struggling to keep him in his sights.

Finally, he caught up to him, but that was more because Navor had stopped instead of him picking up speed. The Jedi Watchman was still as a statue, his whole body tense beneath his simple, soiled robes. His lips were pursed as he bared his animal teeth.

“What’s the matter?” Targon whispered.

The orange and black fur on the master’s body stood up straight and rigid. “There are more of them.”

“More what?”

“Creatures.”

Targon’s eyes widened in shock. He hadn’t been counting on fighting an army of those monsters. How were the two of them to get through? This was starting to turn out to be a bad idea after all.

“So what do we do?”

“You can turn back and return to your ship, if you’re too afraid,” Navor suggested.

“A Jedi does not give in to fear.”

“If you say so,” Navor shrugged.

“You don’t?” Targon raised an eyebrow.

“Fear is a natural instinct, Targon. Even the lowliest of all animals has it. It’s what keeps us alive. If you follow me, it’s likely you won’t find yourself alive for much longer.”

“If we work together,” Targon countered, “we may both come out alive.”

“You’re a naïve young Jedi.”

“Maybe, but at least I’m optimistic.”

“Quiet,” Navor raised a hand. “The creatures are getting closer.”

“So, do we fight or run?”

“Which appeals to your optimism?”

Targon frowned and breathed deep. Pulling out his saber, he said, “We run straight through.”

“What kind of idea is that?”

“A bold one, and one that might just catch them off-guard.”

“They’re animals, not an army. They don’t think rationally.”

“That’s what I’m counting on.”

Targon activated the blade and shouted as loud as he could. Then he charged headlong through the trees towards the settlement. All around he could see bodies – many of them creatures, but a greater number being the Imperials. Targon could only wonder if any of them were still alive, but he would know soon enough as he emerged from the forest.

All over the settlement, on top of the buildings and down in the streets, was a swarm of the horrid creatures. They were of all sizes, and all ages.

“No,” Targon gasped. “The whole village…”

They were closing in around him, on all sides, even from behind. He had charged straight into a great web, and now he was caught.

Coming closer to him was an alien creature unlike anything he had ever seen. It seemed humanoid enough, much like the creatures, but it slithered along on great tendrils, almost like an octopus. The body – particularly the face – was familiar enough for him to recognize the sorceress.

“A brave and nearly successful maneuver,” she smiled, her burning blue eyes staring at him. “You almost caused a massive panic.”

“Not well enough,” Targon answered, holding his saber out in front of him.

“We missed you at breakfast,” Selendis said.

“I was getting some answers.”

“Not enough. What could the man-tiger tell you that I could not?”

“I could tell him whom he could trust,” Navor’s voice boomed from the forest. A great shrieking rose through the forest, as a blur of blue sabers and orange fur slashed a swathe through the horde of beasts. Finally, Navor stopped at Targon’s side. A path of escape had been created behind them – at least temporarily.

“Ah, and there you are,” Selendis smiled. “We’ve been together on this world for so long, and yet we hardly had a chance to see each other in person.”

“I haven’t come here to mince words with a monstrosity such as you!” Navor growled. “I have come to put an end to your plague.”

“Indeed? Well, you come too late, I’m afraid. The colonists are mine now, and so are the Imperials. Their knowledge and abilities now substantiate my own.”

“Silence!” Navor roared. “You will pay for your evil!”

“But we’ve only begun,” the sorceress grinned. “Someone here wants to be reacquainted with you…”

She parted her skirt of tentacles and a creature emerged from beneath. It looked much like the others, but was larger and had less animal eyes. It was these eyes that allowed Navor to recognize it.

“Covus? What have you done?!” Navor roared with a ferocity that outmatched any of the creatures that surrounded them.

“How?” Targon gaped in astonishment.

Selendis laughed. “You are meddling with powers beyond your comprehension, Jedi. Had you placed your trust in me, you might have understood. Not like this howling cat.”

“No more words!” Navor’s teeth were bared and his fur was in a fray. “I will give my apprentice the peace he deserves, and I will kill you!”

With that, he leapt towards them, but his mutated pupil intercepted him in the air, activating his own purple lightsaber. Their blades crackled against each other, and their humming of their swipes at one another filled the air.

Targon watched in dismay. He could feel the taints of the Dark Side growing in Navor’s mind. They didn’t seem natural at all – but rather stimulated by the savage corruption emanating all around them. The taint had a source, he knew, and that source was the sorceress.

He took a few steps towards her, his blade ever ready to strike down anything that came near him.

“You maintain in control of your emotions,” Selendis observed of him. “Even when the ‘master’ could not. Impressive.”

“You’ll find I’m full of surprises,” Targon said.

“Oh, I know. I felt your power when you and your friends arrived on my world, Targon Karashi. I can only imagine your limitless potential.”

“You talk like a Sith.”

“Do I? Well, perhaps it’s something I’ve gained from the mind of the commander of the Imperial soldiers. They came here for you, Targon.”

“What are you talking about?”

“They came to take you to their masters. The commander’s mind was occupied with his orders to bring you to very powerful individuals. At least you’ve been brought to me.”

“To become one of these mindless beasts, a mockery of life? I shall sooner die.”

Selendis shook her head and looked at him pityingly. “Oh, how your mind is trapped in lies. You see me as a monster – prejudice from your human culture. You see me as evil – programming from your Jedi teachings. Am I so hideous that you shun me and my children, all because of what others have decided for you?”

Targon unwittingly let a look of confusion slip onto his face for a mere second. But the sorceress saw it.

“I see you are at a loss, the societal hold over your mind is weakening. Free yourself from it, Targon. Don’t let yourself be trapped like a beast in a cage, like a fly in a web.”

The saber in Targon’s hand felt heavy. He looked around him, at the countless beasts staring at him, at the fight between Navor and his student. There was so much power in them. Such liveliness…such strength…such freedom. And the sorceress herself – a deep and powerful presence that penetrated every mind around her. A wild beauty about her, unencumbered by clothing or laws or the designs of the world. The constant swaying of her coils was mesmerizing.

A face appeared before Targon – a face he knew all his life. The blank, yet thoughtful eyes; the pointed ears; and the deerskin robes.

Master Tieru.

Suddenly, Targon’s wit and strength returned, his mind became clear and focused. He raised his saber towards Selendis.

“A fly in a web? I am caught in a web indeed, but you are the spider that weaves it. Your honeyed words and seductive aura will not hold sway over me. I am Targon Karashi, Jedi Knight and defender of the Republic. I will not fall to the Dark Side, or to you.”

Surprise flashed on Selendis’ face. “You are strong, child, but you will not stand against me. You will see your friends fall to me, and then you shall join as well.”

“Not while I yet draw breath,” Targon countered.

One of the beasts leaped at him, but he sidestepped and cut it in two. More came at him, but the same fate befell them. He swung his blade back and forth, and for an instant he turned away from Selendis.

That was when she struck. One of her great tendrils snapped out towards him, like a snake. Targon saw it too late to respond.

He was suddenly knocked to the ground as something pounced upon him. Looking up from the dirt, he saw the tiger face looking back at him, wincing.

The defeated body of the mutated Covus lay not too far away. Apparently, the student’s power and the savagery of the beast were not enough to overcome the master’s skill.

But Targon noticed it was hardly a triumph. Navor growled softly in pain. He had been struck by Covus’ saber.

No, he realized, it wasn’t from the saber. The sorceress’ tentacle had stabbed into his side when he knocked Targon aside, already the skin around the wound was discoloring.

Targon got himself up and held Navor tightly. “No,” he rasped, unable to say anything else.

“First him, now you,” the sorceress mused.

A familiar rumbling sounded from overhead. It grew incredibly loud, even deafening, and the noise sent the creatures scampering off into all directions.

Looking up, Targon smiled as he saw the Lone Eagle descending down towards them. The cannons were firing at the scattering creatures, sending them further into a panic. The ramp was lowered and Greyhawk was there, waving to them.

Selendis uttered a furious shriek and lashed out at the ship. The Lone Eagle started destabilizing, as though a storm gust had blown in. Targon knew it was her, though, and he started to fear that she truly was more powerful than he could have supposed.

Targon lifted the weak Navor, a difficult task, and tried to get him up to the ramp and to Greyhawk. The old soldier reached down and grabbed the Jedi Master, but was struggling to get him up. One of Selendis’ tentacles swiped at them, causing Greyhawk to nearly lose his grip. He grabbed the Jedi’s cloak again and held tight.

They weren’t going to get him up alive with her attacks, so Targon gave a hard push at the Jedi, aided by the Force, and leapt towards her. Leading with his foot, he struck the sorceress’ chest with a hard kick.

She was knocked back, but still stable. The same could not be said for Targon. He landed flat on the ground, the air knocked out of him.

Groaning, he got to his feet. He turned around barely in time to see another of Selendis’ coils lash out. This time, however, he was able to barely get out of the way in time.

Reaching out, Targon felt a weak part of the wall in a nearby structure. He concentrated and ripped the piece out and flung it at Selendis.

Turning to the ship, he was relieved to see Greyhawk had gotten Navor up safely – with assistance from Gabrielle.

It was over here. There was nothing to be done to help the colonists or the Imperials. Selendis had taken this world, and would take them too if they didn’t leave now. With a sorry sigh, Targon leaped up to the ramp just as it was starting to close. With great effort, the ship was able to ascend into the air and out of the atmosphere.

Targon entered the cockpit and plopped down, exhausted and disturbed.

Rick turned to look at him and shook his head. “You Jedi, always rushing off into trouble.” Seeing Targon’s face, Rick decided not to go into his rant he had been preparing the entire trip over here. He said simply, “Well, I guess this settles the score for when you saved my sorry butt in that arena on Corellia. We are leaving this planet now, for good.”

Targon smiled weakly, but felt himself losing consciousness. Somehow, a greater strain had been exerted from him than he had thought. He had no idea why.

He opened his eyes and saw stars.

“Why aren’t we in hyperspace?” he asked.

“Well,” Rick pointed out the window. “That’s why.”

Targon saw it – the Imperial warship. “They have us in a tractor beam?”

“Yep.” The disgust and anger on Rick’s face was obvious. They were supposed to have escaped, not get caught by the people who put them on the planet in the first place.

Gabrielle walked into the cockpit. “Oh, you’ve got to be kidding me!” she groaned as she saw the ship. “Why didn’t you take us into hyperspace when you had the chance?”

Rick turned to her. “Well, the worthless junk from the Imperial shuttles didn’t help as much as we hoped. I can’t seem to get the ship to jump. And they did catch me by surprise.”

“Shut up, I wasn’t asking for excuses!”

“Look, lady, you’re not exactly helping…”

Targon felt something odd – an idea to activate the hyperspace jump again. He started to do so.

“What are you doing?” Rick asked. “We can’t jump if we’re caught in a tractor…beam…” He trailed off as they all stared at the ship outside. It was shaking wildly, ripping apart, and even collapsing on itself. Suddenly, the ship exploded, stars became lines, and the Lone Eagle lurched into hyperspace.

“What. Just. Happened?” Gabrielle gasped.

“We…escaped?” Rick shrugged.

“We were let go,” Navor’s weak voice said from behind. He was walking, but his stance was uneasy. His face looked haggard, and the black stripes on his fur had turned pale blue.

“What?” Targon asked. “I just got the inspiration to punch in and…”

“Selendis destroyed the ship to let us go,” Navor cut him off.

“And why would she do that?” Rick asked, overtly skeptical of the master’s claim.

“She wants us, and she won’t let anyone else have us.”

Targon nodded. “I understand. We shall be seeing her again?” The thought sent a freezing chill through his body.

“Yes,” Navor replied. “We shall see her again. Soon enough.”

Targon stared blankly out into the mottled blue panorama outside the cockpit window. The color reminded him all too well of the horrors on that simple little world. But it wouldn’t do to let the memories determine how he viewed the world now. After all, he had seen far worse with Khan Arc-Saal. And Targon had defeated him.

“Hey, could you hand me that springy little contraption?” Rick’s voice came from below.

Shaken from his thoughts, Targon grabbed the requested item and leaned over to hand it to Rick. The captain was on his back, halfway under the dashboard. His legs kicked out occasionally as he shifted.

“Thanks,” Rick said when he had the part.

Targon sighed. “You know, I had really thought we had gotten all this fixed.”

“Hey, what can you expect from cheap Imperial engineering? Besides, it’s not like we had the finest mechanic shop around.”

“I know, I just thought we wouldn’t need to do this.”

“Well, we should consider ourselves lucky that we’re still in hyperspace. At least we’ll be back to a civilized system and we can get the repairs we really need.”

“Where are we headed, anyway?” Targon asked.

“Nar Shaddaa. I have an aim to get lost.”

“Is that such a good place? I mean…we haven’t exactly made a lot of friends with criminals lately.”

“Oh, don’t worry about that. It’s not like crime is the only thing going on there. How are they going to find us anyway? Nar Shaddaa is one of the best spots to get lost. We’ll be fine, trust me.”

“If you say so.”

Rick sighed and emerged from the panel. “Look, if it will set your mind at ease, look at it this way – we’ve got the Empire and a powerful, freaky alien after us. With figures like that, who would touch us? And I can promise you that neither the Empire or the sorceress will be finding us on Nar Shaddaa anytime soon.”

“I find your reasoning questionable.”

“Fine, don’t trust me. That’s cool. Go and meditate then, since that’s what you Jedi do to relax, isn’t it?”

Targon sighed. “It’s not that I don’t trust you Rick…It’s just…well, it just seems wherever we go we get into some sort of trouble.”

“Yeah, you’re right…but I feel a change in the wind now.”

“That’s probably a glitch in the life support system.”

Rick chuckled. “That too.”

The lights were dim, and the air was hazy with smoke and ripe with greed. A group of five men – all dressed in a varied assortment of garb – stood in a half-hearted semicircle. All their eyes were glued to Moff Taan as he walked into the room.

“Good evening, gentlemen,” he said casually. “I trust you have all been treated comfortably?”

There was only silence in reply.

“I see we can dispense with the pleasantries,” Taan nodded. “So let’s just get to business then, shall we?”

One of the men stepped forward. He was dressed in battered armor, with a filthy coat. “We came here to make money, not chat with Imperial princes.”

“Yes, of course,” Taan showed no sign of annoyance at the man’s rudeness.

Another man snorted. “I came to make money for myself, not to work with the likes of that filth.” This person was covered in a battle suit and full of equipment, but the most noticeable thing was that he had only one hand.

The first man knew he had been insulted and glared at the second. “Watch yourself, buddy, or you’ll find yourself missing your other hand.”

At that, the armored man snorted again. “I’d like to see you try.”

“Look at them start squabbling like a pair of hens,” a short man in a re-breather mask and an old, tattered hat laughed. “It’s obvious who won’t be getting paid for the bounty.”

A large Wookie that stood next to him barked out a chuckle and said something in a low growl.

“Gentlemen, please,” Taan raised his hands. “Let’s start this meeting a little more civilized, if we could.”

“Where did you find these…people?” a Zabrak asked. A visor covered his eyes, but the contemptuous look on his face was easily discernable. “I thought only professionals were invited, not common thugs.”

The man in the filthy coat walked over and bared his crooked teeth at him. “You’d best leave insults unsaid, unless you want some of the same.”

The Zabrak ignored him and turned his face in disgust. “Please don’t stand so close to me, I can smell your rancid breath. What? Did you brush your fangs with bantha fodder?”

Taan sighed. These were bounty hunters, all right. They didn’t seem so hostile before he entered…but that may have been because they were busy thinking of ways to kill their competition. What was the matter with them? He hadn’t even given the assignment and they were already at each other’s throats.

Their arguments and bickering started to escalate until Taan was certain they were going to come to blows. He was seriously considering calling in his blackguards to remove the bounty hunters from the ship…

That is, until an angry voice from behind bellowed, “Silence!”

Each of the hunters shut up immediately. A tall figure entered the room, armored head to toe in thick mando durasteel. A ragged red cape draped behind him.

“Moff Taan did not have you all brought here so that you could have childish tantrums in front of him,” the Mandalorian snarled. “You were brought here for a job. If you’re not interested, then I’ll kill you and see that we find some people who are.”

Silence.

“Good. Now that we have settled the matter, let’s continue.”

“Thank you, Algayne,” Taan nodded to the warrior. “Now then, here is the target I would like you to find.” A holoprojection of a ship appeared from a table nearby. “This ship is called the Lone Eagle, and its captain is a smuggler by the name of Rick Orlan. Each of you has been given a datapad with all the necessary information. I want this ship and its crew, found, captured, and brought to me.”

“Sounds easy enough,” the man in the hat shrugged. “How much is it worth to you?”

“Ten thousand for each member of the crew brought in unharmed.”

“Unharmed?” the filthy man spat. “Why?”

“Because he said so, Griff,” Algayne replied.

“Okay then, unharmed as you say,” the one-handed man nodded. “Anything else?”

“I would prefer they be found as quickly as possible,” Taan answered.

“You’ll get your ship,” the short man said. “But you’d better have the money ready.”

“It will be, if you bring them in. And remember, no killing, no torturing, and no disintegrations.”

There was an awkward pause.

“Well, you have your job,” Algayne growled. “What are you waiting for? Get to it! We don’t pay you to stand around.”

The bounty hunters left one at a time, making sure they weren’t too close to each other. None of them spoke as they departed, either.

“Worthless slime,” Algayne spat when they were gone.

“Not entirely worthless,” Taan held up a finger. “They have some use to us.”

“Any of my warriors is worth a thousand of the likes of them. Why did you bother with hiring them anyway? My boys are already out searching for the ship and its crew.”

“Yes, but think of how your men will have an easier time of it when the Lone Eagle is too focused on escaping common bounty hunters?”

“True, and I have no intention of giving Rick or his friends a chance this time,” Algayne nodded. “Still, I think you could have done better than that smutty Griff Ponz or that philandering schmuck Hel Katarn.”

“You disapprove of them?”

“They’re dumber than a Coruscant granite slug. That little man, Djehad Nguyen, is fine – and his beastly friend Rook is strong. But they’re both wanted by several governments, and won’t be able to sneak around easily. The cripple, Jet Harro, is respectable, but he’s long since past his prime.”

“Yes, well,” Taan smiled, “they all are willing to work cheaper as well.”

“It won’t matter. They’ll get themselves killed, either by Rick or my men.”

“True enough. And it is you who should be bringing Rick and his ship in anyway.”

“I guess I’d better be going,” Algayne said. “I look forward to working with you in the future, Moff.”

Taan was alone when Algayne left. But after a few quiet and easy moments, there was a beeping on the holoprojector. He reached over and activated it. The image of a man in a hood and cloak appeared. His face was hidden by a skull shaped mask.

“My lord,” Taan bowed. “I have dispatched the bounty hunters, and the Mandalorians.”

“Excellent,” the man smiled. “With so much chaos and confusion, my own agent will have no trouble finding his quarry.”

“Your…own agent?” Taan’s eyebrows rose in confusion.

“You didn’t think I’d be counting on some thugs to handle the job, did you?”

“I…” Taan struggled to find the right words. “I had figured you would include me in on this other agenda…”

A holographic finger pointed harshly at him. “What I do is my own concern, Taan. You need only focus yourself on your own tasks.”

“Yes, my lord.”

The image faded away like a specter.

The Lone Eagle set down on a landing pad with a larger clatter than Rick would have liked. He winced with each clang and bump as though it were a pinch in the heel.

“Rick,” Targon said, “you know it’s going to be fine, don’t you?”

“Hopefully.”

“We’ll find a good and honest mechanic, and she’ll be as good as new.”

Rick shook his head. “That’s just it though… We have to find a good and honest mechanic, and we need to afford the repairs.”

Targon raised an eyebrow. “I figured you were going to try you’re luck at the card tables. That’s what your plan usually is, isn’t it?”

“Buddy, this is Nar Shaddaa. There are more cheaters and skifters on this world than most other worlds combined. Trying to win big here will be…”

“Difficult?”

“Impossible.”

Targon sighed, “Coming from you, that doesn’t sound good.”

“What are you two moping about in here?” Gabrielle asked as she stepped into the cockpit.

Rick turned to her. “Money, that’s what. How are we supposed to afford repairs?”

“I thought you were good at cards…”

“We already went over this,” Targon shook his head.

Gabrielle sighed. “Well, I guess it will be up to me to get the money then, eh?”

“How?” Rick asked.

She gave him a look. “What was I doing on Corellia before we met?”

“Bounty hunting?”

“Before you figured that out,” she rolled her eyes.

A shock came on Rick’s face. “You mean you’re going to find a bar, get on the tables, and strip off your clothes?”

The fierceness of Gabrielle’s eyes looked as though they would strike Rick dead that very moment. “No, you idiot, I’ll sing.”

“Oh…” Rick’s face turned bright pink.

“Where?” Targon asked.

“Wherever I can,” Gabrielle replied. “You boys enjoy your time together…moping…while I go earn some credits.” She left the cockpit and went down the ramp.

“Don’t you think someone should go with her?” Targon asked.

“Eh? Did you see that look?” Rick’s voice was weak with fear. “I think she can handle herself.”

“Still…this is a rough place.”

“You want to go? That’s fine with me. I’ll just see about getting repairs…”

“I’ll be back soon,” Targon stood. Then he added, “To make sure you’re alright.”

“You don’t have to worry about me,” Rick shrugged. “There’s still Greyhawk and that other Jedi here to keep me company. Speaking of which, how is the cat?”

“He’s resting right now. I…don’t know if he’ll recover soon.”

“Well, you know Cathar – they’re tough.”

Targon raised an eyebrow. “If you say so.”

“Are you going or what?”

“I’m going.”

Targon rose from the seat and left the cockpit. As he went for the ramp, he passed the medical bay where Navor still lay, clawing at the bed in pain.

“He doesn’t look good,” Greyhawk said from behind.

Targon turned to him. “Is there nothing we can do?”

Greyhawk shook his head. “Maybe Jedi have ways…but this is far beyond me. I’m just a soldier, after all.”

“Do you think he’ll…?”

Greyhawk shrugged. “No idea, but the fact he hasn’t done any mutating yet gives us some hope, I believe.”

“Some hope is always better than no hope.”

“Were you heading out?”

Targon sighed. “Gabrielle’s probably long gone by now. Now that I think about it, Navor probably needs more help from me than she does.”

“Perhaps. All the same, I think I’ll go out and make sure no trouble gets started.”

“You?”

“Don’t give me that. I told you before, I may be old, but I’m not helpless.”

“No need to remind me, I remember.”

Greyhawk patted Targon’s shoulder. “I’ll be back.”

When the old soldier left, Targon sat down beside Navor. He placed his hand on Navor’s trembling claws to let him know he was there.

“I never had the chance to thank you,” Targon said softly. “It should be me lying there on the bed.”

Navor’s eyes opened. “It was my fight…” he rasped. “My sacrifice to make.”

“Is there anything I can do?” Targon asked.

The Jedi Master’s eyes had a tinge of sorrow. “No.”

“Don’t lose hope,” Targon said sternly. “There is always hope.”

“It is good of you to keep faith,” Navor grimaced in pain. “But I know that it is over for me.”

“I can’t let you end like this,” Targon said. “You can’t have failed your task.”

“But I did.”

“No,” Targon shook his head almost childishly. He raised his hands over Navor’s chest and focused himself through the Force. Sensing the strains of poison through the Jedi’s body, Targon concentrated on extracting it from his body. Yet each time he made contact with the foreign essence, it fled deeper into Navor’s body.

The Jedi Watchman’s hand suddenly clasped Targon and nudged him away. “Enough,” he said weakly. “It is useless. This power is beyond either of us, and it will only be a matter of time before my strength fails me.”

Targon shook his head defiantly, but Navor’s yellow eyes stared deep into him.

“All I can ask…” Navor began. “…All I can ask is you give me a clean death, so that I can become one with the Force as myself, and not as a monster.”

“I can’t do that,” Targon stood up. “It is not the way of the Jedi. It is not right! You will be healed – I’ll find a way.”

“Foolish and headstrong,” Navor sighed. “Yet brave and noble. What can you do? What can I do? For all our Jedi training, we are as little children when faced with a darkness we cannot understand. I thought I could defeat it…I was wrong. I was a fool. Do not be such a stubborn fool as I, Targon. End it now.”

“I…” Targon backed away. “I can’t…I won’t!” He gave into the childish impulse to flee the room. He ran down the ramp, along the docking bay, and out into the labyrinth of streets, buildings, and alleys of the Smuggler’s Moon. All the while, he tried desperately to hold back tears. He didn’t even know why tears were welling in his eyes.

He kept running, not knowing where he was going. He didn’t care anyway. All around him were throngs of people – people who had absolutely no idea the pain a brave man was going through, or the great evil that lurked in the edges of the galaxy. They had no idea of Selendis and her power to consume worlds and the inhabitants of them.

Targon finally stopped when he found himself at a dead end in a dark alley. He didn’t know how he had gotten there, but he figured the only way to find out was to go back. As he turned around, he saw a familiar, yet unwelcome face.

“Well, well,” the Kiffar Mandalorian smiled. “Look what I have here. It looks like the Empire had no need to hire those bounty hunters after all, since I’ve already found you.”

“Bounty hunters?” Targon raised an eyebrow. “I had figured Algayne would have his lackeys looking for us, but not the Empire.”

“You’ve stirred up a lot of trouble, Jedi,” the Mandalorian spat. “But the only one you need to worry about is me. I told you I’d have your head as a trophy.”

Targon grabbed his saber. “Yes, you did mention that; but I had figured you were simply upset about your leg.”

“A warrior always means what he says, and makes good on his promises.”

“I have no wish to fight you,” Targon said after taking a deep breath to calm himself.

“Easier work for me then,” the Kiffar said as he pulled out his pistol.

Targon’s saber sprung to life as the Mandalorian fired. With ease, each shot was deflected into the ground or the walls. Another shot came at him, but Targon simple leaped over it.

The Mandalorian came at him now, a vibroblade in hand. His attacks were fierce and quick, but they were also clumsily predictable. Targon was able to parry without too much trouble.

Something tugged at his senses. He turned to find two more of Algayne’s Mandalorians had appeared from behind, each holding a blade of their own.

All three came at him at once, and he had to concentrate heavily on keeping a solid defense against all of them. There were a few narrow misses, where the blades sliced through his robes and caught his skin.

Targon caught the Kiffar’s blade, and then kicked a second man that came at him. Then he smacked the first Mandalorian in the face with the handle of his saber.

He could then focus himself on a single opponent for a moment. But it was long enough. He cut down the third man and now had a way out of the alley. Starting to run, he suddenly found himself knocked to the ground.

The other Mandalorian had tackled him by taking out his legs. The Kiffar now stood over him, ready to plunge the blade into his backside.

Reaching out with the Force, Targon called a large garbage bin towards him. The large object smashed into the unaware Kiffar, giving Targon a chance to free himself from the other man’s hold.

Targon leapt to his feet and made to get out of there again. Just as he was nearly out of the alley, however, he felt something heavy strike the back of his head. It was the lid to the garbage bin.

He collapsed to the ground from the blow. His vision and his thoughts were growing fuzzy in his discombobulated state. But he could hear the approaching footsteps from behind.

His saber was gone. He couldn’t see where it was. A wash of panic was starting to grow quickly in his mind.

But his wits and training returned to him. Reaching out, he found his saber a few feet away from him. His hand couldn’t reach it, but it didn’t have to.

At first it barely budged, but then it leaped up into the air, activated, and swung at the pair of Mandalorians as they grew close enough.

Targon heard the sounds of them falling lifeless to the ground and breathed a sigh of relief. It was a gamble he had played – one he was not entirely certain would have succeeded.

It was a few moments before he felt stable enough and could see well enough to stand and continue on. He had to get moving, he knew. For there would definitely be more of Algayne’s men showing up before too long.

And he knew now that there were also more bounty hunters.

“I’m really starting to agree with Rick,” he muttered to himself. “Can’t we go anywhere that we’re not getting into danger?”

“What do you mean you don’t hire aliens?!” Gabrielle’s eyes were glaring harsh enough to kill a dozen people at a glance.

“Look lady, I already told you,” the fat owner of the club said. “The patrons here at the Pretty Lady are of a higher class. And since most of this world is dominated by non-humans, they want to be in a comfortable place where they can be with their own species.”

“Your signs outside say that all talent is welcome!”

“No, they say that all human talent is welcome. We pay good money for good performers that the patrons want to see. They pay good money to be part of the experience. What would they say if I let a cantina rat start singing on the stage?”

“You’re disgusting,” Gabrielle snarled. “You’re not even going to let me try out?”

“Lady,” the fat man shook his head, jiggling his numerous chins. “If you want to sing so bad, why don’t you go to one of the many other bars around? Those that welcome your kind?”

Gabrielle’s hands started inching towards her blasters.

“I warn you, any hostility will be dealt with harshly,” the fat manager said. “The security here is very tight, and Nar Shaddaa will find itself short one Twi’lek if you try anything.”

“What’s going on here?” Greyhawk’s voice asked from behind. Gabrielle turned to see the old soldier approach.

“Nothing to worry about, my good man,” the manager smiled amiably. “Just a little trouble with the unwanted.”

“Yes, I noticed,” Greyhawk nodded. “Why don’t you step aside so the lady can go through?”

The man blubbered. “What? Don’t you know that this is an exclusive club and aliens are not allowed? Is this tramp a friend of yours, good man?”

“Tramp?!” Gabrielle made a move to slap him, but Greyhawk’s strong hand held her back.

“Come on, Gabrielle,” the old soldier said calmly. “He’s more trouble than he’s worth. Let’s find somewhere else.”

“Yes, go someplace where you belong, both of you,” the man said, indignant at being threatened by a woman – an alien woman.

The two moved along down the street, leaving the Pretty Lady behind and not making the effort to bother looking back. Gabrielle’s face was flustered.

“First slave owners like Quinn, then that colony of people, and now that fat oaf…Are all humans such biased pigs?”

Greyhawk gave her a look. “Rick, Targon, and I aren’t like them. Are we?”

“No…” Gabrielle nodded. “No…but just about everyone else…”

“I’ve seen a lot of things in my life,” Greyhawk said. “I’ve seen humans and many other races capable of injustice and prejudice. But I’ve also seen many of the same be kind and noble and tolerant. You can’t let a few people lead you to make judgment of all.”

“Thanks dad,” Gabrielle rolled her eyes.

“I’m just trying to help,” the old soldier shrugged.

“Sorry…I’m just upset right now.”

“Sure you are, just as I would be. Now, let’s say we find ourselves a better place to line a gig, eh?”

“We’ll probably have to find a place that’s less hospitable to humans,” Gabrielle pointed out.

“Bah, what do I care? As long as they’ve got drinks and food worth the money, I’ll be fine with whatever the company may be.”

They kept walking until they found another club – one that looked like it might pay well, and it didn’t look too much like a slum. There were a few guards outside, keeping a close watch on the people that went into and out of the club.

When Greyhawk and Gabrielle approached, they held up their hand to stop them.

“I haven’t seen you folks visiting here before,” one of them, a Gran, stated. “Whatcha want here?”

Gabrielle stepped forward. “I’m looking for a singing gig. Perhaps I could see the owner of this establishment to talk about employment?”

The guards looked at each other, and then the other one, a Nikto, snorted. “Boss Kusten prefers dancers to singers. So do the customers.”

“I can dance,” Gabrielle said.

“You’ve certainly got the looks,” the Gran nodded. “Who’s this?” he pointed to Greyhawk. “Your bodyguard?”

“More like my agent,” Gabrielle replied at once. “He takes care of all my paperwork and deals.”

The old soldier said nothing, but she could tell he felt uncomfortable with the role he had been placed in.

“So can we see the owner or not?” Gabrielle asked impatiently.

They took a while to think about it, but then they replied, “Sure, go on in.”

Inside was a mess of people, mostly men, gathered around a number of tables. On these tables, spinning and dancing around glittery poles, were exactly the kind of dancers Gabrielle had been hoping wouldn’t be the type.

She sighed. “This isn’t going to work.”

“I’ll say…” Greyhawk gaped. “There weren’t any signs outside that suggested this was a strip club.”

“Well, what can you expect from Nar Shaddaa?” Gabrielle shook her head. “Come on, let’s get out of here before they start ogling me like these girls.”

Someone stepped in front of them.

“Now what’s a pretty dame like you doing in this scum pit?” the man asked.

“Leaving,” Gabrielle replied sharply.

“I can see that. What were you doing here in the first place? Picking up men? I think someone like you could do a lot better than this old fossil with you.”

“Excuse me?” Gabrielle glared at him. He was a Zabrak, with handsome features surely, but there was a cockiness about him that was almost palpable. “And who might you be?”

“You don’t know? I thought all the chicks knew Hel Katarn.”

“Nice to meet you,” Greyhawk said. “Now if you don’t mind, we’re leaving right now.”

“I couldn’t help but hear your problem, missy,” the Zabrak ignored him. “You looking for a singing job? It just so happens that I know a place that would love to have you. If you’ll follow me, I’ll take you there myself.”

“That’s very kind of you,” Gabrielle said uncaring. “But we really need to go.”

His hand grabbed her arm tightly. “Oh, but I insist that you come. Your singing career will skyrocket, and you’ll be an intergalactic star by the end of the week. I promise you.”

“Kindly unhand her,” Greyhawk ordered gruffly.

“Look gramps,” Katarn turned to him. “Why don’t you hit the road, or a senior center? The lady’s got more important people to be with than you.”

“Let go of me,” Gabrielle growled menacingly.

“Ooh, the lady’s got attitude,” Katarn smiled. “I like that in a girl. Instead of the stage, why don’t you and I find a hotel and have a real good time.”

“I asked nicely,” Gabrielle’s face darkened.

“Am I supposed to be scared of you? You’re too pretty to be scary.”

“I guess we’ll find out…”

There was the sound of a blaster shot, and then another outside. The door burst open and an ugly man with a filthy coat barged in with a blaster carbine. He smiled a crooked toothy grin when he spied the soldier and the Twi’lek.

“Everyone remain calm,” the man shouted. “I’m here for those two,” he pointed to them. “Nobody moves, and this will be quick and painless.”

“You again, toilet mouth?” the Zabrak called back at him. “You’re too late. These guys are mine.”

“We’ll see,” the dirty man pointed his blaster.

Greyhawk was faster. He swiped a chair out from a customer and flung it at the armed intruder. Then he charged forward and slammed man into the door. The two started scuffling, with the whole club watching them.

The old soldier grabbed the bounty hunter and tossed him out the door, soon following.

The Zabrak suddenly put a big hand over Gabrielle’s mouth and started dragging her through the club to the back door. He was strong, and harsh.

“You could have made this a whole lot easier, schutta,” he hissed in her ear. “All you had to do was be a good little girl and come with me.”

They were out in an alley now. He was leading her towards his speeder. As he slightly lessened his grip to get the door open, Gabrielle bit into is hand hard.

He yelped and pulled away from her for a split second. Then he came at her again, but this time she was ready. With a straight and quick kick to the groin, he was incapacitated.

As he lay on the ground, writhing and moaning curses, she climbed into his speeder and started it up. The engine revved with a loud whine as it lifted up and sped off.

Gabrielle sharply turned the vehicle in the air and set down right next to where Greyhawk and the other man had gotten into a nasty little fistfight. Opening the door, she shouted at the old soldier to get in. But before he could, something landed on the hood of the speeder.

It was a fully armored man with a jetpack. He pointed a blaster straight at Gabrielle, motioning her to get out of the vehicle. In his other hand was…nothing. The man’s left hand was missing. Something about that was familiar…

Silently cursing, Gabrielle complied with his order and got out. Greyhawk was still busy beating the other man’s face in, and getting beaten up by him as well. And from around the building came Katarn, still cringing and gripping his groin.

“Game’s over boys,” the one-handed man said behind his helmet. “They’re mine.”

“What makes you think that?” Katarn asked.

“Because I’m the only one who hasn’t been beaten by the bounty, that’s why.”

Katarn stood straight and pulled out his own blaster, aimed straight at his competitor. “You haven’t won this thing yet, Jet Harro.”

Gabrielle’s eyes widened in surprise. This was Jet Harro, one of the most respected bounty hunters in the galaxy – his career had lasted over twenty years, during which he had captured forty-seven bounties with only one hand.

She knew about him, but she had no idea who these other two scumbags were. They certainly weren’t as famous as Jet.

A noise drew her attention. Greyhawk had fallen to the ground, his muscles twitching heavily. The man in the ratty coat held a stun baton in one hand, and the carbine in the other.

“You may have her now,” he spat. “But do you think you’re going to be able to keep her?”

There was a long moment where the three bounty hunters stared each other down, their guns ready to fire. The air had grown still, and everything was silent. Gabrielle was starting grow nervous, wondering who would make the first move, and who would be getting out of this alive.

Rick was walking up to the repair shop manager’s office with low spirits. He was sure that he knew what was going to happen. He’d ask for repairs for his ship, the guy would demand money up front. Then the mechanics would find more problems with the ship than there really were and they’d demand a higher price. After that, Rick would tell them that he couldn’t afford it, and then they’d throw him out on the street.

Or maybe even have their criminal friends rough him up for everything he was worth…which right now wasn’t very much.

He sighed and walked in through the door. The manager stood up to greet him.

“Hello sir,” the man smiled, stroking his mustache and eyeing Rick, measuring up just how much money he figured he could get from him. “What can I do for you today?”

“I need repairs for my ship,” Rick said somberly.

“Okay,” the man started searching his documents. “What’s the ship’s name and landing pad?”

“The Lone Eagle. Pad 13-B.”

The manager made annoying clicking sounds with his tongue as he searched the files. Eventually, he pulled one up.

“Ah, here we are. The Lone Eagle…Hmm…the repairs look like they need to be extensive. What did you do to your ship? Fly through an asteroid field?”

“Nope, just escaped an Imperial warship.”

“I see…well, the price will have to be determined after the repairs and adjustments have been made. There’s no way to charge you for what we don’t know yet.”

“Yeah,” Rick nodded. “But what will happen if you fix the ship and I can’t afford it?”

The manager gave him a look. “Sonny, this is Nar Shaddaa. What do you think happens to people who can’t pay their debts?”

Rick wasn’t bothered at all by the poorly veiled threat.

“You still want those repairs?” the man asked. “I don’t see how you’ll be going anywhere anytime soon without ‘em. Maybe you could by a new ship? I could buy your vessel for parts and…”

“No,” Rick said weakly. “I’m not selling my ship.”

“Very well…about the repairs…?”

“Well, I…”

A voice interrupted from behind. A voice Rick knew all too well…and had prayed he would never have heard again.

“Of course he wants those repairs, don’t you, Rick?”

Rick felt his blood grow cold, and he felt as though he would lose control of his bowels. He turned slowly, hoping all the while that this was just his imagination.

It wasn’t.

In the doorway stood a tall man, armored in dusty green and brown armor. Two pairs of pistols were holstered on his belt, and a rifle was slung across his back. His face was concealed by a sandy cloth turban.

Rick tried to open his mouth, but his voice failed him.

The man laughed. “Eight years and all you can do is stand there with your jaw open? How about a ‘How do you do?’”

“Shazzar,” Rick gasped weakly.

“I’m glad you still remember me,” the man took a few steps forward, his reptile-skin boots clomping on the hard floor.

“Wh-wh-what are you doing here?” Rick struggled to ask.

“Right now, visiting my old friend.”

The manager stood up and coughed. “Well, I, um…I’ve got some things to take care of…so if you’ll excuse me…”

Rick wanted to beg the man to stay, but it wouldn’t have done any good. Even if Rick could have had the strength to speak.

When he was gone, Shazzar asked, “What’s the matter Rick? You didn’t think you wouldn’t ever see me again, did you? The galaxy’s too small a place for either of us to truly disappear.”

It was getting difficult for Rick to breathe. He could feel sweat already dripping down his face…and he knew there would be a lot more soon enough.

“What? No catching up, is that it?” Shazzar asked. “Fine, fine, it’s not as though you don’t know what all I’ve been up to, or that I don’t know what you’ve been up to.”

“Huh?” was all Rick could utter.

“I know all about your little mess with Algayne, and Gardogga, and the incidents on Calpronica and Corellia. I actually saw you in those gladiator games…Very impressive. But then, it wasn’t anywhere near the kinds of things you were capable of before.”

“Yeah, well…” Rick was slowly mustering his courage to speak. “A lot has happened since we last saw each other.”

“I know. That’s why I’m here.”

“You…what?”

Shazzar chuckled. “I’ve been looking for you a while now. You haven’t stayed in one place for very long. I only caught glimpses of the Eagle every now and then…and I had to follow cold trails.”

“Well, you’ve found me… What do you want?”

“Don’t look so pale,” Shazzar shook his head. “It makes it look like you haven’t slept or eaten in days.”

“You’ll forgive me if I remain this milky shade while you’re here.”

“That hurts, Rick. That really hurts.”

“Not as much as your vibroblade.”

Shazzar sighed. “Rick, I would never lay a hand on you. Didn’t we know each other long enough for you to realize that? Or have you simply forgotten over all these years?”

“I’ve tried to forget, believe me…but I remember everything. What do you want?”

“I’m here to help you out, old friend.”

“Help me? From what?”

“Well, first, I’ve come to give you some important news. Gardogga’s dead. Lycos Quinn killed him on Corellia after your little…escapade. Algayne’s made an alliance with a moff of the Empire, and they’ve hired bounty hunters to take down you and your little crew. Algayne’s Mandalorians are searching for you too.”

“That all is…interesting. But what do you care? Are you…?”

“I’ve got a different client. One that is interested only in your Jedi friend.”

“What Jedi?”

“Rick, you may be a good liar most of the time, but you could never deceive me. I know about the Jedi you met on Calpronica. Your ‘first mate’. My client is very interested in him, and he’s paying a great price for him.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“I want him, Rick. I want you to hand him over to me. The rest of your crew, your ship, and even you aren’t what I’m after. Once I have the Jedi, all the other thugs will be called off.”

Rick frowned. “Even if that were true, Algayne would still be after me.”

“True, but you can handle him, can’t you?”

“Didn’t you see the match?”

Shazzar laughed. “Alright, you’ve got a point there.”

Rick wasn’t laughing.

“Here’s the deal, Rick. I’m going to pay for your ship’s repairs, for old time’s sake. I’m going to see to it that the Empire and their hounds won’t ever bother you again, and I’ll even take care of Algayne for you.”

“Huh?” Rick could only gape.

“We’re friends, Rick, or at least we were. All I ask in return is for you to give me the Jedi. I’ll even give you half the bounty – a solid two hundred thousand credits.”

“So…one hundred?”

“No, two. The bounty is worth four.”

“That doesn’t make sense…” Rick shook his head, disbelieving. “No young Jedi Knight is worth that much.”

“It is to my client,” Shazzar countered. “Certainly that’s a good price to you?”

“Well...”

“Does it really take any time to think? The Rick Orlan I know would jump at this great opportunity.”

“But Targon’s my friend…”

“Friend? Rick, listen to yourself. If you remember everything…then don’t you remember what a Jedi did to you?”

Rick grew even paler. “I…I remember.”

“One Jedi is just like another. They’re all the same, I know this. You know this. Do you think Targon would be your friend if he actually know who you are?”

“That’s not me anymore!” Rick stated. “I’ve gone straight.”

Shazzar laughed. “Straight? You can’t change what you are. We both know that.”

“But…”

“Rick, I’ve got a lot of things to do. Much as I’d love to stick around and reminisce all the old days, I’m a busy man. And I’ve got a job to deliver. Now, I’m going to run this by you again. I pay for your repairs, I clear the bounty hunters off, I take care of Algayne, and I give you half the bounty. You know I’m a man of my word. So, in return for this…?”

“I give you the Jedi,” Rick sighed.

“So do we have a deal?”

“I…”

There was a painfully long pause.

“Deal.”

Shazzar’s scaly gloved hand took hold of Rick’s and shook it. “Deal. I’ll call to fill you in on details later.” When he let go of his hand, there was a five thousand credit piece in Rick’s fingers.

“For the repairs,” Shazzar said. He then started for the door and threw back, “You always were one of the smartest men in the galaxy. You’ve done great things – and some not so great – but you always came out on top. You know why?”

“Why?” Rick asked weakly.

The bounty hunter turned around and winked at him. “Because you’re a survivor, Rick. You’re a survivor.”

In a flash, Shazzar disappeared.

The manager walked back in after a few minutes. “Oh, I see your friend is gone,” he said, playing with his mustache.

Rick turned to him somberly and placed the five thousand credits on the counter. “This will be enough to cover the repairs for my ship,” he stated.

“I’ll have the mechanics get to work right away.”

The manager left, and Rick was left standing alone, with Shazzar’s words echoing in his ears.

“You’re a survivor, Rick. You’re a survivor.”

Targon was running. The incident with the Mandalorians was a sure sign of more trouble. And if they were getting after him, they were most surely going to be after the others. After all, the Kiffar had mentioned bounty hunters…

It was never a good thing to have bounty hunters after you.

The streets were full of people, and it was difficult to make the way through and keep from becoming a hazard. But his Jedi skills came in handy, staying out of undue attention and avoiding bowling people over.

A noise made him stop short. Screaming. Blaster fire. The sounds of a shooting spree in a nearby building.

Targon followed the sound, and the guidance of the Force, and entered a large building. It was a bank.

Nearly fifteen people lay dead on the ground. Others were wounded or cowering in masses behind furniture and counters. Holding a pair of pistols was a small man with a very large, very old hat. His face was covered by a respirator mask. Standing next to him was a massive Wookie with ratty hair and brimming with gadgets.

The shooters turned to face him when he entered.

“Ah, and there you are, right on time,” the little man said in an accented drawl.

“Who are you?” Targon demanded. “You are under arrest under the laws of the Galactic Republic.”

“How presumptuous,” the man shook his head. “The Republic and the Jedi don’t have authority here, buddy.”

“What do you want?”

“What’s it look like? You, Jedi, are what we want. We knew you’d come running when we made a disturbance like this. Such predictability.”

“Who are you?” Targon asked again.

“The name’s Djehad, and this is Rook. We are the men who will be collecting the bounty on you and your friends.”

“You are welcome to try,” Targon activated his saber.

“Oh, we’ll do more than try.”

Both man and beast started firing at him. Targon leaped out of the way, but the stream of bolts followed him. His saber deflected a few shots until he was able to take cover behind a column.

“Hiding only annoys me!” he heard Djehad shout. “It’s not like I won’t use collateral damage to draw you out, Jedi!”

Targon shuddered as he heard another blaster shot, and a woman’s dying scream following. Without hesitation, he emerged from behind the pillar and hurled a desk at the criminals.

The Wookie caught the desk easily and dropped it off to the side. His partner started shooting at Targon again. The flurry of shots was almost too quick for even Targon’s Force-enhanced reflexes. He leapt over the stream of bolts and closed the gap between him and the bounty hunters.

Landing next to the short man, he made a slash at him. But his arm was caught by the massive paw of the Wookie. It picked him up and tossed him into a bank teller’s counter.

He recovered quickly, and jumped up just as the beast was about to land a blow on his chest with a furry elbow. The force of the attack cracked the stone counter where Targon had once been lying.

With a roar, the Wookie swatted at Targon. When he missed, he followed up with a series of shots from his bowcaster.

The fearful civilians fled the scene, and soon the whole bank was empty except for the combatants. Files, datacards, desks, and glass exploded all around as the bounty hunters pursued the zipping Jedi.

Realizing that the people were gone and out of harm’s way, Targon decided now was a good time to get out of this situation himself. He made for the door. Just as he got there, an explosion behind him thrust him forward and right through the glass.

His ears were ringing as he struggled to get up from the ground. All around him were shards of glass. Smoke filled the air, and muffled screams echoed in the chaos.

Finally able to stand, Targon focused on getting all his senses realigned. Black smoke clouded everything, but only a little ways off he could hear the short man’s voice.

“You idiot!” Djehad shouted. “I told you a stun dart, not a rocket! And you missed anyway! How? He was only three meters in front of you, hairball!”

This was his chance. With his attackers bickering for the moment, it was time for Targon to continue on his way. It was more than likely that his friends were encountering other bounty hunters just as bad as these two. And though they might be able to handle themselves well enough, they didn’t have the Force to protect them from explosions like that.

Running was easier now, since the crowds were dispersing to get away from the carnage. He kept going, as fast as his legs could take him. But it wasn’t far enough.

Behind him he could hear the whine of an engine. Glancing back, he caught sight of the bounty hunters on a large swoop bike. The Wookie was driving, and Djehad stood up behind him. In his arms was a rocket launcher.

“That’s a little much, isn’t it?” Targon muttered to himself.

He leaped and zipped and dashed through the various alleys and streets, trying to lose his pursuers, or at least keep them from getting a clear shot.

The thought continually came to him – were they after him dead or alive? Because if he was wanted alive, then they weren’t going to get paid if they blew him up with a rocket. Then again…maybe it was a scare tactic? To make Targon panic and make a mistake?

He found himself suddenly in an empty square. Across the way, in front of a cantina, was a scene he most definitely wasn’t expecting to find.

Three bounty hunters were facing off – and it looked like they had Greyhawk and Gabrielle with them. The peculiarity of the coincidence did not register – or if it did, Targon knew that it wasn’t simply chance.

One of the bounty hunters – a man in a dirty cloak – turned to see what the upcoming noise was. His face at first bore a huge grin at the sight of the Jedi, but then it turned into a nasty scowl when Targon’s new friends came into view.

Targon heard the rocket launch from behind him. He was ready to make a dive, but he saw the missile pass right by him and hit the speeder near the group. The explosion was huge, a great red fireball that blinded everyone.

Targon found himself knocked to the ground. Again. And just like before, he felt his ears pounding and the sounds were muffled. There was shouting, and then there was blaster fire.

He felt a hand touch him. Looking up, he saw Gabrielle, or at least he was pretty sure it was Gabrielle. Everything was hazy – and not just because of the smoke.

She was shouting something at him, and tugging on his arm to get up. He complied as well as he could, though he found his balance greatly diminished. She dragged him over to where Greyhawk lay unconscious. Targon knew what she wanted. They needed to carry him to get out of here.

Gathering his strength, Targon lifted one side of the old soldier, while Gabrielle took the opposite. Together, with their heads down, they slipped out of the square and made off down the road as fast as possible.

Their escape went unnoticed by the lot of bounty hunters. The sudden convergence of all the competition had been the last straw. Hostility broke out openly and brutally.

Griff Ponz found himself close to the Zabrak where the explosion had deposited him. He was up on his feet and kicking Katarn in the gut as hard as he could.

The Zabrak responded by grabbing his foot and yanking him down. Katarn then crawled up on top of him and started pounding on the filthy man’s already beaten face. Griff made a desperate kick to get him off, but both found themselves swatted by the giant walking carpet as it approached.

Djehad and Rook had stopped their bike and dismounted. In this mess, they decided now was the best time to dispose of their competitors. The Zabrak and the man in the dirty coat were easy enough to find – brawling right on top of each other as they were. But they didn’t see the other one…

Out of the gloom of the smoke, Jet came roaring up with his jetpack. He soared right up to the Wookie and slammed his fist in the beast’s jaw. He then landed and fired a wrist-cable to trip up the small man.

A pair of arms grabbed around Jet’s neck. It was Katarn.

The two tumbled to the ground. As the Zabrak tried to constrict Jet’s throat, the veteran bounty hunter gave him several hard blows to the stomach with his elbow, and then a blow to the head.

Griff was up again, rapidly firing a flurry of shots from his carbine. He hit Katarn in the side, but then he was gunned down by three shots to the chest from Djehad.

With Katarn wounded, Jet was able to break loose and stand up. He gave a kick to the Zabrak’s groin and walked off.

“This job isn’t worth the trouble,” he spat. He then fired up his jetpack and was gone. He had his fill of this nonsense. There were other jobs that paid just as well as this one, and that required half the effort. He didn’t get to be a respected veteran by ignoring that fact.

Djehad looked at the rest of this party with disgust. Griff was dead, and Katarn was writhing on the ground and didn’t look like he was going anywhere soon. He turned to Rook, who was struggling to get up after the blow from Jet.

Shaking his head, Djehad pointed his pistol. “Some help you were, Rook,” he muttered. The Wookie snarled at him and charged, growling in his tongue that he was sick of listening to the small man’s voice.

The short man tipped his hat and shot the beast square in the head. When the walking carpet clattered to the ground, he walked off. This was a fun little escapade, but it was a waste of his time. Somehow, the targets had made off while they were lost in their little rumble.

Djehad was reminded why he always opted to work alone. And why he worked for the Hutts instead of for the Empire.

From atop a building, a pair of Mandalorians stared down at the brawl. Both were armored in silver and blue, yet they both bore the mark of the black hand.

The taller one, a male, activated his comlink.

“Commander Algayne, this is Stryker. I’m here with Merani. I thought you might like to know that the bounty hunters are busy killing each other and abandoning the assignment.”

“Worthless brigands!” Algayne’s voice spat from the comm.. “Why did Taan waste his time with them?”

Merani spoke. She was smaller, but just as heavily armed as her male counterpart. “The targets are headed back for their ship. Should we intercept them?”

“No,” Algayne commanded. “Follow them to their ship, and there you can take them all at once. Those bounty hunters may have been useless pigs, but I’m sure you can handle the targets easily enough. Right, my warriors?”

“Of course, sir,” Stryker answered. “We’ll be sure to take Rick and his friends down. They may be able to handle bounty hunters and lesser warriors, but they haven’t faced your Shadow Blades, sir.”

“See that you do not disappoint me,” Algayne said as he cut transmission.

Stryker turned to Merani. “Ready for battle, warrior?”

“I was born for battle,” the female Mandalorian replied. “I’ll race you to their ship.”

Firing their jetpacks, they made off into the sky, leaving the worthless bounty hunters to their foolishness.

Rick leaned against a stack of heavy canisters. A lot of heavy things were weighing on his mind. He stared blankly at the loading ramp of his ship.

The Lone Eagle was repaired now. Everything was just as good as new, or so the manager claimed. Rick of course was probably going to have to go in and rearrange the wiring of the ship so that it fit him more.

Yet at this moment he had no desire to do anything of the sort. He had no desire to do anything but sit and brood.

He had made a lot of tough decisions in his life…and this one was not the worst of them. So why did he feel this way?

Shazzar had called half an hour ago with instructions and details. When Targon returned, Rick was to lead him to an empty docking bay. How he got him there was his problem. Then, Shazzar would come and take the Jedi quickly and quietly. All Rick had to do was bring him.

Then all his problems would be solved.

So it seemed.

There were voices and footsteps approaching. They sounded familiar.

Reluctantly, Rick stood up straight and made like he was doing something important. Anything.

The door opened and in came Targon and Gabrielle, carrying an unconscious Greyhawk. Rick turned to them and shook his head.

“What did you get yourselves into this time?” he asked.

“Bounty hunters,” Targon replied.

“Of course, it’s always something,” Rick rolled his eyes. He had always been good at acting and hiding what he was feeling. But something about right know seemed off. As if he weren’t being as convincing as he should be.

“Could you give us a hand?” Gabrielle asked.

Rick understood. “Oh, right, I’ll be right over…”

He was cut off by a crashing through one of the skylights up above. Two armored persons dropped down from the sky and landed between them. They all recognized Mandalorian armor when they saw it…but these were different than Algayne’s men. Their armor was blue and silver, not green and red, and yet they still bore the symbol of the black hand.

“I think you crashed the wrong party,” Rick sighed at them.

“No, I think we got here at the right time,” the female of the pair countered.

“Just who are you supposed to be?” Gabrielle asked harshly.

“Your worst nightmare,” the male replied.

A waking Greyhawk moaned. “I always did find Mandalorians very cliché,” he groaned weakly.

The Mandalorians had their pistols out. “Can the talking,” the female barked. “Surrender now and you’ll keep all your bones intact.”

“Bold words,” Gabrielle said as she set Greyhawk down. “I wonder if you can back them up.”

“We’ll try not to scar your pretty face too badly,” the male snarled.

Gabrielle was quick. In less than a second she had her pistols out and started firing. The male Mando dove and rolled to the left, and the female went the opposite direction.

Rick pulled out his pistols as well, and Targon’s saber hummed to life.

The Mandalorians were all over the place. They were incredibly agile, and they sporadically fired their jetpacks on and off to give them boosts of speed and height. The pair rained fire down on the crew – who scattered to keep out of the way. Targon kept the old soldier with him, deflecting all shots that came towards them.

Gabrielle was focusing on the male warrior, while the female pinned Rick down behind the canisters. There was a loud bang, and then Rick was tossed through the air, the boxes tumbling all around him.

There was a smoking crater where he had been hiding, and the woman was preparing another rocket to fire.

“Aren’t we wanted alive?” Rick shouted at her.

“No one specified how alive,” she answered. Then she fired again.

Rick leapt as hard as he could, but it wasn’t enough. His faulty jump only moved him a few feet – not far enough from where the explosive was bound. He felt something grab him then and yank him fast and hard away as the rocket struck the ground.

Looking around, he saw no one nearby. But he did see Targon’s hand outstretched towards him.

There was a major pang in Rick’s stomach for a sickening moment, but he shook it off and started shooting again.

The Mandalorian woman shot up into the air again to avoid his fire, and then she drove towards him, a blade appearing from her wrist gauntlet.

A shape intercepted her, knocking her to the side. Young Targon stood over her, holding his saber to her face.

“You are beaten,” he stated.

“Hardly,” the woman snarled. She then yanked out Targon’s legs from under him and was now atop him, ready to plant a hard fist in his face.

Rick was on her now, grabbing hold of both her arms and pinning them behind her back. She squirmed and bucked like an angry reek, but Rick held tight. She was so strong and intense, though, that Rick was sure he was going to lose some teeth or at least be sick for a long time from such rattling.

The back of her helmet struck Rick’s chin and finally knocked him off her. As she was free, she turned to give him a hard kick in the ribs with her metal boot. But now Targon had at her again, trying to wrestle her to the ground.

In a swift strike, the woman planted her elbow into Targon’s chest. He was sent reeling, and she took the offensive once more.

The male Mando came from behind, clamping both of the Jedi’s arms behind his back and holding him for his companion to make the hit.

A blaster bolt from Gabrielle’s gun hit the man’s leg, and he cringed. It was just enough to allow Targon to slip out of his grip and leap into the air.

The woman’s fist was moving so fast she couldn’t stop it in time. It planted square on her partner’s helmet, cracking the visor.

As he fell to the ground, the woman shouted an indiscernible war cry as flames burst from her gantlet to encircle Targon. The young Jedi hardly had enough time to react.

Suddenly, her flamethrower shorted out. The entire gauntlet had been crushed on her arm. She cried out in annoyance and tried to make another attack with the blade on her other arm. That one crumpled too.

“You could hurt someone with those,” a voice growled from behind.

Targon gaped and so did the others. It was Master Navor, up on his feet and looking as strong as he had been before. His skin and fur was still discolored – the stripes were still blue instead of black.

Standing next to him were two people that no one recognized. The first was a soldier, suited up in thick, red armor that bore the Republic’s insignia. The other was a large Whiphid dressed in Jedi robes. Both of them looked ready for battle.

“You’re outmatched, Mandalorian,” the soldier stated. “Surrender now.”

“Warriors fight to the end!” the woman shrieked.

“Then this is the end,” the Whiphid rumbled, lifting his hand and picking up the pair of Mandalorians. Up they went, and then he tossed them out the breach from where they had come.

It was quiet now, and the whole hangar sighed with relief. Targon still maintained a look of shock.

“Master Navor? How…?”

“More importantly,” Rick cut in, “who are they?”

“My name is Master J’Quille,” the Whiphid answered. “I have come from the Jedi Council to seek you out, Jedi Knight Targon Karashi.”

“The Council?” Targon was confused.

“And you?” Rick pointed a finger at the soldier.

“I am Lt. Colonel Aric Trinn,” the man replied. He was tall and strong, but he was incredibly young. Far too young to be a colonel, it would appear.

“Okay, and where did you two come from?” Rick asked.

“We were on your ship,” J’Quille replied. “I found Navor in the medical bay and I strove to heal him. Trinn is my escort from the Republic military.”

“On my ship?” Rick was horrified. “How?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Navor stated gruffly. “It’s past time we were going…before more bounty hunters show up.”

“I couldn’t agree more,” Gabrielle stated.

“Could someone help me up?” Greyhawk asked from the floor where he lay.

“At once,” Trinn said primly. He and Gabrielle lifted him up and carried him up the ramp.

“What’s this all about?” Targon asked. “What does the Council wish of me?”

“That is something we should discuss later,” J’Quille replied. “Now we really should be going.”

“Well, take the old cat up with you,” Rick waved them away. “Just make sure neither of you shed on the upholstery, you furry beasts.”

The Jedi Masters nodded, pretending not to hear the last comment. They then made their way up the ramp as well.

“Aren’t we going?” Targon asked.

“Yes…I just need to talk to you for a second,” Rick said slowly.

“Now?”

“Now would be the best time.”

“Alright, what is it, Rick?”

Rick hesitated. “Would you walk with me?”

“We kind of need to be going…”

“It will only take a second,” Rick said, a little too hastily.

“Okay…” Targon nodded, confused.

Rick led him out the door and down the hall.

“What is it?” Targon asked. “Is something wrong?”

“I…” Rick struggled for words. He really didn’t want to say anything. He had no idea what he could say. What could he say that Targon would understand?

Nothing.

“Rick?”

Rick sighed heavily. His heart was pounding through his chest. He only realized now that he was scared. Scared of what he had to do…scared of seeing Targon’s face as he betrayed him.

“What’s wrong with you?” a voice in his head asked harshly. “You’ve done this before…you can do it again. You didn’t have any problems before.”

“But that was before…before I went straight,” he told himself.

“You can’t change what you are,” Shazzar’s words echoed. After that came, “You’re a survivor.”

“I am a survivor,” Rick agreed. “But I…I’m not…”

They stopped in front of the door. The door from which behind the cobra poised to strike. And Rick was bringing the bait.

He stopped for a long while…his face was growing pale.

“Rick, what’s going on?” Targon’s voice was concerned. Was it scared? Not nearly as much as Rick was, surely.

“I…I need to talk to you about Gabrielle.”

Targon raised an eyebrow. “Been having more of those dreams?”

Words came easily. Lies always did. “Yes…but…how can I tell her? Do I dare?”

“Tell her what you dream about? Absolutely not!” Targon shook his head. His smile seemed so innocent…so unaware. “I’m a Jedi, but I know what does and what doesn’t make proper conversation.”

“You’re probably right,” Rick nodded. “But what do I do? I can’t get her out of my head.”

“Rick, you brought me out here to ask about her?” the skepticism in his voice frightened Rick. Had he read his mind? Did he know what Rick had been intending?

“I…” Rick stuttered. “No. I brought you here to…apologize.”

“For what?”

Rick sighed. He inflated himself with confidence and conviction. “I’ve been a poor captain, and I’ve had a bad past. Yet all the while, you’ve been a good friend. You haven’t judged me for my mistakes, and you’ve endured all my poor jokes.”

“No more than you have done for me,” Targon said sincerely.

“I know…but I should have been better. I thought that you wouldn’t stay with me or be so supportive after all that’s happened. I…want to make it up to you?”

“How?” Targon inquired.

“I’m going with you to Tython.”

“Yes…I figured since J’Quille and Trinn are on your ship…”

“No, no, that’s not what I mean. You stuck with me as first mate. Well, the captain needs to stick with his crew. I’m going with you to Tython, and I’ll stay with you wherever they send you.”

“Rick…” Targon was speechless. “I…”

“Bah!” Rick shook his head and clapped Targon on the back. “Let’s just go before I start getting all mushy. Besides, I shouldn’t leave my ship with those people.”

Targon smiled as the two of them returned to their ship.

The door remained unopened.

Traveling through the long dark tunnel of hyperspace, the crew of the Lone Eagle finally took a moment to rest. They were out of danger now, and they were headed to one of the safest planets in the galaxy.

Greyhawk was recovering quickly, but he was on his bunk fast asleep. Gabrielle wandered aimlessly through the halls of the ship, a relaxation technique she personally found quite effective.

Navor was back in the medical bay, with the new Jedi trying to see about healing him some more. So far it hadn’t proven too effective. J’Quille’s companion, the young officer, was in one of the cargo holds repeatedly taking his rifle apart and putting it back together. Blindfolded, no less.

Rick sat in the pilot’s chair, staring out into the mottled blue mosaic out the window. His fingers thrummed lightly on the console.

Next to him, in the co-pilot’s chair, Targon was asleep. When he had drifted off, Rick couldn’t say. They had been talking a bit, about the bounty hunters encountered and how this trip had actually been better than their last few stops.

Silently, though, Rick disagreed with that statement. This visit to Nar Shaddaa had been the worst stop so far. And chances were, with this Jedi as his partner, there were going to be a lot worse things down the road.

Especially when he considered what he had done.

There was no denying it now. The Empire was after them. The whole ship. Yet for some reason it seemed it was more focused at Targon. It didn’t make sense, being as he was hardly more than a child, and a new Jedi. What interest did people in the Empire have for someone like him?

Rick couldn’t begin to suppose to understand. The Jedi and the Sith always seemed to have motives and plans that far surpassed the common man’s comprehension or logic. They were mixed up in this big war between dark and light, one religion of the Force combating another. And the small folks were all caught in between.

Small folks like him.

There was a soft beeping on the console, and a light flashed brightly. Rick knew it was a communication from someone. And he figured he knew who sent it.

He pulled some headphones over his ears and listened to the message without disturbing his sleeping companion.

“Rick, Rick, Rick…” the voice said in a sigh. “You always were full of surprises, and even now you don’t cease to amaze me.”

There was a pause, as if Rick was supposed to reply. But it was a recorded message…there was no point in talking back to him.

“I have to admit, I’m a bit at a loss as to what you just did,” Shazzar continued. “At first, I thought you were going to take the bounty all for yourself. But that’s not like you, is it?”

“Nope,” Rick muttered to himself. “Never was.”

“So I had to get to thinking harder about this. I had to remember what happened eight years ago that made you decide to try to drop off the radar. Had it been anyone else – a woman, another smuggler, a client, what have you – I probably would have understood. But a Jedi? That’s not like you either.”

“I know,” Rick sighed.

“Enough of my rambling,” the recording continued. “It all comes down to this – you chose your friend Targon over me. That’s fine. But now you’re going to have to live with that decision. And the consequences that follow. I was contracted for a job, and unlike you, I mean to uphold that contract. I’ll have the Jedi, Rick, even without your help. All I thought was you might like to get something in return. Yet if you keep this up, you’ll get something else… Something like a hole between the eyes. Nothing personal, Rick, but I’ve got a job to do, and you’re standing in the way.”

The recording finished. Rick took off his headset slowly, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe.

“Listening to your music?” Targon asked.

Rick turned and saw that he was awake now. He shook his head.

“What was it?”

“A call from an old friend,” Rick replied.

“From what I can tell, it doesn’t sound like good news. Something wrong?”

“Wrong? No, not exactly. He was just giving me some news…something I guess I already knew was going to happen.”

“What’s your friend’s name?” Targon inquired.

“It’s not important,” Rick shook his head. He changed the subject. “What do you say we actually listen to some music, eh?”

“Not as loud, I hope.”

“Nope,” Rick smiled. “Remember what I told you about Gabrielle?”

“How could I forget?”

They laughed.

Footsteps came into the cockpit from behind them. They turned to see Master J’Quille.

“How’s Navor?” Targon asked.

“He’s doing better,” the Whiphid answered. “I’m afraid some of the infection in his body is far beyond my skill to heal – and may truly never be healed. But I don’t believe he will die or worsen.”

“Well, that’s good,” Rick nodded. “Is there something we can help you with?”

“I need to talk to Targon about why the Council has summoned him.”

“Okay,” Rick said. “I guess I’ll leave you two alone then…”

“Stay,” commanded the Jedi Master. “It concerns you too, captain.”

“Oh…” Rick sat back down.

“What is it?” Targon asked.

The look on J’Quille’s face was suddenly stern. “The Council is concerned about your involvement with a smuggling captain and the messes you have created during your travels away from the Temple. This compounds the issue of your having left without assignment.”

“What?” Targon gasped. “But Master Cyrus…”

“Master Cyrus is not your master,” J’Quille said bluntly. “And he most certainly did not authorize you to cause troubles with Imperials and criminals.”

“He told me to…”

“Hold up,” Rick cut in. “Are you saying the Jedi Council has an issue of him becoming my first mate?”

“First mate?” J’Quille’s big eyebrows rose. “Is this so, Targon?”

“Yes…” Targon admitted.

“You realize that is not the way of the Jedi to become involved in the activities of…”

“Okay, stop right there,” Rick interrupted. “First off, I’ve gone straight. I don’t smuggle and I don’t break the law anymore. Well, much anyway. Secondly, what does it matter that I’m a friend of Targon? I bet a lot of Jedi make friends like me. Besides, he saved my butt as much as I saved his…and we’ve done a lot of good things to help people, and…”

“It’s not up to me,” J’Quille sighed. “My instructions were simply to bring Targon to Tython to go before the Jedi Council. He will have the opportunity to relate and defend his actions there. For now, we simply need to get there.”

“I don’t understand,” Targon said softly, the hint of despair in his voice. “I didn’t do anything wrong…did I?”

“No, you most certainly did not!” Rick answered boldly. “Don’t worry, first mate. If I have to, I’ll stand right beside you in front of those Council members and tell them straight out.”

“The Council will likely wish to speak with you as well,” J’Quille said.

“They can talk to the whole crew at once! They’ll all agree…”

“Enough,” J’Quille said sharply. “We will speak no more of this. You know what is expected and what will occur. What happens afterward is up to the Council.”

The Jedi Master turned and left the room.

“Seems like an old windbag to me,” Rick sighed.

“He is a Jedi Master,” Targon countered.

“Yeah, well, if you ask me, this whole thing is messed up. I mean…really? Just for having a drink with me they’re getting all…”

“I guess we’ll just have to see,” Targon shrugged.

Algayne entered the room, his fists clenched and his breath husky. It was plain to tell he was upset.

He wasn’t the only one, though. Taan stared at him coldly with his bright red eyes. On either side of him was one of his black guards. He hadn’t thought he needed them before. But at this moment…it was best to show the Mandalorian who had the power and authority here.

“What sort of rotten trash did you pull from the gutter and hire to hunt them down?” Algayne roared. “They were even worse than I thought…two of them are dead!”

“You said they were pathetic, and I suppose you have been justified,” Taan said softly. “Yet your own warriors fared no better. Even your legendary assassins – what do you call them? Shadow Blades? They seemed more like Court Jesters to me.”

“Do not mock my warriors! Do not!” the Mandalorian pointed a thick finger at the Moff. “To do so not only dishonors them, but it also dishonors me! I will not have it!”

“Then why don’t you prove me otherwise? Why didn’t your men perform according to your claims? They were as soundly defeated as the bounty hunters.”

“You had five hunters! My men were but two! Tell me who fared better?” Algayne felt confident that he had him there.

He was wrong. “They might have been two, but you also had three men face the Jedi alone. I thought a single Mandalorian, even the lowliest of rank, was worth four pathetic Jedi?”

Beneath his helmet, Algayne’s eye twitched with rage. Yet his tongue was still – for he could not find the words to counter. Instead, he started inching a hand towards his blaster.

“That really wouldn’t be smart,” Taan stated coolly. “You so much as move an inch more and my guards will have to gun you down.”

“You underestimate me, just as most Imperials do,” Algayne snarled. “Those who underestimate me end up dead.”

“Silence, both of you,” a sharp and furious voice snapped out of the darkness. The air suddenly got cold as a black shape came forward.

Taan bowed to the figure. “My lord…I had no idea you were there.”

“And well that you didn’t,” the shade replied. “Otherwise I might not have seen the two of you for what you really are.”

“My lord?”

“I am not amused,” the specter folded his arms. “A simple task, and neither of your thugs could complete it. That matters little, though, for I tasked my own agent to track them down.”

“Then why has he not returned successful?” Algayne asked haughtily. “It would seem to me that he failed as well.”

The wraith’s eyes glowed bright. “That is where you are wrong, Mandalorian. My hunter still gives chase, pursuing his target even now. Where are your men, Algayne? Where are the bounty hunters you hired, Taan?”

They did not have time to reply.

“I’ll tell you. They have given up the hunt! They have resigned from their task simply because of a single defeat. You do not see my agent whimpering back to me because he missed this time, do you?”

“My lord,” Taan began, “I shall hire more mercenaries…better ones that will not fail…”

Algayne cut him off. “My warriors will double their efforts. They will hunt and prepare both day and night! They shall not fail again.”

There was no sign of satisfaction in the black void under the figure’s hood. All he said was, “See that you do not. Both of you. It may take time to find another opportunity to strike, but when it comes, I expect you to be ready.”

With that, the shade walked off, taking his dark and terrible presence with him.

Targon sat alone in a room overlooking the forests of Tython. The beauty of the world made him recall the walks he had with his master, and the lessons he was taught each day. The memories flooded into him, and they helped pass the time.

Three days they had been at the Jedi Temple. Three days of peaceful rest and relaxation. Well, at least for the others. Targon had stood nervously before the Council to account for his actions and make his say. Then the Council dismissed him and deliberated.

And deliberated and deliberated and deliberated.

Then his companions had been asked one at a time to come before the Council and give their perspective. All the while Targon had been essentially under house arrest. He hadn’t been able to see anyone. Not even Master Cyrus.

Finally, the summon came for him.

He breathed deep and calmed himself. Dressing in fresh robes, he made his way towards the Council chambers. Outside the large doors sat his friends. They looked up at him and smiled.

Rick gave him thumbs up, Greyhawk saluted, Gabrielle winked, and Navor nodded reassuringly. They all looked well. The three days had done them a world of good. Targon was glad for that.

The doors opened and he walked in. He tried to look as calm as possible, yet he remained humble and nervous all the same. No doubt the masters could tell.

There were fewer there than Targon had expected. Masters Shan, Salar, and three others were missing. Guiltily, Targon felt a little relieved that Master Salar was not present. He got the feeling the platinum blonde didn’t care for him much.

“Greetings again, Targon Karashi,” small, furry Master Wixas said. “We are sorry to have kept you waiting for so long, but this case needed careful deliberation.”

“I understand, Master,” Targon knelt before the ring of chairs. He felt the eyes of the masters on him.

“Let us just get right down to the matter, shall we?” Master Nalos suggested. “We have heard from your companions, and we have weighed the matters. Is there anything else you would like to say?”

“Might I inquire as to what sort of situation I find myself?” Targon asked.

“A wise and pointed question,” one of the Council nodded. She was a tall and beautiful Togruta, but not someone Targon recognized.

“I agree with Master Asha,” Cyrus gave a little smile towards Targon. “He deserves to know his case.”

“Very well,” Master Wixas put his small hands together. “Targon Karashi, the Council fears you may have caused great political trouble with the Sith Empire, especially in regards to the Treaty of Coruscant. Also, your antics with a smuggler have raised some particular concerns.”

“Is that really the right word?” Cyrus asked. “Antics?”

“What else should it be called?” another of the masters asked. He was a thickly built Zabrak, with long braids of hair down to his chest. “I think ‘antics’ is the perfect term.”

“Indeed?” Master Nalos turned to Targon. “Is Master Rahn accurate in calling your actions ‘antics’?”

Targon looked at each of the masters. “No, that’s not what I would call them.”

“What then?” Rahn’s face was stern.

“They were…voyages. Just stops to planets on our trips…and finding ourselves in trouble with each location.”

“That goes without saying,” Wixas said. “You seemed to be attracting a lot of trouble.”

“Jedi normally attract attention, especially with the Sith,” Cyrus stated. “It wasn’t Targon’s fault.”

“His immature actions caused many deaths and great upheaval,” Rahn countered. “Master Salar would concur with me if he were here.”

“But he’s not,” Cyrus smiled. “He got after me for supposing what Satele would say, should he not be upset for you supposing what he would say in his absence?”

“It’s not the same.”

“Oh, but it is.”

“This is not the point we are here to discuss,” Wixas held up a finger. “We are discussing Targon, not Master Salar.”

“Indeed,” Master Nalos nodded. “And I think the matter is settled.”

“Eh?” Rahn looked at him as if he had something particularly foolish. “Settled? We have only begun.”

“I see no reason to take this any further than where we have,” the indigo-skinned Twi’lek stated. “Master Cyrus’ argument is clear – the boy is not at fault.”

“Master Cyrus does not lead this Council,” Rahn frowned.

“No, but after reviewing the details of Targon’s reports, and meditating for long hours on this matter, I agree with him.”

“Two voices do not a ruling make.”

“Then what is the rest of the Council’s opinion?” Cyrus asked. “We’ve kept Targon and his friends waiting for three days over this simple matter. We should come up with a decision now.”

“Simple?” Rahn was incredulous. “The boy has attracted the attention of bounty hunters, Mandalorians, Sith Lords, and alien beings we do not even understand. Master Salar would not see this as simple, Master Cyrus, and neither do I.”

Wixas sighed. “If it is the Empire we are worried about with young Targon, then I feel we should send him on an assignment that takes him as far from the Empire as possible.”

“What?” Rahn asked.

“Your ears don’t seem as good as they used to be,” Master Nalos jested. “Master Wixas’ plan is wise and sound. Targon set out without a clear assignment in mind, and thereby was bound to get into some unexpected trouble. We can change that now.”

“Where would you send the boy?” Rahn asked.

“Should he go anywhere right now?” Master Asha proposed. “He should stay here and further his training. A knight he may be, but he is young. He needs more focus and understanding.”

“Normally that would be a good decision,” Cyrus nodded. “I would be willing to help him grow in his potential. But I don’t think there’s time for that.”

“Indeed,” Wixas nodded. “Trouble is brewing in the galaxy, and more knights have been requested in one area in particular.”

“Where?” Rahn asked.

“The frontier of Wild Space.”

“Master Wixas,” Cyrus frowned suddenly. “You don’t think to send Targon to Master Salar, do you?”

“He would not like that,” Nalos smirked.

“It’s not a matter of liking or not,” Wixas stated. “Tensions are rising on the borders of Kordak space, and the Republic’s military presence isn’t enough. Targon will accompany the Republic cruiser Autumn Moon to the Yunkai system.”

“A… good decision,” Rahn accepted. “I concur.”

Many of the other masters agreed as well.

“I don’t like this,” Cyrus shook his head. “There’s too much trouble in that area, and things are growing worse.”

“Which is why more knights would be a welcome maneuver,” Wixas replied.

“We just spoke of keeping Targon out of trouble…”

Asha sighed. “Sometimes trouble cannot be avoided, Master Cyrus. While I personally agree with you, I think the Council’s decision is for the best.”

Cyrus nodded. “Very well. Targon, you will take passage on the Autumn Moon and report to Master Salar on Yunkai.”

“What of my companions?” Targon inquired.

The entire Council gave a sigh of realization. “Ah yes…” Wixas shook his head.

“They are a bad influence,” Rahn stated. “Salar would…”

“Enough speaking in the place of Master Salar,” Nalos cut him off. “Let the man make his own decisions and do his own thinking.”

“If the troubles with the League grow worse,” Cyrus raised a finger, “Targon will need as much help as he can get. I say we let his friends go with him.”

“Very well,” Wixas nodded. As eldest on the Council and the majority speaker in the absence of Master Shan, his voice was the final decider.

Targon rose and bowed to the Council. “I will do my best, Masters,” he said. He then turned and left the Council chambers.

His friends rose as he came out.

“So?” Rick asked. “How did it go? You weren’t banished, were you?”

“No,” Targon shook his head, though wondering if that might actually be the case. “I’ve been given an assignment to the Yunkai system.”

“Yunkai?” Greyhawk frowned. “That’s on the fringe of Wild Space. What would they have for you there?”

“I guess we’ll find out,” Targon shrugged.

“We?” Gabrielle repeated.

“The Council wishes us all to report to the cruiser Autumn Moon today. I guess we’ll be filled in on details later.”

“Typical,” Navor sighed. “The Council didn’t exactly give me all the information when they sent me to protect the planet Dakara either.”

“We can only hope that it won’t turn out as bad,” Targon smiled.

The Autumn Moon was a heavily armed Thranta-class battlecruiser. As such, it was built for warfare, not for luxury. So when the crew arrived to check in with the captain, the old Duro told them to land the Lone Eagle in one of the empty docking bays and reside in their during the trip. Nobody complained.

Of course, being passengers without shifts or traditional bunks did not win them many friends among the crew. For the five days of voyage, Targon and his companions ate by themselves in the mess hall, enduring the harsh stares of the crew.

It was only on the last day that someone joined them at the table.

“How are we holding up?” Aric Trinn asked. He was dressed in his suit of armor, and always seemed to be carrying his weapons with him. In this case, he seemed to carry his company with him as well.

“Well enough,” Rick replied, noticing the strongly built woman and the thick Zabrak with a prosthetic arm. Both were wearing the same kind of armor as the Lt. Colonel.

“Who are your friends?” Gabrielle asked.

“This is Scarlet,” Trinn pointed to the woman. “And this is Swann.”

“Whazzup?” the alien smiled.

“I take it you three are a…team?” Targon supposed.

“You would be right. Though we’re still working on a name for the squad.”

“That’s odd,” Rick stated.

“Not really,” Greyhawk shrugged. “My outfit just had a number, not a name.”

“So…I understand you all are unfamiliar with the mission,” Aric said.

“How do you know that?” Targon asked.

“Because I was tasked to fill you in, that’s how.”

“Oh.”

“You know, I’ve never heard of Yunkai,” Rick said. “What’s so important about it?”

“Nothing, really,” Scarlet answered, shrugging.

“The planet itself, anyway,” Aric added. “But it happens to be one of the disputed border worlds on Wild Space.”

“Disputed?” Rick gave him a look. “There’s nothing out in Wild Space…who is there to dispute with?”

“Ever heard of the Kordak League?”

“No,” Rick replied. The others all shook their heads too.

“You probably wouldn’t have,” Swann smiled. “Not many have…unless you’ve seen them for yourself.”

“What is it?”

Aric leaned close to them. “The Kordak League is a nation of systems ruled over by a race called the Necillains. They have about twelve sovereign worlds and a huge fleet of ships. It just so happens that one of their borders runs along a frontier of the Republic.”

“Are they hostile?” Targon asked.

“Not really,” Aric replied. “But then, if they weren’t a problem, we wouldn’t be headed out there, would we? No, so far it hasn’t been too serious…but there have been some incidents on both sides. Trade with the League has ceased, and the borders are being closely watched.”

“What’s going on?” Gabrielle inquired.

“What sort of incidents are we talking about?” Greyhawk added.

“There have been skirmishes and raids of peculiar circumstances. Kordak soldiers and citizens have been disappearing, their bodies found amid the corpses of Republic squadrons that also happened to go missing. The Necillians are proud and aggressive, a lot like Mandalorians, and so they’ve been demanding explanations. Apart from our own ongoing investigations, we have nothing to tell them, though.”

“And they’re not happy with that?” Targon supposed.

“Not at all. Their leader is the worst – Supreme Commander Arcon Talhawk. He’s one of the greatest military commanders that have ever lived, or so the stories would have us believe. Beyond his tactical genius, however, he also apparently wields great power of the supernatural.”

“Is he a Force Adept?” Navor asked.

“I don’t know…probably. It would make sense…”

An alarm rang throughout the ship, and a voice over the intercom shouted, “All hands, to your stations!”

“What now?” Rick asked.

“We’ve arrived,” Swann answered with a grin.

“It sounds worse…”

“It is.”

Targon and his companions rushed to a viewport. They were back in realspace, a planet far below them. Yunkai – a mosaic of mottled browns, grays, greens, and yellows. Up in orbit were dozens of ships. Many were Republic, but others were of a design nobody recognized.

One of the vessels was nearby. It was long, sleek, and silver, and it was just as large as the Autumn Moon. It loomed ominously, and its shape resembled a shark. It looked just as dangerous as a shark too – bristling with weapons and armed to the teeth.

“What is that?” Targon asked.

“The standard Kordak warship,” Aric replied. “A Blue Talon-class battlecruiser.”

“We call ‘em ‘Doom Ships’,” Swann interposed.

“Are they going to attack?” Rick asked.

“Not likely,” Aric shook his head. “The Republic and the Kordak share this world. But with tensions rising from escalating incidents…both sides are being cautious.”

“Will we be able to go down to the surface?” Targon then asked.

“Sure,” Aric replied. “You should probably see the captain on the bridge. He’ll give you the coordinates to take your ship down.”

“Will you be joining us?” Rick inquired.

“Later, most likely,” the Lt. Colonel smiled. “We’ve got jobs to do up here still.”

The ramp lowered and they stepped out into the hot and humid air of Yunkai. The Republic military base was large and spacious, yet it seemed so small and insignificant nestled in the huge trees of the jungle.

“Gah!” Rick exclaimed, his shirt already drenched in sweat. “Where did all the air go?!”

“I’m sure you’ll get used to it,” Navor said simply.

“Easy for you to say.”

“Quiet,” Gabrielle said. “The welcoming party is coming.”

Targon recognized the stern face of Master Karus Salar as easily as he recognized his platinum blonde hair. Flanking behind his soiled robes was a troupe of soldiers, engineers, some other Jedi, and officers.

There were two individuals who stood out as distinct as Master Salar. One was a Bothan, dressed in a bright red uniform and decorated with medals, above all the insignia of the Republic. Next to him was a tall human with short cut, brown hair and a red uniform not quite so ornamented.

Salar’s face was barely less than a scowl. “I was told the Council was sending you, Targon Karashi, and bringing a party of friends with you. At first I had hoped and believed it was the other masters pulling a prank on me. I guess I was wrong.”

“Nice to meet you too, sir,” Rick frowned.

“I don’t need to be introduced to your band, Targon,” Salar ignored the smuggler. “But these are some people you do need to know…”

He pointed to the Bothan. “This is Admiral Tek’yla, the commander overseeing the fleet in this system. With him is Vice Admiral Raynor Cordillian. Everyone on this base answers to their orders, including you.”

The admiral looked indifferent, but the man named Cordillain stepped forward with an outstretched hand. “Welcome to Yunkai, young Jedi and friends. We’re happy to see you here, with what’s been going on.”

“What is the situation here, sir?” Targon asked, shaking his hand.

“We should go indoors to discuss such matters,” Tek’yla stated primly.

“You got air-conditioning inside?” Rick rasped.

“No.”

“Great…”

“Follow us,” Salar said in a tone that fit his personality.

As they walked, Rick leaned over to Targon. “That guy’s a Jedi Master?”

“Yes, though I must admit he’s not the best kind to give the first impression.”

“I noticed…what’s his problem?”

Targon frowned. “It could be a lot of things…but I’m sure one of them is me.”

“You?”

“He was opposed to my knighting…he feels I am not yet ready for the task.”

“Well if he gets any gruffer,” Rick whispered, “people will start mistaking him for the enemy.”

“That’s just it…”

“What?”

“I have a strange feeling…just who is the enemy?”

There were more than a score of bodies littered throughout the dark hallway. They were all heavily armed and wore thick suits of armor…for all the good it did them.

A pair of individuals stalked silently among the corpses, and the vast array of artifacts and exhibits of the museum.

One was hooded and cloaked, the other was armored, masked, and stood nearly a head taller.

The taller man spoke. “Master, should we not make sure all the survivors have been accounted for?”

“Not at all, Tauros,” the hooded man replied. “Without survivors there won’t be anyone to tell the tale of what happened here.”

“But why? There should be no witnesses. We’ve never left witnesses before.”

“True, but this is a different situation. Now we want survivors…we want outrage and rumors to spread like wildfire. And spread they will.”

The shorter man stopped and looked around the hall. “Tauros,” he said softly. “Are our men dressed properly?”

“Yes,” the taller figure nodded. “They are fully outfitted with Republic insignias and equipment.”

“Good. Give them the command to begin ransacking the exhibits. I want everything of any sort of value – monetary or historical – destroyed.”

“It shall be done,” Tauros turned to fulfill the command.

“Wait,” the hooded man held up a finger. “Are the others also ready?”

“Yes.”

“And they are armed with weapons of the League?”

“Yes.”

“Then when everything is carried out, see that they do their duty as well.”

“Yes, my master.”

Tauros then stalked away, and now it was only the cloaked man and the corpses.

He stared at them contemptuously. “Necillians,” he whispered. “They say you are stronger than Wookies and fiercer than Mandalorians. I have seen battles that prove it so. And yet…here…on your own capital, you cannot muster the strength to fight two men?”

Chuckling, he kept walking. “Not to worry, though, you brave and loyal pawns. Your shame shall not be known. You fought boldly against the Republic strike team that came to vandalize and rob your sacred shrines. And you killed a great many of them. The survivors will sing praises to your devotion, and of the abominable acts of the Republic.”

He stopped in front of a great vault. “And that will be enough for Talhawk, won’t it? One look at this assault and he will march to war against the Republic. Fires shall engulf dozens of worlds…”

Waving his hand, he opened the vault effortlessly. “…Yet all the while it will be the Covenant and the Empire that benefit from your bloodbath. Such witless fools…”

He smiled as he saw the contents. Five indigo crystals glowed intensely as they hovered in a case.

“Toxeti,” the man grinned. “If only you could see this day…the day your old friend, Lord Avaris, found the source of your power, and completed your legacy.”

They had been sitting so long Rick’s rear was really getting sore. From the looks on the others, they seemed to feel the exact same way.

This Admiral Tek’yla had the most monotonous voice that Rick had ever heard. And he just kept going and going and going and going…

He was briefing them all about the operations of the base, the geography of the area around the base, the distance to the nearest town, and the location of the Kordak military base on the other side of the planet.

Rick was starting to wonder if he was back in school again with his professor, Dr. Nuvo. At least the teacher had at least asked for class participation.

Before long, he found himself barely able to stay awake. His eyes were closing on their own, growing steadily heavy under their own weight. He started nodding and his neck was giving out beneath his head.

A hand clapped him on the back.

“Best not fall asleep while the admiral is talking,” Greyhawk whispered.

“Is he still going on? I swear it’s been at least seven hours…”

“More like three.”

“Oh…” Rick yawned. “Four more to go, I guess.”

“Something you’d like to add, Mr. Orlan?”

The Bothan was staring at him, annoyed. Everyone else was staring at him as well.

“No…sir,” Rick replied.

“Don’t be hard on him,” Cordillian smiled. “He hasn’t been around long enough to have gotten used to your briefings, sir.”

Tek’yla was not amused. “I was under the impression that the Jedi Council was sending capable and disciplined individuals to bolster our garrison. I see now that I was wrong.”

“You and me both, Admiral,” Master Salar said softly.

No one said anything to that for a long while. Then Cordillian stood.

“Admiral Tek’yla, Master Salar…perhaps I should take these men on a tour of the facility to get them better familiarized? Walking about will certainly keep them awake.”

The Bothan stroked his chin. “Yes, that would be a good idea. I have nothing more to add now. You all are dismissed.”

Rick sighed with relief and stood up promptly. It wasn’t any cooler in the command center than outside, but at least outside he could walk and have a landscape to look at instead of the dull gray walls, the boring images, and the droll admiral.

The group followed Cordillian out of the main entrance and off through the base. There were people all over the place – soldiers training and patrolling, engineers overseeing the works of the camp, Jedi wandering and meditating…no one paid them any mind at all.

“You’ll have to forgive Admiral Tek’yla,” Cordillian said at length. “He is a veteran commander and a good officer, but he’s gotten more boring with age, I’m afraid.”

“Boring?” Rick exclaimed. “Who said he was boring?”

“Your yawning and sleepy eyes did.”

“Oh, I suppose they might have suggested it…”

“How high of an alert status is this base?” Greyhawk asked, changing the subject. “There are quite a few soldiers and defenses, but it doesn’t seem too crazy here.”

Cordillian sighed. “It’s not as high as it should be, let me tell you straight out. Following Master Salar’s counsel, Tek’yla has chosen to show as little aggression or hostility as possible. This is supposed to show the Kordak that we don’t mean harm…but I think it’s just showing them we’re weak.”

“You think they will attack?” Targon asked. “Why?”

“I’ve been an officer for many years,” Cordillian replied. “I fought as a second lieutenant during the final days of the Great War. And during my career, I’ve seen plenty of moments when weaknesses were taken advantage of because an enemy decided to let down their guard.”

“But there’s no cause for war yet, is there?” Greyhawk inquired.

“With the Kordak…” the Vice Admiral paused. “They’re aggressive and proud. I don’t believe they’ll tolerate any more suspicious circumstances. If Talhawk so much as smells a Republic attack, he’ll muster his warships and hammer us hard. And don’t you suppose he won’t strike here first.”

“Easy now, sir,” a voice approached. “Let’s not scare the new guys before they’re settled in.”

They turned and saw Aric Trinn approach, followed by his teammates. Cordillian smiled at them.

“At least I’m not putting them to sleep like Tek’yla was.”

Aric laughed. “No sir.”

“What do you have to report?” the Vice Admiral’s voice was immediately professional and proper.

The Lt. Colonel saluted. “Our patrol was uneventful. The jungle was quiet…even when we were three klicks from the Kordak outpost.”

“That close? You should have heard them cursing at each other, if not their machinery.”

“There was nothing, sir,” Trinn reiterated. “We thought it odd and headed back as soon as we could. Scans couldn’t find anything either. Nobody hailed our shuttle either, though we were certainly within their sight range. It’s almost as if they packed up and left.”

“Or they were…” Cordillian began, but he was cut off as Greyhawk perked up suddenly.

“You hear that?” the old soldier asked. “It’s a soft droning…”

The Vice Admiral turned and bellowed, “Spectres!”

A wailing alarm screamed just as more than a dozen skyships appeared in the air above the base, just outside the perimeter. They faded in from nothing, and once visible, they began firing bright blue beams that caused whatever they struck to explode violently.

Chaos ensued. Soldiers and engineers scrambled all over, firing back at the large aircraft as they hummed overhead.

These vehicles were large, sleek, and silver – like the warships in space. They had a large pair of wings up front and a smaller pair of rectal fins at the engines. Double-barreled turrets swiveled in the shadows of the wings, firing at everything below.

When they were over the base, the ships opened up doors along their underside as soldiers poured out, dropping to the ground and attacking at once.

These warriors were large, almost seven feet tall and wider than any man. They wore thick armor, colored silver and cobalt. Their helmets had the Mandalorian T-shaped visors, but they were crested and shaped like skulls. They all bore the symbol of a great blue eagle.

Republic troops marshaled to engage them, but the invaders charged into them too quickly to be able to offer any kind of major resistance. Both sides shot volleys at one another, but soon they were getting too close to each other.

Man to man, the Republic soldiers didn’t stand a chance. Each warrior’s rifle had a large bayonet. Combined with their incredible strength, the invaders broke the still confused defenders easily.

Buildings were ablaze, the air was thick with smoke and shouting. The jungle was lighting up with blues and reds from lasers and explosions.

Aric shouted at them. “Get to your ship!”

“Without a fight?” Greyhawk shook his head. “We’ve got to defend the base!”

“It’s lost!” Trinn barked. “There’s too many – and they’ve taken us completely by surprise. We’ve got to get out of here and regroup!”

Cordillian nodded. “Aric, lead them out of here.”

“What about you, sir?”

“I need to see that we get as many out of here as we can. Go now! That’s an order.”

“Where do we regroup?” Targon asked.

“We’ll decide that when we’re up,” Trinn answered.

They all bolted for the docked ships. Other men were doing the same – and the attackers noticed.

A troupe of soldiers pursued them, firing at their heels.

Trinn pointed at Scarlet. “Give us some cover!” he ordered.

Without a word, the woman leaped to the left, taking position behind a fence. She had a long rifle out, but it was no sniper. She let loose a flurry of bolts in quick succession, mowing down most of the lead pursuers.

Swann stopped to give her aid, firing his own blaster. Together, they caused the attackers to fall back. At least for the moment.

It was long enough to see the fleers to their ships. The transports fired up and started lumbering into the air. Rick led the group as they rushed up the ramp of the Lone Eagle. He dove to his pilot’s chair and started his ship up.

Targon was in the cockpit as well. But he wasn’t sitting in the co-pilot’s chair. Someone else was there.

It was a woman, tall and slender, with bright red hair, wearing white uniform over here light armor.

“And who are you supposed to be?” Rick asked harshly as they took off.

“No time to explain, you need to get out of here.” Her voice was curt and sharp.

“Unless you want to head back down to the planet from orbit, you’d better start talking.”

“Who is this?” Aric Trinn asked as he entered.

The woman stood. She bore the Republic’s symbol on her shoulder. “Lt. Colonel Aric Trinn, I was ordered to find you.”

“Who are you?” he asked.

“Anna-sa Kyja, Republic Special Forces, Ghost Corps, sir.”

Targon raised an eyebrow. “I’ve never heard of Ghost Corps.”

“Nor have I,” Aric Trinn frowned.

“We’re a special task force for Republic Intelligence. It was formed only recently, sir, to counter the infamous Imperial Intelligence.”

“So what? “ Rick asked. “You’re a special agent?”

“Exactly.”

“There’s no time to go over the details,” Aric growled. “We need to contact the Admirals and see if they got off the planet safely.”

“Shouldn’t we contact your fleet?” Rick asked.

“They seem a little busy right now,” Targon pointed out the window.

A panorama of blue and red lights flashed across the stars. Scattered about was the Republic fleet, and moving to surround them were the Kordak ships. Bright orange flashes erupted often, the sign of a ship destroyed. Most were Republic.

“What the frell is going on?” Rick cursed. “I thought you said we weren’t at war!”

“We are now,” Kyja stated. “I was sent to inform you, Colonel, that the Kordak League has declared war against the Republic. My orders were to see that you and Admiral Tek’yla received the news.”

“Well, we know now,” Aric growled.

“Wait…” Targon hesitated. “Why? Why has the League attacked?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss it with you, Jedi.”

“Then discuss it with me,” Trinn ordered brusquely.

She complied. “Republic Intelligence learned recently that there was an attack on the League’s capital. It was a raid into their renown library. Countless relics were destroyed or stolen, and over three hundred guards and civilians were killed. According to reports, there were Republic soldiers among the corpses, and the guards were killed with lightsabers.”

“That’s preposterous!” Trinn spat. “The Republic would never!”

“Nor the Jedi,” Targon added. “There has to be some mistake.”

“Mistake or no,” Kyja’s face was grim. “Talhawk has declared a crusade against both the Republic and the Jedi Order to avenge the attack.”

“That’s a little extreme, don’t you think?” Rick shook his head.

“Not for Talhawk,” Trinn sighed. “So the attack began here…we’ll need to warn the nearby systems.”

“That’s what I was going to tell you next, sir,” Kyja sighed. “The entire Kordak fleet has been unleashed…and they’ve invaded in five separate systems at once.”

Everyone’s face expressed their shock. Even Aric’s discipline was struck dumb.

There was a beeping on the console. A hail.

Rick hit the button and a hologram appeared.

“This is Vice Admiral Raynor Cordillian to the Lone Eagle, can you read me?”

Aric steeled himself and replied, “Yes sir, we made it out. I’m glad that you have too.”

“It wouldn’t be the case without Master Salar’s skill with a saber,” Cordillian said. “Tek’yla, Salar, and I have made it to the cruiser Autumn Moon along with the rest of the survivors. I’m afraid there aren’t many left.”

“Sir,” Trinn began. “The fleet?”

“Tek’yla has named Autumn Moon his flagship and given the command for all Republic forces in this sector to fall back to the planet Teth. There we are to regroup and prepare our defenses against the Kordak League’s invasion.

“Teth, sir?” Trinn frowned. “There’s nothing there but a more savage jungle than Yunkai. There aren’t even any settlements.”

“Unfortunately, Lt. Colonel,” Cordillian sighed. “It’s also the last planet still standing along the border. The League’s assault has the entire sector reeling. We need to regroup wherever we can to prepare to combat them.”

“I understand, sir,” Trinn nodded. “We will rendezvous with the Republic fleet at Teth.”

The hologram shorted out.

“So much for a simple assignment, eh, Targon?” Rick grimaced.

Targon only shook his head and closed his eyes. He could feel the deaths, even at such as distance. Strange visions flashed in his mind – hundreds of Doom Ships raining fire down on planets from orbit. Infernos consuming forests and cities.

He felt the hand of the Dark Side at work. But that didn’t make sense…Wild Space was far from the Empire. There was no way they could reach here…could they?

Shaking off the thought, he decided that it was only the tremors of war and death echoing through the Force.

A storm was in the making for a long time, but now it had finally arrived. Just as he had foreseen. The plan had worked perfectly, and now the dark clouds burst, showering everything with rain and lightning.

He couldn’t have asked for a better sign.

A presence, bristling with rage and impatience, approached from behind.

“I hope you are more subtle when you approach your victims, Tauros,” he said simply.

“Always, master. I can never hide myself from you.”

“Indeed,” Avaris turned away from the window and the great storm outside to face his apprentice. “Have they assembled?”

“The Conclave has gathered and the fleet is ready.”

“And…?”

“And the Black Nova is nearly completed. It will be ready by the end of the week.”

Avaris shook his head slightly. “There’s no need to rush its construction. We want the war to continue until both sides are battered and broken.”

“Yes, master.”

“Come,” he stepped forward and headed for the door, his cloak and his apprentice trailing behind him.

His cloak was deep indigo, with shimmering gold lining. Hardly the outfit that would be acceptable to a typical Sith Lord. But Avaris knew he was not like the other Sith Lords.

Tauros looked more like those types. His black and red armor, cloak, mask…but he was effective, and far greater than many of those who had been Avaris’ peers.

Avaris regarded him with his empty white eyes. “I sense your anxiousness, Tauros. Are you so eager for battle?”

“My rage needs purpose,” his apprentice growled. “Stuffed in this citadel I am like a beast in chains.”

“Soon,” Avaris smiled softly. “Soon, you will be freed, my loyal beast.”

“Yes, master.”

They walked down a long and dismal hallway. The stone floor was uncarpeted, and the tall gray pillars were bleak. Atop the columns, running along the ceiling, were statues of savage beasts carved carefully out of the rock.

Avaris didn’t think the one who decorated this place had much imagination or taste. Sooner or later, he figured, some furnishings were going to need to be put up. At least some color, anyway.

A door opened before them and they entered a great chamber. Along the walls were more statues, these ones carved in the likeness of hooded Lords of the Sith, staring down upon the occupants of the room. In the middle of the chamber was a grand throne, several steps high. Before the seat was a circular table where several lords sat. They all rose as Avaris and Tauros entered.

He regarded them coolly, passing them by and making his way up the steps. When he sat upon the throne, the others were seated. All except Tauros – he was standing silently at the foot of his master’s seat, watching them.

My loyal beast, Avaris mused.

He held out his hands with his palms facing upward in a welcoming gesture. “Well met, my friends. I trust you all arrived safely and were treated comfortably?”

“Well enough, Lord Avaris,” an old man with a silver beard answered.

“I shall see about making things less hospitable then,” Avaris smiled. “After all, we are Sith, are we not? Comfort and safety are not things we worry about.”

“True, my lord,” another man – a ridiculously well-dressed man – bowed his head. “But hospitality never hurts.”

“Sometimes it can be more dangerous than hostility,” a hulking Pureblood grumbled. “The hidden blade is to be feared more than the brandished one.”

“Wise counsel,” Avaris nodded. “Though we of the Covenant need not fear each other here. Not in my presence.”

“Can we presume then, Lord Avaris,” a bald man with near a dozen earrings began, “that our plans are in place, since we have gathered?”

“Our plans?” Tauros growled. “They are Lord Avaris’ plans, not yours.”

“Heel, Tauros,” Avaris held up a hand. “To answer you, Lord Imperus, the plans have indeed been put to motion. War has broken out along the frontier of Wild Space. A terrible and bloody conflict, with worlds ravaged and the Republic dares not send more of their thinly stretched forces to quell the situation.”

“The Republic fleet is far larger than the Kordak…should they mobilize the entire fleet the war will end swiftly.”

“Yes, but not easily,” Avaris smiled. “Besides…who is the Republic more afraid of? The Kordak League that will only be able to take a few sectors or the Empire that could conquer everything in one strike? They will not send the rest of the fleet.”

“This is what you are hoping for,” the old man nodded.

“Of course. With both armies at each others’ throats, we will have little work to do in stepping in and annexing the entire region.”

“For the Empire or for the Covenant?” Imperus asked.

Avaris sighed. Standing up, he made his way down the steps.

“Gentlemen,” he shook his head. “Do you suppose us to be a splinter from the Empire? Do you presume that we are rebels?”

“Are we not?” the Pureblood asked. “Last I checked, we bore the banner of Toxeti and forsook the weak Sith on Korriban.”

“You are a great warrior, Fyr,” Avaris stared at him. “Yet as a warrior you see things as too simple. Yes, we bear Toxeti’s symbol and continue his legacy,” he pointed up at the great banner above them, a pair of black eyes on a violet field. “Yes, we do not associate ourselves with the Sith on Korriban…but we fight for the Empire, my friends. The Empire.”

“That isn’t how many of us have been led to believe,” Fyr growled.

“I have not deceived you, gentlemen. You have made assumptions on your own about our mission. Our mission is to bring victory to the Empire, not defeat.”

“How so?” the fancy clad man inquired. “If we are not in the Empire or answer to the Empire…?”

“You too, Lord Ebon? Have you all been so truly blind?” Avaris sighed.

“No, my lord,” a man in gold armor shook his head. “Only a few of the Conclave have failed to see your purpose.”

“I presume you are not one of them, Lord Sinitar?”

The man smiled. “Indeed, my lord.”

“Feh!” Ebon spat. “If that is truly the case, then why don’t you share it with the rest of us?”

“It is not my place,” Sinitar replied.

Avaris rubbed his temple. His Conclave – the members of his Dark Covenant. They were all loyal, he knew…but why did it seem that so many of them were turning out to be rather stupid? If he had known they were like this he wouldn’t have wasted his time with them.

Ah, well, they were going to have to prove themselves soon or they would perish.

“Gentlemen, I shall tell you what our goal is,” he said loudly. “Our goal is to gain victories for the Empire and then we shall use our success and prestige to institute a new regime into the Empire.” Or at least, he thought to himself, the worthy ones will.

Fyr laughed, and Ebon followed. “So we are rebels after all,” the Pureblood barked.

“Did I say that?” Avaris scowled.

“Indeed you did,” Ebon hooted. “Overthrow the Emperor and the Dark Council? I am starting to think I joined a comedy club rather than a Covenant.”

The ridiculously dressed man was suddenly cast to the floor, writhing in pain and crying out in alarm. The others watched him unmoving.

Tauros was standing over him. “You do not mock Lord Avaris,” he snarled pulling out his saber. It had a very long handle, almost the length of an arm.

“No, Tauros,” Avaris held up his hand. “No, I don’t want him dead. The mess he would make would be a headache to clean.”

His words and charisma weren’t going to be enough to keep this rabble in line. Many of these Sith were ambitious and clever, but others were foolish and careless. He should have taken greater effort to find better members for the Conclave. But he had to use what he had.

It was time then to test his theory…

“Ousting the Emperor would be quite impossible on our own, surely,” Avaris said. “We are too few to challenge him. But my plans have been made with care and precision. I think you all will agree as well.”

“Well, spit it out already,” Imperus rolled his eyes. “Your voice is nice, but not enough that I want to listen to it all day.”

Avaris ignored him. “Well, first of all, we are to let the Kordak break the Republic’s forces in Wild Space. With no reinforcements, that shouldn’t take too long. The end of the week will be our time to move.”

“Move?” Ebon stood up, having recomposed himself. “How? We have maybe fifty warships, maybe not even that. Once we do anything, the Empire will see us violating the Treaty and will finish us in short order.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Avaris frowned. “As I said, I’ve been careful.”

“Bugger that!” Imperus rose as well. “You’re insane, Avaris! Even more than Toxeti! Have you already forgotten what happened to him?”

Avaris seemed ready to explode into a terrible fury, and most of the lords feared he might. But Avaris reached into his sleeve and pulled something out.

A crystal.

He held it in his pale hands, holding it out in front of him and pointing it towards the men who mocked him. “Behold, gentlemen, the key to our victory.”

Some laughed, some cocked eyebrows, but only a few kept silent.

“What is that supposed to be?” Fyr asked.

“This is one of the legendary Falcori Crystals – sacred and secret power of the Necillians. They have harnessed the power of these stones to power their great warships, to cloak their vessels, and to enhance their abilities. For generations they have drawn upon stored energy, but now I have the source!”

“And so…” Ebon began.

“Fools! Blind fools! This is how Toxeti was so successful and effective. He gained a small piece of these crystals to cloak his fleet, inspire his followers, and even upgrade his lightsaber. His overconfidence was his downfall, and he could not find more of these crystals. But now I have them all! We shall conquer all with this power.”

“What’s to stop any of us from taking that power for ourselves?” Fyr asked.

“Scoundrel! Mongrel!” Sinitar rose and approached Avaris. He bent his knee before the Sith Lord. “Lord Avaris, accept my service and my loyalty. I shall serve the Dark Covenant.”

Some of the other lords followed suit. Fyr, Ebon, Imperus, and others remained standing, balking at the sight.

“I’ve seen enough,” Ebon shook his head.

“You have seen nothing,” Avaris smiled. “Blind you have been, but I shall make you see. I shall show you what Toxeti never thought possible.”

He held up the crystal. It started to pulse and glow and heat. The defiant Sith Lords found themselves unable to look away from it. They stared at it until their heartbeats were in sync with the pulse.

Then they bowed before him, swearing their power and their lives to the Dark Covenant. To him.

Avaris smiled and turned to Tauros. His apprentice bowed.

“My lord, you truly are all-powerful.”

“I shall prove it further,” Avaris inclined his head. “When the Black Nova is prepared, I want you to command it. Lead the fleet to begin the assault. Take Lord Ebon with you.”

“Ebon? But he…”

“He is one of my most loyal servants now,” Avaris smiled. “Toxeti’s followers obeyed him because of his power and leadership. And that was with but a fraction of the power I wield now.”

Tauros bowed again. “I shall do as you say. I shall take the Black Nova, and we shall be invincible.”

“And when Wild Space falls,” Avaris grinned, “we shall rise and claim the Empire for ourselves.”

“All ships, form up!” Admiral Tek’yla ordered. Cordillian could hear in his voice, even through the comm., that his courage was waning. He couldn’t judge him…the battle was going poorly.

The ships outshined the stars, and the explosions were even brighter. Fighters zigzagged all around the slower warships. Streaks of bright beams showered all over. It might have been a pretty sight, were it not connected with the subsequent deaths of countless brave men and women.

Cordillian stood sturdy on the bridge of the Sword of Truth, despite the continual shaking.

“Shields, status,” he said as calmly as possible.

The engineer looked up. “Holding for now, sir. We’re not getting pounded like the others just yet.”

Cordillian nodded at the answer. He then glanced up at the tactical display.

Tek’yla was calling for order and formation…that was easier said than done. The fleet had exited hyperspace for a brief moment before the Kordak fleet swooped in out of nowhere. Capital ships were scrambling fighters to intercept, but three cruisers were destroyed before they could react enough.

The images made a fitting metaphor – the school of Republic fish had scattered, and the hungry Kordak sharks were snatching them up as soon as they were in range. Only the ships that managed to hold together around Tek’yla’s flagship were able to muster resistance to stem the onslaught. For now.

“So much for our counteroffensive,” Cordillian sighed. The battle was falling apart, anyone could see that. They had mustered as many ships as they could to retake the Grixis system and its trove of resources…but it seemed Talhawk had gathered his fleet at the very same area. It was as if he had known…

“You think they have spies?” Targon asked.

Cordillian turned about quickly, surprised at the sudden entrance of the Jedi Knight. When he saw it was only the boy, he sighed with relief and calmed his nerves.

“I don’t know about spies,” he shook his head. “The Kordak were never fond of spying on the enemy. If they ever found any of ours in their ranks they killed them immediately. But maybe they interrogated someone…”

“Sir,” a lieutenant piped up. “Admiral Tek’yla is hailing us.”

“Patch him through,” Cordillian nodded.

There was a moment of jumbled words lost in static, but finally the admiral’s voice came through. “Raynor, we can’t keep losing ships like this. I need to you lead your van to break our boys out of the League’s claws.”

“Sir?” Cordillian exclaimed. “That’s not possible. If we divide our forces now, the Kordak will tear us apart. We should retreat while we still have enough ships to continue fighting another day.”

“We can’t retreat!” Tek’yla’s voice sounded desperate. “If we fall back, three more systems will fall to the League. And if they find out that agents on the planet were preparing to aid us in our attack, then Talhawk will bomb their cities to rubble.”

“And if we don’t get out of here, there won’t be any Republic ships in this region for six hundred light years.”

“Cordillian, I gave you an order and I expect you to carry it through.”

“Sir, I must strongly caution against this maneuver…”

“Sir!” the lieutenant shouted. “Part of the Kordak fleet is forming up and spearheading towards our center!”

Cordillian looked to the display and saw that the young man’s statement was true. Nearly a dozen Kordak cruisers were heading for the Republic fleet’s cluster. A dozen Blue Talon-class vessels…and one Silver Talon-class battleship.

“The Gyrfalcon,” Cordillian’s eyes widened in dismay. “Admiral Tek’yla, Talhawk’s flagship is headed right for us.”

“I see that, Raynor,” the admiral sounded strangely cool. “This is our chance!”

“Sir?”

“If we take out Talhawk, the League will be left without its powerful leader and we can bring an end to this war.”

“Sir, we can’t go up against that!”

Targon raised an eyebrow. “What’s the matter?”

“Look out there, son,” Cordillian pointed to the viewport. Outside, casting a dark shadow over the other ships was a monster. It looked like a giant version of the typical Doom Ship, but at its bow was a huge arrowhead bristling with turbolasers and spewing Spectres out from launch decks.

“Is that a carrier?” Targon asked.

“Carrier, dreadnaught, command center, and bombardier,” Cordillian nodded. “It’s the devil’s ship, if he ever had one.”

“This is why it must be destroyed!” Tek’yla was sounding bold now – probably drunk with battle.

“Sir, it cannot be done,” Cordillian pleaded. “We must retreat.”

“No retreat! All ships, this is Admiral Tek’yla. Focus all your fire and attack on the Kordak command vessel. We must destroy Arcon Talhawk here and end this war.”

Cordillian frowned and bowed his head in dismay. There was no dissuading the Bothan. He was going through with this. He would get himself killed, along with the entire fleet.

“Cordillian?” Targon’s face showed the same concern.

He fixed his hair and stood up straight. “Targon Karashi, I recommend you contact your friends on the Lone Eagle and tell them to dock on our hangar. They’ve done all they can out there.”

“Sir?” the lieutenant and the rest of the bridge were staring at him. “Shall we commence with the attack?”

Cordillian said nothing for a long time. He watched out the window as Autumn Moon started moving to engage the Gyrfalcon. Finally, he sighed.

“Patch me through to the fleet,” he said simply.

The lieutenant nodded and opened the channel.

Cordillian breathed deep for a moment. “This is…Admiral Raynor Cordillian. I am assuming control of the fleet with the death of Admiral Tek’yla. All ships, prepare to jump to hyperspace to meet at command.”

“What is the meaning of this?” Tek’yla’s voice shrieked over the comm. “What do you think you’re doing Vice Admiral? Have you forgotten your place?”

“I repeat,” Cordillian straightened and said bolder this time. “All ships prepare for retreat.”

“You’ll be court-martialed for this, Raynor!”

A bright blue light flashed from the head of the Gyrfalcon. Then a stream of energy streaked out from the arrow tip towards Autumn Moon.

The ship exploded instantly.

“By the Force!” Targon gasped. “What did…?”

Admiral Cordillian knew it was done now. “All ships, full retreat!”

“Sir,” the lieutenant said suddenly. “The Kordak fleet is disengaging!”

“What?”

“They’re leaving!”

Cordillian checked the display, and even looked out the window. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. All the Kordak ships were turning around, gathering together, and jumping into hyperspace.

“Where are they going?” Targon asked.

“More importantly,” Cordillian’s voice was weak, “what are they thinking? They could easily finish us. Why…?”

A hologram appeared of a red haired woman in a white uniform.

“Admiral Cordillian,” she saluted.

“Anna-sa Kyja,” the admiral nodded. “What is it?”

“I have news about the League. They’re under attack.”

“Attack? From whom?”

“I…don’t know, sir. All I know is that five systems are under attack at this very moment. The Kordak fleet has been recalled to defend them.”

Cordillian shook his head and wiped sweat from his brow. “This doesn’t make sense…we would have known about Republic reinforcements.”

“They’re definitely not Republic, sir,” the agent’s face was grim.

“And how do you know that?” Cordillian asked.

Kyja held her hand to her receiver at her ear for a moment and nodded. “I’ve just received this…I’m patching it through.”

Her shape disappeared and another figure took her place. It was a man with a hood. His face was decorated with tattoos, and he had the empty white eyes of an Arkanian.

“Bow before the Dark Covenant,” the man commanded. “Submit to the inevitable or be destroyed. Ships and machines are nothing next to the power of the Dark Side. This region is ours, and all those who stand against us shall be swept away.”

The figure disappeared and Kyja’s image returned.

“Who is that?” Cordillian demanded.

“I don’t know, sir. Lt. Colonel Aric Trinn would like to speak with you directly, sir.”

“Send him through,” Cordillian sighed. One thing after another…

The young colonel appeared. “Sir, we’ve got major problems!”

“What’s the matter, Trinn? I thought Tek’yla stationed you and your squad for defense of Republic Command on Teth?”

“We are on Teth, sir,” Trinn nodded. “But I’ve called for evacuation of the base.”

“Why? What’s going on?”

“I don’t know what it is, sir, but it’s big.”

“What?”

“It’s…” the transmission shorted out.

“Trinn?!” Cordillian exclaimed.

“Should we return to command, sir?” the lieutenant asked.

“No, we can’t risk losing the entire fleet.” Cordillian turned to Targon. “I need you to board your ship and find out what’s happening at Teth. If you encounter anything, report back to me.”

Targon nodded and left.

Cordillian collapsed into his command chair and rubbed his head. This was turning into a nightmare.

The planet of Teth stretched out across the wide window. It was a dirty color, the color of forests and wilderness.

Tauros stared out the transparisteel silently, arms folded. The Republic’s command center for the entire region was down there, as well as hundreds of soldiers, equipment, commanders, and even docked ships loading up supplies to aid in the war effort. All of them were helpless against the Black Nova.

Footsteps approached from behind, but he didn’t bother to turn around.

“You’re sure the crystal is aligned properly?” Lord Ebon asked. “Lord Avaris will not be pleased if everything does not go well.”

“I oversaw the construction of this weapon myself,” Tauros growled menacingly. “I know whether it is ready or not.”

“Can we trust you to be sure?” Ebon asked. “You have failed assignments before…”

“And been the stronger for it!” Tauros whirled about, staring down the well-dressed man from behind his black mask. “I have fought countless battles, and for each failure I have grown more powerful and accomplished a dozen more. My master entrusted me with this weapon, and I know how to see his will through.”

“Yes, but...”

Tauros wasn’t about to let him utter another syllable. “Besides,” he snapped. “What better way to prove I am right than through this test?”

Ebon got the hint to shut up.

Tauros turned away from him. Lord Ebon may now be completely loyal to Avaris thanks to the power of his master, but Tauros believed he still retained his stupidity. Were it not for Avaris’ will, he would have shortened Ebon a head right then.

He faced the engineers. “What are you all staring at?” he snarled. “You may fire when ready.”

Some lights dimmed, some blinked, and a low hum resounded in the air.

An indigo light grew brighter and brighter outside. The walls and floor of the Black Nova shuddered from the vibrations of pulsing power. Finally, a massive beam shot from the vessel and down to the planet below.

Two seconds passed…

…Then the surface of the planet ignited into a massive inferno. An explosion flashed so large that Tauros could see the glow light up the command deck for a brief moment. He could feel the tremors through the Force, the rush of the Dark Side…he even thought he could feel the heat from the massive explosion.

Several minutes passed before the blast cleared up. Though fires still raged visibly across the planetscape all that remained in the blast zone was a charred wasteland.

“Sir,” an engineer said meekly. “Because of the radiation, our sensors can’t pick up if any of the Republic survived or escaped the blast.”

“It matters not,” Tauros shrugged. “For such a small chance, the survivors will simply bear witness to the Covenant’s capabilities. All Wild Space is ours, and the galaxy shall tremble at the power we hold in hands.”

A hologram flickered on, and Avaris appeared, arms folded.

Tauros and Ebon bowed at his presence.

Avaris began, “And the first test was…?

“…A complete success, master,” Tauros finished. “The Republic’s command base has been incinerated.”

“Excellent,” Avaris smiled. “Proceed then with the attack on the Kordak outpost of Dies-Ira, and the planet Grixis to wipe out the Republic fleet.”

“After that, master?”

Avaris shook his head amusedly. “When you are finished with them, we shall see. Should the Kordak choose not to surrender, we shall attack their homeworld itself. And when Wild Space is ours, a whole galaxy full of potential targets awaits you.”

The image disappeared and Tauros rose. He pointed to the engineers. “You heard Lord Avaris! Set a course for Kordak space.”

He glanced back at the ruined planet. Teth’s forests might grow again and erase today…but the scar shall remain for all time.

The mark of the Covenant.

“Attention everyone, this is your captain speaking,” Rick said into the speakers through the ship. “We are nearing our intended destination. Please be sure to…”

“Shut up, Rick!” Gabrielle’s voice hollered through the halls. “This isn’t the time for stupid japes!”

Rick felt a shiver as he was chewed out. “Sorry,” he muttered to himself. “Just trying to light the mood.”

“It was a poor attempt!”

That was when Rick realized the mic was still on. He blushed and casually turned it off.

“Can’t blame her for being professional,” Targon shrugged next to him.

“Yeah, well, she should lighten up a bit. I think I liked her more as the singer than the bounty hunter.”

“Can’t blame you for that either,” Targon smiled.

“No, you can’t,” Rick winked. “Well, here we are, exiting hyperspace and…” he was cut short. “Holy fierfek!”

Targon couldn’t blame the captain for the curse. They came back into realspace and Teth zoomed up to meet them. But a huge portion of the surface was blackened.

“What the…?!” Greyhawk gasped as he entered the cockpit. “I might be old but I could swear I didn’t see that there before.”

“What happened?” Targon asked no one in particular.

Rick shook his head, still gaping at the sight. “There’s no signs of any ships…that doesn’t make sense. A bombardment to reach that level would take days, and we would have arrived while they were in the middle of it.”

“What could do that?” Greyhawk asked. “Couldn’t be fission weapons, could it?”

“Since when does anyone use those anymore?” Rick asked.

“Mandalorians do.”

“Oh, well…do you mean to suggest that Mandalorians did this?”

“That’s not what I said,” the old soldier sighed.

“It doesn’t matter what did it,” Targon leaned over the dashboard. “What matters is that we start looking for survivors.”

Rick glanced at the console. “I don’t see anything on the scanners…too much radiation interference.”

“Then we’ll have to look with our eyes,” Greyhawk grumbled. “We’ll be here for a long time.”

Navor and Gabrielle walked in.

“What are you all going on about now?” the Twi’lek asked, and then she saw for herself.

“The presence of the Dark Side is strong here,” Navor stated.

“Yeah, we kind of figured that,” Rick said. “Even us non-Jedi. How about sensing something more significant, eh?”

“Like the fear threatening to run down your leg?” the Jedi countered.

“Those are fighting words, kitty.”

“Stop it, both of you,” Targon said weakly. His eyes were closed and his brow was furrowed in concentration. After a pause he said, “I think I sense someone still alive.”

“Where?” Rick asked.

Instead of answering, Targon took the controls and veered sharply to the left.

At first there was nothing but the stars and the void. Then there was a small dot that slowly got bigger as they neared. It turned out to be a shuttle drifting helplessly in the emptiness.

Targon pressed on the comm.. “Can anyone hear me? This is The Lone Eagle. Please respond.”

There was only static in reply.

“I say again, this is The Lone Eagle. Is anyone there?”

“That shuttle doesn’t look good,” Gabrielle said. “I don’t think…”

There was a slight noise coming over the static just then. Targon twisted the dial to fix the frequency and the channel. For a moment he lost the sound, but then he caught it again. It was coming in clearer.

“…Lone Eagle?... Is that you?...”

“This is The Lone Eagle,” Targon replied smiling. “Who is this?”

“…Colonel…Trinn…”

Everyone’s eyes widened in surprise.

“Aric Trinn, is that you?” Targon asked for confirmation.

“You bet your lightsaber it is,” the Lt. Colonel answered. “You have no idea how glad we are to see you lot just now.”

“What’s your situation?” Rick asked.

The transmission was nearly all cleared up and understandable.

“Our shuttle’s badly damaged. We don’t have propulsion, long range communications…and I think life support is failing.”

“How many are you?”

“It’s just Scarlet, Swann, and me.”

“No one else?”

“I’d gladly answer all questions,” Trinn said bluntly, “after we’re aboard your ship.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll get you, don’t worry.” Rick shook his head. “Pushy, isn’t he?” he muttered.

“I don’t think you can blame him,” Targon shrugged.

“Alright, enough of that,” Rick punched his first mate’s shoulder.

It took a little while for Rick to get the ship latched to the drifting shuttle. But he maneuvered well enough, as though he had done this a couple times before and knew what he was doing.

They latched, and once the survivors were aboard, the detached and let the dead shuttle drift away.

The airlock door opened and three armored individuals spilled through, gasping for air.

“Hmm,” Rick nodded. “Looks like we got to you just in time.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Aric finally stood. Scarlet and Swann followed.

“Do you need anything?” Targon asked. “Bacta? Food? Water?”

“We need to get to the fleet,” Swann answered.

“Better yet,” Aric added, “we need to follow it.”

“Follow what?” Greyhawk asked.

The colonel was about to answer when his legs buckled.

“Maybe you three should sit down,” Rick suggested.

They led them to the main hold and set them down on the furniture. Rick had to clear a bit of junk off to make room for the three.

“You feel up to telling us what happened?” Targon asked.

“There isn’t a choice,” Aric replied. “We’ve got to stop it…before it strikes again.”

“What are you talking about?” Gabrielle asked.

Aric sighed. “It appeared moments after we got reports of invasion into Kordak space. We weren’t sure what to make of the whole situation until we got the message.”

“From this ‘Dark Covenant’?” Targon supposed.

The colonel nodded. “We figured it was the Empire…but none of our intelligence ever reported even rumors of something of this scope.”

“A ship?”

“A huge one. Three times as large as a Republic warship. There was no demand for surrender, and we knew it was an attack when it took out our orbital communications array.”

“And it did…that?” Rick gestured out the viewport to the devastated planet.

“A single shot,” Aric nodded. “It fired a beam of energy from the bow and incinerated everything in a massive radius. We’re only alive because our shuttle was in the upper atmosphere during the attack. The blast blew us spaceward and crippled us. We would have been dead within the hour if you guys didn’t show up.”

“How is a weapon like that possible?” Greyhawk asked. “It would take power beyond reckoning.”

Targon straightened. “Talhawk’s flagship had such a weapon – it destroyed the Autumn Moon instantly. But this…”

“Seems this Covenant has been preparing for an attack,” Gabrielle nodded.

Swann snorted. “I’d say they’ve been playing us since the beginning. I’ll bet you my good arm that they’re behind this war with the Kordak.”

“Might be,” Trinn nodded. “In any case, we’ve got to stop that ship before it attacks again and kills more people.”

“We?” Rick stood aghast. “You can’t be serious! How could we…?”

“We have to!” Trinn stood. “Do you realize that such a weapon in the hands of a Sith would doom the galaxy?”

“We aren’t even sure the Dark Covenant is Sith,” Rick countered.

“What else could it be?” Navor asked.

“It doesn’t matter!” Aric’s voice boomed. “We have to stop it, so we will stop it.”

Everyone was silent for a while.

“Where has it gone?” Greyhawk asked. “How can we know where to find it?”

“I can answer that,” a voice said from behind.

All turned and gasped when they saw the white form of Anna-sa Kyja.

“What are you doing on my ship again?” Rick asked. “How…?”

“I just got here,” she answered. “You really should install some security on your airlock. All I had to do was park my fighter alongside and walk in.”

“My sensors should have…!”

“Radiation’s too heavy for them to be of any use,” the agent shrugged. “How I got here really doesn’t matter.”

“When you just pop in out of nowhere then it does matter!”

“They don’t call it the Ghost Corps for nothing,” Kyja smiled.

“What do you know?” Trinn asked.

“Intel has reported a massive ship moving towards Kordak space, to an outpost at Dies-Ira.”

“How can we know that?” Trinn asked. “We don’t have anything there to see Kordak space. Our furthest point is the fleet at Grixis.”

“That’s where you’re wrong, sir,” Kyja held up a holoprojector. An image of a planet appeared. “Master Salar and his Jedi have set up a small outpost on the third moon of Amura. They’ve been keeping tabs on Kordak space.”

“Salar? How?” Targon asked.

“Master Salar claims to have foreseen an attack from the Dark Side and made preparations long before the war broke out.”

“Jedi and their secrets,” Rick sighed.

“We should contact the fleet,” Scarlet suggested. “They can intercept the ship before it arrives at its next target.”

“Unfortunately, they can’t,” Kyja answered.

“Why not?” Swann asked angrily. “The Kordak fleet is tied up with the Dark Covenant’s invasion. There’s no threat of attack to them.”

“They’re under attack right now,” the agent said sharply.

“What?” Targon gasped. “When?”

“Just now,” the agent replied. “One of the Covenant’s attacks was a feint. As soon as Talhawk arrived, they fled the system and moved to attack Grixis.”

“Huh?” Rick blurted. “That doesn’t make any sense.”

“Actually, it does,” Kyja frowned. “The ploy made it seem like the Republic had planned the effort to draw Talhawk away from Grixis. So now, while the Kordak worlds fall to the Covenant’s other forces, Talhawk himself is not in combat. He will order his forces to withdraw from the besieged worlds when he sees the situation, and then he will prepare to defend the League’s more vital systems.”

“Okay,” Trinn nodded. “But that still doesn’t…”

“There’s more, sir,” Kyja cut him off. “Talhawk may have discovered the Jedi base at Amura. While his fleet maneuvers…”

Targon finished, “…He will attack the outpost himself.”

Kyja nodded grimly. “Just so, young Jedi. I think the Covenant has planned this all carefully.”

“We need to go and help them!” Targon stated.

“No,” Trinn replied. “The surest way to end this war is to stop the Covenant’s weapon before it can attack the Kordak on Dies-Ira. If we show Talhawk that we have a common enemy, we can stop the conflict.”

“And let Talhawk kill the Jedi?”

Navor placed a hand on Targon’s shoulder. “The Lt. Colonel is correct, Targon. We will save more lives by ending the war than by continuing it.”

“But…”

“A Jedi’s life is sacrifice,” the Cathar cut him off. “If the Force wills that Master Salar and the others die so that peace can be made between the Republic and the League, then so be it.”

“You can’t seriously…!”

“That’s enough,” Trinn said gruffly. He turned to Rick. “Captain, as the only commander of the Republic military still alive and present, I order you to set a course of Dies-Ira.”

Rick stared at him blankly, then glanced at Targon, and then back to the colonel, particularly to the gun at his side.

He sighed. “Very well, sir.”

Amura was a pretty enough world, Master Salar had to admit. There were wide fields and tranquil forests for one to wander about and ponder things. The skies were clear and bright…

But he couldn’t help but notice the tremors of the Dark Side that echoed through the world. It could be coming from far beyond…but why he was feeling it here he could not say. Perhaps the war was escalating. He had heard about the strange new development in the war…but he had lost contact with Republic forces to come up with any kind of response.

He sat on a cushion seat, puzzling out what the cause for the silence. This Dark Covenant and their superweapon…where had they come from? How did they fit into the whole conflict?

“Master Salar?” the door opened.

He opened his eyes and saw the familiar sight of Kordan Rek, one of the strongest of the knights he had brought with him to Wild Space.

“Ah,” Salar nodded as he stood. “Come in, Master Rek. What is it you wish to say?”

“I was sensing tremors through the Force,” the dark skinned Jedi replied. “I wondered if you had felt them.”

“Yes, I have. The war is shifting.”

“But in which way, Master?”

“I’m not sure. Perhaps further meditation would reveal the answers.”

“Or we could go and find the answers for ourselves.”

“Unless we can reestablish communications with Republic forces, the last thing we should do is go wildly into the mess without knowing what awaits us.”

“If this Dark Covenant is Sith, then we know what we must do. We must defeat it!”

“Patience, Kordan. Do not be so eager and headstrong as that young Targon Karashi.”

“Yes, Master Salar.”

“I’m sure we will discover the truth soon enough, and then we will be able to decide what to do next.”

He trailed off when he heard the sudden droning sound that he remembered from Yunkai. Salar bounded to the window of his chambers and looked out.

Descending from the empty sky were three Spectres. The shadow of a Silver Talon Doom Ship hovered high above.

Salar reached for his saber. He turned to Kordan and shouted, “Alert the others! Prepare for battle!”

The Spectres circled around the Jedi outpost, creating a perimeter from which nothing could escape. Then the doors opened and troops leaped down, firing their blasters at the scrambling Jedi.

A myriad of sabers ignited – blues and greens and yellows. All around were flashes and explosions of light. Lasers bounced off the blades, but some found their mark on the target.

There were about twenty Jedi caught in the fray, and nearly three times as many attackers. Both sides were sustaining heavy casualties.

Salar’s violet blade swung about in all directions, deflecting shots and cutting down a few enemy soldiers. His face was stern and focuses, his eyes concentrating on the grim act of battle.

A large figure dropped from one of the Spectres, the last one out of the ships. It was tall, and huge.

Salar charged forward, cutting down two more soldiers as he drew closer. He knew who this was – and he knew that this war criminal would be defeated.

Standing to his full stature, Arcon Talhawk stood near seven feet tall. He was armored from head to toe in a strong and thick suit, similar yet much finer to those of his soldiers. A long indigo cape hung over his shoulders. On his helmet, shaped like a fearsome blue skull, were three large crests. It was quite apparent he meant everyone to know who he was in the midst of battle.

He held two weapons in his hands. In his left was a chain, pulsing with electricity, which he swung around as a whip. In his right was a lightsaber, but far different than anything a Jedi used. Its bright blade was near ultraviolet, and it sang instead of hummed.

A Jedi advanced towards him. With a flick of his wrist, he wrapped the chain around the attacker and swung him through the air. The Jedi screamed as he was shocked in the coils, until he was cast aside.

Talhawk caught the blade of another Jedi with his own. They slashed at each other back and forth until the Kordak commander smacked his foe’s face with the hilt of his saber and then followed it up with a quick slash along the abdomen.

Salar’s saber crashed into Talhawk’s. Sparks flew as the different shades of violet crackled against one another. They parted and struck again, and then again and again. He jumped back when Talhawk made a swipe, and then he ducked as he swung the chain afterward.

The Kordak commander was suddenly bowled over by Kordan Rek. The dark-skinned Jedi led with his shoulder and crashed hard into the giant man. He then activated his saber as Talhawk leapt back up to his feet.

Salar took that moment to pick up a piece of debris – part of one of the buildings that had crumbled from the hovering Spectres. Focusing with the Force, he flung the object straight at his foe while he wasn’t looking.

Talhawk turned around just in time to see the incoming attack. He planted his feet tightly into the ground and batted the rubble away with his massive arm. Then he swung his whip at the Jedi who had lobbed it.

Salar leaped backwards, but the chain caught his foot. Pain shook through his leg as it wrapped around his ankle and pulled him down.

Another Jedi leaped out to protect Salar, but he soon found himself without a head after Talhawk made a swipe with his saber.

The Jedi Master finally got the chain off his foot and stood up, though his balance was a bit off. He raised his saber and prepared to come at Talhawk again.

Kordan attacked first, his blue blade crashing against the enemy’s – though the blue light seemed insignificant to the brilliant glow of Talhawk’s blade.

Their sabers created a strange melody as they cut through the air and bashed against one another, then swinging away to clash anew.

Talhawk took a step back and raised his left arm high. He swung the whip forward with lightning speed, causing a crack to ripple through the sound barrier.

Kordan caught it with his saber. The chain wrapped around the blade, hissing and sparkling angrily. Talhawk tried to pull back, but the Jedi held fast and yanked harder. The whip was ripped from Talhawk’s hand and clattered to the ground a ways off.

The Jedi had a brief moment to smile at this triumph. Then he turned to make another swing of his saber…

…But instead his face found Talhawk’s giant, armored fist.

“No!” Salar shouted as he watched Kordan fall backwards, clutching his broken face.

Talhawk made a motion with his hand, and then Kordan flew through the air and crashed into the walls of one of the structures. Making sure he was dead, a pair of troopers took a few shots to his body after it landed.

Salar reached out with the Force, grabbing a rock buried in the ground. He ripped it from the soil and flung it at Talhawk. This time the attack was successful, and the large man stumbled to the ground from the blow.

As Master Salar came forward, Talhawk labored to stand up. But he wasn’t quick enough before Salar was on him, coming down hard with his saber. He could only raise his blade up to keep the attack from reaching his body.

They were stuck then, Salar pushing down and Talhawk pushing up. Both of them were matching each other’s strength. For a while they remained thus, until Salar felt a great big boot plant itself into his stomach and shove him back.

He landed hard on his rear – and his saber clattered from his hand. Before he could reach for it, he found Talhawk’s saber pointed directly at his throat. He could only stare helplessly at the blank eyes of the skeletal helmet.

“Hono Dagor. You and your friends have fought bravely this day,” Talhawk’s voice was loud and had a slight echo to it. “How unfortunate your Republic allies could not fight with same nobility.”

“The Jedi and the Republic fight only for peace,” Salar said simply.

“Peace? I should kill you for your lies alone! Already a great number of my worlds are under attack by a new Republic fleet come to aid your plight.”

“We have no reinforcements,” Salar shook his head. “Those you fight now are our enemies as well. They are a new player in this game.”

“Words alone will not prove your claim,” Talhawk thundered. “These attackers bear lightsabers – and only the Jedi wield such weapons. I myself learned the art and craft of the saber from a Jedi years ago.”

“You are wrong,” Salar spat. “The Sith also wield these weapons. They are the enemy of the Jedi and the Republic. And now they are yours.”

“More empty words,” Talhawk growled.

“Supreme Commander!” a soldier came forward. “The day is ours…but…we have dire news.”

“Speak,” Talhawk ordered, not turning his gaze from Salar.

“A great ship has appeared over Dies-Ira, and the commander fears it is an attack.”

“Indeed it is,” Salar said. “An attack from the Sith.”

There was a long moment of silence as Talhawk remained deathly still.

“Sir?” the soldier asked.

“How many Jedi survive?” Talhawk inquired.

“Five, including him,” the soldier replied with a gesture towards Salar. “They are the only ones who have surrendered.”

Talhawk picked up Salar’s saber and deactivated his own. He took a step back from the confused Jedi Master.

“Master Salar of the Jedi High Council,” Talhawk said stately. “You and your friends are my prisoners.” He then turned to the soldier. “Sal-to! Prepare to depart for Dies-Ira.”

The soldier bowed and left. The Spectres were landing now to allow the soldiers to board them once again.

Talhawk turned back to Salar. “Vash tero dal, Jedi. We shall see if there is truth to your claim. Should you prove false, however, I shall kill you and your friends at once.”

He turned and walked off as a pair of Kordak soldiers lifted Master Salar up, put him in binders, and walked him past the bodies of his comrades toward the nearest gunship.

Rick and Targon gaped at the huge ship straight ahead. The only term they could think of to describe it was…huge.

It was primarily made of a long thick chassis, like the barrel of a gun. There were a pair of massive wings sprouting from the back, where a dozen engines propelled the ship. The metal it was made of was dark and dim, like obsidian or raw iron. At the tip of the bow was a giant blue sphere, pulsing with energy.

“I’m guessing that’s the main weapon?” Rick said.

“Probably,” Targon nodded. “There isn’t much time…it may attack soon.”

“I know,” Rick sighed. “Problem is…how are we supposed to get aboard? If they see us we’re fried. Even from this far I can tell there’s plenty of turbolasers on that thing.”

“So what do you suggest we do?” Targon asked.

“Why don’t we ask our high and mighty Colonel Trinn?”

“You trying to say something there?” the colonel asked as he entered the cockpit.

“Uh…no, nothing at all,” Rick shook his head quickly.

“I’m not exactly sure how to get aboard that,” Trinn admitted. “Is your ship fast?”

“Fast? Really? You’re asking me that? I should be insulted…”

“Just answer the question, captain,” Trinn frowned.

Rick pouted. “Yes, of course she’s fast.” He paused. “Are you thinking we should just try to outrun the guns and head for one of the hangars? Seriously? Just hope they don’t spot us?”

“That is an idea,” Aric nodded.

“Forget it! There’s no way we’re…”

“I have a better idea,” the white armored agent walked in.

“Of course you do,” Rick forced a smile. “You always so conveniently have the answers, don’t you?”

“Most of them, anyway,” Kyja nodded. She stepped forward and started playing around with the dashboard and the wires.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, lady!” Rick jumped from his seat. “Just what do you think you’re doing to my ship’s systems?”

“Improving them.”

“What?!”

She plugged something into the main system and stepped back. “Don’t worry, I’m done.”

“What did you do?”

Kyja smiled. “I installed a cloaking protocol into your ship. It will distort ship’s sensors from detecting this ship easily. All it will appear to be on the scanners is a minor blip. Like a glitch.”

Rick’s jaw dropped. “How?”

“Would you like me to explain?” Kyja asked. “Or would you rather we get aboard that ship and stop it?”

No one said anything after that. Rick sat back down and carefully maneuvered The Lone Eagle towards the leviathan ship. He was holding his breath as they approached, but the vessel showed no sign that it detected them.

“What do you know? It works!” Rick smiled.

“Of course it does,” Kyja sighed.

“Good work,” Trinn nodded to her. “Now all we need to do is get aboard, destroy the ship, and we can end this war with the Kordak.”

Targon refrained from speaking or looking at Trinn. He simply stood up and walked out.

“Still bothered about him, eh?” Navor asked as Targon entered the main hold.

“Jedi don’t hold grudges,” Targon replied.

“Now that’s a bunch of bantha fodder,” Navor frowned. “Anyone that says that is either ignorant or a liar.”

“What do you mean?”

Navor stepped forward. “Jedi are people like everyone else. We hold onto things, we don’t forget easily. We’re supposed to forgive, sure, but it’s not like it’s any easier for us than for all the rest of the galaxy.”

Targon shook his head. “Jedi must always forgive.”

“So I should forgive the sorceress? So you should forgive Aric Trinn or Talhawk?”

“Yes.”

“You’re a silly boy, Targon.”

Targon looked up at him and frowned harder. “And you’re a cynical cat.”

“Indeed I am. I’ve had a lot of years and experiences to become the way I am. I do my duty, but that doesn’t mean I have to like everything that’s happened.”

“We can work to fix this,” Targon stated.

“Fix it? Can you bring back all the people who have died in this war alone? Can you save those colonists consumed by the plague?”

“What’s in the past is done,” Targon straightened. “The duty of the Jedi is to protect others now.”

Navor nodded. “There’s a good lad. Well, then, Jedi Knight Targon Karashi, let’s stop this ship and fulfill our duty.”

The Lone Eagle landed gently in an empty hangar as far towards the front of the ship as they could find. The ramp lowered and the occupants emerged.

Trinn and his squad came out first; making sure the area was secure. Then followed Targon, Navor, Greyhawk, Gabrielle, and Kyja. Last out was Rick, who locked up the ship as he left.

The secrecy and stealth they had obtained in boarding the ship was lost as soon as they entered the first hall. Three Imperial troopers happened upon them while on patrol. The group took out two, but they didn’t get the last one before he had reported intruders on board.

An alarm was screeching through the ship, deafening everyone.

“Quick!” Trinn shouted over the noise. “We need to split up! I’ll take my squad down to the core of this ship. We’ll see about taking out the major systems.”

“Okay,” Rick nodded, his face revealing his annoyance. “What about us?”

“Go to the bridge,” Trinn ordered.

“Why?”

“To stop them from firing and take control of the ship’s command, that’s why!”

“Oh…alright then.”

The Lt. Colonel frowned and shook his head then he and his squad headed off down the corridor and were gone.

“I think there are some flaws in his plan,” Rick announced.

“Doesn’t matter, it’s what we have to do,” Gabrielle said. “We’re here, might as well take out the command of this ship.”

“Besides, it’s important to follow a commander’s orders,” Greyhawk added.

“And this is coming from you?” Rick gave him a look.

“Let’s go!” Navor shouted. He had already started down the hall, his twin sabers activated. “If you don’t hurry, there won’t be anything left for you guys.”

“I’m fine with that,” Rick shrugged.

“Move your tail,” Gabrielle glared.

“Alright, your worship, don’t worry, I’m going.”

They headed down the hall, strangely happening on very few guards or crew. For such a massive ship, there seemed to be less than a skeleton crew.

“What’s the deal?” Rick asked. “Don’t they need some engineers?”

“The crew’s most heavily concentrated on the command deck,” Kyja stated.

“Alright, missy, how can you possibly know that?”

“My ship’s on autopilot and circling the ship taking scans.”

“You just think of everything, don’t you?”

“Pretty much.”

“Cut the chatter you two,” Greyhawk ordered. “Just because we haven’t run into much trouble yet doesn’t mean…”

A door opened ahead of them. Standing in the entrance was a man dressed in the most expensive clothes any of them had ever seen.

“Let me guess,” Gabrielle smiled. “You’re the tour guide for this vessel? You’re a little late.”

“Insolent woman!” the man scowled. “I am Lord Ebon, and I have come to destroy you.”

“Right…” Rick nodded. “Destroy us how? With your fashion sense?”

“Die!” Ebon screamed as he raised his hands and lightning shot forth at them. Navor held up his sabers to take the greater part of the attack, but the others had to dive to the floor to avoid being hit by stray bolts.

“Take a different way, I’ll handle this one!” Navor growled.

The others didn’t hesitate to go back a ways and head down another hall.

Navor leapt forward, twirling his sabers in his hand. The Sith charged to meet him, pulling out his own blade.

Blue crashed against red, and the hall was lit up with flying sparks. Ebon was aggressive, but his attacks were predictable and sloppy, or at least that’s what Navor observed.

The Sith struck forward, but Navor turned to his side to avoid the attack. Then he struck with a downward sweep with his left saber, and followed it up with his right. But Ebon caught the blades as they came together, pushing them aside so that he could attack again.

Navor was quicker, however, and he caught the attack with one saber and severed the Sith’s fighting arm with the other blade.

The Sith shrieked in pain and surprise.

“What’s the matter?” Navor asked. “I thought you Sith enjoyed pain. Or is that only when it’s inflicted on others?”

“Worthless Jedi scum!” Ebon snarled.

“Insults, eh? That’s the best you can do? I miss fighting the sorceress already.”

Ebon turned on his comlink. “Lord Tauros! Jedi have invaded the Black Nova! They’re…there are too many!”

“Oh ho!” Navor grinned. “So you lie like you think you’ll be remembered? That’s sad – real sad.”

“Avenge me!” Ebon shrieked as he lashed out at Navor.

The Jedi wasted no time in dispatching the enemy before he could threaten him. Then he continued on his way down the hall.

“Anybody hear this?” Navor asked into his comlink.

“I hear you,” Trinn answered.

“How are things going? I’ve taken out one of the Sith, but there’s at least one more still to deal with. If he finds you…”

“Trinn’s not the one who needs to worry about the Sith,” Rick’s voice cut in.

“How’s that?”

“He’s right here.”

Greyhawk and Kyja were dangling in the air, gripping their throats. Gabrielle was struggling to get up after having been shoved into the wall. Targon had his saber out and pointed towards the Sith, and Rick was left with only his blasters – what good they would do him.

The Sith’s hands were down at his sides as he stood silently in the middle of the hall. He stared at them from behind his black mask.

“Let them go,” Targon ordered.

“Or what, Jedi? This ship leads only to death.”

“Ours or yours?” Rick countered.

“Clever,” the Sith snorted. “Your wit will not save you, though. My master will be pleased that the Republic’s pitiful force could not succeed in destroying his greatest weapon.”

“Is the weapon this ship or you?” Rick countered.

“Shut up, mongrel, you do not amuse me.”

“I amuse myself,” Rick shrugged.

“Rick, shut up!” Gabrielle shouted from behind.

“Listen to the schutta,” the Sith said. “The longer you continue to annoy me the longer your friends suffer. Lay down your weapons and you all shall have a quick death.”

“Lay down your weapon and surrender,” Targon countered.

“You don’t get to make orders, boy,” the Sith pointed his finger at Targon. “I am Darth Tauros, apprentice to the Lord Avaris. You are nothing!”

At that, he drew his saber. It had an extremely long handle, as long as a double-bladed saber’s. Yet it was only a single blade, bright and bloody crimson.

Greyhawk and Kyja dropped gasping to the ground as Tauros leapt forward. Targon pushed Rick out of the way and rose to meet him. Their blades crashed against each other again and again.

Tauros came from above, striking downward as if to crush the Jedi, but Targon dove out of the way. The Sith pursued him across the hall, and once again their sabers crackled against each other.

With their blades locked together, Targon could feel he was losing ground against the Sith. The blades edged closer towards his neck, evaporating the sweat building on his skin.

Suddenly, the whole ship shook violently. Targon stumbled to the ground, and Tauros wobbled away. He reached for his comlink.

“What happened?” he snarled.

“Enemy ships have entered the system, my lord,” a voice replied.

“Republic or Kordak?”

“Both, my lord.”

Tauros growled ferociously.

Rick was helping the others up. “Looks like you’re out of luck, Sith.”

“Don’t be too sure,” Tauros growled. “This ship can handle far more than a few ships. The power coursing through it alone…”

The whole vessel rocked again, harder this time.

“What is it now?!” Tauros roared.

The voice replied, “My lord, main systems are failing…the crystal’s energy is unstable…it’s going critical!”

“NO!”

Rick laughed. “Guess you didn’t think we had other men on board, did you?”

Tauros made for a door. He turned back and roared, “This isn’t over, fools! The Dark Covenant shall destroy you all!”

“Such melodrama,” Greyhawk rasped.

“Let’s get out of here,” Targon suggested. “We’ll meet Trinn’s group and Navor at The Lone Eagle.”

High above the planet Dies-Ira, the Black Nova erupted into a massive bloom of fire. Pieces of the destruction streaked across the sky of the world, burning up as they shot through the atmosphere.

In the meantime of this, several shuttles began descending on the outpost. Republic and Kordak shuttles. And one freighter that had escaped the giant explosion of the superweapon.

“So, explain to me how this all happened?” Rick asked yet again.

Targon sighed and rubbed his temples. “Rick, really, we’ve gone through this three times already.”

“I know, I know…but it doesn’t make any sense.”

“No it doesn’t, but understanding isn’t what’s important. What’s important is that Talhawk has agreed to meet with Admiral Cordillian about discussing a ceasefire.”

“All because we blew up that ship?”

“That and the fact that we have a common enemy…and Talhawk has Master Salar as a prisoner.”

“Really? I thought that Mr. High and Mighty was too good to be captured.”

“That’s exactly the attitude he seems to have a problem with me being around.”

“So let him sue me.”

Targon smiled and shook his head. “Come on, let’s just go to the meeting.”

“All of us? You know I’m allergic to boredom…”

“Cordillian requested we all be there.”

“Well…if the admiral commands…”

Inside the Kordak base, a large circular table had been prepared in a huge room. On one wall hung the banner of the Kordak League – a great blue eagle on a silver field. On the opposite wall hung the Republic’s banner.

Talhawk sat at one side of the table, attended by his soldiers and officers…and Master Salar in binders. On the other side were Cordillian, his officers and guards, and a vacant area that was where the crew of the Lone Eagle was to be.

“Have you noticed that none of the guys are armed?” Rick whispered.

“What part of peace conference don’t you understand?” Greyhawk asked.

A large Necillian walked up to them, his hand held out.

“Your weapons,” he commanded.

“Who? Us?” Rick asked.

The soldier wasn’t laughing.

“Okay, okay…” Rick handed him his pistols. Gabrielle and Greyhawk followed, and then Trinn and his squad, Kyja, and then Navor.

The soldier then looked at Targon. “Your lightsaber too, Jedi.”

“Surely you trust the Jedi not to cause any treachery?” Targon asked.

“We hold one of your masters in binders. Do you suppose we trust your kind?”

Targon sighed. “This isn’t a good idea,” he muttered as he handed his lightsaber over. The soldier then took the weapons over to a large vault where everyone else’s weapons were stored.

Everyone finally took their seats.

“Thank you for agreeing to this meeting,” Cordillian said cordially. “I hope we will be able to negotiate civilly and find a suitable end to this conflict.”

The Kordak commander said nothing in response.

Cordillian cleared his throat. “Might we begin with a promise of nonviolence during this meeting?”

“Why do you think I put locked up all the weapons?” Talhawk asked.

“Well…I see that…but Necillians are well known for their brute strength.”

There was a pause, and then Talhawk laughed. “I’ll promise no fights, if the Jedi promise no tricks.”

“Agreed, then,” Cordillian nodded.

“You’ve got quite a bit of explaining to do,” Talhawk began. “The Republic has much to answer for.”

“I assure you,” Cordillian shook his head. “The Republic has done nothing against the Kordak League. All of these incidents are undoubtedly the machinations of the Dark Covenant to turn us against one another.”

“Perhaps,” Talhawk nodded slightly. “But can you prove your words? Words without deeds are nothing to a Necillian. The ship we destroyed has left little evidence to suggest it was anything beyond a trick of the Republic.”

“You’re just suspicious by nature, aren’t you?” Rick blurted, but Greyhawk quickly bopped him on the head to quiet him.

“I have fought too many wars to not be cautious in trusting other nations,” Talhawk growled. “I have a responsibility to my people, including those who have been slain before and during this war.”

“Might I remind you,” Salar said, “that it was you who started this war, not the Republic.”

“Prisoners are not to speak during peace talks,” Talhawk snapped. “If a Jedi is to participate in these negotiations, the boy will be permitted, and he alone.”

“Me?” Targon asked.

“Yes,” Talhawk nodded. “At such a young age, I am certain you have not accumulated the skills of lying and deception that the Jedi Masters have achieved. Some of your words may yet bear truth and merit.”

“I think he just insulted the Jedi Order right there…” Rick whispered.

“Of course he did, now shush!” Gabrielle glared at him.

“Let us continue on…” Cordillian began.

There was a loud crash as a circular piece of the ceiling collapsed onto the table. Dust clouds enveloped the room as a dark figure leapt down.

A red blade appeared and cut down three Kordak guards and five Republic soldiers as they moved to take down the intrusion. Being unarmed, they could do nothing as the blade hummed straight through them.

The dust cleared with a massive wave that moved through the air, knocking nearly everyone to the ground.

Tauros stood upon the table, both hands clenched to his long handled saber. He turned towards Talhawk, who had maintained his seated position.

“Am I supposed to believe this is not a Jedi trick?” Talhawk roared indignantly.

“Jedi?” the intruder spat. “I am no feeble Jedi, fool. I am Darth Tauros of the Dark Covenant. My master sends his regards.”

With that, Tauros raised his saber to strike of the Kordak commander’s head.

There was less than a second…but Targon knew what he had to do. He raised his hand towards the vault, which opened immediately. His saber flew to his hand.

He ignited the green blade and leapt forward. He caught Tauros’ blade with his own.

“Brave of you boy,” Tauros snarled. “But it will avail you nothing.”

“You’ll have to kill me before you kill anyone else.”

“As you wish.”

Their blades twirled about in a blur, red against green. The sound of their crackling sabers echoed through the room as the whole audience sat confused and aghast. Neither of the combatants paid them any mind.

Tauros struck Targon on the side of his head with the handle of his saber, and then followed it up with a kick to the Jedi’s abdomen.

Targon landed on his back, but rolled out of the way as the Sith came down upon him. He then got to his feet.

But Tauros had turned to make another strike at Talhawk. Targon responded by knocking into the Sith Lord’s backside with his shoulder. The two of them tumbled to the ground.

People leaped back to get out of their way. They were up on their feet again, blades twirling and clashing. Tauros was taking a brutal offensive, continually gaining ground against his Jedi opponent.

Targon reached out with the Force and grabbed the chair he had been sitting in. He tossed it at the advancing Sith, who simply swatted it away with his own power.

Targon struck to the left and then made a feint to the right. Tauros saw right through it, however, and made a counterattack that nearly caught Targon’s arm. Instead it cut only through cloth.

The Sith Lord then cast off his cape and flung it over Targon’s face. The young Jedi Knight struggled to free himself from the cloak, but he was bowled over before he could see the Sith coming again.

He ripped the black cape off his face and stopped Tauros’ saber just as it was nearing his throat. Targon then kicked up with all his strength and knocked the Sith Lord back.

Now it was Targon’s turn to take the offensive. He kept a more cautious stance where he kept his arms close and was careful to leave as little of himself exposed as possible.

Tauros took no liking to being on the defensive. He sent a burst through the Force that sent Targon sprawling onto the table and rolling to the far side.

He then leapt up himself and unleashed an arc of lightning from his fingertips.

The young Jedi got to his feet and caught the energy with his saber. He could feel the pressure bearing down hard on him, trying to rip the lightsaber from his hands. Sweat was building up on his skin and starting to trickle down his neck and brow, soaking his robes.

Instead of being driven back, Targon took an agonizing and exhausting step forward. Then another and another. Blue flashes blinded him but he didn’t need his eyes to see the dark presence of his opponent.

Tauros was growling with strain as he kept the current of electricity streaming from him towards the Jedi. Yet now frustration was finding its way into his voice at the sight of the Jedi advancing.

Targon thought his saber’s handle would explode and his arms would break from the stress. Yet still he kept coming. He nearly lost his footing at a moment, and the lightning pushed him back a few paces. He started moving forward again. The pain was becoming less noticeable as he drew upon the Force to strengthen him.

Finally, Tauros stopped. The whole room seemed to darken as it was no longer lit up by the bright electricity. He brought up his saber again and burst into a terrible flurry of attacks.

Targon let himself go to the Force’s influence. It didn’t feel like he was telling his body to move – rather it all seemed mere reflex. His saber caught each of Tauros’ attacks and countered with a strike of his own.

Slash, apart, counter…slash, apart, counter…

Tauros made a slight slip and Targon bypassed his saber. The green blade dove right through his chest and emerged on the other side.

The Sith Lord gasped, but not as strongly as Targon did when he realized what he had just done. It had been as if someone else had done it, not him.

Targon withdrew the saber and deactivated it. He took a step back, yet was wary as to whether the fight was truly done.

Tauros was silent for a long moment, his saber hung limp in his hand. Then it dropped onto the table.

“Master…” Tauros said weakly. “I have…failed you…”

Then he fell forward. Targon was close enough that he would have knocked him over. Instead, Targon caught the dead man as he fell and laid him down softly.

Everything was ghastly silent for several minutes. No one moved, no one spoke, no one even coughed.

Targon checked his defeated opponent’s pulse, checking if there was still a chance he was alive. There was no sign of life.

Cordillian made a move to stand, but Talhawk was up before him.

“Never before have I seen such ferocity in a warrior,” he said as he regarded the Sith on the table. Then he looked up at Targon. “And never before have I seen such nobility in one.”

“I…” Targon wasn’t sure what he should say.

Talhawk held up a hand. “You fought to protect me, Jedi. You devoted to giving your life to defend mine. And still you gave your enemy a last gift of dignity in his death. Most honorable.” He paused. “What is your name?”

“Targon Karashi, sir,” the young Jedi bowed.

Talhawk moved towards him. Targon felt a rush of fear quake through his body…the sheer size of this man was frightening.

Then, the Supreme Commander of the Kordak League took Targon’s hand and shook it.

“An taro kala,” he nodded. “You have my thanks, Jedi, and I am in your debt.” He then turned to Admiral Cordillian. “From seeing a Jedi risk his life for mine, as I would for one of my kin, I shall declare this war ended. No more shall Kordak and Republic shed the blood of one another while I yet live.”

There was a loud cheer throughout the room.

Cordillian bowed. “You have my thanks, Talhawk.”

“Don’t thank me, thank Targon,” the commander said as he helped the Jedi down from the table. “Now,” he clapped his hands together. “Let us destroy this Dark Covenant – Kordak and Republic as brothers in arms!”

Targon smiled with the cheers that resounded. That is, until he saw the frowning face of Master Salar across the room.

Two weeks. Two weeks since the failure at Dies-Ira…and the death of the finest apprentice that Avaris had ever trained.

The rest of his fleets had scattered, the major lords taking their forces and hiding them so that they might continue the fight later, when the enemy was lured into complacency.

But it was only a matter of time. The plan was unraveling…because he had underestimated the resolve of certain Jedi and their ability to play to Talhawk’s notion of honor. Now the Kordak League and the Republic were united against him.

He breathed out slowly and relaxed upon his throne. There was no need to worry…they would never find him. His stronghold was hidden, and impenetrable. At least…it should be.

“This is no time for panic,” he sighed. “My power is greater than any of them – and the further they get towards me, the sooner they consign themselves to doom.”

“You think so, Sith?” a strange voice asked.

Avaris rose from his seat in a fury. Across the room, two men had walked in. Not just any men…Jedi.

“Bold,” the Sith Lord sneered. “But stupid.”

“Your Covenant is at an end,” one of the Jedi said. He was a Rodian, the other was a human.

“Indeed?” Avaris smiled. “The two of you, sad to say, are not enough to bring my order down.”

“Perhaps not,” the other Jedi smirked. “But we aren’t alone.”

For a moment, Avaris was confused – and then he felt it… Republic and Kordak ships were fast approaching.

“It was only a matter of time before we located your base of operations here on Ziost,” the Rodian stated. “The careless transmissions and trails left behind by your soldiers gave us the clues we needed.”

“I’m afraid your friends will be in for a surprise,” Avaris reached for his lightsaber. “And they’ll certainly find neither of you alive.”

“We shall see, Sith.”

Avaris activated his red blade and leaped from his throne. He spun in the air and landed in front of the intruders. They activated their blades, and the whole room glowed with red, blue, and yellow.

The Sith Lord wasted no time in assuming the offensive. He slashed at one, and then the other, and then the first again in quick succession. The Jedi tried to counter, but he leapt back and ducked down to avoid their strikes.

The Rodian attacked, lashing out with his blue blade and nearly caught Avaris’ left arm. Avaris responded by jerking back a little too quickly and looked like he would lose his balance.

That was all that the bug-eyed alien needed to strike. He came forward, but Avaris smiled and flipped into the air. His right foot planted itself in the Rodian’s face. The Jedi fell backwards and landed on his back as Avaris softly planted his landing.

Then he raised his hand and sent the Rodian hurtling into the other Jedi. The two of them clattered to the ground but were quick to get back on their feet.

The human came at him now, twirling his saber between his fingers. Avaris lunged forward and caught the Jedi’s blade with his own.

Avaris felt a rush coming, and he spun around quickly to catch the Rodian as he approached from behind, his saber high above his head ready to crash down on the Sith Lord.

With a single swipe, Avaris stopped the attack. The Rodian’s upper torso collapsed off of its legs and the two halves dropped to the ground.

The other Jedi cried out in anguish at the loss of his companion and then attacked swiftly. Avaris barely caught his blade before it reached him.

Their blades crackled and flashed as they struck against each other. The Jedi advanced and Avaris parried. The Jedi then raised his hand and hurled Avaris into the air. He had been caught surprised and he landed on his back.

Avaris quickly got up, taking a bit of time to fix the ruffles in his robes, and then saw the Jedi advance towards him.

He deactivated his saber and held up his pale hands, the thin fingers were slowly clenching together.

The Jedi raised into the air, dropping his saber. His hands were clutched at his throat as he made soft gurgling noises.

Avaris tightened his grip slowly and watched the life drain out of the Jedi’s eyes. Then he threw the slain enemy at the wall and left it lying there.

He climbed back up the steps to his throne. As he sat down and brushed himself off, a pair of holograms appeared before him. One was the hulking pureblood, Fyr, and the other was the golden armored Sinitar.

“My lord,” Fyr bowed. “We have felt a disturbance in the Force.”

“The Republic and Kordak are preparing an attack on Ziost,” Avaris nodded.

“Then we shall gather the fleet and prepare the defense,” Sinitar said.

“No,” Avaris held up a finger. “We must not gather our full strength in any one area. The Conclave cannot be lost.”

“But surely…” Fyr began.

Avaris cut him off. “It is hardly likely that the Republic will succeed. They do not yet comprehend who they are dealing with. But even in the remotest possibility of their triumph, they cannot be allowed to know how large the Covenant is.”

“Wise,” Sinitar nodded. “But should you be defeated…”

“I shall not,” Avaris shook his head. “The combined fleets and all their soldiers is no match for the power of the Dark Side…and the full potential of the Falcori crystals.”

“The Jedi defeated Tauros and the Black Nova,” Fyr pointed out.

“I am aware…but Tauros was not yet fully trained in the power I could show him. The Jedi and their friends do not have any idea what awaits them.”

“Then what shall we do, my lord?” Sinitar asked.

“Nothing,” Avaris replied. “Watch and wait. With the Republic unaware of your fleets’ strength, they shall be lured into complacency and weakness. When they flee before my power, you shall overtake them and this region shall be ours.”

“As you will, my lord,” the two Sith Lords bowed and cut transmission.

Avaris took a moment to sit back. “The fleet will be here soon,” he muttered to himself. “I’d best prepare their welcome.”

The cold and dark world of Ziost lay below them. It spread out like a graveyard amid the black of space.

“What a dismal place,” Targon observed.

“Fitting for a Sith,” Greyhawk stated.

Cordillian’s voice rang out across the bridge of the Sword of Truth. “Any detection of enemy ships?”

“No sir,” a lieutenant replied. “There are no other ships in this system.”

“That’s odd,” Cordillian rubbed his chin.

“Sir,” another officer stated. “The Gyrfalcon is hailing us.”

“Put them through,” the admiral nodded.

An image of Talhawk and Master Salar appeared. The Jedi Master had been offered to be the Necillian’s “guest” aboard his command ship. Everyone knew that it was Talhawk’s last insurance to be sure the Republic could still be trusted, and a show that he still held the power in this relationship.

“Admiral Cordillian,” the Supreme Commander began, “are you also not picking up any signs of enemy ships?”

“We are,” Cordillian nodded. “Perhaps they did not realize we were coming?”

“That is unlikely,” Salar stated. “The Covenant would be sure to gather their fleet around their capital world…”

Alarms suddenly blared.

“What’s happening?” Cordillian demanded to know.

“A massive surge of energy,” the lieutenant replied. “An energy shield has activated over a large area of the planet. It’s emanating from a giant citadel.”

“They know we’re here,” Trinn stated.

“It doesn’t look like bombardment is going to do us any good,” Cordillian stated.

Talhawk growled. “I had hoped we would be able to deal with this quickly, but it looks like we’ll have to fight on the ground and take out their command center from inside.”

“Any word from your Jedi scouts?” Cordillian asked Salar.

The Jedi Master frowned. “No…they might have been discovered.”

Outside the window, a Kordak Doom Ship suddenly exploded.

“What happened?” Talhawk shouted.

The answer came in half a dozen Imperial dreadnaughts suddenly appearing.

“Cloaked?!” Cordillian exclaimed.

“They must have utilized the Falcori crystals they stole and applied our Spectre technology to their warships,” Talhawk said, his voice clearly showing his anger. “Our scientists did not think it was possible to use for cloaking larger ships…”

“Well, these are Sith,” Targon shrugged.

“All ships,” Cordillian ordered, “engage the enemy fleet.”

“You can handle these,” Talhawk stated. “I’ll take my forces down and we’ll storm the citadel. Targon, you and your friends will follow us in to once we’ve broken through. I want you fighting with me and Master Salar.”

Targon didn’t know how to respond, and he turned to Admiral Cordillian. The admiral sighed and nodded. It was no use trying to dispute who was in command with Talhawk.

As the Republic cruisers engaged the defending fleet, scores of Spectres poured from the Doom Ships and headed down towards the planet. As they entered the atmosphere, heavy flak peppered the sky and ships.

Following a little ways behind, The Lone Eagle descended through the planet’s atmosphere.

“Here we go folks,” Rick sighed. “So much for an easy assignment, eh, Targon?”

Targon shook his head and focused his eyes towards the giant towers of the citadel that stood atop the jagged peaks of Ziost. He could feel the Dark Side emanating heavily from the castle.

And he could sense that the Covenant was prepared for them.

Despite being incredibly bloody and brutal, the Kordak advance into the entrance of the citadel was extremely quick. As Targon and his companions made their way from the ship, across the field, and up the causeway, the fighting had long since moved on.

Yet the signs of the battle were no less visible.

Bodies of Sith and Kordak soldiers, pieces of droids, rubble of damaged structures, and remains of broken vehicles littered the ground all about. The air was thick with smoke and dust.

They entered through the massive and abandoned doors of the citadel. Through the empty halls they heard the sounds of battle, yet they couldn’t tell if they were far or close.

After a short run through the halls, they found the source of the noise.

“It’s coming from behind this door,” Targon stated as he moved towards the entry. Suddenly, a Kordak soldier crashed through the door and landed with a loud thud on the floor a long ways away.

“What the…?” Greyhawk spat. “Are we finally in for a real fight?” There was eagerness to his voice.

They came into the large chamber. Scattered around were bodies…but also living soldiers shooting at a trio of giants.

“What are those?” Rick gaped.

Towering over the desperate attackers, three cloaked, monstrous persons swung giant axes down upon the scattering crowds. They were silent, and even in their strikes they made no sound.

Talhawk and Master Salar were focusing themselves on one giant. Salar darted between its legs, slashing at it as best he could, though he didn’t seem to cause much damage. The Kordak commander would wait for the thing to be distracted by the Jedi, and then he would hack at it with his chain and saber until it focused its attention on him.

The second of the lumbering sentinels noticed the pair that was irritating the first. Gripping its axe tightly, it swiped along the ground, catching both of the leaders’ legs in the process and hurtling them through the air and into the wall.

Targon activated his saber and charged forward. He leaped into the air and landed on the back of the nearest giant. He then stabbed down into the back of the creature’s neck.

Nothing happened. The giant did not die…nor did it even seem to notice what had happened. It simply reached back and grabbed the pest and flung it away.

Targon quickly recovered, landing on his feet. He came at it again, but this time he wasn’t alone.

Navor was rushing ahead, sabers twirling; Rick and Gabrielle had opened fire with a flurry of lasers. At first, the giant seemed confused at so many new attacks, but none of them seemed to be causing any serious damage.

The giant took a few steps towards the shooters, readying it axe to make another swipe. Targon leaped up and swung his saber down hard, expecting to cut straight through.

He didn’t. Instead, he hung there, his saber having only made its way a quarter through the giant’s huge arm.

The behemoth turned its head to face him. It then shook its arm violently to get him off. Targon held tight, though he felt his stomach rising to his throat.

An idea came to him while in the midst of this ride. Synchronizing himself with the motion of the giant’s arm, he rocked himself along his saber until spun in a loop around the appendage. The saber sliced through it slowly, but by the time he made it all the way around, he cut through it.

Then he and the amputated arm clattered to the ground.

He had only a mere second to look up before he saw the giant boot of the monstrosity descending down to crush him.

Targon rolled out of the way just as the foot crashed down. But then he felt the foot follow him and hurl him into the air with an effortless kick. He landed on his back and bounced once or twice. He could feel the world spinning.

Slowly, he started being able to register what was going on around him.

Navor busied himself on trying to hack through cloak and leg of one of the beasts. He was quick enough, however, to leap out of the way when the giant made a move at him, whether with axe or boot.

But he wasn’t fast enough to avoid the attack from the third giant behind him. The next thing he knew, he had crashed against the wall and everything was ringing.

Rick, Gabrielle, Kyja, and others had joined the Kordak soldiers in a game of running away from the giants, taking a moment to shoot, and then running again. They soon had the three creatures going in circles.

Someone was at Targon’s side. He looked up into the eyes of the old soldier.

“Greyhawk?” Targon struggled to find words with his head swimming still.

“I’ve got an idea,” the old soldier winked. “Can you get me on the back of that one?” He pointed to the one-armed giant Targon had attacked.

“What for?” Targon asked.

Greyhawk replied by holding up a grenade…no, an EMP charge.

“What good will that do?”

“You put a hole right through its spinal cord, didn’t you?” the old soldier asked in reply.

Targon nodded, still struggling to keep thoughts together.

“It didn’t do anything,” Greyhawk continued. “It’s not alive…it’s a droid.”

“What?” Targon started to rise.

“Just get me up on that thing’s back, I’ll plant the charge in the hole, and we’ll be done.”

“Why the hole?”

Greyhawk smiled. “This isn’t just any old EMP detonator I’ve got. It’s something I’ve been working on for a while.”

“Since when?” Targon asked.

“No time for that, let’s just get it done,” the old soldier helped the Jedi up.

Once he was stably on his feet, Targon breathed calmly and focused himself. He reached out and lifted the old soldier into the air. Carefully, he guided Greyhawk towards the unaware giant.

Upon getting there, Greyhawk tried to place the charge. The hole was too small, however. So he pulled out his knife and starting cutting into it.

He ducked his head from a flailing axe that the giant had reached back to knock him off. Then he kept slicing away at the thick armor and cloth of the droid.

Finally, the hole was good enough and he put it in. He pressed a button, and then he leapt down from the giant’s back and dove to the ground.

“You’re all going to want to cover your eyes!” he shouted.

Before anyone could realize what he meant, the charge went off in a bright white burst that blinded everyone.

When the light faded, the giant stood still. It seemed even a little slumped.

The other two paused, and then continued as if nothing had happened. They stopped when they noticed sparks coming out of the third giant.

The sparks grew greater in number and frequency until they had turned to giant arcs of electricity erupting from within the disabled machine. Everyone ducked and dove to get out of the way.

“Now’s a good time to use the Force again!” Greyhawk shouted to Targon.

Targon’s head had cleared, and he knew what the old soldier meant. He didn’t like it though…

Just then, the sparking giant erupted into a huge electric explosion. Targon reacted at once, reaching out with the Force to control the blast and lead it away from the people and into the other giants.

But he wasn’t strong enough. The shockwave slowed, but not by much. He could feel himself pour everything he had into the Force. But it wasn’t going to be enough…already he could feel the heat rushing towards him.

He felt something through the Force…something supporting him. He couldn’t take his focus off of the explosion to find out what it was…but he trusted his instincts.

The streaks of lightning changed course away from the fleeing soldiers and into the remaining giants. The thick armor couldn’t protect them from the heat and energy that pounded into them. They both shorted out and collapsed to the ground with a thunderous crash.

Finally, the room was silent.

Targon dropped to his knees, exhausted. He gazed about the room to look for the source of his assistance…

…and caught the eye of a barely conscious Master Salar.

Targon struggled to his feet and made his way over to the Jedi Master. He knelt down and supported the master’s head.

“Are you hurt badly, Master Salar?” Targon asked.

“Spare me your patronizing pity, Targon,” the Jedi Master groaned.

Despite his weariness, that was the last straw. “Master,” Targon frowned. “I don’t pretend to understand why you seem not to like me very much. I’ve only tried to do my best. Whether or not you like it, I am a Jedi Knight!” He paused and cooled down. “And I am grateful for your help.”

To Targon’s astonishment, Master Salar smiled. “Yes…you are a Jedi Knight, young Targon.” His voice was weak as his consciousness faded. “I…see that now. My only concern…was whether you were ready to be a Jedi…maybe I was wrong about you from the beginning…”

“Don’t talk like that!” Targon ordered. “This isn’t the end, not for you!”

“Are you forgetting your teachings already?” Salar sighed. “There is no death, Targon, there is the Force.”

Footsteps approached. “Yes, well, there won’t be any joining the Force for you today,” Talhawk’s voice stated. “I’ll have my men get you out of here and treated.”

“What about the Covenant?” Salar asked weakly.

“I will take care of them,” Talhawk replied simply.

“Not alone,” Targon looked up at the masked warrior. “I’m seeing this to the end!”

“For what purpose?” Master Salar inquired pointedly. “To impress Talhawk? To gain honor from the Republic? Or respect from me?”

Targon shook his head. “Because it’s my duty as a Jedi.”

Salar nodded. “Looks like my sternness with you has finally paid off.”

Talhawk barked, “Men, take Master Salar and the other injured out to the Spectres. Anyone still able to fight, follow me. It’s time to settle the score with the Covenant.”

Their footsteps echoed through the stone hall until it was absorbed by the immense black door before them. Strange images were carved into the door’s surface – images that reflected pain and agony, greed and gluttony.

As they approached, the door creaked open. They entered into the chamber.

All around, flames were lit in bowls standing atop stone pillars. Banners hung, bearing the symbol of a pair of baleful black eyes.

And in the center of the chamber was a tall throne.

The man sitting looked up at them with his empty white eyes and smiled.

“This is all that made it through?” he asked contemptuously. “A dozen brutish soldiers, their blind commander, a ragtag team of misfits, and a boy?”

“Drop the attitude, Sith,” Talhawk growled. “Your time on a throne is over. You’ll be spending the rest of your time in a tomb.”

The man’s smile grew wider. “Such bold and empty words…from a Necillian, no less. Where are the deeds you are always so fond of? Where is the strength that has become the tales of legend?”

“You’ve got a lot to say for someone who should be surrendering,” Navor said. “Off the chair, ‘my lord’, if you would be so kind.”

“I prefer to sit, if you don’t mind, Jedi,” the man countered.

“We don’t really care what you prefer,” Navor snarled.

The man rose. “You’ve made it this far, gentlemen, but this is the end of the road. If anyone is to spend eternity in a tomb, it is you all here.” He gestured to chamber. “I welcome you all to your final place of rest. I hope it suits you.”

“Shut up!” Talhawk roared. “Now you die for your crimes!”

At that, he leapt forward with both saber and whip in hand. He came crashing down on the throne, but the Sith Lord had already sailed into the air and flipped over him. He landed gracefully on the ground and withdrew his saber from his sleeve.

“So much for the courtesy of the Necillians,” the man grinned. “Gentlemen, I am Lord Avaris, and you all are dead where you stand.”

“Bold talk,” Targon drew his saber. “But of all the atrocities you committed, you haven’t done much to impress anyone.”

“Insolent child,” Avaris’ grin disappeared. “You have no idea what you’re dealing with.”

“We’re dealing with a Sith Lord, aren’t we?” Rick asked.

Targon smiled at that. “I’ve faced far worse than you, Avaris. I will stop you, just as I stopped them.”

“As the Necillians would say…” Avaris activated his crimson blade. “Prove your words!”

The Sith Lord flew at him, saber twirling. Targon met the blade with his own, and the crackling was deafening. They parted and crossed sabers again.

A crack from Talhawk’s whip parted them. The Kordak commander charged towards the Sith, and Targon advanced with him.

Avaris blocked their attacks with immense speed. He moved his blade from side to side so quickly there almost appeared a red wall between him and his opponents.

Talhawk grew steadily more aggressive, and his attacks grew far more difficult for the Sith to defend against. But in his aggression, he left himself more and more open. Before Targon could mention anything, Avaris had exploited it.

A burst of lightning erupted from his left hand and struck the Necillian in the side. The large man was thrown through the air to crash into a few of his own soldiers.

Talhawk got up immediately. “What are you doing, you harakhs? Shoot the blasted Sith!”

His men complied, and the others joined in too. A hail of lasers descended upon Avaris. He simply smiled and held up his hand. All the blaster bolts veered off in unnatural directions, zipping harmlessly away from him.

Then he turned his fingers down towards the attackers and clenched his fist. Everyone was thrown to the ground as if a giant fan had started up above them. Then with a flick of his wrist, he sent their weapons clattering away from them.

He turned his eyes towards Targon. “Their guns and leader can’t touch me, boy,” he smiled. “What makes you think that you can?”

Targon didn’t reply, but simply attacked. Their blades crashed against each other, flashing and sparking like strobe lights.

A sudden kick sent Targon reeling several steps backward. Avaris soon followed it up with another burst of lightning.

Targon caught it and held the assault off with his saber. This was different from Lord Tauros, however, in that its strength was greater and seemed to come from a different source than within the Sith Lord.

He could feel his feet starting to slide along the cold stone floor as the lightning steadily pushed him back. He tried to take steps forward, but found he was unable to muster the strength to do so.

“You killed my apprentice, boy,” Avaris’ voice said over the crackling of the electricity. “Now I return the favor.”

Targon clenched his jaw and tried again to push back. Still he couldn’t, and he was coming dangerously close to one of the flames on the columns. Were he to lose his strength now, he would be flung directly onto the fire…and that would be the end of that.

“Did you really think you had any sort of chance, boy?” Avaris scoffed. “The victor of this fight was determined long before you even drew your sword.”

“Only fools presume victory before the fight begins!” Talhawk’s voice boomed.

Targon thankfully felt the lightning storm end.

Talhawk had bull rushed the Sith while his focus was on the Jedi. The sheer size of him had dropped the much smaller and lighter man instantly and with ease.

Avaris slid along the floor for a distance, but he rose quickly. Talhawk was pursuing, his saber and whip ready to strike. The Sith Lord smiled and rose into the air, sending a massive burst through the Force that sent Talhawk sprawling.

He remained floating in the air, his fists tight and his eyes nearly glowing with heated intensity.

“Wretched fools, the lot of you!” Avaris snarled. “I am beyond any feeble soldier or Jedi’s capabilities.”

“The Dark Side blinds you!” Targon countered. “Your overconfidence is your weakness.”

“Your ignorance is yours,” Avaris spat. “You cannot defeat me while I draw infinite power from the Falcori crystals!”

The flames in each bowl suddenly died, and in their place, a glowing crystal rose into the air. Energy pulsed and channeled visibly between them, and focused into Avaris.

“Can’t even find your own power?” Talhawk growled. “Are you so feeble that you must steal it from others…even when you don’t fully understand it?”

“Silence, worm!” Avaris roared. “Lord Toxeti challenged the Empire with a fraction of a full crystal’s capabilities, and you Kordak create warships with power diluted from them…but I have tapped into the full potential of them all! You cannot imagine the power, the invincibility!”

“You are a bigger fool than any I have ever met,” Talhawk shook his head.

Avaris roared and sent a massive burst of energy from his fingertips. The aura of the crystals intensified and fed faster into him.

Talhawk was thrown to the ground. The full shock of his landing cracked the stone floor. The Kordak commander didn’t cry out, didn’t shout in pain or despair…

…He was laughing.

Confusion and shock appeared on Avaris’ face as he let up on his attack. Talhawk rose, stumbled a bit, and then stood up straight.

“How is that possible? You are not immune to the power of the crystals…no one is!”

“You’re right,” Talhawk nodded, and then his strength gave out on him. He cringed and nearly toppled over, but one of his men came to steady him.

“How then do you dare find the gall to laugh at me?!” Avaris bellowed as more and more energy poured into him. Slowly, he rose higher and higher into the air, and his eyes were brightening.

Talhawk chuckled again. “Stupid, lazy fool! The power of the Falcori crystals is too great for even us Necillians to fully tamper with. Centuries ago we tried to harvest the full potential…and nearly destroyed the entire planet of Mytos.”

“What are you talking about?” Avaris snarled.

“If you had been more careful, you would have found that the Kordak League has never used more power than it has needed. The crystals are sacred to us…and we know of the danger within them. You, however, were to blind to the power to see how it will destroy you even now.”

“Pathetic wretch!” Avaris nearly screamed. “I will show you the true extent of power!”

The crystals seemed to blaze and spin so fast they became bright as stars. The energy they produced flowed into Avaris as hot and intense as lightning bolts. The air itself seemed to grow hot and thin, and it swirled around the Sith Lord.

Targon heard a sound and looked up. The ceiling was cracking in several places. The web of crevices was growing quickly until it covered the whole ceiling and started working its way down the walls.

“The citadel is collapsing!” Targon shouted.

Talhawk stood straight again and stated sternly, “He has destroyed himself.”

Avaris’ snarl was growing more animal-like by the second. His hands were reaching forth, preparing to unleash a deadly storm at them…

…When suddenly his countenance changed to confusion, surprise, and the alarm.

“What? What’s happening?!” he shrieked.

“Come on, everyone,” Talhawk shouted. “It’s time for us to leave!”

There were no complaints. Pieces of the crumbling ceiling had already alerted them to the situation, and they were more than happy to follow the commander’s suggestion.

The whole citadel was shaking as they ran through the halls. Columns trembled and collapsed, statues cracked and broke, and the roof itself was caving in. One man was crushed by a large piece of rubble that fell from high above.

They were nearing the entrance…but everything was falling apart too fast.

Targon could hear Avaris’ screams resound through the castle, and he shuddered. Nobody else gave any sign that they had noticed it.

They were out onto the causeway, but the bridge was quaking and it was apparent it wouldn’t stand much longer.

“Where do we go from here?” Rick asked pointlessly. “Unless some of you guys know how to fly…”

They heard loud droning overhead. Looking up, they saw Spectres descending. Master Salar was leaning out the opening of the closest one and was calling to them.

Everyone gave a cheer as the gunships lowered close enough for them to get aboard.

“Never thought I’d ever be so happy to see one of these,” Trinn sighed, relieved.

The Spectres were barely away before the entire citadel imploded on itself. Following the collapse, a giant burst of Dark Side energy flashed across the jagged peaks.

They were off-world soon enough, and heading towards the allied fleet. Admiral Cordillian’s voice came happily over the comm.

“The day is ours,” he announced. “The Covenant’s fleet has been put to rout, and from what our sensors could detect, it looks like you took off the head of the snake.”

“That we did,” Talhawk nodded. “But this is trouble’s not over yet. Wherever those accursed Covenant survivors run, I will be sure to hunt them down like the beasts they are.”

“We’ll be more than happy to aid in mopping up,” Cordillian said.

“Only fitting,” Trinn shrugged. The Lt. Colonel noticed Targon and walked over to him.

Targon regarded him respectfully and nodded.

“I can’t say I’ve ever seen a Jedi as young as you pull off so much,” Trinn said kindly.

“I wouldn’t say I’ve done as well as I should have,” Targon said quietly.

“I…” Trinn hesitated. “I’m sorry…for what I commanded you to do.”

Targon looked up at him. He felt anger rise…but he forced it down. “It…it was the right decision…I suppose.”

“There are not good or easy decisions in war,” Trinn sat down next to him. “And when we’re in the middle of it, we can’t let things get in the way of saving lives.”

“Saving lives in war?”

“A paradox, I know…but nonetheless true. I watched my father die during the Sacking of Coruscant. As much as I despaired, I had to make the choice to take up command and save my battalion.”

Targon said nothing for a while. “I understand the decision to leave the Jedi to stop the war…” He took a deep breath. “I forgive you, Aric Trinn.”

The soldier smiled. “That’s all any man can ask for in war.”

He patted him on the back.

“I hope we meet again,” Targon bowed.

“We may yet. There will be plenty more wars to fight.”

Targon was tossing in his bunk, turning from one side to the other and taking the sheets along with him. Once or twice he groaned something inaudible.

He was walking in an empty white field. The blankness spread on for as far as he could see, and the light was blinding.

“Hello?” he called out. His voice echoed and disappeared in the void.

He kept walking, unsure of which way he was supposed to go. He couldn’t even tell if he was going straight or walking around in circles.

“Is anyone out here?” he called out again. “Anyone?”

There was no reply.

Inexplicably, he tripped over something and fell to the ground. The fall seemed to take much longer than it should have. Finally, though, he hit the hard ground.

He was starting to get up, but suddenly his strength failed in his arms and he collapsed down again. Before he could try once more, he looked up and saw a hand reaching out towards him.

Without hesitation, he took it and was helped back up to his feet. For a moment he couldn’t believe who was standing in front of him.

“Master?” Targon gasped.

“Hello, Targon,” Master Tieru smiled. “I was wondering when you’d find your way here.”

“Where are we?” Targon asked.

The old Jedi Master replied, “This is the physical manifestation of the link that I maintained with my fellow masters when we swore to protect the secret of immortality.”

“Where you communicated with Eseri and the others?”

Tieru nodded.

“Then…what am I doing here?” Targon asked.

His master shrugged. “I’m not sure, but I knew you’d show up some time.”

“What?”

Tieru sighed. “Targon, sometimes there are mysteries in the Force that cannot be explained.”

“I understand that, Master, but…why am I here? Why are you here?”

“What? Because I’m dead I can’t talk to my old padawan?” Tieru smiled.

“No, no, that’s not what I…” Targon sighed. “It’s good to see you again, Master.”

“Likewise,” Tieru nodded. “Though, truthfully, I’ve never really left you.”

“Yes…I suppose that’s true…”

Tieru laughed. “No need for us to get into more teachings, Targon. There are more important things at hand.”

“What things?”

The Arkanian leaned heavily on his staff. “You’ve done well in your duties as a Jedi so far, Targon…but there is much more on your road to come. I’ve come to you now to warn you.”

“Warn me of what, Master?”

“The power of the Dark Side is growing. Already many of its aspects have found you.”

“Yes…The Empire, the Covenant, the Sorceress…”

“Hear me now!” Tieru suddenly sounded stern. Or was he concerned? “An embodiment of the Dark Side has found place in the universe once again. It was stopped before, but it has grown stronger.”

“What is it, Master?”

“The Hand of Death stalks the galaxy once more, Targon. You must stop it.”

“What? How?”

Tieru suddenly started to fade away. “My time here is ending, Targon. Cast aside the mask and find the face of darkness…”

The Jedi Master vanished, and Targon was left alone again.

But now the landscape was changing…

No longer was he in an empty field. Now he was standing amid a large fortress. Alarms were wailing, and soldiers were rushing to load objects onto awaiting ships. High in the sky, shadows of three large cruisers descended.

A man was shouting orders. He was dressed in red robes, and he bore several earrings and other piercings on his body. His eyes were yellow from the taint of the Dark Side. Targon knew it was a Sith.

“Get everything loaded up now!” the man shouted. “The Kordak League is here! They’ve found us, you fools! We need to get out of here now!”

“Lord Imperus!” a soldier approached him. “There isn’t enough time to get all the equipment loaded. If we are to escape, we must do so now.”

“And leave our weapons and supplies behind?!” the Sith was barely holding back panic. “These are some of the last resources of the Covenant! If we lose them, our order is that much closer to falling apart.”

“My lord!” another soldier approached. “A ship is approaching, and it’s not Kordak.”

The Sith looked up at the sky and saw a small craft descending from the opposite horizon than the Kordak fleet. He smiled as he said, “Ah, so the Covenant decided to send aid after all.”

The ship landed and the ramp lowered. A dark figure, clad in a tattered black cloak lined with sickly green descended and approached Imperus.

“Did you bring your fleet?” the Sith asked.

The hooded figure neither moved nor spoke.

“Then what are you doing here? What good are you?” the Sith trembled, and his earrings rattled from his quaking.

“I have come to take control of the situation,” the figure said after a long while. Its voice was soft and sighing, yet full of malice.

“A little presumptuous, don’t you think?” Imperus scowled. “You forget that I am higher on the Conclave than you.”

To that, the stranger said nothing, but instead raised his arm. From the long black sleeve emerged a skeletal hand.

Imperus drew his saber. “After I cut you down, I’ll take your forces and add them to my own.”

“No,” the figure sighed. “You are dead.”

The Sith suddenly rose into the air and screamed. Targon gasped as the man was slowly ripped apart until…

…Until his flesh evaporated and his bones crumbled into dust.

Then the figure gave a sickening sigh as he fed on the ripples of the Dark Side. Targon could feel them, and they churned his stomach.

Imperus’ soldiers pointed their guns at the stranger, but they suddenly collapsed to the ground. Targon could feel the life stripped from them. But then, only a few minutes later, they rose up and fell in behind the hooded figure. Their skin was gray and cracked, and their eyes were black and empty.

The figure raised his bony hands towards the sky and pulled the Doom Ships down to the surface.

Targon wanted to grab his lightsaber and fight…but then he suddenly wanted to flee. He could do neither, and instead he simply stood and watched.

Then the figure turned its head towards Targon. Beneath the black abyss of the hood’s shadow, Targon could see a skull…with eyes that shone green, bright and ghostly.

It was then that Targon screamed as the fear came rushing through him.

He found himself back in his bunk, his whole body drenched in sweat. His sheets had been cast aside…and the whole crew stood over him.

“You alright?” Rick asked. “You woke up the whole ship.”

Targon took a while to get his breathing back to normal. “A nightmare…” he said simply.

“Your screaming suggested it was no simple nightmare,” Greyhawk frowned.

Navor’s face was grim. “A vision of the Force?”

“I…I don’t know…” Targon shook his head.

“You want something to drink?” Rick asked.

“No,” Targon stood. “No…I need to get back to Republic Command in Wild Space.”

“What?” Rick gaped. “We just left Wild Space! We’re going to Tython to let you give a report to the Jedi Council.”

“We have to go back,” Targon stated boldly. “I’ll send a message to the Council…but we need to turn around.”

The crew glanced at each other and then back to Targon.

“What is going on?” Gabrielle asked. “What’s so important?”

Targon thought for a moment. “Death,” he said at last. “Death stalks the galaxy again.”

The circular room was barely lit by a single red crystal floating in the center of the table. Around the table, eight chairs had been prepared, spaced evenly apart. Eight seats for the eight members of the Conclave.

Yet there were only seven to occupy the chairs.

The first man entered, dressed in regal red robes and grey armor that appeared almost blue. He was old, with a white beard covering some of his wrinkly face.

From another door, a hulking Sith pureblood lumbered in. The animal scowl on his face was feral and cruel. He was clad in thick black armor, with nothing ornate or artistic about him. He sat in his chair at once, while the older man stood next to his own seat waiting…

Two men came in then, one wearing bright golden armor and the other wearing dull, rusty red. The gilded man wore his long hair in a tight braid that flowed behind his golden helm. His companion wore the black hair in a mess, some of the shag hanging down in front of his pale face.

They entered, regarded the others, and sat next to each other.

No one else arrived for a while. The Pureblood expressed his frustration by tapping his claws against the stark surface of the table.

“Kindly cease that noise,” the old man commanded.

The Pureblood growled. “You don’t get to order people around, Marz. None of the Conclave is above one another.”

“You’re a fool if you really believe that, Lord Fyr,” the golden armored man smirked. “There is always a hierarchy, even when it is not overtly recognized. For now, Lord Marz is the head of the Conclave.”

The old man smiled triumphantly. “I thank you for your support, Lord Sinitar.”

Snorting, the Pureblood stopped his tapping. “One would think, then, that the other members of the Conclave would respect their betters and arrive on time.”

“The only thing that makes you ‘better’,” the man with the messy black hair said, “is the simple fact that you’ve been on the Conclave longer. Perhaps, if it came down to the way of true Sith, we might determine the strongest of us through strength.”

Fyr snarled. “Don’t take that tone with me, pup. You may be on this Conclave, Lord Sorgal, but you’re still a young brat that has yet to know true strength.”

“You forget yourself,” Sinitar leaned forward. “Sorgal was once my apprentice, and he knows all that I do. Do you suppose to think I know nothing of power as well? I was, after all, the first to pledge loyalty to Lord Avaris.”

“We are all aware of your exploits,” a voice interrupted. Walking in was a Shistavenan with gnarled and ratty hair. “Just because you were the first does not make you the greatest.”

“Lord Krass,” Marz nodded. “How good of you not to be too late. Now there are only two more to arrive.”

“The least liked two,” Krass gave a fanged grin as he took his seat. “Who chose to put those two on the Conclave anyway?”

“Their ability qualified them,” Sinitar stated. “Just as it qualified Sorgal.”

“Yes,” Fyr growled. “When Lord Avaris dies and takes his power with him, we have to turn to three pathetic men to replace him and Tauros.”

Sorgal started to rise, but Sinitar placed his hand on his shoulder and pushed him back into his chair.

“Do not forget, child,” Fyr spat, “the crystal prevents any of us to raise a hand against one another while in council.”

“He does not forget,” Sinitar stated. “But perhaps you should remind yourself before lecturing Sorgal.”

“Does the pup still need your protection?” Fyr barked. Krass laughed with him, and Marz could not hide a smile.

Sorgal’s face was quickly becoming a nasty scowl, but Sinitar held him firm.

“Let the anger ferment,” Sinitar whispered to his former apprentice. “Save it for a better time, when it will be much more satisfying.”

Sorgal maintained his glare for a moment longer, and then he withdrew and relaxed into his chair.

A door opened.

“I’m so sorry I’m late, gentlemen,” a pleasant and calm voice announced. All turned to face the man walking in. From head to toe, the man was concealed in a suit of green armor. Expensive and ornate armor, no less. Everything had been carefully crafted to appear like dragon scales.

“Ah, Lord Draco,” Marz forced a pleasant tone and smile. “I suppose it is better to arrive late than not at all.”

“Of course,” the newcomer bowed. Even the man’s face was hidden beneath a helmet shaped like a dragon’s head, the visor being the space between the open jaws.

“Now we just have to wait for one more,” Krass grumbled.

“Not at all,” Draco took his seat. “He’s already here.” He pointed across the table and the rest of the Conclave followed his finger.

Sitting silently next to the empty chair, a dark shape laced its bony fingers.

“Lord Kronos…” Fyr growled. “I…didn’t hear you come in.”

“None of you did,” the spectral figure answered with a ghostly voice. “You were all too blinded by your petty arguments.”

Marz finally sat down. “It’s nice you decided to attend this meeting, Kronos. We have not had the grace of your presence for some time.”

“I’ve been far too busy with other matters,” the black figure replied. “But the nature of this meeting calls for all our attendance.”

“Yes,” Marz nodded. “We are gathered here, the fifth meeting of the Conclave of the Dark Covenant after the death of Lord Avaris, to address the fall of one of our senior members – Lord Imperus.”

“You know,” Krass shook his head, flinging lice out of his fur, “I always figured he would be the first to be found.”

“He wasn’t very subtle, true,” Marz nodded. “But he held a great deal of our resources and manpower. With his fall to the Kordak, our enemies are one step closer to bringing us to ruin.”

“Perhaps he shouldn’t have been trusted with so much,” Sorgal stated.

“What should have been doesn’t matter now,” Fyr glared at the young Sith Lord. “Now we’ve got to decide what to do about it.” He turned to Marz. “Do we know if there was any information that the Kordak found that could be damning to the rest of us?”

“Fortunately, no,” Marz replied. “The task force that assaulted his base was also destroyed.”

“Indeed?” Draco leaned forward with interest. “So Lord Imperus didn’t go down without a fight?”

“That would be the apparent case,” Krass growled. “Thank you for just noticing the obvious, Lord Draco.”

The green armored man did not react to the insult. Instead, he leaned back in his chair and rested his hands behind his head. “So then,” he began, “who shall we choose to replace our dear Imperus?”

“That is what we are here to decide,” Fyr stood up violently. “Could you have possibly gotten more stupid since the last meeting?”

“No, I’ve just been so bored without your entertaining reactions,” Draco shrugged and composed himself more professionally. “I’ve always gotten a kick out of your temper.”

“You are one of the newest on this council,” Marz said coldly. “As such, you should show more respect to Lord Fyr.”

“Whatever you say,” Draco shrugged again.

The old man shook his head and rubbed his temple. “Now then, to decide on a new member for the Conclave, I shall open the meeting up for nominations.”

It was quiet for a while.

Finally, Krass spoke up. “My apprentice has grown strong. He would be an excellent candidate.”

“You mean that creepy Quarren?” Sinitar shook his head. “That one is too wild and undisciplined.”

“I don’t think you can talk,” Krass countered. “Your own apprentice sits next to you, and he is more violent and headstrong than mine.”

“Yes, but I am on the Conclave nonetheless,” Sorgal countered. “Your man is not.”

“The situation can quickly change,” the wolf man snarled.

“Any other names?” Marz asked, trying to regain control.

“Well, there’s my apprentice,” Draco suggested.

“The little girl?” Fyr laughed. “Maybe I would consider seconding that notion if you weren’t so selfish and decided to share that little tart with the rest of us.”

“Sith do not share,” Draco folded his arms.

“Women are weak,” Krass spat. “Yours is no exception.”

“Were you to fight her,” Draco countered, “you might not think that way.”

“A woman would be a distraction,” Marz held up his hand. “Other nominations?”

Draco sat back dejectedly as Sinitar leaned forward.

“Lord Toxeti had an apprentice before his rebellion against the Dark Council. Perhaps we might recruit him?”

“I think not!” Marz said suddenly. “Are you such a fool to suggest we look into the Empire? Have you already forgotten how the Empire condemned our order as a terrorist group when the Republic inquired about our actions in Wild Space? To even try to enter the Empire would have every agent and Sith Lord hunting us.”

“Well then, what do you have in mind?” Sorgal asked.

Marz took a moment, and then he spoke. “My apprentice, Lord Korr, would be an excellent candidate.”

“Ho now!” Draco leaned forward. “We’ve just been debating the apprentices of each of us, and here you are nominating your own!”

“None of your apprentices knew Lord Avaris, none of them learned under his great guidance.”

“Guidance that led him to destroy himself,” Sorgal muttered under his breath.

“Korr has been imbued with the power of the Falcori crystals – anointed by Avaris himself. To replace Lord Imperus, he shall be the most ideal choice. Any objections?”

Sorgal was about to speak, but Sinitar grabbed him and gave him a look that silenced his tongue. Draco leaned back, his annoyance more than apparent despite the lack of emotional visibility. Fyr and Krass said nothing…and the last member had never said anything in the debate the entire time.

“Then if there are no objections,” Marz smiled triumphantly, “I shall expect to see you all at my stronghold on Shadda-bi-Boran with the other acolytes of the Covenant to observe Lord Korr’s coronation.”

The Conclave member bowed their heads and stood. They then all separated and walked out of the chamber.

Once alone, Sorgal grabbed Sinitar’s shoulder.

“Do you really support Lord Marz’s decision?” he asked harshly.

“Of course not,” Sinitar shook his head.

“Then why didn’t you object? And why did you stop me from objecting?”

Sinitar sighed. “I wanted to talk to you about this after the meeting… Come with me…”

He followed Sinitar down the hall and into an empty chamber of the ruins.

“Why here?” Sorgal inquired when they stopped.

“The ruins of Ziost cannot be trusted with secrets, my friend,” Sinitar stated. “This may be safe and neutral ground with the other members of the Conclave, but it would be best they did not hear this.”

“What is it?”

Sinitar lowered his voice to less than a whisper. “One of the Conclave is hunting us.”

“What? How can you know?”

“Search your feelings, Sorgal, you know it is true. Most of the others may be fools and subservient followers of Avaris, but Kronos is not.”

“He is…odd…but a traitor?”

“Worse than that. I have studied him, followed him, and watched his movements as best I can. He wants to destroy the Covenant and usurp our power. Then he will turn his sights on the Empire and the Republic.”

“Who is he? Who does he serve?”

“He serves no one,” Sinitar frowned. “He is out for himself…and if we don’t stop him, he will destroy us all.”

Sorgal nodded. “What are you planning to do?”

“I have little doubt that Kronos will take the opportunity to kill the entire conclave at Marz’s estate. It is the perfect chance for him…and for us. We will destroy him there, and cleanse the Covenant of those unworthy to be part of us.”

Footsteps came nearby and they grew quiet, even holding their breath. Draco passed by, conversing with someone…a woman. Not just any woman, his apprentice – a Falleen. She was incredibly attractive, and Sorgal felt himself grow hard when he looked at her for the brief moment he could see her. Then they passed and Sinitar grabbed hold of him harshly.

“Trust no one,” Sinitar instructed. “And don’t let yourself be distracted. If we don’t stop Kronos, he will kill everyone in the galaxy!”