"Savax, Part 1: Confrontation"
By: Girra Xel-Xux Zillar, PC (Smuggler, Bounty Hunter)

Location: Thanatos
Date: Lythe 25, 4ABY

***

A shadowy figure was crouched atop the roof of a three storey building. Weather worn textiles draped from ropes, and chords gently swayed with the breeze of the night. The figure stole a look down across the dark alley. Just inside another alleyway, shrouded in darkness, four tiny red eyes gleamed from the reflection of what little natural light filtered down from the full moon. The eyes belonged to a hulking T'surr, a marble-blue skinned species known for its raw strength and predatory fierceness. Inching his way towards the T'surr's position was another figure, a Rodian. The Rodian was using the shadows as cover as he stalked his prey, the T'surr.

From atop her perch, Girra could see all through the night vision lenses equipped in the helmet of her Ubese armor. Girra was the shadowy figure atop the building. Disguised as Savax, Girra was on the hunt this night as a bounty hunter.

Girra had set out earlier, having tracked down the T'surr as she had been contracted. She was not alone however. She had been made aware that several other bounties were out on this T'surr. So far it had only been her and the Rodian, who she had recognized as the bounty hunter Ne'Chak. Ne'Chak she knew was a fair bounty hunter, not the brightest, but he faired alright. What the Rodian lacked in skilled he made up for through a combination of dumb luck and thievery. Ne'Chak was well known to shadow other bounty hunters and steal the bounty for himself; not very honorable to say the least, which had earned the Rodian great distaste among his fellow bounty hunter brethren, as well as those of his own race who took to bounty hunting and were well known in that profession as skilled hunter/trackers.

Ne'Chak was a scoundrel of a bounty hunter for certain, but he was still a predator to be wary of. Ne'Chak was just as known for his callous malice, as he was for his lack of respect and honor among the bounty hunter community. Girra for one thought very little of the man, and she was fairly pissed at his current meddling in her affairs. She knew he had been shadowing her, and she had been trying her best to throw him off while keeping track of the T'surr. She could now see that the T'surr in fact new of the Rodian tracking him, but as to the T'surr knowing of Girra was something she had yet to find out.

Girra watched from her position, deciding to play at the Rodian's own game, and let him have the first confrontation with their mutual mark. Then she would deal with Ne'Chak and do the galaxy a good service. She was surprised that the Rodian had not met his demise thus far, but that would soon change if she had anything to do with it.

Ne'Chak, the Rodian, crept closer to the corner where the T'surr was hidden in the shadows. Ne'Chak was carrying an Imperial issue side arm in one hand, a Rodian Long Rifle was strapped to his back, and in his other hand he held a Rodian Cryogen Whip. Girra had heard of those whips, they were quite simple yet very effective. The coiled whip had an outer coating of flexible metal plates. The core of the whip circulated super-cooled chemicals that chilled the outer plates. As the tip of the lash struck a creature or person, the extreme cold of the metal plates caused a near-explosive chemical reaction that generated a stunningly cold blast and a loud crack. Girra thought it may work against a T'surr, whose blue skin was thick and protective, acting as natural armor against kinetic force. However, the T'surr were known for their rages, and this particular T'surr was also under the influence of a great deal of spice. The stunning effect of the whip might not initially down the T'surr.

Girra watched as the Rodian crept ever closer to the awaiting T'surr. He clearly did not know the T'surr was around the corner, though he was proceeding with caution. She thought the Rodian was probably more concerned with Savax's where-abouts. She formulated the probable scenario in her mind and decided on her options in respect. Though she was not an immediate player in the confrontation-to-be, she knew the wisdom at having a plan of action for what may very well unfold. Having control over the situations of others was to her advantage.

The Rodian's back was to the wall as he crept up to the corner. Girra could see the T'surr backing up from the corner and taking his battle stance. The T'surr had superior hearing and night vision, allowing him to see twice as better in the dark and lesser lit places than the average vision capabilities of most beings. As the Rodian started to turn around the corner into the alley, gun hand first, the T'surr lashed out with a huge clawed hand. Taking the Rodian by surprise, the T'surr lunged forward; picking the Rodian up into the air, effectively turning the Rodian's weapon away, his tiny body in comparison to the hulking T'surr was forced back behind the T'surr. Girra watched as the Rodian made an attempt to bring his whip to bear, but the stealth and raw strength of the T'surr made it impossible. He flung the Rodian around from behind him and threw the Rodian down hard on the ground before him.

NOW!! Girra commanded to herself, and she leapt from the building, grasping her stun baton in one hand, and one of the many chords that criss-crossed from building to building, and over the alley below.

At their current stance and angle from her position, Girra flew down from the roof to head for the T'surr's backside. She swooped down, shifting her weight feet first toward the ground between the T'surr's legs. Girra gracefully slid underneath the T'surr as she struck out with her stun baton. The baton was only 0.5 meters in length, with an oval nodule at its end that, upon contact, would release a stunning jolt of energy. Girra had modified that baton into a collapsible melee weapon, like a staff. Striking out with the button, she released the collapsed length to its full measure of 1.5 meters.

As she slid forward from under the T'surr's legs, she tripped the brute from behind his knees. The force of her landing-slide having flipped the T'surr back and off balance as the baton-staff made contact with his knees. The attack also slowed her sliding motion; twisting with what was left of her momentum, Girra was then on her knees. Her back was to the Rodian, but she followed through with her twist, bringing her staff to bear upon the Rodian as she turned to face him.

The Rodian was just scrambling to his feet from the throw the T'surr had dealt him when Girra attacked. From her posture on her knees she swung the staff up under the Rodian's chin. The baton's stun nodule smacked his chin with considerable force and released its energy. Ne'Chak was flung up and back with the force of the blow, his face illuminated by the stunning energy that crackled, drowning the sound of his shattering chin. With the momentum of her strike, Girra spun around on her knees and jumped up onto her feet to face the T'surr behind her.

The T'surr had been caught off guard, and was slightly disoriented from the attack. His reaction was further slowed by the spice still coursing through his system. He lunged forward from lying on his back, his clawed feet digging into the ground and aiding in propelling him toward his attacker. Girra was already on her feet, swinging around again with her staff to bring the stun nodule to bear. She swung around with the staff, smacking the T'surr's big horned head squarely below the jaw. The nodule hit with all Girra's force and the momentum of her swing. The crackle of energy washed over the side of his head as he was knocked slightly away from Girra, and back to the ground. The T'surr was incapacitated by the blow and stunning energy. He laid still on the ground next to the unconscious Rodian.

Girra stood a little more than arms length from the two downed men, victorious over her foes. That was the last thing she saw as she herself was rendered unconscious. From behind her a cloaked figured struck out, dealing a blow to the back of her neck and head where the two met. She felt no pain. One second she had been looking over the Rodian and the T'surr, the next was nothing but the darkness of unconsciousness.

Standing over the three prone figures was an Elomin. The man wore a black cloaked robe that swayed with the gentle breeze. He kicked Girra's leg, but there was no reaction. He brushed back the hood to reveal his crimson face and horned bald head. From the alley that the T'surr had initially struck the Rodian from, a barely dressed Twi'lek woman approached from the shadow.

"Well done, Laerron!" she complimented to the Elomin. She pointed to the Ubese clad Girra on the ground. "He didn't even see you coming!"

Laerron looked to the Twi'lek woman. She was about his height of 1.8 meters tall. Her pink skin was tattooed with black markings, as were her lekku. She wore little more than what appeared to be a black leather bra and g-string, both connected to each other from her backside, showing off her shoulders, abdomen, and her long legs. Her lekku were adorned with straps of the same material, as were her bare ankled feet and her arms form the wrist to elbow.

"Most do not, Jalahana," he answered with a growl.

Jalahana, the Twi'lek, clapped her hands twice. "Nikto! Kharee!" she commanded into the darkness. Six Nikto came forward from opposite ends of the alley, in a pair of three. The Nikto were common thugs in areas such as Thanatos, and across the Outer Rim. Two had went for the Rodian, two for Girra, and the other two labored after the T'surr. Jalahana and Laerron exited back into the shadows and down a dark passage, the Nikto followed behind with the limp bodies of Girra, Ne'Chak and the T'surr.

---

"Savax, Part 2: Crude Awakening"
By: Girra Xel-Xux Zillar, PC (Smuggler & Bounty Hunter)
Laerron, NPC (Assassin)

Location: Somewhere within the Yandrosa District, New Plouton
Date: Lythe 25, 4ABY

***

Girra awoke from blackness into great pain. She crawled up onto her knees from lying on her stomach. Nausea forced her back down as she clasped the back of her head and neck, groaning in pain. She forced herself back up to her knees, and plopped back onto her rear. The room she was in was completely dark. The pain and nausea threatened to render her back to unconsciousness. Girra sat still, fighting the nausea and disorientation.

What the fuck?! she thought to herself, in wonder as to her current situation. The last thing she remembered was her brief confrontation with the Rodian Ne'Chak, and her contracted bounty on the T'surr. Then there was nothing, until now. I wonder how long I have been out, and just where the hell am I?! she thought, as she rubbed what she could of the pain away. She sat there for a few moments before attempting to move. The pain was manageable and the nausea subsided. She felt out with her hands to find a wall near her sitting position. She didn't dare try to stand, not yet anyway. She crawled along the wall until she felt a corner and followed it, hoping to find a door way, to find a way out of the darkness. Suddenly it became blindingly bright, from blinding darkness.

"Uuugh!" Girra cried out as she banged her head against the wall, shocked from the sudden brightness. She held one hand to her eyes, while the other was stretched out in front of her face.

"Savax!" a deep and unpleasant voice boomed in the room.

Girra unshielded her eyes some to allow some light, to test her vision. It was still very bright and it hurt, but she had to try and see again. She lowered her head and squinted toward the area the voice seemed to have come from. All she could make out was a dark blur some distance ahead, as everything else was still a blurry brightness.

"Who the hell are you!!" she spat as she tried again to see with more clarity. She could make out a form now, but it wasn't distinguishable.

"I am Laerron, remember me? I am he who contracted you on the bounty for the T'surr," the Elomin explained.

Girra was confused. She indeed remembered the contract, and the name Laerron, the person who had contracted her. She still could only remember that moment before she blacked out, and the events preceding it. From the pain she felt and her current displacement, she naturally surmised that she had been taken from behind, unawares. Was it Laerron? His doing? Or was she safe? She did not know.

"What happened to me?" she asked Laerron.

"Well, I hit you," he stated as-a-matter-of-factly.

Girra's vision had returned more or less to normal, things were a bit hazy, but she could again see with much more clarity. Clarity of her predicament was another story altogether. "I remember...the T'surr, and now this. You hired me, why have you done this?!"

"I have my reasons of course. You will soon find out, I assure you."

Girra rubbed at her eyes and took a look at the man before her. Standing in the corner with one bent knee resting his foot on the wall, and his arms crossed, was the Elomin who claimed to be Laerron. The Laerron who had hired her to find and capture the T'surr. He was crimsoned skin, his bald head bearing four devilish horns. He wore black and violet robes, kinda like a perverted image of a Jedi, she thought. She couldn't make sense of it, but she was growing quite pissed. Why would he hire me? she thought. And then turn around and knock me out? Abducting me?

"You faired well against the T'surr, by the way. And your elimination of your competition in the process was most admirable," Laerron complimented. "I was dismayed at how easy it was to take you from behind. I was looking forward to a bit of a fight. But, since you had no idea of my presence, I opted to render you unconscious," he explained further.

"Well, I feel some regret myself. But don't be too dismayed because I'm going to kick your fucking ass now!" she exclaimed as she pushed up from the wall to attack him.

All of a sudden everything went black, she could see nothing, but felt the hard knee being forced into her midsection. Girra muffled a cry of pain and shock, and again assumed a position on the floor, hugging herself in a fetal position and fighting for breath against the pain.

"Your skills cannot best mine, Savax, and you are in no position to do much more than to lie there and think about that," Laerron stated coldly. A door whooshed open and a dim light filtered in. He walked out the doorway and the door immediately shot back down, leaving Girra in the darkness again.

"Well," she moaned, "that was unpleasant." She stayed still and waited for the pain to subside. This was defiantly not part of the deal, she thought to herself with anger. And it is going to cost you much more, Laerron.

---

"Savax, Part 3: Enter Kruluk"
By: Girra Xel-Xux Zillar, PC (Smuggler & Bounty Hunter)
Kruluk Vekker, NPC (Crime Lord)
Laerron, NPC (Assassin)
Jalahana, NPC (Body Guard, Criminal)
Morg Nar, NPC (Criminal)

Location: Yandrosa District, New Plouton
Date: Lythe 25, 4ABY

***

Several hours had passed as Girra had gotten up from the floor to inspect her dark surroundings. She could find no controls for the door or any lights. She figured he must have had a control for both. There was nothing at all in the room, just floor and wall, the ceiling higher than she could jump to reach, as she had tried. She thought back about his comment about her competition. It was Laerron's message to her that informed her that there were other bounties out for the T'surr, though it did not state that he had hired other bounty hunters. What kind of game are you playing, Laerron? she asked to herself.

Girra had taken up a position along the wall, her left side parallel to the door. She could not see anything, so it was reasonable to assume that there was not a camera, unless she was being monitored by night vision. In any case she wasn't about to just lie around.

The door opened again suddenly, and the lights came back on. Girra shielded her face with her right hand, and kicked out with her right knee, finding air and stumbling into the strong grip of a bulky Houk. She tried to free herself, but the Houk dragged her from the door opening and out into the dimly lit room beyond, heaving her up in a bear hug and throwing her down to the floor. She hit hard on her bottom, knocking the air out of her.

"Hahahahaaaaaa!" the Houk bellowed heartily. "What, you think you take me? Morg Nar?" he asked nonchalantly in poor Basic. "Stoopid whoa-mon!" he exclaimed with his thick accent.

"Now, now Morg, let's not rough her up too much," a female voice instructed in perfect Basic.

Girra regained her breath and her sight was easily restored thanks to the dimness of the room she was now in, by way of the Houk's bullishness. The hulking thing that had grabbed her stood before her. He was two meters tall, very bulky and all too ugly, Girra had thought. His leathery skin was a blue-green, with beige blotches. His head bore a smooshed in face with a dominant brow, a big pouty mouth, and his head narrowed back like a small range of knotty mountains. The female next to him was the sluttish looking Jalahana, pink skinned and tattooed with black markings.

"Forgive Morg Nar, my dear, he is as stupid as he is ugly, I assure you," Jalahana told Girra.

"What?!" Morg exclaimed. "She try attack!" he boomed, pointing an accusing finger at Girra.

Jalahana dismissed him with a wave of her hand. "Take her to Kruluk, Morg," she ordered. "And don't you get any more bright ideas. It won't help you anyway," she added to Girra.

Morg the Houk grabbed Girra from under her arm, cuffing her and hauled her off down a hallway.

"Cute couple you two make," Girra smarted. "She obviously wears the pants in this family, eh? At least in phrase, that is."

Morg jerked her along more forcefully. "You shut mouth, bitch!" he cursed.

"My do you people lack manners around here. Didn't any of your mothers teach you how to treat a lady?"

Morg just grunted a reply and shoved her along. They came to a turbolift. Morg shoved her in. Girra fell into the back wall, barely keeping herself from smacking her head. She gave Morg a defiant look.

"What?!" he asked as he shrugged his shoulders. "Not fault you clumsy and trip," he said with as much of a smile as his species was capable of. He pushed her up front and hit the up button. The door closed and they were whisked up several levels.

The door opened into a foyer. Morg shoved Girra out of the lift, she stumbled out and he grabbed a fistful of her hair. "You meet Vekker. You mind!" he commanded of her. He lead her deeper into the foyer. The entire room was designed with sheet-rock, stone like panels that covered the walls, floors, ceiling and support posts. There were plants all around as well. As they went further ahead, she was led into a room much the same as the foyer. The room opened up considerably, having a transparisteel domed ceiling allowing a night sky view of some surrounding city, and a large pool of water in the center of the floor. She spied Laerron standing off on the opposite side of the pool.

"Greetings, Savax," he said

Girra said nothing as Morg shoved her down to the floor. Just then Jalahana entered the room. "Kruluk is on his way," she stated. She turned to Girra who was sitting on her knees on the floor. "Care for a drink?" Jalahana asked as she held up her glass of some kind of violet liquid. Girra just gave her a look of dismissal. Jalahana threw the contents of the drink in Girra's face. Girra turned her head, but the majority of the violet liquid splashed her face and dripped to the floor. Girra spat and winced at the potent alcoholic smell.

The pool bubbled as a Quarren stepped to the surface of the pool by way of rocky steps inside the water. Jalahana offered a giant plush towel. He dismissed her with a wave of his clawed metallic hand, a prosthetic, Girra noticed. He stepped out of the pool and down a few stairs to stand by Jalahana's side. He looked Girra over, and turned to the Elomin across the pool. "This is Savax?" he hissed as his facial tentacles quivered.

"Indeed," Laerron answered simply. "He turned out to be a she."

"And what of the Rodian?" he asked.

"The Nikto are bringing him now, my Lord Kruluk," Jalahana informed. "This one," she pointed at Girra, "nearly killed the Rodian, Ne'Chak."

"Really. She doesn't seem much to look at, not that much would be taken to best that particular Rodian," Kruluk commented.

Girra took a good look at the Quarren they had called Kruluk Vekker. She knew nothing of him, or any of the other people that were her captors. She had thought that the Elomin, Laerron, was the man in charge, but clearly it was this Lord Vekker. He was tall for a Quarren; his squid like face was most menacing. He stood before her naked, his skin wet from the pool, a dark red. He had a noticeable scar across his left eye. Several of his facial tentacles had gold colored rings around them. And then there were his hands. Quarren had long sucker tipped fingers, this Kruluk had both his hands replaced with robotic prosthetics, both ending in very sharp and deadly pointed fingers of metal.

The Nikto then arrived with the injured Rodian. Girra noticed he didn't look so well. His face was wrapped in bacta bandages. His large eyes told he was not very coherent. The Nikto shoved him to his knees. The Rodian didn't fight it.

"This one is Ne'Chak," Jalahana said. "His jaw was broke, but he will live. I gave him some pain killers to stop his incessant moaning...for the time being."

"Very well, as long as he will be able to perform. A lot of money is being paid for the recreation they are going to offer," Kruluk stated, waving a silvery finger at the two of them. "What of the T'surr, is he still useable?"

"The T'surr is fine Vekker," Laerron chimed in. His voice had an air of contempt in it. "He is chained. The T'surr is most volatile, and un-agreeable."

"I'm sorry," Girra blurted. "Just what form of entertainment did you people have in mind? I have two left feet and my singing is only good in the shower I am afraid."

"Agh, we have a comedian. Woman, I have a buffoon in my presence already. Do yourself a favor and just shut up," Kruluk spat as he gave Girra a sharp backhand. The strike smarted her lip, and she could feel a trickle of blood running from the corner of her mouth. Kruluk pointed to Morg, "Take them back to their cells, give them food and water so they can be rested and ready for tomorrow."

Morg and the Nikto complied, hauling the two off back from where they came.

---

"First Meeting"
By: Cole Slaton
Kal'Aran

Location: Jedi Temple, Tae'Karada
Date: Lythe 25, 4 ABY

***

He walked into the room and saw Cole Slaton. He had known about Cole coming into the Jedi Temple to get trained in the Jedi ways, but he still had to wonder if Cole was prepared to be trained. Or rather if Cole should in fact be trained, when he seemed so unlike any other padawans he had seen. But then again, past experience could never prove the future and if the other Jedi Masters had been convinced that this was the best course of action, then perhaps he ought to help the young man, since he had felt it within Cole Slaton... Fear.

"Greetings..." Kal'Aran bowed at Cole. "I am Kal'Aran, one of the Jedi Masters here at the Temple. I don't think I have had the chance to properly introduce myself yet!" he smiled.

Cole didn't stop, straight away hitting the punch bag with his elbow, kneeing it in the side then giving it a left hook into the midsection. He sighed, looking over at the Jedi. "No you haven't..." he replied before looking back at the bag, lifting his hands up in front of him. Ducking and weaving he struck the bag again and again. "So what can I do for you?" he asked, spinning around, kicking the bag head height.

"I was wondering how you were adjusting to the life here at the Temple..." Kal'Aran said. "Have you begun your training yet?"

Cole paused for a moment, his eyes looking to Kal'Aran for the briefest of moments. He continued punching the bag in front of him, elbowing it in the side, following up with sharp jabs. "I've started my training, I met my knew Master a few days ago and he's been training with me ever since." He didn't answer the first part about adjusting to life in the temple. What could he say? He missed the city, the streets, his old life... it was a shit hole at times but it was still his life. The freedom. He missed the freedom.

"And what do you find of life here at the Temple?" Kal'Aran asked again, since Cole hadn't answered. "I can imagine that it isn't easy to change life styles overnight..." he said sincerely. He himself had never had the experience since he had grown up within the Jedi Academy.

"Its...difficult..." he replied, finally stopping his training. He stepped over and sat down on one of the benches close by. Grabbing his towel he dropped it around his shoulders. "Being here, among Jedi, is a totally different world to what I'm used to..." He left the thought unfinished, not wanting to dwell on the past because that's what it was, the past. He couldn't change what was happening anymore than he could change the seasons. He needed this, though he hated admitting it. He knew without the training the raw power within him would eventually rip him apart. It was already starting, the headaches, the dreams.

Kal'Aran walked closer to Cole and sat down. "No one said it would be an easy task... The life of a Jedi is not an easy path to follow, from the lifestyle to the tasks that are sometimes asked of us. But you should be aware that all of us are here to help each other if necessary," he smiled gently.

Cole nodded. "I'll keep that in mind..." he whispered, his eyes looking to the side at the Jedi.

Kal'Aran sighed. He didn't want to press Cole, and he knew Cole had to take his own steps and ask for help if he really wanted it. Still, he would have to insist a little more perhaps. "Is there anything you would like to talk about, Cole?" the Jedi Master asked.

Cole turned, looking at Kal'Aran, raising an eyebrow. "Err... nothing comes to mind..." he said, looking away, crossing his arms over his chest. "But I know where you are if I need anything."

Kal'Aran got up and bowed at Cole. "You know, Cole, I have felt fear in you, and I hope you can tame it, for fear leads to hate, hate leads to anger, and anger leads to the dark side of the Force. And believe me, you don't want to go down that path..." he told Cole, and then patted him on the shoulder and started to make his way out of the room. "One of the precepts the Jedi have is to conquer stubbornness, and another is to conquer arrogance. Perhaps you should meditate on them and on what we talked about..."

"Everyone fears some point in their life..." Cole countered, though whispering. "But not everyone's fears are the same."

"I'm not telling you to suppress your feelings. They too are part of what makes a human being whole. But you should be able to tame them. Of course, this comes with training also, and that is what you are also here for. To learn," Kal'Aran said. "But perhaps you would accept my suggestion and meditate on it, and maybe you can sleep better."

"I'd do anything to get rid of..." He stopped himself short before saying too much. "I'll think on what you said... thanks..." He said the word almost as if he'd not used it in a long time, if ever.

Kal'Aran nodded and then bowed to Cole respectfully before leaving the room.

---

"Banin's Curse"
By Quistis Knox
Tasia Harough
Other Minor NPCs

Location: Prison Facility in Roch'llor Mountains, Gallor
Date: Lythe 25, 4 ABY

***

The stench of burnt flesh had entered her nose. A dead corpse with his thorax was visible, and smoke exited from the wound. There was no life from the body. A severe scar was visible from his chest, of the torture that was inflicted on him.

Two guards were around the body laughing, about something, but they didn't see the body laying around there or they didn't cover the body. Quistis knew why that was. The body laying there uncovered was an example for those who decided to confront the guards.

She didn't know were exactly she was, she knew that somewhere in the Roch'llor mountains, but not exactly. Not even how much time she was there, she knew that had passed by, but not exactly, since she was too tired to do the math.

She glanced to the side and saw that a fellow prisoner was falling to the ground without any strength left. Quistis put her sack full of rocks down and helped the fellow prisoner to get up. The guard used his whip against Quistis and the fellow prisoner.

"Stop slacking! Go back to work you two!"

Quistis caught the whip when the soldier was going to use it for a second time with her hand. She looked menacing and then released, without even saying a word. She helped the fellow prisoner and with a look the prisoner understood that she was helping him.

She picked up her sack full of rocks and then, putting the left hand of the prisoner over her neck, while another prisoner helped carry the prisoner's sack.

"Thank you..." His voice was a faint one and tired some.

"Don't mention it. We have to stick together. Or a lot of people will die." Quistis continued to walk, carrying her sack and the prisoner. As they passed in part where she had to climb a wooden and fragile stairs, two prisoners that were on their way to get more sacks took the prisoner.

"Take him to the infirmary and tell the guard that he made a concussion on his head that should be looked at." Quistis knew that if they told the guard that was in front of the infirmary that the prisoner was only tired that he could kill the prisoner. With this lie he could maintain him alive.

"Ok, Banin," both man said.

Quistis smiled and continued her journey. The banin was one of the many words created by the prisoners, like their own code. Banin was the name they called boss, since her arrival here she'd staked her life for others and that created some huge respect for her. But not only a portion of the prisoners, but almost all, since she already shook over a thousand hands, but Quistis knew that she only had met not even one third.

After a long day of work, the horn used by one of the guards told that it was time to go to their respective tents to wait for their day's meal. The prisoners slowly started to leave their respective sacks and go to their tents. Quistis entered their tent and lay down on her bed, since her entire body hurt like hell.

"Banin, after a day passes you gain more fans."

Quistis looked to the side to gaze at who spoke, but it was a girl there. She was an Imperial trooper that had been caught over two years. She had been all the time here. Her name was Tajeri Verton. "I just do this because it's the right thing to do. I can't help see a fellow prisoner if he or she are Imperial, New Republic, or another faction. We are prisoners in this facility, which means we have a common enemy."

The prisoners that were Quistis' roommates looked to each other and then one with a well built body spoke. "That reminds me of that girl that was with us several months ago, what is her name?"

"I think it was Tyris... Something Tyris... I can't recall her first name."

"Yeah... She was the backbone of all of us. She was the only one that confronted the colonel. She was the Colonel's headache. If he tried to arm one of the prisoners or her, no punishment would make as an example. That lead to the revolt of the third tunnel, which only stopped when she said so. Many of the guards were killed and several were wounded, but he suffered twice the number of the guards."

"Yeah," a guy that was the shorter of the tent said, a New Republic scientist that didn't cooperate with this unknown faction. "But if we continue we could beat them and she decided to stop - that we won't win like that by many sacrifices. What was her name? We called her by Banin..."

"It was Kemma."

Everybody looked back to Sir Eldoow Dalin, the oldest man in this tent and probably the oldest and wisest of the entire prison facility.

Quistis glanced to Eldoow. "Pardon me?"

"Her name is Kemma Tyris. She was and I hope still is with the New Republic. She spoke with me all the time about her personal life and how to help fellow prisoners. She had a brother that she said was a big time war hero of the Rebel Alliance." He paused and slid to ground like he was reliving that time. "She was always in hope for her brother to rescue her, she imagined him to be in charge of her rescue mission, she even planned for the prisoners to revolt when that time came, but..."

"But...?" Quistis was interested to hear more.

"But a man came, bought Kemma from the Colonel and she was taken away. From that day we suffered so much punishment that over 25% of the prisoners were killed for the reprisals of what Kemma had done. if I were you I wouldn't speak her name, since she is considered to be a traitor and some prisoners here vow to kill her for accepting the Colonel's offer."

Quistis sighed; the ground and silence hit the tent, like a rock. She understood what she felt, maybe she was on the verge of a collapse and the sum of her brother never to rescue made her accept, but as Eldoow spoke more about Kemma, she felt more that Kemma didn't understand: that she had an entire camp full of war prisoners ready to follow her lead to fight for their freedom and then she simply stabbed their trust in their back...

Quistis saw things clearly, since while Eldoow spoke about Kemma she more and more saw to fit what Kemma was in here. Fought full, protective and she alone had challenged many of the guards there that made the prisoners believe in Quistis; they saw a new hope in her, she didn't want to, but she saw it was her responsibility to do this.

***

She'd been forced to listen time and again as the phantom voices issued from her comm. Ty had been recruited to help her track the signal, or even find some way to reach Quistis...but there had yet to be progress. So, when a moment could be spared, Tasia Harough would sit and listen, and remain attentive for any potential clues to uncover Ms. Knox's location.

There were none, only long moments of silence as Quistis sat alone in her cell, the same gravelly voice rasping the arrival of dinner, interposed by an agonizing period of torture. The whip's sharp cracks still resounded in her mind.....

That night, though, when she'd managed to find sleep, the voices returned. A discussion had been struck up among Quistis and the others occupying her cell. Tasia kept a log of anything of interest mentioned, anything alluding to the location, such as landscape or climate.... The only thing of note spoken in that hushed conversation was a name that initiated a vague recognition in Tasia. The name...it was a familiar one, but she couldn't yet place it.

A sleepy yawn interrupted the search through her mental filing cabinet of names, and reminded Tasia that she had five hours before her next shift. Reclining on her bed and draping one arm over her eyes, she allowed sleep to come, but still with the single name ringing in her mind: Kemma Tyris...

***

Quistis was in her bed and trying to get some sleep, but her back continued to hurt like hell. It had been days since she arrived here at this place... Her mind tried to shut down and wipe those memories, from its own mind, but the memories where still fresh. She turned to the side and closed her eyes and then she could see herself being beaten by that whip. She opened her eyes again; her breath was now somewhat fast. She was a Cleric and she had to surpass this once and for all.

A crack came from outside her tent. She sat on her bed and glanced to her friends, who were fast asleep, but Eldoow was still working on the table of the cell, that were probably his last memories.

Out of nowhere four guards entered the cell. The noise grabbed Quistis, who tried to fight off the guards, but she was caught by surprise. The guards punched her in the head and stomach, which quickly made her without strength. They dragged Quistis out of her cell, while her prisoners woke up and saw helplessly her friend and Banin being taken away, so they followed the guards as they called the other prisoners of the other tents.

Quistis was dragged to the Colonel's tent. He was standing at the entrance, glancing over the edge of the abyss. "Ha, Miss Doe or Banin, whatever that means." The colonel knew that was a name created by the prisoners but he didn't know what rank was that name. "Can I call you Jane? As I said this is my prison and I don't like someone confronting my guards, because it will give these people" --pointing to the crowd forming up-- "some wild ideas to plan how to get out this place."

Quistis looked to his eyes with anger and hate.

"I don't like that, Jane. Not one bit."

"You are afraid that what happened with Kemma Tyris, happens again, is it?" Quistis finally spoke.

The colonel gave a brief smile and punched her in her face. "That name is prohibited to be spoken ever again in this place." He then approached Quistis' ear. "I made the mistake to get her loose, but I won't allow that to happen again."

Quistis laughed out loud and that made the colonel more mad. "It is not up to you to allow the prisoners to choose a leader, it is not up to you if the prisoners are organizing again, because that is what us prisoners called survival. Together we can beat anyone that tries to hurt us, and the more you punish us the more we become rebellious."

The colonel hit Quistis in the head with his fist and he was more angry than ever. "THIS IS MY PRISON, ROCH'LLOR MOUNTAINS IS MY KINGDOM AND NO ONE WILL TAKE THAT FROM ME. NOT YOU, NOT A BUNCH OF REBELS OR THE MIGHTY EMPIRE. I am in charge here and any of you who try to escape, I will shoot you without mercy or have the appropriate punishment."

The Captain next to the colonel approached his colonel. "Sir, what are your orders?"

The Colonel sighed for a moment, calming down and then an idea hit him and a smile formed in his lips. "Captain, 25 slashes of Thinfro whip, if you would please."

The Captain opened his eyes as much as he could, surprised by the order. "Sir?"

"What is the problem, Captain?"

"None, sir, but don't you think 25..."

"You're right, Captain. Thinfro Whip slashes and stop when she is on the verge of death. Don't give her that pleasure, Captain or you have to pay accordingly."

"Y... Yes, sir," the captain said as he turned away and walked where Quistis had on her first day her torture, as the two guards followed the captain, carrying Quistis.

She was placed on the ground and Quistis got up with difficulty. Her left eye was just a big potato, that she couldn't open her eye. She then was imprisoned on her wrist by iron chains. She looked like she was prepared to take her unfair punishment.

Two guards picked up two Thinfro Whips, one for each guard. The Thinfro Whip consisted of tiny several leather ropes not bi a hand, and on its edges were pointy and sharp kinds of a nexus claws. One of the soldiers made a demonstration.

The whip hit a wooden log that was near where Quistis was. The pointy, sharp metal hit the log and it was stuck with it. The soldier pushed it hard as it ripped tiny pieces of the log. The prisoners that were watching made a sound, that were saying 'no.' The guards charged their weapons and aimed to the crowed.

The first guard's slash was to Quistis' back, as several wounds were created on her back. Quistis screamed in pain, as the wounds felt like it was cut by nexus, opened and blood started to roll out of the wound. A second and third came up next and Quistis screamed accordingly, but more it sounded of a scream of despair.

Several more came next, as Quistis screamed more and more, that she started to cry in pain. One of the slashes got her left side and got stuck in it. The soldier tried to move but it wouldn't budge, so the soldier pushed it hard in one single stroke and his whip released. Quistis screamed, but it was that she couldn't, she had no more air in her lugs or because some of the blood was already in her mouth.

Another one caught her face and disfigured Quistis, who instantly dropped to the floor, the chains preventing her going all the way down.

All around Quistis, the ground was full of her blood. She had now several wounds and most of her skin and a flesh was ripped or hanging from her body. The guards continued with this torture and there was no telling when it was going to stop.

On a floating station lightyears away, the only person who knew of Quistis' plight sat helplessly, listening in the darkness of her quarters. She wondered how alone Quistis felt, then, or if she knew someone was aware of her situation.

"Hope," Tasia Harough whispered in the silence, one punctuated by rasping gasps issuing from her comm. "Hope, Ms. Knox," she urged again, for help was on the way.

---

"Lucky Breaks"
By: Cirran Tyris
Tasia Harough (NPC+)

Location: Drogen Shipyards, Tae'Remok system, Outer Rim
Date: Lythe 25, 4ABY

***

Cirran finished the seam he was working on and lowered the arc welder. Another panel of hull cladding welded into place, and after three and a half days of this, there were still about 40 to go, he estimated, looking at the mostly (but not entirely) cosmetic damage to the docking bay. Oh joy. They could get a droid to do this, they really could...but then they'd probably bill you for its services, Cirran.

He pulled up his mask and turned on the hoist platform he was standing on, some 5 metres above the deck, to gaze at the 'Fool's Hope', which was still more or less where he had left it in the bay, in no condition after all to move anywhere else. Deck crew had used repulsorlift loadbearers to shift the 'Hope' back from the rear wall of the bay yesterday (Cirran could see when he first arrived today that there would have to be more welding back there, too) and the external damage to the ship's own hull cladding was painfully apparent.

Although he had been informed by assessors (more station protocol - he hadn't been allowed near his own ship too often) the structure of the 'Hope' was intact, significant repairs both to her hull plating as well as the engine room were going to be needed to make her spaceworthy again. He longed to be working on his ship, not this insignificant section of docking bay, which he was sure could continue to serve its function as well, a wall, whether he repaired its plating or not.

A couple of close calls with funny looks from New Republic personnel, like the one he had had in the med centre 3 long, dull days ago had occurred on the station, and who knows what the administration was looking up and finding out about him. After less than a week of the free 'cusine' of the stim bar, and some restless, uncomfortable nights, Cirran's fuse was short. The thought of Jax possibly swanning about unmolested nearby somewhere was in particular driving him mad. He needed to get going.

Don't worry, girl, we'll fix you up. I still love you even though you're all beat up, he mentally promised his ship, and then his glance took in the long scrape down the right wall of the bay that yet awaited the attention of him and his welder. "Although I'm certainly beginning to wish that you didn't have such a fat arse," he said aloud, forgetting that talking to his ship in public was just a bit strange, and likely to cause some confusion.

"If that's how you talk to all your ladies, it's no wonder your lover is a dented hulk of metal." Tasia Harough had used the arm and crossbars of the hoist to climb, and was now peering up at Cirran from the edge of his platform. She was smirking. "If you're through making eyes at your ship, you think we can get this thing done?" One grease-stained, callused hand, still so delicate and tiny reached out to him. "Looks like you need a hand."

Cirran coughed in an embarrassed fashion, and looked sideways. "Aha, yes. When you fly around a lot by yourself, you see, you sort of..." he started, and then he looked down at the pretty face of the amused engineer, and his brain sent him urgent signals: You're already in a hole...for the love of the gods STOP DIGGING! Heeding the message, he settled for an embarrassed smile and helped Tasia up onto the platform. "Yes, anyway...sorry I've been a bit slow here these past couple of days, it's been a while since I've done this kind of thing, and as you might of guessed I'm a bit distracted."

"Done what?" she asked, sliding a hydrospanner from her tool belt. "Repaired a bulkhead or talked to a woman?" Tasia chuckled and applied the instrument to a bolt along one seam.

Ouch, thought Cirran. "Both, actually," he said. "When you're busy throwing big bits of metal around space, and you spend your leisure time with your head stuck in a high performance engine, you forget some of the basics - like plate welding and polite conversation. Plus, I tend to, er, move around a lot." Great, he thought. Now I sound like a sloop jockey low-life. He was suddenly struck by another thought. Newsflash, Cirran: of late, you ARE pretty much a lowlife. He frowned at the realisation.

"Well, if it's any consolation" --she bit down on her bottom lip while loosening a particular stubborn bolt until it came free-- "I don't move around at all and I'm not in the least well acquainted with the courtesies of social interaction." Tasia smirked. "And wandering around with a belt full of tools and a face always sporting grease smears doesn't incline one to spark up conversation with me."

Cirran smiled. "Actually the grease smears kind of suit you. And somehow I suspect you do OK for yourself when it comes to 'conversation'." He turned his attention again to the heavily scarred wall, glanced regretfully at his ship, and sighed heavily. "Did I try mentioning how this wasn't really my fault?" he said, grinning.

"You did," Tasia answered. "But it makes little difference. I'm not letting you lounge in a bar while I fix your damage." Her smile was teasing as she snatched the welder from Cirran's hold. "So," she said, after a time of working in silence, "there's something I've been meaning to ask you - it could be a coincidence, but then that would be a pretty big one."

Cirran flipped his mask up again. Things flashed quickly through his head. Coincidence? Sithspit, she must have worked out who I am, he thought. But she hasn't turned you in...well, a bribe's certainly out of the question if that's what she's thinking, I can't afford it...unless she wants, you know, something else...oh come on Cirran, what are you, 14? Keep bluffing, it's all you can do...

"Ah, you've obviously found out about my reputation as the Outer Rim's greatest party host and are looking for me to work my magic," he rambled. "Sadly, I can't oblige, as I appear to be living in a trash compactor that has jammed just before crushing point. It might start up again at any moment and then all 3 of the guests that would fit would be horribly squashed to death. So sorry." He smiled again but his eyes showed worry, as he wondered what was coming. The battered ship in the bay behind Tasia was a stark reminder that there was no quick getaway.

"You're almost funny," she told him with a crooked smile, then gesticulated with her welder as she emphasized, "Almost. But, that's not what I meant." Tasia returned to mending the seam. "I heard a name recently, and it's been in the back of my mind - I knew your name sounded familiar, and it's because I'd heard it before. Do you have any relations you don't know about?" Tasia waved the welder as if honing in on the name. "A....Kemma Tyris or some such. You ever heard of her?"

There was a sudden crash as Cirran dropped his welder, and one or two of the other station personnel working in the bay looked around. However, any concerns Cirran may have had for his own anonymity had been instantly forgotten. "She's my sister!" he said loudly and urgently. "I've been looking for her for years! Do you know her, is she all right?" Wild-eyed, he grabbed the sleeve of Tasia's coveralls in his excitement. "Do you know where she is?" he pleaded desperately.

"Hey, hands off," she told him calmly, wiping his hand from her arm as she would a speck of dust. "I just heard the name, okay? This woman I know...she's in some trouble, somewhere and the name was spoken. She's really your sister?"

"Yes, she's..." Cirran took a deep breath and composed himself, his inner cynic reasserting itself. Settle, Cirran, she'll think you've lost it. How many people named Kemma Tyris in the galaxy? Probably a lot. His next sentence was more measured. "I'm sorry, this must seem pretty strange to you. But I do have a sister named Kemma. I lost her a long time ago, and I've been looking ever since. But I don't even know if she's still alive. Who's this woman in trouble, and where is she?"

"I don't know where she is," Tasia answered, turning back to her work. "She was here about a week ago, then left for...wherever. Quistis Knox, she called herself. A strange one...but she seemed harmless enough."

Cirran watched Tasia working, but the mundane task facing him of fixing the wall may as well have been on Coruscant for all he cared about it right now. The impatient nature that had caused him problems in his Alliance days was quickly in evidence, as questions came flooding into his mind, and he started to voice them rapidly, his thoughts bubbling out in a rush. "What does she have to do with Kemma then? Are you in contact with this strange harmless woman? What's the trouble, Imps, or is it something else?"

Tasia chuckled. "Slow down, will you? I don't have any of those answers for you. I haven't been able to speak directly to her - seems I can hear her, but she can't hear me." Glancing aside at Cirran, Tasia noted his distress. She sobered her features and turned to face him fully. "Look, I would help you if I could, but that's all I know."

Cirran ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, trying to remind himself this was not Tasia's fault in any way. "Look, I don't really expect you to understand any of this," he said, "I know...I realise, that is, that this must all be strange to you. But...I don't know. Did you ever lose anyone,Tasia? I...I lost everyone that mattered to me in one night, and I've been chasing ghosts in one way or another for years now. I fought in a war I really knew nothing about, and I keep fighting it, and I've been labelled traitor and worse for going in search of the truth..." Dejected, Cirran had forgotten his own situation completely. "...And now I find myself stuck here on a station full of people that should be putting me on trial for dereliction of duty, at least..." he admitted. "...And you make the first mention of my sister's name in months, but with nothing to follow up, nothing to check on, nowhere to go, and anyway if there was anything, I'm stuck here, stuck without a ship...so godsdamned POWERLESS!" His frustration boiled over, and he pounded a newly repaired section of wall with his fist, ignoring the scraped knuckles that he had already incurred from a similar action only a couple of days previously.

With Cirran's additional agitated shouting, and the clang of his hand on the wall, more curious deck crew working in the area began to pay attention to the situation unfolding on top of the hoist.

"You'll be repairing that, I hope," Tasia said blandly, then sighed and hunkered down with her back to the wall, crooking a finger at Cirran to join her. "Things aren't as dire as you're making them out to be. Calm down...and maybe we can figure something out."

Cirran slumped down the wall, still full of the urge to start doing something, anything. "Listen, Tasia, I don't need a lesson in recognising dire situations, if you knew..." he started angrily, and then caught himself. "...I'm sorry. This isn't your fault. As you may be starting to work out though..." -- he raised a hand with bloody knuckles to gesture towards the damaged bay and his grounded ship -- "...I'm kind of a walking dire situation, at least of late." He leant back, resting his head on the newly repaired wall, and took a deep breath. "So what can I do? What can we do?" he asked. "And please don't say 'wait'," he added sardonically, as he absent-mindedly started to suck blood off the back of his hand.

Tasia smirked. "I wasn't. What I do remember from all I've heard is the psycho overlord keeping her mention some mountains...Roch...Rock...." Tasia chewed her lip and began mumbling curses as her memory failed her.

Cirran sighed. "Why is there always a psycho overlord? Could be anywhere. Try to remember, Tasia, please, if you have a name, at least I can go and have a look at things..." -- he saw the damaged Fool's Hope, and cringed --"...somehow. I don't know about a rescue though, because I'm ..." Cirran paused briefly, and then quickly decided that if Tasia Harough wanted him in the brig, she could put him there anyway. "...look, as you and probably everyone in this bay by now may have guessed, I'm AWOL from the Alliance. I'm a pilot, and a bloody good one. But it doesn't matter how good a pilot I am, I'm not a commando. I don't know how to conduct a rescue mission. But if Kemma turns out to be in this place, I'll fight an AT-AT with a spoon if I have to." He smiled a little. "Oh, and I don't like to tell you this, but your repairs might drop down the list of priorities as well."

"Then get your ass up and get to it," she bullied him, but with a smile. "I'll bounce the name off some people I know...maybe it'll ring a bell for one of them. I can't make promises, Mr. Tyris...but if I can help, I will." Tasia grinned. "I happen to know someone who's good with a blaster, and another who can slice his way into anything. So...if it sounds like an adventurous, entertaining prospect that won't likely get me killed...I'd be glad to join you."

Cirran smiled. "Well, I'd be more than glad to have you along. Thanks, Tasia. Let me know when you come up with that name, and in the meantime let's fix this wall so we can get around to fixing my ship." Cirran picked up the arc welder, stood up and returned to his work, giving the woman to his side an occasional glance. Strange to think only a couple of days ago I would have been quite happy to fire her out of my torpedo tube, he thought. Spurred on, he rapidly finished off a section of the hull plating, humming an old Liannan tuneto himself. He may have been lined up to go on a probably dangerous mission,well beyond his own capabilities, to rescue someone he had never met, with a group of strangers for company - and on top of it all nursing a couple of cracked knuckles - but Cirran Tyris was happier than he had been in a long time.

---

"Silence Of The Forest"
By: Cole Slaton
Kel Deneb

Location: Jedi Temple, Tae'Karada
Date: Lythe 25, 4 ABY

***

Cole walked along the corridor of the temple. It was dark within the corridors even with the torches burning in their holders - the torches gave only a dim yellow light casting strange shadows on the walls and ceiling, but Cole ignored them. He had woken from another nightmare covered in sweat, he'd taken a quick shower before venturing out into the temple.

He was thinking on the dreams trying to figure out what they meant. They seemed so real, they even caused him pain. Dreams did not cause pain!

Kel had come to the temple to do some walking around, and he just wanted to let them know that he was in the woods, so some recruit did not try to do him in. He would definitely not appreciate if that happened.

He stepped along the corridor of the temple, running his hand along the wall, feeling the texture of the ancient stone. The temple was old, probably one of the oldest buildings left standing. He didn't really know how old the temple was; in truth he didn't much care. Before he knew where he was heading he found himself outside.

The stars were sparkling in the night sky, those he could see through the cloud cover caught in the westerly winds coming from the mountains. The mountains were hidden in the darkness of the night but he knew they were still there, standing proud for all to see and would remain standing long after Cole had gone to dust. It wasn't a very comforting thought.

The forest was quiet. Which suited Cole just fine. He stepped out into the forest, passing trees on his right and left, hearing faint callings from various animals some miles off.

"You know," a voice said behind him, "the reason the forest is quiet is because you're making such noise while you're walking." Kel stood up from the seat he had taken at the base of a tree, and made his way over to the man. "I take it you're from the temple. I'm Kel Deneb," the bounty hunter said, extending his hand.

Cole looked at the hand and then at the man offering it. He made no move to take it. "I like it quiet...and yeah, I'm from the temple. But the question is why are you here?" he asked, his eyes fixed on the bounty hunter. Just his luck. Getting out of the temple for some quiet time, since his roommate's snores were like small earthquakes, he had to run into the local idiot.

Kel smirked, and put his hand down. "I'm here to think, mostly, and to get out of the city," he added. "I'm a friend of Laedra's."

"Right..." Cole countered, nodding slowly, not bothering to hide his true feelings. He didn't trust the man. Anyone could find out who Laedra was and what she did. Jedi weren't best received at the moment, on any side. The New Republic tolerated them and the rest downright hated them, wanting nothing more than to see them 6 feet under.

"So what do you do?" Cole asked.

"Obviously, you don't believe me when I say I'm a friend of Laedra's. As to your question, I'm a bounty hunter. I did her a favour, and since then, we help each other out when needed," Kel said to him.

"Trust is a very hard thing to come by these days..." Cole muttered, not caring if the bounty hunter heard or not. The fact was that Cole hadn't had much luck when it came to trust; most people he had classed as friends would have slit his throat before lifting a finger to help him. He was slowly beginning to trust the Jedi, but it was slow. "Though she's one of the most trusting people I've met." Cole looked up at the sky through the wafting tree branches. The clouds were passing over heading off towards the horizon. "You here on business? Or pleasure?" he asked, looking back at the bounty hunter, remembering how he came to be here and the fact the people he left behind might not have forgotten about him so easily.

"Clear my head, mostly. There's a lot going outside the confines of the temple lately, and somehow I've gotten involved in it," he said with a smirk. Kel indicated for them to continue walking along the trail. "Ever since Lae invited me to the temple, she said I could come walk around here whenever I wanted, so I do to get away."

"I've been cooped up in here for... a while... what's been happening in the real world?" Cole asked. He just wanted to know there was a world outside the stone walls of the temple. Since meeting his new Master he'd had little to no time to himself. Meditating, lightsaber practice, using the Force, both sensing and moving objects. The training was a full-time job.

He smirked. "How long have you been cooped up?" Kel asked as they continued along. "Most things are not of consequence at the moment, really...just small, trivial things."

He looked at him and shrugged. "It feels like I've been cooped up forever. You only can stare at the stone walls for a period of time. I've long past it." Cole sighed as he looked back out in front of them as they walked through the forest. "It's why I come out here from time to time, to get away from the temple and be by myself. Not used to all these...rules..."

"A bit of a loner then?" Kel asked.

Cole nodded. "You could say that. Been on my own since my dad left, never looked back. It was quite a shock when they approached me to become a Jedi...one thing I never saw myself as, yet here I am."

"Well, our lives take interesting paths," Kel said with a smile.

Cole nodded, looking at Kel for a moment, trying to figure the man out. He'd not met many bounty hunters and those he had weren't like Kel - they were arrogant, full of themselves thinking they were god's gift to the universe. Kel was more down to earth. "So it would seem..." Cole finally replied. "A street thug becomes a Jedi knight. What are the odds on that?"

"About as much odds as me becoming a hunter," he replied to Cole. "Not really the path I had originally planned, but the one which revenge can lead you to."

Cole nodded. He knew all about revenge. He'd taken it on more occasions than he cared to remember, on rival gangs, crime lords, and even people. Men and women who hadn't paid their 'protection' money. He'd seen and heard it all. It still gave him nightmares. "Revenge is a powerful thing...a very powerful thing..." he added the last more for himself than Kel.

"Aye, that it is...and it leaves someone with more anger than relief," Kel added.

Cole nodded his agreement, but didn't say anything. What was there to say? That he knew all too well what it felt like? Kel knew what he was talking about, he didn't know how he knew but he did none-the-less. Perhaps the Force was giving him some insight, then again perhaps not.

"So why did you want to become a Jedi?" Kel asked after a few moments of silence.

"Seemed like a good idea at the time...was having problems with the local authorities, with batons and a walled cell. I must have used the Force 'cause a woman came into the station, a Jedi, she said she'd sensed me. I'd never believed in gods...but she sure was an angel..." He smiled. "She offered me a choice...come here...or stay with my new friends. I chose here, never looked back."

Kel chuckled a little. "Not much of a choice, but I'm sure coming here was better than rotting in a cell," he added. "Do you regret joining?"

He shook his head. "No..." and was surprised that he meant it, even with everything that had happened during his brief time at the temple. "Not even in the slightest..." he added with a genuine smile.

"Good to hear. Sounds like you're already turning your life around then," Kel said as they continued along.

Cole smiled, nodding slightly. "Seems that way does it? Hope it works. I miss my old life...from time to time...but I wouldn't like to go back. Too many bad memories." He glanced at Kel for a moment. "Ever think about hanging up your hunting shoes for something else?"

"Nah, not yet," he said to Cole. "I still have unfinished business."

Cole nodded. He looked up at the stars for a moment, sighing. "I best get back... Some of the masters usually start stirring this time. Nice to have met you..." he said, offering Kel his hand.

Kel shook his hand. "Nice to meet you, and hopefully I will see you again," he added.

---

"Luck Favours The Prepared Mind"
by Auron Ronso
Kyra Ronso
Ellemiek Vermollen
Tifa Alexandros Lionheart - NPC+
Aeris Strife - NPC+
Vyn Kether
Adam Edwards

and

Corey Vankils - Wild Cards Squadron 2ºCO (NPC)
Doz Wo Stath - Kondor Squadron CO (NPC)
Colonel Turkamen - CRS Concodia Commandos CO (NPC)

Location: CRS Concordia
Date: Lythe 25, 4 ABY

***

Tifa glanced over to the bottom of her glass. She had been drinking to the death of her comrades. Tifa had never felt like this before. Her heart was heavy for the loss of her friends.

"Hi. How are you?" Aeris asked as she sat next to Tifa, glancing towards her.

"Fine..." she answered as she placed her glass on the table and forced a smile.

"You sure don't look like you're fine! I know the loss of our friends can be great, but you have to pull it together or you can be kicked off the squadron!" Aeris tried to comfort her friend.

Tifa knew that what Aeris was saying was true. If she didn't pull herself together she would eventually be kicked off the squadron, and things got even tougher when they belonged to an elite squadron, like the Wild Cards. Tifa tried to smile, but she got even heavier. "I just can't give up thinking about that. I felt so hopeless..."

Aeris looked towards Tifa and examined her for a moment. She was really down and she had never seen her like that. Aeris was her friend and she, as a former black operative could tell who she was. Tifa was a trooper not a pilot. On the other hand, it pained her to see Tifa leave the squadron, even if it was true that a pilot with such an attitude as this was as good as dead. To be a pilot one needed to have a high morale because the cost of low morale was paid with the lives of pilots.

"Tifa, have you ever thought about transferring to one of the commando units?" Aeris suggested.

"Because, I'm not trustworthy? Or something else... I don't know. They put me in a squadron and I just followed those orders. Well, I'm getting some sleep. See ya!" Tifa got up and exited the bar.

Aeris saw Tifa exit the bar and the only thing she could think was: Got to do something! So, Aeris exited the bar and tried to find where exactly Auron was.

After a few minutes asking around she was able to find Auron standing with Corey, the second in command of the Wild Cards. "Auron, I was looking for you. I need to speak with you in private."

"Sure!" Auron nodded as he got closer to Aeris, glancing at her face. "What is so important?"

Aeris got some courage in her and then said it. "It is Tifa. I think that she isn't fit for the Wild Cards."

"Go on..."

"Well, she really wants to enter the commandos and for the good of this squadron and for her as well, I think that she should be transferred to the commandos, or the..."

"Or the lives of the fellow pilots can be in danger. I know all about high and low morale, Aeris. I'll see what I can do, ok?"

Aeris smiled and nodded. She turned away and exited the room. Auron nodded and turned to Corey. "Do you have Tifa Alexandros Lionheart's file in those datapads?"

"Yes I do. Why?"

"I think we should have look at that file," Auron said as Corey took out a datapad and inserted the entrance to link it to the main screen. The screen was turned on and Tifa's bio appeared.

***

"Sir, as you can see, Flight Officer Lionheart is in the wrong place. Yes, she is a good pilot, but she is an even better trooper. I think it would be best if Flight Officer Lionheart was transferred to the Commandos."

The Admiral overlooked the screen and sighed. "As of this point, I don't think that is wise. I realise that Tifa is a better field officer than pilot, but you must consider her past. After all, she was with the Liberation Army, and even though she proved herself in the past days with us, I feel it better to have her with someone I can trust to overlook her. That's why she was placed in your squadron. Perhaps sometime later, if she maintains herself as current standards, she can be placed somewhere else, if she still chooses to do so."

Auron sighed and thought for a moment. It was true what the admiral had said. Tifa hadn't been with the New Republic for long, but Auron himself had just been with them for a few more months than Tifa after his amnesia. Because of not being so trustworthy when he first returned, he had been placed under the command of Ellemiek, only having been given command of his own squadron later.

"Sir, with all due respect, I think Flight Officer Lionheart should be more trusted than she was four months ago. She is a competent pilot and she never questioned my orders or of any other officer's orders here at the CRS Concordia, during her stay here..." Auron paused. "Also, I think that if you trust me then you should trust Flight Officer Lionheart. Due to my recent recovery from amnesia, I'd expect that at the eyes of the intelligence personnel I'm a security risk, because they don't know if my head was tampered with. If that is your only reason, then maybe you should place her and Flight Officer Strife on the Black Hawks, because Wing Commander Vermollen is someone you trust better than me. But if I'm not mistaken, you also trust your nephew, Colonel Turkamen, leader of the Commandos on the Concordia."

The Admiral sighed. "Perhaps... But Wing Commander Vermolen was granted personal choice over her own pilots that formed her squadron. Besides, after what our intelligence came up with on Aeris Strife and Tifa Lionheart, we considered placing them together as it is easier to follow up and keep an eye on. But I will consider your proposal," the Admiral promised with a nod. He then walked towards a monitor. "Meet me in the briefing room in twenty minutes. You are dismissed, Commander."

"Yes, Sir!" Auron saluted and saw that the admiral retrieved the salute. Then, Auron exited and made his way towards the briefing room.

***

A few minutes later, in the briefing room, the Admiral looked upon those who filled the room. There stood Commander Ellemiek Vermolen of the Black Hawks, Commander Auron Ronso who was the newly appointed CO of the Wild Cards, Lieutenant-Commander Doz Wo Stath of the Kondor Squadron and Colonel Turkamen of the Commandos aboard the Concordia. There was also Vyn Kether and Adam Edwards, who were civilians, but who the Admiral had requested to be there still.

"Thank you for being here..." the Admiral commenced, then touching a control he held on his hand. There was an image on the center of a projector that showed a space station. "This is the Space Station known as Underworld. It is currently in the service of the Imperial Remnants, and namely of Moff Gustalv, who was responsible for the attack on the SD Starlight that was lost to us, and which you went to search for as you know..." he told them.

The Admiral then paused for a while and continued. "I have received information that this outpost is perhaps the main outpost for Moff Gustalv's activities, so we are supposed to destroy it. However, we already know that there are also three Star Destroyers protecting it, as well as the Station's defenses. There will be more support this time, and you will not be going in alone. Colonel Turkamen will provide you with ground support on the Station itself as they will be boarding it. Also, there will be an MC80a Mon Calamari Star Cruiser going along to provide with extra fire power and an emergency Starfighter Squadron. We don't want the same mistakes as last time..." he told them.

The Admiral waited for a few seconds and then turned to Adam Edwards and Vyn Kether. "I must thank you for your support so far, but I must ask you for your help once more. You see, in order to insert our commandos into the Station, we will be needing to do it fast and in maneuverable transports. Transports such as those you pilot. Your fees would be met, of course."

"Of course... I'm always willing to lend a hand. I've heard of this Moff Gustalv. He's bad news, but also very smart... So we shouldn't underestimate him. For this mission I'm going to have to request a full restock on my weapons and a full crew... although I prefer flying alone, a full crew aboard will boost the ship's capabilities ten-fold," Vyn responded.

"I agree with Vyn," Adam said. "More men assigned to our ships would boast their effectiveness, and give us a better chance of getting in and out safely."

"I can provide you with that much," the Admiral nodded to both Vyn and Adam. "That will be no problem at all. I can also accommodate with repairs for your ships and any extra work they might be needing. All that will be provided by our hangar maintenance crew!" he promised.

Auron sighed and nodded. "There is something bothering me. We all know that space stations, ships and some planet bases can scan the life forms inside transports or any other ship. The station will have that same equipment and they will be able to detect two transports full of life forms. Won't that make them suspicious?"

Kyra, who was seated near the entrance, got up and walked near Auron. "Yes, that is true, Commander Ronso. They would be suspicious if they noticed two transports full of life forms, but I assure you they won't."

"How so?" Ellemiek asked. "I mean, I've heard of some ways to avoid those scans, namely through the use of some materials that can mask whatever they bring in them, but I don't see how we can mask a full crew. It would take the whole ship to be wrapped in them, and that wouldn't make it possible for them to fly at all!" she commented.

"That will not be the case. The New Republic has hired someone to infiltrate Underworld. This person will adjust the scanners so they detect the pilot and the co-pilot and nothing more, so we are safe there." Kyra sat again and looked so serious that Auron was somewhat surprised since he had never seen her looking that way.

"Who's the contact?" Vyn inquired.

"Her name is Taja West. All of you will see her picture while en route to Underworld, so don't worry."

"What about their fighter classes. Do we know how many they have and what we're up against?" Ellemiek asked Kyra.

"We estimate about three to five squadrons. We're not sure of the number of squadrons in the Underworld space station," Kyra answered, while exchanging some looks with Ellemiek.

"You are talking about 360 fighters. This can be a worse scenario than the last mission!" Auron said straight away.

"It is a worse scenario than the last mission!" Kyra stated. "The Mon Calamari have a total of 4 squadrons, which is about 48 fighters, plus the Black Hawks, the Wild Cards and the Kondor squadrons. We're going to have a total of 84 fighters. It's a 4 to 1 scenario. It's going to be very ugly for us, but to avoid the worst possible scenario we're sending the Turkeman Commandos. They are going to conquer the most important hangars on Underworld and move from there."

"But how do you know that our transports land on those correct hangars?" Doz asked has she inclined forward in her seat.

"Once again, Taja will shut down some of the hangars for repairs. The three main hangars will still be functioning. A third transport will approach the smaller hangar of the three and will tell them it is malfunctioning. That should cause great confusion while Vyn and Adam's transports land on the other two hangars." Kyra stopped as if she was finished and then realized that she had forgotten to tell them something. "Oh, I forgot, mixed with the commandos we're going to send a few pilots and technicians to steal some of the TIE's on those hangars, and they will go to the capital ship that is on stand by. Once they arrive, those fighters will have a quick paint job and will fly out to help the squadrons."

"But if we're boarding the station, the Capital Ships they have standing by will pick up our transports in no time, and they will get the fact that we steal the TIEs on those hangars!" Ellemiek stated. "They'd have to be blind to miss that much! And while I can see it provides us with extra starfighters, I don't think we will be granted the chance to get those starfighters anywhere close to their capital ships!"

"Still, it may create a confusion on their scanners to have their own starfighters against them. While it may be known to them that we have them under our own control, they will still have a hard time figuring on which are theirs and which are not," the Admiral said.

"I can see it's our very best shot, but we're still up against the odds, in a one to four fight, with one capital ship on our side against three on theirs! And we still haven't counted in the turbolaser batteries on the station itself..." Ellemiek commented.

"My team will seize the station as fast as possible, and we will either seize down the station's defenses or have them blow up!" Colonel Turkamen stated.

Ellemiek nodded towards the Colonel, acknowledging his comment, which sounded more like a promise. She gave a look around the table and sighed. "Do we know how many men they have on their station at this time? How many imperial stormtroopers?" she asked, just to know how many men the Colonel was up against.

Kyra looked heavily towards Ellemiek. "Not sure about that. We estimate 300 stormtroopers or less."

"That's four to one odds..." the Colonel said. "I think we can cope with that. Besides, their forces will be scattered while we do a quick in and out job on them."

"How big is the station exactly?" Ellemiek asked.

"The station has about fifty levels. In the eventual case of four to one odds, you will have help from the local prisoners that Taja will release," Kyra said as she saw Auron had questions.

"That is interesting really, but you didn't tell us who is flying the third transport," Auron stated more than he questioned.

Kyra glanced for a mere second towards the Admiral and then looked back to Auron. "Well, the person who is going to fly the third transport will be all alone. In case that hangar happens to be guarded that person has to stand alone against the stormtroopers there."

"So, you're saying that not only that person has to be insane to pilot a transport and look like the transport has a malfunction, which is almost impossible to fake, but that person has to be insane enough to charge against a squad of stormtroopers? One question, where are you going to find someone that crazy?" Corey asked.

Kyra smiled. "You said it correctly. It is almost impossible to fake that, and that is why we are going to make damage on that transport. So, this person has to be out of his mind, if not only completely insane! That person has to have some sort of brain damage..." Kyra paused. "That is why I'm that insane person."

"Well, if you're leading a transport, at least take some backup with you!" Ellemiek suggested. "A few men at the very least! Even if your ship is scanned, you can have them pose as your crew. You'll stand a much better chance if you do so."

"Yes I would, but the men going with me would have to hold their breath for an hour, which I doubt that they can, since the ship will be depressurized. I only have one environmental suit on the ship and we can't put in an extra one, because the stormtroopers will see that they are New Republic. Also, I'm planning on having some corpses inside."

Auron was somewhat rebellious about this, but he kept quiet. He wanted to protest, but Auron knew that this was a volunteer job, and since Kyra was impossible to talk out of anything once her mind was set to it, there was nothing he could do.

"I thought you said that their scanners weren't going to be functioning up to that level of extent..." Ellemiek said. "If they can scan your cargo, they can also scan the other ships' cargo, namely Vyn's and Adam's."

"Taja will only jam their scanners when my ship causes the trouble. That is when Vyn and Adam's transports will move in, and once they are inside, your fighters and our capital ship will move for the attack. Then, the station's weapons will turn to the Star Destroyers, when they have their backs to the station..." Kyra paused and glanced at Ellemiek and grinned.

The Admiral stood up. "Do you have any questions?"

"I can only answer for myself, but I believe all my questions have been answered. I only hope this Taja woman can pull her part of the deal off, because if she doesn't we'll be in a very serious and very tight situation!" Ellemiek stated.

A silence ensued from that moment, causing discomfort among everyone in the room. Vyn stood up straight from leaning up against the wall and walked forward.

"When do we start?" asked Vyn, breaking the awkward silence.

The Admiral nodded. "You have two hours to report to your ships. You will all travel to Telos, where the MCC Galleon will be waiting for you. Once there, they will appoint you your respective quarters. Your trip to the Alderaan System will take about three days, so take time there to make your final adjustments on your ships and weapons. I want all of you be prepared for any kind of situation!" The Admiral looked for any kind of questions that they might still have, but he saw that there were no questions left. "Dismissed."

All people got up and walked through the exit. The Admiral glanced towards Auron. "Commander Ronso, I'd like to have a word with you, in private."

Auron approached the Admiral and stood in front of him. "Yes, sir?"

"I have considered your request from earlier today... I have also talked to Colonel Turkamen about this and he seems willing to take her on his squad. Thus being said, Tifa is now supposed to report to the Commandos from now on," the Admiral said. "I hope to have made the right decision here, Commander."

"I hope so too, sir," Auron replied.

"Dismissed," the Admiral nodded, as he gave Auron a salute and sent him off.

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