Star Wars Star Wars - Episode VII - Visions of Peace (a Non-EU Game)

Eyran Holst
Naboo, The House of Holst

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The House of Holst was a villa near the Government district of Theed. It was close enough to the trade-centers, not far away from the spaceport, but in the reach of the rather tight and disciplined security that protected the Queen and her home. In short, it was in the best part of town. This was where the rich lived.
The family of Holst were not terribly rich, but that only meant they were living in a much smaller estate than many of their neighbours. The fact Eyran was a successful trader secured the family their high standard of living and luxury. Therefore the Holst´s had never been a friend of rebellions. They were bad for business. But even worse were dead Emperor´s. Blockades, battles, borders closed. Eyran had very reason for concern and he left nobody a chance to escape his long, long speech about the shame it was what had happened to the poor Emperor. That they were having dinner with all the family and some friends at the dinner table made little difference to him.

For Nyla there was only one redeeming element about the whole thing at that night. Her best friend since childhood Griffen was there, as was Griffen´s dead. Her father had invited many traders and freighter-captains of Theed and while he was tireless speaking about the need to support the Empire in these dark times. Griffen´s Dad was not in agreement. He saw opportunities in the rising Alliance and remembered the old days of free commerce. They would discuss all night. Griffen knew that. Nyla, too. So Griffen just shot a glance at the right moment and the two sneaked out to meet outside in the garden.

“By the Gods, I always think they duel and whoever falls asleep first from the tiring arguments has lost!” Griffen had grown into a young, attractive Nabooian. Therefore they could only meet on such occasions. Nyla´s mother was concerned about any potential romantic attachments between her daughter and the boy. A bit strange, considering everybody else always joked about them being a “strategic alliance” by their Dads. Today Griffen indeed seemed changed though. Happy, as if a burden had fallen from his heart he seemed to dance through life. “What do they know about the Empire, hm? Seriously. If the Emperor had wanted them to spend their nights discussing him, he would probably not have forbidden political debate in public around here, right?”

Griffen laughed and slendered a bit into the garden.

“Nyla?! NYLA!” The voice of Nyla´s mother came from the house, shouting for her as if she was a twelve year old. “By the Gods, we´re grown ups!” Griffen just sighed and rolled his eyes. “I need to show you something. You think you can leave without asking Mummy?” Griffen grinned and looked at the gate of the family estate.

Tag: Ktala






Laki
Naboo, The Streets of Theed

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the Streets of Naboo had been empty. The rumor of the Empire coming to occupy the planet made people cautious and afraid.

Dorian had no problems coming to the usual meeting point, their favourite half-abandoned trader-warehouse.

No, problems started, when he got there.



“Dammit, that is so much fun, it´s no fun at all.” Laki shook his head. The tall Zabrak was pretty much the leader of the group, but tonight he was nervous. Hiding out in warehouse 44-8 was usually the beginning of a promising night. The Holst´s barely ever used the warehouse nowadays, but tonight there was quite some activity. Actually it looked as if a ship had landed here. Despite the Empire´s ban of all starship-tracking, there was a ship right there in the middle of the huge hall.

The boys were hiding behind some boxes and watched in awe, as the huge ship was standing there.

Laki was there and with him was Onder, their dark skinned friend from the poor quarters. He eagerly tried to get a spot at the outlook, where between two boxes you could actually get a glimpse at the ship.
Alisa was a lot cooler. Laki´s Twi´lek girlfriend stood next to Dario and sighed. She was an exotic dancer at the club and actually was a bit too mature for all of them, but for some reason she hung out with them. Well, on days like this these reasons became painfully apparent. She had a weakness fpr stupidities. “Actually that´s an Eta-class. Nice little ship, certainly.” She walked over to Laki and threw her arms around him. The Zabrak stood up immediately to give his girl all of his attention and Onder got a good look at the ship.
“Well, if I see that thing, I actually got only one question . . . “ Onder turned to the others with a huge grin and then he prposed what would have been the greatest thing they had ever pulled of today . . . he implied it to be more exact.

“Can any of you fly?” And his grin grew broader and broader.


Tag: @Raynar_Tedros





Oson Calrissian
Coruscant, 1313

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Deep beneath the surface of Coruscant on Level 1313 the law was in the hands oft he strong and no imperial presence was felt down here. Basically a world of it´s own, 1313 had remained unchanged for decades. It was a perfect way to hide and meet for those wanted by the Empire, even if it was right under the Emperor´s nose.

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It was therefore not the most surprising place for a certain legendary pirate to turn up again and nobody was surprised when he had called the best of the best down there to discuss business. Yet, it was a surprise that among these was a former imperial General. Harrison had received the message when he had thought nobody would find him and the summoning had been polite but simple, not stating a lot about the purpose of such meeting except “the chance to change the galaxy” was what he was offered. Nothing more. Nothing less.

When he arrived at the club it was still rather empty therefore. A few Gamorreans gambled, a group of Gran provided security and a single human was sitting in the corner of the room, eyeing it constantly with the gaze of a man who had been hunted all his life and survived all his hunters. Oson Calrissian was a legend among pirates. Even the Empire with all it´s might had never captured him and they had lost two Star Destroyers hunting him. But in the last 10 years he had vanished, many had considered him dead. Now he had a drink on 1313 and met an ex-Imperial General. The final of his meetings. And whatever Oson Calrissian planned, it had be big to lure him out of retirement.

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“You look taller than your hologram.” That was all he said when Harrison approached him. “Sit, please.” He offered a spot next to him to the Ex-General. “I got a proposition for you. And believe me, there will be a lot to talk about, before we part . . . as partners or not.”

Tag: @Jedi General Gelderd

 

Captain Bate, Moff Chanderous Mole
Bridge of the ISD Relentless, Above Chigrance


It was a spectacle one should not have missed. Six Star Destroyer above Admiral Torrey´s home planet and panicking Moff as a background hologram screaming orders nobody followed anymore.
Captain Bate nodded and a second series of bursts erupted from the Relentless turbo-laser batteries. “Their shields are failing, Sir.” He reported faithfully. With “the shields” he referred to the shields of Moff Chanderous Mole´s fortress down on Chigrance, the name giving planet of the Chigrance-system, an isolated group of planets which had almost been completely drained of resources by the Empire and the hungry Moff´s who had ruled here. Mole had been the worst, even selling people, convicted criminal´s he said, as slaves to unknown buyers. But one son of Chigrance had returned now and with him six loyal ships under his command. And it had taken only two high powered blasts to bring the Moff´s sense of security . . . and the shields of his castle to the breaking point.

“You will immediately cease fire! Captain, I relief the Admiral of his command and order you to arrest him immediately. No, execute him, do you here me? Execute . . . “ Bate pushed a button and the angry fat hologram vanished. The young Captain sighed and smiled to his mentor and superior.

“One more barrage of turbo-laser fire and there is no way back, Sir.” He nodded and looked down to the violet atmosphere of Chigrance. “Do you wish to give the order yourself?”

Tag: Splinterthemindseye_







And last but not least . . .

Lt. Commander Soresh
Alphideres

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The vast, empty desert of ice was all that was there. Alphideres was a dead planet, a long dead planet. Even the last of it´s original inhabitants had been hunted to extinction, the bombardment of the Empire leaving the planet in a new iceage. Ice covered anything. It had eaten the planet alive.




In this desert of nothingness Anasi had been for years now, accompanied only by a few worthless clones to patrol the glaciers for smugglers. Desolate got a new meaning here. Yet, finally . . . after all those month a shuttle arrived and a young Imperial Officer left it and made his way straight towards her. “Anasi? I am Lt. Comander Soresh. Grand Moff Kalt sends me with a message.” He yelled over the howling wind to the girl sitting in the snow. His eyes shielded he tried to get a good look at her. “The time has come.” He stated the message and stomped on the ground a bit to warm he feet.

Tag: DarkLordoftheFins

 

IC: Lieutenant Samantha Irisa, B-Wing Black Two
Location: Cerea


Irisa peered out the canopy at the twinkling lights of the battle far ahead, star destroyer-scale turbolasers and point defenses raining green death, and the short-lived blossoms of fire that were the destroyed starfighters of either side.

She watched with a mixture of feeling.

Surprise, and not a little grateful, to be asked by Commander Test himself, to join him for this engagement, but then pilots willing and capable of flying these Slayn and Korpil creations, did not grow on trees.

Two days ago, her starfighter had been intercepted fleeing the battle zone, the rescue crews finding her unconcious at the controls.

She knew it had been the destruction of the Death Star, the millions of lives lost aboard it, hitting her mind at once.

From the point of view of her fellows and superiors, it was easy to rationalise that it coudn't count as dereliction or cowardice, since she had already participated in the attack on the Imperial communications ship, and Home One's battle computers had several kills assigned to her.

Still, she wouldn't have been surprised to have at least been sidelined to a desk role pending further enquiries.

“Black leader to squadron. S-foils into position. Looks like the Rogues are breaking through.”

Test's words were the salve to her worries. She flipped up the switches with her right hooked index finger, and heard the servos through the ship as the heavy s-foils split open like a flower, one of those fleshy, no-nonsense orchids that ate flies.

She smiled at the thought.

“Ready, Black Two?"

The questioning tone had her instinctively glance left to see the Flight Commander looking at her from his own cockpit! How long had been watching?

Irisa hit her own interlink. "Ready, Sir."

"We will take lead on this.” She saw him straighten in the cockpit, and took that as her cue to run tests on her weapons, the R-9X heavy laser cannon, twin autoblasters, and her payload of Krupx MG9 proton torpedo. She felt a familiarity with that last ordnance, her own ship, the Detective Wyms packing the same heat.

All systems are green, she confirmed silently for her own benefit, looking at the column of green lit squares. Aloud she acknowledged, "Copy, Black Leader."

“We go straight for the shield generators on top of the Iron Hammer.”

"Copy." She had already performed a telesponder check on the two destroyers, and knew which one he meant. She dialled up the rest of the squadron as, on their left, the A-Wings of Blue Squadron banked past to preceded them into the Fun Zone. "Black Flight. Black Two. Lead and I will take point, and we're going for the Iron Hammer's shield generators. We're going in two by two, to hide our numbers..."

"Yeah, because that worked so well for the Sandpeople." One of the team stole her punchline, to chuckles over the comm.

The humour helped. A lot. Irisa felt ready, and on top of the world. In this case, Cerea.

For her own targeting computer, a cross-haired double circle lazily spun towards and settled over the 'Hammer's generator globes and lit up green. When in weapon range and locked, it would go red.

Straightening in her seat with the new confidence, she looked again at Test. "Black Lead'. Black Two. Ready whenever you are."

"Hoo-rarr!" Oh yeah, that was Black Four.

Tag: Sirak

 

Grand Moff Ebon Kalt
SSD Vengeance, Above Vandelhelm

Slowly he turned around to answer the question of his Admiral.

“Sorry, I haven´t listened. I was too busy hearing the cacophony of voices desperately trying to appear dedicated and strong, who turned into most beautiful and disturbing symphony of helplessness and despair when heard together. Sometimes the ture beauty of such a thing only reveals itself, when you distance yourself from it, you understand?” He looked around and saw the puzzled faces. “Probably not.” He smirked and turned around, silencing any interruptions with a raised hand.
“A crippling blow. That is what they call our beloved Emperor´s death. A crippling blow. You know what that indicates? We are cripples, unable to defend ourselves, to act or react against our healthy foe the Rebellion. Well, even some of our own seemed to have left their flock to stand alone out there. So be it. This is the time when the weak and the strong are separated and ultimately the strong will annihilate the weak.” He paused a moment for everybody to realize their Emperor might not have been one of the strong, actually. Then he continued his words calm and confident, his hand underlining them with concentrated gestures. He wanted everybody to understand what he had to say now.
“Three things we will do now. Three things.” He spit out the words.

Heput his hand up and raised one finger. “First, we will consolidate and weaken our enemy.” Again a pause. “Retreat all imperial presence in the lower Outer Rim to Vandelhelm, secure all strongpoints with half these ships, bring all others here to prepare for stage three of our plan.” He looked around and then added. “This is not a defeat, but only a tactical step in the necessary crusade to get all of the galaxy back under control. By giving them more planets they need to spread their already stretched resources even further. While we regain the ability to crush any of their single fleets or planets. Which is actually what I plan to do.”

He put up his hand and raised a second finger. “Two. We must deal with traitors on the lower and higher level. The Emperor has been betrayed. I want those who did this to die. I will command all units to report back to me as the highest ranking Imperial at this point in time. Whoever does not report back in 24 hours will be branded a traitor and is a legitimate target.”

He raised the third finger, allowing the words before once more to sink in. “Three.” He said then and sighed, leaning back. “The upper and lower Outer rim is in turmoil, sympathizers of the Alliance celebrating our defeat and planets declaring independence. We must show them, that such actions have consequences. Admiral Pest, how many ships we have as an operative fleet if we upkeep the defenses and strike immediately.” He turned to the other two present Admirals. “Admiral Torel, Admiral Flask? A list of potential high-profile targets both in the higher and lower Outer Rim? I want to hit something that will hurt the Alliance, something that they will never, ever forget.” He leaned back, but his eyes went to the most promising of the pack. The young Crachta was ambitious. And Kalt´s cold eyes signaled him, this could be his moment. If he only could deliver the promise of having a heart of ice.

With a nod he allowed the soldiers to speak again. No, he demanded htem to answer his questions. Opinions were irrelevant. Grand Moff Kalt needed answers.

Tag: SirakRomar

 

Dario Bastion
Naboo, The Streets of Theed

Dario had a funny feeling about today. It wasn't a particularly bad feeling, or good. Just a strange one, as if he felt that something different was going to happen, a situation that neither he nor his friends had ever encountered before. The presence of a starship in the middle of their hideout was just the beginning.

"Dammit, that is so much fun, it's no fun at all," Laki exclaimed. Dario didn't necessarily agree with that last part. Finally something different, something that they didn't expect. Lately things were beginning to become rote. This threw a wrench in that, and Dario liked it. He just wasn't sure what to do about it yet.

He was standing next to Alisa, an entrancing Twi'lek dancer whom Dario found extremely attractive. But of course she was off limits, as her affections belonged to Laki. So he was relegated to simply being her good friend, not that that kept him from appreciating her beauty when neither she nor Laki were looking.

"Actually that's an Eta-class," she explained as the group looked on. "Nice little ship, certainly." She walked over to Laki and threw her arms around her Zabrak boyfriend, and Dario shook his head and moved his gaze back to the mysterious ship. Their public displays of affection were often sickening, rousing jokes and teases from Dario and Onder. But they didn't have time to mess around today. Today was something else.

Onder spoke up. "Well, if I see that thing, I actually got only one question... Can any of you fly?"

Dario thought back to several years ago when he'd stolen his dad's personal cruiser and took it on a joyride for an hour or so before he was caught by the local authorities. He'd picked up the controls pretty quickly, and they weren't so difficult. Surely this ship wouldn't be tough to handle either? The trick was actually getting into it, though, without drawing any attention from the personnel gathered around it. That wasn't a situation that was unfamiliar to Dario.

"I can fly her," Dario spoke up, looking to Onder and then to Laki. "I'll do it."

Tag: SirakRomar

 

Jedi Master Yan Dookuu

Aboard Serenno III, Serenno​

The Jedi Master had been alone, lost in his thoughts minutes after leaving the quarters he had commandeered for himself, quarters that once belonged to the captain of the diplomatic cruiser, which his servant had acquired for him, but now had given up with a simple application of the Force. He was Jedi Master Dooku but was frustratingly aware he had a difficulty pronouncing his own name which always came out as Doo-que, something which he attributed to the chronic hibernation sickness that he has long suffered. He had no memory of being frozen or waking up from such a slumber, but then again he had no memory of most of his life prior to the freezing either. Snippets would return to him, confuse him and reassure him at the same time but they were his memories, he was certain of it even if the Force was not.​

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One such memory surfaced then and he cherished it, for it had been from a time when he had been happier and with an outlook on life that bordered on over-eagerness and excitement. He had been newly Knighted and selected his first padawan, a boy by the name of Qui-Gon Jinn. The Force was strong in the child and he knew that the boy would elevate him officially to Master, his own eagerness at being selected flooding over into the newly formed bond and making him equally as eager to teach. But then the memory became tainted as another surfaced of the youngling being fully grown and older than his own master. Dookuu knew he should not have that memory of the padawan that he had been training and yet, here it was. It confused him and he tried to reason that it was a fake memory, planted into him by those who had frozen him. Yet the Force told him it was truth and that confused him even more.​

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Dookuu snapped his eyes open, the anger of his own suffering burning brightly in his dark eyes. He had sworn long ago when Emperor Palpatine found him, that he would have his revenge against those who had stolen his life. Someone had frozen him and replaced him with a clone, who would then later go on and destroy his reputation, wear his face and name and wage war upon the institution he had loved. That same war saw to his own brethren betraying their oaths and ultimately raining destruction down upon them all. He would have been a victim of the newly created Empire's wrath himself if Emperor Palpatine had not taken pity on him and saw he was guiltless of his Order's crime.​

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He had then told the lost Jedi Master that he had been found frozen in a carbonite block within the deepest bowels of the Temple's dungeon and suspected that his own Order, the High Council, had arranged for his imprisonment. Dookuu had not wanted to believe the benevolent Emperor that he had been betrayed by the High Council, but there was no other explanation as to who had him frozen. He still held out hope that it had been someone else, a rival Jedi perhaps, who had succeeded in deceiving the Order and locking him away for over sixty years. But once more the Force tried to reason with him that he had been deceived, not by the Jedi but by the very man who claimed to have rescued him. He, of course, ignored that reasoning. Palpatine had turned out to be a friend and one knowledgeable in the Force, but not the Jedi Way. It never occurred to him to suspect that the aging Emperor was a darksider, the very idea unfathomable to his mind.​

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To him, the Emperor was the perfect being to bring order to the chaos that was within the galaxy. He was the being he had longed and hoped for that would rise up and take control, stamping out the corruption within the Republic and putting an end to the free reign of the criminals and of the sick and twisted that existed in the universe. His only regret and displeasure was the man's right hand man, Lord Vader. No matter how much Palpatine tried to persuade him that Vader only had the best interest of the galaxy in mind, his training as a Jedi prevented him from seeing the Sith Lord as a protector of the galaxy and the Empire. He had warned that the Sith would one day betray him and steal the throne, but Palpatine felt confident and assured that he had Vader's loyalty.​

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But now the Emperor was dead and Dookuu suspected Vader had a hand in the great man's death.​

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Twenty years of loyalty meant nothing without Palpatine and the Jedi Master felt uncertainty as to his own future. Very few knew he existed and even those who did, knew whose face he wore and accused him of being the clone. The very thought of the idea of his entire life being nothing but a lie and being created and born in a cloning tube infuriated him to the very core of his being—it did not change things that he could recall vague memories of a pristine white world and long-necked aliens—and always banished such thoughts from his mind whenever they surfaced. So he would feel insulted, even slighted in such a way that he dared to risk the Emperor's own wrath as he took out his anger on the person who would dare insinuate that he was the clone. Palpatine never accused him of such a blasphemy and always reassured him that he was indeed the real Yan Dooku, treated him as a real being and a friend but never patronized him. The Emperor had even gone as far as to have one person removed from service for calling the Jedi Master a clone.​

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Such generosity and kindness had further deepened his loyalty to Palpatine even though the man had already earned it the day he had found him. He had sworn an oath to serve the Emperor and the Empire to the best of his ability and to his very last breath. It did not matter that his brethren had been all slain by the Empire at the Emperor's command, they had chosen their fate by trying to assassinate the man and take over the Republic. Loyalty was a necessity of one's being, without it there would be corruption and anarchy in both one's self and those all around them. Loyalty was a core quality to Dookuu's own being, even long before he had been frozen, he had been loyal. Loyal to his master Yoda, loyal to his creche-mates and especially to Jocasta, loyal to the Jedi Way and the Force, loyal to the Order that had raised and taught him and loyal to the Republic that he had served and protected.​

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Only through betrayal on their part would he in turn betray them and everything else associated with them, and that was why he never bothered to avenge the Jedi Order. They had betrayed their oaths and the Republic and ultimately in the end, they had betrayed him. Even Palpatine's suggestion that they were the ones who imprisoned him was enough to justify his reasoning for continued disloyalty towards them all. Although it pained him to know that he was the last living Jedi in the galaxy, their betrayal was not enough for him to disregard the idea of restarting the Order. He had plans but none of which he could initiate while Vader lived. The man had been responsible for the destruction of the Jedi Order, another reason why he hated the Sith so much, even went as far to suspect that the Sith was responsible for the Order's betrayal; thus to make an attempt in rebuilding the Order in the presence of the Sith would have been futile. Vader would have seen to it that it never succeeded and wipe out any of the new Jedi, including himself should the Sith ever discover him.​

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Palpatine knew of his desire to restart the Order and it was he who had cautioned against doing it while the Sith were in power. It had been he who had persuaded him those very same reasons that convinced Dookuu to wait. He was younger than Vader and had good bloodlines, he knew he would out live the Sith Lord for many decades to come provided he was cautious and careful with his own continued well-being. He also knew that the Sith would train an apprentice and Dookuu was confident he could remove any such apprentice from power by turning Palpatine against any such being. But Vader had yet to train an apprentice as far as Dookuu knew, however if he was not aware of one, then neither would the rest of the Empire and like he, the Sith apprentice would have difficulty obtaining power for himself and the throne.​

But unlike the Sith apprentice, Dookuu was confident that he would have the throne. He was a servant of the Emperor himself, an invisible sentinel and a shadow. He took the missions that Lord Vader could not for the simple fact that the man was either too busy playing Supreme Commander or that it required a more subtler approach where Vader's temperament and appearance would simply work against him or the Emperor simply could not trust the Sith Lord with whatever task needed done. Because of this, Dookuu had created a network of influence within the Empire, people who needed to know of his existence knew him or of him, had come to associate his arrival as a foreboding omen for either themselves or someone he was after.​

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He was ruthless and efficient in his servitude to the Emperor despite the bouts of madness that occasionally gripped him. He always blamed his darker tendencies on the madness, but felt no remorse in his actions. Palpatine had even offered to help him with it, teaching him how to control the dark emotions that wanted to surface and turn it into a power that he could weld and better serve the Emperor with. With such training, the madness surfaced less frequently, or so he believed, and he felt he was in control and could function properly. But there were still those moments he became aware of his madness, but far too late to stop himself. In those moments he doubted himself and began to question his worth and his right to be called a Jedi, even his plans to restore the Order came in to question. For what right did he have to bring back the guardians of the galaxy if he could not control himself completely?​

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It frustrated him immensely and to the point that when he was not serving the Emperor's Will, he secluded himself on his homeworld of Serenno and within the ancient walls of his family's ancestral home. He would meditate and seek the Force's guidance and he would grow angry at it's whispers and the conflicting memories, screaming at no one and nothing in particular that it was all lies and he knew who he and what he was. He would then shove the memory of his tantrum to the deepest bowels of his mind and forget about it.​

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Or at least he would try to.​

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There was another side-effect to his madness and it manifested in the form of his former apprentice, Qui-Gon Jinn. The illusion, as he had come to believe, would appear to him as a blue manifestation of a Force spirit and tried to reason with him, claiming to help him find who he was and regain control of his mind. But not once did it ever acknowledge him as his master, not once did it ever call him Dooku, not once did it ever claim that he was not a clone. Dookuu would argue with the illusion, denying the ghostly figure's claims and ignoring the wisdom it tried to convey to him, until the illusion vanished and left him in peace.​

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It was worse when the voice of his dead apprentice would whisper in his head. Sometimes he wondered if the madness would drive him mad, if such a thing was even possible.​

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Then, suddenly, he recollected that he was somewhere else other than his estate and he was not alone. The fury that burned in his dark eyes smoldered to a dying ember as his gaze flicked around the bridge in search of the interloper he recalled having spoken to him while he was lost in his thoughts and meditation. Dookuu found the perpetrator sitting at the controls, attentive in his duty but nervously so and waiting for his master to come out of his trance-like madness and acknowledge him. The cloned Jedi Master considered for a moment to just let him sit there waiting for the rest of his life, but pushed aside the cruel idea in favor of curiosity. Gilad never bothered him unless it was important.​

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The mad Jedi allowed a small grin to grace his otherwise harsh, aquiline features as he considered the major for a moment. The man had originally been assigned to him as his keeper. He knew why such a thing was needed. He was a Jedi and despite his oaths, there were those—those who knew of him—who did not trust him and no doubt persuaded the Emperor to have him watched just in case. He had balked at the idea at first and nearly frightened the man to death in the first few months, but eventually warmed to the officer's presence, even welcomed it on occasion. It was lonely in his family's estate, being the last of his line and the other Houses refusing to acknowledge him as a Dooku, he was lucky if his family friends contacted him at all. He had only his family servants for company and they made poor company nonetheless. They would only talk to him if he initiated the conversation otherwise it was “Yes, your Grace” or “No, your Grace” and that made for poor conversation and had the tendency to drive a man out of his mind.​

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But not Gilad.​

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He was not a nobleman's servant and therefore had not been trained nor bred to behave in such a manner expected of a servant. Once he got over his initial fear of him, in which Dookuu had helped him through a subtle application of the Force, the man proved to be good company and made the lonelier days bearable. Alas it had only lasted for a few years before Gilad had succumbed to his manipulation and became nothing more than an obedient servant, one that desired to please more so than any other servant. Dookuu regretted, however, the experiments he had performed on the man's mind and wished he could reverse it. He had liked Gilad in the beginning, but not now. He was useful to a degree and would talk with him, but was otherwise nearly as mindless as the clone soldiers he hated so much.​

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It had pleased him when he learned Gilad had killed two of them in acquiring the Serenno III. Two less murderers watching him. He was aware of the command the clones were compelled to obey and was always wary that one of them would apply it to him despite the Emperor's pardon that was granted to him. If it would not be treasonous to the Empire and the throne, he would have them all destroyed, but regrettably it was.​

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“What is it, Gilad?” he finally broke the silence that hung heavily in the air, his baritone voice resonating in the otherwise empty bridge.​

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“Conflicting orders, Master. The Advisory Council calls all forces available to Coruscant. But I received a message from Grand Moff Kalt that all forces of the Empire shall gather at Vandehelm.” The major looked over his shoulder at the tall, graceful Jedi Master behind him. “Your orders, Sir?” he asked and Dookuu could sense the man's unspoken request to have the decision taken from him.​

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The clone furrowed his dark eyebrows into a scowl at the conflicting commands. Where to go and who to answer to? The latter was easy to answer. He answered to the Emperor, but since the man was dead he therefore answered to the Throne itself and who thus commanded from the Throne in the absence or death of the Emperor? As much as he hated to admit it, he now answered to the politicians that flocked around the Emperor for the meager morsels of power the great man would dole out to each of them. The fact that this Grand Moff Kalt was calling loyalists to himself instead of to Coruscant to support the Advisory Council and their choice of successor, suggested that the man was out for the Throne himself and was willing to split the Empire in two to do it.​

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Dookuu's look darkened at the thought of the Empire splitting further down the seem that the rebellion had been whittling away at for the last decade. It would not do to have the military seize power. He would not see Palpatine's empire turn into a military dictatorship with some power-hungry Moff at it's head. The Emperor had foreseen his empire lasting for a thousand years and with a Force sensitive sitting upon the Throne. That was why Vader was his heir despite the man being a Sith Lord. He was the only other Force sensitive who shared in Palpatine's views, but with both of them gone all that remained of those who qualified was himself.​

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But he wore the face of a traitor despite being nearly forty years younger than the clone that had destroyed his life. Most people did not recognize him as the late-Count Dooku and even if they saw the resemblance, most discounted him as being nothing more than a relative or even possibly a son. In the beginning he had clung to that misconception to protect himself. People were still bitter over the horrors of the Clone War and it would not have been in his best interest or continued good health to announce that he was the real Count Dooku. He also hated the fact that on some world's his effigy was burned in celebration.​

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However, despite the handicap of a reputation and a history that was not his own, he was still determined to carry out the plan he conceived the moment he had felt the Emperor and Lord Vader's deaths. He would take the great man's place upon the throne as the new Emperor and restore his name and reputation.​

​

But first he had to make a decision in the here and now.​

​

“Coruscant,” he finally answered the loyal major. “The Advisory Council must be made aware of our existence and the threat that Kalt poses to the sanctity of the Empire, if we are to save Palpatine's vision from the chaos of greed.”​

TAG: SirakRomar

I think that was the most fun I've ever had at writing a post for a character.

 

IC: Lando Calrissian
Home One, Above Endor

Most of what Admiral Ackbar and others had stated seemed about par for course. However, then Mon Mothma said, “If you are willing to serve the Alliance once more. I understand some of you considered this to be a temporary Alliance and after all you did, we can hardly ask anymore of you.”

Then her eyes rested on Lando and he felt an immediate sense that he was the odd one out in the group.

Lando thought of the battle of Endor it had been wonderful and terrible. The alliance had lost so many people, but they had prevailed against the odds. Lando was alive and well against all the odd even though right now Chewbacca was not happy with him. It was a great experience realizing that he and the crew aboard the falcon survived. He both wished he could do more and run to farthest reaches of the galaxy.

How far would he have to go to achieve the victory they wanted?

How much more could he sacrifice? How many lives did his decision hold in the balance?

Lando realized how terrible the burden everyone faced and what it really felt like to be hero to one side and be hated and despised by the other.

Lando smiled trying to cover the chaos going on inside him. Lando said, “I’m grateful that the alliance has made this breakthrough. It is not everyday people place trust in a man with past like mine.” Lando shot a glance at Han. Lando smiled then and said “Then again I could be wrong.“

Lando continued by saying, “Mon Mothma I will do my best at whatever you need me to do. I just hope I don’t have to go and blow up another death star.” Lando smiled and winked.

Tag: HanSolo29, Republic_Anvil, BLemelisk, Ramza, SirakRomar

 

IC: Potentate Sabagno
Subterrel, Mining Center

Meeting in secret like this had probably gone from an occasional occurrence to a more regular one now that he was the elected Potentate. Almost felt like dealing death sticks, the best place to do so without the narcs or authoritarians busting you was to do so in an open venue where you became part of the background noise. Here they were just that, and the Empire was literally hectares away enjoying the good life. Who would thought a simple night of reflection would of eventually led him here, to be a person of authority of an entire world? Certainly not himself, he had expected to merely be at best a medical administrator that saw patients through a private practice on the side that fateful night.

Now here he was listening to a man propose war with the Empire, and another abdicate for peaceful waiting to see what would come of the nascent Rebellion or Alliance now that they had struck a serious blow. One wanting to lunge forward, the other wanted a wait and see approach. He had to admit that neither was wholly appealing. Still the second made better use of laying out what the people of Subterrel truly had to offer in such an engagement, and it was disheartening. In truth they had some 'hidden' assets, but not enough to really turn the tables on the equations Lava was laying out. Something Orven seemed to not be taking well as he made a spirited remark in turn.

Shaking his head he walked to the transparasteel window and leaned against the sill, taking in the beauty of the mining complex. He had to admit he was proud of it, proud of a few holes in the ground and refineries belching smoke and fire into the sky. Odd, his younger self would of wanted nothing better but to leave such a place, but as the Minister of Labor and one who had medically treated and tended generations of the minors that made this he had become intertwined with it. Seeing their accomplishments as his own, their prosperity almost as a proud parent, and their oppression as a saddened one watching his family incarcerated. Something his wife seemed to foster in him, after all to her this was their children's heritage, what he now made of this world. Even if they weren't his biological children he had to admit that the buggers had grown on him and he did care now, more than he had at first.

That was another discussion, his wife so far had talked him out of leaving this world and taking their accounts to a new settlement somewhere. Still with two minister arguing two different points of view he had to admit he wondered if he had done the right thing listening to her. "Orven, how many ships would we lose to win against the Imperials? Even just half of our forces, a kind estimate, we couldn't defend ourselves against pirates anymore. What is freedom if we end up an easy snack for the Hutts or cartels could just own us in a small move? They hunger for something just as bad as the Rebellion now in seeing a vacuum, if they came first, we have traded one bad master for a worse one. Until you can find a more sure and secure way to lessen losses, we cannot afford to move now." With a heavy sigh he turned to look back at the pair of Ministers. "I'm sorry. Any luck on the ore management to create reserves for the future whichever way it turns?"

TAG: SirakRomar

 

Mas Amedda
The Throne Room, Imperial Palace, Coruscant

The Emperor was dead. His most trusted Advisors, his heir. They all had died with him. But what was an Empire iwthout an Emperor, Mas Amedda asked himself?

On the brink of civil war. The voice of his old Master answered and Mas Amedda had to shrug. Yes, his Master was right, even if he was nothing but echo within his mind. The Empire was on the brink of a civil war and many weapons would be used in this war. Information was one of them and he had an arsenal of informations. How many did know about the true nature of his Master? Few. How many knew how he ascended and what had been his plans? Even fewer. Who knew the secrets he knew? About his heir, about his secret schemes he had moved forward for many years. The Emperor had been a wise man. So wise, these so called Advisors were little but very specialized fools compared to him. Grand Vizier Aballeus was no exception there, but the Emperor´s dog held his own hand of informations to play them out in time. Secrets not even Mas may know about.

Then there was Teuka who ignored this play of Aballeus to get the Royal Guard behind him. Mas Amedda had foreseen this move and much depended on it, certainly.

“A heir, that is what they ask for. Yet, what would they do to such an heir should he really step forward, hm? Amedda, share your thoughts. Should we throw ourselves behind the Emperor´s dog?” Mas looked to the side and down on the old man. So he knew about the heir? Did he know more? Who it was? Maybe even the secrets Mas had been kept in the dark about? Where he was? “Or should we rather support Kalt? I heard he is already summoning a mighty fleet on Vandelhelm. What do we have so far? The Moff of Coruscant. A single Moff and his fleet against the might of a Grand Moff. Maybe it is time to rethink our positions, isn´t it?”

Grand Moff Eibon Kalt. That was another potent player in the game for the throne. He had something the Advisor´swere fighting for. Real power, military power and the authority and experience to wield it. If he destroyed the Alliance now, who would contest his claim for the Throne? Yet, the Rebellion had it´s own potent players. First among them Skywalker. Mas would have to make sure he never learned his secrets. Yet, a Jedi was not to underestimated. The Force had always had it´s subtle hand in the affairs of the Empire. Nobody knew better than Mas Amedda.

"I serve the Emperor and through him the Empire. There is nothing to rethink, Teuka." He cooly replied. "And Kalt is no Tarkin. His power is only that bestowed upon him by the Throne. It can be taken away from him, can be limited. Probably not today, but once a new Emperor steps forth . . . it certainly can." Teuka would understand. It was all about installing an Emperor. The Empire was made to serve an Emperor. Once they had suceeded with that, all they had to deal with was the many, many traitors. "A true Emperor." He added and looked at Aballeus. Would he try to take this power? Mas could not allow it. He knew The Emperor had other ideas about his heir. Ideas he was now left to defend against the coming storm of contenders.

His attention turned back to the Royal Guard and his answer. So much depended on decisions now. This would be the first of many.

Tag: SirakRomar, Mikaboshi

 

IC: Commander Wedge Antilles, X-Wing (Rogue Leader)
Location: Cerea

The two TIEs had exploded at almost the same time. Wedge had slagged one, the other was a ton of scrap because of his wingmate Shanti. She had shot just as the TIE had tried to break off. He heard her whoop of glee at making the difficult shot, and, if Wedge remembered correctly, it made her an ace.

“Good shot, Rogue Two.”

The X-Wing Squadrons had splintered the first wave of Imperial fighters, but it was obvious these Imperials had little else to lose. They were fighting with everything they got, including their lives.


It didn’t help much.

Rogue Squadron concentrated on opening a hole in the fighter screen wide enough to let Black Squadron through. The B-Wings were not much in a dogfight, but they excelled at slagging Cruisers.

And that was just what Wedge intended to let them do.

Wedge glanced at his sensor board. There were a group of Interceptors forming up, aiming to hit the center of the Alliance Starfighter group. Luke Skywalker was in command of Green Squadron, and Green Squadron was at the heart of the Alliance starfighter forces. Those interceptors didn’t stand a chance.

Wedge switched from Alliance General Fighter comms to his flight group's comm channel “Rogue One Flight, listen up. We’re going to strife those Interceptors, and soften them up into nice targets for Green Squadron. Execute Delta Strike on my mark.”

Wedge pulled into position to start the Delta Strike maneuver as Rogue Three and Four moved into their position.

“Mark”

Wedge’s X-Wing roared in at the Interceptors, Shanti in Rogue Two followed just a hair behind on his wing. He switched his laser cannons over to duel fire, giving him a higher fire rate but still enough punch to do plenty of damage. Wedge’s finger twitched on the trigger, sending paired ruby lances of deadly energy straight into the Interceptor’s formation. His fire was followed by Shanti’s as she let loose with a torrent of rapid single fired lances. From below, Rogues Three and Four, attacked in unison. The wingpairs were at ninety degrees from each other with the Interceptors in the cross fire.

Just as quick as it started it ended and Wedge, Shanti, Rogue Three and Four were past the Interceptors. Cutting across each other’s tails to make sure no one picked up any company.

“Rogues Three and Four. Break and engage at will. Remember we need to get those B-Wings through.”

Wedge peeled off to port and setup to head back into the fight.

Tag: TheSithGirly, Sith-I-5, SirakRomar

OOC: Took some liberty with Rogue Three and Four. Hope that's ok.

************************************​

​

IC: Admiral Torrey, Commander of Task Force 4-Alpha
Location: Bridge of the ISD Relentless, above Chigrance

Torrey watched his mighty Destroyer rain destruction down upon the planet. He had come back to the planet of his birth in hopes of finding the Grace he once had in the service of the Empire. He was aware of the Fleet regrouping at Vandelhelm, under the command of Grand Moff Kalt.
And that was the problem.

“One more barrage of turbo-laser fire and there is no way back, Sir.” Captain Bate paused and looked down at the planet. “Do you wish to give the order yourself?”

“The Emperor is dead Captain, the way back has been close for two days.” His words were not intended to be rebuking, but just a soft reminder. The Emperor was dead, and Torrey laid the blame squarely at the feet of the Moffs.

The Moffs were the ones that had maneuvered the Emperor into dissolving the Senate, giving them more power. Grand Moff Tarkin destroyed Alderaan. And the corruption wasn’t just contained to the upper echelons either.

Even here, in his home system, corruption had found root. Chigrance was a backwater system even if it was located in the mid-rim. It was drained of most of its resources decades ago, but even so Moff Mole found ways to extort the people, and he grew fat and rich off the pain he inflicted.

No more.

Admiral Torrey nodded to his Gunnery Commander to fire the last barrage. He turned back to Captain Bate. “Give the extraction team a go. I want the Moff. Dead or Alive.”

TAG: SirakRomar

 

Ishmael Davenport
Dantooine, Governor's mansion

The lighter flashed orange for a moment, and he took a pull on the cigar, the familiar scent of smoke and tabac filling his nostrils. He exhaled slowly as Haako stepped up.

"Davenport, I assume. You look taller than on your holo." The Nemoidian smiled politely, nodding slightly. "Can I assume you made sure nobody followed you?"

Davenport grinned wolfishly. "Kept you waiting, huh? No tails. Takes time, but so does all good work." The roundabout ways, the little idiosyncrasies of so-called "casual" or "random" travel, that wasn't something you just up and did. It took effort, calculated thought, and above all else luck. "Even kept myself clear of outposts I've got a good name in, folks that owe me a favour - and that's a lot of folks - to get here quiet-like. So what's the situation?"

He looked about the mansion grounds. Dantooine kept playing a dangerous game; early in the war there was an Alliance base, then rumour of their narrow escape from the Death Star, then the business with some Moff or other. Davenport didn't really care, as long as he had a job, and the pay was good. Hell, even if it's bad.

He lowered his voice. "Anything to do with the Governor?"

Tag: SirakRomar Skywalker_T-65

 

Maj. (Ret.) Kilgo Retrout
Home One, Above Endor

I'm out of the loop.

That was the single thought that permeated nearly all of the mental processes of the small, skittish man garbed in what passed for formal wear in his corner of the galaxy and nearly nowhere else. He had long ago forsworn explaining what the Zurellian people dubbed the "Suiati" outfit, which bore a striking resemblance to what people on a distant planet far into the future would think of as a business coat and tie, and instead would merely explain, when asked, that he was from Zurell. That was generally the end of the discussion - while a valuable, if minor, member of the Alliance, Zurell was and always had been regarded as something of a cultural non sequitur. In truth, the planet had long managed to escape Imperial attention primarily on the strength of its ability to cause offworlders to want to avoid it altogether.

This would have been unremarkable had several years of retirement to his countryside estate not regressed Kilgo to his native inclinations.

None of this was on his mind, however - too much rested on the loop, and his status of being out of it, as it were. This was no longer the rag tag group of scrappers it had been when he had been overcome by exhaustion. This was a highly organized military operation, ready to face front in a new and uncertain galaxy. An operation that would require a government. A government would need administrators.

That was where Kilgo came in - he had always been better at organization and negotiation than at fighting, even in his military days, and in his retirement he had served as a part-time advisor to the head of the Zurellian Department of the Interior. He was in the unique position of being a trusted friend with a head for incredibly dull details. Patriotic duty demanded he step up to the occasion.

The first man to speak up was one the Zurellian didn't recognize - he was a smooth talking bastard, that was for certain, but his ranks marked him for a general. Hell of a talent, if he could shoot through the ranks that fast - and blow up a freaking Death Star. The sort of smooth talking bastard who could walk the walk. Kilgo filed him away for future reference.

"My allegiance has always been to the Rebellion," Retrout, sipping his tea, noted as soon as the other man finished. "I've been away for a few years, but that hasn't changed. I'll help in any way I can - just, no more fighting. I ain't a-marchin' anymore. I left that to the younger generation and, well, that's rather plainly turned out for the best, wouldn't you say?"

TAG: HanSolo29, Republic_Anvil, BLemelisk, Lukes_Apprentice, SirakRomar

 

Nyla Holst
Nyla's Home - Naboo

Her father was at it again. Nyla was doing her best not to roll her eyes at the dinner party. It had started fun enough. Living on Naboo did have some benefits. Especially, if you were well off. Not stinking rich, like some of the other families around them, but well enough to enjoy some of the perks. Too bad tonight wasnt one of them. She wanted to go out, and enjoy herself, preferably dancing. But her father had invited other successful traders and ship captains to munch and talk about how horrible things had gone for business, now that the Emperor was dead. 'Bad for business.' as her dad would put it. Now, dont get her wrong, normally Nyla LOVED to hear the tales from some of the other ship captains about their tales through wild space, or some other wild adventures. But ever since the rebellion, it seemed that all they talked about was the Empire, or how hard it was to get certain paperwork, or business. No fun there. And since her father and Griffen's dad saw on opposite sides of the argument, they could talk ALL NIGHT. And most likely, they would.

At least Griffen was there. A breath of fresh air. Someone who DIDNT drone on about the Empire. And much better to talk to than a droid. SO when he caught her eye, and gave a quick glance, she was quick to catch on, and excuse herself from the table, so that she could sneak outside into the garden. She had to sneak out to meet with him, for her mother guarded her like a gundark. When they were little Griffen and Nyla played all the time, but as they grew older, her mother seemed determined that they not spend anytime alone together. She knew her parents were a bit overprotective, but really. Nyla slipped out back. A quick search, and she soon found her friend, waiting for her.

“By the Gods, I always think they duel and whoever falls asleep first from the tiring arguments has lost!” Griffen greeted her as she steped over, and took a seat on one of the many benches nearby. Nyla laughed softly. "Like that would ever happen. They love to debate far too much." Nyla replied, smiling. Nyla tilted her head as she looked over her old friend. He seemed to be very happy, and excited about something. Considering the mood over the planet for the last month or so, this was a welcomed change indeed. She smiled, enjoying his happiness.

“What do they know about the Empire, hm? Seriously. If the Emperor had wanted them to spend their nights discussing him, he would probably not have forbidden political debate in public around here, right?” Griffen laughed and wandered a bit into the garden. Nyla simply shook her head. "Oh, dont get me started about that, please. I have heard enough of THAT subject from my father." Nyla sighed. "I know the Empire might not have been perfect, but this uncertainty is not good either. There will be even more fighting now." Nyla shook her head. She was going to say more, but then they were interrupted by a quite familiar voice.

“Nyla?! NYLA!” The voice of Nyla´s mother came from the house, shouting for her as if she was a twelve year old. “By the Gods, we´re grown ups!” Griffen just sighed and rolled his eyes. Nyla hid a furious blush. She knew her mother was only looking out for her, but sometimes it could be downright embarrassing. Especially around Griffen. Nyla swatted her hand at her best friend. "Oh come on. You know she means well. She's just.. well, you know how she is." Nyla told him. Nyla knew why the woman was overprotective of her.


“I need to show you something. You think you can leave without asking Mummy?” Griffen grinned and looked at the gate of the family estate. Nyla looked over at her friend, curiously. What did he have in mind? Course, she knew him for so long, she was never worried when she was with him. He had proven himself many times with her. Nyla looked back at the house. "Yeah. Give me 30 minutes. If I go now, she'll have the entire house looking for me." Nyla said with a grin. If nothing else, Griffen always knew the greatest spots to find, especially for dancing. She grinned, as she gave him a wave. "Meet you outside of the gates?" she asked him, confirming it with a wink, before she turned back to walk towards the house, calling out to her mom.

"I'm here Mom." she called back to the woman, running her fingers through her hair. "You dont need to yell. I just need to ... clear the air." she responded, as she walked back towards the house, smiling.



TAG: SirakRomar

 

IC: Avar Cole
Home One, Above Endor

During Avar Cole’s years as an Imperial agent inserted into the Rebel Alliance, he had never felt more out of place than in the past several days. Being shocked at the last minute announcement of the intended target, actually getting selected for the shield generator strike team, and then being forced into hand-to-hand combat with Imperial personnel, tested the man’s abilities of blending in, and even staying alive.

Now the killing of Imperial troops wasn’t abnormal as far as Avar Cole’s operating procedures went. Soldiers were supposed to die. As long as he was still completing his mission for the Empire, did a few dead stormtroopers really mean anything to that vast military machine? But during the course of the struggle on the forest moon, more and more he saw himself alongside the Rebel commandos killing and saving and aiding, not out of a duty of keeping himself alive to file his next report, but because his “comrades” were counting on him, and he all at once realized he couldn’t let them down. Had the tables been turned? Had they been conning him?

This question was as fresh in his mind as ever when he was called to the main conference room aboard the Alliance’s flagship Home One. All of the major players were present, individuals he would have killed for information on in the past, and now they counted him as one of them. Crix Madine even shook Cole’s hand as he entered, and he found himself throwing a nod and a satisfied smirk toward Han Solo, in acknowledgement of their accomplishing the impossible just two short days ago on the planet below.

After silently watching the live feed of the battle currently taking place on nearby Cerea and then listening to Madine and Mon Mothma speak, Cole bristled almost imperceptibly at the president of the Alliance’s choice of words. “With military means we cannot end this war without losing billions of lives. Therefore we will need to end it by other means. We have summoned you, our most trusted friends here today for a good reason. After all you did, we will need to ask even more of you. If you are willing to serve the Alliance once more. I understand some of you considered this to be a temporary Alliance and after all you did, we can hardly ask anymore of you.”

Lando Calrissian chimed in about his rogue and questionable past. If he only knew, thought Cole, appreciating the irony.

Then an older man spoke of his loyalty and his willingness to help with administration and diplomacy. He was a dyed in the wool Alliance man.
Technically holding only a Lieutenant’s commission, Avar knew it wasn’t his place to speak ahead of the others, especially considering the questions of allegiance that had plagued his thoughts since the battle. But his Alderaanian cover identity needed to say something. “I just want to say what an honor it was to serve with General Solo down there,” he glanced toward one of the viewports at the glow of Endor below, “and since my home is gone, I make a new one with the Alliance now. Wherever it goes from here, I go.”

Avar Cole then swallowed hard, not out of sorrow, but because he was surprised at how much of that he actually wanted to believe.

TAG: HanSolo29, Republic_Anvil, Ramza, Lukes_Apprentice, SirakRomar

 

Admiral Baale, Somewhere near the Deep Core, Aboard the “Imperator”

The Admiral smiled at the sight of his old friend. The Moff of Mygeeto, what a fateful twist of fate to make his comrade not only a person of authority, but also in the right place in these fateful times. “I assure you were I was hiding, there are no stones. No rocks. Nothing to hide from or under. It is good to see you, old friend.” He secured the line with one pull from his hand on the right button and then turned his eyes up again. “He is dead, Trachta. He is dead and you would not believe with what kind of heritage he left me.” Baale grinned and stepped closer to the hologram. “You still control Mygeeto I assume? How many ships do you have? Enough to defeat the Rebels in the upper rim?”

So many questions, so many answers he had to get as soon as possible. He was on his way to the first stone to fall, but to know where the collapse would lead two, he had to know how many stones were on the field. The simple rules of blind men playing with domino-stones.


Tag: SirakRomar

 

Connor Harrison
Coruscant, 1313

It was noisy. It was busy. It was alive. The depths of Coruscant's 1313 was something to behold. It was safe from the clutches of the Empire, too busy trying to claw back the fragments of their once powerful grip on the galaxy after the mighty Battle of Endor days ago. There was no real law down here, except the law that belonged to those with the most dangerous connections, the biggest blaster rifles and the millions of credits to their name. It was like the city on the surface had been turned on it's head and placed in the depths of the planet, illuminated by the dazzling lights that lit up buildings as far as the eye could see. As long as you kept your thoughts and your eyes to yourself and got on with your business, you'd be fine.

Connor Harrison was in no hurry, yet he didn't have time to waste by taking in the might of Level 1313 as he knew it well enough already. The former General of the Galctic Empire had recieved, what looked like, a standard holo-transmission from a figure well known to him and his peers - Oson Calrissian. The washed-up, dangerous pirate who'd sucessfully evaded capturing by the Imperial Navy and crippled their mighty fleet in the process was still a wanted man, but as he had vanished without trace nearly 10 years ago, and with the emergence of the Rebellion, Calrissian was still wanted but the Regional Governors were not wasting more resources on this relic.

Harrison himself knew the Calrissian that was a powerful figure with the right connections to make a big impact to any faction he wanted to, and with the specific wording that echoed in his mind - "... the chance to change the galaxy." - he felt it right to hear the man out, for Harrison wasn't one of the Emperor's drones anymore. He was his own person.

His long hood was up on his overcoat, dark and menacing to help him blend in with the shadows. He weaved his way through the figures outside the small club he had been called to where Calrissian was waiting for him. A couple of light green skinned female Twi'leks gave him the welcome eye on the club doorstep, but Harrison paid them no due as he pulled back his hood and stepped inside.

Smiling curtly to the bored looking Gran on the door, Harrison had no weapons on show and didn't look the sort to cause trouble. An ex-fighter pilot looking for a few cheap thrills? A smuggler wanting a quiet drink or three? Harrison could be anyone, and those in the club paid him no attention as he moved through to the rear of the neon lit room. Pinks, blues, yellows and greens lit his smooth face as he scanned the room for Calrissian.

Brushing back a few stray locks of black hair, Harrison chewed the inside of his mouth as he tried to pickout the pirate in the darkness. Thankfully, a wave of yellow light hit the back wall in a spiral of colour and a figure was illuminated, watching Harrison from his seat. A bottle half full, or half empty, was on the table in front of him along with a small hunting knife. Calrissian.

“You look taller than your hologram.” Calrissian's smooth voice wasn't what Harriosn was expecting. “Sit, please.”

Harrison followed the inviting hand to the soft booth next to him, a comfortable yet worn looking seat across the table from him.

“I got a proposition for you. And believe me, there will be a lot to talk about, before we part . . . as partners or not.”

A wry smile crept onto the former General's face. With the Battle of Endor still sending out shockwaves through the galaxy, Harrison was waiting for his chance to make a difference, and felt this old relic could be it.

TAG SirakRomar

 

Leia Organa
Home One, Above Endor

Leia listened to Mon Mothma and Crix Madine as they laid out the playing field as it now stood. The Empire was crippled, but still dangerous as the battle of Cerea was showing, and more and more systems were declaring Independence or joining the Alliance outright.

The thought of whole planets publicly declaring themselves for the Alliance brought a smile to her face. She had worked very long and very hard for this moment, and so many had sacrificed so much for this victory. Herself included. Leia’s smile faded. To Leia, the destruction of her home planet was still a trauma that had yet to heal. She tried so hard to move on like some of her people had. In the end all that she accomplished was to build a wall around it and bottle it up. She projected a façade of strength to her fellow Alderaanians, and hoped that no one could see the little girl that was weeping in her soul.

This façade prompted Leia to make it a point to get to know, if just a bit, anyone from her home planet she encountered. Most welcomed the presents and attention of a fellow Alderaanian. Those that didn’t she would leave in peace with the promise that if they ever change their minds she would listen.

With most she felt a kinship, a bond really, that people who roamed the galaxy shared with those from their home planet. But for every living reminder of her home world there were dozens of its demise. Although she felt obligated to be the rock for her people, she died a little inside every time she remembered.

Beside her Han straightened in his seat, his gaze was on Lando. Leia frowned a bit. She knew Han was upset about the Falcon, but she had thought he had put it behind him. From the way he was looking at Lando it seemed the feelings weren’t staying in the past.

That’s when Avar Cole spoke his thoughts…
“I just want to say what an honor it was to serve with General Solo down there. And since my home is gone, I make a new one with the Alliance now. Wherever it goes from here, I go.”
Leia’s mind clicked. She knew the man’s record, she and Han had gone over every commando’s record when they choose their strike team, and now that information forced its way to the surface of her thoughts.

Avar Cole. Planet of origin: Alderaan.

Leia had filed that bit of data away with the intention of talking to the man about their home world at a later time, doing so on the eve of a strike mission seemed a poor decision. And now, with the battle of Cerea and the information Mon Mothma and Crix had just delivered, the time still did not seem appropriate.
Leia almost missed Han’s response to Cole and Mon Mothma as her heart was now heavy with the thoughts of her home world. She sought out the comfort she desperately needed. Her hand found his, and as their fingers intertwined she gave a gentle squeeze to assure herself that he was real and not a dream.

That had happened to her a handful of times in the year he was Jabba the Hutt’s prisoner. They would be laughing or arguing or embracing when he would suddenly dissolve into mist, and she would be alone in the darkness… always in the darkness, where despair would close in on her like a wet blanket. And in the darkness He would be there. The harsh mechanical sound of his respirator would echo ominously in the darkness. His eyes, hidden behind his mask would bore into her right down to her soul. Darth Vader would raise his hand and she would find it impossible to breath. Her attempts to fill her lungs would be met by a refusal of the air to cooperate. Her vision would blur and then she would wake up sobbing, her chest burning from the lack of oxygen.

Those dreams had been bad enough, but what Luke had reviled to her on the surface of the Sanctuary Moon was even more horrifying. That monster that was the Emperor’s right hand was her father. And though she tried to deny it, she knew, down in her soul, that it was the truth. And though Luke had told her how Darth Vader had died aboard the second Death Star and Anakin Skywalker had been redeemed, the fact remained; Her father had been one of the most hated men in the galaxy.
The one bright spot to that dark revelation was Luke. Her best friend had become her brother and she was no longer alone in the universe. But now he was off in another battle, fighting against the Empire their father had help found, and she worried for him. Luke was a powerful individual and strong in the Force. It would protect him, she had to believe that. He had told her that she too had these gifts. That the Force was strong in their family, but she was untrained and untested. However, if she concentrated she could feel his presence, and she knew he was alright. She would know if anything happened to him. Just like she knew he had escaped the Death Star’s destruction. That brought small comfort to her, but it was comfort none the less.

She forced herself back to the matters at hand. Mon Mothma had said they needed them. She had talked about solutions to the war with the Empire other than conflict, and hinted at diplomacy. The Leia would answer her call. She had come too far not to.
Leia looked to Mon Mothma and nodded. “Mon Mothma. I’m sure you know I’ll assist in any way I can.”

TAG: @HanSolo29, BLemelisk, Ramza, Lukes_Apprentice, SirakRomar

 

Oson Calrissian
1313, Coruscant

Oson gave the club another long look, before turning his attention back to his guest.

“Men like us have much to win in days like these. Our dreams, our goals can be fulfilled. We can also waste them in hiding, or with the obedience to lesser minds. I guess you know that better than me. It hasn´t been that long you freed yourself from the enslavement of the Empire.”

Oson´s hands made a slight gesture, hinting a change of topic.

“I have lately acquired a very rare, very valuable information. This information is yet incomplete, but contains a hint where to get the rest of it. If it turns our true, we two could change the galaxy. We two . . . and a few comrades I have summoned for this . . . I think they call it a quest, do they? . . . we would have the power to influence galactic policy. On a big scale.”

He leaned forward. “But to get that kind of power, I need the best, the very best I can get and you, Mr. Harrison, you have been strongly recommended by me as being the right man for such an undertaking. So my question is . . . quite simple and without saying a word more: Are you interested in acquiring such power?”

Tag:





Laki, Onder and Alisa
Naboo, Warehouse

“Great.” Onder grinned. “Let´s go!” He was already on his way to the boxes, when Alisa stopped him. “Boys, not with me tonight. I gotta dance. Less customers anyway since the Empire isn´t around.” She shrugged. “Good fun to you guys, though.” And with a quick kiss to Laki she turned to leave, giving Dario a little wink on her way out. Laki looked after her. “Oh dammit, I hoped for some quality time among the stars. This thing can do space flight, can it?” Onder nodded enthusiastically. “This damned thing got hyperspace, man!” It needed no more and Laki ducked behind a box and began to sneak towards the ship, one box at a time. As the came closer they saw the green light of the lock. “Man, they did not even lock it. They must have left in a hurry!” Onder shouted out and jumped up, doing the last few steps without cover. Nobody seemed to spot him or shoot him and he made it to the ramp and pushed the opening button. With hissing air leaving vents the ramp slowly lowered.
“Captain?” He grinned to Dario and made a theatrical gesture ot the inside. “Ready to board our new ship?”

Tag: @Raynar_Tedros





Sanara Holst, Griffen
Estate of the Family Holst, Theed, Naboo

Sanara was a beautiful woman even for her age. Like all natural Nabooians she aged very gracefully. Yet, her eyes could betray her concern she always seemed to have. It vanished in favour of honest relief, as she saw her daughter appear. “Oh, my dear. My dear, you won´t believe who just arrived. Baron Asani. And guess what? He has his son with him. A very interesting young man.” He was actually boring. “Elegant.” He had a reputation of being clumsy. “And single.” Of course he was. She clapped into her hands. “You two gotta meet!”

“You must be Nyla!” Her mother had cleverly lead her into an abush of courtesy. The Baron, a rather bulky man with a loud voice came to her. “Look how you have grown!” He had actually seen her the year before, sp she hadn´t really. “Have you met Temeron? My son?” He stepped aside an revealed his son, who was a it skinny and looked bored, as he was pushed as much towards Nyla as she was towards him.
“Hi.” That was all he finally said. “I am Lovarre.” Looking to his Dad he sighed. “Pleased to meet you.”

The argument of the fathers had become really loud, but the battleground had shifted into the salon, where they were smoking waterpipes and drinking Corellian Brandy while arguing. “Are they fighting or something?” Lovarre asked, looking at the open door of the salon.

Outside Nyla could see a ball jumping up and odwn, certainly Griffen, throwing it up and catching it to fight boredom, while he waited.

Tag: Ktala





Orven, Lava
Subterrel Mining Center

Lava grinned at Orven who was close to hammering his fist into the desk. But finally he just pressed a “fair enough” through his teeth and stood up, folding his arms. “The ore reserves.” Lava ended the topic by stepping forward herself now. Her brows seemed to move to each other, hinting there would come nothing good form her. “I found a way to make plenty. Actually I just reported 44-7-2 as being overhauled and the guys volunteered to do double shifts. Did that for two days now, got 400 megatons of ore.” That was far beyond most optimistic expectations, also Lava usually overperformed with any task given. Except friendliness and empathy, probably.
“There is a problem though. One I wanted to talk about with both of you.” She somehow drew a holorecorder from her belt with such a swift motion, it seemed to appear from nowhere. And a picture of a man appeared, chained, guarded by two security droids and obviously beaten up. “An intruder right into the serect stash, an hour ago. He does not talk, but he must have got a pretty good idea what we´re doing there.” The man was little more than a teenager but his clothing looked like a foreigner. A foreigner trying to look like a native, but a foreigner nevertheless. “Look at his boots, he is not from here.” Orven confirmed with a nod.
Lava nodded. “My thought and too young for an Imperial spy, if you ask me. The thing is, who is he with? And does that somebody know of our secret stash?”

Tag: Mitth_Fisto






Asul Haako
Dantooine, Governor's mansion


Davenport grinned wolfishly. "Kept you waiting, huh? No tails. Takes time, but so does all good work." Something appeared on Haako´s face, only a hint of an emotion. Nothing hostile, but kowing. Sort of a “if you knew”, that was contained immediately, before it could reveal more. "Even kept myself clear of outposts I've got a good name in, folks that owe me a favour - and that's a lot of folks - to get here quiet-like. So what's the situation?"
“Perfect.” Haako approved, indeed he was sure of having chosen the right man. He slowly began to walk now, inviting the human to follow with a gesture of his hand.

Davenport lowered his voice. "Anything to do with the Governor?"
“No directly. Well, it has to do with all of us, I guess.” Haako nodded. “I have access to a secret and I have kept it hidden from all the galaxy for many years. But now, with the Emperor dead? I think it is the perfect time to claim the fruits of my patience. It is a dangerous claim to make, though. One I need the skills of a man like you to make sure it is done right. There will be . . . victims. I understand you are a man of violence, not of doubts. I need you to find a place for me, kill everybody you find there and return with the data that is kept there without anybody being able to trace the act to me. I´ll double your usual fee. Any help I can provide, I will.”
Haako forced himself to smile slightly. But there was no humor in his smile.

Tag: @Penginator

 

Captain Bate
Bridge of the Relentless

The Captain appeared half an hour after the extraction had begun. With a sigh he positioned himself next to his Admiral. “Suicide. When they entered his quarters he committed suicide. At least he took the honorable way to accept defeat and failure.” Bale cleared his throat. “We have met considerable resistance from his Stormtroopers, unwilling . . . or unable to accept defeat. I have ordered the estate of the Moff to be bombarded.” He looked out of the viewport now, too.

“There is something else. We have commands. Both the Advisory Council and Grand Advisor Aballeus and Grand Moff Kalt have ordered all troops to rendez-vous points with their fleets. Conflicting orders, so to say. I expect we won´t follow any of them?”

Tag: @splinterithemindseye_




Moff Trachta Voren
Mygeeto and the Bridge of the “Imperator”

Trachta send his old friend a sad smile. “The Rebels are not what they were used to be, my friend. A week ago I could have smashed any of their fleets, but they were hiding. But now with one planet after another slipping through our fingers they gain men, ships and power every minute. They will be smashed, but not as easily as the Emperor thought.” Voren leaned forward. “Forty.” The number was all he said for a moment. “Forty-two to be precise. Not all the newest models, but I have 42 Star Destroyers summoned here from Muunlist to Ord Mantell, from Bandomeer to Ansion. Just as you told me I should, when the day came. You believed I would not remember? I waited for this day. And I waited for your return. What are your orders?”

Trachta´s face was now a hideous grimace of bloodthirst and powerlust.

Tag: TheGoodImperial





Gilad
Coruscant, Orbit

The voice was familiar and yet so strange. It spoke through the clouds of sleep and whispered into his dreams, yet with a thundering impact. Had he fallen asleep, had he cdrifted away in meditation, was it a vision? It was impossible to say.

“In a galaxy without the force you my friend will be precious. As precious as eyes to the blind . . . “








Dookuu woke up, or was ripped out of meditation . . . it was hard to tell . . . by the proximity warning. A grav-field had been detected and they were about to jump out of hyperspace. It was Coruscant, alive, bristling with billions of thoughts and yet clouded by something. Something that made the force hard to perceive clearly here.

“Master,” The voice of Gilad was emotionless as always. “We have reached Coruscant and I begin landing procedures. Our request ot land at the Imperial Palace has been denied, shall I take the next nearby landing opportunity?” He seemed to think a moment. “Or shall I contact the Grand Advisor?”

Tag: @Cmdr

 

Admiral Torel, Admiral Flask, Admiral Pest, Captain Crachta
Aboard the Vengeance, above Vandelhelm


Pest answered about the resources. “If we really would evacuate the expanse, Haruun Kal, the fleets around Bothan Space alone . . . we would have about two hundred Star Destroyers, but a whole new line to defend. Operative we might win three to four battle groups, each a dozen? With the four groups you have already united, that is quite a fleet.” They were all silent for a moment. Then they answered the second question. Targets. The question everything depended on now.

Admiral Torel was the first to speak. “Naboo.” He simply said. “The homeplanet of our Emperor cannot be allowed to rebel!”He hammered his fist on the desk, but even that seemed like an actor´s gesture. From behind him Admiral Pest already disagreed.

“Naboo does not have the meaning it once held for the trade and it holds little military power or meaning at all. I suggest Dantooine. They have a history with rebels and seemed to have declared some thought of shaky independence.” He gestured. “It is on the other side of the galaxy, certainly. But it´s a well known rebel sympathizer planet.” Most military officers nodded.

Admiral Flask leaned back and gave it though. “I´d say Bothawui, Mon Calamari itself. Let us unite a fleet and attack their centers of power.”

“It would be a sign of weakness to ignore these new planets declared allegiance with the Rebellion.” Admiral Pest again.

Then Crachta spoke. The young Captain had a thin voice, which seemed to threaten everybody it was directed at only by speaking to them.

“Jaemus. Jaemus and Ithor.” He allowed the Admiral´s to look at him and then leaned forward, sending a knowing smile into the round. “One is an industrial center that has great strategic value and yet no protection. The other is a peaceful but dedicated supporter of the rebellion.” He smirked. “We can destroy both with ten Star Destroyers or less each. No risk of a defeat and especially Ithor I believe will . . . hurt the Rebellion. It will be an itching stitch they cannot scratch. A clear sign of their inability to protect their people.” Crachta looked around. “My inferior idea of a perfect target. But I think some of you might have thought of those two, too?”


Tag: DarkLordoftheFins

ooc: All others have to come tomorrow. I am tired and cannot think clearly anymore. Have a good night!

 

ooc: Okay, I did it anyway. now good night!


Admiral Ackbar, General Crix Madine, Mon Mothma
Home One, Above Endor


Mon Mothma smiled at the responses and gave Lando an acknowledging look.

“Thanks to all of you. In this time our friends and trust among ours is probably the most precious weapon we got. Because the Empire is already showing signs paranoia and we assume soon the powerful remnants of the old regime will turn against each other. When that time comes, we will destroy them. But not by military might, but by giving the galaxy . . . “

She looked at each of them. “An alternative.” Mothma looked at Leia. Then she lowered her eyes. There was more, much more, Leia would know. But she was not ready to reveal yet.

Admiral Ackbar stepped forward now. “Until that time has come we will have to protect those who hurry to our side. The Empire has the superior numbers still. Therefore it is essential we secure resources. Several key-planets within the Outer Rim have left the Empire. Some have joined the Alliance, others have yet to decide. Subterrel is among them.” Ackbar pulled a button at the holographic table and a hologram of the infamous mining world appeared. “Rich on ores and tyderium, almost completely industrialized and centered in the Outer Rim.” Ackbar explained. “A long time provider of resources for the Empire. We have recently received a message of along-time sympathizer of our cause from there. A certain Orven Rasp has acquired the position of the head of security and he has assured us, the Empire is weak there.” Mon Mothma stepped forth and Ackbar became silent immediately. “Yet, to win a planet like this, you must not win military superiority. We must win it´s people. Free trade, protection, fair conditions, we can offer a lot to Subterrel. We need their resources in return, or any hope for a future fleet to protect our new allies will be in vain.”

She turned to Han and Leia now, sending them a warm smile. “General Solo, Leia, we trust you two with this mission of utmost importance. If you cannot persuade Subterrel to join us, maybe nobody can.”

With that Ackbar took over again, turning to Major Retrout and Colonel Cole. “Subterrel, Endor, Naboo. The lower half of the Outer Rim has gotten a lot attention by all warparties. But too long this happened at the expense of our allies of old. Dantooine, Garqi, Dubrillion, Ord Cestus. The Empire has ruled these areas for far too long without any serious resistance from our side. We need to forge an alliance there to unite the powers of freedom against those still loyal to the Empire. Major, we want to ask you to forge this Alliance. Vice-Admiral Antilles and his fleet will accompany you. We will also send Colonel Cole with you, to serve as your right hand. His superiors agreed he is good with a gun and with words.” Ackbar stepped back and nodded to Crix Madine now. “Your mission should begin at Dantooine, one of two great providers of food within the Empire. Garqi is the other and both are divided by the Imperial fortress-world Mygeeto. Should we manage to isolate Mygeeto, the Empire would have little choice but to retreat from the sector.”

Finally Crix Madine turned to Lando. “For you, General Calrissian we have a very special mission. I am glad to hear you will help us from here on, because what we must ask from you, we could not possibly ask from anybody else. Please come to my office, once you all havehad time to let things sink in.”

“That´s it. May the force be with you.” That was Ackbar hurrying out of the conference, without a doubt to oversee the Battle of Cerea. Mon Mothma stayed behind a moment to sort datapds. Crix Madine nodded to Lando a final time and left the conference room.


Tag: HanSolo29, Republic_Anvil, Ramza, BLemelisk, Lukes_Apprentice

 

IC: Governor Masa
Dantooine, Governor's Mansion

In the chaos following the death of the Emperor, Dantooine had been stripped of its minor garrison. A small fleet was all that was left, only kept through some careful political manipulation. The source of this fleet, Governor Masa, was currently in a meeting with his Cabinet. They were debating on what course Dantooine would take in the new Galaxy. The Empire was in retreat and falling apart at the seams, while the Alliance was gaining in power every day.

“They are gone, doesn´t mean they won´t come back. What I hear about Grand Moff Kalt, we will regret crossing him.” This was Prova, a young Iktotchi who was commander of the protection forces.

Masa nodded slightly. He knew what Kalt was, or at least the image the man showed. Certainly not Tarkin reincarnated, but not someone they wanted on the bad side of. So the Governor could see Prova's point.

However, his cousin had another point to make, “So many planet defect, why would they come here first, hm? And even if they come, we got a fleet. A good fleet. They would need some ships to take our planet. Aren´t there easier targets? I say independence is a real option here. Trading with the Empire, maybe making a few treaties in return for our goods. We can send them wood, food and what metal´s we can spare. If we remain free in return. The food exports alone will make us rich and powerful in time.”

This also made sense to Masa. Especially with how the Empire was falling apart. They could still do a lot of damage should they choose, but Dantooine was remote. And rebel-ties or not, they had never outright rebelled. Masa himself had convinced the former Governor to prevent that. But...the Rebel Base that was still in ruins could cause some...difficulties.

Gathering his thoughts, Masa looked at his Cabinet, "Ideally, I would like Dantooine to be independent. The Empire is on the decline, and even at their height did not help us. But a wounded Rancor is a dangerous Rancor."

Making sure he had their attention, Masa continued, "I believe that we should chart a course towards independence. However, we should not ignore the Empire or Alliance. If either side can show that we should join them...and give legitimate reasons, we should."

TAG: SirakRomar

 

Ishmael Davenport
Dantooine, Governor's Mansion

"Perfect." The Nemoidian motioned for Davenport to follow.

"Anything to do with the Governor?" asked Davenport.

“Not directly. Well, it has to do with all of us, I guess.” Davenport frowned at that but held his tongue. That's patently obvious.

Haako continued as they walked. “I have access to a secret and I have kept it hidden from all the galaxy for many years. But now, with the Emperor dead? I think it is the perfect time to claim the fruits of my patience. It is a dangerous claim to make, though." Davenport nodded in agreement, for the moment biting his tongue and holding back a sarcastic response.

Haako continued. "One, I need the skills of a man like you to make sure it is done right. There will be . . . victims. I understand you are a man of violence, not of doubts. I need you to find a place for me, kill everybody you find there and return with the data that is kept there without anybody being able to trace the act to me. I´ll double your usual fee. Any help I can provide, I will.”

It was the smile that bothered him most., but Ishmael Davenport was a professional. He exhaled smoke, pulling the cigar from his lips. "Not a problem, as long as you pay at the end. I'll even lose the receipt. You still haven't told me what I'm actually doing or where I'm going, though, so let's cut the red tape and get down to business, right? I go somewhere, silence anyone who might talk, bring something back, no problem. But I need intel to work with - you want your secrets intact, that's fine, but I need data."

Tag: SirakRomar

 

Luke Skywalker
The Battle of Cerea

The hope for peace had not lasted long. He had barely time to mourn his fathers death and celebrate the victory at Endor, before the Empire had made it´s presence known again. A rogue Admiral with an ambitious plan to cut of the Alliance and trap them at Endor. It was a lost battle for the two Imperial Star Destroyers hanging over the peaceful Cerea. They would fall, the question was how many of the Alliance forces they would take with them.

Would the war be like this from now on? The Alliance dominant and slaughtering the Empire´s troops, clones who would never consider surrender an option? Would Luke lead the Alliance from one bloody victory to another? A Jedi seeked peace, harmony and prosperity. But what he faced was a potential total war. One aimed at the extinction of an Empire they had originally only wished to overthrow. Luke knew this could not be what a Jedi was fighting for. It was not the will of the force. The opposite was the case. In the will to destroy life lay the path to the Dark Side. He had learned that, when he had met the worst of all incarnation´s of the Dark Side above Endor. He had learned what it meant to be intoxicated by death as he watched the seemingly omnipotent Emperor. He had also seen where the arrogance that such a will for death lead to. Ultimately it was always the self-destruction that was left as a final option. Would the Alliance not kill billions of innocents in hte process of such a war and would those innocents not rise to turn against their liberators? Certainly that was inevitable, if the Alliance choose this path.

And deeply inside of himself Luke slowly realized it was him who had to sway his friends from such a course of action. The Last of the Jedi had to uphold the Jedi ideals or his betrayal to the Jedi code would be a thousand times more fatal than any treachery of Vader had ever been. If he did not stay true to the Jedi way, the Jedi would finally be truly destroyed. No matter what he was called.

Returning to the here and now as Master Yoda had always preached he should he dodged another volley of green laser-fire. The force guided his movements and no technical assistance was needed now to find his aim and fire. The TIE became an organe ball of fire, exploding with such ferocity Luke did not even care to doge the wreck, but simply flied through it, hearing the static bristling of his shields as smaller debris hit it.

"R2, scan for bombers, they will soon try to break our lines." He ordered his little droid. "And all energy to front shields." He added and reached out with the force. Wedge was nearby, he felt it. The Black Squadron was awaiting their chance to make a run. They would only make it, if they managed to avoid the Tie-Squadrons and that meant, Green and Rogue had to keep them busy. "Green Leader to Rogue Leade. Wedge, Interceptors from comma zero seven. I´ll take them." His machine roared as he pulled it down, ordering half his squadron to follow and as soon as he was in range he allowed the force to guide him, pulling his trigger, while rotating his fighter in the confidence that he could trust the force to keep any harm from him. A powerful ally it indeed was, but used to take lives made it also a a dangerous one.

Had Anakin once fought like this? Had battles like these been his first steps towards darkness? The ease to kill the enemy, the superiority, foresight used to take a living things existence with too little reflection of the act itself? How easy it was to be a hero. How hard it had become to be a Jedi.

For the first time since Luke had joined the Rebellion Luke wondered if he actually was meant to fight for it. Was the warrior really what the last of the Jedi was supposed to be? Just because he was good at it, he could not follow this path. He did not have the luxury of letting his talents define his future, because his talents came from the force and the mastery of the force came with obligations.

So many questions and yet neither Ben nor Yoda had provided answers. Nobody was around to do so anymore. He would have to find his own way.

For now he was a leader of Green Squadron in a battle for survival. He would stay in the here and now and define his future path at a later time.

"Here they come." He simply announced and the deadly game began.

Tag: SirakRomar, Sith-I-5, Splinterthemindseye_