Author's note: Comments, questions, and critique are very much welcomed.

The Caretaker

It is six years after the dramatic conclusion of the Galactic Civil War and the rise of the Galactic Empire. The Republic has been destroyed, and the Jedi who once protected it hunted down and slain by the agents of Emperor Palpatine.

Many rebellions had sprung up against the Empire- one in-particular had taken a huge stance, but there were others who wished to overthrow the Empire. Few succeeded to even create a dint in the unstoppable war machine.

Now, on the fringes of the Outer Rim and small, experimental space vessel exits light speed…

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"We sure this is the place? I don't like the sound of this flisch- not on bit. Are you sure it was wise to trust that wily gangster's information?"

"I'm positive. Ghar'Non is a murderer and an utter fiend – to say the least-, but he is not a liar- and he's certainly not stupid."

"I don't know sir. This entire thing just seems too good to be true…Or too wrong given you and I's history with this clunk heads."

"Most changes throughout the course of history seem to come across as being just that at the time of their occurrence."

"Sounds like a worthless spout of hubble grub..."

"Neela! We're here…transmit the landing clearance codes and begin our decent."

"Understood..."

The lowly jungle peninsula of the planet Tyloon had not true defining aspect other than a large river which split it down the middle and the giant stone facility on its bank. The jungles and marshes alone had been found to be uninhabitable to a vast majority of species due to its high number of unknown disease and voracious local fauna. Still, this hadn't stopped a number of colonization attempts, yet as of this point, after over a dozen attempts, only a single structure remained intact.

Tar'Gash waited on the side of the facility's relatively large landing bay for such a seemingly insignificant colony building. A long, spindly legged blue-skinned creature, possessing arms and legs that far exceeded his torso in length he was often under nervous break downs brought on by his seclusion. Often his hands would move in uncontrollable fits of movement that he could not explain and never had any intent of looking into.

His neck was long as well, as was his face which read an expression of worry, lips forming a sharp V shape. Cautiously his pale-green eyes looked cautiously to the sky- all four of them. His behavior was typical of one who went years without any form of social interaction, and his two stomachs felt knotted over the incoming visitors' arrival. His kind were known for their technical as opposed to social qualities, his long forearms and fingers being more at home with a broken data transceiver than his tongue was in conversation.

He wore a loose form of dress robe that seemed to shift in colors between blue and red depending on the light and his four eyes nervously looked around. No visible weapons were on the alien's person and in no way was there anything horribly frightening about his lanky physical build. Just a harmless mechanic.

Once upon a time he had been a high-ranking technical advisor but now he was a lowly outcast who had been left to keep the derelict colony alive and make sure that it was available for immediate repopulation should the opportunity arise again- or at least that's what he had written on his official report and was exactly what he planned to reiterate to whoever it was who was stopping by so unexpectedly unless they had true business.

Human. That one voice was a human. This had him on edge for human races had always proven a problem for him over the last twenty standard years. Rarely did he have to deal with the hairless apes, but when he did he always felt on edge. Why has it taken so long?

His high-powere eyesight instantly picked up the arriving vessel as soon as it began its descent towards the pad – a mile away at this point – and he could feel his hand tremble.

The small black pod-shaped ship that arrived was unlike any design the technician had ever previously encountered. It ran on a nearly silent energy source, a light hum being all he could hear from it as it began to hover gently above the square shape of the landing zone. Judging by its size he'd guess that it was a small passenger vessel that couldn't hold many more than perhaps ten small individuals of hominid build.

A new model sent here? Who were these people?

Once it had landed a ramp slowly unfolded alongside a door. Most amazing was that the entire process was silent. The interior of the ship – from what Tar could distinguish – was yellow. An unknown metal or plastic surface that he could see was quite durable (his race was good with calculations).

Out of this ship emerged a human – male, tall and lean in build – who wore a casual garb of loose fitting robes of a dark red coloration and a blue sash that wrapped around his waist. His manner was calm, yet gave no signs of cruelty or ill intent. His lips smiled from his short-cut black beard and he placed a hand on his chest before bowing to his alien host.

"Greetings to you, Lord Tar'Gash- last remaining defender of the Tyloon Citadel." His greeting was gentle and sweet, his voice flowing through the alien's mind easily. "We are most impressed with your dedication over these long years- isolated from any form of communications."

"Excuse me, humble tizzir, but could give name and purpose?" the meek alien replied, nervously caressing the twitching fingers of his right hand. "You are in no way the one I…expected for."

Tar'Gash had never exactly mastered the use of the official language.

"You can call me Dunes," the human said, adjusting the straps of a leather glove that clad his left hand. He wore dark red gloves on each hand that tightly fit the shape of his hands. "General Dunes, to be precise and I am here on more than an inspection mission. I'm here to initiate the Neolos code."

"Neolos code?" Tar inquired. He had feared that he would never hear those words uttered during his lifetime.

"Yes, I'm afraid things have gone quite sour for the glorious Confederacy since you last heard from us. Of course if you had kept your lines open…"

"No- not Tar'Gash's fault!" he quickly replied, shaking his hands vigorously. "It was an order to initiate Zhu'jezi. That came from General Grievous directly prior to the invasion of Coruscant. I was supposed to receive word since then, but haven't heard from anyone on outside 'til this day…"

"Regardless of this," the man said beginning to walk towards the doors of the facility without the alien caretaker, "operation Neolos must be initiated at this moment. I trust the reserve has been kept operational and the locations of the Xel'Ron intact?"

"Yes- yes of course, Lord General," Tar said running behind, opening the door for the first form of company he'd had since those last orders. "The Xel'Ron vessel has been kept quiet safe- no one knows where it is, nor has it been disturb-et-ed by noses."

"Hmmm, this is very good to hear, small master."

The inside of the building was a dull grey with no real defining factors. This essentially applied to the entire surface structure which was only a series of winding grey halls, a few hundred living quarters and a mess made to accommodate fifty separate species. Only the front halls were used by the caretaker and he made sure to keep everything in working order throughout the base.

"Charmingly cozy," the human nonchalantly noted. "Now show me to them."

"Just hold on for a second, General."

The caretaker nervously nodded and removed a bowl from the table to reveal a series of knobs and levers which he systematically began to turn and pull. A process he had practiced for endless hours until he had the entire code known by heart and continued to practice during the lonely hours of the day. The process was long and it was slow, for he had to remember a thirty-step process of twisting knobs, typing hieroglyphs, and cranking small levers.

"Singiz!" He exclaimed.

Finally the large stone dining table responded and split apart, opening up to reveal a large staircase. Cautiously he motioned for his guest to move first. This was unnecessary for the human had begun his descent before the Caretaker had been given a chance to truly deliver the motion- another thing that bothered the twitching alien.

Slowly he crept to the side, opening a small cabinet and receiving a small blaster-pistol and concealing in beneath his robe. Maybe it was the years of being alone, but something about the human had him on edge and he was not to be fooled in his home.

The subterranean section of the colony stunk of an old, forgotten scent that loomed over every inch of its dull features. A sort of sour smell like that of mildew mixed with some unknown gaseous scent. There was not a chair or luxury device of any sorts to be seen on this level, for it was only a place of strict procedure and business…That and it hadn't been manufactured for the comfort of organics.

When he joined the human he saw he examining the rows upon rows of machinery. There were several racks dangling with tan colored hominid machines, each and every single one being completely dormant. They were something that hadn't been seen in active duty for well over six years as far as the galaxy was concerned- all of them being melted down after the Civil War. But they weren't all gone, for here was a bunker full of them in stasis- vehicles, equipment, and every variant.

Battle droids. A small army of them totaling around 3,000 kept in perfect stasis for ten years.

The human stood apathetically nodding his head as he overviewed the scene, his finger casually stroking the hair upon his chin. He seemed amused by this, but not at all approving, or reminiscent. He just seemed to say O there they are!

"These computers… do they have the Xel'Ran coordinates and pass codes?" Dunes asked, approaching a data pad that monitored the dormant droid army's status.

"Yes…everything associated with the Neolos is right here, my lord." The alien cautiously looked over the stranger who had become very suspicious- the Caretaker had a great perception of character and something about this man was proving mighty suspicious.

"I would say these troops need a wake-up. Let us begin then," the General said with a clap of his hands. He smiled in a reassuring fashion to the Caretaker, but the alien could now make it out for what it really was. The smile was a softly defined mask that hid the human's true purpose. Most alarming to him was the noted fact that the lightly gleaming silver handle within the man's sash. The man had tried to hide this infamous weapon, but it couldn't fool the fastidious Caretaker.

Jedi

There's a Jedi in the Citadel! That was the only thought that crossed the alien's mind. The mere thought resulted in an increased amount of pumping between his three hearts, and the veins of his neck began to bulge, but were luckily concealed beneath a far reaching collar of his robe. He had to do something before the Republic's agent of deceit destroyed what they had kept so secret for so long.

"Sure…" he responded softly. "If only you can give the clearance documents?"

He would have to kill the Jedi Knight. Take him out quickly and then when he was dead he'd hijack the vessel he'd arrived in and use it to reconnect with the Confederate forces. They needed to move the reserve to a more secure location as soon as possible.

"Excuse me?" The human gave him a puzzled look. "There is no time, Caretaker. Most of the chain of command is disorganized and I was sent here on official business for some much needed aid."

"I can't allow you access unless you provide proper identification," he said sternly. His hand was creeping into his robe.

He had to be quick or the Jedi would cut him down without a second thought.

"No need for this to get messy now…" he saw that the human's – the Jedi's – hand was gripping at the hilt of his weapon.

That is when the Caretaker raised his concealed pistol, hands frantically quivering as he pointed the weapon. The human only responded with a long, expressionless stare.

"Drop it, Pegua!" he shouted, finger confidently pressing against the weapon's trigger. His nervous fingers kept him from instantly pulling the trigger as he should have done.

The human only sighed before gently pulling the chrome-finished crescent handled device- much like the one the great Count Dooku carried. In a non-threatening manner he tossed the device to the alien's feet and he raised his hands in a harmless fashion. A gesture of surrender or of malicious intent the Caretaker could not tell.

"There is no need for this Tar'Gash," he stated in a poignant tone. "You do not need to die here. I can promise you that there will still be a spot for one of your expertise when this army is operational once more. Just put the weapon down and maybe we can –"

"Quiet lith!"

He wasn't a fool. Tar'Gash knew exactly what the cornered knight was attempting. He was trying to get in his head- take advantage of him that is. But he wouldn't let him. He would kill him first!

The sound of an energy weapon being discharged cracked the silent room and all stood still. Tar'Gash and the Jedi's eyes remained locked during those precious seconds …but after a few moments the Caretaker's lower right eye began to change from marsh-green to a dark purple in complexion. This was the color of his species' blood.

With a graceless 'thud' the Caretaker fell, a smoldering crater now occupying the right temple of his long head. His fingers twitched for an additional five minutes after everything else had stopped working.

"Neela, you know I had things under control," Dulon – or as he was currently referred as: Dunes – picked his discarded lightsaber from the ground and clipped in to his sash once more. This time he didn't even bother trying to conceal the curved weapon.

"Whatever you say, but I thought we'd save ourselves a few minutes of negotiation," the young female entered the room. Her flesh was a bright red, her head bare other than two large fins where her ears should have been.

"Whatever the case," he said, while carefully stepping over the still twitching corpse, "he would have made our job her much easier if he were alive. Situations don't always need to be solved so barbarically."

The female was already at the droid control panel which she analyzed for a few seconds before withdrawing a keypad encrypted her native tongue's alphabet. Her fingers moved with great speed and accuracy as she began to type in new commands into the system.

"I do hope we didn't just kill the one thing that could have allowed this plan to work," Dulon said casually looking over the rows of newly acquired troops. "You sure that's not beyond your abilities?"

"Don't worry, Commander, I'll have these gear heads up and a'bout in no time." The amphibian female cast a smile to her commander.

They had a very trusting relationship and they both knew this was the thing that would bring them back and hopefully provide them a second chance.