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I: Prologue

Agent Kallus stood waiting in the hanger bay with two dozen of his finest men. All of them wore fresh, gleaming white battle gear that glowed in the florescent lighting. Kallus himself wore his freshly cleaned ISB uniform decorated with his medals and badges of honor.

He studied the two perfect rows of a dozen Storm Troopers that flanked either side of the hanger walkway, searching for any flaws in the formation. He needn't have worried; all of the men stood perfectly at attention with their blaster in their arms. It was an impressive sight, and he hoped the newcomer would think the same.

Kallus had been angry when he'd gotten the order from the Inquisitor to receive the ship that carried someone who would take over his mission to capture the rebels on Lothal. He felt that it was his right to take them down, considering the fact that he'd fought them so far. Then the Inquisitor told him that it was on the orders of Darth Vader that the Sith Lord's own apprentice was taking over.

The idea that a Sith Lord was coming was enough to shut him up.

He restrained his frustration as an Imperial transport ship entered the hanger, coming to a rest in front of him. He held his breath as the door hissed open, some part of him excited to meet a Sith in person. They were legends of awe amongst the Imperial forces.

His hopes shattered as the figure emerged. It was a girl dressed in black leather gear and wrapped in a black cloak with a large hood that covered the top half of her face, revealing only her pale nose and mouth. She looked young, somewhere in her teens (he couldn't be precise with her face hidden by the hood). She glided silently down from the ship and across the floor towards him, making less noise than a ghost.

Kallus was furious. Not only was he losing his command, but he was giving it up to a child! The indignity of it had him fuming, though he gave no outward signs of it. He could tell that his men were feeling much the same way. Even so, he bowed as she approached, flanked on either side by an Imperial guard dressed in red cloaks and wielding lightsaber pikes. Neither of them appeared to be much older than the girl, though once again, it was hard to tell with their faces covered.

"Welcome, my lady, to the Imperial starship the Overshadow," he said formally. "I trust your trip was pleasant?"

The girl said nothing.

Kallus shifted in place uncomfortably. There was something... Wrong about the girl, something dangerous. He could tell that his men were thinking much the same, though to their credit, they remained still.

"Well... Yes. Shall we head to the command center and update you on the situation?" He was sounded much less certain this time.

She still said nothing, and she took no action to move away from her position. Her guards did much the same.

As unnerving as her silence was, Kallus couldn't help but feel a flash of anger. She was pouting like a child! He was officially convinced that this girl was nothing but a spoiled brat living off of her master's fame and-

His thought was cut short as her hand shot out from within the folds of her cloak. A sudden force tightened around his throat and lifted him into the air, cutting off his air supply and leaving his feet to dangle helplessly. He watched as she tightened the circle that her thumb was making with her first and middle fingers. As her fingers closed, more pressure was added to his throat, making his vision swim.

The troopers started nervously, trying to decide if they should jump to his aid or continue to allow their new commander to work. Either option had its consequences.

"Agent Kallus," the Sith girl's hissed, her voice cold as ice. "You were tasked with destroying the rebels and capturing their Jedi commander, and yet you've failed at every turn. Now, my master has sent me to clean up the mess that you've made. You're a disgrace to the Empire!" She continued to apply more and more pressure until it felt like Kallus's neck would snap. Darkness swam across his vision. "However, you have been a great asset to the Empire before with your victory on Lasan. It is because of this that you're being forgiven for your failures."

With that, she dropped her hand. Kallus fell to the ground in a heap, sucking in great lungfuls of air as the world spun around him. Some distant part of his mind registered that she was still speaking.

"Your troops are a different matter."

Immediantly, her guardsmen kept forward, their pikes activating as they moved. They passed outside of his sight, but he heard the unmistakable sound of lightsabers passing through the air and the cries of pain that followed. Shouts accompanied blaster fire as his men tried to fight back. All the while, the Sith did nothing beyond stand and observe the devistation.

All too soon, silence arrived. Kallus dared a glance backwards and saw corpses. All of the men he'd assembled to impress the Sith lay silent and unmoving along the floor, slash marks still glowing with heat. The guardsmen stood silently among them like they'd been there forever.

The Sith started forward, passing Kallus on the ground. She paused to deliver one final message before continuing on her way, her guardsmen trailing after her.

"You been forgiven once. You won't recieve such mercy a second time."

.

.

.

He was called Dragoon. No matter how hard anyone tried, they could never get anything more than that out of him. Not that anyone really tried very hard. After all, he was just one of countless drifters in search of work that passed through the small cantina located in the Outer Rim. Granted, he'd hung around longer than most people, but as long he kept spending money, the barkeep couldn't care less who he was.

No one had ever seen his face, even when he ate or drank. He always hung back in the dark, shadowy corners out of sight. His outfit was made up of scattered armor pieces and leather, all bound up by cloth wrappings. A wrist guard covered his left wrist with a screen located next to the back of his hand and several buttons and command keys on the other side, next to his palm. Fingerless black gloves covered his hands, while his feet rested in matching boots. A brown and grey hood covered the top of his head, and unless he was eating, a matching cloth covered his face from the nose down. And if the hood wasn't enough, a pair of large, round goggles with dark lenses wrapped around his head, shielding his eyes from view.

Once, when Dragoon had first arrived, some week and a half ago, a drunk punk had come over and tried to force him to reveal his face. It wasn't the alcohol that had made him pass out on the floor that night. Or his three friends either, for that matter. Since then, no one bothered him about his face.

The night was going much the same as any other; a bunch of drunk guys singing songs and getting into fights which led to betting which led to winners getting even more drunk. All the while, Dragoon rested in the corner and watched the proceedings quietly. A barmaid was laughing loudly at the men as she made her way around, refilling empty cups as she went. When she found her way to Dragoon, she gave a wink and a giggle.

"Hey there sir, are you thirsty?" She gave him a not-so-subtle smile, leading to some angry grumbling from the other patrons. There was just something about the dark and mysterious traveler thing that made women go crazy.

Before he could respond, a beeping sounded from his wrist guard. Immediantly, he brought the screen forward to get a better look at the message that was scrolling across it. It was just two simple words.

"It's time."

He stood. "I'm afraid I'll have to skip that drink," he informed her as he made his way towards the door.

"Wait, where are you going?" She asked, shocked by his sudden change in demeanor.

"Thank you for letting me stay here, but I have important matters to attend to elsewhere. Good bye." Without another word, the stranger hurried out the door and into the night. As he made his way towards the spaceport where his ship was docked, he smiled.

"Lothal awaits," he whispered to himself. "As do the Jedi."