"If injury is to be done to a man, it should be so severe that his vengeance need not be feared."

-Machiavelli

Chapter 1

Hot Pursuit

Location: Fastoon. Time: 0600 hours. A solitary figure was standing in the cockpit of a 50-foot mobile crane in the middle of a junkyard, Plasma Striker in hand. The figure crouched, looking across the horizon. The city was so peaceful at sunset. The lights glowed, outlining the buildings in colors of red, blue, and everything else those architects and fashion designers could come up with. The figure was perfectly content with a hooded jacket, a pair of pants, and a bandana- his exact clothing for this operation. He raised his weapon and looked into the scope. He squinted one eye closed, and adjusted the maximum zoom toggle. He checked to make sure the silencer was firmly attached. Funny-looking things, Plasma silencers. They looked just like the needle protruding from the actual weapon. Oh well. No matter, thought the figure. Tonight wasn't the time to think about the inner workings of weapons developers. This was his mission. This mission may just be the most important of his career. His comlink chirped.

"Kilo-1-Delta, come in. Are you there? Over."

"I'm here, Foxtrot-1-Golf. Of course you had to choose the postapocalyptic setup, over." replied the figure named Kilo.

"Do we have much choice? Over."

"Hooah, Foxtrot. We got Charger to thank for that. Over."

"Do you see the POI? Over," Foxtrot asked.

"Roger," replied Kilo. "He doesn't look anything different than the rest of us, though. And while I'm thinking about it, why didn't you get me a Plasma Slayer? Over."

"Because the rest of our marksmen weren't able to rack up enough kills in time. So until you get your first actual mission, you're stuck with the good old Striker. Think about it. If looks kill, the minute someone sees you with a Striker, they burst into flames."

"Very funny. I have eyes on the target. He's just standing there. Can we confirm that this is where they're meeting? Over."

"Be advised, this is the best our intel could uncover. If he's there, the other will be there, too. Over."

"Understood, Foxtrot, but with all due respect, do you remember the last time you told me that?" asked Kilo.

"Well, we thought we were dealing with ghost dots, weren't we? Besides, you were burning in fast enough to miss most of the missiles."

"Yeah, slight problem: I don't have hoverboots because you advised against it. So don't be surprised if I blame you in my report."

"Like you ever surprise me, Kilo-1-Delta. Now get in the game. Out."

With that, Kilo tapped his ear with his index finger, ensuring he would not be able to communicate with Foxtrot. He rested his Striker on the open cabin of the crane, his finger on the trigger and his eye on the scope. The target was in his sights. It pained Kilo to point a gun at the first target. He's just standing there, smoking and loitering. Why can't I take the shot now? thought Kilo. Another figure appeared next to Kilo's target. The second target, a Cragmite. Kilo shifted his scope over to the other figure, away from the smoke cloud that now enveloped the first due to his smoking. A hand reached out of the smoke cloud with something closed inside it. The Cragmite took two long digits from one arm and took the object from the hand reaching out of the cloud. The Cragmite looked at it, apparently in awe. The Cragmite put the object in its armor, and then talked to the smoke cloud. It paused, then nodded, then nodded again. It looked straight at Kilo, who was more than 100 meters away, took something out of its armor and threw it. Kilo followed the object with his scope.

Oh boy. Agorian cocktail. Kilo jumped from the crane as a huge explosion tore apart the cockpit he was standing in mere seconds ago. He felt the explosion on his back. His adrenaline rushed. He landed on a platform, rolling as soon as his feet brushed the surface. He ran along it, and as he did, he heard gunfire and felt bullets whiz by him, some ricocheting off his standard armor. There was a wall up ahead made of the sides of cargo containers. Ah, no biggie, thought Kilo, still running. That looks about as high as my training course back home. Immediately, he looked for something that could function as a wall. He looked to his right, but no such luck. He looked to his left- perfect! A giant, hollow cylinder made of cement, tiled at just the right angle. Kilo jumped at the side of it, and as soon as he made contact, he pushed himself away from it with his arm and leg. The force was enough to send him over the wall feet first, with just a swipe of the hand needed to ensure he made it over. He hit the ground, executing another roll as his comlink chirped.

"Kilo-1-Delta, what's going on out there?"

"They knew I was here," replied Kilo, panting as he ran.

"Running wasn't part of the plan, Kilo-1-Delta."

"When you see an Agorian cocktail flying at you, you don't exactly stand there thinking about running, you do it."

"Where'd they get an Agorian cocktail?"

"Three hunches of mine: it was homemade, which is extremely unlikely; it was purchased from Grummelnet or MegaCorp or another weapons vendor; or it was purchased from Destructopalooza, DreadZone, the Agorian Battleplex. You know, one of the lethal combat arenas."

"How d'you know it's extremely difficult to make an Agorian cocktail?"

"Cause I've tried it before. Oh, hey," added Kilo, "Can I return fire?"

"You know the rules of engagement: Shoot if they shoot first."

"That's all I needed to hear. Out." Without hesitation, Kilo pulled a small Constructo Pistol out of his armor holster and started blind firing behind him while he was running down an alley. I need somewhere I can face these guys, he thought to himself. I'm definitely not hitting any of them this way. Oh, yeah! The construction site! Kilo ran to the end of the alley and broke hard right. A bullet passed right in front of his eyes. Kilo dropped and slid along the sidewalk for 20 feet until he spotted a blockade of trash cans in his way. He prepared to jump over them. Sliding closer, he readied his legs. Now! He bent his knees and his feet dug into the ground. As they did, his upper torso broke contact with the sidewalk. Kilo put both hands on two different cans, and vaulted over safely, landing on his feet and running again. He came to the end of the sidewalk and immediately turned left.

Why is Fastoon so deserted all of a sudden? Not that I'm complaining, but I can't be the only one that notices. Kilo looked to the horizon, searching for the huge skeleton building. There! To the right! However, Kilo saw a problem. It was too far away. He talked into his comlink again.

"Foxtrot-1-Golf, request teleport to construction site!"

"Copy, Kilo-1-Delta. Standby for teleport." Kilo closed his eyes, counted to three in his head, and opened his eyes. The teleport was better than he thought it would be. He was at the construction site, sure, but he was also on top of building, the very top. He crouched down, pulled out his Plasma Striker, holstered his Constructo pistol, and brought his left eye down to the scope. No clear shots. In fact, he didn't see anything at all from where he was. Just-

A large force hit him in the back. It felt like a boot, but it could have been the butt of a gun. Either way, Kilo was falling 90 stories. He saw his Plasma Striker hit the dirt and burst into a million pieces among bits of scrap. Kilo was going to end up the same way. He was falling, falling…

And then his parachute deployed. Kilo was jerked back. As he floated down towards his broken Plasma Striker, he grabbed the handles of his deployed parachute. He felt like his spine had been ripped out. Since when did I have a parachute? Oh, wait, I installed it, didn't I? Huh. Short-term memory loss at my age sounds like a disaster. Kilo's feet hit the ground hard, barely missing a large wall of concrete that would turn him into a pancake. Kilo rolled for a while, grunting in pain. Finally, after almost an eternity, the rolling stopped. Kilo rose shakily to his feet. There was no trace of his attacker. Kilo spun around, checking for any signs of life. He looked back up at the building. He turned around and started walking. But not two steps in, there was a sickening shnnk.

Kilo's eyes contracted. He let out a weak "Ah," his mouth open and frozen in pain. He grabbed his left rib cage, and he felt the knife still buried inside his lung. His wound felt warmer and stickier than the rest of his body. The knife had another hand on it, and that hand ripped the knife out of Kilo's chest, causing Kilo to once again give a weak cry of pain. Kilo fell over. He couldn't breathe. He knew his hand was covered in blood. His killer walked over to him and got down on Kilo, one knee on his stomach. The figure was lombax. It spoke in a metallic voice, his helmet disguising his identity.

"Well, look who we have here," the figure said. "I've been waiting a long time for this."

And with that, he thrust the blade through Kilo's heart.

Kilo's mind was reeling. There was a huge whirlpool of the whole scenario, start to finish, but backwards. Oh, God, this hurts my eyes.

At last, it stopped. Kilo looked around. He was laying on the ground in a simulation room. The roof and walls were all metal. A series of small, glowing white panels covered the floor. But there was one more thing there: his murderer. This figure was wearing a simulation suit, as was Kilo. It had all been fake.

The figure's helmet retracted. It was none other than Alister Azimuth. He looked at Kilo and said-

"Open a tab, Kaden."

"I had you on the ropes," replied Kilo, who was now identified as Kaden.

"I know you did. That's why I got you first," replied Alister, helping Kaden up.

"You could at least kill me when you stab me the first time. It's painful as hell."

"Sorry. I can't see out of this thing perfectly clear. Anyway, you've still got the knife."

"Huh?" Kaden looked down at his chest. There was a black knife handle that looked much like the real thing. "Oh. No biggie." He grabbed it and wrenched it off of his armor. It wasn't a real knife, just an extremely realistic knife handle magnetized to the armor. The blood was just special effects, as well. "These simulations are pretty good, you know that?" he asked his white and red friend. "They can generate simulation worlds larger than the room itself, the world looks and feels realistic, the pain is almost identical…"

"It's the Praetorian Guard. They're the best."

"I think I could improve on it. Hey, Alister, I thought I lost you over the wall."

"You did. I had to use my hoverboots." Kaden looked at his friend's feet. They were indeed enclosed in Alister's hoverboots.

"Oh, come on. That's not fair."

"The enemy isn't fair, Kaden. You handled the situation perfectly. The only problem is that you were up against me. Nobody's beaten me in this simulation room since I joined."

"How about the hoverboot course? What about freaking hoverball?"

"Kaden, I've told you a thousand times. If you want to have worthy hoverball opponents, join the Guard's team! I'm not coordinated enough to throw a tiny Nanotech-sized ball through my legs and hit the bullseye."

"Well, you've got enough space between your legs if you ever want to," replied Kaden as the pair walked to the simulation exit.

"Har-de-har-har, Kaden. Don't try that kind of humor with anyone else here. I'm fine with it cause we're tight, but everyone else…they'll floor you in two seconds."

"Please. I'm a perfectly toned, six-foot lombax with reflexes like the devil quick limbs, and a knack for freerunning. I can handle myself in a fight." The exit door slid open, and they walked out, still talking.

"Apparently not, as you just saw not five minutes ago."

"I never said I was a special operations agent. I probably fit into the engineer divisions," replied the yellow-brown lombax as they walked down the hall.

"Not probably, Kaden. It's definitive. You're smarter than a Terachnoid."

"Alright, enough flattery. Let's go check in with Zorven."

"Zorven? You mean the General Kraid Zorven?"

"Yeah. You never saw the posters, did you? 'Zorven's watching.' It meant he'd be overseeing our simulation with the rest of the normal Watchers."

"God...Zorven was watching me? Did I look good?"

"OK. Alister, I know he's the greatest military general in the history of the Omniverse, and that he's your only role model, but please, you're both dudes. At least keep it cool. No asking for his autograph or anything. Alright?"

"Yeah, whatever you say," said Alister, with the voice of an excited child.

"I'm serious. If you make me look bad, then I may not get to be where I want to be."

"Where? Finding first love behind man-sized incubators?"

"Ha, ha," replied Kaden as they entered a room full of other lombaxes. "Now be quiet," Kaden lowered his voice, "Zorven's watching." They wandered around the room in silence. This was the Watcher room. The Watchers were people pulled out of nowhere, usually troublemakers, and ordered to watch the simulation. Each Watcher got a helmet just like the ones that the participants wore. Via a first-person viewing camera in the helmets, the Watchers could individually monitor every participant as they pleased.

As Kaden walked around the Watcher room, he recognized a few of the lombaxes that had seen his performance. There was Sergeant Grathmac, the only red and white lombax who ever split a Cragmite perfectly in two. There was General Kemak, who to this day was the only lombax, and for that matter, contestant, to successfully complete DreadZone. And there was Edan, Kaden's pyrotechnic friend. Edan was the same as Kaden, but a bit more out of shape. Of course, Edan didn't have eye surgery when he was three, like Kaden, but their career paths were different. Kaden was here by choice. Edan was here by law.

Edan had a natural calling to be a punk. He loved watching things explode, especially if they were molded into the shape of a Terachnoid or a Grok or a Teratrope or a Nether; even better was the actual living organism itself. If it blew up, Edan wanted to have it. But he was also a troublemaker. Most lombaxes who lived in Edan's neighborhood would give their own far-fetched tales as to why he was so evil. Some say his parents went out for a date late at night, and Edan somehow managed to get the holo-vision stuck on the All-Horror broadcast just in time to see someone get their eye stabbed out. Others would tell you he found a dead Zyphoid in his backyard and decided to play Doctor with it. And the rest would claim the most outlandish theory of all: that he had an abusive father who played hoverball with his friends and used Edan as the ball.

Whatever the case, Edan was always in trouble. He sprayed graffiti on walls with obscene words and unnamed parts of the anatomy. He jumped off a building to cause panic, then deployed a parachute, which enraged Fastoon authorities even more. And he stole technology from Megacorp and Pollyx Industries and gave it to Kaden, who refused to take it. Kaden remembered when it happened for the first time…

"Hey Kaden, I got you something."

I took my eyes away from the robot I was upgrading and looked at my garage window. Edan was slipping in with a wide grin and something in his hand.

"Where've you been for the past…" I consulted my holo-watch. "…two hours?"

"Looking for a nice gift you'd like," he replied, still smiling. "Here. Take it."

I took it, and as I did, I recognized its hexagonal shape. I looked at him with wide eyes.

"This is a Terachnoid chip!"

"Yeah, it is. I knew you'd like it."

"I'd like it if you had actually bought it with your own bolts, not stolen it! These aren't for sale! You stole this; I can tell!"

"Calm down, Kaden," he said, his smile slightly smaller. "It's just one. How many do they have? Four million or something like that?"

"Five million, seven hundred fifty two thousand, four hundred and eight. But now you stole one! You do realize they keep inventory of every single one of them? They constantly pulse their locations to the Central Intelligence on Terachnos. I look like I've stolen classified Terachnoid technology!" I sighed. "How many units of the Polaris Defense Corps were on your striped yellow tail as you left the planet?" My question answered itself as a siren came from outside my house. I looked out of my window. It looked like the whole of Terachnos was on our trail. About seven thousand ships were in view. A broadcast came from one of them.

"This is the Polaris Defense Corps! We read stolen Terachnoid technology in your residence! Come out with your hands up or we will open fire!"

I sighed and looked at Edan. "We're going to do what they say. You're going to tell them that you stole their technology, and that I had absolutely nothing to do with it. OK?" Silence came from my friend. "OK?!" I said with more force.

"Fine," said Edan. I opened my garage and started to walk out, hands above my head. Unfortunately, I didn't duck, and my head ran into the door.

"Ow," I said stupidly. I crouched down, hand still over my head, and waddled out. I turned around to see Edan limbo under the door, hands at his side and relaxed.

"Hands in the air!" came the voice again. Edan sighed and put his hands up.

"It was me! He had nothing to do with this!" he yelled. "Thank you," I mouthed. As I did, I tasted something metallic in my mouth. I also became aware of a warm liquid running down my face from my nose. I sniffed, hoping to stem the flow of blood.

"We'll see how that holds up in court, lombax!"

I really hope that doesn't come back to haunt me, thought Kaden as he looked at Edan. So many more memories came rushing back. The heist at Torren IV. The hoverball championships on Fastoon. Good times… thought Kaden. Absorbed in his thoughts, he was unaware that there was a hand on his shoulder, until someone spoke to him.

"Come on, son," said the voice. "Let's go."

Kaden turned around and looked at the lombax behind him. General Zorven was talking to him in a stern but friendly way. Nothing about the veteran hero seemed negative. His body was relaxed. His feet were both facing forward. His brown eyes sparkled with sincerity. It was almost the older, happier brother version of Alister. Well, maybe not the eye patch.

"Corporal, I need to debrief you and Sergeant Azimuth, and I can't be in two places at once. I need you to come with me."

"Yes, sir," said Kaden hastily. "Sorry, sir. I was just thinking…"

"Looked more like you were in a trance, son," said the general.

"I would hazard a guess that it did," said Kaden with a breathy chuckle. "Where are we going, General?"

"The conference room. Probably the most boring area of the whole camp."

"Well, that's quite a strong opinion, sir. Are opinions alright here?"

Zorven chuckled. "You're funny, Corporal. Walk with me."

And so they walked. Back out of the Watcher room, down the hall in the same direction Kaden was walking before, they talked.

"What kind of work were you thinking of when you signed up for the Guard?" asked Zorven.

"Honestly, I started out thinking I wanted to be a special operations agent. But then I thought I really wanted to start digging into the science divisions. It comes naturally for me," said Kaden.

"Oh, really?" asked Zorven, seemingly interested. "Well, if you want to be the best of the best, you must have your sights set high."

"I do, sir."

"There's something that might interest you."

"What is it?"

"Unfortunately, I can't tell you that. Not until you're actually in the science division and high enough in the ranks. Right now, that's classified info for you. Sorry."

"I understand, General."

Zorven smiled at Kaden. He stopped at a door and put his hand on the knob.

"Alright. You ready, Corporal?"

"Ready, sir."

"Then here we go." With that Zorven opened the door and went inside, Kaden following suit.

As Kaden entered the conference room, he couldn't believe that it was almost completely stereotypical of covert agencies. It had the oval table, the black chairs, the high, metal walls, the holo-projectors built into the table, the works. The only difference was the weapons hanging everywhere. Constructo pistols, shotguns, and bombs; Plasma Strikers and Slayers; seemingly dead Sonic Eruptors; Lava Guns; Vipers; even the artwork was of weapons and violence. Kaden thought it odd that a conference room was also an armory of sorts. Whatever, he thought. The Guard has its reasons. Plus, he didn't want to criticize. Zorven was watching. Kaden saw Alister sitting down on the chair to the left at the very end of the table. Kaden walked over and sat next to him. Zorven took the chair opposite Kaden and put his elbows up on the table, hands folded. He looked at Kaden directly, who fidgeted uncomfortably.

"Congratulations, Corporal," he said. "I believe you are worthy of graduation, maybe even a promotion if I can get it."

"Thank you, sir." Kaden was all smiles.

"However, that doesn't mean the missions was without mistake."

"I understand, sir," said Kaden.

"Number one: you actually let the transfer happen. You had more than one shot where you could have painted the Cragmite red. In a real scenario, you have to make sure that the package never actually gets handed off. You have to take the shot at the right time, make it look like it might actually happen, then you take the shot and scare the hell out of the guy in possession."

"Yes, sir."

"Number two: you didn't check the top of the construction building for enemies when you got there. That's also a life-or-death situation. If you just start running right into it, you might miss a couple of snipers or special operations guys, and then it's game over."

"Understood, sir. I'll do better in the field."

"Good. I'm glad to hear that. Now, if you want any pointers, I can give them to you if I'm available. There are so many young Guardsmen who could be so much better if they just asked for guidance. Don't be one of those Guardsmen, Corporal.

"You may leave us now, Corporal. I still need to talk to Sergeant Azimuth."

"Thank you, sir." Kaden got up and left the conference room. Ask for help? Of course. Kaden wanted to succeed at everything he did. Why not ask Zorven about joining the hoverball team? After all, since he came back from front line work, he showed a very bountiful passion for hoverball. His desire was so strong that Zorven not only became the referee during every match on Fastoon, including professional hoverball, he was also the Head of the Galactic Hoverball Committee. He was ideal for Kaden's question. But now as not the time. Zorven was still talking to Alister. Besides, I have another little activity to get to…

Kaden walked down halls for about three minutes. He stopped to look behind some of the doors. He passed the science wing, where they were experimenting with some kind of cryogenic grenade. He passed the engineering area, where he saw two lombax-sized robots fighting each other with mixed martial arts. One's head was disconnected from its body. Two lombaxes in the room with grease stains on their overalls wrote down something on their clipboards from behind safety glass. Kaden took his eyes away and looked ahead of him. There was the exit. This part of the science division was the right one. This is where he was instructed to meet.

Kaden walked right out of the exit. Fastoon, the real, sunny, friend-filled Fastoon. It looked so much better than the simulation. Famous for the Purple Horizon effect. Home of the lombaxes, and the number one tourism spot for hoverball enthusiasts. Unfortunately, Kaden was in the parking lot, so some of the starships were obstructing his view. He looked at them. I'm making progress towards a new one. Course it'll be a lot better than these old junkies.

He turned to the right, and went down a sidewalk to the dorms. The Lombax Praetorian Academy was extremely confusing at times, especially the pathways. The Academy took up five kilometers in length and two in width; you were expected to get lost in your first year there. That's why some of the upperGuardsmen had been stationed on the routes to the different areas where they had sessions.

Kaden walked for a while, just taking in semi-deep breaths and seeing the sights. "Worthy of graduation, maybe even a promotion if I can get it." To have General Kris Zorven say that in person was…more than an honor. Is that even legal? Can I hear that with my own ears? For some reason, Zorven made others around him uncomfortable, but he had no trace of negative energy in him. In fact, he was a friendly lombax, or at least that's how all the stories went. The only thing Zorven had wrath for was his enemy. Kaden would hate to be his enemy.

Kaden stopped in front of a door in the dorm area. It was a janitor's closet. Don't know why they bother putting us with these things. Just use the old robots deemed unsafe for combat. He walked inside it, closing it as he went. Why here? He waited. Seconds turned to minutes. His anxiety built. The janitor might open the door. He pulled out a tranquilizer and hid behind a crate. He waited, crouching and hoping he could not be seen. The door opened a minute later. A female voice came.

"Kaden? Is that you?"

Kaden stashed his tranquilizer in his belt and stood up. He looked into the face of his girlfriend, Jasmine. Kaden loved everything about her, from her violet eyes to her silky fur. She stood as high as he did, but was not as well-built. She looked at him with an odd expression on her face.

"My Guardsman in shining armor?" she said sarcastically.

"I just thought that the janitor might come along."

"You do realize they never use this place?"

"I do, but I figured with my luck, the one time they did use it would be when I was in it."

Jasmine smiled, then threw her arms around him. Kaden wished he could return the favor, but he was having trouble breathing. Jasmine relaxed her arms, and Kaden gasped for air.

"Sorry," Jasmine said.

"Don't worry," Kaden panted, massaging his throat. "I just went toe-to-toe with Alister. I doubt anything could harm me in any real way."

"Don't start thinking you're invincible, Kaden. You'll just end up getting killed."

Kaden sighed through his nose, enjoying their embrace. As he thought about it, they never really had enough moments like this. Kaden breathed softly, following an invisible rhythm, until finally, Jasmine said,

"Kaden?"

"Yeah?"

"You're purring."

"Oh, sorry." Kaden felt his face grow hot, and he knew he was blushing. But that didn't matter, even if Jasmine could see him, he was a lombax, and lombaxes never really showed their blush because of the whole fur thing. He loved fur. It was so useful. Unfortunately, it was also easily flammable and it was hard to get mud-like liquids out of it. You take a shower every day with that stuff in your fur, and it'd still be there after a week. Luckily, Kaden hadn't had a mud run since six months ago, when he graduated to his fifth year in the Praetorian Guard. It made him look clean.

"No, don't stop," said Jasmine. "I get all warm inside when you do that."

Kaden smiled, and resumed breathing through his nose. His throat vibrated with every breath. It felt good. He felt Jasmine's grip loosen, and he loosened his in turn. They looked at each other, staring deep into each other's eyes. Kaden could hold her in his arms forever. Unfortunately, he couldn't, because his comlink screeched at him.

"Ring, ring, ring, ringgg…Ring, ring, ring, ringgg… YAAAAAAAAHHHHHHH!"

"Sorry. That's my alarm," said Kaden sincerely. "I'm going to be late for quantum physics class. We're discussing how we can verify that reality is actually real."

"I'm just wondering if that's Alister's voice sped up to an incessant yell," said Jasmine.

"Yeah. I put cameras in his dorm to see what he does when he thinks nobody's looking," said Kaden, rubbing the back of his neck.

"You two have the weirdest friendship of anybody I've ever seen."

"That's what keeps it interesting."

"Well, Kaden, we both need to be somewhere and this isn't it. I'm sorry if I…"
"No, don't apologize," said Kaden quickly. "You didn't do anything that'll harm me in any way."

"Even so, I'll see you tomorrow, Kaden." Jasmine walked off into the Fastoon sunlight. She turned to the right, where Kaden had come from, and disappeared behind the wall.

"Yeah," said Kaden, quietly and sadly. "See you…"

He walked out of the closet and turned left. Off to quantum physics…

As Kaden walked, he started daydreaming about Jasmine. He looked at an image of her and pasted it to the back of his eyelids, still walking. Before he knew it, he was at his classroom door. He looked up at the domed, metallic building, then down at the doorknob. He turned it and entered the room.

You're wondering about a bunch of stuff right now.

The Simulator -Staging Kaden's fake death seemed like a perfect start to a story. The design of the post-simulation room came from the Clone Wars cartoons.

General Kraid Zorven -"Kris" seemed like too much of an earth-like name to use for a lombax. Hence, "Kraid."

Edan - He speaks for himself: He's a rebel.

Kaden's Flashback - Past experiences are extremely helpful yet seriously underestimated assets in creative really give people an idea about the background behind the current situation a character is experiencing.