The Descendant: Echoes of the Revanchist

by darthmaul90

The Old Republic is gone; the last vestiges of it swept away and replaced by Palpatine's Galactic Empire. But as the heroic Rebel Alliance wages their war of independence against Palaptine's machine, the descendant of Revan stands poised to launch his own war against the Empire. Will he be persuaded to join the Rebellion, or will he make his own path amongst the battlefields?

2. The Descendant: Chapter 1

The Descendant, Echoes of the Revanchist – Chapter 1

The Inner Rim Region, Planet Zeltros

4.5 months after the Battle of Yavin

The incessant hum of the sublight engines reverberated throughout the ship, annoying the ship's pilot to no end. He made a mental note to completely go over the ship's engines and locate the problem at their next port of call. They seemed to be slightly out of balance. Not too big a problem, but it would be a great pain to fix. Still, if it wasn't done soon it would progressively get worse until it potentially became a danger to the ship.

He wasn't terribly concerned about the expense… he had more money than he'd ever be able to spend in his life, even if he lived well over a century. But these were dangerous times for a man like him and as such, he was constantly on the move. He hoped the repairs wouldn't take long.

He pressed some buttons on the ship's control panel which brought the ship to a hover, then rose from his chair. Walking back through the cockpit door, he thought about his reason for coming to this world. It was not his first trip to Zeltros, but all other times he'd been here it was for recreation. This was the first time he'd ever been here in a "business" capacity.

Of all the places for two sector Moffs to have a secret meeting, why did it have to be here on a world inhabited by people renowned for their dedication to the pursuit of pleasure, thrills, sexual gratification and general hedonism? Yet it made some sort of bizarre sense to him. After all, who would believe that an Imperial delegation would come to such a world for a secret conference?

Well, the Rebel Alliance did for one. As soon as they'd gotten wind of this meeting, they'd contacted him and his associates, known as Force Revanchist, and tasked them with a mission… find out what the hell the secret meeting was about. He winced. Unlike previous trips to this planet, he suddenly found that Zeltros was overwhelming his senses. All the drinking, dancing, playing of games and Force-knew what else… a planet-wide party was in full swing again. This was the fourth one in less than three weeks. The telekinetic noise from the endless revelries rang in his ears, but he was able to effectively shut it out. He didn't want to even guess at the size of the headache he would be suffering from if he hadn't been able to do so.

He could only laugh. Last time he'd been here, he and his friends had been able to partake in some of the action at a local casino. During one less than memorable moment, he had been walking past a sabacc table when a Twi'lek male had suddenly won the jackpot. A loud chorus of cheers erupted and a drink was accidentally hurled through the air, just missing his head. As a result, he'd stumbled several steps backwards towards another gambling table and caught himself on it.

Only he hadn't caught himself on the gambling table. It was much softer and warmer than the metal he'd expected. With growing embarrassment, he'd turned to find his hands clamped down firmly on the rear end of an exquisitely beautiful Zeltron woman. He remembered the big smile on her face when they made eye contact and she'd seductively wiggled her rear end and twitched her eyebrows.

That incident alone had earned him nine sexual encounter offers, three marriage proposals and a never ending list of jabs and ribs from his friends. And every day thereafter, that woman had left an exorbitant number of messages at his hotel for him… none of which he'd ever answered.

Walking down the long central corridor, past the staterooms, infirmary and galley, he increased his pace. His movements were fluid and graceful, the only sound coming from the rustling of the dark charcoal gray highwayman's coat he wore. Yet like many other things regarding people of his kind these days, looks were deceiving. Carefully woven into the coat was a series of Mandalorian Assault Armor plates. Made from the highly sought after Mandalorian steel, it was among the best form of energy protection in the galaxy. The lining inside was composed of a Mark V Armor Ply alloy which allowed for greater freedom of movement and kept the plates of Mandalorian armor from making too much noise as he moved. His tank top shirt contained an experimental Bacta Weave Underlay that would heal minor wounds in minutes. Finally, the exterior lining of his coat contained a Mark V Sonic Dampening Weave that was useful against sonic and other weapons designed to disable, but not kill. His long, jet black hair flowed freely from his head and the collar of his coat was drawn up, yet it could not cover the lower portion of his clean shaven face which revealed a strong jaw line. Even through the armor, the muscular form of his body was evident. The leather belt around his waist carried several small pouches and only a practiced eye would've been able to detect the long, cylindrical shape under his coat.

His tall, muscular frame radiated power and grace that was plain to see in both his walk and his intense blue eyes. He turned from the corridor into Cargo Hold 2 and his gaze fell upon one of two individuals he had been seeking The first was the slender and strikingly beautiful Zabrak woman who stood a few inches shorter than himself. Maris Brood. She stood with her back towards him as she put on a parachute. She no longer wore her jet black hair in the elaborate braids she had while in exile on Felucia, preferring now to wear it straight where it extended to the middle of her back. Her crown of seven red vestigial horns hadn't changed and her light brown had taken on a softer more feminine appearance since leaving Felucia.

She still wore the smoky gray eyeshadow with just a hint of red eyeliner on the underside to accent them though. And her skin tone had reverted from the dark-side induced pasty white to her natural fair peach color which the man found most appealing. Her sensuous burgundy lips curled into a pleasant smile as the man approached her, even though she hadn't turned to look at him. For a second, he paused to appreciate just how amazingly beautiful she was.

Her clothing hadn't changed much since Felucia either and still consisted of a black halter top that was actually little more than a leather bikini top. The vertical straps were wide at the top of her shoulders, but narrowed drastically as they worked their way around her underarms. A single thin strap ran horizontally over the rise of her breasts and a second, wider strap actually covered them, maintaining her modesty. Despite that, a slight amount of the lower swell of her breasts was still exposed. It was the only piece of clothing she wore on the top half of her body, leaving much of it rather seductively exposed.

What was different about it now though, was that in the just slightly more than two years that had passed since she departed Felucia, she had made some discreet modifications to it including a Mark V Energy Shield woven into the leather and fabric and a specially crafted Mark V Armor Ply that fit her anatomy like a glove and made it easier for her to sneak around. The same type of experimental Bacta Weave Armor that the man wore was also woven into the inside lining. Her lower legs were protected by a set of grayish-brown boots lined with Mandalorian steel which prevented any kind of avulsion of her feet but she still kept her arms bare.

A Mark V Environmental Underlay had also been woven into her dark gray slacks. It offered her some protection from extreme heat and cold and she wore two black utility belts crisscrossed at her hips. Anyone could clearly see the lightsaber hilt that hung at her side. Since the Empire had yet to take control of Zeltros… and it didn't appear that they would anytime soon… one didn't have to be as careful about restricted or illegal weapons as they did elsewhere.

She sensed the man's approach now and turned to meet his gaze with a bright smile on her face. "Is it time Dahlgen?"

Dahlgen nodded. "Nearly Maris. You all set?"

"Just about," the Zabrak woman answered. She turned her back to him and pointed to her parachute. "Check me please?"

As Dahlgen completed a safety inspection of her parachute, the second person he had been seeking entered. This one was a young teenaged human male and although his hair and eyes were of a lighter brown shade and his face was a little bit rounder, the resemblance between him and Dahlgen was nevertheless, striking. "We're in position now."

"All right," Dahlgen replied. "Is the receiver set up?"

"Just finished it dad," the teenager replied. "We're ready to go."

"Good." Dahlgen gave Maris a pat on the shoulder. "Okay Maris, you're all set." Dahlgen turned back to his son. "As soon as we're out Marsala, you get yourself to the next waypoint and prepare for data transmission. And be ready to extract us at a moment's notice."

"I will dad."

Dahlgen embraced his son, regarding him with love and admiration. "I'm proud of you son. Force be with you."

"Force be with you too dad," Marsala replied. Next, Marsala embraced Maris. "Force be with you as well Maris."

"And the Force be with you Marsala."

Mobquet Swoop Bulding – Exterior Guard House

Standing at his duty post in the guard house, trooper TK8873 looked out over the seemingly endless sea of neon lights, blaring music and revelers of all species that maneuvered through the streets. Not that he could see much. In an effort to keep the Empire's presence on Zeltros hidden, he was manning the guard shack wearing civilian clothes instead of his standard issue uniform and armor. He did his best to avoid the gazes of the various Zeltron women that occasionally walked by, but that wasn't always possible either. Three times in the last ninety minutes he'd endured being smooched by a group of females… a different group each time… that had happened to walk past the guard house. It was embarrassing, considering that he was supposed to be on duty yet he longed to be enjoying the planet wide party that was going on around him. How many was this now since he'd first arrived on Zeltros? Nine… twelve… seventeen… he lost count some time ago. Oh well, there were worse fates.

This wasn't exactly the type of duty he'd signed up for when he'd enlisted in the Stormtrooper Corps two years ago. He'd turned his back on his entire family when he'd enlisted and they'd more or less disowned him as a result. But he'd wanted to prove them wrong; show them all the rightness of his decision. He'd wanted to show them that the Empire was not the oppressive, dictatorial body the Rebel Alliance claimed it was. He'd wanted to show his family that the Empire was not made up of a bunch of bloodthirsty murderers simply looking for their next victims. Yet now, nothing seemed further from the truth and his arguments rung hollow in his mind.

And the Empire didn't particularly look upon him favorably either for some reason. He'd been stationed at this remote outpost now for the past year or so and he still didn't understand why. Though he hadn't graduated at the absolute top of his class, he had still graduated in the top 5% and been one of the few selected to undergo the rigorous AT-AT operations course… a course he'd passed with flying colors.

Yet for some reason the Empire had made him a standard stormtrooper anyway and he'd spent the first year of his enlistment pounding a patrol beat on a Star Destroyer somewhere in the Outer Rim before being sent to this ridiculous assignment on Zeltros. You couldn't even really call where he was an outpost because truth be told, it wasn't. It certainly wasn't anything like what the Empire had said it was going to be immediately before he was transferred. Still, it was the only piece of Imperial owned and controlled property on the entire planet. Once he had arrived, he'd really started asking questions about the Empire's competency. His commander was, at best, a boorish lout. At worst he was a bona fide idiot. Several times TK8873 had gone to his commander with ideas on how to improve security and operations around the facility. And every time, he'd been subjected to a yelling "lecture" about how he was just a lowly trooper and that the officers would do all the thinking and coming up with ideas. He was there to do his job and keep his mouth shut. If he wanted to talk, he could do it on weekend liberty.

Weekend liberty? What the hell was that? His superior always seemed to find some reason to confine TK8873 to the barracks for the weekend so he'd only been outside this installation three times in the past six months. And the last time he'd opened his mouth about security he'd been busted back a rank for it as a "reminder as to who's in charge and who's not around here." He didn't think he was going to get that rank back anytime soon… not as long as his commander was "in charge" anyway. TK8873 was frustrated… frustrated that it seemed no matter what he did, he was never going to accomplish his dreams. Still, there was one good thing about this place… trooper TK5309.

TK5309 was a rarity among the Stormtrooper Corps in that TK5309 was a woman… and a non-human woman at that. She was one of the few women TK8873 knew that had been allowed to serve in the Corps and the only non-human he'd ever seen of either gender in the Corps. TK5309 was what was known as an Arkanian Offshoot… a subspecies of the Arkanian race specially bred by Arkanian scientists and geneticists to excel at specific industrial tasks such as mechanical or technical work. Unlike baseline Arkanians, the Offshoots generally lived shorter lives, had five fingered hands, alabaster skin and human-like eyes. Some were even specially bred to have pointed ears, as TK5309 was. About the only thing Offshoots had in common physically with baseline Arkanians was their white hair.

She'd arrived on Zeltros only a two months ago with the same look that he had… wide-eyed wonder dashed straight to hell. And the commander had been particularly brutal to her, placing her on every crappy detail he could find and even inventing a few just so to spite her. It wasn't fair. TK5309 had scored higher than anyone else in the facility on the physical and mental aptitude tests and had placed second behind TK8873 in the marksmanship test. She'd even surprised everyone by achieving a very high score on an engineering and mechanics exam.

TK8873 was the only one who didn't slight TK5309 because she was female and non-human. That was something that did not make him popular among the other troopers. TK8873 didn't care. In the few months they'd been working together, he and TK5309 had become close friends. In fact, they were the only friends each other had. And he'd been increasingly thinking about taking her into his confidence regarding his misgivings about the Empire. That could prove dangerous however. For all he knew, she could be totally devoted to the Empire and its policies and turn him in to the authorities at the slightest thought of anti-Empire leanings. Still, something about her told him that wasn't the case.

She was with him now in the guard shack. She looked so peaceful, vulnerable as she lay sleeping in a corner. Poor girl had pulled a triple shift… another of their commander's insane attempts to "show her who was boss." It was actually fortunate for her that TK8873 had been posted to the same tower that night. If she'd been posted with anyone else, she would've had to have remained awake. Yet their commander's idiocy on "keeping those two malcontents together" had actually provided her with the opportunity to get some much needed rest. Before she'd finally collapsed an hour ago, TK8873 had promised her that he would only wake her if someone called specifically for her or their shift was over.

Looking back out over the jungle of neon lights and excessive partying, TK8873 was disturbed to see that the lights seemed to have gotten brighter and the noise louder. It was going to be a long night.

Not two hundred meters away amidst the leafy canopies of a darkened nearby park, Dijas Kintaro quietly observed trooper TK8873 through the scope of his high-powered sniper rifle. He could've taken him out easily from this distance but Dahlgen Luzard had ordered him not to engage the guard house unless absolutely necessary. And somehow, Kintaro felt it was going to be necessary on this night.

That was fine with him. A born and raised Mandalorian, he was looking forward to seeing a little action in the near future. Other than constant training, it was the best way to ensure one's skills remained sharp and at the pinnacle of perfection. Some would even argue that combat was better than training. Maybe that was true, but at least training didn't come with the stress of combat.

His dark green and gray Mandalorian armor was accented with brown and it kept him perfectly concealed amidst the tree limbs. In Mandalorian society, the colors of a warrior's armor typically said nothing more than he or she liked that particular combination. But sometimes the colors had special meaning. And Dijas kept this tradition true with green signifying his duty and gray for mourning a lost love. Who or what the lost love was though, was something very few people knew about.

Dijas quit reminiscing to himself and observed TK8873 again. The wind played with the trooper's blond hair that was cut in a flat top style and he did not even try to stifle a yawn. He looked bored and thoroughly displeased with his job that night. Who could blame him? Zeltros was a world for partying and relaxing. Not stuffed shirt Imperials trying to spread their rigid and useless rhetoric.

It was their fifth night here over the past week and Force Revanchist had observed the goings-on in the building from a distance. All was pretty much the same as it had been the previous four times, except for one thing… tonight they were actually penetrating the target building because tonight was the whole reason why they had come to Zeltros in the first place. Force willing, it would also be the last, but one never knew for sure. It was a mission that had been hastily cobbled together, but then Force Revanchist was used to doing missions on the fly. That wasn't the only thing that was different about tonight and he thought he'd better let the others know. He keyed the transmitter in his helmet. "Long range to command."

High above the outpost in the light freighter known as the Silver Horizon, Force Revanchist leader Dahlgen Luzard had donned his own parachute and was being checked over by Maris when the call came in. "How we lookin' down there Dijas?"

"Pretty much the same as last night, although there is one thing," Dijas reported.

Dijas's words had Dahlgen interested. "What? What's the problem?"

"Guard house has only one occupant tonight," Dijas said. "It's had two the past four nights."

The news concerned Dahlgen. "Stay on it. There may be a roving patrol out there and we don't want to have to scrub this mission before it begins."

"I'm on it," Dijas assured him. "Good luck you two. Long range out."

"You're good." Maris completed her inspection of Dahlgen's gear. But instead of patting him on the arm like he'd done to her, she gave him a pat on the backside. Dahlgen was used to it though and ignored it.

Moving forward, Dahlgen activated a control panel and the exterior access door to Cargo Hold 2 opened. Far beneath them, the bright lights of Zeltros's capital city put on a dazzling display of colors and patterns. "Ready?"

Maris nodded. "Mm hm."

Dahlgen keyed the ship's internal comm. "Son, want to give us a countdown?"

"You got it. Five… four… three… two… one… jumpers away!"

Dahlgen leaped out the open access door and into thin air with Maris following him seconds later. As instructed, Marsala immediately set the ship on a course away from the scene. With the only sound being that of the wind whipping at their faces, Dahlgen and Maris descended through the atmosphere.

Near the Power Generator Room

Trooper Lieutenant TK8275 stopped briefly and looked down the corridor to his right. That led to the main reactor room. Only authorized personnel were allowed there and unless there was a problem, he was not one of them. He grunted silently. TK8873's suggestion that they be allowed patrol access to that area actually made sense. But it was not their place to question the whims of those above them in rank. And TK8275 hadn't spent nearly a decade clawing his way up to his current rank to lose it. No way was some young upstart was going to outshine him.

He laughed to himself when he remembered how shocked TK8873 had been when he learned he was getting demoted for "insubordination." He'd even sneered at him to "take it like a man. You're a stormtrooper in the finest fighting unit the galaxy has ever seen." He was confident that TK8873 would no longer be a problem when he finally learned to keep his opinions to himself. Whether that was now or later remained to be seen though.

But then there was that new alien-girl, TK5309. How the hell she had ever gotten accepted into the Stormtrooper Corps was beyond him. TK8275 figured she must be the daughter of some high level bureaucrat somewhere who used his influence to get her posted to the Corps. And then TK8275 couldn't figure out for the life of him why he'd had the misfortune of having her assigned to his unit. Oh well, she was on guard duty right now and out of his hair. Tomorrow he thought he'd assign her to clean up the waste disposal system. That would keep her occupied for a while.

Correction, that would keep them occupied for a while. He was going to assign TK8873 to the same detail. Those two malcontents had grown quite close to each other over the last few weeks. So TK8275 wanted to see just how close they would be to one another after spending nine hours in the sewers together.

TK8275 turned to his left and headed for the turbo lift that would take him up to level four, the main security level. A thought flashed through his mind and he laughed deviously. "Just let me catch those two in bed together," he muttered. "They'll wish all I'd done was bust them back to recruits."

As he boarded the lift, he never saw the Mandalorian in black and gold armor, nor the bizarre looking astromech droid that was with him, slip quietly out of the community refresher and move towards the computer locked blast door that led down to the power generator room. "All right there Chips," the Mandalorian said as he pulled an electronic device from a shoulder bag and attached it to the locking mechanism. "Use that fancy, schmancy sensor of yours and see if anyone is coming this way."

"I'm on it," the droid replied in Basic albeit in a heavily accented electronic tone. Obediently, the droid extended a sensor probe out of the top of his dome shaped head which had an additional curious looking cone shaped structure on top. He began a detailed scan of the ground floor. From beyond the locked door one could hear the incessant noise of the generators so it made obtaining the readings difficult. Still the only person that seemed to be on this level at that moment was the Day Officer and he was sitting at the front desk on the other side of the building. No one else appeared to be coming in their direction. "Nothing nearby or approaching," the droid replied, reporting his findings to the Mandalorian.

"Keep scanning there Chips," the Mandalorian said as his fingers moved deftly over the electronic device. "I don't want anyone surprising us down here. Hope Cronus's little contraption here does its job." The Mandalorian had to laugh as the device blinked, flashed and occasionally beeped. Security around this place was as they had figured, a joke. There hadn't been anywhere near the number of sensors one normally expected in an Imperial facility… such as it was… and the ones that were present were easily avoided. Actual full time security guards numbered less than a dozen and the number of stormtroopers currently present was also laughable. Normally, they might expect to find an entire company of troops guarding a top-secret meeting in a place like this. But after all their preliminary investigations, it seemed like only a platoon was stationed here for this conference.

The device the Mandalorian had placed on the locking mechanism suddenly beeped and displayed four numbers. With a sly grin and a "simple" to no one in particular, he removed the device and punched the code into the door lock, ushering the astromech droid through as it opened. He was mildly annoyed. He preferred a straight fight to all this sneaking around. But Dahlgen was the boss, or "chief" as Dannix Krell preferred to call him, and Dannix was always willing to do what the chief wanted, especially if it caused problems for the Empire. And he had a feeling that there would be plenty of shooting before the night was over anyway.

Unlike the brightness of the hallway, the hallway leading to the power generator room, as well as the room itself, had an overall dismal atmosphere with its dim lighting and the incessant roar of the generators. With his heavy blaster held at the ready, Dannix slowly made his way around the room, checking for potential threats. He really didn't expect to find anyone here since the generators were working fine at the moment, but one could never be too careful.

Dannix was relieved to find no else in the generator room. He may have been Mandalorian, but he wasn't an idiot. One stray blaster shot in here could make the whole facility go sky high. That didn't really appeal to Dannix's sense of self-preservation nor the preservation of his comrades. He holstered his weapon and searched through his shoulder bag again and found what he was looking for… a Dannix Krell custom-made thorium charge. The perfect thing for taking down entire power grids.

A quick scan of the room and Dannix located the junction box where the power coming from the generator was distributed to all parts of the facility. Every installation and building the Imperials built was constructed in nearly the same fashion, right down to the wiring used to power it. There was little room for deviation except when it was absolutely necessary. Fortunately, this was not one of those times. One destroyed transfer box and the entire outpost would be dark for hours. Maybe even days considering where this outpost was.

Dannix shook his head when he discovered that whoever had last accessed the transfer box had carelessly left it unlocked. Although he half suspected some kind of a trap, he had no idea what it could be. Dannix slowly opened the door and peered inside but nothing got his attention. It was almost too easy to plant the charge.

Then he dropped it.

"Osik!"… Mando'a meaning crap… the man yelled. He quickly looked around as if half expecting someone to have heard his outburst amidst all the racket. Dannix looked down at the Basic-speaking astromech droid.

"Watch it clumsy," the droid rebuked. "We don't want to blow ourselves up!"

"Ahhh pipe down Chips and use that fancy sensor of yours to see if we're still alone down here." The droid obediently did as he was instructed but the noise from the generators made readings in here even more difficult than they were in the hallway. Still, nothing appeared to be out of the ordinary for the moment.

"We're clear," the droid replied.

Had someone come to investigate Dannix's sudden outburst, it was unlikely they would've discovered him anyway. With the coloration of his Mandalorian armor, he was all but invisible in the darkened sublevel, despite the armor's gold accents and the soft orange glow that was emanating from a nearby warning light. That, coupled with the upgrades in his helmet gave him plenty of light to see and complete his task. Like Dijas, every one of the colors of Dannix's armor followed the ancient tenet of having some hidden meaning: black was for justice and gold was for vengeance. Also like Dijas, Dannix's reasons for selecting these colors of armor was something very few people were aware of.

Dannix finally got the small explosive device he was trying to plant seated in the proper position. The Imperials were so predictable. That was why he believed in his heart of hearts that the Rebel Alliance would eventually win this blasted Galactic Civil War. The Alliance had creativity and ingenuity behind its tactics and battle plans and they had the sense to modify those plans when something didn't quite go according to those plans. Oh sure, the Empire had a few commanders with the same creativity and ingenuity. But in general, creativity, independent thinking and the ability to modify order when required was something the Empire was sorely lacking.

"There", he said with a nod. "That should do it. Hopefully we won't need it. Now we need to go take care of the guard at the desk and wait for Dahlgen's signal."

Off to Dannix's left, two more figures suddenly stepped from the shadows… a Weequay male and an ultra-rare Lethan red-skinned Twi'lek female. They surprised Dannix who immediately drew his blaster but checked his fire when he saw who they were. Angrily, he looked down at the droid. "I thought you said no one was coming."

"No one was coming," the droid protested. "At least no one who was a threat."

"Just be thankful that they were friends Chips or we could all be taking the final jump right now."

The pair approached and the Twi'lek woman spoke. "Be ready Dannix," her soft, calm voice spoke to the Mandalorian. "Dahlgen will be checking in with us any moment now."

"I'll be ready Katya," Dannix protested. "You guys just be sure you keep as many of the bucket heads busy as possible in case this whole thing goes straight down a black hole."

Stunningly attractive even by her own species' standards, Katya Saren had a set of lekku that extended to just above her rear end… very long by Twi'lek standards. Her face was youthful and innocent looking and while it was common for Twi'lek females to have tattoos on their bodies, especially on their lekku, Katya had decided long ago that no tattoos were necessary for her. Instead, she wore a dark gray head piece that wove its way around her head and down her lekku accompanied by a two-piece combat suit made of a specially woven material known only to members of her species. The way the suit hugged her body left her abdomen, arms and the center of her chest bare, ensuring that she could use her feminine assets when she had to, as Twi'lek women were renowned for doing. A utility belt complete with several pockets and pouches for storing small items completed the outfit and a curved handled lightsaber hung at her side.

A lightsaber made with this particular handle was usually held in the palm of one's hands as opposed to the fingertips as was typical with a straight hilt lightsaber. The use of a curved hilt allowed for more precise movements as well as near-perfect flexibility when engaged in lightsaber-to-lightsaber combat. The hilt's curvature also gave the wielder more power when delivering overhand strikes and would change the angle of the attacks by the merest fraction of a degree. It was usually just enough to confuse and disorient an unsuspecting opponent.

Wielders of the curved hilt lightsaber were almost always masters of the Form II, Makashi style of lightsaber combat. Also known as the Way of Ysalamiri and the Contention Form, it focused primarily on lightsaber-to-lightsaber combat. Since taking up the way of the Force a few years ago, her instruction under Dahlgen made Katya an exception to this. Though she was competent in Makashi, her primary style was a conglomeration of Djem So and Shien, the two variations of Form V, which made her primarily an offensive fighter. Unfortunately, one major side effect of wielding a curved-hilt lightsaber was that they were more difficult to use in blaster-bolt deflection. However, Dahlgen had also taught her how to incorporate some elements of Form III, Soresu and Form I, Shii-Cho into her style. And while she was not capable of fending off thirty or forty blaster bolts a second like a true Soresu master, she knew enough to hold out against a few blaster shots before she got into trouble.

At twenty-seven years of age, Katya Saren was born in the city of Nabat on the Twi'lek home world of Ryloth. As a young child, Katya had passed many a day playing with her best friend, Lupo, in the market places of the city. But her childhood innocence came to a rather abrupt end when was she was six, as the CIS invaded Ryloth and began those who had survived the initial onslaught against Nabat into captivity.

During the invasion, Katya and her parents managed to survive by hiding out in the tunnel system under Nabat which the Twi'lek's typically used as a shelter from dust and sand storms. Several others hid in the tunnel system with her to escape Separatist forces. Under the city, they feared, it was only a matter of time before they were discovered.

But there was hope. Another Twi'lek girl named Numa brought the Republic's clone troopers and a Jedi Knight named Obi-Wan Kenobi into the tunnels and resuced them. Driven by Numa's courage, Katya and many other Twi'lek, were inspired to fight. Under heavy fire, she and her older brother Saan single-handedly destroyed a Separatist artillery gun that hastened their defeat on Ryloth.

Later, when the Empire replaced the Republic and declared the Jedi to be traitors, it came as quite a surprise to Katya. Due to General Kenobi's actions on Ryloth, Katya had come to view the Jedi with reverence and couldn't understand the Empire's new attitude towards them. As such, she began making preparations to leave Ryloth to seek out some answers as to why the status quo had shifted so suddenly.

That was not to be however, at least not how she first envisioned it. Because of the horrors wrought upon Ryloth due to the Clone Wars, Katya's father had made the difficult decision to sell her into slavery when she was only ten. He didn't particularly like the decision, but he felt it was the best chance that his only daughter had for survival in the new galaxy. Katya didn't particularly like the idea either, but she was well aware of her species acceptance of slavery as a way to preserve the species due to Ryloth's harsh environment. So she had grudgingly accepted her father's decision.

The person who purchased her turned out to be an old Republic admiral who had been forced into early retirement because of his rejection of the Empire's policies and doctrines. Though she was expected to work, the old admiral treated her with kindness and respect, even going so far as to teach her Galactic Basic and martial arts. As Katya matured, she took on the role of bodyguard to the admiral and traveled with him wherever he went.

All in all, Katya lived with the admiral for eleven years until a tragic trip through the Mid-Rim aboard the luxury star cruiser, Chandrilian Star. During the voyage, the liner was attacked and overrun by a band of ruthless pirates looking to make a name for themselves. Many of the passengers fought back including Katya and her admiral master. Tragically however, the admiral was killed and Katya was captured by the pirate gang. Even though the Space Rescue Corps mounted a successful assault to retake the liner, it came too late for Katya as she was spirited away by the gang and sold into slavery once more.

She found herself under the ownership of a monstrous Chagrian who did not treat her kindly at all. Regularly, either he or his entourage would ridicule, spit on, or otherwise humiliate her. A lot of times she was forced to dance topless for the Chagrian or his gang and occasionally Katya was even beaten by one or more of them and the few times she'd tried to defend herself, she was stunned to incapacitation and then beaten further. For three years, Katya did all she could to survive and even contemplated suicide once or twice.

She had just about reached her breaking point when her faith in the Jedi was renewed by a chance meeting with Dahlgen Luzard and his friends on Nar Shaddaa four years ago.

Katya smiled. "In all the times you have accompanied Master Dahlgen, Dannix… when has a given situation not been sucked down a black hole?"

"Never! That's exactly me point missy!"

The Weequay male stepped forward and handed another small electronic device to Dannix. "Here… take this. It should even up the odds a bit if things get too hairy."

Dannix took the device and noted that it was much smaller than the device he'd just planted. "What the hell does this do, Cronus?"

"Two things," Cronus Xod replied. "Attach this to that terminal over there. It controls the generator's output and safety protocols. This little wonder is designed to sit quietly until a master code is transmitted to it. When it receives that code, it will disable the terminal's security protocols and force an ever increasing feedback loop through the generator, resulting in an overload of the entire system and a very, very nice explosion."

Cronus's explanation surprised Dannix. "Explode? And just how big of an explosion are we talking about here Cronus?"

"Enough to bring the whole building down to the foundation." Cronus replied as if he'd been stating a mundane fact about nerfs versus rancors, causing the normally unflappable Dannix to swallow hard.

Katya chuckled. "All the more reason for all of us to be on our guard." She turned to the elderly Weequay behind her. "Come Cronus. It's time we got into position."

Katya led Cronus up several flights of stairs, arriving at a closed door on the level that Dahlgen had pointed out to her earlier in the day when they'd gone over the buildings blueprints one last time. Stretching out with her senses, she detected no life signs within several meters of the door. With little to no chance of being caught by roving guard patrols, Katya quietly opened the door and motioned for Cronus to follow her. Hurrying down the hall, she led them to an unmarked utility closet where she and Dahlgen had agreed would be the best vantage point for the purposes of this little adventure.

About twenty meters ahead was the building's main security office. Given what was transpiring here tonight, it would be no doubt occupied by Imperial stormtroopers instead of the usual security guards that always appeared to be suffering from terminal boredom. If all went well, Katya and Cronus would disappear from whence they came and no one would be the wiser. If not… well they hoped for the moment that "if not" did not turn into "very likely."

Cronus Xod on the other hand was a believer in the powers of technology and generally shied away from the more esoteric beliefs of Force users. A slicer and hacker by trade, Cronus had spent nearly all his life designing all sorts of ways to break into supposedly the most impenetrable of secure computer systems. When that got boring, he'd begun designing electronic gadgets and gizmos to remotely bypass security systems or create other forms of trouble such as the device he'd just given to Dannix.

Growing up on the Weequay home world of Sriluur, Cronus was well-accustomed to the "low-technology" that was the norm for people of his race. But Cronus had always been good at fixing whatever needed fixing and many members of his clan Xod would bring him their weapons and gadgets whenever they broke. Even when he had been young Cronus had astounded the others in his clan with his repair skills and abilities.

When Cronus was only ten, a passing Hutt crime lord became so impressed with his skills, he offered the young Weequay a job… one the few jobs on the Hutt's payroll that actually paid well. It was while employed by this Hutt that Cronus first discovered the computer terminal and began a life-long fascination and sometimes obsession of exploring what he called "the art of computer science." With this discovery, he began a new career as a slicer and hacker. As a teenager, he'd hacked into a supposedly unhackable computer system belonging to a highly prestigious bank in the Outer Rim and credited his family's accounts with a substantial sum of credits. How he had avoided serious trouble with the law or attracting unwanted attention to his clan was not something he talked about except only to say that it was a narrow escape.

As the years passed, Cronus's skills and talents became almost legendary until he was considered one of the best hackers in Hutt Space. Then during the Clone Wars, Cronus found a more practical use for his talents at the Battle of Toydaria. Long a supporter of the Galactic Republic, his Hutt boss was helping to oversee the construction of a Republic military installation on the planet when the Separatists attacked in an effort to halt construction and get Toydaria to annul its backing of the Republic. Cronus hacked into literally tens of dozens of Separatist mainframes and databases, causing a considerable amount of confusion among the Separatist forces. Unfortunately, it was not enough to prevent the devastation of Toydaria and the thousands of deaths that resulted. Shaken by this, Cronus left the employ of his Hutt boss and took to wandering the galaxy.

Around a decade ago, Dahlgen Luzard… then in his early 20s… had encountered Cronus on Adarlon in the Minos Cluster and hired him for a job. Upon its completion, Cronus had elected to remain with Dahlgen and Dannix, his only other companion at the time. Cronus had been with them ever since, making the three of them the founding members of Force Revanchist. It was a job he liked and the company wasn't that bad either… even if he did scowl at Marsala from time to time when the teen called him "grandpa."

At the age he was now however, Cronus was beginning to think about retirement. At sixty-seven standard years, he had just entered what was likely to be the twilight of his life. A deeply religious and a family man, Cronus had a wife, six children and fourteen grandchildren still living on Sriluur. He wasn't a stranger to them, but he only got to see them once every 8 to 10 weeks if he was lucky. And that was usually only for a few days at a time. His family had no idea what he did when he wasn't around, though a few of them suspected.

The elderly Weequay fingered the polished black stone pendant which hung around his neck… a symbol of his species' chief God, Quay… and said a short prayer to himself. "How many troops do you think are out there," Cronus asked.

Katya had already reached into the Force in an attempt to answer that very question. Trying to sense the individual heart beats of each one was difficult with several of them standing in very close proximity to each other. She opened her eyes. "Can't be absolutely certain, but I'd say between twelve and sixteen."

Dahlgen's voice came over the comlink. "Command section, standing by."

"All right there Chips, plug in."

"My name is Artoo Gee Tee Two," the astromech complained angrily.

"I know what your bloody name is," Dannix grumbled. "And I know that most everyone else in this team calls you Gee Tee as some term of endearment. Be that as it may, you're still a collection of circuits, wires and chips to me. Hence the name "Chips" as far as I'm concerned."

"You really are what they term 'a pain in the ass,' you know that?" Gee Tee grumbled.

Under his helmet, Dannix rolled his eyes towards the ceiling. "Just plug in and watch your language."

With an exasperated "droidspeak" beep that could only be best described as a droid sigh, Gee Tee extended his interface probe and connected to the computer terminal. Within seconds, a vast array of information that made no sense to Dannix whatsoever flashed at incredible speed over the screen. "Take a look," Gee Tee encouraged.

"Good. Disable all of the motion detectors in the ventilation system."

Dannix hated being exposed like this but unfortunately the closest computer terminal where Gee Tee could carry out the next part of his mission was located on the ground floor at the front reception desk. Although he'd temporarily disabled the security cameras and motion sensors in the area with a portable scrambler, it wouldn't be long before they came back on line. And even if they didn't, the Imperials were sure to send someone to check the disturbance, not to mention why the now unconscious guard on duty hadn't checked-in in the past ten minutes. He didn't want to be caught in the open when the next patrol happened on the scene.

"Come on Chips," he muttered. "What in the hell is takin' you so long?"

"What are you so worried about?" Gee Tee complained. "You got somewhere else to be? A hot date that you just can't miss?"

"Everybody's a damned comedian," Dannix complained.

R2-GT2 had begun his existence forty-three standard years ago on Industrial Automaton's assembly line. With a red and white painted shell, Gee Tee was like every other R2 droid that had been churned out in that he was designed to be primarily a starship diagnostic and repair technician. It was a job the little droid excelled at. As with other astromech droids, Gee Tee could communicate in "droidspeak" and had an impressive sensor package. It was complete with a full-spectrum transceiver along with electromagnetic, heat, motion, and life form indicators. A fully maneuverable video sensor deployed from his domed head, allowing it to inspect enclosed spaces or peer over obstacles. Gee Tee's outer shell concealed an array of tools beneath his durasteel exterior including two manipulator arms, an electric arc welder, circular saw, computer scomp link arm, a holographic projector/recorder, an internal cargo compartment and a general-use fire extinguisher.

But all his standard equipment had not been enough for Gee Tee. Gee Tee had never been subjected to memory wipe and as a result, had developed a very strong personality and sense of individualism. This individualism had led Gee Tee to take the rare step of tinkering with, and adding numerous modifications to himself. These modifications included a host of computer software programs including a lockout bypass, optimized computer and machine interfaces, a stabilization subroutine and a language base program that allowed him to translate over two and half million forms of communication. These programs were exceptionally rare on an off-the-shelf astromech. Other modifications included a laser pointer, a deployable underwater propeller, a pair of jet thrusters that extended down from his two main legs when needed and a highly refined self-defense and targeting package that allowed him to engage in combat when he was outfitted with weapons, which turned out to be often for him.

His most unusual modification though, came about not quite a decade earlier. Continually frustrated by most organic beings' inability to understand droidspeak, he took the ultra-rare step of outfitting himself with a vocabulator, allowing him to speak Basic and hundreds of other well-known languages. This was the odd shaped cone on top of his otherwise domed head.

Even with all these extra modifications, which some would've said were extreme, it still didn't seem like it was enough to Gee Tee. He was forever upgrading his computer programs to be state of the art and he'd had to replace his own central core three times in his life in order to handle all the changes without becoming bogged down in "excess electronic computer garbage" as he often called it. Currently he was debating whether he should refit his holographic projector/recorder with an advanced photographic package, replacing his current vocabulator with a better one and whether or not he should add low powered repulsor pads on his feet.

Dahlgen had bought the quirky droid in a second-hand shop somewhere in the Elrood sector about the same time he'd met Dannix a decade earlier. According to Gee Tee, he had been sold by his previous owner who had been fed up with trying to "correct and repair whatever personality inconsistencies were making it malfunction" when in reality, he had only been trying to better himself for his owner's use. "Better himself for his owner's use" had taken on a whole new meaning when he'd installed his vocabulator and started conversing with Dahlgen like anyone else would. He was beyond a valuable asset to the team though and Dahlgen made sure that Gee Tee knew that he, along with his eccentricities, were greatly appreciated by all of them.

Gee Tee unplugged himself from the terminal. "Done. All motion sensors in the ventilation system have been disabled."

"Excellent. Now let's get you set up for the data transfer."

Gee Tee followed the Mandalorian into a small security room that was usually empty during the day and used by whoever happened to be stationed at the receptionist's desk at night. Inside, the snoozing form of the night watchman was slumped in the chair, a neural dart sticking out the back of his neck. Everyone had guessed that to keep up an all normal appearance, the regular guards would be at their assigned posts switching authority to the contingent of stormtroopers only if a problem arose. So far, it seemed their suspicions were correct.

Gee Tee once more extended his sensor array and Dannix pulled a comlink from one of many pouches hanging from his belt. "Marsala, you receiving me?"

Several miles outside the capital city in a clearing frequented by the local wildlife, Marsala had parked the Ebon Hawk and was monitoring the control panel, ensuring that all systems were operating normally. Upon hearing Dannix's message, he keyed the comm. "I read you Uncle Dannix."

"How about Chips? You receiving his signal?"

"His signal's coming in fine… link's secure… ready when you are."

Dannix turned to Gee Tee. "Looks like we're all set. Now we wait."

"I just hope that we're done here before security finds anything amiss," Gee Tee said ominously.

Inside the Main Security Station

"Have those motion detectors on the ground floor come back up yet?"

"Not yet, but give them time. They'll be back. This sort of thing happens often. It's one of the many drawbacks to being located on a party world like this. The constant loud, raucous entertainment sometimes plays havoc with sensors and other electronic equipment."

The stormtrooper backed away slightly from the view screens, his shoulder insignia identifying him as an officer and the detachment commander that had accompanied one of the two Moffs to this secret meeting. Captain TK7650 began pacing the room. He was annoyed, annoyed at how lackadaisical the security staff of this building appeared to be, though he couldn't really blame them either. After all, this wasn't a military installation. It was a corporate office and a sub-sector sales office at that. He supposed that military secrets didn't flow through a place like this with any degree of regularity, if at all.

Still, with two sector Moffs having a meeting here tonight, he didn't appreciate the fact that the regular staff didn't appear to take it that seriously. TK7650 had gotten considerably paranoid since the Rebels destroyed the Death Star at the Battle of Yavin four months ago and his men were beginning to question his competence. Nevertheless, if the Rebel Alliance had gotten wind of this meeting, he was afraid they could try to capture or kill the Moffs. That wasn't about to happen on his watch.

TK7650 looked at the monitors again. Ever since the motion detectors on the ground floor had gone off-line he'd been waiting patiently for them to start transmitting again. If they'd been out for just a few seconds, even a few minutes, he could buy the regular watch commander's explanation of the planet-wide party overloading them temporarily. But they'd been out more than a quarter of an hour now. The desk guard wasn't responding to calls either. Again the regular watch commander had chalked it up to overloaded equipment due to the party. But TK7650 wasn't convinced. Something was wrong.

He turned to a stormtrooper corporal standing nearby. "You… check out the ground floor and find out why those motion detectors have not come back up. And find out what's happened to desk guard as well."

"Yes sir. Right away sir." The corporal responded with a snappy salute and was out the door before the regular watch commander could protest.

The watch commander regarded the stormtrooper Captain with a bland expression. "Is that really necessary Captain?"

"Yes it is."

"I told you that all these electrical malfunctions are a result of the party going on all across the planet," the watch commander defended his assessment of the situation. "Perhaps you've heard all the thunderous noise and music in the streets around us? It's nothing to get excited about even if we are seven floors off the street. The ground floor is just that… the ground floor. I'm tellin' you Captain, these kinds of malfunctions happen all the time when the Zeltrons throw a wild planet-wide party. Which if you know them like I do, happens to be quite often."

Captain TK7650 had had just about all of the watch commander's blasé attitude that he was going to take. "Listen, you may be right commander," he growled thrusting a finger in the watch commander's direction. "And if you are, I'll be the first to admit I was wrong! But don't you forget what's going on here tonight commander! And until that meeting breaks up, I am in charge here! So if I choose to be a little more zealous in my duties than you're used to, that's the way it will be!"

The watch commander was unmoved by the stormtrooper captain's outburst, but he wasn't about to overstep TK7650's authority either. That was a quick way to get oneself fired at the least. He relaxed in his chair and shrugged nonchalantly. "Suit yourself," he said.

The trip down to the roof of the Mobquet Swoop building was relatively uneventful though Dahlgen had nearly been blown into the street by a sudden gust of wind. He and Maris had landed safely without anyone on the ground noticing. Even if they had, they probably would've just assumed a couple of Zeltron locals were having another thrill. It was commonplace on Zeltros. Zeltrons participated in skydiving and other thrill seeking activities all the time and at all hours.

Stuffing her collapsed parachute into a bag and tossing it into a darkened corner of the roof, Maris couldn't help but comment on the lax security. "Only one guard in the guard house?" Maris sounded surprised. "They're slipping."

"Perhaps," Dahlgen admitted. "But I scanned that lone guard's brain. Whoever is out there is very alert and possesses a very strong mind." Dahlgen checked his time piece and spoke quietly into its built-in comlink. "Command section in position."

Four different responses came back. "Surprise section in position." "Diversion section in position." "Long range section in position." "Extraction section in postion."

"All right everyone this is it," Dahlgen announced. "Initiate phase two on my mark. Three… two… one… mark."

"Let's get this party started," one of them commented.

"Pipe down," Dahlgen warned. "Maintain audio silence from here on." He checked his time piece again and turned to Maris. "We've got thirty minutes before that meeting starts."

"Assuming they didn't start early and that it is actually happening," Maris mused.

To the casual observer, Force Revanchist appeared to be nothing more than a rag-tag band of misfits and unlikely comrades which suited them just fine so they did little to dissuade this notion. After all, not many people believed that one of the best insurgent teams employed against the Empire, squad sized or smaller, consisted of two Mandalorians, a teenaged boy, a sensual but feisty Zabrak woman, an old Weequay, a sexy Twi'lek, a couple of droids and a Jedi veteran of the Clone Wars for a leader.

With a 100% mission success rate, Force Revanchist had become something of a minor legend throughout the Rebel Alliance. The true identities of Force Revanchist were unknown to all except a handful of the top-most Alliance leaders. Most of the young rank and file types, especially the young ladies, often pictured Force Revanchist as being a rogue band of dashing smugglers, swashbucklers or pirates that traveled from place to place performing bits of daring heroism that were all too frequently lavishly overrated by the people who told the stories. A few of the old timers felt that Force Revanchist was perhaps a band of Jedi in hiding but still carrying out their most sacred edict, the defense of the Republic.

The truth was that Force Revanchist was far less glamorous than those who told tales of their exploits would have the average person believe.

Creeping along the roof, Dahlgen and Maris arrived at the point they were looking for… an unguarded shaft that led into and through ventilation system. Dahlgen had pinpointed it as their point of entry during their constant studying of the building's schematics of the building over the past few days. Dahlgen almost had to laugh. Even though the Imperials had picked the most unobvious world to have a secret meeting, they had also picked the most obvious location on that world to have it… in the heart of the only Empire controlled building on all of Zeltros.

Mobquet Swoops and Speeders was owned by the Tagge Company, which was in turn owned by the House of Tagge. The House of Tagge was a powerful family of nobles from the planet of Tepasi and had been involved in galactic affairs for more than 25,000 years. It was widely believed that the House of Tagge was one of the founders of the Galactic Republic, though no hard evidence had ever verified this claim.

Still there was no question as to just how powerful the family was. One of their lesser members, Cassio Tagge, was killed when the Death Star had exploded over Yavin IV not long ago and the family was demanding that the Empire do more to ferret out and exterminate the Rebel Alliance. Even so, the family was in the middle of other crises as well. The leader of the family, Baron Orman Tagge, had recently been stricken with a mysterious illness and his prospects for recovery were grim.

None of this mattered to either of them though as Maris looked around to make sure no roving patrols were going to surprise them. Satisfied they were alone on the roof, Maris lit her lightsaber, a new one she'd made some time ago with a gold blade. As it snap hissed to life, she slowly she began to cut a hole in the vent shaft grating. Despite the weapon's nature and her long familiarity with it, Maris never ceased to be amazed as to just how quiet a lightsaber could be.

As a youngling, and later a padawan, Maris had not only been instructed in lightsaber Forms I and III, she had also been given instruction in Form IV, Ataru and the Jar'Kai version of Form VI. Since reuniting with Dahlgen and joining his Force Revanchist a little over two years earlier though, he had expanded her training to include Form II, both variations of Form V and the classic version of Form VI, Niman. Recently he had even shown a couple of the more rudimentary aspects of the wild and unpredictable Form VII, Juyo as well. With knowledge of all those styles under her belt, Maris was a formidable opponent both offensively and defensively, far more capable than what she had been when she'd faced Starkiller and lost.

Some had questioned Dahlgen's decision to begin showing Maris the ways of Juyo as she had not been a member of the team as long as Katya had. Furthermore, Juyo was often considered to be bordering on the dark side, something that Maris had already been seduced by once and ultimately rejected. But Dahlgen had insisted that it was necessary. He had sensed that for some as yet unknown reason, Maris would need such advanced training in the future. Katya would need it too but not as quickly as Maris would. He didn't understand why at the time and he still didn't understand now. But the others had accepted his decision without question and they still accepted it now. Even so, Dahlgen had the feeling he was going to have to show both Maris and Katya some new techniques soon.

She finished her work, removed a large section of the vent shaft grating and set it aside. Dahlgen climbed into the now open shaft and helped her in after him. There was a dank smell in the shaft and Dahlgen guessed that at least one of the atmospheric scrubbers was malfunctioning. He wondered how long it had been since someone had actually been in the shaft to maintain the system. Typical Imperial doctrine. Use something until it breaks, then ignore the problem for a while and finally do something about it when someone high up the chain of command started getting pissed about it. He'd experienced this kind of mentality most of his life.

His first taste of battle had come at the Battle of Geonosis when he was only nine years old. Dahlgen was on record as the youngest padawan to participate in the battle nd one of the youngest padawans to fight in the Clone Wars in general. Many of the other seasoned masters of the order had protested against it. But his master, Master Ludmilya Zaitsev, was not dissuaded. She had selected him as a padawan only a few months before, having been impressed with his lightsaber skills for someone so young. He and Master Zaitsev were among the team of Republic troops that captured the Geonosian command spire during that battle that opened the Clone Wars. Unfortunately, they had captured it long after Count Dooku and the other Separatist leaders had fled the scene.

Nearly a year later came the Battle of Christophsis which was when Dahlgen had met Obi-Wan Kenobi, and Anakin Skywalker face to face for the first time. He had known Ahsoka Tano for some time however, as they had both belonged to the same Jedi Initiate Clan, Clawmouse. Though the three of them were the Jedi largely given the credit for winning the battle, they were not the only Jedi to participate in it. Dahlgen and Master Zaitsev had of course been there, but so had Maris and her master, with Maris having been advanced to padawan herself mere weeks earlier. The four of them had been responsible for clearing some of the "hotter" areas of fighting involving the protection of innocent civilians. It was an unenviable task, yet one they performed well as the Separatist armies advanced throughout the city.

Yet unknown to them, there was a clone trooper traitor in their midst who provided the Separatists with invaluable information as to the Republic's general attack strategy, battle plans and the Jedi's plans to infiltrate the Separatist lines. One of the traitor's more deplorable acts came when he notified the Separatist command that civilians were being evacuated from the world and gave them coordinates to several extraction points.

One of those extraction points was being tended to by Dahlgen and his master when the Separatists mounted an all-out assault on it. Several transports were able to flee the scene with their passengers just in time, but many others became trapped between advancing AATs and hordes of battle droids. Early on in the fighting, Master Zaitsev had been wounded and required evacuation. The transport that took her away also delivered eight year old Maris to the battlefield and, for what seemed like an eternity, she helped hold the landing zone out of near desperation.

In mere minutes, more than three dozen civilians were killed. Any transports that remained evacuated half loaded, leaving many at the mercy of the Separatist guns. One pilot however, lingered behind a little bit longer than the others. It was long enough for young Dahlgen to charge back into the Separatist barrage and carry six wounded individuals back for evacuation. The transport's gunners provided him with covering fire and Maris engaged all the battle droids she could, as he set about his task. He had hoped to load all the wounded aboard, but it was an unrealistic goal and it too, finally had to evacuate leaving those left behind to their fate.

That included both Dahlgen and Maris, who refused to board the departing transport. Armed only with their lightsabers, their knowledge of the Force and a single comlink, Dahlgen and Maris both held the landing zone with skill and judicious deployment of Republic artillery strikes. The relentless pressure on the Separatist forces kept them at bay long enough for some of the transports to eventually return and pick up the remaining people stranded on the landing zone. Dahlgen had been the last one to evacuate the area.

He hadn't seen Maris again after that until she'd found him on Nar Shaddaa a little over two years ago and he hadn't set foot on Christophsis since that day even though his actions had earned him the Cross of Glory, the highest award offered by the Republic at that time. True to his nature though, Dahlgen never returned to Coruscant to formally claim the award and in the end, he was glad he hadn't. He had never completely trusted politicians and anything that would've been presented to him by that vile slug Palpatine unnerved him.

Dahlgen had never fully trusted Palpatine's precious clone troopers either. Something about them just didn't add up in Dahlgen's mind. It was well known throughout the Jedi ranks that the bounty hunter Jango Fett had been the template for them. And Jango was exposed as a Separatist commander at the Battle of Geonosis, even though he hadn't survived the battle. It therefore, seemed odd to Dahlgen that a Separatist leader would be the template for the very army that would stand against the Separatists. For a long time Dahlgen wondered if he was the only Jedi who felt this way.

As the war ground on, Dahlgen began to question its direction and the seemingly unending string of conflicting targets, deployments and betrayals. He began to believe that they all were being led towards an unseen and horrible fate. Numerous times over the course of the war, he experienced visions of himself standing near a sinister hooded man. This man was standing above a great battlefield, though he was not close enough to see the man's face. In his vision, the man was manipulating two puppets. One puppet was of Count Dooku, the leader of the Separatists as far as the general public knew. The other puppet was of Chancellor Palpatine, leader of the Republic. In between the two puppets stood all the members of the Jedi Council, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Anakin Skywalker and his own master, Ludmilya Zaitsev. He'd had that dream several times during the war and, as a result, he began to question whether the Jedi Order was paying too much attention to the potential future and not enough attention to the very real present. After all, most Jedi of the age held the philosophy that concentrating on the future and fulfilling destiny was more important than paying attention to the here and now. He'd shared these thoughts and concerns with his master, but she had largely ignored them, stating that the most important thing was securing peace for future generations. Dahlgen couldn't help but wonder however, if securing that peace for the future at the expense of the present was a wise thing.

The last time Dahlgen had experienced that vision it had been slightly different in that he had finally been close enough to the hooded man controlling the puppets to pull his hood back. The man didn't even make a move to stop him. And when Dahlgen pulled the hood back, he was horrified to see the face underneath was none other than Chancellor Palpatine. But unlike the peaceful, benevolent leader he displayed to the people as leader of the Republic, this face was twisted in anger and rage with yellow eyes, and Dahlgen realized that Chancellor Palpatine and Darth Sidious, the Sith Lord that the Jedi had been hunting for more than decade, were one and the same. The image of Sidious began to laugh maniacally and he tossed his puppets aside, cast his hands downward and the image of Anakin Skywalker grew to gargantuan proportions and at the same time became encased in the fearsome black armor that was Darth Vader. With a casual sweep of his hand, Vader dispersed the images of all the other Jedi into nothing.

The very next day, while Dahlgen and his master were on Onderon, Order 66 was issued.

A year earlier, Onderon had been under the control of a Separatist puppet ruler known as King Sanjay Rash when a group of citizens banded together and rebelled against him and his droid occupational army. With the help of Ahsoka Tano, Dahlgen Luzard and Ludmilya Zaitsev, the Onderonian Rebels staged a successful coup of King Rash and reinstated the rightful Onderonian king, Ramsis Dendup, to his throne.

In the final days of the Clone Wars, the Separatists had become desperate for territory and allies. In a bid to "sway" systems to their cause, they had launched an all-out invasion of several worlds including Onderon. As it had once been under Separatist control, Onderon had a relatively small population compared to other worlds and was home to some of the fiercest predatory wildlife in the galaxy. The Separatist leadership felt that if they got their hands on some of those indigenous life forms they could find a way to genetically alter and reproduce them. Then, they were hoping these genetically reproduced creatures would be able to tear right through the Republic ranks.

It was a feeble and nonsensical idea, one born of the dire straits the Separatists were in during the closing days of the war. It was unquestionably destined to fail, but the Separatist leadership held tight to their idea that it somehow salvage at least part of their war effort. However, the Separatists hadn't counted on the resourcefulness of Dahlgen and his master. After all, Onderon was Dahlgen's home world and he knew the ins and outs of the planet better than anyone else in the Jedi Order.

Still, there had been extensive casualties. Not just the Republic troops, but the civilians as well. To this day, Dahlgen still felt partially responsible for the thousands of deaths in Onderon's capital of Iziz. Perhaps there wouldn't have been so many if the Republic hadn't responded. But then again, if they hadn't, well he'd seen the price of that all too often as well. It all came to a head during the battle to defend the Onderonian Royal Palace. Dahlgen and his master led the Republic's forces on a grueling hallway by hallway defense of the palace, fighting for literally every square foot they gained and seeing several rooms changes hands multiple times. They had just overrun the throne room for the third time when the clone troopers turned on them.

Although he was only twelve years old at the time, Dahlgen had been of the Guardian caste and was proficient in most of the classic lightsaber combat forms as well as a couple of unorthodox forms well. Most Guardians went on to become either Jedi Battle Masters or Jedi Aces. Battle masters were masters of the lightsaber and a variety of ranged weapons from a simple pocket blaster to a behemoth heavy repeater. Jedi Aces were most comfortable at the controls of a starfighter or some other such vessel. Yet there was another type of Jedi Guardian, the rarest of the caste. One whose beliefs fell somewhat outside the orthodox Jedi philosophy, and it was this belief that Dahlgen subscribed to.

The Jedi Martial Artist.

As a general rule, Jedi used meditation and great concentration while at rest to channel the Force and Jedi Marital Artists were no different in this respect. However, Jedi Martial Artists also practiced something more. Similar to those who followed the Matukai teachings, Jedi Martial Artists used their physical bodies as a channel for the Force as well. They sought to achieve balance between the Force and the body using exercise and unarmed combat training as a form of meditation. With this as their primary focus, they kept themselves clean, strong and free of the dark side through physical activity. This was the core philosophy that Dahlgen believed in, and it had saved his ass during the execution of Order 66.

A student of the martial arts of Echani, and to a lesser extent Teras Kasi, even before being accepted into the Jedi Order, Dahlgen continued his studies of the ancient arts even as his studies of the Force progressed. His master had encouraged these studies as she felt it would serve to make him a better Jedi and a better fighter. Over time, he had incorporated his knowledge of the art into his lightsaber fighting style. The end result was a style of fighting that combined immense strength with unpredictable trickery that very few contemporary Jedi would've believed possible.

More than a dozen clone troopers were in the throne room with Dahlgen and Master Zaitsev when the order was issued. And though Master Zaitsev had been wounded by them, Dahlgen's Force sensitivity and battle prowess had seen him through to victory over the traitorous clone troopers. He'd rushed to tend to his wounded master, but she'd known time was of the essence and that if he didn't escape soon, the next wave of clone troopers would overpower them both.

Dahlgen never knew what had ultimately happened to Master Zaitsev. The last thing he remembered about her was her ordering Princess Juliette Kira… King Ramsis Gendup's granddaughter, heir to Onderon's throne and a friend of Dahlgen's since childhood… to ensure that Dahlgen escaped at all costs. The princess had fulfilled that last order and Dahlgen had made extensive use of the tunnels and sewers under Iziz to escape the onslaught of the traitorous clones. Of course, a little ingenuity never hurt either and he'd managed to survive in an area that not even the bravest of the clones would've traveled… Onderon's wilderness.

The fact that he was a native of Onderon was something that Dahlgen had not shared with anyone, not anyone else on the team, not Maris, not even his own son. They rarely asked where he was from and when they did, he always had the same answer… "The corner of somewhere and eternity." After all, these were dangerous times for a Jedi and the less people knew about him, the better. He'd only been back to Onderon once since he'd managed to secure passage off of it. That had been a little over a decade ago for a few days to secretly attend King Ramsis Gendup's funeral and see his daughter, Princess Goneril, be coroneted Queen of Onderon. Now, at 31 years of age, Dahlgen certainly did not live the life that had once been expected of a Jedi. Nevertheless, he believed Master Zaitsev would be proud of him.

With Maris riding piggy-back, Dahlgen descended the shaft. As a result of his heritage, Dahlgen possessed a unique and rare trait that few Force sensitive people mastered. The ability to scale sheer walls and hang from ceilings using only his hands and feet. This power had many names but to most, it was simply known as Force Climb. It required great concentration to use, almost as much concentration as the power of Battle Meditation, so it was not a power that one typically used in the throes of intense combat.

"It's just off to your right Dahlgen," Maris's beautiful, reassuring voice said behind him.

Recalling the technical specification plans of the building that they all had spent hours studying, Dahlgen knew they were close to a maintenance access tube that ran right above the room where the meeting was supposedly taking place. Reaching out with his perceptions, Dahlgen sensed the uneven cracks in the wall where the door to the maintenance tube was located. Turning towards it, he raised his hand slightly, commanding the door to open from the opposite side. Maris reached over to grasp the edge and she hauled herself through the opening. Still devoting most of his thought process to his Force Climb ability, Dahlgen slowly followed her through, breaking his concentration only after she had shut the door behind him.

"Okay," Dahlgen said. "So far so good. Straight ahead to the first exchange junction, then left to the meeting room."

The access tube wasn't big enough for them to stand upright, but at least they didn't have to crawl. Dahlgen let out a slight groan of disgust. Twenty years ago, he was helping lead Republic armies to victory over the Separatists. Now he was skulking around darkened hiding places feeling like little more than a glorified thief. Count your blessings Dahlgen, he reminded himself. Far more Jedi didn't even get the chance to do what you're doing now or have the people around you that you do.

The wet, stale smell of the vent shaft caused Maris to wrinkle her nose in revulsion. "Ewww," she complained. "When do you suppose the last time someone disinfected this place was?"

"I'm afraid to know the answer," Dahlgen joked unhappily. "Just relax, breathe through your mouth and concentrate on something other than the stench. You'll be fine."

Maris nodded and took a deep breath through her mouth. Reaching into her own internal well of Force energy, she concentrated on her breathing and slowly began to regulate it. Beginning to breathe deeply through her mouth, she was able to push the unpleasant smell out of her awareness. With that accomplished, they moved forward quietly and she allowed her mind to focus on something that she felt very comfortable concentrating on.

Dahlgen.

Maris Brood had first met him when she was but a three year old Jedi Initiate in the Jedi Temple on Coruscant. Discovered as a toddler by an unknown Jedi Master, Maris had been accepted into the Jedi Order and assigned to Clawmouse Clan almost immediately. Dahlgen had been one of the first people she had ever met and they had struck up a friendship almost immediately. Even though she was talented, Maris was often scared and unsure of her new surroundings. As a result, she was always quick to frustration in those early years which earned her several retributions from other masters. But Dahlgen had always been encouraging and helpful to her, even when others weren't.

She had always appreciated his friendship and before long, the two of them were inseparable. Often they would help one another with their studies or play games with each other. And not for the first time, Maris fondly remembered their version of hide and seek where one would hide somewhere in the Temple and also concealed their presence with the Force or their version of tag which the called Chase the Smuggler. Maris chuckled to herself as she recalled one incident where Dahlgen hid himself in one of the ladies' changing rooms… and earned himself a considerable amount of berating from Master Shaak Ti and Padawan Barriss Offee as a result. She also recalled the day when she was five that she'd promised to always find Dahlgen and he'd promised to always catch her when she fell.

Wish he'd caught me before I fell to the dark side, but he didn't know I was still alive then, she thought. I didn't know he was still alive either.

Then Dahlgen had been selected as a padawan and shortly thereafter, the Clone Wars ignited. Dahlgen went off to fight the war despite his age and she was left at the Temple. That first year of the war had been one of the hardest of her life. Dahlgen had been someone she had come to rely on quite heavily and with him gone… well it just wasn't the same. Though she had been counseled by several masters that she needed to be more mindful of her feelings, she couldn't help but miss Dahlgen deeply. He'd been her best friend up to that point.

Then not quite six months later, as the Clone Wars raged across the galaxy, her greatest stroke of luck had happened. She had been selected as a padawan by a human male master and within another month, she had been sent to Christophsis. She had been overjoyed to see Dahlgen again, and to fight by his side had been one of the highlights of her life up to that point.

After the battle however, she and he master had been reassigned by the Council to a starship called the Gray Pilgrim as it plied the very edges of the Republic's borders, scanning for external threats. She never again participated in the Clone Wars, which proved fortunate as she was far removed from the Order when Order 66 was issued. With its issuance, she and her master felt the deaths of literally thousands of Jedi. All calls her master made to the Jedi Temple were met with only silence. Determined to uncover evidence of what had happened, her master set out on his own to find out the truth.

Her master had then disappeared, never to be seen again. But not before he warned Maris of the destruction of the Jedi Order by Darth Vader, Emperor Palpatine and the emergence of the Galactic Empire. For days, Maris grieved… grieved for the deaths of so many Jedi including her fallen master. But more than that, she grieved for her old friend Dahlgen as she believed he'd been killed with all the others.

Some very hard years were ahead of Maris after that. Lost, alone and bent on revenge, she returned to Imperial space, bent on hunting down and destroying both Darth Vader and Darth Sidious. Fortunately for her, she was intercepted in deep space by surviving Jedi Master Shaak Ti, who ironically had been Dahlgen's and her clan master as initiates, and persuaded her to go into hiding on the planet of Felucia.

Maris didn't like thinking about those intervening years, yet they were a part of her and she knew she had no choice. The anger and resentment she felt towards the persecution of the Jedi, Shaak Ti's death three years ago at the hands of Vader's apprentice, her own fall into anger, fear, despair and loneliness as a result, her defeat at the hands of Vader's redeemed apprentice a year later… she didn't want to remember any of it. Yet she knew she'd never forget it. The memories of what she'd done would be with her forever.

And yet she smiled because it was in the midst of all her grief when Revan had visited her and tasked her with the mission that resulted in her current standing as a member of Force Revanchist. More importantly though, it had resulted in her reuniting with her best friend after seventeen years. She'd never be able to thank Revan enough for giving her new direction and purpose in life.

Maris laughed to herself as she recalled that it seemed she couldn't get the Gray Pilgrim space worthy fast enough. Truth be told, it took her two weeks to get it ready, but once she did she made a bee-line for Nar Shaddaa. And to this day it amazed her that on a world as densely populated as Nar Shaddaa she'd been able to find him in only a few hours. She'd been so happy to see him, she'd thrown her arms tightly around him, cried in joy and refused to let go for a quite a while. As if she was afraid that if she did, he was going to disappear into nothing. But he didn't and she'd thought it over for all of two seconds before accepting his offer to join his Force Revanchist.

He'd taken over training her in the Jedi arts… which were a little unorthodox to say the least. For several weeks, he'd had Maris do several types of menial chores around his ship. And after she'd confronted Dahlgen about the usefulness of the chores she was doing, he revealed to her that he had actually been training her muscles to automatically respond to certain situations in a lightsaber duel. In far less time than all her prior years of training, he'd improved her lightsaber defensive capabilities more than she ever thought possible… all from doing seemingly ridiculous and unnecessary chores. Maris smiled as she thought about how those cadences he'd taught her back then like "stir the pot" and "wash the glass". Even now, they were still a part of her everyday training regimen.

The other members of the team were leery about having Maris in their ranks at first, but in the time that had followed, she had proven herself time and again to be a loyal team member, a formidable fighter and a fine pilot too. Now they accepted her without question. Those who knew her and Dahlgen well could clearly see the romantic and sexual tension between them, but both of them appeared to be uncertain of whether to act on it or not. As if they were afraid that by acting on it would somehow ruin their friendship. Whether or not that trend continued remained to be seen.

For her part, Maris was grateful that she had the group of friends around her that she did now, even if she considered some of them to be morally ambiguous. But in the end, after a year of enslavement by the dark side, who the hell was she to judge? She knew they trusted her enough to cover their backs and she trusted them enough to cover her back. It was a well-deserved trust that had been earned and acted upon many times over the past couple years. Like Dahlgen had told her when she had first signed on as a member of Force Revanchist, they were family. And even though that was something she hadn't truly had even when they were Jedi Initiates, the members of Force Revanchist had quickly become her family and she treated them all as such.

Of course Maris's fondness for Dahlgen had done nothing but grow ever since she'd signed on with Force Revanchist. In fact, she was perhaps more fond of him now than she had been when they were children. The two of them were frequently within eye or ear shot of one another and there was something about him that she found quite disarming. She'd never really noticed it when they were children. Why her feelings for him had changede so much, she wasn't entirely sure. Certainly it had a lot to do with how he treated her and their years of friendship, but was that all? Maybe it had something to do with his command of the Force, maybe it was his natural leadership tendencies, maybe it was the way he treated his son, or maybe it was the way he sometimes made an ass out of himself whenever he got roaring drunk. Maybe it was all of the above. She had no idea but there was no doubt that she'd never met a man quite like him in her life and she couldn't help but get butterflies in her stomach and feel her pulse quicken every time he was close to her.

After a short but cramped walk, Dahlgen and Maris stopped above a ceiling light that cast its glow down into an unseen room. Nearby, a branch of the ventilation system angled downward to vent fresh air into the room below. Using a pocket fusion cutter… the very same one Maris had used to free her ship more than two years earlier… Dahlgen made a small hole in the vent shaft near the floor and peered inside. Just below the hole was the vent cover leading into what Dahlgen could clearly tell was a large meeting room below. Several Imperial officers were already seated at the large conference table and Dahlgen could also just make out the outline of a stormtrooper standing guard near the doorway.

He pulled back from the hole he'd made. "Sabacc," he whispered to Maris. "Looks like they're about to get started." He reached into his coat and spoke into a short range comlink. "Command section, standing by."

Three floors below in the maintenance closet, Katya answered the call. "Diversion section, standing by."

Even further below, Dannix responded. "Surprise section, standing by."

Outside in the park, under the cover of the trees, Dijas reported, "Long range section, standing by."

Far away in the Silver Horizon, Marsala keyed the ship's comm. "Extraction section, standing by. All systems go."

Satisfied with the report, Dahlgen keyed his comlink again. "Initiating phase three."

"Now we see if that contraption that Cronus gave us is worth anything," Maris mused.

Dahlgen nodded in agreement as he reached into his coat again.

Mobquet Swoop Building – Main Conference Room

Moff Gerd Hazloc of the Kwymar sector looked over the rim of his plaspecs at his counterpart from the Mandalore sector. Hazloc hated the man; regarded him as nothing more than a whining crybaby who was endlessly asking for more candy from his mother. In an earlier, private discussion with his adjutant, Hazloc had compared the man to an irritating, squealing pig. And he put way too much faith in his superiors, Imperial doctrine and technology. The comment he'd just made further confirmed this belief in Hazloc's mind.

Seated directly across the table from Hazloc, Moff Stefan Ulcom of the Mandalore sector thought his counterpart to be the perfect example of a statue, stone-faced and lifeless. No doubt the man survived on a diet of organic bread, ice water and perhaps the occasional granola bar for flavor and to keep the internal plumbing straight. His face was long and whenever he talked, he always seemed to be looking down his nose at whoever he was addressing. Add to that his penchant for elaborate drill, ceremony and snappy inspections, Ulcom felt that Hazloc redefined the term "pompous ass."

Seated at the conference table, the two Imperial sector leaders were so dissimilar it was almost comical. Ulcom's excessive corpulence contrasted greatly to Hazloc's gaunt frame. Hazloc was tall and had silver hair, slightly balding. Ulcom was short with a massive amount of dark hair, though it was cut short to regulation standards. It was about the only thing that Hazloc and Ulcom could agree on.

They had attained their current positions in life through vastly different means. Hazloc had come up through the military during the Clone Wars. He had started out as a first officer aboard one of the Republic's Venator-class Star Destroyers. Later, after the Empire replaced the Republic, he had been promoted to captain and given command of a Victory-class Star Destroyer… a command he retained for the next decade. Hazloc was then reassigned as the Chief of Naval Operations, Japrael Sector and ascended to the position of Moff a few years later when the Kwymar sector Moff at that time died of illness.

Though Hazloc's military career was not without some distinction, he was more of a legend in his own head, frequently embellishing tales of his exploits, especially for the younger generations. Still, he was a military man through and through, preferring to review his troops and discuss tactics than the political machinations of the Imperial Court.

Ulcom, by contrast, was a man that had attained his position purely through familial connections. Born a distant relation into the same family that produced Colonel Wullf Yularen, Stefan Ulcom had virtually no military experience and precious little training. It therefore came as considerable surprise to most of his contemporaries when it was announced four years ago that he was being made Moff of the Mandalore Sector.

Moff Ulcom held no illusions about how he had obtained his title but he was unhappy that he had been stuck in the Mandalore Sector on the northeast edge of the Outer Rim. He felt that someone of his family's standing should be overseeing a sector in the Core Region or least the Colonies. Little did he know that his family had been forced to call in numerous favors just to get the posting that he did have. Ulcom's military ineptitude and scandalous behavior when it came to women was well-known in the Core and he was privately considered an embarrassment by the Imperial Court and his family.

Adjusting his head so that he was now staring down his nose, Hazloc broke the awkward silence. "I'm sorry, what was that?"

Ulcom smiled cordially, barely hiding his contempt. "What I meant was in the not too distant future Rebel Alliance raids on our shipping will be nothing but a bad memory." A faint, yet all too recognizable whistling sound accompanied his words.

"Yes that's what I thought you meant Stefan," Hazloc's condescending voice spat out. "And what makes you so sure of that?"

The tone of Hazloc's voice was not lost on Ulcom. "Don't tell me you haven't seen the reports Gerd? With the development of the new Lancer-class frigate, our forces will finally have a light anti-starfighter platform capable of stopping Rebel fighters before they even get close to our heavy freighters."

You have no concept of tactics whatsoever you moron, Hazloc thought. "May I remind you Stefan that only four months ago, the Rebellion as a whole was supposed to be nothing but a bad memory. But then something happened that has driven the fear of annihilation throughout the Empire right up to the Emperor's Advisory Council. Let me see now, what was it? Ah yes. It was that little incident over Yavin when a lone Rebel fighter launched two torpedoes down an unshielded exhaust port, causing the destruction of the most powerful weapon in the galaxy."

"Mock me if you wish Gerd, but I for one am convinced that the Lancer frigate is the key to ultimate victory over the Rebel Alliance." Ulcom's temper was beginning to ignite. "And as for the whole Yavin fiasco… a lucky shot. If I had been in command of that battle station, the Rebels never would've gotten close to that exhaust port!"

That's true because if you'd been in charge of that battle station, it would've fallen apart and exploded due to your own mismanagement long before it was ever under any kind of threat, Hazloc thought and laughed to himself. "The key to ultimate victory?" He waved his hand dismissively. "Bah! I've read the reports just like you have and I am far from convinced. If the analysis I worked up is anywhere close to accurate then a whole battle group's worth of Lancers can be torn to shreds by a mere two Rebel gunships."

Ulcom dismissed the notion with a loud snort. "Then it is obvious that your analysis is incorrect Gerd. I cannot possibly believe that even ten Rebel gunships would be any kind of a threat against a Lancer." The trouble with you military types is that you're all the same… all pomp and no brains.

Hazloc nodded. "Just like a star fighter is not supposed to be any significant threat against the Death Star?" Ha! Counter that you Huttspawn!

With the argument between the two Moffs escalating, their respective adjutants could only sit on the side and watch in disgust. Moff Ulcom's adjutant, a large older man with copper hair and broad shoulders, faced his opposite colleague. "Do you really think they'll get anything sorted out tonight?"

Moff Hazloc's adjutant was a pretty brunette in her late twenties with an infectious smile. She shook her head in response to her counterpart's comment. "Not really. If anything, they'll agree to come back tomorrow night and yell at each other some more."

Ulcom's adjutant chuckled and nodded thoughtfully. "Yes, I suppose your right." He took a swig of coffee before offering his hand. "We've never been properly introduced. Major Verrill Derwit, glorified lackey to Moff Ulcom."

Hazloc's adjutant accepted the handshake. "Lieutenant Sheila Alston. I don't think I need to tell you what my job description is."

"Does the term 'glorified lackey' factor into the job description somewhere?" Derwit said with a smile.

"You have nooooo idea," Sheila responded with a casual roll of her eyes.

Both of them tried to stifle their laughter and Derwit brought a finger to his lips. "Shhhh… before they stop yelling at each other and start yelling at us."

Exasperated with Moff Ulcom's latest comment, Moff Hazloc banged his fist on the table causing several people to be startled by his display of temper. Fortunately his anger had not yet been directed to either of the two adjutants. "You control a backwater sector in the Outer Rim Stefan! Just like me! There is no way that the Emperor or his entourage would ever agree to send either of us a task force of Lancers the size of which you are proposing! In the Core, yes! In the Colonies, maybe! Way out here in the middle of galactic nowhere… forget it!"

Ulcom resented the implication that the Imperial Court would not do as he wished it to. "You Gerd, forget about my connections! My family…"

"Means nothing in the Outer Rim!" The veins in Hazloc's neck were threatening to burst. "Gods man, mass production hasn't even begun on the Lancers yet! And when it does begin, every sector inside the Inner Rim will get first crack at them! Do you honestly think that just because you're a member of some noble family… a low-ranking member may I point out… that your name entitles you to preferential treatment? In the Core perhaps, but not out here! Out here, you make do with what you have! You prioritize, you adapt and you overcome! If you had any military training at all, you'd know how to do that! And if Coruscant decides to throw you a bone every now and then, you do what we all do… act like a good little dog bowing before its master."

Ulcom's eyes were on fire as he started to rise out of his chair. "Why you…"

Hazloc knew he could take Ulcom easily if he wanted a brawl, but that would only be counter-productive to the meeting and could very well destroy other things that they were both working on. "Enough about the damned Lancers!" Hazloc roared with an impatient gesture. "This constant arguing is getting us nowhere and it has absolutely nothing to do with why either of us are here! We have more important matters to discuss."

For a moment it looked as if Ulcom was going to ignore Hazloc's statement and initiate a brawl anyway. As the seconds went by however, he relaxed a bit and returned heavily to his seat. "I assume you are talking about Project Epsilon?" The irritating whistling noise in his voice had gotten more pronounced as a result of his anger.

Do you always wheeze when you talk? Hazloc couldn't help but wonder how the man was able to pass his yearly physical. But then, being a member of a prominent family did afford some luxuries even way out in the middle of "galactic nowhere" and Hazloc supposed that it didn't take much to have computer-whipped medical documents produced. "What else would I be talking about Stefan," Hazloc said simmering down.

"Indeed," Ulcom agreed. "So?"

"Initial tests are promising but then last time this device was used, it required exorbitant amounts of power to generate the desired result. To be precise, it required the power of four heavy cruisers. But you of course, know this already from your own reports and study of the data logs that your own survey teams recovered."

"I've read the logs," Ulcom confirmed. "I am aware of the power requirements."

"In order for the project to be successful we must find a way to generate the required power without having to resort to something so physically massive to generate it," Hazloc theorized. "This would almost definitely please His Majesty and the Imperial Advisory Council."

"I agree. So how do we go about that?"

Hazloc rested his elbows on the table and folded his hands. "Well now Stefan, therein lies our problem. My science staff has been working to find a solution to this very problem for the past six months without success. Factor in the disastrous test two weeks ago that resulted in the loss of my chief engineer along with ninety-eight percent of his staff and progress could come to a standstill in a rather short amount of time."

So that's why you called this meeting. You need my resources. "So why are you telling me this Gerd," Ulcom asked already knowing what Hazloc's answer would be.

Hazloc wasn't about to get on his knees and beg for resources from a man that he absolutely despised. "Well you and I are supposed to be working on this project together Stefan. I think that we are far enough along in development that a more judicious… melding of resources could improve our chances of success and deliver the weapon that His Majesty wants ahead of schedule."

Clever, Ulcom thought. Ask for what you want by not asking for it and suggesting more cooperation between us. You'll become a politician yet. Although Ulcom hated giving in, he did have to grudgingly concede that Hazloc had a point. And neither of them relished the idea of going before the Emperor and explaining why Project Epsilon was either behind schedule or an outright failure. If that were to happen, Ulcom doubted either of them would be returning to their current positions in the Imperial machine.

Ulcom offered Hazloc a smile that even the two adjutants could tell was strained and false. "I agree with you Gerd. I think we should be pooling our resources more now. Sharing thoughts, ideas and information more freely is a wonderful suggestion. I can certainly help, but only insofar as having members of my team offer suggestions and solutions to problems you and your team may be experiencing; and vice-versa of course."

"Of course," Hazloc strained to say.

"Yet as a gesture of good faith my friend, I shall send an engineering team to you right away." Ewww, I can't believe I just called him 'friend.' Ulcom made a grand gesture with his hands and puffed his chest a bit. "I know of a particular individual who would be perfect in the role of chief engineer and his staff is quite competent as well."

I'll bet you do. "Very well, I would be happy to receive him and any other technical staff he chooses to accompany him."

"I'll send his dossier to you as soon as I return to the Mandalore Sector," Ulcom proposed. "I think you'll find his credentials more than adequate to the task at hand."

Hazloc nodded. "Fine. Once I review it, I'll send him all available files and test data that we have so that he may analyze it before arriving.

"Then it's settled Gerd," Ulcom stood slightly and offer his hand across the table. "I'm glad we're going to be working closer together my friend to complete Project Epsilon in a timely fashion."

Hazloc swallowed hard before reluctantly accepting Ulcom's gesture of friendship, especially since he knew it was anything but sincere.

Seated in their hiding place above the meeting room, Dahlgen and Maris monitored the short, cylindrical object that was dutifully recording every second of the conversation going on below. A long thin, tube extended down and away from the device so that it was just poking out of the vent screen that Dahlgen had surveyed earlier. This tube concealed the actual holographic recorder and the data the cylindrical device collected was being transmitted via a short range frequency to Gee Tee several floors below. Gee Tee in turn was acting as a relay station, re-transmitting a much stronger signal over a greater distance to the freighter where Marsala monitored the incoming signals.

Dahlgen rubbed the bridge of his nose in deep thought as he listened to Moffs argue and yell at each other. He didn't have to strain himself to hear. They were yelling so loudly, Dahlgen was reasonably sure that Dannix some floors below could hear them without problem. It's utterly amazing that these two manage to get anything done considering how much they hate each other.

Across from him in the narrow passage, Maris shifted slightly and folded her arms over her ample chest. Dahlgen glanced over at her and got lost for a moment appreciating how physically appealing the woman was to him… the flawlessness of her skin, the generous size of her breasts, the sensual look of her exposed upper chest, back and midriff. It was not the first time he'd done so and it had been quite a long time since he'd had this strong of an attraction to a woman. Despite that, he had some reservations about it and wondered whether pursuing anything beyond what they already had was a wise idea. Nevertheless, he was just grateful to have her back in his life and was happy that she had accepted his invitation to be a part of Force Revanchist when he'd offered it to her. He'd known she would but even so, out of respect to Maris, he'd offered to let her join, not inform her she was joining. Not once had he regretted his decision. She'd proven to be a loyal member of the team a hundred times over. Despite their long separation and Maris's brief corruption by the dark side, Dahlgen still viewed her to be one of his closest friends and confidants. In the time she'd been with Force Revanchist, Maris had been a wonderful source of healing for the Clone Wars veteran.

Order 66 and its immediate aftermath had been traumatic enough for Dahlgen. But a little more than fourteen years ago, Dahlgen had suffered a second particularly traumatic event in his life, one he didn't like to talk about even to this day. No one, not even Maris, knew all the circumstances surrounding it and Dahlgen wanted to keep it that way as long as he could. He'd suffered through the pain and anguish of it for many years before reuniting with Maris. She didn't know it, but she'd helped him focus on the good that had come as a result of it and shown him the path to healing. For that, Dahlgen was forever grateful to her.

He also knew that he'd helped heal Maris a great deal in the wake of her corruption by, and ultimate rejection of, the dark side. In general, Maris didn't like discussing it, but that wasn't true where Dahlgen was concerned. She'd always been up front and honest with him about what had happened to her. And despite her initial fear that Dahlgen would reject her or think less of her, he hadn't. He'd never been anything but sympathetic and compassionate towards her. He'd always been her best friend and the strength she drew from him had done much to heal her soul and heart.

Feeling his eyes upon her, Maris turned to meet his gaze. "Are you all right Dahlgen?"

Dahlge suddenly realized he'd been staring at her rather intently for a while now and cleared the cobwebs from his mind with a quick shake of his head. "Forgive me Maris, I didn't mean stare. I was just… lost in thought."

Maris eyed him coyly. "And just what were you thinking about?"

"Uhhhhhh…."

Dahlgen was saved from the embarrassing situation when the two Moffs began discussing Project Epsilon. Immediately alerted, he listened closely to their discussion about the power requirements necessary for success and was particularly interested in the fact that nearly an entire engineering team had been wiped out in the most recent test. It meant that the Imperials were having problems harnessing that kind of power and keeping control of it once they had. Dahlgen had a sinking feeling that only a super weapon of some kind would require that much power. He swore under his breath. This simple information retrieval mission had just gone off in a whole other dimension that none of them could've predicted.

Something that one of the Moffs said bothered Dahlgen. Something about the last time the device was used. That meant that whatever they were working on, if it was indeed a super weapon, was a redesign of a previously existing weapon. But which one? There were so many that had been cataloged over the millennia it was next to impossible to keep track of them all. And it was also entirely possible that the predecessor of whatever they were redesigning now was decommissioned or destroyed somehow before it had ever been logged.

Whatever the truth was, Dahlgen was getting a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach. A new super weapon in the hands of the Empire was bad enough. But a new super weapon right on the heels of the Battle of Yavin? That battle alone had cost the Alliance a tremendous amount of resources and Imperial might was cracking down in nearly every sector across the galaxy trying to ferret out Rebel insurgent groups wherever they could be found. Though a plethora of worlds had flocked to the Rebel banner in the wake of the destruction of the Death Star, the Alliance was still far from the cohesive fighting force needed to truly challenge the might of the Empire.

Dahlgen looked back at Maris and from the look on her face he knew she was having the same thoughts. "Why do I suddenly have the feeling that we're all going to be very closely associated with this Project Epsilon in the near future?" he asked her.

"I don't know. Could it be the fact that we're Force sensitive and have a reasonable aptitude for foresight?" Maris's tone was humorous, but deep down she was worried too.

"I'm serious Maris."

"I know Dahlgen and I'm sorry. I'm just as concerned as you are."

Dahlgen turned to her, then smiled and gave his friend a pat on the knee. "Ahhh don't worry about it. If you can't makes jokes every now and then no matter the circumstances, then you're nothing more than a grouchy old Wookiee who's taken one too many trips into the Shadowlands."

"Don't let Hooroo hear you say that."

"Are you kidding? Crazy I may be, but stupid I am not. Besides, I'd like to think that Hooroo would know I was speaking metaphorically."

"Would you be willing to bet Hooroo's anger on that?"

Dahlgen considered Maris's words for a moment before shaking his head enthusiastically. "Not really."

"I didn't think so."

Huuruundar… known as Hooroo to his friends… was an old, grizzled Wookiee who owned and operated a tavern / nightclub known as the Jewel of Kashyyyk on Nar Shaddaa. A relatively popular place, it happened to be the very same place where Dahlgen and Maris had first met five years earlier. Though Hooroo was not officially a part of the group, he knew them all well and had aided them numerous times in the past by providing them with foodstuffs, equipment and supplies and occasionally extra muscle in the form of his two sons, Forndak and Chenlamabec. They usually did this free of charge, but every now and then one or more of them would end up slinging drinks for Huuruundar at the club for a night or two as payback.

Before either of them could say any more, klaxon sirens began wailing and numerous red strobe lights began flashing in all directions. All at once, the meeting room below them was a flurry of activity as the adjutant officers began ushering the Moffs out. The stormtroopers followed, taking point and flanking guard positions around the top officers.

A smirk worked its way onto Dahlgen's face as he plucked his saberstaff from his belt. "Looks as if the poodoo has hit the proverbial exhaust vent… again."