Chapter One—The Gray Morning

Another morning, and the canteen's a wreck. The last night of drunken patrons, broken chairs, glasses and some interesting substances on the floor. Nazaf, hands on hip with a rag hanging off his fingers surveys his realm. After a huge sigh, he begins tussling his leftover patrons, announcing its time to get out. Versed in three different languages including basic, he has picked up enough of the other languages to kick out the drunks.

As the last drunk lumbers out of the door, he closes it. Turns around and another deep sigh. Time to clean up he said aloud. He walks over to the computer, key in a code and began tallying up last night's take. A flash of movement catches his eyes as a distinct sound of a blaster setting is adjusted. It seems he missed someone when closing the door.

A gruff voice vibrates behind him. "Mor'nin, I see you have a nice collection of credits there." Nazaf not turning around said "Good morning, for someone who is holding a blaster at my back seems polite enough to start with pleasant conversation." A gruff laugh follows, obviously with a smirk, "Well there is no need to be rude, because you are going to give me what I want."

Nazaf responds "That so?" a chuckle was heard "Well I have the blaster, you have the credits, I'm in the business of selling life for credits". Nazaf raises his head as a flash of movement catches his eyes. A faint smirk dashes across his face. "So, you are willing to sell me my life? It seems it should be the other way around" he said. "Huh, why do you say that old man" said the gruff voice. "Well my good man you seem to believe you have an advantage, when you are not aware of your actual situation".

The gruff voice blurted "Enough talking old man" as a data pad drops on the counter to the left of Nazaf, "Transfer the credits... all of it". Again, Nazaf smiles with his back to his assailant "Okay I will give you a choice, leave now on your own or this will be the last place you will ever see.". A crude laugh from the gruff voice bellows out. "You seriously overestimate you chances old man".

Nazaf, body tenses as a surge of energy seems to begin to radiate inwards, he reaches for the data pad. "You are making a grave mistake my friend" The gruff man notices a slight change in in victim, as he sees the reflection of Nazaf's eyes on the data pad. It seems like his eyes have changed colors, reflecting a yellow hew that seems to twinkle, or was it more like spark.

The robber blinks and his eyes are drawn to the reflection. His mind wonders, thinking am I really seeing this or is it the dawn colors that is causing this visual change. His eyes are completely fixed to Nazaf's reflective eyes now, as a whisper in his head begins whispering. "You are safe, you've won this, and now you are gonna to get paid". A smile lit up the robber's face. His conjured images of the wonders the credits would bring. Food, drinks, and a Twi'lek dancer for entertainment, oh and the Spice, blessed Spice.

Completely lost in his day dream, his purpose forgotten, the blaster lowers. Dazed, he vaguely noticed Nazaf spun on his heals with supernatural speed, as fingers gripped the sides of his head, hovering thumbs which seems to crackle with lightning, draws closer to his eyes.

The robber snaps out of his daze as hot searing pain pierces his thigh followed by the sound of a blaster rifle. He screams out in pain and drops his blaster, reaching around with both hands towards the source of pain. Falling, with the sensation of being violently tugged away from Nazaf's grip. Writhing and grasping his leg he rolls on his back rocking back and forth howling.

Nazaf peers up and notices his wife Yma holding a freshly fired blaster pointing down, in one hand, and an out stretched hand pointing towards the robber. Yma peering at her husband Nazaf, his face reflects a demeanor of anger, violence, and danger. His twisted glare peers directly at his wife. She returns his gaze with intent and with warning. They locked eye as the would-be robber between them continues screaming, and writhing on the floor. A loud knocking at the canteen's door, breaks the silent conversation between the husband and wife.

Nazaf turns and walks to the door, depressing the security keys, opening the door. It slides open with a hiss, making certain to conceal his face from sight. The local security force rushes in. "Is everything okay sir?" Nazaf with his back turned and a scowl on his face peering at Yma, says nothing, and points in the direction of the refuse on the floor with a fresh hole in his leg. Holding his cleaning rag in his hand, he swings it over his shoulder and walks over to where the man laid, stepping over him and oriented towards his wife.

An aged voice in the corner bellows out "Do you really want to lose a fight this early in the morning son?" Nazaf looks in the direction of the voice, lowers his head "No sir, I'm not that demented". An old man peering out with a glass in hand, only dipping a portion of his face into the light "I wouldn't mess with her, she's already shot a man this morning, I wouldn't push my luck! But the choice is yours."

The security force assessing the confusion and speaking over the howl of the wounded robber, asked if everything is well. Nazaf still with his back turned said we are fine, now that you fine gentlemen have your man in custody. The security force scooped up the robber and carried him out. The senior security force officer Ogosh, steps in as his officers' drug the robber outside. He looks up at Yma, and tips his cap.

Ogosh Airstrider, a prior lieutenant in the service of the Republic Naval Intelligence office, at the start of his career, then later the Imperial Navy. He had at one time been an up and rising star in the world of the Imperial Navy during the war. His rise in rank was solely due to his competence, rather his family ties. He was not known for just being a quintessential "Intelligence Officer" or desk jockey. He has volunteered to participate in the ground activities, that directly linked to the information he uncovered. Personally, quelling or stopping criminals who threaten the empire.