The Discovery
Class: Gage-Class Imperial Personnel Transport.
Registration: Imperial Reclamation Service.
Classification: Non-Military. Armaments: None.
Crew: 40. Current Passengers: 22.
Origin: Yavin System. Destination: Korriban.
Current Location: Yavin System.

The small vessel briefly shook before the inertial dampeners compensated for the unexpected impact to the Discovery's shields. The brief shake was enough to send the bridge's incoming arrival into knocking one of the horns of his helm against the open doorway. Despite having clearly been fired upon, the bridge crew still turned their gaze away from and stepped aside for him in deference, busying themselves in maintaining the shields. Even in this case, it would be considered unwise to possibly anger a Sith.

"M...my Lord Khadae..." the Captain stuttered to him as he approached, "...we are so sorry that we've gotten delayed. We...it...appears that we might have angered a Republic vessel."
"In Imperial space?" Lord Khadae betrayed no feelings with his voice, and his face was covered by a mask, none could tell what he was thinking. "Is that why we have yet to enter hyperspace?"
"It just appeared from hyperspace, then started firing, before we had a chance to make our jump." The Captain's concern was clear, "My Lord, most of the crew are archaeologists, our vessel is unarmed, why are we being attacked?" Lord Khadae drifted over to the window at the front of the bridge, the hem of his purple and silver robes moving so slightly that it would seem to onlookers that he was floating. The Captain and crew were watching him silently, only resuming their assigned activity when another shot from the Republic vessel's turbolasers struck their shields.

Beneath his mask, Lord Khadae had closed his yellow-hued eyes. Sensing, searching, for anything that his eyes possibly hadn't seen. Republic vessel in Imperial space? Certainly. Firing on them? Definitely. But why? There must be something else, they must be covering for something...

There! Port side. The strength of the Force power that Lord Khadae had sensed struck him like a lightning bolt. He had only once before sensed anything like it, from a powerful Jedi that his Master had not dared let him approach. So, perhaps the assault was a distraction - the crew so concerned with maintaining their defences in the face of the bombardment that they weren't paying attention to a potentially smaller vessel trying to sneak by. A smaller vessel with a painfully powerful Jedi on board.
To Lord Khadae, the prospect was exhilarating!

...or was until he could hear his Master's voice forcefully in his mind,
"No, Khadae! Find out what the Jedi wants."
"Spoilsport." He telepathically shot back, grudgingly turning on his heel and approaching the ship's holocomm terminal, he attempted to establish a link to the unknown ship.
"Unknown vessel. This is the transport ship Discovery. You are not hidden from us, please respond."


"Something is wrong Master Xu." Xu's silver fur rippled as he stirred from his meditation. Wrong?
"How could anything be wrong? Everything had been calculated perfectly. Jedi seers don't get things wrong." Came his low hiss to the pilot, not even opening his eyes.
"That is the thing sir. We're being, uh, hailed by the Imperial ship." Xu's red eyes shot open at this. How did the Imperial ship even know they were there? Did the distraction not work? He pulled himself away from the jumpseat and over to the cockpit.
"Fine, I'll answer, proceed." With the press of a button on the comms terminal, a holoimage flickered into view - a small humanoid in floor length armoured robes and a masked, horned helmet. Xu's nose unconsciously wrinkled. "Sith."

"Such a...warm greeting." The Sith's voice was muffled by his face-covering mask, but still audible - and strangely to Xu, relatively neutral despite the brief sarcasm. "I am Lord Khadae, this vessel's passengers are under my and my Master's protection. Why are we being attacked? We are unarmed." If he were any other Cathar, Xu's response would probably have been laughter. As a Jedi however, he remained silent.
"An Imperial vessel, unarmed? You expect me to believe such Sith lies?"
"I ask again, why are we being attacked?" Again, the Sith spoke relatively neutral, but a Sith doesn't have to be emotional to lie. That, and why would the Sith be transporting anything so important in an unarmed vessel?
"You hold something you stole from us, we're getting it back, Sith lies or no." With Xu's subsequent hand signal, the pilot cut the feed, the Sith's dastardly image disappeared. Xu turned to the pilot, "Feigning ignorance is a common tool of the Sith. They are on board, I can sense it, they have them." A bolt from the turbolasers of the Republic vessel flashed by the cockpit's windows and struck the Imperial transport's shields once again. The shields flickered one more time at the strike, before finally giving out.
"...and now their shields are down sir." Reported the pilot, "Moving in, troops get ready."


"All hands, prepare. We are being boarded. Will all passengers bound for Korriban please move to Suite Five where you shall be secured. All remaining crew ensure that you stay out of harm's way."

The Captain's announcement rang throughout the ship. Lord Khadae had taken to meditating on the bridge - or appearing to meditate, he was in fact trying to coordinate the situation with his Master without the risk of being overheard. It was a shame that the ship they were on couldn't have been larger - Suite Five was the most secure area but it could barely fit the twenty people directed to it let alone the remaining forty-two as well, which would have been preferred. It didn't seem like it would matter, the Jedi claimed he was looking for something stolen, the Captain and his Master had both decided that letting the Cathar look for it without resistance would be the best thing. Sure, Lord Khadae thought that playing with the Jedi and letting him bleed a little would certainly be a lot more enjoyable, but while his Master did not disagree with the joy of bleeding Jedi, that might start him killing people. That wouldn't reflect too well on the pair of Sith charged with not letting these people get killed.

Things did appear to be going well, the bridge had been eerily quiet since the boarding, aside from the Captain's unnerving pacing before one of the consoles, waiting for any updates. Lord Khadae could feel his nervousness - his crew in potential danger, his livelihood at stake, of course his nervousness was emanating from him in waves. It was almost distractin-WHAT!

Lord Khadae's head snapped up at what he had suddenly sensed through the Force. A thing that was usually joyous, exhilarating...but in this situation, what it means...
"Captain, I sense death! Someone has been killed!"
"WHAT!" The Captain charged to the console he had been pacing before. He had been so nervous he hadn't been doing what he was meant to - keeping an eye on the boarders. His hands danced across the console, a holoimage lit up. Indeed, a crewman, dead. A split replay of the feed showing one of the troopers that had boarded with the Jedi gunning him down unprovoked. This was not something unexpected of Republic grunts such as this, but when led by a Jedi, the idea was downright mystifying. The holofeed the Captain now had tracking the boarders was showing an encounter with two other crewmembers. Unarmed, non-confrontational, trying to back away, another trooper turning on them...
The Captain looked away. Lord Khadae was unsure what to think about the sensation of their deaths. Something is very, very wrong here...


The sound of the bridge doors opening, the quiet pad of uncovered paws followed by the heavy jackboots of soldiers. The bridge crew looked up and froze, the Captain seeming to be the only one who could move. The Captain stepped forward to confront his visitors, stepping before Lord Khadae as the masked Sith continued his meditation-like kneeling.
"You attacked my unarmed ship," The Captain was saying, Lord Khadae was paying partial attention to the situation and partial attention to what his Master was conveying to him, "You have killed most of my crew, who were also in the majority unarmed. Why? You claim we have something of yours, what is it? What in this universe is so important that a Jedi murders the undefended?"
"Justice." Came the Cathar's answer, "You have kidnapped, and kidnappers must face justice. I do not know how you managed to overcome them, but the idea that you're unarmed and you did that, it reeks of Sith lies even worse than what that one behind you has already spouted." Lord Khadae could hear the tension in the Jedi's voice, feel the tinges of anger trying to break through his carefully maintained calm, sense the heat of the Jedi activating his lightsaber.
Oh...Lord Khadae knew what might be coming next...this Cathar Jedi's "justice".

It took only one scream - the Captain's, to draw Lord Khadae to his feet. Sure, reacting to death by trying to protect the attacked was hardly a very Sith-like thing to do, but his and his Master's duty was meant to be in protecting those being transported, and protecting the rest of the crew was generally a good way to go about it. Blue lightning danced around Lord Khadae's fingertips, the surge of Force power erupting as a lightning arc striking the nearest of the troopers. Feeling the soldier being struck, sensing his death, that was much better. Lord Khadae's attack turned to the other Republican troopers, lightning jumping between them, an overcharge briefly jumping to Lord Khadae's helmet horns before joining another lance directed at the troopers. Through all this was a barely heard cry through the Force. No, a shout. Telepathic.
"Back off! Khadae, back!"

Pain. Nothing like he had felt before.
Lord Khadae's halt in attack and retreat at his Master's shout had been enough, but not quite. The Jedi's thrown lightsaber had still met it's target, though it had not killed him as it would have done if he had not backed away. Lord Khadae had been struck by training sabers many times, but never had he been with an actual lightsaber. His mask and helmet were smoking, the intense heat having melted the metal and singed the fabric. The protection that they provided having been compromised, Lord Khadae pulled them off his head.

A cascade of red hair loosed from his helm fell across his shoulders, framing an elaborately tattooed green face. The fresh lightsaber burn marring some of the black and red marks, the swelling from the wound giving him difficulty in keeping his yellow eyes open.
"You're...Mirialan..." Lord Khadae would have judged the comment to be in surprise if the one saying it were not Jedi.
"You're Jedi." Came Lord Khadae's retort, "Aren't we Sith the ones meant to be engaging themselves in mayhem and bloodbaths?" Silence, for a considerable amount of time given the situation. Cathar and Mirialan, Jedi and Sith, both unmoving, both silent.
"I see how it is," The Jedi was the first to stir, closing his red eyes lightly, "I see now. You are Sith. I have to look at you as Sith. You are not Mirialan, you're Sith. Sith are not Mirialan, so you are not Mirialan." Lord Khadae had barely enough time to process these words before he could sense the Jedi reignite his lightsaber. He charged his lightning again, but he could still sense the Jedi's power. Even if the painful burn across his face hadn't nearly swollen his eyes shut, he understood now that he didn't really stand a chance in close quarters combat against a Jedi skilled with a saber.

For one taught how to fight in an offensive manner, being put onto the defensive is difficult. There were times where Lord Khadae's combat training had no solution, so he was obliged to having to dodge, relying on blind-fighting skills he had yet to properly perfect. He didn't carry a lightsaber, he was not very adept at their use and usually would be fighting from range - but trying to get out of close quarters was being quickly countered with having an unknown kind of Force energy being hurled at him, delaying him long enough for the hot plasma blade to come for him again. A new searing of pain as a misstep caused the blade to contact his chest, not enough to make any kind of deep impact, but enough to damage the connectors between his pauldrons and breastplate, dropping what armour his robes had to the ground and leaving a fresh reddened mark across his collarbone and pectorals. He stumbled back from the strike, bumping into a forgotten console, unsure of what would follow though expecting another strike.

The sound of plasma hitting plasma made Lord Khadae lift his head and attempt to open his eyes in spite of the swelling. A large form he couldn't quite make out stood before him, holding a pair of red lights that blocked a green one.
"Master."
"My apologies for taking so long, and using you to hold off a Jedi until our plan was completed." Coming from any other Sith, this response would sound like a lie. Coming from Darth Troskohn however, the only Sith who would look beyond Lord Khadae being Mirialan to focus on his actual power, it was actually genuine. The larger Sith turned to the Jedi whose lightsaber he was barring, "Hey Tooka, how about picking on someone your own size!" The sound of lightsabers humming, slicing through the air, clashing, as two masters of lightsaber combat began duelling. Lord Khadae used the brief window to pull himself from the console he was leaning upon, observing the duel through the Force from further away. Both of their Force power was immense, a much greater balance than in comparison with him, it was little wonder as to why he was so easily overwhelmed despite the power he did have. Well, that means more training, more power. Lord Khadae mused, So when Master is finished with this Cathar, we can get back to Korriban and work on training more.

With twin red blades breaking through the Jedi's trained defence and plunging straight into his furry chest, Lord Khadae let out a gleeful cry. He could sense the Jedi's coming end, a laugh from Darth Troskohn seeming to seal it. A laugh that was caught in his throat as the Jedi, with what must have been the last of his strength, thrust his lightsaber at Darth Troskohn, the blade burying itself in the Human Sith's throat. All three blades deactivated at the same time, dropping from their owner's hands, soon followed by their bodies. The silver Cathar collapsed onto the corpse of the Captain, Darth Troskohn slumped to the floor against the holoterminal. Both very much dead. Lord Khadae screamed, running over to where he had last sensed them standing.

The smell of burnt flesh and smouldering armour lingered in the air. There were dead Republican soldiers, dead Imperial pilots, a dead Jedi, a dead Sith, corpses everywhere. As Lord Khadae stood where the last battle had taken place, he could sense no one on the bridge. Observing this, pain that had been throbbing in the background began searing again, the burns across his face and chest feeling like they were being redone with each breath. Lord Khadae just sank to his knees, kneeling beside his Master's corpse. He dropped onto his side, his head laid upon Darth Troskohn's chest, what vision he had beneath swollen eyes wavering at the welling of tears, before darkening as he lost consciousness.