Sorry for the lost of contact. I fell into the black hole that is school work and only recently emerged. I want everyone to to know this is a work in progress, so comments, questions, suggestions are appreciated. I ran into a small problem with the story: I have seven characters I have to juggle. I will try and give everyone a good bit of time, and flesh out everyone, but PROXY and Phase might not appear that much, and Fillet is a bit one dimensional at the moment. I wanted to warn everyone once again that this might stall due to my overactive imagination and schoolwork. Hopefully I can get enough done to keep you interested. Reviews are always welcome. I might be starting a new story for Starwars, specifically in the Movies section or Books section, wherever it is that you put Star Wars stuff not based on a game. I hope you check it out.

Also, if I messed up the KotOR reference, excuse it. I don't own the game and was just looking for a good Sith name. Besides, Cursr hates all things Sith and Jedi, so I feel it is justified.

Now, read.

The City of Clouds

Cursr watched the young man walk into The Vapor Room, a workman's cantina on the lower levels of Bespin's Cloud City.

It had been five months since the Sith had left Ziost. Cursr was not surprised to be off by a month — he was surprised he had been as accurate as he had been. During those five months he had been studying the inane babble that was Sith historical doctrine. And in that time he had found that the Sith were even more insane and delusional than he had believed. However, while most was slanted toward the Sith propaganda routine, the small patch of vital data was there, in the last place he looked.

The Sith Holocron had one scrap of information on the Eon Fleet. Cursr grinned. Their great warrior and Sith Lord, Revan, had given Cursr what he needed.

The Jedi have succeeded in one minor victory. While the Force Fleet might have been lost, we shall endeavor to retain it. Our spies in the Jedi Temple are close to finding the secret…

From there, the information turned into a Sith sermon, with no beneficial data. The Force Fleet was the term used by the Sith and Jedi, ignorant to the true name of the Eon Fleet.

Cursr knew now that the information he needed was on Coruscant, in the remains of the Jedi Temple. But the vision had told him to come here, to follow the Sith.

A transmission intercepted — between his pilot and the Sith —while the Sith was away from his ship gave Cursr even more information.

The Sith was referred to as Starkiller — obviously a code name — and the pilot was an Imperial woman named Juno Eclipse. There was a droid, too, that of PROXY. What the droid's function was, and the relationship between all three, was still a mystery. But Cursr knew that the Light side of the Force was becoming stronger in Starkiller. It was interesting. Five months had transformed Starkiller from Sith slave to a boy with a strong feeling of companionship — even love — and inner strength. Crushed as it was under the Sith training, Cursr knew it would take some tremendous act to move the darkness. But it would happen. It had to.

He did not move as the cockpit door opened. Phase did. The small R2 spun on his treads and one of the utility compartments sprang open. Where there should have been an elctro-prod, there was a blaster barrel and stun attachment.

Fillet froze in the doorway. "I am going to kill him. Rile knew it was going to happen."

"Yes," Cursr said, and allowed himself a snort of laughter as Fillet jumped. She hadn't noticed him, folded as he was in the copilot's chair. "Phase, Stand Down."

Phase blatted at the override code and the arm flicked back inside. The R2 turned back to its control panel and continued whatever it had been doing.

Fillet sat down in the pilot's chair. "He almost killed me. That droid has more than a few surprises."

"No."

"No what?"

"Phase only has the one and Rile did not want you dead." Cursr tapped a talon on the control board. "Even if he did, I would have prevented it. You are still useful to me. Besides, Phase is programmed to set to stun, not kill."

"Oh. Well, being stunned is no fun either."

"I wouldn't know."

"Right, because you're mister perfect."

"No, because the Force guides me in combat. I have never felt the sting of weapon."

"I doubt that."

"Indeed."

They lapsed into silence. Suddenly, Fillet pointed out the window. "Look. Stormies."

"What?"

"Stormtroopers. Heading for the cantina."

Cursr sighed. "Finally. It is in motion once more."

Starkiller stalked into the bar, and glanced around. The occupants were mostly Ugnaught workers, but there were a few other species besides the piggish featured technicians. One stood out, and Starkiller froze for a second, not really believing his eyes.

General Kota sat at a back table, a jug of strong liquor at his hand. He was disheveled, and his once silver hair hung in matted dirty grey strands. His eyes were covered with a likewise dirty bandage, and he wobbled a little in his seat.

"He wouldn't even recognize himself," Starkiller muttered.

He walked over to the General and kicked the table, making the old man jump.

"General Kota?" he asked, keeping his voice level.

"I've paid for this table," Kota grumbled, but his mouth hardened. "So whoever you are… get lost."

"General, I've tracked you across the galaxy. From Nar Shadda to Ziost to Force-forsaken holes in every stretch of the galaxy—"

"So who are you?" The General sagged, shrugging a grin onto his face. "A bounty hunter?"

"Not exactly, but I think we can help each other out, Jedi."f

"Jedi? Huh, I'm no Jedi now. Not since this…" Kota ran his hand over the bandage, wincing a little.

"I don't need your eyes, just your mind," Starkiller snarled. "And everything you know about fighting the Empire."

Kota barked a laugh. "No one fights the Empire and wins, boy."

A disturbance in the Force. Starkiller spun.

A stormtrooper squad marched into the cantina. The captain pointed at Kota. "There he is. Get him."

"You'd better hope you're wrong about that, General." Starkiller sent a shockwave through the Force, lifting a trio of stormtroopers off their feet and through a segment of transparasteel. "Juno, we need a pick up, outside the Vapor Room. Right now."

"On it. ETA two minutes."

"Well, that's not too bad." Starkiller slashed his saber through another trooper and sent the last two cart-wheeling into the wall. "Come on, General. Can't you move any faster?"

"I prefer to walk to my death," Kota slurred.

Starkiller rolled his eyes and turned to the door. Six men stood there, all in blue armor, tall, masked, and carrying light-staves. "Oh… sithspawn," Starkiller swore.

Rile sighted down the rifle once more. Then he tapped the commlink.

"Cursr?"

"Yes, Rile?"

"Where the sithspawn is he?"

The Vapor Room'souter wall exploded and two men hurtled through amid the debris, followed by a third with a blue lightsaber deflecting laser bolts. Four blue Senate Guards leapt after him.

"Ask and thou shall receive, Rile."

"Shut up, Cursr. When do I help?"

"Do not let yourself be known. Clear the way, but covertly. Kill those he cannot handle, but do not let anyone see you."

"Right, got it. Why so particular?"

"Need I explain the finer points of tracking to one so skilled in the field?"

"Flattery will get you everywhere with Fillet, Cursr. I want answers."

"I thought I gave them to you."

"Cursr…"

"Rile, he cannot know we track him. If he does he will focus on us, not his mission. Need I go further?"

Rile watched a carbonite canister explode, freezing a man in place. Starkiller grabbed an older man's arm and used the Force to jump to the upper levels of Cloud City's underbelly.

"It doesn't seem like he needs the help."

"Intervene when necessary. Use your judgment. I trust you brought it with you."

"You are not funny, Cursr."

Rile gazed down the rifle, following the two running forms. A couple hundred meters ahead two snipers set up, covered from sight from opposite them. But not from Rile.

"Hey, boys," he muttered, lining up the shot. "That is my job." Two shots fizzed the air, slagging the scout trooper's armor and spinning his companion around and off his perch.

"Nice. Two kills, one headshot. Let's get that percentage up."

Cursr sighed and rubbed his temples. Fillet grinned. "He still doing that self-conversation thing?"

All she got was an annoyed groan.

Starkiller gripped Kota with the Force and hurled him up and out of reach of a Senate Guard. His lightsaber clashed with the Guard's, sending sparks to dance on the ground.

Six months,Starkiller thought, flipping away from the Guard. Six months of planet hopping, back alley deals, coercion and bar-fights to find a Jedi General.

He charged the Guard, knocked his blade aside and kneed him in the flexible part of the chest plate, just under the ribs.

A single lead of the Empire heightening forces here, at Bespin.

He brought an elbow around into the hood-helm, buckling the plastoid armor.

And what do I get?

Starkiller ducked, grabbed the man's leg, and yanked up, tripping him. He flipped over the flailing limbs and sank his saber into the man's back, ending the confrontation. He spun and caught Kota's falling body with the Force before dumping him back on his feet.

A drunk.

"Come on, General. We're almost… there." Starkiller froze, watching the Lambda shuttle landing on the platform.

"Almost where, boy?" the general asked, bumping into his back.

"Sithspit. Juno, we need pick up. Right. Now."

The lander dropped the forward hatch doors and four stormtroopers marched out. They turned and stood at attention, ignoring the apparent Jedi not twenty meters from them. From the dark belly of the shuttle a figure strode. He looked just like the Senate Guards, except his armor was black, red visor blazing at Starkiller.

"I don't know a way to say how bad this is," Starkiller muttered, staring at the Shadow Guard.

"Try Huttese," Kota muttered back. "There are plenty of nasty words."

Starkiller felt something hit him, blasting him into Kota and both of them into the wall.

"Don't know Huttese," Starkiller snarled, bolting to his feet, rolling under another Force push and sending a bolt of lightning into a pair of stormtroopers. He slid under another Force attack and felt a third disperse over him. "This guy's good." Starkiller reached out and gripped a stormtrooper. "But I'm more creative."

The Shadow Guard did not hesitate to slice the thrown trooper in half.

Starkiller danced back, tossing another crate at the Shadow Guard. The metal seared in half and clanked behind the unstoppable onslaught of saber-staff cuts. Starkiller grinned. He gripped a stormtrooper and sent him hurtling at the attacker. Another slice and one more attempt was thwarted.

"Just as I planned," Starkiller muttered. He grabbed a nearby cylinder and hurled it at the Shadow Guard. The lightsaber slashed clean through, breaking the glass and releasing the compressed gas inside. The carbonite froze the man stiff, the momentum carrying the brittle trooper forward, the gravity of the fall smashing him into pieces.

"Creative," Rile said, grinning. "Cursr, I think Starkiller is in the clear."

"Stay there. We will come to you."

"Roger that."

Starkiller deactivated his lightsaber, and kicked a shard of what had been the Shadow Guard's arm.

Kota stumbled over the leg of a fallen stormtrooper and grasped Starkiller's shoulder. "Yours is a fool's errand, boy. The Emperor's army is infinite. You'll eventually be killed… or worse. And nothing will have changed."

"But wouldn't you rather die fighting, than drown in some cantina," Starkiller argued, and was surprised by the conviction in his voice. It was as if he really was fighting the Empire, not just serving out Vader's orders.

Kota stroked his goatee and shrugged. "I don't know. I really don't."

Starkiller felt tiredness seep into him. That was it. His only real chance, and the Jedi didn't even know what to do. He glanced up as Kota spoke again.

"But I do have a contact in the Senate who could use your lightsaber. Where's your ship?"

Right on cue there was a roar of engines and the Rogue Shadow soared up in front of them.

Rile nudged Fillet. "Hey, no hard feelings, right?"

"About what?"

"About Phase. And Cursr. And getting you into this for very little money."

"Oh, I'm getting my pay."

"Right. And Cursr is the Dark Lord of the Sith and Grand Master Yoda's son."

"He is? I thought he was Itaraian."

Rile glanced at her, found her wide grin and frowned at the viewport. "You're playful today."

"Didn't see any action, but I did get something out of Cursr while you were playing sniper."

"Really? What?"

"What he's after."

"Know that."

"How he's going to get it."

"Know that."

"What he's going to do with it."

"Know…" Rile's words caught and he glanced at her. "I never thought about that. What does he want with the Eon Fleet?"

"Something about 'returning the Force to its rightful place of power.'"

Rile feathered the lever forward, plunging them into hyperspace behind the Rogue Shadow. "Oh, that can't be good."

"Why not?"

Rile sat back in his chair and glanced over his shoulder. Then he met Fillet's eyes. "Fillet. Cursr is not out here of his own volition. He was banished. He's an outcast, a rebel, rabble-rouser and usurper."

"What?" Fillet hissed, glancing to the sleeping unit down the hall, where Cursr was meditating. "How old is he?"

"How old do you think he is?"

"I don't know. Thirty, Thirty-five standard years."

Rile chuckled. "They start them early on Itara. He's eighteen." He laughed and tapped Phase on the dome. "Hey, buddy. Holograph that expression. It's absolutely priceless. Close the mouth, Fillet. A Mynock might fly in."