The moment began like any other moment. Ithica watched as the front of the ship began to dip low in orbit. Around him klaxons blared and there were people shouting, none of this phased Ithica. He crawled forward. There was nothing on this bridge or on any other part of the ship that would stop him. Through the lights and noise he found him. Ithica's brother, Tyridac, lay on his side holding his head.

Tyridac was always so strong and to see him like this made Ithica even more determined. He and his brother had lived on the streets of Nar Shaddaa for the last three years of their lives. Relying on the bond that they shared as family. It was hard, no doubt, but it was all they had. With every bit of strength a 9 year-old could muster, he drew his brother close to him. There, amidst the chaos, he held his brother.

The ship was dropping through the atmosphere now. Ithica could feel the heat start to well up from beneath him, though he didn't understand why. Of all the ships in the Republic, the D-12 Cruiser was the least aerodynamic. An elongated oval shaped body with small fins protruding from each side. A short neck section that connected the command deck to the rest of the ship. The command deck was another story completely. It took a page from the Ithorians with a large, flat section that was inverted when compared to the rest of the ship. This gave it the apt nickname of "Hammer-head." As a warship, it was never meant to enter the atmosphere. If it didn't explode from the heat it would fly apart from the friction.

The noise came to a fever pitch as the panic started to settle in. Ithica couldn't discern where any single facet of sound was coming from; it all blended into one horrific maelstrom. Closing his eyes against his brother he began to scream. Ithica wasn't really sure what was happening, wasn't really sure why he screamed. It just seemed the right thing to do.

Out of all of the noise and the lights. Vandaar found them. He came running through the bridge, deftly avoiding the throng of screaming people. Ducking low against the twins as he scooped them up. Around him, the sounds of rending metal could be heard. He didn't have much time. With the twins tucked safely in each arm he began to move towards the back, trying with all of his might to think of a way out of this situation. None, however, presented themselves. Out of desperation, and quite possibly anger, he fumbled his light-saber from his waist. It was a long shot but it was the only shot he and the twins had.

He crouched low and spoke while projecting comforting thoughts to the twins. "I need you both to grab onto my back and hold on real tight." Vandaar always felt bad about projecting his thoughts into people, especially kids, but there would be time to feel sorry later.

The twins seemed to understand and soon they were both around his neck. They were squeezing so hard it was choking him but Vandaar didn't mind. If he were in their position he would have done the same. This brought a smile to his face as he ignited his light-saber, the brilliant gold blade fighting back the ghastly red shadows of the ships warning systems. With the skill that could only be attained from years of service to the Jedi, he cut the door from the bridge. First, he brought his saber up through the locking mechanism on the door. It met only slight resistance as the metal instantly began to boil. He then brought the saber out to his side, taking extra care to not carry out the arc that his training demanded. He rolled his shoulder and brought the saber over-head and down through the hinges in one fluid overhead motion.

It all seemed to happen in slow motion; the metal warped then buckled. The sudden decompression pulling at Vandaar. Were it not for the force he would have been swept out into the sky over Talus along with the door. He, however, did have the force. Taking a deep breath, remembering all that he had accomplished as a Jedi Knight, Vandaar released the barrier. All at once he was swept out of the ship into the night. Vandaar smiled as he fell towards the ground, having no idea what his next move was.