Scylla settled against the bulkhead, noting how it crumpled slightly under his weight, "Very well. I feel I need to ask you a few questions as well Psyker. My first being, did you know there was a native Xeno presence?"

The Psyker nodded, "I knew about the Gungans. They are an isolationist warrior cuture. Not particularly well liked by the Naboo, but tolerated, in light of, they haven't attacked yet." A brief pause, then the Psyker continued, "Your cruiser, it was heavily damaged in combat, but inside the area of the Grand Republic, I have heard of no battles, merely stand-offs, so I suspect you are not from Republic space."

"I am from the Imperium of Mankind, under his unceasing Imperial Majesty, the God-Emperor of Mankind, an empire that spans most of the galaxy. I am at a loss for how this 'Grand Republic' was able to slip under our radar for so long, but as soon as my carrier is able to make a Warp jump again, we shall head immediately to Holy Terra, where this Republic will be inducted into the galactic empire. To refuse would be traitorous, and will lead to the systematic extermination of every planet in the Republic. My next question is where all the wreckage of the PDF vessels is. No blockade could have formed, had they been doing their job."

"There was none. The blockade was formed in the night, in minutes. The Naboo had no time to respond. It was best to not send up men to be killed in droves, since Naboo produces so few good pilots."

"What good are they then?"

"Naboo mainly exports water and plant-life to planets that have been unable to provide their own for various reasons. Now, my question, why do you keep referring to myself and my Padawan as Psykers? We are Jedi, members of a noble tradition, not those lowlifes that use their Force gifts to steal and rob."

"I feel something may be seriously wrong Qui-gon. Sit with me, and I will explain."

_POVSHIFTPOV_

Caldera kicked the Warp-drive from the Xeno vessel. It was giving funny readings, and not linking to the Gellar-field generators properly. They might have to do a manual override. "Servitors, get me a large switch! It needs to be able to handle the Gellar-field kickback."

_POVSHIFTPOV_

The chrome vessel soared up into the void, and paused majestically as both pilots stared at the wreckage. Lukas was the first to speak, "Damn. Would've thought they'd put up more of a fight, like at least a half hour after we left. Hey, Ric, could you bring us in closer, I want to get a better look at those missile-holes."

Ric shrugged, but eased in closer, flying carefully around the wreckage, avoiding any of the bodies he knew would make a thump if they hit. As they floated through a gaping hole in one of the Lucre-hulks, Lukas pointed at the rippled shape of the hole, "These are Lance shots, not missiles. That's insane. Lances aren't used to assault ships, only the shields. Cannons are used to tear the bare metal apart."

"Uh huh…Looks like turbo-laser fire to me, though excessive amounts of it."

Lukas scoffed, "Nonsense. If these were Turbo-lasers, there'd be a lot less hull. Not such clean scarring, or intact structure."

_POVSHIFTPOV_

Qui-gon looked at the man, "I have no idea how much of that story was Bantha Poodoo, but I know that if any of it was true, then you and your crew are seriously misplaced. Your Imperium does not exist here, with the exception of your four ships. Your culture is more violent than any currently living in the Republic. Your crew will have to be broken up and retired, with paid therapy sessions to recover from the horror of where they came from."

"I am afraid that will simply not work, psy…Jedi. I will go, in person, to present a case to this Senate of yours, to issue my fleet Trader status, so we are not restricted in our travels, or in our attempts to return to our true home."

Qui-gon sighed, "Very well. We will be jumping straight to Coruscant as soon as you have informed your crew then."

Scylla looked at Hannah, "Do we have Gold on the signal?"

"w3 d0. 7R4N5m1771n'. P3Rm15510n 9r4N73D 70 804RD. 5h4LL w3 1N171473 d0Ck1N' PR0c3DUr3z?"

Qui-gon shook his head, "That will not be necessary. This vessel is fully Hyperspace capable without a carrier. Let your ship know that we will be travelling to Coruscant. They are welcome to follow when repairs are complete."

Hannah chittered again, broadcasting to the ship, before turning back to the Inquisitor, "h1gh pR1357355 kAld3rA 5AY2 '1f y0u D13, D182 0N ur 57UFF'"

_POVSHIFTPOV_

There was no way a ship that size carried a fully functional Warp drive, and where was it hiding the Navigator? Scylla scowled, but tried to hide his unease as he watched the pilot, Ric Ole, flipping switches and toggles without a word. Finally, he grabbed a large lever on the upper surface and pulled it forward. The stars streaked, and he flinched, noticing the matching reaction from Lukas. There hadn't even been a visual shield lowered over the view-port to protect their eyes, or a Gellar-field to protect their souls, yet he didn't feel the press of corruption. What Xeno sorcery was this?

The ribbons of light tore past and Scylla turned away, "Jedi, what sort of Warp drive do you use, that it does not bring us into the true Warp?"

"Hyperspace tunnel. It will take us approximately three days to fly to Coruscant, if everything has been properly calculated. With a pilot like Ric at the helm, it probably is."

Scylla nodded. It was Xeno-tech. Tau machinations. He knew the nose-less blue freaks had something to do with it. It did, however, explain why this particular band, who had been slaughtered wholesale, called themselves the Trade Federation. It was a more reliable shipping method than Warp travel.

A few moments of deliberation, and he realized something else, "Wait, three days? There's no way!" He knew it was impossible. Tau ships couldn't hop that far in a single jump, and it would take them weeks to get that far core-ward with the fifteen or so they would need.

"The Republic discovered this technology millennia ago, and have been perfecting it. It is far better than the original version, where you had no idea if you would wind up in a star, or a planet."

Scylla muttered something about another time altogether, and Qui-gon paused, "What was that?"

"There are recorded incidents of Warp travel dumping ships out centuries after they left, or even before, with the crew experiencing mere moments. Is it possible that is what happened here?"

Qui-gon stared at the Inquisitor, then started towards the computer console in the lounge, using a wave of his hand to bring it up. He immediately linked to the Jedi archives on Coruscant, and started searching, using keywords he had gleaned from the conversation. Hannah joined him, quickly picking up on the peculiarities of the device, and what oaths and invocations were necessary to the function of the machine.

_POVSHIFTPOV_

"Hannah's broadcast is still going strong. They are nearing the edge of her range though. Gone. Looks like they didn't explode though," Caldera turned to one of the surviving Psykers onboard, who had been sitting with her patiently, watching the Warp, "Are you still tracking them?"

"Indeed. I believe with help, myself and my brethren might be able to approximate a Navigator long enough to get us to Coruscant, though I cannot fathom why they would want to go to that Warp-pit."

"Excellent. We will fly by the light of Scylla's hallowed blade," she thought for a moment, "Possibility that in our absence, Coruscant developed maintenance facilities?"

"Fairly good, Priestess."

"Then to Coruscant we shall fly," she pressed her comm-bead, "Bridge to Engines, this is acting commander Caldera. How goes the rites of maintenance?"

"Fine lady, fine. Expected travel in three rotations of Terra."

"Thank you," she smiled with her still organic lips, "We shall leave the minute you complete the rites."

_POVTIMESHIFTTIMEPOV_

3 days

_POVTIMESHIFTTIMEPOV_

Scylla stood beside the Jedi master as the ramp lowered. Between Lukas and Ric, the landing had been more than smooth, and the Inquisitor intended to be the first representative of his fleet anyone saw. He had spent some of the time browsing this 'library' as the Jedi called it, though it resembled no library he had ever been in, and had learned, much to his sorrow, that wherever they were, and whenever they were, it was most certainly not the Imperium. There were no records of the Emperor, nor of his loyalists. No records of Warp incursions, or Daemonic possession. Planets with names he knew had showed up, but looking so much different and behaving far differently, around different stars.

He would have to inform his fleet upon returning to it that this galaxy was definitely not home, and thus, had different laws and traditions they must follow in public. The fact that his four ships possessed firepower in excess of that owned by entire worlds was quite sobering, and the sheer number of Xenos these humans consorted with on a daily basis made his head spin. Nonetheless, he would hold his tongue, and maintain neutrality until it was necessary not to.

The ramp lowered, revealing his spit-shined boots and freshly scrubbed leather coat first, then the brown boots of the Jedi. As his regalia became visible, he heard several gasps, and one, amusingly, coughing and wheezing. He made an effort to not smile as his square jaw came into view, flanked by his high collar, and sitting atop an elegantly carved golden Aquila with a brilliant blue diamond inset in the eye. When he was able to meet eyes with the people on the platform, his icy grey stare swept across them in an instant, determining politicians, potential threats, and potential amusements for later.

The obvious leader, a wizened, plump old man walked up to him, "Greetings. I am Grand Chancellor Valorum. Welcome to Coruscant."

Scylla waited the appropriate amount of time before raising his power-fist to the offered hand and gripping the forearm with enough strength to feel the bones in the Chancellor's arm, where it was clear there was no hidden blade. The Chancellor winced and withdrew his hand the instant it was released, "I understand that my small fleet is expected to be broken up and dispersed. Is this correct?"

The chancellor nodded, "Yes sir. The Republic cannot afford to have an army of that size just waiting to do something horrible."

Scylla fixed the man in an icy stare, distracting him and the other nobles from the appearance of Hannah and Lukas, who made their way to the shuttle in near silence, though the moment Hannah stepped off the Contra-grav platform, she spoke up, "WH47 4 LuDIcRou2 w4573 oF p3rf3C7ly 9ooD kOn7r4-9r4v 93N3R47oR2."

Fifteen pairs of eyes snapped up at that, and fifteen pairs of eyes traced the angular shape of the metal panels covering the indistinct female form. One pair of icy grey eyes flicked over to the lone noble who didn't. An elderly man, who held himself with such grace, but appeared far older in the eyes than body. Much like the Inquisitor. It was good to see that they had figured out age-regression technology here. It meant he could maintain his fitness regimen well into his three-hundreds. He walked up to the man, who held out the proper hand, which he took by the wrist, checking for a hidden blade. Right there, in the sleeve. The man was trying to pass it off as something else. The fact that he hid it in the right sleeve told Scylla that he had probably expected the hand to come from the left, as it had with Valorum, and something in the man's eyes told him something had been planned ahead of time.

He squeezed the man's arm tighter, and felt a presence pushing on his mind. This man was a Psyker. The weapon on his arm felt like the blade carried by the Jedi, their symbol of office, but the man did not hold himself the same. The presence started to push harder, but he resisted, calling on the Emperor silently to boost his resolve as he heard the whir of a Las-pistol preparing to fire. This was joined by the crackling of his power-fist lighting up, and he felt the push growing stronger. His retinue's weapons were joined by the crackle of the Jedi's laser swords, though he wasn't sure if they were helping him or the elderly man.

The mindscape was not exactly a place Inquisitor Scylla liked, but facing this man in their heads seemed the best bet. At least, until he saw the hideously ugly creature that towered over him, holding a massive energy blade. The grey expanse around them stretched on infinitely, and Scylla knew what he had to do. The creature charged him, swinging clumsily, like it had never fought in a mindscape, against a low-level Psyker, trained by the Ordos Xenos. It was certainly not a fair fight, but the creature's lack of skill was more than cancelled out by its size. On the other hand, as an Inquisitor, in the mind, Scylla was far stronger. He dropped his power-fist to the ground, not to break it, but to engage the translucent ground-like surface. As he lowered his head in prayer, behind him arose a small battalion of mobile armor. One he knew intimately, having been a quite clever mechanic before becoming an acolyte nearly a century and a half ago. Missiles, cannons, bolters. Everything he could remember went into those tanks.

The creature responded by staring in shock at something it obviously believed to be impossible, then into the eyes of Scylla, glowing a hazy blue from the feedback of the Warp energy. He wasn't strong by any means, but he knew how to play what he had. And now his glare pierced the monster as easily as the cannon-fire did.

Qui-gon's eyes flicked from the Inquisitor to the Senator, then back. They were locked in a staring contest, faces mere inches apart, mouths moving noiselessly. He felt an immense amount of power rippling in the space between them, the Force, going haywire. Darkness versus light, though it was impossible to tell which was which. Beside him, his padawan held the same pose, flanked by the pilot and Tech-priestess, wielding their own weapons, solely trained on the shorter Senator.

The cannon-fire did nothing, and Scylla felt a massive clawed fist collide with his chest. He coughed as the wind was blasted out of him. Possibly a broken rib, but he held fast, calling in another barrage.

The inquisitor lurched, and blood began to trickle from the corner of his mouth, but he held eye contact. Now it was more clear who the darkness emanated from. Palpatine. How could such a nice old man hide such darkness, and power?

The monster flinched back at the new onslaught, as Scylla tried to call on ever-more powerful weapons. The ground-fixture Lance was the last straw. It blasted a scorch mark into the bare white landscape, but wasn't enough. The daemon-creature still stood, and actually laughed at him before slapping him across the face with its claw again.

Power-fist still crackling, Scylla fell to his knees. His hand remained clamped firmly around Palpatine's forearm as the metal fist contacted the metal deck, tearing it apart in a rough circle. The two fell through the hole, and Hannah rushed over, the only one not stunned by the sudden-ness. The fight had taken a grand total of maybe four seconds, entirely in their minds, and all of a sudden, the two were plummeting through a power-fist induced hole in the now sinking platform.

She drove a dendrite-claw into the tattered deck and jumped over the edge, stretching out to grab the tail of his inquisitorial waistcoat. Clutching the mail-reinforced leather as tightly as she dared, she looked past the man, at the body hanging from his wrist. Being upside-down, his power-fist really had nothing preventing it from brushing against the torso repeatedly as they swung. Being still charged up, that meant in practice the body was more a sack of jelly hanging from a broken arm.

Hannah drew the two of them back up, carefully reaching up under the Inquisitor's arm, where the power-supply casing was, and she unplugged the battery cell. The power-fist went as silent as the inquisitor, who now lay on the deck, blood pooling around his head.

AN: So, now Palpatine's dead. A New Empire shall rise in his place.