Chapter One

Snug in the cockpit of his X-wing starfighter, Kalos Lysander peered at the heads-up display to check his vector as he cleared the planet Ryloth's atmosphere, attempting with little success to mentally push away the sick feeling growing awkwardly in his stomach as the dim light enveloped the starfighter and the familiar rumbling ceased. The R7 astromech droid, model number A2, nestled behind him tootled almost mockingly, though Kalos ignored it as his vision refocused. "I hate flying," he muttered irritably to himself.

Rolling to starboard, Kalos followed the flight path indicated by the newly downloaded information. As he descended further and further down, a jungle of lofty silver skyscrapers, antiquated in their arched design, jutted out from the clay-colored surface that surrounded the borders, most of which were enveloped by thick fog. Soon, little blue blips on his radar indicated civilian vessels, all moving about in a surprisingly organized manner. He wondered if it would look strange to the inhabitants that a lone starfighter was incoming.

The habitable band that stretched across the planet did not allow for much volume to accommodate more structural and population capacity when compared to that of Coruscant, and the never-ending twilight was something that could take some getting used to, but Ryloth had a certain bizarre appeal to it. Kalos had grown up here for a large portion of his life until he was sent to Yavin IV to continue his training into Knighthood, and was glad that if everything went smoothly, he would remain in the area for the next couple of days.

A heavy, raucous voice crackled through his communications unit from the capital ship in orbit over the planet, an Imperator-class Star Destroyer named iErasmus/i. "Black Knight, this is Jester. Any signs of trouble?"

Kalos shook his head out of habit, gazing out the port and starboard panes but seeing nothing unusual. "Negative, Jester. I feel something odd on the fringes of my awareness, but I can't be certain."

"Odd? Meaning?"

"As in, weird."

A pause. "I copy that. Follow your flight path and keep an eye out for any more anomalies. Report in once you've scraped all nav points, Archer Leader." Before the comm unit clicked off, he heard someone in the background mutter something about "those oddball Jedi".

"Roger." Kalos listened to the hypnotizing drone of the fighter as the static clawing at his ears came to an abrupt halt, then snapped back into reality as he heard a civilian ship buzz over his head. "R7, isolate civilian ships registered in the Alliance's database on radar and dim their signatures. Then broaden sensors to include any barely noticeable blips, preferably unknown reads."

The droid whistled in confirmation, and made the changes. The new radar scans appeared on the left side of his HUD, but only accomplished dimming the bright colors that once decorated the muted orange field as he circumnavigated his area of investigation. Kalos exhaled, disappointed. "This is Arch Leader, nothing to report."

"This is Archer Four, negative."

"Ahhh, this is Archer Two, I got nothing here either."

Similar reports from the three other squadron members sputtered through the channel.

Kalos flicked his eyes over the cityscape below. It seemed like any other day, and yet a head clan member of the Twi'leks claimed there were a few unknown fighters that had attacked specific points in the city as if they had planned it. "All reports accounted for. Archer Squadron, proceed with one more pass, then return home. Seven and Nine, you'll be landing with me to investigate the vicinity." A series of confirmations met his orders.

Against protocol, Kalos' comm unit buzzed again. When it indicated a private channel, he rolled his eyes. He opened the frequency. "Yes, Daéya?"

An angry feminine voice filled his earpiece, almost making him wince. "What the hell do you mean, 'Seven and Nine'?! I'm Two, remember!"

"Yeah, I know," Kalos said casually, half smirking to himself for a split second.

"I saw that!"

Kalos turned his head, watching as a similar XJ model fighter came onto his right wing. He sighed, banking on course as he turned toward the inside of the city. Sunlight spilled into both cockpits, and Kalos could just make out his Twi'lek friend sneering at him with a peeved expression on her face.

"So?"

"Well," she started saying, her tone and features suddenly growing more placid, "I suppose it is good that you even cracked a smile." Her voice and indignant look relapsed. "I still hate it, though!"

"Just this once, Daéya. I don't want you taking an unnecessary risk, and chances are we won't find anything anyway."

"But—!"

She was cut off by a sudden flash from red to orange on Kalos' console, followed by a urgent beeping alarm. The droid screeched harshly behind him, pivoting its head around to look to the stern. Glancing at his radar, he watched as a thin white blip launched from within the city and started pursuing his fighter at a startling speed towards his three o'clock. Instinctively, he banked to starboard and punched the throttle as fast as it would go, away from the city.

"Inbound missile on Arch Leader! I repeat, inbound missile! Switching to attack position!" Daéya shouted into her comm unit.

The suddenness with which it had happened left Kalos stunned, as he could now sense the potent viciousness from a group of people on the ground directed that was directed at him. How can they hide themselves for that long?

As the concussion missile closed the gap between them, he began banking left, right, and rolled in attempt to throw it off. All too soon, however, Kalos was thrown forward in his seat, his head slamming into the side as flames erupted on his starboard wing.

"He's been hit!" someone shouted into his head.

"I'm okay!" he shouted back as strongly as he could, straightening himself in his seat. One glance out the window told him the entire story: debris fluttered to the cityscape below, and a brutal heat licking at his back told him that he and his ship was lucky to still be in one piece, at least for the moment.

"Eject!"

"Now!"

"GET OUT OF THERE!"

Reaching out with a singed left arm, he flipped open the glass protection lid and pulled tightly on a sparking lever. All at once, he felt his body being yanked upward by the ejection pod. Only though the Force was he still able to make sense of what was going on around him. No sooner than he had cleared the battered X-wing that it had exploded, sending waves of heat and small shrapnel over the pod. Breathing heavily, he looked out through the viewpane and watched as he hurtled for the city below.

Kalos heaved his injured body from the wreckage, clenching his teeth together as a flourish of pain surged throughout his limbs and head. He was considerably bruised, with a few lacerations across the left side of his head, however he was otherwise very aware of his surroundings and he felt pretty intact otherwise.

A large group of people, mainly Twi'leks but dotted here and there with humans and other species, gathered around the fallen object. As soon as his head poked over the brim, there was a commotion as some tried to reach up towards him and help him down. Kalos raised his hands as two Twi'leks helped him out and began brushing him off furiously. Bombarded by questions of his health, he continued to shake his head and show that he was relatively unharmed.

A young human girl pointed towards the lightsabers dangling from the belt on his robes and shouted. Suddenly everyone grew silent and began backing away a couple steps. Kalos raised a curious eyebrow, glancing between all of them. They were each looking at him as though they were looking at a dying rancor that could fall on top of one of them.

When he felt better and his panting was reduced, Kalos adjusted his robes and slowly hopped down from the pod and pushed through the crowd, most getting out of his way as fast as they could. Through the Force, he could feel all of their emotions, a mixture of hatred and fear of him. He stopped and looked at a male Twi'lek that appeared middle-aged, making him wince. "Is everything okay here?" he asked in most amiable, casual tone he could muster, though he the words were a little slurred given his state.

The man uttered a few quick words in Twi'leki in a nervous, high-pitched tone. Hard as he tried, he couldn't understand despite how much Daéya had taught him of the language. When he didn't respond, the Twi'lek turned and ran haphazardly away from the throng.

Without stopping, he began walking towards where he last felt the feelings of malice, keeping one arm on a lightsaber beneath his robes and his senses sharp.