Author's note: May the fourth be with you! For the Star Wars unofficial holiday, I decided to upload what I have so written for The Siege of Lothal. This is not the final piece so some things may be changed and mistakes corrected when I publish it, so please enjoy! And am I the only person counting down the days till SWR season 2 airs? 47 more days! And, once again, may the fourth be with you, always.

The Siege of Lothal

Lothal shone like an oasis in the endless sea of space. Oceans of deep blue break through shades of green land, streaks of blue cutting through the green, as if done by a light hand, white clouds blocking off the top of the globe, Lothal was a relief for the eyes of weary space-travelers, so used to only the never ending mass of darkness called space. Winking specks of light scattered around Lothal, each systems with their own planet, complete the beauty of the planet. Lothal would have been the image of beauty and peace if it was not for the ships in it's orbit.

The first one to come into view was an Imperial C-ROC carrier ship. At first, it appears to be quietly flying through the endless sea of space but, as it came closer in view, one could see the fires erupting all across its surface. Closely following was an array of ships. Sleek, black TIEs firing blinding rays of green beams. A-wings, some with blue stripes, others red, firing red. Two of them cling like bats to a cave, on, what it first seems like a simple cargo ship. The "simple" cargo ship, christened the Ghost by its inhabitants, was a beauty of a ship. Diamond-shaped, with a shuttle-shaped cockpit with an bubble underneath it on its front, and an another bubble resting on its top, it flew like an A-wing, no, better then a A-wing. The Ghost weaves between rays of green light as gracefully as if it had been flying through an gentle breeze and, almost squat dead in front of the Imperial carrier, unleashes its hitchhikers. The A-wings swiftly soar off the Ghost, guns already aiming and firing at the carrier. Close behind the Ghost, another ship flies. The Phantom too shoots blinding rays of light at the carrier.

Inside the Ghost'scockpit, sat a twi'lek. Hera didn't need the pilot's uniform she wore, to tell people she was an pilot. Behind the controls of the Ghost, she was able to coax sharp turns and fast speeds no one could have fought possible for what they would have thought was a simple cargo ship. Leaning forward in her seat, eyes narrowing and her lips setting into a fine line of concentration, Hera aims her ship forwards, faster then anyone would think possible, her target; getting as close to the crates locked onto to the edge of the ship. Turning on the comm, Hera shouts into it, "Aim for the crates!" Kanan's voice almost immediately shouts back, "Working on that!"

Zeb, leaning forward in the co-pilot's seat, watches through the cockpit window as the Phantom steers close to the carrier's cargo.

"I'm on my mark," Sabine announces to the comm. Leaning forward, her face contorting in concentration, both hands wrapped tightly around the Phantom's controls, she presses down on the gun's buttons and watches, a smile pulling the corners of her mouth up, as red beams blast the cargo's lock off. The cargo quickly drifts off into the vacuum of space.

Hera, a smile growing on her face too, though her eyes were still narrowed in concentration, guides the Ghost into an dive towards the floating cargo. "Igniting magnetic lock!" Hera announces over the comm as, as soon as the cargo got close enough to the ship's bottom, she does as she said. The cargo latches onto the Ghost's bottom, caught by it's magnetic force. The Phantom quickly attaches to the Ghost, Sabine grinning inside.

"Mission accomplished," Hera announces, victory surging through her words. Cheers of voictory shout through the comm, shouted by the pilot's of the A-wings and her own crew alike. Hera, quickly sending out hyperspace coordinates to the A-wings, dances her fingers across the Ghost's controls. Soon, the streaks of hyperspace shine outside the cockpit. The Ghost and her A-wings become only a speck of light in the distance before even that disappeared.

-Specter 1-

The corridor was filled with darkness, deepening the farther it went from the only living being in it. If it could count as a living being. The lightness part of the corridor was the smoke curling around the feet of the being. And the being was, if it could be, the darkest part of the room. Not darkest as in dark, the simple thing that lurks beneath beds, cracks, and which haunts a child's mind, no, dark as in Dark. The Dark side. Midnight black armor encasing his body, a helmet ending in silver points near his chin, an cape flowing behind him as he marches forwards, the brightest part of the being was the glowing light on his belt and the life support buttons on his chest.

"Lord Vader," Emperor Papaltine had said.

"Yes Master,"

Darth Vader marches on, a red blade growing out of the hilt of his lightsaber, his cape blowing behind him.

"The rebels of the Lothal system, hunt them down."

Stormtroopers, encased in armor and helmets like Darth Vader, glowing eerily white in the darkness of the corridor, flood behind him, each holding an ready blaster.

"As you wish."

-Specter 2-

The office was almost pitch black. The only smudge of light shone from brown orbs and the faint outline of a woman in her early thirties or late twenties. The faint outline of a shaking hand reaches through the darkness towards the outline of an crescent shaped desk. The shivering tips of the hand press something and a moment later, a flickering blue hologram bursts to life in the center of the room. The hologram was of the bust of a being. It's features concealed in a hood, the rest of the bust covered in a robe, whoever the being was, it did not want to been seen by unwanted eyes. A masked voice streams from the being, saying monotony, "Fulcrum reporting in."