"Doctor's log, patient #2742, name...ugh, who cares? One of the grunts."

"Hey! My name is-"

"I swear to god, if you interrupt me again I'll suture your lips to your rectum.."

Oryon shot a dirty look to the Imperial soldier lying on the bunk, and then continued his report. "Treatment for sandburn and heatstroke because the idiot let himself get dehydrated while on patrol. Passed out like a ninny. Treated with antibiotics and rehydrators. Patient requested painkillers. Request was denied on account of the fact that painkillers are for real injuries."

Oryon sighed and set his datapad down on the countertop. The Empire supplied these soldiers for manpower at Legion outposts, but Oryon was starting to suspect that they were not being given the picks of the litter. It seemed that far too much of his precious time was wasted treating these soldiers for asinine injuries. "Incompetent academy rejects and flunk outs."

"Excuse me?" The soldier on the bunk lifted his head at the remark, but quickly laid back down after another look from the Chiss doctor. Oryon added a syringe of sedative to the man's IV bag, and it was less than a minute later that the soldier was out cold.

Oryon had made the decision to spend some time ground level at the Legion's home base on Tatooine. He claimed it was to get back to his roots for a while, practicing medicine on a local level. In reality, he had needed to distance himself from Asmodeus for a while. For years the Sith had been playing his plans close to the chest, taking risks and making decisions that affected all their lives. Oryon used to be a part of that process, advising him and opposing him when he crossed a line. It seemed that lately, however, Asmodeus had begun to feel that he and he alone had the right and the power to make these kind of decisions. After the events at the Tartarus facility, where their lives were put in extreme peril more than once, Oryon had come to the decision that something had to change. Asmodeus could no longer be allowed to play games with their lives.

The old man was crafty, however. If Oryon had planned to make any move against him while operating so close to him, the Sith would have picked up on it. It was imperative that he put some distance between the two of them before any action was taken. Oryon was clever too, and knew that for some problems, only the most carefully executed of solutions would succeed.

Oryon sat down at his desk and brought up his comm panel. He keyed in an encrypted 36 digit code and waited patiently for the comm channel to be secured. After a few minutes, a blurred image of a young woman appeared on the holo. The encryption was heavy, and intentionally fragmented to prevent either side of the communication from seeing the other clearly. This worked to Oryon's favor, as he could see Kaikorero clearly on the hidden camera he had coerced Tal'aran to place in the young woman's room, but she would be unable to see him clearly.

"Report in."

The young woman shifted uncomfortably. "He took me to dinner last night. Gave me...you know. Clothes and stuff."

Oryon smiled. This was perfect. "Excellent. His guard is as down as it will ever be. The timing could not be better."

Kaikorero shifted again, her leg tapping nervously. "Are you sure?"

"He's buying you gifts, personally taking you out to dinner? If he were any younger he'd be courting you. He's accepted you. This is the chance we've waited for. Its time to move forward with the plan."

A groan came from the cot beside him. Oh, of all the inconvenient...

"I have to go. Get started with the next phase of the plan, immediately." He cut the comm and looked back at the soldier nearby. Had he been waking through any of that? How much had he heard?

Oryon pulled out his datapad and struck the latest log from the record. He began to dictate a new one.

"Patient's log, #2742. Subject presented with minor injuries. Unfortunately, Psych must have mis-evaluated him. Patient was obviously suicidal, and injected himself with a fatal dose of anesthesia when my back was turned." He choked back a fake sob. "It never gets any easier."

He closed the datapad and prepared another dose of sedative.

A flash of light. A loud BOOM echoed through Michael's Coruscant apartment. Pravitas yanked back on a rope as hard as he could, and Michael Halcyon came tumbling out of the miniature Rift suspended in the air just before it grew unstable and slammed closed. "You idiot!" Pravitas yelled, running over to Michael. "I told you this was too risky."

Michael was grinning like an idiot. "It works. It works. Pravitas, I was there. I was home. It works!"

Pravitas sighed. He had a bad feeling about this. "Its too unstable. There's no way we could keep it open long enough to-"

A flash of light. A crack of thunder. The Rift suddenly ripped back open and roared in pain. Pravitas and Michael shielded their eyes, and a man stepped through.

He was tall, and surrounded by a golden aura. He looked down at Pravitas and Michael angrily.

Michael was shellshocked. "A...Guardian?"

The golden man nodded. "We need to talk."