The room was cold. It was always cold. Two shapes moved within the dark room, illuminated only by flashes of light as weakened blaster bolts darted through the air.
It was poetry.
Pale skin almost seemed to glow in the dim lighting. To an outsider it looked like a woman locked in endless struggle with her own reflection. Every blow, every movement was woven through the swarm of bobbing droids armed with weakened blasters.
A foot slithered through a slightly misaligned block, hard enough to crack a rib, but the dance did not falter. Instead the tempo increased.
Another mistake and one reflection was thrust into the path of two blaster bolts, catching her across her bare shoulders.
The dance ended, with a naked foot pressed against a sweaty throat.
"Yield. You remain the Last of the Handmaidens," the victorious woman said softly, her voice nearly as cold as the room.
The injured reflection struggled fitfully.
"You will always be Last. Accept it, and your shame," the naked woman told her defeated opponent. With a victor called, the droids no longer fired, simply hovered in standby.
A third figure entered the room, dressed in a hooded, formfitting garment of thick cloth, cut to conceal the face but leave the limbs and body free to move and strike. It was also quite warm.
"The Mistress requests our presence," the clothed figure whispered. All three women could have been reflections of the same white haired young woman... clearly marking them as Echani.
The victor sneered delicately and left the broken reflection to her injuries.
The Last rolled over to her stomach, feeling the chill of the floor burn at her skin. It competed for attention with the truly burned flesh on her back, and the false burn of her broken ribs.
She was the least among her sisters… but to not strive was to die. She would serve until she died, or her master released her.
Both options meant the end of her world.
The Last did not bother dressing, before answering the summons. The cold would help to focus her mind away from the injuries.
((()))
Luxa studied the datapad she'd received via anonymous courier. She knew who it was from. She even knew the source; B4-D4.
She held the key to Jana Lorso. The zeltron savored the sensation for several seconds. She paged through the document. Although it implicated some Exchange personnel as well, most of them were little more than foot soldiers, simple cut-outs. They could be replaced, and their absence until their sentence was served would not break the organization.
Now she needed the proper vector. She needed a whistle-blower. A man of conviction, but more importantly, a man (or woman, Luxa supposed mirthlessly), that was foolish enough to allow sentiment to cloud their sense of self-preservation. Only one man came to mind.
Batano.
He was even on a friendly first name basis with the station's security chief. It was almost too perfect.
((()))
Choy sat on the edge of the landing platform, staring off into the distance. Beneath the green tinged sky, the dim light of "morning" was struggling to pierce the poisonous particulates. There was no wind beneath the invisible dome. It still felt unnatural to Choy, as if the dome was always on the cusp of a storm, the air felt dead and flat. Her shift started in an hour and she hadn't been able to sleep. With a project this massive, especially running in twelve hour shifts as they were, it was important to sleep and take downtime when it was available. Burning out might be disastrous.
3C-FD trundled over to Choy and beeped worriedly at her, fine grasper arm grabbing a corner of her coveralls, without pinching her.
[Sitting here is not safe] the utility droid beeped.
"I'm fine, Three-see. But keep a hold on me anyway," Choy chuckled.
The little droid's head rotated to look up at her, photoceptor studying her.
It made Choy feel bad. She scooted back until only her ankles were hanging over the edge of the platform, and the droid let go with relief, moving up next to her, sitting up on its wheels.
"How's Ef-ess doing?" Choy asked.
[Still recharging. The primary motivator will need to be serviced soon, or replaced] 3C-FD reported.
"I know… but the part won't arrive until next week," Choy sighed. FS-907 was an old droid. It had been old when it came into her possession. She'd rebuilt it after a mining accident, buying it at scrap value… because it had been. It performed very well for a droid with a second lease on life.
Secretly, Choy suspected the reason FS-907 was so diligent and earnest wasn't due to the simplicity of its verbobrain… but that it knew that she'd repaired it. The droid was fearless, except around binary load lifters (one of which had accidentally set a crate down upon it, crushing FS-907, resulting in Choy's purchase).
She hated how droids were treated, as if they were disposable. On the whole, most were simple automatons, those given frequent memory wipes to avoid "quirks." But some droids were capable of something close or identical to sentience, if given enough time to learn. They inhabited a grey area in the galaxy's morality. Considering how casually many droids were ill-spent in dangerous pursuits, Choy wasn't sure if it was actually kinder to keep such droids from self-awareness. Choy believed 3C-FD was sentient. She wasn't sure about FS-907.
"Sometimes I forget," a rough voice said quietly from behind Choy, interrupting her musings. The mechanic looked over her shoulder, spotting one of the mercenaries, a duros. She thought his name was Soran. He held a cup of steaming instant-caf, sipping at it gingerly, nose-less face wrinkled with fatigue. Several sections of the sonic dampers had failed along the camp perimeter last night from a power surge, forcing the mercs to run double patrols in the gaps while the engineers kept the power grid from frying.
Choy returned her gaze to the rolling plains, and the scattering of planted trees.
"Sometimes, the old bitch is beautiful," the merc said quietly, joining Choy's survey of the dome.
"Without the shield it'll all die," Choy pointed out sadly. The landscape was rocky, but she knew that was just from building rubble that had been only partially salvaged before loam and topsoil was poured over it, for planting the base layer of vegetation.
"For now. But one day there won't be shields, and my children, or their children will walk on Telos again," the duros replied, unruffled.
"It will take decades. Perhaps centuries," Choy said sadly.
"It's always easier to kill than mend," the mercenary chuckled.
"I know," Choy said.
((()))
Atton studied his pazaak cards, then glanced around the packed room. Luxa had picked a seedy, rundown gambling den in Module 81 for this meeting. Benok was handling security. The man was arrogant, but after a quick (and unobserved) check Atton had deemed the safeguards competent. He just wished it didn't smell so bad. Dozens of unwashed bodies in close proximity was a bit heady.
If Jana Lorso even suspected what they were doing, this entire situation would go to hell faster than a Hutt in freefall. Atton wished his pants weren't sticking to the chair he'd chosen. It had been the cleanest looking too.
"You aren't even trying," Luxa protested, her foot curling around his ankle.
"How much do I owe?" Atton asked casually, raising an eyebrow.
"Three thousand four hundred and ninety-seven credits," Luxa replied immediately.
"Roughly?" Atton challenged.
Luxa smiled, "Roughly." There was a gleam in her eye.
"I saved your life," Atton pointed out, as Luxa won the hand, and dragged the low denomination credits to her side of the table.
"And I saved yours," Luxa grinned, beginning the next round.
"No you didn't. You interrupted. Cutter was a dead devaronian walking," Atton replied, glancing at his cards with irritation, he shoved the rest of his credits into the pot.
"Then you should have been faster," Luxa smirked, matching his stake.
"I never rush," Atton said dismissively, laying down his cards. Luxa stared at his perfect 20.
"And I never miss," he smiled, but let the chill out a little. Let her feel it. He wasn't sure why.
Luxa's eyes dilated as she stared into his, studying him. She reached out a trembling hand, her warm fingers dancing across the parts of his fingers not covered by his gloves. She looked like she'd taken a hit of glitterstim.
"So sharp," she whispered.
Then Atton let the chill sink, to settle beneath his defenses, hidden once again.
"I feel ridiculous," a man announced gratingly, sitting in the vacant chair next to Atton. The man wore durable clothing, and had been burned at some point, leaving his face a shiny, melted mess. A vocabulator gleamed at his throat, hinting at vocal cord damage from inhaling superheated air.
"Why? It quite becomes you, Handsome," Luxa purred.
The man scowled (or tried to anyway), "It itches," he complained.
"Yes. It will also keep you from dying in your sleep," Luxa observed, sipping at her Altaran brandy.
"True," the man conceded, playing with the disguised voice scrambler at his throat. Atton held up his empty glass, staring imperiously at the droid wait-staff puttering around the room. He felt a sharp knife cut through his sinuses, and his inner ear started to tickle.
Benok had seen the signal. The gambling den's security systems and sensors had experienced an unfortunate glitch, flooding the den with supersonic aural feedback and static distortion. It was too high for most ears to perceive, but it would play hell with any recording equipment. A bulbous headed Bith started screaming, fleeing the room with bleeding ears.
It was more subtle than a sonic bubble, which simply screamed look at me, I have something to hide. Also, considering how run down this dive was, no one would think twice about such a malfunction.
The burn man accepted cards from Atton, and stared at the pot.
"I don't actually know how to play," the man admitted.
"Then fake it," Luxa sighed.
Atton went first, drew a card and flipped it onto the table, +3.
"I'm going to bury Jana Lorso," Luxa said, watching the burn man drop his card in surprise, a -2.
"How?" he asked.
"I found her actual finance report. She's been very naughty," Luxa smirked, but the look in her eyes was far from friendly. Predatory eyes.
"What do you want from me? Not that I don't enjoy our talks," the burn man said quickly.
"If I expose her, she'll turn Czerka's resources against us, and try to drag us down too. I want you to make your play when I expose her, fracture her power base," Luxa said, slowly running a finger down the spine of the card in her hand. The burn man followed her finger's sinuous movements.
He licked his lips, "What play?"
Luxa smiled condescendingly, but there was only winter in her eyes, "Oh Falt… don't play that game with me. You're ambitious, cowardly, intelligent, and very, very greedy. You haven't served as a footstool for two years to a woman like Jana Lorso because you don't have a choice. You have a plan."
Corrun Falt stared at his cards thoughtfully.
"I've helped you before, and you've helped me. Jana has soured relations with the Exchange. Imagine if you had closer ties instead. Everything would run so much… smoother, with you in charge," Luxa murmured.
The burn man slowly looked up from his cards, his temporarily ruined face tugging itself into a terrible smile, "I think we can come to an arrangement."
((()))
Choy wiped sweat off before it could drip from her eyebrow into her eye, cursing quietly whichever long-dead technician had used rivets instead of bolts to secure the access panel she was fighting in the cramped crawlspace. The rivets had been sloppy too, at angles.
A question for you, the shade whispered.
Choy lowered her fusion cutter slowly.
"Shouldn't you already know the answer?" Choy asked.
I touch your thoughts. Why do you assume I know your past? The shade countered.
Choy reached for the hydrospanner, "Ask," she sighed.
How did you endure your isolation? The shade wondered.
Choy blinked at the sudden blade pressed into her soul. It hurt.
Apologies, the shade winced.
"No. No I need to face this," Choy whispered.
She tried to turn and peer at the past twelve years. Twelve years of… emptiness.
Alone.
"I lied," Choy whispered, placing the hydrospanner down with trembling fingers before she damaged something important.
Another time then, the shade suggested.
"You misunderstand. I lied. It's how I endured," Choy breathed.
The shade was silent for several long heartbeats.
Interesting, the shade hissed with sudden realization.
"I lied. I pretended it didn't hurt, that this was all there was. That this was life and I had purpose. I buried everything and left the grave unmarked. I moved on by leaving everything behind," Choy choked, letting the lid off the box just a little.
That's it. Breathe, the shade encouraged.
It hurt.
Pain is a servant, a messenger. You are its master, do not be consumed by it, you are more than pain, you are above it, the shade advised.
There was too much, too much, too—!
Breathe, the shade snarled.
Choy snapped the lid shut inside her. Slowly vision returned as she gasped in the cold metal duct. She felt drained, sluggish, almost poisoned.
A frozen hand gently caressed her cheek.
You did well. That is perhaps enough for one day, the shade chuckled wryly.
((()))
The Mistress slowly walked among the narrow shelves that hived the massive room like the lattice of some strange insect. The hems of her spotless white robes stirred the curling vapors that clung to the floor in the cold. Each shelf bore tidy rows of data cards, each card containing the width and breadth of a single Jedi's life knowledge. There were millions of cards… but it was only a fraction of the library that had been lost when Ossus had been obliterated by the Sith. More had been lost when the Temple on Coruscant had been abandoned.
This vault was her legacy. Master Atris was the last of the Jedi… but from this seed, hope would sprout again. Light could return to the galaxy. The darkness would spread, then turn upon itself with nothing else to hunt or kill… when that happened night would turn to day with her coming.
"Mistress, you summoned us?" a figure, hidden in white whispered.
"I did," the Mistress said quietly. The massive chamber enforced silence, or at worst, hushed awe in its subjects. One did not shout here.
"We await your command," the Handmaidens bowed their heads.
"My sources tell me that the Telos fuel shipment is late, by nearly two weeks. This concerns me," Atris said.
"We will investigate," the first among the Handmaidens promised, bowing low.
Atris ran a hand along the row of wisdom beside her, troubled.
"It concerns me greatly," she whispered.
If this world fell the galaxy would follow.
((()))
Choy picked up the tiny seed from its place on her bedroll and studied it. The casing was four millimeters long, with a sharp point that tapered to a round base. It surface was an iridescent purple hue, similar to light reflected from spilt oil.
Good. Study the patterns on the shell, the shade instructed.
Choy memorized the patterns, shifting the seed in the light of her glowrod. 3C-FD sat nearby, recharging, its photoceptor dark. FS-907 curled nearby, similarly charging.
Do you feel the resistance against your fingers? Not unlike air bubbles trapped beneath ice? The shade whispered.
Choy closed her eyes, concentrating just on her finger tips. The seed was nearly weightless. There was no resistance, almost no sensation—
Here. Right here, the shade whispered, cold fingers threading through Choy's for a moment, forcing her fingers to move slightly and—
The song whispered within Choy's mind.
Just a few notes. Each note was brief, but sustained. Stable. Patient.
Then the pressure within Choy's hands faded as the shade slowly withdrew… but Choy could still hear the almost phantom chords, now that she knew what to listen for.
Although the Force does not speak to you, it's voice may be overheard, the shade whispered.
The seed suddenly floated above Choy's hand for a moment before landing in the valley of two fingers.
And once overheard its voice may be mimicked, to trick its servants into action, the shade sighed tiredly.
Choy contained her building excitement, barely. She could tell that the feeble action had cost the shade severely.
Rest. We will work more on this later, the shade promised.
((()))
Corrun Falt sat at his desk and listened to the poisoned honey drip from Jana Lorso's lips. Profits were down. They were always down. She sent him to fetch a cup of caf for her, and a foodstick from the restaurant she liked in Module 82. Falt simpered and groveled.
At 0836 station time a legal summons was sent via encrypted courier to Executive Officer Jana Lorso. At 0839 the summons was opened. At 0840… chaos erupted within the inner sanctum of one Jana Lorso.
"Falt! Get me that idiot from the Telosian Council, Tiris, bring him here!" Jana snarled, bursting from her office. Falt smiled and nodded, keying in the comlink code.
Tiris is in my pocket now. He won't interfere in Council Policy for you this time.
Her next step would be to lean on the Czerka Sector officer, Egan Piel, a long time associate of Lorso… who was inconveniently ill, she would find, but expected to make a full recovery soon.
Jana Lorso's fortress was powerful, but it rested on only a handful of pillars, mighty though they were.
The rapid communiqués continued for the rest of the morning, as Jana discovered that almost all (he hadn't had time to undermine everyone) of her supporters were unable to aid her. Falt drank in his superior's mounting panic, like a fine elixir left to steep for years, and reminisced on every indignity he'd suffered. Falt decided it had been worth the wait.
((()))
"Harra, is it?" the slightly distorted voice asked.
"Yes, this is Harra," the technician confirmed, warily. Only two people had this comlink frequency.
"Do you recall the… incident, from two weeks ago?" the voiced asked briskly.
"There were several incidents ma'am, to which are you referring?" Harra hedged.
There was a burst of static that might have been an irritated sigh. Harra wasn't sure.
"Harra, let me be blunt with you," the voice replied tersely.
"You value your job, correct?"
"Yes," Harra answered guardedly.
"And you work these hours to repay the debt that placed your fiancé in a rather… degrading, position, yes?"
"Yes," Harra growled.
"Excellent. I have a proposition. I will arrange for the debt you owe to be settled, in exchange for a favor. A shuttle will be arriving in twenty minutes, and when it does, I want you to clear it for landing. That's all," the voice told him.
Smuggling?
Harra only considered the ramifications for a moment. What was personal honor to him? Even if he was implicated or arrested Ramana would be free now. Not in five years… now.
"What's the shuttle's IFF-tag?" Harra asked.
((()))
Atris sat in meditation, trying to calm her mind, to pierce the veil of darkness that clung to the Force. She'd been attempting to meditate for the last six hours, without any progress. Something was muffling everything, blotting it out, or erasing future variables. She could barely discern the edges, but realized that the sensation wasn't new. She'd felt it for months, possibly years, simply not this acutely.
It was like staring out at space and not seeing a ship painted in black. While it was far away it was invisible, but as it neared it began to blot out stars, and became noticeable only by proximity.
It frightened Atris, although the emotion did not reach her. She held it at bay, calming the minor emotion into silence. There was only serenity here—
Which was broken by an unexpected whisper:
"Mistress, there is news."
Atris schooled her features before turning, keeping her glacial mask in place.
"Thank you, I will receive it now," she said, addressing the last of the Handmaidens.
The young woman bowed properly as she presented a comlink to her mistress. Atris sensed the fire rage across the woman's broken ribs, but it never showed in her face or posture. That was true discipline of the mind.
Atris activated the comlink, "You have news?"
The Third among the Handmaidens spoke quickly, and succinctly, "Peragus has been destroyed. The republic is conducting an investigation of the system, and attempting to secure another source of fuel for Citadel Station. I have copied their data files."
Atris' hand was trembling.
"Bring me everything you have. Bring it now," Atris whispered.
((()))
"What?" Luxa shouted, glaring at the comlink in her hand.
"A shuttle left half an hour ago. Jana Lorso arranged it under a false employee authorization code. I just found out," Corrun Falt explained patiently.
"Where is it bound?" Luxa asked, though from the sinking sensation in her gut she could guess. Corrun transmitted the telemetry to her data pad.
The red line terminated on Telos's surface, helpfully labeled as RZ-0031.
"She's going to destroy the evidence," Luxa snarled.
"She also kicked off a gundark-nest up here. Apparently, someone misfiled our private contractor payroll. The mercenaries are rioting in the employee-resource departments right now," Corrun continued grimly. Luxa could hear the occasional blaster retort crackle in the background of Corrun's transmission.
"That schutta," Luxa hissed, fingers dancing across her console.
"Can you handle this? I'm trapped here," Corrun asked flatly.
"Yes. Clean your mess, I'll clean this one," Luxa promised darkly.
((()))
Choy could hear screaming and the throaty hum of blaster fire.
"This is Verdan, what's happening?" Choy asked, but her comlink shrieked at her, signaling a powerful jamming field. Choy scowled and shoved the comlink back onto her belt. She grabbed the fusion cutter from her tool kit, and slung the kit across her shoulder by the strap.
3C-FD and FS-907 looked at her inquisitively from the open access panel they were working on.
"Stay behind me," Choy said quietly.
Choy walked quickly but quietly through the empty halls of the military base, towards the firefight. She passed several dead Czerka technicians, but she didn't recognize them. All had blaster wounds in the back. Near the entrance Choy found two dead mercenaries. She recognized them from Alpha shift's security detail. Their light armor was badly damaged from dozens of blaster impacts apiece. The multitude of blaster impacts on the walls hinted at overwhelming firepower unleashed in the area. Since neither man had unlimbered a weapon, Choy suspected it wasn't from a protracted firefight, but simply terrible aim and a large number of enemies.
Choy took their weapon belts, slinging them across her shoulder like a pair of baldrics. The holstered heavy blaster pistol and vibro-blade tapped against her ribs as she walked, new blaster carbine in hand. She selected semi-automatic.
The blaster fire was closer now.
Choy peeked out the open doors of the military base, at the landing pad. It was a war-zone.
Squads of old battle droids advanced among the tents of the expedition scattered across the two hundred meter wide circular landing platform. A shuttle was burning on the eastern end of the platform, hulled by heavy anti-air fire. One of its wings had detached and scythed through dozens of tents before crumpling at the base of the tower that had killed it. Choy spotted one of the AA laser towers swiveling, searching for additional targets in the sky. Its barrel wobbled as the tracking gyros and gears repeatedly seized from neglect.
Mercenaries and a few technicians were popping out of cover wherever they could find it, returning fire against the roving squads of droids. They needed to get off the platform. Choy spotted a pair of mercenaries thirty meters from her. One of the mercs had a light repeater rifle. A squad of droids was attempting to flank them, but the angle was difficult for the mercenaries to hit the droids, due to some supply crates in the way.
They needed that position. It was keeping the droids from simply sweeping across the platform. Choy sprinted from cover, to the right. She had her eye on a stack of crates that looked like solid cover. 3C-FD squealed in Choy's wake as a few droids noticed them and opened fire. Most of it was a meter wide of her, at least. Choy hit cover in a crouch, and popped around the side. She took a second to sight, exhaled and fired twice. Two battle droids from the squad flanking the merc light repeater fell. The droid squad split in half, one continuing to flank, the other charging at Choy, demonstrating standard combat tactics.
"Effess, blind them!" Choy snapped, switching to full automatic. FS-907 scuttled into the open and swept its fire suppression spray across the faces of the battle droids.
The droids scraped at their photoceptors, trying to regain target acquisition as they fired blindly. Choy stood and swept the four droids, stippling them at chest height with a burst from her carbine. Three fell, one staggered from a glancing hit. Choy finished that one with another blast to the chest.
Choy heard metal collide with tremendous force and snapped her head around. Bao-Dur vaulted a supply container, punching his mechanical arm through the chest of a second droid, using the stricken droid as a shield while he fired a blaster pistol at the surviving pair of droids. Choy whistled then ran towards the zabrak in a half crouch. Her droids followed at her whistle.
Choy arrived as the last droid from the flanking squad fell. The zabrak knocked the droid off his arm, ducking down behind the mercenary's cover as distant blaster fire sparked around his feet.
Choy joined him a moment later.
"We need to get off this platform," Bao-Dur said.
"Agreed, but we can't let the shield fail either," Choy panted.
One of the mercenaries crouch walked over to Choy, "Did you come out of the base?" he asked.
"Yes," Choy answered.
"Did you see Commander Fen?" the merc shouted to be heard over his comrade's light repeater blaster.
"No," Choy answered.
"Fierfeik," the merc sighed.
"What are your orders?" Bao-Dur asked, looking at Choy.
Choy blanched and the mercenary scowled at the zabrak, "I'm second in command."
"What are your orders, General?" the zabrak repeated, staring at Choy.
The question echoed inside Choy's skull, threatening to break something loose. Something she couldn't look at.
He knows who I was.
"Don't call me that," Choy whispered, stricken. Bao-Dur flinched in surprise, but nodded.
"We can fall back to the Ithorian camp," the zabrak offered, shifting gears.
"Felsyn's squad is with them," the mercenary without the repeater realized.
"Exactly. They also have food, medical supplies, and a spare transmitter," the zabrak agreed.
"We can use the speeders to escape if we follow the base of the cliff, and take out the western AA tower. The others will be blocked," the mercenary suggested.
"How? We don't have any heavy ordinance," the mercenary with the repeating blaster snarled.
"We can't leave," Choy whispered.
"It's ten kilometers to the Ithorian camp. We can make it on foot," the first merc pointed out, squeezing off a couple shots at distant battle droids. He hit one, but couldn't be sure how badly.
"Easy for you," the merc with the light repeater grunted, tapping his knuckles against his battle-armor. It looked heavy. It also looked effective, since the man had carbon scoring from recent impacts.
"Shut up. Alright, we break for the edge," the mercenary leader decided.
"We need to give the others time to fall back to us," the mercenary with the repeater protested.
"We can't leave," Choy repeated, louder. The merc in light armor sneered at her, but Bao-Dur looked at her thoughtfully.
"I wasn't finished with repairs on level five. If the generator surges, we'll lose the shield," Choy explained.
Both mercs scowled, glaring up at the field that kept the poisonous atmosphere at bay. They were trapped…
"We can't stay out here though," the lightly armored merc growled.
"No. You can't," Choy agreed, glancing back at the open entrance to the telosian military base.
"That's crazy," the merc leader said flatly, "You don't have any armor."
"Don't worry about it," Bao-Dur said, "just cover us before you retreat to the Ithorian camp,"
The leader merc chewed his lip for a second.
"Shit. Go."
The zabrak nodded, "Choy, give me a five second lead."
Choy nodded slowly.
A circular plane of nearly invisible energy a meter in diameter erupted from the zabrak's mechanical arm and he broke from cover, drawing fire.
Choy counted quietly. She could see the big zabrak sprinting across the battlefield, head tucked low. Blaster fire slapped impotently against his shield. A few bolts slipped past his exposed knees. Then she started running, her droids in close pursuit.
((()))
"What can you tell me, Grenn?" Admiral Onasi asked, scratching at the stubble on his jaw blearily. He needed to shave again.
"Riots all over the station, most are centered in the entertainment modules, some are in the industrial sectors too. Armed riots. The emergency response teams are overwhelmed by the quantity, and the standard security troopers aren't properly equipped to deal with masses of well armed hostiles in heavy battle armor. There's also a lot of civilians trapped in the combat areas," Grenn said, his dour face tight with tension.
"You have to watch your fire. They don't," Carth finished grimly.
Grenn nodded angrily.
"I'm deploying the marine detachment from Sojurn, but that's only sixty men," Carth warned.
"Any of them vets?" Grenn asked hopefully.
"The sergeants," Carth shrugged.
"And egalitarianism bites us in the ass," Grenn growled. Carth hadn't hand picked the crew of his flagship. He hadn't hoarded talent like some admirals had.
"I'm also sending my aide," Carth smiled sharply.
"These are rough men. Waving a datapad at them won't—" Grenn began to grunt until he saw how pointed Carth's smile was… which made him smile slightly too.
"What was he?" Grenn asked.
"Commando, for both sides," Admiral Onasi smiled darkly.
Grenn's eyebrows lifted slightly, as animated as the man's face ever became.
Disloyalty was tantamount to the ultimate evil where Carth was concerned. For him to have someone like that as an aide…
Carth issued orders, and didn't miss the gleam in Jordo's eye.
Sixty-one men wouldn't make a terrible difference, but it had to be done regardless. Besides, every life saved would be a victory… to those who had been saved.
Carth cut transmission with Citadel Station, and turned to Captain Dross, "Any luck with Jolee?"
The dour captain shook his head curtly, "The Ebon Hawk is still listed as berthed, but there's been no response to our transmissions."
Carth nodded tiredly, "His comlink's probably off again, but he's also probably elbow deep in the situation already."
I hope.
((()))
"I can't raise base camp, we're being jammed," Gerson said, his voice clipped.
Felsyn scowled, looking into the distance. He could see a column of black smoke rising, pooling against the ceiling of the dome.
[Sergeant, the sonic emitters will be sufficient to protect us from predators. Please, use the speeders to return and render aid] Chodo Habat rumbled, his voice overlaid by the vocodor's translation around his neck.
"No," Felsyn decided, "There's nearly two hundred mercs and techs at base camp. If they couldn't handle it, throwing another squad into the mix won't help."
[Whatever the accident is, assistance will never go astray] Chodo answered.
"Respectfully, I don't think that's an accident. It looks like an attack," Felsyn said grimly.
"Damage to the comm. tower might mimic a jamming field, but there would be intermittent power surges," a technician said, standing by Gerson, studying the readout, pointing at the display.
"Jennai's right, sir. I'm not seeing any fluctuations," Gerson confirmed.
[Sergeant, we cannot simply stand by] Chodo protested.
"We won't be. Basak, Krun. Take enough supplies for a day in the field, I want you to recce base camp. Only approach close enough to determine status, then return. Don't transmit, but monitor local comm. frequencies," Felsyn said. The two mercenaries he'd indicated nodded, gathering supplies quickly, shedding the bulkier plastoid armor plates, down to the reinforced undersuits. They had the most experience for this situation. Basak (a trandoshan) had "retired" from the slave trade and Krun (a man in his late thirties) was used to avoiding customs patrols. They shouldn't have too much trouble with local predators either…
"The rest of you, we're breaking camp!" Felsyn shouted.
[The plants aren't ready yet. They cannot be moved] Chodo protested.
"This camp is an easy target. There's no concealment here," Felsyn said flatly, lazily encompassing the plains with one hand.
"That cliff face has several overhangs, and a small cave system," Gerson said, pointing to the cliffs that bordered the plains, a kilometer away.
"Perfect," Felsyn said sardonically. He didn't mention what Gerson and Jennai might have been using the caves for.
((()))
"How qualified are you?" an Exchange thug with a crookedly healed nose asked Atton nervously.
"Relax. I flew the Peragus field," Atton snickered, as he checked over the flight systems of the ministry-class shuttle.
"Just keep those gammoreans from cutting holes in the hull, and we'll be fine," the rogue shrugged. There were only a handful of the bulky porcine humanoids, but a handful could seem like a crowd with hardly any effort. The bent nosed thug stared a little longer before buckling into the co-pilot station.
"Glit-seven, this is Glit-eight, I have two engines hot, ready to fly," Atton transmitted.
"Glit-eight, I read. Engines are green here too," the second shuttle responded.
The hastily mustered group of Exchange beaters huddled in the backs of the shuttles, basically anyone Luxa could lay hands on with short notice had found themselves on the shuttles.
"Glit-seven, follow my wing," Atton said, goosing the thrusters.
"Sure," Glit-seven chuckled, "I'll let you check for mines."
"Much appreciated," Atton growled, waiting until he was clear of Citadel Station's shadow before opening up the shuttle's drives, accelerating away from the second shuttle. The enemy had a fifty minute lead up on them.
((()))
"I'm securing the doors," Choy said. Bao-Dur nodded, keeping watch with Choy's carbine.
"Maybe lock all the droids outside," the technician grunted.
"I doubt we're that lucky," Choy replied.
The blast doors to the base groaned and closed. Choy cut two more relays, just in case, to keep the doors from being opened by remote override.
"I'll head to the power distribution center. You finish your repairs," Bao-Dur said, pulling his Remote from the pouch on his belt. The sphere beeped softly before lifting out of his palm, repulsorlifts active.
"Be careful," Choy whispered, drawing the heavy blaster from her new baldric.
"You too—" Bao-Dur said, before biting off the last word, averting his eyes. General.
3C-FD and FS-907 looked up at Choy, she could almost feel their mechanical concern. It was like Peragus all over again.
Choy flicked her blaster off safety, then broke into a quiet jog. After a moment she looked back at FS-907 and shrugged, breaking into a full run, since the clatter of the fire suppression droid's legs on the deck was louder than anything she made. I need to resurface his feet again, Choy thought, making a mental note. She'd been meaning to get to it, but...
Choy rounded the corner to the emergency maintenance access hatch and straight into a battle droid. She raised her hand instinctively to cushion her face with it, as she bowled into the bipedal droid. They both crashed to the ground. Choy's hand hurt, as did her gut, and left knee. Droids were hard.
Choy's other hand fired the heavy blaster into the struggling droid. The droid's thrashing knocked the blaster from Choy's hand leaving her fingers numb from the impact. A blaster bolt snarled past her head before impacting into the wall behind her. Choy threw herself free of the droid she was entangled in, head desperately rising to look down the hall. Two more battle droids advanced clumsily with their ill-maintained servos, trying to aim their rifles. Fine motor control was always the first to go for droids.
Choy spotted her blaster two meters away, out in the open. The fallen droid was closer, but their model's weapons tended to be directly linked and lacking an actual trigger.
Metal cascaded, nearly deafening Choy as FS-907 charged past her down the corridor.
"Efess!" Choy shouted, "Stop!"
For once, the droid didn't listen. 3C-FD whirred past as well, body hunched low on its wheels, following FS-907. FS-907 activated its fire suppression, blinding the two droids it was charging.
Choy lunged for her fallen blaster on scraped knees.
There was a crash of metal as FS-907 slammed into the shins of the lead droid, low center of mass easily trumping the bipedal droid's balance. The second battle droid pointed its blaster roughly at the noise before 3C-FD squealed in terror, lowering its coin shaped head, and colliding with its target.
Choy sprinted down the corridor, flinching from a couple of blindly fired blaster bolts, before surgically pumping a bolt into both battle droids power supplies.
3C-FD was making distressed noises, trying to raise its head back up.
"Threesee, stop. You've damaged that servo, and bent the retaining arm," Choy snapped. Reluctantly the utility droid stared at the deck.
FS-907 was no worse for the wear, but it was a much sturdier model.
"Damn it, you two aren't combat models!" Choy snarled, manually pulling 3C-FD's head up, then spot welding it in place. She'd have to fix it later, but at least the droid could look around now (if not down or up).
[You were in danger] 3C-FD protested.
"Not that much danger," Choy argued.
[Without you we are things again. They will make us forget] 3C-FD said quietly.
Choy froze, staring at the utility droid.
[We must keep you safe]
The bleakness of the droid's statement threatened to tip her back into—
You have a task. Complete it first, the shade hissed in Choy's mind.
Right. Choy centered herself. She would deal with this later.
((()))
Atton angled the shuttle down towards the vast bubble formed by the restoration zone's shield. He should have been pinged by a traffic controller by now—
Terror suddenly cramped Atton's gut, and the man instinctively slewed the shuttle into a starboard yaw, kicking down hard on his etheric rudder. Green laser fire flashed past his view port a split second later. He didn't have any readings with the zone's shield up.
"Break off!" Broken Nose yelped, clutching his restraints.
No time. They were traveling too quickly. He could have tried to pull away, but not in atmosphere, not at this speed. The drag would rip the wings off the shuttle. So instead he pointed the nose down, dropping another three hundred meters. This also killed some of their forward momentum as the atmosphere caught the edges of the shuttle's wings. The next quartet of bolts slashed through the air a few meters ahead of the shuttle's nose, missing again.
Atton had seen where the bolts came from this time. AA tower of some kind, looks like the base. In the split second he processed this his hand was already moving, activating the braking thrusters, and deployed the landing gear, which forced the wings to start rising into their landed position as they pierced the shield.
If he tried to power his away through he would give the AA gun a perfect shot of his belly on the way past, and simply altering his vector and speed wouldn't be enough to throw off the automated targeting. The only solution was get out of the air. So Atton did that.
Atton fired all of his braking thrusters, feeling the restraints cut into his chest from the viciously high-gee maneuver (even with the inertial compensator at maximum)
He had a split second view of watching Glit-Seven try to escape, as he bounced across a grassy plain towards a stand of trees there was an explosion in the distance and a swiftly dying star marked the death of the second shuttle.
"Brace!" Atton wheezed. The trees looked awfully close, and very thick for mere saplings. Then the shuttle lost its wings. Atton wasn't aware of much after that.
((()))
Luxa crouched at her computer station, marshalling a few "assets." The riot was threatening to spill over onto properties owned by the Exchange. Very lucrative businesses. She was missing most of her heavies. Luxa missed her gammoreans. They were dumb, but so were most mercs. They were also big enough that most mercs understood to go looting in the other direction.
The door chimed and Luxa angrily glanced at the security camera. Benok.
"What do you want?" Luxa demanded.
Benok fired his blaster at something beyond the camera's feed.
"The riot is moving this way. You need to move," he said. She could hear the excitement in his voice.
It wasn't every day he had the chance to flaunt his skills.
"Can you give me four minutes to finish tasking these idiots?" Luxa asked.
Benok smiled up into the camera, his face transformed into something almost human.
"I'll give you six," he promised.
A pity that he was only like this when he killed. She might have taken him to bed more often otherwise.
Luxa finished sending orders and grabbed the Negotiator on the way to her door.
((()))
"Hey, idiot, wake up," someone grunted, unkindly smacking Atton's aching face.
Blearily the rogue cracked an eyelid.
"I hate Telos," he whispered.
"So much for ace pilot," Broken nose sneered, releasing his restraints stiffly.
"Hey, we're still alive, right?" Atton demanded, his jaw throbbing.
"And the other shuttle isn't. It's why I didn't shoot you," Broken Nose confided, dragging himself towards the back of the cockpit.
"You're welcome," Atton muttered, loosening the blaster in his holster.
Broken Nose got everyone able to stand off the shuttle (although the ramp jammed half-way down, forcing the gamorreans to squeeze a little).
"Sorry boys, but we've got to run," Broken Nose sighed, staring off at the base in the distance.
"We were never here, and Luxa's gonna skin us if we let those mercs trash the evidence," Broken Nose grunted, breaking into a painful trot. Nineteen pairs of feet followed reluctantly.
((()))
Luxa slipped on a light weight jacket of gold threads, more to conceal her weapons from security scanners than for modesty, which it failed at due to the many sections that apparently didn't need coverage. Personally, she didn't think the danger was that serious. The door to her apartment was reinforced, it would take someone with either a lot of patience and a fusion cutter, or several kilograms of baradium to bypass it. Not to mention the concealed disruptor pistol disguised as an out-of-date security camera, or the sonic blaster mounted three centimeters below the call-plate.
She activated the door and looked out cautiously. Benok was crouched in the scant cover her recessed door offered. She could smell ozone and burnt synthetics, spotting a few blaster scores on Benok's jacket and legs.
He felt vibrantly alive. A primitive knife-edge joy for the hunt.
"Where's the fall back?" Luxa asked, smiling slightly at him. If he was still like this in an hour or two… she might bring him to bed. This mood of his usually didn't last long.
He was a safe enough dalliance, completely loyal because he was exactly where he wanted to be.
Completely—
Luxa's eyes widened and she lunged forward and to the left, barely ahead of the blaster bolt that creased her ribs. Benok's eyes widened slightly as she rose inside his arms, her head cracking painfully against his chin. He was bigger than her. She shoved her stun baton up under his armored jacket and felt her hair briefly leap up as some of the discharge leaked through the brief contact to her.
Benok was much less fortunate.
Slusk… Luxa glared at the fallen man.
It seemed some house cleaning was in order. Most of her heavies were on Telos, or wrapped up in the riot. That was fine. Luxa reached into her jacket, finding the small encrypted comlink easily. Her ribs were starting to throb from the blaster graze.
"Sidik. I have a job for you…"
((()))
"Bao-Dur, I've finished on level five. The power grid is intact again," Choy reported, standing at the corner of the hallway, watching for combat droids.
"Meet me in power distribution, I think we might have a problem here," Bao-Dur responded tersely. Choy frowned, and glanced at 3C and FS. The easiest path to power distribution was the maintenance access, but it used ladders and tight crawl spaces… something neither droid could safely traverse.
She knelt down in front of 3C-FD and carefully rubbed a spot of grease off its photoceptor with her sleeve.
"I need you to stay here, okay?" she whispered.
[We will keep you safe] 3C-FD moaned in protest.
"I'll be safer in the maintenance access then out in the corridors. Even with you two to protect me," Choy pointed out gently. She pulled a spare comlink from her belt and held it out. Reluctantly 3C-FD took the device from her with its fine grasper arm.
"Find a safe place and hide. I'll contact you when it's safe," Choy promised.
Once the droids had hidden in a nearby storage supply room Choy began her long crawl through the ducts, glow rod clamped in her teeth.
((()))
Atton was near the middle of the mob, ahead of the nine heavily puffing gammoreans, (their crude looking axes shoved through loops on their belts), but behind Broken Nose, and a trandoshan. Two other men with combat vests and heavy blasters were ahead of him as well. Five rodians in a mix of jumpsuits and light armor were spread out a little around Atton (which is why he was here, right in the middle). Safest place to be…
They'd been running for about fifteen minutes when Broken Nose called a "break" (which meant they simply slowed to a walk). The pace would have been ruinous for actual soldiers in the field, weighed down with heavy plastoid armor and provisions. For lightly-armored thugs with slightly illegal (but easily concealable or deniable) weapons it was manageable, even with sprains and light injuries.
Didn't mean Broken Nose was going to be popular any time soon, or able to sleep soundly. However, Atton could now make out what was burning on the landing pad in the not distant enough distance. A shuttle had been destroyed on the pad… and it looked like the AA guns were still moving, possibly even tracking. There was abundant cover from the multitude of short "hills" with grass and saplings sticking out of them, making the group hard to target at a distance.
"Cannock," the trandoshan called, nostrils flaring. Irritated, the group slowed down and let the gammoreans proceed with axes in hand. Predictably, the cannocks erupted from their hiding places among the short hills, zeroing in on the gammoreans eagerly.
Atton guessed the gammoreans smelled very tasty.
None of the thugs wasted energy shooting at the cannocks this time, the axes were more than adequate to deal with the dozen half-meter tall scavenger/predators. Two of the gammoreans squealed in battle rage though from a few additional bite marks they'd earned. Just more scars to brag about, Atton decided.
Then the group reluctantly resumed its forced hike at Broken Nose's urging.
((()))
Luxa crouched behind her overturned sleep couch in the apartment's tiny communal room. She lifted a borrowed comlink to her lips and selected one of its presets.
"This is Luxa. I need reinforcements," she transmitted. Benok lay nearby. Apparently he'd taken a heavy blaster bolt to the chest at close range, possibly during the barrage of blaster bolts that had somehow blasted all of her security cameras. Terribly sloppy of him all around.
[Luxa? Where's Benok?] Matu asked, Benok's most loyal underling.
"Bleeding on my carpet. The rioters have us pinned down, and I don't have a medpac," Luxa responded, shooting Benok's blaster one handed out her front door several times, startling a looter across the way into dropping his end of a sleep couch and diving for cover.
[I'll get Nahata and a few more of our boys], Matu promised.
Perfect. That would probably thin out most of the protection detail Slusk had remaining… leaving just a few battle droids and receptionists for Sidik.
Matu was incredibly loyal… and impulsive. This was countered by his proficiency with knives of all kinds and small blasters.
Luxa studied Benok's laboriously rising chest thoughtfully. She was ambivalent about his survival. He'd tried to kill her, yes, but he was a professional. He carried out his orders.
((()))
Choy had to use her fusion cutter on the access hatch, it had been spot welded at some point in the past. She poked her head out to check for droids before scrambling for the pitted doors to power distribution, banging her knee along the way.
"Bao-Dur. I'm here," she whispered, her comlink on minimal power.
Choy felt the security locks release beneath her hand, and the door reacted to her proximity, rolling open.
The muscular technician was seated at a console, his stern features wrinkled in a frown as he stared at the terminal screen. Choy secured the door behind her and joined her boss.
"What's wrong?" Choy asked.
"The computer," Bao-Dur replied thoughtfully.
Choy waited patiently.
"It's subverting my commands," the tech clarified.
Choy frowned, "Was there a slicer-attack?"
"No… but these algorithms seem familiar," Bao-Dur said, sparring with his digital adversary.
"The computer accepts my credentials and authority… but it keeps flagging almost everything I do as an illegal modification, and keeps notifying me of unauthorized user access," Bao-Dur grunted.
"What do you need me to do?" Choy asked.
"I want you to run a physical trace on the console while I'm working," Bao-Dur said, pointing his chin at his tool kit that was spread out on the terminal next to him, "Maybe we can find whoever is slicing the system registries…"
Choy nodded, quickly grabbing a network router and splicer cables from the battered tool kit. She removed the housing on the back of Bao-Dur's console, studying the nest of wires and circuit boards for a minute before getting started.
"Tell me when you're ready," Bao-Dur said.
"Almost," Choy answered, squinting through the wires and the shadows they cast from her glowrod as she wormed a hand with a splicer cable deeper into the housing. She slipped the probes into the correct ports with just the tips of her fingers, arm at full extension. The mechanic glanced at the screen of Bao-Dur's network tool.
"Ready," she reported.
"Initiating command authorization query," Bao-Dur announced. He submitted his credentials, to be verified by the computer as legitimate or false.
Choy watched the tool trace the data packet through the command pathways. It arrived at the cz99UH7 computer Czerka had installed to oversee the military base, and the shield generator complex. Then the data packet was returned… with two messages from two different sources.
Authorized and unauthorized.
"Bao-Dur… I traced the query, but it came back with two answers," Choy reported, studying the system tags of the answers.
"The authorized answer is coming from the main computer," Choy continued.
"I'll send the query again, try and back-trace the second answer," Bao-Dur replied.
Choy waited as the tool churned its way back through the tortuous pathways of security clearance and data storage. The tool chimed as it pulled up the search report.
"Answer originated from Ar-em-four-four-seven-six-two." Choy reported.
Bao-Dur grunted, "Let me see where that computer is—" the technician cut off suddenly. Choy popped up from behind the console, worried, but saw that the other tech was staring in surprise at his screen. Choy leaned over and read the screen upside down:
QUERY REQUIRES MILITARY CLEARANCE OF LEVEL THREE OR HIGHER. SUBMIT ACCESS CODE:
Choy's face tightened.
"Surely not… surely they didn't…" Bao-Dur whispered with mounting dread.
Hesitantly he tapped a code into the computer. The screen blanked for a moment.
COMBAT TECHNICIAN THIRD CLASS BAO-DUR: AUTHORIZED.
"Those… greedy, stupid bastards," Bao-Dur snarled, as he investigated his new access.
"What is it?" Choy asked, guessing the answer but wanting confirmation.
"When they installed their computer, they tied it into the existing network, but didn't wipe the military software and replace it with the civilian versions," Bao-Dur snapped.
Probably due to time and costs, Choy thought grimly.
"But wouldn't a military computer reject civilian code commands?" Choy asked, confused.
"Normally, yes, but it looks like they created a software patch to fix the glitch," Bao-Dur growled, nose close to the screen, reading.
Choy was pretty sure she wasn't going to like the full explanation.
Bao-Dur slammed his mechanical fist down on the desk next to him, denting the metal sharply down, staring at his trembling flesh hand.
"I could have fixed this shield in two weeks."
Choy frowned, "What do you mean?"
"The power surges? The random fluctuations? The computer thought it was countering enemy saboteurs. Our repairs and modifications were all signed off with our access credentials. The czerka patch alters the priority flags, ranking our commands as higher priority than the military computer commands, and purges the queued command list after every cycle. That's why whenever we got ahead something else would go wrong. We weren't issuing commands, which let the military computer put its own commands into action, to counter our sabotage, trying to restore the systems to their military specs…" Bao-Dur trailed off kneading his forehead.
"But… where did the droids come from? If there was a droid barracks that the survey team missed, why didn't the computer send them out before now?" Choy asked.
Bao-Dur hesitated, his dark eyes flickering across the terminal as he searched for answers. After a few minutes of red flashing screens the zabrak shook his head.
"I don't have the security clearance."
He raised his eyes to meet Choy's slowly.
"Do you remember your command code?"
His voice was soft, but drowned out easily by the thunder in her ears.
Anger. Cold, vicious anger. No. Hatred. Yes. Hatred. Finely focused, not towards her, towards—
—Enough. Let him be, you have burdens enough to carry, the shade said sharply, snapping her away from Bao-Dur's amber eyes. Shaken, the woman caught her balance on the console.
"Choy, are you alright?" Bao-Dur asked quietly.
She couldn't match his soft voice to the feelings in his head…
So she ignored them.
"I'm fine," she lied.
"Do you remember your pass code?" Bao-Dur repeated.
Choy slowly straightened up, "Yes… yes I think so."
Bao-Dur gave up his seat, and Choy settled onto the pre-warmed plastic and metal, fingers poised over the interface, hesitating.
I am with you, the shade promised, and so is he.
Choy scowled and forced her fingers to move. A moment later the computer screen changed.
GENERAL MEETRA SURIK: AUTHORIZED
A hole opened beneath Choy's sternum, reading those words. Pain scrabbled across her mind, searching for a handhold.
Enough— the shade barked sternly, and the hole closed.
Thank you, Choy whispered.
You are welcome, the shade replied.
Bao-Dur retook the seat, tapping at the interface quickly.
((()))
Atris studied the initial reports the republic had compiled. A republic cruiser, the Harbinger, had been boarded and seized by an unknown number of equally unknown combatants. All hands lost, the ship had opened fire on a light freighter, the Ebon Hawk, which had ignited the Peragus asteroid field, resulting in the destruction of Peragus. She knew that ship, and who currently piloted it. Jolee Bindo… an excommunicated padawan, who had aided Revan in what many called the Jedi civil war. Heretic was a harsh brush, but its strokes easily applied to Jolee Bindo. Every "Jedi" associated with that ship had either died or lost their way… or outright turned to the dark side.
She continued to study the "classified" reports. She found a flagged recording. The format looked like it had been lifted directly from a droid's memory core. Intrigued, Atris opened the file.
She was staring at… what looked like a medical facility of some kind. Instruments of healing were arranged on a nearby table next to a surgical bed. An old human male in republic uniform wandered through the video, studying his tools before moving to the nearby terminal. The video was bobbing slightly, giving Atris a slight headache. She saw a wall of drawers in the wall to the right of the video. One of them slid open. The old man turned, puzzled, and began to walk over to the drawer.
Something sat up in the drawer. Atris felt a chill, to see a body so desecrated and damaged, yet mobile.
"How—?"
The old man's words were cut off as the corpse turned sightless eyes on the man… and he rose several centimeters into the air, clutching at his neck.
"Where is the Jedi?" the corpse grated, slowly standing up.
The old man started screaming, his head moving strangely. Then the head simply exploded in a mist of bone, blood, and viscera. The headless corpse was flung negligently and hit the camera. A thunderous clang made Atris flinch, no doubt the droid being smashed to the deck beneath the dead man. The rest was muffled, she could hear the corpse speak, but couldn't determine the words, heard more screaming… there was another crash… and then silence. Atris raised a hand to move to the next file but noticed that there was still three minutes remaining on the recording, so stayed her hand. She waited, considering what she had seen.
The corpse… it was a Sith of some kind. She had heard of Force Ghosts that fought the will of the Force, remaining in the universe after their death… but nothing like this. It looked similar to some of the horrors Exar Kun and his Sith Alchemy had unleashed on the republic… but not quite. Those abominations had lacked the autonomy to make decisions... no. This was something new (or else so old it had been forgotten).
Cloth rustled against the droid's microphones, like a quiet thunder. The darkness gave way to dusky red lighting. A woman crouched over the camera, her face twisted with sadness and pity as she reached down towards the camera.
"Freeze!" Atris barked, halting the recording. She stared into those gentle eyes, the hand of kindness extended. She felt a stab within her heart, but ignored the sensation.
Her.
Atris fumbled the comlink from a voluminous sleeve.
"Find her. Bring her to me," Atris commanded, face bloodless.