Ashes of Time

by FallenAscendant

The Jedi took his life away, the Sith forced him into another but it was the Empire that gave him purpose. Glailen Reichscher learned that the galaxy is a place of many threats and little mercy. Now he's resolved to become the deadliest of those threats and never be at the mercy of another ever again. But would he live long enough for it to make a difference?

6. Chapter Five: Black Talon

Chapter Five: Black Talon

Once off Korriban and, more importantly, away from the Sith Academy, Vette had assumed she would be more comfortable with her surroundings. That proved to be only marginally true. Vaiken Spacedock was little better from the academy as it too was overrun with Sith and Imperials. Crazy as it sounded, the bounty hunters, of which it seemed one in twenty people appeared to be, made Vette feel like she was less out of place. Of course, bounty hunters were not welcoming and, given that Vette was a twi'lek, nor were Sith and Imperials. Much like on Korriban, Vette followed closely to Glailen in order to avoid any confrontations.

The spacedock was not crowded but it was certainly busy as Glailen led them through the station in search of their transport. A protocol droid had offered decent directions but was too busy to direct them itself. Everyone appeared busy but apparently not so busy that half of them couldn't spare her a disapproving frown. Bounty hunters were tolerated for the specific services they provided the Empire but Vette knew she didn't have the look of one and that was enough for everyone else to assume she was a slave. It grated on her, made all the worse because they were technically right. Well, if I'm going to be hanging around Glailen for a while then I'll have plenty of time to get used to being surrounded by speciest slime all day. The thought did nothing to improve Vette's mood as her eyes shifted around. Passing an open door, Vette stared inside and locked on the sight at the end of the hall. She knew a cantina when she saw one and she could see one quite clearly, so close. She didn't care that it would be full of drunk Imperials, bounty hunters and maybe even some Sith; she would kill for a drink right now. But as quickly as it came into view it was gone as the pair continued on their path. Glailen hadn't slowed, likely hadn't seen the cantina or simply not cared. It took all of Vette's will to keep from slipping back and venturing into the den of alcoholic beverages.

It was some time before they came upon what Vette presumed was the right hanger but the door was closed. A nimodean was standing nearby, his clothes marked him as part of the Imperial Navy. One of the oddest things for Vette to see continued to be seeing someone other than a human in an Imperial uniform. That was like kissing the hand that hit you. But if one couldn't beat them then there was one alternative and the Republic, for all their moral high ground, had failed to beat the Empire. Though he was focused on his holopad, the nimodean looked up at their approach.

"You must be Darth Baras' apprentice."

"That's right," said Glailen, who apparently had no trouble accepting that everyone knew who he was on sight. Vette shook her head while looking around; it was creepy, like having eyes watching you everywhere.

"It's good that you have arrived but we are not quite ready to launch. There is refueling and some maintenance to be done but we should be good to go in an hour or two, my Lord." Hearing those words dealt a serious blow to Vette's spirits. The thought of being stuck on this station, surrounded by the best of the Empire, for a couple of hours filled her with anxiety. Her nerves needed help.

"Very well. Thank you," responded Glailen, turning away to face Vette. The nimodean immediately went back to whatever he was working on. Glailen offered a shrug as he shared a look with Vette.

"I guess we have some time to ourselves then. There must be something we can do on this station."

"Like get a drink?" The words were out of her mouth before she realized she would say them but Vette had no regrets. As far as she was concerned, there was no reason they couldn't. Glailen cocked an eyebrow at her, apparently not feeling as certain as she.

"Look, it's been a long day and I could use a real drink. Since we have time to kill, why not?" If Vette sounded a little pleading, then that was obviously because she was tired and no one should look any further into it. Glailen only considered for a moment before nodding.

"All right but it could be difficult finding a place to drink here."

"Not so hard. I saw a cantina on our way here." Was that a smirk Vette caught on Glailen's face? It was gone too fast to tell as he waved a hand back the way they'd came.

"Okay, lead the way." Lead Vette did and with enthusiasm. It was Glailen's turn to make an effort at keeping pace as Vette was feeling her first real motivation to be somewhere since getting caught in the tomb.

Retracing their steps was an easy thing but the walk was not without some unease. All of which stemmed from the looks directed Vette's way but these stares were different from the ones she was used to. There was surprise – shock even – anger, a different variety of disgust; it all made Vette decidedly uncomfortable, especially since she wasn't sure why everyone they passed looked at her like that. Then it hit her. She was leading Glailen around. It wasn't the normal sight of a Sith going about his business with his slave in tow, it was the other way round and people didn't know what to think but they knew they didn't like what they saw.

They can keep on thinking what they'd like. Defiantly Vette strode through the halls and kept her eyes straight. She wouldn't let anyone get to her. Besides, she had somewhere important to be and before long she found the hallway she was looking for. There, at the end, was the cantina and Vette had to stop herself from running the rest of the way.

Once inside she took a look around. It was quieter than what she was used to and darker too. None of that was important though, only the bar that stood at the center of the room. Glailen moved up beside her.

"Pleasant place."

"Yeah; if you've been to one then you've been to them all. Except the ones on Nar Shadaa – those are in a league of their own." Glailen merely grunted in response. He probably had no experience of his own and simply accepted what Vette had to say. They descended a short flight of stairs and moved to the center of the floor. Glailen put a hand out to stay her as he kept moving towards the bar.

"I'll grab the drinks; you can look for a place to sit." Vette considered arguing but decided not to. Anything Glailen brought back was good enough at the moment.

"Sure thing," she said absently though Glailen was already too far away to hear. Vette looked to her right and then to her left. She made a slow circle, eyes scanning the room, and groaned with annoyance. The place was packed but it wasn't so empty as for she and Glailen to sit at a table where other patrons wouldn't be able to listen in on their conversation. There were mostly Imperials sitting around – a few Sith could be seen easily by the wide berth everyone gave them – and it was the Imperials she was least interested in being nearby.

Dummy. What did you expect to find in a cantina on an Imperial space station? Of course, Vette hadn't fooled herself into thinking the cantina would be relatively empty but she had convinced herself she wouldn't be bothered by anyone around her. She pretended to keep an eye on Glailen but out of the corner of her eyes she was watching those sitting nearby. It was easy to see them watching her because they did so openly and they did nothing to hide the comments they were making to each other. Vette was too far away to hear them but she didn't need to because she had heard it all before. They would make some spiciest remark about her drinking in the same place as them and then they would start making suggestions. Ones related to what the enslaved women of her species were well known for in such establishments. Finally, after they had a little more alcohol in them, they would turn to her with those leering eyes and–

Vette shuddered. No, she absolutely did not want to sit near a bunch of drunk Imperials. She folded her arms and kept from fidgeting though she was painfully aware of how exposed she was. All around she could feel eyes on her – of course they were watching her, she was one of the few people not sitting and she was standing in the center of the most open space in the room. For everyone else, she didn't belong and so their eyes were drawn to her. The more she thought about it the more she wanted to turn and leave or scream or…or pull out her blasters and start shooting everyone and everything!

"You're drink?" With a start Vette opened eyes she hadn't realized were closed and found Glailen standing in front of her, holding out a glass. Hastily she searched for something to say to cover up her surprise.

"You know, we're probably going to spend the entire flight on our butts. Why not stretch our legs a bit longer?" Vette snapped her jaw shut and struggled to appear at ease. That wasn't how she felt inside though. It was a terrible excuse to give after they'd spent all day walking around through sand and in caves. She simply couldn't come up with anything else right away.

"If you'd like." Then Glailen mercifully, without missing a beat, agreed without any arguing. Vette hid her sigh of relief by taking a quick swig of her drink. She considered its taste as they moved from the center of the room to stand closer to the entrance. The drink wasn't bad but it was a far cry from the best Vette had ever had. But, of course, it did the job as she already felt tense muscles relaxing. She took another healthy pull and brought her glass down to half. A glance at Glailen showed he had barely taken a sip from his and was instead slowly spinning the glass, eyes staring intently at the amber liquid.

"I've spent my whole life with either no credits or just enough to get by but now, as an apprentice, my monthly allotment is…well I don't know what to do with it." Glailen offered a shrug as he met Vette's eyes.

If you don't know then you could give it to me. I can think of a few things. Luckily Vette was smart enough not to say what she was thinking. She gave some thought to Glailen's…predicament.

"But that's what you worked for, right? I mean the apprenticeship – being Sith and all that. You've earned it with hard work and by being the last one standing. It's only right that you get some perks out of it. That's why it's earned." Glailen seemed to consider the words for a time, looking again at his drink as though it might offer its own words of wisdom. Finally, his gaze returned to Vette, this time with the slightest of smiles.

"You're right, of course."

"So, here's to you, boss!" Raising the glass to her lips, Vette took another mouthful. After a second, Glailen did the same. They pulled away at the same time with contented sighs. Glailen gave her an appraising look.

"And I couldn't have done it without you, Vette. I'm grateful."

"Grateful enough to take this shock collar off?" said Vette with a chuckle. Her mirth was suddenly cut off as realization dawned. Why had she asked that? The words just came before she knew what was happening. Why is it so hard for me to watch what I say around him? The question meant little to her as Glailen's expression fell into a frown, directing hard eyes at her.

For a long moment he just stared at her, then he reached into a back pocket of his pants. Vette's eyes flicked to his hand as it revealed a familiar device. The remote for the shock collar. Vette felt her heart sink at the sight. She had finally done it, finally taken things too far. It was worse when she thought about it too; after Glailen used the shock collar once he would be quicker to do so again the next time. That was how it worked with people.

Glailen brought that remote closer to her. She watched as it inched towards her face, taunting her with the pain it would bring. Despite herself, Vette found her eyes squeezing shut as the anticipation of what was to come quickly became fear. She wouldn't cry out with her mouth firmly closed though – she absolutely would not do anything resembling begging.

But I hate this waiting! Just do it already!

There was an audible click and Vette's eyes shot open, flicking to the left where they found the remote next to her neck. But it was being pulled away and with it came – the collar. Vette did nothing to hide her shock as she tentatively rubbed the back of her neck. She rolled her head from side to side, marveling at the freedom of movement she had grown used to not having. It was…odd losing the weight at her neck but most welcome.

"Wow," she breathed, "okay, I didn't think it would be that easy." Glailen, with shock collar and remote in hand, was looking around as if to find a place to discard the pair. It quickly became apparent there was no such place and decided to put them away in his pack.

"You've earned it, Vette," he said but hesitated, pausing in the motion of zipping up his bag, "it is not freedom though. You serve a Sith as all in the Empire do." Vette was quick to hold her free hand up in a placating gesture, still riding the wave of relief that came from being free of that damned collar.

"Hey, I get it. I'm just glad to be free of that thing." Glailen nodded at the words, able to empathize with the statement. Another point in his favour in Vette's mind. They stood in silence for a time, Glailen content on nursing his drink with short sips but Vette found she had too much on her mind now.

"So, uh, what happens now?" The question seemed to catch Glailen off-guard as he stopped just before taking a pull from his beverage. He took a second to think on his answer but nodded when apparently reaching a decision.

"You and I taking on the galaxy, one world at a time. What do you say?" To add emphasis, Glailen held out his hand.

"What?" asked Vette, taking an involuntary step back from that empty hand.

In Glailen's eyes, Vette could see his conviction, that he meant his words. Still, she couldn't bring herself to meet him halfway. The thought of shaking his hand felt like she would be selling something deeply important. But there he stood, waiting patiently and unmoving. His expression unreadable but his piercing eyes never wavered.

Could she actually say no though? Glailen himself had said she wasn't actually free. Whether she wanted it or not, her life was now following a Sith around and probably getting into a lot of violent trouble. He knows it though – he knows all of it and he's trying to find a compromise. No matter what anyone else would do, Sith or otherwise, Glailen was trying to make things not right but as right as they could be in the world he lived. All she had to do was meet him halfway.

She reached out and took his hand.

"All right." They shook briefly. Vette put on a smile she wasn't sure was genuine.

"Me and my pal the Sith, let's see anyone get in our way."

"Then it's agreed. A new partnership." To seal the deal, Glailen lifted his drink and began draining the glass in one go. Vette cocked an eyebrow at the sight. After a second, she joined him. When both were finished, they stood around without anything to say, both lost in their thoughts. Finally, Vette handed her glass to a passing serving droid. Glailen followed her example.

"What do you say, back to the ship now?" asked Vette. Glailen took a brief look around the room before nodding.

"Yes, I think so."

---

"You've returned, good, it's best if you're here with time to settle before departure." The nimodean was right where they had left him, still working away on his holopad but not so absorbed as to fail to greet them. Glailen inclined his head marginally as they approached.

"That was our reasoning." Nodding, the nimodean turned to a protocol droid standing nearby.

"Escort our guests to their quarters."

"At once, sir," responded the droid. The droid beckoned them to follow, which Glailen saw no reason not to now that the nimodean appeared to have forgotten them already, returning to his holopad.

The droid led them through a doorway and onto a tubular walkway leading out from the space dock to the ship that would take them to Dromund Kaas. Smaller ships were able to land directly inside the space dock but the Black Talon was too large. Instead, it was hooked to the station via several boarding tubes. Each served its own purpose in regards to supply or maintenance but the one Glailen and Vette found themselves on was used for general boarding.

Large sections of the tube were made out of transparisteel, allowing Glailen to get a good look at the station from the outside. The station was not particularly busy but there was still a couple dozen ships that could be seen docking or departing. Further away Glailen spotted the reassuring shapes of Star Destroyers. Korriban was one of the worlds the Imperial Navy always maintained a presence around. Below was the beautiful jewel of the Sith home world itself. The whole scene filled the young Sith with pride. He wondered how many more times he would see the same from other space docks. More than that, he wondered how many more times he would feel the same pride before it became as normal as seeing mountains or forests on a planet. Deep down Glailen admitted he would lose the sense of pride from the sight but he would never lose it from being part of the Empire.

Abruptly Glailen stopped, sensing Vette was no longer following. He turned to find her staring intently out of one of the windows but not at the space dock or any of the things Glailen had been admiring. All of her focus was on the ship they were about to board. Glailen walked over to stand next to her and peered out the window, it offered an excellent view of the large white letters painted on the ship's hull to display its name.

"I've got a bad feeling about this," Vette said, shaking her head. Glailen shrugged his lack of concern.

"We're on a transport vessel not designed for combat traveling deep within Empire territory. The chances of us getting into any sort of trouble are miniscule." Vette turned her gaze to Glailen and he could see she was anything but convinced. After a moment she sighed and backed away from the window.

"Uh-huh."

Glailen watched her go, considered saying more but thought better of it. There was nothing he could say that would ease her mind but he knew she would feel better after they were in transit for a couple of hours. Instead, he looked back at the ship through the window. Suddenly his vision blurred. Glailen rubbed a hand over his eyes while suppressing a groan. How long had it been since he slept? Too long. Far too long with everything he had been through. The Force could keep him focused for only so long. There was no true substitute for sleep. Once settled on the Black Talon he would use the time to get some well-earned rest. He resumed his walk with that thought in mind and very much looking forward to it.

He caught up to Vette and the droid just inside the ship. An Imperial officer, flanked by two troopers, was there to meet them. Or rather here to greet me, thought Glailen as the officer immediately disregarded the others as he arrived. She stood razor straight, hair tied back, uniform impeccable and radiating an aura of professionalism. In short, she was everything an Imperial officer was supposed to be. It was an effort for Glailen not to salute her and even more so when she did so for him.

"Greetings, my lord. I'm Lieutenant Sylas. You're Darth Baras' apprentice I presume. It's always a pleasure to service the Sith."

"Thank you, lieutenant. This appears to be an excellent ship; I'm sure its crew is equal in quality." Lieutenant Sylas seemed surprised by Glailen's comments as her momentarily broken composure showed. Glailen couldn't blame her. Members of the Empire's military were not used to receiving compliments from Sith, especially recently made apprentices. After spending years under the heels of the overseers, many apprentices were quick to flaunt the power that came with their position. Glailen was not interested in having such an arrogant approach.

"You're too kind, my lord, but I'll be sure to pass along your compliments." Glailen glanced at Vette, sensing amusement from her, and found her hiding a small smile. He wasn't sure why but thought nothing of it as the lieutenant changed the subject.

"The captain sends his apologies for not being here – he prefers to remain at his post on the bridge – but allow me to welcome you aboard." Glailen nodded as he waved off any concern.

"You can tell the captain it's fine. I wasn't actually expecting to be greeted by anyone upon my arrival. My companion and I are just here for passage to Dromund Kaas. We'll stay out of your way." Sylas nodded at the statement.

"Well, we should arrive in just under a day. I'll inform you when we've arrived at the Dromund system. If you need anything else, please, don't hesitate to ask."

"Thank you. That will be well." Lieutenant Sylas offered a bow before turning and leaving, presumably returning to the bridge. The droid beckoned Glailen and Vette to follow it and they were led through the vessel for a time before reaching what appeared to be the section of the ship dedicated to living quarters. They stopped at a door that was further away from the majority in the hall. After a quick code was entered by the droid, the door slid open to reveal a rather large room containing a sitting space, bathroom, small kitchen and sleeping area. It was the latter that drew Glailen's attention as he walked in.

"This will be your room for the duration of the flight, my Lord. The Black Talon is primarily a supply transport vessel but it does host a number of VIP rooms. We hope this will be to your liking."

"It appears to have everything I could ask for on a short trip," responded Glailen, admittedly hoping the droid would make a quick exit.

"Very good, my Lord. Your companion will have the room adjacent which you can access through that door." Glailen and Vette turned as one to the door in question.

"Wonderful," stated Vette as she walked over to the door. There was annoyance in Vette but Glailen ignored it as he turned back to the droid.

"These rooms will do well. Thank you."

"No need to thank me but if you require anything else, please, do not hesitate to ask." With that, gratefully, the droid left, leaving Glailen and Vette to themselves. Glailen didn't have to wait long to be left alone as Vette opened the door to her room, though she paused before entering.

"Well, I'm going to get settled in." Glailen nodded but then Vette put on a smirk that appeared awkward to him.

"Don't forget to knock before entering, yeah?"

"I'll be sure to remember my manners," assured Glailen. This seemed to satisfy Vette as she disappeared into her room, closing the door behind her.

Glailen waited a couple of heartbeats before letting out an exhausted sigh. He considered doing a few things but didn't really believe he could do anything other than drop into bed. There was barely time to remove his protective vest and the shirt underneath before his body gave in. A brief glance at the chronometer next to the bed – feeling a twinge of excitement at how much time he had to rest – was all he could manage before his eyes closed and he became lost in the dark.

The door chime woke him. It wasn't a particularly loud or annoying but it was a sound that dragged him from his sleep, therefore he immediately hated it. Something between a growl and a whimper escaped his lips as he rose to a sitting position at the edge of the bed. A look at the chronometer said he had barely been out of it for an hour. The chime came again and Glailen got unsteadily to his feet, struggling against the groggy stupor that came from being awaken too soon. He looked around the room for his discarded shirt and began shuffling towards it even as the person on the other side of the door decided to try knocking loudly. As far as Glailen was concerned they could wait until he considered himself presentable.

Then they'd better have a damn good reason for waking a Sith.

Suddenly Glailen heard the sound of the door opening. Light flooded into the dark room, illuminating Glailen with his back to the door. His hand went to his belt expecting to find his lightsaber but discovering it wasn't there. A faint memory came to Glailen of him placing the weapon on the stand next to his bed – meaning it was closer to the intruder than to him. Cursing himself, he summoned the lightsaber to his hands even as he spun to face the doorway. The instant he felt the weapon in his grip he ignited the blade and assumed a battle stance. Catching sight of the intruder, he almost felt foolish for the reaction; feeling more confused than threatened

A protocol droid stood in the doorway, its head turning so its round optics could take in the room. After performing a complete cycle, it settled its attention on Glailen and didn't seem concerned that he had not abandoned his battle-ready pose.

"Subject confirmed," it stated, "greetings. I am NR-O2. You have been selected to assist in an important mission. My master wishes to speak with you. May I come in?" A moment passed where Glailen considered the situation before his curiosity won through.

"You may."

"Who is your master?" asked Glailen as the door closed behind NR-O2.

"Grand Moff Rykus Kilran." Glailen blinked then deactivated his lightsaber. He couldn't help but give one longing glance towards the bed he was already missing while rubbing a sore shoulder. His attention returned to the droid.

"Give me a moment." Without waiting for a reply, he walked over to the door connecting his room to the one Vette was staying in. He knocked twice.

"Vette, are you there?" There was a momentary pause, then Vette's muffled voice came through the door.

"Uh, yeah. You okay? Thought I heard your lightsaber."

"Will you come over? It seems we have a mission."

"Sure thing." Despite the agreement, the uncertainty in Vette's tone was not lost on Glailen. He couldn't blame her. NR-O2's optics followed Glailen as he moved from the door. Likewise, Glailen kept one eye on the droid as he went in search of his shirt again.

"I am aware of your slave. She does not have clearance to listen–"

"Vette will be assisting me in whatever this mission is. Explaining the task once is better than explaining it twice, yes?" Glailen faced NR-O2 and spoke firmly in hopes the droid would understand not to pursue the matter further. It seemed to consider its options for a second before reaching a conclusion.

"Very well," it replied in a perfectly obedient manner.

Glailen suppressed a sigh. It was an awkward situation but he couldn't be angry with NR-O2 having its particular opinions of Vette; after all it was programmed to. That didn't mean it wasn't annoying to deal with. At least droids could be counted on not to let bias interfere in their work. Glailen was just bending down to retrieve his shirt when he heard the door open behind him.

"What, did he catch you getting out of the shower?" Looking back, Glailen found Vette stopped in the doorway to appraise the situation. If she was trying to embarrass him then she would have to try harder.

"I was sleeping."

"I figured," she replied with a grin, "but imagining a droid catching you getting out of a shower is more amusing."

"Have you reconsidered?" asked the droid.

"Reconsidered what?" Vette, ever curious, cut in before Glailen could address NR-O2.

"Nothing," he said, waving both twi'lek and droid to drop the topic. They had more important things to be talking about, as far as he was concerned, and he wanted to get on with it.

"It seems NR-O2 is here on behalf of someone very powerful." As Glailen spoke NR-O2 finished establishing the necessary connection and a blue hologram, no more than two feet tall, appeared over the dining table.

"Grand Moff Rykus Kilran," intoned Glailen, meaning it both as an introduction for Vette and a greeting for the moff. The Sith apprentice gave a shallow bow of his head, ignoring the surprised look the action earned from Vette.

"It's good to hear my reputation precedes me," said Kilran conversationally, "although I do prefer the title Butcher of Coruscant." If Lieutenant Sylas had worn a commanding professional aura than the moff before Glailen looked as though he were born to it. Kilran was a powerfully built man, wide in the shoulders, and with a penetrating gaze that hid one of the finest strategic minds the Empire had to offer. Yes, Glailen was familiar with the man.

"And what can I do for the commander of the Fifth Fleet?" he asked.

"My, you are well informed," said Kilran with the slightest upward tilt of an eyebrow. If the moff was taken off-guard by Glailen's knowledge, he didn't let it distract him for more than an instant.

"A short time ago a skirmish took place with several Republic vessels. One of them, the Brentaal Star, escaped." A hole opened up in Glailen's stomach. He wasn't sure why yet but he wasn't in the habit of ignoring his feelings. Still, he kept quiet as Kilran continued.

"Our intelligence indicates a defector is aboard referred to only as 'the general.' We don't know who they are but we do know the Republic believes he knows various military secrets. Our secrets. That vessel cannot be allowed to reach Republic space." Kilran paused a moment to allow his words to sink in and it was well he did. The severity of the situation was beginning to become clear to Glailen. If a traitor was to provide the Republic with important military information it could tip the balance of power. Such a move would undermine all the sacrifices made by the Empire in the Great War that had led to its rise and territorial acquisitions. A betrayal of the Empire and its people. Anger filled Glailen.

"The Black Talon is the only ship close enough to intercept in time. Unfortunately, Captain Orvik doesn't share my enthusiasm. He has disobeyed my orders." Suddenly all that anger that had been growing now drained away. It rushed into that pit in Glailen's stomach as he began to understand. He now knew why he was talking with Grand Moff Kilran.

"This is where you come in. Take command of the Black Talon, intercept the Republic vessel and do not allow the general to escape. NR-O2 will assist you." Another pause. Glailen licked his dry lips to speak.

"The Black Talon is not a vessel made for combat," he said, glad his voice remained steady and sure. Kilran's eyes narrowed slightly at the comment.

"I am well aware of the Black Talon's capabilities. We use the tools available to us; I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," responded Glailen, realizing there would be no dissuading the moff. He took a deep breath, steeling himself.

"We'll begin immediately. The general will not escape." A small smile appeared on Kilran's lips.

"Excellent. So good to see patriotism is still alive in these times of border skirmishes and so-called peace." Before anything else could be said the connection was broken leaving a heavy silence on the room. Glailen's vision began to spin alarmingly. He leaned forward, planting his hands on the table, the same one Kilran's image had stood on, to steady himself.

"He can't be serious. He's not serious." Vette spoke up behind him. Feeling her ambivalence and anxiety was like looking at a mirror of Glailen's own. Although, while hers remained constant, Glailen's grew with each passing second.

"I assure you, Moff Kilran is very serious on this matter," said NR-O2. Vette was about to offer a retort but thought better of arguing with a droid. She took a step closer to Glailen, reaching one hand out imploringly.

"Are we really doing this? We're going to fight Imperials to get them to fight the Republic?"

"We have our orders." As he spoke, Glailen's hands folded into fists, squeezing painfully. Vette pulled the hand back as though he had slapped it away.

"I feel like the Republic is laughing at us this exact second," she mumbled in frustration.

'They care so little for us.'

"It's a uniquely extraneous situation that does not allow us proper preparation. We have to make do."

"Yeah, okay, whatever you say." Glailen bit back a retort to Vette's comment. He wasn't angry with her; he was just trying to accept the position he was in. Was he really going to kill Imperials? He thought of the lightsaber at his side and wanted to throw it across the room. The first time he would use it against someone and it was to be those he should consider allies.

Shaking his head, Glailen wanted to chide himself. Why should he be so hesitant? The captain had made his decision and it was the wrong one. Of course, the rest of the crew had been given no say in it yet they would stand between their captain and a rampaging Sith. That shouldn't make a difference either. Any other Sith in Glailen's position wouldn't think twice. But there wasn't anyone else there. It was just him, Glailen Reichscher, and at that moment he held any number of lives in his hands.

'They care so little for us. But you can be different.'

He whipped around to face the others. His gaze flitted to the blasters at Vette's hips, then up to her face. Vette nearly jumped back when his eyes found her.

"Do those blasters have stun capabilities?" he asked, voice hard.

"Yeah, but not very strong…"

"Use it. Doesn't need to be strong, we just need to clear the way to the bridge," said Glailen as he unhooked his lightsaber. He studied it as though he had never seen it before. Reaching the bridge without…well, it would be a challenge for him.

"If you're worried about loss of life, I assure you–" NR-O2 cut off abruptly when Glailen suddenly turned and advanced on it a step. The droid did not back away but its optics whirred erratically for a second – the equivalent of a person retreating to the back of the room.

"We will avoid using lethal force." Droids were not typically programed with the ability to fear but self-preservation was another thing. At that moment NR-O2 was aware of the consequences of pushing Glailen in his state of mind.

"Very well," the droid relented. Satisfied, Glailen went for the door; the others were forced to follow.

"What if we run into battledroids?" asked Vette cautiously.

"I'll handle them."

"Sure but, like, what if we run into a lot of them?" Glailen ignored the question as he stepped out into the hall. He looked right and then turned left, hoping to find that perfect balance of speed and casualness as he avoided meeting the eyes of the pair of crewmates walking in his direction. Once Vette and NR-O2 were in the hall with him, he began marching along. He kept telling himself there was no reason for anyone to suspect them. No one would be eager to bother a Sith and as such would find reasons to look the other way when one passed. They wouldn't be able to get all the way to the bridge uninterrupted but the closer they got the better it would be.

Glailen turned a corner and his steps slowed for a second upon seeing the three troopers positioned to block anyone from advancing further. There was one trooper at either side of the hall with an officer standing in the center. They came to attention upon seeing they had visitors; the officer held up a hand bidding Glailen and his companions to stop.

"I'm sorry, my Lord, but the captain has given orders that only authorized personnel may continue beyond this point."

The officer had barely finished speaking when Glailen reached out a hand, felt the Force latch onto the blaster rifle each trooper held, and pulled back. The troopers stumbled forward as their weapons were ripped from their hands. Glailen rushed forward with incredible speed, reaching the shocked officer in an instant to deliver a hammering punch to his gut. As he doubled over Glailen finished it with an elbow strike to the back of the man's head. He looked to his left, eyes finding the trooper on that side turning to run just as a pair of blaster bolts punched into them. They collapsed to the ground but Glailen sensed they were still alive – Vette had used the stun as requested. One trooper remained, however, and it was to them Glailen turned. He looked over and felt alarm to see the trooper wasn't trying to escape but rather was going for a control panel close by. A blaster bolt whipped past their head; a second struck their right arm causing it to hang limply at their side. They recovered quickly and reached out with their left hand to strike a single button. Glailen felt admiration for the trooper's dedication even as he used the Force to slam them against the wall.

The damage was done.

Glailen turned his gaze to his companions.

"Sorry!" cried Vette over the alarm now blaring through the ship.

"Keep moving!" Without waiting another moment, Glailen followed his own command and took off at a sprint. He knew he would easily outpace the others and recognized the danger of them becoming separated but there was little choice. They were on a timer and had just lost of a lot of time.

Glailen moved quick but made sure to keep his senses sharp, seeking any threats or surprises. He had hoped to get much closer to the bridge before being forced to act but now the only way forward was with force. The lightsaber, not yet ignited, felt heavy in his hands as he ran through the halls. He was trained with bladed weapons but his knowledge of blaster bolt deflection was quite limited. Droids didn't worry him so much but if he encountered a group of troopers and was forced to engage…he hadn't planned on using the deadly weapon on Imperials.

Certainly not this soon.

As if to mock Glailen, a side door opened up ahead and he could sense the anticipation from the other side. Gritting his teeth, Glailen quickened his pace and leapt into a spin, reaching out with the Force to lift a pair of supply containers and, as he came to face the doorway, threw the containers at the troopers. He wondered if he used too much force as he heard the containers slam into their targets but he couldn't dwell on it. As he landed from his jump, he resumed his sprint without missing a step. There was no time for wasted movement.

Glailen came upon a short stairway which he bounded up taking the steps three at a time. At the top he spotted a pair of battledroids ready to block his way. Behind them a blast door was beginning to close. Glailen ignited his weapon. He didn't have to hold back against droids. Roaring, he dashed towards them.

"Cease hostile activities and surrender to vessel security. This is your only warning."

Glailen's mind didn't register the droid's words and he closed the distance too fast for them to open fire. He rammed his lightsaber through the droid on the right and angled its chassis to block the blaster fire that came from the remaining droid. Glailen grabbed the blaster from the first droid before using the Force to send it flying at its comrade. He didn't wait for the second droid to recover before firing a few bolts to keep it down. Immediately he turned and dove through the shrinking space between the blast doors.

Navy regulations dictates the main power supply is there!

Glailen rolled to the side and slashed at a metal panel, deep enough for the blade to reach the important wires underneath. The blast doors stopped moving but Glailen didn't.

And the back-up power will be there!

He threw his lightsaber above to impale a metal box on the ceiling. The blast doors were still not moving and Glailen was confident they would remain that way. After a second, Glailen's lightsaber slid free of its hole and he used the Force to guide it safely into his waiting hand. Through the Force he knew he was not alone and looked over his shoulder to find Vette, breathing heavily but unscathed, leaning against the other side of the blast doors. NR-O2 was just then reaching the top of the stairs. They were keeping up well.

"Wow, nice job," offered Vette as she surveyed Glailen's work. Glailen nodded in acknowledgement before turning to resume his trek through the ship. He took one step before stumbling as pain lanced through his leg; free hand instinctively going to the source.

"Hey, are you all right?" Glailen heard the concern in Vette's voice. Heard it and did not care for it as he looked back at her.

"Stay focused," he ground out through clenched teeth. Without waiting for her response or reaction, he pushed through the pain and broke into a run.

Even in death, Vemrin was still threatening Glailen's life. The blows he'd delivered – particularly the one on the leg – were crying out now. They needed healing. The kolto patchs could do their job but they needed time. More importantly, they needed Glailen to not be running around exacerbating the damage. There was nothing to be done for it though. All Glailen could do was ignore the pain as needed; use it when possible.

Before long he reached a lift; unguarded. With it he could reach the level where the bridge was. Vette and NR-O2 could call it back once they arrived. Eventually they would catch up. Staying alert, Glailen stepped on and tried the controls. Nothing happened. The system was locked. Glailen let out an irritated sigh. Of course, the lift wouldn't work for him. He would need to take the long way to his destination. Unless, of course, NR-O2 proved useful.

Glailen searched for his companions; sure enough they were on their way. Waiting for them to catch up was a different kind of agony though. They moved as quick as they could and Glailen knew it – he didn't blame them – but precious moments were lost as the Sith stood in place with as much patience as he could muster. Any advantage he'd gained by striking through the ship defenses before they were ready was effectively lost and he was acutely aware of it.

Nothing to be done for it. Focus on solutions. Those words repeated themselves too many times in Glailen's head for him to do much thinking on solutions. Vette caught up first, of course, and took the time to catch her breath. She didn't ask what the holdup was; whether because she trusted Glailen to have a reason for waiting or because she was just glad to take a moment's rest. A short time later NR-O2 arrived as well. Glailen didn't waste time.

"Tell me you can get this elevator working."

"Of course," responded the droid as it shuffled onto the platform. Its organic companions joined it.

They settled in while NR-O2 connected to the elevator's panel and began working away. In seconds the door closed and the lift began moving. Glailen was hyper-alert, listening intently to NR-O2 working, to the lift sliding almost soundlessly up its tube, to Vette's erratic breathing and to the pounding of blood in his ears. His eyes were fixed on the doors, his body fully prepared to act in and instant.

"This is Captain Orvik of the Black Talon," the sudden intrusion on the silence within the elevator caused Vette to jump and Glailen to ignite his lightsaber, "Sith, I don't know what this is about but I implore you stop this before–" The words suddenly cut off.

"I have cut off the audio to this lift's speakers," stated NR-O2. Glailen resisted the urge to curse as he deactivated his weapon. Jumping at words – he was on edge, which was understandable but he needed more control.

"Are you okay?" whispered Vette, perhaps afraid to break the silence as it had been a moment earlier. Glailen kept his eyes focused on the door.

"I'm fine."

"Hey." Glailen felt a hand on his arm and his head whipped around. Vette flinched at the reaction, retracting her hand, but it only took a second for her to gather herself.

"Are you okay?" she asked again, empathising the words. Glailen opened his mouth to speak but stopped and closed it again. He could sense the genuine concern in Vette. Exhaling heavily through his nose, he tried again.

"I have to be." The words earned a grimace from Vette as she lowered her gaze.

"Okay, when you put it that way…"

"We have arrived," intoned NR-O2.

Glailen's head snapped to the doors as they began to open. His eyes widened; pulse quickened. He shoved Vette next to NR-O2, out of sight, and ignited his lightsaber. Six troopers and two battledroids unleashed a barrage of blaster fire. Panic threatened to overtake Glailen but he quickly isolated it and locked it away. He called upon the Force and allowed it to guide his movements as his lightsaber moved to intercept any bolts that came too close to hitting their target. The crimson blade moved with such speed there was no time to think about the next action, only to feel it. Even so, Glailen couldn't ignore the voice in his head screaming that he wouldn't last more than a few moments under such pressure. What was more, he didn't have time to think about where he was deflecting the blaster bolts. As though to prove the point, a bolt struck the wall between Vette and NR-O2. Vette yelped – NR-O2 seemed not to notice or at least not to care. Glailen noticed and he cared. There was no way he could accept one of his companions falling because of a mistake he made. An instant later and a bolt was deflected back at the shooters. It traveled to the left side, past the battledroid, past one trooper and then another to strike the third right in the chest. The trooper dropped lifelessly to the floor.

The panic Glailen had locked away now pushed back against its cage. Fear and anger smashed together inside the Sith. Letting out a defiant howl, Glailen charged his attackers. They wore enclosed helmets that hid their faces – a fact that meant Glailen would have to hit hard – but the Sith could feel their shock as he was suddenly among them.

He focused on the group on the right, moving in close. Lightsaber flashing, he sliced through the battledroid's blaster then reversed the movement to cut the droid in half at the waist. Grabbing one of the arms, Glailen spun the droid and threw it at the group on the left. At the moment his hand released the droid he used the Force to increase the ferocity of the throw. The battledroid struck its companion, the impact smashing the second against the wall behind it. The Force push flung the two troopers against the wall as well, stunning them for precious moments. Glailen could only sense the results as he had spun to face his other foes before the droids had collided. It was good that he had for a blaster was leveled at his chest and its owner was about to squeeze the trigger. Glailen crouched down just in time as a bolt flew over his head. The trooper wouldn't get the chance to fire a second round as Glailen's lightsaber sliced through his blaster an instant before the Sith jabbed his elbow into the trooper's gut. Glailen wasted no time before using his right hand to vault over the doubled-over trooper. As he did so he angled his left leg as it swung down to strike the blaster of the second trooper just as it discharged. Glailen used the momentum to spin around and thrust out his right leg in a straight kick that knocked the trooper against the wall behind them. Without looking he used the Force to pull the blaster from the third trooper, causing them to stumble closer, while at the same time deactivating his lightsaber and delivering a hammering blow to the helmet of the second trooper. Grabbing the helmet of the second trooper, Glailen spun, throwing them to the floor, before leaping up and dropping a heavy punch onto the third trooper that knocked them to the ground.

Glailen turned his attention to the first trooper who was getting to his feet but still bent over. More importantly the two troopers on the other side of the hall were recovered. Glailen leapt forward, using the injured trooper as a springboard as he kicked down on their helmet and knocked them back to the floor. The Sith flew across the hall to land in front of a trooper. He could feel the panic and fear within them and he wouldn't give them any time to recover. They raised their blaster but Glailen's lightsaber flashed and the weapon was cut in half. An instant later and the Sith push-kicked the trooper sending them flying back against the wall. Deactivating his lightsaber, Glailen threw the metal cylinder at the second trooper. It struck their helmet with enough force to daze them. At the same time Glailen rushed the first trooper, one hand leading to take hold of their helmet and smashed their head against the wall with as much strength as he could. The trooper was still sliding down to the floor when Glailen turned his attention to the second – and final – trooper. He moved in quick but not quick enough as the trooper fired off a round. With the Force guiding him, Glailen knew where the bolt would go and dodged around it; the next instant he was in front of the trooper. He took hold of their blaster while at the same time slamming an elbow into their helmet. The trooper was stunned for a second and that was all the time Glailen needed to twist the weapon free of its owner's grip. Glailen then struck the trooper in their helmet once more with the butt of the blaster. They were rocked back but, to Glailen's surprise, kept up the fight by throwing a punch. It was a desperate strike, one easily punished. Glailen caught the arm, trapping it between his own, locked the joint and turned, dragging the trooper front first to the floor. He then applied pressure and twisted the arm. There was a sickening snap. Then there was screaming.

Glailen rose to his feet leaving the trooper to cradle his broken arm. He tossed the blaster out of reach. A second later his lightsaber returned to his waiting hand. Calming his breathing, Glailen turned to the elevator. Vette surveyed the scene with wide eyes though her mouth was a thin shut line. NR-O2 looked as unimpressed as a droid without any detailed facial features could.

"Lethal force would have been more efficient." In response Glailen ignited his lightsaber. NR-O2 offered no further comments.

"Move."

Following his own order, Glailen began down the hallway though he moved at a jog to give himself time to gather after the fight and prepare for the next. He didn't have long to wait. At the end of the hall, he took a right turn and there, at the end of the new hallway, he spotted a set of large doors behind which he knew was the bridge. Before he could reach it, however, he had half a dozen battledroids to contend with. They spotted him the same time he saw them; they raised their blasters and began firing. Glailen raised his lightsaber and charged.

Bolts whipped past Glailen as he rushed along the hall. He zigzagged when he could to throw off the droids' aim, other times he used his lightsaber to deflect shots that would have hit their mark. One such bolt struck the leg of one of the droids on the left side – a lucky occurrence as Glailen hadn't intended anything other than protecting himself – and the next instant the Sith was upon them. He ran his lightsaber through the first droid before push kicking it into the battledroid behind it sending both colliding with the blast doors. Glailen then dropped to a crouch as the two droids on his left began firing at him. At the same time, he swept his blade to the right, cutting through the legs of the droid on that side. Before it could hit the floor, he reversed the sweep of his lightsaber to sever the droid's head from its body. Moving quickly, Glailen took a step toward the droids still standing and leapt into a low flip, his weapon carving a path through the droid that had taken a blaster bolt to its leg, and landed before one battledroid. His lightsaber flashed, cutting through the droid's arms before it could react to his presence. The other droid directed its blaster and fired off several rounds but not before Glailen grabbed the armless droid before him and used it as a shield. The bolts hammered into the droid and it went limp at the same moment Glailen sidestepped to the left and threw his lightsaber to impale the other droid before it could adjust its aim. A second was all Glailen had before a bolt shot past his face, missing his head by an inch. Without thinking or looking for the shooter, he dropped into a roll. When he came out of it, he was crouched with a blaster raised to his shoulder from which he fired two rounds. The first struck the droid pinned against the blast doors by the first droid of the group to fall; the second bolt was for good measure.

Slowly Glailen rose to his feet with eyes searching for further movement. There was none save for a few wayward sparks. Satisfied, he tossed the blaster aside and summoned his lightsaber to his hand. He glanced back at the blaster burn on the wall that marked the final destination of the bolt that had nearly killed him. Only dumb luck had spared his life that time. And what would my new master think of me willingly discarding my lightsaber not once but twice? The question struck Glailen as not so important until he made an amendment; what would my teacher think?

Pushing the question aside, Glailen surveyed the problem before him. Getting past the blast doors would not be easy. He walked over to a panel and drove his lightsaber through it almost to the hilt before dragging it down. Once he was satisfied the power cables were cut, he threw his weapon at the back-up power box as he had before. Unlike before, however, it wouldn't be so easy. The bridge doors had a secondary back-up power circuit and that was located on the other side. It would take a few moments for it to kick in and in that time Glailen needed to get the doors open.

Glailen returned his lightsaber to his belt as he faced the obstacle in question. He relaxed his muscles and breathed deep. Closing his eyes, he concentrated on his connection to the Force; taking hold of it and then pulling. Power was needed to see the task done and power was what he would have from the Force. When he had reached as deep into the Force as he dared, Glailen's eyes opened and his hands shot out grasping at the air to the naked eye but in truth he held tight to the doors before him. Blocking out everything else, Glailen began slowly widening the space between his hands. In response the doors shook with tension. Then they began to part. A narrow gap appeared but stubbornly refused to grow. Gritting his teeth, Glailen commanded the Force to obey his will. He demanded that the doors be thrown open. It felt like he was trying to pull apart the doors with his bare hands but it didn't matter. He had to succeed. There was no alternative.

Glailen roared, throwing his arms wide and with them the doors slid back into the walls.

The next thing he knew was blaster fire surrounding him.

---

Vette was becoming intimately familiar with her hate for running, made worse by the fact Glailen liked to run so far ahead that she was forced to push hard to keep up. Such was what she was doing now as she approached the Sith from behind. He was just standing there with his hands reaching out to the blast doors in front of him as though he wanted to strangle the inanimate objects for being in his way. Heh, same, thought Vette as she recalled having similar urges while caged on Korriban. But as Vette drew closer, she realized the doors were shaking and slowly being pulled apart. Realization dawned and Vette was wondering if she should offer encouragement or if speaking would ruin Glailen's concentration – then the doors flew apart to reveal the bridge controlling the ship on the other side. It also allowed the two dozen or so Imperial troopers on the other side to get clear shots at Glailen.

Before Vette could shout any sort of warning the blaster fire began with burning blasts streaking past the exposed Sith. Glailen was lucky as the first few shots were ill-aimed, which gave him time to start reacting as he ducked and slid to the left before turning his body and back-flipping to land on the right side of the doorway, out of sight of the troopers. Vette was the next available target as she herself realized when the blaster bolts kept coming. Her escape was far less graceful as she dived to the floor on the left and crawled over to the doorway, sitting up against the door frame. Now that she was out of the way that left only one target and Vette watched NR-O2 with interest. If the droid were destroyed or at least suffered damage, well, Vette was of the opinion she'd earned some happiness at this point. She was to be disappointed – and annoyed – as the droid waddled over to her side without receiving so much as a scratch. As expected, the droid paid her no mind, turning its optics to Glailen.

"We mustn't waste time here." Glailen spared NR-O2 a look but said nothing as he returned his focus to the door. Occasionally a couple of blaster bolts would shoot past though the three of them offered no target. Even Vette could figure out the guards on the bridge were buying time for additional security to arrive. That would leave the three of them trapped and easy to overwhelm. They had to make a move before then but what could they do? Vette kept her gaze trained on Glailen. If anything was to happen, he would have to lead the way. She hoped her eyes didn't look overly pleading, but if they did could she really be blamed? Suddenly Glailen straightened and unhooked his lightsaber from his belt. He looked at her and she saw his resolve.

"I'll go in first, wait five seconds then follow, keep slow and stay low. Aim for the shooters while I keep their attention on me. The sooner I reach the captain the sooner I can convince him to cooperate." Instructions delivered; he looked away while Vette's mind worked. Glailen was just going to rush them. Admittedly Vette couldn't think of a better option but she had thought – hoped – that Glailen would come up with something better than suicide. Vette wanted to say something, protest a stupid plan and insist that there must be a better option. She stopped when she really looked at Glailen's expression. The grim look he had spoke of reluctance to go through with a decision. He knew what he had to do but also understood with reason the chances they had of succeeding. That didn't mean he could back down. It's more than that, thought Vette as she remembered back to the elevator, how Glailen reacted when one of the troopers was hit by a stray bolt. She thought of how he'd ordered her to set her blasters to stun. He doesn't want to hurt Imperials. He doesn't want to kill his own. Vette had no love for the Empire and with good reason but she could respect Glailen's position. She could understand the turmoil he must have been dealing with. But there's nothing else to be done and he knows it. He also knows there's no going back so he's doing the best that he can. And, Vette realized, she wanted to help him somehow.

"You can do this." The statement took Glailen by surprise by the way he looked back at Vette with his lips parted as though he couldn't remember what he was going to say. Vette looked back not really sure of what to expect but saw as he collected himself. Saw as his resolve took on a new shape. Not of someone dragging their feet but instead ready to march with purpose.

"Thank you."

In an instant Glailen activated his lightsaber and rushed through the doorway. Blaster fire began a second later. Bolts flew through the opening terrifying Vette as she thought of putting herself in their path. She blew out a breath she hadn't realized she had been holding in. Meeting Glailen's eyes had been difficult, especially as she tried to show confidence that he could succeed. A confidence she would be lying if she were to say she felt unwaveringly. Had she in fact convinced Glailen to run off and die? The sound of blasters discharging could still be heard but far fewer bolts shot through the doorway. Wherever Glailen was he apparently had made progress. Or are all those Imps with their big guns just vaporizing his corpse to make sure there's nothing left? Vette swallowed hard at the thought and tried to steady her breathing. Five seconds had to be almost up. She couldn't just run away, right? No, that ship had long since flown off. Five seconds had to be up by now.

"The time given you by Apprentice Glailen is up." Of course, NR-O2 was there to confirm her fears. She was about to go die and it took everything she had to accept that. Strange, then, that she had anything left to keep from taking the damn droid with her.

"Shut it!" growled Vette before ducking her head and running onto the bridge.

Her eyes tried to take in everything at once. The first thing she settled on was Glailen, somehow still alive and just then reaching a short flight of stairs. Lightsaber a dizzying blur of motion, he ducked, dodged and spun in an effort to not only survive but keep moving forward. With inhuman speed he was able to keep up with the threats surrounding him. How he was able to keep his nerve with a room full of soldiers shooting at him just reminded Vette that she never wanted to get on his bad side. If they survived, of course.

Don't get distracted, Vette!

Vette tore her eyes away from Glailen to survey how best she could help. To either side there were elevated platforms upon which all the important equipment was and so too were most of the troopers. Several had been knocked down on the right but were regaining their feet. Vette's first thought was to make sure they stayed down but she caught movement on the left and looked in time to see a couple of troopers had noticed her arrival. They took aim at her. Without thinking she dived to the side, escaping their initial volley, and fired rapidly with her own blasters. It wasn't clean but she managed to take down both targets. As she got to her feet she fired at a trooper who had been turning towards her. She then began crouch running forward whilst taking shots at the troopers recovering on the right. One went down. Another. By then she had done too much to be ignored.

Ice coated Vette's heart as she watched half a dozen troopers swing their blasters in her direction. She broke into a sprint, firing wildly and hoping to hit something. Ahead was a computer terminal that offered the only cover available. Bolts whipped past her exposed flesh. She screamed as she dived toward the terminal. Somehow, she landed without a scratch and once there she made herself as small as possible. The troopers didn't stop shooting at her. The computer was being ravaged by bolts. A cacophony of sound enveloped Vette; somewhere in the madness she was screaming. She tried to fire back but couldn't move without something sparking too close for comfort.

She was stuck.

She was going to die.

Something wet was rolling down Vette's face. It wasn't blood, just tears. Just tears. Mom, I'm so sorry. I tried to find you – I tried to live! I tried…

The shooting stopped. The sudden lack of deafening blasts was a shock too great for Vette to understand it right away. Slowly she found the courage to peek over the top of what remained of the terminal. Her eyes widened.

---

Using the ship's captain – Orvik was his name – as a shield, and keeping his lightsaber at the man's neck, was the easiest way Glailen could think of to stop the shooting. As he looked past Orvik's shoulder, however, he didn't enjoy having so many blaster rifles pointed at him. Still, it was better than having them shooting at him. That had not been fun. His eyes shifted from one trooper to the next, sensing their anger and fear; gauging their willingness to start firing again. They all seemed interested in keeping their commanding officer from coming to harm and that worked in Glailen's favour.

"Drop your weapons!" Glailen's command filled the bridge. No one rushed to obey, he noted, but neither did they take it upon themselves to resume firing.

"Do it," ordered the captain after a tense moment and that was enough to get everyone to, grudgingly, place their weapons on the floor. Glailen kept his hold on the officer until he was certain every blaster, big and small, had been dropped. He then pulled his lightsaber away and shoved Orvik forward but as the captain turned to face him, Glailen leveled his weapon at the other man's chest. It was crucial that everyone still believed their captain was in danger.

Glailen looked past the crew immediately in front of him to better study the situation. Several troopers were down, likely due to Vette's efforts, but the twi'lek had been pinned behind a computer by too many troopers for her to handle. If Glailen had taken a few seconds longer then it was likely she wouldn't have made it. He didn't dwell on that fact as he saw NR-O2 making its way through the bridge towards him. While waiting on the droid, Glailen's eyes flicked to where Lieutenant Sylas stood on his left. At first glance she looked as she had when they met earlier but for the slightest crease in her brow – the only outward indicator of the rage inside her. Glailen felt no fear from her, only anger. She was justified in it he knew. The Sith looked away as NR-O2 reached the top of the stairs.

"Congratulations, my Lord, the bridge is secure."

"Alert the medical teams. I want everyone seen to," ordered Glailen, his tone leaving no room for discussion.

"Right away, my Lord." NR-O2 offered no comment or even hesitation, apparently truly satisfied with the results Glailen had achieved.

"I appreciate that," said Captain Orvik. Glailen turned his full attention to the captain, lowering his lightsaber as he took a couple of steps closer.

"You disobeyed the Grand Moff's orders." The statement caused Orvik to flinch but he held his ground, even giving an exasperated shake of his head.

"Of course, that's what this is about. Listen, we are not a combat vessel. It's not a good idea for us to get into a fight – certainly not by ourselves."

"You're not alone. I'm here," replied the Sith. Orvik gave him an incredulous look.

"It's a death sentence!" he declared but Glailen was already slowly shaking his head.

"Not guaranteed. Returning to Dromund Kaas empty-handed, however, is." This time Glailen's words seemed to reach the captain for Orvik hesitated. Glailen seized on the opportunity.

"It's treason and that's a death sentence for you at the very least but probably for your first mate, maybe every officer on this ship. Although, we are talking about the Butcher of Coruscant." Referring to Kilran's infamous name had a noticeable effect on the room. Crew members shifted nervously, looking to their captain to have the solution. Orvik no doubt felt the pressure of those stares but kept his composure. Still, he said nothing and Glailen continued.

"It's quite possible everyone on board will be executed as an example to the entire Empire. No one goes against an order from the Grand Moff."

"I'm responsible for this crew," said Orvik, almost in defeat. Glailen sympathized with the man and the struggle he was dealing with. That didn't mean the problem was going away.

"I understand that. If I could do this without your help I would, but I can't." Sensing the conversation shifting in his favour, Glailen deactivated his lightsaber and even risked placing a hand on the captain's shoulder.

"Give me an opening," he continued, "and I'll take care of the hard part."

Orvik deflated from Glailen's words, shoulders slumping. It worried Glailen; not only did he need the captain to agree, he needed him to have the strength to lead. What more could he say though? He needed to trust that Orvik, at his core, was a man of the Empire. In answer to Glailen's faith, Orvik straightened, finding confidence in his thoughts, and turned a circle. He met the eyes of everyone on the bridge, those under his command. Finally, his gaze returned to Glailen and the Sith could see the determination behind them.

"Very well, we'll do things your way." Before Glailen could respond, Orvik was turning away and walking over to a man standing behind a console.

"Ensign, do we have the coordinates?"

"Yes, sir. It's not far, sir," responded the man in nervous but professional tones.

"Then get us there." The bridge came alive with activity then as though time had been frozen and suddenly started up again. Looking around, Glailen almost felt like he had been forgotten but for the occasional stare he received. It made sense, he was Sith after all and his presence would make people nervous. Other than that, he was also the reason the Black Talon may not survive the next couple of hours. That was something he and everyone else had to work with.

Before long Glailen's attention returned to where Orvik stood, straight and unyielding, offering unspoken strength to the crew who saw him. At that moment he was having whispered words with Lieutenant Sylas. The lieutenant was working on a datapad at the same time. Somehow Glailen knew she was taking stock of the damage caused by his rampage through the ship. After a few moments, Sylas caught Glailen watching them. She excused herself from the captain and began walking towards Glailen, though he could see she intended to pass him without a word. Swallowing hard, Glailen interposed himself in the lieutenant's path, forcing her to stop abruptly.

"What was his name? The trooper who died." The lieutenant stared at him. Not quite glaring but certainly not friendly either. He couldn't blame her.

"Why do you care, my Lord?" passionless words that managed to bite. An effective way of communicating to a superior. Under different circumstances Glailen would have been impressed enough to say so. At the moment he wanted one thing.

"I care," stated Glailen firmly. Sylas' eyes narrowed with suspicion. She must have seen something in Glailen's expression for she relented – or perhaps she wasn't truly ready to refuse a request from a Sith.

"Private Tor Askor. Showed himself to be a first-rate soldier in the three months I knew him but he often requested transfer to a more 'exciting' posting. Captain Orvik recently agreed." Lieutenant Sylas spoke bluntly and her words struck Glailen as such. The muscles of his jaw strained as he pressed his mouth closed, afraid of what he would say otherwise. Sylas must have seen him struggling as she paused but whether it was out of pity or to what him squirm, Glailen couldn't say.

"The run to Dromund Kaas," resumed the lieutenant, "was to be his final mission aboard the Black Talon." Glailen found he had to look away, unable to meet Sylas' judging gaze anymore.

"Is that all, my Lord?"

"Yes. That's all."

Lieutenant Sylas went about her business leaving Glailen with his thoughts. He wasn't alone for long as Vette joined him, however one look at the Sith and she opted not to say anything. Glailen was glad as he was not in the mood for talking. Still, it was good to have someone close whom he felt he could trust.

Enough with the self-pity, Glailen. Focus on ensuring Private Askor – and whoever comes next – didn't die for nothing. Get the job done. Regulating his breathing, Glailen knelt on the floor to meditate. He would not fail.

Deep in meditation, Glailen lost sense of time. Every sound and movement around him was blocked out. His only purpose was in preparing for the coming battle as a warrior should. Intune with the Force, Glailen knew when the ensign was going to speak before he opened his mouth.

"Coming out of lightspeed – now."

The Imperial ship dropped out of lightspeed and that was when Glailen opened his eyes. He quickly got to his feet as the tension on the bridge reached its peak. Along with everyone else, he looked out into the depths of space to get an idea of what they faced. A vessel floated in the distance and grew larger as the Black Talon rushed closer to take advantage of its surprise appearance. He walked closer to the transparisteel as though a few meters would allow him to make out important details.

It didn't take long for someone on the other ship to look out a window.

"Republic cruiser spotted. It's opening fire on us!" A second later large streaks of energy sped past the Black Talon. Whoever was operating the weapons on the other ship had either panicked and fired too soon or they were giving off warning shots. With the Republic it was an even bet either way. There was no retreat though; the Black Talon could only go forward.

"Then fire back," ordered Captain Orvik, "and keep us moving. Don't give them an easy target." Glailen watched with satisfaction as the armament aboard the Black Talon – limited though it was – took up a barrage on the enemy vessel. Moments later the Talon was rocked, indicating the Republic was ready to fight. Orvik looked over at his Sith passenger.

"My Lord?" prompted the captain. Glailen shared a look with Orvik and Sylas before nodding agreement. He began to turn away.

"Sir, we're being hailed!" called the ensign. Glailen paused and turned back.

"It's a Republic signal," the ensign continued, "but it's not from the Brentaal Star."

"Put it through, Ensign," replied Captain Orvik, his tone indicating it was of no real concern. Seconds later a holoimage appeared of a woman in her later years. Glailen's eyes widened and he found himself walking closer to where the image hovered. She was beautiful, yes, but what drew Glailen was how she held herself. Confidence, wisdom, power, all these things radiated from her and the respect her presence commanded. It was clear to Glailen that he was looking at a Jedi but no ordinary one. A master perhaps? Yes, she had to be.

"Greetings, I am Satele Shan, Grand Master of the Jedi Order." Glailen felt his mouth go dry. Before him was the pinnacle of Jedi strength and he a lowly apprentice. It was certainly an interesting day.

"The Brentaal Star and those aboard it are under my protection," she continued, "I am offering you this opportunity to stand down and leave before further blood is spilled."

"Ensign, where is this signal coming from?" asked Captain Orvik, keeping the alarm from his voice. If they were about to be the victims of an ambush then their gamble would be coming to a quick conclusion. The ensign did a quick once over of their station before responding.

"As best I can see the ship is an hour away…maybe less." Orvik nodded, more to himself than anything, before returning his attention to the daunting Jedi image.

"It looks like you're not in a position to make requests, Master Shan." Satele looked patiently upon Orvik as though he were an unruly child.

"I am on my way with six Republic cruisers. We just finished crippling several Imperial Star Destroyers. This is not a fight you want."

"Perhaps not," said Glailen, entering the conversation, "but it is one we must have – that is, if you get here in time." Those Jedi eyes locked on Glailen and he felt himself being scrutinized more intensely than he had ever been on Korriban. He felt almost nervous that he wouldn't measure up. It was ridiculous. She was the enemy and represented everything he hated. Why should he care whether she approved of him or not?

"Sith." A one-word statement that spoke volumes. There was no malice behind the word as Glailen would have expected. Merely an acknowledgement that a new piece had entered the game. Glailen nodded his head in greeting.

"The Brentaal Star is more than capable of lasting long enough for our arrival. For the sakes of yourselves and those aboard your vessel, stand down. Leave. Do you really want to throw your lives away?" It didn't take long for Glailen to think over what Satele had to say. It was, after all, something he had already needed to come to terms with.

"I wouldn't back down even if we could, Grand Master. Traitors must answer for their crimes." Shan's eyes narrowed slightly, the first and only indication of her displeasure.

"If that is your decision then may the Force forgive you." The transmission ended. Glailen spun around and marched with a new sense of urgency.

"I'm going but get us closer," he called to Orvik,

"Good luck over there," responded the captain.

---

Vette leaned against a terminal to keep her balance as the ship shuddered from another hit. At least the shields were holding. She assumed they were holding, anyway. No one was screaming that the hull had been breached so that was good. But really, being in this situation didn't land anywhere on her good things graph. Yet here she was hoping that an Imperial cargo ship and its crew could outclass and beat a Republic cruiser. Not something she expected a week ago. The difference a few days could make in one's life was crazy.

She caught sight of Glailen walking towards her. It was odd, the worry that came over her, like when her mom would catch her doing something she wasn't supposed to. This was quite a bit more serious, of course. Glailen was going to tell her it was time to fly through space, dodging fire from both ships, and board a hostile vessel. Yeah, right, she was looking forward to that. At least over there she wouldn't have to keep her blasters on stun. Realizing she was still holding onto the terminal, Vetter pushed away to straighten up, clearing her throat at the same time.

"Guess we're going over there next?" she asked and fully expecting a grim nod in response. To her surprise, however, Glailen was shaking his head.

"I'm going over. You're staying here."

"What? Think I can't handle a little life or death danger?" Vette hoped she managed to hide the immense relief she felt by focusing on all the confusion instead.

"We don't have a lot of time. I'll have to move fast and can't risk losing you in that mess." Practical and considerate, the statement caught Vette off-guard. Part of her wanted to thank Glailen for not being crazy enough to drag her along…but part of her also didn't feel right letting him go alone. Still, she couldn't argue with his reasoning. Maybe I really did make a good choice sticking with him.

"Besides," continued Glailen, looking back at the Talon's commanding officers, "I need someone here to make sure the ship doesn't leave without me." Suddenly Vette was no longer sure she wanted to stay behind. If things turned sour over here then how was she supposed to keep things together? Even so, she had to admit she'd rather be in her position than Glailen's.

"You're the boss, boss," agreed Vette with a mock salute. Glailen studied her a moment before marching past without another word. Vette bit her lip as her thoughts raced. She couldn't leave things at that.

"Hey," Vette called as she whipped around. The Sith stopped and turned to her.

"Don't die over there, yeah? I don't want to have to explain to your boss why you missed your meeting." A moment passed before Glailen nodded with meaning and left. Vette watched him until he disappeared from sight then turned to the battle unfolding before her. She looked around and settled for standing in place, arms crossed, pretending not to be at all worried about whether or not she would get a last meal.

---

The doors to the lift slid open revealing the landing bay for the Black Talon. A few shuttles occupied the hanger but Glailen guessed the one that would carry him had the Imperial troopers stationed by it. As he moved towards the shuttle a trio of the troopers broke off to meet with him. One bore the marks of a sergeant and it was this one who took the lead.

"My Lord, I'm Sergeant Waltz, 133rd Marines. Captain Orvik is sending my squad over with you to hold the landing bay until you return. You get the package and we'll make sure you have a ride home." Glailen was pleasantly surprised that the captain had taken the initiative to ensure Glailen didn't go alone. If he were being honest, Glailen didn't think the Black Talon had any bodies it could spare but he wouldn't argue with something that increased his chances of success.

"Good to hear it, Sergeant. Let's get to it." The group marched over to the shuttle and boarded it two at a time. As the six marines took their seats, Glailen went up to the hatch connecting to the cockpit. Two pilots sat inside preparing for launch. So focused on their tasks were the pilots that they didn't notice a Sith watching over them. It was only when the shuttle began to lift off did they finally realize they weren't alone but they recovered quickly. Glailen liked that. Working with professionals was what he wanted.

Flying out into the void of space, the shuttle's journey nearly ended right away as it barely avoided a blast that struck the Talon's shields. The lead pilot didn't stop to mention their good luck but instead immediately shifted into evasive action as the second pilot relayed relevant information. They were moving fast but they still had a fair distance to cover before they reached the Brentaal Star. Glailen knew there was little he could do but he could keep an eye out for threats. Infused with the Force, his senses were sharper than those of a regular person. Still, his life and that of the marines were in the hands of the pilots. They were soldiers one and all, however, and trusting others to do their jobs was part of the life.

Through the front viewport Glailen could make out the battle taking place and not just by the two large ships. Here and there he saw smaller vessels speeding along, some engaged with each other. It made sense that the Brentaal Star would carry fighters but Glailen had hoped they were all destroyed during the previous confrontation the Republic cruiser had been in. As things were, he considered it lucky that the Black Talon had a contingent of its own fighters at all. Whichever side won the dogfighting would gain the clear advantage – unless the winning side lost so much that it no longer posed a real threat. That wasn't Glailen's concern and in fact would likely have little impact on how things ultimately played out. If he could board the Brentaal Star then he could do some real damage if necessary. The Sith's hand drifted to his lightsaber at the thought. Of course, everything was secondary to the capture of the general.

"Those aren't fighters." Blinking, Glailen realized he had become distracted by his thoughts. The comment by one of the pilots pulled him back just in time to notice what they were referring to. A couple of ships larger than fighters shot pass the Imperial shuttle. It didn't take long for everyone to come to the same conclusion on what they'd seen. Republic shuttles were on their way to the Black Talon.

"Looks like the Republic had the same idea."

"Alert the Black Talon," ordered Glailen.

"Yes, Sir." It was likely the Talon's sensors would pick up the enemy vessels but it didn't hurt to be safe. On the topic of safety, Glailen's thoughts returned to how his concentration had drifted earlier. Such a lapse could easily prove fatal and Glailen wanted to scold himself for it, though he was worried the cause was the deep exhaustion he was struggling to hold back. Once he was moving and fighting, he would be able to stay alert or so he hoped.

As they got close to the Brentaal Star, Glailen spotted the entrance to their hanger. One that was likely close to empty with all their fighters deployed.

"There! Get us in there!" On Glailen's order the pilot shifted the direction of the shuttle to make a direct approach for the opening. Once they landed it would be up to the marines and their accompanying Sith to do the rest. Glailen knew he was ready and he could sense the same could be said about the marines as he turned to join them in the carriage.

Glailen stood among the seated marines, holding onto one of the straps descending from the roof to aid in balance. The shuttle rocked and lurched as it made its approach. Guns would be placed close to the hanger entrance to defend against the exact thing the shuttle was doing. Red light bathed the interior and everyone braced themselves against any sudden impacts. Tense seconds passed. Glailen could sense the worry among the marines but they were disciplined enough to appear calm and collected. Their faith in the pilots would be rewarded as well as the red light vanished and was replaced with green.

Suddenly everyone was on their feet and facing the back hatch. Weapons were poised at the ready as Sergeant Waltz faced his squad.

"Weapons free, people!" he called just before hitting the switch to open the hatch.

Glailen leapt through the hatch, igniting his lightsaber as he went, and landed at the bottom of the ramp. Blaster fire eagerly greeted him and he welcomed it. As he hoped the Republic forces focused their attack at the Sith appearing before them instead of at anyone else who came out of the shuttle. The marines followed quickly and could easily begin picking off the opposition that had carelessly given away their positions. Glailen held his ground, deflecting any bolts that came too close until he saw the marines were settled into their own cover; he then burst into motion. With great speed he struck for the enemy to his right. They had a makeshift barricade for defense but it proved ineffective against a Sith who could leap over it without much effort.

The Sith descended upon the Republic soldiers with his weapon striking relentless and precise. There was no need for him to hold back here and he had no issue with killing the enemies of the Empire. With great satisfaction Glailen impaled a soldier on his lightsaber but immediately retracted the weapon in order to cross-slash another on his left. He spun with the slash to face another trooper who stood further away and aware of the dire threat. Blaster bolts flew dangerously close to Glailen but he managed to deflect anything that would have hit their mark. As he did so he sprinted closer too quickly for the soldier to properly react. The Republic trooper attempted to back pedal but tripped over himself in his haste. He hadn't even hit the floor before Glailen's blade carved across his chest. Looking around at the skirmish – one already won with the marines' efforts – the thought that he was becoming at least decent at blaster deflection crossed Glailen's mind. There would be time for further reflection later though, at the moment Glailen looked for Waltz and found the man easily enough.

"Keep your squad safe, Sergeant," he called to the marine.

"I will and don't worry, we'll still be here when you get back." Nodding acceptance, Glailen got his bearings and headed off in search of a lift. When he caught sight of one, he sprinted towards it. Time was, as it always seemed to be, against him.

Approaching the lift, Glailen became aware of a threat through the Force. He threw out a hand even as the doors to the lift opened. The Force blast threw the four Republic soldiers inside back to collide with the walls and each other, stunning and confusing them. An instant later and Glailen was in the elevator and slamming a fist into the control panel. Silent doors slid shut locking the five occupants of the lift inside. The screams that followed were short lived.

---

Did Vette have a nervous tick? Yes, she readily admitted it. However, at the moment, if she were honest, she would have to say she had three. Tapping a foot, chewing on a thumb and drumming the fingers of her other hand all helped her deal with the stress pushing against her skull. It probably didn't help that she was standing on the bridge of the Black Talon and therefore heard whenever something bad was happening like the shields losing power or Republic shuttles landing in the hanger. At the same time, she couldn't imagine walking away from everything she was seeing. Like everyone else who ever had access to holovids, she had watched her share of action flicks but now she was living one. Whether she was on the bridge or not had no bearing on if the Talon was destroyed and her along with it, so why not take in the view?

"Captain, welcome party efforts have failed, I'm getting reports of Republic commandos pushing through the ship!" Vette squeezed her eyes shut. Of course, if the Republic took control of the Black Talon, then things would be different. Would they kill everyone on board? Not likely, just whoever fought back. That raised its own question; should she fight back? She certainly didn't mind the Empire being embarrassed by the Republic stealing one of their ships but did she owe it to Glailen to make sure that didn't happen? Gingerly Vette opened her eyes. He did tell me to make sure he had a ship to come back to.

"Lieutenant Sylas," intoned Orvik, "care to inform our guests that we are not accepting visitors at this time?"

"Gladly, Sir." As the lieutenant made a sharp turn around, Vette wondered at how the two Imperial officers were able to remain so calm, even nonchalant, given the situation.

They're clearly made for this sort of thing – unlike me. That's fine. Let them handle everything and I'll continue pretending I belong here. They absolutely do not need my help. I would just get in the way. Let's face it, I would probably just die some dumb, obvious death. They're professionals and they do not need me cramping their style.

Obviously.

Vette let out a defeated groan.

"Hold up," she called, "I'm coming too." Lieutenant Sylas stopped and stared back at Vette with those ever-disapproving eyes that probably didn't remember what it was like to be happy. Or less judgey. Vette swallowed hard but held her ground.

"Maybe you should stay here and make sure we don't double-cross your Sith. I'm sure he wouldn't be pleased to find we got his twi'lek damaged." Vette bristled at the comment and all it implied. Suddenly she forgot all about her fear and apprehension, glaring back at the Imp officer.

"Don't give me that; you need help and you know it!" Vette wasn't afraid of raising her voice or letting the other woman know how angry she was but neither seemed to impress Sylas at all.

"Not going to hap–"

"Take her with you, Lieutenant," cut in Orvik from where he watched the battle. Both women looked at the captain in surprise – or, in Sylas' case, a close approximation of it. The lieutenant looked about to protest but Orvik spoke over her.

"This is not a day for being picky with our recruitment criteria. All hands-on deck." Sylas' expression well and truly soured, showing the most emotion Vette had seen from her. For a moment Vette thinks the argument isn't over as Sylas stares at Orvik but finally she turns her gaze to Vette and it's apparent she's relented. For some reason Vette can't get excited over winning an argument to go risk her life.

"Keep up or get left behind," commanded the lieutenant.

"Yeah, yeah," grumbled Vette, "I know the drill."

---

With the Force at his command, Glailen was able to move with great speed through the halls of the Republic cruiser. Having taken the lift as high as it would go, he now searched for the bridge. It was the likeliest place he could think of to begin his search, for even if his target wasn't there, he could still cause a great deal of damage. Actually, finding what he was looking for wasn't an easy task though. He considered interrogating one of the ship's crew but it could take precious time and allow security to close in on him. As things were, he dispatched anyone he came upon as quickly as he could; at times speeding past Pubs and cutting them down before they knew he was there. Not all of his encounters went so well, however, and required more attention. There remained an inability for the Republic to organize a response to him though, and not just due to the speed he moved through the halls. With the battle raging it was difficult for information to be coordinated and from what Glailen could see the ship had already sustained a great deal of damage that was not due to the Black Talon.

After a few turns, Glailen came upon a rectangular room. It wasn't the bridge but a quick look around and he was convinced it was integral to the ship's operation. A command center of sorts. There were many computers with crew stationed at them, receiving and relaying information through headsets. Naturally, in such an important room, there were guards positioned throughout. It didn't take long for one to notice the intruder in their midst and begin to alert their fellows. Glailen didn't spend more than a couple of seconds surveying the room before he was moving again, this time to eliminate the threats. Blaster fire rang through the room, screams followed quickly as the technicians began abandoning their stations. Glailen moved from one target to the next with quick efficiency. His blade was indiscriminate, striking down those who were armed and those who weren't, though the guards were what he aimed for. Anyone who got in his way needed to be removed, however, before they could slow him down and if it created chaos in the process that only worked to his advantage.

A guard was firing hastily aimed shots at Glailen who was able to zigzag across the space between them to cut down the soldier. To his left, a couple meters away, was another guard being more patient with his shot but between them and Glailen was a technician who hadn't run for the doors. As Glailen turned towards them they threw up their hands in surrender but the Sith's lightsaber was already moving, cutting through their fragile flesh. Glailen moved around the falling body to make for his true target. It was at that moment the guard fired and instinctively Glailen blocked the bolt. By luck it flew back at the soldier, striking them in the abdomen. With that trooper no longer a threat, Glailen spun to his left in search of his next victim. At the far end of the room was a computer terminal – the biggest in the room – being operated by a large mon calamari. They weren't a technician by the armour they wore but were ignoring the fighting even so. Perhaps confident the four remaining guards would be enough to stop Glailen. If so, they were mistaken. As Glailen shot forward he started to hear the mon calamari speaking with someone.

"We've taken too much damage," he was saying as Glailen ran his lightsaber through a guard, "our only hope is for reinforcements to arrive in time. The escape pods should buy you enough time."

Another guard fell to a deflected bolt as Glailen rolled across the floor and severed the leg of the third. When the soldier hit the floor Glailen slashed his blade along their chest. Still the mon calamari did not turn to the fighting though he surely could hear the sound of his comrades dying. Whoever they were speaking with must have been quite important.

"But–"

"No time to argue," he said, cutting off the person on the other end of the line, "too much is at stake! Go while you still can and don't look back – may the Force be with you. Commander Gall out."

The final guard hadn't yet hit the floor as Glailen came up behind the mon calamari, lightsaber leading to impale the Pub from behind. Seemingly at the last instant Gall sidestepped and Glailen struck only the terminal. Before Glailen could react, the Republic commander slammed his forearm into the Sith's face. Dazed, Glailen was unprepared for the vibroblade that pounded at his defences, nor the boot that buried itself in his gut. He crumpled around the hit, losing his grip on his weapon in the process, and dropped back to the floor.

"Arrogance!" shouted the mon calamari as Glailen sat up with some desperation. Commander Gall advanced quickly and threw a kick to Glailen's jaw, rocking him and throwing him back to the floor. He didn't stay down though as the seriousness of the situation set in and he pushed himself to his feet.

"Did you really think it would be that easy?" Glailen couldn't respond to the accusation as he was more concerned with catching the swinging vibroblade. He moved in close, trying to control Gall's wrists, but the Republic commander smashed his forehead into Glailen's nose, stunning the Sith, before kicking at a leg. By cruel fate or bad luck, Gall hit where Glailen was wounded. Glailen dropped to a knee with a howl of pain, losing hold of his opponent in the process. Commander Gall loomed over him.

"You're not the first Sith I've fought and you won't be the last!" As Gall raised his vibroblade for the final blow, he left himself open. In a flash, Glailen summoned his lightsaber and swung it to sever both of his opponent's arms. Before the mon calamari could scream, the crimson blade slashed again, this time removing head from shoulders. The remainder of Gall began falling forward but Glailen rose to his feet and pushed the body aside.

That fight had been too close for Glailen's liking and he understood an important factor had been the fact he was near his physical limit. He was relying more and more on the Force to give him the strength necessary to continue but that just meant when he lost focus, he was more vulnerable. He needed to finish the mission as soon as possible but that was easier said. Glailen thought back to the conversation Gall had been so involved with. He was willing to bet Gall had been advising the general to take one of the escape pods, if not to actually escape then to stall for time. That couldn't be allowed but he didn't know where to look and with little time he couldn't run around the whole ship.

Glailen glanced at the terminal Gall had been using; it was damaged from his failed attack but appeared to still be working. He tried a few keys and before long his hopes were rewarded as a schematic of the Brentaal Star came up on the screen. Better still, his datawatch was able to connect and download the map. Something close to relief flooded Glailen's body as he realized he was not yet beaten.

---

It was a dumb idea and Vette knew it. Going along with Sylas to fight the Republic commandos had been a dumb decision. She knew it on the bridge and she knew it now as she huddled behind some containers, trying not to get shot. That wasn't to say the Imperials hadn't done well for themselves. The boarders had been pushed back all the way to their shuttles but behind makeshift barricades they refused to be dislodged. Blaster fire was endlessly exchanged across the hanger. The Imps attacked relentlessly but the Pubs stubbornly refused to lose. How long had they been stuck here? Vette couldn't say but she knew she was sick of the firefight.

Glancing to the left – on her right was a large shipping container, four meters tall, acting as a wall – down the low row of containers the Imps were using for cover, Vette spotted Sylas. She didn't seem to have any problem with the situation, fighting hard to win and encouraging her troops to do the same. That was fine in Vette's mind; Lieutenant Sylas could take all the action for all she cared. Vette was content to remain hidden and not ashamed of it either. She had fought just as hard as they had to clear the halls and figured she deserved a break from almost dying. Besides, the outcome was inevitable.

Daring a peek, Vette looked over at the Republic position and counted three standing, one of which was a battledroid. A quick head count showed the Imperials had nine. Numbers would surely tell.

Wait.

Vette looked back at the Pubs with sudden confusion. She remembered seeing a nautolan among the Republic forces and she hadn't seen him fall. Had he snuck away or boarded the shuttle…?

A large shape dropped down in front of Vette. She stifled a cry by biting down on her sleeve. It was the nautolan, larger up close, and he carried a vibroblade. He advanced on the Imperials – he hadn't seen Vette huddled up in the corner. Neither had the Imps noticed his entrance.

"For the Republic!" he cried as he swung his weapon at the first trooper. They died with a scream that was cut short. The next trooper was alerted by the sound but couldn't turn fast enough before that vibroblade struck them as well. Sylas was next and already aiming at the attacker but the nautolan was aware and smart, kicking the second trooper into her before death made the body go limp. Knocked to the ground and momentarily trapped, Sylas was easy prey.

Vette watched with wide eyes, struggling with fear and shock. No one else had noticed what was happening, they were too far away and focused on the fight. Sylas was about to die as the nautolan raised his weapon.

Lifting her blasters, Vette fired off a quick burst. Two, three, bolts struck the nautolan in the back. He collapsed forward where Sylas was trapped under one of her troopers. Vette gaped, wondering if she'd just killed the lieutenant while trying to save her. There was no movement for long moments. Suddenly the nautolan's body shifted and fell to the side. Sylas stuck out a hand and pushed herself free. Hair a mess, she looked disheveled and not at all amused as she looked over at Vette. For a second, Vette wonders if she made the right choice saving the other woman.

"Well done."

Vette blinks in surprise. She didn't think Sylas was capable of gratitude, certainly not to someone who helped capture her ship. The statement did sound genuine though.

"Thanks," she responded shakily. Sylas offered a nod before getting to her feet and returning to the fight. After a couple of relatively calming breaths, Vette found her nerve and joined her, adding her two blasters to the fight. It was eight against three.

Numbers would surely tell.

---

Stumbling, breathing hard, Glailen walked through the hall. How many bodies lay behind him? How many had he left in his wake as he rampaged through the ship? It didn't matter. What mattered is each one added up against him. Time and energy used to deal with obstacles. He couldn't go much further. At least, he didn't think he could. But he had to. Glailen sighed with frustration at the concentration it took to keep moving forward. He walked over to a wall and leaned against it, deciding to consult his datawatch. Not because he wanted a rest. That was not the reason.

He looked up and down the hall before studying the map on his datawatch. He glanced down the hall once more and then returned to the map. Excitement coursed through him as he looked away from his watch and focused on a door at the end of the hall. That was the way and he was almost there. All he had to do was go through the door, take a left, and he would be at the pod bay. Lurching away from the wall, Glailen broke into a jog heading for the open doorway. Maybe he could still make it; capture the general, get back to the Black Talon and finally get some much-needed rest. The thought of such a thing almost brought a smile to his face. As the doorway came closer Glailen sped up with anticipation.

The doors suddenly slid shut just before he could pass through. Glailen stepped back with shock and indignation that he should be denied. Rage welled up inside of him until he couldn't take it anymore. All that rage was focused and unleashed as Glailen screamed and thrust out a hand, using the Force to blow the doors inward. Part of him was surprised by how effective the move had been, he had acted on instinct only, but he was more interested in what lay on the other side of the doorway. Every second wasted gave the general time to flee in an escape pod. If that happened then everything would be for nothing.

That could not be allowed.

With that in mind Glailen walked through the wreckage and looked around. Then he saw him. Perhaps fifty feet away stood an old man, bent over with an injury, and who was staring over at Glailen. The general had been located. It wasn't the fear in the man's eyes that convinced Glailen he had found his target; it was the understanding. Seeing the success of his mission within reach, Glailen sprinted toward the general who stumbled back helplessly. Glailen could only take five strides before he was forced back to reality.

An invisible wall rushed up to meet the Sith in mid-stride, lifting him up and throwing him back the way he'd came. Glailen slid to a stop on the floor. He sat up with a shocked expression he wasn't aware he wore. Too distracted was he with the cloaked twi'lek female interposing herself between Glailen and the general. They spoke hushed words with the general, which Glailen didn't think he would have heard even had they been close enough. His attention was on the lightsaber the twi'lek produced from their robe. Glailen's eyes widened as the woman turned her gaze from the general to him. There was no mistaking who, or rather what, he was staring at. As the general began hobbling off, the twi'lek ignited her lightsaber. An emerald beam erupted from the hilt, which she held before her in a battle stance.

"I am Yadira Ban of the Jedi Order," she announced, "and by my word as a Jedi, you will go no further, Sith!"

A smile spread across Glailen's lips. Energy suddenly flooded his weary limbs. He rolled back and sprung to his feet before igniting his own lightsaber. A Jedi. The thought made him ecstatic. After everything that had happened this day, everything that had been sacrificed, he felt like he was being granted a gift. This was not a new story to the galaxy. No, it was one that had been told countless times and would be told again countless times. Here and now, however, it was his turn to place his mark on the tale. Sith versus Jedi. An unending conflict for supremacy. Of the galaxy, yes, but more importantly of the Force.

A chance for revenge.

Someone was laughing. Glailen realized it was him. Yes, he had been waiting for this moment.

He charged.

Their blades clashed together. Yadira gasped at the strain. Glailen was quite a bit larger than her and he intended to use the advantage fully. The twi'lek's eyes widened as he began pushing her back. Perhaps she hadn't expected his strength or how he rushed into the fight or, maybe, she could sense that Glailen was enjoying himself. Not much could make Glailen feel happy anymore and he would be the first to admit that but this was something he had always hoped would be different. Thus far it was proving to be.

With a push of her own, Yadira shoved aside Glailen's lightsaber and moved to go on the offensive. Glailen welcomed the attempt. It was short-lived as the Sith easily countered a couple of strikes before resuming his own attack, although this time he didn't resort to a test of strength. One strike after another he threw at the twi'lek in a flurry of ferocious blows. She stood her ground as best she could but it was written plain on her face that it was all she could do to keep up with her opponent. Almost effortlessly Glailen caught her lightsaber on his own and twisted it aside, giving him an opening to deliver a backhand blow across her face. She stumbled back. Glailen watched with satisfaction as she spat blood onto the floor, then he was relieved when she straightened up and stood her ground. He had been worried she would flee after first blood. Glailen stalked towards her and again their blades met in a flash of light. They stayed together for only a second before both combatants began attacking, defending, counter-attacking, searching for an opening to exploit.

Before long Glailen began to realize something about his opponent. Yadira Ban was at her limit. She was doing everything she could to keep up with Glailen and somehow turn the tide of the fight but it was proving not enough. Already she was forced to defend more and more and could be seen breathing hard while Glailen still felt relatively fresh. In fact, he couldn't help but feel he could end the fight whenever he wished. Glailen had taken the measure of the Jedi before him and found them wanting. He was fairly certain of why as well. Without warning, Glailen caught his opponent's lightsaber, just as he had before, and stepped in close before driving his forehead against the twi'lek's. In the moment that she was stunned he grabbed her wrist and gave it a sharp twist and her grip on her lightsaber was lost. She cried out from the pain but that cry was cut short as Glailen delivered a sharp kick to her gut that threw her to the ground. Yadira didn't stay down, however, using the momentum to roll back into a crouch. One hand held her stomach protectively but the other was outstretched, using the Force to retrieve her lost lightsaber. Glailen had expected as much and slashed his lightsaber through the air, carving the Jedi's weapon in two, without taking his eyes from his foe. He saw the precise moment Yadira Ban lost hope. The strength faded from her and she dropped her head. Glailen stepped closer until he stood over her.

"You're only a padawan, aren't you?" It had been intended as a question but it sounded more like an accusation to Glailen's ears.

"Yes…" The word was ground out through clenched teeth. Glailen looked away – not at anything in particular – as he worked through his thoughts. He looked back at the twi'lek and gave a slight shake of his head.

"A waste."

Glailen raised his lightsaber to deliver the final blow but as he did Yadira threw out both hands and suddenly Glailen was thrown back down the pod bay. He landed heavily, dazed, but quickly got back to his feet in a defensive pose. His eyes found Yadira and she was back on her feet; slouched but standing. More importantly, defiance and the will to fight had returned to her features. She didn't say anything, only stared back at him as though daring him to try again. Unsurprisingly Glailen decided to oblige. He rushed forward with a howl, the Force granting him strength to move faster than a normal being. Yadira Ban also had the Force on her side though, she reacted quickly and sent another powerful wave of the Force against Glailen. The Sith was ready this time and managed to remain standing against the blast. Even still he was forced back half the distance he had gained. That didn't matter as Glailen glared back at the Jedi. He charged again. Propelled by the Force he was able to strike across the distance quickly but not before Yadira sent another blast against him. This time he skidded to a stop but was not forced back. He didn't wait before rushing forward. Again, the Jedi tried using the Force to stop him but Glailen's power was growing and this time he pushed right through the attack while barely slowing. A seed of panic sprouted within Yadira but her discipline kept it small even as she saw defeat as a certainty.

As a last resort she used the Force to lift pieces of debris from around her to use as projectiles. The effort was too great for her to act swiftly. Glailen saw the threat and threw out a hand, sending a powerful Force blast of his own at the Jedi. Yadira was thrown back until she struck a stack of containers several meters away. With a final surge Glailen dashed across the floor with his lightsaber leading to impale his opponent. The Jedi was still dazed when Glailen's lightsaber struck. She was not too dazed to fall on her side. The lightsaber buried itself in the container Yadira had been leaning against a heartbeat earlier. Glailen turned his glare on the twi'lek, saw how fear had all but overtaken her. She tried to crawl away but Glailen was quick, snatching at her ankle and pulling her closer before switching to her throat. Yadira struggled against his grip but she was weakened and he too strong. Glailen lifted his opponent to their knees while raising his lightsaber high for the final blow.

"Wait, Sith! Do not harm her!" Glailen's head snapped to the side to find the general hadn't gone far after all; or perhaps some thoughts of guilt had compelled him to return. Yadira saw the same thing and her fight to free herself became more panicked.

"No–!" she croaked around Glailen's iron grasp.

"You're not in a position to be giving orders, general," growled the Sith. First denied combat with a true Jedi and now a traitor trying to tell him what to do? His hold on the twi'lek's throat tightened.

"Allow the Jedi to live and I will go with you willingly."

"You say that as though I would have a difficult time controlling an injured, fat, old man," snapped Glailen in retort. The general's mouth became a thin white line but he didn't rise to the taunt.

"Please," he said simply.

Glailen watched the older man with contempt and frustration. He didn't want to give a traitor anything but at the same time his words resonated within the Sith. For years all Glailen wanted was to kill Jedi and now that he had one literally within his grasp, he found it…distasteful. Yadira Ban was, after all, not a true Jedi. Not yet. Arguably she was a victim of the Jedi as Glailen had been. The crime done unto her being brainwashing. Perhaps one day he would be her end but today…

"I accept your offer." Glailen released his hold and Yadira fell to the floor, choking for air. Through ragged breaths she tried to speak.

"You can't…go with him!"

"I'm sorry, my dear," said the general with a pained smile, "but we have to accept the hopelessness of the situation. We have lost but there's no point in you dying because of it. You can live on."

"Let's go." Without further coaxing, the general shuffled over and even continued past Glailen without the Sith needing to lead the way. The general may have been a traitor but his word was good. Once an Imperial, always, thought Glailen as he moved to join the other man.

"I'll never forget this, Sith. I'll never forget you." Pausing, Glailen looked back at the twi'lek Jedi struggling to her feet. She had to lean against one of the nearby containers to do it but even in her current state she didn't temper the heat in her words. Glailen arched an eyebrow at the comment.

"That sounds like a threat. Not very Jedi-like." Feeling suddenly inspired by his own words and Yadira's silent glare, Glailen turned and walked over to his beaten opponent. He could sense the worry spike within the general but wisely the man held his tongue. Glailen stopped close enough that he could strike the Jedi down with his lightsaber without taking another step. She no doubt noticed as much as well.

"Am I really the one you should be angry with? I spared your life and it was an Imperial – regardless of their allegiance – who argued for it."

"None of this would have happened if you hadn't attacked us," argued Yadira, standing her ground defiantly.

"Of course, I attacked you – he's a defector trying to give away military secrets and where I'm from that's called treason!" As Glailen spoke, his words gained emphasis. Perhaps that was why the Jedi offered no immediate retort. Or perhaps she just didn't have one.

"No, what you should be thinking about is how the Republic and the Jedi thought that such a high-value target in a high-risk situation didn't warrant more than a padawan for protection. A padawan who was clearly not ready for this fight, I might add." Glailen could sense how his words had shaken Yadira but still she tried to argue the point.

"They trusted me–"

"No," Glailen cut in with authority, "you trusted them and they betrayed that trust! You were going to die here and had I been any other Sith in the galaxy you likely would have. All because those you serve couldn't be bothered to assign at least a knight to this mission." Now Yadira said nothing and was even forced to look away from the intensity of Glailen's stare. He felt pity for her.

"Where even is your master?"

There was no answer given to Glailen's question. Yadira Ban was beaten physically and mentally. At least for the day. Feeling he had made his point he turned and walked over to the general and the two of them resumed their march. Over his should he offered a final remark.

"Maybe you should ask them why you were left at the mercy of a Sith."

Using the schematics for the ship he had acquired it was easy for Glailen to find a relatively quick path back to the flight deck where his ship was waiting. The marines that had come along were also still there and breathing. By the looks of things, they hadn't received any visitors since he left them. Guess we can't all have an exciting day. Sergeant Waltz walked moved to meet Glailen.

"It looks like you were successful, my Lord," stated the sergeant. Glailen nodded as he shoved the general towards a pair of additional marines.

"I was. Put restraints on this traitor and let's get back to the ship. This battle is done."

"Sounds good to me, my Lord." The party piled into the ship and moments later left the Brentaal Star. Both sides seemed aware that the battle was truly over as ships were no longer exchanging fire. That made the trip much smoother to the point where Glailen nearly fell asleep in his seat despite how sore he felt all over.

"You hate me. I understand." Frowning, Glailen refused to open his resting eyes to look at the general seated across from him.

"Good," he growled.

"I had to do it. Do you want to know why?"

"Not really, no." Glailen hoped the exasperation in his tone would prevent the general from making any more comments.

"Because the next war will destroy us all." Struggling with disappointment and the urge it brought to strangle the other man, Glailen reluctantly opened his eyes. The previous urge died away upon looking at the general. He had never seen a more perfect portrait of a man who has given up. This wasn't a traitor's pleas for forgiveness; it was a dead man's last gasp.

"You have no idea what both sides are planning. I couldn't stand by and allow it to happen. My only hope was to shift the balance of power so neither side would risk open war again. At least not for many more years."

"War is inevitable. We're just too different, us and them," said Glailen though he wasn't sure why. There was no need for him to justify himself to a traitor. The general offered the ghost of a smile, almost pitying.

"What makes war inevitable are thoughts like that." Glailen considered a retort but let it, and the conversation, die away. He was too tired to argue with someone who was set in their way.

Before long the shuttle reached the Black Talon and landed safely inside. The marines began filing out, taking the general with them, as Glailen lingered in his seat. He seriously considered remaining there for at least a power nap but determined it simply wouldn't do for a Sith. Reluctantly he got up on shaky legs and made his way down the shuttle's ramp. Being greeted by Captain Orvik, Lieutenant Sylas, Vette and some forty members of the ship's crew was unexpected.

"Welcome back, my Lord. Congratulations are in order," said Captain Orvik as he presented a salute. Everyone else – with the exception of Vette – followed suit. A nod and wave were the best Glailen could think of to acknowledge everyone at once though he spoke directly to the captain.

"You're right, Captain Orvik. Congratulations are owed to every man and woman on this ship who saw the mission to its success. We've earned an important victory for the Empire."

"And all we needed was someone to lead the way." There was added meaning to those words that was not lost on Glailen. He offered a slight nod to the captain who returned it. After a few seconds Orvik gestured to his right.

"Your companion was most helpful while you were away. She and Lieutenant Sylas led the fight to repel the borders."

"Is that so?" Honestly surprised, Glailen turned a questioning look at Vette. As he did others turned their eyes to her as well. She shrugged to hide the discomfort she felt at the sudden attention.

"What, you thought I was just going to sit around and watch?"

"As I said," spoke Glailen, returning the attention to him, "we have all done well."

"Would you be interested in celebrating? It's not every day this ship sees action like that and I have some Corellian ale I could break out for you and my officers." Though he appreciated Orvik's offer, Glailen didn't need any time to think on his answer.

"The only thing I plan on doing is going to my quarters and sleeping until we reach Dromund Kaas. I had best not be disturbed unless engines and life support systems suffer complete failure." Without waiting for anyone to try persuading him otherwise, Glailen turned and began walking away.

"Before you go, my Lord," Glailen stopped in mid stride at NR-O2's words, "Grand Moff Kilran wishes to speak with you and offer his own congratulations." Glailen wanted nothing more than to refuse. He was the slightest lapse in control away from losing consciousness. If he didn't get a decent amount of sleep soon and before any more life-threatening situations arose then he was certain the next one would be his last. He wasn't so lucky though.

'So long as we can give more for the Empire, we must.'

Glailen turned to face NR-O2 and everyone else assembled.

"Then we mustn't keep the Grand Moff waiting."