Chapter Fourteen

Kyra brought the Mon Calamarian light freighter out of hyperspace and descended down to Cato Neimoidia. The sleek ship sliced through the cloud line and the galaxy-famous landscape began to fill the view. Massive rock arches dotted the landscape, looming out of the mist like the frozen carcasses of gray exogorths. Suspended from the arches by giant cables were the opulent bridge cities, where only the richest of Neimoidians lived. The cities ranged from a few hundred meters to several kilometers long, and all of them supported grand, luxurious buildings, landscapes, and hardscapes. There were also tower-like rock formations that pierced the fog, and pairs of these held up bridge cities as well.

As she brought the ship down, she reached out with the force, seeking the downed Jedi through the force. She found him and winced when she perceived the state he was in. He needed help. And fast. She quickly removed herself from the Force. It was still painful, like a wound still raw and exposed.

She landed on one of the towering land formations on the opposite side of the spire from the city. She grabbed a small medpack and was able to conceal it under her slightly baggy clothing, then exited the ship and walked to the edge of the natural platform. She looked down and saw the massive cables holding the city bridge up, marveling at the spectacular architecture. She looked below that and saw the thick gray blanket of mist that hovered a few hundred meters above sea level and covered the planet as far as Kyra could see. The Force seemed to be prodding at her, warning her, but again she couldn't tell what.

She took out the transponder that Hoppie had given her and stared at it, hoping to receive some kind of confirmation from it. She had no idea who Quix Caladan was. Aedan had only briefly told her about his time on Agora, and that he had been hunting dark Jedi, but they hadn't really had time to discuss the details. Regardless, prior to leaving Dac she had sent a transmission to this Caladan because the moment Hoppie handed her the communication device the Force flashed in approval.

She had simply said, "Quix Caladan, this is Kyra Dawnstar. Aedan Kahl told me to contact you if I needed help, so um, here I am, on Cato Neimoidia, and I think I need your help. The galaxy is burning down around us Jedi, and we could use an ally, so if you are willing to assist, please come here quickly. Lock onto this transponder and you'll find me. Thank you." It was a terrible message, but if he really did want to help Aedan then maybe he'd come.

She climbed down from the top of the plateau, lowering herself to the durasteel cables that were as thick as an AT-TE walker, some of them were three times that actually. And there were over a half a dozen of them. She landed on one of them and staying as low as possible due to the wind, she made her way across the divide and furtively slipped into the city.

She had never been to this planet before and was stunned to see how ostentatious it was. The sky bridge style apparatus must have been astronomical in cost already, but these garishly adorned Alderaanian marble buildings, exposed Nubian permacrete sidewalks, and massive holoprojector viewscreens at every intersection was offensively expensive. Every Neimoidian walking by was wearing the finest silk and covered in fine jewelry. Her Mon Calamarian garb, while nice, made her stand out, and that was the opposite of what she wanted. She slipped into a what appeared to be a less expensive store, but nearly gasped when she saw the price tags.

She grabbed a fashionable pair of gray slacks, a white sweater, and a nerf-leather satchel-like handbag that she could put the medpack in. While pricey, the material of the clothes felt amazing. She walked to the register, briefly checking that it was just her and the cashier in the store, and immediately mind tricked the Neimoidian. She walked out of the store, and then changed in the nearest refresher, discarding her foreign ware, and slipping into the illegally acquired clothes.

"Alright, that's done, now where's this helpless Jedi."

She took a breath, and tensed for the pain as she sank into the Force. The darkness bothered her. This new blackened terrain was unfamiliar and unsettling. Every Jedi death had left a scar in the celestial plane, and Kyra felt the residual pain from all of those scars each time she entered it. Prior to this order 66 she could spend hours upon hours basking in the brightness of the Force, but now she couldn't wait to pull back out of it. The reality made her sick to her stomach.

Just find him or her and get out of here.

She locked onto the Jedi's Force signature, definitely a "he," and perceived his spark in the infinite energy field. A spark that was vaguely familiar as every being had their own unique depiction or essence in the infinite energy field. His light was dim but still there, at the bottom of the support structure, seemingly underneath the city. Well, down to the depths we go.

Kyra stayed out of sight as best she could. The good thing about being on the Trade Federations primary planet is there weren't too many troopers in the capital city of Zarra. The battles here were fought in the surrounding cities. However, it was hard to believe that no one saw the Jedi Starfighter crashing down, so she knew they were here too, looking for the same person she was.

It didn't take too long to get down to the underbelly of the city. She had exited the aesthetic section, and now entered the functional part of the city, consisting of nothing but dreary gray durasteel walls and complex looking electrical panels. She knew she was drawing near, but was confused as to where exactly she was heading. He seemed to be outside of the lower structures. She found a maintenance walkway, and began took it down and around the lower buildings. This walkway ended, leaving nothing underneath her but the massive durasteel cables that held the city up.

Where in the blazes was he?

She leapt over the walkway railing, and began walking along the cable, after a hundred meters she found a set of stairs leading down in between the cables. There she found a small open aired maintenance alcove, and leaning against one of the walls was none other than Quinlas Vos.

"Quinlan?" she said.

The clearly hurt Jedi opened his eyes slowly and blinked several times trying to focus on Kyra. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Rescuing you," she said.

He chuckled, then wince, his hands going to his ribs. "Well, you're wasting your time."

"Come on, a bacta patch and a few injections will fix that wound right up." She took out the medical kit and began inspecting the wound. When she lifted up his shirt, she saw that the side of his torso was covered in bruises, scrapes, and lacerations, as well as one deep puncture wound below his ribcage. She cleaned that wound, and applied a small bacta patch, and gave him a few injections that would help heal him and keep the swelling down.

"That should help," Kyra said, standing up.

He shook his head, "That's not what's killing me."

Kyra deflated at that. She sighed. "I know, Quinlan. They're all gone. But we have to keep going."

He barked out a laugh again. "All your wisdom and yet your still wrong."

"What?" This brought her up short. What else could it be?

He shook his head. "Get out of here, Blondie. Let me die."

"That's not going to happen."

He scoffed, "Of all the Jedi you could have helped, why in Dathomir would you pick me?"

Kyra had two answers to that question. One, there weren't many jedi left that could be helped. And two, the Force picked him; she had no choice in the matter. But both answers would not be helping the situation.

"I was in the neighborhood," she said.

The Kiffar glanced back at her, his eyes narrowed, the yellow line across his nose and cheeks wrinkled. "Yea. Right," he said dryly. "And what the heck are you wearing? You look like you're about to go bet on a Fathier race while drinking a glass of Toniray wine."

Kyra ignored his comments. Knowing time was of the essence, she had to take the kid gloves off. She stepped forward and grabbed Master Vos under the arms and hauled him to his feet. "Come on, Master. I've got to get you out of here."

She put his arm around her shoulders, supporting his weight, and started walking him back. They made it five steps, when he collapsed and fell to the ground.

"What's the point?"

Kyra could not make sense of this. She had barely said a few sentences to Quinlan, and yes, he had the reputation of being a maverick, but the weak, listless person before her was nothing like what she had heard of him. Her frustration was mounting. The world was on fire and this guy wanted to just give up. Aedan was out there, probably fighting for his life, and the Force guided her to this?

"Master, we have to get moving?" Kyra asked, voice rising.

He made no response, just lay there prone on the ground, eyes seemingly empty.

She shook her head and started to pick him back up, and he shoved her away.

"Let me die!" he shouted.

Her anger spilled over, and she slapped him hard across the face. "What the frak is wrong with you?"

The slap startled him, and he fell back against the durasteel wall. He took several breaths. "She's gone," he said finally.

Kyra almost asked who, but it'd be better to let this play out at his pace.

"She died, and that nearly killed me. But I still had the order, and I know she would have wanted me to continue living. And I did," the last part came out as a sob. And goodness gracious were those tears coming from his eyes.

"But then my own clones attacked me. Jedi are dying around me. Obi-wan sends out a message saying the temple is fallen, and that I should go hide," he sighed deeply. "What is left for me? How could I possibly go on? Losing Asajj broke me, but at least I had the order. But now…" He buried his face in his hands.

Ventress? Wow, I totally missed that one.

"I'm so sorry, Quin. I had no idea."

"Imagine if you lost Aedan. What would you do then?"

Kyra flinched back at that. How did he know?

"Yes, blondie. I know about you and Aedan. But really, what would you do if you lost him and the order?"

She opened her mouth to respond with hope and optimism. But the words died before they left her mouth.

"Exactly," he said. "I'm doing exactly what you would do."

She wanted to deny it. To proclaim her self-independence, but she really didn't know what she would do if she lost Aedan. She sighed, and then sat down next to him against the wall.

"I wish you could have met her, and seen the person she became in the end. She was…" he let out a breath.

"I wish I could have too."

They sat there in peaceful silence for a few moments. Kyra wanted to get moving, but she also knew this needed to happen.

"Really, Kyra, why are you here? Why did you come for me?"

Kyra stared down at her hands, inspecting the wrinkle lines, trying to find answers in the random patterns.

"The Force guided me. It led me to you."

Quinlan's eyes locked with hers, searching for any bit of falsehood, but found none. "Why? Why would it do that?"

She shrugged. "I don't know."

"Where's Aedan?" he asked.

"Alive, somewhere, on some sort of mission."

"Shouldn't you be helping him, then?"

She shook her head. "Not according to the Force. According to the Force I'm exactly where I'm supposed to be."

"Well, perhaps you read it wrong. Or better yet, perhaps the Force is wrong. Thousands of Jedi were just wiped out in a matter of hours and there was no warning. No heads up. How could It have let that happen? The entire Jedi order is no more. Jedi who served the Force."

"Did we? Were we really serving the Force fighting in this ridiculous, pointless war?"

"What, so we should all die because of it? For what? Because the Force was angry at us? That's even more ridiculous than the war."

He had a point there. That didn't make much sense either. "You're right. That can't be it."

"See. The Force is flawed after all. Or it's not some all-encompassing entity with a will of its own, because if that's the case, it merely stood by and let the Jedi die."

Kyra shook her head in disagreement. "I still believe in the Force. Still have faith in it."

"Oh, and what, you also think everything happens for a reason? What reason could there possibly be for thousands of warriors of the light to be murdered."

"No, I don't believe that everything happens for a reason. I don't know why this happened, and I don't know if there even was a reason for it. But it did happen, we survived, and now we have to continue on."

"What the hell for? To carry on the Jedi legacy? To uphold the code? Bantha fodder. It's over, Kyra. It's all gone. There's nothing left for people like us."

She was so tempted to fall into his pit of despair. She was dangling over the side, barely hanging onto one last strand of hope, but she knew just how precarious that hold was. She couldn't think about it or she would surely fall. "You're right. The galaxy is on fire, the Jedi are gone, and we've lost everyone. But I'm going to get you out of here."

He scoffed. "Still, after everything we just discussed, you're still going to believe in something that probably doesn't care one bit about you."

"Just get off planet with me, okay? Let's get off this rock, go somewhere safe, and then I promise I'll leave you alone, and let you be?"

"What difference does it make if I die here, or in some rugged patch of earth in self-exile. It's all the same."

"Quin, please. I can't get back to Aedan until I know you're safe."

His eyes narrowed. "You just had to play that card, huh?"

Kyra smiled.

"You know he saved my life once."

"Wouldn't doubt it."

Quinlan let out a long, exaggerated breath, then began struggling to his feet. "Fine. Let's go."

Kyra hopped to her feet and helped him up. They had a long way to get back to the ship.

"This isn't going to work," Hoppie said.

Dassa walked ahead of him at a brisk pace, clearing scanning the area for something. "I haven't even told you the plan yet."

They had landed the freighter a kilometer outside of Tulani—a small town closest to the Clone Garrison. Tulani wasn't near the size of Murkhana City, and the destruction of the clone wars hadn't yet extended here, but there were a dozen or so tall buildings that created a pretty skyline against verdant hills and forest. Murkhana city had suffered greatly, but Tulani was still blossoming.

They walked through the sparsely populated streets and Dassa was still not filling him in on the plan.

"At least tell me what we're looking for."

Dassa stopped suddenly, her right hand moving in front of Hoppie, halting his progress. Her arm felt hard, like metal. He reached up and squeezed her wrist to confirm. The moment he did, she shoved him back.

"Watch it," she said.

He held both hands up, "Sorry, I didn't realize you had a prosthetic."

She looked back towards whatever was holding her interest. "Yep. Top of the fracking line. And I have Aedan and Kyra to thank for that."

"They cut your arm off?"

She looked back at him, "No, you moron. Kyra gave Wil the phrikite, and he bought me an arm."

"You all keep saying phrikite. What the frak is phrikite?" he smirked, amused by himself.

She again stared at him for a long moment. "I am regretting this more and more."

"What was wrong with your real arm?"

"I lost it."

Hoppie nodded, "Yea, I hate it when that happens."

Dassa shook her head, and then focused on something down the street.

"That's my plan," she said, pointing at two clone troopers on patrol.

Hoppie narrowed his eyes, and then realized what she had in mind. He groaned. "Really?"

"You got a better idea?"

He didn't. "Let's get this over with. And we're just going to stun the troopers, okay?"

"Yes, yes, fine."

A few minutes later, Hoppie had on a new suit of clone trooper armor, Dassa was in binders, and they were both nearing the clone garrison. The two clones were disposed of in the back of an old warehouse. They'd wake up in about two hours, but Hoppie, Dassa, and Wil would be long gone by then. Hopefully.

Before heading out, Hoppie made the armor look older and more banged up, scratching it in several places. While Dassa's hands were bound behind her back, she had kept her long maroon leather duster on, and her blaster was stored at the small of her back.

They neared the garrison and two troopers on sentry duty. "State your business, trooper."

"Special orders from clone intelligence. You have a Wil Asani in custody do you not?"

The two guards turned to look at each other in surprise, then one nodded back to him. "Good. This one," he gave Dassa a shove, "Knows the location of two renegade Jedi, and is Wil Asani's sister. I feel we can come to some kind of arrangement given the potential consequences.

Hoppie knew he had to overly confident and show no hesitation. "Take me to the detention block, timing is critical."

"O-of course, Right away."

One of the guards led the way, and Hoppie gave Dassa another shove forward upholding his role. Dassa played her part well, slumping her shoulders, eyes downcast, walking slowly, and looking entirely beaten.

She's good, he thought.

They were led into a dark gray building that looked far too fancy for a garrison. The foyer was a large room with vaulted ceilings. The walls were a gray blue marble, and six marble pillars lined the walkway, three on either side. This must have been some kind of office building requisitioned into a garrison. At the far end of this room was a door that opened into a long corridor. The base was relatively empty, and that came as a big relief. Most of the troopers were probably out searching for Jedi to kill.

My how things change.

Another thing Hoppie noticed is that all the troopers he came in contact with seemed to be less…human. I mean clone troopers were already pretty robotic in their ways, but what he was seeing now was even more pronounced. The trooper leading them walked like a machine and didn't seem to register much going on around him.

Did Order 66, and the activation of this inhibitor or behavioral modification chip somehow fry their brains, because that's exactly what it seemed like. It made his insides hurt. But it also made the following mission that much easier.

Luckily, the base wasn't very big and they were escorted into the detention block. A non-clone officer sat at the semi-circular control station, and eyed them as they walked past him. There were six holding cells with red force shields containing the prisoners. Dassa was breaking character, peering into each cell meticulously. When they reached the last cell on the left, Dassa froze. Hoppie could almost feel her relief.

The dark-skinned man on the other side of the shimmering red barrier looked to be in pretty bad shape. Bruises and blood, notwithstanding, Hoppie could see the resemblance. He slowly raised his head when he realized he had visitors, and was up on his feet in a second when he saw his sister.

"Dassa!"

She smiled, "Hey lil bro. You doing alright?"

His eyes were darting between Hoppie and Dassa. "What happened? Are you okay?"

She was about to answer when the non-clone officer spoke behind them. "State your rank and business here, Soldier."

Uh oh.

Hoppie turned to face the man, while still holding onto Dassa's arm. "CT-1228, Lieutenant. And I'm on the trail of two renegade Jedi, and this one," he shook Dassa, "Has information on their whereabouts. And that one," he said gesturing towards Wil, "Is this one's sister."

The officer smiled wickedly. "Effective interrogation tactics. I like it. However, I will have to confer with command. Any interaction with prisoners is to be monitored by the higher ups."

Hoppie nodded, "Of course."

The officer began walking back to the comm station. Before he was halfway there, Hoppie drew his pistol, faster than almost anybody around, and fired a stun round into the officer and one into the clone trooper before the latter even raised his blaster rifle.

"See, I'm fast too," Hoppie said.

Dassa ignored him and slipped out of her binders, they were never locked properly in the first place. She grabbed the blaster at the small of her back and fired at the holocam closest to the door, while Hoppie ran to the control station and opened up all the holding cells.

"You're all free. Get out of here."

The five other prisoners of various races did not wait to be told twice, and sprinted out of there.

Wil walked out, and Dassa wrapped him up in a hug. He hugged her back, then glanced at Hoppie wearily. "What's going on?"

Hoppie shrugged, "We're here to rescue you."

"But you're a clone."

"What gave it away?"

Dassa grabbed the fallen trooper's blaster and handed it to Wil. "Come on, we need to get out of here now. We'll talk later."

"Sis, he's a clone, how can we trust him?"

"I did just save your ass, kid."

Wil glowered, "Kid? You're like, what, ten years old?"

"Later, Wil. Let's make it out of this first. But we can trust him. He's friends with Aedan and Kyra," she said while moving toward the door.

Wil's eyes went wide, jaw dropping open.

Hoppie nodded. "Yeah, they're old pals of mine," he said and then followed Dassa. They sprinted down the long corridor, no clones or guards in sight.

This is way too easy.

The double doors opened up into the large room with the marble pillars, and right as they crossed the threshold, a squad of clones spilled into room as well, and immediately opened fire. Dassa and Wil went to the right and Hoppie went to the left, taking cover behind the pillars.

There was one way into the base and one way out. The only chance they had of getting out of here was through that door. And that meant shooting their way out through clone troopers.

Blast bolts peppered the pillar he was hiding behind. He glanced over at Dassa, her face one of steel. There was no denying the respect he felt for this strong, fearless woman. She locked eyes with him, and those steel eyes melted, begging him to help, to bring everything he had in the fight to come.

Oh, well. Why not?