…On Al'doleem…

Master Kirak Infil'a sat in quiet solitude under the starlit sky as he meditated on the highest peak of the Temple grounds. Immersing himself in the Force, the Jedi soldier was finally able to be at peace and lay down the one talent the High Council had deemed him most worthy of…killing. Unlike his fellow Jedi, Kirak had shown a rare gift for battle, striking down his enemies with brutal efficiency without succumbing to the alluring call of the Dark Side.

The constant fighting had taken its toll on the aging Battlemaster whose mind, body, and soul bore the scars. It was Kirak himself who had chosen to take the Barash Vow and retire himself from all Order dealings, despite the Council's protests.

The Jedi Master sat with his eyes closed, breathing calmly in and out. With his mind cleared of emotional distractions, he contemplated the request by the Council for him to return as war had been formally declared. "Is it only through fighting that I have purpose? Is that all there is?", Kirak thought to himself.

There was a sudden shift in the Force. The Battlemaster opened his eyes and looked to the stars. A smile formed. "Perhaps a new path is about to reveal itself.", he spoke aloud…

…Aboard the Vila…

Sal had gotten used to being called by his new found family name. It was a constant reminder of the kindness that its true bearer had shown. While many of the other recruits of aristocratic upbringings complained of all their assigned duties, Eras's hunger for learning everything there was to know about the ship could not be satisfied. When not completing his daily tasks, he was spending his time asking questions to engineers, weapons tech specialists, and pilots alike.

Eras had formed a special relationship with the Clones who had treated him as a kindred spirit, allowing him to tag along occasionally in supply runs. They had stopped at their fourth and final pickup and would be entering the war zone in one standard rotation. Over the last week, the entire ship had been conducting emergency drills and had officially been placed on combat alert. The growing tension could be felt throughout the ranks.

With all the seemingly endless drilling of late, Eras dragged himself into his small quarters. He fell into his cot, grateful for its embrace despite some of the other cadets' constant complaining over their lack of comfort. The boy was soon lulled to sleep by the droning hum of the engines.

…A large explosion ripped him from his slumber. "Man your battle stations! This is not a drill! - repeat - This is not a drill!", blared the intercom. Eras looked out his porthole window just in time to witness several Separatist cruisers bearing down on them. An Ion blast from one of the enemy ships hurtled directly towards the Vila, ripping through its hull.

Before the cadet could react, the very walls surrounding him were torn away as he was sucked out into the cold vacuum of space. Time seemed to stop despite the chaos surrounding him. Through the mayhem, Eras was unable to pry his eyes from a strange moon that appeared before him. The boy felt as if it was drawing him in…beckoning him.

"What is that? What does it want with me?", he asked himself as the celestial body seemed to call out to him. A sudden burst of extreme pain throughout his body brought him back to reality. Unable to breath, his lungs were on fire and his blood boiled to the surface of his skin…

Eras jerked awake from the nightmare covered in sweat and shaking uncontrollably. It took a few moments to calm his breathing. Eras slowly rolled off his cot and went to the amenities control panel. Making his selection, a basin filled with fresh water slid from the wall. Eras splashed his face and let it slowly evaporate off of him. There were still a few hours before he was to report for duty, but Eras knew sleep was to elude him. He cleaned up, got dressed, and made his way to the mess hall.

Several of his Clone friends were already there. "No sleep for you either?", commented Ash.

Eras shook his head as he set his tray on the table beside them. "It's our first battle as well, but we get a chance to show those clankers what we can do.", encouraged Razor.

"Remember your training, stick with the team, and you'll be alright kid.", cut in the team's leader, Brax. The cadet took some comfort from this. Brax and Razor had personally taken Eras under their wing. In many ways, they were the closest thing to family Eras had ever had.

The intercom whistle sounded. "DROPPING OUT OF HYPERSPACE IN TWENTY MINUTES. MAN YOUR STATIONS."

"You heard 'em boys. LET'S MOVE!", commanded Brax. Everyone was on their feet...

...Eras followed the Clones to the loading bay. They worked quickly to secure the supply crates and loaded them onto the transports.

"DROPPING OUT OF HYPERSPACE.", the automative message sounded. The team looked to the viewing monitor as the mesmerizing blue swirls of the hyperspace lane were replaced by a horrific scene. The Republic cruisers that were supposed to rendezvous with the Vila lay strewn across space in pieces. Throughout the wreckage, very few Separatist vessels could be seen. The poor souls had clearly been ambushed.

The transmission signal to the viewscreen cut in and out as an unfamiliar voice came over the intercom. "Greetings. I am General Sev'rance Tann, Supreme Commander of the droid armies of the Confederacy of Independent Systems…". A face emerged on the screen. It was a female Chiss by the looks of her blue skin and red eyes. "...The time has come to break the chains of the Republic's oppression. Let the galaxy witness the might of the Separatist cause. Activate all weapons systems and commence firing."

Several Separatist battle cruisers that had been sitting just outside of the Republic Convoy's sensor range moved forward into attack formations. As the lead cruiser's ion cannons pounded the Vila relentlessly, the situation grew increasingly dire. Explosions and alarms echoed through the corridors as the Republic supply ship shook from the impact.

The incoming announcement alert sounded. "SCRAMBLE ALL FIGHTERS!", came the voice of a Clone. The comm signal had been restored.

The unmistakable sound of a hull breach came from nearby and the ship pitched sharply. "Our stabilizers must be damaged!", shouted Razor.

Amid the chaos and destruction, the Captain's voice crackled over the intercom. "ALL HANDS! ABANDON SHIP! REPEAT, ABANDON SHIP!"

A damaged storage clamp overhead gave way, dropping a fighter on the one functioning transport left. The explosion sent all crew members scattering.

The wreckage separated Brax from the rest of his team. "Get the kid out of here! That's an order!", he barked.

Razor grabbed Eras and hauled him in the opposite direction. "I want to stay with you! I can help!", protested Eras.

"Not this time kid!", yelled the Clone.

Throughout the wounded cruiser, all personnel were scrambling to the nearest escape pods and emergency evacuation routes. As they stumbled through the chaos, the explosions grew closer, and the corridor behind them collapsed in a shower of sparks and debris. Razor used his body to shield Eras from the falling wreckage, his helmet absorbing the impact.

"Almost there, kid," Razor assured him, gritting his teeth against the pain. The last escape pod came into view, its hatch partially sealed. Razor struggled to pry it open, his strength waning as he felt the encroaching darkness of his own injuries. With a final, desperate effort, Razor managed to force the hatch open. He turned to Eras, his voice filled with resolve.

"You've got to go, Eras. Get to safety!" Before Eras could argue, the Clone shoved him in and hit the emergency release. "Good luck kid.", whispered Razor as darkness took him.

Eras watched the Vila's final destruction, its hull completely blown apart. The blast created a shockwave that sent the escape pod spiraling. With the stabilizing thrusters working at only a quarter power, Eras struggled to regain control. Only the backup systems were operational. The pod slowed gradually to a crawl. Eras looked out the viewer in horror at the carnage left by the Separatist fleet who were now making the jump to hyperspace.

"Can anyone hear me? Is there anyone out there?", Eras said as he tried to activate the communication systems to signal for help. He fumbled with the controls, desperately trying to establish contact with the Republic or any nearby vessels. To his dismay, the systems were malfunctioning due to the damage the pod had sustained.

Panic set in as Eras realized he couldn't send a distress signal. He pounded his fists against the console, tears of frustration welling up in his eyes. He was stranded in the vastness of space, with no way to let anyone know that he needed help…

…Hours turned into days as Eras continued to tinker with the communication systems, but his efforts proved futile. The pod's life support systems were dwindling, and he had no way of knowing if anyone was searching for survivors. Overwhelmed with emotions combined with sheer exhaustion, Eras collapsed onto the floor...

...How long he had been unconscious was a mystery, but when he awoke, an alarm was ringing throughout the escape pod. Eras pulled himself off the floor and looked out the viewer. He froze in astonishment as his eyes remained fixed on the very same strange moon from his dream.

A sensation went through him as if some force was pulling him towards it. Suddenly, it dawned on Eras. The gravity of the moon was pulling him in.

He quickly engaged the damaged stabilizers, hoping they would hold out long enough to soften the inevitable crash landing. The descent was turbulent, and the pod shuddered violently as it penetrated the moon's thick, swirling atmosphere. The mist obscured Eras's vision, and he had no control over the erratic descent. He braced for the impact.

With a bone-rattling crunch, the escape pod collided with the side of a mountain, continuing to rake down its steep face. Eras held on as best as he could. The blood rushed in his ears as the sounds of metallic carnage were drowned out. The mangled pod came to a sudden halt, slamming Eras into the nearby wall panels. No longer able to fight it, consciousness left him…

…Eras's eyelids fluttered as the sun's rays poured over his face through the shattered viewport. Unable to stand amidst the debris, he disorientedly rolled over onto his stomach and dragged himself out of the wreckage.

Assessing the damage, Eras was relieved to find his body bruised and bloodied, but not broken. He slowly sat up, causing his head to swim. Once the dizziness subsided, Eras took stock of his surroundings.

As far as the eye could see, he was surrounded by rolling mountains and dense forests. Eras struggled to his feet, searching the destroyed pod for anything useful. The rations from the emergency supply kit had been used up, but there was a standard issue DC-17 blaster included.

Eras grabbed the weapon, along with the few medical supplies left. He once again found himself overlooking the terrain, pondering which direction he should go. Spotting a river below, Eras decided to start there…