"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Breha Organa asked as the ship hovered above the landing pad for a moment before gently touching down on the duracrete.

"It's a little late to back out," Bail replied in jest, trying to use a little humor to assuage his wife's unease.

The joke was met with a sharp exhale through her nose, "You know I support what you're trying to do, but bringing her here…"

"Padmé trusted her."

"And how well did that work out for Padmé?" The moment the barbed words left her mouth she regretted them, wishing she hadn't spoken them aloud. "I'm sorry. That was unfair."

A pause hung between the couple as the craft cycled down and ramp lowered.

"I know it's a risk. But we need help like hers. She saw what many missed. I trust her, Breha."

"Let's hope you're right about this," she straightened her posture an inch taller as a Shepard descended the ramp.

"Give her a chance. I think you may like her," Bail affectionately bumped his elbow to his wife's shoulder with a smirk. "She's notoriously stubborn, too."

After proper introductions, they flew through the city to the palace, where the royal family lived. The city was inescapably beautiful, a stark contrast of gleaming spires amongst the lush green of the forest at the edge of the metropolis. Clear skies, bright light, and meticulous care was on display as the shuttle landed. Queen Breha took her leave, stating the demands of her position, though Shepard knew the requirement of plausible deniability when she saw it. Without a doubt, the purpose of her meeting with the venerable Senator was nothing short of treasonous in the eyes of the Emperor, so the less knowledge of their exchange the better, though the shrewd monarch also likely knew much more than she led on.

Senator Organa led her to a monochromatic sitting room, white like much of the rest of the living area, save for specific, intentional decorations adding much needed color and warmth to the room. On his gesture, she sat, keen eyes taking the details of the space.

"I hope the journey agreed with you," Bail stated, seating himself on the couch opposite her.

"It agreed well enough," she answered. "I haven't been doing much deep space travel, so the trip felt longer than it would have five years ago."

He nodded slowly, "I heard of what you attempted to do from Kamino. That you tried to stop Order 66."

"Tried and failed. Though I must assume that means Kenobi survived his duel on Mustafar," she concluded. "I also heard Anakin still breathes, one way or another."

"You've stayed informed."

"I fell behind, but had reason to catch up." She paused to study her host for a moment, leaning forward and resting her elbows on her knees. "I visited the moon where the Tribunal crashed. I know two souls survived the wreck. Even looked for them before returning home. I don't suppose you've seen either of them recently?"

"I saw her, only her, on Naboo at Padme's funeral."

"I heard she had died. I'm so sorry. She was truly a force for good," her gaze shifted around the room briefly, eyes searching for hidden ears. "She was the reason I found my way home. Doesn't feel like I thanked her properly."

"You did," he affirmed. "You came back, you fought to preserve life, and end the war. Find the root, rotten that it was."

"The fight is why I'm here. As long as the Empire thinks I'm dead, I might as well take advantage of the opportunity to cause them some problems. But I have to ask: The Geth message you sent. Was that just bait to pique my interest or do you have a solid lead on unrecovered units?"

"I have a rumor. It's substantiated, but still only a rumor."

He removed a holoprojector disc from his pocket and set it on the table between them. The device illuminated and played a short holovid. An imposing woman appeared, dressed in black, her face angry but focused. Long hair was pulled back into tight plaits with strands flowing free down her back. A prominent scare transected her face, from above her left brow, across her nose, and onto her right cheek. Her face was illuminated by the crimson glow of a lightsaber.

"Where is the Jedi?" She demanded. "I have tracked him to this village. Tell us where he is if you value your lives."

Terrified whimpers answered her demands. Although she paused for a long time, waiting for someone to relent, no one did. With a wave of her hand, a squad of Geth, lights glowing ominous red instead of white, stepped forward and opened fire. The screams and cries of the innocent people played for a moment before the vid fractured and cut off.

Anger rolled in Shepard's veins, knowing they hadn't chosen that fate, "When did that happen? Where?"

"The exact date is unknown, however my contacts confirmed the village is on Ja'alak, a former Separatist outpost that is presently under Imperial occupation. It's rumored to be part of a network used to shuttle surviving Jedi to safety."

"That woman. Who is she?"

"Her name is unknown to me, though she was once a Jedi that has turned to the dark side to act on Lord Vader's behalf. They are called Inquisitors. Jedi hunters."

"How many are there?"

"Also unknown. Their existence is not spoken of openly."

Shepard exhaled, "And what of resistance to the Empire? Organizing, mobilizing, fighting back."

"I'm afraid that is…complicated. The propaganda from Coruscant was ready the moment the purge began. An unquestioned story of safety and security, a galaxy of law and order has been pushed across all channels and, unfortunately, most people have little reason to question it. News is heavily regulated by the Empire and there are few leaks. By keeping the people content and oblivious, the Empire has been able to spread to the far reaches of the galaxy, sector by sector, planet by planet with little resistance."

"That doesn't mean people aren't fighting back," she countered.

"Indeed, but it does mean rebel cells are small and isolated."

Again she exhaled, thinking of the possible plays, "Where is Kenobi now? He could be useful in fighting the Empire."

The sudden shift in conversation caught Bail off guard. His body language revealed a telling tension in his spine that didn't go unnoticed. Although he clearly trusted her enough to bring her to his home, there was still something he was hiding. For the life of her she couldn't figu- a shadow moved just outside the room. Rather than call attention to it, she observed on the periphery and waited.

"I do not know where he is," he finally answered.

A lie. But a necessary one. Why.

"When did you last see him?" She pressed.

Clearly, he noticed the shift as well. He knew she was trying to solve the puzzle he hoped she wouldn't notice. As he calculated his reply, she also worked through the possibilities. Obviously, any living Jedi wasn't safe and she assumed he would go into hiding, but why the lie? The conflicted trust was confounding but also revealing. In her gut, she had her suspicions, but she also prayed it wasn't actually true, that she was wrong. Before she could answer, the shadow she previously noticed grew a face, then her eyes couldn't resist the urge to meet the inquisitive pools peering from around the corner.

"Hello there," Shepard greeted, prompting Bail to turn suddenly in his seat.

"It seems the walls have eyes and ears," he sighed with mild frustration and drooping shoulders. "You might as well come out. We know you're there. Time to be polite after spying."

After a reluctant moment, a young girl appeared. Her chestnut hair was intricately braided, similar to the queen's. She was dressed in a simple cream tunic and deep red trousers, both Of which were blotched with dirt. Most striking of all were her brown eyes against her porcelain skin. Those were eyes she'd know anywhere, eyes she never thought she'd see again.

Remembering her protocol for meeting royalty, Shepard stood and waited for the young princess to stand before her. "Your highness," she bowed in respect. "I am Captain Shepard, a friend of your father's."

"Princess Leia Organa," she answered crisply. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Captain."

Bail hummed a smile, "Leia, we've talked about spying, haven't we?"

"Yes, father," her face fell with his gentle scrutiny.

"Well, you've listened enough. Run along, I'm sure the governess is looking for you."

"Yes, father," she repeated and turned to leave, but not without looking back at Shepard with a small smile curling at the edge of her mouth.

"Our rebellious daughter."

"Adopted?" Shepard said neutrally.

He nodded imperceptibly.

"She looks about five," she kept her eyes on the conspicuously confident girl as she walked down the middle of the hallway, her head held high.

"She is."

Her eyes flicked to him, "And Obi-wan?"

At that, he had no choice but to relent, "With her brother, some place safe."

"From the man that fathered them," she concluded.

"Yes."

"You have a great deal to protect."

"I risk the same as anyone else who resists the Empire: my community, my family, and my life."

She nodded. "I am here to collect intel and assess the situation as it pertains to my sector. If a mission is approved, I will be funded by the Citadel Council and given the laterality to engage as I deem appropriate, but I'll need more than a grainy holovid of corrupted Geth and a razed village to secure their approval."

"I'm afraid airtight intelligence is difficult to come by. This is the best my contacts could come up with."

"Not good enough."

"Captain-"

"You asked for my help," she interjected firmly. "I'm here because I want to join the fight, but you asked for my help. You're asking me to risk my sector's safety. Trillions of lives from a dozen different advanced species. If you want my Council to play ball, you're going to have to do better than 'I know a guy'. I need a contact."

Bail deliberated for a moment, weighing the risks and benefits of such an action. "He's an antiques dealer on Coruscant. He won't appreciate the brashness," he cautioned, "But if it will extend abundant good faith, he will oblige."

"Thank you. Where is his store located?"

"On the surface. He caters to a high end clientele. You will need to dress and spend the part."

"Fancy clothes with deep pockets. Noted," she sighed internally. The capital of the Empire was the last place she wanted to go, but if the mission demanded it…"Early reports on Coruscant said there was some push back among the clones after the war ended. I imagine a loyal officer would be in the middle of it, helping his brothers. Is there any chance he's still lurking in the lower levels?"

"Unfortunately the clone army was officially decommissioned several years ago. All surviving clones were retired from their posts and removed from Coruscant. The captain was there for a period, but I have not heard word of his current location."

A discouraged sigh escaped her nose. She shouldn't have given up on him. Rather than turn tail and limp back to Earth, she should have refitted herself and gone returned to Coruscant. It was the one place she hadn't looked, hadn't dared to venture. If she'd had half a quad, she could have found him.

"I will say though," he continued, "if you have the opportunity…you should visit Pabu before returning to your sector. I hear the sunsets are unmatched."

Her head cocked to the left at the comment, taking his meaning immediately, "The Council will want a full report of Ja'alak. My team and I will investigate for leads."

"Of course," he nodded and followed suit. "I will secure travel credentials for you and notify my contact of arrival."

"Thank you," she extended her hand, which he shook in return.

"Thank you, Captain," he replied. "Be cautious. The Imperial Security Bureau has eyes and ears everywhere. Don't trust anyone, even the kindest villager."

"I'll be careful, Bail," she reassured.

"May the Force be with you, Shepard."

Panicked breaths echoed in the still, dry air between the repetitive grind of salt under booted feet. She clutched the warm bundle in her arms, holding that most precious cargo to her chest as she ran blindly into the darkness. Behind her, the strangled cry of her partner, and the deafening silence that followed, compelled her forward. Even at night, for those fully equipped and prepared, venturing into the vast, crystalline wasteland verged on suicide. Only the truly desperate attempted to cross The Pan.

She ran until her lungs burned and legs threatened to give out beneath her. Hot tears streamed down her dirt caked face, leaving behind trails of fear and grief. Her stride faltered and she collapsed to her knees. Agony choked from her throat silencing her, save for the staccato of her whispered sobs. Too exhausted to run, too exhausted to fight, she breathed a stream of apologies into the bundle.

Pulling back the warm blanket, she stared lovingly at the sleeping face. She committed to memory the long lashes resting against those smooth cheeks and the bowed lips that occasionally parted as a sleepy tongue suckled at an imagined breast. A fresh wave of grief swept over her, knowing her eyes looked their last on the life she had grown within her body. Despite every effort they had made and how careful they had been, ultimately, they had failed. Before long, the ominous sound of salt crunching underfoot approached, filling her with dread. The inevitable had reached them.

"Please, don't take her," she buried her face against the blanket. "She's only a baby. She isn't a threat to anyone."

A figure, cloaked and clad in black, ominously stood several paces away. At their back were three Geth, likewise painted black with glowing red optics. The figure didn't move, instead continuing to watch with the endless patience of an expert hunter. Afterall, it was why the Emperor himself gave them such missions.

"She'll never know of her gifts," the mother pleaded for one last chance to escape, narrow that it was. "We'll keep walking. We've no water or supplies. The Pan will kill us by midday, anyway. Please, just don't take her from me."

At that, the figure moved forward in soundless, fluid strides. The weeping mother turned her face upward to gaze into the face that had been hunting them for weeks. Despite the illumination from the planet's twin full moons, a dark shadow cast across the hunter's face. It was as though the figure was but a phantom, a stalking curator of death, faceless and hidden. The mother flinched and turned the bundle away from the figure when a hand was raised to pull back the hood, revealing the face of a woman.

"Calm, little mother," the woman crooned in a song-like tone, "You do not want to wake the baby, do you?" She took the mother's elbow and nudged her to stand.

Complying, the mother found her feet, though her legs trembled, threatening to give out at any moment. "Please…you don't have to do this."

"But, you see I must. Your child is very important to the Emperor," she pulled aside the edge of the blanket to peer at the sleeping babe. "Give her to me and I will not spill your blood."

The mother's insatiable instinct to run suddenly vanished as she stood next to the hunter. Her racing thoughts quieted and her grief muted. She felt as though she were in a dreamstate, watching herself from outside her own body. Part of her knew it was a vicious mind trick, but that part was quickly swallowed and silenced. Unable to resist the coaxing whispers that rippled through her mind, she relinquished her child.

"Thank you," the hunter cradled the bundle tenderly. "Now, little mother. Walk. Continue your journey into The Pan. Your husband is waiting for you on the other side."

"Waiting for me…" she muttered in a trance and started to walk in an exhausted shuffle.

The hunter watched the mother go. A long shadow cast against the stark white of the salt pans as she went. To the hunter's right, the modified Geth platform approached and raised a long-range rifle, taking careful aim.

"No," the hunter breathed. "Let The Pan take her. It was how she wanted to die. Take the baby to the ship and put it in stasis."

"Yes, Inquisitor," the Geth answered in a thickly modulated voice.

Behind them, her ship landed and the platform lowered. As the three Geth entered the ship, a fourth emerged from the cockpit and approached her.

"Inquisitor Perth, a proximity alert has been activated on Ja'alak." It held up a holoprojector, displaying two human females and a Geth platform walking into frame.

"Is this a live feed?" She asked.

"No. The transmission was recorded two planetary cycles ago."

"Do you recognize them?"

"No, Inquisitor. This unit's current programming houses no prior record of these humans or the Geth."

She took the projector and studied the image, particularly the woman in the lead. As they moved through the ruined village, they paused near the hidden proximity marker to speak.

"Jack, you find anything?" She asked, holstering a pistol and activating a scanning device.

"No, Shepard," Jack replied.

"It does not appear anyone has occupied this settlement since it was razed," the Geth added.

"No surprise," Shepard distractedly commented. "I'm picking up a signal though."

"Shepard…" the Inquisitor muttered to herself.

Holding out her arm, the glowing orange device beeped and trilled as she closed in. The image shook as the deliberately placed pieces of rubble were removed until the entire transmitter was pulled from the sandy ground. For a moment, Shepard stared into the glowing red lens without speaking. Through the visor of her helmet, her eyes squinted in a smile before she dropped the device to the ground. With the heel of her boot, Shepard stomped the transmitter, making the hologram flicker. A second blow cut the feed all together.

"G1," she quietly called, a shrewd smile of her own growing on her face briefly, "Access the docking records on Ja'alak. I want to know all the ships that arrived and departed in the same planetary cycle through the port nearest the village."

"Yes, Inquisitor," G1 replied, ascending the ramp.

After settling into the cockpit, the ship effortlessly rose from the sand. As they passed over the delirious, childless mother, Inquisitor Perth's eyes stayed on her until the long shadows of sand jackals trotting in the woman's direction caught her focus. Death arrived swiftly that night.

Once the ship broke through the atmosphere, a shuttle detached from the main ship.

"G2, deliver the target and request the next mission," she ordered over the comm.

"Yes, Inquisitor," G2 answered and closed the line. A moment later, the ship vanished into hyperspace.

G1 approached and handed her a holopad containing the records she wanted. Her eyes scanned the ship names, models, and credentials until one caught her eye. Highlighting the line, she opened the record. A rotating capture of the ship's profile flashed on the left side of the screen. The registered name was Allison Gunn, no doubt a cover.

She closed her eyes and took a measured breath in and out, focusing her mind. A moment later, her eyes flicked back open and she returned the holopad to G1, "That is her ship."

"Should I order docks locked down?"

"No, they have come and gone already," she rolled her tongue against the inside of her cheek as she thought. "G3, set course for Ja'alak. I want to speak to the port master in person." A smile curled in the corner of the Inquisitor's lips.

"The estimated travel time is five hours and seventeen minutes."

"Good," she stood from the pilot's seat. "I will be in my cabin. I do not want to be disturbed."

G3 nodded obediently as she departed the cockpit and made the short walk to her private quarters. The space was minimal but offered what she needed with the small comfort of a meditation seat and a personal fresher. Rather than immediately wash away the desert she'd spent the prior three days traipsing through, she turned on the console on the corner desk, and accessed the Imperial Citizen Database. Curiosity had always been an insatiable behavior, one for which she was often reprimanded by her master. Lucky for her, he was dead.

The search was simple and the results straightforward. According to the official Imperial filing, Captain L. Jean Shepard was killed during a fire fight on Kamino for resisting capture during the execution of Order 66. A shiver traveled down her spine at the memory of that day. Shaking the sensation away, she reviewed the official report filed by Training Sergeant Grin [CT-4746]. Everything seemed in order until she reviewed the holocam footage of the event.

Between the constant torrential rain, dark night, and the distance between the holorecorder and the landing platform, it was nearly impossible to decipher the details. However, immediately after Sergeant Grin fired the kill shot, the footage skipped and abruptly ended. Returning to the trooper's report, it stated: Recovery of Captain Shepard's body was not possible due to a sudden storm surge that washed her remains overboard. She found it terribly convenient that Shepard was declared dead and the file closed without a body or footage of the supposed storm surge.

At that, she abandoned the file, having gleaned the useful data. Standing from the desk, she shed the tight, black layers of textile and leather until she stood naked in her cabin. The breeze of the recycling air settled across her flesh, making every exposed hair stand on end. Despite being freed from the constrictive uniform, she still felt the pressure of the high collar against her throat, as though it was a reminder of when Lord Vader raises his hand in anger.

A menacing chill struck her body, leaving her feeling exposed and vulnerable. Invisible pins and needles pricked her skin sharply. Phantom fingers dug into pressure points on her joints, forcing her to curl and crumple to the floor. Her heart pounded in her ears, rapid and throbbing, pumping blood with such intensity her vision pulsed with every beat. Unable to take any more, she fully surrendered to the pain, letting it sweep through her body, following the same blazing trail it always did. Once the worst passed, she took several deep, focused breaths, and she hauled herself to her feet, shuffling to the fresher in the corner of the room.

The sonic shower was as unsatisfying as always, but it was enough to wash away the mission. Exhaustion crept across her limbs as she redressed, though it was not from the mission, but from the cleaving of her soul that came with it. She had been warned at the beginning that the process was not for the weak. That it would be an inferno within the body until all light was extinguished and all that remained was the dark side.

Despite committing herself fully to the Empire, the war still raged within her. Part of her wondered if her fellow Inquisitors shared in the experience, but she dared not ask, lest she risk showing them a weakness. No, it was never a question that would pass her lips and be spoken into existence. Instead, she bore the weight of her actions in silence, determined to rid herself of the light for good.