Force Exile III: Liberator/Part 9

20
The Griffin emerged from hyperspace on the outskirts of the Yanibar system, so that the central star was only slightly brighter than the others that were visible. Its crew wanted their arrival to go unnoticed and they had succeeded, having used the small asteroid belt for cover from any prying sensors. Although it was a fairly large spaceship, it was easily dwarfed by even midsize asteroids. Slowing to a gentle drift, the ship made no move to approach the world of Yanibar

Instead, a much smaller vessel, a light freighter, emerged from the Griffin’s hangar, on a planetbound course towards Yanibar. It made no effort to disguise its approach at all. Zooming into Yanibar’s atmosphere, the crew of the ship watched as the pitch black of space receded to the dark blue of Yanibar’s night sky. The unpolluted atmosphere allowed a relatively clear view of the stars above. Down below, the ship’s crew could make the varied geographic features of the planet’s surface, mostly reddish-brown rock formations. The freighter’s running lights snapped on as it soared over the silvery snake of a river, closing on a sizable cluster of man-made buildings.

Inside the Hawk-bat, Selusda Kraen swallowed hard, hesitating for just a moment before activating the communications display. He was more nervous than he let on, but these next few minutes depended on his persuasive skills. Behind him, Spectre, Daara, and Milya were standing over his shoulder, watching intently as he prepared to launch his latest and possibly most insane plan yet.
 * “Imperial base, this is the freighter Firebat. Acknowledge transmission,” he said, toggling the communications system on.

After several minutes, a rather bored voice responded.
 * “What do you want, civilian freighter?”
 * “I want to speak with your commanding officer.”
 * “It’s going to take more than that,” replied the Imperial. “You better get off this channel before I call for fighters to chase you off.”
 * “No, you listen to me,” Selu said. “Because it concerns the survival of your base and everyone in it.”
 * “Since you put it that way . . . No!”
 * “Look, Major, can you just take him a message?”
 * “It’s lieutenant, and fine, give me your message and get off this channel. Go off to the spaceport and stuff your face or whatever you civilians do.”
 * “As a representative of the noble Order of the Jedi Knights, I do charge the Imperial garrison to immediately commence a permanent and final withdrawal from the Yanibar system, never to return. The consequences for defying this mandate will be severe, and the use of lethal force is authorized. You will be given a reasonable amount of time to withdraw, but do not underestimate us,” Selu said formally.
 * “You’re kidding, right? Because that wasn’t funny at all.”
 * “Here’s a demonstration.”

Selu shoved the throttles forward, accelerating over the base before its air defense systems could respond. Arming a proton torpedo, he launched it out of its tube on a trail of argent flame before it impacted in an open starfighter hangar in a giant fireball. Before the missile had even struck home, he had swung the Hawk-bat around and targeted the primary communications relay. A sustained burst of laser cannon fire slagged the tower, denying the base long-range communications. A second and third torpedo, the last of the ship’s magazine, turned the shield generator into a burning pile of wreckage. Standing the Hawk-bat on its tail, he soared into the sky again, out of range of the base’s guns.
 * “Do I have your attention now?” he asked calmly.

There was a delay before anyone replied, but when it did, it was a new voice.
 * “Hostile craft, this is Commander Ilkhan. Any last words before we blow your ship out of the sky?”
 * “Commander, I advise you to surrender and begin withdrawing,” Selu said. “There’s no shame in yielding to superior firepower.”
 * “Even if I could follow that ridiculous suggestion, why would I surrender to one freighter? This world belongs to the Empire, and it’s going to stay that way. Ilkhan out.”
 * “They’re launching fighters,” reported Spectre.
 * “He had his chance,” said Selu, switching over to another frequency. “Sarth, commence fire.”

One-point-oh-three seconds later, the time required for light to travel from the Griffin to the Yanibar base, six brilliant green beams sliced through the atmosphere and impacted on the Yanibar base, instantly disintegrating thirty percent of it. Subsequent barrages exacerbated the damage. The permacrete laid on the ground as roads simply evaporated while buildings utterly disintegrated in clouds of burning gas and debris. The two fighters that did manage to get off the ground were easily picked off by Milya and Daara on the Hawk-bat. And still the turbolaser fire continued. The deadly green bolts continued to rain down on the base, ruining even the foundations of the buildings as the entire garrison was set ablaze. They could see explosions as stores of fuel and other inflammables were ignited by the searing heat. Selu felt the cessations of life in the Force and was saddened by it, but the Imperials had left him little choice with their stubborn refusal to surrender. Not that he really had expected them to, but it had not been his preferred option to kill all of them. Finally, when the base had been completely razed, Selu signaled the Griffin to cease fire. Slowly, he flew the Hawk-bat over the burning wreckage, but there was no sign of any remaining Imperial. Nothing could have survived the raging firestorm he was seeing, fueled by Yanibar’s high winds.

Turning the ship around, he set a course for Ayarollah, comming Sarth to bring the Griffin into the atmosphere. Landing just outside the settlement, the Hawk-bat was soon surrounded by Zeison Sha. Selu sensed them and knew they were close, but they were taking great care to hide themselves, as they didn’t recognize the ship. He lowered the boarding hatch and stepped out, his hands high and empty.
 * “People of the Zeison Sha,” he announced. “I, Selusda Kraen, have returned to fulfill my oath. The Empire on Yanibar is no more. Their base is completely destroyed.”

One by one, people began emerging from the rocks and grass, approaching the ship as Spectre, Milya, and Daara descended down the ramp.
 * “I bear witness to this,” Daara said. “The Imperial base is utterly gone.”

Olno Mada walked forward to greet Selu, wonder in his eyes.
 * “How is this possible?” he asked.
 * “The Empire’s own weapons have been turned against them,” Selu replied. “Your people are free.”
 * “You truly are the heir of Revan,” Mada replied. “The ruling council will have no choice but to grant your request. You will have your refuge.”
 * “Not my refuge-our refuge. Do you have a place picked out?”
 * “I do, but why the hurry?”
 * “I have a large number of guests on our way, fellow Force exiles who have joined us.”
 * “More Jedi?”
 * “No. Some are Matukai; others are Jal Shey, but they all serve the light side of the Force. They have come here to seek shelter and a new life.”
 * “For now, they can stay at Ayarollah,” Mada said. “We will show them the hospitality of the Zeison Sha.”
 * “Thank you,” Selu said. “May I suggest that your warriors stay alert, in case of scattered Imperial patrols that might have survived.”
 * “Of course,” Mada assured him. “We haven’t lived this long from not being cautious.”

Several hours later, the Griffin and the Jal Shey’s dilapidated transport began descending into the atmosphere, guided towards Ayarollah by Selu. The two larger ships set down about a kilometer away for safety reasons, raising a large cloud of dust, but a full Zeison Sha welcoming committee was on hand to greet their new neighbors once the two ships had set down. Selu watched from a distance as Matukai embraced Jal Shey and were embraced by the Zeison Sha. Their mission had been completed: the Force exiles had come together and Revan’s quest was over. It was as if a huge weight had been lifted from his heart, and a lump formed in his throat as he watched the scene play out. Sure, there would be challenges to come, but the crew of the Hawk-bat had done what the Jedi Order had failed to do for millennia. Necessity had brought them together, but friendship and loyalty would bind the four groups together, and he would do his part to help cement those ties.
 * “Hey, Selu, there you are,” Sarth said, walking over to the promontory where Selu was standing.

Selu quickly composed himself and turned to Sarth.
 * “What is it?”
 * “There’s something on the Griffin you should see. Right now.”
 * “All right.”

The two practically ran back to the larger ship, moving through knots of Zeison Sha, Jal Shey, and Matukai. Once aboard, Sarth led Selu to a large hold at the bottom of the ship, where Cassi was waiting for him, in front of a sealed door.
 * “What is it?”
 * “Here,” Cassi said, pointing at the screen.

Selu looked, activating the cameras inside the hold. To his surprise, there were thousands of quadrupedal insectoid aliens covered in chitinous plates, apparently prisoners of some kind, and he realized that these were the captives he had sensed during the battle. Looking closer at one of the aliens, he connected their appearance with one of the myriad species he had learned about while in the Jedi Order.
 * “What are they?” Sarth asked.
 * “They’re Xi Charrians,” Selu said. “An insectoid hive-mind race renowned for their dedication to engineering. Ever heard of Haor Chall Engineering? It was run and led by Xi Charrians. They made most of the Separatists’ better hardware during the wars.”
 * “What are they doing here?”
 * “Apparently, they’re prisoners of some kind.”
 * “Okay, but why?”
 * “My guess is that they’re slaves,” Selu said. “We already heard through some of Jorge’s friends of how the Empire raided Kashyyyk two and a half years ago, looking for slave labor. Xi Charrians would probably be even better slaves than Wookiees.”
 * “So what do we do now?”
 * “Open the door.”
 * “Selu, you don’t speak Xi Charrian,” Cassi said.
 * “I know,” Selu answered. “Do you?”
 * “No,” she answered. “I’m not even sure if humans can speak their language.”
 * “Don’t worry,” Sarth put in. “That’s why I brought NineSee from the Hawk-bat.”
 * “You could have mentioned that earlier,” remarked Cassi.
 * “Sorry,” Sarth replied.

As the heavy blast door to the hold slid open, Selu walked in calmly, even though he was quite apprehensive. The aliens’ attention was all immediately focused on him, or so it seemed, the red slits of their eyes focused on him. They began clicking to one another, apparently their form of speech, and Selu quickly beckoned Ninesee forward.
 * “You do speak Xi Charrian, right?” he asked.
 * “Not at first, but I downloaded the language from one of the ship’s translation droids. It’s not a standard language, as I’m sure you’re aware, Master Kraen.”
 * “Good enough. Tell them that we mean them no harm and ask to speak with their leader.”

The droid complied, making a complex series of clicking noises that were painful to the ears, but apparently perfectly understandable to the Xi Charrians. Amidst the general bustle, a larger one of the aliens moved up on its scissor-like feet, so similar to the Vulture droids used by the Confederacy during the Clone Wars. The larger alien offered another series of clicks and chitters, which NineSee translated.
 * “This is the prelate, or leader. He speaks for this particular hive of Xi Charrians. They want to know who is speaking to them and why.”
 * “Tell him that I am Selusda Kraen, a Jedi Knight, and that he and his people are free now. The Empire won’t bother them anymore.”

After another two choruses of Xi Charrian speech, Ninesee reported back.
 * “They want to know why they should trust you.”
 * “Because of this,” Selu said, drawing his lightsaber, raising it in the air, and thumbing the blade on.

If he didn’t have the Xi Charrians’ attention before, he certainly had it now.
 * “I am the guardian of this world,” he said loudly. “No-one will mess with those under my protection without answering to me first. You and your people are free, free to return to Xi Charros if you so desire, or you may stay here and live in peace with us. We would be honored to count members of the Xi Charrians as friends.”

The droid translated again and the group of Xi Charrians buzzed and clicked amongst themselves until finally the incessant noise died down.
 * “The prelate says that he and his people would prefer to stay with their liberator. They say that if you are willing to protect them, they would like to live here, away from the Empire. They say they’ve already suffered enough during the wars.”
 * “Liberator, huh,” Selu said, closing down his lightsaber and turning to Sarth and Cassi with a gleam in his eye. “Never thought I’d be doing that particular job. Tell the Xi Charrians that we will do whatever we can to make up for what they have suffered under the Empire. Ask them why they were captured, what the Empire wanted from them.”

Ninesee went through the now familiar routine of translating both Selu’s words and then translating the prelate’s subsequent reply.
 * “The prelate states that a human named Doriana wanted them to serve as workers on some Imperial project. They had no choice in the matter,” came the protocol droid’s mechanically precise words.
 * “Tell him that we won’t require them to do any forced labor,” Selu said, wondering if such a concept existed in a society that revolved around endless perfectionism in one’s work. “Let them know that they are free to do as they please, as long as there is no conflict with the other inhabitants of the ship.”

The droid did so, and received the prelate’s reply.
 * “He thanks you for your words and the freedom you have given his people.”
 * “Let him know that he and his people are very welcome. Stay here and work with them, Ninesee; give them data on Yanibar and let them have run of the ship as long as they don’t wreck anything. Actually, let them tinker. I don’t think Xi Charrians are capable of destroying something mechanical, just improving it.”
 * “Very well, sir,”
 * “I’m going back outside,” Selu said. “All this insect-talk is making my ears hurt.”

Selu walked back out of the giant hold to where Cassi and Sarth had been standing, watching his interaction with the Xi Charrians.
 * “How’d it go?” Sarth asked.
 * “Pretty well. None of them attacked me, and I think we’ve gained some more neighbors.”
 * “I thought this was supposed to be a refuge for Force exiles,” Cassi said. “They don’t feel Force-sensitive.”
 * “They’re not,” Selu said. “But I thought about it, and there’s no reason why they can’t live here also, and they seem to want to. Besides, it could be handy to have a group of Xi Charrians around to fix things-no offense, Sarth.”
 * “None taken,” he replied. “I might want to get acquainted with them myself-could learn a thing or two.”
 * “Good idea,” said Selu. “Make sure you get something to plug your ears with, though. All that clicking and squeaking was enough to drive me crazy. But first, what other surprises have you found on this ship.”
 * “Well, two things,” Sarth said. “First, it’s not just a transport. It’s a factory ship.”
 * “Factory ship?”
 * “I was reviewing the schematics, and there are devices called molecular furnaces installed here. They can take matter, convert it into energy, and then produce other forms of matter.”
 * “What do you mean?”
 * “Say you had an old landspeeder and the blueprints for a fancy new one. If you had the schematics properly programmed into the computer, you could place the old speeder into the molecular furnace and it would spit out the fancy new one once it had enough matter to make it. It’s not that efficient, but it’s pretty fast.”
 * “Impressive,” Selu said.
 * “It seems to be experimental,” Sarth said. “I think I can get it to work, though.”
 * “Good work. Anything else?”
 * “One more thing. I was looking through the cargo bays,” said Cassi. “They’re mostly empty or filled with standard Imperial supplies, but then I found a false wall. I opened it up with a trick Jorge showed me and found all kinds of stuff.”
 * “What kinds of stuff?”
 * “It looked to me like a bunch of computer cores, but there were also lots of barrels that seemed to have Jedi relics in them.”
 * “Jedi relics?” Selu asked incredulously.
 * “There was one that was full of lightsabers. I didn’t open the others.”

Selu stood speechless for a moment, stunned at Cassi’s revelation. In the most unlikely of places, a treasure trove of Jedi artifacts had been practically given to him. He almost wished he had kept that Imperial advisor, Doriana, around, but he dismissed that thought, knowing that the man was a treacherous snake and a liar, not to be trusted.
 * “Show me,” he said, but before Cassi could do so, he was stopped by his comlink chirping.

It was Spectre calling from the Hawk-bat, so Selu activated the device.
 * “Go ahead, Spectre. What is it?”
 * “I took the opportunity to pull in any missed long-range messages from when we were out in Wild Space. It seems that we’re expected to be at a wedding in very short order. Something about Commenor.”
 * “Blast, Annita’s wedding!” said Cassi. “Sarth and I meant to tell you about that. And I’m supposed to be a bridesmaid too!”
 * “When is it, Spectre?”
 * “Three days from now.”
 * “No problem then; we still have time, Cassi. Don’t worry about it. We’ll rest here tonight and leave tomorrow morning.”
 * “All right,” she said. “I’ll call Annita and let her know. She’s probably been worried sick about us.”
 * “Certainly,” Selu said. “I’ll come, too. It’d be good to talk to Jorge again.”

Selu informed the rest of the Hawk-bat’s crew about their change of plans and then headed to the Hawk-bat to contact Annita and Jorge. Even though he was excited for his two friends, part of him still wished he was exploring the containers of the Jedi relics on the Griffin, but he knew there would be plenty of time for that later. With as much battle and loss as he and his crew had seen, it was important to take time to celebrate new life, new unions-to simply be carefree, to have some semblance of normalcy in their lives. Part of him was ready for a break from the tension of uniting the Force exiles. He and his partners had brought them together, and now they could take a well-earned rest.
 * Corrupter

To his great irritation, despite all the myriad other things he could be doing to oversee repairs to the ship, Lieutenant Ait Convarion found himself called down to one of the briefing rooms by the captain for some sort of special meeting. As soon as they had recovered the escape pods from the Griffin, Captain Nebulax had been spending a lot of time with the Imperial crew they had recovered, leaving Convarion to supervise repairs. The Star Destroyer was still heavily damaged, but at least they had limited sublight capability now. The other Imperial ships that had arrived too late to help had already dispersed, searching for the vanished Griffin. Soon, though, a hyperspace-capable tug would be arriving to tow the Corrupter back to an Imperial shipyard for thorough repairs, as Convarion had been told by the engineers not to expect hyperspace capability for several more days. However, overall things were going fairly well. Shield capability and some fire control were back online, and although the long-range communications array would need to be completely replaced, Convarion felt that he had done as well as could be expected. Not that Captain Nebulax, a demanding shipmaster if there ever was one, was expected to agree with that judgment.

Convarion walked into the designated briefing room to find Nebulax, Ajaur, an Imperial civilian and two Imperial lieutenants seated there around a small black table, awaiting him silently. Neither the civilian nor the lieutenants looked familiar to him, so he assumed they had been pulled from the escape pods. Strangely, though, Ajaur seemed more amiable than usual, which for him, meant the equivalent of moderate vexation for most people. Saluting Nebulax, who returned the salute, Convarion stood at attention until spoken to.
 * “Be seated, Lieutenant,” said Nebulax. “Inquisitor Ajaur called this meeting, and since you’re here, we can begin.”
 * “We are here to discuss the matter of our escaped Jedi. Since our encounter with them on Darlyn Boda, I have been gathering as much information as possible to learn the identities of our fugitives. Advisor Doriana here has been particularly helpful,” Ajaur said. “Our guests here seem to have all encountered these Jedi in some way, but their memories of these events are . . . vague at best.”
 * “Perhaps we should start by introducing everyone, sir” broke in Convarion, a dangerous move given Ajaur’s typical temperament. “I’m afraid I’m not familiar with the identities of everyone here.”

Ajaur glowered, but Nebulax made the perfunctory introductions, identifying Vrossh, Terthbak, and Doriana by name and rank. Once the captain was finished, Ajaur continued.
 * “If there are no more introductions to be made, I’ve learned that from our guests that there are definitely more than one Jedi involved. However, we don’t have their identities, aside from at least one human female, and our evidence team on Darlyn Boda has been unable to give me any useful information- a failing for which they will be punished. As you, Captain Nebulax, have been assigned to aid me in my search for fugitive Jedi, I was wondering if you or your subordinate here have anything of value to offer. May I remind you that as Imperial personnel, it is your duty to report all pertinent information.”
 * “I’ve told you everything I know,” Nebulax replied stiffly. “And I’m afraid it isn’t much.”
 * “Have you tried facial recognition against members of the Jedi Order, Inquisitor?” Doriana asked. “Tried to match the Jedi you encountered on Darlyn Boda with someone in our databases?”
 * “I did already try that,” Ajaur replied shortly. “Nothing came up. Either she was using a disguise, or she’s a new member of the Order, one we never knew about.”
 * “What happened to their memories?” asked Nebulax. “The much-vaunted Jedi mind powers?”
 * “Apparently so,” Ajaur said. “Even with my own skills in that area, I was unable to recover their memories. It’s like they were deliberately purged-a most frustrating occurrence indeed. And with this ship so badly damaged, it’s not likely that we can go chase them down.”

Convarion smiled tightly, then dropped his bombshell, the one that not even Nebulax knew about.
 * “Actually, Inquisitor, I may have something you can use.”
 * “What is that, Lieutenant?” Ajaur hissed.
 * “Before our communications relay was vaporized, we intercepted a pirate transmission between the Griffin and the Bloodwrath. It was encrypted, but I had some of our cryptologists look at it over the past several hours. I have the decoded results here,” he said, holding up a data cylinder.
 * “Play it,” Ajaur said.

Convarion slid the recording into the holoprojector and activated it.
 * “Audio only, I’m afraid. It was a short-range comlink transmission.”
 * “L’ladrab? L’ladrab, are you there?” rasped a harsh Devaronian voice. “Have you taken the bridge yet?”
 * “L’ladrab’s dead,” said a second voice, male, probably human. “But the Empire is no longer in control of this ship.”
 * “Who is this? Who’s there?” said the first voice.
 * “The name’s Micor Kraen. I’m from an, uh, independent group hostile to the Empire,” replied the second voice.
 * “Micor, whoever you are, if you’re against the Empire, then we’re allies for now. All my other ships are gone and they’re tearing the Bloodwrath apart.”
 * “Give me a moment.”
 * “That’s the entire transmission,” said Convarion. “Our experts have identified the first voice as that of the now-deceased pirate leader Sulan’bask, but I suspect that the second voice might be your missing Jedi.”

Ajaur sat quietly, contemplating this new information.
 * “Yes, that would explain the disturbance in the Force I sensed aboard the Griffin. It was vague, and I thought that it might have been due to some sensitive cargo on the ship, but the more I think about it, the more I know that I’ve sensed that presence before, on Darlyn Boda. Our old friends were aboard the Griffin.”
 * “And even if ‘Micor Kraen’ is an alias, it’s possible he used it in other locations,” put in Nebulax.
 * “True,” mused Ajaur.

Convarion’s comlink began buzzing and he quickly silenced it, looking distinctly abashed. He had thought the device had been turned off, but that apparently wasn’t the case. He gave Ajaur a tentative look, hoping that the interruption hadn’t drawn the Inquisitor’s ire, but Ajaur was gazing off into space, distracted or lost in thought.
 * “What is it?” Nebulax asked.
 * “Sorry, sir,” Convarion said sheepishly. “It’s the communications chief. I asked him to pull as complete of a dump from all transmissions we had received as he could from the remains of our memory files, since they were mostly destroyed or fried in the battle.”
 * “Well, answer it,” Nebulax said.

Convarion stood, activated the comlink, and listened intently to the communications chief, holding a hushed conversation off in one corner. When he had finished, he tucked the comlink away and returned to the table.
 * “Anything of interest?” Nebulax asked.
 * “Yes, sir,” Convarion reported. “We managed to retrieve the majority of the comm traffic we picked up. Most of it is battle data, pilot-to-ship transmissions, that sort of thing. There was one long-range transmission, though, for Inquisitor Ajaur.”
 * “For me?” Ajaur asked.
 * “Yes, sir,” Convarion said. “It was from Commenor.”
 * “You can take it here,” Nebulax said, determined to do whatever he could to foster Ajaur’s newfound attitude of cooperation. “I think we were just leaving anyway.”
 * “Very well,” said Ajaur.

The others filed out, leaving Ajaur to play the message on the holoprojector mounted on the center of the tabletop. A small quarter-size hologram of an Imperial Intelligence officer appeared on the table as the message began to play.
 * “To whom it may concern: I am Captain Norres of Imperial Intelligence and I have reason to suspect recent Jedi activity on the world of Commenor. For the past year, I have served as a liaison to local law enforcement there and have been quietly building evidence based on discrepancies in a case that was resolved several years ago. I routed my inquiries through some of the local officials, but was either rebuffed or given contradictory information. I believe at least one of them is hiding something, but I have yet to gain official permission to do something about her. However, there does seem to be sufficient evidence to suspect that a man named Micor Kraen was a Jedi Knight. His family currently resides on Commenor, but the locals have stymied all efforts to bring them in for questioning. I humbly request that this matter be passed on to the appropriate authorities to deal with as the Empire sees fit. End transmission.”

Additional data appended to the message revealed that it had bounced around from one office to another as various units and organizations tried to find someone else to pass off responsibility for the message to. Finally, some data pusher had apparently learned about Ajaur’s special mission to hunt down the Jedi and had sent the message to him. Ordinarily, Ajaur wouldn’t have bothered with handling such a small matter, but the mention of Micor Kraen was enough to capture his attention. If Kraen wasn’t actually an alias, but had living relatives on Commenor, they would almost certainly have more information on this individual. Under his finely honed methods of questioning and interrogation-euphemisms for torture in the Inquisitorius-they would talk, talk enough to lead him to this pesky group of Jedi so he could wipe them out once and for all.

Switching on the table comlink, Ajaur commed Nebulax and tried to once again assume the facsimile of pleasantness that had actually earned him the cooperation of this Force-forsaken ship’s crew.
 * “Captain, how soon can we be underway?”
 * “Not for awhile, I’m afraid,” Nebulax said. “We still have extensive repairs to complete.”

Ajaur pounded his fist on the table in silent frustration, but maintained his somewhat pleasant composure. He couldn’t afford to indulge himself now.
 * “Then prepare my shuttle for immediate departure. Also, I’ll need two squads of stormtroopers to accompany me.”
 * “As you wish, Inquisitor,” Nebulax said. “Will you need crew for the shuttle?”
 * “No, I have my own pilots,” Ajaur said. “Your mission with me is ended, at least for the moment. My final orders are to look after this ship and see it back to dock. I may have need of it later.”
 * “Of course,” Nebulax said, clicking off the comlink and turning to Convarion. “We’ve done it. We’re finally rid of our Inquisitor.”

Convarion nodded appreciatively.
 * “Indeed, sir.”

Nebulax took a deep breath, relaxing fully for the first time in months. After enduring all of Ajaur’s temper and abrupt orders, he was finally free to return to the business of the Imperial Navy-business which hopefully would see him back on his former command and with a less trying executive officer than Convarion.
 * “Captain Nebulax, a moment of your time,” said Doriana as the advisor walked up to him.
 * “What is it, Advisor?” Nebulax asked pleasantly.
 * “I’d like to accompany Inquisitor Ajaur, with your permission.”

Nebulax cocked an eyebrow quizzically.
 * “If he’ll let you, by all means, Advisor. You don’t need to ask my permission.”

Doriana thanked him and departed, leaving Nebulax to stare after the man incredulously. Why would anyone in their right mind volunteer to accompany Ajaur as far as the mess hall, much less to another world? Whatever the case, Nebulax was rather glad that the advisor was gone-the man had enough influence within the Empire to be rather problematic and he didn’t need another bossy civilian on the Corrupter. Nebulax returned his focus to the matters at hand; the hyperspace tug would be here soon and there was still plenty to do before it arrived. His part in this strange Jedi-hunting mission was over at last.

As Ajaur’s shuttle launched from the Corrupter and set a course for Commenor, Doriana found himself seated in the forward compartment behind the pirates, opposite Ajaur. The man had allowed him to accompany the shuttle without a single question, but Doriana was sure the man was curious about his intentions. For now, though, he simply combed down the black hair on his balding head and tried to make himself comfortable for the flight. It would be up to Ajaur to inquire as to his motives. For his part, Doriana was seeking some sort of recompense by aiding Ajaur in tracking down this Jedi. His mission had utterly failed-the Griffin had been seized, and not only was the ship gone, but so were his Xi Charrian prisoners and the Emperor’s special cargo. Now, his only chance of recouping his losses was to aid the Inquisitor in hunting down a group of rogue Jedi, who would hopefully lead him back to the Griffin. Doriana knew he had encountered them, knew they had taken over the ship, but his inability to remember what had happened plagued him. Even worse, the Emperor would not take his failure lightly-if he were to return empty-handed, the consequences would be most severe. Inwardly, he was desperate, knowing all too well what happened to those who failed the Emperor. After a massive dreadnaught designed to lay waste to a Jedi colony had completely disappeared two years ago, Palpatine had slowly executed the design team after killing their families in front of them in the same way. Even returning to Coruscant with a prize of Jedi heads might not be enough to save him completely. For all his past successes and considerable talents, Doriana found himself facing utter failure for the first time in his life and he didn’t like it. In fact, the very thought petrified him. He spent the rest of the journey uneasily. Ajaur and the stormtroopers barely spoke to him, and he was wrapped up in his own worries anyway. Fear and uncertainty were his companions and he couldn’t remember ever feeling this apprehensive or anxious. He was almost relieved by the time they got to Commenor.

21
Annita Daowot stared at the reflection in the mirror, barely able to recognize herself, barely able to contain the jumble of emotions inside of her. At long last, despite all the scares with Norres and the constant surveillance, she was finally getting married. Now, wearing the flowing dress she had picked out as Cassi stood behind her, making final touchups to her hair, she was a bundle of nerves. Annita could walk into a triple murder crime scene without batting an eye, make a holographic reconstruction of a face beaten to a pulp and never miss a beat, and examine a badly decomposed body without flinching, but now, she was incredibly nervous. So much had already gone awry with the planning, it had seemed, but her big day had finally arrived. Having Cassi and the rest of the Hawk-bat’s crew arrive in Munto the previous night had been a huge relief. They had slipped into Jorge’s Folly in the dead of night, crashing Jorge’s bachelor party. Annita had been extremely worried about them; they had been lost for several months and all of her discreet inquiries as to their whereabouts had come up empty. However, they assured her that all was well indeed. A wave of joy had overwhelmed her when Jorge had told her that they had returned, and Cassi and Sarth were more than happy to serve their assigned roles in the wedding party.

Now, most of the preparations were made. The dresses and suits had been suitable altered as needed. All the women had arranged their hair and makeup. The flowers were in place, the rings ordered and delivered. The officiator was ready in the main room of the chapel. The guests were filing in even as she spoke, leaving their names and best wishes on a datapad set up for that purpose. A pile of gifts was being collected and stored for their use after the honeymoon. Lena Kraen had reportedly created such a massive confection that the label “cake” barely seemed to fit. The reception was set up at Jorge’s Folly. The speeder that would take them to the spaceport for a honeymoon trip to the luxury world of Elshandruu Pica was waiting for them. Perhaps the only flaw was the sky was overcast, filled with dark clouds that threatened rain, but that could hardly be helped, and the wedding was indoors anyway, with covered awnings around the chapel to keep the guests dry during the exiting processional. In fact, Annita herself was one of the last parts of the various parts of the wedding. They were waiting for her.

She did the look the part, she decided. Her strapless dress was a delicate ivory color and left her shoulders bare. It shimmered in the light with a faint sheen as she moved in it, falling all the way to floor and sporting a sizable train. It would have been rather featureless except for satiny band around the top and a sculpted pattern across the front and center of the dress in a stylized depiction of a flower. Her normally straight hair had been curled and was fastened together behind her head with a silver clip, leaving curly locks to dangle down her back. Her necklace was a solid string of veda pearls and it matched her teardrop veda pearl earrings. She had already spent two hours having her hair and makeup seen to, down to the last exacting detail that she normally didn’t have time for. Her entire last two weeks had been consumed with these and other details, and now it was finally time. As she thought about it, a warm tear slowly snaked down her cheek as she stared at the mirror.
 * “What’s wrong, Annita?” asked Cassi, who had already donned her own sky blue gown and seen to her hair, makeup, and jewelry so she could help Annita with last-minute details.
 * “I don’t know,” she said. “I’m so happy, but I’m so worried, Cassi. I’ve been waiting for this for so long, but there have been so many scares.”
 * “What do you mean?”
 * “The Empire-they’ve had us followed, and there have been questions about Sarth’s family. Jorge and I have been so worried about all of you-it was almost too much to handle.”
 * “Everything’s going to be fine,” Cassi soothed. “We’re safe, you’re safe, and we won’t let anyone spoil this day for you. We’ve already made some arrangements to make sure you and Jorge get out of here without any difficulties in case the locals try anything cute. Besides, you look wonderful.”
 * “Do I?”
 * “Of course you do. You look just like the beautiful bride every girl dreams of being,” Cassi said, wiping the tear off of Annita’s cheek with a delicate handkerchief. “Now, just hold off on that crying or you’ll smudge your makeup.”
 * Annita smiled at her friend. “Thanks, Cassi.”

Then, the sounds of music echoed faintly into the dressing room, the triumphal notes indicating that it was time for the bridal party’s entry. The melody carried notes of joy, of happiness, of long-held hopes fulfilled-Annita and Jorge had specially chosen it.
 * “Time to go,” Cassi said, giving Annita’s hand one final squeeze.

Then, she took her place in the line-up with Annita’s two other bridesmaids, friends and colleagues from her Investigator’s office, and picked up her bundle of flowers. One by one, the bridesmaids exited the waiting room, walking sedately and serenely into the main sanctuary of the old Commenorian chapel Annita and Jorge had picked for the wedding. After they had all left, Samtel Kraen poked his head into the waiting room where Annita was still sitting.
 * “Are you ready?” he asked warmly.

Annita, blinking back more tears, nodded and rose. The older gentleman, resplendent in a dated but still elegant black suit, complete with jacket, coattails, and white gloves, offered his arm and Annita took it, walking through the door into the sanctuary. The music played by a small group of instrumentalists changed as she emerged, slowing to a more purposeful, resolute piece filled with emotion, both of joy and sadness. She hadn’t known she would feel this way when she had picked it, but it fit the occasion.

The crowd of gathered guests stood and turned to face her as she passed the first in a series of floral arches, about forty in all, with Jorge’s friends on her left and her own on the right, all in formal wear befitting the occasion. Slowly, she marched forward, her shoes making no noise on the red carpet that had been laid down on the center aisle and strewn with violet arallute petals. A professional holographer took holos from several angles as she walked down the halls, including from the wraparound balcony that encircled the chapel sanctuary and which had been also covered with floral garlands. Annita was vaguely aware that she was smiling from ear-to-ear, overwhelmed by the moment. She saw the happy and, in some cases, tearful expressions on her friends as she walked by, arm linked with old Mr. Kraen’s.

Then, she looked up at the raised dais, backlit by a stained glass window stretching from floor to ceiling, where Jorge, Sarth, Marsden, and Tapper, dressed in fancy black suits and smiling widely, were waiting on one side of a white-robed priest, a tradition hailing back to the days of more widespread organized religion on Commenor. On the other side, in sky-blue ankle-length dresses patterned after her own and holding bundles of fresh Commenorian flowers, were her three bridesmaids, joyful expressions on their faces. It was a serene, almost surreal moment for Annita as she passed each row, making her way up to the front, where Mrs. Kraen, Selu, and Milya were standing, beaming broadly. Everyone had gone to their best effort to make this an incredibly special day for her and Jorge and she welled up with gratitude to each and every person standing there.

Slowly, she and Samtel Kraen came to a stop in front of the three steps leading up to the dais. The older man, so much like a father to her, stopped and squeezed her hand one last time before letting her walk up the stairs to where the officiator and Jorge were waiting for her.
 * “Best of luck, Annita,” he said. “I love you.”
 * “I love you, too,” she said, fighting back tears for the hundredth time that day.

Several of her already married friends had told her that was how she would spend most of the day-trying to keep from crying and failing miserably. Well, they were certainly being proved right. Giving the old man a quick kiss on the cheek, she then turned and walked up the stairs, handing off her own bundle of flowers to Cassi, her maid of honor.

Standing opposite Jorge, who looked as handsome and as cleaned up as she had ever seen him, she smiled as she gazed into the eyes of her beloved. They took each other’s hands, both of them trembling with anticipation and nerve-wracking, and waited as the ceremony started.
 * “Dearly beloved-,” intoned the officiator, beginning the wedding ceremony.

Suddenly, he was interrupted as the main doors, the ones to the exterior of the chapel, flew open with a bang, revealing Norres in full dress uniform, hand on the pistol holster riding on his side, followed by a cordon of Imperial Army soldiers in khaki, stormtroopers in white armor, and even a few Intelligence agents in black.
 * “Why did you stop?” he asked, a smooth theatrical pose evident in his voice as he advanced down the aisle towards the center, to the complete astonishment of the crowd. “Here, allow me to continue. Dearly beloved, we are gathered here today to bear witness to the arrest of two suspected traitors to the Empire accused of collaborating with hostile insurgents, because that is what you are!”

The last dozen words were shouted angrily as Norres, complete with arm-waving, abandoned all pretense of smoothness and lost control of his anger.
 * “For too long, you have interfered with my investigation, and now you will suffer the consequences! Take them away.”

The two side doors also burst open, admitting even more Imperials, also with weapons at the ready. The party was surrounded on three sides by drawn blasters.

Annita stood in shock and horror, unable to believe what was unfolding before her. Her perfect day was being ruined, right in front of her eyes, and Norres had actually carried out his threat to arrest her and Jorge, to drag them off to some unspeakable prison where they would never again emerge from. It was almost too much for her to bear and she nearly collapsed, but Cassi held her up, supporting her, until she could stand on her own.

For his part, Jorge glared at the Imperial officer with a mounting fury, his fists clenched tightly at his sides. He, too, was shocked, but he was also enraged and he wanted nothing less than to personally squeeze the life from Norres’s pasty face by wringing his neck. The gall of the man to interrupt what should have been the happiest day of his life more than burned him and he was ready to charge the man single-handedly, even if it cost him his life. Jorgesoll Knrr was not going down without a fight.

Norres smiled gleefully at the wedding party as he advanced towards the front of the room, followed by several of his troopers. The guests stared at him belligerently, but he ignored them utterly, intent on his mission. Suddenly, as he approached the head of the aisle, a man, clad in formal wear like many of the other guests, except for the woman he had been standing next to, turned to stand squarely in his way.
 * “Is there a problem, officer?” the man asked.

Norres sized up this new unexpected obstacle. The man was tanned and looked fairly muscular, of average height and with black hair and dark eyes. His neatly trimmed goatee gave him the appearance of middle-aged, but Norres suspected he was less than thirty standard years of age. He had removed his jacket, standing before the officer in a black vest to match his pants and a long gray shirt. However, he bore no obvious weapons, despite his otherwise imposing appearance that seemed to radiate cool confidence.
 * “Out of the way,” Norres snarled. “Or you’re next.”
 * “I don’t think so,” said Selusda Kraen, for it was he.

A blur of metal flashed in front of Norres to Selu’s hand and, the next thing he knew, a pair of green lightsaber blades, one long and one short were glowing in front of him.
 * “Perhaps you were looking for me?” Selu asked, his voice dripping with menace.
 * “Ah, Master Jedi, so good of you to join us,” Norres said, his voice laden with condescension. “Let me extend to you an invitation for your untimely death.”
 * “In that case, Norres, you’ll be the first to die,” Selu said placidly.

At a hidden signal that he somehow didn’t see, the balconies came alive as fully two dozen heavily armed spacers appeared from behind the railing, blaster rifles at the ready. Three more lightsabers, two blue and one silver, appeared in the crowd. Somehow, Milya and Cassi had contrived their dresses to easily remove the lower hem from the knee to the ankle, allowing them to move for combat. Milya and Sarth both sprang into action, each leaping to land in front of one of the side doors to face the Imperials at each entrance.
 * “We were expected,” Norres said.
 * “That’s right,” Selu said. “I’ll give you one chance to surrender. Take all of this scum out of here and we’ll forget it ever happened.”
 * Norres smiled wickedly. “I don’t think so, Jedi.”

The stain-glass window shattered as a black thunderbolt broke through it, sailing over the wedding party and screaming with anger, red lightsaber already lit and swinging to strike as Ajaur broke into the room, aiming straight for Selu.

Selu blocked the powerful blow by crossing his lightsabers against Ajaur’s strike, but the impact knocked him into Norres and nearly drove him to the ground as Ajaur bore down on him.
 * “Everyone get down!” he ordered.

The spacers on the balcony opened fire on the Imperials, who returned the fire, even as the guests on the main floor ducked down amid their chairs. The Imperials on each side, though, barely had a chance. Milya was among them before they could even open fire, her lethal saberstaff scything through them. Sarth also launched into the group on his side, but was having a little more trouble until a red-skinned Twi’lek who had been standing in the guest rows innocuously vaulted over the rows of chairs, hurling spiked metal disks at his last two opponents, killing both.

Cassi stood protecting the wedding party, her own blue blade batting away any errant blaster bolts that flew towards them, her eyes blazing with the light of battle. The officiator opened a hidden hatch behind his podium, one that led to his chambers and out the back of the chapel.
 * “Everyone through the tunnel!” shouted Milya at the guests and wedding party. “Go row-by-row and keep your heads down.”

As the guests began making their way down the aisles at the side towards the exit, Milya and Sarth sprang into position to cover their exit while Cassi maintained vigilant watch on the dais. A pitched firefight was occurring between the spacers and the Imperials at the main entrance, but neither side had a clear advantage, as the Imperials had found cover behind several pillars that supported the building. While Milya and Sarth might have shortened the fight by coming to their aid, the carefully prepared plan required them to first protect the wedding guests and get them to the tunnel they had dug from the priest’s quarters to half a kilometer away in a speeder lot filled with getaway vehicles-one that was being guarded by Xlora and Kacheen.

Meanwhile, in the center aisle, Selu and Ajaur were dueling fiercely, oblivious to virtually everything around them. The red and green blades crossed again and again, back and forth. Ajaur managed to knock Selu down with a powerful overhand strike, but, just as he charged in for the kill, Selu telekinetically plucked one of the floral arches from its pillars and threw it at the Inquistor, stalling Ajaur long enough for Selu to scramble to his feet. His advantage lost, Ajaur growled and returned to combat, slashing his crimson lightsaber at Selu, seeking to break through the Jedi’s seemingly unflappable guard, his icy calm expression.

Norres, having been knocked to the ground by Selu, found himself in the position of being totally unnoticed. Scrabbling for his comlink even as he drew his blaster, he began calling for reinforcements and heavy weapons to encircle the chapel and take down all the occupants. Closing off the device, he searched around aiming for a target when suddenly a massive fist hit his face, knocking him back. The blaster was ripped from his hands and he looked up to see an enraged Jorgesoll Knrr pummeling him. Norres tried to defend himself, but the few blows he managed to land didn’t slow down the space in the least. Jorge hit his opponent over and over again, pounding his torso with repeated punches designed to punish. Then, he stood up, only to draw his foot back and kick Norres straight in the side. Hauling the man up bodily, Jorge slammed his face into the chairs of the first row, his mind focused on nothing else but beating the man who had caused this whole mess until even his own mother wouldn’t recognize him.

Norres gasped for breath, but leaned back and planted his foot into Jorge’s stomach, kicking the big man back just as he started to charge, and reached down to his boot to pull a hold-out blaster. He whirled around, firing twice at Jorge, but before he could fire a third time, a crimson bolt of energy burned through his chest at point-blank range. He looked up to see Annita Daowot staring at him mercilessly, a smoking blaster of her own in his hand. Furthermore, while his first bolt had grazed Jorge’s arm, his second had been batted away by Cassi, who, lightsaber ready, was now giving him a similar expression as Annita. As everything faded to black, Norres’s face retained the same astonished look it had taken after he had been shot. His eyes stared sightless, locked in eternal wonder of how thoroughly he had been hoodwinked.
 * “Cassi, get them out of here!” Selu shouted, even as he pushed Ajaur back.

Swinging his red blade in front of him in a vicious horizontal arc designed to delay pursuit, the Inquistor turned sideways and kicked out, catching Selu full in the chin, staggering him back. This time, Ajaur wasted no precious moments in following up, but Selu was ready for him yet again, blocking Ajaur’s stabbing attempt close in with his shoto while smashing him across the face with the butt of his lightsaber. Ajaur brought his blade back up high for a quick uppercut, but Selu bent his body back, the scarlet blade flashing centimeters above his face sending spots across his vision even as Selu launched into a series of quick slashes that burned through the tops of several chairs and toppled another floral arch, but also drove Ajaur back, until he was just about on the dais.

By now, Selu’s friends had evacuated the rest of the wedding party, leaving just the spacers, Daara, and the Jedi, battling it out in the chapel. Blaster bolts flew back and forth as the Imperials exchanged fire with the spacers. The balcony railings were charred and burned through from the blaster hits they had sustained, while the badly scorched pillars and strewn Imperial bodies bore testimony to the violence of the chapel’s defense. However, Milya, Daara, Cassi and Sarth were now holding off new attackers of their own from the dais, as fresh Imperials were attempting to break through the side doors and flank them. The sounds of battle now echoed through the chapel instead of wedding music and the fragrance of flower petals was replaced by the smell of burned flesh and blaster fire. The Imperials had already lost at least a dozen of their original number, but still they kept coming. What had been planned as a simple arrest attempt was turning into a grisly urban battle.

Selu was in some peripheral way aware of these developments, but he was forced to devote virtually his entire focus to battling Ajaur, who fought with more savage ferocity than anyone he had ever faced. Selu, however, battled with more confidence and skill than any of Ajaur’s other opponents, save Darth Vader, and the Inquisitor found himself pushed back to the dais. Sensing Cassi’s swing from behind that would slice him in half if it landed, the Inquisitor called upon the dark side and vaulted up and over the blow, landing on the overhead balcony, cackling wildly as Selu was forced to block Cassi’s blow to keep it from hitting him.

The air crackling with the power of the dark side, Ajaur snatched two statuaries off their stands and hurled them down at Selu, who jumped aside to avoid the two projectiles. As Ajaur prepared to throw another one, he was caught off-guard by Selu’s abrupt actions.

Selu had ducked and rolled to narrowly avoid the last missile, which had shattered on the ground and showered him with stone fragments. Gritting his teeth, he realized he had lost his shoto in his maneuver. However, he didn’t need it at the moment. His left hand sparked and a small green corona formed around it as he converted the Force into electrical energy. Thrusting his hand up at Ajaur, a sustained bolt of emerald Electric Judgment shot from Selu’s hand into Ajaur, and the surprise of the assault was such that Ajaur was thrown backwards by the attack, even though he caught most of it on his lightsaber blade.

That was enough time for Selu to jump to the balcony after the darksider. He landed cleanly, his feet planted and lightsaber ready in the double-handed vertical guard of Form IV. He faced Ajaur, ready to do battle once more.
 * “It’s time for you to realize the gravity of your error,” he said.
 * “It’s time for you to die!” shot back Ajaur, lunging forward.

Again, their blades clashed as both warriors put their full effort into the attacks, but the differences in their styles were evident. Selu’s movements were fluid, fast-paced, full of free-wheeling acrobatics and jumps, even on the balcony. Thankfully, there was more room to maneuver here, since the balcony at this end had been designed to accommodate a large choir, or perhaps an orchestra. Ajaur, in contrast, used powerful, wide swings combined with short, vicious stabbing moves that threatened to gut Selu on several occasions. They circled around and around each other, blades probing for openings in the other guards. Once they were drawn in close, they freely used punches and kicks, elbows and knees, heads and the butts of their lightsabers, leaving both fighters bruised and bloodied. Time after time, they came together in a brutal melee, only to break off and circle around again.

Ajaur stared balefully at his opponent, glaring at Selu as they broke apart yet again. Despite all of his tricks and subterfuges, he couldn’t outmatch the Jedi he was facing, and his men were making little headway against the Jedi and spacers. Selu returned his gaze evenly, and Ajaur knew that the man’s spirits had to be broken before he could prevail against the Jedi. He had never faced a full Jedi Knight in a straight fight, and this one was possibly more skillful than he was. Crying out in pain as Selu’s blade grazed his foreleg, leaving a trail of burnt flesh, he transformed his pain into anger and his anger into a pure manifestation of the dark side, exploding a telekinetic blast that threw Selu back and singed his skin and clothes. While he could have continued lunging at Selu, as he had previously, the tactic had been entirely unsuccessful. In fact, Selu had successfully countered all of his charges, and now his mobility was somewhat hampered. Instead, glancing down over the railing, he saw that Milya, the woman he had sworn would taste his blade, was almost directly under him, vulnerable to an attack from above. It would be an easy thing to kill her and catch the other two by surprise. They did not seem to be as skillful warriors as his adversary and, if he could kill at least one of the other Jedi, their spirits would falter and his men would have one less adversary facing them.

Roaring with wicked pleasure, he leapt over the rail, dropping like a bomb onto Milya, lightsaber descending for the kill. Selu Kraen, still recovering from the attack, saw Ajaur’s actions, knew it was too late to stop him, too late to reach him with his lightsaber. He had only one desperate choice and he instinctively took it in the split second of opportunity that presented itself. Calling his shoto from where it lay on the ground, he mentally ignited it and hurled it, spinning in a brilliant circle of verdant light, to intercept Ajaur before he could strike Milya.

The result could only be described as one in a million. The shoto whipped across Ajaur’s lightsaber hilt two centimeters before the blade, severing his right forefinger and thumb and destroying the weapon. Continuing across him, Ajaur’s eyes widened in deadly fascination as the spinning blade whipped right in front of them, then grimaced in pain as it scored a deep gash across his torso from right hip to left collarbone. Control of his jump lost, he plummeted to the hard stone floor, landing heavily in a soggy thump as Milya stepped aside to avoid being hit by the Inquisitor’s body.

However, the rest of the fight wasn’t going well. The Imperial assault had been redoubled, and more soldiers, almost entirely stormtroopers, were arriving than the spacers could handle. Several of them had already fallen.
 * “Get out of here!” Selu called to them as he called his shoto back to him and raced along the balcony to jump and down to land amidst a knot of stormtroopers.

His lightsabers flashed and burned as they stabbed or slashed through the Imperial armor and troopers like they were flimsi against a burning brand. The stormtroopers around him fell almost instantly and he leapt around the room, guided by the Force, drawing their fire, giving his spacer friends a chance to flee even as he cleaved through the Imperials.

Then, as the last spacer scrambled down the balcony stair to dive into the tunnel entrance, covered by the four Jedi on the dais, the side wall of the chapel-one that lacked any auxiliary rooms on it, unlike the other side where Annita had emerged from-exploded with a loud thumb and a cloud of flying masonry. Selu ducked away from the flying hail of rubble to see an Imperial TX-130T fighter tank, a fast lethal vehicle on the battlefield powered by swift repulsorlift engines and armed with laser cannon and concussion missiles, sitting just outside the chapel, having loosed a pair of its missiles to blow the wall in. Heavy laser cannon fire blasted away at more of the chapel, scattering Sarth, Cassi, Daara, and Milya. Thankfully, none of them were hit, but Selu knew they wouldn’t last long against the fighter tank. It was only a matter of time. Jumping up to a ruined balcony, Selu peered through the hole in the wall and was astounded to see fully hundreds of Imperial troopers surrounding the chapel. Apparently, they had decided to call in the local garrison and simply blast the entire chapel into tiny fragments. Dodging or blocking the inevitable sniper fire that his new elevated position brought him, Selu was rewarded when one of his deflections sailed back to hit the sniper. However, he was too exposed there, and when the tank’s turret cannons began traversing to track him, he leapt down to the ground again, before a pair of sizable scarlet energy bolts smashed into the wall near where he had been standing.
 * “They’re backing off,” Sarth shouted to him from the dais as Selu ran to join them.
 * “I know,” Selu said. “Time to get out of here.”
 * “Why’s that?” Cassi asked.
 * “They’ll settle for blowing this place up around us,” Selu replied.
 * “Talk about bringing the house down,” quipped Sarth. “What do we do?”
 * “We call for help,” Selu answered.

With a loud rumble of repulsorlifts, the Hawk-bat swooped down on the Imperials like a diving bird of prey. Spraying purple laser cannon bolts from the nose and turrets, its first target was the fighter tank, which it quickly destroyed in a large orange and red fireball. Roaring around for another pass, Imperial troop formations were the next target. Troopers that were directly hit were completely vaporized, while others were thrown into the air with severe burns from near-misses, their tissues superheated by the sudden release of energy as the laser cannon shots pelted the ground around the chapel. Blaster bolts popped up from the troopers, but the blasts of their shoulder arms merely hissed and sparked as the shields deflected them.

Kinman Doriana, one of several officers standing around the chapel observing the assault, had thrown himself to the ground as soon as the freighter had opened fire.
 * “Get us some air support!” he called.
 * “Already on the way,” replied the captain in charge. “Two minutes.”

However, they both knew that two minutes was an eternity in combat, the difference between life and death. Unfortunately for Doriana, he was about to become no-longer-living proof of that fact.

Little did Doriana or any of the Imperials know that the Hawk-bat’s arrival was only the latest part of the plan, a contingency measure that Selu, Spectre, Sarth, and Jorge had cooked up. While most of the wedding guests had already taken the rental vehicles and escaped from the speeder lot, Spectre had leisurely flown the Hawk-bat from the spaceport over to the lot as soon as Selu had sent him the signal. There, he had picked up Jorge, Annita, Samtel, Lena, the two Matukai, and all of the surviving spacers who had defended the chapel before doubling back to pick up the rest of the crew. Now, Samtel and Jorge were manning the bridge with him while the Matukai, Marsden, and a very angry Annita Daowot manned the turrets, the blazing purple fire standing out against the dark and angry sky.

From the cockpit of the Hawk-bat, Spectre continued around for one more run, the ship’s lasers belching fire from the turrets and nose emplacements, but knew he had to set the ship down soon to evacuate his friends. Imperial fighters wouldn’t be far away and their presence would make it virtually impossible to rescue his friends. Lowering the ship as close as he dared to the chapel, he handed the controls over to Jorge and headed aft towards the boarding ramp.
 * “Don’t lift off until I give the signal,” he said.

Spectre was down the ramp at a sprint, back in full armor again, carrying his trusty blaster rifle, drilling accurate shots through several Imperials who were creeping up to ambush his friends. Four more spacers fanned out around the ramp, firing at any Imperial who dared show his head.
 * “Come on!” Spectre shouted to Selu and the others. “Get aboard.”

They needed little encouragement. Sarth and Cassi, the closest to the Hawk-bat, came running through the missile-created hole in the wall first, their blue blades batting away the blaster bolts that still flew by them. Daara, Selu, and Milya weren’t far behind. Suddenly, a repeating blaster opened fire on the boarding ramp, dropping one of the spacers, and Spectre spun. Quickly sighting in on the gun emplacement, he fired his underslung minirocket, blasting the repeater to pieces. The tactical absurdity of standing out in the open, firing at targets of opportunity, occurred to him, but he was beyond caring. At any rate, they were running out of time.

Sighting through the guns of her turret, Annita Daowot swiveled the gun around, looking for stormtroopers to blast. Her gun, on the lower side of the ship facing away from the chapel, had the best field of fire to hit the Imperials and she relished the opportunity to repay them for what they had done to her. Even as she tracked fire across a mortar team and a command speeder, which exploded and burned rather nicely, Annita spotted what she knew from her training to be a group of officers huddled among the grass of the chapel lawn. One of them, an older man whose black hair was just beginning to bald, stood up and pointed at the ship. While Norres wasn’t one of them, she was instantly reminded of him. Swiveling her gun to fire at them, she was angered to learn that it couldn’t traverse far enough, as she would hit the nose of the ship if she fired and the ship’s fail-safes prevented her from firing.
 * “Jorge,” she called over the intercom. “Targets at eleven-thirty!”

From the cockpit, Jorge glanced in the direction Annita had indicated and spied the group of officers. A wicked smile formed across his face.
 * “On it, dear,” he said. “Spoil my wedding, will you?”

With a short, controlled precision burst of the control jets, he swiveled the Hawk-bat just enough to bring the nose lasers to bear. Pulling the trigger twice, two pairs of purple bolts lanced out from the ship, blowing the officers into tiny pieces and setting the lawn afire. Imperials down.
 * “How’s that?” he asked.
 * “Better,” Annita replied over the intercom, mollified.

In response, though, the Imperials began raining mortar shells on the area. One hit near Selu and Milya, throwing both of them to the ground even as Daara bounded up the boarding ramp. Selu rolled to his feet painfully, wincing at the shrapnel in his arm, as Milya similarly struggled to her feet, grabbing for her saberstaff, which had been knocked loose from her hand by the explosion.

Then, the unthinkable happened. Out of nowhere, a black shadow slammed into Milya from behind. Selu saw with horrible, heart-stopping clarity as a bloodied hand grabbed her hair and yanked it back, pulling her down and to the right. The world was moving in slow motion, and every detail was seared into his mind. Rising from behind her was the bloodied and battered face of a wrathful Ajaur, laughing hysterically. Milya cried out in pain as the saberstaff slipped from her hand yet again and Ajaur’s left hand came up wielding a knife. Before Selu could even think, much less do anything, Ajaur had plunged the blade into Milya’s rib cage. A bright red spray of arterial blood gushing from the wound meant that he had stabbed her heart.

Milya screamed again as the blade entered her body. It was cold as ice, and while it didn’t seem to be a vibroblade, it hurt like nothing else ever had before. She felt her strength drain from her, her inner being torn open by the intrusion. Something warm spattered on her arm and she realized it was her own blood. Holding up her arm, she gazed listlessly at the red liquid flowing on her arm, then screamed again, with a volume and pain she didn’t know existed, as Ajaur yanked the blade out and dropped her to the ground.

At that instant in time, Selu’s vision transcended the physical realm that it was normally confined to, taking him into an entirely other place, as it had on a few rare occasions before. The scenery around him, the battle, the Hawk-bat, even Ajaur all faded away before an overpowering white light. There he stood, dressed in white, the injuries and grime of battle faded away, and Milya was there also, her own injuries gone and also dressed in white. She seemed fine, but Selu ran to her all the same. Shock and grief were already beginning to overwhelm him and all of his repressed feelings came bursting forth as if the floodgates of a dam had just been opened.
 * “Milya!” he called to the vision.
 * “Selu,” she said.
 * “Don’t leave me!” he shouted, but her image had already started to fade away.
 * “I think-I think it was meant to be this way,” she said sadly. “We were never meant to be.”
 * “No! I won’t let it end like this!” Selu yelled desperately, grabbing her even as she started slipping through his grasp, dissolving right in front of him.
 * “We can’t control everything, Selu.”
 * “Wait,” he said, gasping as salty tears flowed freely from his eyes. “Milya, I love you.”

It was too late, though. She was gone.

But then his vision faded, returning him back to what most sentients arrogantly called the physical world. The battle seemed to be at a temporary standstill, or Selu thought until he realized that everything still seemed to be playing out in slow motion. Milya was slipping to the ground, blood pouring from her wound onto her clothes, a crimson stain. Ajaur had yanked his knife out and was licking it, cackling gleefully, when suddenly, a red lance of pure energy hit his face, knocking him back instantly. Selu turned his head to see Spectre advancing, rifle at the ready, a grim, faceless avenger. Selu felt his death in the Force as the dark spirit that had ruled the man while he was still alive gave the mental equivalent of a shriek and passed away into the netherworld of the Force, but he gave it little more than a passing thought.

He ran forward to Milya, cradling her in his arms, his hands covered in her blood. To his amazement, she was still alive, using her last vestiges of the Force to slow the bleeding, to give her a few more seconds to say goodbye.
 * “Milya.”
 * “Selu,” she said wanly. “You should know. . .”
 * “No, you should know something,” he broke in. “Milya, I love you.”

Her eyes widened and she smiled slowly, coughing from the pain the effort caused her.
 * “I’ll see you on the other side.”
 * “No!” said Selu. “You’re not going to die.”

This time, he meant it. The Force swirled around him as he summoned every last bit of power in him and beyond. Calling its energy, Selu opened himself up, allowing it to fill him thoroughly. He felt Cassi’s presence in the Force, her gentleness and quiet strength, and drew on that. He sensed Spectre’s unwavering loyalty and passion and summoned it to himself. Sarth’s dedication and quest for truth washed into him as well. All of their strengths filled him, mixed with his own power, and he wove them together into a tapestry of light. His body was glowing with power, his eyes like the light of a thousand suns as he reached out and pressed his hand to her wound.

At that point, time didn’t just slow. It stood still for Selu, for Milya, for everyone who watched it. There was nothing but Selu, Milya, and the Force and he channeled every bit of power he had built up into him and released it through his hand, forcing the wound closed. By sheer willpower, he reached into the nuclei of her cells and triggered their replication, instigating the creation of additional deoxyribonucleic acid molecules and accelerating protein synthesis. The Force flowed through him as never before in his life and he directed all of its power into healing the injury. He felt Milya’s mind, and even more than her mind, her very inner being join with him and he drew on her knowledge of herself, allowed her body to direct the healing energy flowing through him wherever it was needed most. A pure firestorm of light surged through him and into her body, erasing the wound, restoring her life. Her heart, pierced by the steel of Ajaur’s blade, was reconstructed in nano-seconds, the controlling nerves once more stimulating the muscle to pump blood. The five-centimeter incision on her chest closed itself a thousand times faster than it normally would have. The bone marrow of her body was jump-started into overdrive replacing blood cells as the Force literally resuscitated her and gave her new life.

This was it, the purest essence of the Force, in that it gave life. The Jedi Masters had always said that life needed the Force-that it held the very essence of life, but Selu had never fully understood that until now. Now, as the power of the light side overflowed within him, he knew that this was a once-in-a-lifetime moment, that he would never again feel the Force on such a level. His whole being was devoted to this effort now, and if it failed, he would die too. He didn’t care. Every part of him cried out to succeed and he ignored the exhaustion, ignored his own pain from concentrating so hard, from focusing so much energy through his body. His own cells were being strained by the effort of sustaining such a great release of the Force. Still, he continued to pour the Force into Milya’s body, his mind untrained in the healing arts, but still instinctively repairing the damage. Finally, when he had nothing more to give, when every joule of energy had been sapped from his body, he withdrew his hand, gasping for breath, staring desperately at Milya’s face, willing her to respond.

Her eyes blinked and then focused on him.
 * “Wow,” she said. “What did you just do?”

Selu’s world peaked in relief as she spoke, moved her head. She was alive! He had done it, had saved the one that he loved. His joy knew no bounds and he could have sung out of sheer happiness, even as tears of relief sprang unbidden from his eyes, but he knew they were still in danger.
 * “Later,” he said. “For now, let’s get out of here.”

Time sped up again as he sprang to his feet and he helped Milya up. Dashing back under renewed Imperial fire, they followed Spectre in sprinting up the Hawk-bat’s boarding ramp and the ship lifted off, blaster bolts bouncing off the shields. Jorge pointed the ship nose to the sky and they blasted off, heading straight for space. Selu and Milya had collapsed on the deck, panting with exhaustion and shaking off droplets of sweat, but they slowly sat up as the freighter accelerated towards the freedom of space.
 * “You know what you said back there?” Milya asked him softly.
 * “Yes?” Selu said.
 * “The feeling’s mutual,” she said, her arms snaking around him as she pulled him to her, their lips meeting.

Selu relaxed into the kiss, tasting the sweetness of her mouth, prolonging it as long as he could. He had just been blown completely off Commenor, out of the Hawk-bat and off into deep space. Her lips were soft against his, and wild strands of her hair, dirty and sweat-soaked as they were, brushed against his face. He pulled her tighter to him and everything else blotted out except Milya, but in a completely different way than before. He could feel her heart beating against his chest, knew that she was as exhilarated as he was.When they finally broke for air, they were both grinning stupidly at each other.

A massive wave of relief swept over everyone onboard the Hawk-bat as the ship cleared Commenor’s atmosphere and made the jump to hyperspace, headed for Yanibar after several intermediate jumps to throw off any further pursuit. The Imperials had been slow to scramble their fighters, possibly due to some of Annita’s sympathetic colleagues, and they had gotten away cleanly.

Looking through the forward viewport in the Hawk-bat’s cockpit, Selu placed his arm around Milya as Yanibar grew larger and larger to fill the viewport. Though she had been healed, she was still weak from loss of blood and they had spent most of the trip resting and recovering from their wounds, per Cassi’s instructions. Only now, at the end of the trip, had she been up and active.
 * “We’ll have to start a new life,” Milya said, gazing at the planet. “All of us.”
 * “It won’t be easy,” Selu agreed. “Yanibar is not a tame world, and we’ve only just started unifying the Force exiles.”
 * “I can’t even start listing the challenges we’ll probably face.”
 * “There’s one thing that I know for sure, and that’s that we’ll meet them together.”
 * “You can count on it.”

Selu leaned forward, cupping her head in his again and they kissed again, their lips brushing gently at first, then more passionately as they drew each other closer, expressing the love they felt for each other. They knew in the bottom of their hearts that they belonged together, and nothing could change that. Spectre watched them kiss, saw the passion on Milya’s face, and knew that she had chosen. Though it hurt inside to admit it, he realized that he had never held the same place in her heart that Selu had, that he and Milya, while a great team and like-minded personalities, were not meant to have their fates intertwined as hers and Selu’s were. All of the foolish bickering beforehand seemed so pointless now. He accepted her choice, releasing his own desires, and wished them both well. As much as the pain was present, he was happy for them, even if it would take some time for him to heal.
 * “Well, I suppose that’s it, then,” said Spectre from the doorway of the cockpit as they broke apart.
 * “No, Spectre,” Selu said. “This is just the beginning.”

Epilogue
It was a sunny day on Yanibar a full month from that fateful day on Commenor, the clear weather a sign of the future beginning to unfold. Two couples stood, each pair hand in hand, on a rocky slope, gazing into each other’s eyes, flanking a crude altar made of stone. Around them on the lower slopes were gathered friends and neighbors, family and comrades, joined together to celebrate the start of something new. It was a day of celebration, a day of festivity, and while it wasn’t what anyone had expected, it was beautiful in its own way, even if it wasn’t idyllic.
 * “Jorgesoll Knrr, do you take Annita Daowot to be your wife, to love and cherish as you have vowed?” asked Olno Mada, presiding over the wedding.
 * “I do,” said Jorge, gazing into the eyes of his beloved.
 * “And do you, Annita Daowot, take Jorgesoll Knrr to be your husband, to love and cherish as you have vowed?
 * “With all my heart,” she said. “I do.”
 * “And do you, Sarth Kraen, take Cassi Trealus to be your wife, to love and cherish, as you have vowed?”
 * “I couldn’t ask for anything more,” Sarth said, filled with bliss. “I do.”
 * “And do you, Cassi Trealus, take Sarth Kraen to be your husband, to love and cherish as you have vowed?”
 * “I do,” she answered, tears of happiness flowing down her face.
 * “Then, by power of the Force and the love that is between each of you, I pronounce you man and wife,” Mada proclaimed. “Gentlemen, you may kiss your bride.”

As they did so, the audience burst out clapping and cheering to celebrate the unions that had just occurred. The rest of the day was spent in song and dance, in the making of good food and even more the eating of it. Stories were told and new friendships were made while old ones were rekindled. Lovers proclaimed their feelings for another and sentients of all ages and species forgot their troubles and hardship, reveling in the newlyweds’ bliss.

It had not turned out as they had planned, but the union of the Force exiles had been achieved, Selu mused, and also the union of his dear friends and his brother, Sarth, with the loves of their lives. Against all odds, they had overcome the inherent difficulties and brought together rival traditions to begin a new life on Yanibar. In time, the harsh world would be a land of promise, made into a home by the diligence of its inhabitants and with the aid of the Force.

As promised, the Zeison Sha had joined with the others and offered Yanibar as a world of refuge for those fleeing the Empire, particularly those strong in the Force. With Olno Mada’s help, the entire community was building a new settlement in a large basin surrounded by high mountains, largely sheltered from the weather and adjacent to a large sea, though Selu felt that investing in some weather control technology would create even more stability from Yanibar’s harsh climate. The world’s only spaceport was within twenty kilometers, allowing both trade but also plenty of distance to discourage curious offworlders, a safe buffer zone. Also, the Griffin had proven to be a virtual treasure trove, packed with more than he could have imagined in the way of holocrons, lightsabers, datacards, and other materials. Selu wasn’t even sure what everything in there actually was, but he planned to spend long hours finding out. The settlement was coming along well. A governing council of Jal Shey, Zeison Sha, Matukai, and others had been formed and, to Selu’s relief, one of the first things they had agreed was that anyone should be allowed to choose how to study the Force in a way they chose, provided they did not fall under the sway of the dark side of the Force, speak heresy, or marginalize another tradition practiced on Yanibar. A concordance of respect was established at that meeting, as well as a few other things. Backed by the Zeison Sha, Selu had been named the head of the defense forces-one of the few organizations that was to draw its members from any of the Force traditions or enclaves of the inhabitants. His father, Samtel Kraen, had also been named to the governing council. With the council’s permission, Selu had also picked Spectre to be the head of the ground forces while Milya was designated the head of intelligence, due to their respective backgrounds. Both of them had been approved, and Selu had been working with both of them and Sarth to establish a defense force to protect the planned city and the entire settlement.

It was to be called Union City, a testament to the merging of many people to form one, and it was not to be controlled by one group, but a shared place filled with harmony. Though in practice true unity would probably not be as easy as in principle, Selu knew that each member of the governing council was dedicated to the idea of unity, having been won over through the efforts of him and his crew. For his part, Selu would do all he could to protect the refuge of Force users. Spectre had already started forming a militia and Milya’s first agents would be leaving shortly for Bespin. Jorge and Annita, though grateful to Selu and his friends for all they had done, had no desire to remain on Yanibar. Instead, they chose to move to Bespin, an independent Tibanna mining and casino world where Jorge had friends. They would help Yanibar from there, aiding their friends whenever they could and funneling needed items discreetly; as part of a new business venture, Jorge and Annita were opening a shipping company. Selu wished them well, as their efforts would be essential to what Sarth had dreamed up. His brother, though Selu still found it hard to believe, had started a defense company, Kraechar Arms, and the Xi Charrians had agreed to work with him on new designs. Kraechar Arms would supply his force, the Yanibar Guard, with weapons and gear, and eventually ships, for Selu knew they would need a navy, as well as producing export models for sale to finance the settlement. They were off to a good start indeed, and Selu trusted that his brother would handle it well, from creating effective products, to treating his workers properly, to caring for the environment as the industry grew. They had already received a jump start due to the molecular furnaces on the Griffin, but also from the results of the data file the pirate had given Selu, which had contained a set of coordinates. Traveling to that location, the crew of the Hawk-bat had found a massive Separatist arsenal from the Clone Wars, long abandoned, but still with plenty of weapons to spare. With the sudden end of the war, its owners had deserted it and nobody else had yet to find it. For now, it was their secret arms repository, but Sarth and Jorge had planned on funneling some of the weapons onto the black market as an income source.

One last doubt niggled at Selu’s mind, though, and that was the prophecy he had been told of by the Zeison Sha and by Revan. Yes, they claimed him as the heir of Revan and the one he loved had been pierced, but Srynassa’s warning came back to him. He had clearly chosen the path of his heart’s desire, sacrificing much to save Milya. Now, if the spirit had been right, any confrontation he had with the Sith would lead to his downfall. The Jedi apparitions hadn’t been wrong yet and Selu had no desire to test their veracity if the fate of this settlement and all he had worked and bled for was at stake. However, he knew deep within him that his attachment to Milya-and her attachment to him-prevented him from ever taking the chance to confront the Emperor and Vader himself. He could not in good conscience sacrifice everything as long as he held her dear, and he knew he would forever love her with all his heart. Perhaps this was his loss, though, sacrificing his opportunity to free the galaxy from the Empire, or at least die trying. For better or for worse, Selu had made his decision and now he would have to live with it. He had chosen the path of love, to cherish Milya, and in doing so, had relinquished the duty of intervening in the fate of the Sith. Now, his life was devoted to defending and keeping his refuge a secret from the forces of darkness, and if the Force was with him, passing that role on once his time was over. If the Jedi and the light side of the Force were to rise again, they would need a safe place to hide until the time was right, and Selu was prepared to give them that. One day, the galaxy would somehow be freed from the clutches of the Sith, but not by him.
 * “Selu?” called Milya as she walked over to where he had been sitting, staring into a flickering fire, lost in thought.
 * “Yes?
 * “You’re missing out on all the fun. Come on, dance with me.”
 * “As you wish,” Selu said, allowing her to lead him off to join the merrymaking, knowing that he already laid the first steps of hiding the refuge.

His new life awaited him.
 * Scout ship Enquirer 

Lieutenant Almos Terthbak nodded with satisfaction as his new command, the Enquirer, shot from hyperspace and rapidly accelerated towards the world of Yanibar without any hitch whatsoever. His crew were all seasoned explorers, veterans at this job, and they needed little reminder of how to do it properly. Flexing the fingers of his new artificial hand, Terthbak watched as the planet they were assigned to scout swelled into view in his forward viewport.

After being transferred off the Corrupter, Terthbak and his crew had been evaluated, and while their less-than-satisfactory performance had doomed Terthbak from the rapid advancement he had once dreamed of, he no longer cared for it. During his time on the Observant, he had come to respect and appreciate his fellow crew-admittedly mostly because of Jasnan-but he no longer maintained his same pompousness. His performance had caused him to be indefinitely assigned to scouting instead of to real warships, but Terthbak now welcomed the duty. It was an entirely different Lieutenant Almos Terthbak that took command of the Enquirer, a newer, upgraded model of the class that the Observant had belonged to. Even though it was a similar mission and with the same crew, Terthbak approached his new tour with an entirely different, more positive outlook.
 * “I’m detecting an Imperial satellite beacon, sir,” reported Warrant Officer Sandy Neach, his sensor officer. “It’s broadcasting continuously on an open frequency.”
 * “What’s the message?” Terthbak inquired.
 * “It’s a warning. According to the message, the planet was devastated by a virulent plague that rapidly mutated and resisted of all their attempts to find a cure, spreading rapidly. It drove its victims into a maddened rage before killing them. The surviving troops boarded their ships and obliterated the base to prevent contagion to any surrounding locals. However, the disease had infected their ships as well, and they self-destructed rather than carry it back to other worlds. They warn all Imperial ships to venture down here at their own risk, as humans are extremely susceptible to this disease.”
 * “I see,” Terthbak said. “Warrant Officer Jasnan, keep us well out of the atmosphere and away from the planet. We’ll conduct our scans from long range. Warrant Officer Neach, is there anything else?”
 * “There are small clouds of debris consistent with wreckage from destroyed Imperial ships, sir,” Neach reported. “The Imperial base has been utterly razed. Looks like turbolaser impacts. No other major disturbances present on the planet.”
 * “And the Jedi-detector?”
 * “One second, sir,” Neach said, fiddling with the device, identical to the one that had been installed in the Observant.

Several tense seconds followed as the unorthodox scanner swept the system for any trace of Force-sensitives or Force-strong locations. Finally, the device pinged, signaling that it had completed its sweep.
 * “Nothing, sir. Negative results.”
 * “Very well,” Terthbak replied. “I’m going to file this world as officially quarantined; Imperial ships should avoid it at all costs to prevent contamination. Officer Jasnan, will you set us a course out of here? We have a schedule to keep.”
 * “Yes, sir,” she said. “And you can call me Jas. All the others do.”
 * “Thank you,” Terthbak said sincerely. “I just might do that.”

The Enquirer altered its course on an outbound vector, powering up its engines and shot off into hyperspace in a flicker of psuedomotion, off to its next destination. Little did its crew suspect that their intended quarry had been right under their nose the entire time, hidden by an illusory manifestation of the Force set in place by its guardians and protected by the false threat of deadly germs. For such people, devotees of the light side of the Force, were a plague to the darkness of the Sith, a threat to their dominion more threatening than any disease. In time, they could grow to become a powerful foe, but for now, they were waiting, biding their time. One day, their hour would come. When it did, they would be ready to rise up and answer the call of destiny.