The planning thread can be found here.


Coruscant.

Two months after Order 66, and the holochannels were still playing up the assassination attempt on Palpatine. With every new broadcast in the relentless media blitz the Jedi became more and more the monsters, depraved and power hungry, evil to their very souls. Lyton couldn't decide what was worse - the propaganda, or the fact that so many in the Republic were starting to believe it. Only, he thought with a wince, It's not the Republic anymore. It's the Empire.

The thought brought a fresh rawness to Lyton's nerves. He'd been a Jedi once, before the order had fallen to Palpatine's sinister machinations. A full fledged knight, almost ready to take a padawan. Now… now he was a fugitive, hunted by the very galaxy he'd devoted his life to serving and protecting. People who once looked to the Jedi to solve their problems would now turn him in without a second thought. Friends had become enemies, and some days trying to survive it all just didn't seem worthwhile. It was days like that - days like today - that Lyton found refuge in any number of the seedy bars that dotted Coruscant's lower levels.

He didn't know exactly why he'd stayed after the Temple Massacre. Perhaps it was some subconcious death wish, a survivors guilt urging him to make amends for his failure. Or maybe it was his desire for revenge - a most unseemly emotion for a Jedi, but one that Lyton could not deny he felt. He studied himself in the mirror behind the bar, noted the haggard look he wore. He fit into this place, this crowd. He'd even taken to dressing like them, tossing aside his Jedi's robes in favor of brown cargo pants and an olive drab sleeveless t-shirt. His feet were clad in the heavy, buckled work boots favored by spacers. His hands were swathed in the sort of leather gloves swoop bike racers liked to wear, the ones with no fingers and holes for your knuckles. He'd even let his black hair grow shaggy and slightly unkempt.

Nobody would have known by looking that he'd once been a proud and confident Jedi Knight.

Nobody, that is, but the man who slid onto the barstool next to Lyton's. He seemed innocent enough at first, merely ordering a drink and grabbing a handfull of nuts from a dish on the bar. But then he turned to Lyton, looked him over for a moment, and said "You're a hard man to find, Mr. Aeros."

Lyton jerked as if he'd been slapped, and quickly scanned the bar via the wall mirror. No clone troopers in sight… but that didn't mean they weren't outside waiting to burst in. Lyton cursed silently. He'd been too carless, made one too many mistakes. Nonchalantly, he lifted his right foot from the floor and placed it on the barstool's footrest. The large pocket on his right thigh had had it's insides cut out… all he had to do was reach into it, and he'd be able to grab the lightsaber strapped to his leg. "I don't think I know you," Lyton replied calmly. He frowned as he spoke. The force was telling him something was off about this man, but for the life of him he could find no immediate danger.

The man, whoever he was, took his drink as it was set before him and smiled. "No," He acknowledged, "I don't believe you do. But that's about to change. Come, sit with me. We need to discuss things somewhere slightly more private." He stood, began walking to an unoccupied corner booth in the shadowed rear of the establishment. Curiousity getting the better of him, though still suspicious, Lyton followed.

They settled into the booth, quietly sipping at drinks. Finally, the man spoke again. "I'm sorry if I alarmed you. Blindsiding a… that is, somebody of your talents, has never been a good idea… I imagine it's even less so these days." Lyton could only nod, right hand resting under the table next to his thigh and his hidden lightsaber. The man continued, voice lowered, "Do you know how many others survived the attack on the temple? Don't worry, that's a rhetorical question. I'm not sure, myself. What I can tell you is-" The man broke off mid sentance, eyes narrowing as he glanced suddenly at the door. Lyton didn't have to look, he could already feel the presense of clone troopers outside the bar. Maybe it was just a routine raid… then again, maybe not. He heard a blaster slip from it's holster, and gave the man an inquiring look. "They're not with me," He said, "If that's what you're thinking."

Lyton reached into his pocket, hand resting on the reassuing coldness of his lightsaber. The troopers entered the bar, battlescarred white armor at odds with the darker colors of the patrons clothing. Only three so far… but undoubtedly more outside. The troopers looked around for just a few seconds, their gazes seeming to settle on Lyton's table. Just my imagination, he told himself, they're not looking at me…

The lead trooper raised his arm, pointed at the man sitting across from Lyton. "You! You and your companion are under arres-"

Before the last syllable was complete, Lyton's lightsaber was in his hand and the mystery man had overturned the booth's table. Blaster fire errupted a split second later, accompanied by the deadly hum of a lightsaber blade.

Re: After The Fall

One Month After Order 66

Every colorful banner representing every single world in the Galactic Republic– now the Galactic Empire– hung absolutely straight, displayed without a wrinkle. Everything was in order at the main auditorium of the Imperial Palace on Coruscant, which was now becoming rechristened Imperial Center.

Emperor Palpatine nodded. It was just the way he liked it. His servant, Darth Vader, posed alongside him clad in his dark armor supervising the masses who stood before them.

Three hundred Imperial officers stood at attention in the echoing hall, motionless in perfect ranks. Behind them, legions of clone troopers stood poised with their weapons at parade rest. Members of the 501st, Star Corps, Nova Corps, the 212th Attack Battalion, and the famed 41st Elite Corps made no move and stood rigid as statues. They were identical, intensively trained, precise military machines. These officers and clone troopers were the best of the best who served in the Clone Wars. Only the most experienced officers were considered for what was to come.

The hooded form of the Emperor moved toward the podium to address them, followed alongside by Vader. Palpatine drew himself up, trying to look larger than his short stature allowed. The white helmets of the troopers along with their officers, clad in olive tunics, turned in unison to give their attention.

"Heros of the Empire," he rasped, "you have been chosen to lead the most important mission since the abolishment of the Republic and the rise of our new Empire. You have endured hardship and passed many trials during these last months against the Seperatists. Now, I have chosen you as the elite, the heros of the Empire, the best officers and legions remaining after the Seperatist Wars."

Since receiving the long-awaited orders from Lord Vader, after a brief rest after returning from his victory on Murkhana, one of the last strongholds of the Seperatists, Captain Maximillian Dodonna had plotted this mission with extreme caution after being commended for his brave actions in battle. Now at the age of thirty-one and a decorated officer, he was granted captaincy of a Venator-class Star Destroyer. He had studied the personal data of hundreds of the best officers available to fill her ranks aboard the christened Eradicator.

From these, he had chosen one officer that stood out to qualify as his XO: Jared Koortyn. He was a young, but dedicated officer with a fine service record and had graduated with high marks. It was only a shame that he could not recruit his best friend, Tyrell Dunn, in which they both served in the academy together, but seperated when Tyrell decided to pursue his military career in the engineering corps. Last he heard, he was designing a new class of starfighter which would replace the V-wing, which Dodonna thought was a challenge to accomplish. The last time he had visited his friend was a year ago when his son, Traven, was born.

At the thought of this, Dodonna smiled inwardly as the Emperor continued in his speech. The new captain could not help but think about the woman he loved, Sirannon Dodonna, his wife– or Sira for short. After returning from Murkhana and taking leave on Coruscant to spend time with her, she announced at dinner she was pregnant with their first child, which was a surprise but left him joyous to hear. For the first time in his life, it was difficult to leave his wife's embrace as he left for his next assignment.

But here he was, standing among the ranks before his new Emperor and recalling the names of those clone units who had shown the most stamina, the most initiative, the greatest success, coupled with the strongest willingness to follow every order. All of the unit names he requested, were all granted to be transferred to his new ship.

He was proud of his assault force.

When the Emperor had finished, Lord Vader stepped forward and spoke."We have obtained secret information regarding several hidden locations of the traitorous Jedi. Our sources have indicated many of them have retreated into the lower levels of Coruscant." The Dark Lord paused, and surveyed his men. "These criminals are to be arrested or eliminated if they resist. As you have heard from our Emperor, we have begun the purge of the Jedi Knights in order to bring peace to the galaxy once again."

Vader breathed through his mask deeply, then concluded. "And the first step is to purge them all from Coruscant and spread ourselves outward to find the rest."

The clone troopers were next to be addressed. "Your unit leaders will provide you with specific assignments. We have secured transports to take you to your specified battleships. That is all. Hail to our Empire."

The thunderous reponse of filtered clone trooper voices came back at him, rocking the hall. "Hail to the Empire!"

Two months after Order 66, in orbit above Coruscant

Captain Dodonna stood in the bridge tower of the Venator-class Star Destroyer Eradicator, looking out at the Imperial fleet breaking up and jumping to different hyperroutes, feeling the energy build inside him. The time was at hand. The beginnings of the Jedi Purge had finally begun to spread to different parts of the galaxy. The Republic might have fallen, but with it went all the hypocrisy that came with it. Now dedicated officers could finally show their worth without lingering in the shadows of their Jedi commanders.

Dodonna never cared for the Jedi, even during the times he served alongside with them in the Republic. The fact would hardly be surprising to anyone who knew him even casually– which was how pretty much everybody knew him, these days– as he was not reticent about his feelings when the subject of the Jedi Knights arose. He never could stomach their holier-than-thou attitude, which was something he despised so much. They were all alike, with their sackcloth fashion sense and their austere asceticism, mouthing empty platitudes about the greater good. He much preferred dealing with pirates and underworld types; they at least were villians without the taint of hypocrisy.

And now, thanks to a truly ironic twist of fate, he was now ordered to hunt them down and eradicate them.

Jared Koortyn, the man who was recruited as his executive officer, saluted him at the edge of the command walkway. "Captain, I have a priority message from Commander Alna of the 41st Elite Corps on the surface."

Dodonna felt a jolt of anger disrupt the eagerness singing through his veins. He drew himself up taller, raising his eyebrows and focusing intently on Koortyn. "Indeed, Commander? Put it on holoscreen."

"Yes, sir," Koortyn consulted his terminal and pulled up the holoprojector. An image of a clone commander came up, whose armor bore distinctive blue markings.

"Sir!" The fuzzy image of Commander Alna, also known as CC-1200, spoke. "One of our sources have claimed several Jedi survivors are hiding in the lower level sector of the Crimson Corridor. I dispatched one of my patrols to investigate a rumor of a sighting at a tavern and have encountered open hostility. Shall I dispatch the rest of my unit to kill or capture?"

Dodonna's mouth almost dropped at the news of encountering his first Jedi, then clamped his lips together in a sinister smile. "Commander Alna, if they resist, then wipe them out. All of them."

"Yes, Sir! Right away!" The holoprojection vanished immediately.

Re: After The Fall

Time seemed to slow, and the world took on a clarity that it hadn't had for months. Lyton felt his senses sharpen - sight, sound, even smell became so highly tuned he could almost smell the sweat on the clone troopers.

It was, of course, the Force. Confronted with danger, knowing his life would depend on split second reactions, Lyton had almost subconciously reached out for that ethereal connection. Heartbeats passed like minutes now, and Lyton knew a certain calmness. As if he was merely an observer in his own body, he knew that he had raised his lightsaber to it's guard position, thumb depressing the activation switch. Light from the green blade reflected from the barrel of the blaster pistol the mysterious man had drawn, a holdout appearing from somewhere too quickly for even Lyton to catch. The clone troopers blasters, already trained in the direction of Lyton's booth, adjusted their aim every so slightly. The Jedi was the priority target. Lyton's mystery friend dropped to one knee behind the overturned table, taking aim. White armored fingers tightened on triggers, patrons dove for cover in extrutiatingly slow motion, and Lyton had time to draw a single breath.

Then the world exploded into a flurry of activity, going from slow motion to fast forward in the blink of an eye. Step to the side, avoid an incoming shot… lightsaber up, deflect another, don't worry about the third… Lyton's mind was working on reflex now, muscle memory and his trust in the Force taking over. As a Jedi Knight he'd fought in the clone wars, commanded the very troopers that were now out to murder him. Never had he thought the day would come when he'd have to kill these men. Never… until the Temple Massacre.

Searing pain shot through Lyton's upper left arm, causing him to gasp and nearly miss blocking another blaster bolt. Fool! he cursed himself. Thinking about the past had distracted him from the present, causing him to take a hit he should have easily avoided. It was only a grazing shot, but it was enough. Gritting his teeth, Lyton focussed on the fight at hand.

One of the three troopers was down, whether from Lyton's mystery companion or from a deflected shot, the ex Jedi couldn't remember. He cursed himself again, whirling his lightsaber like a racket and backhanding a shot right back where it had come from. It hit the clone trooper square in the chest, and he flopped back onto the floor as limply as a doll. The third and last clone trooper, perhaps realizing that standing in the open was a bad idea, dove for cover behind the nearest overturned table.

Lyton raised his hand, saw and felt the table…

The trooper's cover flew across the room, narrowly missing several innocent heads before shattering against the wall. Lyton's companion fired two shots into the suddenly exposed trooper, and the first stage of the fight was over. Lyton closed his eyes, perception roaming beyond the front doors to the street beyond. Clone troopers were taking up positions in the street, but there weren't more than a few of them. Reinforcements hadn't arrived yet… there was hope for escape.

"Hey!" Lyton opened his eyes, glanced at his companion. "You listening to me?" The man asked, tilting his head and raising an eyebrow.

Lyton shook his head, apologized "Sorry. I was distracted. There's more troopers outside, but not many. We might be able to take them out quickly, get out of the area before more arrive."

"That's what I figured," The man muttered. "Look, I've got a ship nearby. A corvette, docked and crewed and ready to fly. You follow get me to that ship, I garuntee I'll get you off this planet. We got a deal?"

Lyton nodded, but not as quickly as he should have. The thought of leaving Coruscant… it felt as if he was running from something. It felt cowardly. And yet, something about this mystery man compelled Lyton to trust him, follow him off of Coruscant. The will of the Force? Lyton wondered, Perhaps it still has a use for me. A feeling tugged at the back of Lyton's mind. His jaw clenched, and his hands tightened around his still activated lightsaber. "They're coming in…"

The first trooper to appear in the doorway was already opening fire, spraying the area with covering fire as he moved forward. It was a standard clone trooper assault tactic - move in and lay down supressive fire, draw enemy attention while your squadmates followed and took up better positions. Then they would return the favor, laying down covering fire so the first trooper or troopers could find cover themselves - provided they'd survived the intial entry.

Lyton whipped his lightsaber around so fast the untrained eye would have seen only a green blur, and blue blaster bolts spattered back at the front of the bar. But none of them hit the trooper, and within seconds another had appeared behind him, blaster spitting deadly energy. Knowing he couldn't hope to deflect every blast, Lyton dropped to the floor behind the overturned table. It wouldn't last long, that table. Already holes were beginning to appear in it.

So much for the will of the Force, Lyton thought sourly. Unless it wants to kill me off in the next few- He forced himself to stop that line of thought as the volume of blaster fire increased suddenly. Oddly enough, the ammount of blaster fire hitting the table seemed to slacken. Lyton's friend solved the riddle, foolishly poking his head above the table and ducking back down just in time to avoid having it blown off. "Looks like we've got some friends in the crowd!" He shouted above the cacaphony of battle.

Lyton was shocked. The patrons had joined the fight? And on his side? It didn't take a second thought - Lyton rose from behind the table, lightsaber in guard position. He knocked an incoming blaster bolt up into the ceiling, quickly scanned the situation. One clone trooper was slumped against the wall beside the door, a score of smoking black holes in his otherwise white armor. Another trooper was kneeling just outside the doorway, using it for cover s he fired into the bar. Another trooper lay dead on the floor, and two more had found cover behind overturned tables. Several patrons had also been hit, but most of them had weapons out and were returning fire.

Lyton seized his chance and called out mentally to one of the tables, urging it to move… it did so, depriving the trooper behind it of lifesaving cover. He went down almost instantly. But Lyton wasn't done with the table just yet. It flew back across the room, slamming into the other trooper and splintering into several pieces. The trooper dropped to the floor, and Lyton felt the conciousness flow out of him. The last clone trooper, still in the doorway, concentrated his fire on the room's biggest threat - Lyton. It didn't help him any. A flurry of multicolored blaster bolts peppered the doorway and the trooper, who slumped back into the street.

Several patrons let out a ragged but brief cheer, and Lyton had to smile. Perhaps there were still some in the galaxy who were unhappy about the current state of affairs. "Great, now let's get out of here," Lyton's companion said said as he stood and brushed himself off. Most of the other patrons were doing the same thing, and a few were moving to check on those who weren't getting up.

"Take the back door," The bartender called across the room, appearing behind the counter as if a firefight hadn't just trashed his establishment. Lyton noticed the man was holding a double barreled blaster - the sort that hadn't been legal even under Republic rule.

"Thank you," Lyton said with a smile and a nod as he started for the exit.

The bartender grunted and shook his head. "Don't thank me," he said harsly, "those goons started shooting up my bar and my clientele… that doesn't fly down here. Jedi or no Jedi. Now get out." Lyton made for the exit as quickly as possible, his new friend leading the way. But just as he left, he heard somebody shout after him, "And good luck!"

He couldn't be sure, but he thought it sounded a lot like the bartender.

Re: After The Fall

They found themselves threading their way through Coruscant's dark underbelly, a maze of abandoned lower level rooms and unpredictable alleyways. To take the relatively safer, more populated streets and walkways was to risk detection, and neither Lyton nor his friend wanted that.

As they made their way towads the promised corvette, Lyton realized that he still hadn't gotten the man's name… if he'd mentioned it, the Jedi didn't remember. So he asked, choosing a moment when there was nobody else in sight. At first the man seemed surprised, but that quickly changed as he laughed softly. "Yeah, I suppose it's only fair. You can call me Lucious… you'll understand if I don't give you my full name." Lyton did understand. These days, just knowing a Jedi could get you arrested. And though he didn't think he'd ever let the Empire capture him alive, should Lyton be caught he could potentially give up the names of people who had helped him.

While he was asking questions, Lyton figured he may as well get some more information. "Earlier, in the bar… you said you knew something about the attack on the Temple. About how many others survived."

"I wish I could say I knew for certain," Lucious said, glancing over his shoulder and letting his gaze linger on a few nearby sentients. Lyton liked that the man was being so careful - even though he was with a Jedi. Many would have just assumed Lyton could sense danger before it arrived, but that wasn't always the case. It never had been with Jedi… they weren't the omnipotent super beings that many had thought they were before the Clone Wars. If they had been, perhaps they would have seen Palpatine for what he was, seen the coming demise of the Order, and done something about it. Maybe some had seen it, and tried to change their fate. If they had, it hadn't made the least bit of difference.

"I do know that some survived," Lucious continued, "but to be honest you're the first surviver we've found." Lytons hopes - what little of them there had been - fell. "I'd hoped that you could help me find others," Lucious added with a hopeful look. But Lyton just shook his head. "Ah… too bad. Well, we've got other avenues to persue yet."

"You keep saying 'we'," Lyton noticed aloud. "Just how many people are searching for surviving Jedi?"

"Enough," Lucious answered cryptically. "Or not enough, depending on how you look at it. We're close to the spaceport now, I think we can get back to using the main walkways." He glanced at Lyton, perhaps to see whether or not the Jedi was sensing any imminent doom.

"Not just yet," Lyton decided, "We need to take a quick detour."

"What detour?" Lucious looked skeptical, but Lyton could tell he was still willing to trust him.

"I need to get a few things. If I'm going to leave Coruscant, I want to take my stuff with me." In reality, Lyton only wanted to get one other item: a satchel full of his former Jedi items. Robes, a cloak, a lightsaber that had once belonged to a fallen friend… just thinking of that lightsaber and the person it had belonged to filled Lyton with a fresh sense of loss, an upswell of emotion that he couldn't quite fight down. It was guilt, mostly, guilt at living while so many others had died. He doubted he'd ever get past those feelings. Noticing Lucious was looking at him oddly, Lyton realized he'd let his emotions temporarily overwhelm him - they must have shown on his face. He jerked his head to the side, dismissing his expression and pointing out the direction of the detour at the same time.

"Sure," Lucious agreed readily enough. "But let's not take too long, I want to get out of here as soon as possible." Lyton paused every so briefly, focussing his senses on Lucious. Since the man had helped him in the firefight, Lytan had thought of him as an ally. Now it occured to him that he should be suspicious… these days, every potential friend could be waiting to stab you in the back. The world had turned upside down, and there was no reason for that to change. But he sensed no deception in Lucious, no ill intent. Just worry and an agitated impatience.

"It won't take long at all," Lyton promised. And it didn't. The run down one room apartment Lyton had been using as a hideout was close to the spaceport, and a few minutes of carefuly observing the building from across the street showed no signs of an Imperial trap. Leaving Lucious behind, Lyton quickly crossed the street and ascended the stairs to the second floor. He stopped in front of his apartment door, listening carefully and probing the area with the force. Nobody waiting inside, no signs of clone troopers ready to spill into the hallway and arrest him.

He opened the door. All seemed well in the room beyond, a bed against one wall and a cooking area against the other. The door to the small bathroom was open, and Lyton saw nobody lurking inside it. He crossed to the bed in two long strides, dropped to one knee as he threw the bedcovers out of his way. Underneath the bed was he satchel, already stocked with everything he'd want to take with him if he'd ever needed to leave quickly. He slung it onto his shoulder, spared a moment to grab some extra credchits and a holdout blaster from a locked drawer. When he left, he left the door open behind him, electronic keycard on the table inside.

Satchel slung over one shoulder, Lyton crossed the street to where Lucious stood waiting. "Let's go," he said. They went.

*****

"There she is," Lucious said with no small ammount of pride. Lyton tilted his head to one side, regarding the shining mechanical marvel that Lucious had introduced as the Touchstone III. It was a newer ship, freshly painted in light blues and dark greens, and looked very well maintained. He had to admit, it was impressive. He said as much. Lucious smiled and said, "Wait until you see the inside."

The two men approached the ship, it's boarding ramp lowering as if at some invisible signal from Lucious. A uniformed crew member descended, meeting the two men at the bottom. "Welcome back, sir," He greeted Lucious with a smile and a nod. His eyes briefly moved to Lyton, and the smile only grew. "I see this trip payed off."

"That it did," Lucious replied, smiling himself. "Though we did run into some difficulties," His smile faded. "Have you gotten any undue attention from the Imperials?"

"No sir, none that we've noticed… why?"

"I'll tell you later," Lucious muttered. "In the meantime, let me introduce you to Mr. Aeros. Lyton, this is the ship's executive officer, Grant Sonell. You two can get to know each other later. Right now, Mr. Sonell, I think it's best if we left port."

The only thing that bothered Lyton as the corvette rose from the surface of Coruscant was that things seemed to be going far too easily. He kept expecting one of the Acclamators in orbit to intercept them, or for a squadron of V-wings to come in guns blazing. But none of that happened, and the Touchstone reached the edge of the system peacefully. Even after they'd jumped to hyperspace, though, Lyton couldn't shake the feeling that something, somewhere, was wrong…

The civilian's sight

One month after Order 66, Coruscant

Tyrell Dunn rubbed his tired eyes with the thumb and index finger of one hand, while his other hand reached for the cup of caf on his desk. He had lost the track of how many hours he was re-designing the new prototype. Emptying his cup Tyrell would like to tell his secretary to bring him more of the hot beverage, but he had sent her home hours ago. It was in the middle of the night already. Tyrell thought that he should have been home in the evening as Lanah and Traven returned from Alderaan, where he had sent them as the battles near Coruscant had been too dangerous. But now the war was over. At least the ones against the separatists. The hunting against the members of the Jedi order continued still. And who knows how many enemies were still waiting in secrecy to strike against the new Empire.

The more it was important to finish this project. The holographic blue prints of the starfighter were rotating above his desk. It had been perfect from its twin ion engines to the hyperdrive, cockpit design and shields. But as Tyrell had presented the computer simulation to the Naval officers and the dark servant of the Emperor, Lord Vader, they had frowned. “Too expensive.” had been their opinion. They told him that they wanted cheap mass production and that he should get rid of the hyperdrive and the shields. As CEO of Dunn Industries Tyrell understood their financial point and if there was a cruiser as carrier it wouldn’t necessary to equip the fighters with hyperdrive engines. But he couldn’t understand that they wanted to send pilots into battle without shields. As he demurred the black helmet of Vader turned to him: “Pilots who can’t survive without shield, have no use for the Empire.” Somehow Tyrell’s throat felt tight, so he had to swallow hard before answering. “Yes, Sir. I’ll do the requested changes.”

And now he had worked since hours because of the short time period they had sanctioned to finish the project. And only four more weeks to go.

Two months after Order 66, in the orbit above Coruscant

Sitting on one of the passenger seats Tyrell waited impatiently, that his transport ship landed in one of the Eradicator’s hangar bays. As soon as the roaring of the engines faded away, Tyrell walked to the cargo hold. The technicians of Dunn Industries were already preparing the disembarkation of their precious prototype, as their boss stepped in. As soon as the designs had been approved by the Imperial Fleet Command, they had built a fully functional preproduction model in co-operation with Sienar Fleet Systems.

Tyrell was relieved that his company had kept the term, given by the government. Especially the unannounced visits of Lord Vader had made his team nervous. Nobody knew where the Emperor’s servant came from. He had arrived in the end of the Clone War and if the Imperial propaganda was right, he had been the one, who had finished it almost single-handedly, bringing the New Order to the Galaxy. That alone was already more than impressive, also Vader’s knowledge about ship design and piloting had made a great impact. But nobody of them wanted to know what happened when they would disappoint him.

Carefully the tech crew guided the starfighter, supported by antigrav-fields, out of the freight hold. His arms crossed, Tyrell watched them, as a familiar voice behind him, called his name. With a smirk he turned around. “Max, it is good to see you again.” The both old friends shook their hands, then Dodonna’s look was distracted by the actions behind Tyrell. “So that’s the fighter?” the Captain asked. Tyrell nodded with a proud grin. “Yes, that’s our T.I.E. Space Superiority  Starfighter..” Maximillian Dodonna surrounded it with slow steps. “It’s…. small.” Tyrell, who followed him, nodded again. “As requested we built a light, small, fast ship. So it has just a length of 6.3 meters with a top speed of 100 MGLT. You can put twice the number of conventional ships into one hangar because of its design.” The Captain seemed impressed. “Good work. I can’t wait to see it in action.” A hint of nervousness was seen in Tyrell’s eyes. “We have prepared a demonstration as soon as your other guests arrive.” Maximillian noticed his friend’s anxiousness, so he patted Tyrell’s shoulder. “I’m sure, your techs will handle the preparation. We can wait in my quarters, chatting about old times, relaxing before your big hour. And how’s your family?” Tyrell had to smile. “Lanah sends her greetings. She is asking if you and Sira would like to come for dinner one of the next evenings, while you are on Coruscant still. And you will not believe how much Traven grew since you saw him the last time…”

Re: After The Fall

2 Months After Order 66

One of the few stars visible after spending its strength against the city lights expanded and streamed towards the planet. Suriah narrowed her eyes and saw the ripple created by the exaust of the ship as it lowered itself towards the spaceport. She felt a slight relief as she sensed no evil intent aboard the ship.

A steady breeze blew in from the plains, pulling a few wisps from the loose mass of dark curls gathered at her pale neck. An odd spicy smell came on the wind- drying grass.

 Her amber eyes searched the night outside of the glowing city. As always she felt slightly dwarfed by the expanse of grass that stretched before the mountains she knew were beyond the dark on the horizon. There were only the lights of a few farm houses twinkling fitfully between the waving blades of purple grass beyond the greenhouses.

So different from home.

Suriah Tihan was alone.

Tears welled in her eyes, and she firmly wiped them away. She told herself it was just the cold wind. Suriah knew better. Her fists clenched, resting on the thick clay of the balcony wall where she stood, still warm from the heat of the day. She took a deep breath and turned away from the darkness towards the tiny alcove that served as her home.

The Jedi's room was lit by one small glow rod, mounted over the potting bench beyond her cot. Twenty to thirty seedlings stretched toward the light, and she opened herself to the Force, listening to their tiny voices, clear notes. Each one was different, each one unique, each one filled with the invisible, binding presence  that filled her life. She walked towards them, and sank her fingers into a leftover pile of loose earth, feeling herself calmed and steadied. As long as she had this connection to life- to everything- to everyone- she could serve it.

Her extreme sensitivity to the world's connection with the force seemed to many like an advantage. She felt intensely every emotion and event around her as though she experienced it personally. She had few other talents in the Force.

They had tried to get her to be a diplomat once.

The young Jedi knew better than anyone that like the rest of the Force, her ability was a double edged blade. Suriah's eyes slid closed, and she tried to let the awful memories in the pit of her stomach subside.

She hadn't seen anything. Hadn't watched anyone die. Hadn't even been threatened.

But she had felt every death individually.
Felt her Master's shock, then acceptance of their betrayal.
His presence had brushed her like a calming hand in the end- but her entire soul had screamed with the pain, shock, and betrayal of every Jedi killed.

Too many had not taken it with the calm acceptance of her Master.

Suriah lay down on her cot and fought more tears. Fought to hear the crystal voices of the plants, the buzz of the city and the people around her, and the quiet hum of the plains and the stars. Slowly, she found her center again.

For nearly a month following the disaster, Suriah had completely lost that place. She fled from the small University her Master had sent her to trade scientific research with, knowing her presence would only endanger them all. They knew all too well what she was, and news came even to this Outer Rim world. Suriah made the long journey across the sparsely populated planet on foot. Her senses led her to people and settlements like a compass. In the end, she found herself in the only city on Terrick, too unsure to leave. Merle was small, but boasted a meager spaceport.  It was completely centered on trade and farming, and the traffic made it a good place to blend in and dissapear. Suriah went native.

She remembered silently showing up in Magee's shop, and green houses, overlooking the outer edges of the city. The tiny shop was a strange one, a combination florist, green house, and herbalist. Her gut and old habit had led her here- to growing things.  The old woman grew everything and knew everything, she could tell that instantly.

Her old face had few lines, years of the moisture in the green houses and daily toil had kept her young. But her clear green eyes were sharp and knowing. She had seen the way Suriah tenderly brushed a leaf, and longingly eyed her new spring seedlings. She found that the wide eyed girl wouldn't speak- and seemed to sense that she was dumb with what had torn her universe apart.

She had offered her a job. Slowly, Suriah had been getting a grip. Every now and then it slipped.

Some days the struggle reminded her of being a child on Achillea, running among the thick forests, each tree a companion, running from the look in the eyes of her village that said she was crazy. Despite mutters, her parents had denied the obvious. She could not be a Jedi. She was only a child with an over active imagination.

Suriah comforted herself with the knowledge that someone had found her and taught her who she was and what that meant. She would cling to that now, and get through one day at a time.

Growing things.

She reached out to the drawer of her night stand and pulled it open. If nothing else kept her going, this responsibility would have to. A packet of holochrons and data cylinders rested under a sheaf of plastifilm, glinting in the dim light of the glowrod. Her Master had told her to share them, and keep them safe.

She had thought him silly to be so cautious. Now she knew that he had known. Known, and sent her away.

So that some teachings might live.

OOC: Edited this to add some more detail and make it DECENT. Been a long time since I've written. Worth a reread- sorry!

Re: After The Fall

Lyton was called to the bridge just before the Touchstone hit atmosphere. What planet that atmosphere belonged to was a mystery, at least for now. The former Jedi had spent the entire trip from Coruscant sequestered in his quarters. It had been a voluntary action, and he had used the time to meditate. Meditation was something Lyton hadn't done very much of since the fall of the Order, and he was beginning to think he could use the focus. Too often these days he felt himself losing control of his emotions. For a Jedi, that could easily herald a fall to the Dark Side… and after what the Dark Side had done to the galaxy, Lyton wanted no part of it.

"Ah, glad of you to join us," Lucious smiled far too cheerfully as Lyton entered the cramped, utilitarian control room that served as the corvette's bridge. "We're just coming out of orbit, entering atmosphere." Lyton nodded mutely, and found his eyes wandering towards the forward viewports. Beyond them lay a world that was a far cry from Coruscant. Coming in on the dark side of the planet's day/night terminator, it was easy to see there were few large population centers. A handfull of small settlements glowed brightly across the main continent, but for the most part there didn't seem to be too much in the way of settlements.

"So, this is our destination?"

"That it is," Lucious replied. "Terrick, it's called. It's sparsely populated, has little to no Imperial presense, and we've got contacts on the ground. It's a good place to hole up for a little while while we report our success in picking you up."

"Nice place," Lyton decided. He settled himself against the nearest wall as the ship was buffetted by the planet's atmosphere, fire wreathing the vessel's viewports. After just a few seconds it was over, and the ship was headed towards the largest population center. "You know," Lyton told Lucious, "You should probably tell me a little bit more about who it is you're working for. I definately appreciate you getting me off of Coruscant, and that you're looking for more Jedi survivors, but I can't just keep following you blindly."

"Don't worry, you won't have to." Lucious manipulated a few of the controls before him, then turned around in his chair and faced Lyton directly. "Once we're dirtside I'll fill you in… everything you want to know, I'll tell you. And then, hopefully, you'll sign on to our little mission."

"We'll see," was all Lyton said. Despite his words, he felt he owed something to Lucious and his crew… they'd gone through the effort of seeking out Jedi survivors. All other considerations aside, that in and of itself was something to be repaid.

The Touchstone landed at what was probably the only large scale spaceport on the entire planet. Located in the center of the the continent's largest population center, it looked almost as if the city had grown up around the landing pads. And it seemed as if it wasn't finished growing - despite the city's size, there was a fairly constant bustle of intergalactic travel in and out of the spaceport. A lot of it seemed to be mercantile, though what this planet had to offer as an export Lyton could only guess.

The passengers disembarked, cool night air wafting through the hot and artificial smelling exhaust from the corvette's engines. Through the crew of the Touchstone and Lucious himself seemed to take no special care in dressing to fit in, Lyton had elected to wrap himself in a hooded cloak. His lightsaber lay underneath that cloak, hanging loosely against his left thigh. The other lightsaber, the one he'd carried since the fall of the order, was tightly secured to the small of his back. Though he'd never trained in the use of mutliple lightsabers, Lyton wanted to be ready for any trouble they might encounter. Ever since entering orbit of the planet… ever since leaving Coruscant…

Lyton shrugged his shoulders, using the motion to gather his cloak tighter around his shoulders as well as to dispel his own nagging feelings. "So where are we headed?"

"Well, the crew is going to get some leave time, but you and I are going to go visit one of my contacts." Lucious led the way out into the semi-bustling crowds of the spaceport, finding his way through them as easily as if he'd been on Coruscant for years. Lyton followed suit, and  it was just a few minute walk until the two men had reached a very seedy looking establishment that claimed to be a cantina. The sign above the door may once have given the name of the place, but it was far too old and worn for Lyton to read it with any certainty… though the letters he could make out might almost have spelt some sort of obscenity.

Despite the look of the place, or perhaps because of it, there was a large number of patrons packed into the small cantina. "Popular place," Lyton muttered, remembering the sort of dives he'd been a regular at for the last few months.

"You have no idea," Lucious said, making his way staright towards the bar. "Hendricks!" He called out above the general noise of the patrons. "Hey, Hendricks!"

The bartender, a very fat man with a shaven head and a many stained apron, looked up from the glass he was filling full of something green. He squinted through the patrons, finally locking his gaze onto Lucious and Lyton as they pushed their way right up to the bar proper. The large man's face slowly broke into a smile that just wouldn't stop, and before Lyton knew it there was a mug full of something alcoholic sitting in front of him. He paused to wonder just where it had come from, and decided that the bartender must be very very good at his job.

"Lucious, you son of a bantha!" The fat man - Hendricks, apparently - addressed Lucious. "I didn't know you were going to be back in town. You've got good timing, though, I'll tell ye that." He spent a second looking over Lyton. "And I see you found what you've been looking for. Good."

"That I have," Lucious responded, "Which is why I'm here earlier than expected. Hendricks, this is Lyton. Lyton, this is Formaj Hendricks." Hendricks offered a hand as big as a ham, and Lyton clasped it in greeting.

"Good to meet a survivor," Hendricks said boldly. Lyton looked around at the patrons on either side of him, but Hendricks waved a hand in a gesture of dismissal. "Don't you worry about anything in here, Lyton. People in here, they know to mind their own business. And even if they didn't, you won't find too many that are happy with the situation as it stands."

"Even so," Lucious broke in, "It may be a good idea to keep things low key. Anyway, you said something about good timing?"

"Aye," Hendricks nodded. "I've got a lead for ya… and guess what? It's right here," He pounded one thick forefinger down onto the bar, "Right here on Terrick."

Surprises and Presentations

The console was lined with displays, panels, and readouts, indicating to the ship's crew the Touchstone had landed safely with no problems. Erikaa, the Corvette's communications officer, supervised her portion of the bridge as she noted the crew had begun to storm down the empty corridors as shoreleave was announced.

She bit down on her lower lip in nervousness. The other comm officer, Domiq, had scurried away on another errand, but she barely noticed her associate's departure as Lucious gave orders to handle affairs with the dockmaster so he could escort his passenger. His harsh, indifferent tone still rang in her ears.

Her window of opportunity had now opened.

As a relative newcomer to the crew of the Touchstone, less than a month old, Erikaa was stuck at the bottom of the crew's ranks, and the only way to climb this ladder was by attaching yourself to the ones in higher rank and kissing their toes. But to her, it was better to remain at the bottom, as it left her out of the limelight when it came to her real mission: to report and deliver any information pertaining to the whereabouts of the remnants of the Jedi Order: the traitors to the Republic– now dubbed the Galactic Empire.

Erikaa was a spy for the newly formed Imperial Security Bureau and a member of COMPNOR– of course no one knew this, especially her new employers. Promises to fast promotions within the new Empire convinced her to take this assignment, as rumours abounded across the holonet that the Jedi criminals were quickly taking fast passage from Coruscant in order to escape the purge, led by Lord Vader. A moment of glee gave way to alarm when she found out the passenger Lucious had taken in was a Jedi in hiding. The captain was negligent enough to inform her when she inquired.

Summoning up her nerve, her fingers began to dance across her keypad, opening up an encypted transmission to send to her Imperial contact back on Coruscant, who resided aboard the Venator-class Star Destroyer above it…


"I can only imagine…" Dodonna blinked his eyes at the thought of Tyrell's child. "I am sure he is quite a handful for Lanah at the moment. I suppose Sira will experience the same when she delivers our first child."

Tyrell raised his eyebrows in surprise as they began to pace across the hangar bay with Tyrell's prototypes nestled in the background. "Ah, Sira is with child? Congrats, Max. I cannot express how happy I am." He crossed his arms over his chest as he watched a Command Gunship land on the hangar bay with clone troopers immediately disembarking. "I look forward to having our kids play together when the time comes."

Dodonna nodded in agreement as he watched Commander Alna, known as CC-1200, approach him with a entourage of battle-hardened ARC-troopers. "Indeed, Tyrell. But for now, we must conduct our business with your prototype designs. I hope they surpass the Empire's standards."

Commander Alna saluted his superior. "Captain Dodonna, I have a report from the lower levels."

Dodonna stared at him with his blue eyes, not blinking. "What is it, Commander?"

"The Jedi have evaded us," the clone commander reported. "It is possible they may have departed off planet on a transport, but our careful search of the nearest spaceport has not revealed anything yet. We are checking departure logs that correspond within the hours that we lost them."

The captain's eyes narrowed as he directed his gaze at the clone while Tyrell looked on. "This is most unnerving, Commander. I cannot report to Lord Vader with this kind of news. Double your efforts and continue your search." He turned to his friend. "For now, Commander Alna will escort us to Coruscant to the Dunn estate, where we await dinner guests."

"Yes, sir! Right away!" The clone gestured to his unit to board the gunship as Captain Dodonna directed Tyrell to a nearby Imperial Theta-class shuttle to board…

An hour later…

The shuttle arrived with their entourage on the west landing platform, not far from the Dunn estate. Their escort gunships hovered above them, bristling with weapons, as they monitored their surroundings.

On the landing platform, Sirannon Dodonna and Tyrell's wife, Lanah, with Traven in her arms, waited to greet their husbands along with a full contingent of Imperial officers. Sira wore her formal robes as well as an Imperial insignia pinned to her lapel to show her support for the New Order.

The shuttle's hatch hissed open as the denser air of the Star Destroyer above rushed out. Two clone shocktroopers marched down the ramp, shouldering ceremonial blaster rifles. Their white and red armor gleamed from meticulous polishing. They moved like droids, walking off the ramp and stepping to either side, then freezing in position as a pair of uniformed officers strode down the rampway.

After two more clone troopers followed them down, Dodonna drew a deep breath, looking into the distance and seeing his wife to his utter surprise. Sira stepped forward to approach and embraced him tightly, then gave a quick kiss to his lips. Tyrell approached his wife and said his greetings alongside them.

"You grew a beard while you were away?" Sira joked, drawing a finger around his jawline. "I thought I would surprise you, but you surprised me, instead."

A hint of a smile appeared. "Indeed, I have Sira. I am most pleased you came to see me off again. How is our child?"

"I'm beginning to feel him kicking, Max," she cooed.

"He?" he rose an eyebrow.

"Yes. A bioscan revealed we're having a son." A smile enchanted her face again. "Surprised?"

A smile finally appeared on his face. Tyrell approached with Traven in his arms and intervened. "Congrats again, Max. I guess Traven will know a familiar face when he attends the Academy with your son."

Traven cooed and Tyrell hinted. "Would you like to hold him?"

Dodonna stiffened at the thought. "Perhaps another time, Tyrell." He quickly changed the subject. "I believe we are being summoned now."

An officer approached Dodonna's side. "Sir. If I may interrupt, our guest is most impatient and wishes to commerce dinner as soon as possible."

"Yes, yes," Dodonna replied impatiently. "We will be there shortly. I am sure our guest will not mind if we greeted our wives, first." He was sure whoever it was had a great many other duties as well, but surely could understand a few minutes.

"Better go to your meeting, Max," Sira suggested. "Don't want to keep him waiting. We can talk more after it is over."

Dodonna hesitated. "Very well, my love. I will see you soon after." Tyrell clapped a hand on his shoulder, indicating that it was time to enter the estate to conduct their dinner plans. Both figures then left the platform and made their way inside.

That afternoon, Captain Dodonna and several Imperial officers sat around the large conference table while Tyrell Dunn consulted with his aides at the front of it, standing at the base of the holoprojector's controls. Though the Imperial captain had a thousand other duties to attend to after this meeting, he was happy that at least Sira had surprised him, especially with the news.

He pondered as to who this guest was that was so important. Certainly it couldn't be the Emperor himself. He also wondered if any of these military higher-ups were going to stay afterward to attend dinner when the presentation was finished.

Without announcement, Darth Vader seemed to fill the room with his quiet, commanding presence as he entered the dining chambers. Dodonna never ceased admiring his subtle but undeniable power, which Vader managed to exhibit everytime. The captain drew in a breath as the black mask of the Dark Lord scanned his surroundings, the sound of hissed breathing filling the room.

"Tyrell Dunn," he said without formally greeting him. "You may begin your presentation and show us a demonstration of your prototype."

The holoprojector shimmered, and the TIE Space Superiority Starfighter's design filled the room, with its details swirling throughout the enclosed chamber. At the doorway the clone troopers craned their necks to stare up at the image…

Re: After The Fall

Suriah opened her eyes to a clear day on Terrick, the sun just barely peeking up from behind the dark red mountains that meandered across the continent, brushing the closer plains of violet grass with orange.  The faintly spicy smell of the planet blew gently in from her balcony. It shifted the rough spun drapes, throwing loose woven shadows across her face. Her amber eyes glowed in the orange morning light, and she squinted against the buzz in her skull.

Before it got to be too much, Suriah opened herself to the Force. It hurt her at first, the influx of emotions, people, mental chatter. She made herself feel it a moment, and then took a deep centering breath. This is how it has always been. She envisioned a small control board in her mind, full of tiny knobs. One by one, she slowly dialed down the knobs. The confusion died down, and her view of the world around her became clearer. She kept turning knobs, forcing her body to relax, muscle by muscle as she gradually took control of her world. She had come up with the mental routine shortly after first leaving her home planet Achillea- her first space port had nearly killed her. One of the Jedi who had come to the planet on a student search had helped her, pulled her out of her fear, and showed her how to control the talent.

She smiled slightly, her eyes closed, as she remembered landing at the Academy, and the sweetness of a chorus of presences strong in the Force. They hadn't looked at her like she was crazy, there.

She felt the smile fade from her lips, but firmly fixed the control board in her mind and finished her task. She didn't turn down all the knobs. She could still feel Maggi moving about her room, and a dim buzz from the streets outside the shop. Enough to inform, not to distract, had been her Master's mantra for her.

Suriah felt the grief close in on her again, and Suriah let it come before gently releasing it. That chorus of the Force had been silenced.

The young Jedi  had worried at first- in her darkest hours- that grief was of the Dark side. She remembered, in the end, that even Jedi were only beings- and that grief was a natural process. Grief was not of the Dark side… but what you let it motivate you to do could be. Remembering this, she murmured as she always did, "For you, Master, I will live. And I will teach again."

Somehow, that made it easier.

Suriah sat up. She grabbed handfuls of her unruly black hair, and stared at herself for an minute in the mirror propped on the wall at the foot of her bed. Her eyes seemed larger somehow. Larger and older, and quiet, like the pools beneath the giant trees in the forests of Achillea. At 23, she had no wrinkles, but she could sense a heaviness, almost weariness lurking just beneath the pale glass of her skin. She was healing, but the past two months had been hard on her spirit. She steeled herself quietly for the day and roughly combed her fingers through her tangled curls. The Jedi rolled out of bed to pull on her borrowed clothing- a ragged and loose white shirt, and dark green pants. The shirt was too big, and the pants were nearly too small- Maggi had found them for her somewhere.  She slid open the drawer by her bedside, reached into the back, and pulled out the thin hilt of her lightsaber.

She traced its lines in the morning light. The metals were bronze alloys, and they glowed with a dim orange fire against the delicate almost white wood inlay she had used for the casing. Suriah had delicate hands, and a good eye, and she had used all her craft to fashion her weapon. Intricate, almost tribal patterns after the fashion of her people climbed up its thin length, invoking bark, vines, and leaves. They curled around the smooth, organic controls. She clenched it and pictured the pale green blade that would spring to life at her command, but she knew that here, she could not.

Though you need the practice. Her lips curled slightly. She knew that's what her Master would have to say. She frowned. Her lightsaber skills were less than masterful. She was acceptable, physically fit, fast enough- but fighting had never been her strong suit. Her telekinetic powers fell far short, and against other opponents in the Force, her only hope was to anticipate their actions. She needed someone to duel with, and she would not have that here.

Maybe never again.
And the next duel I'm in will be more than practice.

Suriah's mouth set in a thin line at the thought. She took the sleeve she had torn off a shirt that had been hopelessly big, and wound the cloth around her thin waist, securing the saber in the small of her back. It wasn't much, but she couldn't carry it openly here- and at least she would have it. She made sure to pull flimsiplast over the drawer contents again, and slid it shut.

"Girl, that you movin' around in there?" Maggi's voice filtered past the curtain that formed her doorway.

"Yeah, Maggi- I'll be down in a minute," she called.

"Tea??" The old woman shouted back over her shoulder as she thumped briskly down the stairs.

"Please!"

Suriah pulled on her boots and grabbed some tools from her gardening bench. She stuck them in the belt that Maggi had loaned her for the purpose. She leaned briefly over the pale yellowish leaves of the seedlings she was tending, and smiled. She hummed lightly, and brushed them each in turn. She then carefully slid a hand under the flat and made her way down the narrow and dim stairs, tray balanced over her head.

The old woman was already sitting at the table, hunched a bit over her cup of tea. Maggi smirked as Suriah entered the room and smoothly set the flat down on a counter. "You sure you didn't want a job down at the local pub, girl? You carry trays pretty handily."

Suriah's lips curved slightly. "I like plants better than people," she murmured softly.

Maggi barked a laugh. "Shame, people tip sometimes." She sniffed and took another sip of her tea. "I'm with you though." She pushed another cup of sweetgrass tea across the table at her.

It smelled of the grasses outside Suriah's window, slightly spicy, and warm. She sipped it gladly and nodded her thanks as she leaned against the counter, long legs crossed. The kitchen was flooded with light, making everything look brighter and newer than it was. The place was careworn to say the least- closer to run down- but Suriah didn't mind.

Maggi watched the girl look around, and gaze out the windows towards the city proper. She shook her head slightly. There was no denying that the girl was talented with plants- including the rarer off world stuff. But Maggi knew that in spite of all that, the girl had no place in her kitchen. Or her greenhouses. She knew better than to trust in luck and coincidences.

Conversations around town were coming back to her. Whispers of things that made her feel older than she was. The old gardener cleared her throat.
"Girl," she said it as gently as she could. "You know you can't stay here."

Suriah's head turned sharply towards her, and Maggi got the shivers as the girl's clear light brown eyes fixed on her face. That was another thing- she always knew things. She frowned. "I can work harder. It's no trouble for me, Maggi, you know I love it."

Maggi sighed internally. The girl knew what she meant, but chose to dance around the real issue. Really, where else would she go? "No, that's fine," she finally murmured, pushing herself up from the table with both hands. She was going to have to pay better attention- to everything.


Suriah watched the old woman leave the kitchen, and did her best to muffle the guilt roiling in her stomach.

Re: After The Fall

Lyton could feel Lucious sharpen his attention on the bartender, and he knew immediately that the two were speaking of another Jedi survivor. "Are you sure?" Lucious asked, seeming as casual as ever. Hendricks nodded, producing a rag and wiping the top of the bar with slow, circular motions. "New arrival?"

"Nah," Hendricks smiled a gap toothed grin. "Just been careful is all, or so I hear."

"He must have been," Lucious muttered. "Otherwise we would've found him the first couple of times we sniffed this place for leads."

"She," Hendricks corrected deftly, peering at a spot that refused to be wiped up. He scratched at it with one fingernail, raised an eyebrow when it still wouldn't come up. "'s what I hear, anyway," He finally continued.

Lyton frowned, suspicion asserting itself over the tendrils of hope that had started to grow within him. "And who are you hearing all this from?" Hendricks briefly looked up from the persistant spot, favoring Lyton with another rickety smile.

"People," Was all he said.

"I'm serious," Lyton growled. "Has it occured to you that this might be a trap? The timing is too good. Every other time you search this rock for leads you came up empty, right? Now, suddenly, you come back with a survivor and there's another one that just happens to pop up."

Lucious tilted his head to one side, then raised both eyebrows and looked to Hendricks. "The man's got a point, though I think it may just be his survival instincts are still in full swing."

"I didn't live this long by ignoring them," Lyton lied. In truth, some days he'd wanted nothing more than for the Empire to find him… at least then he could have gone down in a blaze of glory. Usually that sort of thought came to him after he'd had too much to drink, but Lucious and the gorilla behind the bar didn't need to know that.

"This is no trap," Hendricks assured them both, smile gone. He'd produced a bottle of cleaner from somewhere, and was spraying a liberal ammount of it onto the mysterious spot. Lyton swore he saw years of grime and patina dissolve in a bubbling holocost that claimed millions of germs and bacteria. For a moment, he thought he could hear as many tiny voices cry out in terror, before being suddenly silenced. It was a distinctly disturbing experience. "I know the gal who gave me the lead, she wouldn't put us onto something unless she was sure. She own's a plant shop at the edge of nowhere. Magi, her name is. Sweet old thing."

"There's only one way to find out," Lucious told Lyton as the bartender wiped up the foamy cleaning solution. "And we should do it quickly, before she figures out she's been made and runs for it."

"We?" Lyton raised an eyebrow, both to underscore his question and because Hendricks had cursed under his breath. A quick glance at the bar revealed the stain was still present, though a broad patch of ceramic around it looked painfully clean and new.

"Yes," Lucious also glanced at the stubborn spot, "We. Don't worry, I'll handle things like I did with you."

"How reassuring," The Jedi said dryly, remembering the squad of clone troopers that had burst into the bar back on Coruscant.

"You'll be there for insurance," Lucious plowed through the comment, "If there's a trap or something is amiss, you'll be able to give me a head's up. And if trouble does hit, you'll be an invaluable asset. And don't worry," he added, "I went to a lot of trouble to find you. I'm not going to let you get killed too easily."

"Wonderful," Lyton put just enough sarcasm in it to balance out his smile. Despite that, however, he found that he was excited at the prospect of finding another Jedi survivor. If he could find enough of them, a dozen or so, maybe they could rebuild the Order… somewhere out of reach, where Vader and the Emperor wouldn't find them. Or maybe… maybe they could even strike back… but that was all so very far away.

"What the bloody hell is this stuff?" Hendricks rumbled, causing nearby patrons to look at him curiously. Lucious just smiled and shook his head.

"Good luck with that," He told the larger man. "And thanks for the lead. Me and Lyton will pick it up tomorrow."

"If I hear anything else, I'll let you know." The bartender said distractedly, having crouched to eye level with the top of the bar to peer at the stain. "Bloody rediculous," He muttered to himself as Lyton and Lucious made their exit. Lyton had to laugh… looking back over his shoulder as he left, he saw that nearby patrons were leaning over the bar, studying the spot with quizzical expressions.

Maybe one of them would find a way to get rid of it.

************

The Touchstone was scheduled to be in port for another few days, taking on supplies while Lucious followed up on any new information form his sources. Nobody asked where he was going when, in the early morning hours, he and Lyton left the corvette and headed out into the city.

"We could just walk, you know," Lyton commented as he and Luciuos looked over the speeders for rent at the local dealer. "It might be safer." Lyton was once again wearing his traveling cloak, lightsabers on his hip and at the small of his back. Underneath, he wore his standard garb: boots, kakis, tank top. His swoop gang style gloves squeaked slightly as he closed his hands into fists and planted them on his hips. Lucious had opted for a much slicker looking outfit, one that might have passed for some sort of business suit if it hadn't been so comfortable looking. And the sunglasses definately added to the coolness factor.

"Normally, I might agree with you," Lucious agreed readily. "But if this does go south, I want to be able to make a fast getaway."

"We could run faster, I'm sure."

"You might," Lucious chuckled as he handed credits to an overeager looking weequay, "Me? I'm out of shape."

The ride through the spaceport's streets wasn't as bad as it could have been, Lyton had to admit. The planet itself was nice enough, and the locale certainly beat any number of spaceports from Coruscant and Tatooine. It was still mid morning by the time the pair reached their destination - the plant shop Hendricks had given them the address to before they'd rented their speeder. They parked in front of the store, Lucious lowering his sunglasses to regard the building. "Inconspicuous," He remarked, "Slightly run down… but I bet it's a good place to make a living."

"Yeah," Lyton remarked, "If you're into plants." He wasn't, himself… though he couldn't deny their essential essence and importance to the living force. He just had other interests.

The two men stood on the sidewalk in front of the store, and Lyton closed his eyes. "Anything?" Lucious asked, glancing up and down the street. There were pedestrians here and there, but it was early enough that most traffic was still closer to the spaceport proper. Lyton allowed his senses to roam around, let the force feed him a picture of the surrounding area. First the street, then the shop, then the greenhouse behind it… he opened his eyes, looked at Lucious. "There's a Jedi in there."

"Good. What about non-Jedi? Guys with guns, maybe?" Lyton shook his head. He hadn't sensed any ill intent in the nearby area. Certainly not from the old lady inside the shop. "Good," Lucious said again. "Shall we?"

Lyton nodded and headed for the front door. A small bell rang as he entered, alerting the old woman within. She came forth from a back room, pleasantly neutral expression on her face. "Can I help you gentlemen?" Despite her visible neutrality, Lyton could tell she didn't think they were here to buy plants.

"I certainly hope so," Lucious said with a smile, removing his sunglasses and depositing them in his breast pocket with one smoothe motion. Lyton resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The old woman's mouth quirked at the corners, the only clue that she found Lucious amusing as well. "Hendricks is a friend of mine. He tells me you have a lead for me."

Lyton ignored the woman's reply, ignored the rest of the conversation. Instead, he focused his attention on the force, and on the force user in the greenhouse. Silently, carefully, he let his senses probe at her conciousness. Suddenly she was aware of him, and her surprise was so potent it nearly made Lyton himself gasp at the unexpectedness of it.  She hadn't been paying attention to anything but her plants, but now… Now she was on her way to the shop, and Lyton found himself all but holding his breath.

Career move

Tyrell’s assistant Cole Neithan handed datapads with the technical specifications to the handful of attending Imperial Navy officers as well as to Lord Darth Vader. While the military personnel started to read through the data, the Imperial Grandee just threw a glance on it, then turned his armoured face to Tyrell and his aides. The CEO took it as sign to begin. Fighting down his nervousness, Tyrell cleared his throat. “My Lord, Gentlemen… Dunn Industries proudly presents: The TIE Space Superiority Starfighter.” Well timed to his words the holographic blueprint that had been rotating  in the middle of the circular conference table changed into a simulation of a TIE squadron flying different manoeuvres. For a moment as he could be sure that the pictures came across as planned, Tyrell continued. “As you can see in your records my engineers and I have changed some of the parameters to be fitting to Lord Vader’s suggestions. The TIE is now faster and with a bigger firepower than the preceding model. I hope that we meet your expectations now, My Lord.” Neithan and the other aides stared hopefully at their boss as he addressed the Sith directly. Vader, a master of manipulation, waited, still watching the now repeating holo-simulation. Tyrell had the feeling as if the Dark Lord enjoyed, even bathed in their uneasiness and suppressed fear.

Finally the full bass of his voice filled the room as Darth Vader answered. “I am  pleased with the progress, Mr. Dunn.” Tyrell heard his engineers sigh in relief and allowed himself a small, polite smile. “Thank you, my Lord. We have built a prototype already that is on board of the Eradicator for space tests.” Vader rose from his chair, his eyes still on the holographic film. “Build a whole squadron like in your simulation. Then test it.” Tyrell frowned. “But Sir, we have to test the prototype first. We just ran simulations so far. And the costs will be… “ Threatening Vader growled. “Costs do not concern me. Do what ordered. I want this squadron in one week on the Eradicator. As well as yourself. Then you can do tests personally. Better don’t fail me, Mr. Dunn.” Tyrell swallowed hard. “I understand, my Lord. One week. We will be ready till then.” Without any further words or good-bye phrases the Dark Lord of the Sith turned around towards the exit. As the door closed behind him a collective breathe of the remaining men was heard.

~~~

It was in the early evening as Tyrell Dunn and his wife Lanah sat in one of their estate’s drawing rooms with their friends Maximillian and Sirannon Dodonna. “This Vader wants the impossible.” Tyrell sighed. Max sipped from his Corellian Brandy. “He’s known for that. But he’s also known as excellent leader, who can push his men to best performances.” Sira, who sat close to her husband on the comfortable couch, nodded. “And let’s not forget, that it had been Lord Vader, who ended this terrible Clone War almost single handed.” Lanah looked a little sceptically as she spoke. “And it’s said that it was him also who stopped the attempted coup of the Jedi Order. Even when I can’t understand that all of them had to be killed. I had worked with some of them as we organised the charity events. They seemed always friendly and gentle. Never aggressive. And then even the children were killed by our troops. That casts the whole situation into doubt for me. What danger can come from a child?” The other three stared at her. “Lanah, you should better stop dangerous talk like that.” Max frowned. “We have seen that they tried to assassinate the Emperor. And these children were dangerous. Brainwashed by the Jedi Order almost since birth and with their unnatural skills. There had been no possibility to integrate them into the Empire.” Sira reached out to touch Lanah’s arm, as she added: “And these Jedi wasn’t friendly. They were even stealing babies from their families, using their mindtricks. Think about how it would be if somebody took Traven from you.” Tyrell didn’t liked the turn their talk was going. “Gladly our son is totally normal, so we don’t have to fear that some cultist will try to take him from us.”

As if his words had been a cue the door opened and Nora Hantale, the governess, entered with Traven on her arms, so that his parents could say good-night to him before their dinner party. Lanah smiled at her son as she took him from Nora. The little boy didn’t seemed tired at all. Sira nudged her husband. “Max, you should hold him. He’s such a cutie.” Tyrell grinned at his friend. “Yes, start your baby boot camp training here.” Dodonna gave him a Not you too-look, then sighed playfully. “Well, I hope, he’ll not drool on my uniform.” He joked as Lanah reached the child to him. The other adults chuckled as they saw how awkward the captain was holding the boy, who looked at the for him strange man almost serious. Then Traven reached out and grabbed, with the typical stubborn strength of his age, the rank-badge that was decorating Dodonna’s chest. On Max’ first surprised face appeared a grin. “Looks like this little man wants to get my rank.”

Their good-humoured laughter was interrupted by the Dunn’s butler, Donal. “Sir, Madam, the guests are arriving.”

Re: After The Fall

It was hot in the greenhouse, and steam from the misters roiled through the shafts of sunlight coming through the old fashioned glass. Suriah rolled her shoulders in the comforting warmth, moving to lift some more heavy flats of pots that were a few months old. The smell of green and 20 different kinds of earth from different planets pervaded her senses, and the low hum of each leaf made her smile. She made it a point not to draw on the force, the slight ache of used muscles felt good. She loved it here. Relaxed. Almost forgot about everything that had happened- and was happening- in the world outside.

The jedi knew that was dangerous, but she couldn't help feeling she needed it sometimes. Besides, she was safe here, for the most part. Maggi seemed to suspect, but she also knew the woman had no motives against her, and would do all she could. She sensed that. She just hoped she wasn't taking too much advantage of the old woman.

Suriah sighed, and closed her eyes briefly against the bright light. Her breathing stopped as something in the Force tugged at her. She opened her eyes and opened her senses simultaneously.

No, it was gone. Someone unusually strong in the Force?

The girl's amber eyes suddenly opened wider as the presence came back, this time actively probing for her.  She stifled a gasp as a flooding of joy, confusion- and yes- fear- washed through her. Someone had found her here! Her heart rode in her throat as she took off sprinting for the store. She tried to get her emotions under control, but two months of turmoil washed through her and she couldn't put breaks on it. She did, however, manage to slow her feet, and forced herself to control her voice long enough to call out- "Maggi? Is someone here?"

She could hear the tenseness in her own voice, and she barely composed herself as she entered the small front of the shop, making one foot move slowly after the other.

"There are always people here, child," Maggi said as she burst into the room. She noted the slightly worried look on Maggi's face, the strangely dressed man- Suriah finally paused as her eyes met the stranger's- the one who had probed her. Beyond a doubt, another Jedi. She sent him a mental inquiry- Does he know what you are? The Jedi, a perplexed look on his face, nodded shortly, his eyes still fixed to her face.

Throwing that final caution to the wind, Suriah stepped around the counter towards him. He was slightly older, but she could see much of herself in his eyes. Without really pausing to think about it, Suriah hugged him.

She could feel the sudden surprise of all three, complicated by the emotions roiling off her and bouncing through them. She forced herself to back away from the man and get a grip on her emotions. She could feel the flush rising to her cheeks.

Maggi had a bemused smile on her face. "You two know each other?"

Suriah finally shook her head, unable to find words. She glanced up at the other Jedi, a mute apology in her eyes. "I couldn't help it," she whispered.

"Maggi," the girl said, turning, "You might want to brew some tea."

Re: After The Fall

Erikaa Malar.

Commander Koortyn scowled at his viewscreen as he ran the decryption code on the woman’s message.  He even hated the name.  He still couldn’t believe Dodonna had entrusted a female with such a mission; he felt certain she had already fallen in love with the Touchstone’s captain and was planning to betray the Empire even now.  All women were traitors, not to be trusted.  He had learned that the hard way.

As his dark eyes scanned over the text of the decoded message, Jared looked for possible clues to the spy’s imminent betrayal, but could find none.  Her information seemed to match the other intelligence he’d received earlier, concerning the escaped Jedi and the man called Lucious.

Briefly, Jared considered destroying the message anyway, but as the possible scenarios resulting from his actions played in his head, he knew that he could not plausibly get away with it.

“Lieutenant,” he said to the nearest officer, “has Captain Dodonna made planetfall yet?”

At the man’s affirmative reply, Koortyn nodded once, saving the message and printing a copy on flimsiplast.  The spy’s information could wait until Dodonna returned from his dinner planetside.

“Status of the TIE prototypes,” he barked next.

The officer, young looking for his age, stiffened slightly, but otherwise kept his composure.  “The prototypes have arrived in our main docking hangar, and are being inspected in preparation for their trials.”

“Very well,” Koortyn responded curtly.  “Inform me the instant the Captain returns.  I have importation information for him.”

The office affected a quick bow and returned to his duties.


Koortyn stood at rigid attention as Captain Dodonna read through the text on the flimsiplast.  “Sir, the spy claims that the Jedi boarded her ship and that they are en route to Terrick, along with the one we were tracking.  Taking into account the time it took for the message to reach us, I estimate that they have already arrived at their destination.”

Dodonna’s eyes flicked up at Koortyn, then back down to the ’plast.  “Recommendation?”

“Sir, there must be a reason for them to have fled to this particular planet; it could be one which sympathizes with the Jedi traitors, and there could be others in hiding there.  If our spy is telling the truth, our mission is clear: acquire the Jedi, and any others he has allied with, and destroy them all.”

Dodonna nodded.  “I concur.  Have the crew make the computations for travel to Terrick.”

Re: After The Fall

The galaxy had changed again.

First it was the separatists.  Their cry for "independance" and the conflict that followed seemed to sweep across the Republic like waves over a pebble, reshaping the sand but leaving the stone untouched, or so it seemed.  The Republic still stood, but it looked unsteady, it's position shifted by the smallest of degrees.  Opinion was divided, but otherwise the ebb and flow of the huge government seemed as unchanged as it had been for generations.

Then had come the clones, and the War, and the fires of battle changed the Republic more profoundly as power shifted from the elected many to the acclaimed few.  The sand was shifted, the pebble moved and turned and was eroded by the changing sea.  Again, opinion was divided on the necessity of the change, but the change was accepted as it would not outlast the War.  Things would return to the way they has always been afterwards.  That was the promise.  The belief.  The hope.

But it was the attempted Jedi Rebellion that provoked the greatest change.  In any other age it would have seemed so unlikely that such a thing could ever happen that the reports would never have been accepted so willingly.  But after the years of corruption and war the Senate and Republic alike had suffered, it seemed almost inevitable.  That, after everything else, the Jedi turning against the Senate and it's highly popular Chancellor was to be expected.

Again, opinions were divided.  But this time, some were considered too dangerous to be spoken aloud.  Doing so could have you investigated, or arrested as a separatist or Jedi sympathiser.  In some places, on some worlds, especially those most distant from the Core Worlds, there were even riots, though these were always instigated by the most fervant of fanatics who called out loudly for the removal of the man who had declared himself Emperor.  New political and protest movements formed to stand against the supposed "unbridled agression of this new Empire" were quickly disbanded and outlawed, so as not to risk fanning the dying flames of rebellion and anarchy into deadly life again.

Leading the fight against this new breed of rebels were the white-armoured symbols of the Empire's great principles of freedom and democracy - the Clone Troopers.  Without them, everyone agreed, the War would have been lost, and with it the life all loyal citizens enjoyed, stomped into the dust under the heel of their enemies.  And with the end of the War many of them were freed from the vital duty of defending the Republic-that-was from it's enemies without, so they were instead turned against the enemies within.  They were always available to support the local law enforcement agencies when it became necessary to combat the dissentors in the ranks, the cancer of sedition growing in the midst of the citizenship.

And so it was that Blue Squad made an orderly exist from their repulsorlift troop carrier on the planet of Enida on a mission to combat just such a hotbed of rebellion.  For many years the system had been a military base for one side or the other during the Clone Wars, it's alignment dependant purely on whose ships held the orbital high ground.  It's longest and current tennants were the forces of the Republic - sorry, Empire - and it had been the centre for troop movements back from the front ever since the end of the War.  So it was understandable that the Empire wanted it to be a safe place, especially considering the number of Jedi that had been present when the order for their immediate arrest had gone out.

So quick had been the response to that order that it was almost as if they had vanished into thin air.  Taken with speed and stealth, everyone said, and shipped back to Coruscant for trial before they could cause any trouble.  That was what the report from the military governor said, and in light of the damage the Jedi had caused on Coruscant everyone was glad for the speedy response.

Sergeant Blue 5411 formed up his men with a gesture, and they followed on behind him as he led the way towards the place the anonymous caller had said the criminals were meeting.  Anonymous tips were the way most reports of clandestine meetings seemed to come in recently, as few citizens seemed happy to stand up and be counted when it came to turning in their neighbours.  Blue 5411 could not understand that mentality.  They should be proud to name themselves true and loyal citizens of the Empire, as proud as he and his clone brothers were to serve those citizens.

Their destination was a warehouse.  Intelligence reports had indicated that, despite all their efforts, there were still kernals of stubborn resistance to be found and eradicated so that there could be a general return to the great democracy the people once enjoyed.  One such kernal had taken to holding meetings in the warehouse in question.

It should have ended with the end of the Jedi, Blue 5411 decided.  An enemy should know when the war is lost.  He nodded to his second and the corporal took his fire team off to the left as Blue 5411 went right.  They would enter through opposite doors for maximum surprise.  The sergeant could see the lights were on only in one part of the target warehouse, so that was where they headed.  It was unlikely they would meet any significant resistance.

Blue 5411 glanced one last time at his second and the six identical soldiers with him, identical both inside and outside their armour, before they vanished from view around the far side of the warehouse.  All was going well.

It was at that point that the ambush struck.

Explosions tore though the first team as nearby objects were suddenly engulfed in flame and threw out shrapnel in all directions.  Men were battered and torn apart by pieces of flying metal.  From what little radio chatter Blue 5411 could make out through the chaos of shouts and screams, the other team had also been hit.  Then there was the sound of blaster fire, followed shortly after by the distinctive yammering of the clone trooper's weapons.  The sergeant's experienced ear told him it sounded like panic fire, loosed at an unseen target.  It did not last long.

Looking around, it seemed to Blue 5411 that he was the only one in his team who had survived the initial blast.  A quick visual check revealed that he himself was not uninjured; the adrenaline in his body and the painkillers injected into him by his armour had dulled the pain in his burnt and broken legs so much that he had not noticed his wounds.  However, his clone brothers were all strewn around him in varying states of injury, but all were unmoving.  He resisted the urge to call to them for status reports, knowing it would alert their enemies to his presence.  Instead he waited for their attackers to make themselves visible.

Their arrival was heralded by more blaster fire.  A series of controlled bursts targetted each member of Blue 5411's team in succession, angry red energy tearing through freshly scarred and broken armour to deal death to the soldier within.  Then, footsteps.  Coming nearer.  Blue 5411 prepared himself to roll out of cover and open fire.  The footsteps stopped…

…and Blue 5411 just barely managed to get himself turned around and onto his side quick enough to catch the terrorist in his sights.  He was not quick enough to fire first, though; the carbine wielded by the lone man standing not ten metres away snapped up and melted away Blue 5411's hopes of avenging his dead comrades as surely as it melted away the armour plating down the trooper's right side.

The clone sergeant's vision swam as he watched the man approach.  Tall, broad-shouldered under a dark jacket.  Military training clear in the manner of his cautious approach.  Each step carefully placed, eyes everywhere.  Rifle held in a distinctly professional manner.  The way he nudged each corpse with his boot hardly seemed professional, however. Eventually the man turned his attention fully to the heavily wounded sergeant at his feet.

There is no communication with others, Blue 5411 registered through the pain.  He is alone.

The man knelt beside him and carefully turned the clone over onto his back.  Light eyes stared at him without pity or any other emotion from a face equally without expression.  After a moment, the man reached over and roughly tugged the sergeant's helmet off.  He stared, then chuckled to himself.

"Idiot," he muttered.  "Like he was going to look different somehow."  A sigh.  "Two months ago," he continued softly, "you led an honour guard of sorts for a Jedi.  Then, the next day, you walked into his room in the barracks we were staying at and shot him down without warning.  I'm a little put out by that."

There was a metallic schink and the terrorist unsheathed a wicked looking blade.  He held it up.

"I know you won't tell me anything," the man told him.  "Resistance to interrogation was no doubt a very desirable trait to add to your template.  So I'll not find out where the order came from from you.  So I'll just kill you instead."

A flash of light on the edge of the blade.  Pain.  Blackness.


Sepheron Museveni left the knife where it was, jutting out underneath the clone's chin, and stood.

Another one down, he thought with satisfaction.  He glanced around at the other bodies.  All in all, a good night's work.  He cocked his head and listened for a moment to the sound of distant sirens.  "Definitely time to leave," he murmured to himself.  The now very dead sergeant was the one who had carried out the order to kill Jian-Han, but a higher ranking clone had relayed that order to him.  And that clone had left Enida a few weeks ago, according to the reports Sepheron has gotten his hands on, transfered to a new post on some backwater world.

Which just left finding one man amongst millions of literally identical soldiers scattered around the galaxy.  Fortunately, he knew enough to narrow the search down to one place.

A small, unimportant world called Terrick…

Re: After The Fall

The atmosphere in the dining chamber was refined, civilized. Orchestral music played softly in the background as elite naval officers, politicians, senators, and celebrity supporters of the newly christened Galactic Empire welcomed each other as well as distinguished visitors from off-planet. Wines and liqueurs, of various planets surrounding the Core, flowed freely, sipped from sparkling crystal chalices. Among them, Sira and Lanah, in their finest and most stylish raiment, chatted decorously with members of their inner circle.

Maximillian Dodonna should have been in his element. The gala reception was precisely the kind of soiree he thrived on, thanks to the influence of his wife, Sira. He sipped a glass of ryll water as he watched Tyrell holding court near the entrance of the dining room, accepting fulsome compliments from the visiting dignitaries from Alderaan while flattering them in return.

The Imperial officer found himself distracted and unable to enjoy himself. His eyes restlessly searched the faces of the crowd, looking for one particular woman, but Sirannon was nowhere to be seen. The Mon Calamari who was conversing with him was starting to become particularly annoying in his presence.

Probably introducing herself to some celebrity she's seen in the latest holovid…, he thought, concealing his growing vexation from the distinguished guest conversing with him. Where in blazes is she now? He wanted to spend some private time together before he was dispatched on his mission to find the criminal Jedi in hiding, especially the particular suspects that had evaded his clone squad in the lower levels.

After all, she was carrying their first child. Would it not be fair to discuss their future before he left? Instead, he was here at this function, in front of this alien.

He glanced over at a tall, black-haired Imperial officer in olive tunic, standing watch over the reception from a discreet corner of the room. This was one of his ensigns who came down with him on his shuttle. Of Alderaan descent, he had the broad shoulders and baleful looks comparable to one of their uprising leaders, Wilhuff Tarkin.

The looming janissary looked somewhat out of place among the mingling socialites, but Dodonna felt better to know that his presence could possibly mean there was a lead in the search for the evading Jedi. He wondered if their planted spy that was assigned to the spaceport had found employment aboard a ship and found them. Did Commander Koortyn need him back on the Eradicator?

He shot the officer a questioning look as the officer searched and found him. The stony-faced ensign nodded his head curtly, approached, and saluted. The captain excused himself and the Mon Calamari guest left.

"Sir. Commander Koortyn has the latest intel from our spy. He wishes to discuss the report when you are finished with this gala. The transmission suspects our Jedi may be hiding on Terrick."

"Excellent," Dodonna replied with a smug smile. "That is good news to hear. When this is over, be sure I will meet him at once. For now, have my shuttle ready. I will quickly make my rounds, have dinner, and say goodbye to my wife. Have the Commander await my arrival."

"Yes, sir." The ensign saluted.

"Very well," he nodded. "Dismissed."

A gaunt representative of Dunn Industries wearing a blue synthsilk sash across the front of his grey suit stepped into the center of the room and tapped a fork against the side of his chalice, calling the room to silence. Dodonna recognized the man as one of Tyrell's commitee members of his company. The aged man waited patiently for the dining chamber's conversations to subside, then cleared his throat. The Imperial captain realized, with a touch of impatience, that the old fool was going to make a speech.

"I wish to make a toast to our CEO, Tyrell Dunn," the commitee member intoned sonorously, "for making our project of the Twin Ion Engine starfighter a reality. When I realized Lord Vader was going to make a presence here to see of our project's approval, we all feared the worst for Tyrell." A circle of laughter was heard from among the guests. Tyrell stood nearby, flushing a bit with embarrasment.

The old man raised his chalice high, leading the assembled aristocrats and officers in a toast.

"To Tyrell Dunn, may his TIE fighter become the staple of our Imperial Navy for generations to come."

A chorus of clinking cystal seconded the toast, and the bearded Maximillian raised his own glass, grateful that the pompous old git had kept his remarks short. Dodonna snuck a peek at the open doorway, hoping to see Sira make an appearance to join him at dinner, but was disappointed once more.

Tyrell raised his voice in announcement. "Now, if we all can take our seats, dinner will start."

A warm hand tugged on his elbow and he turned to see his wife, Sirannon, standing at his side. She was wearing, in keeping with the occasion, a dark sequined dress, with elbow-length black gloves, which complimented the tresses of blonde locks that swirled about her shoulders.

He smiled and let out a small sigh. "I wondered where you vanished to…"

She let out a small giggle. "Oh, the wife of Senator Organa from Alderaan was showing me the latest addition to her family, Leia Organa. She's just the cutest little baby I've ever seen…"

Dodonna shook his head. "Getting some more ideas about raising our future child, Sira?" He took her hand. "Come, let's have dinner now. We don't have much time to spend together. Commander Koortyn is waiting for me above orbit and I may be leaving tonight for Terrick."

He escorted her to their places among the spacious dining table. Later tonight, he would say goodbye to her, meet with Tyrell and leave for his ISD, then finally rest in his quarters with his XO, discussing the report on the text flimsiplast…

Re: After The Fall

"I couldn't help it."

The girl's voice was so quiet Lyton almost didn't hear her. He stood silently for a moment, not quite sure how to react. He'd expected excitement, disbelief, shock at seeing another surviving Jedi… not a hug. Well, not exactly.  Finally he managed a smile. "It's good to see you, too," he told her sincerely. "I'm Lyton Aeros. Former Jedi Knight, former commander of clones, and very current fugitive. And who might you be?"

There would be a lot of catching up to do. That much was certain. For one thing, Lyton was curious to know what this fellow survivor had been up to since the fall of the Republic. How had she survived? Did she know of any other survivors? Lucious would want to know the answer to the last question, he was certain. He cast a glance at Lucious, found him curiously eyeing a particularly colorful hanging plant. Maggi had moved off, going about getting on some tea. She muttered something under her breath as she worked, but Lyton couldn't quite make it out. He didn't really feel the need to know, either. Let the old woman's ramblings remain her own. For now, he concentrated his attention on the only other Jedi in the room.

She was younger than himself, Lyton noticed. Nearly a decade or so he would have guessed. In his mid-thirties, Lyton was a seasoned Jedi - he'd almost been ready to take on a padawan learner of his own and earn the rank of Master. The woman before him looked fresh from her own apprenticeship, barely a knight… too fragile to have survived the slaughter of the Jedi on her own. And yet she had, and here she was.

"Suriah," She said after only a pause that could only have been a few seconds. "Suriah Tihan." Lyton smiled again, and waited for her to go on.

Re: After The Fall

Suriah barely saw Maggi off in a flurry. The other Jedi's thoughts were ticking along a mile a minute; she could feel them flicker against her consciousness like raindrops on a pond. She looked up into his eyes and swallowed hard against the mixture of joy, fear, and sadness whirling through her.

A soldier. A real Knight.

Suriah finally found her voice. "Suriah." She took a deep breath. "Suriah Tihan." She found herself clenching her hands and made herself unfold her fingers and reach for calm. "A-also a Jedi Knight," she finally managed.

She could hear Maggi's steps stop in the back room, and her gaze found the woman looking at her solemnly from the doorway, her grey eyes knowing and sad. Suriah clenched her hand over her mouth a moment, feeling awful for betraying the woman's trust. She gave the other Jedi a glance before walking to Maggi.

"I'm sorry I didn't tell you, Maggi," she murmured desperately, "I just didn't want- didn't-"

Maggi took her hands and squeezed them tight. "-Didn't want the Empire to have any cause to question me?" She shook her head. "I know you meant well."

"You knew," Suriah said, a statement.
"I had a feeling the minute you came through my door. Old eyes may not see as well, child, but they see more. I've known others of your kind." She cut off abruptly and turned back into the kitchen, to add sweet grass to the boiling water.

She wanted to ask Maggi if she'd told someone, but it caught in her throat. The old woman wouldn't betray her, would she? Who could blame her?

The young Jedi whirled back to their visitors, her light brown eyes wide. "How did you find me? How did you know?"

The man who had come in with Lyton uncrossed his arms and finally spoke. "There was a tip," he acknowledged. "But you're in no danger. There are those that want to help the Jedi, not hurt them. I am one of those. And so is your friend Maggi."

"It's okay," Lyton broke in. Suriah could see he looked slightly alarmed, and realized that she was broadcasting her emotions again. "I helped him find you, and wouldn't have done so if it wasn't okay."

She knew fear was a dangerous thing, and closed her eyes to find calm. What would be would be, the Force held her. Gods, how was she supposed to accept that all this fear and danger was meant for them? The Jedi, who had only meant well for the Universe? Hadn't they?

She opened her eyes and shook her head. Down that path of thought was more danger.

"There's so much," she choked out softly. Her lips pressed together tightly and finally found her center again. She breathed. "Maggi, I could really use that tea."

She moved to the table and chairs, and let herself sink down into one, blindly accepting the cup. Suriah was beginning to think- to know- she had not dealt with everything so well as she had been telling herself. The last months and their emotions had all come undone again at the sight of this stranger who had shared the event with her.

She looked up to see the pair had followed her into the kitchen. Maggi leaned against the counter, where other cups of tea rested.  Suriah took a breath and began. "I was a scholar," she murmured, her voice somewhat distant as she let herself remember what had come before. "My Master and I studied everything- mostly in relation to the Force- how to advance control, how to teach the young. My study focus was botany, and the Force in non-sentient things. I am a very sensitive empath and telepath. That's why you're all affected to some degree by how I feel. Everything, even plants, speak to me in their own way." She inhaled the steam rising from the surface of the tea, and let herself feel how everything in the room connected for a moment. "I was here, at the small University north of here. They're especially interested in agriculture, and I had some research my master thought might help them. He sent me alone." She felt her throat close. "I could feel it coming, like a huge black wave. When it happened-" her voice was thick with the tears welling in her eyes and for a long moment she couldn't say it. "I felt every single one." Her voice broke, and she made herself breath, release the memory. Made herself reach for the stability of the Force, and all the objects in the room.

The Jedi felt the dark coil in her belly ease slightly, and sat up straighter.
She sipped her tea as if it were a magic potion. Maybe it would fix it all. Her eyes drifted to the other Jedi's face. Maybe he can.

Re: After The Fall

Getting off a planet that had become little more than one big military outpost while it was on high alert was not an easy task.  It took contacts, false ID, credits and alot of confidence.  Fortunately, Sepheron Museveni had all four, though he was decidedly low in the credits department afterwards.  And so it was that he got a nice window seat in second class on the next available transport ship out of Enida bound for Terrick.

The man sat next to him looked like a businessman.  He had the suit of a businessman, the briefcase of a businessman, and datapad of a businessman.  He was not a businessman, of course; he was a spy.  Sepheron could tell by the way the man looked at the other passengers around them.  He had seen enough professionals use that studying gaze before to recognise it instantly.  Naturally, that also meant he knew how to remain undetected.

"Don't ya hate these backseat flights?"

"What?"  The 'businessman' blinked in surprise.  He looked at Sepheron blankly for a second before getting control of himself, smiling wryly.  "I'm sorry, you surprised me."  He waved his datapad.  "I was reading.  What did you say?"

"I said I hate being all back of the bus like this," Sepheron explained.  "I guess times are tough, though, and expense accounts aren't what they were, with the war and all."  The other nodded.

"We have to manage, though, right?"  The spy chuckled.  "It's the beancounters that rule our lives."

"And buy our tickets," Sepheron nodded.  "Sadly for us."  He held out his hand.  "Norren Strang."

"Harson Wate," the spy introduced himself, shaking the proffered hand.  "I'm in marketing."

"Any good campaigns on the books?"

"Nothing new," Wate shrugged.  "You?"

"Sales," 'Strang' admitted glumly.  "It's the frontline, which means I get shot at more often."  The two laughed at the joke.  Sepheron nodded at the man's pad.  "Looks like you're doing a census there."  The man quickly blanked the screen.

"Just a little thing I like to do," the man admitted sheepishly.  "I like to guess what the other passengers do so I can imagine how I'd pitch a product to them.  A thought experiment really.  Keeps me on my toes and kills time."

Good cover story Sepheron thought.

"Maybe I should try something like that myself," Sepheron mused aloud.  "I could practice my patter on everyone but they'd end up throwing me out the airlock."  He slapped the man on the shoulder and pulled himself to his feet.  "I'm going to stretch my legs in case I need to run any time soon."  Wate laughed and went back to making notes on everyone around them as Sepheron headed up the aisle towards the refreshment area.

One way to avoid the scrutiny of intelligence agents was to remain below the radar, appear unremarkable and avoid impinging on their awareness.  Another was to be in their face enough to be remembered, but not enough for them to really remember you, just the face you showed them.  'Annoying salesman' was today's irritation of choice.

It would only be another six hours before the transport arrived at Terrick. It was not really much more than a long tube filled with seats sat on a big hyperdrive, so it was quite speedy, even on a trip to such an unimportant place.  In point of fact, it was a good place to hide if one wanted to, provided the bluff worked.  It was so good a place that it was almost too good, so no one would look as it was too obvious.  Or, at least, that was the theory.  Not that Sepheron was interested in hiding.

He had a clone to kill.  But first, he had to find him, which, if he was honest, was far from easy.  He would have to get some way to access the military datanet in order to locate his target.  But Terrick was a small world, with only one major city and a small population, and the Imperial presence was smaller still.  Should not be too hard to find him.  The lower class of outpost suggested a similarly lower level of security and this made Sepheron's chances of ending this thing good.

Not for the first time, Sepheron wondered what Jian-Han would have thought of his little rampage.  He would have been dismayed, and certainly outraged at the murders being carried out in his name.  Disgusted, even.  The Jedi Council would have been having fits.  He grinned at the thought of those robed mystics wringing their hands and shaking their heads, which was about as far as their condemnation of him had ever got.

"Something funny?"

Sepheron turned from the bar.  Wate, it seemed, had decided to stretch his legs as well.

"Just thinking about one of my old employers," Sepheron replied smoothly.  He smiled as he quickly considered and disregarded several ways of killing the spy and hiding his body.  "They used to go crazy at the expenses I tried to get past them."  He looked at his empty glass and then at the man next to him.  "Get you a drink?"

"Thanks."  Wate rubbed his eyes.  "I just wish we'd get to Terrick.  The sooner we do, the sooner I can get back."  He sighed.  "There's nothing there worth seeing."

"Ah, the sacrifices we make, huh?"  Sepheron gestured to the bar droid, which was literally the bar; it seemed to grow straight up out of it.  It prepared two drinks, and Wate quickly snagged his and drank half of it in one gulp.

"I needed that, thanks."  He saluted Sepheron with the glass.  "Catch you later."  Sepheron nodded in reply.

He watched the unremarkable man with the watchful eyes walk away down the aisle, his own smile slipping off as fast as it had come on, leaving something dark in it's wake.  Something about the man just irritated Sepheron… which was not a healthy thing to do at the best of time.

I wonder if I can arrange for him to choke on his drink…


With a shudder the transport dropped out of hyperspace.  This meant that finally Sepheron had something new to look at, even if all he could see was the black of space.  At least Wate had shut up… which was mostly the effect of the sleeping pill Sepheron had dissolved in the last drink the spy had drunk.  Just enough to make him a little drowsy.  It also presented an opportunity to look through the man's belongings, but he discovered nothing of particular interest.  All the juicy intel was probably in locked files on his personal computer, and he had neither the time nor equipment to access them.

And then, the darkness outside got considerably more interesting.  First, the lush green-ness of Terrick… then the small Imperial cruiser in orbit above it.

Looks like the vanguard for a larger force, Sepheron guessed.  Many of the passengers were looking out the windows at the military ship, and the muttering of opinions and theories filled the air.  Maybe someone is on the way here… or just left.  He glanced around suddenly, taking in the expressions of everyone around him, calculating.  Or they are after someone who had just arrived… or is about to.

He quickly blanked his expression and sat back in his seat, watching the cruiser outside all the time.

Just a coincidence, he told himself.  I covered my tracks too well to be found so quickly.  Must be something else.  A something else that could jeopardise his mission to track down and kill the clone commander.  He had the feeling that things were only going to get much more complicated.

Re: After The Fall

"It's been hard for all of us," Lyton told Suriah. He, too, remembered the massacre of the Jedi in a very personal way. He'd been at the temple proper when the assault had come. Thousands of clone troopers pouring through the entryway with blasters spitting blue energy at eveything that moved. The first Jedi to fall had been so surprised, many had been gunned down without even activating their lightsabers. Many more had opted to stay and fight… and ultimately, to die. A few others, realizing that they couldn't stand against such an assault, opted to flee.

It was a decision that had hurt Lyton to his very soul, and it was a decision that haunted him still. Had he stayed, he would have died. He knew that. But running, leaving his fellow Jedi to die at the hands of their betrayers… Tears stung Lyton's eyes as he remembered. He stood in one of the well lit hallways of the Jedi temple, lightsaber in hand as others ran past him to help in the defense of the temple. Only a friend's hand on his shoulder kept Lyton from joining them.

"They are too many! Lyton, we cannot hold them! Our only chance is to flee, before they secure all egress."

"Jedi are dying, Asmin! Can't you feel it?" The pain of every death echoed through him like a shockwave. "I can't just leave them!"

The cacaphony of battle thundered behind the conversation, stacatto energy blasts coupled with the vengeful buzz of lightsaber blades.

"If you stay, you'll die." Asmin grasped Lyton's shoulders tightly, her blue eyes piercing his like a blaster bolt. "If the temple falls, someone must remain to carry on the fight."

Lyton had gone then, shame burning within him even as he realizezd Asmin was right. They'd headed for one of the speeder bays, hoping that the clone troopers wouldn't have gotten so far yet. They'd been wrong. Asmin fell, and Lyton had lived. He still felt guilt at the thought that she had died to secure his escape. Almost without thought, his hand went to the lightsaber tucked into the small of his back. It's cold, heavy weight was as much a physical manifestation of Lyton's failure as it was a momento of the woman who had carried it. As his fingers touched the burnished steel of the weapon, he once again felt the gnawing influence of the dark side. Master Yoda had once said fear was the path to the dark side. Lyton felt sure he had stared down that path, and some days he didn't think it was a bad thing.

Realizing he'd lapsed into silence and memories, Lyton refocussed on Suriah. "Things are going to get better," He told her with as much confidence as he could. "Lucious and his people are searching out other survivors. You and I, we're just the first. In time, we might find enough to rebuild the Order. Take the fight back to the Emperor. Speaking of which, you need to make a choice. If you stay here, you could be found out. We found you, so could the Empire. Come with me… with us… help us find others."

Maggi came by then, tea in hand. She offered some to Lyton, but he politely refused. Even so, the old woman hovered nearby. Suriah sipped at her tea, and Lyton could feel the wheels turning in her head. He hoped she would agree to come with Lucious and himself… but what if she didn't? If she decided to stay, Lyton wasn't sure what he'd think.

Suriah studied the two of them for a moment. She felt lost. She didn't see that she had a choice, really- she'd put Maggi in enough danger as it was. She had to leave, that much was certain, but where was she going? What was she getting into?

That Lyton was a Jedi was obvious, but who was the man with him? Why did he trust him? She couldn't read the other man with the older Jedi well. He seemed very neutral,  and that worried her.

We can't trust anyone anymore. Not even each other.

Her brown eyes fixed on the other man, who had been mostly silent. "What's in this for you?"

Lucious smiled and looked from Suriah to Lyton. "Well," He said, "I've been promising explanations. I guess it's time I filled you in." He crossed the room and grabbed a rickety looking chair, lowering himself into it and getting comfortable. "My name is Lucious," He told Suriah. "I work for a company who shall remain nameless… at least for the time being. Suffice it to say, the corporation was never a hundred percent on the straight and narrow. There have always been things we kept secret, under the sensors. During the rule of the Republic, corruption made it easy. Now it's a whole lot harder. The fact that our corporate big wigs are appalled at the extermination of the Jedi aside, there are more… practical… benefits to rescuing as many as possible." Lucious paused then, stopping to collect his thoughts and sort out exactly what he wanted to say.

"Let me put it to you this way. The galaxy is a very dangerous place for a Jedi. Any ally is valuable, especially one adept at keeping things hidden from the government. In return for such protection, it's our hope that the Jedi we help will be willing to help us in return. We wouldn't ask much. But having a negotiator who could influence the other party's mind would be invaluble. And when it came to protecting some of our less than legal operations, there's no better bodyguard than a Jedi. And what's more, we know you're honorable. If you give your word, you'll keep it." Lyton leaned back in his chair now, looking serious. "You can be certain we'll keep ours. And if, in time, you manage to rebuild the Jedi Order and reinstate a Republic we certainly won't interfere. All we'd ask is you remember who your friends are."

And just like that Lucious was back to being his charming, smiling self. Directing every ounce of charisma he could muster at Suriah, he asked, "So how about it? Are you with us?"

Suriah felt her jaw squaring. She had known that it couldn't be so simple. She couldn't have been found by someone who merely wanted to help because it was right. No, they wanted to use them for their own advantage.

Safe she might be, but…

"I will never bend another's will or thoughts if it is against their own advantage," she found herself saying coldly. "That's the path to darkness as anyone trained in the Force would tell you. I would gladly protect anyone in need of protection, but I am no warrior." She wanted to spit out the bad taste in her mouth. "I'll be leaving, but if those are your terms I think I'll have to take my chances on my own."

She met Lyton's eyes, dissapointed. Had he known these were the man's terms? Was he going to let someone use the Force through him?

He obviously wasn't turning out to be the magic fix she'd hoped he'd be. She set down her cup of tea and stood. She would need to get things from her room. She had much more important tasks than filling the accounts of the black market with creds.

Lucious glanced briefly at Lyton, obviously hoping for a little support. The Jedi raised an eyebrow in return. He'd expected some sort of deal in exchange for help, and this wasn't far off. In fact, it was much better than it could have been, considering. Even so Lyton could tell Suriah was right. Manipulating other people's minds was out of the question, even if being a bodyguard wasn't. Then again, it came down to one simple question. Could Lyton survive the Empire without help? Could Suriah? And how would they ever find other Jedi survivors on their own?

"I think," Lyton said in response to Lucious' look, "That we may need to do a little renegotiating. Suriah," He appealed to the younger Jedi, "I think this is worth considering. It may be distasteful, but it may also be necessary. The Empire and Vader are hunting us… and if we want to fight back, we'll need resources."

"I won't try and force you to do anything you don't want to do," Lucious put in. "The boss certainly knew there would be Jedi who would react like this. I'm sure we can find some arrangement that will work. For now, it will be enough for you to simply help us find other survivors. After that… if you want to go it alone, we won't stop you. But at least consider the offer."

Suriah kept her gaze on Lyton. "Each Jedi has to follow their own path, I suppose. I'll get my things." The girl dissapeared up the stairs to her room.

The journey starts

Very early in the morning Donal finished personally the packing of the suitcase, that Tyrell would take on board of the Imperial Star Destroyer as he heard the sound of the doorbell. He heard one of the servants open the entrance and talking to a male voice, Donal didn’t recognise. Wondering about who would dare to disturb at this hour the Butler decided to check if it was something important. As he walked down the stairs he saw a young uniformed man discussing with Averna, one of Lanah Dunn’s handmaidens.  “Is there a problem?” Donal asked as he stopped next to the girl. “I’m Donal, the major-domo of this estate. May I help you?”

The officer, a kind of parcel under his arm, turned to him. “Sir, I have a delivery for Mr. Dunn.” Donal frowned. “And where is the problem now? Why didn’t you hand it to the young Miss?” The man straightened. “I have my orders from Lord Vader personally to hand it to Mr Dunn, telling him the instructions going with that.” Donal blinked, throwing a glance to the parcel. “I’ll see if Master Tyrell is awoken already.”

~~~

After the officer left again, Tyrell, wearing a housecoat over his pyjama, stared still at the content of the parcel in his hands. Lanah joined him. Even this early in the morning without makeup and being dressed properly, she appeared perfect. Tyrell smiled, surprised that his feelings for her had become more deeply while their marriage. She did put an arm around her husband, looking at the parcel. Her eyes widened as she recognised that it contained the uniform of an Imperial officer. Knowing that Tyrell was listed still as reservist her heartbeat became faster as she asked fearfully: “They drafted you for their terrible war against the Jedi?” Tyrell shook his head, placing one arm around his wife, kissing her forehead. “No. Don’t worry. The Imperial Intelligence is thinking that I could attract an assassination or kidnapping attempt when Palpatine’s opponent will find out about our little project. And that I would be a prime target when I run around in civilian clothes and they knew that I’m the head behind the TIE. So Lord Vader himself send a Commander’s uniform to me with the order to wear it as disguise, so I’ll not stand out on board.” But his words didn’t made anything better. “Assassination or kidnapping?!” Lanah was really shocked now. “Tyrell, stop doing business with these people! Think of your family!” Tyrell took her into his arms to calm her. “I can’t. Nobody says no to the Emperor. Or to Lord Vader.”

~~~

The shuttle shook as it crossed the ion storm that was racing around Imperial Center’s atmosphere. All ships, which had been in orbit before, had left as space control had given the storm warning, waiting in safe distance. Tyrell had hoped that they would delay his start, but obviously ion storms were something that didn’t exist as excuse for Lord Vader. So his ship fought its way through the inconvenience that did let the small vessel jigging and tailspinning into all directions. Tyrell, wearing the uniform of a Navy Commander, looked pale as he was wondering if the pilot had still the control about where they were going. The co-pilot turned around to him. “Just some turbulence, Sir. This is nothing. You should have been with us five months ago as we ran into a far worse storm above Dantooine.” He laughed almost by his memories. “Even the squad of Clone Troopers we were transporting shot their lunch all over the passenger compartment.” To Tyrell’s terror the co-pilot took a ration bar out of a pocket. “You want a bite, Sir?” The man’s grin became a little evil as he noticed that Tyrell’s paleness mixed with a slight shade of green.

~~~

Tyrell sighed relieved as he felt the safety of the Eradicator surrounding him. His legs felt a little unsteady still as he walked down the shuttle ramp. A Lieutenant, who saluted,  was waiting for him. First Tyrell was surprised, but then he remembered that he was wearing the uniform of a Commander and returned the military greeting. “Commander Dunn, I’ll bring you to the Captain, Sir.”

While they were walking through the hallways towards Dodonna’s ready room, Tryell’s walk became firm again. He started even to think about technical innovations for this kind of ship. Finally they arrived at their destination. As he stepped into the room Maximillian Dodonna rose from his chair. “Tyrell! There you are at last.” The old friends shook hands, then Dodonna turned to introduce him to a man, who was also wearing the same uniform than Tyrell. “This is my first officer Commander Jared Koortyn. Jared, meet Tyrell Dunn, one of the best engineers of the Empire.” As they exchanged a greeting Tyrell noticed something in the eyes of the man, that obliged him to explain. “I apologise for the uniform. It’s Lord Vader’s idea of a low profile.”