Chapter 1 Pirates

Onboard the Telosian cruiser Dynamo several officers were crowded around a table in the cafeteria as they watched yet another game of dejarik. Captain Nolan had offered to buy the entire crew a round of whatever they wanted if anyone could beat him. Of course, countless tournaments later and he remained undefeated and supremely confident in his ability to continue winning.

His crew of 54 were largely kids, kids in his old eyes at least. A few men who saw combat with the rebellion, and some aliens whose background he was still unsure of. But Captain Nolan was content, though they weren’t the best they were still a good crew. Hardy, attentive, and easy going he had yet to have any problems during their current 8-month rotation.

The current rounds of dejarik had been going on for a few hours at this point and more than a few credits had changed hands. He was just beginning to encircle and decimate his opponent when an alert came from the bridge.

“Captain, unregistered vessel approaching. Looks like an old skiff, can’t be more than two aboard.” Yolan voice was heavy with fatigue. Given that he was the worst at the game, he volunteered to oversee the bridge and radar. He had yet to miss a single craft, and the crew was getting better at their rapid inspections.

“Right, hail them.” He turned to his current opponent and flashed a smile. “Saved by the sensors, grab your gear and let’s make this quick. Hiaj, Mort, Glum combat suits I want you on stand-by. The rest of you find something useful to do. Each of you owe me a half weeks’ worth of pay.” Small groans and laughs came out of the assembled crew. They hadn’t realized just how complete the captain’s victory would be.

He made his way to the second deck where he put on the blaster belt and officers’ hat he had left hanging. As he waited his junior officer, Fin, came running down the corridor as the docking ports had latched onto each other. Nolan motioned for the young kid to follow as he began unlatching the door.

“You don’t want to wait for the stand-by crew?” he asked breathlessly.

“For what? Probably one lone smuggler on board. Going planet-side, so who cares what he’s got hidden away. It’s the fuckers stealing the terraforming equipment we care about.”

“Right sir” Fin did his best to relax but couldn’t, he felt his heart jumping in his chest. He was the newest member of the crew, recently graduated from the Academy set up by the interim government.

“Relax son, most of these guys don’t want the trouble or attention. Be patient and professional and it’ll be over before you know it. Oh, and never let them know it’s your first time.” The captain smiled and winked at the confused young man. He chuckled as he stepped forward onto the other ship, but his smile disappeared immediately when he saw the silky black imperial fatigues.

“State your name and business.” He had instinctively rested a hand on his blaster before quickly moving it. He glanced at Fin to make sure he followed his lead.

“Ilus. Don’t have a last name, don’t really need one. Business is trade friends.”

“What kind of trade?” Fins question was sharp, the boy’s face had turned a shade of red and his knuckles had turned white as he gripped the blaster on his hip. Nolan motioned for him to relax but the boy paid him no mind as his eyes were glued to the smuggler.

Ilus smiled and raised his hands palms forward. “Calm friend, this your first time? Here, I’m just coming home, and I don’t got shit on board.’ Ilus slipped his data sheet across the floor towards the officers and leaned back.

“Ilus Cantor of New Ghorra, son of Melius and Vemia. That your destination? New Ghorra?”

“Yeah. That’s home.” Ilus did his best to smile, but his eyes refused to cooperate. He was never good at lying.

“Your friends destroyed the city a while ago. So now New Ghorra is off limits, too much radiation left from the bombardments. Hope your folks are okay” Fin had practically spat that last part as his postured crumbled in the face of the bastard who sided against his own people.

Before things could escalate, Nolan stepped forward “Thought you didn’t have a last name?” The smugglers smile only depended. “What’s your story friend.” Nolan did his best to at least sound friendly. He offered a smile not dissimilar to Ilus, much like the smuggler he was terrible at lying and his often eyes betrayed the truth.

“Oh, well that’s a long one, its pretty good though. If you’ve got the time.” Ilus dropped his hands and leaned back into his seat keeping a sharp eye on the two.

“Oh, nothing but time up here” He looked down at his data pad as the information on the ship came back. An old Telosian design with an expired registration. He flicked the message over to Fin, let the boy calm down while he files the paperwork Nolan thought to himself.

“Well then….” Ilus leaned forward and began to speak in a low deep voice. Doing his best to take the role of an old storyteller.

“You remember the first death star? Probably not, people like you wouldn’t know something like that. Empire was good at things like that. The lying. Anyway, the rebellion managed to blow the thing sky high. The first time, you know, when it was all clones, millions of them – gone in a flash, no one cared. In fact, we all felt some great weight lift from our shoulders. We thought the emperor did it on purpose to save us the trouble. You ever go toe to toe with clones? Mean, vicious bastards. Fucking Relentless too. No fear, fucking gene stealers ensured that. Galaxies greatest warriors if you ask me. Under Lord Vader they were unstoppable. It was glorious. Probably why we were ordered to purge the Kaminoans. That was a good fight, though we lost a lot of good men. Those left were worthy of the Storm trooper name.” Fin looked up from his data pad and shot the captain a questioning look and for his part, Nolan waved for him to continue the pad as Ilus rambled on.

There is a point here I’m sure Nolan thought as he attempted to remember the Imperial dispatches concerning Kamino. The planet was made famous by the republic after its discovery by one of the Jedi. That and the millions of clone soldiers. He was old enough to remember that much. But a purge? That never made it round, guess it wouldn’t though. Of course, this one might be full of it. But the old captain knew better. A career spent corralling the criminal elements of Telos had taught him a thing or two. Either there was a point to this, or the bastards just mad.

“Some men even laughed” Ilus continued “Not about the Kaminoans about the clones. Everyone knew they’d turn on us. They slaughtered their jedi commanders without a second thought. No loyalty, only genetic code no one really understood. To be frank, I never wanted to fight them, no one did. The one time on Kamino was enough for me. Fought us for every inch of ground. Good riddance I said.” Suddenly Ilus’ tone had shifted. He no longer sounded like an exaggerated storyteller, instead he sounded angry. The next words rolled of his tongue as if he was speaking of the vilest events that had ever occurred. “The second time though. The second death star that is. That hit far closer to home. Everyone had a friend stationed there. They took troops from each of the 12 Stormtrooper legions and stationed them onboard the death star. Vader’s new legion. All dead, just like those bastard clones. I think a lot more of us understood the true state of the Empire then. Just how close we were to collapse. I think that’s why most of them went along with it. My plan that is.”

“Alright what exactly- “Nolan was getting fed up, rumors of one planetary sized superstation had traveled the galaxy. No one heard of a second one. That would be impossible.

Ilus continued, speaking over the captain, and relaxing his tone again “In the weeks following the death star we jumped from system to system, we thought we were going to get revenge. Didn’t take us too long to realize we were practically fugitives. When news of the battle for Coruscant came we all knew the empire was gone. We were too far to contribute, and the Admiral told no one what we were doing. We could have seized any number of the planets we happened on. But the Admirals said no. Said we couldn’t be caught planet side by the New Republic. Said we were searching for something while leaving a false trail. All the while the men were fed tails of galaxy wide reprisals for imperial collaborators. A crackdown on anyone associated with the Empire. You know what’s funny?” Ilus paused and stared down the two men with a genuine smile. Nolan had taken note of the changes in his demeanor throughout the conversation. “Deralia. Command had no idea half the damn crew was from Deralia. One of those things. Alignment of the starts or something. We needed supplies. Half the crew was from the planet. And Deralia had recently declared for the Republic. And the bastards took a shot at us.

I proposed we make an exercise of it, raid the planet for what we need and bunker down for a minute. Give the men some rest. Admiral paid no mind. I was just a voice in the wind as far as he was concerned. He ordered a bombardment. Most of the population was concentrated in the major cities. Told him about the murmurs from the crew. Concern for family and the like. Just more air in the wind. Fucking typical that. You know those bastards never once consulted the Corps officers. Never. If something needed to be done, we were just thrown in. Just a storm of white to blot out all their problems.” His voice dripped anger once again.

When the first turbo-lasers fired, I saw my chance. I shot the bastard.” Suddenly the smile on his face changed to that of a predator, cruel and without remorse Ilus recounted his coup. “Purged the crew, the navy ones not the storm legion. And gave the boys the vent they needed. We hit Deralia fast and hard for supplies, didn’t lose too many. True to our name, we stormed that planet and before they could mount an effective response the storm was gone. Like a flash in the night. Screams of terror and the smoke and ruins were all that was left. The Legion had some rage in them then. Picked up a lot of the information we had missed in the last few months. Empire in defeat. Navy admirals are locked in a power struggle. The storm legions ignored and toyed with as always. They were fucking pissed. Needed to get them calm again. So, I ordered the raid on the neighboring system Tatrang IV. I ordered the wholesale slaughter of the men and the enslavement of the women and the children too. Needed the men exhausted, needed them to vent every bit of their rage. I have fucking plans, and I needed discipline not blind anger.” There was no cruelty in his voice as he spoke of the massacre, just a level tone giving a matter-of-fact recounting of events. Ilus slowly relaxed as he continued. “Thankfully, most of the ground officers had fallen to my command. Anyone who protested was shot. We lost the rest of the crew that day. Or the Naval side of the crew anyway, most of the stormtrooper legion remained loyal to me. Most.”

At this point Fin had let the tablet fall to his side as he looked on with confusion. The destruction on Tatrang IV was known throughout the galaxy. Many had assumed it was huts. In fact, the government of Telos had confirmed that very thing.

Ilus, ignoring their disbelieving stares continued “Eventually we made our way to Tatooine. Slavers there don't ask too many questions. Was a good haul. Not too many of the boys deserted either. That was real good news. They were all scared veterans. Held their own against the Wookie tribes of Kashyyyk. The bad news was they stayed because it was clear they had nowhere else to go. They were criminals now; and the New Republic was hunting stormtroopers like it was some sort of religion. Each trial a sacrifice on the altar of their new blood god. So, I decided to remind them of something. They had a place, they had skill. They were fucking killers. Good ones too. Told em to wait for me while I traveled home. Brought 10 of the best back with me. The rest are somewhere abouts.

“Now I – or we I suppose, are here being interrogated by you bastards.” Ilus finished his summary with a laugh. He was not smiling. He simply stared into the unbelieving eyes of the two officers.

The Telosian officer rolled his eyes and said, “We stopped you because your ship's licenses are expired….” He made some notes on his Data pad, going over the work one last time, before continuing “Look, it’s a 500 credit fine. No need to give us a hard time. We are waving it due to all the confusion. Telos won't be joining the new republic, everyone up tops’ still figuring things out.” Fin had become exasperated with the smuggler. Angry at first, the over-the-top story had burned his anger out and all that was left was confusion.

“Yeah… I would not go around repeating any of that.” Nolan chimed in. “This is Telos. As I am sure you know, plenty of folks who lost people to the suppression. Don’t go telling folks you were some imperial war criminal. Or any made-up stories for that matter” Nolan had moved his hand from his blaster to his hip, he too was irritated at having to deal with whatever this situation was. His mind had wondered to the game of dejarik this fucker had interrupted. He was just wasting their time.

“Here's your ticket. Get this ship registered planet side within 30 rotations or the fine triples. Welcome home.” The officer spoke the last part slowly while he stared at his fellow Telosian with profound disgust “You know – “

“Leave it Fin” Nolan placed a hand on his partner's shoulder and began to guide him back towards their own vessel. But Ilus spoke out first.

“Both my parents were killed in a rebel assault. Before the suppressions. What side would you have suggested I join?” That was a lie. Both of his parents were presumably alive and well. But Ilus Cantor? Someone murdered his parents. Then they broke the poor boy’s neck and stole his identity. A smile creeped over the face of Ilus as he stared down the Telosian officers.

This text was taken from Royal Road. Help the author by reading the original version there.

Neither officer spoke a word as they glanced back at him. Instead, Fin rolled his eyes as Nolan shifted his attention back towards the smuggler. A dangerous glint now appeared behind the blue eyes of the old man. Ilus smiled as Nolan stared right back at him. He was not very impressed with what he saw. An obvious smuggler, he wore military fatigues with a faded imperial insignia. Likely a deserter. His skin was blacker than sin and his eyes were darker than the Ghaarah’n abyss. The man laughed without smiling, but his eyes played a different game entirely. A sort of chaos was reflected there, and Nolan was unsure of how to interpret the look. A strange mix of intelligent and psychotic. His braided hair was kept in the military fashion, the sides were faded with a single braid down the middle, where it stopped, he could not see. The man was a bit too thin, almost skeleton like, with a hard jawline and a voice that was light and carefree. He cast a short side glance at his junior officer.

Barley out from the new academy, Fin had seen no major action, no bust nor arrest, and this was in fact his first job. In fact, this was his first job on the job. The boy was green and couldn’t spot a lie if it came from the mouth of a Hutt. Because the smuggler was lying. About what he could not tell. The only thing was, is it truly worth the trouble. He was dam sure a former imperial. He had the look of a man who had seen combat. But that story? No way in hell that was true. Just a waste of fucking time. But for what, Nolan couldn’t say. Damn, should have waited for the others. They should be here by now. With that final thought, he was starting to piece together a few truths he had heard in the far-fetched tale. For one, a fleet of imperial warships had shown up to Tatooine. No one knew why, but that was true. He turned, took a couple of steps towards the docking port. My men, they should be here by now. He once again thought as a cold chill ran down his spine. He spun back towards the smuggler, hand once more on his blaster.

“Hold on. You said there were ten of you? Where are the others?”

“Eleven total. All Killers. Like I said.”

“And where are they?”

Ilus moved faster than either one of them was ready for. Despite all appearances his laid-back demeanor was nothing more than a show. Put on to distract the two officials from the blaster he had drawn the minute their eyes had started glazing over. Ilus fired twice and by the time their corpses hit the ground, the stink of burnt flesh and blaster smoke already overwhelmed the ship. “Off killing, I suppose.” If he had been alive, old Nolan would have seen the fiendish smile and the pure chaos in the eyes of Ilus. “This is where the fun begins.” He chuckled as he rose and began walking toward the other ship. The stench of blood and death hung heavy in the air.

Chapter 2 Old Rivals

The greatest day of her life was the day she graduated the imperial flight academy on Lianna. The look in her father’s eyes when her name was called was almost enough to make up for the years of abuse. Almost.

Coming from one of the great families of Lianna, her childhood was perfect. She got perfect grades, perfect attendance, perfect speech, perfect clothes, perfect friends. Her mother had ensured that every part of her life was perfect, including her child.

When the Emperor himself appointed her father as Governor of Lianna, her mother made sure that their perfect daughter was flawless. The daughter of an Imperial senator, she said, must be a shining example of the new Imperial order. The daughter of a governor, however, must be like imperial authority itself. Flawless.

So, when she saw the genuine pride in her father’s eyes, it almost made all of it worthwhile. Of course, she had long since realized it was for the hollo screens. It would look strange if he remained as stone faced as ever. He had to remind the citizens that he had a heart too. That and because her graduation makes him look good on Coruscant his happiness was genuine. His only surviving child is now a commissioned officer in the Imperial Navy. The propaganda basically wrote itself.

It was those thoughts on her mind as she once again looked at a small jar placed on the ledge in front of her father’s seat. Created by a woman who never existed. Placed there by a man who would never be seen again. And packed full of soil to hide the explosives hidden in the very center. The only reason it had not detonated yet was because her father had yet to take his seat.

The only thing left was to hope those rebel fools managed to delete her badge scan. They had ‘borrowed’ her id badge and gave her a duplicate in its place. The duplicate she wore was completely fake, they could not give the badge access in time and there was no reason to do so.

Officially, she was an Ensign in the Imperial Navy. Usually, there was no graduation ceremony, and everyone received their postings and were immediately scattered across the galaxy. But this was a bit different. Not every day that a Governor's daughter is commissioned, at the top of her class no less. Her father wanted it known just who exactly was graduating with flight class 224. Hence the ceremony.

Just as she was getting lost in thought, her father appeared on the central stage. Her heart skipped a beat as she began to think that he might remain there. As her mother had taught her, she mastered her emotions and showed the world the same grim and determined look she always had. From the podium, her father could see the difference. He would die wondering what could cause the girl to be so anxious about his own ascension. Surely by now she understands the importance of familial prestige.

Jihar gave his speech while the attending dignitaries laughed at all the right cues and provided a standing ovation when it was over. Jihara was never listening, just silently praying to the emperor that the bastard would return to his chair when he finished. She glanced, quickly, at her mother. Quiet and composed, she sat chit up, head and eyes forward, staring at her father as if he was the only thing in the whole galaxy. To their credit, as far as Jihara could tell, the love between her parents was real. The common thread between them was the obsession with power. But they were in love, that much she was sure of. She often wondered whether they would choose power or each other. She had once deluded herself on that point but the truth was neither would hesitate to sacrifice the other. Neither would they begrudge the other for making the choice. They were literal soulmates after all.

Jihara once more quietly thanked the stars that she took after her mother. Long blonde hair that ended at the waist, wide sea green eyes, and a small nose, she was probably the most beautiful person in the room. Planet side media had turned her into a celebrity, and her fashions and styles quickly became the planetary norm. She was an icon to all Lianna, symbolizing the beauty, grace, and strength of their mighty planet. Or that is how the propaganda goes. The only thing Jihara got from her father was his jet-black hair, otherwise she was her mother’s clone.

When the applause died down, Grand Admiral Thrawn rose to take center stage. As the rumors went, due to the recent unrest in the Tion sector and its importance to Naval command, an over-sector was to be created. With Thrawn as its Grand Moff. While some would consider this to be wild speculation. Several important figures, to include her father, believed it to be true. Others saw the tall Chiss and saw nothing but an outsider, despite his abilities. Being non-human was typically an unforgivable sin in the eyes of Coruscant. His exceptional ability had led him far, but the supremist nature of the Empire could not be overcome so easily.

For the first time, she lost control of her facial expression and displayed a frown. It was not her intention to weaken the Empire by killing one of its greatest commanders. Besides that, she personally admired the man. Rumored to be both ruthless and cunning in equal measure, the only complaint his detractors could make was of his heritage. He was one of the Empire's only undefeated commanders and his record against the rebellion proved his worth. Wherever he went, hope for the rebellion died.

As she listened to his speech, their eyes locked and she immediately resumed her practiced expression. Once he had finished, she sent a silent prayer that he would not return to the viewing box with the official party.

As it turns out, there was nothing to be concerned about. Her father had made his way back to his seat and when Thrawn concluded his speech he remained on stage to personally pin the insignia on the graduates. When her time came, the admiral leaned close while pinning on her rank and whispered “Why so anxious?” Her heart fell into the pit of her stomach, but she performed the best salute she could and began her descent from the stage without comment. Thankfully other events began to transpire.

When the bomb exploded a wave of heat washed over the entire room as ruble and flame spread panic. Her walk quickly turned into a desperate sprint. Years and years of abuse made it difficult to hide the insane look in her eyes. She feverishly shifted through the wreckage and the rubble. She had to know if he was dead. She had to know if she had killed her father.

When her classmates finally pulled her away from the rubble, her soot smeared face had trails of tears running down both sides and her hands were singed and smoking from the burning rubble. She howled like some creature possessed as her classmates dragged her away. Someone had grabbed her by the shoulders and was shouting something she could not hear over the ringing in her ears and the thumping of her heart. In her mind's eye, she could still see the hand with her father’s ring. No one ever knew that her howling was not the grief of a daughter but instead the laughter of a madwoman, silenced by a medic’s syringe.

After she woke, she was immediately put in front of cameras and given a script that had her swear to avenge the death of her beloved parents and to never cease in her fight to end the rebel scum who did this. That and a whole lot of other propagandic nonsense that she rattled off like a good soldier. Thrawn had been present, but he had not said a word. Instead, he looked at her with a hint of suspicion in his eyes. If he truly knew or suspected anything, he never voiced it. He was recalled to Coruscant shortly after and that was the last she saw of him for a while.

True to her word, when imperial intelligence found the rebel hideout on the planet Jihara had led the first bombers down in her interceptor. Naturally she was only there for propaganda. They had no real air cover to speak of, just a few hand-fired launchers that had no chance of hitting an Imperial star-fighter. The Lion of Lianna had done nothing more than watch as her friends burned for her ambition. The propogandist made it sound a bit more heroic.

Now, the worst day of her life had been when the Empire fell. Truth be told, she could care less about the Empire, rebellion, the Firebirds, her own Claws of Nymek. All of it could burn. So long as the bastard in the yellow striped A-wing, code named Bee, was dead. That was all that mattered. That, and that he died by her own turbolasers.

So, when the orders for the ceasefire came, she fired her proton torpedoes anyway. She pumped the starfighter full of turbolaser when it attempted to doge. And when control demanded she ground herself immediately, she continued to massacre the remaining members of the enemy wing. Even going so far to switch to a private channel and order her squadron to begin runs on the enemy cruisers.

When the battle resumed, her heart was near to bursting. She lost herself in the thrills of piloting her interceptor. All those years of training and fighting had honed her skills to an incredible height. She was invincible. Those who witnessed her glory would say that it was almost like watching a performance. Her fighter dipped and rolled this way and that as she lit the sky with green. After all those years of training and fighting rebel scum, this would be her finest hour. Snatched away all too quickly.

With their fighter squadrons decimated and the Imperial destroyers once against opening fire, the rebel forces were torn apart with relative ease. “Leave none alive” she spoke calmly into her transmitter. Her squadron began a ruthless decimation of the escape pods and remaining starcraft of the rebel force. Planet side witnesses would say that even they could hear the cries for mercy over the open net. Cries that were met with the deafening sound of turbolaser.

The moment she returned to the Interloper, she had expected to be shot. Instead, the reaction was more of a…...mixed bag. When the deck officer ordered her arrest, the surrounding stormtroopers looked confused. Other pilots exiting their craft immediately drew their blasters.

“The Emperor is dead. His Empire is burning and you want to arrest one of its last hero’s?” Her wingman Jilk was red from head to toe.

“She's gone too far! That was a ceasefire direct from high command!”

Jilk shot back “Those were rebel scum! There can be no peace until they're all dead! That was also the order from high command.”

“Orders change! This empire values discipline and punishes those who fail to obey, now fall in line, screecher.” By then the surrounding troopers had made up their mind and raised their blasters at the returning pilots.

“You fucking bastard, the Empire is gone! We are all that is left, and you want to execute one of our greatest fighters!” Jilk was roaring at this point, but Jihara could see that the battle had already been lost. They were outnumbered 5 to 1 by the troopers and they all feared the deck officer more than they cared for the pilot.

“It's fine” she turned to her now gathered squadron and gave a crisp salute. “It was an honor to fight alongside you.” As she turned a trooper took a step forward and slammed the butt of his blaster into her chin. Her last thought was of a smiling bastard in a black imperial flight suit. Hagen you basta-

Chapter 3 Closing

Not for the first time did Myllus pass by a poor soul lying on the side of the street. A young Twi’lek, her eyes and ears were leaking blood and it looked like her skin had melted, then fused, with the cold dark pavement she lay on. What remained of her skin was nothing more than sores and blisters leaking some strange, dark fluid. It was not blood. Her short-ragged breaths betrayed how close she was to death. He said a short prayer and then moved on; his current appointment could wait for no being.

Walking quickly, he hung his head in shame at what had become of his beloved home. Kafka Heights was one of Coruscant's wealthiest districts. It was also one of the few districts where one could look up and see the sky from its lowest level and was also home to the galaxy's wealthiest banks.

To be frank, the banks only had some 20,000 or so clients spread out across the entire galaxy. His own bank, Inshar Banking Co, was the latest addition but not the least. He had capitalized on the new class of imperial elites that rose with the empire, and when it fell, he conveniently had a large number of seized credits to loan the new republic for its bacta war. When Thrawn fell and the imperial remnants stopped contacting him altogether, it was all too easy to turn his business towards the light again and join the new wave of democracy! How exciting!

Or that's how he would have felt, if the New Republic wasn't destitute. “Say what you want about the Empire, but they always paid their debts.” he grumbled as he slowly walked along thinking about his latest meeting with the Secretary Ma’Dui. Who gleefully informed him that he would finally be repaid, in seized goods from imperial warlords.

“Surely as one of the foremost bankers of Coruscant, overseeing the auction process should bring your bank, and the republic, to quit the profit.” Her smile had been bright and wide. A fool might have believed it.

When he instead suggested they sell their own loot and give him credits instead, Ma’Dui regretfully informed him of the new emergency measure to extend all loans and credits given to the new republic. Of course, what went unsaid was that they expected him to use his underworld contacts to make the most of the agreement. Hence the need for an intermediary.

His problem was only this. Why even bother? As he pondered this, he finally reached the door of his own bank. Relatively modest compared to the towering sky hulks around him. It was the first 5 floors of a 150-floor building, the lobby was actually a small bar, with the far back room acting as an office to conduct business.

Of course, Inshar banking offered completely automated and interactive banking services accessible from home. Since there was no real reason for anyone to actually come to the physical bank, he figured he could do whatever with the space.

And it so happens that the choice was popular amongst his clientele. Currently the bar was occupied by his mercenaries. They exchanged a few words in Trandoshan before the hunters finished their drinks and rose to leave. They would take control of the cargo he was to be given.

3 BFF-1 bulk freighters filled with seized weapons and armor from imperial garrisons. He was told that the alliance had no use for the massive amounts of weapons and munitions lie. They were in such a secure position they could give away three star freighters full of equipment lie. Further, they also did not need the bulk freighters themselves, and were happy to give them to him, lie. Based on the manifest he had folded in his robes; you could equip an entire dreadnought and still have a freighter full. Surely New Republic regiments could do something with the equipment he thought this to himself as he entered the elevator to his own office.

When he finally reached his office on the 5th floor, he dropped the suitcase he had been carrying and picked up the data pad on his desk. A single message, received weeks ago, remained on the pad.

“In the shade of the midnight sun, all are unworthy.”

He took the data pad and broke it over his knee. Imperial spies never used the same code twice. Whoever was captured would likely give their life for this warning. Of course, the first thing he did was send out his own message, to every spy he still had contact with.

“They know”

At least the warning signaled that none of his compatriots had truly turned traitor. Unfortunately, no one could hold out from torture for long. And as virtuous as the new republic was, if there was any chance that they understood who it was they captured, he had to destroy any connections he had left to the Empire. His entire life in this new galaxy depended on his ability to set everything ablaze.

He reached into his desk and grabbed the blaster that was hidden there. He returned down the stairs and flashed his greatest smile at the Twi’lek girl behind the bar. “A shot of the Liannian brandy” he did his best to eliminate the fear from his voice.

He always hated this part.

“Are you sure sir? It would be the last shot.” Not for the first time did the girl give him a seductive look as she did her best to appear pitiful.

“Of course,” his voice cracked, but the Twi'lek paid it no mind as she reached under and retrieved his favorite drink. Ghobbers, a poor man's spirit, was a common brand on his homeworld and his only connection to the planet.

“All yours” she gave him a knowing look as she slid the drink over to him while trying her best to be seductive. As she leaned over the bar, he had a clear view of everything. She was young, beautiful, and more than willing. He knew she was not a spy. He knew she knew nothing of his actual work. He knew she was innocent. So sweet and innocent. He knew that she had liked him the moment they met. So, when he raised his blaster to do what needed to be done, he hesitated just long enough for her eyes to go wide and a barely audible “why” escaped those beautiful lips. He fired, picked up the drink and downed it in one gulp.

He turned and walked over to the front of his shop and activated the security system. He also activated the closed sign, a signal to his other associates. Not for the first time did he wonder what it was all for.

As he walked down the abandoned streets of Kafka, he plastered the fake smile onto his lips as hit heart fell into a familiar tune.

“For the Fallen.”