Rain. The kind of rain that pours on for days and days covered the expansive underworld of 1313. This was a city so bleak, its walls had never seen sunlight. Deep beneath the reaches of Coruscant lay this abandoned, cluttered, waste of space. It breathed life into the most foul beings on the planet, and here in the depths where they called home, they flourished. Today was about an average day here. The small doctors’ clinic that Rinne stayed entrenched in had been all but abandoned by clientele today… and for good reason. This city didn’t have any way of getting natural rain. If it was raining here, it meant that a pipe had burst somewhere beneath Coruscant. If the denizens of 1313 were lucky, it’d be a recycled water plant. However, more often than not, they were treated to the horrid odor of a sewage mane which had corrupted after decades of neglect. This time appeared to be the latter, as a noxious smell covered the already rotting fumes of the literal junk heap. This rain was now covering the city in something like a fog. The smell that accompanied it had stayed since the rupture happened, three days ago. It was also why four men stayed put inside a small medical clinic.

The clinic was rough, to say the least. A rusty-looking chair sat firmly in the center of the room. Above it hung a light that was missing two of the six bulbs, and looked to have seen better days. The walls had trace amounts of blood on them, and the floors appeared to be covered in a dark residue. Despite all these blatant health-code violations there were a few treasured objects hung about the walls. Limbs. Most of them appeared to be robotic in nature. They were all shapes and sizes, displayed on a wall the way a classic speeder or naked Twi’lek poster would be hung on the wall of a teenaged boy. They were treasure, and each were worth a kings’ ransom down in these depths. Through the clinics’ only window, one could see those who were unlucky enough to have jobs where being outside was required. The city prostitutes were out in full force. Rain would not stop these women. Most of them had outstanding debts to pay off. Even more of them were slaves. A few of the eyes in the room watched them as they meandered about the corner like stray cats. They did their best to stay underneath awnings; a smelly whore would sell about as well as a rank fish. But down here, men would eat just about anything.

A single refrigerator had kept all four occupants fed for three days. Now, there was only idle chatter in the room, these men who had stayed for days were running out of conversation pieces. Almost everything had been exhausted. One particularly loud Rodian was complaining almost incessantly. “At least let us get a couple a’ whores. Even a Twi’lek will do, I just need something” Rabble was starting to form abound two of the three others. It appeared that the group was almost in agreement. All save for one man. “No. Whores don’t have the money to be in my shop, and if they do, it’s to fix the kinds of problems you don’t want to find on your own bodies.” He was a shaggy man. Human from the looks of it. His long tattered hair looked more like the scraggly mane of a feral dog, than that of a man. His voice was calm, and firm, and a large puff of smoke escaped his lips as he spoke; a death-stick clutched firmly in his left hand. The men were getting riled they needed something to escape the fact that they had been trapped in a small box of a room for the last few days. Beer cans were everywhere, other assorted trash littered the ground, shelves, and tables of the office. Never was this place clean, but Rinne could never remember it being so dirty.

Nearest the other men, a Mon Calamari spoke next. His words cut the air like a knife, but his voice seemed the most anxious of the men. “How about a game of Dejarik? We’ve got stuff, we can bet it all.” There was a cringe that shot through Rinne’s face. How he hated that forsaken game. In the parlor, where many of these men had been sleeping, a Dejarik table had been installed many years ago. At the time, Rinne had loved it, but the more he played the more these men wanted to play for keeps. Now, in three days of pure boredom, the stakes would be high. Of course, Rinne would lose. He always lost. He also had the least to bet with. These men, even if they risked it all, would never go after his shop or limbs though. They were simpletons, seeing more use in a blaster or whore than a replacement limb or roof above their heads. Before the game started, a voice appeared in Rinne’s head. The sensation was much like that of a nail getting struck by a hammer. “ Go for it. Bet you'd like to feel like a winner today, don't you, Rinne....? Go all in on the last turn. Trust me.” The game would play into the night. The rain too would stop upon nearing completion of the game. A pack of death-sticks would be almost exhausted by the time the final round appeared…

The Calamari held an expression of anger and fear on his face. The Rodian and human had him cornered. There was only one tactic he could use in such a scenario. “I’m all in, and I raise three grand more!” Raises in Dejarik were not the same as in poker or black-jack. Anyone who wanted to win not only had to gamble a presumed equal amount, but also beat the raise. The person to go last would have to bet something generally perceived as a metric fuck ton of value. Thankfully Rinne was next. Slowly he pushed all of his chips into the center, and then left the table to go to his office desk. Opening a small drawer revealed a picture of a dainty tagruta woman. She was scantily clad. There was a message on the picture sealed with a kiss. “This is Copina. She’s a dancer at the emerald palace. On the back of this picture is her number. I’ll give her a call and set her up for the night with whoever wins… but it’ll be me.” From his pocket, Rinne pulled out a nearly crumpled pack of death sticks. From the metal table, he struck a match and lit one of the last ones. The smoke quickly engulfed much of the table, turning the holograms slightly foggy. Next came the human. He looked displeased that he was actually about to throw into this pot, but it was the only way to keep playing, and to not lose his money. A small key was produced, as the human smashed it down into the table. “I’ll be winning anyways, I’m not even mad.”

The human was one of the only people to leave this city on a regular basis. A smuggler for the Vanguard, one who’d surprisingly done well at it. He piloted a ship known only as the Mantis. A powerful, quick ship that had bested the new council several times. It was a galaxy-class smuggling ship. To bet this would generally mean that the Rodian would be screwed. There was almost no way he could outbet this item, therefor he’d lose. The Rodian was prepared however, from beneath his coat came a small silver object. It was just large enough for his hands, and he handled it with the utmost care. Everyone knew what this was… a saber. Here of all places a lightsaber had found its way. “All bets are in. Play your last move.” There was no voice in his head advising him this time. Rinne played the best move he could. In just 30 seconds his life would change. “All opponents defeated, winner… Rinne Korik.” There was a look of envy, jealousy, hatred, on all of the players. But the items were quickly scooped up by the young twenty-something, who pocketed his new possessions. Whether it was through the force, or through displeasure, all three of the other men would soon leave the shack. Zinis had helped him win that game… but why, and what was with the telepathy?

---

A month had passed since that game. There were, on occasion, transmissions from Zinis. Sometimes they were simple things, such as fixing an engine to the Mantis, but on this day it was something completely different. The sensation no longer felt like getting hit with a hammer. Now it was more subtle, like a whisper in Rinne’s ear. “Ever heard of Iego? I'd like you to pay it a visit, in exchange for the spoils of that game. You need to leave 1313.”Just like that, transmissions stopped. It was as if Zinis had just popped into Rinne’s head for a spell, and left him with little more than he’d come with. Rinne had never left 1313, though he knew how to fly. This vast underground city housed several skyports. Perhaps now was the day. The ship had been stocked with rations, and the engines had been fixed. It was an interesting task; one that both surprised and drove Rinne, who loved challenges. If anything, this was little more than an excuse to test Rinne’s mettle. The male climbed aboard his ship, and had the vehicle chart a course for Iego. Even though most ships wouldn’t have it in their memories, this was a smuggler vessel. It was made with using shortcuts in mind. It was an odd feeling seeing the expanse that was Coruscant. Never seeing the surface had left the male to dream of what it must look like above. Strangely, it looked little different than 1313, just more colorful. If one listened closely, they could probably hear Rinne’s dreams crashing. Even more strange was seeing space, but for the next week Rinne would get used to it. The only other Transmission Rinne would receive told him to use the lightsaber, just get accustomed to it. And he did, by fixing pipes in the Mantis, or cutting holes to access ports. The ship was junk, there was no better word for it.

In exactly one week, the ship lie adrift amongst a sea of moons and gasses. The giant planet Iego lie before him. From here, Rinne had no clue where to go. He simply steered the ship the way he felt. It was almost like being a puppet. Letting his emotions guide him till his ship steered through wreckage, and finally onto a small moon that appeared to have forest and water. This, as the ship would tell him, was the moon Dathim. Why he was here, or what his purpose here was unknown. Though the moment the ship touched to earth, Rinne felt the presence of Zinis once more “Wait. Um, you arrived faster than I thought you would." The disembodied voice paused, almost as if his message ended there, but then betrayed the notion with a hearty chuckle. "You’re the first here, but expect more in time. You have a bigger role than you think.” This cryptic bullshit again. It wasn’t as if Rinne had much of a life left in 1313, and while the clinic might suffer for him leaving, perhaps the fresh air would be good for a change…

---

Then it hit.

~BAAAAAAAAAAAM~

The ship crashed into the solid earth with a loud thud. Clearly the landing mechanism had been busted by impact, it was obvious to Rinne as his body was hurled through the air and tossed about the cabin. The shock from the impact left the male’s body sprawled out against the corner of the cockpit. Blood trickled from his head, and his left arm might be out of socket. Through blurry, bloody, vision Rinne focused his thoughts on the wounds he could feel. A strange glow emanated from his fingers, and the blood stopped pouring from his head, about the same time his arm was nestled back into socket. Slowly, the man stood. He had a fair bit of weaponry, and some food… it might last him about a week on this planet but with broken landing gear and, God knows what else, wrong with the ship he’d more likely die out in this alien world.

Meandering about the cabin, Rinne pulled the lever that lowered down the exit ramp. Through some exhaust vents in the interior of the ship, black smoke could be seen wafting up. More than likely this was from a turbine, motor, or lift overheating somewhere in the bowls of the ship. Sure, he could fix it, with enough parts and knowhow, but time would be the key to it all. Finally Rinne reached the last step of the gangplank, it was surreal. Never before had Rinne been on an alien world. Never before had he seen anything so beautiful, so foreign. There were trees here as large as skyscrapers. The ground was covered in grass softer than any carpet, and the air was… clean. 1313 couldn’t even begin to compare to this and with the warm glow of gasses around the planet, one would generally assume it was the “daytime” cycle of this planet. But amidst all this vastness, it would be easy to feel alone.

Smoke from the exhaust was now starting to tower over the thick green layer of canopy. It would only be dangerous at night, should there be predators here that’s more than likely the time they’d strike. Iego’s moon was beautiful, whatever this planet was, Rinne might not feel too badly staying here for long.

It had been decades since Enceri had returned to the planet of her birth, leaving assumedly for the last time after the memorial service of her parents. Now here she was again, only this time she was here to claim what was hers.

The freighter the group of Mandalorians had acquired for their current task was inconspicuous amongst the ragged ships of the yard it had landed next to. While thirty armed Mercenaries raised a few eyebrows, the most attention grabbing thing was the heavily modified armor that the Sith Lord was wearing, though few said anything beyond an impressed whistle or an offering of condolences to the young woman. When they came time to check with one of the officials of the shipyard, so as to prevent any more unnecessary attention, markings similar to those on her armor were covering the Mandallian's arms. As Enceri stood before the massive man, a great smile on her face, she swung her arms out to invite the potentially deadly embrace of her clansman. Laughing, he took the woman into his arms and lifted her off the ground as the two shared several moments together.

Patting his shoulder submissively, the Giant set the Sith Lord back down and let out another series of laughs. "Last time we saw each other it was you who was lifting me into your arms; that must have been fifty years ago."

"It's been far too long brother. Sometime soon we will have to settle the contest we started before, but today I have this collection of pansies to look after."

"That's disappointing, but whatever you're doing does seem important. Just remember not to ride them all too hard, not everyone can endure you like I can. But you need to make sure to come visit next year, Ijin's finally found someone who's willing to slum it for him and get married."

"Send the details to the number I gave you a few years back and I'll make sure to find someone worthy to replace me for a few days." With the small exchange between clansmen completed with a confirmation of contact information, the delayed squad of Mandalorians left the shipyard and split into two groups, one heading for a certain government office, one that apparently once housed the cloned reject that liked calling himself Mand'alor and currently held a few of those loyal to his memory, and the other heading towards a media station.

---

After taking in the sights around the city, relishing the chance to see Mandalore once again, Enceri came before a little rustic cantina. Since it was something that could be found on every backwater planet across the galaxy for the drunk to drown themselves in, the unofficial Mand'alor held no quam about destroying it and everyone inside. Understandably the heavily armed guards at the door–can't let just anyone in to see the boss–took issue with thirty people walking up to the door, but the moment their blasters raised they found a blade of light carving through their bodies. With the outer guards dispatched, a solemn "Go" scattered the escorting commandos around the building, all of them taking position around the assorted windows and planting charges on the back walls; none of this was likely to be necessary, but there was nothing wrong with taking precautions.

With a sudden movement, a heavy boot crashed through the front door, splintering the wood and shattering the glass. Once Enceri and two of her commandos entered the humble building, they traversed a short walkway before encountering another guard who had no doubt heard the destruction of the door and, as such, had his rifle readied when they rounded the corner. He only managed to fire one shot before an invisible hand lifted him off his feet and tossed his body into the tangible hands of the Sith. Instead of using her boot or any of her other limbs to break through the door separating her from the current Mand'alor–simply opening it normally wasn't an option–she used the newly acquired limbs of the door's guard, and, with the full motion of her body, flung him against the hard wood. The resulting sounds of snaps, crunches, and groans signified that a good number of things had been broken when those two had met at such force.

Now, with the way open, she and her two men strolled in casually; making sure to step over the body that now occupied the floor. In this room sat Loyalists to the long-dead Fett, whose names she, with her vast collective knowledge didn't know. Blasters were raised, demands of disarmament were raised, and a group of armed commandos were anxiously waiting to break through every possible entry they could make. This all ceased when, like the, finally unconscious and quiet guard, the blasters held by Fett's followers were ripped from their secure hands and cast upon the floor; only three people retained their weapons.

With a hand outstretched to one of her companions, Enceri now wished to show these men of the previous age who it was that was about to kill them. The companion, after reaching into a small pouch he had strapped to his side, retrieved a detailed mask and set it in his leader's hands. Donning the simple mask that could be recognized by every citizen of Mandalorian Space, she addressed her, soon to be dead, people.

"Mand'alor the Infinite has sent out her call; a call for the return to glory of her people and the end of any who would call us their enemies. My call has been spread for months now, and yet, here you are, getting drunk in the shithole my predecessor liked to call an office. Hopefully others will not be as foolish."

With the end of her statement, the choking officials were gunned down by Enceri's companions as her commlink began to rattle with the voices of the other squad. After a small confirmation of the situation of their end, a small crate was carried into the cantina and set down in the center of the room before being opened. Inside rested a large amount of explosives that were more than capable of destroying the building they were in. Once these explosives were properly primed, one of her commandos with a camera walked out in front of her as she addressed her people who were still alive.

The sound of an explosion could be heard off in the distance as a moment of static appeared on the screen before the signal was finally connected and the inside of a, somewhat ransacked, cantina was displayed across every screen possible. There, before the people's eyes, stood a striking figure in distinct gray armor who wore the mask of their traditional leader. "Mand'alor sends her call to all those who would claim to be Mandalorian. My call is simple and resolute, gather at my side brothers and sisters, so that we may make our way through the galaxy once more and remind them all who we are. Let my Crusade be that reminder, and let my Crusade be your ascension to glory!"

As the surrounding populace looked on as war was declared against the entire galaxy by someone who they had only heard of through whispered rumors, the person who made this declaration boarded her inconspicuous ship and began making her way to her fleet so as to securely assess the results of her expedition home.

---

"Enemy craft immobilized."

It was one thing for a ship to pass by Lego to use it as a shortcut around more popular routes, but to actually attempt to land on the moon of Dathim was an offense that would not be handled lightly. The cheap craft had managed to find its way through the dark and dangerous space that made up the entire space surrounding the planet, even breaking into the atmosphere without suffering so much as a visible scratch, not that you could tell on such an old thing. It was then that action became a necessity. With guns scattered throughout the forested world, hidden from even the sharpest of eyes, disabling the ship would be simple; what happened afterward would depend on what such a lost ship contained.

To prevent the loss of anything important that might be found inside, none of these guns were used to destroy the trespassing ship. A group of soldier's, several Mandalorians amongst them, were close enough to the ship's projected landing site to have a visual on it, and with this visual one of them raised their hand into the air and, with the power of the Solus Hive supporting him, he brought the ship down. There was no need for anything overly flashy or powerful, knowledge of the ship's inner workings, no matter how heavily modified it was, allowed for a simple manipulation of a few parts to cause the engine to fail; a piece of bent metal here, a stalled turbine there, and the fragile thing would drop. And drop it did, likely causing more damage to the ship and giving whoever was inside the opportunity to feel like one of those crash test dummies.

There was some air of disappointment amongst the Mandalorians present at not being able to open fire on the ship; they weren't unnaturally bloodthirsty, but defending an urban legend of a planet from non-existent intruders wasn't the most exciting task for a warrior. Even so, there was still a chance that someone survived and that meant there was the possibility that some amount of action, no matter how beaten and easily defeated their prey might be. Unfortunately, their enthusiasm was once again crushed by their Mandalore. "You will remain one hundred meters behind me, I wish to investigate the ship myself." Before the ship had even entered orbit of the planet, Solus had felt a change in the Force, Jedi. After the Piece finished descending to the ground, dozens of Killik emerged from the forest and gathered around him. "If the Kind are not able to handle this, you are to attack and kill everything you find at the crash site."

The Jedi had survived the crash, but that wouldn't make much of a difference when a horde of Killik washed over him. Jedi were one of the few things that actually infused the Sith with the passion one would expect from her title, the hate, the anger, all aimed at those who took something from her, and one of them had just decided to land in the middle of in the middle of her army.

Jenna woke up on the ship that was like smuggler HQ and always moving it was salvaged during the clone wars they had a whole flagship and various other vehicles stored inside it. something fell onto Jenna's head as various object fell around the room which even when Jenna was four still confused her as to what was happening. The door opened "Still clueless about the force I see." a figure said from the doorway "Master there is no force here but yours I can't even tip over a empty cup with the force or fight using a vibroblade let alone that damn laser sword of yours." The figure walked it a old twi'lek with a sith robe "It's cause you cannot feel the rage you had felt when your parents died the choking you did back then was marvelous but now your nothing." Jenna finally ticed the robe "Hey give me my robe back you over rebelous jedi!" She yelled the man just happened to obey reluctantly.


She went through her routine of showering walking her favorite kath hound and then meeting her father for breakfast.

"did you wash?" Her dad asked her looking slightly worried "I always do father and no I still have it." She said looking down she then heard a sudden blaster shot go off and looked up her father slumped over a figure wearing a black hood was directly behind him and dropped the blaster pistol and ran then jumped up onto the upper walkway which was twenty feet up Jenna drew her two blasters and started firing at the killer. The killer laughed and drew a lightsaber the red glow blocking and deflecting the blaster fire Jenna chased after the killer refusing to give up and took a elevator up to the second floor and Jenna whistled her cathhound came bounding after the intruder snarling and Jenna's mentor got in front of the person and drew his lightsaber the yellow glow lighting up his face the two clashed and the sith grabbed Jenna with the force and threw her at her mentor hitting the wall next to him she was hurt but got up and then nothing she had blacked out.



she woke to the corridor having been broken and she was laying in the middle of it all her mentor looked at her the sith dead across form Jenna "Don't let your anger control you like that again you almost blew the whole corridor apart with that repulse." He commented she however was still angry and mumbled "I will avenge you and crush them all father all of them. She got up and searched the sith and grabbed the lightsaber completely intent on learning to use it she saw a group of smugglars run around the corner they looked at her "What are you fools staring at search the ship find a acomplace check the escape pods and shuttles." they nodded and ran off then she found a hiperdrive map and found her target.


Jenna walked into her room and took a shower then grabbed her gear she had heard the planet's surface was almost jungle like so she grabbed her gear and took the rifle off her gun rack in her closet and trew on her sith robe since it was the only one she had she walked into the hanger a smugglar saluted her "All preped for flight." he said as she walked past him and borded her small fighter she checked everything on the ship all systems read green her astromech confirmed she however didn't trust the sith not to rig her ship so she told the astromech to engage the engines after she had exited the vehicle and so she got out and got to the minimal safe distance as the engines started and then the ship blew up she stood and watched as it was burning she drew her pistol and shot the man who had checked her ship "That's how I treat trators." she said then took his ship a old jedi fighter and took off it was a long flight but when she arrived at her destination she saw all the debre in the area and groaned.


she saw a small opening when her mentor contacted her on her comm system "Only a jedi master or a lucky fool could survive that come home." he demanded she however was focusing as hard as she could on finding a clear path through she was trying to use the force to help her navigate but to no avail so she dived in head first rolling and turning she was flying at a rediculous speed. she could actually feel the astroids and other debre until she hit the atmosphere then she pulled up and flew over what looked like a base the air seemed peacful until they opened fire she had dodged ground fire before but this was rediculous so she dropped down to a dangerously low altitude and took off full speed until she found a clearing then she landed and opened the cockpit and got out blasters at the ready she was near a lake so she filled up her bottle up and it began the filtering process the light on top was red so she walked towards the base but then turned slightly to circle around it.

The periodically dull drumming, aside from an intestine full of diligently working droids, was the most notable thing on the LAAT/i hovering in the outer rim. Jadeling had long grown accustomed to hearing the noise in place of sharp rappings of bare fingernails, and even came to prefer it after a time. She ceased drumming only to place her padded palms on a bank of consoles, feigning patience. And she feigned it poorly, seeing as the nearby astromech co-pilot whirred in response--either it meant to reassure her somehow, or it was growing as testy as she was. The pilot droid nearby was not as simple to distract--nothing short of the spacecraft exploding would distract it, she suspected.

Jadeling made it a point not to speak frivolously with artificial intelligence. She saw it as a sign of ailing mental health to pretend clicks and beeps were entire sentences worth of information (at least, when without a translator, as was the current case). However, should she have seen fit to talk to that droid, she would have wondered aloud how much longer their trip was going to take, how far they were from their destination, and whether it would be in poor taste to ask if she could find a more talkative replacement for him--for it. They were nowhere near Coruscant, she knew that much. She was in no hurry to return to the republic. After spending a week bloodying noses and leeching off of hospitality (these normally were kept to separate people, but not always) in the name of the law, Jadeling trekked back up onto the cliffs of the dismal mining planet, where she boarded her assigned ship. Her destination thereafter was not exactly something her crewmembers expected. Instead of a straight path across the expanse of space, she chose one that resembled a snake writhing through cobblestones. This dismayed the droids, as it went against logic, and they were programmed to rather appreciate logic. Yet still they followed orders, as they were also programmed not to take the words of an ARC trooper lightly. Said trooper thereafter sulked in her cabin, writing and sleeping and writing in her sleep, emerging only to peer at the stars and check on their progress.

And so it was that she said nothing to the robot that "spoke" with her, once more retreating to her room. It was a tidy place, hinting at habitation only via unkempt bed sheets and a select number of personal belongings here and there: a case of prized tehk'la blades, a folder of paperwork, and a dartboard hanging next to the bathroom compartment. She had removed her helmet two days ago, and it remained on her desk stalwartly. She could see her face reflected on its dark surface. Spotless. A thing of perfection, however small, gave her comfort.

"Hello there--"

A glint of silver sliced through the air the moment she whirled around, quivering and knocking against the opposite wall it then impaled. Without pause the hand that loosed the blade flew to her hip once more, this time drawing a pistol to hold at arm's length. "I recommend you come out, stowaway," she demanded after a time. "I wouldn't like to kill you."

"Oh, I think I would be dead already if that had got me. Now then, trooper, I suggest you don't waste any blaster shots on me. I mean you no harm."

Curious; she felt a minor migraine throbbing between her eyebrows, which caused her to lower her blaster a fraction. Her guest indeed could do her no harm even if he wished it, and she observed this when he made himself apparent--appearing out of nothing, but not quite materializing into something. Red of skin and large of horns, if she didn't know well enough to recognize his race she would call him an agent of hell. A symbiote of the dead world. It was a shame she didn't know how close her silly thought ventured to reality. 

The Togruta before her had a shivering outline and a faded silhouette, like a recorded message made to-scale. He was no taller than her, but broader. Thick, toned shoulders led up to a thick, toned neck, ending with a square-shaped face. His forehead gave him a look of sternness, but the crinkles around his blue eyes claim otherwise. White markings dotted his entire body--more of which she was seeing than she needed. She couldn't recall ever seeing a user of the force so sparsely dressed, and in such ratty clothes. They looked bloodied, burned, in stark contrast with his apparently healthy body; like he pilfered the clothes off a corpse. "What do you want of me, Jedi?" She inquired carefully. His lack of a presence could be a stupid magic trick meant to catch her off-guard, but Jadeling reassured herself that the ship was of good enough quality that alarms would be blaring should his physical body be elsewhere on her ship. Besides, she still had her hand on her blaster, her head ticking, and her eyes and ears open.

He faintly inhaled through his mouth, one hand over opposite his knuckles in front of his stomach. It was a gesture that suggests to her a familiarity with diplomacy. "I wish to know your business, trooper," he said, then elaborated when she cocked a brow sharply, "what you're doing here."

"There is a reason it is my business," she muttered. However, once she raised her chin to speak with the Jedi, an amicable smile was on her lips. It looked as if it were secured with glue and tape by a prepubescent child attempting collage, as her angled eyes didn't follow suit. "I've a report to hand back to Coruscant concerning my adventures in the outer rim, sir. But I am taking a side trip to see a friend in the area."

The Jedi considered this, adopting a more thoughtful posture than before, if possible. "A fellow trooper?"

"Yessir." There was a pause as the translucent Jedi digested this information. Jadeling refused to face away from him, so she backed away watchfully, reaching back to grab her helmet and slipping it over her face once more. Her tone became even more formal after that. "I hope I have been of use to you."

He flicked his fingers and absentmindedly nodded, but something soon dawned on his features. "Actually, I may seek to divert you from your mission." Her hand flew to her hip, her blaster was abruptly at the ready--the Jedi raised his palms to her as quickly as he could. "No, no--trooper, stand down."

Jadeling flinched, anxiety trickling down her veins, but she could not say why. Emitting a breathy snarl, she switched from offensive to defensive position, bending at the base of her spine as she secured her footing. "State your business, Jedi. Now."

He hesitated again. She hated that. "... I meant, I've a favor to ask of you. In exchange for information on that friend of yours. It might save us both some time." When she seemed unfazed, he continued. His gently shut eyelids gave him a grimness she disliked. "It is one of the troopers who was investigating a suspicious signal around Iego, correct?"

Jadeling straightened gradually. The Jedi knew what he was talking about after all. He knew where she was headed and why, and while that in itself made her wary, it formed a bridge she could not ignore.

---

Some droids were baffled by their next objective; on the moon of Iego, shipwrecks lined its surface like toppings on a Hutt dish. It would have been intimidating and discomforting, were they not top-of-the-line in each their respective generations. So, landing on the moon with the hobby of obliterating spacecrafts was a simple thing, albeit tiresome and seemingly inane. Thankfully, they wouldn't have to do even that. Their data stated that the planet is uncivilized and uninhabited, but their commanding trooper insisted that they would be met with hostility if they failed to take utmost precaution in their approach.

They will launch the smallest shuttle containing the only breathing thing on the ship, and pick her up once her business is done. That would be the most they could provide. Jadeling knew that the majority of droids on the ship were created for general maintenance--classes two and five. There were a handful of security droids on board as well, but to take them onto land would leave the ship severely lacking in defense. Besides, security droids were not built to fight an army. While some droids are able to operate the ship's big guns, that would do only menial damage and easily leaves them open for attack. 

At the risk of sounding incredibly generic, the trooper announced over the loudspeakers: "Activate sensor jammer."

---

"I fear I've gotten someone in a spot of trouble," the Togruta Jedi had said, as she inspected the damage she'd done to her wall. "I'd appreciate if you could, you know, rescue the damsel in distress. At the very least, he's causing sufficient distraction just by being down in the den of wolves."

---

Thruster usage was minimal. Power normally directed to shields was redirected to stealth. There was a fair amount of turmoil when the ship drew as close to the planet as it would get, and even further turmoil in the escape pod. She waited until she was precariously close to the ground before releasing the parachute. The sudden bloom of camouflage green still managed to catch onto some branches, but she was used to that. The Togruta had sent her to a decent spot. Trees were lower, she merely dropped out of the pod and suffered minimal strain upon meeting the ground.

And then Jadeling marched over to a tree and threw the fuck up.

"You read me?" she rasped after replacing her helmet. Her legs shivered like wriggling jelly, and her mouth still tasted of partial digestion. There was, unforgivingly, static on the other end, but she could make out acknowledgement in the form of infernal beeping. That would be good enough. "Stand-by. No, wait. Send off the messenger droid with the reports I'd written. Both sets of reports; confirmed slavery and suspected Sith activity. Set his course to Coruscant. Then you may stand-by. Oh, but have someone make me something to eat before I get back. Anything's fine. Alright. Don't blow up the ship, kids."

Suddenly having an organism to talk to amidst a week-long space trip had spoiled her, and she grimaced at how longwinded those orders were. She muted the static then, and inspected her surroundings. Who knows how long it would take the droid to reach Coruscant, and how long it would take for the council to take action after that? The trooper sighed through her nostrils. The blaster over her shoulder made it difficult to maneuver, but her senses were sharp enough to grant her a level of comfort. That Zinis guy must have swept the area this time, as there was no one here. Unless it was a trap. Ugh.

Regardless, the Togruta cryptically said she wouldn't be alone for long. Jadeling felt the chaingun warming in her hands as she adjusted its levels, and she began to move. The things she did for friendship.