Kal "Jag" Jackson's Story

Jag nodded, "Well I'm sorry this happened to you, I'd say I can could relate but I don't want to lie by saying something cheesy like, I know what your going through." He said offering a smile. But if you ever need someone with a good shot I'd be happy to help you." He said with a sly smile.

Jag waved and watched the man leave. He placed some money on the table to pay for his burger and grabbed his stuff as he walked upstairs to go find Chek hopefully in the mysterious room 322 on the third floor.

A large group walked near Wing City's government district it was clear they were walking toward the TNG offices. Orthus Fells had set up a diplomatic meeting with the TNG unknown to him he would never arrive. Beside him strode a shorter man, those familiar with gambits with knew him as Chek the local security guard by there but those who knew him closer knew that was just a side job. Now that Gambit's was close he could fully donate all his time to working as the Zar Republic's intelligence Minister. Around them men wore light jetpacks and DC-15 Carbines faces hidden by helmets. They were wary there were too many places for ambush street corners and balconies seemed to be everywhere. Jag stood on top of a roof with two scout watching the approach. Everything seemed normal to him.

The first shot hit Orthus clear in the head and he fell limp to the ground the second hit check in the stomach and he fell to the ground. The one day I choose not to wear armor....He thought grimly as he pressed his hands to the wound.

All of the guards looked around with rifles raised one spoke into a comm, "The Senator and Intelligence Minister are down we need immediate evac! He shouted as the bodies were dragged into a door way. Jag took to the sky along with 4 others jet packs armed as the hunted for the killer. "Try and get a trajectory on that shot!" he shouted.

Jag gave up looking and landed toward the ground. "You two go find commander Wolf get on his shuttle and get off Terra!" He shouted. and the soldiers took off. Jag walked over to Sos. "Ok we will follow you we need to get off world fast!" You two take the bodies keep the minister stable. Is the Senator wounded too?" He asked.

The medic shook his head. "DAMN!" Shouted Jag as he slung Orthus' lifeless body over his shoulders. "Lead the way green man!" He said.

"No we won't." Jag said and Chuckled the comment. The others followed him. "Will that thing fly?" He asked as he stopped, "And more will it get us through that battle up there?" He asked with a look of concern knowing that war still was being waged above Terra. Chek had turned a sickly green, he started to cough. "Bloody hell was I shot?!?" he shouted weakly.

"Well probably the body." Jag said and maybe our armor. "Chek that uniforms going to have to be left here. " Jag said chuckling slightly as they removed it and tossed it off into a corner then followed him up the ramp. Jag placed the body in one of the said hidey holes along with his armor. Then helped place Chek in the med bay. "Alright lets go I have a bad feeling about this-" As he said this there was a sound of an explosion as Sullen Marines in Powered armor stormed the garage.

"Your surrounded come out with your hands in the air!" Came a clearly audio projected voice.

A few minutes after Sos, had descended the ramp of his ship another man exited the same ship. He wore his armor and had a blaster and jetpack attached to his back. He wore no helmet today though. It had been a few months since he had fled Terra and was happy to find refuge with the smuggler.

As he walked toward the crowd he noticed Sos weaving through the crowd, though at this point he was completely oblivious of the sith ship and the sith wandering in the crowd.

"Hey Green Man! Wait up will you?!?" Kal shouted mockingly over the Crowd.

Sosrioser turns to the voice as he looks at Kal, "Right you are with me." he says nervously as he as he waits for him impatiently. Once he catches up he looks at him.

"We got trouble...Sith." he hisses glancing at the ship, "And right now I really, really don't wanna be caught by them or the Republic, so can ya help me Kal?" he mutters to him.

"Please..." he begs him as he runs a hand through his white hair trying to remain calm,

Darth Xalgan waited in the spaceport. He paced across the hangar like a prowling tiger, steel boots clanging menacingly on the metal grates. A dark cape flowed behind him and flourished as he turned directions.

“Incompetent Terrans…” the Sith hissed through his respirator.

“Cheer up, my lord.” Xalgan’s twi’lek companion replied. “I’m sure the ship will be all fixed up before too long.”

Vette watched Xalgan stew in his irritation. She placed her hands on her hips, fingers drumming on the hilts of her blasters, and kept an eye on the hangar door. Though she trusted his instincts, it wouldn’t do for a threat to sneak up on them while he was distracted.

“We can hardly spare more time here than we already have, Vette.” Xalgan growled, dark side energy churning around him. “We must return to Imperial space with all speed. I have been gone from my station for far too long.”

Admiral Steele was making his way through the spaceport, a very stern look about on his face, as he was flanked on either side by Aschen marines, each wearing their signature black BDU uniforms, with armored gear worn over them.

"Sir, your Condor will be arriving, shortly to take you back to your ship." The Marine sergeant reported. "Command has stared that it is of utmost importance that you return to Imperial space with all due haste." The Sergeant added, as the group rounded a corner.

Rythmic footfalls filled the hangar that Darth Xalgan was pacing about in. The doors opened up in the opposite side of the large bay, and a formation of six soldiers, in clearly identifiable Aschen uniforms could be seen. They clasped their disruptor rifles tightly, as they maintained their formation around a stern looking man, in a dark grey, and blue uniform.

They stopped about a hundred feet away, near an empty landing pad. Each Marine took in the sights all around them, and they fanned out around various crates, and equipment to take defensible positions in the event of a fight. Each soldier moved with the discipline that betrayed years of training, while the older man stared out the hangar into the skyline before him, then he checked his watch.

Shrknar glanced over his shoulder at the self-important Admiral Steele, who was just across the promenade. His nostril slits flared open, accompanied by a hissing exhalation of machine-assisted breath. The denizens of this world were... strange.

He had other things to attend to, however. Not to be dissuaded from his mission, he set out for Gambit's Bar to meet with his Terran contact.

"We've got company, my lord." Vette said, hand resting on her blaster and eyes trained on the soldiers.

"Calm yourself, Vette." Xalgan hissed, respirator sighing. "They're only Aschen, and if they were looking for a fight... they would have brought more men."

The twi'lek nodded, but she remained vigilant. Xalgan likewise ceased his mad pacing, straightened his back, and calmed his breath. Control. He thought. I am a Sith, not a wild animal. Strength, yet peace. Power, yet wisdom.

Xalgan watched the aschen soldiers through the dark lenses of his helmet. Though he doubted any malice on their part, he had heard the rumors, and so he opened himself to the ebb and flow in the Force to read their intentions. He was confident he could wipe out the entire unit in the space of six seconds if he needed to, but he would not be caught unawares.

Senseless violence was also unbecoming of a Darth.

The Admiral kept his eyes on his surroundings, and his Marines followed suit. Several eyes were on the Twi’ilek, and several shrill whines emanated from the Aschen group, as thumbs flicked across power switches, and several holographic sights, that weren’t there previously had flickered to life. Several Aschen soldiers powered their disruptor rifles, and Admiral Steele quickly took notice.

“Sergeant.” Steele said calmly. “We’re not here for a firefight.”

The Marine sergeant nodded, but cast his second nod in the direction of the Darth and his accomplice.

“They’re watching us, the Xeno has her hand on her weapon.” The Marine whispered.

Their intent was clouded by their hatred of this place, their Xenophobia, but nothing malevolent surfaced, the Admiral kept his own thoughts closely guarded, but he seemed to be waiting for something.

Darth Xalgan sneered beneath his helmet.

"Vette..." He said, loud enough for the marines to hear him. "I do believe that these aschen are afraid of you. How quaint. I can feel their hate... their disdain. They would be wise to keep their guards up. Few have seen a Darth firsthand and lived to tell the tale. I am not without mercy, however, and I find the wasted lives of perfectly good soldiers to be distasteful."

"Gee..." Vette rolled her eyes and crossed her arms. "How kind of you. You are, by far, the nicest evil guy I know."

The gathered Aschen soldiers watched Darth Xalgan closely, his words did not fall on deaf ears, though, and more than one Marine had their eyes affixed to him.

The Marine sergeant closest to Steele slowly leaned over, and began to whisper.

"Et Xeno contumeliam nobis."

"Ego animadvertit" Steele replied.

He looked back out to the landing pad, as the shrill whine of an Aschen Empire Condor VTOL troop transport began to fill the inside, a moment later, the angular, imposing form of the Aschen transport craft could be seen as it carefully maneuvered into the hangar bay, touching down delicately on the landing pad.

Steam hissed from release vents near the landing gear, and the rear deployment ramp opened as the engines began to die down.

Two Adepts of war emerged, clad in a deep black armor, towering at nearly ten feet in height. Their boots made a dull thuink against the metal plates of the landing pad, and they cradled their weapons, twenty-two millimeter heavy magnetron rifles, an Aschen designed coilgun designed to accelerate a hyper-dense projectile at high velocities.

Steele simply cast a sidelong glance at Xalgan, and spoke to his sergeant loud enough to hear.

"We have nothing to fear, Sergeant, these... Sith would be foolish to challenge us." Steele said, huffing. "Afterall, the last Sith lord to challenge the might of the Aschen Empire paid for it dearly, as we massacred her armies, and set fire to her planets."

"Ad Victoriam." The Adept of war called out, saluting Steele briskly.

"Afterall, our military might is without equal. Have you seen a Star Destroyer go up against a Reverence, Sergeant? It was a... short battle." Steele added, starting towards the ramp.

In a fitting moment of dramatic irony, another ship pulled into the hangar and touched down several meters from Darth Xalgan. A Fury-class Interceptor lowered its ramp, and a dark-clad robed figure stepped out onto the hangar. A fully enclosed helmet, much like a fencing mask, and a crimson hood shrouded their face.

"It is natural for the predator to quell the weakest of the flock." Xalgan replied as the figure approached him. "And so the herd is made stronger for it. The wolves should be wary, however, of challenging the alpha. They have ascended to their station for a reason, whether through guile or strength, and so would be a more... fitting adversary."

"Master," the figure knelt - a woman by her voice. "Your ship has been repaired and refueled. Are these people troubling you? Do you require me to dispose of them?"

"No, Lady Wilsaam." Xalgan placed a hand on her shoulder. "That will not be necessary. Come, let us return to the Gravestone. I am sure the rest of the Alliance must be fraught with worry over my absence."