Commodore Darian Valtherion stood before the massive viewport of his private office aboard the Imperius, his personal Imperial-II Star Destroyer flagship. The cold void of space stretched before him, trying to notice the incoming Chimaera. At the same time, the massive bulk of Iskandor's shipyard ring hung behind his vessel, illuminated by the system's twin suns. Its skeletal frameworks were always alive with the fire of welding torches and the glow of maneuvering thrusters, flying repair droids, working ceaselessly to work on any ship that was docked in its bays or the new vessels they were building. It was Iskandor's jewel. His property... The power he would claim once his Father was removed.
But now, with the arrival of Grand Admiral Pellaeon, everything was shifting—faster than a TIE Defender at full throttle and far less predictably. He couldn't help but ponder why the old Admiral had come here. Why now? He should be already dead... Why wasn't he finally giving up and going to sleep like all these old Imperial codgers, still clinging to life? It was a new era... It should be his era.
Darian's jaw clenched as he turned away from the viewport, his boots clicking against the polished deck of his flagship as he walked back toward the middle of the room. The holotable in the center of his quarters hummed to life at his approach, its display a chaotic web of crimson sigils and scrolling data. It included all fleet deployments, intercepted comms, and the damning absence of his Father's usual security lapses. It pointed towards that he was behind this all... inviting the Admiral here, right at this moment, just when his exiled brother also decided to come back. Nothing about the summons or Kael's reappearance made sense to him.
Darian feared that he had just swallowed the bait in intercepting Kael... He knew that his Father had been content to play the long game, to let Darian maneuver, to test his ambition and resolve. His resources... But... Why invite a Grand Admiral to Iskandor? This was just their family's natural way of nurturing the best successor...
Unless his Father had learned of it!
The thought flashed through his mind like a vibroblade between his ribs, making him take a sharp breath. He exhaled painfully and forced himself to focus. He had to adapt, anticipate, and control the situation. His family hated the Jedi, no matter which side they took... But, since Kael's gift materialized and he left the family, he became curious. He secretly studied... And then, he began searching... and he found them. No, they found him, striking a deal with these... Dark Jedi. Was it what made his Father intervene? Did he learn about it? But how?
A quiet chime interrupted his thoughts. The display flickered, revealing the gaunt, razor-edged visage of Commander Varik, his most trusted officer. The old man's cybernetic left eye—a trophy from the Battle of Jakku—glowed faintly as it processed data.
"Sir," Varik said, his voice as dry as a desert corpse. A few times, Darian wanted to ask him if he had any feelings, but he never got around to them. "Admiral Pellaeon's ship has made contact. Escorts are forming around her. ETA, fifteen minutes."
"Were we the first?" Darian nodded, waiting for his Answer.
"Yes. No other ship answered as fast as we did, not even your Father's."
"Where is the Judicator?" He asked about his Father's ship.
"In its docking spot within the ring," Varik hesitated—a fractional pause that would've been imperceptible to anyone but Darian. "Your Father has ordered all ships to hold position. The Admiral is going to dock next to it while they meet aboard the station. Your Father's shuttle is already coming up from the surface."
"Not good..." Darian's fingers curled into a fist, his neural interface flaring with a spike of irritation that he ruthlessly suppressed. "Keep our officers on high alert. Pellaeon will expect discipline. We give him nothing to question and make sure our troops are there to welcome him when he comes onboard of Iskandor's Pride."
"Understood." Varik inclined his head. "And your… other arrangements?"
"..." Without saying anything at first, his face crunching up a little. The Sith, these Dark Jedi, were gone already... but not all of them. "I will instruct them personally." It wasn't much anyway; there were only two people, the woman named Vestara's followers. According to their deal, they remained behind to help him organize a proper change in leadership, using their gifts to make sure everyone would fall in line with his ruling after his Father was out of the picture.
Soon, the transmission cut out. Alone again, Darian's gaze drifted to the unmarked console embedded in the far right end of the wall—its surface matte black, its access ports locked to his implant's frequency. If his Father learned about the Jedi... If he did, he would have called Kael back because of it. It was making sense. There was a trap being set for him, and he was sure of it. But... Maybe intercepting Kael wasn't a trap he couldn't utilize. He already had a new idea of how to use his little brother to maneuver out of his Father's machinations.
The only thing he missed was that even his Father was in the dark why the Grand Admiral had come to visit him... Oblivious that his eldest son was drawing up connections that simply didn't exist in the first place.
...
....
...
The humming of the station's environmental systems was almost meditative in the temporary holding cells where our group was kept like back in the Jedi Temples. The conference room was within one of many auxiliary chambers tucked deep into the outer service ring of Iskandor's Pride.
But it wasn't easy to concentrate and meditate while we were inside, waiting for my brother to come back for us or make a decision. Whatever was happening caught him off-guard, which, honestly speaking, was probably the guidance of the Force. It was too big of a coincidence. Looking to my left, I watched as HK-O1 stood near the door, perfectly still, his red photoreceptors pulsing softly, probably doing something. Maybe hacking the door release. Or just imagining how to kill his way out of here.
Then, I felt something that made me furrow my brows.
"Mhm," Master hummed while leaning against the wall with arms folded, watching me. "You feel it, too."
"Yes," I answered while I gave a short nod. "Two beings... It was faint, and they came out for only a brief flash. They are trying to mask themselves… And they are doing an excellent job of it."
"Yep," Master Katarn grunted, pulling a small calibration tool from his belt and absently turning it in his fingers. "I also felt one of them pass by, two corridors down. The way it felt was different from those Sith I tangled with in my days. It wasn't artificial like Dessant's toys, but definitely not some local cultist with a red glowstick. These had the feeling of proper training, in control of their gifts."
"Sith, huh?" Vila muttered, licking her lips, probably excited to find out if they were like how the stories talked about them in the archives. "Are we sure it's just two?" she asked. "If they're hiding, that can mean there are more than two. Maybe they are bait because if you felt them, they felt you, too. It is a tactic I am pretty familiar with."
"Yes, that is possible," Master agreed while he pushed off the wall. "But we are on the right track at least. So, we flush them out before they can signal anyone for backup."
Finally, hearing that there should be action soon, HK-O1 tilted his head with a soft whirr.
[Statement: I propose we extract their spinal columns and use them as decorative antennae. Efficient and appropriately intimidating to thwart any further ambushes. Addendum: It could also work as a shock]
"No spines. If we get into a fight, try to not kill them, okay?" I said, half-smiling despite the tension, "We want to capture them to find the rest."
"Capturing a Sith is not an easy task." Master Kyle gave a chuckle, then stopped, turning serious, "But seriously, we shouldn't wait. The fact that they are moving is probably a sign that they also felt the sudden changes. My hunch is that something happened that had thrown Kael's family into disarray, disturbing the schemes of multiple parties."
"That is my conclusion, too." Master agreed, nodding his head, "If Darian's the one working with them, then they're probably lying low, helping him out from the shadows. But Vestara's people are not stupid, and they will escape if they feel the situation is too hot for them to stay."
"That's why you don't make deals with the Sith," Vila added sarcastically. "They aren't the type to keep to their promises, aren't they."
"Yeah," I muttered, knowing that those who followed the Dark Side are usually more self-centered and place their own gains and well-being above the others. So, no matter what my brother offered or threatened them with... He would be left behind, given the situation."
"Let's go!" Ben looked at us. "We don't have much time."
"Yes," I nodded as I straightened, blinking my eyes for a moment. Right. Here's what I think. We move quietly," I began explaining. "We split the station into quadrants, and we constantly monitor for movement in the Force. If we get even a flicker of something off, we triangulate."
HK-O1 raised a hand at once while I spoke.
[Cautionary suggestion: Perhaps we should not split up. Organic Jedi have a history of being picked off one by one during such investigations.]
"He's not wrong," Vila muttered.
"The station is... massive... We need to cover as much as we can." I muttered as I looked at my Master, who was already next to Master Katarn, who was working on opening the door to our 'cell.'
"This time, HK is right." He smiled at me. "We stay together. Silent. No lightsabers unless absolutely necessary. If we encounter others, we will use the Force to influence their minds to ignore us. If we find our Sith, we corner them; we capture, not kill. We want answers." He added, directly gazing at HK.
"Yes, Master," I nodded, exchanging a glance with Vila. "And if they strike first?"
"Then we strike back harder," Kyle said without a pause. His tone was nonchalant, but I could feel the heat beneath it. No matter how much experience Master Katarn had raked up throughout his life... He was still a warrior, excited by the thought of combat.
HK-O1 probably noticed it, too, as its servos clicked eagerly.
[Anticipatory declaration: I have entered combat mode. My targeting subroutines are experiencing... joy.]
"Same," Vila smiled and clipped her sabers to her belt, eyes scanning the door that was soon opened up by her Master. "I know how predators track their prey and how prey thinks when it wants to remain hidden," she said, nodding toward the empty corridor before us. "I think... I can track them down even without the Force."
"And if we're lucky," I muttered, stepping outside, looking around both ways, recalling my memories as to where we were precisely, "they'll be exactly where we want them."
[Question: Do we know where we want them?]
"No," Master Katarn answered, stepping outside and smiling behind his beard. "But the Force will tell us."
[Statement: I prefer proper battle plans. The Jedi and their trickery are always hardly precise or calculable methods. Their utilization is the antithesis of my kind.]
"I thought you were already used to it, being as old as you are?" Vila joked as we made our way down to the left, following our feelings in the Force.
[Answer: Maybe. But even my damaged memories tell me that working alongside Jedi tends to leave me in shambles and turned off, just to reappear centuries later. Addendum: It is comparable to how you meatbags wake up after a night of drinking, not remembering how you get to where you are... or who you are.]
"Don't worry," I chuckled, looking at his head, "This time around, maybe it will be different~!"
[Resignated Answer: No Master Meatbag... It won't.]