"There is still much for you to learn, my apprentice. Though, you will not find this knowledge within this temple, nor its texts, nor meditation here." The echoed words of Jedi Master Ro Nuul matched the cadence of the tranquil temple gardens. Trees brought from all corners of the galaxy shaded the two figures from the bright orange glow of Yavin's sun. Ro Nuul was a tall Kel Dor, his wrinkled orange skin deepening his amused expression beneath a breathing apparatus and goggles. The cadence of his speech was slow and rhythmic, as if trying to prolong the time spent among the greenery. His hands remained clasped before him, as if still in meditation as they spoke.
His apprentice, Kaz Bana, followed with the same reverence of his master. His hands remained clasped behind his back, his head bowed as he listened to his master's words. His eyes remained fixed on the ground before him, even if his senses were heightened to focus on every slight shift in breeze and temperature. He did not need precognition or visions to know the purpose of the conversation. It is one that had been delayed longer than he would have preferred, and it took every ounce of discipline to not rush his mentor.
"To become a Jedi Knight in the old tradition, every padawan must undergo trials. Trials of Skill, of Courage, of Insight, of Spirit, and of the Flesh. I have tested you on these matters separately." Ro Nuul paused, standing still amidst the foliage. He did not look to Kaz with his eyes, noting the burgeoning excitement in the young man. He measured his words carefully. "I believe that you are ready, that your connection to the force and to this Order are exemplary. But..."
The pause was brief, but poignant. The swell of pride in Kaz's chest deflated. He turned his gaze towards the trees and grass, focusing his body on breathing to temper his emotions.
"You have expressed an interest in serving the Republic, and in aiding the reformation of an Investigatory service. Is this still true?"
The question startled the Padawan, his head snapping back to attention. He had not verbalized such a desire in over a year, focusing himself instead on dedicating himself to the trials. He did not understand the connection nor purpose, but the verbal response was swift. "Of course, Master Nuul."
"Do you understand the purpose of such an organization?"
"To aid in law enforcement investigations for local systems and the Senatorial Investigation Service, and to monitor former students of the academy. " Neat, rehearsed, and practiced. Kaz spoke the definition like a mantra, with a wide smile.
"Those are my words, Padawan Bana. What are yours?"
Kaz's smile faltered. He had, in fact, fallen on Master Nuul's explanations of the Corps. The need for such an organization felt sound, a necessity in a time of rebuilding. With a moment to compose himself, Kaz let the words flow naturally. "I seek truth through the force, and I feel a responsibility to share what I know with others." It was a simple reason, but it did not grasp the whole picture. There was a deeper purpose, an unspoken shadow that hung over the conversation. In a more peaceful time, Kaz would have preferred to be a dedicated healer. Preference mattered little with so much on the line, in a galaxy so fragile that a tragedy could spiral decades of work into more destruction. "I do not know the horrors of the Inquisition, but I have sensed the pain in you and the other Masters. If the darkness festers still in the galaxy, it is our responsibility to bring it to light."
Master Nuul nodded thoughtfully, lifting two pointed fingers to stroke his chin. "Do you believe you are ready to face the darkness that lies out there?"
The question felt rhetorical. They both knew the answer. "I am ready, Master."
"This will prove it." Master Ro Nuul slipped a hand into his robes, emerging again to reveal a small metallic disk. With a single tap, the device sprung to life. A blue holographic image projected above the projector, revealing a miniature diagram of the galaxy. A blinking dot at the very fringe of the map drew Kaz's eye. "We have lost contact with a former student, a pilot by the name of Wylin Greegs. A cargo freighter picked up his distress beacon while on business in the Rothana system, but only briefly. She reported it to local authorities back in Republic space. Unfortunately, Rothana lies outside the Republic's jurisdiction." The holographic display quickly began to dim, and Ro Nuul slipped the projector back into his robes. His gaze remained focused on his apprentice, studying him carefully. "I would check in on Wylin myself, but the senate has called for me to speak with representatives to finalize the formation of the Investigation Corps."
Kaz nodded slowly, his forehead wrinkling as he lost himself in thought. Wylin Greegs was no stranger, he was a friendly Rodian that the Padawan had taken a liking to. He liked to tell stories of the trouble he used to get up to in the Outer Rim. Old habits seemed to die hard, even for the disciplined. "So... the trial is to find out what happened to Greegs and report back?"
The Kel Dor nodded. "The Senate has sent a shuttle for me, so I am lending you my ship and my piloting droid for this trial."
A small smile crept on his face. The same excitement that had burned in his chest when they first stepped into the garden had returned. The Nautolan brought both hands together in front of his stomach and bent forward in a deep bow. "I will not let you down, master."
”I know, my apprentice.” Master Ro Nuul’s cheeks wrinkled in an obscured smile for a moment. He hesitated mid bow, his fingers twitching. His voice was lined with a slight apprehension. ”I would advise that you be weary, Padawan Bana. You are journeying into dangerous waters, and it would be wise to conceal yourself.”
Kaz Bana looked down to the formal robes he wore, and the symbol of his discipline clipped to his belt. The meaning was understood clearly beneath his master’s warning. A Jedi wandering out of Republic territory drew attention that could impact his investigation. He would need to blend in.
"Traveling light this rotation, sir?" The metallic tone of the four-armed piloting droid was a welcome sound for Kaz. He had shirked his usual bound robes for what the students at the Temple had assured were appropriate civilian wear. The clothing was a sensory nightmare. Kaz's shirt was far too loose for his comfort. The fabric of his pants felt coarse on his skin. The boots he had been lent had the slightest lift and made even walking feel unnatural. The only thing that felt reassuring was the large overcoat, which sported ample pocket space and a means to conceal the saber strapped to his belt. An old reinforced knapsack was the only baggage he brought on-board Ro Nuul's ship, an old T-6 shuttle that had survived the Clone Wars. The fresh blue stripes along its wings were an open signal that it was unarmed.
Kaz turned his attention to the old protocol droid, one that seemed to be a relic of the older days of the Republic. P7-T74 was designed as a simple transport pilot and personal porter. While his frame showed signs of decades of aging, the droid seemed as spritely as ever. It had been waiting near the shuttle's entrance, following the Padawan diligently as he boarded the vessel and instinctively made for his own quarters on-board. He tilted his head against his shoulder, speaking to the droid shadowing him. "Never much to pack any rotation, PT. Do you have the coordinates?"
"I have calculated a suitable flight plan. Master Nuul advised that we remain in Republic space for most of our journey. We will be making three stops along the way. Our last stop will be at Rogue Station in the Scarif system." Kaz nodded in acknowledgment. The aforementioned pit-stop was a small refueling and trading station in the fringes. While the Remnant had been cleared from the nearby systems, years of hardship and skirmishes had left the systems mostly barren. Rogue Station was just another one of the bandages the Republic had tried to place on a hemorrhaging galaxy. It wasn't the safest location, but places like that were regularly monitored by Rangers and the Hutts: after all, spice smugglers needed somewhere to refuel and restock without raising any suspicions.
"Very well. You can begin your pre-flight checks and warm the thrusters, I will join you shortly," Kaz said, a grateful warmth underlying his words. He turned briefly to flash a reassuring smile.
The droid stiffly bowed, the closest approximation it's body had to a nod of acknowledgment. It responded simply, ”Right away, sir." It shuffled off in the direction of the cockpit, cutting through the joint galley and meeting space.
Left to his own whims, Kaz continued off towards the rear of the ship. As he approached the small blast door leading to his room, it slid open with a hydraulic hiss. His chambers were sparse, but rather spacious for a vessel like this. It sported the usual mounted bed, a small desk, and a soft mat in the corner for meditation. Waiting diligently for his arrival, a floating metallic droid greeted him enthusiastically with a series of whirs and chirps. A dim red light shone behind the glass of its visual sensor. Several antennae stuck up awkwardly from the top of it, and an impressive assortment of sensory modules were welded and bolted to the side of it to the point its silhouette more resembled an amorphous blob than its initial spherical design. The Jedi smiled, lifting a hand to gently pat the top of the droid’s frame. ”Yes, yes, I missed you too Obbee,” he reassured teasingly.
Kaz unshouldered his knapsack, placing it gently on the floor next to his bed while taking a look at the desk again. He wasn’t one for excessive decorations, preferring a small set of trinkets he had picked up on previous outings with his master. A small, innocuous mount on the wall over it caught his eye, though. He looked down his chest to his belt, moving the jacket to reveal a gleaming lightsaber. He unhooked it from its holster, admiring the gleaming durasteel frame for a moment. It was the truest sign of how far he had come from his home, the product of years of dedication and training distilled into a single tool. He reverently placed it on the wall mount, watching as metal hooks automatically locked around it to keep it steady. Carrying it around would draw unwanted attention, even if it did provide a level of comfort that felt much needed.
With a couple quick assurances to his observation droid, Kaz made his way to the cockpit. PT was already settled into the pilot’s seat, flicking switches to get the shuttle ready for takeoff. The Nautolan silently settled into the co-pilot’s seat, strapping himself in tight. He focused himself, taking in a couple deep breaths. Even with a highly skilled droid at the stick, flying always made him nervous. He could only hope for a safe flight.
| 2 ROTATIONS LATER | THE SCARIFF SYSTEM |
It was hard to process the sight before Kaz' eyes as his shuttle warped out of hyperspace. He had not seen Rogue Station specifically, but he imagined it was not supposed to be so deconstructed. It was like the station had been cracked in half, the floating ring hovering lightly in disjointed floating plates. It was only as another explosion rippled through the station and sent chunks of debris rocketing into the darkness of space that Kaz understood the drop in his stomach before they entered the system. Pain, loss, and anger bottled up in the back of his head, the cries of dozens caught up in a tragedy the Jedi still didn't understand.
And then, it happened. The feeling in Kaz's stomach shifted, the sudden rush of endorphins and adrenaline. Something was wrong, something was coming. They needed to move. His body moved before his mind, his hands reaching for the helm of the co-pilot's seat. The quick yank rocked the ship to the side, auxiliary thrusters helping the craft strafe to the side. PT turned its expressionless gaze to the Jedi, its processors even struggling to compute what was happening. The answer came as sudden flashes of red light illuminated the cockpit. Two brief bursts of concentrated lasers shot past the transparisteel viewing port. Its close proximity was alarming, and Kaz quickly began to put together the pieces. PT recomposed themselves, opting to quickly divert power to the shuttle's shields while zipping off laterally to try and shake whatever was firing at them.
The Jedi quickly reached for a headset dangling from its perch near his controls. He put it on, his fingers reaching for the dials and knobs. He didn't know who was shooting at them, opting to instead flip all the switches of his radio on to broadcast on all frequencies. Certainly this was all just a misunderstanding. He called out into the microphone, ”Unidentified vessel, this is an unarmed diplomatic transport. We mean you no harm.”
As if in response, a starfighter zipped past the shuttle and into view of the cockpit. It was an older snubfighter, a Z-95 with chipped paint and a monochromatic logo of shaded concentric circles on the wings. Kaz watched as the pilot, a human in a flight suit, turned to get a good look at them from his own cockpit. The tense moment seemed to drag indefinitely, the two sides seeming to size each other up. A high-pitched voice crackled over the radio. "Don't look like they're Rangers or Republic, Varrask. Don't look like they got credits either. What's the call?"
An agonizing moment lingered as Kaz looked to the droid piloting his shuttle. He could sense the apprehension from the pilot that had shot at them. Even pirates seemed nervous to shoot at an unarmed transport, especially one as beat up as theirs if there was nothing to be gained. Even those at the fringes wouldn’t want to kick a loth cat while it was down. When the radio crackled to life once again, Kaz’ stomach twisted into knots.
"No complicationsss," a raspy voice hissed.
Everything shifted in an instant. PT gunned it, launching the shuttle forward. The snubfighter quickly dipped into a roll to turn itself around and chase its target. The sudden flash of blaster fire made it clear there was one more... no, two more pursuers. As the shuttle flew above the wreckage of the recently destroyed station, the sight of a heavily armed freighter hidden among the devastation let reality sink into Kaz' chest. They had stumbled into a robbery gone wrong, a show of force from the Crimson Dawn probing at unprotected space. Strapped into the co-pilot's seat, Kaz felt the immense fear that came from a lack of control of his situation. The only thing he could do was work the comms unit, and that had failed to save them thus far.
"Get us out of here, closest system."
"Calculating course for the Rishi system."
"Hur–"
The two were thrown forward against their restraints as another volley of blaster fire made impact. The concentrated fire tore through the shields, clearly damaging the shuttle. They needed to get out of there immediately. One of PT's arms began to press buttons on a console between them, inputting the coordinates while they spun the shuttle around. The cockpit faced their assailants then, three Z-95s bearing down and unleashing a barrage of fire their way. Kaz closed his eyes, centering himself. He had to trust in the force.
"Calculations com–" Kaz flicked his hand to the hyperspace lever, punching it forward before PT could finish speaking. The lights around them began to blur and blend, streaking across the viewport until all that remained were streaks of blue light in a sea of black. The speed of their travel pushed Kaz into the back of his seat, hands gripping the armrests of his chair. A small, frayed laugh slipped from the Jedi as an overwhelming mix of emotions rushed through his chest. The jump was short, lasting less than a minute. As the shuttle rapidly slowed down, a few things popped into view at once. A large barren moon circled a bright green and blue planet, all washed in a red hue from the star blinding their viewscreen. Unfortunately, no ships or stations were there to greet them.
The Jedi quickly fiddled with his controls, taking in a lot of information at once. The hull had been breached, and there appeared to be some electronic interference. The ship diagnostics seemed to blink in and out, with readings on the engines and life support fluctuating from fully powered to unresponsive. Kaz flicked a switch to monitor for radio frequencies, and sighed as he found nothing but background activity. They were clearly still well outside Republic space, and getting a message would be a nightmare. The best he would be able to manage is to get a message out. With a few button presses, a small blue light over the screen shone onto Kaz’s face. He needed to make this quick, while PT focused on calculating another jump.
"Master Nuul, we have run into a complication. Rogue Station has been destroyed, and we were assaulted while attempting to refuel. We are now in the...." The Jedi quickly turned a knob, watching as the viewscreen showed a crude map of their sector of the galaxy. "Rishi system. We are going to attempt to make another ju–."
A loud bang and a violent shake startled Kaz from his message. His eyes widened as he flicked through ship diagnostics. The hyperdrive and left sublight engines all flashed red, with more systems following suit. The creaking and groaning of the metal hull made it clear that the damage they had sustained was more than the superficial hit he had hoped for. More worryingly, a new alarm blared on the monitor: something was coming out of hyperspace.
Kaz turned his gaze to PT, subconsciously holding his breath before he spoke. "PT… take us down planetside." He looked back at the recording device, his tone losing its composure. "Change of plans… we’re still being chased. We are going to make an emergency landing. We need–" Another loud shake and explosion rocked the ship, followed by the flash of blasters. The light on the viewscreen dimmed. They were losing power to auxiliary systems, and Kaz needed to move fast. He tapped a couple buttons on the console, sending out the message to his master in a desperate attempt to get some kind of assistance. PT pushed forward on the stick, launching the shuttle forward with what speed the one engine would permit.
On the surface of the planet Rishi, a bright light trailed through the sky. Parts of the shuttle fragmented and split off on the entrance into the atmosphere, while a solitary snubfighter pursued it. The damaged ship veered off, deftly avoiding a mountain peak before pulling into a valley with a deafening roar. While dust and smoke rose from the crash site, the snubfighter passed by overhead, seeming to slow and stall to get a passing glance at the wreckage. The shuttle had come down hard and fast, and the odds of there being any survivors were slim at best. If anyone had survived, they would certainly need help before the snubfighter chose to investigate further.
His apprentice, Kaz Bana, followed with the same reverence of his master. His hands remained clasped behind his back, his head bowed as he listened to his master's words. His eyes remained fixed on the ground before him, even if his senses were heightened to focus on every slight shift in breeze and temperature. He did not need precognition or visions to know the purpose of the conversation. It is one that had been delayed longer than he would have preferred, and it took every ounce of discipline to not rush his mentor.
"To become a Jedi Knight in the old tradition, every padawan must undergo trials. Trials of Skill, of Courage, of Insight, of Spirit, and of the Flesh. I have tested you on these matters separately." Ro Nuul paused, standing still amidst the foliage. He did not look to Kaz with his eyes, noting the burgeoning excitement in the young man. He measured his words carefully. "I believe that you are ready, that your connection to the force and to this Order are exemplary. But..."
The pause was brief, but poignant. The swell of pride in Kaz's chest deflated. He turned his gaze towards the trees and grass, focusing his body on breathing to temper his emotions.
"You have expressed an interest in serving the Republic, and in aiding the reformation of an Investigatory service. Is this still true?"
The question startled the Padawan, his head snapping back to attention. He had not verbalized such a desire in over a year, focusing himself instead on dedicating himself to the trials. He did not understand the connection nor purpose, but the verbal response was swift. "Of course, Master Nuul."
"Do you understand the purpose of such an organization?"
"To aid in law enforcement investigations for local systems and the Senatorial Investigation Service, and to monitor former students of the academy. " Neat, rehearsed, and practiced. Kaz spoke the definition like a mantra, with a wide smile.
"Those are my words, Padawan Bana. What are yours?"
Kaz's smile faltered. He had, in fact, fallen on Master Nuul's explanations of the Corps. The need for such an organization felt sound, a necessity in a time of rebuilding. With a moment to compose himself, Kaz let the words flow naturally. "I seek truth through the force, and I feel a responsibility to share what I know with others." It was a simple reason, but it did not grasp the whole picture. There was a deeper purpose, an unspoken shadow that hung over the conversation. In a more peaceful time, Kaz would have preferred to be a dedicated healer. Preference mattered little with so much on the line, in a galaxy so fragile that a tragedy could spiral decades of work into more destruction. "I do not know the horrors of the Inquisition, but I have sensed the pain in you and the other Masters. If the darkness festers still in the galaxy, it is our responsibility to bring it to light."
Master Nuul nodded thoughtfully, lifting two pointed fingers to stroke his chin. "Do you believe you are ready to face the darkness that lies out there?"
The question felt rhetorical. They both knew the answer. "I am ready, Master."
"This will prove it." Master Ro Nuul slipped a hand into his robes, emerging again to reveal a small metallic disk. With a single tap, the device sprung to life. A blue holographic image projected above the projector, revealing a miniature diagram of the galaxy. A blinking dot at the very fringe of the map drew Kaz's eye. "We have lost contact with a former student, a pilot by the name of Wylin Greegs. A cargo freighter picked up his distress beacon while on business in the Rothana system, but only briefly. She reported it to local authorities back in Republic space. Unfortunately, Rothana lies outside the Republic's jurisdiction." The holographic display quickly began to dim, and Ro Nuul slipped the projector back into his robes. His gaze remained focused on his apprentice, studying him carefully. "I would check in on Wylin myself, but the senate has called for me to speak with representatives to finalize the formation of the Investigation Corps."
Kaz nodded slowly, his forehead wrinkling as he lost himself in thought. Wylin Greegs was no stranger, he was a friendly Rodian that the Padawan had taken a liking to. He liked to tell stories of the trouble he used to get up to in the Outer Rim. Old habits seemed to die hard, even for the disciplined. "So... the trial is to find out what happened to Greegs and report back?"
The Kel Dor nodded. "The Senate has sent a shuttle for me, so I am lending you my ship and my piloting droid for this trial."
A small smile crept on his face. The same excitement that had burned in his chest when they first stepped into the garden had returned. The Nautolan brought both hands together in front of his stomach and bent forward in a deep bow. "I will not let you down, master."
”I know, my apprentice.” Master Ro Nuul’s cheeks wrinkled in an obscured smile for a moment. He hesitated mid bow, his fingers twitching. His voice was lined with a slight apprehension. ”I would advise that you be weary, Padawan Bana. You are journeying into dangerous waters, and it would be wise to conceal yourself.”
Kaz Bana looked down to the formal robes he wore, and the symbol of his discipline clipped to his belt. The meaning was understood clearly beneath his master’s warning. A Jedi wandering out of Republic territory drew attention that could impact his investigation. He would need to blend in.
"Traveling light this rotation, sir?" The metallic tone of the four-armed piloting droid was a welcome sound for Kaz. He had shirked his usual bound robes for what the students at the Temple had assured were appropriate civilian wear. The clothing was a sensory nightmare. Kaz's shirt was far too loose for his comfort. The fabric of his pants felt coarse on his skin. The boots he had been lent had the slightest lift and made even walking feel unnatural. The only thing that felt reassuring was the large overcoat, which sported ample pocket space and a means to conceal the saber strapped to his belt. An old reinforced knapsack was the only baggage he brought on-board Ro Nuul's ship, an old T-6 shuttle that had survived the Clone Wars. The fresh blue stripes along its wings were an open signal that it was unarmed.
Kaz turned his attention to the old protocol droid, one that seemed to be a relic of the older days of the Republic. P7-T74 was designed as a simple transport pilot and personal porter. While his frame showed signs of decades of aging, the droid seemed as spritely as ever. It had been waiting near the shuttle's entrance, following the Padawan diligently as he boarded the vessel and instinctively made for his own quarters on-board. He tilted his head against his shoulder, speaking to the droid shadowing him. "Never much to pack any rotation, PT. Do you have the coordinates?"
"I have calculated a suitable flight plan. Master Nuul advised that we remain in Republic space for most of our journey. We will be making three stops along the way. Our last stop will be at Rogue Station in the Scarif system." Kaz nodded in acknowledgment. The aforementioned pit-stop was a small refueling and trading station in the fringes. While the Remnant had been cleared from the nearby systems, years of hardship and skirmishes had left the systems mostly barren. Rogue Station was just another one of the bandages the Republic had tried to place on a hemorrhaging galaxy. It wasn't the safest location, but places like that were regularly monitored by Rangers and the Hutts: after all, spice smugglers needed somewhere to refuel and restock without raising any suspicions.
"Very well. You can begin your pre-flight checks and warm the thrusters, I will join you shortly," Kaz said, a grateful warmth underlying his words. He turned briefly to flash a reassuring smile.
The droid stiffly bowed, the closest approximation it's body had to a nod of acknowledgment. It responded simply, ”Right away, sir." It shuffled off in the direction of the cockpit, cutting through the joint galley and meeting space.
Left to his own whims, Kaz continued off towards the rear of the ship. As he approached the small blast door leading to his room, it slid open with a hydraulic hiss. His chambers were sparse, but rather spacious for a vessel like this. It sported the usual mounted bed, a small desk, and a soft mat in the corner for meditation. Waiting diligently for his arrival, a floating metallic droid greeted him enthusiastically with a series of whirs and chirps. A dim red light shone behind the glass of its visual sensor. Several antennae stuck up awkwardly from the top of it, and an impressive assortment of sensory modules were welded and bolted to the side of it to the point its silhouette more resembled an amorphous blob than its initial spherical design. The Jedi smiled, lifting a hand to gently pat the top of the droid’s frame. ”Yes, yes, I missed you too Obbee,” he reassured teasingly.
Kaz unshouldered his knapsack, placing it gently on the floor next to his bed while taking a look at the desk again. He wasn’t one for excessive decorations, preferring a small set of trinkets he had picked up on previous outings with his master. A small, innocuous mount on the wall over it caught his eye, though. He looked down his chest to his belt, moving the jacket to reveal a gleaming lightsaber. He unhooked it from its holster, admiring the gleaming durasteel frame for a moment. It was the truest sign of how far he had come from his home, the product of years of dedication and training distilled into a single tool. He reverently placed it on the wall mount, watching as metal hooks automatically locked around it to keep it steady. Carrying it around would draw unwanted attention, even if it did provide a level of comfort that felt much needed.
With a couple quick assurances to his observation droid, Kaz made his way to the cockpit. PT was already settled into the pilot’s seat, flicking switches to get the shuttle ready for takeoff. The Nautolan silently settled into the co-pilot’s seat, strapping himself in tight. He focused himself, taking in a couple deep breaths. Even with a highly skilled droid at the stick, flying always made him nervous. He could only hope for a safe flight.
| 2 ROTATIONS LATER | THE SCARIFF SYSTEM |
It was hard to process the sight before Kaz' eyes as his shuttle warped out of hyperspace. He had not seen Rogue Station specifically, but he imagined it was not supposed to be so deconstructed. It was like the station had been cracked in half, the floating ring hovering lightly in disjointed floating plates. It was only as another explosion rippled through the station and sent chunks of debris rocketing into the darkness of space that Kaz understood the drop in his stomach before they entered the system. Pain, loss, and anger bottled up in the back of his head, the cries of dozens caught up in a tragedy the Jedi still didn't understand.
And then, it happened. The feeling in Kaz's stomach shifted, the sudden rush of endorphins and adrenaline. Something was wrong, something was coming. They needed to move. His body moved before his mind, his hands reaching for the helm of the co-pilot's seat. The quick yank rocked the ship to the side, auxiliary thrusters helping the craft strafe to the side. PT turned its expressionless gaze to the Jedi, its processors even struggling to compute what was happening. The answer came as sudden flashes of red light illuminated the cockpit. Two brief bursts of concentrated lasers shot past the transparisteel viewing port. Its close proximity was alarming, and Kaz quickly began to put together the pieces. PT recomposed themselves, opting to quickly divert power to the shuttle's shields while zipping off laterally to try and shake whatever was firing at them.
The Jedi quickly reached for a headset dangling from its perch near his controls. He put it on, his fingers reaching for the dials and knobs. He didn't know who was shooting at them, opting to instead flip all the switches of his radio on to broadcast on all frequencies. Certainly this was all just a misunderstanding. He called out into the microphone, ”Unidentified vessel, this is an unarmed diplomatic transport. We mean you no harm.”
As if in response, a starfighter zipped past the shuttle and into view of the cockpit. It was an older snubfighter, a Z-95 with chipped paint and a monochromatic logo of shaded concentric circles on the wings. Kaz watched as the pilot, a human in a flight suit, turned to get a good look at them from his own cockpit. The tense moment seemed to drag indefinitely, the two sides seeming to size each other up. A high-pitched voice crackled over the radio. "Don't look like they're Rangers or Republic, Varrask. Don't look like they got credits either. What's the call?"
An agonizing moment lingered as Kaz looked to the droid piloting his shuttle. He could sense the apprehension from the pilot that had shot at them. Even pirates seemed nervous to shoot at an unarmed transport, especially one as beat up as theirs if there was nothing to be gained. Even those at the fringes wouldn’t want to kick a loth cat while it was down. When the radio crackled to life once again, Kaz’ stomach twisted into knots.
"No complicationsss," a raspy voice hissed.
Everything shifted in an instant. PT gunned it, launching the shuttle forward. The snubfighter quickly dipped into a roll to turn itself around and chase its target. The sudden flash of blaster fire made it clear there was one more... no, two more pursuers. As the shuttle flew above the wreckage of the recently destroyed station, the sight of a heavily armed freighter hidden among the devastation let reality sink into Kaz' chest. They had stumbled into a robbery gone wrong, a show of force from the Crimson Dawn probing at unprotected space. Strapped into the co-pilot's seat, Kaz felt the immense fear that came from a lack of control of his situation. The only thing he could do was work the comms unit, and that had failed to save them thus far.
"Get us out of here, closest system."
"Calculating course for the Rishi system."
"Hur–"
The two were thrown forward against their restraints as another volley of blaster fire made impact. The concentrated fire tore through the shields, clearly damaging the shuttle. They needed to get out of there immediately. One of PT's arms began to press buttons on a console between them, inputting the coordinates while they spun the shuttle around. The cockpit faced their assailants then, three Z-95s bearing down and unleashing a barrage of fire their way. Kaz closed his eyes, centering himself. He had to trust in the force.
"Calculations com–" Kaz flicked his hand to the hyperspace lever, punching it forward before PT could finish speaking. The lights around them began to blur and blend, streaking across the viewport until all that remained were streaks of blue light in a sea of black. The speed of their travel pushed Kaz into the back of his seat, hands gripping the armrests of his chair. A small, frayed laugh slipped from the Jedi as an overwhelming mix of emotions rushed through his chest. The jump was short, lasting less than a minute. As the shuttle rapidly slowed down, a few things popped into view at once. A large barren moon circled a bright green and blue planet, all washed in a red hue from the star blinding their viewscreen. Unfortunately, no ships or stations were there to greet them.
The Jedi quickly fiddled with his controls, taking in a lot of information at once. The hull had been breached, and there appeared to be some electronic interference. The ship diagnostics seemed to blink in and out, with readings on the engines and life support fluctuating from fully powered to unresponsive. Kaz flicked a switch to monitor for radio frequencies, and sighed as he found nothing but background activity. They were clearly still well outside Republic space, and getting a message would be a nightmare. The best he would be able to manage is to get a message out. With a few button presses, a small blue light over the screen shone onto Kaz’s face. He needed to make this quick, while PT focused on calculating another jump.
"Master Nuul, we have run into a complication. Rogue Station has been destroyed, and we were assaulted while attempting to refuel. We are now in the...." The Jedi quickly turned a knob, watching as the viewscreen showed a crude map of their sector of the galaxy. "Rishi system. We are going to attempt to make another ju–."
A loud bang and a violent shake startled Kaz from his message. His eyes widened as he flicked through ship diagnostics. The hyperdrive and left sublight engines all flashed red, with more systems following suit. The creaking and groaning of the metal hull made it clear that the damage they had sustained was more than the superficial hit he had hoped for. More worryingly, a new alarm blared on the monitor: something was coming out of hyperspace.
Kaz turned his gaze to PT, subconsciously holding his breath before he spoke. "PT… take us down planetside." He looked back at the recording device, his tone losing its composure. "Change of plans… we’re still being chased. We are going to make an emergency landing. We need–" Another loud shake and explosion rocked the ship, followed by the flash of blasters. The light on the viewscreen dimmed. They were losing power to auxiliary systems, and Kaz needed to move fast. He tapped a couple buttons on the console, sending out the message to his master in a desperate attempt to get some kind of assistance. PT pushed forward on the stick, launching the shuttle forward with what speed the one engine would permit.
On the surface of the planet Rishi, a bright light trailed through the sky. Parts of the shuttle fragmented and split off on the entrance into the atmosphere, while a solitary snubfighter pursued it. The damaged ship veered off, deftly avoiding a mountain peak before pulling into a valley with a deafening roar. While dust and smoke rose from the crash site, the snubfighter passed by overhead, seeming to slow and stall to get a passing glance at the wreckage. The shuttle had come down hard and fast, and the odds of there being any survivors were slim at best. If anyone had survived, they would certainly need help before the snubfighter chose to investigate further.
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