Star Wars: A Galaxy Turned Upside Down

(This Thread is closed for myself and SiaKlynn)

IC: Krae Jorann

The Rising Star flew through the thick clouds of grey-tinged with heavy metal pollution slightly illuminated in the early morning light as Charis' single sun was just peeking over the darkened horizon. The Rising Star was a beat up Correllian YT 1290 light freighter held together by prayers, binding wire, and the owners' resolute faith in the impossible luck that kept them going to just the next landing site.

the planet of Charis wasn't known as a picturesque spot for a vacation in the galaxy, and it was easy to see why. A landscape of rolling hills with stunted trees and brown dying grass rushed beneath the Rising Star. Then ore-hauling automated train lines, chemical pipelines industrial material depots and various factory complexes burned down and cratered by bombs littered with wrecks of Republic and Droid war machines dotting the ground below .

The Planet of Charis was an industrial world that had been a part of the Republic until the Clone Wars spilled over the galaxy. Charis feeling the sting of heavy Republic taxes on the manufacture and export of their goods and the sting of Coreworld haughty attitudes towards upstart outer rim worlds eagerly followed Count Dooku's advice and joined the Speratist cause. Since then many of its abundant factories have patriated and converted into manufacturers of battledroid blasters, concussion rockets, thermal detonators , buzz droids, AAT tanks, MTT transports, and Vulture Droids.

The Republic replied by sending a task force that landed an entire division of Clones to liberate the people of Charis from the greedy hands of the Confederacy. The CIS replied by reinforcing the garrison of droids they had on the planet, and ever since the surface of Charis has been a battleground like so many worlds in the Clone Wars.

Now three years later the Republic had almost achieved total victory encircling the Droid army around its last factory safely hiding behind a gargantuan shield as it made more and more supplies to repulse the Republic's seige. But that was in the northern hemisphere of Charis, The Rising Star was flying above the southern Hemisphere, overlooked and forgotten as droid and clone fought it out up north.

"Nice place to visit," Krae Jorann said as he looked out through viewport for their landing site.

"Nice place to leave to visit somewhere else you mean," His sister, Drue, joked. She sat in the pilot's couch-since Krae had to grudgingly admit she was the better pilot and mechanic and Sabaac player-though he brought his own value to their partnership-he had a good nose for oppurtunity and much better at the customer relations end of their business.

He pointed to a bomb cratered material supply depot before them, "There's the place, set her down."

As The Rising Star lowered its landing gear and settled on Repulsors over the depot the saw a red-haired man step out from nearly flattened building. The freighter settled down releasing coolant vapor as Drue shut down the main engines and repulsors. Krae got out of the co-pilot seat and walked to the Star's entry-ramp. As it lowered he saw the Red-haired man waiting for him.

"You the milkman," He asked.

"That depends," He answered stepping out to the man, "You the Keeper?"

The man nodded and motioned behind him as two men and a Rodian came out of the building followed by three loader droids bearing large crates.

"Blasters," The Red-haired man supplied, "For the cause."

"I don't care as long as it pays in good hard credits," Krae shrugged. He had mixed feelings smuggling for the Seperatists, since a major member was That seed of Sithspawn Trade Federation. But they paid which is more than he could say for the holier than thou hoity toity Jedi running the war for the Republic.

Krae watched as the loader droids carried crates into the Star's relatively small cargo hold.

Another of the men approached bearing macrobinoculars. "Krennis," He said to the Red-haired man, "We have a problem. The Scanners are picking up a Republic patrol just off to the North of us."

Krae was getting a bad feeling all of a sudden. He yelled up the ramp to his sister, "Fierfek! Drue, heat up the engine we may need a quick dusting off this rock."

"Hang on there man. We get patrols all the time," Krennis told him, "Just sit tight and they'll pass by without even noticing, but start up your ship will be sure and get their attention. Besides we're not even done yet."

Krae looked at Krennis then to the man with macrobinoculars. He held out his hand to him, "Let me see those."

Through the Macrobinoculars he looked through at the oncoming patrol. If they even veered in the direction of the landing site the Star was taking off cargo or no cargo.

He yelled up the ramp to his sister again, "Keep her warm, Drue, but be ready in case this goes kriffing sour."

Ceridwyn Xoan

A young Padawan woman in standard Jedi attire stands on the ridge of the grounded LAAT transport watching a cloud of billowing smoke in the north, filtering the rising sun to glow a dark orange, another menacing dawn. A breeze blows through the transport whipping long strands of chestnut across her face, eyelids closes over green eyes, she meditates. Ten long days she had been Charis with her Jedi Master who had been sent here to negotiate with the locals on the Republic’s behalf. The fighting had gone on too long, but with an end in sight peace will have to be made. The state of the industrial planet is in pieces and she can sense the sadness and frustration of the people, whose world has been torn apart by war. The entire galaxy felt as if it was on the verge of breaking into a million pieces and the Padawan struggled with the feelings of restlessness something her Jedi Master reprimanded her on too often as of late. She finds the peace she needs in these quiet moments when she has time to stand alone, clearing her thoughts and opening herself up to the Force.

“Wyn.”

The deep voice of her master interrupts the silence as does a dozen solid footsteps of the clone troopers following behind the olive skinned man his black hair nearly completely gray, his face weathered and lined with age, but his dark eyes are gentle and full of life. Opening her eyes she turns her head to look at the man who towers over her petite frame, “Yes, Master?”

“Our sensors have picked up a unidentified ship entering the atmosphere not far from here I want to investigate.”

Looking to the trooper on his right he gives a nod and the six troopers move forward joining Wyn in the transport, two of the soldiers take the pilot chairs and begin to warm up the engines. Krim steps up next to Ceridwyn and motions out to the horizon, “There along the base of those hills,” Turning his head to look at the pilot, “Captain take us out to southern hills, we’ll make a pass several meters away and then I’ll decide if we need to intervene.”

“Yes, sir.”

The LAAT lifts from the landing pad and begins to fly forward the ground racing beneath the wind kicking up the wind which blows Wyn’s hair into her face, so she moves away from the edge and steps to the back of the vehicle. Pulling her hair back into a ponytail the long braid marking her has a Padawan hangs down her shoulder. Turning around she stares at the backs of the clone troopers, Master Krim is standing on the ridge of the LAAT looking out at their destination his gaze appears to be focused on a specific location. There had been rumors of a number of unauthorized shipments leaving the planet, which is why they’d spent the last few days in the southern hemisphere where there was less fighting. A cluster of buildings came into view as well as a ship on the landing. They were still a distance away and she could not tell the make, but the scene looked a little suspicious.

“Captain circle around so we can make a closer pass.” Krim yells over the roar of the engines, but the order goes unfulfilled, something is wrong from her position Wyn had seen a holographic image pop up in the cockpit and then the atmosphere changed. She senses distress in her master. Just as she shifts her gaze to look at him chaos breaks out. The clone troopers all raised the weapons three training them on Master Krim the other three turn in her direction. The years of training makes her next move instinct her lightsaber jumping to her hand the blade ignites, a bright green, “Master!”

Krim already had his saber in his hand the blue blade blocking two blasts and striking down one trooper before a blast catches him the shoulders. Wyn blocks a volley of blasts sent her way and takes out the closest trooper. The Jedi Master falls back against the durasteel wall of the transport, “No!”

Wyn yells and blocks a bolt aimed at her head before slashing forward and killing another trooper. Drawing on the Force she pushes the air with her other hand and knocks another trooper to the ground. “Captain, land the ship!”

A useless command from the Padawan as the LAAT swerves in the air and the co-pilot now gets up from his chair with the blaster in his hand. What is going on? Master Krim is back on his feet and with the Force pushes the two still standing troopers out of the transport. The co-pilot sends off two shots, the first is blocked by Wyn’s saber but the second catches her in the upper left arm. Dropping to one knee she grits her teeth pushing away the pain. Krim turns on the trooper and cuts him down as well as the pilot, but the weight of the armor wearing trooper is too heavy for the injured Jedi to move out of the chair in time. The dead soldier slumped over sends the LAAT into a nose dive towards the ground. They have only seconds and Krim uses them to pull Wyn to her feet, “Jump!”

Not waiting for a response he pulls her with him as he jumps out of the transport. The ground rushes up too quickly for there be a calculated landing both hit the ground hard. Wyn blacks out.

A few minutes later Wyn wakes up with a groan her entire body aches especially her head and her left arm where she was shot. Slowly pushing up to a sitting position she touches her forehead feeling wet sticky trickle of blood at her hairline and winces from the sharp pain. As her head begins to clear she quickly looks around for Master Krim, his body laying several feet away unmoving. “Master.”

Pushing her feet she stumbles towards his body and then drops to her knees her hand moving to his chest she can feel his shallow breathes. Sighing with relief Wyn looks around they are in the middle of a dying meadow, exposed and ahead of them is the smoldering wreckage of the LAAT. She tries to make sense of what had happened why had the clone troopers turned on them? It had to be connected to the brief holo message she noticed popping up because it was after that chaos ensued. There is a dark feeling deep inside, twisting itself into a knot in the pit of her stomach taking in a deep breath she clears her mind and focuses on the peace of the Force. First thing is first she must get them to a safer location. Gently shaking Master Krim’s shoulder, “Master Krim, wake up…it is not safe here.”

Krim moans and tries to stir from the grip of unconsciousness Wyn’s voice sounds urgent and he can hear the underlying worry. The attack of the clone troopers is disturbing and he can feel a great disturbance within the Force. Opening his eyes he looks up at the dirty and battered face of his Padawan at least she appears to be alright, but he isn’t so sure about himself. Giving the young woman a reassuring smile he moves his hand to touch her arm and pain shoots through his chest, he must have cracked a rib. Wyn can feel his pain and worries for her master, “Master I need to help you get up, it’s not safe here. We need to move. The buildings we were headed for are not far.”

Krim nods once and with Wyn’s help slowly gets into a sitting position, but needs to rest for a moment as the pain from the broken rib takes his breath away. Calling on the Force for strength the Jedi Master, not wanting to overly worry his charge works through the pain and gets to his feet with her help. Wyn tucks her body beneath his arm for support. Their trek across the open plain is slow going and Wyn hopes they can find shelter before anyone comes looking for them. If they could no longer trust the clone troopers then how would they get off Charis? She needed to get in touch with the council. Every few feet they pause so that the Jedi Master can catch his breath, but they reach the destination out of sight at the back of large warehouse. Wyn can sense several other people around the building, so finding a secluded spot for Master Krim to rest she goes off to investigate perhaps these people could help them. Her master needed medical attention his injuries too severe for her skills as a healer. Ignoring her own throbbing head the Padawan moves quietly and swiftly around the perimeter of the building making sure to stay out of sight.

IC: Sgt. Curser

"Kriffing, Jedi," Curser swore as he labored to get a breath deep enough past ribs that screamed whenever he inhaled.

"Cracked Ribs, maybe even worse." He thought. His vison blurred and he fought a bout of dizziness. "Banged my head up too...Kriffing great."

He and Bongo had heard the broadcast over their helmet comlinks from the Supreme Chancellor-Order 66. Part of him still couldn't believe it. He had fought beside General Krim and Commander Xoan eversince his division had landed on this miserable polluted dirtball of a planet. He and all the others had generally liked serving with them. He would never have thought that they were traitors. But the Supreme Chancellor had been clear-Order 66-The Jedi had tried to betray the Republic somehow-Palpatine hadn't explained how. It didn't matter anyway. Curser had grown up like every other clone on Kamino, with the need to obey every command-even the ones that didn't make any sense flash-trained into him and re-emphasized over and over-even commands that really didn't make alot of sense to him personally. The fact of the matter was no one was above Supreme Commander Palpatine and if he had a good enough reason to issue Order 66 he didn't have to explain it to Curser or any of his brothers.

Every single Jedi was a traitor to the Republic now, and would be dealt with unhesitating prejudice. But he and Bongo both had hesitated and General Krim had used those Fierfek force powers to push them out of the gunship before it crashed. Curser had landed in a tree. He hadn't seen where Bongo had landed.

Curser tried to move and slipped out of the branches that had held him up and fell banging into several other branches before landing on his side on the ground below. As he did an arc of searing pain sho through him from his shoulder and ribs and head. He lay there using every curse in every languange he had learned since this war started: Hutteese, Basic, Bocci, and Mando'a.

He got up slowly, cursing as every movement brought a fresh jolt of pain. He was on a wooded area before a meadow where the gunship had crashed. In the clearing he could see the two Kriffing Jedi hobbling towards the buildings of the Seppie supply depot they had been circling. Commander Xoan had the general help up over her shoulder and Curser could tell they were in sorry shape from that crash. They didn't look up to any more fighting if he could get a lucky shot...his vision blurred and he coughed up blood with each blood soaked breath causing racking pain. "Kriffing great," He swore weakly between hacks.

He activated his helmet comm. "Patrol One-Eight reporting. Infantry Trooper Sergeant BO-10981/12300 only survivor. Unable to execute orders. Jedi traitors escaping. Requesting reinforcements." There was no response. Curser raised his hand wincing at the pain from his shoulder. He found a large dent on the side of his helmet where the Comm broadcasting unit would be. "Explains where I banged up my head."

Only one thing to do. He reached for the blaster pistol. One way or another, those Jedi traitors would pay.

But they had reached the buildings now with cover. Curser had fought alongside Jedi for three long brutal years of war. He didn't relish his chances of hitting two with just a pistol in his condition. Maybe he could slot one if he had surprise on his side, but the second...his chances weren't so good for success.

But as he began to limp towards the building he saw a body in white armor lying in the browned grass of the meadow. He recognized Bongo immediately. He limped over to his brother.

Bongo lay there still his helmet turned around on his head at an odd angle. He didn't move and as Curser knelt down he could tell it wasn't just Bongo's helmet that had been turned at an odd angle.

He pulled off his helmet to wipe away the tears. Curser collected the Kamnioan registration tags: Infantry Trooper Corporal BO-10982/12300. They had been grown in tubes beside each other trained and fought and served alongside eachother even as everyone else in their batch bought it. He and Bongo had always been inseperable, watching eachother's back like brothers in every sense of the word.

Now though they were seperated. Bongo was gone, and Curser swore as tears and blood from his head wound rolled down his face.

Then a sound from Bongo's helmet came up. "Patrol One-Eight do you copy? This is Patrol One-Six. Patrol One-Eight what is your status?"

Curser pulled off Bongo's helmet and quickly slipped it on his head. "Patrol One-Eight Kriffing down. Infantry Trooper Sergeant BO-10981/12300 only kriffing survivor. Unable to execute shabla orders. Fierfek Jedi Traitors escaping. Request kriffing reinforcements now."

"Copy that, BO-10981. Keep broadcasting on this channel. We'll home in on your location. ETA 4.8 minutes."

"Copy One-Six," Curser said through more and more labored breaths. "Be advised, One-Six, possible Shabla Seppie presence nearby of unknown kriffing strength."

"Acknowledged, just hang tight, brother."

The world was starting to fade. His ticket wasn't holding on any longer. Four minutes may be all he had until it was punched. He looked down at Bongo. "I'm coming brother. Soon we'll be together watching our backs once more. Together again...forever."

"One-Six, just be sure you get those Shabla traitor Jedi."

IC: Krae Jorann

Krae lowered the macrobinoculars as the Republic gunship crashed into a meadow a hundred meters away from the depot. He looked at the red-haired man called Krennis. "What in all the Correllian Hells just happened?"

"Wish I knew," Krennis said before pointing at the billowing smoke rising up from the crash, "Anyone will be able to see that for miles. We best hurry along here though."

"Now you're talking, Krennis." He raised the macrobinoculars to his eyes and Krae could see two figures rising up from the grass hobbling towards the depot. They weren't in the white armor of clones. The two wore brown robes and Krae could see silver cylindrical objects hanging off their belts. "Of all the rotten luck. That patrol was carrying two Jedi, and they're heading over here."

"Jedi," Krennis swore taking the macrobinoculars from Krae and looking through them at the two distant figures. "Stang, they're Jedi alright. But they look wounded...yeah...this is doable." He turned to his subordinate. "Manget, activate the four battledroids we were given and have them go straight at the Jedi. While they're busy slicing up the droids You and Klouttel circle around them on the right while me and the good captain here go around on the left."

"What," Krae shouted, "Hang on. I'm not crazy enough to go after a Jedi let alone two even two that are wounded."

"You're part of the Seperatist cause," Krennis replied.

"This isn't my war," Krae shot back, "I'm only doing this for the credits."

"Dooku pays a handsome reward for anyone who bags a Jedi."

"Didn't you hear me I'm not certifiable like you are."

"Fine, take your cargo and collect your credits we'll deal with the Jedi," Krennis said pushing him away. "Manget, we;ll have to do this on our own."

"Already on it boss," Manget said as four battle droids marched out of a building and straight for the Jedi who had now reached the edge of the depot.

"So long, Captain," Krennis said as he Manget and Kloutel pulled his blaster and began their flanking of the Jedi.

Krae climbed up the ramp.

"Bro," Drue called back from the cockpit, "It just got worse. I'm picking up a Republic transmission from somewhere nearby and another patrol coming in. They'll be right on top of us in about three minutes."

"Fierfek," Krae swore, "Rev up the engines, this job is getting too hot for me."

"If we short Barda again..."

"And how will we pay Barda off from the inside of a Republic prison for smuggling to the Seps." Krae snapped at her, "We'll keep the cargo doors open as long as we can for the loader droids, okay?"

He turned and entered the central lounge area of the Star saying to his sister as he went, "I'm heading to the top gun."

"The starboard power coupling is still giving the top gun overload problems remember," Drue called back as he got to the central axis ladder.

"I know," Krae said climbing into the seat, and activating the laser cannon, "But I can't really shoot a gunship from the belly gun and all I'll need is to keep it from blasting us until you get this bucket into the air."

"Fine, just watch the power gauges alright."

Krae didn't respond but as he swiveled the chair he looked down at the power gauges scowling as he saw each one peeking in the red already without even firing a shot. If it overloaded a good portion of the Star would go with it, including its captain sitting right behind it. "Stang, and I told Krennis I wasn't crazy."

Ceridwyn Xoan & Master Cortez Krim

“I can handle them, Master.”

Wyn says having not stepped two meters from Krim and around the corner of the warehouse when the battle droids approach with weapons drawn. The Padawan almost Jedi Knight is not afraid, igniting her blade she draws on the strength of the Force to clear her head and gracefully blocks the first volley of fire determined to protect her master and get them both to safety. Two bolts ricochet off the humming green blade and knock a droid to the ground. Needing a little distance she takes several steps backwards then uses the force to push another droid off balance before raising her saber and running at them full force, her movements are fluid as she cuts down the two standing droids and finishes off the one she previous knocked to the ground. Breathing heavily her sense of danger has not diminished and with good reason a blaster bolt sizzles past her head. The man, Manget, blaster in hand fires off another shot which Wyn blocks, separatists, had to be and that ship must be part of the unauthorized shipments rumored to be leaving the planet. This day is only getting worse. Sensing the distress of Master Krim, Wyn, whips around and sees her master standing with his saber ignited his stance unsteady and he appears to be in a confrontation, which is quickly confirmed with his blocking of a blaster bolt.

“You’re surrounded.”

Says the man with his blaster trained on Wyn her back again facing Master Krim, but her steps back up to meet him. Two men with blasters were little threat, but she bides her time Master Krim as a result of his injuries will move slower, but she can sense the strength within him. The stand off begins, Krennis grins, “Drop the sabers.”

Is he joking? Wyn wonders and in her mind she can hear Krim’s voice say, “No, he’s quite serious. We’ll attack them first on my mark I want you take the man on my left they won’t expect us to switch sparring partners.”

“Yes, Master.” Is her silent response.

A second later Krim steels his heavy breathes and shift his position to the right his hand outstretched and grabs Manget’s blaster gripping it with the Force and stealing it from his hand. Krennis gritting his teeth fires off a bolt at the elder Jedi, but Wyn is already in motion and blocks the bolt as she rushes the man, raising the saber above her head she slashes downward across his chest. The man cries out before crumpling to the ground. She doesn’t waste a moment of time turning around to make sure the other man is disabled –he’s alive and staring at the Jedi, steps back peddling and Wyn takes a step forward. “Wyn, stop.”

Master Krim is pale with beads of sweats running down his forehead and sides of his face, “Let him go, he’s unarmed and no longer a threat.”

The Padawan is about to protest, but she knows he is right and with the current threat neutralized she needs to find him help. Shutting down her lightsaber she reattaches it to her belt and moves to her master’s side. As she wraps an arm around his body he slumps against her for support and with staggering breathes struggles to speak, “There is a Republic transport nearing… we must not be here when it arrives. The ship we saw… on the landing pad-- that is our way to safety.”

Wyn learned long ago not to argue with Master Krim, so at this moment all she does is nod and helping to support him steps forward to the front of the warehouse. She can feel her master ignore the pain as he pushes his steps forward, keeping a steady pace, their “ride” must be close to leaving. A minute later they are in view of the ship the cargo bay ramp still down and a loading droid is making its way up the ramp with a pallet of crates. No else appears to be around and the roar of the Republic transport’s engine can be heard quickly approaching. They had to move quickly. Tightening her arm around her master’s body she calls on the Force for strength as she helps him move a little quicker. As the loading droid rolls down the ramp Wyn, supporting most of her master’s weight, lumbers up the ramp. She hopes the trip isn’t far she isn’t sure how much of her ability to help injuries heal would help Master Krim, but she believes she can keep him alive till she can get him medical attention . Taking a quick survey of the small cargo bay Wyn chooses a corner shielded by a stack of crates. Assisting Master Krim carefully to the ground those green eyes are shadowed with worry he did not look good. The man in his early 60s moves his hand to rest on hers as she takes a seat beside him on the cool durasteel floor, “Mind your feelings, Wyn, you need not worry.”

Wyn knows it is dangerous to worry to feel afraid as these are emotions which can lead to the darkside, but concern for his health she feels is valid. She did not want to lose him, but also recognizes that death is the way of life and is not an end, but a beginning of the next life becoming one with the Force. “Yes, Master.”

Wyn says softly and adds, “You should lay down. I’ll help you.” Pulling free the light tan over tunic draped over her back and front she folders the long material into a pillow and sets it under Krim’s head as she helps him lay back.

The pain surges through his body causing his breathe to shallow as he struggles to be brave for the sake of his Padawan even as he loses consciousness. He’d always tried to protect Wyn almost to a fault she was the third Padawan he’d trained and was guilty of keeping her close instead allowing her to face the trials and become a Jedi Knight. She is ready and had been for more than a year, but with the war he wanted to keep her by his side. The bond they’d formed years ago had grown deep and their attachment resembled that of a father and daughter. The last time they’d been on Coruscant Master Yoda had warned Krim about his affection for his Padawan and told him he should let her go. Though Krim agreed with Master Yoda’s wisdom he chose not to follow it, promising that when they next returned to Coruscant she would face the trails.

There is noise outside of the ship, the sound of the ramp closing catches her attention, she can hear the Republic transport drawing closer and if the crew of the freighter hoped to avoid any conflict they would have to take off quickly. The LAAT was not capable of high altitudes so escape with little to no damage was possible.

Wyn unable to help the situation works quietly at her master’s side they both had wounds that needed tending and before assessing her own injuries she takes care of Krim. In their utility belts they had basic medical supplies. Cutting away the material around his shoulders she reveals the blaster wound and sterilizes the area before placing a Bacta patch on the wound. The skin was charred but the wound was clean, it is not life threatening. It is his other injuries Wyn is concerned about because a Bacta patch will not mend a broken rib or stop internal bleeding both of these she suspects are true of his injuries. Once he is comfortable and sleeping Wyn turns to her own injuries, which are far from life threatening. Once she is finished she swallows part of an energy ration and then leans against the wall. She wonders how long they can stay hidden in the belly of the freighter without discovery. A number of questions catalog in her head –why had the clone troopers attacked them? Were they the only ones to have this experience? The disturbance in the Force tells her that something terrible has happened. Taking Master Krim’s hand between her own she closes her eyes, clears her mind and begins to meditate drawing on the healing powers of the Force and focuses on her master’s injuries this would make him comfortable and perhaps keep him alive until she can get him to a medical unit.

IC: Sgt Curser

Curser sat above the dead body of of his brother, Bongo, in the meadow overlooking the krifing Seppie outpost. He watched as the Jedi fought off a qaurtet of battledroids and three shabla Seppie with blasters. Commander Xoan and General Krim despite being injured acted marvelously dealing with the threat quickly and decisively. One of the Seppies ran off, and the Jedi entered the depot proper.

If he only had a kriffing sniper rifle. With his pitiful pistol at this range he might as well be shouting insults and holding a sign saying: "Any shabla traitor Jedi-please pick me off now!"

Instead he lowered the the macrobinoculars that Bongo had installed on his helmet and zoomed in as he observed Commander Xoan and General Krim sneaking off for the shabla Seppie freighter. It's engines revving up to take off. He could see the freighter's cargo bay doors open as if waiting for them. That settled it for Curser. The Jedi were in cahouts with the slime-sucking Seppies all along...they had betrayed the Republic...they had betrayed the GAR...they had betrayed him.

"Patrol One-Six be advised Kriffing Jedi are taking shabla refuge on Fierfek seppie freighter. It must not be allowed to take off."

"Copy, BO-10981."

He heard the sound of the Larty coming in and smiled placing a hand on the cold body of his brother, "Don't worry, Bongo, I'll see it done before I join you."

IC: Krae Jorann

Krae called in to his headset to his sister at the control as he saw the gunship growing larger and larger in the distance. "Raising the shields would be a good idea, Drue."

"Shields up," Was his sister's reply, "Closing Cargo bay. Ready for takeoff."

"Then get us out of here." He said as he let loose a volley from the laser cannon and swearing as he was forced to stop after missing wide for the powergauges spiked too far into the red. Then swore again as he saw the telltale flares as the gunship released its rockets.

The rockets flew in a crazy twisting course before plowing into the ground erupting in violent fiery explosions stressing the Star's shields as it rose up off the ground now littered with scragged blaster filled crates and mangled loader droids.

The Gunship came over the top of them in an effort to keep the freighter from rising. Krae smiled as he opened up on it blasting it to peices and flinching as the back of the lasercannon exploded. He placed his hand over his eyes rubbing the flashblindness away while the other checked his chest and gut feeling whether he was all still there and whole. "Sithspit, why didn't we buy those new quad-mounted guns last month?"

"As i recall that Toydarian junkdealer in Mos Espa convinced you that replacing the hyperdrive was a better use of the money."

"Well, next time I listen to a Toydarian trying to sell me something just shoot me, and save me the effort."

"In that case," Drue laughed, "Next stop Tatooine." Almost to emphasize the banter/threat Drue took the Star into a climb gaining more and more altitude.

Krae put up the head set and climbed back down to the main deck of their freighter and headed for the cockpit. He settled back into his customary place in the co-pilot's seat. He looked at Drue who was frozen over the sensor board.

"We have trouble coming," She said in a voice with the slightest quiver of fear coursing through her normally carefree tone. "Scanners just picked up Republic fighters heading for us from the north."

"Stang," He swore. Just when he thought it was over. "How many?"

"Uh...," Drue said glancing back at the display, "I think...All of them."

"What!" Krae got up and looked over her shoulder at the scanner station.

"That's alot of red blips coming at us." He thought as he shook his head.

"Sithspit, Why are they bothering with us," Krae said beating the console with his fist, "Don't they know they have a war to fight?"

"Well they won't reach us before we're out of atmosphere, maybe I can keep them off us till we're free of the gravity well to hyper out."

Then a staid clipped voice came from the comm, "Attention Seperatist vessel, Reverse course and land. Shut down all systems and hand over the jedi traitors or be destroyed."

Krae turned his head to stare at Drue, "Jedi?"

Ceridwy Xoan & Krim Cortez

Yes, Jedi and unbeknownst to the brother/sister smuggling team they had two stowaways in the belly of the Rising Star. Even now Wyn sits in quiet mediation next to the critically injured Jedi Master Krim. That is until the blasts outside rock the ship as it lifts off the ground. Taryn’s eyes pop open and Master Krim stirs a groan on his lips, “Wyn …where are we?”

Glancing down at her master, she rests a hand gently on his chest, “Rest. I’ll explain later.”

His lack of memory worries Wyn, but there were more pressing matters at the moment. The ship rocks with another explosion. Standing to her feet her lightsaber is in hand and she moves out from behind the walls the crates. What if the ship is boarded? A quick search will reveal more than the shipment containers. Taking a deep breath Taryn uses the Force to stretch her senses through the ship and confirms there are two on the ship – their companionship is close knit and both are anxious over the situation, but then there is something more – confusion, a question surrounds them both, but the Padawan cannot read their thoughts. She’d only ever had a telepathic connection with her Jedi Master and other Jedi, strangers are a challenge, but her empathy skills were very good.

Master Krim groans behind her, but she ignores him, for now. She had to be ready in case she needs to defend them. If they are boarded she won’t be able to survive the number of clone troopers sure to be sent in, but she will try and who knows maybe these two smugglers will put up a fight as well. Should the ship make it to hyperspace there will be much explaining because if she is reading the change in their attitudes correctly, someone who has the ability to contact to the Republic fleet, alerted the fleet of their location. Who could have? It’s possible all the clone troopers are part of the assassination attempt if one survived the crash he might have called it in…Shaking her head Wyn clears her thoughts of speculation and focuses on the present – not a foot away from where Master Krim lays the Padawan stands ready for anyone who may walk through the cargo bay doors.

IC: Krae Jorann

Drue hunkered over the helm. Her hands flew over controls as she said, "I'll patch auxiliary power to the engines...I'll scrounge up every ampoule I can find...maybe it'll be enough to help us get out of this..."

"We'll make it. The Star's never let us down yet." Krae said as he rose up out of the copilot seat.

"Where are you going," Drue said as they rose high above the polluted Charis cloudcover.

"The cargo bay." He told her pulling out his blaster from its holster on his hip, "I think we have a stowaway on board."

"A Jedi," Drue said turning to face him, "Krae, be careful, Jedi are serious poodoo."

"You worry about getting us out of here," He told her making his way out of the cockpit, "I'll worry about any Jedi onboard-besides that clone's probably chasing falling stars. Odds are the only things I'll find in the cargo hold are crates with Barda's blasters in them."

He left the cockpit and quickly ran down the neck of his ship to the central ring then went to his Drue's bunk rooms before reaching the hatch to the cargo hold nestled between the front mandibles of the Rising Star.

He paused before opening it. "Fierfek, I really enjoy having my hands, arms, and head attached to the rest of me."

He pressed the button and the hatch slid open. Cautiously he stepped through it holding out his blaster ready to fire at the slightest provocation. He was pretty fast though he knew Jedi were supposed to be kriffing scary at how fast they could react too. Inside the hold all he saw was boxes. There was no motion, nothing out of place. There was absolutely no sign that anyone was hiding in his cargo hold, but he had a feeling...he knew his ship...he could tell...he was not alone.

"Alright," He said calmly, "You might as well come out. I know you're in here."

Ceridwyn Xoan & Cortez Krim

A bruised and battered Padawan stands shadowed behind a large crate in the back of the cargo hold, a bubble of fear in her chest as she senses one of the crew members heading through the ship, they are about to meet their unknowing host. Master Krim stirs, “Peace, Wyn.”

Nodding slightly she takes in a deep breath and calms the fear if it is their time to die nothing will stop this fate. Glancing to the silver cylinder in her hand Wyn decides its best not to approach the man; yes it is a man heading towards them, with a weapon in hand. Clipping it to her belt she waits, patiently, till the sound of the cargo doors grind open. Glancing down to Master Krim he is conscience and watching her through half lidded eyes and whispers, his voice struggling to stay steady, “Move carefully he doesn’t want a fight, but will if provoked.”

“Alright…You might as well come out. I know you’re in here.”

His voice rings in her ears as she pauses for several seconds before moving out from behind the crate and slowly steps into view of Krae Jorann. Who the smuggler sees in a young woman appearing to be no older than eighteen though she is twenty-two her face dirty, scrapped and bruised. A lump visible at her hairline where she knocked her head earlier when jumping out of the transport and if it were not for the Jedi robes and cylinder hanging from her belt she would look rather helpless. Of course on closer inspection of the stowaway Krae will notice the woman is not yet a full Jedi the braid marking her as an apprentice hangs over her shoulder.

Ceridwyn takes another step closer her left arm, wounded by a blaster, hugs to her body and her right hand is held up in front of her as sign of surrender. “My apologies, “ she begins slowly, “I had nowhere else to run…and my Master is badly wounded, we could not stay on the planet. I had hoped to hide until you landed, so as not to be any trouble, but that does not seem to be the case.”

Though the Padawan appears calm her voice shakes as she tries to control the nerves and fear vying for recognition. Now is not to the time panic, but she knows they are at the mercy of smugglers, green eyes stare at the man with a blaster trained on her and tentatively meets his gaze, “Please, I must save him…his wounds are beyond my ability, but he can be saved with proper medical attention.”

Ceridwyn cannot say if this man is willing to help Jedi, if he is a separatist as she suspects he may toss them out the air lock without a second thought and while she is tempted to try and persuade him using the Force she knows that would be wrong. If he is to trust them at all then the decision must be his solely.

IC: Krae Jorann

A woman stepped out from behind some crates. Krae looked up and down the girl. She was young she looked eighteen but something in the way she held herself told Krae she was older than she looked. She looked banged up and bruised and pathetic as a ten day old bantha calf.

“My apologies," She said, "I had nowhere else to run…and my Master is badly wounded, we could not stay on the planet. I had hoped to hide until you landed, so as not to be any trouble, but that does not seem to be the case.”

"That's an understatement, lady." Krae snapped at her, "Give me one good reason not to hand you over to the clones."

Ceridwyn Xoan & Cortez Krim

One good reason, he wanted one good reason....Wyn is at loss for a moment faced with a difficult situation, but the reason is rather simple. She lowers the hand she had up to her side and stares at Krae for a moment before she looks to her left and then right. If she was a smug person she might have smirked, but she didn't, she simply states, "If you turn around and hand us over do you honestly believe they'll only take me and my master? You have a rather large shipment here and something tells me it's not a legal shipment."

Wyn falls quiet for a moment after that allowing him to think on the matter before adding, "I don't know what is happening, but something terrible has happened. For a reason beyond my knowledge my master and I were attacked by the troopers on our transports and it appears not be an isolated incident since you have been ordered to turn us over. We are at your mercy. If you decide to hand us over to the Republic I will go willing."

Her voice is soft and peaceful though inside she struggles to remain on her feet the injuries she endured earlier today along with the fighting have weakened her body. She wants to sink to the ground, but she calls the Force for strength if he decides they can stay she'll rest then.

IC: Krae Jorann

"If you turn around and hand us over do you honestly believe they'll only take me and my master? You have a rather large shipment here and something tells me it's not a legal shipment."

"She's got me there." Krae pursed his lips trying to think of a way to hand over these trouble-making Jedi to the clones without getting sent to prison for smuggling or shot as a seperatist.

"I don't know what is happening, but something terrible has happened. For a reason beyond my knowledge my master and I were attacked by the troopers on our transports and it appears not be an isolated incident since you have been ordered to turn us over. We are at your mercy. If you decide to hand us over to the Republic I will go willing." She said.

"Alright you win. When we get out of here-if we get out of here, I want you off my ship," He told her, "For now though go get the medical kit for you and your master while I try to keep us from getting blown to bits."

He left the cargo bay and headed back to the cockpit. "Well I hate being right," He told Drue as he sat back down.

He saw that they were finally breaking through atmosphere now as the morning blue sky darkened to space black and stars began to emerge.

Drue looked at him, "We have a jedi on board. Do you want me to shut down then?"

"No," He shook his head looking at the scanner displays again. Drue had managed to increase their lead a little. At their current speeds they would reach the edge of Charis' gravity well just as the clone Starfighters were on top of them. "How do you suggest I convince them not to look in the hold and after that that I'm not shipping Seperatist blasters."

"Good point," She nodded, "So its the usual plan, huh? Run like crazy."

"Wouldn't want you to get out of practice now would I?"

Ceridwyn Xoan & Cortez Krim

Wyn breathes a sigh of relief when he tells her she can stay. It was what she wanted - to get off Charis and then the moment they landed they'd never see her again. Her knees didn't buckle until he turned and left and then she slumped against the nearest crate. Breathing heavily pain rushes through her head, lifting her hand she touches the lump gently, but still her face scrunches with a wince. She didn't have time to care for herself right now she needed to go get the medical kit the man said she could use and try make Master Krim more comfortable.

Straighting, Wyn steps forward, her steps a little shaky and then leaves the cargo hold. She wasn't familiar with the layout of the ship, so it takes her several minutes to find the small medical bay, but once there she grabs the supplies she needs and returns to Master Krim. They be safe here in the cargo hold and out of the way, in fact, there would be little reason to interact with either smuggler till their departure.

Kneeling beside her master Wyn opens the medical kit her skills and knowledge limited, but the meds would help keep him stable until they landed. A few minutes later Krim stirs and with heavy lidded eyes looks to Wyn, "Are we safe?"

"For now. There are two on board, the male said we could stay until their next stop....it appears the Republic ordered our return, but he has a large shipment here and it wouldn't benefit them to oblige. He's not happy about it and less happy we're here...I think he has a prejudice against Jedi."

Master Krim reaches for Wyn's hand, which she takes and smiles at the strength in which he squeezes, "People fear what they don't know or understand. You made me proud today Wyn and I'm sorry I have held you back from facing the trials....you should be a knight and now..."

Wyn interrupts him, "I'm not sorry and I will be a knight. We'll get you help and while you're healing I'll contact the council they'll send a transport and then I can face the trials."

Master Krim pats her hand gently, "You are optimistic and that is good, but there is a great disturbance in the Force, I'm sure you've felt it, our way of life has changed, but to what extent I cannot be sure. There is a great evil shrouding the future...and pain. You'll have to be strong Wyn, mind your emotions and rely on the Force to guide you."

The words strike Wyn as if he is saying good-bye and the young woman despite what she was been taught and trained is suddenly afraid, she didn't want to lose him. Closing her eyes she stubbornly says, "You are not dying on me, Master. I will save you."

Krim lets out a slow breath and closes his eyes, "Be at peace, my Padawan. I will rest, so my body can heal."

The Jedi master then falls to sleep and Wyn feeling as if she can also sleep leans against the durasteel wall and drifts off.

IC: Krae Jorann

The Rising Star roared through the silence of space above the dirty cloud mottled orb of Charis behind it. Desperately it climmored up the inclined hyper-distortion a planet sized gravitational field impressed on the fabric of hyperspace. Few spacers ever attempted such a daredevil stunt and lived to tell the tale. For if any ship tried to accelerate into hyperspace while they were too deep within the Charis' gravity well the Rising Star and her cargo, crew, and passengers would be ripped asunder into their sub-atomic components stretching out all the way from Charis towards their destination for several lightyears maybe even a whole parsec or alternately go into hyperspace but never return from it. That might have been spooked spacer talk, but the fact remained jumping to hyperspace too close to a planet was seriously courting disaster.

So Krae was hunched over the Star's navi-computer refining their jump-solution to their set destination with two alternates should Drue be forced to perform evasive maneuvers and the need for a hasty exit become paramount afterward.

He checked the scanner display again. It really was every fighter they had. The faster V-wings were at full throttle stretching out ahead of the slower ARC 170's and the few assault shuttles lagging behind them all still just leaving the planet's atmosphere. Thank goodness they didn't have one of those assault cruisers in orbit or the Star would be in serious trouble.

"Drue, ten seconds until the lead V-wings have us in firing range," He told his sister just as a klaxon alerted them both that the pursuing fighters had just aqcuired positive missile locks on the beat-up Correllian freighter.

Drue's hand hovered over the levers for the hyperdrive and her eyes locked on the grav-field scanner. "Almost there...just a few more seconds."

"We don't have a few more seconds," Krae said locking in the first set of jump coordinates. This was going to be a race. Could they reach a safe distance to jump before the Republic fighters could catch them.

The klaxon sounded again, this time louder and more insistent. "Torpedoes launched...five seconds till..."

"Now or never," Drue cut him off yanking the levers down only to look at him acidly as the Hyperdrive made a whimpering sound and failed to send the Star into hyperspace.

"I'm going to wring that Toydarian junk dealer's scrawny little neck," Krae fumed as he slammed a fist on his console.

The hyperdrive, whether in response to his furor or a faulty circuit suddenly completed by the impact of his fist to the console, finally activated.

The stars lengthened and the the beat-up Correllian freighter named the Rising Star jolted into hyperspace with one second to spare before the torpedoes launched from the Republic V-wings reached it.

He sat back in his seat and shared a quiet moment with his sister watching the coruscating tunnel of hyperspace flow around their ship. He turned to Drue, "Do me a favor and run another diagnostic on the starboard power coupling."

"That'll be the fourth time, Krae," Drue said crossing her arms, "I'm telling you it has to be the Kuati power-flow regulator you installed onto it last week. I swear KDY designs the things to sabotage any and all Corellian systems dummies like us try to bolt them into."

"Fine, fine," He shrugged, "Next time I'll stick with the more expensive Corellian model. Who needs to eat anyway, right?"

"Speaking of food..."

"Right, I'm going to the galley and fix some breakfast. I'll also keep an eye on the Jedi."

"Do you trust them?"

"The Clones called them traitors, and judging by their over-reaction...no I don't trust them." He left the cockpit then and headed for the cargo bay to find the two jedi where he left them.

"What are you two still doing in here," He asked suspiciously checking to see if several of the crates of seperatist blasters hap been tampered with. He suddenly had a sick feeling that these two were scamming him to crack down on the Seperatist smuggling cartel. The crash and the clones' reaction were too much for that...but jedi were supposed to be intensely dedicated people...he wouldn't put it past them.

Well, Krae had a way to see just what game these people were playing.

He placed a hand on one of the crates. "These are going straight to an irritable pregnant Hutt to be carried to Seperatist forces struggling under the yolk of the Republic...that's right I'm running guns to guerillas and terrorists. Atleast that's what Coruscant calls them. They call themselves freedom fighters."

He watched for their reaction to that. He was by no means a die-hard Seperatist, but a few of them he met smuggling for them were alright-in his book atleast. well-atleast enough to see them as more than villain like that cybernitic monstrosity, General Grievous.

Ceridwyn Xoan & Cortez Krim

The Padawan and her master are tucked in the back of the cargo bay behind a wall of crates carefully shielded unless someone moves around the hold or knows exactly where to look. He did. Finding them in the hiding place Wyn had carved out for them he sees the Jedi Master for the first time. Cortez Krim is a tall man, more than six feet, strong even for a man in his sixties, but right now the olive skinned man is pallid and his breathes are shallow. He's worse off than Wyn is prepared to admit and holds onto him depleting her own strength in attempt to keep him alive determined to save him. Krim holds onto life, not because he fears death, but for Wyn his love and concern not to leave his Padawan alone. Still, the Jedi Master knows he won't survive and can feel himself slowly slipping away.

"What are you two still doing in here,"

Krae's gruff voice wakes Wyn with a start. She'd not been sleeping very deeply, but all the same her muscles tense as her eyes pop open and for a moment the usually calm Padawan looks startled before turning her attention to Master Krim, who does not stir, but his chest rises slowly and she can still sense him. Green eyes, who have seen too much in the last months, turn to the smuggler and before she speaks she pushes to her feet, wincing in pain, but trying to put forth a brave face.

"I don't understand," leaning against the wall she breathes a little heavy, "You said I could have use of the medical kit, which I have. I thought we'd be less intrusive if we remained here in the cargo hold. We'd be out your way....we don't need much...and you don't need worry about your precious cargo. I have no interest in what your smuggling."

Those last words may come as a shock and they even sound strange to Wyn; however, after today's events her only concerns are Master Krim and contacting the council. Perhaps as a Jedi her priorities should be different, but she can't see past the fact that the troopers they'd fought alongside for months suddenly turned on them today.


He placed a hand on one of the crates. "These are going straight to an irritable pregnant Hutt to be carried to Seperatist forces struggling under the yolk of the Republic...that's right I'm running guns to guerillas and terrorists. Atleast that's what Coruscant calls them. They call themselves freedom fighters."

Raising her brow, Wyn stares at the man, "Is that meant to shock me? It doesn't. Yes, they call themselves freedom fighters and perhaps some of them have their hearts in the right place. It's a shame they're being lead by a devious Sith lord who is using them all as his pawns to create dissent within the Republic and senate. The moment The Trade Federation joined Count Dooku and his cause this galaxy began to rip apart at the seams."

The young woman's voice never raises and remains as calm as ever though she does struggle to remain steadily standing, beads of sweat gathering at her hairline. "I'm sorry if I misunderstood you earlier. If you want us in the medical unit area then I will move my master and you can rest easy knowing that your shipment is safe from any sabotage. "

She slowly bends to kneel by Master Krim, but more or less drops to them about halfway down. The head injury must have been more severe than she thought, but with some time the dizziness should clear. She'd kept the area neat the medical kit packed up so there is not much to gather other than the injured man. "Master, I need to move you...to somewhere more comfortable."

Krim did not stir right away, in fact, even though he can hear Wyn his body is resistant to any movement. A soft groan leaves his lips as he tries to speak, but the meds from earlier have trapped him in a state of rest. The Padawan tries again to wake him, but there is little reaction. Glancing up to the man she knows her request will only make him more disgruntled, but if he wanted them out of his cargo hold he would have to help. "He's too far under I cannot wake him. If you want us out of the cargo hold I will need your help ...he's too heavy for me."

IC: Krae Jorann

"I don't understand, you said I could have use of the medical kit, which I have." She said looking at him as she leans against the wall a little woozy from her wound on her head. "I thought we'd be less intrusive if we remained here in the cargo hold. We'd be out your way....we don't need much...and you don't need worry about your precious cargo. I have no interest in what your smuggling."

"If you didn't want to be intrusive you shouldn't have snuck aboard my ship," he snapped at her, "All the same I rerouted life support a long time ago away from the cargo hold to save power. It won't be too much longer before this room becomes a meat locker. Unless you want to be a Jedicicle I suggest you come inside the ship."

He then told her just what the cargo was for.

"Is that meant to shock me? It doesn't. Yes, they call themselves freedom fighters and perhaps some of them have their hearts in the right place. It's a shame they're being lead by a devious Sith lord who is using them all as his pawns to create dissent within the Republic and senate. The moment The Trade Federation joined Count Dooku and his cause this galaxy began to rip apart at the seams."

"Sith lord," Krae laughed, "Come on, I read the history books. You Jedi wiped those Sith jerks out two or three thousand years ago on Rusan." He shook his head. "As for the galaxy ripping apart at the seams...maybe from Coruscant it's easy to think Gunray, Greivious, and Dooku bullied and lied to so many systems to get them to join up, but out here in the outer rim everybody knows the Republic is Core worlds first everyone else second. I don't blame the Confederacy for wanting an effective government that represents them."

"Not that I'm a Seperatist mind you," He shrugged, "I'm just a simple independent trader trying to make a living in the galaxy. I don't care who wins the war. Either Seperatist or Republic it'll make no difference to me. It'll just mean a change in the officials I have to bribe in order to do business."

She then tried to wake her master, but failed to. She looked back up at him saying, "He's too far under I cannot wake him. If you want us out of the cargo hold I will need your help ...he's too heavy for me."

"For the love of..." He said walking over to the unconscious Jedi master. He looked down at the wounded man remembering how his father looked after they got him out of prison, "This old-timer took quite a bit of damage. " He lifted him up in his arms saying to her, "Take his legs. we'll put him in my bunk. Beside the cargo hatch."

They carried him outside the cargo bay and laid the old man in Krae's small bed. He pulled his blanket over him.

He looked at the girl, "He needs more than just the first aid supplies here, but we'll have to go around the Kathol rift in a series of jumps. The first will be in an hour. In the meantime I was going to make some breakfast. You hungry?"

Ceridwyn Xoan & Master Krim

"If you didn't want to be intrusive you shouldn't have snuck aboard my ship," he snapped…

Wyn is beginning to feel a little tired of being yelled at, yes, she and her master are stowaways, however they were victims too and did that not account for anything? Then again their presence drew unnecessary attention to his ship, which could have ended badly. “Yes, again, I’m sorry.”

This man went on to laugh at the notion that Count Dooku is a Sith and further defends the Separatists. As a rule, politics were not the concern of the Jedi, but over the years Wyn has seen that rule blur as the Republic consistently called upon the Jedi to mediate and lead the clones into battle. Still, it is the decision of the Jedi council which has them serving the Republic. She reminds herself that more intimate details of Count Dooku would not be public knowledge especially that he is a Sith. Instead of offering her rebuttal Wyn allows him to have the last words, for now.

His response to her request for help is rightly predicted, but he helps her nonetheless. Picking up the medical kit, she uses the strap attached and hooks it on her shoulder before moving to Master Krim’s feet. His weight considerable even with help, but in this situation the Padawan can call on the Force for a little help without being obvious to her disgruntled host. When they lift the injured Jedi Master a flash of pain jolts through her body pursing her lips she struggles to keep a calm demeanor as the threat of tears prick her eyes. They move a little slow, but soon enough have him lying on a bed. Wyn stares at her Master, yes; he had taken a lot of damage and the smuggler’s initial reaction stated. At this moment she faces the harsh reality that he might not live.

"He needs more than just the first aid supplies here, but we'll have to go around the Kathol rift in a series of jumps. The first will be in an hour. In the meantime I was going to make some breakfast. You hungry?"

Yes, she silently agrees with a nod, he does need further medical assistance and she hopes between the first aid and the healing powers of the Force he’ll remain stable until she can get him the proper medical attention. Moving to Krim’s side Wyn smoothes her hand over his brow fingertips combing strands of hair into place those green eyes filled with concern. “Hold on…just a little while longer,” she speaks to him telepathically. The mention of food makes her stomach rumble and though she wants to stay by her master’s side she knows it will do no good if she continues to push herself without food or rest. Then again spending time alone with the smuggler isn’t exactly appealing either. “Yes, thank you.”

She responds softly as she turns away from Krim and follows the smuggler out of the small room moving through the ship to the galley. At first she shadows the doorway her left arm hugged to her side once more as it begins to ache, but she can feel the blaster wound begin to heal. Stepping just inside the galley she catches her reflection is a steel appliance and is caught off guard at how awful she looks, frowning her fingertips reach up trying to smooth her mass of hair to no avail, she needed a brush and to wash her face. Ignoring her appearance for the moment she looks to the smuggler.

“You said earlier that you don’t care which sides wins, but have you stopped to consider the consequences of a new government? You and your partner’s business might change beyond who you have to bribe. I know you don’t believe me in regard to Count Dooku, but I have no reason to mislead you,” Pausing for a moment to catch her breath Wyn gauges his reaction for a moment before continuing,” he was once a Jedi, a well respected and talented one, but he left the order and fell to the darkside. His meddling has caused nothing but discord and death. This war has strengthened and benefited the opportunists, for example, those guns you have in your cargo hold are helping to profit them.

“If Dooku wins and the Confederacy of Independent Systems establish themselves as a viable government I fear of what will become of the Outer Rim planets. The people at the top or at the dredges of society are profiting and vying for this independence, but what of the average family? The ones who are caught in the middle? The ones who are dying because the leaders of their world are too busy fighting this war to care about the state of the people? You may not care who wins, but I do, as does the Republic and the Jedi Order. We cannot allow a Sith to rise to power. The results would be catastrophic.” Leaning against the wall Wyn takes a couple of deep breathes, “I’m not defending the Republic as a perfect government. There are problems, yes, but democracy must prevail without it there is oppression and chaos, such as we’ve seen these several years. The fighting must stop –peace must be had.”

Again Wyn pauses her eyes shifting to stare past the smuggler and she says softly, “If you know your history as you say then you know a Sith in power is dangerous. If we lose to Dooku and Grievous the dark Jedi and Sith will rise and there will be a another war, one this galaxy does not want to see.”

Little do either of them know that Wyn’s worse fears have come true -- a Sith is in charge of the galaxy. Count Dooku and General Grievous are dead and the war has been declared over. Today’s attack by the clones on Master Krim and Padawan Xoan and all the other Jedi around the galaxy was a declaration - the extermination of the Jedi has begun. The Trade Federation leaders were all murdered by Anakin Skywalker who’s fallen to the darkside and become Darth Vader. Chancellor Palpatine is the Sith lord the council has been searching for and has declared himself Emperor. The Republic is a fallen government and a New Order has risen under the Galactic Empire. Life is about to become exceedingly difficult.

IC: Krae Jorann


Krae left her in his bunk as he crossed into the crew lounge and pulled out the rather unappetising dehydrated ration packs from the food storage unit. Breaded Nerf steak for Drue, Pufferbird egg omelettes for him, and what do you know that left only Goram wheat gruel for the Jedi. Well Jedi were supposed to deny themselves simple pleasures-or so he had heard about them. Unfortunately the omelettes and Nerf steak when rehydrated and heated would taste just the same as the wheat gruel. "Atleast she'll be getting the only one of the three breakfast options they had that was being honest."

He pulled the tabs on the packages and placed them on the table as they're liquid returned and the miniature heating units inside activated. He then turned to see her standing in the doorway holding an arm and nursing the russed hair she had sported since crashing. It was really the first time he had seen her acting...human.

Krae cleared his throat and offered her the now steaming bowl of gruel. "We don't have much, certainly not anything you're used to on Coruscant I'm sure."

She changed the subject saying, “You said earlier that you don’t care which sides wins, but have you stopped to consider the consequences of a new government? You and your partner’s business might change beyond who you have to bribe. I know you don’t believe me in regard to Count Dooku, but I have no reason to mislead you.”

"There will still be a need for us no matter who wins. The trade Federation can't take all the jobs there'll always be people who'll need cargo delivered at a fair price. Trade goes on no matter who says he's in charge of the kriffing galaxy. All that'll change is who I have to bribe and the red tape I have to sneak around to keep my ship in the air," He shrugged, "As for Dooku i don't doubt you about how big a kriffing jerk he is. Anyone who allows a monster like Grievous free reign like he has can't be a kriffing humanitarian."

"He was once a Jedi, a well respected and talented one, but he left the order and fell to the darkside. His meddling has caused nothing but discord and death. This war has strengthened and benefited the opportunists, for example, those guns you have in your cargo hold are helping to profit them."

"Sounds like its your problem not mine," Krae shrugged sitting down to begin eating his rather rubbery omelette, "I'm not interested in saving the galaxy. Only naive suckers like you Jedi think such a thing is possible, girlie, just eeking out enough credits out from under those oppurtunists to survive is the only thing I focus on."

“If Dooku wins and the Confederacy of Independent Systems establish themselves as a viable government I fear of what will become of the Outer Rim planets. The people at the top or at the dredges of society are profiting and vying for this independence, but what of the average family? The ones who are caught in the middle? The ones who are dying because the leaders of their world are too busy fighting this war to care about the state of the people?"

"Dooku, Palpatine, there'll be no difference if either win. The little people will still get stepped on, or caught in the middle as they squabble on who gets to sit on the throne and call himself ruler of everything. That's what happens to the little people in both war and afterwards. If they were smart they'd ditch their homes and grab a ship. The only true freedom and security is here in space." He shrugged remembering all of a sudden he had forgotten the drinks. He grabbed her and Drue bottles of Jawa juice pressing the button on the bottom that cooled it to a refreshing temperture. For himself he pulled out a flask of Lum. He felt he deserved after debating with this naive sanctimonious little Jedi.

"You may not care who wins, but I do, as does the Republic and the Jedi Order. We cannot allow a Sith to rise to power. The results would be catastrophic.”

He shook his head at that, "So you and the Republic step on the little people get them caught in the middle of this war as you prevent this ever so horrible Sith lord from taking over and stepping on them instead of you. How noble and heroic of the great Jedi order and their stooges in the paragon of government Republic."

“I’m not defending the Republic as a perfect government. There are problems, yes, but democracy must prevail without it there is oppression and chaos, such as we’ve seen these several years. The fighting must stop –peace must be had.”

"Democracy! In the Republic!" He laughed a full belly laugh at that straight at her, "Yeah, sure the democracy of whatever special interest group has large enough accounts on Muunlist to bribe some senators. The democracy where a sniveling little space slug like Viceroy Gunray can invade an innocent system like Naboo and only get a slap on the wrist for it. You have a strange idea of Democracy, girlie."

He took a long pull from his flask of Lum, "If you and the Republic really were concerned about being democratic you'd listen to your people and find they want their government to reform, to truly be a democracy for the first time in centuries, instead of labeling them all as Seperatists and forcing them into the Confederacy as a knee-jerk reaction to keep the powers-that-be in the Republic in power."

He leveled a finger at her then, "Mark my words, Jedi. The people are fed up with the Republic as it is now. The ones who've gotten up to do something about it are Seperatists now, but there's plenty of people right there on Coruscant who want their so called Democracy to change just as badly and will take it in whatever shape or name it comes in."

He took another swallow of his Lum, "Not that I care. It's just easier to see the truth when you're outside the problem."

__Ceridwyn Xoan & Master Krim__

Krae cleared his throat and offered her the now steaming bowl of gruel. "We don't have much, certainly not anything you're used to on Coruscant I'm sure."

Wyn looks down at the unappetizing food and says lightly, “Thank you. A warm meal is better than the energy rations we carry…even if they both likely taste similar.”

Taking a seat opposite of him she goes on to challenge him about his earlier expressed opinion, which sends him into a tirade of his own. Wyn listens patiently at first, picking at the wheat gruel, but as he becomes more condescending she becomes agitated. By the end of their debate Wyn looses her composure and snaps, “Clearly nothing is your problem and yet you have a rather strong opinion for someone who claims not to care.”

Shoving the wheat gruel away Wyn stands to her feet and looks at the man, realizing they didn’t even know each other’s names and thinking she preferred the anonymity. “I imagine it’s easy to judge while sitting on the sidelines and thinking you have it all figured out.”

The typically calm woman finds her emotions roused and annoyance buzzes throughout every inch as her voice continues to raise, “You may think I’m young and naïve, but you’re delusional thinking that you’re safe from the galaxy’s troubles traveling around in this contraption playing both sides to your advantage for a handful of credits that may or may not keep this bucket running.”

After taking shots at his ship the Padawan turns on her heel and quickly steps away fuming. The stress of the day had been a serious challenge and now the misery of failure weighs on her spirit. She meant to return to Master Krim’s side, but she couldn’t, not while her emotions are teetering between anger and distress. Instead, she seeks out the refresher and goes about cleaning the dirt from her face, cheeks flushed from the rise of emotion. Yanking the tie out her hair Wyn wets her hands with water and combs them through the tangled mass of chestnut hair, still favoring her left arm. Once the strands are less haphazard she gathers them back in low pony tail. There is little she can do about her clothes, but at least the dirt and the caked blood are cleaned away. Inspecting the lump along her hairline Wyn decides it’s not as bad as it looked previously. The distraction of cleaning up gives her time to calm down, but it also has her feeling ashamed for the way she acted. Shaking her head in disappointment she leaves the refresher and returns to Master Krim hoping to stay out of the way of the smuggler.

In the flurry of emotions Wyn hadn’t notice the deterioration of his health. She had been monitoring of him through their connection in the Force, but the argument with the smuggler had distracted her attention. Upon entering the bunk room Wyn pauses seeing the ashen figure of Cortez Krim, which tells the young woman he is slipping away. She can barely feel him, why had she left his side? She’d hardly eaten anything before arguing with the smuggler. Part of the Jedi code was to be free of attachment, but the human spirit is not always cooperative and in the case of Master Krim, Wyn had come to love him as her mentor, as her friend, as a father. Sitting carefully at the edge of the bed she takes up his hand within hers and squeezes gently, “Master?”

The dying man doesn’t stir, but his mind reaches out to Wyn, “Be at peace, Ceridwyn and let me go.”

Holding his hand tighter, tears prick her eyes and she suspects the pain and wooziness she’d felt earlier was partly a result of their connection and now she only feels cold, empty. “Master, if you can hold on just a little longer.”
“Peace, Wyn.” His voice in her head sounding farther away, a mere whisper, “You are strong and I am proud of the Jedi you’ve become. I know I was fonder of you than I should have been, I have no regrets; however I’m sorry if because of it this is more difficult. In time we will see each other again.”

Squeezing her eyes tight Wyn tries to hold back the tears and takes in a stunted breathe to ease the ache in her chest. The loss of her master and possibly the life she’s known has Wyn struggling to keep her composure. She’d already lost her temper once today she cannot allow a single bad day, no matter how distressing, to undo all that she has learned and trained. She knows she shouldn’t mourn his passing, but celebrate the life lived and that he now goes on to become one with the Force. She reminds herself of this as she sits beside Master Krim feeling his spirit slip away. A few tears streak down her cheeks unnoticed as Wyn manages a choked whisper, “Farewell, Master.”

After a few minutes Wyn leaves his side and sits on the floor beside the bunk leaning back against the wall she hugs her knees to her chest and rests her forehead forward. Ceridwyn Xoan has never felt alone, but after today, the Padawan is feeling very much alone. Falling into mediation she draws on the Force seeking solace and strength.

IC: Krae Jorann

"Not that I care. It's just easier to see the truth when you're outside the problem."

She sat there absently picking at her bowl of gruel as he spoke, “Clearly nothing is your problem and yet you have a rather strong opinion for someone who claims not to care.”

He frowned at that. "That's right I don't care, and so it isn't my problem." He said his voice rising.

“I imagine it’s easy to judge while sitting on the sidelines and thinking you have it all figured out.” She said her voice rising to match his, “You may think I’m young and naïve, but you’re delusional thinking that you’re safe from the galaxy’s troubles traveling around in this contraption playing both sides to your advantage for a handful of credits that may or may not keep this bucket running.”

"Hey," He fumed at her, "This 'bucket' is my home and if you feel that way about my ship you're fee to leave it." He pointed towards the airlock as he said so.

He and Drue had both referred to the Rising Star as a 'bucket' and much much worse, but stang that was diferrent. That was he and Drue not...not anybody else calling his ship a 'bucket'.

The jedi had stormed off then into the refresher leaving Krae alone in the crew lounge. He put down his flask of Lum on the table grimacing. Why did what she say rile him so much? He didn't care about the rest of the galaxy. Not one little bit. As long as he had his sister and his ship the galaxy could burn. But sithspit that Jedi had angered him.

He picked up Drue's breakfast and bottle of Jawa juice and headed into the cockpit.

The door slid open and Krae stared through the circular viewports of his ship to the most beautiful sight he had ever seen. Hyperspace, freedom.

Drue looked at him from her control station. "Just finished your diagnostic on the starboard power coupling and surprise surprise everything checked out."

He handed her breaded Nerfsteak and said, "Fine, once we reach Backend I'll look to get a corellian flow regulator and you can personally install it. That way when it goes south I can act so smug as you are about the KDY one this time around."

"And how's our Jedi passenger," Drue asked digging into the bland breakfast.

"In a word," Krae said archly, "She's smug, self-righteous, and naieve."

She arched an eyebrow at that, "She?"

"What," He said defensively, "It's not like that. Remember: smug, self-righteous and naieve."

"The first two could be good adjectives for yourself, Krae." Her eyebrow arched higher as she took a swallow of the Jawa juice.

"Hey," He said genuinely stung by her words, "I suppose she's pretty but really there's no chance...oh, wait your teasing me aren't you?"

She chuckled, "You fall for it every time, big brother."

"Oh, I'll get you back for that. Next time we visit Tatooine and you go see that pretty-boy cantina-owner who has eyes for you..." He began to chuckle ominously.

"Take your best shot," She said handing back the empty plate for him to return, "I'm gonna see if I can't reroute around the flow regulator, maybe if we can go around the thing we'll start getting reliable power flow for a change."

He left and put his plate and Drue's and the waste reclamators. He then put up his flask of Lum. That left the Jedi's breakfast. Where on his ship was she anyway?

He looked around and finally found her curled up against bulkhead of the crew quarters. The door to his bunk left open. Krae enetered and checked the older Jedi. He had no pulse and he wasn't breathing. Krae placed his fingertips over the old-timer's eyelids and closed them. Then he pulled the blanket over the body.

"Wherever Jedi go or wherever anybody goes when they buy it old man, I hope you find peace there."

He stepped out of his room and looked down at the padawan. She had her eyes closed and breathing lightly but regularly. Somehow though he didn't think she was asleep. He looked at her for awhile trying to figure out what he should do about her now.

He should go. It wasn't his concern he had only met the man for a few minutes and the padawan had insulted him and his ship, but he just couldn't leave her. Not now. He didn't care, but he wasn't an unfeeling monster either. So he sat down next to her and just was there for her.

Ceridwyn Xoan

There is peace and serenity in the Force. While Ceridwyn meditates calmness soothes the crushing ache in her chest. Today had been one long trial, attacked by the clone troopers, fighting off Separatists, stowing away on a smuggler’s ship to try and save their lives, but it was too much for Master Krim to survive. Then there is the male smuggler an abrasive, smug, know-it-all who professes indifference and only cares himself and, she assumes, his partner; however if it suited him would he sell her out too?

It’s not as if she’s never debated with another living soul, but she always managed to keep her calm, this man’s opinions rankled her and she raised her voice, felt the heat of anger. She walked away after insulting his ship and soon felt the regret of those words. The loss of her master broke apart of her spirit, a small piece of herself died with him and she questions what is next.

Seeking the Force for guidance she sees no answer there is something dark clouding the future, so she hopes when she is able to contact Coruscant there will be answers. The plan now shifts – she needs to lay Master Krim to rest though a proper memorial may not be practical, so how does one go about disposing of a body? The flesh was only the shell of the spirit within, but the logical thought feels callous, especially for the man she’d known since she was a youngling. Next, she will have to arrange for a transport to come get her once the smugglers reach their destination. She could survive for a few days on her own, after all, she was practically a Jedi, not mention she was twenty-two years old.

The sound of footsteps walking by does not go unnoticed nor does the lingering presence of the smuggler. What did he want? To yell at her for what she said early? If she doesn’t acknowledge his presence maybe he’ll go away, but he doesn’t, instead he sits down beside her. This act of compassion surprises Ceridwyn perhaps she judged him too harshly maybe there is something more beneath the abrasive surface. She remains still for several seconds longer before taking in a deep breath and as she lets it out her eyes blink open; however she doesn’t look at him. Leaning her head back those green eyes raise to the ceiling and she says softly, “I shouldn’t have called your ship a bucket, I was angry, I’m sorry.”

It was a beginning to a possible truce between them though how long it’ll hold is yet to be determined because she has more to ask of this stranger and he never asked, definitely didn’t want, to be imposed on. “I know I have encroached on your life, but if you can tolerate me a little longer…I don’t know what to do with his -- Master Krim’s body…there… is no time nor is it practical have a proper memorial.”

Her voice cracks on the last half of the sentence showing more emotion than is typical for a Jedi. Drawing in a deep breath Ceridwyn calms the threatening onslaught of emotions; it is disappointing she thinks how one bad day has frayed so many years of training. Then again, Master Krim had been passionate in his way and had never been severe on his Padawan’s expressing their emotions – he taught them to face their emotions and find a way to use them to benefit the situation. It’d been a radical teaching and frown upon by the council.

“This is the last thing I’ll ask of you.” A promise present in her soft spoken voice, “Once we’ve reached your destination you’ll be rid of me.”

IC: Krae Jorann

Taking a breath she blinks before turning her head to look up to the ceiling. “I shouldn’t have called your ship a bucket, I was angry, I’m sorry.”

He shrugged, "You're right though-it is a bucket, but it never lets me down-well not usually."

“I know I have encroached on your life, but if you can tolerate me a little longer…I don’t know what to do with his -- Master Krim’s body…there… is no time nor is it practical have a proper memorial.”

"I don't know what's customary for Jedi," He told her, "We could do a spacer's funeral, but only after we get around the Kathol rift. I don't really put alot of stock in the spooky ghost stories about the place, but just in case right?"

“This is the last thing I’ll ask of you.” She said, “Once we’ve reached your destination you’ll be rid of me.”

"Fine," He said rising and stretching out his aching back. Most people when greiving sat on chairs or something comfortable she had to pick a cold hard bulkhead that he really hadn't kept as clean as often as he should have, "Let's say its a truce between us, no more war, no more politics, no more arguing. Right from scratch." He held out a hand to her, "Hello, my name is Krae Jorann, I own and Captain this bucket."

Ceridwyn Xoan

"I don't know what's customary for Jedi," He told her, "We could do a spacer's funeral, but only after we get around the Kathol rift. I don't really put a lot of stock in the spooky ghost stories about the place, but just in case right?"

A small smile crosses Ceridwyn’s lips, “Yes, better safe than sorry…after all, this is your home you wouldn't want to jeopardize its safety. I think a spacer’s funeral will suffice.”

Ceridwyn wonders how long it will be till they reach their destination. She still feels a shaken from earlier today, but her injuries are healing and there is only a dull ache in her head. Shifting her gaze she watches him stand up, and smiles just a little more as he arches his back, he really didn’t have to sit on the hard, cold durasteel floor, but he had.

"Let's say its a truce between us, no more war, no more politics, no more arguing. Right from scratch." He held out a hand to her, "Hello, my name is Krae Jorann, I own and Captain this bucket."

Raising her brow as he holds out his hand to her, Ceridwyn not wanting to be rude pushes up to her feet and notices he’s rather tall compared to her four inches over five feet. Reaching out slender fingers wrap around his hand, “Hello, Krae it’s good to meet you. I’m Ceridwyn Xoan. Master Krim always called me Wyn, if you find that easier.”

Releasing his hand Ceridwyn leans against the bulkhead, “So, what is a spacer’s funeral?”

IC: Krae Jorann

She rose up to her feet before taking his hand, “Hello, Krae it’s good to meet you. I’m Ceridwyn Xoan. Master Krim always called me Wyn, if you find that easier.”

He shook her hand firmly. "Nice to meet you."

He let go of her hand and they stood there for a long awkward moment with nothing to say to eachother.

She leans against the bulkhead wall and asks, “So, what is a spacer’s funeral?”

"Well," He laughed a little nervously at that, "We get close to a star, but not too close, and launch his body out the airlock towards it. Of course it'll burn up before it ever reaches the star itself, but that's pretty much it. It's supposed to be returning the spacer to where he spent all the years and dreams of his life-you know-out among the stars. If I had a say in it that's how I'd want to go too. Not buried under some dirt somewhere to rot."

He shrugged, "I suppose you're the closest thing that qualifies to next of kin for the guy so the say is yours there. How would he wish for us to deal with...with his remains?"

Then the Ship shuddered and Drue's voice came over the intercom, "Krae we're out of lightspeed at the transfer point."

He walked over to the speaker and pressed the transmit button, "I'm on my way." He turned to Wyn, "Here's your chance to contact your temple. Come on."

They walked into the cockpit and he introduced his sister to the Jedi before motioning for her to sit in the chair beside the Comm console. "The Holocomm is the one top-notch upgrade we've put in this bucket that works perfectly as advertised in this 'bucket'."

"Wait," Drue said looking at Wyn then back to Krae, "She called our ship a bucket didn't she, and you didn't give her a black eye?"

"She's already apologized for that, Drue," Krae told her as he sat in the copilot's chair.

"It's just that everybody calls the Star a 'bucket' never even 'a peice of junk' before I punch them in the face it's always a 'bucket'. The Star's not even vaguely bucket shaped, Krae."

"I know, I know," He said leveling a hand between them, "I said she apologized didn't I?"

He looked out the viewport at the pinkish-purple gas cloud of the Kathol rift. It was a vast sector spanning Stellar nursery with an ominous spooky history that went back for millenia of spacers getting lost and people reporting strange and scary occurences happening within it. Which was why the Rising Star was going to go around it.

"The rift drifted point two degrees to galactic north by northwest. We're going to have to recalculate the jump from scratch."

"Terrific," Krae glowered erasing all his carefully planned astrogation calculations he had already logged into the navicomp.

"Wouldn't it be great to have that Astro Droid right now," Drue said casting him a glare.

"That R-5 unit had a bad motivater that kept blowing up whenever it went further than seven meters. Besides I fleeced those jawas we sold it to good. You didn't complain when we used the money to buy food for a month."

"I liked Red," Drue scowled, "That little droid was a good listener."

"And I'm sure whatever moisture farmer those Jawas con him off on will think so too," He laughed as he began to recalculate his jump vector ro Backend, "As long as they don't ask him to go anywhere further away than seven meters."

"Krae," Drue said looking over to his figures, "Don't forget to carry the two. With the grav-gradient fluctuating so much this close to the rift the star will wind up a bucket for real if you don't pay attention to your figures."

"Stang," He growled erasing his figures again and beginning all over. He looked over his shoulder to the Jedi, "You get Coruscant yet? This close to the Rift the connection will be spotty."