Years From Now...

[Senator Prent]

"I'd bet on the latter." I spoke out the side of my mouth.

The little heir to my dynasty was turning out to be marginally as much of a troublemaker as I was as a Nar Shadaa street rat. Fortunately the media found little Ledo's antics to be cute and endearing. I could only imagine the future in store for us if he went out on drunken benders with scandalous women. Do as I say, not as I once did.

"Okay we're on in five...four...three..." The stage manager counted the rest of the cadence with hand gestures, and I turned back to face the holorecorder, smiling cordially.

The applause sign lit up, and the live audience gave us a warm greeting. Raz smiled back at them, fiddling with a pen at his desk as he spoke to the crowd.

"Well my next guest does most of the introducing for himself. Former General of the Rebel Alliance, Senator, and now working on a second term, please welcome Sanis Prent."

I gave the crowd a smile as the applause intensified.

"Glad to be here, Raz."

"And who is this lovely lady you've brought with you?"

"Raz, this is my better half - Loklorien."

The applause resumed. The people had a very keen understanding and appreciation for the Knights of the Alliance.

"We're honored to have you on the show, Master s'Ilancy-Prent. Hope it didn't take too many mind tricks to get out of the Temple for an evening?"

[Master s'Ilancy-Prent]

With an amiable smile, Lok gave a shake of her head. "It was no trouble at all."

She still couldn't shake the feeling, but kept any signs from her expression. She knew it wasn't Ledo; her previous words had been more to try and make light of the ill feelings she had. Her and Sanis' son might be on the road to being his father's boy in spades, but he had never done anything to make her feel this way.

If I can feel it, the others can too. The council will be meeting...

[Senator Prent]

Raz smiled at the Master's reply.

"Does this mean that you're staking an endorsement on your husband's re-election bid?"

I'd seen that kind of baited question coming, and I dismissed it with a polite laugh.

"I once walked out of the house with a mismatched tie and my shoes on the wrong feet. She's my insurance policy. Besides, I don't ever know if I'll have her vote. Depends on if I clean the dishes, usually."

The audience laughed a bit at that, and I figured it was enough to deflect that line of questioning.

"The real reason I wanted to bring her here is a multi-partisan effort to improve the Outer Rim Humanitarian Project. I think its something we can all agree on. Even Kosh Brannag and the Phoenix Party have put up large donations in the past, and the Jedi have always made anti-poverty outreach a major focus of their effort.

I grew up on occupied Nar Shadaa, and I have seen first hand the real needs that often go unmet on the Rim. Lack of adequate education, even sometimes basics like food and water. Resources that the Core and Middle Rim take for granted, and I think that on Endor Day, it's a good idea to look at how far we've come, and how much further we've yet to go."

[Master Krogen]

The Enclave was abuzz. Everywhere there were people rushing around as their internal warning systems told them something was wrong. But these were Jedi, not morales politicians. When Jedi ran scared, they hid their fears and bottled it down, allowing the force to comfort them as their anxieties ran high. But there was still a feeling of panic as the Jedi, especially the knights, tried to make their way to the council chambers to see the Jedi Council for answers to the question they were all thinking: What is happening?

But there was an obstacle that kept them all from entering the council chambers, and that was Jedi Master Kyle Krogen. They all stopped dead in their tracks when they saw the Jedi Master in his frayed gray robe, his hands hanging loosely at his sides, and his blue eyes set like stone. Of course, all their gazes were always drown down to the cold metal of the mechanical fingers of his left hand. He had lost all his fingers on that hand while captive by the Imperial Inquisition, and only by a freak chain of events had he been able to escape from that slaughter house before being killed. Yet, it was not just the hand that frightened these Jedi. It was the stories. Kyle had worked closely with the Rebel Alliance through the years up till today, working at first as an undercover operative and then filling the position of war commander in the campaign against the Empire. Stories, some true, some false, had spread. Stories that depicted him as a brutal warrior on the battlefield that butchered Imperials with hesitation and without mercy. There were even stories that he'd attacked Imperial Settlements along the fringes of space, killing everyone, man, woman, and child. All the stories had a grain of truth in them, but they were all exaggerated, as all stories become over time, but that did not stop these Jedi from being afraid of him.

His message was clear: No one was entering the Council Chambers, save the council themselves. Several had already entered and become seated within, but Kyle would remain outside till the rest were gathered, so that he may seal the door behind them. Even as an active member of the Republic military, he was also one of the heads of security for the Enclave. He had the passcodes that would seal the door and allow none to enter.

But not until all the council is assembled.

He had also felt the troubling feelings of terror and pain that seemed to emanate from somewhere coreward. Kyle was, and has always been, more attuned to the balance of light and darkness then the average Jedi, and he could feel the balance tipping toward darkness, again for one of many times it had done so in his lifetime. The feeling sent chills down his spine, but he held himself up, make himself look strong, despite the questionable fears that where running rampant through his body. He had to look strong for the padawans, he always had to look strong. How it would break moral if the padawans, who revered him as some kind of living legend, saw him break down?

No. He had to be strong, again. If not for them, then for himself.

[Master Laran]

In one of the empty seats of the Council circle a hologram flickered to life. Serena Laran adjusted her robes as she sat comfortably in her ship, Serenity. Not the original Serenity, as she'd lost the Old Republic ship fifteen years past while escaping the Inquisition in the deep Core, but a retrofitted light freighter with the same name.

Master Laran was usually seen in pristine white and tan robes, but one would tell through the fuzzy holocam transmission that the robes she was wearing now were a little frayed and dirty. She was in the deep Core again, working with a resistance on Chandila helping to get a small knot of adepts out of Imperial territory.

She heard Daria's words, and nodded. "There have been many rumors about Coruscant here in the Core. Cannabalistic crazy people running amuck in the Taapes district. Some of the rumors have the entire planet killed by a biological weapon of the Alliance."

Serena folded her hands, her long red hair streaked with thick bands of white. "I did not put much faith in these, though I have felt there was some truth in both of them. But I called this meeting of the Council because something happened that made my doubts go away.

"A transport from Coruscant arrived in the capitol city of Chandrila yesterday. A Gran carrying the virus was on board. I have seen its affects first hand, and there can be no doubt that the galaxy faces a dire threat." She closed her eyes for a moment. "Padawan Belargic will be arriving shortly with much the same news, I feel."

[Teagan Staedtler]

So very much unlike her mother had been at this age, Teagan struck out into the populace of Cloud City with wild abandon; Mac would catch up, she knew that much. He had as good a nose as she did, and the two had never had any trouble finding one another in crowded places. Crystal blue eyes tracked to either side, taking in the mass of people around her, and her nose and ears picked apart smell and sound.

Hefting her pack up on her shoulder just a bit more, the Lupine barreled through a clump of Rodians. At twenty-six, she enjoyed what traveling she could get. With a mother on the Jedi Council and a step-father who was a politician, there were times when things got particularly drab. And the bad part about it? It never used to be like that. Back in the day, she and her mother traveled with Sanis, going from planet to planet and system to system. There was always something happening, and never any need to dress up for holocams.

Which was why she stuck as close to Mac Ravenwing as she could; well, that wasn't the only reason. Teagan smirked. Yeah he was almost seven years younger, but Sanis was only half her mother's age, and that didn't stop the two from marrying. What was seven years compared to twenty?

Turning to look behind her, she caught his scent on a breeze. It was full and robust, with a hint of something more primal. So unlike that of Ledo's. But then again, her little brother was Losstarot, and Mac was Loveloxx.

[Rev Solomon]

Master Solomon met Serena's eyes - or at least, their holographic likeness. His dark brow was creased with concern.

"The groaning of the Force is too great for this to be an isolated case. If this is the disturbance we've been sensing, we might have a pandemic on our hands."

In many ways, he felt out-of-place on the council - in his mind, he'd never stopped being that country preacher on the Dantooine frontier circuit. His skills in the Force were broader than many of his colleagues', the result of formal training under a Jedi Warrior before the Purge combined with practical experience as a negotiator, spiritual leader, and healer. But each of his fellow councilors outstripped him in their own areas of specialty - Loklorien's combat skills, Daria's sensitivity, Serena's healing and empathic abilities.

But Solomon's versatility had left him equipped as a natural mediator. Once called upon as a holy man to settle arguments between landowners and nerf-herders, he now found himself thrust into disputes among politicians, religious leaders, military officials, even occasionally his fellow Jedi. His calm and gentle demeanor always seemed to have a cooling effect on heated debates, and his devotion to the Faith as well as the order led him to consider angles others sometimes overlooked.

But when a crisis of this magnitude came along, he couldn't help but feel overwhelmed and inadequate. O Lord, forgive! How can Israel withstand your judgment? He is so small!

"It seems to me there's little we can do until we have more information - if it is a virus, how is it transmitted? Can we contain it, or is Chandrilla already infected? We need to find a way to get a sample of this contagion to Alliance medical."

[Senator Prent]

The Zeltron host nodded in understanding at my call to support the ORHP.

"Humanitarian relief has been a major talking point all through your freshman term in the Senate. You co-sponsored two bills with the Chandrilan Bloc to forgive war spending debts, and made some enemies with the Mon Calamari and the Phoenix Party. With the latest war spending bill about to hit the senate floor, how does that change things?"

I took a sip of water on the desk and thought about the question for a second.

"We've been living too long in a siege mentality, and there are a lot of people very concerned about losing what we've worked hard to establish. I just want to be a voice of reason before we approve any more missile starships for the navy. We've gone how many years without a major shooting incident? We're as close to peace in the galaxy as we've been in a lifetime, and I think it's time that we started giving more of our attention to matters away from war."

Raz had more for me, I was sure. The Zeltron's hue changed a bit and he continued.

"You yourself led no fewer than twelve missions against the Empire, and your war credentials are certainly spoken for. What makes a war hero like yourself think about turning the other cheek?"

It was a pretty fair question, and I squeezed Lok's hand for comfort.

"True, I did my share of fighting. A lot of us did. I don't like to hang my coat on any war hero label, because I was a guy in a ship who was trying to do the right thing and survive. Now I'm a guy in a suit doing the same thing. We can win this thing a lot of ways, and not all of them involve guns. That's a luxury we just didn't have when I was a young man."

Raz and the audience seemed very at ease with my comments, and I was happy with how the interview was going.

"We'll have more from Senator Prent and Master s'Ilancy-Prent after these short messages, don't go away."

And the cam was cut. I took another drink of water, smiled to Raz, and looked back to s'Il, giving her a quick kiss.

"You're wonderful. They love you."

[Lord Inquisitor Valten]

“DAMN IT…” Lines of Imperial soldiers swarmed through the thick quagmire of what was once a pristine district of the capitol. Thousands of stormtroopers and army regulars set up heavy street blockades and manned heavy weapon emplacements. In the air gunships and military speeders patrolled the passages out. And beyond…the city burned. Screaming and shouts of rage echoed for kilometers.

“…Gamma platoon, get your fraking selves over to the Sector 10 blockade.” Everyone cowered before the angry woman shouting orders left and right. If not for the fact that she stood over two meters tall in heavy power armor, than for whom she represented.

Marshall-Inquisitor Naomi Scothis was not pleased. This had been a simple event. But of course the softies couldn’t even follow their fraking orders and now the whole planet was going to hell.

There wasn’t supposed to be direct involvement, just see what the damn things could do, unfortunately most of the army was made of idiots. A good half dozen bodies of Imperial officers littered the ground, hacked to pieces.

The dark-haired woman leaned against a massive halberd still slick with blood. A retinue of black-clad retainers followed her close behind. Their armor crafted in the image of hellspawned demons of ancient lore.

“By order of the Crusade Doctrine, I am taking command here.” She glanced down at once of her lieutenants, a warlock of the Imperial Mages. “I want you to take over the defense here.”

Heavy booted steps resonated on the ferrocrete as she began moving away. In the distant a high pitched sound grew ever louder. The fearful eyes of Imperial soldiers cast upwards as countless dozens of dots swam into focus through the have.

Inquisitorial gunships carry the dread death-troopers of the Imperium.

The female Inquisitor hefted her gargantuan polearm in set the autofeeder into action on her wrist-mounted blaster.

“Bren’lar, dear, if you’re not here in ten minutes, I’m going to burn these creatures by myself.”

[Clea Darkrunner]

She had come here to claim her inheritance from the recording company.

Her mother had been shot here two weeks prior by what had been officially been called a distraught fan. She had, as usual, left Sharra with her governess on the quiet planet of Dantooine, one of the backwaters of the galaxy. "It's for your safety, dear," she had said as usual.

Safety? Hadn't Clea taught Sharra to handle herself? She could get her target 49 times out of 50 on the range, and she was VERY good at the Force skills her mother had been nagged into teaching her.

The raging mob had shown Clea's daughter that there was a difference between a range and reality, and her common sense told her that it wasn't wise to display her Talents on an Imperial world.

Now she cowered in her hotel room, shaking and terrified. Madam Stuyverstant had been torn to pieces by the flash-fired mob as they exited the aircar, and only the best efforts of hotel security had been able to hold back the - lunatics - long enough for Sharra Darkrunner to get inside.

The room comm only repeated warnings for guests to stay in their rooms with the doors locked. Sharra definitely didn't want to leave. But the door had been locked for two days, and she was getting hungry. There was no room service...... maybe there was some way to sneak down to the kitchen?

[Bryna Belargic]

Once Navaria had arrived at a holo-emitter and keyed in her personal identification code, an image of her Padawan flickered to life. Bryna was sitting in the cockpit of a ship, looking more than a little flustered.

“Master Tarkin.”

She bowed her head, her words somewhat breathless.

“I have an important message from Alliance Intelligence. The Director has received word that a virus of some kind has broken out on Coruscant and is spreading at an alarming rate, driving the population into frenzy... the Imperials are just killing anyone they suspect to be infected!”

[Executor Van-Derveld]

The video-screen crackled with static. The feed blinked, then refocused onto another image. A cycle began, glimpses into many areas of Imperial City. Though at first the images remained on screen for some time, soon they began to change at a quicker speed, until each snapshot of chaos was displayed for only a second, not even a ghost image left behind. Lit only by the glow of the screen, pale lips smiled.

beepbeep...beepbeep...

A frown. Attention drawn away from the spectacle, one gloved hand approved the incoming transmission: “Governor Zh'far on channel 1.”

The line hung, alive, sounds of the video-feed filtering through to the other end as staccato fragments of yelps and grunts. Moments passed and at last the connection to the Governor of Coruscant was confirmed.

“Van-Derveld! What is the-” Zh'far's voice barked.

“Governor Zh'far...”

The metallic voice of Executor Vega Van-Derveld cut through the Governor's words like a butchers blade.

“I would appreciate it if you would make this conversation as brief as possible. I am very busy.”

Silently, the Governor fumed. The artificial monotone in which the Executor spoke was so calm and free of nuance's, so at odds with Zh'far's own manic state of mind, that he wished he could reach through the communication line and strangle the leathery old bastard. This fantasy was dismissed as quickly as it had come to mind, as the Governor was gripped by the sudden irrational paranoia that the Executor might somehow sense his murderous thoughts.

“Very busy? Yes, we have all noticed how very busy you are – sabotaging our laboratories!”

“Your laboratories?” Van-Derveld arched one leathery brow, his skin straining against the body suit that encased it, held it together. Though he now had blood of Lupine heritage in him, it did not course through his veins. In fact, it did not so much as trickle through them without artificial aide – his own heart having long since given up its steady rhythm. His body had become a mass of technology, designed by engineers from every corner of the known Galaxy. Many designers had made their names on being able to say that they provided part of the mechanism that kept the Executor alive. He was an exercise in bio-engineering taken to its limits.

“Those laboratories are mine,” the Executor continued, with finality. “The Morbus Project is mine.”

“Do not be unreasonable, Lord Van-Derveld. What you have done is-”

“What I have done,” Vega repeated. Though the voice-box through which Van-Derveld spoke provided no emotional inclination to his words, his face had become twisted in indignation. His interest in the galactic stalemate exhausted, Vega had taken matters into his own hands.

“What I have done... is what you lacked the conviction and courage to do yourself, Governor Zh'far. Coruscant is only the beginning.”

[Master Henning]

On the set of Raz Shandin talk-show, something began to beep.

The sound was coming from the folds of Jedi Master s'Ilancy-Prent's robes, where a small communication device was flashing red. The gadget was one carried solely by Jedi and whilst to the untrained eye it would have appeared that the communicator was unremarkable, the very fact that it was beeping meant that whoever was trying to contact Lok had a very important message.

[Master s'Ilancy-Prent]

Thank the Bloodline...

Whether it was that she had been called during a commercial break, or simply called period was anyone's guess; either way she was thankful for it. An apologetic nod was given to Shandin, and a pat to Sanis' hand as she stood.

"If you would excuse me," she said quietly.

Backstage, the Lupine moved to as secluded an area as she could find, pulling the comm from her robes.

"Yes?"

[Master Henning]

“Lok! Thank the Force,” the voice on the other end of the line sighed.

Unable to establish a connection with the main Enclave on Vortex, Jedi Master Barton Henning had resorted to activating an open frequency that would register with any other Jedi communicators in range. Barton's voice trembled, due to technical difficulty rather than his own anxiety.

“Something terrible has happened on Coruscant. There's been... an outbreak of some kind, a contagion that's driving the population into some kind of aggressive frenzy. The Imperium are out in full force, slaughtering anyone who stands in their way. I tried to help, when I thought it was an isolated case, but...”

The sound of the transmission was suddenly jagged.

“... been bitten... managed to get to safe-house... Eastport...”

Abruptly, the connection severed.

[Master s'Ilancy-Prent]

She'd had no time to respond, only listen to the voice on the other end. Barton...

His words were jumbled, and she did her best to piece it all together. This is what I felt, she thought with dreaded finality. That dark cloud in the back of her mind, the angry, underlying tremors through the Force... the muscles of her jaw tightened visibly as the haze partially lifted. Barton's words painted a terrifying picture, and for a few moments after his connection had so suddenly stopped, the Lupine stood rooted.

She was as a statue, staring straight ahead, reaching out with her thoughts as far as she could. Pulling in a deep breath, Lok allowed her eyes to glaze over.

There.

She could see it; see the Force. See it shaking, rippling, and swirling like a volcano ready to burst forth. Its' color throbbed with pent up anguish, and she let out a hiss between her teeth.

An intern passed by, and she reached out with a quick hand. "You."

The poor boy dropped the caf he'd been delivering, thoroughly startled.

"I need a private conference room. Take me to one; now."

[Rhianna Evanar]

Rhianna made her way to her seat. She sank to the cushion, tucking her feet up cross-legged beneath the folds of her robe. From the moment she had awoken, she had known that the coming events would not be pleasant. She hadn't felt a shadow hang as heavy in the air in many years. The space around her was charged with brittle warning.

She listened to the other voices of the Council. Silently she agreed with Master Nytherciria, nodding slowly. She too felt the pull to the Core. Fear.. Pain.. Anger.. Darkness.. She did not know the catalyst, but she could feel the effects. It was not open war, it was chaos.

Rhianna's empathic abilities generally centered around innocents. It was how she had become the instructor of many younglings. She had a way with children, particularly. Now she felt the call of lost children, terror stricken and in pain. She felt her resolve harden to steel.

The appearance of Master Laran and her grim tidings did little to relieve Rhianna's worry. Her eyes glanced over to Morgan, but then flicked to the Council Room doors, Master Tarkin was coming..

[Master Laran]

Serena's holographic eyes met Solomon's, and she smiled. Old friend, be strong. "It appears to be transmitted through the saliva of the infected. The humans who have been in contact with ... the things... that came off of the transport have disturbing cannabalistic tendencies. I am not completely certain at this point, however, as I have been limiting my contact with those carrying the disease.

"I have not much more time with you, my friends, as I must tend for the ones I came here to bring out. But I will study this virus and see what can be done to stop it. I am trapped inside Hanna City - the entire capitol has been cordoned off and no one is allowed to leave until they have cleansed out the infected.

"There is panic in the streets, though the virus is not widespread as of yet. Anyone trying to leave via ship has been destroyed by the ISD in orbit above the city." Serena did not allow any of the other Council members a word in edgewise, as she saw that her ships power was fluctuating and she did not know when the connection might disappear. "Do not worry about me, I trust you will all make the decisions that must be made in the coming hours."

Her hologram brushed a few loose strands of hair from her face. "I plan to wait out this infection on my ship, with the young adepts I came here for in the first place." She didn't mention that since the first case of the virus had arrived on a transport, the spaceport was ground zero. Even if the infected wandering the 'port ignored the freighter (they were running on as low power as possible) once the Imperials moved in to cleanse the area the Jedi ran a very high risk of being discovered.

She and her young charges.

The sixty-five year old woman folded her hands in her lap again, adding, "I realize this is a great deal of information my friends." The hologram flickered, but remained in place as silence descended on the Council Chambers. Serena waited to see who would speak next. She would keep the connection open as long as she could.

[Master s'Ilancy-Prent]

In the quiet after Serena's words, the empty seat beside the aging Jedi's flickered to life. Lok's form, that familiar translucent blue, blinked into existance.

Master s'Ilancy-Prent said nothing as she got her bearings, looking to see who was present and who was yet to arrive. It'd been easy to procur a recorder from one of the aides, and sequestered in a back conference room at the studio, she'd given the order for no one to disturb her.

Folding her hands into her lap, she bit her lower lip - Barton's voice still ringing in her ears.

The Lupine lifted her eyes then, as the doors to the Council Chambers opened.

[Navaria Tarkin]

Something dark was coming, something big, but it remained elusive by even the most skilled Jedi seer. Rhianna and her dearest Daria could barely scrape the edges of the continuously threading future to gain any insight to where this new threat was coming from.

Now it was here and Navaria felt the unmistakable warning within the Force that the rest of the Council could sense too.

"Say no more." She spoke with strength to help calm her somewhat frazzled Apprentice. Bryna was a very confident and outspoken young Jedi, but much like her father, sometimes her emotions directed her behavior. "I'm going to redirect this transmission to the Council Chambers so you can speak of what you learned to all of us."

A few clicks of the touch screen and the Jedi Master made her way towards the Council Chambers. Master Krogen was diligently guarding the entrance and abating questions, but they were soon directed towards her when the Jedi Knights assembled spotted her.

"Master Tarkin! What's going on?"

"... Has the Council ..."

"... a great disturbance in the Force ..."

"What are we going to do?"

Navaria was halfway through them when she stopped suddenly. "Jedi, please." Her voice was sharp and stern, but lacked the scolding of a school teacher. Instead it projected attention and calm that began to hush their fears. Slowly her head turned around as the hood to her robes fell. "The Council has felt the same disturbance and are discussing its meaning currently. Until then, you all must be patient and trust in the will of the Force. Understood?"

Murmurs of agreement spread amongst them. "Good. Now if you'll excuse me. The Council has waited for me long enough."

She nodded to Master Krogen as he opened the door and stepped inside. Not surprising, the eyes of the Council were upon her.

"Apologies for being late," she said as the doors closed behind her. "But I had good reason."

The Jedi Master stepped up and cued up the holoimage of her Padawan, and Bryna's face shimmered into life. "Tell them what you have learned Bryna. Everything."