Bon looked to Jebbua, his face lighting up.

“You have friends?” he said. “Man, you gotta tell me what that’s like, man! I’ve always wanted friends, man, but they just don’t grow on trees, you know? Well, unless you’re on the veggie planet, but hey, man, that’s another story.”

Bon walked over to the case and waved his wands in the air around it.

“This is it, man, this is the answer. Found months ago by a team in the fringes, man, looking for ways to fight the oppressors. Oh sure, you look at it and say ‘man, it’s just a box’ but I tell you, it’s more than just a box. It’s what’s in the box, man. It’s a book, man, a book. But it’s got words that nobody here knows, it’s got letters that defy geometry. It’s got pictures or things that would blow your mind. And it’s old old old, so old that olds doesn’t begin to describe it. But the pictures, man, those are the things. Ships, man, ships!”

Bon took a deep breath, holding it for dramatic pause.

“But it’s got something new, too, man. It’s got new sheets of paper in it, with hand written notes. It was found on a planet, man, way out there where nobody goes. And the damnest thing is, man, that the goofball who found this and brought it to me forgot to log where the heck he was, and then he got himself killed before we could help him remember. So here we got a book with pictures of far out ships, things that could fight the oppressors, man! And we got notes from someone who studied this crap, man. But we got no location, and we got no person to go with the notes, and the notes are all coded, man. All we got is the box it got found in, man, charred like from a ship dusting off.”

Bon walked back to the other two men.

“Yeah, so it’s like this guy had this box, but left that planet in such a hurry that he left that box behind, then blasted off in some old ship that really charred up that box. There’s a piece of ID tag left, but most of it is ruined, man. All we can make out is this:”

Bon grabbed a tablet from the desk next to him and drew out a very close representation of the ruined tag. On it he wrote the letters “DANTARE”.

"Hmm. I don't know who that could be. But you say ships. What kind of ships are we talking about? Big, small, and how many? Lots of them or just a couple? Besides, if we find these ships who is going to pilot them all. I'm fairly good, but I can only pilot one. And if all these guys can pilot as well as they can fix stuff, no thanks."

A name. That's all we had.

"Maybe my friends know that name. But I don't know how to reach them."

Bon reached into his pocket and pulled out a video tablet, and began tapping it with his finger.

“OK, so we ran some numbers. From the position of the name on the tag, I figure it is the beginning of a name, and not the end or middle. Cross reference that with the known population, and we get only 6.8 billion potential hits. Now, that is still a few too many, so figure that the person has some interest in something that makes him or her want to scope out a planet like that and dust through old relics. So cross that into the 6.8 and that cuts it way down to 1.4 million. Now, this person must have some serious wealth, or has corporate backing, to have a ship and equipment. Cross that potential and we get down to a workable number. Now, I got folks checking out the other potentials, but I got my heart set on one in particular and I want to take that one personally. So, man, while the crew here preps the fleet, I want to take you two on a magic carpet ride to stars!”

Bon put the tablet back in his pocket.

“Because, man, I got a name, and I got a last known location, and I got a hankerin’ for some adventure. And right now I got almost all the makings for a successful team!”

“I got the crotchety old bully,” Bon said, looking to Stern.

“I got the mysterious stranger,” he said, nodding to Jebbua.

“I got the brilliant savant,” he said, tapping his own chest.

"Why do you need this guy? If you need a pilot I can fly. If it's because of his tough talking. I can fix that problem. So I think we should get started now. Unless you really want to go find this guy."

"You ruined him! His ship was destroyed and now he's got barely anywhere to go or anyone to turn to because of you!" I growled at this. The line of discussion was not to my liking already, nor was the company of an obvious jedi.

Call me paranoid, but I wouldn't go anywhere near one without a very long stick. Preferably a stick with a grenade on the end.

I looked to Commissioner Stern who had finally spoken.

Bon waved his arm high in the air and yelled at someone across the large workroom. A tall man in a white jumpsuit ran to Bon, then leaned down to speak something quietly into Bon’s ear. Bon cocked his head, then pounded his forehead three times with his fist.

“Ah—ah-- release the circulation vent to 200 kpc and agitate the malefaction gears until vacillation reaches a constant average of 87.5 microns a unit. That should bring the optics back in line to specs, then you can resume the introduction of the payload into the modified graviton synthesizer.”

The man nodded, and turned to leave.

“Oh, hey!” Bon called after him. “And find me that pilot dude that was supposed to blow up, man!”

The man nodded again, then hurried off

“So, yeah, anyway, let me show you more, man! Over here we got all that high-tech stuff that the high-tech guys like, man. Gizmos and do-whackies and slicers and juicers and whiz-bang-go-get-em-tiger-o’s. We got an orbital platform somewhere up there, man, not here but somewhere, where we keep the big ships, man. Yeah, in a way we’re just getting started, but man, we got it going on!”

Bon led them across the bay to a door, which opened on a smaller room with a table and chairs. He took a seat at the head of the table and held out his hands towards two other chairs.

“Sit, man, sit. The pilot will be here, man, time to relax!”

A man, clad in a white labcoat, knocked on the open door and gave a thumbs-up signal.

“We found him, we’ll have an operative with him shortly. We followed a transmission of the Sullust Guard, in cooperation with the Oppressors, and the trackers took it from there. He’s not alone, there are two females – one human, one… furry.”

Bon raised his eyebrows. “Bring them all!” he shouted. The man nodded, pressed his thumb to his forehead, and left.

I looked at Stern then back to Bon.

...and had at last gotten Aelly Ssyn herself, before all hell had broken loose on Sullust and she had to depart. Before she could get to that pilot whose ship was supposed to blow up an SSD, per Bon Foyagee's careful arrangements.

Apparently those arrangements hadn't been quite careful enough, Cardissa thought blackly, tossing her long two-toned, gold and cinammon-hued hair to the side. She slitted her black eyes marginally as she mentally reveled in her success one final time before moving on.

Ssyn had been so assured that, as a predecessor of Xizor, she could lead the Black Sun and take over the Empire. But now she was buried deep away somewhere that she would never escape from. The Empire Reborn would rise, as it should, as Cardissa's grandfather had always intended.

The Destiny would be completed at last, and her father's flaw would be ammended. Who needed the Force anyway?

But first, Foyagee owed her something he had been promising, and perhaps his failure with Riven could be forgotten if he produced that which he claimed he could. Cardissa dialed in Foyagee's comm frequency, all traces of any anger or haughtier draining from her face as she then spoke through the comm. "Mr. Foyagee," she opened with, "I would like to know of your progress concerning the ships in the drawings you have shown me; time is of essence, and we are making progress in our quest to defeat the opressors. I know you needed a team, and a pilot...

...and I trust that you will have these needs taken care of in short order so that you can report to our base. I will be waiting."

Stating nothing further, Cardissa sent the message on its way, and stood, heading to the cabin where her own pilot awaited her orders. "We return home, to Sullust," she said succintly to the Sullustan. "Ssyn came looking for us, and instead was found herself. I'm looking very forward to seeing just what she has now given to us."

To me, came the final, truthful thought within Cardissa's mind, even as the pilot set them enroute to Sullust as she asked.

And it would still. After all, the destiny she was so determined to achieve had been passed down to her via two generations without being completed, but Cardissa firmly believed that she would be the one to succeed. After all, she was one thing that neither her father nor her grandfather was.

She was a woman. A strong, proud, determined woman. Many never saw that for what is was worth, and this was to her advantage. Granted, her father certainly hadn't taught her this, at least not directly. He'd paired with her mother for one purpose, and one purpose only: to conceive a child. Perhaps he had been hoping for a male, but Cardissa had not disappointed him, and he had loved her dearly until his death. He had given her what her grandfather had not given to him due to his lack of Force ability: he had filled her with knowledge and made certain she had many skills.

She was no warrior, and her father had never intended for her to be one. Still, she was a fighter with high intelligence. She could charm her way into the hearts of others, control and direct them and guide them as she saw fit...

...and still managed to handle a blaster quite well despite her lack of physical fighting ability. Now sitting in her very own office behind a large greelwood desk, Cardissa cocked her head, her tresses falling to one side as she did so. She placed a finger to her lips and pursed them, dark plans swimming in her mind. Then she reached out with that finger and pushed a comm button.

"Yes, Mistress?"

"Bring me all the information you can pull up on the Black Sun...

...and on the Reborn. And, while you are at it, Sievere, get me a listing of any black market advertisements from the past seven standard days."

"Yes, Mistress. I will have all of this to you as soon as possible."

"Be certain you are thorough," Cardissa replied. "I prefer that over speed."

Closing the comm frequency at that, Cardissa laid her head on the back of the opulent desk chair she sat in, closing her eyes, envisioning her father nodding to her in unspoken approval...

...and seeing the Reborn Empire she wished to build within her mind's eye, every being in the galaxy under her command.

Especially the Force users.

"You found some information?" she queried then.

He nodded. "There is little on the Reborn," he began, "But we know the Empire is using them."

Cardissa frowned, her features darkening a bit. "Of course we know that." Pausing, she leaned forward, her black eyes pinning the subordinate. "I'm waiting to hear something we don't know."

Folding her arms, she leaned back once more, but her eyes never strayed from the man's face.

"The Imperial who was able to create the reborn, and initially controlled them..."

"Admiral Actar?" Cardissa interrupted, a thundercloud developing in the depths of her already dark eyes.

"...ummmm, yes. He's still supposedly in control of the Empire and them...

...but he's been unheard of and unseen for well over a year."

That got Cardissa's attention. "Oh, really," she observed then. "It's going to be difficult for him to maintain control of something he isn't bothering to keep an eye on. Who then is in control?"

The subordinate brightened visably, as though he was eager to share the next information he had. "There is an officer by the name of Lieutenant General Sorben Tarnus. It is no secret within the galaxy that he maintains the control for the Empire...

...and we think he's the one who is keeping an eye on the Reborn as well."

Cardissa reached up and covered her mouth with one hand, thoughtfully tapping the tip of her nose with a finger. Then her black eyes shifted to her subordinate's. "We need to be certain of that," she said simply. "These Reborn are an abomination to the galaxy, and they are designed to be manipulated to do whatever they are told. The Empire uses them to control the galaxy, and at this time they are doing an effective job. But any lack of supervision on them may give us a window to eliminate the control they have on the galaxy, and thus the Empire's opressing control on it as well."

Pausing, she pursed her lips a bit, considering. "Find out whatever you can on this Lt. General. I want his use of the Reborn for purposes of galactic control stopped..."

...so I can use them for precisely that myself, since my Grandfather is the one who discovered the Valley, came the mental addendum. It is my right...

"You have some more work to do." She then stated. "You are dismissed. Oh, and one final thing," she then added as the man turned to go. He looked back to her, arching an eyebrow. "Let me know when Foyagee arrives. He is taking a rather long time getting here..."

Good. The Commander was off the bridge at the moment, maybe in his ready room or something, he nodded to himself, freed to let loose the yawn that had been hovering all morning long. Blinking, he moved his fingers along his boards, monitoring the fact that messages were whirling along the electronic fields all about the destroyer he served upon, carrying messages to Sullust and back again from the slow but steady stream of vessels that approached her.

He sighed, flicked a switch. Wished his commander would let him slice into said messages.

Isn't that what we're all about? he thought with a slight frown of annoyance.

I mean, back in the day there would have been no hesitation whatsoever.

But General Ahem had been adamant. They were here to assist, to monitor activity, and to keep their collective noses clean.

With no action imminent, the Ensign was bored nearly out of his head. But orders were orders, so he remained dutifully at his station, his mouth dutifully shut, his eyes dutifully open as were his ears, the military stance he managed to maintain even while seated breaking for only one moment as he leaned forward to log in the arrival of yet one more small and unassuming yacht, which hovered in a brief geosynchronous orbit before plummeting planetward upon its business.

“I like that, man!” he beamed. “Bold, brash, daring, unexpected! Yeah man, we’ll get him ourselves!”

Bon jumped out of his seat and went to the door, where he was met by a white-coated man who handed him a small video screen. Bon read the contents.

“We’re on it, baby!” he said to no-one in particular. He waved Jebbua and Stern to follow, and went to a metal tube stationed near a wall. When the other two joined him, he tapped a sequence on a panel and a hidden door swung shut. The bottom then seemed to drop and within a few seconds the door opened again. The men were now facing the opposite wall of a long, dark alley. Bon bopped out of the elevator and tapped on his ring, a bright beam of light shooting out from it.

“Let’s go, man!”

The alley opened onto a secluded section of the underground. A few people shuffled by, but nobody paid the three much attention. Within a few minutes they were back into a more populated area and Bon was almost skipping.

“The Cerulean Protoplanet!” he declared, stopping at a door. “Should we knock?”

(((Follow Bon, Jebbua, and Stern into Dark Star Black Sun in this forum)))