Back In The Game [ Jedi/Republic remnant ]

[Zane Watts]

Rothana.


The seat of power, the seat of one of the final bastions of hope for a fledgling force that represented one of the few cohesive vestiges of Republic rule. With the entire Galaxy on the verge of collapse, with communications reduced to almost absolutely nothing and with coherent command and control stripped bare for all to denigrate, what was left? Nothing. Only those smart enough to take what little they could find, create their own ways, and flee the ensuing chaos.


Commander Zane Watts was one such man. A Jedi-- yes. Absolutely, a Jedi Knight, fully ordained and powerful enough with his stature in the Republic military to command his own battlegroup. That battlegroup was now the bastion of hope over the planet of Rothana. A tenuous agreement had been signed between Zane and the remnant government of the planet: the military prowess, knowledge and capabilities of Zane's battlegroup, in exchange for what vehicles and vessels of war that Rothana Heavy Engineering, a subsidiary of Kuat Drive Yards once upon a time, could make for them. It was a fair deal. In essence, it gave the Republic soldier command of his own world that he could turn into a fortress. It was not a bad deal, truth told. Now in charge of the fighting men and women of the planet, it gave Zane's group a chance to survive and rebuild.


Once, it had been called Jedi Strike Operations. A beautiful rapid-response team commanded from one of the very few Valiance-class Star Destroyers ever commissioned by the Republic, led by one of their best-trained and well-loved commanders - the clone of Jedi Master Ben Watts. Strike Ops had a single mission: take the fight to the Dark Side however possible. Zane's love of warfare and commando flash-training made him the perfect candidate for the job. With their small-unit focus, their ability to deploy multiple commando teams led by Jedi to different battlefields and their single-minded unity of necessity, Strike Ops was a largely successful group.


That all had to change, didn't it?


The one perk to having a Jedi-oriented Republic warfleet was that multiple Jedi from across the Galaxy had been with Zane when everything went critically wrong. Experienced or not, they came to Strike Ops to learn, to train, even just to visit or as a waystation to other parts of the Galaxy - and then the nuclear weapons started deploying. On his ship at that moment in time, dozens of Jedi were available - and they all went with him at that time. What didn't go with him did one thing: spread the word.


The Jedi, and the Republic, would stand here, at the edge of the Galaxy. Tell your friends: Zane was taking command.


Aboard the Execution in Autumn, Commander Zane Watts surveyed his domain. The beautiful planet Rothana below, his Valiance-class Star Destroyer above flanked by its two Venator escorts, filled to the brim with starfighters and tanks and shuttles and whatever else they could carry. It wasn't much; the ship was barely functioning on crew and what few Force-users they had left were still working to contain the damage left to the ship itself. But they survived. They would continue to survive. He simply hoped that what messages he'd put out there for other Jedi and Republic leaders to find him - encrypted, naturally - would bear fruit. Perhaps a Jedi hopeful would stumble on the beacon over Ossus. Perhaps Coruscant would provide a few Jedi to the cause. He didn't know. All he had was hope.


Let them come, Zane thought to himself. He knew they would.

[Ishtar Freyja]

“I don’t get it… she should be dead now from the poisoning.” One voice declared now that Ishtar was alert enough to understand the noises above the long whining ringing she had in her head. Sort of seeing two people in hazard suits with their backs to her, a table with her saber on it and blurry markings on crates and wall of the cell she was in. She was not sure if it was a cell or something else. A little more time was needed to focus on her vision.
 
“Like I said before… that isn’t a human.” Another voice said.
 
“Then why does ‘it’ look like a woman, hmmm?” First voice came back with. Then Ishtar questioned herself, did she really see a person in a hazard suit do air quotes. She must have hit the ground harder than she thought. Then she tried to remember what happen. There spots of seeing people  in hazard suits carrying her but a blinding light was as far back as she could remember.
 
“If that is a human, why is the blood glowing blue, silver tissue and not dead from explosion or radiation poisoning from the nuclear blast?” Second voice questioned.
 
“Well got me there… so what is it?” First one replied.
 
“I don’t know… we were sent down to find survivors. They will question it on the ship once we dock.” Other said.
 
For Ishtar, it hit her like bricks. She was on a transport ship, Imperial ship. The need to act was growing but when she tried to move she could not. She even tried to speak but could not. Looking around to see what around her to use, a reflection gave hints to what were her reasons to bad eye sight and not being able to speak. Her face was split open and most of the damage was her lower face.
 
Seeing no way out in a more human way of doing things, Ishtar let her focus go away from maintaining a human form and shifted back to more natural form. Slowly, she melted into a silvery puddle on the floor and moved away from the chair she was bound in. Then she returned to her favorite human appearance with blonde hair. Now she had taken a reboot to her form, she realized the mess she was in, and no imperial was going to know what she was. The truth would wipe her species out since she had broken the rules of her people.
 
Voices of men changed to glass breaking. Silver spike went through the back of the hazard suit and out the other side with the head inside being impaled. When the other man saw his friend’s death, his turn towards Ishtar and grab for his blaster was too late. Her hand was stretched out towards the table calling for the saber when her spike arm began to break through the suit. Catching her saber, it was ignited and sliced into the other man. Only one thought was in her head… No imperial survivors.
 
Ishtar went to the cockpit and ended the piolet’s life before he saw her reflection in the glass. Moving the body, she plugged in coordinates for a quick hyperspace jump away from the capital ship she saw in front of her. She looked into the glass of the cockpit and saw her blonde hair was now black. Just a small sign of the darkness with in her and enjoyment of those three deaths, she sank in the chair to relax and watch the space ahead of her.
 
The ship exited hyperspace. It took a few minutes for her to realize it since she was zoned out. The time being checked out helped center her again so the murderous feelings were gone and one sign was her hair was blonde again. However the anger was returning from what she saw outside of her ship. The coordinates were given to her by friends that ran a group of force users but all she saw pieces of a destroyed ship. Even the attacks reached out into space. Her mission had failed and now seeing this was the trigger to the realization that everything had gone south fast.
 
Re-centering thoughts helped get her mind focused. Ishtar decided to if the Jedi knew anything. So she entered hyperspace again for Ossus to see if others had answers. One good thing for her species did not have a need breathing so the rotting bodies did not bug her while in hyperspace for days to get to Ossus. What drove her mad was exiting and getting a beacon message that told her to another location.
 
After punching a few hull walls, new coordinates were entered to go to. Ishtar was tired and worn out. Even holding the form for days did not help her. It was she could not relax like normal because she did not trust the ship to be secure while sleeping. So the fact of ship exiting hyperspace near Republic ships and her ship being Imperial did not register in her mind. She just opened comms to declare her name and placement in the Jedi Order without a thought about the oddness of her ship signature. Answers to what was going on were in front of her in one of those Republic ships.