Well, the week was almost perfect…

We returned to the Arda Fleet to well-deserved accolades; Senior Advisor Hayes is still rather traumatized, but recovering. Narek was severely wounded and I suppose my meager medicine skills actually saved the man's life. I do not know what Commander Qurno's plan is for him, but I suppose it is not my decision.

I was quite pleased to be able to fulfill the deal I made with Lorren - I came back in one piece, and we had lunch. I wish I could have taken her to the Reactor Core and had Pohni Kor'al and his COO cook droid cater a fancy meal, but I suppose I should be satisfied with a window seat and stars at the mess hall. Unsurprisingly, she is very intelligent, but I was pleased to know she is acquainted with the works of Santos Bel-Pak, and we had an interesting discussion about poetry and propaganda.

The bacta tanks did their job, and my leg does not ache any longer, so that was a definite relief. I spent a lot of time reflecting on Master Xenrad's lessons, and I decided to attune my lightsaber crystal further. It was surprisingly easy, as if I had some connection or bond with it. The Force is growing strong so fast, it is sometimes rather frightening…

In any case, my relaxing week was ruined by the brass. Commander Qurno decided to send us on a new mission, sounding rather boring and inane. It is as if he thinks we need coddling. I tried hard not to roll my eyes. I guess I can tweak my lightsaber further during the long, boring hyperspace flight.

---

Well, then. A boring mission turned absolutely insane, and I am surprisingly physically unharmed but completely exhausted. I am afraid that I might have misunderstood something about the Force, and a glimmer of a deeper reality may be on the tip of my brain. The Force may actually have a will, a purpose, and direction, rather than a mere tool to be utilized. More on that in a bit.

First off, I think Tor was trying to pave a new hyperspace route, because we ended up way off the normal lanes. We did come across a fascinating planet, though - it was an unnamed orb of precious metals, and we did a quick scan and sent the data to the Alliance. They seemed pleased - resources are always thin.

I decided to relax in my quarters here on The Last Call, which I am still getting used to. I have been trying to figure out how to make it feel like home, but nothing really works. I have a stand for my staff of office; Compatriot had sent an aerial image of Balmorra to put beside the flat-holo of me and Sprend after our first hunt together; and a mostly-functioning holoprojector sat at the foot of my cot. I spent some time watching a documentary vid that Lorren lent me. It was an interesting take on the Clone Wars, a conspiracy theory about the Chancellor playing both sides of the conflict. The evidence was a tad circumstantial, so I have to take it with a grain of salt, but it was well done and almost believable.

I must have dozed off, because suddenly I bolted upright to the sound of alarms. I looked at my chrono, and it was way too early to arrive at our next stop. I groggily entered the cockpit, and Tor was panicking about some kind of broken hyperdrive component. There was also a very interesting space station filling our view.

Dash decided to scan the station while Tor went to Engineering for repairs, and I suddenly remembered that droid the Alliance left us with last mission. It had not been very useful at all, but I thought it might know something about hyperdrives since it IS an astrogation droid.

My search ended up in a closet near the cargo hold - not sure how it ended up there. Incompetence. And it was not much help, either; it sounded angry and annoyed, so I took it to Tor, who looked flustered himself. Apparently we need some parts for the drive.

We ended up back at the cockpit as Dash connected us to a docking clamp. I was taken aback by his conservative approach - maybe his training did him some good. Or maybe Damaria gave him a tongue-lashing - she was looking smug at the moment.

The droid - I think its designation begins with MZ or something - finally came up with some half-useful information. It recognized the station as a Trade Federation relic from the Clone Wars, but it did not seem to be active - no traffic or comm activity in the area.

It seemed a good place to scavenge for hyperdrive parts, so we left Sprend and the MZ on board to guard the ship. Damaria, however, fell to her knees as she approached the airlock. I helped her up, and she seemed quite upset. Which makes sense in hindsight - these Sith are nothing to be trifled with.

Right beside the airlock was a heap of droids, suspiciously intact, though unmoving. I ensured they would not activate behind us by disposing of them completely with my saber. Very satisfying.

We stealthily explored the hallways of the station, and narrowly avoided a clanker patrol. It made my blood boil to see these vicious and annoying constructs - mass produced mobile guns that unfortunately talk. Of course, that is a touch better than constant annoying bleeps and bloops.

I restrained myself from decommissioning them on the spot, and we overheard them talking about Jedi or something as they passed. I assumed they were referring to me and Damaria, but of course we did not yet realize we were not the only people on the station. Maybe if we had caught on then, we could have saved the man crushed by rubble…

We decided to head to the Command Centre to take control of the station - clearly this was an active station, and by striking off the head we would be able to easily pick off the rest using the station's security and controls. Easy.

Well, we found the lift, and when we arrived, saw two squads of droids patrolling the entranceway, and an arced second level with railing not far away, with ominous sounds beyond our sight. We shut the door and quickly hashed out a plan. All at once, we tossed grenades into the hallway, destroying almost everything in sight. Which was not a very large percentage of the guards.

Dash was expertly plugging the clankers, and I clapped him on the shoulder, nodded, and then leaped from the lift to the second level. It was epic - the farthest I have ever jumped, and it must have slightly shocked the others. At the apogee of my leap, I became the one shocked - dozens and dozens of B1 battle droids, and even more grim, two Droidekas. On the third level a T-series tactical droid was busy at the main console, and from my knowledge of Balmorra's previous occupation, I knew it was my main target.

Hatred fueled my power, tinged with fear for myself and my friends, the bitterness of generations of Balmorrans coursing through my veins, I gestured savagely. The droidekas rose in the air, frantically spinning, futile. The Force was my tool, but it was resisting my desire. Brute force of will sent the first droideka crashing into an unseen energy field, shimmering and flaming out. The second droideka followed, still spinning, and obliterated the tactical droid as it turned its head towards me, not yet realizing the danger. As the droideka lay there, it started swiveling its half-broken blasters at me, so as an afterthought I tossed a screaming B-1 towards it. That is correct, droid. This is not your day.

As the remaining mass of battle droids snapped their heads towards me in unison, I realized how exposed I was, and with grace and aplomb I backflipped to my companions. I casually gave my scouting report, and Damaria who does usually make the best tactical decisions, ordered a retreat.

Unfortunately, in the chaos at the beginning of the fight, before we knew the true numbers, Tor had sagely disabled the turbolift to prevent it from being called away. Dash kept plugging away at approaching droids with help from Damaria. It looked like Tor was struggling to reconnect the power, and with another two groups of clankers approaching I gestured again, forcing the power to conform to my will, confused at the resistance. Another four B-1's rose, limbs flailing, then crashed against the squad approaching from the opposite side in a violent storm of sparks and screeching metal.

I heard Tor calling out that he was almost done, but his voice sounded strange - almost hollow and distant. As I stepped back into the lift, my vision faded, and my companions were replaced by raw emotion, swirling like the dust devils in Gorinth Canyon. Hatred, seething anger, but dancing around it was a sadness. It was not my own, though my emotions reverberated in harmony with the dance. I reached out, trying to comfort that being of sadness…

Tor was slapping me in the face, and I realized I was flat out on the floor of the turbolift. I felt terrible, my head pounding. I managed to haul myself up on my feet with Tor's help. Another glance to the hallway, more droids coming my way. Sighing, concerned about my head, I focused my will on the droids once more.

At first it was the same as before, a temptation to control and dominate out of the fear I had for my crew, my family. But the vision had shaken me, and I slowly drew a deep breath. Calm returned, my thoughts cleared, and I followed the flow of the Force, in tune with its own dance. A single droid was all that was needed, not a storm of destruction. It collided with another squad, stopping their advance.

Time resumed its normal course. A few marching feet from above retreated to the sounds of emergency escape pods jettisoning away. Let them go, Swift. Let it go.

The remaining droid in front of us threw his blaster across the room, surrendering. I walked over, and removed its head. But it was half-hearted, my anger and bitterness was gone, replaced by calm. The headless droid was stepping around in circles, the disembodied head chattering. I sat cross-legged on the floor, surrounded by twisted metal and smoldering parts, meditating on what I had discovered.

I blinked, and stood. “We need to get to the supply depot. Let's scavenge that component and head out.” I had a feeling that we needed to leave soon - that darkness was all too real. But there was more, too - I just could not put my finger on it.

Tor had fixed the surrendered clanker and the turbolift during my meditations, and we rushed down the levels quickly. Separatist ships were collecting dust in the hangar area, but a still-smoking ship was lodged in the wall. Curious.

While Tor and Dash dug through ship parts, Damaria and I headed over to the ship. She sensed a life form nearby, wavering and thin. I nodded, and we called to the others that we would be back shortly. We also called Sprend to bring the ship around so we could load up any salvage that could be useful for the Alliance.

We came face to face with a sealed blast door. I do not know how to slice a computer, so I shrugged to Damaria and set to with my lightsaber. One layer clanged to the floor, and I had almost finished the second when the door whooshed open. I looked over my shoulder and that annoying B-1 was waving cheerfully. I gritted my teeth and pushed over the carved out section of door that remained in front of me, separated from the rest.

It was not far in and we came across a body, battered by rubble. Damaria commed the others as I reached for a stim to revive him, but he grabbed my arm weakly. “It's too late. Save Arali…” His breath rattled as he handed Damaria a broken lightsaber, his final act.

Damaria looked at me, her eyes far away as if seeing through the Force. “Two more life forms ahead - and one is darkness.” We raced down the hall, and came… to another blast door. I shook my head, and plunged the saber in again. Dash and Tor arrived, and he scampered up into a nearby vent as I slowly pushed my saber through the heavy and nearly impervious metal.

He called out, “I see them!” and then we heard him land on the other side. “Come out to the side door, just around the corner.”

I sighed, looked at my half-finished work, and flicked off my white blade. On the bright side, it is a nice low-impact workout. We met Dash and a rather stunning Twi'lek, her purple lekku flowing gracefully. Pure art. And almost familiar - only later did I suspect the sadness I felt earlier was coming from her.

I did not have time to reflect further, as a bundle of dark energy burst into the hallway after us. We raced back to the ship, arriving as Sprend was still maneuvering into place. The ramp opened, and we all dove inside, shouting at Sprend to leave NOW.

The engines fired up, and as we passed through the energy field the dark figure entered the hangar, crates flying and bringing destruction. Sprend was pushing the engines hard, but we started to slow, and I could feel the brute force, the bludgeoning power flowing from the figure. It had a red saber. I turned to the purple Twi'lek, Arali. “An inquisitor after you, too?”

She shook her head, slightly trembling. “Much, much worse. Inquisitors are nothing compared to true Sith.” I instantly called out to Sprend to launch a missile at it (newly purchased at the base since the Alliance could not afford to give them to us for free, even with all we have done for them. Sad, really…).

Our rear launcher fired, heading back towards the base. I was hoping his Force pull on us would full the missile into him instead. Unsurprisingly, the missile exploded much too soon, but our ship broke free and we hit hyperspace.

I am surprised at Arali's words - the Sith are an ancient legend from Balmorra's mythological past. The galaxy-wide struggle between Jedi and Sith, good and evil, and of course good prevailed and the Sith disappeared. Master Xenrad had referenced them once, suggesting perhaps only two existed now, but even he was reluctant to speak much about them.

But what do I know? I was wrong about the Force. I felt the truth back in the base. It is not a mere tool, I know that now. It wills, and it guides. When I gave up my tight-fisted control, and followed its path, I left one clanker behind, and it helped us on the base. An unlikely ally. Sometimes the Force flows freely, but other times it cautions and halts, as if failure sometimes results in more good than constant success.

Food for thought, and I had lots of time for that. The rest of the mission was dull. We actually beat the rest of the fleet to the rendezvous point, and it turns out they could not resupply properly due to a lucky Imperial attack or something. I was barely paying attention - lost in thought and for some reason yearning for home.

I am gazing right now at the flat-holo Compatriot sent me, and Balmorra is calling to me. I am tired of being ordered around by Generals who do not understand the meaning of discussion, debate, and compromise.

If they will be the leaders of their vaunted New Republic, then it will not be long before tyranny returns, in my opinion. At the same time, I suppose they are better than the Empire - they may just be completely running on fumes and fading dreams. The destruction of Alderaan was a massive blow, removing Senator Organa who understood the galaxy from what I gather. I am rambling now - time for rest.

May the Force be with us. Always.