A darkly cloaked figure stands at the window overlooking the city of Bin Prime. Even though it is late, he casts a flickering shadow that falls on the mahogany desk behind him; the standard city lights and the fires of the riots illuminate his brawny figure.

He turns back to the desk when a chime sounds, and a flickering blue figure appears above his holoprojector. The ghostly figure speaks. “Report, Inquisitor.”

“I arrived just in time, Master. Agent 63 lost control, was blinded by his personal agenda, and his feeble efforts have slowed production and stalled the project. It may take some time to get back on track. Major plans were also stolen right out from under 63's nose.”

“And the Jedi?”

Sweat appears above a nasty fresh wound that crosses from his forehead to below his right eye. “Xenrad is dead. He had far more power than I anticipated, but I defeated him in the end. It is a victory for the Empire.”

“And the others; have you converted them to our side? Did you at least extract useful information from them?”

His eyes cast to the side, and he tries to make his voice confident. “Xenrad interrupted the interrogation. They are both strong in the Force, but are untrained and undisciplined. It should not take much for them to fall – they are already on the path. Xenrad was the bigger prize, and 63 should have stopped them. But I managed to question two members of this Balmorran Resistance. The shistavanen left this evening for rehabilitation; the other was too weak and didn't survive the interrogation.”

The hologram pounds his fist down, smashing something at the other end. “Xenrad was already on death's door, he was only the bait. These force renegades must be stopped, and their friends must be destroyed. They will only grow in power. Do not fail me, Inquisitor.”

“Y-yes, Master,” he shudders as the projector dims, and the office is once more cast in a red glow.

The governor of Balmorra steps into the room, his rich purple robe billowing out behind him. “Do not worry, Inquisitor. I have a plan.”