Tempest Tomorrow

[Trenton Vinh]

Jonathan Rohaeus looked down at the datapad that he had been holding for over an hour. He had read it at least a dozen times -- the casualty list and battle reports from the Marcol Void.

He shook his head the same way he had the last ten times he had looked at the blue screen covered in amber lettering, and dropped it onto his desk in futility.
People died in war, memorizing the names of the lost only wasted energy.
Dwelling on the dead would only lead him to lay down with them.

Grey eyes wandered across the empty, dim office he had been given as a courtesy. Penumbra had been his home for nearly three days now, and he still had made no progress with his studies into the Sith that he felt were behind the assassination of Lance Henrikson.

A part of him noted the irony; he looked away from a list of more than three-thousand dead people, to focus on the aftermath of the death of one individual.
The death of one is a tragedy... He remarked internally.

Lance Henrikson had been just the beginning. After him had been Rikter, the capture and interrogation of Devan Knorr, and then there was the implication of the Sith...
Jon felt as if he was nowhere near understanding what was going to happen next, no clue what the mysterious enemy was planning.

Thinking back on the mission he had just returned from, he felt only more confusion. Knorr was still being held a dozen decks below, but talking to him wouldn't help. All the Zabrak had offered was hints and promises that death would come to all who opposed the 'Dark Lord' who had been stirring the pot, brewing a black mixture of evil to drown the Galaxy in.
He felt like a storm was coming, like something big was going to happen. Like the catalyst was nearing, right in front of him but invisible to his blind eyes.

Knorr had claimed that the Apotros, a ship being transported to Penumbra for military study was somehow vital, and that it was supposed to have been hijacked during its journey.
Jon had been assigned to escort the ship upon arriving in the Coruscant system. The escort mission had gone without any danger.
But there had been something unusual. A single drone had stealthily neared the space station, and had intercepted the radio transmissions of the escort team as Apotros docked. The drone had been discovered, but escaped into Hyperspace before being stopped.

This worried Jon quite a bit. Knorr had said the ship was to be stolen, and Jon understood why it was desired by criminals.
Apotros was nearly impenetrable; its hull was made of micro-weaved quantum-crystalline armor. This allowed it to survive under incredible hull stresses and absorb unbearable temperatures. It also made it an incredibly deadly weapon.
Having seen Apotros in flight, Jon had only been mildly impressed.
The ship was originally a mining vessel, and was egg-like in shape. A quad set of thrusters jutted out the bottom, on the top was the tiny cockpit. The interior structure was almost entirely empty, designed for collecting minerals and rare elements inside gas giants.
It had no weapons, yet, but the Military would no doubt change that.
Its speed was its strongest suit apart from its armor. It had shields, but they were for show more than any real necessity -- anything that could get through that armor would have ravaged the shields without hinderance.
Tactically, it would be best used as a ramming weapon, however Jon didn't know if that would be too comfortable for the pilot.


Once more, Jon shook his head in frustration and sighed, a whispered cursing passing between his gritted teeth.
He rubbed his eyes, and thought harder, positive that something was missing.
He looked it over: Henrikson was killed because he had the potential to stabilize the G.A., Rikter was killed for being a loose end in the assassination. Knorr had been the assassin, and a Sith had tried to kill him to eliminate the loose end he had become. But Knorr had survived...and was now in custody.
But why did the Sith care about politics?

Rohaeus cursed again, and turned to the starship now in a secured hangar aboard the station. What did it have to do with Henrikson?
What was the connecting thread between all the events?

The drone had no doubt arrived at its destination, to deliver whatever intel it had gleaned from its observations to its programmer. Was the programmer really a Sith Lord, hiding outside the system?
And why would a Sith want with a space ship like Apotros?

His repeated curse was muted when someone opened the door to his office. Looking up, Jon was only mildly surprised, and moderately annoyed, at the sight of Callius Reyan, the Director of the ShadowNet.
The cerean was looking haughty as always, but his stress lines were showing now too, for he had been up the past three days straight, working on the same case as Jon.
Reyan spoke before Jon could say anything,
"The drone was headed for Kessel, of all places, Rohaeus. We sent a team to investigate, they will have a report within the hour."
It was at least something, and Jon sat up straighter in his chair as he replied,
"Good to hear, hopefully they will have some answers. I'm going in circles here."
Callius nodded with a smile, then took the seat across the desk from Jon. The cerean had always been arrogant with Jon, but now he seemed thoughtful.
Reyan said, "What advice do you have for me on dealing with Force-Users, Jonathan?"
The younger man was surprised by the question, and raised his eyebrows, frowning, "The best advice I can give is to stay away from the glowing end of the lightsaber, and never try to keep them in custody for too long."
Callius smirked, but Jon had the feeling he had annoyed the man with his response. The director said in response,
"Devan Knorr seems to be under control, and won't be breaking out of our brig anytime soon. And I mean advice on how to tame them, to keep them from going Dark."

Jon glowered at the thought, he had seen a few Dark Jedi in his lifetime, and didn't enjoy the idea of running into any more.
He sighed and leaned back in his chair, putting his boots on the corner of his desk. He shrugged,
"The Force is a philosophy, so you should appeal to their moral stance. If they have good morals, chances are they won't do anything too terrible. But listen, keeping a Force User around is asking for trouble, whether they cause it or not, they have a talent for finding it."
The cerean nodded slowly and decided to fill Jon in on what he was talking about,
"You read the report on Devan Knorr's capture; he was injured and attempting to kill a young man. The young man used The Force to defend himself from Knorr. But when I researched the boy, it turns out he isn't a Jedi, and doesn't seem to have any affiliations with any known organizations. Its as if the boy just showed up on Coruscant out of nowhere. The agent that captured Knorr is keeping an eye on him because we weren't sure if he was significant to our case. It seems to have been just a bad coincidence for Knorr that he chose that particular boy to attack."

Jon sat up once more, pulling his boots from the desk to the floor, "Wait...you want to train this Force User?"
Reyan almost laughed, his smirk was so arrogant that Jon seethed silently. This man loved to make himself feel superior in intelligence to Rohaeus.
"Of course not, Jon, but he could be an incredible asset to ShadowNet. A Force-User can do things others cannot, and are capable of foresight and telepthy. He could give us intel we would not get from anyone else, he could complete assignments no one else can..."
Jon was skeptical now, "What do you mean? Two of the Vindicator's are Force-Sensitive's, and both very powerful ones at that."
Reyan replied, "Three, actually. But their loyalties are in question. They were made Vindicators, that doesn't mean they want to be Vindicators. If this boy is as powerful as our agent believes he is, it could be an incredible addition to our team."
Jon shrugged again, "So why come to me for advice?"
Reyan smiled now, showing his gleaming teeth smugly,
"Because you're going to be picking him up, bringing him here, and giving him a job."

Jon frowned, "But...why?", he asked bluntly.
Callius was getting on his nerves with his chiding voice, sounding like he was speaking to a child when he spoke to Jon,
"Well, he is homeless here. It seems as if he was abandoned on Coruscant. The Jedi would never take on such an old pupil, in fact, the boy visited the temple a few days ago."

"Where is he now?" Jon asked.
"On Coruscant." Callius replied.
"What if he doesn't want to come with me?" Jon shot back.
"He will." Reyan said with a smirk.
"How are you so sure?" Jon questioned.
"Trust me on this one, Rohaeus. I have a feeling the boy will be very important, and very eager to learn."

Jon sighed and stood up, stretching, "Alright, send the coordinates to my shuttle."
Callius stood as well, but now his eyes flashed with seriousness. He said slowly, "It is important that this boy is molded into something useful, Rohaeus. I am leaving it in your hands to ensure this. I don't want to waste an investment such as this one. This isn't just an investment in him, or in you. Its an investment into ShadowNet's future, and the Alliance's safety."

As Jon pulled on a jacket, he realized that perhaps the distraction would be a good thing for now. He said with a smirk, "Trust me on this one, Reyan. I won't mess it up."

[Trenton Vinh]

Gani Torre and Trenton Vinh slipped through an open hatch and started moving down a long, wide hallway, used for transporting goods to and from the docking bay.
The floor was a metal grating, beneath the crossing steel plates were large pipes, most likely coolant and fuel lines.
Had this been a mission of destruction, they could have easily attached charges to the lines and caused massive damage to the ship.
But the circumstances were far from that, and they couldn't destroy the ship until they ensured their own escape -- be it an escape pod, or by disabling the tractor beams and flying their ship out the way they had come in.

They had not spotted any Iskalloni yet, but knew their shuttle was crawling with them right about now, in the docking bay behind they had left behind.

Gani Torre was silent, his robes only making minor rustling noises as he moved swiftly down the hall. His dark eyes were always moving, looking for movement nearby, alert for traps or cameras, or boring into Trenton's skull.
Trenton didn't mind, in fact he almost sympathized with the Jedi Master.

Gani Torre had watched as the Jedi Order lost its place in Galactic Politics, lost the trust of the citizens he had sworn his life to protect. Then he had watched thousands of men and women die in a battle against the invading Iskallon warhorse.
He had felt Trenton touch the Dark Side during the battle, and had managed to -- by luck or will of The Force, rescue Trent from vacuum and keep him in captivity.
Gani suspected Trenton had returned to destroy, having been fed far too many of the late Jet Sumner's stories of Trenton's dark deeds.
And then the Jedi Master had been forced, no...convinced, to free Trenton.
But he had to release Trenton. No Jedi would allow a prisoner to be slaughtered in cold blood, and Torre knew that would happen if Trenton was found by the Iskalloni.

Had Trenton not been focused on the mission at hand, he would have felt some satisfaction at having convinced Torre to release him. He knew he would never again have the same result, but Torre had been against a wall. Whether they liked it or not, they needed one another if they were going to stop this Iskalloni ship from being able to transmit the Military hyperspace coordinates to its fleet. Those coordinates would give the Iskalloni thousands of choices on which military outposts and bases to assault first. They would have the jump on the entire G.A.'s naval forces.

Trenton wouldn't let it come to that; he and Torre would stop the codes from being sent. Surviving and escaping the ship was another story...

"Wait!" Torre hissed, and pulled Trenton roughly against a recess in the wall.
A door slid open and a pair of Iskalloni marched through the door, their crimson cybernetic eyes flashing down the hallway like laser sights.
They didn't pass the two men, and instead exited the hallway through another hatch.

Torre released Trent and they resumed walking down the hall, Trenton readjusting his black robes as he walked.
Gani's eyes still bored into the back of his head, and he shook his head slowly.

Trent said, "I think we should hit their communications first, make sure they can't transmit when they exit Hyperspace."
Torre nodded, "Then we should take out their engines too, they can't make it back to their allies with the data."
Vinh stated, "Then we take the bridge. If we can take out their bridge crew we can destroy the data from the storage source."

Torre said softly, "We won't be able to sneak around forever, they'll be waiting for us."
Trent hefted his lightsaber and replied, "Let's make sure we make it to our appointment, then."

*****

They found a lift and slipped inside, the steel doors slamming shut behind them.
Torre looked at the buttons on it, and tapped the button marked 'Communications'.
As the lift moved down slowly, Trent said, "We might catch these ones by surprise, we might be able to get them before they hit an alarm."
Torre nodded, having seemed to realize that this was not the time to argue about the moral implications of killing a possibly unarmed communications crew.
Something told Trenton the Iskalloni version of a Communications Officer would be much different than any he had seen before.

When the lift doors opened and Trent immediately saw that he was right.
The room was circular, with a hallway at the far end leading to other areas of the ship. In the center of the room was a pedestal upon which an Iskalloni sat rigid, unmoving. His skull was bare, skin and skull stripped away. Wires ran directly into his computerized brain, and lights ran along the wires as he streamed information.
There were five other Iskalloni around the room at different consoles, inputting commands and acting upon the will of the Iskalloni in the command chair. The wires running from him traveled directly into the consoles about the room, and others were plugged into the Iskalloni operating them.
Trent's gentle inhalation of surprise was matched with Gani Torre's double-take.

The closest Iskalloni was at a console against the wall by their lift, and from the angle could not see Trent or Gani, but both men sensed him. They sensed the inclination of its head as it pondered the unscheduled arrival of the lift. They heard its metallic whirs as it began to walk over to view the lift.
As it neared, Trenton exploded outwards in a blur of motion. He thrust out his palm as he flew forwards, slamming it into the nose of the Iskallon, crushing its nose and dropping it to the floor loudly.
The other Iskalloni turned now too, and Torre was beside Trenton, a hand waving and throwing two Iskallon into the air, slamming them headfirst into the ceiling.
They dropped unconsciously to the ground, and the last one scrambled to raise its weapon. The Iskalloni in the center of the room had not moved, his knuckles white as he gripped the arm of his chair with his left hand. His right arm was a mounted blaster cannon.
The Iskallon twitched, and Trenton took a moment to watch it in curiosity.
Was it trapped there, unable to move? Or was it in a dream-state, its body subtly reacting to stimuli deep within the brain? Was it aware of the unconscious Iskalloni around him?
Then the only other Iskallon fired, and Gani's lightsaber burst forth emerald fire. The room glowed green, and the bolt was redirected by the energy blade, slamming the Iskallon back into its console, causing it to spit sparks.
The Iskalloni stood up to its full height suddenly, as if it had been waiting for Trenton to come close before activating.
Seven feet tall and made of metal and muscle, the alien ripped the wires from its head violently, sparks scorching its face as the cords dropped to the floor.
It seemed oblivious to the pain, and it slammed into Trenton with its shoulder, knocking him off the elevated platform and onto the floor.
Rolling to his feet, he activated his lightsaber in time to catch a blaster shot from the cannon that was the Iskallon's right arm. The bolt rebounded harmlessly into the ceiling, but it also delivered concussive force, knocking Trent to one knee as it threw him off-balance.
Torre removed the arm from the Iskallon's body before arcing his blade across its neck, and it dropped to the floor loudly.

Trent stood up and rubbed his shoulder, "That thing had a Maser Cannon. All the fun of a blaster with extra concussive force. Watch your grip."
Torre nodded. Maser Cannons could be very deadly to lightsaber-wielders, cause catching a maser blast could knock the saber from the Jedi's grasp, or even worse -- thrust it into himself.
The best defense against Masers was by catching the blasts away from the body, allowing its concussive energy to be dispersed with a spin or turn.

Torre said, "Let's get to work, I have the feeling someone heard those blasts."
Trent nodded, and simultaneously the pair began dismantling the communications consoles with their lightsabers. Melting their screens, destroying the keypads, severing cables, causing general damage.
Within a minute or two, they left the room in ruins, and headed for the engines. This time, the Iskalloni wouldn't be caught off-guard.

Trent had confidence, it wouldn't take long to sabotage the engines, and from there they could take a lift directly to the bridge. Survival was looking more likely, but they hadn't seen what the Iskalloni had in store for them yet, so he wouldn't let himself get overconfident.
Torre's eyes were no longer locked on him, after the confrontation with the Iskalloni, he seemed to have decided that Trent was right, and that he would be better served keeping his attention focused on the situation at hand.

"The engine room is here, Trenton." Gani said quickly, pointing towards a hatch. As the door opened, they stepped onto a catwalk that led downwards. The lights dimmed steadily as they descended.

"Looks like it could be a trap." Trent said, "We're not out of this yet."
Torre nodded and together they stepped into the darkness, ready for the unseen Iskalloni ahead.

[Trenton Vinh]

Gani Torre was only a few steps behind Trenton, but he lost sight of Trenton as soon as they stepped into the darkness.
As his eyes adjusted, he extended his awareness to compensate. He could feel the rustle of Vinh's robes, his breathing, his steady and strong heartbeat.
They were on a catwalk, walking slowly but purposefully downwards, leading to the bowels of the ship, to the eerily silent engine rooms.

Both Force-Users had their lightsabers in hand, unlit but ready. Both expected an attack, or something.

Gani didn't understand, the Iskalloni should be on full alert by now; they had eluded capture and destroyed the communications.
Trent seemed to have been thinking along the same lines, cause he whispered,
"Its like they don't think we can do any damage. They took the data they needed from the ship when we docked. Did they think we just disappeared?
Gani shrugged, and replied, "We know so little of the Iskalloni, their motives are a mystery to me."

Trenton said softly, "Maybe we can ask one when we get the chance."

A half dozen thuds of steel on steel sounded from the darkness, and the rising hum of charging blaster packs filled the air. A dozen crimson tracer lights carved through the dark, aiming at Trenton and Gani.
Light burst forth from the epicenter of the tracers, when both Force-Users ignited their lightsabers, emerald and amethyst, twirling rapidly as the blasters opened fire.

Moving faster with a twirling grace, the two Force-Users moved like dancers, twirling their weapons and circling one another, coming within inches of one another as they riposted and deflected blaster bolts.
Then the firing ceased, and lights flashed on overhead. Trenton and Gani flinched, blinking. The illuminated room contained at least twenty Iskalloni warriors, many with scorched blaster burns, ready to open fire.
A deep mechanically tinged voice uttered over speakers, "You are beaten. You are now my prisoners, and will be taken into custody."

Trent clenched his jaw, and made eye contact with Gani. They could fight -- but they would die.
They silently agreed on patience.

A trio of Iskalloni marched close and one took their lightsabers and Trenton's discblade from Gani.
An Iskalloni grasped Trenton's shoulder, then slammed its fist into his stomach, doubling him over. He gasped for breath as the Iskallon held him up by his arm, and half-dragged him away. Gani received the same treatment, and both were led roughly through the ship, towards the central turbolift.

*****

Spector paced his bridge restlessly, a caged, mechanical beast. His breath shot out of his flared nostrils, and each inhale sounded like he was sniffing the air deeply. His hands were balled into fists at his sides.

The Autarch might be displeased with his actions, he had no way to tell right now. It all depended on what happened when he arrived at the coordinates he had downloaded from the captured shuttle.
But he had been foolish. No...He had underestimated the humans.
The two life forms aboard the shuttle had been identified as humans, but they had eluded capture.
And they had ruined his communications because of his oversight.

He shook his head, the two men had been captured -- attempting to sabotage the engines. Spector didn't waste the energy considering what damage they would have done in that sensitive area of the ship.
This stealth shuttle had little but engines. Built for recon and ghost missions, its weaponry was lacking.
But he would not need any weapons once they arrived in the system the Galactic Alliance called Coruscant.
The stealth systems would allow them to drop a bomb in the capital, wipe out the seat of government, throw them into disarray before they could prepare for the invasion...

A vibration in the base of Spector's skull made him pivot on the spot, his back now facing the viewport he had been looking out moments ago. The blue lines of Hyperspace backlit him, and in the dim blue lighting, he watched the pair of human prisoners as they were deposited on the floor.
The steel bridge floor clanged as the men dropped to their knees. Both wore robes, one brown and one black. One human male was dark of skin, the other fair skinned. The bald human was the older of the two, and he climbed to his feet first.
The younger man stood slowly, raising his head to make eye contact with Spector.

Spector's crimson eye zoomed in immediately, doing a dozen facial recognition scans in a microsecond. But he didn't need computed results to recognize the human being who was slowly standing before him.
Spector's organic eye narrowed, and he snarled in rage, stomping forward and grasping the young man by the throat, and slamming his back against the bulkhead.
The dark man cried out in surprise and moved, but was dropped to the floor by a swift punch to the gut.

Face to face with the man he had seen on Shadowville, Spector almost laughed in victory. He now understood why he had underestimated the humans before. This man...the one who was there, yet not there at all...

The human had not cried out in pain or fear as he was slammed into the bulkhead. The young man's piercing gaze was boring into Spector, as if he was the one who was not there at all. Spector could tell the man recognized him.

He needed to know, to understand what the human was.
Spector snarled in harsh, rough basic, "More than human."
The human responded with a smirk this time, but it was slightly weak, the pressure on his throat slightly restricting his breathing.
"More than you realize." The human replied.

The deck rumbled, and in the viewport behind Spector, the lines of Hyperspace disappeared, the room filling with golden light as the sun of Coruscant pierced the bridge.
The human's eyes widened for a split second, glazed over for a moment. A flash of light suddenly blinded Spector, his cybernetic eye showing only white and static.

The blinding light was followed by a sharp pain as the human hit him in the jaw, then kicked him to the floor on his knees.
The older, dark man was moving now too -- and Spector realized he had made another mistake. He had allowed himself to believe the human was at his mercy.

*****

Trenton had given them only a momentary distraction, blinding the Iskalloni with a Force flash of bright light. Gani had responded with Force-precise timing, wrenching free of his captor to turn away from the light, saving him from blindness and allowing him to overpower his captor.

Gani yanked the Iskallon's arm, pulling it low and elbowing it in the back of its bald skull. The monstrosity dropped, and Gani turned to the other two Iskalloni guards that had escorted them in. One had been holding Trenton until the Iskallon Commander had grabbed him. The other was holding their lightsabers and the discblade.
The Iskallon gripping the weapons was turning to move back in an effort to keep the escapees from getting the lightsabers back, but Gani Torre had other plans.
With a pulse from the Force, the Iskallon guard went flying into his ally, both crashing to the floor. The lightsabers flew into the air, and then landed in Gani Torre's hands.

As soon as Trenton had blinded the Iskalloni Commander, the grip on his neck had loosened for a split second. Trent had already opened himself to The Force, and made that sliver of a second and stretch it much longer.
His back was against the wall, so he slammed his knee upwards, into the jaw of the blinded Iskallon -- the same one he had seen on Shadowville.

He didn't want to kill this Iskalloni yet, so he pushed him away with a follow kick to the chest.
With some room to move, Trent felt a blaster being trained on him from one of the Iskallon bridge crew. Vinh kicked off the wall and flew across the room, a nudge in The Force from Gani caused him to reach out -- and
his lightsaber landed in his palm with a satisfying slap.
The blade ignited as he landed and rolled, his lightsaber spitting fire as he immediately began tearing into consoles and displays.

There were Iskallon bellows of rage, and then Gani and Trent were circling the room in large leaps, passing over and under one another gracefully, cutting arcs through the bridge crew as they opened fire.

It was over in seconds, the Iskallon Commander was the only one left alive. Trent and Gani were destroying the consoles, leaving the shuttle bridge a wreck. Sparks shot from everything, red emergency lights strobed.

Trent held his lightsaber blade to the Iskallon Commander's throat as he stood up -- over two meters and gruesome in appearance. He had blueish blood dripping from the side of his mouth, and his face showed brutish rage, kept in check only by the glowing blade at his neck.
The human asked, "What do I call you?"
The Commander growled darkly, and said in a rumbling voice tinged with electronics, "Call this one Spector.
Trenton repeated, "Spector," he paused, and asked, "What is your target?"
His organic eye was filled with malice, the robotic one was crimson, and Spector replied,
"Now you are my target."

Gani Torre shut down his lightsaber, "Trenton...I don't think these Iskalloni are the talkative type."
Trenton nodded, and said, "We destroyed most of his controls, but his ship can't be allowed to be recovered, we can't risk it. Spector here," The Iskallon Commander looked at Trenton at the sound of his name, as Trenton continued, "is going to send this ship into the sun."

Gani nodded slowly, "We can take the shuttle out the way we came in."
Spector seemed to know what they were saying, cause he went rigid, as if retreating from his body to transmit orders to his engine crews.

Trent opened his mouth to speak as the ship rotated slowly to face the distant sun of Coruscant Prime. Coruscant twinkled in the corner of the viewport, the sixth planet away from its sun. The shuttles powerful engines accelerated, and Coruscant began to slide out of view.
Gani asked, "What is wrong, Trenton?"
The Iskallon Commander and Jedi Master regarded the younger man, whose weapon hand had wobbled and shaken. Trent lowered his lightsaber and stared off into space, then said, "He's here...in the system."

Gani asked, "Who?" Then he felt it, the rush of Dark Power that could only mean one thing.
Torre uttered the word he dreaded, "Sith..."

Spector inclined his head in confusion. He dared not move, but risked turning to look out the viewport.
Trenton said, "He's not on Coruscant, though...He's somewhere else. In-system."
Trent was numb, but his mind raced. He had been gone nearly ten years...Drake Paladin had been in captivity nearly as long. Trenton hadn't ever thought he would sense his presence again, but he felt it now, undeniable and malevolent.

The ship was moving past the fifth planet in the system, and now Trent could just see a small cluster of ships ahead. One was a small shuttle, another a modified gunship. Both were quite some distance apart, but headed for the same destination -- a looming space station, barely visible against the backdrop of Vandor-III.
Trenton squinted to look at the station and asked, "What is that station used for?"
Gani seemed surprised by the question and said, "Trent...that's the ShadowNet's new Headquarters."
Trent paused and said, "I need to get there right now..."

He turned to leave the bridge, but Gani stopped him with a held-out arm.
"We cannot allow this prisoner to die, Trenton."
Trent replied sharply, "We'll be killing the rest of the crew when the ship enters the sun, won't we?"
Gani shook his head, "No. We aren't walking into this war and killing prisoners, we could eliminate any chances of forming a treaty, or an understanding of one another."
Trent pointed at Gani, "You deal with it, I need to get to that station. I need to see what Drake is doing."
The Iskalloni were am immense threat, but so were the actions of a Sith Lord. He had to find out what was going on while he had the chance.
Gani understood his urgency, and nudged Spector, "If you have escape pods on this ship -- now is your chance to use them. You can land on the planet below, we will have authorities to round you up soon enough. Tell your crew to shut down the engines -- at this speed the ship will be entering the sun in a few minutes. I suspect you have ten."

Trent spun and planted his boot firmly into Spector's nose, crushing it
and dropping the Iskallon to the floor once more. Gani glared at Trenton but didn't speak as the pair turned to leave. Trent said over his shoulder, "We will be seeing each other real soon, I think."