Escaping the clutches of the galaxy's most feared bounty hunter, Boba Fett.
Xol, Dex and the rest of the crew have crashed on an unknown jungle world.
With most of the gang still frozen in carbonite, Dex revives them all realizing that Typ's slab seems to have gotten lost in the descent. Believing him nearby Xol seeks out the Jawa and attempts to ascertain their current location at the same time.
Once reunited and knowingly safe from Boba Fett, the group hopes to reestablish contact with the Rebel Alliance and perhaps the Jedi Order should these resistance groups still exist.
More worrying still to Xol, is the notion of whether or not those groups would trust him after all that he has done...
Dusk begins to nestle into the jungle canopy as the crew sit on their slabs and wait for Xol's return. It has been hours since the cargo ship that held them has been seen so they see no harm in starting a fire. Dex splits a ration pack among the group before tending to the fire. The chirping of insects and strange calls of animals sound off in the heavily forested distance. Though the unfamiliar noises unsettle Wompit and Boomah, Dex finds them oddly comforting. Seeing the worried looks on the other two faces, he signals Xol using his comlink.
“Big guy,” Dex tests. “Do you copy big guy?”
“I receive you 1165,” Xol responds with a low whisper, attempting to not give away his position. “What is so urgent?”
“Nothin' really big guy, just wondered if you found Typ yet?”
“I am tracking the low level signals that the carbonite slab's control console puts out. Shouldn't be more than a few yards away. I will signal if there is a concern.”
The Yautja cancels the link and continues moving stealthily through the brush. Within a few minutes he comes to the point where Typ's signal should be coming from but surprisingly he sees nothing except for dense leaf litter and the small creatures that inhabit the forest floor beneath him. Staring down from the tree he has scaled, he can see a faint heat signature from just below the ground. He concludes that Typ's slab crashed so hard into the soft ground here that it has immersed itself in the soil. With a heavy sigh, Xol jumps down from the tree and lands at the impact site below.
Surprisingly, upon impact instead of dense jungle turf, he is met with a spongy almost springy texture beneath his feet. Unsure of what could be the cause of such weird terrain, he carefully moves closer to the site of Typ's crash. Upon approaching the earth beneath his feet heaves and open up like a whirlpool. Inside is a gaping maw filled with teeth, tentacles and a razor sharp beak. The beast is a Sarlaac and judging by its demeanor, it seems rather displeased with the Yautja being so close. However, what Xol takes as displeasure is something different altogether. The creature continues to heave and Xol can even see fluid spraying out of it. The fluid is not water but carbonite gas still suspended in transport agent just like what the carbonite slabs use to store their contents. This can only mean that the Sarlaac has unwittingly activated the thawing process and is now choking on the resulting release of fluid. With a heavy cough and a shriek, the immense beast spews a tiny figure from it's mouth.
The figure sails through the air and into the bush all the while only reciting one word as he flies. “Uteeni!” the small shape sounds as he crashes off into the jungle.
Knowing full well this is Typ, Xol rushes to the Jawa and checks to see if he's alright. When he finds him, the small creature is dazed, panicked and completely coated in mixture of dense mucus and bits of plant-life he has careened through. Shaken but seemingly not hurt, the diminutive Jawa stands up, attempts in vain to brush himself off, then makes a series of hand gestures at Xol, chattering quickly as he does so.
Understanding that Typ would like to be away from this place, the Yautja allows the slime-covered little creature to hop up on his back so they may return to camp more quickly.
At camp the crew sits patiently around the fire as dusk turns to night, telling stories to one another that for the most part have been told a million times before. Nonetheless the group shares laughter regaling their many misadventures and pitfalls that at the time were harrowing but now are little more than punchlines.
Xol lands in the camp with a thud, startling even Dex who had been scanning the forest the entire time. Typ partly happy to be back on the ground hops down from the Yautja's shoulders and begins to nestle the ground like it were a long lost friend.
“Do I wanna know why Typ is all...well goopy?” Dex asks curiously, his head tilted.
“Trust me 1165, you most certainly do not.” Xol responds as he flings clumps of remaining mucilage from his shoulder.
After a few moments of reunion, the crew gather round the fire and resume talking amongst themselves. This goes on for only so long before the night finally gets the better of them, and the crew bed down for the night, huddled together for warmth near the fire. Xol and Dex remain awake, taking the first watch. They discuss the future amidst the hum of the jungle fauna and roar of Wompit's snoring.
“Xol,” Dex begins after a long silence. “If I didn't know any better I would say this is Rakata Prime just a couple clicks south of where you found me.”
“You mean where you tried to trap me 1165?” Xol responds in a playful tone.
“Hey, you have your sequence of events and I have mine, I will just leave it at that.”
“I do believe you're right. The computer in my helmet seems to have drawn the same conclusion based on what little data we have at hand. But why would a bounty hunter like this Boba Fett bring us out this far instead of taking a traditional hyperspace pathway. Furthermore why enter the atmosphere of the planet at all?”
“Same reason that Jedi evaded the Republic and led my commando pod and I here, privacy. Not many would dare venture out this far let alone know about this system Xol. Fett's probably got his ship here somewhere where he would have transferred us from that cargo bucket to its hold and then made a jump to hyperspace and probably make his way back to some Outer Rim hole of a planet where he would cash us in on bounty. Remember Xol whilst you were away, I did do a little bounty hunting of my own. Count Raxus back on Ord Mantell wasn't the only one that knew not to mess with Dex Kamino.”
“Do you presume that he is here still?”
“Safe to say he's not big guy, but he will be back and probably with help.”
“Help?”
“Yeah, nothing special just some throwaway mercs to soften us up like he did back in the market with those droids. Why do you think the Confederacy used to use those stupid clankers. They were dumb as a Gamorrean with a hangover but there were just so many of them that we had no choice but to fall back sometimes.”
“Well let us make sure we are not here when he returns.”
“I agree ol' buddy but unless you've found a way to fly us all across the galaxy using that magic of yours, we aint going to make it too far. There are a few ships here that in half decent shape, I'm sure with Typ to help we could have one off the ground in a couple days.”
“We don't need such unnecessary measures, my young friend. Before we left our Star Destroyer, I left behind a little message for the crew in our absence. I will activate said order now, and they should be here in no time.”
“This didn't occur to you back at the Dark Star market?”
“It had, but with the whole being darted into unconsciousness and then frozen in carbonite, for an unfortunate second time in my life, I haven't had an opportunity to employ it.”
“Sorry Xol, I don't mean to bust your mandibles about this sort of thing, it's just my way of dealing with Qiin being gone.”
“I miss her too Dex, and she may have been taken from us far earlier than was necessary but I know she has ascended to a far greater place. A place I will be lucky to find myself when I go.”
“Well you best get some shuteye big guy, I will finish up the watch. I won't nod off with Wompit makin' all that racket over there.”
“Very well 1165. Rest easy and we shall be on our way soon.”
Xol, draping his cloak over his body as he lies down, falls asleep quickly, his body greatly fatigued and in need of rest. Hours pass and with the breaking of the dawn, the Yautja awakes to find the remaining crew still asleep, and bacta patches covering his injuries, no doubt placed there by Dex in the night. To his surprise though, his clone compatriot is not present. He seems to have stoked the fire quite well and meandered away from the camp. Concerned Xol orders the remainder of the group to stay and takes off into the jungle on the trail of the clone commando.
Dex has made no attempt to hide his tracks and though the trail takes him a great distance. It does not take him more than an hour or so to find his friend. When he does find the lone soldier, he sits in the ruin of his old encampment. The one in which the pair first met. Next to him are three tarnished helmets, similar in configuration to Dex's own helmet. He doesn't look up as Xol nears the camp, he sits solemn on a fallen log, his camp overgrown with jungle foliage in the years since their departure. A single tear streaks down Dex's cheek as he sits, staring into the visors of the helmets set before him.
“They were my brothers Xol. Not like other clone troopers. We're bred to form a cohesive unit, four parts to make one whole. I've never stopped thinking about the day I turned on my own brothers Xol and killed them right here, in the middle of some awful jungle on the edge of nowhere and for what? Well you know...nothing.”
Unsure of what to say in response, the Yautja merely walks into the camp and sits down next to his grieving friend, allowing him to continue speaking uninterrupted.
“What are the odds of coming back here? I never planned to ever set foot on this rock again but by some cruel joke here I am again. I was scared to come here actually, worried that they'd be waiting for me. Back from the dead or some other frackin' nonsense. I had to come here Xol, I'm sorry. After Qiin, I got to thinking about all the guilt I keep held up inside of me and I figure the only way to come to terms with that is to see them again. I buried them proper this time, said my piece took their helmets as reminders of my three brothers and was just about to fire off a few rounds to properly close out my long overdue funeral ceremony. I'd be honoured if you joined me Gr'rit'Xol.”
“It would be my pleasure, DX-1165.” Xol replies, firing up his shoulder cannon for use.
The pair look to the sky and fire three volleys of fire up into it. The streaks of energy fire dancing in the morning glow of the sunrise. After the blaster fire ceases, the pair stand silently for a moment with the heads hung in remembrance. With a heavy breath Dex replaces his helmet upon his head and gathers the three by his feet into a mesh bag he has stored in his belt pouch. The clone lost in his own thoughts stands in the camp for a moment more as Xol looks on from a few feet away, continuously scanning their surroundings as he waits for Dex.
“DX-1165,” Xol speaks softly from the silence. “I do not wish to be insensitive however, we should proceed back to the rest of the group for pick up.”
“You're right big guy,” Dex replies nodding his head in agreement. “I just hate saying goodbye.”
The pair begin their march back through the jungle toward the camp where the crew has remained. As they approach the camp they hear uproarious laughter. The sound is music to their ears and Xol and Dex drop their guards and walk calmly into the encampment. The fire, still burning strong has now been outfitted with a makeshift spit, which Typ occasionally turns. On the spit itself is a large, fish like creature with a long lizard-like tail. The first quarter of the creature has been removed along with its head. The remainder sizzles and cracks over the open flame.
“Itsa good'n tasty flipperfish,” Boomah says between bites. “Wompit be hittin' it with a big'n frackin rock.”
The pair, half starved themselves sit with their crew and indulge in the cooked animal while they await their ship's arrival. Xol salutes Wompit for his successful kill and gives him a pat on the shoulder. The Savrip is elated at the Yautja's approval and personally plucks some warm meat from the carcass and hands it to Xol.
The hot noon day sun makes its way through the forest canopy and fills the camp with thick, muggy and warm air. The crew exhausted by the heat shares a canteen of water over stories and continues to feed their fire when a sound emanates from Xol's wrist gauntlet that lifts all their spirits. It is the sound of an incoming transmission, a sign that they can leave the harsh world of Rakata behind. Xol unfastens the holographic attachment from his gauntlet and throws it down in the center of the camp. The projection disc crackles to life and the hologram of a pilot droid emits from it's lens. The markings on the droid confirm that it is in fact Xol's ship and a thread of worry unravels from the Yautja's mind.
“Greetings and salutations Master Xol,” the holographic image begins. “I am ATA-22, acting captain of your Gladiator-Class Star Destroyer. We are responding to your urgent distress call. Do you require extraction from your current location or perhaps a bombardment sir?”
“That will not be necessary 22,” Xol replies, seemingly annoyed by the droids overuse of formality. “Send a pilot with a transport to our current position as quickly as possible.”
“Roger, Roger Master Xol.”
With a raised hand, Xol retrieves the small holographic projector and turns it off. Upon doing so, Dex laughs to himself and he begins to gather his gear. Curious, the Yautja turns to his friend and makes a quizzical gesture at the clone.
“No worries big guy,” Dex chuckles. “I wasn't laughin' at you, I was just thinkin' about who this Roger guy is and why do all those Trade Fed clankers say his name instead of yes, or affirmative like other droids. It's always bothered me I guess.”
“I worry about the path your mind takes my old friend,” Xol teases.
The crew continue to gather their things and dowse the fire with what water they have left. As the white smoke of the smothered fire billows up into the sky it is parted by the downwash of the transport's engines as it lands just next to them. Excited the crew rush aboard, racing one another up the gangway as Xol walks at a normal pace behind. Once seated on the ship they secure themselves in for the takeoff and with a triumphant rush of power, they burst off into the sky headed towards their ship waiting in orbit. Once they leave the atmosphere, Dex unbuckles himself and takes over the pilot chair from the droid that is currently doing so. The bewildered droid, unsure of what to do, straps itself into Dex's old seat and remains motionless until they dock with the Star Destroyer. Once in place, and the ships engines power down, the crew run to the exit just as quickly as they entered and cheer with happiness as the gangway lowers itself allowing them to run around in the hangar bay of their capital ship. Xol stands and waits for Dex at the bottom of the walkway watching as Wompit joyously throws Typ up into the air only to catch him again when he comes back down. This celebration by the Savrip, is met by panicked chattering in Jawaese as Typ exclaims that he is going to be sick. Just as Wompit puts his bewildered friend back on the floor, Dex slaps Xol's back and brings the distracted Yautja back into focus.
“Well that was fun Xol ol' buddy,” Dex jests. “Let's not do it again for a really long time. Seriously though big guy, I really appreciate what you did for me this morning and I guess in a way, I'm thankful for what you did all those years ago. Let's be honest, the big alien I met back then should have put my head on the wall with the others but you saw something in me that I think I'm only coming to realize about myself right now big guy. Long story short...thanks.”
“You are most welcome Dex,” Xol responds humbled by his friends sentiment. “I must go to the medical area and have my wounds fully tended to. Bacta patches alone will not heal my burns, so I must leave you in charge of the ship for the time being. Once you have stowed your equipment, please chart a course for the Dark Star market into the navcomputer. We need to reclaim the Wayfarer before the syndicate has a chance to take it for themselves.”
“Of course big guy. One thing though.”
“What is it, DX-1165?”
“Well, when we go get my baby back from that pile of Twi'lek slime Persk. Can we finally name these ships. I heard from other pilots that it is not good to be aboard a ship especially in wartime that doesn't have a name.”
“Very well. Your superstitions aside I do think it might be best that the Empire had a name to call their enemy when we come to destroy them. As captain of this ship, I will begin by calling this Gladiator-class Star Destroyer, The Hunter in honour of my people.”
“Good one big guy, I like it. Usually you name them after women but I like it. I say that Lambda shuttle we got kickin' around in the cargo bay gets a good name too. How do you feel about The Battle Axe? It's fitting for warriors like you and I, the frackin' bucket looks like one anyway and it also can refer to women.”
Xol approves of the name and is about to respond when the punchline of the joke his friend just told occurs to him and spoils his concentration. With a hard shove he pushes the clone commando nearly over and begins to laugh wholeheartedly. His eyes well up with tears as he walks down the ramp toward the medical bay leaving his bewildered friend at the landing area behind him.
“So I guess that's a yes huh big guy?”
Xol still blind-sided by Dex's comment simply laughs hard in response and continues to walk away.
Hours later, after some much need recuperation in the medical bay, Xol returns to the bridge. A flash of sadness dances on his heart as he looks at the console where Qiin used to sit, now occupied by one of a thousand identical battle droids. Dex sits in the captains chair with his feet kicked up on the command console. His helmet off, the clone stares out the front viewport into the endlessness of space.
“Hey chuckles, look who is finally back to their old self.” Dex says with a greeting smile. “Just pulled up on the edge of the system, the Dark Star market is just ahead and the ol' girl is still left untouched. We received a commlink from P3 and he says him and the other pilot clankers locked down the ship when we didn't rendezvous back at the ship after a couple days. So far, the syndicate hasn't attempted to board but they have been trying to establish contact, so we may not have much time.”
“We have all the time in the universe my friend.” Xol replies with a cold tone. “Inform P3 to uncouple from the station and prepare for docking procedures with The Hunter. We are going to pay Irondo Persk, a personal visit.”
Dex repeats the orders to P3 and steps down from the command console, and replaces one of the droids at a navigational terminal. Xol allows his friend to pass and takes his seat in the high chair, he analyzes his mecha-deru systems and sees that all are still intact before issuing orders.
“Droid, bring us to a position at the epicenter of the market station and prepare to open a commlink with the station itself.” the Yautja commands as he focuses his mind with the Force.
Without questioning, the battle droid engages the hyperdrive and plunges The Hunter into a short leap through space. When it emerges from hyperspace, the sizable Star Destroyer stops exactly where Xol had commanded and the hull of The Hunter casts a long shadow over the Dark Star station. Still adhering to his prior orders, the battle droid opens the communication link with the station itself awaiting a response. Within moments a comlink is established and Irondo Persk's visage appears in hologram form in front of Xol's console.
“This is Irondo Persk my Imperial benefactors,” the Twi'lek begins. “So good of you to pay out your reward for in perso...wait what? How could it be you, you're with Boba Fett, frozen in carbonite! How could this be?”
“You once told me Persk, that life is like Sabacc” Xol replies with his claws tapping on the console in front of him. “You said, that sometimes an opponent shows their hand, and other times they use guile and subterfuge to win the day. I have an alternative theory for you. Sometimes your opponent you grimy Twi'lek, needs to be taught a lesson so you let them win a hand or two, and then just when they think they have won, you draw a wild card and crush their soul. For you even this is too good. You shall pay for my apprentice's spilt blood soft meat. Goodbye Persk.”
“Wait, wise Xol. Perhaps there is an arrangement we can come to that would be mutually benefi...”
Xol ceases the communication link, and begins to channel the Force. All the sadness and loss that he bottled up inside when Qiin died he now unleashes into the mechu-deru powered systems. With a slide of a forward toggle this power spills into the forward weapons array of The Hunter and begins to charge up. Red lightning arcs flicker from the main cannons and dance along the hull of the ship. With a tremendous rush of power, the Yautja stretches out with his power and blasts the main station with his amplified lightning sending a furious tempest of energy against the unprepared structure. Though the facility has weapons these are quickly overloaded and begin to explode violently wherever they are placed. Next to go is the shields surrounded the station itself, the faint blue covering of their energy field shudders and fizzles out in the wake of the attack. Though he cannot see it for himself, Xol can sense the panic and fear or those inside and he knows that Irondo Persk must be among those whom are afraid. With one last roar of dark side energy, the Yautja superheats the hull plating of the station until finally under the heat and stress it explodes, splitting the station in two. The separated pieces begin to have internal chain reactions as they drift in space and from deep inside their superstructure, a rapid succession of flashes and plumes of plasma induced flame pour from them, inevitably ending in an energetic explosion that decimates the main structure and parts of the surrounding market. As the debris sails off into the endless black of the galaxy, Xol can see out the viewport the numerous ships that survived the attack that are evacuating what remains of the Dark Star market. Satisfied, the Yautja powers down the forward weapons and slumps into his command chair, exhausted.
“Woo-hoo!” Dex shouts. “Way to go big guy, that fixed em right up! The Wayfarer is just performing final docking maneuvers now. All things considered, mission accomplished.”
“Excellent Dex,” Xol replies, his voice heavy with fatigue. “Take us out of here, and I don't care where we go, just as long as the Empire isn't there when we get there. I need to go to my quarters for a while, alert me if anything comes about.”
“Will do big guy, maybe I will try that lightning thing while you're away, I should get the hang of it in no time. Doesn't look very hard at all.”
Drained from his ordeal, Xol steps down from his command chair and proceeds to his chambers to meditate. Rolly and Rondo come to attention outside his room as he approaches and steps through the door. Setting his helmet on the mattress behind him, Xol kneels and begins to meditate, communing himself with the living Force, allowing what remains of his previous aggression to wash away as he reaches out trying to find some clue as to the whereabouts of the Jedi Order or the Rebellion. He knows his powers are great but not endless and does not feel confident that he will discover their location this way. Regardless, he tries and channels all of his focus and power toward his goal.
Hours pass and to no avail he has not seen one thing that would lead him to believe that the Jedi are still alive. Discouraged he begins to break his focus and stand but just as his mind begins to return to the world around him, he can hear a distant voice reciting his name. Attempting to control his excitement Xol resumes kneeling and returns to his more focused mind. As he plunges back into the warm embrace of the Force the voice he hears is much more clear. He has heard it before, it is the voice of Darth Vader's son, Luke Skywalker.
“Master Xol, I will now speak with you but I must be honest, I did not wish to originally.” Skywalker says plainly.
“What changed your mind Skywalker?” the Yautja inquires.
“A young Nautolan woman came to me through the Force and told me of your intent. I had no choice but to agree with her viewpoint and seek you out. I know you wish to collaborate with us and the Rebel Alliance once more but I must tell you, I cannot agree to any form of partnership without the approval of the other members of the Jedi council and of course the leaders of the rebellion. You cannot meet us where our base is located, that is too risky and frankly worrisome to many, so we shall meet at a neutral location. Travel to the Ithorian capital city of Tafanda Bay on Ithor. There we will meet in the center of the jungle sub-levels. There we will be able to discuss things in greater detail.”
“As you wish Skywalker.”
As those final words ripple outward into the Force itself, the link between Luke and Xol ends.
Rushing to his feet, Xol does not use the comlink in his helmet, instead resorting to the communication panel on his wall. With a flip of the switch he calls Dex on the bridge.
“Ahoy big guy!” Dex answers casually. “It's all quiet up here Xol, we have it locked down nice and tight.”
“1165, we must immediately disembark!” the Yautja says insistently. “Make a course for the planet of Ithor, we are going to the capital.”
“Aye aye captain, full speed ahead and don't spare the fuel cells!”
The Hunter soars through hyperspace, and arrives at the Ithor system in a matter of hours due to its close proximity to their last location in the galaxy. Feeling it best to not to upset the Rebels or the Jedi, Xol and the crew depart aboard the Wayfarer to the floating herdship city of Tafanda Bay. They leave The Hunter under the control of ATA-22 and the rest of the droids. Once docked, the pair instruct P1 to bring the Wayfarer back to The Hunter as they do not want a repeat of what happened at the market. The hustle and bustle of the capital around them, the crew find the nearest lift that can take them to the jungle sub-levels. Acquiring one, they make the slow journey not only descending the herdship into the jungles below but also across said jungle to the agreed meeting place that Luke Skywalker has told them.
Much time passes as the group traverses the dense jungle, they occasionally come across Ithorians enjoying the natural world around them but soon as they find themselves near the center of the sub-level, a place where few tread and even less like to go. This dramatic heart of the Ithorian wilderness seems eerily silent as Xol, Dex and the others arrive at the rendezvous point. Their shaken confidence in whether or not they are in the correct place is dispelled as they see clearly left behind to the mark the point is a white flag emblazoned with the Rebel Alliance symbol. It is draped over a large, flat rock that acts as a makeshift table surface.
“I don't think this is the place.” Dex says sarcastically.
At the sound of the clone's voice, movement can be seen from all around them. Lightsabers in a variety of colours flare up all around them and soldiers dressed in camouflage appear from the dense brush. Their blasters are trained immediately on Xol.
“I am sorry Master Xol that we had to take these sorts of precautions,” Skywalker's voice says from behind a group of soldiers. “You are not ignorant as to why we would react this way, I did not forget Ateyru. General Solo was there the day he crossed your path. As you know he did not return to me and ever since then despite the insistence of some of my peers, I do not trust you. Though we did have much to speak of when I revealed Project Rebirth to you, now you are fortunate we speak at all. I did promise you and your apprentice one thing Xol and that was to hear you out alongside my fellow leaders and decide as a whole whether or not your proposal will be received. So that you may address them properly, I will introduce you to the leaders of the Rebel Alliance, some of whom you may already know.”
A procession of individuals take their places around the table as Skywalker announces them one by one.
“General Han Solo you have already met, along with his companion Chewbacca. From there we have Alliance President Mon Mothma, Admiral Ackbar whom you met on Kashyyyk and Commander Juno Eclipse who is the head of our fighter division. With me representing the Jedi council is Master Anya Kuro whom I believe you are already familiar with, and finally Master Leia Organa, to whom Ateyru was a Padawan.”
Xol's heart lifts as he sees Master Kuro after so long. He gathers his thoughts and shrouds his feelings before beginning to speak, “It is an honour to be meeting you all, some for the first time.” Xol begins knowing that his every word is under scrutiny. “Once I fought alongside you, battling the Empire under the rule of Vader but since that time I have ventured down a different path, one that still shares no love with the Empire but away from what Master's Yoda and Kuro taught me on Kashyyyk. Along that journey I have forsook many of you believing that you had turned against me or simply abandoned me. I know that now to not be the case. Regrettably, innocent lives have been extinguished by my hands before this revelation. Nothing can undo my past transgressions since I left your ranks and those same acts have stained any good reputation I once had with many of you, so now I must stand before you as a stranger. Yet, I still must ask that we join forces to finally bring down this Empire once and for all. I have been in the presence of this new emperor and he is very cunning and this is only surpassed by his connection to the Dark Side. He will stop at nothing to destroy you and resort to any tactic to do so. Though I do not expect to be welcomed with open arms into your ranks once more, I do believe that we have similar goals, so much so that we can band together and slay the beast that plagues us all. Should you feel as Skywalker does and not wish such an alliance, then I will understand but if you know my words to be true, speak now and do not let anyone silence you. I will leave you all to deliberate and decide the fate of this proposed alliance between your two groups and my own.”
With a bow of graceful thanks, Xol steps away from the table, anxiously awaiting the decision of the delegates stood before him. He knows that without them, he may never succeed.
TO BE CONTINUED...
