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| - It was dark in Tarakus's hut, as his computer console started chiming with an incoming code. Tarakus himself, jumped out of bed, and looked over at his computer. As he sauntered over to his enormous console shelf, an unrecognizable code flashed on the screen. He sat down in front of the console and started analyzing the code. "What the. .?" He uttered in confusion. The code, in his native Tristchanian Minestrian tongue, looked as discombobulated and disjointed as any he had ever seen, as he thought in the back of his mind, that the sender was more used to Basic, than his native tongue, leaving several possible factions as senders: The Shadow Empire, which he had dismantled, the moment he sent it into the Interdimensional Rift Zone, the Taundril, a group that Tarakus had run into about 10 y
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| abstract
| - It was dark in Tarakus's hut, as his computer console started chiming with an incoming code. Tarakus himself, jumped out of bed, and looked over at his computer. As he sauntered over to his enormous console shelf, an unrecognizable code flashed on the screen. He sat down in front of the console and started analyzing the code. "What the. .?" He uttered in confusion. The code, in his native Tristchanian Minestrian tongue, looked as discombobulated and disjointed as any he had ever seen, as he thought in the back of his mind, that the sender was more used to Basic, than his native tongue, leaving several possible factions as senders: The Shadow Empire, which he had dismantled, the moment he sent it into the Interdimensional Rift Zone, the Taundril, a group that Tarakus had run into about 10 years ago, while working privately in the Collubroid regions of Karakrishtaller, the Imperial Remnant, headed by Jagged Fel, but privately run by Grand Moff Richon Barcünaveris, in some regions, and the Alliance, a faction within the Ordinance that hung onto the frozen moon of Junepra, Prolifuria. He opened the code package, and realized that the sender was in fact, Richon Barcünaveris. His holocommunicator activated on its own, revealing the Grand Moff Dragon scientist. Tarakus, astonished by Richon's move, walked over to his holocommunicator. "Richon, you have a lot of guts, showing your face here!" Tarakus hissed, with no amusement in his voice, whatsoever. "I was hoping for a better welcome committee, Tarakus, but I guess this will do as well. I need your assistance in a particular issue. It appears that my old collegue, Natasi Daala, has turned to carboniting Jedi in a state of insanity. I have been called upon to inspect the carbonited Jedi, and check on their condition. I'm wondering if it's possible that you might accompany me to Coruscant, and perhaps persuade her to change her mind about her mistake." Tarakus turned the thought over for a few moments, before looking back up at Richon and saying, "I have plans of my own, that involve the Chief of State. I'll go with you, Richon, but for my own purposes. I think you and I both have the same thing in mind, when it comes to her actions, Richon." "Indeed. Get her out of office as soon as possible, with relatively little disturbance." Richon replied. "Exactly." Tarakus said, getting into his tunic. "Where can we meet, Richon?" "Meet me, King Harlan Takanagamo, and the Tristchanian Imperial Fleet that's coming, in orbit of Borleias. We will go from there, to Coruscant." "Borleias it is." Tarakus said, just before shutting his holocommunicator off. He grabbed his weapons belt, loaded with his energy blades and whip, and rushed to the Tepagastra Sandman. - - - - - -Takanagamo Relenter Borleias orbit Richon Barcünaveris paced on the bridge of Harlan's Elite-Class Catarian Super Battle Ship, the Takanagamo Relenter, in his bright white jumpsuit, which sported his Grand Moff badge. "Are you sure this is what you want to do, Harlan? Upset the Galactic Alliance?" Richon said, concern tainting his voice. "Of course it is. This is something we need to do, Richon. It's what we need to do to help the Jedi out of their predicament." Harlan replied, as he sat in his command chair. The crew, a mix of Tristchanian Imperial and Imperial Remnant men and women of various races, worked at their stations. Richon looked up at Harlan, still curious as to what Tarakus was planning. "I'm very uneasy about it. Natasi and I go a long ways back." "Yes. I realize that. The Maw, sixty years ago." "Well, let me go in first, Harlan. I want to do the civilized chat first, before Tarakus comes in and blows his selected fuses." "Ok."
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