Imperial Supply Depot, Eastern Sector, Ryloth | 19 BBY
Darkness on Ryloth wasn't absence of light but a presence of its own, thick and textured, alive with the sounds of nocturnal creatures that had learned to thrive in the spaces humans avoided.
We approached the depot on foot after abandoning the speeders two klicks out. Standard infiltration protocol: minimize noise, maximize stealth, become part of the landscape rather than intruders moving through it. The Force moved around me in currents that mapped terrain and threats with greater precision than any tactical display, showing me where guards patrolled and where shadows offered concealment.
The depot rose from the canyon floor like a wound in the rock, prefabricated Imperial architecture that prioritized function over aesthetic. Floodlights created pools of harsh illumination separated by stretches of darkness. Guard towers anchored each corner, their automated turrets sweeping predetermined arcs with mechanical patience.
Hera's intelligence had been accurate. Forty soldiers, give or take. Stormtroopers in white plastoid armor that would make them easy targets once the shooting started. The communications array sat exactly where the schematics had indicated, a cluster of antennae and relay equipment protected by a chain-link fence and two guards who looked bored enough to be dangerous.
Bored guards made mistakes. But they also noticed anything that broke the monotony.
The system pulsed with information I was already processing through Force-enhanced awareness.
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TACTICAL OVERLAY ACTIVE
Hostile Count: 37 Imperials
Ally Count: 12 Rebels
Environmental Factors: Low visibility, uneven terrain
Recommended Approach: Stealth until compromise, then overwhelming force
Mission Objectives:
[1] Disable communications - PENDING
[2] Free prisoners - PENDING
[3] Secure weapons - PENDING
[4] Extract alive - PENDING
Current Success Probability: 64.3%
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Sixty-four percent. Better odds than I'd had against the Fifth Brother, but those odds assumed everything went according to plan. In my experience, plans rarely survived first contact with reality.
I signaled the team to hold position and moved forward alone. The Force compressed my presence into something barely noticeable, a technique I'd been practicing since Alderaan. Not true invisibility but close enough that the human eye wanted to slide past me without registering anything worth remembering.
The fence was standard Imperial issue. Electrified enough to discourage casual climbers but not lethally so. I could have cut through with my lightsaber but that meant light and noise and immediate compromise. Instead I reached into the Force and felt for the power junction box mounted on the nearest support post.
The lock was electronic, controlled by a simple circuit that responded to binary input. Master Drallig had taught me basic technical manipulation during my second year of training, drilling the skill until I could bypass most civilian security. Military hardware was more challenging but the principle remained the same: find the weak point and apply pressure until something gave.
The lock clicked open with a sound like breaking glass.
I reached inside and disabled the electrical current, felt the fence's hum die into silence. Cut a hole large enough to slip through and moved toward the communications array while the guards smoked death sticks and complained about the heat.
Their conversation carried clearly in the still air. One was from Corellia, missing home and wondering why he'd signed up for garrison duty on a backwater world. The other was career military, older, resigned to whatever posting the Empire assigned. Neither seemed particularly alert.
I reached the array's control panel and pulled out the code-breaking tool Hera had provided. The device worked faster than I expected, cycling through encryption protocols until it found one that worked. The panel's display went dark as communications cut out, severing the depot's connection to the wider Imperial network.
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Objective Complete: Disable communications
+50 XP
Mission Status: STEALTH MAINTAINED
Recommended Action: Proceed to next objective
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The guards noticed something was wrong three seconds later. The Corellian one stepped toward the array, his weapon coming up as training overrode boredom. "Hey, something's not right. The relay just..."
I moved before he could finish the thought. Drew my lightsaber and ignited it in a single motion, the blue blade casting harsh shadows across prefabricated walls. The Corellian's eyes went wide with recognition and terror. He tried to bring his blaster to bear but I was already there, inside his guard, my blade taking him through the chest.
The older trooper was faster. Got two shots off before my weapon found him, bolts that screamed past close enough to feel the heat. I deflected the third back into his chest plate and he went down without a sound.
Alarms shrieked to life across the depot. So much for stealth.
My commlink crackled. Numa's voice cut through the wailing sirens. "We're compromised. Moving to prisoners now. Gobi, start your run."
"Copy that." Gobi sounded calm despite the chaos. Professional. The kind of person who'd done this enough times to stay functional when everything went sideways.
I sprinted toward the prisoner holding area, guided by Hera's schematics and the Force's whispered warnings about threats converging on my position. Stormtroopers poured from barracks doors, their white armor stark against darkness. I didn't slow down. Couldn't afford to. The plan had been stealth but now it was speed and violence, finishing the mission before overwhelming force could organize itself.
A squad of troopers rounded a corner ahead and opened fire. I threw up a Force barrier on instinct, felt the impacts ring against it like hammer on anvil. The drain was immediate, pulling at reserves already compromised by healing injuries. I held the barrier for three seconds, then dropped it and launched forward.
Form IV at full commitment. Ataru in the way Master Drallig had drilled into me until it became reflex. I became a whirlwind of motion and blue light, my blade finding gaps in armor and turning disciplined soldiers into casualties. The violence should have bothered me more than it did. These were people, serving what they believed was legitimate authority.
But they were also the enemy. And hesitation got you killed.
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Skill Usage: Lightsaber Combat (Form IV)
Multiple Targets Engaged
+15 XP per confirmed kill
Stamina: 68%
Warning: Approaching exhaustion threshold
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The prisoner holding area was a converted storage building, reinforced doors and no windows. Numa's team had reached it ahead of me, taking cover behind cargo crates while stormtroopers fired from defensive positions. I saw Tann go down, a bolt taking him in the leg, his brother Krill dragging him behind cover while returning fire.
I reached into the Force and found the heavy bolts securing the prisoner door. Ripped them free with a mental yank that sent metal shrieking across permacrete. The door swung open and Twi'lek prisoners stumbled out, blinking in the harsh light, confused and terrified.
"Move!" Numa shouted at them in Ryl, gesturing toward the depot's rear exit where Gobi was supposed to be planting charges. "Follow the corridor and don't stop!"
Most of them ran. A few froze, too traumatized or disoriented to process commands. I grabbed the nearest one, a young female who couldn't have been more than fifteen, and physically pushed her toward the exit. "Go! Now!"
She ran.
More stormtroopers converged from the garrison's north side. Too many. The system's tactical overlay flashed warnings about hostile numbers exceeding manageable thresholds. We needed to extract before the situation became untenable.
Gobi's voice crackled over the commlink. "Charges set. Give me three minutes to clear the blast radius."
Three minutes. An eternity in combat time. I moved to where Numa's team was pinned down and deflected a volley of blaster fire that would have torn through their cover. The rebels used the opening to fall back toward the exit corridor, dragging Tann between them.
A bolt caught Krill in the chest. He staggered, tried to keep moving, and collapsed. His brother screamed something in Ryl and tried to turn back but Numa grabbed him, physically hauled him toward the exit while Gobi and I covered the retreat.
I should have saved Krill. Should have been faster, better, more aware. The thought carved through me with surgical precision even as I kept moving, kept deflecting, kept buying seconds for people to escape.
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Ally Casualty Detected
Krill - Status: KIA
Mission Morale Impact: -10%
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The system quantified loss like it was just another tactical variable. Numbers on a readout instead of a person who'd been alive three seconds ago. I wanted to rage at the detachment, at the way it reduced death to statistics, but there wasn't time.
We ran through the exit corridor while explosions bloomed behind us. Gobi's charges detonating on schedule, turning the munitions storage into a fireball that lit up the night. The shockwave hit my back like a physical blow, sent me stumbling forward into open air beyond the depot's perimeter.
The team kept moving, carrying wounded and herding freed prisoners toward where we'd stashed the speeders. Behind us, the depot burned. Imperial soldiers were trying to contain the fires, organize pursuit, but the chaos bought us the minutes we needed to disappear into Ryloth's canyon system.
Two klicks out, we stopped long enough to assess casualties. Tann's leg wound was serious but survivable if we got him to medical facilities. Three prisoners had minor injuries from their captivity. And Krill was dead, left behind in the depot because there'd been no time to recover his body.
Numa stood apart from the group, staring back toward the burning depot. I approached carefully, unsure what to say. Sorry felt inadequate. We succeeded felt insensitive. So I just stood beside her in silence.
"He was twenty-three," she said quietly. "Signed up because the Empire took his sister during a raid last year. Thought maybe he could make a difference."
"He did."
"Did he?" She turned to look at me, her eyes carrying something too complex to parse. Not anger, exactly. Not grief. Something between them. "We freed twelve prisoners. Lost one of ours. The math works out favorably but the math doesn't know Krill's name."
I didn't have an answer for that. The Jedi taught that death was part of the Force, that mourning the dead was attachment that led to suffering. But the teaching felt hollow here, inadequate to the reality of loss.
We returned to camp as dawn broke, exhausted and bloody and carrying both victory and casualties. The freed prisoners were processed through medical, given food and shelter and the promise of transportation to somewhere safer. The team dispersed to rest and recover.
I found a quiet corner of the camp and sat with my back against stone, feeling the weight of choices settle into my bones. Krill's death hadn't been my fault, exactly. Combat carried inherent risks that no amount of skill or Force ability could eliminate. But I'd led the operation. Had accepted responsibility for keeping these people alive.
And I'd failed one of them.
The system pulsed.
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QUEST COMPLETE: Strike in the Dark
Objectives Achieved: 4/4
Casualties: 1 Rebel KIA, 1 Rebel WIA
Prisoners Freed: 12
Weapons Secured: Substantial cache
Performance Rating: B+
+400 XP
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LEVEL UP!
Level 14 → 15
+3 Attribute Points available
+1 Perk Point available
New class evolution options unlocked
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LOOT ACQUIRED:
[Imperial Datapad - Encrypted]
[Stormtrooper Armor - Damaged]
[Military-grade Commlink]
[Various weapons and equipment]
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B+ for a mission where someone died. The system's clinical assessment felt like mockery. I dismissed the notifications and pulled out the Imperial datapad we'd recovered, started working on decryption while the camp slowly came back to life around me.
The encryption was military-grade but not as sophisticated as it could have been. Either the Empire was getting complacent or this particular officer hadn't been important enough to rate the best security. I worked through the protocols methodically, let the code-breaking tool Hera had provided do its work while I supplemented with Force-enhanced intuition.
Three hours later, the datapad unlocked.
Most of the contents were mundane. Supply manifests, patrol schedules, requisition requests. But buried in a subfolder marked "Intelligence Briefings," I found something that made my breath catch.
A report on potential Jedi survivors. Fragmentary intelligence, mostly rumors and unconfirmed sightings. But there were locations. Raada, a backwater world in the Outer Rim. Possible Force-sensitive activity detected in the Anoat sector. Unconfirmed reports of a lightsaber being used on Thabeska.
Most of it was probably nothing. The Empire chasing shadows and turning frightened civilians into suspects. But some of it might be real. Might be actual Jedi who'd survived the purge and were trying to stay hidden.
Might be Ahsoka.
The thought hit with unexpected force. I'd been avoiding thinking about her, pushing the possibility of her survival into a mental compartment I didn't examine too closely. Because hope was dangerous. Hope meant setting yourself up for disappointment when reality inevitably crushed it.
But the datapad gave me something concrete. Not certainty but direction. A place to start looking beyond simple survival.
Cham Syndulla found me that evening while I was still studying the decrypted files. He was older than I'd expected, gray creeping into his lekku, his face marked by scars that told a lifetime of stories. But his eyes were sharp, assessing me with the focus of someone who'd learned to read people as a survival skill.
"Numa says you fought well." He sat down across from me without invitation. "Says you saved lives that would have been lost without you."
"I also got one of your people killed."
"Krill knew the risks. We all do." He said it matter-of-factly, without the false comfort people usually offered. "This isn't the first loss we've suffered and it won't be the last. The Empire is grinding us down, one raid at a time. But we keep fighting because the alternative is worse."
I didn't have a response to that. Just nodded and waited for whatever came next.
"You're welcome to stay," Cham said. "We could use someone with your... abilities. Force-user, trained fighter, tactical mind. You'd be an asset to the resistance."
The offer hung in the air between us, weighted with implications. Stay meant commitment. Meant fighting the Empire directly, accepting the burden of leadership and the costs that came with it. Meant more nights like this one, where victory and loss became indistinguishable in the weight they carried.
"I can't," I said finally. "The Inquisitors are hunting me specifically. Staying puts your entire operation at risk. The Empire would bring more resources to bear than you can handle just to capture one Jedi."
Cham studied me for a long moment. "You think running protects us?"
"I think it gives you a chance to build something sustainable without Imperial attention destroying it."
He was quiet, weighing my reasoning against whatever argument he'd prepared. Finally he nodded. "I understand. But the offer stands if you change your mind. The resistance needs people like you."
He left before I could respond. I sat alone as evening settled into night, feeling the weight of choices already made and those still coming.
Hera found me an hour later carrying a small case. "Heard you're leaving." She set the case down beside me. "Ship parts. Upgraded hyperdrive motivator, improved shield generators, some other bits that might keep you alive longer. Consider it payment for what you did."
"I was just..."
"Don't." She cut me off gently. "You saved my people. Saved prisoners who would have died in labor camps. That deserves more than credits." She paused. "Where will you go?"
I gestured at the datapad. "Following leads. Trying to find other survivors."
"Good luck, then." She offered a tired smile. "Try not to crash any more escape pods on your way."
The joke broke some of the tension. I returned the smile and accepted the case, felt the weight of it as both gift and burden. These people had fought beside me, bled beside me, lost one of their own while achieving objectives I'd helped plan.
And I was leaving them. Moving on to the next thing while they stayed and kept fighting.
The guilt felt familiar. Another weight to add to the collection I'd been accumulating since Order 66.
I spent two more days on Ryloth, healing enough to travel, helping where I could with camp security and training. Numa treated me with professional distance, not hostile but not warm either. I'd earned respect but not quite trust, which felt appropriate. Trust required time I couldn't give.
The morning I left, Cham provided credits and a list of contacts scattered through the Outer Rim. "People who might help. Might not. But they're not Imperial sympathizers, which is the best I can offer."
"It's more than I had yesterday."
He clasped my shoulder briefly. "May the Force be with you, Zett Jukassa. Try to stay alive long enough to make a difference."
The ship Hera had arranged was a modified light freighter, small enough to be inconspicuous but fast enough to run if things went wrong. I loaded my minimal possessions and the equipment they'd provided, performed the pre-flight checks with muscle memory from years of war.
As I lifted off, I took one last look at the resistance camp hidden in its canyon. Saw people moving through their routines, preparing for whatever came next. Fighting because the alternative was surrender.
Part of me wanted to stay. To commit fully to this resistance and find purpose in the structure it offered. But the datapad's intelligence pulled at me with greater force. The possibility of finding other Jedi, of discovering I wasn't alone in this transformed galaxy.
The possibility of finding Ahsoka.
The ship cleared Ryloth's atmosphere, and I the jump to hyperspace. Ord Mantell first... However, Raada would be next. It was a backwater world where rumor suggested Force-sensitive activity. Probably nothing. Probably just nervous Imperials seeing threats everywhere.
But maybe not. You never know nowadays.
The stars elongated into lines as the hyperdrive engaged. I sat in the pilot's seat and pulled up the system display one final time, reviewing character progression like studying a map of who I'd become.
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QUEST COMPLETE: Forge a New Path
All objectives achieved
Major Rewards Granted:
+500 XP
+2 Perk Points
New quest chain unlocked: [FIND THE SURVIVORS]
Reputation: Ryloth Resistance (Trusted)
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CHARACTER STATUS - COMPREHENSIVE REVIEW
Name: Zett Jukassa
Level: 15
Class: Jedi Padawan(Class Evolution Available)
Titles:
- Survivor of the Purge
- Shadow Operative
- Inquisitor Slayer
HP: 1,200/1,200
FP: 700/700
Attributes:
STR: 18 | VIT: 22 | AGI: 25
INT: 16 | WIS: 17 | CHA: 13
LUK: 10
Unallocated Points: 4
Active Skills:
Lightsaber Combat: Lv. 16
- Form IV (Ataru): Lv. 18
- Form I (Shii-Cho): Lv. 12
- Form III (Soresu): Lv. 9
Force Sense: Lv. 11
Force Push: Lv. 8
Force Barrier: Lv. 6
Force Cushion: Lv. 1[NEW]
Force Stealth: Lv. 4
Meditation: Lv. 11
Persuasion: Lv. 7
Tactics: Lv. 7
Piloting: Lv. 8
Stealth: Lv. 5[NEW]
Available Perk Points: 3
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CLASS EVOLUTION OPTIONS AVAILABLE
Current Class: Jedi Padawan
Evolution Paths Unlocked:
[Jedi Guardian] - Combat specialist, enhanced physical abilities
[Jedi Shadow] - Stealth and investigation focus
[Gray Jedi] - Balanced approach, flexible morality
[Weapons Specialist] - Non-Force combat mastery
Note: Class evolution is permanent. Choose carefully.
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SKILL TREE EXPANSION
New branches visible:
- Advanced Force Techniques
- Specialized Combat Forms
- Leadership Abilities
- Technical Skills
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OPTIONAL QUESTS AVAILABLE
[Investigate Raada] - Follow intelligence about Force-sensitive activity
[Hunt Imperial Officers] - Target Empire command structure
[Master Form IV] - Achieve true mastery of Ataru
[Decode Imperial Intelligence] - Extract additional information from recovered data
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System Message:
Congratulations, Player. You have survived the opening trials and established yourself as a force in this transformed galaxy. The path ahead remains uncertain, but you are no longer the frightened Padawan who fled the Temple. Your choices will shape not only your fate but the fate of those you encounter.
The journey has only begun.
The galaxy awaits.
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I stared at the displays, at the quantified measurement of growth purchased through violence and loss. Level fifteen. Class evolution available. Skills that had increased through combat and necessity rather than formal training.
The class evolution options represented that choice made explicit. Guardian meant committing to the warrior path, becoming a weapon against the Empire. Shadow meant embracing the espionage and investigation, operating in darkness to fight darkness. Gray Jedi meant acknowledging that the old binary between light and dark had failed, that truth existed somewhere between those extremes.
I wasn't ready to choose. Not yet. The decision felt too permanent, too much like closing doors I might need later.
Instead I allocated the unspent attribute points carefully. Two to Wisdom, strengthening my connection to the Force. One to Agility. One to Luck, which had saved me more times than I wanted to acknowledge.
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Attributes Updated:
WIS: 17 → 19
AGI: 25 → 26
LUK: 10 → 11
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The changes rippled through me subtly. The Force became clearer, its currents easier to read and navigate. My body felt fractionally more responsive, as if the gap between thought and action had narrowed.
The Perk Points I saved for later, unwilling to commit without understanding what challenges waited ahead.
Hyperspace hummed around me, that peculiar sense of being nowhere and everywhere simultaneously. I sat in the pilot's seat and thought about Ahsoka. About the last time I'd seen her, that night on the landing platform when I'd tried and failed to convince her to stay with the Order.
She'd been right to leave. That realization carried the bitter taste of hindsight. The Order had failed her, had chosen politics over justice. And she'd walked away before it could fail her more catastrophically.
If she was alive, if the rumors in the Imperial datapad had any truth to them, she'd probably changed as much as I had. Adapted to the new reality in ways that would have been unthinkable before Order 66.
Maybe we'd find each other. Maybe we'd both have become people the other barely recognized.
Or maybe she was dead and I was chasing ghosts, clinging to hope because the alternative was too bleak to accept.
Either way, I had to try. Had to follow the leads and see where they went. Because the alternative was giving up, and Master Drallig hadn't trained me to give up.
The chronometer indicated six hours until we reached Ord Mantell. Six hours to rest, to prepare, to become whoever I needed to be for whatever waited there.
I closed the system displays and let hyperspace carry me toward uncertain futures, toward the possibility of finding fragments of what had been lost. Not the Jedi Order. That was gone, burned beyond recovery. But maybe individual Jedi, survivors like me who were learning to navigate this transformed galaxy.
Maybe family, in the only form that remained possible.