Mission Briefing: The Underground Installation

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Korriban – 0 AFP

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Two months had passed since our mission in Korriban began. The desert world, bathed in its ominous red hue, remained as unwelcoming as ever. Even now, with our forces stationed in orbit aboard Hope, the lingering darkness of this forsaken place pressed against me like a shadow threatening to consume the light.

And yet, we were making progress.

After my visit with Hannah, the Sith Acolyte we had captured, I made my way to the bridge, where Major Ikarus and Admiral Tempra were waiting. The tension in the air was palpable, even before I spoke.

"So, Admiral, anything unusual in space? Any secret transmissions intercepted? Any clues about the rumored Sith outpost?" I asked as I approached the holo-table, where a three-dimensional image of Korriban flickered with ever-changing data streams.

Admiral Tempra tapped a few keys, enlarging an image. "A few minutes ago, our sensors picked up a faint life sign beneath the surface, located deep beneath the ruins of the Temple of Sorzus Syn—one of the first Dark Jedi exiled from the Order after the Great Jedi Civil War."

I folded my arms, my mind racing. Sorzus Syn was infamous in Jedi history. She was not only a Dark Jedi, but also one of the key figures in forging the Sith species into an empire. If there was still a Sith presence beneath her temple, then we had a serious problem.

Major Ikarus stepped forward. "Sir, if I may…"

I glanced at him. "Go ahead, Major."

"There's a special squad stationed on Hope, known as Ghost Squad. General Ti mentioned them briefly, but they haven't been officially introduced yet. They're specialists in infiltration, espionage, assassination, and reconnaissance."

Ikarus continued, "If anyone can infiltrate this Sith facility without being detected, it's them."

I nodded. "Alright. Let's meet them."

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The training quarters were eerily silent when we arrived.

As the doors slid open, the first thing I noticed was the destruction—the remains of BX-series Commando Droids, their limbs severed and their metallic bodies sprawled across the floor. My internal counter estimated at least 182 of them, meaning whoever was inside had completely dismantled an entire battalion of combat droids.

Three clones, clad in sleek, black Phase II armor with red-tinted visors, stood amid the wreckage, their weapons still humming with residual heat. Each bore different equipment, and as they turned to face us, I immediately sensed their lethality.

I took a step forward and gave a simple command. "Troops, at ease."

They straightened but didn't fully relax. These were professionals, trained for the highest levels of covert warfare.

I motioned toward their helmets. "Remove them. I want to see who I'm working with."

One by one, the clones removed their helmets, revealing three distinct individuals.

The first stepped forward, his dark hair shaved on the sides, revealing a deep scar running down his temple. His presence alone carried an air of authority and discipline.

"Blade, reporting for duty, sir." His voice was calm, almost indifferent. "Close-quarters combat specialist. I carry two curved blades—one made of Cortosis, one of Osmiridium—as well as a DL-44 quickdraw blaster."

The second, smirking, gave a mock salute before speaking.

"Active and operational, sir. Codename: Gunner. Close-range marksman and cover fire expert. I carry two Westar-34 revolvers, one modified for ionization."

His armor bore customized holsters, positioned for quickdraw capabilities—perfect for guerrillla tactics.

Then, the third stepped forward.

Unlike the others, she was female.

"Tracer, reporting. Precision shooter and recon specialist. My DC-15x sniper rifle has been modified for both biological and droid targets. Matte-black for stealth."

Her features were sharp, her black hair tied back, exposing cybernetic enhancements around her left eye, likely an advanced targeting interface.

I nodded. "You've got two hours to prepare for an infiltration and intelligence recovery mission. Expect Force-sensitive hostiles, possible Sith warriors. Your objective: locate the underground installation and retrieve any data available."

They saluted, then dispersed.

I turned to Tempra. "Prep the Royal Harpy— Asli has been restless sitting around without a mission."

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With the Ghost Squad preparing, I had one last stop before finalizing the mission plan.

Hannah's psychological profile had intrigued me since day one. She wasn't like the Sith Acolytes we had fought before—she was different. Less aggressive, more guarded. There was fear behind her mask, and fear was something I could use.

Her cell was dimly lit, her wrists still bound by anti-Force shackles. She sat cross-legged, her gaze sharp but weary.

As I entered, she smirked. "Look, an inexpected visit. Here to torture me some more, Jedi?"

I leaned against the wall, crossing my arms. "No. I'm here to talk. Jedi are also therapists, you know."

She scoffed. "How noble. So what now? More questions? More mind tricks?"

I sighed. "No mind tricks. Just honesty. Why do you serve the Sith? What do you actually believe in?"

Her expression flickered for a moment—hesitation.

Good. She wasn't completely lost yet.

"I was taken as a child. Raised in the Academy. I had no choice."

I tilted my head. "And yet, your eyes aren't yellow anymore. That means something."

She flinched but said nothing.

I took a step closer. "You've spent two months among Jedi. Among soldiers who fight for each other, not out of fear, but loyalty. You've seen another way. I can see it. You're not like them, Hannah. You never were."

She clenched her fists. "It doesn't matter. My master will come for me."

I knelt beside her. "What if I told you that you could fight back? That you don't have to live in fear anymore?"

Her lips parted slightly. Uncertainty.

I had planted a seed.

I stood up. "Think about it. We leave for the surface soon. If you're truly ready to leave your past behind, then prove it. Help me destroy what enslaved you."

I turned to leave.

As the cell door closed behind me, I felt it in the Force—

A shift.

She was breaking free.

And soon, she would have a choice to make.

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