Ren-Do rubs his chin. "I suppose if you are on the run and someone might be after your escape pod we really should disable that and get out of here. Rin, Tok, could you plot a course out of here, just in case? I'll jettison the pod," he says, sealing off the escape pod before opening the door panel and fiddling with the controls for a while. With a soft hissing sound the pod is released from the ship and drifts slowly away.

He thinks about it for a moment. "In fact, if this vessel has any functional armaments, this might be the time to test them. If we blow up the pod before leaving this area of space it might slow down any pursuit. Best case scenario the Imperial pursuers might think Yates here perished with his escape pod."

[This bloody Empire, seems like they enjoy control at the end of a gun... but can we trust this Alderanian?] Rin acknowledges Ren-Do, not being here seems like a good idea, but calculating their next jump isn't the only task he will attempt on this ships odd computer systems. Working quickly Rin attempts to extract any relevant data from the escape pods navigation systems; previous jump coordinates, transponder codes of its original ship, even details on nearby ships when it made its last jump. [lets make sure whoever left this human doesn't catch up with us]

Rin dives into the cockpit under the pretence of calculating their next jump "Kellen buddy give me a hand will you? You have always been better with computers..." he pauses, waiting for the Devaroniam to sit down and the doors to close before telling him the plan.

"I think we should try extracting whatever navigation data we can from that escape pod before it's destroyed, let's see if we can't slice in and at least find out where it jumped from... wouldn't bloody want to end up there!" The two get to work, the value of having Kellen's expertise helps a lot, but Rins constant button mashing and miss understanding make an already daunting task impossible. With a sigh Kelley eventually looks at Rin with a look of "well that's it, you finally locked us out for good..."

The computational effort being put in by the ships computers is going to take a little while to clear, the rest of the crew may not know what the two where up to, but whoever uses the systems next is sure going to find it slow and frustrating.

Tok slips past the two ancient Jedi furiously punching away at the console and gives them a quizzical look.

Rin explains they were trying to extract the data from the escape pod, but have so far been stymied.

"Well, if everyone trusts him, why don't we just ask where he was coming from when he launched and not go there?" Tok asks the Dresellian. "Let's get that thing detached, blow it and get out of here. Can you plot a series of short jumps so we can put some space between us and here? That way we'll have a bit of breathing room and time to figure out what's on this datastick."

"Bloody trusting of him aren't you? Bahh, ok Kellen let's get out of here" Rin flips a couple of switches and gives up on the escape pod. Without speaking he begins planning a series of 5 to 10 minute jumps around nearby systems to throw off any persuit, before thinking about a longer jump to one of these more interesting planets they now have information on.

Kellen exited the escape pod, gesturing that Iskander should walk down the hallway towards the common crew area.

"So, Yates, medic from Alderaan, how does one end up in an escape pod attached to a freighter in the middle of nowhere?"

Having given his orders as default captain of this vessel, Tok slips his hand into the cost pocket and wraps his fingers around the small leather bundle. "Of any of you need me, I'll be in the refresher. I still feel sullied from that holocron."

With a doorway now safely between him and the rest of the ramshackle crew, Tok pulls out the bundle for examination. It is a small thing, crudely tanned leather wrapped around a hard object and firmly secured with twine cording. When he unwraps the object, words burned into the other side of the leather are revealed. "Tok. I apologize for what you had to go through in that memory. The data stick contains information of value to yourself and the Jedi with whom you've made your company. This bundle is for you and your daughter. A fallen Master I may be, but a Master I still am. Give this to your daughter when she is ready. Micc'm."

The hard object inside the leather scroll/wrap is an uncut, unpolished clear crystal about the size of a lime. It softly radiates the Force.

Sonya explores the ship. "Engineering could work for a training area... maybe some of those tools can be used to repair a lightsabre... the galley, this might be food for some species, I don't know if any of us can eat it, certainly not Devaronians. I should have paid more attention in those xenology classes."

She quietly enters the room where the others are talking to Yates. "This will help in learning to speak Modern, if nothing else." She thinks, moving to stand in an out of the way corner.

Garon did not follow the rest of the group when they had heard the commotion within the airlock. The pain in his arm was so bad, he almost wished that it truly was severed.

The vision still weighed heavily on his mind. Master Hakkar wouldn't have approved of my actions in the Holocron. It was pretty stupid of me to charge that Sith. Well Hakkar, I guess I paying for it now. Are ya happy?

The return of the crew with a new comer snapped him out of his thoughts

Who the blast is this guy?!

When no one answered, The Besalisk willed himself out of his chair. He winced at the pain, but tried his best to ignore it.

It seemed that the prune-head and Kellen were busying themselves on the navcomputer. Clearly they were trying to plot the best course out of here. Rather than helping, he saw that Tok had excused himself to the refresher.

That blasted gotal. Garon grumbled to himself Why the blast didn't he tell us he was being blackmailed?

There was nothing for it. He had to have a talk with him.

He waited outside of the 'fresher door. When Veltok emerged, Garon was waiting. We should talk.

For my daughter?, Tok thinks. Does that mean...

The Gotal is lost in thought momentarily, considering all of the possible implications of Micc'm's gift. His previous animosity toward the fallen master finishes falling completely away as he wraps the crystal back in its packaging and places it back inside his inner breast pocket.

Exiting the refresher he very nearly walks headlong into Garon and cranes his neck in an effort to look the Besalisk in the eye.

"We should talk," Garon says, expectation hanging heavily off the three words.

"Yes, I suppose we should," Tok replies, slipping to Garon's side and retrieving the bottle of Corellian whiskey he'd found prior to them getting pulled into the holocron. He pours two fingers worth into two glasses and holds one out for the Besalisk.

"Really though, there's not much else to say. I've laid it out as clearly as I can. Honestly, despite what the archaeologists were saying, I was pretty sure none of you were alive in those tubes. Delivering some long-dead beings for a life-changing payday was a no-brainer. Everything became a lot more complicated when you all started waking up."

Tok takes a sip from his glass and rubs his eyes.

"It's continued to get increasingly more complicated every step of the way. I don't expect that's going to change," he says, thinking specifically of what Micc'm's message portends for Morra.

Garon took the offered drink and downed a sizable portion. The liquid burned his throat but the pain in his arm was already beginning to numb.

I can't pretend like I know what you're going through. Kids just aren't in the cards for me, but I shouldn't have to tell you that I don't like being lied to. Just look at what happened in the Holocron.

His tone suddenly became bitter

They say that the Sith's weapons are death and deception, but the Jedi aren't all that different. They just disguise their lies as wisdom and their killing as regrettable justice. The Masters are the worst about it. I don't think they liked me too much. Hakkar was good to me, though.

He nodded to the general direction of the ship where the rest of the crew was. Those guys seem like good people, but they got the look about them of people who know exactly where their place is in life. They didn't have the same experience I did in the Jedi Order.

The Besalisk scratched the scar on his face. When next he spoke he no longer had the rough edge in his voice. Sorry for rambling. The point is, I aint like them. If you are honest with me, I'll be straight with you. But our lives are on the line and we can't hold stuff like this back. That's no way to deal with it.

So. What are their names?

Iskander, gear in hand, follows the Devonian male to the common area and takes a seat. He heard something from the Devonian as he past him, but the accent is too thick to understand. Though, it is easy enough to figure that everyone is a little curious on how he showed up. He sets his gear on the ground and gathers a breath.

"As I said, my name is Iskander Yates. I'm a from Alderaan and a trained combat medic." He gives a moment of pause. "A couple of weeks ago, I finished my tour of duty and discharged from the Imperial Army. I took the first ship off planet so that I could go back home to Alderaan to ply my trade as a medic. It was a medium freighter about twice the size of this vessel. The first couple of days were quiet and interesting." Iskander says with a smile. "I was able to go outside of the regimen that was ingrained in me. I could grow my hair out. I could go eat when I wanted to, and I didn't have to use that stupid ******* code phrase I had to. I'm not a series of numbers, I'm a person. I am not MD-212, I am Iskander Yates."

Iskander shakes his head before continuing, "But I digress. A few days ago the freighter was attacked by an Imperial Navy Stardestroyer. I don't know who made it out, but they didn't seem like bringing anyone alive." Iskander already had the pain of that thought cross his mind, but saying it in front of others brought back up some tears, and the memories of the village. The fire and the screams.

Silence fills the air as Iskander goes quiet.

"If you don't mind my asking," Xaramis broaches the subject carefully, aware that he may be treading on very sensitive ground for the man. "Why did you leave the Empire? My understanding was that they usually kept you on as long as you were combat-effective and of use to them; through benefits or other means. Why were you able to drop out?"

Kellen sat back and observed Iskander. Xaramis would conduct a more competent light interrogation as he hadn't been asleep for thousands of years. But Kellen was sure that his skills at spotting deception were still relevant and so he watched and listened.

Perhaps Iskander Yates was a lost soul like the rest of them but maybe something more insidious and it fell the the Sentinels to be less open and more skeptical in their watch against the dark side and it's minions...

“So. What are their names?”

Tok refills Garon’s glass and pulls another sip from his own while stealing a glance toward the cockpit to see how the astrogation calculations are proceeding. Putting his glass down, he then slowly pulls his blasters from their holsters, spins them on his index fingers so he’s holding them by the barrels and rotates his palms up so the Besalisk can see the inscriptions on the inner side of their bodies.

“Janna and Morra...,” Tok says, lifting the right gun slightly higher first and then the left, indicating which is which just in case the galactic basic alphabet changed in the past 4,000 years. Over his shoulder he calls to the cockpit. “Rin, I need to show Garon something. We’ll be back up here in a few moments. Get the navicomputer programmed and we’ll make the jumps when I get back.”

Holstering the guns and finishing his drink, he turns his attention back to Garon. “The whole story? C’mon.”

Tok leads Garon to the cargo bay and then accesses the secret inner hold containing the holocomm suite. He takes a deep breath, looks again to Garon and presses play.

A man's voice "off-screen" says, "Go on, sweetie. Say hello to your father."

The little girl's smile grows bigger, showing a missing front tooth. She jumps up and down, waving her arms excitedly. "Athair! I miss you! Come home soon!"

The image pans away from the girl to show a human man, hooded and cloaked. The shadow of the hood hides his upper face, but his scarred chin and short bristle beard show a smile less of happiness and more of dark mirth. "Greetings, Veltok. You know who I am."

The smile fades, and the man leans forward. "You are taking far longer than expected on this assignment. This displeases me, but not too greatly. I am being treated generously as a guest in your home by your spouse and offspring. Not to worry. I am alone and I will not harm them, provided you come through on your side of the deal. By the time you read this message, you 'employer's' ship will have been pulled out of hyperspace by an ISB ADZ-class destroyer. It is carrying one or possibly more of my personal servants. I can never be sure. Some of them prefer to travel alone, others prefer company of their fellows. While my servants are only there to make sure the experimental hyperspace tractor beam on the destroyer works as intended, the ISB agents on this particular vessel tend to be rather bloodthirsty. If they haven't started killing your companions, they soon will be. You are required to leave the vessel with whatever materials from the dig site you can and bring them to these coordinates for further instruction."

A series of galactic coordinates flashes on the holographic image next to the man's head. "I trust your discretion on this matter. And I trust you will be able to escape before you meet an untimely end. You have done well for me, Veltok. I ensure you will do well for yourself. Otherwise..." The image panned to show Tok's wife and daughter. Morra was playing with some toys. Janna, tired and worried looking, also appearing to be several months into a pregnancy, was sitting near to her. "...they may meet an untimely end as well. I await your next report."

Tok’s eyes are closed when the message finishes.

“She didn’t tell me we had another one on the way,” he says, eyes still closed. “I’m guessing she wanted it to be a surprise.”

As the recording progressed, Garon grew more and more disgusted. By the time it had finished, the Besalisk didn't even know what to say.

Once the silence became too uncomfortable for him he finally said And the others are busy trying to find crystals this piece of slag... I...

He was so angry that he didn't even know what to say or do until another thought crossed his mind.

Wait. That guy looks kind of familiar.

EDITED

"That's my home he's settled himself into," Tok says, spitting out the words. "I want you to know the course I had Rin plot after we got away from the Imperials wasn't a trap. I don't even know where he wanted me to meet him."

The Gotal runs the recording back to the set of coordinates that flashed up during the message.

"It should be easy enough to put these into the navicomputer and see what turns up, but it might be a better idea to just use star charts."

He closes his eyes again and rubs his temples.

"If anything happens to them, I..." he trails off, unsure how to even finish his thought. "I should get back to the cockpit and make the hyperspace jumps. If Yates is being followed we might not have much time."

He looks back at Garon before leaving the cargo hold.

"If you'll talk to them, I'd be grateful."

EDITED

Iskander wipes his face and looks at the Falleen. How much should he tell these people? What would they do to him? But the thought occurs, Iskander chose the path of risk and he still is alive. "You're right. The Imperial military does not let go of its "equipment" easily. I am thinking that it was a ploy so that I could be dealt with discreetly and ruthlessly. Like the government should do to pirates, traitors, and the such."

Iskander leans back in his seat, chuckling with no mirth in his eyes or voice. "I left because I saw what the Empire really is, and boy, do I have a story for you." He motions for the people there to take a seat, but continues without really waiting.

"I am from an assault platoon in the Imperial Army. We are,. . . were tasked with the missions that required hard and fast motions. You wanted an entrenchment taken, we were the first ones in. I served as the medical officer for my platoon, thirty or so men and women to keep in tip top form." Iskander's eyes pass from each person present to the next. "We were assigned to an ISB, Imperial Security Bureau, ship. Some mission about rooting out terrorists in this or that Outer Rim System," waving his hand in a noncommittal manner. "We go down to this village that is reported to be a major meeting place for leaders of some minor terrorist outfit, Abuique or some nonsense. Standard protocol says that we are to set up a perimeter and observe until we get a conformation. But nope, ISB comms in." Iskander does air quotes as he says, "Move in. Latest report is that all villagers are members of Abuique and must be terminated. No Quarter. Proceed for the glory of the Empire and the Emperor."

The disgust and vemon in Iskander's voice is seeping through each of the last few words. "First squad opens up on the village and within a few moments, there is blaster bolts flying through the air on both sides. The soldier on my left drops, a smoking hole in his shoulder. I do my **** job and get to patching him up. That's when I hear the Lieutenant order a TIE squad to bring air support. I don't know what the buildings there were made of, but they sure did start burning. Things end soon after that. Pick up is made, and ISB congratulates the platoon for their loyalty and patriotism. Last thing I remember is that we never did find those Abuique leaders and that there were no real weapons in that village. Next thing I do is make sure that I get out of my tour of duty as fast as possible and go live a quiet life." Iskander laughs again and continues, "But I guess ISB wants to keep things quiet and make sure I have a quiet death."

Sudden realization hits Iskander as the blood drains from his face, "Oh no. If they were willing to blow up an unarmed freighter, ISB might go after my family. If my remains aren't found, the Empire has my records."

"Hey Kellen, that Holocron vision was a bit bloody rough and I'm not sure what to make of it. Let's hope these coordinates take us somewhere useful and are not some veiled test from a twisted memory of a mentor."

Rin keeps taping away at the navcomp inputs, deleting almost as much as he types thanks to the stupidly laid out controls. [bloody modern technology...] but Kellen is patient and points him in the right direction a couple of times.

"there are a bunch of ways to get through to that system, but this path uses some nice slingshots off gravity wells, we should make for a quick journey"

With a final beep the navigation route completed, the calculations finalised and they are ready to go.

Rins deep voice rings out as he bellows down the hall "Hey Tok, its done, can I make the jump now?"

"Hang on," Tok says, entering the cockpit.

The ship's targeting controls are transferred to the pilot's station with the push of a few buttons. A lever pull releases Yates's escape pod from the small freighter and with a squeeze of the trigger on the steering yoke the pod is reduced to floating slag.

"Now we're ready," he says, activating the ship's hyperdrive and sending them hurtling through the galaxy.

A single hyperdrive jump to the coordinates would normally have only taken a few hours, but since Run had programmed the route to the destination as a series of short jumps, the journey takes a full Galactic standard day. When the Serenity exits hyperspace, it is just outside orbit of Munto Codru...

"Iskander, is there a part of the Imperial military that wears black uniforms without any insignia? Do they have anything to do with the Inquisitorius? Asking for a friend, I am"

Chiding herself for letting the traditional Devaronian addition to possibly sensitive questions slip out, Sonya braces as the ship jumps to hyperspace then begins planning a training routine as she awaits the human's response.

With hard pressed thought, Iskander is finally able to cut through the accent of most of the crew he met. He took a second to think over what the female Devonian said.

"Inquisitorius? What is that?" Iskander asks. "I don't know if any group that would be like that. Maybe an undercover ISB agent, but I don't know. Where did you see these black uniform wearing people? Can you tell me what they might do for the Empire?"