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N'kal, rotund and grubby member of the Cutthroats and affectionately dubbed 'the messenger boy' by his boss, waddled into the Burning deck. It was one of many contact points for his organization, like mail drops any message sent from a terminal in The Burning Deck went to an encrypted account that could only be accessed by there terminals. Only messages and communications from The Burning Deck went to this account and so someone had to check, that someone was usually N'Kal. He loved his job...

He sauntered to a terminal, logged in and scrutinized the various communications from clients. The usual lot he noticed, Informants in the CSA updating them on shipment changes and fleet movements. Something from Borra the Hutt requesting a meeting with Norongachi or 'Strom' as he had taken to calling himself these days. He sighed and wondered why he bothered, then spotted an unknown, saw the words 'High Paying' and was immediately interested. He viewed the message, it contained little in the way of details but requested a meeting in three days at a location of their choosing. He erased the messages and keyed off the terminal.

"Boss, its me, i'm at The Deck." N'Kal said into his comm as he walked over to an empty booth that was pretty secluded.

"Did you check the messages?" Came the staticy response.

"Of course i did..."

"Erase them when you were done?"

"Yes..." He said sounding very much like a child being lectured by a parent. "Do you want to know why i called or not?"

"Mind your tongue N'Kal...you aren't irreplaceable.." The voice was chilly and sent a shiver down the fat Pirates spine.

"Got some correspondence from an unknown, says high pay, light on details. Wants a meeting in three days." He replied after collecting himself.

"The Ninth Gate, Yag'dal Station. You know the place." The line went dead.

"Not even a thank you..." He muttered and made his way to the terminal again, thinking thoughts of how he could expose 'Strom' for what he was...A Sith....an Ex-Corpie and a former Prex to boot. Him and his 'luetenant' were into some real bad juju...he knew it...no on else did.
He punched up a reply. Detailing the place and point of contact and then wandered over to the bar for a drink. He'd done his job.

The Ninth gate was quiet. It was early still and the usual heavy ear bursting music loving patrons hadn't even begun to stir in their pits. The place was quiet, the music was low, the usual kind you'd find in anyone of the six cantinas aboard the station, the only discernible life to the place was a cleaning droid buffing the dance dance floor.

A scaffold had been erected against the far wall of the curved semicircle room, reaching up to the second and third floor balconies of the establishment that held bars and dance floors identical to each other. Without said scaffold it was doubtful that the upper balconies would remain up at all, as the extensive damage they had received in an unfortunate thermal detonator incident had ripped them to shreds.

On the third floor was the VIP room, it to was under going repairs its left wall currently in mid-replacement but Salem still sat on the newly purchased sofa and sipped at his whiskey watching something on a holo-screen.
He'd sunk a hefty sum into this place, especially since his scuffle with Rani, and he'd grown weary of looking over the various losses the night club was suffering. Besides he had business to attend to, a meeting that could prove lucrative was due to go down in this very place. He stood with a groan, his knee and lower back were still tender since his run in with the Dark Lord, and made his way down stairs. He had no idea what he was looking for, or who he was looking for but he'd have a look anyway.

On the first floor Frag, a human barman covered in tattoos and piercings, watched the new comer with slight suspicion. That wasn't to say that this helmeted man was out of sorts at the Gate, Frag was just that kind of guy. Years of dealing with drunken wasters with a penchant for violence had left little in the way of trust for strangers.
None the less the new boss had been specific, anyone that doesn't look like a regular make an introduction, get some info. He walked round the bar and across the way to the sentient.

"Get you something?" He asked in a forced pleasant tone.

Even someone with just enough intelligence to make barman could tell that was a hint. Luckily at that moment Salem sauntered in, passing them and heading for the bar, Cigarra in hand, stroll in his step, like a man in the park.

"I'll get right on that." Said Frag with a scowl and made a hasty b-line for his boss.

"That him?" Asked Salem as Frag came level, taking the barman by surprise.

"I think so." He replied and his eyes lit up when a wad of cash appeared on the bar top. Salem waited till both his and the mans drink had been made and walked over to the table. He tried to get a sense for the man, found him blank. That in itself was a curious turn.

"Your drink sir," He said with a smile. "here on business or for pleasure?"

"Well you can't run a respectable night club and not have a head for business" Every emphasis was on that one word and Salem still wore the seasoned smile of a game show host, all smile, little feeling.

"Care to join me in my VIP room? We can further discuss what brings you to our fair establishment." He asked very aware of the hand resting upon the satchel. One wrong move, just one mismanaged digit and this guy was shishkebab. "Call it a customer survey, drinks will of course be on the house for an upstanding gent such as yourself." He finished stil smiling like it were painted on.

A short walk and a flight of stairs later they were inside the VIP room on the second floor of the nightclub. Sal motioned to the leather sofa to the left of the door and wandered over to the bar. He began mixing up two drinks, fully aware that his guest may not even touch his, he poured the liquid into two ready glasses and then made his way back to the man.

"I take it we can drop the act?" He said, suddenly all business. "Details.." The word was said like a demand and in a voice that said refual was ill advised.

Salem eyed his guest thoughtfully and took a sip of his drink before he answered. This was sounding more hassle than it was worth, he reckoned, but he was curious that much was true.

"I understand all to well but let me ask you a question. Do you know who i am?" He tried to gauge the man's reaction but followed on quickly. "If you did then you and your employer would be fully aware that i am more than morally grey at the best of times." He finished.

Salem allowed his eye to play across the datapad before returning his gaze to the man. He took another drink and was silent for a moment, his face just as blank as the others.

"I do not deal in hints, while i do appreciate discretion when called for vague can often lead to misinterpretation," He took another drink and slid his free hand in his trouser pocket casually. "And by the sounds of it, misinterpretation of the facts would not be ise in this instance."

Norongachi took the datapad and looked over the details. The image of the man he was assigned to kill spurned no recognition. It was just another Imperial, they all looked the same to him. Whoever compiled the data was thorough, military compound, Soontir's estate was inside, no armour, some gun emplacements, company of Storm Troopers, wing of TIE fighters based at the compound.

It was the Dreadnaught that would prove a problem, so close to the Chiss border there would be regular patrols of a wedge shaped persuasion and they didn't need them catching wind of an attack. It was do-able however.

"Would you like it a clean assasination or would you like it done quickly?" He asked still examining the datapad.

"Like wise..." Said Salem said absent mindedly as the man took his leave, he was engrossed in the data-pad. For an hour he sat in the empty nightclub with the sounds of cleaning droids and the barman as his only company and then he slipped it into his pocket and made his way to the hanger he rented not far from the Club.

Four days later he was back at The Edge the shadows of ten Dreadnaughts under going refits greeting him as he entered the uninhabited space where the space station lay. His board flashed a go for landing and he took the Firespray into the top most docking bay, setting her down he made his way to Admiral Stravens office.

"Soontir Fel!" Nik said as he looked at the image on the datapad.

"Know him?" Salem asked from the seat opposite Nik Stravens.

"Who bloody doesn't, he was the Empires answer to Wedge Antillies and his 181st, Rogue Squadrons mirror." Said Nik and noted the vague 'i have no clue what you are on about' look on Salems face. "You really don;t know who this is?"

"Not a clue but it has me curious." He turned as the office door swished open and a young man handed him a slate which he inserted into the datapad in his hands, it flashed up information on Soontir, his Imperial career and anything note worthy. "Stupid question but who would want to kill a literal Baron of the Empire?"

"New Republic-"

"Rebel Alliance" Corrected Salem.

"Bloody stupid...but aye, the Rebel Alliance or maybe he has some enemies."

"Enemies stupid enough to anger the Empire?" he asked. "Think they'd just sit back and let their poster boy be killed without repercussions?" Norongachi responded with an eye brow raised.

"Aye you have a point there...and i doubt the Alliance would risk such a high profile kill, from what i recall of the man he wasn't an Imperials Imperial, to many morals if i remember rightly." Nik gave a 'hmmm' and scratched his chin then a sly smile crossed his face. "You don't think....?"

"We have a job Mr Admiral, thats what i think" Salem said with a wink.

The Chiss Border...

N'kal wasn't a tactically gifted man but his superior was and he'd given him strict instructions, keep one ship in front as a shield, then when its took enough of a beating move it in behind another of the Dreadnaughts and repeat the process as necessary. It was working, however now that the Peregrine was being shot at he wasn't to comfortable with it.

The Dreadnaught returned fire but compared to the forward fire power of an ISD they may as well have been using harsh language. He checked the read outs, shields were at 65%, time to pull out. The dark hulled ship began moving to the back of the formation and the Saviours Wrath came up to the fore, turbolaser fire splashing against its hull. So far so good...

Nirauan...

X-Wings and TIE danced in the lower atmosphere of the planet and from the clouds fell judgement on those still on the ground. Salem could see it in his minds eye as the Shroud slipped by the dog fighting craft and made his descent to the mostly ruined compound below. He was low to the ground now, skimming its surface by Twenty feet, and clicked off the cloak. Immediately the bombardment stopped as the Katana picked up its signal on its sensors. The Action V came crunching down in the ruins of the Compound and those Imperials that remained and had their wits about them fired blaster bolts harmlessly into the hull of the invading vessel.

"All out!" Cried Norongachi as the ship ground into the dirt, his men, a team of fifty pirates, all piled out as soon as the massive cargo ramp of the ship hit the ground. Exchanges of fire filled the air but this was a one sided battle, the Imperials were disorientated, their numbers reduced to almost nothing, and so they were cut down by the advancing Cut Throats.

Salem's lightsaber hummed and the sight of it only drew more fear, more desperation from the remaining Storm troopers. He cut a swathe through the ruined defences, his men spreading out through the remains of the compound searching for their target. Salem leapt up on the broken husk of an AT-ST, its legs entirely melted by turbolaser fire, and deflected blaster fire back at a Storm Trooper who fell, with what Salem thought, was an amusing death scream. He jupmed down from the broken Walker and let his armoured head scan the battle field, already the sound of the fire fight was dying down.

"Captain Strom, we have Imperial prisoners. Orders?" Came a communication. Two Storm Troopers opened fire upon him from the cover of a semi-standing building and his violet energy sword batted them aside. He called to the Force, summoned it into his body, and with speed unseen in any normal sentient sped toward them, his body a mere blur, before he slid to a stop, his Saber cutting one down instantly and with another slash a set of shins and feet came off the other.

The black mandalorian armoured figure must have seemed like a demon come up from Hell to the dismembered Storm Trooper as he tried to scramble away from his attacker but found that an invisible force held him in place, a hand wrapped around his midsection, pinning him to the ground.

"We don't take prisoners, kill them all." Norongachi finally responded through his helmets comm system and then advanced on the Trooper, his mind commanding an unseen tentacle of telekinetic energy to drag his broken body up from the ground. The Black helmet stared into that of the smeared white of the Trooper as his body hung helplessly suspended on strings of Force energy before Norongachi.

"Where is the Baron, Trooper..." He asked, his voice sounding mechanical, emotionless through the speaker systems of the full face Helm.

"Go to hell..." Roared the Trooper and swung a punch with one of his two remaining limbs. A dull thunk was the result as the fist hit the solid metal of Salem's helmet.

"You are a credit to the Empire..." Salem responded coolly and with his free hand reached up and gripped the front of the mans white and black helmet. Immediately daggers of Force energy punched through it and pierced the mans skull, pushing deeper the creeping tendrils bored into his mind and in seconds Salem had the information he needed. The Trooper gurgled helplessly, his mind mangled by the brutal Force Technique, Salem gave his wrist a flick and the mans head twisted abruptly to the side with a crack before he fell to the ground.

"I have the Barons location. Clean up the remainder, no one gets out alive." The message went to all his pirates as he stalked through the battlefield toward the half collapsed bunker across the way. He stepped inside the gloom, using the Force to push aside fallen timbers and metal before he came to a clear corridor. It was quiet, no guards, no troopers, and he moved forward with ill intent, his senses picking up Seven life signs in a sealed room to the left. He raised his blade and tore the door asunder, the energy weapon easily cleaving through the metal.

His senses screamed blue murder in his mind and he rolled across the floor brining his saber up defensively to deflect the offending blaster bolt meant for his head. He stood up and faced the man standing a few feet away, a blaster pistol held expertly in his hands, and behind him, cowering were five children and a woman. Evidently the Baron had his family here, judging by his protective stance.

Salem clicked a button on the side of his helmet and advanced on Fel. "By order of his majesty the Emperor you are here by removed from duty, Baron Soontir Fel. In the most definite way you can imagine." Fel had little time to respond as the lightsaber wielding madman made his move, in less than a minute it was over and the Fel's lay quiet and still at his feet, the occasional arm or leg strewn about the room. He let his visor swept across the scene once more and then clicked the same button on his helmet and moved out of the room.

His next stop was a few doors down, communications room to be precise, and he approached the banks of technology and with swift fingers adjusted the dials and controls to a channel he had not used in so very long. One he thought he'd never have to use, because whoever was on the other end would know that he had survived, that Omega-001 was still out there. The line gave a distinctive click-click-click as it connected.