Author's Note: The pitch is basically this: What if Guy Ritchie directed a Star Wars movie? I just thought it'd be fun to toss all my favorite PCs into one fun little adventure story. It's mostly lighthearted action and intrigue, with a few interesting subplots as a side dish. Basically I mashed all the class stories together into something of a status quo. As such, events here may not necessarily mirror events of the game. Consider it an AU, if it makes you feel better.

"I gotta say, I'm not exactly comfortable with this job, Captain," said Corso Riggs, fidgeting in the copilot's seat of their trusty XS Freighter.

"Really, Corso? Are you nervous?" drawled Vex Kalway, with typical sarcasm. "Because honestly I have a hard time telling your nervous flopsweat from your usual musk."

Corso, as usual, brushed off the joke. "Seriously, Captain. It can't just be me. What did Risha say about it when you told her?"

"'How in space did you get this holofrequency?'" Vex quoted. He shrugged and leaned back in his chair, fingers threaded behind his head. He always felt most at peace in hyperspace, with the corona of bent space-time and the gentle hum of the engine. It felt good to hit the spacelanes again.

Still, Corso wasn't wrong. Getting in between two Hutts feuding over a magnetically sealed box wasn't exactly a recipe for a simple, point-to-point sort of job. But Nem'ro the Hutt could be very persuasive. And rich.

"Do we even know what's inside?" Corso continued.

"No," Vex allowed. "Near as I can tell, neither does Nem'ro. But it's got Imperial stamps all over it, so I doubt it's a basket of nexu kittens."

"And we're okay with just handing it over to a Hutt? What if it's a planet-busting superweapon or something?" Corso nervously rubbed at the back of his neck. "Feels like those things are everywhere."

"Corso," Vex chided. He leaned over and clapped his best friend playfully on the back. "Why worry about today's galaxy-shattering mistake when we're just going to make a bigger one tomorrow?"

"'We," Corso huffed. But he did crack a smile. "It's always 'we' with you, Captain."

Ghereth Maddox, Jedi Knight, didn't care for General Var Suthra very much. As a Miraluka, Ghereth's Force awareness pulled double duty as his sense of sight, and vague impressions of those around him constantly prodded at the back of his mind. His impression of Var Suthra was of wild internal panic and frankly alarming incompetence.

He felt the strong presence of his Padawan, Kira Carsen, standing behind him. Usually her presence was warm, if a bit nervous and jittery. But currently she was cool. Detached. Bored. Ghereth found he could hardly blame her for drifting.

He also could faintly feel the presence of his loyal astromech, T7-01. As a droid, T7 didn't leave much impression in the Force, but he could hear his droid's processor ticking over steadily. As usual, T7 was recording everything.

General Var Suthra leaned over the Defender's holoterminal and pressed a few buttons. The display lit up, showing an image of a spacer with shaggy hair and a cocky expression. "Our target is Vexildan Kalway, known smuggler and occasional Republic privateer. He's carrying some very sensitive cargo through Republic space on his way to Hutta. Needless to say, we can't let his cargo fall into the Cartel's hands."

T7 burbled with excitement from the corner. "T7 = Follows Vex Kalway's exploits / Vex Kalway = Found Nok Drayen's treasure / T7 = Big fan!"

Kira huffed and crossed her arms. "Why are the cute ones always bad?"

Ghereth smiled and glanced over his shoulder at his former Padawan. "Kira, surely you have better taste than a crooked spacer?"

Kira cocked her head and squinted at her Master. "Did...did Master Jedi just crack wise at me?"

Ghereth couldn't suppress a chuckle. "Maybe he did." His expression sobered, and he turned back to Var Suthra. "If Kalway has worked with the Republic before, perhaps he'll be amenable to reason. Why don't we hail him and see if we can talk it out?"

Var Suthra shook his head. "Kalway has a history of being...unpredictable. He did some good work for the Republic, but his operations tended to go in unexpected directions. Senators Dodonna and Kayl have both advised me...independently, for some reason...that we should detain Kalway and get the facts. If he doesn't know what he's hauling, we can confiscate the cargo and let him go." Var Suthra let the implication hang in the air.

"Do we even know what he's hauling," asked Ghereth, though he was pretty sure he knew the answer.

Var Suthra straightened, clasping his arms behind his back. "I'm afraid that's classified."

"You have no idea, do you?" Kira teased, crossing her arms.

Var Suthra turned back to the holoterminal and brought up the galaxy map. His silence was as damning as anything else. "Odds are good that Kalway will drop out of hyperspace near Carrick Station for fuel and supplies. You're to apprehend him there, and rendezvous with us at the station when you've secured the package."

An unsettling sensation prickled at the edge of Ghereth's senses. Out of the corner of his awareness, he felt Kira shudder. He wasn't the only one to feel the coming darkness. He sighed wearily and turned back to the general. "Very well, General, we'll do it your way for now." He turned to leave the room, but paused. He glanced over his shoulder at the general. "General, if I could ask one last question?"

Var Suthra visibly clenched. "You can ask, certainly."

"It's not another misplaced superweapon, is it?"

"This is Imperial Intelligence vessel X-70 Phantom requesting permission to dock."

"Docking permissions granted. Welcome aboard the Khem Val, Cipher Nine. Darth Zhar'il has requested your presence on the bridge as soon as you've been briefed."

"Tell him I'll be along shortly."

Cipher Agent Vax Kalway, better known to Imperial Intelligence as Cipher Nine, stepped away from the bridge console. He watched his small modified luxury vessel be swallowed into the hangar of the immense Star Destroyer Khem Val. Another day, another Darth. At least this particular lightning-swinging megalomaniac wasn't wasting Imperial Intelligence's time. Not entirely, at any rate.

Vax left the cockpit and went down the hall toward the holoterminal. His was a small vessel, but it felt huge and empty with his companions scattered. Keeper would only tolerate his dalliances with bounty hunters and rogue officers for so long. It was a Cipher's lot to work alone.

He went over to the holoprojector and keyed to the appropriate encrypted frequency. To his surprise, Watcher Two fizzled to life above the table. He should probably say something. "Hey there, beautiful?" Too forward. "Fancy meeting you here?" Too distant. When seduction and flirtation were mostly tools to manipulate, pulling off the real thing was surprisingly difficult.

Watcher Two took a few moments to make sure the transmission was secure, then finally looked up. She opened her mouth to speak, but the words caught in her throat. Her eyes lit up when she saw Vax. "Cipher Nine! If I'd known you were leading this operation, I would've...well, that's no matter. How are you?"

"I'm doing well," Vax replied. A dreadful lie, but not the worst one he would tell before the day was out. "And yourself?"

"Things are...going about as well as can be expected," Watcher Two hedged vaguely. A long, cold silence stretched after her words.

Vax broke it the only way he knew how. "Watcher Two, why was six afraid of seven?"

Watcher Two rolled her eyes. "Not another one of your jokes, Cipher Nine. Because seven eight nine. I believe I first heard that in the exercise yard at the juvenile academy."

Vax crossed his arms. "On the contrary. Six is afraid of seven because seven has cold, dead eyes."

Watcher Two didn't laugh, but a smile quirked on her lips.

Vax leaned forward over the holoterminal. "I will make you laugh one of these days, Watcher Two. And it will be glorious."

Watcher Two stopped trying to suppress her smile. "I'm looking forward to it." Then her expression sobered, and she fidgeted nervously with her hands for a few seconds. "I forgot how much I missed this, Cipher Nine. I...I…" She faltered, grabbing at something off-camera, using it to bear her weight as she cradled her head with her free hand. She made no sound, but she practically vibrated with pain.

Vax's fists clenched. It was all he could do not to pound the holoterminal until it showed him a better image. There was nothing he could do, not from sixty parsecs away. "Watcher Two, can you read me? What's happening? Watcher Two, acknowledge!"

Watcher Two eventually managed to wrestle off the pain and straighten. She was flushed and breathing hard, as if she'd just run a marathon. "I'm fine. I've just been occasionally getting headaches, that's all. I've not been sleeping well lately." She made another attempt to smile, but it came out as a pained grimace. "Perhaps we should focus on the task at hand?"

Vax fumed for a few seconds before he could reply. "Fine. But promise me you'll see a medical droid as soon as we're finished?"

Watcher Two nodded. "I promise." She turned back to her computers and databanks, visibly relaxing as she did so. "So then. Darth Zhar'il claims to have discovered evidence of an old Imperial cache recently fallen into the hands of Kretto the Hutt, a mid-level gangster operating out of Coronet City on Corellia. Naturally, all records that the Dark Lord cites to prove his claim are sealed, clearance level ULTRAVIOLET. Only the Dark Council has access."

Vax nodded, slowly pacing in front of the holoterminal. "So, a dubious claim, at best. What do we know of Darth Zhar'il?"

Watcher Two shook her head. "Nothing concrete. Recently acquired a Dark Council seat in the usual manner: killing everyone above him until he grew to fill the unoccupied space. Rumors abound that he was once a slave on the Dark Temple excavation. Funnily enough, those who purvey such rumors frequently end up dead the next morning."

Vax idly scratched at the scar on his cheek. "Do we know the contents of the cache?"

Watcher Two shrugged. "As you might have guessed, its contents are also classified ULTRAVIOLET. You'll have to ask Zhar'il, if he deigns to tell you."

"I can hazard a few guesses," Vax muttered. "Each less pleasant than the last. I'm to discover the contents of the package and insure that Zhar'il doesn't burn the Empire to the ground trying to get it."

Watcher Two smiled and nodded. "It's almost as if you've dealt with Sith Lords before. Good luck, Cipher Nine." She cut the transmission and fizzled out of existence.

Darth Zhar'il paced slowly in front of the expansive window on the bridge of the Khem Val. His razor-thin Chiss features, mostly shrouded by his hood, were vaguely visible in the transparent plasteel, as if made of the starry expanse behind it. So close, yet so far away.

Here he was, a Darth, a member of the Dark Council. Power crackled between his fingers in a mere second's thought. He had the Empire at his feet. Yet he never felt more than a hair's breadth away from the slave pens. It could all be wrenched from his grasp in seconds, sending him spiralling back down to the cortosis mines or the Dark Temple excavation.

But not if he got his hands on that ancient cache. The contents of that box would cement his power base in a layer of duracrete. He would never have to bow and scrape, to whimper subserviently at some charisma-free Dark Lord in a tacky mask.

Captain Javros, commander of the Khem Val's day-to-day operations, politely cleared his throat. "My lord? The liaison from Imperial Intelligence has just arrived."

Zhar'il turned toward the captain and nodded. "Very well, Captain. Let's see what the Empire's most capable parasites have to say."

The Intelligence agent, along with select members of the ship's crew, were gathered around the bridge holoterminal. The agent put away his datapad and bowed at the waist when Zhar'il approached. "My lord, I am designated Cipher Nine. It's an honor."

"Cipher Nine," Zhar'il drawled. He observed the agent closely. He was a human, because of course he was. His face was blank and impassive. His emotions were hidden behind a well-crafted wall of calculations and random thought. "I see the Sith hardly have a monopoly on ridiculous names."

"I am what the Empire designates me to be, my lord," Cipher Nine replied coolly, before bending over the holoterminal.

The squirming little womp rat knew how to run the maze. Very well. Save the mind games for another time. Zhar'il clasped his hands behind his back. "You may begin, Cipher Nine."

The holoterminal booted up, and an image of the cache fizzled onto the display. It was a relatively plain durasteel box, about the size and shape of a refrigerator. Each surface was stamped with an out-of-date Imperial crest, along with "FROM THE SEAT OF THE EMPEROR" written in Basic and Huttese. The only remarkable thing about the object appeared to be the locking mechanism, which seemed welded on after the box's manufacture.

"This appears to be a typical Imperial technological cache of three centuries ago," said Cipher Nine as he continued fiddling with the holoterminal. "The only remarkable feature is the lock." The hologram spun and zoomed, showing the lock in full detail: a simple readout displaying a smooth waveform, above a suite of four buttons. "From what Intelligence can gather, it is an extremely sophisticated voice lock. Accurate to within sixteen decimal places, it can foil any known droid's voice simulation software. It's a technology beyond anything we've seen from the Republic, the Empire, or the Hutt Cartel." Cipher Nine paused, possibly for dramatic effect. "Carbon dating matches certain samples we've recovered from Rakata Prime."

"Star Forge technology?" Zhar'il mused. He leaned over the holoterminal and observed the lock closely. The final obstacle between himself and perfect independence.

"Certainly Rakatan, my lord," Cipher Nine agreed.

"What do we know of the cache's history?" Zhar'il asked.

"It's...unfortunately spotty, my lord." Cipher Nine replied warily. "The last time it was in Imperial hands was two hundred and fifty years ago, when it came into the possession of one Grand Moff Atticus Kilran. After the Moff's unfortunate end, it drifted through various underworld troves. It was briefly possessed by Nok Drayen, before it was stolen by agents working for the GenoHaradan, who lost it in a debris field on the Corellian Run. It was recently purchased at auction by Kretto the Hutt, on Corellia. But it was stolen en route, by parties unknown. Our scouts managed to tag the vessel. It appears to be headed for Carrick Station in the heart of Republic space."

"Very well," Zhar'il nodded, straightening. He turned back to Javros. "Captain, plot a course. We'll board the station and take possession of the cache while it's being unloaded."

Captain Javros visibly balked. "My lord...if I might be so bold, I must remind you that the Khem Val only carries the standard complement of 500 troops. We don't begin to have the manpower for an assault on Carrick Station!"

Zhar'il waved a dismissive hand. "As I understand it, the Naga Sadow and the Ravager II are both in the sector, correct?"

"Yes, my lord, but they're both currently engaged in -"

Zhar'il snarled, lashing out with his hand and his awareness, closing both around the captain's impudent throat. He yanked the officer toward him until they were nose to nose. "I could not care less where they're engaged, Captain. Send out a priority alert. Dark Council executive order. Rendezvous at my location within one standard day or face the consequences." He released the captain and turned back toward the window.

"At once, Darth Zhar'il," wheezed Javros, staggering back down the bridge. Cipher Nine stood ramrod-straight, still utterly impassive.

Zhar'il glared out into the vacuum of space, tendrils of dark power curling at his feet. "We will get me that box. Or you will die trying."