Star Jumper

Episode 6.2 - Clearance Codes

Stardate: 4 1 1 6 8.2

Earth Standard Date: March 02, 2364.

Galactic Date: 21st Day of the Second Month, 3956 BBY

Location: Upper City, Taris, Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic Continuity

Tyson strode out of the dueling arena. The adrenaline of the fight was slowly fading, replaced by a cold, calculating awareness of the risks he now faced. He was no fool. The duel with Bendak, broadcast as it was across the planet, had put a target on his back. The Sith were already searching for him after his altercation with their guard and would redouble their efforts to capture him. And then there was the matter of Taris laws. Duels to the death were strictly forbidden by the authorities. It was this prohibition that had driven Bendak into retirement in the first place, and now Tyson had brazenly flouted that law in front of a planet-wide audience.

But even as he considered the dangers that now loomed over him, Tyson felt a flicker of grim satisfaction. His actions, reckless as they might have been, served a greater purpose. By making himself a clear and present target, he had hoped to draw the Sith's attention away from their search for Bastila. Every resource they diverted to hunting him down was one less resource dedicated to finding the Jedi. In that sense, his gambit had already paid off.

And Tyson was far from unprepared for the consequences of his actions.

As he walked out of the arena, the Grey Goo Suit, began to shift and change to match his pre-programmed desire. The nanobots that comprised its structure rearranged themselves, the suit's appearance morphing to mimic the distinctive silver-chrome armor plates and black underweave of the Sith. By the time Tyson reached the staging area, he was indistinguishable from one of the Sith troopers themselves. A fact that proved immediately advantageous, as he found himself face to face with a platoon of Sith soldiers, clearly lying in wait for the dueling champion.

The Sith group was surprised by the sudden appearance of what appeared to be one of their own. Tyson seized the opportunity, his voice ringing out with an air of faux authority, leaning on the Force.

"I just checked the arena," he barked, his tone clipped and urgent. "He's gone! The champion must have escaped another way."

The platoon leader reacted without hesitation, his orders rapid and precise. "You four, into the arena. Search for other ways out. You four, go to the Hutt and question him again. The rest with me, we're going to tear that bar and the rest of this arena apart. No one leaves the building until we have the duelist."

As the leader divided his men into smaller teams, dispatching them to scour the premises for any trace of the elusive champion, Tyson stood rigidly to the side, face obscured behind the mask of his Sith disguise. Inwardly, he smiled at the effectiveness of his deception; the way the Grey Goo Suit allowed him to seamlessly blend into the ranks of his enemies. This was going even better than he could have hoped. The Sith were playing right into his hands, scattering their forces on a fruitless search while he walked freely among them. Sometimes the best place to hide was in plain sight.

But he knew he couldn't afford to rest. The Sith were nothing if not relentless, and they would not stop until they had him. He needed to keep moving, to stay one step ahead of the net that was even now closing around him.

As the Sith platoon dispersed, each team moving with the purpose of a well-oiled machine, Tyson slipped away, his steps measured and unhurried. To any outside observer, he was just another Sith trooper, going about his duties, the same as his comrades. But beneath the disguise, Tyson was already plotting his next move.

With his identity still concealed beneath the guise of a Sith trooper, approached Vicky with purposeful strides. "You, droid, come with me."

Vicky, playing her role to perfection, merely inclined her head in acquiescence, falling into step behind Tyson as he led the way out of the dueling building. The nurse droid showed no outward sign of surprise or recognition as Tyson pointed at her. To any outside observer, it would appear as nothing more than a Sith soldier commandeering a droid for some unknown purpose. But beneath the surface, a silent understanding passed between them. Vicky's enhanced AI allowed her to interface with Tyson's Grey Goo Suit, she knew that it was her master requesting her to join him, not some faceless Sith trying to detain her.

As they stepped out into the bustling streets, Vicky maintained her usual appearance, her sleek and unassuming form drawing no undue attention. Tyson, on the other hand, altered his armor. The design was nondescript, lacking any overt Mandalorian or Sith styling. The last thing they wanted was to attract unwanted scrutiny, especially given the Sith's active pursuit of Tyson.

Together, they made their way through the Upper City, navigating the crowded thoroughfares until they reached their destination

Janice Nall's droid shop.

The shop was a modest establishment, its storefront adorned with flickering holographic displays showcasing various droids and components. As Tyson and Vicky entered, they were greeted by the gentle whirring and beeping of the shop's wares.

Janice Nall, a green-skinned Twi'lek with an eager smile, stepped forward to welcome them. "A customer? Come in, come in," she said, her voice warm and inviting. "Janice Nall at your service. Welcome to my droid and droid supply shop. Always good to see a new face. Customers are hard to come by. A lot of the Taris citizens won't even come in here because they refuse to shop at a store owned by a Twi'lek."

Tyson asked, "What do they have against Twi'lek?" as he looked around the shop, taking in the assortment of droids and components on display. Janice's smile faded, and she sighed before responding.

"They don't like aliens much here in Upper Taris," she explained, "They tolerate us, but they'd rather see us as dancers in the cantina than successful business owners. You'll see a few aliens around, but most of the non-humans stick to the Lower City." She shook her head, lekku swaying. "I've learned not to dwell on it, though. I try to stay focused on running my store." She gestured around the shop. "My selection is a bit limited right now. The Sith confiscated all my assault droids. But I've got a utility droid you might find interesting."

Tyson's gaze swept over the inventory, taking in the array of droids and components on display. He spotted a selection of compact droids with distinctive dome-shaped heads.

"I was sent by Canderous Ordo to pick up a droid for Davik Kang," Tyson said. "Is it ready?"

"T3-H4!" Janice called out. One of the utility droids wheeled over from its section to join them.

"That'll be 50 credits," Janice told him.

Tyson handed over the credits without hesitation. He turned to Vicky. "Can you copy its programming?"

Vicky nodded, then leaned down toward the utility droid. She politely asked if she could access its memory. The droid responded with a series of beeps and whirs. Vicky's data port extended from her belt like a tail and interfaced with the droid. After a minute, she straightened up and turned to Tyson.

"Beep boop," she said, perfectly mimicking the droid's binary language.

Tyson's eyes widened in surprise before Vicky laughed, the sound melodic and teasing. "Got you!" she said. Even Janice laughed at the joke, and Tyson found himself chuckling as well.

"You can keep the droid," Tyson told Janice, still smiling. "We just needed its slicing ability. We don't need the unit itself. Hopefully, you can make some more profits from it. Consider it reparations for how shitty humans have been to you."

Janice smiled gratefully. "Thank you," she said. "That's very kind of you."

Tyson turned his gaze to the shop's selection of droid upgrades. "What kind of enhancements do you have available?" he asked Janice.

Vicky sidled up beside him, scanning the components on display. She frowned as she assessed each upgrade. The selection was sparse, limited to only the most basic targeting computers and minor performance tweaks. Disappointment flickered across the droid's features.

One upgrade caught Tyson's attention. A basic targeting computer priced at 500 credits. While not an advanced piece of technology, Tyson recognized the potential value in augmenting Vicky with combat capabilities, even incrementally. While she was a true AI, her base programming was built around a nursedroid with no combat applications.

"We'll take the targeting computer," Tyson declared, passing the credits over to Janice's outstretched palm.

The Twi'lek nodded and held out a dataport for Vicky to interface with. Vicky's eyes blinked rapidly as she downloaded the new software. Within a minute she installed the upgrade and new targeting protocols integrated into her systems.

Tyson had hoped to enhance Vicky with upgrades that could substantially elevate her already impressive abilities. But Taris was firmly in the Sith's grip, and the planet suffered for it. Tyson knew that the meager selection was merely another symptom of the Sith blockade, made worse by Janice's reveal that they'd confiscated her combat-capable droids.

Together, Tyson and Vicky made their way through the streets of the Upper City, Tyson's disguise granting them unhindered passage through the checkpoints and patrols that stood between them and their destination.

The Sith base.

As they entered the lobby serving as the center of the Sith operations on Taris, Tyson's attention was immediately drawn to the lone receptionist, a yellow-skinned Twi'lek woman who sat behind the desk with an air of dejected resignation. Even without his empathic abilities, Tyson could sense the misery that radiated from her in almost palpable waves.

For a moment, he considered his original plan, to neutralize the receptionist before she could raise the alarm and compromise his infiltration. But as he looked upon her, taking in the weariness and despair that seemed to hang over her like a shroud, he found himself hesitating. She was not a loyal servant of the Sith, not a true believer in their cause. She was a victim, a pawn caught up in the machinations of those who held power over her. To add to the suffering she had already endured, would be an act of cruelty that Tyson could not bring himself to commit.

Instead, he made a decision, a gamble born of compassion. Approaching the desk, he leaned in close, his voice a conspiratorial whisper as he disabled the voice modulator of his suit. "I'll give you 1,000 credits if you leave now."

The Twi'lek's eyes widened, her gaze darting between Tyson's inscrutable mask and the credit chip he held out in offering. For a moment, suspicion warred with desperate hope in her expression, the ingrained fear of the Sith's retribution battling against the tantalizing promise of credits.

Lowering her voice to match Tyson's hushed tone, she replied, "1,000 credits? You've got a deal. The Sith have made my life a living hell ever since they took over this place. It's about time someone stood up to them." A flicker of gratitude passed over her features, a silent acknowledgment of the risk Tyson was taking on her behalf. "Just do me a favor and wait until I'm out of here before you start blasting the place up."

Tyson nodded in understanding and agreement. The Twi'lek took the proffered credit chip. And then, with a final, furtive glance around the lobby, she was gone, slipping out the door and into the bustling streets beyond.

Tyson and Vicky were alone now, the reception area empty save for the hum of the computer terminals and the distant echo of booted feet on polished floors. Vicky turned to Tyson, her expression thoughtful as she studied him. "It was kind of you to warn her and give her a chance to leave," she remarked, her tone filled with genuine approval.

Tyson, still clad in the disguise of a Sith trooper, shrugged. "No one seems to like the Sith here," he replied, "I could tell she was only working with them for her survival."

He moved towards the reception terminal, the screen casting an icy blue glow across his masked features. With deft movements, his fingers danced across the keys. But the lines of encrypted code that scrolled across the screen left him at a loss. For all his skills in combat and strategy, Tyson was no hacker. The intricacies of slicing into a secured network were beyond his expertise.

It was then that Vicky stepped up beside him, "Allow me?" she offered. Tyson, curious to see the depth of her capabilities after the artificial intelligence upgrade, stepped aside. Vicky, rather than attempting to access the terminal through conventional means, extended a tail-like cord from her belt. She connected the cord directly to one of the terminal's ports. Instantly, the screen came alive with a flurry of activity, lines of code, and command prompts flashing by at dizzying speeds. Tyson watched in fascination as Vicky worked, her AI mind interfacing seamlessly with the Sith's systems. One by one, she disabled the security protocols and sentry droids, stripping away the layers of defense that protected the base. The cameras were next, their feeds looped and altered to create a false image of normalcy, allowing them to move unseen and without leaving records of their infiltration.

It was a masterful display of the advanced capabilities of Vicky's enhancement. Tyson marveled at the ease with which Vicky infiltrated the Sith's systems and bent it to her will...

Yet even as Tyson marveled at Vicky's skills, a small knot of apprehension formed in his gut, the concept of a sentient AI with such mastery over computer systems was incredible, but also concerning when he considered how much power she potentially wielded. If she ever turned against him, could he stop her?

He shook his head slightly, banishing the thought. Whatever reservations stirred in him about the nature of Vicky's existence, she had proven herself a steadfast ally and friend. She was committed to him, using her talents to help rather than harm. Tyson trusted her, and he trusted that she was a Companion, not a Drawback. There would be time later to grapple with the philosophical and ethical dilemmas posed by her evolution. She was a partner, and he would treat her as such.

Pushing aside his doubts, Tyson turned his full focus back to their mission.

As Vicky delved deeper into the Sith's systems, seeking out the planetary clearance codes that would grant them the means to escape Taris, Tyson saw the first signs of strain in her posture, an increase in the intensity of her focus. The codes were the key to everything, the linchpin of the Sith's control over the planet. They would be guarded by the most powerful firewalls, the most advanced encryption algorithms the Sith had at their disposal.

For long moments, Vicky worked in silence, her consciousness fully immersed in the digital realm. But finally, with a flicker of frustration crossing her features, she withdrew her focus from the terminal.

"The codes are too well protected," she reported, her voice tinged with a hint of defeat. "They're locked off the main network. I can't reach them. They can only be accessed by the Sith Governor, from the terminal in his office."

It was a setback, but not wholly unexpected. The Sith would not make it easy to leave Taris, not with Bastila pinned here, and how important she was to the Republic's war effort.

Vicky's AI mind analyzed the Sith base's internal structure with remarkable speed. Within moments, she had accessed the mapping system, plotting a route that would lead Tyson directly to the Sith Governor's office. With a flicker of data transfer, the map appeared in Tyson's field of view, courtesy of his Tactical Info HUD. The path was highlighted in a soft, pulsing light, a digital trail in his vision.

Tyson glanced at Vicky, a question in his eyes. The nurse droid, sensing his unspoken query, explained her reasoning with calm assurance. "That's the path to the Sith Governor's office," she said, her voice low but clear. "You'll need to access his terminal to obtain the clearance codes. I can do more if I stay here. No one should think twice about me being the receptionist. But having constant access to their system will allow me to monitor your progress, reroute any patrols, and unlock any doors if you run into trouble." She gestured towards Tyson's disguise. "Your armor should allow you to move unnoticed otherwise."

Tyson had to admit, it was a solid plan. With her watching over him, guiding his steps, and clearing his path, his chances of reaching the Governor's office undetected were greatly increased.

He nodded, "Thank you," he said, his voice warm with appreciation. "I couldn't do this without you, Vicky. You're amazing."

Vicky smiled a soft, genuine expression that lit up her features. "Good luck, Tyson," she replied, "I'll be with you every step of the way."

With a final, reassuring glance, Tyson turned and set off down the corridor, following the path laid out by Vicky's digital trail. Twice, he received new directions through his HUD, course corrections, and updates that kept him one step ahead of the Sith's patrols.

But as he neared the door to the Governor's office, Tyson felt a sudden, prickling sense of unease wash over him. He halted abruptly, his instincts tingling with a warning that he couldn't ignore. There was a presence ahead, a ripple in the fabric of the Force that set his nerves alight. It was a sensation he had felt before, a telltale sign of another attuned to the mystical energies that suffused the galaxy.

The Governor, Tyson realized with a sinking feeling, was Force-sensitive. Likely a Sith apprentice.

It was a complication he hadn't anticipated. If the Governor sensed his presence if he detected the flicker of Tyson's connection to the Force...

Tyson frowned, his gaze fixed on the door that stood between him and his goal. Not for the first time, he found himself wishing that he had remembered more of the details of the Knights of the Old Republic story, that if he had a clearer memory of the game he'd be better able to navigate the situations he continued to find himself in.

But there was no use dwelling on what might have been. The situation was what it was, and Tyson would have to adapt, to rely on his wits and his skills rather than his scant memories to see him through.

He could only hope that the Governor's attunement to the Force was not so strong that he sensed Tyson's presence, giving away his deception.

Tyson approached the door to the Governor's office. He raised his fist, knocking firmly on the door. The sound echoed in the silence of the corridor. There was a pause that seemed to hang suspended as Tyson waited for a response. Then, from within the office, a gruff voice granted him entry, the words laced with annoyance at the unexpected interruption.

Tyson stepped inside, immediately noticing the trappings of Sith propaganda that adorned the room. Tapestries hung from the walls, and at the center of it all, seated behind a grand desk, was the Sith Governor himself. His brow was furrowed in irritation as he looked up, his eyes raking over Tyson's armored form with disdain. "Why didn't the receptionist announce you?" he questioned. There was a dangerous edge to his tone, a warning that any perceived slight or breach of protocol would not be tolerated.

Tyson quickly fabricated a plausible excuse. "The Twi'lek girl had some bad food. She went home sick. There's a new droid manning the entry," he said.

The Governor's expression twisted into one of distaste as if the very idea of such an explanation offended his sensibilities. "Well, that's unfortunate," he grumbled, leaning back in his chair with a creak. "What brings you here, then?"

Tyson drew on every ounce of his acting skills to maintain his cover. "Sir, there are a few business requests for food and other trade that require the codes for space travel. If it's not too much trouble..."

He let the words trail off, hoping that the Governor would simply acquiesce and that the mundane nature of the request would be enough to deflect any further scrutiny. But even as the words left his mouth, Tyson could sense the shift in the room. The Governor's eyes narrowed, his gaze sharpening as he studied Tyson with a new intensity.

With deliberate slowness, the Governor rose from his seat, his hands reaching behind the desk to retrieve an object that had been hidden from view. Tyson's eyes narrowed as the gleaming length of a double-bladed vibrosword emerged, its razor-sharp edges catching the light with a menacing glint.

"So," the Sith Governor growled, his voice low and dangerous as he held the weapon with the ease of long practice, "Two breaches of protocol, the first not being announced by reception, the second not filling out the requisite forms for clearance requests." He paused, his gaze flicking down to the blaster pistol holstered at Tyson's hip, the one he had acquired from Trask on the Endar Spire. "Add that to the non-standard issue weapon..."

The Governor's lips curled into a sneer, a cruel parody of a smile that held no warmth or humor. "It's a trap then," he declared, his words ringing out, marking the end of Tyson's ruse and the beginning of a confrontation he had hoped to avoid.

In the tense standoff that followed, Tyson felt a sudden, sickening shift in the Force, a writhing of dark energy that coiled around him like a serpent. The Sith Governor raised his hand in a casual gesture of power, unleashing a Force Choke, the invisible tendrils of his will tightening around Tyson's throat with merciless strength.

Tyson gasped, his lungs straining for air as the pressure increased, black spots dancing at the edges of his vision. The Governor's smirk widened, a sadistic glint in his eye as he savored the pain emanating from his victim. "Surrender now, and I might spare your life," he offered, his voice dripping with a cruel, mocking humor.

But even as his body was starved for oxygen, Tyson refused to yield. He could feel the Governor's use of the Force, the way he twisted and bent its energies to his dark purposes, a perversion of the teachings Alysia had shared with him. It was a violation, a corruption of the natural balance that the Force sought to maintain. Reaching within himself, Tyson called upon the Force, not as a weapon to be wielded or a tool to be used. He did not seek to dominate or control, but rather to restore, to act as a conduit.

And the Force answered, its power flowing through Tyson like a cleansing tide, washing away the pain and the hints of fear and despair. It surrounded him, infused him, and then exploded out from him in a telekinetic wave that repelled the Governor's malevolent grip and shattered the chains of his Force Choke.

The Governor staggered back, his eyes wide with shock and disbelief as he watched his attack dissipate. He had not expected this infiltrator to be able to access the Force.

For a moment, the two men stood frozen, their gazes locked in a silent battle of wills. The Governor, his face twisted with rage and frustration, his double-bladed vibrosword clutched in a white-knuckled grip. And Tyson rose to stand tall and defiant.

Tyson raised his blaster pistol, his finger tightening on the trigger. Two bolts of searing energy erupted from the muzzle, streaking across the room to slam into the Governor's armor with a sizzle of dissipating energy. The impacts rocked the Sith back on his heels but did little to slow his advance. With a snarl of rage, the Governor charged forward, his double-bladed vibrosword humming in the still air as he closed the distance between them.

It was a simple tactic, one drilled into every Sith warrior from the earliest days of their training. Close with the enemies wielding blasters to remove their ranged advantage and finish them in melee combat.

But as the Governor approached, his vibrosword raised for a killing blow, he was greeted with an unexpected sight. Tyson's vibrosword seemed to materialize in his off-hand, so quick were his movements. One moment, the blaster pistol was his only visible weapon. The next, he was lunging forward, his vibrosword clashing against the Governor's weapon with a shower of sparks.

The Sith let out a cry of surprise, his dark eyes widening with shock as he parried the blow. But even as he did so, Tyson's blaster pistol barked again, the bolt catching the Governor in the side at point-blank range. The smell of burnt flesh filled the air as the Sith winced, struggling to maintain his defense against Tyson's unexpected assault.

For a moment, the two men strained against each other, their blades locked in a contest of strength and will. But with a twist of his wrist, Tyson's vibrosword darted in to score a glancing blow against the Governor. The Sith reeled back, his breaths coming in ragged gasps as he struggled to recompose himself. His earlier arrogance was gone, replaced by a wary caution as he reassessed his opponent.

With a growl, the Governor launched himself forward once more, his vibrosword flashing in a series of wild, desperate swings. But his attacks lacked the precision and finesse of a true duelist, the kind of mastery that Tyson had witnessed in the arena at the hands of fighters like Marl.

Tyson weaved and dodged, his blade parrying each blow. He could feel the Force flowing through him, guiding his movements, lending him a preternatural awareness of the battle's ebb and flow. And then, with a sudden, wrenching twist, Tyson drove his vibrosword through the Governor's guard, the humming blade sinking deep into the Sith's shoulder. The Governor screamed, his weapon falling from nerveless fingers as he staggered back, clutching at the wound.

For a moment, there was a stillness, a pregnant pause as the two combatants eyed each other across the smoke-filled room. The Governor's face was a mask of pain and fury, his eyes burning with a hatred that seemed to radiate from his very being.

Before Tyson's eyes, the Governor's sclera shifted from a white to a sickly yellow hue. And then, with an ominous raising of his hand, the Sith reached out with the Force.

Tyson felt the Governor's dark power coil around him like a vise, holding his body rigid and unresponsive. He was lifted off his feet, suspended helplessly as the Sith dashed for the door, intent on making his escape while his opponent was immobilized.

But Tyson would not be so easily contained. Reaching deep within himself, he tapped into the Force once more, though not to plead for aid. Instead, he activated a perk.

Sever Force.

In an instant, the Governor's connection to the cosmic energy was shattered, his hold over Tyson crumbling away.

Landing lightly on his feet, Tyson was already in motion. His blaster pistol rose swiftly, targeting the retreating Sith. Tyson's finger squeezed the trigger, unleashing a hail of glowing bolts that flew unerringly toward their target.

The Governor staggered under the onslaught, his armor smoking and sparking as the energy pulses found their mark. He tried to rally, to gather his power for one last, desperate attack. But the Force slipped through his grasp like water through his fingers. And Tyson pressed his advantage. His blaster flashed, once, twice, thrice, each bolt a searing lance of light that burned through the Governor's armor and sent him crashing to the floor.

The Sith lay there, broken and bleeding, his breath coming in shallow gasps as he struggled to rise. But Tyson was already moving, his vibrosword humming as he closed the distance between them. There was no mercy in his eyes, no hint of hesitation or doubt. The Governor had chosen his path and had embraced the darkness and all the cruelty and oppression that came with it. And now, he would pay the price for that choice.

With a final, decisive thrust, Tyson drove his blade through the Governor's heart, the razor-sharp edge striking between the Governor's armor plates, parting flesh and bone with sickening ease.

The Sith seized, then lay still.

Standing over the fallen form of his enemy, Tyson, felt a sense of grim satisfaction wash over him. He had faced down another force wielder. But even as he savored the victory, he knew that it was only the beginning. He hesitated to even consider the Governor as a Sith or Dark Jedi. The man was barely an apprentice. Tyson knew there were so many others, higher-ranking Sith and more powerful dark side adepts, who would pose a far greater danger and challenge.

Tyson moved to the Governor's computer terminal, relieved as he saw that the man had left it unlocked when he'd attacked Tyson. With a few keystrokes, Tyson navigated through the system, scanning the screen for the information he sought. And there, nestled among the countless files, he found them. Several sets of clearance codes.

And like that, he obtained the keys to their escape from Taris.

Tyson copied the codes and sent them directly to Vicky through his HUD. With the codes secured, Tyson turned his attention to the door, his hand reaching into his pocket to retrieve the Access Key. He held it up to the access panel, and instead of opening onto the corridor of the Sith Base, the door swung inward, revealing the antechamber of his Personal Reality.

Without hesitation, Tyson reached down and grabbed the Governor's fallen double-bladed vibrosword. He tossed the weapon, it sailed through the doorway, the blade clattering to the floor of his Warehouse with a metallic clang. It was a small thing, a trophy of his victory, but loot was loot. Satisfied, Tyson closed the door, the locking mechanism clicking back into place. He'd opened the door to his Personal Reality intentionally, learning from the mistake he'd made in the Lower City. Should he ever need to return to this office, he would be able to do so directly from his Personal Reality, bypassing the need to infiltrate the base again.

Tyson made his way out of the office, retracing his path through the Sith base. Once again, his way was illuminated by the digital guiding light provided by Vicky through his HUD.

As he entered the lobby, Tyson's gaze immediately sought out Vicky, the nurse droid still seated at the reception desk, her expression a mask of calm professionalism. But as their eyes met, Tyson could see the flicker of relief and victory that danced behind her gaze, acknowledging a mission accomplished. "I've locked the Sith Governor's office with an encryption code," Vicky informed him, her voice low and conspiratorial. "The cameras will show him sitting in his office, looping yesterday's footage. Anytime someone attempts to contact him, it'll play the recording of his distaste for being interrupted. It should buy us a bit of time before anyone notices."

Tyson felt a surge of gratitude and admiration for Vicky's quick thinking. Her intervention had bought them precious time, a window of opportunity to make their escape before the Sith realized what had transpired.

Together, they made their way toward the front doors of the Sith base, and the promise of freedom drew ever closer. But as they approached the threshold, Tyson paused, his hand once again reaching for the Access Key. He inserted the key into the door's locking mechanism, the click of the tumblers echoing in the stillness of the lobby.

Tyson allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction as he and Vicky stepped through the portal and back into the familiar confines of his Personal Reality, the door sealing shut behind them with finality. They had struck a meaningful blow against the Sith. Infiltrating the base, facing down a dark adept, and emerging victorious with the clearance codes that would grant them passage off this planet; it was a success all around. Yet even as he savored the triumph, Tyson knew their work here was far from finished.

The biggest challenges still lay before them.

Soon the Sith fleet would rain down devastation on Taris in a desperate bid to prevent Bastila's escape.

They still needed to find a ship that would allow them to leave the planet.

Sure, Tyson still had the Sith Interceptor, but it lacked shields and a hyperdrive. He could upgrade the ship, adding those features, but Tyson still wasn't sure how difficult Ship Points were to acquire, as he hadn't gained any besides those granted by Q. His ship would serve as a decent fallback, but shouldn't be their first option.

And there was still the idea that Darth Malak would genocide the planet. There were billions of people. But what could Tyson do to stop the Sith fleet in orbit?

In Knights of the Old Republic, there was no way to stop the bombing of Taris.

Was there truly no way to prevent the coming genocide? To stop the Sith warships poised to deal out death on such an unthinkable scale?

But the cold truth was that even if he spent all his SP on upgrading the Sith Intercepter, it wouldn't be a match for the combined might of the Sith armada. He wished he had an answer. Wished that with all his strange powers and knowledge, he could find a way to avert the disaster.

Episode: Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic - Retrieve Command Codes from the Sith Base. Complete!

+50 RP

Reality Points: 250

— Star Jumper —

Tyson

Origins: Human, Humanoid, Drop-In, Space Pirate, Bad Guy

Race: Augment Human-Betazoid (Hybrid)

Character Points: 1050, 600 (Vicky)

Reality Points: 250

Ship Points: 1400

Credits: 116,450

Status Effects: (none)

Drawbacks:

Gauntlet (Locked)

Ensign Marty Stu

A Simple Re'Q'uest

Hybrid (Betazoid)

Amok Time/Blood Fever

Outlawed

The Voyager Problem

Perks:

Cosmic Awareness

Out of Nowhere

Going Native

Live and Let Live

This is (Not?) Rocket Science

Kinda Bland

Determinator

Painted On

Snakeskin

Adaptable

Duelist

Master with your Hands

Best of the Best

Everything Is A Weapon

Augment

Force Specialization: Intelligence

Tactical Info

Sever Force

Items:

Laser Blade

Spacesuit

Agony Booth

Cloaking Minefield

Lightsaber

Gray Goo Suit

Companions:

(Vicky) V-KO IV Nursedroid, Artificial Intelligence Upgrade

Personal Reality:

Access Key

Security System

High-Security Inter-Reality Connecting Door (Star Trek Enterprise)

Medical Bay

High-Security Inter-Reality Connecting Door (Star Wars Knights of the Old Republic)

Key Link

Housing Complex

Basic Nutrition

Spaceships:

Tramp Freighter (Destroyed - Respawn on 02/28/2365)

Sith Interceptor