The two ships hurtled through hyperspace, closing with Coruscant at a breakneck pace. Xireon stood, letting his black robe drape off the chair, and to his feet. He pulled it taught about his shoulders, as he stared out into the black cold of space.

The robe was of the same Asthentian design as his father's own. The basic outfit of one of the royal palace guards, the outfit consisted of a long, full-body robe, and a waist-length cloak, normally of a different color. While Gash's robe was a dark navy-blue, and his cloak a dark shade of forest green, Xireon favoured a black robe and silver cloak.

Another testament to his love for the father he'd never met.

Xireon shook his head. He loved his father, and knew Gash loved him back; it was all there, in his mind. And Gash's mind, was Xireon's mind. The beauty of flash-learning, and genetic engineering. Xireon was a masterpiece, a child, to the Jedi Outcast.

He was sure of it.

The Sith Warrior looked at the console, the hypercomm button depressing as Xireon pushed at it with the force. Snack's visage sprung forth again.

"Snack, ready your men. We approach Coruscant... reversion in thirty seconds."

It seemed Coruscant never slept, or so Chiisai had come to believe. She had been here for a few weeks now, getting settled in, establishing herself as a banished dignitary and she hadn't yet decided if she liked it or not. Of course, she had appeared with more than enough money to keep herself well cared for and quickly establish many "friends". But this was good, the more people you knew and who were eager to bow and scrape to please you, the more you were libel to learn, and Chiisai was all about information.

Certainly she could find anything and everything she would desire or want, but it all had an undercurrent she was slowly getting used to. Someone might help you find a place to purchase a certain something but they were not doing it for free as it would seem. Everyone was always looking for something and payment could be as discreet as a bit of gossip, or as blunt as a raw gem. The tiny princess was more than eager to digest all of this, since she could quite readily comprehend this type of thinking.

It was interesting to see what all Coruscant would bring her way.

"Quiet..." Pyrael stood up, walking around the cabin. "Mind if I touch the reversion button?" His eyes twinkled like a child's.

"Go right ahead, Knight Pyrael," Snack responded. Pyrael stretched his arm out and pushed a blinking red Hyperspace button. While pulling back the hyperspace levers, the ship slipped out of hyperspace, not so seemlessly.

"Bantha Dung." Pyrael shouted as he slammed his head on the bulkhead. During hyperspace reversion, Pyrael cut the engine throttles much too quickly, causing the ship jerking.

In the brief moment of hitting the bulkhead, Pyrael's whole life passed before his eyes.

But Pyrael was not dying, only cursing at the ship endlessly and trying to calm the lump growing on his head.

"Who made this ship? Poreon?" Pyrael retorted as he slipped back into his seat. Out the circular viewport, Pyrael could see Coruscant. "It reminds me of Kuat, only prettier. What exactly are we doing on Coruscant? The Jedi's main allies rest here..."

"I have a bad feeling about this." Pyrael closed his eyes, obscuring the vision of the twinkling planet.

Xireon watched the lines become stars, and the odd blue glow which accompanied hyperspace travel ceased to exist. The Warrior turned, looking upon his aide, D21.

"Is my landing craft ready?"

'Yes, my Lord.'

"Good... I wish a squad of Cobra Battledroids to accompany me. Stay here, guard my ship; I shall not be long.

'Understood.'

As the ship set down, Xireon was momentarily shaken by the small tremor accompanying touchdown. He stood, nodding carefully to the Cobra's squad leader, and waited for a moment. The ingress-egress ramp hissed, as the cabin was depressurized. Xireon and his eight droids slinked down the metal ramp, the Sith noted that the TNSO shuttle was just touching down.

"Be ready, constantly, my droids."

Been thrown from his chair at the rough lurching of the Star Destroyer as it came out of hyperspace, the Sith Lord made his gaze stay on Pyrael. The gaze turned into a cold stare as he stood up, dusting his cloak off and wrneching his neck in order to crack it.

"Nice exit."

He shook his head once more, and made his way towards his landing craft in the hangar bay of the ship. Glancing behind hims every now and then to see whether or not Pyrael was keeping up, Snack tried to figure him out as well as the mission.

Was her really Aaron? Or maybe a part of Aaron was in him? Why was he so important to this?

Many questions roamed freely as the Star Destroyer made orbit around the busy central planet.

It did not take long for the landing craft to touch down next to Xireon's. The ramp lowered, allowing the two Sith to exit along with their guards, droid troopers: ten of them.

Xireon nodded to the pair of Sith as they disembarked their ship. It seemed they brought with them a larger droid compliment than he; a statement of power, perhaps? No matter. The Sith Warrior approached.

"Snack, Pyrael. Good. We must find information... and there is plenty of that here, if anywhere in the galaxy. We will find it; or it will find us."

The two Sith nodded. Xireon took a look of careful concentration upon his face for just a moment, as his eyes closed and his brow furrowed.

"The Spitting Bantha bar. Come."

The three Sith entered the small, dingy bar, and sat down at the nearest table. The trio were odd, even among the many assorted aliens of the dank bar. A low ceiling and hanging lights made the room appear to be a classic meeting place of the maligned and evil.

Which the Sith certainly were.

"There has to be a contact in here we can talk to. Fan out, find someone who would deal in... antiquities and lore."

Xireon, Snack and Pyrael moved to opposite ends of the bar, talking lowly with various individuals.

His ever present slimey smile in place, Duran Pollis sat down beside Chiisai and she did her best not to bust her wine glass in his face. Chiisai loathed Duran but he had turned out to be a fountain of information. He was a society fly, more like a mosquito really, who ran from group to group hoping for one or the other to take him on as a toy so he could bask in what ever limelight he could.

"My darling lady.." He oozed, reaching out to pick up her hand to place a polite, if incorrectly done, kiss on the back of her hand. "How fair you today?"

"I well." Chiisai let him know, her lovely face blank. One of these days she promised herself she'd beat him with something, preferrably something sharp, but until then, Duran was useful.

He laughed, further grating on her nerves. "Lovely creature, you must take me up on my offer of speech lessons. I assure you, I will have you speaking like royalty in no time."

"I AM royalty." Chiisai pointed out bluntly, loving the way he flushed. Duran would always try to be what she was merely by birth. "Speech lesson no make you royal."

"Well said." His tone slightly pouty, Duran forged on, proving he had a reason for being there. "I hear, my dear, that you are willing to give, shall we say, some good tidings to anyone who brings any interesting information."

Now he had Chiisai's full attention. So far, Duran had always brought her interesting tidbits that proved to be more than well taken by her contacts. "This true, if I like what I told."

"Well, tell me dear, how much would you like to hear the first hint of this news that only I can bring you because I was in the docking area just a few minutes before, playing with my lovely baby." Chiisai knew full well that Duran's 'baby' was a cruiser he pumped every bit of cash he had into it, so he could show how wealthy he was, so she didn't doubt he had been there.

"If I like..." Mulling it over, the little princess had to think of something that would tickle Duran's fancy. "If I like what you tell, I pay your bar tab." She liked the surprised look on his face, knowing this might entice him to tell her more. "If I no like, I buy you one drink."

"Deal." Duran didn't hesitate but leaned in, which annoyed Chiisai, but he continued, catching her attention by pointing discreetly. "Yonder, newly arrived to Coruscant, is Gash Jiren, quite a famous figure really, I'd recognize his face anywhere, but sans his lovely roguish scars." Pouting again, since Duran was generally an expert on the males instead of females, he continued. "A shame really, made him oh so dishy, but there he is. An interesting tale, first he was a horrid icky sith, but now he's changed panties and fights with the jedi."

Chiisai raised a brow, looking at the man indicated. If anyone looked less a jedi, it was this fellow.

"He arrived, seperately of course, but they all gathered together after wards, with those two fellows." He pointed to where Snack and Pyrael had walked off too. "The one, I don't know, the other is a sith as well." Duran then gossiped a few minutes about what he had heard and what rumors there was about Snack, but finally admitted he knew nothing of Pyrael. "But I suspect he's baddy fellow as well, considering he appeared with Snack."

"All in... in..teresting." Chiisai frowned, having to think of the word but she continued without calling attention to it. "But no do me any good if I no know why they here. Every one come to Coruscant. They maybe here for no reason."

Duran frowned. Now that he knew he could get his bar tab paid if this information turned out to be good, he achingly wanted his tab paid. That would be one less creditor he had to worry about and more money to slip into his darling little ship. "Well, then... I'll... I'll just go and find out." Duran swallowed hard, approaching a Sith wasn't his idea of a nice evening out, but that tab was getting huge...

Which was why he headed for Xireon, still under the impression that this was Gash. If he'd turned jedi, Duran was a little more inclined to talk to him.

"Greetings And welcome to Coruscant, you look like a fellow in search of something." He greeted the man brightly, blinding heading into dangerous lands.

Xireon looked down distainfully at the pathetic creature who had slithered his way up to speak with him. Weak, snivvling... and those were just the things Xireon plucked off the top of the man's head. The sort of dregs of society, too weak to live by their own strength, but too stupid to realize it. They would leech off other's, feeding them compliments...

The young Sith felt sickened to his stomach. Everything he hated, epitomized in one man. One fool.

"Who in the Sith are you?"

With that, the Sith backhanded the man hard in the face. The weakling stumbled, then looked back, once again smiling. Xireon had the sudden urge to rip the man's head off, but restrained the urge long enough to let him speak.

'Why... why are you here, good sirs?'

"We are here to seek information. Information you, more than likely, do not have. Tell me... what do the words 'Xal Kra' mean to you, fool?"

Pyrael glanced over at Snack and raised an eyebrow. 'Seems this one's never dealt for information before, especially on Coruscant.' Pyrael shot Snack the message through the force.

Pyrael took a step foward to intervene Xireon and his new punching bag. "Step down, young Jiren. Wise ones do not punch their way through the Coruscant net."

Pyrael lightly shoved Xireon aside and turned to face the thing the young Cyborg slapped. "My companies' dearest apologies, sir. This should cover any harm or embarrassment."

Pyrael flicked the man a credit chip amounting in the five hundreds. "Please, come join our table in the tapcaf next door."

The party walked to a vibrant cantina a few doors down the lower level of Coruscant. "Jiren believes in Jedi ways... He makes a good meal." Pyrael sneered at Jireon as the party took a booth near the back of the cafe.

'Keep Jireon quiet, Lord Snack.'

OOC: For future reference, Xireon isn't a cyborg.

"He will be going nowhere, further Pyrael!" Xireon snapped at the other Sith, as he brushed him out of the way. Pyrael obviously though himself the more reasonable, that treating this imbecile with politeness would yield greater results. "I haven't the time to waste on this weakling. You think me a fool; this is fine, I think you likewise. I know my way around Coruscant as well as any man; your pitiful attitude will get us nowhere.

"Though, perhaps, it is better we conduct business back here. Thus, no one will hear you scream, fool. I beg my companion to brook no further interference. Now, I repeat my question with a small addition; you are a messanger. Tell me, would this person be knowledgable on... ancient relics?