Adascopolis

Her signature through the sense that closest resembled sight afforded him by the living Force was as familiar to him as any other he had ever known. He and Raksha had not spent long together in any conventional sense, but the closeness that comes from defying death together in combat forged strong bonds, and though he is facing away from her when she calls his name, Cal instinctively turns to face the other pilot when she calls out, a smile betraying his real feelings for seeing her, in stark contrast to the playful, competitive snark in his voice. 

Lieutenant! I thought I could smell an overworked, badly-tuned XJ7 on final approach... or is that your feet, Dhawan? his smile broadened How the hell are you? 

He extended a hand, and pulled Raksha in to throw an arm around her shoulder when she got close enough. Is it snowing? ...you know I can't see, Raksha... damn insensitive of you. His demeanor changes for the briefest of moments as a flash of pain and the memory of one who died nearby enters his mind. But he focuses on the here and now, thankful that his friend has arrived, dulling the hurt and death of this place. 

Any idea why Kel chose this place, of all places? ...place gives me the creeps. indicating the direction of Starstrider c'mon... we go this way. 

Picking his way fairly quickly through the extensive and occasionally horrific rubble and remains of Adascopolis for someone blind and as gravely injured as Cal had been, the pair keep a good pace, though Cal remains fairly quiet, the hurt, desolation, and almost complete absence of life signs through the Force weighing heavily on him. Approaching Theomiir Starstrider's position, Cal motions for Raksha to close up their walking formation. Gripping the hilt of his sabre, they enter the remains of what had been a meditation chamber, approaching Starstrider from his three o'clock. 

Theomiir Starstrider? What brings you here, friend? 

=Theomiir Stardstrider=
The Jedi Knight stood up when the pilots reached him, shaking off the snow that had gathered around him like a protective blanket. Stepping from the shadow of the freighter as Cal addressed him, he bowed slightly. "Welcome to Arkania, friends." He began. "I am sure you were expecting to find Master Raganella, but he was called away to deal with another emergency. He will be back, but in the mean time, he left homework for us, should you choose to accept the assignment." Even now, no longer the only sentient on the planet, he still had to fight to keep the desolation of the place from clawing at the edges of his mind.

"Let's get out of this wind and snow, at least, and then I will tell you all about it." Taking a step away from the G9, he motioned for the pilots to follow him. "There is an underground chamber about sixty meters to my left, your right, that used to be an aircraft hangar." The young man fell silent as they trudged through the snow toward the yawning hole in the ground that had once been a lift shaft for moving starfighters between hangars in the once-proud Guardian Temple. Their pace was slow, as the snow was reaching knee-deep, but after a while, they stood on the edge of the abyss, staring at a pair of glowrods on a duracrete floor thirty feet below. The swirling snow that made it to the bottom of the shaft seemed to be melting, but the light from the glowrods flickered heavily as new snow fell. It was the very same hole that Kel'Al had spent a fitful night the previous night.

"Our first task is to figure out how to get down there before we freeze solid."

Cal winced slightly -- coulda been the cold, might've been the prospect of climbing. But at the same token, he was bolstered by the idea of testing his limits, and he felt the need to do everything in his power to make good with this assignment, both for his friend Raksha and for Kel, and so he collapses his cane, stuffs it in a belt pouch, and keys his com link.

Eyes -- we're staying awhile. Button her up, keep the igniters warm -- just in case. CW out.

Donning gloves, and calling on the force to further strengthen his injured hip and leg, the pilot tests the strength of the grappling wire before taking hold and lowering himself into the chasm. Hand over hand, he lowers himself down into the void, legs dangling beneath himself. The cold works at his hands and fingers, but the exertion keeps him mostly warm, and after a few minutes his feet contact the floor of the former hangar. Grit and small bits of debris crunch underfoot, and Cal cracked another glowered, holding it aloft and casting around the vast cavern to take in the chamber. It was cold, and his breath plumed out before him, but it was still. Though the wind howled above the ground, all was silence below. Turning back to the surface, he called up.

Piece of cake!

Aside from an eyebrow arched in mild surprise when Starstrider explains that the project they have been asked to participate in is one that will not officially exist, Raksha has no visibly discernible reaction to what all is presented to her and Witwer as they follow the Jedi. While Jedi organization and history are not subjects that she is anymore familiar with than the average non-Jedi would be, Raksha supposes that it makes sense that even an organization as ideologically white-hat as the Jedi would have their version of black-ops projects for one reason or another, and while knowing that information does make her wonder what the exact scope of the group Master Raganella intends to organize will be, and what her role in it might be given that she is neither a Jedi nor Force-sensitive, Raksha sets those questions aside for the time being as they seem like ones better asked of Master Raganella himself at an appropriate time, and assuming they are not answered at some point in the natural course of things.

Pulling her gloves on more securely after brushing a bit of snow and frost from them, Raksha asks a question she feels confident Starstrider will be able answer, her pragmatic nature, as it often can, making her avoid any kind of small talk and instead focusing on tasks or objectives to be completed, "Has any progress been made on making this location operable? Or is getting to that point one of the things we've been brought here to accomplish?" Judging from the fact they have just used a hole in the ground as an entry point, Raksha assumes that the answer to her first question will be a big fat no, but supposes there is a remote possibility that there have at least been some efforts to make the ruins a future base of operations. Maybe, she thinks with a tiny spark of hope, someone has brought a caf-maker, or maybe a heater or two.

=Theo=
The Jedi Knight smiled wanly at Raksha's question, and Cal's answer. The current situation was pretty obvious. "Operable? I'm afraid not. That's our first assignment: Figure out what is still operable, and what we will have to bring in from offworld." He paused as Cal chucked one of the glowrods the length of the hangar, and expertly positioned it at the far end, near the badly warped blast doors. "I did bring a few basic supplies in my freighter. Tools, rolls of cable, blankets, blank switchboards, soldering irons, stuff like that."

He paused, turning to look at the side walls of the hangar, and jabbing a finger toward seemingly random places, almost as if counting something unseen. "There should be several maintenance closets and a simulator room on this level, unless they've all caved in -- which is a distinct possibility." Making eye contact with Lt. Dhawan, he pointed directly across to the left wall. "Since this was a secret temple, there were no official plans available in the archives on Corellia, but from what Master Raganella told me, they should be over there somewhere, if you want to start looking?" 

The Jedi Knight had planned to share a few more details of the starfighter unit project, but he decided to wait. His two companions were already interested and motivated by the cold and their surroundings. The other motivational materials could wait until they were warm and dry and settled in for the night. Or maybe Master Raganella would even return in time, to tell them about his plan in person.

He took a crowbar and a wrench from his pack and moved to follow Cal. "Sure, let's see what we can do with those doors." Whatever it was that had erupted from beneath the temple had pushed a great quantity of debris against the blast doors, caving them inward, and dumping a small heap of rubble and a lot of dust onto the inner surface of the hangar. Several large boulders, meanwhile, were lodged in the doors, but no light whatsoever was entering through the cracks around the boulders, implying that the exterior had been pretty well covered over with more debris from the outside. All in all, to a lay person, it would have looked like several days' worth of digging would be needed. But they had the Force as their ally, and that changed (almost) everything.

Nicademus quietly examines the papers placed before him. They didn't make much sense as he wasn't as scientifically apt as his younger sister was. All that mattered was the question presented to the head of the Dionysus Project. He looked at the pale Arkanian for a moment before handing the papers back.

So you were able to extract good samples from the bodies provided?

=Arkanian Scientist=
Indeed, Your Majesty. Please follow us.

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The backstory to what is happening on Arkania began long before the planet's subjugation under the First Order. After the retrieval of Gideon Raith's body from the lonely planet of Ilum, as well as the dark vision given to the would-be Emperor by an unknown entity, Nicademus began contemplating on a project to breed and train an elite guard of several thousand Stormtroopers from the genes of Gideon. The facilities on Khomm were too limited and thus the project was set aside. Yet, when Imperial forces descended on Arkania, the project was revived under a new label, the Gideon Directive, also known as the Dionysus Project. The known traits of Gideon Raith, including his deep-seeded loyalty to the Imperial cause, his tactical genius, and his expert combat skills proved the best for what was to be created. His body was handed over to the scientists for examination and to ensure proper specimens were extracted.

Of course, every project had its issues. The first batch of clones became self-aware and went berserk, forcing Riot Troopers to be called in and putting down the bloody mess within the lower depths of the cloning facility. The second batch proved too submissive but was utilized as good labor nonetheless. The third batch had the issue of shortening lifespans, really short. Batch after batch was done until a promising specimen was bred. He was given the name Alpha. An earlier visit allowed Nicademus to meet him and see the visage of Gideon Raith be revived, although not as great as before, but still better than his earlier brothers. Once the process was perfected, the soldiers were placed in their testing tubes and the first platoon was being trained as the Emperor visited.

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Alpha is proving adept at military tactics and strategy. We hope to make him commander of this First Platoon, Your Majesty. As the first perfected clone of our project, I feel such a reward is proper for this rising clone.

The Arkanian scientist received an approving nod from the Emperor, who was being escorted by a pair of Imperial Knights. His eyes glanced off to their right, watching the clone recruits get their daily dose of training. Alpha was with them, barking orders and getting the troops in good condition for the role they would play. They would subtly replace the soldiers of the standing Braxant Legionnaires, the elite bodyguard of the Emperor. The Emperor stops to look down at the training session.

Continue to look for others like Alpha... Gideon's genes will certainly produce more anomalies like himself. Such clones should not be wasted but groomed to be proper commanders. Ensure there are ten, Doctor.

Yes, Your Majesty.

Nicademus watched as the clones saluted their Emperor from below. Nicademus is visibly seen giving them a salute back in recognition of their public loyalty. It seemed the genes were working quite well. Now only the battlefield would truly prove their effectiveness. The Emperor turns to the scientist.

What of the other project?

We are still working on it, my Emperor. It will take much longer than these specimens, but we hope that this new batch will prove its worth. I assure you, Sire, we will perfect the cloning method for them and meet your desires.

Thank you, Doctor.