The latest in news, sports, and weather from around the Galaxy.

"Good evening sentients, I'm Androomo Zek,"

The rodian female smiles as she turns to the camera. Her snout job is rather obvious, and her antennae lift even more so, but her broadcasting grin seems practiced well enough. The male human co-anchor sitting to her left would be dashingly handsome enough if not for the bloodshot-pink of his eyes, hinting at his favorite commercial-break activities.

"And I'm Chet Carrigan,"

"And this is the Frequency 12 evening news. Our top story this rotation is holovideo captured from an amazing clash between rogue spacers and security onboard and in the space surrounding the Wheel in the Mid Rim territories."

The newscasters fade from view to be replaced with security cam footage of an armored landspeeder tearing through the Wheel's streets, with station security hot on its exhaust port. That scene then segues into desperate struggle between a decrepit attack boat and the Wheel's starfighter cover. No editing is necessary to spice up the video clip as the crazed pilot of the gunboat pulls insane maneuver after maneuver to evade pursuit, while the ship's gunners reduces the Wheel's interceptors to flaming slag.

"Details are sketchy as of the hour, but word from reporters on the scene is that the daring captain and his rowdy crew made off with several priceless artifacts from an auction at the Wheel Within the Wheel Casino and Resort, leaving its infamous owner Sheffro Gil'usa hospitalized, and in station security custody."

"Haha, whoever that pilot is, if he survives the coming bounties on his head, I want him to captain my private yacht!"

Androomo and Chet share a perfect fake laugh, the animosity and sexual tension between the two as clear as polished transparisteel.

"And now over to Rrrollomav for galactic sports. Rrrollomav?"

"Mmmrrrarh! Gggrrghha. Rrrrowrromhph humph, humph, humph!"

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The blonde woman slams her fist into the console, interrupting the holonews broadcast and deactivating the viewer. The impact sends icy tendrils of pain searing through her injured shoulder, nearly causing her to black out, but she instead uses the pain to feed her rage and give herself power. As she drinks from her limited connection to the Dark Side of the Force, she notices an indicator on a nearby control panel, signaling an incoming communication. Moving out of the cockpit to the small lounge area onboard the Il'Kissarn, the woman kneels ontop of a holoprojection pad, an image fluttering to life before her.

"Judging by the evening news reports, Agent Nassio, it would seem you have failed in your duty. How could you be so inept as to fail a simple retrieval mission?"

Looming over the blonde Sith agent is the image of a red-skinned Devaronian woman, delicate black tattooing covering her arms, just below her eyes, and along her cheekbones. Not a trace of emotion disturb her blackened lips, but her kohl-rimmed eyes promise a less-than merciful death.

"I have not failed my mistress, only... delayed the inevitable. I have placed a tracker on the fool's ship, and pursue them now as we speak."

The Devaronian sith lord shifts, her long dark robes cascading around her. She raises a hand to her face, couching her chin within her palm as she continues to stare down on agent Nasio, unblinking.

"Is that so? And what of the Oubliette? What else do you have to report?"

"The Oubliette was whole when last I saw it, but the Sleeper has awoken of his own volition. He now travels with those that have taken the Oubliette, as well as in the company of an Ithorian Jedi who also sought the casket. I suspect they know little of what it is they harbor, but it is likely that the Ithorian has some idea and seeks to know more."

"You suspect such, do you? Tell me Agent Nassio, do you know what it is these fools carry? And if your powers of deduction were so vast, why did they not provide you with the means to secure the Oubliette in the first place, hm?"

Agent Nassio remains silent, while the sith lord snorts in derision and shakes her head. She places her hands on her hips, and a cruel smirk tugs at her lips.

"It seems this venture has taught you some measure of humility. Bring me the Oubliette Agent Nassio, as well as the Sleeper. His part in all of this intrigues me, and there is likely much I can extract from him. Kill the others, but not before they have fully learned what it means to dabble in the affairs of the Sith. Do not fail me again Agent Nassio, or you shall continue to serve me but not in a fashion you would find enjoyable, I assure you."

"Yes my mistress. But my mistress, I... I must beg a boon of you."

Rising from her crouch, the blonde woman shrugs off her cloak and then pulls back part of her shirt, revealing a terrible wound through her left shoulder, the handiwork of a lightsaber. The rustling of the fabric against the wounds causes her spikes of pain, but she mostly ignores it.

"I was wounded in the recovery effort, and have lost almost full use of the arm. I could have a prosthetic made to replace the arm, but that would endanger my candidacy as a true Sith and I- "

"No. You shall bear that wound as a reminder of your failure. Use what little you know to maintain the injury, and should the Force favor you it will either heal or you shall complete your mission and I will mend your arm when you return with the Oubliette. If not, then you will receive no more than what you deserve. A true Sith neither begs, nor rewards failure."

The projection quickly compresses into a fine line until it disappears completely from view, leaving agent Nassio alone in the darkness of the lounge. Shaking with pain and fury, the sith spy snatches up her cloak in her good hand storms back into the cockpit, throwing herself into the pilot's chair.

They will pay! They will ALL pay, especially that Imperial Knight whore! I will hunt them down and destroy them! All will fear the name of Alixana Nassio, and the glory of Emperor Krayt!

Alixana Nassio sits in the pilot's seat brooding, the Dark Side of the force coursing through her, soothing her wound while simultaneously invigorating her. The Il'Kissarn races through the hyperspace corridor, as relentless as its namesake, and with a commander thirsty for vengeance.