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Post by Isaac on Nov 29, 2011 19:41:29 GMT -5
 Coruscant
Six Months After the events at Penumbra
It was beautiful to behold, a delicate homage to an act so great it would reverberate through history and the Force for eons to come. And such acts always brought about change; in this case, Coruscant was a fruit ripe for the picking.
Altii Varath was one keen to expose Coruscant's blackened core.
"Charges are in place" her Twi'lek counterpart informed her, his pale green skin tinged with red from the cold, illuminated by the miniature holo-display issuing from his wristband. "Keleth says there's a lot of Imperials in there tonight".
"It's not night time, Davrin" Altii purred, drawing up the hood of her cloak and peering through her macrobinoculars at the target; an officers club within the limits of the Imperial compound, now under the jurisdiction of the Galactic Alliance following the push to place security responsibilities in the hands of the Imperial Remnant.
"Oh yeah" Davrin muttered, checking his chrono. "Do we proceed?"
"Can you feel it, Davrin?" Altii asked, as if she hadn't heard him. Her crystal-silver eyes, free of her binoculars, travelled to the heavens, centered on a particular spot where there should be a bright burning star.
"Feel what?" Davrin asked, curling his lekku tighter around his neck in a vain effort to fend off the cold.
"The winds of change, Davrin" Altii replied, rising to her feet. "The time of the Galactic Alliance is coming to an end. This was just the beginning".
"Whatever you say" Davrin said, rising with her. Altii was disgusted at his lack of insight, his lack of ambition. Where he not so intimidatingly large, and proficient at swinging a lightsaber, she wouldn't have considered him for this task. Unfortunately, in order to make a statement, she needed somebody with infiltration skills - hence their third man, the Chiss called Keleth - and someone as brutal as he was dimwitted. Hence Davrin, the Twi'lek.
Minutes later, with their stolen speeder stowed in a back alley, Altii and Davrin were scaling the walls of the Imperial compound, out of reach of the ever-pervasive spotlights, and shrouded in the Force so as to hide themselves from the endless Stormtrooper patrols.
"Remind me why we're doing this again?" Davrin asked, when they reached the peak of the perimeter wall.
"To show the Galactic Alliance that their security isn't as impenetrable as they think it is" Altii replied, not quite as patiently as she'd intended. And to find answers, she added to herself.
"Right, but..."
"Quiet" Altii hissed. "Keleth is signalling us".
From their viewpoint at the top of the perimeter wall, Altii could see a small pin-prick of blue light flashing at intervals, as if suspended in mid-air. Keleth was waiting nearby the shielded entrance, awaiting their response. Altii provided that response by grasping the polished hilt of her lightsaber and twisting it in the limited artificial light, reflecting it so that Keleth would see.
A moment later, just as she and Davrin dropped into the compound, the entrance blew inward with a deafening explosion, littering the courtyard with hunks of debris and immediately forcing all spot-lights and patrols into the vicinity of the blast. By the time the slow-moving AT-AT's had ambled around to begin advancing on the courtyard, Altii and Davrin were inside the officers club, disabling cameras and alarms with the Force, and herding the stunned officers into the centre of the room.
"Shut that music off!" Altii snarled at the bartender, her crimson lightsaber pointing at his throat while Davrin kept the Imperials in check with his own blade.
"What do you want?" the bartender asked, clasping his hands behind his back, presenting her with the stiff, rigid front she'd expected from any Imperial.
"To bring anarchy to order" Altii snapped, slashing the bartender from throat to pelvis, and crushing the sound system with the Force.
"Do you really think the two of you can kill us all before a security squad comes to our aid?" one of the captains asked, edging toward Davrin's blade as if daring him to use it.
"Three" Keleth responded, de-cloaking between the captain and Davrin. "And there'll be no Stormtroopers coming to your aid. I'm very thorough".
Altii glanced toward the main entrance of the club, as if expecting someone, then turned to the group of officers.
"Now, gentlemen, if you'd please..."
"To hell with you, alien scum" someone shouted, and then the shooting began. The first few shots were deflected back into the crowd of officers, felling them where they stood, but then more and more Imperials took control of their nerves and drew their weapons, and Altii found herself pressed up against the bar, batting away laserfire in whichever direction she could. She didn't open herself up to the Force to discern where her comrades were, or if they were even still alive, but instead channelled her rage toward the Imperials. She'd banked on the situation devolving into a showdown, but not this quickly. She'd had questions, questions which were now not only unanswered but unasked.
A young man, an Ensign according to his rank plaque, hesitated for a second too long to round on her, and she plucked him from his feet and drove him skull-first into the ceiling, impacting and shattering his spine. The second officer to enter her sights was Force-grabbed and used to shield her from an incoming storm of blasterbolts.
Across the room, she heard Imperials panicking and trying to escape the mountain of muscle and fury that was Davrin, to no avail. As was befitting his nature, Keleth was nowhere to be seen, but the effects of his attacks were being felt all the same.
Finally, it came down to the three Dark Jedi and three Imperials. The Imperials stood back-to-back, circling to keep the Dark Jedi in view, while the Dark Jedi relaxed their weapons and spread throughout the body-littered room.
"The Jedi will come..." one of the younger officers assured his colleagues, and Altii laughed.
"The Jedi will fail to come, just as they failed to come the last four times we've done this" she spat. "Their time is over, boy. The only people watching the Galactic Alliance is... well, you" she smirked, and with barely a flicker of remorse, sent her lightsaber spinning in an arc which cleanly snipped the heads from all three officers.
"Wrong, actually" a voice said from the main entrance, and Altii felt a stab of danger-sense in the back of her neck, just as Keleth was hurled into the wall and Davrin lost an arm to a sudden lightsaber attack which had come from nowhere. She dropped to the floor and spun onto her back, catching her blade just in time to intercept the killing blow of a Jedi who'd finally arrived. She smiled at him, then slid between his legs and propelled herself onto the bar, landing ontop of broken bottles and glasses.
"I was hoping to draw one of you out. You're not very punctual" she taunted, gesturing at the carnage with her free hand. "And you brought a friend. Really, I only need one of you".
"Careful, Padawan" the Jedi said to his younger partner, who had just finished applying a choke-hold to the wounded Davrin, putting him to sleep. "She's a Dathomirian. We don't know what tricks she may have up her sleeve".
"Actually, I'm Rattataki" Altii mused, rubbing her hand over her hairless scalp. "But you should be no less careful".
The Jedi Padawan was suddenly swept from his feet and into a hanging chandelier, which pulled free from the ferrocrete ceiling and cascaded down into the floor - unfortunately, not ontop of the Padawan, who'd disentangled himself before the fatal landing and thrown himself clear. By that point, however, Altii was already springing at the Master, her blade weaving a tight offense which he struggled to keep pace with. She lacked any recognisable form, but the Rattataki's combat style was fluid and disciplined nonetheless.
The duel lasted only seconds; Altii feinted to her right, and as the Jedi Master moved his blade to intercept, Altii parried, spun to his side, and planted a kick straight into his ribs which knocked him over a table and left him sprawled on his front. As the Jedi tried to rise, he screamed in sudden agony as Altii thrust her blade through his shoulder, pinning him to the floor.
"Master!" the Padawan yelled, moving to rush to his aid. Altii held up her spare hand, catching the reckless Padawan in a web of Force lightning, throwing him aside like a rag doll.
"Now that I've got you where I want you, tell me... who killed him?" Altii snapped, her composure suddenly dissolving into pure anger.
"What... are you talking about?" the Jedi asked, and Altii dragged her blade a few inches toward his spine, forcing another roar of pain from him.
"Don't play foolish with me!" she shouted, shocking him with Force lightning. "I felt his death in the Force! Six months it's taken me to trace it this far" she seethed, ceasing her lightning assault so as not to kill the Jedi before he answered her.
"I don't know... who..." the Jedi rasped, panting on the floor beneath her, his robes smoking and dotted with charred holes.
"Devan Knorr" Altii spat, driving her blade even further toward his spine.
"What significance is he to you?" asked the Jedi. Then something seemed to click into place; the Jedi was genuinely confused, and was now just stalling for time, trying to earn himself as many more seconds as he could before Altii ended his life.
"Pitiful" she muttered, putting him out of his misery with a swift decapitation. She felt a disturbance in the Force, and looked up to see the Jedi's Padawan, on his feet and glaring at her through teary eyes, lightsaber held in a tight grip.
"Remember this, Padawan" Altii advised. "The thought of this will lend strength when you have none, will fuel you beyond any limits you believe you have".
"You'll die for this!" the Padawan shouted, his words impacting her through the Force. She could feel his anger, unbridled and unleashed, and she found comfort in the fact that her pain was shared. She could relate to his inner turmoil all too well.
"Yes, it's a possibility" she admitted, turning to leave. She stepped over the unconscious form of Davrin, found Keleth waiting silently by the main entrance. "The loss of a loved one is a powerful motivator".
Then she left the Padawan to wallow in his grief, to nurture his emotions into something usable. She'd likely just ended his days in the Jedi Order, but it was something he'd benefit from in her estimation.
"What about Davrin?" Keleth asked as they left the building, slinking into the shadows to avoid capture; the panic of the initial blast had died down now, and the Imperials were on full alert.
"Leave him" Altii said, without hesitation. "We won't suffer for losing a weak-link such as him".
"Should I report to the Seraph?" Keleth asked, keeping pace with her while she scaled the perimeter wall.
"Do as you please" Altii replied haughtily, reaching the top and vaulting to the other side.
"He will be interested to know of your personal stake in all of this" Keleth pointed out. "I was under the impression we were simply here to shake things up and lay it all on the Jedi, not..."
He didn't finish his sentence. Altii deftly snatched up her lightsaber and cut off his arm below the elbow, letting it fly into the gutter along with Keleth's communications wristband. Then, before the Chiss could even scream in shock, she wrenched him out of the shadows and pushed him out into the open, straight into the path of an approaching Stormtrooper patrol. Whether or not they'd seen her lightsaber was irrelevant; by the time they'd finished arresting Keleth, she was in her speeder and making her way to the underlevels, intending to scour her memory of the last six months and discover some vital clue that she'd previously overlooked.
Whatever Devan Knorr had become mixed up in, it had ended his life. After everything that had happened to Altii, Devan had provided her with an outlet for her rage, and a focus for her abilities with the Force, among other things. Now, he'd been taken from her, and she had to take vengeance. She owed that much to Devan. Perhaps she even owed it to herself. |
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Post by Kael Serasai on Dec 1, 2011 17:51:11 GMT -5
Six Hours Later "Are we meant to believe this was a Jedi assault?" High Moff Xanven asked, kneeling beside the cold, stiff, headless corpse of Jedi Master Uthan Rey. "Because it's not very convincing".
"I think whatever they were planning, it was botched" Moff Tallarn replied tersely, standing a respectful distance away from the corpse. The Imperial dead had been cleared out earlier, but the Jedi had requested that Rey's body be left where it was, until the crime scene was investigated and they were cleared to come and retrieve it.
"Yes... Captain Keller reported that the Chiss was implicating a Rattataki woman" Xanven said, standing up and crossing the room. "So far we have no leads, but he's adamant. Apparently she betrayed them both and messed up their operation on some personal vendetta".
"It's like this everywhere, Viktor" Moff Tallarn sighed. "Ever since the disaster. The more resources we devote to securing Coruscant, the more the trouble multiplies".
"This is different" Xanven sighed, a cloud of excess gas hissing from the vents in his respirator. "Once people grow accustomed to seeing Stormtroopers in the streets, the general anarchy will die out. But this wasn't just another act of vandalism, this was a security breach of the highest kind. And murder" he added, gesturing at the room behind him.
"If we could press the Chief of State for additional priveleges, we could hunt the third perpetrator down much quicker..." Tallarn suggested, but Xanven held up a gloved hand to cut him off.
"The Chief of State is not a puppet we can easily manipulate" he explained. "We'll achieve our ends, but it won't be overnight".
"Then in that case, I hope their Vindicator achieves more than we have" Tallarn sighed, watching as a sleek black shuttle touched down on the landing pad within the compound perimeter.*Davrin wished the suspension field holding him above the ground would cease it's slow rotation for just a minute, so he could clear the nausea of waking up from his ordeal. Every time he rotated, he caught sight of Keleth, also suspended and rotating above the ground, separated from him by a glowing orange force field. Davrin tried to call on the Force, but found himself unable to do so; the suspension field was shocking his system at intervals, not enough to cause any mentionable pain, but enough to prevent him achieving any sort of focus.
The doors opened, spilling light into the dismal room, and in walked a young man wearing a black uniform beneath a black sleeveless hooded trenchcoat. The hood was raised, obscuring his face, but Davrin caught a glimpse of a thin, cross-shaped scar on the man's jawline as he entered the light.
"My condolences" the man began, sitting behind a terminal in the middle of the room. Davrin couldn't see his eyes, but the man was facing toward him.
"Hmm?" Davrin muttered; even if he wanted to give these Imperial scum the benefit of conversation, he didn't have the strength to.
"My condolences" the man repeated. "Ryloth was lost to the Iskalloni earlier today. You must have family there?"
Davrin smacked his parched lips until his mouth felt moist enough to speak, then croaked a sly chuckle.
"You'll have to do better than that if you want to profile me" he said hoarsely.
"Oh, we don't need to profile you" the hooded man replied. "Davrin Felura, son of Zyti and Jonti Felura. Thirty-four standard years of age, no spouses or children, left Ryloth to join the New Jedi Order at the age of sixteen and never arrived. Seen participating in raids across the Outer Rim and a known associate of the Dark Side Elite. Should I continue?"
Davrin glared at the hooded man for a moment, then shook his head slowly.
"Good. Now... Le'kele'thendes here..."
"His friends call him Keleth" Davrin murmered.
"I'm not his friend" the young man said, patiently. "Le'kele'thendes was gracious enough to furnish the Imperials with additional details than were apparant upon initial examination of the scene" the hooded man said.
"Wait... you're not Imperial?" Davrin asked.
"No, I'm a Vindicator of the Galactic Alliance ShadowNet. Although in the current climate, I believe there's little difference between the Alliance and the Empire" the man replied, activating the console at which he'd sat.
"Oh... so what, you gonna question me? If Keleth has told you all he knows..."
"L'kele'thendes told us what he was willing to tell, but I for one don't trust a Chiss to play his entire hand in one sitting" the Vindicator replied calmly, regarding Keleth for a moment. "For better or for worse, he's obviously hiding details from the Imperials. Perhaps out of some misplaced, lingering sense of loyalty to the Rattataki woman who accompanied you here. Or her superiors..."
"And you want me to talk? I won't do it. I know my rights" Davrin spat.
"Rights? What rights do you believe you have?" the Vindicator asked.
"Look, kid..."
"You'll call me Vindicator" the man snapped. He turned a dial on his console. Davrin wondered if he was supposed to be feeling something, when his mind exploded in pain. He tried to close his eyes, but for some reason, they wouldn't respond to his wishes, and everything became red and hazy. Then, as quickly as the pain had began, it ended.
"What... was that...?" Davrin gasped. As he revolved around in the containment field, he noticed Keleth hadn't moved a muscle, and was still staring dead ahead as he had been when Davrin had awoke.
"The Empire became quite adept at loosening the tongues of stubborn Force-users during its early years" the Vindicator explained. "Their technology is still as effective today as it was then".
"You can't... when word of this gets out..."
"Let me explain something. I'm not here, I'm en-route to the Entertainment District to investigate a routine murder. There is no investigation at the Imperial compound. There is no Dark Jedi terror-threat on Coruscant" he said darkly, and Davrin began to understand. "If you disappear into the bowels of this detention facility for the rest of your life, nobody will notice, and no fragment of evidence will exist to even suggest there's a reason to investigate your disappearance".
"Did you torture Keleth? Is that why he talked?" Davrin asked, flexing his fingers to see if his motor controls had returned to him. They had, for now.
"I didn't, the Imperials did. Unfortunately they broke his mind before he revealed enough, which is why they called me in - unofficially, of course" the Vindicator explained. "Now, I'm not as experienced as the Empire is with this technology, so forgive me if I'm a little over-zealous and wind up tearing your psyche to shreds before you become compliant..."
"Wait!" Davrin panicked, as the Vindicator's finger hovered near the console again. "What do you want to know?"
"The name, location, and agenda of your Rattataki friend, along with the name of her superior and any allegiances she may have" the Vindictor said, his voice still calm.
"What's in it for... ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!" Davrin screamed, as the Vindicator fed him another dose of mind-shattering agony. "Alright! Alright!"
"Talk" the Vindicator ordered.
"Altii Varath. Her name's Altii Varath. She... she works for the Seraph, the leader of the Dark Side Elite. She... she said she'd get me promoted to the top ranks if I came with her on this mission".
"And what was this mission, exactly?"
"She said it was to draw out the Jedi... to set them up, so that when the vote comes down, it weighs against them and gets them exiled from the GA..." Davrin panted, beads of sweat rolling down his face.
"I was informed she had a personal agenda? One which interfered with the supposed plan?" the Vindicator asked.
"I don't know about that..." Davrin's world exploded into violent pain once more, this time more intense than before. "Please!" he cried, once the device had been shut off. "I'm telling the truth! The Jedi arrived, cut off my arm and put me to sleep!"
The Vindicator's eyes, now barely visible thanks to the light from the console's display, glanced toward the auto-tourniquet binding the stump where Davrin's right arm had been amputated.
"Very well" he relented. "There's no profit in questioning you on matters you have no knowledge of. So tell me where to find Altii Varath, and we'll end this".
"You promise?" Davrin asked, his bloodshot eyes almost bulging right out of their sockets. "No funny business?"
"You have my word as a Vindicator" the man said.
"Fine... fine" Davrin submitted. "There's a warehouse in Sah'c Town's lower district used for meat storage. Underneath there's a hidden shelter. Go through the secondary cryo room and lift up the ripped flooring, and the door is there" Davrin explained, speaking as though his life depended on his haste. "There's a fingerprint recognition device keeping the door locked, but it can be over-ridden with..."
"I don't need an over-rider" the Vindicator interrupted. "My lightsaber will suffice".
"Your... your lightsaber?" Davrin asked, noticing for the first time the elongated hilt protruding from the harness on the Vindicator's back.
"Thank you for complying" the Vindicator said, rising and turning away. He moved a finger to the console.
"Wait! You gave me your word as a Vindicator!" Davrin yelled.
"I did? But I was never here..." the Vindicator replied, and turned the dial to maximum as he left the detention cells, a cacophony of shrieks and yells following him, and fading to nothing long before the sound-proofed door had slid home.* "I trust your interrogation went well, Vindicator Serasai?" High Moff Xanven asked, falling into step beside the tall man as he made his way out of the detention block.
"If your people had used the proper motivation on the Chiss prisoner, my interrogation would have been unnecessary" Kael snapped, not bothering to look the High Moff in the eye. He didn't need to recognise the authority Xanven held here, nor to respect his position; in Kael's eyes, a Vindicator was above position and prestige.
"I take it the Twi'lek did not survive the interrogation intact?" Xanven asked, disregarding Vindicator Serasai's rudeness.
"He did, but his mind will not recover" Kael replied, exiting the detention block into the artificial light provided by the ever-active Imperial compound. "It was too risky, leaving him able to speak about this".
"I give you my word that your visit here will remain off the record. It's in the Empire's best interests that ShadowNet's affairs remain hidden from public knowledge" Xanven assured him. Kael paused mid-stride, and rounded on the significantly shorter man.
"ShadowNet is now taking over this investigation" Kael said. The air had taken on even more of a chill, and a bitter wind blew Kael's voluminous hood down. He looked exhausted and weathered, and as Xanven looked into his eyes, he noticed how dark they'd become. His skin was so pale, it was possible to discern a few veins around his eyes and temples. Life in ShadowNet had taken its toll on the young former Jedi, it seemed.
"This is an Imperial affair..." Xanven began, curtly.
"There is no such thing as an Imperial affair" Kael interrupted. "The Empire does not exist. What assets of it survived have been absorbed into the Galactic Alliance, and as subjects of the Galactic Alliance authority, it is your place to submit to ShadowNet's investigative needs when required. This is a terrorist and Force-related situation, and it's now under my scrutiny".
Xanven watched, speechless, as the Vindicator turned and headed back to his shuttle, raising his hood as he walked, marching straight through a squad of parading Stormtroopers and forcing them to make way for him. Then he smiled to himself, as best as his burn-scarred flesh would allow, and returned to the crime scene to see if he could find himself a bottle of brandy which wasn't being fingerprinted by forensics. |
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Post by Kael Serasai on Jan 11, 2012 21:08:06 GMT -5
Chief of State's Office
Coruscant The past six months had proven to be a test on Taja Lohden's resolve, more-so than she'd have believed possible. It was clear to her now that her role as Chief of State of the Galactic Alliance wasn't a mere charade; while her Master had planned to use her as his puppet, pulling strings to bring down the GA from within, she'd since come to form her own plans.
Those plans had begun the day she'd been elected, shortly before the cataclysmic events which had seen Coruscant Prime swallowed from the heavens, and Coruscant itself plunged into perpetual icy darkness. Without risking exposing herself, she'd plumbed every resource available, with a thousand plausible reasons, to discover the identities and whereabouts of the Sith who'd infiltrated Penumbra and proceeded to blot out an entire star and most of it's orbiting planets as if it were a simple daily chore. Her sources had drawn a blank, until she'd had the chance to discuss the matter with Director Reyan of ShadowNet. Apparently he'd debriefed the various ShadowNet personnel involved, and had caught wind from Trenton Vinh that the Sith in question was a once-famed warrior called Drake Paladin and his unknown apprentice.
Since then, her Master had become less forgiving and more urgent, spreading his Iskalloni cancer into the Galactic Alliance and seizing world after world with no apparent strategy or agenda. Taja had been forced to make a choice; to fall in line with Darth Kroenen and his new visions for the One Sith, or to stand against him and carve her own path, her own destiny.
In a sense, she'd chosen both, for even as she now knelt at the feet of Lord Kroenen's immense hologram, she plotted his downfall. She'd conspired with him as usual over the last half a year, even helping him establish the foundations of the One Sith on Dromund Kaas, while at the same time she'd pushed the GA from strength to strength, protecting her domain from threats both without and from within.
"You bring much hope to those under your charge" the decrepit cyborg rumbled, his hand raising into a blade-knuckled fist and clenching, as though squeezing shut on the entire galaxy. "They must have hope, if I am to take it from them".
"Coruscant is not yet recovered from the crisis... it would be premature, to attack now, My Lord" Taja said, keeping her gaze lowered.
"Do not deign to dictate such sensibilities to me, child" Kroenen warned, his mechanical tone bordering on the dangerous. "I will decide when to take Coruscant, and this little illusion of yours will come to an abrupt end".
"My Lord?" Taja asked. This time, she did look up at him, frowning.
"Do not grow too comfortable with your throne" Kroenen advised. "It is borrowed, this leadership of yours. Fabricated. An illusion of power, often more dangerous than the real thing". He was putting it into terms that she, as the Master of Illusion, would understand. She allowed herself a small smile at his expense; he knew so little. "Do not forget where your allegiance lies".
"As you say, my lord" Taja replied, playing the subdued apprentice to the best of her ability. "Perhaps, if I'm to maintain this illusion a while longer, it might be beneficial to furnish me with certain information?"
"And what, child, would you require me to reveal?" Kroenen asked. Something about his cold, mocking voice told Taja that the Dark Lord already knew what she was about to ask.
"The location of the next Iskalloni strike, perhaps? People are becoming demoralised at the recent losses, and I fear it may be too soon" she explained hastily. "Ryloth was almost enough to throw the Senate into disarray, and if I lose the Senate, I lose the people".
"Then I advise you to bolster the defenses of Kamino" Kroenen said, waving her explanation aside. "The Iskalloni can suffer one loss, if it helps perpetuate the eventual outcome".
"Thank you, Master" Taja bowed her head.
"I shall be seeing you soon, young one" Kroenen murmered cryptically, then his hologram dissolved into nothing. Taja stood and sneered at the spot where he'd been, then lowered the hood of her robe and turned to the other man in the room.
"Is he really so difficult to kill?" the man asked, stepping forward so that the empty cone of light from the holocomm illuminated his face. He was young, but his face carried the shadows of many years, dark rings beneath his eyes telling of the weight he carried on his shoulders, a fading slave brand on his right cheek offering partial explanation.
"When the time is right, I shall kill him" Taja assured him. "And you, my apprentice, must remain out of the conflict. If I fail, he may well kill you too..."
"Or take me as your replacement" the young Sith said.
"Yes, Varro... that is a possibility".
"Then I will continue to serve you, until that day comes" Varro declared, raising the hood of his black robe and turning to leave.
"Varro... do not doubt my power" Taja warned. The young apprentice paused for a moment, then strode from her presence.*
Ryloth The Kaas Imperial Fleet didn't exist, at least not officially, and the men and women who crewed its vessels and formed its Stormtrooper Corps had been erased from public record, each hand-picked either for their absolute loyalty to the Imperial Remnant or their untraceability outside of it. Therefore it was late in the hour when the lone black and red Star Destroyer 'Penetrator' loomed over Ryloth, cutting a swath through the debris littered throughout the zone. Turbolasers blasted the larger chunks from its path; prows of Galactic Alliance frigates, engine clusters of decimated Star Destroyers, pockmarked hull armour of Iskalloni battleships. Lifeless, flash-frozen corpses bounced from the hull, their faces still bearing the abject terror of battle against an implacable foe. The Penetrator passed through a hail of smaller debris, setting her energy shields aglow. There was nobody around to see; at least, nobody that would report the vessels presence to the GA. The battle had long been lost, Ryloth abandoned to her new host of Iskalloni and their mutagen.
"Commander, we're approaching the outer atmospheric layer" an officer reported to the white-clad man in charge, Commander Venon. "Preparing to establish geo-synchronous orbit".
"Good. Alert Lord Saras" Commander Venon muttered, not taking his eyes from the viewport. Ryloth looked different even from out here in space, as though the Iskalloni assault had somehow poisoned the very planet itself. It hadn't been long since the occupying force had attacked and soundly defeated the GA; how long would it take for their mutagen to infect the entire world?
"He... he's already on the bridge, Commander" the officer said with uncertainty, gesturing past the Commander's shoulder. Venon turned to study the important passenger who'd been given command of his ship; even though the Dark Lord had chosen to allow Venon to continue in his capacity as Commander, it rankled him to think that his vessel could be put in the hands of someone with no naval experience. Were it not for his status as a Sith Lord, Venon would have objected completely, but as such his requests would fall upon deaf ears. This was the first time during the entire voyage that Lord Saras had even bothered to present himself to the Commander, and the sight of him made Venon's stomach turn.
He wasn't a man, he was a mountain of musclature given form beneath a black coweled cape, bound together by form-fitting armour, a lightsaber swinging from his thick belt so toy-like when viewed against it's owner. He stepped forward, covering the distance between them in a few paces, and stopped before the Commander who found himself staring not into his eyes, but his heavy chestplate.
"My Lord" Venon said curtly, snapping to attention, raising his chin so that he may look the Sith in the face. "It is a pleasure... wait a second, I know you!" he gasped incredulously. "I served with your Uncle before..."
"Who is it, that dares address a Sith Lord so brazenly?" Lord Saras asked, raising Venon from his feet with the Force. He could have done it with a single hand if he'd wished. Venon tried to choke out an answer, but the grip around his throat prevented any noise but a strained gurgle of saliva - and what tasted like blood - and he felt himself kicking his feet as if doing so would gain leverage and bring him back to his footing.
"My Lord, if I may... this is Commander Venon" the officer said meekly, barely daring to look the Sith in the face. "He's the commanding officer of this vessel".
Lord Saras looked at the officer, then at the Commander, as if debating whether it was worth killing Venon and promoting another in his place. Certainly it would provide the Sith with a loyal subject, particularly if he used Venon's death as an example to those that would defy the utmost respect he demanded. But whether by mercy or calculation, Lord Saras dropped Venon to the deck.
"The man you think I am, Commander, no longer exists" Lord Saras said. Not once had he raised his polite baritone voice, yet the malice behind every breath made Venon wish he would. The Dark Lord lowered his hood, revealing features Venon remembered from long ago. But on closer inspection, the man before him was twisted, changed by his foray into the Sith ways. His right eye was surrounded by a blood red tattoo, which extended down his cheek and ended in a hook around the corner of his mouth. Following the mark brought Venon's eyes to the deep, faded scars along Saras's throat. Once he found himself able to stand and look Saras in the eyes, he found them molten and uninviting, a pair of smouldering holes in his pale, vein-lined face.
"Yes... of course, Lord Saras. I beg your forgiveness..."
"Beg later, Commander. I haven't time for any sycophantic prattling, so get straight to the point. What am I looking at?" he asked, turning to face the viewport and the carnage beyond.
"The debris of the Galactic Alliance's last - and only - stand against the Iskalloni invasion of Ryloth" Venon explained. "The battle lasted only hours, and the Alliance retreated quickly. We tried to take some readings on our way in, but the debris field was too thick and there's something either on the planet or in the atmosphere blocking our scanners".
"You rely too much on your technology" Lord Saras said disdainfully. "Look at that atmosphere; clearly it's been contaminated. Intelligence reports from the Iskalloni take-over of Vontor showed a massive ecological shift within hours. Do you think this will be any different?"
"With respect, My Lord, the attack on Vontor did not fall within my jurisdiction or my interests. If I'd have known..."
"You'd have been sure to read the reports in an effort to surpass my low estimation of you" Saras finished for him. "Your lack of foresight and preparation is disappointing, but not surprising".
"Yes, My Lord" Venon said, hanging his head in shame, mostly at himself. Before coming face to face with Lord Saras, he'd had many a vision of putting the man in his place, of shouting him from his bridge and packing him back into a shuttle to Dromund Kaas, to leave the naval officers in charge of naval operations. Now that he was faced with the Sith Lord, it was a completely different story. His throat seemed to constrict, as if in reflex to the thought of what might happen if he were to 'disappoint' the Dark Lord too much.
"I have business on the surface" Saras announced. "I'll be requiring a detachment of Stormtroopers to accompany me. In the meantime I suggest you prepare your starfighter squadrons to survey the scene as per your instructions from the Council".
"You're... going down there?" Venon asked, gesturing at the planet beyond the viewport. "But my Lord, that would be suicide! The Iskalloni..."
"Do not tell me my business" Saras interrupted. Venon winced in preparation for the crushing weight to close around his throat once again, but the mountainous man simply shouldered past him. As he set about putting the Sith's orders into effect, he sighed with relief. At least there'd be no chance of seeing him again. Nobody could survive down there, that much he could tell without the aid of scanning technology. Lord Saras was as good as gone.*The shuttle ride was turbulent, but Lord Saras's passage to the surface was harried only by the storms tearing through the smog-choked skies. Everytime the shuttle broke cloud cover, Iskalloni fighters could be spotted swarming in thick black clusters, so tightly packed that each squadron looked like a writhing, mechanical entity stretching from the ground to the heavens. Already the landscape was changing; where craggy peaks and lush forests had once strewn this area of the planet, now all that dominated was smoke and fire. Buildings had been crumbled and in their place, the framework of sturdier structures was in various stages of erection. In the distance, braced around a tall mountain, was a conical spire which belched thick blue-black smoke into the air and spat lightning which coruscated throughout the atmosphere. Lord Saras had never seen Iskadrell with his own eyes, but he imagined Ryloth would soon resemble that world, as would those that had fallen before it.
"Bring us down over there" Saras instructed as they finally broke through the remaining clouds and descended upon the planet. He pointed to a barren stretch of land which was littered with destroyed GA and Imperial artillery and armour, and now occupied by Iskalloni labour barges and six-legged war walkers.
"That area is showing some very heavy activity, Lord" the pilot advised. "Might I suggest a less densely populated landing zone?"
"No" Saras replied, adding more than a hint of indomitable persuasion behind the command. "Take us down, now".
"As you wish, my Lord" the pilot said, offering no further argument.
While the shuttle began it's spiralling approach to the designated landing zone, Saras was assailed by a string of memories from his youth. The Commander had reminded him that he'd had a life before being called to the One Sith, a life of humility and dignity, a life of enslavement. Not in the conventional sense; he'd been born a noble on the world of Dromund Kaas, before it's induction into the Galactic Alliance. Given the nature of the planet's past, it was unsurprising that he displayed latent signs of Force sensitivity, but his parents had done their best to suppress that. All his life, he'd been made to conform to their rules, been forced to shred his dreams and his desire to be free of such a life, so that he may be modelled into the perfect heir of his Fathers' estate. Unfortunately for his parents, the Force wasn't so easily subdued, and after a heated argument, Saras - then known by a different name, one he wouldn't allow himself to speak even in private thought - showed them the price of earning his wrath.
Saras was arrested for the crime of patricide, and sent to toil away on Mustafar, mining Dolovite from the depths of the volcanic flow along with other criminals.
Despite sleeping, eating and working among them, Saras had never considered himself one of the criminals, and his height had always made him a target for those that found power to be important within such a society. Within a month, he'd been assaulted by a Givin prisoner, who'd tried to slash his throat with a broken piece of equipment. Though he eventually succumbed to the loss of blood, Saras had again felt the touch of the Force on that dreadful world, and used it to hurl the alien into the lava flow. He'd felt the Givin's death, quick yet eternally painful, and had revelled in it before passing out. Surgeons had saved his life, but hadn't given him the benefit of bacta. He was left with a ragged scar from the attempt on his life, but more importantly, he could still taste the sweetness of victory gained by his power.
Politics and events away from Mustafar were lost on him, but whatever shift in the political climate had brought the Galactic Alliance to that miserable world was a mystery to him at the time, though he was sure that the timing wasn't a coincidence; two nights before, he'd felt an extreme tremor in the Force, followed by an unshakeable feeling that things were being set in motion that would involve him. Whether true or not, he was escorted from Mustafar by a cadre of Stormtroopers. He'd expected to be spirited to some prison colony, or to rot on a dungeon ship forever patrolling the edges of known space. When he'd stepped off the shuttle onto a platform of the newly-restored Citadel on Dromund Kaas, he knew his purpose in life had been found.
That was six months ago. Since then, he'd learned much of what had happened during his sentence; of the Yuuzhan Vong invasion which had brought the galaxy to the edge of annihilation, of the shift in galactic politics leaning toward the expulsion of the Jedi, of the war brewing in the Outer Rim between the Iskalloni and whatever forces could be brought to bear against them. And he'd learned how Darth Kroenen, Autarch of the Iskalloni and Dark Lord of the Sith, had decreed that the Sith should replenish their numbers once more, under a single banner, with a single purpose, and annihilate those that would oppose or deny them. A contact within the Galactic Alliance Senate had seen ships and soldiers routed to Dromund Kaas, though they had no knowledge of the connection between their new Masters and the Iskalloni threat. Saras had excelled at his training, surpassing his peers within months, earning apprentiship under the strongest Sith at the Citadel Academy. It wasn't long before Saras surpassed him, too, and caught the attentions of one of the ruling elite, Darth Malys. Old and haggard, she looked like a corpse about to kneel before death, yet Saras found her vigourous as a woman a third her apparent age. Soon the illusion that all Sith were equals, with equal goals, was broken. He had made commitments and oaths to serve the One Sith, but such words were nothing when compared to the will of someone so powerful as Darth Malys. He served her and her alone.
The shuttle touched down and Lord Saras clamped a heavy rebreather over his face. Those among the shuttle's contingency who weren't protected by Stormtrooper helmets did the same, and the ramp was lowered, instantly turning the cloying silence into an aural assault of wind lashing at the shuttle. Breathing in the rich oxygen provided by his rebreather, Lord Saras stepped onto the ravaged world; all around him, Iskalloni had stopped what they were doing, and were closing on the shuttle in a tightening circle. His hand dropped to his lightsaber, but he resisted the urge to draw it.
Chief among the Iskalloni present were semi-converted Twi'lek's, all in varying stages of transformation. The airborne mutagen had taken hold quickly, and the invading Iskalloni forces had been hasty in replacing organic parts with crude cybernetic enhancements. A Lethan Twi'lek, her flesh ashen but still slightly tinged with red, stepped toward Lord Saras, her lekku twitching as the tranceivers implanted over their tips registered signals from her brethren. When she was five paces away, she came to a halt, and cyan light washed over his face, emitted from the implant over her left eye. The light coalesced over his own eye, mapping the lines of his Sith marking, before disappearing.
"Lord Saras, your signature is recognised" the Twi'lek said, her words spoken in unison by four other Twi'lek who had approached behind her. "Instructions received from Autarch Kroenen. Present your cargo".
"It's onboard the shuttle" Saras replied, gesturing behind him at the vessel he'd arrived on. Without audible command, two Twi'lek converts ascended the shuttle ramp. Saras remained where he was, eyes fixed on the abomination before him. "You are the Prime?" he asked, to break the awkward silence.
"We are" the five Twi'lek answered. The Prime was the term given to the first native individuals to reach a state of conversion deemed suitable to begin integrating the others into Iskalloni protocol. Their minds were the first to be linked to the Iskalloni network, and from then on they effectively became the leaders of that planet, the enforcers of Kroenen's will.
"The Autarch instructs that this package be guarded at all times. One will come for it, one who is meant to retrieve it, but he must not be given it easily" Saras explained. "Do you require further clarification?"
"Negative" the Prime answered. "Autarch Kroenen's will is known. The package will be surrendered to nobody".
"Good" Saras said, then turned. Behind him, the Stormtroopers he'd brought as escort were milling about uneasily, each and every one of them gripping their blasters as though their lives depended on it. "What you have seen here can go no further" Saras addressed them. "To that end..."
"Unauthorised vessel approaching" the Prime announced, and all heads turned to the skies. A shuttle, identical to the one Saras had appropriated, was descending on the landing site. There was no doubt in Saras's mind as to who was aboard.
"You defy reason" Commander Venon spat, as soon as he'd debarked and was within earshot. The wind tore at his greyed hair, and the man looked like he may be whipped from his feet by it at any moment. "This... is intolerable! These things... they destroyed my home! Turned my family and friends into monsters!"
"What possessed a spineless creature such as you to follow me down here?" Saras asked, with genuine concern. Venon's presence here complicated matters.
"My instinct told me you were upto no good" Venon snapped, jabbing a finger into Saras's chest armour. "Here we are, at the site of a major disaster, and I find you consorting with the enemy! And to include decent Imperial soldiers in your treason... it's an outrage!"
"Perhaps I underestimated you" Saras said darkly, unamused by Venon's sudden untimely discovery of his back-bone. "You've put me in a rather difficult position".
"Why?" Venon asked, ignoring the veiled threat. "Why this?"
"You question the actions of a Sith" Saras reminded him.
"You're damned right I do!" Venon exclaimed. Unbeknown to the Commander, Iskalloni all around were stirring. The Prime stared at the Commander, glassy-eyed, as though they were communicating internally. "I've never questioned any of it before. Why I was withdrawn from duty and re-assigned to a ship that doesn't exist, serving Sith that the Galactic Alliance doesn't know has returned. Why a Sith Lord had such a vested interest in my voyage to Ryloth, why hundreds of Imperials are putting their lives on the line, in secret, to investigate an enemy which should be exterminated..."
"And why do you serve the Sith, Commander?" Saras asked. "Surely, at this point in the venture, you're not having objections to your station?"
"I serve because the Sith represent a real chance at beating back this enemy!" Venon shouted, the wind threatening to drown out his voice. He held a hand to his rebreather, as if in fear that the storm may tear it off and expose him to the Iskalloni malignance. "I've heard of the history of the Sith and the Jedi, and it means nothing! If either one represents a chance of saving the galaxy from these... these abominations, I'll gladly serve, even if that means keeping secrets".
"But you won't keep this one" Saras said. "That much is clear".
"Oh I won't be keeping this secret. When the Council learns of your actions here, they'll string you up themselves" Venon sneered, enjoying his moment of victory. Saras was all too happy to snatch that moment from him.
"Who do you suppose assigned me this task?"
Venon's face fell, and Saras side-stepped so that Venon may notice the Iskalloni with their weapons brought to bear.
"No..." Venon said, going pale. "It was all lies..."
"The Iskalloni serve their purpose for the One Sith" Saras said, not even looking at the Commander now. "As do we all. Unfortunately, you've brought your usefulness to a premature end. I was hoping I'd merely have to sacrifice a few Stormtroopers, to sell the deception of my harrowing journey into the heart of Iskalloni territory to disable their prime command node..."
"It was all lies" Venon repeated, closing his eyes so that he may shut out the horrors about to befall him.
Saras didn't allow him the privelege. As the Iskalloni fell on the Stormtroopers, tearing them apart with blaster and blade, Saras hoisted Venon into the air with the Force, crushing the air from his lungs, forcing him to open his eyes and witness the destruction wrought around him. For a fleeting moment, Saras considered ripping the Commander's rebreather off and leaving him to a fate worse than death, but to do so was to leave a traceable link here on Ryloth. When the Alliance inevitably came probing this world, he didn't want to risk them finding a Commander who'd disappeared long before Ryloth met it's fate.
"Kal... please..." Venon choked, the unmistakeable sound of blood gurgling in his throat.
"I no longer answer to that name" Saras murmered, his voice drowned out by the popping of bone and the crunching of organs. He let Venon drop to the floor and returned alone to his shuttle. The pair of Iskalloni who'd boarded emerged carrying a large lockbox between them, and paid him no heed as he strode inside the shuttle. He pushed the recently-dead pilot out of his chair, and took up the controls. Taking a moment to witness the end of the bloody conflict betwen the Iskalloni and ill-fated Stormtroopers, he strapped himself in and prepared to return to the ship waiting in orbit. |
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