The admiral, fingers interlocked under his unshaven chin, looked over at the staff psychiatrist. Do you have any questions for me admiral? No. The psychiatrist nodded and began to write something into his datapad. Where is your current residence other than your quarters aboard the Dahlonega? Where do you call home? No where. I’ve been living just above a gypsy for the last ten years. Are you married? Of course, I have a woman in every port. The psychiatrist took more notes. Let’s move on. What expectations do you have for yourself for a Commonwealth victory at Hapes? I expect… I expect that’ll have to kill a lot of people. Could you be more specific? No. But I have a question. Yes? Who put you up to this? Moving on, what do you think of this meeting? I think it’s a waste of my time. I think you’re unfit to command. That’s fine.
Tarn was waiting for Wilkar outside the Dahlonega’s psychiatrist’s quarters.
“They want to relieve me. I’m mentally unstable, unfit for command,” said the admiral nonchalantly to his bodyguard.
Tarn ran his hand over the top of his perfectly bald head. “They said that last time too. Then you cut the heart out of the Domain fleet,” encouraged Tarn. “But I have read your psych evaluations, so I won’t comment sir.”
“Let’s go to the bridge.”
Later
Tarn and the Dahlonega’s psychiatrist were surrounded by multiple hardlight projections. Admirals, generals and senators cared to hear the bodyguard’s opinion on the matter. Tarn watched the secret tribunal in silence.
“Sirs, the man is unfit to command a scout ship’s galley. The fact that he is even still in the navy is beyond me. The only thing the man’s last five psych evaluations correlate with are well… They don’t correlate with much of anything. They’re off the charts. He’s completely insane in my professional opinion. I think he’ll crack the minute that the battle begins,” assessed the psychiatrist.
Rance Michels rubbed his temples. “What are you basing your analysis of Vice-Admiral Wilkar on?”
“Well reports of course, sir,” answered the psychiatrist, now unsure of himself as the Senator fixed his glare on him.
“Well then let me remind you of something. While somewhat brazen and grizzly and not the man he was ten years ago, Vice-Admiral Wilkar is a hero of the Commonwealth. His decisive actions at the Battle of Kirima saved the fleet and the capital. Were you their doctor? Did you witness it?” probed the senator.
“No sir, I was still in school,” said the young man, dipping his head.
“Then let me tell you something else doctor. I am originally a student of mental health, much like you. I have also reviewed the admiral’s yearly evaluations, and I know him on a personal level. The Commonwealth does not have a more effective killer. He may say that he wants peace and good life, but battle is the only peace that man has. He’ll never turn away from it because he’s so goddamn good at it. Do you understand doctor?”
“Yes sir,” acquiesced the psychiatrist.
“What is your opinion on this… issue Captain Sarno?” asked the Senator.
“He’ll do the job sirs,” answered the captain, rationing his words. The less you said, the less you had to explain.
“Then this meeting is adjourned.” The rest of the tribunal agreed, and their hardlight projections disappeared.
Much Later
A half smile came across Wilkar’s face as he crumpled up the piece of flimsiplast and handed it back to the intelligence officer. The gods had laid out quite the gauntlet for the tired admiral. Around every turn, the game board pieces were yet again scrambled. Variables were added, removed, and then added again. Misfortune increased. Misfortune decreased. Misfortune seemed to usually increase.
Sometimes the gods punish you. They give you not one but two seemingly impossible tasks, two wampas fighting each other to cut your throat. But then sometimes they reward you.
“Mercenaries…” whispered the admiral.
“Sir?” inquired the intelligence officer, turning to him.
“I said the Executive Council threw me a fucking bone for once and bought the best equipped navy in the galaxy bar none. The Kashans definitely lack the sense of humor that I find necessary when killing people… a very uptight race they are… but they fight with the best of them.”
“Sir, I must confess that I think it is inappropriate to refer to our new allies as… as… mercenaries. I hope you do not damage this superb opportunity for comradeship with these inapt generalities,” said the intelligence officer with a very school teacher air about him as if he was scolding the admiral.
The admiral’s nostrils flared in anger and he gripped his armrests of his seat a little harder.
“Don’t confess to me. I’m not a fucking priest, but I will tell you something very important lieutenant. We bought those Kashans with millions and millions of tons of high quality but cut-price foodstuffs. They wouldn’t be giving us the goddamn time of day if they weren’t boiling jackboots to make broth.” The lieutenant was taken back by all of this. “What you didn’t know that? And you’re in intelligence? Goddamn!” exclaimed the admiral. “I said send those imperialistic bastards grayweave. That’ll cool ‘em off for a couple of years, balance power in that area for a while…”
The admiral sighed.
“But they sent them the good shit,” he continued. “Now they’re feral again, ready to give anything, make any deal to keep the Empire back…”
The admiral looked out the viewport into the transitory mists. Immediately he was lost in thought. Of Kashans, of Lupercus, of battles lost or won, of glory lost or gained, of men who died under his command.
It was a lot to carry. Especially for a crazy man.
Regrad, hunched before the holodisplay at the center of the table, couldn't avert his gaze from the data racing around before his eyes. The evidence seemed irrefutable - these Reavers were not the Black Dragon Empire, and the threat they posed was new and strange.
"Their numbers can be replenished," Ferguson speculated, "but not their war material? If that's true we could still defeat them in battle - just make sure you finish off every ship so they don't have anything to restaff."
"That's assuming this Overmind takes that into account when calculating population," said Panacka. "It could be if it has no ship to post Reavers on it just makes some and keeps them in reserve. We don't know what it uses to define a 'stable population', it could be using some sort of network capacity as the upper limit."
"True. We don't have nearly enough information yet to form any decent battleplan. Still, we're doing better than we were before."
"Then what about the Imperial fleet?" said Ruuvan. "While we sit here that idiot Thorton could be ploughing through Reaver space destroying everything in his path. Hell, even if we explained it to him the Imperial High Command's hardly going to care about the Reavers killing our people to replenish their numbers."
"Aren't there a few Imperial worlds behind the line?"
"Oh, like the Empire's going to grow a conscience overnight. INS'll just spin it if they have to."
"We could end up in the unenviable position of making war on the Empire to keep them from making war on the Reavers," Yolem muttered.
"What about this holonet stuff, huh?" Dondana reached into the holographic display and pulled up a map of the holonet network running through the sector. "If it organizes along the holonet, we could destroy the connections. Maybe paralyse them that way."
"This intel's pretty questionable," said Ferguson. "Still... we could file that away for later, under 'maybe'?"
Discussion fell silent as Regrad began to stir. He had seen whatever it is he'd been looking for in the swirl of holograms, and fixed eyes with the droid messenger. "You're absolutely sure of everything you said here today? You endorse this completely? I want to be absolutely clear here, this is true?"
Gamma inclined his head ever so slightly, and Regrad nodded in response. "Very well."
The Prime Minister rose to his feet, as did his colleagues. "There will be no war on the Reavers this day." He rose both hands to quell the words of protest that hung in the air. "We know just enough now to know that we need to know more. More to the point, we need to share this new intelligence with everyone, the Confederation, the Empire, everyone. This new threat is a wild animal that will require the attention of all of us to bring down."
"What are your orders?" asked Yolem.
"Cooperative, Azguardian, and Eastern fleet forces will mind our part of the border for Reaver incursions. Ferguson, relocate all your resources to this sector - the rest of the galaxy doesn't exist until this is solved. Dondana, you will return to the House immediately and update them on the threat. Publically. I want the word out to as many as possible exactly what is going on, in order to avoid rash action. Rouse the diplomatic corps, we're sending delegates immediately to the Confederation and the Empire to tell them everything we know and beg for a summit on the matter."
With that, Regrad rounded on Gamma. "As for you, Smarts, I don't know exactly how you got this new information, but we're going to need more. Everything we can possibly learn, everything we can possibly do about this new menace. We relocated our field science teams here during the retreat from Reaver space, and there's no better place for us to start unravelling the full mystery of what the Reavers are and what we can do about them. Meet me there at your convenience."
Looking once more around the room, Regrad clapped his hands together. "Dismissed, gentlemen. You have your instructions, let's just hope they're enough."
Bridge, Summit-class Battleship Fidelitas, Task Force Fidelitas, Invil System
“…the Providence had an air leak and a rupture in a cargo compartment, but everyone else that survived seems to have escaped with only minor damage,” reported Labrousse, twirling a strand of red-gold hair, “I think it is fairly safe to say that it was for the most part an all or nothing escape. They’re either here or they’re dead.”
Von Masmount curtly nodded at the visage. “Thaaankkss.”
The Fidelitas hovered at the edge of the system, maintaining a static position with the rest of the task force. A flurry of civilian craft of all sorts and shapes huddled around the Confederate warships. Von Masmount watched some of the ships pass by the bow of the battleship. Another consular barge. By the maker, they must have survived like the lemmings species. A bunch die, but a few dozen make it…and a Trojos shuttle? This deep in space? He recalled an astromap of the area. Trojos must have fallen right before Invil…another victim to the barbarian hordes…
“Sir,” asked an officer, “The President of Invil is requesting permission to dock with the Fidelitas for a personnel discussion with you. Shall I grant her request?”
Von Masmount nodded and turned to the holographic image. “Youu’ll beeeeee mei…my reeepre…reseeeentaaaative tooo themmm…wi-th thheee Cap-tain.”
The visage broke into a broad grin. “Very well Commodore. I guess I should change into something more formal.”
With a flash of static light, the red cocktail dress and elaborate hair disappeared to slim light-gray uniform and a tight bun which bounced at the back of her head. She flashed an amused smile to the bridge crew and promptly marched out of the bridge, not bothering to either open the foyer doors or dissipate into nothinginess. Von Masmount managed to stop himself from shaking his head. Frakking acts like she owns the place.
***
Diplomatic Quarters, Summit-class Battleship Fidelitas, Task Force Fidelitas, Invil System
“Welcome aboard the Fidelitas, Miss Bonnin,” stated Geoffrey, offering a hand.
Jacqui merely nodded at the woman. “Welcome aboard Mrs. President.”
Geneviéve Bonnin grasped the captain’s hand and stared at the holographic visage with dubious eyes. A quick frown flickered over her near-black face before she slid through the foyer to admit a man nearly her opposite in physical appearance. The man’s flight suit managed to stretch over his pudgy bulk, and his dark eyes lit up with the pleasantness of a child’s birthday party. He quickly seized the Captain’s hand without introduction, and bore a broad grin to the AI. Bonnin rolled her grey eyes.
“This is Colonel Everard, the highest surviving officer of the Invil System Security Forces,” informed the President, “perhaps our most decorated pilot who has survived the fall.”
Everard sagely nodded. “Trista is better actually, Miss President, but she has something of an unmeritous temper…”
“Thank you Colonel; I am sure you can relate the remains of our forces to the Confederation at another time. Please take a seat,” ordered the woman, waving the man over to a seat.
“We already taking an inventory of your ships and personnel,” informed Labrousse quietly, apparently striding over to Everard, “it would appear that you ships from other nations in your convoy.”
Bonnin sighed. “Many ships fled from Trojos, which was being attacked by the same invaders about two days earlier. We think that these raiders followed the refugees to us. We gave them a home, and now we are homeless.”
“It would be a cycle, actually,” commented Geoffrey, “there are several ships from areas closer to the borders of the Black Dragons than Trojos. Trojons probably lost their homes in the same way.”
“But we’re different,” interrupted Everard, “we can’t all escape to a different world.”
“Oh?” questioned Abell.
“Twenty-one of their ships do not have hyperdrives,” commented Jacqui, “and from some of the Fidelitas’ scans, it looks some of the hyperdrives that the ships do have have been pretty well taxed by escapes from other planets.”
“We are as good as marooned,” sighed the President, “islanded in a stream of stars.”
“That is,” interrupted the Colonel, “without your help.”
Abell winced. “This is a gray area, and I’m not really sure what we can do; not because of technical matters, but operation and political procedures. We have space for about five thousand passengers on the battleship currently, but we can’t have foreign civilians and soldiers clammering around in the insides of our ship…”
“But you must do something,” demanded the Colonel, “not only do many of these barges not have hyperdrives, but they’re packing people inside them like sardines. People can’t live shoulder-to-shoulder for days.”
Abell sighed and turned to Jacqui, “Ask the Commodore for instructions.”
Jacqui silently nodded and seemed to daydream.
Bonnin raised a brown eyebrow, “And the Commodore will be able to make these political decisions?”
“He should have a better understanding of political operations, and he has more leeway in what he can and cannot do,” explained Abell.
“Bah,” swore Everard, “politics, policies, they’re always the same: always delaying things. You know, this isn’t like ordering parts. People are going to start dying in a matter of days, given that we don’t even have enough water supplies for the people on the cargo barges. And that’s assuming that the invaders don’t get us first.”
“I’m certain that we can offer your ships protections from the Reavers while we’re in system,” informed Abell.
“And just how long will that be?” questioned the President.
The captain spared a glance downwards. “I don’t know.”
“I think I have got us an answer,” informed Jacqui.
The room’s central holo-projector made a quiet thrum to produce a life-size picture of a serene brunette dressed in white. Her hazel eyes quickly scanned the room, making apparent eye contact with each of the four. She curtly nodded at the dark-skinned woman.
“President Bonnin, I am so sorry for your loss. Commodore Von Masmount and Mrs. Labrousse here have informed me about your situation. I tend to echo the Colonel’s sentiments, if I have heard the recordings properly. But perhaps before we continue, perhaps I should introduce myself. I am Pro-Consul Thorn of the Contegorian Council…”
***
One day later…
Bridge, Summit-class Battleship Fidelitas, outskirts of the Invil System
“Wayward Sun has jumped…Foudroyant is confirming that the Invil Invincible has just completed its journey to the rendezvous point,” informed a sublieutenant.
Abell nodded. “Are the barges secured in the hangar bay?”
“Yes sir, but we’re waiting on half a dozen of them to properly be locked in within the construction bay. It’s not easy, maneuvering things the size of a corvette inside the middle of a battleship, even using repulsorlifts and tractor beams…”
“Packing a bunch of ships in like that is like asking us to strap a bomb around chest…” muttered Abell.
“It’s only for two jumps though,” reminded Jacqui.
“Are you going to tell me that if you were human, you’d try two games of Russian roulette?”
“There would at least be the thrill of the risk,” considered the red-haired visage.
Abell growled. “I don’t like gambling with men’s lives.”
“You are if you leave them behind though.”
The captain shook his head. “No, I’m not. I wouldn’t be risking my men’s lives if we left them behind.”
“It’ll be the last time we deal with them…”
“For now…”
***
Desmoines, Ecnal
“Those are the terms.”
The burly man frowned. “Since when did the Confederation start bullying around neutral nations…”
“It hasn’t,” growled Tobias, “but if you want your family’s colony to inducted into the Confederation for defence against the Reavers, you will have to accept these refugees as your new citizens. I assure you, not all of them will permanently settle down here on Ecnal. They just need a place to stay, for now.”
“Well,” considered Webb, “there’s plenty of land, or should I say swamp, for them. But there aren’t any jobs for them…”
“Can you provide them with water and food?” questioned Tobias.
“Well, this is an agricultural world,” suggested Webb, “so we’ll have enough rice and liquor from it for them. It might get old though for them, and the last thing I need is a bunch of dissatisfied squatters rioting while my family profit’s dip because of feeding them…”
“I do not think that the refugees will mind,” commented the Commodore, pointing upwards, “Do you see that ship in the sky?”
The two glanced upwards to see the Fidelitas glide over the planet, leading a trail of refugee ships and Confederate warships. Webb looked down to the citrus and rice groves around them. He snorted before glancing back at the CMF officer.
“I see the big ship. Is it suppose to reassure me somehow? That it will quell the squatters like the Imps use star destroyers? Or that it’s a reminder of the defence that’s offered in exchange for hosting these people?”
“No,” replied Tobias, “like you said, it’s big, and we don’t have many of those. It will have to leave within the week to help out others dealing with the Reavers. Along with the rest of the task force. Governor, those squatters don’t want to be here any more than you probably want them to be here. But they are the start of your planet’s defence.”
“What?”
“The President of Invil’s people has essentially rallied her people to retake Invil at some time, with Confederation assistance, so they’re beginning to get ready to fight the Reavers. This means training for war, and converting their civilian ships into warships. And you are going to host them, because they will help protect you, and you will supply them with the basic supplies for them to live. If they get out of hand, I can assure you that the Council will repay your family’s losses and resettle them somewhere else. It will be a complementary relationship. Do you accept?”
It was amazing how consistent Ortho Gutt's luck was.
In a conspiracy that saw the massacre of billions, he was the only one being held in jail. The only other person caught (as far as the former Captain knew) as a co-conspirator was Moff Khendon (though, truth be told, he was not).
Others involved seemed either to carry on as if they had no part or, worse, simply disappeared from public sight.
It never occurred to the former Captain of the ISD Predator that these 'disappeared' people might also be held in other secret facilities or perhaps dead. It did not occur to Ortho to even ponder the fact that while others had died, he himself remained alive thus preserving the fact that his luck, while consistent, might perhaps also be good.
No, Ortho preferred to dwell in the self-pity of his circumstances though not without good cause. In the beginning of his arrest and incarceration, he had held onto the soldier's hope that while he was alive there was hope.
For what?
Anything!
There had to be a reason he remained alive while Moff Khendon, a MOFF! had been unceremoniously shot. Perhaps Zell and the others were biding their time to spring him from his inglorious prison?
Oh what flights of fancy his brain conjured up! What meager threads of victorious success he mentally tugged on all the while slumbering on a hard metal bed subsisting on rations fit for only a sick Ugnaught.
His lips trembled as he unconsciously whispered commands to an imaginary crew reliving the past glories of command while shivering under the thin sliver of blanket given by the prison guards.
Or perhaps it was simply a feverish mind that refused to acknowledge a predicament that everyone else thought was a forgone conclusion.
He was the sacrificial lamb upon which an entire city-wide state, an Empire no less would lay the blame for atrocities unmentionable.
No. He was a soldier. He was alive and he had done his duty.
There had to be reward in that!
Didn't there?
That night. At the OG. Being showered with praise among the pantheons of the Empire, by his betters... now his equals!
He had accepted his duty to be the face and public figure of the Project. A project that was the cornerstone of protecting an Empire in the most brutal fashion known.
He had done his duty!
Hadn't he?
He tried to remember the nuances of the meeting. He tried to remember what it was they had said and what he actually had done. Other than receive a very generous paycheck from an unmarked account, sit in his office, demand reports that really meant nothing to him and putting down his signature on transfer orders too complicated to be bothered to read in detail, what was there?
In the midst of all that, billions had died?
He did not remember any firing squads.
He did not remember a single name of anyone who was said to have disappeared. In the beginning, he would get visitors asking if their family member, friend or neighbor who went missing had died or if there was still hope.
He would look incredulously at the visitor. How the hell was he supposed to know?
He simply took his paycheck and frequented the brothels or the occasional slaver.
Was it murder if a slave died?
He didn't think so. The handler didn't think so. The many number of individuals whose palms were greased to look the other way in and out of the Empire did not think so.
So who were these people to look at him with contempt?
Who were they who sat in their comfortable homes oblivious to the wars Ortho had fought and the blood he had spilled on their behalf?
Ungrateful jackals the lot of them!
He had stopped accepting the visitors quickly after that.
He had done his duty.
Hadn't he?
Then the trial.
That damned trial where the very character of Ortho Gutt was not only eviscerated but burned for good measure.
And for what?
So those who had rested their backsides comfortably in the world that Ortho had nurtured into existence could strut before him turning their noses up at him.
At him!
HOW
DARE
THEY!
His hands had clenched into fists.
The Prosecution had spun a story of a lonely Governor of Garqi amassing enough personal wealth to set himself up as a criminal overlord within the Empire, using connections that Afdol Hilter himself (formerly of Agro Industries on Garqi now Overliege of Ukio) used to spread his own brand of criminal terror throughout the galaxy.
Perhaps Ortho felt justified in following in the other's footsteps?
Perhaps Ortho just liked the life of a criminal but whatever the case, justice had caught up to him.
The Defense of Ortho Gutt focussed on his military career of exceptional service. Exceptional in the fact that he hadn't screwed up in any major way and had done somewhat well under combat conditions.
But his military record could only go so far without character witnesses of which there were few. Those who worked in the office where he signed documents and generally tried to stay away from were merely HRDs who were wiped during the confusion of his arrest.
The Prosecution intimated that perhaps it happened at Ortho's command to limit further incrimination but even Ortho was puzzled as if he did not know they were HRDs to begin with.
The spectators did not buy the act.
Captain Yatta, his good friend was out with his ship and could not be bothered to darken his rising star of a reputation by being associated with his 'screwed' friend.
Ortho wished a thousand deaths upon his friend and as the trial wore on a slow truth began to creep into his mind. He looked left to right as if he were on a sinking ship wanting to grasp a line, any line towards safety.
Who could he call on to vindicate him?
Simon Kaine?
The Supreme Commander had retired and was nowhere to be found. Were he even to mention the man's name in connection with himself, he saw that the furor surrounding him would be inflamed more for how dare he drag the Empire's most celebrated soldier's name through the mud to save his skin?
He thought of Azrael Zell but one look at the old man's stoney face in the audience told Ortho that his very existence soiled the uniform both had worn.
The unfairness rankled.
He had done his duty!
Hadn't he?
The icing on the cake for the Prosecution was the putting of the girl's parents on the stage and, in the court of public opinion, Ortho's proverbial coffin was nailed shut.
Their tearful memories of their daughter tore at the heart strings of the spectators as Ortho struggled to remember if she had even been a good lay.
In the end, he shrugged giving up the search.
Some of the shrug must have showed in his body language for the parents saw it and lashed out a him. His expression showed surprise at their vehemence and the audience was ready to turn into a lynch mob.
"Alien hater!"
"Racist!"
"Murderer!"
"Rapist!"
That last charge drew a frown from him. He did not rape her. He paid good money!
Zell's expressionless face seemed to harden that much more with each chant as the regional Magistrate tried to restore order.
Ortho's eyes were desparate for a lifeline.
He had done his duty!
Hadn't he?
The old man's eyes hardened that much more.
The pressure mounted causing the rotund man to stumble somewhat back into his chair with a headache. He couldn't take it anymore.
As the girl's mother was being escorted off the stand she threw off her handlers and ran shrieking up to Ortho ready to claw his eyes out. The guards arrived too quickly and as Ortho desperately fought her off her hands balled into fists and pounded against his chest.
"You murdered them all, you....you....monster!"
She looked up at him as if searching for the piercing of his soul with her final judgement but saw only confused silence and sweat beads dripping from his head.
"You don't even know..." she whispered before fainting.
And it was at that moment that things fell into place. The meeting. The position. The money. The free reign.
He turned to Zell and, in the midst of his changing perspective, the old man's hard, stoney eyes suddenly were not accusatory.
No. They were demanding.
What did the old man want?
What did they all want?
He had done his dut---
Hadn't ---
He...
Ortho Gutt stopped his thoughts as the experiences over the past few years suddenly came together branding a realization upon his mind.
No.
He had not.
He was given free reign with no questions, no restrictions...
That was not duty.
That was payment.
...
He had paid someone once and it had gotten him a girl.
It was payment and she had done her duty.
Confused, scared and overwhelmed but she had serviced him as he needed even though it killed her.
Her wants and desires were irrelevant.
It was not rape. He had paid.
He looked over to Zell.
And so had they.
Now, he had a duty.
He gritted his teeth. It was a hateful duty even as it was for the girl, Netta.
But never no mind that.
He certainly didn't.
Well, I won't just lay down and die like she did! Ortho thought, not without a little bit of pride. I commanded the ISD Predator and damn anyone who looks down on me!
As the girl's mother came too from her faint she began to stand up when Ortho Gutt backhanded her back to the floor.
The audience, foaming at the mouth though they were, reeled back in shock. Captain Gutt began to move towards the stand irregardless of what the Magistrate or Defense lawyer shouted out.
He remained standing and shouted over the throngs...
"I have something to say!
You call me scum?! An alien hater and a murderer?? You consider me lower than the dirt beneath this duracrete?!"
His indignation, however misspent, showed. "I have spent my life beating with my bare fists those that would tear this Empire down! Those that threaten our way of life, call them alien, human, criminal or saint... I CALL THEM AN ENEMY!!"
He pointed to the fallen mother, "An alien sold me the girl! Where's his trial? It was probably a human who took her so where is their trial? Don't bitch and moan about the fate of races! WE ARE ALL FUCKERS AND WE ARE ALL GUILTY! Who did this to you? You want me to be the fall guy for your own fucking guilt?? All I did was my fucking duty defending your fucking asses and I will kill anyone who tries to to say otherwise! If you call that murder, then so be it but do not think you hypocritical bastards will deserve anything from me resembling guilt!"
"What about my little Netta?" came the weak voice of the sobbing mother.
Ortho Gutt's eyes narrowed without pity and sneered, "What was she doing out alone, bitch?"
The masses started shouting back at him in derision, not even listening to his rant.
"Monster!" shouted the mother.
"Mark my words!" he spat out harshly, "When the aliens are beating down on your doors, when the Empire's enemies are at your gates and you see your comfortable life slipping away, everything familiar about you burning up, you will wish you had monsters such as I standing between you!"
The jeering started to get ugly and Ortho spit into the crowd.
"Fuck you all!"
He was pulled down from the stands and led out of the room back into a cell where everyone would soon forget about him and throw away the key.
*
As the room emptied, the show over, Grand Moff Zell (retired) smiled inwardly. So the fucking pussy did his duty after all! I won't forget this, you fat bastard!
Present Day..
The alien ships appeared as if out of thin air. Zell knew this because the INS announcer was babbling as he walked past a local transmitter.
"...it's as if they are appearing out of thin air.."
Like there's air in space... fucking moron! Zell was flanked by various guards and troopers and it was a constant circumstance he had to deal with since this entire ordeal started.
The aliens were surgically establishing space superiority using a minimum of hardware which was truly impressive given the amount of hardware Zell could have thrown back at them. And he would have if he could have; had their logistical support not collapsed amid the panic. That was what was wrong with trying to defend a ecumenopolis! The trillion or so inhabitants who invariably mucked up the works by, in their panic driven mind to save their own sorry asses, getting in the way of military traffic who was charged with moving here and there trying to put out fires.
There was a particularly viscious arial fight taking place over several sectors but unless something happened and happened fast, the fight for aerospace would soon be lost.
Not that they were not fighting on the surface but why make things more difficult than necessary and if they could control key aerospace sectors, they could work out the kinks in their resupply lines and kick these alien asses back to whereever the fuck they came from.
But their comms were down for the moment and the fleet fighting for their life did not need a Regent looking over their shoulder bothering them every five minutes for an update. He could read a sensor screen like everyone else.
How these fucking aliens are powering their wormholes at bedrock level feeding their troops in Imperial Center was annoying.
But not as annoying as the enemy's trick of turning one's own fire on themselves. When the planetary batteries powered up in their slow, controlled and confident manner, Zell expected to see large divots open up all around Coruscant space as entire enemy ship clusters were vaporized. Instead, what happened was a series of wormholes opened up in front of the weapon shots and another series of worm holes opened elsewhere redirecting those shots back at Coruscant.
Oh, the beating they took for that one.
Now, the planetary batteries were silent as the power district for the Palatial Sector was aflame.
"Remain in your homes.." came the civic service announcement blaring in several hundred dialects and languages.
Zell and his entourage stopped and he waved impatiently for the large security doors to be opened. As the gears ground against themselves, the locking mechanism finally released, the Regent felt an almost perverse sense of satisfaction.
"Sir, I must protest.." stammered a small man that came through the doors once they were opened enough.
"Shut up," ordered Zell annoyed that the Warden would be the first out of the prison.
Behind him came a crowd of former inmates and the Regent's entourage lifted their weapons in warning.
"Listen up, all of you!" Zell shouted. "You are known to have military experience and therefore I am drafting your sorry asses. Consider this a full pardon but with strings attached. Those strings involve you searching out these alien bastards attacking us and killing them dead!
Any of you fuckers have a problem with that?
No?
Then these people behind me will have your assignments!"
The stream of people began to move past Zell, confusion being transformed into hope and the old man spotted a rather fat bastard among them.
"You! Gutt! I need you here!"
Upon hearing his name uttered from Azrael Zell, Ortho knew the old bastard was up to no good. He cautiously approached his Regent wondering if he had a better deal going for him inside the prison.
Zell's next words put those thoughts to flight. "How would you like to command a ship again?"
Ortho's eyes widened as if he had just been presented with a nubile and willing virgin teenager.
"Tell me more," he rasped licking his lips.
It was amazing how consistent Ortho Gutt's luck was.
The house was quiet. The shadow of night had fallen over this part of the planet, concealing and comforting at the same time. There was something about the Caprician nights, something soothing about them. Nothing bad ever happened here, or so it seemed. Within the stronghold of the Commonwealth, the residents of the planet felt secure from all threats.
Within the house, the inhabitants shared this feeling of security. They went about their nightly tasks with no thought to danger, no heed to the darkness outside. Once, the woman stared out the window at the stars, thinking about the difficulties on other planets, other systems. But not here. She felt secure. The man never even considered the difficulties beyond. They were safe here.
After their tasks were done, the two sat down to talk and share a glass of the finest imported wine. They drank slowly, taking an hour to finish. When they did, they climbed into their bed and slowly dropped off to sleep, their feeling of security never wavering.
But all was not safe.
Outside the house, the dark figure smiled. His dark robes concealed him in the night, in the darkness. The Caprician night was, to him, also a security, but for him it was security of a different kind. It concealed him as he wrapped himself in it, it soothed his black heart, and it provided the perfect cover for what he was about to do.
For inside that house lay two children. Babies…Jedi babies. The figure’s grin widened at the thought of what he was about to do.
He moved slowly, taking his time to cover the ground between himself and the window on the ground floor. No one stirred. No one knew he was there. He was too good for that. I’m too good to be heard, too good to be felt, he thought, smiling to himself. Even the Jedi Masters can’t sense me. I’ll show her. I’m just as good as the rest.
It had been some time since his Mistress had sent him on a mission. The others had gotten to go, mostly mundane scouting missions, but they were going. But he “wasn’t ready.” Those were her words. He “wasn’t ready.” He was “too hot-headed.” “Too controlled by emotions.” But wasn’t being ruled by emotions part of what being a Sith was?
He growled softly at the thought. His anger gave him strength. Cloaking himself in the Dark Side, he let the power flow through him. Reaching out, he touched the minds of the house and suppressed them, simply giving them the thought that everything was okay, that everyone was safe. The minds remained in a state of slumber. Another chuckle. This was too easy.
This is where he would show that woman that he was worth something, that he was the best Sith. Anyone who could get into this house and murder these two babies under the nose of their parents, well, they had to be a good Sith, right?
Quietly, the window latches slid open. Again, he reached out with his mind. Security system. That would have to be disabled. Now came a dicey part. Reaching out, he slipped into the adult minds and searched, still keeping the mind suppressed so that it would not wake. There. Security code. Leaping in the window, the Sith moved through the house, quickly finding the keypad and punching in the code. Heh. Again, too easy.
He quickly slipped back into the babies’ room, moving like a shadow through the dark house. The adults were still sleeping, as were their children. Children. He smiled again. This was going to be fun.
Standing over the babies’ cribs, the shadow reached to his belt and withdrew two cylindrical objects, holding one in each hand. He’d have to do this quickly if he was going to escape. The open window was only ten feet away. Both would have to die at the same time, or else the adults would prevent him from ending the life of the second. Alright then. Weapons on, and a quick slash. That should do it.
Raising his arms, the shadow allowed himself a moment to gloat. He was the best Sith. He was the best Sith. He was…
A snap-hiss sounded behind him. Two snap-hisses. The shadow whirled and ignited both sabers, green and purple. Blade met blade, and the light of the glare showed the faces of two very angry Jedi Master parents. The Apprentice’s eyes widened as Leia Organa Solo Korban and her husband Tyscio both attacked. His defenses were quick, but he knew he wouldn’t last long.
Rolling between them, he ran for the door, but Tyscio was too fast. Gesturing with his hand, the door slammed shut and locked just before the Apprentice got there. All options were not yet out, though. Using the door as a pivot, the Apprentice flipped backwards and headed for the window. But Leia was there, blocking his path.
But…she was still weak from childbirth…
The Apprentice charged forward, his two sabers whirling. Leia fell back before the strikes, but it was only a feint. Even as the Apprentice struck, his other hand separated from his body as Tyscio’s blade cauterized the wrist. As the Sith screamed, Leia struck and removed his other arm just above the elbow. Unable to continue the fight, the Sith again attempted to get out the window, but a snap-kick from Leia stopped him cold. He fell to the ground, unconscious.
The house was quiet. The shadow of night had fallen over this part of the planet, concealing and comforting at the same time. There was something about the Caprician nights, something soothing about them. Nothing bad ever happened here, or so it seemed. Within the stronghold of the Commonwealth, the residents of the planet felt secure from all threats.
The massive clang of the grapple reverberated across the expanse of waiting area as the soldiers waited to depart for they had come home. The securing of the Elrood Sector and the cracking of the woman Petra's grip on the criminal groups had been the boon that transformed the region into both a lucrative and prosperous concern.
Their mission finally over, the Stellar Explorer had served as the transport Mathias had used to return to the Commonwealth and to Capricia. It had been a few years since he had been in-system since the Conquest and memories began to pour into his mind the moment he stepped off the shuttle and inhaled the rich air of Homeworld.
A simulacrum appeared and helped him square away his luggage and lodgings and look up an old friend...
Within the house, the inhabitants shared this feeling of security. They went about their nightly tasks with no thought to danger, no heed to the darkness outside. Once, the woman stared out the window at the stars, thinking about the difficulties on other planets, other systems. But not here. She felt secure. The man never even considered the difficulties beyond. They were safe here.
"You don't think about the Republic do you?" Leia started, interrupting Tyscio's thoughts about where he needed to purchase some diapers.
"The Republic is an idea," he answered slowly wiping dry the dishes that she handed him. Typically, a droid or simulacrum would do the work but there was something satisfying that came from doing one's own work and seeing the fruits of one's labor. "It is an idea that is embraced here in the Commonwealth."
They lazily continued their conversation over a glass of wine before falling to sleep. Leia was always the restless of the two whereas Tyscio could make a home anywhere. Home used to be where you parked your backside but lately, with marriage and children, home was whereever they were.
Life had become routine and for that he was grateful. With all that was making the news (which made one think about what was not making the news), he was glad there was one corner of the galaxy were sanity still reigned.
He smiled at the mess the kids had made during the day and vowed to clean it up in the morning before drifting off...
He was dreaming a strange dream. He was sneaking through a house though he could not quite put his finger on whose house it was.
A security pad came into view and a smile played across his lips as he realized he was sneaking around in his own house.
His hand went up and danced across the pad as the password deactivated the warning system. As he moved through the home he noticed the empty wine glasses in the living room that he and Leia had shared not too long ago and his sleeping form frowned.
Something seemed odd...
The confusion was pushed aside though as he seemed to move into the baby room and he saw his children lying peacefully. He would have to do this quickly...
Tyscio's eyes snapped open and before he could bolt upright in panic, a palm rested across his chest and he noticed Leia rising motioning him to keep quiet.
He grabbed his lightsaber and as they both moved quietly towards the baby's room, he saw the door open and a figure standing above their respective cribs with two lightsaber hilts in each hand.
The bastard was going to take them both out!
They moved as if they were two halves of a whole and as the shadow's arms were raised they ignited their sabers drawing the intruder's attention.
Perhaps in panic to save his skin, the intruder dived between them putting the Korban's between the intruder and their children which is what they wanted. The surprise and simple attacking move had caused the intruder to remove himself from endangering the babies but Tyscio was not going to let him get away quite that easy.
With a gesture, the door closed but the intruder simply used it to propel himself towards an open window.
Leia was blocking his patch as Tyscio adjusted his attack and closed the trap.
*
Leia and Tyscio stared at the unconscious man. Tyscio was both angry and confused.
"Who the hell is this?" he demanded as if Leia would have the answers but she simply sat down, the exertion having taken it's toll.
"My guess would be a Sith," she remarked. "I don't know all their names as their ranks fill out and thin at whim."
Tyscio half-listened as he called Commonwealth Security and went about securing the prisoner.
A chime at the door and Tyscio gave Leia a surprised look. Security was unusually quick this evening but when the door opened a rather large and gruff-looking older man stood in the doorway, holding the galaxy's largest blaster over his shoulder with one hand and two squeek-toys in another.
"Mathias?" Tyscio asked dumbly.
"Sharp as ever, Corpsman," the man barked out and let himself into the home only see the overturned furniture, books and general knicknacks thrown about in the scuffle.
His eyes stopped on a man dressed in black missing two hands.
"Did I come at a bad time?" he asked dryly and Leia smiled though there was steel burning in her eyes.
"This man tried to off Jacen and Jaina while we slept." Tyscio filled in by way of explanation.
"Thank the Force, Tyscio doesn't pick up after the kids," Leia remarked. "He stepped on a toy which woke me."
Tyscio stared at his wife. "Which one?"
"The one with the frills. Jaina's, I think.." his wife answered absently.
"Damn!" Tyscio swore.
"What is it?" Mathias asked gratefully taking a drink being offered.
"It was an expensive toy," the Caprician grumbled.
"The kids?" The soldier asked.
"Slept through the whole thing. Clannus Prime, Mathias, what the hell do Sith want with us?"
"Two force users, one a Master and of the Skywalker clan? What do you think they want?" Leia answered bitterly, gesturing towards the baby room.
"But... why now?" the Caprician asked stubbornly. "Surely they had a better chance when you were pregnant..."
"You talk as if the Sith are some organized group. They are fractured and self serving, self centered and this ...this.... Sith is probably some hotheaded, ambitious fool who someone used."
"Who?" Mathias and Tyscio asked a the same time.
"You'll have to ask him.." Leia gestured at the unconscious intruder.
"I intend too..." Tyscio replied, a rare instance of malice creeping into his voice.
Commonwealth Security arrived and after a brief consultation, a drugged Sith with no arms was taken to a maximum security center where Tyscio would indeed have his chance at answers.
Leia disposed of the Sith's sabers and went back to sleep after having moved the children to her own room. Her eyes, however, remained open as she watched her babies sleeping form.
This night, their sense of security was shaken by a single intruder.
Lupercus Darksword walked the Royal Chambers of Relephon with grim determination. His expression was not grim because of what he was about to do but, rather, because of the reason why he had to do it. It was no secret he enjoyed the inflicting of pain on others but everything was towards an end. Usually.
The inflicting of pain was work and for a hedonist like Lupercus, work would only keep his interest if it added to whatever goal was being pursued at the time. But what was his pursuit this time?
The Chambers opened into a grand hall which lead to a veranda overlooking a valley where the morning sunlight was breaking through clouds to shine down upon.
The closer he got to the veranda, the more distinct sounds of moaning could be heard as if carried upon the winds to his ears like sweet music.
And it was sweet music.
He stopped just short of the edge savoring the smells and sounds.
Admiral Pitta marched with a cadre of soldiers carrying a pitifully frail Lucian D'alaetos stripped bare for all to gaze upon with contempt.
The former royalty of Relephon's boyish face was clouded with both fear and confusion as he was dragged forward.
"Ah... Lucian," Lupercus grandly encouraged, "Regale me again with tales of your prowess with that handy arrogant confidence of yours."
A few servants came out holding a chair for Lord Lupercus to rest his royal backside on along with a small table with all the acrutriments for beverages.
"Pour one for my good Admiral Pitta," the dark lord ordered the servants not even glancing at them. The servants obeyed at once, never doubting to whom the Hapan in Imperial clothing was directing his orders.
"My lord," Pitta started, "I am on duty.."
"We are not inside the Empire, Admiral but on a field excursion. A vacation, if you will. Do indulge me."
The Admiral knew better than to refuse and so nodded his acceptance (if not his thanks) and took the offered beverage taking care not to drink before his Lord. And it was just as well for as Lupercus raised the cup to his lips, he frowned throwing an angry glare at the servitor.
"Execute him!" he ordered and the soldiers needed no extra prompting. Before the servant could open his mouth in protest he had been shot down. Another group of servants appeared quickly taking the body and beverage articles from Pitta and Darksword.
"Nice try, Lucian, but your money is worthless against the power of the Force."
"Your religion has not helped you conjure up the Hapan throne, Lupercus..." whispered the soft man, his body shaking in the cool morning wind.
"Ahh, how little you know us Darkswords, D'alaetos. And how little my brother knows me." He took a sip of a rather warm tasting beverage replacing the tainted cup that required a servitor's execution. At Lupercus' partaking of the beverage, his Admiral followed suit.
"You failed to dislodge the Queen Mother in your failed attempt ..." Lucian began to shiver uncontrollably as the wind picked up, cutting off his tirade that was anything but fear-inspiring. Admiral Pitta briefly wondered how the soldiers who accompanied them thought of this tiny man who once held the power of life and death over his minions? He wondered how the citizens of his recently conquered Hapan Regency thought of this now insignificant man?
"Always the little dogs fight for the scraps while we Darkswords are lead around by our pricks." Lupercus jested in a rather amuse fashion. Pitta did not know whether to laugh at the self-effacing comment or not for who knew how Lupercus would interpret such laughter. He decided to keep his face neutral which, oddly enough, pleased the Dark Lord.
"You see, on the surface, Hapes, their allies the Commonwealth, the Empire and the galaxy at large are walking around with their buttholes puckered tight wondering where I will go next. That I came to the Hapes Regency fuels speculation and your own foolish desires that I might ally myself with you in your stupid rebellion against the Consortium and against the Queen Mother. My crushing utterly of your foolish Regency has suddenly dislodged speculation and they wonder has Lupercus some overt plan or is this another one of his whims? Perhaps I destroyed you to sleep with your sisters? Perhaps I just did not like the way you looked?"
He leaned in closer to the captive other, "Do know, Lucian, that I have and I do not."
The Dark Lord idly played with the armchair of his seat as he mused, "Ahh.. your sisters. Such flames of anger, arrogance ...such fear and finally, humilation against a power such as mine.... Tell me, Lucian, whatever did you think about putting them up as a Queen Mother? They are vipers, the lot of them!"
He laughed as his words sank into the other. "I admit to allowing the carnal flesh lead me to where I desire and, believe me, my dear brother is no different. You know we've had several Queen Mothers and the reason for that is my brother's insufferable prick! The Queen Mother changes with each chosen wife and I, as a good son of Hapes, felt it my duty to point out in rather strong terms that his previous choices for Queen Mother were, in fact, nothing short of prostituting the position out. Now, his latest wife seems capable and I have no quarrel with her."
"Then why did you come to Relephon!" the naked man demanded through chattering teeth.
"My good fellow, Lucian, if you had a spat with the present Queen Mother, how could I begrudge your grudge against the chosen woman to lead the Consortium? But you did not want that did you? In fact, you called for...what was it? ahh. yes! A 'Unified Hapes Consortium'. Under what family rule? What was it you said? What did you call yourself? Admiral?"
Admiral Pitta turned to a datapad and called up the pertinent information quoting, "It is for that reason that I, Crown Prince Lucian D'alaetos, have dispatched a series of political envoys throughout the cluster..."
"That's enough, Admiral," Lupercus cut him off darkly. "My good, Lucian. You decided to wage war with the Darksword family! While my brother misguidedly tried to protect your non-attacks against the Ta-Chume, I prepared for my assault on your family in classic Hapan tradition!
Why your Hapan Regency will not mourn you, my dear Lucian is because as you said...'Relephon respects and honors the tradition of the Hapes Consortium'!"
The Dark Lord leaned back in his chair and had a good long laugh as the former Relephon Nobleman shivered.
"Now? What to do with you, my dear Lucian?"
"My people will pay for my return.." the man whispered through chattering teeth, vowing to avenge this humiliation when he regained his freedom and power.
Lupercus, however, raised an inquisitive eyebrow. He turned to his Admiral Pitta, "People? My good man, Admiral Pitta, do you have an idea what he is talking about?"
The Admiral, for his part, knew what was coming but played his part in his Lord's farce. "My Lord, I believe he means his former supporters."
Lupercus Darksword turned an eye to Lucian, "Your people? Your former supporters? Is this what you mean?"
"You couldn't have turned everyone, Lupercus. There are some who remember loyalty and still would entrust their fealty to me!" D'alaetos hissed back.
Lupercus motioned for the guards to bring "dear old Lucian" to the edge of the veranda overlooking the valley.
Lucian heard the wind moan louder the nearer to the edge he got and as his eyes peered over, Lupercus' voice resounded over his shocked expression. "Ask any of your supporters, dear Lucian, if they would still entrust their fealty towards you?"
In the valley below, hundreds... possibly thousands ..of people were impaled on sharp, upright poles jutting from the ground. Several were still alive as sounds of moaning and of unendurable pain escaped their throats.
"Look over there, Lucian! Look!" Lupercus had risen from his chair to overlook the valley with the former nobleman and pointed, "There is your family plot... Your inlaws... your sisters! Their children! All one big happy conspiracy!"
It was a sight that crushed the self-pronounced Crown Prince of Relephon's sanity into pulp.
"You are the last.." Lupercus' voice sudden took on an ominous tone and Lucian D'alaetos wet himself as he saw a rather low table brought out towards the edge of the balcony.
"N..NN.. No!" he started to shout but the soldiers held him tight.
"Bring him," ordered the Dark Lord of the Sith and the soldiers picked up the captive laying him face down on the table, arms and legs spread wide.
An upside-down cross with a sharp point was brought out, the cold, hard tip coming to rest against his anus.
"Lu...Lup.. Lupercus... I.. I'll give you ... anything.." the man whimpered, shivering so uncontrollably that the soldiers braced down harder against his limbs.
A man came down the steps from the Hall to the veranda holding a rather large wooden mallet and took position behind the upside down cross making preparatory swings to ensure a good hit.
"The war between our families ends now, dear Lucian." Lupercus stated flatly and nodded to the servant with the mallet.
The man's screams echoed far out into the valley with each swing of the mallet driving the spike deeper into the man's cavity.
When the final swing left the former nobleman's feet resting on the beam of the upside-down cross, Lupercus motioned the cross to be brought upright. The man's moaning grew to a high pitched scream as gravity took it's hold. The short end of the cross was slid into a hole in the ground and the now-impaled Lucian D'alaetos was swung outward to face his family, friends and supporters.
"House D'alaetos is no more," Lupercus whispered and motioned for his Admiral and soldiers to follow him back into the Hall.
"Leave him for the birds.."
*
Present Day
The Commonwealth Fleet was arrayed inside the Transitory Mists but facing where? Relephon and D'alaetos' former Hapan Regency was inside the Mists which meant that Lupercus and his fleet had already crossed through into D'alaetos' former territory. His strikes were quick and complete shattering whatever forces Relephon's "Crown Prince" had gathered together to make his own bid for the Hapan Throne.
Therefore, it stood to reason that the Commonwealth Fleet, inside the Mists, stood between the Consortium and the rest of the Commonwealth.
It was an interesting position. One that recognized Hapan's authority to handle it's own internal matters but one that also reinforced the idea that Hapes was a valued member of the Commonwealth and they would not stand idly by while some fool of a leader launched an attack on Hapes.
Lupercus had to admit that even the Commonwealth's fleet position was a diplomatic statement in and of itself. Therefore, he had to make a statement of his own as his own advance fleet was arrayed against the Transitory Mists. He could have simply gone straight to Hapes but that would have left the Commonwealth Fleet behind his position.
"We've stopped at the designated coordinates," Admiral Pitta declared, nervous at the cloudy mists before him and his fleet.
"Do not worry, Admiral. They will not shoot unless fired upon and we have no intention of firing unless they provoke us. Now, open a transmission."
"Comm open, Lord!"
"To the Commonwealth Commander hiding in the Transitory Mists. I require an escort to Hapes to present to the Ta-Chume six rebellous worlds that fell under the former control of the usurper, Lucian D'alaetos."
Admiral Pitta turned to the Dark Lord in surprise. He had fully expected the fight to be a bloody mess but Lupercus was nothing if not unpredictable.
The prisoner lay on the hard bench he was provided, staring at the ceiling. He was a Sith; this prison should have been no problem for him. And yet he was stuck. There were no loose items in the room. It seemed as if his cell had been formed from one single block of steel. Not even any bolts he could remove and use as weapons. It was as if this cell had specifically been created to hold Sith like him.
But of course they would go through this trouble, wouldn’t they? He was the best Sith, after all. They all recognized it. He was very dangerous. It was a fluke that those Jedi had gotten the better of him. He was surprised, after all. They would never have been able to do that under normal conditions. Best Sith, best Sith, best Sith… His mind kept repeating the phrase, as if trying to tell him something. That’s right, he thought consciously. I am the best Sith.
These imbeciles here on Capricia had at least been smart enough to let his arms remain stubs. Had they attached artificial limbs, there would be nothing that could hold him in this cell. As it was, he was having a bit of trouble focusing the Force. Before, his hands had been the focal point of all his powers; now that they were gone, his attempts to unlock the cell door had been less than successful. It never occurred to him that he might just not be good enough.
For now, he contented himself with being patient. Sinking into a meditative state, he reached out with his mind and found his Mistress, somewhere between planets. He tried contacting her, but her mind was closed to him. Well, she’ll come around, he thought. I am, after all, the best Sith.
Unidentified Sith Shuttle En route from Katarr to Korriban
“It is just you and your opponent. No one else exists, the universe and all that is in it is but a dream. Focus on your opponent. Feel his mind, watch his steps. Feel where his blade is. Now strike, quickly.”
The lightsaber blades swept forward in a flurry of blows, both opponents attacking rather than defending. Each had their own form, their own style. It was quite a bout to watch; neither could score a hit on the other. Both were dramatic in their fighting, as if they were performing for an audience. Their audience was one, and she was a most critical audience. The slightest mistake could draw her ire, and neither Apprentice wanted to do that.
Darth Skygge watched the two battle both with her eyes and through the Force. She saw them moving, saw the blades slashing and parrying, felt the two attempting to deceive or slow the other through the Force. They were getting good. It might be that soon the ranks of the Knights would begin to be filled. They would still be junior to her, but the Sith Order’s continued survival would be ensured.
It was difficult, training so many Apprentices on her own. All her strength had been put into breaking down what they had been taught, especially those who had begun to follow the teachings of Lupercus and Ithron. Vance’s teachings were much like her own, but even those had to be broken down. Then she had to build them back up, re-teaching them in the way she would have them taught. Skygge emphasized teamwork, unity amongst the Sith. No more lethal struggles for power. No more full surrender to the Darkness. Dark and Light were but phrases used to determine the nature of the person using the Force, not necessarily certain abilities. Force Lightning was no darker in and of itself than was Force Healing, and Force Healing was no lighter than Force Lightning. It depended upon the one who perpetrated the act.
Of course, there were two sides of the Force. Drawing on only the Light Side was the weakness of the Jedi, for they could not attain the power of the Darkness. But drawing on only the Dark Side was just as much a weakness, for then the Sith only used half of the available power. To draw on both, and to use them for one’s own purposes, and those of the Sith – that was what Skygge taught.
Suddenly, the male apprentice ducked as his opponent’s blade swept over him. As he ducked, he slammed his training saber’s point deep into the female human’s stomach. She gasped as the blade burned her; nevertheless she kept her wits and swept her saber in a backhand spin, slicing through her opponent’s neck even as he gloated.
Skygge smiled. “A double kill. How interesting. Elana, you did well. You kept your wits about you and ended your opponent, even at the cost of your own death. Telarni, you did well to get the kill. However, I believe you have been tainted by some stories of Sith like Darth Maul, who gloated over his victory over Qui-Gon Jinn. Qui-Gon was unable to draw on the Force to end his opponent; he was not strong enough. Your opponent may not be that weak.
“It is the Jedi way to sacrifice oneself for others. Death for them is simply a transition into the Force. I do not believe that is the way of those we face now. From what I saw on Xa Fel, our enemies will throw themselves on our blades to get a killing stroke. Always remember –“
She cut off as a presence touched her mind. She instantly closed down, hiding her position. After a moment, she said, “What news do we have of Nubett?”
Elana, holding her stomach and using the Force to heal the burns, both inside and out, said, “Didn’t we leave him on Katarr? He was supposed to work on bringing his emotions under control, right?”
Skygge nodded. “Then what in the blazes is he doing on Capricia…oh no.”
“Capricia?” asked Telarni. “Isn’t that…”
“Yes,” Skygge replied. “It is. He may have just made life very, very difficult for us. We need a course change. We’re going to Capricia.”
The shuttle shook as enemy fighters streaked by being chased by TIE Interceptors. The attackers were making bolder moves trying to penetrate defended areas sector by sector by sending their strike fighters and evaluating responses. At least, according to the Imperial High Command Combat Analysts. Whether their conclusions were true or not was anybody's guess and, as a passenger on an affected transport, Ortho Gutt could have cared less.
A transport nearby broke apart in multiple explosions causing the pilots of Ortho's shuttle to jig back and forth increasing speed.
Captain Gutt's forehead began to sweat and the rotund man wondered if this would be his last ride.
The pilot's efforts paid off as the shuttle soon entered the defensive sphere of the ISD Predator stationed in a holding pattern in the sector which served to protect the various numbers of smaller support ships and strike craft.
Regent Zell had approved of a "zone defense" structure around Imperial Center aimed at creating critical area suppression zones to deny the enemy footholds.
The strategy had slowed the enemy advance but whether it was working or not was unknown since the Imperial High Command did not really know the full extent of the resources the attackers could bring to bear. The conservative response to the attack, however, was the best card the Imperials could play given Coruscant's very finite supplies.
There was no need for panic as yet but the enemy was not slowing it's penetrating attacks both in space, in aerospace and on the ground and it was disconcerting.
The ISD hanger was a mess as it's compliment of fighters had been moved to make way for Ortho Gutt's arrival but the Captain did not seem to notice the inconvenience. The shuttle was hastily being moved so that the deck could return to the business of waging war and Ortho Gutt was escorted to the bridge.
"Tactical!" he shouted as soon as he stepped onto the catwalk overlooking the various bridge stations but the Commander of the Bridge was too busy giving orders directing the Predator's defensive fire to respond.
Incensed at being ignored, Ortho walked over and punched in his command code calling up the display that showed him not only the status of the sector his ship was protecting but the overall status of the attack.
His eyes widened in surprise as entire gray areas of space went red indicating attacker-won sectors and other areas of gray popping up indicating a successful defense of the Imperial Fleet. The changing of the scheme of gray to red and back created a flickering effect with the hologram impressing on Captain Gutt the amount of lives being snuffed out in this battle.
The Commander looked up as his coordinating computer suddenly went offline denying him command functions rerouting the combat station details to Ortho's location.
"Raise position Z plus thirty degrees and prepare to jump to lightspeed!" Ortho had ordered and the engine crew jumped to relay the new commands.
"What are you doing?" shouted the Commander in charge and as he rushed over to Ortho, his eyes widened, "You!?? The Regent sent you!?"
Ortho Gutt heard the contempt in the man's voice and drew himself up to his full height which was not all that impressive.
"That is correct, Commander!" Ortho barked back and continued to bully on ahead, "Apparently, your weak defense of this sector leaves much to be desired."
The Commander did not know whether to be outraged that Ortho Gutt had been given command or that his new Captain called into question his strategy of defense that had, so far, kept the enemy from encroaching too firmly into their designated sector.
"Learned all that from your shuttle trip?" the Commander grounded out sarcastically but a sudden shift of the ship stopped further comment.
"Captain, support fleet is demanding to know our intentions. They are being uncovered.." came a voice from the Comm Station.
"Emperor's Black Bones!" the Commander whispered. "We are out of position! They are sitting nerfs!"
The Predator had suddenly shifted out of the protection formation leaving several smaller strike vessels without the protection of the ISD's heavy batteries but Ortho waved the Comm Officer away.
"They take orders from us, we do not take orders from them!" Captain Gutt relayed. "Order them to maintain defensive stations!"
"Without our guns?!" the Commander shouted. "They'll be cut to ribbons!"
As if to underline the Commander's worries, the enemy probes suddenly increased in intensity as if they sensed a changing situation in their sector and were preparing to take advantage of the situation.
Several gray adjacent sectors on the tactical map went red and the support ship's calls to the Predator became frantic. The position of the ISD did not allow for any of her port or starboard guns to track incoming enemy vectors and the enemy followed the opening with larger gunships to capitalize on their fighter's penetration.
In less time than it took Ortho to walk across the catwalk the sector his ISD was to protect went from grey to red and all the blood drained from Ortho's face.
It was happening too fast!
"Jump!" he shouted. "Get us out of here or we are all dead!"
The Commander shouted "NO!" but the ship's Captain was closer to the helm station and when the bridge station signaled the ship's readiness for light speed, they carried out Ortho's order.
The trip was short-lived for their position took them more in-system rather than out and the mass shadow of the next planet closer to the sun pulled the Predator out of hyperspace.
"You cowardly fool!" shouted the Commander as Station Leaders took advantage of the reprieve to initiate emergency damage control procedures which were easier to carry out when no one was shooting at you.
"You will turn us around or I will have you shot for treason right now!"
Ortho's face dripped sweat and his lip quivered in fear.
"Too..fast.." he whispered as if in a daze.
Coruscant
"That fat bastard!" shouted Zell as the indicator showed that the Imperator he had sent Gutt too jumped out leaving the ships they were supposed to be protecting vulnerable to the enemy onslaught. The sector turned red and his eyes narrowed as each of the smaller Imperial warships began to blink out of existence as they were blown to bits.
Gomorran Kay looked at the prisoner with interest. He stood before the man lowering himself to gaze into the other's eyes but found them emtpy.
Or, rather, found those of his simulacrum to be empty and for good reason. They had not performed the pattern scan to upload into the simulacrum that which would have given them a near perfect personality of the prisoner without the Sith's force ability mucking up the process. But how to get a scan from a Sith, even a fool of one, was the question.
There were creatures that could inhibit a force-user's connection to the Force but they were not exactly conveniently within arm's reach. Calls had gone out and appointments were made but even with all their technological wonders, things (as always) still took time.
"I could hold him down, drive stakes into his limbs and keep his head still, " Leia offered much to Gomorran's amusement and Tyscio's surprise. Family was sacroscant on Capricia from noble to minor Houses and on up to the old Clans. To violate a family member was to violate the entire House and/or community.
"He's not that powerful," the Jedi Master added.
"He swiped the security codes from my mind," Tyscio pointed out but Leia shook her head.
"You were asleep and you confused the warnings of the Force with anxiety from a dream. But, even then, Jedi are not omniscient and neither are the Sith."
Gomorran shook his head, "I still do not know what a Sith is. What makes them so special besides twirling a lightsaber and using the Force? I mean, are they stupid enough to think that a self-absorbed agenda is the way to true happiness or power or whatever?"
Leia looked at the Council Leader and nodded, "Yes, Gomorran. They are."
When the Caprician looked at her in exasperation she clarified, "We have powers, both the Jedi and the Sith, that no one else has. Therefore, we know that we are in a class all our own. The main difference between both the Jedi and the Sith is the way we feel we must use our powers. The Jedi feel that their powers are a responsibility and with that responsibility comes the burden. Burden to do the right thing. Promote the right thing. Usually, that means supporting a government that is dedicated to doing the right thing. Even we do not always get it right and sometimes those governments that we do support fail. There are some that feel we should organize the Jedi into a nation, into an Order and pick one government over another but even that sort of decision is dangerous and takes careful consideration and meditation. We are not gods.
The Sith think they are. They feel rather than to serve those beings who do not have the same Force potential across the galaxy, that those beings should be made to serve them. That the power of the Force somehow makes them special, chosen to be gods among mortals." Leia sighed, "So the Jedi spend most of their time trying to undo the damage done by the Sith or reign in their excesses."
"But you will never ultimately defeat them," Gomorran concluded.
"No. Nor they us. It is a statistical impossibility."
"Your brother was once called the last Jedi."
"At the time, he was. But the Force was strong with me as well, even at that time. The Force was strong with alot of people across this galaxy and it still is. How they chose to live with this power and their potential will determine if they will follow in the footsteps of the Jedi purpose or the Sith. These people may not use the name 'Jedi' or they may preface that name with something else to distinguish themselves apart but whatever they call themselves, the key is their chosen path in how they will live their lives with this power. If they try to investigate and search for ways to mold this power and enhance what they can do with it, the main question will always be: to what end?"
"What good is ability without purpose?" Tyscio chimed in and the Capricians nodded. The duality of ability and purpose was central to Capricia ideology.
"Point," Gomorran conceded. "But this attack...it is not necessarily on the Commonwealth Proper but on the Caprician family of Korban. Now, I can understand that as a public figure that has helped to bring down the Empire once and fought against countless Sith, I can see why there would be an attack against you personally, but," he paused, "Why now? You've been with us for several years so why now, all of a sudden, are you a target?"
Leantre Vio, former Regent of Capricia, walked into the room, "Lupercus Darksword seems to have tightened his grip on Relephon." He looked at the hologram of the Sith, "So is this the attacker?"
"That's him," Tyscio answered and the old man grunted.
"We could just tranquilize him and burn the body and go back to our business," Leantre pointed out.
"That's a bit cold hearted," Gomorran remarked but the old man shrugged.
"When you have lived as long as I have, you know when fools can be reasoned with and when they can't. Anything else is just a waste of your time."
"Since when are you a cynic, Leantre," Tyscio chided and the old man turned his angry eyes at the younger man. "Since Caprician babies are in danger of being murdered in their sleep!"
The old man stepped closer to Tyscio, "In fact, I am wondering why you are not clawing at the walls to boil this man's skin off. He tried to kill your children!"
Tyscio looked at the old man and stated seriously, "I am angry but I am not a murdering, psychopathic son of a bitch, Sir."
Leantre's stern face stared at Tyscio for a second before breaking out into a grin.
"Point taken, son. Point taken." He turned to the simulacrum. "So what do we do with him? With Lupercus on Relephon, is this the work of an idiot or some fringe group of Sith or is this a part of a greater plan, towards a larger purpose?"
"What do you mean?" Gomorran asked the old man but it was Leia who answered. "Lupercus may be taking a page from Simon Kaine. Kaine initiated or allowed Lupercus and his Sith to attack the Jedi Temple on Naboo. It was an attack strong enough to capture our attention but weak enough that Lupercus could not actually take the planet."
Gomorran nodded slowly. "We are not exactly cookie-cutting Jedi like the Confederation may or may not be doing but we've got what? You, Leia? Tyscio?... Scipio and I are untrained and would only get in the way... Natalya Vinda is coming along but let's face it, We are behind even the League of Nations when it comes to force-users and alot of that is because we have not outlined clearly what the status of a force user or any force user groups may be found within our political boundaries. We'd have to rely on the simulacrums but even that is unprecendented and Hespante would have an earful to say on the subject. What I am saying is whatever we have is not much. So perhaps this attack is aimed at you, the most powerful Jedi Master within the Commonwealth right now to keep you distracted from using your Force-driven intuition to thwart his plans?"
"That actually makes alot of sense," Tyscio admitted.
"If we were talking about Simon Kaine, I would agree," Leia added. "But the Lupercus I know does not plan that intricately. Sure, Kaine may have rubbed off on him but Lupercus' personality does not leave much room for the patience required to await the pay benefit of a plan later. He wants his satisfaction now. Whether or not Lupercus is behind this move, I do not think it is part of a greater goal. It may be, if this move was initiated by him, he is simply trying to get rid of an alcolyte and if the alcolyte should actually succeed, so much the better."
"There is something else to consider," Tyscio said slowly and the group turned to him.
"The kids are kin to the Skywalker Clan. That means Leia, that means Luke Skywalker... that means Anakin Skywalker."
Darth Vader
"The children's force adeptness has yet to be determined, Tyscio," Leia reminded but Tyscio waved that away.
"I am not talking about their power, which may or may not be considerable given their lineage, but Anakin Skywalker was supposed to be this Chosen One of prophecy to bring balance to the Force."
"He did," Leia murmured, "He destroyed the Jedi!"
Tyscio nodded. "Yes, some see the equalizing numerically of Jedi and Sith as this balance. But not every Sith or Jedi buys that. Perhaps Anakin is bringing balance to the Force by means of his lineage? Perhaps some see importance not in Anakin himself but in his family line with regards to prophecy?"
Gomorran rubbed his forehead. "So, you are telling me that if your wife had married someone else, say Han Solo for example, and had children, the Sith and everything evil would have simply hunted her and her family down but because she married you instead, now there's a Caprician element not formerly in the equation and so, the longer you are here, the more we will be dealing with the Sith and everything evil?"
Tyscio gave his best innocent look, "Hey, blame my irresistable Caprician charm!"
Leia rolled her eyes and Tyscio chuckled lightly, "Seriously, though. It stands to reason that this fool," pointing to the simulacrum, "did not dress himself or train himself. He represents someone and sooner or later they will come calling. We have technologies that forcer users may not have faced before but that does not mean we should underestimate them. This Sith attacker may be a fool but that does not mean he could not get into my home and in the room of our children."
Leia nodded, "Someone will come for him whether he talks to us or not."
"What makes you say that?" Leantre asked curiously.
"Paranoia. They will either come to break him out or to finish him off but either way, they will come. Usually, it is the Jedi that seek them out and fish them out from whatever rock they hide under but nowadays, with Sith running around the galaxy like Lupercus, they have a greater sense of self-confidence."
Gomorran nodded firmly, "Then perhaps... they'll make a mistake and that is when we'll have them."
Tyscio looked at the Council Leader, "I've faced off with a Sith Master called Recon Klain once. He nearly killed me."
Leia smirked, "Think of how much more you've learned since then.."
Tyscio raised his eyebrows, "Obviously not enough to keep myself out of the frying pan and into the fire!"
And the Sith prisoner, oblivious to the discussions surrounding his incarceration went from "prisoner" to "bait".
