Crimson Tides: Acquiescence




His domain,‭ ‬established.

His reign,‭ ‬secure.‭

His life,‭ ‬his destiny,‭ ‬his fate...

The Dark Lord Silk surveyed his kingdom and all that he saw,‭ ‬the vastness of eternity,‭ ‬was his own.‭

From the towering precipice of his temple,‭ ‬once home of the crapulous Sith,‭ ‬to the bridge of his Crimson Emperor,‭ ‬the starship with which he would spread his will across the galaxy,‭ ‬to even the mystical depths of the Force,‭ ‬the dark aspects his to manipulate,‭ ‬all that he surveyed belonged to him and to him alone.‭ ‬Just as Xa Fel had inured him,‭ ‬so too would the galaxy learn.‭ ‬Unlike his former student,‭ ‬Dacian Palestar,‭ ‬however‭; ‬his would not be a meteoric rise to dominance.‭ ‬Long ago he had learned his own limitations and those of the galaxy in which he lived,‭ ‬a lesson taught and reinforced by the Lord Maim.‭ ‬He had no ambition to be percieved as a voluptuary.‭

“My lord,‭” ‬spoke Noctournal,‭ ‬highest ranking member of the Crimson Brotherhood.‭ “‬I was summoned.‭”

The man,‭ ‬draped in the ubiquitous cloak of the Royal Guard,‭ ‬knelt before his lord genuflect in holographic presence.‭ ‬From the planet below,‭ ‬from the temple of the Unspoken,‭ ‬his faithful servant projected his image to the gargantuan Emperor.‭ ‬On the bridge of his vessel and from upon his throne of gothic masonry the Lord Silk cast his gaze toward the grainy blue-gray image.‭ ‬At his side,‭ ‬with a palm resting upon the creatures massive skull,‭ ‬a nightmarish being watched the hologram attentively.‭

“A task awaits you,‭ ‬brother.‭”

Silk,‭ ‬turning his onyx eyes toward the creature at his side,‭ ‬stated simply.‭ “‬I require...‭ ‬fresh meat.‭”

At that he chuckled.‭ ‬Noctournal remained silent and unmoving.‭

“You will venture in to the galaxy.‭ ‬You will find suitable resources and you will bring them to me.‭ ‬Xoverus will accompany you.‭ ‬Take whatever assets you deem nessessary.‭”

“Yes,‭ ‬my Lord.‭” ‬Noctournal nodded,‭ ‬the masked visage bobbing.‭ “‬Of these resources...‭ ‬for what shall I look‭?”

For a moment Silk said nothing,‭ ‬perhaps contemplating the queery or perhaps considering its impertenance.‭ ‬When he answered,‭ ‬he said simply,‭ “‬The Force will guide you.‭”




Noctournal worked the control yoke of the star skiff expertly.‭

“We are making our decent now,‭” ‬he informed his passengers.‭ “‬The atmosphere is not ideal.‭ ‬Brace yourselves.‭”

Seated behind him,‭ ‬strapping themselves in to their crash webbing,‭ ‬sat a quartet of beings.‭ ‬These he had personally selected,‭ ‬with the exception of the priest Xoverus,‭ ‬to aid in accomplishing the chore that had been placed before them.‭ ‬Noctournal,‭ ‬senior among them,‭ ‬was clearly in command of this mission though the varied looks of those arranged behind him gave the distinct impression that order,‭ ‬that rank,‭ ‬was somehow obselete here.‭

A student of Mother Crow,‭ ‬now dubbed the Crone by Lord Silk,‭ ‬the young force-witch Morticia showed no fear in the face of the brutal turbulence which buffeted the ship.‭ ‬Her face was painted in streaks of black‭; ‬a stark contrast to her pale,‭ ‬porceline features.‭ ‬Across her lap was laid a staff of unknown use and of menacing appearance.‭ ‬And like her sisters she wore a heavy fabric cloak adorned with feathers,‭ ‬beads and bits of bone.‭ ‬Despite the unapproachable nature of her garb it remained obvious that beneath the trappings was a beautiful,‭ ‬if evil,‭ ‬young woman.‭

Aside the girl was seated Xoverus,‭ ‬a man who among the forces of Lord Silks army needed no introduction.‭ ‬The ominous presence,‭ ‬it's icy touch radiating ambilivilance to all,‭ ‬obvious in his frozen gaze.‭ ‬He,‭ ‬like the rest,‭ ‬basks in silence speaking only when it suits the purpose of his God,‭ ‬the Unspoken.‭ ‬The days of Fangol are long behind him but the effect that sub-zero planetoid has had on him remains ever present.‭

The final pair,‭ ‬one working the controls of the co-pilots position while the other stands deactivated and bolted to a wall,‭ ‬perhaps less pivotal in their appointment to this group but potent in their application still,‭ ‬are comprised of a mid-ranking member of the Brotherhood and a heavily modified IG-100‭ ‬android.‭ ‬The latter,‭ ‬its ocular receptors dark,‭ ‬awaiting activation.

A voice crackled over the ships short wave tranciever.‭

“Attention unidentified vessle,‭ ‬this is port control.‭ ‬Idenitify yourself.‭”

His attention focused on steering the nimble craft through the heavy ion storm,‭ ‬Noctournal gestured with a nod to his co-pilot.‭ “‬Activate the IFF transponder.‭ ‬No verbal contact is authorized.‭”

With a nod,‭ ‬the crimson-clad solider complied.‭

“And kill the speakers,‭” ‬added Noctournal.

The planet below,‭ ‬a back-water colony loosely affiliated with the Commonwealth,‭ ‬was home to a number of colonists...‭ ‬technicians,‭ ‬engineers and their families attempting to establish a foothold on this unwelcoming,‭ ‬barely habitable world on the fringe of Commonwealth space,‭ ‬had until recently been known only by its alpha-numeric designation‭; ‬M1-A35.‭ ‬In the years since their arrival however the colonists had taken to calling it‭ “‬Gome Prime‭” ‬and the name had stuck.‭ ‬It's primary,‭ ‬now known formally as‭ “‬Gome One‭” ‬was a dull blue star nearing the end of its life cycle.‭ ‬Between the radiation that saturated the planet,‭ ‬the lack of atmosphere and its remote location one could wonder why the colonists had chosen this forsaken place to try an eke out a living.‭ ‬A geohraphical survey quickly put to rest any doubts.‭ ‬Gome Prime,‭ ‬along with the rest of the planets in its system,‭ ‬were rich in minerals.‭ ‬An old star system by galactic standards,‭ ‬their blue star had pumped trillions upon trillions of credits worth of assets in to the system.‭ ‬And though it had long been considered to remote and hostile for mining operations this hardy bunch of pioneers hoped to one day terraform Gome Prime,‭ ‬to convert it to a habitable base of operations and bring in contracts from the galaxies bigger corporations.‭

The Reaver incursion had changed all that.‭

Priorities changed,‭ ‬attention refocused.‭ ‬Called home due the threat of war,‭ ‬the colonists had opted instead to remain on their little planet,‭ ‬had opted to persue their dream of colonization,‭ ‬of habitability.‭ ‬The leaders of the Commonwealth,‭ ‬politicians and commanders,‭ ‬had insisted they abandon their dream,‭ ‬had insisted that they could not insure their safety but the colonists,‭ ‬pioneers all,‭ ‬had stalled and stalled until,‭ ‬with the Reaver threat looming,‭ ‬they had been forced to turn their attention inwards and to solidify their borders.‭ ‬And so,‭ ‬ostensibly citizens of the Commonwealth but denied protective status,‭ ‬the people of Gome Prime were left to their own devices.‭ ‬So far they had been fortunate.‭ ‬The Reavers,‭ ‬their patterns unpredictable and random,‭ ‬had either not discovered the small band of survivors or had no interest in them and so left the colonists to their work.

And work they had,‭ ‬toiling endlessly toward the goal of complete colonization.‭

This was how the Crusade had become appraised of their existence for,‭ ‬without the constant stream of supplies being ferried out of the Commonwealth the colonists were forced to look elsewhere to acquire the goods their dream demanded.‭ ‬Sources reputible and disreputable had provided those resources,‭ ‬though at greatly inflated prices and it was,‭ ‬when certian debts could not be collected upon,‭ ‬that their creditors began looking to recoup their losses.‭ ‬Through the chain of intellegence,‭ ‬word first reaching a Nyxian transport,‭ ‬that information finally reached Xa Fel where Silk,‭ ‬in a unique position to capitalize on their problems,‭ ‬had acted‭; ‬dispatching Noctournal to reconniter.‭

“They are broadcasting trajectory information,‭” ‬stated the co-pilot.‭ “‬The coordinates are for their primary landing platform.‭”

Xoverus leaned forward resting his hand on the shoulder of the junior brother,‭ “‬What can you tell us of their facilities‭?”

“Scanning,‭” ‬he replied.‭ “‬Lot's of interferance.‭”

“That,‭” ‬Xoverus started in a cold voice,‭ “‬was not what I requested.‭”

He tightened his grip on the others shoulder drawing a wince from the co-pilot,‭ ‬though his pain was hidden beneath the vertical-visored helmet.

‭“‬Uh,‭” ‬he stuttered.‭ “‬It looks like a single primary complex radiating from a central dome connected to auxiliary domes by a network of subterranian tubes and tunnels.‭ ‬The buildings cover a radius of approximatly five kilometers.‭ ‬Each dome is heavily shielded,‭ ‬I would guess to protect from the harsh radiation and chemical storms.‭ ‬I cannot get a read on the exact use of each building,‭ ‬our scanners won't pennetrate the outer plating but if their colonization procedures match what I've seen on Yinchorr and Xa Fel the central structure will house primary power generators.‭”

“Good,‭” ‬Xoverus intoned,‭ ‬withdrawing his hand much to the relief of the brother.‭ “‬Life signs‭?”

“It's the same story,‭” ‬he answered.‭ “‬Scanners can't get through.‭ ‬But,‭ ‬if our information is correct we're talking about somewhere between three and five hundred souls.‭ ‬Mostly families of the engineers,‭ ‬technicians and specialists.‭”

“Do we have any details regarding species‭?” ‬This was the young witch,‭ ‬Morticia,‭ ‬asking.‭ “‬Can we expect any xenophobia‭?”

It was an odd question to hear from one of Crones witches.‭ ‬Until recently they had been largely ignorant of the galaxy beyond their small haven.‭ ‬Morticia,‭ ‬since being brought in to the Crusade fold,‭ ‬had become insatiably curious about the galaxy,‭ ‬about its species and politics.‭ ‬So fierce was her hunger for information in fact that she had almost exhausted the Crusades general knowledge database.‭ ‬Her curiosity and depth of knowledge,‭ ‬as well as her martial skills,‭ ‬had been the reason Noctournal had selected her for the voyage.‭

Still fighting to keep the skiff upright,‭ ‬Noctournal answered.‭ “‬General composition is human but in keeping with the make-up of the Commonwealth we should expect to encounter a smattering of alien species based on the application of their skills to the colonization effort...‭”

Cut off mid statement,‭ ‬Noctournal flipped the gravity field generators to maximum power as,‭ ‬breaking through the malestrom,‭ ‬the colony became visible only a hundred meters beyond the domed cockpit of their transport.‭ ‬Banking hard he skimmed across the top of an outer dome some two meters from impact.‭ ‬Reacting quickly he turned the ship on its side and spun around with such force that the g's pulled slammed the occupants of the skiff in to their seats.‭ ‬A second later the landing platform,‭ ‬it's domed shell open to the storm,‭ ‬came in to view.‭

“Hang on,‭” ‬demanded Noctournal evenly.‭

Then,‭ ‬with a bone jarring thump,‭ ‬the skiff bounced across the landing pad coming to an equally bone jarring stop just paces from the outer edge.‭

“We are down,‭” ‬he informed the passengers while around them,‭ ‬with the scraping sound of metal on metal,‭ ‬the dome wheeled slowly shut.‭




“Welcome to Gome Prime,‭” ‬said the burly human extending a blistered mit of a hand towards Noctournal.‭ “‬That was some landing you pulled off.‭”

Noctournal and the rest of his compliment had doffed their more traditional clothes in favor of typical spacer garb.‭ ‬His flight-suit,‭ ‬a once piece affair woven of drab brown fabric and worn in the knees and elbows,‭ ‬was totally unassuming or so he imagined‭; ‬having been removed from the general public most of his life Noctournal had only a sparing knowledge of spacer-clothes.‭ ‬Xoverus was wearing something similar,‭ ‬though with the badges of a medic and a belt of syringes,‭ ‬bio-scanners and compresses while Morticia,‭ ‬revealing more of her feminine form then she had previously done,‭ ‬was wearing a low cut jumper that hugged her hips and sported a blaster slung at her waist.‭ ‬The android,‭ ‬IG-100,‭ ‬remained aboard the skiff with the juinor brother.

‭“‬It was less skillful then I would expect of myself,‭” ‬supplied Noctournal in a soliderly tone.

This drew curious look from their host and his retinue of colonists but Morticia was quick to run interferance.‭

“Sure wasn't the smoothest of rides,‭” ‬she put.‭ “‬Banged my head a good one when we came over that outer structure.‭ ‬Thought for sure we were going to knock out your comms.‭”

“Oh,‭ ‬that wasn't the communication node,‭” ‬came the innocent,‭ ‬feminine voice of one of the colonists.‭ ‬She stepped forward,‭ ‬standing beside the bigger man.‭ “‬Communications are on the west ring.‭”

Morticia nodded,‭ ‬winking surruptiously at Noctournal.‭

“See,‭” ‬she started.‭ “‬You wouldn't have doomed these people,‭ ‬just scattered our remains to the storm.‭”

The two women shared a laugh though it remained obvious,‭ ‬judging by the skeptical look on his face,‭ ‬that the large man was dubious.‭

“My name is Jonah,‭” ‬he offered.‭ “‬I'm what you might call the big cheese around here.‭ ‬And this is Belle,‭ ‬my daughter.‭”

“Pleased to meet you Jonah,‭” ‬Xoverus greeted,‭ ‬doing his best to seem the amicable doctor type.‭ “‬My name is Xoverus,‭ ‬the pilot is Noc.‭ ‬And I'd like to introduce Morticia‭; ‬our security expert.‭ ‬You're probably wondering what we're doing out here in the god forsaken middle of no where...‭”

Jonah shrugged in a non-chalant manner.‭ “‬There will be time for that.‭ ‬You landed on the outer edge of a solar storm,‭ ‬now that it's closing in you and your friends won't be going anywhere for a while.‭ ‬Why don't I show you all to quarters.‭ ‬You can wash up,‭ ‬whatever you like.‭ ‬We're in the middle of our shift around here and change isn't up for another four standard hours.‭ ‬You would be doing us a big favor by staying out of the way until then.‭”

Xoverus,‭ ‬taking the lead,‭ ‬nodded and said in his most ignorant sounding tone of voice,‭ “‬We thank you for the hospitality and I assure you that we will do as you ask.‭ ‬This is quite the operation you have going here and last thing we want to do is get in the way.‭”

A short while later,‭ ‬between a quiet walk and a quick tram ride,‭ ‬the trio were shown to a sparse series of interconnected,‭ ‬honey-combed rooms.‭ ‬The place,‭ ‬as far as they had seen,‭ ‬had a very utilitarian feel with burnished steel and raw bulkheads evident at every turn.‭ ‬Leaving them to their own devices,‭ ‬Jonah closed and sealed the door behind him.

‭“‬That was unusual,‭” ‬Noctournal contributed.‭ “‬No questions asked,‭ ‬no answers supplied.‭ ‬These people do not seem the suspicious sort though that Jonah fellow seemed to have his doubts about us.‭”

Morticia,‭ ‬checking to see that they were locked in,‭ ‬said,‭ “‬They have work to do.‭ ‬It's obviously the priority and with us locked up they can get their work done and get around to us when they are good and ready.‭”

“Your thoughts,‭ ‬Xoverus‭?”

The high priest thought for a moment,‭ ‬in contemplative quiet.‭ “‬The Unspoken is with us,‭ ‬guiding us.‭ ‬These people are alone,‭ ‬isolated on the edge of space with the threat of invasion an ever present thing looming like a sword over their heads.‭ ‬They seem dull perhaps,‭ ‬but this is an act.‭ ‬They have learned to survive out here,‭ ‬to avoid being exploited.‭ ‬I feel that they are very much on the defensive and the exact nature of our being here is to them of little concern and of a more pressing nature is the days work and the continued survival of the people.‭”

“Agreed,‭” ‬Noctournal agreed.‭ “‬We will proceed with caution,‭ ‬assume we are being monitored and when the shift comes to a close we will probe for further information.‭”

“The Unspoken is with us,‭” ‬added Xoverus.‭ “‬We follow the will of our Lord.‭”

“That's quite the story,” Jonah was saying between bites.

As promised, only two hours later at the end of shift, Jonah had recovered the wayward party from the impromptu guest quarters and invited the trio to dine with himself and his daughter, Belle. Explaining that while the mess hall meals were sufficient, he guessed that, guests of Gome Prime as they were, the travelers might prefer a home cooked meal in his personal quarters which, without much begging, Bell had offered to prepare.

The Crusaders, in the guise of stranded spacers, did their best to pretend at enjoying the meal but Morticia, the only one among them with any aptitude for deception, was the lone actress pulling the act off flawlessly. Where Xoverus had previously pretended at being anything but what he actually was, he now resumed his more typical habits which included, but were not limited to not eating. His body required no ingestion of nutrients though he poked at the dish, forcing a few small morsels down the jagged maw that served as his mouth. And though this drew odd looks from their hosts, it was Nocturnal who was quick to explain, “Xoverus is a man of deep faith and conviction. He fasts frequently.”

This had seemed to placate them.

“Our ship,” Nocturnal detailed as a cargo hauler, “is in need of repair. Thankfully our shuttle was fully functional following the attack...”

“Reavers,” Belle cursed the name. “If it weren't for them...”

But Jonah was quick to cut her off, “They haven't bothered us yet.”

“At least not directly,” observed Morticia. “I noticed Commonwealth trademarks on some of the bigger equipment we passed. It must be hard for the military to protect you this far out.”

“Oh, they don't,” said Belle confirming their earlier intelligence reports. “They tried to call us in but...”

And again Jonah cut her off poorly camouflaging his discomfort with her innocent dispensing of details better left unsaid, “What faith do you observe, Xoverus?”

Nocturnal cringed inwardly, knowing full well that the priest would not deny his faith. A staunch creature, a religious adherent, he had already broken character once to play at this game of subterfuge and the guardsman doubted he would do so again. He could only hope that the priest would remain vague, for now. Until the time was right their task was mere reconnaissance.

“I follow the will and way of the Unspoken,” he answered evenly. “A faith perhaps little known in these parts, its influence is spreading quickly.”

“In the Commonwealth?” Jonah looked intrigued. “Don't tell me that this Reaver threat has people scared in to religion now.”

Xoverus remained impassive saying only, “Alright, I won't.”

“After the meal,” Nocturnal spoke up. “If you are perhaps not too weary after your days work, you could show us around the facility? I understand the storm is not likely to relent for some hours, if not days. I am sure our doctor would be interested in seeing your medical accouterments while I would be grateful of the opportunity to send a message back to our ship and the transponder on our skiff is just not strong enough.”

“While you boys do that Morticia and I can do some girl talk!” Belle squealed excitedly.

“Yeah,” Morticia groaned between clenched teeth. “We could do that.”

“Okay,” Jonah nodded. “We'll finish up here. Some of the other department heads would like to meet you as well, I'm sure. Seems you're going to be here for a while anyway...”




A dark specter, a leviathan of pure evil, the Crimson Emperor approached Gome Prime from the dark side of its primary moon. A soft blue glow, the tell-tale radiation of a dying star, played gloomily among the buttresses and precipices of the gargantuan space craft painting it in an eerie aura. Shielded from the planet yet exposed to the radiant waves emanating from the distant star, it slithered through space like some mechanical serpent closing on its prey.

“Their scanners are far too weak,” stated a bent and broken Xa Fel reading the display at his side. “Between their woefully inadequate sensors and those planetary storms there is no chance they will have detected our arrival.”

Though abuzz with activity the control bridge of the Crimson Emperor, bathed as it was in oppressive darkness and overseen by mason built gargoyles and giants, remained a place of order and of general quiet. From his position at the head of the flying bridge, his eyes studying the distant primary, Lord Silk absorbed this information. Between the Xa Fel menials, his Crimson Empire orderlies and the various mechanical constructs working the helm controls, Silk felt oddly out of place.

In his younger days, under the banner of the Crimson Empire and enacting the will of Dark Lord Maim, he had commanded fleets of ships, had at his fingertips the considerable firepower of star-destroyers and wielded these assets with uncanny ability. Now, however; as was becoming increasingly common, he felt more and more at odds with the technological world. Instead his comfort was found amidst the swirling tides of the Force, immersed in its intangible infinity. As such he found himself longing for a simpler existence, one rooted in the mysticism that had come to be his focus in life. He longed for the day when tasks such as this, the capture and possession of planets and similar assets, would be carried out purely by his underlings leaving him free to roam the uncharted realm that was the dark side of the force.

“Our mechanical forces will stand in readiness,” ordered Silk of his vast 'droid army. “Stand by alert stations. I want to be informed immediately when our spies on the planet report in. Is that understood?”

“Yes, my Lord.”

The Xa Fel and loyalists alike bowed as he passed, departing the bridge for parts unknown.




In their quarters, night settling in on the northern hemisphere of Gome Prime, the trio gathered to discuss their observations.

“Let us collate,” suggested Nocturnal.

They were gathered around a small, oblong table. The room, scanned to be sure no observation devices were now or had been previously present, was secured and the group dispensed with their false personalities. Xoverus, for his part, had removed his medical jumper and sat with only his undergarments protecting his nether regions from making the others uncomfortable. He among them seemed to be having the hardest time of it, of pretending to be what these colonists would consider non-threatening but his presence here was mandatory. He, and he alone, possessed the skills necessary to read these people and to garner from them an understanding of their mental state and their readiness to accept the will of the Unspoken.

And so, eager to play his part and have done with it, he was first to speak.

“These... people... they are alone, isolated from the rest of the galaxy and they know it only too well. They are bred from hardy stock, many of the lead colonists borne of families responsible for various colonial efforts throughout Commonwealth space. These are beings who are very well adapted to the idea of being alone with one another, they take strength in each individuals ability to function as part of a team, a team that thinks itself strong enough to survive whatever hardships they may encounter.”

“But their families, wives and husbands, children and the like... these are much more prone to suggestion. Their strength comes from the knowledge that their spouses or their parents know too well what colonization means. I believe that, were these stronger individuals removed from the equation, the rest would quickly cling to whatever salvation was offered them.”

“As to the technicians, the specialists, the engineers and tradespeople... with sufficient coaxing, could be brought to a place of compliance with our demands, our ways. And as a double incentive, were coverts made of their spouses and spawn, the Unspoken would have an easy time making subjects of them all.”

“Excellent work,” Nocturnal offered. “You truly are our spiritual core.”

He turned his attention to Morticia.

“Was your time with the daughter fruitful?”

“More then I would have thought,” she replied. “The girl is eager to find peers, and this is common among the children of the colonists. Furthermore, she has proven a wealth of information regarding the function of the various systems that keep this facility running. It is largely automated, relying only on sentient labor to keep those automated systems up and running. She has also confirmed what we believed to be true; the Commonwealth has largely abandoned them in the face of the extra-galactic incursions and the Reaver threat. They have been forced to find the means for survival from alternate sources and, given my understanding, this has come largely from small, private operators or companies... all of which we could easily track, trace and quietly shut down based on transaction records, serial codes and the like.”

“Valuable girl,” agreed the guardsman.

“I would like to request that she be turned over to the Crone,” Morticia locked eyes with Nocturnal. “The witches could make use of her, her and the rest of the young females present here.”

“Lord Silk would have to approve the dispensation of resources,” he broke her gaze. “But such a recommendation, with the word of all present here, would be taken seriously.”

“For my part,” he continued, “I have managed to compile a detailed map of the facilities. Jonah was surprisingly open in this regard, I believe him to be proud of the work that he and his people are doing. And like any proud parent, he is eager to show off his baby. His peers, the other project heads, were more curious about our presence here then he and by and large expressed a deal of anxiety that we had been allowed such freedom already.”

“That matches,” interrupted Morticia, “with what the girl was saying. Since the Commonwealth stopped supplying these people they have had a few sour encounters with merchants and privateers.”

“The sooner we act...”

Xoverus left the statement unfinished.

“I agree,” Nocturnal said. “We will return to the skiff and broadcast the all clear. When our brothers and our sisters arrive the colonists will be unable to call for help, I have seen to that.”




They had no warning. They had no chance.

These people, the colonists of Gome, were doomed from the moment Nocturnal and his compatriots arrived.

It was so swift as to be almost pitiful. Almost...

The Crimson Emperor appeared from seeming nothingness, a warship whose purpose was clear. With concise orbital strikes the gunnery crews aboard that humungous construct put in the colonists the fear of god, or worse. Their planet shook, rattled and trembled with the tremors of orbital bombardment but none, not a single blow, landed near enough the facility to damage it. This, it seemed, was a scare tactic and nothing more.

Using the screen their fear created the Crimson Emperor began raining a hailstorm of drop ships. They rained from the sky, thundered to the ground and broke open to reveal hundreds upon hundreds of mechanized warriors immune to the planets harsh climate. With footfalls that sounded like the rumbling of tectonic activity they marched in unison on the domed structures. With laser arc torches the breached the perimeters and flooded the chambers, tunnels and factories. Their weapons, potent but dialed down to be non-fatal, made quick work of the first colonists caught in the open. Others, quicker to react, flooded the subterranean network of shafts and tunnels which, interwoven, connected the various structures.

Not one living soul, not a single servant of Lord Silk, was employed in this swift, merciless blitzkrieg attack. Instead, leaving the mechanical monstrosities to do the dirty work, they began arriving only after the colonists had been rounded up, conscious or otherwise.

And so the real work began.

Children were torn from their parents. Spouses were split up, those with technical skills or trades to their name were isolated. The others, scared and weeping, were welcomed in to the arms of the Unspoken. Xoverus and his cadre of priests moved among them spreading the word of their god to these broken and sad beings. They employed mystic techniques, methods borne of the darkest force secrets, to speed the conversion of the souls. As they had done for Silk before, their words and their acts served to brainwash them, to break their spirits and deprive their bodies until, at last, they would come to see the truth; only the Unspoken could save them.

Others, those whom were deemed of use to the cause, were returned to the Crimson Emperor. Interred in the dungeons, the labyrinthine complexes that had given birth to the creatures Silk called his pets, their fate was assured. Torture, physical and psychological, would greet their every waking hour and even slumber would bring them no solace. Corrupting poisons, derive of ancient Sith alchemy, mixed with their bodily fluids preventing them from even a moments respite.

It would take time, true. Silk had understood this at the onset. Using his considerable knowledge of the force and the fierce loyalty of his subjects he would speed the process, he would make of them loyal slaves and once their re-education was complete he would return them to the planet to continue their work. In the in term his own people would begin to re-purpose the planet, and its facilities, to better suit the needs of his growing domain. Strip mining would begin soon enough reducing the outer planets to useless husks, tearing from them the mineral assets that, returned to Xa Fel, would fuel the fires soon burning.

A month, perhaps less, and this place, these people would be glad and willing members of the Unspoken, followers of Lord Silk.

The planet, he would rename. Something more apt to its purpose.

Mortuary.

This, he reflected, was how it would all begin.

Epilogue





Few ever saw the inner sanctum of the Dark Lord Silk.

To Nocturnal this was a great honor and a fitting reward for his service.

The chamber, simply incomprehensible in scale, was carved of pure onyx and in its center, bisecting the chamber, was a ominously tall and precariously balanced obelisk of the same black stone. Of it, he felt in awe. It seemed to drink up all light, to feed on that which served to illuminate and in its place leave a sucking, vacuous abyss in to which all fell and nothing escaped. This, he reflected, was as close to a black hole as any living being could hope to get and come away alive, if not unchanged.

Kneeling before the obelisk, his thick, heavy robes spread around him making him seem a blended part of the architecture, was Lord Silk. His eyes, pressed shut, none-the-less saw Nocturnal in perfect clarity. Here, sharing the dark lords haven, the pair felt intimately connected to the Sith and not just the man, not just Silk, but to the entire history of the Sith, to every dark soul who had ever spread his malicious ambitions, like the wings of some unholy avian, and sought to make the galaxy his own.

He dared not approach too close. His distance kept was respectful.

This man, this being dubbed Nocturnal, had been with Silk since almost the beginning. He had shared their isolation on Yinchorr, had studied under the Sovereign Protector since the days of yore. Yet, in this new climate, he had come to feel farther from his brother then when he had been first appointed to Silks battalion in the Crimson Empire.

As if reading his thoughts, which he may well have, Silk spoke, “The only constant is change.”

“Yes,” Nocturnal bowed. “My Lord.”

“You and the rest of the brotherhood, you have endured the worst and the best, you have been at my side in exile and now in glory.”

Slowly, the robes seeming to draw inwards from every corner of the chamber, Silk rose and turning to regard the crimson warrior, smiled.

“Today I reward you,” those swirling pools of black bore through his soul, saw to the very core of Nocturnal. “Today you become my apprentice. You have always been foremost among your brothers, and today you become more distant still. The ways of the force and of the dark side are known to you. But I shall give you such knowledge, such understanding that you will never again see the galaxy in the same light, instead in the darkness alone.”

Nocturnal, Silks junior by some ten years, wore his age well. The changes that had frozen Silk, restored his youth on Fangol and stopped the aging process, however; made him seem so much younger now, so much so that Nocturnal almost felt his senior. But in those eyes, those pools of tar black, the truth was evident. Standing straight, barely breathing, Nocturnal dared felt disconnected from his body as though he were the ethereal manifestation of himself. This was just as well for, could he feel his legs, he feared collapse.

The honor was too great.

“Go now,” demanded Silk. “Leave this place. I will summon you in due course.”

A long while later, Nocturnal having departed at his masters command, Silk was again alone in his chamber.

At least, mostly.

“He will suit your needs,” spoke a ghastly, ghostly voice.

In the swimming darkness and face seemed to materialize. The spectral manifestation of Lord Maim looked down upon his once student and smiled.

“He will suit our needs,” corrected a voice, another detached voice. Chaos lived in that voice, the voice of the Darth Xion, Sith Lord. “Your conquest is our conquest.”

Silk looked upon his former masters, nodding sagely.

“He will come,” he declared. “He will come to me in the temple on Xa Fel and I will give to him the body of my brother.”

“His strength will become our strength.” Maim groaned.

“His flesh will become our flesh,” tauting, added Xion.

“His name,” completed Silk, “is Necros.”