The mottled gray mass that was the planet Rodia rotated slowly as it moved through space. The natives on the surface, while already under the banner of a strong rule, knew little of what was in store for them. For a period, plans had been turning around like a wheel, slowly gaining momentum toward reaching the final conclusion that remained the desire of a select few individuals working under a much darker rule…

Seated in the confines of his Sith Infiltrator, Vance Jas looked out at Rodia beyond his flight canopy. From orbit the planet looked less than worthless, with most of the environment being overcast and humid, however the Sith Master knew that Rodia held a far greater worth, and The Sith Order would require it. As it was, there were apparent rumours of a revolution, a rebellion even, starting within the planets main Government; and in some ways, the growing chaos was like a precursor to the arrival of the Sith, and was quite fitting considering the circumstances.

Looking up to his control board, Vance ensured that the cloaking device on his ship was still active. Satisfied, the Sith Master stood and made his way toward the aft of the vessel. For this mission, as it were, Vance had decided to bring an assemblage of Sith members, mainly Apprentices, each of whom would be proving their worth to the Order through the capture of the world below. A daunting task to some, perhaps, but to the Sith it was just a simple hurdle in the quest to destroy the Jedi…

Entering the hold, Vance looked at the assembled Sith. Each knew what was expected of him or her, and they knew that only with the grasp of the Sith around Rodia would they receive a pass for their test. Glancing to Recon, another of the Sith leadership, Vance couldn’t help but smirk at the old man; the aged Sith Master was beginning to slow, it seemed, but he had still insisted on aiding in the current mission, excited as though he were many years younger than his actual age. Still, despite Recon’s appearance, Vance knew that a sharp wit and strong will lay beneath the worn exterior.

"We will be conducting a test for the Apprentices this day," Vance said, breaking the dull conversation in the hold. "We are to meet a member of The New Order, a ranked official, who will be giving the Sith orders that are to be completed as swiftly, and as efficiently, as possible,"

Looking to the Apprentices, the Sith Master narrowed his eyes. "To begin with, I will make contact with this Commander," He said, before motioning toward the general area of the planet. "While the remainder of you will land on the planet surface and begin taking up positions to best nullify the attempt at rebellion on Rodia,"

Narrowing his eyes, Vance gave each of the gathering beings a hard look. "Failure is not an option, for we are Sith," He said, his voice low with threatening tone. "You are expected to give everything, even your life if need be, to the Dark Side, and as your leader I expect nothing short of perfection... do not fail me, or you shall live briefly to regret it."

Turning his gaze to Recon, Vance spoke to the other Sith Master in a low tone. "The being I am to meet, who goes by the name Desaria, will be arriving shortly. I expect that we may be offered addition forces to command during this change in Government, though I expect you will ensure that our members are on their guards, until I am able to rejoin you. "I will take the single fighter in the docking bay, and will make contact," Vance continued. "From there I want you to take the Apprentices down to the surface, organize them as you see fit, and prepare to move when given the command; I expect that the negotiations will be speedy, as a revolution has the potential to hinder an economy in short order."

Looking to the Apprentices, Vance shook his head. "They had better be prepared as they claim, otherwise I will be very displeased," He said, his eyes narrow. "However, I understand we cannot assume how well along their lessons have taken them, and only trial by fire will determine just how much knowledge and proficiency they each truly possess... it should prove quite interesting, to say the least."

Turning to the group in general, Vance cleared his throat to quiet any conversation. "Before we begin this invasion, are there any concerns or questions that you feel you cannot answer through your own initiative...?"

The images swam into focus around him, and he gazed into them hardly, sternly, focusing on one, then another. The images were of a wide variety, and as they swept in, they went out, disappearing as quickly as they had come. Images, images of the future is what he was seeking, but like a wise old Jedi master had once quoted, always in motion was the future was. There was no telling how their mission was going to turn out, and so Necros sat in the hold of the Sith Infiltrator, sorting out the various images, seeing the various paths that could be choosen. Although it was really to early to be searching for answers, seeing as how the mission was just beginning, he could help get a feel for the current events taking shape by doing this, as his mind was just now learning.

Opening his eyes, he was sitting cross-legged on the floor of the cargo hold, his cape swirling around him, his death mask lying on the floor next to him. The other apprentices were paying rapt attention to Master Jas as he was describing what was going to happen, about the meeting with the Imperial official, and what would happen to them should they screw up. Then, Master Jas wanted to know whether or not any of the apprentices had any concerns that they wanted to voice. Although undoubtetly, Master Jas had already searched into the future himself, Necros still felt it important to fill in Jas and the others on his future gazing.

"Master Jas, I understand the importance of this mission. However, I advise caution when meeting with this Desaria official. He is a proud man by far, but underneath that layer, I also sense a deep well of cunning. I believe he is at his appointed post not because of his family nobility, but that he is a potentially dangerous adversary." stated Necros.

"As for what else could happen, well, today should be a very interesting day indeed." Necros said, following up the laugh with a cold chuckle. With that, he went back into a meditative state, gathering his powers, focusing upon the potential conflicts ahead....

This was Ithron's first mission with the Sith. Everything that had happened before this had been training or dueling. While Sith training certainly had the capacity to end your life if you performed badly, the Knights training you weren't actually attempting to kill you. On this mission, it was entirely possible, bordering on likely that people would be seeking to kill him.

Reaching down to his belt, Ithron touched the sabre there. He and that sabre had been through a lot, and until the time came to construct his own, he was more than happy with the dirty red of its blade.

Master Vance Jas gave his briefing. None of this was new to the assembled Sith, who had been told of the importance of this mission. They all knew Master Vance's reputation and Ithron for one had no intention of failing him for a second.

Weeks ago, the Sith Master had approached him, and told him to be in the Sith Hanger Bay at a given time. It had been Ithron's first substantial contact with this Master since their brief conversation during his training - he momentarily wondered whether he remembered him.

One of the Sith spoke, drawing Ithron from his musings. The Sith was a Knight called Darth Necros. Necros had run a great part of Ithron's training, and over time, Ithron had learned to respect him as one might respect a father. The Knight had power far greater than Ithron and yet in this mission, the two were going into danger together. That, along with the solid feel of his lightsaber, was all the reassurance that Ithron needed.

Looking around at the other faces in the cramped hold, Ithron smiled. Of those who had been training at the same time as him, there were several with whom he had developed a healthy rivalry and at least one who had become a firm friend.

"Master." Ithron spoke, attracting Master Vance's attention. The older Sith with whom he had been speaking in a low voice also turned to look. "What sort of resistance can we expect?"

Mira sat on the transport, silent, listening. That was something she did often, actually; it wasn't in her nature to speak up before she knew as much as she could find out without speech. For now, she was content to let Master Jas speak.

Her mind wandered back to the time, about a week ago, that Necros approached her in the training room. She had been spending much of her time there, attempting to once again regain control of the Force. Whenever she attempted to use it extensively, things began to happen that she did not intend. Such as the shock she had received ten days ago when Dark Side energies had literally electrified her body. She didn't even remember what she had done. It was frustrating, but slowly she was regaining some Force abilities.

A week ago, though, Mira had been practicing some basic exercises, such as common levitation. She'd just managed to lift a glass off a nearby table when Necros interrupted her. The glass had shattered, and, frustrated, she turned to the Sith teacher. He had ordered her to accompany the rest of the Sith on this current mission.

So here she sat, listening to Master Jas's orders. As he spoke, her mind flashed back to a time six years ago when she was still at the Jedi Academy. She was twelve, and she had just been accepted as a Padawan by Corran Horn...

Mynenial sat in her room, going through her basic Jedi exercises. When she reached the deepest point in her meditation, she reached out and attempted to lift the glass on her bedside table. It rose slowly and began to move towards her...before flying straight up and shattering against the ceiling.

The young girl swore, uttering oaths that were not to be used inside the Jedi Academy just as her new Master walked into the room. "Problem, Mynenial?" he asked, chuckling.

Her face flushed redder than a laigrek's eye. "I'm sorry, Master. It's just that I can't get things to move right!"

Corran laughed. "Well, at least you can get things to move. I'm stuck using my own resources, such as walking across the room to pick up the glass.

"What I was coming up to say is that Master Skywalker is sending me to the Corporate Sector to facilitate discussions between two power-hungry, and somewhat violent, corporations. It sounds like the perfect first mission for a Padawan."

Mynenial let out a whoop, then flushed red again as Corran burst out laughing. "Glad you're excited," he said.

"Sorry, Master. I'll gather my things right away!" She moved to start packing when Corran stopped her.

"Uh, Mynenial, aren't you forgetting something?"

She stopped and thought, scrunching her face in confusion. Corran continued, "The glass? Clean it up first."

"Oh," she replied, with distinctly diminished enthusiasm. "I'll get right on it."

The introduction to this mission had been similar, but different at the same time. And she was with the Sith now, the sworn enemies of the Jedi. No time to dwell on that now, though. Time rather to focus on the mission at hand.

Ithron was speaking now, and Mira winced. Over the weeks she had been at the Sith Temple, she and Ithron had formed a shaky alliance. Mira saw him as a tool to be used up and discarded, and Ithron, she assumed, saw her as passionless lightsaber-fodder. But they got along, for the most part. Thus when Ithron asked a question that he should have already researched, she winced.

Mira had already done her homework on the subject. As soon as she discovered that the mission was to be to Rodia, she had spent two days in the records and archives of the Sith, as well as tuning into HoloNet broadcasts about the current political situation of Rodia. Even so, her plan was to find a spot in the shadows from which to watch the events play out until she was needed. That was the way of the Assassin. That was her way.

Perrin listened dispassionately as the Sith Grand Master relayed the general instructions which amounted to "hurry up and wait".

The Sith Leader was correct about one thing, however. They all knew what was expected of themselves...namely, to succeed.


However, the real question was how?

Was the planet in rebellion or were they the gloves over a preemptive Imperial strike?

Or did the Sith Grand Master have something else in mind? Were they to go so far as to strip the planet from the Imperials?

For out of Vance Jas' own words, that he was to meet a member of the New Order, the Grand Master implied that he had no intention of including (even in conversation) the Sith within the Empire's New Order.

So what game was being played?

Emperor Hyfe trained outside the perview of the Sith Order though he toyed with the dark arts in his own way. A student of the Dark Side yet separate from the Sith Order. It was something Perrin understood. Why pay tribute and give allegience thereby subjecting yourself to the Sith Order when you commanded an Order of your own empire rivaling Palpatine's and with near infinite resources at your disposal.

He thought of the irony of the Sith Grand Master and his order depending upon resources of an Empire commanded by a Darksider who may or may not be the equal to Jas.

So, what is the greater game being played? Would Emperor Hyfe allow a world that was his to change loyalty to a potential rival?

If so, Hyfe was not in touch with the more dangerous elements of the Darkside. Or, was this the 'wheel within a wheel' element of planning that the Imperials were infamous for at work here?



"Before we begin this invasion, are there any concerns or questions that you feel you cannot answer through your own initiative...?"


Perrin raised an eyebrow at this.

The question was double-edged. "Can you work without a net or do you still need to be milk-fed?"

Of course, the burning question in Perrin's mind was, after this is all done, will Rodia pay tribute to the Emperor and his Empire or to Vance Jas and his Sith? It was, however, a question he expected no answer from and so kept silent.


However, the fence-sitter decided to open his mouth and display his ignorance further.

What sort of resistance can we expect?


Only the sort of resistance put up by people who do not want to die.

Once the 'rebels' of Rodia learn who they are fighting they will know that before the day is out their blood will stain Sith blades. If that didn't make a desperate foe, what would?

And whether this 'rebellion' was a group of ten people or ten thousand, the Grand Master's orders would remain the same. Pride would see to that.


Standing next to the fence-sitter was a female apprentice apparently day dreaming.


Oh yes, what a formidable bunch we are..


Then his eyes moved towards Recon Klain and he felt, despite himself, a twinge of respect. Here was a man who had lived, conquered and commanded the attention of the Force.

After the breaking of the Galactic Empire, many Sith empires rose from the ashes but more often than not, the Sith would gravitate towards Korriban or some other place that held the remains of dead Sith Masters of the past. They would rummage through their crypts looking for some sort of amulet of ultimate power or hope to be possessed by the spirit of the dead Sith that
was insane enough to linger in his own crypt over the millenia.


These little thinkers went to war over the remnants of the past.

As if the Sith had fallen into a Dark Age of ignorance, no longer able to conjure the powers of old, no longer able themselves to create their own amulets or devices of power. He himself was studying the art of marrying force powers into inanimate objects and it was not a task as easy as one might think.


But Klain had mastered it. He had created a sword. The Blade of
Klain! And it had the power to reanimate or ressurect the dead. Or so the rumors said.

Gash Jiren's clone son had used it which was a testament to the power Klain possessed. Or had possessed at one time.


It would be very interesting to see the old Sith in action.


He sighed impatiently waiting to see if any others would open their mouths before they went to work.

Near an Unnamed Nebula...


The battle drills had gone as expected: the 20th Squadron of the Line had done well but the standards they met were the bottom line for the Guard, not the top. At that thought, Grand Admiral-Baron Telan Desaria smiled inwardly to himself for the Guard was his and the rivalry between the regular service branches their combined elite arm would go into legend.


" Commander Extet, my compliments to the Squadron. Reform the ships ane prepare for the jump to our garrison on Naboo."


Young and crisp, the executive officer of the Imperial V-class Star Destroyer looked to trhe Grand Admiral as if he had stepped onto the bridge from a recruiting holo. His boots were well polished, his mannerisms proper and refined, his chin chiseled and face lean. That the click of his heels was superbly executed as he obeyed his superior's command did not suprise Desaria in the least. Perhaps the Guard could use him once his mettle is tested by fire.


" Your Excellency." Desaria turned to Captain Voltaire, his faithful flag officer who had likewise accompanied him on the exercise rather than take leave with the rest of the Intimidator's compliment as she berthed for a small overhaul. " A priority signal is incoming from High Command, Eyes Only - All Flag Officers."


The Grand Admiral nodded and took the offered cryshac from the Captain's hand. He scanned the two-page missive and sighed. " Captain, it appears as if there are problems on Rodia; a small insurrection of sorts. The locals we left in control have apparently alienated their charges. Send word to Command that I will handle this as were in the area. The 20th will accompany me."


" Very good sir. Your authorization code?"


Desaria arched an eyebrow and Voltaire tightly grinned. " An addendum sent also, Grand Admiral, requiring the authorization code of the accepting officer."


" Alpha Pi Omega Nine Nine Epsilon."


Voltaire handed over a second sheet which elicited a quiet damnation from the lips of the Commandant of the Imperial Guard. " The Emperor has dispatched a small number of Sith from their order to aide us. We are to use them as seen appropriate and I am to report back to His Majesty on their effectiveness as a reward may be offered them."


" Problem, sir?"


" Not especially, Captain, but the Sith have always unnerved me. I defeat my enemies with tactics and big guns - they use what none of us can see. Commander Extet! Change of orders - best speed on reformation to Rodia. Battle Alert, all ships, prepare for counter-insurgency work."





Rodia


The Imperial ships exited hyperspace three in number, each one a small and agile gunship of no more than a hundred meters each. Quickly they fanned out pushing civilian traffic from their path, as if clearing an area for something. That something appeared barely a minute later in the form of four long and slender cruisers, and three nagular Star Destroyers, one in the traditional form and the remaining pair formerly designated the Astrus-class. More small ships followed, frigates tenders and a small four-squadron carrier, creating quite a sight. What civilian traffic had been orbiting, held up by a reluctant orbital control, fled as fast as they could.


The arrival of the Imperial Fleet was typically not a good sign. To a world under Imperial control, it spelled doom for those who had displeased the Emperor for he did not suffer fools gladly. The hammer of his might would soon fall and crush those who had defied his command.

As he had spoke, Ithron didn't need to use any senses other than the usual five to detect the reaction to his words. As he feared, many of the Sith had misunderstood his meaning.

Before Master Jas could answer, or even react, a Sith Knight burst in with: "Necros, didn't you teach these apprentices anything? If you want to be a Sith, boy, you should do your groundwork before you come out - and not expect others to do it for you. Are you hoping that the rebels will take one look at your black cloak and fall at your feet praying for mercy? Hah." The Knight leaned forward, narrowing his eyes at Ithron. "There will be resistance enough for you. The Sith Order has no place for the weak."

"Your pardon, Master." Ithron replied, using the honorific even though the Knight was no master of his - nor had he even seen him before this mission. "But I beg to interject that I was not, in fact, referring to the rebels. Nor did I mean to trouble you with the small worries of a mere Apprentice."

Of course, this translated as: "Fool, and I wasn't even asking you." During his training and in the time since, Ithron had learned a lot about how to speak and how to behave. One such thing was how to express those annoying little sentences that would earn you a painful death if you said them exactly as you thought them.

The small cargo hold went quiet. Inclining his head towards the knight - the nearest to a bow that could be managed - Ithron turned to face Master Vance Jas once more.

"I was in fact referring to the Imperials. What sort of resistance can we expect from them to us carrying out our orders?"

I may be no Sith knight, he was thinking. But I know damned well that your average imperial soldiers don't like Sith.

One of the advantages of having worked doing odd jobs on so many stations was the gossip he got to hear. Many a drunken conversation that Ithron had heard had involved the phrase "bloody Force this and Force that".

Had the older Sith forgotten that not everyone in the galaxy knew - or cared - about the Force? To Ithron's mind, it was entirely possible that whatever Imperial forces remained on the planet could be just as great a threat as the rebels...

Long since, have we laid dormant.

Our existence only being a rumor and a whisper for the curios, these poor fools would be the first to acknowledge them.

This ‘planet’ looked like a dead moon from space; you wouldn’t even expect it to house life forms.

Mistakenly so, the planet was a lush with rainforests, bountiful oceans and a beautiful metropolis,

New and old apprentices filled the hanger bay to listen to the detailed plans. Some of which Recon had never seenbefore. He himself had been waiting for a few hours for the armada to arrive. Watching, waiting, and meditating.

Some looked with fear in their eyes. Unwilling to die.

Others looked content. Willing to sacrfice.

What laid on the surface was unknown… even to a Master.

Wearing a traditional black robe the two Masters talked about the meeting of… someone.

Cautious the Sith were in revealing themselves. Letting out a slight cough, he looked to Vance.

“Additional forces would help… Though, I would wonder what this character has in store for us. We should pay close attention to his motives after this attack. The empire doesn’t help me sleep at night.” Said Recon in a low manner.

Turning back to the apprentices the two Sith Masters began taking questions.

The one known as Necros explained his concern over the meeting with the Empire. The next to expel some sort of discomfort was an apprentice named Ithor; this young apprentice’s future looked bright in the dark arts.

“What sort of resistance can we expect?” said Ithor

Taking in a deep breath and turning to speak to all the apprentices….

“The resistance can only be aware of our interference if you let them. Do you intend to go into the city and start waving your lightsabers around?

Using the force to openly kill in the streets?

During an uprising? You are mistaken. When we land on the planet, we will be nothing more then immigrants.

Until we have received word from Master Vance we will blend into their community.

We will go to different parts of the planet, to different points of interests.

Only when we receive the word we will strike. Disarming the resistance will be nothing more than a training exercise. Do not worry my friends. We are here to covertly take over this planet. But we are also here to have some fun.” Said Recon as a wicked smile escaped his lips.

Ithron openly spoke infront of the group. His words were of discomfort to Necros.

It seemed everyone had mistaken his question to the elders. Nothing more then a miscommunication of sorts. Before either of the masters could comment on the situtation a loud boom came from space.

The Imperial Fleet was here...

Laughing slightly; Recon turned to Vance. Letting him handle the situation with Necros and Ithron.

Having left the hold for his personal quarters, the Sith Master began preparing for his meeting with the Imperial official; he had learned, long ago, to never simply blunder into a situation without appropriate measures taken to ensure personal safety.

Especially around those ignorant of the Force, and fearful of what they could never understand.

After all, Vance would be boarding a craft filled with young, eager Imperials who were easily excitable... not to mention tensions would undoubtedly be high, due to the coming planetary takeover.

Reaching for the pair of lightsabers that sat on the small bench beside the bed slab of his personal quarters, Vance clipped each finely crafted weapon to his belt; one at his right hip, the other at his lower back, concealed mostly for the element of surprise if need be. After a moment, the Sith Master walked back to the cockpit of his craft, tasked with making contact with the newly arrived force. As he sat in the pilots chair, the Sith Master reached out and activated the communicator. He sent a broad, easily detectable frequency communiqué, which would undoubtedly be intercepted by the crew of the Astrus-class Star Destroyer.

<<"Unidentified transmitter, you are ordered to present your position and state your intentions in this region of New Order controlled space,">> Came a crisp reply to the frequency probe.

"I am Sith Master Vance Jas," The hooded being said simply, his blue eyes distant. "I request an audience with your Commander. I suggest that you allow me entry into your hanger, and send a representative that can escort me your leader..."

<<"You may berth in hanger bay seventy-seven, Lord Jas,">> Came the reply, almost instantly, the young being's voice sounding distant on the other end of the conversation. <<"You will be met by a member of our order, and will be taken to his excellency, Grand Admiral Desaria. Landing permission granted.">>

Vance sighed, disappointed at the simplicity of the communicator operators' mental willpower. Clearly the being had been placed at his allocated position for a reason, though it seemed that his ineptitude was now endangering the security of the Imperials on his ship; and while this was more than likely not the intended result of his mock placement away from any real responsibility, save for verifying enemies and presenting them as targets to the tubolaser emplacements, it remained that he could be influenced to allow almost anyone landing authorization quite easily.

Standing, Vance began to stalk toward the rear of the Sith Infiltrator. He would take the small P-60 starfighter that was concealed within the under hold of his craft, allowing the rest of his Sith brethren to remain cloaked and free to descend to the surface to prepare for the signal of attack.

Once he had reached the lower bay, the Sith Master climbed into the starfighters cockpit, and activated the flight systems. As the bay door opened, Vance pushed the sub light drive control forward and left the internals of the Sith Infiltrator. Turning his craft about, he began to cruise toward the considerably larger Imperial fleet . He would soon find himself amongst Imperials…

Sometime Later

Vance stalked down the ramp way of his personal craft. His cloak billowed about his legs, the soles of his boots silent on the metallic mesh underfoot. The Sith Master cast a critical eye around the hanger bay, his arms crossed over his chest; it seemed that the crew of the Star Destroyer took great care to ensure a high standard of craft upkeep.

While patience was one of Vance's principal intrinsic merits, the Sith Master hoped that the communications operator had passed along his request for an escort promptly...

Perrin's eyebrows raised as the apprentice's face clouded over. Before he could interject, he felt a wave of scorn from another knight in their ranks, one that Perrin did not know personally. By the sounds of him he was a fool that Perrin would do well to stay away from.

"Necros, didn't you teach these apprentices anything? If you want to be a Sith, boy, you should do your groundwork before you come out - and not expect others to do it for you. Are you hoping that the rebels will take one look at your black cloak and fall at your feet praying for mercy? Hah."

Perrin almost ignited his lightsaber and lopped his breathren's head off. An act that would have, no doubt, strengthened the Order.

"Your pardon, Master. But I beg to interject that I was not, in fact, referring to the rebels. Nor did I mean to trouble you with the small worries of a mere Apprentice. I was in fact referring to the Imperials. What sort of resistance can we expect from them to us carrying out our orders?"

Perrin sighed. The Imperials have long since been proclaiming themselves as something special in the galaxy and, it seemed, their arrogance was having an effect on even the Sith. There were those thoughts you directed to typical people and then there were thoughts you directed towards Imperials.

The Imperials are nothing special and were in fact, one and the same with what they would call typical people.

Who gives a damn what the Imperials think? They are dogs leashed to their master the Emperor. So Perrin was content to allow the Imperials their lashing out verbally at the Sith from a dark corner, scared that a Sith might overhear their fear.

"The Imperials are creatures of extreme discipline, apprentice." he remarked, glaring at the foolish knight until he turned away. "The smallest of them will do nothing without the leave of his superior and so on and so forth up the chain. When dealing with Imperials, the only link in the chain important enough for your attention is the one with highest rank. Control that and everything else will fall into place."


He pointed to the fighter craft that had departed carrying the Sith Grand Master. "Master Jas goes to meet with the link of the highest rank. Fear not the Imperials."


Perrin turned away to examine his clothing. It was not the typical dark robes and dirty undershirt that prevailed among many force user sects but rather, it resembled a rather popular style that had been among the coffers of information on Rodia provided by whatever resource the Grand Master opted to use for this mission.

Content that he continued to maintain his air of indifference and style, he knew he would blend in wonderfully with the general populous. These old colonists always act like they don't give a damn, especially moreso for those either joining this rebellion or wanting to distance themselves for fear of Imperial reprisals.

The Sith Infiltrator began to descend into the clouds.