-Forming Intelligence Web Connections-

The small pads began to show readouts on overall functions and waveform dynamics on how the ReMAT operated and what its intended function would be. The general stuff, specifics would come when trade did, and only in the final effort.

The Cree'Ar were a mystery, but not an interesting one. Their technologies, while appearing beyond reach, would have to be based on some form of science, and that could be used and banded to their will.

"Now, if you would show us data on your Gravametric arrays and Arbiter designs..."

"Pend."

Kal Shora spoke, in his language, as he knew not another. He looked down at the panel in front of him, looking at the data as it began to form on the screen. He noted that the designs were somewhat lacking. He made a movement of his neck, one the Dameuns no doubt would miss but was intended to indicate his frustration with the situation to his Cree'Ar collegue.

In any case, he wasn't expecting full and immediate disclosure. On the other side of his hand, he wasn't about to offer it up, and expect the Damuens to reciprocate. He pulled two nodes from beneath his cloak. Each was a minuture variation of the cybernetic nexus, and would begin to implant commands to reformat the interface of these computers to one that the node could communicate with. When they were done, it would display limited schematics of the Mak'Bek Cruisers and Arbiters.

Left off were the sensitive technologies, of course... the hyperping generator, negative energy regulator, and the gravitic sensation and manipulation device. But there was enough there to cause salivation, he assumed, and in any case, there was enough there that the Damuens could fill in the blanks and know what was missing.

He was sure that negotiations would proceed, of course, he would leave that to the other side of the table.

The two forms gathered over the pad as the basic information was cycled into the display, appeased with the information displayed, subconsciously reverting back to a more humanoid form they ingested this new information into the web, taking from it what could be taken.

"Yes, we agree, these technologies would be sufficient for trade"

"We shall need some time to consider your proposal," Varex replied, and if he had had a mouth just then he would be straining to bite back a grin, "Privately, of course. We shall have to return to our ship."

This seemed to go down pretty well with the Daemun emmissaries, and it was not long before the Cree'Ar were back at their ship. On the way there, Varex had time to think more clearly. On the plus side, he had escaped from the Daemun infidels, if only for a second, but unfortunately they would soon have to leave the ship once more and complete the deal.

The High Elder's emotions were unreadable, but Varex had caught the sign earlier. Kal was obviously not happy with the amount of technology the Daemun were willing to supply them. This brought more questions into his head. Would the deal be completed during this trip? If it wasn't, would Varex have to go back again? Questions of this sort flowed idly through the Priest Lord's mind.

"So. What do you think?" Varex spoke in their own tongue once they were aboard their ship, "About the negotiations, I mean."

Lorento, below, was an unremarkable world. Much like many in the Old Sith Empire, the ruling civilization, in this case the Gree Enclave, falling into decay led the world to fall into disrepair. The world has been overgrown with green, a green that while symbiotic, was also parasitic. It devoured what used to be cities and houses and now the world stood as one, gigantic garden. Hidden under the grass and plants, somewhere, was a Gree Hypergate.

Well, he didn’t know that.

What Ahnk did know is that the Gree Enclave’s capital worlds had come under seizure. Hypergates from those worlds would be noticed if they went missing. No, if someone wanted a hypergate, somewhere like Lorento was the perfect place to go. Chances are, underneath all those ferns and bushes, sat a broken down hunk of steel and stone, which once was used to travel the stars. Since almost no one lived on this old hunk of rock, chances are, there were no Imperial agents milling amongst them.

In his Sith Infiltrator, Ahnk reflected. The last time he had gone hunting Cree’Ar, students of Vance Jas, a member of his Sith Order, had ambushed him. He felt a similar feeling of dread now, darkness below. Something was going to happen, something he could not foresee. Could he ready himself? He had no way to be certain.

But the task had to be done.

And with a firm hand, he angled the nose of his ship into the planets atmosphere.

“Gand.”

Zeratul, had he salivary glands or a method of excretion, would have spat on the ground.

“Disgusting, vile things.”

The man beside him nodded.

“Too… fixated on profit. Willing to do anything for money. Concepts of loyalty and spirituality are too foreign to be learnt upon them. They lack, however, enough collectivity to pose a significant threat. I assess that they are a low priority with minimal risk.”

He turned to his blue-skinned colleague.

“I concur.”

He pressed a button, sending the Gand into oblivion, to be replaced with a tattooed Zabrak.

“Zabrak.”

The elder cringed.

“Looks dangerous, even as a projection. Those horns,” he mused, “are they surgically implanted, or are they a genetic holdover?”

Zeratul stepped forward, scrutinizing the picture with his glowing eyes. “They are genetic. Each Zabrak has them, to an extent, some of course, develop larger than others.”

The other alien nodded his head.

“Much like your bone blade?”

Zeratul shook his head, clamping down on a frustrated sigh. Such an outburst would be unacceptable.

“They are not retractable, Tassadar. They are fixated beyond the epidermis.”

The other looked at him a small time, as if questioning his answer, before adjusting the focus on the holographic representation of the creature in front of him. “And these, markings on his skin, are they genetic as well?”

Zeratul again shook his head, this time less forcedly. “No, they appear on only a select few Zabrak. It seems to be some kind of… definitive art, of some sort. Similar to the ancient Naga dan’dora mare Skey’g’aar warriors dawned during the Insurgence.”

Tassadar shook his head now. “Battle tattoos? You would figure at their current technological state, this galaxy would have evolved beyond such trivialities.”

“On the contrary,” Zeratul jumped in, always eager to show off his usefulness in expectation of the commendations that often followed,” these ‘trivialities’ seem to be a throwback to a day long gone, when hundreds if not thousands of warriors wore such markings. Both of them who wore them did so in honor of a fallen ‘Sith’ lord, Darth Maul.”

“Both?”

The question was asked in a heightened tone, and was accompanied by a gaze in the Skey’g’aar’s direction.

“Yes. These markings I have seen on two warriors, a Darth Zeta, and a Lord Ahnk, both members of the Sith Brotherhood.”

“Both Zabrak?”

Zeratul shook his head once again. “Darth Zeta is a Zabrak. Ahnk is a human. A Nubian, I believe.”

Tassadar nodded his head, and made a gesture in his hands that Zeratul knew to mean that they had moved from their original discussion, and that he wished to resume it now.

“Risk assessment?”

Zeratul stepped forward.

“Of the Zabrak, or of the Sith?”

“The Sith,” Tassadar said, with a voice implying he should not have been asked.

“In my opinion, the Sith represent a greater threat to our people then even the Yuuzhan Vong. The Sith have stood for millennia without being defeated completely, they have always rebuilt and may now be at their most powerful state. They are preparing, as we speak, a massive offensive on the Jedi, their natural enemies in this galaxy. When they are done this offensive, they will be free to begin an invasion of our space. With their mysterious force, I do not believe that we can defeat them in personal combat. They would be able to destroy us. Remembering, lord, that they as we did, fought off the Yuuzhan Vong offensive.”

Tassadar nodded slowly. “How many Sith are there? Millions? Trillions?”

Zeratul shuffled his feet. “To my knowledge, under two hundred.”

Tassadar scoffed. “With so few numbers, how can they mass warships against us?”

Zeratul sighed. “They can’t, directly, however…”

He made a sweeping gesture to indicate his incredulance, as if his voice didn’t do it when he bellowed to Zeratul, “How can they defeat us!? With our innumerable supply of Tek’a’tara to slowly kill their warriors, and our formidable defensive warfleet… would they use this, force, to crash our ships into each other, and our warriors to crumble in fires?”

Zeratul nodded. “You do not understand the power of the force.”

“No I don’t,” he said quickly and curtly. Then, he paused, and Zeratul took the reprieve in his offensive to steal a breath. “No… I don’t. I require more information.”

Zeratul clutched his hand to his shoulder in the traditional signal of willingness to serve. “What would you ask of me?”

Tassadar looked at him. “I will require information on this force, naturally. You will be sent to study the Sith. I will have Xylon seek out their enemies, the Jedi, and find what their countenance is to the Sith’s power. Can you do this?”

Zeratul nodded. “I will infiltrate them immediately.”

There was a pause, and although he knew he was pressing his luck, Zeratul broke it with a question.

“For now, what will we relay to the homeworld?”

Tassadar sighed. “Very well, then. What is your suggestion in this matter?”

Zeratul bowed and spread his palms, symbolisitcally honored to have been asked his position in such a matter. “I would recommend that the Elder sent a warleet here immediately. Preferably, with his flag and with him in command.”

Tassadar sighed and slowly shook his head, “Do not you see what would happen if we took such a large force from our homeland? We are fighting 4 wars at present Zeratul, do you believe that we can fight another?”

Zeratul stood firm. “The Dominion will never falter!”

“Yes,” Tassadar said, uttering for the first time, heresy. “Yes, Zeratul, the Dominion will falter. We must not allow it to falter, because if we send too many of our men to die, even the gods themselves can not help us.”

“You speak blasphemy! The Dominion has not been defeated for over 4 millennia, the gods have seen to that! We will live forever!”

Tassadar sighed again, disappointed. “Zeratul, only 203 are you. You have not seen what I have seen. You were not even alive when Ador was destroyed. I lived there, in my youth. I have seen the Dominion suffer defeat because we made mistakes. We must endeavor not to repeat those mistakes. Yes, we have always survived and rebuilt, but if we are not careful, one day, we will run out of Cree’Ar left to rebuild.”

Zeratul scoffed, as silently as he could. “What will you report?”

Tassadar didn’t have an answer ready. He considered. “The threat needs to be investigated. I will not report. In 3 years time we will meet again here, on Votras, and we will decide whether the Sith are the threat you believe them to be.”

Zeratul nodded, accepting that.

Of course, that meeting had never taken place. Tassadar Dazdamar had been killed less than a year following, by Ahnk, after Zeratul had seen to it that Ahnk knew Tassadar was about to call for the Cree’Ar fleet. In reality, Zeratul was left in command with Tassadar’s death, and he called the fleet, which, incidentally, had been en route in any case. It had become clear to Zeratul that a mastery of the force would take years of dedication; years he did not believe his people had. He had made a choice that he was going to be their savor, even if it made Tassadar a traitor.

Now, he reflected on such time as almost better than at present. Kal Shora was even older and more protective of his fleets then were Tassadar. Although he was wise, he was often also very arrogant in Zeratul’s eyes. He never listened to him, mainly, he felt, on account of his race. As annoying as Tassadar had been, he had evolved beyond such ancient prejudices.

Distracted as he was, he didn’t notice the sentinel class shuttle until he heard the Tek’a’tara begin issuing commands inside his head.

“Unidentified shuttle, you have entered space controlled by the Cree’Ar Dominion. You will power down your shields, weapons, and engines. You ship will be taken into one of our carriers where you will explain your business with the Dominion.”

Zeratul looked up at the ship, and he felt something…

Something familiar…

Kal Shora allowed the equivalent of a laugh to pass his throat. He leaned against a control panel, already quite tired of this.

“You think as I do, Varex. I tire of this negotiations before they begin.”

He stood up, turning to him.

“These… Damuen people, clearly do not respect us, and clearly are our inferiors. Why we must deal with them to gain a foothold here, I am not sure. Borleas must be punishing me for something, I am sure.”

He shook his large head.

“No, about the negotiations I am not satisfied. We need something more. We are advancing this culture another millennia, at least. We need… something. What, I am not entirely sure.”

He looked at Varex then.

“Any suggestions?”

The saber strike exits Hyper space above a lush and green planet.

Vonta has a gift of using the force to program where she needs to go into a navi-computer. Normally the crew do not know where they are going until they get there.

"So, what now?" Toryn Sabreen asked Vonta Horn.

Vonta, standing in front of a window gazing at the abundant life below her seemed to be lost in thought.

Being of the Teras Kasi, Sabreen knew well that this world was singing a lullaby that only those sensitive to the force could hear. One of life in all its wonder. Sometimes Toryn wonders what that would be like. Then he just recalls that the force is a double edged sword. As capable of evil as it is of good.

The holo-gram of the ships sentient computer materiallizes beside the pair.

"Planet is as of yet unknown. The data base is being searched for the back round but it is yet elusive. All that we can assertain is that we are somewhere in gree space." The transparent holo-image of the computer personification of the ship, known as Saber, was dressed in a red and black evening dress. One that showed off just a little bit of leg at the bottom through a small cut in the dress done purposefully to allow freedom of movment as much as it accented feminine beuty.

Vonta pauses for a moment as she feels a stirring in the force.

A presence.

One that she reconized immediately after a moment.

Decked out in full complement of Teepo blaster, Extendable and retractable light saber staff, Cortosis chestplate and Teepo eagle helmet. When she stiffened and begin to grimace with a hint of a person ready to fight she gained the air of a seasoned fighter that all had to be wary of.

"Prep the shuttle Sabreen." Vonta orders the director of the royal guard.

"Of course," He glances questioningly at her knowing that she senses something.

Not to be one to leave her allies in the dark Vonta quickly relents, "On the surface is the one being that I have feared most. A traiter of the Jedi order. The Dark force user Ahnk."

She said no more. Toryn had no need to.

He knew the force users exploits well. Each death and infamous action that earned him infamy.

He called to him several of the top guards men along with several of his nohgri shadow guard.

All others were to stay on the ship.

Strike, the Synthadroid counter part to The ship computer Saber who was the physical embodiment of the holographic woman, only rougher and with the air of one that had seen many battles in her life, tried to argue that she was needed with her captain. The argument ended when Vonta made it clear that Strike was to be Vonta's back-up incase she needed it. Tactically sound reasoning won out.

Vonta and a small team of soilders led by Sabreen take one Sentinal shuttle to the planet surface. Not knowing what the future may bring, only that they had to face it with courage.

"Suggestions?" Varex asked in surprise, "I'm just the messanger, High Elder, but I might be able to think of something..."

In fact, Varex already had. He was just stalling for dramatic effect. It was the way of the Priesthood to dramatize such things. It was so very effective when they preached, but it was just as useful in situations like these. The High Elder obviously knew he knew, and Varex thought he might even know what he was about to say as well. Kal Shora loved playing games like these.

"These...Daemun people," Varex said at last, "They...they might just be infidels, but they do posess something that would take us some time to get on our own.

They posess information, High Elder. Information on the governments...the factions...the best ways to get to places. Information that might take us many weeks to get on our own, we can get easily in an instant from these people...would that be satisfactory?"

Kal Shora nodded. Varex Tarien was not born last century. He was intelligent, and self-interested.

A perfect Priest, he mused to himself.

Nothing Varex said was… new information to Kal Shora. He had, as Varex thought, been testing him.

“Yes,” Kal Shora said, “yes, now that you mention it they have something that may be of interest to us. They call it the Galactic Mapping Project. Our agent mentioned it.”

He nodded his head again.

“When we return, I would have you add information from the Galactic Mapping Project to our list of demands.”