Yaga Minor-Imperial Ubiqtorate


"This is ST 427 to Command Station, Code Clearance Blue. Requesting priority docking."

"Acknowledged ST 427,"Came the stern, disciplined reply over the comm channel, "docking will be granted once code transmission is completed.

Stand by."

The seconds ebbed away into the void of silence that followed, stretching out into an eternity of waiting.

"You are clear to proceed. Docking granted to Tower Jerjerrod-15, bay 21."

"Acknowledged."

As the stage of protocol passed, the Imperial Shuttle carrying Lord Xion and his entourage engaged its thrusters and hurtled toward Yaga Minor at full speed, passing by the gauntlet of Imperial warships guarding the traffic lanes entering the stronghold of Yaga Minor. From inside his chamber, Xion's apprentice, Maxor Krath watched through the plexiglass pane as the star lines whizzed by and the Imperial world ahead loomed closer, enveloping the shuttle in its domineering shadow. Encircling the planet like a crown of thorns were the dozens of Imperial Shipyards, production lines of the weapons of the Empire, pumping out an unrelenting stream of terrors unto the galaxy.

A morbid sneer curled across his upper lip, demonstrating- if a little ineffectually - the state of awe he felt at being in the heart of the Imperial war machine.


A glint of sunshine crept over the horizon and into the cabin through the window he was staring out of, causing Maxor to wince back and cover his face. He turned back into the room where he fixed his dazzled gaze back onto the darkness that quenched the room.

In a recess where the creeping light of the system's sun dared not to penetrate, his gaze was unknowingly met by his teacher. Maxor had not yet been fully briefed on his Master's reasons for coming to Yaga Minor. Perhaps the impact of whatever he had to say, weighed so heavily that it was best kept until absolutely necessary.

In an effort to satisfy his hungry curiosity, he dropped down, cross-legged onto the floor, to join in meditation with his Master, something he rarely did. Only on occasion would they meditate together, combining their minds, their thoughts, and their powers.

As his mind settled, he subconsciously contacted his Master, however the door to Xion's brain was locked tight. A psychic wall lay in front of Maxor, a thing he'd never encountered with the sith Lord. More often than not, the shallow areas of Xion's consciousness lay open to his apprentice, mostly in an effort to stay bonded to each other at all times.


The shuttle bumped and bobbed through the upper atmosphere, encountering all manners of turbulence as it burned through the heat shield.

All the commotion outside did little to hinder Maxor's efforts at cracking this unique puzzle. Mentally, he pushed forward, attempting to wade through the thick sludge of nothingness toward the barrier of thought keeping him out. Whatever had his master locked, had him entranced into a deep state of meditation.

A sinister foreboding cast a tingling chill down Maxor's backbone, urging him not to tread further. However, having an almost opposite effect, the sense of fear pressed him forward and gave him strength.

With all his mental might, he pierced through the wall and was greeted by an overwhelming flood of malignantly pregnant thoughts bombarding his mind. Images of unimaginable horror sprung fourth, barking and clawing their way past the breach in the wall toward the fresh plains of Maxor's fertile consciousness.

Almost immediately he was thrown back into reality, both physically and mentally by his Master, who was now standing in all his sickly glory, towering over Maxor.

"You may be my apprentice, but you will learn your place, wilfully or otherwise!" He commanded, lifting his padawan effortlessly into the air, and pinning him to the wall with the force.

Maxor gagged and chocked, unable to get a response past the invisible grip of his Master who stared with violent intent at him. Then, a timely message bellowed over the crackling commlink. Followed by the clank and shudder of the shuttle settling down upon the surface.

"Lord Xion, we have arrived."

New Imperial Ubiqtorate Base | Yaga Minor

The space station's command centre still smelled like fresh paint, Bhindi decided as she stepped into the recently furnished room. The Ubiqtorate Base had been by no means a rush job, built to the exact specifications required by the Admiral. And it was only in the last week, since the mission to Reecee, that the command centre had been completed.

The smell would be wiped out quickly by the finishing team, who were still working their way through the massive orbital station, but for now the crew would be forced to live with it.

The main room was a perfect dome, set atop the space station with large plexiglass viewports on all sides, reinforced several times over, of course. In the centre sat a raised dias from which the commander, whomever was overseeing operations in the command centre at the time, could see all that was happening. The bank of monitors in front of him could be used to tap into any workstation anywhere on the station.

Below that were the sensor stations, where highly skilled officers went about the laborous business of scanning vessels as they arrived in the system. They worked directly with the communications personelle, who were seated opposite them, forming an outer circle.

Beyond that lay monitoring stations, officer's stations, and half a dozen weapons control stations. There were constant reports on the state of the station and on the ships entering the system, all relayed to the dias where four officers worked alongside the commander and oversaw the entire operation.

Matters of urgent attention, an enemy assault fleet entering the system, for example, were relayed to the dias as soon as they were recieved, usually acompanied by an officer rushing up the steps with an oral alert, as well.

Six turbolifts were mounted on the rear wall, leading to the deck below, which was the security checkpoint, where another six turbolifts could be taken to the other parts of the station. The security checkpoint consisted of a wall with six blast doors, each with a security counter and two guards, plus a droid unit. No one got onto the command deck without first clearing security.

There were no escape pods on the command deck itself, but the security deck held enough for everyone who could concievably be on that deck at any one time.

Today, the officer in charge was General Blitter, an old Imperial with a small, but noticable, belly. He saluted Bhindi properly as she stepped onto the dias, and she returned it before glancing at the cieling, where a small portion of the planet and several Imperial warships were present.

It was a routine visit, she explained, and she wanted an update since last time she had visited, nearly a week ago, before the liberation of Reecee.

The General was just beginning his oral report when an officer rushed up the steps, holding a piece of flimsy and saying, "General! A shuttle has arrived with docking clearence for the private bay. They say that their passengers are one Darth Xion and one Maxor Krath!"

The General, of course, knew neither of these men. Bhindi, however, stopped, staring at the officer before turning to her aide, Godridge, and saying, "Let's go." Both knew of Xion, and the threat - or help - he could be.



Xion's shuttle was met in the private landing bay by Bhindi Drayson, Duesvult Godridge, and six long lines of white-clad Stormtroopers.

The Sith Lord in question had been a member of the Demosthesian Empire, an aide of sorts to Seti Ashar, before the fall of that Empire. But he was also rumoured to be a part of the Naboo Sith Order, and his presence here could mean anything.

Bhindi and Deusvult each offered a polite nod and slight bow to the Dark Lord as he arrived, both of which were returned. He looks like a corpse. Bhindi thought as he returned to his full height and eyed them both closely. Gulping slightly, she said, "Darth Xion. Welcome to Yaga Minor."

Eight days previously-Olabria


Frictor panted heavily as he clawed his way across the razor-ridden gradient of the cliff face, gripping tightly to the sharp rocks that protruded out into the crisp alpine air.

The sweat began to bead furiously on his forehead, some droplets tricking down into the tear ducks of his eyes, causing his lids to blink frantically in an attempt to clear the salty liquid from his sight.

Every breathe seemed to push him closer to the edge, so his panting quickened in pace. Short clean breathes penetrated his lips akin to those a tired dog made after a hearty run.

A small ledge was in sight. The small ledge went onto a plateau, then back onto straight land.


He was almost home free.


The shuttle's wing struts pierced the cold low cloud line ahead, making long trails of clear air around them into his direction where the wind sighed to him.

Curiously, a small trickle of pebbles and dust, pattered onto his forehead from above, creating a light haze onto his spectacles. He reached up, feeling for the ledge to pull himself to safety. Gripping with gusto, he hoisted his sturdy frame over and collapsed in a joyful heap at the peak, finally able to breathe easy.

Then, the sun pierced the clouds above, glinting into his spectacles, blurring his vision. The sun however went hand in hand with the terrifying familiarity of a snap-hiss which signalled the already low cloud to descend further upon him, covering Frictor in a veil of thick white.

He scrambled to his feet, he made a last ditch attempt to run to the shuttle, although his frenzied footwork was met by the rapid swishing of a red hum through the clouds. His breath was overcome by a petrified whine, cut short by the glowing red blade of a lightsaber through the spinal column.

Frictor's prone body crumpled to the ground in a heap, doubling over and crunching his neck under the weight of his tumbling body, contorting itself horridly into the ground. Stray data cards and journalistic papers flapped and fell through the air, blanketing the surrounding ground in a hail of notes and blood.

The sound of a humming death permeated the cloud, filling the cliff top with a tingling sensation of morbid serenity.

A lone clap began to drown out the saber hum, growing louder, coupled with a deafening crunch of boot on gravel.


"Good, good. His insistent probing had become most irritating. However his clumsy belligerence to attain information has proved to be his ending.

I do admire his tenacity. Don't you Maxor?

He was willing to rest down his life for his unrelenting thirst for the truth. Remarkably stupid, yet refreshingly admirable.




Well, dispose of the body. We have much work to do."

Five Days previously- En route to Yaga Minor

Maxor stared curiously at his crimson-soaked palm, a sickeningly calm look passed his eyes as he looked on, sitting in his private chambers.

Surrounded by candlelight, the fresh flame danced across the room, causing all manner of frightening shapes to be cast across the recesses of darkness in the room. His hand seemed to flicker as he looked at it, making him blink a bit and break his gaze.

He rearranged his thoughts back to the subject of his original study, ancient Jedi scripture "borrowed" from the once Imperial controlled Jedi archives back in the days of the Civil war, and by its side lay a copy of the Imperial Science Bureau's official Dossier which spoke of his Master's latest obsession, a planet named Roon.


'Roon,' the page read[/i] 'the centre of a seldom sought after location known only as the cloak of the sith because after it's the perilous layers of treacherous asteroid fields and gravitational anomalies that "cloak" the area in a shroud of danger.'

The text continued, 'Deemed "officially" impenetrable by Imperial authorities, the Cloak, also falsely lauded to be an infinite source of wealth and fortune due to it's high deposits of minerals, was taken out of all Imperial patrol routes and tradelines because of it's extremely hazardous space-faring conditions.

The system has gradually been phased out of almost all Imperial maps and databanks, marked off limits to all Imperial Craft.

Information Available to Clearance Level Red, highest clearance.

If you are reading this and are not of Clearance Level Red, please hand yourself in, complete with Text, to the nearest detention block.'


Interesting, he thought, allowing his inquisitive eyes to slowly drift across to the tattered pages of the ancient archival text which seemed to have an archaic rhythm to it's ambiguous reason.

'Cloaked by Darkness, shrouded in evil, Roon't'ala bears a weighty price for those of tainted spirit that enter.

The tail of the God's marks the only true path toward it's black heart, stay true, and do not stray, and one will be spared the fate of a wanderer. Waver and one will be smashed into oblivion.

The day of Roon't'ala will come when the face of death smiles upon it's surface, all shall burn and the dark shall become light, as the light will wallow in darkness. Death, with his hand, shall strike down upon the people of Roon't'ala a ghastly fate of suffering and death.

They will know his name.

And he will know his own.'


Puzzled could not describe the feeling that clouded Maxor's thoughts when he finished reading the final sentence.

As the Scripture read on, it seemed to resemble more and more of a prophecy than anything else which left Maxor more baffled than before he had started.


This casual act of study to demonstrate his knowledge of the situation to his Master, had taken a sharp turn toward a full blown mystery of Intrigue.

Nine Days previously-Olabria


Frictor shuffled unsteadily among the tree branches, attempting to balance the acts of standing on a tree branch so high up and taking holographs. He settled himself on the main trunk, resting his back firmly against it, and propping his hands up on a branch ahead, aiming his camera through the thick, green foleage.

Ahead of him, about one hundred yards away lay a reasonably large facility built into a small hillside. Protruding from it's base was a long tunnel, stretching out onto a grassy clearing in front.

His holocam clicked and wirred as it captured image after image of the facility and it's location.

Every now and then he tugged and fiddled with a foot long box that was slung around his shoulders and fell to the waist. Inside lay a heavily drugged Ysalamiri, an essential item when spying on a Dark Jedi. If he fell from the tree his medical bills would probably cost as much as he'd paid for the force-resistant beast that dangled from his being.

He was not force sensative, not by any means, he was taking no chances on this escapade. The rabble of charms, amulets and talisman's that riddled his pockets and swung from his neck attested to that.


Suddenly a sharp breeze blew through the air, causing the journalist to scramble for his footing, making him drop his Ysalamiri in the process.

The small boxed animal hurtled to the ground and the casing splintered, shattering over the tough ground below. The sedated lizard then began to slowly but surely crawl away, out of instinct to escape.

"@#%$!" He exclaimed under his breath as he began to scramble his way down the slender trunk of the tree to the ground.

The gravel of the rocky ground crunched underfoot as he tried to fidget around in the undergrowth for his reptillian force sheild.

His gaze suddenly shot upwards, allowing him to catch the glimspe of and avoid a small disk-like projectile heading straight for his throat.

Turning sharply, he noticed the disk had embedded itself firmly in the tree behind, it's razor sharp edges now glistening in the morning sun.

Without a fleeting thought, he turned on his axis and fled in the opposite direction, narrowly avoiding a second disk which grazed his arm, tearing a section of his sleave from the shirt.

As he ran, he activated a small recrding device attached to his belt, bringing it up to his mouth.

"Damnit!" He spoke,"they've discovered it. Lana, lana" he said softly, if hurridly, "if I don't make it back, you have to continue my work. They're planning something big down here. We have to stop it, we have to . . . "

The recording was cut short as a third disc sent the recorder flying from his fist, slashing a firm lasceration in the palm of his hand.
He released a yelp from his lungs while grimmacing to cover the pain.

They were after him, it wouldn't be long until he met his end.


He reached around and quickly pressed another little device on his belt and activated it. The tag read, 'emergancy alert beacon'. If he was to perish here today, he would not go silently, what he had found was far to important to die with him.

Seven Days Previously-Olabria

The dank room was filled with a tingling cold, lit only by three streams of interlocking moonlight that cascaded down and focused upon a steel table . To the rear of a room he could hear the slight chatter of his Apprentice, Maxor's teeth.

"Don't fear the cold my friend." He whispered, his raspy husk of a voice trailing on the icey air.

"The cold goes hand in hand with the darkness, and that you must embrace.

Or be enveloped by a blizzard of evil."


Maxor always felt rather puzzled whenever his master came out with one of his cryptic lines. He just skewed his face in a befuddled position and heaved out a sigh of thick condensation in front of his face.

Xion weezed a dry laugh past his withered lips. "In time, you will come to understand. You are still in the embrionic stages of your training, your mind weighs heavy with malicous pregnant thoughts. In time, I will teach you to birth your anger onto the Universe." Xion's ambiguous speech stopped midway after his attention seemed to focus on another object.

"He has arrived." He said with curious intrigue.

The wind gained ferocity as the lights of a landing shuttle displaced the moonbeams penetrating the room.

Seven Days Previously-Olabria

The shuttle jinked to the side slightly as they passed through the atmosphere, the heat of reentry waking the Sith Lord from his slumber. He shuddered as his eyes readjusted to his surroundings.

What the... ?

Momentary confusion swelled around the Hapan like a cloud before disappaiting as quickly as it formed. His surroundings had changed and he was no longer on Xa Fel. Or Corellia. Or his ship.

He was only ever in those three places.

"Good Morning Sir."

The words were chirpy, unbearably so. Lupercus' ears came near to bleeding.

"Incase you were wondering, we are aboard an Imperial Shuttle, enroute to Olabria."

The Imperial Ubiquirate?

"Admiral Drayson has requested your assistance in matters unrelated to... Governorship."

Drayson had no part in this...

The aide still saw a look of confusion in Lupercus' eyes. His decision to come here had been made following a night out in Corellia, which had obviously impaired his judgement.

"You agreed to come at the mention of one 'Ren Janggar'. My intelligence files indicate he was a Hapan military officer and former confidant of your brother. He is declared dead by the Hapan armed forces..."

Ahhh!

His reason for being here revealed, Lupercus sat up, dismissing the aide with a wave. Now moving with purpose, his legs curled up into a position of meditation, Lupercus closed his eyes and waited.

The shuttle descended...









"You haven't been the same since that night on Averam..."

The voice was followed by its body, Lupercus walking slowly down the extended gangplank and onto the tarmac. Before him stood the much older body of a Somir, and behind him Lieutenant Maxor Krath (retired), former Imperial Fighter Pilot of the New Order. Although they had never met, Lupercus made it a point to know all who were considered 'key figures' by Imperial High Command.

His presence as a Sith under Ren came as no surprise to the Hapan.

"Tell me, do you still serve nothing, or is your presence here meant to indicate something to me, old friend?

Am i here to welcome you to the fold?"

"Must you indulge in such excess before you attend my call?" he hissed, his words seething past his tongue.

"The stench of human recreation is hanging around you like a disease.

If I were to serve anything, it would not be such a foul smelling creature such as yourself."

As far as Xion's remarks go, these were farely complimentary.

Covering his dark, grey lips with his long bony fingers, Xion turned on the balls of his feet and headed back to the complex, dissappearing from the small circles the shuttle floodlights created on the ground. His clanking footsteps became more and more muffled as the winds screamed past.

Maxor remained for a split second, ushering Lupercus inside, which he did before following him down the long entrance shaft.


"I do not trust in your ability for memory recall, so I shall reitorate why you are here before me.

The World of Roon holds a great power, I want that power." Roared Xion, smashing his fist into the center of the steel table for effect. His statement was blunt and to the point, as was his growing obsession with the dark world.

"I trust, that in one of your uninebriated attempts at study, you have came across an area of space known as the Cloak of the Sith?"

Lupercus smirked inwardly at the Siths brash display of anger and desire. He was truly his brothers keeper. Then again, that would be more than enough reason for Lupercus to lash out and kill him again.

The name of Somir was like mud among the true sith of the Galaxy.

Maims betrayel would never be forgotten.

"A dark mass of seething gases and spinning asteroids that is so hazardous that it is officially classified as impenetrable. For the brave few who attempt the crossing, the reward is worth the risk - the Cloak harbors the galaxies only source of Roonstones."

He gave Ren a sidewards glance as he realised the Siths goal.

"The Rainbow comets, itinerant ice balls pass close to the system's small sun once a year and trace out the only safe path thru the cloak of the Sith."

By now his eyes had drifted absentmindedly towards his fingernails, which he picked at with interest.

"Yes, i know what the Cloak of the Sith is.

Care to continue, or is breaking tables more your style these days?"

If you weren't such a valuable asset, I wouldn't hesitate to incinerate you were you stand. He thought, burning a whole into the sith with his eyes.

"The cloak is worth a lot to me, and will be worth considerabley more to you, if you were to aid me in securing it's assets. An ability to mine Roonstones would present an infinte source of capital to your band of Sith rebels."

He paced around the steel table, his boots hidden by his forboding cloak still cracked sweetly on the stone floor. He sauntered giving Lupercus enough time to absorb his subtle offer.

"Your part in this, if you so choose, would be to deal with the Imperial beuraucracy that I despise dealing with whenever an operation like this arises.

A source of wealth is discovered, Imperial administration steps, corporate sponsers circle like vultures, nobody wins.

However if you do your best to keep this quiet, and keep those who seek to meddle, out of my way, the cloak and its gems are yours.

I only need what is at the center of Roon."

The flare of anger was palpable to the Sith Lord, the emotion sending a near orgasmic shiver down Lupercus' spine. It swirled around him quickly forcing the Sith to repress his simple desire to vent.

"On principle, i can't disagree. You are 100% right."

His lips pulled back against his teeth, revealing them to the other Sith.

"But i was never one to stand by principles.

What the hell are you getting out of this?"