Like locusts over a field of crops in the heat of summer's day, they descended on dagobah, and just as before, they set in motion a plan to etch thier mark onto the galaxy once again. Hoth had been molded into K'taruuk's vision of a new world, his Retak, not the poisoned rock that had been his prison for so long, a prison guarded by a blind jailer who held the key to free him and his people from thier isolation. In his own desire and will to be free, his terror-led insurgency had become a force to be reckoned with outside of Swarm Space, however, it was of little consequence. His grand army seemed pitiful in comparison to what it could be, that is if he could free his people and unite them under one true banner, his banner, his empire.


The atmospheric laser lit up the punjent cloud above Dagobah with an evervescant glow. In around a week, the laser and its processor counterparts would have done they're jobs and transformed this stinking mudhole into flourishing paradise of lush greenery and exotic wildlife of thier design.

From hereonin, Dagobah would serve as the foremost staging point for the Swarm's final push out into the galaxy. The consolidation of everything K'taruuk had mustered was taking place here and now, and would soon spill out over and consume every world in it's path. After Dagobah fell, everything else would come crumbling down in a heap of death and destruction.

All was indeed going according to plan.


....................


Retak-Several Days prior

"I am growing impatient of you Slimor, you can't hide his location from me for much longer . . ." Said the Imperius . . .his line of stern questioning met with an equally imposing silence.

"You must think me as a fool. Well I can assure you, I may preach about our need to distance ourselves from our aggressive feelings, but I am no weakling!"

The Imperius lashed out with his razor talons, and took a firm grasp around the scrawny neck of the much smaller Slimor. His grasp was tight and unrelenting, and with little effort, he held the smaller Retakkenari aloft increasing the pressure between his claws.

"Now, I'll ask you for the last time, give me the Coordinates of K'taruuk's secret fleet.

Gasping for a breath which would no doubt be his last, the often weak link in K'taruuk's long chain of authority, broke.

"Alright!" Gargled Slimor from behind the talons of his Ruler, "Alright, the coordinates are in the main brain vault, under code clearence, one beta twelve." Gasped the over exasperated soldier.


"That's all I wanted to hear." As the final word ebbed away from the High Imperius' lips, he lunged forward, jaws akimbo, and in one snapping motion, tore the head from Slimo's shoulders, and swallowed it hole.

"That price you pay for Insolence."

Word has reached us through reliable channels that an enemy infestation, calling themselves the “Swarm” has arrived in the galaxy, as we know it. Their ships, as seen on the holo behind me, are new, alien, and highly dangerous. They have been present in several of the battles our war-torn galaxy has seen in the past months, as seen here, here and here.

The reason we are assembled today, is because of an off hand comment made by an old spacer. The planet of Dagobah has seen the arrival of ships matching the description of the Swarm’s vessels with remarkable accuracy. Alarmed at the prospect, we dispatched a scout ship to investigate.

The report is true, and as you can see behind me, the Swarm is at Dagobah in force. This large contraption, its purpose is unknown. Judging by the defensive position taken by the Swarm’s ships we guess it is either very valuable, or very weak.

Our objective is simple. Infiltrate the enemy fleet, and find out what that thing is, and, if possible, capture a Swarm member. If the mission is too difficult, the odds to high, or the risks to great return immediately and we shall contact a few of the galactic governments with our information. Hopefully, they will act.

Your datapads have more detailed information, good luck and may the Force be with you.


The Infiltrator Scurry sat with her hatch open, and people scurried in and out with remarkable speed. Fueled, and now being loaded with everything that two Shadow Jedi would need, the ship was a sight to behold. The special paint her hull was treated with absorbed the light from the Celestial Corruptor’s overhead hanger lights, creating a black hole effect in the center of the hanger bay. Based off of ancient technology, the Scurry was still on the top of her game when it came to stealth.

Tobal bent over, and retrieved the bags he had placed on the floor while he had signed a release slip. The Infiltrators were highly protected, even the lower Jedi themselves were required to obtain special permission when they used one.

Moving into the cockpit, Tobal placed his two bags on one of the six four un-used seats and looked around. Obviously the person he was traveling with had not arrived yet, though his belongings had. He was uninformed as to his traveling companion, he had grown close to only two of the other Shadows, Vyktor and Jade. While he saw several other Jedi on the Iron World, he rarity spoke to them, preferring instead to remain by himself.

The mission its self scared him slightly. An infiltration on land he could deal with, and in fact would enjoy. But being aboard a ship, he was unsure. Unknowledgeable in the workings of these craft, Tobal’s fear was justified by the reasoning that he would be unable to defend himself should the ship come under attack. Even the strong protests that the ship would not even be detected shook his fears not. He had seen what the weapons aboard the Iron World could do, and thus he preferred the solidity of ground. Footsteps were heard on the gangplank, and Tobal turned to see who it was.

K'taruuk's Gragnak bone-clad desk was cluttered with papers and datapads of every shape, size and description. He sifted aimlessly through the mass of information which seemed to pertain to issues of battle. Maps, tactical strategic layouts of sectors and more combat information than one would want to touch with a ten foot lightsaber.

With his muscly claws K'taruu rummaged through and produced a small glowing datapad from underneath heap. On it was an image, a representation of the God's of the swarm. As Swarm lore went, the ancient ones that created the immense atmospheric technology that he now weilded, resided in another dimension from this one, and existed in a form of pure energy with powers far beyond the greatest force-using being. Among the battle plans and tactical readouts lay numerous passages of scripture and incantations taken from the sacred historical archives. They held prophecies of a time when the God's would fall and be replaced with a mortal who would in turn become immortal, drawing the powers of the old gods into him, and becoming the new all powerful being to rule over the Hive. The chosen one would rule.

To the casual reader, the signs of the prophecy were vague, however they stood out to K'taruuk as clear as crystal. First, the chosen one would go through a change, which consisted of five stages or trials. First first came the trial of blood, as the passage read;


The chosen one will undergo five stages of metamorphosis if he is to ascend to the highest plains.



Dragon blood will be spilled into the rivers of shadow.

The plains will burn and crops will perish as the black viens of darkness extend across the lands.

An Empire will fall and give rise to a new.

A sacrifice will be made one and many will cease to exist.

The Gods of old will cease to exist.



These five acts give passage to the chosen one.




He tapped his claws along the transparisteel viewscreen on the pad, in deep thought. His brow frowning in transfixed wonder.

K'taruuk, unlike any other Retakkenari had recieved much training to shield his mind from the collective consciousness of the Hive when he was in the care of the Eldar council in his youth. However that was a chapter he, normally, would be hesitant to recall, but not as of late.

On an expiditon into the depths of Retak's caves, the Eldar council's historians unearthed a shrine of sorts containing ancient artifacts never before seen or recorded, pertaining to the Swarm's past, present, and in some cases, future. It was when they returned from their travels that something happened. In his slumber, under cover of darkness, a number of the Sinsaar assassins attempted to murder the young K'taruuk in his sleep. They were foiled only by the timely intervention of the then Imperius, Kalnak. The assassins retreated, but not before fataly wounding the Imperius.

As Kalnak's life force drained away, and his voice ebbed from the Hive mind, he revealed to K'taruuk the ancient prophecies that foretold of a Chosen one born unto a barren world who would destroy the Gods. He said K'taruuk was that chosen one, that Golden child, and in thier own fears and insecurities, the scientists, theologins and sholars had conspired to end his life.

As the Imperius, who had been Mentor and leader to K'taruuk for all his youth, died in his arms, the young Retakkenari exacted revenge on the High counil that had conspired against him. In an utterly hienous rage, he savagely tore each one limb from limb. Eight, extremely strong members of the council perished horribly at the hands of the young K'taruuk, whom glistened with a power never seen before in the heat anger.


Reeling from the death of every high ranking offical, the swarm were left in the incapable and unstable hands of Kalnak's son Mernak.

Mernak was born and bred to succeed the Imperius, however when the time came to step up, he did not do well in role, instead bumbling his way through until the current Imperius took the reigns of power after his eventual death.

So, unbeknownst to many, K'taruuk had lived through the reigns of three Imperius', not the two which he had been known for. So in all actual fact, K'taruuk was around two thousand years of age. The oldest living Retakkenari was far older than he let on.

Before the death of Kalnak, K'taruuk was given the key to a vault, which he would open when he reached two thousand years. In that vault, K'taruuk gained sole access to the Eldar council's discoveries of the expedition into the caves more than a millenia ago. In the vault lay the secrets of thier race, thier origins, why the individual tribes are scattered throughout the quadrent.

It was all here . . .K'taruuk simply couldn't make sense of it all.




A buzz came at the door, and it opened with a swishing and a swift breeze of air.


"Ah, Doctor Mixenhine, just the Intellect I need to see.

Do come in." K'taruuk said, smirking, as the door hissed shut.

"This should prove interesting.."

Misery's gaze lay fixated upon the datapad that rested in her hands. She should have been aboard Scurry by now, but she had taken a moment to study the extra detailed information that was on her datapad; she'd been stopped anyway. The woman knew she probably could have had time to study the material aboard the ship, but much rather preferred to study it right then. She did not know if her fellow Shadow would be interested in going over the material or not, so she thought it better to be safe than sorry. She was not in much of a hurry; her bags had still not yet arrived, she read over the information to merely pass the time.

She had almost completed reading the material through when a man called out to her, disrupting her concentration.

"Ma'am!... Hey, excuse me!… Miss!!!"

The man lightly touched her on the arm to gather her attention, Misery looked up, a little annoyed that she had been bothered, though the frustration neglected to show as her gaze looked with the young man's. She smiled slighly.

"Yes?"

The man looked a little annoyed himself, obviously wanting to attend to other duties rather than stop to gain Misery's attention.

"Your bags... they're here. If you could just sign this slip... on your way again."

Misery frowned slightly at the young man's impatiens. She could tell how much of a hurry the man was in by the way he talked, fast and not in complete sentences.

"Yes, sorry, thank you very much,"she said as she signed her signature to the paper.

The man barely waited as the pen removed itself from the paper.

"Bye now, Ma'am,"he mumbled as he rushed off.

"...And a nice day to you as well,"Misery said as she narrowed her eyes while picking up her bags. The walkway wasn't that far off from where she stood, yet she found herself rushing toward the ships direction, hoping that her fellow Shadow had more hospitality than the man that had just given Misery her travel bags.

"Hi Tobal, sorry I'm late..."

Dakkon sat quitely, almost pensively aboard the Infiltrator. It had been a long time since he had really done anything in service of the Order. Come to think of it, his last official action on behalf of the order was with Arai. Or, against Arai rather. Her fall had crushed Dakkons spirit, and it had not recovered, despite coming into contact with Kami.

He shook away the thoughts, Kami had tried to kill him also. All of his old life was gone now. Fearsons was dead, as far as he knew or cared, Arai was dead, Kami was missing, Claire had been long gone and even those who hadn't been his compatriots at one time, were gone. All that was left of his old life was Jade, and that frustraited him. The last vestige of his former life was now his greatest responsability.

Shrugging mentally, he rose and leant out the hatch.

"Anybody know what time we're leaving?"

Not knowing how long this trip would last, Jade had packed clothes, but not much, cause sha had mostly packed weapons for this....mission.

She had been with her Master, Dakkon Blackblade, and still awaits inside the infiltrator, waiting for takeoff.

"Master, why dont you go bust some heads or cause a riot to get us moving faster?"

“No problem Misery” said Tobal, addressing her with the only name he knew. It was rumored that she had another, but seeing as she had not told him, he would not use it.

“I think we are about ready to leave.”




With silent grace, the two arrow-shaped ships exited the ESD, and maneuvered for direction. Then, they stretched out and vanished into the emptiness that is hyperspace.



Scurry

It was silent inside the infiltrator, Tobal had not been around Misery often, and thus he was at a loss for any casual conversation that might interest them both. … A Jedi does not always need to talk … if you find yourself with nothing to do, meditate …

The words of one of the many books Tobal had read in the library came back to him, and he nodded slightly at the wisdom. Sounds like something my father would say he thought to himself.

Floggle cringed, pulling the primitive hypodermic needle out from under the skin of his forearm. He moved to place the needle onto a small steel plate, but his fingers fumbled with the crude grip, and the instrument fell and hit with a resounding clatter as both the device and the plate fell to the floor like a climactic symbol clash.

The glass of the syringe shattered and covered the floor in small crystalline blood-covered fragments , spraying an entire spectrum of colour over the floor as the bright, surgical overheads beamed down upon them from above.

Distracted at the commotion, Floogle barely noticed the flow of blood that seaped steadily from his arm onto the operating table which he was leaning on before. As his eye gently twitched, and his muscles tensed, Floggle circled his finger around in the growing pool of blood and drew a happy face, a human happy face, the first and last he'd see for a long time. The mirror didn't even give him joy anymore.

As his trailing hand dotted the eyes on the magnificant crimson fresco that lay before him etched into the surgical table, his body grew limp and fell from its perch upon the stool, and crashed to the ground, his masterpiece . . .complete!


...................


The spiralling magics of his dreamworld whirled around his mind like a bad pot of coffee, its blistering heat barraging his senses while the ill taste clouded his thought. He continued to desend until he was but a meer dreg at the bottom of the mug, and there he lay, silent and numb from the world.

This was a bad dream like no other.



Then there was laughter. Coming from somewhere but nowhere to be found, evidently. The sound increased to a steady vibrating echo, like a cheap radio, stuck on the one station, and he was the only listener to this corny, taunting station.

He turned, not by his own will and was confronted by a figure of nothingness, a being clouded in his own shadow. The laughter eminated from its epicentre and radiated out like a bad smell, teasing his senses and causing his eyes to water.

Small tendrils broke from the shadow being, and surged toward Floggle, penetrating his chest with deadly precision, knocking him to the floor with a thud. Attempting to gather his feet only seemed to aggrivate the shadow, causing its tendrils to pulsate faster. He turned on his belly in a vien effort to get away, but like all bad dreams, his arms and legs refused to cooperate, things were getting worse all the time. . .

"All is in place, I trust?"


"Yes, we have finally re-established our contacts on coruscant, Malastare and Tatooine. Our supply lines are firmly in place with the Hutts on both Nal Hutta and Tatooine."

"Excellent. What's your progress on the construction at Bogden."

"My men are working at full capacity to complete the structure, although our followers are few. Our death stick recruitment isn't exactly flourishing in this era . . ."

"Find another way to distribute the toxin, and do it quickly, I will not wait forever Montross."

"What about your clones?"

"They won't be ready for a long time, even with hyper accelerated growth. You'll have to see to this on you're own this time.


I will look forward to when we meet again, Lord Montross."


"So do I High Elder, so do I."

It wasn't that Misery did not want to talk to Tobal; it was more like she couldn't. Misery was a rather shy woman, most of the time only speaking when spoken to. The woman had not been like this all her life, at least not until her parents' untimely demise.

She quietly watched Tobal for a moment, secretly wanting to know more about him but her shyness reserved her from doing so.

Another day and another time she would ask him, she promised herself.

For now... she was not ready to talk to anyone. Her work helped her to avoid what she stubbornly refused herself to do.

Her datapad was being given more attention today than Tobal, which was perfectly fine by her, another simple excuse not to be committed to conversation.

Reading was a boring yet easy way to pass the time.