Dark Renascence

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 5: A Brief Time In History, part IV
D’Aylanna’s bittersweet smile mirrored the chaos of her emotions.  Oh, she’d cooly kept an impassive mask securely upon her face–an innate survival technique that had been firmly entrenched since early childhood within the Hapan Court–but her emotions were anything but.

Death is lighter than a feather; Duty heavier than a planet

Even though the context of the Hapan axiom was meant for something far, far different, the fact remained that it was a truism for D’Aylanna in the here-and-now.

Just as Jorya too had done her duty when Kage Oyuna Chan’dn had tasked the Togruta to infiltrate and gather intel on the Sons of Kessel with Kenneniah Mack of the Mak’Tor².

As a newly promoted, full-fledged koawan, Jorya was given full autonomy commensurate with her rank.  Yes, she was young (again, not so young as D’Aylanna had been but young nevertheless), but she’d proven herself during the Dark Singer Conflict³ against Jennira and her brood-thrall Melinchae.

Once again proving herself with (and amongst) the Sons.

D’Aylanna smiled wistfully, remembering the marked change within her daughter: from when she and Kenneniah had left they’d been almost exuberant in their eagerness. 

Ah, the naivete of youth…

However, when Jorya had returned–with more surprising news that Kenneniah was engaged–she was no longer, to use her Skakal’s euphemism, so green.

Closing her eyes, D’Aylanna well remembered that day on Zonama Sekot listening to Jorya’s After Action Report from her chair as 7th Speaker of the Hall of Balance.  From how the Sons were organized to their (then) seeming inexhaustible supply of materiel to their enigmatic enforcer Black Armor to the man himself, Scrubber.

The Sons had turned out to be many things…but they were not the terrorists that the Gray Convocation had assumed.  Indeed, thanks in no small part to Jorya’s intel, they now knew that the Sons of Kessel were an anti-slavery group, one that had arisen as an autonomous power within Hutt Space.  And while they were trained, the Sons were much more.  Jorya had more than seen it; she’d lived it.

She had not spoken of them as something separate but instead with a sense of belonging.

Apropos of such, she’d seen action surrounded by the people that Jorya had come to respect and care for…and how she’d lost comrades.  Yes, she’d seen death before, but this time it had been “closer” and “more real” (her words).

But that hadn’t been the worst…

It had only been later on that night within their apartments that Jorya had sought her out.  Her Skakal had been busy helping Master Karmack so it was just the two of them.

“...Mom?” Jorya’s tentative voice was at complete odds with the confidence that she’d displayed in front of the Council of Balance earlier that day.  D’Aylanna herself had been meditating on the floor of the Atrium, legs crossed as a honey-lavender incense stick burned slowly.  Even in the setting sun, D’Aylanna’s brown bare shoulder seemed to glow with an innate warmth.  “Mom?”

Without opening her eyes, she gestured for her daughter to enter.  “Please, Dear One.”  Lightly tapping her hand on the floor, she smiled.  “Here: sit next to me.”  Admittedly it had been awhile since she had Meditated with her.

Slipping her boots off, Jorya quietly sat opposite D’Aylanna, virtually mirroring her.  Wrapped in the Force and in such close proximity, D’Aylanna could sense the unrest within her daughter.

“Breathe.  Balance.  Release that which ails you, my daughter.” D’Aylanna’s low voice was hypnotic, trying to assuage the unspoken trepidation affecting the Togruta’s aura.  Through slitted eyes she saw the much taller young woman’s face try to relax.  It worked.  Somewhat.

Minute things–fingers tightly clasping then releasing, micro-figeting, her slightly ragged breathing–became apparent.  Not that Jorya didn’t try…but whatever was bothering her would not be solved by Meditation.

Feeling that there was a better way, D’Aylanna opened her eyes fully, giving her daughter a small smile of comfort.  “Dear One…” She offered, gently touching Jorya’s folded leg, “Please.” She said simply.

Jorya smiled wistfully before her lips began quivering, unshed tears in her eyes.  “...Mom…it…I couldn’t…it was…it was…terrifying.”  She said the last in a whisper, her head sinking so low that she was almost folded in half.  Steadying herself with both of her hands on the ground on either side of her, she did not sob…but D’Aylanna could hear the soft, wet sounds of tears falling upon the floor.

“Please, Dear One…” She reached out, gently touching her daughter’s montrals.  At D’Aylanna’s touch, Jorya seemed to calm down, taking comfort in her mother’s tenderness.

Slowly she inhaled, the breath seeming cathartic as she found her voice once again.  “It…it was Black Armor.  I…we...were in trouble, real danger…I didn’t know what…what to do…then…then…he appeared.” Jorya raised her head, her blue eyes staring deeply into D’Aylanna’s.  “There…there was so…so much blood…” She shivered as she mentally relived the moment⁴, horror that she’d buried abruptly erupting forth.  “I…I…” Her voice trailed off, quiet and suddenly small.

Drawing herself up upon her knees, D’Aylanna wrapped her daughter within her arms, the taller Togruta timidly seeking comfort in the warm embrace as if she were a small child.  Softly, D’Aylanna began to sing a lullaby–a Hapan lullaby that she’d learned long ago when she herself was young–as she tenderly stroked her cheek.

“I have you, Dear One.” She assured her.  “I am here.  Father is always here for you.  We’ll never abandon you…never stop loving you.”  She glanced down at Jorya’s face, the healing weight of her words giving solace.  Gently, D’Aylanna rocked back and forth, the hypnotic motion helping to bring serenity to her daughter.  “I love you.” She whispered, her dark, slender hand delicately stroking Jorya’s face.

Jorya was one of the bravest people that D’Aylanna knew.  And even now all these years later, she knew that the young woman was frightened by that incident…but she’d learned to accept the fear, to continue on despite the fear.

It made D’Aylanna love Jorya all the more.

Which helped her in the here-and-now: D’Aylanna knew that what she did she did because she loved Jorya.  And she always would.

Finally D’Aylanna felt her apprehension evaporate away.  As she knew she must, she would do that which was required.  She would defeat Gaetana.  And free her daughter.

She deserved nothing less.  She loved her…

And always would.

   <<<<< >>>>>


Surrounded by darkness and the almost womb-like sounds deep within the ship of the hyperspace transit, Or’an was dealing with his own memories.

But unlike D’Aylanna’s peace, his elicited absolute terror.

He was back, back on Zonama Sekot, back with the Ferroans, back in the village.  He had never experienced such beauty, such tranquility, such happiness, such life.

The Ferroans had accepted him, taken him in as one of their sacred own.  It was the first time since crashlanding there that he’d felt a sense of belonging…

…A home.

But then came that night, the Gloaming of the Beast.

Even as horrible the memory he felt, his visage did not change, the carefully controlled mask that he perpetually wore firmly affixed.

And would remain so.

For even after the Gloaming, he’d been twice lucky: he’d some upon the Cataphract Triarch, Alcyorr.  That and he’d been given a new purpose in life, one that only the Triarch could offer, that of the Hamask. 

It was then that Or’an felt the dread and fury abate.  Purpose.  Duty.  Existence.

He was Hamask.  And, as always, his judgment was absolute.
_________________________________________________________________
2. As seen way back in “The Gray&the Unchained: The Cost of Freedom, CH.1 Missions:” https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=37226.msg606264#msg606264
3. As seen way back in “Shadow Etude, CH.14 Contrapasso, partI&II:” https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36277.msg600542#msg600542
4. As seen way back in “The Gray&the Unchained: The Cost of Freedom, CH.6 Finagle's Law, part III:” https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36277.msg600542#msg600542

[Lord_S_Gray]

A great look into D'Alyanna's and Jorya's relationship here, magnifying and filling in details from prior stories in new ways, making it both familiar and fresh, very well done. 

But there is a sad undercurrent, D'Alyanna is arguably going through a pre-emptive grieving process in her reflections, pulling on the memories of Jorya as she was in D'Alyanna's eyes, and affirming her maternal affection, yet at the same time preparing to "do that which was required" - it appears she is laying Jorya to rest in her mind so when she finds Gaetana, it is only Gaetana she sees.  

It's a very bitter sweet process Dutch has articulated here, a horrible necessity for D'Alyanna, in that it is the very love for Jorya that will allow D'Alyanna to do what she must, it is a very 'Gray Jedi' solution to the problem she faces - she won't cut down Gaetana with hate or rage for taking her daughter from her, but out of love for Jorya and honouring her.

This also highlights D'Alyannas shrewdness in not telling Zearic her true plans, this isn't something he could do, his is a fiercly protective love for his family - no greater then D'Alyanna's of course, but of a type that couldn't contemplate not trying everything to free her from possession which, I think D'Alyanna knows is futile [to wit in his battle with Karmack in WYLB Zearic was ever trying to bring him back to the light].

And that is a pain she wishes to spare him - D'Alyanna I think knows that Zearic would more easily accept (relatively speaking it will still be devastating) Jorya's death in battle than seeing her live caged as Gaetana's flesh puppet indefinitely.

Well done here Dutch for creating such a complex emotional and moral dilemma and working through the DAlyanna's process in dealing with it - it is perhaps causing D'Alyanna even more pain than her Hapan captivity ever inflicted.

Regardless her 'Shakal' is dealing with his own problems. 

Kintiks 'faith' in Sidious 'plan' has been rewarded - though how much is actual plan versus Kintiks sharp mind perhaps following a hope rather than reality is another matter...but given the results it hardly matters.  
He's found an absolute boon of a cache of warriors - in decent condition considering the time that's passed (clearly someone planned that well...the Ars Ingens perhaps?) - and who knows what else, and for every success of the Executor the Vhal'dan are in greater danger - unknown Imperials accessing an unknown ruin (to them at least) that is thick with the Darkside - the Cataphracts now hoping they can just get out alive now. 

And waiting, quiet in body if not in mind is the Hamask, haunting the fringes of each chapter...some great images generated here too, Oran looks fearsome and bulky as one would imagine!  

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 6: Captive Pursuits, part I
Sitting within the subdued confines of the large quarry, Gaetana took notice of the various rock strata, appreciative of the varied layers that made the stone of the room look as if it were painted.  Unconsciously, she twirled a computer stylus in her hand, the long, slender cylinder dancing between her fingers as her attention switched from the geology of the room back to the holomonitor.  As she did this, she idly stroked her cybernetic lekku with her other hand while focusing on the three sentients that looked both confused and frantic.

Unknown to (or even usually interested in) Gaetana, these were all idiosyncrasies that Jorya would adopt when deep in thought.  It would have concerned her acutely…again, had she been conscious of such.

But she was not.

That wasn’t to say that it went unnoticed–it had been–just not by either Shard within Jorya’s captive body.

Instead, Gaetana kicked her boots up on the computer station while she curiously watched the three sentients on the holomonitor as they tried to get their bearings: all three had awoken in a small, metal room that had but one exit.  Of course, she couldn’t make it look too easy so she’d activated a simple forcefield as if to keep them confined.

She watched as they searched first their room–which had a single bench bolt-welded to the deck–and then their unremarkable utility coveralls which they all wore.  ...Yes… She thought mockingly.  ...Your captor is foolish enough to leave tools to aid in your escape, you frellik… Gaetana laughed as she cursed…

…Something that the real Gaetana would never have done.  But Jorya did, something that she’d picked up from her Father.  The iron in the sandstone really gave it a particular ruddy beauty…

In the holo-image, one of the humans triumphantly held up a small hydrospanner they found in their pocket, soon beginning the work of dismantling the wall panel next to the door.  Yet even with that, a bored Gaetana noticed that it took an additional 12 minutes for them to disengage the forcefield.  It was a good thing that she’d chosen them as participants for her Alchemy; clearly they were not particularly qualified technicians.

...Father always said that anything can be solved with time and pressure…just like with geology… She thought idly, the stylus never slowing as she manipulated it with delicate orange fingers.

From the two dozen miners, techs, and soldiers that she’d hired to restore these caves, Gaetana still had about 17 left.  More than enough for her intentions.

She watched half-interested as they cautiously made their way from the non-descript, metal-lined room, through the tunnel, and into another small rock cavern.  She smiled as they paused, their trepidation evident even over the holo-image: confronting them were three tight rock tunnels cut from the substrata of the deep mines, each one only visible a few meters in before being completely enveloped in darkness.

The stylus continued to dance through and across her fingers effortlessly while she  intently watched as the three miners decided what to do.  At first they seemed at a loss as to how to continue, each one pointing towards a vague direction before growing ever more irritated before the large Togruta gained control.  Whatever he said, the two humans seemed to agree, each moving around the other.  She chuckled when she saw that each one had chosen a separate tunnel.  ...Wrong choice, you pfassks…

Reclining in the chair, she tilted her head back and laughed, a melodious and serene sound completely at odds with her devious smile and the dangerous look in her eyes.  Gleefully she watched as the holo-image split in three to follow each sentient as they penetrated further into each tunnel.  They should’ve paid more attention to those stress fractures in the floor, especially since the andesite was native to this layer…

Pressing a button, Gaetana watched as the holofeed switched from pitch-black to thermal imaging, the heat signatures of each miner now clearly delineated from their surroundings.  Tentatively, each one made their way further down the darkened tunnels, the walls becoming ever tighter.  Perfect.

...Now…! She told herself as she slapped a red button.  In the holo-image, she saw the three miners falling into the floor, each suddenly trapped in a durasteel tube they’d dropped into.  Terrified, they tried–in vain–to gain purchase with their fingers or batter at the walls with closed fists; anything to escape…

...Too late… She smiled grimly, yellow Sith eyes staring unblinking.  The three miners all went motionless in reaction to something that Gaetana could not hear or see.  But she knew precisely what it entailed and meant.  Evilly, her grin widened.  Almost as one, they began to flounder within the tubes as far as the cylinders would allow.  She saw the three miners struggling, as if they were being tortured.

Which in a very real way they were.  All three of them began to spasm, each successive convulsion worse than the last, fingers splayed in all directions in unnatural gesticulations and ways that they were never meant to.  One of the humans looked as if their spine was about to bend into itself.

As violent as their initial struggles were, all three quickly succumbed, all movement ceasing in mere seconds.  Pushing another button, Gaetana saw that the hermetically sealed tubes were unlocked from their place, an automatic conveyor belt taking each into a central chamber deep underground where they were placed horizontally on a shelf that already had several tubes atop, one that disappeared into the hazed distance of the imperfect holo-image.

Each tube had several connections that linked them to the archaic computer bank lining the shelf, the manufacture and design of which had not been seen in over three millennia.  Idly, she wondered what would happen if the “contents” of the older tubes regained consciousness…would they still be sane?  Aware?  Would they even be sentient at all?

It mattered for nothing, at least not to her.

Smiling, Gaetana nodded to herself, confident that she now had enough to power her Sith Alchemies.  Of course, she hadn’t attained the rank of High Inquisitor with “enough…”  Besides, the problem was always the inevitable loss of biofuel across the Force-body barrier.

Sighing, she punched another button, changing to yet another holoimage.  Like the previous, it showed three bedraggled, dirty, and confused sentients in nothing but prison utilities.  Better to be sure…

As she watched as the sentients bungled through the hopeless maze, the stylus dancing across her fingers never once wavered, the intricate and deft dexterity of her orange fingers soon making the stylus all but a blur in her hand.

But as unconcerned thoughts of the surrounding geology continued to sneak into her musings, Gaetana smiled, seeing her plans this close to fruition.  She felt a confidence that had long been denied her.

And–unbeknownst to her–she was not the only one.

   <<<<< >>>>>



Jorya schooled her emotions, “showing” no outward signs of how she felt.  But there was absolutely no denying it now.

She’d witnessed just how many of her mannerisms Gaetana seemed to copy, all the while ignorant of that fact.

Within Jorya’s absconded body, Gaetana’s and Kadmaur’s Mind Shards had firm control, Gaetana having emerged the clear “winner” between the two as to which held primacy.  But, as she’d noted, Jorya now knew beyond any doubt that there was a…a “bleeding” of sorts between her own personality and that of the Shards.

And that was not all…

“And you’re certain that this will work for the both of us?” Kadmaur’s Shard inquired, so unlike the man himself.  Unsurprising that; after all, this was merely a shadow of the real Kadmaur.  But given Gaetana’s more direct possession, her Shard was the one now in control.

“Of course.” She answered devoid of doubt.  “You yourself saw the two Clawdites.”  Kadmaur quieted but Jorya could tell that he was by no means completely satisfied.  Or for that matter, trusting of Gaetana.  Such dissension required effort from both Shards.

…Effort that weakened them.

So it was that a few days prior, when both Shards had been “arguing” about something about Sith Alchemies, Jorya had slowly, tentatively, and gently “reached” for control.

And for two seconds, her body had been hers again.  Jorya had remained “motionless” lest she call attention to her efforts but–and this was most important–the Shards had not noticed.

At all.

Jorya now knew that she would be able to wrest control from the Shards.  The problem was that she could not–at least not at present–maintain said control for long.  But it was becoming more and more apparent to her that the longer the three of them remained together, the more things would “bleed over” into the others.

So while Gaetana and Kadmaur played puppetmaster, Jorya slowly but inexorably drew upon the reservoir of power that she’d first learned to focus upon from Father, then Mother and Grandfather Kazic, and finally Master Gray Chillum.

And when the time was right, she would do what was necessary…

   <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG: much of this is his writing!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
*********************************************************************

Chapter 6: Captive Pursuits, part II
As the Cataphracts raced under their stealth fields over the sands the grenades timer ran out, blasting fragments of the lift down to where Kintik had been standing, Stormtroopers and techs immediately rushing to the scene and scanning the area.
 
“THERE!” Footsteps appeared in the red sands without anyone to make them, a personal cloak no doubt.
 
“Set to Stun!” The captain called as the nearest squads opened up on the path of the invisible assailants.
 
Death Troopers at the main landing area rushing to join the battle.
 
Triad Isk duck and wove through the blue bolts, the odd glancing hit taken, the Cataphract armour able to take it, but not without a numb static radiating over their skin as they tried to get up the rise to the escarpment.
 
The Troopers' positions were too spread out to overlap fire quickly; they had been placed to keep people out of the excavation zone not in.  Air support was already being called in as the Death Troopers rounded the monolithic crashed vessel that served as the marker for the Vault, their E11-D’s aimed high and fired with precision.
 
Four shots struck Sio in the back, finally overriding his armor, Zearic skidding over to help him up despite his own wounds.  Resignedly clenching his teeth Zearic let the full potential of his tainted blood help him bear his comrade and himself, a lightheaded feeling as a strength not of his own choosing or achievement helped him survive once more.  Yet it allowed him to avoid the incoming fire, a fact he was most grateful for, at least in the moment.
 
Cresting the top of the hill they had a brief reprieve, but could not stop.
 
“Beckon call active, the TIE Guardian is moving in!” Olyna called, the distance was immaterial for their ship, but it would take a few minutes for the navicomp to chart a course, precious minutes in which they would be overwhelmed by incoming TIE Interceptors.

...Speaking of... Zearic thought as the all-too-familiar screech roared from behind them.
 
Interceptors flew over slamming bolts into the ground near them, their stealth fields finally dying from overuse and too many stun shots.
 
Overburdened, wounded, and his armor now running on reserve power, Zearic looked up...just in time to see the Interceptors come round for another pass, Triad Isk's only course of action to keep running.
 
Diving to the ground Zearic barely held onto Sio, the weight of his comrade driving him down to one knee as red sand turned to glass while the Interceptors boxed them in with another run--they were not trying to kill them, just slow them enough for the Death Troopers to catch up (and they were moving in fast)--fresh and ready they crested the hill and started firing immediately while a huge plume of sand appeared in the distance.

...Get up...! Zearic commanded his body as several more blaster shots connected with his armor.  Alarmed, he knew that he was in trouble: with each successive hit, Zearic could feel the sting of the blaster shots more and more, a fact indicative that his armor was close to failure.  And, unless he could get it recharged, he would soon be all too exposed.

Regardless, he quickly hoisted Sio on his shoulders repositioning him, the very thought of leaving one of his Triad never once entering his mind and started running straight at the Death Troopers.

Roaring defiantly, his baritone shout echoed throughout the valley.

Zearic had to hand it to the black-armored Imperials: they did not so much as flinch as he barreled straight at them.  Weighing over 300kg in his Cataphract Armor--not to mention carrying Sio on his shoulders for an additional 200kg--the wide man looked the unstoppable force that he projected.  But, as he said, the Death Troopers were made of sterner stuff.

Almost as one, they spent an extra two seconds to acquire target lock on the huge armored bearded man as he ran directly as them, their E-11D’s primed to snipe him dea--

"Zearic!  GET DOWN!" Olyna's shout cut straight through Zearic's consternation and pain, his Primus' yell supplemented in the Force as well.  Immediately he hit the deck, red sand obscuring his helmeted vision as a sand storm roared to life above him...
 
...Not a sand storm, he realized, but rather the Cataphracts TIE Guardian coming in dangerously low. 
 
Snapping round Zearic and Sio fired from their arm mounted cannons at the Death Troopers to force them to hit the ground as Olyna guided the transport on her HUD¹.
 
The Interceptors were facing the wrong direction, needing to turn before coming in for another pass.
 
Dust concealing them, the TIE Guardian had finally arrived, Sio half-shambling, half-falling in first, Zearic second, the inheritance of gods giving him strength to lift Olyna up without the Force.
 
Without pausing, she rushed to the cockpit as the Interceptors turned, their cannons now set to quad link, but the dust making it hard to get a clear shot before their sensors could compensate.  Even before she was fully seated, she activated the Guardian's defenses.
 
Heaving blasts slammed into the TIE Guardian from above, but the shields held as Olyna grabbed the controls, hammering the accelerator and activating auto-tracking for missiles.
 
“We’ll round the planet in atmosphere, split the ring system and do a near-Langrangian jump from the other side of the planet,” There was no way they would risk breaching atmosphere this close to the excavation site with Imperial ships up there...even so an upper atmosphere jump would be virtually suicidal in light of the planet's mass shadow.

They would have to get at least as far as the small planet's Lagrange Point before initiating a hyperspace jump.
 
Vaulting into the chair Zearic took the gunner seat, terminals switching on as he took control of the quad cannons, seeking the Interceptors as they flew over the Death Troopers who cursed ineffectually.
 
Locked into his armor’s recharge port, Sio administered his armor’s autodoc protocols.  “Cataphracts!  We are leavi–!” He shouted while almost breathing a sigh of relief.

That’s when the ship buckled as if it had crashed.

<<<<< >>>>>


 
Kintik raged in frustration as he stood staring up waiting for a new repulsor lift or cable to be sent down to get him to the surface, the sting of his cuts starting to bite.  He would not allow these interlopers to escape!  He was not some impotent member of the Inquisitorious; he was Dark Side Elite!  Gathering the Force around him, Kintik used the fury within.

There, peering from the depths of the Vault and into the sky he reached out with both hands to grab the ship, slowing it to moving barely a meter a second, the Dark Side of the Vault flowing through him like a tide of dark oil sharpened by the pain of his wounds that he let feed his anger, focused into the single Will of stopping the escape.

The Dark Side pulsed as if obliging him, filling Kintik with immense power.  Opening his eyes, they almost glowed gold as he concentrated on his enemy.

He would get his answers...either by questioning them or examining their corpses.

<<<<< >>>>>

Even though the inertial dampeners struggled to compensate for the sudden change they were completely successful.  Sio, already dizzy from the blaster shots, smashed his forehead on the bulkhead knocking him unconscious.  Both Zearic and Olyna winced as they felt it through the BattleMeld.  Things had just gone from bad to worse, their TIE Guardian held fast in the Darksider’s grip.
 
Zearic fired at the approaching TIEs best he could, but it seemed pointless…something that Olyna could also sense through their BattleMeld.  And as Primus, it was her responsibility–hers and hers alone!--to keep her Triad safe.

No matter the cost.
 
“Zearic, get ready to take over….” Olyna said drawing the Light through her body, a soft glow emanating from within her armour.  Soon, she felt as if she were shining as fierce as the noontime sun!
 
Her teeth chattered and fur stood on end, her muscles tensing until….
 
A flare of Lightside energy burst through and around the TIE Guardian, breaking Kintik's hold, the Dark Side energies rebounding as if a rubber band had suddenly been severed. 

The ship half-controlled flung itself forward as Olyna slumped unconscious in the huge chair, the Interceptors missing their mark then overshooting as the ships stuttered then burst ahead.  And upon her face was a tired, small smile.

However, she was completely insensate.

...Oh shavit... Zearic thought as he flew from his gunner's chair to swiftly-yet-gently remove the now unconscious Olyna from the pilot's seat.  With a quick inhale, he took her place knowing that he was not the pilot that his other Triad members were.

He was confident that Olyna's flight plan was still the best course of action.  Taking the Guardian off auto-pilot, he keyed in the destination and, with a silent prayer to the Maker, counted down the seconds that it would take to reach the necessary distance to escape the planet's mass shadow.

And the Interceptors had regrouped, six of them now in close pursuit.

<<<<< >>>>>
 
Kintik growled as he watched the vessel escape yet not all was lost.  One of the troopers had thrown down an abseiling line to him.  Empowered by an ocean of Dark Side energies, he made short work of the climb.
 
Once at the top, he took off his helm and glanced at the cut on his face in the dim reflection upon the black polished kortosis alloy, noting how easily it had been sliced through...quite the dagger his attacker seemed to own.  Hopefully micro fragments could be found to determine what type of weapon it was.

But that was for later.

Running, his black boots kicked up the red sand until he was in proximity to his own personal vessel.  Again, using the Dark Side flowing through him, he made a tremendous jump, using the Force to land squarely within the pod of the ship, having just cleared the now-closing hatch.  With practiced calm, he powered up the ship from its "Loiter" status (a short cut that he was now vindicated by today's circumstances) and enabled the thrusters.

Like the predator it was, the TIE Bat shot forth, the sleek vessel fast, powerful, and agile, the Autonomous Fleet's most deadly and top-of-the-line ship-to-ship fighter.

A fact that the interlopers were about to learn first-hand.
 
He had to admit that he was concerned: while there was much Kintik did not know, what seemed clear was that these attackers were as ignorant of the nature of the vaults as he was...were they searching for them too?  Perhaps, perhaps not.
 
All Kintik knew for certain now was that Lord Sidious' guidance was vindicated, and time was short.

At least, insofar as his prey was concerned.
______________________________________________________________________
1. HUD: Heads Up Display

[Lord_S_Gray]

Jorya continues to make painfully slow progress to regaining some agency...but there seems to be a very distinct time limit/  Gaetana's plans are clearly advancing quickly, and the combination of 'ingredients' she has is intriguing (or rather disturbing) to say the least and the mention of Millenia olf occupants of sealed tubes bears more than a passing resemblenace to Kintiks recent find.  There is now very much a race between Gaetana's plan, Jorya's building her energy, and D'Alyanna (and her Hamask hitchhiker), if the latter reaches 'Jorya' and her own unwanted passengers first all Jorya and Gaetana are working on could be quickly undone...but if she doesn't get there in time then...she may find a very much worse situation - having to face a possessed Jorya is bad enough, potentially a revisvd Gaetana and Kadmaur (even if a shard of his former self,....) could only make things worse.

Meanwhile Zearic and his Triad are going from bad to worse.  Vastly outnumbered, the Triumvirate is now onto them, and Kintik very annoyed (not to mention buoyed by a well of dark side power that took all Olyna's power to break just once) and looks like we're in for an chase. 

Things are really ramping up, and a great pic of Zearic there too!

[TheDutchman]

Meh I've been having trouble posting lately.  Hopefully this will be corrected soon  
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Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part III


Battle-bridge of the ”Mnemosyne,” Harrower-class Battle Cruiser, 3626BBY, Aftermath of “The Battle of Arda”
Surveying the wreckage of the Imperial flotilla that had attacked the Ars Ingens’ fleet, Darth Obliquus perused the destruction that his forces had wrought.  The Sith fleet had been utterly destroyed to a ship.

 But there was no satisfaction to be gained; not here and not now.

This was but the latest setback in a decade of disappointments with the Leviathans no closer to finding their Emperor.  He thought of neither pretender Darth Acina nor Darth Vowrawn, the false claimants that had each assumed the mantle of Emperor in the wake of the Second Galactic War.  No, for Obliquus there was–and would forever be–only one true Emperor.

The majestic Sith Emperor Vitiate.

Obliquus’ blue cheek almost twitched.  Yes, yes, his Emperor had worn many faces and names, the most famous (besides Vitiate) being Valkorion and Tenebrae.  Regardless, whatever skin he wore, the Ars Ingens were forever his most loyal of liegemen and -women, always fighting against those who would stand against their Emperor.

Even other Sith.

Unfortunately, that meant that the Ars Ingens had been fighting a war on multiple fronts, from the False Emperors and their Sith to the ever-present thorn of the Republic.  Obliquus was not complaining but he was pragmatic: his forces were being worn down in the inevitable war of attrition that the long search of his Emperor had all but guaranteed.  And while he and his Darths possessed a mighty army still, it was markedly diminished.

After Servant Six had been rescued, the numbers of the Ars Ingens had swelled to well over 130,000 strong, including 6,000 Sith Acolytes, Swords, Lords, and Darths.  The days of yesteryear had seen the Leviathans ever victorious regardless of whichever enemy they faced.  In some cases, the Ars Ingens gained even more converts, Sith (and the rare occasional Jedi) that recognized the immutable Truth that was the Emperor.

Power.

Movement from the corner of his eye brought his attention to the present.  Obliquus noticed that one of the Terminus-class destroyers was trying to flee the battlefield, almost a fifth of the ship’s hull having already been vaporized.  Whomever was on that vessel must be incredibly brave to attempt such maneuvers in such shape.  He was almost impressed.

“Tactical…” Obliquus’ voice was as emotionless as his face.  “Target that ship.  Notify when you have a shooting solution.”  It seemed that the commander of the destroyer was intent on relying on the copious debris strewn about the AO¹ to give them cover, despite negotiating through deadly debris fields or in danger of their vessel exploding.  Clever.

“My lord, we have multiple shooting solutions.” The lieutenant crisply announced, her technicians dutifully awaiting Obliquus’ command.  This time Obliquus did feel a flicker of pride: still after these ten years his people were consummate professionals.

“Fire at will.”

Even before the last syllable had left his lips, multiple green turbolaser fire lanced out through space, the first shot quickly overwhelming the overworked shields while each subsequent shot hit true, producing an expanding spherical fireball.  As the Terminus-class destroyer’s doonium hull vaporized it vented atmosphere and occupant alike until–after multiple turbolaser barrages–the ship disappeared amidst an expanding white explosion as its reactor went critical.

Obliquus’ face remained impassive: he was certain that the derelict would take an additional salvo before being destroyed.  He suddenly felt introspective; a rarity for him.  The Terminus must have been in worse shape than he’d initially surmised.  It made the commander’s decision to attempt escape that much more brave.  Or foolish.  He couldn’t decide.  No matter; only results were important.

Which brought the reality of his situation crashing back around him.

“Captain Obeth…” He addressed the CO² of the Mnemosyne without looking at him.  “You have the Con.”  Not hearing the captain’s polished response, Obliquus turned on his heel to step off the battle-bridge and into the turbolift.  Surrounded by silence as well as the turmoil of his own thoughts, Obliquus was mildly annoyed to find himself such.  A good leader should not be victim to such distractions.

But that seemed to be more and more the problem lately: instead of results, the Leviathans were bogged down by distractions.

Even his top three Darths…

Now, yes, it was true that they had executed their offices and duty to Obliquus’ satisfaction–not to mention their efforts today–but…

As the turbolift’s doors opened, he stepped into a large room, one specifically belonging exclusively to the Ars Ingens.  Within, dozens of Sith Acolytes and Swords, Lords and Darths were in various states of arousal, celebrating their victory over the Pretender’s forces.

And it was his top three Darths that seemed to lead in the celebration.

Invidia, Sagitta, and Surdus: all three were entangled together, their open tryst not the point…

…No, Obliquus found nothing wrong in the fact that–over the last decade–they’d formed a close-knit relationship.  The Sith were empowered by strong emotions and if their passions for each other helped the Ars Ingens all the better.  Rather what galled him, right here and now, was that they should have been with him to the very last second until victory was beyond a foregone conclusion.

Instead, he found them down here, more naked than clothed, leading in this bacchanalia…

Striding up to the three of them, he knew that they had seen him, taking notice of his presence (if not his anger; Obliquus’ face was almost a constant blank canvas that had fooled many an enemy).  Yet, to a person, they all had almost identical smiles of exhilaration.  “My Lord…” Invidia’s surprisingly deep voice was incongruous with her youthful, cherubic olive face.  “You know that you are always welcome amongst us.”  She made a gesture with her finger, inviting him closer while her other hand stroked first Saggita’s lips and then Surdus’ muscled jowls, the humongous human male balancing both women on his lap.

Nothing stirred within Obliquus, even less so any biological response.  At least in consideration of their enticement.

However, the irritation that he’d felt earlier suddenly erupted into full-blown anger.

“Stop this immediately.” He hadn’t raised his voice but his tone cut through the room, everyone within turning their attention to Darth Obliquus.

Each and every one of them felt fear, to a greater or lesser extent.

Some part of his mind noticed that his three Darths were amongst those that controlled theirs best.  Again, pride in his people.  But the current situation swept the muted emotion aside.

“I will forget the faces of everyone that leaves.  Now.” He raised his voice to include the room but his gaze never once left the Darths in front of him.  “Not you three.” He commanded.

Invidia’s face looked intense as Saggita’s assumed a bored expression.  However, Surdus stood, his face an unexpected mix of annoyance and defiance…and something else.  Was it…expectation?  Whatever it was, it only served to enrage Obliquus further.

Towering over Obliquus, wearing nothing but some loose pants that did nothing to cover the lower half of the huge man’s body, he stepped to the slender man, the faded scar on the side of his face only enhancing his dark mood…and the ghost of a knowing smile.  Saying nothing, the enormous man glared down at Obliquus from yellow Sith eyes below a dark, furrowed brow.

Unperturbed, Obliquus glanced up at his Darth, conscious of the murderous precedent ubiquitous throughout the Sith Empire.  After all, it was the modus operandi of all Sith to challenge one another for supremacy, forever vying for dominance.

It was yet another distraction that the Ars Ingens should be above of and far removed, a hindrance that prevented them from serving their Emperor to the best of their abilities.  His fingers slowly closed to make a tight fist.

However, Obliquus could not allow so direct a threat to his authority remain unpunished.

Glancing up from an impassive face, Obliquus’ allowed his cheek to twitch, the blue skin telegraphing his displeasure.  It was the only warning Surdus would get.

The enormous man stepped closer, an intimidating and deadly bent upon his furious face; he must have either not seen Obliquus’ physical admonition or otherwise ignored it.  Hands the size of a Hutts balled in anger, dark yellow Sith eyes flashing.  And that almost-smile…

Pity; Obliquus like Surdus the best of his Darths.

Without hesitation, the slender Sith Lord moved, the back of his seemingly unthreatening hand moving faster than a Kodachi viper, striking Surdus in his exposed groin, doubling the man over, the glistening muscles of his back emphasized by the sweat.  Simultaneously, Obliquus used the Force to Shield the stunned Darth, effectively cutting him off, if for only a few seconds.

But during those seconds, Obliquus finally felt the quandranium grip that he usually held upon his own rage give way, drawing deeply from his emotions to power his attack.  With Surdus’ head parallel to the deck, Obliquus grabbed the huge man’s long hair, shoving his face down while bringing his armored knee up, the resulting impact destroying Surdus’ nose and shattering both orbital bones as well as the man’s face.

To his credit, the gigantic human remained on his feet, pain–and something else–radiating from his bloodshot eyes.  Growling something unintelligible, he rushed the much smaller man.

Another mistake.

With folded armored knuckles, Obliquus’ arm shot out, his strike hitting Surdus in the throat.  Had the slender man not pulled his punch at the last moment, Surdus’ windpipe would’ve been irreparably crushed.  However, Obliquus was not finished.

While the huge man tried in vain to pull oxygen through his battered throat, Obliquus brought down his armored elbow, connecting with Surdus’ head.  Unceremoniously, he crumpled down upon the deck, an ever-growing pool of blood widening around him.  Through the haze of his anger, Obliquus noticed the incredible musculature of the Darth, a specimen of unparalleled perfection.

Yet Obliquus was not finished, his conscious mind lost deep within the fury and hate consuming him.  His first kick shattered Surdus’ ribs, the next ruptured a lung, the third breaking his femur, the striated definition of the man’s quadriceps marred by the jutting, broken bone.  And still Obliquus continued to rain blow after blow down upon the huge man, his unremitting rage doubling every second, the red in his vision matching Surdus’ blood.

He would not kill the man; he would utterly destroy him, destroy those around him, destroy them AL–

Suddenly, Obliquus felt a gentle touch upon his cheek and then his other, the cool, soft skin of calming tactile comfort deliberately slicing through the rage-induced tunnel vision turning his entire world blood-red.  For several seconds, Obliquus–or rather the mindless thing that he’d become as a result of giving into his fury–breathed heavily, his entire body frozen as if in carbonite until his conscious mind caught up.

Both Darths Invidia and Saggita were on either side of him, their outstretched hands gently touching his face, their prior salaciousness all but forgotten.  They had identical looks of concern and patience mixed with strained effort marring their faces.  And, oddly enough, something else that Obliquus could not for the life of him identify.  “Please, my Lord…” One of them said–he wasn’t certain which–while the other pleaded, “My Lord, it’s not worth it…”

It didn’t really matter what the words spoken were but rather the collective tones of the two womens’ voices that served to dispel the hate-filled rage storm that possessed Obliquus.  Standing to either side, both women seemed as if in a trance, dual voices winding up, down, and around the four of them.  As it always was.

As the tranquility of emotional detachment settled once again around Obliquus, his control finally reasserted itself.  “Please my Lord…” and “He’s learned his lesson…” Echoed hollowly around him, forgotten trigger phrases a soothing balm against the ocean of fury that Obliquus normally kept at bay, a storm that contained his rampant desire.

While the soothing voices of the women continued to calm the Sith Lord, Invidia knelt at his feet, her hands cupping Surdus’ head.  Without pausing her litany, she drew upon the Force to direct Healing flows into the enormous man’s broken body.  As it always was.

A sliver of Obliquus’ conscious mind amusedly considered the irony that a rabid sadist like Invidia should have such a Talent with Healing.

In moments, the most grievous of injuries were on the mend, flesh, bone, and sinew reknitting, bruises fading.  But not all.

Nor was it “Healing” in the classic sense of the word; no, after all this was the Dark Side that was being practiced.  Instead, Invidia drew upon the three other Darths–Obliquus, Sagitta, and Invidia herself–to “feed” it to Surdus.  Again…as it always was.

Theirs was a unique relationship: Invidia, Saggita, Surdus…and Obliquus.  Yes, the other three were officially a throuple, but it nevertheless included Obliquus as well…if in a much more macabre sense.

Apropos sentiments given the Sith Lord’s emotional proclivities.

Now tranquil, Obliquus’ anger once again (and finally) gave way to passion, a lust that Saggita now sought to slake.  Removing his armor’s codpiece, he ripped the tall woman’s diaphanous robes from her body.  But it was Saggita that then took charge: pushing the tall, slender Darth to the deck, she towered above him, judgemental gaze pinning him to the floor.  Hungrilly, she grabbed him while crouching down on her knees, both shuddering as deferred cravings were attended to.  In moments, they were embracing one another, moving in unison as they felt the fatigue of Invidia’s Force Drain beginning to affect them.

Fighting against the weariness, they forced themselves to redouble their efforts.  Saggita grabbed a handful of Obliquus' hair in a vice-like grip as she beared down, the slender man’s sunken eyes staring ravenously at her.  Again, a sliver of his conscious mind noticed that Invidia had finally stopped with her Force ministrations and she too was currently “occupied” with Surdus, the two of them wrapped around each other.

Or rather, as much as the diminutive, childlike woman could with the enormous man.  Perhaps a more accurate description would be that he had enveloped the woman in his arms as she seemed to hang in midair from him.  But then, Obliquus could no longer think; in fact, for several minutes, nothing anywhere mattered…

Except he and Saggita.

In a moment of immodesty, the four Darths succumbed to their ardor and collapsed upon the other, each spent from the dual activities of the Force Drain as well as their coupling.

As it always was.

For several minutes no one moved, their languid apathy indicative of their satiated desires.

Not to mention the Healing.

“...Not so bad as last time, my Lord…” Surdus’ lazy voice joked, causing the other Darths to chuckle.

Obliquus allowed himself to feel the gratitude of the situation.  “Thank you.” He said to the others, meaning it.  And they knew it.

No one understood them; no one could.  They were Ars Ingens.

That was all that anyone else needed to know.

      <<<<< >>>>>
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1. AO: Area of Operations
2. CO: Commanding Officer

[TheDutchman]

Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part III (cont.)

Imperial Officer’s Conference Room of the ”Mnemosyne,” Harrower-class Battle Cruiser, 3626BBY, Aftermath of “The Battle of Arda”
“Our losses were minimal this time, my Lord.” Captain Obeth announced, not bothering to consult with the Padd that his adjutant tried to hand him.  The Captain was well informed about his ship and their personnel.  “Only 137 casualties, including 52 dead.”

Obliquus’ lips thinned.

True, those were minimal losses, but as he’d thought before his army could not afford them.  At least should they fulfill their duty to his Emperor by giving him the strongest force in the galaxy as possible.  Something must be done.

But what…?

“Thank you, Captain.”  He walked to the far wall of the conference room, the transparisteel window overlooking the Mnemosyne’s dagger-like superstructure. Staring at the clustered starfields amidst the ocean of blackness, Obliquus kept his concerns to himself.  “That will be all.”

Bowing first to the tall man and then the other three Darths, Captain Obeth departed, the turbolift doors loud in the silence after the large, bearded man left.

“What’s on your mind, my Lord?” Surdus’ quiet voice boomed within the room.  He’d recovered nicely, the savage cut that Obliquus had inflicted on his face almost completely faded.

Just like all of the others.

Saggita suddenly chuckled.  “Surdus my dear, isn’t it obvious?  Our Lord is worried about our army’s numbers.”  Even though she was seated, she seemed to luxuriate in place.  Fitting: even though she was fully clothed from neck to toe in black leather, the skintight outfit emphasized her buxom nature, the stiletto heels on her boots literal daggers.

Obliquus sensed movement rather than hearing or seeing any.  “My Lord…” Invidia’s deep voice was breathy in his ear, quite the trick given she was over 35 centimeters shorter than him.  “Allow me to help you and your trepidations…” Before the last word had left her lips, he felt a burning sting behind his head.

Obliquus felt the cut upon his neck as Invidia flayed a small, roughly square centimeter of skin from beneath his ear with her vibrostiletto.  But it did the trick; it helped to give him proper focus…but it also gave Invidia the excitement that she constantly sought.  Without pausing, she slipped the vibrostiletto into her mouth, swallowing the flayed skin as well as the attendant blood.  Smiling deeply, she placed a small hand on the tall Darth’s vambrace before sauntering towards the other two seated Sith Lords.

“Saggita is correct.” He suppressed a sigh.  “These pointless conflicts between the Ars Ingens and both the Republic and the Pretender’s Empire serves no point and only further weakens us.”  He turned from the transparisteel window.  “And we are no closer to finding our Emperor.”  Now that he had given it voice, the reality of the matter galled him utterly.

After all, his Emperor may be immortal but he and his Leviathans were not.

During the last ten years, Obliquus had given all of his energies to finding him.  Oh, he’d been close on several occasions–especially after he’d revealed himself in his guise of Valkorion–but before he and the Ars Ingens could offer their collective fealty, Obliquus had learned that he’d been killed by none other than the Hero of Tython.

Years wasted.

And now more come and gone.

Obliquus knew that he would have to divide his attention now between the search and how best to preserve the Ars Ingens’ numbers.

But…how?

Standing in front of his three most trusted Darths, he was about to make a pronouncement when the turbolift door slid open, vomiting forth a room-filling banshee’s keening.

“ARRGGGHHHH!” Another scream exploded forth as the turbolift’s occupant half-rushed, half-fell into the conference room.

Before anyone else had moved, Surdus was there, the enormous man catching the slender, red-skinned woman who had produced the shrieking wail.  She looked the size of a child in his bulky arms, even garbed in her voluminous robes (and she was not a small woman).  As Surdus’ meaty, heavy hands gently smoothed the woman’s hair from her barbed brow, Servant Six’s breathing seemed to calm, although her sharp teeth ground together as she tightly clenched her jaw.

“What is the meaning of this?” Obliquus inquired coldly.  He wasn’t antagonistic towards the Pureblood Sith woman…but neither was he friendly.  “Servant Six?”

At the mention of her name, she peaked through a lidded eye, her orange irises burning with an intensity that Obliquus himself was utterly convinced of: the supremacy of their Emperor.

“The…the…he…he’s…” She coughed, half-sobbing as her throat tightened.  “...He’s…DEAD!”  She finally shouted as she regained her voice.

Something in her voice sent stalactites of ice shearing down his spine.  “Who?” Obliquus asked, already guessing the answer.

Now Servant Six did open her eyes fully, staring deep into Obliquus’ own.  “Our…our Emperor!”  For a moment none of the four Darths present could speak.

“Vitiate is dead?” Obliquus heard himself ask, convinced of the truth.  But how?  What Obliquus knew–what only a scant few in the galaxy knew–was that the only way that death could claim his Emperor was if his body, his original body, was destroyed.  And he’d taken great pains to hide its location.

Yet he also knew that the Servants had an unbreakable metaphysical connection to their Emperor that even the most ardent of Sith Sorcerers failed to fully grasp.  Again: he held no doubts whatsoever that Servant Six’s attestation was nothing but the unvarnished truth.

Which left Obliquus and the Leviathans just exactly where he no longer knew…

He felt as if the entirety of the galaxy was collapsing upon him, creating a singularity from which nothing could escape.  Numbly he felt three sets of hands upon him, two sets smaller followed by an enormous pair.  Sounds absent their attendant words surrounded him, their meaning absolutely worthless.  How is it that after all this time the Ars Ingens had failed?

That he had failed?!

...NO…! His self-admonishment from the depths of his being surprised even him.  ...Do NOT capitulate…!

Mentally shaking his head, his vision regained clarity, his Darths responding immediately upon seeing his face change, his eyes focusing.  “Wait…” He spoke to all but directed his voice towards the Sith Pureblood.  “Our Emperor was nothing if not resourceful: he would’ve had a…a contingency.”  He saw Servant Six’s own gaze rise, the panic withdraw.  “Surely you must’ve heard something that would help our Emperor should such a possibility arise.”  To everyone else’s ears, Obliquus’ voice was calm yet determined; to himself he sounded as if he was pleading for an agreement.

For long seconds, the Sith Pureblood seemed not to have heard, her face a mask of terror.  But then…

“...Yes…” She said slowly, her eyes narrowing in thought.  “Yes.  A ‘contingency’ as you say.”  She smiled, the kolta-infused regrown tissue of her cheek slightly discolored compared to the rest of her face.  But her smile faded as swiftly as it had appeared.  “But I must warn you: it will not be easy.”

Obliquus' mouth drew down in a slight smirk as his other three Darths scoffed.  Surdus barked a deep laugh.  And when Obliquus spoke, his voice sounded as tired as he felt.  “Ttsykk dqqa mii xu’wttoq’l al’qwvi’baljj.³”  He sighed before speaking at his usual volume.  “It never is.”
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3. Ttsykk dqqa mii xu’wttoq’l al’qwvi’baljj: Sith for “Next time in the Emperor’s glory.”

[Lord_S_Gray]

Once more into the past of the Ars Ingens.  The Sith remnant faction has a very ‘Ronin’ like quality, utterly loyal but absent their master and wandering without definite aim seeking the needle in the hay stack of their Emperors newest host. 

The celebrations certainly show a new side to the relationship between the four key members, and how they ‘balance’ each other, notably Obliquus destructive tendencies once his ‘serenity’ is broken, it a very Sith relationship, marked by aggressive intensity, no peace only passion as per their code, pain to focus Obliquus mind when needed delivered promptly due to their bonds.

But it seems they’ve finally come to the conclusion that waiting will only whittle their numbers further, they need to search yes, but, short of becoming a military state somewhere, which would bring its own dangers and inevitable watering down of their core purpose, they will be ground down eventually no matter how they try to minimise losses or recruit more. 

So now the Ars Ingens, a contingency in and of themselves must seek yet another contingency…and surely this somehow all ties to the ‘present day’ tale of a Sith army encased in carbonite….

[TheDutchman]

Sorry for the belated post but Real Life has been getting in the way of writing (again!)
Special thanks to LSG for the Corbos bio   This chapter is dedicated to him!
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Chapter 7: Uncertainty Is The Only Certainty, part I
Bordering the boundary between the Mid- and Outer-Rim in the Galactic Northeast lay an unremarkable system within an unremarkable sector several parsecs off the Perlemian Trade Route. 

Unremarkable now…but it had not always been so.

Millennia ago, the system in question had seen the rise of an enormous army of Dark Jedi intent on galactic conquest, the precursor to the Hundred-Years Darkness which eventually and directly led to the founding of what would become the Sith Order.

A fact long influencing Gaetana in her quest for power.  While it was something deeply personal to her, she also knew it to be a universal galactic truth.  After all, she’d learned very early in her childhood that the only capital that mattered in this life was power.

It was the Truth that every Sith since the Hundred-Years Darkness knew to be absolutely incontrovertible.

During the war, both Light and Dark Side Jedi championed their respective forces that numbered in the billions as the Jedi scoured countless planets for sentients with Force sensitivities.  Those that were not were assigned to the military, swelling each army to numbers not seen since the First Great Schism thousands of years hence. 

The galactic community became a resource mined again and again for what could be described as cosmic fodder as each side threw wave after wave of sentients against each other in colossal battles that saw entire swathes of civilized space de-populated, each person a weapon to be used against the enemy.

But Gaetana had learned that that had not been all.

During the Hundred-Year Darkness, a Sith Sorcerer of profound wisdom and inimitable power possessing incredible talent named Sorzus Syn produced some of the most horrifying abominations seen in the history of the galaxy, these horrid monstrosities the newest munitions of warfare.  Here were real monsters in every sense of the word, inspiring true terror.

Gaetana knew all about monsters; after all she’d learned one of her very first lessons directly from her own monster.

As the Hundred-Year Darkness progressed, Sith Spawn joined their Dark Jedi allies against their Republic enemies, the distinction between the monsters–humanoid and Sith Spawn–were largely academic.  They sought the deaths of all that opposed them, the more gruesome the better.  The humanoid races persisted, yet…

It was only by the grace of the Force that these Sith Spawn had gone mercifully extinct during the interim.

But not the rakghoul.

Gaetana shivered, almost muttering a prayer to a Maker that she no longer believed in.  No, if there were any gods, they were those Sith that had the power to defy death.

One way or another.

Karness Muur, a contemporary of Syn, had the dubious honor of creating the plague that ultimately became the rakghoul.  And while it was certainly a success, it was not what he’d intended to accomplish.  However, it was instrumental in the realization of his final objective: immortality.

The rakghoul plague had been based upon ancient Sith Alchemies, the same majicks that allowed one to possess a host.  After all, it was the rakghoul plague that would overcome its victim’s persona, consuming what was to feed what would be.

That had been his first step.  However, it was the next phase that yielded truly incredible results.  Gaetana smirked; the Force must possess some sense of irony given that so many galaxy-changing events would so often originate in the most obscure of places.

Like an unremarkable planet in an unremarkable system in an unremarkable sector…a planet that used to be called Corbos.

And it was during his time on Corbos that Muur perfected his craft, finally solving the secret of possession.  While the rakghoul plague would reduce its victim to a mindless, bestial terror, Muur’s Alchemy resulted in true control over the subject without the loss of self. 

That had been his next step.

With the conflict of the Hundred-Year Darkness raging across the entire galaxy, subjects were plentiful.  Whether as slaves, prisoners of war, or simply a case of being in the wrong place at the wrong time, Muur’s victims were legion.

A legion that was needed as his experiments were countless, each one more horrid than the last, the results of which were even more monstrosities added to Syn’s own creations.

But oh the glorious ends more than made up for the tedious means!

Necessary for his endgame, Muur had Syn fabricate one of the Dark Side’s greatest inventions, a seemingly quaint bauble fashioned by the Dark Jedi in the form of a talisman.  Gaetana’s smirk widened to a grin.  Such power from such a seemingly innocuous trifle…

And yet, also necessary for her plans, plans that, when taken in conjunction with the Holocron of Darth Vectivus, would see herself whole once again.  Indeed, even stronger than before!

She let out a throaty laugh, the sound a higher register than her original voice.  A fact that no longer registered to either Gaetana’s nor Kadmaur’s Shard.  But Jorya took notice.

She should; it was the first time that she’d heard her own voice absent the heady contralto of Gaetana’s influence.  …Now…? She quickly thought, potential action poised on a knife’s edge…but only for a split second.  ...No…not yet…it’s not the time… Jorya knew that when she finally decided to wrest control of her body back from the Shards, she would be incredibly vulnerable afterwards, giving her only a bare few seconds at the most.  Best to make certain…

Meanwhile, Gaetana’s attention was diverted within, a necessity as she had to “speak” to Kadmaur.

“I want to know that I’ll be able to participate and complete the ritual on my own, independent of…this.” Kadmaur’s tone dripped condescension, but whether it was for Jorya or herself Gaetana couldn’t decide.  Not that she cared either way; her time with the insufferable Shard was almost at an end.

“I will be me, you shall be you, and our ‘benefactor’ will finally know the definition of true pain as I do to her what her mother and father did to me.” Gaetana answered in earnest.  After all, this was one of those times where there was no reason at all to make an enemy when having a powerful ally could be advantag–

A subdued klaxon began to sound off, the confined surveillance room taking on an abyssal hue as warning lights turned everything a blood-red pallor.  Gaetana pulled at her full control of Jorya’s body, curiosity piqued.  Who would possibly be coming way the hell out here?

Deftly, she brought up several different visuals, each holoview showing potential windows of orbital entry.  Nothing.  She wondered why the sensor drones further from Corbos hadn’t detecte–

A ship suddenly came into view, a sleek, dangerous looking infiltrator whose black fuselage seemed to scatter the light about instead of reflecting it properly.  Her eyes widened in true surprise, recognition from Jorya’s memory repository contorting her face from shock to rage to uncertainty.

It was Mother’s ship, Fenris’ Dirge.

How…how the hell had Mo…had D’Aylanna tracked her here?  Gaetana pursed her lips as genuine amazement replaced anger.  She truly was a remarkable opponent, she told herself.  It was not so much the response that would’ve been foreign to Gaetana prior to possessing the young Togruta but rather the accompanying respect.

Of course, for Kadmaur it was perfectly germane to his personality.  Or rather, his Shard.

Gaetana smiled.  Where she’d thought she’d been cheated from her revenge against the Hapan master it seemed that the Force had delivered to Gaetana her enemy upon a platter.

Perfect.

She knew what she wanted from the experience, she knew what she’d lamented from being denied the chance to have D’Aylanna’s bare throat under her hands, her fingers wrapping themselves ever tighter to slowly choke the life from the diminutive woman.

To see the fear in her dark eyes.  To feel the terror in her face.  To witness her life leaving her body…especially after what the Hapan master had done to her.

To consummate the vengeance that burned within her soul.

“The Ritual isn’t anywhere near re–” Kadmaur reminded, a gnat in Gaetana’s ear. 

She crushed the irritant underfoot.  “I KNOW!”  Her lips writhed from a gritted snarl to a determined grin.  By the Emperor’s soul, she would not waste this opportunity!  Muting Kadmaur’s disagreements, Gaetana jumped up, plans inundating her.  She would show D’Aylanna, show her who was the strongest!  She sped towards the lift that was the only connection between the winding caves and the adjacent space-berths, the Togruta’s long legs sped her towards the cave labyrinths that she knew better than her own–or rather, her original–face.  Yes, this time she would stand triumphant over D’Aylanna.

This time it would be Gaetana who would school that Hapan tralk and make her acknowledge her supremacy…

   <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT for the visual assist with D'Aylanna!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
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Chapter 7: Uncertainty Is The Only Certainty, part II

As the swirling, blue hyperspace tunnel collapsed into starlines, finally settling into a myriad points of light, D’Aylanna expertly piloted the Hapan-made Mandalorian infiltrator into Real Space, the star field eerily obfuscated by the local gas-clouds.

But there, centered in the canopy was her destination, the seemingly-ordinary planet that had haunted her dreams and her late Visions.

Corbos.

The diminutive woman shivered involuntarily, the words that she’d spoken–now memorized–burned into her memory.

At the end of the Hundred-Year Darkness
Where the Black Rains wash all away and
The Leviathans lie in wait to
Steal Life, and imprison it for the Time
Of Rebirth, the Three-Who-Are-One
Will become Two: One black, One Gray,
One whose life is Diminished; One whose death is Ameliorated
It is She who Yields; It is She who Controls;
It is She who Lives; It is She who Dies

What did it all mean?  She had tried–by the Maker had she tried!--to make sense of her Force Precognition…but knew that the precise meaning of her Vision would remain elusive until the exact second of their passing.

”Remember that the Future is always uncertain, always in motion,” Her father Kazic had taught her.  ”One should never rely solely on Visions for answers, especially when they lead to only more questions.”

D’Aylanna tightly smiled.  ...Would that I could, Father… She thought ruefully.  But answers?  No, she had none, none at all.

She felt her face fall.  No, that wasn’t precisely true.

She had one answer…

Unconsciously gritting her teeth, she focused on the here-and-now, thoughts of what she needed to do about Gaetana pushed away to the periphery of her mind.

Without pause, she plotted an in-bound course in the navcomputer, taking over manual when Fenris’ Dirge slipped below the stratosphere.  Simultaneously, she used the infiltrator’s advanced sensor suite to scour the small planet’s surface, looking for abnormalities.

Unsurprisingly, she picked up doze–no, hundreds of small mining outposts, some not even large enough to earn the descriptor “outpost.”  D’Aylanna sighed heavily.

She trusted Ralen implicitly, knew that his guesses were more reliable than other people's facts.  If he thought that her destination was Corbos, D’Aylanna was confident that she was in the right place.

But as the minutes turned into an hour, then two, she could feel the weight of disappointment and doubt begin to creep in upon her.  Perhaps she’d put too much stock in her Force Precognition.  She just had to fin–

Suddenly one of the sensors pinged, zooming in on one of the countless mountain ranges.  Manipulating the holoimage with slender, deft fingers, she stared hard at the digitized image that the computer fought to extrapolate.  ...There… D’Aylanna’s lips had a hard set to them as she piloted Fenris’ Dirge into the narrow canyons leading to a split between two mountain ranges, following the gorge into a particularly slender separation…

…Which suddenly opened into a wide if concealed void virtually hidden from orbit.  Had she not specifically been looking for it D’Aylanna doubted that she would’ve ever found the cave.  She let out a breath that she hadn’t realized she’d held.  Without her Vision…

She gave her head a mental shake.  Moot point; she was here.  And if what Ralen had told her was true–and as she said she trusted him implicitly–then she was about to enter one of the most sought after places in the galaxy, one whose import was only surpassed by its danger…

The Laboratory of Karness Muur.

D’Aylanna piloted the infiltrator slowly in, revealing past the reddish stone canyon walls a sizable hanger that already held another ship, the dark, sleek dagger-shaped wings trimmed with blue…

Gaetana’s absconded TIE Guardian.

Both relief and anxiety flooded her mind.  She was in the right place.

But why had Gaetana come here?  D’Aylanna had consulted multiple Archives and there was little enough that was written concerning Corbos, even less so the Laboratory…but what she had learned was that the Dark Jedi Karness Muur was responsible for many atrocities during the Hundred-Year Darkness.

How that in any way related to Gaetana she had no idea…

Exhaling, D’Aylanna’s face lost all expression.  It did not matter; regardless of Gaetana’s intent, this would be her tomb.  And good riddance, the traitorous former Vhal’Dan master had more lives than a Zyggerian feline.  ...She’s run out of lives…

At least that’s what she told herself.

A small, seemingly insignificant voice in the back of her head that sounded unsurprisingly similar to Kazic kept nagging her: “...what about Jorya…?”

Not for the first time, she chose to ignore it, knowing what must be done.

...Maker, please let my Shakal understand… She prayed.

Kazic had taught her that Family was of utmost importance, a fact that D’Aylanna agreed with wholeheartedly.  Which was why it must needs be her.

She absolutely loved Jorya as the daughter that she was and knew that the young woman would do anything to rid the Vhal’Dan of the threat that Gaetana represented. 

She would save the Vhal’Dan–her daughter(!)--by finally killing Darth Mendax.

D’Aylanna donned her stealth armor, the lithe suit perfect for infiltration but still giving excellent protection (if not anywhere near that of, say, a suit of Cataphract armor).  Enumerating a fractal lock based on her own chaincode, she set the ship to “Loiter” status and grabbed her heavy cloak.

Exiting the ramp, she was certain that Gaetana would already know of her presence.  Mindful of traps, D’Aylanna extended her Force Senses outward, easily mitigating her Hapan night-blindness within the lowly-lit caverns.

Walking carefully, she penetrated further into the caves, the rocky passages supported by ancient fabricated stanchions and durasteel supports, dust covering every exposed surface.

D’Aylanna took no comfort in that fact; Gaetana was clever enough to present the surrounding environs as undisturbed.  Mindful of such, she was constantly vigilant to minute changes, her hackles up.

Today would be Gaetana’s last, she promised herself.

Taking a step forward, D’Aylanna disappeared into the darkness of the labyrinth, unignited lightsaber gripped tightly in her armored hand, controlled anxiety mitigated by her sense of duty for the Order.

And, beneath that, her infinite sadness for her daughter.



   <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT(again!) for the visual assist; this art is ENTIRELY his!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
***************************************************************************************

Chapter 7: Uncertainty Is The Only Certainty, part III

“Shavit!” Zearic cursed under his breath, gritting his teeth as he fought against the controls while trying to dodge the incoming fire from the 6 TIE Interceptors.  Even as the inertial dampers struggled to compensate, the big man eased the stick with his left while keying into the navcomputer the final coordinates of the hyperspace transit.

Zearic cooly yet swiftly did the fourth-dimensional trigonometric calculations all the while avoiding the ever-increasing enemy fire, although the canopy would flash as the shields absorbed another blaster hit.  He did his best to remain calm but a small, nagging worry grew louder: he was an adept gunner, not pilot.  True, he was qualified on the TIE Guardian but it was not his forte. 

That, and he was doing what was typically a two-person job between the pilot (usually his Primus Olyna) and the navigator (usually his Tertius Sio). 

Responding smoothly to his piloting, the TIE Guardian was truly a marvel: a space-superiority fighter, it possessed all the strengths of the TIE Defender but with added survivability, firepower, and utility courtesy of Vhal’Dan R&D specifically for the Order’s Cataphracts.  In the hands of a skilled–or especially expert–pilot, it was virtually unstoppable.

Zearic was neither an adept nor an expert pilot, his flying skills basic at best.

In fact, it was testament to the Guardian’s quality that he wasn’t in worse shape, having taken multiple blaster hits, both shields and armor holding.

But six TIE Interceptors presented a real danger, even to the Guardian.

And unlike him, those pilots were highly proficient.

That’s why Zearic had kept to Olyna’s flight plan: pushing the Guardian, he’d opened the distance between him and the Imperial forces by several kilometers, the much faster Guardian outpacing the pursuing TIEs without problem.  In no time, he was slicing through the atmosphere as he did a polar-orbital exit, feelings buoyed that he’d escaped…

…Only to start at the warning klaxon, the IFF transponder recognizing 4, no fiv…6 bandits on intercept.  Imperial TIE Interceptors.  A quick look at one of the Guardian’s displays also showed an incoming Imperial II-class star destroyer behind the hostiles, much too far for a tractor beam but a looming threat nevertheless.

...Frell this… He thought grimly.

Zearic pushed the Guardian hard, the ship racing ahead of the Interceptors and the distant star destroyer, his eyes simultaneously searching while his ears anticipated the digitized ping that would mean that he was finally out of the planetary gravity well.

The fourth planet of VR-161–it had no other stellar designation–had thick, dual rings of rocky bodies ranging from dust-sized to over a dozen large shepard moonlets (relative to their parent planet).  It was the outer ring that was the effective Langrangian boundary that marked “safety” for Zearic.  Only a few more hundred kilometers and he would clear the planetary shadow allowing him to jump to hyperspace.

With green plasma lancing past the sleek daggerlike wings atop his canopy, Zearic mentally counted down the seconds as he entered the final-yet-critical stellar equations to jump to lightspeed, the inertial dampers doing everything they could all the while the Guardian evaded most of the incoming fire.

...If Olyna were on the stick, these pfassks would’ve never gotten a shot on the shields… Zearic knew.  ...C’mon dammit…

Then he was suddenly past the outer ring, the canopy showing nothing but the open blackness of space and stars.  Not even waiting for the tell-tale ping, he pulled the triple-lever of the hyperdrive motivator.

“Eat shavit!” He barked, sweat from his forehead beading upon his brow as the hyperdrive cycled up to nominal.  In the space between seconds, Zearic anticipated the starlines that preceded the swirling blue hyperspace tunnel and escape…

But nothing happened.

Zearic blinked.  ...What the hell…? He wondered, stupefied.  The Guardian lurched as several Interceptor shots connected, the shields fluctuating.  Mind racing, Zearic took action: banking hard, he turned the craft into the incoming Interceptors and, priming the Guardian’s potent cannons, led the leading TIE a bit before squeezing off a barrage of deadly red plasma.

Caught unaware by their suddenly attacking prey, the lead TIEs ran straight into the Guardian’s line-of-fire.

During the height of the Empire, Imperial doctrine had focused more on numerical superiority and maneuverability rather than survivability.  However, under the triple leadership of the Autonomous Fleet, those principles had changed: as such, all TIEs within the Fleet had been upgraded with at least rudimentary shields.

Too bad they faced the Vhal’Dan TIE Guardian.

The Interceptor’s middling shield strength combined with the surprise attack meant that they were now at a supreme disadvantage.

The Guardian’s overpowered cannonfire slammed into the two lead TIE Interceptors, their shields fluctuating wildly before collapsing entirely.  The last of the Guardian’s laser barrage tore through the TIEs, causing their reactors to go critical, propagating a pair of spherical explosions.

Zearic’s face split into a tight grin.  This he could do; after all, he was Triad Isk’s resident gunner.  Scratch one and two.

The remaining four TIEs scattered, giving Zearic a few precious seconds.  Quickly consulting the Guardian’s sensors, he saw that he was still far within a gravity well.  He knew that the planetary rings were the Lagrangian Point, so the mass shadow had to be artificial.  The Interceptors had regrouped, attacking now from multiple angles.  Knowing that the Guardian’s shields would be up to the task, Zearic took the time to line up on the nearest TIE with his cannons.  With a five second burst, the Interceptor disappeared into a glowing ball of heat and vapor.  Scratch three.

It gave him some breathing room but it was a temporary reprieve at best.

The star destroyer was much too far away for a tractor beam and he didn’t see signs of any Interdictors in the area…

Stabbing a button on the left side panel, he flew in an unpredictable pattern until the 4 innocuous drones had deployed.  Banking hard to pull attention away from what he hoped would be an ignored payload, Zearic squeezed off some more cannon rounds, not really trying to hit anything but rather as a distraction.

It appeared to work: the remaining TIEs seemed determined in their pursuit to the exclusion of anything else.  Unfortunately, it was immediately evident that they were also superior pilots.

Attacking from three different vectors, the Interceptors were now individual targets, supplementing one another without the disadvantage of grouping together.  Furthermore, their laserfire proved true, further depleting the Guardian’s shields.

Zearic knew he was in trouble: shields were already at 63%...which for the Guardian meant it had taken a lot of punishment already.  “Maker, please…” He whispered under his breath.

Whether by answer or luck, the Guardian’s panel pinged, telemetry data streaming atop the holoviewer.  ...What the hell…? He thought, giving half of his attention to his piloting while shooting his cannons.  Scoring a lucky hit, he clipped one of the Interceptor’s wings and sent it careening away in an uncontrolled spin.  Scratch four. 

Zearic knew he had scant few seconds to interpret the data.

The drones had sped away in four different directions to establish a 4-dimensional triangulation perimeter.  Once reached, their advanced sensor suites collected and correlated the necessary stellar telemetry, simultaneously locking onto the strongest local singularity representing the gravity shadow stopping him from jumping to hyperspace as well as the outer boundary of said gravity shadow.

“Shavit…” He cursed, stomach tightening.  The mass shadow was enormous; there would be no running, at least not as it was.  That meant an artificial cause.  Furthermore, the drones had pinpointed the center of the gravity well: it was coming from one of the largest shepherd moonlets in the Outer Ring.

Which meant that he first had to get past the star destroyer.

Zearic noticed that he had not seen nor heard anything from the remaining two Interceptors.  Glancing at his sensors, he saw that they’d pulled back.

…Which meant that there would be more trouble incoming.

The Guardian was an incredible fighter, par excellence…but, he was admittedly and at best a middling pilot.  He knew that the Imperials would scramble more TIEs, maybe a squadron or two that would completely overwhelm him.

He had to reach that moonlet before that happened.

For his plan to work, he would also need a bit of luck.  Pressing several buttons, one of the holodisplays lit up, the “Enable” and “Disengage” functions highlighted.  Thumbing the first of the two, he knew that he’d have to time it perfectly, otherwise…

Shaking the dark thoughts from his mind, the big man breathed deeply, ready to release his worries, doubts, and trepidation to find his center.

Exhaling, Zearic felt the tension in his back lessen before he pressed the stick hard forward, switching shields to double-front, hoping that his luck–or the Maker–would be with him that day.

That’s when the sensors pinged a new enemy craft, one that the Vhal’Dan knew nothing about…

   <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT(again x2!) for the visual assist; this art is ENTIRELY his (as well as the invention of the TIE Bat)!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
*********************************************************************************************

Chapter 7: Uncertainty Is The Only Certainty, part IV

Even before the ramp had fully opened, Kintik jumped from the shuttle onto the star destroyer’s deck.  “Give me an immediate sitrep¹!” He barked, the Dark Side energies from the tomb still surrounding him.  It was as if the Dark Side recognized an adherent, lending Kintik its strength even this far from the planet.

Good, he would need every advantage, if his last experience was anything to go by.

When the Jedi had severed the Dark Side Telekinesis clamping down upon their ship, Kintik was inundated by the resultant backwash.  Had he not been a Dark Force Adept, it would have killed him, his flesh and soul ripped from his body. 

But he was his Master’s Military Executor, the Will&Wrath of the Emperor.

“Ready my ship!” He commanded, divesting himself of the duster he’d worn down on the planet, the dirt-covered cloak heavy with the reddish dirt of the Tomb.  Checking his armor, belt, and combat webbing, Kintik strode into the opening aperture of a deadly and sleek black ship, similar to the TIE Interceptors but much, much more lethal.

Much like its pilot.

Sitting down, the seat slid around and forwards under the canopy, the twin-ion engines already primed.  Comfortably grasping the stick, Kintik brought the ship to full power, cannons, shields, and thrusters blinking “Optimal.”  With his other hand, he drew back on a horizontal handle, the ship shooting forth from its berth and into the star-dotted blackness of space.

Another innovation from the Autonomous Fleet was a splinter group from Grand Admiral Thrawn’s TIE Defender Program that had begun work on a variant space-superiority fighter, one that was even more advanced than the Defender-Elite.

The TIE Bat.

Overpowered weapons–multiple laser- and ion-cannons, missiles–primary- and secondary shield generators, with faster engines and maneuverability, the TIE Bat was the absolute pinnacle of Sienar’s TIE-line.  Coupled with the fact that Kintik was an expert pilot, the TIE Bat was effectively a death-sentence for any opponent.

As Kintik lined up in the same plain as the enemy craft, he glanced down at his ship’s sophisticated sensor suite.  Parsing the data, his yellow eyes drank in the pertinent details, giving him a very good diagnosis of his enemy’s capabilities.  His eyes wrinkled as his mouth twisted in a smirk.

Theirs would be a true contest, if the enemy craft was even half as good as the sensors indicated.

“Executor, please stand by: a squadron of TIE Interceptors and TIE Defenders are green for ‘slingshot’ scramb–” Kintik heard the deck officer in his ear, adrenaline and the Dark Side coursing through him.

“Belay that!” He barked, settling into “the zone” where his full attention was on him, his craft, his surroundings, and his enemy.  “Stand down all TIEs; I will deal with this interloper myself.” His tone was steady, not at all one belonging to someone who was entering into deadly combat.

“Good copy, Executor.  All TIEs standing down.  Remaining Interceptors are returning home.” The deck officer informed.

As if Kintik had had any doubt that he’d be obeyed.

Putting out of his mind anything he considered superfluous–like the deck officer–Kintik was now entirely focused on the fight between him and the enemy bogey.

The two fighters aligned along the same vector, each speeding towards the other in a deadly game of “Chicken.”

Perfect; he wouldn’t want it any other way.

As the targeting reticule on the HUD² locked onto the incoming bogey, Kintik’s eyes remained unblinking, fingers easily squeezing the trigger.  Green plasma burst forth from the TIE Bat’s quad cannons, zeroing on the bogey which should make it bank away.  A split second later, Kintik banked hard to avoid any incoming fire, re-vectoring the Bat so he should emerge just behind the bogey… Kintik blinked.

The bogey was not there.

With one eye on his sensors, he scanned his canopy for a visual.  Before any alarm sounded, he felt the Bat lurch, his shields able to absorb the incoming fire, his understanding almost immediate.  Interesting.  The bogey would’ve had to tank the shots from the Bat’s quad cannons to have been able to line up on him like that.

Kintik couldn’t help but smile: looks like the bogey was as strong as indicated.

While this was going through his head, the Dark Side Executor was putting the Bat through its paces, banking hard port, starboard, and pitch, the inertial dampers a half-second behind his piloting.

He would not underestimate his opponent again.

Cautiously, he pushed the Bat into a perpendicular vector, banking easily away from incoming red plasma.  Whomever they were, they were an excellent shot.

But their piloting?  Kintik grinned; he knew the worth of his own skill.  Apropos of such, he pushed the stick hard, banking the Bat through maneuvers that seemed impossible, able to line up several shots zeroing the bogey.

Part of his mind identified the bogey as a TIE Defender variant, larger, more maneuverable, yet more heavily armed&armored than the “standard.”

Much like his own TIE Bat.

However, the variant possessed the Defender’s tri-wing array as well as a longer and thicker cockpit.  Oh, it was still recognizable as a TIE pod, but had a large, jutting rectangular superstructure sticking from the back and thicker struts attached to the wings.  Speaking of, the wings were longer and sleeker by about 3-4 meters as well.  He couldn’t help but wonder what the extra length was for…

Another volley of red plasma splashed across his canopy, his shields holding.  Once again, Kintik was surprised at how powerful the cannonfire was: the Bat’s shields were at 76%.

But if his opponent had scored several hits on the Bat, Kintik had zero’d the variant over a dozen times, causing the shields to begin to attenuate.  It was as if the pilot had only the most basic of flight experience…

Kintik’s situational awareness was such that he knew that they were close to the , the star destroyer only now looming in the upper corner of the Bat’s canopy.  As he was vectoring for another flanking shot, Kintik was suddenly surprised as the Defender variant sped away under the  and past back towards the planetary rings.  There was nothing fancy, just raw speed.

And surprised he was: the Defender variant was fast, almost as fast as his own TIE Bat.

Almost.

Pressing the stick as far forward as it would go, Kintik found himself gritting his teeth as meter-by-meter his Bat crept ever closer to the Defender variant.  Yet still his enemy was just beyond his cannon’s nominal range; his fire instead lancing past the ship as it drew closer to the outermost ring.

Within seconds, both fighters plunged deep within the ring’s thicket, dust-sized matter vaporized by the shields while somewhat larger rock-and-ice fragments slid off the armor.

The real danger came from the ship-sized, ore-riddled boulders and, of course, the moonlets that were up to several tens of kilometers in diameter.  And everything in-between.

The Defender variant banked hard, keeping close to a large, craggy asteroid, using it for cover.  As his opponent disappeared behind the rock, Kintik did the unexpected: firing a concussion missile, he vectored hard opposite the enemy ship’s trajectory thinking to cut them off while suddenly appearing in front of them.

Two things happened simultaneously: the missile connected and detonated, pulverizing the asteroid and exposing the Defender variant to the TIE Bat’s targeting system.  Grinning wickedly, Kintik squeezed the trigger, shooting green plasma from his ship's cannons and knowing that he had the Defender variant zeroed. 

The first volley was absorbed by the shields…but not the second.  Kintik saw the shields attenuate, flash, and then collapse.  Now he had them.  Squeezing the trigger a second time, the Bat’s advanced weapon-system spat lancing fire directly at the Defender variant.

Unsure how much armor the ship had, Kintik fired several volleys to be sure.  Before the Defender could escape, the first grouping of shots clipped one of the wing arrays, causing it to vent smoke and vapor, obfuscating Kintik’s line-of-site.  No matter; the next volley connected along with the next.

The sudden bright flash of blinding light suffused the Bat’s cockpit before the transparisteel canopy polarized to compensate, surprising even Kintik.  As did the violently expanding fireball that threatened to immolate everything in the immediate area.

Kintik knew from the explosion that nothing could have survived that.  Well, he amended, very little…

Expertly piloting the Bat away, Kintik performed a sensor sweep in real-time 4th dimensional space.  There were several smaller pieces of debris, exposed exotic metals and vapors, as well as molecular biomatter.

But that was all that was left of the Defender variant according to scans.
___________________________________________________________________
1. sitrep: situation report
2. HUD: Heads Up Display

[Lord_S_Gray]

Two modded to the hilt TIEs battling it out, a focused Executor - the embodied " Will&Wrath of the Emperor" no doubt slightly stung (however much he wouldn't admit it) from the clash at the vault opting to deal with the interlopers himself and leveraging his greater skill as a pilot....and Zearic Vih'torr....fighting valiantly to escape using every trick and resource he had well aware of his limits but leveraging his strengths where possible....  

And alas for the Vhal'Dan, for D'Alyanna and so many others across the Gray orders...Zearic is lost...barely anything seeming to remain, just as his wife seeks to save their daughter by ending her life, the whisper of doubt is still there but fading.

Of course her pursuit is not one sided Gaetana drive to distraction by D'Alayanna's arrival (not doubt to Kadmaur's irritation).

But given their bond will D'Alayanna sense Zearics loss? Will it fortify or destroy her? of perhaps Zearic had one last trick up his sleeve?  

(A side note one suspect Gaetanas knowledges of Sith history is heavily borrowed from Kadmaurs shard. and what her/their Alchemy, might entail merging Muur and Vectivus techniques on the barren Corboa is as intriguing as it is terrifying and likely incredibly dangerous and damaging to all involved Sith alchemy is notorious for exacting a heavy toll on even the 'beneficiaries' of its art to wit Dutch's reference to the Sith Spawn of yore - blessing or curse, or both.)

Also a nice little reflection of D'Alyanna about Kazic, he truly knew some things about the dubious value of visions and prophecies in his long life....especially self fulfilling ones. 
And of course great job as always For bringing Dutch vision of a tense space pursuit true to the spirit of Star Wars to life! 

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to For Tyeth for the awesome visual assist with D'Aylanna!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
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Chapter 8: Whispers To A Scream, part I
“Shavit…”D’Aylanna quietly cursed, using one of her husband's favored expletives as darkness enveloped her, the nearest lamp sputtering out again.  Yes, her armor possessed its own illumination torches but she was reticent to so readily give away her position.  That was why she held her unignited lightsaber hilt in her hand.

She knew that Gaetana would be within somewhere and that she more than likely had several traps at the ready but she wasn’t going to make it any easier for the tralk.

A small smile spread upon her face.  ...If my Shakal could hear me now… She thought sardonically in Hapan...He’d be apoplectic at my current argot…  D’Aylanna’s Basic had always been idiosyncratic–after all, it had been amongst the last of the 11 languages she spoke fluently–and her command of the galaxy’s lingua franca had given Zearic, Kazic, and Jorya many an opportunity to jokingly rib her about it. 

Her fond smile suddenly soured into a smirk.  It was not lost upon her that her thoughts continued to stray towards better times, given her current situation.  After all, she’d come to kill her most dangerous and hated enemy.

...As well as your daughter… The voice in the back of her head that sounded remarkably like her father Kazic reminded her.  Slowly exhaling, she morosely agreed.

As 7th Speaker of the Vhal’Dan, D’Aylanna was well versed in the arts of Double Speak, half-truths, and disassembling…but she refused to lie to herself.  And as much as it may hurt her, she would never foist this responsibility upon her Shakal.  She would honor her daughter as she destroyed a most ignoble and minacious adversary.

Especially after what Gaetana had done to her family.

Even though he’d recovered, and surprisingly well considering the wounds, her Shakal still had the ragged scars courtesy of Gaetana stabbing him through his back and chest.  Thank the Maker that they’d been so close to a full bacta tank.

It also reminded her to never become complacent…apropos sentiments given her current situation.  And the reason she was now here.

As D’Aylanna penetrated deeper into the winding rocky caverns, she noticed how sporadic the metal fabrications were: one bend of the shaft was entirely made of igneous stone whereas a straightaway would be completely lined with plas- and durasteel bulkheads and decks.  Clearly the substrate had been hollowed out with plans in mind.

Regardless, the electric torches were sporadic enough that she was effectively nightblind most of the time.  To compensate, she extended her Force Senses outward as far as she dared, aware of the smallest of minutiae.

The air down here was still stale as if the scrubbers hadn’t been turned on in sometime, every surface was covered in a thick blanket of dust, and the automatic sensors that controlled everything from the lights to ambient room temperature seemed to be partially malfunctioning.

Not for the last time was she thankful for her armor and its regulatory systems.

Throughout it all she was surrounded by a constant humming, probably subvocal and beyond the notice of most sentients.  But not Hapans; their other senses more than made up for their nightblindness.

Yet beneath the constant droning hum, there was a sporadic clunking lurch that she found impossible to locate, even with the Force enhancing her senses.

To say that it was unnerving was a vast understatement.

As her senses drank in all of her surrounding environment, D’Aylanna used the downtime to peruse the databundle that Ralen had given to her and–at least as far as she was concerned–memorize.

According to his research, this was one of the last known laboratories suspected to date back to the Hundred-Year Darkness, even before the ordination of the Sith Order proper.  Several stories–those usually relegated as fanciful anecdotes or apocryphal speculations–whispered of ancient Dark Side myths.  But she knew that many myths held at least a kernel of truth…

Furthermore, if those stories were to be believed, it most likely belonged to one of the most renowned Dark Jedi (and later Sith) to ever have existed.

Karness Muur.

Thorough records on Muur simply did not exist, a fact that she was sure that the former Emperor had a hand in.  After all, wouldn’t he want to keep information about the Sith Order hidden?  Maker knew that Palpatine had done everything in his power to obfuscate his own history, especially that of his Sith lineage.

Still, that was not to say that the records did not exist, merely that they were incredibly difficult to find and access.  Hence, Ralen and his unique talents.  Thanks to her dear friend, he’d provided her with quite the dossier, information that she doubted a handful of people could claim to know.

Everything that she’d memorized, that she’d learned certainly pointed to Muur.  And then there was the fact that Gaetana had somehow possessed Jorya’s body…

…Something that Muur had spent decades attempting to perfect in his pursuit of immortality, the necessary reagents to grant life-everlasting.

Just what that may be was lost to D’Aylanna in the foggy mists of tim–

Swiftly inhaling, she felt the skin on her neck break out in gooseflesh, her ears registering something.

She suddenly turned, the amethyst blade of her lightsaber springing to life as she held it midguard, her senses flooding the area.  D’Aylanna did not so much as breathe, adrenaline pumping throughout her body as the hammering of her heart sounded loud in her ears.  She could’ve sworn she’d heard/sensed something behind her…

Seconds like hours crept by as everything came into exacting clarity, her entire being hyperaware.

Nothing; no sounds, no shadows, no scents, no subtle changes in the air.  She was all alone, a small, armored figure poised on the razor’s edge of violence.

Still: the weight of unseen eyes was palpable for D’Aylanna.

Grasping her lightsaber tightly in her hand she turned and entered a long, durasteel hallway, the entirety of which was covered with exposed machinery, pistons, pipes, and ancient holoreadouts that were only half-operable.  Glancing up towards the ceiling, D’Aylanna could see nothing; even with the amethyst glow of her lightsaber the illumination here was shadowed at best so she had to fully rely upon her superior hearing (and, of course, her expanded Force Senses).

Feeling the uncomfortable itch in the middle of her back from those unseen eyes, D’Aylanna steadily made her way forward, armored boots making muted sounds upon the deck.

That feeling of being watched refused to give up the ghost, the uncomfortable itch becoming increasingly irritating.  That, combined with the oppressive darkness, made her more than a little uneasy.  ...Damn my eyes… She cursed feeling that had she possessed, say, Jorya’s eyesight she might bett–

She was halfway through the long hallway when she heard the clanking, cacophonous sounds of machinery coming to life.  ...So here are the expected traps that tralk Gaetana thinks to best me with… She thought contemptuously.  And here she’d been expecting something more dire.

Unsurprisingly, she noticed that blastdoors on either side had started lowering, threatening to lock her in.  With her lightsaber in hand she felt confident that she could just cut through the durasteel.

Before she could take a step, a loud bang reverberated from above.  Glancing upwards, she could just see that the smooth, dark brown-almost-black ceiling was dropping towards her.

D’Aylanna smirked.  Now this was more like Gaetana, devious and ignoble.  She would have to time the cuts succinctly to thwart the trap.  This would be difficult but not impossible.

As the dark ceiling came into range, she angled her lightsaber to cut a hole from the smooth surfa–

D’Aylanna’s dark eyes immediately widened in disbelief: the instant her lightsaber touched the ceiling, the purple blade deactivated, the emitter fizzling impotently.

And still the ceiling dropped.

   <<<<< >>>>>



Rushing into the control room, Gaetana didn’t bother with any of the lights, instead activating all holorecording feeds within the corridors.  Slowly hampered by the degradation of age, the images finally materialized above the miniholoprojectors in the control room’s central table.  Multiple images soon rotated slowly above the table, each showing a different room of the laboratory.

Although the holoprojections were grainy and constantly digitized into blurred lines, their overall quality was adequate enough to easily discern everything within the framing of each projection.  As Gaetana and Kadmaur scanned each room, they “spoke” amongst themselves, the subject of which did not interest Jorya in the least.

Not at the moment.

With both Shards’ attention focused entirely upon the holoprojections, Jorya once again carefully, slowly “reached” out to test her theory.

Unbeknownst to either Shard, Jorya’s index finger began to tap her thumb once, twice, three times.  Good.

“Withdrawing” back, Jorya waited to see if her actions had gone noticed.  Several seconds ticked by, neither Gaetana nor Kadmaur pausing in their “conversation” or attention.  Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Relief flooded Jorya, buoyed by the little win.  When it came time, the right time, Jorya would do what she must to ensure that the Shards–that Gaetana(!)--would not win.

Surreptitiously Jorya brought her full focus to bear on everything that the Shards were now discussing.  And none too soon; they’d found Mother.

“...I’m telling you, now is the time!” Gaetana exclaimed.  “I’m stronger than I was, more knowledgeable, better!” She emphasized the last knowingly.  “Besides: I owe that tralk…” Vengeance bled from her aura.

Jorya sensed it as Kadmaur radiated disagreement.  “Why take the chance?  Gaetana: kill her!”  If Kadmaur had possessed hands, he would have balled them into fists.  “Use the Trap and be done with her.”

But Gaetana wasn’t in the least persuaded.  “NO!  You do not understand; you weren’t there!”  If Gaetana had possessed a mouth, she would have screamed.  “SHE DESERVES TO SUFFER!”

Jorya focused on the holoimages, specifically the long manufactured hallway that she was in.  Panic threatened to overwhelm her.  The Trap!  ...Oh Mother… Jorya thought, simultaneously happy and worried to see her.

In the holoimage, Mother suddenly turned igniting her lightsaber and looked straight ahead at the holorecorder.  Had…had she detected the camera?

Suddenly and before she could act, Jorya “felt” Kadmaur “move.”  Taking initiative of the “lull” in Gaetana’s attention, Kadmaur momentarily seized complete control of Jorya’s body.  In one swift motion, he smashed a delicate orange fist on the “Enable” button.  A second later, the laboratory’s machinery whined to life.

“NO!!” Both Jorya and Gaetana screamed, if for completely different reasons: Jorya in love and concern, Gaetana in hate and lament.

Regardless, they both knew that it was far too late to stop what was about to happen.

   <<<<< >>>>>



Or’an stared at the TIE Guardian, the knowledge that his prey was near giving him mitigated satisfaction.  Following the Speaker had been the right call.

But then, his instincts were almost always correct.

Within his chest, his heart began pumping adrenaline in response to his heightened emotional state, the muscles of his arms, chest, back, shoulders, and legs already beginning to vibrate.  All senses were suddenly supercharged: hearing, sight, smell, taste, touch. 

He could hear the minute sounds of grinding coming from below him; he could see imperfections in the durasteel bulkheads; he could smell the decay of ancient dead animals; he could taste the mineral vapor in the air; he could feel the adamantium-like hardness of his fingers balled into fists.

Deliberately, he made himself relax, lest he lose control.  As he had time and time before, Or’an sought the tranquility of his Hamask training, a now conscious control over his Tof physiology allowing him to regain his center and achieve Balance.  Within seconds, he was once again himself and in complete command of the situation.

But within the time that it had taken him to attain Equalibrium, D’Aylanna had ventured far.  Unworried, Or’an hurried along, confident that she was not lost to him, merely further within the labrithine caves than he’d prefer.  Still: he would not sacrifice stealth for speed.

Nor would he need to: he was able to pinpoint her location easily.  Good.

Wrapped in the advanced form of Buried Presence, the Vhal’Dan Hamask soon caught up with the diminutive Speaker.  Even now, “muted” as his senses were he could sense her hesitancy.  Furthermore, he knew of her race’s nightblindness as well they’re superior hearing.

Or’an almost smiled.  He was well over 600 kg yet the Tof didn’t make a sound.  Not even a Lannik would hear him while Veiled in his unique form of Buried Presenc–

He froze.  D’Aylanna had suddenly turned and ignited her lightsaber, the purple blade now pointed directly at him.  ...Interesting… He considered.  Patiently he waited, mind racing with questions; could she have pierced his Veil, did she think that she would win in a contest of crossed blades, was her reputed strength in the Force great enough to defeat him?  Now this could be truly fascinating.

Or’an’s gaze was locked onto the Speaker’s dark eyes, both the Speaker and the Hamask searching for something.

All too soon the Hapan Gray master lowered her purple blade, her eyes scanning over, around, and through where Or’an stood frozen.  Nevertheless, for D’Aylanna to even sense an iota from him was a remarkable feat.

As the diminutive Speaker proceeded within, the rocky cave walls soon gave way to a manufactured durasteel-lined hallway.  Clearly cautious, she kept her ignited saber at the ready.

Easily keeping pace with her, Or’an allowed a bit of distance between them, lest she surprise him again.

That’s how he found himself at one side of the hallway when he heard and felt the machinery within the long corridor spring to life.

Behind him, a blast door began to lower.  In the time between seconds, he decided to stay in the hallway so that the blastdoor would not separate him from the Speaker.  Besides, he had his lightsaber on his person though he was loath to use it and give away his presence and position.  No, he would wai–

That’s when the obscured ceiling above him began to drop, somewhat slowly at first but picking up speed quickly.

That’s when he noticed D’Aylanna from the corner of his eye, or rather, what happened to her…

The purple blade of her lightsaber sputtered out, disappearing.

And even as far as he was from her, Or’an saw the look of disbelief and panic arise on D’Aylanna’s face, her eyes staring at the now-useless saber hilt.

And still the ceiling dropped.

   <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT for his brilliant (and completely original!) visuals of the TIE Bat vs. TIE Guardian!  This chapter is dedicated to him  
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Chapter 8: Whispers To A Scream, part II
As the debris field continued to abate, Kintik couldn’t help but replay the last minute in his head, the Dark Side giving him perfect recall.

The Defender variant banked hard, keeping close to a large, craggy asteroid, using it for cover.  As his opponent disappeared behind the rock, Kintik did the unexpected: firing a concussion missile, he vectored hard opposite the enemy ship’s trajectory thinking to cut them off while suddenly appearing in front of them.

Two things happened simultaneously: the missile connected and detonated, pulverizing the asteroid and exposing the Defender variant to the TIE Bat’s targeting system.  Grinning wickedly, Kintik squeezed the trigger, shooting green plasma from his ship's cannons and knowing that he had the Defender variant zeroed.

The first volley was absorbed by the shields…but not the second.  Kintik saw the shields attenuate, flash, and then collapse.  Now he had them.  Squeezing the trigger a second time, the Bat’s advanced weapon-system spat lancing fire directly at the Defender variant.

Unsure how much armor the ship had, Kintik fired several volleys to be sure.  Before the Defender could escape, the first grouping of shots clipped one of the wing arrays, causing it to vent smoke and vapor, obfuscating Kintik’s line-of-site.  No matter; the next volley connected along with the next.

The sudden bright flash of blinding light suffused the Bat’s cockpit before the transparisteel canopy polarized to compensate, surprising even Kintik.  As did the violently expanding fireball that threatened to immolate everything in the immediate area.

But something didn’t feel right to Kintik and he’d never been one to leave up to chance what would amount to a mere few moments to thoroughly scrutinize the situation.

Directing the TIE Bat’s advanced sensor suite, he examined the debris field.  As the Aurabesh script appeared on the screen, he felt his confidence rise: the various debris pieces were undoubtably consistent with doonium, durasteel, plasteel, and various other exotic substances.

But that wasn’t the most important evidence.

From the propagation of the debris field and the vaporization of the ship, these facts could only be achieved from a reactor going critical and resulting in a coaxium explosion.

And then there was the atomized biomatter.

But for Kintik, even that wasn’t enough.

Piloting the Bat forward, he searched around the large moonlet that the ship had exploded near.  It was a vast planetary body…compared to his TIE Bat and even the Irkalla ISD.  However, the shepard moonlet within the planetary rings had x,y,&z axial dimensions of 3km x 1.5km x 1.9km.

Orbiting the moonlet, he sped across the rocky surface, particularly scanning the many caves and depressions along the regolithic exterior.

Yet even as he did this, he fully opened himself to the Dark Side, the powerful energies of the Tomb effective even at this range.  Closing his yellow eyes, Kintik expanded his Senses across the area, searching for the most minute of proof that his enemy was still alive.

Nothing.

Nothing at all.

Slowly exhaling, the Dark Side Executor was finally satisfied.  “Kintik to Con: mission successful.  I’m returning home.” He spoke without emotion despite a small grin spreading across his handsome face.

Now he could focus his attention upon the Tomb’s contents.

Idly, he thought that he should also congratulate General Vondhem and the ISB¹ for their intel as well as their foresight in setting up an Interdictor Base nearby.

Perhaps he would congratulate in person two of Vondhem’s subordinates…what were their names again?

Kintik gave a small nod, not requiring a Memory Technique this time.  Yes, a Lieutenant Asten Raduuk and a Captain Evecen Deus.

Feeling content, Kintik deftly piloted the Bat back towards the star destroyer (itself now returning to orbit).

Today the Autonomous Fleet would reap the rewards of its successes.

   <<<<< >>>>>
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1. ISB: Imperial Security Bureau