Dark Renascence

[Lord_S_Gray]

Credit where it is due to Gaetana - she is able to assemble resources quickly and bounce back from even death itself.  of course having no compunction using the force to mind control any beings of use probably helps with her acquiring what she needs.  I suspect for the imprisoned Clawdites the worst is yet to come. 

Nice to see a brief, if artificial version of Vectivus, a very different kind of Sith showing the great range of what 'Sith' has meant over the aeons and ironically all too helpful for Jorya's to benefit. But some things remain constant, the desire for power and eternal life. A nice call out to prior stories too, perhaps fortunate for all involved Gaetana wasn't able to find the methods Lucovis used for his own, mercifully brief 'apotheosis'. 

Curious Zearic sensed something amiss with Or'an, perhaps due to his renewal - his distant ancestor whose genes are so very potent and dangerous, after all did come from a paranoid race that were explicitly designed to detect any threat.

And D'alyanna, looking into the depths of the future, so far as is safe, as she has done before, rarely does it provide full answers for her, but each time she does in Dutch's stories the risk D'Alyanna's taking seems to increase, more broadly one wonders if there is a hidden price or danger to having such promotions, let alone deliberately inducing them, does it 'leave a mark' on ones connection to the Force, not 'damage' it but rather...alter it...perhaps make it harder to come back to the present each time.  There are some hints in her 'prophecy' of what is to come, as Dutch so eloquently wrote that could be applied to all prophecies they bring " the assured conviction of knowledge and the utter despair of ignorance"

And Or'an himself, shows that a Hamask, though nominally the 'Berserkers' of the Vhal'dan are far more than mindless killers, they are patient strategic warriors with utter focus on their goal, and cautious in their approach, thoughtful in their use of resources, he's clearly minimising the effort he needs to expend by shadowing D'Alyanna, letting her do the heavy lifting so when the time comes to unleash the 'Gloaming of the Beast' upon the target of Damnatio he is utterly primed and ready.  One genuinely wonders if he sees D'Alyanna as just a tool to his task rather than a person...but perhaps that is the burden of the Hamask, to accept the need to use (or indeed eliminate) some members of the Vhal'Dan to save the whole of the Vhal'Dan (and surely Gaetana is a prime threat), a bitter consequentialist ethic within the order itself. 

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG for his awesome renderings of the Ars Ingens!  This chapter is dedicated to him  
************************************************************************************

Interlude-The Ars Ingens, part I

Belsavis, 3635BBY
Watching from his hilltop vantage above the battlefield, the thin, tall man scrutinized the fighting below, a sea of red lightsabers beginning to overwhelm the diminishing blue, green, yellow, and purple blades even as he looked on.  Simultaneously, the Imperial blasterfire had inundated the Republican forces, sending what few survivors remained into an all-out rout.  Such news, good as it was, would’ve elicited something in another Sith Lord–a celebration, a victorious shout, even a smile–but none of that was in evidence here.

Not for Darth Obliquus.

Movement from the corner of his eye focused his keen senses towards the battlefield’s eastern flank, his Imperial army suddenly engaged in several brutal volleys courtesy of some Jedi Marauders.  He cocked an eyebrow, concern never once touching his mind.  Interesting, it looked as if the Jedi had used their Republican army units as bait.  That he could appreciate.

Admittedly he was surprised that the Jedi had utilized such tactics; in his experience, they tended to be more…sentimental than that.  It was indicative of the utter savagery of the fighting that the two sides were engaged in that day.

But then, they were on Belsavis.  Officially it was a Republic Historical Planet, site of the ancient Rakata; the truth, of course, was much more interesting.

The flow of fighting shifted as the Jedi fought furiously; now it was the Sith that were hard pressed.  He began to wonder if his forces would break, the proverbial Jedi hammer crushing through his line.  Absently, he noticed that the falling snow clinging to his maroon armor was mixed with the dark red droplets of blood.  Or perhaps it was the blood that turned his armor darker?  The ground below had certainly turned from a dirty white to a brackish-red... Ah, yes, it appeared that the first line of Sith warriors had broken against the Jedi offensive…

Dispassionately, he waited to see what happened next.

At first it seemed as if the Jedi had turned a rout into victory, the Republic troppers re-energized.  But then reinforcements arrived, two Imperial battalions slamming against the Republic forces on either side, halting the Jedis' progress in an instant.  Obliquus watched as the three Sith/Imperial contingents ground the enveloped Jedi down, the savage violence widespread.  But there were two spots in particular that he made note of…

On one side, surrounded by a growing heap of eviscerated bodies, the largest human that Obliquus had ever seen killed the enemy by twos and threes, his enormous 2 meter-long crimson lightsaber appearing of normal size when compared to the man’s massive arms and body.  Shouting wordlessly, the ruggedly handsome face was contorted in equal parts rage and cruel pleasure…apropos sentiments given the man himself, Obliquus ruminated.



Of course, Darth Surdus was made for the war that he fought, his almost 2.4 meter height was matched by the wide shoulders and broad chest underneath the hulking armor he wore now covered with blood, viscera, and dirt.  Swinging his lightsaber in one hand and projecting Force Pushes with the other, Surdus cut a literal and figurative swath through the Jedi with each powerful move.  No one could stand against the man, certainly not the Jedi and Republican soldiers unlucky enough to face him.

Yet, he was not the worst…

Obliquus directed his gaze across from Surdus’ position towards the other scene of unparalleled violence.  There, haunting stark shadows glowed from between bodies, bodies that swiftly caught fire or were thrown violently through the air as arcs of deadly violet lightning filled the battlefield, the thick plasma bolts arcing from a central location: a tall, slender woman with blonde hair and a cruel bent to her severe face.  Unlike Surdus, her lips were closed, not even so much as a whisper escaped her mouth.

Against the Jedi, Darth Saggita was terrifying to behold.



Dozens of Republic soldiers and Jedi died as they were consumed by the horrible lightning, their deaths agonizing, loud, and terrible.  The dead and dying littered the ground, the smell of burnt flesh and vaporized plasteel polluting the air as a sickly-sweet smell permeated the area.  Those that had not succumbed to the deadly lightning screamed and moaned as back-breaking pain coursed through nerve connections that felt as if they were afire.  It was more than they could stand; those still alive, those still able to move, to think, to act abandoned their allies, abandoned their senses, their only thought was one of sheer primal survival.

Any cohesion that the army had collapsed under the horrors that they suddenly faced, too many having died too terribly.  Many were cut down from behind, some from Surdus’ red blade, more from Saggita’s lightning, but not all…

…And those that had somehow survived the charnel-house that was the battleground ran away from the dual horrors of Darths Surdus and Saggita…and straight to their deaths.



Scything through the battered remains of Jedi and Republic soldiers, a dark orange pike-blade arced around a tiny woman, one whose deadly martial skill was equaled only by her rabid sadism.  In form-fitting organic purple power armor, the small, dark Lord of the Sith left no prisoners, killing even the mortally wounded.  Laughing as she used her cortosis/durasteel haft to bludgeon those too injured to escape, she took her time with each victim, the last thing each person saw was the sinister grin upon her otherwise almost cherubic, olive-skinned face.

Obliquus witnessed all with detached scrutiny, the success of their mutual venture never in doubt, at least not to him.  Ignoring the growing smoke bathing the battlefield, he ascended from his hilltop perch and headed towards his three comrades.  Walking through groups of Imperials and smaller gatherings of Sith Lords, Apprentices, and Acolytes, they one and all either bowed respectfully or gave him a smart salute.

They knew of his reputation, one more than earned throughout the Empire.  No, the galaxy.

Even during the years that the Empire floundered, finally bending knee to the Eternal Empire, Obliquus had never once wavered in his devotion to his Emperor.  He was one of the first Sith Lords to be selected into the Emperor’s newest group: the Ars Ingens.  Fanatically loyal to the Emperor, the Ars Ingens would act as his Will, ensuring that his influence would spread throughout the galaxy.  Such was Obliquus' life.  He’d risen quickly, testament to his deadly achievements, so much that he was rewarded with the singular commendation: the ability to speak directly to the Emperor himself absent his Voice.  It was as close to a glorious feeling as Obliquus had ever felt.

It was a change from the daily monotony, the numbing morass of nothingness as he finally experienced a satisfaction that had been denied him his entire life; he would now feel.  His Emperor had saved him.

But then he was killed, his Emperor…assassinated at the hands of the newly-formed Galactic Alliance’s Commander.  It was then that Obliquus felt the true stirrings of passion, of emotions.  

Of pure hatred.

Hatred was a valuable tool…but absent direction, it was so much a useless waste of energy.  No, he knew what needed to be done; after all, was not his Emperor immortal?  It did not matter to Obliquus whose face–Tenebrae, Vitiate, Valkorion, whomever--the Emperor wore.  The problem that now occupied him was finding him…

…Apropos sentiments… He mused again.

As he approached his compatriot Darths, the Sith and Imperials surrounding them made a conspicuous clearance around the four of them creating a vacant circle approximately six meters around.  One and all, they looked sideways at the four Sith Lords from the corners of their eyes, their fear palpable.  Good; the Ars Ingens should be feared.

“Lord Obliquus.” Darth Surdus nodded respectfully, his broad, handsome face not in the least bit diminished by the blood and dirt upon his face.  “If the opposition we faced here is any indication, I’m thinking that your calculations may have hit their mark.” The man’s wide face and brutish disposition was at complete odds with his articulate, posh voice, his dark eyes gleaming with shrewd intelligence.

Darth Surdus was many things, but a mindless brute he was not.

“My lord, I was hoping that you could now further elaborate upon your plans.” Darth Saggita’s not-quite-grin complimented her already vulpine features, enhancing her beauty.  She took a moment to give several of her Sith Lords a sensual smile that promised things yet to come.  It was just one of the ways in which she kept her underlings from challenging her, playing one against the others.

Obliquus couldn’t help himself from being impressed: subtle yet effective.

“Yes, Lord Obliquus.” Came an almost haughty, surprisingly deep voice from behind him.  “Do tell as to why we’re here, to say nothing of our battalions.”  Obliquus pivoted his head to face the newcomer.

Darth Invidia.

Her dark features were utterly enticing…well, to those who felt emotions.  As the small woman walked towards them, she exaggerated the sway in her hips, a fact that Sith and Imperial alike took notice of, several now with a kind of hunger in their eyes, subservient to her intent.  Fools, yes complete fools to think that Invidia would ever be so…transparent.

Or genial.

The small Sith Lord ambled up to Surdus, looking almost ridiculous compared to the absolutely massive man.  But–as with all of his three Darths–Obliquus knew looks to be deceiving.  Dispensing with the remainder of his contemplations, he gathered the members of the Ars Ingens to him with an inclination of his chin.  Dutifully, the three of them drew close.

“I believe that I’ve finally found a link to our Emperor.” His voice was calm and deliberate as if he weren’t making a declaration most monumental.

They were good: none of the three showed the shock they invariably felt upon their faces.  Within the Force, that was something else entirely…although Obliquus doubted that most Sith would’ve discerned anything amiss.

However, he was not “most” Sith.

“Within the Tomb, my lord?” Surdus deduced, arching an eyebrow, crossing his enormous arms in front of his deep chest.  He was quick, Obliquus had to admit.  The fact that the planet was secretly used by the Republic as a prison planet was not at all common knowledge.

“Of course my dear Surdus.” Saggita purred, laying a hand upon his thick armored vambrace, a look of appreciation now radiating from her.  And looking from the corner of her eye, she could see that several of the surrounding Sith looked conspicuously elsewhere, anywhere but at her.  But they had been.
 Clever, that would keep the slowest of Sith Acolytes away.

Of course, if they thought that Saggita needed Surdus for any kind of “protection” then they deserved the horrible deaths that she would visit upon them…

Wiping her hands together as if to clean them, the small woman scoffed.  “If the prison was our target then why did we engage in this ground action with the Jedi and Pubs?” Invidia seethed, although she mitigated her tone enough so as not to be blatantly disrespectful.

She was no fool; she knew better than anyone the scope of his power.

Patiently, Obliquus waited until he knew that he had their rapt attention.  “For our purposes, we need the prison emptied, or as good as.” He said by way of explanation…which the other three noticed had not precisely answered their questions.  Nor would he.  At least not yet.  “Gather your forces.” His announcement was met with stoic calm and determination.

As he knew they would; he’d personally chosen them for the Ars Ingens would only comprise of the best.  Even as they maneuvered as all Sith did, his Darths would never do anything to compromise the Ars Ingens, their allegiance absolute.

After all, they’d seen the consequences of those that had failed Obliquus.

He donned the simple yet effective cortosis helmet that he insisted all members of the Ars Ingens wear.  Such a simple gesture for such a prodigious declaration… He decided it fitting, especially after so many failures.  But that changed, this day, in this place, now.  Suddenly, he felt a sliver of emotion, noting the rarity in an eidetic memory for future perusal.  ...Apropos sentiments… He considered, reflecting on the past.  But only for a second, especially given his pronouncement, eliciting within him something akin to...could it be...excitement?  Whatever it was, he could tell that his Darths felt it.  So then, let the flame become an inferno...

“Today marks the day of our Emperor’s rebirth.”

[Lord_S_Gray]

It's no surprise that the 'Eternal Emperor' would have various task forces and contingencies in place to ensure his survival, after all he was obsessed with immortality (ref Nahema ritual) and founded multiple Empires, not just the Sith of the 3600BBYs but the Eternal Empire under the face of Valkyrion on Zakuul as essentially just another 'back up' plan. Indeed an order of Sith dedicated to seeking his reborn form out would be least of his contingencies scattered across the galaxy over his millennial reign(s) in different forms.

And these particular Sith seem to mix the brutal unrestrained martial prowess to find any rebirth anywhere it might appear, seemingly the only thing stronger than their drive to find their Emperor is the viciousness with which they dispatch any who stand in their path.

Presumably these Ars Ingen did not quite succeed, or at least not to a scale that caused another 'Empire' like those Vitiate seemed to like to rule to be born, though they obviously don't know that yet, but that doesn't mean they didn't survive or achieve something else entirely or set schemes in motion for perhaps their Emperor's Renascence.... 

The true question is how does all this fit into the wider narrative of the Vhal'Dan and indeed the Triumvirate, let alone Gaetana/Kadmaur/Jorya?

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG for his contributions to this story!  With minimal editing, most of this is his writing    This chapter is dedicated to him!
****************************************************************************************************************

Chapter 3: Myths, Legends, and Lies, part I
“And that is as precise as you can discern?” Admiral Sarna Mercet observed the very wide search area on the tac-map, a mix of blue and green lines.  The blue was a holo projection of date Imperial Naval Star Charts charted by the Imperial Astronaviagtional Authority back dated for best confidence positions 3000 years, the green a simulation of just one of the locations deciphered from the Sith Wayfinder.
 
The small office adjacent to the Gehenna’s Archaeo-labs was completely dark apart from those beams of crisp light, yet Mercet could feel the sneer on her Senior Professor's face.
 
“The Wayfinder was designed to be used with charts of the Sith Empire of the era, they used a completely different fundamental positioning Zero point we can only approximate, and the Wayfinder itself was designed to be unlocked by one possessing an Illuminatrix and detailed knowledge of Pre-Hyperspace War Sith Ciphers.  It is a feat of genius that I was able to garner this much,” Evelyce Deus was typically arrogant, clipped and fast in her words, Mercet allowed it as to date the comparatively younger woman had never erred in her conclusions of anything brought to her, and provided many fascinating insights and suggestions for Mercet’s own collection of antiques.
 
It still represented several dozen systems that would need to be searched, and in a far flung region within the Unknown regions near Chiss Space, very far from the Old Sith Empire that had created the wayfinder…but then where better to hide something.
 
“Understood,” Mercet replied evenly gliding her hand over the light switch to bring the room back into view.  Typically only used for staff meeting Professor Deus seemed to occupy three quarters, a good 15 cm taller than the 162 cm tall Mercet, Deus with crimson hair and sharp alabaster features had a commanding presence, as if worlds ought to revolve around her by right of birth, inevitable when she hailed from a Corporate Sector Plutocracy family whose surname "Deus" meant "God" in many ancient Basic Variants.
 
Why Deus, and indeed her twin brother Captain Evecen Deus of the 31st "Marauder" Special Forces Commando Squadron aboard the Gehenna had ended up in the Imperial Academy, then transferred to the Xeno-Archaeological Branches was something Mercet had never quite figured out.  The only whisper of credence was the Deus family had fallen from the heights of Corsec Plutocratic Society and into the Empire when business fortunes soured, the children with enormous chips on their shoulder forced to seek position by merit rather than money.
 
“Have you translated any more of the surrounding text with certainty?” unobservable with the naked eye, scans had shown etchings along the pyramidal sides contained High Sithar’I script in a curious dialect specific to one of the outer Cantons of the old Empire.
 
“The refrain, repeated on each edge is now confirmed to read 'With the Awakened One to Rise, Master of the Universe, His New Domain to Forge.'  Awakened one is an uncommon, but not unknown euphemism for the Emperor Vitiate, or Valkorion, the rest seem to refer to the name of specific, ‘Phalanxes’ and their attributes…” Deus twisted her hand round swiftly bringing up an image of the way finder projected from a tiny emitted on her silver and white analytical multi-gauntlet.
 
Phalanx of the Unbroken Gaze, Subaltern of the Leviathans, 10,000 Eyes Watch ceaselessly for the Awakening, Blind the Enemies of the Glorious One with your Spears of Illumination, by the Second Turning of the Empty Caverns Broken Side Manifest Renew Renew was the Basic translation beneath the bladed Sith text.
 
“As is obvious, until we obtain more samples of this dialect we are left with imprecise gibberish in sections.”

Mercet's eyes scanned the holodata and the corroborated astronavigational galactic positions represented by the red points scattered around the galaxy.
 
“We certainly cannot send probes to that many systems, that distant,” Mercet added, her pose contemplative index finger poised on her lips.
 
“There may be digital star maps and data from that era in other archives,” Deus suggested, “Many of course are inaccessible due to the war, however the Navigators guild house on Empress Teta remains under Moff Brill.”
 
Once more Deus proved a useful source of information, but Mercet had no desire to deal with the increasingly twisted Brill, more subtle agents would have to suffice.
 
“Prepare briefings on what our agents will need to look for,” Mercet ordered, “Three hours.”

Turning on her heel, the admiral left the department, her thoughts focusing on a few of the translated words: "Phalanx," "Leviathans," "Awakening," "Second Turnings," and "Renewal."  Idly she wondered what Kintik would deduce from the translations, knowing that the Dark Side Executor was surprisingly well-read and even knowledgable of ancient esoteric texts.

Her comms pinged, recalling her from her ruminations.  "Mercet." She said in a clipped, polished tone. 

"General Sed Vondhem, ISB¹.  Excuse me admiral, but you ordered my adjutant to contact you should anything arise."

"Of course, general.  Proceed." Mercet felt the kick of adrenaline as she listened, her legs quickening as she increased her stride.  It seemed that for the second time their efforts had borne fruit.  Nevertheless, she tempered her excitement, knowing that such times were also usually accompanied with unexpected consequences...
 
           <<<<< >>>>>
 
Triad Isk
Primus: Maenowan Olyna Ve'Reen/command, Shifalan female
Secundus: Silver Knight Zearic Vih'Torr/demolitions, human hybrid male
Tertius: Koawan Sio Harwic/slicer, human male
*****************************************************
Everything was a shade of crimson on the nameless world in a system known only as "VR-161" somewhere South-East of Csilla and South-West of Bastion.
 
Crouched behind a bulbous fungal outgrowth the size of a small freighter Zearic surveyed the only object of interest on this otherwise bleak planet: the eroded tip of some ancient vessel jutting from a sand filled basin kilometers wide.
 
The Advanced Sensory suite within his Cataphract Armour magnified the rounded edges of the metal skeleton of the ship, dulled by countless centuries of erosion, the occasional sand-lizard poking out to snag minute insects with pink tongues.  The magenta hued star beamed on the Tidal locked day side, distant enough--if only just--to make the temperature tolerable without using the suits inbuilt thermoregulation module that would cause a power spike.
 
“Still nothing?” Sio asked hunkered in the shade of the fungal reef, the younger human considered but not cautious, a good counter to their Primus Olyn Ve'Reen who had a bold streak, and Zearic as Secundus made a good middle ground between them.

As was fitting for a Triad.
 
“Same lizard I think.”  They had been there nearly 3 days of a five day mission to "Observe and report."  Zearic felt a probe droid might’ve been a better option, but Alcyorr himself wanted "boots on the ground," the Cathar Triarch always believing nothing could substitute for a sentient in the field.
 
The Unknown Regions were an astonishing place, replete with wonders like the Vhal’Dan homeworld of Zonama Sekot, a living world that could travel in hyperspace, advanced mysterious civilizations like the Chiss and Killiks...but also dangerous plagues upon civilization.  The reason, Zearic thought, the Unknown Regions remained unknown was because so few who ventured too deep in never returned, those that did came back with horrifyingly fantastical stories that deterred even those more curious from venturing in.   But more dangerous--if history was any guide--was what could come out of those Labyrinthine star lanes.
 
The Ferroans of Sekot told hushed tales of nightmarish creatures that possessed the soul, raging giants, vile chthonian entities, plagues of mindless hordes and beings devoted to Dark gods.  Much was mythology but the Vhal’Dan took the core of it--that there were real dangers out there--very seriously.

And that was before the Hapan-Vhal'Dan War.
 
Every system and sector around Sekot had carefully placed probes, silent and observational, activating only in response to unusual stimuli...just like the type that had led them here.

Introspective, Zearic allowed himself to reflect upon their meeting at the Den.
 
The briefing room was collegial as Triad Isk had joined the Triarch along with Triads Dorn and Nern for the briefing from Vhal’Dan intelligence and Navy.
 
“Three weeks ago a vessel with mass estimated at almost a trillion kilograms appeared in System VR-122 Klasse Ephemora Sector, it was there for three days them left.  It arrived in System VR-128 the next day, again there for a few days then left,” Deputy Head of intelligence Moloth Bandaar, a tall Myke with a gaunt face and ever moving dark purple eyes beneath greying brown hair activated the tables central holograph showing the course of this large vessel.
 
“It appears to be surveying every system in a region, our passive probes are not equipped to perform scan necessary to discern its size or type, but it is much greater than the mass of an Imperial Super Star Destroyer”
 
Given what they'd seen on the holovid that was a concern.
 
“It is currently at VR-149, our predictive models have determined its three next most likely locations as VR-152, VR 153 and VR-161, where you will be deployed in turn,” he gestured to the Cataphracts, all in their normal robes, the room hardly fitting that many tall and broad beings in let alone with their expansive thick armour on.
 
“This could be something, or it might be nothing; a mining colony-vessel seeking rich finds, an exploratory vessel from the Unknown Regions, possibly even a Chiss Dreadnaught, they occasionally send scouts this far.  Regardless there is a method here, and while we do not wish to intrude on 'neighbours’ privacy, a vessel larger than a super star destroyer searching for something is itself worth investigating.”      
 
Alcyorr had then nodded his assent, content to allow the Intelligence office to direct the next moves, though why the Cataphracts and not a more nimble, and certainly more stealthy, scouting force had, on reflection, made Zearic realize there were details that were not being shared to the Triads.
 
Regardless he trusted in the Triarch that had there been anything of import they would’ve been informed.
 
With a sigh he crouched back behind the fungal reef with Sio as nothing continued to happen on the red coloured sands.
 
“So,” the Koawan asked, “Sabacc or Pazakk?”   
 
          <<<<< >>>>>
 _______________________________________________________________________________________
1. ISB: Imperial Security Bureau-an internal security and intelligence agency of the Galactic Empire.

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT for his awesome rendering of Zearic!  This chapter is dedicated to him 
**************************************************************************

Chapter 3: Myths, Legends, and Lies, part II
A gnarled brown wooden mansion was an odd jewel to the eight sided tower, built in the image of a Navigators compass in the heart of Cinnagar.  The capital of Empress Teta, or Koros as it was known when the Mansion of wood was newly build for the Navigators Guild, was reeling under the increasingly despotic rule of Moff Foga Brill, after the failure of Operation Shadow Hand it was said the already "spiritualist" pessimist had fallen deeper into twisted Dark Side belief.
 
His so-called Constitutional Protectorate of Prakith barely held sway here, the Moff, rumour had it, had become increasingly paranoid and isolationist.
 
Lieutenant Asten Raduuk of the Imperial Security Bureau operating within the Autonomous Fleet Triumvirate paid attention to such rumours, listened closely as they walked the cobbled paths of the narrow streets of the capital in formation after landing at an outer bay in a single Lambda craft.
 
Insertion had been a simple enough affair, access codes and officer permissions that had been suspended between Remnant--my how he hated that word--factions were removed during Operation Shadow Hand and many had not been reinstated allowing imperial officer their rank based privilege to move unencumbered amongst, what to him, was still the Empire.
 
Yes the Emperor may be gone, but the Empire remained, the Bureau remained, even in "exile" from its headquarters and lacking central co-ordination.  It needed only agreement of the fractious Moffs to reunite, and Raduuk firmly believed, that the Triumvirate along whom he operated (remaining of course an agent of the ISB) offered an excellent example of how the Empire should be organized.   
 
“This is the place,” his escort noted, Captain Evecen Deus of the Marauders had been tasked by Admiral Mercet personally to provide security, the tall officer had sharp patrician features that contrasted Raduuk’s own more rounded visage directly, and quite pale skin compared to Raduuk’s honey brown.
 
Deus looked around noting among this area of the city there was little activity at all and less security, tourism was gone entirely, and the populace at large were unwilling to step outside and risk the ire of the roving "Red Police" of the Church of the Dark Side.
 
It was a strange infiltration, as in truth they were not disguised at all, Deus and his Marauders in typical Storm Trooper rather than Death Trooper gear of course, but Raduuk and his three adjuncts wore their normal uniforms, Imperial garb seemed to provide no cause for suspicion here.
 
“It is,” Raduuk confirmed.

Deus, green eyes narrowed scanning the empty streets, cluttered on every side by the faded grandeur of un-maintained facades of old woods and steel, now merely frontages for towers behind them, while the rest of the city sank; in every sense of the word, the ground seeming to groan under the weight of "newer" buildings, long cracks on anti-Imperial graffiti crawled retaining walls, it seemed, only the Old Guild Mansion had been raised up to the stars whose knowledge it held.
 
“We will secure the area, do what you need to, check in 2 arns.”  Raduuk nodded and the troopers dispersed around the Guilds entrance, the Statue to Lost Navigators once so prominent now a toy beside the vast tower that boasted many docking bays, landing platforms, and computer server databases to store navigational data from any willing to donate it, once a haven for travelers and explorers.
 
In faded gilded words over the cavernous street level mouth was the Guilds Motto: “Upon Unknown Paths we Find Our Place.”

...Ironic... Raduuk thought as he strode in, the words somewhat haunting to him.  Regardless of his unease, he had a job to do.  He would get General Vondhem the intel he required, for the ISB.

For the Empire.
 
          <<<<< >>>>>
 
They were professional, fast, and coming a damn sight too close for comfort, putting an end to both their Sabacc game as well as their waiting.

Something that Zearic was suddenly regretful for complaining about.
 
Six hours earlier they had detected their arrival in system, 30 minutes later the first fly-by of TIE Interceptors with scanning equipment.  A second fly-by 45 minutes later told Triad Isk, who had by then retreated to the calcified fungal cavern some 6 klicks from the only non-natural landmark, that these were not sloppy overconfident Imperials, but a cautiously aggressive force.
 
A final fly-by was followed by the landing party, the Vhal’Dan’s four insect size drones half buried in the red sands observing how Escorted Zeta landers first dropped off Storm Troopers with heavy environmental survival backpacks and Orange shoulder pauldrons on the rises around the ancient crashed star ship.  The shock troops securing and sweeping the immediate area for just over an hour before vessels were brought near the crashed vessel itself, the Interceptors continuing regular flyovers.
 
“This is a long way out for the Empire…” Olyna noted.
 
“With the number of factions they’ve divided into nothing would surprise me,” Zearic replied squinting on the grainy image from the Insect Drone closest to the ship, their TIE Guardian featured only one view screen linked to the drones transmissions, limiting his ability to observe them. 
 
Sio had signaled Command but they were yet to receive a reply, so for now they merely watched and waited.
 
So far in additional to securing fixed positions with mounted weapons at six points on the ridges surrounding the crashed ship, the Imperials had also set up Energy-fences around it at a 20 meter radius, the troops assisting lowering out 4 AccuTronic B-1 worker droids, attaching what had to be excavation tools to their multifunction elbow sockets.
 
A final Zeta now landed, Zearic zooming in to the maximum of the tiny drones ability, with the highly pixelated view  he could only just make out the mark of armour of the new arrivals.
 
“Death Troopers…this is a serious search party…” A small group of half a dozen in less armoured humanoids in enviro-suits followed them, in addition to the standard Imperial "cog wheel" insignia on the left arms was another similar round one with a three-pointed star variant on the right Zearic didn’t recognize.
 
“Unique insignia, not Pentastar…but can’t say I’m up to date on all the factions,” he stood to allow the others to get a look, the small comms and workshop room which would be cramped with even one Cataphract was positively claustrophobic with three.
 
“I don’t recognize it either…” Sio noted, the studious younger man usually keeping well informed of the events of the Civil war.
 
“Odd considering the vast resources they possess,” Olyna added now leaning in after Sio, “They appear scientists and tech staff…” She watched as they positioned their droids following scans with hand held devices likely some kind of Ground Penetrating Radar.  “…they are looking for something specific, operating at a steady pace.” She observed.
 
“The question is…” Zearic murmured arms just able to cross his armoured chest, “…does it pose a threat to us?”
 
The Vhal’Dan had no interest in engaging against any of the Empire's factions, whatever the previous antipathy as a result of the Inquisition's desolation of their colony on Kewda, the practical and political reality meant there was no point pursuing a vendetta or antagonizing them.

Especially with the Hapes Consortium already gunning for the Order.
 
So long as whatever the this Imperial faction desired here was of no threat to the Vhal’Dan, there was no reason to become involved.
 
Sio swung round as an alert buzzed on his hip, reading the short burst text from the Cataphracts QEN²: it utilized pairs of particles that are linked on a quantum level; any effect on one particle is mirrored instantaneously by the other, regardless of the distance between the two, allowing almost undetectable instantaneous communication. The disadvantage was of course being so closely paired it could normally only connect two users at any given time.  To counteract this all Triad QEN comms were linked to a central hub located on a small planetoid on LV-8219 where the Entangled pairs of all the QEN comms resided.
 
A simple Virtual interface nicknamed "QEN-y" could then transmit the message received on one pair to another recipient or indeed the whole network, the QEN Comms devices entrusted typically to the Tertius of each triad, though senior members had their own, the manufacturing of linked particle pairs a delicate and difficult process limiting their number to only a few dozen.
 
“Command says continue observation, check in every 2 hours.”
 
There was hardly anything else they could do, the TIE Interceptors sweeps were coming now every 20 minutes, and there was likely at least two larger vessels in orbit in addition to the one they initially detected.
 
“Let us hope these Imperials leave as swiftly as they arrived,” Olyna noted.

Zearic nodded but wasn't about to count on it.  Looking from the corner of his eye, he noticed that both Olyna and Sio felt the same.  Silently, he said a prayer to the Maker...

...And checked all of his weapons.

As his fingers absently stroked the hilts of his Oblivion Daggers, he hoped that D'Aylanna was having better luck than he was.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
2. QEN: Quantum Entanglement Network

[TheDutchman]

Chapter 4: Bread Crumbs, part I
Exiting the hyperspace tunnel, Fenris’ Dirge re-entered Real Space above a bloated, green gas-giant, the noxious atmosphere shining like a toxic, sickly jewel amidst its orbital making the black of the surrounding space that much darker…but for one conspicuous exception: an urbanized, heavily industrialized moon the size of many planets.  It was this ecumenopolis that the stealthy vessel sped towards, soon joining the crowded space lanes into the upper atmosphere.

Nar Shaddaa.

Making its descent through the polluted atmosphere, the Mandalorian Infiltrator smoothly cut through the skylanes, its sleek, dangerous hull diffracting the constant light coming from the oppressive, unbroken cityscape below.  It was not the first time that D’Aylanna had been to Nar Shadda–indeed she was very familiar with her current environs–but every other time she’d been there she’d had her Shakal with her.  …Never enough time… She thought wistfully.  Determined, she prepared to land.

With D’Aylanna as the lone occupant at the controls, the graceful lines of the vessel were equaled by her piloting, easily transitioning from skylane to landing berth, electro-landing clamps securing the craft as the lift sank into the docking bay.

By rote she donned her armor, the lithe plating reinforced by a strong nano-weave, ideal against blasters as well as blades.  As stealthy as it was, her armor was neatly hidden beneath her dark, gray robes, perfect for blending into the crowded thoroughfares of Nar Shadda’s streets. 

Taking a page from her Shakal, she first buckled on a holstered blaster at her hip, quickly followed by several vibroblades in her armored boots and vambraces.  She then attached a total of 6 variable grenades about her armor, inconspicuous to the casual observer.  With a mini-holdout blaster secreted in the underside of each vambrace, D’Aylanna finally clipped her lightsaber to her belt.

Now she was ready.

Making her way into the Infiltrator’s cargo bay, she thumbed a button on her vambrace, opening the ramp.  Before it had even fully extended to the deck, D’Aylanna had hopped off, heading directly to the large, red Nikto already on-deck to collect “fees.”  He was almost the size of her Shakal.  Almost.  Standing her full height, the top of her hooded head barely reached his rotund chest, the size disparity almost comical.

Her tone, however, was anything but.

“You will look after my ship as if it were your boss’s.” With a dangerous glint in her dark eyes, she used the Force, pressing against the Nikto’s mental barriers and effortlessly batting them aside.  “I’ve already paid all ‘tributes,’ including the ‘loitering fee.’”  Involuntarily, she touched her lightsaber hilt with her left hand, her right easily resting on the butt of her blaster.

Not that she needed either of them.

“I’se lookin’ af’tr yer sh’p.  You’se alr’dy paid.” He intoned almost sluggishly in his thickly accented Basic as his heavy shoulders slumped, his black eyes glazing slightly as the Force Suggestion took firm root in his mind.

“Your master will be pleased.” D’Aylanna said offhandedly as she scanned the entire complex, eyes scrutinizing the multilevel balconies of the landing docks.  They were alone.  “What’s your name and which Hutt do you work for?” She asked slightly more interested, looking directly at the Nikto as she walked.

“M’master’ll be ple’s’d.  I’ms Mek Hapta.  Da Hon’r’ble Kajidic Gllagiosh the Agile.” He walked a meter behind her right side, assuming a protective stance.

As if D’Aylanna needed that either.

“‘Gllagiosh the Agile?’  Now that would be something to see.” She had a ghost of a smile upon her lips.  “Thank you, Mek.”  She lightly touched the Nikto’s beefy forearm, fortifying the last of her Force Suppression as it locked firmly into place within Mek’s mind.  “I shall return shortly.”

“Y’s m’str’ss.” He dipped his chin, touching his thick neck.  “You’se g’nna r’turn soon.”

Satisfied, she deftly slipped a 500 credit chit in his massive palm before pulling her hood tighter around her head, leaving through the nearest blast door and through the semi-circular hallway and, finally, the main thoroughfare before disappearing amongst the crowd as she waded into the Nar Shaddaa throng of beings.

Yet even unknown to her, there was one who knew precisely where she was…if not exactly where she was headed.  Yet.

But he could always find her.  Always.

   <<<<< >>>>>

Completely unseen, the gigantic Hamask made his way from his hiding place within the hold of Fenris’ Dirge and through the closing ramp to silently shadow one of the landing struts while the 7th Speaker easily worked her Jedi Mind Trick on the local “constabulary:” a large Red Nikto, dangerous to be sure and intimidating enough to ensure that all tribute is collected…

But nothing compared to a Hamask.

Or’an was over twice his size, not that the Nikto would ever see him.  Besides, he was not the Tof’s target.

No, the Nikto was safe, at least from Or’an.  As was D’Aylanna…unless she got in his way.  It was Jorya Vih’Torr whom he’d declared “Damnatio.”  While she’d completely disappeared, the Hamask felt that the best way to find his target was through the 7th Speaker.

And his instincts had always served him well.

Wrapping himself in his unique form of Buried Presence, he breathed deeply, his incredible olfactory senses able to separate every single disparate scent, locking onto the 7th Speaker.  She could go anywhere on Nar Shaddaa and he would be able to find her.

Jumping easily over the landing bay’s bulkheads and over the balconies, the Hamask kept a vigilant eye over the throng of sentients, flows of people like currents ebbing to and fro throughout the overcrowded streets, buildings, and vehicles.  And there half a kilometer away, the 7th Speaker glided through the mass of persons that seemed to part before her.

It was quite the trick, Or’an admitted to himself.  She wasn’t using the Force or any weapon, yet people moved for her.  He smiled knowingly.

At 1.5 meters, D’Aylanna was less than half his height but the force of presence that the Hapan master demonstrated…

Again, he wondered how she’d fare against him in a contest of martial skill… Surely, she would last longer than any other opponent he’d faced.

Of course, he was certain of victory; not as a byproduct of ego but rather out of immutable historical provenance: in all of his experience, he’d never come across anyone or anything that presented him with what he’d consider a challenge.  He was Hamask; that was all that there was to it.

He was Hamask.  And his judgment was absolute.

          <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to LSG; with minimal edits, most of this is his writing    This chapter is dedicated to him!
************************************************************************************

Chapter 4: Bread Crumbs, part II
Heavy black boots with Ditanium Tread sunk slightly into the crimson sands of the scarlet world.
 
Darkside Executor Kintik looked up at the erosion rounded skeleton of the ancient vessel that protruded as if a monument to Civilizations folly from the red sands as the strange sun cast a pink dusk over the planet
 
He had already been en route to the small slice of the Unknown Regions, taking the Irkalla ISD to support him, when he received a transmission that narrowed the search area from 124 Systems to first only 32 and then 4 following an ISB lieutenant's successful efforts in the archives of the Cinnagar Navigators guild. 

Making best speed, the Irkalla was able to link up again with the Gehenna in the Unknown Regions, somewhat near Chiss Space.  Kintik had to admit that he felt a certain thrill, especially when Mercet had told him of the translation.  Unfortunately, it also served to mitigate his excitement; anything having to do with the Admiral's favorites always elicited such.

...Speaking of... He had rolled his eyes as he noted beneath Lieutenant Raduuk's Electronic Verification report the tag of the escorting Captain Deus, matching Professor Deus on the initial report that had marked this sector of the Unknown Regions as a search zone for whatever the Sith Wayfinder pointed to.  Mercet favoured her so-called "God twins" too much in his opinion; one should not become over reliant on any one underlying, no matter how competent they were. 
 
Lord Sidious had taught him that by example.  Vader was the blunt face of Fear, the Inquisitorious the enforcers, but the Darkside Elite and Emperor's Hands were the true agents of the Emperor and it was they--or at least they who remained loyal to Sidious' Vision--that would carry his legacy and Empire forward.
 
Escorted by Death Troopers the head of the excavation approached.
 
“My Lord we breached the ceiling of a cavern 600 meters down the port side of the vessel, as per your advance instructions the area was cleared, shored and not further explored pending your arrival.”
 
Kintik surveyed around him, the B1 Droids at rest, their excavator arms caked in the moist red sands, Techs using air-jets to blast off fungal roots they had had through, large piles of dirt from the four excavation locations used to build defensive mounds in which Stormtroopers were hunched over their tripod mounted cannons, the screech of Interceptors on patrol overhead.
 
The system, indeed the entire sector, was devoid of any known sentient life, trade routes or civilizations, regardless he would not spare any resources to attain the "power multiplier" the Sith texts had alluded to and the Wayfinders inscriptions indicated were comprised of a number of "Phalanxes."
 
“Continue your excavations I will enter.  Alone.” He commanded, thoughts of the Ancient Sith translation foremost in his mind.
 
Striding forward he rounded the vast broken vessel so wrecked and corroded its composition was all that could be discerned, nothing of how or why it had crashed, pausing only briefly to glance up at one of the ridges surrounding the impact crater in which the ship was located as a small tingle ran down the small of his back as if he were being watched.
 
He scrutinized the lip of the ridge for a moment, noting only an odd bloom of the fungi that seemed the only non-motile life form of this world…perhaps it was somehow semi-sentient observing them; he had heard of stranger things than that.
 
Regardless thus far it seemed inert even as they had dug through a root system, likely taking the comings and goings of motile beings in its stride.
 
He paid it no more heed reaching the port excavation where a repulsor platform served as a make shaft lift down the 50 by 50 meter shaft into the dark.

          <<<<< >>>>>
 
On the ridge behind the fungi reef Zearic breathed slightly easier.  Two hours earlier something had trembled across the Force when the excavation teams made a break through, something their tiny drones could not investigate.   Cloaked by their Integrated Stealth field generators--at substantial cost to their armours' batteries it had to be noted--and with the subtle use of a of Olyna’s misdirection mind "nudges" the Cataphracts followed the dark cloaked warrior inside.
 
[Recognize Anything?] Olyn asked over the Triad text based short range communication, the words scrolling along with other integrated sensory data past Zearic's eye. 
 
They had waited seven minutes after the lone figure had entered to approach, another fifteen before they reached the lift, again a few Force diversions to sneak in just before the new Interceptor fly over, and more importantly, their Cloak fields drained their suits power below 60 per cent.

They needed 40 per cent just to reach their ship again.
 
It was a calculated risk, to try and follow now...they did not know when or even if the Imperials would leave, and certainly if they did leave, whatever they had come for would be gone with them leaving the Vhal’Dan to scry out what it might’ve been with incomplete information.  The thought process among the Group Mind of the Triad was carefully weighted between the three members and only narrowly fell to moving in.
 
The Imperial presence was only 60 troops and 15 workers by their count, spread out and avoidable for the moment, waiting any longer risked more Imperials arriving and locking down the site beyond any hope of infiltration.
 
[Nothing.] Sio replied by blink clicking one of the suggested responses to save too much time blinking on the eye tracking keyboard.
 
Zearic looked along the walls: they were in large square sections framed by a fairly simple chevron border, so far no text or images that their hazy green low light enhanced lenses could detect.
 
[Nothing.] Zearic followed with, taking the middle position as they moved ahead, the corridor was thus far straight and quite narrow for the Cataphracts, they had no sign of the robed figure but they followed the minimal heat traces of his footsteps, sensors translating heat into blue patches slowly dissipating on the sand-covered floor.
 
They turned one corner to a four way intersection, an empty plinth in the centre covered in fossilized fungi, perhaps a fountain that it had tried to take root in in ages past.  The plinth was a of a similar angular design to the chevron wall block borders, the floor less covered in sand was the same as the walls, prefabricated mass-produced square panels used to line this underground facility.
 
Down the left path they saw a flickering light.  Firm and focused they moved forward.
 
          <<<<< >>>>>
 
His micro Searcher droids were still mapping the facility--fortress almost--while Kintik was led by the Darkside itself.
 
It was subtle, a whisper of what had been, as if in deep slumber, but he could hear it’s breath ebb and flow down the passages, inhaling and exhaling to a slow silent rhythm.
 
He could almost see the door heaving with the breath as he reached it; it was far from the only one, there were dozens of small chambers sealed that his Searchers had mapped and passed by.  It seemed the soils here were too loamy to support large weights, and the fungi too invasive, indeed he had come across many cracks where hyphae had once tried to break in then retreated from the nutrient absent air.
 
The door way was as simple as the rest of the architecture and, except for the inscription, it mirrored that along one etched groove in the Wayfinder perfectly, according to Professor Deus' translation reading: Phalanx of the Unbroken Gaze.  Despite his own careful study of the inscrutable language he had to give credit to the Professor for discerning as much as she had given the utterly novel dialect in which it was written; divesting itself entirely of the usual 8 diagonal vowel markers between consonants of the"‘common" version of the language he knew, in favour of some 12 diacritical’s below each letter.
 
His open hands paused, ready to push the door apart but he checked his eagerness, carefully seeking any hint of a trap trigger or other device to keep out intruders.  Instead, he drew heavily upon the Force.
 
There were hints in his senses, but too far back in time for his Psychometry to be effective.  Stepping back down the corridor at what he felt was a safe enough distance to react if there was a trap, and activating his saber in case he needed to deflect a projectile, he gripped the doors in his mind and pushed.

Noiselessly, the doors opened, the darkness of the cavern engulfing him as he stepped forward.
 
          <<<<< >>>>>

[TheDutchman]

Special thanks to FT for his awesome rendering of D'Aylanna    This chapter is dedicated to him!
*****************************************************************************

Chapter 4: Bread Crumbs, part III
As the turbolift doors opened, the metal screamed as it jerked in fits and starts, not fully opening on the left side.  Darting quickly out of the ‘lift before the stubborn doors slammed shut, D’Aylanna continued her determined gait as the relatively narrow walkway opened up to an incredibly wide street/city square, the diffused orange light filtering throughout the air.  But there was an ersatz quality to the illumination, the light seeming to promote more shadows rather than generating anything close to warmth.

In other words: a normal day on Nar Shaddaa.

Consequently, it was also her best option to find answers, answers that she desperately needed.  Apropos of such, with each step she kept her wits about her and her Force Senses alert while her mind kept replaying the Vision that she’d seen during her Meditations before leaving Sekot, the words burned into her mind as if they’d always belonged there:

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

D’Aylanna’s Force Prescience had always served her well but–even during the best of times–could be maddeningly disobliging.  Worse, the Vhal’Dan Archives had proven woefully insufficient to the task with vague references, ambiguous possibilities, and contradictory results. 

“...Damn…” She’d muttered a rare curse.

Not that she had expected otherwise; when Vader had attacked the Vhal’Dan Homeworld of Kewda and with the Empire laying waste to large swathes of the urban areas, most of the Order’s Archives had suffered as a result.  In fact, much of the recorded Galactic Histories had been lost, Preservationists only recently restoring many of the lost Chronicles.  But not all, especially with the Empire’s COMPNOR¹ doing everything that it could to rewrite everything pre-Imperial.

As she said: she knew that she needed help.

Moving swiftly, D’Aylanna soon entered the Red Lamp District, functionally similar to the half-kilometer she’d just walked through although the myriad of lights affixed atop the multiple overlapping cables were, of course, red.

Taking several turns with the practiced step of one familiar with the area, deftly negotiating through the throng of sentients crowding the current level she was on, she soon found herself slipping between two dark, dilapidated complexes and into an alley, her armored boots splashing in the fetid, puddling water.  Heading into the alley, it seemed that everyone else deliberately avoided the area where a subaural drone vibrated just below the hearing threshold.

Although her senses were alert, she was confident that she need not worry.  After what seemed like an eternity of walking–her night-blindness contributing to the impression of a lost sense of time, the Force her guide in navigating the twisting turns of the alleyway–she stopped suddenly.  In front of her slumped over an errant bulkhead stanchion was a vagrant.  Dressed in black, he was almost indistinguishable from his surroundings…and that was before taking her night-blindness into consideration.

However, not only had she sensed him as she approached in the alleyway but–having been here many times before–she knew what to expect.  “I’m here to see Nadia and Anton.” She said just above a whisper, although the alleyway echoed eerily nevertheless.

Without a sound and with a slight nod of his head, the vagrant moved aside exposing a doorway behind him.  It was not as if his body had obfuscated the door; one moment it wasn't there and the next it was.  Before she disappeared in the building, the vagrant gave her a respectful nod which she returned in kind.

For D’Aylanna, the darkness of the alley was identical to the black of the tunnel leading through to the innards of the complex; however, she suddenly felt the familiar comfort of the place settle about her, a serenity remembered and appreciated.

Such was the nature of Nadia & Anton’s: the building was a vergence in the Force--albeit minor--a sanctuary to all Force-sensitives regardless of their alignment. 

As she stepped into the main chamber, the cozy surroundings were lightly illuminated, enough to be comfortable but not enough to dispel most of her night-blindness.  Again, she wasn’t worried.

Around the large room many sentients went about their business: from small groups speaking amongst themselves to couples engaged in private talk to loners that, likely as not, had a drink in their hand and an impassive face.

It was towards the latter that D’Aylanna walked, a small smile spreading upon her blue lips as she approached.  Standing, a tall, svelte man stepped around his table, the dangerous look in his eyes softening.  With a tight smile, he wrapped his long arms around her in an amicable hug.

“Ralen, good to see you, Druzhba².” She said softly, her face slightly muffled as the intense man crushed her to his muscular chest.  Briefly, his face relaxed (if durasteel could be said to relax).  Holding the embrace for a moment, D’Aylanna noticed that her friend was hard as ever, his jet-black hair now peppered with a few gray strands, his piercing blue eyes raptorlike and constantly wary, the almost-healed scar on the left side of his face now joined by two, smaller scars, one fairly recent.  With all of this, she was once again reminded of one immutable fact concerning him:

Ralen Yorul was one of the most dangerous men that she knew.

He released her from their embrace and gestured towards the table he’d been seated at.  “Please.” His voice was low; not soft–his voice was just as hard as the rest of him–rather as if he were unused to speaking aloud.  Not that she was surprised; Ralen was the very definition of a loner.  She noticed that his eyes lingered on her armored vambrace but said nothing.

Sliding onto the comfortable seat behind the table, D’Aylanna was quickly joined by the wiry man, his back towards the wall while his eyes continued their endless searching, a blaster always within easy reach of his practiced hands.  Qualities that she more than appreciated. 

“Apologies for my caution, but I couldn’t discuss anything over comms.  Zearic sends his regards.” She began, her face adopting a serene mask.  “...But forgive my haste; my time is short.”  She casually scanned the room, almost certain that no one in Nadia&Anton’s would ever try to eavesdrop.

Almost.

Ralen gave a brief nod, his eyes unblinking.  “You needn’t worry.” He said, likewise unnecessarily.  Ever since they’d met³, they'd done one another favors for years, always helping when called upon and never once complaining.  On no fewer than two occasions had they saved the other’s lives; indeed, Ralen had saved both her and her Shakal the very first time they’d met.

She knew him, more importantly, trusted Ralen.

To D’Aylanna, this was no different…and yet the entire galaxy had changed.  “I need to locate my daughter.” She said, sudden unshed tears glistening,  “I also need information regarding ‘Leviathans.’  Cross-reference ‘Hundred-Year Darkness’ and ‘Black Rains.’” She felt a single tear roll down her brown cheek.  “I…I’m sorry that…that I don’t have more....” 

Closing her eyes, she once again witnessed the horror playing before her as the vibroblade exploded through her Shakal’s chest while the hate radiating from yellow Sith eyes stared at her helpless form from the face of her daughter.  It had been bad enough that D’Aylanna had nearly lost her husband…but then she had lost Jorya that night.  “Please…” She pleaded, a lump in her throat.  Breathing deeply, she regained her composure…but not before Ralen had seen the woman absent her mask of control.

That was how much she trusted him.

Saying nothing, Ralen gave her one of his rare yet reassuring smiles, just a slight curvature of his lips.  He controlled his emotions well, as well as any woman from House Royal.  He was also one of the galaxy’s best information brokers.  Period.

She knew that she’d made the best decision in coming to him for help.

Knowing that it wasn’t much to go on, D’Aylanna was confident that Ralen’s slicing skills were second-to-none.  She knew from experience that he could extrapolate disparate data threads, finding significant correlation intertwining around and connecting them where none had been before. 

Not to mention that he’d been involved in Imperial Intelligence, one of the Empire’s most fearful and dangerous departments.  No, D’Aylanna knew that there was no one better to help her with her problems.

From seemingly nowhere, he made a datapad appear, grabbing a cord from the side and inserting the end into the side of his head, his hidden cybernetics otherwise indistinguishable from his organics.  Each time that he typed, his eyes kept scanning several drop-down menus courtesy of ocular implants.  In no time, he had several dozen apps, documents, and coding lists working simultaneously, connecting him not only to Holonet but also several large private databases.

Still, it took him almost two hours; telling considering that it typically took Ralen a few minutes.  Regardless, it was time well-spent.

“Nothing with Jorya or anything remarkable containing Togrutas, not for your purposes at least…” He said distractedly, “Some archaic references for both ‘black rains’ and ‘leviathans,’ neither jointly compiled but tangentially from Celebratus, New Republic Central, and Library Galactica.  Something vague about ‘soul-stealing Sith’ and ‘god-seekers;’ but those seem apocryphal…” With a rush of flurried typing, he consulted several menus, eliminating many forthwith before carefully regarding those remaining.  Then with a small nod he finished his coding, enabling the program that he hoped would present an answer.  For several tense minutes they both waited, until…

“Corbos.” Ralen’s voice retained its quiet tone yet he had a hint of a smile upon his face. 

D’Aylanna blinked.  “I’ve never heard of it.”  Again, expected.  “Where is this Corbos?”

Ralen removed a datacylinder, a tight half-grin showing no teeth.  “Coordinates, biosphere, everything you need is here.”

She smiled widely, relief spreading across her face.  For the first time in several months, D’Aylanna felt hopeful.  “I am forever in your debt, Druzhba.” She made the datacylinder disappear among the many pouches on her wide belt, briefly exposing her armored torso.

“Trouble?” He finally asked, Ralen’s raptor-like gaze made his blue eyes that much more intense.

D’Aylanna knew that there was no one–other than her Shakal--who’d be better covering her back…but this was something that only she could do.  “I’ll be fine.” Her sincere smile was disarming.  “I promise.” She touched his forearm in thanks, grateful for Ralen’s latest assistance.

Besides, she did not wish to upset him with what she knew she had to do.  Such thoughts invariably reminded D’Aylanna of her Zearic as they always did.  At least her Shakal was appropriately occupied with orders from the Triarch… “I cannot thank you enough, my friend.”

For several seconds his stare was unrelenting…but suddenly softened.  “For you and Zearic: anything.” He made a gesture with his closed fist, an Alderaanian gesticulation which roughly equated to “family” or “togetherness.”  She was warmed by the sentiment.

“Likewise, Druzhba.” She stood, allowing the comfort of the Force to commingle with her newfound relief…yet it still wasn’t enough to completely dispel her misgivings.  Still, whether by blessings of the Maker, the Will of the Force, or simple luck, D’Aylanna was confident that she would be able to confront Gaetana.  She would face her foe and she would pay.

She prayed to the Maker, her trepidation leaching into her.  …Oh Jorya…forgive me Dear One…  She would do what she must.  Gaetana must never again escape...and it was incumbent upon D'Aylanna that she find her.

And, for once and for all, she would kill her.
____________________________________________________________
1. COMPNOR: Comission for the Preservation of the New Order, the agency responsible for the promotion of the Empire’s New Order ideals
2. Druzhba: Hapan for “family not of blood.”
3. As seen back in “Interlude-Samaritan, part1&2:” https://www.saberforum.com/index.php?topic=36209.msg611267#msg611267

[Lord_S_Gray]

Some cross galactic searches spurred by ambition (Kintik /Mercet) Caution (Zearic and the Triad) and desperation (D’Alyanna)

Kintik and Mercet are clearly determined to unlock all the secrets of the wayfinder and the power it promises, and are that much closer (with a little assistance from ‘Deus…’). I particularly like the idea of the ISB agents trying to retain some holistic sense of order as the Remnant increasingly fractures – Raduuk is ‘assisting’ the triumvirate in the absence of a central authority it seems.

And the Trimuvirate get to show off their strengths a little here, focused, determined in their search, but not reckless, with a cautious deployment that frustrates the Triad’s efforts to infiltrate their excavation…and what shall Kintik find down there, and how does it relate to the Ars Inges interlude?

One can also appreciate the bind the Vhal’dan are in, the Hapans are after them, they need to follow up any irregularities at Sekots new location…but at the same time they need to stay hidden because of the Hapan’s…wisely they have adopted a ‘live and let live’ or rather ‘ignore and let ignore’ approach to the Remnant – but how long that can last is another thing when they are in their backyard digging things up. It’s a risky moved but ultimately it seems the Dark side stirrings meant the Triad had to follow Kintik, Imperial Remnants and ancient Dark side artefacts are a very dangerous mix after all.

And a good cameo from Ralen giving D’Alyanna an assist, it is worth noting how quick she is to show the strain to him, even accounting for their family like bond, the toll of her worry for Jorya and dread at her visions seems to rise every moment….and shadowing her is the Hamask, ever watchful, ever observant, primed to strike the instant his target is spotted. D’alyanna may be preparing herself to ‘do what must be done’ to her possessed daughter…but she may not have to….

It was, as always, a great pleasure to have been able to contribute to Dutchs overall narrative.