Fiction Gallery

It was the season of the Corellian harvest. Celeste loved that specific time of year. The market district of Coronet city would come alive with travelers and tradesmen, off-worlders filled with stories of the far away systems she longed to visit.

Her brother Corvo would either be plucking away at the strings of his Hallikset, this time of year, in the streets or taking advantage of the visitors from far away lands. Many of them were unaware of just how quickly the web of deceit on Corellia could ensnare them with crippling debts. He did what he had to, whatever it took to protect her, to provide for her. Their father, Detrik was an Imperial trooper that preferred the company of Whyren's Reserve over time spent with his own children. Their mother, Sula, was long gone, she had passed away while giving birth to Celeste and Detrik resented her for it. It was obvious from the abuse and neglect that he provided while consumed by liquid rage.

While it enraged her brother, Celeste was innocent and pure. She never let anything sour her mood and she always looked forward to the future, to the possibilities that were hidden within it. Corvo admired that about her but was never able to get onboard with her optimism. He was her father figure, her friend, and her protector. 

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"Celeste!" Detrik shouted as he stumbled through the door to their third story apartment. "Celeste!" he shouted again, "where is that girl?" he growled.

Celeste knew that when her father called, it was never for a good reason. Most of the time, hiding was in her best interest. 

Furniture snapped and glass shattered as Detrik stumbled and angrily smashed through the apartment. Liquor sloshed out of the bottle in his right hand and between shouts he would stop to gulp the amber liquid. 

Celeste froze, but in doing so, her foot slid forward and knocked a plant from the table she was hiding under. The crash caused Detrik to pause and turn with a fiendish gleam. "Celeste?" his query was filled with fake compassion, "come on out, you don't have to be AFRAID!!" reaching down he grabbed her by the hair and tugged her out from beneath the table. "You WILL come to me when I call for you, girl!" he raised his hand as if to strike her but he was interrupted as the door to the apartment slid open. 

"Corvo!" shouted Celeste with hope. 

Bubbling up from the pit of his belly, Corvo's anger rose to the surface as he walked in to witness what he was trying to escape. 

"Let her go!" Corvo roared.

"Or what, you gonna stop me?" Detrik laughed. "You don't have the stones. I was Imperial Military, boy. You're nothing compared to me!" his laugh grew louder and caused Corvo's anger to erupt as he charged. "Fool!" Detrik shouted as he threw Celeste down and caught Corvo with a stiff backhand that caused the boy to stumble back into a shelf. "I've given you ungrateful brats everything, EVERYTHING!" his boot crashed into Corvo's ribs and he took another slug from the bottle. 

Corvo gasped for air and clenched his fists, a tingling pierced the back of his neck in that moment, it was like a thousand needles. 

"Stop!" Corvo shouted but it was useless as his father kicked him again. 

"You're pathetic, just like your sister!" Detrik roared back as he chambered his leg for another kick. 

It wouldn't connect. A primal growl tore through Corvo's vocal cords and a look of surprise contorted Detrik's face. It was a look that Corvo would never forget. The growl would then manifest and the very apartment began to tremble and shake. Detrik stumbled back and as he did, Corvo pushed himself up and stepped forward. Like an invisible explosion everything inside of the room imploded. A scream of terror and a sharp squeal escaped Detrik's alcohol soaked maw as he was blasted through the large glass window. 

Panic washed over the boy's features and he dropped to his knees feeling a sudden drain. His eyes scanned the wreckage and his heart sank when he saw the bloodied arm of his sister lifelessly laying on the floor, her body covered with remnants of furniture. His instincts told him all that he needed to know as he screamed and began to sob uncontrollably. What had he done? It was the only question he could ask himself as he became overwhelmed with confusion. His pale blue eyes never left his sister as he waited for her to move, waited for any signs of life. 

Falling to his face, he crawled over to her and as his shock subsided, he frantically ripped the pieces of furniture from his sister's lifeless body. He screamed once more as reality sunk in. Scooping her up, he pulled her close to his body and rested his head against hers.

"Celeste, what have I done?" 

The birds stopped their singing as day turned into night. He held her for what seemed to be a lifetime and as he expected the Corellian Security Force to arrive at any moment, the door to the apartment slid open. Startled, Corvo's eyes flicked over to the door and standing in the doorway was a large man, seemingly cloaked in shadow. Corvo froze as he saw the being's mechanical arms, the right hand clasping the left wrist. 

Before Corvo could speak, he was immediately stopped by the stranger's eerily calm voice.

"The name's Bentre, and I think you need to come with me."

Manually added by Prophet Howlader Taldrya

Ralltiir Near the High Ontis mountains 14 ABY

The small farming community was situated at the base of the central continental mountain range and the start of a large marshy area that extended to the ocean. Small farms dotted the area, growing a rice-like grain that helped to feed the local area. Small herds of Nerfs and Batuuans slogged through the marshy fields, occasionally fertilizing the land.

"It's got to be stopped!" yelled one person.

"He killed six of my Batuuans, left them in pieces!” another woman exclaimed.

“Two children and their mother were slaughtered by this monster.” the town constable softly said. The group of people became very quiet at this.

Benn looked at his mother and cocked an eyebrow in query. She pursed her lips and then nodded.

“I’ll hunt it, the killer,” he said stepping forward. “I will need some help tracking this thing, but I’ll get rid of it for you.”

Everyone turned to look at the young man, some having to look up at him. Broad across the shoulders, exuding a calm strength, Benn put his hands on his hips and looked around.

“But, you are just a boy!” one older man laughed, getting some of his cronies to chuckle along with him.

“Yes, and I am also the one willing to go take care of this problem, unlike you.” Benn replied, looking the man in the eye. “This has been going on for how long now? Two, three weeks? And yet here you all stand doing nothing but complain! And this after the death of two children!” Benn looked around at the people, seeing fear and shame in their eyes.

The constable stepped forward. “Constable Joba Rethlorkin, I’ll help, I think I have an idea where the bastard has been hiding out,” he said, holding out his hand to Benn.

Benn nodded and shook the other man's hand. Adjusting his blaster he looked around. “Anyone else?” He asked, pointedly looking at the smartalec man from earlier. The man wouldn’t meet his eyes.

A local farmer named Quin, and a friend of Benns stepped forward. “Yeah Benn, sign me up. I’ll get my rifle and be ready to help you in a few minutes.”

Benn walked over and kissed his mother on the cheek and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure I stay safe,” he said as he left.

Quin ran off to grab his rifle from his hover truck, then came back grinning. The trio headed off, Benn and the Constable in quiet conversation.

"Luck!" one of the townspeople yelled out.

Looking back the three smiled and waved.

The "hunt" turned out to be rather uneventful. Once the three were out of the town, and heading towards the forests at the base of the mountains, spoor from the monster they hunted started appearing everywhere. Dead animals, partially eaten, food containers and wrappers, tracks all over.

The constable pointed towards a rocky overhang about 95 meters from where they stood. "I have a feeling we'll find what we are looking for in there. The tracks all seem to head in that direction."

Benn unholstered his blaster and charged it. Quin chambered a round in his rifle, as Constable Rethlorkin pulled out a slug thrower and racked the slide back.

"I'll head over that way," Quin said, pointing off to the left. "I have a hunting stand over there, maybe I can spot something up there.

Benn and Joba nodded. "Should we take the cave straight on or?" he asked the constable.

"I can lead, just be careful with that blaster," the older man joked.

Nodding, he made sure the blaster's safety was switched on as they headed towards the caves.

Benn looked at the other man, eyebrows raised once they got close. "What the hell makes such a mess? This makes my bedroom look clean."

"I don't know, but whatever it is, it seems to kill just for the joy of killing, and it will eat anything apparently," Joba said, kicking a half eaten container of spoiled food aside.

Except for the bones and half eaten bodies of various animals.. The search in the caves was fruitless, so the two headed out.

Breathing in somewhat fresher air, Benn hoped the putrid smell of rotted meat, spoiled food and death wouldn't stay in his clothing.

"I want to try something," Benn offered. "I don't know how it works, but I can sometimes feel or sense things around me. I just have to concentrate on it."

The constable nodded and stepped back from the young man. "At this point? I'm open to anything."

Sitting down on a nearby rock and closing his eyes, he managed to slowly clear his mind of all the chaos around him. Slowing his breathing, he began to reach out to the world around him. The feelings, smells, sounds, everything, became muted. Soon he was lost in a swirl of shifting patterns. He "felt" Joba, standing by him, then as he expanded outward he "felt" Quin up in his tree stand. He felt the earth, the trees around him, everything seemed to be connected. Then he felt rage, anger, and pain. It wasn’t far away, and it was coming closer.

Coming out of his trance, Benn started to look around at the surrounding forest. Slowly, as if called, the killer appeared, It was huge, brutish, feral. Its eyes were a bright orange with black slits for pupils.

“There!” he yelled as the monster charged him. Without really knowing how he did it, he lept backwards from the attack, just avoiding the outstretched claws.

Joba swung around and began firing at the figure, the bullets impacted, blood and gore spurting and flying. The brute just kept on moving, howling as each bullet struck.

Benn aimed and began firing. The electric crackling sound of the bolts mixing with the sharp crack of the rifle filled the clearing. The smell of singed hair, burning flesh, spattering blood assaulting the senses.

Suddenly it was over. The thing lay splayed out, not moving. Blood leaking from numerous bullet holes, hair smoking and singed around blaster marks.

"I don’t think he will be a problem any longer,” the constable said, panting from exertion.

Benn glanced at him, then looked back at his target. The blaster shot was one in a million. It had caught the hulking brute right in the middle of the spine, paralyzing, but not killing it.

"Hey! You got 'im," Quin yelled out, a smile on his face as he approached the scene.

Grinning, Benn nodded and pulled out his knife. Reaching out to pull the brute's head back, he slit the killer's throat. Blood sprayed everywhere, causing the two others to jump back.

Saying a prayer of forgiveness to himself, he reversed the knife and drove it between the ribs and into the heart. The murdering beast shuddered once and died.

'"Urg, er, that is nasty," said the constable wiping blood from his boots. "You killed it, you deal with the mess."

The young man nodded and got out some synthecord from a belt pouch and bound the feet of the corpse.

Spooling it out, he looked around for a suitable tree branch to throw the cord over. Finding one he tossed the thin synthecord over it.

"Hey, help me lift him. The sooner we are done the sooner we can get home and eat". Benn said, grunting as he pulled on the rope.

The men grabbed the slack end of the rope, and between the three of them they hoisted the corpse off the ground.

It swayed in the breeze, blood slowly dripping from the gaping cut in its throat.

“Soooo….what now?” the old farmer asked, looking at the beast that hung before him.

“Well, um, I don’t know,” Benn said as he examined the beast. “The History museum would probably pay a good amount of credits for the body, but this one is full of holes now.” He bent down and examined the teeth and then the paws. “Hey! See here? It’s paw is infected, It can’t use it to make it’s kills. That's why it was killing easy prey.”

The other two men looked at the swollen front paw and saw that the area around one of the claws was red and inflamed.

“Well I’ll be damned. You’re right," Joba said. “Are you going to keep the head as a trophy?”

Benn shook his head and stepped back. “No, it was a noble beast that fell due to sickness. Killing it was a kindness. I think we should burn the body, or at least bury it."

Joba sized up the young man beside him. “You know people are going to want to take revenge on this thing for what it did.”

Benn started laughing. “What, are they going to beat the corpse with a stick? Will that bring back the woman and her children? It was doing what its species does, nothing more nothing less. No, we burn the corpse and call it a day well done.”

That night, as he looked up at the stars from his back porch, he thought about the beast he had slain. Was he in the right? Did he have the right to take a life, even of an animal? What if it had been a human? He believed that what he had done was for the best. He protected others. He was taught that by his mother since he was a small boy. Help others, protect others. Sometimes it will be difficult, in the end you will know. In your heart you will know.

Benn put his hands behind his head and smiled.

There's no place like home ...

Slowly he opened his eyes, the black lenses embedded in his skull rising as he looked around. There was a malodorous smell coming through the mask of his hood. He looked down. He was wearing his familiar dark grey suit, with it's black armoured panels, but there was no sign of his weapons or equipment on his belt. He looked up again. The light was bright and he instinctively shut his eyes again. Slowly he opened them again. He was laid on the floor in what seemed to be a narrow alleyway. The wall on either side appeared to be made of rectangular red stones fitted together in a sheer pattern, and immediately behind him was a large metallic container, the source presumably of the smell. At the end of the alley the bright sunlight lit him up, and he was unable to make out any features in what presumably was a street beyond. Carefully he got to his feet and dusted himself down. He appeared to be uninjured. Slowly he looked around, trying to see if any equipment he had brought had fallen off in however he had got wherever this was. The was nothing familiar. Slowly and cautiously he made his way along the alleyway towards the light, his senses feeling many people beyond the alleyway. He reached the end and stepped out into the sunlight and looked around at the scene.

There were many humans walking about, or at least what appeared to be human. The street was a dark grey with several cracks and holes in it. Along the street he could make out shops and bars, with a writing above them he did not recognise. He could see nothing in Basic, which was unusual in itself most cultures used it at least as the 2nd language. Most of the shops and bars appeared to be shut and had metal over the doors and windows, though there was at least one shop open. As he began to make his way along the street, a few of the people glanced at him in his hood but they also seemed to be wearing masks over their faces, mostly white with some variation of black or colours. He sound sense a strangeness in the air, like these people had a cautiousness about them that was not related to his odd appearance, and he noticed they seemed to be maintaining a distance from each other as well. Their behaviour was strange to him compared to the hustle and bustle of most of the cities he had visited including his own city of Seng Karash on Aeotheran.

Eventually he reached a crossroads and stopped. A speeder was making its way along the street. He studied it in puzzlement. It had wheels like he had seen on some of the Imperial transports, though it was red and much smaller and had one man sat at the controls. The street he had just entered was wider and disappeared off in either direction and was dotted with more mostly closed bars. There were more people walking about, also mostly wearing face masks and keeping their distance from each other, except for couples walking together or groups of younger people. What was this place? It felt real, though often dreams did until you woke up. Nothing was right about it though, the people looked human but did not quite feel right, and the technology looked wrong, as did the languages. How had he got here?

He heard a voice behind him and turned around. There were two men facing him. They were wearing black trousers, white shirts, a strange bright yellow vest and oddly domed black helmets. A quick glance downwards revealed they had belts with items on them but nothing that looked like a projectile weapon. Malisane had seen enough law enforcement officers in his time to recognise them. They did not look threatening and their manner was relaxed. One of them spoke again in the strange language he did not recognise. He was smiling slightly but his eyes were firm. “I do not understand you,” Malisane replied in basic. The two law enforcement officers glanced at each other, and then back at him. One made a gesture at him and spoke again, only this time more loudly and slowly, a technique Malisane himself often employed when dealing with aliens in basic. He sighed. He was becoming irritated. He had no way of knowing what they wanted, and he felt a sudden urge to drop both of them and make a quick escape. They were both large and fit looking, but he doubted they had his training, and certainly not the force. However if they were official they might be his route to understanding where he was, and more importantly if there was any way of getting back to his own world. He raised his hands and said. “I surrender to you.”

The two officers glanced at each other again, a look of confusion passing between them and then one of them made a lifting gesture to Malisane's hood and spoke more firmly. Malisane sighed. This was probably going to be tricky. Slowly his hands went to the hood, and he drew it back, pulling the hooded mask up and over his head, where it fell to his shoulders. With sudden looks of horror the officers took in the burned skin, ripped mouth and ears, missing nose and black lenses over his eyes where the lids used to be. A look of concern passed over their faces, and then one of them reached down to his chest where a communicator was hung and spoke into it. The other made a flat handed gesture to him spoke firmly again. With no other option except a sudden violent escape the Warlord patiently waited.

After a few minutes another of the wheeled speeders arrived. This one was predominantly white, with yellow and blue patterns and more of the writing he had seen earlier. It also had a strange block of blue plastic on top. Two more of the uniformed officers got out of the front, looked at him curiously taking in his disfigurements, and then spoke to the first two. Then one of them opened the rear doors of the vehicle and gestured to him. Malisane nodded. So long as they were taking him somewhere useful he was happy to comply. He crouched and sat in the back of the speeder and sat back. The door was shut behind him with a metallic clunk and the two officers who had arrived in it got in and spoke to him, one of them turning him him. Malisane still did not sense a threat from either of them, and they were speaking in a calm tone. He made a slight shrugging gesture with his shoulders and then looked ahead past them through the transparent glass. There was a light rumbling noise and the speeder vibrated slightly, as it began to roll forward and accelerate.

As the vehicle accelerated Malisane look curiously out of the window. This was a strange place. Though he recognised most of the features, shops, bars, restaurants, people, more of the wheeled speeders, the construction looked very basic to him. Even on the most remote worlds technology was fairly standard with his own. The clothes were similar to his own world's. He had not seen a single non human or droid though, though he recognised a few four legged animals that resembled small short haired wolfs, controlled by leads and clearly being kept as pets by the inhabitants. The lack of droids concerned him the most. He had to speak to these people to find out where he was, and hopefully find a ship that would take him off this world and back to Orian, and a protocol droid would help, even if it could analyse basic and interpret it into whatever language they spoke here.

Eventually they reached a squat grey building and the speeder stopped. One of the officers got out. The other looked at him in the mirror above the controls and spoke to him. Malisane sat calmly. Then the officer returned and opened the door, speaking to him. He got out and stood calmly, blinking slightly in the bright sunlight. He followed them inside through some sliding glass doors and up to a desk, behind which stood another officer. Following a conversation and some more scrutiny of the Sith he was directed to raise his arms and was searched, and then lead through a locked door and into an area behind the desk, and down a corridor. Eventually he entered what to his surprise was not a cell or containment area, but a simple while walled room with a table and four chairs. He was directed to sit at one of them and he complied. One of the officers left and the other stood by the shut door passively. The officer glanced at Malisane and said something with a slight smile. Malisane had learned in the past that smiling with his ripped mouth and broken teeth did not usually provoke a positive response and kept his features as passive as possible. He sat back in his chair.

After an indeterminate time, and an older man wearing a grey jacket and trousers, white shirt, and a blue thin scarf around his neck and trailing down his chest. He was carrying some papers and sat down. He was carrying a cup with some brown hot liquid in it. He smiled at Malisane and gestured towards the cup, speaking slowly. Malisane shook his head. He had been trained not to accept refreshments unless forced to in these situations, due to the threat of imbibing something to control him or force him to reveal more than he wanted to. The plain clothed man nodded and then looked down at his papers, rifling through them, and then placed a document in front of Malisane, speaking slowly still. Malisane glanced at it. It was covered in plastic, and on it were a long series of patterned rectangles, with what appeared to be writing under them, some matching the letters he had seen earlier and others of a different curlier or pictorial structure. Malisane looked back up at the man in confusion who pointed at the rectangles and then at Malisane, speaking to him and smiling. After a few seconds Malisane understood his meaning. “I do not understand these images,” he said speaking slowly himself, “do you have a translation droid or software? I need to speak to whoever is in charge here.” The man frowned at him, and then spoke one word, pointing at the Sith. He paused, and then pointed to a badge pinned to his chest, and then spoke another word, and then pointed at Malisane again, speaking in a questioning tone. “I am Sith Warlord Malisane Sadow, of Clan Naga Sadow.” The man looked at him in confusion, and the Sith sighed. He pointed to his chest. “Mal-is-ane,” he said loudly pointing to himself. “Mal-is-ane?” the man repeated still pointing at the Sith. He spoke a few words finishing in “Mal-is-ane?” “Yes, Malisane,” the Sith replied.

He began to sense he was wasting his time with these people, and escape was seemingly like the more likely option. He glanced down at the belt of the officer that was stood. There was a set of cuffs, some sort of container, which presumably held liquid or gas and a long black rod with a side handle. Not much, but it was better than nothing, and none of them were a threat to the training and force abilities of the Sith. He could overcome the two men in seconds, take the meagre weapons and fight his way out with or without a hostage. However he had no idea if there were more heavily armed officers within a quick distance or how good the defences of this place was. If he had to escape here would be a more opportune moment. The man stood up and left, and a second later other officer entered, and spoke some words followed by the elongated version of his name, gesturing. Suspecting the worst but also looking for an escape attempt, the Sith followed. He was further to the corridor, and through a door. Beyond was a woman in a white long coat and normal clothes beneath. She spoke to him, including his distorted name. Malisane's gaze flickered quickly around the room. If had a desk, and what looked like primitive medical equipment. He was directed to undress his top half, then lay on a bed covered in a thin paper covering. He was then subjected to a fairly passive medical examination, including a blood and skin sample, swab of his mouth, and a device attached to his finger connected to a machine with a display. As a light was shone into his eyes the woman frowned in puzzlement at his black lenses and she spoke to the officer who had remained with them. Finally she left the room and he was allowed to dress again. The officer lead him to room with a heavy metal door, and he was directed inside. The small rooms only contents were a basic bed and a white lidless container that appeared to be plumbed into the floor. The officer spoke to him calmly, and then left, and the door was shut behind him with a metallic thud. Malisane glanced at the bed, and then opted to remain standing. Slowly he began to calm his heart rate, and began a simple meditation routine.

Eventually the door opened again and he was lead out of the room by two officers and back to the room. He was directed to sit and a piece of paper on plastic board was given to him and a thin object, and one of the officers indicated the writing on the piece of paper, and then directed him to the bottom and spoke a word. Malisane shrugged in confusion. The officer indicated the thin object, and said a word, then “Mal-is-ane.”, taking a similar device from his own pocket and scratching it across another piece of paper, leaving a trail of black liquid that sank into the paper. Malisane not knowing what else to do made a mark on the bottom of the paper. Satisfied they took it from him and he was lead out to the reception area. Waiting for him were two other uniformed men, though these were more severe looking, their uniforms were dark blue and stricter looking. They glanced at the paper that was given to them by the other officers, and then made their own mark on it. Then they lead him outside. Waiting was a larger white vehicle with only two doors on the sides and a smooth side with more writing, and a door at the rear. One of the new officers opened the door. Inside was a small caged area, with a small seat. He was directed to sit inside and the door was closed behind him. He waited until the vehicle made a rumbling sound and vibrated slightly, and then he felt it began to move.

Malisane considered his options. It was obvious they were taking him to a more secure location, why he was unsure except maybe they had no idea what to do with him. Every attempt he had made to communicate with these people had failed. It was unlikely his next location would be more fruitful. Wherever they were taking him would probably be vastly more secure than the temporary detainment centre he had been in previously, and even with their clearly backwards technology it would be harder to escape there than his present location. He had no idea how far the journey would be, minutes or hours, and decided now was as good a time as any. Slowly he looked around the small containment area. He was inside a cage, and beyond that was the heavy door that had no handle on the inside. Slowly he focused on the initial cage door, letting his mind sink into the basic mechanism. Compared with the security systems of his own world it was ludicrously easy and the lock opened with a clunk. Then he focused on the heavy door, moving the mechanism. Finally he made a gesture and the door burst open revealing the now dark street they were travelling on.

He tensed himself for a second and then leapt, slowing himself and hitting the street smoothly and began to run. A few seconds later the vehicle screeched to a halt, and as he glanced behind him one of the officers quickly got out. The man saw and shouted as he began to run, shouting into his communicator. The vehicle began to turn ponderously as Malisane continued to run. Seeing another of the metallic containers nearby next to a building Malisane vaulted onto it, and then tensed himself and leapt higher, grabbing the flat roof above and quickly pulling himself up. He could hear the shouting below and the sound of the vehicle, and in the distance he began to hear a strange whining high pitched noise and below them the sound of more vehicles. He continued to run, leaping across a gap between two buildings effortlessly. He continued to move from the epicentre, keeping up a fast pace. Finally when he was several streets away he dropped into an alley and pulled the hood of his robe back over his head, taking a few breaths. He could hear the strange high pitched noises and the vehicles moving past him towards near where he had left them.

He began to walk out into the night. The usually fearless Sith felt an unusual stab of despair. His attempts to figure out this world he found himself in had proved ineffective. He had no idea how he had got here, where he was, or how to get back to his Clan, and he was now a fugitive. He continued to walk through the night. He did not know what to make of these strange inhabitants of this world. In some ways their civilisation was similar to his own, but in others it was vastly different. He had not been mistreated so far, though that would likely change if he was captured again and even if he could make them understand his language, would he be able to explain who he was. Malisane looked up at the sky. The light pollution and clouds made the view unimpressive, but he could make out a few stars in the sky. Was one of them Orian, or any he recognised? Who knew? He would leave this world and get home somehow. If he could not make these people cooperate then they might need to be coerced, by whatever means the Warlord had at his disposal. Buoyed by this thought he continued out into the night to find shelter and refreshments, and perhaps more understanding.

Ellac stared blankly at the pale infirmary lights that hung from the ceiling as the medical droid unwrapped the bandages on his arms. “Your burns have all healed. As such, I’m discharging you,” the droid said dryly. “Do give Master Lap’lamiz my regards. Seven years I’ve been serving in this station, and I’ve never had to tend to a single patient as many as I have you. Now get out of here. I’ve had enough of you for one planetary cycle.”

                                               •••

The mess hall was quieter than usual, with a lot of people taking leave to be with their families and friends, or even just to get away from the recent conflicts. But for all the vacationing, there were still those like Ellac who didn’t really know what else to do with his time. Sykes was away on some business with the Clan summit, and the others who had gone on Kamjin’s little ‘Island retreat’ were either still recovering or visiting family of their own. As Ellac slid his tray down the line, shoveling food onto his plate, he noticed a grey-skinned Togruta sitting alone at one of the center tables, glaring at his meal as he tossed it with his fork. His orange eyes glanced over, locking with Ellac’s for a moment before he stood up, dumping what was left of his food in the bin as he left.

“If you’re done gazing at tall, dark, and broody over there, could I be a bother and ask you to go eat in peace so I could get some food?”

Ellac chuckled as he looked over his shoulder at the man behind him, immediately doing a double-take when he saw the blood-red hair and maroon facial tattoos laid over his pale skin, with a black piece of cloth wrapped over his eyes. “…Sorry,” Ellac said, stepping away from the counter.

“Are you?,” the man asked.

“I’m sorry?,” Ellac said, looking back at him.

“You don’t even sound sure anymore,” he poked.

Ellac stared at him in equal parts irritation and intrigue as the man turned with his tray towards the Knight.

“What?” he asked, biting off a piece of bread from his plate.

Ellac hesitated, inspecting the cloth over the man’s eyes. “How can you see?”

“Never met a Miralukan before, huh? Allow me to introduce myself then. Azerith Wesmir. Pleasure to make your acquaintance,” he said, extending his hand.

“Ellac,” he said, reaching to shake his hand before finding his right hand was extended to Azerith’s left.

“A man with no last name? Someone has trust issues.” Azerith teased, switching his hands around.

“Let’s just say the last time I trusted someone, I lost an eye. So no, not a fan of the whole ‘blind trust’ thing,” Ellac smirked, finally shaking hands with the Miralukan before setting down at the table beside them.

“I see what you did there,” Azerith snickered.

“Do you?”

“No, but apparently neither do you.” Azerith sneered. “Sounds like it was a good time.”

“Agree to disagree on that one.” Ellac spooned a bit of the standard issue slop into his mouth as Azerith chuckled between bites.

“Oh yeah?”

“You dive headfirst into a pile of poodoo and tell me that you’re having a good time.”

“If I recall,” a familiar voice rang behind Ellac, “it was more than just poodoo.”

“Master. That was rather quick for a summit gathering.” Ellac turned to greet Sykes as he took a seat beside his apprentice.

“It wasn’t nearly as long as I’d have liked,” Sykes said, eyeing his apprentice’s meal with distaste before shifting his focus to Azerith’s plate. “Enjoying Elaina’s lovely cooking, I see.”

“If it can even be called cooking.” The neophyte grinned as he pushed his tray away.

“Trust me, kid, there are worse things to eat. Enjoy this while you can.” Sykes let his words hang in the air as he turned back to Ellac. “We’ve been given a new assignment. Kah’ri and his master will be joining us on this one,” he said, rising to his feet. “You’ve got fifteen minutes. Get what you need, and get down to the hangar.” Sykes’s robes trailed loosely through the air behind him as he made his way to the door. “Oh, and Ellac,” he said without turning back. “Don’t keep me waiting this time.”

Azerith grabbed his tray as he rose from the table, waiting until he was confident that Sykes was out of earshot to speak again. “He’s a ray of sunshine, isn’t he?,” he said with a smirk. “Tread carefully with that one.” Placing his flatware in the same bin as the Togruta earlier, the Miralukan left with a nod towards his new acquaintance.

Taking one last bite of his food before doing the same, Ellac jogged down the corridor to the lift that took him back to his quarters. Gathering his weapons from the footlocker at the end of his bed, Ellac glanced over at the chronometer on his nightstand. “Damn, I’m gonna be late,” he said, clipping his lightsaber to his belt. Draping his cloak over his shoulders, Ellac rushed off towards the hangar.

The heavy blast doors slid open as Ellac stepped through, peering through the bustling assortment of pilots and droids to find Sykes leaning against the inner-wall of a primed Lambda-class shuttle, Kah’ri and another man Ellac had never met already sitting in the seats behind him. The muscles in the Hunter’s shoulders stiffened as he approached the ship, sensing the shadow looming over his master.

Sykes glared at his apprentice as he walked up the ramp, the young Sith opening his mouth to speak before closing it again as he continued up the ramp. As he stepped past his master, Sykes grabbed his arm, leaning in close to Ellac’s ear. “I warned you.”

Confusion flashed across the hunter’s face before he realized what Sykes had done. His left arm dangled limply from his shoulder as he pulled away from his master too late. Sykes pushed him down into one of the seats lining the shuttle wall as the poison began to spread to his chest. “Orders are not optional. If you’re not going to follow them, poison will be the least of your concerns. Clear?”

Ellac strained to nod his head as the toxins streaked through his bloodstream, causing his body to fail. The Hunter wheezed as he fought to maintain his breathing.

Sykes reached to the wall above Ellac, closing the bay doors of the shuttle as he commanded the pilot to take off, muttering as he walked towards the cockpit. “And you thought Kamjin was bad.”

The poison from Sykes’ ring began to drag Ellac’s mind into a heavy lull, his vision blurring as he struggled to maintain consciousness. ’This is STILL better than the rancors,’ he thought to himself as the last of his cognizant brain functions were wrest from his grasp.

                                                   •••

A sudden bump jolted Ellac from his toxin-induced sleep, his eyes squinting up at the orange evening sky above him. ‘This isn’t the shuttle.’, he thought to himself as he inspected the land speeder he was now laying in. Multiple people sat in the speeder around him, their tattered clothes and bound hands matching the grim expressions on their faces as they rode to whatever fate awaited them.

“Hey, you’re finally awake.”

Ellac craned his neck as he looked over to the man who spoke, doing another double-take when he recognized the red hair and blindfolded eyes of the man sitting in the speeder beside him. “Azerith?”

“Fancy meeting you here,” the Miralukan chuckled. “You’ve been out for a while.”

“Just having another good time,” Ellac sighed, trying to push himself up before realizing his hands had been bound, too. “What the…?”

“Oh yeah, looks like we’re slaves now,” Azerith said, raising his hands to show a pair of stun cuffs.

“What are you talking about? Hang on, why are you even here?”

“I didn’t have anything better to do, and I wanted to know what you guys were up to, so I kind of, sort of peeked at your shuttle’s navi-computer when no one was looking and I followed you guys over here. I showed up just as the rest of our friends here were loading onto the speeders,” he said, gesturing to the other slaves. “When I saw that master of yours toss you into this speeder, I followed suit.” Azerith smiled.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Ellac said, pushing himself up with his elbow. “As soon as Sykes finds out-”

“Oh, he already knows,” Azerith interrupted with a grin. “He saw me jump in the speeder, but he couldn’t do anything to me without rousing suspicion, so here we are.”

Ellac shook his head with a laugh. “You’re either crazy or brilliant.”

“It’s funny how often those two coincide,” Azerith said, maintaining his grin.

“Quiet back there!” the pilot growled from the front of the speeder.

Ellac looked over at the other slaves, realizing that they hadn’t uttered a word since he woke up from his ‘nap’. Recall the earlier incident, Ellac also noticed that he hadn’t seen Kah’ri or Reiden since the hangar. “Where are the others?” he asked in a hushed voice to Azerith.

“The only other person I saw get out of your shuttle was that guy,” Azerith said, pointing towards a brown-haired man riding in another speeder in front of the one these two were in.

‘So there IS a plan,’ Ellac thought to himself, noticing the same grim expression on the ‘passengers’ in the other speeder. ’But of course Sykes didn’t feel inclined to share it.’ He shook his head in frustration, turning back to Azerith. “Did you happen to find out where they’re taking us?”

“Nope. I just hope it’s not one of those places like the Hutts on Tatooine. They’ll feed you to a rancor if you look at them sideways,” he said, realizing his poor choice of words as Ellac’s expression began to match the slaves’ next to him.

Ellac clenched his teeth at Azerith’s words, pushing the memories of the Arx Colosseum from his mind as he looked up to the enormous structure as they emerged from the tree line. “Looks like we won’t need to guess,” he said, pointing up at the castle before them. “That’s [INSERT SYNDICATE NAME HERE]’s castle.

The two speeders slowed to a stop as they approached the massive gates, the pilot in front passing a datapad to one of the many guards posted at the perimeter. Ellac and Azerith were too far to hear what they were saying as they inspected the shipment of ‘cargo’. Handing the datapad back to the pilot, the first guard waved his hand, signaling for the gate to be opened a moment before the two solid steel plates slid open just enough to allow the speeders to pass through.

“I’ve got a bad feeli-“ Azerith started as their speeder passed by a menacing looking guard.

“Don’t say it,” Ellac cut him off, looking up at the castle.

“Fine,” the Miralukan said with slight disappointment. “So what’s the plan?”

“I don’t know yet.”

“Then what are we doing here?” Azerith asked as they drew nearer to their destination.

“I am here on assignment from my clan. You decided to follow us, so like it or not, you’re part this now.” Ellac said plainly. “So do me a favor, and don’t get yourself killed.”

Ellac and Azerith watched as the speeders pulled into a wide tunnel at the far side of the building that appeared to function as a loading bay both for outgoing and incoming shipments. Carrying the latter, the speeders pulled to the side, stopping before a door that seemed to lead deeper into the castle.

“Everybody out!” A burly red Twi’lek barked as he strode out from the doorway. Ellac guessed by the white and gold armor that he must be some kind of Captain. The young Sith hesitated a moment as Azerith stood to follow the rest of the ‘passengers’ as they slowly shuffled out of the vehicles. “Are you deaf? I said get out!” the Twi’lek said, signaling a nearby guard who climbed into the back of the speeder, grabbing Ellac by the neck as he shoved Azerith out of the vehicle.

The Miralukan crashed onto the stone ground, wincing as his shoulder softened his fall. “Easy tiger,” he chimed between coughs. Another guard jabbed him in the side with an electro-baton, causing Azerith to yelp in pain. Taking a moment to catch his breath, he looked up the guard with a grin. “I’m shocked. Is this how you treat your guests?” ZAP! Azerith yelped again as the guard pulled him to his feet. “Worth it,” he choked out as the guard pushed him through the door.

“You wanna play wise-guy too?” The guard snarled at Ellac, tightening his grip around the young Sith’s throat. Ellac grimaced as he reached for his lightsaber, his bound hands finding nothing but his empty belt. ‘Great.’ he thought as the guard threw him to the ground, knocking the air from his lungs as the back of his head hit the stone, his head throbbing as his vision turned grey. A few more nearby guards came and grabbed Ellac by his arms as they dragged him inside.

Ellac’s eye strained as he tried to take in the room, his sight still spinning from the impact. It looked to be a staging area for their cargo, with variously sized crates stacked against to one side of the room..

“Backs to the wall, all of you!” the Twi’lek shouted, following after Ellac.

Spirit’s broken, the slaves slowly turned their backs to the crates like drones under a hivemind. The guards dragged Ellac to his feet as his head began to clear. Falling in line with the others, he noticed Kah’ri was missing from the lineup. ‘Really?‘

“Welcome to [INSERT SYNDICATE NAME HERE],” the Twi’lek interrupted his train of thought. “My name is Captain Tyba Da’iim. I will be your new master.” He sneered, baring his artificially sharpened teeth in a twisted grin. “Let me make something clear to you. You are not servants here, you are slaves. You have no value here aside from your usefulness to me. If you cannot obey the commands given to you, I will put an end your worthless lives, the only act of mercy any of you should expect to receive. Have I made myself clear?” he asked, the slaves answering his question with silence. “I’m glad we have an understanding,” Tyba said with a nod, turning to walk away as he told the guards to take them to their cell.

The guards pushed the slaves into the hallway outside of the cargo area, they natural glow of the evening sky being replaced with the artificial lights inside the castle. Ellac squinted as the guards led them through the hallway, the polished prismatic floors throwing the light back up at him. Finally arriving at their the new living space, Ellac recognized multiple races of some of the prisoners who had experienced the misfortune of meeting Captain Tyba before he did. The guards pushed them forward, despite there being multiple empty cells, and forced them all into one wider cell at the far corner of the hall. “Enjoy your stay!” one of the guards taunted as the closed the door behind them. As soon as the the door had been locked, the slaves stun cuffs fell from their wrists.

“Very hygienic,” a bruised Azerith said, inspecting their new living situation. “At least it’s roomy.”

Ellac nodded, rubbing his wrists as he joined Azerith in examining the cell. It looked to be considerably bigger than the neighboring cells, but with about a dozen slaves all together, any thought of privacy quickly became a distant memory. “The sooner we get this done, the better.” Ellac said.

“Any ideas?”

Ellac grit his teeth as he remembered that Kah’ri had disappeared. “No, not yet.”

“Well, we need to figure something out, ‘cause some of the slaves from the other speeder are looking at us like we’re ‘entertainers’ in a cantina.”

Ellac shook his head at Azerith as he glanced over at the other slaves. However odd his expression, he was right about them staring. A particularly beefy Duros made no effort to avert his eyes as they locked with Ellac’s.

“So what now?” Azerith asked, drawing Ellac’s attention back from the other slaves.

“I don’t know,” Ellac said, leaning against one of the walls of the cell as he stuck his hands into his pockets, his fingers brushing against the tip of a vial before he pulled it out to inspect it. “What is this?” Ellac stared at the small vial of clear liquid that had been placed in his pocket.

“Where’d that come from?” Azerith asked in a hushed voice, noticing the vial.

“It looks like…” Ellac stopped for a moment as he twisted the cap open just enough to smell its contents. “…Poison,” he continued. “No doubt belonging to Sykes.”

“Why do you have it then?”

“Well, knowing my master, it’s some kind of test,” Ellac said, turning the vial in his hand.

“What kind of test?” Azerith asked.

“The kind where failure isn’t an option,” the young Sith said, his eye staying fixated on the vial “This is likely a ‘gift’ intended for someone important here, in which case my job is to make sure they get it.” Ellac looked up at the locked cell door, instinctively reached for his lightsaber before realizing again that Sykes had confiscated his gear.

Azerith grinned again as he felt Ellac’s rising tension. “Don’t worry about the door. I’ve gotten it taken care of,” he said, patting Ellac on the shoulder as he eyed the Duros again. “Oi, Muscles! You want to help us get out of this cell?”

Standing from his spot on the ground, the Duros walked over to Azerith, cracking his knuckles in the typical tough-guy routine. “No point in tryin’. They’ll kill us all before we leave the cell block.”

“Well, better to die free than to die a slave, right?” Azerith chimed.

“I’d rather not die at all,” the Duros said, turning back towards the other slaves in the cell.

Azerith’s cocked his head as he reached into the Duros’ mind with the Force, a hint of a mischief creeping onto his face. “So you’d leave your wife and daughter to fend for themselves? You’d rather slink back into your corner with the rest of these cowards than see your family again?”

The Duros spun on his heel as he grabbed the Miralukan by the throat, as he brought their faces close together. “How do you know about my family?”

“That’s not all I know, Lithmar.” Azerith’s grin widened, even as the Duros tightened his grip.

“How do you know my name? Who are you?!?”

“I’m the man offering you a chance to win back your freedom.”

Lithmar maintained his grip as he stared at Azerith’s face. “A chance? That’s all you’ve got? A chance?”

Ellac’s frustrating grew to anger as he lifted his hand towards the Duros for a moment, wrapping the Force around his neck as if it were his own fingers as Lithmar began to cough and wheeze, his own grip on Azerith loosening. “Would you rather see what I have to offer you?” Ellac spat at the Duros. “Take a moment to consider that you’re not locked in a cell with those guards. You’re locked in here with me, and I will give you no such chance,” he said, Lithmar’s blue skin fading into a light shade of purple as his eyes began to bulge. “Now tell me, Duros, which would you prefer?” Ellac released his grip as he dragged his victim to the his knees.

Lithmar gasped as his windpipes opened again, sweat pouring from his domed head. “No more!,” he shrieked between breaths. “No more!”

“Good choice,” Ellac said, turning back towards Azerith who stood in a brief stunned silence at the young Sith’s rage.

“He was just a young man, a scrawny punk!” a human shouted to the medical droid that sutured a new cybernetic, an arm, as for whatever reason he had just lost one. 

“I’m sorry sir, I do not follow.” the medical droid chattered back in binary, understood by the anxiety and pain riddled gun for hire. 

“The schutta that did this to me!” he shouted, lifting his nub from the table eliciting a response that made the multiple droids surrounding him pin him down to the table as he growled. 

“Be calm sir, you must remain calm. Start from the beginning.”

Bloodied lids closed over green eyes as the mercenary steadied his breathing and with a gruff voice began to spin his tale. 

“I was hired by the Collective I should'a known when I received the holo that this was going to be more than what I bargained for,” he sounded off, “I was to simply track down a young punk Forcie, kill him, and bring his head back for mounting.” 

“And?”

“And, that's obviously not what happened you hunk of tin.” he shouted again. “Let me paint a picture for you.”

Corellia was a rambunctious place, filled with a rowdy people. In fact, I felt right at home, being from Wild Space and all. The birds spoke to me and the Corellian hounds snapped their jaws at those who passed by. The marketplace was filled with caged animals. Creatures for sale. Intel told me that the kid enjoyed spending time there. He was apparently some kind of swoop racer, a big deal.” The man gestured with his organic hand, animating his words. “They were right, he was there, barking at a Sullustan who obviously tried to gouge him. I thought, finally, I found him. He had a Bryar pistol on his hip, a lightsaber hilt strapped to his back hidden from the ordinary eye, and a hidden blade bracer on his left forearm which wasn’t hidden for long as he pressed it to the alien’s throat. I had my work cut out for me. That was for sure. So, I took to the crowd with my westars ready to strike. I took cover behind a stall but my cover was blown when the owner of the stall knocked over a stack of droid processors, a racket that drew attention to my place of concealment. As expected, I opened my eyes after cursing under my breath, only to see the young Forcie staring directly into my soul. I knew he saw me when he flashed a smirk and turned to face me. Doing the only thing a merc such as myself could do in such a situation, I brandished my weapons and fired off a series of shots. Unfortunately, it was like he saw them coming as he juked to the left, then to the right. My shots rang true, only not into their intended target. He was fast, slithering like a snake through the crowd. Yet, he wasn't fleeing, he was advancing, his eyes never leaving mine, not for a second. That smirk on his handsome face curled into an angry expression and with an eerie precision I had never witnessed first hand, he drew the cylinder on his back and a blue blade burst from its core to deflect my next series of shots with the same ease it took for me to pull the trigger. The hair on the back of my neck stood up for the first time in a long time. I knew things weren't going to go well. He instilled fear, for someone so young, there was just something about him that stirred an uneasy feeling in my gut. The anger in his eyes, I’ll never forget it. It was like he had buried a tremendous amount of gilt or angst. Something that tugged at his heart strings, something he himself couldn’t control. I remember his black hair was hypnotic as I watched the single braid sway with his movements. The image of him drawing closer haunted me, even now. But, I had a job to do and I wasn’t about to go down without a fight. Afterall, there were credits at stake, a lot of credits.So, I stood, looking back now, that wasn’t the correct response, yet, it was the stance I took. I twisted my body behind a pillar that held up the walkway above me and fired off more shots, only, something happened that caused me to stop in awe. I watched as my last shot froze in place, suspended in the air in front of the kid. It pulsed as if it were alive and as the Corellian pureblood stepped out of the line of fire, it exploded into a condenser behind him. He growled, as his anger became too much for him to bear and then it was too late. I heard a latch to my right and the sound of a gate fall open. Another growl filled my ears but it wasn’t from a human, it was from an angry predator. My eyes shifted towards the sound and before I could respond, a corellain hound leapt from it’s confined quarters and latched onto my right arm.” He continued flailing his arm and blood sprayed onto the table. “Then, I saw a flash of blue before my eyes, the barrel of my unoccupied pistol fell to the duracrete and then I saw another flash, but that flash was different as what followed was a searing pain. An overwhelming agony that caused me to forget about the hound latched onto my arm. I fell to the ground and as the adrenaline coursing through my veins plummeted, I could see my limb laying next to my head. The hound let go briefly but ran off with it. I looked up as my eyes welled with tears and the burning lightsaber fell within centimeters of my neck before stopping. The only thing he ever said to me was ‘tell whoever sent you, Corvo is still alive’ and like a phantom, his blade slid back into his palm and he disappeared into the crowd.”

The droid paused but did not respond.

“His name was Corvo, that name will be burned into my mind until I die.” He growled in pain, looking at his newly grafted cybernetic. “I guess this will never let me forget, eh?” he finished.

“I guess not, sir.”

Forged in Failure

Gravity wells, whispered Midshipman Tamil suddenly launching to her feet, “Sir! ... I’ve got it!”, she struggled to run the length of the command bridge of the Vindicator Class heavy cruiser Phoenix, continuing to exclaim her breakthrough as she went.

“Trainee Tamil!”, Commander Haggard brushed aside a crew member explaining an overly complex and likely flawed algorithm he held on a datapad, and turned to meet the no doubt oncoming wave of enthusiasm, “May I remind you Trainee, that this is my bridge and that you are on what is presently my ship, and until that changes you will conduct yourself with a modicum of decorum.”

Tamil arrived feet slapping to a stop on the deck and slumped over, hands on knees and gasped for breath between apology and explanation, “Apologies! .. Sir, I ... Think I figured out ... that was waaay further than I thought it was.”, Tamil hacked, coughed and wheezed as they attempted to stand up straight.

“Easy now Trainee Tamil, deep breaths.”, Commander Haggard stood motionless with arms folded, allowing only his eyes to follow as he waited for the Trainee to regain composure, “Now. Explain yourself.”

Tamil looked back over her shoulder to the datapad she’d forgotten on top of her station and closed her eyes tight before beginning her explanation with a thin lipped nasally sigh, “I’ve figured out how to anticipate the Carrack cruisers, Sir.”

“Go on, Trainee.”, the beginnings of a smile began to take shape on Commander Haggard’s otherwise impassive face.

“Gravity wells, Sir. With 7 planets the Orian System is obstructed by many gravity wells, which means when Hyperspacing from a point in system there are only so many destinations in proximity to other planets available at any given time. And if we force these Carracks to enter hyperspace at the right time, we can narrow down their options to a single destination. Sir, we’ll know almost exactly where they’ll exit hyperspace.”, beneath the enthused wide eyes and apprehensive expression, signs of confidence and competence were struggling to emerge on Trainee Tamils face. Haggard had seen it many times before as he shaped and refined generation after generation of Officers, it was moments like these that he defined his career by. He puffed up his chest.

“Well Trainee. Get those predictions to the helm, so we can pre-calculate the necessary jumps!”, as Trainee Tamil began a jog back across the bridge Haggard smiled.

---

** This is Sword 1, I’m aligned and the flight computer will have the jump plotted momentarily. **

The high frequency waves of his Twin Ion Engine Defender was the backdrop for comms chatter as Sword Squadron exited the hanger of the heavy cruiser Phoenix and took up positions for a formation hyperspace jump that would see Sword Squadron deployed as a wide net, along with the Phoenix, to collapse on their target shortly after exiting hyperspace.

** Sword Squadron, this is Commander Haggard. The Raider Accipiter will shortly engage the target Carrack Cruiser between the moons of Aeotheran. We expect them to enter hyperspace and hit the combined gravity shadow of Gamuslag and Sepros at the coordinates you’ve been provided. We will enter hyperspace directly after the target whilst they’re blind to our actions. Once we arrive, you will drop their shields and disable the Carrack Cruisers engines without hesitation, but you are not to risk damaging their computer systems with ion energy once their shields are down, you will not damage the vessel beyond what is absolutely necessary. Failure will be dealt with swiftly. **

His knuckles cracked as he squeezed the flight yoke. Looking out of the Defenders standardised octagonal cockpit, he could just make out the tip of the dagger shaped Vindicator making final alignment adjustments. It wouldn’t be long before the countdown came and —

** JUMP! **

“Damn it!” Was this amature hour? The damned monologuing fool. The nearby flash of the Phoenix entering hyperspace was blinding.

** Sword Squadron, this is Sword 1. Jump and engage the target. **

The stars in front elongated outwards as he initiated the jump to hyperspace. One by one the TIE Defenders of Sword Squadron popping out of existence within realspace.

---

On the bridge of the Vindicator Phoenix the blue streaked turbulence of hyperspace dropped away and reality snapped back into view. Ahead Gamuslag and Sepros were daylit and dazzling with the reflected light of the star Orian.

“Tactical, relay the enemy position to the helm and bring us about.”, Commander Haggard requested as he walked over to the view port and squinted his eyes to try and cut through the intense ambient light.

“Sir, they’re dead ahead, 50 kilometers out.”, a small flicker of light caught Haggards attention, as the hull of the Carrack Cruiser reflected back more light than the backdrop of Sepros’ atmosphere.

“Blast! Helm, give me full speed, adjust course 3 and negative 8 degrees. Do what you can to put us between that Carrack and open space. And where are those damned Starfighters!?”

---

** SHHHII — Sword 8: I’m right on top of them, damn near bounced off their shields. I can’t engage, too many laser cannons. **

** Sword 12: Inbound, keep ‘em occupied. **

** Sword 7: Same traffic. **

** Sword 4: I’m twelve klicks out. I won’t make it. **

** Sword 1: All engaged pilots, begin attack runs on their starboard side, they can’t shoot all of us. Burn down those shields and hit their engines. Then disengage to a safe distance. **

Three TIE Defenders of Sword Squadron began looping attack runs on the Carrack light cruiser, their ion cannons slapping and defusing across the larger ships’ shields. In response the Carrack put itself into a gyroscopic spin, turning as many laser cannons to bare as possible whilst spreading incoming fire across all shield emitters.

** Sword 7: I’ve lost shields! **

** Sword 1: Stay on target 7, keep giving their cannons as many targets as possible. **

As his Defender finally entered attack range, he was beginning to doubt his own words, maybe they could shoot down all of them. Checking system indicators his eyes hung on the 2 proton torpedoes in his loadout, far too much firepower for cleanly disabling a Light Cruiser and likely to get him executed by his superiors if he destroyed something of value — or worse, demoted. Switching to ion cannons, he entered the battle of attrition.

---

“Sir! Sword Squadron only has 4 fighters in range to engage, they’re badly outgunned and the Carrack will likely re-enter hyperspace any second now.”

“Tell me something I don’t know Lieutenant!”, Haggard gruffed as he pounded his fist on the view port. The Phoenix was still too far away to engage or impede the enemies escape, but close enough to see the flashes of ion blue and tibanna red weapons fire. His capture of an elusive enemy was quickly turning into an old man chasing ghost ships around the system, a narrative of failure that could lose him his commission.

Haggard’s eyes widened, “What the hell was that?!”. A purple and orange light had lit up around the Carrack light cruiser, briefly silhouetting three of the Starfighters as small black dots.

Trainee Tamil looked up from her station, “A proton torpedo, Sir!”

“Damnit! I know what a proton torpedo looks like!”, another purple-orange explosion rocked the Carrack light cruiser sending it into a drift.

“It’s engines are offline, Sir!”, a secondary explosion lit up the Carrack as atmosphere began venting into space, “all systems offline it’s in a complete dead drift.”

And with that the narrative changed once more, now he was a Commander who couldn’t control his subordinates and therefore couldn’t follow orders. If he wasn’t careful this could lose him his life. Wiping his brow and drawing his hand down over his face, he composed himself in the manner he had taught so many others, “When in range dispatch a boarding team. And once they’ve returned have Sword Squadron report for debriefing.”, his tone dripping with menace.

---

The troopers aboard the transport swayed forwards as the front thrusters kicked back, the ship clanking as it made a contact-seal with the Carrack, followed by a rapid succession of micro explosions as hatch bolts were blown. A light above the door flashed red to indicate a lack of atmosphere on the other side, the transport door opened regardless. The troopers aboard the transport wore full EVA suits and carried blasters at the ready. Exiting the transport into the zero gravity of the disabled Carrack they dived from wall to floor, from ceiling to doorway as they explored the vessel.

** ST-142 to Phoenix, we’ve found the hull breach. We’ll need time to seal and repressurise this section before we continue, as we got a few pressurised sections remaining. We haven’t found any bodies, we’re assuming the crew are trapped in the pressurised sections. **

** Understood Sergeant. Keep me informed. **

---

Commander Haggard strode into the Officer briefing room refusing to look at the assembled pilots as he stepped up to the central podium and slammed down his datapad. He allowed the following silence to hang in the air, “... my orders were simple. But apparently not simple enough.”, he surveyed the room, heads were hung low, “Your insubordination reflects on not only on yourselves, but the Phoenix, her crew and her Captain. I will have to answer directly to the Sadow Council and in turn you will now answer to me. Who recklessly fired proton torpedoes on the target you were ordered to capture intact?”

Amidst the breathy silence and shuffling as pilots turned to one another one voice rose up, “I guess Squadron leader Granger did, Sir.”

“And where is the Squadron leader?”, Haggard pressed impatiently.

“He’s dead, Sir.”, the meek response came outlining in tone the feelings of the assembled pilots, “Sword 3, was crippled and adrift. Those of us at the Carrack had lost shields. She was spooling up her drives. But we never gave up, Sword 1 rallied us for a final attack run. We came in from a blind spot, but that Carrack is damned maneuverable for a big girl ... by the time we got close, we were taking dorsal and ventral cannon fire. Sword 1 took a bolt straight through the canopy, then flew straight into their shields. His torpedoes went off like a one two punch, took down the shields, crippled the engine.”

“I see...”, Haggard stood stunned, his bluster dissipating. He shrunk as he felt the weight of his responsibility in a manner he was not prepared for. “... Very well. You’re dismissed, Sword Squadron.”

As he shuffled from the briefing room, the narrative in his head shifted again. Now he was the Ship's Captain responsible for a pilot who had died a Hero, therefore he would be seen as the Ship’s Captain whose plan of action had allowed a Hero pilot to die.

---

** ST-142 reporting, we’ve sealed the breach and have life support back online for this section. We’re ready to access the rest of the cruiser. **

“Continue Sergeant.”, the noise of a bulkhead door being overstressed and forced open filled the bridge of the Vindicator Phoenix and Commander Haggard and crew winced at the high pitch sound of pistons giving way.

** We’re in! ... ... ... Oh my lord. **

The comm stayed unnervingly quiet, “Sergeant, what do you see?”

** Sir. Bodies, dozens maybe hundreds of bodies. **

“The crew did not survive then?”, Haggard pressed.

** No... I mean, the breach didn’t kill these people. They have what look to be lightsaber wounds, some have limbs cut clean off. **

“That’s not possible, Sergeant, you’re mistaken.”, growing impatient Haggard shuffled through datapads he’d had compiled on likely antagonists, “... this could simply be the work of pirates or brigands.” he mused out loud.

** Yes Sir. ... We’re approaching the bridge ... ... ... FALL BACK! **

“Sergeant, report!”, Haggard commanded before going limp at the sound of Blaster fire and a distinct vibrating hum followed by agonised screams which ended almost as suddenly as they had begun, “What the HELL was that?”, he exclaimed as the bridge remained as quiet as the comm.

Trainee Tamil turned from her station to confirm her readings with her own eyes, “Sir! The Troop Transport, it’s disengaged from the Carrack!”, a second voice from a nearby station spoke up, “They’re not reconfirming their clearance codes, Sir.”

“Blast! Tractor that transport immediately. Hold them!”, Haggard approached the view port and watched as the transport flew away from the Carrack and underneath the Vindicator heading towards deep space as the blue light of a tractor beam stalled its motion and began dragging it back, “Excellent. Train the point defense ions on that craft and ... !“

An explosion rocked the Vindicator Phoenix causing it to roll as gravitational stabilisers struggled to compensate for the sudden unplanned motion. Bridge crew fell from their chairs or clung to their consoles and Commander Haggard hit the deck with a slap and slid three meters before gravity realigned. Outside the viewport the Carrack light cruiser blazed, only it’s reinforced skeleton remained intact, it’s heavy armour plating either vapourised or adrift, it’s bridge and engines gone.

Commander Haggard struggled to his feet, Trainee Tamil at his side bracing his arm as he rose. And through the viewport the troop transport, blasted free of the Vindicators tractor beams, entered hyperspace.

Lost in his own thoughts, Commander Haggard knew that there was no story he could tell that would change the narrative of his failure.

Haiku

Lost Desire Sought Out Yearning For Power And Note Found Where Least Foreseen

Battle Now Begins Fierce Opposition Enraged Desire Becomes Death

Haiku:

Oh Desired One, Will it be worth all this? The price we will pay?

In the style of Housman's "When I Was One-and-Twenty," catalectic iambic tetrameter on the odd lines and iambic trimeter on the even ones.

Rakatan arms did forge the stone, A weapon built of woe. Desired it will ever be, For they have made it so. A humble rock it seems to be, And never you suspect That as you seek a golden ship You only find a wreck.

The Sith and then their rivals came, Both seeking fabled prize. All those who entered temple depths Could not believe their eyes. Desired One had called them there, A place where life should thrive. Ironic was their fate indeed, As not a one survived.