Fiction Gallery

Droids Need Love Too Mount Dakhan Planet Aeotheran Orian System Naga Sadow Space

The ante chamber was quiet. Moonlight shone through the glass windows, as the crescent slowly rose over the snowy mountains. To an observer the room was a nearly organised area of boxes and storage containers. The automatic lights were off casting shadows across the room. The only artificial light was a dull red flashing one, mounted on the chest panel of the silent black astromech, it's body silent and immobile. It was not clear how long it had been sat there. Days? Weeks? Months. In it's shut down mode it had no way of knowing.

Suddenly the panel lit up, as more lights began to quickly flash across the surface of the panel. Finally the droid twitched, and then began to move forward on the small wheels beneath it's three legs. It moved through the doorway which automatically opened into a corridor, and then turned left and then right in a smooth circle, before approaching a computer port on the wall. A probe emitted form the droid's midsection into the port, and it rotated before locking into place. Once more the lights on it's panel flashed in seemingly random pattern, and then the probe retracted. The droid made a deep sonorous bell like tone, and then turned on a circle and made for the turbolift.

The lift door opened into the hangar and Zero made it's way across into the large cavernous area. It stopped as it studied the hangar. House Shar Dahkan soldiers and personell walked back and forth, on one purpose or another, all of them ignoring the black astromech as several others and different droid types moved around. The droid made another deep sound, and then it revolved and made for another wall computer port. Zero extended and locked it's probe once more, and waited until its' commands were entered. Finally it made it's way smoothly across the hangar, and waited.

A few seconds later a large robotic arm extended, scanning the droid, and then wrapping it's metallic claws around the astromech and lifting it, before lowering it into a metal crate which slid shut. A few seconds later the crate itself was lifted, swivelling around as the arm extended and then lowered it into a waiting shuttle. Zero waited inside its' crate until it detected movement and rumble of engines and vibrations as the craft lifted off. Satisfied the droid entered it's standby mode and the panel lights dimmed once more.

Seng Karash Starport Aeotheran

Unlike the passenger areas the cargo bays were quiet, the only footfall were maintenance people and pilots going off for a well earned drink while their cargoes were unloaded. Droids and robotic machinery supervised the unloading of crates. As one of them was placed onto the hard floor there was a pause, and then the clasp of the crate began emit a shower of sparks, followed by the side collapsing with a metal clang, and Zero rolled out into the bay. It rotated a couple of times observing it's surroundings, and then began to motor across the floor towards the exit. Then it stopped. A pair of guards were making their way towards him, talking and not paying attention. Quickly the droid moved into cover under a large storage shelf and waited, its one red light flashing quietly. Once they had passed Zero continued. It rolled on looking for an access port, and finding one it logged in and began to search. After a few seconds the droid retracted it's probe once more and began to move, and then stopped. The two guards were looking directly at it and it heard them talking to each other as they advanced, raising their rifles. Quickly Zero's upper panel rotated left and right, looking for an escape, but saw none, and then it focused back on the guards who were now shouting at it. The droid reacted instantly. From behind it the blaster cannon extended and it instantly took aim, firing. One the of the guards was knocked back by the first shop, his chest smoking as he collapsed. The second returned fire, narrowly missing the droid. Zero aimed and fired a second shot, taking the other guard down. As alarms began to sound the droid quickly made it's way forward past the bodies, scanning for an exit. It accelerated, making it's way out into into the main area. It could sense more guards running towards it and kept going. Several shots fizzled past it but it ignored them, focusing on heading towards the exit. There was a fire door at the end of a narrow corridor, now sealed due to the alarm. Without stopping Zero opened another panel, extending its anti armour rifle. Slotting a round into place it aimed and fired. The door exploded outwards in a burst of flame and metal and Zero raced through the flames, out into a small alleyway. Looking round it saw the exit at the end was clear, and seeing open street it motored towards it, gaining as much ground as possible on the chaos it had left behind.

Zero lurked in the park, beneath the shadow of a large tree. Above the sun was shining through the protective glass dome, and families, couples and workers on their break walked, played or sat and ate. None of it meant anything to the droid, it was purely focused on the mission it had been given. As its head rotated back and forth it scanned the faces, checking them against the image in its database. So far it was negative on matches. It waited patiently, and then it made a match. A man was walking through the park, accompanied by two other men and heading towards the north exit that lead to the leisure district . The droid made a series of calculations. The human was in range, and it was likely it could make a successful attack before the humans accompanying had time to react. The ensuing panic caused in the park would give an opportunity to escape, but if the droid somehow missed then the panic would have the opposite effect. Slowly Zero began to move.

It trailed the man through the park entrance and past the Aeotheran Security Force troopers who paid no attention to the droid. Though it was likely that the incident at the shuttle port had been reported, the city was full of droids of every shade and description, and it passed unnoticed. The droid studied the man intently as he passed a line of speeders. If the target began to get into one then Zero would have to take immediate action. A vehicle would be too hard to follow and the risk of loosing the target was too high. It powered up it's blaster cannon but kept it out of sight. It would have time to fire if necessary, either at the target itself or a vehicle. The target made no attempt to enter a speeder and kept on walking past them, and then turned into an alley, his companions taking a furtive look behind and following. Zero increased it's speed slightly, to ensure it did not loose sight on the target.

The target walked down the alley and stopped at the end. Zero watched from the alley entrance, analysing the scene. The targer and his companions had met another three humans, and they were conversing. From their tone the conversation did not appear friendly. The droid scanned them, detecting blaster pistols concealed about each of their persons. Slowly the droid moved forward, a series of scenarios running through it's brain. The six humans were still engaged in a loud conversation, and Zero detected an increase in body heat. Zero surveyed the alleyway. There was a doorway leading off, which had a heavy metal grill covering it, and a large waste bin. It slowly began to extend it's blaster cannon, and fixed it's aim on the target. Then it fired.

As the man fell, the others from both parties drew their weapons, moving into defensive positions. Spotting the droid they fired, and a shot bounced off the armour plating, the others missing. Zero could hear sounds of shouting from behind him, as people reacted to the sound of blaster fire. It fired back, narrowly missing a man who was taking cover. The could now hear the sounds of armoured feet from the street and sirens. Wanting to bring this to a close, the droid extended it's anti armour rifle, aimed and put a shot in between the troopers. The explosion missed them but caused them to move back, still firing. Then as Zero moved behind the metal bin, seeking cover, it heard the sound of shouting, followed by more blaster fire from behind as security troopers arrived and mistook the situation for a standoff.

Zero hid behind the bin, powering down to minimum functionality, listening to the sound of blasters as more troopers arrived and joined the fight and it could hear speeders above. Waiting for a short while longer, it began to roll up the alley back towards the street. In the chaos behind no one noticed it. It rolled out into the open and set off quietly, making for a safe location it could lie low until it could report it's success and be collected.

A Match Made In Stockholm

"Thinking back, often becoming lost in my memories, I can still see her face. Set ablaze, all over again when I picture her silky hair and her fair complexion. I reflect on the softness of her touch and the fire in her eyes. I am plagued by her memory, almost consumed by it. It will be my undoing, Jaxon." 

Corvo stood, gazing out the viewport of his vessel, a single finger pressed against his lips. 

"Sir, I never kne-" Jaxon was a budding member of House Marka Ragnos' research team. He was tasked with gathering intel on Corvo's species, as to many, the Chiss were still an anomaly. It was a difficult task with success weighing heavily on the Captain's cooperation. 

"Knew what, ensign, that a Chiss could love?" The stoic being cracked a smile from the corner of his lips. 

"I meant no Offense, Capt-" Jaxon stammered, quickly thinking of a follow-up line of questioning. "What was her-?"

"Simplified in your tongue, her name was Sanja." With mental quickness and perception, Corvo already anticipated the same simplistic questions, the same choreographed lines that dominated Human interrogation. 

Jaxon opened his mouth to speak but was again cut off.

"Csilla, a remote place, my place of origin." Corvo thought of home. "For as many years as I can remember, Csilla had relied on the findings of the Ascendancy Fleet. Exploration, charting the stars, various rercaci-" 

"Systems?" Jaxon was trying to pick up on the Chiss' language over the course of their 'partnership' and Corvo had been patient thus far, as he too, had something to gain as he polished his Basic. 

"That is correct," Corvo nod, "isolationists for so long, the Chiss people had much to learn. Groups were sent out to reestablish our presence. Some went to Wild Space, the Outer-rim, Core Worlds as you refer to them. I was sent into a Shroud. A blanket of darkness."

"You're talking about Antei?" 

"Correct," Corvo spun to face his curious passenger, "When I arrived, my ship was raided by pirates. The only logical option, being alone, was to surrender," he paused, "or, trigger an energy overload that would create a chain reaction of energy dispersion."

Jaxon raised an eyebrow.

"It was truly something, to be taken onboard the pirate ship. To see the looks on so many sad faces when they watched their comrades, the unfortunate souls left behind, tasked with piloting my ship to some miserable rundown docking port, erupted with a flash." Corvo mused. 

"O-oh, I see."

"The incinerated pilot, to my dismay, was Sanja's brother. My captor. We did not start off on, how do you say in your language, the proper foot?" 

"Right." Jaxon corrected.

"What is right?" 

"Nevermind, please, go on." 

"Well, naturally, when I was restrained and thrown into the cargo bay," the Chiss shook his head remembering that they didn't even have a proper holding cell, "a beautiful specimen stepped in to interrogate me. Her eyes were a hypnotic verdure and her hair was the color of fire, matching her personality. I spoke in cheunh, only to create tension as I understood your language then, but testing patience and resolve is an important step in getting to know your enemy."  

"But you didn't stay enemies?"

"She frequently grew impatient with me." Corvo smiled. "But when I spoke of my past and my people, she became hungry for more."

"But what of her brother?" 

"She forgave me in time. She realized that the life that her and her brother signed up for was filled with danger and uncertainty. She mourned, but ultimately she forgave."

"I see." Jax narrowed his eyes.

"Her interrogations became soft, sweet in a sense. She returned my answers with insight of her own. She told me of her past, her passions. I was enthralled by her. I loved her. In such a short amount of time."

"So what happened, why are you not together now?" 

"Because she's dead, my boy."

"Dead, how?"

"I overheard her talking with the rest of her crew. They wanted me dead, and while her words seemed apprehensive, I couldn't take unnecessary risks. So, I did what I was taught to do, what I knew how to do, what survival required," Corvo paused for what seemed to be an eternity. "I slit her throat with a broken piece from my shackles." Corvo's eyes narrowed and his face grew stern. 

"Wha, what?" Jax stumbled through his words.

"I loved her, it's true. But she was always my enemy. She jeopardized my mission, she was a stepping stone that had I allowed her, would have weakened me."

A look of horror crept across Jax's face as he took a step back.

"You would do well to learn from this lesson. If I could so easily kill someone I loved. Think about what I could do to those I do not love." 

Outpost Besh Ragnath North Pole

The small outpost was a modest affair. The military capabilities of Scholae Palatinae were still overwhelming for the system and could easily annihilate and subjugate all other polities, however in the grand scheme of affairs they were modest at best. And as such Mauro Wynter was stationed for a time at the tiny outpost, manning the command center.

Wynter had flown down himself in his Tie Defender, with no escort and had greeted the small garrison of Praetorian Guard. The fact that the Empress’ own guards had to man the post was telling. What was more telling was that the rank and file of the Imperial Scholae Army did not take the posting. It was a thankless post, and to set the tone the Proconsul took command personally.

The monotony of holding a small garrison together overlooking nothing took its course fast. The support staff was small as was befitting the old Imperial prefab post. Besh had two dozen Praetorians, two Tie Fighters on patrol, and a handful of AT-STs. The support staff counted a communications technician, a medic, and four mechanics. It was the medic that caught his eye.

Her name was Sylvia Tanos. She had porcelain skin and white waist long hair tied up in a bun. Her drab gray military jumpsuit contoured her lithe body and her healthy bust. The other Praetorians took to her looks and demeanor, and Wynter was not blind to her charm. She eyed the Proconsul every time she made her rounds. He wanted to approach her but his position and his lifetime of military ethic forced him to remain neutral. Fraternization was a firm no-go for the man.

And yet, every time he saw her his eyes widened and he gained a jolt of energy. They began speaking little by little. In time a bond grew. How she got posted there was a mystery to Wynter at first. He checked her files and the true picture came to light. She was one of the refugees from Judecca that had came over with the Clan as they relocated. She came to Judecca ages ago as a slave that was rescued from pirates and had devoted her life to giving back. She was a true idealist and one that worked hard and strove to be of use.

That meant a lot to the jaded Proconsul. Wynter had come back to the Clan as a mercenary coaxed for the pay and the opportunity to lead once again. He didn’t plan on staying at the post for long, but Sylvia kept him there longer than he ever imagined. Why did he linger? The Proconsul being away from command at the grand level at such a small post meant a lot to the rank and file but at some point he would need to go back. How would he do it? He couldn’t reassign Sylvia to return to Judecca Station with him. Well he could, but that would raise questions. However – how could he allow her to languish here? That question vexed him.

Transylvanian

Mauro Wynter’s carriage arrived slowly to the entrance of the castle on a cold and rainy night. Transylvania was a terribly old and backward part of the crumbling Ottoman Empire. Or was it now part of Romania? The power politics of the great powers were a nuisance for scholars such as Mauro Wynter who was there on a mission to study the traditional folklore and the troubling cases that were being told of back in London. Wealthy minor nobles had made their way to the heart of London now that some liberties were allowed easing the flow of people and capital from the old backwaters to world capitals. And Wynter wanted to see for himself if the old folklore had any merit.

The aged count was known to be somewhat of a recluse. This was at odds with the suave and urbane Count Dracula that he had met in London last season. It was at the height of society season, before the gentry returned to their country seats. Naturally, Wynter did not come from one of the landed and ancient families of polite London society, he was a newly made man of letters that still had to make his mark and keep the patronage of his betters. What more refined way of coming back to society with stories of the primitive lands of Transylvania and Wallachia and the newly ‘freed’ Eastern Christians from the yoke of the Ottomans. What better yet than to come back with gossip on the Count that had stolen the fascination of London? What better way than to expose the man as a fraud and a charlatan.

The footman greated the carriage’s driver and stroke the main of the lead horse as he took the reins. The driver spoke to the footman in hushed tones as Wynter adjusted his riding clothes. His linens were terribly drafty and cold in the hinterland of the mountainous Carpathians. This was truly the land of the damned and ancient horrors, thought Wynter. He allowed the footman to help him down and grab his traveling bags. Before Wynter knew it his carriage was already gone. A chill rain down Wynter’s spine as he approached the castle’s doorway.

It was a monstrous castle, as old as the mountains themselves overlooking the castle. Pillars seemed to rise to the heavens made of crumbling stone. At the doorway the footman opened the terribly large and heavy door to reveal the host. It was the Count alright, but not as Wynter had remembered him. He was weathered, aged, and looked more like a corpse than a man. “Welcome to my home Mr. Wynter. I never imaged to see you so far away from Fleet Street. I must say I wasn’t expecting you but things are never what they seem here in Transylvania. Do you care to join me for a late supper?”

Wynter nodded slowly as he was escorted through a cavernous hall. Wynter sat with the Count as a small cadre of servants brought in serving bowls and many beakers and goblets. “Well then, shall we begin?”

The HK droid touched down from the repulsor lift as the door clinked open with a silent thud. The home world of Clan Vizsla was a lawless place, a hive of scum and villainy that catered to the exotic and those that wished to stay off the radar. The presence of the droid would raise no alarm bells, and that was exactly what Mauro Wynter had banked on by sending his droid back to his old Clan. He meant to send a message, and the droid, Ossus, would do it.

Ossus was not so much property of Mauro Wynter as a partner of sorts. Wynter had found the relic droid during his time with Clan Vizsla while on a mission. The heap of old parts looked little like a droid and more like rubble. However, Wynter had an eye for old technology due to his upbringing on Raxus Prime. He painstakingly rebuild the droid over a span of several months. Yet, Ossus memories and personality remained from his earlier career.

Ossue strode into the bar’s entry way and analyzed the environment. There were some guards to be sure, but every patron of the bar was heavily armed and deadly as a full fledged Mandalorian. And Ossus waited for his prey to arrive as he slunk into the shadows. The reason for the mission was one of revenge. Naturally, none of that mattered to Ossus. He owed a debt to Wynter and as such he was going in to exact retribution.

Wynter held no true grudge against his old Clan, but recent events had taken a turn. As the Proconsul of Clan Scholae Palatinae Wynter was a public figure. The fact that he had previously been a Mandalorian amongst other things made him a target for derision and scorn from his old clanmates in armor. An example had to be meted out. And Ossus waited for the next shift to arrive at the bar.

Time had little meaning to a droid, just more analog coding ticking away in his code. And yet, time did move as the next shift arrived at the bar. Patrons come and go, but it was the personnel behind the bar that mattered to Ossus. The bar was a front of course for Vizsla, Mandalorians meeting behind back keeping an eye on the economic transactions and contracts being issued from the bar. Ossus infrared scanners keyed in on the team of six Mandalorians behind the bar and methodically let his concealed blaster pistols drop from their holsters to his arm appendages. He keyed the safety off and slide forward with the silent grace and ease of a droid.

The first table of patrons went down without a fight. Headshots all around, the next table the drinkers had time to try to take cover and body shots were needed as well. Some of them might still be living just heavily injured. The next table was ready for the droid and Ossus took several wild shots that did little damage. He thumbed a detonator and tossed it center line of the bar. The blast disoriented the remainder of the patrons. The Mandalorians behind the bar were arming up for an attack. That was enough – Ossus had made his statement. He would retreat before the Mandalorians engaged and started a feud.

To My Beloved Bentre

Bentre, shall I compare you to the Rylothian lily?

When you walk, your steps are as graceful as the Rylothian lily in the wind

Ever turning, but lovely to the eye

When you speak, your voice is as sweet as the fragrance that permeates the entire room when Rylothian lilies are in full bloom

Bold, yet strong

Your love is as the vibrant colors of the Rylothian lilies

Intense, mystifying, and delightful

Just as I love to receive a bouquet of Rylothian lilies, so how I feel whenever you return to me on your long days of being a Consul to the clan.

So my dear Bentre, come to me and be my Rylothian lily

Bliss, Zorii so illuminous and willing. So beautiful and cunning. She moves with a style and ease. Her caresses so wild and loving, her hair and eyes so clear and inviting. She runs with abandon and longing. So close and yet so far.

In the way she moves, in the way she talks, in the way she endeavors to love and to live. Blissful and beguiling.

The love grows as the love shows. The love moves as it ebbs and flows. The love is the love of eons of longing and needing.

Oh Zorii Bliss, so wonderous and so unknown. She is an enigma made whole. Flesh so soft and so powerful, so meaningful and new.

Oh Bliss, oh Zorii. You break hearts in your wake as the tides on the wind. Why does she deceive me and leave me wanting her so?

Shades of the Past - A Clone's Tale.

The Centoa Facility Gamuslag Orian System 28 ABY

“Name. Rank. Designation.” The clone slowly opened his eyes and met those of the bearded man wearing the uniform of a Dlarit Admiral in front of him. He was disorientated but the words instantly came to him as his hand snapped into a salute. “Senth, Captain, Delta-19.” The Admiral studied him for a few seconds and nodded. “Make your way to the holding area Captain.” Senth saluted again, and as the flag officer moved to the next cylinder he glanced to his left to see a figure wearing the same white coverall he himself wore disappearing into another room. His eyes snapped back right to where the Admiral was addressing the occupant of the next cylinder. He was accompanied by a man with a tattooed face and red armour. Senth slowly stepped out of the cylinder, and began to walk down the corridor and passed into the next chamber. Eighteen other men with the same facial features but slightly different hair or face coverings were stood to attention in neat ranks and Senth quickly joined at the back, next to the one with “Delta-18” written on the breast of his coverall. He waited silently with the others for the next thirty minutes as slowly the remaining fifteen clones joined the ranks in the chamber. Finally the officer entered the room, still followed by the tattooed man.

“At ease!” the officer ordered. “I am Admiral Araic Simonetti, commander of the Dlarit Security Force and the Dlarit Special Operations Group, the latter of which you are now members of. It is our duty to protect Clan Naga Sadow and the Orian System in which they make their home.” He indicated the tattooed man stood next to him who silently surveyed the ranks. “This is Consul Macron Sadow, the leader of Clan Naga Sadow, who in turn serves the Clan Overlord, Astronicus Dlarit Sadow, the heir of Naga Sadow himself.” The tatooed man spoke up then. “As the Admiral has told you, I am the Consul of this Clan. For several months now since the Clan's withdrawal at Antei, the Admiral and I have worked to develop our cloning programme, to refresh our forces and improve their efficiency. And you are the ultimate result of those efforts, the Dlarit Advanced Commando programme. You are the best, the elite, given every ability and strength we can give you to serve our Clan and our members. Each of you is the best our military forces have at our disposal.” The Admiral waited for the Consul to finish and then spoke up. “Over the coming months your natural strengths and abilities will be honed through intense training and study. It will be hard, and difficult, and any that fail those standards will be terminated rather than that failure remain. And when it is done you will be assigned duties. You will guard and serve the Clan's senior members, you will be spread amongst our fleet and ground forces to enforce the Clan's authority and keep a watchful eye on our officers and crews, and you will guard our most secret locations. You will be the backbone of our forces and protect and serve at the highest level and with the highest efficiency. The Consul continued then. “As the Admiral has said. We expect the best from you and we will accept no failure. However we have every confidence that you will live up to our high expectations and the effort we have undertaken in your creation. For now you are dismissed. You will go to your assigned quarters and prepare for your training.” As one the thirty four Dlarit Advanced Commandos snapped to attention and saluted.

The next few weeks had been an intense cycle of classroom study and combat training. In the classroom they had listened to lectures about Clan Naga Sadow, including its history, it's politics, the make-up of it's forces and the geography of the Orian system and the wider Dark Brotherhood it was a part of. It had also included extensive education in biology, tactics, languages, technology and weapon craft and techniques around both surveillance and counter surveillance.
Their afternoons had spent in the training halls, both in hand to hand combat with each other practising both armed and unarmed techniques and in the firing ranges, as well as simulated missions against both each other and artificial opponents. These had included assassinations, anti terrorist operations and storming techniques and diplomatic protection.

Senth worked his way diligently through his training. Despite the weeks together there was little bonding amongst the DACs. Meal times were a silent affair as they ate their rations together on long benches, the classroom was quiet except for when a student was prompted to answer a question or offer a counter point to theory. Even the hand to hand combat was performed quietly and efficiently, the only voices those of the instructors. And in the evenings they ate silently and each returned to their small room with it's bunk, wardrobe and bathing facilities, where they meditated and contemplated the days lessons and activities before sleep. Senth, or Delta-19 as he was designated, found the routine and the expectations of his superiors reassuring and fulfilling. He was however beginning to observe changes in some of his fellow clones. Though most like himself went quietly and efficiently through their duties, he began to notice several becoming more heated in the combats, more driven in the classrooms to put themselves forward, and the usual calm visage expected of all the clones occasionally cracking into a smile of triumph at a success, or annoyance at a defeat, or amusement at the fall of another. The instructors and the Summit observers seemed to take notice of this but did not appear to comment. Senth resolved to do likewise and focus on himself and his own progression.

The next few weeks took them out of the classroom and the Centoa facility itself. Bundled onto shuttles at short notice, usually in the night or occasionally during mealtimes, they hastily donned their armour and readied their weapons. Together they explored the forest of Sepros and jungles of Aeotheran, hunting creatures for either defence or food, trekked across the frozen areas of Tarthos, performed high altitude jumps over high and low gravity moons, stormed ships and walked around the cities of Seng Karash trailing suspects or delivering packages under the noses of the authorities where detection would mean failure and detention.

Finally they were taken back to Centoa and each was taken to a dark room with an officer, stripped, and subjected to hours repeated screeching noises, interrogation, pain and beatings, and drugs designed to sap the will or confuse. Senth like his fellows went through all of this with a steely determination to succeed and offering no complaints.

Finally it came to and end. Each of the DACs were summoned to an office to meet the Consul and the Admiral. Each walked out with an assignment as indicated before. Some were assigned to members of the Summit or the Sons of Sadow to act as their personal agents. Others would assume the new position of Commissar in the regiments of the Dlarit Security force or aboard the capital ships, maintaining discipline and reporting unrest. Some were designated as liaisons with the other Clans of the Brotherhood or the Dark Council, or sent to subtly spy on them and other nearby forces. In turn each of them walked in and out, some of them showing triumph and a few annoyance in the traits that more of the clones had begun to display but Senth himself had yet to feel or understand. Finally as he watched the last leave. Delta-1 or Aurek, walked proudly out without a glance at Senth, heading for the Marakith Skyhook. Delta-19, now stood alone in the hall.

Senth continued to stand to attention in the empty room. For the first time doubts began to creep in. He had performed well throughout the training. His academic test scores and combat accuracy were not the best amongst the thirty four clones but it had consistently been in the top third. He had remained obedient and professional throughout. The only black mark on his record had been two weeks earlier when he had lost his mark on Aeotheran, but his backup Delta-5 had completed the mission and after the debrief no further action had been taken. Had he failed for some reason he did not understand? He knew that around a third of the clones had begun to display emotions and individuality. Perhaps that had been the intention for them? Was his own failure that of not developing in the way expected, to become more than a clone?

“Delta-19, report to the briefing office.” Senth quickly marched to the room and entered standing to attention and saluting. Behind the desk Admiral Simonetti and Consul Macron Sadow waited for him. “At ease Captain,” Macron said with a cold smile. “I am sure you are eager to hear your assignment, but unfortunately someone had to be last.” Senth displayed no emotion, his gaze focused on the wall behind the two leaders. The Admiral spoke up. “You have performed well Delta-19, and we have your assignment that reflects your abilities. We would like to brief you on it.” He paused. “You are to be assigned to the planet Kangaras. You are familiar with that location?” Senth was, though he was surprised by the mention of it. “Yes sir,” he replied, “former base of the True Brotherhood, who the Clan first en-counted and defeated there four years ago, sir.” Macron gave the same cold smile. “Indeed Captain, I was there myself on that mission. And now?” Senth thought, “Surveys were taken of the planet to determine if it was suitable for development or mining sir, but the geography and hostile creatures make it unsuitable for either. It was abandoned the following year.” The Consul smiled. “Well done Captain. You have studied well. That is the correct official response.” Simonetti nodded. “It is not however the truth. Kangaras, like this facility here on Gamuslag, is one of our more secretive black sites. We have a small presence there within the planets only permanent structure, Usharak Keep, where we conduct scientific experiments and surveillance.” Macron took over. “This is not official. Both the Dark Council, and the other Clan's of the Brotherhood, are wary of any clan expanding it's territory without agreement, in case we get above ourselves or reveal our presence to the rest of the galaxy. So officially we do not have any forces or facilities there. In reality we have a company strength force and several of our scientific community stationed there permanently. You understand the secrecy of this and you will work to maintain that.” “Yes sir.”

Macron waited a few seconds. “There is a secondary part of your duties. As Kangaras is secret we chose one of our members as prefect to oversee it. You are familiar with Battlemaster Malisane de Ath?” Senth nodded. “Yes sir, former Clan Envoy and Quaestor of Ludo Kressh. Now officially on sabbatical sir.” Macron nodded. “Indeed. You are being assigned to serve him as his official bodyguard and agent, as others have to ourselves and other Clan dignitaries. That being the case there are several things you should probably be aware of.” Senth felt his apprehension rising again. “Sir?” “He is, or was, a very promising rising member of the Clan,” Simonetti said quietly as he glanced at his Consul, “once intended for great things. However earlier this year he resigned from both Quaestor and a senior position within the Shadow Academy unexpectedly, and removed himself from view. His behaviour has become increasingly erratic, and given his past and who his father is we are concerned about him and what he might do next.” Senth looked back at the Consul who was watching him intently. “None of this is official as we said, Senth. You are being assigned as his agent, and of course your loyalty is now to him. However should anything concern you about his actions you should remember where you came from.” “Yes sir,” Senth replied. “Is he expecting me sir?” Simonetti shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact. Though many of the Summit, Prefects and Sons of Sadow responded enthusiastically to the DAC programme, Battlemaster de Ath made it clear he did not want or need a bodyguard and firmly rebuffed the offer.” Macron's smile became even darker, the tattooed Consul's eyes gleaming. “He is however having one anyway. And you are he.” “Indeed,” the Admiral added, “he will not be pleased, he will probably not mind his manners, so I suggest you mind yours.” “Yes sir.” “Good, then you are dismissed.”

Kangaras Undesignated System

Senth studied the view from the shuttles window curiously as it descended. The jungle of Kangaras was thick and dark, beyond anything he had seen on Aeotheran or Sepros. Ahead he could make out an ancient keep rising from amongst the jungle, on a clifftop with a single path up to it and a sheer drop behind. Surrounding the keep on each side he could just make out four small settlements, with what appeared to be flames burning in them rather than artificial lighting. As the keep grew larger he could make out Dlarit troops on the battlements, and several turbolasers built into the sides of the structure. The keep gave off a forbidding air he was unable to place. He felt the engines power down as the shuttle began to descend towards a clearing directly in front of the keep. When they landed the ramp lowered and he grabbed his bag and stepped out into the empty clearing. Ahead several Dlarit troopers stood to attendtion either side of a large entrance, over which stood a curious metallic portcullis that was open. As Senth made his way forward a female officer walked out of the gate and walked forward, her blonde hair in a tight bun and her black D:SOG uniform showing the rank of Major. Senth saluted her. “Captain Senth maam, reporting to the Prefect.” She looked at him curiously, noting his rank bars. “A Dlarit Advanced Commando. Well, well, well. We were wondering if one of you would grace us with your presence. I am Major Voss and I command the forces here. I will show you to the Prefect.” “Thank you,” he replied. “As you will be aware this is Usharak Keep,” she continued, “as you will be aware this is an unofficial Dlarit facility and security is high.” “I understand Major.” “Good,” she replied, “there is a certain amount of curiosity amongst my troopers about you DACs. Some are eager to meet you, some are naturally suspicious. We have heard all sorts of rumours. The Prefect himself seems to be keeping his thoughts guarded on the matter.

Senth did not reply. He followed her into the entrance hall and looked around. It was empty except for torches on the walls, and several corridors and winding staircases leading elsewhere. Then he stopped and his eyes opened in surprise. At waist height, six creatures that approached him. They each carried blaster carbines in their paws and pikes strapped to their backs. They had black fur, armour that seemed to be welded to their chests rather than worn, and dark suspicious eyes that suddenly focussed on him suspiciously and intently. There was something deeply unsettling and predatory about them that even the usually fearless clone could sense. He looked at the Major who was regarding him with an amused look. “Are they..?” She nodded. “The Sith-spawned Ewoks. Bred here on Kangaras by our Consul and the Prefect himself. Be very, very wary of them. To those they trust they are intensely loyal. To others they are deadly and merciless. They hunt in packs and I have never seen them back down from anything, and when you meet some of the creatures that call this planet their home that you will appreciate the significance of that.” She raised the communicator on her hand and spoke into it, and an unpleasant noise began to emerge from it, apparently translating her words though into what he was not sure. Though he had not studied ewokese, he had heard some of it in videos and this was something very different. The creature's gaze left the clone, glanced at her, and then spread out, walking around and past them outside through the gate. Senth watched them go. “Do they live here?” She shook her head. “No they have their own villages. Four of them, each two miles from the keep, with one hundred and fifty of them living there. They patrol the area around us and drive off the more vicious creatures that come too close. They seem to enjoy it, though I suppose they were conditioned to.” Senth remembered the look they had given him. He had not seen that look on any creature or person he had encountered either in the Orian jungles or the frozen wastes. And there were six hundred of them out there? He felt a slight shiver.

He followed her up the stairs and down a corridor until they reached a heavy wood door. She knocked on it. “Enter!” a voice called. She pushed it open and saluted the figure sat at the desk. “Prefect, I have with me Captain Senth reporting for duty sir, a Dlarit Advanced Commando.” “Show him in.” Senth entered and also saluted the man sat at the desk, studying him. The Battlemaster was of average height but well built, and had shortly clipped black hair above a pair of blue eyes. The eyes studied him and for a second their intensity matched those of the ewoks he had met a few moments ago. “You are dismissed Major.” “Yes sir,” she saluted and left. The Battlemaster's eyes continued to study the clone. “So, you are Delta-19?” “I am sir, reporting for duty. You should have received my orders, sir.” “I did indeed,” Malisane replied, “I made it clear to Macron and Simonetti I neither desire nor need a bodyguard. And yet here you are Delta-19.” “Yes sir.” “So what do I do with you now Delta-19?” “I am here to obey your orders and carry out whatever duties you see fit,” Senth replied, keeping his features neutral. Malisane nodded. “Very well. Your orders are to find a shuttle, return to Sepros, despatch the Consul and the Admiral, and then terminate yourself.” Senth fought to keep his expression passive and focused his gaze on the wall behind the Prefect. He felt a rise in irritation he had not experienced before. “That would be contradictory to my primary directives, sir.” “I see Delta-19. Then in the time being find yourself quarters in the keep and await further instructions. You may amuse yourself in whatever way you are conditioned to until you are needed, should that ever be the case.” Senth saluted. “Very good Prefect.” He turned sharply and left the room.

He sat with his eyes closed on the floor by the single bed. The room was small and functional, reminding him of his quarters back at the Centoa facility. The main difference was that where this old quarters had gleaming white walls, this was dark grey stone. A small window at one end gave a view of the dark jungle in the distance, with a shimmering forcefield keeping the heat in and hostile forces out. As he sat focusing on his breathing he contemplated his experience since arrival. The encounter with the seemingly sociable Major, the sinister alchemically altered ewoks and the both sinister and unsociable Battlemaster had been a trial. His emotions throughout were new and unsettling. Where there had been tranquillity and simple obedience and compliance to the rules and his training there was now conflict and confusion as he fought between feelings of doubt, irritation, and apprehension. Was this what the other DACs had experienced? If this was personal growth, he was unsure whether it was positive or negative. He knew he had to deal with it though.

His eyes opened as the communicator on the wall beeped. He stood smoothly. “Captain Senth here.” “Delta-19”, the Prefects voice came through, “a situation has arisen that I feel will be a good test for your advanced commando abilities.” “Yes sir?” “You are to proceed to the following coordinates I am relaying now, within the jungle. We have received reports from our patrols of something that may be an intruder or a probe. You will investigate and report back.” “I understand sir.” “Very good. Then proceed Delta-19”

Senth sat on the BARC speeder as he guided it through the dark jungle, the sensor display in front of him showing any movement ahead. There was some small signs of life out there, but nothing major. He was still within two miles of the keep, the area the Major had referred to as patrolled, which the other troopers dubbed the 'Ewok Exclusion Zone'. His target coordinates were two miles beyond that, where anything could happen. He again felt a rise in curiosity, and something else, an anticipation of events to come. He glanced at his display and saw a red line on the map, helpfully programmed into the speeders computer to indicate he was leaving the safe zone. He focused now. Hopefully most of whatever lived out here were active during the daytime and peaceful at night. The alternative was a concern however. Still he'd been on Sepros how much worse could it be.

His senses heightened at the sound of a blaster bolt and he felt something hit the speeder, which began to shake as sparks burst from behind him and though he couldn't smell it beneath his helmet a quick glance behind him revealed smoke began to trail from the back where flames began to emerge. He pushed the throttle forward, accelerating it for a few seconds as a second blaster bolt scorched over his shoulder. He felt the BARC shake and heat from behind him began to sink through his armour. With no other option he released his grip and jumped, feeling a jot as his jetpack fired up lifting him upwards, another blaster bolt passing beneath him. He saw the explosion as the speeder hit a tree, and then there was silence. He manoeuvred himself a bit further up and landed on a thick tree branch, ducking down. Pulling his own blaster from his back he surveyed the quiet surroundings. His display revealed several movements, something flying nearby and a large creature moving ponderously across the ground below to the west. Neither of which were likely to carry blasters. Then there was a movement in a tree nearby and another bolt scorched through the air towards him. He ducked and fired back. There was another shot from behind and he dropped backwards off the tree branch, falling towards the ground. As he reached it he fired a short burst from his jetpack, just enough to land smoothly on the ground.

He ducked and hid behind a bush, gripping his blaster carbine as his mind raced. This was odd. He was over a mile from the target coordinates he had been sent to investigate. Perhaps they were wrong, or whatever had been detected was on the move towards the keep? He raised his head, his helmet scanner revealing nothing as his gaze swept across the surroundings. The blasts had come from different directions, and some of them were from above high in the treetops. Whatever was firing at him were both small and manoeuvrable, droids maybe? As he considered that his scanner picked up a quick movement and he ducked as something hit the shoulder pauldron of his armour, scraping across it leaving a groove. He hit the ground and lay still, his helmet turning as he reached out and grabbed something long and metallic, pulling it towards himself. It was a black pike that had been thrown at him, like the ones he had seen earlier in the keep. A dreadful suspicion hit him, as suddenly he heard a high pitched series of cries, and more blaster bolts scorched towards him.

Senth rolled and his hand went to his belt, pulling the imploder from it and activating it. He waited for a few seconds until he heard soft movement, and then threw it into the bushes nearby. There was an explosion nearby shaking the trees, and then a much larger one that ripped through the surrounding area throwing dirt and wood from the ground up into the air, and above it he heard a loud screech of pain that was quickly silenced. Quickly he was on his feet and he thumbed the controls of his jetpack, sending him upwards once more as he fired at more indications of movement, and return fire narrowly missed him. His gaze swept up to a creature huddled on a tree branch above. He could not see it's eyes watching him, but he knew it was and it fired at him, missing his body but hitting the jetpack on his back. For the second time again he heard a burst of explosion from behind him and as the jetpack burst into flames he hit the release on his chest and began to fall, reaching out for a handhold as the ground rushed towards him. His hands caught a tree branch and he gripped it as it creaked but held and his arms burned as they took his weight. He looked upwards. He knew there were still more of the creatures up there, and on the ground below. He was a sitting target. He braced himself and let go, falling to the ground and hitting it hard, rolling. He had lost his blaster carbine and drew the smaller pistol from his belt. Slowly he raised himself up. Then he heard the loud whine of repulsor engines and looked up towards a shuttle lowering towards him and landing on the ground nearby. Above the engines he heard a voice shouting through the speaker, not in basic but in the strange language he had heard earlier.

Then the voice changed to understandable galactic basic. “Captain Senth, is that you?” Senth waited for a few seconds. Was this a trap? “Captain Senth, I repeat. This is Major Voss. We detected an explosion and the trail from your speeder. If you can here please respond.” The shuttle ramp lowered revealing light and an armoured figure holding a blaster rifle, as two more followed down the ramp. Slowly the clone raised himself up cautiously. “I am here Major.” She walked towards him. “Are you alright? I have given the withdrawal command, the ewoks are responding. They patrol this area but should not have attacked you.” Senth nodded as he approached her. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.” She inclined her head. “Good. We had better get you back to the keep. The medics can look at you.” The clone followed up the ramp. “I do not need medics. I need to speak to the Prefect.”

As soon as the shuttle landed Senth walked down the ramp. His armour was dirty and slightly battered, and the back was scorched from the backpack fire. He made a grim sight as he pulled off his helmet and carried it under his arm, walking past the curious troopers at the gate and up the stairs and down the corridor towards the Prefects office. He knocked loudly on the door. “Enter.” The Prefect was sat behind his desk still. Malisane regarded the clone curiously as he stood to attention and saluted. “I see you have returned Delta-19.” Senth looked back at him. He felt the increasingly familiar surge of annoyance building to anger now, but once more he fought to control it. “Permission to speak freely, sir?” A faint smile touched the Battlemaster's lips. “Granted.” “I followed your orders Prefect, and was ambushed by the Sith ewoks. They seemed to be waiting for me.” “And you seem to have survived Delta-19.” Senth looked into the Sith's blue eyes. “Were there any reports of an intruder or probe Prefect?” “No.” The reply was short and simple. “You sent me into an ambush, sir.” Senth replied. It was no longer a question. “Yes I did Delta-19,” Malisane replied calmly, “I sent the ewoks on nearly the same mission as yourself, to find and eliminate an intruder in the jungle, along with your route.” “Why?” Senth demanded. “You have no place here Delta-19,” Malisane replied, “you are an agent of the Clan Summit. And you are an anomaly. I have studied enough history. I am aware of the jedi purge, the so called Order 66. I do not know what I have stood in front of me except that it is a weapon forced on me I can neither trust nor control.” “I am a person as much as you, Prefect,” Senth replied, still struggling against the anger. “You are a creation,” Malisane replied, “the soldiers out there lead by Major Voss are loyal and the best in our military. They obey orders without question, but they are people. You are no more than the ewoks we created who attacked you out there. Except that when we do not need them they amuse themselves. They hunt, they dance despite our conditioning, and on a clear night you can even hear drumming and singing drifting across the jungle. But I have read the file on your creation and they did not even include that level of humanity, Delta-19.” “You are wrong Prefect,” Senth replied coldly, “I am learning. And despite how I came into this world I am an officer in the Dlarit Special Operations Group and I am loyal to Clan Naga Sadow.” He felt his anger still but now it was becoming easier to control and focus. “I was sent here to serve you, despite them knowing you did not want me here. I did not pick this assignment and it is clear why I was the last to be assigned. However I am here now though until I am ordered otherwise. And though I have to obey your orders there is nothing in my conditioning or orders that say I have to allow myself to be killed. So do not attempt that again Prefect unless it is for Naga Sadow. As you know my training is extensive.” Malisane studied him thoughtfully. “Very well then,” he replied, “perhaps there is more to you. I guess we will see. You are dismissed, Captain Senth.” Senth saluted. “Yes, sir” He turned and left the office.

Inos 13 Orian Space 10 Years later

Lieutenant Colonel Senth of the Orian Warhost stood watching as the members of his Clan boarded the shuttles from the Perdition, as the wounded Pro Consul was stretchered into a medical transport. He look at the immense corpse of the Sigma Queen with a slight shudder, and then up to where more medics were reviving the survivors of his command. Perhaps half of them would not be leaving the moon alive. He sighed. So many had died over the years. He was the last of the thirty four Dlarit Advanced Commandos, created to serve their clan long ago. They had been the first batch and the last, forgotten now by all except the oldest of the Clan. His gaze moved to where two troopers supported the exhausted form of Battlelord Malisane Sadow, the familiar Sith had for years been something between an ally and annoyance to the clone. Beneath his helmet Delta-19 smiled slightly, then followed them into the last shuttle.

Manually added by Colonel Alethia Archenksova

Ellac sipped the glass of wine in his hand as the alarm beside his bed chimed. He had woken up a few hours ago, but he forgot to turn it off. Ceremonies always put him in a contemplative mood. Clicking the power to the alarm, Ellac turned his gaze back to the viewport in his room, staring out into space. His mind drifted to thoughts of his home on Raxus and of his parents. A life he had left behind for the Brotherhood.

Another chime interrupted his thoughts, his holoprojector beeping on the table behind him. “And so the day goes on,” he said to himself, gulping down the last of his drink. The holoprojector flickered to life as Ellac picked up the device, his master’s image forming in his hand.

“Today’s the award ceremony. Wear something nice.” Sykes’ voice echoed softly around the room.

“Good morning to you, too,” Ellac chuckled. “And I’m already dressed.” He looked down at the his black suit.

“Good. I’ll see you there.” Sykes said, ignoring his first comment. The image faded as Ellac’s room fell back into silence.

“Oh well. Time to get moving,” Ellac said as he set the empty glass on the table, picking his A180 blaster up as he clipped the projector next to the lightsaber on his belt. “I’d rather have it and not need it.” he thought to himself, holstering the pistol. Grabbing his cape from the rack beside the door, Ellac left for the ceremony hall.

“You clean up nice.” A voice said beside Ellac as he stepped into the lift that would take him directly to the award hall. “Well, aside from the… you know.” Already standing inside the lift, Adept Kamjin Lap’lamiz smirked as he gestured at Ellac’s missing eye.

“If I remember correctly, I have you to thank for this little souvenir.” Ellac chuckled as he input the floor number into the lift controls. “Given the occasion, I’m not sure if I should be calling you Maverick or ‘Sir’,” he said, extending his hand towards the Sector Admiral.

“It’s a special night. You can call me ‘Sir’ if you’d like, but just for tonight.” Kamjin smiled as he shook the young man’s hand. “I hear you got promoted. ‘Hunter Ellac Conrat’. Congratulations.”

“You had a part to play in that, Sir. Thank’s for giving me a chance back on Arx.”

“You know what? I’ve changed my mind. No more formalities for you.” The two men laughed as the lift slid to a stop, the doors opening to the entrance of the ceremony hall. “Well then. Shall we?”

Manually added by Battlelord Malisane Sadow

Beware traveller Danger lurks all around you Fear the Dark unknown

Betrayal, Strife, War The Darkness descends on you Death comes on swift wings

Biting teeth, sharp claws Terror, wailing, blood, gore, death The Darkness draws near

The Darkness is all Ignorance is no excuse You must heed our words

The Citadel

Estle City

Selen

Flames and smoke curled into the night sky above Estle City, circling three suns resting above the towering mountain …

Her heartbeat pounded behind her ears, drowning out her quiet footsteps echoing through the hall. A dark tan, vine-inked hand tightened around the bo-rifle strap slung on her shoulder, the knuckles slowly losing color as her chest constricted.

Two fading eyes, one blue and one white, pleading for help instead of the steady, too mature reassurance ...

She needed her. This tiny soul that has soothed her countless times, making promises before she could even affect the world about her. She needed her now.

Zujenia continued running through the Citadel, slowing down only to weave through the odd group here and there. She honed in on one light in particular, burning bright and familiar yet shrouded with pain, worry. As the half-Ryn rounded the last corner, she slid to a stop in time to see the Grand Hall's doors open and people exiting.

Atyiru. Zujenia stepped towards her master, friend, sister -- only to stop and notice the bundle in her arms, the small cries coming from it. And for the first time since she woke in a cold sweat this morning, she took a deep breath. Kirra, she was here, safe and sound. But...something wasn't right still.

"Atty," the shorter hybrid approached the other, "I came as quick as I could. I heard her warning, and..." Zujenia paused, peering down at the so petite and tan face, the mismatched eyes pinched tight with tired, fitful crying. The urge to console rose and her hand slowly rose to meet the new but known child, two souls meeting in the flesh.

"Zujibean," Atty's tired and strained voice replied, the usual warmth and thankfulness lingering beneath it as a shadow. She adjusted her hold on her precious bundle to safely envelope the half-Ryn with one arm, pulling her in and taking a breath of that ever present baked bread smell. "I'm supposed to tell you that she came as fast as she could, whatever that means."

At her words, Zujenia pulled her gaze away from the babe, amber eyes staring at Atty's blindfold for a moment. Those words were echos heard from dreams past. "It's…" How does she explain that Kira has long walked in her nightmares? And older as well when she had not even graced the outside world yet. "I'll explain later, promise."

Her hand redirected from offering her finger to the infant, to squeeze Atyiru's arm as she focused back to the weariness emitting from the Miraluka. She needed to help, needed intel,what was happening? Something dire. These two were safe. So...

"Marick?"

Atyiru was gone.

She had left with the others, determined to bring the one she shared a heart with back home safely.

And she had left Kirra with her. To protect.

Her amber eyes passed one last look into the throne room behind her. Leda sat on one of the steps of the serpentine dias, her knees drawn up and hugged to her chest as her brother, Noga passed before her. His hands clasped and unclasped with the yearning to have a weapon to hold, to fight with. Zujenia could tell he was worried for his fathers, for his sister. Her gaze moved to the red haired human semi-rocking and attempting to soothe the newborn hybrid, almost seemlessly covering up the her uncomfortability with the infant's antics.

Lucine locked eyes with Zujenia and the two sister apprentices exchanged nods. It had been agreed that Lucine would stay with the children, while the half-Ryn stood as the line of defense if the enemy slipped through the Citadel guards' hands.

With a last final deep breath, Zujenia closed the double doors. Pulling her bo-rifle from her shoulder and expanding it to its staff length, the purple electricity highlighting her ashen hair, Zujenia planted herself before those doors. The Force around her dampened under her hand.

I will protect you, Kirra.

That is my promise.