Fiction Gallery

The Old Tongue Format - Free Verse

DESCRIPTION

A code cylinder of ancient design. Carved out of bone. This archaic piece has an assortment of ancient sith words carved into it and is still tinted with an ink that may very well be blood. The handles are black in coloration and red pieces of fabric, giving way to age, adorn them. The roller itself is hand-carved and the words appear to be randomly placed. However, upon proper alignment through Force divination and when the cylinder is saturated and then rolled onto a parchment, the words are ordered into what can best be described as a prophetic vision of a future plague snuffed out by a 'Maverick'.

When the stars align A man bearing a sign Of war and endless blight

Shall enter our world Shaking our core Like the quakes of mysteries might

Death shall come in the night..

Eyes are focused A mouth consumes like the locust Devouring the Force with a bite

He comes like wrath Spilling blood for a bath To wash the Force from his sight

Visions of seven Crippling the brethren Of guilds made of metal and bone

Darkness ascending This tale is unending A Maverick sits on an iron throne

(4224) Gui Sol

The object before you is a rough-hewn obsidian cylinder, forty centimetres long and five centimetres in diameter, that seems to have been knapped from a larger piece of material with primitive hand tools. Strangely, the cylinder is always frigid to the touch, regardless of the surrounding temperature. Small, blocky glyphs in ancient Sith have been inscribed in a mesh pattern around the cylinder, giving it the appearance of being wrapped in fine chains. When light strikes the cylinder just right, the rough-carved surface creates reflections that look uncannily like the Human faces. Researchers who have come into close contact with the artifact report that after spending extended periods in close proximity to it, they begin to have auditory hallucinations that resemble jingling chains and crying children.

The translation of the glyphs inscribed on the cylinder is given below.

For sorc'rors with the will to mould their fate who find before them many threats arrayed, an incantation fuelled by ancient hate and deepest darkness will see them unmade.

This cylinder obsidian contains energies drawn from vilest sacrifice of children draped, by royal whim, in chains and thrown into a sea entombed in ice.

A cunning sorc'ror who ignites a fire and into it, this cylinder, extend will summon these tormented spirits' ire and bring enemies to a ghastly end.

And thus, if you face a superior foe, this ritual cast, and bring upon them woe!

(The "inscription" was written as an English sonnet in iambic pentameter, rhyming scheme ABAB CDCD EFEF GG. Because I can. :P)

Written in Haiku

Night burial vault A forgotten casket glows beyond the knowledge

Unseeable dark A forbidden power waits because of the corpse

Imperfect gravesite A divine, taken right gives despite the secret

Grieved break of day A stolen treasure curses at the perfect thief

A box of smooth black stone, approximately 25 centimeters long, 20 centimeters wide, and 13 centimeters tall. The long sides of the box are inscribed with ancient Sith runes of the incantation. The short sides have been engraved with various macabre imagery and symbols of death. The lid is devoid of decoration save for a single emblem etched into the surface. This symbol is unknown to all, forgotten to time. The lid will not open save for reciting the incantation in the tongue of the Sith. Inside are a collection of very old, very withered finger bones that radiate with a dark energy.

One of the Collective agents who infiltrated the Shadow Academy has been neutralized and the artifact he was carrying has been recovered. This artifact is a small blade. I use a blade to refer to the item as it is longer than a dagger but not quite long enough to qualify as a sword, perhaps it should then be considered a short sword. The blade is a functional weapon, as many Sith artifacts have a tendency to be. It appears to have served some sort of ritualistic purpose, as even now the blade has a supernatural tang of blood around it. Personally, being near the blade is unnerving enough due to the bizarre smell, but the many incantations engraved into the blade which seem to glow when looking at it from the corner of one’s eye is enough to set myself and other researchers on end. The writing was translated by one of our staff who understood the written word of the Ancient Sith. This haiku below is a translation of the writing found upon the blade.

We are the chosen Of blackened hearts and pure blood We stand tall and proud

Dominating all No one can stand in our way Conquer, loot, destroy

A jedi fallen Brought us knowledge of the force Enabled our rise

We can never stop Needs never satiated They drive us onward

Major Hector Ricmore CVS Adjudicator Zsoldos system, Wild Space

Hector Ricmore lay comfortably in his cot ready to get some shut-eye after a long day. His arm still ached on occasion from the injury he received during the Trials of Ullr but the medical staff assured him that it was healing and all would be well in time. Double checking that the bacta patch was in place on the wound, the Zygerrian closed his eyes and rolled onto his side as he began to drift off to sleep.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Ngh” Hector mumbled in his sleep sleeping through the sound.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Hnnn” He mumbled and shifted his pillow over his ears, trying to block out the sound.

BEEP BEEP BEEP

“Alright! I’m up!” The Zygerrian rolled out of bed and answered his comm with a snarl on his face.

“What do you want?”

“My most sincere apologies for waking you sir, but we have a communication from Dral Falgorth. He is rather insistent on meeting with you and is claiming that it is urgent.”

Hector sighed. “Alright, I’m on my way.”

The feline humanoid slid out of bed. Not bothering to change, as the matter was apparently urgent, he walked to the cockpit of his shuttle whilst still in his sleep wear.

Entering the cockpit, Hector made eye contact with the holographic figure of Dral Falgorth. The muscular human managed to cut a heroic figure with his polished set of Pure Beskar Armor and his majestically long beard which reached down to his chest.

Standing at the same height but clad only in his sleepwear, Hector felt a bit lacking in comparison to his Battle Team Leader.

“I’m sorry to contact you at such a late hour Hector but this is an urgent matter. Appius has gone missing.”

A look of disbelief crossed Hector’s face. “I’m sorry sir can you repeat that? I thought I heard you say that Appius was missing.”

“You heard right Hector. As one of the last people to hear from him I am placing you in charge of the investigation. I’ve updated your security clearance to give you access to all of Appius files and his office.”

Hector nodded solemnly, a frown visible upon his face. “I understand sir, I’ll get started right away.”

Dral’s hologram nodded and flickered before fading out completely.

Hector paused for a moment to collect his thoughts before addressing his crew. “Bring us down to Zsoldos, We’ll land right at the Wren base. I’m going to freshen up and get ready for the investigation.”

“Yes sir.” The crew responded as they began the process of descending to the planet's surface.

Hector returned to his quarters. He donned his armor, slipped on his fuel pack, and made sure both his flamethrower and blaster were loaded. He then returned to the cockpit as the shuttle finished its descent towards the planet’s surface.

Lowering the ramp, Hector exited the ship and made his way towards the House Wren base. He moved with a single minded purpose, ignoring the groups of soldiers on guard as he marched ever closer to Appius' office and hopefully, some answers.

The Zygerrian entered the room, noting the neat piles of paper and abandoned holoterminal. Taking a seat at the terminal Hector booted it up, intent on finding out something. He attempted to access it with the codes given to him by Dral only for the attempt to fail.

After a few attempts a question prompt appeared on the screen: During my time as a birdwatcher what was my favorite bird of prey?

Hector blinked in surprise, as far as he knew Appius had not participated in such a hobby. But if that was the case then what could the missing Jedi be referring to?

Hector reread the question again and again. It was looking specifically for a bird of prey. What birds did he know of that fit that moniker? Ravens, Shriek-Hawks, Falcons… Hector’s eyes shot open in realization. Falcon. The Millenial Falcon was the ship that he and Appius flew together in. Inputting the name of the ship Hector gave a cry of joy as the terminal sprang to life. The Zygerrian’s eyes fell upon the familiar visage of Appius Wight. The human appeared pale and haggard, with dark circles under his eyes, which were unsettlingly tinged with red and yellow.

“If you are listening to this recording I assume that you are either in the presence of, or at the very least, an associate of Hector Ricmore. I intended this message to be found by you, my friend and I hope you can pass on the news to the clan as a whole. First off I need to apologize for my disappearance, I need to get away and think about somethings. The artifact we brought back from Plagueis, that damned sphere, is making everything worse. I can hear whispers goading me, telling me to act. Hector, you’ve no doubt noticed by now that things aren't right. I’ve felt this growing...darkness inside me. It’s been eating away at me since Meridian, a gnawing anger at my inability to act, to save them. I need to get a handle on this darkness before it becomes too late, it’s too dangerous to remain in the clan with those I have come to view as comrades. Goodbye Hector, I hope that we meet again.”

The recording flickered and died. In its place a series of numbers and data appeared detailing the relic held on the Battleteam Deathwatch marauder. Scrolled in the margins of the data were notes from Appius on potential countermeasures for the disposal of the relic.

Hector closed his eyes and hoped that one day he would see his friend again. He began the process of copying the data onto a datadisk he found within the desk that the terminal sat upon. Giving the room one last look, Hector walked back to his ship with the intention of reporting his findings. Appius may be gone for the foreseeable future but he left valuable information that could potentially save lives put in danger by the dark side relics of Clan Plagueis.

Aeotheran Underneath Pandaemonium 2300 hours

“And you knew about this... how?” Raist heard over the comm in his helmet as he and his strike team navigated narrow sewage tunnels

He was tempted not to respond, but his ego got the best of him “You I know I built this place, right?” Raistlin asked. He didn’t expect an answer nor did he get one.

The team was approaching the Pandaemonium docks and rather then wait, Raistlin decided to go in, strike hard and get the supplies needed for HSD. The strike team was 5 members not including himself, two humans, a Devaronian, a Rodian, and someone who was clad in armor, she came from a species Raistlin had not seen before. Unfortunately he didn’t learn their names nor did he have time to ask, but they were hand picked by Malisane to assist him in his task. He code names the two humans the twins, the Devaronian was just Dev, the Rodian was Snout and the Armored mystery woman was Fort. True to their backing, none of them complained and so far, they seemed every bit the part Malisane had advertised.

Raistlin as point lead held his hand up to freeze the group. They immediately brought blaster rifles up and fanned out to take cover and check angles. The Seer motioned upward, and using the small light he had installed in his helmet, illuminated where they would be exiting. Though it was easily 8 feet above Raistlin’s head, he paused briefly and leapt into the air, his head coming within inches of what looked to be a manhole covering. With laser precision and accuracy he ignited his lightsaber and cut around the hole, neatly creating a sufficient opening as both he and the grate dropped to the ground. The grate would have made more noise, had the Seer not slowed it’s decent back down

Methodically and with minor aid from the Force he boosted every one of the members of his team up to the ground level as he went last. Once above ground the team immediately found cover to survey their surroundings

The docks of Pandaemonium were made to house large vessels, so the small 30 foot personal craft that was housed there was almost wide open. From Raist’s quick scan he guessed about two dozen or so hostiles of different species. They were working rapidly so he knew their departure was most likely imminent. They had to act fast.

He clicked on comms. “Two teams, twins with me, rest of you left side, swim underneath them and come out up top, I’m going top side to draw fire for the rest of you. Any questions?” Raist asked. They looked at him crazily, as if he was singlehandedly going to wade into dozens of soldiers, but he smiled “Then let’s dance.” He said and immediately broke into a run

The two teams quickly submerged and began two swim around as the Seer ignited his green lightsaber and charged. Raistlin’s speed was such that he was on the dock before the first blaster bolt was fired. He parried it and two more before ducking behind a set of crates. He popped up momentarily to throw his lightsaber like a boomerang, it raced around, decaptiating two hiding pirates before returning to his outstretched hand.

Raist sprung ahead. Five more pirates were ready for him and greeted him with a wall of blaster fire that he narrowly avoided by diving off the dock and grabbing on as he almost fell underneath. He flung himself back up and with incredible quickness drew his blaster pistol, every shot true, felling one opponent, then two.

The suppressing fire against him was increasing exponentially every second and he felt the odds turning against him. Just as he was was about to spring into an all out assault, the rest of his strike team popped out from the water.

The pirates lasted less then a minute caught in cross fire and taken completely unaware. They were mowed down with only one injury, a bolt nailing the Rodian in the leg, forcing him to need medical attention. Rather then wait, Raistlin kneeled down and through the Force, was able to calm his pain and heal his wound to the point of stabilizing the limb.

He quickly checked the boat to find the supplies, and sure enough, loaded into the cargo hold was military grade hardware and technology.

Raist commed Malisane “Mission accomplished, get a transport here for exfil.” With that he began dragging the supplies to the deck as they waited for their ride home. Not too shabby today.

Daler was entering a room inside the ACE's Corporate Headquarters, looking for someone that would look like an important person. He had heard that there was a chance for a less than legal contract which he could have used. The Nautolan found a Human woman with an earpiece, talking about what sounded like important business. She had brown hair and black eyes with an imposing posture.

"Listen, if we're not getting 2 million credits, the ships won't be made. The manufacturing is expensive and what you want is very specific. Is that clear? Very well, goodbye," the woman angrily said.

"Good morning, I'm here to talk to Mr. Ghosan. Is he available?" the Nautolan asked.

"Ah, you must be Daler. We're sorry, but you can't speak directly to the CEO. I'm the one you are supposed to talk to. I'm Eva."

"Daler, but I guess you already know. So, I'm going to need information. The location and the other details," the Force Disciple whispered.

"Yes, right here." The Human handed him a Datapad with all the information he needed. The Nautolan read the details in 4 minutes and was ready to go when he was stopped by the woman.

"Is there a problem?"

"We need to keep in contact with you. I have a map of the place and I'll need you to guide you to the server room."

"Right, get the blueprints, destroy their copies," Daler said.

"Give me your Comlink. I just need to connect it to my... done! Now we can talk. Remember, you're taking the place of one of their tech guys. Good luck," Eva voiced.

"Thanks. I'll be back in no time."

The Nautolan was dropped off near the entrance of ACE's competitor, on a station, by a GX1 Civilian Short Hauler with all of his gear, including slicing equipment.

"Daler, can you hear me?" The voice was heard from the Force Disciple's Comlink.

"Loud and clear. Try to keep it down."

"Right. There's a body scanner at the entrance, I've disabled it but only for 30 seconds. You'll have to get through it at the end so be careful with your slicing stuff," the Human informed him.

Daler went through the entrance with no problems, but he was met by a Togrutan guard a few steps after he entered.

"You're the new tech guy? Sheesh, did they run out of people to hire?"

As the guard kept talking, the Nautolan thought of a way to escape the conversation. He focused on the guard, forcing him hear a beeping sound a few feet behind him.

"What was that?"

"You better go check," the Force Disciple told the Togrutan before he ran off.

"Alright, the server room is not far. Take a left and the second room on the right is it," the Human said through the comlink.

When he found the room, he was surprised by a door with an eye scanner.

"Eva, there's an eye scanner on this door. Did you get it?"

"What? There's no eye scanner on the digital blueprints. I can't find anything like that."

"Must be a separate system. I can slice into it, don't worry," the Nautolan uttered. He pulled out a computer spike and put it into the appropriate place on the eye scanner, configuring it to work on all tries. Daler then scanned his eye and took back his computer spike, allowing him entrance.

"Nice job. Now get me into the system," the woman said from the Comlink.

"Don't worry, I can handle this." The Force Disciple then placed his computer probe into one of the server racks' plugs. He copied every blueprint onto his datapad and deleted the originals from the source.

"Good job, Daler. Now you can return."

"You know what? If I deleted all of their security files from the servers, they probably wouldn't know. How about I do it?"

"Everything that destroys our competitors is something that helps ACE."

The Nautolan deleted everything that seemed vaguely connected to security, which allowed him access out of the building with no interruptions.

"You know your way back. Make sure you don't run into someone."

"I know my stuff. I also know how to avoid people."

The Force Disciple returned to the entrance and didn't see a single person, passing through the body scanner with no sign of alarm, silent or otherwise.

"You'll be picked up by the same ship you were dropped by. Well done, your reward has been transferred," the Human happily said.

"And your blueprints are... in your servers. Marked special_delivery for your convenience," the Nautolan uttered as he sent the files.

"It was a pleasure doing business with you. May the Force be with you, is that what you say?"

"It was my pleasure. And not really, I usually don't say it, but, may the Force be with you too," the Force Disciple voiced before his Comlink was disconnected.

Welcome Home

Kar Alabrek Tarthos Orian Space

Malisane stood over his pilot's shoulder in the cockpit as the Deathshead made it's final approach. Below battle raged through the streets of the city surrounding the cathedral. He had not been here much since the completion of the work he had done all those years ago. Possibly an award ceremony at some point or other, he could not recall. It had changed, the cathedral and it's city had an unfortunate habit of being razed and rebuilt numerous times over the years. He idly wondered if given the frequency of this whether it even was the same cathedral? He had not intended to come here now, but with things having quietened on Aeotheran a request had gone out to support the Ragnos summit from it's new Quaestor. He had responded.

“Put us down in that square,” he ordered. His blind miraluka pilot guided the freighter down and the ramp lowered. Malisane ran down it, and then waved and watched as the Lancer rose back up into the air. He looked around him. It was quiet here, though the sounds of battle were nearby as the Ragnos forces made their way across the city, scouring out pockets of resistance. He gripped his scatter gun and made his way across the square towards the sounds of blaster fire.

He turned into a large street and immediately came to face with a group of soldiers, wearing the armour of House Marka Ragnos. At the sight of an armoured figure they raised their blasters. One, with a sergeants insignia on his shoulder, approached, weapon raised. “Identify yourself,” he ordered harshly. Malisane met the sergeant's gaze through the tinted lenses of his helmet. “Malisane Sadow.” The sergeant backed off slightly as he hurriedly lowered his weapon and then saluted “Sir!” “Good, you have heard of me. Where is your Quaestor?” “At the mobile command centre. I will take you to him, sir, if that is your wish.” “Do so.” Malisane followed the soldiers down the street past more Ragnos soldiers. They appeared to be making preparations for an advance and there was evidence of restlessness. Malisane nodded with approval, he liked a willingness to serve and get stuck in amongst the Clan's soldiers. Eventually they reached a squat mobile building and at a quick word from the accompanying sergeant Malisane was ushered quickly inside.

The Ragnos Quaestor was stood looking at a map on a table, alongside a tall verpine figure. Several officers were with them though they stood to attention when the Battlelord entered. Malisane knew both the House and Battleteam leaders, he had served with them during the previous years war with the Collective. Xolarin turned. “Malisane,” he said by greeting, recognising the familiar armour. “How are things on Aeotheran?” “Our forces have control of the capital,” he replied, “The Aedile is keeping things together while we assess the nature of Collective infiltration on the wider planet. We have little news from Kel Rasha.” “I heard about Takagari's departure to join the Overlord,” Xolarin replied, “rumour has it they will choose a new Quaestor soon.” “So I hear,” Malisane replied with a shrug, “one of the former Consuls probably.” “Not yourself?” Xolarin asked with a raised eyebrow. “I seriously doubt it,” Malisane replied scornfully, “I am a servant of the Clan, no more, and no less.” “I see,” the Quaestor replied. “So what do you need?” Malisane asked. Xolarin glanced at Hilgrif. “Were just discussing that. As you can imagine we have many of our members are dispersed with our forces across this city, Mucenic and Markosian City, to strengthen their resolve. “Sounds sensible,“ Malisane grunted. The Quaestor nodded. “Unfortunately this has left us short handed here and now a problem has arisen.” “We have received news of several devices,” the Verpine Battleteam leader added, “any of which will do serious damage to this city, and together...” “Together they would destroy the city, the cathedral, and a significant part of the surrounding area.” Xolarin added. Malisane took this in. “So what are you doing?” “We have the three suspected locations,” Xolarin replied, “Hilgrif and the Night Hawks can move on two of them. We have been loaned an infiltration and demolitions specialist from the Warhost, and I would like you to accompany him to the third location.” “Which specialist?” Malisane asked. “Battlelord,” a familiar voice said from the corner of the room. Malisane turned to see the black armoured clone. “Senth. I have not seen you for several weeks since Seng Karash. The former Dlarit Advanced Commando nodded. “I was reassigned. We depart in ten minutes.”

Malisane and Senth made their way quietly through the back streets, the clone trooper leading the way. “The collective agents are holding up in a warehouse building,” Senth said quietly over the communicator. “The Ragnos Summit are concerned if they send a larger force in they may trigger the device.” “And there are three of these?” Malisane asked. “Possibly, though we can not be sure,” the clone replied, “If it is so then the destruction of one will likely trigger the other two. I hope the Night Hawks succeed.” “I used to command them,” Malisane replied, “for a short time many years ago. They were good.” “I hope they still are, “Senth replied, “otherwise we may be dead alongside everything else for miles before we even get a chance.” “We can not worry about that,” Malisane told him, “we will concentrate on our own mission.” “It would be a tragedy if the city and cathedral were destroyed.” A slight smile touched the Sith's lips. “They have been before,” he muttered, “they can be rebuilt.” “Not this time,” Senth replied, “if your information is correct there will be a crater without anything to rebuild. Of course we would not be there to see it.” As they proceeded they heard the sound of blaster and artillery fire to the south. “It sounds like the Quaestor is moving out,” Senth observed. “Good,” Malisane replied, “it will provide a distraction.” “So long as it does not alarm the enemy too much,” the clone added.

Senth stopped and ducked down in an alleyway. “Our target is that building opposite.” Malisane followed his gaze. “Guards on the outside, both entrances likely.” Senth looked up. “I would prefer a roof assault.” Malisane glanced at him. “You normally do.” The clone turned to give him what would have been a withering glance had he not been wearing a helmet. “You would prefer to spend a week tunnelling in?” “Get a move on.” Senth looked up at the building they were sheltering under. And then with a quick burst of jet fire he quickly ascended, disappearing from view. Malisane took a breath and then grasped the side of the building and quickly dragged himself up, his bulk offset by his strength as he quickly clambered upwards before climbing over the parapet and moving over next to the clone who was watching the target. Senth glanced at him, and then pointed. A lone guard was stood on the roof of the warehouse, blaster in hand. “I can take him,” the clone said as he readied his blaster carbine. “If you miss you will not get a second attempt,” Malisane advised. “If you have a better idea I would be interested.” Malisane considered it, judging the distance. “Be ready to move.” He raised a hand and focused on the guard. “Quietly,” Senth hissed. The guard suddenly raised his hands to his throat gripping it through his armour, as he struggled breath. As the Sith Battlelord intensified his grip the Clone burst across the gap in the roofs with a blast of rocket booster, his arms snaking out as he grabbed the guard and thrust up through a gap in the armour with the sharp needle like blade before lowering him to the ground. A few seconds later Malisane leapt and pushed himself across the gap, landing on the roof slightly louder than the clone commando.

Senth moved over the a panel on the rooftop and knelt. “I can open this.” “It could be a trap,” Malisane pointed out. “It could indeed,” the clone replied, “if it is we will never know.” There was an agonising pause, and then the clone slowly moved the panel back and looked down into the hole. Then he looked back up again. “Setup?” Malisane asked quickly “Thirty feel drop. Seven targets. Two previously seen outside front and back door. One by device. Two stood by windows on either side. Two resting and eating.” “Weapons?” “Four with rifles, two with side-arms, one by device appears to be unarmed. However he's holding what appears to be a control. Probably a dead man switch.” Malisane nodded. The former DAC was a trained observer and his assessment was likely to be flawless. “We need to take out the one with the device. The rest are incidental.” Senth shook his head. “Not if they message the other two cells. We do not know the Night Hawks progress.” “If there are another two cells,” Malisane argued, “we can only deal with the present situation. Can you drop down on the one with the device?” Senth shook his head. “No inconveniently they are not directly beneath this hatch. And in any case he only needs a second. Not even that if he just needs to let go.”

Malisane paused for a few seconds and then stood. He began to walk across the roof. “Tell me when I am over him.” The DAC looked down into the hole, and then up at the Battlelord. “You are planning something insane?” “Yes.” Senth sighed and glanced into the hole again. “Another four feet. Okay stop.” “You are sure?” “As close as I can tell.” “Good.” Malisane crouched, There was a hiss as his white bladed saber ignited, and then with a sudden movement he stabbed it down into the roof. With a quick roll of his wrist he widened the hole. “What are you planning?” the clone asked suspiciously. “I have seen something attempted like this once. A long time ago. By one more powerful than myself.” Senth gripped his blaster carbine. “And it worked?” “No.” Malisane dropped the hilt of his saber into the hole he had cut, and watched it turn end over end as it fell silently through the air towards the man below. Senth ducked his head into the hatch and watched as the tiny object fell and then there was a sudden burst of energy, as the saber ignited once more in an arc that followed the spin of the blade. There was a cry of pain from the man as something slightly larger than the saber hilt flew quickly up into the air to be caught by the Battlelord who had reached one hand through the hole.

“Got it!” Malisane said in triumph as he held the disembodied hand his own, pressing the fingers closed on the switch. Senth lowered his blaster through the hatch and fired, with one shot hitting the wounded man in the head and sending his corpse sprawling backwards away from the device. As chaos erupted below the commando dropped into the hole, firing as he fell, his jet pack boosters slowing and controlling his descent as his pinpoint shots picked off the guards by the windows. He turned as the two who had been resting got to their feet and began to run towards the device. At that moment there was an explosion of telekinetic energy and part of the roof collapsed and the armoured battlelord dropped through the air faster than the commando. As the two guards stopped in amazement as he hit the ground hand and rolled, Malisane raised his scattergun and fired. He was not as precise a shot at the clone commando but he did not need to be. Dozens of pellets hit them, smashing through their armour and knocking them backwards bleeding from multiple impact wounds.

Malisane's hand reached out and his discarded saber flipped into his grip. Senth landed and shot the guard at the front entrance when he burst into the room, blaster raised. Malisane leapt forward to meet the rear guard and cut him savagely down. “The device!” Malisane quickly ordered. Senth did not need to be told. He was already making for it, removing his helmet as he quickly took a device from his belt and began to work. “Well?” Malisane demanded as Senth busied himself with the device. “Quiet!” the clone snapped as he focused. Malisane stood quietly watching him as the clone worked silently. The Sith had faced death many times. It had been one explosion he himself had caused that had wrecked his body and nearly killed him, all those years ago. This one likely he would not even have time to react, as possibly nor would anyone else in the surrounding area. And this was potentially one of three. Even if the clone succeeded they could still be dead in seconds. “Done,” Senth said taking a deep breath. “You are sure?” Malisane demanded. Senth nodded. He raised a communicator. “Quaestor, this is Lieutenant Colonel Senth. Objective secured.” There was a pause and a crackling sound. “Sorry, did not receive message clearly. What was that about the Night Hawks?”

THE END.

Oh Sadow Empire Oh how I have missed thy lands Our home in darkness