The Antagonist

Sadow Palace
Sepros
Orian System

Colonel Senth of the Orian Warhost Intelligence Directorate made his way quickly down the corridor to the Pro Consuls private quarters. He was surprised by the sudden summons. His life had been fairly quiet recently, since the events of the Clan split at Dantoran. Most of his duties had merely been directing intelligence collection and analysis. However a late night call to attend the penultimate leader of Clan Naga Sadow was unexpected and hinted at something out of the ordinary.

The clone commando reached a heavy door guarded by two troopers, who moved to block his way. He quickly raised his identification card and they saluted, before standing aside. One opened the door. Senth stepped into the interior and noted the comfortable but practical interior. The Pro Consul was stood waiting for him. DarkHawk gave a quick nod of recognition in response to Senth's salute.
“Thank you for coming so quickly Colonel,” he said quietly, “I would not have brought you over so late had the matter not been so urgent.”
Senth kept his features neutral. “It is no bother, Pro Consul.”
“I have a task for you,” DarkHawk told him, still standing and giving no indication that either of them should seat or take refreshments. “Have you heard of a smuggler in Seng Karash by the name of Den'Vilar?”
The clone nodded. “I have sir,” he replied, “he is a bothan. He has a small warehouse near the spaceport. He has a fairly minor operation, and with larger problems in the city the Aeotheran Security Force appear to ignore him.”
DarkHawk looked at him calmly. “Den'Vilar is my top agents on Aeotheran. He was instrumental in informing to us on the state of the planet under the rule of the Collective, and his intelligence was vital in retaking the planet. Even now he keeps me appraised of goings on the Shar Dakhan Summit does not necessarily bring to my attention.”
“I was not aware of that,” Senth said, surprised the agents activities has slipped past him, “so what is the matter concerning him?”

The Pro Consul looked deeply into the clones eyes. “I received a message from him that his cover may have been compromised,” he replied, “he feels he is unsafe where he is, and feels if he breaks cover he will be intercepted. I want him made safe and brought back to me here. Alive.”
Senth frowned. “If he is compromised then why not simply eliminate him?” he asked, “or allow them to take him and cut your losses.”
DarkHawk's features darkened, “I do not abandon those who have served me for so long Colonel,” he said in a quiet and deadly voice, “he is loyal to me and I will return that in kind.”
Senth nodded. “One question Pro Consul, why are you sending me? If you contact the Shar Dakhan Summit, they can have the ASF or Sapphire Squadron go in and retrieve him in a matter of hours.”
DarkHawk's features darkened. Senth raised his eyebrows slightly as the Pro Consul began to explain in the same quiet voice. Finally the clone nodded. “I understand sir.”
“Good. Then depart immediately. I will send you the location of his hideout to your data pad. Needless to say you will inform no one of this mission.”
Senth saluted. “Yes sir.” He turned and left.

Seng Karash
Aoetheran
Orian System

The customs guards took a laborious amount of time checking his well crafted false identification before allowing through. Senth took it all calmly. He could of course have bypassed the entire process by identifying himself, but he did not want to announce his presence. The new regime put in place by the current planetary governor was stricter than it had been under either the Collective or Naga Sadow's previous rule, and the arrival of a high ranking Warhost officer would have been recorded and perhaps relayed to the Dakhan Summit. He preferred to be subtle. He was wearing simple clothing and carrying a small bag. His equipment had been checked in and would be waiting for him in the cargo area.

A short while later he left the star port into the streets, carrying his heavy bag slung over one shoulder. If he was stopped and searched he would be able to bluff his way past the ASF, or offer a simple bribe. Despite the new regime the police were still the police. He thought back to the details he had been sent by the Pro Consul. The smuggler had left his warehouse and was holed up in a small flat above a shop in the commercial and leisure district. It was an hours walk away, so he made for the nearest monorail station, quickly ascending the steps along with other travellers. He check the time on the board above his head. It was 20:00 hours. He still had two hours until the newly implemented curfew. That was plenty of time. He reached the top, and pushed his way through the crowds to the front of the platform, looking down at the display on the ground marking the carriages stopping locations. A few moments later there was a whining sound and the train approached the station. Senth waited while passengers departed, then found horizontal seat against the wall, putting the heavy bag on the floor. He waited a few seconds for the train to depart.

About ten minutes later he made his way down an identical set of stairs to the main street of the commercial and leisure district. He looked around. The area was oddly quiet compared with how it used to be. At one time it had been the thriving hub of the Orian Systems largest city, with thousands of workers and their families out spending their money in the shops bars, clubs and restaurants and the place had been full and bouncing until early in the morning, before getting busyagain several hours later. Now with the curfew and tougher rules, the district was a shadow of its former self. The bars were still there and people were out drinking or eating, but the atmosphere was gone and there was a tenseness about it. The clone shrugged and continued. Using the mental picture in his mind, he made his way along the street and then down a dark side street, keeping his free right hand near the Syndicate blaster pistol tucked into his belt.

Finally after several turns he reached a small back street, quiet but still well lit by the street lamps above. Looking up he noticed the cameras attached to them. It seemed nowhere was private in the city any more. He looked down the street until his eyes settled on a small closed convenience store, its lights off and its window empty. There was a small doorway next to it. Senth cautiously approached, keeping his pace level. He examined the door. It was heavy and had a sophisticated lock. It took the clone several minutes to open it. Drawing his blaster pistol he made his way slowly up the stairs to the landing, and then stopped. He took a breath. “The lost porg flies a lonely journey.”
There was a sudden movement behind him. “Drop your weapon and bag,” a voice told him, “and raise your hands.” Senth complied, the pistol making a dull thud as it hit the floor. “Now turn around slowly.”

Senth complied, and a worried looking bothan came into view, his fur standing up on end and suspicious eyes boring into him. He was wearing a simple grey suit and holding a battered blaster rifle.
“Den'Vilar?” Senth asked.
“Possibly,” the bothan replied, “who are you?”
“I am Colonel Senth of the Warhost Intelligence Directorate,” the clone replied calmly, “I was sent to get you out of here, you are in danger.”
“Give me your identification, the real one,” Possibly Den'Vilar told him.
“It is in the bag,” Senth replied.
“Take it out slowly and throw it here. No sudden movements.” Senth slowly crouched, opening a small pocket on his bag and taking a card out. He threw it casually to the bothan, who caught it in his left hand, keeping a grip on the rifle with his right. He slowly stood again.

The bothan examined it, then looked up at the clone. Finally he seemed to relax. “Just you here?”
Senth nodded. “Considering who is after you it was considered best to keep this low profile. He has eyes everywhere here.”
Den'Vilar sighed. “It is true then. I feared as much. I have heard stories, and the recent broadcast and destruction of that mining sector does not make it easier.”
“That was him, yes. I know him well. He likes handling matters personally, especially with a hostile agent under his nose for so long.”
“I am not hostile,” the bothan replied in an injured tone, “I have served your Clan for years.”
“You are in his territory and you do not work for him,” Senth replied, “therefore you are hostile.” He looked around at the dull landing and rooms either side. “We can not remain here. We will be found, and these confined surroundings will suit him. I will prepare. Bring anything small you can not manage without. We leave in ten minutes.”

Senth, now armoured and heavily armed, lead the nervous bothan down the stairs and through the door. The street was still quiet. “We still have over an hour until the curfew,” Senth said quietly, “we should still watch for the Aeotheran Security Force though. The rules are tighter on open weapons carrying though.”
The bothan glanced down at the rifle held in his hands. “What do we do if they stop us?”
“I will attempt to bluff us through,” Senth replied, “I still have some official status.”
“And if that does not work?”
“I will handle them.”
Senth lead the bothan through the back streets. He was not heading for the star port. They would be checked leaving, and he did not have a spare identification for the bothan. Plus it would be the obvious place. There was a small shuttle terminal nearby that ought to have at least one ship in they could commandeer. Nightime supply flights in and out of the sector were still common enough for them to slip in the outgoing traffic. Hopefully.

They approached the shuttle terminal and surveyed it. “It looks like there are two ships in,” Senth observed, “we just need to be careful.”
“I have a contact inside,” Den'Vilar replied, “he ought to be able to get us aboard a flight.”
“You are sure?” Senth asked.
“I am a smuggler,” the bothan replied, “I know this place and its operations.”
“Good.”
They made their way to a side gate in the wall surrounding the facility. Senth made short work of the lock and they made their way inside. Then the clone stopped. “It's quiet,” he said as he looked around at the area, “too quiet.”
“It is odd,” the bothan agreed in a whisper, “they ought to be busy at this hour.” He glanced up at the office, which had its lights shining through the windows, but no sign of people.
Senth gripped his V-10 and made his way cautiously forward, the bothan following nervously. Then he stopped as the display in his helmet detected movement. He trained his weapon on the shadows. “If anything happens duck for cover and let me handle it,” he said quietly.
“I can help!” the bothan protested.
“Do as I order if you want to live.”

Then there was a sudden burst of movement and Senth fired as a shape descended from on top of the nearest shuttle, leaping towards them. Senth fired at it with his blaster, narrowly missing. As the bothan leapt away the clone fired his backpack as the figure landed, a lightsaber bursting into life in the robed figures hand. Senth's vision took in their assailant and the bothan kneeling behind a crate with his hands over his head. Still in the air, Senth fired again and the saber swept back and forth, deflecting the shots away from his body. Senth considered a grenade from the V-10s barrel, but judged the bothan too close and the risk too high. “Stop!” he shouted.

The robed figure looked up at the clone, his features covered by the masked hood. “I knew he would send you,” he said in a cold tone, “ and what you would do. You are too predictable.”
Senth kept the barrel of the V-10 aimed at the enemy as he slowly lowered to the ground. “You know why I am here Quaestor,” he replied, “and on whose authority. Allow us to go on our way.”
There was a quiet noise of derision. “No,” Malisane replied, “he is a spy. On my planet.”
“Your planet?” Senth echoed in surprise.
“Until the Consul removes me, yes. For now he is content with the funds and recruits I send him for his military. He allows me to rule as I see fit. So I will question the bothan to see what tales he has told the Pro Consul, and then he will die.”
“That will not happen Quaestor,” Senth replied, “I will follow my orders.”
“And do what, kill me?”
Senth paused for a few seconds. “I do not wish to Quaestor,” he told the Sith, “however I was ordered to bring him to Sepros, and I will carry out my orders, whatever it takes.”
There was a chuckle from the Sith. “I see. Ever the loyal soldier they bred you to be.” He reached out his left hand towards the bothans hiding place, keeping the saber between himself and the clone. “He is a weak little rat. I can kill him now, before you can stop me.”

Suddenly there was a burst of blaster fire from the left and the Sith body twisted round, blocking the shot with his saber. Senth cursed and then fired himself, the shot scorching the cloak of the Warlord but missing his body. He heard quick footsteps as the bothan scampered deeper into cover and then a roar of anger from Malisane. The Sith lashed out at the crates with the force, tumbling several and drawing a scream of fear from the bothan. Senth moved forward, trying to distract the Sith with more shots as Malisane backed off, his saber blocking them. Despite what he had said the last thing he wanted was to kill the Quaestor. The erratic Warlord might be an controversial figure, but he was still a title holder and a Quaestor and the ramifications of his death on what most would see as a trivial matter would rock the clan.

Malisane raised his left hand and directed it at the clone commando, and Senth felt a blow to his chest that rocked him backwards. The Sith roared again, and seemingly forgetting the bothan, he leapt forward at the clone, saber raised. Senth hit a crate behind him and saw the Sith closing in. He fired his jetpack again and felt himself lift, clearing the crates as the Sith's saber sliced through them in a shower of sparks. As the Quaestor looked up at him furiously, Senths gaze saw the bothan crouched behind a terminal, near to a shuttle with an open hatch. He held his rifle firmly in his hands but the fight seemed to have gone out of him.
Senth looked back down at the Sith. “This is foolish Quaestor. Would you have us kill each other over one bothan spy?”
There was a snarl from the Sith. “Only one of us will die Senth. You forget I have known you too long. I remember the newly hatched clone captain they sent to me all those years ago. There is little you know I did not teach you. I will kill the bothan, and you if you continue to interfer."
Senth studied the Sith. It was true. He had been assigned by the former Consul to become the Sith's unwanted agent and bodyguard. However that was before the Sith had become the monster he was now, and since then the clone had learned much more on his own. “Very well then you leave me no choice.” Senth raised the V-10 and fired a grenade.

The explosion rocked the area, causing crates to topple and crash to the floor and shaking the whole area. The sound would probably draw the local security force and who knew what else. He looked over at the bothan, who was scampering up the ramp of the shuttle. “Get it ready to go!” He fired the jetpack and flew over the burning crates towards the shuttle, landing in free space in front of it.
“We're still clamped,” Den'Vilar shouted back.
Senth cursed. “Very well, I need to release it.” He went to the terminal, placed the V-10 on the table next to it and removing his helmet. He began clicking buttons rapidly, knowing time was important. There was a whirr of machinery as the fuelling and power hoses detached from the shuttle, retracting back into their hosing. Senth checked it was all in place, and then made for the shuttle. Then he felt another invisible blow and he reeled backwards,

As he looked up in surprise a vision of horror burst out from amongst the toppled crates. Malisane's hood and cloak was gone now, and his robes were torn and smoking. Blood ran down the side of the Sith's scarred pale cheeks, and his torn mouth was drawn in a twisted sneer. His saber was still in his hand and he was moving quickly towards the clone, death in his eyes. Senth backed off from the shuttle, his hand instinctively going to his waist and drawing his sword. He raised it defensively as the enraged Sith lashed at him, the enhanced blade deflecting the fury of blows as Senth's years of training guided him. The clone knew he was in trouble though. He had sparred against Malisane in the past, and others amongst the best saberists in the Clan and had learned much on how to face them. However this was for keeps and in the confined space the Sith was stronger. He concentrated on his defence, trying to find a gap he could counter into and break the Sith's defence. “Go!” he shouted. The response was a roar of the ships engines and the ramp began to close.

Malisane roared again in anger, his mutilated head snapping round in fury at his prey escaping and Senth thrust at him, finding a gap and scoring along the Sith's ribs. The head turned back to him and Malisane hacked at him with both hands, nearly knocking the Sith sword from the clones grip,
Senth backed off, raising his blade, his gaze focused on his foe. He only needed to stall the Sith a few moments longer and the Den'Vilar would be away into the night sky. Surely then the battle would end.
“It's over!” he shouted.
Malisane's response was a roar of fury and he leapt at Senth, slashing at him in fury. Senth's back was against the wall, as he concentrated on the glowing saber. His strength was fading, the relentless blows of the enraged Sith were wearing him down. Finally he felt his sword leave his grip, and a second later a burst of agony as the saber bit into his side, and he collapsed, his strength fading.

As he lay on the floor he heard the shuttle roar into the sky, climbing swiftly and could make out the sound of the Quaestor shouting into his communicator, presumably with interception orders. Senth did not care. The bothan was away at least, it was down to him now. He had done his best to follow the Pro Consuls orders. He opened his eyes, and could just make out the Sith limping towards him, his hand clutched to his bleeding side. His rage had ended and he looked exhausted. The clone looked up at the Sith he had known since he had been created, had fought alongside and against on and off for over a decade. Then he saw Malisane's hand leave his side and draw his saber wearily. Senth focused slowly on the emitter now aimed right at at him. The clone looked at it for a few seconds, then back to the eyes of the Sith, awaiting his fate.

It's Nothing Personal, Or Is It?”

Mount Dahkan
Aeotheran
Orian System

Malisane looked round the room, his eyes focusing on Deckard Kaelen First Minister of of the Aeotheran government. “I am displeased with this unrest in the outer sectors Minister,” he said coldly, “production targets are down. This will not be tolerated.”
The usually confident and placid official looked nervously back at the heavily scarred Sith. “I agree Governor,” he replied, “the Aeotheran Security Force are working to contain it, however production has spread across the planet faster than we are able to adapt our security patrols, we have limited resources.”
“I do not want to hear excuses Minister,” Malisane replied, “when we established the government it was designed to work together, to balance profit with stability. You have an entire bureaucracy designed to work together to achieve that aim. If it is imbalanced that is your failing and your subordinates.”
“I understand Governor,” the man replied.
Malisane turned to the female officer in the room. “Commander Miros, you will assign a battalion to assist the ASF. You will also meet with their officers and make it clear what is expected of them. Any who do not give you confidence you may remove.”
“Yes Governor.” she replied coldly.
Malisane turned to the final person present. “Commodore, what is our fleet status?”
Commodore Krill clicked a button and figures appeared in front of them. “We have near maximum personnel Governor,” he replied, “and all ships have reported as operational. We have had to reassign Task Force Besh from Inos to Aeotheran to plug the gap in our planetary security caused by the loss of the skyhook.”
The Sith scowled. “I understand. What our our fleet facilities?”
Krill shrugged. “Again, we have had to move our resupply and repairs functions to the main clan bases until we establish a permanent solution. This has delayed operations somewhat.”
“Very well,” Malisane replied, “anything else?”
“No Governor, you will receive a formal report.”
“Then you are dismissed.”

A short while later Malisane stood on the balcony of his quarters, looking out across the snow surrounding the mountain the Dakhan house had made their home. He was unusually pensive. Recent events had bothered him. On the face of it getting away from the bureaucracy of running the House and its planet had been a welcome break, and away from the usual members he had just been another fighter amongst the pirates and the members of the other clans. It had been good.
However the fact so many of his clan had taken up with the Severians, who were dubious allies at least based on recent history, still bothered him. There had been justifications from others, especially in the Summit, and some had seemed as genuinely sad he had joined the Tenixir as others had been pleased he was not going to be with them. It bothered him though. The Clan had no business supporting those who had betrayed the Brotherhood in the past and would again when it suited them.

The loss of Marakith was also irritating. When he had been persuaded to return the skyhook a year earlier he had never intended it to be a permanent solution. After all that had happened to it the station had not been what it was, and confidential engineers reports cast doubt it could be maintained much longer than a year or so before it became mothballed. It more bothered him that having recaptured, the Orian system had once again so nearly fallen. And one of their most secure facilities had been taken. This was despite the Clan fleet being stronger than it ever had been. Perhaps the leadership ought to be focusing on that rather than shoring up supposed allies?

He turned as he heard a beep at his door. He walked through the balcony doors and into the sparsely decorated room. “Enter.”
His Aedile entered. Adept Sanginius Entar had been working with the Sith for a year and to be honest there was no closeness between them. Malisane respected that the former Consul had stepped up when the position had been vacant but that was all. For the best part Malisane was content for the Adept to partly look after the members and partly carry out his duties for the Shadow Academy on Nesolat. As far as he could tell the Aedile was happy Malisane was not often around and left the running of the house and planet to himself and the military and civilian officials.
“Was there something Adept?”
Sanguinius shook his head. “Nothing of importance, Quaestor,” he replied, “all members have returned safely from Dandoran. We have no casualties or major injuries.”
“That is satisfactory,” Malisane replied, “was there anything else?”
“No not as such,” the Elder replied, “I am due to return to Nesolat in the morning. I was planning on attending the meeting with the Senior Staff before I turn in though, I thought I would check in with you first.”
“I have attended to it Aedile,” Malisane replied, “they have departed for their duties."
Sanguinius raised an eyebrow, “You attended it?”
Malisane met the elders gaze. “I did. Is that a problem Aedile?”
The passive Elder shook his head. “No, you usually show no interest though.”
The Quaestor shrugged. “I am looking to take care of more. Things are going well here on Aeotheran, but they can improve. And you have your many duties with the Shadow Academy and Regents office. We will have to see about lightening your load here.”
Sanguinius looked unusually nonplussed. “Very well. We will see how that goes, I suppose.”
“Good,” Malisane replied calmly, “then I will not detain you. If you see Malik tell him I want to see him.”
Sanguinius nodded and left.

A short while later the other Adept entered the room. “You wished to see me Malisane?”
“Yes Malik,” he replied. In truth he was no closer to the Neti that he was to the others in the House, but he had been not close to him for much longer. “I have the assignments for Sapphire Squadron.” He produced a datapad.
The experienced elder looked them over slowly, and then his eyes raised up to meet the Quaestor's. “This is just routine surveillance and crew motivational training,” he replied.
“And?”
“It is hardly work for our members. And reasonably experienced ASF agent or personnel advisor could carry these out.”
“It is good to keep our members busy Malik,” Malisane countered.
“It will take up much of their time and take them away from the Mountain or their other homes. It will be greatly unpopular.”
“Perhaps,” Malisane replied, “but being a member of Sapphire Squadron brings many privileges and authority for its members. If necessary remind them of that.”
The Neti did not scowl or even change his placid features. He merely studied the Sith coldly. “As you wish, Quaestor.”
Malisane nodded. “That is all sorted then.”
“Was there anything else?” Malik asked.
“Yes,” the Sith replied,” Commodore Krill informs me is has been necessary to pull our forces back from Inos to strengthen them here. With recent events with the Sigmas and the Unchained we should not turn our back on that area and get caught out again. I would like you to take the Satyr and do a routine patrol. See if you can sense anything that may be of concern to us. Take your time there is a lot of territory to cover.”
The Neti's features finally cracked. “You want me to do that? A patrol?”
Malisane nodded. “Yes. No one else in the House or perhaps even the Clan has your unique abilities. I would trust no one more. I have ordered the cruiser to prepare to depart in the morning. They will be waiting for you.”
Malik looked directly into the Sith's eyes, and Malisane felt the Neti's mind brush against his own. “Very well, it will be as you wish.” He gave a stiff bow and left.

Malisane waited for him to go and then touched the communicator on his desk. “Get me Commander Miros on a secure channel.”
There was a pause and a hologram appeared showing the the cold features of the officer in charge of the House's ground forces” “Yes Governor?” she asked with a salute.
“I have some surveillance targets for you Commander,” Malisane told her, “I will send you details and the methods I want using.”

Dandoran – The Factory

Far from the lights and glamour of the hotels, the casinos and the pleasure barges, lays a squat grey stone building in a rocky deserted area of the planet with emptiness for hundreds of miles in any direction. The building has sheer walls, only small windows, heavy metal doors and a flat roof with weapon turrets and small shuttle bays. A century or more ago this used to be the harshest maximum security facility on the planet, where local and off world prisoners served their sentences with little hope of early release or rescue. Now it is an even more sinister place than before, for this is where the helpless who owe money to the Hutts try and work off their debts against spiralling interest rates, or slaves brought in to work to death before being replaced.

Much of the original layout of the old prison has been kept, with the small cells off the balcony landings being even more stark and basic for the new residents and those of the overseers are only little better. Below them the large communal areas have been turned over to workstations and assembly lines where the workers toil for eighteen hours a day with only short breaks in between. Everything from electronics to basic food stuffs to narcotics have their own area, and the overseers walk amongst the pour souls labouring watching for signs of slacking or theft and are ready to use a shock rod for any transgression.

The lighting is dim , the only lights being those hanging from the balconies above or smaller lamps above the more specialist workstations. There are a large number of competing smells from damp and mould, sweat and body odour, stale dropped food and melted plastic, merging into a general miasma that pervades over the area so long that those there barely notice it but immediately hits anyone entering like an assault.

The Factory is a place of despair and hopelessness. A few come believing they can work off their debt and leave, but soon reality hits and then acceptance. There is no escape from the factory, unless one is willing to fight their way out and get others to do so. And only the boldest or most desperate would be prepared to make an attempt to leave, or take the place for themselves and free those within, or become their new master.

Attacking the Clone.

The Middle Of Nowhere
Dandoran
Doran System

Senth looked around at the ruins around him, amongst the empty wasteland, and sighed. He was not supposed to be here. He was an officer of the Orian Warhost, who whatever the actual members of Naga Sadow were up to, were not involved in this matter. Had it not been for the urgent need to speak to the Consul he would not be. It should have been a fairly easy journey, and it was until his shuttle had been shot down by whichever of the opposing forces had taken a disliking to a ship without the right recognition signals. Having bailed out before it crashed at speed, he was now stuck here. Wherever that was.

The clone commando tried his communicator again. There was no response. The range on them was limited unless there was a relay station nearby. After a few minutes studying the datapad he began to walk. Then he stopped. A figure could be seen in the distance. They were stood still. Senth ducked behind a block of ruined masonry and focused on the figure. He, she or it was armed, with a blaster rifle, and seemed to be wearing oddly damaged armour. Much of the basic shell was in place, but here and there were odd distortions here and there, like some sort of crystals had pushed their way through it. There was no way of knowing whether it was an enemy, neutral or ally. Senth reached to his back and unhooked his Relby V-10, checking the grenade launcher was loaded. Then he watched. The figure was still stood still, then slowly they turned, the head moving in each direction, and then it seemed to focus on the ruins Senth was crouched in, and began to walk forward, quickly but with a strange gait.

Senth trained his sights on the figure and studied it. As it drew closer he could see that the odd crystal formations appeared to emerge from its flesh, though whether they were grafted on or grown from within he did not know. Senth kept his sights on the figure, not wanting to draw attention to himself. I was possible whatever it was had decided to explore the ruins and had no idea he was there. Or maybe not. Then as he watched the figure suddenly sped up, and a blaster bolt scythed over the clone's head, followed by a second one. Senth pulled his own trigger and a shot hit the enemy square in the chest, where a gap in the torn armour revealed a patch of crystal. The enemy rocked back slightly, but kept running, still firing towards where Senth was crouched. A second shot from the clone took it in the chest again, with no discernable effect, and a shot at its head caused it to stumble slightly, but it continued, still dumb firing towards him. Senth sighed and aimed at the figure, and with a loud crack a grenade left his weapon and hit the enemy, the resulting explosion shaking the rocks around them and engulfing the strange trooper in flames.

When the smoke cleared the clone gave a quick nod of satisfaction, and stood, walking slowly towards the figure. It was sprawled flat on its back, smoking and patches of the crystal were burned away. Cautiously the clone approached it, blaster held ready. He stopped, studying the thing with a morbid fascination. There were still traces of humanity left in the creature, but only in small patches between the crystals and the torn armour. If there were more of them then this needed reporting back to the Summit, if he could find them. If he had a vehicle he would have taken its body back for analysis, but he did not fancy dragging the thing to civilisation. He removed one hand from the weapon butt and reached for his data pad, raising it up. An image would have to do. It was at that point the creatures left hand moved and a blaster bolt from one vambrace scorched towards the clones chest.

Senth reacted immediately, dropping the datapad and hitting the button on his belt in one moment. As his jetpack fired he surged upwards, gripping his rifle once more as the creature fired again, a jet of flame following his ascent and scorching the legs of his armour. Senth felt the heat from beneath the sealing as he fired his weapon back at the creature, flying backwards to create some distance between them. His shots hit the creature once more and he saw it twitch as the blasts hit its crystal armour. Senth felt an impact hit his armour but not penetrate. He landed amongst the ruins, ducking behind a column. He saw the creature continue to aim and fire at him, moving forward and holding its rifle one handed as it reached down for a grenade. Senth fired towards it, several shots striking it and knocking it back slightly but not deterring it. As it raised the grenade and threw it in one smooth motion, the clone fired his jetpack again. It stuttered slightly, raising him up, but not enough to be fully clear as the impact of the blast shook him and as his arm hit a pillar he dropped his weapon, sending it bouncing across the stone below. He landed and ducked behind cover, drawing his pistol.

He raised his head out. The creature was walking towards him, blaster rifle still in hand as its mutilated head looked left and right for him. Glancing down at the light pistol in his hand, he knew it would take an incredibly lucky shot to do any significant damage to the creature. He could not see his larger weapon and unless he managed to stumble over it, it was lost to him for now. Slowly he reached for his belt, feeling for an alternate weapon. Drawing his sword in his right hand, his left pulled a grenade from the other side. He took a deep breath, and then flicked the grenade towards the creature. He braced himself as the seismic weapon exploded, feeling the shock himself of the blast even outside its epicentre, but as the creature gave a peculiar screeching noise the clone leapt out from cover, sword thrusting forward and slicing across the crystals before finding a patch of human flesh and biting in. The creature lashed out with its rifle and Senth dodged, angling his body away and slicing the sword down the creatures left arm, finding another patch of clear skin and biting in deeply with the sword. The creature gave another screech and dropped the rifle as its an involuntary spasm caused its fingers to open.

Senth dodged again as its right hand swung towards him, a blade emerging from the vambrace and scraping along the clones armoured side. Senth backed off, watching the creatures hands for more surprises as it made towards him, closing the gap quickly with a burning intensity. Senth kept his sword held loosely, looking for another gap, and then thrust the weapon forward. This time the creature was ready, and moved incredibly quickly, blocking the strike with an out flung arm and jarring the clones grip and sending the sword skittering away across the ground. Another blow from its weakened but still strong left arm aimed at Senth's helmeted head. Senth instinctively reflected the strike, and aimed a punch at his opponents own head, which was like hitting a rock. He backed off, adopting a stance as the creature moved towards him.

Senth dodged the next attack again, and spun his body round kicking at the creatures side as it flashed past him. He heard a grunt of expelled air from the creature and a loud noise as some of the crystals snapped under the strike, but a second later the creature reacted and spun around, still driving at him. Senth backed off once more. He knew the thing was as fast as him, if not as well trained in martial arts, and was a lot stronger. Despite his training he would be immensely lucky to beat the thing one on one. He needed a new plan. He watched the creature, until it dove at him, and then quickly moved aside, a hand jabbing at its side and grabbing at its belt. The creature swung at him, a fist smashing at the clones armoured head knocking him back and Senth fell, hitting the ground hard and rolling.

As the clone looked up wearily at the creature, it gave a roar of triumph and moved forward. Then it stopped as a growing beeping noise sounded over its own voice, and it looked down at the devices hanging from its belt. Senth covered his head with his arms as the explosion rocked the area.
Slowly he got to his feet groggily. The creature was sprawled on its back, its armoured skin smoking at much of its crystal skin was burned away. The clone shook his head in amazement as the creatures arms and legs twitched, trying to gather itself enough to rise. His hand reached down and he gripped his last weapon, the thin tube like device. He flicked the switch and the almost invisible blade emerged. As the creature continued to struggle the clone leaned over it, pinning his knee against its chest. With a deep breath he raised a hand, and then as the creature looked furiously at him he drove the thing blade down into one eye socked, feeling it drive into tissue beyond and the thing screeched again in agony. Slowly the clone pushed deeper, the hilt nearly disappearing into the head as he twisted it back and forth. The creature gave a final twitch, and then was still. Senth rose and drew the blaster pistol from the creatures holster. Looking down at the head he emptied the entire charge slowly into it at point blank range, ripping into the armoured flesh and penetrating its skull. Finally he stood and took a deep breath. Then with a last glance at the corpse, he set off to find his discarded weapons.

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae

Star Wars - The Voyage Home

The Wilds
Dandoran
Doran System

He was lost, and fed up. He looked around that the blank surrounding area. This entire thing had gone to hell over the last few days since he had left the chaos at Tipool. At the time joining the Tenixir had seemed like a good idea, partly because he believed in the balance between them and the Severians, and partly because after a long year back in his House Summit he had needed a break and most of his Clan had joined the other side. Now the matter had been complicated by the appearance of this third faction, and it seemed like a good idea to get back to Orian and ensure everything back home was stable. He still had memories of the time they had returned with the remnants of the Sadow fleet after that debacle at Antei to discover the system had been lost.

The problem is he had no idea where he was. He had not seen a single person for hours. His own ship was docked around one of the Tenixir dreadnaughts and the shuttle he had hitched a lift on was long gone. He continued to walk in his heavy armour with the mid day sun beating down on him, wishing he had worn his lighter robes or at least opted for the comfort body glove upgrade.

After a while he stopped. Ahead he could see smoke and some buildings. He sped up his pace and set off towards them, pulling his saber hilt from his belt but not igniting it. As he drew closer he could see bodies and figures in armour walking amongst them while the buildings continued to burn. It appeared to be some sort of farmstead. With no cover he decided to approach openly and see what he found. The troopers were wearing Severian armour and appeared to be searching for loot. He felt a brief surge of annoyance.

Two of them reacted when he came into view, walking confidently towards them, and approached him warily, rifles held ready. Malisane sensed there were three more of them against the buildings.
“Who the hell are you?” one of them asked.
“I could ask you the same question,” the Sith replied, “only I know looters when I see them. And deserters.”
“Yeah?” one of them asked, “so what? This has all gone to hell, pirates and mutants now, so we don't care.”
“Obviously.”
Another trooper approached, this one wearing a corporals insignia. “He asked you who you were?” he said menacingly, “you look like a mercenary to me. What do you want?”
“I came here from the Brotherhood,” Malisane replied, “and I am going back there. I just came to see what you brave boys were up to. I have a particular dislike of looting, deserter scum. I have caught many on my own world. They died slowly and unpleasantly. This is not my world however. So I will leave you to your amusements.”
“Oh you will, will you?” the corporal asked looking the Sith up and down, “well as you say this is not your world and you are alone. That is some expensive armour and gear you have there. Worth more if we don't have to peel your body out of it. So how about you leave it for us and walk away?”
The other troopers raised their weapons, and waited.

“I would rather not,” Malisane replied, “and I would advise you to return to your business.”
The corporal shrugged. “The hard way then,” and he fired.
Malisane moved quickly, igniting his saber and deflecting the shot, and then as the bolt hit a trooper he continued the movement hacking his saber through the body of a second enemy, slicing through flesh and bone. He felt a blaster bold ping harmlessly off his chest plate and made a gesture, hitting the ground with the force causing an eruption and the three remaining enemies to stagger back. The Warlord took advantage of the distraction and surged forward, effortlessly hacking down two other enemies as they tried to react. Finally he faced the corporal he held his rifle nervously.
“Please,” the man said, “we did not know what you were.”
Malisane made a gesture and the corporals weapon was dragged from his grip to land in the warlord's free hand, and was casually tossed away. “I gave you a chance,” he replied, “it was an extremely generous one considering what you are.” He lowered his saber and stretched out his free hand. The corporal gasped as his feet left the ground, as an invisible hand gripped him. Malisane stepped forward as the struggling man was lifted higher into the air, and then backwards towards the flames behind him.
“No!” the man gasped, as he flailed his arms and legs, feeling the heat.
“Die,” Malisane replied and hurled the man into the centre of the fire, hearing the screams of pain a second later as the corporal was engulfed and cooked in his armour. Finally as only the sound of burning remained, Malisane turned and began to explore. He was not interested in the surroundings, he had enough supplies with him, but was satisfied a few minutes later when he found some barc speeders, presumably belonging to the Severian deserters. Checking they were still in good working order, he picked one and set off across the empty terrain.

He studied the display on the panel in front of him. If the data was right he was a hundred miles from a small supply depot, which hopefully ought to contain at least one space worthy ship. He bend down over the bike and accelerated. With luck he would be off Dandoran and back on his own ship within a couple of hours. Then he could be free of this unravelling, three way insanity and be back on Aeotheran a few days later. Presumably the rest of his House and Clan would drift in a few days later if they had any common sense.
He let the miles pass calmly, occasionally glancing at the display to ensure he was on the correct route. He was. Eventually more buildings came in sight and he slowed the bike down, surveying the target destination. There were no signs of life but he was feeling cautious. The depot was a large squat building, surrounded by a chain link fence. A big loading door was open at one side of the building, and hopefully there was a ship inside he could take. He passed through the open gate and stopped the speeder.

He walked towards the building, feeling a sense of deja vu, and pulled his scattergun from where it was clipped to the back of his armour. He continued towards the open door. Inside he could see a beaten up looking Ghtroc freighter, a garbage scow compared with his own upgraded Lancer but it was space and hyperspace capable. It would do if it functioned. Feeling more confident he walked forward towards it. In a matter of minutes he would be airborne. He passed through the doors, and then stopped, sensing something strange around him. He gripped the scattergun and looked around, and then stepped back as several figures appeared from behind crates. His eyes narrowed. They were strange robed figures, with hooded cloaks, and like the mutilated Severian troopers he had seen several days earlier, they had the same crystals emerging from beneath their skin, though less dense. They carried saber hilts though and they were watching him with the same intensity. He felt a pressure on his mind and shook it away. One of them suddenly moved and he pulled the trigger of his scattergun, the expanding pellets striking one of the creatures in the chest and sending it staggering back. Dropping the scattergun he drew his saber igniting it.

As their companion fell, another of the abominations raised a hand and force lightning surged towards him. He caught it with his saber, sending it arching up and down the blade, and he struggled against it, and then pushed it back as he leapt forward. The abomination met his saber with it's own, the blue hilt meeting the Sith's white one, and as Malisane felt another moving towards him for a strike he used all his strength to batter against his opponent. The creature was talented and quick but Malisane was bigger and stronger and a few seconds later he saw a gap in the defence and thrust forward, slicing deep into a clear patch of skin in the things chest, then slicing his blade up and out of its body.

As it felt a second blast of lightning hit him, this time too quick to block and he felt a surge of pain as it arched over his armour, the energy penetrating his defences and he grit his teeth. He forced himself to turn towards it, and advance and then through his pain he focused on the enemy and its connection to the force, nullifying it. As the lightning faded he struck out himself, smashing the creature from its feet with a solid invisible blow. He turned in time to meet a saber aimed at his body, blocking it. The first enemy he had shot was attacking him now, its chest ripped open and bleeding from the pellets that had hit it but it seemed to ignore the damage. Perhaps it lacked the intelligence to realise it was dead. Their sabers met and Malisane focused on trying to batter its weapon aside, as behind him he heard movement as the opponent he had knocked down was beginning to rise.

The Sith backed off slightly, as he heard move movement. The creature he was fighting sensed his change in stance and pressed him as another bolt of lightning hit him jarring his body, and the enemy in front thrust at his body, its blue saber slicing along his beskar armour with a burst of sparks, cutting into it but not penetrating. Malisane, sensing that he was in trouble, hit the button on his wrist and he felt a surge as his jetpack burst into life, sending him high amongst the crates and narrowly missing another bolt of lightning. As he landed on the top of a stack of crates he deactivated his saber and tensed himself, raising his weapon. From below the two creatures were joined by another pair from the doorway, and the four looked up at him coldly. Then he sighed as he heard the whine of speeder engines outside. Two he could probably handle, four was possible though he would likely be leaving injured and needing assistance once he got back to the Tenixir forces. With more arriving the best he could do would be to die with some dignity, even if it was alone in this hellhole.

He took a deep breath, and then frowned. The crystal creatures below suddenly reacted strangely, seemingly loosing interest in him. As he watched wearily they flickered out of sight, and his gaze swept over to the doorway. Then he powered up the jetpack again gaining height as several grenades bounced through the doorway. He managed to avoid the explosion that sent a tower of crates toppling down, and gripped his saber as several armoured figures burst through the doorway firing. Malisane looked on grimly as he recognised the heavy crystallised form of the restoration troopers. Immediately the crystal ascendants appeared surrounding them, attacking with lightning and saber strikes, as the troopers turned to meet them, attacking back with brutal attacks. Malisane resisted the urge to join in the melee as he watched in fascination. The forms of the combatants below were similar but the styles different. How this madness had taken hold of both the Severians and this new faction was a mystery but not one he cared about. He watched for a few more seconds as the mutants battled for supremacy. And then slowly drew his grenade launcher from his back.

The explosion threw the mutant enemies back as the grenade landed amongst them. As the smoke cleared the restoration troopers appeared to be trying to rise, their crystaline skin burned but not seriously damaged, through the lighter armoured ascendants seemed to have taken more damage and were still. Malisane paused a few seconds, then fired another grenade, and a second explosion rocked the large room this time sending several stacks of crates crashing down. The restoration troopers were more still now, but twitching, and the Sith sensed even a second blast would not hold them for long. With a glance at them he fired his jetpack again, soaring briefly up, and then down towards the closed ramp to the freighter. Wrenching the manual release he waited while it quickly lowered, and then as he saw the troopers began to rise he sprinted inside, hitting the button to close it. A second before it closed he saw more troopers entering the depot.

He felt the ship began to rock as blaster fire hit it. He reached the cockpit and quickly sat in the chair. He was not a great pilot but knew enough to get the ship moving, and as he fired up the engines he felt it surge forward, narrowly clearing the door and scattering restoration troopers in its wake. As the battered freighter burst into the open he saw more speeders heading towards him, each carrying a mutilated trooper, and each were disembarking to fire at the freighter. Malisane pulled the controls back and the ship gained height, still shaking as more blaster fire from below hit its hull. Then Malisane breathed a sigh of relief as the ship climbed out of range. A few seconds later it cleared the atmosphere.

Malisane studied the view in front of him as the darkness of space became visible. Around him battle raged. The heavier Severian ships met the lighter Tenixir ones, and neither appeared to have an advantage. Wherever the dreadnaught he had left his ship at he had no idea. Maybe it was engaged, maybe it was destroyed. He sighed. In all his years in the Brotherhood he had never run from a fight, but this was not his fight or even his Clan's, and the battered Ghtroc was barely able to get him away let alone engage. With a final look at the carnage around him he engaged the hyperdrive and he felt the ship respond. He was going home.