-> FALL OF ANTEI
Empire of Pain
Raken

<-

The Crab Boys aren’t so bad. Their motives are pure, understandable. Karked. But understandable. There are worse things anyway. Things with power and motives less clear. How much worse? I don’t get paid enough to speculate.

The oldest known profession in the universe is not that which often comes to mind in most beings. The most ancient of professions is war. Be it the simplicity of learning to swing a bone club to shatter an enemy’s skull or the complexities of a three-dimensional naval phased envelopment from line of battle. War was the first profession intelligent beings turned their hand to and it will be the last laid down when time finds its end.<p>
It is the way of things. Students speculate about it. Politicians enact it. Soldiers die for it. Veterans try to forget it. But it can be no other way. War is the means by which nations thrive. Or it is their downfall. Neighbor unto neighbor, species unto species; what cannot be defended can be taken. Few things are as simple.<p>
But there are some who think existence to be peace punctuated by brief periods of war. They assume placidity and congeniality the regents of normalcy. They are the thinkers that have not seen so do not know. They have yet to be given pause as the Brotherhood has been given it. It is not long in the making that the theorists and pacifists will look up sharply together and the only peace they will know is that which they make with eternity. The Old Ones have tried to tell us, but we did not hear.<p>
Peace is a lie…<p>

Nebula-class Star Destroyer Dark Star
Polith System, Rimma Trade Route
Fall of Antei, Day 71<p></p>

“Time to intercept: three minutes,” Dark Star’s combat control officer said; eyes fixated on her screen. “Fate’s interdiction field shows active.”<p>
The Dark Star Strike Group, including the Immobilizer 418 interdictor cruiser Contested Fate, hung motionless in space halfway between Thyferra and Yag’Dhul. Five warships were oriented on an empty corridor of darkness like a hand ready to close around a serpent. Two more vessels patrolled the flanks of the interdiction site invisible in the inky distance.<p>
Stelnor Gat, Dark Star’s Omwati commanding officer, stood the bridge’s foredeck at ease and calculated that ten minute’s time would see enough bacta for six months of continuous operation for the Brotherhood war machine. Her dark masters would be pleased with that at least as so little of late had met with anything but their displeasure. But it was time. “Away, Raiders,” Captain Gat ordered.<p>
“Raiders away.” The command was echoed in the drone-like way it always was aboard starships and another step back toward Antei had begun.<p>
A weight seemed to lift as he left the ship aboard one of the three outbound raiders. Gat could see it in the eyes of her crew; something on the edge of perception that the “old brain” was only dimly aware of. She was glad she had only one of them aboard for this deployment. She’d heard some of her colleagues had sometimes deployed with two or three assigned to their vessels.<p>
“One minute.”<p>
Though the general unease felt in his presence made her fancy a trade for any two of the others, Gat bowed to her own reason. She knew what she’d gotten herself into. He’d only be with them a while longer and had brought his own soldiers. Then the surreal would pass and she could return to what defined normalcy for her: the running of a starship. At least for a time. <p>
Gat flicked her blue eyes to Ion Control’s gunnery commander, said, “Starboard ion batteries commence fire,” and returned to her thoughts. It could always be worse.<p>

Gamma-class ATR-6 Assault Transport
Polith System, Rimma Trade Route
Fall of Antei, Day 71<p>
The engine cluster of the ATR-6 transport executed a fifteen second burn then went dark as the raider settled into its assault vector. Ahead lay the darkened hull of the Action-Keynne XII transport Payday now listing in space after the ion fusillade from Task Force 62 had rendered it inert. In minutes the transport and its cargo of precious bacta would belong to the Dark Brotherhood.<p>
“Six minutes!” came the call from the chalk leader. At the rear of the craft, he looked back down the compartment toward the cockpit holding over his head the five digits of his left hand splayed wide next to the upturned thumb of his right.<p>
Twenty-six voices in unison yelled back, “Six minutes!” <p>
Filling the ATR-6’s blacked-out troop compartment were the dark armored soldiers of 1st Platoon, Alpha Company part of the 2nd Battalion, 75th Special Operations Regiment under the Army of the Iron Throne. Corporal Akor Digh, new to the unit, panned his gaze away from the chalk leader and over the seated forms of his comrades as they rode to their next objective: seizure of the Peace Brigade transport Payday and its contents. Another in a series of actions intended to prolong the survival of their masters in the war against the Far Outsiders.<p>
Digh sweat into the body glove under his armor and felt the moisture wicked away. Air tainted with fuel filled his nostrils and he considered donning his helmet but did not. This is what he had wanted. Family dead. World gone. Killing those who had taken so much from him—from Sernpidal—seemed the only purpose left to him. As one of millions of refugees fleeing the Yuuzhan Vong invasion corridor, Digh had survived by serving in a number of military juntas and resistance factions. Inexorably they were ground under by the Vong’s brutal advance into the Core and Digh had found himself retreating to the next military service that would have him until that too was crushed.<p>
He had gone on like this for two years leapfrogging across the galaxy; fighting, killing, retreating. All had changed eight months ago when he encountered an odd man at a refugee camp on Ord Radama. The robed and hooded man had said nothing to him when he approached Digh in a camp mess hall. He simply pressed a data chip into the palm of his hand and continued on through the crowd. Digh never saw him again.<p>
The chip had held instructions and coordinates for what it described as a “military resistance” offering more pay and advantage than he had seen since the war began. But they weren’t taking just any warm body. He had completed a rigorous selection process comprised of many of the standard military tests designed to rate mental and physical aptitudes, gauge skill, and cull the weak. But there had been other tests Digh had not seen anywhere else. There were questions asked he’d not heard before and some not asked that he’d expected.<p>
The officers and non-comms running the selections worked feverishly. They seemed driven, possessed, by more than duty, pay, or professionalism. A sense of urgency gripped them like fear. It was fear. But not of what Digh would have expected: the Yuuzhan Vong invasion threatening to bring life in the galaxy as they knew it to an end. These men, some of them well seasoned, were afraid of something else. In an existence spent prioritizing threats, Digh could not imagine what had superseded the Vong in their minds. Something pressed on them he could not see then.<p>
He of course now knew.<p>

Republic-class Star Destroyer Rending Hand
Rendezvous Point Epsilon, Trilon Sector
Fall of Antei, Day 71<p></p>

Dark Jedi Master Kir Katarn knelt on the holo-plate emitter of Rending Hand’s _secure-communications vestibule. Before him, the massive holographic image of the Dark Lord Sarin hung in the dim chamber peering down at him in disapproval.<p>
“How did the Yuuzhan Vong know the location of the rendezvous, Justicar?”<p>
“I do not know, my lord. But the cargo is secure and the jump to lightspeed will be made in moments.”<p>
Kir did not say that the operation had flirted with disaster but for the piloting of the Arconan known as Zandro. A Yuuzhan Vong interdictor—now dying in the distance off their port side—had reverted from hyperspace just as delivery of the droids had been completed. It had held them fast with its powerful dovin basals and if not for the pilot’s actions they may not have made it. The timing was auspicious and Kir too wondered how the Vong knew where to find them. A leak in the chain of custody through Tendrando Arms where the droids had been procured no doubt, but he could trace the precise reason later.<p>
Right now they needed to jump away before the interdictor’s task force received reinforcements or the Deputy Grand Master would never see his plan for the YVH’s realized. The recovery of the droids meant a great deal to the Brotherhood’s war effort. So much so that Kir had been briefly assigned to _Rending Hand in order to ensure the mission’s completion. Katarn felt the undertaking below his station and had been only too happy to delegate the task to the willing Arconan. He would also gladly take the credit for the Vong-hunting droids’ safe return and find some appropriate way to reward the Arconan later.<p>
Katarn remained genuflected for several heartbeats as Sarin’s ethereal gaze rested upon his shoulders. Every second that passed was another opportunity for more Vong to arrive and finish what they had started. Finally the apparition spoke, “We await your return, Justicar,” and the transmission ended. Kir bolted from the holo-plate emitter emerging from the vestibule back onto the bridge deck. He absently rubbed the scar on the back of his left hand given him by a Vong warrior on the surface of Antei shortly before it fell and wondered how deep the Dark Lord’s disappointment in him ran.<p>
Finding _Rending Hand’s _commander dutifully waiting on him amid a group of staff officers, Kir simply pointed a finger at them and said, “Go.”<p>

Gamma-class ATR-6 Assault Transport
Polith System, Rimma Trade Route
Fall of Antei, Day 71<p>
“So what’s his name?” Digh yelled to the man seated across from him.<p>
“What?” Casen yelled back.<p>
“What’s—his—name?”<p>
The din created by the working of the engines and other myriad systems that allowed the ATR-6 to function made conversation nearly impossible sans their integrated communications helmets. But the buckets could be stifling and they had a few minutes more before donning them for the duration of the mission.<p>
The human across from Digh seemed to consider his question. He allowed his face to split into a grin and nudged the man next to him without looking away from Digh. “Salas,” Casen said. “Thrawn wants to know the Jedi’s name.”<p>
Salas didn’t respond other than to smile and shake his head admonishingly.<p>
Digh rolled his softly glowing red eyes; not that the two humans could tell. Sernpidalians, like the Chiss, were possessed of pupil-less red eyes that indeed glowed under certain lighting. Though his skin was naturally pale and not blue, his mates conveniently overlooked that feature in order to rib him ad nauseam about things like his questionable parentage and refer to him constantly as “Thrawn”.<p>
They knew his parents were dead, they knew he was no Chiss, but everything here was fair game. Thick skin was as necessary as thick armor. But the good-natured humor seemed to temporarily ward off the harshness of their existence. Besides, Digh had yet to meet anyone in the unit without a nickname. Or anyone who still had living parents.<p>
Finally, Salas yelled, “We call him ‘General’, Digh. But if you want to know his given name, go ask him.” Salas’ grin was now as wide as Casen’s, but no one looked to the rear of the compartment. _They _always knew when you were looking at them.<p>
Digh stole a glance anyway.<p>
Seated at the rear of the craft, the object of Digh’s curiosity was bathed in shadow just beyond the reach of the troop compartment’s red tactical lighting. Digh had seen them before; worked with a few—Knights he believed—but nothing like this. The Jedi was garbed in a black cloak seemingly big enough to hide a starship in. Staring too long at him made Digh’s head throb and he looked away.<p>
“You’re not very bright, Digh,” Casen scolded noticing the junior man’s gaze.<p>
Digh responded with a gesture universally recognized for indicating that one should mind his own business.<p>
Smiles all around.<p>
“What does he do?” Digh asked his comrades.<p>
Salas leaned forward, hands stacked casually atop the butt of his weapon muzzle-down on the deck. “We think he kills people the Grand Master doesn’t like.”<p>
“Praetorian?”<p>
“Just stay behind him,” Casen added with a wink.<p>
Humor was their bulwark to it, but they understood the seriousness of the subject’s nature. As part of the 75th, they were specially trained to work with the Jedi; indoctrinated to understand who and what their masters were. The conventional forces under the Army of the Iron Throne had little or no idea. Some suspected. Talk got around. But few knew the truth save for various high-ranking officers, Intelligence, and the 75th.<p>
Few would believe it anyway.<p>
“Three minutes!”<p>

Matalok Cruiser Analog Perfect Agony
Quelii Sector, Outer Rim
Fall of Antei, Day 71<p></p>
[They have no military. It was crushed,] Mendak Fak’ski spat.<p>
[It was. I was there,] Supreme Commander Kol Amnan said to the Intendant before him recalling the events of the dark heretics’ eradication. Silhouetted by starlight through an observation blister behind him, Amnan appeared every bit the symbolical power of the Yuuzhan Vong in this region. [But they have reared another brood of infernal machines. They are hatched like brinzlits in the skies above worlds not yet ours.]<p>
[You think them responsible for the dying-offs in the matalok rookery?] Fak’ski seemed to peer deeper into Amnan’s thoughts. [Or is it He who is krel os'a hmi va ta?]<p>
That name caused Amnan to look up from his brief reverie. Amnan’s intelligence gathering had failed even to produce the being’s name. The warriors serving in this sector had named him He who is defiant in the face of overwhelming odds. He had fallen on them like a storm when they arrived in this region of space. His sudden attacks were unparalleled in brutality and ferocity and unlike anything the Yuuzhan Vong had faced in opposition thus far. Whatever he was, he did not share his galaxy’s ridiculous stigmas to death and pain. He was worthy of his name…even if an infidel.<p>
The sickening majority of denizens of this galaxy were inherently weak. They would prefer to die clinging to their moral absolutes than do what must be done to survive. But not this one. He was different. Fortunately for Amnan He who is defiant in the face of overwhelming odds seemed to lack the resources to mount any large-scale opposition. At least not yet. His raids had been brief, vicious affairs leaving many Yuuzhan Vong warriors dead. But this was simply one more test by the Gods since Amnan’s elevation to Supreme Commander. It too would be surmounted.<p>
[I don’t know,] Amnan said closing the matter. Looking briefly out the observation blister then back to his company, the Supreme Commander took shrewd stock of Fak’ski before continuing, [But I fear the Dread One is too consumed by Yu’shaa and plots at court to appreciate the situation out here.]<p>
Fak’ski returned a knowing look. The heretical prophet Yu’shaa had plagued Shimrra of late by creating dissent and opposition within his very ranks. [There is much the Supreme Overlord does not appreciate.] Many things were conveyed in the following silence. Much about Shimrra and his ever-increasing paranoia and distance from reality. Much they dared not to utter.<p>
[The Gods themselves apparently among the slighted,] Amnan said.<p>
[You’re aware of the Slayers then?]<p>
[Yes.]<p>
Amnan had been tasked to seek out the remnants of one heresy while the Dread One did the unthinkable by creating another. Shimrra was losing focus. Many believed his connection to the Gods was faltering if not utterly severed. They questioned whether the Yuuzhan Vong were doing the Gods’ will in this galaxy or being lead astray. Much had been squandered already in resources and warriors not easily replaced nor forgotten.<p>
Amnan thought back. Zhaetor-zhae—Glory.<p>
It had been Nagto Mel’s final word before his end. Retrieved from the memory of _No Peace _after the battle, it spoke worlds about Nagto and the warriors he led that had shared his fate. He had refused to bow before Shimrra to be executed in shame by an assassin. Nagto instead had chosen the warrior’s path. The path Amnan would have chosen. If no honor was left in the madness at court on Yuuzhan’tar, Kol would find it out here. He would pay homage to those who had fallen for Shimrra’s quest and make such and end of his enemies that Yun-Yuuzhan himself would take notice.<p>

Gamma-class ATR-6 Assault Transport
Polith System, Rimma Trade Route
Fall of Antei, Day 71<p>

“Three minutes!” 1st Platoon echoed and donned their helmets.<p>
Optical sensors set into the soldier’s helmets popped into life. As their fields of focus were sharpened, brightness and contrast auto-corrected allowing them excellent vision in low-light conditions. Communications checks came down from the various nets monitored inside the helmets. Externally, all was silent but for the rhythmic throbbing of the ATR-6’s powered systems. Enclosed within the armored world of artificial light, data, and speech, the platoon was buzzing.<p>
“One minute.”<p>
“Cofferdam in place.”<p>
“First Squad, on me.”<p>
“Thirty seconds.”<p>
“Hard-seal confirmed.”<p>
The chalk leader gripped the bulkhead above him as the assault transport rocked into position alongside Payday. Turning back to the Jedi he knew only as “Raken,” the chalk leader inquired, “General?”<p>
Raken stood up unfazed by the transport’s motion as it settled in next to the Action-Keynne’s port side airlock. When no countermanding order was given, the chalk leader turned away and issued the command: “Breach.”<p>
“Fire in the hole.”<p>
A soft whump sounded as the breaching charge emplaced on Payday’s hull by the demolition droid blew inward buckling the outer pressure door sending it to the floor of the Action-Keynne’s inner lock. The droid was already at work on the inner door when Digh heard the command go from the chalk leader.<p>
As he waited his turn to exit, Digh blinked and the big Sith was gone; first into the cofferdam and what lay beyond. Blaster shots were already singing out.<p>
Just stay behind him.<p>

Action-Keynne XII Transport Payday
Polith System, Rimma Trade Route
Fall of Antei, Day 71<p></p>

“Put it on him! Put it on him!” screamed a Peace Brigader amid a flurry of incoming and outgoing blaster rounds. His face was blackened and his left eye bled profusely as he directed the hasty employment of a crew-served weapon.<p>
To their credit, the Peace Brigaders had mounted an ardent defense in the starboard-side corridor that granted access to the bridge. The soldiers aboard Payday differed little from the ones now assaulting them but that they had chosen opposite sides of the conflict and were not as well trained. But the decisive point of this battle had surprisingly little to do with soldiers and everything to do with the blood-red tower of Sith bearing down on them.<p>
Bodies landed raggedly at Raken’s feet cleaved by his titian blade or scored by their own fire reflected back upon them. Elements of 1st Platoon poured through the breach behind him moving off in the haze on their pre-designated routes to secure other parts of the ship. Some had been tasked to support the Sith moving tactically behind him from cover to cover securing ground as he took it. Digh was among them bounding forward and watching Raken work.<p>
The E-Web the Peace Brigaders had, which hadn’t been covered in the op-order, went hot and began turning the corridor into slag. In their desperation, the enemy didn’t seem to care if they breached their own hull. Their masters must have been as unforgiving as Digh’s own. Amid the torrent of fire Digh rushed to the cover of the nearest bulkhead protruding from the passage wall. “Digh—cold!” Dropping a nearly spent power pack from his rifle, he looked down the hall for enemy positions while slamming a fresh one home. “Digh—hot!”<p>
If the E-Web was a concern for the Jedi it wasn’t apparent as Digh watched him wade into the torrent of fire behind the weaving shield of his lightsaber. What wasn’t deflected or absorbed scorched past him shredding his robe and catching it on fire in several places. But not a single round found its mark. Digh and the others of his squad suppressed enemy positions aiding the general forward until he fell upon the E-Web crew like a rancor and the gun went silent.<p>
When the heavy weapon went down the remaining Peace Brigaders fled into the forward sections of the ship. Digh knew they would soon be cut off by flanking elements of his platoon now working their way through compartments forward of this position. When that happened they would assault the bridge and take full possession of the transport and her cargo.<p>
While clearing enemy dead before his squad moved on, Digh watched the Jedi shut down his energy blade and look around at nothing in particular. Akor reasoned he was communing with whatever force guided him in his actions. He found the company of the Jedi to be at once comforting and disconcerting. It was like being in a pit with a nexu that had just killed his enemies but also had yet to notice him. He half expected the Jedi to turn around and fix him with that hot white gaze for even thinking about him, but Digh was fairly certain they didn’t read minds.<p>
What was certain, if this Jedi was indicative of the rest, was that they killed enemy by the scores. And that served Digh very well. The more the Jedi killed the more he could kill. These hadn’t been Vong though, he reminded himself. _Karking traitors. _Tough though they were, but not Vong. Digh very much wanted to know what the Jedi could do up against those boys. Very much indeed.<p>
Raken finally seemed to get his silent answer from the nether and moved off into the shadows ahead his tattered robe trailing smoke.<p>
“Second squad, prepare to move.”<p>
Digh watched the Jedi stalk into darkness and knew his answer was coming too.<p>
“Moving.”<p>
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