**The Spike

GMRG Sparring and Training Facility

Antei System**

The hole in his chest still ached despite considerable healing from his wife. Bless her, he thought as the image of his wife came to mind. Teu Pepoi’s hands were now well practiced in the art of healing and her tongue well tempered as she continually scolded him for straining the wound during training. As much as Fremoc loved his wife though, his duties included training the Grand Master’s Royal Guard. That meant regular sparring, arduous activity, and the occasional re-injury of the lightsaber wound over his heart; the Grand Master’s merciful reprieve.

Sweat dripped off his naked torso as the previous class of initiates exited the room. He nodded with respect to the Quaestor of Revan as the man departed with the others. Next he would head a class of more advanced students, all at least Echelon II or higher. Cooling himself off in the small pool of water in a nearby podium he observed the next class enter. His gaze locked on Cado H’Darr. The Jedi Hunter was nothing short of a nuisance, a constant thorn in the Master Assassin’s side. What the Chiss lacked in personality and social skills, he seemed to make up for in the martial arts.

“Everyone, pair up”, Fremoc sauntered to the center of the room as per his routine and awaited the one trainee brave enough to spar with him.

Cado walked up, his training saber in his hand, “I request the honor of challenging you, Your Excellency”.

Something seemed off in the young man’s tone but Fremoc brushed it off. There was no love lost between them so it was no surprise the Hunter felt he had something to prove. The FIST hoisted the training saber off his belt and ignited it, saluting his opponent. Cado stood motionless for a moment before drawing his cloak aside to reveal two lightsaber hilts. In an instant he clutched both, dropping his training device, and charged the Assassin. Fremoc reacted with pure instinct. He parried the first blade, wriggled through the Hunter’s defense and plunged the training saber at the Chiss’s chest. The weapon, too weak to pierce the alien’s skin, burnt through the cloak and pushed his attacker back.

“What is this Cado? You think that because I knock you about every few days you can walk into this hall, my hall and attack me!?”

Cado glared at the Human man with his red eyes. His voice was flat, and full of contained emotion, “You’re hardly worthy of a hall when you slay allies as you run from enemies”.

Fremoc foresaw the renewed attack and reached out through the force, summoning a force pike from the wall to his hand. The Chiss’s charge carried him forward into the sharpened point of the pike. Cado’s momentum was killed as he looked down in surprise at the weapon emerging from his sternum before he keeled over and died.

->

<-

**Councillors’ Chambers

Dark Hall

Antei**

“The Grand Master has made himself abundantly clear on the matter. His hands are tied. There’s no evidence that Vismorsus ordered the attack, no evidence that Cado H’Darr was acting on anything but his own accord. No one would be stupid enough to order an attack on the Dark Council. You know my Brother’s stance on that sort of thing”, the Herald walked slowly beside his friend, speaking as though he were trying to convince himself, “He’s been in conference with Xen’Mordin all day anyhow. They will have discussed this at length I’m sure.”

Fremoc was nearing his wit’s end. First it had been the Chiss in his training facility. Then a lone mercenary missed his one shot back on Tarthos. He’d been found dead of poison before anyone had caught up to him. How many assassination attempts could an assassin survive?

“Come now! It’s obvious who’s behind all this? No other clan has any reason to attack me!”

Shikyo sighed as he buried his hands in the deep pockets of his jacket, “Listen: Just take it easy, watch your back and this will all blow over. I’ve been in contact with Tsainetomo. Between Methyas’s capture and your attacks, he’s just as irritated about this as you are.”

“Irritated!? You think I’m irritated?”

“No, I think you’re frightened, enraged, and nearly ready to explode. What I mean is that you’re a Son of Sadow and we will not let anything happen to you. Mark my words.”

The two friends ceased walking the corridor as they approached the chambers assigned to the FIST. Fremoc could sense the presence of his eldest son, Thomas, within. He couldn’t sense Teu or the other children and supposed they were out at the moment.

“Would you like to come in? Thomas is practicing his forms I believe”

The Keibatsu nodded politely and followed as Fremoc activated the sliding door. Inside the modestly furnished main chamber Shikyo recognized the face of Fremoc’s 13 year old son.

“Hello Father! Master Keibastu!”

Shikyo smiled, “Thomas.”

Thomas bowed slightly to the Herald and turned to his father, “Teu told me to tell you to leave your explosives in the workroom when you leave.”

It always bugged him when his son referred to his step-mother by name, “Explosives?”

Thomas bent down and picked up a box from the ground, “These.”

In an instant their world turned upside down. The contents of the box exploded outward, shredding the boy into mere molecules. The Dark Councilors were far enough from the blast that the shockwave merely hurled them into the wall. As the dust settled and his eyes began to focus, all Shikyo Keibatsu could see was red. He saw the bloody chunks laying about the room, how the FIST lay beside him motionless, eyes blankly staring at the darkened crater at the center of the room more in shock than injury.

The Herald raced from the chamber, down the corridor. The Force propelled his feet ever faster as he raced for the Great Hall’s exterior landing pads. He rounded the last corner at a full tilt, knocking aside the honor guard posted there just in time to see the Scholae Palatinae entourage file into their shuttle and the ramp close shut. He roared viciously as he charged the shuttle in mid-take off. With little thought he reached for his left handed saber and hurled it with as much power as he could manage. The blade activated as it spun into the sky and tore through a landing strut.

->

<-

**Jedi Council Room

New Tython System**

“Master, you know it’s what we must to do in order to secure our own safety from those… Sith.”

The Gand peered through the room at the conclave before him. Their anxiety was palpable, “I have faith in their Grand Master for now. For all his philosophical misdirection, I believe him to be a man of his word. He will prevent the Dark Jedi from attacking us.”

The Jedi sat quietly for a moment in deep contemplation before Master Xylar, a redeemed Dark Jedi himself rose to speak, “With all due respect Master Ji, I know these Dark Jedi. I know what they are capable of, their motivations, and their practices. Muz may be honorable to his word, but his word carries only so much weight. I implore you to instate this practice. If not for our sakes, then for the sake of the Harakoans.”

At this, the Jedi Master paused. The Gand rose from his seat in the conclave and paced the floor in silent conference with the Force. Truth was that while he held no trust in the Clans and Houses of the Brotherhood, a masked man claiming to be the humble leader of a hidden house had approached him and passed along information; information that had profoundly disturbed the wizened Jedi Master. Not only had the man known the location of New Tython, but he had revealed that others, with less benign intentions, may as well.

Ji took a deep breath before speaking, “Very well. All unknown vessels operating in our sovereign space will be subject to search and seizure. You will destroy all confiscated vessels without proper registration pending a full and thorough investigation of its origin and purpose. You may recruit the militia for this cause. Maintain one squadron in orbit at all times.”

->

<-

**TAR Rhapsody

Converted Lambda-class Shuttle

New Tython Space**

The interior of the shuttle was dark and quiet as the ten man team went about its business professionally. To all exterior appearances, the shuttle was nothing more than an Imperial model transport entering the system from its outer reaches. It was in-fact the newest acquisition of the its House. The shuttle’s interior was packed to capacity with sensitive electronics, ECM suites, and surveillance equipment. The freighter was in all actuality a spy vessel.

It had been three days since they’d entered the system and begun their operations. All sensors were directed at the planet dubbed New Tyhon by the Jedi of House Odan-Urr. Its location, normally kept a carefully guarded secret from the Houses and Clans of the Brotherhood had recently been divulged to the Quaestor of Tarentum and they had seized upon the opportunity.

A black-clad man peered across his screen, recognizing no new information or anything out of the ordinary. He looked up. The normally spacious bay of the shuttle was packed with equipment, bunks, and temporary refreshers. Stretching his arms and waving to his comrade for more Caf, the man rotated his shoulders to relieve the stiffness. Suppressing a yawn, he lowered his head again to gaze at the monitor to see twelve small dots rapidly approaching the shuttle.

“Contact! Bogies incoming; twelve-count”.

All hands raced into action. The ship powered to life and began to maneuver for an emergency jump to hyperspace, “Deploy electronic counter measures. Evasive maneuvers. Thirty seconds to jump.”

The fighters closed in at high speed. They were a motley crew of assembled fighters from various ends of the Galaxy. T-65 X-Wings, Y-Wings, a TIE Fighter, and at least two aging Eta-2 interceptors.

“Unidentified Lambda-Shuttle. You are in violation of New Tython Space. Stand down from hyperspace jump preparations and follow us back to base.”

The shuttle made no acknowledgement of the order and continued its preparation to jump. Sensing that the ship was nearly ready to depart, the squadron leader of the fighters ordered the hyperdrive disabled. A deft shot from one of the Y-Wings using its Ion Cannon overloaded the systems of the shuttle rendering it dead in space. The fighter pulled up along side the shuttle before the cockpit cracked open and a suited human male floated out. He rummaged around in a utility case for a moment before drawing out several cables. The man attached the cables to various points of the shuttle and floated around to the blackened windows of the cockpit. He peered through the transparasteel barrier and saw the pilot and co-pilot frantically trying to remedy their situation. It wouldn’t do them any good. The ship would require repair before it would fly again. Till then, it was in the possession of House Odan-Urr.

->

<-

**Quaestor’s Throne Room

Castle Tarentum

Yridia II**

Bloodfyre paced the hall deliberately. His fury was tangible to all in the room, who all seemed to have moved to the walls attempting to remove themselves as far from the man’s anger and rage as possible. He couldn’t believe the insolence of the Jedi: that they would dare fire upon and capture a vessel of his Navy. That they would dare challenge the might of the Sith King’s House.

He’d received word from Questor Eiko of Revan in person days ago that the Jedi were up to something. He’d dispatched the spy ship to confirm the details of Revan’s intelligence. Now, here they stood. Bloodfyre held no love for the Jedi of House Odan-Urr, he was still somewhat puzzled that Darth Ashen, Lord Khyron’s seat warmer, had not crushed them outright. Was the Brotherhood in such a depression that it could not afford to destroy its enemies? No, the lesser Houses and Clans were. Tarentum was strong, and he would remind them of that fact.

The Grand Master had been clear in his warnings to Scholae Palatinae and Naga Sadow however, even if it was evident to all that the Sith Lord held a bias towards his brothers Sadow. The two’s bickering had erupted into near war after the recent explosion in the Fist’s chambers. There was to be no open conflict between the Houses and Clans. Bloodfyre recognized he needed to step carefully. Odan-Urr could not be allowed to disrespect Lord Khyron’s legacy in such a manner without consequence, but he could not openly strike at them without incurring the Grand Master’s wrath.

“Admiral Scion.”

An aged man, clearly in his later-half of his days, presented himself. His crisp naval uniform was highly decorated and impeccably maintained, “Yes, My Lord Tarantae?”

“You will move Battlegroup Piranha into orbit around the Jedi’s world of New Tython. You will initiate an immediate blockade of their world. They are to receive no supplies, visitors, or communications. No one is to be allowed to leave. You are to disregard all communications from their Council. Should the Jedi be foolish enough to challenge your blockade, you will use all available means to defend yourself. Am I clear?”

“Perfectly, My Lord.”

->

<-

**Herald’s Office

Great Hall

Antei System**

The office was never a dull scene. Requisitions of the materials, supplies, and the logistics of their dispersal among the Clans and Houses occupied much of the goings-on around here. Ekeia managed much of that work under Master Keibatsu who had been noticeably absent since his reactionary attack on the Palatinae shuttle. Whispers and rumors spread like wild-fire as to the fate of the Grand Master’s favored brother.

In her Master’s absence, the young Krath maintained the office’s focus on efficiency by personally overseeing the arrival and departure of all shipments, logging each on her datapad. The work was strenuous, she wasn’t quite sure how the Herald managed it so well, but recently things had become worse.

News from Kr’Tal was sour. Taldryan was emerging slowly from the depression of the last few years, a funk induced by rival Arcona’s preternatural ascension to its current status. Perhaps it had been the Grand Master’s reward of their progress by restoring their status as a Clan that had her Quaestor so uptight, but Shaz’air Taldrya had been pressing her to do all that she could for her adopted home.

It was not in her nature to be underhanded. Ekeia preferred to be blunt, upfront with her problems, and deal with issues out in the open. It was part of the reason the Herald had taken her on as an Apprentice all those years ago. But things were different now. The Brotherhood seemed to be tearing at the seams. If one didn’t pick a side, one would be left without a safety net. Choose the wrong side, and one would suffer the consequences. Perhaps it had been the kind words of the masked man she’d spoken to days ago that had really reached her.

She looked at the datapad lying before her. Taldryan was her temporary home, but her time there had been comfortable. Arcona may have been on the rise for many years, but it still paled in comparison to the legacy of the great Taldryan. Perhaps picking a side wouldn’t be such a bad idea, she mused, if she picked the winning side. A shipment of infantry rifles, ammunition, and supplies, as well as capital ship parts and replenishments were scheduled for routine delivery to Dajorra. No one would notice if she shaved a few percent of each shipment off and sent it flying in another direction, namely Arcona’s longtime rival and adversary. Taldryan may even see her contribution as worthy of reward. Time would tell. She signed the order and sent it off.

->

<-

**Throne Room of the Grand Master

Great Hall

Antei System**

The air was dark and heavy in the presence of the Iron Throne. Many of the Galaxy’s most powerful Force users had sat upon its obsidian surface. The matter that constituted it seemed to radiate the very power of the royal bodies that graced its contours over the many millennia. In its presence, the Dark Summit stood silently, awaiting the arrival of their Lord.

Quaestor Taldrya stood confidently, a single hand resting on his hip, holding aside his dark cloak. A saber hilt rested there, easily within reach. The Miraluka eyed Consul Erinos Arconae carefully as though he were measuring the man up against his age-old suspicions and prejudices. Zandro stood beside a tall, muscular man. The mysterious figure, masked behind an enveloping hood and helmet, was the leader of the unseen House Revan. The two were close in conversation, whispering so lowly that the crisp figure of Quaestor Bloodfyre standing nearby seemed not to notice. Bloodfyre kept his own company in the presence of the Dark Summit and his follow Councilors, casting glares of mistrust and disdain their way.

Quaestors Vismorsus of Scholae Palatinae and Kaeth of Plagueis stood shoulder to shoulder, presenting a united front as they glowered at Consul Keibatsu of Naga Sadow. Tsainetomo stood near enough to Shaz’air to make it clear who had his back, should the individual tensions of the room erupt at once. No one was daft enough to move against their adversaries in the Grand Master’s sanctum though. To do so would be to sign their death warrant.

A loud creaking noise temporarily dispelled the tension in the air. A towering, robed figure emerged from a portal behind the throne and approached the edge of the raised dais upon which the throne rested. The Twi’lek stopped as he reached its terminus and announced clearly, “My Lords: the Grand Master, Lord Musashi Keibatsu, Dark Lord of the Sith, Lion of Tarthos.”

Though no one was speaking, it was as though a hush fell upon the assembled as the Dark Lord entered the room and took up a position before his throne without sitting. As one, they all bowed. Majesty radiated from his very being. His dark eyes conveyed little emotion, yet cut daggers of ice into the hearts of the House and Clan Leaders. From behind the throne, the various officers of the Dark Council filed into the Throne Room and stood at rest behind the Grand Master. The FIST of the Brotherhood, Fremoc Pepoi Sadow appeared sullen, as though a great weight had been hefted upon his shoulder, yet he stood proud and tall in his dark cloak. Beside him, a disheveled Herald glared at Xen’Mordin with a measured stare. It was hard to discern, but it appeared to his cousin Tsainetomo that Shikyo was having trouble standing without quivering as he stood beside the Headmaster, Taigikori Ayabara Dupar. The Voice filed back from the front of the dais and found space between the Seneschal, the Grand Master’s Chamberlin, and the Master-at-Arms. Noticeably absent were the Deputy Grand Master and the Justicar.

Lord Ashen peered at the assembled Dark Jedi, sensing the combined power of the trained men standing before him, noting that it was all his. He was not like Sarin, a man consumed with a lust for power, but this did not keep him from fully appreciating what one had when one had it.

“Gentlemen, please rise”, he watched with pleasure as they did as he commanded, “No… Something is wrong. On your knees.”

There were some looks of confusion but rather quickly the Quaestors and Consuls fell to their knees, “No, no. This will not do. Rise, my Lords.”

Yet more confusion as the Dark Lord of the Sith addressed them as equals. Several rose falteringly, while the rest stood to attention swiftly, “I can see this will take some work.”

The Grand Master paced before the throne before marching down the steps to the floor before them. They immediately moved to create a semi-circle around their Lord but were halted by an invisible hand that kept them from moving away.

“No, no. Please, remain as you were. Here.”

At that, the Grand Master took a deep, sweeping bow and lowered himself before the Quaestors. Clearly unable to discern what to do, the Dark Jedi stood motionless.

“What is it, Quaestor Vismorsus? Does my formality insult you?”

Stammering the Palatine crashed to his knees and lowered himself as far to the floor as he could muster, “Not at all my Lord! I… we are merely confused.”

“As am I Xen’Mordin. As am I. How is it that a Dark Lord of the Sith, the Master of this Brotherhood, must lower himself to your level for you to understand a simple truth?”

Bloodfyre, annoyed by the theater act cleared his throat, “Which truth would that be, Dread Lord?”

If looks could kill, the Tarantae would have blown away in the wind as a cloud of ionized particles, “That I am the Law. I am your Master. I command and you obey. Bow. All of you!”

In an instant seven figures prostrated themselves before him, “Bloodfyre, you will remove your blockade from around New Tython. All records of the system’s location will be purged from your navigation, library, and combat files.”

The Shaevalian looked up at the Keibatsu, “My Lord! The Jedi have captured twelve of my men, have hijacked a sovereign vessel of my Navy and had violated the prestige and honor of the Sith King.”

“You will find your men and your ship safely returned to you by days end. You will remove the blockade or the Sith King will be the least of your concerns.” As he finished that line of thought the Grand Master then turned his ire on another.

“Xen’Mordin, you will conduct a thorough search and purge all rogue elements from your House. There will be no further attempts on the lives of my Dark Council. An attack on any member of my Dark Council will constitute as an attack on Me! Am I understood?”

“Yes my Liege. What of your Brother, the Herald? My shuttle bares the marks of his attack”.

“The Herald has been disciplined and it is no longer your concern. As for my Cousin, Tsainetomo, you will draw your forces down from Priority Alert. My Brotherhood will not be fractured by civil war.”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“Zandro, Shaz’air”, the Grand Master approached the two, conscious of the long history between Arcona and Taldryan, “I’ve heard disturbing reports of economic sabotage and espionage. There wouldn’t be any substance to these rumors, would there?”

Shaz’air thought he saw the Grand Master glance at the Revanite, Eiko, but dismissed it as Zandro answered, “No, Master Keibatsu. Arcona has suffered some minor set backs recently in the galactic market; nothing serious enough to concern the Iron Throne.”

“And what of Taldryan?”

“We continue to recover from a minor slump, My Lord. As you well know, our great House has seen something of a downturn. Machines age, and so do parts. I cannot say that foreign agents caused the explosion at Altur, Master.”

Again, Shaz’air thought he saw the Grand Master look towards the masked Revanite. The Grand Master turned away from the Dark Jedi and returned to his throne, “Do as I command, and you will find my mercy generous. Disobey me…”

He let the gravity of his meaning sink in. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed them.

Outside the Throne Room the Quaestors and Consuls dissolved back into their little parties. They went their separate ways as they spoke.