The following is a pair of vignettes focusing on characters from Plagueis before the events of Code: Dread. You can find the complete series here.

Ascendant Legion Base of Operations

Aliso City

37 ABY

In a hangar bay close to the foundation of the Pinnacle, swarms of Ravagers, Wraiths, and the Willing were doing military exercises.

It had been a long time since members of the Ascendent Legion had been proffered the carrot of actual combat. With most of the battles against the Collective taking place in the vacuum of space, Plagueis mostly relied on its glorious Ascendant Fleet to do the dirty work. Now, however, agents were being sent through the city to root out informants and dissidents, and the Legion’s job was to maintain a sense of order and be prepared for ground strikes at any moment.

Andrelious, still raw from the war and new to the clan, was smoking a cigarilla and leaning against one of the walls of the space as the soldiers pushed through their drills. He had seen similar demonstrations from his former clans - Arcona and Taldryan included - though to him, it was sometimes difficult to discern what was merely a dramatic display of showmanship and what was actually a representation of strength. He brushed a light coating of dust away from the lapel of his uniform, thinking of how his kids were faring in the room next door. As long as they weren’t playing with explosives, they would be fine.

As the faceless visors of the Ravagers and Wraiths caught the light of the hangar, an officer whom Andrelious didn’t know by name approached the rows upon rows of military assets, who all sprung to attention, firearms locked to their sides. The officer wore the standard Imperialist uniform with dark cap, her red hair tightly wound into a standard low bun. She stared at the array, arms folded, before speaking.

“Allegiants to Plagueis and loyalists to the Legion! The time has come for action, not for waiting - for striking, not for biding one’s time. For too long, we have simply reacted to our enemies in the region. No more. You will part of the great battle against our foes, and you shall contribute to their destruction!”

Even those who had been acclimated to say yes seemed enthused by this small speech. The Willing roared in approval. The Wraiths and Ravagers nodded.

“For Aliso!” cried the leading officer.

“For Aliso!”

“For the Dread Lord!”

“For the Dread Lord!”

“For the Ascendant Clan!”

“For the Ascendant Clan!”

Lovely, thought Andrelious with a sardonic grin. Now all they need to repeat “Adapt, Ascend, Avail,” ad infinitum until they vomit.

---

Hak’s Hideout Aliso City Two Hours Later

“So, I don’t get it,” Zuser Whuloc mumbled between bites of his deep-fried nerf sandwich. “We have an alliance with the Principate now. The Dark Council can take care of its own kidnapped Deputy Grand Master. Why the kriff are we bothering with the Collective still?”

“Because,” Muse Nashesir posited over the brim of her glass, “a wounded animal is still very dangerous.”

“Oh, you mean like the Dread Lord? You know...a literally wounded animal?”

“Not cool, Whuloc,” teased Silas. “Tavisaen is, like...two steps above animalistic. At least.”

“You’re being generous.”

The three of them had convened at Hak’s Hideout for drinks and a bite, as well for the chance to scout out any potential Collective spies to snuff out. In a few days, the “Aliso Law Enforcement” - basically, Plagueis’s troops - would be cracking down hard on any signs of chaos in the city. Any “threat to the public well-being of the citizenry” - or, more accurately, any threat to the clan - would be dealt with harshly.

They had expected Abadeer to accompany them, but the Togruta had declined, stating that he had, “other obligations…” whatever that meant. Still, the food was good. Zuser eagerly tore into his sandwich, the crispy meat laden with the perfect amount of spice.

“So, what do you think?” he asked through a mouthful of food. “Do I get to fly around in my ship again?”

“If you buzz the Pinnacle again, Tavisaen will nail your skin to the wall,” Silas replied.

“That’s more Wrathus’s thing,” argued Muse.

“Still. Skin to the wall.”

“I’m eating here!”

The door swung open, and Lokast Falls stepped him, his face hidden beneath a hood. He sat at a separate table from the other, and Naesc, the beloved Bothan bartender, swooped over to bring him his standard ale. The three other Dark Jedi looked at Lokast, then at each other, then back at Lokast. Zuser shrugged.

“Loner,” he murmured. “What can you do?”

“He’s Tavisaen’s apprentice, ain’t he?” grunted Silas.

“Yes. He’s a closed off one. Lot of trauma, I bet.”

Muse said nothing. She was thinking about the trauma Plagueis would inflict on the Collective. It was going to be very good.