Prologue

Walking through the crowded spaceport, the plainly dressed figure grinned to himself, taking long strides while pacing past groups of strangers. His hands dug deep into his pockets, one may have mistook him for a regular. He fit right in to the crowd of village scum, and amid the groves of gangsters, thugs, sadists, and prostitutes of this era, he could be one of them. That, of course, isn't to say he was, for in truth he was working on his own agenda.

The dark haired human glanced up as a shadow drifted over the filthy ground upon which he stood. Onlookers were mot shocked, as their expressions portrayed neutralityThe Sith vessel loomed over the village, a menacing beast hovering over its prey. This was Sith space, it was to be expected, and yet, the site still haunted even those who have spent their whole lives on the mostly desolate world.

The dull silver blade continued to swim across the sky, and if one looked closely, would see thousands of stolen Rakata starfighters, aiding in the escort of the monstrous vessel. The human gazed at this, waiting for it to pass over the distant horizon, when a familiar call garnered his attention.

"Dorn!" the voice cried out. Dorn turned to find Malis running towards him, taking great bounds. His grin grew into a massive smile, her presence a parasite which fed on joy rather than flesh. He walked towards the blue eyed woman, and they embraced each other, whilst passerby looked at the unfamiliar sight. It was an unhappy planet, an unhappy society, and these things were not meaningful to them.

"Where have you been, Malis?" Dorn asked her. The couple hadn't seen each other for two months, and when the Sith occupied this part of space, Dorn feared that the Sith had imprisoned her. It had only been a month since the Alliance, siding with the recently rediscovered Rakata, had declared war against the Sith, who had secluded themselves to one sector, in the unknown regions, after their demise nearly a century ago. Now with the Jedi Order spanning across the whole galaxy, the war raged on, a vicious, bloody war.

"On Coruscant. Alliance Intel needed me. But I'm here on Lehon now. We're together," Malis told Dorn, and kissed him on the cheek. "Come on. Let's go." The couple strolled towards a small cantina, an innocent looking bar, from which even at midday came rowdy shouts and loud indigenous music.

As the pair of humans stepped inside, they unwillingly met the cold glare of a Rakatan bartender, his wrinkled face and sad-fish complexion giving away his species immediately. He stared hard, no doubt assuming they were Sith sympathizers. Dorn, clutching Malis by the hand, paced towards the bartender, his eyelids crossed, furrowed, as an Aqualish patron looked on, sipping his ale monotonously.

The bartender, although clearly cross, showed no sign of fear or cowardice, only his sad-fish eyes, staring into the distance. Dorn approached the bartender, who showed now not a sign of acknowledgment, and Malis was at his heels.

"Bartender!" Dorn called out. The Rakata didn't hesitate to ignore this, so Dorn stepped closer and tried again. This time, the Rakata roused, trembling, and all of a sudden lashed out a small blaster, the gun aimed at his forehead, at which his eyes peered instinctively.

"On the ground, Sith."