DISCLAIMER
I don't own Star Wars stuff. Ok, glad that's done.
AUTHOR'S NOTES
Hello and thanks for reading this new story. This is an alternate universe where Malak kills Revan and another Sith threat appears alongside him. The Good ol' Ebon Hawkers from K1 and K2 must band together with new friends to defeat this threat. ONE THING!!! This is the first chapter, do not worry, your favorites ARE coming. Oh, and there is some language throughout this story, if its too much, I'm not forcing you to read it.
(Written by Pimp3dout335 and Morgianne)
Shadow's Eve
Chapter One – Darkness falls
"Hell, there isn't anything on this patrol, just another milk run." Private Francis Vohn muttered.
"Keep it down up there, private." Platoon Sergeant Rekken Voros was as tough as they came. He had seen more action against the Mandalorians then his whole platoon combined at the young age of 25. He had gotten stuck with a bunch of rookies after his squad was wiped out by a friendly fire incident. Badly wounded, he carried every man who he thought was alive to the aid station. Even though none of the squad survived, he was promoted to Platoon Sergeant for his actions and reassigned to another unit.
He and his company had gotten stuck on Eres III because Command had gotten antsy when they saw a single Mandalorian ship land on the world, so they sent in plenty of Republic soldiers to hold the planet. Morale was low from the many defeats they had faced, so Command wanted to kill a few Mandalorians and call it a victory.
To Sergeant Voros and the rest of the platoon, it was just another boring walk through the plains. Long green stems of grass parted ever so slightly as the men meandered across the terrain. The sun cast its glare over the weary faces of the soldiers. At the lead was Private Jon Menski, the Sergeant's favorite person to pick on. Minutes later the private stopped and turned around, looking very uneasy.
"Uh, Sarge?" he asked tentatively.
"What do you want now, Menski?" the Sergeant roared.
"There's a metal plate under my feet," he responded.
"There's a piece of metal in my hands. What of it?" the Sergeant retorted.
"I think its some kinda door."
"Wow, the Private's thinking fellas. That's a first, don't ya think, Vohn?"
"Hell yes, sir!" Vohn exclaimed.
Menski lowered his eyes and let the other soldiers examine the door.
After a few moments, Voros shot a look at Menski.
"What are you waiting for, maggot? Open the damn door!"
"Oh, sorry sir. I'll get right on it." He quickly shot into action and opened the massive metal door.
A gaping tunnel was revealed. Massive durasteel walls greeted the twenty soldiers.
"I think we should continue on, sir. Something about this place creeps me out." Menski stuttered.
"Everything creeps you out, Menski. We don't know what this is, and it deserves a look. Gorshun, you're point. I don't feel like having a rookie lead us into unknown territory."
As the soldiers piled in, Vohn laughed at Menski's discomfort.
"Big scary tunnel too much for you?"
"Shut up, Francis," came the reply.
In one quick motion, Vohn hit Menski sprawling to the ground.
"Don't EVER call me that again! You're lucky I don't kill you now, scum," he spat.
"Would you ladies quit fighting up there! Get the HELL down here!" the Sergeant called.
Vohn cursed Menski and followed the rest of the soldiers down. Menski lifted himself up and followed.
The squad of Republic soldiers didn't have far to walk before they came upon a large room full of laboratory instruments. There was no light source except in the center, where a man was hibernating inside a large tank that looked almost like a bacta tank. Distracted by their surroundings, the men began to spread out. Soon Corporal Gorshun came across a panel.
"Hey Sarge! I think I found some lights."
The panel sported two dials, one red and another blue, so the Corporal twisted the red one as far as it would go. After a few seconds, nothing happened.
"Huh, maybe I twisted the wrong one." he stated.
It was then that the men began to feel a vibration in the ground. The sounds of unearthly chanting crept into the room. Pictures of pain beyond human comprehension flashed through their minds - women, children, and even grown men, screaming in agony as atrocities were enacted upon them. Unknown to the soldiers, a dark red cloud began to form inside of the tank. The scenes playing out inside their heads increased in volume and strength. Then, as if someone had flipped a switch, it all stopped. The soldiers fell in shock from everything they had just witnessed, some mumbling incoherently. Even Rekken Voros, who had seen the untold horrors of battle, was stunned.
After a few minutes, the men slowly recovered. They all sat in a circle, talking softly of what they had just seen. A sound of thumping quieted the men. It was followed by a crash. The soldiers reacted quickly, all lowering their guns at the center of the room. What was once the man inside the tube was now a deformed being. His flesh was now rotting away, and in some places the bone was exposed. Blood dripped from his mouth and his eyes were crimson. In this state, he should have been dead. He screamed in anguish and dark forces echoed throughout the lab. The power was so intense that Voros' front line of men were ripped into flaming chunks of singed meat and thrown back, dead.
With only half his squad left, he screamed the order, "OPEN FIRE!!!"
Lines of laser fire tore into the being, but he just laughed. His palm opened, and a lightsaber was pulled from the wall, landing in his hand. Voros had heard stories of the Sith, but he knew nothing of their power. The rate of fire increased as the men became desperate and screamed oaths at the Sith. The deflecting rounds came back, felling the soldiers by their own firepower.
One round tore into Voros' leg. Swearing, he fell to the ground, primed a thermal detonator, and threw it screaming, "DEFLECT THIS, BASTARD!"
The resulting explosion collapsed the roof.
Voros' world went black.
He woke up, coughing from the dust and building materials scattered everywhere. The blast had thrown him into the hallway. He scanned the area and saw that Vohn and Menski were laying a little farther back than he. The Sergeant checked both of them for signs of life, then grabbed their uniforms, dragging them along. Rekken suffered from a laser burn on his leg and burns all over his body from the explosion. It was painful as hell, but not enough to slow the veteran down. To him, the loss of his men hurt more than any battle wound could.
The soldier pulled his two unconscious comrades over the plains of Eres III back to the field hospital. When he was in yelling range of the hospital, he screamed, "Medic! Medic! I've got wounded dammit! Medic!" Six medics quickly rushed from the tents with stretchers to help the three soldiers. They loaded them onto the stretchers, then marched them into the hospital. Bacta was applied to the Sergeant's wounds while he lay there. A familiar face made her way into the room.
"Skye?" he asked uncertainly. Skye Karas was a damn fine field medic who had been there through many of Rekken's campaigns. Though only the youthful age of 20, she had been patching up wounded soldiers for almost two years. Rekken couldn't help but smile whenever he saw her. It was always good to see a woman who didn't pass out at the sight of blood, and her sarcastic sense of humor always brightened the smoke-filled battlefields.
"Rekken! It's great to see you again! What happened? Pull the pin on a grenade and forget it was in your hand again?" she smirked.
The soldier's reply wasn't as lighthearted, "My squad was attacked by some sort of Sith. Only Menski and Vohn made it out with me."
"Oh, Rekken, I'm sorry," Skye said softly, the smile vanishing from her face. She could see the pain crossing unbidden over her friend's features, and she lightly touched his hand in a comforting gesture. Rekken managed a slight grimace before turning away.
Skye frowned in quiet contemplation as she bandaged Rekken's wounds. He stared stoically ahead, refusing to wince at the sting of the medicine she applied. He always had been tough, but there was much more under the surface to this war-hardened veteran. When Skye had first joined the war effort as a field medic at the age of 18, young, carefree, and full of ideals, she had had no way of being prepared for the blatant slaughter of thousands upon thousands of Republic soldiers. It had been Rekken Voros who had taken her under his wing, showing her what it meant to be tough and prepared to survive in the face of any odds. With his guidance, she had quickly become accustomed to the bloody battles and was no longer fazed at the sight of seemingly endless carnage.
Skye finished tending to Rekken's wounds, and he closed his eyes in exhaustion. Giving him a final passing glance, Skye gathered up the supplies, placing them back in their chests. Thankfully, it was the end of her shift. Another minute and she'd end up on the floor looking like a rookie who couldn't hold his juma.
"OH. MY. BLASTER BOLTS. How is it that so many soldiers manage to get wounded when there hasn't been a single encounter with the Mandalorians yet?" demanded Jada Byre, groaning as she stretched her sore limbs.
Skye laughed. "How is it that some field medics manage to act like they have perpetual PMS?"
"Shut it, you," Jada scowled, as she good-naturedly tossed a spare bandage roll in Skye's direction.
Skye ducked and waved at her best friend as Jada disappeared into the women's barracks, playfully sticking her tongue out at Skye as she did. Instead of following her friend, though, Skye began walking to the medics' designated rest tent. Although it had been a long day, Skye wasn't quite ready to sleep yet.
The wind softly blew her wavy, golden-brown hair about her face, and her normally sky blue eyes, the inspiration for her name, had turned a deeper, midnight blue to reflect the coming night.
Skye ducked into the tent, promptly colliding with its sole occupant.
"Oh, I'm sorry!" she exclaimed, an embarrassed flush spreading across her face.
"No, it is I who should be sorry," replied a gentle, softly accented voice. The speaker held out a hand and helped Skye up. "Are you alright?" he asked, a note of concern touching his query.
"Yeah, I was just getting acquainted with the ground. Apparently it's in good health," Skye joked sheepishly as she looked at the speaker for the first time. A wave of some indescribable force hit her as she stared into his bright blue eyes softened by an aura of kindness. His silky white-gold hair hung lightly about his face adding to the warm persona he seemed to exude. A voice in the back of Skye's mind whispered, "He will be important to you."
Skye was awakened from her reverie when the man gave a startled laugh. His eyes twinkled in genuine merriment as though he had never expected to hear good-natured joking in a place like this – a place about to be torn by the brutalities of war.
"Ah, well that is always good to hear," he smiled. "You are sure you're alright?"
"Yes," Skye rolled her eyes. "If you don't mind me asking, who exactly are you anyway?"
"Mical," he replied. "Mical Kelson. I'm one of the new field medic recruits." He smiled at her again. Skye was beginning to wish he'd stop. His evident kindness, charming personality, and overall gorgeousness were beginning to affect her in ways that she did not want. She had long ago sworn that she would never fall for any man. How could she, when…?
Breaking the sorrowful trail of thoughts that were beginning to overtake her, Skye smiled ironically as she declared, "I'm Skye Karas. And welcome to hell. Although not too much has happened here yet, once the Mandalorian brutes start their rampage, we're going to be up to our elbows in blood. So…I hope you can handle it."
"I think I can," Mical replied seriously.
Skye looked at Mical appraisingly. "I think you can too." Extending a hand, she grinned and proclaimed, "Welcome to the team!"
"I am honored…Skye," Mical answered as he took her hand.
Skye found herself falling into those gorgeous blue eyes. "Skye! Stop it!" half of her mentally screamed. The other half wasn't listening.
"Well, isn't this romantic," grunted Robert Forsen, the chief field medic, announcing his entrance. He shot a devilish grin at the still clasped hands of Mical and Skye. Skye instantly withdrew her hand.
"Oh no, don't mind me. Please, continue," Robert smirked.
Skye glared. "Is there anything you seriously need, Robert? Because I'm off-shift and I'm going to bed."
"Uh, yes now that you mention it." Robert's expression instantly turned serious. He paused.
"Well?" Skye prompted. She didn't trust him for one second. She and Robert loved to annoy each other, and she swore that he was struggling not to laugh behind his serious façade.
Instead of immediately answering her, Robert took a swig of juma and sighed contentedly. This is good stuff. Who knows when we'll get more of it?
"Robert!" Skye insisted impatiently. "I need to go to bed, and I don't have time for old cootheads drinking juma!"
"Patience, young one," he grinned wickedly. "Otherwise you will never reach enlightenment."
Skye stifled the urge to tell the old fogey to go to hell. Otherwise she might very well find herself working a triple shift.
"That's better," Robert said as Skye's face reddened with suppressed frustration. Oh, she was fun to tease. "Look, I guess you've noticed that we just got some greenhorn field medics." Robert nodded toward Mical.
"Anyways," he continued, "I need some people to take on these greenies in a kind of tutoring program. You know, show them the ropes and all of that stuff."
Skye shrugged. That wasn't so bad. "Sure."
Robert chugged another swallow of the precious juma. "Good. Then I have your cooperation." His eyes took on a wicked gleam. "And since you and Mical already seem to know each other so well, he'll be your pet greenie. Just make sure to feed him."
Skye choked out a strangled, "What?!"
Robert looked at her severely over the rim of his bottle of juma. "That won't be a problem will it?" he asked dangerously.
Skye glanced at Mical who was looking at her with a huge smile beginning to form on his face. Oh frack. "No, sir," she sighed.
"Good. Now leave," Robert dismissed with a wave of his hand.
Once they had walked a few paces from the tent, Mical turned to Skye with an eager smile. "I am thrilled to be working with you."
"Uh, great. Look, I really need to get to bed," Skye said while stifling a yawn.
"Of course," Mical replied hastily. He shook his head. "I'm sorry, I should have realized." He paused. "I will see you tomorrow then?" he asked hopefully.
Against her better judgment, Skye smiled. "Yeah, tomorrow."
Mical bowed and touched Skye's hand one last time before departing. Skye watched him go while struggling with her inner thoughts. Robert knew about her issues with becoming close to men. So why was he making her work with someone that she would undoubtedly become attracted to? She was going to have to be extremely careful and make sure that Mical understood that this was a purely professional relationship.
Wait a minute. Did he just bow?! Is this guy for real? Shaking her head in disbelief, Skye turned to the women's barracks.
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Robert Forsen chuckled to himself as the intoxicating effects of the juma began to manifest themselves. Skye was a beautiful woman, and it was about time that she got over her irrational fears of intimacy. She needed some fun in her life and so did that stick-in-the-mud Mical guy. Robert snorted. While getting to know the greenie earlier, he had learned through careful questioning and all-around nosiness that Mical had never ever even dated or kissed a woman before. So when he had seen the bookworm being affected by Skye's presence in about the same manner as almost every other guy who first met her…you know, like a love-sick puppy…until Skye socked them in the jaw for hitting on her, that is…Robert had decided that they would be good for each other. After all, she hadn't hit Mical yet, so that had to be a promising….
Robert passed out, the last drops of the juma sloshing about the bottom of the bottle.
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On the other side of the field hospital, the sarge decided to pay his comrades a visit.
"How're the sleepin' beauties doing?" he chuckled as he stuck his head into their tent.
"What the hell just happened, Sarge? There was that ass ugly creature kicking the hell outta the squad." Vohn then looked concerned, "Who else made it?"
Rekken's eyes fell onto Menski "Sadly private, we're the only ones who made it. I threw a thermal detonator and it collapsed the roof, saving our sorry asses."
Vohn just laid back, his mind on all the friends who had just died. He remembered Corporal Gorshun got it when that Sith freak screamed. Jason got nailed when a shot deflected right into his face. He refused to think of the rest. His mind traveled to the time before the Sith broke out of the tube. Wait, WAIT.
"Sarge, wasn't that guy normal before Gorshun twisted the dial? He looked like a damn regular human."
Rekken gave it some thought and agreed, "Know what you mean private. Did you see the panel?"
"Uh, yeah I was standing right behind Gorshun when he twisted some red dial."
"Yeah, I saw it too." piped up Menski.
"That decides it then, boys. We're gonna be investigating what the hell that was. Don't tell any damn medics. They'll come up some weird-ass diagnosis for us like 'Combat induced hysteria.' We'll tell my friend Skye Karas though. She's a tough person. Get some beauty sleep, ladies. I'll see you in the morning."
Voros felt a strange connection with these men. They had gone through hell and back just with him. Vohn was of medium height and muscular build. He had black hair which was slightly spiked, way against regulation. Voros was a taller figure, with more muscle mass than both of his comrades. His hair was a dark brown and he sported a standard marine-style haircut. Scars raked themselves across Voros' form. Greenish-blue eyes always seemed to be scanning the area around him. Menski was the exact opposite of his sergeant; he was short and somewhat scrawny. He had light brown hair which fell over dark brown eyes. His face wore a timid expression, not the tough, threatening look that his comrades wore. Timid or not, this man had just survived an attack from a Sith. Enough to give him respect, but hell, the Sergeant didn't respect anything… except his superior officers.
Rekken limped his way back to his tent. It was finally time to sleep and he was really damn happy for that fact. "Don't worry Sith, wherever you run, I will find you. For every man you killed that was under my command, I swear there will be hell to pay."
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Who am I?
I am a Sith.
I will call myself… Darth Vilad.
What is my goal?
To destroy all light.
How will I do that?
Kill everything that dares to stop me.