CHAPTER ONE
A darkened, bitter world orbited a dying star in a dark sector of the Deep Core. Cold and lifeless, no Republic or Imperial ship had dared venture in this area of the Known Galaxy, neither had this planet shown on any Republic or Imperial charts since space-faring civilizations first took flight throughout the Galaxy. From this planet existed a vacuum of decay and rot, no life could exist close to this planet lest they succumb to the morbid dark side energies that emanated from the primordial world.
Roth existed as a gray world of death, devoid of life and sustenance. Its history had been rich and ancient yet its death came quick and painful. No traces of civilization existed on this world as vicious, violent and unpredictable storms boiled across its surface like a Huttese temper. Acidic rains and unnaturally heated lightning scarred the surface whose ferocious fauna seemed immune to the beatings. Roth, as well as its seven siblings existed in a system whose sun had long ago fizzled into an icy dwarf.
Antediluvian oceans of this once lush world had formed into ashen goo; stagnate and rot. From orbit, land and ocean could not be discerned as the former continents had decayed into marshy bogs and putrid forests. Any who stumbled across Roth found themselves lost and disoriented; the planet took any life as the navigators entered orbit. A few ships of junk orbited around the orb like artificial moons awaiting their fate to be snuffed out by Roth's gravity. Despite modern life support systems, bodies of the zealous died in where they sat never claiming what rewards they may have sought. Roth's ancient secrets remained forever sealed as its promises led to demise. It was here that darkness incarnate was entombed.
A singular transport ship entered Roth's star system in a blinding shimmer of light. The vessel's sub light engines kicked in with a roaring, violet flame from its exhaust ports. Klaxons blared inside the cockpit alerting the occupants to a sudden discharge of the craft's shields.
"What the hell is going on?" A female voice shrieked.
"We've lost our shields when we exited hyperspace. Give me a few moments to restore them," proclaimed a male voice.
A graceful, pale hand reached from behind the neck of the male pilot, terminating in a vibroblade that flexed the skin above the man's collar. Another hand of equal beauty concluded with raven fingernails, glided across the white-shirted chest of the pilot's jumpsuit. The perihelion of the white dwarf loomed in the distance foreshadowing the fates of those who came before. Dark, lifeless orbs of rocky ice and dust remained inanimate in orbit, like ghosts wandering an old graveyard.
"Get our shields up now, before I have to use this." The female voice ordered.
"Yes mistress, I'll need about five minutes."
"You have three." A raven haired female graced her face upon the cheek of the male pilot, her ebony lips opened up to reveal a shiny crimson tongue which leeched upon the man's ear in temptation before retreating the weapon with her arms. Her curvaceous form slinked away to exit the cockpit through the egress door which strained in a hiss. The male pilot sighed in relief as his passenger removed herself from his domain.
Three other females awaited in the antechambers of the cargo hold; two other humans and the last, a Twi'lek-Zabrakian half-breed of a red tinted pigment. The commandeering woman kneeled upon the floor to join her companions. She had been dressed in a sheer, shapely dress of a raven color accentuating her curves and features of a medium height frame. The dress discreetly covered features while exposing her navel and lower back through the mesh fabric. A rudimentary Sith tattoo graced across her navel visible through the mesh material. The two other human females appeared clothed similarly. A fiery redhead woman featured an elegantly adorned raven dress, featuring her buxom figure, her Sith tattoo exposed briefly across the top of her cleavage. The dress crisscrossed across the front of her chest, exposing her pale skinned navel and amplifying her features. The other female whose hair had been accented in a violet hue, wore a subtle yet sheer raven dress ensemble which outlined her thin frame covering her more discernibly. A Sith tattoo adorned the nape of her neck. A crossbreed Zabrak-Twi'lek had been formed by a small frame as her lekku were adorned with the trademark vestigial horns of her other cross species. She was clothed with a see-through raven dress that exposed a small tattoo across the small of her back, marking a rudimentary Sith design.
The foursome huddled upon the durasteel floor around an ancient leather-bound tome. The cover had been etched with an ancient language that seemed almost indecipherable, its pages aged with a grimy, yellow tint while the covers were manufactured from livestock hides. Its age should have disgraced it with tatters yet it appeared nearly mint-condition. All three women entered upon a deep meditation as the lead woman reentered her dark trance.
"I can feel the darkness of Roth permeating us, my sisters. Soon, we will be in touch with its Master. The darkness consumes us. Let the fires of death control us, with this power, the Jedi shall be vanquished."
Sirens continued to blare for a few minutes as the women continued their meditations. The male pilot hurriedly worked to cease the alerts and regain shield strength, lest he become the victim of his mistress's blade.
"No job should pay this scrap," he cursed under his breath, "I just hope she can't read my thoughts."
The pilot's thoughts cursed and blasphemed his contract. Another alert came across his viewscreen reflecting that hull integrity had fallen to ninety-percent as space dust and debris had collided with his vessel. A worried look appeared across his face as the astrogation charts echoed Roth's approach over a thousand clicks away. Zayne Dax had been an experienced pilot for the New Republic, having served during the Yuuzhan Vong war and a survivor of the Battle of Sernpidal with his squad commander Kyp Durron. After the war and the formation of the Galactic Federation of Free Alliances, Dax had gone into the private sector; running cargo and passengers aboard his slightly used, modified YT-2000 transport. This was a most unusual fare.
Zayne had no time for this current conflict as the galaxy had been embroiled in a Second Galactic Civil War. Zayne tired of fighting, and had known nothing but war in his days. His father told him of the Clone Wars where he had served as a non-clone officer during the Second Battle of Coruscant and the ensuing Galactic Civil War as an officer of the Galactic Empire. He had heard the heralding adventures of Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi only to have ended abruptly when two Sith Lords had murdered the pair along with their Jedi counterparts thus creating the Galactic Empire. Palpatine strongly catapulted the propaganda.
Myron Dax had no time for family under Palpatine's Empire. He was neither loyal to any government, only loyal to his galaxy and the citizens therein. A few years after the Galactic Civil War, he wed, and fathered Zayne. He instilled into Zayne the same ideals; serve your galaxy, not your government. Now Zayne, in his early thirties had chartered this vessel The Red Dawn, from a Toydarian trader on Nal Hutta to which he was entitled to provide sixty percent of his profits. In the years following the Vong invasion, Nal Hutta and its neighboring moon crept slowly into the control of a few petty criminals. The surviving and remaining Hutts assessed their damages and returned their affairs into the black-market revitalization of their home world. Zayne's early fares had gone well, nothing unusual; political refugees, traders and merchants. The latest passengers had been his toughest yet.
Tera had been the harshest of the four, and apparently their leader. Her voluptuous figure enticed Zayne as she had swaggered her way toward him in a seedy smuggler's cantina. No questions had been the only caveat. Transport the quadruplet group to a remote planet far into the Deep Core, riches greater than any he could imagine was his recompense. Her reputation preceded her, as Zayne had heard from various spacers about her sultry exploits.
The Deep Core, more treacherous than navigating The Maw and only a few pilots and captains with credits in their eyes and fear in their hearts dared to venture here. Imperial and Republic astrogation charts provided no information as most were forgotten due to the risky hyperspace paths and strong gravitational wells from the surviving stars. Too close or a misguided hyperspace jump and the event horizon of the Galactic Black Hole could disorient any navcomputers causing the wayfarers to be consumed by the very fabric of space-time.
This system existed upon that black abyss. Klaxons blared to signal loss of shields and data corruption of the navcomputer. Tera's promise of reward was accompanied by her slinking, pink tongue worming its way across his lips at that seedy cantina in the lowly nightlife of Nar Shaddaa. Dressed in only a seductive red dress which seemed that her form was vacuum pressed into it, he recalled her sultry words enticing him into believing the reward was her.
Zayne rubbed his youthful chin that despised his age as a veteran of the Yuuzhan Vong war. Auburn hair graced the top of his head accentuating a pair of hazel eyes. His flight suit had been characterized with a white buttoned shirt and a pair of khaki colored pants held up by a black belt made of animal hide.
"Zordo had already received his share of this trip. I don't think I'll be seeing him again. By the Force, I mean that," Zayne thought to himself. As the approach to Roth crept into the view of The Red Dawn, Tera graced her way into the co-pilot's seat. She faced Zayne with a seductive pose, crossing her legs inside her dark skirt.
"How much longer," she asked.
"If these charts are right, that orb to our right should be your planet."
Tera glanced through the transparisteel viewport with emerald emblazoned eyes. Distant darkness permeated the cockpit illuminated only by the display lights and ever-present ruby alerts. Zayne had managed to silence the alarm system to gather his thoughts. The cold, white dwarf shone little light amongst its children as a withering mother lay on her death bed; the suckling children craving that last trickle of mother's life-giving milk. Tera closed her eyes to concentrate amongst the expanse of space. She could feel the cold decay of this system. History faded and forgot this planet. Her emerald eyes twinkled slightly in the white shimmer coming from the fallen sun. She leered toward Zayne, and pecked a raven kiss on his cheek.
Her nearly translucent hand moved across Zayne's chest nearly pricking apart his buttons, an astonished smirk came across his face as she began to seductively chant in the Sith tongue into his ear. With each arcane syllable, Zayne felt unnerved before grabbing her face with both hands and returning a passionate kiss on her lips. She fought her way out of his embrace and with a quick swipe; four bloodied scratch marks scarred his right cheek.
"By Sidious, you don't touch me!" She yelled, laughing wickedly. Tera propelled her voluptuous figure from the co-pilot's chair, her lustrous dress swished with the seductive movements of her hips as she charmingly detached herself from the cockpit. Zayne reached for a med kit underneath his pilot console, removed a sterile pad and applied it to his scarred face.
"Pretentious Hutt-slave," he muttered as he taped the pad upon his visage. The chamber door hissed open, revealing a silver and cobalt tinged protocol droid. The droid seated itself next to Zayne in the co-pilot's chair. He spoke with a common Basic accent programmed with most Cybot Galactica models of his function.
"Master, I've stabilized the shield generators and realigned the gravity generators. I calculate that our successful navigation of this system is approximately ninety-five percent."
"Thanks, See-ThreeQue Eight."
Zayne glanced in the direction of his console. The readout displaying the shield levels had gradually begun to rebuild. A red progress meter advanced to golden tint climbing steadily toward one-hundred percent.
"You've observed those girls, what can you tell me about them?"
"Master, it is not in my parameters to spy on our cargo."
"I didn't ask you to spy on them," Zayne glared.
"Master, I believe the one named Tera, keeps rambling on about a great power of the Force that resides in this system. Though, I must admit that my programming does not permit me to fully understand this concept known as 'The Force'."
"What do you know about this system? It doesn't appear on any navigation charts."
"That is correct, sir. This system does not reside on any known Republic or Imperial records. When I interfaced with the navcomputer before our jump, the coordinates returned a null. This system, as with other systems in the Deep Core, is completely unstable. The astrogation charts plot this system too close to Galactic Center. My records indicate that we are dangerously close to the super massive black hole at the true Center of the Galaxy. I calculate that our odds of return to Known Space are twenty-thousand, five hundred fifty to one."
"Great," Zayne sighed heavily, "Where the girls acquired such coordinates, I wonder."
"I believe it has something to do with that ancient writing they protect."
"Remind me again, what our payment is."
"Yes, master. The agreed upon sum for this trip was two hundred and fifty thousand credits, plus extra-curricular rewards; whatever that means. Twenty-percent of payment is yours; twenty-percent for repair and dock fees, sixty-percent is paid to…"
Zayne reached a hand over See-ThreeQue Eight's vocoder to cut him off. He didn't want to be reminded of who his boss was. Not that it mattered. Based on his droid's statistics, he may never return to known space. He knew that he already received his share by means of jewels and other precious items the women mysteriously possessed. The rest was to be paid in Republic credits upon return. Zordo had already received his share; insurance that he would get paid on every trip should Zayne never return on a tariff. Toydarians had ways of swindling money through any means necessary. Zordo's cousin, Watto worked business equally on Tatooine. Shrewd, unscrupulous business dealings ran in the family.
"Sisters, let the darkness of our Master surround us. Soon we will be in His warm embrace," Tera encouraged, standing in the passenger chambers utilizing enchanting syllables in her speech patterns. The other three women lounged amongst the passenger hold of The Red Dawn. Their ancient tome rested upon a table in front of the lounging couch where two of the women sat; the redhead and the violet one. The redhead seated herself against the edge of the upholstery, her knees gracing against her chest, arms folded along her shins. Her fiery red hair listed gracefully upon her shoulders, sleek hands culminated in slender, crimson nails.
"I don't care too much for that droid, Tera," the redhead proclaimed.
"Patience, Mandin. Soon the droid and his master will be sacrificed to the greater good of the Sith. "
"Sister Tera," the violet-haired human woman began, doubt expanding in her speech, "we don't even know where we are. How do we know this book even tells the truth?"
Tera engulfed into an enraged flame of anger.
"Sister Cresta, you blaspheme the true power of the dark side?" She raised a hand, extending a finger toward her fellow sister. Tera's face scrunched into a rage of disdain as a single bolt of lightning raced toward Cresta. A small burn etched into Cresta's forearm as she shielded herself from the Sith magic. The stench of burned ozone and flesh wafted into the room as the small spark retracted to origin.
"Force Lightning," proclaimed the fourth sister.
She appeared as a slender, red-skinned Twi-lek-Zabrakian half-breed surprised by the display of dark side powers. She removed herself from her seat to examine the wound on Cresta's arm. Her lekku slinked across her petite shoulders over her raven dress. She began to tend to Cresta's burn with slow licks of her tongue and wipes from her dress.
"Thanks, Hol'en, I should be fine." Cresta comforted the youngest of the coven.
"Master despises your blasphemies," Tera ordered. She paused to recollect her spirits, calming her rage with her fear.
"I can feel the dark side flowing through this ship. Our Master, the Ancient Dark One will see that the Sith prevail. The Jedi Master, Luke Skywalker is preoccupied fighting this new civil war. We are out of the radar of the Jedi Council. We can resurrect this ancient Sith Lord in relative safety. Then, we will swiftly strike at the heart of the Galactic Alliance and reclaim that which is rightfully ours, in the name of Our Almighty."
"So sayeth the One True Sith." The girls chanted in unison to acknowledge their mistress' commands.
Zayne and See-ThreeQue Eight stared over the readouts from the ships displays as the third planet in the system approached upon their vessel. A green meter on one of the displays demonstrated the shields at one hundred percent. See-ThreeQue Eight studied data from the approaching planet.
"Sir, I'm not quite sure, but it would seem that our destination has a most unusual atmospheric composition. Preliminary readings indicate an atmosphere consisting of a seventy-five percent sulfur- methane mixture. The other twenty-five percent consists of carbon and various other toxic elements. I would suggest dropping a sensor probe for further readouts."
With a press of a few buttons, a small flash of light emanated from below The Red Dawn. Rockets flared to propel the small probe toward the atmosphere of the destination. The small dot raced toward the surface of Roth, slowly decreasing into a speck from the vantage of Zayne and his droid. The sensor flared as atmosphere embraced the object.
"Sensor online. Atmospheric entry at "T" plus one. Confirm."
"Confirmed." The droid responded.
Zayne reached up to a lever above him as he maintained visual on the speck in the distance. Zayne continued to monitor the readouts coming from the sensor, See-ThreeQue Eight's assumption seemed to correlate with the sensor's data. Without warning, the readouts failed as the screen indicated the probe went offline. Hesitantly, Zayne discarded a second probe from his supply. Within moments of entering atmosphere, the second probe met the same fate as its brethren.
"Impossible. The atmosphere is nearly acidic!" Zayne studied the results in scrutiny.
From orbit, Zayne witnessed a violent volcanic eruption burst upon the surface of Roth spewing fiery magma into the acidic landscape. The sadistic beauty of death mesmerized the droid and for a moment Zayne saw his companion embracing the surreal moment.
"Our passengers won't survive this place. They'll need life suits, but we only have two. Would our shields hold?"
"Based upon the data from the sensor probes, our probability of our shields surviving the rough atmosphere is five-hundred…"
Zayne stopped his droid again, "Tell me in human terms."
"Oh, very well, excuse me. I would say very slim, sir."
"Based upon atmospheric readings of destination, confirm hull expectancy."
"Approximately five hours before hull disintegration begins," See-ThreeQue Eight replied.
"The Corellians believed in Hell, this is probably it. Place the ship in orbit, I'm not entering atmosphere yet."
Disgruntled, Zayne relieved himself of his pilot position and exited the cockpit chambers. He made his way toward the passenger quarters to find his four female passengers cavorting sensually amongst each other. Each of the women seemed to moan in ecstasy in an orgiastic display of dark side presence.
"Would you care to join us?" The flame-haired Mandin asked from amidst her coven, a lone pale finger pointed toward the young pilot, motioning him forward. Mandin's sultry form had been flanked by Tera on her left and Cresta on her right. Hol'en kneeled at Cresta's feet; her lekku slinked like tiny snakes seducing across her shoulders.
"You know you want to," continued Tera, "You never could resist me back at that cantina on Nar Shaddaa." Tera's hands followed Cresta's slender curved violet nails that slinked across Mandin's chest.
Zayne could feel his mind humming in monotonous vibration. He shook his head in a vain attempt to clear the sensations darkening his soul. A growling male voice in the bass octave pummeled inside his skull, calling to him from the Force. Join them, join me.
"What the hell?" Zayne gripped both of his temples between his hands, kneeling onto the floor.
Zayne's eyes appeared to gorge out of his head as the faint laughter of the quadruple set maniacally called into his brain. He focused on the one in the center, Mandin he recalled as his vision became blurry, filled only with hormonal desire.
Tera removed herself from the orgy and strode over toward the disabled pilot, leaning over from behind her victim. Zayne could feel her curvaceous features around his neck; her translucent, icy hands stretching around his head, shoulders and torso motioned him into a sense of desire. Her snake-like tongue tickled his ear through ebony lipstick, her teeth culminated into a small set of canine fangs. She reached her hands toward Zayne's loins to further goad him into her control.
"You will land this ship as I paid you. If you do not, I will remove your manhood with my own teeth." Tera licked at Zayne's ear again, tightening her fist around his genitalia.
"Remember, no questions."
"Yes mistress," Zayne muttered.
Tera released her physical and mental hold over Zayne as he collapsed to the floor in relief. His hands fell forward before him to brace his limp body. Zayne coughed and vomited his stomach contents as he regained self-awareness. Slowly he lifted himself to his feet, wiping his face of small bits of bile below his lips. He returned a scorned gaze downward upon Tera's grinning face; her pearly teeth iconoclast to her obsidian lips. Zayne could feel her evil intents through her snide grin. Her stature was a foot shorter than Zayne's. She returned to her flock, relaxed on the passenger chamber couch, this time each of the women in their own part of the couch; Mandin and Cresta on each side, Hol'en sat on the floor beside Cresta while her sharpened violet nails caressed the lekku. Tera dropped her dead weight in exact center of the couch as she faced Zayne.
"Get this ship to surface, toy," She sneered at Zayne as he made his way out of the passenger hold withholding his internal scorn from outward explosion.
"Master Dax, are you ok?" See-ThreeQue Eight requested as his master seated in the pilot's seat.
"I'm fine," he stated rubbing his chest. He touched a hand to the gauze on his cheek where Tera had scratched him earlier.
"We're going to the surface."
"Master, are you sure your calculations are correct?"
"They paid us. We go to the surface. We stay on the ship; we give them four and a half standard hours to return. If they do not, we leave. They never paid us for a return trip. Is the ship ready for atmospheric entry?"
"Yes sir."
Zayne pushed the throttle forward, the engines whined to propel The Red Dawn toward the embodiment of hell. Deceased ships evident of years, centuries of decay and rot floated in a ghostly orbit around Roth. The Red Dawn's experienced pilot zigzagged through the ethereal graveyard amongst the ships that met a dire fate; a fate of which his vessel mysteriously escaped.
With each passing second, Zayne recounted his days fighting for the side of the New Republic. All his valiant battles and glory would mean nothing if he died as a courier. He had questions; his passengers wouldn't allow them. His answers must lie in the ancient bound tome the girls kept closely guarded. Not even his droid, as benign as droids can be, would be allowed near that book.
The world seemed ancient to Zayne. From close orbit, he could make out the outline of ancient continents and the oceans that kissed them. A murky, sulfuric glaze of atmosphere tickled with methane clouds graced the transparisteel viewport of The Red Dawn. The friction embrace of atmospheric entry rocked the transport; nothing Zayne hadn't felt before, but this time it was different. As his chronometer recorded the entire trip, the shield meter began to decrease in fractional increments. And thus began his five hour countdown.