Prologue
Darth Azrael had been thinking about this for a long time now. The very future of the Sith… his and Darth Revan's vision… depended on it. For over a thousand years, the Order of the Sith Lords had strictly followed the Rule of Two, as set forth by Darth Bane after he deceived the Brotherhood of Darkness… the ruling Sith order during his time… into destroying themselves, leaving only him and his soon-to-be-discovered apprentice. It's guiding principle, simplicity in it of itself…
Two there should be; no more, no less. One to embody power, the other to crave it.
And after a thousand years, Bane's vision had finally been fulfilled as Darth Sidious… known to the public as Chancellor Palpatine… assumed control of the Galactic Republic and remade it into the first Galactic Empire. And so once more, the Sith ruled the galaxy… and the Rule of Two had been vindicated as the one and only true path of the Sith…
Or had it?
The Rule of Two always intended for the Master to rule until his apprentice was strong enough to supplant him… by eliminating him. Yet there was a potentially fatal flaw in that design… one thing that was not foreseen and that happened on that fateful day aboard the second Death Star…
As had happened for a thousand years before, the apprentice, Darth Vader, killed his master… but was in turn mortally wounded by his master, Darth Sidious. The result… the extinction of the Order of the Sith Lords in the blink of an eye… was made so by the very rule that had driven them all along.
Yet, perhaps it was meant to be so. Just as Darth Bane wiped out a Sith Order he considered unworthy of their legacy and began to forge his vision from nothing but his mind and his will, perhaps the Force… the Dark Side... did the same with Darth Sidious and his empire.
Sidious had begun to deviate from the Rule early on, first by taking on an apprentice, the future Darth Maul, while he was an apprentice himself to his own Master, Darth Plageuis. Then again when beginning to seduce a new apprentice to the Dark Side, Jedi Knight Anakin Skywalker… the future Darth Vader… at the same time he already had another apprentice, Darth Tyrannus… the former Jedi Master Dooku.
Furthermore, unlike the Sith Lords that came before him after Darth Bane, Sidious had never planned nor desired to be replaced by an apprentice, searching for his former Master's secrets of immortality, which he had hoped would let him rule the galaxy forever. This became more evident as his Force essence returned to take over the clone bodies he had left in place in hope of perpetually extending his rule.
So perhaps his final demise… and that of the Order of the Sith Lords… had been brought on by the Dark Side… by the Force… itself… as punishment for his selfish ambition. It had long been thought that the will of the Force had caused the birth of Anakin Skywalker, who would eventually become Sidious's executioner… And some evidence pointed to Sidious's former Master as having had a hand, indirectly as it may have been, in it as well...
Maybe, just maybe…
And now here stood Darth Azrael, whose decisions would take the Sith on a new path of rebirth. Should he usher back the Rule of Two? Or should he look at the glorious empires of the past and aim for the Sith be legion once more? And besides the other scattered Sith he could sense even as they strode to hide their presence, there had also been a number of Dark Side cults and followers as well, from the Disciples of Ragnos to the Prophets of the Dark Side, from the Bando Gora to the Nightsisters. But in the end, they all met the same swift end, their impact on the galaxy and the Force minimal…
And that was certainly not what Darth Azrael intended for the Sith this time. His would be an empire, not a mere affectation.
And still the question remained… Now with a blank slate, with every choice and path available to him… what was he going to do with himself and his yet-to-be born Order?
Chapter 1
Staring out from the top floor of the presidential mansion across the beautiful landscape of the planet of Gala, Darth Azrael… or Guelim Soran as he was known to at-large public… pondered his next power stroke.
Officially, he was here to meet with the planet's Minister of Defense to finalize the takeover of production of the Galan Starfighter, the ship used to provide the planet's primary defenses, by the major starship manufacturer Sienar Fleet Systems (SFS)… which was owned by Santhe/Sienar Technologies… which was in turned owned by the Santhe Corporation.
SFS would now be responsible for the local ship's drive and power systems, but Guelim had insisted that the Galan Starfighter line retain its original name. He told the Galans that it was good marketing, that people already knew and trusted the name… no reason to change it even though the revenue sharing agreement with SFS would now make the latter the primary… and controlling… stakeholder.
Of course, Guelim did not bother to point out the other… more critical… reason…
Because he had no desire to broadcast the continuing, ever-expanding reach of the Corporation.
Although not far from his home base in Lianna, this was still one of the deepest move Core-ward… almost at the Mid Rim / Outer Rim boundary… for both him and the Corporation. And as he waited for the Minister to arrive, Darth Azrael's mind traveled back to the critical series of events over the course of the last several years that had led to this moment.
Alone in Roon's moon following his initiation by Darth Revan, he was at a loss on how to proceed… on how to bring back the Sith empire. But Azrael did know he would need to greatly increase his power… not just in the Force, but also in the physical world. And where better than in his own backyard. So upon returning to Lianna, Azrael turned his attention fully to Corporation business and the matters… business and personal… that came with it.
After having spent a considerable amount of time off Lianna the last few years as he fostered his pursuit of knowledge of the Dark Side, Azrael… or Guelim Soran more specifically… once more became a fixture at the Santhe Corporation offices. He volunteered to assist Lady Valles Santhe on anything and everything. He spent inordinate amount of time familiarizing himself with the immensely complicated workings, holdings and structure of the immense Santhe Corporation. And with the Force as his hidden ally, his performance continued to astonish even his most ardent admirers
Come his 15th birthday the following Spring… as the New Republic began to engage the Dushkan League, the ruling body of the planet Yevetha, in their first post-Galactic Empire conflict in what would become the Black Fleet Crisis… Guelim was named, as planned, Special Executive Assistant to the Chief Executive Officer. And as his first assignment, he took over as General Manager of Sienar Ships (SiS).
SiS was the civilian subsidiary of its parent company, Sienar Fleet Systems, and which manufactured an extensive number of commercial freighters and transports. Being its GM would, on the surface, not be viewed as a glamour position. But SiS did have an extensive amount of civilian ship models, and was the primary manufacturer and distributor of those in and around the Tion Cluster, the sector of the Outer Rim territories to which Lianna belonged to. All in all, it had a great foothold for an expanded commercial role in the Outer Rim market and the potential to generate great financial windfalls… if it were to be run properly.
Just the job for Lady Santhe's protégé to cut his teeth on and for Guelim to further prove his worth… and without raising any undue suspicion as to her future plans for him.
And it also allowed Darth Azrael the freedom to begin implementing the plan that had recently started to form in his mind.
Outside of work hours… although in a manner of speaking the matter was still indirectly Corporation business… Azrael's relationship with Karala Santhe, now 18 and one of the most heavily courted young women in Lianna's upper society, went to the next level as the two became engaged to be married, with him now moving into the main Santhe mansion in the estate… Too young for an ordinary boy back in Roon… Yet the young Sith was no longer neither ordinary nor a boy… but just right for a lady in Lianna… especially a power hungry one.
Now Azrael was fond of Karala, and liked and admired a lot of qualities of her's… both of character and physical… but he did not love her. And he was fairly certain that her growing obsession with him, as well as apparent heartfelt love, was more directed at what he represented… the Force-wielding, hand-picked, yet secret, successor to a massive, multi-trillion credit company… than who he was as a person.
Added to that was the complication that she knew his secret, and of his real past… the only person left alive that did… And even more critical was what would happen when… and he had no doubt it would happen… when Karala found out about Darth Azrael.
But he also knew his future… his near future at least… within the Corporation depended greatly on their relationship. And in his mind, the Corporation itself was to play a vital role in the return of the Sith…
So Azrael kept up appearances, strengthening his output of emotion with a touch of the Dark Side and, by all appearances, continued to form one half of the happiest, young power couple in Lianna.
But never did Darth Azrael ever let his continuing training in the Force go dormant during this time. Every waking moment that he was not performing his industry or personal duties had Darth Azrael immersed in the Force. He barely slept, relying heavily on rejuvenation trances and infusions of bota to replenish his body. He spent countless hours in deep meditation, constantly fine tuning his abilities of Force control, sense and alteration. He aimed to drain all possible information from the Tascollan holocron. And with his custom lightsaber in hand, he had renewed vigor in his private combat training against his battle droids.
But as he found out in Naos III, the difference between a controlled training environment and real life was almost immeasurable. No matter how much you practiced, living things were diverse, immensely complex opponents and it was nearly impossible to predict how they would react in critical situations. The leather strap wrapped around the handle of his lightsaber would be a constant reminder of that…
So Darth Azrael decided to combine and put into practice both facets of his life… The first step in the Sith's return to glory under his banner.
In the year 16 ABY, Lianna was extremely prosperous… but it was by no means an idyllic utopia. As it continued to thrive… as in almost every other civilized planet… the rich got richer and the poorer got poorer. In its poorer sectors… predictably almost the most populous… a rise in the crime element matched the elite's increased affluence. And Darth Azrael had learned enough to know that you could not lead from the top if the bottom was rotting. So on a particularly dark and moonless night, he sprang into action…
After using the Force to induce Karala to fall into a deep sleep, Azrael discreetly slipped out of the mansion… having long ago figured how to bypass all the surveillance equipment Lady Santhe had installed… and sped off towards the Industrial Sector, the known haven for criminal activity in the planet's capital. But on the way, he made a brief stop to make some necessary changes.
Had anyone been watching the plain, non-descript building, they would have noticed an apparently normal male adolescent, wearing clothing customary to Lianna's elite, stepping inside. And had they continued to watch, they would have thought the figure that came out shortly afterwards was someone completely different… and infinitely more frightening.
In the tradition of the Sith before him, Darth Azrael was clad in a dark, long, flowing robe. Underneath it he wore no armor or protective equipment, but a simple, form-fitting black garment. At all times he wanted to be aware of his own mortality. How one misstep, one lucky strike, would end his life… his reign as Sith Lord… much too prematurely. It kept his senses sharp and gave him a razor's edge. The Force… the Dark Side… was his ally, his protection… all that he needed.
As for the final feature of Darth Azrael's attire, it was also the most fearsome. With the robe's dark hood draped over his head, darkness shrouded his face. But a closer inspection might reveal inside the glow of T-shaped visor at the front of an armored mask, with the dark stain of blood spilled long ago splashed across it.
Shortly after his arrival in Drongar, Azrael came across the dead bodies of a group of Clone Commandos, the elite troopers being part of the nearly 16,000 crew members that had been onboard the fallen ship VCD987. As he walked through the wrecked, darken hallways, the echoes of death still rippled through the Force, even almost 30 years after the Battle of Drongar.
And the decomposed remains of one particular clone stood out to him the most…
This trooper had met a particularly traumatic ending. After a brief lifetime filled with nothing but war and death, the clone had spent the last few days of his life aboard the VCD987, under constant attack from Separatists forces… and coming closer and closer to the realization that he would never leave the ship alive again.
And as the wounded behemoth tumbled irreparably towards Drongar, the trooper's mind was filled with thoughts not of fear, but of hate and anger… towards the Republic and towards the Jedi. The architects of the Clone Army, the ones responsible for discarding him and his brothers like fodder, heaving wave after wave of clones against the Separatist's droid army like animals. The more that died, the more that were created, the more that were once more sent out to die.
Oh no, it would have been unthinkable for the rich, lazy, complacent citizens of the Republic pick up arms and fight for their own freedom, for their rights, for democracy… or for whatever trumped up reason they thought they were justifying the non-stop slaughter of clones. So just before the final flash of light as the VCD987 slammed into the planet's surface, the trooper could only think of one thing… how much he hated those that had put him in this place.
Azrael had picked up his helmet and had immediately sensed the mark of the Dark Side on it. A bloody handprint was evident on the front of it, and it was obvious that whether it had belonged to the trooper himself… or one of his victims… the clone had left it there to implant fear on those before him.
The young Azrael tried it on for size and instantly felt the traces of hate of the dead commando… growing stronger as it tapped into Azrael's connection with the Dark Side… in turn fueled by the still-open wounds that those that had wronged the boy in Roon had left on him… strengthening his own anger and hate.
He had taken the helmet with him, and had brought it along with his few belonging to Lianna. Now, years later, further demonstrating the heavy influence his master, Darth Revan, had on him, Darth Azrael had fashioned his own face mask out of it, both to instill fear as its former owner had intended… plus hide the secret identity of the future Sith Lord.
As he reached the Industrial Sector, Azrael could feel the fear, anger, confusion and desperation that permeated so strongly from it. Over the last few years, three main groups had bubbled to the top and began a fierce battle to assert themselves as the top gang in that territory. Between them, they controlled most of the criminal activity in Anai, the principal continent of Lianna … And now Darth Azrael had some big plans for them.
Standing in the darkness, glaring at the myriad of buildings, people and vehicles, he focused… tapping into the Dark Side… and could easily pick out the same type of smoke-like trails he used to follow as a Roon youth… Particularly the most vibrant ones… the ones that would take him to the worst of the worst.
A week later, the conflict between the gangs had taken on an extremely different context. Very few things unite foes as much as a common enemy… And that was exactly what they thought they were facing when their respective leaders had not been seen or heard of in all that time. Finally, the groups called a gathering at a neutral place to discuss the matter, although there were several attendees who still thought some of the other gangs were behind the disappearances. That all changed when they arrived at the meeting place and found the severed heads of their leaders mounted on pikes and a menacing figure in a dark robe standing there, waiting for them.
A few of them tried to pull out their weapons in hopes of getting a quick shot in, but their weapons flew out of their hands before any even realized what was happening. Others tried to flee, but found themselves getting knocked down, but by no discernible means. Yet others tried to scream at the dark figure, attempting to assert some level of authority, only to have their voices cut off, as if an invisible hand was choking the very life out of them.
And when the figure finally spoke, they all paid rapt attention…
"If you can stop acting like fools, I believe we have some serious matters to discuss."
It did not take Darth Azrael long to get his point across. Their turf war had been doing more harm than good… both to them and to Liann society in general. Their now former leaders had done a very poor job in looking out for their best interest and so, he had relieved them of their duties… and their heads… just to make sure they got the message.
A storm of blue lightning then exploded from his fingertips and fried a stunned Jawa from the assembled crowd without warning… and just before the small creature had finished pulling out the grenade from inside the sleeve of his cloak…
Again, to make sure they got the message. And the message was clear to all…
There was someone new calling the shots now and he wanted things done his way. And pity those that got in his way…
In no time at all, the Liann underworld went from a chaotic state to a brutally efficient machine. Rival gangs now formed one large, cohesive unit. The stranger had asked them that memorable night if blood and death… just a meek existence… was all they wanted. He had told them to follow him and he would show them a better way… He had spoken with such strength and conviction… as if the words themselves had some physical power behind them… that they could not refuse.
But their new leader also led through action, not having his followers do anything he would not do. And in doing so, he put on great shows of power, making no effort to hide that it was the Force that he commanded… his most powerful ally. And he wielded it without mercy, bringing spacers, smugglers, rivals and followers alike to heel, all of which garnered both his new followers' fear and respect.
But who was this stranger that had seemingly come out of nowhere and reined in the wildest element of Lianna's population with a show of Force not see in ages? During that first night, a Gamorrean, upon gazing at him, grunted a short phrase in his rustic language… Kenz'ei'Danlut… that roughly translated to 'mark of the blood hand' in Galactic Basic. Azrael liked the way it sounded, and since had been referred to by his followers as Kenzei Danlut…
And the rumors and legend had grown since.
His followers in turn, in thrall of their leader, decided to take up his distinctive symbol as theirs as well. They placed the 'mark of the blood hand' on their faces, and on their clothes and possession, created with their own blood. And it soon became that if you saw the mark coming, you better beware. And with every new, bloody palm print, the Dark Side flowed stronger into Azrael, the architect behind it all.
In the process, he also identified a small number of individuals among his ranks that had varying levels of affinity with the Force… unbeknownst to them… He leaned on them more than the others, gave them a chance to emerge from the pack… Perhaps one day they would further strengthen the reborn Sith Empire.
And the results of these efforts were dramatic. By the end of the year 16 ABY and dawn of 17 ABY, Lianna's underworld was controlled by the Bloodhands. All spice traded in-planet was monitored and distributed by them, as was all major smuggling. The group branched out and got involved in 'ownership' of eating, drinking and gambling establishments, wildly popular businesses like Bantha Traxx, an extensive restaurant and entertainment complex located in the upper-class areas of Lianna, and even Azrael's old haunt, the Sky Palace… their owners finding the group's offers of 'partnership' something they could not refuse.
Yet ironically, the increase in the power of these outlaws in turn brought a level of stability to the tumultuous Industrial and Lower Class sectors of Lianna… the places hardest hit by what had been a growing crime war… Random criminal violence saw a sharp decline and residents actually felt safer walking the streets, and even saw improvements come to their communities. This in turn earned the 'Hands a certain level of admiration and respect from the very ones most affected by their activities… just as Darth Azrael had intended.
And with Guelim Soran on a fast track within the Santhe Corporation, and Kenzei Danlut ruling the streets of Lianna, Darth Azrael's adopted homeworld was in order and ripe for continued control…
Meaning it was time for the young Sith to begin to expand his grip outside of it.
Chapter 2
Alone once more after the Defense Minister's protocol droid had exited, Darth Azrael returned his gaze outwards and now focused on Gala's three moons, all visible in the clear night sky. The droid had come to convey a message from the Minister asking if he… Guelim Soran… would be able to meet the New Republic envoy that was currently visiting Gala… and envoy that was also accompanied by a Jedi.
The group was visiting to meet with the Republic Ambassador in-planet and, upon hearing of the negotiations, has asked for some brief time to meet the SFS representative simply to convey how pleased they were in their investment in the Galan Starfighter, which had served both the Jedi Order and the Republic so well in the past.
He had of course graciously accepted the offer… which he had expected to come in the first place. Darth Azrael's reach had spread across a considerable expanse of the Outer Rim, and the time for direct contact with the New Republic was at hand. And when his informants had told him of the delegation to Gala, Guelim Soran had scheduled his trip to coincide with it.
And the inclusion of a Jedi…? That had been a welcomed bonus. Azrael had previously avoided direct interaction with them… they who would most likely be the chief opposition to the return of the Sith… so as to ensure his identity remained secret. But the time was at hand now. The Force had granted him this opportunity… to meet face to face his future antagonists… and he was ready take it.
So he continued to wait as he watched the transit of the heavenly bodies above him… and thought of the time, really not that long ago, when he started to branch out and continue to reach for the stars…
The Tion Cluster was a densely populated sector in the Outer Rim, consisting of over 12,000 stars, orbited by almost 600 habitable planets. It had a long and storied history that pre-dated even the Galactic Republic of old, most noticeably coming into galactic prominence well over 25,000 years ago. That was when Tionese nobleman-turned-pirate Xer VIII began to carve out a kingdom out of the cluster's various star systems… which was then taken to its zenith by his son, the legendary warlord Xim the Despot.
Xim conquered almost the entire Tion Cluster and extended his reach all the way to boundaries of the Hutt Empire, the preeminent power in the galaxy at the time, all while subjugating thousands of worlds over his 30-year reign. Eventually, Xim was captured by the Hutts, dying in bondage at their capital planet of Nal Hutta…although Tionese lore still stated that he had actually been betrayed and killed in battle, and not died in a cage like a common animal.
Regardless of which were true, Xim's influence on the region remained to the present day, from treasure hunters long on the trail of his fabled hidden fortunes to the millennia-long continued servitude of the native species of the Si'Klaata Cluster… the Klatooinians, the Nikto and the Vodrans… to the Hutts following the Treaty of Vontor, named after the planet where Kassak the Hutt's forces finally defeated Xim's and ended his reign.
The Cluster was presently divided into three sectors, The Cronese Mandate… by far the most populous of the three… the Tion Hegemony and the Allied Tion, the last being the manufacturing and trade center of the region… with the vital Perlemian Trade Route, which connected the Core, the Corporate Sector and all the regions in between, passing through it… as well where as Lianna was located, and where Guelim Soran and Darth Azrael decided to place their initial focus on.
Leaving Lianna on his first official trip as GM of SiS in late spring of 17 ABY, Guelim Soran boarded his personal Ghtroc 720 freighter… formerly the Hopeless Diamond and which he had since rechristened the Atiduo'kia Aureole… A seemingly meaningless and non-descript name, unless you were familiar with the Old Sith language… or had a holocron thousands of years old… in which case you would have realized it meant 'return to glory'… A name veiling an unwavering purpose…
When asked about the name, Guelim would go into stories of his mother's ancestors and the language of their distant homeland, talking about preserving their memories… which was usually sufficient to discourage most from continuing that line of questioning.
And now he guided it towards his first destination, the planet of Lorrad, to meet with the leaders of Lorrad Flightworks (LorFli). LorFli had been manufacturing repulsorcraft for centuries, their flagship product being the venerable H-12 copter airspeeder. The company also had a dark history, as the people of the planet had in the past provided forced labor working in heavy-machinery factories for millennia, and of the backs of which LorFli had been built-on.
The company chairman was taken aback at receiving someone arriving under the banner of the massive Santhe Corporation, but was soon put ease by the young man's disposition… as if he physically radiated calm and confidence. So he did not put up much of an argument when Guelim made his substantial offer to buy one of their newer lines of airspeeders… significantly upgraded from past models but with just a handful out in the field… and bring them into the SiS family of products… They wanted to expand, Guelim had said… Neither did he oppose when Guelim offered to partner with them on the H-12 and help LorFli to both modernize them as well as expand their distribution across the sector.
And by the time Darth Azrael boarded the 'Aureole to begin the next leg of his journey, SiS had also since become a minority partner of Lorrad Flightworks… completely the company president's idea, although he could not recall exactly how he had thought of it. It was almost as if just popped in his head out of nowhere… with Guelim Soran being named to the LorFli Board of Directors.
And as the ship flew off, the chairman headed back to his headquarters to attend to a new pressing matter…
His laborers, long under his yolk and broken of their spirit, had, in the last few days, started to riot. There were even reports that a foreman had been killed… and that his head had yet to be found. And rumors were swirling that behind it all was some sort of… mysterious figure… and something bloodstains on his face… or what passed for his face… He would have to address this quickly and decisively before it got out of hand…
Guelim Soran… and Darth Azrael… next headed to the Allied Tion sector capital, the planet Jaminere. Yet even this apparently meaningful title was simply a holdover from times gone by, the planet having become more of a symbolic figurehead than anything else. These days Jaminere had little influence across sector politics, especially when compared to Lianna, the best known and, by far, most influential planet from the Allied Tion.
So of course, the Sector Governor was ecstatic to receive a member of the Santhe Corporation senior staff for a rare visit… was impressed by the young man's firm handshake and deeply moved by his words thereafter, surprised at how convincing he sounded when pitching his ideas…
When Guelim Soran departed a few days later, SiS had signed an exclusive contract to provide executive airspeeders for all government, in-planet transport… The governor did not even know SiS offered that type of vehicle, but it was just what they needed... surely it would help make operations more cost effective, not to mention, pleasant… Even better, SiS presented the governor with one of their newest deluxe VVIP transports, as a sign of support from both the company and the people of Lianna.
The governor even agreed… or did he not suggest it?… that Jaminere should increase its visibility to the rest of the sector… It was the capital planet after all… And on that note, he decided… did he not?… to set up an Ambassadorial office in Lianna. That way they could use the sector's industrial hub's immense influence to add strength to the status of the capital. Lady Santhe… now nearing her 110th birthday… even received a post as a Special Advisor, with Guelim being named as a consultant for the sector's Transportation Department, with talks also beginning on several government transportation, development and security contracts being outsourced to various Santhe Corporation subsidiaries.
All in all, Jaminere and, more importantly, its role as Allied Tion capital and seat of government, ended up stronger than it was beforehand… had it not?
Having now made significant progress at the first pair of key locations, Guelim went on to make a series of quick stops in his continuing tour of the Allied Tion Sector…
On the planet of Amarin, he obtained an order of intent… backed by government credit… from their Commerce Guild for the still-in-design H-35 heavy lift copter, a new joint venture between Lorrad Flightworks and SiS, that would immensely help with logging operations on the dense forests that covered so much of the planet. Heading next to the ocean-covered world of Spinax III, a comparable bargain was struck, this one for the MH-35, a 'marinized' version of the new copter, preliminary design work in process thanks to recent influx of capital to SiS.
The visits to Desargorr, Embaril and Dravione were all relatively brief, with Guelim Soran taking in the renowned beauty of those worlds in the company of several planetary officials… all in their brand new, personal airspeeders, modified to better traverse these planets' mountainous terrains.
And with several weeks having passed, Guelim's business trip had been a very pleasurable and highly successful one, substantially increasing SiS business profits and influence… thanks in no small part to a little Dark Side influence. He retuned to Lianna to give a presentation at the Sienar Fleet System's… SiS's parent company… Board of Directors meeting, as well as to put in some quality time with Karala Santhe, for whom he brought home an colossal bouquet of rare Desargorrian flowers, found only on the shores of immense and beautiful Lake Rutsuhga… plus the even bigger surprise of a key role in the Capital's new ambassadorial office in Lianna.
All the while, the legend of Kenzei Danlut continued to gather strength… In Lianna, where the Bloodhands continued to dominate the planet's underworld… In Lorrad, where the oppressed people had risen up and taken up arms… As well as tales being told by travelers, relayed at stations and wayports, of an eerily similar solitary figure being seen across the Cluster, some saying his eyes glowed, others describing a resemblance to T-visor, and even more swearing he was marked with blood…
Meanwhile, back in Lianna, his engagements meeting with great success, Guelim found himself in much higher standing that he had going prior to his prior departure. Refreshed and emboldened, he once more boarded the 'Aureole, and headed out to complete his sweep of the sector. Everything to date had gone to plan and with relative ease, with Guelim Soran being the centerpoint of action…
But as the boarding ramp came up behind him, he expected Darth Azrael would soon be playing an increasing role. So after engaging the ship's hyperdrive and once more beginning to traverse the breadth of the Allied Tion sector, Darth Azrael closed his eyes and entered into a state of deep focus… tapping into the flow of the Force… and a source of the Dark Side he had sensed earlier in his travels…
During the return to Lianna, as he was in a meditative state, Azrael had felt a presence… a hunger… in the Force, unmistakably touched by the Dark Side… And now, as he had always been so adept at doing, Azrael followed the trail back to its origin… to the neighboring world of Abraxin… a swampy planet of little renown, except for two things. The first was the very sought after Abrax Cognac, its primary export and source of revenue.
The second… much less sought after...
Guiding his ship simply through feel more than sensors, Azrael glided over an opening in the tree line and, after turning control over to his droid R5, he jumped out through the escape hatch in the bridge and dropped into the swamp below… Into an area touched by the Force… and which exhibited an almost primal yearning…
Watching the 'Aureole rise and head towards Abraxin Central, the planet's capital, where the SiS protocol droid on board would contact the regional governor and advise him of Guelim Soran's imminent arrival, Darth Azrael strode into the foreboding darkness of the Abraxian swamps, soon surrounded by scores of gnarled trees and up to waist deep water.
And that was when he saw them…
At first, barely visible in the dim moonlight, Azrael saw just a group of large, forms breaking through the surface of the water. Then the dull, cracking, green-grayish skin and dark red eyes of the hulking figures in front of him became apparent… as well as the source of the Force he had sensed.
Marsh haunts were predatory, Force-sensitive creatures who lived in the swamps of Abraxin and whose fearsome appearance had given rise to legends of 'Force demons' haunting the planet. Although non-sentient, they were able to use their Force powers to assist them when hunting… and they could clearly feel the dark power radiating from the being now in front of them.
There were five of them… The largest… at least twice as tall as Azrael… advanced straight towards him, while the other four broke off into pairs and attempted to flank him. Azrael could sense the confusion coming from them, especially the big one. Its instincts saw Azrael as prey… yet as he reached out to him through the Force, as he had done so many times before, the creature's limited mental capability could clearly help him see the obvious… the prey before him was much more powerful than he was.
Darth Azrael seized the opening and in turn reached out to them, taking hold off their simple minds and touching their primal essence. Their raw savagery, barely kept under control, flooded into the young Sith's mind fueling his grip on the Dark Side, just as his mental strength and cool demeanor merged with theirs… and came under his influence, his control… just as easily as the beasts in Roon's Bantha graveyard had almost 10 years before…
The moment though was violently interrupted as a flash of blinding pain followed by pure rage flowed through their shared Force connection. Azrael turned towards the source in time to see one of the marsh haunts, blood oozing out of an opening through it torso, crumpling to the ground… Senses blaring, he quickly identified three other life forms… human males… some distance away, feelings of exuberance coming from them… with at least one of them carrying a large, sporting blaster rifle.
The fury of the marsh haunts flowing through him, Darth Azrael pointed with both hands at the hunters… giving a very clear signal… and his minions followed suit. From then on, he could sense them as he were almost there… As they submerged themselves into the murky waters… as they traveled with surprising speed towards their target, relying on a primitive usage of the Force to guide them… the thrill of the hunt as they burst through the water and lunged at their attackers… and the sheer terror in their victims that came along with it…
Darth Azrael felt it all… as if he was right there with the creatures… the flow of the Dark Side of the Force burning like a star as he guided them… and as they tore their victims to shreds… They had attacked his first and without provocation… just like the thugs in Roon had done to his family… and now they paid the price…
And he liked it… the power he felt… felt stronger from it…
The marsh haunts, now dripping with blood and consuming their prey, looked back at the powerful figure, waiting for his command… he had become their alpha male… Darth Azrael sensed this and released them from his grip, sending them back to the wild, yet the memory of him would stay permanently imprinted in their memory… And as they touched the rest of the marsh haunts throughout the planet with the Force, it would pass on to them… and they would also follow him…
Which also gave him some great ideas…
Abraxin was now his… As he began the long walk to the capital, his heart pumping with energy, Darth Azrael would make sure that was clear to everyone else… within Abraxin as well as the rest of the Allied Tion… and beyond.
Chapter 3
Desevro was a planet with a long, proud history, originally serving as capital of the Livien League during the times of Xim the Despot, even serving as one of his two capital worlds. Later on it would become the capital of the Honorable Union of Desevro & Tion sector following his death. Soon after, the Union came in contact, and engaged in war, with the budding Galactic Republic in what would turn out to be a dramatic conflict. The respective capital planets of Desevro and Coruscant were heavily bombarded, leading to massive casualties.
The tide finally turned against the Union when the Republic enlisted the help of the Hutts… who still despised anything that posed any reminder of Xim… leading to the Union's final fall. Not long after, the Union became a member of the Republic… But not Desevro, which continued to adhere to their independence. With its capital defecting, the Union reorganized, eventually becoming known as the Ancient & Honorable Union of the Tion Hegemony… which is still does to this day.
Yet neither faction saw much fortune in the millennia that followed, both the Tion Hegemony and Desevro becoming immaterial factors on the Outer Rim… The latter, over time, becoming integrated into the Allied Tion Sector. But even in the face of long standing adversity, the people of Desevro remained stubborn and proud… or at least, their elites did.
The Thirty Seven Families was the moniker for oligarchy… made up of descendants from the first humans to arrive in the Outer Rim… that ruled Desevro from their luxury estates on the islands of the Swamplands, away from the hustle and bustle of the capital city of Maslovar… while underprivileged humans and nearly every off-planet alien lived in the slums of the cities under harsh conditions…
And their hate, anger and suffering was a beacon that drew Darth Azrael like an Alessian terror moth to a flame…
The city, once the proud jewel of the planet, had fallen into a state of extreme disrepair, leading to a visiting historian to once refer to its present condition as a "carcass," which was further evidenced as how visitors and wealthy residents favored traveling around in airspeeders and copters, so as to avoid all direct contact with the decrepit conditions of the roads.
That would be of definite interest to Guelim Soran… but not to Darth Azrael. The young Sith had a different agenda as he headed out into the Desevian night, the glow of the planet's lone moon the only light reflection off the dark robed figure as he silently made his way around the city… in search of his target.
Kual D'Arsan was a human information broker in Maslovar who, over decades working as spy and slicer, had gathered a significant amount of sensitive information on the Thirty-Seven Families… Their capital might have fallen into decay, and their planet an irrelevant backwater rock, but the 'Families still were power brokers within Allied Tion Sector politics, themselves the keepers of much sensitive information as well… Information that had allowed them to retain their influence even as their planet itself decayed… including, some said, knowledge of the location of a long lost horde of treasure once belonging to Xim the Despot himself.
And because of the knowledge he possessed, the 'Families worked to ensure Kual's continued safety, out of fear of what he might reveal about them if captured by their enemies, providing him with not only major financial benefits, but also constant, round-the-clock protection… which unfortunately for him, would account for little against what was coming for him this time.
Headed this late night to visit his favorite spice dealer, Kual knew something was wrong when he noticed he was suddenly levitating. His feelings of concern were made worse as he was then flung backwards and into a particularly dark alley, his mood going into full-blown terror as he found himself hanging upside down… and staring into a bloodstained mask inside a dark shroud.
"H… ha, ha! Yo… you fool!" Kual spat out at his assailant, trying to muster up the courage to mask his fear, "Do you know how many have tried to capture me before? Do you think its that easy to find out the secrets that I know? You will suffer the same fate as all the rest!"
Having gotten that out, Kual began to feel some semblance of valor… all of which evaporated into cold fear upon his masked assailant's response… said in a grave tone and without removing his gaze off of Kual…
"Why? Because of the man who thinks he is sneaking up behind me?"
Holchas Ap-Ianghe was a minor member of the Thirty-Seven Families, known to the locals simply as just another socialite, but who was secretly a master assassin… and currently in charge of the protection of one Kual D'Arsan. Holchas had killed dozens of targets and aggressors, most of which through the use of poisons… a particularly nasty sort of one lining the razor sharp tips of the darts presently speeding towards the individual who had snagged Kual.
Darth Azrael had sensed the assassin's intent long before the assassin had aimed his weapon towards him. So to Holchas it almost seemed as if the mysterious figure had extended his arm towards him before he had even fired the dart… which only added to his shock as he saw the small streaking missile stop in midair and fall harmlessly to the ground well short of its target.
Knowing the slightest hesitation could be the difference between life and death, Holchas rushed his target while suddenly brandishing two poisoned-tipped blades… just a minor cut would be deadly….
But not as deadly as the dark red blade of energy that unexpectedly materialized as he was about to strike who Holchas had presupposed would be his next victim…
Azrael easily parried away a pair of strikes from the startled Holchas, then drove him backwards with a flurry of forceful strikes of his own… Holchas fought back like a wild animal… slashing wildly without a pattern, just fighting to survive… but Azrael could already tell… foresee… that the fight was as good as over. As good as Holchas was, he did not possess the power that fueled Darth Azrael. His fine tuned senses showed him there was no possible way that Holchas could win this fight… And he reveled in it, began to tease his frightened victim with swift swings of his lightsaber… prolonging the encounter, making him suffer… drawing strength from his victim's growing feelings of dread.
Yet suddenly a sharp throbbing in his left forearm sent Darth Azrael a stern reminder…
No… Never again…
A short flurry of purposeful strikes and Holchas was disarmed and missing his left arm above the elbow… and his head shortly afterwards…
Using the Force to constrict the blood flow through his arm, Azrael applied invisible pressure to his veins and forcefully pushed out through the cut in his arm the poisoned blood from his system before it had a chance to take full effect. It was extremely painful, and he briefly felt lightheaded… but it was not as painful as his self-recrimination for again acting the fool…
He could never grow overconfident… he could never assume a task was complete until he saw it done through to the end… These were the recurring mistakes of a child not a Sith Lord… How could he hope to forge an empire if he kept repeating the same stupid mistakes…
Humble yourself… Never again…
Kual saw all of this unfolding in what seem like only a few brief seconds and quivered in terror as the horrible mask… with that horrible bloody handprint… turned then to face him once more and said…
"Now, you were saying something about secrets that you know…?"
A few days later, fires began to break out in Maslovar, and rioting was reported in the slums. And the Saheelindeeli, Desevro's indigenous species of ape-like, green-furred humanoids with only limited technology and who long had wrecked havoc on the elites, began to act out even more violently, almost feral-like.
The Ruling Council of the Thirty Seven Families did not often see off-planet visitors … as they were of an extreme xenophobic nature… and unscheduled ones were unheard off… Except today, when a solitary figure, dressed in a simple, black hooded robe walked into their conference chamber.
The voicing of their combined indignation was halted when the figure pulled back his hood, revealing the chilling visage underneath it… The blood… the hand… their gazes were riveted to it… Only broken by the sobering announcement that followed…
"My name is Kenzei Danlut, and I would like you to know the Thirty Seven Families work for me now."
"You have signed your own death warrant!" came back the reply from the Chief Councilor, finally getting his wits about him, "We have protection to take care of the likes of you."
"Do you mean him?"
As the severed head of Holchas Ap-Ianghe suddenly rolled on the floor towards him, the Council realized things were going to be a lot different from here on out… Then, just as if to re-emphasize this, Darth Azrael added… "Now look outside."
The Council members all rose and turned towards the large windows that adorned the back of the chamber… and saw the immense mob that had assembled outside … Oppressed aliens, impoverished humans, the poor and sick that for so long the 'Families had neglected… calling for their blood.
The severity of the situation having fully sunk in, the Chief Councilor turned back towards Darth Azrael and said, "What can we do for you?"
Leaving Desevro, Guelim Soran headed next to the world of Cadinth, a neighboring wealthy port planet, heavily industrialized like Lianna, as well as a fellow former supporter of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, and where the young Sienar Ships GM planned on making some very advantageous dealings…
But how that would be accomplished was abruptly changed when Darth Azrael felt a shriek of terror coming from somewhere on the planet's surface…
Leaving the 'Aureole in one of Cadithn's executive corporate docks, Azrael opened himself up to the Force, locating the fright he had sensed back to its location… its nature feeling so familiar to Alandres Cal… his heart aching with every passing moment that he did not reach it… his anger growing…
His search led him to the capital of Saskapeg, and the vast mansions were the Prime Oligarch of the Cadinth Oligarchy, the head of state of the planet, Marlex Castell resided. Darth Azrael silently made his way into the main residence, then crept up towards the top floor… nothing for than a whisper… a shadow… to those he went past. Finally, he paused outside of a door, no different than all the others… Except that it was here… Behind it, something… someone… was crying out in panic. Acting out on instinct, Darth Azrael all but ripped the door off its railing with a tug from the Force, allowing him passage inside… and viewed the sight within…
The Marlex stood there, in only his undergarments, accompanied by an attractive female, shock, fear, suspicion and concern radiating from them as they gazed at the frightful figure that had just walked in on them…But they still could not overshadow the terror Azrael sensed from within… elsewhere. Marlex lunged for a nearby control panel… to set off an alarm no doubt… but a flick of the fingers from Darth Azrael, and he was hurled backwards against a wall… The blade subtly hidden in the woman's palm also did not escape his attention, but he needed to find what drew him here…
The pain… the suffering… it was… it was… there.
A wave of the hand exposed a recessed panel, uncovering a hidden closet… And inside… a sight so appalling that Alandres almost burst out in tears… A young boy, no more than 4 or 5 years old, bound and gagged inside the small, dark room… He looked so much like Cardoc and Toral, taken from him so young… pure terror in his eyes… just as he had felt from his dear brothers all those years ago back in Roon… right before they were murdered…
And then Azrael saw the rest of it…
Blades, ropes, razors… stored inside the small room… and a collection of holo-vids… documenting the horrible things the Marlex Castell did for enjoyment… and for his perverse viewing pleasure at later times…
The seething cauldron of fury that now boiled inside him barely contained, Darth Azrael kneeled and approached the boy… frozen in horror… removed his mask so only the boy could see, and whispered to him… his words strengthened by the Force… "Do not worry. Nobody is going to hurt you anymore."
Azrael slid his mask back on, then rose and turned to face the other pair in the room. Pulling back his hood, Marlex and his companion recoiled in fear at the sight… the blood… that gruesome bloody hand… as the intruder raised his right arm towards the woman.
Suddenly, she froze in place and tried to raise her hands to her chest but could not… as if her body was unable to function properly… Releasing his fury and letting the Dark Side flow through him, Darth Azrael clenched his right fist and the woman dropped dead on the spot… Her heart crushed to nothingness by the fury of the Force…
Marlex began to tremble and stumble towards Azrael, begging him, "Please! Please, do not kill me! I will give you anything you want!" And the response he received was in turn even more chilling that he thought possible, "I am not going to kill you. But before I am done with you, you will beg me to."
The Cadinth Oligarch had hoped his screams of agony might alert his security detail as the searing lightning coursed through his body but was but dismayed as an invisible, vice-like grip around his throat prevented even the slightest scream of anguish to escape from his mouth…
And as the 'Aureole left Cadinth behind… now with an extra passenger in tow… Darth Azrael was still in a foul mood, the punishment he had dealt out doing little to relieve him of it… That was not a good omen for those that unwittingly awaited him at his next destination… His spies had been busy and had advised him of a troubling development, but one that worked well into his plans…
The High Chancellor drank a large gulp of his planet's finest ale, and called a toast to his host, the First Count of Barseg. And as all in attendance followed suit, cheers rose through the banquet hall within the opulent castle, almost leading one to think these were still the days of the heyday of the Kingdom of Barseg…
It had been a long time… over three centuries… but the touch of the Dark Side was hard to remove, and easy to follow… which Darth Azrael did to the planet of Barseg upon leaving Cadinth. Millennia ago, Lianna had been conquered by the Kingdom of Barseg, and a pair of Liann provinces… Caldara and Berene… had been annihilated and wiped from existence after they finally had risen up and fought for their freedom. The screams of fury, fear, anger and terror, which had died out ages ago, still haunted the lands where those colonies had existed, and Azrael drew strength from them as he followed the trail to the home of their executioners…
Retribution was long in coming but had finally arrived…
The Galactic Republic had mostly ignored Lianna's cruel subjugation, and had not intervened on their behalf until it became beneficial for them to do so… not until the continued prosperity of the burgeoning Santhe Corporation, led by entrepreneur Kalew Santhe, became beneficial to them… and even after though, Lianna continue to be abused and taken advantage of as an industrial center… And the Republic wondered why Lianna… involved through Sienar Fleet Systems… had supported the Separatists during the Clone Wars, or why they had stayed aligned with the Empire for so long…
As for their former oppressors, the Kingdom of Barseg…? It had withdrawn into its boundaries and stayed out of the course of major galactic events… until now. Arriving at Barseg, Darth Azrael sensed a heavy flow of repressed anger, fueled by the lost pride of a once proud society relegated to irrelevance… and the hope of one day returning again.
And 300 years after their self-imposed exile, Darth Azrael found on Barseg not a contrite civilization, or one that had been living in blissful contentment during this time… but one that was gearing up for battle. Everywhere he saw signs of war fighters being built, troops under heavy training, weapons factories operating at full capacity… The tension that Azrael sensed planet-wide in turn fueled the anger that had been stoked by the events in Cadinth… it flowed into him… he absorbed it… powering the Dark Side inside him, clamoring for release…
The first explosion came from a major ammunitions supply depot… followed by one at the Turbine Development Center... and one in the planet's primary spaceport. Soon, the Kingdom's Ground Forces were put on high alert and high value targets came under surveillance. The matter at hand was clear, if not the reason…
Barseg was under attack, but why… and by whom?
When production was halted at one of the shipyards due to suspected sabotage, the first ground troops were sent out, instructed to track down a lone figure that was seen fleeing the area… None returned. Then, after a military training facility was vandalized, a pair of messages was founded, carved into the outside walls of the building, "Remember Caldara" and "Never Forget Berene."
Lianna! It was all so clear to the High Chancellor now… Who else who have a reason to attack them? They surely had been holding a grudge… some sort of blood vow… all these centuries! And now, they had finally struck, taking the battle straight to Barseg… And just as Barseg was preparing to strike at them! As long as Lianna had been waiting to enact payback, so had Barseg been waiting to regain what they had lost… thanks to the meddling Republic… But Lianna had struck first! How could they have known? Well, two could play that game… and Lianna would pay dearly for it.
Calling on his Minister of War, the Chancellor ordered the pressure bombs to be launched. An old favorite in the Outer Rim, pressure bombs had long been used for orbital bombardment, releasing immense amounts of pressurized energy, causing widespread damage. The bombs had in time become obsolete though, until most recently, when the Empire developed inter-planetary versions of them. Upon its fracture, samples from their large inventory were easily obtainable through the black market.
The Chancellor watched a remote feed from his palace, seeing as the missile silos opened… and being shocked beyond belief at the unexpected sight that followed… A flash of white light… a massive shock wave… then utter destruction before the transmission was suddenly disrupted.
Yet the outcome was clear... The bombs had detonated before they launched. Somehow, the Lianna saboteurs… reports had only spotted one individual so far, but that could not be right… had gotten to them… The most secure location on the planet, as impossible as it seemed, that was the only explanation. Their own weapons of destructions used against them.
"Quite a tragedy, is it not?"
Hearing the grave voice behind him, the Chancellor snapped out of shock… only to go into a different kind surprise as he saw who had uttered that phrase… his gazed fixed on the masked figure before him… he could not turn away from that awful hand of blood…
"You did not think your actions would go unnoticed, your deeds unpunished?"
The Chancellor backed away, speechless… but not defeated. He reached around his desk, pulled out a hidden blaster and fired towards the intruder… And on a day in which nothing had been as expected, he almost was not surprised when the blasts were easily batted away by a suddenly appearing red lightsaber blade.
But for a turn, it was Darth Azrael's turn to be startled at the unexpected sound of mocking laughter… and a loud alarm beginning to blare. As the Chancellor then said, "Ha, ha, ha! I have more enemies than just you, Jedi… Liannan… or whomever you are. That is why the main security alarm is set to go off upon sensing any weapons discharge! Ha, ha!"
The next series of events happened so fast, any observer would have been hard pressed to accurately describe them. Darth Azrael opened himself fully to the flow of the Force, instantly sensing the five dangerous figures rushing towards the room… So the Chancellor wanted to make things difficult for him.
Good…
Turning towards them, his ignited lightsaber deflected an incoming blast back towards it attacker, killing him on impact… Four to go…
A tug with Force on the blaster rifle of another as it fired, the ensuing blast hitting one of his partners in the back… Three to go…
Then two, as the guard that had just shot his partner… slowing for a moment at the horror of what he thought he had just done… fell to a thrown lightsaber, which separated his head from his body…
The remaining two guards fired as one, but Darth Azrael was already in the air, sailing over the wayward shots… hitting both with powerful blows to the head, one a kick, the other a punch…
The Chancellor could only watch in fear as the lightsaber floated in air and made its way back to the outstretched hand of its owner… then delivered two lighting quick strikes… permanently eradicating the last of his security detail, all in a matter of seconds.
"So your intent is to once more impose on Lianna the yolk of slavery? The threat of destruction?" the intruder now said to him, as he walked over the corpses of his guards and approached him once more, "Then think again, your Highness."
"Li… Li… Lianna belongs to Barseg! It is part of our ancestral heritage," the Chancellor finally responded, summoning what was left of his courage, "The meddling Republic took it from us! And now with the Republic gone, the Empire in shambles and this so-called New Republic dealing with its own problems, we will take it back… By any means necessary!"
"Well, it is quite a war machine you have constructed here, Chancellor. Too bad you will not see the fulfillment you intended for it… Rest assured that it will be put to good use though. It is just a different destiny I have in mind for it… and one I am sure the Counts will surely see my way as well."
"You will not live to see it!" the Chancellor yelled while flashing a wild grin as he reached into a pocket and pulled out his final wild card… a proton grenade. The Chancellor then swung his arm and threw the grenade at the intruder, intent on killing him… and himself if needed… But his blood ran cold as he found he could not release his fingers from their grip on it… as the intruder's arm extended in front of him, his hand forming a grip of its own.
"The time has come for Barseg to move forward under a new regime," Darth Azrael plainly stated, then a motion of his hand followed in which from a grip it went to a flat palm toward the Chancellor… who then hurtled backwards and crashed through the window behind him… his scream of surprise and terror being cut short as the grenade denoted well before he hit the ground far below.
The Allied Tion Sector now belonged to Guelim Soran… to Kenzei Danlut… and, most of all, to Darth Azrael.
And that was when his danger sensed kicked into high gear…
Chapter 4
"Relax," said the sultry voice from the back of the room, "The tension you radiate will make you easier to detect."
Darth Azrael smiled and replied without turning, "Either your Force senses are getting stronger… or mine are not as much as I thought they were."
"I hardly need the Force to tell me when you are tense."
The truth of those words stayed with Azrael as the memories of the genesis of their current relationship came back to mind…
Darth Azrael was moving before events even began to unfold. His hypersensitive danger sense grabbing at the base of his skull, he Force-leapt backwards, his senses taking stock of everything around him, pinpointing the source of the threat as he somersaulted into an attack position. When he landed, his lightsaber was already lit and he was dashing forward, a plasma pistol blast just now beginning to speed towards were he used to be, but ultimately too late…
It had all taken just a blink of an eye. Everything after that developed much more slowly…
The carmine blade a mere flick of the wrist away from decapitating his attacker, Darth Azrael briefly paused so he could forcefully extract from him the reason behind the meaningless attack… before the attacker met his demise. It was in that brief moment that the "him" said in a surprisingly sultry voice, "A bit high-strung, are you not?"
It was then that Azrael realized his attacker was a familiar-looking Lethan Twi'lek… Dren Ku'ula… His adversary back in Naos III.
Azrael wavered for just a fraction of a second, and even though he wore a mask, Dren could sense a look of confusion lay underneath, "What is the matter? Reekcat got your tongue?"
Azrael blushed behind his mask, embarrassed not only because the Twi'lek had noticed his hesitation, but also by the realization of why it had happened… Not just the surprise that she had apparently tracked him down years after their first encounter, but because he had been briefly affected by her exotic beauty… Which in turn was a humbling experience, reminding him that behind all his power, all his accomplishments, he was also a young man of 18 years of age… merely a boy in most cultures.
Snapping out of his reverie, Azrael attempted to regain control of the situation, "I was simply wondering what brought on this death wish on your part?"
"Still so cocky after our last encounter, Jedi? … No, no, my apologies. You said before you were not a Jedi… So should I say Guelim? Or do you prefer Kenzei?"
If she had somehow said Azrael, her head would be on the floor now. That was one secret that must be kept at all cost… And thoughts of which reminded Azrael of one other unsettled matter that he would need to deal with soon.
"And why do you assume we have met before?" Azrael finally replied to Dren, trying to maintain some semblance of control of the situation and knowing how futile the attempt would be…
"Well, let us see now… For starters, there are not that many men walking around in public with an old Clone Trooper mask… especially one stained with a bloody hand print. And even if I had not noticed that, I can tell it is you by the movement of your body. It is very unique."
Fighting back another blush, Azrael replied as grimly as he could, "And you spent all this time tracking me down… for what? If it was to kill me, I have some bad news for you."
Dren gave Azrael a look combining innocence and sultriness, working the renowned Twi'lek charm, and countered, "Kill you? Whatever gave you that idea?"
"That blaster in your hand perhaps."
"Oh, that? Please, I had no doubt you would be fine. I was just testing to see if you are as good as you are rumored to be… What I actually had in mind was to make you an offer."
Continuing to maintain the blade at Dren's throat, Darth Azrael probed her with the Force, looking for any sign of deceit… any untruth in her stated intentions. Finding none, he asked, "An offer for what?"
"For my many services. Scout, information gatherer, protector… all in all, a partner."
"None of which I need… Next."
Her seductive gaze turning to one of contempt, Dren coldly answered, "I see that we can add obstinate and stupid to the list of the words that describe you. Are you not worried about how I was able to track you? You might be good at covering your tracks, but you are not that good. And believe me, your long list of enemies will only continue to grow if you continue down the path you have set yourself on…
What if I really wanted to kill you? Deflecting a core bomb blast is not as easy as a blaster bolt. You are neither invincible or indestructible."
The stinging truth of her words breaking through his shield of self-confidence, Darth Azrael replied, "And you are proposing this because…?"
"I am glad to see that you may not be as close-minded as you appeared… And the reason is that I believe I am a very good judge of character. And you, my dear, are going places. I have been studying you for a while now and know that wherever you are going, whatever you are ultimately planning, big things are going follow. And I want to be in on it when it happens…
That, plus the fact that you owe me."
That last statement being completely unexpected, Azrael had no choice but to express genuine incredulity, "Owe you? And for what, exactly?"
"You killed those I was contracted to protect in Naos III, which in turn has made it quite difficult for me to find continuous work. It now appears to others that I cannot protect my charges."
"Seeing as you attacked me first, I would say you brought that on yourself."
"And thank you for having such deep concern for a damsel in distress."
"Maybe I would if you did not attack me every time you saw me."
"I promise to stop if you give me a good reason not too," Dren added before once more fixing Azrael with a seductive gaze and adding, "So what do you say… Partners?"
Now Azrael realized that the immense, nearly impossible undertaking of bringing about the return of the Sith Empire singlehandedly would be made a bit easier with some help… hence some of the work Kenzei Danlut had been doing… Yet a partner, particularly someone that thought themselves to be on equal footing with him, was not something he was looking for. And prematurely revealing his true identity would make his task exceedingly more difficult.
But this resourceful Twi'lek could definitely have her uses… So he flicked off his lightsaber, and stretched his left hand out to Dren as if to shake hers. He then said, "I think we can come to some mutually beneficial understanding."
Dren continue to eye him coyly as she reached out to grasp his hand while she answered, "Well I am glad to hear you say that."
Darth Azrael tightly gripped her hand as he shook it, then, surprisingly to her, removed his mask so that she could look into his eyes and the deathly seriousness behind them… "Just remember, do not even think about double-crossing me."
His stern words made stronger by Force inflection, Dren Kuu'la actually felt some intimidation, finding it hard to maintain her charming outer expression as she replied, "I would never dream o… Aah… aaaaaaaaahhhh!"
As a stream of force lightning coursed through her body, convulsions cut off Dren's response, as she collapsed unconscious to the ground.
Yes, she would be useful… as long as she remembered her place… and how truly serious Darth Azrael was about his work.
Picking up his unconscious 'partner' and draping her over a shoulder, Azrael headed for his ship and out of Barseg. Once the planet was safely behind him, Azrael remained deep in thought as his passenger recuperated from the effect of his attack in one of the crew quarters on the 'Aureole…
His involuntary physical reactions to her presence… the evidence of him being still too sure of himself and potentially blind to vulnerability… He may have come far, but he still had much to learn. And Dren Ku'ula had taught him that… humbled him… again. Now he just needed to figure exactly what to do with her.
But in the meantime, it was time to return to Lianna. He had been gone a long time, and several things there required his immediate attention… As it would turn out, it was not a moment too soon.
The year 18 ABY was one of many substantial events that would shape the course of galactic history. Imperial forces under the command of Admiral Gilad Pellaeon staged a major offensive against the New Republic, only to be ultimately defeated in the Battle of Anx Minor. This defeat proved to be the final deathblow for the Galactic Empire, now an almost irrelevant shell of its former all-powerful self. The defeat would lead to the Pellaeon-Gavrisom Treaty the following year, which officially ended the over two-decade-long Galactic Civil War.
It was also the year that Lady Valles Santhe died.
Life in Lianna came to a virtual standstill as they mourned the passing of their great matriarch, who had steered their planet through tumultuous times and had it come out stronger than ever. And with the Galactic Civil War finally over, a bigger localized battle appeared to be on the horizon… one for the control of the Santhe Corporation.
No sooner had Lady Santhe's funeral concluded, that the Board of Directors of the Corporation called an emergency succession meeting. Normally, such critical matters were settled sufficiently in advance so as to minimize impact to the continuity of business. Yet Lady Santhe had kept the matter surprisingly private, clearly dictating that the Board as a whole would retain provisional control of the Corporation until the ascension of the new Chief Executive Officer, which would be explained in a sealed holovid she had left behind, only to be unsealed upon her passing. And having never been steered wrong by her before, the Board agreed to her unorthodox wishes, confident her decision would once more be sound.
The primary attendees at the meeting, among many, were the Presidents of the Corporations' two principal subsidiary companies, Philip Santhe, Valles's son, of Santhe/Sienar Techologies (SST), and Limas Chariah of Santhe Security (SS), alongside Kashan Santhe, Philip's son, and Director of Sienar Fleet Systems (SFS)… SST's primary subsidiary… as well as the Special Executive Assistant to the CEO, Guelim Soran... who, those present assumed, was there due to keen interest as to whom his next superior would be... or if he would even retained that position after the announcement.
Little did any of them expect how surprised they would be once the proceedings began…
The first bombshell came moments after the announcement that, as expected, Philip Santhe would be the next Santhe Corporation CEO… when the holographic Valles Santhe added the phrase 'on a temporary basis' shortly thereafter. The second, as the assembled group sat in stunned silence, was the description of the fluid succession plan she had instituted, which called for Limas Chariah to replace Philip after three and a half years, before he in turn was supplanted in three and a half years by the man who would continue forward in the role on a permanent basis… her great-grandson-in-law, Guelim Soran.
And to ensure her wishes went as intended, holo-Valles informed them that restrictions had been placed on Philip's and Limas's access to the massive Santhe family fortune inheritance and Corporation stock holdings respectively.
The assembled group bursting into an almost incoherent cacophony of shouting and cursing, Guelim discreetly slid out of the room, a subtle smile on his face. Valles's recording was not a huge surprise, but the expedited timeframe for the change of power was. The old lady had done better by him that he had hoped. Guelim had no doubt that the ruling would be challenged, but he would be ready for it, as he was the only one in that room that knew in advance it was coming.
It would not be easy, but nothing worth winning was… The next seed had been planted.
And as he took the turbolift down to the ground floor, Azrael turned his attention to the other delicate situation he needed to address today… and one he feared would be far more difficult. That of the growing strife in his own home.
Guelim Soran had been traveling across the Allied Tion sector almost consistently for over a year now, and the demands of a missing fiancée had worn heavily on Karala. He had provided far beyond the privileged life she led as a well-off Santhe, her standing in the competitive Liann social ladder rising as fast Guelim's star within the Corporation. But it was that same commitment to his work that had made Karala begin to feel neglected… as if she came second to the Corporation… and that was something she did not care for at all.
Guelim sought out Karala after arriving at their mansion, and did not need the Force to allow him to sense it would be a tense reunion. Her reaction to his impeding advancement was merely a cold 'I guess you will be spending even more time away then' response. And every reply was punctuated by her use of the name Azrael, not Guelim, as they had agreed to do in unsecure places many years ago, further adding to his growing trepidation.
But it was when she said, "I wonder if Ga'ma would have done all she did for you if she knew the truth about you… About whom you really are… About your power. I doubt it," that Azrael fully realized how dire the situation had become.
Karala was the only person that knew his secrets… that knew about Azrael… that knew about his affinity with the Force. She did not know everything… no one did… But with sufficient effort, someone that became aware of what she knew might figure it out…
Karala's knowledge put the secret of Darth Azrael in peril… she was the weak link in the chain.
A vision came at that moment to Darth Azrael… no doubt driven by the Force. In it, he saw a lifeless body sprawled on the ground… A large group of uniformed individuals standing around him… They almost looked like… Were they Santhe Security troopers? … The body heavily charred… blaster bolt marks evident… But as the vision appeared to draw closer, something became even more evident… A T-visor mask… and a bloody handprint on it.
A vision of the future… Darth Azrael's future… One that he would not allow to happen… And with that flash of insight, his path became crystal clear…
"How about you come with me?" Azrael proposed, but both through his knowledge of his fiancée, as well as a little Force insight, he knew what the reply would be, "I need to travel to the Tion Hegemony soon, and from there to Chandaar. We could make up for lost time… I hear say that, even with the Empire gone, it is still quite striking."
"So I have heard… but the Hegemony?" Karala countered as expected, turning her nose at the prospect of visiting the once proud system, now of greatly diminished importance, "That region could not be any drearier. How about you pick me up on the way to Chandaar instead… Azrael?"
Azrael suppressed a sigh. Karala had answered as he expected in every way… even as deep down he hoped she would not… and in doing so, sealed her fate. So putting his best smile forward, he replied, "Of course. It would not be that much out of the way… I will start preparations now so I can be back as soon as possible."
And with that, he turned to leave while hearing the voice behind him say, "I will find some way to try and stave off the loneliness until then… And bring me back something nice… Azrael."
"That I will, Kara'."
Chapter 5
Bordering both the Allied Tion Sector and the Cronese Mandate, the Tion Hegemony… or more precisely the Ancient & Honorable Union of the Tion Hegemony, as it was formally called… was the most expansive of the Tion Cluster sectors, yet ironically, the least populated. Millennia ago, it had been the heart of this region of the galaxy, predating even the 'old' Galactic Republic… But, with those glory days long gone by, it had deteriorated into a mere shadow of its former glorious self, becoming mostly an adopted home to out-of-work smugglers, swindlers, and con artists who were looking to find a place to turn their fortunes around.
Yet even though the sector as a whole struggled, certain areas still maintained a level of usefulness, and that was where Guelim Soran first headed… starting with the capital planet of Tion. There he met with the nobles of the House of Tion, the family that for all intents and purposes controlled the Tion Hegemony.
Guelim arrived at Tion under the banner of this newest role, as Director of the newly formed Santhe / Sienar Transportation (SSiT), following the Corporation's reorganization that came with the CEO succession proclamation. Sienar Ships, of which Guelim had been its GM, was removed from under SFS's… much to the chagrin of Kashan Santhe, who had greatly looked forward to making his underling's life miserable after the announcement… and merged with the much larger Santhe Passenger and Freight (SPF), following the impressive gains in holdings and acquisitions… not to forget about influence… that Guelim had obtained for SiS in his relatively short time on the post.
SPF, in turn a subsidiary of SST, was a large transportation corporation, which was not only the dominant passenger and freight services provider in the Tion Cluster, but also within the Galactic Republic (and Empire previously), controlling over 10% of the galaxy's market share. SiS meanwhile had begun to carve an expanding piece out of the personal and civilian ship manufacturing market, with increasing presence in the heavy-duty industrial sector, so a merger of the two seemed natural. And who better to lead the new SSiT than the future Corporation CEO.
And it was on this topic that Guelim initially met with the nobles about. He showed them the wisdom of granting controlling interest of the government-run mega-corporation Tion Industries… which produced a large array of corporate and civilian ships and systems… to SSiT, turning it into the Liann company's Sector Branch headquarters… What better way for the Hegemony to begin to shake free of the stupor that had for so long held in place than by partnering with the Cluster's rising political and economical power…
And with that partnership in place…bringing the most influential families in the two sectors in a solid and beneficial business alliance… would it not now be natural if the two Tion sectors, Allied and Hegemony, were to also seek some sort of unity… under their collective guidance. The ties of old once more renewed. How better to return the Hegemony… and with them, the entire Tionese people… to their former glory?
The nobles found this to be an appealing vision. For too long had they been relegated to the background of galactic affairs… Yes, yes, it should be done… Guelim stated that the Allied Tion government would be certainly be amenable to purse it, knowledge obtained through a certain, personal, contact at the Ambassadorial Office in Lianna… Even Desevro, the ancient capital, was rumored to be in favor of unity once more, the Thirty Seven Families having become surprisingly inclusive in dealings with other systems as of late…
They sealed it all with a drink of a rare vintage of Abrax cognac, dating back to the days of the 'old' Galactic Republic… How had Guelim even obtained such a treat? … In any case, there would be, they vowed, a new Greater Tion Sector, even more glorious than before … and very soon indeed.
And during all those discussions, an additional, insignificant business move, the transfer of production of Tion Industries' Guardian-class patrol ship… a widely-used combat airspeeder… to SST's struggling Sienar Army Systems (SAS) division, went completely unnoticed.
With the major negotiations and summits concluded after several weeks, Guelim set out to visit other key spots in the Hegemony. First, he went to Brigia and visited the local branch of the University of Rudrig, the only university in the 'Hegemony. Departing after making a substantial financial donation to the newly agreed upon Valles Santhe Graduate School of Business, Guelim then travelled to the planet of Eredenn Prime. It was there that he visited a former 'old' Galactic Republic weapons testing facility. The site had been dormant for over 40 years, since a surprise Empire raid in 22 BBY… So of course the local government did not mind SAS taking over the costly maintenance of the decrepit relic… What good would it do them anyway?
But this leg of the trip to the Tion Hegemony was just secondary. Darth Azrael was just biding his time… slowly traversing the sector towards his primary goal… To what he had sensed after arriving in Tion… a planet that resonated in the Dark Side…
Raxus Prime…
Once a beautiful planet and hub of technology, now covered in toxic debris and poisonous waste, Raxus Prime had been a strong focal point for the Dark Force of the Force over the last few decades… Ironically, even the Corporation shared ties with the planet, as SFS had long maintained a vast facility there, simply known as Sienar Refinery, during the times of the 'old' Galactic Republic. Widely considered the birthplace of the Confederacy of Independent Systems, their leader, Count Dooku… aka Darth Tyrannus, the apprentice of Darth Sidious… used the planet as his personal headquarters from 24 BBY until 22 BBY. During this time period, Dooku located a source of dark power, long buried under the rubble of the planet, the Force Harvester. Created by the Dark Lord of the Sith Exar Kun over 4,000 years ago to power the superweapon known then as the Dark Reaper, the Harvester drained the life force from all beings it grasped, as well as being able to drain the Force in finite amounts. Dooku would end up attempting to use it on young Jedi Anakin Skywalker… who would one day become both his successor, Darth Vader, as Sidious's apprentice as well as his and his Master's executioner… but Skywalker managed to escape and destroy the Harvester in the process.
Several years later, Vader's would send his own 'secret' apprentice, Galen Marek, to Raxus Prime in order to hunt down and kill Jedi Knight Kazdan Paratus… who had escaped Sidious's infamous Order 66, which had all but wiped out the Jedi. Kazdan had gone insane and into exile there, building a robotic 'Jedi Council' among the ruins and wreckage there, finally meeting his end at Galen's hands.
Then on the year 2 BBY, Galen would find himself in Raxus Prime yet again. By then, Emperor Palpatine… aka Darth Sidious… had turned the planet into a Star Destroyer factory in support of the war effort against the Rebellion. Galen would go on to destroy the construction facility, as well as the sentient planetary core, which unbeknownst to them all, was a planet-wide robotic intelligence. This being, upon learning about the galaxy beyond its boundaries and the Emperor's plans for it, decided to set upon a mission of galactic conquest itself.
But the most drastic event of all… the one that called out to Darth Azrael the most… had been when Galen, under siege on the planet's surface by an incoming Star Destroyer, had reached out with everything his extensive Force powers brought to bear, and dragged the immense battle ship from the sky and crashed it into the ground.
Long indoctrinated by Darth Vader, Galen had tapped into his hate, his fear, his anger… remembering the deaths of his family, his hate for the Emperor… fueling his strength in the Dark Side. He manipulated the massive ship like it was a mere toy, his brutal attack killing scores of personnel inside the ship as well as the support facility on the surface, leaving a massive dark, permanent imprint on the planet's already dark surface.
Darth Azrael made landfall, then found his way across the grim and toxic landscape to where the felled behemoth still laid, its decaying shell showing the signs of the inescapable scavenging the planet's many transplanted residents… Jawas and Rodians among others… had done to it. Without much of a specific plan or path in mind… simply heading to what felt right… hr began a treacherous climb up the outer shell of the ship, all the way up to the top of the bridge tower.
From there, Darth Azrael could see for miles around and take in the morbid landscape… defunct foundries, construction facilities, junk formations, even the makeshift Jedi Temple built by Kazdan Paratus. And once upon the highest point of the structure, he sat, closed his eyes, and opened himself up to the Force… to the Dark Side, which permeated so strongly around him.
Azrael could sense the myriad of life all around, masked to the naked eye by the inhospitality of the planet. Indeed, many life forms populated Raxus Prime, but they were inconsequential. So he continued to probe deeper, seeking out the touch of the Dark Side left behind. Soon… was it soon or had he been there much longer? He could no longer tell for certain… Darth Azrael felt as if he… or at least his consciousness… was traversing through the boundaries of time. He could see blurry images, yet still distinct in their uniqueness…
There was Galen Marek, his fear turning to blinding anger as he lashed out against the Star Destroyer Azrael now sat on, determined not to die that day, his destiny, to bring down the Empire, not yet fulfilled … And Darth Tyrannus, his visions of destruction and domination of the Republic amplified as he uncovered the hidden 'Harvester… Following that trail, he saw fallen Jedi, later Sith Lord, Ulic Qel-Droma, who had unleashed the Harvester on Raxus Prime thousands of years ago, killing scores during the Great Sith War, their screams of agony still reverberating in the core of the planet… and Qel-Droma, both disgusted by his act… and enthralled by it… the sheer power he had at his command, to shape the destiny of the galaxy itself.
Darth Azrael saw all of this… felt all of this… through the Force… through the Dark Side. He soaked the swell of old emotions… how they strengthened his power… became intoxicated by it… He felt a level of kinship with those Sith of the past that walked those very lands… if not in their purpose, then in their unyielding determination to see them accomplished… Azrael could still sense in their mark, how their emotions, their passion, in turn fueled the Dark Side… made it stronger… made them stronger.
Making this revelation, Darth Azrael began to draw out, returning to the here and now, feeling energized… as if his sojourn had increased his Force levels… And indeed it had so. Coming to Raxus Prime, he had now seen the potential "Dark Side" planets… These locations served as vessels… conduits… to the Dark Side of the Force, helping to provide insight and fuel to those who dealt in the Force. He made the decision then that he must travel to other planets like this… No like this, but even stronger in the Dark Side… tap into that vast reservoir of energy, continue to learn of great Sith of times gone by… and in the process, continue to strength his own power… pushing forward his vision of the Sith.
But as he now began to become once more aware of the present, Darth Azrael could tell everything was not as it had been when he first closed his eyes. From around him, he sensed danger… approaching danger. And he did not need the Force to tell him from where. The group of approaching beings, surrounding the base of the sunken ship while others climbed up its sides, with their distinctive pale yellow skin, bony spur protrusions in their skulls and dark, red hair easily identified them as Zygerrians… of the Guild of Zygerrian Slavers.
The Guild was one of the larger slaver groups in the Outer Rim, was based on the world of Zygerria, and was widely known for a despicable act during the Clone Wars, when they enslaved and attempted to sell off the entire Togruta species population of the planet of Kiros. And as luck would have it… or was it the Force? … Azrael had also come across them before. The Guild specialized in enslaving and trading of Twi'leks. And a place of where they could be easily obtained, with minor interference… if not outright assistance… from the local government was on a planet near the Twi'lek homeworld of Ryloth… the planet of Roon.
The Zygerrians had provided former Imperial Admiral Terrinald Screed with Twi'lek slave girls to satisfy his various fantasies, and had been greatly assisted… for a nice profit of course… on securing them by a close partner of Screed… Governor Koong of Roon, and later on by his replacement… Governor Gaff.
Alandres recalled seeing these slavers around Nime from time to time, during his early exploring days, as he slowly grew accustomed to his newfound powers. And even with his limited perception, he had quickly identified them as 'bad.' And now, the Force had brought them here to him.
The Guild must have been on Raxus Prime likely on a scavenging mission to either supplement their slave trade or simply for needed resources. It is unlikely that they would have gone there to look for potential victims, as few, if any, of Raxus Prime's inhabitants would have been suitable. But no doubt they had surely come across the docked 'Aureole by now… And its young and healthy human owner… no doubt a well-off individual as well if his ship was any sort of gauge… sitting, by himself, not too far away. This might not have been the reason they were here, but they were not the kind to pass up on easy pickings either.
Well, for this once they had picked the wrong time, the wrong place and, most definitely, the wrong victim. And it was not ego or bravado Azrael exuded this time. It was determination. The thought of anyone collaborating with that dead piece of Kobok filth Gaff… the murder of his father, of his family… burned at the permanent wound his family's death had etched in his heart.
And so Darth Azrael rose to meet his would-be enslavers.
Three Zygerrians were ascending along the ship towards him, one straight ahead, the other two circling around to flank, while three others maintained guard at the base, to cut off any escape… as if escape was even on the Sith's mind. Like the last Force user that made a stand here, Darth Azrael would not die today.
He stood and turned towards the approaching trio… and saw them recoil at the sight of the igniting red blade of light.
After a brief moment in which they halted their advance, the lead Zygerrian, an older, one-eyed male called Onyx… who had once encountered and done battle with Jedis Obi Wan Kenobi and future Sith Lord Anakin Skywalker… flashed a predatory snarl and said, "I hate Jedi."
Darth Azrael began to slowly descend towards them… It was finally at this point that they saw the visage under the dark hood… the blood stained mask… the bloody handprint… and evenly replied, "I am no Jedi… and you will hate me even more."
They barely had time to scream before he was on them…
Chapter 6
The Cronese Mandate was the densest of the three Tion Cluster sectors, containing well over 400 inhabited worlds. It was also, in its current configuration, the youngest, having been 'reorganized' by the Galactic Empire out of what used to encompass the former Cronese Sweeps and having the sector capital moved to the planet Chandaar, where it remained to this day.
The Human inhabitants of the Mandate were an evolutionary branch known as the Cronese, and for long had maintained a level of enmity against the Tionese, the human descendants in the other Tion Cluster sectors. So it was with a level of apprehension that Robeir XXIII, head of the House of Cron and ruler of the Mandate, received the delegation from the Allied Tion Sector.
The Mandate had an independent defense fleet, but which had been primarily maintained by Imperial support. But with the Empire drawn into a prolonged civil war, which in turn left it in shambles, their ships had begun to deteriorate at a rapid rate. And having so long been dependant on the Empire for resources, the Mandate now found themselves not fully equipped to self-maintain their defense fleet.
And that was where the Allied Tion, or more specifically, their envoys came into play.
The delegation was led by Guelim Soran, Director of Santhe / Sienar Transportation, his fiancée Karala Santhe, Ambassadorial Delegate of the Allied Tion government, and Kashan Santhe, Director of Sienar Fleet Systems, the latter two being the great-granddaughter and grandson of Robeir's bitter rival… the late Valles Santhe.
Robeir and Valles had feuded for decades, intensified during the rise of the Empire, as the two heads of state battled to curry favor with the new galactic power, looking to obtain for their sectors and their planets, a better seat at the table, a bigger slice of the pie.
In the end, it had been Valles, Lianna and the Allied Tion that had come out on top. It was them that received all the lucrative contracts with the Empire and had fueled its war machine, reaping all the benefits that came along from that partnership... including the ability to mostly govern themselves independently. The Mandate, in turn, had fallen into a controllership of the Empire, limiting their sovereignty, their primary financial source being trade of the many valuable minerals and natural resources that could be mined from the hundreds of uninhabited systems within their borders.
But now the Allied Tion, through the Santhe Corporation subsidiaries, which in essence meant the Santhe family, had extended an olive branch. One which Robeir XXIII was not too proud to accept… at least until the seething thirst for retribution at the injustices done to him and the House of Cron could be rectified, of course.
Guelim and Karala were set up in a palatial suite on the top floor of the Jurbe Tower, the tallest building in Chandaar, as well as in the Mandate, as Robeir's guests of honor. During the day, Guelim engrossed himself deeply in negotiations with the Cronese Secretary of Defense, while Karala explored the 'Jewel of Tion', as Chandaar was also known as. She attended in her official capacity some of the pompous events the first day, celebrating the magnanimous occasion, but after that she did not have many duties to attend to. And in the evenings, as promised, Guelim went out of his way to show her a great time among the myriad of exotic entertainment options that Chandaar had to offer. All in all, everything did not appear to possibly have gone any better.
Which made what happened next so shocking… to most, at least…
A massive explosion rocked the capital city during the evening rush on the last day of the summit. As stunned citizens turned towards the deafening sound, their curiosity turned to horror as they saw the location of the blast…
The upper most portion of the Jurbe Tower was engulfed in flames and smoke, the damage done by the explosion evident for all to see. A pair of fireships rapidly approached the inferno and their spray of water and fire retardants put out the flames after a substantial effort. But by then, the damage had already been done…
The blast had done millions of credits in damage to the tower and had taken the lives of dozens of innocent citizens… including that of Karala Santhe. The Santhe heiress had been in her suite awaiting Guelim's arrival when the explosion occurred.
Her grief-stricken fiancée had withdrawn to the privacy of his ship, searching for solitude to mourn his loss, as Robeir vowed a prompt investigation into the matter. Yet it was not until Guelim's security detail, composed of members of Santhe Security (SS), most of which had spent time with him at Dennaskar's training facility, had volunteered their help… so much did they feel for the loss suffered by one they saw as their comrade… that the search unearthed the damning evidence…
A powerful core bomb had caused the devastation, traces of its key components, accellerite, and magnopium ferrocongregate, identified among the wreckage. All the devastation, all the deaths… Karala's death… had not been accidental. It had been murder!
Outrage spread across Chandaar and beyond. Lianna, upon learning of the heinous death of the youngest member of their ruling family, demanded swift action, coupled with the cries for justice from the Cronese population for their own lost loved ones. To which Robeir of course firmly agreed to, even requesting that the SS guards assist in the investigation, so resourceful had they been in finding the remains of the bomb.
And all throughout, Guelim Soran remained a picture of strength, putting his suffering aside… a similar situation would have broken many other men… doing everything he could to provide whatever assistance, whatever resources were needed to find the murderers, the terrorists, that had brought this plague upon the two Houses… Justice had to be done for Karala, for the Santhe family, and for the families of all the Cronese victims.
It was not long until their exhaustive efforts uncovered the next bit of evidence. For found buried among the wreckage was a key piece… scant remains was more like it… of one of the bomb's mechanical components… the detonation switch. And as the find was made once more by SS personnel… it was almost as if they were receiving supernatural direction… they were allowed to perform the initial evaluation on it. A team from Sienar Intelligence Systems (SIS)… a subsidiary of Santhe / Sienar Technologies (SST)… was dispatched from Lianna bringing the most advanced technical instruments at their disposal… so desperate was Philip Santhe to find the killer of his only granddaughter that he was sparing no expense brining the full might of the Corporation to bear…
And their efforts soon bore fruit. A microanalysis revealed clues to the bomber's identity, identifying carbon matter molecules fused to the scrapped detonator. A cross-reference with the extensive citizen DNA archives… secretly instituted by the Empire operatives in the area… would help in generating a list of suspects. And inspection of the material itself was able to determine the exact elemental composition of the detonator. Utilizing the right business contacts… something the Corporation had plenty off… the manufacturer could in turn be traced.
And indeed, the investigative team accomplished all that very quickly. But the results, and the implications, were shocking…
The DNA sequencing results were crystal clear… The molecules belonged to a Cronese human… and cross-referencing government records tied it conclusively to a direct member of the House of Cron… the Mandate's ruling family! And the material composition of the detonator was revealed to be from a proprietary alloy belonging to Tarascii Explosives… And it did not take any in-depth level of detective work to pinpoint a major investor in that company… the House of Cron.
Bits and pieces then began to publicly surface… an investigation of this magnitude could hardly be kept secret indefinitely… But before Robeir's crisis management team could begin to put the proper spin on the information, perhaps the most damning piece of the puzzle emerged, plastered all over the Holonet… An obviously recent vid of the Cronese Mandate head of state, Robeir XXIII… nobody knew how that had been possible, as no recording equipment was installed in the palace… belittling the memory of the venerable Valles Santhe, commenting on how "undesirably long" it had taken her to die, how he did not relish now having to entertain the "latest Santhe brat"… and how, finally, the "Santhe line would die with her"…
And when all these facts were put together, there could only be one conclusion… The House of Cron, and in turn the Cronese Mandate, had murdered Karala Santhe. And by that act, had essentially declared war on Lianna… and, indirectly, the Allied Tion Sector.
The firestorm that descended on Chandaar and the Mandate following these revelations was swift and severe. Guelim Soran and Kashan Santhe immediately withdrew the Lianna delegation from the planet and retreated from Mandate space. But they did not return to Liana. They positioned their ships at the boundary between Allied Tion and Cronese Mandate territories and, upon arrival of the grieving Philip Santhe, issued a joint declaration severing all Corporation business and financial ties with the 'murders of their fiancée… granddaughter… niece' … the Santhe men and their rival putting aside their previous differences in the face of tragedy… and stating that it would remain so until the perpetrators of the atrocious act were turned over to face justice.
Guelim… in a powerful public statement… went as far as urging Robeir XXIII to turn himself and those responsible in for their own safety, as he vowed he would kill him for taking his beloved Kara' from him... perfectly understandable, as it was something that most in Lianna felt they would be inclined to if they were in his place.
The extended Santhe clan was soon joined by the Allied Tion Sector Governor, not only out of respect for the family… that indirectly ruled the sector… but because, after all, Karala Santhe had been a government employee. And he stated how the Allied Tion was suspending all diplomatic ties with the Mandate. This declaration was echoed by all the Allied Tion worlds, one after the other… Lorrad, Abraxin, Jaminere, Amarin and more, coming in support of their friend, their partner, their benefactor… recalling their citizens and halting all commerce with their barbarian neighbors until the right thing was done.
But that was not all. A delegation from the Tion Hegemony joined Guelim, the Santhes and the Sector Governor in an act of solidarity with their neighbors… their blood brothers… united once more. Let this be the day in which they once more joined together… it was obvious that menaces were ever-present… and become stronger as a whole, the Tionese people.
And on that day on the year 19 ABY, under a cloud of grief and sadness, the Greater Tion Sector was officially born.
And although the finer details would need to be straightened out before long, a preliminary agreement was reached on how the new Sector would be governed. A ruling Council would be formed, composed of both Sector Governors and… Philip Santhe…. Yes, Philip Santhe, someone whose extensive business experience, alongside the similarly extensive list of Santhe family political contacts, would be invaluable in guiding the new, young Sector… How was it that the idea had not come to them sooner? …
In all likelihood, Philip would have to give resign as CEO of the Santhe Corporation, the duties of running a sector composed of hundreds of planets populated by billions of beings would require his undivided attention. But that would be a small price to pay for such a significant role of magnanimous proportions. That would also mean that Limas Chariah, the Director of SS, would ascend to Corporation CEO earlier than planned. And of course, his term limit would need to be discussed… And would that mean that Guelim Soran would rise sooner as well? … Surely all that could be resolved later, as more pressing matters still remained…
And during all this time, Robeir XXIII and the House of Cron vehemently denied the accusations levied against them and their family. He admitted to the words he was heard speaking on the vid but made it clear that they had obviously been taken out of context. Yes, Valles and he did not see eye to eye on many things, but that was no state secret. And his comments on Karala were simply regarding preservation of the family line through male heirs… A poor choice of words, a simple misunderstanding.
He tried to garner sympathy for himself as well, calling the unauthorized vid a gross invasion of personal privacy. But to those listening he only came as self-centered, putting his own apparent hurt feelings above the death of a young woman with her whole life ahead of her, and her grieving family.
Robeir also attempted to poke holes into the 'so-called evidence' against him and his House, repeatedly calling the allegations baseless and purely 'circumstantial', with no direct link to him or the planet nobility. "I allowed them full access to everything, never once hindering their investigation," he said, "Why would I have done so if I or anyone in my family had any part in this murderous act?" Yet offering no alternate explanations, he did not win over many converts, even among his own people.
Finally, when all his cries seemed to be falling on deaf ears, with all his enemies closing in around him, Robeir XXIII decided to once and for all go on the offensive. Broadcasting live to the entire sector, to all the hundreds of worlds under his rule, he admonished the "Liann warmongers" who had not only fabricated the involvement of the honorable House of Cron in the "odious acts that had been brought upon Chandaar", but that had "wantonly murdered hundreds of our citizens."
This defiant attitude did resonate with many… mostly to those not on Chandaar and who had not witnessed the destruction first hand… the growing show of support emboldening the embattled leader. Yet at home, the situation was not as amiable. Local citizens had seen too much, heard too much, and wondered how their head of state could willfully murder his own citizens just to satisfy his lust for revenge and power.
Nevertheless, Robeir would not be swayed. This offense would not be ignored. To do so would mean abdicating his throne, to admit the culpability of the House of Cron, to place the Cronese Mandate at the mercy and whim of the Tion…
And he would not let that happen. So with a loud declaration of…
"If its war they want, it is war they will get!"
…the conflict that would become known as the Tion – Cronese War began.
And from a distance, Darth Azrael took it all in. The chaos he had wrought… chaos, yet delicately orchestrated… by his previous actions, a weave created over years of effort, achieving his current goal in a series of masterful strokes. It had been unfortunate that Karala had to die… he did feel sadness for her, even if not as much as Guelim Soran appeared to… But the secret… his secret… of the Sith had to be maintained at all costs. And still, her death had not been in vain, it having been the catalyst for the events that now unfolded before him.
"It was all devilishly clever," a female voice coming from behind him suddenly cut in to his thoughts, almost as if reading them, "Very drastic as well, Kenzei. Then again, it would be rare for something truly historic not to be."
Azrael took in Dren Kuu'la's words and nodded in agreement, his mind though focusing on the name she had used. Dren had taken to calling him Kenzei… by no urging on his part… instead of Guelim, and that suited him just fine. It showed a sign of her more attracted to his darker persona… which was just what he needed in an associate.
Yet, she still did not know of the darkest persona, Darth Azrael. It was not time for that revelation yet though. Azrael had not even decided if he would reveal it or not… But perhaps he would… one day. Dren indeed showed a lot of potential…
"You were flawless through it all," he said to her, breaking the prolonged silence, "Had I not known you were there, I would have been hard pressed to sense you."
"That is but one of my many talents… I am glad you recognize it."
"Indeed I do. It was very impressive, especially considering the amount of explosives you were carrying."
"That just made it more of a challenge… just as I prefer it. I also never properly thanked you for taking care of those Zygerrians. Those despicable slavers have ruined the lives of countless Twi'leks. I am glad at least a small group of them finally got what they deserved."
"No thanks are necessary… I was fighting for my own freedom as well, remember?"
"I do not believe destroying their ship and freeing their captives afterwards were acts of self-defense. And I will make sure to properly express the full extent of my gratitude … in due time."
"If you insist…"
Chapter 7
The year 20 ABY was an unusually calm one for the Galactic Republic, as no major conflicts or events obscured its landscape. The same was true for the Jedi Order, where the most significant matter was more of a personal one as their leader, Jedi Master Luke Skywalker, married the one-time Imperial assassin whom the reborn Emperor Palpatine… Darth Sidious… had sent out to kill him with his last command, Mara Jade.
But on the Outer Rim territories, where it was often said that the Republic did not exist, matters were not nearly as calm. And of note, if only to those involved, was the war raging near the far end of one of the galaxy's spiral arms… out in the Tion Cluster… the Tion – Cronese War.
As expected, the opening volleys would be massive shows of force, as each side wanted to assert early dominance and set the tone for the conflict. The Cronese pressed forward with their superior numbers, planning on to overwhelm their rivals with the shear immensity of the resources they could bring to bear. Robeir XXIII sent out a Royal Order to all Mandate worlds, conscripting all planetary defense ships and their crews as support vessels for the Sector Defense Fleet, under the direct control of his Minister of Defense, as well as mobilizing all able-bodied citizens of fighting age… The Cronese would not fall because of a lack of manpowe!
The Tion forces though would respond and rely on their superior technology, provided by the Santhe Corporation and all its extensive resources. Having for one been the designers and manufacturers of the celebrated Twin Ion Engine (TIE) series of starfighters, which had served as the backbone of the Imperial Navy for decades, the new Greater Tion tapped into numerous Santhe-owned shipyards and responded with a state-of-the-art combat fleet that, although not nearly as numerous as the Cronese one, would be the envy of even the Galactic Republic.
Anticipating that for this very reason the Cronese would first seek to strike at Lianna, and the true seat of power, commerce and technology, Tion forces assembled in nearby Cadinth… the wealthy port world would surely suffer economically if turned into a war front. But ever since the Oligarch's surprising suicide, the planet had been in a complete state of flux and more amenable to the wishes of the Ruling Council… from where they would be able to intercept any Cronese incursion before it had a chance to reach its final target.
The first major engagement happened in Mandate space, as the Tion fleet out of Cadinth intercepted and engaged the Cronese advance forces. The Cronese fleet was led by a 20 Dreadnaught-class heavy cruisers, supported by 10 Mark I assault frigates… more than enough for a wide-scale planetary occupation or drawn out space combat… More than enough to squash Lianna beneath their fist. Yet before they were even out of their own space, the helmsman on the fleet's flagship… christened Xer VII in honor of the ancestral founder of the House of Cron, the irony that he was of Tionese descent escaping them… reported to Admiral Mayato, who was in command of the operation, about the multitude of approaching contacts that had suddenly appeared and were headed their way.
Looking at the console, the Admiral could not help but think the collection of dots reminded him of a swarm of nanja flies. And to his dismay, he could not shake the knowledge of how that particular insect fed on carrion… and how that felt like an extremely bad omen even as the first, impossibly fast attack slammed into his flagship almost before he had a chance to truly register what was happening.
After departing Cadinth, the Tion fleet had been lying in wait nearby within one of the many uninhabited worlds that were part of the Cronese Mandate, using that particular system's massive red star to mask their presence. They had been tracking the progress of the Cronese fleet for quite some time, utilizing a TIE Lone Scout-A-2 ship… freshly out of a Sienar Fleet Systems (SFS) shipyard… and its powerful deep scan sensor array to monitor the relatively slow moving convoy, its own sleek hyperdrive keeping it just ahead of the enemy's sensors.
Now with the enemy fleet now almost within visual range, and a detailed assessment of their strength provided and analyzed, the Tion fleet sprung into action. The Cronese might have had the edge in raw power and numbers, but the Tionese had it in technology.
Yet asides from that, there was one other thing the Cronese were not counting on... and that not even the Tion knew about.
Somewhere within the lower levels of the Tion flagship… a brand new SFS-made Vindicator-class heavy cruiser renamed the Karala Santhe… Darth Azrael sat in deep meditation.
His master, Darth Revan, had told him about a Jedi from his time, Bastila Shan… the feeling of Revan's voice made Azrael think there was more to the story that his Master was revealing… who was skilled in the Force technique of Battle Meditation.
This ability was said to boost the battle prowess of the user's allies, both by increasing their morale as well as coordinating the actions of the allied combatants for maximum efficiency. Darth Revan had also told him how Dark Lords of the Sith of old built meditation chambers in their ships, where they would seal themselves in during battle and direct their forces from within….
And if some where to presently look inside Guelim Soran's cabin, an association to such a Sith meditation chamber would quickly be made.
At the onset of the war, Guelim had not only volunteered for active duty, but also pleaded to be sent to the front line… to be at hand for the first assault against the Cronese murderers. His honor was at stake as well, and it demanded action… Hesitantly, the Greater Tion Ruling Council had agreed to his request, noting how Guelim had been through, and excelled, at the same combat training that the vaunted Santhe Security troopers underwent, certain that he would prove to be an asset rather than a hindrance.
Still, they decided he would be placed on the flagship. Right in the heart of the battle, but in the relatively safest place possible… Hopefully he would not be too upset with them once he realized how uninvolved in the battle he would likely be…
Of course, no connection could have possibly been made when the fleet emerged from behind the star, and the flagship's commander, Admiral Barna, began to give orders to engage… almost unwittingly so…
Darth Azrael had delved into the Tascollan holocron, querying Bavik Vannor, whose essence served as one of the three gatekeeper for the artifact, on everything he had learned about battle meditation. The fallen Jedi had responded with every bit of information he had collected over his lifetime of study, yet it was mostly circumstantial as he had never witnessed the technique in action nor practiced it himself.
So equipped with only a basic working knowledge of the powerful technique, with his very life and those of thousands of others dependant on it, Darth Azrael opened himself fully to the Force, reaching out to the incoming Cronese forces, taking stock of every ship, every crewmember, every officer… getting impressions of their thoughts, their intentions, their feelings… The flow was almost overwhelming… and then channeling what he saw, what he felt, towards Admiral Barna in the Karala Santhe's command deck.
Azrael, since becoming conscious of his Force sensitivity, had been especially talented at channeling feelings towards his selected targets. And now, as at least a general, if not detailed, image of the Cronese battle plans formed in his head… where their major strengths and key weakness lay, their planned initial response upon engagement… he flowed feelings of confidence and assurance towards the Tion commander along with the outline of their enemies the Force had allowed him to glimpse…
His lack of experience, for now, limited the visualization and the direct impact he could have on the Cronese. But it should still be sufficient to give the Tion fleet a distinct edge… to respond before the others acted, to attack before the others were prepared, to anticipate before the thoughts had even registered in their heads…
Watching the display on the main viewscreen showing the pattern of the Cronese fleet was advancing on, feeling as if he knew how they were going to react, Admiral Barna moved his fleet to engage…
Spearheaded by ten Vindicator-class heavy cruisers, which were a close equivalent to the Cronese Dreadnaughts in terms of conventional firepower, the Tionese opened up with a flurry of one of the unique weapon they had at their disposal and that would capitalize on the known shortcomings of the enemy ships… each of their ship's 20 ion cannons. This weaponry fired highly ionized particles that seriously interfered with electronics and computer systems, causing them to malfunction, and even shut down outright, as well as weaken and bring down enemy shields.
And although quite advanced at the time of their initial introduction, the Dreadnaughts were known to be plagued by computer failures, alongside shielding capability not as resilient as latter capital ship models… All of which was of course well known to high ranking members the most prominent starship manufacturing company in the Sector.
Slamming into lead Dreadnaughts' command decks, conveniently placed, to the Tion at least, on the forward end of the ships, the ion cannons blasted the incoming vessels mere instants before their crews were able to react… and even seemed to be firing towards the direction some of the trailing ships in the convoy were dispersing to… before they made a move to…
The first lob severely crippled two ships, including the Xer VIII, leaving them almost dead in space just seconds into the conflict, while inflicting significant damage to the electronics on several of the others. A group of five Marauder-class corvettes… yet another SFS product… then swept out from behind the star and pounced on the weakened Dreadnoughts with their turbolasers and diamond-boron missiles, while the Vindicators continued to pound the slowly reacting Cronese capital ships with a combination of both ion and laser cannons, even as their enemies began bringing their more powerful weapons to bear on them along with supporting fire from their own numerous assault frigates.
But a simple back and forth slugfest, and direct exchange of fire was not what the Tion had in mind. Even with the Cronese caught off guard, that was an engagement they could not win. From his meditation chamber, Darth Azrael sensed the confusion and fear from the Cronese Admiral as his flagship was all but out of the fight before even firing a single shot. Azrael channeled this fear and, pushing through the boundaries of his Force abilities, began to spread it to the other Cronese… His mind able to touch across the battlefield, amplifying their own growing anxiety, while at the same time gaining self-assurance from his enemies dread and transferring to the crew of the Karala Santhe all around him…
Sensing Admiral Barna emboldened, Azrael flashed a single, profound thought… kill the head, the serpent dies… and how to go about it…
An instant later, a command was issued and, from a pair of cruisers that had been moving to flank the Cronese fleets, a pair of full TIE-fighter squadrons emerged from each and converged on the crippled Xer VIII. Ultra-swift TIE Interceptors rained laser and blaster fire on the forward command deck and crew stations, while Heavy TIE bombers targeted the power core housing near aft end of the ship.
And so concerned had the Cronese been on mostly pounding the smaller Tion numbers with their massive weaponry, that they were an instant too slow to react to the fast closing wave of the small starfighters on their commander's precarious position. And worse, the annoying little ships were flying so fast, and so close to the flagship, that the other Dreadnaughts would not dare fire on them lest they accidentally blast their own flagship. This left the Xer VIII on its own against the TIEs.
The Cronese commander finally snapped out of his stupor… and almost falling back into it realizing only a few minutes had passed since the Tion ships were first spotted… and ordered his crew to respond with whatever they had left. The slumbering behemoth opened up with the few remaining turbo laser batteries that its malfunctioning computers could still operate. But even this deadly but limited barrage was not enough. The small, nimble ships were moving just too fast, their maneuvers too well coordinated… always a step ahead of their cannons… moving together seamlessly… moving together… as if of one mind…
Their precision reminded Admiral Mayato of the one time he had been in the presence of Jedi Master Jorus C'baoth, who through use of the Force, had united the minds of his strike team to levels of unparallel coordination of which he had never seen, before or after… perhaps until now though… But that could not be the case this day… There were no Jedis in the Tion Cluster, let alone one on the Tion fleet…
And for a moment… just a brief instant… he let a glimmer of hope rise within him. His Dreadnaughts suddenly seemed to be driving the Tionese ships back… the crispness of their enemy's movements, their supernatural anticipation their shots appeared to have had were not there anymore.
But as quickly as the feeling came it left, as a massive explosion rocked the Xer VIII. Over the blaring sound of alarms and the screaming of his crew he could barely hear his helmsman yelling something that sounded like their power core housing had been breached and was going critical. The Admiral staggered towards the nearest comm station to order a general evacuation but was suddenly blinded by the rain of laser fire that descended on the command deck, as every TIE out there seemed to now be simultaneously firing on his bridge…
His last thought before everything went white was that those deadly nanja flies would indeed be dining on carrion that day.
Darth Azrael could not see it, but could sense the dying screams of anguish of the Cronese within the Xer VIII as it exploded. Their death throes fueling the fire of the Dark Side burning within him, Azrael absorbed it all, feeling as if his body… his very soul… was burning like a supernova. In response, he shifted his focus away from the TIE squadrons and grabbed hold of the remaining Cronese… their shock and dismay, their growing fears and terror, glowing in the Force… in the Dark Side… as clear as daylight…
Their Commander was dead, their flagship gone! And in barely any time at all!
Their sudden vulnerability was there for the taking, threatening to fracture what little spirit they had left… Darth Azrael poured it on, bringing down the hammer that was the Dark Side on that weak link, and unleashed all the pain and anguish he had absorbed moments ago, flooding the Cronese minds and spirits… shattering their morale… their will to fight.
Everything became still then… everything felt… blank… empty… Had it worked? … And then Azrael felt it. Barely a whisper, a conscious decision made… then another one, and another one… And he barely had to search for Admiral Barna within the Karala Santhe to register his feelings of elation… The reason was obvious…
The Cronese were withdrawing… The Tion had won… Outgunned and outnumbered, they had still won. And the battle had lasted barely 20 minutes…
Never underestimate the Force… or the power of the Dark Side.
The drain on his mind and mind had been so great that Azrael collapsed to the ground… He finally release his hold on the battle and felt instantly exhausted… his head throbbed… he vomited on the floor… And if anyone would have walked by his quarters, they would have noticed something else coming from inside…
The sound of laughter…
Exhausted… drained… ecstatic! … Never underestimate the power of the Dark Side!
It was all working… it was all happening as he had planned… He could really do it!
The Sith would be reborn and he would see it done!
But it was not the time to rest on his laurels. It was not the time to be overconfident. There was still much to be done. This was just the first step.
And even after handing out this initial, resounding defeat, that was not all that Darth Azrael had planned for the Cronese Mandate… or the rest of the Tion Cluster.
Chapter 8
"Your thoughts betray you, Kenzei," Dren Kuu'la softly spoke as she walked up behind Azrael and wrapped her arms around his waist, "You should be focused on the Republic envoy… and the Jedi… not your perverted male fantasies."
A smile of contentment crossed Azrael's face as he felt the warm body of his consort pressing against him. The smile was also one of amusement at how, after all this time, she still referred to him by the same alias as when they had first met… and not his true name.
Without turning, he responded to her, "It is not a betrayal if I was not trying to hide them from you, Dren. Besides, you are the one that just told me not to be so tense."
"And I am glad to see that you no longer are, even if you deny that you were… … By the way, did you feel that?"
"Yes… There are two of them."
Following the resounding Tion win at the Battle of XR-4… named after the uninhabited star system the Tion fleet had engaged the Cronese at… the Mandate became much more cautious, foregoing another direct assault on Lianna and focusing instead on the outermost boundaries of the (former) Tion Hegemony and the remote worlds of Caluula and Dellalt.
From a broader standpoint, both planets were viewed to offer little to the Sector at large. Caluula Orbital Station, mostly a home to wandering spacers and the occasional scientist looking to study the extensive local flora, was its most remarkable element. Dellalt on the other hand was a scantly populated… relatively speaking from a planetary scale, having less than 1 billion inhabitants… waterworld, with nothing much of note but some illegal mining operations.
Indeed, not major players in the Cluster… And that was how they were evaluated within the Greater Tion Ruling Council's Situation Room, as Admiral Barna briefed the assembled Council on the current deployment of his troops and the major engagements they were involved in. Caluula and Dellalt was where the big Cronese push was occurring, as they looked to expand their boundaries into the neighboring territory, garnering a stronghold in Tion territory, in all likelihood for a backdoor run at relatively nearby Jaminere, the (former) Allied Tion capital planet.
And, Barna added, his forces in the region would defend those Tion worlds to the best of their abilities, ensuring the Cronese would need to commit significant forces in the area… but in all certainty they would not be able to save the planets. "Sadly expendable" he described them as. And just as the Hegemony Councilor was about to stand up in protest, Barna added, "And that is exactly where and how we want them. Gaining fast and easy access into our space… Stretched out and thin… and ready for the axe blow to cut them in half." It was then that he revealed to them the masterstroke of his plan…
And it was so simple in theory, so anticlimactic compared to the glory of the victory at XR-4, that the Ruling Council seemed almost bored by it.
"But", Barna thought to himself, "they will not be once the Cronese surrender."
The idea had been presented during a staff meeting of Barna's officers and fleet commanders aboard the Karala Santhe, shortly after the Battle of XR-4. With the Cronese regrouping, the question was how to best mobilize their resources to press their advantage. Everything had gone right in the first engagement, but the Mandate still had a significant advantage in numbers, and a prolonged conflict was not in the Tion's best interest.
"Choke them," suddenly had come a voice from the back of the room, and it took a moment for Barna to realize it had been Guelim Soran, in rank a lieutenant and therefore technically an officer, who had said it. The young man had barely said a word… understandably so… since coming on board the flagship rechristened after his deceased fiancée, but Barna knew from his reputation that when Guelim spoke, something meaningful usually followed. And we he asked Guelim to expand on what he meant, he was not disappointed… although perhaps a bit in himself for not having thought of it first.
Barna in turn now related the simplicity of the plan to the Council... and being a man of honor, making sure to give due credit to the brave young man who proposed it to him. One of the lifebloods of the Tion Cluster was the Perlemian Trade Route, one of the five major trade hyperroutes that ran through the galaxy, and specifically through the (former) Allied Tion sector, basically at Lianna's doorstep. Basically all of the Clusters imported goods, legal and otherwise, arrived through the Perlemian Route. And, mostly the legal ones, were redirected and redistributed through Lianna System space… including those normally headed to the Cronese Mandate… which was not exactly the most self-sufficient of the sectors.
The Council approved instantly and gave Barna direction to proceed… making him smile inwardly as he excused himself, as he had directed his charges to mobilize even before he met with the Council…
And with the Cronese giving a wide berth to Lianna while making their push on the opposite end of the Cluster, and leaving a significant garrison of forces guarding their own capital of Chandaar, little opposition or attention was given to the four Immobilizer 418 cruisers… also known as Interdictor-class heavy cruisers… who moved out from Lianna and into position within the route itself… Only a few hundred had been built by Sienar Fleet Systems, and almost all had gone into service for the Imperial Navy. But the Empire no more, it was not very difficult to implement a manufacturer's recall…
Equipped with gravity-well projectors designed to pull ships from or preventing jumping into hyperspace, the Immobilizers now formed an impenetrable blockade for direct entry into the Tion Cluster, whether coming from out in the Corporate Sector or inwards from the Core worlds.
And it was not long after the cordon was in place and the first group of cargo ships bound for Chandaar was abruptly pulled from hyperspace… at which point they were informed of the new state of affairs and sent back where they came from….
Not long after some of the unique and exotic items that the upper class of 'The Jewel of Tion' were expecting never arrived, that the elite began to take umbrage with their politicians…
Not long after the lower classes began to riot at the increasing lack of basic supplies… Intercepted reports from Chandaar made references to some individuals wearing what appeared to be an insignia of a … bloody handprint? …
Not long after long range sensors picked up the Tion siege fleet orbiting around the far fringes of the Cronese throneworld's systems… frigates, corvettes and cruisers further ensuring nothing… or no one… went in or out… that the distress call finally went out to the vanguard fleet… who had by now annexed a significant portion of the (former) Tion Hegemony for the glory of the Cronese Mandate… to come to the rescue of Chandaar and break the siege.
Leaving a garrison to continue to secure their newly gained position, and prepare soon for a launch on Jaminere, the Cronese fleet headed out towards Chandaar at maximum speed… and was promptly yanked out of it shortly after re-entering Mandate space.
The sudden shock of reverting out of hyperspace was short lived as all of the ships' threat alarms began to sound simultaneously, with the fleet now finding itself completely engulfed in a sea of space mines. A quick assessment of the situation allowed the Cronese Admiral in charge of the fleet to identify, besides the pair of Immobilizer 418 cruisers in the vicinity, a myriad of Empion mines… as with the Interdictor ships, designed to pull ships from hyperspace and disable them… ion mines… went to wreak havoc with their electronics… and standard proximity mines… went to detonate once a starship entered a pre-determined range… which the Cronese fleet had now done.
And coinciding with the first round of explosions, the first of the Tion Vindicator cruisers appeared and opened up with its laser batteries, as well as released its squadrons of TIE fighters. The Cronese, still high on their victory over the Dellalt and Caluula defense fleets, had left overconfident and were slow to react to this unexpected attack. And what the mines started, the TIEs expanded and the Vindicators and support vessels finished.
The engagement was a rout and remaining debris field would become a starship graveyard to be marked on star maps for years to come.
Then the Cronese garrison in Tion space decided to come to aid of their fallen comrades… too look for survivors… and make a desperate run back to their capital planet. They made it as far as the outermost boundaries of the system…
That was where the Tion fleet descended on them, having been dispatched shortly after the would-be Cronese rescue fleet had left for Chandaar, and having been mounting on Jaminere, their deep scan sensors having been gauging the weakened state of the Dellalt-Caluula garrison.
It was the only time that the Tion purposely outnumbered the Cronese, the only time they purposely planned on a slugfest… and they made the most of it.
The speed, the technology, the numbers were just simply too much for the Cronese to overcome, even as they battled gallantly in the face of certain doom. And in the end, yet another unsightly debris field composed primarily of Cronese Mandate starships was created near the now-treacherous Cronese-Tion space boundary.
And so in a relatively short span, the bulk of the Cronese naval fleet had been destroyed, the gains they had made were wiped out, and their capital was now isolated and being choked to death, due a lack of resources and the muscle to obtain them.
As Admiral Barna mused from his command center as reports continued to come in from the battle theaters, he was certain it would not be long before the Cronese capitulated. They had been broken physically and siege of their throneworld would break them spiritually. And it all was happening as Guelim Cad hal predicted it would… Unbelievable how easy it had been. How could he have possibly ascertained their enemies' moves with such accuracy… He must make sure to keep that young man close by, as his star would surely rise even faster than it had been previously…
Yet even as their spaceborne comrades where being overwhelmed, the Cronese occupying forces on the ground in Dellalt and Caluula refused to go quietly into the night. When reality of their isolation… and worse, eventual capture… became evident, they collectively decided to make matters for the Tion citizens as bad… as brutal… as they could possible could.
Knowing there was strength… and safety… in numbers, the remaining Cronese troops… which in total equaled two full divisions… or over 30,000 soldiers… consolidated fully in Dellalt and began a violent purge of all Tion humans on the planet. The citizenry, feeling isolated and abandoned after the Cronese forces had vested their meager defense, fought back with what little they had… stones, sticks, fists… anything.
At the same time, several of the inhabitants running illegal mining operations on the planet… and who had so far managed to stay away from the large scale conflict… saw this as an opportunity to increase their possessions and began looting the habitation centers even as the battles ragedon in the streets.
But most interesting… or unusual depending on your point of view… of those joining the fray were a group called the 'Survivors', a cult of inbred descendants of Xim the Despot and who had remained in relative isolation for over 25,000 years. They had briefly resurfaced just over 20 years prior, engaging both the miners and human smuggler named Han Solo, but had remained out sight once more ever since. But the increasing chaos around the planet caught their attention and, believing that Xim's High Command had finally returned, joined the fray.
It is worth noting that the Survivors believed the sacrifice of sentient beings would help increase the strength of their distress signal to their deliverers.
Soon, Dellalt was in a state of complete anarchy. And as chaos reigned, the events were observed with great interest by a very interested individual.
Even with all of the success in the Tion-Cronese conflict so far, there was still something that, deep down, still bothered… burned inside… Darth Azrael. Something about himself… And being immersed in the struggle of the war had only made it burn stronger…
Ever since his fateful visit to Naos III, Darth Azrael had been inwardly questioning his combat abilities… Sure, he had destroyed countless battle droids, of the deadliest sort, but they did not have a living being's will to live… He had pummeled into submission some of the toughest Santhe Security troopers, but that had been under fairly controlled conditions…The engagements in Desevro and Barseg? Overwhelming overmatched opponents, even when they had the element of surprise on him, provided limited comfort. And his greatest achievement in the Force, the Battle of XR-4?' … Truly a wondrous feat, punching through his limitations and exceeding the previous limits of his body and mind… And yet, it required the involvement of thousands of others… Not a true gage of his individual abilities…
That left the Naos III affair as the only time he had truly been in an individual, life and death situation struggle, when his skills… admittedly much less developed than they were today… were put to the test, pushed to their limits, with no one to depend on but himself… And, in his eyes, he had failed miserably. Yes, he had been victorious but just barely so. Had his opponent pressed the attack and not left him the briefest opening to strike with the Force, he might not have left with his life.
And the irony that standing at his side was the source of his anxiety… serving now as perhaps his closest confidante… did not escape him. Irony… no… The Force sending him a clear message… There is no place for insecurity with a Sith Lord. And as long as that fire of doubt burned inside him, he would not be able to be who he was meant to be. And the fire would only be able to be extinguished in the heat of battle… and paid for in blood… his or his adversaries…
Most likely, both…
Azrael turned his head towards Dren, who was standing off to his right and wearing one of her typically provocative outfits that. In typical Twi'lek fashion, it appeared to be almost too form-fitting to be slipped on and off, and which greatly accentuated the many curves of her muscular body while exposing as much of it as possible at all the right places… Which was of great benefit in her previous, less-than-successful career in dancing, as well as her more thriving one as bodyguard. Very few things distracted a would-be male attacker… and they were almost always males, it must be in their chromosomes… than a beautiful, curvaceous female whose clothing left little to the imagination.
The young Sith was about to address her, when Dren let a sly smile cross her face and spoke before he did, "Do not hurt them too badly, Kenzei."
"Actually, that is exactly the point," Azrael replied, flashing her a smile of his own, as he stepped back and headed in the general direction of the 'Aureole's escape pod deployment rooms, while once more being taken aback by the many talents… and mysteries… of the Twi'lek. He had had a sneaking suspicion about her for quite some time now, and it appeared it would soon be time to explore it further…
But first things first, he thought, as he slipped on his facemask after the door to the bridge closed behind him. Darth Azrael opened himself fully to the Force… but as quickly as he did, he withdrew from it. He had planned to attempt tapping into the flow of the future events and hopefully gain some further insight into how his intended course of action would play out. But at the last second, he decided against it…
This would be a test… a rigid, self-imposed test… and the outcome will strictly be determined by his actions, by his skill, by his true power. And he would not be influenced or distracted by some probability in some future that may or may not be happen… There was no room for self-doubt, for insecurity, for fears…
His immediate future would only be decided by him, by the Force, by the Dark Side, and what he would do next… for better or for worse.
Chapter 9
After landing his pod on the outskirts of a non-descript marsh… the planet Dellalt being covered mostly by water… Darth Azrael began to make his way on foot towards the nearest major population center, and from where he sensed… both through the Force and his ship's sensors… a major conflict was happening… and had been for some time.
As he covered the ground in lengthening strides, heeding the call of the Dark Side, Azrael could also sense the dark imprint that the planet's history had left on its surface. The cries of betrayal of the Jedi murdered in Dellalt during the execution of the infamous Order 66… unleashed by Darth Sidious, the last Dark Lord of the Sith, as his master stroke to rid the galaxy of the Jedi…
Or more recently, the suffering of the true Dellatians, … also known as the Swimming People of Dellalt … lake-dwelling sauropteroids indigenous to the planet, and now forced to flee their habitats due to raging conflict, lest they risk death, or even capture into forced labor, as some of those within the occupying force were rumored to be doing.
Clad in simple, loose-fitting clothing to allow for maximum mobility… which was mostly covered up by a dark, hooded robe… and symbolic blood-stained mask in place, Darth Azrael strode into the city lightsaber in hand, although still unlit… but not for long.
A trio of… rabid was the first description that came to him mind… men came out from behind a wrecked transport and rushed him, screaming and firing their weapons without rhyme or reason. Judging by their clothing and armament, they appeared to be Cronese soldiers.
Darth Azrael in turn calmly but quickly assumed the Niman lightsaber combat form opening stance… the blade cocked high at head-height, held in both hands angled slightly inwards, with the dominant foot forward… and, after deflecting back the few laser blasts close enough to provide a threat, pulled the lead attacker closer with the Force, slashing his head off as he brought him into the path of his swinging blade. Azrael pivoted on his back foot, following the momentum of his blade arm, and as he swung around he released his lightsaber, which flew in a deadly arch towards the attacker coming from his right… leading to a second decapitation. The third attacker though could neither help his fallen comrades or even yell out in grief, as he had found himself flying backwards through the air a mere instant after Darth Azrael's lightsaber left his hand, the dull thud and bone crunching sound as his body collided forcefully against the wall of a nearby building being heard a few moments later.
The initial threat neutralized, Darth Azrael called the still airborne lightsaber to him, then refocused his senses on what lay ahead… The sounds of battle, the heat and smoke of raging fires and explosions, the throes of death… Anger, grief, hate, fear… The sounds off…
"No, please! Spare them!"
… desperation.
Through the smoke that seemed to be flowing and permeating every inch of the city, Darth Azrael could still a group of five humans… a male, a female and three children; a family assuredly… cuffed and on their knees, and looking up at four Cronese soldiers standing before them, one of which was aiming a rifle at them…
An execution...
Azrael could feel the terror emanating from male and female, mixed in with the fear and confusion of the children, who did not fully grasp the severity of their situation and were looking, as all children do, to their parents to make the bad people go away…
Unfortunately, the parents would not be able to… and they knew it.
Meanwhile, the blinding malevolence that permeated the aura of the Cronese was unmistakable. They were stranded in a foreign land, with little chance of rescue, surrounded by a hostile population, and the soldiers were determined to take out their anger on them. Adults, children, elderly… it did not matter. They would also suffer as they were.
The lead Cronese flashed the family a savage grim… letting them know their fate was sealed… and pulled the trigger. Only his finger did not move. Confused, he glanced down at this right hand, then pulled again… and still his hand remained frozen. Growing increasingly frustrated, he tried a third time, but with the same result.
"What is the matter, Sergeant?" one of the other Cronese asked the would-be shooter, who replied…
"I do not know! This worthless rifle is stuck!"
"No, it is not that," a voice then cut in, making the assembled groups turn towards its source… a figure clad in a dark robe, his left arm outstretched towards them, his faced covered by a horrible bloodstained mask… and a lit lightsaber held by his right hand.
Darth Azrael had initially intended to simply strike the Cronese from a distance with the Force, but the call for blood upon sensing their intentions… theirs plus the raw feelings from their victims fueled the fire of the Dark Side within him; too much fear, too much hate… was almost uncontrollable. Now he wanted to see them up close, derive satisfaction from when they were the ones with the look of terror on their faces.
Everything seemed to freeze... Darth Azrael staring down the Cronese, who in turn had their eyes fixed on him, confusion washing over them, while the Dellalt captives remained too stunned… and terrified… to move. Suddenly, the boom from a far away explosion washed over them, shattering the brief calm that had momentarily imposed itself over the violent madness…
"What in blazes are you talking about, you flarg hea…?" the gun-wielding soldier began to say before the hand that had been raised in his direction exploded in a bright flash of lightning.
Using the Force to boost his speed, Darth Azrael was on them in an instant, his lightsaber carving a bright red arc of light that sliced upwards across the body of the Cronese soldier from groin to neck… The man was long dead before his body hit the ground…
The remaining three instinctively began to raise their weapons, but in such a clumsy manner as they were frozen in shock and fear, that it allowed a Darth Azrael a slight moment to soak in their terror and do his best to amplify it…
"The wanton murder of innocents will not be tolerated."
Azrael also was fully aware of the irony that those innocent lives that he was advocating for were now being placed at risk as a direct result of his action, but he pushed it to the back recesses of his mind as his crimson blade tore in and through his victims with unrivaled precision…
The innocent… An unfortunate side effect in the drive for a greater purpose…
Or were they? As the body of the last of the soldiers fell to the ground, none of them having even fired one shot, Azrael thought whether his desire to come to this planet, to test himself was really driven by the need to purge his fears… or was he subconsciously attempting to atone for having indirectly sentenced so many innocent people to death by his actions?
He had come here seeking closure, yet was instead generating more questions… more doubts…
"Please, I beg you. Do not… kill us…"
The cries for mercy from the captives snapped Darth Azrael back to reality. He turned his head towards them and unlocked their stun cuffs with the wave of a hand while replying, "You have nothing to fear from me."
Azrael did not find it necessary to elaborate that he only meant right now, at this very moment… and how that situation could change very fast. Instead he just added, "What happened here?"
The intimidating sight that he was… dark cloak, deadly lightsaber, bloodstained mask… plus the savage display of violence he had just displayed filled them with trepidation, yet not enough to hold back their gratefulness, "The Cronese, they are crazy!" said the father/husband of the group, "Hell, everything is crazy! Ever since their fleet was destroyed, the remaining soldiers have been going around destroying everything around them and killing everyone they see."
This last statement made the man recall how close he and his family had been to being added to that list, and he broke into tears, turning around to embrace his wife and children, which had huddled timidly around him.
Finding strength in their touch, he turned back to Azrael and continued, "A lot of us have fought back… Hell, there are millions of us and only thousands of them, so we should be able to take care of them, right? But we do not have the weapons they have… or their savagery… Thank you… Thank you for saving us… But you better be careful, before you get added to their hit list."
"Hiding from them is not what I came here to do," Azrael replied somberly, although no longer certain of what he truly sought… But even as the entire picture was not clear, part of it still was, "Do you have any information that can assist me in… dealing… with them?"
"There is some sort of command post inside that tall building there," the man replied as he raised a weary finger towards a decrepit-looking building nearby, "That used to be one of our best hotels… That is where the soldiers took us after they captured us… One of the men inside ordered them to take us out here and… shoot us."
And indeed Darth Azrael could sense the heightened emotions emanating from that direction… That would be his next destination…
"Thank you for your help… Now run away as far as you can from here. And be safe," he said, then began to briskly walk in the direction of the former hotel, yet not so fast that could not hear one of the children asking his parents 'was that blood on his face?'
Upon reaching the main entrance, Darth Azrael unlit his lightsaber and slid it inside one of the sleeves of his cloak… no need to advertise or give a way a tactical advantage… Then stepping through the automatic opening doors, he reached outwards with the Force and took stock of everything around him, fusing a mental image of all the immediate, and potential, threats around him. His keenly developed and overly sensitive 'danger' sense also kicked into high gear, the familiar tingling in his spine surging wildly… There was so much danger around him, and so much of it was hidden… He would not see it coming until the last possible moment…
Then the doors closed behind him, making an audible 'clank' when they sealed… All of those in the immediate vicinity looked towards the sound… The hair in the back of Azrael's neck and along his forearms stood on end… He was outnumbered by countless many… seen and unseen… rifles and pistols were evident, as were battered faces and knuckles… The stench of violence, hate and anger was everywhere…
Life or death, there would be no other option. And Darth Azrael was all alone… Except for the Force…
And the Force was enough… would have to be… or else the journey would end here and now…
"Kill the son of a Sith harlot," the Cronese that appeared to be the leader called out casually as his gaze fell on Azrael, perfectly comfortable to the fact that anyone that was not with them would have a death warrant assigned…
Azrael for an instant found the inadvertently semi-accurate reference to a Sith humorous… but with the disparaging remark hitting to close to home and reminding him about his long death mother, in spite the fact he knew it just to be bluster and not an actual personal attack, blue lightning sprung from his finger tips and viciously struck the man where he stood, frying his nervous system in the process and rendering him catatonic…
The other battle-hardened soldiers, although briefly bewildered by the unexpected method of attack of the stranger, lashed out fiercely at him… weeks of non-stop combat leaving them with their nerves shot and keeping them perpetually on edge.
Darth Azrael in turn responding with equal ferocity.
Words would be hard to come by to describe the chaotic fray that ensued. Shots flew from all around, fist and kicks reigned down on their intended target, anything that was not hard fixed to a surface was picked up and thrown, only to be met in kind by a swirling crimson blade… moving so fast it seemed like all but a blur… along with impacts, shoves and pulls from some unseen source, plus a fair share of fists and kicks thrown in for good measure.
Darth Azrael had now become a conduit of the Force… seeing, feeling, reacting, attacking without apparent thought and certainly without hesitation. Laser fire rained all around him, but an instant too late, his movements so fast, so precise, he always appeared to be a precognizant step ahead…
Yes, he was neither invulnerable nor indestructible, and shots and attacks would reach his body. His blood flowed from various slashing and burning wounds, his vital fluids mixing on the floor with those of his mounting victims, but it was all inconsequential to an agent of the Dark Side, powered by the will of the Force.
But the Cronese were as resolute, and either they would survive, or no one would…
Darth Azrael's danger sense alerted him an instant before the explosion rocked the inside of the hotel… just enough time to wrap himself up in a Force shield that would absorb a large amount of the concussive force headed his way… a desperate Cronese soldier had ignited a thermal detonator… but not enough to avoid it. The explosion's inferno and accompanying shock wave slammed into everyone there, tossing them around like dolls. Azrael slammed forcefully into and through one of the few walls still standing, the ensuing sharp snap and accompanying burst of pain letting him know he had, at the very least, broken his left arm.
Feeling his clothes burning, his arm refusing to cooperate, Azrael drew deeper into himself, letting the Force wash over him, using his pain to fuel the Dark Side that raged within his soul, and forcing himself to rise. He would not die on the ground like a defeated animal…
Yet once he had staggered to his feet, he noticed he was the only one left standing… bringing a smile to his face…
So far, so good…
Chapter 10
From then on, hours became days, days became weeks, weeks became months… or so it seemed like to Darth Azrael. He could no longer tell how long he had been in Dellalt… It could have been a few days… or much, much longer… He could not say for certain. Dellalt was such a maelstrom of chaos and violence, and he had submerged himself fully into it, drawing from the waves of intense feelings that intensely flowed from every being on the planet to in turn power him as he relentlessly pushed forward.
Following only the flow of the Dark Side, the Force guided him to the areas with most intense sensations of hate, anger and fear… which invariably took him towards the growing misery of the planet's human citizens, as the Cronese forces continued their hate-driven purge of everything and anyone they found.
Wherever he turned, Darth Azrael continued to come across similar scenes of chaos and destruction, and he could no longer tell how many Cronese soldiers he had killed or how many Dellalt citizens in turn he had delivered from their oppressors. And he could tell the increasing dread that now emanated from the Mandate troops any time they caught sign of him that so had his infamy spread, his bloodhand becoming a symbol of terror to them.
And almost above all the things that had blurred together, he had even lost track of how much blood he had lost in the process… But that did not matter. Dellalt would be his baptism of flesh and soul… And he could also sense through the haze and bloodlust that a climax was fast approaching… yet not who would play the part of victor and who of victim…
After a particularly vigorous round of questioning of a fallen Cronese soldier, Darth Azrael approached the stronghold where the highest ranking Mandate officer left in Dellalt… in essence, the occupation's de-facto leader… was said to be holed up in. Azrael slid into the safehouse… no more than the remains of a permacrete building of no longer discernable past usage... undetected and managed to secure a perch with an unobstructed view of the assembled group below.
And to his surprise, it seemed like, if not all, then most of the remaining Cronese officers were all gathered there. He could have taken them all out in one crushing move. Darth Azrael reached out with the Force towards them and sensed something he had not felt from them in a long time… confidence. He then followed to where their attention seemed to be focusing on and found the cause for their improved spirits. There, on one of the tables, laid a remote detonator. And extending his senses further… and downward… Azrael found what it was eventually intended to detonate… a pressure bomb.
Used for millennia by various Tion Cluster military organizations, pressure bombs were designed to release a vast quantity of sheer pressure when set off… hence the name… causing massive, widespread damage. And it was then, against his will, that a flash of visions flashed in his mind. Azrael tried not to concentrate on them, determined not to let his future decisions be influenced, yet he neither could ignore such an obvious message from the Force. Trying to only focus on the near future and not how all would play out, one of these visions… on of these future paths… suddenly stood out among the others.
Yes, that was the one… the one he would follow. It closely aligned to the ideas that had been forming in his head, but its implementation was much more radical... and incredibly more dangerous.
His mind made up, Darth Azrael pulled the Force to him, enveloping his body, then used it to gently lower himself onto the floor below… right into the middle of the now-baffled Cronese soldiers.
Seeing the dark cloaked figure that had plagued their nightmares for so long suddenly descend on them as if floating on air sent some of the Cronese scampering back in fright. Yet others fed of the safety net a few floors below and remained defiant. Most of them raised towards him whatever weapons they had at their disposal. Their leader… a Naval Commander by the look of the insignia on his tattered uniform… rose from his seat and, as he approached Azrael, hand-held blaster in hand, said…
"Your arrogance in coming here will finally spell your death, demon."
Darth Azrael met his gaze with a smile and, as the detonator suddenly flew from the table to his outstretched hand…
"Wait! What are you doing?!" the Cronese commander blurted out as Azrael's fingers wrapped themselves around the metal rod, his thumb heading towards the detonation button as panic and terror swept across the room.
Darth Azrael reveled in it…
"No! You will kill us all! You are crazy!"
Yes, this was crazy …
"Stop! Do you want to die?!"
No, he did not. He was not suicidal… But his actions were insane … mental… perverse…
Just what a follower of the Dark Side would do…
Then, as he once drew the Force once more into himself, his thumb came down on the switch and everything went white.
Darth Azrael began to ascend out of the rubble… The passage of time once still a blur in his mind… The extent of his injuries not enough to impede his progress… although the coppery taste of his own blood, as well as the incessant throbbing from almost every part of his body, was a clear and present reminder of them… or dampen his sense of exultation.
The Cronese on Dellalt were defeated… even if not yet fully eradicated. He had stared death in the face… goaded it… and came out alive… stronger than before… never did he waver.
Now if he could only dig himself out…
It was then that Azrael was surprised… something that very rarely happened… as, through the mist, he saw an arm… a hand… reaching out to him. Sensing no evil intentions, he grasped it with his own and took the offered assistance to climb out of the rubble… and the extent of his surprised was suddenly multiplied.
Standing there was a man… a local of Dellalt, not part of any group or militia…
But his face…
His face was marked with was unmistakably recognizable as a bloody handprint. And as Azrael noticed the remains of partly drying blood on the man's own hand, he had no doubt in the manner in which he had applied his mark. But that was not the only reason for his increasing bewilderment…
Behind the man were a dozen or so other figures, men and women… and all bearing the same sadistic, self-inflicted mark on their faces.
"We are with you to the end, Master Danlut," the first man simply stated and then fell back to stand with his comrades.
It was then that the full effect of the enormity of his actions hit Azrael like a blow to the chest. 'Danlut' the man had said. His renown had spread across the sector on hearsay alone… the strength of his deeds carrying his message on the wings of men's words… And it had inspired strangers to follow him without question once they realized who he was… without intervention… without the Force to influence them…
That was what true power was all about!
That was what he was meant to see…
Now there were no more self-doubts…
"Thank you… I will not let you down," was all Azrael could reply. He could also tell… he could feel… that by acknowledging their feelings he had emboldened them… unified them under him.
Yet the irony that he was hailed a savior for ending the chaos that he himself had created did not escape him… of course, no one else needed to know those specifics right now.
Azrael abruptly turned as he sensed another being coming up behind him and was rewarded with a second, subsquent surprise… something that never, ever happened. Standing there, her features barely visible through the mist and smoke, was Dren Kuu'la. And as Azrael focused his senses on her, he was taken aback by what he felt… Happiness and relief by themselves he understood, but they were fed by a fading sense of dread.
And he did not need the Force to help him notice that she had been crying…
Walking towards her, Azrael pulled off his mask and could just say, "Dren?" … the sight of his companion in tears rendering him momentarily speechless… Not a condition he had foreseen.
"After the… explosion… I… I… thought you might be… dead," she replied in a tone that implied that she still did not quite believe her eyes.
The implications of how she could have come to that conclusion from orbit and without the means to monitor him were filed away for later appraisal. Azrael simply took walked silently towards her and, to the men and women observing them, appeared to embrace and kiss her at the same time.
Whether a second, a minute or an hour passed, it did not matter. When the two separated, Azrael finally replied, "Not yet… And hopefully not for a long time. There is still too much to be done."
"On this planet… or between us?"
"Both."
No one claimed credit for the Liberation of Dellalt… as that period of time became known after hostilities officially ended… but numerous witnesses spoke up to whomever would listen, and helped continue to grow the legend of the elusive Kenzei Danlut. Now there were many… primary among them the Greater Tion Ruling Council… that did not advocate some of his reported more brutal methods to achieving his intended means, but still the impact of these tales spread like wildfire.
It was not long until sightings began to surface around the Tion Cluster of a growing number of individuals sporting what appeared to be bloody handprints on their person…
And not much long afterwards, cut-off from vital resources and intergalactic modes of transportation… with critical deliveries seized and their fighting spirit crushed… the Cronese Mandate capitulated as spring arrived in Lianna on the year 21 ABY, thus ending the Tion-Cronese War…
As part of the Treaty of Lianna… the peace treaty that officially ended the war between the Greater Tion Cluster and Cronese Mandate…the Mandate was required to accept responsibility for causing the war, Robeir XXIII had to abdicate his throne, lest he be tried as a war criminal, plus the Cronese had to make substantial territorial concession to the Tion as well as pay reparations for the war effort.
Being at the mercy of the Tion, the Mandate had not choice but to accept, even though it reduced their once proud society to little more than a thrall of their more powerful neighbor.
It was then that Guelim Soran made his surprise and impassioned speech to the gathered assembly at the treaty signing. Invited not in a formal role, but out of courtesy due to his personal loss at the beginning of hostilities, Guelim interposed himself into the proceedings, calling for unity instead of further division and animosity… so many had already suffered, there was no need to increase to their numbers… The Cronese people did not need to suffer for the actions of their misguided leaders…
And as he spoke, everyone became drawn to him, as if he emanated some kind of 'human magnetism', all those in attendance hinged on his every word… moved by them… Here was one that had suffered an irreparable loss, so many of families on both sides of the conflict could related so much to him, now willing to take the first true step to repair the damage that had been done.
And when Guelim asked for the Mandate to join the Greater Tion in creating a truly unified Tion Cluster, and in turn asked the Ruling Council to offer a seat to their neighbors, nobody could refuse.
Later, as the two figures huddle together on the balcony overlooking the sprawling expanse of Lianna City, they could have been overheard saying….
"Congratulations, Kenzei. You now own the entire Tion Cluster. Is this what you wanted?"
"No… This is just the beginning. The best is yet to come."
Chapter 11
Azrael had speculated for some time that Dren was Force-sensitive, and this final test had sealed the deal. Telling her to 'trust me', Azrael asked her to turn his back to him, then, after taking a few steps back, whipped his lit lightsaber at her head. And as soon as it left his hand, Dren abruptly turned around towards him, only to drop to the ground startled as the deadly weapon swirled overhead… just moments before it decapitated her.
Anger flashed on her face as she glared at Azrael, balling her hands into fists and barely holding back the urge to lunge at him, and make him pay dearly for this apparent betrayal. Yet the poignant smile he was giving her soothed the fury that had briefly boiled inside her.
Understanding then dawned on her, as she realized the 'murder attempt' was nothing of the sort…
"And if I did not duck out of the way, you chi'kan…"
"Then I would have had quite a mess to clean up."
"I do not believe that for a second."
Azrael reached out and called the lightsaber back to him, the shiny cylinder smacking Dren in the back of the head, becoming unlit at the moment before impact.
"Oww! You really are a chi'kan!"
"And you can never let your guard down… even if all I am having is a little fun."
"Then I suggest you heed your own advice the next time you are looking to have a little more kuri'au fun… Because you might not be able to call other things back to you as easily."
For an instant, Darth Azrael considered whether he could train her to be his apprentice, but just as quickly discarded the thought. Besides the inherent complications that entering a Master-Apprentice relationship with someone with whom you were romantically involved would bring, the words of his own Master, Darth Revan, still rung inside his head…
When the time comes for you to take on an apprentice, you will teach him to follow the Light, and to lead the Jedi…
His Master's idea on how to finally bring forth continued balance to the Force were as true now as they were when Azrael had first heard them, and he would not deviate from that path. Still, the first undertaking was to return the Sith to glory and prominence, and fostering Dren's latent Force abilities would surely do nothing but aid in that quest, even if not as Darth Azrael's apprentice.
It was then that Azrael recalled something he had seen during his days in Drongar, living out of the wreck of the crashed VCD987 cruiser. Its data banks had held information on a group of individuals within the Confederacy of Independent System's ranks referred to as Dark Acolytes. These were a group of Force-sensitive individuals that were trained by Count Dooku… a.k.a. Darth Tyranus… to lead the armies of the Confederacy of Independent Systems against the Galactic Republic and the Jedi Order. Not true apprentices, yet invaluable assistants.
But before he could proceed down a similar path with Dren, there was one more critical step Azrael needed to take. And a misstep there would complicate matters extensively. But still, if Azrael intended to train Dren as his Acolyte… or even simply continue to foster the blossoming relationship between them… he must introduce her to Darth Azrael.
As he approached her, Azrael could not help but feel melancholic at the thought of the one person he had revealed his Sith path to… Ryam Quis, ironically another Twi'lek, who for a time had been his only friend, almost like an older sister to him… and how that confrontation had resulted in her death by his hand.
That end result had been unexpected, his reaction instinctive but without hesitation.
This time though, he was preparing himself in advance for it. Yet, as he gazed at her, his feelings for his duty and for her clashing inside him, Azrael knew doing what had to be done… if it came to it… would be much more difficult than before.
"What is wrong, Kenzei?" Dren said with a tone of true concern, seeing the look of preoccupation on his face.
Moving swiftly, Azrael reached up and placed his right hand on her face, gripping her mind with the Force, "My name is not Kenzei Danlut, nor is it Guelim Soran. I was born Alandres Cal on the planet of Roon. But Alandres died, along with his entire family, a long time ago. That was when Azrael was born."
As he spoke, Azrael flashed images and memories into Dren's mind, sharing with her his underworld dealings in Roon, the discovery of his family's bodies… and his brutal reaction… his showdown with Governor Gaaf… and his early days on inhospitable Drongar.
And during this revelation, instead of aversion, Azrael only felt yearning from Dren… 'Show me more' it felt like… And so he did… All of it…
The planets, the voyages, the training, the people, the killings… and finally… Darth Revan… and his christening on Roon's moon as Darth Azrael.
Azrael then released his mind grip and stepped back, giving Dren a moment to absorb everything he had shared… yet maintaining her senses keenly focused, ready to jump at the most minimal sign of distrust or hostility. Still, as she always seemed to do, she surprised him once more by saying…
"So when do we start?"
And that they did. Dren Kuu'la already had a nasty streak to her personality… had already tasted blood… and took to her training with vigor. She developed an affinity to the Force… to the Dark Side… with quickness and ease. She seemed to have an especially great attraction to physical powers, particularly those like Force Speed and Jump as well as, and this did not surprise Azrael in the least, various Force Mind Tricks… What else would you expect from a beautiful Twi'lek?
Dren was also a deadly fighter, as Azrael had found out first hand, and would become an even deadlier one with the right lightsaber training. Based on her unique abilities, Darth Azrael began to instruct her in Form IV, Ataru…. This was an aggressive form in which the users were always on the offensive, calling on the Force to bolster their movements and attacks, boosting their speed to dizzying height and allowing them perform amazing feats of acrobatics. And Darth Azrael thought it suited Dren perfectly.
But one item was still missing to accomplish this… a lightsaber for his Acolyte. Building one would be reserved for his true apprentice, so he instead presented her with his 'original' lightsaber… the one that had belonged to Jedi Master Cei Vookto and been a mounted trophy at the Santhe Mansion… and that Azrael had used when him and Dren clashed for the first time. Like the combat style, the weapon seemed a fitting one... especially after Azrael personalized the hilt with black woven silk from a Javalash worm, a creature native to Dren's native Ryloth.
Following months of intensive training… in the Force, in combat and in what she lacked most of all, diplomacy… his Acolyte companion was now literally chomping at the bit to release her newfound power on the unsuspecting galaxy. So Darth Azrael began to unfold the next phase of his plan… developed as his takeover of the Tion Cluster was in full effect. He had initially though of carrying it out himself, but now it seemed like the perfect task… and perfect test… to set his Dark Acolyte onto.
It would also free him to focus his attention on another important matter that he had been meaning to attend to.
The Corporate Sector Authority (CSA) was a brutal and tyrannical dictatorship that ruled over the Corporate Sector, which was located at the front end of the Tingel Arm region on the far reaches of the Outer Rim, and encompassed nearly 30,000 systems… almost 100x the size of the Tion Cluster. The CSA historically violated the rights of the countless sentient beings within its borders, and would, without hesitation, strip a planet bare, using its own population as slave labor and destroying the world's natural environment in the process.
In order to keep their citizens under control, the CSA's Security Division deployed its own 'police' force, known locally as Espos, and which had a well-deserved reputation for brutality. And many of those that would run afoul of the Espos or the CSA brass would find themselves sent to a true hell, the Stars' End prison on the planet Mytus VII.
But the Corporate Sector was not without its significance to the outside galaxy, as it lay at the trail end of the Hydian Way trade route, which ran from the Outer Rim through the galactic core, and continued through, fully to the opposite end of the galaxy, making it the only route that passed through the entire galaxy.
And as with the Lianna and the Tion Cluster, the port world of Bonadan in the CSA controlled what, how, when and where all major goods into the CSA planets were dispersed.
All in all, what better place was there like the Corporate Sector for the Sith to flourish.
So on a non-descript night, as the year 21 ABY drew to a close, a newly refurbished WR-542 Shooting Star light liaison frigate… the fastest type of ship ever built by Sienar Fleet Systems, both in hyperspace and atmospheric flight… and christened Giza, a Twileki word for 'stiletto' or 'blade'… headed out towards Etti IV, the capital of the Corporate Sector, with the newly initiated Dark Acolyte on board.
Etti IV was a hot and stormy, densely populated world settled by the Etti, a blue-skinned humanoid race, over 20,000 years ago and inhabited by species from all over the sector, as it sat at the nexus of several local trade routes. On a place like that, even a rare Lethan Twi'lek would not stand out.
And with Dren Kuu'la and the Giza on their way and to be met a later date, Darth Azrael boarded the 'Auerole and headed out by himself… to the Esstran Sector… to the planet Korriban.
Korriban was the original homeworld of the Sith species and a sacred planet for the old Sith Order. It was were the first Jedi that left the Order went to after the Hundred Years of Darkness conflict, and were the first Sith Order was founded. To this day, it still housed the tombs of many ancient Dark Lords of the Sith… plus it pulsated with tremendous Dark Side power.
During his stays in planets like Drongar and Raxus Prime, Darth Azrael had fed off the dark energies that previous traumatic events had forever engrained on these planets, fueling the Dark Side within him. Having seen firsthand the power those worlds held, he had made it a point to venture to more of their kind. And from his former Master, as well as the Tascollan holocron, he had learned of Korriban, and the decision to travel to it was made.
But those other worlds were mere pittance in the Dark Side compared to what awaited on Korriban.
After docking the 'Aureole in the settlement of Dreshdae, Darth Azrael reached out with the Force, opening up his senses to the fullest, intent of soaking all the dark energy around him… and was slammed with a blast like he had never felt before. His heart felt as if it would burst out of his chest… his whole body was… or at least felt like… split into its most basic atoms and imbued with the purest, strongest essence from the Dark Side as only the Sith homeworld could.
Every nerve ending tingling with the Dark Side, Darth Azrael disembarked his ship… forsaking his Sith mask for a Desevrar infantry helmet and protective glasses… a souvenir picked up during his trip to Desevro… in order to conceal his features, as he did not wish to announce the presence of either Guelim Soran or Kenzei Danlut… and walked into the decrepit port, the once bustling facility now fallen into a state of disrepair.
With a planet-wide population of perhaps just over a thousand, Azrael only came across a bored port 'official' upon debarking, who was then sent on his way with a wave of a hand as he came over to request the docking fee. Through barely lit corridors he then traveled, noticing the long unoccupied remains of what had once been a trading stall, and going past the main hub of the facility, its rundown cantina 'The Drunk Side'. Inside, only a withered, old Twi'lek bartender was serving his customers… all two of them.
Yes, life in Korriban was scant at most. But not the presence of the Dark Side…
The scars left on the planet over millennia would never be erased, most recent of which had been the Battle of Korriban … merely seven years ago… where a large group of Jedi, sent by the New Republic, had engaged the Dark Side cult known as the Disciples of Ragnos.
The group worshipped and sought to resurrect Marka Ragnos, the long dead Dark Lord of the Sith… who some say was the most powerful of all… and was exactly what the Jedi strike team sought to prevent. The final battle evolved into a massive combat between Force users and concluded violently when Jedi Jaden Korr defeated Marka Ragnos's spirit, which had taken over one of the cultist's body… Darth Azrael thought he could still hear his Ragnos's cries of rage as his body was cut down and his spirit was forcefully returned to the Netherworld.
Darth Revan had also visited Korriban on a number of occasions, and the vicious swatch his former Master had cut through it, over 4,000 years ago, still burned deeply within the Force. At the time, Korriban housed the main Sith Academy, where Dark Side adepts were sent for… or sought… training, its graduates in turn used to fuel Revan's… and later his former apprentice and then Dark Lord, Darth Malak's… Sith armies as they waged war against the Republic.
Then on his fateful last visit, the redeemed Revan and his companions had killed every member of the Academy. And as Darth Azrael stepped out of the settlement and into the arid Korriban day, and gazed at the ruins of the Academy off in the distance, he was certain he could still smell the blood spilled in anger and violence all those thousands of years ago.
And that was exactly where he was headed…
Azrael did not have a specific plan or goal in mind, and was strictly acting on instinct. He knew the Valley of the Dark Lords… where the millennia-old tombs off all the greatest Sith Lords were carved into the rock of the foreboding mountains that formed the valley… lay beyond the port, beyond the wreck of the Academy. And he would surely go there. Yet it was within what was left of the Academy that he sensed his path must go through… To meet what lay ahead… whatever that something was…
When the Dark Side of the Force washed over him with such immeasurable intensity, Darth Azrael had been able to, almost instinctively, gleamed something about the future to come. Something unusually specific, yet vague at the same time. All destinies, all currents of events that lay ahead for him, converged on a single point… a single future… near future… event.
And from there, all future paths branched out again. And by the emptiness he sensed from some of them, not all of the futures included him.
Whatever this apocalyptic event was, its outcome would decide the future of the Sith Order. Darth Revan had told him that the Dark Side was inevitable, but whose vision would it carry forth with it?
Azrael eventually found a way in through gaping hole that years of unattended erosion had bore into one of the Academy walls, then lit his lightsaber to brighten his way through the darkened hallways, the ancient carvings on them made to look all the more ominous by the dark carmine light that now illuminated them.
With every step, his 'danger sense' pulsated stronger, the gripping feeling at the back of his neck vibrating incessantly until he stepped into the central chamber of the Academy, to which all hallways led to… and found the cause of the alarm.
Sitting on the floor in the middle of the room was a man… daylight from an opening on the roof shining on him… who rose to his feet as he noticed Azrael approaching, and showed himself to be much taller and muscular than the young Sith. Long, black hair flowed freely from his head, and his face was tattooed with dark lines that ran the length of it.
But most distinctive of all was the unlit lightsaber he was holding with an apparently cybernetic right hand.
"You have drawn me out of my training and seclusion early, Sithspawn," the man said in a deep voice that reverberated across the room… and leaving Azrael unable to hide his astonishment to the relatively accurate term…
His deepest secret had somehown been exposed!
"Do not look so surprised. You are awash in the Dark Side, all but glowing in it. Anyone halfway competent in the Force could sense it from afar," the man replied as his lightsaber came alive in his hand, the light from the bright green blade that burned from it clashing against the dark red coming from Azrael's, "Now I do not care whether you are in league with Sidious or Vader, just know that you will not leave this place alive."
And without another word he lunged at Azrael…
Azrael snapped out of his trance barely in time to parry away the incoming thrust of his assailant's lightsaber and keep his head still attached to his shoulders. abut the large man rolled fluidly and was immediately back on him. Green and red blades clashed in a wild, dizzying array of light, but within seconds, Azrael was back on the defensive. His attacker moved his blade so fast, so powerfully that Azrael could barely think… could only react and countered… and just barely keep himself alive.
And as with his encounter with Dren Kuu'la on Naos III, it did not take Azrael long to realize he was matched against a superior opponent. Whomever this man was, he was undoubtedly trained in the ways of the Force and, worse still, had significantly more experience when it came to lightsaber combat… seeing as this was the first time Azrael had actually encountered another being that wielded the weapon. And as he sensed how the man was slowly backing him up into a corner, a cold knot of fear began to grow in Azrael's stomach, as the thought that he only had a few minutes left to live began to take hold of him…
No, no, no… NO!
Every thrust from his attacker wore him down further, came closer to ending his life… and increased his fear. But fear was a tool of the Dark Side, not just to inflict on others, but also to feed off from. And so Azrael let if wash over him… the cold, unyielding dread it brought… and turned it into a newfound blinding hate for this man who had chosen so brazenly to end his life without provocation.
With the Dark Side pounding incessantly in his temples, Azrael vowed he would not succumb. Him, Darth Azrael, was going to be the next Dark Lord of the Sith, and he would not die here, forgotten in the Sith homeworld. His attacker might be his superior in lightsaber combat, but there was more to a Sith Lord that simply that. He commanded the Force… the Dark Side… and here, on Korriban, it flowed around him like a raging river, as deep as the deepest ocean.
He had traveled to Dellalt intent on testing himself with his life on the line, but, as much combat he faced and blood he spilled there, the Force had intended the lesson of that planet to be a different one.
Azrael had in turn traveled to Korriban with a vague plan to foster his knowledge of the Dark Side, and had in turn stepped into the very situation he had been previously seeking… This is what his ultimate test would be… Unplanned and unexpected, one on one against a superior opponent, one Force user against another with nothing but their skills and training at their disposal. The death of one of them to only possible result…
With a sweeping slash coming from his left, Azrael put up his lightsaber in a simple blocking stance, using the momentum of the impact against it to drop and roll to this right, using the Force to them push off the floor and propel himself upwards and away in a great leap just as his attackers green blade filled the place he had just been at.
Space now between them, Darth Azrael drew on the Dark Side like never before and went on the offensive for the first time since their battle had started. A bright cascade of lighting flew from his fingertips, aimed at his attacker's head. But his rival was fast and raised his lightsaber in time to block the assault… yet all but momentarily blinded by the clash of lights in front of his eyes, he did not notice Azrael's subtle movements with his other hand, which in turn hurled the remains of a stone statue towards him at the same time.
Azrael heard bone crack as the heavy stone smashed into his target, and he followed up with a powerful Force push that flung the other man backwards towards one of the chamber's walls. Yet again, the man had enough werewithal to react and wrap a Force shield around himself, which absorbed some of the impact, minimizing the damage to his body even as his breath was knocked out of him.
His assailant now vulnerable, Azrael re-ignited his lightsaber and rushed him… sensing the man's increasing pain and anguish was allowing him to also draw from the Dark Side around them. Azrael knew he had to capitalize and end their duel now. The man realized the same and began to raise his lightsaber and point it to the incoming Azrael, who was almost upon him and readying to strike.
And in that instant, everything momentarily slowed down in front of Darth Azrael. He could see many courses of actions, many results, many strikes and counterstrikes… and the one certain and immediate killing stroke, along what it would cost to strike it…
Time returning to normal, Azrael's blade was already sailing true towards its target as he braced himself for what was to come…
Now the Force works in mysterious ways… And unbeknownst to him, the man that had attacked Darth Azrael was one A'Sharad Hett, a former Jedi that had, up until that day, been destined to become Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Krayt… the future founder of the One Sith order and who, in not much more than another 100 years from then, would rule the galaxy as Emperor of a new Sith Empire as well as of the Second Galactic Empire…
The first of that dual occurence since Darth Sidious…
Yet it seemed the Force had decided for that vision of the future not to be after all…
His attacker lay dead, a lit lightsaber impaled on his forehead, yet it was Darth Azrael's screams of agony that filled the chamber… his left hand clutched at his face, blood slipping through his fingers… from where Hett's lightsaber had passed… streaming from where his left eye used to be.
Chapter 12
The pain had been excruciating… blinding… like an electric shock directly to his brain. So intense was it that, for a moment, Darth Azrael was uncertain whether the end of his life was at hand or not… Yet the rage that came with the pain drove him to almost subconsciously pull the Dark Side of the Force around him into him, wrapping it around his body like a protective blanket. It gave him the strength to regain his composure… to hold his body together… and to stand once more.
As he looked down on his vanquished opponent, even through the pain, he felt stronger that he could have possibly imagined. He had conquered an apparently unsurpassable threat, where failure would have meant death, while willingly and consciously sacrificing his body to achieve the necessary means. Feeling the Dark Side swell inside him, Azrael's achievement was recognized.
The flow of the Force felt clearer, stronger… as if he had gained a heightened sense of awareness.
Calling his assailant's lightsaber to him, gripping it in his own hand before stashing the prize away, he felt a level of confidence he had not known he lacked. Not overconfidence, but increased self-confidence… there was a critical difference… that would propel him to never quit, to never surrender, no matter the odds. All things were possible with the Force as your ally… if you were able and willing to push yourself beyond any preconceived limitations.
Now truly he was Darth Azrael… A Sith Lord forged under fire and blood… He was one step closer to being the Dark Lord…
And it was as Azrael fashioned a bandage for his face out of a strip of clothing from his would-be killer that he felt a call through the Force… A yearning coming from the Valley of the Dark Lords… intermingled with what felt like a familiar sensation…
He made his way out of the Academy, then through the adjoining mountains the facility had been originally carved out off, finally exiting at the mouth of the fabled valley. Heading the call from the Force… a beacon seemed more accurate a description… he walked under the shadows cast by the immense statues of the great Sith Lords of the past, feeling the dark waves of the Force that flowed from the numerous tombs lining the walls of the valley.
Much deeper in, Azrael came to a mausoleum on the far end of the valley. The slab of stone that blocked the entryway had been slid aside, the path inside now cleared. He descend through a dark and winding tunnel, for how long he could not say, only the call of the Force resonating within his being, the injured muscles and nerves pulsating with pain inside his head with every step he took… until finally, the sources of the remote sensations appeared before him…
First, the Force ghost of a pale, humanoid female he did not recognize and second, a ghost he did…
"Master Revan!" Azrael blurted out at the unmistakable sight of his former master and teacher, one he had not seen in over seven years.
"The Force is with you, Lord Azrael," Revan replied, not hiding from his voice the pride he felt in his former apprentice. Then, noticing how Azrael's remaining good eye darted between him and the other apparition, Revan added, "And this is XoXaan, a former Jedi and Sith Lord who came to Korriban with the original exiled Jedis over 7,000 years ago. From here, it was them who formed the first Sith Empire… And it was her apprentice you slayed at the Academy."
Azrael's instinctively began to call the Force to him as he saw the look of anger that flashed on XoXaan's face at the mention of this. Yet he stayed his hand as Revan's ghost touched XoXaan's pale shoulder and said, "Your cause is at an end, XoXaan… and it is not to be. The future of the Sith lies with Darth Azrael. Now, go finally in peace to the Netherworld."
And with those words, the image of the ancient Sith Lord slowly vanished into nothingness, leaving only (former) master and (former) apprentice in the dark chamber…
"XoXaan had thoughts like mine, yet in the end they were as different as they were similar. She did not seek balance, just domination. But with her apprentice slain, it continues to be all up to you…
And be warned, do not dwell on this place for too long, Lord Azrael, no matter how strong the temptation may be. It has much to offer a Sith… and I can sense you have already received much… but the galaxy anxiously awaits you. Just make sure not to overlook that item as you move forward.."
Azrael turned towards where Revan's pointed to and saw, lying within a carved out section of the stone wall, a small pyramidal object covered in runes…
A holocron…
"It was XoXaan's. She was well noted for her great skill in Dark Side healing. You will find it very useful."
With that said, Revan's ghost vanished, leaving the last of the three Sith Lords in solitude. Azrael walked over towards the holocron, picking it up and sliding into a pocket on his robe… the second unexpected treasure of his stopover… Unexpected…
Such was life, and as his had been since that night… eons ago it seemed … when he had felt the deaths of those that had been stationed in the second Death Star… and not much later when the dark figure came to his dreams… Darth Revan… Eons ago…
But now he commanded the Force… the Dark Side… No longer was he an innocent child groping blindly at it. He was a Sith Lord. And as unexpected as life was, he was more than ably equipped to handle it and thrive. But now, as his former Master had suggested, he did not plan to linger in Korriban any longer. He would return though, of that he was certain.
Yet now his path was going to take him to the Corporate Sector… as well as the 'Auerole's medical bay…
The trip to Etti IV was a slow one, as no direct hyperspace lane existed to it from Korriban. So Azrael had to engage his ship in a series of microjumps for most of the first half of the journey. At least that additional time allowed him to tend to his serious injury. But wanting to put his time to full use as well, Azrael forsook a stay in the ship's bacta tank for direct application of disposable bacta patches over his left eye socket. This would help with tissue regeneration and to minimize the emergence of scar tissue.
He also supplemented the treatment with what he gleamed from XoXaan's holocron, using the Dark Side to help in the healing process.
Still unresolved though was the issue of what actually to do about the eye… or more specifically, the space where it used to be. Resuming Corporation business suddenly missing an eye would create the excessive attention that Guelim Soran did not need and Darth Azrael did not want. But he had a few ideas, yet none could be implemented while within the 'Aureole. So Azrael would have to wait before attempting any of them. Yet the longer he waited, the harder physically any of them would be to implement.
Finally arriving at Etti IV, Azrael's focused returned to his Acolyte and her progress on the mission he had set her off on. And of course he was not overly surprised to find that, upon checking up with one of the local Bloodhands on Etti IV… following the events in Dellalt, Kenzei Danlut had dispatched small infiltration groups, manned by some of the original 'Hands from Lianna, to a number of key locations across the Outer Rim… he was informed that Dren already addressed the matters sent forth by Darth Azrael. She by now had moved on to Bonadan, the stripped-mined planed that also served as the primary port world of the Corporate Sector, and located on the furthermost end of the Hydian Way, for the next phase of her assignment…
The Hydian Way, as with the Permelian Route that ran through the Tion Cluster, was a critical hyperspace trade route that began at the Corporate Sector on one side of the galaxy and continued through the core to the opposite end. It was the only route that passed through the entire galaxy.
Landing the 'Auerole in Bonadan's heavily crowded Spaceport Southeast II… the largest of the ten ports on the planet… Azrael used the Force to call out to Dren, only to find her already waiting within the facility. His Acolyte met him on-board and, as always, seemed to be one step ahead of him as she answered before being asked…
"My stay in Etti IV was so productive that I decided to get a head start here. Those CSA guys are not so bad once you get to know them," she started with, adding a cynical tone to that last statement, "But it appears your own trip may not have been as fruitful… You are fortunate that looks do not matter that much to me, handsome."
Azrael could not help but smile at the nonchalant manner in which she took in his ailment, even as deep concern radiated from her, and had to respond in kind, "…Says the half-naked Twi'lek."
"I did not mean it about my looks, cyclops."
"Shutta," Azrael added and, as Dren mockingly bristled at his use of the Twileki slang term for a female of ill repute, he brought everything back to the reason they were here, "Now, please, tell me how it all went before I die of blood loss and fail to see my 'grand' schemes take effect."
The two spent several hours discussing the progress of each of their undertakings, and, although very pleased with what she had accomplished, the devious look that Dren gave him when talking about the matters in Bonadan made Azrael think that she was leaving something out to surprise him with later on… for better or for worse…
Their discussion then turned to Azrael's condition, and what to do in order to rectify it. A Sith Lord would not allow a physical impairment to hinder his effectiveness, but even as guile, stealth and craftiness were part of the Sith way, the fact that this Sith also had a significant 'day job' meant the matter had to addressed before going forward any further.
"Well, my dear Lord Azrael, you just might be in luck," Dren started off with while flashing her trademark insidious smile, "There is a neurology company called Neuro-Saav that is considered the industry leader in, among other things, prosthetic eyes. And I am quite certain I can get my hands on one of their better products fairly easily. Because as luck would have it, they are business partners with a certain outfit you might know off as the Tagge Company…"
Letting her words trail off implied how happy she was with her ingenuity, and was hoping Azrael would pick up the thread. Looking at her with only one eye made him less patient, but then again, he would not have her be any other way. So he took the less than obvious bait, particularly as the convenience of it all was nothing but amazing, "Yes, Tagge Company… as in 'run by the House of Tagge' Company perhaps…"
"And as in the parent company of Bonadan Heavy Industries…"
"And as in the Bonadan in which we are now located…"
"And where a certain Ulric Tagge, the President of TaggeCo, leader of the House of Tagge, and the primary reason we are here, happens to be located…"
"Yes, Dren, I can see how that all can be considered most fortunate… Yet seeing how some, if not most, of that information is not directly relevant to the reason you came here… would you care to tell me how you came about it and why?"
"As you well know, I aim to overachieve… and I have very specials ways to do so... as you also know."
Azrael just flashed her a conceding smile and said, "What am going to do with you?"
Her smile back was as wide, "With me? What would you do without me?"
Chapter 13
Two weeks later, in the massive Corporate Board Room located in the lush basement of Bonadan Heavy Industry's (BHI) headquarters… the planet's eroded surface, which was covered with factories, refineries and shipping docks, made the typical skyline-overlooking rooms undesirable… Santhe / Sienar Transportation (SSiT) Director and Santhe Corporation CEO-in-waiting Guelim Soran arrived to meet with his host, Baron Ulric Tagge, head of the powerful House of Tagge and President of the Tagge Company… and who did not seem to notice the almost imperceptibly different manner in which Guelim was looking at him out of one of his eyes.
Neuro-Saav's aptly named 'Hi-Sense Enhanced Eyes' were cybernetic organ enhancements that came complete with limited infrared and ultraviolet sensory systems, as well as high-resolution color-bit breakdown coordination. As their sales staff likes to say, 'you will wonder how you ever lived with your limited range of vision before.'
"I was very pleased upon hearing the news of your impeding visit, Director Soran," Ulric Tagge… a tall, dark haired human close to three times Guelim's age, yet still maintaining the rugged good looks from his youth… started off with, an unmistakable tone of sarcasm evident in his voice. "Ever since your esteemed matriarch last came to Bonadan, well over 10 standard years ago, to seal our current business partnership, no one from the Santhe Corporation has deemed us with the grace of their presence… I almost thought you had forgotten about us."
Azrael remembered those events well, as that was when he had first sneaked off to Dennaskar to train with Santhe Security while Valles Santhe was away off-world. And as he had been expecting Tagge's indignation, he ignored it and responded in his kindest, Force-induced tone, "A most unfortunate oversight, Baron Tagge. As age advanced on Lady Santhe, it became more and more uncomfortable for her to travel away from Lianna. And I can assure you my late wife's grandfather Philip would have been glad to make amends, but as you well know, he barely settled into his role as CEO when he was then asked to serve the greater good as part of the Greater Tion Ruling Council. And as you doubtlessly have heard, the civil unrest being instigated both in Lianna and other planets in our sector by the so-called Bloodhands militia group has kept him incredibly occupied."
"Yes, there have even been reports of those militants being spotted within the CSA, but I believe them to be suspect at best… Anyway, back to business. How is CEO Chariah? I have yet to hear from him either since he took office after Santhe."
"I bring you Limas Chariah's best regards. He would have loved to come, but his expedited transition to the CEO role of the Corporation has not gone as smooth as he would have liked. Having dealt with military-types for so long while in 'Security, he is finding career bureaucrats to be considerably more difficult to manage."
"I sincerely hope you do not find them as such when your time comes to ascend to office, Director."
"As do I. But having learned at the feet of Valles Santhe, I believe I shall be as well prepared as I can be."
"Indeed. I also hope your apparent taste for travel will not be curtailed as it has been with your predecessors."
"I highly doubt it, Baron, as I sometimes feel more at home in a starship than on the ground. And I have a feeling that you will be seeing a lot more of me… and the Corporation… in the coming years, making our partnership as prosperous and mutually-beneficial as possible."
Azrael sensed Tagge mulling over his words, trying to find any hidden meaning behind them… so Azrael knew the time was right to nudge him…
"And on that note, I had also been meaning to talk to you about a recent story I watched on the HoloNet news. I imagine the ExO's decree curtailing the proposed BHI acquisitions… because they would lead to an unfair monopoly was it? Unfair to the CSA monopoly perhaps... was extremely exasperating to you. I assume you filed a grievance and challenged the ExO's decision…?"
Azrael let his sentence trailed off and the Tagge Baron promptly picked up the lure, "It is without question that the ExO, as the highest authority within the CSA… and therefore the Corporate Sector… answers to no one man."
"True. Yet a man that represents a CSA senior signatory sponsor and sits on its Board of Directors… to say nothing of the backing of a private military of 5,000 ships and over a million soldiers… deserves a certain level of heightened respect and consideration."
"Perhaps. Although another one that commands… for starters… 500 Star Destroyers might say otherwise."
Darth Azrael suppressed a smile as the noticeable resentment in Tagge's voice, and pressed forward, "Quite antiquated ones as I recall, though. Hardly the case with your fleet… Or perhaps you were thinking of those top-of-the-line Dreadnaughts the CSA uses to ferry their troops around. They are what… two thousand years old?"
"Three actually. Although I imagine you knew that already... Are you suggesting something, Director?"
Coming to a critical point in the conversation, Azrael knew he had to proceed carefully and not appear to be pushing Tagge too hard… even if it would be to where they both wanted him to go, "No, simply having a discussion on the political climate in the Sector. One of the reasons I travel so much is to witness things first hand, especially in areas were the Corporation and SSiT has such large investments in."
This was all true and should, on its own, give him plausible deniability if needed, depending on which way the conversation went. Of course, that was not really what he wanted.
Now Azrael just needed to make it more personal, "And of course, anything that disturbs one of my partners, disturbs me… … And it sounds as if something is disturbing you, Baron."
The nearly imperceptible glance at the floor by Tagge, plus the momentary change in his aura as felt through the Force, let Azrael know the answer before it was even voiced, "It is not a well kept secret that the ExO and I do not see eye to eye on a number of issues… and I have made it known to him and the other Direx in the past. Yet I can only speak up so much and therein lies the problem. I do not have to tell you, Director, that I would not welcome a midnight visit by a squad of Espos nor an unplanned trip to Mytus VII. They call the prison there Star's End for a reason. Take one step away from it and you are basically standing outside of the galaxy."
And with all that said, Azrael knew the noose was tightening, "I do not believe that would be a necessary stopover. Are not the elections for the next Prex of the Direx Board going to be in a few months time?"
The Prex was an elected position within the CSA Executive Directorship Board, which had been implemented to counterbalance to the position and power of the CSA Executive Officer (ExO). The Board consisted of 55 members, known as Direx, and were officially led by the ExO but who, in theory, could be overruled by a combined vote consisting of the Prex and a majority of the Direx Board.
"So indeed you are suggesting something then, Director Soran."
If someone could have "looked" into the flow of the Force at that moment, they would have seen what amounted to a spear driven from Darth Azrael into Ulric Tagge. But it was not an 'attack' meant to disable or destroy, but to open up and uninhibit…
"I am not suggesting anything… but you are. I am simply focusing on the direction you obviously want to go down on."
After a brief pause and deep breath, Tagge replied, "And if I follow in this 'direction', what is in it for you?"
And now Darth Azrael knew he had him, "We are already partners. Your continued success will in turn benefit the Corporation. Just like in turn, any restrictions imposed on you affects us negatively. That is all… And of course, as your partner, we will make sure you receive all the appropriate support that is necessary to achieve your goals."
"For example?"
"Are you familiar with the Shaltin Tunnels, Baron?"
"Somewhat. That is the old hyperspace route between the CSA and the Tion Cluster, is it not? It connects at the Lianna System on your end, if I recall."
"You recall correctly. And in my humble opinion, they have been greatly underused over the last several decades. Yet I foresee the needs of the burgeoning Greater Tion… from armor suits to starship parts… would offer a broad new market to the CSA… and especially some of the TaggeCo holdings in those fields."
"A number of which, the Santhe Corporation has invested heavily on."
"Of course. Yet certain parts of the Tunnels are rife with lawlessness. But I feel the Corporation has the ear of the Ruling Council, as well as its best interest at heart. So I imagine certain assets of the Tion Navy… along with those of Santhe Security… could be spared to insure continued safe passage to and from our sectors."
Ulric Tagge stared at Guelim in silence as he rubbed his beardless chin, doubtlessly assessing all the unspoken yet implied implications that came from the young Santhe Corporation executive's statement. Finally, after a moment of contemplation, he said, "With the blessing of the Tion Ruling Council… and the Santhe Corporation… such a venture would provide a very dramatic and noticeable economic boom. Not to mention the positive public relations impact of being associated with the new golden child of the Outer Rim. As you well know, the CSA is thought of as nothing more than a brutal dictatorship by most outsiders."
"And surely the man that brings all of this about would be heralded as a hero… and become nearly unstoppable in the eyes of the people."
"… Thus all but securing a very successful campaign for Prex…" Tagge then added, so softly as if he was simply whispering it to himself…
And it was hard for Darth Azrael not to flash a triumphant smile. Not all battles where won with a lightsaber or with the Force. Sometimes all you needed were your wits… guile and ingenuity… and a bit of trickery.
That was all part of being a true Sith…
"So it seems we still have much to discuss Director, but it is something I am greatly looking forward to" Tagge then cut in, his internal musings concluded, a big smile now on his face. "But you have had a long trip and surely would like to freshen up prior to our executive feast tonight."
He then pressed a button on his desk and, shortly after, a striking, red-skinned female Twi'lek entered the board room, wearing black leather pants that appeared to be fused directly to her skin, and a matching black leather top, which left exposed all but the bare minimum considered to be proper by most galactic standards.
Ulric Tagge's eyes went to her and, for an instant, it appeared as if he had forgotten that Guelim Soran was even there. Then after a brief moment, he addressed Guelim without looking back towards him, "Director Soran, this is my… assistant… Leth'Me. She will show you to your accommodations. Ask of her anything you wish for during your stay… Well, almost anything."
"Thank you for your hospitality, Baron Tagge. I look forward to our further discussions, as well as enjoying your splendid amenities." And with that said, Guelim rose, and then slightly bowed to his host before falling in behind his escort as they left the conference room.
Now alone in the outside hallway, as Dren led Azrael away, the young Sith Lord asked of his Acolyte, "Leth'Me? … Red hot?"
"A bit egotistical perhaps, but I find that the name suits me. Do you disagree?"
"Not at all… I also could not help but notice the cynical manner in which he used the term 'assistant' when referring to you. I assume that is related to how easily you have been able to obtain critical information related to him and TaggeCo.?"
Dren continued walking and did not face Azrael when responding coyly, "Perhaps… You did order me to find out his secrets, whims, desires, hopes and fears… But not how to go about it." She then barely suppressed a laugh when adding, "I hope you are not already planning on killing him, Kenzei... I mean, Director Soran."
When Azrael did not take the bait and stayed silent, he sensed Dren trying hard to mask the disappointment that she was feeling. So he opened himself up to the Force and reached out to her as he said, "Rest assured that the Baron's life is in no danger from Guelim Soran… Although Kenzei Danlut would skin alive anyone that ran afoul of someone he loved. You just need to ask the murderers of Alandres Cal's family… if they were still anything left of them."
Although Dren did not immediately respond either, Azrael could feel the shade of her aura changing at the sounds of his words and his touch through the Force. Yet, she still had to ask, "And what about Darth Azrael?"
Azrael could read between the lines of her question, the doubt between her role as the Sith Lord's Dark Acolyte and as Azrael's paramour. Just like he had been for quite some time now, Dren was developing several different facets to her personality that were trying to coexist, but sometimes had competing interests. On wrong word by him, and he could lose one of hers… maybe both… and neither of those options is what he wanted…
So Azrael chose his words very carefully when he said, "He would say that future of the Sith Order… the future of the galaxy and the balance of the Force… is too important to get swept up in petty jealousy… particularly when his Acolyte is performing her duties admirably," and before she could reply, he added with a mischievous smile, "And he would skin alive anyone that ran afoul of her as well."
Her aura now beaming behind a serious front façade, Dren said in turn, "And you dare say what would you do with me? You are even worse than I am when you put your mind to it… Lord Azrael."
The tension lifted as they also finally arrived at his assigned quarters, Azrael answered in jest, "I am only trying to keep up with you, Dren. Thank goodness I have the Force to help me."
Catching a quick glance to ensure no one was around, Dren leaned over and briefly but fully kissed Azrael on the lips and said, "Do not worry, I will not run too far ahead, Kenzei… Now I must return, as the Baron is surely expecting me to report back to him… How hard do you need me to push him your way?"
"Barely at all. He must come to us willingly. We are looking for followers, not slaves."
"As you say… And when he is ours?"
"Why, we take over the CSA of course…"
Although the answer was a she expected, Dren could not help but flash him that devilish grin that drove Azrael crazy as she then added, "Of course… And of course, I can tell you are holding something back. What comes after that?"
"Afterwards? … You will see."
Chapter 14The ensuing days, weeks and months went as expected… chaos and all. The announcement of the candidacy of Baron Ulric Tagge for the office of Prex of the Board of Directors of the Corporate Sector Authority was met with a lot of pump and circumstance. All citizens knew of the proud heritage of the House of Tagge, and the significant role they had played in the creation of the current incarnation of the CSA, and welcomed Ulric almost as a returning hero. Tagge would ride this wave of support to become a symbol of a popular 'man of the people', upsetting the balance of politics in the region.
The Prex debates, even if private and only in the presence of the Board, would end being extremely one-sided. Tagge was armed with a vast amount of incriminating information on the sitting Prex that, as far as his rival knew, was confidential and well hidden… for a reason. What resources Tagge could have employed to obtain such information were unknown, but impressive indeed. And his demeanor, poised and controlled beyond levels he had previously shown in public made even his supporters jest that it was almost as if another being was tapping into his subconscious and flowing confident and calming feelings from afar… Ludicrous, of course.
But not the subsequent election, where Tagge was swept into office with an overwhelming majority vote… All as expected.
This was followed by the public show of support by the Greater Tion Ruling Council, praising the long history of service of the Tagge clan in public and private enterprises, and expressing hope that the wise election by their galactic neighbors would lead to an expansion in the commercial interaction between the two sectors, building on the already prosperous relationship between the Houses of Tagge and Santhe.
And not long after taking office, the newly elected Prex began outwardly criticizing the ExO and his record in office…
So also occurring as expected was the ensuing, middle-of-the-night Espo visit to Baron Tagge's home. The squad was clad in their identifiable… and intimidating… brown uniforms and armor, armed with riot guns and stun batons. The group consisted of eight troopers… on the smaller side for a regular patrol but more than enough to take a single rogue politician into custody.
The group approached the dwelling under the cover of darkness… almost in a cheerful mode at the prospect of the simple assignment… until the first blaster shot landed in front of them. The patrol came to an immediate halt and manned their weapons, looking for the source of the weapons fire. And after a frenzied look all around them, they found it…
Perched on ledges of the adjoining structures, the Espos saw a series of individuals poised over them, rifles at the ready and aimed in their direction… a perfect killing field… for their assailants that was. And to make matters worse, visible thanks to the bright light provided by the planet's two moons, were their attackers' identifying marks…
"Bloodhands!" yelled the patrol captain, a sense of dread creeping over him at the realization that the scouting reports that had flowed down from headquarters were true... the 'Bloodhands' militant group had come to the CSA… "Everyone, defensive formation!"
The troopers responded rapidly, forming a tight circle while keeping their backs to each other. The next attack would not catch them by surprise. Unfortunately, they were not equipped to counterattack. Their job was a simple snatch-and-grab, something they had done numerous times, and had planned accordingly for it… and not defending themselves against a group of snipers.
Of course, that did not mean matters could not get worse.
The figure came out from the shadows around Ulric Tagge's home and approached silently towards the Espos, who had yet to take notice...until one of the younger troopers looked back towards the residence and yelled…
"Kenzei Danlut!"
That announcement made the entire patrol turn and stare in disbelief at the figure standing before them, clad in a black, hooded cloak, with a blood stained T-visor staring back at them.
Fear, anger, frustration, submission flowed from them as Darth Azrael scanned the Espos through the Force, while noticing the many subtle fluctuations in their physiology through his cybernetic eye, further enhancing his expectations on how they would react.
The Espo Captain sensed their growing apprehension as well and attempted to retake control of the situation, "Do not be foolish, Corporal! Kenzei Danlut is a 7-foot tall cybor… ggaahh…"
The man's words were cut off as he grabbed at his throat, trying to find the invisible obstruction… as he was also suddenly rising unassisted into the air… while his troops traded terrified looks between him and the dark figure before them, and whose right arm was extended towards their captain, his hand as if it was gripping something that they could not see.
"That particular rumor is false," Darth Azrael then said to them, "As for the others…" he added before, with a wave of his arm, sending the Espo Captain hurtling through the air, his 'flight' halting when his body crashed with a bloody 'thump' against the side of a nearby structure.
The troopers, who had turned to their gaze towards their doomed leader as he flew to his fate, once more focused on the dark figure… more than one taking a step back when they saw the lit lightsaber now in his hand, its red blade illuminating the night.
Azrael then concluded his previous statement by saying, "… the reality is actually much worse."
Darth Azrael began to slowly walk towards the stunned Espos and, as lightning began to crackle from his fingertips, stated to them as he pointed his lightsaber at them, "Consider your orders rescinded. But anyone that still wants to carry them out… feel free to try."
None did…
Especially the one trooper that was detained for questioning…
A month later, the first TaggeCo merchant ship… transporting power station generators… left Bonadan, bound for Lianna. And at the jump point to the Shaltin Tunnels was a pair of Greater Tion warships to greet it, and escort it for the duration of the trip. At the time, Bonadan Heavy Industries' stock was at an all-time high…
Before the year was out, Starshipwrights and Aerospace Engineers Incorporated ships were shuttling large starship airframes to Tion shipyards; Arumed Co. was sending their biotech products to the former Cronese Mandate to aid in the long term recovery following the Tion-Cronese War; A DefenStar Limited luxury corvette brought their company's executive team to discuss planetary defense systems proposals to a number of interested Tion worlds, Lianna foremost amongst them; Eleven Star Marketing did a glowing piece on the new Prex, and Galaxy Tours, which had been in operation since before the Clone Wars, responding to popular demand, instituted the first ever CSA-Tion sightseeing tours.
Yet the CSA was not the only sector undergoing a major state of flux. On their capital planet of Chandaar, the relatively-newly-formed Greater Tion Cluster continued to undergo change and series of growing pains as it Ruling Council pressed forward to integrate the management of three, formerly sovereign territories, into one, much larger, single cohesive unit. The myriad of different languages, different customs and cultures, different psychological makeups, and different financial and commercial requirements made the task a daunting one.
Of course, the substantial boost in gross domestic income brought in from the developing partnerships with CSA made all of it that much more tolerable.
This in turn had led to a previously little known Santhe Corporation executive, one Guelim Soran, … who had only come to the notice of the public eye after the gruesome murder of his fiancée, which precipitated the hostilities that led to the Tion-Cronese War… being viewed as the catalyst of the newfound financial prosperity of the Cluster, and him becoming a pseudo-celebrity in the eyes of the Tion people.
From his humble background working as a hired hand in Biblack's Overhaul Shop, located in Lianna's working-class city of Lola Curich… no one seemed to know much of Guelim's time before that, yet no one seemed to mind either… From his tutelage under the late Lord Rodin Hlian Verpalion, to his meteoric rise through the Santhe Corporation after being taken under the wing of Lianna's late, great matriarch, Lady Valles Santhe, Guelim had shown that with enough drive and ambition, anyone could rise to greatness. Yet throughout, he remained humble and appreciative, never condescending or bitter… Even in the face of his great loss.
And for all that, the people wanted more and more of him. It was public knowledge that he was the handpicked successor to one day take over the Corporation. But as time wore on, and the fruits of his labor continued to benefit not just the private sector, but the public as well, the calls for him to run for public office continued to rise.
The Santhe family had always been viewed as the de-facto rulers of both Lianna as well as the former Allied Tion Sector. And even though Philip, the elder living Santhe, sat on the Greater Tion Ruling Council, the perception was that with neither his son Kashan nor his daughter Miri having had any male children, and with the eventual heir, his granddaughter and Guelim's fiancée, Karala dead, the line of the unofficial monarchy of Lianna was on borrowed time. Yet in Guelim Soran they saw, if not a Santhe, the next best thing… Someone handpicked by Lady Santhe herself and destined to marry into the family.
And so his star continued to rise in Lianna and the Greater Tion…
As well as the Corporate Sector…
"Soran, I don't know how you do it, but when you talk, people cannot help but listen!" Ulric Tagge exclaimed gleefully at his guest as they looked over the final draft of the three-way agreement between Tagge Industries' Shipyards Limited, Santhe / Sienar Transportation and IntelStar Company… a manufacturer of hyperdrive components… which would be exceedingly remunerating for all involved…
"Leth!" the Prex then boomed, "Bring Soran and I one of the Cassandran Choholl bottles so we can celebrate properly!"
And as his assistant turned and left their company to fulfill her master's decree, Tagge added "She looks just as good going as she does coming, does she not?"
"She certainly is quite striking," Guelim replied non-chalantly, right before Tagge crashed down on the floor as his chair suddenly fell apart, as if by magic… or an unnoticed wave of a (Force-powered) hand. This was followed by an awkward moment as the stunned Prex got back up, with the help of the 'concerned' Guelim, his good mood and bluster replaced by stunned embarrassment.
But the moment went as quickly as it came, as Tagge gazed upon the scantily-clad Leth'Me returning with the requested bottle of the fine liqueur and a pair of glasses. Quickly dusting himself off, the Prex muttered a curse under his breath about "cheap furniture" before walking to his assistant and saying, "Thank you, beautiful… Now Soran, let us drink to our health and continued success."
"To that, I have no objections… But if you think this is great, just wait," Guelim replied with a smile, "It gets better."
The previously-captured Espo's confession and video (edited for content) of the attempted raid at Ulric Tagge's home was made public by unnamed sources. The holo recording arrived early on the morning of the last day of 22 ABY at the Etti IV local branch of the Galactic News Network (GNN) and was being broadcast across the CSA by midday…
The No-Confidence Vote by the Direx Board to remove the ExO from office was held a week later, followed in quick succession by the required second round of voting and results ratification. And the search for the next Executive Officer of the Corporate Sector Authority was underway…
All the while, during all this time of political maneuvering, Darth Azrael, along with the Jedi Order, had been keeping busy as well.
While Azrael was spreading his web across the CSA, the Jedi Order was bolstered during the course of 22 ABY by the inclusion of Jacen, Jaina and Anakin Solo, the children of Rebellion heroes Han Solo and Leia Organa… presently the New Republic Chief of State… and, at the time, the only descendants of the late Anakin Skywalker… formerly known to the galaxy-at-large as Sith Lord Darth Vader… into their ranks.
Darth Azrael sensed ripples through the Dark Side during these events, their origin too vague to pinpoint the source, but enough to make him aware that significant events coreward had taken place. Yet as he vowed to begin to keep a closer eye on that section of the galaxy, his attention was diverted elsewhere.
The planet of Mytus VII was the outermost planet of the Mytus system, in turn the outermost system of the CSA. And its claim to fame was being the home of the CSA's maximum-security penal facility, Stars' End… So named for the planet's proximity to the outer edge of the galactic disk.
The prison itself was just as renowned for its advanced defense system, meant to securely maintain the several thousands of inmates housed inside and any foolish jailbreakers outside. The 40-story facility outer shell was made up of a molecularly- bonded armor covered by a powerful anti-concussion force shield, the combination of which could withstand a direct hit from a Star Destroyer.
And it could also give as much as it could take, as evident by its QuasarFire turbolaser turrets and v-150 anti-orbital ion cannon.
All in all, it was a formidable and impregnable fortress.
Actually, almost impregnable…
Darth Azrael rapidly looked through various computer records in the prison's lower administration levels, the bodies of the three guards, now formerly on duty, strewn about his feet.
Just a few hours earlier, Azrael had flown his old, yet significantly modified V-19 fighter into the asteroid belt that lay inside the orbit of Mytus VII and prepared to put the next step of his plan into motion. Soon thereafter, the supply ship emerged from hyperspace… just like the Utilitec manifest stated it would… and engaged its sub-light engines as it began the final leg of its journey to Stars' End. It was then that Azrael fired up the latest, and most advanced, of the technical improvements to his ship… its cloaking shield.
Developed just over 50 years ago by the now defunct Sienar Design Systems (SDS), the first production unit of this particular device model was, ironically, installed in the Scimitar… the personal ship of Darth Maul, the first apprentice to the last Dark Lord of the Sith, Darth Sidious. SDS would eventually shut down due to pressure from the Galactic Senate, and the supply of the prime material for the cloaking device, stygium crystals, would dwindle away, leading to the virtual extinction of cloaking shields.
But that did not mean the Santhe Corporation had given up development of the technology.
Sienar Advanced Projects Laboratory was a secret laboratory owned by Santhe/Sienar Technologies… a subsidiary of the Corporation… and, 40 years ago, had one of the most significant advances in not just starship design, but in galactic history, when they developed the famed twin ion engine (TIE).
Remaining mostly silent since, yet continuously working in experimental technologies, the group had recently made another major breakthrough… synthesized stygium crystals. Many had tried… and failed… due to the fabricated crystal's long-term instability. But when the technical breakthrough that overcame the problem finally was achieved, production began shortly afterwards.
Of course, had the Republic become aware of this fact, they would have… like their previous incarnation before the Empire… demanded to interpose themselves into its production. Hence, the development was maintained as highly sensitive and controlled information. Needless to say though, that was not something that would deter a Sith Lord… especially one that already worked within…
Deftly guiding his small fighter towards the much larger cargo ship, Azrael slid underneath the lumbering hulk and approached the planet undetected. Now the cloak by itself would have allowed this, but the matter of getting through the tower's deflector shield would have been considerably more difficult. But once the shield was down… however briefly… and he was on the other side, things were easy… and moved considerably faster.
Pulling away from the freighter as it prepared to enter the tower's lower docking bay, Azrael flew around the circumference of the massive structure. Once he was on the furthermost, opposite spot from the bay, he angled up the nose of the ship and skimmed up the surface of the tower, slowing down his speed in the process. Azrael then engaged the ships… new… magnetic landing claw and hard-fastened it vertically to the side of the tower. From there, it was a simple rappel down to the base of the structure and the row of airlocks located there.
A brief, lightsaber-aided, break-in and jaunt to the administrative levels, followed by an even faster putdown of the resistance encountered inside, left Darth Azrael free to act as he chose.
Which he now did. And his efforts soon yielded fruit, as his search of the digital records gave him what he came for… the location of several high-profile CSA 'instigators', 'undesirables' and enemies of state, most of which did possess certain levels of skills that, under the right guidance, could prove to be very valuable.
So with data in hand, Azrael headed to the turbolift shaft that would lead him to the detention levels. All prisoners were kept within stasis booth, in states of limited hibernation, so freeing those he came for would be timely. On his side though was the fact that the state-of-the-art computer system that basically ran the prison also led to a minimal number of personnel to be stationed inside at any one time… a couple dozen at most…
Barely enough to make him break a sweat.
Yet Darth Azrael was no longer one to take things for granted and, as he felt the tell-tale cold trickle on the back of his neck, he was glad he never let his guard down. Although if his Force senses had not alerted him to the coming danger, the shaking of the ground underneath him surely would have…
Standing his ground near a bend in the long hallway, Darth Azrael lit his lightsaber and assumed a combat stance, ready to pounce on the threat that was headed his way… Which judging by the way his head was pulsating, was going to be a significant one.
He was not disappointed as, moment later, an immense SD-6 'Hulk' Infantry Droid appeared before him. Standing nearly twice as tall as Azrael, while carrying a pair of heavy repeating blasters, supplemented with a pair of ion cannons, and with exterior armor as tough as a starship's hull, the Hulk was meant to withstand a direct assault by large scale infantry unit.
And remotely controlling it towards Azrael was a single CSA Security officer, clad from head-to-toe in riot armor, a confident look on her face behind the visor of her reinforced blast helmet.
Darth Azrael scanned her through the Force, focusing on her presence while his synthetic eye did a detailed scan of her vital signs. Azrael's first impression was that, like some owners and their pets, this trooper, with her broad shoulder and ample chest, clad in tough armor, had in turn taken on the look of her mechanical pet…
Although he would admit she was surprisingly attractive for an Espo.
The guard then said to Azrael in a confident voice, "If you think to scare me with your ugly mask and shiny glowstick, you need to try harder... freak."
Darth Azrael in turn smiled behind his mask as he replied while rehooking his lightsaber to his belt, "Do not worry, I have not even started trying yet."
At that moment, the Hulk lunged forward… and barely moved an inch as Darth Azrael met him head-on, arms fully extended as he lashed out at the behemoth with the Force. Sparks began to jump out its various joints as it struggled to wrest free from the invisible hands that were holding it in place, it powerful blasters shaking with effort as the Hulk tried to bring them to bear on its target.
Opposite the droid, Darth Azrael stood his ground, muscles tight as he pushed back as if locked in a physical embrace with his target, the Force flowing freely through every cell in his body, their mortal combat tethering on the edge of a precarious balance… Yet Azrael continued to smile. It had been quite some time since he tapped fully into the Force, opening the floodgates for it to come rushing through him… and it was as mind-blowing as ever.
Even as the two opponents appeared to be embraced in a standstill, it was not so. With the Force, anything was possible… even for a man to easily overpower an immense droid.
Satisfied that he had control of the situation, Darth Azrael increased the flow of the Force and began to push the droid back in a substantial display of power… yet sensed the Espo's demeanor remained as confident as before, if not more. It was then that the feed from his cybernetic eye picked up the infrared fluctuation in her right hand, revealing the hidden blaster.
After all that, the droid was really a distraction. A very capable distraction, but a ruse nonetheless to allow the guard to get the drop on him… Not bad… Yet not sufficient against a Sith in full command of the Force.
In one swift move, Darth Azrael threw his arms out… he seemed to have a blinding glow about him as he did… ripping the massive robot in two, the torn chunks slamming into the walls of the corridor with a ear-shattering clang just as the guard drew and fired… And by the time the guard's finger had fully depressed the trigger, he already twisted out of the way, the Force giving Darth Azrael a glimpse of where the shot was intended to go, plus the supernatural speed to avoid it.
As she stared aghast at the empty space where her target had been, the Espo barely resisted as the blaster suddenly flew out of her hand… and she followed shortly afterwards, hurtling through the air, her neck landing in the awaiting hand of the masked assailant.
The last thing the guard heard was Darth Azrael's voice as he said, "Good… but not good enough," which was followed by a brief scream as lighting coursed through her body.
From there on out, the rest was easy. In possession of the passcodes needed to access the desired stasis booths without triggering any alarms, Azrael quickly made his way up the tower and the expansive detention level. By the time he circled back around to the lower docking bay, Darth Azrael had a dozen released inmates in tow, and about as many guards taken down in their wake, and no one else yet had been the wiser.
Neither was the five man crew of the freighter Azrael had followed in, a lightsaber-wielding Sith being quite likely the last thing they expected to see that evening.
Knowing that even with the bay now under his control his time was limited, Darth Azrael had to operate swiftly. With a wave of the hand, he sealed all exits from the bay and turned to address his gathered assembly…
"Now I am certain you are all full of questions, and answers will be forthcoming… Know that you have been freed… for the time being… because each one of you possess as certain set of valuable skills… plus share a dislike for the CSA…
But understand that your freedom comes at a prize, and that you will not be leaving this planet if you do not accede to it… And as you have already seen, I am quite capable of ensuring that."
Darth Azrael infused his words with a touch of the Force, ensuring their meaning and his presence were clearly felt by all, but nothing more. As he had told his Acolyte, he wanted followers, not slaves.
"Now, do any of you know who I am?" he then added, knowing the chances were slim to none, as much of these prisoners had been…
"I do," a male Trianii… a felinoid species whose home planet Trian was located in the outermost section of the galaxy's Tingel Arm, bordering the Corporate Sector, and who had ferociously resisted the CSA's past incursions into their territories… suddenly answered from the back of the group, "What do you wish of me, Master Danlut?"
Azrael could not resist a smile from behind his mask, his ego and pride boosted by the extended spread of his fame… or infamy most likely, even if it was just one Trianii. Things were falling into place with an efficiency he had barely dared hoped for…
He hoped that, somewhere in the Netherworld, his former Master, Darth Revan, was aware of it…
"You will soon find out, Punctino Losohaff" Azrael replied to the Trianii, letting his satisfaction flow into the Force as he did, "As for the rest of you, my name is Kenzei Danlut. Now let me show you who I am…"
Without another word, Darth Azrael stretched his arms towards the group and reached out to them with the Force… strongly.
It was a variant of the battle mediation connection, in which Darth Azrael connected his minds to those around him. As the beings all had their attention riveted on him, their defenses down, it was quite easy to link their minds together.
Darth Azrael poured into them a series of memories and images… The underworld of Lianna… the guerilla tactics in Barseg… the execution of the Cadith Oligarch… The Liberation of Dellalt… the battle against the Espos in Bonadan… And after all, the same repeating image… a bloody handprint…
And when he finally pulled back and released them, they all realized what they were…
Recruits…
"And there is only one way for you to join the club," Darth Azrael said to them, then proceed to pull out a very shiny, and very sharp, dagger. He then placed the blade against the palm of his left hand, wrapped his fingers tight around it and then… pulled it out swiftly.
Left hand still clenched, blood slowly dripping from within his grasp, Azrael turned the dagger around and pointed the hilt towards the Trianii that had recognized him, the implication clear.
The Trianii took the offering without hesitation, grabbing the hilt with one furry hand and slicing off the palm of the other in one swift motion. Then, as the purple blood oozed out of the cut, he placed his hand against Azrael's outstretched one.
A moment passed and then, their blood blended, the Trianii pressed his hand against his furry face… leaving the intended, bloody mark in place.
Now it was technically true that what Azrael was proposing was not really necessary, and that all other Bloodhands, to this point, had self-applied their own symbol. But during his moments of meditation, as well as his continued studies of the arcane Sith knowledge stored within his two collected holocrons, an idea had come to him… and he was looking forward to trying it out. And if it worked as he hoped, then he would have just discovered a new weapon for his arsenal.
"Losohaff, Punctino of the Trianii Rangers, you are now a Bloodhand. We are all for one, and one for all…
And that is the prize of your freedom, for all of you. And as you have already seen, we are no friends of the CSA."
As silence spread across the hangar and Darth Azrael stared at the assembled group, he could sense anger, fear, confusion, resignation, determination and delight emanating from them. And when one of them, a female of the Brosin people… a Near-Human species from the planet Brosi, who for long had fought the CSA's forceful extraction of them from their own planet… walked forward, arm extended, hand open, Azrael could not help but allow himself a brief moment of joy.
The rest followed willingly, some looking forward to their conscription, while others, as expected, simply looked it as a way out of their extended imprisonment... But that was fine; they had their uses and would eventually come around. And if they did not, no one was indispensible.
And when the ritual was finished, Darth Azrael called out to them with his voice, "There is one final thing," and then with the Force.
In a flash, he was inside minds, their consciousness, their bodies… his blood inside theirs, even such trace amounts, offered an entryway not there before… They were Darth Azrael's, body and mind…
So as they began to file towards the now-ownerless freighter, Azrael left a message in each of their minds… "I will be with you to the end." Both encouragement and a warning… "But for now, your destination is the Issagra System… Or more specifically, Issagra Station. The ship has been pre-programmed to take you there."
"And what are we supposed to do once we get there"? asked one of the assembled, a Brosin female Azrael known to be a leader of that planet's underground resistance movement.
"My Acolyte will meet you and give you direction," Azrael replied, taking stock of them all, their continuing, shifting emotions, so as to cull the weak away from the strong when the time came.
"How will we find him?" the Brosin woman pressed, "That station is immense, and there must be tens of thousands of beings there at all time."
"Do not worry, she will find you," Azrael answered and then, thinking of Dren Kuu'la and the not-so-conservative outfits she typically wore, added, "And you will certainly know it when you see her. Now go, time is always of the essence."
"What are we to do with the guard?" the Brosin then asked, pointing to the still-alive but unconscious prison guard that Azrael had neutralized and that the group had been dragging along.
"(Or more to the point, what are can we do to her?)" asked a tough-looking Rodian in his natural language, "(I imagine she is quite soft and tender under that cumbersome armor)"
"Nothing," Darth Azrael replied in an authoritative tone that reverberated through their head, leaving no doubt that there would be no further discussion, "Take her and make sure no harm comes to her. I have a use in mind for her."
Nothing else needing to be said, the group boarded the cargo freighter and got ready for their upcoming trip to the heart of Corporate Sector territory, while Darth Azrael headed back to his cloaked ship, his own words ringing in his head as, especially for him, time was always of the essence.
After all, he had a major coup to stage…
Chapter 15Feeling the brief, yet unmistakable, ebb of the Force flowing to their target, then disappearing as quickly as it came, the Dark Acolyte could not help but voice her concerns…
"Did you just let them know we are here?" she asked, her usual sultry voice intertwined with creeping doubt.
"No," replied her master and lover in an almost matter-fact-of-fact tone, "just you. And only to one of them."
"I beg your pardon?"
"I gave him a small tap on the shoulder, indicating of the possible presence of a Force-sensitive female."
"You know, if you wanted to break up with me, there are simpler ways."
"No need to worry. It is someone else that will be broken…"
Following what had been a few years of relative calm, chaos returned to the New Republic in 23 ABY. A group of dissidents who had split off from the 'Imperial Remnant' following the peace accord of 19 ABY with the 'Republic, formed a new faction, deemed the Second Imperium. Their basic goal, to bring back the glory days of the Galactic Empire and Emperor Palpatine.
Led by Dark Jedi, and former Palpatine servant, Brakiss, the Imperium created the Shadow Academy, a mobile space station where a new generation of followers of the Dark Side would be trained in order to bring down the Republic and the Jedi Order.
During the interwoven four years, the Imperium had begun to attempt and disrupt the peace between the former Empire and the Republic, as well as openly engage Jedi and Republic troops. The end game finally came when the Imperium launched an all-out assault aimed at the Jedis, with the Shadow Academy station being sent to Yavin IV for a confrontation with the Jedi Academy on that planet.
Though the Dark Jedi had superior numbers, they were turned back by the combined Jedi and Republic forces, their Academy was destroyed, and Brakkis lost his life. This would lead to the eventual, and rapid, dissolution of the Imperium.
Yet, even indirectly, the Republic did not escape unscathed. Following the ending of hostilities, Chief of State Leia Organa-Solo resigned her position, being succeeded by the Councilor Borsk Fey'lya. With her older children, the twins Jacen and Jaina, having taken part of the battle with the Imperium, Leia decided she had given enough of her time to the Republic, and that her family, and their safety, would be her first priority. And although a most commendable sentiment, it left the New Republic with a very competent and accomplished, although yet equally controversial leader.
Although out in the deep Outer Rim, and on the Corporate Sector, none of these events were of much consequence. Ironically, as Anakin Skywalker's mother Shmi once alluded to, the Republic did not exist out there. And it was with amusement that Baron Ulric Tagge watched these events unfold as reported by his pirated feed from the HoloNet News, as he pondered his current good fortune and the reasons behind it.
Now a key reason Tagge had become as successful as he had was his ability to stay ahead of the competition. He was always proactive, rarely reactive, and it allowed him to keep surprises to a minimum. Yet that seized to be the case ever since he formally met Guelim Soran. Since that fateful meeting, it seemed like, more often than not, it was one surprise after the other.
Normally, that would not have been a course of concern. But this time, every surprise delivered great results, most recently culminating in his unexpected rise to the role of Prex of the CSA Direx Board. In turn, this dramatic rise in power and stature had allowed him, again with Soran's influence, to forge a key series of business partnerships that would greatly benefit both the CSA and the House of Tagge for years to come.
Yes, everything kept turning up even better than he could have hoped…
Until now…
The first actually unpleasant surprise was a feature out of Etti IV and shown on the HoloNet News where an attractive, redheaded woman was making an impassioned speech, filled with wild accusations, towards the cameras and increasing throng of onlookers.
But the real shock wave hit Ulric when, on closer inspection of the news feed, he was able to discern the identity of the woman… one that he recognized, but had not seen or talked to in years… his younger sister, Domina.
Close when young, Ulric and Domina had grown apart as him and his brothers began their unwitting, and ironic, involvement with both the Sith and Jedi Orders.
Orman, the eldest Tagge sibling and most protective of Domina, had clashed with Sith Lord Darth Vader as he sought to curry the favor of Emperor Palpatine, and displace Vader's place at Palpatine's side. This unwise approach led to Vader blinding Orman, burning Tagge's eyes off with his lightsaber, as a lesson to his rival.
Orman would never succeed in replacing Vader, and was eventually killed, along with his brother Silas, by a Rebel Alliance group during a civil war skirmish a few years later. Now suddenly the oldest living Tagge, Ulric was elevated to the head of the family, and received the 'blessing' of Darth Vader on his new role in the process… And it was this apparent camaraderie with the man that had, in her mind, ruined her older brother's life, began to drive the wedge between Domina and Ulric.
To make matters worse, General Cassio Tagge, the remaining brother, would also end up being killed during the Battle of Yavin as the Rebel Alliance, and specifically Luke Skywalker… unbeknownst to almost all to ironically be Darth Vader's son… destroyed the Death Star space station, where Cassio was stationed.
Distraught by the loss of her brothers, Domina retreated into a life of seclusion, only to be found by Ulric, who urged her to make peace with Vader and seek vengeance on Skywalker instead.
The thought of placating the Sith Lord was revolting to Domina, and she secretely never forgave Ulric for neglecting his family honor and siding with Vader. Yet in order to fulfill her other vow of vengeance, this one against Skywalker, Domina put her feelings aside and sought out Vader's assistance, who in turn discovered in her a trait that no other member of her family had ever demonstrated… her Force sensitivity.
Vader would foster her talents, which she would keep secret, and Domina would use them as she set out to enact her revenge on Skywalker and his rebel friends. Her plans though would fail, and Domina ended up on the run from the very same bounty hunters she had hired to help her.
And that was the last time Ulric had seen or heard from her, nearly 20 years ago… until now.
Yet here she was, two decades later, and the message she was spewing was even worse than Ulric could have imagined. Domina was claiming to come clean on all the past wrongdoings the Tagge family had done as they amassed their fortune. And she would start with one of the most egregious… the fall of the Balfed family.
The House of Balfed had been a powerful nobility within the Galactic Republic up to the start of the Galactic Civil War. That was when the rival House of Tagge framed them for crimes they did not commit, causing the Balfeds to fall from grace. Eventually, this led to the majority of the vast family fortune to be taken away by the then-ruling Empire, and the youngest surviving member, Captain Espan Balfed, was left with little inheritance and even lesser stature.
Their mother, Sanya Tagge, who had led the family during the time of the war, had planned and staged all the events that had led to their bitter rivals' downfall, and it had fallen to Ulric, and before him his eldest brother Orman, as head of the House, to take all steps necessary to keep their dark secret.
And when made public, further validity was given to theSE initially, apparently outlandish claims, as the media reported the long forgotten history of the foundation of TaggeCo… started by Tarzen Tagge over 200 years before… as front for counterfeiting and contraband.
Someway, somehow, Domina had unearthed what the rest of the Tagges had hoped to keep buried forever… something that only he knew… and was making sure everyone was listening. Even Ulric could not keep from following every word, just like those in the multitudes that were listening. As if Domina was expelling some sort of magical spell over them all…
Now the onslaught of media scrutiny and threats of legal action that followed Tagge did expect, and was prepared for… but certainly not immune… when the onslaught began.
But for the second and third unpleasant surprises, he was not…
First was the vow that Domina publicly made, in which she swore that she would do everything in her power to clean up the Tagge family name, while ensuring their current position of power and influence remained intact. And specifically, she would do so by running for the position of ExO of the Corporate Sector Authority.
Now the CSA ExO was selected from candidates that were outside the ranks of the Direx Board, and typically from one of the current Viceprexes. But in order to be elected, the candidate first had to be nominated, then seconded and thirded, then finally voted in by a majority.
Of course, Domina Tagge was not a Viceprex, but that was not a prerequisite for the post, particularly if the nomination came from the head of a CSA sponsoring company… which it was in this case… specifically Limas Chariah, the Chief Executive Officer of the Santhe Corporation.
Had Ulric Tagge not been drunk with success, he might have paid closer attention to some of the finer details within the business dealings that TaggeCo was brokering between the Corporate Sector and the Greater Tion Cluster… and between the CSA and the Santhe Corporation. Dealings that normally he would have overseen personally and in great detail, but that now he delegated to his assistant, Leth'Me, to finalize.
But had he been paying closer attention, Baron Tagge would had noticed that the Santhe Corporation had quietly become the latest CSA signatory sponsor, which meant that… after an exorbitant exchange of credits and merchandise between the two conglomerates… the Corporation would be allowed to both advertise and sell its products within the Corporate Sector, receive extremely discounted prices for goods and materials… as well as their CEO obtaining the right to nominate a candidate for the office ExO, should a vacancy of the top post ever occur.
And how fortunate that such an appealing candidate would emerge at such a needful time, combining powerful name recognition with a commendable sense of altruism, exposing her family's demons while vowing to cleanse their name.
"Was it difficult?"
"On the contrary, Kenzei, you would not believe how easy it was. Domina stood out like a beacon on Etti IV. I just had to give her a slight push and all the pent up feelings that she had held inside her for decades came flowing out like a tidal wave. Actually, I believe she wanted to do this. She just needed a little nudge to get beyond her inhibitions."
"And afterwards…"
"Well, she might be Force-sensitive but she did not realize once she opened up those floodgates it also gave me an unobstructed path to her mind. I can do with her whatever I please."
"Dren, you are wicked."
"I thought that was what you liked about me."
"I never said that I did not."
And for those that thought Domina was just a pretty face, hoping to ride the coattails of her famous family name, the books were opened on some well-known companies across the Outer Rim and the Corporate Sector… Park Holdings, Inc. and Leisure Mech Enterprises, as well as the popular Free-Flight Dance Dome on Etti IV… and were shown to find the sole female Tagge discreetly positioned on their Board of Directors… and where she had been a member of for quite some time… and which in turn had also allowed her to amass a large, yet diversified, fortune…
So by the time the final surprise came, it was more resignation that Ulric felt as he saw Guelim Soran enter through his office door…
"Director Soran… I cannot say I was surprised I was told you had requested a visit this morning."
Darth Azrael smiled to himself as he sensed the dread emanating from Tagge, as at the same time his cybernetic eye recorded the tightening muscles, increases heart rate and change in his breathing pattern.
So with his quarry on the verge of a panic attack, the young Sith replied, "Then I suppose you will not be surprised either by what I came here to tell you."
His words met by Ulric's further increased heart rate and stoic stare being enough of a response, Azrael pressed forward, "Needless to say, Baron, neither Santhe / Sienar Transportation nor the Santhe Corporation can continue their business partnership with TaggeCo under the current set of circumstances."
Ulric began to rise and made as if to reply, but was quickly silenced as Guelim raised his hand to silence him before he even started… as well as by the odd feeling that there was a something forcefully gripping his windpipe as he tried to speak.
Satisfied that Ulric had gotten the warning, Guelim continued, "Effective immediately, our companies' partnership is dissolved, and TaggeCo will go into a receivership overseen by SSiT. You will also step down as President, as well as resign as Prex of the Direx Board."
Seeing Ulric's pupils narrow and his hands clenching, it was obvious that Tagge was going from panic to anger… what else could have been expected? … So Azrael chose his next words carefully, "Now do not stress too much about making such hard decisions. Your Board of Directors has already agreed to the terms, and Vice President Rejjy is preparing to take over the reins. I believe your assistant has already travelled to Pellaxides to meet with him, and should be bringing him up to speed on most upcoming major dealings. So your resignation is merely a formality. Yet I assure the retirement package you will receive will make it all the much easier to go through with."
The muscles in Tagge's arms noticeably tightened, and a vivid mental picture of a scantily-clad Dren parading around in front of the overweight and overbearing Rejjy projecting from his mind, Azrael soaked all of it in and pressed forward, "As for your removal from the Direx Board, CEO Chariah is ready to call for no-confidence vote. But I have convinced him to wait until I had talked to you first, while giving him my assurance that I could convince you to step down gracefully…
You see, Baron, it would be very unfortunate if the CSA had to go through that process again in less than a year. Their public image has improved so much as of late that I am afraid such an unappealing public process would do nothing but negatively impact all that has been gained. So as you see, your resignation would be the best possible outcome for all involved."
"Oh, I am sure you are most concerned about my welfare and that of the CSA," Ulric was finally able to blurt out, the pressure released from his throat. With cynicism dripping from every word, as he struggled to stand, his bodily visibly shaking with contained fury, he added "Just as I am certain Chariah surely undertook all these actions by himself, with no influence from you."
Darth Azrael gave him his most impudent grin and replied, "Are you implying something, Baron?"
"I am not implying anything, you insolent rimmer, I am clearly stating it! I am certain it is you who is behind all of this! There is no way Chariah, who has been so withdrawn from the CSA, would have made such bold moves without you whispering in his ear! And no one from the TaggeCo board would have listened to any other outsider but you!"
"Well you can hardly blame me, Baron. After what your family did to the Balfeds, who is to say you would not someday do the same to me, or the Santhe family," Guelim replied as he innocently raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders… and drawing even more ire from Tagge in the process…
"Spare me your feigned innocence, Soran, as it will do you no good! It is finally clear to me that you have staged this from the start! A takeover is what this is!"
"Interesting theory. Do you have any others?"
"I do!" Ulric spat out in rage, "Do not think I have not seen the looks you give Leth'Me! You certainly have been dreaming of charging up her loading ramp from the moment you met her! She has not been the same since you entered our world, and now you have finally coerced that miserable shutta to be complicit with you and my wretched sister to violate my privacy and dredge up all these trumped up charges against me!"
And with Tagge now standing on the razor's edge, Darth Azrael gave the final push…
"She has never been yours… And if you ever disrespect her again, I will rip out your tongue."
A second later, Ulric had stepped over his desk and lunged himself at the defenseless Guelim… only to find himself, to his great disbelief, floating in midair just a few feet from his target yet neither falling nor advancing forward… as Guelim casually held an arm out towards him…
"By the way, Baron, I believe I neglected to mention that I am Sith, just like your family's former 'friend' Darth Vader, as as well, although you probably did not know, Emperor Palpatine. You Tagges do not seem to know any better when dealing with us… But do not worry, we will take very good care of Domina."
And with Ulric's heart now apparently ready to burst of his chest, Darth Azrael added, "Oh, and sorry about your suicide. I promise a great obituary will be written for you."
A second later, with a flick of the Azrael's wrist, Ulric Tagge's ill-fated leap proceeded… right out a window… into the warm Bonadan night air… and towards the awaiting ground several thousand feet below.
"Another one down, just a few more to go…"
Sensing Ulric Tagge's spirit passing into the afterlife a few moments later, Darth Azrael exited his former partner's office. From there, he would be headed back to the planet's main spaceport, where his ship was being prepped for the new voyage ahead…
For some time now, Darth Azrael had been sensing a call from the Force… and it was getting stronger by the moment. And with his primary business in the Corporate Sector now complete, it was time to heed the call of the Dark Side.
So as he walked up the ramp of the 'Aureole, Azrael called out to his faithful astromech droid, "R5, I am on board. Get the ship rolling and let's head to Ziost at top speed."
Chapter 16As the 'Aureole approached the uninviting pale blue orb that was Ziost, Darth Azrael, pondered on the dark history that, over millennia, had occurred there. Ziost was unmistakably a nexus of Dark Side Force energy… energy that Azrael was inexorably drawn and he enveloped himself in… as had many others before him.
Close to 28,000 years ago… thousands of years before the formation of the Old Republic, and hyperdrive technology was still in its infancy… the 'original' Sith species, not the modern 'followers' of the Order but a genus of Force-sensitive humanoids, fled their homeworld of Korriban during their war with the Infinite Empire of the Rakata… the dominant species of the galaxy at the time… and settled their new capital on Ziost.
The war with the Rakata gave the Sith their first taste of the Dark Side of the Force… which their antagonists had been experimenting with, but never fully mastered, for millennia… and fueled the growth of their own empire, which would last for over 20,000 years, and end with the arrival of Ajunta Pall and the other exiled Dark Jedi.
From that encounter would spawn the 'Old' Sith Empire, led not by the 'original' Sith but by the Dark Jedi and their descendants, and which would last close to 2,000 years… with Ziost being their seat of power.
Breaking through the upper atmosphere, Azrael flew the 'Aureole over the expansive ice terrain that covered most of the planet's northern hemisphere, then homed in on the massive structure that dominated the landscape before him… the ancient Sith Citadel.
The fortress had been carved out from the very mountain on which it now rested, and served as the empire's capital and meeting place of the Sith Council during their reign…
Immense in size, imposing and foreboding it stood, the spires that extended high from the massive central structure like a giant hand reaching to the heavens as if trying to escape the bleak landscape on which it stood. And on opposing faces of the fortress were carved larger-than-life likeness of Dark Lords Ajunta Pall… the first… and Tulak Hord…the greatest Sith lightsaber duelist… overseeing over all they surveyed, even in death.
But now, it remained abandoned, a long-standing memory of the Sith's Golden Age. Yet that was not to say that it had remained empty or devoid of power… and it was clear to Azrael that was where he needed to go.
Landing his ship on a large plateau near the summit of the mountain, Azrael donned his cold weather gear and began the difficult ascent to the Citadel… still several thousands of feet above.
Now through a lifetime of physical training, during which he had subjected to exposure to various extreme environments, Azrael's body had developed a level of strength and stamina that would be the envy of professional athletes. But the extreme low temperatures and strong, swirling winds brought on by the frigid winter season, threatening to ravage his hands and feet with frostbite wherever he touched or stepped on, were a completely new experience all together.
Azrael recalled how young Alandres Cal used to think the bleak, cold winters in his homeworld of Roon had to be the coldest in the galaxy, as he walked the streets of the city of Nime, the harsh wind relentlessly blowing in from over the Roon Sea. So Azrael could not help but perversely smile at himself as the blasts of the biting wind now slammed into him, seemingly permeating down to his very bones… How little he knew then… Such a long time ago… A lifetime…
But the harsh difficulty of the climb, and the near-blinding pain it made his body howl in, as usual, just made his desire burn fiercer. And with his rage, and the Force, fueling him, Azrael, who had started the ascent shortly after sunrise, reached his target before sundown…
Reaching the Citadel's main entrance and the frozen, massive stone door that barred the entryway, Darth Azrael slid it aside with a powerful tug of the Force without breaking stride. Covered in sweat after the treacherous climb, even though the temperature outside had been below freezing, with very muscle in his body throbbing, his heart and lungs pumping fiercely, Azrael felt vividly alive. As he stepped deeper into the large, darkened chamber, he opened himself fully to the Force and allowed the strong currents of the Dark Side to flow unimpeded into him, enhancing his body and every sense, bringing with it an even more heightened sense of awareness.
And now, Darth Azrael thought, he could deduce why the Dark Side had been calling him…
When he had dueled with fellow Dark-Lord-in-Training A'Sharad Hett in Korriban… ironically, or perhaps not so much, trained by the spirited of exiled Dark Jedi XoXaan, who had been part of the group that subjugated the 'original' Sith… Azrael feared that he was not unique in his pursuit to bring back the Sith Order to it full glory of old.
As the Force flowed through him, it brought with it the long lost memories stamped into the stone of this focal point of Dark Side energy… blurred images of the great Sith Lords of the past that had walked these halls; Ajunta Pall, Naga Sadow… even his former master, Darth Revan… leading him to a disturbing revelation…
Someone else had been here, inside the Citadel. And not thousands, or even hundreds, of years ago… but much more recently… and with intentions that, although similar, conflicted with his own.
Kneeling down, Darth Azrael removed his gloves and placed his bare hands on the cold stone floor, tapping into the Force and the past memories retained by the Dark Side… searching… looking… attempting to bring the past to focus …
And from the fog, details came… Azrael saw a human… a woman… She had been here to hone her power… To tap into the Dark Side… He saw the intent to follow a path not unlike his own…
When it had happened, he could not say for certain… Perhaps when Alandres was just a boy, still in Roon… But she was still out there, and had been keeping busy… The echoes of not one, but several apprentices, although now deceased, still resonated in the stone…
As did the name they referred to her by… The Dark Lady…
The Dark Lady of the Sith…
Following that revelation, Darth Azrael stood once more… There was yet another, attempting to mold the Sith Order in their own vision. But unlike the previous usurper, this one had a significant head start… She was a master, not an apprentice… And had styled herself the Dark 'Lady'; A status that must be earned, not given to oneself… The ruler of an empire… As he, Darth Azrael, one day intended to accomplish…
The immediate task before him now clear, Azrael recalled the words his master once uttered… "The Sith must be ruled by a single leader, the very embodiment of the strength and power of the Dark Side. If the leader grows weak, another must rise to seize the mantle."
This Dark Lady may or may not have grown weak, but Darth Azrael was the one that would seize the mantle of Dark Lord… and he intended to make that point abundantly clear to her… There could only be one, and whatever direction she was planning on taking the Sith on would not be the future of the Order.
Now the question was, how and where to find her?
And as Azrael pondered this question, that was when he felt it…
He was being watched…
Azrael exploded of the ground with barely a moment's thought, pivoting in the air as he ignited his lightsaber. His Force-enhanced leap dropped him a few feet away from where his senses had placed the intruder, as he assumed a striking stance in anticipation of combat. And as he focused his cybernetic eye to enhance the view of the pitch-black chamber, he found himself staring at… a giant eyeball…
The floating sphere slowly floated towards Azrael who, after getting over his initial shock and surprise, sensed no hostile intentions from it… Only to re-enter into shock and surprise as he also sensed the sphere appeared to have a sense of self-awareness…
It was during this time, when their individual consciousness touched each other's, that they began to communicate with one another, although no words were spoken…
"What are you?"
"I was called a Meditation Chamber by my former Sith masters."
Azrael was moderately aware of these chambers by his studies of Sith lore from his holocrons, and would have been taken further back by the mention of his Order if another more pressing question did not first loom to the surface of his mind…
"You refer to yourself as 'I'… Are you alive?"
"What is it to be alive? To be self-sustaining? To be self-conscious? To be able to die? By those crude definitions alone, it can be said that I am."
"Yet you were built. I can see your mechanical components… What was your purpose?"
"My masters intended me to teach their apprentices. To educate and protect them… To teach them how to fight."
"And when were you created?"
"I stopped keeping track long ago. But I can say with certainty it was millennia ago. I recall… a massive, devastating conflict between the Sith and the Republic."
The images projected into Azrael's mind by the sphere showed a colossal Sith invasion of Coruscant, the Republic's capital planet… followed internal Sith strife, one Sith battling against another… and a final annihilation of the Empire by the Republic.
Azrael knew the images could only represent one thing…
The Great Hyperspace War… The conflict in which the 'Old' Sith Empire had come out of hiding to attack the Galactic Republic… and had ended up being obliterated in the process, thanks in no small part to what always seemed to be a primary cause of their downfall… The Sith falling prey to internal dissent, instead of focusing on the one common enemy, leading in turn to their inevitable implosion…
It was an outcome that had also plagued his own master, Darth Revan, when he was betrayed by his apprentice, Darth Malak, even as their Sith fleet was under attack by Republic forces… But it was an error that Darth Azrael refused to fall into, even if tens of thousand of years of Sith history said he inescapably would…
It was also not lost on his that this account of events would also make the sphere close to 5,000 years old…
But before Azrael could continue his questioning, the sphere 'spoke' first…
"I felt your probing through the Force, and you are correct. Another one has been here recently. But unlike you, she was looking to be the teacher, the master … You emanate a different aura… One that is still in search of knowledge… that admits you still have much to learn before reaching your goal… And on that quest, I can help you… It is what I was built to accomplish."
"Do you mean…?"
"Yes, I have monitored her presence since she left this planet… And I can help you find her."
"But how? She left here decades ago, and is no doubt light-years from here."
"The flow of the Dark Side is like an ocean. There are ebbs and flows from myriad of sources, all intermingling. But they are all there. You only need to know what to listen for… And I have been listening…"
Two weeks later, Azrael guided his cloaked ship down onto the acrid surface of the dark, nearly lifeless planet of Vjun.
Last seen on the Outer Rim planet Belderone as she assassinated her former, and failed, apprentice Flint, self-proclaimed Dark Lady of the Sith Lumiya had maintained a low-key existence for almost a decade. During that time though, she had come in contact with a previously defunct cult of assassins, the Mecrosa Order, which had a long association with the Sith and the Dark Side of the Force.
The Order had once, thousands of years prior, been under the employ of House Mecetti, a nobility that resided within the Tapani sector, in the galactic region knows the 'The Colonies'. Following the Sith teachings of their founder, the Mecrosa became an elite cult of Sith assassins, some of which even rose to the ranks of Sith Lords in the service of Dark Lord Exar Kun during the Great Sith War, 4,000 years ago.
But the Mecrosa had all but been wiped out by the Jedi after the war, and been lost to memory… until recently.
During the height of the Galactic Empire, a group of Mecetti nobles, long obsessed with the ancient tales of the Mecrosa, resurrected the Order and filled their ranks with their younger members, whom they had trained for the task since birth. And as the basis for their teaching, they followed the wisdom contained within a priceless, ancient relic…
The holocron of Sith King Addas, the ruler of the 'original' Sith species, and the first Sith holocron ever made… almost 28,000 years earlier.
The holocron had most recently resided within the Jedi Library on Coruscant, but was stolen during the Great Jedi Purge by Mecrosa agent Nevil Tritum, who in turn had brought it back to Tepasi.
And with that treasure trove of Sith lore activated and pulsating like a beacon in the Dark Side, it inexorably attracted the attention of the most powerful Sith in its vicinity… Lumiya.
The 'Dark Lady' went on to spend a considerable amount of her time in hiding on Tepasi, drawing from what the 'new' Mecrosa had unearthed, from the holocron as well as from their own dark archives. The Order in turn deferred to her leadership, as with only limited Force skills and knowledge in comparison, they realized Lumiya was by far their superior.
But eventually she tired of the setting and their company… Plus when in hiding it was never a good idea to stay in one place too long or become too familiar with anyone. So she decided upon moving to a more secluded location.
So, after murdering all members of the Order on a night she had asked them all to gather so as to relay to them her future plans… one could never be too careful when in hiding… Lumiya, King Addas's holocron, as well as considerable riches that had been stashed away by the Mecrosa and their new Mecetti benefactors in tow, departed Tepasi for an overlooked planet in the Outer Rim that nonetheless was rich in Mecetti, Mecrosa as well as Sith history…
Vjun…
It was in Vjun that Viscountess Mireya was born, and where she honed her Sith Magic, eventually marrying High Lord Tritum XI of House Mecetti, setting the stage for the creation of the original Mecrosa Order; It was there that the planet's ruling family, the Malreauxs, had driven themselves, along with the population of Vjun, insane through their ill-fated experiments with midichlorians, leading to them all killing one another nearly 60 years ago;
It was there that Count Dooku, the infamous Darth Tyrannus, turned the abandoned mansion of the Malreaux into his private hideout during the height of the Clone Wars; It was there that another of Dark Lord Darth Sidious' apprentices, Darth Vader, built the foreboding Bast Castle to serve as his own private fortress and home, where he would study the Dark Side in solitude during the reign of the Galactic Empire. It was there, in Bast Castle, where the New Jedi Order had clashed with the Sith Cult the Disciples of Ragnos; It was there that Jedi Master and historian Tionne Solusar, would have discovered the long-lost lightsaber that had once belonged to legendary Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, as Vader had taken it with him after he defeated his old master on board the original Death Star, and then stored it within Bast Castle…
It was also where Lumiya had decided to taken residence on…
Now as it has been said before, the Force works in mysterious ways and the future is always in motion. And just as one moment Tionne Solusar and her accompanying Jedi apprentices were meant to find Kenobi's lightsaber, in the next, they were not.
As it ended up playing out, the group of mercenaries that would find it first, only to bet set upon by the Jedi, would in turn meet a grizzly end at the hands of the Castle's sole inhabitant beforehand. So when the Jedi arrived shortly afterwards, all they found was an apparently deserted mausoleum, devoid of any life or relics. They would leave empty-handed after a brief search, all while under the eye of a dark female figure, who would then go back to the solitude she so much preferred, and the old lightsaber back to the secured place where Lord Vader had intended it to remain.
But as we now know, she would not remain alone for long…
The red and orange sphere slowly and silently glided over the battered terrain, concealing its presence, and that of its occupant, from conventional detection as well as from Force-aided ones. Remaining untouched by the myriad of traditional defensive mechanisms and booby traps that surrounded the perimeter around the Castle, the sphere reached the massive, dark structure, then proceed to rise along the full height of the excessively tall central tower that dominated the construction.
Reaching the top, thousands of feet from the base, the sphere created an opening and its occupant deftly leapt out, landing on a ledge that protruded outwards from near the top of the spire.
Azrael turned back towards the sphere, only to sense it 'say'…
"From here on, it is up to you."
… and then watched it float away as silently as it had when it brought him here.
With the burden now clearly on him, Azrael turned towards the structure and ignited his lightsaber. He then proceeded to cut a small opening through the outer shell of the tower… of a diameter just slight wider than the average human male… and slid his way inside. Accessing then every light and thermal scanning function in his cybernetic eye, he began to make his way through the darkened corridors, in search of his prey…
Of course, it would have been much easier to use the Force for this task, but the last thing Darth Azrael wanted to do right now was to broadcast his presence prematurely.
Still, it was not long before he picked up a faint temperature transient stood out in the distance… and which become more pronounced as Azrael silently approached it.
Eventually, the hallway he was on ended as he reached a spiral stairway that lead down to a large chamber. And as Azrael gazed downward, he could hear the telltale sounds indicating the presence of another…
Now Azrael was well aware of the growing multiple personality affliction that had developed inside him. From the 'dead' Alandres Cal to corporate executive Guelim Soran, from underground leader Kenzei Danlut to Sith Lord Darth Azreal, they all differed from each other in many ways, and all placed a continued demand on his time and consciousness.
But one thing they all had in common was their unbreakable will to survive…
In his brief 23 years of life, he had encountered… both by accident as well as purposely… apparently insurmountable odds, being driven to a point where all but the most scant trace of hope should have been gone… And yet, he had always persevered. Call it luck, skill, the will of the Force… the reason was irrelevant, the results all that mattered.
He recalled his battles with Dren and A'Sharad Hett, two opponents whose combat skills exceed his own at the time. He had been outmatched both times, yet refused to let go… to slip into oblivion. And in the moment when these opponents thought they had him, when defeat was certain, as was death, Azrael had lashed out and survived.
And Darth Azrael's life was at a point that survival was not enough. He now needed to flourish... His future as Sith Lord, the future of the Sith Order… his Sith Order, which had yet to begin… depended on it…
As his target emerged from the shadows and came into view, he thought of a way in which he would do so…
Now that he had confirmed where Lumiya was, he could dispose of her in a multitude of ways that would not endanger his safety. An airstrike… bombing from orbit… an all out assault by Bloodhands… Throwing down thermal detonators until there was nothing left of her but a bloody stain on the walls…
But even though there were many things from the previous Sith Order he intended to change, many errors he intended to correct, there was one aspect that he would… that he needed… to follow...
The strongest will lead….
And below was not an untrained Force-sensitive or even a powerful apprentice… but by all regards a Sith Master… One who intented to rule the Sith Order with herself at its head, just as he would… The most powerful individual opponent he had ever faced. One that by all measures should be more powerful than he was… and should be able to defeat him…
And with those last thoughts running through his mind, Darth Azrael leapt into the emptiness below.
Chapter 17In what the surviving members of the Galactic Republic and Jedi Order would later refer to as the "calm before the storm", the galaxy at-large was, by most accounts, in a state of relative tranquility during the early part of the year 24 ABY.
There was chaos for certain, as that was an inevitable outcome of life itself. The anti-Jedi and anti-Human terrorist group the Diversity Alliance quickly formed and rose from the Twi'lek planet of Ryloth, with intent of exterminating humans from the face of the galaxy… and was just as quickly defeated by the combined forces of the Jedi and Republic.
The same was true of the Black Sun criminal syndicate, at one point the most powerful criminal organization in the galaxy, with their origins dating back over 3,600 years. Eventually, it had fallen into disarray and mostly collapse near the end of the reign of the Galactic Empire. But now, its current 'leader'… a bounty hunter by the name of Czethros… made a bold move to regain his group's past glory by sending all of his remaining operatives… which still numbered in the several thousands… to several key points across the galaxy to stage what would be in essence a massive coup of the Republic's commerce system. But his grand schemes were revealed before his plan could be put in effect, thousands of arrests were made, and the Black Suns were returned back to obscurity.
So in short, business as usual…
That is, expect on Vjun, where the future of the Sith Order was in the balance…
And had Lumiya not 'heard' a voice in her head telling her to turnaround, she had to admit that she would have been extremely startled when the uninvited figure suddenly dropped just a few feet from she was standing.
As the figure slowly rose to his feet, Lumiya was further impressed by the fact that the intruder had dropped from a considerable height above were they now were, yet landed softly and gracefully. Quite a feat indeed… But which would not be overly difficult to someone who had some level of command of the Force…
Sensing very little from the intruder, even as she probed him with the Force… which in turn was disconcerting as that would almost imply the figure was applying an extensive level of Force concealment, an ability that could only be manifested by highly-skilled Force users.
She took a few more steps towards him and could see that he was dressed almost like a Jedi, clad as he was in a long, flowing robe over a simple, form-fitting cloth garment underneath… Very similar to a Jedi indeed… Except for how much darker the entire outfit was, almost like the presence he exuded… particularly from the blood stained T-visor that was visibly under his hood. The Force might not have offered any insight at the moment, but her eyes certainly did…
At the same time, Darth Azrael keenly observed the woman… or at least what used to be a woman… that slowly walked towards him.
Most of her head and face were wrapped in a light brown, fabric headgear that only revealed her intense green eyes, and which descended down her neck and back into a flowing cape. But it was the rest of Lumiya that took in most of Azrael's attention…
Purposely concealing his presence in the Force, he relied on the detailed information his cybernetic eye could gleam… which in this case was both extensive and surprising. The woman's body appeared to be more machine than organic, and had several mechanical enhancements, particularly her arms, torso and thighs. This surely would give her both increased speed and strength Azrael deduced, not to mention an increased tolerance for pain. Plus the pulsating energy that clearly flowed along the length of her arms pointed to a likely nasty surprise that lay in waiting there…
All and all, she would be a nearly overwhelming opponent… just as Darth Azrael expected.
He then slid off his mask and casually tossed it aside… and Lumiya could not hide either her surprise at how young the stranger was, nor a slight twinge of disappointment to escape from her. Apparently, Azrael sensed, she had initially thought he might have been a real threat to her, but had now revealed himself to be just a thrill-seeking youth.
Well, he surely would hate to disappoint her further…
"I understand that at some point you felt high enough about yourself to self-anoint the crown of Dark Lady of the Sith," Darth Azrael started with at the same time he began to slowly allow his presence to seep back into the Force, and begin giving Lumiya a glimpse of what awaited, "Now I may be young, but I do know that is not a title you just pick up when you feel like it… You must earn it."
Sensing what felt like a concentrated glow of Dark Side energy suddenly and slowly begin to emanate from her mysterious visitor, Lumiya halted her advance so as to try to take better stock of him. But even as her instincts told her to be cautious, the man's accusatory tone rankled her very being, demanding a response in kind, "And am Ito understand then that you have some foolish delusion to do so, you insolent whelp?"
"Well you surely have shown yourself to be incapable of the task."
Lumiya, to her own surprise and against everything her training had molded her into, was taken aback by the sheer insolence of the stranger and could not help but snap back at him, "Now listen to me, you insignificant…!"
"No, you listen, Dark Lady… I take it the name really comes from your fondness to hide out here in the dark, letting life pass you by, and not with any real claim to the throne of the Sith empire… Can you remind me how long you have been hiding out here with your tail in between your rusty, mechanical legs?"
Seeing the sparkle of anger that flashed in Lumiya's eyes, Azrael knew he had pressed just the right buttons… and was fully prepared when she lashed out him in anger.
Yet, although driven by anger, Lumiya attacked him as she was, a battle-tested Sith Master, and came out him not in blind rage, but with deadly and efficient control, striking fast as lightning.
But just as quickly, Azrael twirled out of the way of her direct assault, deftly slipping off his cloak and throwing it in the air towards her so as to momentarily mask his movements, emerging from his roll a few feet away, ignited lightsaber in hand… While his shredded coat, or what remained of it, gently floated to the ground, victims of Lumiya's own hidden surprise… her weapon of choice…
A custom-made lightwhip…
A lightwhip was a very rare variation of a lightsaber, which emitted a beam of energy that was, rather than a straight blade, a long, flexible tendril that exceeded several meters in length. But while typical lightwhips only produced single flexible blades energy, Lumiya's… which she had built drawing from the dark knowledge she had obtained while in Ziost… generated three separate ones.
Its extended range permitted Lumiya to attack her enemies from several feet away, making it extremely difficult for a close range counter. She could also control the directions of the tendrils so as to simultaneously attack three different spots either vertically or horizontally with one general thrust, limiting her target's range of motion.
It was an amazing, and monstrous, weapon that could easily overwhelm most opponents when wielded by a skilled user… which needless to say, Lumiya was…
She came at Azrael relentlessly, as he in turn dodged and parried from a distance, nipping away at the tips of the tendrils, quick as a reekcat… brilliant sparks filling the air as the energy weapons came in contact with each other…
"The final body part I will slice off is your throat, so the last thing I hear from your disrespectful mouth are your cries of pain," Lumiya spat at Azrael as she continued to whip the energy tendrils at him, making him continue to backpedal across the narrow hallways of the castle.
"Like the cries you made when your advances were spurned by Luke Skywalker? Or perhaps when he kicked your ass afterwards? … Do not look so surprised. Everyone has heard about that," Azrael responded mockingly, making Lumiya to charge him with a hate-filled, two-hand slash of her whip, pressing forward, trying to pin Azrael against a wall and finish him off once and for all. But in her rage and intent to finish him in as painful a manner as possible, Lumiya did not fully notice the welling up of the Dark Side that was happening within him… fueling his movements, driving his already powerful muscles with infinitesimal precision.
Now Azrael knew the power he was drawing on, at the rate he was doing it at, could not be kept up endlessly, and his body would sooner rather than later collapse… But he had no intention of keeping up the dance forever…
In response, Lumiya thrusted her whip forward, sending the energized tendrils in a wide, looping arc, hoping to finally ensnare Azrael, who quickly was running out of room to run…
But as she attacked, he timed her movements and backflipped out of the area where the slashing whip was sweeping through, his feet 'landing' flat high up on close wall behind him. Azrael then propelled himself into a sideways twist, landing out of Lumiya's reach… as well as landing in a proper Niman fighting stance…
Giving his foe an insolent smile, Darth Azrael said to her, "That was a nice warm-up. How about we get serious now?"
Previous duels had pushed him to the… at the time… limits of his abilities, and Azrael had to admit and accept his shortcomings. But that did not mean he could not get better…
And get better he had, training relentlessly on lightsaber and hand-to-hand combat with Dren and the large assortment of battle droids at Guelim Cal's disposal from various Santhe Corporation venues, as well as honing his Force-wielding skills, pouring through every bit of information he could from his collection of holocrons… and now he was ready to put it all to the test.
Suddenly, and for the first time in their encounter, Lumiya was actually taken aback when Darth Azrael threw away all reservations and finally released himself into the Force… and it felt as if she was caught in the middle of a supernova… And the revelation that came to her actually gave her a moment's pause…
This was not just some hotshot Force-user enamored with Sith lore, trying to make a name for himself. It was someone with full, and quite substantial, control of the Force… and of the Dark Side… at his disposal. And for a split second, an almost imperceptible twinge of concern… fear? … came to her… He might have even bring more power to bear than she did…
But Lumiya had squared off against some of the most powerful Force wielders in the galaxy, was one of them herself, and she refused to be scared off. So she edged towards Azrael again, determined to show this young, yet admittedly and surprisingly powerful, upstart a thing or two…
As the energy tendrils whipped rapidly towards him, Darth Azrael stood his ground this time and then, just as they were about to tear into him, with a deft flip of his left he sprung his next surprise… a second lightsaber… the one that had belong to A'Sharad Hett… that had been tucked away in a discreet forearm sleeve.
With the tendrils almost on him, Azrael twirled the bright green blade in his left hand and entangled the first two tendrils as he parried away the third with the red blade on his right hand. He then pulled back, making the tangled whip tight… and in one short, powerful motion, severed the two extensions with the red blade, leaving the whip with just one functioning tendril…
"Uh oh."
Bristling at the impudent taunt from her assailant, Lumiya retracted the ends of her whip, leaving out the one functioning strand, which in turn solidified, making her weapon closer to a 'standard' lightsaber. She then held it with both hands and assumed a defensive stand as she said to him, "Not bad, and yet you still have accomplished nothing."
Darth Azrael simply gave her a wide grin and replied, "I have not tried to yet… Except perhaps making you shake in your boots."
He then put his second saber away and added, "Might as well give you a fighting chance."
Lumiya clenched her jaw, letting Darth Azrael know his goading was having the desired effect… Being a Sith was all about trickery, subfurtuge, manipulation… Even against, as history had often shown, by one Sith on another.
As she charged him, Darth Azrael finally let loose with everything he had. His plan was for a massive power output, following in what his Santhe Security trainers had always told him… The longer a fight lasts, the more chance there is for you to get hurt. So strike fast, strike hard and end it that way.
And that he did…
Azrael met Lumiya's charge with a blinding flurry of Force lightning erupting from his fingertips, accompanying the deadly, crimson red swipes from his lightsaber. The Force flowing through Azrael like never before, everything slowed down around him. At first, he could see multiple outcomes for a fraction of a second before they happened, helping him guide his actions. And still he continued to draw on the Force, with every thrust and parry, every lightning blast, every Force blast…
Until he moved so fast that he began to generate more future outcomes, instead of reacting to them… understanding dawning on him, even in the midst of a pitched battle, of how every action he took led to future consequences… and in turn be able to guide them, create them, mold them to suit his needs.
And on the other end, Lumiya had years of experience and was defending herself thoroughly as the Sith Master that she was. But the truth was, her abilities had reached their 'ceiling', while Azrael was still peaking during their duel… And he was fueled by a passion, a fire to conquer, that greatly outmatched hers…
So when the final thrust came, as if playing Dejarik, Lumiya knew the endgame was coming many moves before it happened.
Azrael blocked Lumiya's strike up high, allowing him to stride up to her and press his body against hers. He then put left hand on her hips… from a distance it almost would have seem like a sensual embrace… before letting loose with a powerful lightning discharge into her legs and shorting out every major in the cybernetics in those extremities.
Lumiya's body dropped to the ground as she let out a scream of pain… yet surprise somehow still manage to sip into her faltering sense of awareness as she noticed that she was apparently hovering over the ground.
That was until she noticed Azrael's hand was still touching her leg… and fear began to set in as she realized she was totally at his mercy.
"Yes, you are."
The next thing Lumiya saw was her right hand, still tightly holding the hilt of her whip, bounce on the stone floor… shortly after being severed off the rest of her right arm.
And next… and finally… was the wall that rapidly sped towards her… or was it the other way around? … after Darth Azrael flick of the wrist.
Lumiya, at the last moment, managed to wrap the Force around herself and cushion away part of the impact, yet her body still slammed into the stone wall with such power that it ended up partly buried inside it.
Darth Azrael slowly made his way towards her, fingers still crackling with energy and lightsaber still at the ready, ready for any tricks that the veteran Sith, no matter how improbable, might have at her disposal. And, on a level, he was not disappointed as he felt Lumiya, broken and battered, scanning him with the Force… and surprisingly forcefully at that… looking for something, anything, that she could use against him.
And upon garnering a small… allowable… glimpse of his intentions, Lumiya, blood beginning to drip out from the corners of her mouth, spat out, "You fool! … You cannot… extinguish the Sith that… easily…"
Darth Azrael, now only a few paces away from her, regarded her carefully as he replied, "You misunderstand me, as that is not my intention. It is you that I came here to extinguish. You and everything you have built that has perverted what our Order should be."
"There are more of us… Hiding, waiting… You might… kill me, but they… will kill y…"
Lumiya's threats were suddenly caught short as, in her debilitated state, she could not defend herself against the harsh, direct mental attack that followed…
"Then tell me where they are so I can properly introduce myself."
"K… K… Korriban… They are hiding in… Korriban."
Darth Azrael tightened his grip on Lumiya's mind then, until a clearer picture began to emerge… Arid surface… a dry river bed… a camouflaged fortress…
"Thank you," Azrael then sincerely said before the tip of his lightsaber blade pierced both Lumiya's skull and her brain…
At that instant, Darth Azrael suddenly felt a brief, but powerful, spell of lightheadedness… A major disturbance in the Force… His actions had once more changed the future… significantly… But he felt only a sense of relief, of purposes, washing over him… Whatever he had done, whatever future he had set in motion… or in turn, cancelled out… was for the greater good of the Sith…
And had he been able to look into that now disintegrating timeline… the direction that galaxy had up until then been headed towards… he would have seen that Darth Caedus, who as Jacen Solo would apprentice under Lumiya's tutelage, would no longer rise to be the next Dark Lord of the Sith… Would not plunge the galaxy into the conflict that would become known as the Second Galatic Civil War, which Caedus would instigate to fulfill his destiny…
And Jacen Solo, eldest grandson of Anakin Skywalker… Darth Vader… would not perish as a result at the hands of his sister, Jaina Solo…
And Mara Jade-Skywalker, wife of Jedi Grandmaster Luke Skywalker and son of Darth Vader, who was to be the first to find out Solo's dark identity, would not perish at the hands of Darth Caedus. And their son, Ben Skywalker, would not go through the harrowing ordeal of a Sith apprenticeship as Caedus's unwitting pupil…
Plus all with now have a substantial part in the new future to come…
The many paths of the Sith and the Jedi were continuing to splinter until only Azrael's remained…
Yet now he thought of Korriban. The only time Azrael had been there, just over two years ago, he had lost an eye, and nearly his life, but gained significant perspective that had, in effect, led him on the path of 'cleansing' he was now on…
And now he was going back…
But before that happened, Azrael scoured the castle, emerging after an exhaustive search with King Addas's Holocron, Obi Wan Kenobi's lightsaber, and a number of data discs in which Lumiya had stored a significant amount of information regarding her Sith studies…
All priceless…
Finally, he retraced his steps, made it back to the top of castle spire and stepped outside… Only to find the meditation sphere, floating on air and waiting for Azrael at the same spot it had dropped him off earlier that night. Apparently it had sensed the conflict was over and had come to retrieve its passenger…
Darth Azrael began to walk towards it, but halted before entering. He looked up and stared at the southern skies and fixed his gaze on the bright, red twinkle over the distant horizon…
Korriban…
Yes, the endgame was drawing nearer…
Chapter 18"They are almost here…"
"So is the endgame…"
The 'hidden' Sith began to suspect something might be amiss when one of their members, the human Dark Jedi Welk, did not return to their base for over a week. He was a former member of the Shadow Academy and had taken part in the battle on Yavin IV against Jedi Academy. His master at the time, the Nightsister Tamith Kai, was killed during that assault, and Welk ended up under the tutelage of another Nightsister and Sith Master, Lomi Plo.
The Nightsisters were a group of Force-wielding 'witches', which got its start in the planet Dathomir and used the Dark Side of the Force. The most talented of them were sent to apprentice in the Shadow Academy, but their ranks were severely depleted after the fall of the Academy and the defeat of the Second Imperium….
And it was Lomi that first brought his apparent disappearance to the attention of the group. They had begun to informally refer to themselves as 'One Sith', seeing their strengths flow from their combined numbers, which, when together would operate as one, and not under the 'Rule of Two' mantra that had been initiated by Darth Bane and followed, and dissolved, during the reign of Darth Sidious after 1,000 years as the Sith's guiding principle.
The One Sith would rule as just that… One.
Yet at this time, their burgeoning group was still small in numbers, consisting of only eight members. But most important of all, it still lacked clear direction and focus. It lacked the drive of a true leader, even if it was among equals, to hone them into a sharp fighting weapon of the Sith… And little did they know that the man that had been destined to be such a leader, A'Sharad Hett… the future Darth Krayt… had been slain on that very planet not too long ago, and his previously-destined arrival to them would never come…
Although there was another that was coming for them.
But at this time, their immediate focus, or at least Lomi's, as one of the more senior members, was the potential reduction in their ranks. Yet not all were as concerned as she was for the loss of her one-time apprentice, as some of the other Sith pointed to her that Welk was known for his free-will and it would not be unlike him to simply take off without telling them where to… only to surely return, just as unannounced, not too long afterward.
Of more immediate concern though, the others argued, was the lack of recent communication from their most senior and experienced ally, Lumiya. Although her styling herself as the 'Dark Lady' of the Sith was not conducive to the united front they wished to build, she had still proved invaluable in the early, formative stages of their collective. And her current communication silence, plus her missing a preset meeting time… which was quite unlike her… concerned them.
So they agreed to send their most recent member to attain the equivalent level of Sith Lord… a young human female named Dician, who also served as their primary agent when operating away from Korriban… to pay Lumiya a visit.
When Dician vanished without a trace, the group reached a united level of very deep worry…
But it was when the gatekeeper to their compound, a Togorian named Morto, disappeared… or more specifically, his body disappeared as his severed head was found at the entrance to their complex… that panic began to set in among the remaining five 'Sith'. Togorians were a feline-like warrior species, and Morto a particular large and muscular specimen with a substantial control of the Force. That someone or something could dispose of him with apparent ease was very unnerving.
Particularly disturbed was Lomi Plo, who had taken Morto as her lover, and vowed to inflict untold horrors on whomever thought to prey on them.
Sneaking in and out of the shadows, striking hard and fast before his targets knew he was there, Alandres felt as if he was back in Roon, running through the streets of Nime. The traitorous members of the Pel Gang had found that out the hard way, as had Governor Gaff.
But the thoughts of those days long ago also brought back the memories of the beating, torture and murder of his family, the wound in his soul that would never heal.
Peace is a lie…The horrific sight inside his home still haunted his dreams, and thinking of it now made his hands bristle with Dark Side energy as he felt the sadness and rage building up inside him.
… there is only passion.
And those had brought those horrors to him and his loved ones had released something they could have not foreseen, and paid with their lives…
Through passion, I gain strength…And those awakening powers would fuel him, carrying him forth to his goal, his destiny, as he grew more powerful with each passing moment…
Through strength, I gain power…He recalled traveling across the Outer Rim, from planet to planet, from city to city, training, fighting, building, destroying, sacrificing… until finally Darth Azrael rose from the ashes…. Through power, I gain victory…
Until his plan could finally be put into play, all the pieces set in motion, staging events years in the making, guiding the Sith Order… his Order… back to its lost glory… as he saw it fit…
Through victory, my chains are broken…
And he gazed at the fortress in the distance, he could sense the dread emanating from it like a foul stench, even as he maintained his presence hidden… But he would not remaine hidden from these pretenders for long… They were calling the Dark Side to them, praying for their salvation… But what was coming for them was anything but that…
The Force shall free me…Darth Azrael looked at his three, newly collected lightsabers lying on the ground and savored the feelings… the passion… that those old memories on Roon had brought to him… then and now… The fear, the anger, the hate…
And just as quickly, Azrael tucked them away, burying them deep in the corner of his soul where they had… and would continue… to reside. There was a time and a place for everything, and this was not the time to dwell long about childhood memories.
So as he shifted his gaze back to the 'Sith' fortress, the relapsed feeling still swirling around inside him, Azrael recalled something he had heard during his travels, which was credited to some old Jedi Master. It said how fear led to hate, which in turn led to anger, which in turn led to suffering…
Darth Azrael thought he could not agree more… Suffering indeed. As he began to move out, he almost felt sorry for his unsuspecting targets in the valley below…
Having defeated Lumiya in one-on-one combat, Darth Azrael no longer felt the need to prove himself to himself, and would engage these new targets directly. His power… his abilities… their heightened level… were no longer in question. All that mattered now were results. Which meant he felt free to use any, and all, means at his disposal to achieve his goal…
Hunkered down inside their fortress, Azrael knew that the other 'Sith' would not wander out freely as they had before, and certainly not by themselves. So the solution was simple… He had to get inside an apparent impregnable facility, where a group of powerful Force users, already on the alert for the presence of a threat, were residing.
Piece of glaze-cake…
The first explosion rocked the structure so hard, some of its inhabitants thought, for a second, that it might have been an earthquake. But just as quickly as the blast dissipated, their shock was replaced by anger and indignation… and as hard as they tried to mask it, concern… at the sheer affront of whomever was accosting them to now take make such a blatant, direct assault. So lightsabers in hand, the group headed towards the source of the blast… the entrance of their fortress… to survey the expected damage… and hopefully deal some out themselves.
Unfortunately… for them… this did not help them notice the much slighter disturbance nearer the back of their hideout…
The purchase of the Drever Corporation, an Outer Rim weapons manufacturing company, by Santhe Security was missed by most financial analysts, and was dismissed by the few that did not as simply a minor acquisition by the firm to better supply their operations.
Which was true from a certain point of view…
One of its products, the Phoenix Plasma Punch, was a cutting tool that utilized concentrated plasma energy beams to cut holes through virtually any material, including magnetically sealed surfaces. The only drawback was that the massive energy requirements to fuel the tool usually led to a maximum of 10 minutes of operation, followed by up to six hours to recharge.
Fortunately, Darth Azrael did not foresee needing his 'Punch again anytime soon…
Slipping into the darkness, Darth Azrael concealed his Force aura and let himself be guided by his 'Security training and the input from his cybernetic eye. The 'Sith' here were in a state of heightened alertness, and even a minute disturbance in the Force would likely give away his position… something he was not yet planning on doing. The next few steps would take time and patience, and he was too close now to hurry things along.
But after the 'Sith' returned from their inspection of the wreckage at the entrance of their compound… which was more rubble and twisted metal than anything…. without finding anything of use in their hunt, they slowly began to settle back in to their normal routing… or as close to it as a hunted prey could… as things began to speed up.
The two apprentice-level members were disposed inside their quarters with barely a whisper escaping them… the human one suddenly finding himself with a sharp blade through his neck, lodging itself deep in his throat, while the electric shock from the stun baton that struck the Twi'lek on its lekku sent him instantly sprawling to the floor a moment before the end came.
But their deaths did reverberate enough through the Force to let the surviving trio know their own end was near…
The three moved together now, advancing on Darth Azrael's position. They sent the least powerful of their ranks… a Nautolan, and the approximate of an apprentice… in front, while the other two… a Human female and an Arkanian male… followed behind shoulder to shoulder, hoping their stalker would be drawn first to attack the weakest one…
Pathetic…
But what happened next was not… The plasma expelled from the grenade ignited into flames as soon as it made contact with the oxygen in the air. Suddenly, the hallway was filled by a bright light and intense heat… and just as intense screaming.
Arkanians had pure white eyes that were capable of seeing in infrared light, but were also quite sensitive to sources of extreme heat. So the Arkanian Sith's sudden cries of pain were justifiable. Also, very distracting…
For a master-level Force user… like Lomi Plo for example… a distraction might involve just a fraction of a second. It is also, on the other hand, all the time another 'master' would need to decisively press that advantage.
The spear of midnight black was a complex, yet powerful, Dark Side Force power to master. The user would forge an invisible spear composed of Dark Side energy, which in turn could be used as if it were a real, physical spear… And with the very same effects on the intended target.
To anyone looking though, the holes that suddenly appeared on Lomi's chest and back would have seen to materialize out of nowhere… The blood that came out of them though would have seen real enough. And standing next to her, the Arkanian Sith might still have had trouble regaining his vision, but he had no trouble sensing her death in Force as her body dropped to the floor.
Nor did Darth Azrael had trouble sensing the subtle shift in the Force, harkening yet another change in the future… Lomi Plo, and Welk of course, would now no longer crash their ship in the Unknown Regions; would no longer come in contact with the insectoid Killik species, and therefore not create the secretive and violent 'Gorog' nest… The nest that would have eventually led their species on a conquering push into the region of the galaxy dominated by the Chiss Ascendancy, leading to the conflict that would end up being remembered as the 'Dark Nest Crisis' or the follow-on, bloody and devastating 'Swarm War'.
But now, none of it would happen… Nor would then the first step that Jedi hero Jacen Solo had taken towards his own path to the Dark Side during that conflict… a path that would one day lead him to become Darth Caedus… but much of that was yet to be, and might still be…
And watching the entire, brief, series of events, frozen in her tracks, was the Nautolan 'apprentice.'
"Kill him," was the simple, yet stern command from Darth Azrael, and moments later, the Arkanian, now headless, fell to the floor next to the body of his 'Sith' counterpart.
Azrael was now at a pivotal moment. The true, immediate threats had been defeated, and the remaining 'Sith' was at his mercy and so terrified of him, that she was also completely under his control. She posed no threat at all to him… even as the voices from the Sith's past rung inside his head, as if they were all there again, waiting to pass judgment on him…
You will have to do things that others will consider shocking…
Yet all it could take was one slip-up to bring down what he had built…
I do not waste my teachings on the weak…
Her immense, dark eyes bore into his, pleading…
Those who ask for mercy are too weak to deserve it.
But unfortunately, the future was too important to leave to chance… And pity, as well as mercy, was in short supply…
Someone who has known anger, hate... and despair
And then, somehow, she could tell that Darth Azrael had made his decision, "Please, no…"
"I truly am sorry… Go to the Force."
And then she was no more…
Darth Azrael collected all their lightsabers then, as when in Bast Castle, he meticulously swept through the compound. He downloaded years worth of information from the pretenders computer databanks for later review before finally coming across the prize of the lot, whose existence he had gleamed from Lumiya's mind… the holocron of Darth Vectivus… now the fourth in his growing collection.
Darth Vectivus, prior to becoming a Sith Lord, had been a shrewd and principled businessman, whose self-discipline is said to have allowed him to remain balanced without succumbing to the lust for power that doomed many of the Lords who came before him.
If there was a better parallel to Guelim Soran's life, Azrael had yet to find it…
Making his way then out of the fortress, Azrael felt the difference… felt the rise in power and strength… felt the Dark Side flowing so freely through him… felt the flow and ebb of the Force, of the future, changing… shifting… with every thought and every action…
Like Darth Bane, over 1,000 years previously, he had cleansed the Sith Order. But unlike when he did so, Bane's Order… his Rule of Two… had been dead… or mostly dying… for decades by the time Darth Azrael came to finish it off. The seeds from that Dark Side tree had begun to sprout, only to be pruned by Azrael.
And he had finally decided he would not follow the Rule of Two. It would not be as 'simple' as a single superior master to rule with single subordinate apprentice to blindly follow him. Nor would he instill a military style hierarchy, with a myriad of ranks and positions, as in the Brotherhood of Darkness that preceded Darth Bane's rise to power.
Or even seek to breed Sith in every corner of the galaxy until they were legion, like his master Darth Revan. Even Revan had recognized the folly of that course of action, and set Azrael on the path he was now on.
As a boy in Roon, Alandres had once heard his father say that only fools do not follow history and therefore were bound to repeat it. And based on tens of thousands of years of history, that would make the Sith fools of unimaginably epic proportions.
That is why his view… his vision… would transcend the Sith and what they had been before…
He was now truly Darth Azrael, Dark Lord of the Sith…
And the time was almost ripe for his empire…
EpilogueThe year was 25 ABY, and Darth Azrael had a vision just before it started. He sensed the epic bloodshed that was to come. He could only describe it as an immense black hole, swallowing everything in its path…
Everything but the reborn Sith Order… Because Dark Lord of the Sith Darth Azrael would not allow it to happen.
Still, the future did not bode well for the rest of the residents of the galaxy.
They came from beyond the galactic rim, and tore into the Republic and the galaxy with a ferocity and bloodlust the likes of which had never been seen before.
The Yuuzhan Vong came bent on complete subjugation and conquest, achieving their means through total destruction, displaying no fear, pity or remorse as they cut a bloody path through the galaxy. They viewed possession of the galaxy as their destiny; a reward for the long search after the ruin of their own one… and nothing would stand in their way.
Ill prepared for such an onslaught, the Galactic Republic crumbled under it… Two years after the 'formal' start of hostilities, the capital planet of Coruscant had been captured and occupied; the Republic defeated and decimated, its reigning Chief of State, the Bothan Borsk Fey'lya, perishing in the process.
The Jedi Order was almost as helpless as, to their dismay, the Vong were, unlike every other living organism they had ever encountered, 'outside' of the Force. The Jedi could not sense or affect them, rendering their usual advantage through the Force almost useless.
Yet through their great training and discipline, and primarily thanks to the leadership of their Grand Master, Luke Skywalker, the remaining Jedi managed to hold their own and triumph in a series of critical encounters.
But it was still too little, too late, and in the end, they had to retreat as well…
And by the end of 27 ABY, the alien Yuuzhan Vong had established themselves as the dominant species in the galaxy.
History would not show any 'official' involvement by the Sith during the Yuuzhan Vong War. But if you knew where and what to look for, you would see that was not the case…
Darth Azrael became aware of the arriving storm as he sensed the deaths of millions as the Vong used their alien, biological technology to crash the moon of Serpindal… only a stone's throw away in galactic terms from Korriban and Ziost… onto the planet's surface during the conflict that would forever be remembered as when legendary Rebellion hero Chewbacca lost his life.
The black hole of his vision had finally arrived to drag the galaxy into its depths… Yet, it appeared that fortune was still on Azrael's side even in the light of such tragedy.
The invading aliens were so determined to gain control of the galaxy by conquering its core that the Outer Rim… or at least the Greater Tion Cluster and Corporate Sector… was mostly overlooked, allowing Darth Azrael what the Jedi so desperately craved… time to act.
Both in the best interest of his short and long term plans…
Pointing to the bumbling of the Republic, Guelim Soran pleaded and convinced his pseudo-grandfather-in-law Philip Santhe, and in turn the rest of the Tion Ruling Council, to militarize guardianship… and passage… through the Perlemian Trade Route.
And with the Tion mobilizing to secure entryway into their sector, it was not long before… after some very brief urging during a visit by Guelim… that the CSA and ExO Domina Tagge followed suit, similarly securing their end of the Hydian Way.
If the invaders ever decided to turn around and attempt to take the Outer Rim, they would find it a very difficult prize indeed. But that did not mean Darth Azrael would sit still and wait for fate to take its course.
As always, he would make his own…
Kenzei Danlut mobilized the Bloodhands, both active and sleeper cells, into a cohesive fighting unit. They went forth in keeping the peace among the frightened populace, as well as repelling the various cursory exploratory units the Vong began to send into the Tion Cluster after they solidified their control of the Core.
Suddenly, what many had seen as terrorists and criminals were welcomed as defenders… and the sign of the bloody handprint began to become associated with salvation and protection. And when the inevitable, major incursion finally came, Darth Azrael was ready.
Hostilities had been ongoing for nearly four years and, although the Vong still ruled the galaxy, it had come at a great prize to them. Their fabled Warmaster Tsavong Lah, who had delivered Coruscant to his people, had died the previous year at the hands of Jedi Knight Jaina Solo during the Battle of Ebaq 9, where half of Lah's fleet, the bulk of the Vong forces, was destroyed.
With that improbable victory, the factions composing the remaining pieces of the Republic began to slowly turn the tide, further solidified by the entry into the war by the Imperial Remnant as well as the Mandalorian Forces, under the command of the newly-annointed Mandalore, the infamous former bounty hunter Bobba Fett. But still, their enemy was relentless and would not be deterred. And it finally turned their gaze towards the Greater Tion Cluster.
Warmaster Nas Choka… who rose to lead the Vong warrior caste upon Tsavong Lah's death… ordered his forces towards the undefended planet of Caluula, positioned within the former Tion Hegemony, planning to conquer it and utilize it as a launching point towards the more important planet of Mon Calamari, whose massive shipyards were vital to Republic's war effort.
A full Vong fleet arrived at the Caluula system, outfitted with capital and slaver ships, gunboat 'analogs', a clustership carrying one of the powerful Yammosk… the Vong telepathic war coordinators… and, most terrifying of all, a monstrous Ychna leading the assault. The Ychna itself was a bio-engineered, space faring serpent-like monster of colossal proportions, which fed on both organic and inorganic material alike…
But their arrival was not quite as the Vong had intended…
Abruptly pulled out of hyperspace by Interdictor-class cruisers at a spot premature to their intended entry point, the Vong fleet found themselves surrounded by the entire might of the combined Greater Tion fleets…
And floating not too far away, in orbit around one of Caluula's moon inside a peculiar looking red and orange sphere, was Darth Azrael…
Using the meditation sphere's powers to augment his own, Darth Azrael was in a state of deep Battle Meditation, touching the minds of the various ship commanders as they prepared to launch their assault. The Tion fleet had the element of surprise and their numbers were greater than the invading Vong, but there was no way Azrael would leave this to chance.
"Destroy them all," the powerful thought went out, and it began…
The battle raged on and casualties were heavy on both sides as the invaders fought with the same tenacity that had become their trademark since they first made themselves known, while the Tion fought just as fiercely… the Dark Side of the Force, unbeknownst to them, flowing through them… to protect their homes. If Caluula were lost, the Vong would be able to use the planet to easily stage attacks to anywhere on the Tion Cluster. So when Azrael was finally able to locate the ship on which the Yammosk was hidden, he called in his ace in the hole to finish it off… a hidden CSA fleet.
With their war coordinator dead, the Vong attack soon began to unravel even as they had been gaining the advantage. And with the Interdictor ships still blocking their exit, those that could headed for Caluula in order to inflict as much damage and destruction as they possible could before they died. And Darth Azrael was more than willing to grant them their wish…
"Dren, they are headed for the capital. Inform the troops to hold back until I arrive. I will lead the forward assault."
"Will do, Kenzei… Um, is that wise?"
"From a safety standpoint, no. But the men need to know that I will not ask them to do anything that I will not do first."
Azrael had previously heard from boisterous individuals the term "drowning in blood", but had always thought of the phrase as simple, exaggerated hyperbole. That was until that particular day… when he actually had to drown some Yuuzhan Vong in pools of their own jet, black blood as part of the ground combat.
The Vong had seen him coming… Azrael made no effort to hide himself… lit lightsaber in hand, and screamed in hatred, "Jeedai!" as he rushed towards them.
It was understandable why the Vong would make such a mistake… But they soon corrected themselves on their assessment of the attacker when he slammed into them with ferocity to match their own…
In the end, after much blood, death and suffering, the battle ended a hard fought victory for the Tion forces in space, where the entire Vong invading fleet was destroyed, as well as on the ground, where no invader was left alive…
And Kenzei Danlut became a true legend after the Battle of Caluula…
It would be a few months later when the over-four-year war would finally come to an end during the Liberation of Coruscant, when a Jedi strike team managed to infiltrate the Vong headquarters during the pitched space battle in which both sides committed to a final, all or nothing clash. Once inside, Jedi Grand Master Luke Skywalker killed Yuuzhan Vong Supreme Overlord Shimrra, and Jedi Knight Jacen Solo killed the Force-wielding Vong mutant Omini, who all this time had been the power behind the throne, controlling Shimrra through the Force and making him, and in turn the Vong, do his bidding.
But the brutal war had created a wound of unimaginable proportions, as nearly 365 trillion sentients died during those scant four years.
The second Galactic Republic had also been shattered, and the Jedi Order heavily impacted. They were left scarred by the loss of so many, chief amongst being young Anakin Solo, Grand Master Skywalker's nephew and Darth Vader's youngest grandson, who many had seen as the heir apparent to the mantle of the Order's leadership.
But from the wreckage of the devastated Republic rose the new Galactic Federation of Free Alliances, which was composed not only of the remnants of the Republic, but also incorporated the independent Imperial Remnant and Hapes Consortium, and securing a closer partnership with the Chiss Ascendancy, generated for only the second time in recorded history, a galaxy-spanning galactic government… the first since Palpatine's Galactic Empire.
Yet in the Outer Rim, where politically most worlds were affiliated with the new Galactic Alliance, things were not as such. Because what had been said before for the Republic now applied to the Alliance in that it "does not exist" out there…
But the same could not be said about the dark empire that was brooding in the shadows, expanding with every passing day…