Korriban, Jedi Civil War.
The two opponents squared off in the darkness of the tomb of Naga Sadow, their red blades almost the only source of illumination.
Both fighters were skilled, and both had earned, through the treachery that was customary to Sith life, the right to prove their superiority.
This was their final test. Both were at the end of their rope. Both had entertained thoughts of wanting to die during this final trial. And both knew it was now every man for himself.
One was a tall muscular human, his bald head glistening, sweat pouring down his bronzed skin. His thick brown goatee itched and he wished he could scratch it as he fought for his life against his opponent. He tried to focus his sulfurous yellow eyes away from the glare of his Sith light saber and onto the movements of his opponent, a Rodian by the name of Gwai. A Makashi user, Gwai had always demonstrated a penchant for precision attacks in the time the bald man had been in the academy. Gwai was also a bastard, who delighted in torturing ordinary citizens in the nearby colony. Nobody would miss this guy if he died.
Had this been any other area, the bald man noted with no small amount of discomfort, Gwai might very well have lasted a little bit longer.
But this was close quarters, and Gwai was a bit claustrophobic. The tomb of the infamous Naga Sadow was no place to be claustrophobic.
Too bad for him. On top of that, he was also tired. The bald man landed a furious series of vertical chops against the Rodian, triggering a desperate move that the bald man had waited for during their duel. Gwai tried to duck and somersaulted over his knees
The bald man somersaulted over a strike at his knees and ended up behind the exhausted Rodian. With an air of finality, the bald man drove his blade deep into Gwai's back, killing him instantly, twisting the blade upward just to be sure.
The bald man heard clapping from a distance away. He turned and saw the heavily inked human Master Uthar and the sultry Twilek Yuthura step out of the shadows, also inked. Both were wearing slightly fancier versions of the academy uniforms, the cuffs and lapels being more reddish than usual.
"Well, done apprentice. You have proved your superiority, and as such, you are now a full Sith. I welcome you to our ranks," crowed Uthar.
"You have done much better than I expected. The Force favors you. Gwai's technique was superior, but you have none the less succeeded as all true Sith do: by using your head," Yuthura proclaimed, her violet gaze defaced by an almost jealous envy.
"So, do I get a Sith name?" the bald man asked, ignoring the backhanded compliment.
"That will come later, apprentice. Declaring yourself a Sith before the Dark Lord has approved of you is tantamount to open rebellion-something that must be done carefully. Do you understand, young one?" Uthar asked.
"I do. The strongest must lead. That means Darth Revan."
"Only for the moment," Yuthura snorted, distaste at the mention of Revan's name evident. The Dark Lord increasingly had fewer friends and many, many, people from all walks of life eager to take a shot at her. Her inability to prevent the recent violent murders of some of her supporters were earning her daggers from the back in the Sith community.
"Be mindful of your feelings Yuthura. Revan has loyalists here," Uthar warned. "Come. It is time to leave."
"I agree. I always hate how cramped this place is," Yuthura said. The bald man noticed her suppress a shudder.
The three Sith began their trek back to the entrance, the bald man wrinkling his nose at the filth and grime of the tomb.
"I here that you have had great success excavating the Sith Meditation Sphere, in the nearby desert. It will make a fine gift to present to the Dark Lord Revan when she arrives tomorrow, apprentice," Yuthura noted. "It will almost certainly assure your acceptance by her."
"She's coming tomorrow, eh?" The bald man replied. "No matter. This just ups the timetable."
"Pardon?" Uthar asked, frowning.
Not responding, The bald man took out a detonation trigger, pressing it before either master could react.
The blast shook the entire tomb-right as he stepped into the safety zone of the force field he had installed near the entrance. He was protected while the other two had to Force push away the falling blocks.
"What treachery is this!?" Yuthura screamed, whipping out her light saber. Unfortunately, a rather large piece of rubble struck her in the face as she did so, knocking her out cold.
Uthar was about to get off a bolt of lightning at the man when more of the ceiling started to collapse. Snarling and cursing, Uthar abandoned that idea and held up the collapsing structure telekinetically as the bald man walked out.
"Well, that could have gone better. And the planet was just starting to grow on me," the bald man said to himself in his normal lighthearted tone as he looked upon the damaged grandeur of the valley of the Dark Lords. He chucked the detonator and mining shield belt into a nearby dig site, whose workers had left for the day. There was so much junk near the dig sites, it would be a miracle if anyone could figure out that anything there did not belong. As he stared at bit more at the statuary in the valley, he was forced to remind himself that in Korribans tombs were some of the most loathsome people to ever live. The whole place was a monument to abuse of power and unimaginable brutality.
Two years. Two frakking years in this place as a mole for the Republic. He had hated being here after only the first day.
It was as though all concept of civilization and manners had simply crawled away somewhere and died during his time on Korriban. The students were nothing but a bunch of vicious malcontents, perverts, or sadists who would have done better in an asylum for the criminally insane than learning about the Force in this twisted place they called an academy, so totally focused on their own advancement to the detriment of everyone else. He didn't understand how such a warped philosophy could find so many followers time and again. Some would argue that maybe the reason the Sith ideal stayed so popular was because deep down normal people didn't want to be answerable to others or want to be responsible, but he himself scoffed at this. He had seen some of these people in the Dreshdae colony nearby. Something had been wrong with them even before joining. As he walked away from the tomb he became certain he would never find a more wretched hive of scum and villainy.
The worst part of the whole thing was that he had been forced to play along, forced to act the part. When they brought in Republic officers to torture, he had been forced to watch as Uthar actually conducted lessons on how to do the obscene practice to get the best results, and had to show that he had been following the lesson, much to the sick bastard's delight.
He hoped his wife and kid never found out about that part. Hell, he hoped they never found out about ANY of the things he had done to get accepted and to maintain acceptance in this cave of wolves they called an academy. All he wanted to do now was forget what had happened here and what he had done, even though he knew he would never truly forget.
A few of the students on the archeological team formed around the entrance to the tomb. the bald man paid them no heed. He had proven he was not to be trifled with. Besides, leaving the tomb alone meant declaring himself the new headmaster of the academy, something he definitely had no time for. Besides, he would have been extremely cross trying to instruct garbage to remember how to torture someone.
"You! Where is Master Uthar?!" shouted a man from the crowd as he walked past them.
Whistling, the man pulled out a second detonation trigger and pulled it.
The explosives he had installed above the tomb entrance months before, as well as rigging the tomb itself, went off. The blast knocked most of them to the ground, and the ensuing rubble buried the slow ones.
Still whistling, the man began to walk faster to a nearby side-canyon that was rarely used. He hit a control on his belt and the speeder-bike that had been hidden for months decloaked. He hit another control on his belt and deactivated the incendiary failsafe, a precaution against it falling into the wrong hands.
Not hearing anyone follow him, he activated the bike. It hummed with power as he sped off as fast as he dared into the winding pathway.
The man concentrated on the feeling of the desert wind whipping his face and grinned.
Dustil Onasi smoothed his dark brown hair back, tapping his foot impatiently as he waited for the man at their rendezvous point in the adjacent valley next to the academy. He was standing at the mouth of a small cave.
Finally, he spotted the man pulling up in his speeder bike. He hopped off it and activated the incendiary failsafe, the chemical cocktail hidden in the innards of the vehicle eating up the bike and the computer inside it that had his mission details.
"Good. You made it. I was beginning to think Gwai might have killed you."
"Bastard almost did, but I got lucky."
"That seems to happen a lot with you," Dustil noted with a bemused expression.
"Sometimes luck is all you need to come out on top."
"Yes, yes, very good. You have to clear outta here, fast."
"Your help was invaluable for infiltrating the academy. I trust my superiors can count on you for future operations in the academy?"
"Of course. And don't worry about me either. My cover's rock solid. Yuthura says I'm the finest student next to you."
"Good. But watch yourself. I wasn't able to confirm either Uthar or Yuthura dead. This business gets enough people killed as it is, even when they don't get reckless. Are the ships systems still intact?"
"Yeah. I checked it this morning. The systems are still intact. I moved it out of the cave. As far as I can tell, it's ready to go." Dustil gestured for the man to follow him and led him down a long, winding path to an area surrounded by brown rock on all sides. The sun was starting to set and so the clearing was covered in shadow.
The ship was magnificent.
It was spherical, with a sort of mottled golden color and with a prominent bronze eyeball in the front. There were no visible seams and four wing like projections extended out from the equatorial perimeter. Ancient, and not seen since Naga Sadow had reared his ugly Sith head so many years ago. Power seemed to vibrate silently off of the surface, both drawing from the both of them and then spitting it back out.
"Open," Dustil commanded.
The front of the sphere parted open and the inner wall panels reconfigured themselves for a surpriasingly comfy seat. It WAS, after all, meant for deep meditation. There were few controls. It mostly responded to thought.
"Oooo, cushy," the man said as he got in, letting the ships systems recognize him as the first to pilot it in over a thousand years. "Now THIS is what I call traveling in style."
"Yeah, whatever. Get out of here. I'll handle things and by you some time. Go!" Dustil replied.
The man nodded and ordered the ship to close the hatch, which it did.
Dustil paused for a moment while the ship, without any visible means of propulsion, rocketed off at incredible speed, giving off no sound.
Coruscant.
The Sith Meditation Sphere glided through Coruscant's orbital defense systems. It was invisible to their early warning systems as well as any Jedi who might happen to be near the landing zone, thanks to the active cloak that had turned on by itself the moment he had descended into the atmosphere, protecting it from electronic, visual, or mystic means.. He piloted the craft to a large unmarked building far from the Senate Rotunda. Completely unremarkable.
As soon as he spotted it, he sent some transmission codes to the people operating inside it and a concealed hanger opened on the top. He quickly set the ship past the hanger doors and waited for them to close above the ship before he got out. The mechanics were startled when he willed the ship to turn off the cloak
The cockpit opened and the man jumped onto the hard, durasteel floor below, where a large man in a long black coat and beret in a simple black uniform with dull grey eyes waited patiently, his clean shaven, light skinned face betraying only a hint of a smile as a squad of technician's and engineers rushed to the vehicle as the man in the Sith uniform walked past them.
"Glad to have you back with us, Evra," the man grunted in a husky voice that did not match the age in his face. The fingers on his right hand twitched constantly and he seemed to shuffle his feet out of restlessness. He put his hands on his hips and the bald man saw a light saber clipped to the belt. it was a black and silver finish, with a curve to it.
"Good to be back, Colonel Bluefin," Riordo Evra replied wearily, trying to forget the last two years. "Mission success. Brought the techs something to scratch their heads over."
"Indeed. A working Sith Meditation Sphere is quite a boon, but you my friend are the real success. Though you would technically be classified as just another Dark Jedi, for all intents and purposes you are now a fully trained Sith-working for and loyal to the Republic. Now DOOMSAYER is ready to do business. Your successful infiltration was all the assurance our superiors needed to give us the go-ahead for other operations."
"So it's official? We have a team now?"
"Yes. Under my supervision of course, but you are leading it. Walk with me," Colonel Bluefin answered.
As the pair walked out of the hanger and into the low lit hallways of their base of operations, Riordo began to catch a glimpse of other soldiers. Some were practicing at a a firing range with blaster rifles and repeaters of various manufacturers an quality, while other soldiers were practicing with red-bladed lightsabers. Evra spotted the coat of arms for DOOMSAYER, a shield with a large Republic issue boot crushing Darth Revan's mask and light saber.
"Amazing how far we've come. Just forty years ago, all this was heresay and theory. The senators weren't too keen on risking the Jedi's ire. Tried to squash it. Good thing some of them saw the need for Force Sensitives who answered to the Government, not some stupid code that never really works. It was hell getting funding for this sort of thing, and a logistical nightmare keeping it a secret from the Order. Add to the countless hours of screening our men for a suitably high enough Midi-chloral count-of which you are a shining example, and the effort it took to hire other rogue sensitives-well, you get the picture," Bluefin finished as they entered the bustling command center. A large circular room filled to the brim with monitors screening all manner of data and images and people running around like gizka with their heads cut off.
"How many do I have working with me?" Evra asked.
"Four. Two men and two women."
"Ah. Uh, Colonel, I have one concern..."
"What?"
"My eyes. They used to be blue. Now they're this icky yellow color. Is there any way to fix that?"
"I'm sorry Evra, but we still haven't developed a method for solving that. We know it's linked to chemicals in the tissue, but we have not figured out what the precise trigger is. The Jedi Holocrons we've stolen aren't very helpful either. They just drone that it's the corruption of the dark side without giving an explanation. My guess is that they never bothered to answer that question of what precisely takes place when Force energy begins altering the body. Morons. The best I can suggest is get some contact lenses. But you'll have time to worry about your baby blues later. It's time to meet your team. And here comes one of them now," Bluefin answered gruffly, gesturing to a man in a blue jumpsuit with a leather wrapped light saber dangling from his belt. He had a black buzz cut and his eyes had an ugly black color, with no visible irises. His flesh was pale and Evra could see black veins on the forehead and neck. When he smiled, his teeth were revealed as being sharp, pointy, and misshapen. He bowed slightly.
"I am pleased to meet you. I am C'bal Adek," the man said in a croaking voice with a noticeable hiss. He held out his hand.
Evra took it, curiosity at the man deepening. "Riordo Evra. I don't recall seeing you here when I was first recruited."
"I am a late addition to the organization. Colonel Bluefin felt my...particular attributes could be put to use. Do not worry. I am very skilled with my light saber and will be acting as your security specialist."
"C'bal, I need to brief Riordo. Would you assemble the rest of the team and meet in the command center in ten minutes?"
C'bal bowed again. "It shall be done Colonel." With that C'bal walked off. Evra noticed a great deal of people grew uneasy as the strange man passed by them.
"What species is he?" Evra asked.
"He's a Midichloral Manipulation, or a Test Tuber in the underground slang. He was created at the behest of an organization known as the Sith Philosophers some years back. For a long time he apparently went by his project designation, Subject 11-37," Bluefin replied. "But you'll learn all of this soon enough."
Evra followed the Colonel to his office on the far side of the center. It was bare and looked to have been newly built. There was a simple desk and two chairs. Evra took a seat as Bluefin laid out a datapad on the table.
"As you know, Evra, you are now a part of DOOMSAYER, and our organization's sole mission is this: the complete and utter destruction of Darth Revan's Sith Empire and acquiring the secret to her military war machine. In the execution of that objective, it is a necessity that our existence remain a secret. Everyone you encounter must believe you and those you travel with to be nothing more than a rogue group of Dark Jedi not aligned with Revan. As such, there are no Republic forces within the entire fleet save for the men and women working on this project and the Chancellor himself that are aware of your existence. Therefore, any Republic soldiers you encounter on the course of your journey that impede your progress you are to neutralize just like you would any other combatant in war. Same thing goes for Jedi. No exceptions."
"Understood, Colonel," Evra replied, disquieted by the fact he would have to make that discretionary call in the field. Such things were never easy.
"Now, about your team members." Bluefin produced a small holographic emitter. "I know they aren't the type you are usually used to working with but we field tested them and they get the job done pretty good."
"They'd better. I don't want my ass left hanging in the wind."
"I'll see to it that it doesn't happen. Now, this one here, C'bal-" Bluefin began to explain as he showed him the image of the strange man, "He was originally created as a sort of shape shifter and powerful telepath. He was deemed a failure."
"Why are we using him then?" Evra asked, already suspicious. He knew that Special Forces had a habit of attracting the oddballs sometimes but usually, the more predictable they were, the better.
"Because his abilities work, just not the way they wanted him to work. He can determine the thoughts of a target, can shape shift into his target with a degree of such perfection that not even other Force Sensitives can tell the difference. There's one catch: He must consume their brain to do so."
"Yuck. I mean...yuck. He, uh, hasn't developed a taste for it, has he? Because I like my brain."
"Gimme a break Riordo! You honestly think we would have let him anywhere near this unit if he were that unstable? I had an army of psychologists examine him. I even managed to bring an Iktotchi telepath in to examine where his head was at. He's perfectly sane. In fact the only reason I managed to get him on this team was the promise of corrective surgery to his face and the means to shut down that ability he has for good."
"Do you have such a method?"
"Yeah. It's experimental though. Now this next one..." Riordo switched the image to the image of a beautiful young blond woman in her early twenties, her hair cut short and curly. Her skin was a perfect beige and her eyes were the color of a sparkling ocean. She was dressed in a loose fitting white robe and tight grey trousers. Riordo peered closer.
He wasn't exactly sure what it was, but there was something...off about the woman. It was as though she was almost too perfect looking. Evra had never thought he would say that about a beautiful woman but it was almost as though her appearance was like something one would find in an art gallery. Like a walking museum piece.
The more Evra stared at the image, the more he seemed...unsettled by it.
"I seriously don't know what to make of this girl. She has one of the largest Midichloral counts I've ever seen. She rivals Revan. I have no idea how the Jedi missed her. She has refused all compensation for her service. Her name is Carra Bhakti, and she claims to be able to track Revan with an unerring degree of accuracy, which I have verified. She'll be your medic and scout."
"Any chance she's a spy for Revan?" Riordo asked, concerned.
"No. She's no spy. I had that Iktotchi analyze her too. No deception. Thing is, he couldn't tell me where she was from, her back ground, or even what Jedi master trained her. All we know is that she has full Jedi training and a willingness to help us. Nothing else."
"A huge risk," Riordo snorted. "Not exactly a big incentive for trust."
"Hey, Evra, I couldn't pass this woman up. Our own main force is still a bit rocky when it comes to the light saber. When a powerhouse like her comes along, you snatch it and hold on. Now this guy..." Bluefin trailed off, coughing a bit, switching to an image of a man in rusted looking Mandalorian armor and a tattered black cape. "This guy's a real deal Dark Jedi. Mean bastard. Calls himself the Executioner. Hates Revan with a passion. Seems he was at that final battle of Malachor and he never accepted Revan defeating his people. At some point along the line he discovered he was Force Sensitive and managed to steal a Jedi Holocron. He now trains to kill Revan. He's your heavy weapons and light saber expert."
"He's a team player though, right?"
"Relax, he'll do what he's told...with enough prodding."
"Okay, who's next?"
"The second woman on the team." The image shifted to a very dark skinned woman wearing animal hides that left little to the imagination. Her eyes were the same yellow as Evra's. She was bald.
"Her name is Tul-Pa. Backgrounds also a mystery. Her Force signature is-strange. Almost like she isn't there at all. Like she's a hologram, but solid. Got a bit of an attitude. She'll be your sniper and camouflage expert."
"She uh, don't wear a lot, does she?" Evra grinned.
Bluefin chuckled. "Hey, when you get skilled people on such short notice, you have to tolerate some eccentricities."
"Not a complaint. She's easy on the eyes."
Bluefin cocked an eyebrow. "Don't you have a wife and two children, Evra?"
"What?! I'm just saying! Can't I enjoy the view?"
"I think you were with the Sith too long, Riordo. You wouldn't have said anything like that a year ago."
Riordo paused for a moment and then a frown developed. He felt an intense guilt develop suddenly.
"Hell, Colonel, I think you might be right. Those guys at the Sith Academy, they ain't got much of a life. The whole time I was there I had to balance training with watching my back. All those guys think about is how much better they are than the ordinary. Most of 'em have no respect for common decency. The women training there were getting almost constant come-ons. Eventually I just got-numb to it," Evra replied quietly, somewhat sullen.
"Ah, don't get yourself worked up. You remembered your loyalties. The Sith have never been anything more than barbarians, descended from barbarians who mated with failures. That's why they can't change: They're stuck in a loop, just like the Jedi are. Modern Sith Imperialism can't survive us, the notion of guerilla warfare. Just you wait, we'll be standing over Revan and Malak's corpses soon enough. Now enough pep-talk. Let's go meet the team," Bluefin said, heading for the exit, Evra following close behind, the doubt leaving his face. Inwardly however, the guilt grew more intense.
The whole team was waiting at the large table of the breifing room as Evra and Bluefin walked in.
"I assume that we are go?" the Executioner asked with a gruff, accented baritone betraying his Concord Dawn colony origin. The rust on his formerly black armor even more noticeable in person. Evra had fought in the Mandalorian wars and was one of the few soldiers who left Revan once the war was over. It seemed unthinkable for a Mandalorian to let his armor fall into such disrepair. It seemed like the action of a man who no longer cared what people thought of him. Evra looked away as The Mandalorian's red visor turned to him.
"Yes. As you know, Revan is still trying to build allies on the mid rim systems before she makes an attempt at the core. Currently, she is in negotiations with delegates of the Morenva system. The government of that world is extremely suspicious, and negotiations will be thrown into chaos if something major happens. Which brings us to this water treatment facility here."
The Colonel punched a button on the holo-monitor and an image of a large, domed facility with thousands of pipes snaking out from the bottom greeted them.
"This is the major water treatment facility for the whole planet. Revolutionary in design. The pride of Morenva's engineers. I want you all to go in pretending to be Sith and destroy the facility. The reason Revan is negotiating with Morenva's delegates is because of their large quantities of underground Tibanna Gas deposits. If she gets her hands on all those resources she'll have a virtually unlimited supply of ammunition for her troops in that sector. Trouble is, she has to get past Morenva's history with the Sith." Bluefin stopped a moment and began coughing and hacking before he cleared his throat got himself under control.
"History?" Evra asked. Bluefin's coughing had gotten worse since last they had met.
"Morenva was turned into a death camp by Exar Kun forty years ago. Twenty percent of the population was wasted, even when they hadn't fought at all. They've recovered since then and their economy is booming."
"Why would they even consider negotiating?" Tul-Pa asked with a noticeable accent that Evra couldn't quite place. Shadows seemed to dance across the woman's bare flesh and Evra was sure that for a split second he had seen her whole body shimmer, as though it was a mirage.
"Because their army isn't large enough to resist. But they can do what the Selkath are doing on Manaan: Threaten to destroy their resources. Unlike the Selkath though, they aren't neutral. They know the Republic is going to lose if our fortunes don't change. So they're trying to buy themselves some breathing room. There are many in the population however, who are looking for an excuse to lash out. We destroy the facility, we start planetary wide riots-leaving Revan to pick up the pieces."
"And then what? What's this all leading to?" the Executioner asked impatiently.
"The general goal is to remove Revan from power-and put it in Malak's hands. He's ambitious, but he doesn't have her tactical brilliance. He just uses brute force. That will buy us some time until we can muster up a hit squad for him-and even more time to acquire the location of this..."
Bluefin changed the image to that of what seemed to be a massive space station. It was spherical at the center with four large fins on it's sides.
"What in the frak is that?" Evra asked.
"We don't know. Our spy in the Sith Fleet managed to hack the navicomputer on Revan's flagship and send it to a team of Bothans in his pay. Many of those Bothans died getting us this information. We aren't sure whether it's a space station or factory or both, but the spy was adamant in his certainty that this...thing is the key to Revan's resource output. If the Republic can capture this thing-or replicate it-we'll be able to really fight on an even footing."
Looking at the station-or whatever it was-sent a chill down Evra's spine. The design wasn't an ugly one-yet there was a sense of wrongness that permeated the image just the same.
"But in order to do that, we need Ol' Metal Face out of the way. The plan is to lure Revan to Morenva after we destroy the facility. She'll want to launch an investigation and clear her name. That's when we strike."
"I got a bad feeling about this," Evra said. "Revan is a fully trained Sith Lord. I've got some tricks, Colonel, but not the kind that would allow me to kill her."
"That's where I come in," Carra at last spoke, her voice soft and warm to the ears. "I will engage her. And behead her."
"You really think you can take her?" Evra asked. "I've heard stories..."
"I know her better than anybody else. I know what she's thinking. I know what she'll do before she does," Carra replied cryptically. Evra took a look into her eyes and suppressed a shiver. There was indeed something wrong with the girl. It wasn't just her too perfect looks, but the gaze she had when saying she would kill Revan, like she was a few shots short of a full blaster clip.
"Sounds like a Force Bond," C'bal noted aloud, his voice had an oily undertone to it, which Evra was only just starting to really notice.
Evra did have to wonder how stable someone like C'bal really was. Evra wondered how stable he himself would be if he could eat people's brains for information. Would any of the information he consumed remain?
Riordo started to wonder if perhaps he was better off than he thought.
"Of a sort," Carra replied, glancing at everyone in the room. The strange thing about her stare was that even when it was focused right on someone, it never seemed to be really staring directly at them. It was like she was daydreaming when she made eye contact.
"How did you get bonded to her?" C'bal asked.
"Perhaps later. Colonel, I assume we have a failsafe in case something goes wrong?"
"Yeah. But we'll...cross that bridge when we get to it. Enough talk. It's time to suit up and move out. Good luck, gentlemen," Bluefin saluted the team and everybody got up and headed for the armory.
I'm gonna need all my luck for this. I hope it holds out, Evra thought ruefully. Something was almost certainly going to go wrong. It was too soon, too brazen for an attack like this.
Evra checked his lightsaber before clipping it to his belt as he finished putting on the black robes that had been supplied to him. Carra had taken them also but black robes did not disguise the fact that even with such ominous clothing, she could not have been less like a Dark Jedi had she tried. The other members of the team had refused them, looking dangerous enough as it was.
The armory was a cramped, cold place covered in durasteel, and Evra wished they could have made the ceiling just a tad higher as everybody checked their weapons and equipment. It looked as though it hadn't been used in some time. But that is the price one pays for establishing their base of operations in what was once a factory for after market droid parts.
"This your first combat mission, Evra?" the Executioner asked, examining his double-bladed lightsaber, a blackened, unfriendly looking weapon that looked like it had been cobbled together from a speederbike handle and what lightsaber parts he could find-or steal.
"No. I'm a vet of the Mandalorian wars. Saw action at Dxun, Serroco, Ares III-"
"Ah. Fought at Dxun myself. It would have been a glorious battle if Revan hadn't ruined everything."
"What do you mean?"
"Wars are meant to be fought against warriors. Revan was never a warrior. Didn't think like one, didn't fight like one. She relied on that Force of hers far too much."
"How do you explain what you're doing now then? How do you justify it?"
"This is merely retribution for the knife she thrust into our people's heart with her treachery. I cannot fight her in honorable combat. Her sorcerer's ways would surely deny me that pleasure. So I must resort to sorcery of my own. Regrettable, really."
"What do you consider honorable combat?"
"Hand to hand."
"You sound like one of the old Mandalorian Crusaders from the Exar Kun war."
"Indeed. My father was one. When the Neo-Crusaders took control of my people with their regiments and their strange armor, I followed suit, wanting to avenge my father's death at the hands of Jedi. Quickly, I realized that the Neo-Crusaders cared nothing for the old ways of doing things, when war meant everything. I fought to simply destroy. They fought to conquer. What were they going to do with a whole galaxy? Too big. I keep my armor in this state to symbolize how utterly their concept of honor and glory failed our people. There is no honor in war. Only destruction. Honor is one of the blackest lies ever told to our people. We should have re-embraced our true selves instead of carrying on Exar Kun's dream of conquest. We should have fought to destroy, not to rule."
"Hmm. I take it you don't see a need to try and rebuild?"
"Rebuild? Rebuild what? Our path is set in stone. Give us a few more years and we'll be nothing more than a pathetic band of mercs. My people-the true Mandalorian people-are forever dead and buried, and the ones who wear that ugly armor are nothing more than pretenders-no matter how many 'traditions' they adhere to."
"I see. You're just gonna be a barrel of laughs, aren't you?"
"Obviously," came the Mandalorian's reply.
"Well, at least you're seasoned. I was worried they had sent a complete rookie," Tul-Pa said, slinging a Blastech IDF-4 Sniper Rifle over her shoulder and examining her lightsaber pike. The shadows that seemed to dance across her already black skin seemed to quiver as she held it.
"What about you? What's your story?" Evra asked.
Tul-Pa smiled. It was a cruel one. Malicious.
"My master created me from the blackness of his heart and could not destroy me." As she said this, her body seemed to sink into a pool of blackness under her feet and disappear, much to Evra's shock. The pool of darkness raced behind him and Tul-Pa suddenly sprang out of it wrapping an arm around his neck. All she had to do was yank and he'd be dead.
"Good thing we're working together, eh?" Tul-Pa asked. Without waiting for a reply, she ran her tongue along the edge of Evra's ear. He suppressed a shiver, because the tongue was impossibly cold, like a cube of ice.
"Yes. Good thing. Very good. Let go," Evra said. He'd have to watch her if he knew what was good for him. Though she was beautiful, her touch carried a taint with it that could only be felt with the Force. Evra wanted to scrub himself until his skin was raw just to get that taint off him.
"Hmm...very well." Tul-Pa let go and Evra started massaging his neck. her grip had been tight and his neck was cold from Tul-Pa's unnaturally frigid breath.
Tul-Pa went back to her spot to double-check her equipment when she saw Carra staring at her.
"What're you staring at, blondie?" Tul-Pa asked, her tone unfriendly.
"I'm not sure what I am staring at," Carra answered, her gaze unsure. "All I can say for certain is that you are not what you seem."
"Humph. Nor are you. You're pretty good at masking your true appearance. But I do not feel it wise to go beyond that. So let us do each other the courtesy of ignoring one another," Tul-Pa replied neutrally.
"I agree," Carra replied as casually as possible.
Though the exchange seemed to have ended there, Evra, who had been watching the whole thing saw a fountain of poisonous black sprout from Tul-Pa's Force Aura and a much stronger pillar of light pulsate from Carra's.
Evra made a quiet note of this. Friction already. Not good.
"You ladies gonna get into a cat fight or something? Because we leave in ten minutes and we have to familiarize ourselves with the layout of the facility on the way to Morenva," the Executioner grumbled.
C'bal, who rarely spoke until he needed to, as Evra was starting to note decided to chime in. "I agree. We have plenty of time for infighting after the mission. We should report to Bluefin."
Tul-Pa looked over C'bal with obvious distaste. "Fine C'bal, we'll report to your slave master."
C'bal grinned and showed his unpleasantly pointy teeth. "He is not my slave master. I would watch that cold tongue of yours. I eat brains for a living. But I see such a threat toward you would make little difference: You have no brains to speak of. It would be like trying to eat a piece of shadow. However, My creator, Darth Hippocratus, always encouraged me to try new things..."
Tul-Pa bristled at this, but something in those sulfurous eyes of hers made Evra wonder just how on the money C'bal had been, and whether he knew more about her than he was letting on.
"Enough!" Evra yelled. "We don't need this, not on our first mission. Everybody report to the hanger on the double!"
Tul-Pa looked as though she was about to protest but instead simply nodded and left the armory without another word. The Executioner chuckled and followed soon after. C'bal sighed and went after him, Carra patting him on the back to comfort him over Tul-Pa's insult. Evra, realizing he had been thrown in with yet another gang of lunatics, decided he'd have to watch all of them from now on as he left the armory.
The five didn't say anything as they got into the orbital shuttle. Carra took a seat next to the Executioner, noting the discomfort in Evra as he sat next to Tul-Pa and C'bal.
Carra massaged the bridge of her nose. Had she taken her medicine? Once, she had imagined she had taken it and it hadn't been until a few hours later that she realized she had spent that time imagining-believing-she was back with her husband and child.
Carra discreetly checked a small pouch in one of her pockets, methodically counting the number of anti-psychotic medication she had left.
Yes, she had taken her morning dosage. Nothing to worry about, nothing at all. She could remain lucid for the trip.
And if she couldn't...well...a double dosage and a round of tranquilizers never hurt anyone.
Carra was positively eager to go. The sooner she killed Revan the sooner she could shatter the parasitic bond that had made most of her life one long moment of walking on eggshells. The lifetime of taking pills to suppress the unwanted bond-pills that were beginning to fail-would stop. And then she could go back to her family and she could go back to being a simple bank accountant. Happily ever after.
Carra examined her light saber. A curved hilt with a beveled emitter shroud, similar to Revan's, much of Carra's techniques were based off of the Sith Lord's. If it had merely stopped there, Carra would have been content to leave Revan be and live her life free of the hassles that so many other Sensitives were sucked into.
But the problem stemmed from the fact that not only did Carra share power and skill, but also memories in a one-way manner.
Revan was doing terrible things in order to win. Her most vile ambitions and petty resentments flooded into Carra without pause daily. Once, while taking her child out for a day at the beach, she had suddenly imagined she was Revan choking an incompetent underling. She had snapped out of the delusion just in time to find to her horror that it had been her own son.
He had lived, but Carra had not been able to live with herself. She had allowed her husband to have her committed to the local asylum.
That was what had done it for her. She had broken out of the mental hospital that very night, determined to kill Revan and put an end to this madwoman who choked people with her mind for a simple mistake. The two simply could not co-exist.
Tracking the Sith was not difficult. Carra knew where Revan was at all times-including now, eating cereal at the table with Malak and a son of her own, noting how Malak had sunk into a depression and was now having medication of his own given to him intravenously.
It was the getting to her part that Carra was having difficulty with. Revan had some excellent defenses, and rarely was in a position where she was vulnerable.
It was not until an old friend had given her some aid had she been able to make any progress...
Her friend had bribed the Iktotchi Telepath who psychologically screened candidates and had helped her go through the proper channels to make contact with DOOMSAYER.
Carra blinked and tried to hold back the rising bile in her throat as some of the medication she had taken this morning began to make her nauseated. Her vision swooned and she saw spots. The sick feeling got worse as she felt the shuttle lift off and head for a nearby cloaked Republic warship that would serve as the command post for Bluefin for future assignments.
She was not sure of the minutes that passed...she rarely paid attention to such abstract concepts as time. All she knew was that The Executioner was nudging her roughly to get up.
"Move it," He ordered.
Carra heard him as though she was underwater. The meds must have hit her harder than usual this time. She got up and her feet felt strangely rubbery. Following the others off the ship, she absently asked a crewman where the restroom was.
After being given the directions, the crewman seemingly melted out of existence due to the haze of her medication as she proceeded down a corridor whose features teasingly melted in the corner of her eyes. It was with no small amount of relief that she finally located the restrooms.
Finding a private stall, she went in and closed the stall door behind her, got on her knees and promptly vomited her breakfast. Her stomach felt like there were a few shards of glass dancing around in it. The ulcers were getting very bad. She would have to resort to another type of medication soon. She leaned back and closed her eyes, feeling the ship rocket off into hyperspace.
Carra tried not to move too much from the humiliating position of kneeling before a toilet. If she attempted to stand now she would likely fall and injure herself.
Instead, she pulled out an old holo of her family, their faces staring back lovingly.
"I'll see you soon," she whispered.
Morenva, Water Treatment Facility, nineteen hours later.
To outsiders, Morenva's top of the line facility was a modern marvel, using the most efficient techniques in water purification and recycling. Billions of gallons flowed through the pipes snaking out from the bronze colored, domed building whose height rivaled that of a skyscraper on Coruscant, and whose width was about half a block of territory.
Morenva had originally been a mostly human colony that had settled outside Republic jurisdiction. The planet had been a treasure trove of raw materials and the colony had grown from a small backwater to a very serious financial player on the mid-rim.
That was, of course, before Exar Kun.
In typical fashion for a Sith, Kun conquered the planet for its resources and had forced the majority of the population into work camps. The intolerable conditions killed thousands. A resistance, surprisingly, had eventually mustered enough power to drive the Sith off of Morenva, but not without an even more horrendous loss of life on both sides. Kun had continually tried to reconquer Morenva only to find that the resistance managed to thwart him at every turn. The only thing that kept Kun from bombarding the planet was that it would have made it to hazardous to mine afterward (And, perhaps, pride) . Eventually, at the close of that war, a humiliated Exar was forced to finally abandon Morenva, swearing that the Sith would eventually return and make slaves of them all. Many historians today are split over this statement. Was it a foreshadow of Darth Revan's attempts to make use of Morenva's resources or just the final, embittered verbal stab of one of history's most infamous blowhards?
Regardless of how true the statement may or may not become with the state of affairs as they are, most historians agree that Morenva was unique in the ongoing wars with the Sith: it showed just how truly vulnerable they were to diehard guerilla attacks. The inflexibility of the Sith had truly been lain bare during that war, and rogue Force-Sensitives from all walks of life found themselves taking notes. It was only fitting, then, that the first major blow of many future guerilla attacks against the Sith was to occur on Morenva once more.
A shuttle descended on the atmosphere, it's engines outfitted for silent running. A stealth field generator masking it from eyes both mechanical and organic.
It settled in a nearby field. The entry hatch hissed open ever so gently and out strode its heavily armed occupants.
Evra, who had spent the last ten hours running drills on his squadmates for the layout of the facility, checked the security around the perimeter with his binoculars.
Four guys in black jumpsuits with cheap rifles patroling the force field barrier at the front of the entrance. Pathetic.
Evra signaled Tul-Pa. She brought out her rifle. The Executioner readied his medium repeater as he lay hin the grass.
Carra concentrated and one of the men began to choke and cough. The other three went to investigate and were brought down by Tul-Pa and the Executioner's fire.
Evra moved quickly, bringing out his lightsaber and heading for the nearby terminal that controled the field. he sliced it in two. The field powered down.
The four moved quickly, Evra taking point as they reached the large industrial sliding doors. Dawn had already begun and the orange sun was already bright over the horizon.
Tul-Pa pulled out an ICE breaker and began to hack the door. She attached the small, disk shaped machine to the security panel and within seconds it had slid open
Evra peered inside.
A whole bunch of men in blue jumpsuits stared back. Obviously workers. Civilians.
Evra sighed mentally.
"For the glory of the Sith Empire!" he shouted, summoning all the arrogance that had been imprinted on him during his time on Korriban. "The conquest of Morenva begins today!"
His lightsaber activated and the employees began screaming and running in the opposite direction. The Executioner, as had been ordered by Evra before the Op, began firing wildly into the air, than began aiming at the legs and arms of the workers, so as to give the impression that the group had really tried to kill them. They wanted as many survivors as possible, one because Evra had not become so callous as to start commiting war crimes, and two because, if they shot up every one in the facility it would not seem like something Revan would order-Revan liked live captives and almost never killed unless she had to. Today that would work against her.
"Sic'em, gentlemen," Evra ordered, pointing to the nearby generators. The Executioner and Tul-Pa removed the explosives from their equipment pack as Carra begin using the Force to rip out the regulation valves on the pumps.