Chapter 1
Darth Karon tipped the control yoke forward to plunge the Endurance nose first into the massive gravity well of the core world, Coralug, the point of no return for some one who wanted to make a hyperspace jump. The sharply tapered prows of Mandilorian blockade ships slipped past like the maw of a massive asteroid worm, coaxing him into its sheltering, cavernous depths while planning to fill with acid and digest him. Karon didn't flinch. He had a mission which he must accomplish, though if he succeeded, the next few years would be a unique trial.
A heavy, exotically accented voice – reminiscent of that of the Duxon settlers' integrated standard—crackled through the ship's speakers.
"This is Mandilorian cruiser Unyielding. State your identity and pass code or you will be fired upon."
"Unyielding," he replied in a measured tone. Don't mess with a Mandilorian, even if you're a Sith. "This is the shuttle Endurance out bound from the Korriban system, coming on a mission of highest priority, given by the Dark Council. Transmitting codes now."
He smirked at the stunned silence over the COM. The Empire just had too much power. He knew it was blasphemous, but he oft entertained visions of the Republic rising once again, just to imagine the peace and lack of all this suspicion and intrigue. Satisfying these Mandilorians and their protocols was getting rather tiresome.
"You will pass unchallenged," said the thick-sounding lieutenant.
He was almost at bombardment level anyway.
He powered down the engines and let the thrusters coax the lightly-armed craft into a descent vector.
As he reclined away from the transparasteel canopy and into the spacious cockpit, he contemplated the developed world that twinkled before him in huge grids. It so reminded him of that great conquest. The plot had worked so nicely, until…
The gravity alarm chirped from the red-glowing control array, warning him that the Endurance had reached terminal velocity.
He tapped the pulsing indicator light and toggled a counter-thrust then brought the engine nacelles back to running power and glided nimbly past the first of the soaring structures. Above a puffy cloud, any inexperienced pilot would expect a terrain alarm, but Darth Karon knew better. His experiences on these worlds were more than enough to override such a naïve notion.
He dipped into the cottony whiteness, wisely savouring the peace.
The Endurance immerged into chaos. A constant stream of multileveled traffic traveling in confusing, perpendicular lines which would be indecipherable were it not for the glowing indicators on the canopy.
As he entered a rapid queue which extended down and right several kilometres ahead, neon-glowing signs flashed by in a whirl of dazzling colour. Casinos, bars, diners and a myriad of cheap flats dropped into Coralug's depths and out of sight—probably out of the liveable biosphere).
He was nearly at the place, flitting through the refugee district… there!
Along the wall of plain, shabby buildings, a large landing pad jutted, unmanned, out of the sea of grey, leading into a narrow alley way.
He started his approach, while at the same time reaching out with his considerable command of the force. Yes, he was there. The council's spies were right.
He let the ship's repulsorlift cells cushion the touchdown and unclipped his loose harness, treading aft toward the landing ramp.
Karon exited the Endurance with a purposeful stride, his two Sith Assassins flanking him with fingers to their sheathed vibroblades. The Sith Lord had to stifle another smirk at the irony of carrying such useless soldiers.
The beggars lining the alley of the ghetto shrank away even without him sweeping his light cloak aside to reveal the ivory-coloured handle of his lightsaber, carved from the massive clavicle of a Sith War Rhino.
Karon traveled through the lines of shelters and families huddled around plasma-heated batteries and into a cluster of what seemed to be huge, re-enforced industrial box crates, but were filled with residents of the poor refugee sector instead of flash-frozen goods ready to be shipped to far-off systems. They backed away from passers-by and seemed to blend in with the metal interiors of the durasteel containers in their insignificance. Karon could sense him, though.
He was close to the source. Almost there-
"Jia," a stern female voice called from inside a nearby crate. "Come inside. You'll catch cold."
A boy rounded the corner of the box carrying two credit coins. The poor kid had been working, probably slaving away for some Hut slumlord. This was the one, though, and he confided this information to the assassins through the force, who cloaked themselves while Karon stepped forward.
The boy, Jia, turned around. He was a sprightly youth with bright blonde hair which was brushed carelessly to the left and deep blue eyes that took in every nuance of Karon's appearance… which was quite an eyesore with his haunted, yellow eyes and visage scarred from his continuous manipulation of the dark side and occasional use of the deadly Sith lightning.
Jia's jaw worked and his eyes widened, wondering possibly what man could sustain such scars and live. He had no idea.
"Markm, would you go check on Jia and make sure that his shenanigans don't carry on past curfew?"
It was the woman inside again.
As footsteps approached, Jia darted into the shelter. That would only make it worse.
The man named Markm peaked around the frame of the container door, took one look at Koran and said, "blast!"
He gathered the force into his body and channelled it through his open palm and the air rippled with a rhapsodic boom that, to pleasing effect, made the ramshackle buildings rattle and rock.
Hit with the Force Pulse, Markm was thrown off his feet, coughing violently as he hit the ground with two broken ribs.
He turned to face the door and saw the woman, clearly some sort of mother figure to the boy of no more than fourteen, shakily clutching a blaster rifle.
At this offence, the assassins immerged from their cloaked states and drew vibroblades, ready to hack the woman down. Fate wouldn't have it that easy, though. A force wall, uncontrolled but powerful, erupted from the boy and sent the assassins sprawling.
Karon drew his lightsaber and brought it before him in a close stance. He would have to make a ridiculous show of this.
As the first two blasterbolts surged toward him in the ghostly image of his force foresight and hit him in the center of mass, he spun his whirring blade full circle before positioning it to intercept the green bolts. Then, in the next volley, he jumped and sent his body into a fast corkscrew with his lightsaber aligned above his head, deflecting a bolt per spin. He was now close and had showed off enough for one day.
Casually deflecting one more surge, he brought his lightsaber about and cut across the mother's abdomen.
The assassins had recovered by the time the whirring blade hissed back into its handle, and were restraining the child. He was fighting back. That was good. They finally jammed an injector tube into his neck and dosed him with a powerful sedative cocktail which would last for the entire jump.
"Drag him to the ship with a hood," Karon ordered wearily. "I don't wand his identity discovered until we're well clear, understood?"
They bowed stiffly once, then wordlessly shoved Jia's blonde head into a black hood.
In the instant before his face disappeared, Karon felt a sudden, stunning urge to strike him, to kill him now, but it passed and Karon buried the feeling for later examination.
* * *
As the ship made the jump for Korriban, Karon retired to the main hold and let the anger resurface. It seemed like pure, blind fury. An unguarded moment after an adrenaline rush, but it felt more like an intuition.
Maybe it was the right thing to do. To that point, he had a distinct feeling that he could have saved himself a lot of trouble in following that course.