Peace is a Lie

Chapter 1: Pilot

Ozone fills the air, the smell of death not far behind. Screams of children can be heard down the hall. There is confusion, disbelief. It is impossible. Weapons ignite only to be snuffed out by the assassin or his legion of white monsters. Thunderous footsteps that once brought comfort, now only signal the end. Blaster bolts burn ancient tapestries, deflected by their targets in a last ditch attempt to save their lives. However, unlike the artwork that they destroyed their efforts would not be made eternal. Thousands scream out in agony, in terror, in rage.

Pushing, yelling, and crawling. The noise is too much. A young boy, no more than ten, is grabbed by a bearded man in a cloak. They run, dodging blue they as they make their frantic escape to freedom. The boy's savior pulls out his weapon, a wraith of green fire. With one hand he fends off death itself, returning it to its source. The boy finds himself falling, crying as his savior disappears into the fray of battle.

"Oi!" A gruff adolescent voice yells at him, "Little brother! Get your six out of bed before father puts one between your eyes."

With a start, Karrel wakes from his fitful sleep. He runs a slightly browned hand through his long dirty blonde hair. He checks his surroundings, running through the checklist of things his father had taught him. He is safe, his blaster is under his pillow, and all of his sense are intact. Satisfied, Karrel swings his leg out of bed, dropping gracefully from the top bunk.

His bare feet come in contact with the cold dursteel of the Ileana, causing him to shiver. As usual, his father was keeping the temperature aboard the small frigate to near freezing conditions. To him, being Mandalorian was being able to survive naked in places that even a Wookkiee would have trouble in/ Disregarding this, Karrel drops to the floor and starts doing push-ups. Is muscle is lean but strong. Still growing, his fifteen year old frame had yet to fill out with muscle like his brother or father. His palms are tough, callused from years of combat holding a variety of weapons. Even at fifteen, he knew how to fire just about any weapon manufactured from the Core to the Outer Rim.

When he reaches one-hundred push-ups, Karrel allows himself to take a deep breath. A thin trickle of sweat is beginning to form on his brow. He smiles, satisfied that he was getting faster in his morning training regiment. While stretching he looks himself over in the mirror near his bed.

The newest burn on his face was beginning to heal. It's red mark now pale, a sign of healing. His bright blue eyes move down his frame, smiling as he finds not an ounce of fat on him. Despite being young, there not an inch of his body that is not covered by lean, powerful, muscle. Turning away from his reflection, Karrel continues to run through his morning work-out routine. As a thin layer of sweat form on his brow he stops.

Taking a towel, Karrel dries himself off before slipping into a thin, black, body suit. The underlay to his armor offers little protection but does help regulate his temperature. Unlike the nearly primitive style employed by the Imperial Stormtrooper Corps, this underlay actually has chemicals in it that heighten the sense and can administer small bacta boosts in order to gives his body a jumpstart in emergencies. Next, he grabs his shoulder plates and snaps them into place. Actually taken from two different sets of armor, the left plate is a dark green while the right is a bright red. Unlike his brother and father, his armor is not complete and as a result most of his forearms remain bare, though it does protect his joints from trauma. He takes this time to inspect his greaves, the black set of armor for his legs. It is scarred and burned from its previous owner, a testament to how tenacious the man had been. Still, that had not stopped Karrel from shooting him last year on their mission to Onderon. Last, he puts his black chest piece into place. While it did not cover his whole body, this piece of armor allowed him greater mobility. Overall his armor, while lacking in total protection, allows Karrel greater mobility and stealth options that his father and brother do not have.

"Hey idiot," His older brother calls from outside in Mand'o, "Father said get your ass out here. We're about ready to drop out of hyperspace."

"Keep your bucket on," Karrel yells back, also in Mand'o, "I'll be there in a second."

"Don't keep us waiting little brother," His brother finishes, getting the last word as usual.

Placing his DC-15 on his hip, Karrel exits his bunk and makes his way to the living space aboard their tiny ship. The living area had been stripped bare, only the faded green paint from its previous owner remained. The chairs were being occupied by four figures in hulking Mandalorian armor, their t-shaped visors hiding any differences between them.

The warrior clad in orange next to him is a Twi'lek, former slave who had killed her Hutt master at the age of eight and had snuck her way onto a ship. She had been adopted by Karrel's father into their clan, and he knew not to underestimate his alien older sister Verina.

On her right is a giant of a man, made more imposing by his blood red heavy plated armor. Standing at over two meters of pure muscle, Dravik Ordo is their sniper. Across his lap are the components of a Verpine sniper rifle, heavily modified to suit Davik's secondary position as a heavy weapons expert. By simply removing the barrel, one could equip the grenade launcher addition that Davik had installed.

Finally, Karrel looked to his brother and father. Despite his brother wearing orange armor and his father wearing black, their Mandalorian armor is identical. On their right wrist is a concealed flamethrower, on the left a dart launcher. Karrel's adopted father stood just under two meters, only narrowly taller than his biological son. In comparison, Karrel feels quite tiny.

"Took you long enough," His older brother says through his visor, "I thought you were never going to wake up."

"Leave the pup alone Vijand," Verina scolds, "He's here isn't he?"

"You could at least out your helmet on," Vijand insists, "It's the way little brother."

"Cut the chatter," Their father barks, moving towards the navigation panel, "We're about to drop into Ossus's system. I don't want any funny stuff, we go in, we get the holocron, and we get out. Our employer is not going to pay for a damaged Jedi artifact, so be careful."

"Who is paying s for this?" Karrel asks as he slips in his black t-visor helmet, "I've read the reports, Ossus is a nasty place. I'm not sure even a Jedi relic could survive here. I don't know about the rest of you but I have a bad feeling about this."

"The Force is a powerful thing," Davik sagely tells them, "If anything can survive the Clone Wars and the environment down there, it'll be something the Jedi made."

"What are you a kriffing Jedi?" Vijand laughs, playfully hitting Davik, "You don't actually believe in the Force do you? Everyone knows that the Jedi's powers are just exaggerations."

"I fought against them," Davik reminds the younger man, "I've seen a Jedi cut down an entire battalion of battle droids, by herself. They can jump higher than your thrust pack can take you and their lightsabers are lethal. If a Jedi wanted to build a holocron to last the ages, I would believe it."

"Too bad they got themselves killed," Karrel says to himself, "I think a Jedi would be a great challenge."

"What part of cut the chatter do you not understand?" Karrel's father snaps, "Gather round for the mission briefing."

"This is our objective," Karrel's father explains, holding up a blue hologram of a small temple, "A library used by the Jedi back when they controlled Ossus."

"We have reason to believe that the Empire has also discovered that this holocron exists, and they want to claim it for themselves."

"Poor bastards," Vijand whisper to Karrel.

"In the best scenario we can avoid the Imperial patrols in the smaller library itself because they'll be searching the main temple," Their father says, changing the image to the larger temple complex, "However, I don't like leaving that kind of thing up to chance. Which is why we're going to need a distraction."

"Sarge, if I may," Verina says, standing next to him, "The distraction team is going to have to engage the greatest number of hostiles."

"Which is why the three of us," Their father says, motioning to Davik and Verina, "We'll be acting as bait. We make it seem like we got out Intel wrong, and the plastic boys will be all over us.

"Giving the two of you," Their father continues, now pointing at them, "A clear shot at the holocron."

"Let me go with you!" Karrel insists, "Let me prove myself a man, a Mandalorian."

"I couldn't agree more," His father says with a nod, "Which is why you'll be leading your brother on your mission. Consider it your wright of passage."

"No offense father, but shouldn't I lead the mission?" Vijand interjects, "I have more experience."

"Karrel needs to learn to stand on his own two feet," Verina explains, "It's not a question of your ability. Be his brother in this instance, let him grow into a man."

"I won't let you down father," Karrel says with a bow, "We'll come back with that holocron."

"Then what are we waiting for?" Vijand declares while loading his rifle, "Let's go hunting little brother."