Slayers of the Old Republic

Book II: Taris

By Michael Weyer

High above Taris, the Sith fleet was spread out. The dark ships crossed the skies overhead, ensuring no one would attempt to escape. Sith dreadnaughts were always impressive sights, almost totally black and packed with enough firepower to lay waste to a planet.

The largest of all of these was the aptly named Leviathan. Seen from the side, it resembled the pincher claw of a crab-type creature with the bridge rising from the rear above the engines. Small Sith fighters zipped around it as it made its patrol.

On the bridge, Saul Karath, Admiral and commander of the Sith fleet, walked across the wide space. He was in his fifties but still walked with a hard-backed stride, his graying hair kept under a dark cap, his dark uniform holding the shoulder bars of his rank. The bridge was really two levels, one a set of catwalks lining the large windows that looked into space. Below were a pair of pits where technicians, pilots and other officers worked. Armored Sith soldiers patrolled the sides.

At the moment, Karath's attention was not on any of them but on the figure who stood before the window, gazing out onto Taris. From behind, he was a tall man, his shaved head decorated with vibrant blue tattoos that stood out against his ashen skin. He stood with his hands behind his back, his gray cape draped over his right shoulder, his red bodysuit standing out vividly among the sea of gray and black Sith uniforms and polished silver armor.

Karath swallowed as he saw the man, knowing the power he possessed. It was as if the air around him grew darker wherever he went. Karath had actually seen insects drop dead when they got near the figure. Karath did his best to swallow his fear as he carefully approached Darth Malak, Lord of the Sith.

"You summoned me, Lord Malak?"

Malak's voice came with an electronic echo but it still held a blatant cruelty that no droid could ever match. "What is the progress of the search for Bastila, Admiral?"

Karath tried to remain professional as he answered. "We have patrols investigating every area of the planet, my Lord. However, they have reported problems with the locals. And it is a very large planet to search, my Lord."

"I asked for progress, Admiral, not excuses," Malak stated.

Karath licked his dry lips. "We are doing our best, my Lord. We know how important it is to get Bastila alive…"

"It is also important," Malak interrupted. "That we must stop her from using her battle meditation on us. The search for Bastila is taking too long. We cannot risk her escaping Taris."

"I agree, my Lord," Karath quickly said. "But I do not see what other options we have in order------"

"Destroy the entire planet. Totally"

Karath's jaw dropped. He hoped he had heard "Lord Malak? The...the entire planet?"

"Unless you know a way to totally destroy half a planet, Admiral," Malak said in a dry tone.

Karath shook his head. "But...there are billions of innocent civilians on Taris, not to mention hundreds of our own troops on the surface! We'd be killing------"

Malak turned around and no matter how many times he saw it, Karath could not suppress the icy hand of fear that gripped his heart every time he saw his Master's face.

From the nose down, Malak's face consisted of a large metallic mask that looped around his neck and just under his ears. Where his mouth would have been was a slit that covered the synthesizer that was placed on his voicebox. His eyes were dark yellow, any humanity within them long since extinguished.

Just how Malak lost his jaw was the subject of discussion among the Sith. Of course, said discussions were made when the discussers knew Malak was well out of earshot. The official story was that it had happened in combat, although some versions differed on the cause. Some said it was an explosive charge from a mine or grenade. Others said it was the lightsaber strike of a Jedi.

However, some believed the true cause was much different. The biggest speculation was that Revan had done it to punish Malak for some offensive. Again, there were differing versions of this tale as well. Some said that Revan had used his lightsaber but others claimed the Dark Lord had actually used his powers to wither the flesh off Malak's face. As the injury coincided with the destruction of Telos, the theory was that Revan had been upset that Malak had ordered the civilian population of the planet attacked as well as military.

Whatever the reason, the injury was there. Malak could have had it repaired after Revan's death but instead kept it. He said it was to show the sacrifices he made for the Sith. Most everyone else thought it was because he knew how much it added to his already intimidating presence. One of those was Karath, who was feeling said presence quite a lot at this moment.

Malak's eyes grew colder as he stared down. "Your predecessor made the mistake of questioning my orders, Admiral Karath. Surely you are not so foolish as to repeat his mistake." The electronic echo gave his voice even more cold menace.

Karath swallowed hard, knowing he was on dangerous ground. He'd seen Malak execute men for far less than this. "Of...of course not, my Lord. I will do as you command, but it will take some time to get the fleet in position."

"How long?"

"Ah…the better part of the day if you wish us to be able to strike well at once. I will begin immediately."

"Very well. Dismissed, Admiral."

Karath was a soldier. He followed orders, that was his duty. But he still felt a heavy heart as he prepared to give an order he wished he didn't have to. He glanced behind him and out the window to see the planet below. He tried to imagine all the people running around, conducting their lives, unaware that this was the last day of their lives. His gaze turned to where Malak was standing, arms crossed, gazing coldly at the world he'd just pronounced a death sentence on.

A short chapter I know, but thought a scene as cool as this deserved its separate entry. Getting into more serious fun soon.