Exologue One: Executors
0 ATC
Dromund Kaas. The Sith Empire was adapting to the new galactic climate. One of peace. The Great War had ended. And in their minds, they had won. Coruscant burned, and would have been reduced to nothing had their conditions not been met. All their years of planning, all their years of waiting to reveal themselves, and in a few short decades, the Empire brought the Republic to its knees. It was a time to celebrate, but now new preparations had to be made.
The Empire's borders and holdings had rapidly expanded as a result of the Treaty of Coruscant. Even in victory, their forces had waned, and were stretched perilously thin. It was the fear they had stricken into the hearts and minds of the Republic and the Jedi that protected them. But that fear would not last, especially without a war to propagate it. Thus it fell to the Empire and its leaders to rebuild, to strengthen, to cement the ideal of superiority in their every facet.
But the normal operations the Sith had relied on for centuries would not prove sufficient. The tenet of individuality and personal power had provided the Empire a base for military might, but some measure of order was needed to ensure their control over their new territories. The Ministry of War possessed the skill and discipline to secure the new worlds, but lacked the necessary numbers. The same was true for Imperial Intelligence, more than capable of monitoring threats across the galaxy, less able to act on them. Every sphere of the Sith Empire had its role to play in the new age. And every sphere had its own way to fulfill that role.
Perhaps the most integral to the continued success of the Empire was that of Production and Logistics. Charged with balancing intelligence and troop movements, maintaining the economy, supervising labor and agricultural supplies, securing trade and transport, the sphere dealt with the underlying framework that kept the Empire running smoothly and efficiently. But the majority of its work was behind the scenes. It operated not through warriors and posturing, but through numbers and records. And though its influence stretched toward all corners of the Empire, the sphere was perceived as weak. Limited.
The perception was not misplaced. It lacked the agents other spheres possessed. It lacked the Sith presence of other organizations. It lacked enforcers, those willing to carry out its plans, and instead relied upon the other spheres to carry out what it deemed necessary for the Empire's survival. But that was soon to change.
The Dark Councilor heading the Sphere of Production and Logistics, Darth Vowrawn, had a plan. One involving the rectification of his domain's single greatest fault. Thus, the Executors of Logistics were born.
Within the halls of the Citadel, the foundations were being placed. The framework was being constructed. And the first members were being picked. In a small office, rather than some opulent chamber of Sith splendor, two figures had tucked themselves away. Away from fellow Sith. Away from Imperial Guardsmen. Isolated.
Both elder gentlemen, one possessed the red skin of a Pureblood. The other's was a rough, leathery orange, belonging to an alien species unheard of within Imperial space. The Pureblood was regal, dignified. The other was coarse, stoically fierce. One a refined statesman, the other a horned Lord who'd seen more lost than gained.
Darth Vowrawn. Algo Syrosk.
Dark Councilor. Executor Zero.
Syrosk sat behind a desk, whist his superior gently paced about the compact room. In front of the seated Lord sat an array of datapads, each displaying information on potential recruits, pulled from official Logistics databanks.
"Amazing isn't it?" Vowrawn commented as Syrosk poured over the stream of information. "Details regarding every registered citizen of the Empire at our fingertips."
"Keyword: Registered," Syrosk curtly replied. "There are countless individuals who managed to slip through the cracks."
"Like your former students?" Vowrawn supposed. "They'll be in there soon enough. They did earn their citizenship, after all. But then again, we're not interested in slaves and aliens now are we? This isn't to be some underground operation. Just because we're not broadcasting our actions to the galaxy, doesn't mean we don't have rules and standards to conform to."
"And yet you've put me in charge of things," Syrosk commented.
"In the public's eye, there is no Executor Zero," Vowrawn declared. "You are the lone piece of intrigue in an otherwise upstanding organization. If anyone asks, you are merely a consultant, picked for your many years of service recruiting for the Academies."
"I thought that actually was my purpose," Syrosk admitted.
"For now, it is," Vowrawn explained. But as recruitment winds down, I was hoping you would be interested in a more… hands-on role."
"So you want me for more than finding suitable Sith after all," Syrosk muttered.
"You're in charge of filling the ranks, who will be divided into teams and guided by handlers in accordance to their relative talents and skill levels," Vowrawn detailed. "But afterward, I'd like to you oversee a particular group. Be their handler."
"You're giving me a new set of apprentices?" Syrosk supposed.
"No," Vowrawn offered with a quick chuckle. "There is a time and place for hierarchies and traditions. This isn't one of them. We're asking those we bring in to give up their rank and titles. They'll be Executors. Not apprentices, not Lords, not Darths."
"No Darths," Syrosk declared. "They'll destabilize the organizations with power plays and prideful endeavors. I'm going along with this because you promised this would be a chance to help the Empire. I'll not see it devolve into the same chaos I've seen these past decades."
"Very well. No Darths," Vowrawn conceded. "But for this to work, we'll need heavy hitters. Sith who can get things done."
"I can give you at least two," Syrosk replied.
"You can give me three more, assuming you accept my offer," Vowrawn declared.
"Who do you have in mind?" Syrosk wondered.
"Three Sith. Apprentices who lost their masters in the last hours of the war," Vowrawn informed. "Nothing to do. Nowhere to go. I'd like to see you make use of their talents."
"How do you know them?"
"I like to keep tabs on the more interesting students to leave the Academies," Vowrawn declared. "A man in my position needs to stay cognizant of potential threats and assets."
"What makes these three special?" Syrosk inquired.
"I believe they possess a potential unrealized by their former masters," Vowrawn explained. "And without proper guidance, all that potential will just fade away."
"And what do you hope to accomplish with this… realized potential," Syrosk asked.
"The same thing as you," Vowrawn stated. "Raising Sith of worth, who believe in bettering the Empire rather than fulfilling their own selfish desires."
"A lot of people say they want to make the Empire a better place. And most of them would have others manipulated to see that want realized," Syrosk stated.
"Speaking from experience, are we?" Vowrawn supposed.
"I lied to my students, thinking the truth would sabotage everything I had hoped to build. I was wrong, and it nearly cost me everything," Syrosk confessed. "I don't plan on making the same mistake again."
"That's good to hear," Vowrawn said. "I'm sure they'll be in capable hands then."
"I trust all the others will be as well?"
"Of course they will."
"Good. Because the last time someone betrayed me, I spent every waking moment of life righting the wrong they had committed. If I find out that you've been lying to me, that there's some hidden purpose you're not telling me about…"
Vowrawn's wrinkled lips turned into a coy smirk. "It's good you haven't lost your spirit. Because you're going to need it."
The alien released a low sigh. "You going to tell me more about these Sith you want to me to oversee?"
"That can wait," Vowrawn calmly directed. "You can focus on recruitment for now."
"Can I at least know their names?" Syrosk inquired.
"Asher. Fay. Graves."
Syrosk's story continues in… 'Executors of Logistics: The Misfits'