Prologue

In the quiet vacuum of space, the small farming planet orbits its sun. The planet is covered in large swaths of green and brown land, but with broken-up plots of blue that denote the world's lakes and oceans. A solitary moon orbits the planet, barren and white as bone, minus some small pieces of metal jutting out of its surface. Other than that small blemish, the sight of the little green orb can be considered the most uninteresting location in the galaxy.

Suddenly, the scream of a star cruiser exiting hyperspace cuts the silence as it flies ominously over the green planet. The star cruiser is an old Imperial cruiser, but upon closer inspection it has an unkempt, almost unnatural appearance. The paint job is hardly a standard Imperial look; a mix of the standard gray durasteel and a half-completed crimson rebrand. Bits of wooden scaffolding still cling to the ship, almost as if the ship was repurposed before it could even begin its service to the Empire. Now, it goes by the Crimson Dawn.

Aboard the bridge of the cruiser, a mixed group of individuals work the various terminals located in the alcoves in the floor. Most are human, while some are a collection of various alien species. Some wear what looks like civilian garb, while others wear heavily modified remains of Imperial uniforms found abandoned in the ship. The only commonality between all of them is that on the back of their shirts is a large, red symbol sewn on.

On the main floor of the bridge, raised above those handling the minutiae of running a ship such as Dawn, are two individuals. The taller of the two, a human named Dumak, is leaning against the glass window. Dumak is dressed in more casual clothing. He is wearing a simple pair of pants, an equally-unremarkable set of boots, a red sweater, and a jacket made of the leather of whatever poor creature crossed his path. His hair was a darker shade of brown, and was long and shaggy. The only aspect about his appearance that could be considered out-of-place would be the lightsaber hanging off his belt. One could hardly tell this young man was training to become a Sith practitioner.

The shorter of the two is a Zabrak named Morroth, and he looked more fitting for a member of the Sith Order. His skin is a red and black patchwork of jagged shapes. His scalp, while devoid of hair, had a ring of horns growing at the edges of it. A short beard, the same jet-black as half of his skin, neatly covered the lower part of his face. Unlike the casualness of his apprentice's outfit, Morroth's was much more rigid. He wore a simple dark grey tunic, which was cut off at the sleeves. His pants were the same shade of gray, and on his feet a pair of brown sandals. The only similarity in their appearances was that like his apprentice, Morroth's belt held a lightsaber as well.

Morroth gazed out the window of the bridge. In his hand, he held in front of him a strange artifact. A small necklace held a round amulet, barely bigger than Morroth's eye. It was round, and made of an unknown grey stone. On it were four blue ovals that glowed; on each side, a larger oval overtook a smaller one. Morroth's gaze was fixed upon the amulet.

"That mean what I think it means, boss?" Dumak finally looked up, also turning his attention to the amulet. "We finally in the right spot?"

While wincing at his apprentice's casual address, Morroth nodded. "Perhaps." He reached into his pocket and pulled out a comlink. "Bring him in," he muttered into it.

A pair of Sith troopers, in full red armor, entered the bridge. They were escorting a portly young man, a pilot, whose face was bruised in multiple places. He looked terrified.

Morroth slowly approached the young man with what he thought passed as a friendly expression. "What is this place?"

Even in his fear, the pilot was confused. "Zularsa? There's nothing on it. I thought I was the only one who knew it existed."

"What kind of defenses?" Morroth continued.

Despite his fear, the pilot let out an involuntary chuckle. "Defenses? The place is just farms and fields. Few villages, but nothing worth looking at."

Morroth took a moment to consider. "And you traded with them?"

"Me? No, I never really interacted with anyone. I just refueled my ship and left."

It didn't take the Force to know that he was lying. Morroth approached him and held out his palm. The pilot flinched, but Morroth just placed his hand on his forehead.

"What are you-"

The pilot started screaming as Morroth entered his mind, sifting through his memories as if they were runes lost in the rust-colored sands of Dathomir.

A village the size of a small town, with barely a hundred people living in it. To the south was a crater. Grass grew inside of it, but it was clearly not a natural formation. In the village proper was what appeared to be a grain silo. The metal plating looked almost like the same metal used in a one-person escape pod found on smaller vessels.

Morroth severed the connection. The pilot slumped over, breathing heavily as if he'd just run a great distance.

Morroth was pleased with this information. He told the men holding the pilot, "That will be all. Escort him back to his cell. I'll figure out what to do with him after."

With that, the guards on either side of the pilot picked him back up and dragged him away. Morroth turned back to his apprentice, who looked thoroughly uninterested in that whole exchange.

"You seem tired, apprentice," Morroth noted.

Dumak readjusted himself so he was standing upright (albeit at a slouch). "No offense, Morroth, but I could've handled that. Why won't you let me look into the minds of captives?"

"Because you handle minds like a kowakian monkey-lizard handles a thermal detonator. The Force is about precision. It isn't a toy, but a tool."

"But what about all that stuff you said? I thought you were all about how we should use the Force to 'achieve true power' or whatever?"

The young man's short-sightedness continued to grate on Morroth. "Of course. But there are ways of showing strength through restraint. A Sith's power is through fear. By only giving them a taste of our true power, the fear of what we could do keeps them in line. If they ever learn our limits, they could use that against us. Controlled shows of strength keep them in line better."

Dumak didn't look convinced. "If you say so."Morroth sighed in frustration. "Regardless, our time grows near. I will inform our benefactor of our plans, then I'll have you gather our best fighters onto the shuttle. We will be on the planet's surface within half a rotation."

Dumak smiled. "Aye, cap." With a brief salute, Dumak went off.

Morroth rolled his eyes and sighed. One of these days, he'd teach the boy something about respect. Dumak was the only other Force-sensitive in their group, so he wasn't spoiled for choice in regards to lieutenants. But it didn't matter.

After so long, he was finally going to finish what Maul started.

Morroth: Sam Witwer

Dumak: Barry Keoghan

The Pilot: Kevin Heffernan