Blood Of Brothers

Clan Arcona Citadel
Selen, Dajorra System


Sashar's eyes flickered open. Someone was coming. He sighed inwardly and lifted himself off the hard bed – he hadn't been sleeping; it had been nearly a year since the Proconsul actually been able to sleep – around the time of the debacle at Antei. Instead, he laid still and tried not to think of anything – it seemed to recharge him somewhat but more and more he was forced to draw on the force to sustain him. The Proconsul sometimes wondered if it was his Master that was stopping him from sleeping, yet another test of his worthiness, but paranoia wasn't constructive. Unless he had proof, it was better to accept the problem as it was and concentrate on matters he could change.

Such as this disturbance.

He was still pulling on his tunic as he entered the Proconsul's office and saw the newly Knighted Illian Syn sprawled over one of the comfortable chairs by the conversation table, a leg leisurely draped over the arm as he inspected the claws on his ever-present gauntlets. The former apprentice looked a little out of place in the Blue Mist armour – Sashar was used to seeing him in all of his usual aristocratic foppery, however those green eyes still held their dangerously unstable element.

"What've you got?" the Proconsul asked without preamble.

"This perfectly charming smuggler was passing through Boz Pity a day or so back and mentioned something about a possible scouting incursion into Dajorran space on behalf of their masters – I'm assuming he's a peace brigader riding on Nas Choka's coat tails. Naturally, when I heard that the Vong could potentially notice our little homestead I came back post haste so we could batton down the hatches."

Sashar grimaced. If the Vong found out there was an enclave of Dark Jedi in the Dajorra system, practically in their back yard, they'd doubtlessly crush Arcona before they could conceivably be a threat.

"Where is this smuggler?" he replied, already heading to his desk and bringing up a few comlink frequencies.

"I had him brought to the citadel: he's in the Interrogation Chambers." Illian replied languidly.

"He's alive?" the Proconsul asked, surprised. His former apprentice wasn't known for his respect of other living beings and was known to end lives on a whim. "Very well, I'll be down in a minute. Get a couple IT-O droids down there."

-=[]=-

The smuggler was hanging from his wrists by a chain that kept him anchored to the ceiling, a few inches off the ground. He was already stripped naked and bleeding from various cuts and abrasions when Sashar got there – clearly Illian's apprehension of the smuggler had been none too gentle.

Sashar swept into the dank chamber flanked by a pair of IT-O Interrogators. He didn't say a word, instead just nodded at the prisoner. The two droids hummed ominously as they approached and the terrified screams caused Illian to backhand him, breaking his nose and loosening his two front teeth due to the heavy metal gauntlets he was wearing.

"You might live through this." Sashar said when the prisoner had calmed down. "You might. However, your chances don't look good. Depending on what you tell us, the droids might be brutal, or they might not." The prisoner answered by spitting at Sashar. The glob fell short of hitting him and landed on the floor at his feet. He sighed and gestured for the droids to begin.

Some hours later Sashar and Illian exited the room, the former wiping blood from his face with a cloth.

"Don't you just hate it when they flail about in such an abrupt manner? Gets bloodstains everywhere." Illian half-muttered. The Proconsul grunted in response and turned the corner, his pace quickening.

"Good work picking this guy up. Wait for me on the Eye of the Abyss." Sashar ordered crisply, his mind clearly preparing himself with the upcoming meeting with the Shadow Lord Mejas Doto, di tenebrous Arcona.

-=[]=-

The throne room was nearly pitch black due to the sun not yet having risen, yet Sashar could feel the Consul…lairing in there. It was impossible to think of Mejas doing anything as mundane as living or inhabiting a place – the Iridonian was far too feral to be considered that conventional.

His hand tightened on his lightsaber, hidden beneath his gray outer robe, but he knew that should the Shadow Lord want to kill him, he wouldn't last long. Not yet.

"Lord Consul, I have some bad news." Sashar said without preamble, kneeling before the throne.

"Rise." Mejas answered and turned from staring out at the night sky to regard his right arm genuflecting before him.

"The Peace Brigade are planning a scouting operation into the Dajorra System. If they find evidence of any force users or a significant fleet, they will doubtlessly inform the Yuuzhan Vong. If this happens, Arcona will fall."

Mejas's eyes flashed slightly, but other than that there was no reaction.

"We have interrogated a prisoner and drawn the location of the Peace Brigade cell that intends to scout out Dajorra – they're based on Sakiya-"

"Ready the fleet." Mejas ordered at once, cutting Sashar off.

"The entire fleet? My lord, that'll leave Dajorra defenceless-"

"I'm fully aware how undefended my system will be, however if the Vong do indeed find out where we are, it won't matter how much of our fleet is in-system; Dajorra will still fall. Our best bet is to crush this cell before they contact the Vong. Do not question me again." His voice carried a weight of exaggerated patience, as if he was describing the turn of events to a child.

"My lord." Sashar replied as he turned to leave.

"Send Blue Mist to Sakiya to do an orbital reconnaissance and also have an updated list of the other clan's movements over the last month waiting on board my flagship." Mejas added. The Mandalorian didn't dare push his luck further, nodded once more and hurried from the throne room.

-=[]=-

"…So we're going to pre-empt the attack. I want both of you ready to mobilise by 0700 tomorrow morning. The fleet is being temporarily reconstructed to be one large task force, rather than two forces, and from here every single ship we've got is going to hammer down this outpost. You'll both be captaining your respective Bothan Cruisers and I expect you to both have a ground contingent ready, just in case we need to make a ground assault. The flag will naturally be held on the Abyss. Any questions?" Sashar asked.

Both of the holocomms flickered slightly as the Queastors shook their heads in the negative.

"Good. Rho, also have Blue Mist prep for launch in two hours – I want them going along with the Valour's Fall as part of a vanguard to scout the area. Quietly, of course."

"And Soulfire?" The Nagai questioned.

"Have Malidir stay back as the Consul's guard. The rest will accompany the Valour's Fall."

"Yes sir." Rho answered crisply and the two quarter-sized images flickered out.

He sighed and sat still for a moment, dipping his mind tentatively into the dark swirls of the force surrounding the Citadel. There was a restlessness that was added to the oppressive quagmire that constituted for the dark side – a restlessness he'd not felt since before the ambush at Antei. The force was building up to something, but what exactly that was eluded him.

And if I can sense it, Mejas sure as slice can.

Flicking the comm. open once more, called for a LAAT/i to be readied and prepared to make for Torbai Garrison to inform the chiefs of the military – however a surge of fear stopped him mid-step on his way to the hangar. Breaking into a sprint, the Proconsul made for the nearest terminal.

-=[]=-

"You don't have to tell me." Mejas intoned as the senior military aide ran towards his throne.

He turned his back to the rising sun, letting the light silhouetted his hooded features.

"They're here."

Sashar entered a moment later and gestured for the aide to leave while he still could and offered the Consul an abbreviated bow.

"Your orders?"

"Blue Mist will head up our fighter squadrons when they get back with the rest of the Expeditionary Force. You will hold the flag on board the Abyss and defend Selen at all costs. The other planets will have to fend for themselves – we must hold Selen. The Serpentine throne cannot fall. I will remain here and co-ordinate our forces. Soulfire will assist me and guard the Citadel. Phrophecy Phyle will initiate a Battle Meditation ritual to ensure our naval forces are properly linked."

"And the ground forces, Lord Consul?"

"Selen's are to defend the Garrison, Estle City and the Citadel. All others are to defend their planets as best they can."

Sashar swallowed once, letting the order and its ramifications sink in.

"…You don't think we can win, my Lord?" he ventured.

"Against 3 destroyer Analogs and the accompanying ships? No, Sashar, I do not. Go. We do not have time for idle musing."

Sashar abbreviated the bow once more and hurried from the chamber, leaving the Shadow Lord to contemplate the possible end of his clan.

-=[]=-

The Arcona Defence force was already in place, squaring off with the larger Vong Force with grim resolve by the time Sashar arrived on the bridge of the Eye of the Abyss.

"Captain Sulaco." He said by way of greeting.

"Welcome aboard, sir. We have the defence force ready sir, but the Expeditionary Force will take a little longer. They were on long range patrol of the neighbouring systems."

"You mean they're not even in-system yet?" Sashar said, looking at the Captain as if he had a gun to his head.

"No, sir. They were undergoing a brief shakedown cruise. We estimate half an hour to forty-five minutes before they're back in system. A further 2 minutes to get to us."

The Proconsul sighed, but nodded in acceptance.

"How soon until we meet with the Vong?"

"fifteen minutes."

There was a sobering quiet on the bridge. In fifteen minutes, The Yuuzhan Vong taskforce could tear the Abyss and her escort of three gunships limb from limb.

"Right then. Let's make this difficult for the scarheads. Shade Squadron is to be loaded with the special package and kept in reserve for now. I want the TIE Avengers out there now forming a screen. Hold the bombers in reserve for now ."

"Yes sir."

He sighed quietly to himself. The Vong forces weren't visible yet, but he knew that there were 3 destroyer analogs, a smattering of frigate and corvette analogs and more coralskippers than you could shake a stick at out there in the blackness.

-=[]=-

Even Mejas Doto, di Tenebrous Arcona had a master. As much as it irked the iridonian, he knelt on the Holonet's pad and waited patiently for Grand Master Sarin to deign him with an audience.

After what felt like an age to the blue-skinned Consul, the Grand Master's face appeared. As always, he had a perpetual scowl.

"My Lord, Dajorra has been found by the Vong. They have brought a fleet that is easily able to sweep aside ours. If you do not wish to see another clan swept from the face of the Galaxy, then I urge you to send assistance."

Sarin's scowl darkened to an outwright glare. Mejas had always been impetuous, and now, with that same tone he was asking the Grand Master for help.

"None of the Dark Council's ships are anywhere near Dajorra. However… I believe one of the clans will be able to lend you assistance." Darth Sarin didn't venture further. He smirked shortly at watching Mejas's outrage blossom, and abruptly cut the connection before the Consul could offer a rebuttal.

Visibly, Mejas Doto took a moment to calm himself before mentally running through his options, although deep down he already knew the answer – there was only one old alliance he could call on now…

-=[]=-

"Five minutes 'til contact." The helmsman called up from the crew pit and Sashar nodded.

"Get me the Quaestors." Sashar said to the communications officer, who immediately got to work.

"They're on audio." She responded promptly.

"Rho… I take it you're on the Darkest Night?" the Proconsul ventured.

"We're en-route now. Give us 20 minutes and we'll be able to lend fire support at extreme range." The Nagai replied.

"In the event that the Eye of the Abyss falls, you will take the flag and order a full retreat. If you can coax anything else from those engines, do so. We're not going to last long. Zandro, where are you?" Sashar asked, a brief spark of pride at his former apprentices being so calm in the face of almost certain annihilation.

"En-route from Arconae Primus. Temple Qel-Droma only has a token defence force of Prophecy Phyle – are you sure you need me in space?"

"Unequivocally. Hurry, I'll brief you personally when you arrive."

"Four minutes!" called the helmsman and Sashar signed off, focusing back on the task at hand.

"Would you like to say anything to the fleet, sir?" Captain Sulaco ventured, and the Proconsul nodded. A moment later, a fleet-wide communiqué was initiated.

"My friends. Today we face a force far superior to ours, and in all likelihood many of us will die in the ensuing melee. This will be a trial, a gauntlet… and a crucible in which true heroes are born. I implore you, my fellow clansmen, my fellow followers of the Shadow Lord, my fellow neighbours: prove to the Consul, to these di'kutla scarheads and above all to yourselves that you each have it in you the reach of greatness. Take it, and with it the lives of the invaders."

"Eloquent, sir." Sulaco commented dryly.

Sashar grunted in response. "Saw it in a holodrama once."

This evoked a chuckle from the bridge which was quickly silenced by the helmsman chiming in with an unwanted "Two minutes!"

Sashar then felt a buzzing – a presence at the back of his mind. He felt backwards, barely conscious of the pressure urging him on until he identified its source: Mejas had taken his place on the Serpentine throne and was rallying his forces – pushing them that bit harder to succeed. He'd also be making sure that everyone in the fleet worked with greater precision, ensuring the very best from his flotilla.

"Coralskippers incoming!" The sensor officer reported sharply and Sashar grimaced. The opposing ships were quicker than they'd anticipated.

"Return fire at will. Draw the gunships in closer to provide supporting fire and instruct the main cannons to target the nearest Destroyer. They're to fire in a saturation pattern as soon as they have solutions."

A tremble ran through the deck as the first shots were exchanged at range. By now the ugly seed-shaped cruisers ahead were visible, bearing down on the black star destroyer and her cluster of supporting ships like some many-headed mythic beast. The bizarre fighters were already flitting through his formations, taking shots at any targets of opportunity, but the shields were holding – for now. How long they kept strong was a question nobody wanted to know, so the bridge crew of the destroyer didn't ask.

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Sparring Room
Alabrek Castle, Kar Alabrek
Tarthos, Orian System
Domain of Clan Naga Sadow


Ashura Isradia grimaced as the lightsaber flashed against his own, sending shockwaves of pain trembling up his own. Clenching his teeth into a snarl, he ducked out of the grapple and sliced against the Elder’s legs. A second black lightsaber seemed to arc out of nothingness, and only a hairsbreadth of anticipation saved his neck. Twisting through a tight weave, Ashura slammed his own blade forward. The force of his blow forced the Master to take a step back.

Somewhere a communicator began to chirp. Urgently.

Cursing, Trevarus deactivated his lightsabers and retrieved the small device from a pocket in his coat. The voice of a nameless communications officer spoke tinny.

“Governor, we have a priority-one enroute from the Dajorra system.”

“What? Is a Dark Council Fleet in Dajorra, currently?”

“I don’t know sir.”

“I’m on my way.” Trevarus replied, and hung up.

“I guess we’ll continue some other time, Master Sadow” Ashura asked.

“Yes. Loosen your wrist, its causing you to overexert your energy, especially on the sai and jung. Shii-Cho has it advantages, but don’t attempt to blend them into Makashi.”

“I understand Master Sadow.”

Trevarus exuded a thunderstorm of irritation, sweeping out of the small room in a black sweep. Three minutes later, he had placed his communicator into the main transponder unit.

If he was surprised to see the withered features of Mejas Doto, he did not reveal it. The Zabrak look pained and distressed. His usual brashness was apparently absent as he spoke:

“Trev… it’s been years.” Mejas began, his low gravelly voice, unmistakable to Master Caerick’s ears.

“Yes it has, Mejas.”

“Dajorra has come under attack from the Vong. Sarin refuses to lend aide, like the coward that he is.”

“What is the situation?”

“Three Destroyer analogs, with support craft. Valor’s Fall and Eye of the Abyss are already under heavy attack. “

Trevarus considered this for a moment. Clan Arcona had not rebuilt their fleet as quickly as the Dlarit Corporation had, after the Battle of the Shroud. Their territory sat in the middle of Hutt Space, which too was experiencing heavy assault by the Far Outsiders.

“Mejas, even at top cruising speed, it would require twelve hours to reach Dajorra, and that’s in addition to even our fastest deployment Withdraw your forces, if possible. Save lives, and I will send the Orian Defense Force to bolster your fleet.”

“Already underway Trevarus. Are you forgetting who you are talking with here?” As Mejas bowed he gave a faint, although visible sneer as the hologram disconnected. Trevarus cursed loudly as he rekeyed his communicator. Even in a time of need the Shadow Lord was as abrasive as ever, but this was nothing new to Trevarus.

“Communications, route me to Nestor.”

“Yes sir.”

After a second, the image of Admiral Nestor stood on the projector.

“Yes, Governor?”

“Prepare the Final Way and Covenant, with their supports for immediate combat deployment to Dajorra. The Harbinger’s command will remain in the Orian System.”

“What are the circumstances?”

“An ally has called upon the Dlarit Corporation for assistance against the Yuuzhan Vong. This operation will require all haste, and the crews most seasoned against the Far Outsiders. Admiral Simonetti in particular. Advise the Final Way to prepare for my arrival.”

“Understood sir.”

“Caerick out.”

Ashia… Trevarus called out into the Force.

Master Sadow, I just saw your orders posted to the network. What’s going on? The witch responded to his telepathic words.

Assemble the War Council… with all haste. We have just been offered a supreme opportunity. Trevarus replied

We have, or you have? Ashia asked.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Okay, Clan Arcona your orders for now are simple: Write where you are if you want to participate, and I’ll give you all a hint fictionally where you’re likely to be:
Blue Mist, you’ll be with Rho on the Darkest Night which is currently en-route (not in-system yet, I’ll write a post soon when the Expeditionary force arrives).
Soulfire: you’re all in the Arcona Citadel playing bodyguard for Mejas.
Prophecy Phyle, you’re all in the HQD Temple on Arconae Primus temple.
Everyone else, go nuts.

Clan Naga Sadow, Ashia and/or Trev will be keeping ya in line, but the basic idea at the moment is just to introduce yourselves and see who else is involved so we can work on the plot accordingly.

I’ll post the link to the competition details as soon as it’s approved, but the basic idea here is to have fun guys and make some new friends in the other clans – if anyone has any questions, just gimme a shout and I’ll help as best I can.

Good luck guys!

Marakith Skyhook
Quaestor Office
Private room

The Valheru sat in his chair, overlooking the sun setting behind the horizon. The orange hue
moving over the city below. He narrowed his eyes a moment, taking a glass of red bordeaux
to his lips and sipping slightly, it's taste a perfect setting for the scenery before him.

"So, my Quaestor, what was that urgent message about?"

"A War Council, within the hour, it sounded urgent." He said coldly, circling the liquid within the
glass, eying it a moment, before taking his gaze back to the sunset. The Krath Knight moved
to stand before him and her shadow was cast over his figure, and he gently looked upwards.

"Well Sith, time to go then." She said with a grin and he smirked in return.
He rose from his seat, standing right in front of her and he looked into her emerald eyes for a
slight moment, then moved off and grabbed his outer robe.

"Are you ready Xathia?" He said as he took the Livion O-Katana in his hand and placed the
lightsaber onto his belt.
"I'm always ready..." She said with a wink which forced him to grin and they moved out to the
Hangar bay to catch the first shuttle to New Sadow Palace where the War Council was held.

When he walked into the Hangar bay he already found his Uncle and his Brother waiting for him
and he smiled as he saw them.

"Uncle, Gather Sapphire Squardron, it'll be a bumpy ride..." Ylith said and Bob nodded.

"Ofcourse, and glad to have you back little Nephew." The Commander said with a smirk coming from
underneath his dark robes and Tyren moved up to embrace his slightly older brother.

"Brother, I have alerted the Jade Serpents, they will be on their way."

"Very good, assemble our forces the best you can, so when we say the word they just need to fasten
their seatbelts." The Valheru said and the younger Atema placed a hand on his Brother's shoulder.

Suddenly Tyren's mood darkened as he saw Xathia with him, holding the Quaestor's arm and the green
eyes of the Krath Priest was burning with rage. "You shouldnt have done to Jade what you did..."
"I did what I had to little Brother, in time you will see my actions were just...now step aside.."

Ylith pushed his brother aside with his shoulder, leaving Tyren gritting his teeth and on the break of
rage, he help it in as the patience that came with being a Krath paid off. He watched in silence as
the two boarded the shuttle and took off shortly after.

Zandro swallowed any further comment he may have felt like venting as the exchange with Sashar and Rho ended and the line went dead once more. With his new position as leader of House Qel-Droma he felt as though he was being pushed away from the action that came almost inherently with the job of Quaestor of House Galeres. Qel-Droma was the weaker house and even if it was at full strength, its main job was auxiliary support to the spear that was Galeres, something which irked the Sith Battlemaster no end.

Guess I’ll just have to show them that I’m still the best Arcona has in the sky. This should get interesting.

While the ship Zandro was flying was by no means a flying scrapheap, it wasn’t the best the Clan had to offer due to all of the fighting ships being kept with the fleet itself. The LAAT/i was ideally suited to atmospheric flight and had never been designed to be a craft with oodles of manoeuvrability, but Zandro knew that he would need to coax as much as he could out of the craft if he was to make it to the Arconan flagship alive.

“I know you weren’t built for this sort of thing, but get me through this and I will love you forever.”

Zandro didn’t need sensors to tell him that the battle was about to begin, the manoeuvring of the respective sides capitol ships as well as the feelings that he received through the Force about the Arconan forces told him all he needed to know. As he watched the giant craft move through space, the light of innumerable numbers of plasma and laser bolts suddenly leapt from either side and out towards their opponents.

It’s really hit the fan now. I was hoping I wouldn’t have to do too much evasive flying to get to the Abyss, but I think that hope has gone out of the window now.

Zandro brought the craft forwards at full speed and kept an eye on his sensors, knowing that as soon as the coralskippers got in range, he would be toast. It was going to be a close call to get to the ship before he was caught by the enemy fighters, but to make it to the ship in the first place he had to dodge the large amount of weapons fire that was filling up space before him. He steadied his mind with a deep breath and plunged headlong into the miasma of colours, his hands moving in tune with the Force to carry him around the various bolts and missiles that were littered around. He pulled the craft up, bringing it just above a proton torpedo that had seemingly come from nowhere before he hauled the piloting yoke sharply to the left to avoid a stray turbo laser blast. He carried on the pattern, his craft making as much headway as it could while also avoiding complete obliteration. There was only one occasion where one of the Vong plasma blasts clipped the craft and then another where a stray laser blast from one of the Arconan craft had grazed the hull of Zandro’s craft, and as he made his way out of the heaviest area of fighting, he let a sigh of relief escape his lips.

It was at that moment that the plasma blast hit the LAAT/i with a direct hit to the stern.

Zandro let out a single clipped curse as he fought to regain control of the now-stricken craft. He looked forward and saw the hangar bay of the Abyss, agonizingly close. With a single clear-cut thought, he knew what he had to do and he hastily banged the comm activation button and shouted aloud, all the while keeping the ship heading as straight as he could.

“Empty the officers hangar bay of all non-essential personnel, LAAT/i incoming and I don’t know how long I can keep her under control!”

Zandro places both of his hands back on the yoke and used all of his strength to wrestle the stick into staying as still as he could manage, the opening to the hangar growing rapidly in his front viewport.

Come on baby, hold it together for a few more seconds…

Zandro disengaged the thrusters a second before his craft reached and breached the magcon field of the hangar bay. The craft slammed into the ground and skidded along it, carrying it’s pilot at a dangerous speed. Concentrating his Force powers and knowing that they wouldn’t do much good, Zandro tried to slow his craft’s speed as much as he could, and he knew that it was going to be a close run thing. The LAAT/i kept skidding and suddenly slammed into the wall of the hangar, jarring Zandro from his seat and knocking him to the floor. He stayed on the ground for a few seconds as the metaphorical dust settled before standing up and opening the hatch, dropping down to the floor of the hangar as mechanics ran towards him and the craft. He turned around to look at the craft and grimaced at the sight which he saw. Turning back to the approaching mechanics, he attempted to turn the grimace into a grin as he spoke.

“Next time, they’d better give me something which can shoot back.”

Not waiting to see how his attempt at humour went down, Zandro headed for the door which would lead him to his half-brother and the mission that Sashar had ahead for him.

Overlord's Chambers
New Sadow Palace
Sepros

Astronicus sat in his chair petting the head of his pet Tuk'ata, Kren. He had recieved word from Trevarus of the operation and likewise his presence was requested at the War Council. He for his part, however, cared little for the other clans as long as his was the dominant one. Then again, should all of the clans fall leaving his to fight the Invaders on their own would be suicide.

Rising from his seat he ushered the Sith hound away and walked over to the nearby mannequin that his alchemy embued armor rested atop. He began equiping it over his robes, tightening the buckles to satisfaction, adjusting here and there to make for a somewhat comfortable fit. Muz had crafted it for him personally back when served as the Herald, before his rise in power. Astronicus had then used his gathered knowledge of Sith Alchemy to enhance and modify it's properties for his benefit.

Latching on his twin lightsabers lastly he stepped to the door and exited his chambers. It was not that long of a distance to the War Council room from his own and he arrived just as the meeting was beginning. Trevarus was standing around a large hologram projection table which showed a readout of the Dajorra system. Blue triangular icons depicted the forces of Clan Arcona while red was represented the Vong flottila. Arcona was in a state of withdrawl, the smaller vessels falling back while the larger comand ships covered their departure.

Trevarus carried on about how the clan's support of the other was of great importance. His student Vexatus stood at his side, his eyes darting around the room, finally locking on Astronicus with an ice cold glare. Trevarus continued his speech, detailing the deployment of the D-SOG forces and the assignments of the Conclave members. Finally he turned the meeting over to Ashia Keibatsu for further detailing of the proposed battle plan once the Arcona forces had recovered and grouped with Naga Sadow's.

Astronicus payed rapt attention to the details of where everyone would be and how it was being setup. Aside from himself, Vexatus was probably the next most capable command officer. Both had served in the Imperial Navy as Admirals, Astronicus' own experience having been in command of the Brotherhood's flagship and support vessels during the early days of it's fleet operations. He saw the potential of the plan that was being laid out, but also saw some minor if not tactically unsound flaws. No doubt Vexatus would correct his Master on these matters, so Astronicus held his tongue.

Astronicus contacted his Delta-class Advanced Commandoes, Cresh and Dorn, via text messaging so as not to interrupt the meeting. He advised them of the situation and ordered them to meet him aboard the Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way and to bring his Tuk'ata as well.

War Council
Sadow Palace
Sepros, Orian System
Domain of Clan Naga Sadow

The Consul moved swiftly through the corridors. A quick hiss and the door to the war room opened. The Zabrak entered quickly, and the doors slide shut behind

her quietly.

All eyes turned towards her as she moved to the opposite side of the room. She was a small woman but carried a strength with her that few opposed. She nodded

to each of the war council members briefly before beginning.

"We've received a call for aid from one of the clans. The Yuuzhan Vong have attacked and they will not be able to with stand the vast numbers without help."

Ylith tilted his head in her direction, "And just which clan is this that is in need of our...aid?"

The Quaestor looked at her questioningly.

"Arcona"

The word had barely slipped past her tongue when the heat started to rise in the room and a low rumble of malcontent could be heard.

"So why are we even here? The disdain in the Quaestor's voice could be heard clearly. Ylith's hatred for the other clan was no secret. The bitterness and anger that

had followed him from that clan had never left him.

"Because once upon a time, they were our allies and because it is in our best interests to aid them." Trevarus Caerick enter the room and moved to Ashia's side

silently.

"You would risk our ships to save them? Have you gone soft, Caerick, or do you have something else in mind?"

Malisane looked intently at the two standing before the council.

"Let's just say, he's an old friend and we have the means to help him out, so we are. We will get the coordinates to you promptly. Ylith, Ashura...ready your battle

teams, we leave within the hour." The finality of his words closed the topic for discussion.

-----------
The War Council emptied with a few quiet grumbles heard here and there from those opposed to the idea. Once the room was empty, Vexatus emerged from the

shadows.

"I agree. It's pointless to waste our time and our...resources on this. Let the Vong wipe them out; saves us from having to." The Dark Lord's candidness was thick

and he spared no time in voicing his thoughts.

"I too am wondering what is in it for us." Ashia looked at Trev sideways. Her distrust of the Dark Jedi Master had increased during the invasion of Antei when he

had abandoned the Clan to the Vong for his own machinations. The mere thought of putting her still new fleet at risk, irritated the Consul to no end, but that he was

willing to go to another clans aid, perplexed her even more.

"For now, let's just say, we have the capacity to go to their aid." He said no more. A flicker of animosity flickered in his eyes for a moment then was gone.

BAC Darkest Night

On board the Bothan Assault Cruiser Darkest Night, events were rapidly breaking down into chaos. The Night was on its way to the site of battle, and their orders had been received. Quaestor Rho d’Tana had been in communication with the Proconsul, and he had in turn handed their orders down to Commander Talos Annedu. Now the Blue Mist squadron sat assembled in a small room, awaiting their quick briefing by the Commander.

Talos stepped forward, dressed in his full splendor. He smiled at the team, all present except for Dark Jedi Knight Illian Syn. Illian was, as always, with the Proconsul as his aide and companion. The commander cleared his throat, making eye contact with his Corporal who sat in the back row of the briefing room.

“Boys, our mission is a difficult one today. We are prepared to enter into battle with the enemy fleet, and I just received our orders. Upon arrival at the battle, the Darkest Night will begin its long range firing on the enemy, and Blue Mist will be dispatched to lead the fighter squadrons against the enemy.

Time is of the essence. We need to quickly and efficiently engage and take the initiative, prepared to take full space superiority of all starfighter squadrons. If the Eye of the Abyss is critically damaged or destroyed during the battle, a full retreat will have to be order, in which case we will be in charge of covering it.

Any questions?” Talos’ smile had long since faded as he issued the orders for their grim mission. Legorii was sitting in the back, so he could not see the faces of the rest of the team to read their responses to the orders. The Corporal stood up and walked to the front, clapping the different members of the team on the backs.

“Friends, today we are called upon to perform one of the most difficult tasks we have yet been faced with, to lead an entire Clan fighter force to victory against all odds. And yet, I am confident in how well we can carry out such commands when I stand here and look upon the faces of each and every one of you. For I know that before me is a core group of pilots, warriors at heart. Do Arcona proud, do Galeres proud, do Talos and I proud, do yourselves proud!”

With his eloquence finished, Legorii bowed slightly to his comrades and then turned briskly and exited the briefing room. He did not wait for dismissal from the Commander, but he never did anyways. He strode down the hall, his black cloak flowing out behind him. The lower personnel got out of his way; it was only other Dark Jedi that did not move from his path. In their arrogance and haste, rank and stature was ignored both ways.

Legorii hurried off to the hangar, where he had no intention of flying the standard A-9 Vigilance interceptors. This was not a time to scout, at least not in his opinion, so he would be exercising his newfound privilege as the Galeres Prodigy to override command of any official short of Rho to fly that fighter instead. He was wearing just his Jedi Hunter robes and mantle, he did not wear the Blue Mist armor when piloting.

The hangar was vast, and Blue Mist’s squadron of fighters was in one corner. Legorii did not even glance in that direction, instead electing to head for the other side. He looked around for a few minutes, examining the ships there. Personnel were scurrying about attending to their duties, and Legorii paid no attention to them.

His eyes rested on a clean and freshly painted TIE Avenger, and he decided on it immediately. He notified the officer on duty that he would be flying that fighter if anyone else attempted to take it. He was sure that the ship would serve him well. It had good weapons capability, speed and mobility, as well as resilience. If he was to be flying point for the Arconan forces, he needed a ship he could trust.

Legorii then left the hangar, pleased but acutely feeling the impending pressure and danger. He idly walked the corridors of the ship, soothing the turbulent feelings at war within him. The ship was a nice ship, and everyone was bustling about preparing for this conflict.

There was no chance that Blue Mist would not shine in this battle. They had trained rigorously for a moment like this, pouring their sweat and blood into the relentless preparations that they had been subject to in order to best serve Clan Arcona and House Galeres. Legorii was looking forward to seeing the team, his pride and joy, prove themselves in the heat and pressure of combat.

Their Quaestor, Rho, would surely have further orders. Legorii assumed he was on the bridge, but did not go there. Of course the Commander would probably go to the bridge immediately, off to talk with his Master. Strategos was here somewhere, he was always present. No doubt he would subtly influence the warriors of the Clan with his attained skill in the Dark Side, fueling their efforts.

In a way, the Jedi Hunter wished his Master was at his side at this time. A reassuring hand, a grin, a whisper. Anything. But instead, Strategos tended to his own matters, and Legorii respected that, and dared not intrude. So Legorii went and made sure he was entirely ready for the combat that was to come, hanging out near the hangar for the moment of arrival, the moment of engagement.

New Sadow Castle
Sepros
Quaestor Lounge

The Valheru gritted his teeth and frowned at the Clan Summit's descision. It wouldnt be the first
time Ludo Kressh would defy Naga Sadow, as the Sith Lords themselves had a rich history of
deception, defiance and betrayal, still this was different.

Ylith resented the fact that he had to save the Clan he vowed to destroy one day. He had spilled
his words within the chamber, Xathia, a younger Krath Dark Jedi Knight, was with him, sitting on a
chair sipping some of the fine bordeaux wine served within the lounge.

"Why do we come to the aid of those who did not heeded ours?" The Sith spat, kicking a chair in anger
as he himself was powerless against the decision of the Clan Summit.
"Indeed....Why should we?" Xathia said in a calm voice, her lips curling slightly as her words betrayed
a thought hidden. The Battlemaster turned to her and narrowed his eyes.
"Go on..."

"They assume we come for their rescue, yet they are weakened by the Vong...ever heard of the Fox and
the Scorpion? The Scorpion asked the Fox to help him across the river, the Fox however, was careful and
asked 'I will, yet you must vow never to sting me.' and the Scorpion replied, 'but ofcourse, I vow this to you.'"

"What are you getting at?" The Sith said impatiently and she placed a finger on his lips and tilted her
head slightly, her emerald eyes ablaze as her lips curled more.

"As the Fox was swimming with the Scorpion on his back, the Scorpion stung him as he was halfway
there. 'You vowed yet you betray, why?' The Fox said and the Scorpion silently whispered..."

She moved closer, kissing the Sith slightly, then looking into his eyes again, then said in an evil toned whisper,

"Because it's in my nature...."

His serpent eyes met hers and he nodded, grinning silently, for now he would go with the plan untill the right
time struck.

The Sith Commander, Talos Annedu, swept through the corridors towards the BAC Darkest Nights bridge, where his Master and Quaestor, Rho 'Dynamite' d'Tana was preparing the cruiser for battle. "My Master" said Talos, dropping to one knee and lowering his head. "Rise my Apprentice and report" ordered the Nagai, motioning for Talos to join him at the main viewport. "Sir, Blue Mist is ready to deploy upon your command and Legorii is taking a TIE Avenger" the Galeres Adjunct explained. "Good...yet you feel uneasy. What is it Talos?" asked the d'Tana, turning and walking back down the bridge, his Apprentice following him. "I feel that I should stay here and protect you. If the Vong hit the Darkest Night, your death would deal such a crippling blow to Galeres and Arcona and now is surely not the time" confessed the Sith Hunter. "I see...well your job is to make sure they don't hit the Night and that I don't die" answered Rho, a small grin playing across his face. "Yes sir...so are we to deploy?" asked the Sith. "Yes...get Blue Mist to their A-9s and get ready" ordered Rho. "Yes my Master" said Talos, turning and striding out of the bridge area, his cloak sweeping behind him. Stopping at a holo-terminal, Talos keyed in his private code and established a link with Jade Annedu, his wife, currently on Dantooine, safely away from the conflict. "Hey love" greeted the Valheru. "Talos! What is going on?" questioned his wife. "The Vong are taking on Arcona. Eldar was not safe" the Commander explained. "Well alright, you come back here safely. I will not be widowed and have Artorius grow up without a father" said Jade sternly, picking up their son and holding him to the screen. "Hi Arto" said Talos, waving a single tear coming to his face. Jade made Artorius wave back, his pudgy hand shaped in a fist. "Well I love you and so does Artorius...see you soon" Jade said then cut the feed. Talos wiped the tear away and continued his way to the hangar.

As the Sith Commander walked into the hangar he saw everyone assembled in the Blue Mist corner of the hangar, even Legorii, who had the Avenger he would be using moved over to the Blue Mist corner. "Men, get ready and go on standby" said Talos beforing using the Force to leap up and board his own A-9. The Galeres warrior pulled on his mask and it connected with the ships systems and displayed the HUD in the visor. "Blue Mist report in" ordered Talos. "Blue 1...Avenger is green...this is such a great ship. Think you could talk to Sashar after this is over?" answered Legorii. "I'll see what I can do. Blue 3?" asked Talos, as Blue 2 was Illian but he was currently with Sashar Arconae. "Yep, I'm all blue" answered JS. "Blue 4, I'm good" reported Dorn. "Blue 5 here...I am ready to kick some Vongese" said Dathka. "Blue 6 here...hey what does this button do ha ha?" Raith Xdero reported in. "Right, all Squadrons, link up with Blue Mist channel and go on standby" annouced the Sith, using a link to the entire hangar system. "Commander Annedu, all Squadrons are good" reported a Galeres pilot. "Excellent, Rho should be giving the comm--" started Talos but then stopped as his Masters voice came over the Squadron channels. "All Squadrons of Darkest Night. This is Quaestor Rho d'Tana. The time has come for your deployment. Follow Blue Mist Squadron into the battle and bring me back some Vong trophies!" announced Rho. "Right, you heard the man, all Squadrons power up!" announced Talos and Blue Mist powered up their ships and flew out of the hangar, the other Squadrons following him.

Talos juked and jinxed as his A-9 weaved in and out of the plasma fire from both sides of the battle. "Alright here we go, Dark Rain break off" ordered the Commander. "Copy that, Dark Rain breaking off" responded the Rain leader and the other half of the Darkest Nights flanked off towards the left, leaving Blue Mist to go dead-center. "Ha ha...I think I killed one" intoned Raith. "Actually no...that was one of us" answered Legorii from his Avenger. "Are you serious?" asked Raith. "No" replied Legorii, weaving through the fire from the Vong coralskippers, blasting with no hesitation. "Heh..." said Talos as he switched power to his thrusters and barrel rolled over JS's A-9, ending the life of a Vong as he closed in from the Knights left flank. "Woah...that was close" said Dathka as he had banked upwards and made two coralskippers collide into each other. "Sir, this is Dark Rain leader, half of my Squadron is taking heavy fire and we have already lost two K-Wings, we need assistance" explained the Dark Rain leader. "This is Blue Mist on our way. The rest of the attack force, take the attack to the Vong!" ordered Talos and the seven Battleteam ships flew towards the coordinates that pinpointed Dark Rains location. Upong arrival, Blue Mis saw atleast two squadrons of coralskippers blasting away at the K-Wings of Dark Rain and then a chase ensued, with the K-Wings dodging the best they could through the the battlefield, the coralskippers following and Blue Mist following them, blasting away. "Alright that's one squadron down, now do Plan-Bravo!" announced the Sith Commander. "Yes sir! Wait...we have a Plan-Bravo?" asked Legorii. "We do now...follow my lead" said Talos and he put his A-9 into reverse. Talos read the text that was displayed inside his visor. It read; "Dark Rain is turning around, brining the coralskippers back to you, be ready". As Blue Mist rocketed the other way, the eight red blips of a squardon of coralskippers appeared on the radar. "Blue Mist, fire proton torpegos...now!" screamed Talos and he let loose his entire rack of them, as did his men and the white tails of over 42 proton torpedoes shot forward out into deep space...just as the squadron of coralskippers appeared, a vast majority of the torpedoos finding marks, all the Dark Rain oppresors vanished in a fiery gout of flame. "Thanks Blue Mist, Dark Rain is heading back towards the Darkest Night for repairs and re-arming" reported the Galeres leader of the squadron. "Copy that, Blue Mist will escort you" responded Talos and the Squadrons of Blue Mist and Dark Rain flew back towards the Darkest Night.

The repair crews swarmed over the A-9s of Blue Mist, the Avenger of Legoriis and the K-Wings of Dark Rain and Talos found himself walking the hangar, inspecting the progress. The Commander spared a look down at his chrono and let out a small groan. They had been out there for two hours but the Sith knew it was just beginning.

Armory, Temple Quel Droma
Eldar

Kant Lavar walked out of the House Armory, settling his personal weapon - a DL-44 blaster pistol - into its holster at his hip. A bandolier of power packs for it and his primary weapon was around his shoulders, and a StarAnvil heavy rifle was slung over his shoulder.

Lavar felt a grimace pass over his face as he headed for one of the fighting positions being dug in around the Quel Droma temple - the only Force-users on the planet were Prophecy Phyle, and most of their members were preparing for a Battle Meditation ritual. Lavar, a mere Obelisk Acolyte who had been essentially ignored since he'd returned to the Brotherhood, would be no help to the ritual, so instead he decided that he'd simply do what he could: grab a weapon, and take as many of the damned Vong with him as he could.

Weapons and ammo settled, he unslung the StarAnvil and started running for the exit. Well, if he wasn't significant enough for the House to even tell him his services weren't needed, to hell with them. If he didn't even rate that much consideration, to be told he was no better than a mundane in this, he'd go out and damned well fight with the mundanes. Blinking as he exited the temple into the sunlight - it was, perversely enough, a beautiful day on Eldar - Lavar headed for the closest contingent of ground defense forces.

By now, the three Warrior-gunships had formed around the flagship and were acting as a fighter screen whilst the 36 TIE Avengers assigned to the Abyss tried to give a little fight back to the Coralskippers. It was barely holding.

“Proconsul! The Creeping Darkness has just decanted, and her captain reports that they’ll be attempting a Thrawn Pincer.” The Communications officer reported and Sashar nodded.

The Thrawn Pincer involved an Interdictor Cruiser setting up on a fleet’s flight path and powering up her gravity wells, dragging the fleet from hyperspace prematurely so they’d be directly into the action without having to maneuver much at sublight. It was a brilliant use of the Interdictor that allowed rapid deployment in emergencies, and was an inspired choice in this particular engagement, as it’d bring the Expeditionary Force out directly behind the Vong flotilla, however, it did mean that the Creeping Darkness would be awfully exposed for around about a minute.

The Mandalorian frowned as he took a detailed look at the sensor readings. The Interdictor was running on stealth protocols while her gravity wells powered up and since the Vong’s attention would be focused before them, it was incredibly unlikely that she’d be noticed, however one of the Vong destroyers was already turning to broadside the cruiser.

“Communications, warn the Creeping Darkness that they’ve been spotted and are to deploy a fighter screen accordingly.” He ordered promptly.

“Sashar, look at this.” Illian suggested as he stared over the shoulder of one of the communication officers at the flatscreen displaying an encoded transmission coming from mid-ship to the Vong flotilla.

The Proconsul’s eyes hardened. They had a mole.

“Illian, find the source of that transmission and track that chakaar down. I want him alive, though, so no dismembering.

“I’ll do what I can.” Syn drawled and swept from the Bridge.

Sashar pulled out a comlink and flicked it onto the Intelligence channel.

“Major Kemp, communications will be sending a transmission over to Encrypt that needs decoding ASAP – it was just tight-beamed over to the Vong flotilla and could be vital intelligence.”

“Acknowledged. We’ll get right on it.”

-=[]=-

The ship rocked again as yet another salvo of plasma skipped through the shields and impacted against the surface of the Destroyer, and Zandro tried to block out the abruptly ended screams of pain and terror he felt wave through the force as the lives of another few crewmembers were snuffed out. He reached the bridge moment later and was surprised at what he saw. The crew was working quietly, only shouting out when they had to, otherwise they were reporting to Captain Sulaco and Sashar with the air of a seasoned, battle-hardened unit. However, this was impossible, as the crew of the Abyss had only seen battle once before. Then it dawned on him.

Mejas’s battle meditation.

Curiously, Sashar’s latest sycophant Illian wasn’t present, but Zandro paid it no heed and stalked down the catwalk to the Proconsul. He still didn’t trust his brother, not since he’d renounced the Erinos name, however he still respected him as a competent leader of their forces, and bringing personal issues into a battle like this would be counterproductive in the extreme.

“Your orders?”

“Zandro, you’re the best pilot in the clan. I need you to lead Shade Squadron on a covert bombing mission. We need to take out at least one of those destroyers and we can’t do it with conventional weaponry. I have 24 radiation bombs which need to be peppered all over that far destroyer. None of them can miss or be absorbed by their dovin basals – each of them has to hit the hull in order for the radiation to be released in sufficient doses to kill the crew inside, and hopefully mess up the ship itself. You think you can do it?”

The Quaestor nodded, giving away no emotion. He turned to leave before Sashar could say anything else, but the Proconsul stopped him.

“Zand’ika-“ His half-brother turned to face him, his face stony and impassive. The Prelate had his words knocked from him and nodded once. Nothing more needed to be said.

-=[]=-

“Expeditionary Force decanting!” Shouted the Sensor officer and the Mandalorian glanced up just in time to see the silhouettes of two Bothan Cruisers and a Majestic-Cruiser get dragged from hyperspace right behind the Vong formation. The bothans immediately disgorged fighters and the cruisers peppered the nearest cruiser with fire and Sashar breathed a sigh of relief. They’d stand a chance of fighting the Vong to a standstill now.

“Give Shade Squadron clearance to launch.” The Proconsul ordered.

The floor beneath his feet shuddered again and everyone on board realised that they were nowhere near out of danger yet.

“So, we hear you’re quite a good pilot then Zandro?”

The Battlemaster grinned as he headed with the rest of Shade Squadron towards the hangar bay from the ready room where they had all hastily prepared themselves for flight and gotten to meet their temporary leader.

“I know which buttons to press, which is more than can be said for some people. Then again, I’m not exactly a bad pilot by any means, but you’ll get to see that in a minute.”

Using the Force to depress the button that would open the door at the end of the corridor, Zandro swept through the now open door and into the largest hangar of the ship, pleased by the bustling but co-ordinated activity that was being shown by the various personnel on station. He led the collection of pilots towards the twelve TIE Phantoms which sat waiting for their pilots to come and take them towards the battle that raged on the other side of the magcon field.

“Helmets on boys, lets get this party started.”

Walking up to his designated craft, he clambered up the ladder and then let himself drop down into the cockpit, securing himself in and starting up the pre-flight checklist before he had even really begun to take his bearings. Having flown a Phantom for over a year in his past, Zandro knew what he was doing the with the craft and was glad to see that as long as it had been since he flied one of the craft, he hadn’t lost any of the edge which had proved so useful in the past.

“How is everyone set up?”

Letting the sound of the various pilots’ readiness reports wash over him, Zandro took a closer look around the cockpit to notice any extra changes that he expected to find. Noting very few, the only ones of note were the two new switches which each release one of the radiation bombs that his craft was carrying. He knew that the run would not be easy, 24 hits on a Vong ship was never a task to be taken lightly, and he knew that he would have to get very close before releasing the bombs in order to make sure that the run would succeed. However he’d done close-range bombing runs before and was not particularly worried about it. As the last of his temporary command reported in, Zandro slowly increased the throttle of his craft and brought it forwards towards the exit of the hangar, his Force senses telling him that even though they had not been ordered to, his pilots were following his example.

Good, they can be trusted to survive on their own if I find myself with more to worry about than I’d like. These are good pilots, thankfully.

“Maintain comm silence if at all possible. You all know the mission, you all know the target. If we fail, Arcona will be in that much more trouble so we must succeed here today. Good luck pilots, may the Dark Side guide your trigger fingers.”

Zandro’s craft slipped through the gravity field of the hangar and he immediately increased the throttle to full and engaged the stygium cloaking device that gave the TIE Phantom its greatest strength. Concentrating all of his senses on the path ahead of him, Zandro kept a light hand on the piloting stick, gently gliding it away from the various fighters and beams that littered the path leading up to his designated target. One of the craft that went past him he recognised as a Blue Mist interceptor and he let a small smile grow on his face. They weren’t under his command any more thanks to his new position as leader of Qel-Droma, but he was still glad that they continued to go strong and he knew that they would be giving the Vong something to deal with and to distract them with while he made his attack run. Carrying on his relatively straight path, the distance to the Vong ship rapidly dropped as it simultaneously grew in his forward viewport. It was spewing plasma in various directions, winking out lives of his comrades with almost every blast and Zandro let this knowledge and the anger that it brought to him slowly build up in his chest.

You’ve had your fun, now it’s our turn.

Bringing his craft up and around a large outcropping of the ship, Zandro piloted his Phantom and brought it so that he was flying almost directly above the hull of the enemy ship, dodging and jinking around the various blasts, both enemy and friendly, that filled the sky before him. As he carried on his flight and slowly crept closer towards the surface of the enemy ship, he felt a twinge from the Force and pulled his craft up and barrel rolled it to the side in one swift motion, barely avoiding the blast emanating from one of his squadmates’ radiation bombs. Following his pilots suit, Zandro dove his craft down and as soon as he was around fifty metres above the enemy craft, he released his first radiation bomb and hauled his craft up and away from the blast that was imminently going to follow. His craft shook as the shockwaves from the bombs explosion buffeted him and he headed out towards an area of empty space, his comm unit activated and dialled to the Eye of the Abyss’s frequency.

“How many explosions were there on the enemy destroyer with that salvo?”

Several tense seconds passed before he got the reply back from the Arconan flagship.

“Eleven. Repeat, eleven explosions on that pass.”

The bottom of Zandro’s stomach seemed to disappear as he switched the frequency over to Shade Squadron’s.

“Who missed with their bomb?”

His voice was deadly quiet, and he barely constrained the anger that threatened to burst from his chest.

“Shade Eight reporting, I think it was me.”

Zandro let all of the anger that was filling him slowly seep into his words as he spoke once more.

“We are going to have a little talk when we get back Shade Eight, that is if this Vong cruiser doesn’t survive our next run and destroy our flagship. Prepare for the second run, and if any of you miss this time I swear on my life that I will make you regret it. Arcona is counting on us and we cannot afford to fail. Not now, not ever.”

Swinging his ship back around, Zandro prepared for the second run on the enemy capital ship, his rage barely controlled as the possible scenarios of how this battle could end began to play through his mind, distracting him at the worst possible time.

New Sadow Castle


We just got through with the Vong, and already we are fighting them again

It irritated Fenris that he would have to "help" those that seemed superior to him. There was no need for him to join the battle with Arcona, he was but a journeyman, what possible difference could he make? He walked towards his closet, taking out his "armor" which consisted of a black robe and black face mask, and put it on. He checked to make sure the face mask's electronics were working, everything was good, and despite his unwillingness to fight, he walked towards the armory, which held his two favorite toys, his sword and shield.

As Fenris walked towards the hangar he ran into his old friend, Vorion, who was also in combat gear, ready to fight for glory of Naga Sadow, and the skin of Arcona.

"Time to work our magic once again, eh Vor?" joked Fenris. The Ubese just nodded, he could tell Fenris didn't wish to go back to fighting the Vong, it'd be fine if it were to save his own clan, but it was to protect Arcona, a clan Fenris had no past prejudices with but why Naga Sadow? Why not Tarentum or Taldrya? Surely they could help as well.

Fenris departed Vorion's presence, making his way towards the shuttle that would take the bulk of the fighting force to the Final Way. Despite all his thoughts against fighting the Vong, he couldn't wait to fight with the Clan once more.

Temple Qel-Droma
Arconae Primus

Draco Maligo strode through the cold dark halls of the massive stone edifice, dressed simply in his black robes, hood pulled down over his eyes. Even before he was ordered to report to the meditation chamber he could feel the echoes undulating through the Force. It started out as a faint psychic hum, barely discernible against the normal backdrop of Force sensations, then grew in size and intensity until even the weakest Force-user could no longer ignore it.

Though the details of the situation were obscure to the Dark Jedi Knight, still he could feel the desperation in the ether. The power of the Force nexus nestled within the temple amplified sensations from every part of the galaxy. Down the main corridor Draco passed silently, his footsteps issuing no sound and his aura wafting the merest fading wisp of his shadowy presence as he listened intently to the whispering waves of energy.

Quejo was standing in the chamber, at the head of the small circle of Prophecy phyle members, their ranks decimated by strife and cowardly desertions. As Maligo and a couple of other late members entered the room they melded into the circle, and their battle team leader filled in the details of their mission.

Soon the group of Krath settled down to the floor and surrendered themselves to the Force. They reached out into its nebulous presence and groped around for each other. As powerful as some of the members were, and as good as their command of the Force, still a group of Jedi acting in concert, for a common goal, increased their potency exponentially beyond the mathematical sum of the number of beings participating.

Once the circle was joined and the Force meld established, the group, now acting with a single will, reached out through time and space for the battle raging light-years away. It wasn’t hard to do. The raw anger, stark terror, and emotionally-charged bitterness of the fight spewed crashing waves reverberating out through the Force. The seasoned Krath reached out to their brethren, sending out sensations to the warriors. Awareness, strength, heightened purpose.

Even though the Vong were invisible in the Force, still a number of the Prophecy phyle members learned how to read their wake through the ether, much like physicists learned to detect the gravitational pull of dark matter by its effects on the visible. The Force meditation gave the combatants 360 degree awareness, enabling them, without thinking or planning, to coordinate their flying and shooting into a beautifully synchronized display of martial might.

Commander Talos Annedu walked back towards the bridge of the Darkest Night but met Rho d'Tana on the way. Reversing direction, Talos followed his Master and briefed him on the current status. "As you know we have arrived behind Vong lines and all squadrons are reporting in as ready to go, except for Shade as they will be undertaking the bombing run" explained Talos. "Excellent. Get to your ship and bring us honor" responded Rho. "Yes my Master" said Talos and the armored figure was about to turn towards the hangar when his Master stopped him. "And Talos..."began the Nagai. "Yes my Master?" asked the Adjunct. "Do come back alive" quipped the Galeres Quaestor. "I always do Master" answered Talos before vanishing into the hangar.

The Sith walked quickly through the hangar, examining the final touches that were being put into the repair of Blue Mist Squadron and Dark Rain. Just then his commlink went off. "Talos, this is Sashar, the Squadrons from the Abyss are ready when you launch" said Sashar. "Copy that, thank you sir" answered Talos then clicked off. That was it then, all the other Squadrons that were temporairly under Blue Mists control had signed in and now they were ready to go. Staring out through the magcon field and into the black void of space, Talos saw the void get peppered with plasma and explosisons. Turning away, Talos announced "Right, Dark Rain and Blue Mist, get ready we are hooking up with the Squadrons from the Abyss, Creeping Darkness, Shadow and of course, the Night". With that, Talos check his gear and sprinted towards his A-9 Interceptor and as before, used the Force to propel him in. His mask already on, Talos linked his HUD into the mask and powered up the blue starfighter, setting it on its repulsors. "Blue and Dark report in" ordered Talos. "Dark Rain is ready" confirmed the Rain commander. "Blue Mist is good sir" added Legorii. "Dorvik, you all right in there?" asked Talos. Dorvik was seated in a spare A-9 and was Illians replacement. "Yes sir" responded the new pilot. "Good then lets go, we'll swoop by each of the ships and the Squadron will follow our lead. Lets roll!" shouted Talos and he brought his A-9 to open thrusters and shot out of the hangar.

Back in space the Squadrons of Dark Rain and Blue Mist flew by the Abyss, the Darknes and the Shadow and picked up their Squadrons. In the lead A-9, Talos, garbed in his Revn-esque armor issued orders as plasma bolts took lives from both sides. "Dark Rain, stay with me, Abyss and Darkness squadrons, flank off towards the right, Shadow squadrons, take the left. "Yes sir" came the replies of the commanders from the respective squadrons. "Sir, this is Rain Commander, we have locks on coralskippers, permission to follow and engage?" asked the Rain Commander. "Granted, but we are going with you, we can distract them while you do what K-Wings were designed to do" replied Talos and gave the command for the two remaining Squadrons to follow the lock ons of Rain squadron. Sure enough, coralskippers were just entering the battlefield from a Vong Destroyer. Just then a 'whoosh' was heard overhead and the men of Shade Squadron, led by Quaestor Zandro Savric Erinos, flew overhead, angling for that same destroyer. "Right, Blue Mist, go dogfight. Dark Rain, take our distractions and use those torpedos for a reason" ordered the Sith Hunter. The two Squadrons enaged the coralskippers and began dogfighting with them, as Dark Rain picked off the coralskippers. Then...everything went to hell, really really fast. Two more squadrons of coralskippers appeared in the horizon and sped towards their brothers. "[Expletive Deleted]! Commander Annedu, I've lost two of Dark Rain in the past minute!" screamed the Rain Commander. "I saw, Blue Mist is taking heavy damage as well, pull back! Lead them towards the main engagement!" ordered Talos. "Copy! Damn it, DR 3 is expiriencing engine damage! He won't last" announced the Commander of Rain. "Right, have him pull back towards the nearest flagship that as an opening" ordered Talos. As Blue Mist and Dark Rain led the coralskippers back towards the main fight, they began taking heavy damage. "Sir! My shields are out!" said Dathka. "Mine as well Commander" agreed Raith. "Right, alright. Blue Mist, Spear-Head formation!" announced Talos. The Blue Mist Squadron converged and they formed a spear shape, putting the injured ships in the middle. Talos brought up the rear with Legorii and JS taking the sides and the new pilot, Dorvik heading up the front. Out of nowhere, as the two Squadrons were just passing the Eye of the Abyss the front of the spearhead exploded."DORVIK!!" screamed Talos as the new pilots A-9 vanished in a firey end. To make things worse, the space winds made the parts fly backwards so the rest of the Spear-Head had to dodge the parts of their fallen comrade. As the Sith Commander was re-aligining his A-9, he looked out of the starboard viewport and Dorviks body flew passed, his face masked in fright and anguish forevermore. Slamming on his controlboard, Talos announced to Blue Mist. "Men, we have lost Dorvik. May he rest in peace forevermore. We cannot take any risks now, if a fully shielded A-9 can go out like that, Dathka and Raith are in even more danger. So you two, get back to the Night and get your ships repaired ASAP. The rest of us, light skirmishes only" ordered Talos. The two injured A-9s limped towards the Darkest Night while the rest flanked off towards the middle of the battle. "Evasive manuvers men, lets do this" said Legorii. Their shields glowing red from the repetive fire they were taking from coralskippers and other enemies alike, the four remaining Blue Mist troopers backlit their thrusters and banked downwards towards the fight. 'Blood was already shed and more blood would be shed' reflected Talos Annedu, Adjunct of Galeres, Sith Commander of Blue Mist, proud Apprentice of Rho 'Dynamite' d'Tana and loving father and husband.

Expeditionary Fleet, BAC Darkest Night
Thrawn Pincer Movement
TIE Avenger

It was time.

The Expeditionary fleet dropped out of hyperspace directly behind the main Yuuzhan Vong force, and over the intercom all forces were immediately cleared for launch. Legorii was already ready in his TIE Avenger, one of the few fighters of that kind that was with the Arconan fleet but not already in flight with the capital ship. He was just finishing up completing his pre-flight checklist, getting a feel for the controls. The Jedi Hunter had run this craft through some practice runs back at headquarters, but never before in a combat maneuver.

As he finished up the checklist, he glanced over at the other pilots of Blue Mist. The others had all finished their checklists, priming their engines and making sure the weapons were ready. All were sitting in their A-9’s, the Vigilance interceptors the signature ships of the team. In a way, Legorii felt like a traitor for taking an Avenger, but the feeling quickly faded as his fingers and eyes explored the console and weapons.

Commander Talos flashed Legorii a thumbs up, and the hangar bay doors slid open. Personnel were running about, making sure all the bases were covered before the squadrons were launched. Apparently there were no problems, because all the ships were immediately cleared by the controller. Legorii tapped the piloting stick, and urged the Avenger forward. It shot off the hangar floor, out of the bland prison that had occupied it since its last engagement.

The Avenger, nicknamed Scope, plunged out into the cold vacuum of space and the deadly battle that awaited it and its daring pilot. Laserfire and plasma dazzled Legorii, green and red and all manner of colors on the spectrum flashing back and forth. The Yuuzhan Vong fleet looked impending and intimidating, but the Blue Mist pilots were reassured by the presence of the quick and courageous Arconan ships. Legorii flipped a switch on his console, taking the piloting stick with his left and the primary laser cannons with his right.

He glanced to either side, seeing the other Blue Mist pilots form up around their commander. Legorii took the point position, as he always did. The formation moved as one, breaking off to engage a group of yorik-et. Legorii eased the controls of his Avenger to fire on the first coralskipper, but the Yuuzhan Vong pilot executed a masterful roll and dodged the lasers. He fired his plasma weapons, and Legorii dove under the other fighter to dodge.

Talos and Dathka were already engaging another, and JS unleashed his laserfire on a third. The orderly way in which Blue Mist had flown was breaking down into individual dogfights, a shootout. The pilots buzzed around each other, with the warring capital ships providing a magnificent backdrop to the combat. The Dark Side pumped through Legorii’s veins, fueling him, pushing him forward. He sensed his brethren nearby, each holding their own against the coralskippers, but he was preoccupied with the target he was dogfighting. The Yuuzhan Vong enemy was quick, but could not think outside the box. The two pilots zoomed around each other, guns blazing between them.

The Anzat yawed left, the Yuuzhan Vong dipped down. Legorii’s eyes gleamed as he delighting in the combat all around him. Is this how Illian Syn felt when he went in for the kill, this rushing joy, this ecstasy? Was this the gift of the Dark Side of the Force to its greatest warriors, its greatest practitioners? Perhaps this feeling he tasted was just a hint of the grand meal he would feast upon once he could fully unleash the power of the Force on a whim.

Adrenalin pumped with the Dark Side, a deadly combination for his foes. Legorii whirled the stick again, pushing right. This time the other pilot was too slow, as he tried to twist out of the path of Legorii’s lasers. He jammed his finger on the trigger, and a quick volley burst from the ship. It connected this time, and the coralskipper wobbled in its path. Flames erupted on the sides of the ship, but were extinguished immediately from lack of oxygen.

The Yuuzhan Vong pilot tried frantically to keep his ship up and return fire, but was rapidly losing control. The ship dropped, diving and accelerating at an insane rate. It was plunging down, and Legorii didn’t care anymore, for it was finished. He felt the Dark Side surge within him, the first registered kill for the day.

The burst of power that followed that kill vanished the second Legorii turned around. The Yuuzhan Vong fleet was advancing, and the Arconans were barely holding their own. He sensed barely curbed panic spreading throughout the fleet, and knew that the only thing pinning that panic down was the Consul’s noble Battle Meditation. Blue Mist was faltering against the coralskipper onslaught and with them the other squadrons were being beaten back as well.

“Commander Talos, this is the Corporal. We are losing the edge, the enemy is overwhelming us in every sense of the word. Watch Raith’s flank, another coralskipper is moving in. What is the plan?” Legorii’s voice betrayed nothing, no fear or apprehension, as he broke the comm silence.

At first there was no reply, just a slight static murmur. Legorii wheeled about and assisted JS, who had a coralskipper on his tail. Then the Commander replied, surely with all of the team listening in.

“Corporal, this is not our battle to choose whether or not we fight. As the greatest pilots in House Galeres, we are tasked with facing these fiends in space, with the Dark Rain pilots by our sides. So…shut up and shoot.” His voice had a hard edge to it, as if it was the final word, but there was a grain of doubt in his words. Legorii bowed his head inside the Avenger, acknowledging his superior’s words. He opened fire on the coralskipper, who was forced to break off JS and turn about.

They were locked in this dogfight, and the Blue Mist pilots were facing increasingly tougher odds. It was only a matter of time before one of them was lost. And that pilot was Dorvik, the first Blue Mist casualty. The loss seemed to affect Talos particularly, who shouted out in grief and anger. He ordered the retreat, as some of the team was facing heavy damage.

Legorii turned his steely gaze on the coralskipper in front of him, with Dark Rain beginning to slip back away from the engagement. The other pilots were covering the retreat while taking evasive action, and Legorii thought back to Talos’ words just a little bit ago. Why should they retreat? The odds were enormously in the Yuuzhan Vong favor, but this was their duty to the Clan.

Could the team face the heat? No surrender, no retreat.

Sadow Palace
Sepros, Orian System

“I still can’t get over the fact Arcona has asked for our help, Master?” Jade said as walked next to Ashura.

“That, my apprentice is something we have yet to really see,” replied the Battlemaster as the two of them headed to the shuttle that would take them to Covenant. “The others are too blinded by loyalty to understand the workings of Trevarus, his motives and the consequences of them.”

Jade Atema looked at her Quaestor with confusion; Ashura had been the Krath Master’s Aedile back when Trevarus has assumed control of House Marka Ragnos. The Sith was able to get an inside at Caerick… one could even say the madness got to him? However that was only a rumour.

Lieutenant Governor Faeril Munlear and Commander Alexander Anderson were both waiting for Governor Isradia and Commander Atema to arrive; it didn’t surprise either of them to see the two arriving together. Although it wasn’t publicly known, few knew the Battlemaster had taken the Knight on to apprentice her in the ways of the Sith.

“Good, you hung around… alright listen up… We’re heading the Covenant and going to get the initial battle strategy in plan. This shouldn’t be too hard an assignment.” The Quaestor said.

The House Summit and Battleteam Leaders of House Marka Ragnos readied themselves for transport. They were all ready for the long odious day ahead of them.

---
OOC: It's short... I finished a thirteen hour shift today so my mind is a little blarg. Just getting a post out so you all know I am about. Heh.

Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way
Command Deck
Meeting Room

As the ship hoovered silently above Sepros, with the big brother 'Covenant' floating
right beside it, the Quaestor's mind lingered off to the future. Although it was said
that the trip would only take twelve hours as they would take a short cut using the
smugglers path past Iego, the Valheru cincerely doubted they would be in time to
lend any aid at all, at best, they would be just in time to pick up the pieces.

His lips curled at the thought, his serpent eyes reflected in the glass he looked through
and he suddenly felt two hands gently moving over his shoulders.

"So...my Scorpion Quaestor, any plans yet?" Xathia said with a grin, resting her head
on his shoulder.
"None we may speak off yet. Are we ready for departure?" He said, tilting his head slightly
to glance over his shoulder into her emerald eyes. "Soon we will, and soon we will have
more fun killing those silly little Arconans...how adorable they will look...begging for
help at our feet. Wouldn't that be wonderful my warrior?" She said with such a luring voice
he couldnt help but to grin and picture it in his mind. "Indeed it would."

"Govenor Atema." One of the ensign's said while he bowed just recently after entering the
room. "The Final Way is ready for departure, Sapphire Squadron is awaiting your command"

The Valheru nodded and the Ensign walked out again. The Sith moved to the table and he eyed
Xathia, who nodded and he pushed a button and opened a comm. link to the Hangar Bay.

"Uncle, prepare Sapphire for heavy Vong assaults and possible escort missions."

"Understood." Sounded the short answer from Bob, though Ylith knew full well that his Uncle
would not fail him. The Valheru moved back to the glass window and overlooked Sepros one
more time. The orange hue of the sun fading behind the planet was a sight to behold as the
darkness of shadow slowly crept over the planet.

The door whizzed open once more and Malisane moved to meet the Valheru. He has become
the Battlemaster's Black Guard and this would be the first time to shine.

"Govenor Atema, Lady Xathia." He said, bowing slightly. Then he moved his hand to the inside
of his coat and took out a bottle of Ewok Liqour. He then took three glasses already present
within the room and filled them with the famed beverage before handing them out.

"Your famed Ewok Liqour, the prime of Dystopia." The Quaestor said with a smirk and Xathia chuckled.
Malisane raised his glass in response and took a sip. "Best there is young Atema. Now tell me, what
is the plan with Arcona?" Malisane said, going straight to business, like the businessman he was.

"I have no intention in saving them, like others I intend to use them to my own gain, or better said,
the Clan's gain." The Valheru took a sip from the Ewok Liqour, the fruity taste of hand picked berries
and Sith Ewok expertise really did a great job in delivering the right amount of punch with the right
amount of taste. It was indeed the best beverage served within Dystopia and truly a reason to go
there should the time arrise.

"Intriguing, though how do you plan to do that?" Malisane said, taking his gaze to the planet below and
Ylith grinned. "When the time comes, my plan will unfold, untill that time we will play along nicely."

Malisane nodded and Xathia placed her hands on Ylith's shoulder and placed her head on top of them.
The Battlelord narrowed his eyes for a moment and the Quaestor's Serpent eyes flashed to Malisane
and back to the window. Her lips moved slightly, a gentle whisper and Ylith nodded.

"It's time, prepare to depart, we leave in ten minutes." Was all the Valheru said and Malisane nodded
and moved to the Command Deck to issue the commands to the Admiral. Soon they would go to war.

---------------

OOC:

Ok House Ludo Kressh, listen up.

Everyone who has not written themselves into the Run On yet because they have no clue on what
to do now has an opening. You are boarding/boarded the 'Final Way' and prepare yourself and the
ship for departure.

Those who are in Sapphire Squadron, prepare your ships and be reasy for a nice
flying mission.

Jade Serpents can choose to either fly along with Sapphire, or to help prepare the
ship and have a nice little Ground Offensive placed ready, should the possibility arise, be ready

Other than that, Have fun, and dont have use arriving too soon. Remember, going to Telos took
us Twelve Hours, Going to the Dajorra system will take about twice as long, if not three times as
long. I added a Starmap at the bottom, look at the upper right corner for The Orian System,
Dajorra lies beneath it.

It will help you picture the distance/time it will take.

Have fun!

~Ylith

StarMap

“Breep Deep Boop Braap,” came the sound from an astromech droid.

“That’s right,” the Sith Commander responded to his droid FU-U2, “We’ve got more Vong to dispose of.”

Battlelord Robert Daragon calmly went through his pre-flight preparations for his XJ X-wing fighter. Glancing around he noticed some other members of Sapphire also getting ready. This would be another test for Sapphire; one that failure would mean death.

While most members of Naga Sadow did not like the idea of going to assist a rival Clan, Daragon had different feelings towards the task. The Sith considered the Dark Brotherhood as his family with the various Clans as siblings. While they often fought amongst each other, when someone from the outside interfered with a sibling, your pride in your family took over and you stood together and defeated the outsider. Usually after a short time the siblings are back at each other’s throats, thus the ways of a family.

These, however, were just the thoughts of an old man and not shared by many. The Sith was sure that some of his fellow members of Naga Sadow would try to use this conflict in some way to either destroy Arcona or further their own careers, but that was just the way of the followers of the Dark Side.

Victory-class Star Destroyer Covenant
Secondary Launch Bay
In orbit over Sepros

A loud and piercing hiss reverberated through the expansive launch bay as the coiled hose of fueling conduit disengaged from the transport's fuel port and was carried away by a Dlarit fuel and maintenance technician, the crewman saluting the gathered Night Hawks as they stood in the shadow of the Vengeance Rising, their newly-constructed battleteam transport. The Sentinel-class landing craft was heavily modified, altered beyond recognition, and sat gleaming a dark and menacing ebony on the hangar pad.

"Quite a craft. You've outdone yourself with this design, my friend." Zaxen said quietly, sliding his armored Night Hawks helmet off and wedging it under his arm, dark hair plastered to his forehead by glistening sweat. Zaxen's hazel eyes were hooded and his gaze distant as he clapped the stuffy and uptight Ubese on the shoulder. Vorion grunted dismissively, a hollow sound from within his sealed helmet.

"I beg to differ..I should have put far more work into the holoprojector colloid; it can hardly be called more than prototype. I doubt it will fool whatever sensors the Vong have on their ships. But I digress...let's get started. The House Summit is en route to our position as we speak."

Zaxen motioned the remainder of the present Night Hawks over, and Vorion idly waved a datacard in their direction. Led by Ekeia, the other Hawks followed dutifully in the tall, pretty Chiss's wake, first Teu, quiet and reserved as she often was, then Morrigan, eyes flashing with anticipation. Zaroth strode forth confidently as they began to congregate into a loose semi-circle on the hangar floor. Vorion turned very deliberately, looking at the only one their wingmates still standing at the ramp of the Vengeance.

"...Tritherus?" Vorion queried coolly, watching his flight partner appraisingly. The raven-haired man looked up slowly, an unreadable expression etched hard on his handsome features. He slowly uncrossed his arms and trudged up to his compatriots, crimson eyes shifting as he looked at each of them in turn. The Ubese darksider nodded stiffly. Vorion had heard rumors that the mysterious Krath had spent time in amongst the Arconans, and he hoped that none of that history would negatively impact the operation ahead.

"Night Hawks! Disciples of mighty Ragnos, more importantly." Vorion barked, looking to and fro, speaking slowly, clearly, deliberately.

"You have all long known me to be something of an egalitarian, some would even say an idealist. More importantly, you have all known me to be a devout nationalist; I firmly believe in the value of unity and integrity within the whole of the Brotherhood, and thus I wholeheartedly back our Clan's support of Arcona. However," he paused, glancing at Tritherus, who remained motionless and silent, "I recognize that not everyone will particularly feel this way...But regardless of our individual feelings and opinions, it is important that we act unhesitatingly on the orders of the Clan Summit." Vorion tapped deftly at the datapad in his hand, and a shimmering crimson hologram sprang from the tiny emitter lens on it's face.

The holovid displayed a standard Galactic star chart with a winding, meandering hyperspace route highlighted for emphasis. Vorion poked at a single point in the clustered masses of star systems.

"This is the entry point of the hyperspace path the Covenant and the Final Way are preparing to jump to. It's a smuggler's path, running between our Orian system and Dajorra, our destination in Arcona territory, through the Iego system in the Extrictarium Nebula. The plan is to deviate from this path here, near Tammar." He motioned precisely at the point of exit. "Estimated ETA of 2.5 standard days - maybe more, maybe less - for the entirety of the journey. I've been instructed to prepare us for immediate ground deployment via the Vengeance. Expect heavy Vong resistance from the very outset of the conflict. We will detail a more precise tactical plan as we approach our destination and assess both the Arconan and Vong positions and strengths." he finished grimly, again glancing around at their various expressions.

"So dark vigilance, my brothers and sisters," Vorion said in a low voice as he switched the holovid off with an abrupt motion, standing tall and turning to face the airlock. "and let us be ready for our House Summit's arrival."

"Nice speech." Zaxen half smirked turning to Vorion as the rest of the Night Hawks disperesed to prepare for the coming battle.

Though he could not see it he could feel the Ubese's mirth.
"Vorion there is something I have been meaning to talk to you about."

Both men stopped and faced each other. "What have you got my friend?" Vorion asked curiously.

Zaxen brought out a small scroll of gold and silver, sealed with the mark of Ragnos.
"My time as the dark Librarian has come to an end." Zaxen's voice became grave and serious.
"I have already been there too long and the whispers..." he trailed off and did not speak for a moment.

Vorion tilted his head a bit. "What is it?"

Zaxen shook his head and began again. " I have spoke to the Primarch and he agrees. You are to be the new guardian of the dark library."
Zaxen held out the scroll to the Ubese.

"Don't take it lightly Vorion. There are secrets there not meant for most eyes."

Vorion nodded and took the scroll, looking down on it. "Thank you Zaxen."

Zaxen nodded. "No... thank you my friend. You do the Disciples proud. Do not hesitate to call on me though. The Library can be...tricky at times."
Vorion nodded again. " I shall."

Just as Zaxen was about to offer Vorion a drink the officer's club a frazzled looking female ensign came running up.

"Lieutenant Commander Dauketrenal?" she asked nearly breathless.
"Yes?" Zaxen replied.
"You have an urgent message. You are to meet with Commander Atema and Commander Isradia immadietly" she spoke.

Zaxen took the datapad she offered him and scanned over it quickly.
"Very well" he said.
"I will meet you later Vorion." and turned to make his way to the war room.

Hangar
Sadow Palace
Sepros, Orian system

The tension between Ashia Keibatsu and Trevarus Caerick was palpable. It was clear the deal the sorcerer had struck with Darth Sarin to appease Astronicus Sadow in order to retain his control of the Dlarit Navy had been far from the lucid arrangement the pair presented to the Clan.

The Nightsister wasn’t a fool. It was clear she was leaking information to her husband and no doubt through him to Yoni and Caerick’s other enemies on the Star Chamber. Darth Vexatus would have seen to her quiet disappearance was it not that their plans were so near completion. It was bad enough with Jedgar Paladin sniffing around; they could not risk the attention an assassination of the Council’s new emissary would bring.

Vexatus followed behind as the other two continued their unsettlingly pleasant game of intrigue and politics as the trio headed to the hangar. The Sith Lord truly hated Krath. A master of deceit and betrayal he may have been, but at least he had the nerve to do something. Caerick’s stalling was beginning to wear him thin.

The Falleen sighed. “If you two will excuse me, I have business to attend to elsewhere.” His words were polite but his tone betrayed his contempt.

Ashia and Trevarus paused, the sorcerer turning his head slightly to look back. His eyes narrowed, “Are you not joining us on the Final Way, my apprentice?”

Apprentice. The word had begun to increasingly irk Vexatus in recent months. His relationship with his Master had improved in the two years since the fall of Antei, united by a common goal. But with victory so nearly within his grasp, it was becoming clear sooner or later Caerick would need to be eliminated.

The Sith Lord knew the feeling was mutual. There could only be one Dark Lord.

“Perhaps,” answered Vexatus finally. “I have something I must attend to at the construction site. If I am done before the fleet departs I shall join you.”

The Falleen had no such intention. He knew the Final Way would be departing within the hour. Arcona could rot for all he cared, along with the rest of the pitiful Brotherhood. The weak did not deserve rescue. The weak died; only the strong survived.

Caerick’s expression of disdain melted into bitterness. Vexatus smirked; he knew his Master would never betray his plans openly in front of the Nightsister. If he wanted him along on the mission, he would need to find time to explain himself before they departed. Alas, there was no time left.

“Very well,” said Trevarus, his voice acid. “I shall contact you once Ashia and I are aboard the flagship.”

Restricted Archives
Sadow Palace

The holocron opened before the Sith Lord, the image of a startlingly beautiful woman appearing, although as usual most of her features were cloaked by the cowl of her robes. “Lady Maestus,” said Vexatus, inclining his head.

“I sense you are troubled, my apprentice,” replied the avatar. “How goes your search for Lehon?”

Darth Vexatus dodged the question. “My Master delays.”

“Kill him.”

It was the kind of simple answer Vexatus had become accustomed to from Maestus. Sadly his plans depended on Caerick’s control of the Dlarit Navy. He decided against arguing. He knew deep down she was right. It was just easier this way.

“Our reconstruction work on the Star Map nears completion,” said Vexatus, deciding to change the subject. “It will only be a matter of weeks.”

“Weeks,” Darth Maestus spat the word as if it were a curse. It was clear she was growing impatient.

“My Master seeks to lend aid to one of the other Clans.”

The Sith Lord braced himself for a retort. Shockingly, it never came.

The avatar appeared to be rolling the thought around in whatever a holocron had in place of a mind. “His reason?”

The Falleen shrugged. “I saw no point lending aid to those we seek to destroy.”

Darth Maestus frowned, shaking her head.

“What is there to possibly be gained from helping the weak?” questioned Darth Vexatus.

“Have these past three years taught you nothing?” scolded the holocron. “Power. The answer is always about power.”

“But the weak can rise up and join together to overthrow the strong,” countered Vexatus. “I fail to see how it will be of any benefit. My time is better spent preparing for the journey to Lehon. The sooner we reach Lehon, the sooner we can end this war.”

An acidic gaze fell over Maestus’s shrouded features. “I said nothing about helping the weak.” The Dark Lord looked down at the Falleen kneeling before her holocron; her expression was of utter disdain. “Do not become so obsessed with your search for the Heart you forget your ultimate goal. An opportunity has been placed before you. Seize it.”

Darth Vexatus considered the avatar’s words. He could wait until Lehon or he could choose to take advantage of the events currently unfolding in the Dajorra system. “I understand, Master.”

Maestus’s lips curled into a ghostly smile. “Good.” The avatar waved a hand dismissively. “Go. You know what must be done.”

Republic-Class Star Destroyer ‘Final Way’
Sparring Room

The room was not as large as the ones he had on the Marakith Skyhook, nor did the
Valheru expected them to be. They were on the verge of taking off into Hyperspace
and were waiting for the final passengers to arrive.

Suddenly Xathia, who held a sword in hand narrowed her eyes and she turned her gaze
to the Sith.
“He is here…” She said coldly, him knowing very well whom she meant. He nodded,
knowing that Darth Vexatus had arrived and was probably making way to his personal
quarters until they arrived at Dajorra. Though he hoped that the Clan Summit would prefer
being on the Covenant it could not be helped, he would continue his plans even if they were
going to be a bother. If so, he would dispose of them, one way or the other.

His eyes, narrowed by thought, opened widely as the Krath Knight brought her blade up to
his throat, the shard edge gently pushed onto his skin.

“Its far to early to be dreaming Sith…” She said and he narrowed his eyes and slammed his
sword into hers, forcing the blade upwards while he backed off himself. She took her distance
and eyed the Valheru carefully, the Livion O-Katana gently sheathed once more.

His uncommon style of swordsmanship was taught to him by the Shadow Hand himself, which,
combined with his knowledge of the sword, evolved into a style that was not only strange in
nature, but brutal as well.

Suddenly the Admiral’s voice erupted from the communications system near the door of the
sparring room. The Quaestor walked up to it and pushed a button.

“Yes Admiral?”

“We are ready for departure Governor, we await your command.” The Admiral said calmly and
the Valheru closed his eyes for a moment then opened them again.

“Set course for Dellalt, from there we shall take the smugglers route past Iego to Tammar,
where we will break off from the route and set course for Dajorra.” The Quaestor said and there
was silence for a moment.

“Governor, there are reports of Vong near Dellalt.”

“Admiral, the Vong are everywhere, and this is the only route we can take in order to make the trip
at least two and a half days instead of two full weeks. Any more questions Admiral?" His last words
were not a question, it was a clear statement to not ask any further.

“Understood, plotting course and leaving as soon as possible, Rear-Admiral Simonetti out.”

The Valheru shook his head for a moment and the Krath grinned, moving her blade upwards.
She ran towards him, slashing horizontally at the Battlemaster, which he deflected with the sheath
of the sword.

With a flick of the wrist she threw his sword out of his hands upwards, yet he remained calm even
though he was unarmed. It was at that very moment where time slowed down she saw her mistake
of thinking to lightly of Ylith.

His serpent eyes pierced her own gaze with delight as his flattened hands slammed together, the
blade of her sword between his hands. With a display of strength the Sith broke the blade and threw
the tip of the now severed sword back at her while she quickly took her distance only a moment before.

The tip of the blade missed her barely and when she looked at him he calmly caught his sword which
was thrown into the air only a moment earlier.

“Never underestimate who you are fighting against Xathia. Also, never use a weak sword.” He said calmly,
lecturing her. He took his outer robe from the ground and walked off to his chamber, the Krath following him.


-------

OOC:

The Final Way is now making his departion, having everyone on board now. This will
be a relatively long journey through the roads we have picked out (read the above.)

This will be the ultimate time to get your equipment checked, train a bit with your
fellow members, to team up with other members or to simply take a moment to
reflect your own feelings about this mission.

Character Development people, lets make it happen!

~Ylith

Victory-class Star Destroyer Covenant
Corridor after arriving from shuttle


Dark boots thumped rhythmically along the corridor as Xander walked passed a group of soldiers marching to their destination. The corridor was well lit and populated by many people. Things had begun to pick up on the Covenant as various groups prepared for what their duties were.

Angel beeped at him from behind, he had asked Angel to pretend he couldn’t speak for the purposes of this mission. He didn’t want the modifications he had made to the droid to be to know too much.

“Yes Angel we are actually headed out there to help” Xander said absent mindedly running his hand along the hilt of his new lightsaber. He had just been raised recently to knight and had built the lightsaber after a long and arduous mission.

The droid beeped at him skeptically.

“Yea you are right, it does sound like an open invitation to …” Xander paused not wanting to say stabbed in the back. “But frankly I don’t really care, besides that’s why I have you to watch my back, don’t I little buddy”

The droid beeped at him again

“Hah, I’ll be sure to tell that everyone from now on.” Xander smirked

The droid beeped back questioning.

“Absolutely, if you want an oil bath when you get back I will have it done.”

The droid whistled happily as a woman in uniform passed by him. Xander watched her pass she was fairly good looking. Xander gently tugged at his ear humming to himself as they continued towards the hanger where the rest of the Squadron was waiting for him.

“Maybe I will get a treat for myself after this is done as well.” Xander said quietly to himself as he entered the hanger, his squadron who had previously been lounging about came immediately to attention

“Ok, is everyone ready? You have all been briefed for the mission that is at hand, I want everyone to stick together and work as a team. If we work together we should be able to accomplish our mission. Understood?”

“Yes Sir.” The squadron chorused

“Very Good.” Xander said
“I see you have things under control here.” A voice said from behind him. Xander turned to see Faeril Munlear standing behind him nodded.

Xander saluted crisply and replied “Yes Ma'am, the squadron is ready to go when needed.”

“Very good” she replied “The Governor wishes to have a word with you.”

Xander nodded and saluted. “Yes Ma'am” .

Turning to the squadron he said crisply “ You have free time until the time of engagement arrives, however that does not mean you are free to get in trouble. Any infraction will be dealt harshly, Dismissed.” The squadron broke apart as Xander headed off towards the command quarters, Angel trailing behind him. He wondered how this mission was going to turn out.

OOC: This post take places a a few hours after everyone arrives from the shuttle onto the Covenant.

Quel-Droma Temple
Exterior Fighting Positions

Lavar felt the Dark Side begin to swirl, tendrils of energy reaching into space. He briefly focused his senses on that direction, trying - and, as it had been for far too long, singularly failing - to judge how the battle in space was going. Precious few engagements against the Vong had failed to end without a ground engagement, and fewer still if it offered the Far Outsiders the chance to kill Force-users. So while those who could actually do more than light suggestion or other minor tricks with the Force were helping those in space buy enough time for ground defenses to be prepared, Lavar had helped set up those defenses. The officers in charge had been nervous to see a Dark Jedi come to "help" - most of the time, it meant the Dark Jedi in question was to take command. In Lavar's case, it had been the truth. He didn't have the rank, training, or authority to take command - he was simply there to kill things.

The mundane troops had set up several E-Webs along the walls of the temple, as well as a few heavier laser cannons. While the individual systems were desingedfor ground warfare, Lavar was concerned that they didn't have enough - the Vong amswers to hovertanks, APCs, and walkers all had dovin basals on them, meaning that having overwhelming firepower was as much an issue as tactics.

Lavar allowed himself a moment to wish for a battalion of artillery - or maybe the whole 501st Legion while I'm at it, Lavar reminded himself. Returning to the moment, Lavar turned his attention to the hologram displaying the action in space.

“Forward shields are down!” shouted the tactical officer over the din of warning claxons. The ship rocked violently and a flash of light momentarily dazzled Sashar. He then saw the aftermath of an explosion happening near the front of the massive Destroyer.

“Redistribute from secondary systems and the rear shields!” Sulaco shouted back.

The fighters were putting up a brave defence, but the number of Coralskippers was approaching the hundreds – there was only so much Arcona’s valiant pilots could do.

“How’s the bombing run going?” Sashar called over to the Flight Control officer in the port crew pit.

“Shade squadron arrived unopposed due to their being cloaked and were able to complete one run. They’re setting up for their second.”

He nodded in reply and turned back to the battle. It wasn’t going well. The arrival of the Expeditionary force had stalled their main attack on the Abyss and split their firepower (the main reason the flagship was still in one piece) however they couldn’t last much longer.

“Priority transmission coming in from The Lord Consul!” The communications officer shouted again, and Sashar sighed: he had a battle to run and the Iridonian insisted on calling him.

The Mandalorian jogged over to the Holonet Transciever and knelt down. Mejas appeared before him, looking none-too-happy.

“Sashar, this is a battle you cannot win. Withdraw your forces.” He ordered, his voice like running water.

“Lord Consul, that’ll leave Dajorra undefended.” He protested, not believing what he was hearing. Mejas had finally lost it.

“Draw the Vong forces away – we have detailed charts of the Maw cluster, play a game of cat and mouse there while we wait for reinforcements.” The Consul explained with strained patience.

“We’re expecting reinforcements?” Sashar was incredulous.

“From Naga Sadow, no less. Get to work.”

“Very well, my Lord.” He didn’t have time for overt displayed of genuflection right now and signed off abruptly, knowing full well it could cost him his life in lesser circumstances.

Sashar headed back onto the bridge proper, motioning for Captain Sulaco to join him.

“Captain, send a coded transmission to all of our ships – we are to prepare for a staggered withdrawal to the Maw Rendezvous, but make sure it’s listed as a general order on the monitors – just not announced.” Sulaco blinked, but nodded and set to work tapping in the instructions to his terminal and Sashar pulled a comlink from his robes once more.

“Illian, any progress on our mole?”

“I’ve found him and was just about to apprehend him – he’s camped out at a turbolift nexus point near deep storage hooked up to a terminal.” His former apprentice replied promptly, his voice hushed.

“Hold off for now. I’m feeding him a bit of misinformation. Wait until he sends another transmission off to the Vong.”

“I suppose I can curb the urge for now…” he replied in a long-suffering voice.

“Flight Control; Call back the short range interceptors and the K-Wings ASAP.” Sashar ordered as he walked back onto the catwalk and stared out at the battle unfolding before him.

“Picking up a tight-beam transmission from Deep Storage.” The comm. officer reported tightly and the Proconsul grinned.

“Has Major Kemp decoded the encrypt protocol they’re using yet?”

“Not yet, but they’re close.” Sulaco replied.

“We’re going to have to assume that the transmission just sent was informing them of our impending retreat. Order the fighters to withdraw as soon as they’re free of the furball and get the Expeditionary force out now. Make sure their hyperspace route is able to be plotted, though. I want the Vong to get a good hard look at where we’re running to. Come on people, let’s make sure we draw them away – it’ll buy us the time that can save Dajorra.” Sashar urged, clapping his hands twice at the crew pits, urging the officers to speed up.

Fenris, now aboard the Final Way, was practicing his new form of combat, Lightsaber Form 0 using Telekinesis. He had learned the technique through weeks of study, and only a few days ago had he mastered it, staying up 3 or 4 days just to practice within the 5 week span he had discovered it. If it weren't for his Dark Side training, however slight it was, the mastering of it would have taken months.

As he was using it on the many Training Droids on the ship, his commlink began to buzz. It was his master, who wished to see him before the coming battle. Destroying the droids around him, which at that point were set to an extremely low training rate, just for fun, he left.

His boots clicked on the floor of the ship, he blended in with the black walls and floor, only visible by the light that the view screens gave off, his walk was nothing special, he didn't think of himself as a great importance, nor did he wish to be, he only wished to survive, through any means necessary.

As he neared his masters quarters, he let out a long sigh, and finally said:

"What is it you wish from me?"

He was never very good at speaking to his master, and calling Ylith master made his skin crawl, some titles bugged him, others made his skin crawl.

Republic Class Star Destroyer Final Way
Quaestors Quarters


The Valheru sat behind his desk, a glass of dark Ewok Liqour in his hand and Xathia sat on a couch
at the side. She smirked at Fenris, even though she was one rank higher than him, the look in her
eyes made the young Jedi Hunter gulp.

"Sit down Apprentice..." The Sith said and the young Krath walked over to a chair and sat down, testing
his patience, the Sith looked at the Krath Hunter a moment, taking a sip of his beverage.

"Tell me young one, have you ever heard of the Underlord?" The Sith said and Fenris frowned and his
gaze went directly to his Master, who brought his class to his lips again and took another sip before
putting the glass down.

"I might.." Fenris replied carefully. He had learned to fear his Master, however, he also knew that should
the time arise, the same embodiment of Fear could become his greatest ally.

"A little bird told me you have asked around about him, even went so far as studying on how to become
like him..." The Battlemaster said in a dark tone and Fenris nodded.

"Very interesting. However, this is not why I called you here. I want you to join up with my Uncle in Sapphire
and he will tell you what to do. Once we're in Dajorra we need fighters to defend this ship and possible
Arconan refugee's. Also, though we make a land assault, you would be the first to clear a landing."

Fenris' eyes darkened and Ylith rose from his seat.
"Do not take this task lightly Fenris, should you fail, we all fail. I have placed this trust upon you because
I feel you are ready...do not fail me."

Xathia grinned as she rose from her seat and moved to the Jedi Hunter.
"Take this Hunter, it will do you well should battle come." She said and Fenris got a storntrooper like torso
from the Krath Knight, the seal at the shoulder clearly stated it came from his Master.

"Now go Apprentice, and do not come back should you fail me."

Thaladred awaiting orders, bangs the wall with his fist. He waits in hopes that he will meet with his comrades, Vorion, Kaz, Ashura, Jades and Tyren. He then walks over to Ylith, passing him by with a show of respect. Thaldred sits in a chair close to the Flag of Sadow. He then talks to everyone else there.

"So this is to be my first battle in the Brotherhood. Fighting the Vong will surely smooth my joys. As much as the Vong have attacked the universe, i will enjoy destroying them. So let me get this straight, if we send out our fleet to aid Clan Arcona, then are we going to become allies or are they going to completely betray us and try to take us out? Are we prepared for an ambush by the Arconan battle fleet? Well this should be a good fight none the less."

"Life may not be the same for me after this. I need someone to watch my back during this encounter. I am moving out with Ravana Squadron and the Night Hawks. Do we have any allies in Clan Arcona yet? My final words now will be, stay in hope and dont give up. Sadow for Life!"

"Actually in a side saying what weapon will i be equipped with during the battle? I have not been informed yet. Is it going to be a sword, spear, polearm or any thing else in the source of light and heavy weaponry?

Victory-Class Star Destroyer Covenant
Hyperspace

Faeril walked down the corridor nodding to those she passed by. The Covenant now fully loaded and battle teams to the ready had already entered hyperspace.

Though still fairly new in her position, she was getting a grasp of things under Ashura's guidance. Plus, Shikyo had trained her well. Faeril had already had experience leading the Night Hawks in HMR and the Jade Serpents when she was in House Ludo Kressh, but being Aedile in House Marka Ragnos also carried another duty, the Hand of Ragnos which was not known beyond the Disciples.

After the war council, Ashura had instructed her to return to Ragnos Cathedral, where she strolled down the halls through the Dark Library to an area that very few members of House Marka Ragnos have layed their eyes upon.

When she entered the locked room, she had examined the artifacts carefully. Reaching out with the force, Faeril concentrated and took her time picking objects that she was drawn too or felt a connection with that felt right for this mission. She then packed them safely away before exiting and heading to the hangar to board the Victory-I Class Star Destroyer, the Covenant.

Those objects were now stored safely in her quarters, but she didn't want to be away from them for too long. She was also to meet with her Quaestor, the Dark Patriarch, to decide who would receive which of the artifacts she had brought with her as well as to discuss the House's overall plans before they reached the Dajorra System.

The Aedile didn't have any animosity towards Clan Arcona, but was very aware that some of her Clanmates did, including her Master. However, Faeril would try to keep an open mind, at the same time though she would not forget some of the warnings she had received or the distrust other members of Clan Naga Sadow harbored against the Clan they would soon be aiding.

Reaching her quarters to the left, the Hand of Ragnos, glanced down both lengths of the corridor before entering and closing the door carefully behind her.

The battle wasn’t going well, and Zandro could tell that fact even though his concentration was purely concentrated on the bombing run he was about to undertake. The arrival of the second part of the Arconan forces had merely delayed the inevitable, and Zandro could tell that sooner or later, the Arcona forces would be retreating.

Well, let’s see if I can get this kill before we have to turn tail then.

Bringing all of his attention back to the task at hand, Zandro guided the Phantom around the lances of light that were scattered throughout the battlefield, his hands moving the piloting yoke as gently and smoothly as possible. His craft moved steadily onwards, supported by the other eleven members of Shade Squadron, their pilots also guiding their crafts expertly through the veritable minefield of weapons fire that surrounded the group of pilots. The enemy destroyer grew in their viewports as the pilots brought their craft around to approach the craft straight-on, trigger fingers itching to fire but discipline was holding them back. Zandro skimmed his craft down and pulled up as he approached the hull of the enemy ship, skirting along it on a parallel trajectory as he rolled and dodged around the many growths that littered the hull of the ship, as well as the sporadic weapons fire that was coming to and from the enemy destroyer.

Zandro took a deep breath as he approached his target area and his finger slowly pressed down on the button, holding off until the exact moment that he got a brief nudge from the Force, and he depressed his finger fully. Pulling the craft up as the bomb sailed straight and true towards its target, Zandro’s craft was once more buffeted by the shock waves as his radiation bomb found its target and detonated, spewing dead organic matter and Vong warriors out into the vacuum of space. Carrying on a straight line course with one hand and activating the comm unit with the other, Zandro once more punched it over to the Abyss’ frequency.

“How many hits control?”

Zandro waited several seconds before the reply, but it wasn’t the one he had expected or hoped.

“Seven. Get back towards the main group and disengage cloak Zandro, new orders coming in.”

“But the enemy ship isn’t dead, we can finish this!”

Sashar’s voice was forceful, his mind obviously set in his plan.

“No, it is crippled but it would take too long to destroy. Get back towards the Abyss and get ready to receive new orders.”

“Roger.”

Zandro bit back a curse and switched the frequency over to the Shade channel.

“Okay guys, it’s not dead but it’s crippled. Head back to the Eye and disengage cloak. It’s time to kill some rocks.”

Switching off the cloaking device, Zandro wheeled his craft around towards the nearest group of the Coralskippers that were on the way to the flagship, his anger finally able to be vented on something that wouldn’t be able to withstand his attacks.

RSD Final Way
Hyperspace.

"What you doing here De Ath?" Malisane turned to see a figure in a D:SOG officers uniform looking at him through one eye, the other covered by an eyepatch. He looked around him at the destroyers officer's mess.
"Having a drink what else?" he replied with a shrug.
Agrist, Battlelord, Senior Commander and Commisaar of the RSD Final Way, walked over and looked at the Prefect. "I mean generally," he replied gruffly, "I don't have a choice I'm supposed to keep this ship pointing in the right direction but I don't believe you give a damn about these Arconans. What's up you running from a creditor or a jealous husband?"
"Neither," Malisane replied, as usual amused by his ally's direct humour, "would you believe I was here out of my loyalty and commitment to the Clan and the vision this ship was named after?"
"No."

Malisane sighed. "Alright no I would have had no intention of coming along," he replied, "if you want the honest answer I'd gone to visit Sai in the Sadow Palace and was preparing to leave when the summons to the War Council came in. Someone saw me and asked if I was coming into it and I got trapped. If I want to keep my Prefect position and special privliges and licences for my company I have to toe the line occasionally."
Agrist laughed, "That sounds more believeable."
Malisane nodded. "So all I'm concerned about is putting on a convincing show of fealty then getting back to more important matters as soon as possible, preferably without coming within thirty foot of a Yuuzhan Vong. What about you?"
Agrist shook his head. "I won't be leaving this ship," he replied, "my job when we get there is to keep an eye on Simonetti and his officers and make sure they don't get any idea about hyperspacing out if the rest of you do leave the ship. To be honest I'd do you a swap, I spend to much time on this ship."
Malisane shrugged. "Ah well, we won't be there for a while anyway, I'm going to have another drink. You joining me?"
Agrist shook his head, "Got supervising to do," he said gloomily, "catch you later."
Malisane watched him go then drained his glass, before ordering another.

RSD Final Way
Hyperspace.

Tsingtao eyed his fellow officers at the table. All that were present glared back the Sith Warrior, awaiting his next move. Tsingtao downed the drink in front of him as the others at the table began to lose patience.

"Are you going to make a play or just sit there and drink?" one of the young officer said to the Sith.

Tsingtao looked at the officer with a smile, "Drinking has its benefits, my young friend, but since you are in a hurry to lose your credits, I guess I should oblige." He reached for a card from his hand and placed it on the table. The faces of the officers dropped as Tsingtao sat back and laughed. "Pure Sabacc, boys and girls." One by one the officers left the table in disgust. Tsingtao laughed to himself as they left the table. "That's eight hands in a row. Nobody can be that lucky. Never play cards with a Sith," were some of the comments he heard.

He was glad to be away from Gamuslag. He was eager to get back into action since his appoint to Prefect of Gamuslag.
Administrating the Cenota Facility took most of his time, and the call for the Sapphire Squadron was a welcome delight. He arrived on the Final Way the same time as most of the Sapphire. He made his way back to his quarters, awaiting his first orders.

RSD Final Way
Hyperspace.


“… meet me in my personal quarters. Have your interrogation gear ready for use on the captured subjects later. You will of course be involved in the hand to hand fighting, as that is your forte. Vexatus Out.”

Macron grimaced at the holotransmission. Darth Vexatus had once again decided to pay attention to his mad pet alchemist. “Bastards,” he growled. “Screwed me out of the Consulship, and now they want me to play the tractable Apprentice. I’ll play along- for now,” he mumbled with an evil look. “There’s always some sort of power to be had from these sorts of machinations. I just have to find it.”

The Sith turned to his own Apprentice. “Naiia, you would do well to learn something from my mistakes and this tangled situation with Arcona. Never trust your Masters fully. All of us have some ulterior motive as Sith, as you will yourself one day when you take a student of your own. Never forget that,” he canted. "Unlike the foolishly trusting Jedi, a Sith always keeps some power in reserve."

The woman nodded with an intense look in her eyes. “I see what you mean, Macron. After the training we did, I am beginning to grasp a larger truth. Tell me, do you think we can defeat these Peace Brigade traitors?”

“That is indeed a good question. Perhaps. I do know this- it will be good to spill some blood besides the inevitable Vong filth for once. Either way, our own handlers command, and so we shall go. Just be alert and on your guard, especially around Lord Vexatus,” warned the Warlord. “He’d kill you in a second if it suited his dark purposes. Especially to spite me.”

The Sith woman nodded grimly. Both of them began to check their gear that had been brought from their ships. The crates divulged a plethora of strange gear besides the obvious weaponry and armor. Medical gear, strange chemicals, and various computing materials were carefully laid out. One IT-3 droid sat on a plinth as Naiia ran a hardware scan on it.

Mononoke fondled one greenish vial in particular with a demented giggle. Naiia’s eyebrows rose quizzically. “What’s that, master?” she asked quietly as she recognized his trademark homicidal giggle.

“Secret insurance,” remarked the Sith casually as he eyed the ominous canister. “Never leave home without it. No one knows I brought it, so keep it that way please. Are we clear?” His yellow eyes bored into her own with a dark gleam.

“Crystal,” she remarked as she returned stoically to the droid maintenance.

Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way
Dlarit Special Operations Flagship
Hyperspace, somewhere in Sith Space

It had been several hours since the Final Way departed. Looking at the holo map in his quarters Vallen could tell it was going to be a long journey. Not that the Fosh minded long journeys, Force knows he had been on enough. As one of the few envoys of the Clan, his work took him far afield on a regular basis. It was rare he ever was around when something happened.

No, it wasn’t the journey that troubled Vallen; it was being caught up in this rescue operation while he was passing through the Orian system. He had been planning to spend his time there in the archives; his ‘reward’ for the work he did scouring the galaxy for the few individuals who possessed the Force-potential to be trained in the ways of the dark side.

It was a thankless task, but someone had to do it, and Vallen at least hoped one day perhaps one of the Masters would take him under their wing. He wasn’t around the Clan enough to know any of them well, but the Fosh was sure he saw great power in his future and one day planned to seize it.

“Incoming transmission, Master Vallen.”

Vallen’s feathers shifted green. He always did find it amusing when the console called him ‘master’.

“Patch it through.”

The weathered features of a Falleen Vallen knew only in passing appeared. Darth Vexatus. It was impossible not to recognise him; practically everyone in the Orian system must have known who he was, whether by that name or one of his other identities. Vallen’s feathers shifted a bright orange.

“How may I be of service, milord?”

The Falleen’s face betrayed nothing. Vallen found the Sith Lord’s gaze slightly unnerving, his eyes being drawn to the dark scars around Vexatus’s right eye. For some reason, it reminded him of the Yuuzhan Vong. The thought disturbed Vallen more than he could put into words.

“Envoy Vallen,” the Falleen’s voice was icy, “Please meet me in my quarters. I have business I wish to discuss with those loyal to the Final Order. Vexatus Out.”

Vallen’s feathers lit up, shifting an even brighter shade of orange. Was the Fosh finally about to get the chance he had been waiting for?

Private Quarters
Star Destroyer Final Way

Darth Vexatus leered over the console as he shut it off. There were few he could still trust within the Clan. Macron Goura was one. Deceitful as the alchemist may have been, his loyalty was to his own power. That was good. That could be moulded into something useful. True, he hated Vexatus after what he and his Master had done to him the previous year, but hate could be manipulated.

The Fosh, Vallen, was another. Darth Vexatus hardly knew the envoy, the bizarre alien rarely passed through known territories, spending most of his time traversing the Outer Rim for potential new candidates. By chance, he had been passing through Orian as the call had come in and been forced into action and joining them.

While Vexatus may not have known Vallen personally, he had read his profile. Willing, ambitious and eager to prove himself. The Fosh had completed his Trials quickly after being found on some backwater world by Malisane de Ath when he had been the Clan’s envoy. Vexatus didn’t care much for the Fosh’s history, only that he was here and clearly had few scruples when it came to pursuing his own agenda. As much a product of the Yuuzhan Vong War as the Falleen was himself, Vallen clearly only cared about his own interests.

Darth Vexatus figured it made sense the ‘baby snatchers’ as some called them were some of the more dishonest lot of the Brotherhood. Nobody with any morals could do that job for long. But Vallen excelled at it, being one of the best envoys the Clan had seen in years. No doubt it helped to be able to mind rub the people he met too and as Vexatus had learned Vallen was supposedly quite the sorcerer, even if his combat training was minimal from all his time away.

The Sith Lord rose and walked over to stare out the viewport at the swirling maelstrom of blue and white. It was said the starlines of hyperspace turned people mad. The Falleen had always found it soothing. There was something about seeing the galaxy differently that pleased him. In a way, it reinforced the change he and his Master had long fought for. The galaxy was far from as black and white as the rest of the Clan always liked to think.

They would learn. Soon. The day was closer than any of them realised.

For now, Darth Maestus was right. Why wait when he could seize the opportunity right now?

That was where Goura and Vallen came in. Loyalty was a lie. People only cared about themselves. But that was good. Greed could be manipulated. Greed could be bent to his will. With their help, he might actually achieve something out of all this.

A smile came to the Falleen’s face. He still hadn’t had a chance to speak with his Master. Caerick had been caught up in briefings since they had departed. Still, his Master’s plans were inconsequential. He was more than capable of making the most of this situation on his own.

Rho d'Tana couldn't remember the last time he didn't fight as part of Soulfire Strike Team. They were the elite battle team of Galeres, but were reduced to being body guards for the Lord Consul. Yes, it is indeed still a noble task, but he knew Soulfire must have been anxious to join the action.

Now, here was Rho, given the honour of leading House Galeres. This was his first battle as Quaestor, and it was one he wasn't too sure he wanted to be engaged in, but he never backed down from a battle, not even one that seemed hopeless. He stood up from his command chair in the Darkest Night's Bridge and looked out the view port of the Ship only to see the continual and never stopping cross fire between his fighter squadrons and the dreaded enemy Vong.

He could sense the steadiness and confidence in his pilots, but he also could sense the tension that was rising and the elusive sense of hopelessness. The Vong forces were strong and they've already lost comrades to their deadly forces, but this wasn't the end. This war was only beginning and that was the disturbing part.

There was a sudden blip that came through the communications console and immediately grabbed the Quaestor's attention from the mess in the view port.

"Captain, what is it?" Rho demanded.

"It appears to be a coded transmission, Sir."

"Then get decoding and send it directly to my personal console!"

Rho sat down at his console to retrieve the message that was incoming. It said nothing more than, "We are to prepare for a staggered withdrawal to the Maw Rendezvous."

"Are we giving up? Is it that hopeless?" Rho thought. "I can't stand just sitting here waiting for more bad news!!! I have to get out there and do something!" Rho smacked his hand on the communications console, "TALOS, REPORT!"

"Master, it's not looking good out here..."

"Fine..." Rho interrupted, "I want you and everyone else to get back to the Darkest Night NOW. When you get here I'll give you more orders. Just get back here... it's urgent!"

As soon as the Battlemaster had given his orders he retreated to his personal quarters and suited up for battle and put on his Galeres Armour. "When we get to the Rendezvous, I'm not just going to sit around barking orders!"

"Quaestor, Blue Mist has landed in the hangar."

Sashar sighed. The largest cruiser was indeed barely spewing out fire anymore and was taking a pounding – most if not all of the dovin basals had been killed by the radiation bombs and it was listing dangerously to port; so much so that a frigate had to dart out of the way to prevent them from colliding. However, it was still there – it was still in one piece.

“Forward shields failing…” The tactical officer warned and Sashar nodded.

“Captain, do all of the ships still out there have the co-ordinates?”

“Yessir. We’re ready to jump on your command.”

“Get me Captain Yamato.”

The tall, wide-eyed Eldarian native and captain of the Valour’s Fall shimmered into view looking resigned and harried. Sashar fully empathised.

“Captain, I have a special assignment for you. Jump out with the rest of us, however decant when you’re outside of the system and then engage stealth protocols. Hide on the fringe of the system and keep tabs on Dajorra. If anything significant happens, send a hyperwave over to us so we can act accordingly. Also… the Consul could possibly need evacuating so be prepared for a signal from Soulfire.”

“Understood, Sir. Good luck.”

“Order the retreat. Also, send a tight-wave to the Citadel informing them that the Valour’s Fall will be on standby.”

The shutters descended over the viewscreens and the background thrum of the Hyperspace generator trickled over the decking, overriding the sound of numerous plasma bolts impacting against the hull and the reverberations of the Turbolaser cannons returning the favour in kind. With a surge heard even on the bridge, the Eye of the Abyss escaped to hyperspace.

He sighed in relief and sagged back, sitting down in the command chair. The exhaustion of the bridge crew was suddenly palpable. Wiping a hand across his eyes to resettle his mind on the task at hand, he started calling out orders.

“Okay, Alpha crew – you performed admirably under fire. Prepare shift-ending protocols so you can all hand over and then report immediately to your quarters for bed rest – that goes for the gunnery crews and maintenance crews – have the rapid response engineering teams stabilise the ship then allow them some rest. Beta crew can handle the next part of the operation.”

The mood immediately improved and a new life was breathed into the bridge, however Sashar was going to ignore his own orders. He pulled the comlink from his pocket and flicked it to Illian’s frequency.

“Okay, grab him and bring him to the interrogation suite.”

“Consider it done.” Illian responded and clicked off.

M/CRV Reaper’s Call
Escorting Victory-Class Star Destroyer Covenant
Hyperspace, en route to Dajorra System

The escort frigate swam through the milky miasma that was hyperspace, unobtrusive and unimposing in contrast to the VSD Covenant. When the call from Clan Arcona went out, the Covenant and her counterpart, the Final Way, were immediately dispatched. As such, those were the only vessels that were listed on any manifests forwarded to Arcona’s leadership, but each Star Destroyer would have its own compliment of escorts, relegated to the 'Of Course They’re Here” file. Indeed, that was the function of an escort frigate: to cut a less-than-impressive figure in a large capital ship’s wake, the latter’s inherent worth as a target allowing the escort to move freely and able to apply its still considerable forces where they were needed.

The psychology was not lost on the personnel manning the stately vessels, either. Even Dark Jedi were wont to be influenced by their surroundings. The Covenant and the Final Way were staffed to the gills by Sadowan Dark Jedi of varying stations eager to be noticed by those of influence and in power; an unfortunate side effect of the posturing was they would make the most enticing of targets should an aggressor so choose to eat his fill. Not to mention the inevitable power plays and shows of aggression - ‘pissing contests’, the shadowed figure that now stole along the Reaper’s Call’s decks called them – that those that curried favor would have in the plying of their ‘trade’, if that was a trade to be proud of.

Content not to take as public a role, as he had in the Clan’s previous engagement with a Vong Worldship, the shadowed figure would remain on the periphery for now, moving as he wanted to, ready to bring his own power and prowess to bear, should the need arise, just as his Master had in campaigns past and had taught him, in kind. Meanwhile, in order to complete his mission, one that was as obtrusive and shadowed as he himself was, he’d need to distance himself from other Equites and the more-powerful Elders that were sure to want to make their mark in the annals concerning the “Salvation of Arcona”.

And, shadowed was an appropriate word for him. He wasn’t shadowy, per se, neither was he in shadow. No, a dark form traveling about the clinical starkness of an escort frigate would definitely be noticed. Shadowed was the best term, because the mundane that turned an eye towards him saw a random D-SOG low level officer’s uniform, and never his face. Even those Journeymen and Equites who hadn’t followed the crowds like lemmings to stream aboard the Destroyers would be able to see just the hint of a profile, and, if they were especially gifted, the inkling of a thick braid of hair draped over the man’s left shoulder.

Such was the nature of the chameleonic aspect of the Mind Trick, as taught by the Krath Mysteries: not to completely conceal, but to mask his features and presence as to make him ‘remarkably unremarkable’.

Though not as encompassing as its more general Force application, the talent was not without its cost, and the man had to periodically replenish his depleted stores of energy; he found his way into a little used area of the crew’s bunks in order to do so. He would need to meditate, and as he began his breathing exercises, he reached across the ether to feel for the tell-tale buzz in the back of his head that was his newly acquired apprentice. Only a few Masters of the Dark Side were truly telepathic; as such, they were able to communicate using pictures, and sometimes whole thoughts and sentences, with other Force-sensitives and mundanes alike. The true nature of any telepathic bond, if it could be called that, for most of those in the Equite-class consisted of impressions of emotions, and the intensity thereof that gave a relative proximity of the target to the user. The trick at utilizing that bond effectively was to feel for the emotions and discern what they meant in context, and this was what the man did now as he checked up on his charge.

Anxiety...confidence...earnestness... All of those emotions filtered through, and the man known as Tsainetomo Keibatsu allowed himself to entertain a stray thought as he sank into a trance. ‘Soon, young Vorion, your education will begin, and that, in earnest.’ Circumstances dictated the pair separate for now, but the Guardian had proven his eagerness to serve the Clan, and its interests. His apprentice would be fine away from his watchful tripartite eye for now. The Keibatsu was confident that when he came to call on him, Vorion would prove to be a most resourceful, and resilient, tool.

The caveat to that was that in his mission’s fulfillment, Vorion and his desire to serve could well run counter to his goals. Tsainetomo’s conscious mind slipped away under the Force’s inky tides, but he couldn’t help but tighten his grip on his cruciform lightsaber hilt.

He wondered with a hint of wistfulness if he would need to use that tool to destroy the other; good apprentices, he knew, as the Clan’s steward of the Master Student Program, were so very hard to find.

Freighter Jarelyn
Sepros
About to enter hyperspace

Zaxen slumped in the pilot's chair of the small freighter Ashura had assigned him to. His hands played over the consoles, warming engines, prepping weapons, making sure everything was set. All that remained were coordinates for the navicomputer which he did not have. He sat and waited as the Covenant its small strike force assembled to make its jump to hyperspace.

Suddendly, the small flotilla shot forward and vanished into small pinpricks and then nothing. Zaxen sat and watched the point of incidence for a moment assuring that the strike force had indeed gone as a small pang of guilt ran through him for not being with his comrades. He did not enjoy that he would not be with them during the initial strike phase but he knew that his mission must be important or otherwise he would not be here.

He rose slowly and made his way into the back berthing area in which he had stowed his gear and the case which Jade had given him in the fairly short meeting he had had not much more than an hour ago.

As he took the case he furrowed his brow at the memory of the meeting between himself, his Mistress, and the Dark Patriarch of Ragnos and its rather abrupt and disturbing nature.

One hour ago
VSD Covenant over Sepros

"Come in Zaxen quickly and seal the door behind you." The distinct voice of Ashura Isradia, Battlelmaster and leader of the House of Ragnos and its Disciples.

Zaxen did as he was told and entered the darkened war room which he was surprised to find empty aside from his Mistress Jade and Ashura.

Jade stood from the chair and gave an almost unnoticable grimace but being her apprentice Zaxen could notice it as if he were feeling the pain himself. Her wounds had nearly healed completely from her recently astranged husband. She walked towards him lacking no elegance or deadly ability.
" This development with the Arconians has presented us with a unique opportunity and we... I need your help."

Zaxen tilted his head, his expression betraying his curiousity. It was not like his mistress to be so ...pleading with him. "Of course Mistress. Some sort of special strike mission or..?" He trailed off uncertain what would invoke the wave of emotion now bleeding through the Force from Jade.

Ashura stepped around the large, obsidian black tactical display table and approached the two.
"No. Infact you will not be part of the main strike group at all as you will not be going to Dajorra with us."

Zaxen looked to Ashura perplexed. " I don't understand."

Jade walked to a darkened corner of the room and began speaking. " There is no time to explain here but I need you to do this for me Zaxen." As she stepped back out from the corner she brought with her a rectangular, metal, magnetically sealed case. "Take this. Inside you will find everything you need to know."

Ashura broke in and handed Zaxen a datacard. "I am giving you one of our freighters, The Jeralyn. That card gives you ownership rights and command level clearance. Once onboard you will find the magkey for that case. Also.. pack your DSOG uniform."

Zaxen began to let loose a torrent of questions but Ashura cut him off short. "Go Hunter Zaxen. There is no time." Zaxen simply bowed in response and turned to leave.

"The Force be with you my apprentice." Zaxen turned back not used to hearing the old blessing, or any blessing to come from his Mistress.

"And with you my Mistress." He replied bowing again.

Illian pulled out a stick of Dajorran tobacco as he sat back against the wall of the cell, lighting it tentatively with an archaic device that used a flint wheel and crude fuel to produce a flame. He breathed in deeply, holding the acrid smoke just long enough before exhaling in a long sigh.

He looked across at his guest, slumped over the table that served as the centrepiece of the minimal holding cell. Illian climbed to his feet slowly, savouring the cigarette as he ran a finger across the rivulets of blood that trickled across the tabletop from where it streamed steadily out of several shallow abrasions that covered his victim’s body.

“Tell me little mole, are you familiar with the ancient torture named ‘death of a thousand cuts?’?” As he spoke he delicately stepped over more crimson fluid that had spilled to the floor, careful not to stain his newly polished boots. Reaching the man, the mad knight pulled his head up by the hair and brought his face close, taking another deep breath of smoke and blowing it right into the traitor’s face.

“Allow me to enlighten you. First I keep cutting and cutting, ever so lightly but painfully, and you keep bleeding. But you wont die, oh no! Not until the very last cut, when your skin will literally fall away from your body and your arteries will split.” The insane Jedi trailed off as he watched the man’s lips move weakly, barely any sound reaching Illian’s ears. He listened with a look of mock concern, nodding gravely.

“I know it hurts, shhhh…” Illian stroked the man’s head gently as he began to sob, a pitiful rasping sound that sent a surge of irritation through the mad knight. “I can make it all go away, I can let you rest! All I need from you is a little bit of information, that’s all!” As he spoke he suppressed the urge to tear the traitor’s face off, allowing his eyes to take on a gentle moss-green hue.

For a moment the prisoner seemed to be about to say something, before a look of fear deeper than anything Illian had derived from him so far passed across his face and he covered his head, shaking his head violently. The knight sighed, flexing his gauntlets in front of him, and prepared to begin his interrogations again when the hiss of the cell door heralded the arrival of his old Master.

The Prelate scanned the scene with grim approval. Illian’s methods were far from honourable, but they were effective. And in war, time was everything.

“Anything worthwhile yet Syn?” He addressed the mad knight casually.

“Nothing yet Lord Sashar. Whoever had him before me placed the fear deep inside. I may have to get creative before he cracks.”

“I trust you’re up to the task?” The Pro-Consul smiled dryly as his old apprentice gave him an indignant stare. “Good. Proceed.” Sashar waved away Illian’s surprised look as he made no move to leave the room. “I think I will stay for this one. Good men and women died today because of him.”

Illian shrugged, welcoming the company for a change. Re-adjusting his gauntlets he finished his smoke with one hand while holding the traitor’s head back with the other.

“Now. Where were we? Ah yes,” he growled, his face distorting into a snarl as he plunged the still-lit cigarette but straight into the man’s eye.

Sashar watched grimly as Illian went to work, his victim’s screams providing small comfort to the Preltate.

Legorii saw Shade Squadron break off their assault on the enemy Yuuzhan Vong ship, pursuing a group of coralskippers headed towards the Abyss. This was a critical moment for Blue Mist, as the pilots had to decide individually whether to pull back in the face of the seemingly unstoppable enemy, or to keep at it.

“Right then Blue Mist, new orders from the Lord Consul, and his apprentice. The fleet will begin a staggered withdrawal to the Maw Rendezvous, to presumably take up the fight again there once the Yuuzhan Vong follow. We will be providing cover against these damned coralskippers, so keep on your toes.”

The commander’s orders were welcome to Legorii, as it meant they were doing something to make a difference against this terrible foe. The other pilots grumbled about it, as for once they faced a battle it seemed they could not win. The Anzati Corporal had come to accept that as fact, and continued to fight on, but some of the others found it hard to come to terms to.

The TIE Avenger rolled as Legorii thrust to the left with the piloting stick, and then he flipped a switch and powered up the engines in full as he burst forwards. In his peripheral vision, he saw an A-9 Vigilance interceptor on either side, blazing forward with him. He did not pay close enough attention to see who the pilots were, but they all opened fire on a cluster of coralskippers moving towards the BAC Darkest Night at the same time.

One of the coralskippers exploded in a shower of debris, clipping a second that spun out and the pilot barely managed to regain control. Legorii assumed a pilot behind them took up that target, as they continued on and it did not fire on them. There were still four of the coralskippers in that little group, and Legorii took the center one. He coaxed the engine into a higher gear, and soon he was bearing down on the coralskipper with his lasers lighting up the darkness of space.

The Yuuzhan Vong pilot was flustered, turning this way and that to avoid the lasers. He could not turn to aim his own weapons on the Avenger, and was desperate to escape the heat. Another coralskipper, also pursued by a Blue Mist pilot, moved over to try and blast Legorii of his companion’s tail. Legorii broke off, dipping down to avoid the other coralskipper. The Blue Mist pilot shot by after it, and Legorii attempted to maneuver back into a position to fire upon the Yuuzhan Vong pilot on top of him.

He was jerking the piloting stick this way and that, attempting to gain a better angle. The other pilot was taking evasive action, and meanwhile more waves of coralskippers were coming in and pushing the squadron back. It was hell out there. After a few minutes of struggling for their lives, the Commander came over the comm again, this time with new orders from the Quaestor.

“Blue Mist! New orders incoming from Quaestor Rho d’Tana, we are to haul our sorry asses back to the Darkest Night and prepare to move out to the Maw Rendezvous.” Talos’ voice was a welcome comfort and his orders even more so. Legorii immediately wheeled his TIE Avenger around, his lasers still firing at the ‘skippers following his companions. They struggled mightily for a few moments, trying to get the enemy Yuuzhan Vong fighters off of each others backs and form some semblance of an orderly retreat to the flagship. Each fighter was diving, dipping, and rolling, and there was no formation as they flew as quickly as they could back to the hangar.

Raith was the first to make it into the hangar, his damaged A-9 slamming hard into the hangar and hitting the back wall. The pilot managed to jump out and roll out of the way of the second Vigilance interceptor collided with the wall. This time the ship had slowed down significantly, and the collision was much less damaging. The worst thing was they would be flying these same ships in just a few minutes, even if some were greatly damaged.

Legorii was second to last in the hangar, taking a few shots on the back of his Avenger as he barely avoided a collision with the wall. Sparks were flying, and the other pilots were taking cover. Legorii ripped off the safety straps holding him into the cockpit of the fighter, lifting the top and springing out. He landed gracefully on the tips of his toes, managing a bit of a smile to the rest of the team.

Everyone hurried over, some limping and some hunched over. Commander Talos took control immediately, leading the way out of the hangar and towards the bridge of the Bothan Assault Crusier.

“Boys, as you know, we are going about a staggered withdrawal to the Maw Rendezvous. The Yuuzhan Vong are a terrible force, and our current fleet is not equipped to deal with it. I know no further details on our plans once the Maw Rendezvous is reached, but I imagine we will be back out there. Now, come, let us go see our Quaestor.”

Blue Mist moved at a moderately fast rate through the corridors with Talos leading the way. Most of the personnel were rushing around anyways, but at some points the halls were quite congested. The team pushed through, and eventually reached the bridge. The rest of the team waited outside, while only the Commander and Corporal went in. The bridge was busy enough as it was, with preparations to make this retreat go over smoothly.

Legorii looked around at the officers on the bridge, all hustling around issuing orders and overseeing operations. They looked a bit panicked, but not too much, which surprised Legorii due to the state of matters. The Yuuzhan Vong, smashing through the Arconan ships. The Consul, ordering a retreat. Everything was going to hell in a heartbeat, and they were still calm. Legorii was pleased with that, even if he was dismayed personally.

Talos went up to the Quaestor, who stood facing a viewport as he watched the proceedings in space. The Commander knelt, his head bowed, behind his Master. Legorii bowed low, but did not kneel. Talos was the one that spoke, the voice of Blue Mist.

“Master, Blue Mist has done as you asked and returned to the Darkest Night. We did our best out there, but the Yuuzhan Vong enemies are very good at what they do. Master, what will you have us do now that we have returned?” His voice was filled with respect for the Quaestor, and Legorii enjoyed watching another Master and Apprentice pair converse. He and Strategos were very…unorthodox in their relationship, in the way that Legorii often resented his Master and Strategos spurned his Apprentice. But through it all, they were very respectful and appreciative of each other.

Legorii felt his emotions in turmoil as his eyes dulled and went distant. He thought of the other battles with the Yuuzhan Vong he had taken part of, none pleasant memories. Now was not the time to reminisce about times long gone though, and he steeled his gaze and his heart as he turned his sights toward the viewport. He would give his life for this Clan if it was so demanded of him.

Legorii saw Shade Squadron break off their assault on the enemy Yuuzhan Vong ship, pursuing a group of coralskippers headed towards the Abyss. This was a critical moment for Blue Mist, as the pilots had to decide individually whether to pull back in the face of the seemingly unstoppable enemy, or to keep at it.

“Right then Blue Mist, new orders from the Lord Consul, and his apprentice. The fleet will begin a staggered withdrawal to the Maw Rendezvous, to presumably take up the fight again there once the Yuuzhan Vong follow. We will be providing cover against these damned coralskippers, so keep on your toes.”

The commander’s orders were welcome to Legorii, as it meant they were doing something to make a difference against this terrible foe. The other pilots grumbled about it, as for once they faced a battle it seemed they could not win. The Anzati Corporal had come to accept that as fact, and continued to fight on, but some of the others found it hard to come to terms to.

The TIE Avenger rolled as Legorii thrust to the left with the piloting stick, and then he flipped a switch and powered up the engines in full as he burst forwards. In his peripheral vision, he saw an A-9 Vigilance interceptor on either side, blazing forward with him. He did not pay close enough attention to see who the pilots were, but they all opened fire on a cluster of coralskippers moving towards the BAC Darkest Night at the same time.

One of the coralskippers exploded in a shower of debris, clipping a second that spun out and the pilot barely managed to regain control. Legorii assumed a pilot behind them took up that target, as they continued on and it did not fire on them. There were still four of the coralskippers in that little group, and Legorii took the center one. He coaxed the engine into a higher gear, and soon he was bearing down on the coralskipper with his lasers lighting up the darkness of space.

The Yuuzhan Vong pilot was flustered, turning this way and that to avoid the lasers. He could not turn to aim his own weapons on the Avenger, and was desperate to escape the heat. Another coralskipper, also pursued by a Blue Mist pilot, moved over to try and blast Legorii of his companion’s tail. Legorii broke off, dipping down to avoid the other coralskipper. The Blue Mist pilot shot by after it, and Legorii attempted to maneuver back into a position to fire upon the Yuuzhan Vong pilot on top of him.

He was jerking the piloting stick this way and that, attempting to gain a better angle. The other pilot was taking evasive action, and meanwhile more waves of coralskippers were coming in and pushing the squadron back. It was hell out there. After a few minutes of struggling for their lives, the Commander came over the comm again, this time with new orders from the Quaestor.

“Blue Mist! New orders incoming from Quaestor Rho d’Tana, we are to haul our sorry asses back to the Darkest Night and prepare to move out to the Maw Rendezvous.” Talos’ voice was a welcome comfort and his orders even more so. Legorii immediately wheeled his TIE Avenger around, his lasers still firing at the ‘skippers following his companions. They struggled mightily for a few moments, trying to get the enemy Yuuzhan Vong fighters off of each others backs and form some semblance of an orderly retreat to the flagship. Each fighter was diving, dipping, and rolling, and there was no formation as they flew as quickly as they could back to the hangar.

Raith was the first to make it into the hangar, his damaged A-9 slamming hard into the hangar and hitting the back wall. The pilot managed to jump out and roll out of the way of the second Vigilance interceptor collided with the wall. This time the ship had slowed down significantly, and the collision was much less damaging. The worst thing was they would be flying these same ships in just a few minutes, even if some were greatly damaged.

Legorii was second to last in the hangar, taking a few shots on the back of his Avenger as he barely avoided a collision with the wall. Sparks were flying, and the other pilots were taking cover. Legorii ripped off the safety straps holding him into the cockpit of the fighter, lifting the top and springing out. He landed gracefully on the tips of his toes, managing a bit of a smile to the rest of the team.

Everyone hurried over, some limping and some hunched over. Commander Talos took control immediately, leading the way out of the hangar and towards the bridge of the Bothan Assault Crusier.

“Boys, as you know, we are going about a staggered withdrawal to the Maw Rendezvous. The Yuuzhan Vong are a terrible force, and our current fleet is not equipped to deal with it. I know no further details on our plans once the Maw Rendezvous is reached, but I imagine we will be back out there. Now, come, let us go see our Quaestor.”

Blue Mist moved at a moderately fast rate through the corridors with Talos leading the way. Most of the personnel were rushing around anyways, but at some points the halls were quite congested. The team pushed through, and eventually reached the bridge. The rest of the team waited outside, while only the Commander and Corporal went in. The bridge was busy enough as it was, with preparations to make this retreat go over smoothly.

Legorii looked around at the officers on the bridge, all hustling around issuing orders and overseeing operations. They looked a bit panicked, but not too much, which surprised Legorii due to the state of matters. The Yuuzhan Vong, smashing through the Arconan ships. The Consul, ordering a retreat. Everything was going to hell in a heartbeat, and they were still calm. Legorii was pleased with that, even if he was dismayed personally.

Talos went up to the Quaestor, who stood facing a viewport as he watched the proceedings in space. The Commander knelt, his head bowed, behind his Master. Legorii bowed low, but did not kneel. Talos was the one that spoke, the voice of Blue Mist.

“Master, Blue Mist has done as you asked and returned to the Darkest Night. We did our best out there, but the Yuuzhan Vong enemies are very good at what they do. Master, what will you have us do now that we have returned?” His voice was filled with respect for the Quaestor, and Legorii enjoyed watching another Master and Apprentice pair converse. He and Strategos were very…unorthodox in their relationship, in the way that Legorii often resented his Master and Strategos spurned his Apprentice. But through it all, they were very respectful and appreciative of each other.

Legorii felt his emotions in turmoil as his eyes dulled and went distant. He thought of the other battles with the Yuuzhan Vong he had taken part of, none pleasant memories. Now was not the time to reminisce about times long gone though, and he steeled his gaze and his heart as he turned his sights toward the viewport. He would give his life for this Clan if it was so demanded of him.

Jedi Hunter Talos 'Revanche' Annedu stormed through the corridors of the Darkest Night and stalked through the bridge towards the form of his Master, sitting in his command chair. "Master what is it?" asked the armored Commander. "Talos, let us walk. Legorii, make sure Blue Mist is armed and ready for anything" said Rho as he led his Apprentice out of the bridge area. "Master, this battle is not going well...I lost Dorvik earlier" reported Talos. "I am sorry...now you may not be happy to hear this, neither am I" started the Nagai, looking into his Apprentices mask. Talos, realizing it must have been uncomfortable for Rho, removed his Revan-esque mask and the Quaestor visibily was relieved. "Go on my Master" prompted the Sith. "The Lord Consul...has ordered a staggard retreat" announced Rho, stopping by one of the many view ports, gazing out as the last remnats of the Arconan forces fought against the Vong. "What? The Shadow Lord never has us retreat!" exclaimed Talos. The Nagai turned to face his Valheru Apprentice and spoke directly to him. "Talos...we adhere to Mejas because he knows what he is doing. Besides the Yuuzhan Vong are to tough for us. The Lord Consul would have us do a staggard retreat if he did not think it was right" said Rho. "Very well. Where are we to retreat to?" sighed Talos as he realized that, once again, his Master was in the right. "The Maw Rendezous Point" answered Rho, the Nagai was dressed in his Galeres Armour, his Pauldron signifying his dedication to the Clan Arcona. "Very well. Is that all my Master?" asked the Sith Hunter. "Yes. Stay onboard the Night but till then you are on rest" said the Nagai. "Thank you my Master" responded the Annedu and he bowed and walked off towards his quarters.

Talos just finished hanging up his laminium armor when his best friend, Legorii, walked in. "Don't you knock?" he asked of the big Anzati. "I might break your door?" he responded, holding up one of his large hands for inspection. "Point taken. Whats up?" he asked as he sat down at his desk. "I think you should brief Blue Mist on why we were called back to the BAC" suggest Legorii, taking a seat across from his good friend. "Indeed. Do you even know why?" asked Talos. "I have an idea. We are retreating aren't we?" asked Legorii, though he knew by reaching into the Force that he was right. "Yes. A staggered retreat to the Maw Rendezous Point" answered the Blue Mist Commander, rising and beginning to attach his armor once more. "I see. Orders?" asked the Anzati Corporal. "Assemble Blue Mist in our briefing room. I will be there in three minutes" responded Talos as he finished attaching his greaves and boots and now pulled on his gauntlets. "Yes sir" acknowledged Legorii, saluting his Commander and walking out.

Just as three minutes passed, the armored figure of Talos 'Revenache' Annedu walked into the Blue Mist briefing room, his cloak trailing behind him as he strode towards the podium at the front of the room. "Men...let me congratulate you on excellent flying out there today. We saved alot of lives but also lost many, including one of our own. I now ask for a moment of silence for the memory of our comrade Dorvik, who was lost this afternoon as well as the men of Dark Rain and the rest that fell to those Vong bastards" said Talos and he bowed his head. His Battleteam did the same and after about a minute, the Sith looked through his mask and announced. "Warriors...Brothers-In-Arms...we have been ordered to engage in a staggard retreat by the Shadow Lord, Mejas Doto" he announced to the silent briefing room. With no one reacting, the Sith Commander continued. "We are to meet up at the Maw Rendezous Point" explained Talos, brining it up on a holo-projector in the room. "Everyone clear?" he asked. "SIR!" responded the men of Blue Mist. "Excellent. I can't begin to tell you how proud of y'all I am. Keep it up. Dismissed" finished the Valheru. Walking back out of the briefing room, the armored Sith reflected on the events of the past day, and he decided if he died during this blasted Vong War, he would be glad to do so with his Master, his friends, his superiors and his Clan.

Bridge
RSD Final Way
Hyperspace, enroute to the Dajorra system

Astronicus strode onto the bridge, flanked by his Delta-class Advanced Commandoes and took up a menacing pose on the front of the bridge gazing out into hyperspace. Noticing his arrival, Rear Admiral Araic Simonetti walked down the elevated catwalk to the Viceroy of the Dlarit Corporation. Simonetti paused as he came within a few meters and after allowing Astronicus time to notice his appearance he spoke up in a candid tone.

"M'lord Viceroy, it's a pleasure to have you aboard for this operation." Said the Admiral, bowing slightly to acknowledge his superior. "I hope your stay has been a pleasant one so far?"

"Dispense with the pleasantries Admiral, comfort is not what one should be thinking about when heading into battle." Snarled Astronicus. His recent rise in status had dulled his thinking towards the peons that served him. Vexatus was right in that respect, they were mere fodder, but it was needed fodder since there were not enough Dark Jedi in Clan Naga Sadow to even run a skeleton crew of this ship alone. So his new perception was a mutated version of his former, use what you have - waste not want not. Vader had an almost infinite supply of officers to replace those he lost, the Dlarit Corporation was not so fortunate.

"We have a considerable amount of time before we reach our objective." Continued Astronicus, "I want you to co-ordinate with the Deputy Governor General in running some drills for the crew. We must be at top notch performance, one hundred percent no less. We are going up against the Yuuzhan Vong once more and I would really appreciate it if we could cut down on the repair costs this time out."

"As you wish m'lord." Replied the now nervous Admiral, Simonetti never knew the Viceroy to act this way and was perplexed as well as afraid since he knew the power Dark Jedi controlled. With a snap of his heels and a swift salute he said, "We will begin at once."

Astronicus turned and looked out the viewport once again, his attention was else where and not focused on the white and blue lines of hyperspace. Recently the others of the Clan Summit had been taking the lead while he sat back and watched all the while. He was determined to lead now, doing so by example. He would be the soldier at the head of the attack ordering his men to battle as they trailed behind him. He would be the one sending men and women to their deaths in unfounded knowledge that it would be to th e benefit of the Heirs of Sadow. He would stand erect with the Sons of Sadow by his side and bring his enemies, whomever it may be, to their knees (heads being attatched to said bodies being optional).

Eye of the Abyss, en-route to the Maw.

It was only a few minutes before Sashar Erinos walked out of the small holding cell, though it had felt like hours. He and his former apprentice had worked hard to break their prisoner with only a few words to show for their efforts: ‘they know and they are coming’. Illian had been forced to systematically strip away layers and layers of psychological conditioning to reach just that, and unfortunately the subject had died shortly after.

The doors hissed shut behind the Prelate as he dabbed specks of blood from his face and robe as he breathed deeply, thankful to be out of the cloying room. A metallic taste was lingering at the back of his throat and he allowed himself a moment to relax his respiration and gather his thoughts. The Vong had prepared their agent thoroughly for this eventuation and as a result Sashar was back where he started: leading a co-ordinated retreat from his own system.

The sound of the door opening for a second time signalled that Illian had finished with the corpse, and a sideways glance at the exiting knight confirmed the assumption. The mad Equite held a small bacta-cannister in his gauntlets with a glass window in which two eyes floated, strands of gore still attached.

“He was strong Sashar. Too strong for a normal agent of peace…” The glow in Illian’s eyes was slowly subsiding, luminescent neon giving way to a thoughtful forrest-green as he vocalised the idea troubling both Jedi.

“Yes he was. Come, we must return to the bridge. We will be exiting hyperspace soon,” he paused, giving his former apprentice a quick once-up-and-down before grimacing. “On second thoughts, meet me there in a while, after you have cleaned up. And get into your normal attire, you won’t be returning to Blue Mist during this mission; I have other plans for you my old apprentice.”

Illian gave a slight bow before rushing off to change. Sashar Erinos was used to the Knight’s lack of proper etiquette, and forgave him his seemingly rude mannerisms: he knew it hid a deeper sense of efficiency and broken logic that made the Equite a valuable asset.

Ten minutes later and Sashar stood at the bridge of the ‘Abyss, striking a sinister pose as he steeled himself for the second engagement. To his right Illian Syn stood quietly, waiting for his former master to command him, more loyal to his Pro-Consul than anyone in the Brotherhood.

Lavar tensed as he observed figures approaching in the distance. ‘Is the attack already underway? Did the Vong land troops before the conclusion of the space war?’ He thought idly. He glanced left, then right, at the mundane soldiers, gudging both their responses to the figures and their preparedness for the firefight that might be coming. As the figures drew closer, Kent’s finger grew tighter. Only a hairs breath from snapping the trigger, the bolt from which would have triggered the rest of the Arconan soldiers to open fire, the lead figure ignited a violet bladed lightsaber.

‘Could this be a trap’ he asked himself, “Of course it could” Lavar responded in a low mutter. His trigger finger moved straight and off the trigger but the barrel remained pointed toward the figures. The lightsaber deactivated immediately, making it seem like a sort of wave. Sweat began slowly dripping down his forehead as he contemplated the battle in which he would likely lose his life, starting just right then. Looking through his scope it was obvious that they weren’t Vong or one of their creatures, but that didn’t mean they weren’t peace brigadiers. Kant could count thirteen figures carrying three large boxes, four people to a box.

The lone figures skin was black and the other twelve carrying the boxes were a ghoulish white with strange black markings. The lead figure had standard black heavy body armor. It was scratched and dented, telling of many battles past. Its shoulders bore the markings of the First Sun Mobile Regiment. “Mercenaries!” Kant exclaimed. Being that mercenaries made up a large part of the Peace Brigade he probably would have signaled for an attack had something not caught his eye first. On the lone figures shoulders sat dark blue Pauldrons. The former bounty hunter had seen members of Galeres wearing identical Pauldrons. The vaguely gray cloth that hung from the back of the figures belt also seemed familiar.

They were in fact the Pauldrons of command and the ceremonial Kama awarded by Dash some years back as the outgoing QUA of Galeres. “I am Etah d’Tana, Templar of Qel-Droma. I am here to see to this complexes defense. I’m glad you’re here to help me.” The demonic looking Dark Jedi said while reaching out for a handshake. Shaken from his reverie Kant took the dark hand presented to him. “This began on Sakiya, I believe it will take a Sakiyan to end it.” The creature said smiling, reveling a mouthful of what looked to be razor sharp teeth. The same kind you could imagine dripping with blood.

“Brief me on the defenses” the old Merc indicated casually to the old bounty hunter. “Simple box perimeter with eight teams, placed north, north west, west, south west, south, south east, east, north east. Each team has a three man E-web gun crew and a number of riflemen, the leader of the E-web team commanding the position.” Kant looked up and responded without pause “Simple and effective, I like it” the Sakiyan commented, his voice low and harsh, innerving even in reassurance and praise. “I’ll do you one better though” the black creature said with a smile that made Kant’s stomach churn.

Four of the ghoulish figures stepped forward and dropped a large crate, followed by the second four and then the third four-man team. Handed a crow bar Lavar popped the lid on the first create, counting ten T-21 Light Repeating Blasters. ‘Those could be useful’ the bounty hunter told himself. Opening the second crate he counted ten FC-1 Fletchet launchers. Smiling openly at the anti-armor capabilities this would lend his impromptu defense he opened the last, which contained several eleven centimeter long full yield, high explosive armor piercing anti-vehicle rounds. “I want one of my Rangers, carrying a T-21 and an FC-1 at each position. Let the gunners shoot, my men will command the positions” the Templar ordered the Acolyte.

“The remaining four Rangers will remain with me and us five will act as a quick reaction force and a strategic reserve. You will retain command of the exterior defenses.” The seasoned solider spoke and continued. “When your forces are down to sixty percent of their original fighting strength, take refuge and dig into the main entrances to the temple. When your forces are down to one-quarter strength pull back into the inner chamber, in which my four rangers and myself will move all priceless and irreplaceable artifacts and relics”

“When the line finally breaks” Lavar grimaced as the Templar described when the line would break, rather than if. “We’ll carry what we can and destroy the rest, making our way through an obscure passage that will lead us to a waiting LAAT. The survivors will sure up the defenses for the Clan’s last stand on Sukhur.” The Obelisk instructed. Having sensed the journeyman’s doubt about his usefulness and purpose the Templar decided to speak again “Just so you know . . . all that battle meld, battle meditation stuff is great, very erudite. But remember that Ulic was a warrior too” The Equate remarked as he tossed the former bounty hunter an extra energy cell.

Etah turned and stalked into the Temple to gather the most important relics and artifacts. Despite the business as usual attitude he projected to Kant, he was foaming at the mouth. The Sakiyan still recalled with utter disappointment the events surrounding the fall of Antei. The then Dark Jedi Knight didn’t even bother to attend the awards ceremony held near the Shroud, for the recent Rite of Supremacy because of his lack-luster performance. The Vong invaded Brotherhood space but couldn’t pierce the Maw, so Etah was never able to prove himself against the Yuuzhan Vong warrior caste.

Now it appeared he would get that chance, and on the battlefield he intended to be every bit the demon he appeared.

Victory-class Star Destroyer Covenant in Hyperspace
Bridge

“Captain Rineval,”

“Governer Isradia, all stations are at full combat readiness,” Terr replied as he turned to Ashura

“Good, inform Admiral Simonetti and Governor-General Caerick on the Final Way we are ready to process with the operation as soon as we exit hyperspace.” The Battlemaster said stood there looking out at the hyperspace vortex.

“Yes sir,” said the commanding officer of the Covenant. He wasn’t that pleased to have this man aboard his ship; there had rumors and tales about Ashura and what he did to some of the crew of the ISDII Harbinger. The Harbinger's crew was overjoyed when their Commissar became Lieutenant Governor of Tarthos during the time Trevarus was Quaestor of House Marka Ragnos, before becoming Consul (and now Proconsul).

Isradia stood there in thought as he contemplated the outcome of this mission. Ashura didn’t dislike Arcona. In fact he had once served as Rollmaster and later Aedile of House Oriens Obscurum; or at least the other Ashura did, the person who he was before his rebirth at his Master’s hand. That Ashura Isradia was long dead. It simply meant for this Ashura that Arcona was a tool in his own plans.

If aiding Arcona meant in gaining more trust and loyalty among his peers then so be it; Ashura knew that ‘trust’ and ‘loyalty’ were lies… chains that limited peoples potential… all that really matter was POWER and how you got it. This was why Isradia was standing here now. He would watch, wait and see what would happen.

The tension within the Clan was slowly rising between the leadership. An opening would eventually reveal itself and Ashura would grasp it; claiming the position as his own, another step up the ladder of power.

As the battle meditation ended, Mejas looked around the room at the remnants of House Qel-Droma. The House was depleted like never before and three more Journeymen now lay facedown on the hardwood table, blood trickling from every facial orifice before uniting in a blood red halo of martyrdom. Those who had survived were solid, dependable and worthy Dark Jedi. The old saying "...some there be whom shadows kiss..." sprung into the Arconan Consul's thoughts. This saying was never more true until now.

The Shadow Lord sat upright in the Serpentine Throne, his jet black robes concealing all but his blue skinned hands, lower jaw and burning yellow irises. "Brethren, leave me now. Take your rest. We have done all we can. Most of our fleet have survived. We have done as well as can be expected."

The Krath around the table rose to their feet and bowed to their Consul before exiting the main hall. At this point, Kieran Kodiak Erinos came forward and took the chair directly opposite Mejas.

"Master Doto, I have received word from Captain Yamato of the Valour's Fall. All vessels have retreated as instructed, the Valour's fall will remain on the fringes of Dajorra for our extraction... apparently it may be sooner that we had hoped." finished Kieran, his stalwart demeanour revealing no emotion.

"Indeed Sergeant, it appears your brotherly Quaestor managed to deliver the radiation bombs as my Shadow Scion has instructed. We must prepare the Citadel for assault Kieran. It will only be a matter of time before that accursed ship bleeds its bastardised children all over my planet." spat Mejas, his voice rasping with malice as he uttered every word.

"Understood, Lord Consul. I must insist that Malidir remain with you while Soul Fire attends to the fortifications and deployment of troops. Sashar would be less than satisfied if I were to ignore his request."

The Dark Jedi Master said nothing, but nodded at Malidir in approval. There were few who Mejas could tolerate as his "bodyguard" but he knew that Malidir of all would serve him better than most.

As Kieran and Soul Fire exited the main hall every Soul Firian's mind was filled with the voice of their Consul:

"This battle is coming sooner rather than later. The Vong have ravaged our Brotherhood and now Dajorra is open to their chaos. Let me remind you that WE as Arcona ARE the Brotherhood's chaos. Let the two forces clash and see how they fare against our rage! Furthermore, let me make it plain that I will NOT be hidden away like Ulic's sabre. Expect me on the frontline, or find my carcase buried beneath the corpses of my victims. Either is better than the life of a relic!"

As the Zabrak's hoarse, gravelly voice finished its rant Kieran smiled. He knew through legend and gut feeling that his Consul was different to most others and for the first time since his return to the Shadow Throne of Dajorra, the whole Clan would bear witness to his wrath...

RSD Final Way in Hyperspace
Macron and Naiia's Quarters

“Use your ANGER Naiia!” shouted the Sith as he pressed his apprentice’s crimson blade down hard. Her Banlanth riposte was ducked by the madman, who swept her feet out from under her with a spinning kick. She landed on the deck plating with a whoof of expelled air. “Not bad, not bad. You’ve gotten better since our training on the Miner’s Brother,” remarked the Warlord as he shut down his orange saber.

“I’m getting the hang of this weapon,” she replied with a grin as she stood up. “One day, I’ll have you on the defensive master.” The confidence practically leaked from her pores as she beamed. Her red blade still thrummed it’s death song in her hand as she held it loosely.

“Don’t be too cocky. You have no idea what these… Vong scum are like. Inhumanly strong, and their crab armor is unbelievably tough. When you face one, remember to go for the unarmored spots. Joints, the head, the neck, these are their weaknesses,” instructed Macron. His free hand rose, and her blade was snatched from her grip with a force that felt like a truck. He chuckled as he raised it before him. “And against Jedi or Force-users, beware that trick. Never part your attention from your weapon.”

She looked down at the floor. “Yes Master,” she replied sullenly. “I thought I was doing well.”

“And for frell’s sake, don’t take your eyes off your opponent!” screamed the lunatic as he Force-pushed her into the wall. “Gods, you’ll get killed that way!”

“By you, or by the enemy?” she chuckled as she leaned against the bulkhead.

“You are most observant,” cackled the madman. “We shall see.” He sat down at the small table in their quarters and began to prepare some lunch. “You want some sauce with your sandwich?”

“No thanks,” replied Naiia. “I’m in training. You shouldn’t be eating that junk either,” she smirked.

“You are right, Naiia. Students always have things to teach their masters,” he remarked thoughtfully. “In your case, it is to remember my humanity. I suppose we had better get some shut-eye, as we’ll depart hyperspace soon.” He climbed into the sleeping rack as she found her own berth on the other side of the chamber.

“Pleasant dreams,” she said as she pulled the naval-issue blanket around herself.

“I’d be happy not to have dreams for once,” mumbled the madman as he drifted into sleep. Visions of carnage, a twisted reddish Falleen face, and leering greyskins began to swim in his thoughts as the room sank into silence.

After Talos and Legorii left the Bridge, Rho left the crew to manage the turn around and retreat of the ship after leaving them with thorough orders. The mechs would be tending to the broken ships in the hangar while Blue Mist was on rest for a while and the Quaestor would be making sure that the rest of the crew who needed rest got it because they were surely going to need it in the many days to come. Morale needed to be as high as possible and Rho made sure this would happen.

It seemed strange to the Commander, Talos and the Corporal, Legorri and the rest of the Blue Mist crew to be ordered to rest in a time when the battle seemed to rage harder than while they were actually out there, what with the Darkest Night shaking from battle and the retaliation form our own cannons. The Bottom line was that the people who could fight were preserved as much as possible before they were needed again because they had already suffered a tremendous amount of loss and this battle had only just begun, and Blue Mist knew this and they trusted their Quaestor's judgement.

Rho took a few minutes to retreat to the Quaestor's quarters once again to gather his Verpine Projectile Rifle and his Vibro combat knife along with his Lighsaber which he always had with him, in order to be ready for battle. He had chosen to fly with Blue Mist, even if they didn't know it yet, but one never knew when they would need their ground combat equipment and if there was anything Rho learned working within Arcona and Soulfire was to always be ready for anything even if it seemed improbable... like this war.

"Talos, I need to speak with you for a moment." Rho said calmly over the comm., "It's important that you bring Legorii with you. We're going to be at the Rendezvous point soon and you need to know what I've decided. Meet me on the Bridge."

"Yes, Master."

When Rho got to the bridge he could see that the battle was as strong as ever before. They were firing at will and bringing down some of the Vong skippers, while they were firing on the Night and causing some damage, but the most important thing was that it looked like they were luring them OUT of the Dajorra system.

Talos and Legorri entered the Bridge and bowed slightly before their Quaestor.

"How can we be of service?" Talos said respectfully.

"I called you here to tell you that I will be flying with Blue Mist once we get to the Maw." Rho began. "We need all the warriors we can get out there right now and I'm not doing any good to anyone just sitting in here barking orders. I can do that from out there when needed and the Clan summit can contact me anywhere so this shouldn't be a problem."

"We would be honoured to have you fight with us, my Master... but what about the Darkest Night? Who will keep her safe?" Talos wondered

"She is in capable hands with the crew. Besides, if I'm needed here, I'll return..." Just as Rho ended his statement, Darkest Night took a critical explosion to the hull and the whole ship shook violently throwing them to the floor.

Talos sat in his office/quarters, fiddling with the prototype set of armor that he had designed for Blue Mist along with the Quaestor Rho d'Tana. It was very similar to the standard Galeres armour, only that the material was lighter since Blue Mist was made up of pilots and that, unlike their patron House, the Blue Mist set had a flight helmet included with it. These helmets resembled the TIE pilots of the Empire but with a few modifications, the most important one being the ability for the helmet to link with the A-9s of the Squadron. These HUDs displayed cannon strength, shield strength and damage readouts and were vital to the workings of the ship and it was easier for the pilots to have that information displayed in their line of sight then having to look down. Just as Talos was finishing with the helmet, his comlink went off. "Commander Annedu here" he said sharply. "Talos it's Rho. I need to talk to you and bring Legorii" the Quaestor said, then signed off. Sensing the calmness in his Masters voice, he reached out in the Force and relayed the message to his Corporal. Meeting outside the bridge, both dressed in the robes of Galeres Jedi Hunters they swept through the door, their cloaks billowing behind them. Bowing briefly to the leader of their House, they awaited for the Nagai to speak. "Talos and Legorii, thank you both for coming. We are nearing the Maw and I have decided that I cannot sit in the Night and just watch my men lose their lives. I would like to fly and fight with Blue Mist if you allow it Commander" said Rho. Talos was shocked as his Master used his formal title, for he never did out of the bond they shared. "Quaestor d'Tana, it would be a great honor to Blue Mist if you flew with us" responded Talos, returning the use of formal titles. "Excellent" said the d'Tana and he dismissed them with a return bow. "Are you sure about this sir?" asked Legorii as he and his best friend swept out of the bridge. "Positive. My Master is a masterful Force user and a die hard loyalist of Arcona. Not to mention he is our Quaestor and he certainly had the credentials having fought with Soulfire for as long as he had" explained Talos. "Of course. I only meant I am worried about putting our leader out in the thick of it" said Legorii. "I know. I explained my own fears to him before we set out and he assured me he would be safe" confessed the Sith. "Excellent. Orders?" asked the Obelisk. "Yes. The flight armor is done. Assemble Blue Mist in our corner of the hangar" ordered the Commander. "At once sir" said Legorii and left to do as he was bid.

~*~

Talos and two Darkest Night support staff walked in the hangar, each carrying two dura-steel cases. Walking over to where Blue Mist was assembled, they set them down on a long table that had previously held repair-tools, which were now tucked away in their cases. "Men, after much talk and debate and help from our Quaestor, the new Flight Armor is complete!" announced Talos as he signaled to his two helpers and they flipped open their cases, revealing two sets of the armor in each. "Of course, this can be modified but basic specs are this: this material is light yet protective so it allows mobility when flying but protection if we are shot down, ejected or called to fight on the ground. It is painted blue out of respect to our patron House, Galeres and is very similar to that armor. See here" said Talos, pointing to the two shoulder parts. "These allow you to display Pauldrons when you earn them. Here is the connector for the Kama for when you earn that" Talos went on. Hearing this over the private comlink that Rho had established with his Apprentice, the Nagai could only smile. It was not lost on him that his Apprentice had said when and not if you earn them, meaning he knew each of his pilots were destined for great things. Once again grinning, the Quaestor shut down the link and prepared his kit for when the Darkest Night would reach the Maw.

~*~

"Looks good" said the Commander, stepping back and examining his seven pilots, now all dressed in the new Flight Armor. "Comfortable ha ha" said Raith, one of his newer recruits. "Right. Quaestor d'Tana has given us all rest till we hit the Maw and the Quaestor will be flying with us, so lets show him and the rest of Galeres what Blue Mist can do!" emphasied the Sith Commander. "Yes sir! " responded his pilots in unison. "Dismissed. I will call a briefing when we are close to the Maw" the Jedi Hunter said. "Genius armor sir" said Legorii as he caught up with the brisk pace of his superior. "Thank you. Lets hope it holds up. Something tells me that this war will be contained to just space" responded Talos gravely. "Neither do I. However we will aid Arcona in any way, shape or form they need us. We fought them before and we can do it again" said Legorii, all bubbly cheer before turning into his quarters. "Indeed we will. Good words my friend...good words" said Talos as he watched the blossoms of plamsa fire rip through the black void of space.

Republic Class Star Destroyer Final Way
Hyperspace, en route to the Dajorra System
Quaestors Quarters

The bluish tunnel of Hyperspace moved by as one giant blur and as the chamber was lit by
a blue hue the Quaestor sat alone for a moment, sipping from his drink while his eyes
never moved away from the sight outside the ship. He strayed in thought, placing the
glass next to him on a small round table next to the chair.

His eyes moved to his hands, opening and closing them, then his gaze turned to his glass.
He aimed his hand at the glass and focussed on it. Ylith closed his eyes, the Battlemaster
used to have done this a million times at the Shadow Academy when he was still an Initiate
within the Brotherhood. He concentrated, closing his eyes a moment, calling the force by
stretching out his mind.

Then the Valheru opened his serpent eyes, glaring at the glass that stood still, not moving an
inch, the Force not even answering the call the Dark Jedi gave. Sighing deeply the Sith sat back
in his chair, taking his gaze back to the bluish gaze and then in a moment of anger slammed the
glass into the wall, shattering on impact. He sat forwards, burying his face into his hands for
a moment, his long white hair falling alongside his face like a curtain shutting him off from
the rest of the world.

"My warrior, has something upset you?" the Krath Knight said, moving to stand behind the chair.

"This curse has to be lifted...somehow..." He said, barely a whisper and Xathia moved to sit on
one of the chair's armrests and rested her hand on his shoulder gently.

"I need more power.." he said, softly, even though the tone seemed soft his words were as
hard as stone. Something had sparked a flame within the Battlemaster. Desire for more
power, the same kind of power that had been taken from him by the Vong.

Xathia closed her eyes for a moment, then opening them and she moved to stand in front
of the Valheru. "It's time."

Ylith looked upwards and nodded, rising from his chair and following Xathia to the other side
of the room, where a large closet stood. She opened it carefully and it held the Quaestor's
armor.

First she moved to the Valheru and removed his outer robes and throwing them aside, taking
a sleeveless battlerobe from the closet and helped him putting it on. The robe was dark purple
in color, with light purple snakes embroidered near the neck and sides.

She then took shinguards, they were made of a light metal, bronze/gold in color. Fashioned upon
it were snakes, crawling upwards as it seemed.

Then she took an armguard for the right lower arm, fashioned in the same way as the shinguards
and, like the shinguards, strapped upon his body with thick leather straps.

Xathia then moved and took the Torso, wrapping it around the Sith's body, tightening it around his
body with large leather straps. The Torso was made of the same metal as the armguard and the
shinguards and was fashioned with an image of Medusa, a snake haired woman.

The Medusa stood as a symbol for Ylith's handicap and curse, which betrayed him and turned his
power to stone, unable to use it ever again.

Ylith looked at Xathia, who took his Lightwave Shield bracelet and strapped it onto his left lower
arm and then gave him the Livion O-Katana. She trailed her finger over his torso for a moment
looking into his eyes with a grin.

"Thank you." he said with a smile and she moved closer to kiss him for a moment, then moving
away, coming back with her Litch Blade. "Take this with you, and you better bring it back or I will
come and get it myself..." She said with a smirk on her face, though even her wits were not able
to fully conceal her worries.

"I will return, this I vow to you. Be careful." He said and he moved towards the door and she
grabbed his arm, forcing him to turn.

"Have your blade drink deep of Vong blood my warrior..." she said and he nodded with a smirk and
moved out of the door, moving towards the Command Deck where the Overlord and the Clan Summit
probably would have gathered already. By his calculations they passed Iego and were probably close to
Tammar now. It would only be a few more hours untill they would reach Dajorra, and run right into
the heat of combat.

----

OOC:

Almost Wednesday yay!

We will arrive at Dajorra tomorrow,

I have Xanos to write a nice post of what will happen next, I would but I have
work tomorrow and have no chance to post untill around this time tomorrow.

So I have him doing a post detailing the next plot twist and where you should
go. It'll be funky.

Have fun all and if you need to prepare, now is the last chance to do so.

~Ylith

Republic Class Star Destroyer Final Way
Hyperspace, en route to the Dajorra System


Crewman Sisora entered the quarters and waited politely on the threshhold. "Sir?"
"Yes?"
"I have your dry cleaning sir," Sisora said. The young man waited nervously.
"Bring it in then."
Sisora entered carrying the small pile of clothing. Malisane turned and studied him. "Put it in the closet. If there's an offical reception with these Arconan's it might be dress uniform. Can't stand the thing personally but people like appearances."
"Yes sir," the crewman said, and walked over to the large closet, pressing the button sliding the door aside. He looked into the darkness and froze as he saw a pair of eyes open at ground level.

Malisane spun around as the crewman's body was smashed back against the wall as a heavy black furred creature burst out after it, growling loudly. "Home!" he said sharply. Immediatley the creature stopped and looked at him, razor sharp jaws bared at the half consious crewmans head. "What on earth were you doing sleeping in the closet?" Malisane asked absent mindedly.
Gmork turned his head at the sound of his master's voice, not understanding but curious. Malisane walked over, pointing to the corner and the hound walked reluctantly away from the crewman. Sisora was unconsious now and bleeding from his head where it had struck the wall. He sighed and pressed the communicator button on the wall. "This is cabin seventeen, have an injured crewman here. Send a medical team." He picked up the pile of clothes and placed them on the bed. "Come on Gmork," he said, "I think we'll take a walk."

BAC Darkest Night
Private Corporal quarters

Legorii examined the new flight armor that the Commander had given them. It was light yet durable, and would allow for maximum mobility in the cockpit as well as the ground if it was so demanded of the armor. He ran the tips of his fingers over the thin plates, then slipped it on. It was comfortable, Raith was right. After he had it on, he made his way back through the Bothan Assault Cruiser’s corridors and to his private room. He felt the ship rocking beneath him, and could practically feel the vibrations as the pilots out there, in hell, fought the terrible Yuuzhan Vong.

The cot was uncomfortable, but Legorii did not complain. He lay back on it, staring up at the ceiling, rocking with the ships’ tremors. As he stared at a fixed point, he contemplated what was going on. He was losing valuable friends out there, brave Arconans laying down their lives in protection and preservation of the noble Clan in the face of such dreaded enemies as the Yuuzhan Vong. The rest of Blue Mist had been out there and for the most part returned intact. And now they received word that they were due to head back out upon arrival at the Maw Rendezvous, this time flying with their beloved Quaestor. It was an honor, to fly with him, and it would spur the greatest abilities from the Blue Mist pilots.

Some of them may die. I may die. Those thoughts rang empty in his mind, echoing in their screeching lament. In a way he compared himself to the katana that he wore with him at all times. A dreaded weapon, sharp and experienced, and having spilt much blood. But, like the katana, with each battle it became even more worn and outdated. And eventually, it would be cast aside for a lightsaber, just as Legorii would be cast aside for something greater than him. In some strange way, he did not hate these thoughts. He accepted them as truth, the way of life. It would not stop him from doing everything in his power to stop it from occurring, but that was inevitable.

He closed his eyes, roaming through his memories of the short segment of battle. Legorii found that when he analyzed a battle afterwards, exploring every minute possibility and occurrence, he could better understand himself and his enemy. The Obelisk warrior believed in the philosophy that one must know the enemy, and when they know the enemy enough to be the enemy, then you can truly gain victory over that enemy. Their short but hellish fight with the Yuuzhan Vong coralskippers had been so…instantaneous, so instinctive, that Legorii had been given no time to analyze, adapt, and react accordingly. But when he faced them with his brothers and his Quaestor in combat beside him, he would know what to do.

For one thing, the enemy had gravitated towards the targets they perceived to be the most dangerous, naturally the ones spraying the most laser fire. If all of the Blue Mist pilots burst out there and just went berserk with their laser cannons, they would be beaten once more. To defeat this terrible foe, it would take precision and accuracy. Legorii thought harder, and really recognized the fact that they needed to be the more efficient than the ‘skippers to be effective.

Another thing that he realized about the way the coralskippers had engaged the Blue Mist squadron, was that they didn’t move as one. Perhaps they were incapable of moving in a solid formation, but maybe it was just tactics. Each Yuuzhan Vong engaged a separate fighter, and split the Arconan pilots apart. The fighters had to move as one against the ‘skippers, a perfectly coordinated strike force capable of tearing apart their enemies. If that could be accomplished, they could achieve real progress.

There was a third observation Legorii made looking back on the confrontation with the masses of Yuuzhan Vong pilots. They couldn’t think outside the box, they had no improvisation. They stuck to their tactics, and a bit of creativity could defeat them. All of these thoughts ran through the Hunter’s head, but he realized that they were just idea and theories. None of it was proven, and Legorii doubted it could be proven. But that was all he had to go on, and he would do his best to take advantage of each.

Legorii opened his eyes and rolled off the cot. He had his weapons with him, as always. His meager possessions were in this room, and he looked around. There was nothing here that could be of use to him, but all were important items to him in some way. The ship rocked again, and Legorii grabbed a table to stay on his feet. Time to go. The Corporal turned and opened the door out into the corridor, not sure where to go, hesitating. Then he walked towards his Master’s quarters aboard the ship, the ones he commonly took when on the Bothan Assault Cruiser. Legorii knocked on the door, patiently waiting for a few minutes.

After waiting for a while with no response, Legorii hung his head and left. This time he went to the Commander, looking for Talos. He went to the Commander’s quarters, and knocked. This time the Valheru officer came to the door immediately, and ushered him in. “Yes, Corporal, what is it? We still have time to rest until we are sent out again.” He sounded a tiny bit irritated that his rest was being disturbed, but Legorii wasn’t in the mood to care. This was about beating the Yuuzhan Vong!

“Commander, I have been thinking about our battle with the Yuuzhan Vong, and have pinpointed three areas that I believe we can utilize and twist to our advantage against them. I wanted to run them by you, since they are just theories, and see what you think.” Legorii’s voice gave away a hint of his agitation, as he was keenly aware of what was going on here.

He continued without waiting for a response from the Commander, sitting on the edge of Talos’ cot. “Did you notice that they went after the fighters that fired the most? They perceived those pilots as the most dangerous, and targeted them. If we wish to be more efficient, we must use precise and accurate shots to defeat them. Efficiency, not mass fire. Also, they all attack separately, so if we are to beat them we have to attack as one body. A formation of talented pilots, not a bunch of individually talented pilots facing numerically superior foes. And finally, we have an advantage in creativity. We have to be innovative out there, think outside the box. They have shown to stick to their tactics, and we need to mix it up.”

As Legorii presented his theories, Talos nodded thoughtfully. “Maybe, maybe…we will test your ideas out in space, but for now I order you to get some sleep Corporal.” Talos waved his hand, shooing Legorii away. The Anzat stood up and cast one last look around before leaving, closing the door behind him. Feeling as though he had a little bit more of a burden off his chest, he walked back to his own room and lay back down on the uncomfortable cot.

He did not bother to strip off his armor. Legorii didn’t know when he would be called on to fight again, so he would be ready. He shut his eyes and drifted off to sleep in moments, waiting for the blaring klaxons to awaken him later.

RSD Final Way
Hyperspace, en route to the Dajorra system

Ashia rounded the corner of the corridor at a brisk pace. There were lots of things to finalize before they entered the Dajorra system. She was intent on the datapad in her hands and not much else.

A low growl filled the hallway, reverberating off the walls. The Consul stopped suddenly, her hand went to her sabre hilt as she looked up quickly all in one motion.

A large wolf type creature stood at the end of the corridor staring her down. It leapt at her suddenly, sending her skittering across the floor, the datapad, sliding from her grasp and began to lick her face.

Malisane appeared a moment later.

"Gmork, get off her! My apologies, Ashia. It's been awhile since he's seen you."

Malisane pulled the huge beast off the Nightsister as she stood up and retrieved her datapad; straightening her robes as she did.

"It's ok, Mali. I've missed seeing him too." She scratched behind Gmork's massive head. She was one of the few people he would not kill without his master present. When the two of them had run House Ludo Kressh together, she'd care for Malisane's favored pet when he couldn't take him along and the creature had formed his own bond with her.

He nodded towards her as he called Gmork to his heel and let him down the corridor.

-------------
A slight hiss and the doors to the bridge opened as Ashia strode in. Still intent on her datapad, the Consul started barking orders before looking up.

"Admrial Simonetti, please contact Ashura Isradia on board the Covenant have him run those drills with his battle teams. If he gives you any guff, tell him it's on my orders as well as on our Overlords..."

"M'lord. I apologize, I did not realize you were on the bridge." Ashia looked up to see Astronicus looking out the view port and stammered a bit.

"It's ok, Ashia. I appreciate you making my orders top priority."

"Of course, M'lord." She bowed towards the Overlord.

Creases furrowed the man's brow as he returned to stare out the view port at the stars zipping by. Ashia moved to stand next to him and whispered quietly.

"Something vexes you, M'Lord?" It was more a statement then a question. Ever since Caerick had willingly relinquished partial control to her, she had spent more and more time at the side of the Overlord. Caerick thought he could control her to his own ends, but Ashia had her own agenda. To take back the clan for the rightful heir...Astronicus Aurelius Sadow.

He looked down at her, the lines erasing from his countenance for a brief moment as he gazed upon her, almost as one would an apprentice.

"I just don't like waiting for the hammer to fall, my dear."

He sighed deeply as she nodded her understanding.

Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way
Dlarit Special Operations Flagship
Maw Rendezvous

Starlines gave way to a dark abyss as the Dlarit Navy task force reverted to realspace. There was nothing but void, cold, empty and bleak. On the outskirts of the Maw all they could see was the nothingness of hundreds of black holes grouped together.

The air in the bridge crackled with the static of a comm. channel opening. The voice which replied was grave but determined, “Sashar Kodiak Erinos, Principle Steward of Dajorra, hailing Dlarit Star Destroyer Final Way.”

Astronicus Sadow nodded at Araic Simonetti. The Admiral gestured at the chief comm. officer to open a channel. “This is Astronicus Aurelius Sadow, Viceroy of the Dlarit Corporation. It is good to see you are still in one piece.”

“Barely,” replied Sashar, “but yes. The aliens gave us a run for our money on the way out.”

“What is the state of the Dajorra system now?” enquired Astronicus.

“When we pulled out most of the Far Outsiders’ fleet was still holding at the edge of the system near Ereboros. One destroyer analog made a run on Selen but we crippled it. That was twelve hours ago.”

Astronicus nodded, his expression turning grim. Twelve hours was a long time. “Is Master Doto not with you?”

“The Lord Consul covered our retreat from the Citadel with his battle meditation,” said Sashar.

No news then. That was not good. But if Mejas had fallen the Arconae would surely have sensed it. The best Astronicus could hope for was that the Shadow Lord had held out while the fleet regrouped.

“Then we best get going,” said Astronicus. “What would you have us do?”

“We need to take back Selen,” answered Sashar. “The crippled analog had already begun sending troop vessels down when we pulled out. I need your forces to focus on recapturing Estle City.”

“And Mejas?”

“The Lord Consul is our concern,” said Sashar. “We’ll worry about securing the Citadel once we find out the extent of the invasion when we get there.”

Araic Simonetti glanced at the viceroy, waving so as to attract his attention. Astronicus signalled the comm. officer to silence the channel. “What is it, Admiral?”

“Do they have a plan for dealing with the enemy fleet, sir?” asked Simonetti. “One would assume once our fleets converge on Selen the aliens will bring their full forces to bear.”

Astronicus gestured at the comm. officer again. “That will be all, Principle Steward. I will instruct my forces to jump on your signal.”

“You have my thanks, Master Sadow,” said Sashar before the comm. channel clicked off.

Araic frowned. “You didn’t ask them about the Yuuzhan Vong fleets, sir.”

Astronicus shrugged. “If the outsiders do converge on us we will hold them for as long as we must, Admiral.” He sighed, pausing for a second. “But make no mistake. I will not allow this to be another Antei,” finished the viceroy, his eyes darting for a second at the sorcerer who stood staring out the main viewport a few meters away.

Selen
Dajorra System, Domain of Clan Arcona

The Yuuzhan Vong destroyer analog hung in orbit of Selen where it drifted idle, the victim of the rapid hit and run performed by Arcona’s forces during their withdrawal to the Maw Rendezvous. A number of bizarre creatures appeared to swim around it, their tails propelling them through the void as they secreted a dark green liquid on the hull, presumably to repair it somehow.

In the space beyond, stars became obscured as angular shapes of steel and metal blinked into existence, rapidly decelerating to almost bring them within Selen’s orbit. The alien space worms turned, sensing the approach of the infidel vessels and then quickly spun away as they gazed upon the allied fleet now lumbering in the crippled analog’s direction.

Victory I-class Star Destroyer Covenant
Dlarit Security Force Destroyer
Selen

Lieutenant Colonel Barris Karrel barked orders across the staging area floor. Throughout the hangar, teams of troopers, commandos and special ops teams bundled inside their drop ships as the order came through from Captain Terr Rineval to begin the deployment.

The small, egg like drop pods shuttled across the hangar floor into their deployment tubes, disappearing beneath the floor as they rolled in unison into place, ready to be shot out toward the surface of the planet Selen for rapid insertion to Estle City.

Barris Karrel stepped up the ramp of his transport, waving dismissively at the soldiers standing to attention as he entered the passenger compartment. There wasn’t time for formalities. This was war. He nodded at the pilot who had his head bent round from the cockpit. With the colonel’s confirmation, the pilot hit the ignition sequence and a few seconds later the DX-9 transport rose to depart.

Across the hangar, flights of HLAF-500s began to lift off from the floor, heading into the darkness of space to cover the drop pods as they rapidly propelled down to the surface to Estle City. Colonel Karris pictured the same scene taking place in the hangar of the Final Way, albeit on a larger scale.

The transport shot out the containment field of the Covenant’s hangar. Even strapped into his crash webbing, Barris watched through the viewport at the scene as hundreds of individual drop pods sprayed from the underbelly of the Star Destroyer in the planet’s direction and began the fast and urgent fall toward Estle City and the Yuuzhan Vong far below.

----

Clan Naga Sadow members, whether you're on the Final Way (HLK) or the Covenant (HMR), your role is now to help secure Estle City from the Yuuzhan Vong who have already landed.

If you're not in one of the drop pods, you'll be on a troop transport or flying down as part of one of the starfighter squads, but you need to be heading for Estle City, which is the main population center on Selen. More details, as usual, can be found on the DJBWiki.

Dajorra System; Planet Selen
Estle City
Outside the City Walls

The Valheru kicked hard against the drop pod door, sending it away from the drop before
releasing himself from the crash webbing and setting foot on Selen once more. It had been
almost two years since he last set foot on Selen, vowing never to return again, and now
he stood before the city walls of Estle City, the capital city of the Arconan system.

He shook his head for a moment and watched as the Vong were amassing themselves and
startting an assault. The commanders of the Dlarit troopers were already barking commands
and they were setting up a landing zone to bring in more support troops by shuttles and to
guide in the land machines.

Ylith closed his eyes for a moment, a gentle breeze flowing past him and he pushed his thoughts
away and he tightened the grip on the sheath of his Livion O-Katana. Suddenly a group of Vong
jumped over a hillside and while Turbolasers shot overhead the group came close to the landing
zone. The Battlemaster gritted his teeth and turned to face them, unsheathing his sword and
placing the tip of it on the ground.

"Have your blade drink deep of Vong blood my warrior..."

Ylith pushed forwards, activating his Lightwave shield to block an incoming attack of an Amphistaff
and with a clean slash of his sword mortally wounded the Vong. He jumped backwards, even though
the Vong were wounded themselves they still posed a challenge. Troopers were forming ranks behind
him and their commander roared a command and Ylith ducked quickly, blasterfire whizzing over his
head and mowing down the first line of Vong.

"Secure Estle City! We need to keep those Vong bastards out untill evactuation is complete!" Ylith
shouted to the commander and he nodded in reply. "Affirmative Governor!"

Ylith rose from his position and sheathed his blade again, eying the Vong host in the distance,
suddenly his memory took him back into Draken's life, defending Erundwyr, the Citadel city of
the Valheru, from the Valkyri host. This time however, he was determined to stay alive, with or
without the Force.

--------------

OOC:

Alrighty, we have arrived in Dajorra and we'll be taking over Estle city
in order for Arcona to clean up the city itself so we can host a good
offensive.

For now, you should worry on getting on the ground or applying air
support for the ground troops. You can either write yourself into the
ones shot down with the drop pods or you can simply arrive with the
main force when the landing zone is cleared.

Arconans,

I would kindly ask of you to, like my post above, put
down your location at the top so we all know we're on the same page.

This way we avoid hiccups in continuity.

Thanks all, have fun!

~Ylith

Dajorra System; Planet Selen
Estle City
Outside the City Walls

“Bring us about five degrees and settle in,” ordered Krenth to the shuttle pilot. “Group with the other two shuttles so Lord Vexatus can begin his operation.” The DAC trooper stood impassively in his armor as the clone troopers carried out his orders. Two other assault shuttles landed deftly nearby on humming repulsor coils. The bay doors opened with a hiss as the armored clones filed out in perfect order into the greyness borne of their hurled smoke grenades.

The Falleen and his companions strode confidently out onto the hazy landing area. Warlord Macron and a strange looking droid, Protector Naiia, and his personal DAC trooper Krenth flanked the Sith Lord. His face twisted with a grim smile as he spoke. “Macron, Naiia, Krenth, we begin the operation I previously described now. The commandos will lead fire teams of troopers, and all seventy of our operatives will focus on the anti-air batteries. We will approach the interior through that wall breach,” he said while gesturing. “Move out.” A faint snicker escaped his twisted lips as they all began to move.

Flashes of plasma and the raking scream of laser blasts lighted the carcass of the city. Bodies lay strewn in the rubble, limbs akimbo at strange angles. The smell of blood was in the air, and more importantly the smell of fear. “Interesting canvas the Vong have painted here,” giggled Macron as he looked about from his helm visor. “What a waste of biomass,” he chuckled as he stepped on a fallen body that still twitched with a fatal crunch.

“Stay focused on your hatred of the aliens Goura,” hissed the Sith Lord quietly. “Or I will show you no more of the ways of the Sith.” Darth Vexatus knew exactly how to manipulate the madman. His lust for power was one of the few things stronger than his hatred for both the Vong and his Master. The Falleen knew that Macron would be easily reined in by his own hubris, and that was perfect to his thinking. Sith were master schemers and his machinations were wheels within wheels.

The group detached itself from the main areas of fighting and moved stealthily through the ruins. Troopers signaled to each other with silent hand gestures, indicating possible hideouts or means of passage. Most of the main fighting was several hundred meters away, and through the billowing smoke and haze it was hard to spot the group in their blackened armor. The Sith wrapped the shadows about themselves as they moved within the group, almost seeming to be shades within the greater gloom. Soon they would arrive at their target, and Lord Vexatus’ macabre plans would begin to bear fruit.

Lower Observation Platform, Citadel, Selen

The wind tore across the observation platform, whipping the brown tattered Kama round his armour clad thighs. The Mandalorian iron shined silver as sunlight glinted off it, flickering patterns across the dark stone of the Citadel itself. The black clad figures of the Citadel Guard that surrounded him blended ambiguously with the walls themselves adding to their menacing reputation. Assembled from the Dajorran’s that possessed that extra intelligence, those that had taken to their roles within the Arconan Forces with such gusto that they shone out like the Jedi they fought alongside, they possessed an extraordinary understanding and an insatiable lust for combat.

“Jes’erak!” Kieran barked summoning the divisional commander to his side and one of the five snapped forwards from the half circle they had so naturally formed around him on arrival. The man immediately removed his helmet and revealed a thin dry face, with deep sunken, staring brown eyes that spoke of horrors before all topped with short cut brown hair. The force spoke of a strong mind, and a stronger will to serve like all the blank helmeted faces spoke of.

“Lord Kodiak,” the man spoke quickly and Kieran sensed a man that placed great important on efficiency, as though he choose every word with due care “the invaders have begun planet fall and a force is due here in five hours, the Torbai Garrison is twenty minutes away from which the report originates.”

“Forwards scouts report?” he asked challenging the credibility of the intelligence.

“The structure and format would appear to correlate with those in standard use in the AAF my Lord,” another of the helmeted men stepped forward and removed his helmet briefly and Kieran turned to catch Jes’erak nodding in approval.

“Why the hold up with our reinforcements?” he questioned.

“Delays in loading the extra ordinance, it appears they had difficulty .. strapping it to their transport’s hulls,” the Commander raised an eyebrow expecting a question in response to the matter but Kieran didn’t have time for petty musings on the methods of transport, he was concerned that they contained what he wanted.

“The black paint?” he asked again.

“All there Lord Kodiak,” he replied again, Kieran had wanted the defending forces to share the shame advantage the Citadel Guard had with their black armour, blurred against the great building they would prove more difficult targets for the Yuuzhan Vong.

“Then there are defences to prepare Jes’erak,” Kieran announced and was pleased to see the Commander hold his hand out to an aide who instantly produced a datapad so as to not interrupt their master, his attention never leaving his the jaig eyes on his T-Visor. “As it stands we’ve got very little of the landscape to use to establish battle lines so for the time being I’m going to improvise. I want the mining equipment from the mine to the southeast airlifted, when I say all of it I mean all of it, the deep excavators, the earth movers, the tunnelling equipment and if they’ve got any blasting charges we’ll take them as well and I need that yesterday. On arrival I want two concentric ringed trenches dug surrounding the entire complex, join the trenches at four points but for Slice’s sake don’t create corridors I want it defendable if it does fall. The earth can be mounded and bagged to create fire positions, I’m thinking E-Web and F-Web emplacements, PLEX firing positions, you getting this Commander?” he asked glancing to his side briefly, almost losing the mental image he had played out across the landscape.

“My aide is excellent,” he replied bowing courteously.

“Good,” he breathed before continuing, “I want larger mounds placed at greater intervals for the Torbai Garrison’s AT-TEs, and see if you can find a few crews up for making a name for themselves I want to see if I can get some airlifted up onto the lower observation platforms, the extended range could prove useful in picking out their big guns before they get close. Mine the kill zone thoroughly wither everything we’ve got and other than that sharpen sticks and break out the can spanners,” he finished knowing that none of the men surrounding him had a clue what he had just said summoning up the stirrings of homesickness as he longed to be facing this fight with his brothers.

“I’ll see to it Lord Kodiak,” the thin dry voice answered with just enough power so as not to be lost in the wind, and Kieran wondered weather he could summon enough power to prevent his forces from being scattered into the wind.

Outer Trench, Citadel, Selen
Yuuzhan Vong Attack Force ETA 3 Hours

Juda looked up to where he could sense his brothers presence shining down from and held his gauntlet up in a futile attempt to see further up the dark building.

“Trenches almost complete Kier’dika,” Juda called into the comlink, reporting back on the work he had been supervising. A lot different from his usual area of expertise, never the less he had been taught a lot on Dxun about digging a defensive parameter.

“Brilliant, fully serviceable and defendable?” his brother’s flustered voice came over the channel.

“Check,” he replied back already knowing what was coming.

“And you’ve booby trapped the lot?” he asked again.

“Yes Sarge,” he replied morosely.

“And the blast pits?” he asked referring to the plastique charges layed under sheet metal and covered with soil.

“Yes Kieran, its done, the ‘sappers’ reckon they’re half an hour short of the main field and our det crews have already rigged all the charges all they need to do is chuck them in there, all in all I’ll say fourty minutes and we’re clear to collapse the tunnels,” he replied in a gruff voice, Kieran was a good commander but he had the necessity to worry to much over his preparations. Some called him a cautious worry, Juda preferred to think of him as thorough.

“Good job little brother, I’ll talk to you later,” and the link died in Juda’s ear.

“Telak hurry the shab up or I wont let you have first pick on the sniper spot,” Juda said turning to the team leader he had been working with.

Command Post Alpha, Inner Trench, Citadel, Selen
Yuuzhan Vong Attack Force ETA 1 Hour

“Verk!” Kieran bellowed, looking round for the command of the Garrison.

“Lord Kodiak,” he appeared at his side within seconds, “my name is Garosh, I’m Commander Verk’s two-i-see.”

“Your forces are in position?” he asked removing his helmet for the first time that day and letting the faces that had first looked upon him with revered fear, almost believing they could do their job better without him; now they knew they would never have accomplished have of what he had, their looks were full of pride and admiration. Upon seeing his young age Kieran hoped it would bolster the fiery reputation the Jedi had, further instilling with confidence for if someone this young could have done this much then surely they would not fail.

“Yes my Lord,” he replied, a brief glimmer of surprise flashing across the normally controlled face of the Torbai Garrison. “Seven crews volenteered to be air lifted, but Jes’erak thought six would be the ideal number despite my advice-”

“Seven would have created a weaker side which no doubt the Vong would notice and capillize on, eight would have been better but six will suffice, good work, where is Verk on a note, his presence is not required but I would have preferred it at this stage,” he inquired.

“Verk is manning one of the AT-TE Walkers on the obersvation platform my Lord,” he replied receiving a nod of respect from Kieran knowing all to well what kind of target they would soon pose for any of the invading long range weapons.

“And yours Jes’erak?” he turned to the Citadel Guard’s role within the defence.

“Yes my Lord,” Jes’erak replied without so much of a twitch of his stoic expression.

“Then we wait for the prey to come, when they’re fifteen minutes out order the LAAT/is to commence their runs. Kieran had ordered spare fuel be barrelled up and strapped with detonator cord to make makeshift fire bombs, the Mandalorian had planned to utilise everything in his arsenal to stop the invaders in their tracks.

“We make our stand here my brothers,” he spat, placing his ever greying helmet on top of his head and looking out into the dusk lit landscape surrounding him.

“Twenty seconds to decanting.” The navigations officer reported sharply and the shutters on the bridge viewscreens slid back ponderously, revealing the swirling blue miasma of hyperspace. The Beta shift had settled in during the jump and only he, Sulaco and the first officer, Jaal had stayed on. His stomach lurched slightly as the Destroyer pulled itself back to reality.

“Sensor sweep, let’s see what else is out there.” Sulaco ordered promptly.

“We dropped out exactly on target…and we’re starting to see the first arrivals from the rest of the fleet. Looks like we were the first ship here.” The sensor officer reported chirpily.

“Sound ‘em out as they arrive, Lieutenant.” Sashar requested and Lieutenant Niles nodded in return.

“We’ve got the Darkest Night, Creeping Darkness and Last Light as well as over a third of the fighters that were listed as not destroyed as of our jump during the last engagement…however we’re missing any craft from Shade Squadron.”

Sashar swore, a momentary panic seizing him – if his brother had died, he’d surely sense it in the force, wouldn’t he?

“They could be coming with the second wave. The Shadow lagged so that the gunships would have an escort.” Sulaco reminded the Proconsul quietly and he nodded.

“Very well. Hold position here for a while and set up a defensive perimeter. When the Vong decant, I want us to scatter, each going down different corridors through the Maw to try and lose them – they only have two destroyers and aren’t familiar with the territory whereas this is our back yard; let’s use that.”

-=[]=-

The crew of the doomed ship Eternal Torment were dying. The insidious radiation bombs dropped by the invisible blasphemous craft had mortally wounded the already aging destroyer and the crew had all been exposed to lethal amounts – they had perhaps hours to live – the ship would die soon after. An entire Domain had been wiped out by that single swipe from the jeedai’s forces and the dying warriors of Doomain Yullra wanted revenge – they wanted to die with honour, not like shamed ones with flaking, diseased skin and racking coughs. It hadn’t taken long for the Subcommander to order that all surviving troops that were still fit for battle to load up onto their drop ships or stand by at the rear of the ship. The shapers had been able to coax the life out of three of the Dovin Basals and now those diseased organic enigmas were propelling their host towards Selen. They didn’t have the fine control needed to establish an orbit, however Subcommander Yas Yullra had no intention of hovering over the planet like some maligned carrion bird. He smiled tightly to himself and shuddered slightly as he suppressed another cough – he would see the death of jeedai before the day was out.

The Final Way
In orbit around the planet Selon

Agrist entered the room and stopped at a menacing growl from nearby. "Keep that damn creature away from me De Ath."
"Gmork doesn't attack Clan members unless ordered," Malisane replied, not turning away from the glass, which was full of the view of the planet.
"They've landed," Agrist said quietly.
"I know," Malisane replied.
"How?"
Malisane shrugged. "I've been in the Clan nearly six years I have picked up a few force abilities here and there."
"You didn't want to go with them?" Agrist asked.
Malisane shook his head, "Not yet," he replied, "I'd just be another soldier down there."
"I would have liked to have been," the mercenary Battlelord replied, "it's been a long time since the attack on Tarthos, I miss the battle. In many ways accepting this position was a mistake, but I went where Lord Vexatus sent me. It was the price I paid for my life."
"Battle holds little interest for me now," Malisane replied, "I enjoyed it before, Antei, Jaginos, the others. We achieved nothing though. I want a war with some merit to it, for myself, not fighting for others position's and power."
"Your own has increased," Agrist replied, "you have a castle now, rule of a planet, you control a growing company."
"The castle is just stone, the planet is empty of civilisation bar six hundred ewoks and the company has begun to bore me, I want something real."
"Power in the Clan and the Brotherhood?"
Malisane turned to him. "Pretend power," he said scornfully, "a title you keep as long as you don't upset the Sadows or the Dark Council and the Star Chamber, and march your forces to their support whenever they snap their fingers, knowing they could snuff you out whenever the fancy takes them. You want that?"
Agrist considered this. "Yes," he replied, "I'm not a politician I'm a soldier. I don't want to sit in a throne room, I want to lead an army to victory. After that I'm happy for someone else to have the chains of ruling around their neck while I prepare for the next campaign. I served your father, I served Anaxela, now I serve Naga Sadow, the names change but my desire remains the same."
"If that works for you then fair enough," Malisane replied, "I want more."
"I'd find a way of getting it then De Ath," Agrist told him.
"I intend to."

BAC Darkest Night: Arrival at the Maw

Commander Talos Annedu felt the thump of the Darkest Night exiting hyperspace and he rose from his cot and withdrew his comlink from the desk drawer adjacent to the cot. Thumbing it on he hit the third speed-link button, it being the signal for all Blue Mist pilots to gather their gear and meet in the briefing room. Now standing, Talos put on his midnight blue Flight Armor and gathered his belt, on it was his field comlink, lightsaber and dual DC-17 handblasters. Scooping up his helmet from his desk, Talos left his quarters and proceded to the Blue Mist briefing room, one deck below. Standing in the turbo-lift, he held the door open for two enlisted Arcona Defense Force soldiers and when they recognized the Commander, they saluted. Returning the salute, the lift descended in silence and Talos arrived at his floor. Nodding to the two soliders, he walked out and took a left and arrived at the briefing room, where Legorii and Rho were already seated and the rest of his men, minus Illian, were coming in. The Valheru quickly walked up to the podium and hit the button to boot up the holo-projector. "Pilots. Minutes ago we arrived at the Maw Point along with the Eye of the Abyss, Creeping Darkness and other ships. We will be on stand-by and ready to launch at a moments notice. We also have a great honor to have Quaestor Rho d'Tana flying with us today" said Talos and Blue Mist appauled as their Commander announced the news of Rho flying with them. "As for tactical planning, Corporal Legorii has brought to my attention that the coralskippers shoot at who shoots the most. So I am ordering that you only fire quick, clean and precise shots and stay in a group, but not to tight that a missle can take us out. The minute we get sloppy and crazy is the minute that Blue Mist ceases to exist" warned Talos. The pilots nodded somenly. "On a closing note, each and everyone of you watch your own skin and that of your comrades. We will not lose another pilot!" empazied the Sith. Again his pilots nodded. "Thats all men. Dismissed" said the Blue Mist Commander and he shut down the projector that was rotating the picture of the Maw. He walked out with Legorii flanking him on the left. "Sir, I have an idea as for formation" the Anzat said quickly. "Explain" said Talos as he walked towards the hangar. "We split into two flights, each with three men. I will lead one and you the other, making it four total. If you approve, when we engage the Vong, we will split into these two flights and hammer the 'skippers from both sides, then vanish into the battle" Legorii finished. "Excellent idea Corpora. Consider it done" authorized the Sith.

BAC Darkest Night Hangar

Talos sat inside the cockpit of his A-9 Interceptor, preparing the trust fighter for another bought with the vile Vong. "Alright Shroud, we have been through alot already, lets make this another memorable battle" he muttered as he got the green light on all his systems and he took off his helmet and put in on the dash of his control board and he Force-hopped out of his cockpit and grabbed the list of the two flights that Blue Mist would be divided into once they launched. Seeing his Battleteam and Rho standing there, by their respective A-9s, he read the the list off. "My Flight is as follows: Rho d'Tana, Dathka Lukkel. Legorii Flight; JS, Raith Xderon and Dorn Ravir". "Alright Pilots, get into your cockpits and link up your helmets with your control dash" he ordered and then set an example by returning to his own. A mechanical voice came over the speakers in the back of the pilots seat. "Welcome Commander, your Flight helmet is now syncronized with the A-9 Vigilance Interceptor 'Shroud' control dash" said the mechanical voice then clicked off. Sliding the helmet onto his head, the Valheru activated the air the cockpit, closed the hatch and sat back and put his dual handblasters under his seat and flicked on the Squadron Channel and added his Masters frequency. Finally allowing himself a moment of relaxation, he sent a Force-induced love message to his son and Jade, currently staying with his brother at his spacious homestead on Dantooine. Then the Sith Commander looked up as the small whir of the Darkest Nights hangar doors opening and the only thing seperating the pilots of Blue Mist from war was a magcon field. Staring dead ahead, he let his anger pour into the Force. His anger with the Yuuzhan Vong, and his anger at anything that opposes him, Arcona or Blue Mist. Indeed, Talos Annedu was ready for war and if war would not come to him, then Talos would bring war.

THE EYE OF THE ABYSS, HOLDING POSITION IN 'THE MAW'
Prior to the arrival of the Darknes Night

Illian watched as Sashar received the news of Shade squadron, sensing his Lord’s concern for his brother. As soon as the new orders had been delivered to the command crew and the Prelate’s attention was back on the astroid-infested space in front of the ‘Abyss, the Knight moved down to the communications area.

“Lieutenant as soon as the Darkest Night reaches our position I want a priority report on Rho d’Tana and Blue Mist.” The tone in the mad Obelisk’s voice and the intimidating gauntlets he placed delicately on the man’s shoulders guaranteed obedience. Satisfied that his orders would be carried out he returned to his silent vigil by Sashar’s side, glancing sideways for an instant to see the impassive features of his old master still marked by a hint of worry. This in turn worried Illian, the insane Jedi all too aware of how much of a distraction such things could be in a crisis.

A tap on his shoulder nearly earned one unfortunate officer a potentially lethal backhand as the mad Knight turned on the woman, eyes blazing.

“What is it Corporal?” He snarled. The girl was frozen in place, her eyes staring at the jagged black gauntlet that still hovered inches from her cheek. Sighing, Illian lowered his arm and beckoned her close, gesturing to his ear. Recovering quickly she leaned forward and whispered her report, the Knight’s eyes shimmering with fiery interest as she spoke. As soon as she was finished he dismissed her and turned back to his post thoughtfully.

“Lord Prelate,” the Equite said after a moment, pausing until he had heard Sashar’s grunt to continue, “I think we may have something. The Intelligence unit has just managed to break the code our mole was using…” The Obelisk waited until he had his commander’s full attention before continuing. “They believe we may be able to mimic the signal that was sent from the ‘Abyss to the Vong fleet.” Sashar looked hard at his former apprentice, his mind ticking over this new information.

“But surely the mole would have missed a report. Any signal coming at this point would be under suspicion. Besides, all we have is the decrypted signal frequency. If he was commanded to use code-words or trigger phrases then we are back where we started.”

“True enough my lord, but there is another alternative. Once, back in Taldrya, I remember one particular subject on whom I experimented with sonic pain amplification as a form of torture. Using receptors placed in their ears, linked to transmitters located in the tips of my gauntlets and the inside of my mouth, I was able to distort even the lightest touch or sound into a high pitched frequency capable of setting up vibrations through muscle and bone, effectively melting organ…”

“Yes, yes, I get the picture. Do you have a point Syn, because this would be the wrong time for you to psyche out on me,” The Pro-Consul of Arcona growled at his aide. Illian simply smiled and bowed slightly.

“Although it may seem that way, my point is very real. If we were to re-configure the mole’s transmitter to emit that same frequency…”

“… Then we could beam a disrupting sonic signal straight into the heart of their organic vessels. Melted organs you say?” He shared a grim smile with the Obelisk before his features hardened again. “Get down to engineering and make it happen. Use any incentive you want, but it needs to be done yesterday, clear?”

“Angels’ tears Sashar.” Illian bowed shortly and stalked off the bridge. The Prelate returned his gaze to the stars, thinking about what was ahead. Even if this weapon was effective, it was a one-off before the Vong simply blocked the signal. If it worked it would buy them time to scatter, but little else. Still time was a precious commodity, and every little advantage would be needed.

Illian raced down the corridor, ensigns and deck-hands leaping out of his way as he prepared to work the team of engineers harder than they had ever worked before. If everything went well, he would have it done just in time for their Vong pursuers. If not, there would be a lot of dead engineers.

Draco Maligo staggered away from the meditation chamber, where several of his battle team colleagues lay dead. In the Dark Brotherhood, only the strong survive, and Draco was pleased to consider himself one of the strong. But right now he felt like a drained power coupling, and had to use the Force to impel his legs. He couldn’t tell if the battle meditation worked, or helped. With the odds stacked so heavily against Clan Arcona’s space navy they were lucky to have survived.

The Dark Jedi Knight gulped down some water and lay on a sleeping pallet to rest, but the kaleidoscopic visions kept rushing like a torrent through his brain. Surrendering to the Force in that way was a tremendous experience, making him feel omniscient, but it was hard to shut it off. He still felt connected to the minds of his teammates, creating a melange of memories and emotions, visions and voices that threatened to overwhelm Maligo’s sense of self.

He knew he had to regain his strength. The Vong were coming, and they were no push-overs. It would be a matter of hours until the ground combat began. Snippets of the future peppered the visions of the past, all of a common vein, showing death and suffering, pain and carnage. Selen would be a major combat, and win or lose, the turmoil in the Force would add to the dark side nexus that gave the planet its aura. Whether or not any of the Brotherhood would remain alive here, or return here in the future the heady quaff of the spiritual node would nourish the souls of those who were committed to the dark side.

Bridge - Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way
Dlarit Special Operations Flagship

"Admiral, I will be departing as well, prep a larty and have a platoon standing by." Ordered the Viceroy. Turning to his stalwart guardians, the twin DACs standing at either side of him he continued giving orders. "I want you both to oversee the larty's preparation. Also, contact Colonel Damian Voss, he is the ranking D-SOG Surface Commander for this operation and I will need to coordinate a few strikes with his Surface Commander: Colonel Damian Voss - 1 brigade, I want them ready."

"As you wish m'lord." Replied Cresh. The two commandoes turned and left the bridge to see to the preparations.

"Sir, might I inquire something of you?" Asked Simonetti, the Admiral had been standing rigidly before Astronicus. The Overlord inclined his head and gestured for the Admiral to continue. "You said you did not wish another Antei. So when should I withdraw our forces?"

"If your crew can hold up to their peak efficiency that they showed during the dril\Wls, then there won't be a need for withdrawl." Informed Astronicus, "You will remain in constant contact with me, only upon my orders will you leave, understood?"

"Understood, m'lord." Replied the Admiral. He stood to attention and saluted the Viceroy. "We will fight until you give us word not to." Turning on his heels he spun about face left Astronicus to mull over the events that would soon be unfolding.

Forces had already landed and began fighting. Arconans had been fighting for days and the Yuuzhan Vong were still pouring in. Astronicus knew full well that he would no doubt lose half the Dlarit forces to the Vong, but was determined that he would make sure they paid their fair share of casualties in return.

Hangar - Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way
Dlarit Special Operations Flagship

"The larty is prepped and ready, sir." Informed Dorn, his junior DAC trooper. "The platoon is aboard and waiting for departure."

"Very well, let's not keep them waiting down below any longer then." Said Astronicus. "Kick the tires and light the fires."

Once all were aboard the doors sealed on the sides of the LAAT/i and it's repulsor's kicked in lifting it from the deck. After the go ahead signal from the deck crew was given the transport throttled forward and exited out through the magnetic sheild. As they began their approach to Selen sensors detected a mass of coralskippers at the edge of their reach. Dorn signalled back to the Final Way and informed them of the inbound enemy fighters. In response a flight of fighters on perimeter patrol were redirected and assumed an escort status.

The LAAT/i had been upgraded since being purchased by the Dlarit Corporation and was far better suited to deal with such an incident. Thanks to improved engines and drives it was able to stay ahead and out of the range of the enemy.

Final Way Brigade HQ, Dlarit Special Operations Group
Giletta Spaceport, Estle City

Colonel Damian Voss stood, stooped over a holo-table looking at the projected map of Estle City. While Giletta Spaceport had been fairly easy to capture thanks in part to the Vong's distate for technology, the city itself would be a lot harder. He commanded a brigade, three full regiments of specially trained Dlarit troops, and was prepared for a long drawn out battle. He was inclined to believe that those whom he served would be capable of shortening his stay on Selen. His knowledge of the Sith's role in running the Corporation was the only thing that comforted him at this time.

"Major, I need a full report on enemy strength in the Sinchi Caste Temple." Voss ordered as he turned about to look at the hologram of his executive officer. "It will be one of the key areas of resistance as they are pushed back against our onslaught."

"Copy, Colonel." Replied the Major, "I'll get those figures sent over to you ASAP."

As the image vanished the Colonel turned and noticed the Viceroy standing behind, now in front, of him. "M'lord, we weren't expecting to see you so soon. ETA for your arrival put you at half an hour from now."

"Let's just say the Dlarit Corporation's engineering and mechanical departments have been excelling in their tasks lately." Offered Astronicus, "The ride got a little bumpy but was over faster than expected. Now, down to business, where do we stand with our assault on the city? I have a series of strikes I want to institute in conjunction with my units while yours provide cover for us."

"We recieved your earlier transmission and have prepared in accord, sir." Replied Voss.

Estle City
Western Ion Battery
Selen, Dajorra System

The path through the outskirts of Estle City to the western ion battery had been relatively quiet. Most of the Yuuzhan Vong forces had clustered in the eastern quadrant of the city or were now marching on Giletta Spaceport. Far from the main battle, Darth Vexatus and his small party of soldiers and loyal disciples had only needed to deal with token resistance.

If anything, the local resistance fighters had put up more of a fight. There would be no witnesses.

Vallen’dere followed his new Master closely. The Fosh was not used to battle, but he was still able to defend himself. Vallen’s skills were in manipulation and illusion, making him the perfect pawn. While the others focused on dealing with any threats, Vallen maintained a constant illusion, allowing them to move like wraiths, unnoticed among the shadows.

“Lord Vexatus, the ion cannon is just up ahead,” called Macron Goura from up front. His apprentice, Naiia Munlear, was following close by. Most of the fire teams had dispersed throughout the surrounding alleyways, clearing a path before the Sith even neared. It had been a breeze following behind, although the occasional local jumped out to avenge his or her fallen comrades. Darth Vexatus had ordered the troopers to leave none alive.

Turning the next corner, Darth Vexatus looked up at the immense ion cannon situated along the city wall. Towering above the surrounding buildings, even in the black of night and amidst the smoke still billowing from the Yuuzhan Vong plasma volleys the day before, it was unmistakable.

The Sith Lord signalled the DAC with a silent gesture of his hand. “Krenth, scout out ahead.”

The DAC shot off into the sky on his rocket pack without further instruction, disappearing into the clouds of smoke. Krenth didn’t need telling twice. The ion cannon would be well defended. The Estle City police hadn’t let it fall and the Yuuzhan Vong would surely not have left it unnoticed. Breaking in was going to be tricky but with such a small force they could hopefully sneak around behind the aliens’ lines and get inside the tower without being noticed.

Darth Vexatus smiled. Yes, Darth Maestus had been right. This was a better idea after all.

Mejas Doto, di Tenebrous Primus Arcona, Guardian of the clan, Consul of the clan and self proclaimed Shadow Lord stood up from the Serpentine Throne abruptly. Malidir turned questioningly to the Zabrak, but didn’t ask a question – his wasn’t to question why.

Like a demonic horned stormcloud, the blue skinned being swept from the Throne room and down the hallowed halls of the Citadel, racing further and further up the ornate, ancient staircases until finally he reached the top of the Ziggurat. There was a spot glowing in the dying light of the day other than the sun – it was leaving a trail and premonitions of doom reverberated throughout the force. Privately, the hairs on Mejas’s neck stood on age, though he’d never admit feeling anything close to fear – only awe. Descending on Selen, hurtling through the atmosphere at close to terminal velocity was an asteroid roughly a kilometre long and a third as wide.

Its trajectory was directly for the Citadel.

-=[]=-

Kieran brought the macrobinoculars down from his eyes and swore viciously. The crippled Vong destroyer had somehow managed to hurl itself at Selen in a last ditch effort to cripple the planet and even as it was in its death throes it was issuing out countless landing craft, each doubtlessly packed with stricken, desperate warriors intent on causing as much damage to their foe before the radiation finally claimed them.

“Sir, if that hits… it could potentially destroy the planet.” The native Selenian commander warned Kieran and he nodded in agreement.

“Get the SPHAs firing on it. Immediately. I want that thing broken up before it reaches the surface or everyone dies.” He barked.

Almost as soon as he’d issued the orders, the tell-tale blue lines of coruscating energy shot out from around the Citadel, from Torbai Garrison a few tens of miles away, and even a token amount of SAM defences lit up from the distant Estle city – doubtlessly the commanders still in charge of the City’s defences would have seen the threat represented by the dying Destroyer as well.

A collective breath was held all over the planet as the SPHA’s beams cut into the hull, gouging deep furrows into the uneven surface. Five or six of the beams ate away at a single point and with a green explosion, the hull started to splinter. A cheer went up throughout the hastily erected defences as they watched the Eternal Torment break apart – the SPHA cannons darting between the fragments, breaking them up with frightening efficiency: this was clearly more co-ordination than the gunnery crews could have possibly trained themselves to, Mejas must have linked up their minds as one with the aid of the Serpentine Throne.

The largest chunk of the destroyer landed perhaps a few miles down the island and the shockwave knocked a fair few troops off their feet. The ground shuck as if a god had stamped his foot impetuously and the explosive shockwave ripped across the land mere moments later. The shield generator around the citadel absorbed much of the blast, but the smog and dust kicked up from the ground engulfed the Citadel in seconds. Kieran’s teeth chattered from the force of the impact, and when he looked up, all he could see were the hazy blue flashes dispelled through the fog of debris from the destroyer bouncing off the shield. It wouldn’t be long now until the warriors came.

-=[]=-

Sashar sighed in relief as the second wave came out of hyperspace complete with the remainder of the fighters and Zandro was listed as alive. He didn’t have time to dwell on this though – the Vong wouldn’t be far behind and he had a lot to sort out before they could hope to even survive against the numerically and technologically superior foe.

“We’ve analysed their attack, and their co-ordination was standard for a force engaged in battle, however we don’t believe there was a Yammosk in the last engagement.” Major Kemp, the senior Analyst on board the Abyss reported.

“Also, with the loss of their last destroyer, we could technically fight them to a stand-still. Both sides would incur heavy losses, and the coralskippers would eventually overwhelm us, but it’d cost them both of their Destroyers first.” Jaal added, though that was an unappetising idea: the Abyss would be the first cap-ship to fall in such an eventuality.

“Sir! Report coming in from the Valour’s Fall – The crippled vong destroyer was able to reach Selen. She launched the majority of her complement before crashing into the surface. Estle City is a major warzone, and the Citadel is under attack. However, CNS forces have just arrived in-system.”

“We need to back get to Dajorra ASAP.” Sashar said, half to himself.

“Contact! Vong forces emerging from hyperspace in sector 7!” Niles reported, stress already evident in his voice.

“Easy there, sound out what we’ve got.” Sashar chided as he and the senior officers returned to the bridge, taking up their stations.

“Both Destroyers, 3 frigate analogs, 7 corvettes and numerous coralskippers are already launching.”

“Pull back the Interceptor patrols and form up a defensive screen. Have the Darkest Night on the port flank and the Shadow on the starboard. The gunships are to triangle out and add to the fighter screen, and I want the Last Light and the Creeping Darkness to the rear of the formation. The Light will lend long range fire and I want the Creeping Darkness’s fighters to form a secondary screen up behind us to protect them should the coralskipper swarm break through. Also, confirm the different escape routes with all of the hyper-capable ships out there – I want as much confusion as possible.”

“We’re digging in?” Asked Jaal incredulously.

“We’re going to hold here just long enough to set up Illian’s communications bomb, then using the ensuing chaos to slip out. The Abyss will be heading straight for Dajorra and once the vong have been out-run in the maw, we’ll rendezvous back in orbit of Selen. Let’s give him as much time as we can buy.”

Estle City
Western Ion Battery
Selen, Dajorra System



Both Sith eyed the ion cannon emplacement with Force enhanced senses as the troopers around them used their electrobinocs. Naiia was nearby, aiding Vallen with maintaining the shroud that covered them all as best as she could. The nearby Vong and Arconan police forces were engaged in a shooting war, with the occasional maddened greyskin tearing into the entrenched defense group and eventually being gunned down.

Macron looked up as a huge chunk of Yorik Coral slammed into the ground some miles away. The explosion was tremendous, and it threw a cloud of dust into the air. The light from the flames and explosion was mirrored in the eyes of his visor in miniature.

The alchemist smiled, exposing sharp Nashtah teeth implants capped with metal under his faceplate. “Aww, somebody got their little ship broken up. Perfect distraction,” he snickered. “Lord Vexatus, that should have captured their attention admirably. Now is the perfect time to infiltrate,” he commented. “Hmm. Picking up some low-level rads,” he remarked as the sensors in his helm clicked away merrily. “I’d recommend the troops keep their armor on.”

“Yes. We attack now,” gestured Vexatus as he waved his hand. “We approach from the left. Fire teams A, B, and C will weave in pattern Theta,” he ordered as Krenth nodded. The DAC trooper touched his helm, silently ordering the deployment via an internal comlink. He pointed with two fingers, indicating a route of movement to the commando officers.

The Prophet continued to speak. “Vallen, Naiia, continue with your stealth work and follow us. Be prepared for personal combat. Macron, your chance for carnage and ruin has finally arrived. Walk by my side, and let us see what skills you have,” hissed the Falleen. “Kill them with me. Use Trakata until we enter the complex.”

The Warlord clenched his hand and giggled, causing the Armor Fist to whine hungrily as the servos engaged. His other hand raised an unlit lightsaber hilt. “I can hardly wait. Do we give any quarter?”

“Of course not,” replied Vexatus as they began to sneak forward. “Leave none alive to tell.”

“Excellent,” giggled the madman. “My favorite.”

Republic Star Destroyer Final Way
Quaestors Quarters

The Krath Knight moved slowly across the room, her fingers gliding
over various pieces of furniture. Her eyes moved over the floor, watching
the light reflect in it as she walked by. She took her eyes to the window in
front of her, looking down onto the planet Selen. The planet was being
bombarded by crumbling pieces of the Vong Destroyer that was slowly
falling appart.

Xathia gritted her teeth knowing that Ylith was down there fighting as hard
as he could. She gently placed her hand onto the cold glass and when she
did a door whizzed open behind her.

"Lady Xathia, Refugees will come in soon, we could use all the help we could
get..." an Ensign said, clearly commanded by the Clan Summit to prepare for
incoming shuttles with survivors. The Krath glanced over her shoulder and
then took her gaze back at the planet. She moved her hand upwards,
playing with a necklace she wore and whispered.

"You better come back, you promised..."


Dajorra System; Planet Selen
Estle City; Giletta Spaceport
Frontline Defense



A loud growl filled the air and a cackle laughter followed. The Valheru Battlemaster
glared at the Vong Priest who stabbed his fingers into the Sith's arm and broke
them off, spraying it's sickening orange acid blood over his arm. Without a moments
pause the Sith de-activated his Lightwave shield and slammed the bracelet into the
Priest's head, the spikes digging deep into it's flesh and skull.

The Valheru had been fighting for a few hours non stop and his body began to tire out
from all the Vong thrown at him. His armor was battered and he pulled the Vong Priest's
fingers from his arm and threw them away, grabbing the sheath of his O-katana and
pulled it out of a Vong Warror's chest.

Catching his breath for a moment, he glanced upwards, trying to see if re-inforcements
were coming untill something else caught his gaze.

"Incoming!" He roared and all the men in his vicinity repeated the call and ducked as
broken pieces of the Vong Destroyer whizzed by overhead, slamming into the ground
leaving craters on impact. The turbolaser tower nearby fired at the incoming Vong before
a piece of coral slammed through it, making it collapse in the progress.

"Governor! That was the last defensive turret that still operated!" One of the commanders
said and Ylith cursed under his breath

"Set up a perimiter around the Spaceport, we need to hold it untill the survivors are out
of there. That is our priority. We cannot let those people die because of Arconan Ignorace!"
The Battlemaster barked over the noise of battle and impacts of coral rubble.

"Governor Atema! There has been a Vong Deployment spotted at the East side of the city
sir. It wont be long untill we're overrun. The only thing that keeps us from being
bombarded is the Ion Cannon, if the Vong disable that, the City is lost!." A Captain said
and the Valheru narrowed his eyes.

"Send five Squads to the East, I want no heroics, keep them occupied and when it gets too
hot, move out and regroup here." The Captain nodded and he moved out to gather the five
squads for the job. The Sith moved back to the Spaceport and moved his gaze at a group of
twenty Vong Elite. There were those who had their forearms replaced with firespitters, firing
aerie green balls of fire towards the enemy, while others were equipped with Steng Talons and
were fit for any melee challenge.

The Sith moved to the front, unsheathing his sword and throwing the sheath backwards, knowing
that keeping it around would do more damage than good. Suddenly the Vong changed in formation
and the ones with Steng Talons walked up front while those with Firespitters walked behind them.

Ylith narrowed his eyes and then gritted his teeth. "Take cover!"

He barely said it or the vong in front kneeled on the ground and the Vong behind them placed the
massive beastial arms on top of the kneeled Vong's shoulders and fired a line of fireballs towards
the Giletta Spaceport. The Battlemaster activated his Lightwave Shield quickly, the energyshield
shimmering slightly as the fireball slammed into it.

Since when are these bastards so organized? No need to dwell on that now...we must hold..
The Quaestor thought and Ylith grinned slightly as he moved the Livion O-Katana to his side.

"Bring it on vermin...I shall send you back to whatever hellhole you came from..."

Estle City
Western Ion Battery
Selen, Dajorra System

Blaster bolts flew as teams of DSOG commandos weaved their way through the carnage behind the stampeding Yuuzhan Vong lines and heavily entrenched Selenian defenders. Clad in armour as black as the night sky, the commandos were like ghosts, their blasters firing silently at close range, as Vong and Selenian alike fell before the gunfire of the invisible platoon.

Darth Vexatus and Macron Goura led from the front, lightsabers flashing in and out of existence as they tore their way through Selenian and Yuuzhan Vong alike to make their way toward the ion cannon emplacement. The crazed alchemist’s face was masked in madness, his eyes glinting with the rage that flowed through his veins with every kill. The Sith Lord darted through, a look mixed of grim determination and sadistic pleasure; every bit his equally twisted Master’s apprentice.

The Falleen stared down into the eyes of one of the wounded resistance fighters, his heel pressing down against the woman’s throat. A look of terror filled her eyes, born both of the injury she had already sustained from a Yuuzhan Vong which now lay dead nearby, it too victim to the Falleen’s blade, and horror of the Sith Lord looming above, like the specter of death itself come to take her.

Darth Vexatus snarled as he thrust his blade down at the woman’s chest, the weapon coming to life in a ghastly mix of the woman’s final cries and the snap-hiss of the blade flashing in and out of existence. The Falleen relished every cry, every moan of agony, every wince of pain. With every life that ebbed away, he drunk of their pain, drowning himself in their torment. Like the True God he had been shaped to be, Darth Vexatus lived for the pain of others as if he were the avatar of Yun-Yammka the Yuuzhan Vong had hoped him to become.

“My lord, we’re nearing the side entrance,” called Krenth. “Do you want me to blow the door?”

“Light the way, Captain,” cried the Sith Lord over the drum of battle.

Krenth signalled one of the teams of commandos with a silent hand gesture. The four commandos neared the door, each withdrawing a small charge from their pack and securing it to one of the four corners of the blast door before running back and taking cover behind the nearby wreckage.

“Fire in the hole!”

The rest of the nearby troopers threw themselves to the ground as the blast door exploded. A Yuuzhan Vong and a Selenian locked in combat nearby were consumed in the flames, their final cries lost to the deafening explosion as debris was sent clattering across the battlefield.

Macron Goura laughed at the carnage, his robes dripping with the black blood of the fallen aliens he had slain personally. Behind him, Vallen and Naiia followed, maintaining the illusionary facade to screen them from the resistance fighters. Vallen watched as the elder pair of Sith tore their way through the final row of defenders which had flooded out the shattered blast door, longing to taste of that measure of power for himself.

Bolts of blue and white lightning tore through the Selenian defenders’ lines. The Sith Lord drew the Force around him, erupting in a maelstrom of energy, blasting the teams back through the smoking blast door. Vexatus’s face curled as he unleashed a torrent of energy, incinerating the bodies packed inside the doorway.

As the smoke settled, Goura and Vexatus deactivated their lightsabers, gesturing for the fire teams to head through the breach and begin securing the ground floor of the ion cannon emplacement. Krenth landed with a thud as he turned off his rocket pack. Vallen and Naiia relaxed as they passed over the threshold into the interior, no longer needing to exert themselves maintaining the illusion.

“That was some display,” commented Krenth. It was as much of a compliment as they could expect from the DAC trooper. They were bred for war, not idle conversation. Either way, Macron giggled excitedly as he entered the complex. The alchemist’s bloodlust was receiving its full fill this day.

Brigade HQ, Dlarit Special Operations Group
Giletta Spaceport, Estle City

"Sir, we have another wave of Yuuzhan Vong forces marching on our position, ETA is just over five minutes." Reported Colonel Voss, as he offered a recent strategic record to the Viceroy. "Our forces are in position to hold the spaceport, but nothing more. If we don't present a pre-emptive strike now, the YVs will overrun us eventually."

"Thank you, Colonel, I do understand the situation quite well." Responded Astronicus, "I already have my strike team ready. Once we have out flanked them, I want you to bring the bulk of your force and assault them while they are preoccupied with us, the rest of your men will assist Govenor Atema in defending the Giletta. Oh, do be careful about crossfire as well, Colonel. The last thing you want is a Dark Jedi coming after you."

The Colonel nodded in acknowledgement and departed the Viceroy's presence. Astronicus turned and gave Cresh the signal to move out, the commando likewise turned and began moving out the platoon. Astronicus grabbed a few loyal Dark Jedi, mostly journeymen along with a few equites and headed out to catch up with the platoon.

The unit moved out through the rubble of homes and burnt out buildings, for the most part their trek went unobstructed, though there was the occasional scouting party but they were no match for Astronicus' team. They finally reached a point where they could here the marching of soldiers off to their left and they took cover behind the rubble, waiting for the signal to attack. Dorn sent a signal indicating that it was a company sized force. Astronicus stood, ignited his saber and with a roar charged the Vong, his fellow Dark Jedi right on his heels. The platoon held their positions and opened fire on the Vong as they turned to see the cause of disturbance.

Several Vong fell to the ground as the specially trained snipers nailed them between the eyes with their precision shots. The Vong were well trained too, however, and immediately assumed defensive postures as they prepared for their assault. But they would have to react faster to evade the wrath of Astronicus. He lashed out with his saber at a fully armored warrior, his blow was parried by the amphistaff of the enemy. Their battle continued on, as did several more around them as other brave and valiant Dark Jedi fought alongside their Overlord, no one's efforts going unnoticed - one person alone would not win this battle, it would take the force of all to defeat the Vong.

Slashing at the warrior Astronicus brought his saber down as it blocked and held it back. The Vong was a strong individual, his physical attributes augmented by the shapers of his people. Unfortunately for him though, they did not increase his sense of danger apparently, for he did not see Astronicus ignite his second blade. He spun it in his hand and with one swift move, whie the warrior's amphistaff was being blocked by the Dark Jedi Master's, he thrust it upward under the chin of the helmet. The blade sank into the head and pierced through, the body went limp and Astronicus moved on to his next warrior.

::deleted::

“Oh,” giggled the madman. “That was a frelling blast! Hee hee!” Even Lord Vexatus groaned slightly at the bad pun. Macron peered about the darkened area as Naiia and Vallen drank from water ration packs. Troopers filed in quietly, setting up e-web blasters and moving the debris to allow for defensive positions around the breach.

“Find someone suitable for your intelligence gathering skills,” ordered the Sith Lord. “Get the information I seek on this emplacement. If the city is doomed to fall, the Vong will not capture this place. A planetary ion cannon would be inconvenient for our space-borne vessels. Although they detest technology, I am convinced they would use it before cleansing the area.” The lie spilled easily from the wily Sith’s lips like sweet honey, and Macron fell for it completely.

Vallen looked on, attempting to conceal his surprise. Although the alchemist had a keen intellect, he was quite insane and gullible. The Fosh, however, questioned the move silently in his own mind.

“Yes, my Lord,” replied the Warlord with a flourish that slung blood and gore with a splat from his armor and robes. “And you?”

“I have not yet slaked my fill of the Dark Side,” replied the Falleen. “I intend to exterminate a few more lives this day. Come, let us enter and seek.” He gestured to Naiia and Vallen as Krenth oversaw the clones moving into the complex. Darth Vexatus stalked away down the corridor away from his charges, seeking for more prey.

Krenth spoke up. “I have confirmation that there may be Vong in this complex,” he said impassively as he jacked his mini-computer into the nearby dataport. “This cannon has not been fired in some time, and is experiencing internal difficulties. I suspect there may be both Vong and resistance fighters ahead.”

Macron laughed. “Too bad for them then. We’ll have important guests to welcome properly in just a bit. Naiia, please prepare the apparatus and get Blinky online. We have work to do. Krenth, would you please get the commandos to bring us a victi- er, subject? Preferably human.”

The efficient DAC trooper nodded and gestured to several troopers, who filed out in a silent covey. They returned in minutes, bringing with them a human male in an engineer's suit who was bound and gagged. Lord Vexatus returned from down the hallway, covered in a fresh coat of drying blood and fluids. He stood silently like an evil statue looming over the torturous operation, senses probing the man's mind for bits of information.

Macron laughed maniacally as the IT-3 droid approached. "Excellent. Hold him down to the floor Naiia and get him all stapled in. Check his vitals, and we'll get started." The Sith woman held the struggling man with Force-enhanced strength as he squirmed futilely. As the droid began to snake sharp probes into and out of the man's body, he emitted a thin scream. "You and I have much to discuss," hissed the Sith lunatic as he picked up an injector filled with a vile green fluid. "Unfortunately for you, I have some talent in this area and many have enjoyed my treatments before you. And you WILL tell me everything." The shrieks began to rise in tone as the grisly work began in earnest.

Freighter Jarelyn
Sepros
About to enter hyperspace
Zaxen grabbed the case off of his rack, retrieved the magkey for it and took them both to the lounge area of the ship. He placed the case carefully on the table in the middle of the room and inserted the magkey into the appropriate slot setting off a series of whirring clicks followed by a prominent hiss as steam caused by the change in pressure leaked from the seals. Zaxen lifted the lid allowing the mist to clear revealing the cases contents.

The first thing Zaxen noticed was a sword which he recognized as Jade's. Its keen edge rose to two mirrored serations near the tip and its tang was melded to a pommel of black and gold. The hand gaurd was a neatly jagged double bladed shard of destruction and completed the vicious harbinger of death known as The Medusa.

Also inside was a data card and a small holographic projector. He took it out and activated it. A moment of blue distortion and a minature ghost like apparition of his mistress appeared before him.
" Greetings my apprentice. By now you are wondering why I have sent out to sit in space while the rest of us go to bring glory to Ragnos and Sadow. You are probably also wondering why you now posses The Medusa. I will be brief in my explanation as every moment counts. "

Zaxen sat back and listened carefully as the holograph continued.

" I have decided that my son is not well kept in his father's care after ... my incident. With this mustering of our forces the opportunity to retrieve him has arisen. The Marakith Skyhook will be relatively empty and while security will be on higher alert it will also have many gaps. Infiltrate the Skyhook and retrieve my son for me." Jade's image was the replaced by Ashura's
"Zaxen within your case you will find several security clearance badges, a detailed layout of the Skyhook, and the most likely place to find Aragan. When you have retrieved him, take him to Vardor. I have made arrangements for his safe keeping. All the coordinates are already in the ships navi computer all you need to do is punch it up. Planetary security has already been made aware and expects you. If they do question you, tell them that you have been given leave by His Grace, Baron Ashura Isradia, Zolarch of the Imperial House Isradia. Good luck Hunter Zaxen."
The hologram of Jade reappeared and her pleading eyes stirred up very base human emotions in Zaxen. "Zaxen, I would not ask this of you if there were no other way. You have been trained well and I trust no other to do this. Please bring my son back to me." And with that the message ended.

Zaxen sat for what seemed an eternity, dumbfounded at what he had just heard. He stared at the small holoprojector as his thoughts swam up a torrential river, trying to fit the pieces of chaos together. A tension had long been building in the inner politics of the clan over the past several months and Zaxen had done well to subvert it for the most part and concentrated on training and offering what service he could with total dedication. Now everything had changed. He would have to choose.
Clan over his House, his Mistress, and the Disciples of Ragnos or His House, Mistress and the Disciples over the Clan?
Would choosing to aid his Mistress eventually improve the Clan or would the eventual conflict split it asunder?

As a Krath he had learned that all actions should be weighed carefully but in the end actions are still required.

The choice was made.

Marakith Skyhook
Aeotheran

Colonel Minoa Grenis the officer in charge for the evening sat at her control desk in the rather empty command center of the great floating spire known as the Marakith Skyhook. She scanned her various monitors for what must have been the thousandth time before looking out to the now hazy orange horizon as the twin suns of the Orian system began to sink behind the distant jungle canopy. The Skyhook was on lockdown due to the majority of the DSOG forces now enroute to Dajorra. This ment two things. First Marakith was probably the most boring place in the galaxy now and second that Minoa saw herself as perhaps the unluckiest person in that galaxy for having drawn this watch. She sighed and propped her feet up on her desk, leaned back and watched the purple line of twilight fade into deep blue and then the black of night.

Just as she began to dose the Colonel heard the hailing comm sound.

"Malakith Tower. This is Dlarit Freighter The Jeralyn on approach on your two seven zero at one hundred thousand. Please advise for landing."

Minoa lept up and threw the various switches to arm the defense systems of the floating tower and began setting up target trajectories on the source of the transmission. She scanned the make and model of the vessel as well as the squawk code and saw that it was indeed a Dlarit ship but other than that there was no further information on it. She opened up a channel to the Freighter.

"Jeralyn this is Marakith control. Are you aware that we are currently on lockdown status?"

A few moments passed and the mysterious ship responded. " Yes I am aware. Standby for security clearance override." a few seconds pause."Alpha tack Omega Seven Bravo pass Valtris." As the pilot spoke the codes Minoa's screen flashed up with a file that indicated highest level diplomatic clearance.

The colonel's eyes widened a bit. "Clearance verified. Who am I speaking with?"
The voice came back somewhat annoyed. "Who am I speaking with?"
Minoa squinted at the com and replied. "This is Colonel Minoa Grenis."
"Well Colonel. I am Legate Cantis Jeng. I have a rather important concern that I need to see the Governor about which subsequently is no concern of yours!"

Minoa jolted back a sudden wash of fear creeping up her spine at the possible hamper on her career an upset Dlarit official might cause.

"My apologies Legate." she said hurriedly and then added "You are aware sir that the Governor has departed?"

"Is that so? Well then I will require the most secure lodgings until his return. I am carrying rather sensitive information."
Came the irritated voice.

"Yes sir, I will set you up with our most secure quarters. You are cleared to land on platform two two nine, follow present course." Minoa said before flicking the com switch off. She immediately began setting preparations for the unexpected guest. So much for the boring watch. I have a feeling this snooty Legate will have me running all over for his little whims.
She hated diplomats and their particular needs. They were worse than vid-stars.

Another glorified babysitting job.

THE EYE THE ABYSS holding at the MAW

“I’ve done it sir!” The engineer cried elatedly, “the Comm-Bomb is ready!” The woman used the nickname fondly adopted by the crew for Illian’s invention as she nervously watched a frequency reader bounce and spike from the newly modified transmitter. Syn walked over to where she was standing, his green eyes watching the read-out like a cat observing a mouse. He stood for a minute without moving, before giving a brief nod.

“Good, it’s ready for deployment. Syn to Sashar,” he spoke into his communicator waiting for a confirmation before continuing, “The device is prepped. What’s the ETA on the scar-heads?”

“There here. Give it to the communications officer on your way back up here. They have their orders…” As the Pro-Consul of Arcona finished the entire ship lurched as the engagement began, causing the delicate transmitter to fly off its pedestal. Illian stretched out his hand, feeling the invisible tendrils of the force wrap around the device before it hit the ground, and gently pulled it to his waiting gauntlet, closing his plated fingers around it gently.

“Affirmative Prelate, I’m on my way.” The Mad knight turned to look at the engineer responsible for the project. “Congratulations crewman, you’ve saved more than just your own life today. A pity your colleagues were not as helpful.” Giving her a brief smile he walked out, leaving her to stare at the three mutilated corpses heaped against the opposite wall, once friends of hers until they had failed to meet Syn’s idea of efficient work.

Striding up the corridor, stopping occasionally to brace his legs as another explosion rocked the ‘Abyss, he made it to the communications hub quickly. He handed his package to the officer in charge and returned to the bridge. Sashar nodded shortly before returning to his tirade of commands that needed issuing to the fleet.

“Tell those Gunships to start falling back! We need Blue Mist to cover the retreat, but all other fighter squads are to take their final run and begin re-docking immediately! Ensign what’s the status on the Darkest Night?”

“She’s taking a beating Lord, but she’s holding!”

“Good,” he said turning to his apprentice, noticing briefly the fresh stains on his gauntlets. “Are we ready to go Syn?” The other Jedi nodded. “Very well, commence the transmission.” The Prelate ordered. Illian nodded and made his way down to the communication station on the bridge, bodily throwing the officer there out of his chair, and sat down. Sashar suppressed a smile as he watched the mad Knight enter the code that would mimic the Vong signal. All around him the bridge went silent, all eyes on the two alien destroyers moving ominously toward their position. Sashar’s grip on the railing tightened as he stared, and even Illian seemed to be aware of the tense atmosphere, his neon pupils remaining glued to the screen in front of him, watching for any abnormalities from the Vong bio-ships.

Several minutes past as the small flashed of fire that peppered the view ports continued, as did the progress of the destroyers, their organic guns vomiting fire-balls at the tattered Arconan fleet while their smaller analogues engaged the swarms of fighters that buzzed around them. Just as Sashar was ready to order the retreat without the cover of the comm.-bomb, one of the crewmen let out a shout.

“Look! Look, its working!” Sure enough, one of the destroyers had stopped and was listing slightly. Its companion stopped as well, no doubt attempting to communicate with the first, spreading the disorienting signal to both ships. Sashar waisted no time, his voice cutting through the cheers that erupted from the crew.

“Order the fall-back now! Each ship prepare for scatter-retreat and emergency hyper-space entry!” The crew was well trained and went to their tasks with clinical efficiency. After a few more moments Illian returned to Sashar’s side and whispered in his ear.

“Master, the data is showing the Vong Destroyers are already recovering and the signal has only reached a third of the other ships. It seems they are more resistant than I gave them credit for.” He paused as Sashar cursed in Mandalore, bringing a fist down on the rail.

“Osik! Tell me there’s good news!” The Prelate’s frown deepened when his aide only shook his head.

“No such joy Sashar. Also, it seems that at its current scatter trajectory, the Shadow won’t be able to get to Blue Mist without sustaining crippling damage… Talos is cut off out there and we are the only ship that can withstand that much fire.” He trailed off, his green eyes distant. “Can you trade this ship’s battle integrity for six men?” Sashar’s head snapped around, fixing Illian with a withering stare.

“What do you mean six? Who is the sixth member Syn?” He grabbed the insane Jedi’s shirt and pulled him forward. “Answer me!”

“Rho d’Tana is with them,” He answered flatly, gently prying his Pro-Consul’s hands from his clothing. “I have already prepared our attack vectors. If we execute it just right, we can collect Blue Mist and exit to hyperspace just above those destroyers.” Sashar’s eyes were hard as he nodded.

“Make it happen. We don’t leave our own behind.” The ‘Abyss surged forward as molten death rained across its majestic hull. One by one the rest of the fleet began to elongate and disappear into hyper-space, until the flagship of Mejas’ proud fleet was alone, looking down the mouth of the Vong best of war, ready to get their comrades back, or die in the attempt.

Naiia drank heavily from the water ration pack, quietly enjoying a few moments to relax her muscles after the long trek through the ruined city. Closing her eyes she relived the last few hours, she once again saw the broken bodies of soldiers and she heard the sound of blaster fire. In particular she replayed in her mind watching a broken soldier attempt to reach his blaster rifle, the fear in his eyes as his eyes met hers and finally bending over to pick up the rifle to whisper to him “here, let me help you with that.” She remembered the reassuring smile she gave him and the momentary relief turning to terror he showed in his eyes as she climbed to her feet and without a backward-looking glance walked away wiping his blood splatters from her cheek.

Shaking herself back into the present she caught the Falleen Lord's orders “Find someone suitable for your intelligence gathering skills, get the information I seek on this emplacement...” Inwardly sighing, it was time for work. Climbing to her feet she began preparing the apparatus and couldn't help sending her Master a pleased smile when he turned to her and asked her to prepare the apparatus and to get Blinky online. For once she was ahead of her Master.

Finishing preparations as the troopers returned bringing in an obvious engineer. Smiling reassuring at him as she held him down on the floor, his wild and terror filled eyes locked with hers. She watched the green fluid being injected into the mans body, wondering again what the fluid was, vowing to ask for more details once they were back on the Miner's Brother.

Keeping a check on the mans vitals, she knew it would be her skin if he died mid “questioning.” The man cried for mercy and for death all the while she watched her Master's patience and watched the mans resistance to the drugs and torture crumble. She suddenly looked up at Macron “Master, our guest's heart seems to be giving him some trouble. I would highly recommend giving him a shot of this,” she said holding out an injector she had just taken from the med kit.

RSD Final Way

Malisane glanced at the time display on the wall. It was time. He quickly headed for the hangar bay, glancing around until he saw a crewman standing by a small supply shuttle. He strode over, Gmork at his heels.
"You man, I need a lift." he said showing his ID card that identified him as a Senior Commander.
"Where to sir?" the crewman replied saluting hastily
"I'll give you the co ordinates."

The three of them boarded, and Malisane sat back in the co pilots chair, the hound behind him as the shuttle cleared the atmospheric shielding and piloted out into space, heading for the edge of the system. "Watch out for Vong ships." Malisane ordered.
"I am sir."
Malisane waited. "Alright stop us here." he said when they'd reached a spot between two asteroid belts.
The crewman didn't understand but slowed the shuttle to a stop.
"Any minute." Malisane replied, "if they're on shedule."
A few seconds later there was a flash and the radar picked up a contact.
"Wayfarer class medium freighter coming out of hyperspace sir."
"Good," Malisane replied, "right on time."

"Malisane passed through the docking tube and past the hatch, which swung shut. He nodded at the Zabrak in the black robes. "Any problems?"
Dark Jedi Knight Imgormiel Slar shook his head. "I followed roughly the same co-ordinates as the fleet did," he replied, "the Argnok doesn't draw attention to itself."
Malisane nodded. "Signal the shuttle pilot to return to the Final Way, and plot us a course, somewhere on the outskirts of this Estle, not too close to the Vong forces, but not too close to ours either."

The Argnok cleared the atmosphere and Malisane surveyed the terrain. It was largely forest under them, but light as opposed to the denseness of Kangaras or Aeotheran. He could make out Astronicus regiments in the distance, encircling the city. "Put us down there," he ordered his apprentice pointing to a clear area surrounded by trees.
"Will do," Imgormiel replied. He guided the freighter down onto the ground.
"You know what to do." Malisane told him. He picked up his blaster and saber and headed for the doors, which slid open as the ramp descended.
Outside Gmork sat at his masters feet watching curiously as the large cargo pod attached to the Argnok opened, the large ramp descending and a burst of ice cold steam emerging as the cryogenics normalised the atmosphere in the racks of sleep pods inside. He waited a few more seconds as a mass of black furred creatures began to march down the ramp, enhanced pikes gripped and blaster rifles slung over their backs along with grenade belts, and black armour adding protection to their natural high resistance and internal plating. More came down as they slowly formed into six columns of fifty, as several squad sized groups began to move out to scout the surrounding area. Finally a larger creature approached and raised it's pike in salute.
Malisane nodded in response. "Urtarg have your forces move out, we advance on the city immediatley. Flush out any Yuuzhan Vong you find along the way."

Roof Access Corridor, Top Floor
Huascar Temple
Estle City
Selen


Subaltern Qu'maraj Haabrei bristled with indignation and rage at his shame. There was infidel blood to be spilt, glory to be had for the gods, an entire orgy of violence and hatred raging across this heathen city, and here he was stationed, forced to guard this abominable construct. He choked back his fury, fist trembling as his claws sank into the grey flesh of his palm, relishing in the delightful sensation of pain coursing through his nerves. He go and would soothe his nerves by torturing another one of their captives to pass the time. The Yuuzhan Vong warrior become positively aroused by the thoughts of a screaming, thrashing soldier of the faithless dying slowly, painfully under his tender ministrations.

As he rounded the corner, Qu'maraj was so lost, so enraptured in thoughts of ritual disembowelment and amputation, imagining a glorious offering to Yun-Yammka, that he didn't even notice that the grate covering the lift's emergency repair shaft was slightly ajar, bent and scuffed at two of it's corners. He had made this patrol dozens of times over the last day and a half, and seldom paid attention to the crude and blasphemous technologies of the infidels, even their dwellings. The hallway was dimly lit by only the small service lights overhead, and Qu'maraj squinted at the unfamiliar shape hovering in the corner, gripping his amphistaff warily as he edged closer for a better look.

The lifeless GRZ-6B wrecker droid was slumped lifeless in the corner, and the Vong sneered contemptuously as he stepped closer to survey the infidel technology, but the pitspawned machine suddenly thrummed to life less than a hand span from Qu'maraj's mutilated face. Before the startled warrior could react the droid's serrated maw opened and spewed forth a searing torrent of molten slag and scrap metal from it's internal fusion furnace directly into the Vong's vulnerable eyes.

The Vong roared, dropping his amphistaff and clutching the bubbling, seared mass of his face. The Subaltern distantly heard thundering footfalls and alarmed shouts coming in his direction. He blindly staggered backwards, attempting to put some distance between himself and the abominable construct – the war machine! - that had taken his sight. He roared an affirmative to his approaching soldiers, a screamed promise of blood.

The last thing Qu'maraj knew was the sharp buzzing hiss that loudly resonated through the hallway.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The nine Yuuzhan Vong warriors charged in the direction of their Subaltern's call, almost dripping with a nearly-palpable eagerness to do battle and spill blood. As they rounded the corner and slowed to a halt the platoon immediately drew their amphistaffs, grimly noting the headless torso of Qu'maraj splayed on the durasteel flooring. One of their number, a female, stepped forward and cast a suspicious glance at the motionless droid in the corner. Something was clearly amiss here.

“Bos sos si [What is this]...?” one of the assembled Vong soldiers rumbled in an ominous tone, glancing around confusedly. The squad prepared to disperse and search the nearby corridors, but their leader held up a hand, motioning for them to halt. The fine hairs on her sub-octal glands were prickling, standing on end, and she was distinctly uneasy. She strained, trying to locate the source of the faint hissing noise...

Her shriek rang out as she fell to her knees, the grip legs around her mouth flailing and spasming helplessly as it's host clutched at her scalp. The skin had begun to smoke, crackle and bubble, as though a white-hot live current were running through her body. By the time her lifeless body thudded to the cold flooring, the other warriors were in similar states - gagging, choking and screaming in a cacophonous medley that ground to a halt in less than fifty seconds as the last Vong – one who had belatedly seen the trap for what it was and tried to back away – issued a death rattle and slumped against the wall, dead.


A lone Rattataki slid from the repair shaft, contorting effortlessly as he popped impossibly from the opening less than a meter wide. His pale bald head gleamed in the low light, and whipped to and fro, listening intently for the sound of another approaching enemy. Only when he was certain the coast was clear did Fenris move down the hallway, rapping on the wall as he went.

Six figures climbed from the shaft's hatch in rapid succession, the last one of them clearing the opening just as Fenris made his way back. Vorion clasped Fenris's arm in thanks, glancing over his shoulder at the piecemeal droid once again silent and motionless in the corner. “Excellent execution, my friend. Remind me to sing your praises to Bob and Ylith once we're off this slippery Arconan rock...Your tinkering with droids has paid off rather well.” Zaroth and Teu nodded at one another wordlessly, drawing paired WESTAR-34 blasters and moving to assume guard positions at each end of the hallway.

Fenris grinned behind the Dlarit hazardous atmospheric mask, his sallow face lighting up with malice as he surveyed his handiwork. “Thank you. I do love my work, and strive to do it well...but after all, it was your idea. Reprogramming the wrecker droid to attack the patrol? I might have thought of that. Using it to wire up vials and disperse anti-personnel aerosols? That's pretty clever, I hafta admit.”

Ekeia sneered, relishing in the opportunity to get under her wingmate's skin. “Actually, it wasn't his idea,” she chimed in, crimson eyes flashing with malice as she readied her saber and glanced cautiously at their surroundings. “And it was my Violator gas he used. The use of assassin droids as a surprise tactic is something the Krath used millennia ago...One of the few things they didn't steal outright from the Sith tradition.” Her words were teasing enough, but with just enough of an edgy undercurrent to let Vorion know exactly what she thought about his decision to turn away from the Sith Order.

Vorion ground his teeth at the Chiss's jab, but did not dignify it with a response. Tritherus likewise bristled at the slight, his crimson eyes flashing murderously, but did not address Ekeia's comment, instead turning to look at the ramp leading down from the double doors at the end of the hall.

“We should go and secure the landing pad and clearance tower. Our forces need a sturdier foothold in the city, and this is the tallest structure - I doubt the Vong have much, if anything, by way of a guard post up there; they still have enough aerial strength to repel most attempts at landings this deep in the city. If it hadn't been for that stealth cloaking on your new toy, Vorion, we wouldn't have made it this far in ourselves.”


Morrigan murmured in agreement. “Yes, to the first and yes to the second point, Trith...But wasn't the plan to go assist the Tetrarch once we'd secured the top level?”

Vorion nodded curtly. “I think we should station Zaroth and Tritherus up there on the roof. Teu will undoubtedly want to see her Mistress alive and in one piece, leaving myself, Ekeia, and you, Morrigan, to give our Commander her backup?” Morrigan nodded, and they all murmured in varying degrees of consent and enthusiasm.

Vorion turned to his old wingmate, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. “Ah, Fenris, you won't mind holding things down up top? Get as many friendlies as you can on the comm; let them know we've secured the landing pad here and we'll have Huascar Temple under control before long.”

The Rattataki's ashen face creased with a grin. “Oh sure...take all the ladies with you! Seriously, though - not a problem, friend. Plus, I saw medical facilities up there when we were coming down; if you can go help Jade get the power mains active again, I can prep the medstations for our wounded once our air forces break through.”

“Sounds like we have a plan then, ladies and gentlemen. Let's move!” Vorion clapped his gloved hands, and Zaroth and Tritherus made their way up the hall to fall in step with Fenris as he headed towards the roof, moving opposite Morrigan and Teu, who formed up behind Vorion, followed reluctantly by a sullen Ekeia, the four of them heading back down the hall in the direction of the idle lift .

Fenris stopped, the Night Hawks with him turning as well. “Vorion! Keep alert for your comm – there might be a lot more Vong up there than we think – we didn't get a close look on the way down.”

Vorion stopped, his tall, imposing frame bulky and ominous, all the more so for his recent...additions. He contemplated in silence for a moment, his eyes closed. “Oh, about that....no, there aren't any Vong up there, Fenris.”

“How do you know that? You know that they are a total blank datapad in the Force...” the Rattataki replied, staring intently at the Ubese's armored back.

Vorion breathed deep, his eyelids fluttering as he reattuned to the mercurial awareness that had permeated his consciousness since Telos.

“Trust me.”

He resumed lumbering down the hall, and Zaroth and Tritherus exchanged curious glances with the utterly bewildered Fenris.

As Vorion and the lady Night Hawks made their way towards the lift, Ekeia elbowed past her other two wingmates to pull alongside the Ubese, hissing in his ear. “This is ridiculous! I see the strategic value behind your new...costume,” she said, raking an angry glance over his unsettling form. “But now you imply that you possess some sort of..of connection with this creatures?”

When Vorion failed to respond, only staring straight ahead as the lift whooshed downwards, her lip curled in disdain. This fool is delusional, demented, the Chiss thought bitterly. I shall have to be prepared to lead this operation should he slip any further.


Sub-Basement Level 3
Huascar Temple

Jades Imperial Atema whirled in a tight pirouette, her dark hair whipping across her face as the violet flame of her lightsaber blade lashed across the vulnerable shoulder joint of her Vong opponent as three other Yuuzhan Vong warriors lashed out with their amphistaffs, each striking in in turn as she parried and turned their weapons aside. They knew that the jeedai infidel was simply outnumbered, and they were taking their time, cruelly wearing her down. They were warriors; three of the gods' chosen against one puny female infidel. To call for assistance in such a trifling engagement was not only unneeded, but dishonorable as well.

She laughed in spite of her poor position, losing ground and precious energy with each passing moment their deadly dance continued, parry, thrust, riposte, slash. All four of them had sustained an injury of some sort – the Yuuzhan Vong were intelligent warriors, but unafraid of wounds.

Suddenly an thundering barrage of heavy fuel containers battered them from behind as they pressed in on the Sword of Ragnos, the distraction allowing her just enough of an opening to sheath her blade in one Vong's side. As he fell, the others fell back, just out of range of her lightsaber in an attempt to turn and assess the new threat and reposition.

Their amphistaffs slackening in their grip, the three remaining Yuuzhan Vong warriors stared agape at the newly-arrived monstrosity with blank, uncomprehending horror and revulsion. One managed to weakly utter a prayer to Yun-Harla as they beheld the abomination before them in shocked silence.

Vorion stood in the doorway of the lift, the cool blue light reflecting darkly off his full suit of Vonduun crab armor, which had been thoroughly desecrated, etched and painted with profane jeedai symbols in bright, bizarre colors. A grim assortment of shriveled Vong heads with various flashing, beeping baubles stuck to the faces with fleshglue hung from a thick, horrific, dessicated belt made of dead amphistaffs braided and stitched end-to-end. Worse still, he wore a helmet, a headpiece adorned with heretical technology and spattered in the dark blood of the children of Yun-Yuuzhan. A buzzing crimson lightsaber twirled lazily in his right hand as he slowly approached the dumbfounded trio of warriors.

By the time one of them moved, jerking clumsily to the attack, Morrigan, Ekeia, and Teu had already flanked the Vong silently, lunging from the shadows of the junk-strewn basement and igniting their sabers to plunge into unwitting backs. The clash was as short as it was brutal; the three Vong, sandwiched between the Night Hawks, were quickly eviscerated, falling in steaming, ragged chunks to the floor.

“Took you long enough,” Jade sighed in relief as she wiped the sweat from her brow and grinned at her Night Hawks. “Looks like your costume had all of it's intended shock value, little apprentice,” she panted, casting a smirk at Vorion.

He merely nodded, turning back to face the lift. “Let's move...work to do.”

Estle City
Western Ion Battery
Selen, Dajorra System

The man’s screams drowned out the pounding of the turbolasers and ion cannons raining fire against incoming Yuuzhan Vong troop vessels. A blood curdling cry sounded as the IT-3 named Blinky probed the captured engineer with all manner of needles and injections.

To most it would have been horrific. To Macron Goura it was delicious.

“I shall ask again. Where is the main fuel injector?” giggled the alchemist. Despite his unblemished success rate as an interrogator, Macron tended not to care how long his patients were under the needle. In fact, the longer the better for the alchemist, for the more screams he could create.

“I’ll...never...” the man cried out again with a slight lisp, unable to finish his sentence. “No... No!”

“I will not ask again.” Macron eyed the engineer, a look of malice flashing behind his eyes. The man knew the madman was not joking anymore. Macron eyed Blinky who sent a highly charged electric current through one of his probes, causing the prisoner to thrash around uncontrollably, losing control of most bodily functions as drool dribbled from his split lip.

“Sub...sub level two... east...eastern wing,” muttered the man, his hair still smoking where it had caught fire during one of the earlier attempts to shock the knowledge from his lips.

“Good,” Macron smiled. “There, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?”

The engineer collapsed into his restraints, drawing deep breaths, the worst now behind him. “So...” he muttered, “so... you’ll let me... go? Right?” There was desperation in the man’s tone which was mirrored in the look on his face. “I... I have ch...ch...children.”

“Of course,” an exaggerated smile crossed the alchemist’s lips. Even behind his mask of tattoos, the warmth in Macron’s face was evident. It shone of contentment. The engineer relaxed.

“I release you,” whispered Macron as a snap-hiss sounded, his lightsaber humming to life as it pierced the man’s chest, protruding through the restraints and hissing as it burned through the armour plating on the floor below.

The engineer did not scream, only looked deep into the twisted alchemist’s eyes, horror filling his eyes as they misted over and death took him.

“Are you done?” called Darth Vexatus who was standing to the side, witnessing the interrogation with idle curiosity. He could simply have torn the information from the man’s mind, but he allowed the alchemist his small pleasures. It was the least he could do to ensure the man’s loyalty.

Macron nodded. “Let’s head down. The main fuel injector is in the sublevel.”

Vexatus nodded and signalled Krenth. “Captain, have the teams scout out the basement. If the Yuuzhan Vong have entered the facility, they’ll probably already know what we do.”

Krenth nodded and held a finger to his ear, presumably instructing the fire teams silently within the confines of his helmet. He inclined his head. “My lord, do you wish the explosives teams to set charges when they find the fuel injector?”

The Falleen shook his head. “No, not yet, Captain. I wish to see to this personally.”

Estle City
Sinchi Caste Temple
Selen, Dajorra System

The center of all commerce to and from Estle, Sinchi Caste Temple towered in the cityscape as a huge inner city district. It wasn't a temple in the religous sense, but mainly denoted that the majority of the Caste’s denizens congregated there daily, especially in the open market. The buildings round about were scorched with marks of blaster, plasma, and other assortments of weapons fire. Bodies lay strewn about on the ground. There were Selenians, Humans, Yuuzhan Vong and other species caught up in the fighting.

Astronicus's platoon had ventured quite a ways into the enemy occupied territory but were not alone. A regiment of Colonel Voss's Brigade were following behind closely. Soldiers from that unit had mopped up the remnants of the YVs that the Viceroy's platoon had engaged earlier. Casualties were surprisingly low, Astronicus made a mental note of visiting the training facilities back home once this was over to see the instruction that was being instilled in the Dlarit Military units, the Commander General was doing a marvelous job so far.

Stealth was a weapon of choice for situations such as the one they were now in. Vong forces were spread throughout the city and one never knew when they would run into a squad or more of them. Sinchi Caste Temple seemed to be without any enemy warriors, but that was typically always a false sense of security being played out. The platoon made their way forward through the temple area, backs pressed against the wall, stealthily moving in single file. Suddenly Cresh stopped and raised his hand, the platoon froze in place. The Delta Advance Commando was serving as lead pointman, a role Astronicus would entrust to no one else. Cresh had earned high marks during his training, which is what led to his being made a Captain and being chosen by the Viceroy.

Through the use of hand signals he was able to inform the squad leaders of what lay up ahead. There were a dozen warriors on a second level balcony overlooking the market and a squad down below patrolling the area with Voxyn. The beasts were some of the most ferocious predators to be created by the YVs. Deadly Jedi killers, they could sense force users, much like an animal picking up a scent. It would be only a matter of time before they detected one of the Journeyman that was accompanying Astronicus.

Activating his communication piece and whispering quietly into it, knowing his voice would be picked up and heard by all around clearly enough, he began to layout a plan of attack.

"Captain Cresh, you will take 1st Squad and rush in, weapons blazing. Find cover and lay down suppresive fire." Ordered Astronicus, "I will then take my team of Dark Jedi and bull rush the Voxyn and their holders. 2nd Squad and Lieutenant Dorn will lay down fire from here on the balcony. Understood?"

By a series of clicks from the two DACs and his Dark Jedi, Astronicus knew they all understood and were ready to strike. Cresh held up his hand, showing three fingers, he quickly counted down by folding a figner down in each shake of his hand. When he had nothing but a fist showing 1st Squad charged forward. Cresh and two riflemen rushed in, dropping to their knees and laying down fire, picking off one or two unexpecting warriors. His heavy weapons experts then came in, taking cover behind whatever they could find and adding to the suppresive fire. Cresh and his two men fell back to the rest as 1st squad took up a defensive position.

Seeing their que for action, Astronicus came through the arched opening and force leapt into the middle of the Vong on patrol. His sabers were both ignited and flashing about as he landed. The Voxyn went wild, turning and pulling a few of the handlers to the ground as they drug them toward the Dark Jedi Master. And that is when the rest of his Dark Jedi jumped in, they were a motley crew only a two equites were left and three journeymen but they would do. As the Voxyn now sensed them, they became slightly confused but were drawn at the stronger presence in the Force - Astronicus.

As the words of "Jeedai!" were being screamed from the mouth of a warrior sub-altern on the balcony, 2nd Squad rounded the walled areas they had been stationed behind and began to open fire on him and his men. The sub-altern took several shots to the chest and extremities, but it was Lieutenant Dorn's sniper shot that him full on in the face, dropping him like a brick.

And that was just the first five seconds.

Astronicus held his sabers in opposite directions, his primary hand (right) held that saber in a regular stance while his secondary held his other saber in reverse. He blocked, chopped and swung his saber at the slashing amphistaffs and snapping teeth of the voxyn. By now the other Dark Jedi were attacking the group of Vong, who had encircled Astronicus, and were causing utter confusion. Where and when they could, 1st Squad would take a shot at the Vong, but with sabers flying all about they had to be cautious.

A voxyn rushed at Astronicus, breaking loose of it's handler, at lunged at his midsection. Bringing up his primary saber to fend off a blow from an incoming amphistaff he had no choice but to stab downward with his secondary into the top of it's skull. Had he not been wearing his communciations headgear pieces he may have been susceptible to it's screeching powerful sonic blasts. As it was, as the animal collapsed to the ground it's acidic spat began to pool at his feet and it's tail was wailing about. They were known for stabbing victims with their venomous tail barb. Astronicus had no time to concern himself overly much about it, however, because there were more warriors and voxyn snapping at his heels.

Dajorra System; Planet Selen
Estle City; Giletta Spaceport
South side

Green fireballs were flying through the thick of battle, dust swirled up as the Vong
were pushing harder against the defenses of the Spaceport. Should they take it out
the main transport route out of the city would fall and thousands of people would be
left stranded and trapped inside the assaulted city.

The Vong Elite were, simply put, a huge pain to the defensive force. Even though a large
regiment of Arconan Troopers came and strengthened the Dlarit forces, it was still only a
atter of time untill they would be overrun should the attacks continue like this.

The Sith Battlemaster struggled, his connection to the Force was severed and it now took
his toll upon the Valheru. He gritted his teeth, knowing that the Force wouldnt be there to
mend the pain or to seal off the wounds he had gotten. In essence, the Battlemaster was
reduced to a normal Valheru warrior from a distant past. He brought his sword up, deflecting
Steng Talons a Vong Elite slammed into the Dark Jedi.

His sword was forced down and before he had time to back down, the normal arm of the
Elite hit the Sith's face with massive strength, throwing him backwards. He shook his head
while the sounds of battle turned info a soft humm and his vision narrowed and blurred. He
coughed hard and sharply, turning himself around facing the ground and pushing himself
up before he was thrown into a rock by a swift kick.

Gasping for air, Ylith shook his head, several men witnessing the severe beating were amazed
he was still conscious and then both got swiped out of the way as they tried to protect the
Governor. He pushed himself from the ground, his serpent eyes moving to the Vong. In a fast
reflex motion he ignited his Lightsave Shield, deflecting the Steng Talons that were about to
impale him into the rock.

The Elite looked at Ylith, it's pudrid yellow eyes glaring deep into the serpent eyes of the Valheru
and he laughed, laughed hard at the Sith. In a flash of anger the Sith grabbed the Vong by it's
neck and choked him, only to have the Vong release it's grasp of the Steng Talons and having
his immense hands grab Ylith by the head and throwing him aside towards the other Vong.

Once more he would push himself up from the dust. Proud, defiant, foolish, he would still stand
against these monsters who destroyed more than half of the Galaxy out of their own faith. He rose
onto his feet, his nose bleeding heavily and his armor dented and cuts running through it by the
immense power the Vong carried.

What am I without the Force to guide and empower me? - The Battlemaster thought and he ran
towards the Elite, kicking against his sword which was lying on the ground between himself and
the Elite. The Vong laughed, chanting a warsong to Yun Yammka. The Sword whizzed through the air
and the Vong easily avoided it, moving to the position the Sith wanted him to be.

He moved his hand to his back and took the Litch Blade Xathia gave him and sliced through the Vong's
back who turned around in anger as Ylith ran by. The Vong growled as the cut annoyed him, angering
him but nothing more. The Sith then grabbed the hilt of his sword and slashed towards the Elite,
who blocked it with his arm.

Ylith narrowed his eyes and saw an Amphistaff wrapped around the Vong's arm, hardening to block the
Sith's sword. The Vong chuckled and brought his massive fist against Ylith's face again, sending him
backwards. The Elite ran to the Sith, planning to finish him once and for all. The Valheru threw his sword
at him but it got deflected easily. As a last resort, Ylith ignited his lightsaber and swirled it around his body
with fluent Soresu style flicks of the wrists and deflected the Amphisataff sideways and then brought the
saber blade up and severed the head of the Vong clean off.

The Sith fell on his knees as the huge Vong Warrior Elite fell backwards and he dropped his lightsaber hilt
on the ground and with a grunt the Valheru caught his breath. He found his shoulders burned slightly by his
own saber. Without the power to utilize the Force, and the Force to guide him, wielding a lightsaber was
almost suicide to the Battlemaster, rendering that which makes any Force user powerful useless.

He pushed himself up, watching as a large chunk of Coral slammed into the Vong host, grinning and coughing
when it did, then he took his gaze to the Spaceport and the city, wondering if they had the same problems
he had.

Huascar Temple
Top Floor

Fenris, Zaroth, and Tritherus made their way to the top floor of what would soon be their base of operations. Fenris wondered how Vorion knew there would be no Vong up here, but he still held his weapon to strike at a moments notice.

"Zaroth, moment we get up there...open up comm links with Vorion, Jade, Ylith, Xanos, anyone in the area. Tritherus, I want you to do damage control. See if you can find how many Vong are in the area, you should have some sort of Thermal Scanner's in your Night Hawks suit I believe." commanded Fenris. The two just looked at him with bewilderment.

"And what will you be doing while this is going on?" asked Zaroth.

"I, will not only be opening up comm links with Ashia and Tron, I will also be making sure that this place is fully defended. I have brought some moderate explosives, so I aim to booby trap this hallway, if only to daze and confuse the Vong." said Fenris, getting out a multitude of explosives, including grenade packs that would explode after a trip mine was tripped.

Fenris smiled and stuck out his tongue. "Believe me, the blast alone will be fun to watch. If we are going to die, might as well have fun doing so right?"

The others didn't share his sense of humor, nor did he think they wanted to. "Zaroth, after you are done with all those Comm Links, tell me. Tritherus, same goes to you on the Thermal Readout."

Now comes the waiting game....

Estle City
Western Ion Battery Sublevel Entrance
Selen, Dajorra System


The team moved swiftly through the largely empty halls. Blaster scoring and other damage showed in the walls and floor, indicating that fighting had taken place earlier in the complex. One long scar in the wall was crossed with smaller ones, showing furrows ripped into the durasteel. A greenish goo was splattered on the wall, and a detached human arm lay on the floor.

Naiia spoke up. “What do you make of that?” she queried as she ran her fingers over the twisted metal. “I’ve never seen that sort of damage.”

“Probably blaster scoring and some amphistaff markings,” replied Macron. “Looks like the Vong got here first.” He opened his visor with a hiss and dabbled a finger in the slimy goo. He raised it to his lips, tasting the substance. “Blorash jelly,” he remarked.

“That is disgusting. You sure that is safe?” asked Naiia with concern. Her face crinkled with disdain at the nauseating smell.

“Not really,” replied Macron with a giggle. “Kind of spicy though. Needs some salt. Hee hee.” His fingers touched a stud on his gauntlet, closing the visor back down with a puff of gas.

Krenth nodded as the madman giggled. “Consistent with their known methods.” He gestured to a heavy weapons team that dashed forward and began to set up equipment. “They are most likely ahead. I suggest you lure them back to us,” he quipped.

“An excellent idea,” said Lord Vexatus as he closed his eyes. “The absence of Force energy supports your hypothesis. Efficient as usual.”

“I have thermals and movement happening rather quickly down below,” said one of the forward commandos across the com channels as he checked his scanning unit. “Probably hostiles.”

Macron smiled. “My own armor chemical sniffers confirm that. I’m picking up some familiar pheromones in a dilute range…” The distant sounds of clicking steps could be heard from down one stairwell. The alchemist snarled as the readout scrolled in his heads up display. “Voxyn.”

“Copy that,” replied the ever-efficient Krenth as he directed the setup. Troopers placed an e-web blaster in a side corridor, with a perfect view of the main walkway. “They’ll be targeted as they come up the stairs from a high ground position.”

Darth Vexatus looked at the two Sith that followed him. “Let us draw our next victim in,” he snarled. “Naiia, stay back and support us. Voxyn are not pleasant to encounter the first time, especially as a Journeyman. They are trained to seek and kill Force-users like yourself.”

The Sith woman looked confused for a second. “Won’t they kill you?” she asked as she looked from her master to the Sith Lord.

The snap of igniting lightsabers and a low chuckle was her reply. “Doubtful,” laughed Vexatus evilly as the bloodthirsty pair disappeared down the stairs. “We’ll be right back.”

Selen
Approaching Estle

Zarashand Durkh moved through the trees, his warriors surrounding him. "Watch out of jeedai or their forces," he ordered, "they are at the enemy settlement already."
Nearby Tsobath Jarl turns his head and studied the leader. "You intend to attack?"
"Not yet," Zarashand replied, "we will wait until more of our brethren arrive, then sweep the filth from this land. For now we will watch and wait."
"Your thought is good," his second replied eagerly."

Ahead one of the forward scouts stopped, raising his hand. Immediatley the Vong party stopped. "What is it?"
"Ahead," the Vong scout replied, "two of them."
"Jeedai?" Zarashand asked
"It is not possible to say yet."
"Move forward and surround them." the leader ordered.
The Yuuzhan Vong fanned out, moving cautiously but confidently forward. Zarashand moved to the front, eagerly looking for any sign. Then his eyes glittered. Ahead in a large clearing were two of the aliens, a tall one with dark hair, and a tatooed one with spikes on his head. They seemed unaware anyone was near. "Jeedai." he muttered happily. "Attack."

Zarashand's force moved quickly towards the aliens into the clearing. The two aliens turned and stopped as they spied the approaching warriors. They glanced at each other then stood side by side, their energy weapons bursting into life. They waited resolutley as the Vong line moved towards them. Suddenly Zarashands ears pricked up as several whistling noises sounded and a second later several of his warriors were blasted aside as explosions rocked the ground around him as thrown projectiles landed amongst them. A second later blaster fire sounded as shots rebounded off armour and send warriors tumbling to the floor as the fire found heads and other vunerable area in the otherwise impenatrable armour. Zarashand met the eyes of the alien with the dark hair as his warriors split up, amphistaffs raised as they ran into the trees searching for their assaliants. The man looked back at him and smiled. Zarashand snarled and ran straight for him.

Malisane raised his saber as the vong leader charged towards him, meeting the whip as the staff snaked towards him, holding the hilt hard to stop it being wrenched from his grip. He attacked back, his powerful muscles driving the saber blade towards the vongs head and immediatley the staff stiffened as the warrior blocked. Malisane was enjoying himself as he blocked another strike and battled back. Around him he could sense the bloodthirsty eagerness as his sith-spawned ewoks battled the Vong, attacking then breaking and retreating letting forth the deadly gredades and blaster fire that targeted the Vong defences. Nearby Imgormiel fought another of them with the skill Malisane had taught him and the zabrak was performing excellantly. The Battlelord snarled as he drove the warrior back. He was unable to sense the enemies attacks but it didn't matter it wasn't nessesary, the Vong was just another fighter to be slain.

Zanashand was suprised by the jeedai's skill. The leader had fought others of his kind over the years, and his fellow warriors for supremecy and he was a skilled fighter that his followers respected and feared, but the jeedai blocked every attack and hit back with his own. Nearby Tsobath fought the other jeedai and around him his warriors fought a battle with the strange short furred creatures whose appearance betrayed their skill. He concentrated on his opponent, sensing that if he killed him the creatures might be subdued after.

Malisane ducked and rolled as the staff whipped around again, first softening then hardening as the vong used all his tricks against the Sith. Malisane blocked another and sliced down at the warrior's legs, not penetrating the crab armour but the strike hard enough to knock the leader from his feet. Malisane pushed himself up as the vong scrambled to his own feet, but a touch too slow as Malisane drove his saber down into a gap in the enemys shoulder armoud, slicing through the softer protection and flesh and bone, sending the arm falling to the floor. The Vong's raised the staff with his remaining hand, but Malisane battered it aside, and sliced the saber down once more, the blade sliding the top of the vongs head off like a boiled egg. The creatures body fell finally to the floor.

Malisane dusted himself off as he looked around, the battle had changed now, the ewoks had battled hard, only fighting pike to staff when nessesary, and concentrated on forming a deadly ring of fire around the Vong. Now the warriors were firmly the hunted, scattered in the trees they fought well but the ewoks picked them off one by one. Within then minutes twenty ewoks were dead on the floor, but nearly fourty of the Yuuhzan Vong had joined them, overwhelmed by the ambush and superior numbers.

Malisane glanced at Urtarg and Imgormiel as they approached. "We proceed."
"What is our intention?" Imgormiel asked, "do we join up with Lord Astronicus and the rest?"
"Possibly," Malisane replied, "we will see how this proceeds. We may gain something more useful."

Maw Space

Talos, Rho, Legorii and the rest of Blue Mist dived and dipped their A-9s through the intense combat. "Alright Blue Mist, on my go, break off into your flights" he ordered over the Battleteams channel. "When we ride over the Shadow" he added, as the Qel-Droma flagship loomed closer. As Blue Mist tilted their Interceptors up, Talos gave the order. "Now! Break off men!" he yelled into the comlink. Talos and his Flight rolled port while Legorii and his Flight rolled starboard. Yuuzhan Coralskippers broke after both Flights, their organic starfighters nearly matching the A-9s speed. "Remeber men, don't blind fire. Quick, clean and precise and fire as a group!" said Talos, restating his earlier order. "Copy Talos" said Rho as blue plasma appeared and disabled a 'skipper. "Just as the Sith Commander finished off his Masters work, a private link beeped him for attention. "Flight Helmet, answer" he commanded and the voice of his Trooper, Illian Syn, filled the helmet. "Commander. The Communications Bomb has been launched but the Vong recovered quicker than expected. Proconsul has ordered the staggered retreat, however the Shadow cannot get to you without sustainting massive damage. We can't allow that. I have planned attack-vectors and we plan on picking you up before our jump. Be at the coordinates I am sending you when I give your com another beep. Syn out":. "Copy Syn, Annedu over and out. Saving the coordinates, Talos explained the situation to Legorii and his Battleteam. "Affirmative sir. We won't miss it" said JS. "Lets hope so" replied the Sith as he gunned his engines after another Yuuzhan Coralskipper.

Eye of the Abyss

Illian rose from the Communications Station and reported to his former Master. "Sashar, Blue Mist has been given the coordinates. They will be at the pick-up point as specified" said the Mad Knight. "Very good Syn. Return to the Communications Station and make sure our entire fleet knows of the plan" instructed the Mandalorian Proconsul. "Yes my Lord" replied Illian.

Maw Space Battle: Nearing the time of extraction

"Hahaha! Nice one Flight" complimented Legorii as he and his Flight members blasted a Vong out of the galaxy. "Blue Mist, this is Commander Annedu, we have ten minutes till the extraction of us via the Eye of the Abyss, be ready" the Valheru Sith said. "Acknowledged" came the six other replies.

Within Talos's own Flight, two more Yuuzhan pilots were evaporated as Rho and Talos charged from them from both fronts, blue plasma peppering the organic hulls and eventually giving way to a mass of bio-explosion. "Ah damn!" I'm hit on the port thruster" said the Galeres Quaestor. "Hold on Master" replied Talos as he sped towards the Quaestor A-9. "We have 3 minutes. I repeat, we have 3 minutes. Blue Mist, break off engagements and head towards the extraction point" the Commander said over the Battleteam Channel. "Dathka, assist me in escorting Quaestor d'Tana to the point. "I really don't need that much" said the Nagai resentfully. "I'm not a Knight yet. I won't lose you Master" answered the Annedu stiffly as Dathka banked right and came up on Rho's starboard side. "Right. 2 minutes. Lets go. Thrusters open" ordered Talos as he blasted a piece of debrie out of his way. The three blue A-9 Interceptors sped towards the looming shape of the Abyss as did the other A-9s of Blue Mist Squadron. Sure enough, Illian beeped Talos's commlink exactly at the time. "Talos...eh sir, all of Blue Mist are on board except you, Dathka and Quaestor d'Tana. Where are you sir?" asked Illian. "Coming up on it now. Give us ten seconds" replied Talos as he coaxed all he could out of his thrusters, with Rho coming up even, his starboard thruster starting to smoke from over-use. "Right" said Illian then cut the link. 11 seconds later, the three remaining A-9 Interceptors flew through the magcon field of the Eye of the Abyss and a second later, the hangar doors slammed shut. A second after that, the flagship of Clan Arcona vanished into hyperspace.

Estle City
Sinchi Caste Temple
Selen, Dajorra System

Dlarit Special Operations troops sat with their backs against the walls, some were bandaged and bloody, others were cleaning weapons waiting for the next battle. The last fifteen minutes had been the longest in their life. The battle had escalated and gotten out of hand fairly quick. Their Viceroy had dealt with the wild beasts that the Yuuzhan Vong had brought, but the warriors stationed on the balcony had soon joined in and bum rushed Lieutenant Dorn and 2nd Squad. From there, things began to fall apart. Though they were trained in hand to hand combat, their melee weapons were no match for the Vong's.

Captain Cresh and 1st Squad did what they could do to alleviate their dilemna by assaulting their attackers from behind. The Dark Jedi were preoccupied with the voxyn and their handlers to come to the rescue. If it had not been for the quixk thinking of Cresh, the D-SOG troops would have all been slaughtered. He analyzed the situation, took into count variables and postulated practical scenarios within his mind as he had been trained. The only logical choice was to call for reinforcements. A regiment was nearby but would not make it fast enough, so he did the next best thing and called for air support. A nearby Low Altitude Assault Transport/infantry, commonly referred to by the troops as a larty, was the first on the scene and used it's three anti-personnel laser turrets to eliminate the threats.

Of course by the time they were through and the Dark Jedi had finished their mess of Vong, the troops were in sore straights. They counted five dead amongst 2nd Squad and several injured, the Dark Jedi had likewise lost their junior members and were down to the Viceroy and two others. With all of that and the recent exhaustive battle, they were now taking a small break as they waited for 2nd Regiment to arrive and support in capturing the temple. The Viceroy was in communciation with Colonel Voss back at Giletta Spaceport, apparently things were not going as well back there either.


"Colonel, we need to begin coordinating our attacks. I want you to contact Admiral SImonetti and have him handle this. Make sure the Arconans are involved as well, we need to make sure we're all working on the same page in order to accomplish our objectives." Ordered Astronicus Aurelius Sadow.

Estle City
Western Ion Battery
Selen, Dajorra System

Vallen’dere and Naiia Munlear waited with the commandos while Darth Vexatus and Macron Goura descended to the lower levels of the tower. The corridors were plastered in blood and gore, bodies sprayed out on the floor, victim to any number of the Far Outsiders’ horrific technology. Not a single Yuuzhan Vong body adorned the scene. Clearly the voxyn had done their job.

Darth Vexatus closed his eyes, allowing Macron to pace ahead. The Sith Lord focused inward, closing off the world around him and freeing his mind from his body. For a split second he felt a rush of awareness, his senses blinding him as bright lights burst into existence all around. A second later there was only silence and darkness once more.

Macron looked back, “My lord?” the alchemist asked cautiously. He was wise enough to know never to ask if the Falleen needed help. Even if he ever did, he would never admit so.

Vexatus lent on the nearby blood soaked wall as he got his breathing back under control. It was the same rush of awareness he had experienced on the Yuuzhan Vong worldship at Telos. That time in the presence of the Priestess, turned Shamed One, turned High Priestess, Eshin Shul. This time it was different. Instinctive. Primitive. Feral.

“The voxyn are up ahead,” said Vexatus. “I... sensed them.”

Inside his helmet Macron stared blankly back at the Sith Lord but shrugged and turned back. He knew no answers would be forthcoming even if he asked. Nonetheless, the alchemist was as confused as the Falleen himself. Darth Vexatus had been questioning what had happened on Telos for the past six months and still did not understand.

It had been impossible. Yet now the impossible had happened twice.

Darth Vexatus shook his head and continued after Macron. Now was not the time for quandaries.

The two Sith looked around the next corner slowly, eyeing the voxyn up ahead. The unnatural animal was chomping at one of the bodies and lapping at the blood drained on the floor. Its barbed tail happily thrashed around on the floor behind where it stood and a cold mist spread from its nostrils.

It turned.

“Now!” cried Vexatus, charging into action, Macron at his side.

The pair bolted down the corridor, reacting almost as quickly as the voxyn itself. The animal opened its jaws, belching a thick and pungent cloud of vomit, the heavy viscous liquid burning into the floor where it landed. Darth Vexatus closed on it first, drawing his lightsaber along its flank as he sprung past it. Macron brought his blade crashing down atop the creature’s shoulders, burning through the thick and hairy layers of flesh.

The voxyn cried out, leaping back. Its skin seemed to heal as it moved. Its metabolism faster than any natural creature. There was a reason the voxyn were a dying breed now their queen had been slain and no more were born. They literally burned themselves out, devoured alive by their own body.

That did not stop this voxyn springing toward Darth Vexatus, thrusting itself with the full force of all its ten legs. The Sith Lord dived, rolling out the way inches away from one of the voxyn’s foul and virus ridden claws. The voxyn crashed where the Falleen had stood, fumbling to its feet as it quickly righted itself. Age was clearly finally catching up with the bioengineered monstrosities.

“Together,” called Macron. “Now!”

The pair flew at the voxyn before it could decide which Sith to attack next. Darth Vexatus tore his blade through the creature’s throat and down its left side as Macron worked his own weapon across the creature’s right and down, severing its legs. Before its tail could rear up and attack, Vexatus whipped his blade up, sending the tail flying down the corridor as it parted from the voxyn’s body.

“Back!” barked the Falleen as the pair charged as quickly as their legs could carry them back to the staircase and up to the floor above. “Krenth! Door!”

The DAC trooper knew enough about voxyn to understand. The second the two Sith had passed the threshold the commando slammed his hand into the control panel, closing the blast door to the sublevel to allow the voxyn’s body to safely decompose and release its toxic fumes.

Vallen looked on in awe of the power unleashed by the two Sith, dreaming of the day he commanded such ability himself.

“We’re going to have to wait a few minutes for the body to dissolve itself,” explained Darth Vexatus. “Everyone be ready in ten to continue down to the fuel injector in the sublevel. It’s time we blew this thing.”

Huascar Temple
Top Floor

As Fenris finished booby trapping the hall ways of the Temple Top Floor, he heard buzzes on his comm link. Curious, he checked to see if all was well.

"Zaroth? Tritherus? We need to stay in radio contact for this to work. Tritherus, send me the Thermal Scans you just did, and Zaroth, I need you to open a line to all Journeyman in the area. We'll unite them all in this temple." said Fenris, hoping his orders would be followed without question.

"Why Journeyman? Why not Equites or Elders?" asked Zaroth. "Because, Journeyman are weak, Elder's can take care of themselves, and Equites can as well, We Journeyman are not strong enough to fight the Vong one on one. If we exploit this temple, use all it's sniper positions that it has, hidden passages, it's junk in the hallways, we can kill any Vong that decide to enter." informed Fenris.

"Tritherus, I also need you to do me another scan. On our way up here, did you come by anything that was mechanical or could explode? Anything that is stackable and or mechanical would be excellent...I have a plan." said Fenris.

"Yikes..." said Tritherus and Zaroth.

Marakith Skyhook
Aeotheran

Colonel Grenis jumped in startlement out of her lovely dream she was having when the fire alarm sounded. The klaxons blared their annoying redundant song and Minoa had to beat her pillow to keep from losing control of herself in annoyance. She set up and rubbed the sleep from her eyes as they focused in the half light of her dimmed room. She tapped at her bedside table console in an attempt to see what was going on. As her eyes finally zeroed in she saw a red flashing light on the lower levels near the storage and loading areas. She keyed for the exact location but just as soon as she did she heard and felt a low rumble in the room around her. She looked up startled and furrowed her brow before looking back down to a screen that reflected even more red flashing areas.

Ten seconds later her comlink was buzzing.

"Colonel Grenis! Colonel Grenis!! Ma'am there has been an explosion in sublevels 24-26. It's spreading rapidly!" came a strained voice of what must have been the deck officer for that area.

Grenis picked up the comlink. "Divert personell from sublevels 18-23 and get the demo droids down there NOW!"

Grumbling to herself she quickly dressed and was out her door to command and control central in record time. On her way she felt another rumble in the walls and flooring. As she entered the command, people were running around from console to console in a frenzy.

"Report!"

A Junior officer piped up." Colonel. We have a fire that appears to be plasma based and is spreading. Very little structural damage but it's frying equipment and destroying stores. Demolition droids are already down there and fire fighting teams have already mobilized and are fighting the flames. But just as we get a section out another one seems to pop up."

Grenis nodded. "Keep on it! I want armed security on all levels! I want total lock down!"

"Yes ma'am!" came the reply of her security officer.

Grenis's comlink buzzed again and she picked it up. " Colonel Grenis."
"Colonel Minoa Grenis! I demand to know what is going on!" The annoyed voice of Cantis Jeng.
"Legate Jeng. There is a small situation but it is nothing to be alarmed about I assure you." The Colonel replied.
"I find your explanation rather evasive Colonel." Jeng shot back
"Legate please! We are trying to handle this as quickly as possible!" Minoa explained with a touch of annoyance all her own.
"Colonel I will have your career for breakfast if you put me in any danger! The information I have is absolutely VITAL to our business!"
Grenis annoyed simple killed the connection. Just as she did so the tactical display of the station lit up on the south landing platforms, forty levels up from the storage fire. What the hell is going on?
Just as suddenly another section lit up and then another. So many areas now on alert flashed on the tactical display that she didn't even notice the security breech in the inner sanctum.



Marakith Skyhook
Inner Sanctum
Zaxen moved cautiously through the corridors of the House Ludo Kressh stronghold. The lighting was almost non existent due to the House members being away on the Dajorra campaign. His right hand gripped the Medusa sword in his preferred reverse handed grip and his data pad in the left as he made his way through the twisting corridors. As he rounded a corner a sentry droid turned to face him and opened fire with its arm blasters.

Zaxen spun to his left the crouched and rolled to his right the sprung to his feet rushing forward. As the droid recalculated and altered its aim to compensate for Zaxen's maneuver, Zaxen stepped up on to the wall stepped again and ran along the side. As the droid tracked him he flipped to the side and was on the floor again. Before the droid could track him Zaxen had brought the Medusa around in a deadly, singing arc which cleaved the droids head off.

Without another pause Zaxen was on the move again and rounded another corner and there he stood in front of the nursery doors. He shoved Medusa into the small crevice where the doors met and forced them apart.

Soft soothing light flowed out and met Zaxen's eyes. Several nursing droids where going about their quite business making sure their young charge's needs were met. He scanned the room and found the small crib and the pair of deep purple serpent eyes and a full head of white hair which belonged to Aragan who was just learning to stand it seemed. Zaxen could not help himself but to stop and admire the child's innocence as he smiled up at him. As he made his way towards the crib the nursing droids seemed to take notice and moved to intercept him. Before Zaxen could protest, the built in security measures of each droids sprang to life. Arms became razor claws and stun prods.

Zaxen was nearly caught off guard and barely escaped the droid claw aimed for his neck. His anger flashed and the Medusa became a flash of destructive power as it found its mark time and again. As the last hunk of medal and foam padding fell. Aragan squealed in delight clearly amused at Zaxen's display. Smirking he went over to the child and picked him up. "Allright little one. Lets go see your mom."


Marakith Skyhook
Command Center

Colonel Grenis was close to pulling the hair from her head just as the last fire was coming under control. Suddendly her security officer shouted over to her. "Colonel there has been a breach in the inner sanctum! The Atema nursery!"

Her eyes went wide as shock and fear almost made her lose control of her bodily functions. Her comlink was buzzing and had been for the past hour but she continued to ignore it as she rushed to the nearest terminal to see for herself that the doors of both the inner sanctum and the Atema nursery were indeed forced open. "Get me a security detail NOW!"

Five minutes later she stood at the forced door of the Atema nursery. It stood empty with its nursing droids nothing but a pile of rubble. It was at this time Colonel Grenis finally reached down and grabbed her comlink "WHAT!?"

"Colonel Minoa Grenis! I demand to know what is going on!" Legate Jeng's voice boomed.
Just as the Colonel began to give her retort...
"I find your explanation rather evasive Colonel."
She stared at the comlink in her open palm dumbfounded.
"Colonel I will have your career for breakfast if you put me in any danger! The information I have is absolutely VITAL to our business!"
Her bowels turned to water and her knees nearly gave way and would have if her anger had not kicked in.

"To the diplomatic wing!" she screamed.

Five minutes later she stood in the empty room of Legate Jeng. She quickly found the comlink and a recording device on a looped message. "I want Legate Jeng found at this very instant. I want security back on all floors. Double security at the landing platform and I want the freighter Jeralyn impounded." Just as her subordinates were rushing to fulfill their orders the power went out.

"Damnit!!" the normally cool and collective Colonel Grenis screamed.



Freighter Jeralyn
Vardor Orbit
Two Days Later

"Urd Nathen Tower. This is Jedi Hunter Zaxen Dauketrenal on behalf of His Grace Baron Ashura Isradia on approach. request instructions for landing."

Zaxen broke orbit and and admired the beautiful Planetscape of the Inperion Capital.

"Welcome Hunter Dauketrenal. You have been expected. Please slave controls to us and we will guide you in."

An hour later Zaxen with Aragan in his arms stood before a small collective of Isradia family servants who led them to their quarters. As they were made comfortable one of the servants approached.

"Hunter Dauketrenal. A message has been left here for you by the Zolarch." The whispy voice came from under the hooded servant.

"Thank you." Zaxen nodded.

Zaxen opened the letter and read it.

Zaxen,

If you have made it here, well done. You have your mistress's thanks as well as mine for your efforts. They will not be forgotten. But your duties are not over I am afraid. We will need every able fighter here in Dajorra. We were already short manned as it was. I have requested you be given a fighter and any supplies you might require. Get to Dajorra and make contact with me, your ship will have a direct comlink with me. I suggest you enter the system from behind the star in relation to the planet to avoid detection as much as possible. If you arrive in system to find that we are overrun, collect what people you can and get back to Alabrek Castle and wait. If you receive no word in a week's time, take charge and fortify the castle until the Clan or the Brotherhood can get in touch.

In Darkness,

Ashura Isradia

The next morning Zaxen was already breaking orbit and set his course for Dajorra.

Clan Arcona Citadel
Selen, Dajorra System

The path that Tsainetomo had taken to the ziggurat was relatively easy, albeit meandering. After all, since he had commandeered a shuttle from the Reaper’s Call, it was no large task to land near the outskirts of the stronghold. However, he did have to skirt the pockets of conflict involving the Vong and the native Selenians that scattered the landscape around the Citadel.

The Krath Priest noted that the invaders had not launched a full scale siege upon the structure; he laughed inwardly at the thought that ‘invaders’ could mean either Vong or Naga Sadowans, depending on how the winds blew. In any case he’d have to work quickly to complete his mission; the aforementioned siege would probably begin any minute now.

Striding closer, he sent out a pulse of Dark Side energy towards the Citadel, an equivalent of ringing a bell. Tsainetomo looked furtively around for any approaching Selenian or Vong; he’d taken great pains to operate without detection, hence his going directly to the Citadel instead of joining the main expeditionary force, and it would not do to be discovered so close to the end of his task. The Priest made sure to conserve his energy by not fighting his way there; he was more than sure of the fact that he’d have to fight his way out.

He waited patiently for the better part of ten minutes and was set to go back when the access door slid open and an Arconan stood filling its frame, arms crossed expectantly.
The Soulfire Sergeant known as Malidir sized the Keibatsu up and down, as if attempting to match the physical manifestation with the tales that had drifted to his indifferent ear.

“You’re shorter than I expected.”

The Keibatsu turned and held back his retort. He was close, so close.

“Nonetheless, I’m here. Tsainetomo Keibatsu, Rollmaster of Naga Sadow, at your service.”

Malidir didn’t break his pose. “What, did you lose some of your Clanmates? Nobody but us Arconan’s here.”

“Trust me, my friend; I’m not here to take a census. I’m here to see Consul Doto.”
Tsainetomo paused for dramatic effect.

“What makes you think you can just stride in here and get an audience with his Lordship? Especially since you Sadowans seem to kill both Vong and Selenians without stopping to think who’s filling your sights.” Malidir spoke of the action taking place at a certain ion cannon emplacement on the west side of Estle City, involving a crazed Sith Alchemist and a self-styled Falleen Dark Lord.

If Tsainetomo knew of the action, he gave no hint. “I don’t know what anyone else is doing, but I do know what my true leadership and Overlord has ordered.” It wasn’t quite a lie, as Astronicus Sadow expected those that followed him to follow his example. “I’m here as an extra ‘saber arm.”

“What?!” Malidir exclaimed incredulously. “Where’s the rest of your garrison?”

Tsainetomo allowed a grin to crease his face. “I’m a bad man, my friend. If anything, I can by you a few extra minutes to get your Consul to his escape shuttle, should it come to that.” He again paused to let the possibility take seed in Malidir’s brain. “But, it shouldn’t come to that, if you let me see Mejas.”

Leaning close, Malidir whispered menacingly in the Keibatsu’s face. “What makes you think that we can’t handle anything here? Or, that we would run, for that matter?”

“Listen,” Tsainetomo began, ignoring the questions. “I can impart some Force techniques to you that will help in the fight. Arconan’s have your talents in Shadow Weaving, where we...” He raised one palm, and an invisible wall of his will gently pushed Malidir back to where he originally stood, his boot heels skidding audibly along the deck.

Understanding dawned in Malidir’s eyes. “...Sadowan’s have that whole ‘push-pull’ deal down pat!” He finished Tsainetomo’s thought.

“I was going to say ‘have experience in the physical world’, but what you said will do.” He began to make his way through the door, but Malidir still barred his way.

“You still haven’t told me what you want. Everything that you Sadowan’s are, ‘philanthropist’s’ ain’t it. Spill it.”

Tsainetomo glanced around conspiratorially, then motioned Malidir to lean in. The Prelate did so, and the Keibatsu spoke in hushed tones.

“I’m just here with a name, and I need information on that name. Mejas is probably the one with the most knowledge on said info. Again, if I can get that info, you have someone to fight for you, and you don’t have to do as much dirty work. A win-win, if you ask me.” The Priest finished hurriedly.

The proposition sounded good on the surface, but the Prelate was no one’s fool. He wanted all the terms up front. “All right, so give it.” Malidir gestured impatiently. “I’d rather not deal with it, but I can pass on a message and we’ll see if his Lordship wants to see you or whether he’d rather have me kill you and leave you on the doorstep.”

“Cyris Oscura.”

Malidir said nothing, but visibly stiffened, staring into Tsainetomo’s tripartite eyes. “Come in, but wait here.” Saying nothing else, he sprinted off, ostensibly, to bend Mejas’ ear.

Tsainetomo smiled in the darkness of the vestibule. True, Malidir neither confirmed nor denied anything, but body language spoke volumes, if one knew how to read it. Reaching inside the folds of his garment, he produced a text-only data device and quickly tapped out a message to be carried on a burst transmission. Interestingly, the device was not anything produced by the Dlarit Corporation; rather, it was Autochthonian.

Autochthonian Dragon-class Skirmisher Fallen Spear
Edge of the Maw
Bridge

The Shadow Hand sat in his Captain’s Chair, the black pools that were his eyes focused on the main viewscreen. It detailed the battle taking place on Selen, and it was partly his task to make sure that the joint venture betwixt the Clans Arcona and Naga Sadow went off without a hitch.

Partly.

Just as he began to zoom in on Estle City and the action there, his personal comm unit beeped; flipping the screen up, his lip curled in disgust at the message he’d received from his cousin, now ensconced within the Arconan Citadel:

--Audience with Mejas Doto eminent.--

--Reports of Cyris’ demise on Velrahn may have been exaggerated.--

Estle City
Western Ion Battery
Selen, Dajorra System

“Charges set,” called Krenth, keying in the activation code sequence on the final device.

Macron Goura giggled excitedly. Beside him, Naiia looked on, keeping her own thoughts to herself. Vallen, the Fosh envoy, watched discretely from where he stood near the rear of the chamber amidst the shadows. The diminutive avian had kept mostly to himself since they first landed.

“Excellent,” replied Darth Vexatus to the advanced clone commando. He edged closer, whispering so that the others would not hear. “I trust you followed my instructions to the letter?”

Even with his helmet on, the Falleen could tell the DAC trooper was smiling evilly. “I am yours to command, my lord.” It was a cryptic response, but it told the Sith Lord all he needed to know.

Darth Vexatus nodded and left the other commandos to finish the final preparations. The fuel injector was a large conduit situated at the center of the room. A steady stream of plasma arced through valves running deep into the infrastructure below the tower. The injector system channelled it into the central conduit, a large cylindrical chamber through which the energy twisted upward into the weapon systems many levels above.

From the thin walkway on which the party stood, the chasm to the underbelly of the city appeared endless, as did the distant pinprick of light at the top of the tube which seemed to stretch forever up into the darkness high above.

Krenth spun from the central conduit and gestured silently to his teams to begin pulling out. He walked calmly over to the team of Sith. “On your signal, we are ready to go. May I suggest being several light years away when this thing goes off though,” for Krenth it was the closest he came to making a joke.

Macron’s head dropped in mock disappointed. “And here I was hoping for a front row seat. I live for the boom.” Krenth grunted what amounted to a laugh from the DAC trooper.

Darth Vexatus stared impassively. “Let’s go. The sooner we secure the defence towers the better.” He lied. But the alchemist was so easily manipulated. A little offer of power was all it took. When the bomb went off, their last real line of defence would be vaporised. The Falleen silently roared with triumph as the party began making their way back to the surface. In a few minutes, nothing would be left to stand between the Yuuzhan Vong and Estle City.

Estle City
Western Perimeter

The western ion tower exploded with a thunderous boom that shook across the entire city. Light erupted into the sky, belching clouds of smoke as black as ash. The fire blazed into the night sky, lighting the city in its orange glow as pieces of shrapnel and debris went bouncing across the city’s various plazas like balls in a child’s playground. One of the larger pieces crashed through a building nearby the ion battery, smashing through like a wrecking ball as the building began to topple.

A few seconds later a second explosion lit up the night sky as the northern and southern batteries exploded simultaneously as the chain reaction shot through the fuel lines underneath the city, shattering both remaining anti-air towers. Throughout the city wall, turbolasers fell silent as their fuel supply lines from the main ion towers cut off, the steady boom-boom-boom of firing ending and casting an eery silence over Estle City as its last line of defence grinded to a halt.

The cloud of smoke rising up around the city began to eclipse the moonlight, wreathing Estle City in a deathly pallor as darkness descended on the streets surrounding Giletta Spaceport.

Estle City
Giletta Spaceport

The ground shook as a quake rocked the city and flames burst into life along the western horizon. Moments later a second quake shook the spaceport as smoke rose into the sky from both the northern and southern skylines. Darkness fell across the spaceport, casting the chaos of battle in the foul artificial light of the remaining streetlamps.

“What the hell was that?” cried Ylith Atema as he bashed an incoming Yuuzhan Vong aside and plunged his sword down through its chest.

The Valheru listened to the crackling of fire and the pounding of blaster fire. The turbolasers had stopped. “Commander!” called Ylith, summoning the nearest clone officer. “What happened to our air defences?”

The clone put a finger to his helmet to contact the fleet in orbit. A few seconds later he lowered his arm and turned his head back to the Valheru. “Final Way is as confused as you, sir. First the western battery went up then the others. With the Yuuzhan Vong already controlling the east, that’s all our air defences down.”

Ylith cursed.

“Orders, sir?”

“We fight on!” roared Ylith. “Until the last Vong lies dead!”

Estle City
Outside the ruins of the western ion battery

Were it not for the Force the Sith would have choked to death. Keeping a bubble of air drawn around themselves, Darth Vexatus, Vallen and Naiia followed the teams of commandos who were being led by Macron Goura in his battle suit.

Everything had worked according to plan. The city was now defenceless. Even from space the Yuuzhan Vong would have needed to be blind not to have seen the explosion. The invasion could begin in earnest. Two mynocks with one stone, thought the Sith Lord. Darth Maestus spoke true. It was far easier to let one’s enemies destroy each other. Darth Vexatus laughed silently at the thought. No doubt Jedgar Paladin thought the same about the Falleen and his Master.

“If I may ask, my lord,” coughed Vallen through the smoke as they followed closely behind Krenth. “I struggle to understand how exactly this has helped secure the city.”

Vexatus glanced across at Vallen. The Fosh had phrased the question clearly. He had not questioned whether it would help them, only whether it would help the mission. Perhaps there was more to this envoy that met the eye. “Consider who your enemy is.”

Vallen didn’t need time to answer, “The Yuuzhan Vong.”

Not the perfect answer but understandable. “And where are they currently?”

“In the eastern quadrant...” When the Sith Lord didn’t answer, Vallen elaborated, “...and their fleets are pursuing the Arconan Expeditionary Force through the Maw.”

“Exactly.” Darth Vexatus paused in his step to look at the Fosh. “What have our actions here done?”

Vallen looked around, not that he could make anything out through the smoke. He shrugged, uncertain, but to his credit he still mustered a response, “Made the city defenceless.”

“Which will draw the Yuuzhan Vong to us...” explained the Falleen, not finishing the sentence.

“...where they can be destroyed more easily,” finished Vallen.

The Fosh contemplated the Sith Lord’s words as they continued back toward Giletta Spaceport. He was certain there was still more the Fallen was not telling him, Fosh was experts for reading other species. But it would suffice for now. Vallen believed Darth Vexatus at his word. Their actions would lure the Yuuzhan Vong to them. Now they just needed to survive it.

Dajorra System; Planet Selen
Estle city; Giletta Spaceport

The Valheru pushed on, cursing under his breath as more and more Vong poured onto
his position, it wouldnt be long untill they would be overrun. Ylith moved to the back of
the defensive line, grabbing a flask of water and taking large gulps of the liquid. It
tasted sandy and warm, but he couldnt care less, for now it was the only luxury he could
afford himself.

Suddenly a Trooper ran towards him, with a large communicator unit strapped to his back.
He kneeled before the Quaestor and opened a commlink, a small holographic image of
Ashia appearing on the troopers bracelet.

"Governor Atema, you are to abandon your position and move to the Headquarters
stationed within the city. The Overlord demands it." She said, emotionless and cold.

"I can not just abandon this position, it will allow the Vong to capture the most important
part of the city and overwhelm us alltogether. I wont back down now!" The Battlemaster
said in defiance and rage. Offended by the sudden order.

"Then you leave me no choice, you are hereby stripped of your rank and status, you are
no longer Governor nor do you have any commanding authorities within the Dlarit Forces.
The Overlords wishes are final, I will transmit the orders to the commanders." Ashia's lips
curled with slight delight as she cut the connection and the Valheru was left cursing underneath
his breath.

The Trooper moved away from the shamed Sith, who sat down and took another sip of water.
Many thoughts roamed his mind, anger, regret, all emotion rushing through his mind. Even
though this setback brough him back to being nothing more then just a member, he could
not deny the plans already set in motion.

The Scorpion must be unleashed.

Huascar Temple
Top Floor

"Fenris, Vong are in the Area...just a little warning." chirped Vorion, who strangely knew that there was no Vong in the immediate area. Something Fenris wanted to know is how he knew.

"Thank you old friend. Any idea on how much?" asked Fenris, not sure if 3 Journeyman could hold down this position long enough for back up. He waited for a response, but none came. He hated it when no one responded.

"Alright guys, listen up. Vong are on their way. The halls are rigged with traps and explosives. Zaroth, I need you to tell all Journeyman in the Area to get to Huascar Temple. Tritherus, I need you to start getting the Scrap Droids programmed and ready. This will possibly be our last fight. Let's make it a good one." said Fenris, who truly loved Combat, despite his Krath origins.

"Fenris, I need you to make sure that Huascar stays in our hands...I've sent some troops that we could spare to your position, they aren't much, but they'll help defend. We've told them to answer to you and you only. Good Luck." said Vorion.

"Good...Alright, Zaroth, Tritherus, Our chances just got better...but not by much. I'm going to be focusing on defending this place using a method I've been practicing. We'll have snipers all over the place, and troops in the hallways. We'll set the traps off only after they've died. Let's show the Vong once again what it means to be an Infidel." joked Fenris, who was now concentrating on lifting all the weapons in the room with his mind and placing them in the halls, if only to intimidate the Vong.

When the troops finally arrived, Fenris wasted no time on telling them where to go. The place became a Citadel that Fenris would not let go of so easily.

"We're in position...what now sir?" said a Dlarit Trooper. "All of you that have Stealth Field Generators, activate them now...everyone else...don't call me sir. Don't let any Vong into the Temple. Conserve your ammo, we won't be receiving any backup anytime soon, if ever." said Fenris, who was worried about losing the temple. The Temple was a place that Fenris found necessary for Air Support. If he needed help, he had hoped he could rely on Sapphire Squadron to come down a sweep through for Air Support.

"Zaroth, open a Comm Link with Bob as soon as possible." demanded Fenris.

Space
Dajorra System, above the planet Selen

The Arconan fleet dropped from hyperspace above the planet of Selen and on the bridge of the flagship the various crew were working furiously at their tasks, getting the weapons readied and the sensors scanning for the situation in the skies of the Dajorra System.

“What’s the situation in space?”

Sashar waited for several seconds before the sensor officer had compiled his findings and presented them to his commanding officer.

“We have no Vong ships in range, the Naga Sadow fleet is in orbit and we have reports of heavy ground fighting happening on the main planets of the system. Orders?”

The Proconsul paused for a second before speaking his orders so that the entire bridge could hear him.

“Get us a frequency for the Final Way and open a channel, i want to speak to Ashia.”

Several more seconds ticked by before the hologram of Ashia rose up in front of Sashar where he stood on the bridge.

“Greetings Ashia, I wanted to thank you for the assistance you and your Clan members have provided to us. We won’t forget who helped us in our time of need. I was just sending a quick message to inform you that I will be heading down to Estle and will be leaving Rho d’Tana in command of the Arconan Fleet, so he is the man you need if the Vong come back.”

Ashia inclined her head before replying to the Arconan leader.

“Understood Sashar, and good luck.”

“You too, Abyss out.”

The hologram faded and Sashar turned to face the two men who had been stood behind him during the brief interlude.

“You heard that, Rho has command of the fleet. Zandro, you’re coming with me down to Estle to meet with these Caste leaders.”

Both of his Quaestors nodded in understanding and Zandro followed Sashar from the bridge as Rho moved forward to assume command of the vessel. As the two half-brothers left the bridge and headed towards Sashar felt the barely constrained anger in Zandro and decided to get whatever the other man was feeling out into the open.

“Speak your mind Zandro, why are you so angry recently?”

His brother was quiet for a moment and suddenly stopped walked, obviously contemplating what to say and how to say it.

“I hate being abandoned, and that’s what you did. You had your brothers by your side, and you chose Mejas over us. You chose power over all of us. Do you know how that feels?”

Zandro’s voice had been steadily rising and Sashar was preparing for the worst, his mind checking that his lightsaber was close at hand if worst came to worst.

“No, I don’t. But I do know this, you need to realise that sometimes there are more things going on than you know. You don’t have all the facts on this one Zandro, let it go.”

Sashar began walking again and sensed his brother hesitate for a second before following him to the ship that would take them down to the planet. Zandro had pushed it from his immediate thoughts, but Sashar knew that it wasn’t over yet, and he hoped it would hold out until after the resolution of the current conflict.

=====-----*-----=====

Dajorra System
Selen, Estle city

Sashar, Zandro and a group of marines had exited the shuttle that had brought them down to the planet and were now heading to the meeting that had been hastily organised with the Caste leaders. Having arrived without incident, they were preparing themselves for the meeting that was to come, all of them prepared to do their individual parts as and when needed. Zandro and Sashar were at the fore of the group, both lost in thought yet both almost opposites in their emotional state. Zandro felt to the Force like a roiling mass of anger whereas Sashar was a paragon of calm and controlled emotions.

“I don’t know how this meeting will be taken by the Caste leaders, so just be ready people, I don’t want any surprises. If anyone gives us trouble, we show them why we are the ones who really wield the power around here.”

The group headed into the allocated building, ready to begin the meeting.

--------------------------------------

OOC: Sashar has messed up his thumb and so couldn’t post, so this is a post put here in place of him doing one. Enjoy, and let’s keep it going!

Estle City
Outside Giletta Spaceport
Selen, Dajorra System

The spaceport was in chaos when Darth Vexatus and his companions arrived. Krenth quickly proceeded to silently issue orders to the other commando teams, proceeding cautiously as they neared the front lines of the battle zone.

From where they had approached, the city opened wide into the outdoor landing field of the central spaceport. The main tower at the center of the spaceport was burning and squads of Yuuzhan Vong could be seen fighting a mix of Dlarit and Selen troopers nearby.

The resistance forces had dug in, forming a ring of defence around the landing field. In the two and a half days since the Yuuzhan Vong first landed, droids had already built trenches. Tanks and walkers now loomed over the infantry lines, firing out into the east quadrant of the city, where the approaching hordes of Yuuzhan Vong continued to pour forth.

With the air defences down, the two new destroyers which had made their way into orbit to engage the Final Way and the Covenant along with the reinforced Arconan fleet had begun sending troop vessels down to the surface and more and more aliens were amassing against the resistance lines.

“Orders, my lord?” asked Krenth, looking out at the battlefield. Their approach from the west would be relatively quiet since most of the Yuuzhan Vong were coming from the east, but artillery fire and the Yuuzhan Vong equivalent of mortars continued to rain down on the open expanse. If they were to reach the spaceport, it would need to be fast.

Darth Vexatus glanced across at where Macron Goura and his apprentice stood, both staring out at the carnage. The Fosh, Vallen’dere, lurked somewhere nearby in the shadows, though the strange little alien was doing a good job of keeping his Force presence tucked away. Observing, no doubt, as seemed to be in the envoy’s nature.

“I wish to commandeer one of the transports,” answered the Falleen finally, locking his sight on one of the Sentinel-class landing barges being used to help evacuate the surviving civilians. There was a steady convoy of small speeders moving to and from the spaceport, troops helping bring back the survivors of the initial incursion to help evacuate people safely.

“The resistance forces may fire on us, my lord,” said Krenth matter-of-factly.

It was understandable given the circumstances. All military units had moved to the spaceport to help evacuate the city. An unmarked platoon emerging from the shadows was sure to draw the wrong kind of attention. Even if they were wearing Dlarit uniforms, the locals were likely to be jumpy and Vexatus’s troops were wearing black not the normal grey of the Dlarit Army.

Krenth continued, “I suggest we take the sewers.”

Passing through the waste system like some kind of vermin was far from the glamorous life most strove for. Compared to the Embrace of Pain, it would be a vacation. “Find us an entrance, Captain,” said Darth Vexatus in agreement.

Krenth went off to instruct the commandos to unblock one of the sewer covers.

Near Estle City
Selen

Malisane studied the city through the image enhancers. "Looks busy."
"Vong or our people?" Imgormiel asked.
"Ours," Malisane replied, "well them and the Arconan's"
"What do we do next?" the Knight asked.
Malisane hmmed. "We break up. I have a plan. There's no sense in getting mixed up in a fight if the Vong turn up. We'll have the ewoks form groups of ten and hide out in the countryside until the time comes, well spread out. If the Vong do encounter them hopefully they won't think they're sentient or useful. The ewoks are experts in this terrain though that won't happen.
"Then what?"
"They hide out," Malisane replied confidently, "and wait for the Arconans to leave. The Vong don't view what we'd consider as valuables as anything worth having, especially not tech. The Arconan's are in a hurry they're bound to leave something worth having. What they miss we can aquire. We don't need the fleet to leave. Send the signal to the Argnok."
"If the ewoks are hiding out what are we doing?" the Zabrak asked.
"We may as well go to the city, for a look around. Just don't get talking to anyone in a robe or a Dlarit uniform."

A few seconds later the Argnok's computer begun to flash, and there was a rumble as the engines powered up. The craft rose, and powered up through the sky and past the atmosphere. The computer begun to flash as it scanned nearby space, until it found a suitable asteroid belt with metal ore traces and navigated the ship towards it. A few seconds later drifiting amongst the rocks the ship powered it's systems down, until it was just another floating lump in space, save for one flashing light on the computer.

Huascar Temple
Top Floor

"Fenris, Vong are approaching...your orders?" asked a Dlarit Sniper that had been transferred to what small command Fenris had over them.

"Don't shoot yet...I wish to see my plan work out..." said Fenris who had weapons thrown on the ground by the dozens, to create one large pile of weaponry. "Are you sure? This seems like such a tactical error...we have the Vong and they don't know where we are.." reported the Dlarit Soldier.

"I realize this...but why give away our position if they are not interested in the building? Only attack when provoked. We have hardly been provoked yet." said Fenris, realizing that his words may be taken wrongly by the Dlarit Soldiers.

As all this was going on, the Vong poured into the small area that Fenris had put the pile of blasters in. They seemed confused and weren't sure why Infidel technology would be strewn about like it had been.

"Zaroth...now." was all Fenris said into his comm link. As soon as the words were spoken, a squad of Droids retrofitted to hold and fire a blaster came pouring into the area, shooting at the Vong as fast and as accurate as they could. Vong didn't die as much as the Droids did, but a few were taken down.

"Tritherus...go." spoke Fenris, indicating to take the correct actions to execute Fenris's plan. Tritherus began pressing a multitude of buttons, and one after the other caused explosives to go off. The Vong became afraid and were dying now.

"My turn..." said Fenris, concentrating on the pile in the center. It took a few minutes, but the guns rose in the air, and began to fire. Fenris could only do a few at a time, and once the powercell was gone, Fenris could not attack with that blaster any more. The once large squad of Vong was now down to a few remaining Vong, Fenris's plan worked like a charm. "Now you may fire when ready Soldiers." spoke Fenris, who could not help but smile.

"Fenris, you can now reach Bob if you need too." said Zaroth. The Journeyman were victorious in holding down the fort from a small attack, they had hoped the various tricks up their sleeves would work again soon.

"Bob, I have medical supplies and food rations up here...anyway you can airlift them out so we can distribute them to the other troops and Dark Jedi?" asked Fenris.

Estle City, Selen
Dajorra System

Thud bugs, Razor bugs, and Blast bugs impacted all around the pinned troops. While enroute back to Giletta Spaceport the platoon had come under fire by the Yuuzhan Vong's projectile biots and had taken cover with limited availability of returning fire. The wounded had been evacuated via the larty that had come to the rescue earlier at Sinchi Caste Temple, now the surviving members were being assaulted by a wandering element of Vong warriors.

Astronicus and the two equite Dark Jedi that accompanied him were growing impatient at the stand still shoot out. The Vong would throw some blast bugs, which would impact and explode on the permacrete walls that were remaining which served as cover for his troops. In turn, his troops would lay down a volley of blaster fire, picking off a Vong here and there. It was monotonous and Astronicus was losing his patience. He did not even notice that Force Lightning was streaking from his left hand and striking the ground below, leaving electrical burns here and there.

"Lord Sadow, we have to go now!" Demand one of the equites, a young Obelisk Templar new to the Clan. "THis waiting is maddening. If we do not go now then I see no point in protecting the Arconans!"

"We will go when I say we go! No sooner!" Ordered the Clan's founder, raising his left hand in gesture, not noticing the Force Lightning eminating from his fingertips until the bolts had grabbed hold of the Templar and thrown him to the ground. His body fell to the ground withering. He would live, but be pained and unconscious for awhile. Astronicus reigned in his anger, cursing at his detatchment at the situation which allowed him to lose control of his power and not notice it. He noticed the fear in the eyes of the other equite, a Krath Priestess who had served in his service for sometime. He decided to turn his mishap into a lesson. "Your defiance will only result in punishment, youngling."

Captain Cresh and the troops continued to lay down suppresive fire, holding the Vong at bay. Any moment now and Lieutenant Dorn would accomplish his task and be in position to distract the Vong. Astronicus had sent him to go through a small tunnel filled with rubble to sneak behind the enemy and lay charges that would when keyed make them believe there was an assault happening from both ends. When that occured, Cresh and his troops, along with Astronicus would launch a full frontal assault hoping to catch them off guard.

Moments passed, then a double click across the squad comm channel indicated that Dorn was in place and ready for act two of this play. Astronicus sent back a confirmation series of clicks. Several explosions followed, throwing rubble and shrapnel upon the Vong warriors. Those on the front line held their gazes on the troops last known positions while a number of others turned to return fire on whomever was attacking from behind. Dorn opened up with his T-28 repeating sniper rifle, taking down two Vong to help add to the impression that they were fighting a battle on two fronts. The smoke from the explosions added to the support that there was an unknown amount of enemies attacking.

Not wanting to waste any of Dorn's time before the smoke dissipated and revealed the truth, Astronicus leapt forward assisted by the force and landed next to a Vong warrior. Cresh and his troops likewise advanced, blasters blazing and yelling war cries over their p.a. systems. The Krath Priestess stood by her fellow, the withering Obelisk Templar, but upon deciding she did not wish to share a similar fate she too joined the battle.

Astronicus, both sabers ignited, began assaulting the closest Yuuzhan Vong, flailing at him and relentlessly pushing him up against a wall. The warrior continued to block, but knew he was being cornered and soon had to pull out his coufee as a close quarters weapon, replacing his amphistaff as it wrapped around his arm. His attention to blocking Astronicus' blows kept him busy, too busy to notice that the Dark Jedi Master had used the Force to move some rubble right behind his foot. That rubble was being held up by Astroniucs' control of the force, he released the stone and the warrior lost his footing falling backwards. He began to recover, but was too late as the twin white blades came crashing down on him. The blade in Astronicus's left hand held the coufee at down, pressed against the warrior's chest, while the blade in his right hand stabbed forward straight at his unshielded face. The blade sank in, the warrior let out a scream of delight at the pain he was experiencing, but soon dwindled down to a shriek of air escaping as his body went limp.

The Lord of Sadow smiled in delight at the extinguishing of a life that had earned an honorable death in battle. His personal gloating unfortunately was enough of a distraction to allow another nearby warrior, who had just finished running through a Dlarit trooper, to strike him across the back with his amphistaff. The pain coursed throughout Astronicus as the blade bashed his armor and caused the armor to jab into his back. Spinning on his heels he swiped his sabers, one low and one high. The warrior was wise to this and had leapt backwards avoinding the burning tips by centimeters.

As Astronicus rose to take a new attack form the warrior lunged, his amphistaff opening it's mouth wide and clamping down on the Master's bicep. Venom spread into his blood as the feigns released their toxin. He was in the heat of battle and had no time to enter a meditation to detoxify his body, he would only have moments left before he collapsed. He had to act fast to subtract this warrior from the list of nearby enemies before that happened, otherwise he would more than likely be the one subtracted. His vision began to grow blurry, but his anger and determination fueled him. And fuel he needed, so he drew upon the dark side of the force as well, giving him the strength to continue. Lashing out he struck one saber after the other at him.

The warrior laughed and mocked him in it's native tongue knowing he would not be able to keep this up. But Astronicus continued, not letting the scum have the satisfaction of living to see him fall. He had a destiny in this life and would see it to it's completion. He began to jump, kick and slash. The warrior began to lose his smile slightly, he was being overwhelmed as the fury of the Sith was poured out on him. The Vong knew how predecessor had fallen victim to the Sith's trick with the ground. He continuously kept an eye on his feet's surroundings. That of course was a msitake, for Astronicus never used the same trick twice. His time was nigh and power, though fueled by the dark side, was waning. His continued assault would not last, so he pulled back - not completely but some - and focused on the ceiling above.

Four dangling pieces of triangular shaped permacrete rubble were the closest choice of weapon. He pulled with all his might and the pieces came hurtling towards him, fortunately impaling the warrior - crushing him into the ground below and avoiding the Dark Jedi Master. His work done, he collapsed, his body shutting down he entered the healing trance. His troops continued fighting all around him, the Krath Priestess the only one to notice he had ceased fighting. Angered at the Overlord's fall, she intensified his attacks pouring all her rage into her strikes, one after another.

The battle lasted another ten minutes, at the end only six Dlarit troops, Cresh, Dorn and the Krath Priestess. Not one of them was unscathed or without bandage. They all had battle scars, physical and mental, none would forget what had happened this day nor allow it to be. Those who had fallen would be remembered for their bravery and loyalty to their Overlord. The Priestess knew he was in a comatose state presently while he healed, but knew his chances of survival were not the best since he had given so much energy to his final battle. Placing a hand on his chest she began to give of her own, adding it to what little remained of her master's so that he might live once again.

RSD Final Way
In orbit above Selen
Dajorra System

"Sir, I think you better take a look at this." Requested the sensor officer to Admiral Araic Simonetti. The admiral began over to the sensor displays, followed by the officer. "Long range scans picked up more Yuuzhan Vong ships, these two destroyers are just the beginning."

"You expected anything less, lieutenant?" Asked Simonetti, turning to his aide he began to relay instructions, "Inform Captain Rineval to bring the Covenant about ninety degrees and target our destroyer. The Heretic Sun, Turmoil and Despot will take up where they left off with the other destroyer."

"And what are our orders, Admiral?" Asked Captain Arlath, his executive officer.

"We will be joining with the Arconan fleet for the larger battle, Captain." Replied Simonetti, "The bantha fodder is about to hit the repulsor."

Estle City, Selen
Dajorra System

Unencumbered by wounded or heavy equipment the two Dark Jedi had moved quickly and quietly through the streets, avoiding both fleeing civilians and troups along the way. Now they crouched on a rooftop, the shuttle port in view
"You sure this is a good idea?" Imgormiel asked.
"We're quite safe," Malisane replied.
Imgormiel looked around that the burning streets, bodies, and panicking civilians. "This is safe?"
"Yes."
The Knight sighed. "There could be Vong nearby," he replied.
"There are," Malisane replied, "seven, heavily armed."
"You can sense them?" Imgormiel asked in suprise.
"Yes."
"How?"
"My sense of sight," Malisane replied, "two streets over."
"Ah," Imgormiel replied sounding faintly disapointed at this prosaic relevation. Following Malisane's view he could make out a small group of Yuuzhan Vong moving confidently and quietly along a street. "What do we do?"
"We do nothing," Malisane replied, "we're here for a look around and I don't fancy tackling seven of them with the two of us."

Imgormiel nodded, raising up slightly, ignoring the hissed instruction from Malisane to keep out of sight. "They're heading for a crossroads," he reported.
"Fascinating." his master responded.
"Actually yes," Imgormiel replied, "at the crossroads there appears to be a load of dead vong and Dlarit troopers, and some surviviors."
"Whose?" Malisane asked curiously.
"Ours, clustered around someone on the ground."
Malisane pushed himself up to look, using the force to intensify his view on the small party of humans. The crossroads was rougly at a right angle to them and the vong. His eyes widened, and he quickly dropped back down. "Interesting."
"What is?" Imgormiel asked, his vision not as acute.
"The man on the floor is Astronicus," he replied simply.
"Ast..., Lord Sadow?" Imgormiel gasped straining to look.
"Yes, " Malisane replied, "close to death by the look of it."
"We have to help," Imgormiel said quickly. "those warriors are heading for them!"
"There's too many," Malisane replied.
"We have to try," the Knight said, "come on!" Before Malisane could stop him he dropped over the edge of the roof breaking into a run as soon as he hit the ground.
Malisane considered this turn of events. Imgormiel was talented but ultimatley dispensible. On the other hand if he somehow did survive his account of events might cause problems for the Battlelord, especially with the apparent gradual shift of power from Trevarus and Vexatus to Astronicus and the Keibatsu. Any perceived betrayal wouldn't look good, even if Malisane didn't have any interest in the politics. He sighed and followed Imgormiel, sprinting through the streets towards the crossroad, his force strength pushing him as he caught the Zabrak Knight up as they reached the survivors.

Sewer Access Tunnels
Estle City, Selen
Dajorra System

“An appropriate place,” cackled Macron as he walked by a grenade-torn Vong body that had slipped down into the storm sewers. “Filth like them deserve to be here with their own kind.”

Vexatus nodded. “Indeed. Perhaps they will rot and do something good for the atmosphere in the place. Krenth, do you have anything to report?”

The DAC clone touched his impassive helmet, triggering the internal comlink. A few seconds passed, and then he spoke. “Yes my lord. There seems to be a bit of fighting up above, and I am told our forward scouts report seeing lightsabers.”

“That could be nothing,” scowled Naiia. “They could be Arconans.” Macron nodded in agreement as Vallen peered ahead inquisitively.

“No. Astronicus lies above us, and he is sorely wounded. Other Dark Jedi are moving into the area, but not many of them,” spat the Sith Lord as he closed his eyes in meditation. “Malisane and Imgormiel. Undoubtedly they face Vong, for who else could lay him so low?” asked the Sith. “No one but me. An opportunity perhaps…” His sinister thoughts reflected his vile will as they coiled about in his serpentine mind.

“Do we assist?” asked the alchemist as he fingered his saber hilt. No amount of spilled blood could satiate the death-hungry Sith. He found solace in slaughter, for when he focused on ruin his mind ceased chattering for a short while. The killing brought him in touch with the ecstasy that was the Dark Side.

“Yes. Move ahead Krenth and set up a flanking maneuver. Macron, Vallen, Naiia, come with me. There is a service access ahead that should do nicely. We’ll come out right under them. Vallen, continue your stealth work.”

“But the Yuuzhan Vong do not sense the Force, my Lord?” asked the Fosh. “That is, unless you wish to hide from the others as well…”

Both Macron and Lord Vexatus chuckled darkly by way of response as they collected their energies. Both furrowed their brows, grunting with the effort of what they were about to attempt. Vexatus bared his teeth in a wicked grin.

“I see,” replied Vallen with a flush of green feathers.

The Force wrapped around the Sith Lord and the Warlord, lifting them on silent wings as they utilized it to achieve limited flight. Invisible tendrils of telekinetic energy encircled Naiia and Vallen, lifting them along. Mastery of telekinesis was a secret that Sadowites knew very well.

The group settled down gently onto a ledge some meters above the main tunnels. A circular door faced them, undoubtedly sealed shut during the invasion. “Going up,” laughed Macron as he ignited his lightsaber. “First stop: lingerie, groceries, and bloody combat…hahahaha!” He plunged it into the door and began to cut as the rest readied themselves. A vicious blast of Force energy from the Falleen blew out the remainder of the door, opening into a scene of war.

Huascar Temple
Atrium, Ground Floor
Estle City, Selen

Blood bubbled up thick in Vorion's mouth, warm and metallic-tasting, his breath coming in harsh, wheezing barks as he rolled and tried again in vain to stand. His left leg, trembling and lacerated along it's length where the senlak had snared him in it's death-bind, dripped blood darkly to the cold marble floor from around the ragged shreds of leather and the rough plating of the vonduun-crab armor.

Risking a glance over his shoulder, the Krath spotted his Commander and her apprentice still engaged in a fierce duel with a pair of Vong warriors. Morrigan and Keia had gone, had split to clear the other side of the floor, and had yet to return...which meant that he was alone in dealing with this particular nightmarish invader. He wheeled low, hugging the floor as he bought his crimson saber arcing in a tight, savage swipe at the priest's legs.

The priest easily avoided the sharp swing, returning the aggression with a solid blow from his tsaisi that thunked solidly on Vorion's armored side, denting the crab plating and splintering a rib as the young man went sprawling.

A new supernova of pain blossomed as he drew on the latent energies around to mute his discomfort, tsaisi venom splashing dark and viscous against his visored eyes. The force of the priest's follow-up strike drove him again to the floor, barely able to even divert the attack from his vulnerable neck. His senses blared, mental klaxons ringing and warning of more imminent and direct danger than even his Yuuzhan Vong assailant. As the dark shape hurtled towards the Vong's exposed back with preterhuman speed, Vorion threw himself to the right, as the newcomer's crimson saber hissed to life, cleaving the priest's flesh and snuffing his life from the material world, the lightsaber blade scarcely inches from the Ubese's head.

Vorion, despite the physical agony the movement caused him, drew himself up into a kneeling position as the Vong fell dead, and genuflected deeply. "Holiness." His Patriarch had saved his hide, and no doubt the Sith had an excruciating lesson in store. He dared not look his Quaestor in the face.

Ashura Isradia stood menacing over the broken form of the Ubese darksider with gaze averted, sneering faintly, contemptously. His intense blue eyes raked over Vorion, before glancing briefly up at Jade and Teu as they limped in his direction, the stench of seared flesh permeating the atrium.

"Allow me to help you up," Ashura hissed callously, grabbing the Ubese by the neck and hoisting him to eye level, clenching his throat in a vise grip that made blood dribble from beneath the mask before dropping Vorion once more in a heap. Jade rushed to the fallen Krath's side, shooting a venomous glare at Ashura before bending to aid her wingmate.

Ashura snorted dismissively, eyes darting around the atrium. "Tend to your weak one, Jade. Engineers should not be on the field of battle - had it not been for my timely arrival, he would no doubt be dead. I sense strife ahead, and I will go and see to Morrigan and Ekeia's progress. Await my order to rendezvous by comm, and we shall proceed."

Without another word, the Dark Patriarch of Onderon stalked across the hallway, his dark stole flapping silently at his shoulders, before disappearing around the corner on the far end of the atrium. With a collective sigh of relief, Teu and Jade immediately set about the task of tending their wingmate's wounds.

As Teu hoisted him bodily into a sitting position, applying numb-spray to his leg and Jade met his gaze with her penetrating stare. She lowered her head, using a sterile swab to clean the dirt from the laceration, her dark hair curtaining her face as she spoke casually, injecting the wound with a syringe of bacta.

"...So you can sense these Vong, then...?"

Vorion grunted an affirmative. "You can too." Jade looked sharply up at him. "...Really." he nodded. "Really. So can Teu, for that matter."

He reached out, carefully adjusting Teu's helmet visor. Although she looked surprised at first, she made no move to draw away, and even before he had flicked the thermal filter into place a look of dawning passed over Jade's face. "Clever." she said simply.

Vorion nodded, and seeing that Teu was still rather confused, he pointed at a spot on the ceiling across the atrium, seemingly random. As she leveled her gaze, filtered and inverted through the thermal screen, instinctively reaching out with the Force, she too immediately understood the deceptively-simple ruse. She spotted four distinctly humanoid-shaped thermal signatures on the floor above them, but when she extended her senses, a tendril of awareness in the weave of the Force, she detected no life forms.

"Well, if that isn't the cleverest thing in nine Corellian hells..." she breathed, slightly unnerved at the fact that although she could see the Vong shuffling about in the upstairs communications center, she could sense nothing. But still, she supposed it really wasn't that much more disturbing than fighting the Vong up close; she still hadn't grown used to the concept of a creature absent from the energy field of the entire galaxy.

Vorion scoffed weakly, more blood dribbling down his front as his wingmates resumed their ministrations. "So there you have it," he sighed, tapping his helmet. "For you, the Night Hawks helmet, and for me, the NiteSite scope. The secret behind Vorion's power to sense the wicked and mysterious Yuuzhan Vong." The three of them shared a laugh, the Ubese breathing a sigh of relief as the pain-dulling medications finally began to kick in and the dull haze of pain began to lift.

The Eye of the Abyss, in orbit around Selen.

Illian was aware of many things as he stood impassively on the bridge of the Eye of the Abyss. The cold yet strangely comforting feel of the rails on the metallic palms of his gauntlets (as much a part of his senses as if they were real skin) as he watched the battle unfolding before him, the now-familiar buzzing of communications pouring in from the rest of the fleet, the almost overwhelming feeling of divinity as he himself ordered the manoeuvring of the titanic flagship, all these things raced through his mind as he attempted to meet his Pro-consul’s demands.

You will not be accompanying me Syn, I have another task for you, Sashar had said to him moments before boarding the transport with his half-brother Zandro. You will take the helm of the ‘Abyss, guide the fleet until either Mejas or I return. Give them hell Knight. With that he had left for the surface, leaving his former student in charge of the pride and glory of the Arconan fleet.

“Lord, new contacts moving in!” The voice came from Sulaco who stood at Illian’s side, his face a mixture of anxiety and fear as he delivered his report. He had watched his previous commander’s protégé closely during the last twelve hours, since the beginning of the siege of Selen, and knew that where Sashar was wise and fair, Illian was insane and arbitrary. He wondered what the Pro-consul of Arcona had been thinking when he appointed this madman to the helm.

“Your orders sir?” he probed when he got no response from the knight. Illian spun abruptly and fixed Sulaco with a neon glare.

“Get me an open channel with Commander Ashia and the captain of the Shadow, and tell Talos Annedu I wish to see him. Request the presence of Rho as well.” The man nodded and rushed off, allowing Illian to return to his vigil of the battle. The twin corvettes Turmoil and Despot were pouring laser fire into the vast hull of a bio-Destroyer while the angular Covenant absorbed much of the plasmatic barrage being delivered in return, its batteries spitting green death as it skimmed the Vong capital ship.

Nearby the Heretic Sun had slunk back out of range of the second Destroyer, using a fighter screen to distract the smaller analogue escort as it fired sporadic bursts back at its assailant. The Final Way was attempting to intercept the alien ship, but the third destroyer was sitting across their path, its bio-weapons spewing forth living fire at the beleaguered Sadowan Flagship.

All these things added their own colour to the insane canvas of Illian’s mind, the broken logic that fuelled his tactical insights working in overtime to blend a picture of the engagement’s possible outcomes, variables and odds streaming through his consciousness as he prepared his next move.

“Commander Syn. Ashia here, what is it you want? We are kind of busy here…” The holographic form of the Dlarit Krath lurched as another salvo of Vong bio-matter wracked the Epis’ ship.

“Reporting lord Jedi,” the brisk tones of the Shadow’s ex-o came through the second channel as his image appeared next to the Sadowan’s. Illian nodded absently to both of them, adjusting one of his armoured gloves slightly.

“We have new contacts bearing down on us it seems… more victims to fall to our combined wrath, yet I see we haven’t finished with our current playmates. This needs to change.” He pressed a button that sent a tactical read out of the battle to the view-screen of both captains. “Radiation worked last time, so we are going to try again. Twenty-five little gifts of death will fatally cripple a destroyer and between our three craft we have the fighters to deliver. The Heretic Sun must be the first priority, so I will move to engage your friend, Lady Ashia,” he said as the display changed to show the projected formation of the Dark Jedi fleet.

“At this time, the Final Way will provide support for the Sun assisted by TIE stealth squads from the Eye. I will assign Blue Mist to fly sweep, assisting where they needed, if this plan meets with your authority Mistress.” The mad Knight bowed slightly, as the Krath Epis sized him up.

“Very well Syn, we will do as you say. Wait…” she broke off, her hologram turning to look to an invisible presence. “I have just received word that the Covenant has severely crippled their target, but that the Despot has lost its engine power and the Turmoil is not much better. I am ordering them to support the eye. Send the Darkest Night in to cover our Corvettes. There’s still a lot of fighter and frigate contacts out their.” Her image disappeared, the captain of the Shadow followed shortly after.

“Illian, what in the hells is going on here?” Rho and Talos had just walked onto the bridge, the Quaestor of Galeres wearing a mask of fury as he strode up to the Obelisk. “Sashar must be out of his mind to give you command of the ‘Eye! You have barely any tactical experience, and you’re completely mentally defunct! What in the name of the Dark Lords makes you think you are able to…”

“Lord Quaestor! If you would allow me to continue, I will gladly submit myself to your mercy after this battle is won. In the meantime I need you to take Talos and his team out and provide heavy assault support to the Final Way.” The green-eyed Knight turned away from his comrades and faced Sulaco.
“You know what to do Captain.” The officer bowed and got to work organising the rest of the crew for a close range engagement. Rho just stared at the mad Jedi, his eyes narrowed and shooting daggers before he spun on his heel and strode away.

Talos came up to his trooper and placed a hand on his shoulder.

“We are in your hands for a change Trooper. Don’t let me down; make sure our boys are covered out there.” He stayed a moment longer, before Illian waved him away dismissively, and seeing the level of concentration his squad-mate was employing he left to prepare his team.

The black Imperial II Star Destroyer altered its course, heading towards the Final Way as its vast array of turbo-laser batteries and ion cannons pivoting away from the small clusters of fighters buzzing around its hull as the weapons crews entered new resolutions into the Eye’s battle computer. Slowly they began to fire, sending arcs of green and blue spraying towards the giant Vong Destroyer. Gradually the explosions peppering the Final Way began to slow as bouts of plasma were re-directed towards the Arconan flagship.

“Give Blue Mist the go ahead captain, and prepare all stations for contact…” As he spoke the first of the Vong fire hit, sending shudders through the huge capital ship. Distantly the sound of straining metal pierced the hull. “Shield status!” Illian hissed, his eyes glowing as he watched the scene from the view port.

“They are holding sir, sitting at ninety-eight percent. Ninety-seven, ninety-six…” the deck officer counted as the Eye approached the Vong destroyer.
As if realising the danger approaching, the destroyer suddenly broke off its blockade, angling itself so that much of the Arconan Capital Ship’s fire went wide, thrusting towards the infidels in an attempt to close the gap between the leviathan vessels. As the two approached each other they began to manoeuvre, moving to an angle that would most benefit their weapons batteries until, lying almost parallel, they began to fire with renewed gusto. A lightshow of explosive force bounced the gap between the Eye and the Destroyer as they slowly passed each other, attempting to overpower the other through pure devastation. It was the purest form of space warfare: attrition.

“Shields!” Illian shouted of the din of proximity alarms and damage indicators as consoles sparked and small fires erupted throughout the bridge.

“Twenty-two percent and falling fast, with hull integrity already breached in several sectors! We can’t hold for much longer sir!”

“Keep her steady! I want to see this abomination of living flesh writhe in agony under the purifying guns of our clan!” Although apparent to all present that their commander was completely insane, his words brought a kind of calm to the crew. His complete surety that this mighty vessel of Arcona would prevail was infectious, and as Illian’s mad ranting echoed throughout the ship’s intercom, the proud Arconans aboard felt their leader’s bloodlust.

In space, organic matter and durasteel debris combined as the two ships finished their pass, both turning to attempt a second. For the first time since the start of the battle the crew of the Abyss was silent, waiting with bated breath to see if they would emerge the victors. So slowly the Destroyer began to list and slow, though several more minutes passed before small explosions became visible along its hull. Finally orange cracks appeared across its body, glowing from an inner light until with a flash, the bio-ship exploded into large chunks of dead matter.

Estle City
Outside Giletta Spaceport
Selen, Dajorra System

Darth Vexatus surveyed the ruined city as they punched their way through the sewer exit hatch and proceeded back into Estle City, which was rapidly becoming a wasteland from the orbital fire of the regrouped Yuuzhan Vong force circling Selen.

Through the rising clouds of smoke, still billowing from the city walls, organic drop ships could be seen swimming through the air, strange worm like creatures disgorging more of the aliens to the surface before flipping their tails and disappearing back into the night sky.

Macron Goura looked at the Sith Lord. “I can sense the Overlord,” said the alchemist with uncharacteristic calm. “Do we go help?”

The Falleen closed his eyes, reaching out with the Force. He could feel the Overlord, wounded, his life force ebbing away by what must surely have been poison from a Yuuzhan Vong weapon. Darth Vexatus smiled. He had sensed the same once before. Back at Antei after his Master had suffered the same fate. That time, Vexatus had been the only reason Trevarus Caerick had survived.

He shrugged. “If the Overlord is strong enough, he will survive.”

Macron nodded slowly, reciting one of the Sith Lord's mantras, “The strong live; the weak die.”

“Indeed, my apprentice, indeed,” whispered Darth Vexatus as a malicious grin formed across his lips. It was uncharacteristic of the Falleen, his species were adept at keeping their feelings masked, but he couldn’t help it. If the Overlord was to die, he wouldn’t stand in the Force’s way.

“Let’s continue to the spaceport,” said Vexatus. “I believe I can sense some of the others there.”

Macron reached out himself, allowing the tendrils of perception to wash over him, the jagged Mark etched into his forehead glowing slightly. “Atema,” said Macron.

Vexatus nodded. Ylith was full of fury but his Force connection had been strangely severed during the Battle of Telos six months earlier. The Valheru distrusted the Falleen. His loyalty was not with the Overlord but that did not mean he had sided with the Sith Lord either.

The Falleen smiled. He glanced at the alchemist trailing behind him. Hate. It was such a useful tool. Perhaps the Valheru could be of some use too. Without the Force, he would be no threat at any rate.

The same malicious grin that had crossed his lips a few moments earlier returned as a dastardly thought came to him. If the Valheru was without the Force, he was without defence. Yes, coming here had been a good idea after all.

“Come,” said Darth Vexatus. “Let us make haste to the spaceport. The city is becoming overrun and it is time we got off this rock.”

Dajorra System; Planet Selen
Estle City; Giletta Spaceport


The Valheru groaned as he bandaged his shoulder with some random pieces of cloth
and strapped it tightly. The burns caused by his own saber a constant painful reminder
of his own weaknesses, yet also a sign of his determination no matter how bad the
setbacks.

Meanwhile people were running about, fighting off the Vong while having a large scale
evacuation underway back to the Final Way. The Vong were supressing the area and
it was only a matter of hours before the Vong had fully captured Estle City. As the
Sith Battlemaster

"Atema..." A deep dark voice said and Ylith's eyes widened a moment, then he turned
around to look into the menacing eyes of Darth Vexatus. The Valheru eyed him for a
moment and then lowered his head.

"Vexatus." He said coldly, trying to hold his own towards the Sith Lord, defiant as always
yet knowing that one wrong word could have him snapped in half without a moment's notice.

The Falleen made a gesture the Battlemaster should follow him and they moved to a more
secluded part of the Spaceport. Ylith moved his hand to the hilt of his sword, after the
events that happened during the Battle of Telos he learned not to trust the Darth. He also
learned what it means to defy a Sith Lord, as he was almost killed last time he tried so.

"I can sense your hatred, and I can see your plans...Mundane." Vexatus said, grinning as
the Valheru frowned, clearly feeling smaller towards the Sith Lord.

"What are you getting at?" The Battlemaster said, not much of a threat, curiosity grabbed him
and the Falleen's lips curled with delight as the Valheru walked right into his grasp.

"You're stripped of power, power that I still hold in my posession, power I could easily grant
you to play your role as a little...scorpion?" Vexatus said, his words poured as a sweet wine
yet tainted as the most vicious of poison.

"What do you want in return?" The Battlemaster asked and the Falleen snickered. "The demise
of Arcona..."

On the Way to the Starport
Estle City

Fenris and his squad began making their way to the starport, Fenris, Tritherus, and Zaroth out in front, soldiers behind them. Their formation was working, Vong attacking from the behind giving the Journeyman enough time to fight or flee, depending on how close they were to dying.

The victory Fenris felt a few moments ago left a bitter taste in his mouth. He could've possibly helped more instead of saving a forsaken temple that no Vong actually entered. There was no time to think that now, he had to keep moving, if only to meet up with his Clan one more time.

In the last 100 yard stretch, Fenris and his group were attacked by Vong. Fenris had ordered everyone to stand and fight, making a vague reference to a lousy speech he heard his master say once. The Dlarit Soldiers began laying down support fire, killing very few Vong, in fact hitting very few Vong, it was up to Zaroth, Tritherus, and Fenris to kill the small squad of 3 Vong Warriors.

"Ready for some action guys?" asked Fenris, concentrating on the multiple dead bodies behind him. All he heard were grunts of approval from behind him, and the activation of lightsabers.

Zaroth and Tritherus both leaped out towards the same Vong, hitting it in the armpits and making it fall to it's knees, it appeared to laugh at this, and Fenris could help but smile. He lifted the bodies that were behind him and threw them forward, launching them at the Vong and making them topple over. Zaroth and Tritherus took this as a moment of opportunity and lunged at the Vong on the ground, only to be kicked by the other two Vong watching, circling around the Journeyman.

"Fire!" yelled Fenris to the Dlarit troops. A volley of kinetic energy blistered the Vong Warrior's in the Face, hitting one in the eyes, blinding him. Fenris dashed towards the Vong warriors and did a slide towards one of the Vong's crotch areas, stabbing it in the leg. Tritherus and Zaroth lunged towards the Vong and stabbed it in the mouth, thrusting their sabers left and right, cutting off the Vong's head.

The Other two Vong remained, but Fenris ordered everyone to retreat and make it towards the Starport. The rest of the Dlarit Troopers shot at the two Vong, trying to distract them while the other three got away. The plan worked, but cost them a lot.

The Eye of the Abyss, Orbital Engagement around Selen.

“Get power back to the point laser batteries Mr. Sulaco. I don’t care if you have to shut down medical; I want those guns fully operational!” Illian repressed the urge to kill the Arconan officer standing before him, knowing that in the end this was not his command to treat as he pleased. He was custodian of the Eye until Sashar returned, and he would act accordingly.

“Yes my lord, but after the battle with that destroyer we are severely in need of medical facilities. We too many casualties and…” Sulaco stopped short, noticing the mad Knight’s eyes begin to glow even brighter than they were already, recognising the danger it heralded. “…And we will do everything we can to return the point Turbo-laser grid to maximum operational efficiency.” He saluted and took his leave, talking furiously into his comm.-link.

“Sir, transmission from the Final Way,” reported the communications officer as the Obelisk strode past.

“Put it through,” snarled Illian as the holographic image of Ashia appeared before him. “Epis,” he bowed, “how can I serve?”

“That was quite a gamble Syn, Vong destroyers are known for their resilience and destructive power. The Eye could have been wiped out…” She paused for a moment, trying to gauge the Knight’s reaction, but seeing his face remain the same combination of scowling impatience and vague indifference, she continued. “We have our target on the back foot, proceed to help the assist the Despot and the Turmoil; it seems we have several more incoming, and those damn destroyers launched hundreds of drop-spores before we took them out…” Her image flickered and disappeared just as several alarms went off around the bridge.

“Report dammit!” The mad Equite roared as he stalked towards the view port.

“One more destroyer contact and several more corvette analogues have just appeared on the solar-eastern side of Selen! There are deploying more troops and moving to engage the Heretic Sun from behind!” The reply came from the sensor station.

“Get us over to the ‘Way! I will not let these putrid insects best me!” Illian’s eyes were green fire as he drove a black gauntlet into the wall.

“Sir more frigate analogues and several corvettes have jumped into sector five! Wait, more in sector eight and nine!” As the report came in, Illian looked out and saw death in the space around Selen: a myriad of different Vong ships resolving around the planet, accompanied by swarms of coral-skippers that clouded around the CSP and Arconan ships like flies.

For the first time the Obelisk realised how out of his depth he was, as all around him the crew of the ‘Eye looked to him for guidance. Lowering his head and letting a drop of sweat fall from his nose he attempted to reach a state of calm through the force, letting his mind extend out to the battle, looking for any small opening or weakness that he could use to save his home system. He strained to focus, his broken mind attempting to bridge the gap to rational thought, but to no avail. Finally he knew what he had to do.

“Re-group around the Turmoil and Despot. If we need to run, make sure we take a few of them with us! Sulaco, get a shuttle ready, and prepare the ‘Abyss for hyper-space travel! Weapons, I want targeting resolutions prepared for orbital bombardment! Get us in as close to the atmosphere of Selen as possible and tell Talos and Rho to get back to us!” The crew exploded into action, as Illian relayed his plan to Ashia.

“I see where you’re going with this Syn, but I’m not sure I like it. Still we are running out of options… Ill relay your orders to the Turmoil and Despot. May the force be with you Syn.” The Krath disappeared again and Illian was left to ponder the next few minutes, and how it may very well define the outcome of the space battle for Selen.

His concept was simple enough, using a bastion formation of their remaining ships to make the Vong believe they were making a last stand and concentrate their efforts on crushing the last of the dark Jedi space resistance. The Heretic Sun would jump as soon as it was clear to a pre-designated staging area along with the Shadow, Blue Mist and several other escort fighter wings, and wait for the rest of the fleet. The remaining ships would leave orbit one by one in a seemingly scattered retreat, until the ‘Abyss was the last. Using what orbital weapons they still had online, the Star Destroyer would rain a weak barrage of fire down on Giletta Spaceport, covering the approach of one shuttle that would ferry Illian and a contingent of Arconan Commandos to the surface. Sulaco would take the ‘Abyss and meet with Ashia, who would assume command of the fleet and ready the second stage of the operation.

“Sir, the transport is prepped, and the fleet is converging on the designated holding area.” Sulaco gave a small bow and returned to readying the crew for the trying task ahead. Illian gazed out of the window as several more wings of coral skippers belched fire down on the shields of the Eye of the Abyss, blue ripples being the only signs that anything stood between the black ship and a fiery death. In response, several turbo-lasers tore through the bio-fighters, and the deranged Knight fancied he could almost hear their tortured shrieks as their life force exploded in the vacuum of space.

Across the astral plain, the two battered Sadowan ships were valiantly holding off several frigates while the Darkest Night poured fire into a group of corvettes that were attempting to flank their Dark Jedi counterparts. The Vong destroyer remained centralised in the carnage, jetting endless bio-transports to the surface below, sending stray blasts of plasma at the Interdictor cruiser which was slowly making its escape, flanked by the Shadow.

“Illian to Rho, I think its time commander. Get your people back aboard the Shadow and get out of here. The Eye is yours again my lord.” The Knight turned to his helmsman. “Put us between the destroyer and the ‘Sun. Lets give them some cover.” With that he left the bridge and prepared for his planet landing. There would be an evacuation of Estle City, but not yet.
Like a dark knife, the Eye of the Abyss cut across the battle, its turbo lasers and ion cannons spraying death to the small Vong craft that swarmed over its majestic hull. Slowly it manoeuvred between the organic destroyer’s hail of fire, the already beleaguered ship buckling as several shots made it through the damaged shields, sending small explosions through the stern. The mighty flagship that was Arcona’s pride didn’t falter however, as several large blasts tore through Selen’s atmosphere, hiding the approach of a Lambda shuttle.

The Final Way, Orbit of Selen.

Soon the rest of the ships were assembled and one by one began to stretch and disappear. Ashia watched them go, her mind racing. She hated leaving her Clan Mates behind, but silently she vowed they would return soon.

“Captain, get a jump calculation and get us out of here.” The Final way lingered for a moment, still firing at seemingly endless foes, before it too vanished into hyperspace.

Giletta Spaceport, Selen.

The gathered Sadow Jedi looked to the sky as several bursts of Ion energy pounded the inner part of the Spaceport. It was clear that only superficial damage was caused, but a huge dust cloud spread out across the surrounding area, blanketing the sky in a grey haze.

Vexatus narrowed his eyes and shoved Ylith aside.

“What is this treachery? That was not Vong fire…” As he watched, shapes began to emerge from spaceport entrance, sharp moving shadows that could not be identified. “Prepare yourselves, something is amiss here.” There sabre blades flared to life as each of the Darth’s party prepared for an engagement. Suddenly the shapes took on a more solid form, as a dozen black-armoured troopers wearing Arconan markings emerged from the haze. In front of them was a man dressed in blue armour, helmet-less, his white hair blowing freely across finely chiselled features that housed two luminescent green eyes. Upon seeing Vexatus and his party, the figure moved his hand slightly and a red beam materialised by his side.

Illian approached the gathered Jedi without fear, his senses alight and overjoyed as he rejoined the battle where he could do the most damage: up close and personal.

“I am Illian Syn of Clan Arcona. There will be no evacuation this hour. Vong ships have flooded Selen and the fleet was forced into a retreat action. I don’t know what your plans may be, but I suggest you change them. I must find my Consul immediately.”

Estle City
Selen, Dajorra System

Astronicus awoke with a shortness of breath, gasping for air to fill his lungs. He looked around and could see his troops were engaged in fire fights and melee battles with a Yuuzhan Vong force that had been on a nearby patrol. The smell of death permeated the air. Around him lay bodies from all sides of this gruesome battle. Cresh and Dorn were busy protecting him and the rest of the wounded, not noticing his return to consciousness. The Krath priestess lay atop of him, her own lifeforce dwindling to nothingness.

There was no longer any trace of the poison within his system, but he knew that he had not been fast nor strong enough to eliminate it on his own. Apparently she had added her power to his so that he might live once again. Rising from the ashes of fallen flesh he quickly stretched and took into account the events transpiring around him. He noticed two lightsabers near the fringe of the battle his men were involved in. He did not recognize the sabers, but he knew the face of Malisane de Ath - the other must be his apprentice Imgormiel Slar.

Astronicus could see they had things well in hand, the Vong were being dealt with effectively, but it would be not long before more arrived. This planet was a lost hope for now, the Yuuzhan Vong had overwhelmed and encircled it. There would be no more need to help in its defense. Astronicus reached out to the nearby warriors under his command as well as de Ath and his student, he could feel their energy flowing through the Force. Though still weak, he extended himself, adding to their own power. Battle meditation was not his best suited power, but he was fairly familiar with it as was his ancestor.

He could feel his energy enwrap the soldiers, their performance improving as they battled their enemies. The Yuuzhan Vong were being beaten back, all of the troops were converging on the last few warriors until they too were defeated. The battle was over, though it would be only a matter of time until another erupted. Malisane, having finished the last warrior off, walked over to the Overlord.

"Lord Sadow," said the Battlelord, "it is good to see you back on your feet, as it were."

"Thanks, Mal." Astronicus once again looked the area over, taking into account the number of troops alive, those wounded, and so forth. "Collect our wounded and pack up. We need to head back to the starport at once. It is imperative to amass our forces there before the Yuuzhan Vong overwhelm our forces."

The surviving members gathered what they could, the wounded troops leaning upon their comrades for support. Astronicus too helped out, picking up the body of the Krath priestess that had saved his life but was barely alive herself now. The remnants of the platoon moved out, enroute for Giletta Spaceport.

Estle City
Giletta Spaceport
Selen, Dajorra System

Estle City was burning when Malisane de Ath arrived at Giletta Spaceport with the still wounded Overlord and the rest of their party. The Arconan commandos who had arrived were hastily prepping the nearby transport for launch, packing in all the supplies and explosives they could fit into the craft’s swollen cargo hold.

Darth Vexatus’s face flickered in the light of nearby flames where he lurked among the shadows nearby. Macron Goura was by his side, staring bitterly out at the ragtag band of survivors. Fire could still be heard in the distance where the rest of the Dlarit and Selen troops were holding off the unending Yuuzhan Vong lines.

“What is your plan now, my lord?” enquired Macron, the impatience in his voice palpable.

The Falleen’s face was a ghastly grimace. “We wait.” It brought him no more pleasure than the bloodthirsty alchemist. But with the Final Way withdrawn their extraction was impossible. Not with the Yuuzhan Vong destroyers in orbit.

The shuttle was almost loaded when Ylith Atema strolled over to the pair lurking in the darkness. “They’re ready to head to the Citadel,” said the Valheru. “According to Syn, Doto is hauled up there.”

The Falleen sighed. A rescue op. He hated rescue.

“Can we not just kill them?” promoted Macron.

Vexatus allowed himself a tight grin. The alchemist was learning quickly. But he shook his head, “No. With the Final Way, perhaps, but a shuttle won’t make it past the ships in orbit.” The Sith Lord sounded indifferent, but inside he was raging. He wanted to be off this rock. The idea was not to be trapped here as the Yuuzhan Vong took control of the city.

“Then that’s that,” said Ylith. “We go with them to the Citadel and hope the Final Way returns.”

The party begrudgingly strolled across the brief expanse of the landing field to the transport. Climbing on board they saw Astronicus Sadow, his arm hooked up to a small bacta tank as a surgical droid seemed to be draining it of fluid. The Falleen sighed. He had hoped the Overlord would have died from the venom, although he had known that was too much to expect. No matter, the poison would take much more than a droid to heal, even if it would make him ready for battle for now.

Malisane de Ath was conversing with several of his Ewoks in the rear corner of the passenger area. He glanced up but resumed his conversation with the chief Ewok in the party.

Darth Vexatus collapsed into one of the chairs. It had been a long day. Perhaps at least their journey to the Citadel would go according to plan. Maybe by the time they got Mejas out, much as it irked the Sith Lord to lend his aid, the Final Way would be back to get them off this lost world for good.

Dajorra System; Planet Selen
Transport Shuttle
En-route to Arcona Citadel.


Tension grew harder as time went by, the Arconan sat at the back, Ylith standing near him holding
himself up as the shuttle rocked back and forth due to turbulence. Darth Vexatus was sitting near the
front of the shuttle, his eyes closed and in thought, grunting in silence as it took way too much time
for his luck.

Suddenly the Arconan opened his mouth.
"Remember Sadowians...rescuing Consul Doto is our primairy mission objective." Illian said and before
the Falleen could open his eyes to crush the Arconan like a bug, Ylith's sword was already unsheathed
and placed upon the Arconan's neck.

"We do not take orders from an Arconan. And I am sure as hell not taking any from a Journeyman..." The
Battlemaster said with a growl in his voice that hinted a raised anger. The same anger made Vexatus'
lips curl slightly and Macron giggled in silence, loving the fact the Knight was put into place.

"Valheru, thats enough." The Overlord's voice said and Ylith narrowed his eyes and gritted his teeth, glaring
at the Overlord. The Falleen opened his eyes slightly, his pupils sliding to the shamed Sith and lifted
his finger slightly into his direction.

"Says the so called Overlord." The Battlemaster said and before Tron could respond Malisane rose from his
seat, moved to Ylith and placed his hand on his shoulder. "Thats enough Ylith, there is no need for this
right now. We are all trapped here."

Ylith released the Arconan from the tip of his sword and he rubbed his neck for a moment where the sharp
edge of the blade had been. The Sith Lord snickered in silence as he closed his eyes once more and took
his mind back to his thoughts.

"Sir, the Citadel is in view, landing zone is hot, but we'll pull through safely." The Pilot said and as the
Shuttle set down gently the door opened into a battlefield.

"Lets get that Consul of yours and finally get out of this damn place." Ylith said, highly agitated he wasnt
on his way home yet.

The Citadel
Arcona Headquarters
Selen, Dajorra System

The great ziggurat towered above the band of Dark Jedi as they poured out of the transport into the main courtyard. Bodies of defenders and Yuuzhan Vong lined the entranceway as Illian led the charge inside, the troopers and other Dark Jedi following behind.

“This way,” called Illian as he rushed through, desperately searching for signs of life. No doubt the Shadow Lord and his surviving guardians would be grouped at the center of the Citadel. They would have to hope there were few Yuuzhan Vong in between.

The party followed the Arconan through the labyrinthine interior of the Citadel. Were it not for his escort, they would surely have become lost within its endless twisting passageways. Still more bodies littered the ground and signs of a battle fought not long ago. The quiet was unsettling.

“Where exactly are we heading?” spat Ylith Atema. It was clear the Valheru had been eager to return to the Final Way when the fleet had been forced to withdraw into hyperspace. Estle City was lost. This was not what they had had in mind for an extraction plan.

Illian stopped, turning back to stare at the Valheru. Behind the visor of his blue battle suit it was impossible to tell what the Arconan was thinking, only that it was clear from his presence in the Force that he was not in the mood for further delay.

“The Shadow Lord requires our aid,” said Illian, his voice firm. “We go to him and hope Soulfire have held the Far Outsiders off well enough to get through this in one piece.” The Arconan paused, holding his gaze on the assisting Clansmen for a second. “You follow and you assist.”

“And if we don’t?” the question was the Falleen’s.

“Then you can remain behind and rot,” barked Illian before turning his back and carrying on down the corridor toward wherever it was Mejas Doto would be hauled up. If nothing else, at least they had managed to hold most of the Yuuzhan Vong outside the Citadel’s walls. With so little to worry about, the extraction would hopefully be relatively harmless. For a second Darth Vexatus considered destroying the journeyman for his tone but thought better of it. A fight would only delay his getting off this planet further.

“Why are we helping him?” whispered Macron Goura once Illian and Astronicus were out of earshot. The alchemist looked unhappy; apparently disappointed they had been dragged along on this rescue operation after all. This was not what he had had in mind.

The Sith Lord paused, staring after the Arconan and the Dlarit troopers marching down the corridor as their boots clanked against the floor in unison. For a brief second he contemplated diverting to the library and searching for the Abyssal Tome, the sacred book which held most of Clan Arcona’s secrets. But the Falleen quickly pushed the thought from his mind; Arcona would have removed the Tome from the Citadel as soon as the Yuuzhan Vong had been sighted. Mejas was not foolish enough to lose such a precious artifact to the Far Outsiders.

“To get off this planet,” Darth Vexatus finally answered bitterly. He had hoped to be off this rock long before the Yuuzhan Vong invasion had begun in earnest. His actions in Estle City were now catching up with himself. He silently cursed his Master had allowed the Final Way to be pulled out so soon. It could have stood up for another few minutes; long enough to extract from Estle City.

Ylith Atema muttered something under his breath. “I don’t like it. This was not part of our plan.”

Unlike Goura, Atema had no idea what Vexatus and his team had done in the city. The Valheru could not hope to realise their actions had cost him the defence of Giletta Spaceport. The Falleen allowed himself a tight smile. Depressing as being forced along on this rescue op was, at least their task had been done regardless.

“No,” lied Vexatus, “it was not.” It was part of my plan. The Falleen cursed again before continuing off down the corridor after the Arconan. At least once they reached Mejas they could be off this world. He was starting to wonder if he would have been better off staying supervising the work at the Temple of the Void after all...

The Citadel
Arcona Headquarters
Selen, Dajorra System

Malisane and Imgormiel walked at the back of the group. There was a tense atmosphere between them, Malisane was still annoyed about his student dragging them into this and Imgormiel knew it. Despite that the Zabrak was feeling optimistic. He'd been in seclusion on Kangaras almost since he'd joined the Clan, occasionally visiting Orian for ceremonies and the like. Macron he'd known on his visits to Usharak, and he'd briefly seen Lords Vexatus and Lord Sadow during the Hafa Chun incident, but this was the first time he'd been directly involved with them.

Malisane was less impressed. He hadn't wanted to get involved, hide out, prepare the ewoks for a raid on this building once the Arconans left and the Vong backed off a bit, and steal something useful. Now he was stuck on a rescue mission with no merit and the fleet had left them, and if this was anything like Antei they wouldn't return, Trevarus and the Keibatsu would head back to Orian and preserve their assets. He rolled up the sleeve of his black padded tunic and pressed a sequence of buttons on a wrist device.

Near the Citadel
Selen

High Chief Urtarg nodded in satisfaction as the communicator in his ear beeped. It was time. He turned to Lamarg, a young ewok on his first patrol, barking a quick order in thier language. Lamarg nodded and relayed the order. In the surrounding area the other groups began to converge on Urtargs location, moving quickly and silently, searching for any rogue vong patrols.


An asteroid belt
Dajorra System.

The lights came on in the cockpit and lounge areas of the Argnok. A band of flickering lights burst across the computer, as the scanners read the signal and double checked the co-ordinates. Microseconds later the engines powered on, as the stealthy freigher began it's subtle journey back to Selen.

The Citadel
Arcona Headquarters
Selen, Dajorra System

Mejas Doto had always been his rival for as long as he could remember. The Arconan was their version of Astronicus in not so simple a way. Offering to help and rescue him was in no way mercy, kindness or pity. Doto was merely a universal constant for the Overlord of Naga Sadow, a challenge to him in every way but not an unbeatable one.

They made their way down the corridor; blood smears, blaster scarring and razor bugs plastered the wall in an abstract art form that was neither pleasing nor disgusting in the eyes of Astronicus. His thoughts were not dwelling on them though, nor on saving Mejas. He was more concerned with how so many within the clan were beginning to turn against him. It was time to seperate the weeds from the wheat. But that matter would have to be dealt with when they returned to Sepros.

Dorn was ahead of the Overlord, leading as pointman while Cresh brought up the rear - looking over his shoulder every now and then to assure himself they had no enemies tailing them. Up ahead of Dorn was Illian Syn and his rag tag band of Arconan warriors. They were almost to their destination now, soon they would have what they needed and be off this cursed planet.

Astronicus was growing tired of the pointless battles they continued to fight for the inhabitants of Selen. They did not profit him, his corporation or his clan in any way. It sharpened the blade, made his soldiers stronger, weeded out the weak - but other than that it served to no end. He would see to it that such actions were not lightly taken into account next time.

Smoke filled the hallways up beyond the exit of the corridor and bodies could be seen laying upon the ground. Selenian troops, many gutted or decapitated by the Far Outsiders littered the floor. Apparently they had failed to hold back the enemy, but that was to be expected, the enemy had superior strength and agility compared to these mundanes.

Out of the smoke rushed a squad of Yuuzhan Vong, weapons at the ready. The threw blast bugs at the troops in the front lines taking down several Selenian defenders. Others lashed out with their amphistaffs at the Dark Jedi, only to be met by the glowing blades of their sabers. And so the battle began yet again for one more time.

Dajorra System
Approaching Selen

Zaxen tried to visualize the various readings on his scanner but at this distance the data came back as small blobs of movement on the screen. The ship which he was given by House Isradia felt odd. It seemed to radiate in the Force, not quite alive but certainly attuned. The technology of the craft however was rather rudimentary and lacked the sophistication of the space craft he was used to. What it lacked in sophistication it made up for in handling and speed. He had made the trip from Vardor in record time, though it had taken nearly a week to do so.

During his journey he had slipped into a hibernation trance, slowing his bodily functions down to an almost death like state. He had cleared his mind for the technique but the Force would not stay quiet. Visions of a war torn city and a flaming sky, blood and tears, rage and torment, pain and death were all there. He saw the ancient game once again being played out. Lines between enemies and allies were blurred to the point of near non existance. Stratagies played out, politics and power traded hands and became bedfellows then enemies in a moments time.

When his eyes opened the visions lingered and played heavily on his thoughts. So many twists and turns of fate. So many games. Zaxen shook his head. Stay focused on what must be done. Let the power hungry destroy themselves in their greed. Protect what is important. Keep things as simple as possible Zaxen repeated this to himself time and time again until finally the time to act had come.

Zaxen keyed in his comm system to the frequency in which he had been supplied in order to contact his Queastor and Primarch Ashura. The comlink beeped as the channel opened and Zaxen spoke. "Lord Patriarch Ashura. This is Hunter Zaxen. Do you read?" A moment of silence.
"Lord Patriarch Ashura. This is Zaxen Dauketrenal. Are you receiving?" Still silence.

The blue and green jewel that was Selen loomed ever closer and flashes of battle were clearly visable and it was not long before the various silhouettes of capital ships took on distinguishable shapes. The battle had clearly not been lost yet but as his heads up display began to show contacts he knew that the Arconians and Sadowites were both hard pressed. "Battmaster Ashura do you read? This is Zaxen Dauketrenal."

"Greetings Zaxen..." came the statically distorted reply. "Glad to have you with us. I trust your mission went well?"
"Indeed it has. Jade's child is in safe hands." Zaxen reported.
"Well done. Now make yourself useful and get to the planet's surface. There have been several turn of events and we have become somewhat isolated." Ashura's calm voice did not betray his urgency but the flicker in the Force suggested that he wished Zaxen to stop conversing and to hurry along.
"I have homed in on your frequency and will be there shortly." Was his quick reply before closing the connection.

As Zaxen scanned his heads up display once again, he noticed several small vessels breaking off and turning hot on his position. He flexed his hands several times before gripping the throttle and control stick and plunged his strange fighter into the oncoming dogfight. He watched as the numbers ticked down for range as the closing rate began to skyrocket. A small smirk played instinctivly across Zaxen's face as he thumbed his weapon systems to life.

His targeting computer reported three clear contacts and immediatly seperated them on his heads up display as well as displaying a computed point of target lead to maximize aiming. Zaxen made a small correction in his flight path to bring his weapons to bare on the lead corral skipper and his heart began to beat the rythm of battle. Then time seemed to slow. The lights in the starry back drop of space blazed in fury around Zaxen as his senses stretched out into the Force.
The corral skipper was nearly in range. Zaxen tensed as he awaited for the moment to strike. He kept his course straight and true and just as the corral skipper was at his ten he pulled hard on his stick and rolled into a tight turn as he pulled the throttle back to make his turn even sharper. The inertial dampners worked hard to counteract the forces on his body. He grunted audibly as he continued his manuever.

The flight of skippers were surprised at the strange Vardorian craft's agility and had to overcorrect in order to keep it in sight but by then it was too late. Zaxen had the drop on the lead adversary and opened fire. The coral skipper was ready however and the dovin basal defence mechanizism engaged and swallowed up the laser fire. Zaxen cursed at his luck but pressed his position. He tapped at his trigger firing as rapidly as his weapons would allow. It took several volleys but eventually a hit found its mark on the rocky hull but it was not enough.

Suddendly his heads up display flashed several warnings and he was forced to break off in order to avoid the other two skippers who had now found their way to his tail.

Damn... This was going to take some time.

The Citadel, en route to the Throne Room.

Illian was a seething as he led the would-be rescuers through the sacred Arconan Temple. He could feel the malicious intent of his ‘allies’ like angry waves breaking over the force and knew that soon it would be time to loose them. Something was bothering the mad Knight, and not just the fool Ylith’s insulting words, or the so-called ‘Darth’ Vexatus’ obsessed self importance; not all was as it should be with these deceitful Sadowans. He could not place what, but somehow he felt the Vong were not the only threat to Arcona in Selen.

Activating the internal link to his commando team he gave the order that would prepare them for dispersion into the maze-like hallways of the ziggurat. Every Arconan soldier and Equite knew the layout of the Citadel but its layout was a carefully guarded secret from any outsider, Vong and Sadowan included. Pulling a small object free from his bandolier, the Arconan Knight prepared himself to leave these fools to rot. As he was about to turn, several Vong warriors launched themselves from the corridor ahead, cleaving through several of his commandos. Cursing he activated his sabre and launched forward.

The first Vong threw a deadly thud bug at the Arconan Jedi, but Illian was already gone, moving so fast the creature could not keep up, until a red sabre blade pierced his face and he dropped to the floor. The mad Equite was already moving to the next warrior who struck out with an amphistaff, only to have Illian dodge the attack and, with his blade deactivated and a bloodthirsty cry on his lips, strike the symbiotic armour of the Vong’s chest with both spined metal fists. Channelling the force into the attack he succeeded in throwing the large alien backwards, reactivating his blade just as he darted forward to strike the warrior in the vulnerable area of his neck.

“Arconans, now!” He yelled into the communicator, throwing one of his renowned smoke bombs to the ground. The Vong, caught in the disorienting fog, became easy game for the powerful Sadowan Jedi, who pressed their advantage to drive the aliens back. The mist continued to thicken however, and soon chaos broke out in the corridor as vision was totally obscured. Only the Overlord kept his cool, extending his good arm, palm forward, to send an invisible wave that pushed the smoke back down the corridor.

The Far Outsiders lay dead on the floor, surrounded by dead Arconan and Dlarit troops, with the Sadowan Jedi standing with sabres activated each ready to engage the next wave of foes. None came however and soon they relaxed, reforming the convoy. Vexatus looked around for a moment before cursing loudly. Illian Syn was gone along with the commandos, no doubt down one of the secret tunnels and corridors that were sure to honey-comb the large Temple. All that could be heard was a lingering sound, like a low insane laugh echoing through the force.

Illian raced down the low tunnel towards the intersection he knew would take him directly to Malidir and Mejas, his broken mind assembling a report in which he would have to explain to the dread shadow lord how he had failed to hold Selen’s orbit for the extraction. Mejas would probably kill him, but then death held no fear for the mad Knight. Better to die at the hands of one worthy of his blood than a bunch of foul Sadowan alchemists and cripples.

Another turn up ahead and he was sprinting towards the secret door that would lead him straight into the throne room, the remainder of his team still close behind him. He reached it and, activating a pressure plate at just the right amount of effort through the force to open the door instead of activating the assassin droid in the ceiling, he walked into the dark chamber of his lord Consul’s dominion.

Fear swept over the Jedi and his commandos, churning his stomach with a terror like nothing else he had experienced. It was an uncommon feeling for the mad Knight, and one that he knew could be evoked by only one being.

“Lord Mejas,” he cried, his voice sounding small and insignificant compared to the surrounding darkness, “I am Illian Syn, loyal son of Arcona! I am here to server my Lord...” he was cut off as a booming voice penetrated his consciousness.

“I know what you are, loyal son of Arcona…” it sneered, “what do you have to report?” Slowly the shadows began to take shape, and Mejas Doto strode over to the Knight, flanked by Malidir in his Neo-Crusader armour with his rifle trained on Illian’s head.

“There are Sadowans en-route lord. Atronicus and Vexatus are with them. I don’t trust them lord, I believe they have other reasons for aiding us…” he stopped as a restrictive force wrapped itself around his throat, stopping the air flow into his lungs.

“Of course they have other reasons fool. They will try to destroy Arcona given the chance. But they too are puppets. Their greedy intervention has bought us time. What of the fleet?” Suddenly Illian could breathe again, and spluttering on the floor, he continued with his report.

“Vong… swarmed us. Had to… retreat. Sulaco under orders to… return with Ashia and the fleet… ditch the Sadowans to the Vong and pick up our people when we give the order…” he broke into another fit of coughing. Mejas looked down at him in contempt.

“You failed. I do not accept failure.” As before, the invisible grip around Illian’s throat tightened as the feared Consul choked the life out of him. Just as black dots began to cloud his eyes, a familiar voice rang out from behind the Consul.

“Lord Mejas, it would appear that Illian had no other options. Given the fact that he assisted in the destruction of three Vong destroyers and the preservation of the Arconan fleet, it may be wise to keep him alive. He also has the most recent intelligence, and that will be invaluable.” Sashar was careful to keep his voice deeply respectful, mindful of his Master’s temper. Fortunately he was successful in placating the Shadow Lord, who dropped the mad Knight to the floor.

“Very well, it is time to discuss our next move. Get him on his feet and bring him to the planning room. I don’t want the inconvenience of having to kill Atronicus just at the minute.” With that the Consul of Arcona swept from the throne room, while Sashar helped his former apprentice to his feet.

“Welcome back Illian. Congratulations, you’ve just survived one of the hardest tests this clan offers to its members: Our Consul.”

The Arconans followed Mejas to the command room near the top of the Citadel, all aware of the threats closing in from all sides.

The Citadel
Arcona Headquarters
Selen, Dajorra System

Darth Vexatus paused. He caught sight of Malisane de Ath disappearing into one of the side passageways, leaving Astronicus Sadow and the others to head off after Illian in search of the Arconan leader.

“Where’s he going?” whispered Macron Goura, narrowing his eyes on the corridor where Malisane had disappeared to, along with his apprentice, Imgormiel.

They followed Malisane down the winding passageway, heading back toward the entrance from which they had entered the Citadel. The hallway eventually led them outside, into a small courtyard. Imgormiel caught sight of the quintet tailing them first.

“Master...” whispered Imgormiel beneath his breath.

Malisane spun, his hand gripping his lightsaber reflexively. Upon seeing the Falleen his grip tightened. He could never be too careful. No less, he knew enough to know Vexatus didn’t care for the mission. “I summoned the Argnok. It will be landing in a few minutes.”

The Falleen gave Malisane a cold hard stare before inclining his head. “Perfect.”

“What about the Overlord?” asked Naiia, her concern radiating through the Force. Macron’s apprentice she may have been, she had not let learned hate.

“I am sure Mejas will be able to assist him and the others,” said Vexatus. He had no real idea to be honest. He knew Mejas and Astronicus were rivals. Two Clans, two agendas, it was only natural. Nevertheless, he expected even the Shadow Lord would show thanks to the few who actually remained behind to the end to lend their aid to Arcona.

The device on Malisane’s wrist began to flash. “They’re near,” the man said.

The Argnok descended from the sky, its repulsors firing as it set down inside the courtyard, lowering its landing ramp and forcing several of the corpses which were strewn across the ground deep into the mud.

“About time,” sighed Ylith Atema. He began to approach the ramp when a pair of large muscular Ewoks darted down it, their spears drawn as they forced him back. The Valheru sighed and stared at Malisane. “Would you order your pet midgets off?”

Imgormiel stifled a laugh.

Malisane barked something in Ewokese and the two spiky and black furred Ewoks backed away from Ylith, although they kept their eyes trailed on him. The Ewoks may not have been able to speak Basic but they understood it enough to know Ylith had insulted them.

After the group were aboard Darth Vexatus moved to one of the cargo holds to contact his Master away from the others. His betrayal may have been well known to three of them, but he didn’t want Atema or de Ath knowing about their actions in Estle City. He keyed one of the wall consoles to comm. the Final Way. The image of Trevarus Caerick materialised on the viewscreen.

“My Master, we are prepared to depart. Can you order the Final Way back?”

The sorcerer looked haggard. “I will see what I can do. We are currently somewhere in the Maw cluster. Did all go according to plan, my apprentice?”

The Falleen’s expression revealed little. “We disabled Estle’s defences.” He didn’t elaborate. His Master would be able to guess the rest.

“Understood, my apprentice.” And with that the sorcerer closed the channel, leaving the Falleen to his thoughts as he returned to the main passenger hold and awaited extraction.

The Citadel
Arcona Headquarters
Selen, Dajorra System

Astronicus and his team had been cut off from the rest, Illian Syn and his folk having disappeared down one of the labyrinth corridors. Their only recourse now would be to extrapolate telemetry from the sensors within Cresh's helmet to lead them back outside. The Overlord gave the order and stretched out his own senses to see if he could locate any of the Sons or Disciples. The strong emanation of Force users not far from here, but undoubtedly through a maze of corridors, assured him that Vexatus and his brood were together.

Cresh's sensors completed a planned trajectory of passage through the tunnel like corridors and the four member team moved out. Once again, and mostly because he had the map, Cresh took the lead. Astronicus followed, with the Krath Priestess who's name he could not recall closely behind him. Dorn brought up the rear, placing proximity mines where he could for any Vong that might be following. The trek was not all that long but had they not traced their steps it would have been mind boggling.

Before they left the cover of the building for good Astronicus would have to come up with a plan to get off this desolated rock of a planet. Selen would become another of the Far Outsider's example worlds for those that defied their gods. He took into consideration all of the vessels that had arrived in system with their task force and those that had landed, since not all of the troops could have been deployed by the means in which he had arrived.

Wait one minute. Thought the Overlord. The larty that brought us down from the Final Way surely must still be here. Or at the very least the one that aided us at Sinchi Caste Temple.

"Captain, contact command and see if any LAAT/i transports are still on-planet." Ordered Astronicus. "Also, get me a detailed report of how many Dlarit military survivors are left behind. We won't have enough room for them all, no doubt, so we'll need to organize them into a resistance group with the local Selenian one."

"As you wish, sir." Replied Cresh as he peaked out around a corner at the final exit from the Citadel. After a few moments passed by and the communications channels cleared up he turned to face his Viceroy. "Sir, there are two larties left on planet and both VT-49 Decimators. The Colonel reports that due to some severe losses we should be able to get everyone left behind off on those ships."

"And?" Asked Astronicus, he could tell by the tone of voice that Cresh was holding something back and not wanting to relay it.

"And a full platoon compliment will have to wait for evac or find another way off planet." Replied the commando. "Sir, they won't last that long against the Vong. Request permission to stay behind and lead them."

"Request denied, Captain." Informed Astronicus sternly, "I know you don't want to see those men lost any more than I, but we need to make sure that our forces aren't wasted. The platoon will rally with the local Selenian defenders that Arcona will no doubt leave behind. They'll be fine until we can extract them at a later time." Astronicus really did not share the same sympathy for those troops as Cresh, but it was better for a commander to show he cared about his men to their faces than make them believe they were nothing more than the fodder they were. "Now, tell me, how far is the closest vessel to us?"

"There is a VT-49 at the spaceport, we can probably find a landspeeder nearby and commandeer it to get us there in time." Answered Cresh.

"Very, well, let's go speeder shopping gentlemen." Ordered Astronicus.

The foursome moved out, slinking from building to building, lurking in the shadows as they made their way through the city on foot toward the spaceport, always on the lookout for a landspeeder. It was the Krath priestess who spotted one first. It was an older dilapidated model, but it would do for the four of them. Dorn took the helm and bent over as he attempted to "hotwire" it. Astronicus took the seat next to him while Cresh and the priestess took the back seats. Soon the purr of the repulsors could be heard and the craft lifted off the ground and with the touch of the throttle they were off.

They made their way through the city without much contact with the enemy, Cresh picked off a few here and there with his sniper rifle but for the most part their trip was uneventful. The city was in ruins and now the Vong had begun their full assault on the spaceport. The Dlarit regulars had been replaced by Selenians who would see to it that they made it to their designated evac vessels. Dorn pulled the landspeeder up near the brigade command tent of Colonel Damian Voss. The group dismounted the vehicle, the commandos standing guard at the speeder while Astronicus and the priestess entered to get a full report from the surface commander himself.

After Voss laid it out for them, Astronicus gave the final order for all forces to evacuate, there only being a few left in the command tent that had not boarded their transports. His group made their way to the nearest, a VT-49 Decimator. it was a heavily armed Imperial transport that had gone through many revisions and modifications, making it one of the Galaxy's more feared Imperial warships.

Decimators were used as either long-range reconnaissance units or picket ships stationed along the perimeter of Imperial fleets. Sometimes Decimators were used to break through enemy forces to deploy raiding parties. This one served as an escort to the Final Way along with it's twin and had landed on Selen to deploy troops en mass. Astronicus boarded and made his way to the cramped bridge, taking a standing position next to the captain's chair.

The two VT-49s and two LAAT/i transports lifted off and made their way toward the darker side of the planet, hoping to leave in the shadow of Selen to avoid detection and confrontation with any Yuuzhan Vong warships.

The Argnok
Near the Arcona Headquarters
Selen, Dajorra System

Malisane sat in the cockpit of the freighter watching through the portside window as the line of furry creatures marched up the ramp into the cargo pod. He could also see Imgormiel stood outside watching. He spun around as Ylith entered the cockpit. "Vexatus has found himself a cabin and Krenth is stood outside. Mac is checking out your stores. The journeymen are in the rest area. We nearly ready I don't want a dozen coral skippers taking an interest."
"Nearly," Malisane replied, the stream of ewoks outside was dwindling, "it takes a while to load and store three hundred of them."
"I never understood why you brought them?" Ylith asked.
Malisane shrugged I had an idea, it's mute now we're bailing out. Next stop the Final Way then back to Orian."
"Good stuff." Ylith replied.
Imgormiel entered the cockpit. "They are onboard master." he said taking a seat.
"Activate the cryogenics," Malisane ordered.
The zabrak pressed a button, and a display began to hum as the temperature gauge begin to drop, going well below freezing. "Alright we got three hundred heartbeats, they're ready."
Malisane nodded. "Seal the hatches and take us up."

The Dajorra System

The Argnok left the atmosphere, Imgormiel guiding it onto the co ordinates Krenth had delivered from his master.
"You sure they coming?" Imgormiel asked.
"They should be," Malisane replied, "they'll re-enter on the edge of the system."
The display lit up, and a second later the immense bulk of a Republic Class Star Destroyer filled the view screen. It was an awesome sight.
Malisane hailed them. "Argnok to Final Way, this is Prefect Malisane de Ath requesting docking clearance."
There was a pause. "You have clearance Prefect, we have you in a tractor lock disengage your engines and we'll bring you into the main hangar."
Imgormiel nodded and a few seconds later they were drawn inside.
"Make sure the Ewoks are safely sealed I don't want them rioting through the ship." Malisane said drily getting to his feet once they'd touched down on the deck.

Agrist was waiting at the bottom of the ramp as Malisane strode down it. He glanced as without a word Vexatus and Krenth strode past and out of the hangar. "You're welcome," Malisane muttered. He focused on the mercenary. "Nice of you to run off and leave us."
Agrist shrugged. "Not my decision, the Commisaar authority thing doesn't work when the Governor General is onboard I'm not arguing with Trevarus. Anyway you had your ship and your ewok hordes. Where's the Overlord?" he asked noticing Macron, Ylith and the journeymen leaving.
"He stayed down there," Malisane asked, "like you I don't ask questions."
Agrist nodded. "Very well," he replied, "I'll get you a beer in."
Malisane turned to Imgormiel who was stood nearby. "Get the Argnok back to Kangaras, I'll contact you from Lor Zatean when we return."
Imgormiel looked disapointed to be leaving but nodded. "Very well Master."

Dajorra System; Planet Selen's Orbit
Republic-Class Star Destroyer Final Way

The Valheru moved with a quick pace through the halls of the ship, he had seen a glance
of Xathia while he was still in the Hangar. Though it was only for a brief moment when the
two of them locked gazes, she knew if his plans and couldnt help but to grin knowing the
hour drawed near. The Sith moved into an elevator, Darth Vexatus following closely behind
him and as they were going up, silence grabbed both of them.

Tension between the two has risen ever since the Battle of Telos, although at the moment
they had a common enemy, and even though both of them had entirely different reasons,
a truce was struck in order to devour their common enemy within the darkness of death.

The Sith Lord's lips curled as the moment of truth drew near, and suddenly he felt a flicker
in the Force that cought his attention, something was hidden from his gaze yet he could not
clearly pick out what it was, like a small sound within a loud static. The Falleen eyed the
Valheru standing next to him. The only reason he was still alive was because he needed him
to eleminate their common enemy, other than that he was just as unsignificant as the next
Dark Jedi.

The doors whizzed open and both Sith moved onto the Command deck. Vexatus lingered for
a moment and then moved his hand up and all the men suddenly shook their heads for a
moment and then continued their work like nothing was wrong.

"Sir Atema, you were relieved from your position..." Rear-Admiral Simonetti said and before
he could finish his sentence the blade of the Battlemaster was already at his throat.

"You will not question me Admiral - The Sith said, removing the blade and sheathing it
again - Now, arm all our long range weaponry and target the Arconan Citadel."

The Admiral wanted to comment that this would be treason, but before he could do so, the
Falleen waved his hand and the Rear-Admiral froze a moment, then nodded.

"You heard the man, arm al long range weapons and target the Citadel!" The Admiral said and
Ylith couldnt help but to smirk. "Lock the bridge off to anyone, nobody should be coming in
or out. Now...open a link to the Citadel...it's time for Arcona to surrender what is left of their
pitiful Clan..."

The Battlemaster's lips curled as his plans finally came into fruition, the Sith Lord behind him
smirking like he was for the same reasons among others. While the weapons were getting armed
and aimed at the Citadel, the Valheru returned to his thoughts.

"I am the Scorpion....and defiance is in my Nature..."

Outer Trench, Citadel
Selen

The diseased Vong didn’t stop coming. More and more half-dead warriors poured from the tree line in an uncoordinated assault and were cut down by the E-Web emplacements or snipers, however they were fast running out of ammunition. Juda cut another dying warrior in half with his own shielded E-Web and grimaced as numerous thud bugs bounced off the shield, causing it to shimmer – the shimmering effect lit him up like a sun. He didn’t like this as shiny things often attracted fire, but could do little about it now. The inner trench had yet to see any hard contact, however the outer trench would soon need to fall back simply because they would run out of shots to fire at the crazed masses.

“Corporal!” one of the troopers called to Juda and pointed across the killing field. Clambering over the bodies of the fallen vong were something the Mandalorian hadn’t expected to see at all: they looked vaguely like Rodians, however they’d definitely been vong-formed.

“Vagh Rodiek. Prepare for close quarters!”

This was definitely about to get dirty.

-=[]=-

The chosen meeting place was the last refuge of the Caste Leaders in Estle City, designed specifically for just such an eventuality. Deep in the catacombs of the Church of Abyssal Order, it was a fully functional war room and it was thus far hidden away, undiscovered by the far outsiders.

Sashar, Zandro and the squad of Tactical Assault Marines arrived at the church via the rooftops, choosing to sneak through a now smashed stained glass window and hop from rafter to rafter to gain a better idea of the scene below. Vong warriors were sacking most of the lower levels and had already killed most of the intendants.

“The antechamber is clear for the moment, sir.” Reported Malay, the Marine Sergeant from over by one of the maintenance terminals for the cleaning droids by a rafter and Sashar nodded, glancing over in the direction of the antechamber’s doors from the main hall. Vong were scattered about the place, barking out orders to one another in that harsh guttural tongue- however there were mercifully few. They’d be able to make it with a distraction.

“Sergeant, I’d like the west wing of the building to collapse.” The Proconsul said crisply and prepared to jump the 15 meters to the ground.

Malay ran through a series of hand signals and two of the commandos broke off from the group, hopping from rafter to rafter until they reached the western wall’s support beams. They had the demolition charge planted and armed in under twenty seconds and a further eight seconds after that were back with the small team of Arcona’s elite.

“Do it.”

The wall exploded outwards, spraying rubble everwhere and the entire western side of the main hall was bathed in smog, flames and masonry. With a shudder, the tower directly above telescoped down, further wrecking the once pristine place of worship.

Sashar and Zandro hopped down and easily handled the fall, however the commandoes each descended using a zip line and immediately formed a perimeter around the brothers. Fortunately, the Vong not caught directly in the blast were now rushing towards the explosion to ascertain what had caused it.

With a pair of hand movements, Malay sent his team on into the ante-chamber.

-=[]=-

The Citadel shook once more and Mejas grimaced despite himself. The Vong had overrun the outer trench with the Vagh Rodiek and were now giving hell to the second trench – despite the combined efforts of the Palace guard, Soulfire’s leadership and the reinforcements from Torbai Garrison, the Citadel was fighting a losing battle.

“Fetch the Abyssal Tome from my chambers.” Mejas commanded one of his attendants, and the priest nodded curtly before hurrying off. He sat in the throne, tactical displays surrounding him and the ever-present Malidir at his shoulder and realised that the battle was lost. The Citadel was lost. Arcona was lost. It was sobering to realise one’s own mortality, and in a way it granted the Shadow Lord the will to summon his last real surprise for the Far Outsiders. They weren’t the only ones that harnessed living weapons.

-=[]=-

Kieran’s heart fell as he watched the Vagh Rodiek overrun the inner trench. They’d be upon the Citadel in moments, and no amount of ordinance could dissuade them.

“Trigger the charges, let’s see if we can catch a few in the trenches.”

“Some of our men are still down there sir, including two of your own teammates.” The attaché reminded, but Kieran pierced him with a glare.

“Right away, sir.” He quickly backpedalled and depressed the detonation button. The ground shook and the two trenches became walls of rapidly expanding flame, cutting twin rings into the vong formation.

Over the din of the AT-TE’s main cannons, the Turbolaser turrets opening up and the shouted orders of the Palace guard, he then heard a sound that chilled him to the core. It was a roar, a screech and an audio manifestation of pain incarnate and it was designed to startle pray instantly. It worked. From behind him, high up on the ziggurat two slabs rolled back and a pair of massive beasts flew from their cages. They were easily twenty meters from head to tail and had a wingspan that almost doubled that. A pair of legs let them move on the land and a beak looked powerful enough to rend the meat off a rancor. They were vaguely reptilian and the Sergeant had only seen them once before, when he’d gone hunting in the swamps of the Venku Range on Arconae Primus: Krite Dragons.

With deadly intent they launched themselves at the vong lines and tore into them, shredding the Vagh Rodiek with a swipe of their talon’ed claws or a lightning fast peck from those vicious beasts. Their movements were so co-ordinated that only one could possibly have been controlling them within the clan – the Consul. This was obviously his last resort, unleashed as a surprise weapon on whoever was foolish enough to test their steel against the obsidian walls of the Clan Arcona Citadel.

He let out a whoop of delight and surged excitement through the force, emboldening the men about him. Morale subtly shifted in Arcona’s favour as the dragon duo levelled the playing field and took command of the sky.

-=[]=-

The Conclave was smaller than he had hoped. The Executor of the Capac Caste was commanding the ground forces from Torbai Garrison and the Huascar Caste Sage had been caught in the initial assault. The Sinchi CEO and High Priest of the Abyssal Order were all that were left.

“Gentlemen, Selen is in all probability lost. The Vong just number too many – and we can’t possibly evacuate the civilians. We’re going to have to accept Yuuzhan Vong rule for the time being. With hopes, they’ll enslave the population rather than slaughter everyone – so we want you to prepare the population for such an eventuality.”

“How can we ‘prepare’ a population to be enslaved?” Demanded the Sinchi CEO demanded and Sashar privately had to quell down the surge of irony – Mejas had turned the entire population of the Dajorra system into a fanatic band of followers completely committed to Arcona’s prosperity through a brutal application of the Force and the Serpentine throne – an act that damn near killed him in the process. However, the next change in rulers and ideals for the natives of Dajorra would be a lot more jarring.

“Gather the people underground in the catacombs so they’re safe from the initial assaults. Once the fighting is over, offer yourselves to the invaders and comply with their wishes. We’ll fight them off when we have the manpower, but right now the Military have to evacuate. Just make sure every single last citizen knows that we will be back; it’s just a matter of time.” Sashar answered, knowing full well how hollow his words would sound.

“Very well. It seems we have no other choice.” The High Priest replied, looking deeply troubled. Sashar could hardly blame him.

“Oh, and gentlemen, I’d advise keeping your rank and status hidden to the Vong – they’ll probably look to kill the leaders so as to demonstrate their authority.” The Mandalorian advised as they all stood from the table. An explosion shook the walls of the hidden chamber once more and the comlink came to life. Captain Malay was obviously in combat as he was speaking.

“They’ve found us! We can’t hold them for long!” His voice cut off again and the Proconsul spared a look at Zandro.

The two bolted from the room, ascended the ladder and burst through the floor of the ante-chamber with a cursory blast from Sashar’s LJ-50 conk rifle. Two sabers slashed through the murk kicked up by the blast and the vong were dispatched in a quick but bloody engagement. Less than a minute later it was over. Three of the commandos were dead, another was wounded leaving the squad at half strength.

“Leave me, sir. I always wanted to go out with a bang.” The demolitions expert said, straining to keep his voice even. His injury was obviously not a survivable one. Malay nodded, lay a hand briefly on his shoulder as a display of brotherhood, then gestured for his men to depart.

The streets were less rife with fire now that the Vong had moved on the spaceport. In the shell of what had once been an apartment building the Larty was hidden perfectly and the small party reached it without incident.

“Our destination?” The pilot asked as he powered up the engines once more.

“The Citadel.”

-=[]=-

The journey was quick and quiet – the LAAT/i’s engines pushed past recommended maximums in an effort to get the Shadow Scion to his master that bit quicker, and all too soon they were approaching the battlefield. The force was rife with anger, pain, bitter defeat, faltering resilience and outrage – and desperation. The sensation of desperation was more localised however, it was from a familiar source – Juda Erinos. Both brothers felt it at the same time and Sashar winched. Zandro sent him a scathing look as the proconsul kept quiet and called to the pilot.

“Put us down by that outer trench! We have to extract a wounded soldier.”

“Belay that, Pilot! Carry on to the Citadel.” Sashar countered and turned to face his brother’s explosion.

“What?! He’ll die, Sashar!”

“He’s one man. The Consul is the leader of this entire system and the only hope that we can take it back. We have to ensure his safety.”

“If he was an Arconae you’d save him.” Zandro snarled and stabbed his hand out at Sashar’s chest, telekinetically shoving his former master, half-brother and closest friend from the Larty. With a further surge of force energy, he jumped after him.

Sashar recovered admirably and landed on his feet. About him were wounded or dead and the brave few still valiantly trying to hold off the vong hordes, but the arrival of two dark jedi into their midst, literally dropping from the sky was a welcome boost to the morale of the few still standing. Juda wasn’t among them.

“Di’kutla mir’osik.”” Sashar spat as he went for his saber.

Zandro was faster. With fury in his eyes, he stabbed the activator stud and charged his brother who was barely able to get his amber blade up in a high guard that barely stopped the crimson blade from splitting his head in two. He bought himself some space by planting a foot squarely in Zandro’s stomach, knocking him to the ground and adopted a defensive posture, but the Quaestor was having none of it. Shunting the force through him, he turned the fall into a back roll and was up on his feet a half-second later.

“Dar’manda chakaar!” Zandro retorted as he swung a brutally simple horizontal slash at his brother, who was again able to parry the blow – but wasn’t expecting Zandro’s forehead to slam into his nose.

Sashar staggered back and swiped his nose with his sleeve, but no blood was there – it hadn’t connected properly. Before he could settle into his signature defence Zandro was all over him again, slamming his red blade against Sashar’s indomitable defence time and time again. He simply couldn’t match his brother’s fury and shouted out in surprise when the red blade sliced through the emitter of his lightsaber, extinguishing Fraternity. Instead of landing a killing blow, Zandro punched his stunned brother in the face, flooring him.

“Tion gar cuyir Erinos?” Zandro demanded, his throat raw – this was the core of the issue, the war just a background for him.

“Udesii, ner vod. Ni troan or’dinii solus. Werda’Mejas kyram haar’rinos meh ni shabiir. Ni hukaatirla Erinos, vod’ika.” Sashar explained, hoping that Zandro would catch onto what he was planning.

“You shouldn’t have turned your back on us. We could’ve helped you.” Zandro said, looking on his brother with utter disgust. This was the second time he’d downed his master in combat and was losing respect for him by the second.

Sashar snapped. His lightsaber was more than just an expertly-crafted weapon – it was a symbol of him of his loyalty to his brothers. It was the only symbol he had left displaying his allegiance to his family – the one thing Mejas hadn’t asked of him (due in large part to the Zabrak not knowing the full significance of the weapon to his apprentice) and one of the few people the weapon symbolised had just destroyed it.

He drew his SSK-7 pistol from the hip and fired whilst still on his back. As he expected, the first three shots were rebounded away, but the Proconsul kept his hands steady and shifted his aim higher and higher with each of the first trio, drawing Zandro’s guard higher and higher so that when he loosed the fourth shot at his brother’s hip, he couldn’t bring the saber down in time. The bolt burned into his leg and Sashar was up. He covered the short distance between them in no time and had punched Zandro in the temple before the Battlemaster had time to recover, knocking him out cold.

It was then that he looked up and realised that a circle of Vagh Rodiek and Yuuzhan Vong had formed around him, watching in confusion and awe.

“Osik.”

-=[]=-

Mejas grimaced. His apprentice had let himself lose sight of his surroundings, and now was utterly surrounded – worse, he was virtually without weapon. He twisted the minds of the two Krite Dragons, now mere extensions of his will and flung them towards the Shadow Scion. They swept in and tore at the Vagh Rodiek and Vong nearing his successor and Sashar didn’t waste time in taking aim with his pistol and firing indiscriminately at the advancing swarm but it was a mere delaying tactic – he’d be overrun in seconds.

Malidir stirred. “M’lord, we could divert a LAAT/i to extract the Proconsul if we hurry…” he suggested, worry evident on his face.

“Do it.” Mejas commanded. He felt the tendrils of pain reach out over the telepathic bond he’d formed with one of the creatures as it was dragged down by countless Vagh Rodiek and swarmed over, the four legged beasts tearing at its wings and hide even as the death throes of the mighty beast killed more and more of their number.

-=[]=-

The arrival of the two Krite Dragons was a welcome surprise, but a short-lived one. They were only two, and the Vagh Rodiek numbered many, many more. He fired shot after shot at the advancing adversaries, downing no less than 7 before they got too close, then dropped his favoured pistol, yanking the Sapphire blade from its sheath by his left flank and dived at the nearest of them, shouting “Gar shab’ika!” as he went and drove the blade into the beast’s neck, landing bodily on it. He dragged the blade out and shoved it into the abdomen of the beast coming in behind him and received a slash across his back for his efforts. It wasn’t deep: he ignored it. The blade was whipped around once more and caught the neck of an opportunistic Yuuzhan Vong Warrior (more through luck than design), but the amphistaff landed a bite. He felt the poison start to slip into his veins and grimaced. He now had a time limit.

20 hours of laboured breathing and excrutiating pain before I die unless I can detox. Wonderful. he couldn’t help but think to himself as he planted the blade into the skull of another Rodiek beast.

There was a distinctive red light cast across the scene and Sashar thought that oddly dramatic for his own death – he didn’t remember being fatally struck, however that thrum was unmistakable: a lightsaber.

Through the melee, hacking with grim tenacity was Juda Erinos. His armour was pitted and broken, the gaps offering various cuts and slashes and his face was bruised badly, but his eyes were as angry as Sashar had ever seen them. In his hands was Zandro’s lightsaber and he was determined to reach his former master.

In a matter of seconds, they were back to back, each defending Zandro’s downed form from the onslaught knowing full well that they probably wouldn’t survive. It was only when they’d lost all hope and Sashar received another amphistaff bite to his shoulder that there was a green line of death and hope cut through the Vagh Rodiek. A further pair of missiles slammed into the ground of the densest pocket of Vong and from above came down the Larty Sashar and Zandro had used to get from Estle city. Captain Malay and his 3 other troops hopped down as soon as the transport neared the ground and opened fire indiscriminately. A gunner from the craft jumped down and picked up Zandro’s unconscious form whilst Sashar and Juda were able to make it onto the deck. Only one other commando fell before Malay and his men were able to make it back on board and they were able to take off once more. The LAAT/i circled about the battlefield once more as it gained altitude and the Proconsul watched helplessly as the second Krite Dragon was dragged down by the swarms of Vagh Rodiek clawing at its wings and at its throat.

-=[]=-

2 Hours Later,
Citadel Throne Room
Selen
Dajorra System

Sashar looked like he’d been through the wars. He was bandaged up on his shoulder and back and was apparently unarmed save for the Sapphire Blade that was not easily visible due to him wearing a long grey outer cloak and keeping it behind him. Juda was worse, but he hid it well, determined not to show his weakness to the Consul.

Zandro had regained consciousness and was now looking introspective – he’d lost it and nearly killed both himself and his brother, and subsequently his brother had shot him then defended his downed form from a relentless horde of beasts: Mandalorian honour was convoluted and confusing, but it was clear that Sashar still held some form of it: he hadn’t abandoned his brothers out of some misguided lust for power, but in all probability to protect them from Mejas: he’d said as much out on the battlefield. It required time and solitude to decipher, and they had neither.

Kieran came into the Throne room looking grim.

“They breached the Citadel walls. We sealed off the lower levels and reckon it’ll hold them for a little while, but it doesn’t look good. I estimate that the Citadel will fall within the hour.”

“We’ve lost, Lord Consul.” Sashar said quietly.

“Dajorra has fallen, but we can still save the fleet!” Illian urged, and a few others nodded.

“Where are the Sadowans?” Mejas queried, stretching out into the force once more to try and ferret out their presence in his citadel.

“They departed a short time ago – rats out of a sinking ship.” Kieran answered, looking bitter. A few elders would’ve probably been able to stave off the onslaught for almost a day, giving them chance to organise a proper evacuation.

“Then we must be hot on their heels – Proconsul, arrange us transport from the Citadel.”

Sashar nodded and pulled out a comlink, talking quietly into it whilst Mejas turned back to the others.

“We will leave shortly – the Citadel has fallen, but Arcona will never, ever fall.” He intoned, raising his head so that the hood no longer obscured his eyes. It sent a chill down each of the chamber’s occupants.

“Osik! Those di’kutla hut’uun are targeting the Citadel!” Juda cried as the status displays updated, now displaying the Final Way shifting it’s course to orbitally bombard the Citadel.

Mejas whirled around, his hood falling in the process, revealing a mask of true, unadulterated rage.

“They’re comming us.” Malidir reported.

“Sashar, order the Abyss to Target their bridge and have the gunships move into ramming position.” Mejas ordered and his Proconsul nodded, speaking quietly and urgently into his comlink.

“Mejas Doto. Your clan is lost, we are your only hope for salvation – you were a fool to trust the scorpions on your back and it will cost you and your entire clan their lives if you do not surrender to me.” Ylith Atema’s voice was unmistakable.

“I will see to it that you die for this, and make no mistake – it will be slow, agonising and ignoble.” The Consul promised, his voice deadly quiet.

“You will not back down?” Ylith asked one last time, the smug delight in a well-planned victory dancing through his voice.

“Arcona will never kneel to a mundane forsaken by the force and untrusted even by his own clanmates.” Mejas bit back, the deadly certainty in his voice a perfect foil for the Valheru.

“You should’ve taken the chance I ga-ugh!” There was an abrupt gagging sound and a brief scuffed metallic sound, followed by the thud of a body collapsing.

“Consul Mejas Doto, I apologise for that and promise you that we do not wish your surrender…at this time.” Ashia Keibatsu, Consul of Naga Sadow’s voice came over the comlink and the relief in the throne room was palpable.

“Consider the debt repayed.” Trevarus added, sounding preoccupied – he was probably staring down Vexatus.

The comm. channel closed and Sashar gestured for the stairs near the rear of the temple.

“The Valour’s Fall is meeting us on the roof. We have to hurry, but I’m guessing Vong forces will be between here and there. The Consul must be defended. Soulfire: do your job.” He ordered, producing his sapphire blade.


OOC:

I’m extending the RO until Sunday – it’s been a hell of a ride people and I’d just like to thank everyone who got involved: we made quite a story. I’m keeping it open over the weekend so we can get some conclusions in. I’ll be posting again on Sunday night.

Arcona: anyone with the Consul’s party, do NOT let us leave from the roof – there’s a climactic conclusion incoming and we need to be there. Other than that, have fun with your last posts guys and I’ll try and get the results out as soon as possible next week.

Thanks again!

Republic-class Star Destroyer Final Way
Special Operations Flagship
Selen Orbit, Dajorra System

The bridge crew stared idly at their stations as they complied unquestioningly with Ylith Atema’s orders. Their memories blank, minds torn by the twisted sorceries of the Sith Lord lurking in the shadows near the back of the command deck. Throughout the Star Destroyer, crewmen responded to the instructions of Admiral Simonetti, unknowingly playing into the hands of a madman. Blind to the fact they were about to become complicit in an act of war against the Brotherhood itself.

Time for the hammer to fall, thought Darth Vexatus.

The Falleen waved his hand in the Valheru’s direction and Ylith began issuing further orders to Araic Simonetti. Sith he may have been, but with his connection to the Force severed, Ylith was but a pawn in a game far bigger than himself. He could not begin to realise that his actions would spark a war between two Clans, distracting them from the true game being played that very moment in the Temple of the Void back on Sepros.

The end is at hand.

“Admiral, charge all long range batteries, tell them they have five minutes to respond or we will open fire and burn their Citadel to the ground,” instructed Ylith.

Araic Simonetti complied with his orders unthinking.

They waited.

After five minutes, Ylith’s face curled into a tight grin. He had never intended for them to respond. He knew Arcona well enough to know the Shadow Lord would not so much as give the Valheru the pleasure to hear him grovel.

“It would seem they are not taking our threats seriously, Admiral,” said Ylith. “You may fire when ready. Give them something to let them know we mean...”

Before the Valheru could finish the order the turbolift doors burst open, heavy durasteel buckling as it was latterly torn from its fixings. The thick plate flew across the bridge, crashing through one of the holo-consoles and burying several junior officers.

The man who emerged from the broken entrance did not look amused. His eyes crackled with energy, an ebon staff held in his outstretched hand where he thumbed a button near its tip, emitting a gold blade of energy.

This was not the Jedgar Octavius Paladin they were familiar with. The man who sat in his study puffing on an elaborate pipe. This was the former Dark Lord of the Sith come to prevent a war from befalling his kingdom.

“What is the meaning of this?” spat the old man, not raising his voice, but his words still managing to thunder in the Valheru’s ears. Paladin looked around the bridge. “What sorcery?”

Ylith Atema had turned from the Admiral the moment the turbolift had burst inward. He had reflexively reached for his sword but realised long before the Sith Lord had entered that there was nothing he could do against one so powerful.

Ylith turned his head, looking for Darth Vexatus, desperate to scream at the top of his voice that he had been but an unwitting pawn, manipulated in one of the Falleen’s games. But where the Valheru hoped to find the Prophet he saw only air, the Sith Lord somehow having left the room. Ylith cursed under his breath. Vexatus had surely sensed Paladin’s approach and abandoned him.

“Vexatus!” cried Ylith. “It was Vexatus!”

Paladin stormed across the bridge, his eyes staring blind fury at the Valheru. “I see no other here, child.”

Child. With any other Ylith would have spat something back. Before the Sith Lord, all he could do was bow his head and pray for mercy. “I was manipulated. He must have brainwashed me like he did the others.”

Paladin looked around the room, staring at the officers who were still diligently performing their duties. He waved a hand and instantly a gasp of shock went up throughout the command deck as officers turned and stared at the Sith Lord holding his ignited blade at the Valheru’s throat.

“Why should I not kill you for your weakness?”

“I can serve,” said Ylith. “I can help you take revenge.”

Paladin laughed and closed down his lightsaber. “Why should I see revenge?”

Ylith stared, confused. Surely the Sith Lord would want Vexatus killed for his treachery?

Paladin shook his head. “You have much to learn, young one. That one is better left to consume himself. Death would be a mercy to one such as him.”

It was half true. Death would be a mercy. But Paladin also had to deal with the realities of the situation. Caerick and Vexatus effectively controlled the Dlarit Navy, noone had any real idea what hidden conditioning they had bred into those clones. To move against them would mean to start a war. Right now, the Brotherhood could not suffer a war on two fronts with the battle against the Yuuzhan Vong ongoing. No, there were far better ways to destroy those two.

Ylith wrestled with the thought but understood. “I... think I understand, my lord.”

“Now leave,” instructed Paladin. “I will deal with the mess you have created.”

Ylith left, leaving Jedgar Octavius Paladin to his thoughts. It was clear the pair must have been nearing their goals, for Vexatus would not have acted so openly otherwise. Paladin knew what must be done. He could not allow Caerick and Vexatus to continue their games further.

Once they returned to Sepros, he would do as they asked.

The sooner those two destroyed each other the better.

Dajorra System
Selen Orbit

Zaxen pushed his strange craft to its limits. Sweat began to fall freely as the tension of combat rose. He was in a bad position. Three to one and more enemies all around him. The strange craft all the while seemed to be nudging him to some end but he could not focus enough to understand what the Vardorian craft was trying to get him to do. Only a subtle nudge in the Force which seemed to radiate from the ship itself.

Volleys of molten rock fire zoomed past his canopy as the corral skippers tried to close for their kill. Zaxen felt his adrenaline surge and his body ache as he once again pulled off another high speed, high torque manuever to shake his assailants. With each pull of his controls the ship seemed to nudge him a little harder as if to say "Listen to me!" Zaxen shook his head violently to keep it clear. In a flash of insight he threw his stick forward as another Yuuzhan Vong shot flew passed over head.

Zaxen corkscrewed to throw off the inevitable second attack and pulled hard again and found himself in a tight one circle, turning, fight with two of the three craft on his tail. He kept pulling adjusting his throttle as necessary to keep the tightest turn possible and pulled his nose through his first target for a near perfect leading shot. This time he poured the Force through his body and centered it on his trigger finger and caused it to tap the trigger as rapidly as possible trying to cause a staccato fire with his lasers to overwhelm the dovin bassal defense. It worked only to an extent as most of the laser energy was pulled into the miniature black holes. Two hits scored however but it was not enough to destroy the craft.

Just as Zaxen completed the technique the ship almost screamed at him through the Force and then suddendly it came to him what to do. Focusing into the core of the ship, Zaxen poured his connection with the Force into it and in a flash his eyes were no longer just his. He could "see" in a spherical sense as if he had eyes all over the hull of his ship as it responded to Zaxen's link. He understood now why the Vardorian fighter seemed so arcane and unsophisticated, it didn't need the various advanced technologies as it was designed for the Force sensitive elite of Vardorian nobility. This insight opened up a whole world of possibilities.

The ship while not conscious seemed to understand what it was Zaxen wanted done. In return Zaxen could feel the ship changing its functions internally to suit his needs. Just as Zaxen once again pulled his nose ahead of one the coral skippers he pulled his trigger and the studder fire he had tried to artifically create earlier now shot forth and just as several hit struck the Yuuzhan Vong hull the laser fire switched to full power and lanced through the its target. Zaxen smirked at the turn of events.

It did not take much for Zaxen to finish off his other two adversaries and continue on to his destination on Selen where Ashura, Jade and his bretheren were waiting. The strange ship then began to feed information to him. He could feel that the battle had suddendly changed and the visions of his Force hibernation huanted him again.

Once again the game of Wizards and Kings plays out. He thought to himself.
The ship seemed to respond to this as it began to pour on more speed with out being coaxed. A flight path was drawn before him and a detailed discription of the area where his comrades were drawn out before him by the ship.

As he entered the Selenian atmosphere, Zaxen felt the very concerned pull on his mind from his mistress. Though there were no words the overwhelming sense he felt was simple, Is my son safe? Zaxen smiled inwardly and sent a wave of warm reassurance to Jade and a vision of his success. Within a heart beat his skin tingled as Jade responded with overwhelming gratitude. It was something he had never felt come from his mistress who was normally somewhat cold and even brutal in her methods of training. It was both exhilarating and strange to him.

Minutes later the craft had picked out a suitable place to land near what the ship told him was The Huascar Temple. As Zaxen pulled off his flight gear and grabbed the Medusa sword he lept down from his craft and sealed it. Using the Force to guide him he made his way to where Ashura was standing atop a small raised platform seeming to be surveying the situation even if his view of the scene was nothing to be desired.

Ashura Isradia turned his head slowly to acknowledge Zaxen. It was a few moments before he spoke. " It seems our situation has changed yet again. It looks as if the Arconans are betrayed as are some of us. Our forces are pulling out." Zaxen stayed silent as his Primarch continued.
" Makes one wonder why we came here at all."

"Zaxen, everyone is in the atrium of the temple. Collect them up as best you can. We are getting off this dung heap."

Zaxen bowed low "As you wish Primarch." and turned to enter the Temple.

The Final Way
Dajorra System
Selen Orbit

Malisane sat in his quarters, sat back in the steel padded chair drinking a glass of deep red wine. He was frustrated. Any gain to coming on this mission had been lost with the forced evacuation of Vexatus and the others. The ewoks were on their way back to Kangaras, and he was stuck here while the fleet recalled it's ground troops. He sighed. Another wasted aventure. He reached for the datapad and clicked on his messages, waiting for the codes to decipher. Profit reports, sales figures, crime levels on Lor Zatean. It was all junk, six months ago it meant something. He deleted them without reading.

He sat thinking morosely, and drained his glass with a gulp. Finally he clicked on the datapad again, recording a message. He took a deep breath and spoke. "This is a message to the commander of the forces in Sector K240. Have considered your offer and am extremily interested in accepting. I have some loose ends to tie up here, and will join you in two months time. Regards, Mr Var." He clicked the send button, where it would be encrypted and relayed across the galaxy via the commercial networks to the recipient. He poured himself another glass and spun the chair around ninety degrees, and stared out into space quietly.

VT-49 Decimator serving as Viceroy-1
Selen Orbit
Dajorra System
"The Final Way has taken up an orbit around Selen, once again, sir." Informed the pilot of the larty to Astronicus Aurelius Sadow, Viceroy of the Dlarit Corporation. "Shall I set course?"

"Yes and make haste, it won't be long before those accursed Vong find us and send their minions after us." Growled Astronicus. He was in a fowl mood because of the outcome of this entire mission. Everyone had shown their true colors in this entire extravaganza. He'd known better to than to aid the Arconans, but what is a Sith Empire without servants. Had the Vong wiped them out then another of the clans would be next, then another and another until the Brotherhood was so far fractured that the very thought of a Sith Empire would be foolhardy. "Inform them of my arrival."

"Final Way, this is Viceroy-1 on approach." Began the pilot. "Requesting permission to land. We are carrying survivors, troops and the Viceroy."

"Viceroy-1, please transmit authorization codes. Landing permission will be granted upon confirmation of transmission."

"Confirmed Final Way, beginning transmission now." The pilot keyed in the code sequence given him by Astronicus and waited a few moments while the security checks were taken on the Viceroy's authorization codes.

"Transmission successful, you may begin your approach now, Viceroy-1." Ordered the traffic control officer.

The VT-49 made its way forward, it's small convoy following close behind. It entered the hangar, followed closely by the other VT-49 and the two LAAT/i transports. Setting down on the cold metal surface it disengaged systems and went to stand-by mode. The ramp lowered and Astronicus, followed closely by his twin DACs, exited first. There was no welcoming committee, he didn't expect one when the ship was on high alert, and no honor guard - not that he needed one either. The krath priestess whom'd been tagging along for sometime now, followed not far behind them either. They made their way to the nearest lift-tube and were on their way to the bridge.

Moments later they arrived, via several other lifts, and exited near the rear of the bridge. Astronicus noticed the minor damage throughout the bridge from their battle with the Vong destroyers, as well as some internal damage which could have only been caused by a strong force. He saw that very strong force at once, Lord Paladin. He'd once served with him as an Archon when Paladin had been the Justicar of the Brotherhood. Apparently something had happened in the Overlord's absence. He noticed Ylith standing before the Grand Master, his head bowed - whether out of respect or for failure he was not sure. It did not matter, Paladin was watching over things now and Astronicus had entrusted him with that - a fail safe for any who would mettle with the clan's affairs while he was not present.

"Lord Paladin," said Astronicus, taking a small bow showing respect for the Grand Master, "we are honored you chose to accompany us and oversee matters aboard the Final Way."

"Lord Sadow,"acknowledged Paladin, referring to him with the title that Grand Master Justinian Khyron had granted him ages ago. "I do nothing but that of my own accord, you may be thankful I am here to watch your Sons and Disciples, but never forget that I am here because I will it and no one else."

The Star Chamber might say otherwise, thought Astronicus, he knew the real reason behind Paladin's being joining the clan, Master Yoni had been willing to divulge that little bit with him. "But of course m'lord," he retorted.

Turning to Admiral Simonetti he assumed the role of Viceroy once again and began giving orders. "Once all of our ships are aboard, make way for the Orian system, Admiral. We don't want to waste any more time needless time here. The Arconans can fend for their own surivavl, we've given them the leeway they needed to escape."

"As you wish my lord." Replied Araic Simonetti. He likewise turned and began distributing the Viceroy's orders throughout the bridge to the appropriate officers.

"I'll be in my quarters… meditating, do not disturb me until we arrive at Sepros." Informed Astronicus. He and his guards, along with the Krath Priestess left the bridge, Cresh and Dorn heading for the lift-tube that would take them to the nearest galley for some grub. The Priestess following in the Dark Jedi Master's footsteps.

Republic-Class Star Destroyer Final Way
Enroute to the Orian System
Hyperspace

The Valheru cursed underneath his breath as he sat down upon his bed. This
little adventure had almost cost him everything and only made him realize he
hated more than he knew.

First there was Darth Vexatus, abandoning him at the moment of truth. He was
the betrayer and the trickster of minds. It could even be that Vexatus was never
there on the bridge and he was just a fiction of his imagination. Implanted in him
by the same person who would be snickering in the shadow at his failure.

Then there was Paladin, the Star Chamber's lapdog. He would rather have a weakened
and bleeding clan live than to abandon them to make the others stronger.

The weak do not deserve to live. - So said the teachings of the Dark Side.

The Scorpion had not stung, he was close but got stopped. He cursed once more
beneath his breath and then felt a hand on his shoulder.

"You came out alive my warrior and were closer than any other in destroying a single
Clan. You will be known as the one who almost destroyed Arcona singlehandedly. You
will be known as the Scorpion." Xathia said, her lips curled as she sat down besides
him.

Ylith watched the bluish glow of Hyperspace for a moment. He was betrayed, wronged
and he failed. He cursed his handicap, soon he would either be driven out or killed
for his lack of the Force. Either way, it would be a war against him that he could not
dare of winning. He may soon leave Clan Naga Sadow in a quest to fight his inner demons
or he would return to Marakith and prepare.

There were untold secrets lingering in the air, he could not grasp it, but he knew that they
would be revealed sooner or later.

The corridors of the Citadel were large, ornate and filled with alcoves that were just begging to be used as ambush points. The Vong however didn’t bother with anything as cerebral. They tore down the main hall with all of the subtlety of a gutshot rancor, screaming battle cries and hurling a storm of thud bugs, razor bugs and blast bugs at the small party of Dark Jedi. In unison several lightsabers sprang to life and flowed about to intercept the volleys sent their way. Kieran and Malidir were at the front of the defence, the latter with the Abyssal Tome strapped to his back for transport.

Juda, still battle torn and having lost his lightsaber on the field outside the Citadel drew his pistol and returned fire and Zandro and Illian formed up behind Kieran and Malidir, catching and bugs that slipped through the first line. It didn’t take long for the Vong to clash, amphistaff being met by saber. Sashar chafed at being unable to aid his brothers as his saber had been destroyed, but stayed by Mejas’s side, observing the fight.

It was over quickly – all of Sashar’s former apprentices were in no mood to dally and quickly dispatched their foes. Mejas didn’t waste time and strolled forward through the carnage and his temporary honour guard formed a protective screen about him. Below, shouts and screams echoed up through the halls as the Vong broke through the barriers and the Palace Guard met with the Far Outsiders in earnest, their blasters sounding out their distinctive trills as they gladly gave their lives in order to preserve the Shadow Lord’s.

-=[]=-

Sulaco grimaced as the Abyss took another volley of plasma on her unprotected starboard side – the Vong forces were literally pouring into the system now and the Destroyer couldn’t last much longer. The Darkest Night, Shadow, Last Light, Creeping Darkness, had already jumped out, leaving only the gunships to protect their charge. The Abyss couldn’t leave until the Consul was aboard – it was as simple as that.

“Sir, the Valour’s Fall has entered the atmosphere. They estimate that they’ll be out within eight minutes.” The XO reported and Sulaco swore. In eight minutes, the Abyss would in all probability be dead in space.

“Move us to the far side of the planet – try and put Boral between them and us, also redistribute shields so that they’re strongest facing the Vong when we turn.” Rho ordered, secretly torn. On one hand, if Mejas, Sashar and Zandro were all left on the planet to rot, he’d be left in charge of Arcona, however… He knew his old master well: Sashar was a survivor and simply would not be defeated that ‘easily.’ That, coupled with the legendary rage and prowess of the Shadow Lord left him erring on the side of caution.

“We’re reading dovin basal mines on our current trajectory out of the system – we won’t be able to jump with them there.” Niles reported tersely as the bridge rocked with another explosion.

“Okay, it’s time for our reserves. I want the Avengers to form an advance screen at our rear and stop as many of the coralskippers as possible. Keep the Gunships close to the hull to provide anti-fighter cover. Send Sin and Bombard squadrons to deal with a corridor of Dovin Basal mines, also get Shade Squadron down to the planet, I want them keeping Coralskippers off the Valour’s Fall!” Rho ordered.

The decking under his feet shook violently once more as the rear shields took a battering from the massed Vong forces gaining on them.

-=[]=-

They arrived atop the citadel on the plateau-like expanse and sealed the doors behind them. It wouldn’t hold the Vong off for long, but it would hopefully last.

“Sashar, where exactly is our ride?” Kieran asked as if he were discussing the weather.

“Give it a minute, it’ll be here.” He replied, searching the sky for any sign of the Corvette.

There was a bitten off order in Vong and the sides of the plateau suddenly had Yuuzhan Vong Warriors pouring over them. The step-like shape of the Ziggurat had allowed them to scale the exterior. Instantly, the group of Arconans formed a perimeter and the lightsabers cut into the air, meeting amphistaff and coufee with a clash, yet more and more kept coming. Mejas grimaced – he’d hoped it wouldn’t come to this. Usually, he saved fighting for those he considered ‘worthy’ foes, and the Vong definitely didn’t fall into that category. He shrugged off his outer robe, revealing a sleeveless black tunic that could barely contain his blue-skinned, muscled form. With a snarl, he raised an arm and sent a blast of Force Lightning at the densest group of Vong and instantly killed them, then turned his attention to the pair of Vong attempting to take down his Shadow Scion. With only his Sapphire Blade left as an offensive weapon, he wasn’t faring as well but still held in there.

Mejas seized a slab of rock from the ground telekinetically and yanked it from its resting place, then with a telepathic nudge at Sashar, hurled it at his apprentice and the Mandalorian’s opponents. Sashar collapsed at the hint, letting his legs fall out from under him and the massive slab crushed the two vong, sailing over the Proconsul’s head. It carried on rolling over the side of the Ziggurat and sent Vong scattering away. Another blast of Force Lightning freed up Juda to lend long range support with his Lancer Rifle. It was only then that the Vong realised the true threat.

More and more swarmed at the Consul, only leaving just enough to hold off his retainers and more and more he was forced to electrocute them or throw parts of his citadel at the masses, crushing them. Then came Bloodfang.

They moved within his ‘outer circle’ necessitating the use of his famed lightstaff – Bloodfang. The weapon had been used sparingly; not once seeing action since before the resurrection and the purple blades seemed all the more hungry for blood because of it. Mejas moved into a unique variation of Shien, pouring his own fighting style into the discipline – it was almost enough to induce pity for the Vong. With no flourishes, no wasted movements, he hacked through the thick of them as the last remnants of his clan on Selen were gradually forced back.

“Sashar!” He roared, no longer caring about decorum – he merely wanted a way off the planet, as there was nowhere else to run.

The Proconsul, bloodied, beaten, bruised and his eyes looking alive for the first time in nearly two years risked a glance at his left gauntlet and shouted over the din of battle “Two minutes!”

“Two minutes for half a dozen equites and an elder to face down a numberless horde of fanatic warriors bent on ritual sacrifice and self-mutilation … the Vong don’t stand a chance.” Kieran replied cheerfully, his lightsaber catching a pair of amphistaffs, but letting another three through to bounce off the Das’Verd armour, deeply pitting it.

Malidir hacked off a laugh and let his signature red blade find the weak spot in Vong armour just under the armour of one hapless warrior as he tried to move closer to the Consul, who was being gradually backed into a corner of the plateau. He couldn’t move fast enough.

An opening was left behind the Zabrak and despite a dazzling display of Shien at its best his neck was momentarily exposed. An opportunistic Vong hurled a razor-bug at the chink in the armour-

A massive black blur slid into place behind Mejas and brought a single red blade about to catch the living projectile. He was massive, human in appearance but had a vaguely canine air about him – only in so much as he was a true predator. The Dark Side radiated from him like some sort of deadly catalyst and he faced down the Vong with a fearless resolve and didn’t give them chance to swipe at him with amphistaffs or coufees; he got close and personal, bearing down on them, not letting their size diminish his own and stared them in their mutilated eyes as he tore them to shreds. A second blade snapped from his staff and together he and Mejas formed an impenetrable defence.

“Wayii! I thought Sashar was good with defensive stances! That’s kriffing outrageous!” Juda exclaimed as the two Elders melded into one wall of light that easily surpassed Sashar’s signature ‘Mighty Guard.’

There was an artificial thrum that reverberated through the chests of every living being on the plateau, and finally the Clan Summit’s extraction arrived: the Valour’s Fall.

The Agave-class Picket slammed through the atmosphere, peppering the ground around the citadel with fire from her token number of cannons and pulled to a halt in a brilliant display of piloting with her airlock doors open just a few meters from the edge of the Citadel’s Plateau.

“Lord Consul, jump!” Captain Yamato bellowed over the sound of the repulsorlift engines as he hefted a DLT-19 rifle and opened fire from the airlock. Mejas, looking as feral as ever with his azure skin, sharpened horns and even sharper teeth all on display glanced about to make sure he was momentarily clear and with a force-assisted leap managed to clear the gap, the unknown wolf-like warrior covering his escape. Illian and Juda were next, followed by Sashar and Kieran before Malidir and Zandro finally relented. Only then did Yamato and the token security officer close the hatch and pull away from the doomed planet. Before the doors closed, Sashar glanced back out at the warzone below and spotted the single warrior, no, champion dive into the mass of Vong swarming over him, his blood red staff a blur. The doors closed and with a surge of power, the engines shunted the ship towards space.

-=[]=-

“Here they come!” Niles shouted over the claxons as the Valour’s Fall burst through the atmosphere, her course taking her towards the Destroyer’s waiting dorsal bay. About her, almost invisible at this distance were a dozen TIE Phantoms trying valiantly to keep the Coralskippers from landing too many hits on the physically weak corvette. They were keeping up – barely.

“We have the Consul on board but have sustained heavy damage from their ground artillery units – we’ll be needing medical and fire control teams ready on docking.” Yamato’s voice sounded strained over the comm. feed.

Sulaco looked pointedly over at his XO, Jaal, who nodded and set off at a sprint to meet the Consul in the docking bay.

“Do we have a course plotted?” Rho asked, hanging onto the tactical console as another shot sent various crewmen scattering across the decking.

“We’re ready to jump as soon as we clear the gravity well.” Sulaco replied promptly, himself clinging onto the helm console for dear life.

“Call back the short range fighters and prepare to jump as soon as the Fall is secured.” Rho replied.

Vollies of plasma lanced out from the pair of pursuing destroyers and a wall of coralskippers hurtled in on the Valour’s Fall, one blast cutting clean through her underside. Atmosphere vented from the breach and at least two bodies could be seen flailing helplessly into the vacuum before the corvette slid under the Eye of the Abyss and was seized by the tractor beams. The Destroyer accelerated away from the planet as fast as her engines would carry her and the fighter screen scattered.

“Get the gunships out of here, we need a clear jump trajectory.” Sulaco shouted to the communications salon, and the harried ensign nodded his understanding as he relayed the orders.

A moment later there were three flickers of pseudomotion as the Broken Blade, Dark Artisan and Light’s Lament made it away to hyperspace.

“We’ve got her!” Jaal’s voice sounded over the intercom and Sulaco could’ve cheered.

“Punch it!” Rho shouted over the alarm claxons as the rear shields fell and the plasma began eating away at the aft superstructure.

Stars stretched to lines, and they were gone.

-=[]=-

Eighteen hours later the fleet was together once more and Mejas Doto had gathered the remnants of his Clan summit.

Sashar, the vong poison purged from his veins nevertheless looked a lot better than he had in months – clearly the combat had done him good, despite the outcome. Zandro was his usual brooding self, yet there was no animosity directed at his former master now. Rho was, as ever a constantly plotting model Sith, his black eyes flicking over the others at the meeting. Representing the Warrior caste was Sulaco – the only non force-user at the table. He looked suitably intimidated.

“Sashar…” Mejas rumbled, and the Proconsul nodded. It wasn’t Mejas’s style to lead a meeting, rather observe and interject as he saw fit.

“Okay gentlemen, the bad news is that we’ve lost the Dajorra system. A lot of the native population will be retreating into the wilds of the planets to avoid the invaders, however a fair number of them will doubtlessly be captured and put into camps… or worse. The Warrior Caste will hopefully do the same and keep the Vong on the back foot with guerrilla tactics, namely the following: They will garner the support of the native populations by staging raids on any refugee or prisoner camps they can as well as striking highly public Vong targets, such as administration centres and the like. These attacks will continue for the duration of the occupation until such a time as the Vong forces realise it is unfeasible to hold Dajorra. Basically, we intend to drain their resources so much that they can’t hold the system without taking forces from the front lines of their invasion, which is reaching a critical point what with the newly formed Galactic Alliance scoring a major victory at the Battle of Esfandia.”

“What about the fleet?” Sulaco asked. He hadn’t shaved, but still looked bright eyed and alert.

“We’re currently en-route to the Yridia System where our Tarentum allies have agreed to help with our repairs. Once the fleet is patched up, we’ll be making for deep space. We’ll have to rely on the kindly good nature of the other clans in the time being to keep us supplied.” There was a snort of laughter from Zandro and even Rho grinned ferally at the dry sarcasm in the Proconsul’s voice.

“Sashar will be travelling to the Orian System to broker an alliance with Clan Naga Sadow and also run another...trivial errand and will need the Shuttle readying, as well as an escort of two of our Avengers.” Mejas interjected, his face once more hidden by a hooded cloak.

“Lord Consul, who was the dark warrior that fought with us on the Citadel’s roof?” Zandro asked.

“Cyris Oscura. An old acquaintance.”

“Did he survive?”

Mejas raised his head slightly, letting the light glint of his dark eyes.

“If he did, he’ll lead the rebellion against the Vong. We will ascertain the fate of Oscura at a later date – now we must focus on righting ourselves and getting back to fighting strength.” It was impossible to tell if there was any concern for Cyris in the Iridonian’s voice.

“I’d also like to recommend a few commendations for several members of the Fleet. Notably, Captain Yamato of the Valour’s Fall, Captain Malay of the 2nd TAM brigade…and yourself, Captain Sulaco.”

“Promote Malay to Major, give the Star of Dajorra to Yamato and congratulations, Commodore Sulaco.” Mejas said brusquely.

“..Thank you, Lord Consul.”

“Right then, that concludes it. Rho, Zandro, head back to your respective House ships and prepare a list of fallen.” Sashar said as he stood, lightsaber noticeably missing from his belt.

-=[]=-

Ylith Atema, disgraced Battlemaster of Naga Sadow stopped dead; something wasn’t right. He was already in a foul mood, having been brought before the Consul to explain his actions in the Dajorra debacle and just wanted to be free of the cloying pressure of the New Sadow Palace and thus had hurried to the hangar, however there was something…wrong with the setting. Abruptly, it clicked. There were no DSOG guards guarding an arterial corridor to the hangar. He glanced behind him, hoping to catch sight of at least a technician or a droid, but there was no-one. Turning back around, he stopped dead.

Directly in his path was a foppish neon-green eyed Dark Jedi Knight with archaic gauntlets, curly platinum locks and a grin that was verging on hysterical. Ylith tentatively identified him as Illian Syn; Sashar’s lapdog.

Ylith went for his O-Katana with a practiced ease, however with a flicker of psuedomotion and the barest ruffle of fabric Illian closed the distance between them through a bold use of force augmentation that brought the pair closer than Ylith was comfortable. He felt a gauntleted hand staying his from drawing his weapon of choice and then stiffened as something small and metallic stabbed into his neck. His vision wavered and the last thing the force-deaf Battlemaster saw before unconsciousness claimed him were those horrible green eyes.

-=[]=-

Sashar’s escort was light – merely two Tactical Assault Marines from Major Malay’s hastily rebuilt squad. He was being led from the Consul’s office by a journeyman and felt wholly satisfied with the outcome. A treaty had not been drafted formally – Mejas would need to be present for that, however Ashia Kagan Keibatsu seemed eager to align her clan with Arcona, if for no other reason than to call on Arcona to soak up some plasma should the Vong come knocking on Orian’s door. Whilst it wasn’t ideal, it would satisfy the debt of honour Sashar personally felt for CNS’s involvement in the invasion of Dajorra – whether or not his clan mates would view it the same way remained to be seen.

One of the two marines raised a hand to his helmeted head, as if listening intently to the internal comlink and muttered something back.

“Sir, Major Malay reports a successful grab. They’re waiting for us on the shuttle.”

“Excellent.” Sashar allowed himself a tight grin.

-=[]=-

They were almost polar opposites. One of the two, bone white, pristine, brilliant in her majesty against the pitch backdrop of space, the other, jet black and pitted with areas of exposed decking, sparking power fluctuations running over the damaged wounds in her hull. The Yridia System had definitely seen more well appointed guests in her checkered past.

As ever, Maximillian Oberst acted as an intermediary for the two clans and met with the Shadow Lord aboard the Eye of the Abyss – a change from usually dealing with Arcona’s Proconsul. He was brought directly up to the Bridge by the ship’s XO and the Tarentae had to grin tightly to himself as he finally sighted Mejas at the end of the catwalk, staring out into space. His long black cloak and hood brought alluded quite deliberately to the infamous Lord Vader, indeed the very act of stargazing off the bridge of a Destroyer was one of the Dark Lord’s favoured past times.

The blue-skinned Zabrak turned to face Oberst and nodded a tight greeting – as much of a sign of respect as the Field Marshal was going to get. He nodded in return.

“You seem to have been through the wars.” Oberst stated dryly, and the Shadow Lord grimaced slightly, showing off a set of viciously pointed teeth.

“We were driven from Dajorra by the Yuuzhan Vong – even with the assistance from Trevarus and Naga Sadow. Our fleet is in need of repairs.” This was as close as Mejas would ever get to outwardly asking for assistance.

“Under the terms of our Alliance, we will patch you up and help with any medical crises you have – however one wonders exactly how much assistance Naga Sadow actually granted to you.” Oberst mused aloud.

“You think they assisted the Vong?” Mejas rumbled, his voice darkening.

“I wouldn’t put it past some of the more scheming members of that insipid clan. They’d like nothing better than to see the downfall of a rival. However, I’m supposing and have no proof either way.” The Adept replied.

“In return for Tarentum’s assistance with repairing our fleet, we are bringing you a gift from Orian.” Mejas said formally and the Field Marshal tilted his head quizzically.

“My life was threatened by Ylith Atema, a Battlemaster of Naga Sadow. I’m having my Shadow Scion pick him up now – I imagine he’d be quite the plaything for you.” The Zabrak’s voice was decidedly malicious.

Oberst grinned vindictively – his dabbling in bizarre and lingering tortures was legendary; clearly the Shadow Lord was calling on this particular hobby to exact his revenge.

“Oh I think I’ll find a way to pass the hours.” Oberst promised.

Despite everything that had happened to Arcona in the last few days, Mejas Doto, Primus di Tenebrous Arcona smiled. It was wholly unsettling.