[rift] Run On

NO UNDEAD ALLOWED IN THIS RO! You're your own enemies for once

READ THESE ARTICLES
http://www.darkjedibrotherhood.com/wiki/in...okhos_ton_Taras
http://www.darkjedibrotherhood.com/wiki/in...tle=VSD_Corsair
http://www.darkjedibrotherhood.com/wiki/in...le=Nightwraiths

Rules:

1) **IMPORTANT** There will be player on player battles in this RO. Do NOT kill characters you do not have permission to kill.

2) You might be a Dark Jedi. You might even have your lightsaber. But you are not a god (or goddess). Even Elders are not gods, but they can certainly do a whole lot more than any Equite or Journeyman. In short, godmoding is strictly prohibited and can result in your post being deleted or even death (see rule#3).

3) You are mortal. Death is a viable option for your character. Yeah, you’ve got the Force, but that didn’t really help Qui-Gon, Darth Maul, Obi-wan, Palpatine, Order 66 casualties, or any other Force user who met an early end, now did it? You put yourself in a hole and you might just end up staying there.

4) Stick to the setting and scenes (the Corsair and tunnels beneath).

5) Do unto others as you would have them do unto you. Yes, the Golden Rule applies here as well. Respect other characters and don’t write them doing something stupid or terribly out of character. Consult the wiki, their character history, or better yet, the member themselves.

6) What happens in this run-on is permanent for your character. Whether you lose an arm, adopt a herd of banthas, or anything in between, you’re stuck with it and must deal with it.

7) The unit is the character in this story and you are a part of the unit. Aim for continuity in the story; get advice from others on where to take your post.

Finally, posts that excessively detract from the storyline or contain large amounts of godmoding will be marked for deletion and ignored. It is not our goal or desire to keep anyone off the playground, but we will if we must.


First post coming in an hour

Sheets of rain poured from the cloudless sky of Koros as bright flashes of lightning illuminated the dark, craggy ground for miles. The Corsair lay on the distant horizon. Ji stared up at the glowing orb of Yridia II, barely visible through the din of the storm. Droplets of water the size of grapes splashed against his respirator and he closed his eyes, unconcerned with the ecological impossibility of what was happening around him.

My child...


A voice, soft as any Ji had heard, cut through the cacophony of weather like a razor and startled the Ubese out of his reverie. His pale, green eyes shone like running lights in the dark as the call reached him once more.

Child...

Intrigued, Ji followed the voice, each tentative, carefully placed step carrying him a mile at a time. He flew over craters. He soared over cliffs. Within six or seven steps, he had covered the distance to the Corsair and began plummeting through its decks as if he were merely a spirit.

He could see the Tarenti going about their daily routines. He could see the Nightwraiths getting merry in Club 19, Kazarelth locked in his quarters, staring at his datapad and surrounded by books. He sped past Varla, in the heat of an argument with Raimi. Suddenly, he was passing through the dark, lifeless lower decks of the Corsair. Soon, the entire ship had disappeared behind him and he twisted and squeezed through a maze of cracks and crevasses in the rock of Koros.


Impossible winds buffeted him back and forth through the labyrinth.

Ubese!

The voice boomed and echoed off of the indurate walls of the cavern with such strength that Ji covered his ears and bellowed in pain, his eyes shut tightly.

Abruptly, it all stopped. The voice had grown silent and the winds had subsided to a gentle breeze. Opening his eyes, Ji found himself sprawled across the floor, face down. The gentle exhalations from his respirator kicked up small plumes of dust around his face.

Raising his head slightly, the Ubese could only stare at what was before him. Flapping in the gentle breeze stood his summoner. Torn and dirty, the banner was no less amazing to behold, though whether that was the result of the masterwork of the craftsmanship or the fact that the Ubese could physically feel its grip tightening around his heart and pulling him toward it, Ji did not know.

Awaken!

Ji sat up in bed, his old, gray ribs heaving as he wheezed the normally toxic air, which filled his quarters, into his Ubese-science-experiment lungs. He swung out from beneath his sheets, dressing in such a hurry that he nearly forgot to buckle his respirator over his face before storming out the door into the airlock.

The Quaestor smashed his fist against the decontamination (or his case, contamination) button and thumbed his comlink to his Aedile while the door shut behind him and the chamber filled with the poisonous mixture of oxygen and carbon dioxide most sentients breathed.

"Windos, assemble the Komturei and meet me in the briefing room immediately!" rasped Ji into the microphone, his voice barely able to reach a volume loud enough to place the desired emphasis on the order. The Ubese practically flew out the door before it had even fully raised and raced through the corridors of the Corsair, winding through throngs of Cestians and Tarenti crowding the hallways.

Two turbolifts and more spilled armfulls of papers than he would care to admit later, Ji burst into the conference room where most of the house leaders had assembled. Noticeably absent were Saitou, Welshman, Sirrus and Donitz.

Ji leaned against the back of one of the chairs as he fought to catch his breath before sitting down on the plush piece of furniture. Staring across the table at the Phylarch, Ji was surprised to see the man's hands trembling and beads of sweat dripping from his brow. Ji would have to remember to ask him about that later, he thought to himself as he began to relate the account of his force dream.


~*~*~*~


Nami let out a roar of laughter as he took another swig of his bitter Yridian ale. Upon returning from Salas V, the Nightwraiths had been granted an extended leave and, having nowhere else to go, had chosen to spend it drinking, laughing, and playing games in the Corsair's Club 19, though where Welshman was, Nami hadn't the slightest idea. The Kiffar raised his hand to order another pitcher from the bartender when the general alarm screamed to life, echoing throughout the metallic halls of the VSD. The sudden noise caused several of his comrades to spill their drinks and the entire team sprang to their feet and began to scramble for the door, heading for the armory.


Dodging a massive droid polishing the immaculate flooring, Nami afforded his datapad a brief glance, noting the alarm had originated in the upper briefing room in the command tower. Tensions had been growing between the Ethnarc and his second, and this would not be the first time the Nightwraiths were called in to clean up the mess, thought Nami to himself as he followed Teia into the Nightwraiths domestic headquarters, where many of his team had already halfway donned their armor.

"Probably useless anyway... one of them has probably already knocked the other unconscious," muttered Nami to Vai as they yanked open their respective lockers.

"Are we taking bets on who's still standing?" replied Vai with a smirk.

"Not this time. I've got a bad feeling about this..." whispered the Kiffar under his breath as he yanked his helmet down over his head.

The Nighwraiths made more noise than usual as they donned their bodysuits, armor, and weapons - but usually the battleteam members weren't well on their way to intoxication when called into duty.

Damn bodysuit, Teia thought as she fought with the stretchy material. She'd gained muscle during her study of acrobatics, along with the usual training in hand-to-hand techniques and lightsaber forms. The bodysuit just didn't fit right anymore. She stood up straight and slowly bent herself backwards, stretching both her spine and the stubborn suit, until her head was on the same level as her buttocks and almost touching the seat of the bench behind her.

"Woo-hoo!" A male voice called out. "Look who's gonna be more flexible than that ice-worm back on Yridia IV!"

Teia closed her eyes in annoyance and quickly straightened her spine, standing up straight and facing her open locker again.

"I invite whoever said that," Teia announced to the armory at large, "to repeat it tomorrow - without liquid courage in your system!"

Teia stretched her arms above her head as far as they would go and the energy-webbed bodysuit finally slipped into place, though it was uncomfortably tight in her groin area.

I really need to request another one of these, Teia reminded herself again.

Teia picked up the first piece of her armor and realized the armory had grown quieter. During her struggle with her bodysuit, every other Nightwraith had become fully armed and ready and were now looking at her. She scowled, both at the attention and at the memory of her spilled Mandallian Narcolethe back in Club 19, shoved her armor on, grabbed her weapons, twisted her low ponytail into a knot and yanked her helmet down over her head.

"Calm down," Val said to Teia as the battleteam trotted out of the Nighwraiths' quarters of the VSD Corsair. "Just another cleanup in the command tower. I bet Windos knocked that Ubese out cold before we left the bar."

"That Ubese," Kazarelth said, having overheard, "is Ethnarc of the Lokhos. He deserves more respect."

Nami halted the team before the closed door of the briefing room.

"And you," he said, addressing all the Nightwraiths, "are charged to maintain order and obey my commands - not discuss politics!"

"Yes, sir!" the Nightwraiths replied in unison, with varying degrees of enthusiasm. Teia rolled her eyes.

Nami tapped the console and the door slid open. Nami entered first, Teia right behind, and she noticed the other Flight Leader's absence - Welshman - for the first time.

Ji and Windos, customarily seated on opposite sides of the head of the table, were both on their feet and leaning so far into the center that their faces almost touched.

"We must recover it!" The Ubese yelled, his voice warped from his respirator.

"That banner," Windos snarled, bits of spittle landing on Ji's respirator, "is in its resting place. To disturb it would be to disturb a sacred burial site!"

"The Force wills us to recover it!" Ji pounded his fists onto the table, causing it to shudder. "It is our trophy! It is our inspiration! The Force WILLS it!"

"Does the Force will it," Windos said quietly, "or do you will it?"

"The Banner wills it," Ji said as quietly.

"And you, Ethnarc," Windos said, pulling back and standing straight again, "are mad."

"I'll show you 'mad,'" Ji snarled, leaping onto the table, violet lightsaber activated.

"Nightwraiths!" Nami yelled. "Defend the Phylarch!"

"Defend the Phylarch?" Teia asked incredulously. "Ji is our Ethnarc! He outranks the Phylarch! Our duty is to him!"

Nami's head snapped toward Teia. "Defend the Phylarch," he repeated.

"You just said we are charged to maintain order!" Teia cried.

"And you are also charged to obey my commands, Flight Leader!"

"This is ridiculous!" Teia shouted.

A bang made both Nami and Teia look back at the Ethnarc and Phylarch. Windos had drawn his own lightsaber, blocking Ji, and the Ubese had just raised his free hand and Force-pushed his Phylarch into the wall.

"Draw lightsabers!" Nami commanded the entire team, drawing his own blade. "Defend the Phylarch at all costs!"

Teia reached for her saber, then stopped.

"No," she said.

"What?" Val asked quietly from behind.

"You dare defy me, Flight Leader?" Nami demanded. "I am your commander, Nightwraith!"

"And you defy our Ethnarc," Teia countered.

"This is treason!" Nami shouted.

"Exactly," Teia replied. "I have no choice."

Teia drew her lightsaber in her right hand and her vibroblade in her left.

"Nightwraiths!" She cried. "Follow me!"

She dashed into the room to Ji's side.

The volume of voices and growing heat within the small space of the briefing room was making Varla dizzy, as she sat with her fellow Komturei blankly observing the flash of the Ethnarc and Phylarch's sabers as they clashed together. Not that she wasn't used to this sort of quarreling - her many years in Imperial Intelligence had been loaded with scuffles similar to this, whether with a blaster or a blade. Still, the stifling air gathering in clumps around the whole dramatic scene was getting to her, and she could only shake her head as a Nightwraith charged into the room, vibroblade and lightsaber raised at Windos's head.

Windos had peeled himself from the fresh dent in the wall with ease, his youthful Yridian bulk heaving with harsh breaths and dripping persperation. His knuckles were turning white from where he gripped his lightsaber, the jewel on its pommel glittering in the dim light from the nearest portal leading to the cold Koros atmosphere. With a loud, guttural sound, not enough to be a roar but too severe to be a battle cry, he leapt onto the table again only to stare in wonder as Teia Coran audaciously stepped between them, her weapons held in front of her in a fierce criss-cross toward Windos's throat.

"It is my duty to protect the Ethnarc!" Teia growled. "You may not hurt him, or else I'll bring you down for treason!"

Varla began to notice that many of the Komturei in the room were beginning to stand at this sudden, perhaps irrational display of coldness. Of those Komturei were Karel and Dranik, Tarentae of House Cestus, whose jaws were set and eyes dim as they observed what they may have considered the most foolish of behavior for leaders. Feeling the need to follow suit, Varla allowed her legs to unbend as the fabrics of her Komtur uniform uncreased around her petite figure. She was the smallest of the Komturei, and a non-Force sensitive, but was received as one of the brightest strategic minds of Cestus. She felt as if data were racing through her brain as the Nightwraiths, in awkward clusters, charged into the room, scattering as if unsure which of the house summit they should defend. For such an elite unit, it was a strange sight to see.

She was torn from her more mathematical thought process by a dry, humored chuckle from Windos. He pointed his saber directly at Teia, the tip threatening to pierce her ribcage beneath her Nightwraith armor. "You're an idiot for trying to challenge me, little Guardian," he smirked, which only seemed to make Teia more aggressive in her stance. "Perhaps you should be the one to be convicted of treason, for threatening me."

"In case you've forgotten, Windos," Ji spat, his voice harsh behind his resperator, "I am the judicial voice in this house! And clearly, you're falling into the incompetency category!"

"It is my duty as Phylarch to take care of those Ethnarcs who are demonstrating they are unfit for office!" Windos snapped, and with a large hand he brushed Teia aside like an insect, ignoring her yelp as she collided into the adjacent wall and her weapons clattered to the floor. "And frankly, Ji, you seem to be proving to me that maybe we need someone new leadng the Lokhos..."

Varla was unsure what infuriated Ji more - Windos's defiant attack on a Nightwraith, or his accusation that Ji did not deserve to be Ethnarc. Either way, the way his muscles were tightening, in his arms and in his face, was remarkable. Varla had heard about the potential of anger within a Dark Jedi before, but she could sense every action the Ubese was willing to take to make it to his rival and tear his head from his shoulders. She felt her mind race again.

First step: Stance. She heard the squeal of his boots against the floor. Saber style, muscles tensing. Fire brewing in eyes. Strike: 4 seconds.

"You will not question my authority!" Ji snarled, keeping true to his quieter roots and not succumbing to bellowing, though his own body did the roaring for him. He leapt at Windos again, ignored the shuffling of the Komturei as they moved about the room to encircle the strike, paid little attention to those Nightwraiths who now lunged with their own sabers.

The Ethnarc is quick. The Phylarch will be quicker.

Windos caught Ji's swipe deftly on the tip of his own saber, as if balancing a sphere on a blade, and guided Ji as if through the Force into the table below. Varla heard the shriek of the metal frame as it gave way, and the table splintered beneath them, while the Nightwraiths all came at the two, as if in a chaotic police force.

"Back, both of you!" Commander Nami roared, though he flanked Windos rather than Ji. Varla noticed, for the first time, that something was shifting in the room. Several Komturei had broken away from each other, to stand by Windos's side in a cluster. And she felt the urge to follow.

Ji pulled himself from the wreckage of the table with a grunt, assisted by a recuperated Teia as those Nightwraiths who had followed her lead rushed to the Ethnarc's side. There was a definite choreography now of movement, a shiftling into distinct clusters, like bees gathering at a hive. And Varla, looking at Windos, clucked her tongue as he rose and brushed the fall off like a scab.

The Phylarch is more capable strategically. If we are to maintain order...

Varla had come a long way to be a Komtur of such a powerful order. She would not lose that too quickly. She moved in that tense silence, rich on her tongue like a Corellian spice, and gathered her feet where Nami and some of the Nightwraiths defended the Phylarch in an open manner. She stared at the Ubese's rigid figure, his saber still alight, as if he had never been thrown down in the first place.

She could see the groups clearly now, all shuffled to their own sides. And she waited for the silence to break.

It did, in a thunderous storm.

The tension that was emanating from the leaders of the Lokhos was infectious and was quickly creating division amongst the Komturi. Even the highly trained Nightwraiths were susceptible to the fluctuations and had begun to hovering around the leader that they had the most allegiance or faith in to guide them through dark times.

As the Ethnarc and Phylarch fought for control, the control over the followers was quickly waning as Teia Corran assisted Ji and at the same time ignored the orders of her commander, this infuriated Nami as he was losing control over the situation.

“Guardian Teia Corran I order you to stand with the Nightwraiths” shouted the Sith Commander.

Teia shouted back over the commotion “it is our duty to serve the Ethnarc, you traitor.”

From behind Nami, Vai could sense the tension tearing at the threads that held the house together. His training as a Krath and time as a Professor had taught him that unity must be maintained. This all was unraveling as he watched his now furious commander move in on Teia.

Commander Nami, with his yellow saber cutting through the air moved in to deal with his treacherous Flight Leader. His eyes were darkened and his breathing grew heavy as he prepared himself to maintain control of his unit no matter the cost.

Teia had moved away from her Ethnarc and prepared herself for battle without noticing Kazarelth had moved to her side his lightsaber ignited.

“You both dare to defy my orders, so be it” cursed Nami as he moved in on his subordinates with the remaining of the Nightwraiths readying themselves for battle.

The house was falling apart as its members forcibly aligning themselves with either the Ethnarc or Phylarch. The Nightwraiths were losing control and each member was made to decide who or what they believe in.

As Ji’s saber collided with Window’s, and Nami’s collided with that of Kazarelth’s, a defined separation was formed that was destroying everything the house believed in and each member would feel the repercussions.

Phthian Octavian Moorhand walked calmly into one of the VSD Corsair's many libraries. Ever since joining Cestus, Octavian had developed a routine that he was comfortable with on the ship. He'd go to the library, catch up on the Holonet news while reading the history of the brotherhood he now served.

The librarian, a non-force user like himself, who usually greeted him warmly on his enterance, looked nervous. Octavian, tightening the Orange sash about his waist, walked over to her. "What's the problem?" he asked calmly.

"There is a fight. It's being talked about all over the ship. The Ethnarc and Phylarch are fighting." She replied, timidly.

The creases in Octavian's brow deepened as he thought. What could they possibly be fighting about. They've worked well together in the past. "What else is happening there?"

"I don't know Phthian Moorhand. That was all I heard."

"Very well." Octavian left the desk and went to his customary computer, yet he didn't feel like continuing his routine. What he had been told of the fight disturbed him, and from what he had learned of Dark Force users, especially in the form of Darth Vader, from his service in the Imperial Navy made him all the more afraid of the battle between the Dark Jedi.

He rose from his seat and paced. How can this be possible? He thought. Then he grew more afraid. This could mean a split in the House, a rebellion. The very thought of a rebellion unnerved him, for it was a rebellion that had destroyed the Empire and created the other dominant power in the Universe.

Octavian tried to listen to the Holonet news, but the thoughts kept interrupting. The thoughts of rebellion were foremost in his mind. There was no way that he would let that happen. Should there be another rebellion and it succeeded, what would he be left with?

Octavian rose, he couldn't stand it any longer; he had to find out what was happening. He picked up his books and shut off the computer he was using before curtly thanking the librarian and leaving the library. His first thought was to collect his vibroblade and blaster pistol from his quarters. If the Ethnarc and Phylarch are having it out, he'd need those.

He walked briskly into his lush quarters. As always, he was still surprised to have been treated this nice, yet he only wondered briefly before going to his footlocker and collecting his weapons. He stuffed his vibroblade into his sash as he half-ran to the meeting room, wondering what he would find inside.

When Octavian arrived in the conference chamber the hammerstroke had already fallen and the area was empty. The room itself was an absolute disaster. Booted footfalls carried him through a river of blood-soaked paper and around smashed, utterly destroyed furniture. He knelt down over the body of a fallen Cestian. The young man’s torso had been sliced open to his sternum by a lightsaber and his bronze sash was stuffed obscenely down his throat. Octavian stood and backed away from the body, retreating slowly into the lifeless corridors.

Suddenly a loud crack and series of yells exploded down the hallway and Octavian distinctly heard the Phylarch’s voice barking orders over the gunfire and commotion. Without a second thought he took off in the direction of the noise. Battlemaster K’awiil might be the Ethnarch, thought the man to himself, but Windos is definitely the stronger of the two… and a Tarentae to boot…. He had made up his mind. If the conference room was any indication of what the entire Corsair had feared for months, then Octavian would not be caught on the losing side.

~*~*~*~

A bare, jury-rigged bulb swung gently back and forth overhead as Ji took stock of those assembled before him. Teia leaned casually against the bulkhead nearest the door to the giant, old cargo hold, trying to adopt on an appearance of calm Ji knew didn’t really represent the way she felt. Raimi sat atop an empty synthwood crate donning the precious battle armor the group was coerced into picking up from the Kushiban’s quarters as they bid a hasty retreat. Other members of the Lokhos were scattered about the area. Some treated minor wounds. Some groaned in pain, restrained by their fellows, as wounds were cauterized, limbs which had been severed had tourniquets applied, and death rattles evacuated raw throats.

“Well… what do we do now?” asked Seith Ornil with an exasperated sigh.

“It’s simple! We kill them!” shouted Raimi as he stood from his sitting position, holding his small, furry fist high in the air. He probably picked that up from the Consul… thought Ji to himself.

Ji raised his hand into the air and indicated his compatriots should quiet down. There was no way he would be able to project his barely audible rasp over the din they were making by shouting.

“The Phylarch has committed treason,” wheezed Ji through his respirator, each word half wetly choking in his throat as his genetically abused and naturally weak voice box struggled to continue. “He will be punished,” continued the Ubese, “however our first priority must be control of the ship. Raimi…” Ji turned to the Eklektor. “Report.”

“Twenty two are here with us, great Ethnarch,” barked the diminutive rabbitthing. “However, the battle continues throughout the Corsair. Those of the bridge crew loyal to you have sent reports to my datapad that the Phylarch has taken complete control of, and has fortified, the conning tower. He is using the bridge to coordinate efforts against us.”

Ji coughed loudly as his vocal cords began to vibrate once more. “Teia. You are in command of the Nightwraiths now. Take your team and Dahaka, move aft through the core and secure the secondary bridge. If you meet Tier-Avis and his traitors, inform him his command has been terminated, and rectify the situation.”

“Understood sir,” answered Teia as she slapped a fresh powerpack into her blaster rifle and, cycling the action, motioned for her troops to file out into the dark corridor. She slapped an E-11 into Azi’s arms as the muscular man strode past her looking unconcerned.

“Ornil.” Ji turned to the tall, svelte man. “Move through the ship, gather what support you can and assault the conning tower.”

The Lieutenant Commander clicked his heels professionally and spun around to leave.

“And take Nalan’rha with you,” Ji shouted (barely) as the small Twi’lek took off after her CO.

Finally Ji addressed Raimi, now fully armored and twitching impatiently, lightsaber already clenched between his claws. “You come with me,” was all he offered the Kushiban as he started for the exit. “Keep an eye on the wounded, Adien,” the Ubese called back over his shoulder almost dismissively as he disappeared into the blackness of one of the many lower decks.

The bridge of the Corsair was heated by the tempered footsteps of those scrambling to carry out Windos's orders, as the Phylarch stood almost nonchalantly in the midst of the activity. The hilt of his saber clung to the palm of his sweaty hands, as his eyes flickered back and forth to the many sealed off entryways that led to the core of the ship. Things were going along beautifully, and to his advantage. He had over thirty members of the Lokhos under his command, including some of the finest Phthians and Komturei. Windos swiveled round at the sound of a door opening with a hiss, as two Hippoti marched in, leading a white-faced Octavian as if by a leash.

Windos snapped his fingers at Varla, who had taken a seat by one of the open portals displaying a rocky stretch of Koros. The two approached the Hippoti, leaving other loyal Lokhos to scatter to the sides of the bridge. The two Hippoti bowed deeply to Windos, before shoving the Phthian forward as he stumbled to his knees with a dull, steely thud.

"Phylarch," one of the Hippoti explained, "we found Moorhand wandering the corridors. He claims that he wishes to swear his allegiance to you."

Windos said nothing to that, instead kneeling down to meet Octavian's misty eyes. As the older man looked up into the Battlelord's youthful face, he could sense that the man was beyond the years of his actual flesh...older than he seemed. He winced at the sound of the Phylarch's voice.

"What have you seen in the corridors?"

Octavian swallowed. "Death," he replied, bluntly but honestly. "Much death. I saw Akolyths cradling entrails erupted from their stomachs. They cried for mercy. I saw Phthians blasting away at men in the corridors as if they were rocks."

"I'm not interested in hearing about death," Windos snarled. "I want updates. Have you seen anything from the Ethnarc?"

"...No, sir. Though I heard men who swore loyalty to him, screaming for a revolution."

In an abrupt, carnal movement, Windos raised a booted foot and planted it right into Octavian's mouth. Octavian let out a guttural noise as blood and teeth spurted from between his lips, and he tumbled to the floor with his hands to his face, as Windos activated his lightsaber and brought the blade to Octavian's chest.

"Tell me why I should let you live," he growled, "and not gut you like a pig to ensure that you're not a filthy liar."

"Phylarch."

Windos's eyes burned as he set them upon Varla, who approached Octavian deftly and knelt beside him. The Hippoti stared in disbelief as she lifted the Phthian's head in her hands, using the end of her sash to wipe the blood from Octavian's lips. It was fascinating to them how the Phylarch was acting so aggressively, and certainly something that Varla was interested in analyzing, as she tended to Octavian's injuries.

Temper rising at alarming rate...heart rate going up a beat per second every three seconds. Tension in his brow, set jaw...muscles constricted. I wonder...

Varla began to suspect that the very thing that was tormenting K'awiil was affecting the calmer, more Krath-like Phylarch. That banner...that tattered piece of fabric oozing out its so-called "Force influence" that the strategist would never quite understand...was warping Windos's brain, his personality muddled like wet print on a page in a tome. He was being altered by its presence, whether he admitted it or not. And yet, Varla was certainly more comfortable around an aggressive general than a wheezing Ubese psychopath.

When Varla was done, she wiped the blood from her amber sash, lifted Octavian to his feet, and nodded to Windos. "He says he wants to join us, and I believe him," she said. "I've worked with him before, on many an occasion, and am aware of his strategic prowess. You can trust him."

The gentle timbre of her voice seemed to soothe Windos, as he let his shoulders loosen and the blade of his saber died with a somber hiss as he redirected his attention to the Hippoti. "Have you been updated on the activity in other parts of the ship?"

"Yes, sir," one Hippotis replied. "The upper floors have been entirely secured. Commander Nami has confirmed that he and his fellow Nightwraiths are in complete control of the tower. And Phthians have begun to descend to the lower floors, where we would imagine the Ethnarc would send his men."

"Good," Windos replied. "See to it that our hold on the tower does not slacken. I will not see this house go for a lousy banner."

"If I have permission to say so, I think this is more than just a banner, Phylarch," Varla replied, and Windos went rigid at that remark. "This is about Cestus itself, isn't it? You are unhappy with the way the Ethnarc leads, Windos...I don't need the Force to sense it."

Windos felt the hair on his brow bristle with a static energy, but he knew that Varla was right; she was no Force-sensitive, but she was one of the best strategists the clan had to offer. She read everyone like a military map, or a grid in which their thoughts like ships sped by and were caught on the sensors of Varla's mind. Windos could sense the shifting of gears as Varla contemplated, observed her surroundings as calculations roared through her psyche. But both were interrupted as a voice crackled loudly on the commlink that Windos now kept at his side.

"Phylarch. We've just received word that the conning tower is under siege. The first lines of defense have been breached."

Windos cussed loudly. "Is there no one competent that I can trust to run this operation?!" he snapped as he turned to stare at the men gathered on the bridge. Several Phthians and Hippoti recoiled at his glare, while Octavian shuffled closer to Varla's side. But Varla, again, could not be intimidated.

"Easy, Phylarch," she murmured. "Allow me to open communications with the conning tower. I have a certain plan in mind to keep the Ethnarc's men at bay..."

As Varla stepped to the communications console to open coms, Octavian just stood near her. The Phylarch had struck him, but he wasn't surprised. A kick was better than what he would have recieved had he incurred Lord Vader's wrath.

He took a moment to look at all of the members of the Phylarch's team. There were some very influential leaders present. Yet he did not see the Eklektor, Kragok. That worried him. He had heard of the Kushiban's ruthlessness, and he did not want to be a part of that. Did I join the right side? he wondered. Then he shook his head. Of course I did, my loyalty is to the stronger and Windos is definitely the stronger.

He then turned to Varla. He had to admit, the woman had saved his life, and she was a Komtur to boot. He knew her face and recognized her demeanor, but he couldn't pinpoint where he had seen her last. Maybe it's the confusion of the situation getting to me. He concluded.

Varla had begun to talk into the mike. Her voice was lowered, probably a precaution should the Ethnarc have found a way into the com lines. Imperials were taught that in basic training. It was standard for any military member from Army to Intel.

Windos called out to Varla, "How goes your operation Komtur?"

Varla turned. "It has been enacted." she stated. "My strategy will be initiated in moments. The Ethnarc will not know what hit him. I will tell you this, it will be a lot of firepower and subterfuge rolled up in a nice little bundle."

"Good." Windos growled. Then, turning to the two Hippoti that had escorted Octavian into the room, he barked, "I need some intel. Scout out the surrounding corridors. Alert me of any thing you find." Then he turned to Octavian. "Make yourself useful and go with them. Now."

Octavian did not need to be told twice. He hurried to the Hippoti and walked with them to the door. However, Windos pulled him over. "You may be under Komtur Clefsky's protection Moorhand, but if you do anything out of line, I will gut you. Clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Good. Now get out."

Octavian saluted and hurried out of the room.

*~*~*

Teia and her team were quickly carrying out the orders of their Ethnarc, moving through each corridor and blasting any traitors that came in their path. Every step brought them closer to the second bridge, and closer to completing their task. Every member felt the adriniline of mission completion surging through their veins. But they also felt the lust of battle as they continued down the corridor.

The team came upon an intersection and suddenly Teia held up her hand for the Nightwraiths to stop. She stood still for a moment, then ordered the team to find cover. Someone was coming, someone who didn't even know they were there. "Blasters set to kill." Teia ordered. "Wait for my signal." She then walked to the center of the intersection, knealt, and waited.

*~*~*

Octavian knew he had gone too far out but kept going, his officer's intuition telling him that something important lay ahead. There was no one in sight, except for dead bodies that littered the floor, some bearing charred marks of a lightsaber, others with smoking holes in their bodies. The two Hippoti, cradling blaster rifles, grew nervous. One of them turned to Octavian. "Sir," he said. "Shouldn't we report back to the Phylarch?"

"In a moment." Octavian answered. "I just want to see what's ahead."

*~*~*

Teia opened her eyes. she could hear voices now; one was an older man, mid-fifties she reasoned. The others maybe thirty or late-twentys. They mentioned the Phylarch, which could only identify them as traitors. Teia pulled out her blaster and resumed her waiting.

*~*~*

Octavian could see an intersection ahead. He could also see a form crouched in it's center. The lights in the area were flickering so badly, that he couldn't make out who it was...until she stood.

"What do we have here? A traitorous Phthian and two little Hippoti." Teia said mockingly.

Octavian's muscles seized. His eyes widened with fear at the site of the Flight Leader of the Nightwraiths. His eyes began to rove around the area, looking for the rest of the team.

"What's the matter?" Teia asked. "Afraid?"

"RETREAT!!" Octavian blurted out, pulling out his blaster pistol. Shots rang out, and the two Hippoti fell, smoke rising from two perfect headshots. Octavian set off sprinting back up the corridor.

One of the Nightwraiths raised his blaster to fire, when Teia pulled it down. "No, let him go. He will tell the Phylarch what happened here and we will tell the Ethnarc. This little incident could work to our advantage. Let's move on." The Nightwraiths broke cover and left.

Octavian had found out one thing though. He'd turned around at the right moment to see the direction Teia and the Nightwraith's took. This should please the Phylarch. He thought, and then hurried back towards the bridge.

The disturbance in the Force grew, gnawing at the edge of Saitou’s consciousness. He had felt this sensation before. It was truly epic during the Great Split, but this iteration felt more similar to the events leading to his self-exile from Clan Scholae Palatinae. Internal strife had finally reached the point of no return. There would be strife. His meditation could not continue, at least not here.

“Has it begun already?” Saitou mumbled without any expectation of an answer as he glanced over reports streaming into his personal terminal. His quarters on Deck 18 at the opposite end of the ship concerning the cantina one level below provided easy access to amenities with the added luxury of at least a hint of solitude.

It is time. Are you ready for what is to pass?

Saitou grimaced. Whether the voice was his own internal dialog or the influence of another being, he did not know. Grabbing the lightsaber with the purple hued blade, Saitou mindlessly affixed it to its resting place upon his waist. Its green hued counterpart was placed inside his robes on a more secure link. One should always have a spare. The SSK-7 heavy blaster pistol, an old trophy from a forgotten foe, was tucked into his robes for easy access.

The sounds of combat were drawing near. The Nightwraiths had not yet crossed his path, but the now split factions were certain to make their presence known shortly. Saitou’s amber sash hung snuggly against his chest, refusing to let him let him forget his loyalty to the House. His Tarentae name, inscribed over the door along with the single personal name he was known by in the Brotherhood, stood silently. Saitou had been betrayed by those close to him before. He would not be so naïve to think such lightning would never strike twice.

Arise!

A hiss and dull thud preceded the sound of boots upon the deck. It was time for the Pontifex to relocate to a more… fitting abode. It was time to descend lower into the depths of the VSD Corsair.

-*-*-*-

Seith Ornil shot a glance at the mechanic, who, despite it all, was truly an asset to his squadron. Grime under her nails was a common sight, but the Twi’lek struck a slight nerve in the officer. Ornil had felt the sting of shame as a defeated soldier when the Empire fell. He had been among other fine officers then. When would he next be on a truly suitable vessel?

Nalan’rha detected Ornil’s askew glance and wiggled her fingers with a grin. “Now is not the time to be prim and proper.” A curt laugh and toss of a tendril followed her friendly taunt. The lieutenant commander contorted his face ever so slightly more. Bursts of energy from their weapons rang out as the assault pressed forward.

Ornil signaled to his assault team. At least four men. Firmly entrenched. A blaster bolt sailed by his hand and the message stopped. The pilot swore as he returned fire and readjusted behind cover. Attack passage to the left. Quick nods from the pair of revolutionary Nightwraiths signaled the change in tactic.

-*-*-*-

“Where are they now?” Varla stared directly into the eyes, and had she been a Dark Jedi elder, one might even say the soul of her informant.

“A small team of traitors is pinned down on Deck 13.”

“Nami, what is your status?” The communication link hissed briefly and then the voice of the Nightwraith commander was heard clearly.

“We’re ready for anything they have,” the Kiffar growled. His followers had separated and his command was defied. This insult would be avenged. Teia would pay dearly for her defiance in the presence of the summit. The exact details were still being worked out in the back of his mind as the surroundings permitted.

The passage before them lay silent. Trust was to be placed in the strategic mastermind. Varla promised to deliver the prey into the Nightwraiths’ eager hands. The armored commandos need only allow their enemies to fall on their brandished arms.

-*-*-*-

It is only the beginning.

Seith Ornil, Nalan'rha, and the pair of revolutionary Nightwraiths on Deck 13 crouched behind the bulkhead for a moment, readying their weapons. Ornil raised a hand and silently signaled: Go!

The four rose, and instead of continuing their attack down the corridor before them, followed the path of the blaster bolts they shot into the left passage. The frail-looking Nightwraith, Kazarelth, raised a hand as they ran, and the first of five men entrenched in the passage flew backward into his comrades, taking the four behind him down like dominoes.

The first man lay where he fell without moving, but the four he'd toppled scrambled to get up. Before they could, the revolutionary assault team was on them. Naran'rha fired two blaster bolts, each into a man at her feet. Ornil finished two other men, and Kazarelth's violet saber blade neatly beheaded the unresponsive Force-thrown man.

"Just making sure," the Omwati said, the vertical scar under his left eye crinkling slightly as he smirked.

"Forward! And be wary," Ornil ordered, leading his three comrades down the corridor. They trotted easily, carefully eyeing every doorway and hallway they passed.

~

Teia's commlink crackled to life.

"Commander! Commander Coran! Come in!"

Commander Coran, Teia thought, feeling a touch of awe and wonder. I like the sound of that.

She raised a hand, signaling her team to halt, and raised her commlink to her mouth.

"This is Commander Coran," she said, not aware of the small smile on her face. "Speak."

"I've tapped the Phylarch's comm lines," Adien's deep voice said. "Nami's Nightwraiths are --"

"No Nightwraiths follow that traitor!" Teia snapped. "I command the Nightwraiths. Those who follow Nami are renegades!"

"Fine!" Adien barked. "Nami's renegades have laid an ambush on level 13!"

"Then it's a good thing we're on level 24," Teia replied, her small smile growing.

"Congratulations," Adien said dryly. "But someone is on level 13, because Nami's gloating that they're running right into his trap!"

"Who?" Teia asked. "The Nightwraiths are all with --"

She turned suddenly and counted. Two were missing, that new inductee, the one still green from training and...

"Kazarelth! Where is Kazarelth? Where did he go? Who is he with?"

"He accompanied Ornil and the Twi'lek," Adien replied. "The Ethnarc sent those three and the new Nightwraith to assault the conning tower."

Teia thought quickly, running the floor plan of the Corsair through her head. Given the time they left and the direction they were going in, Kazarelth's group could very well be on level 13. But...

"Where are the Ethnarc and the Elektor?" Teia demanded.

"I don't know," Adien said. "They didn't say where they were going."

Damn!

"Make contact with the Ethnarc and Elektor. Warn them at all costs!" Teia ordered. "Nightwraiths take care of their own."

Teia switched off her commlink. If Nami was already gloating about caputring his prey, then she'd never get there in time to help.

Teia raised her commlink to her mouth. "Kazarelth! Kazarelth, this is your commander. Come in! Come in, Kazarelth!"

Silence.

"Kazarelth! This is Commander Coran! Come in!"

"This is who?" Kazarelth's voice came through, sounding confused.

"This is Teia," she said, exasperated.

"Oh! Yes?"

"What level are you on?" Teia demanded.

"Thirteen," Kazarelth replied. "At this rate, we'll reach the conning tower within ten minutes. There has been very little reistance."

"It's a trap!" Teia cried. "Nami and his renegades, they've laid an ambush! Retreat!"

"How do you know this?" Kazarelth asked. "We haven't seen --"

"Do not question me! I am your commander!" Teia yelled into the commlink. "Retreat! That is an order, Nightwraith!"

"Are you -- " Kazarelth stopped mid-word. The sound of blaster bolts came through Teia's commlink, followed by static.

"Kazarelth!" Teia cried. "Kazarelth, come in!"

Teia held her breath, waiting for an answer. Her body suddenly felt very, very cold. Her hand, holding her commlink, fell to her side. She stared ahead, seeing nothing.

So many count on you. If you falter, you fail them all, A voice in her head said. She looked around for its source. Frey's eyes met hers.

Teia nodded and raised her commlink to her mouth.

"Adien, come in," Teia said weakly.

"Yes, Teia?"

"Kazarelth is on level 13," Teia reported. "I don't know who's with him right now, but from what I could hear, it sounds like..." She swallowed. "It sounds like he's met Nami's renegades."

The bridge of the Corsair was splendidly quiet. Varla could almost drink the silence as if it were a warm cup of caf, her fingers drumming along the edges of the control panel of the ship. It had been a while since they had heard from Nami and his Nightwraiths, but the Komtur was far from worried about the situation. From what she knew following Nami's transmission, the traitorous team was only four people, two not even being Force-sensitive. She turned her head to look at Windos, who had not moved from where he stodd for the past hour.

To Varla's disappointment, a crackle of a commlink could be heard as Nami's voice emerged from the newly formed connection. "Commander Nami reporting. We have the traitors pinned down in Deck 13. Your strategy worked brilliantly."

"I assumed that it would."

"Two of the traitors used to be our own," Nami continued, and Varla could sense a sort of gruffness in his voice. "What are Windos's orders?"

Varla blinked. She turned to face the Phylarch again, who had stirred as if from a deep slumber. As he raised his head, his eyes blazed like coals from his young Yridian face. He looked at Varla contemplatively, though the fury did not fade from his brow.

"You are to take charge of the bridge for now."

"And Nami's question?"

"That is your call, Clefsky. I trust your insight as one of the Lokhos' Komturei." Windos whipped around to Octavian, who flinched from his position near the wall. "Moorhand, you mentioned upon your return to the bridge that Coran was leading her part of the team toward the secondary bridge?"

"Yes, sir," Moorhand replied. "They mentioned the Ethnarc after taking out two of your men. I think we can safely say where K'awiil is going now."

Windos already knew without Octavian's theory where Ji intended to go; the bowels of the Corsair lay open for the Quaestor to scavenge in. While they had sent out Phthians to secure the lower part of the ship, he was aware of Ji's agility and stealth techniques from his work as an Ubese assassin. He would not be easy to pin down, making the banner all the more vulnerable. It was no longer a piece of fabric, but a symbol of Cestus leadership, and Windos knew that even though he may have hold of the ship, once the banner was gone, so was his grip on the house.

He knew what he had to do. Drawing his robes close to him, he strode toward one of the guarded exits as the Hippoti flanking the doorway stepped aside.

"Where are you going?" asked Varla.

Windos stopped, turned on his heels, and barked out the orders as if he were a blaster spewing out red-hot bolts. "Moorhand, I am giving you temporary command over the Phthians. Use your commlink to redirect their attention to the secondary bridge, and take out Coran and her Nightwraiths."

"And what about you?" Octavian asked.

"I'm going to find the Ethnarc," Windos replied, "and get rid of him before he reaches the bottom of the ship."

With that, he was gone, disappearing through the corridors without so much as a single soldier protecting him. Varla raised her eyebrow at Windos's audacious strategy. It was clear that he was opening himself up to every danger in that ship's hull; then again, sometimes she knew best not to question the Phylarch's motives. Someone would have to take care of the nuisance that fwas the Ethnarc at some point; now Varla had her own command to attend to.

She turned back to the control panel, back to the transmission, as Nami must have been patiently waiting for a reply. Twirling a finger around her auburn hair, Varla let her mind race again, sifting through the pros and cons as if she were sifting her fingers through heavy flour.

"Eliminate the enemy."

***

Nami froze at the Komtur's orders, the commlink rigid by his face. Against the wall ahead of him, Seith lay slumped to the floor, a blaster bolt having torn through his uniform and left a gaping wound in his side. Na'lan'rha stood defiantly against the aim of Sephiroth Kali's blaster, while Kazarelth moved to defend the newer Nightwraith that cowered under Vai's red silhouette. As the Omwati stared angrily into the Iktotchi's eyes, all Vai could do was shake his head at his former Quaestor's audacity.

"Sorry, Kaz," he said. "I gotta do what I can to protect the house."

"You don't deserve to be a member of the Lokhos," Kazarelth hissed, his Force-induced voice startling those newer Nightwraiths who were unused to the way he talked. "So is this how it will end? By killing your fellow Cestians?"

"Unlucky for you, Kaz, I'm following my orders," Nami murmured, shaking off the hesitation in his voice as he placed his comm by his side. "I'm willing to make the appropriate sacrifice for the sake of the Lokhos and the Phylarch. And Komtur Clefsky's orders have been made very clear to me..."

The Kiffar voice faded as he stepped forward, propping his TAW-8GP rifle against his shoulder as he aimed at the already injured Ornil. The Rapax commander stared up at Nami with unpleading eyes, his fingers growing black from where he clutched his cauterized wound.

"Sorry, Ornil," Nami snarled, "but I'm starting with you."

Octavian waited until Windos was fully off of the bridge before he began planning his defense. There was no way he could reach the second bridge in time to mount a full defense. The only thing he could hope to do was to be an annoyance. The same as I have always been. He thought, unhappily. I never do have favorable odds.

He pulled out his comlink and opened a channel to the Phthians. "This is Phthian Octavian Moorhand. I have been instructed by the Phylarch to command you in the defense of the secondary bridge. The enemy may already be there, so be on your guard."

"Any details on what we are fighting?" one of the Phthians asked.

"Yes. You will be fighting rogue members of the Nightwraiths. They are led by one Teia Coran. I advise you be on your guard, as these enemies are force-sensative."

"Wait, you're sending us to fight Force-sensititives? Are you crazy or is the Phylarch crazy?"

"Insubordination will not be tolarated. You will do as you are commanded, or you will be branded a traitor. Am I clear?"

"Yes sir."

"Now, I have a plan that I hope to enact soon..."

*~*~*

Teia and her team were mere moments from the Secondary bridge. All was quiet. Too quiet. Teia thought. Yet, she shrugged off her feelings and continued on.

A squad of Hippoti guarded the blast door to the bridge. They held their rifles in a slightly ready manner, showing Teia that they were slightly alert.

She issued orders to her squad using a system of hand signals. In only a few seconds, the Hippoti lay upon the floor, smoking holes in their heads. Teia ordered her team to breach the door. With unerring accuracy, the team placed the breach charge and blew the lock.

Three Akolyths and one Hippoti awaited them inside. After a brief struggle, they lay slumped over the control panels they had tried to use for cover. Teia pulled out her commlink and opened a channel to Adien. "We have control of the secondary bridge. Surprisingly, we have had very little resistan..."

Her words were cut off as all hell broke loose.

*~*~*

Octavian ran down the halls of the Corsair, hoping against hope that he would make it to the secondary bridge in time to help the Phthians carry out his plan. His breath wheezed in and out of his lungs, burning his throat. I'm getting too damn old for this. He thought.

His commlink beeped, and he pulled it out of his pocket. "Moorhand," he breathed into the mike.

"Sir, stage one of your plan has been enacted. The thermal dets worked appropriately. However, we are meeting heavy resistance."

"Do not stand and fight. Remember the faint."

"Of course sir. Out."

*~*~*

Teia crouched behind the chair she was using as cover, her blaster burping out shots as fast as she could pull her trigger. Damn bastards, how the hell did they know we were going to be here. She pondered.

The one thing that she had been successful on was avoiding the thermal dets the Phthians had thrown in. The scoring marks from the grenades covered the floor. Luckily for Teia, they had only hit two consoles of secondary importance. The main console was undamaged.

Suddenly, the Phthians backed off. They continued to fire, but the range was getting further as they backed away. Teia was confused. Why were they retreating? Weren't they tasked to take back the second bridge? She thought. She signaled two of her team to check the surrounding area of the door.

She watched as the first Nightwraith approached the door. "Looks clear ma'am." he muttered after carefully checking the doorway.

"Very well. Keep that door secure. In fact, close it now. We don't want anymore unpleasant surprises."

"Yes ma'am."

*~*~*

Octavian was almost halfway to the secondary bridge when his commlink buzzed again. "Moorhand, what's going on?"

"Sir, they closed the door, just like you said they would."

"And the permacrete detonators?"

"Are placed as you commanded sir."

"Excellent. Commence phase two immediately."

"Yes sir."

*~*~*

Teia had just pulled out her commlink to inquire on Kazarelth when the blast door burst at the seam. The metal twisted and warped with the power of the explosion but did not break. However, the breach could not be sealed.

Blaster fire poured through the breach, and the Nightwraiths returned it. Teia shouted over the noise to her team. "Nightwraiths, use the chairs to block the breach."

While others returned fire, a few of the Nightwraiths joined Teia and pushing the heavy chairs towards the breach. A blaster bolt whizzed only a hair's breadth from Teia's face, burning the skin. She ignored the pain and continued pushing her chair until it was in front of the breach, forming a half successful block to the blaster fire.

Let's show these bastards. Teia thought sighted her blaster on the first opponent.

*~*~*

Octavian reached the scene five minutes after the detonation. He had to lean against the wall to catch his breath as one of the Phthians ran up to him. "Moorhand, we have successfully pinned them in the second bridge. We are pouring in blaster fire now."

"What, didn't the detonators work?"

"Actually they did sir, but even permacrete detonators won't destroy a good blast door."

"Oh right. Damn. Very well, pour fire upon them. Do not let up."

"Yes sir."

Ji strode purposefully down the corridors of the VSD Corsair’s lower decks, the cat-like Raimi in tow. He had weaved his way down corridors, up corridors, and traversed a seemingly random pattern of decks, all in the effort to leave any followers behind. Ji simply assumed Windos would be coming for him, at a bare minimum. He let his assassin’s instincts take over as he searched for a way out of the beached warship.

Nearing the bottom of the Star Destroyer, the halls took on a decidedly unkempt look, having not been traveled in many years, and the air progressively got thinner and thinner. Ji and Raimi could sometimes hear the manufactured atmosphere inside the ship escaping through the cracks and jagged holes in the ship’s hull, created as the Corsair slid to a stop in the surface of the moon Koras. Ji's mask provided the air he would need as the breathable air in the ship reached zero. Raimi was safe inside his battle armor, now in its Yuriad phase, and assured Ji he was fine.

“We are close, my friend,” Ji said to Raimi, the soft whisper of escaping oxygen blending perfectly with the Ubese’s quiet voice. “I can feel it; its strength is… unbelievable!” Ji stood still, silent for a moment, slowly shaking his head, his black ceremonial braids swaying from side to side.

Ji then closed his eyes, his face going slack, but before Raimi could ask what was wrong, the Quaestor’s eyes popped open again, a gleam appearing in them that had not been there before.

A slow grin spread on the Ethnarc’s face. “I’ve found it, Raimi.” He started walking again, his pace quickening as he led the way through a doorway and down a short flight of metal stairs, the whoosh of escaping air growing louder in their ears. At the bottom they turned left, and the duo quickly found them themselves peering into the darkness of the caves of the old Cestus complex through a jagged tear in the fabric of the Corsair’s hull.

*****

Several decks above his old ally, Windos crept along the hallways of the ship like a thief in the night, unhurriedly stalking Ji K’awill. The Ethnarc had swerved this way and that, hoping to deceive the Phylarch. However, the banner sang to him, like the mythical Sirens, and led him. No amount of deception would delay Windos from finding Cestus’ old banner, no trickery would lead him astray, and he would have his day with Ji.

Windos chuckled to himself while riding a slow moving turbolift down several decks. He imagined the scenario that would greet him at the banner, confronting the traitorous Ji, and killing him slowly. It was actually better than he deserved.

The turbolift doors opened and Windos’ breath was taken away. The sigh of air disappearing through the cracks clearly audible now, and growing in volume as Windos followed the corridor towards the bow of the grounded ship, sure he would find a breach there allowing him access to the caves of the old complex below. Fitting himself with a breath mask of his own design, the Phylarch continued his search.

*****

Nami’s mind reeled as he contemplated what he was ordered to do, and the fact that he intended to carry out those orders. He was going to murder a friend, and a trusted compatriot of Cestus.

The Nightwraith commander sighted his rifle onto Seith Ornil’s forehead, applying slow pressure on the trigger, a soft “sorry” escaping from his lips. Suddenly Nami’s aim was thrown off, the shot firing wide of its mark and boring into the corridor wall. Nalan’rha was on top of him as they both fell to the ground, her clawing at his eyes in defense of her commander as he landed on his back, using their momentum to throw her over his head. The Rapax mechanic collided with the hallway wall with a thud, the crunch of her nose breaking sharp in the echo of the blaster shot, and she lay still surrounded by her Twi’lek tendrils.

Nami snapped his head around, searching for Kazarelth, knowing he was the biggest threat. Ornil crawled across the hallway to tend to Nalan’rha as Nami saw Vai looking up at Kazarelth, their roles reversed; Nami’s Nightwraith was now at the mercy of Teia’s. The Omwati held Vai’s lightsaber before him. The frail Cestian Priest looked his way as Nami leveled his blaster at him, Sephiroth doing the same. Kaz looked unafraid, and shrugged slightly.

“My fight is not with you, although you deserve to be taught a lesson,” he spat at them, his voice sinister through the Force. Dropping Vai’s saber, Kaz calmly turned and walked away, disappearing around the corner, never looking back.

Nami turned to the new member of the Nightwraiths, left behind and alone by Kazarelth, as he wondered how everything had gotten so messed up. Wasn’t it just hours ago his team had been drinking it up together as comrades? This newest member looked up at Nami, afraid of the consequences of his treachery, but Nami was not going to take out his frustration on him.

“Have you learned your lesson, boy, and realized your mistake?” Nami asked the Nightwraith who cowered against the wall.

“YES!” he replied. “Sir!” came the belated response.

“Watch these two,” Nami indicated the Rapax Squadron members, “but keep them alive, and return with them to the command bridge.”

The new Nightwraith nodded emphatically, scrambling over to his former comrades and holding a rifle on them. “Let’s go, you two!” he yelled, a bit too enthusiastically.

Nami lifted his commlink as Sephiroth came up to him and Vai regained his feet and dusted himself off.

“Sorry, boss, I couldn’t bring myself to kill her. We're friends,” Seph said as way of explanation. Nami shot him a quick look, saying without words how he felt. Kali backed away, joining Vai, who was holding his chest and grimacing.

“Varla, this is Nami. Kazarelth is gone. I don’t believe he is a threat any longer, however. At least to us. You may want to watch the bridge, though. I’m sending one of my men to you with two prisoners, Ornil and Nalan’rha.”

“They are alive?” came Varla’s voice, the sharp tone indicating she was upset at this.

“Yes, I am not killing Cestians unless it is unavoidable. Where is Windos?”

“He is gone. I am in charge here and you dare disobey my orders?”

“Today is full of that, it seems.”

“Very well, Commander,” Varl sneered, “but I do not guarantee their safety here.”

Nami paused, his mouth working silently, when the commlink crackled anew.

“WELL?” came the Komturei’s voice.

Nami didn’t respond. Instead, he clicked the commlink off. He would not send them to their deaths.

“Change of plans,” he said. “Take them to Club 19, and stay there. Get drunk if you want, but stay.” The Nightwraith nodded, and set off with the two Rapax members ahead of him, his rifle trained on their backs. Nami wondered what would become of them, and if he was making the right decision.

“And us?” asked Vai, still massaging the spot on his chest that Kaz had Force-pushed him and interrupting Nami’s thoughts.

The Nightwraith commander slowly turned toward his two loyal Nightwraiths. “You OK?” asked Nami. Vai nodded, and Nami reached down to retrieve his helmet. “We are going after Windos, and we are going to help him kill Ji.”

The Phylarch’s march through the lower decks of the Corsair reflected the man’s sombre attitude as he moved room to room. He had continued his pursuit of the Ethnarc without waver, stepping just inside just enough to scan the rooms he passed without frantic movements around them. He seemed to show no concern or any sort of emotion as he continued to search the decks without success for a passage to the old Cestus complex. Indeed, his movements resembled much more of that of a hive-minded individual; who’s only regard was the voice inside his head.

Protect me. It hissed inside the man’s head. I must not be disturbed. Stop any who try.

The message rang in the head of the Phylarch as he kept his composure, coming to a stop as he peered into one of the rooms that was littered with scrap metal and breached bulkhead. Lighting the path before him, Windos held his flashlight firmly as he leapt through the opening and landed in one of the caverns that had served as the old Cestus complex.

Protect me. The voice continued to whisper as the Phylarch march into the dark cavern.

* * *

As the light of the Phylarch’s flashlight disappeared with the him as he exited the corridor, a man stood further down the corridor lying in wait in one of the shadows. The demeanour of the Phylarch seemed off as the man had noticed when he first spotted the Phylarch from a connecting corridor in one of the decks above. Rigid and sombre, the man sensed Windos was not completely himself this day and decided to detour from his goals to follow the Phylarch. Now it seemed, the two had similar interests as Phylarch had lead the man straight to his intended goal.

Something was not right within Cestus. He could sense the battles still rampaging on above him in the hull of the Corsair, but neither the Ethnarc or Phylarch were to be senses above. Both were now deep in the caverns of the Old Cestus Complex; and the man sensed that if he followed only one would be companying him out. However, coldly reflecting the man’s personal philosphies; the man was okay with that, so long as it didn’t weaken the house to its very core like the battles above could do.

“Sirrus,” The man spoke into his activated comlink with almost a hiss accompanying the name, “we’ve stood idle for long enough. Take the others and put an end to the warring factions, let no one be spared who would continue weakening this house.”

“I believe Doni will be most happy to hear he gets to spank some sense into these children.” The haunted voice of Sirrus answered, followed quickly by a screeched laughter that even sent chills down the man’s spine. “But be mindful of the vision to shared with me, Saitou. Only a fool runs with cautious towards their destiny. Embrace it without pause, so that you can rectify the deeds of today.”

Once again the haunted crackle of the mad Sirrus’ laughter rang through the comlink before the connection ceased. Echoing off the gloomy walls, the laughter fainted off in the distance as it chilled Saitou to the bone. It made him uneasy relying on the insanity that is Sirrus, but there was no one better to help unify the factions of Cestus; as even Doni and Welshman feared the cackle of Sirrus.

Swiftly marching down the corridor to where Windos had exited, Saitou could hear the fainted footsteps of heavily armed personnel following behind him. Leaping into the opening to the caverns of the old complex from the breached hull, Saitou hoped to meet up with the Ethnarc and Phylarch before one of their backups arrived

* * *

The air of the secondary bridge was filled with the sounds of blaster fire and their accompanying bolts, as each side returned fire against the other through the breached door. While Teia had yelled out for the breach to be blocked, the Nightwraiths struggled to make it to the opening to do so as one after one was cut down by the blaster fire pouring in. Taking cover behind one of the consuls deep inside the bridge, Azi Dahaka sprayed fire through the opening wildly attempting to cover any attempts made by the Nightwraiths to block the breach. Bolt after bolt emerged from the man’s E-11 blaster until suddenly when pulling the trigger, the weapon merely clicked at the attempt to fire.

“[Expletive Deleted]!” The man bellowed over the noise than called for help, “I need a new clip!”

Franticly, Teia herself ducked and dipped between cover as she made her way through the bridge under fire and fell behind the consul Azi was using for cover.

“Here!” She shouted, pulling 2 clips from her belt and handing them to the short man. “Take two of the Hippotis and exit through the west corridor and flank them while we block the breach!”

“Yes, ma’am!” Azi shouted as he loaded on of the clips into his blaster and tucked the second into his belt. Hopping over the consul to where two Hippotis hide along the south wall and had been taking turns peering out the opening and pouring fire out.

“Follow me, we’re gonna flank them!” Azi shouted after tapping the two on the shoulders to get their attention.

Running towards the exit to the west corridor where Teia already waited to let him out, Azi charged through the open door with the two Hippotis in tow. Holding the charged by raising his fist over his shoulder, Azi heard the wisp of the door closing and sealing behind them as he peer around the corner of the entrance to the corridor. Seeing no one in sight, Azi slowly moved forward down the hall while waving the Hippotis to follow.

Hugging the wall as they approached a connecting corridor leading to hallway containing the firefight, Azi peered around the corner again to insure the coast was clear before waving the Hippotis past. Following closing in a line behind the two Hippotis as they took the lead, the trio made their way to the next connecting corridor. As the Hippotis in front of him stopped, he heard the lead whisper back to him.

“Sir, they have crates blocking the corridor.”

“Probably to prevent this,” Azi sighed as he moved forward to look down the corridor. To his relief he saw several of the attackers hunched over crates in the connecting corridor still focused on firing at the secondary bridge. Tapping the lead Hippotis, he waving the other to follow; Azi whispered; “Stay here, we’ll hit them from behind and you hit them from the side.”

As the halted Hippotis nodded acknowledgement, Azi quickly lead the other further down the corridor to the next connection and made their way cautiously to the south hallway behind the attackers. Peering south first to insure no one would be behind them, Azi waved the Hippotis forward and the two pounced into the hallway and took up firing positions on either side of the hallway. Without paused, Azi and the Hippotis engaged the attackers and immediately the first two bolts that Azi snapped off smashed into the back of one of the attackers and launched him over the crate he had been hunched over.

As Azi and the Hippotis started chewing up the attackers with their blaster fire, Azi noticed fire coming from the connecting west corridor as the second Hippotis engaged his targets of opportunity. In no time, the attackers laid hunched over the crates they had used as defences and Azi quickly ran up to them to check for any more hostiles. As fire from the breached door has ceased too, the entire corridor was left with charred spots aligning its walls, a haze of smoke clouding everything, and the smell of burnt flesh tickling the nostrils of Azi.

As the second Hippotis joined Azi and the first, the trio quickly looked over the bodies of the attackers. Just as Azi was ready to order them back to the secondary bridge, one of the Hippotis called for his attention.

“Sir! We got a live one.”

Quickly stepping over the bodies that littered the corridor, Azi looked down at the individual the Hippotis had been standing over. Recognizing the man Octavian, Azi felt a bit of anger at the chosen allegiance of man. Having taken a blaster bolt to his left arm, Octavian laid curled up behind of the crates and just stared in fear at the Phthian as Azi raised his blaster to the man’s head.

“So?” Azi questioned as he looked up at the Hippotis, “We weren’t asked to take prisoners.”

"Commander! Answer me!"

Static roared at Varla from the other side of the transmission. Nami had broken the connection without a word, and the hair bristled on the woman's head as she thought about what he could be doing now. If anything, she felt like a Dark Jedi, having to babysit those who could barely bring themselves to kill their precious "friends." She had often had questions about the way the Brotherhood functioned...but this was ridiculous.

Moving away from the console, Varla turned to face whatever scrambled soldiers remained waiting for orders. It was clear that the focus was being dragged elsewhere, and she could only guess people were now following the Phylarch, into the depths of the old Complex. And from Nami's sudden disconnect and from her own intuition, she was fairly confident that he and his Nightwraiths were heading to the deepest parts of the ship as well. But she wouldn't follow. She had orders here, and she was not willing to throw herself into a battle when she was not a warrior.

She keyed in a transmission and Octavian's voice, rough from heavy breathing, emerged. "This is a bad time, Komtur.

"Moorhand, where are you?" Varla demanded. But she didn't get a response as she heard a sudden snap and shuffle from the other end of the transmission. Instead of Octavian, the gruff voice of Azi Ahaka could be heard, and the woman furrowed her brow distastefully at the timbre of his words.

"Komtur Clefsky. This is your good friend Ahaka. Coran and I have Moorhand here, and we're thinking of doing away with him. After all, we can't have you nuisances hindering the Ethnarc's plans."

"Planning to kill him, then?" Varla muttered. "Shame...he's a decent soldier, Ahaka, and a welcome asset to the Lokhos. Better not pull that trigger too quickly."

"Don't try instilling doubts into me, Clefky. You may be a strategist, but I'm not an idiot."

"If you're not an idiot, why aren't you following your enemies to the Complex below? May as well take care of the real nuisances."

Varla waited for a reply; she was bluffing, and she knew it. No matter how sure she was of Nami's possible descent into the Complex, not even a strategic mind could guess where a man was heading without the Force to assist. But all she could do was see if the Dark Jedi with Ahaka would respond to her words, and she got a reasonable reward for being patient.

"Azi...she's right," she heard Teia's voice. "I can sense the other Nightwraiths moving toward the lower levels of the ship. And come to think of it...I think Windos is ahead of them!"

"I sense it, too," came Frey's response. "Best not to dawdle here. We need to go where everyone else is going, now. Otherwise we're not much help to the Ethnarc."

"You can't be serious," Ahaka snapped bitterly. "Can't I at least kill the guy first?"

"Best to save your ammo for bigger fish, Ahaka," Varla said, and she wished she could see the simpering look on the man's face. "I'll have men come down to retrieve Moorhand. If they find him dead when they get there...I'll have your head mounted on the wall of my quarters. Understood?"

And with that, she switched off the transmission, grimacing at her own words. She was not someone who enjoyed acting like a sentimentalist. But Moorhand was valuable, a man with similar education to her own, and a good strategist. If she were to fulfill the Phylarch's orders efficiently, she would need him to further enforce her plans. She would not sacrifice too much for the sake of her own steel heart.

Moving across the bridge, Varla stepped toward the viewing portal, while two Phthians passed by the entryway carrying an injured Akolyth crying out for death. The tower would surely fall to the hands of the Ethnarc's men with Nami gone...but now the Cestians' priorities were elsewhere. Varla sneered at the idea of useless bloodshed down below as her eyes seemed to meld with the outside darkness of the Koros cosmos.

***

The caves were still accessible - barely, though. Ji and Raimi moved slowly, cautiously, taking heed of the fact that any possible disturbances to the still intact corridors would cause the earth to collapse in on them. Oxygen rushed madly into their lungs from their appropriate breathing equipment, and Ji coughed and wished he could wipe the spittle from the inside of his respirator. But there was no delaying now. The presence of the banner was growing stronger with every step.

He knew that Windos was gaining on them. He wasn't a fool - a Dark Jedi could sense another following him easily, and it wasn't easy for one or the other to play hide and seek or tag in this regard. Scraping his hands against the rock, Ji let some of the wall beside him crumble in order to allow a wider passage through the already narrow opening.

"Careful, man," he heard Raimi whisper, but paid no mind to it.

The Nightwraiths, too...were they all coming after him? Ji could feel the weight of the Corsair above him, as if attempting to intimidate him from above. He strained to find light in the Koros underground but found none. He sidestepped a bit to allow Raimi to dart past him, his smaller lighter body's color noticeable in the dimness of their new arena.

"Ji...can you still sense it?"

"Sense what?"

"The banner."

"Yes. Move to the left. Keep going."

The banner was calling to Ji. Or more accurately, it was now screaming at him. He suddenly felt as if he were dreaming again. All the images he had seen before in his sleep were rushing back at him, with every turn and every stumble through the fallen earth of the complex. It was as if the banner had a mind of its own and was losing patience. It was no longer Come to me. It was Hurry up.

Hurry up.

The air was growing ever thinner around him, the caves swollen with hydrogen. Ji gasped for breah as he pulled himself through another narrow passage. His respirator was growing heavy on his head and foggy from his panting.

Hurry up.

He gripped the walls fervently, finding holding as he raised himself onto risen earth as if he was ascending a ladder. He dropped through tunnels, spirals, watching the dim silhouette of his Eklektor scurrying ahead of him.

Hurry! Now!

"Ji!"

NOW!

"Ji, look!"

It seemed brighter here than in any of the "rooms" that they had wandered in this deep abyss. Ji stopped his fast pace and let his boots skid beneath him, kicking up dry rock and scattering it like shards of blackened glass. Raimi was circling something, something half-buried in the earth, tattered and frayed but very much intact. Ji thought he could discern a symbol on the object.

He exhaled. The object seemed affected. It fluttered in the still air, like fabric.

He had found it.

Ji stepped to Raimi's side, knelt down to gather the corner of his newfound treasure in his fist. It felt like velvet in his hand, and he felt hesitant to move it. But there it was, the very thing that he had desired and the threat to his own house. But he would have it. The banner of House Cestus stared back at him as if with eyes, waiting to be unearthed as shadows farther back in the earth followed the tracks that their targets had left behind.

Saitou shuddered from the thin air, cold temperature, and the cackle of the former Krath High Priest. Sirrus’ laughter echoed in the Tarentae’s mind, augmenting his own madness that was ever encroaching. Perhaps it was a vision of the future and a reflection of the past.

Adjusting his facial apparatus, he breathed deeply. The Zero-G training suit was an unfamiliar addition. Oddly, he did not need it upon entering the lower decks. This curious fact lingered in the Pontifex’s mind as he descended into the old complex. No longer suppressing his Force imprint, he followed Windos, who was consumed by his single-minded quest to claim the sacred relic of Cestus for himself.

-*-*-*-

Varla stared out into the vast nothingness beyond the viewing portal. The darkness was all consuming, save for small specks of light from distant stars. A new idea formulated in the strategist’s mind. The Force-wielders were indeed powerful, but so too are the myriad stars in the galaxy. Yet they are nothing when viewed in the vast emptiness of space. It was time to rethink her position.

“What news do we have concerning the secondary command structure?”

An aide, who was monitoring the comm-link chatter, grimaced. “Our advance has been completely repelled. Moorhand is back in our custody and returning here.” The aide quickly suddenly went silent to concentrate on the audio feed.

Varla walked toward the aide, but noticed something out of place on the atmospheric controls. How could she have missed it earlier?

“All reports mention movement to the lowest decks. Lingering fighting in other areas.”

The aide’s flow of information reached Varla ear and was parsed, but she gave no indication of the sort. Decks 79 and 80 were pressurized.

“Pull all personnel away from the lower decks. If we cannot pacify our raging summit, we can at least contain them.” Varla entered commands on the console, klaxons blaring on the lowest decks to signal the impending return to a vacuous state.

-*-*-*-

Ji cradled his treasure with a deep reverence. As the banner unfurled, both he and Raimi could feel some sort of power ebbing and flowing as the fabric revealed the piercing eyes of the owl and the venomous viper, which erupted from the gaze.

Seize your destiny!

Legitimacy and power called them. They heeded the call and had now assembled. Windos turned a corner, finally closing in on Ji and Raimi, who were unsurprised by his presence. At opposite ends of the passageway, they glanced upon the contested icon and then one another. Without hesitation, word or sign, Windos ignited his lightsaber and charged. Ji released his grasp on the banner and did likewise.

Hearing the sounds of battle, Saitou quickened his pace. He knew well that his window of opportunity had opened, but could just as quickly close…

Varla turned to the door as Octavian stepped in, escorted by two Akolyths. His left forearm was charred and blackened; unuseable in its present state. Octavian saluted Varla with his good arm. "At your service, Komtur."

Varla returned the salute, less formally, and dismissed the Akolyths. As soon as they had left, Octavian spoke. "Ma'am, with all do respect, you should have let me die. I failed the Phylarch and death at the hands of the enemy is far better than death at the hands of a Dark Jedi. My honor..."

He was inturrupted by Varla's fist colliding with his midsection. The air left his lungs and he fell to his knees. "I don't care about your honor Moorhand. I care about your brain and all the strategic imperial training that is stored there. I couldn't lose that asset just because you failed a task."

Octavian moaned in reply; his breathing haggard from the blow. Looking up into his superior's eyes, he knew she was right. If their side was to win, they would need the training both he and she had been given in the Empire. The Force-users could have their little swordfights, but the real battle would be won by the men holding the blasters.

When he had caught his breath, Octavian stood. "What would you have me do Komtur?" He asked, expectant.

*~*~*

The first blow seemed to resound around the Corsair. As their sabers locked, the Ethnarc and the Phylarch stared into each others eyes. Both knew that only one would survive the fight; both knew that there could only be one that walked away. Both were determined to be that one.

The Eklektor whipped his lightsaber from his belt and leapt towards Windos, eager to kill for the Ethnarc...

*~*~*

Octavian pondered his task. Keeping Dark Jedi corralled is a job that is near impossible. Still, with the right amount of men, it could be possible. Plus, he wouldn't be working alone, he and Varla would be putting their minds together.

Varla did not appear concerned on the outside, but Octavian knew that her mind was calculating the thousands of possibilities of outcomes from a decision. Octavian did not think that way, he was much more straightforward; do the job in the quickest and most efficient way possible.

Finally Varla turned to Octavian. "Ok Moorhand. Here's my strategy. Change it as you see fit..."

(Part 1 by Sirrus)

Teia Coran, flanked on either side by several of the Nightwraiths under her command, hurried her pace a little. There had been too many distractions, too many obstacles in her journey to the caverns beneath the Corsair. Although she and her followers had seen plenty of action already, the true goal remained the banner of House Cestus itself. For all she knew, Ji and the others had already claimed it and she would not be needed… Or Windos and his allies had discovered it first, and now authority rested with them. In that case, what would happen to her and those members of the Nightwraiths who had cast their lot in with her? She wasn't just fighting for her life, but those who had risked their own lives just by choosing to stay loyal to her rather than the established leadership of the House. It was a lot of responsibility, and she had only just begun to develop a confidence in her abilities as she climbed the ranks of the Brotherhood… She wished she was sitting in her quarters now, singing a favorite tune to herself, instead of rushing against time to reach a destination where she may have very well been too late to make a difference.



"Behind us!" one of her companions shouted. Before she could whip her head around, she heard the blaster shots. She did not need to see who was firing at her and her unit. As she hugged the wall, she knew who it was. She had not been looking forward to this encounter. Even if she were not tired and weary of conflict, facing down Tier-Avis Nami would have been a daunting prospect.



Nami's mechanical fingers curled around his lightsaber as it flickered to life with a loud electrical buzz. He casually waved it through the air in front of him. "Teia! Come out here!" Nami barked, raising his voice above the sounds of battle. "If you have the courage to stand against your betters, show me your bravery face-to-face!"



Teia swallowed hard, but she did not waver. She was past the point of hesitation. She stepped out to meet eyes with the Kiffar and kept her combat rifle locked in on him as well. "Do you honestly think you could reach me with your lightsaber before I shot you dead in your tracks?" she replied, a crooked grin upon her face. "Such arrogance. You and your kind deserve to have your power taken away."



Nami allowed himself a smile before he broke out in a sprint towards Teia. Teia smiled right back. She did not shoot him; she did not even fire a shot. She wanted him to close the distance so she could engage him in hand-to-hand. When Nami was almost on top of her, she reached out, pulled him close and hooked her arm underneath his armpit. Using his own momentum, she lifted Nami up and threw him forward. Rather than risk falling on his own blade, Nami shut off his lightsaber before he made contact with the ground. Quickly, he tucked and rolled, and was almost as swiftly back on his feet as he had been taken off them. Crouching down, he wore a wide grin as he glared up at Teia. "Was that Hapan or Dulon?" he asked.



"Dulon," she responded coolly. She lunged forward, raising her foot to connect with Nami's jaw. The Kiffar jumped backwards, however, and while the arc of her leg was graceful, Teia hit nothing at all. Nami was more fortunate, however, as his fist crashed into her sternum, bending Teia over and sending her to one knee. He was about to click his lightsaber back on when she jammed a heel into his ankle, almost sending Nami sprawling sideways. As they continued to go back-and-forth with their blows, so did their respective teams of Nightwraiths, most of whom had given up shooting at one another with their blasters and were now engaging in melee combat in the narrow hallways.



Octavian had approached without being noticed very easily – as had the squadron of battle droids that accompanied him. Things had worked out according to plan this time – better than expected, actually. At this rate, Teia's and Nami's units would kill each other, and whomever survived this skirmish would be easy pickings for the robotic death-dealers behind him. He had been beaten, berated and almost killed several times already, but it looked like in this instance Octavian would have the last laugh. He still missed his teeth, though.



Teia was about to finish the second half of a jab-and-uppercut combination when she felt a familiar imprint in the Force. Someone she knew was nearby… Rather, someone she had met recently. It was then that she faintly saw the figure down the hall from them, in the direction of the exit. The Force told her it was Octavian, the man whom she had spared earlier. She would not make that mistake again.



"You hesitate?" Nami sounded genuinely surprised. But she followed her eyes and saw the figure as well. "What's this? Who's that?"



"Someone who knows more than I thought," Teia said. "How about it? Would you rather kill an old comrade, or fight a common enemy?"



Nami did not need to ask twice. He turned on his heels and began running down the hall. Teia came close behind – and behind them both were their Nightwraiths, disengaging from one another and, unquestioningly, following their commanders. Plunging into the ranks of the battle droids, the Dark Jedi made short work of their mechanical opponents. Lightsabers slashed through cold steel and gears, spilling sparks and fluid onto the ground.



Octavian had turned to run and had made it several meters before Nami used the Force to halt him in his tracks. He and Teia approached the man as Nami pinned him against a wall, his feet hovering several inches above the ground.

~*~*~*~

(I nearly pulled my eyes out with a spoon writing this. Big thanks to Saitou, Nami, and Sirrus for helping.)

Windos and Ji glared at each other through the purple and molten pane of locked sabers. A hate of incomprehensible intensity burned within the Equites. Taking a step back from one another the duel began, each combatant circling the other, preparing to issue the first strike. Their focus was so narrow that they failed to notice the diminutive, armored Kushiban bolt for the tunnel back to the Corsair, using the Force to balance the oversized banner, tucked neatly underneath an arm.

As Raimi exited through the tunnel, Ji, obsidian saber held in an elegant Makashi style, sprang at Windos. The spirit of Windos jerked and juked its possessed vehicle of flesh like a puppeteer pulling the strings of a marionette, and, in the same moment the Ubese's blow was deftly pushed aside, the riposte was already cooking its way through the low hanging cloud of dust permeating the stale air toward Ji's throat.
Twisting in a macabre fashion, the abnormally tall Ubese dodged the counterattack and leapt backward, putting a good several meters between himself and the former Phylarch.

"The banner is already on its way back to the Corsair," wheezed Ji's burned out vocal chords quietly through the metallic enunciator of the mask. "If you surrender I can assure you a quick execution."

With rage only a wielder of the Dark Side could muster, an earth shattering roar burst forth, not from the Coruscanti, but from the very spirit dwelling within. The indurate walls of the cavern vibrated menacingly, and tiny pebbles fell from the cracked ceiling as Windos exploded forth at his former partner. Footfalls kicked up tiny plumes of dust, lingering in the air for several seconds before falling back to the earthen rock below.

Back and forth, blows were traded between the Jedi. The perfect harmony of the lightsaber duel was only broken by the occasional, gut wrenching hiss and subsequent yelp of pain or shout of fury. Purple and orange blades batted one another back and forth and soon, as the two combatants circled and attacked each other, the dust from the floor filled the air and visibility was reduced to absolute nil. Only the bright sabers and beacons of fury felt through the Force gave away the position of the Jedi.

Although Windos was much older than Ji he was nowhere near as fast and, before long, found himself utterly on the defensive, blocking blow after deadly blow. True to his form he managed to redirect several of Ji's attacks and counter with a bone-cracking lunge of the fist or open-palmed strike to the face, but he had yet to sneak his saber through the Ubese's defenses to do any substantial damage. Only the absolute and omnipresent rage pumping through every vein and capillary in his body gave his muscles the speed they needed to preserve his life.

Adrenaline coursed through his body as Ji pressed his advantage against Windos. He had known he was the more powerful of the two. Now he would prove it! He could sense Windos' stamina wearing thin and, although his own energy reserves were beginning to run low, the excitement of the fight and fervor of his convictions kept the attacks swift and precise. The Ethnarc's enthusiasm was soon shattered as what felt like a metal pipe smashed into his gut hard enough to knock him from his feet and send him flying across the room, out of sight of the Phylarch.

Standing upright and recovering from the Force attack, Windos took a deep breath, calming the raging fury into a mild undertone of hate, and catching his breath. Though his eyes could not see his opponent, the Force cut through the shroud of dust to paint a picture of the scene. Ji lay sprawled upon the ground, up against the far wall. The obsidian saber Windos could not detect, but assumed it to be somewhere on the Ubese's person.

Inky, black blood seeped through the mesh filters of Ji's respirator. However, his emerald green eyes shone with every bit of intensity as they ever had. He could feel the grime falling upon him as he struggled, unarmed, to his feet. Broken ribs and a strained spine screamed in agony as Ji stood, proud and silent as only an Ubese could be.

The purple saber practically exploded from behind the dust screen, driving ferociously toward Ji's midsection. The Ethnarc twisted to avoid the blow and, grabbing hold of Windos main hand bent it in a manner it wasn't meant to bend. The saber, still activated, clattered to the ground as Windos instinctively drove a well trained fist directly into the side of Ji's head, sending both combatants careening to the ground below.
As the dust began to settle around Ji and Windos, Saitou strode into the room, heavy and elegant night-black robes fluttering about his figure. He held the banner upright in one hand and a semi-conscious Raimi upside down by a leg in the other. Before him, the Phylarch held the Ubese in a Force choke while Ji smashed Windos' face over and over with his fists.

Dropping Raimi to the ground, Saitou drew his lightsaber...

“Komtur Clefsky!”

“What is it?” Varla looked over at a deck officer, noticing his concerned countenance.

“Ma’am. We’re being hailed by the Corsair.” An arched eyebrow was met with a quick explanation. “The Majestic-class Heavy Cruiser is hailing us.” The remaining bridge officers and non-commissioned personnel were now also intrigued.

“The Consul has arrived?”

“We are to surrender immediately or be destroyed by orbital bombardment.”

“Put them through.” Varla adjusted her uniform and sash. There was no time to tidy up the surrounding nor was there any point. The clan summit was already aware of the situation.

-*-*-*-

Octavian Moorhand cursed the day. Mistake after mistake had been made. He could not fathom how he had gone from a respected Imperial officer to a mere rag-doll at the hands of a Dark Jedi cult.

“I’m going to enjoy ripping out your heart and displaying your head at Deck 19.” Nami absorbed and savored the moment. This pest would finally be exterminated. However, it was once again not his time. The base communications roared to life.

All hostilities are to cease at once! Repeat. All hostilities are to cease at once.

Teia scoffed. Some no-name minion was attempting authority? However, her smirk quickly vanished as the announcement continued.

The MJHC is in orbit, ready to bombard the complex. Consul Oberst has approved our destruction if we do not comply.

The message continued to repeat. Moorhand had acquiesced to his seemingly unavoidable fate. He went limp and prepared for the end to come. Teia and Nami could faintly feel the presence of the consul. However, would he be so picky as to miss this one petty excuse for an officer?

Octavian collapsed to the ground. Tier-Avis curled his nose in disgust, just shy of spitting on the ground… or Moorhand. “I’ll deal with you later. Do not feel at ease walking the corridors alone. You never know when I will finish our business.”

All remaining battle droids powered down their weapons. The Revolutionary and Traditionalist Nightwraiths still able to fight deactivated their sabers. The battle was done. They were mighty warriors, but the Tarentae armada amassed far overhead was an insurmountable threat. Now it was time to consider the repercussions of the insurrection and test the mercy of a fractured clan.

-*-*-*-

“That will suffice, Windos.” Saitou placed the banner on the ground by Raimi. He was not worried about either going anywhere soon. The Phylarch maintained his grip on Ji’s neck until his concentration was disrupted by a quick blow to his own. The telekinetic strike also deflected the Ethnarch’s fists, which continued to lash out in short spasms.

Ji drew in labored breaths, but the damage to his spine was sufficient. Assistance would be required, or plenty of time to heal – even with the Force – before he would be able to stand erect, let alone fight effectively. His gaze upon his adversary went in and out of focus. The banner no longer called him, but its presence was palpable.

“That will suffice.” The Pontifex stared into the blue eyes of his fellow Tarentae, his Aedile, his final obstacle. Windos rose silently and with moderate effort. He had expended a great deal of energy subduing the Ethnarch, but his fanatical zeal and firm resolve to claim the banner was undiminished. A second wind was within him.

Drawing the saber crafted personally by Muz, the very one he was loath to ever use in battle due to its exquisite craftsmanship and beauty, Windos brought to life his own pillar of purple. The predominance of the color disturbed Saitou, also highly devoted to the Krath Order, as he stared down a man before his time, a man he could easily have been. However, the time for pondering had not yet come.

There was no signal. There was no yell. The Phylarch and the Komtur lunged at one another. Just as a child plays with magnets that both attract and repel their counterpart, the blades of the two adversaries met and deflected. Saitou would not yield ground, exposing the trophy-relic, nor would Windos relent.

Summoning Dark Side energy and parrying an attack on his throat in true Dun Moch fashion, Saitou conjured a sudden illness in his enemy. Launching the contents of his stomach, Windos succeeded in a single riposte, searing cloak, suit and flesh of the Pontifex. Smoke curled out and up from the right torso.

-*-*-*-

“Detonation in three, two, one!” A cone of debris scattered as the explosive device created a hole in the old Cestus complex. One assault transport and an accompanying assault shuttle loomed over members of the 2nd brigade’s 10th engineers and two infantry squads from the 1st Battalion 3rd regiment. Troops poured into the structure, under strict orders to find Saitou and bring him to the clan summit. All others were to be dealt with at the discretion of the team.

“The main chamber should lie beyond this ceiling. Ready explosives!” Combat engineers quickly calculated the best place insertion point and the infantry prepared to jump into another hastily made tunnel. Hopefully, the Dark Jedi had finished with their games. There was no need to engage them – these soldiers were not sent to die.

-*-*-*-

Dust and debris fell like snow from the ceiling, but were unobservable in the midst of the haze created by the struggle on the floor. Flashes of violet energy pulsed throughout the dust, resembling sheet lightning of severe atmospheric storms. A suitable clap of thunder emanated, reintroducing the Dark Jedi once more to clan forces. The blast dispersed the cloud to reveal Windos’s bleeding head. He had withstood Ji and Saitou, but the very walls of Cestus were the beginning of his demise.

One combat engineer caught a glimpse of the battle’s final moment. Realizing his opportunity, Saitou pierced the heart of Windos, ripping his saber to the left through his ribs, severing the arm, only to return to the right, decapitating his foe. A final sweep to the left removed Windos’ legs and the expired Aedile collapsed to the ground in pieces.

“Lord Saitou, we were sent by the Consul himself to escort you.” The engineer’s voice did not betray his fear. Although not engaged in combat himself, he had the calm of a seasoned military man. The fear would come later.

Brushing some of the dust from his attire, Saitou peered down at the carnage before him. He picked up the elegant saber of the fallen Tarentae and tucked it into his cloak. Returning solemnly to the banner, Saitou rolled it up and tucked it under his left arm. Picking up Raimi in his right hand, he nodded to the troops.

“Bring the Ethnarch with us. His service to Tarentum has not ended.” The medic knew better than to protest upon seeing the extent of the Ubese’s wounds, but motioned to fellow infantry to aid in his transport.

-*-*-*-

And so begins a new era of Tarentum.