It's Nothing Personal, Or Is It?”

Mount Dahkan
Aeotheran
Orian System

Malisane looked round the room, his eyes focusing on Deckard Kaelen First Minister of of the Aeotheran government. “I am displeased with this unrest in the outer sectors Minister,” he said coldly, “production targets are down. This will not be tolerated.”
The usually confident and placid official looked nervously back at the heavily scarred Sith. “I agree Governor,” he replied, “the Aeotheran Security Force are working to contain it, however production has spread across the planet faster than we are able to adapt our security patrols, we have limited resources.”
“I do not want to hear excuses Minister,” Malisane replied, “when we established the government it was designed to work together, to balance profit with stability. You have an entire bureaucracy designed to work together to achieve that aim. If it is imbalanced that is your failing and your subordinates.”
“I understand Governor,” the man replied.
Malisane turned to the female officer in the room. “Commander Miros, you will assign a battalion to assist the ASF. You will also meet with their officers and make it clear what is expected of them. Any who do not give you confidence you may remove.”
“Yes Governor.” she replied coldly.
Malisane turned to the final person present. “Commodore, what is our fleet status?”
Commodore Krill clicked a button and figures appeared in front of them. “We have near maximum personnel Governor,” he replied, “and all ships have reported as operational. We have had to reassign Task Force Besh from Inos to Aeotheran to plug the gap in our planetary security caused by the loss of the skyhook.”
The Sith scowled. “I understand. What our our fleet facilities?”
Krill shrugged. “Again, we have had to move our resupply and repairs functions to the main clan bases until we establish a permanent solution. This has delayed operations somewhat.”
“Very well,” Malisane replied, “anything else?”
“No Governor, you will receive a formal report.”
“Then you are dismissed.”

A short while later Malisane stood on the balcony of his quarters, looking out across the snow surrounding the mountain the Dakhan house had made their home. He was unusually pensive. Recent events had bothered him. On the face of it getting away from the bureaucracy of running the House and its planet had been a welcome break, and away from the usual members he had just been another fighter amongst the pirates and the members of the other clans. It had been good.
However the fact so many of his clan had taken up with the Severians, who were dubious allies at least based on recent history, still bothered him. There had been justifications from others, especially in the Summit, and some had seemed as genuinely sad he had joined the Tenixir as others had been pleased he was not going to be with them. It bothered him though. The Clan had no business supporting those who had betrayed the Brotherhood in the past and would again when it suited them.

The loss of Marakith was also irritating. When he had been persuaded to return the skyhook a year earlier he had never intended it to be a permanent solution. After all that had happened to it the station had not been what it was, and confidential engineers reports cast doubt it could be maintained much longer than a year or so before it became mothballed. It more bothered him that having recaptured, the Orian system had once again so nearly fallen. And one of their most secure facilities had been taken. This was despite the Clan fleet being stronger than it ever had been. Perhaps the leadership ought to be focusing on that rather than shoring up supposed allies?

He turned as he heard a beep at his door. He walked through the balcony doors and into the sparsely decorated room. “Enter.”
His Aedile entered. Adept Sanginius Entar had been working with the Sith for a year and to be honest there was no closeness between them. Malisane respected that the former Consul had stepped up when the position had been vacant but that was all. For the best part Malisane was content for the Adept to partly look after the members and partly carry out his duties for the Shadow Academy on Nesolat. As far as he could tell the Aedile was happy Malisane was not often around and left the running of the house and planet to himself and the military and civilian officials.
“Was there something Adept?”
Sanguinius shook his head. “Nothing of importance, Quaestor,” he replied, “all members have returned safely from Dandoran. We have no casualties or major injuries.”
“That is satisfactory,” Malisane replied, “was there anything else?”
“No not as such,” the Elder replied, “I am due to return to Nesolat in the morning. I was planning on attending the meeting with the Senior Staff before I turn in though, I thought I would check in with you first.”
“I have attended to it Aedile,” Malisane replied, “they have departed for their duties."
Sanguinius raised an eyebrow, “You attended it?”
Malisane met the elders gaze. “I did. Is that a problem Aedile?”
The passive Elder shook his head. “No, you usually show no interest though.”
The Quaestor shrugged. “I am looking to take care of more. Things are going well here on Aeotheran, but they can improve. And you have your many duties with the Shadow Academy and Regents office. We will have to see about lightening your load here.”
Sanguinius looked unusually nonplussed. “Very well. We will see how that goes, I suppose.”
“Good,” Malisane replied calmly, “then I will not detain you. If you see Malik tell him I want to see him.”
Sanguinius nodded and left.

A short while later the other Adept entered the room. “You wished to see me Malisane?”
“Yes Malik,” he replied. In truth he was no closer to the Neti that he was to the others in the House, but he had been not close to him for much longer. “I have the assignments for Sapphire Squadron.” He produced a datapad.
The experienced elder looked them over slowly, and then his eyes raised up to meet the Quaestor's. “This is just routine surveillance and crew motivational training,” he replied.
“And?”
“It is hardly work for our members. And reasonably experienced ASF agent or personnel advisor could carry these out.”
“It is good to keep our members busy Malik,” Malisane countered.
“It will take up much of their time and take them away from the Mountain or their other homes. It will be greatly unpopular.”
“Perhaps,” Malisane replied, “but being a member of Sapphire Squadron brings many privileges and authority for its members. If necessary remind them of that.”
The Neti did not scowl or even change his placid features. He merely studied the Sith coldly. “As you wish, Quaestor.”
Malisane nodded. “That is all sorted then.”
“Was there anything else?” Malik asked.
“Yes,” the Sith replied,” Commodore Krill informs me is has been necessary to pull our forces back from Inos to strengthen them here. With recent events with the Sigmas and the Unchained we should not turn our back on that area and get caught out again. I would like you to take the Satyr and do a routine patrol. See if you can sense anything that may be of concern to us. Take your time there is a lot of territory to cover.”
The Neti's features finally cracked. “You want me to do that? A patrol?”
Malisane nodded. “Yes. No one else in the House or perhaps even the Clan has your unique abilities. I would trust no one more. I have ordered the cruiser to prepare to depart in the morning. They will be waiting for you.”
Malik looked directly into the Sith's eyes, and Malisane felt the Neti's mind brush against his own. “Very well, it will be as you wish.” He gave a stiff bow and left.

Malisane waited for him to go and then touched the communicator on his desk. “Get me Commander Miros on a secure channel.”
There was a pause and a hologram appeared showing the the cold features of the officer in charge of the House's ground forces” “Yes Governor?” she asked with a salute.
“I have some surveillance targets for you Commander,” Malisane told her, “I will send you details and the methods I want using.”

Dandoran – The Factory

Far from the lights and glamour of the hotels, the casinos and the pleasure barges, lays a squat grey stone building in a rocky deserted area of the planet with emptiness for hundreds of miles in any direction. The building has sheer walls, only small windows, heavy metal doors and a flat roof with weapon turrets and small shuttle bays. A century or more ago this used to be the harshest maximum security facility on the planet, where local and off world prisoners served their sentences with little hope of early release or rescue. Now it is an even more sinister place than before, for this is where the helpless who owe money to the Hutts try and work off their debts against spiralling interest rates, or slaves brought in to work to death before being replaced.

Much of the original layout of the old prison has been kept, with the small cells off the balcony landings being even more stark and basic for the new residents and those of the overseers are only little better. Below them the large communal areas have been turned over to workstations and assembly lines where the workers toil for eighteen hours a day with only short breaks in between. Everything from electronics to basic food stuffs to narcotics have their own area, and the overseers walk amongst the pour souls labouring watching for signs of slacking or theft and are ready to use a shock rod for any transgression.

The lighting is dim , the only lights being those hanging from the balconies above or smaller lamps above the more specialist workstations. There are a large number of competing smells from damp and mould, sweat and body odour, stale dropped food and melted plastic, merging into a general miasma that pervades over the area so long that those there barely notice it but immediately hits anyone entering like an assault.

The Factory is a place of despair and hopelessness. A few come believing they can work off their debt and leave, but soon reality hits and then acceptance. There is no escape from the factory, unless one is willing to fight their way out and get others to do so. And only the boldest or most desperate would be prepared to make an attempt to leave, or take the place for themselves and free those within, or become their new master.

Attacking the Clone.

The Middle Of Nowhere
Dandoran
Doran System

Senth looked around at the ruins around him, amongst the empty wasteland, and sighed. He was not supposed to be here. He was an officer of the Orian Warhost, who whatever the actual members of Naga Sadow were up to, were not involved in this matter. Had it not been for the urgent need to speak to the Consul he would not be. It should have been a fairly easy journey, and it was until his shuttle had been shot down by whichever of the opposing forces had taken a disliking to a ship without the right recognition signals. Having bailed out before it crashed at speed, he was now stuck here. Wherever that was.

The clone commando tried his communicator again. There was no response. The range on them was limited unless there was a relay station nearby. After a few minutes studying the datapad he began to walk. Then he stopped. A figure could be seen in the distance. They were stood still. Senth ducked behind a block of ruined masonry and focused on the figure. He, she or it was armed, with a blaster rifle, and seemed to be wearing oddly damaged armour. Much of the basic shell was in place, but here and there were odd distortions here and there, like some sort of crystals had pushed their way through it. There was no way of knowing whether it was an enemy, neutral or ally. Senth reached to his back and unhooked his Relby V-10, checking the grenade launcher was loaded. Then he watched. The figure was still stood still, then slowly they turned, the head moving in each direction, and then it seemed to focus on the ruins Senth was crouched in, and began to walk forward, quickly but with a strange gait.

Senth trained his sights on the figure and studied it. As it drew closer he could see that the odd crystal formations appeared to emerge from its flesh, though whether they were grafted on or grown from within he did not know. Senth kept his sights on the figure, not wanting to draw attention to himself. I was possible whatever it was had decided to explore the ruins and had no idea he was there. Or maybe not. Then as he watched the figure suddenly sped up, and a blaster bolt scythed over the clone's head, followed by a second one. Senth pulled his own trigger and a shot hit the enemy square in the chest, where a gap in the torn armour revealed a patch of crystal. The enemy rocked back slightly, but kept running, still firing towards where Senth was crouched. A second shot from the clone took it in the chest again, with no discernable effect, and a shot at its head caused it to stumble slightly, but it continued, still dumb firing towards him. Senth sighed and aimed at the figure, and with a loud crack a grenade left his weapon and hit the enemy, the resulting explosion shaking the rocks around them and engulfing the strange trooper in flames.

When the smoke cleared the clone gave a quick nod of satisfaction, and stood, walking slowly towards the figure. It was sprawled flat on its back, smoking and patches of the crystal were burned away. Cautiously the clone approached it, blaster held ready. He stopped, studying the thing with a morbid fascination. There were still traces of humanity left in the creature, but only in small patches between the crystals and the torn armour. If there were more of them then this needed reporting back to the Summit, if he could find them. If he had a vehicle he would have taken its body back for analysis, but he did not fancy dragging the thing to civilisation. He removed one hand from the weapon butt and reached for his data pad, raising it up. An image would have to do. It was at that point the creatures left hand moved and a blaster bolt from one vambrace scorched towards the clones chest.

Senth reacted immediately, dropping the datapad and hitting the button on his belt in one moment. As his jetpack fired he surged upwards, gripping his rifle once more as the creature fired again, a jet of flame following his ascent and scorching the legs of his armour. Senth felt the heat from beneath the sealing as he fired his weapon back at the creature, flying backwards to create some distance between them. His shots hit the creature once more and he saw it twitch as the blasts hit its crystal armour. Senth felt an impact hit his armour but not penetrate. He landed amongst the ruins, ducking behind a column. He saw the creature continue to aim and fire at him, moving forward and holding its rifle one handed as it reached down for a grenade. Senth fired towards it, several shots striking it and knocking it back slightly but not deterring it. As it raised the grenade and threw it in one smooth motion, the clone fired his jetpack again. It stuttered slightly, raising him up, but not enough to be fully clear as the impact of the blast shook him and as his arm hit a pillar he dropped his weapon, sending it bouncing across the stone below. He landed and ducked behind cover, drawing his pistol.

He raised his head out. The creature was walking towards him, blaster rifle still in hand as its mutilated head looked left and right for him. Glancing down at the light pistol in his hand, he knew it would take an incredibly lucky shot to do any significant damage to the creature. He could not see his larger weapon and unless he managed to stumble over it, it was lost to him for now. Slowly he reached for his belt, feeling for an alternate weapon. Drawing his sword in his right hand, his left pulled a grenade from the other side. He took a deep breath, and then flicked the grenade towards the creature. He braced himself as the seismic weapon exploded, feeling the shock himself of the blast even outside its epicentre, but as the creature gave a peculiar screeching noise the clone leapt out from cover, sword thrusting forward and slicing across the crystals before finding a patch of human flesh and biting in. The creature lashed out with its rifle and Senth dodged, angling his body away and slicing the sword down the creatures left arm, finding another patch of clear skin and biting in deeply with the sword. The creature gave another screech and dropped the rifle as its an involuntary spasm caused its fingers to open.

Senth dodged again as its right hand swung towards him, a blade emerging from the vambrace and scraping along the clones armoured side. Senth backed off, watching the creatures hands for more surprises as it made towards him, closing the gap quickly with a burning intensity. Senth kept his sword held loosely, looking for another gap, and then thrust the weapon forward. This time the creature was ready, and moved incredibly quickly, blocking the strike with an out flung arm and jarring the clones grip and sending the sword skittering away across the ground. Another blow from its weakened but still strong left arm aimed at Senth's helmeted head. Senth instinctively reflected the strike, and aimed a punch at his opponents own head, which was like hitting a rock. He backed off, adopting a stance as the creature moved towards him.

Senth dodged the next attack again, and spun his body round kicking at the creatures side as it flashed past him. He heard a grunt of expelled air from the creature and a loud noise as some of the crystals snapped under the strike, but a second later the creature reacted and spun around, still driving at him. Senth backed off once more. He knew the thing was as fast as him, if not as well trained in martial arts, and was a lot stronger. Despite his training he would be immensely lucky to beat the thing one on one. He needed a new plan. He watched the creature, until it dove at him, and then quickly moved aside, a hand jabbing at its side and grabbing at its belt. The creature swung at him, a fist smashing at the clones armoured head knocking him back and Senth fell, hitting the ground hard and rolling.

As the clone looked up wearily at the creature, it gave a roar of triumph and moved forward. Then it stopped as a growing beeping noise sounded over its own voice, and it looked down at the devices hanging from its belt. Senth covered his head with his arms as the explosion rocked the area.
Slowly he got to his feet groggily. The creature was sprawled on its back, its armoured skin smoking at much of its crystal skin was burned away. The clone shook his head in amazement as the creatures arms and legs twitched, trying to gather itself enough to rise. His hand reached down and he gripped his last weapon, the thin tube like device. He flicked the switch and the almost invisible blade emerged. As the creature continued to struggle the clone leaned over it, pinning his knee against its chest. With a deep breath he raised a hand, and then as the creature looked furiously at him he drove the thing blade down into one eye socked, feeling it drive into tissue beyond and the thing screeched again in agony. Slowly the clone pushed deeper, the hilt nearly disappearing into the head as he twisted it back and forth. The creature gave a final twitch, and then was still. Senth rose and drew the blaster pistol from the creatures holster. Looking down at the head he emptied the entire charge slowly into it at point blank range, ripping into the armoured flesh and penetrating its skull. Finally he stood and took a deep breath. Then with a last glance at the corpse, he set off to find his discarded weapons.

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae

Star Wars - The Voyage Home

The Wilds
Dandoran
Doran System

He was lost, and fed up. He looked around that the blank surrounding area. This entire thing had gone to hell over the last few days since he had left the chaos at Tipool. At the time joining the Tenixir had seemed like a good idea, partly because he believed in the balance between them and the Severians, and partly because after a long year back in his House Summit he had needed a break and most of his Clan had joined the other side. Now the matter had been complicated by the appearance of this third faction, and it seemed like a good idea to get back to Orian and ensure everything back home was stable. He still had memories of the time they had returned with the remnants of the Sadow fleet after that debacle at Antei to discover the system had been lost.

The problem is he had no idea where he was. He had not seen a single person for hours. His own ship was docked around one of the Tenixir dreadnaughts and the shuttle he had hitched a lift on was long gone. He continued to walk in his heavy armour with the mid day sun beating down on him, wishing he had worn his lighter robes or at least opted for the comfort body glove upgrade.

After a while he stopped. Ahead he could see smoke and some buildings. He sped up his pace and set off towards them, pulling his saber hilt from his belt but not igniting it. As he drew closer he could see bodies and figures in armour walking amongst them while the buildings continued to burn. It appeared to be some sort of farmstead. With no cover he decided to approach openly and see what he found. The troopers were wearing Severian armour and appeared to be searching for loot. He felt a brief surge of annoyance.

Two of them reacted when he came into view, walking confidently towards them, and approached him warily, rifles held ready. Malisane sensed there were three more of them against the buildings.
“Who the hell are you?” one of them asked.
“I could ask you the same question,” the Sith replied, “only I know looters when I see them. And deserters.”
“Yeah?” one of them asked, “so what? This has all gone to hell, pirates and mutants now, so we don't care.”
“Obviously.”
Another trooper approached, this one wearing a corporals insignia. “He asked you who you were?” he said menacingly, “you look like a mercenary to me. What do you want?”
“I came here from the Brotherhood,” Malisane replied, “and I am going back there. I just came to see what you brave boys were up to. I have a particular dislike of looting, deserter scum. I have caught many on my own world. They died slowly and unpleasantly. This is not my world however. So I will leave you to your amusements.”
“Oh you will, will you?” the corporal asked looking the Sith up and down, “well as you say this is not your world and you are alone. That is some expensive armour and gear you have there. Worth more if we don't have to peel your body out of it. So how about you leave it for us and walk away?”
The other troopers raised their weapons, and waited.

“I would rather not,” Malisane replied, “and I would advise you to return to your business.”
The corporal shrugged. “The hard way then,” and he fired.
Malisane moved quickly, igniting his saber and deflecting the shot, and then as the bolt hit a trooper he continued the movement hacking his saber through the body of a second enemy, slicing through flesh and bone. He felt a blaster bold ping harmlessly off his chest plate and made a gesture, hitting the ground with the force causing an eruption and the three remaining enemies to stagger back. The Warlord took advantage of the distraction and surged forward, effortlessly hacking down two other enemies as they tried to react. Finally he faced the corporal he held his rifle nervously.
“Please,” the man said, “we did not know what you were.”
Malisane made a gesture and the corporals weapon was dragged from his grip to land in the warlord's free hand, and was casually tossed away. “I gave you a chance,” he replied, “it was an extremely generous one considering what you are.” He lowered his saber and stretched out his free hand. The corporal gasped as his feet left the ground, as an invisible hand gripped him. Malisane stepped forward as the struggling man was lifted higher into the air, and then backwards towards the flames behind him.
“No!” the man gasped, as he flailed his arms and legs, feeling the heat.
“Die,” Malisane replied and hurled the man into the centre of the fire, hearing the screams of pain a second later as the corporal was engulfed and cooked in his armour. Finally as only the sound of burning remained, Malisane turned and began to explore. He was not interested in the surroundings, he had enough supplies with him, but was satisfied a few minutes later when he found some barc speeders, presumably belonging to the Severian deserters. Checking they were still in good working order, he picked one and set off across the empty terrain.

He studied the display on the panel in front of him. If the data was right he was a hundred miles from a small supply depot, which hopefully ought to contain at least one space worthy ship. He bend down over the bike and accelerated. With luck he would be off Dandoran and back on his own ship within a couple of hours. Then he could be free of this unravelling, three way insanity and be back on Aeotheran a few days later. Presumably the rest of his House and Clan would drift in a few days later if they had any common sense.
He let the miles pass calmly, occasionally glancing at the display to ensure he was on the correct route. He was. Eventually more buildings came in sight and he slowed the bike down, surveying the target destination. There were no signs of life but he was feeling cautious. The depot was a large squat building, surrounded by a chain link fence. A big loading door was open at one side of the building, and hopefully there was a ship inside he could take. He passed through the open gate and stopped the speeder.

He walked towards the building, feeling a sense of deja vu, and pulled his scattergun from where it was clipped to the back of his armour. He continued towards the open door. Inside he could see a beaten up looking Ghtroc freighter, a garbage scow compared with his own upgraded Lancer but it was space and hyperspace capable. It would do if it functioned. Feeling more confident he walked forward towards it. In a matter of minutes he would be airborne. He passed through the doors, and then stopped, sensing something strange around him. He gripped the scattergun and looked around, and then stepped back as several figures appeared from behind crates. His eyes narrowed. They were strange robed figures, with hooded cloaks, and like the mutilated Severian troopers he had seen several days earlier, they had the same crystals emerging from beneath their skin, though less dense. They carried saber hilts though and they were watching him with the same intensity. He felt a pressure on his mind and shook it away. One of them suddenly moved and he pulled the trigger of his scattergun, the expanding pellets striking one of the creatures in the chest and sending it staggering back. Dropping the scattergun he drew his saber igniting it.

As their companion fell, another of the abominations raised a hand and force lightning surged towards him. He caught it with his saber, sending it arching up and down the blade, and he struggled against it, and then pushed it back as he leapt forward. The abomination met his saber with it's own, the blue hilt meeting the Sith's white one, and as Malisane felt another moving towards him for a strike he used all his strength to batter against his opponent. The creature was talented and quick but Malisane was bigger and stronger and a few seconds later he saw a gap in the defence and thrust forward, slicing deep into a clear patch of skin in the things chest, then slicing his blade up and out of its body.

As it felt a second blast of lightning hit him, this time too quick to block and he felt a surge of pain as it arched over his armour, the energy penetrating his defences and he grit his teeth. He forced himself to turn towards it, and advance and then through his pain he focused on the enemy and its connection to the force, nullifying it. As the lightning faded he struck out himself, smashing the creature from its feet with a solid invisible blow. He turned in time to meet a saber aimed at his body, blocking it. The first enemy he had shot was attacking him now, its chest ripped open and bleeding from the pellets that had hit it but it seemed to ignore the damage. Perhaps it lacked the intelligence to realise it was dead. Their sabers met and Malisane focused on trying to batter its weapon aside, as behind him he heard movement as the opponent he had knocked down was beginning to rise.

The Sith backed off slightly, as he heard move movement. The creature he was fighting sensed his change in stance and pressed him as another bolt of lightning hit him jarring his body, and the enemy in front thrust at his body, its blue saber slicing along his beskar armour with a burst of sparks, cutting into it but not penetrating. Malisane, sensing that he was in trouble, hit the button on his wrist and he felt a surge as his jetpack burst into life, sending him high amongst the crates and narrowly missing another bolt of lightning. As he landed on the top of a stack of crates he deactivated his saber and tensed himself, raising his weapon. From below the two creatures were joined by another pair from the doorway, and the four looked up at him coldly. Then he sighed as he heard the whine of speeder engines outside. Two he could probably handle, four was possible though he would likely be leaving injured and needing assistance once he got back to the Tenixir forces. With more arriving the best he could do would be to die with some dignity, even if it was alone in this hellhole.

He took a deep breath, and then frowned. The crystal creatures below suddenly reacted strangely, seemingly loosing interest in him. As he watched wearily they flickered out of sight, and his gaze swept over to the doorway. Then he powered up the jetpack again gaining height as several grenades bounced through the doorway. He managed to avoid the explosion that sent a tower of crates toppling down, and gripped his saber as several armoured figures burst through the doorway firing. Malisane looked on grimly as he recognised the heavy crystallised form of the restoration troopers. Immediately the crystal ascendants appeared surrounding them, attacking with lightning and saber strikes, as the troopers turned to meet them, attacking back with brutal attacks. Malisane resisted the urge to join in the melee as he watched in fascination. The forms of the combatants below were similar but the styles different. How this madness had taken hold of both the Severians and this new faction was a mystery but not one he cared about. He watched for a few more seconds as the mutants battled for supremacy. And then slowly drew his grenade launcher from his back.

The explosion threw the mutant enemies back as the grenade landed amongst them. As the smoke cleared the restoration troopers appeared to be trying to rise, their crystaline skin burned but not seriously damaged, through the lighter armoured ascendants seemed to have taken more damage and were still. Malisane paused a few seconds, then fired another grenade, and a second explosion rocked the large room this time sending several stacks of crates crashing down. The restoration troopers were more still now, but twitching, and the Sith sensed even a second blast would not hold them for long. With a glance at them he fired his jetpack again, soaring briefly up, and then down towards the closed ramp to the freighter. Wrenching the manual release he waited while it quickly lowered, and then as he saw the troopers began to rise he sprinted inside, hitting the button to close it. A second before it closed he saw more troopers entering the depot.

He felt the ship began to rock as blaster fire hit it. He reached the cockpit and quickly sat in the chair. He was not a great pilot but knew enough to get the ship moving, and as he fired up the engines he felt it surge forward, narrowly clearing the door and scattering restoration troopers in its wake. As the battered freighter burst into the open he saw more speeders heading towards him, each carrying a mutilated trooper, and each were disembarking to fire at the freighter. Malisane pulled the controls back and the ship gained height, still shaking as more blaster fire from below hit its hull. Then Malisane breathed a sigh of relief as the ship climbed out of range. A few seconds later it cleared the atmosphere.

Malisane studied the view in front of him as the darkness of space became visible. Around him battle raged. The heavier Severian ships met the lighter Tenixir ones, and neither appeared to have an advantage. Wherever the dreadnaught he had left his ship at he had no idea. Maybe it was engaged, maybe it was destroyed. He sighed. In all his years in the Brotherhood he had never run from a fight, but this was not his fight or even his Clan's, and the battered Ghtroc was barely able to get him away let alone engage. With a final look at the carnage around him he engaged the hyperdrive and he felt the ship respond. He was going home.

Full Frontal Assault.

Headquarters of the 1st Armoured Regiment
Twenty Miles South of the Temple of Fire
Sepros

The temporary headquarters was an impressive building, well equipped and able to be dropped, assembled, and if necessary dissembled with an efficiency that was practised time and time again on drops on multiple worlds and in multiple environments. This time it was the Orian Warhosts home and capital planet, not some foreign system light years away. This was no drill however. What satellite imagery they had that the assaulting forces over the planet had no destroyed indicated that the enemy had landed and was advancing through the dense jungle at the best possible speed. With the other regiments holding the other side of the planet or other locations in the system the 1st Armoured was all that stood between them and the heart of the clan. In his quarters Colonel Sarto 'Eloth' Kousir stood over the display watching the lights flicker on and off as the estimated pace of the enemy made its way inevitably closer. Based on the assessment of the opposing force, his four battalions would have a hard job holding them for the required time until the alleged reinforcements from Taldryan would arrive, if there was any truth in that.

He turned as the door slid open and his adjutant entered and snapped a salute. Colonel sir, you have a visitor.”
“Who?” Eloth demanded.
“A colonel from intelligence sir.”
The Chiss face darkened. What did intel want now? So far they had not exactly covered themselves with glory, this invasion having slipped right past them. “Show him in Lieutenant.”
He was surprised when a plain looking young man appeared, not dressed as an officer but wearing a suit of plain black arc trooper armour and carrying his helmet under one arm. He also had a grenade launcher strapped to his back and a sword hanging from his belt. “Who are you?”
The man gave a quick salute. “I am Colonel Senth, of Warhost Intelligence.”
Eloth studied him. “I have heard of you. The clone. You were the one doing those propaganda broadcasts last year during that business at Arx.”
The clone officer did not react to the slight slur. “Indeed.”
“So what are you doing in my headquarters Colonel. Can I assume you have good news for us on our reinforcements.”
“Not so far,” Senth replied, “though we are assured they are en route. In the time being I have come to make a formal request for assistance.”
The Chiss colonel wrinkled his brow. He had an invading army hours away and they had a request? “What request exactly?”
“You have a special missions company attached to your 3rd Battalion Colonel. I am here to requisition it.”
“For what purpose?”
“That is classified Colonel.” the clone replied.
“Then the answer is no, Colonel.” Eloth replied. “You are no doubt aware of my situation. I am not releasing one single trooper without a good reason.”
Senth met his gaze. “I have the authority to request assistance from any serving officer Colonel.”
Eloth shrugged. “The important phrase in that sentence is 'request'. If you have a problem you can take it up with General Cargas. I will answer later assuming we survive the next few days.”
The clone studied him. “Very well. Is this room secure.”
“As secure as anywhere,” the Chiss replied.
“Very well.”

Senth stood next Eloth by the display map. He pointed to their current position, and then his finger trailed down. “According to our latest intelligence there are four regiments of enemy forces approaching from this direction, three infantry and one armoured. Their estimated arrival is in five hours at their current pace, and they have ample air support. Our current assessment is your regiment can hold them for a maximum of eight hours without your own air support.”
Colonel Eloth nodded somberly. “That is my assessment as well.”
“We have calculated their route, as no doubt have you,” the clone continued, “their is no practicable landing site near here, so they will have to traverse along this path, and pass through this ravine ten miles to the south at this point.”
“So what is your plan?” the Chiss asked.
“With your company I can plant explosives along the ravine shelf, and bring it down. If we time it right we may be able to do it when they are passing through, or at least block them entering it. We estimate if we can bring enough of the shelf down it will block it sufficiently to delay them for some considerable time, possibly enough for reinforcements to support your position.”

Colonel Eloth studied the map thoughtfully. “It is a serious risk Colonel,” he replied, “it is possible their scouts are already in the area. If they are then you could be leading my company into an ambush.”
“I am aware of that,” Senth admitted, “but if we do not proceed Idoubt you will be able to hold them anywhere long enough for to be reinforced, and the temple will fall by tomorrow.”
Eloth looked back at the map, then at the clone officer again. “Who are you exactly Colonel? I have heard stories about the clone in intel, especially after that assault on Inos 13. You apparently have no official command status, and your rank exists only on the rosters. I am not trusting you with my girls and boys until I know more about you.”
Senth nodded. “Very well. My official designation is Delta 19, and I was one thirty two advanced commandos created and trained by Admiral Simonetti under the Dlarit Special Operations Group. I was given a rank in the Warhost following its creation but informally I serve the Overlord in whatever capacity he sees fit.”
The Chiss raised an eyebrow. “A DAC? I thought you boys were all dead or insane.”
“As far as I know I am the last, yes.”
“Very well,” Eloth replied, “I was D:SOG. Before that I fought on Antei as a lieutenant in Nineteen, ironically against the same people we're hoping are coming to support us now.”
Senth shrugged. “I do not understand politics but we are assured they are on our side this time.”
“We can hope,” Eloth replied. “I will order Captain Enis to prepare her company and meet you in the compound in ten minutes. Good luck Colonel.”

The transports moved quickly over the forest, with bikes escorting them either side and in the front. Senth sat in the lead one with Captain Enis. She had turned out to be a grizzed veteran, though brought into the Warhost as a mercenary rather than having come from the former Dlarit military like himself and Eloth. She seemed content to trust the intelligence officer though and appeared to prefer action instead of waiting around. Senth was looking at his datapad, the map indicating their present position and the target location. The captain was talking to the transport's pilot on her communicator. Then she raised her head. “ETA ten minutes Colonel.”
He nodded. “We will need to split into two groups,” he replied, “and take either side of the ravine.”
“We have the target locations sir,” she replied calmly, “our engineers know what they're doing.”
They waited until the transport came to a stop, landing smoothly on the ravine floor and the hatches at the side lowered down, as the company disembarked and quickly formed up, while scouts made their way quickly to survey the surrounding area on their bikes. As Senth jumped down to join her, Captain Enis began to quickly give orders. “1st Platoon will secure this location. Second Platoon take the east side of the ravine, 3rd platoon the west. We do not know the current location of the enemy so keep them peeled and be careful.”

As the 1st Platoon moved out around the transports and made a defensive position, Senth followed the 2nd up the ravine wall as they expertly climbed up the steep surface, planting pins in the rock securing the ropes making it easier for those following. Senth was pleased with their effficency and progress, though to the clone commando this was easy going. He was content to follow though as the lieutenant and sergeant lead them to the top. The six demolitions specialists with them made slightly slower progress but they too were fit and trained and did well. Quicker than he expected the platoon reached the top. Senth could make out 3rd Platoon had done likewise and were now moving dispersing swiftly along the opposite shelf. The 2nd Platoons Sergeant, a gruff older NCO was barking orders at his troopers who were moving quickly south in fire teams, each escorting a specialist who remained in the middle. Sharpshooters moved out to pick defensive locations and screen the dense forest for signs of enemy forces.

Senth watched them alongside the lieutenant and the senior NCO as each specialist took drilling lasers from their backpacks and began to work on the rock below them. He felt a bit redundant being here, the troopers clearly knew their business and worked well as a unit. To even be considered for one of the special missions companies the Warhost or the House forces had you had to be the best in your speciality and have a high level of ability in others. They were proud men, women and others who had a healthy respect for each other and also a rivalry to outperform.
He turned and looked into the dense jungle. The scouts had reported nothing, and somewhere beyond them the bikers were out screening them. It was entirely possible the enemy's own scouts had not reached this location yet, however it was also possible they had.
“Any news sergeant?” the young lieutenant asked.
“Aye sir,” the NCO replied, “they're making good progress but the rock is denser than they anticipated. Its taking some cutting.”
“They must reach the correct depth,” Senth added, “we don't want to just blow up this area we need to bring the sides down.”
“They know that sir,” the sergeant replied calmly.
Senth continued to watch, occasionally looking over across the ravine where the 3rd Platoon were also working. He had confidence in the troops he had brought, but this was still a risk. His estimation of the enemy force had not been over estimated. Without a delay they would overrun the 1st Armoured and take the heart of the Clan before the rest of the Warhost and their Taldryan allies could do anything to help. This had to succeed.

The sergeant suddenly put his hand to his helmet, adjusting the frequency, and listened. “Sirs, the scouts have detected enemy in the jungle to the east, moving this way.”
The lieutenant looked quickly at the NCO. “How many and how far.”
“They can't tell sir with the visibility out there,” the sergeant replied, “they don't want to get too close and alert them. Maybe about a company size and a few minutes away. A second force is moving on the west side.”
“They must just be scouts,” Senth replied, “they could not possibly have brought a large force up here in this time.”
He heard a voice in your communicator. “This is Captain Enis, have you heard the report?”
“We have,” Senth confirmed, “we have to defend this position. If we withdraw this entire thing becomes redundant.”
“Good luck then. We will make sure you have safe exit when you need it.”
The sergeant glanced at the lieutenant then began to speak to the platoon. “Alright everyone, enemies coming in from the jungle. Assigned troopers continue to shield the engineers, the rest of you take defensive positions.”
As the troopers began to move the lieutenant glanced at Senth. “You may want to retire to a safer location sir.”
Senth looked at him, and then reached up and then reached back and pulled his Relby V-10 from his back, checking it was loaded and then gripped it. “I will be fine lieutenant, we need every one we have.” He headed for the trees.

Senth crouched on a tree branch high above the jungle floor. He trusted the platoon to perform in the coordinated way they were trained for and had no wish to interfere. He would merely add support where needed. He gripped his weapon and let his gaze drift over the floor below, watching as the blips of moving objects. He could see the 2nd Platoon were taking cover behind whatever they could find, with the sharpshooters further out and some in higher places like the tree he perched on. The specialists would be hard at work laser drilling down to the charge depth he had agreed with them, and some of the toughest troopers crouched round them, ready to defend despite their lack of cover. The clone admired their determination. His gaze drifted to the east where the moving blips of the enemy could be seen, some densely packed but around them more spread out scouts. They were approaching firing range. Did they know the Sadow troops were here, or were they just securing the area before their army moved through? It was impossible to say. Somewhere to the west the other platoon would be facing the same quandary.

He listened patiently to the quiet orders on the scrambled channel from the lieutenant, as he watched the enemy draw closer. They at a louder order the Sadows began to fire into the trees, from behind their cover or from their perch. The enemy forces scattered for their own cover, returning fire, and below the air scorched with the sound of blasters and shouts. Senth waited, looking down at the dense floor through the trees. Then he saw a shot from ahead, a rocket flaming down from the trees to explode amongst the defenders. Senth quickly followed the line and saw an enemy trooper crouched in a tree a fifty metres ahead. The trooper was preparing for another shot and Senth brought his rifle around and targeted smoothly from years of practice, and sent a shot from the launchers blaster. The rocket trooper did not even see the shot coming, and as he fell the rocket scorched upwards to explode amongst the trees. Senth nodded in satisfaction then sought out another target.

From below he heard the sound of an engine and followed the sound. From the trees to the south a Gian speeder left the trees, manoeuvring round to fire on the defenders on the ridge. Senth watched it moving forward, the pilot and gunner controlling the vehicle and weapons in practised efficiency. Behind them an officer sat watching the display. Senth touched a control on his back and his jetpack ignited, carrying him smoothly through the trees. He fumbled for a high explosive round into the grenade launcher and as he soared closer to the speeder he fired a round in it's path. As the explosion burst from the ground in front of it the speeder was knocked up and rolled, the officer jumping clear as it hit the ground upside down. With a nod of satisfaction the clone fired again, hitting the speeders underbelly and the vehicle exploded. Senth landed on another tree branch, and as the officer got to his or her feet Senth sighted his blaster and fired, pitching them to the ground.

The Sadow defenders were making headway now, the attackers numbers winnowing and it did seem they had only been an exploratory force. Then he saw movement to the North, and a small group of enemy troopers emerged, surrounding a figure in a black robe. The apparent force user stood behind a rock as his defenders shot at anyone coming near, as the enemy used seemed to concentrate. Senth had seen this enough in his fellow Sadowans to recognise the meditation, and below the attackers began to move forward with more purpose, timing their shots better at the defenders, including those remaining guards of the specialists. Senth admitted an uncharacteristic curse and fired his jetpack once more. He sped across the open area towards the little enemy group until he was nearly overhead . He fired a grenade which exploded near the group, but its energy was dissipated by a sudden barrier. Senth considered a second shot to test the force user, but changed his mind. Reaching to his belt he produced a sonic grenade, and then tossed it at the force user and their defenders.

As the deafening and disorientating blast rocked the four troopers, Senth landed amongst them, the Sith sword he had borrowed from the Dakhan Quaestor in his hand. This was not his preferred method of confrontation but he could manage when necessary. As the disorientated troopers struggled to recover the sword slashed amongst them, hacking down one, and then two in quick succession. As a third prepared to fire directly at the clone with his rifle, a lucky or helpful shot from nearby hit him in the back. Senth ignored him and as the fourth aimed at him he thrust, knocking the weapon aside and driving the sword into the chest of the trooper, the alchemically sharpened blade passing through the armour and finding the heart. Then Senth felt a surge of pain and disorientation as flashes of lightning hit him, arcing around his armour. By training alone he leapt aside, leaving its path and landing, gripping his saber. He saw the force user looking at him, her face angry beneath her hood as she pointed her left hand at him, the right gripping a red saber.

“You will die!” she shouted, as she unleashed another blast. Senth fired the jetpack and soared above the lightning, landing directly in front of her, thrusting his sword at her. She was quick, bringing her saber around to knock it aside, and then with steely determination in her blue eyes she slashed at him. Senth moved back, angling his body away from her, blocking the strike. She had been startlingly quick, and it was all he could do to block. He continued to back off dodging or parrying her strikes as she advanced on him. Around him her forces continued to fight, but were loosing ground again against the Sadow forces with the meditation gone. Senth was oblivious to this, focusing on the force user. He was incredibly proficient with a sword, he had practised for years and against most non force users he was lethal. He had also sparred against some of the best saberists in the Clan, and could usually hold his own and had learnt each time, sometimes after a very painful lesson. His opponent however had the force and that advantage was testing him, her movements quick and her defences almost seeming to anticipate his attacks before he had even made them. Additionally his armour was slowly him despite years of working in it.

Inevitably one of her strikes hit home, slicing into the left of his armour and searing along his side. He gritted his teeth as he saw a flash of triumph in her blue eyes. With a two handed blow she hacked at him and he desperately parried, and he felt his hand shake as the lightsaber and the Sith sword met. She snarled and brought her saber back for another blow, and he hacked at her. Then he realised his mistake. She twisted her grip saber flicked down scoring along his right arm, cutting into the flesh and his fingers opened in spasm dropping the Sith sword. He dropped, reaching for it with his left and then looked up at her, as she stood over him in triumph. She raised her blade for the fatal blow, and quickly Senth's left hand moved instinctively, not for the Sith sword but for the little cylinder on his belt. Thrusting his arm up he pressed the little button and the almost invisible blade burst forth, and he drove it up and into her chest, putting all his remaining strength into that one strike. She gasped in pain and her face blanched, before she dropped her own raised weapon and collapsed backwards, landing on the forest floor.

Senth slowly pushed himself up with his one good arm and looked around. The few remaining attackers were backing off into the tree cover as the Warhost forces fired at them. Then he heard a voice over his communicator. “This is Captain Enis. All charges are planted. Withdraw to my location in good order.” Senth reached down and retreived his sword from near the force users corpse, and slid it into his belt. Then drawing his blaster pistol in his left hand he backed off towards the edge of the ridge, as Warhost troopers formed around him. As the began to scramble back down, he fired a burst from his backpack and allowed himself to travel down smoothly. As he landed Captain Enis approached him, her eyes passing over his torn side and arm. “Looks like you've been in the wars Colonel. Get in a transport and I'll have a medic look at you.”
“Thank you Captain.”
A brief smile touched her lips. “Well done with that force user, the sergeant of the 2nd says they are lucky you were along. Now hurry the enemy column is getting nearer. We're bugging out.”

Senth watched from a safe position on a rocky hilltop. His arm and side were bandaged and he was wearing a simple flight suit he had found in the transport, but he had refused to return to the 1st Armoured Regiments's HQ with most of the company, and now waited with Captain Enis and a small group of troopers and specialists. He watched the ravine through borrowed quadnoculars as the first of the column entered it, heavy APCs moved forward, accompanied by AT-STs whose turrets rotated back and forth along the ravines top, and behind them he could make out 2-M hover tanks and more APCs. The column was an impressive sight, four regiments of death moving to knock aside Colonel Eloth's defenders and take and hold the heart of Sepros and Orian. Or so they thought. Senth and the captain watched as the column rumbled across the ravine floor, and above they could make out bikers and troops on the top guarding them where Senth and the 2nd and 3rd Platoons had been earlier.
Captain Enis was watching as the column reached the half way mark, and began to climb to the easier terrain beyond. “Now Colonel?”
Senth nodded. “Now.”
She looked at her specialists. “Light them up.”

The scouts on top of the ravine walls heard it first, as the ground shook beneath them as the line of high explosive charges buried in either side detonated, knocking them from their feet. Then a tremendous tearing noise of rock sounded in the ravine, as cracks began to appear in the sides. The enemy forces in the ravine looked up in horror as small rocks began to roll down towards them, and then larger ones as the walls continued to crack. Above as the scouts ran for safety the ground beneath them split, falling off from the wall and sending them tumbling down with it. The APCs and walkers tried to stop and reverse as larger rocks and then entire pieces of the wall hit them, but the ravine was a bottleneck as pieces of rock larger than the vehicles themselves crashed down into the ravine, causing explosions as the hit and crushed the walkers squashing them down, or hit the APCs driving them to the floor to be buried under immense chunks of the scenery. As the ravine wall continued to collapse section by section, the vehicles closer to the rear of the ravine began to back off quickly for safety, before snarling up with the confused ones behind still moving forward. A few of the unlucky ones were hit by boulders that were thrown further than most of the collapse.

Senth watched in surprise alongside the Captain, who was cheering with her troopers. When he had planned this he had not expected it to be so devastating. The noise was still deafening as more of the ravine walls collapsed, shook down by the vibrations of the earlier devastation. Finally there was a deathly silence, and around him the troopers were silent. The sound of a few smaller rocks falling was the only sound, as an immense dust cloud rose over the ravine. All that could be seen were building sized rocks filling the now wider crevice, and the odd fire of partially buried vehicles. In the distance he could still hear the remainder of the column trying to reverse and turn in the narrow path leading to it.
“Well done Colonel,” Captain Enis commented, “it will take them a day to clear that at best. They might get some smaller speeders over it but nothing big. With luck when our reinforcements arrive them might catch them there still.”
If they were coming, Senth thought to himself. He would not know what was going on with the rest of the battle for Orian until he got back to the HQ, or even then. Still he had done what they had set out to do.
Captain Enis was climbing onto a bike. “Behind me Colonel you're not riding anywhere with that arm. When we get back to HQ I'll stand you a drink.”
He turned and nodded. “I do not drink but I appreciate the assistance. Your company performed admirably, no one could of asked for more.” He climbed behind her as the bikes began the journey back to the 1st Armoured Regiment's Headquarters and the rest of the war.

Enjoying The Festivities

An Unpleasant Settlement
Tatooine
The Outer Rim

CaptainCerys Dagen sipped her cold drink and listened to the noise around her. After several days cooped up on the Lancer Patrol Craft she served as pilot of it was good to feel the fresh air on her face, even if it came with a dose of sand. The Miraluka watched the glowing figures of citizens and visitors passing her through her force sight. She could hear her companion making disapproving noises from nearby over the sounds of conversation and engines nearby.
“He is late,” Malisane commented beneath his hood.
“Yes so it seems Warlord,” she replied, not having much else to say.
“I will be pleased when we can return to Aeotheran,” he said coldly, “for a planet that apparently features so prominently in Galactic history, it is a cess pit. I thought Tarthos was unpleasant until I came here.”
Cerys shrugged. “I did suggest an alternate site but our contact refused.” She was about to add more when she felt a vibration at her side and reached down, taking her datapad from her belt. Her figures touched the screen and she concentrated as she read the message. She sighed. “I am afraid I have bad news sir,” she told him, “our contact has been delayed. He anticipates he will be here tomorrow.”
“Unacceptable,” Malisane replied gruffly, “well I am not waiting here. We will return to the Deathshead and wait until he arrives.”
She turned to him. “I have bad news on that as well sir.”
“What?” he asked.
“Due to the championship the spaceport is currently sealed off sir,” she explained, “apparently there was interference with the racing in the past. This is a new rule.”
Malisane looked at her. “They can not be serious. How long does it last?”
She tapped her datapad a few times, and then her fingers brushed against the screen. “It is due to finish in about five hours sir.”
Malisane looked around them in distaste. “So we can either watch five hours of idiots on ludicrously unsafe crafts crashing and burning with inane commentary while the crowd cheer or go “oooooo”, or we can go and find somewhere half decent for a drink until the spaceport opens.”
“Second one sir?”
“Yes.” He paused. “Move out now and be quick about it.”
“Sir?” she asked, slightly offended by his tone.
“Not you,” he looked down as a black astromech droid emerged from under a nearby table, its head rotating left and right, and it made a deep disapproving tone.
“Lead the way Zero,” Malisane ordered.

As it turned out the second option was not as easy as it sounded. The Championship was a popular event, and it had drawn a large crowd and every sort of stall and game had been brought to make money from them. The assassin droid was pushing its way through the packed crowd, making loud noise every time they got too close. Both Malisane and Cerys kept their possessions close to them as they were jostled occasionally, both aware this was a haven for pickpockets. Malisane watched and Cerys sensed the attractions around them, as a wall of noise and smells hit them of games, food and people. Malisane grew impatient and pushed past the droid, heading for a smallish clearing. Then he heard a voice “Hey you in the hood, come over here.”
Malisane's had went down to a concealed pocket in the back of his robes, where his lightsaber was hidden. His gaze turned curiously as he prepared for action. Then he saw a brightly dressed man waving at him.
“Yeah you, come and try your luck, only five credits a go.”
Malisane saw several people surrounding the man looking at him, and after a seconds hesitation walked over.

The man was stood in front of a small table, on which were three upturned cups. He was beaming at the Warlord. “Sir, for just five credits you get a chance to win fifty shiny ones. All you have to do is watch and then guess which cup the balls is under.” He was holding a small golden ball in one hand.
“Very well,” Malisane replied, producing a credit note from a stash he kept for emergencies when he did not want a digital trail.
The man put the note on the table in front of him. “Okay sir, her we go. I put this ball under the middle cup, do you see it there sir?”
“Obviously,” Malisane replied, and heard a slight chuckle from those surrounding him.
“Good sir, you're a natural, now watch closely sir as I cover the ball, and then try and follow it. If your eyes are keen you win the fifty credits.”
The man's hands now began to move quickly, moving the three cups around expertly in an apparently random pattern, and Malisane's blue eyes watched them quietly as others leaned in for a closer look.
Finally the man stopped and stepped back. “Alright sir, I hope you were watching hard. So tell me, where is the ball?”
Malisane looked down for a few seconds, and then his gaze passed up the man's brightly coloured shirt to look him deeply in the eyes. “Your left hand,” he replied in a quiet tone.
The man's face did not flicker. “I beg your pardon sir?”
“The ball,” Malisane said slowly and slightly louder, “is in your left hand.” There was now a murmuring from the crowd, including previous unlucky players, and it was becoming darker.
The man's face remained passive, but now his eyes showed a hint of fear. “I think you are mistaken sir,” he replied, “I'll show you.” His hand moved quickly for the centre cup, and then stopped as Malisane's gaze descended to it. His arm began to shake and the man now showed signs of discomfort, as his arm slowly raised up, and his knuckles turned white as he tried to keep his fist clenched. Finally as sweat broke out on his face his fingers opened to show the ball.
As Malisane stepped back, around him the crowd suddenly stepped forward as one towards the man, who now brought his right hand up and grabbed his cash box. As the crowd continued to move he turned and bolted off into the people behind him.

Malisane watched the pursuit with interest. “Better than pod racing.”
“That was probably unnecessary sir,” Cerys replied.
“I can not stand cheats,” he told her.
She thought for a few seconds. “But if his game had been honest you would have been cheating,” she reasoned, “you're a force user.”
“I could sense his deception before I agreed to play,” he replied, “had I not I would not have bothered.”
“Very well.” she replied.
Malisane looked down. “Zero, find us a cantina. Lead the way.”
They walked a bit further, until Cerys stopped. “One moment Warlord.”
Malisane looked around suspiciously, “What?”
“That knife throwing game.”
“What about it.”
“I wish to take part,” she replied.
Malisane shrugged. “As you wish. I will find a table.”

He continued walking until he found a cantina that was not too busy. He walked inside, Zero following him. He looked around. It was obvious why it was half empty. The atmosphere was dark and oppressing, the patrons skulked over their drinks, casting the odd suspicious look at the door whenever anyone entered before looking back down, and the furniture was old and basic with little comfort. Malisane nodded to himself. This would do nicely. As he approached a bar a Toydarian fluttered over, and hovered in front of the Sith.
“Welcome custome. I am Hogi, you want table and drink?”
“Of course,” Malisane replied, “do you have a problem with the droid?”
The Toydarian looked down at the assassin astromech droid, and then back at Malisane. “Of course not, everybody welcome here, so long as the little fellow buys his round. Hahaha!”
Ignoring the derisive tone from the droid, Malisane nodded. “Good, then I will have a table and bring me something strong.”
“Good!” the owner replied as he flew over to an empty table in one corner, “you come at good time, this is happy hour in Hogi's Bar!”
Malisane looked around once more at the dark cantina with its quiet skulking half sozzled customers. “So I see.”
“One moment and I bring you best drink you have for years.” Hogi flew off towards the bar and Malisane was seated, being careful to face the door and most of the bar.

After a few moments a man approached the table and leaned over the Sith. “Hey do you want..”
“No,” Malisane replied.
“You don't know what I was about to ask,” the man protesest
“The answer is the same.”
“Hey you,” Hogi said as he flew over with a flagon, “I tell you no deathstick selling in my bar, and if you want to use you go outside. You give Hogi's bad name. This is family place.”
The death stick dealer and Malisane both looked around the bar again, and shared a quick puzzled glance, and then the man shrugged and walked away to his table.”
Malisane looked at the small glass that was put in front of him. He picked it up and took a drink of the liquid. As his throat burned and his eyes watered slightly he recognised the drink. “You have Ewok Liquor here?”
“Yeah, is very popular. Label say it is brewed on some remote world by ewoks, from ten types of plants and berries. Of course is nonsense is probably brewed in Coriela factory.”
Malisane knew the planet it was brewed on and the Sith-spawned Ewoks that did the brewing, but he shrugged. “Who knows? Bring me another.”
“Good sir, if you like I keep them coming.”

After a few minutes Cerys entered, her sightless eyes failing to notice the grim atmosphere but her nose wrinkled slightly as she smelt it. She headed over the the Sith's table.
Malisane looked up at her. “I assume you were successful, from the bantha you are carrying.”
Cerys put the toy on the table and sat down. “I came second actually, the first prize was a set of crystal glasses. I was close but lost.”
“Life is full of disappointments Captain.”
“So what is the plan sir? I assume you do not intend to eat here?”
“I am not that hungry. I am prepared to wait until we can get back to the ship.”
The Toydarian appeared with a second drink. “Hey you meet lady friend, I told you is happy hour at Hogi's. Is good for romance!”
Cerys looked up at him coldly. “Just bring me whatever he is having."
Malisane's lip twisted in what could be amusement but he said nothing.

There's no place like home ...

Slowly he opened his eyes, the black lenses embedded in his skull rising as he looked around. There was a malodorous smell coming through the mask of his hood. He looked down. He was wearing his familiar dark grey suit, with it's black armoured panels, but there was no sign of his weapons or equipment on his belt. He looked up again. The light was bright and he instinctively shut his eyes again. Slowly he opened them again. He was laid on the floor in what seemed to be a narrow alleyway. The wall on either side appeared to be made of rectangular red stones fitted together in a sheer pattern, and immediately behind him was a large metallic container, the source presumably of the smell. At the end of the alley the bright sunlight lit him up, and he was unable to make out any features in what presumably was a street beyond. Carefully he got to his feet and dusted himself down. He appeared to be uninjured. Slowly he looked around, trying to see if any equipment he had brought had fallen off in however he had got wherever this was. The was nothing familiar. Slowly and cautiously he made his way along the alleyway towards the light, his senses feeling many people beyond the alleyway. He reached the end and stepped out into the sunlight and looked around at the scene.

There were many humans walking about, or at least what appeared to be human. The street was a dark grey with several cracks and holes in it. Along the street he could make out shops and bars, with a writing above them he did not recognise. He could see nothing in Basic, which was unusual in itself most cultures used it at least as the 2nd language. Most of the shops and bars appeared to be shut and had metal over the doors and windows, though there was at least one shop open. As he began to make his way along the street, a few of the people glanced at him in his hood but they also seemed to be wearing masks over their faces, mostly white with some variation of black or colours. He sound sense a strangeness in the air, like these people had a cautiousness about them that was not related to his odd appearance, and he noticed they seemed to be maintaining a distance from each other as well. Their behaviour was strange to him compared to the hustle and bustle of most of the cities he had visited including his own city of Seng Karash on Aeotheran.

Eventually he reached a crossroads and stopped. A speeder was making its way along the street. He studied it in puzzlement. It had wheels like he had seen on some of the Imperial transports, though it was red and much smaller and had one man sat at the controls. The street he had just entered was wider and disappeared off in either direction and was dotted with more mostly closed bars. There were more people walking about, also mostly wearing face masks and keeping their distance from each other, except for couples walking together or groups of younger people. What was this place? It felt real, though often dreams did until you woke up. Nothing was right about it though, the people looked human but did not quite feel right, and the technology looked wrong, as did the languages. How had he got here?

He heard a voice behind him and turned around. There were two men facing him. They were wearing black trousers, white shirts, a strange bright yellow vest and oddly domed black helmets. A quick glance downwards revealed they had belts with items on them but nothing that looked like a projectile weapon. Malisane had seen enough law enforcement officers in his time to recognise them. They did not look threatening and their manner was relaxed. One of them spoke again in the strange language he did not recognise. He was smiling slightly but his eyes were firm.
“I do not understand you,” Malisane replied in basic. The two law enforcement officers glanced at each other, and then back at him. One made a gesture at him and spoke again, only this time more loudly and slowly, a technique Malisane himself often employed when dealing with aliens in basic. He sighed. He was becoming irritated. He had no way of knowing what they wanted, and he felt a sudden urge to drop both of them and make a quick escape. They were both large and fit looking, but he doubted they had his training, and certainly not the force. However if they were official they might be his route to understanding where he was, and more importantly if there was any way of getting back to his own world. He raised his hands and said. “I surrender to you.”

The two officers glanced at each other again, a look of confusion passing between them and then one of them made a lifting gesture to Malisane's hood and spoke more firmly. Malisane sighed. This was probably going to be tricky. Slowly his hands went to the hood, and he drew it back, pulling the hooded mask up and over his head, where it fell to his shoulders. With sudden looks of horror the officers took in the burned skin, ripped mouth and ears, missing nose and black lenses over his eyes where the lids used to be. A look of concern passed over their faces, and then one of them reached down to his chest where a communicator was hung and spoke into it. The other made a flat handed gesture to him spoke firmly again. With no other option except a sudden violent escape the Warlord patiently waited.

After a few minutes another of the wheeled speeders arrived. This one was predominantly white, with yellow and blue patterns and more of the writing he had seen earlier. It also had a strange block of blue plastic on top. Two more of the uniformed officers got out of the front, looked at him curiously taking in his disfigurements, and then spoke to the first two. Then one of them opened the rear doors of the vehicle and gestured to him. Malisane nodded. So long as they were taking him somewhere useful he was happy to comply. He crouched and sat in the back of the speeder and sat back. The door was shut behind him with a metallic clunk and the two officers who had arrived in it got in and spoke to him, one of them turning him him. Malisane still did not sense a threat from either of them, and they were speaking in a calm tone. He made a slight shrugging gesture with his shoulders and then looked ahead past them through the transparent glass. There was a light rumbling noise and the speeder vibrated slightly, as it began to roll forward and accelerate.

As the vehicle accelerated Malisane look curiously out of the window. This was a strange place. Though he recognised most of the features, shops, bars, restaurants, people, more of the wheeled speeders, the construction looked very basic to him. Even on the most remote worlds technology was fairly standard with his own. The clothes were similar to his own world's. He had not seen a single non human or droid though, though he recognised a few four legged animals that resembled small short haired wolfs, controlled by leads and clearly being kept as pets by the inhabitants. The lack of droids concerned him the most. He had to speak to these people to find out where he was, and hopefully find a ship that would take him off this world and back to Orian, and a protocol droid would help, even if it could analyse basic and interpret it into whatever language they spoke here.

Eventually they reached a squat grey building and the speeder stopped. One of the officers got out. The other looked at him in the mirror above the controls and spoke to him. Malisane sat calmly. Then the officer returned and opened the door, speaking to him. He got out and stood calmly, blinking slightly in the bright sunlight. He followed them inside through some sliding glass doors and up to a desk, behind which stood another officer. Following a conversation and some more scrutiny of the Sith he was directed to raise his arms and was searched, and then lead through a locked door and into an area behind the desk, and down a corridor. Eventually he entered what to his surprise was not a cell or containment area, but a simple while walled room with a table and four chairs. He was directed to sit at one of them and he complied. One of the officers left and the other stood by the shut door passively. The officer glanced at Malisane and said something with a slight smile. Malisane had learned in the past that smiling with his ripped mouth and broken teeth did not usually provoke a positive response and kept his features as passive as possible. He sat back in his chair.

After an indeterminate time, and an older man wearing a grey jacket and trousers, white shirt, and a blue thin scarf around his neck and trailing down his chest. He was carrying some papers and sat down. He was carrying a cup with some brown hot liquid in it. He smiled at Malisane and gestured towards the cup, speaking slowly. Malisane shook his head. He had been trained not to accept refreshments unless forced to in these situations, due to the threat of imbibing something to control him or force him to reveal more than he wanted to. The plain clothed man nodded and then looked down at his papers, rifling through them, and then placed a document in front of Malisane, speaking slowly still. Malisane glanced at it. It was covered in plastic, and on it were a long series of patterned rectangles, with what appeared to be writing under them, some matching the letters he had seen earlier and others of a different curlier or pictorial structure. Malisane looked back up at the man in confusion who pointed at the rectangles and then at Malisane, speaking to him and smiling. After a few seconds Malisane understood his meaning. “I do not understand these images,” he said speaking slowly himself, “do you have a translation droid or software? I need to speak to whoever is in charge here.”
The man frowned at him, and then spoke one word, pointing at the Sith. He paused, and then pointed to a badge pinned to his chest, and then spoke another word, and then pointed at Malisane again, speaking in a questioning tone.
“I am Sith Warlord Malisane Sadow, of Clan Naga Sadow.”
The man looked at him in confusion, and the Sith sighed. He pointed to his chest. “Mal-is-ane,” he said loudly pointing to himself.
“Mal-is-ane?” the man repeated still pointing at the Sith. He spoke a few words finishing in “Mal-is-ane?”
“Yes, Malisane,” the Sith replied.

He began to sense he was wasting his time with these people, and escape was seemingly like the more likely option. He glanced down at the belt of the officer that was stood. There was a set of cuffs, some sort of container, which presumably held liquid or gas and a long black rod with a side handle. Not much, but it was better than nothing, and none of them were a threat to the training and force abilities of the Sith. He could overcome the two men in seconds, take the meagre weapons and fight his way out with or without a hostage. However he had no idea if there were more heavily armed officers within a quick distance or how good the defences of this place was. If he had to escape here would be a more opportune moment.
The man stood up and left, and a second later other officer entered, and spoke some words followed by the elongated version of his name, gesturing. Suspecting the worst but also looking for an escape attempt, the Sith followed. He was further to the corridor, and through a door. Beyond was a woman in a white long coat and normal clothes beneath. She spoke to him, including his distorted name. Malisane's gaze flickered quickly around the room. If had a desk, and what looked like primitive medical equipment. He was directed to undress his top half, then lay on a bed covered in a thin paper covering. He was then subjected to a fairly passive medical examination, including a blood and skin sample, swab of his mouth, and a device attached to his finger connected to a machine with a display. As a light was shone into his eyes the woman frowned in puzzlement at his black lenses and she spoke to the officer who had remained with them. Finally she left the room and he was allowed to dress again. The officer lead him to room with a heavy metal door, and he was directed inside. The small rooms only contents were a basic bed and a white lidless container that appeared to be plumbed into the floor. The officer spoke to him calmly, and then left, and the door was shut behind him with a metallic thud. Malisane glanced at the bed, and then opted to remain standing. Slowly he began to calm his heart rate, and began a simple meditation routine.

Eventually the door opened again and he was lead out of the room by two officers and back to the room. He was directed to sit and a piece of paper on plastic board was given to him and a thin object, and one of the officers indicated the writing on the piece of paper, and then directed him to the bottom and spoke a word. Malisane shrugged in confusion. The officer indicated the thin object, and said a word, then “Mal-is-ane.”, taking a similar device from his own pocket and scratching it across another piece of paper, leaving a trail of black liquid that sank into the paper. Malisane not knowing what else to do made a mark on the bottom of the paper. Satisfied they took it from him and he was lead out to the reception area. Waiting for him were two other uniformed men, though these were more severe looking, their uniforms were dark blue and stricter looking. They glanced at the paper that was given to them by the other officers, and then made their own mark on it. Then they lead him outside. Waiting was a larger white vehicle with only two doors on the sides and a smooth side with more writing, and a door at the rear. One of the new officers opened the door. Inside was a small caged area, with a small seat. He was directed to sit inside and the door was closed behind him. He waited until the vehicle made a rumbling sound and vibrated slightly, and then he felt it began to move.

Malisane considered his options. It was obvious they were taking him to a more secure location, why he was unsure except maybe they had no idea what to do with him. Every attempt he had made to communicate with these people had failed. It was unlikely his next location would be more fruitful. Wherever they were taking him would probably be vastly more secure than the temporary detainment centre he had been in previously, and even with their clearly backwards technology it would be harder to escape there than his present location. He had no idea how far the journey would be, minutes or hours, and decided now was as good a time as any. Slowly he looked around the small containment area. He was inside a cage, and beyond that was the heavy door that had no handle on the inside. Slowly he focused on the initial cage door, letting his mind sink into the basic mechanism. Compared with the security systems of his own world it was ludicrously easy and the lock opened with a clunk. Then he focused on the heavy door, moving the mechanism. Finally he made a gesture and the door burst open revealing the now dark street they were travelling on.

He tensed himself for a second and then leapt, slowing himself and hitting the street smoothly and began to run. A few seconds later the vehicle screeched to a halt, and as he glanced behind him one of the officers quickly got out. The man saw and shouted as he began to run, shouting into his communicator. The vehicle began to turn ponderously as Malisane continued to run. Seeing another of the metallic containers nearby next to a building Malisane vaulted onto it, and then tensed himself and leapt higher, grabbing the flat roof above and quickly pulling himself up. He could hear the shouting below and the sound of the vehicle, and in the distance he began to hear a strange whining high pitched noise and below them the sound of more vehicles. He continued to run, leaping across a gap between two buildings effortlessly. He continued to move from the epicentre, keeping up a fast pace. Finally when he was several streets away he dropped into an alley and pulled the hood of his robe back over his head, taking a few breaths. He could hear the strange high pitched noises and the vehicles moving past him towards near where he had left them.

He began to walk out into the night. The usually fearless Sith felt an unusual stab of despair. His attempts to figure out this world he found himself in had proved ineffective. He had no idea how he had got here, where he was, or how to get back to his Clan, and he was now a fugitive. He continued to walk through the night. He did not know what to make of these strange inhabitants of this world. In some ways their civilisation was similar to his own, but in others it was vastly different. He had not been mistreated so far, though that would likely change if he was captured again and even if he could make them understand his language, would he be able to explain who he was. Malisane looked up at the sky. The light pollution and clouds made the view unimpressive, but he could make out a few stars in the sky. Was one of them Orian, or any he recognised? Who knew? He would leave this world and get home somehow. If he could not make these people cooperate then they might need to be coerced, by whatever means the Warlord had at his disposal. Buoyed by this thought he continued out into the night to find shelter and refreshments, and perhaps more understanding.