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.

Military Recon of Tarthos

Alabrek Castle
Tarthos
Orian System

The Quaestor studied the holographic map in front of him. Along with the principle cities on Tarthos a number of smaller sites were highlighted, with indicators of troop and member assignments. “It looks as if we have most of the first phase covered,” Hades commented, “our members are pretty thinly spread though.”
“The call has gone out to others,” Locke replied, “we are awaiting responses. We can hope our fellow house may send volunteers to assist.”
“Perhaps,” the Quaestor said thoughtfully, “though they have their own issues on Aeotheran and Inos.”
There was the sound of footsteps from behind, and an officer entered. “You have a visitor Quaestor,” he announced.
Hades turned. “Who?”
“The Quaestor of Shar Dakhan, sir.”
“Malisane?” Locke replied in surprise.
“Show him in,” Hades ordered.
They waited until the armoured figure entered the room, and removed his helmet to reveal his burned and ripped features.
“Greetings Malisane,” Hades said with a slight inclination of his head. “How can we help you?”
“You requested volunteers Quaestor.”
“We did indeed.” Locke confirmed cautiously.
Malisane turned to the Aedile. “I am volunteering.”
Hades glanced at Locke, and then back at his fellow Quaestor. “Very well. As you may be aware we are investigating a number of defunct facilities here on Tarthos. To see if they are worth restoring or deconstructing. We have several remaining in our first phase.”
“Give me the coordinates and some troopers and it will be done Quaestor.”
“Very well. Hades replied, “We are sending you to facility Vesh, at the north tip of Luger Mau. It is not one of ours so we suspect the Collective built it. It's designation is unknown and scans reveal nothing. A platoon and a LAAT will be waiting for you in the shuttle bay.”
Malisane nodded. “Good day.” He inclined his head, and then turned and departed.
Hades turned to Locke. “What is he up to? It seems odd him turning up.”
Locke considered this. He had spent several months working with the Dakhan Quaestor. “Do you want me to be honest?”
“Of course.”
“He gets bored easily.”
Hades frowned. “I see.”

Facility Vesh
Luger Mau
Tarthos

Malisane watched the cold and mostly featureless landscape pass. Tarthos at its best was cold and bleak and uninteresting, unless you liked dilapidated ruins or extreme hunting. He had spent a few months here a decade or so ago and had not missed it. He glanced at the young Lieutenant who was stood at the front near the cockpit. Currently the Chiss was trying to avoid the stare of the assassin droid. Zero did not like strangers and had no shame in showing it.
Lieutenant Obena, as his name was usually abbreviated to, turned to the Warlord. “Sir, we are here. We will land a safe distance away and make our way on foot for safety.”
“Very good,” Malisane replied.
The LAAT landed and immediately the Ragnos troopers deployed around it, as Malisane made his way down, followed by the assassin droid. He could see in the distance a short and squat building. Either the facility was very small or it lay below ground. At a signal from the Lieutenant the platoon began to approach and fan out surrounding the facility. A couple of troopers using specialist equipment approached ahead scanning for any defensive mines or alert systems. Malisane followed, letting his senses explore the area. He did not sense any danger. He looked down at the black assassin droid, who rolled along the hard ground smoothly as its lights flashed on and off.

They reached the door, and Malisane watched as one of the specialists worked on the lock. There was an impatient tone from Zero, as the droid watched the trooper's efforts. Malisane's head turned to regard the droid. “Quiet.” The droids head turned to him for a second, and then back to watch.
The door opened and four troopers slipped inside taking the lead, followed by the Lieutenant, Malisane and Zero. The rest followed, except for a rear guard remaining outside the facility.
It was dark inside, as the lead soldiers torches scanned the entrance room. The entrance was mostly empty, save for a few broken pieces of equipment and a desk with a missing chair. There was also a lift at one end, its panels dark.
“We need to restore the power,” Lieutenant Obena commented.
Malisane nodded, and glanced at a trooper who was examining a panel on the wall. The specialist turned. “The panel is inactive,” he replied, “the system seems to be locked out.”
“Zero,” Malisane addressed the droid, “see what you can do.”
There was a deep, sonorous tone from the droid, but it moved forward to obey. It extended it's tools and began to work on the panel. Finally it turned and made another deep tone, this time of annoyance. The Lieutenant turned to Malisane questioningly.
“We will have to do this the hard way,” the Battlelord replied.
“We can cut the door open sir.”
“Allow me,” Malisane said and walked forward, igniting his saber. He raised it and inserted it between the gap in the doors, and then began to slowly drag it downwards with a shower of sparks. Finally he turned it off and raised a hand. With a groaning sound the doors slid open revealing the empty dark shaft. At a signal from the officer a trooper stepped forward and dropped a flare into the shaft, and it fell downwards. They looked down. It was perhaps a hundred feet down, and the lift car was at the bottom.

At a signal from the Lieutenant the troopers lowered ropes into the shaft. Malisane pushed aside and went first, sliding down quickly to land on the roof of the car. A second later he was joined by two troopers who examined the roof. There was a panel and one of them skilfully opened it. They dropped into the lift and Malisane joined them. The doors were open and the Warlord looked into the darkness. He could sense something in the darkness, but his helmet display showed nothing. Slowly the two troopers with him moved forward, rifles raised. Behind him he could hear the sound of more troopers making their way down. Slowly the troopers advanced forward, more joining them at the bottom of the shaft.
“Here sir,” a trooper said pointing to another panel, “this one is lit.”
Malisane gestured to Zero, who grumblingly made its way forward and began to work on the panel, the two specialists ready to help if needed. The rest of the troopers lead by their Lieutenant made a defensive screen, their weapons ready as several shone weapons into the darkness. The room appeared to be large, and several desks and terminals could be made out.
“What is this place?” Lieutenant Obena asked, as the Chiss surveyed the darkness, “it does not look like a military base.”
Malisane shut his eyes, his senses reaching out into the darkness. “There is something here, hostile.”
“What sir?”
The Warlord opened his eyes. “I am unsure.”
The droid made a triumphant noise and a loud whirring of machinery filled the room, as the lights came on, briefly blinding the troopers who shut their eyes against the burning brightness. Malisane, his integral lenses protecting him beneath his helmet visor, was unaffected, and looked around him in surprise. Beyond several desks and cabinets, and tables in the centre of the room were a pair of corridors leading off to the left and right of the lift. There were several skeletons on the floor, surrounded by shredded pieces of clothing and armour and some discarded weapons.
“It would seem you were right sir,” the Lieutenant observed.

Malisane nodded. His senses were growing stronger now, there was something near by. “We need to search.”
Lieutenant Obena turned to his sergeant, a burly man stood nearby. “Sergeant, send two teams into each corridor. Maintain silence unless you find something significant. One team will remain here.”
Malisane watched as the NCO disposed his troops and then followed one of the teams down the right corridor, the droid following him. Malisane pushed forward to walk next to the sergeant who was leading, the Lieutenant having taken the opposite direction. He could still sense hostility somewhere near, though he could not tell what. They reached a junction, with a blank wall ahead and two more corridors leading off left and right.
“Which way now Sir?” the Sergeant asked.
Malisane looked left and right, and then his senses suddenly ramped up in intensity. “Back!” he ordered as the sound of scrabbling paws could be heard. As the eight troopers and their NCO reacted dark creatures bounded down each corridor towards them, with yellow eyes and sharp teeth. “Fire!” the sergeant ordered as his troopers took defensive positions backing off into the single corridor. Malisane drew his shotgun and fired into the creatures. Two were hit and staggered, blood bursting from them, but they kept coming as more scrabbled past them in the narrow corridor. Dropping the shotgun he ignited his saber, and as his blood began to surge he leapt forward towards the creatures, to the surprise of the troopers behind him who were backing off and firing their blasters.

Planting his feet, he scythed his white saber blade back and forth as the creatures leapt at him, as blaster fire shot past him. A second later there was an explosion as Zero fired an explosive round into the horde pushing forward, raising cries of pain from the creatures caught in the blast. Malisane backed off slightly into the single corridor, as the troopers covered him. More of the creatures burst from the two corridors and the Sith raised a hand, and then made a gesture at the ground and the floor rocked in a telekinetic detonation, sending the four legged attackers backwards as they rolled and scrabbled to right themselves.
“There are too many sir we must retreat,” the Sergeant shouted.
Malisane snarled, and then he began to back off, waving his saber warningly at the creatures as the troopers began a withdrawal, firing their weapons at any creature which bound round into the corridor from either direction. Zero loosed another explosive shot that burst amongst the creatures, causing them to roar in pain as several were torn apart.
In twos the troopers pushed back through the doorway into the main chamber. From the left corridor Lieutenant Obenas section were doing likewise. They were now moving out into the chamber, taking defensive positions to maximise firepower on the corridors. Malisane backed off into the centre of the room, Zero beside him.

Suddenly everything went quiet, aside from a quiet growling and the sound of many claws on metal concrete flooring. “They're waiting,” the sergeant observed.
The Lieutenant looked at Malisane. “They have us surrounded. Do we or retreat?”
Malisane looked back at the lift. Despite the power being back on, the controls and display were dark. “The turbo-lift is out of action, probably due to our entrance. The only way up is to climb two or three at a time. When enough of us are out the remainder will be overrun. Retreat is not an option.”
“What are those things?” the Sergeant asked, “I don't recognise them. And what are they doing down here?”
The Lieutenant glanced at Malisane who shrugged. Obenas looked around at everyone slowly. “Either they were brought in here for, or there is a secondary entrance or air filtration pipe they entered by and killed the inhabitants. Either way we have no idea how many there are left.”
Malisane walked over to a terminal in the centre and examined the display. “The fire suppression system is still operational.” He looked around at the helmeted troopers. “We all have an oxygen supply. We can flush the base with retardant gas and flush them out of whichever way they got in.”
The sergeant looked at him dubiously. “That may flush them all in here sir.”
Malisane shrugged. “That is possible. It is better than waiting. Prepare yourselves.”
Lietenant Obena nodded. “Everyone check your seals and make ready.”

As Malisane hit the controls, a loud alarm began to sound throughout the facility, and a second later gas began to pour down from the ceiling. He tensed himself and readied his saber, as around him the troopers readied themselves, gripping blaster rifles. Above the sound of the alarm a loud roaring could be heard from the corridors, and he felt the sudden emotion of panic and anger from the creatures. A second later the troopers began to fire through the gas as some of the creatures burst into the room, and the battle begun. As he braced himself, and then attacked with his saber, Zero moved forward to fire it's blaster cannon at the creatures that burst into the room, as many more were mown down by the troopers weapons. One soldier was dragged to the ground by a maddened creature that ripped at his armour seals, before a companion shot it dead. Malisane focused on any enemy that came close, keeping his feet planted and his saber swinging with both arms as creatures leapt at him through the fog that was now filling the room. One near him reared up, and then fell gasping as the air supply was pushed out up the lift shaft by the increasingly heavy blanket of gas. Finally it was harder to see in the room, and he focused on the force to see any creature that entered. Finally it went quiet.

The atmosphere in the room was heavy with weariness, tension and the gas. “I think it is over sir,” Lieutenant Obena called across the room.
Malisane nodded. “Zero, switch it off and vent it.”
There was a deep tone from nearby, and then they heard the droid motoring across the floor. Finally the alarm quietened, and a few seconds later the gas jets turned off and the sound of the air conditioning turned up. Malisane waited while the room slowly began to clear. There were several bodies of unlucky troopers, but more of the creatures. He reached out with the force and found only emptiness. Either they were all dead or many had escaped another way, but the only living creatures within a hundred metres were himself and the troopers.
“They are gone.”
“Thank the maker,” the Sergeant commented.
Malisane ignored the derisive tone from the assassin droid and turned to the Lieutenant. I will take a squad down the right corridor. Commence a search of the left.”
Lieutenant Obena nodded. “Sergeant, secure this location.”

Malisane lead the team of four troopers, one of the specialists and Zero down the corridor. They briefly searched the right turning at the junction, and found it led to a supply room and a large hole in the wall, with a battered door hanging off his hinges, presumably the way the creatures had broken in. An inclining tunnel lead off into the darkness, coming out somewhere near the cliffs. Leaving two troopers to secure it he lead the remainder back and along the left tunnel, until he came to a sealed door.
“Warlord, sir,” Lieutenant Obena's voice came over the communicator, “we have secured the right corridor. It simply leads to mess and sleeping facilities.”
“Acknowledged,” Malisane replied, “we have located and secured secondary entrance. We have found another chamber and will investigate.”
“Acknowledged sir, Obena out.”

Malisane examined the door, and tried the panel. It did not respond. He glanced at the specialist who came forward and examined it.
“It requires a palm or retinal scan sir,” she replied.
“Can you override it.”
“It will likely have an anti tamper system sir,” she told him, “and possibly trapped. It will take some time to safely bypass it, even for your droid.”
Malisane looked down at the droid, who made a deep tone, it's meaning lost. He made a decision. “Stand back.” He turned to the door, and focused on it, letting his mind search down through it's components. Painstakingly he began to slowly shift key levers and mechanisms. The troopers and even the assassin droid watched cautiously. Finally there was a loud clunking noise and the door slid open.

Malisane pressed inside, followed by the troopers. The room was dark, but he located a switch. Suddenly the chamber was illuminated, and even the world weary Sith was surprised. They were stood at the top of a platform, with metal steps leading down into the room. On the wide floor below were banks of terminals, and in front of them was what appeared to be an immense holo projector. Malisane led them quietly down, as Lieutenant Obena joined them from behind. They reached the bottom and approached the central terminal and examined it. He pressed a few buttons experimentally, and then there was a loud whirring noise. Instinctively the troopers grasped their rifles and looked around them cautiously. Then a lights on the holoprojector lit and the giant mostly frozen ball of Tarthos appeared in front of them, shimmering slightly. There was a pause and then features began to appear, first the cities of Kar Alabrek and Markosian, and then Mucenic, and then others began to dot across the planet, some already on the map he had seen earlier, and others the Ragnos Summit probably did not know about.
“A Map?” Lieutenant Obena asked.
Malisane shrugged and clicked a few more buttons, and the planet shrunk slightly, and projected moons appeared, and flickering shapes of ships moving in the planets orbit. The data pinpointed an Acclamator and Vindicator amongst other smaller ones. More much smaller images were moving across the surface of the planet, the biggest concentration around the population centres.
“More than that I think,” Malisane observed. “I suggest we return to the surface and report back to your House Summit. I suspect we have found something very useful.”

Restore the Security of Our Borders

Vindicator Life of Orian
Aeotheran Orbit
Orian System

Commander Kala Miros sat in her command chair, watching the screens. Ahead was a blank featureless grey moon, in orbit of which their prey was allegedly hiding.“Do we have any update on the sighting?”
Her first officer shook his head. “Not as yet no Captain,” he replied.
She revolved in her chair and focused on the bearded man sat behind her. “Are you sure about your intelligence Colonel?”
“It is as good as we have Commander,” he replied, “there have been three separate sightings of these vessels.”
“And you have no idea who they may be?”
The intelligence officer shook his head. “We do not believe they are Collective, they apparently lack the level of technology we associate with their ships.”
“So we could have two taskforces searching the moons of Aeotheran and Inos for pirates?”
“That is entirely possible Commander,” Senth replied, “however their activities seem suspicious for pirates. They have made no attacks on civilian freighters. They just flee when they see the Warhost, but only to a fallback position.”
Miros nodded. “We will have to see what we can do about that.”

“Captain, we have a signal,” her first officer reported.
“Identify it,” she replied.
“The trace is faint but it matches the size and speed of the target vessel.”
“Move to intercept,” the Commander ordered, moving forward in her chair.
“You must proceed with caution,” Senth urged from behind her.
“I am aware of the mission parameters Colonel.” In truth she did not want the intelligence officer here. For all the official status his rank and position gave him since they and other former Dlarit officers were drafted from the Dlarit military to the Warhost, she had been around long enough to know who the Colonel was. She was fully aware of the advanced commando programme and knew him for his actual status, at best an agent and at worst an assassin. Following his recent perceived success at Inos he had been promoted to full Colonel, but he was still an officer on paper only. She herself had faced prejudice and mistrust amongst some of the Dlarit military in the old days when she had joined from the True Brotherhood, but she had earned her place in the decade or more since.

The cruiser moved forward at a steady pace, the viewscreen ahead showing the moon as the Vindicator moved around it. “What are they doing?” the Commander asked.
“Holding position,” her first officer replied, “they show no sign of detecting us.”
Senth hummed. “That matches other sightings,” he commented, “they seem slow in detecting our vessels until they are close, though their speed still exceeds most of our fleet.”
Miros nodded. “If we can catch them in the moons gravity well we can be on them before they have time to manoeuvrer.”
“And if not?” Senth asked.
“We have our secondary option.”
“Good.”
They watched the screen as the moon moved beneath them, and then in the distance they could see the shape of a Carrack cruiser in the distance. It was sat motionless, its power and engines clearly low.
“Increase to attack speed and open fire.” Commander Miros ordered. “And break silence to the Satyr.”
“Remember we want that ship alive,” Senth urged.
“I know what I am doing Colonel.”

As the Vindicator closed in and opened fire, the enemy Carrack began to manoeuvrer, it's engines powering up as the Vindicator poured turbolaser shots into its shields. The Carrack returned fire with its side and rear weapons as it turned, hitting the Warhost vessels shields. Commander Miros had positioned the Vindicator well and the enemy ship was having to tightly manoeuvrer to gain distance from the moons gravity and get clear into open space. However the Carrack was built for speed and handling, as well as its deadly weapons array.
“They are getting away Captain,” Senth said, his voice raising slightly.
“Signal the Satyr to join us.”
As the Carrack continued to move away, its rear weapons attempting to defend against the Vindicators weapons pouring into it's weakening shields, a new threat appeared as the Arquitens cruiser made a sub light jump directly in the path of the escaping Carrack, followed by a squadron of X-Wings. As the Carrack struggled to respond to the new attacker the Satyr and it's escorting fighters joined it's firepower to that of the Light of Orian.
The two Dakhan cruisers pincered the Carrack. The enemy ship war firing at both vessels now, and its heavy weapons were weakening their shields, but the combined assault of them and the fighters was beginning to take their toll.
“Enemy shields failing Captain,” the first officer reported.
“Target their engines and power supply,” she ordered, “and open a hail.”
“Done ma'am.”
She raised her voice. “Hostile ship, this is Commander Miros of the Orian Warhost. You are ordered to surrender. If you do not you will be destroyed.”
There was no response.
“That may be their orders Commander,” Senth commented.
“Well that is not going to happen.”

The Carrack was slowing as its shields failed and the shots from the two Dakhan cruisers began to bite into its armour, targetting critical points. Finally there was an explosion from its rear and it began to list, slowly rotating in the moons gravity.
“Bring us in close and lock a tractor beam on them. We need to keep them away from that moon. Order the Satyr to assist. Order the special missions company to prepare for boarding.”
Senth nodded in approval. So far the ambush had been textbook. “With your permission Commander I will accompany the boarding party.”
She had no reason to deny the request, though she would have if were possible. She did not appreciate the faux intelligence officer interfering in her task.“Very well Colonel. Meet them in the hangar.”
Senth saluted and left the bridge. Kala Miros was not sad to see him go.

Senth sat aboard one of the CR25 troop carriers as they made their way out of the Vindicators hangar and out into space towards the prone Carrack, accompanied by several wings of escorting fighters. He watched as the enemy ship grew larger. They separated, each heading for an insertion point in the cruisers hull, and his own ship made for the port hatch. The detachment was under command of a gruff senior sergeant, who clearly knew his business, and was split into troopers, sharpshooters and specialists. They were arguably the finest soldiers House Shar Dakhan had at their disposal and inclusion was earned by the best from the other companies.
The CR25 lined up with the port hatch and two of the specialists began work in the hatch. Sergeant Malox looked over at Senth. “You may want to hang back when we go in Colonel, and let my boys and girls handle the rough stuff,” he said gruffly, “we wouldn't want you to get hurt sir.”

Senth looked back at him coolly. However good the sergeant and his troopers were, the former clone commando had been literally grown to “handle the rough stuff” and had lost count of how much of it he had seen over the years. However he was an observer here. “Very well Sergeant.”
Sergeant Malox turned to his troopers. “Okay this is it. We go in, neutralise anything we meet and take the vessel corridor by corridor. We don't know who these people are so assume the worst but do us proud.”
The hatch opened with a flash and the specialists stood quickly aside as in rows of four the troopers and sharpshooters quickly made their way inside, firing their blasters at defenders who lined the corridor. Sergeant Malox, holding a vibrosword in one hand and a heavy blaster in the other, charged in after his troopers. Then Senth followed, gripping his carbine.

The defenders were lining the corridor, hiding behind hastily assembled barriers or doorways, as the Dakhan troopers took the fight to them. Senth remained near the hatch to the CR25, aiming and firing his carbine with deadly accuracy. Several of the Dakhan troopers hurled grenades over the heads of the defenders, to explode causing them to as several unlucky ones were caught in the explosion and went down. The defenders were undeterred however, and fought back with skill and proficiency. Senth studied them as he fought. They were not the badly trained and armed pirates or insurgents he had been expecting, they were professional troopers in black armour that looked oddly familiar. He watched as one came forward, meeting Sergeant Malox with a sword of her own, and the NCO battled with her as their blades met and the blaster bolts from both sides sizzled around them. The enemy NCO's blade carved a gap down the side of Maloxs armour, before the Sergeant knocked her blade away, and then swung the hand carrying the heavy pistol round to smash into the side of her armoured head. As she fell he raised his sword and drove it down into her chest.

Senth moved forward with the troopers, forgetting his promise to stay back. The armoured defenders were fighting bravely, and amongst them were uniformed crew that added to their numbers, but Malox's elite troopers outnumbered them and were driving them back. Another enemy defender with a heavy sword drove at the commando officer, and Senth angled his body so that the sword whistled past, and then grabbed the arm pulling the enemy closer to him, and then pointed his left vambrace directly at the eye socket and drove a sharp dart straight into the right eye, before dropping the corpse. Slowly the remaining defenders backed off, as the Dakhan force had a renewed surge of confidence. As they moved forward more troopers came from the opposite direction towards the hangar, the force on one of the other CR25s, and with reinforcements the boarders gained more ground against the outnumbered defenders and their lightly armoured allies. Suddenly an order seemed out to the defenders, and their retreat quickened, fighting backwards as they aimed their shots at the assaulting Dakhan troops.

Sergeant Malox stopped for a second, and nudged one of the dead defenders with his foot, looking at the man in black armour. “They're good are this lot, not what you expected, eh sir?”
Senth looked down at the trooper, a slightly sick feeling washing over him. He recognised the armour now, it was very familiar to him even though the pattern and insignias had changed. “ No Sergeant, they are definitely not what I expected. We must take the bridge quickly.”
“Aye, we will sir. Follow me.”
The bridge was at the end of a long corridor, and the defenders were battling to protect it. Any attempt to persuade them to surrender had proved fruitless, and each fought bravely and relentlessly. Senth fought alongside Malox, the Sergeant now apparently accepting that the Colonel was not just some intelligence desk jockey that needed nursemaiding. The two made an efficient pair, as they took the centre as Dakhan troopers either side battled driving back the defenders or mowing them to the ground, and many of their own numbers suffered the same fate.
Finally the attackers were too much and they battled their way through the doors to the bridge, kicking aside crates that had been placed in the entrance. There were less than twenty remaining defenders now, and they stood fiercely around their leader, firing at the attackers as they were picked off one by one. Sergeant Malox leapt forward at the leader, a man in familiar heavy armour. The man moved left and grabbed the Sergeants wrist, twisting and flipping Malok, who hit the deck hard, the wind knocked out of him. As his troopers raised their blasters Senth shouted, “Hold your fire!” As the troopers obeyed, Senth looked at the enemy officer, his eyes sweeping up and down the ARC armour, until he focused on the symbol on his chest, the twenty-ninth letter in the Aurabesh alphabet. “Onith.”
The officer looked at him through his helmet visor. “Senth.”

Onith slowly pulled off his helmet, revealing his white hair and the features that were practically identical to Senth's own, except for a long scar running from brow to chin down the left hand side. The other former DAC met Senth as the Colonel pulled off his own helmet. “So,” Onith commented coldly, “you remain their puppet.”
“What are you doing here?” Senth demanded.
“We came home,” Onith replied, “to take revenge. For what they did to us, breeding us to be their servants.”
“To take revenge,” Senth repeated, “with small force of Dlarit marines and three old Carrack cruisers, against the entire Warhost?”
An amused look washed over the face of he scarred clone. “Of course not, things are much more serious for you than that. As Naga Sadow will soon see.” He looked into Senth's eyes. “So, do you still serve the madman?”
“No but I work with him occasionally,” Senth replied, “So, do you surrender?”
“Of course not,” Onith replied, “but then you knew that.”
“We need you alive,” Senth replied, “you might be conditioned against interrogation, we all were, but you know what the Clan are capable of. You will tell us.”
The cold smile remained on Onith's features, and then with a sudden movement he hurled himself at his fellow advanced commando, grabbing Senth and aiming his own vambrace laser at Senth's head. Senth grabbed the wrist and aimed a blow with his free hand at Onith's face, his armoured fist striking the enemy clone's chin. Onith grunted as his head was driven back, and his leg lashed out hitting Senth's chest. As Senth was knocked back, Orinith raised his wrist and fired at Senth, the shot burning along the left hand side as the Warhost officer moved quickly to avoid a lethal shot.

Sergeant Malox was on his feet again, and he bade his troopers to wait as they watched the two clones exchanging blows and shots as they circled each other. He could probably hit the enemy clone as they quickly moved around in front of him, but there was a risk and he was now slightly in awe of their combat skills. The blond hair scarred features of Onith and the dark haired and short bearded matching face of Senth were locked in intensity at each other. There was nothing between them and though each of their armour showed cuts and blaster marks, neither had sustained a serious injury. Then Onith extended himself slightly too much and Senth grabbed his arm pulling him close, and a small blade extended from his right vambrace, finding a gap in the clones armour and driving it in. As Oniths face twisted in pain he smashed a flailing first into Senths head, as the Warhost clone twisted the blade inside him. Finally he collapsed as blood squirted from his wound.
“Surrender,” Senth spat, his usually calm demeanour gone now.
“Go to hell!” Onith snarled through his pain.
“Who are you working with, what is this threat?”
“You will find out puppet!” Onith replied. He made a sudden biting movement, and then a substance began to dribble from his mouth and his eyes glazed over.
Senth dropped the body. “Damn. We needed him alive.”
“Aye sir,” Sergeant Malox replied. “I'll get my tech boys to give their databank a look over. We might find something useful.”
The Colonel nodded. “Hail Commander Miros and request she sends a skeleton crew to take over. I will inform the Summit of what we have found and tell them what to expect from the other Carracks. If there are others like Onith one might be taken alive.” He turned and left the bridge.

Droids Need Love Too
Mount Dakhan
Planet Aeotheran
Orian System
Naga Sadow Space

The ante chamber was quiet. Moonlight shone through the glass windows, as the crescent slowly rose over the snowy mountains. To an observer the room was a nearly organised area of boxes and storage containers. The automatic lights were off casting shadows across the room. The only artificial light was a dull red flashing one, mounted on the chest panel of the silent black astromech, it's body silent and immobile. It was not clear how long it had been sat there. Days? Weeks? Months. In it's shut down mode it had no way of knowing.

Suddenly the panel lit up, as more lights began to quickly flash across the surface of the panel. Finally the droid twitched, and then began to move forward on the small wheels beneath it's three legs. It moved through the doorway which automatically opened into a corridor, and then turned left and then right in a smooth circle, before approaching a computer port on the wall. A probe emitted form the droid's midsection into the port, and it rotated before locking into place. Once more the lights on it's panel flashed in seemingly random pattern, and then the probe retracted. The droid made a deep sonorous bell like tone, and then turned on a circle and made for the turbolift.

The lift door opened into the hangar and Zero made it's way across into the large cavernous area. It stopped as it studied the hangar. House Shar Dahkan soldiers and personell walked back and forth, on one purpose or another, all of them ignoring the black astromech as several others and different droid types moved around. The droid made another deep sound, and then it revolved and made for another wall computer port. Zero extended and locked it's probe once more, and waited until its' commands were entered. Finally it made it's way smoothly across the hangar, and waited.

A few seconds later a large robotic arm extended, scanning the droid, and then wrapping it's metallic claws around the astromech and lifting it, before lowering it into a metal crate which slid shut. A few seconds later the crate itself was lifted, swivelling around as the arm extended and then lowered it into a waiting shuttle. Zero waited inside its' crate until it detected movement and rumble of engines and vibrations as the craft lifted off. Satisfied the droid entered it's standby mode and the panel lights dimmed once more.

Seng Karash Starport
Aeotheran

Unlike the passenger areas the cargo bays were quiet, the only footfall were maintenance people and pilots going off for a well earned drink while their cargoes were unloaded. Droids and robotic machinery supervised the unloading of crates. As one of them was placed onto the hard floor there was a pause, and then the clasp of the crate began emit a shower of sparks, followed by the side collapsing with a metal clang, and Zero rolled out into the bay. It rotated a couple of times observing it's surroundings, and then began to motor across the floor towards the exit. Then it stopped. A pair of guards were making their way towards him, talking and not paying attention. Quickly the droid moved into cover under a large storage shelf and waited, its one red light flashing quietly. Once they had passed Zero continued. It rolled on looking for an access port, and finding one it logged in and began to search. After a few seconds the droid retracted it's probe once more and began to move, and then stopped. The two guards were looking directly at it and it heard them talking to each other as they advanced, raising their rifles. Quickly Zero's upper panel rotated left and right, looking for an escape, but saw none, and then it focused back on the guards who were now shouting at it. The droid reacted instantly. From behind it the blaster cannon extended and it instantly took aim, firing. One the of the guards was knocked back by the first shop, his chest smoking as he collapsed. The second returned fire, narrowly missing the droid. Zero aimed and fired a second shot, taking the other guard down. As alarms began to sound the droid quickly made it's way forward past the bodies, scanning for an exit. It accelerated, making it's way out into into the main area. It could sense more guards running towards it and kept going. Several shots fizzled past it but it ignored them, focusing on heading towards the exit. There was a fire door at the end of a narrow corridor, now sealed due to the alarm. Without stopping Zero opened another panel, extending its anti armour rifle. Slotting a round into place it aimed and fired. The door exploded outwards in a burst of flame and metal and Zero raced through the flames, out into a small alleyway. Looking round it saw the exit at the end was clear, and seeing open street it motored towards it, gaining as much ground as possible on the chaos it had left behind.

Zero lurked in the park, beneath the shadow of a large tree. Above the sun was shining through the protective glass dome, and families, couples and workers on their break walked, played or sat and ate. None of it meant anything to the droid, it was purely focused on the mission it had been given. As its head rotated back and forth it scanned the faces, checking them against the image in its database. So far it was negative on matches. It waited patiently, and then it made a match. A man was walking through the park, accompanied by two other men and heading towards the north exit that lead to the leisure district . The droid made a series of calculations. The human was in range, and it was likely it could make a successful attack before the humans accompanying had time to react. The ensuing panic caused in the park would give an opportunity to escape, but if the droid somehow missed then the panic would have the opposite effect. Slowly Zero began to move.

It trailed the man through the park entrance and past the Aeotheran Security Force troopers who paid no attention to the droid. Though it was likely that the incident at the shuttle port had been reported, the city was full of droids of every shade and description, and it passed unnoticed. The droid studied the man intently as he passed a line of speeders. If the target began to get into one then Zero would have to take immediate action. A vehicle would be too hard to follow and the risk of loosing the target was too high. It powered up it's blaster cannon but kept it out of sight. It would have time to fire if necessary, either at the target itself or a vehicle. The target made no attempt to enter a speeder and kept on walking past them, and then turned into an alley, his companions taking a furtive look behind and following. Zero increased it's speed slightly, to ensure it did not loose sight on the target.

The target walked down the alley and stopped at the end. Zero watched from the alley entrance, analysing the scene. The targer and his companions had met another three humans, and they were conversing. From their tone the conversation did not appear friendly. The droid scanned them, detecting blaster pistols concealed about each of their persons. Slowly the droid moved forward, a series of scenarios running through it's brain. The six humans were still engaged in a loud conversation, and Zero detected an increase in body heat. Zero surveyed the alleyway. There was a doorway leading off, which had a heavy metal grill covering it, and a large waste bin. It slowly began to extend it's blaster cannon, and fixed it's aim on the target. Then it fired.

As the man fell, the others from both parties drew their weapons, moving into defensive positions. Spotting the droid they fired, and a shot bounced off the armour plating, the others missing. Zero could hear sounds of shouting from behind him, as people reacted to the sound of blaster fire. It fired back, narrowly missing a man who was taking cover. The could now hear the sounds of armoured feet from the street and sirens. Wanting to bring this to a close, the droid extended it's anti armour rifle, aimed and put a shot in between the troopers. The explosion missed them but caused them to move back, still firing. Then as Zero moved behind the metal bin, seeking cover, it heard the sound of shouting, followed by more blaster fire from behind as security troopers arrived and mistook the situation for a standoff.

Zero hid behind the bin, powering down to minimum functionality, listening to the sound of blasters as more troopers arrived and joined the fight and it could hear speeders above. Waiting for a short while longer, it began to roll up the alley back towards the street. In the chaos behind no one noticed it. It rolled out into the open and set off quietly, making for a safe location it could lie low until it could report it's success and be collected.

Shades of the Past - A Clone's Tale.

The Centoa Facility
Gamuslag
Orian System
28 ABY

“Name. Rank. Designation.”
The clone slowly opened his eyes and met those of the bearded man wearing the uniform of a Dlarit Admiral in front of him. He was disorientated but the words instantly came to him as his hand snapped into a salute. “Senth, Captain, Delta-19.”
The Admiral studied him for a few seconds and nodded. “Make your way to the holding area Captain.”
Senth saluted again, and as the flag officer moved to the next cylinder he glanced to his left to see a figure wearing the same white coverall he himself wore disappearing into another room. His eyes snapped back right to where the Admiral was addressing the occupant of the next cylinder. He was accompanied by a man with a tattooed face and red armour. Senth slowly stepped out of the cylinder, and began to walk down the corridor and passed into the next chamber. Eighteen other men with the same facial features but slightly different hair or face coverings were stood to attention in neat ranks and Senth quickly joined at the back, next to the one with “Delta-18” written on the breast of his coverall. He waited silently with the others for the next thirty minutes as slowly the remaining fifteen clones joined the ranks in the chamber. Finally the officer entered the room, still followed by the tattooed man.

“At ease!” the officer ordered. “I am Admiral Araic Simonetti, commander of the Dlarit Security Force and the Dlarit Special Operations Group, the latter of which you are now members of. It is our duty to protect Clan Naga Sadow and the Orian System in which they make their home.” He indicated the tattooed man stood next to him who silently surveyed the ranks. “This is Consul Macron Sadow, the leader of Clan Naga Sadow, who in turn serves the Clan Overlord, Astronicus Dlarit Sadow, the heir of Naga Sadow himself.”
The tatooed man spoke up then. “As the Admiral has told you, I am the Consul of this Clan. For several months now since the Clan's withdrawal at Antei, the Admiral and I have worked to develop our cloning programme, to refresh our forces and improve their efficiency. And you are the ultimate result of those efforts, the Dlarit Advanced Commando programme. You are the best, the elite, given every ability and strength we can give you to serve our Clan and our members. Each of you is the best our military forces have at our disposal.”
The Admiral waited for the Consul to finish and then spoke up. “Over the coming months your natural strengths and abilities will be honed through intense training and study. It will be hard, and difficult, and any that fail those standards will be terminated rather than that failure remain. And when it is done you will be assigned duties. You will guard and serve the Clan's senior members, you will be spread amongst our fleet and ground forces to enforce the Clan's authority and keep a watchful eye on our officers and crews, and you will guard our most secret locations. You will be the backbone of our forces and protect and serve at the highest level and with the highest efficiency.
The Consul continued then. “As the Admiral has said. We expect the best from you and we will accept no failure. However we have every confidence that you will live up to our high expectations and the effort we have undertaken in your creation. For now you are dismissed. You will go to your assigned quarters and prepare for your training.”
As one the thirty four Dlarit Advanced Commandos snapped to attention and saluted.

The next few weeks had been an intense cycle of classroom study and combat training. In the classroom they had listened to lectures about Clan Naga Sadow, including its history, it's politics, the make-up of it's forces and the geography of the Orian system and the wider Dark Brotherhood it was a part of. It had also included extensive education in biology, tactics, languages, technology and weapon craft and techniques around both surveillance and counter surveillance.
Their afternoons had spent in the training halls, both in hand to hand combat with each other practising both armed and unarmed techniques and in the firing ranges, as well as simulated missions against both each other and artificial opponents. These had included assassinations, anti terrorist operations and storming techniques and diplomatic protection.

Senth worked his way diligently through his training. Despite the weeks together there was little bonding amongst the DACs. Meal times were a silent affair as they ate their rations together on long benches, the classroom was quiet except for when a student was prompted to answer a question or offer a counter point to theory. Even the hand to hand combat was performed quietly and efficiently, the only voices those of the instructors. And in the evenings they ate silently and each returned to their small room with it's bunk, wardrobe and bathing facilities, where they meditated and contemplated the days lessons and activities before sleep.
Senth, or Delta-19 as he was designated, found the routine and the expectations of his superiors reassuring and fulfilling. He was however beginning to observe changes in some of his fellow clones. Though most like himself went quietly and efficiently through their duties, he began to notice several becoming more heated in the combats, more driven in the classrooms to put themselves forward, and the usual calm visage expected of all the clones occasionally cracking into a smile of triumph at a success, or annoyance at a defeat, or amusement at the fall of another. The instructors and the Summit observers seemed to take notice of this but did not appear to comment. Senth resolved to do likewise and focus on himself and his own progression.

The next few weeks took them out of the classroom and the Centoa facility itself. Bundled onto shuttles at short notice, usually in the night or occasionally during mealtimes, they hastily donned their armour and readied their weapons. Together they explored the forest of Sepros and jungles of Aeotheran, hunting creatures for either defence or food, trekked across the frozen areas of Tarthos, performed high altitude jumps over high and low gravity moons, stormed ships and walked around the cities of Seng Karash trailing suspects or delivering packages under the noses of the authorities where detection would mean failure and detention.

Finally they were taken back to Centoa and each was taken to a dark room with an officer, stripped, and subjected to hours repeated screeching noises, interrogation, pain and beatings, and drugs designed to sap the will or confuse. Senth like his fellows went through all of this with a steely determination to succeed and offering no complaints.

Finally it came to and end. Each of the DACs were summoned to an office to meet the Consul and the Admiral. Each walked out with an assignment as indicated before. Some were assigned to members of the Summit or the Sons of Sadow to act as their personal agents. Others would assume the new position of Commissar in the regiments of the Dlarit Security force or aboard the capital ships, maintaining discipline and reporting unrest. Some were designated as liaisons with the other Clans of the Brotherhood or the Dark Council, or sent to subtly spy on them and other nearby forces. In turn each of them walked in and out, some of them showing triumph and a few annoyance in the traits that more of the clones had begun to display but Senth himself had yet to feel or understand. Finally as he watched the last leave. Delta-1 or Aurek, walked proudly out without a glance at Senth, heading for the Marakith Skyhook. Delta-19, now stood alone in the hall.

Senth continued to stand to attention in the empty room. For the first time doubts began to creep in. He had performed well throughout the training. His academic test scores and combat accuracy were not the best amongst the thirty four clones but it had consistently been in the top third. He had remained obedient and professional throughout. The only black mark on his record had been two weeks earlier when he had lost his mark on Aeotheran, but his backup Delta-5 had completed the mission and after the debrief no further action had been taken.
Had he failed for some reason he did not understand? He knew that around a third of the clones had begun to display emotions and individuality. Perhaps that had been the intention for them? Was his own failure that of not developing in the way expected, to become more than a clone?

“Delta-19, report to the briefing office.”
Senth quickly marched to the room and entered standing to attention and saluting. Behind the desk Admiral Simonetti and Consul Macron Sadow waited for him.
“At ease Captain,” Macron said with a cold smile. “I am sure you are eager to hear your assignment, but unfortunately someone had to be last.”
Senth displayed no emotion, his gaze focused on the wall behind the two leaders.
The Admiral spoke up. “You have performed well Delta-19, and we have your assignment that reflects your abilities. We would like to brief you on it.” He paused. “You are to be assigned to the planet Kangaras. You are familiar with that location?”
Senth was, though he was surprised by the mention of it. “Yes sir,” he replied, “former base of the True Brotherhood, who the Clan first en-counted and defeated there four years ago, sir.”
Macron gave the same cold smile. “Indeed Captain, I was there myself on that mission. And now?”
Senth thought, “Surveys were taken of the planet to determine if it was suitable for development or mining sir, but the geography and hostile creatures make it unsuitable for either. It was abandoned the following year.”
The Consul smiled. “Well done Captain. You have studied well. That is the correct official response.”
Simonetti nodded. “It is not however the truth. Kangaras, like this facility here on Gamuslag, is one of our more secretive black sites. We have a small presence there within the planets only permanent structure, Usharak Keep, where we conduct scientific experiments and surveillance.”
Macron took over. “This is not official. Both the Dark Council, and the other Clan's of the Brotherhood, are wary of any clan expanding it's territory without agreement, in case we get above ourselves or reveal our presence to the rest of the galaxy. So officially we do not have any forces or facilities there. In reality we have a company strength force and several of our scientific community stationed there permanently. You understand the secrecy of this and you will work to maintain that.”
“Yes sir.”

Macron waited a few seconds. “There is a secondary part of your duties. As Kangaras is secret we chose one of our members as prefect to oversee it. You are familiar with Battlemaster Malisane de Ath?”
Senth nodded. “Yes sir, former Clan Envoy and Quaestor of Ludo Kressh. Now officially on sabbatical sir.”
Macron nodded. “Indeed. You are being assigned to serve him as his official bodyguard and agent, as others have to ourselves and other Clan dignitaries. That being the case there are several things you should probably be aware of.”
Senth felt his apprehension rising again. “Sir?”
“He is, or was, a very promising rising member of the Clan,” Simonetti said quietly as he glanced at his Consul, “once intended for great things. However earlier this year he resigned from both Quaestor and a senior position within the Shadow Academy unexpectedly, and removed himself from view. His behaviour has become increasingly erratic, and given his past and who his father is we are concerned about him and what he might do next.”
Senth looked back at the Consul who was watching him intently. “None of this is official as we said, Senth. You are being assigned as his agent, and of course your loyalty is now to him. However should anything concern you about his actions you should remember where you came from.”
“Yes sir,” Senth replied. “Is he expecting me sir?”
Simonetti shook his head. “No, as a matter of fact. Though many of the Summit, Prefects and Sons of Sadow responded enthusiastically to the DAC programme, Battlemaster de Ath made it clear he did not want or need a bodyguard and firmly rebuffed the offer.”
Macron's smile became even darker, the tattooed Consul's eyes gleaming. “He is however having one anyway. And you are he.”
“Indeed,” the Admiral added, “he will not be pleased, he will probably not mind his manners, so I suggest you mind yours.”
“Yes sir.”
“Good, then you are dismissed.”

Kangaras
Undesignated System

Senth studied the view from the shuttles window curiously as it descended. The jungle of Kangaras was thick and dark, beyond anything he had seen on Aeotheran or Sepros. Ahead he could make out an ancient keep rising from amongst the jungle, on a clifftop with a single path up to it and a sheer drop behind. Surrounding the keep on each side he could just make out four small settlements, with what appeared to be flames burning in them rather than artificial lighting. As the keep grew larger he could make out Dlarit troops on the battlements, and several turbolasers built into the sides of the structure. The keep gave off a forbidding air he was unable to place. He felt the engines power down as the shuttle began to descend towards a clearing directly in front of the keep. When they landed the ramp lowered and he grabbed his bag and stepped out into the empty clearing. Ahead several Dlarit troopers stood to attendtion either side of a large entrance, over which stood a curious metallic portcullis that was open. As Senth made his way forward a female officer walked out of the gate and walked forward, her blonde hair in a tight bun and her black D:SOG uniform showing the rank of Major.
Senth saluted her. “Captain Senth maam, reporting to the Prefect.”
She looked at him curiously, noting his rank bars. “A Dlarit Advanced Commando. Well, well, well. We were wondering if one of you would grace us with your presence. I am Major Voss and I command the forces here. I will show you to the Prefect.”
“Thank you,” he replied.
“As you will be aware this is Usharak Keep,” she continued, “as you will be aware this is an unofficial Dlarit facility and security is high.”
“I understand Major.”
“Good,” she replied, “there is a certain amount of curiosity amongst my troopers about you DACs. Some are eager to meet you, some are naturally suspicious. We have heard all sorts of rumours. The Prefect himself seems to be keeping his thoughts guarded on the matter.

Senth did not reply. He followed her into the entrance hall and looked around. It was empty except for torches on the walls, and several corridors and winding staircases leading elsewhere. Then he stopped and his eyes opened in surprise. At waist height, six creatures that approached him. They each carried blaster carbines in their paws and pikes strapped to their backs. They had black fur, armour that seemed to be welded to their chests rather than worn, and dark suspicious eyes that suddenly focussed on him suspiciously and intently. There was something deeply unsettling and predatory about them that even the usually fearless clone could sense. He looked at the Major who was regarding him with an amused look. “Are they..?”
She nodded. “The Sith-spawned Ewoks. Bred here on Kangaras by our Consul and the Prefect himself. Be very, very wary of them. To those they trust they are intensely loyal. To others they are deadly and merciless. They hunt in packs and I have never seen them back down from anything, and when you meet some of the creatures that call this planet their home that you will appreciate the significance of that.” She raised the communicator on her hand and spoke into it, and an unpleasant noise began to emerge from it, apparently translating her words though into what he was not sure. Though he had not studied ewokese, he had heard some of it in videos and this was something very different. The creature's gaze left the clone, glanced at her, and then spread out, walking around and past them outside through the gate.
Senth watched them go. “Do they live here?”
She shook her head. “No they have their own villages. Four of them, each two miles from the keep, with one hundred and fifty of them living there. They patrol the area around us and drive off the more vicious creatures that come too close. They seem to enjoy it, though I suppose they were conditioned to.”
Senth remembered the look they had given him. He had not seen that look on any creature or person he had encountered either in the Orian jungles or the frozen wastes. And there were six hundred of them out there? He felt a slight shiver.

He followed her up the stairs and down a corridor until they reached a heavy wood door. She knocked on it. “Enter!” a voice called.
She pushed it open and saluted the figure sat at the desk. “Prefect, I have with me Captain Senth reporting for duty sir, a Dlarit Advanced Commando.”
“Show him in.”
Senth entered and also saluted the man sat at the desk, studying him. The Battlemaster was of average height but well built, and had shortly clipped black hair above a pair of blue eyes. The eyes studied him and for a second their intensity matched those of the ewoks he had met a few moments ago. “You are dismissed Major.”
“Yes sir,” she saluted and left.
The Battlemaster's eyes continued to study the clone. “So, you are Delta-19?”
“I am sir, reporting for duty. You should have received my orders, sir.”
“I did indeed,” Malisane replied, “I made it clear to Macron and Simonetti I neither desire nor need a bodyguard. And yet here you are Delta-19.”
“Yes sir.”
“So what do I do with you now Delta-19?”
“I am here to obey your orders and carry out whatever duties you see fit,” Senth replied, keeping his features neutral.
Malisane nodded. “Very well. Your orders are to find a shuttle, return to Sepros, despatch the Consul and the Admiral, and then terminate yourself.”
Senth fought to keep his expression passive and focused his gaze on the wall behind the Prefect. He felt a rise in irritation he had not experienced before. “That would be contradictory to my primary directives, sir.”
“I see Delta-19. Then in the time being find yourself quarters in the keep and await further instructions. You may amuse yourself in whatever way you are conditioned to until you are needed, should that ever be the case.”
Senth saluted. “Very good Prefect.” He turned sharply and left the room.

He sat with his eyes closed on the floor by the single bed. The room was small and functional, reminding him of his quarters back at the Centoa facility. The main difference was that where this old quarters had gleaming white walls, this was dark grey stone. A small window at one end gave a view of the dark jungle in the distance, with a shimmering forcefield keeping the heat in and hostile forces out. As he sat focusing on his breathing he contemplated his experience since arrival. The encounter with the seemingly sociable Major, the sinister alchemically altered ewoks and the both sinister and unsociable Battlemaster had been a trial. His emotions throughout were new and unsettling. Where there had been tranquillity and simple obedience and compliance to the rules and his training there was now conflict and confusion as he fought between feelings of doubt, irritation, and apprehension. Was this what the other DACs had experienced? If this was personal growth, he was unsure whether it was positive or negative. He knew he had to deal with it though.

His eyes opened as the communicator on the wall beeped. He stood smoothly. “Captain Senth here.”
“Delta-19”, the Prefects voice came through, “a situation has arisen that I feel will be a good test for your advanced commando abilities.”
“Yes sir?”
“You are to proceed to the following coordinates I am relaying now, within the jungle. We have received reports from our patrols of something that may be an intruder or a probe. You will investigate and report back.”
“I understand sir.”
“Very good. Then proceed Delta-19”

Senth sat on the BARC speeder as he guided it through the dark jungle, the sensor display in front of him showing any movement ahead. There was some small signs of life out there, but nothing major. He was still within two miles of the keep, the area the Major had referred to as patrolled, which the other troopers dubbed the 'Ewok Exclusion Zone'. His target coordinates were two miles beyond that, where anything could happen. He again felt a rise in curiosity, and something else, an anticipation of events to come. He glanced at his display and saw a red line on the map, helpfully programmed into the speeders computer to indicate he was leaving the safe zone. He focused now. Hopefully most of whatever lived out here were active during the daytime and peaceful at night. The alternative was a concern however. Still he'd been on Sepros how much worse could it be.

His senses heightened at the sound of a blaster bolt and he felt something hit the speeder, which began to shake as sparks burst from behind him and though he couldn't smell it beneath his helmet a quick glance behind him revealed smoke began to trail from the back where flames began to emerge. He pushed the throttle forward, accelerating it for a few seconds as a second blaster bolt scorched over his shoulder. He felt the BARC shake and heat from behind him began to sink through his armour. With no other option he released his grip and jumped, feeling a jot as his jetpack fired up lifting him upwards, another blaster bolt passing beneath him. He saw the explosion as the speeder hit a tree, and then there was silence. He manoeuvred himself a bit further up and landed on a thick tree branch, ducking down. Pulling his own blaster from his back he surveyed the quiet surroundings. His display revealed several movements, something flying nearby and a large creature moving ponderously across the ground below to the west. Neither of which were likely to carry blasters. Then there was a movement in a tree nearby and another bolt scorched through the air towards him. He ducked and fired back. There was another shot from behind and he dropped backwards off the tree branch, falling towards the ground. As he reached it he fired a short burst from his jetpack, just enough to land smoothly on the ground.

He ducked and hid behind a bush, gripping his blaster carbine as his mind raced. This was odd. He was over a mile from the target coordinates he had been sent to investigate. Perhaps they were wrong, or whatever had been detected was on the move towards the keep? He raised his head, his helmet scanner revealing nothing as his gaze swept across the surroundings. The blasts had come from different directions, and some of them were from above high in the treetops. Whatever was firing at him were both small and manoeuvrable, droids maybe? As he considered that his scanner picked up a quick movement and he ducked as something hit the shoulder pauldron of his armour, scraping across it leaving a groove. He hit the ground and lay still, his helmet turning as he reached out and grabbed something long and metallic, pulling it towards himself. It was a black pike that had been thrown at him, like the ones he had seen earlier in the keep. A dreadful suspicion hit him, as suddenly he heard a high pitched series of cries, and more blaster bolts scorched towards him.

Senth rolled and his hand went to his belt, pulling the imploder from it and activating it. He waited for a few seconds until he heard soft movement, and then threw it into the bushes nearby. There was an explosion nearby shaking the trees, and then a much larger one that ripped through the surrounding area throwing dirt and wood from the ground up into the air, and above it he heard a loud screech of pain that was quickly silenced. Quickly he was on his feet and he thumbed the controls of his jetpack, sending him upwards once more as he fired at more indications of movement, and return fire narrowly missed him. His gaze swept up to a creature huddled on a tree branch above. He could not see it's eyes watching him, but he knew it was and it fired at him, missing his body but hitting the jetpack on his back. For the second time again he heard a burst of explosion from behind him and as the jetpack burst into flames he hit the release on his chest and began to fall, reaching out for a handhold as the ground rushed towards him. His hands caught a tree branch and he gripped it as it creaked but held and his arms burned as they took his weight. He looked upwards. He knew there were still more of the creatures up there, and on the ground below. He was a sitting target. He braced himself and let go, falling to the ground and hitting it hard, rolling. He had lost his blaster carbine and drew the smaller pistol from his belt. Slowly he raised himself up. Then he heard the loud whine of repulsor engines and looked up towards a shuttle lowering towards him and landing on the ground nearby. Above the engines he heard a voice shouting through the speaker, not in basic but in the strange language he had heard earlier.

Then the voice changed to understandable galactic basic. “Captain Senth, is that you?”
Senth waited for a few seconds. Was this a trap?
“Captain Senth, I repeat. This is Major Voss. We detected an explosion and the trail from your speeder. If you can here please respond.” The shuttle ramp lowered revealing light and an armoured figure holding a blaster rifle, as two more followed down the ramp.
Slowly the clone raised himself up cautiously. “I am here Major.”
She walked towards him. “Are you alright? I have given the withdrawal command, the ewoks are responding. They patrol this area but should not have attacked you.”
Senth nodded as he approached her. “Yes, I am fine. Thank you.”
She inclined her head. “Good. We had better get you back to the keep. The medics can look at you.”
The clone followed up the ramp. “I do not need medics. I need to speak to the Prefect.”

As soon as the shuttle landed Senth walked down the ramp. His armour was dirty and slightly battered, and the back was scorched from the backpack fire. He made a grim sight as he pulled off his helmet and carried it under his arm, walking past the curious troopers at the gate and up the stairs and down the corridor towards the Prefects office. He knocked loudly on the door. “Enter.”
The Prefect was sat behind his desk still. Malisane regarded the clone curiously as he stood to attention and saluted. “I see you have returned Delta-19.”
Senth looked back at him. He felt the increasingly familiar surge of annoyance building to anger now, but once more he fought to control it. “Permission to speak freely, sir?”
A faint smile touched the Battlemaster's lips. “Granted.”
“I followed your orders Prefect, and was ambushed by the Sith ewoks. They seemed to be waiting for me.”
“And you seem to have survived Delta-19.”
Senth looked into the Sith's blue eyes. “Were there any reports of an intruder or probe Prefect?”
“No.” The reply was short and simple.
“You sent me into an ambush, sir.” Senth replied. It was no longer a question.
“Yes I did Delta-19,” Malisane replied calmly, “I sent the ewoks on nearly the same mission as yourself, to find and eliminate an intruder in the jungle, along with your route.”
“Why?” Senth demanded.
“You have no place here Delta-19,” Malisane replied, “you are an agent of the Clan Summit. And you are an anomaly. I have studied enough history. I am aware of the jedi purge, the so called Order 66. I do not know what I have stood in front of me except that it is a weapon forced on me I can neither trust nor control.”
“I am a person as much as you, Prefect,” Senth replied, still struggling against the anger.
“You are a creation,” Malisane replied, “the soldiers out there lead by Major Voss are loyal and the best in our military. They obey orders without question, but they are people. You are no more than the ewoks we created who attacked you out there. Except that when we do not need them they amuse themselves. They hunt, they dance despite our conditioning, and on a clear night you can even hear drumming and singing drifting across the jungle. But I have read the file on your creation and they did not even include that level of humanity, Delta-19.”
“You are wrong Prefect,” Senth replied coldly, “I am learning. And despite how I came into this world I am an officer in the Dlarit Special Operations Group and I am loyal to Clan Naga Sadow.” He felt his anger still but now it was becoming easier to control and focus. “I was sent here to serve you, despite them knowing you did not want me here. I did not pick this assignment and it is clear why I was the last to be assigned. However I am here now though until I am ordered otherwise. And though I have to obey your orders there is nothing in my conditioning or orders that say I have to allow myself to be killed. So do not attempt that again Prefect unless it is for Naga Sadow. As you know my training is extensive.”
Malisane studied him thoughtfully. “Very well then,” he replied, “perhaps there is more to you. I guess we will see. You are dismissed, Captain Senth.”
Senth saluted. “Yes, sir” He turned and left the office.

Inos 13
Orian Space
10 Years later

Lieutenant Colonel Senth of the Orian Warhost stood watching as the members of his Clan boarded the shuttles from the Perdition, as the wounded Pro Consul was stretchered into a medical transport. He look at the immense corpse of the Sigma Queen with a slight shudder, and then up to where more medics were reviving the survivors of his command. Perhaps half of them would not be leaving the moon alive. He sighed. So many had died over the years. He was the last of the thirty four Dlarit Advanced Commandos, created to serve their clan long ago. They had been the first batch and the last, forgotten now by all except the oldest of the Clan. His gaze moved to where two troopers supported the exhausted form of Battlelord Malisane Sadow, the familiar Sith had for years been something between an ally and annoyance to the clone. Beneath his helmet Delta-19 smiled slightly, then followed them into the last shuttle.

Manually added by Master Dacien Victae