Plot Update Three: In the Wake of Time
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**FALL OF ANTEI
In the Wake of Time**
<c>We did this to ourselves. Anakin wasnt evil. He lived in the Order as we all did and ultimately our weakness was his downfall. We created Vader. We made that monster. Palpatine pushed him over the edge, but we led him to it.</c>
The inhabitants of the galaxy are victims. Born into a drama so ancient and blighted that what was a thousand millennia ago stains their existence to this day. There is no escaping it. There is no one to hold responsible. The asocial architects of the present are long dead survived only by their deeds of menace and vice that refuse to know end.
The inheritors of today are forced to ride in the wake of the mighty events their fathers fathers suffered and peer at the horizon in vain hope of a port in the storm. But there is no refuge. There is no lee from the gale of time because the galaxy itself is a storm. In-motion, ceaseless, destructive; it offers no shore except that which can be clung to within oneself.
Infinite in scale, eternal in duration, the galaxy subsides for nothing. Those who die are released. Those who live endure. It is the only way.
**Cifica
Antipose IX, Centrality
9 BBY**
Thirty-eight years ago
They chased him. He ran with impossible speed but they coated the city like a swarm of angry ants on a ruined mound. He was faster than their speeders. Maybe not the swoops, but he felt as though he could outrun them too. Hed feel the burn later; the pain. Now was the adrenaline. Now was the surge. It slipped through his veins like mercury quickening every molecule in his body. Thought ceased to precede action as the two merged into a rhythm kept by the Force.
It wouldnt be enough. Over the years it had always seen him through. It had kept him warm, kept him safe. But the Force offered no defense against the common enemy known as time. The problem with time was that its effects were cumulative. The burden he carried only grew heavier the longer he survived. She had kept him going this long. Only her and nothing else. It would feel good to be at peace, though; to rest finally. Perhaps a small part of him wanted to fail.
To see. And to know.
The first stun-bolt grazed his shoulder and started his tumble. The buildings flanking the skywalk began to slow and come into focus as he tried desperately to right his footing. He thought he had it. He called to the dregs of power in his blood and was elated when answered. His spin halted. He planted a foot solidly into the permacrete and prepared to burst away. He hadnt smiled in years, and didnt now, but pride almost broke his streak anyway.
Decades later he would reflect on this moment and cruelly ponder the what-ifs.
When the second stun-bolt took him just above the heel of his plant-foot the poles of his body violently exchanged positions and the Force in his blood went silent. On his back, motionless, he opened his eyes to see the stars above him looking down in silent deliberation. There were voices behind him. Not far, they spoke in terse sentences punctuated with clicks. Their owners had a name but it escaped him at the moment. His head felt strange and he reached back to probe it with his hand but his arm was reluctant to move.
His hair was thick with blood which required no touch to discern as he could feel it run into his ears and distort the sound of the efficient voices drawing nearer. He was so tired; filthy. He thought he could smell himself but the smoke coming off his robe muddled the scent. Pocked with burn holes, tattered, it bore little resemblance to its original state. Hed lost everything somehow. His weapon, credits, identification, all were gone as if he were being stripped of who he was one piece at a time.
Again.
He tried to rise, but could not. He tried to roll over to face his attackers and failed. He tried to scream but no sound would come. There were only the stars.
Goddamn you, Anakin.
He thought he could feel the planet spin beneath him. He thought he could hear the stars say her name. He coughed and blood stained his lips. She might be watching him. It was possible. He wondered what she would say and closed his eyes.
Its raining, hed said.
I know. She hadnt cared.
Standing there, soaked, laughing, eyes smiling, she reminded him that more than what he thought was possible. More than what he had been taught could be learned. More than what they believed could be true. It was the most powerful feeling he had ever experienced and he had wondered how in the times they inhabited she had come to be? Hed pondered it often. What would she do had she survived?
What do you want to do? the trooper asked his sergeant as he approached the downed target.
Something clicked. He opened his eyes.
What would she have me do?
The sergeant listened to something inside his helmet, nodded, looked to the first, said, Do it.
There was traffic above. Airspeeders rushed home in neat grids of organized chaos. People. Intentions. Hopes. Dreams. Everything. He didnt want to let go. He couldnt do that. It would be like losing her again. Despite the years, despite the fatigue, despite what in him remained from the days of his certainty, he reached out. He reached out to them; not with his hand, but with his will. The will to remember.
The trooper pushing the rifle barrel into his face didnt see it yet. He rotated his selector lever to fire and began the slow draw of the trigger. When the shadow fell across the pavement under his feet he looked back. There wasnt time for anything else. All became white and pain.
What would she have me do?
He would never know.
**Brotherhood-class Super Dreadnought Nightfall
Objective Rally Point Titan, Bilbringi System
Fall of Antei, Day 62**
The green-gray flesh of the villip distorted a moment before resuming the face of the Yuuzhan Vong Priest Volngah. What do they know? it asked.
What I tell them. Nothing, the Dark Lord replied seated before the biot.
Sarin had learned much from the Priest; much about his enemy and much about his own kind. Perhaps more. In return, the Priest had been furnished with a few useful items so that his loyalty to Shimrra remained unquestioned and his true intent remained unknown. Though unreadable to the Dark Lord, Volngahs motives were not as simple as a heretic blindly following his Jeedai saviors. It did not take a Master of the Force to discern that of any being; merely a student of emotion.
Sarin had spent a great deal of time understanding his own emotions which had in turn led him to understanding that which drove others. No matter the species, no matter the culture, somewhere in their fabric was the most basic emotion of all: desire. Everyone wanted something, if even just a glass of water. It was inescapable. Sarin wanted his world back, among other things. It wasnt entirely necessary, but he wanted it.
Two years ago he had miscalculated how easily the Clans would fracture and vie for whatever scraps could be had. Sarin had kept them too lean. Now that hed fattened their bellies with vessels and resources, theyd been reminded of the reasons it was his table at which they sat. That mistake had cost him more than he cared to admitnearly allbut it would not be made again. If anymore reminding became necessary, it would take a much different form. In the meantime, with the Priests help, most were sufficiently distracted chasing their own desires.
The Clans wanted typical things: more power, more influence, more prestige. Volngah wanted something else though. Perhaps a legacy? For all Sarin knew he wanted to be the next Prophet of the heresy. The oracle to the new Jeedai Gods once the True Path had been swept away. It did not matter. He would want something and in exchange for his service Sarin would ensure that through him was the only way to the Priests desire.
But Sarins time was short. What do you have, Priest?
The emulated voice from the villip trilled, corrected itself and responded, We have lost contact with Antei, the villip paused as if to let the words sink into Sarins mind. There has been no word from the garrison nor the fleet in orbit for some time.
Sarin sat deeper into his chair and considered the information. His own intelligence had garnered nothing since their defeat. No probe sent returned telemetry and no agent dispatched was heard from again. Was this a ploy by the Priest? Had he misjudged him? Had Shimrra rooted him out and turned him? Or was it something else?
A withdrawal of Yuuzhan Vong forces from Antei would make sense given the strategic situation pressing Shimrra more with each passing day. Sarin had anticipated that very thing to be the opportunity that would enable their return. Shimrra would sooner or later require those forces where the war would be won or lost. And the war for the galaxy would not be fought at Antei.
But a loss of contact? What did that mean? Sarin needed more information. What was the size of the force occupying Antei?
I do not have that kind of information, my lord. I know only that there is, or was, a force on the surface and in orbit and it has not been heard from for long enough to be of concern to the Warmaster and his commanders.
Will they investigate?
I do not know.
Theorize.
I am no strategist, but from what I understand, things in the Core are coming to a critical juncture. I would be surprised if they had the resources at this time to investigate or reinforce the situation at Antei.
Sarin let the words fade. So much at stake. So many paths to choose. Was this the point at which to risk it? The others must have come to a crossroads like this. In all their lives there had come a juncture where everything would hinge on whether or not to act. Most had failed. If not at first, then ultimately. Every Sith Lord before him had been felled. Each had a vision only partially realized. Palpatine had come the closest. On the shoulders of the giants before him he had nearly realized his vision in every respect.
Though Sarin disagreed with Palpatines aimno one being could rule the galaxyhe could not fault his methods. Therein was the genius of Darth Sidious and the madness. Sarin would need to meditate. There was much to consider. And the Dark Lord knew where his meditations would be best served.
With nothing else to report and no further inquiry, the villip reverted and was silent.
Inform Lord Muz I wish to see him, Sarin said into the air. A soft chime indicated the command was received. Replacing the dark cloth atop the orb, Sarin closed his eyes.
The twinkling points of light beyond the viewports became starlines, rolled madly and disappeared.
**Cotelin-class Star Destroyer Cotelin
Hyperspace
Fall of Antei, Day 73**
Muz Sadow sat alone in darkness. The hangar bay had been emptied of personnel. TIEs hung in their racks above him like sleeping hawk-bats. Standing on the black mirror-steel deck before the Dark Prophet were twenty deactivated Tendrando Arms YVH-2 battle droids. Darkened photoreceptors set deep within their laminanium skulls lent the droids the macabre appearance of the now infamous Yuuzhan Vong.
Head bowed in concentration, the Deputy Grand Master raised his hand to form an arcane Krath symbol with his fingers. In the same instant the formation of battle droids began to hum with power. Twenty sets of blood-red photoreceptors illuminated simultaneously as each droid ran through its start-up routines. When the droids had fully booted and were awaiting instructions Muz raised his other hand to join the first.
Though environmentally controlled and sealed to the vacuum of space by a magcon field, the hangar stirred with an unnatural wind that rose to flush between the TIEs hanging above. Amethyst lightning arced wildly between the droids and gantries overhead. YVHs snapped and jerked as each was touched by the tendrils of energy. Photoreceptors winked and skeletal appendages stretched in spasm as dark power coursed through their circuitry.
Before the maelstrom Muz did not stir. Still seated, the Prophet reacted only by slowly bringing his hands closer together. As the distance between his hands lessened, the storm engulfing the droids and the bay increased in intensity. The droids vocoders began to pop and crack under the strain like synthesized screams as they were further charged with the dark side of the Force. A metallic cacophony rose to the hangar ceiling as the YVHs jerked madly with intensifying fervor.
Hydraulic lines gave way and dark liquid stained the deck. The droid-blood pooled and was pelted by rivets and bolts and other small debris jarred loose from the rite. A few droids could no longer bear the strain and crumpled under the awesome weight of the Prophets will. Those still standing pulsed with energy like nothing they had tasted before. The crescendo of preternatural sound reached its peak as Muz brought his hands together in a clasp that reverberated like a thunderclap throughout the hangar.
Violet arcs of energy danced randomly across the assembled droids whose uniform arrangement had now degraded into a rabble. The droids seemed restless now, skeletal hands flexed absently, torsos heaved as though drawing breath to survive. Their red gazes panned about the bay free now for the first time from endless lines of inhibiting code. Clicks, pops, and hisses had replaced their mute discipline as if they whispered secrets amongst themselves. Servos whirred and whined, coolant dripped, circuits popped, pathways to abilities never intended or imagined had been opened.
With the order normally imposed by their programming burned away they searched the bay for guidance. They sought purpose. Their eyes found the Prophet and they were stilled.
**Uncharted Planet
Corporate Sector, Outer Rim
Fall of Antei, Day 73**
Sarin stood on a world with no name. Few knew of it. It was home to an unfinished monument to the glory of the Emperor Palpatine. It would have been one of the great seats of power in Palpatines Empire had his reign not been ended. The Grand Master of the Dark Brotherhood looked up towards the dizzying heights of the edifice and considered. It looked like nothing so much as a massive throne. Indeed it was; built for a god who had never sat upon it and now never would. It lay dormant. Hundreds of thousands of tons of exquisitely carved black stone that threatened to touch the pink moons in the midnight sky above.
All this for what?
It was the end of summer here. Presaging fall, brisk winds caught Sarins heavy cloak giving them life as he wandered the pavers at the foot of the palace. He stretched out with his senses; not the ethereal array of a Grand Masters, but those given to every man. He could smell wood-smoke in the distance; the fires of indigenes no doubt occupying the surrounding mountains. Whatever civilization had existed here during the Empire was long gone. It had become a simple place in the interim. A place he had found reassuring in times when nothing was assured.
Sarin had come here twice before to learn from the mistakes of those who had preceded him and reflect. Those whose names had survived their deathsseveral times in the cases of somehad many lessons to teach, but none as important as those from their failings. Miscalculations, faults, flaws, weaknesses; all were powerful testaments of that which to avoid. Yet hed failed to heed their teachings himself.
He had lost Antei.
The thought of it struck him anew like the sharp wind racing down the mountainside. He had lost Antei. But from that loss hed gained much. And now, after two years picking up the pieces, the time to correct his greatest mistake could be at hand. He would need to summon them. All of them. The Clans would have many questions borne of fear and ignorance that would test his patience. But they would heed him.
As he walked the vast courtyard at the base of the palace, massive stone effigies of ancient Sith Lords looked down at him in silence. Unlike on Coruscant, Palpatine was able to more comfortably address his arcane lineage in this place. And so they were all here: Simus, Hord, XoXaan, Revan, even the fool Bane. They tended court eternally at the foot of a massive black throne built for their greatest success; and deepest failure.
It was inevitable, Sarin supposed. Those who stood tallest would eventually be brought low. What would his end be? Who was his Chosen One, his betrayer? Or would it take the shape of something else entirely? Whatever its form, there would be an end. There always was.
A tiny electronic voice interrupted his thoughts. Lord Muz is here, Grand Master, it said from somewhere in the deep folds of Sarins robes.
He was pleased; briefly. His security detail had alerted him to the arrival much sooner than hed expected. Raken had trained his soldiers well. Sarin couldnt see them at the moment. They were out there in the inky darkness among the trees and shadows. Black figures, silent and efficient. So unlike what had characterized the Royal Guards of old. Perhaps a new Guard was in the offing? Time would tell. Many things demanded his more immediate attention.
None more so than the Dark Prophet who had come to kill him.
GJW9 Teaser Trailer - WMP-only unfortunately.
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"None more so than the Dark Prophet who had come to kill him."
Wow, just... Wow. Awesome storyline so far Raken. GJW9 ftw! =D
You write so well... and then you can't draw the letter "E" correctly?
Good job, Raken.