**Great Temple

Antei

Antei System**

The 0200-0500 watch was always the worst. Either you’d been up for hours already and

had only caught a wink of sleep or you hadn’t slept at all and were just waiting for the

landscape to become light again. In either case, most men’s brains shut down in these

wee-hours of the morning. This day, the only thing keeping the two soldiers awake was

the stims in their Caf. Their faceplates were kept up so they could bring the hot drink to

their mouths. The exterior of the dark temple was as quiet and serene as possible, though

the sense of foreboding danger never quite dissipated from the hearts of those who

guarded it.

Little action had been seen here since the temple’s recapture at the end of the last Great

Jedi War. The Iron Throne’s forces, augmented by the might of the Foxtrot Uniforms

from each of the Great Clans, had decimated the unexpected Jedi enemy that had

annihilated the Yuuzhan Vong. Both soldiers were veterans of those campaigns. One, tall

and handsome, recalled fighting up the very steps he stood atop, running at a full tilt into

a wall of Jedi Padawan. He followed a Tarenti Elder, providing cover fire until they had

reached the top steps and declared a victory.

“Do you ever feel like we don’t get paid enough?” The tall one looked over at his

partner, who while shorter was far more muscular.

“I can’t say that I get paid anything.”

“Well, you’re an exception. Someone’s gotta pay for that wreck you left in the

shadowlands. I mean the rest of us though. Think about it. I signed a twenty-year contract

with these guys in exchange for housing, food, and enough compensation to keep me

inebriated on shore leave.”

“You almost sound like you’re bragging.” The tall one sipped at his caf as he stared out

into the pre-dawn.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining, just thinking out aloud.”

“Yeah? Well, you should do less of that.”

Again some silence ensued between the two old-hands. The tall one shifted the rifle

on his shoulder to the other side, letting it hang there from the strap. The shorter one

fidgeted some and after a slight hesitation, nodded to his comrade before disappearing

behind a pillar. The trickle of liquid was easily audible in the early morning stillness. A

minute later the man returned and resumed his watch.

“I was just thinking.” The short one said after few minutes of quiet.

“I thought we talked about that already…”

“Yeah, yeah, just listen. It doesn’t take a Jedi to see the way things have been going.”

The tall one looked down at his partner and cocked an eyebrow questioningly, “What?”

“I mean it, you’re no idiot…” The shorter of the two started.

“…I could have told you that.” The short man ignored the interruption and continued

elucidating.

“…you must be able to see it. The Clans are at each other’s throats. So are the

Councilors. Cpl. Praestin says he was on leave last month when he overhead some

Foxtrot Uniform from one of the Clans bragging about his buddy stabbing a Sith from

another while naked before sabotaging their refinery.”

“You’re going to believe that some Foxtrot-gorram-Uniform took his pants off and

stabbed another?”

“I’m not saying I do, not saying I don’t. Fact is though, there are reports out of the

Dajorra System that suggest a massive explosion took place.”

The Tall man remained quiet, finally getting what his partner was hinting at. War. It

had been a few years since they’d last seen major combat and no one was eager to see

it again. Still this was way above their pay grade. He wondered why the guy was so

interested.

“Ok, suppose one of the clans did loose a refinery or something. Why difference does

that make to us?”

“You’re not seeing the big picture though. They all hate each other and tensions are rising

my friend…it’s only a matter of time.”

“Until what exactly?” The tall one didn’t want to think about it. They weren’t paid to

think about it.

“My point is that the Clans are reaching a breaking point. They will lash out at one

another and Darth Ashen will have to come down on them. Guess who will be the

instrument of his righteous fury? Us. I’m not ready to fight against anymore Jedi. I nearly

didn’t make it through the last one.”

“So more money would make that better?”

The short man sized his battle-buddy up with a long, measured stare, “How long you got

left in your contract?”

A little confused, the tall man hesitated before answering, “Twelve years or so… Why?”

“What if I told you that I knew a way out. A way out of this world, out of this life?”

“Desertion!?”

“Of sorts. Let’s just say I was introduced recently to a man who has big plans. He’s

promised to take care of us if we perform some small favors for him when the time

comes.”

Three screeches pierced the night while simultaneous flashes of light emanated from

the Tall man’s weapon. Adrenaline coursed through his veins violently stimulating

every survival instinct in his body to readiness. The short man lay dead on the ground,

clutching his holdout blaster. Taking a moment to ensure the traitor was dead, the Tall

man called in to his superiors.

“This is Spc. Garand Halsey, on watch: South Entrance. I need an immediate response

team to my position, non-critical. Alert the Master-At-Arms, we may have Womp-Rats.”

---

**Location Redacted

Location Redacted

Location Redacted**

“Can you feel it?”

Eiko looked his Aedile in the face, with his own eyes, “I have. War is coming. What

concerns me most however is that despite all our work, the Jedi on New Tython still

exist, and if the latest intel is correct, they’re in negotiations with the traitor.”

James studied his Quaestor’s face, or at least what he could discern through the light scarf

wrapped around it. It was a rare occasion indeed when he saw the Templar without his

mask. Here, in the cantina it would have attracted too much attention so it had been left

behind. The Aedile could see little beneath the scarf leading him to wonder what it was

that the man was hiding.

“I want you to post additional assets in each of the Clan and House Systems,” Eiko

continued, “We have to know what is going on before they do.”

“Agreed. I’ve dispatched Sapharia, Dacien, and Valorian to buff our current assets. I’ll

follow up on that tonight.”

“Good. I’ll begin calling in the favors we’ve earned, see if I can’t secure us some relative

safety from fleet action.”

James stood and downed the remainder of his drink, “Will that be all?”

“Yes. Oh, one more thing: ensure all operatives have reviewed the directives concerning

a Mynock Contingency. If that happens, we’ll enact the Raken Protocol and go to

ground.”

“Yes, My Quaestor.”

---

**Shadow Academy

Lyspair**

The explosion shook the transport hard as it lifted off. A dozen or so Initiates glued

themselves to the windows to watch a ship disintegrate as their own vessel moved off in

the opposite direction towards New Tython.

A lone cloaked figure stared out a window at the carnage that ensued. A sigh escaped

his lips as he lowered his head; disappointed in the loss of such a fine ship and its crew.

Another explosion rocked the transport bringing forth an abrupt intake of breath from the

startled Initiates that shuddered through the vessel in a sudden wave.

The Fallen Spear appeared momentarily as whispers swept through the transport ship

among the Initiates that recognized it before moving evaporating under the power of its

cloaks.

The lone figured moved off to a quiet part of the transport unit and extracted a

communicator from his robes. He typed in a quick message…

---

_Transmission…

Coded message for Loira…

Mission aborted…Lion

Rendezvous at 0800, New Tython…

…Transmission End_

He sent off the message then returned the comm. to his robes. Liu looked briefly at the

Headmaster’s lightsaber he had won before settling in for the trip to New Tython.