Mick Hammer shifted his weight in the command couch, his hands drifting from the scanner console to comms. His mind swam with the creak of bare skin against leather. His contact would be pleased if this was, in fact, what he thought it was. Eyes crossed over the antique wreckage once more as his scanners sent the files across the relay, fingers tapping the encryption channel codes.
His contact had been looking for one of these the entire time he had been working with him. The type was too old to salvage anything useful from, as far as he knew. Certainly Mynocks would have drained the cores thousands of years ago, and opportunistic scavengers would have made off with any of the rarer metals that the guts could have provided. What the man wanted with it was only a passing curiosity to him. He had long since stopped trying to put together what his actual plans were. All that mattered was that he paid well, well enough that he didn’t need to ask questions.
“Solemn Three, this is the Rowdy Toddler.” Mick smiled as he leaned back in his seat, his eyes gliding from the console to the transparisteel,his own reflection bouncing off the barrier between himself and space.
“Toddler, this is Solemn Three. Go ahead.”
“In regard to your hotel reservations…”
———
He nodded at the information as it crossed the terminal. Five thousand years was a long time, but the shape was undeniable. He nodded slowly, black eyes turning from the images to Leena. The Twi’lek gave a quick nod back, then smiled at the hologram. The red-headed human was predisposed, tapping on buttons off-screen for a moment before looking back at her.
“Looks about right.” Leena tilted her head slightly, her left lekku slipping from her shoulder languidly. “There’s an extra ten percent in it for you if you babysit until we get there.”
Mick smiled and nodded. “The baby is well behaved. Not going anywhere, you can count on that.” He half vanished for a moment as he leaned outside the range of the holocorder, appearing again in half-measures as he pulled a shirt on overhead.
“Excellent. The usual payment methods?”
“You know me so very well, sweets.” He smiled at her through the light-years. “Please and thank you.”
“Understood.” Leena glanced to the side at the Lion. “We’ll be home in a day. Solemn Three out.”
The hologram evaporated into blue mist as Muz tapped his arm. The concealed datapad slid open, illuminating his face as he keyed the hidden protocols. Possibility bloomed behind black eyes. Would they be able to reconstruct that wreckage? Was there enough left to get a solid scan? What secrets could be intact after literal millenia in the dust? All questions that would be answered soon enough. But first…
“Consul.” He paused, waiting for the Masked Sith to turn his attention from the raucousness of the Seventh Tooth. “We’ve found one.”
DarkHawk felt a swell of excitement course through him as Lord Keibatsu’s holographic message ended. His long-held anticipation had finally met reality—they had found one. Standing, he turned to Ty, who was still nursing a drink with his usual casual demeanor.
“Ty, Lord Keibatsu is on his way here to Dentavii Prime.” DarkHawk’s voice was calm, but his eyes gleamed with energy. “You recall the intel we received not too long ago, regarding that lead the PCon had from one Rowdy Howler?”
“Of course I bloody’ell remember that. Rowdy Howler, a ship not a bloke. Shall I start cutting you off at three whiskeys?”
The Consul was too consumed over the intel to reply to the aerialist’s comment. “This means one thing—a new mission. And you know what that means—need to rally the Clan.”
Ty raised an eyebrow, the corners of his mouth curling into a sarcastic smile. “Oh, rally the Clan, is it? I’m sure everyone’s just thrilled to put their drinks down for yet another grand adventure.” His tone was as regal and biting as ever.
DarkHawk let the remark slide off him, leaning closer to speak quietly. “Pass the word to Moff Simonetti. Tell him to have the fleet on standby. We may need them sooner than expected.”
Ty’s expression softened, his sarcasm momentarily tempered by the gravity of the request. With a nod, he quickly opened a secure channel, contacting Moff Simonetti aboard the Perdition. The two exchanged words in hushed tones, Simonetti acknowledging the lack of specific details but promising readiness.
Meanwhile, DarkHawk turned his attention to the members of Clan Naga Sadow scattered around the Seventh Tooth bar. Raising his voice, he addressed the room. “Sadowans, heads up We’ve have a new mission coming. This Intel is solid, and Lord Keibatsu is on his way. We’ll move out soon, but for now, get ready and stay sharp. Details will come as they do. Prepare for the unknown.”
The bar quieted, anticipation settling over the gathered Sadowans like a storm cloud. The Clan was ready.
Malisane watched the Consul talking to the pack of Clan members gathered around him. He did not need to hear the details, he was happy to get a basic briefing and told what was required of him. He seldom offered opinions or guidance anymore unless asked. He turned as Nova the gammorean waitress handed him a glass of water.
Her gaze also took in the Clan members and she grunted in an enquring tone.“Not for several months now as far as I am aware,” he replied.
He listened to her next question and quietly replied. “I do not imagine they are in any hurry to. Aeotheran is pleasant enough but if you have never visited Sepros or Tarthos I would not recommend the cost of the flight to either.”
As Nova grunted in agreement and walked away, the dimunitive figure of the noghri approached the bar. He glanced up at Malisane. “Jedi,” he said simply.
Malisane studied the mercenary. For all his mistrust of Sarthis, the noghri was occasionally a useful source of information. “What have you heard?”
Sarthis looked towards where DarkHawk was stood with his pilot, and then back at the Sith . “Your leaders are planning a mission.”
“And?” Malisane asked.
“Your other leader is on his way here.”
Malisane felt a brief surge of anger as the noghri looked up at him passively, no hint of humour in his grey features. “Whatever my Clan pays you for your deductive ability is clearly money well spent.”
The Archpriest stood at the bar, sipping an amber-colored whiskey with a rather strong kick, as he waited for the former Grand Master to join them for the mission briefing. Quentin was rather excited, to say the least; a clan mission was just what the Quaestor of Shar Dakhan needed to get a break from his duties on Aetheran. Looking about the room, he noticed Malisane speaking to a smaller creature and also Darkhawk raising his glass toward him, bowing his head slightly as a sign of respect to the head of his clan. Pulling out a small data pad, he looked over the ship he had just acquired, making sure it was in good order in case the mission would require its use.
Jinx walked into the Seventh tooth bar where her master had ordered her to meet him, the smell of smoke and liquor filled the air with the noise of its patrons chatting. Her black robes with red detailing flowed behind her as she walked through the crowd. Her little droid Lola hovering over her shoulder. Jinx scans the area with her stormy blue almost gray eyes; she spots her master at the bar with what appears to be a whiskey of some sorts in front of him, she also notices a few other clan members in various places around the bar doing their own thing. She walks up to her master at the bar taking a seat next to him, Lola leaves her shoulder, its legs folding out to stand on the counter instead of hovering. “Master, I have come as ordered, how may I be of service?” Jinx asked her master and she softly rubbed at Lola’s head.
The archpriest motioned to the bartender to get his apprentice the same drink, “Sip it to blend in, we are not here to party” He tells his apprentice before continuing. “There is word that the clan will launch a mission soon. We will go because it will provide some good training for you and the possibility to gain some reputation within the clan for your service.” Finishing informing his apprentice as to why they were there he turns to the little droid on the bar “ I hope you have been keeping her out of trouble.” he tells the little droid with a grin. The little droid begins to chirp and beep replying.
Hades caught DarkHawk’s eye as he moved to within five feet of the Consul. DarkHawk nodded with just a hint of a smile.
“It’s time?” Hades asked, hopeful.
“It is. Moff Simonetti is issuing orders for the Task Force Alpha to form immediately near our location. Will this be sufficient for our needs, Fleet Admiral?” DarkHawk gave his full attention the Sith standing in front of him. The old Imperial gave a confidant grin, which spoke for itself.
“Very well. The Proconsul is on his way. Once the briefing is finished we will ready our Task Force to leave. Make sure your ships are ready. This will be a glorious day to remember, my friend.” Hades, wearing his Imperial Grey uniform with a Command Cloak draped over his shoulders, pulled out his datapad to confirm the fleet orders being issued by Moff Simonetti.
Task Force Alpha consists of:
Light of Orian, Lion’s Ascent, Insurgent, Bloodline, Xerberus, Stalker, Wrath, and the Hyperion. With the Percheron, Blood Moon, and *Fenris*as backup, just in case more firepower is needed. Each ship selected from the Warhost Fleet in an earlier meeting weeks beforehand. A Battalion of Drop Troopers are also currently being deployed to the Light of Orian to help the clan in this endeavor. The Summit’s long held hope of this plan becoming a reality has finally materialized. The greying Imperial looked out at the other members of the clan. The eagerness at which he awaiting the Summit’s briefing was surprising, even to himself.
*This should be fun. *
Darkhawk spied the Twi'lek first. The purple skinned slicer flashed an identichip to Case as she stepped through, the robed Hekate a half step behind her. Her eyes darted about the room, sliding across the various members of the clan. A clan, Darkhawk mused silently, that she had thus far refused to join, despite his overtures. She claimed that the Ancient Empire had no need for her, and her allegiance was to the Lion himself. Perhaps after a few more excursions, she might see their Power and change her mind. She nodded in his direction, acknowledgement brightening her face for a moment.
Then he entered. No pomp or circumstance, no musical interludes, but they all felt his presence none the less. The Lord of the Krath. The Lion of Tarthos. He had no need or desire to muffle his force imprint, the weaves swirling like the tides around him. Ancient runes seemed to glow across fine lines in the cuirass of his armor as he stepped through shadow and neon glow. He didn’t break stride as he let black eyes take stock of the Seventh Tooth, spying the Consul and Fleet Admiral, plotting his steps toward them, past elder, archpriest, and acolyte alike.
Finally coming to a stop in the midst of his clan’s elite, he gestured at Leena, who immediately activated the holoprojector array. The blue haze of the universe beset their eyes before it scaled in, racing toward Wild Space, the edges of commonly mapped areas. A lonely moon, lazily circling a gas giant bloomed before them. “This is our target.” Leena’s voice crackled for a second before finding her voice. “Advance scouts have found a wreckage that we have been seeking for several years now.”
Thoughts and mysteries erupted in low murmurs from some, and waggled behind the eyes of others. Wreckages, ruins, tombs and tribulations. The Clan had seen their share of many of those, so what was this one about? The silent question seemed to echo across many hearts.
“This ship was from the Golden Age.” Muz spoke, gravelly tones echoeing through their ears and their minds, the man always seemed to forget that he was telepathically transmitting. “A Harrower.”
Those who knew what that was gave a moment of pause. The bulwark of the original Sith Empre. Forked destroyers that had all but conquered the Galaxy under the banner of the Sith back in the days of Vitiate, they were a bastion of fear for those who had to face them. There hadn’t been one found in millennia. And yet…
“It seems to be in pretty rough shape, if our initial scans are correct.” Leena continued with the briefing. “We’re guessing pretty picked over and scavenged, given it’s been rusting there for at least five thousand years. But…” She paused for effect, making sure the hologram adjusted to the thermal scans that Mick had sent them. “We have heat signatures down there. There’s no atmo on that rock, and no other ships down there. Which means there’s at least two reasons to go down there.”
“Those being?” A voice seemed to come from the crowd, stinted and quiet to the point of unidentifiable. A few people turned to seek the source, but turned back as Muz spake again.
“To scan the Harrower.” Muz nodded at the holo as it shifted a segment to show the inventory of hovering scan droids that they had used on Yavin IV to scan every stone, nook and cranny of Naga Sadow’s original temple. Their namesake’s mysteries from all those many years ago were reproduced in fine detail on Sepros, the depths of which still eluded them.
“And to take back what is Sadow’s.”
The Archpriest eyes grew larger barely able to contain his excitement “ A golden age Sith ship now that is something to investigate” he whispered to his apprentice “ We maybe even find some old Krath scrolls, or artifacts, maybe even some old Krath magic grimoire if we are lucky” he finished saying to her as he paid very close attention to the Lord of the Krath speak.
Tasha'vel’s eyes fell on the holographic image of Darkhawk calling the clan to action.“Really? And here I was hoping I could just have a few moments to myself.” She tapped the respond button. “Tasha'Vel here, Vance and I will be there to assist shortly, Tasha out.” She closed the communication as she turned to the long eared pink Sephi. “Vance, lock and load, we have a mission. Let’s go.” Vance nodded to the Sith Twi'lek as he followed her to the ship. “Aye, will get you there quickly Lady.” Vance punched the coordinates as they made their way to the destination placed.
He walked through the halls of the Dentavii base.
How long has it been? We fought The Dominion, we liberated the surface, we brought away the Shard. So much victory, so many memories, and so many triumphs. And yet, what have we to show?
He paused before the entrance of the bar. He had been here before as well. He had heard the current Overlord’s call. He had heeded it, for he was as much as claimant as the man in the big chair himself to their fruits. Once Takagari had been his second. He could not deny him his support.
As he walked in, he heard the words from the Lion of Tarthos ringing in his head.
This is a ship from a golden age.
He listened to the rest of the presentation in rapt silence. While Muz’s last words hung in the air, he could only smile at Quentin’s remark.
“I guess this is as good a time as any to come out of retirement.” He shrugged, looking across the assembled. “I didn’t have anything else to do this weekend, so let’s go get us some Old Sith treasures. For the glory of Sadow!”
Malisane considered the words of the Pro Consul, and then reached into his envoy satchel for his datapad. He turned it on and selected the Collegium site. He briefly regretted never having done the Capital Ship Studies course back at the academy but it had never been a subject of great interest to him. He waited while the site loaded and clicked through the menus until he found what he was looking for. He stood silently sipping his water as he watched the text and images scroll up the screen. Finally he admitted that despite being ancient it was impressive enough even by modern standards. He went back to the main menu and accessed the management account for the bar, making a few changes.
He looked up as on cue the gammorean waitress appeared. “Nova I will be away for some time. I am leaving you in charge again. Put what you learned on that retail management course to good use. Tell that tribute band they can do one night a week for a month, and we will see after that if they bring people in. Lieutenant Dagen will be back from Aeotheran in two days and will assist you.” She grunted in more enthusiastic tones than usual and walked away.
The Adept turned and noticed the former Consul enter the bar. Malisane walked over to him and gave brief nod. “Greetings Tribune. Enjoy the facilities before we leave. Do not worry about the bill it will be charged directly to your account at the end of the week.”
Back in the hangar Sarthis was once more arguing with the tech in charge. “I need my ship as soon as possible. The ruler of your system told you to prioritise it. What is the problem?”
The man in overalls looked down at the nogrhi and shrugged. “Unless the ruler of the system can magic outdated ship parts across fifty light years that doesn’t mean much. Your ship is a heap of junk you’re lucky you got here in one piece. Either you wait until we get the parts or you trade it for scrap and buy something that will leave the hangar.”
Sarthis glowered at the man through his one good eye, and then stalked away pulling his cloak around him. He wished to join the mission but did not want to get stuck on some capital ship. Past experience made him uncomfortable around the military. He needed another option.
He didn’t explain any further. Most of them knew their roles well enough by now. Muz turned on his heel, heading for his ship. The invitation to ride along on his ‘Fallen Spear’ was all but assumed at this point. Naturally, Hades would provide cover via Task Force Alpha from any who would dare to intervene, while others would simply meet him at the wreckage coordinates. Leena fell in behind him, the holoprojector sliding off the bar and into one of the pockets at her vest.
The sound of blades echoed in his ears, portents of the future rising as an emotional tide of destiny with each step toward their prize. He paused in a step, glancing back at the accumulated Sadowans, some starting to follow him, some accumulating around the Consul. He thought to smile, but then thought better of it. Mirth was best saved for when victory was in hand.
With management of the bar organised, Malisane saw no point in remaining much longer. He had no desire to engage in conversation. He walked outside into the main corridor and headed down to the docking bay. He made his way past the technitions and headed towards the Lancer Patrol Craft and and keyed a code into the panel on the side, waiting until the ramp had lowered before quickly boarding. Then he cursed and walked back down the ramp, his eyes searching. Finally seeing a black shape lurking in the shadows between some crates on the other side. he shouted. “Zero, get on board or stay here!” There was deep tone echoing across the chamber as the black astromech lit up and began to wheel across the area.
He sat down in the cockpit, talking the pilots chair for the first time in several months. With Lieutenant Dagen on business on Aeotheran, he would fly himself. He addressed the ships computer. “Zen, reconfigure the pilot assists for my specifications.” He waited and then checked the settings to ensure they were to his satisfaction. He heard a close booming tone next to him that indicated the arrival of the astromech and he pressed the button to raise the ramp.
The Deathshead rose from the hangar deck under his control and smoothly left the hangar and out into space. He looked at the scanner and then guided the craft out towards the blips of the waiting fleet, recognising the familiar Victory Class and flying towards it, before engaging autopilot off it’s port bow. He was sure there would be some time before the fleet was due to depart.
He sat back in his seat and began to reach out to the force, preparing to meditate. Then he sensed something odd. Standing he slowly walked into the corridor, waving the astromech to remain still. He gripped his saber in his hand as he made his way forward, then as he reached the turn off to the lounge area he stepped forward, his azure saber igniting as he swung. There was a clash as it met beskar, and he looked down in fury at the noghri.
“What the hell are you doing on my ship?” he demanded, his blade still touching the other weapon.
“My own is unavailable,” Sarthis replied calmly.
“Well you can leave,” Malisane replied, “one of the Clan’s fleet will detect your escape pod and bring you on board.”
The noghri met his gaze, “Do not be unreasonable Jedi,” he replied, “I take up little space and eat less.”
The Sith looked down at him, and then finally deactivated the blade. “Stay out of my way and stay out of mine and the lieutenant’s quarters. And stop calling me Jedi.”
DarkHawk’s gaze swept over the Clan, a sense of destiny settling on him as Muz’s telepathic briefing continued to play in his mind, still echoing. The discovery of a Harrower from the Golden Age—the bastion of the old Sith Empire—was nothing short of monumental. He turned and faced his Duros pilot and spoke with an authority that didn’t waver.
“Ty, have Ellee get the ship ready. We’ll follow the Spear in the Reaver. Keep Task Force Alpha in your sight,” DarkHawk instructed, purpose sharpening each word. “Once we reach the coordinates, assist in securing the perimeter until we board. When we’re inside, your systems knowledge will be more than useful for bringing her online.”
Ty’s response came after a beat, his refined tone laced with his characteristic snark. “But of course, my lord,” he replied, the irony dancing in his voice. “I shall endeavor to grace Task Force Alpha with my presence in the Reaver’s command seat. They shall undoubtedly feel honored.”
DarkHawk smirked. Ty’s attitude had been an acquired taste, yet somehow, the assassin found comfort in the officer’s dry wit. It grounded him—a reminder that not everyone had to yield to the brutal seriousness this mission demanded. DarkHawk also took advantage of knowing the depths of Ty’s infatuation with capital ships. The seasoned pilot would relish in the opportunity to bring this beauty back to life.
As they made their way to the hangar, the rhythmic thud of their boots echoed in time with DarkHawk’s building anticipation. The Harrower—such an ancient relic—and the possibility of what they might recover held his thoughts captive. Rarely did opportunities as promising as this surface, and he was determined not to let it slip through his fingers.
The sight of the blacked-out Fury-class Interceptor known as the Reaver brought an added thrill to him, a familiar touchpoint in his many missions. As they approached, Ellee, the ship’s custom pilot droid, extended her voice with a touch of haughty disapproval.
“Ah, yet another organic-fueled endeavor,” she chirped, her tone barely concealing her condescension. “Very well, I will oversee this mission’s flight logistics—though I can only wonder if you organics are truly fit for the complexity involved.”
Ty rolled his eyes. “You may remind yourself, lass, that we still prefer a touch of organic ‘complexity’ in our operations. Call it… added flavor.”
DarkHawk hid his smile. With Ty’ helming the Reaver and Ellee tapping away at her copilot’s control panel , he knew the mission was off to a promising start. As he stepped onto the ship, the thrill of unearthing a piece of Sith history coursed through him—a mission that, in every way, was beginning to show a high level of promise.
The Archpriest followed behind the Lion of Tarthos to his ship, His apprentice followed close to her master. “This ship is an important discovery apprentice, but be on your guard we know not what dangers we are walking into, or if this is a trap a ship like this would definitely gain the attention of the dark jedi brotherhood as you can see, it could have been placed for just that, for we have many enemies!.” Quentin tells her as he sees her little Lola droid floating over her shoulder but it was paying very close attention to what he was saying. She nodded to him as she said “Yes, my master”.
As Malisane left, Bentre considered the situation further. He could call his former apprentice, assuming she was available. He had contacts within the Sadowans number he could call upon. He was but a man. The Recalcitrant was moored to Denatavii Station. Stahoes clicked the commlink on.
“Hex,” he spoke firmly, “Please prepare the deck for departure. I will provide the itinerary as soon as I am on board.” The commlink burred and chirped in response. He smiled. “No, I am sure you are more than capable of handling it all. I just wasn’t sure that telling you to ‘follow that ship’ would be any more satisfying.” A cascade of irritated droidspeak trilled out in reply. “Love you too, Hex. See you on board.”
He started to walk back to his ship. He had a feeling that this was going to be a thrilling venture. Something deep in the Force seemed to ripple with the ebb and flow of the assembled Sadowans’ presence in the Force.
Conquest is our destiny; we shall not fail.
The comms filtered between the accumulated ships as they maneuvered away from the Dentavii station. They slowly aligned in the same direction, drifting together like a school of fish, the coordinates seeping from the command hub to their navcomputers. Calculations chewed energy and plotted the courses, juking gravity wells, planetary bodies. Their hums subsided, awaiting the final command.
The consul stood, arms crossed aboard his Reaver, the Duros pilot opening the comms channel to the prescribed frequency, a static echo across the other clan member’s ships and the ships of the strike force. Darkhawk allowed his lip to curl in a smile of what was to come.
“Mark.”
The dull throb of entering hyperspace pulsed in their ears, rattling their teeth and making their eyes water. Slipping between aspects of reality were commonplace and yet still so alien as to cause reactions. Each of the ships elongated in blurs of light as they joined the Reaver in the blue miasma of hyperspace. It would not be long now, not compared to how long they had waited. Not long at all.
Hours later, claxons sounded, and the swirl of hyperspace faded to the blanket of void once again. A few large asteroids drifted before them, perhaps once parts of a planet long since destroyed. A lonely Gthroc freighter sidled closer to the Lion’s Fallen Spear as the rest of them let their eyes adjust to the change, eyes scraping the surface of the asteroids.
And there it was. The dull grey hidden by millennia of dust and rust, the forked bow unmistakable despite the damage.
It was historic.
It was glorious.
And soon, it would be theirs.
Quentin’s mind raced as he looked out the view port seeing the forgotten ancient ship that had been at rest for centuries, “You are no longer lost friend what treasures of the past do you hold ” he says to himself as his eyes scan the hull looking how bad the damage may be that could have made it disappear or just from being battered in space by asteroid’s for all the years it was missing alone in the vastness of space.
Here we go. Hades thought to himself. Standing on the bridge of the VSD Light of Orian the flagship of Task Force Alpha he turned to look at his sensor operator.
“Negative contacts, Sir.” came the quick answer to the unspoken question.
“Understood. Comms!” turning towards his Comm officer he stepped closer to the operations pit.
“Give the word for our force to assume combat cover for the operation. Formation Baker.” The young communication officer began to relay Hades’ orders as he returned to the viewport. Looking down her flipped an internal communication switch that broadcast his voice to the entire ship.
“Sadowans, we have arrived. The Task Force is assuming a protective formation. Troopers and Sadowans to the Assault Transports! ATRs departing in 5 minutes!” Hades flipped the switch back before nodding to himself. His VSD will assume top cover over the asteroid where the Harrower crashed. The Lion’s Ascent will assume a position directly under the asteroid. The rest of the escorting ships will array themselves in an even circle surrounding the large rocky body as the Lancer-class frigate hangs close to the VSD.
“OPS. Launch our TIE Advanced squadron and order the Lion’s Ascent to do the same. Have the rest of the squadrons on ready stand-by, just in case.”
“Aye, Sir.”
With the fleet in position, he opened his personal comm unit to the Consul. “All ships are in position and our Combat Patrol is set, Sir. The floor is yours, Consul.”
Sarthis lay relaxing and listening to music on the top left hand bunk of the compact passenger cabin, which would have been tight if occupied by another three passengers but were more than adequate for just himself. He had spent the time aboard the Dark Jedi’s craft largely on his own, once he had established a synronicity with the force user around bathroom and meal breaks they had avoided each other. He noticed that the assassin astromech Zero had been left to guard the empty cockpit as Zen the ship’s computer followed the course of the Victory class and its escorts and the droid had made a threatening boom whenever the noghri had approached.
As the view through the small porthole showed they had returned to normal space the mercenary effortlessly dropped down and left the cabin grabbing his weapon belt and cloak He passed the empty bathroom and the copilots cabin and the corridor the the cockpit and the guarding droid. Looking in to the galley and lounge he noticed they were both also empty and out of curiousity he made his way into the dark cargo area, past the parked speeder and the few crates to a room at the end. He paused as he heard the force user speaking quietly and cautiously approached a small room at the other end. The door was open and he listened to the force user talking to himself.
“….belongs to Naga Sadow, Wherever it says to go, I will go, Whatever it says to defend, I will defend, Whomever it says to kill, I will kill, When it says I must die, I will die.”
Sarthis listened to the words in fascination, the inference touching the curious noghri. He had his own code of personal ethics, particularly around choosing who to work for and the nature of the contract, but nothing like this. He had heard of nothing like the oath in his time among the members of the Clan in whose employ he was temporarily. They had always seemed self serving and focused on their own aims if occasionally coming together for mutual benefit. He would consider this.
Sarthis backed off as the force user left the room, cloaked with his hood pulled over his head and his weapons at his belt. The Adept noticed the mercenary and his face turned. “Do you require something?”
“Not at all,” Sarthis responded quietly, “we seem to have reached our destination.”
“Indeed,” Malisane replied, “we are to dock at the Light of Orian and make our way to assault shuttles. Collect whatever you have on board and wait at the entrance. You will not be returning here.”
Sarthis nodded, “As you wish.”
DarkHawk stood on the bridge of the Reaver, his eyes fixed intently on the Harrower drifting in the void before him. The sight filled him with a restless excitement, a mix of anticipation and tension swirling within. His mind churned with plans and contingencies. Breaking his focus only slightly, he addressed Ty, his voice carrying a blend of command and caution.
“Ty, contact the task force. Have them start running scans on the Harrower for any signs of life. I want nose to tail scans before we board,” DarkHawk ordered.
Ty looked back at him, a skeptical expression across his long face. “Do you truly believe anything could have survived aboard that bloody ship all this time?”
DarkHawk continued to stare at the looming derelict vessel. “I don’t want the Warhost walking into something they aren’t prepared for. If by chance something is still in there, they’re not going to be too thrilled about having to find a new home. Today is eviction day, and there’s no room for leniency.”
Nodding, Ty called over to the task force, relaying the Consul’s orders with swift efficiency. DarkHawk watched as his instructions rippled out, a focused intensity settling across the team. His gaze then shifted to Ellee, who was poised in her copilot’s seat clearly awaiting her own set of directives.
“Ellee, once Ty and I head over with the boarding party, you’ll take control of the Reaver,” he informed her, his tone steely. “Your job is to maintain the ship, cover our sixes, and support the task force. Nothing else.”
Predictably, Ellee tried to interject, her usual droid superiority complex already leaking through. “Sir, I must insist that—”
“Not one beep out of you clankers!” DarkHawk snapped, cutting her off. “Not one single beep! You’ll do what you’re ordered to do, and you’ll like it, or I swear you’ll end up as a pile of spare parts before this mission is over.”
Ellee paused, then let out a disgruntled sigh, her optics narrowing as she gave him a one-fingered salute, a reluctant acceptance of her new orders.
“Ty, tell one of the ATRs to dock with us for pick-up,” DarkHawk continued, a sharp edge in his tone. “Then give me an open comm to the task force.” A moment later, his voice cut through the fleet’s comm channels. “Task Force Alpha, this is Sepros One. Maintain a perimeter around our target. SITREPS every fifteen. Combat patrols, you’re weapons-free—I repeat, weapons-free. If it’s not sporting our colors, you engage with extreme prejudice. Once we get on board we clear her out of any threats and get a status update on her ASAP. By the numbers Sadowans, let’s claim our prize.”
With satisfaction, he watched the task force array itself, the TIE squadrons falling into their patrol routes with clockwork precision, their disciplined movements underscoring the gravity of the mission. The Harrower awaited, and DarkHawk knew this was only the beginning.
As the Deathshead prepared to dock with the Light of Orian, Malisane stood near the entrance, facing down the black astromech droid. “You are not coming on the mission. The last thing we need is you blasting away with heavy weapons on a derelict vessel. While i am away you will clean the ship and change the bedding in the guest quarters.”
There was a defiant boom from the droid as its lights flashed on and off. The Adept looked down at it in annoyance. “We have spoken before regarding your disobedience. I think you need some time to reflect.” Concentrating, he raised a hand and Zero rose into the air, making further loud defiant noises. Keeping an invisible grip on the droid to keep it’s weapon compartments closed, Malisane moved forward down the corridor, ignoring the sounds. Finally he turned left before the cockpit into the escape pods and he dropped the droid unceremoniously into one, before hitting the button. “You will be found and collected later.” He watched as it closed and the sound of the droids complaints was silenced. Then with a burst of air the escape pod launched into space, quickly becoming a dot. He turned to see the noghri watching him quietly, then walked forward and pushed past heading back for the exit.
A few minutes later the lancer landed smoothly on the deck of the Victory class destroyer and the Adept walked down the ramp, followed by the noghri. Both looked around to see anyone they recognised. Behind them there was a roar as the Deathshead powered up under computer control, turned smoothly and left the hangar, to take its place shadowing the fleet.
“I think the assault transports are over there Je..Adept,” the nogrhi announced pointing to the far side of the hangar where techs poured over the squat crafts, making final checks. Malisane nodded and the two walked over.
The transports spun as maneuvering rockets tilted them away from the Strike Force and toward the wreckage. The dull roar of engines replaced the hisses, and they drew closer yet, the image of ruined hull and ancient dust growing larger in their viewscreens, in their eyes. Minds reached out, feeling along the threads of the universe, trying to read the next chapter of the book before it was written. Reality seemed to chuckle at their attempts, the mystery remaining intact as the transports maneuvered along the length of the hull, angling smoothly in order to land inside the ancient ship’s hangar.
A few fingertaps later, the hiss of landing gear filled their ears as the pilot checked the atmosphere outside to determine if it was safe enough or not. Eyes furtively glanced around, equal parts anxiety and anticipation swelling as the transports settled to the deck. A crate of sensor drones was pulled from the cargo area, the datapad on top starting their boot sequence as the Sadowans readied themselves for whatever might await them.
Finally, it was time. The ramps extended, the doors sliding open, letting the stale air of the wreckage flow across their faces, the darkness beyond the transport’s lights seeming to swirl with the dust kicked up by their landing.
DarkHawk took a deep breath as the Harrower’s stale scent washed across his face. The decay of millennia lingered in the air, thick and oppressive, but he welcomed it. The weight of the past was a familiar burden, a reminder of the legacy they sought to reclaim—or conquer.
He turned his gaze to Lord Keibatsu, who stood poised at the threshold of the ancient vessel. “Lord Keibatsu,” DarkHawk said, his voice steady but tinged with excitement, “I cannot believe we found this beast. She will make a fine addition to the fleet.” Without waiting for a response, he donned his helm, the hiss of seals locking into place echoing through the transport.
A faint glint of jubilation crossed the Grand Master’s dark eyes. He nodded in agreement, his own anticipation barely concealed. The Sadowans were no strangers to danger, but this venture carried the weight of untold secrets and power.
One of the Warhost officers stepped forward, datapad in hand, his face illuminated by its glow. “Probes are still scanning, sir,” the officer reported. “No signs of life forms detected—yet.”
DarkHawk activated his comlink, his voice sharp and authoritative. “Sadowans, we have a green light. Scans are still ongoing. Team leaders, SITREPS every five mike. We’re going into the unknown—weapons hot and cover each other’s six. Priority is clear every level, bow to stern. Establish entry control points at every level. Secondary is systems check. Treat her with care; we’ve got one shot. Team leaders, you have your marching orders, again by the numbers and everyone comes home.”
With a nod to Lord Keibatsu, DarkHawk gestured forward and with a slight bow. “My Liege, the honor is yours.” A devilish grin spread across the Krath’s lips as he stepped into the shadowy depths of the Harrower. Dust swirled around him like specters welcoming their new companions.
“Harrower, that’s gonna make a really nice addition.” Vance replied. Tashavel turned to the pink Sephi looking out a window as they landed. Donning their gear, the blue Twi'lek smiled as she stepped forward into the dark bows of the Harrower. “Well I am in good company.” Vance replied following after her. “Least with that lightsaber of yours, I should be able to find you easily.” The inside air was stale with a quiet deathly silence. Seemed that it hadn’t been disturbed in quite a long time. Igniting her blade with a crackling snap-hiss, violet light illuminated the pathway. Vance meanwhile had pulled out the scanner and began to search about alongside his companion. “Whew,” He sniffed the air. “This place is a little musty and feels like a ghost town.” Tasha'vel put a hand out halting Vance. “What is it?” She turned and gave him a look. “Vance we are walking into an unknown place and you are currently running your mouth so much that if there were something right this moment they could hear us. So I suggest you stay silent unless we are reporting to command, got it?” Vance quickly zipped his lips and started to scan quietly. The Marauder grinned as she continued to search the place.
Hades sipped the steaming cup of caf as he monitored the displays of both crew pits. The task force was arrayed in a perfect position to give the ground teams optimal cover. So far, so good. “Sir, ground teams are inside. All is normal, though air is a bit stale.” And there it is. Hades tilted his head and slowly turned to the assistant communication officer who spoke. “I’m sorry. Did you say the air is stale?” Asked Hades, just as slowly. “Uh, yes sir. Those are the reports I am receiving.” Hades made his way to the rear of the bridge and brought out his personal comm unit and opened a direct comm line to Consul DarkHawk.” “Speak.” DarkHawk ordered. “Sir, I am getting reports that the air is stale. Is that correct, Sir?” Hades could almost sense the annoyance DarkHawk was feeling miles away. “Yes, Admiral…” The latter seething with shallow contempt at being asked such a question. “It is thousands of years old after all.” The Consul continued. “Yes, sir. It crashed thousands of years ago. We are not reading a power source.” Hades carefully responded. “And?” DarkHawk snapped. “And, Sir, there shouldn’t be air in it at all. Not after all this time and with the crash rupturing some bulkheads. Something, or someone, has been there since it’s crash. Sir, they might still be there. We might not be the only ones who knows about this crash site.” There was a long pause before the Consul spoke. “Understood. Thank you, Fleet Admiral.” Replied DarkHawk before terminating the channel. Returning to the middle of the bridge Hades brought himself up to full height and bellowed. “Ops! Call the Task Force to General Quarters!” Ordered Hades. He turned to communications as the claxons started to sound throughout the ship.
“Comm! Order the ATRs to combat footing. I want all of our embarked Battalion of Stormtroopers on that hulk in the next fifteen minutes!” The replies came rapidly. The bridge suddenly a flurry of activity as each officer focused on their duties just as they have been trained. He was proud of his crew, and proud to have chosen this ship as his flagship. Hades returned to the viewport at the front of the bridge. The Harrower was out of sight, below his ship. He looked out at the stars beyond, options and plans of action running through his head for many possible outcomes. “Comm, signal our reserve force to meet us here at once.” Hades ordered. What came next was not expected. “Sir. I have been unable to reach them since we arrived. Unknown reason, Sir.” Replied the communications officer. Not now.
Malisane walked out into the ruined ship, seeing the figures of the twi'lek Adept and the mercenary Vance nearby, both searching the area. He looked around curiously. The ship seemed stable but he had no way of knowing for sure the entire place could collapse and throw them out into space or explode if interferred with as far as he knew. This was not his area of specialisaiton had they been in a ruined building he would have had more of an idea. He heard a slight noise behind him and turned to see the noghri mercenary leave the craft, removing a device from under his cloak and pulling out a two wires, slipping them under this hood.
Not noticing the sith’s scrutiny, Sarthis secured the ear pieces of the scanner and pressed a few buttons on the display, configuring it and letting it scan the area. It sensed nothing except the landing party and he glanced around at the heavy bulkheads surrounding them. The signal might be restricted there. He glanced up at the Sith “I am going to scout the nearby area. Do not follow me Adept. After the last time, I have no wish to be dragged into a pitched battle to the death against overwhelming odds because you lack stealth or self control.”
“Do as you wish,” the Sith replied quietly. He watched as the small grey figure set off into the near darkness, then walked over to the twi'lek Adept and her companion.
As Vance scanned around the area, he came across some dried blood and tracks from some kind of clawed beast dragging their prey up the hangar. He frowned, the blood and tracks looked far more recent than ancient. He signaled to Tasha with his left hand, waiting for her to come over. “Thought I smelled blood.” She whispered. “Let’s report this for now, but be on guard.” Tasha'vel looked over to see Malisane approaching. “We may have something.” She said quietly to the Sith. “Vance found some tracks and blood from some creature’s kill going up the hangar. I already suggested to my companion here to stay alert. Not sure what beast this might be, but it definitely has claws.”
Quentin moved silently, with only his apprentice close, as they explored the ancient ship. He was amazed that its life support systems were still active, even if the air was extremely stale. “This ship has seen a lot in its time, but I have a bad feeling. So be alert, apprentice,” he told Jinx as they looked around, remaining vigilant.
Sarthis was making a similar discovery and it intrigued him. As he examined the blood and the tracks he took out his datapad and took a few pictures for future study. He looked back at where the heavy set and scarred jedi stood talking with the twi'lek female and he could just hear their conversation. He considered his options. It was not certain there was still a threat in the area, but it seemed highly likely. If there was something or things out there it was highly likely they would be alerted by a half dozen force users and a platoon of armoured marines stomping about. He paused a few seconds. He was not been paid for dangerous creature hunting, and there was no time to renegotiate the additional fee with the Sadowan leaders. However curiousity got the better of him. With a final glance back at the conversing force users, he studied the direction the tracks lead in and followed, his footsteps practically silent.
Oddly, Malisane was having similar ideas. “We should follow and investigate,” he said quietly to his fellow Maurader. His gaze took in the mercenary Vance and the Dakhan Quaestor and his apprentice. “A small group of us will move more quickly than a larger one, with less risk of discovery. What are your thoughts Adept?”
“Read my mind Malisane.” Smiling, she gave the man a nod. “A smaller group is far less noisy and quicker than a whole platoon."She turned to Vance. "Stay with Malisane’s apprentice and continue to scan the surrounding area as we move silently. Malisane and I will be watching for hostility. Should something come, have your rifle in hand. Always expect the unexpected in an unfamiliar place."Vance raised his right hand, saluting with his pointer and middle finger up. "Will do Lady Tasha.” He then patted the slugthrower handle on his back. The Marauder’s green eyes flashed vivid green as She turned back towards the hanger, her steps eerily silent as she seemed to practically fly into the air while she moved swiftly forward to the left side, perching for a moment on a small ledge to track the blood trail further. She was always one for swift quiet action and getting results.