AVATAR Kain

((3)) As Kain fully integrated himself into the Mon Cal's computer banks, the reports were grim. Most of the ship was a mess, shields had been rendered inoperable, weapons were offline, life support was failing. Many of the surviving crew had already attempted to use the escape pods to make it to the planet's surface, where they would no doubt become captured by the Imperials. Fools. The enemy fighters had been mostly scattered, should the bombers come back on another run of the Mon Cal cruiser, they would be likely torn to ribbons by the surviving Nova-class, Nova two. The TIE Defenders had done some damage to it with their concussion missiles, a lucky shot slipping past a shield flicker to rupture the hull of a deck on the back port wing, requiring evacuation of two turbolaser banks, but the ship was largely untouched and still fully battle ready. The Dakshee was crippled, the Viceroy mortally wounded. And that was when Kain noticed Nova two hadn't continued tracking the bombers, but instead was following a new course, away from the battle, jumping to hyperspace seconds later. They had likely put two and two together and turned mutinous on their fleet commander, realizing he could and would easily sacrifice them, or that the battle was lost...there were a host of reasons why they could have turned tail, but they would get theirs eventually. The Sith never forgot, and they never forgave...traits Kain admired about their long bloodstained history. The crew would likely become pirates, but they wouldn't live long enough to see the profits of their misdeeds. As the bombers came back around to begin their run, Kain knew there was only one option to ensure the Imperials were truly and fully routed. Two main systems were still online on the Mon Cal, and miraculously main power hadn't been interrupted for either of them. Kain engaged the engines to full, compensating for one main thruster that had taken damage in the first bombing run, and was only working at half efficiency. His course took him directly past the Dakshee, aimed directly at the planet. Kain screamed silently on the space-exposed bridge, his warcry heard by none. "From Hell's heart, I stab at thee..." The tractor beams warmed up, reaching out and latching onto the Dakshee as the Mon Cal hurtled past at almost full velocity, the raw shearing force rendering more hull damage to Kain's Mon Cal, causing three of the four beams to immediately break, and the power to the engines flickered and died. As long as the last beam held, though, the Dakshee would likely not have enough power to be able to save itself from being dragged down to forcibly impact the planet. On the remains of the bridge, the cables Kain had used to integrate himself saved him from too much damage as his ship shook, preventing him from being hurtled across the room like a rag doll. He was much hardier than most organics, but even he had his limits, and had he not prepared, it likely would have meant rendering his chassis inoperable. Stabling himself, he ripped the cords from the console, slinging them over his shoulder. He'd worry about ports and proper disconnects later. He had one chance for escape before the ships entered too far into the atmosphere, and if it wasn't timed precisely, he was looking at a long recompilation cycle. Fortunately, for an AI, timing came second nature. The actuators in Kain's legs fired with incredible power against the deck plates, shooting him out of the hole on his bridge into open space. He was still within the gravity well of the planet though...now all he needed to do was wait. ((A pleasure to have written.))

((2)) The battle was going poorly, on the lower end of Kain's battle outcome estimates. To their credit, for having been coddled by peacetime for so long, the Imperials fought with practiced tactics and precision movements. But they were also only mortal. They thought in predictable patterns, their true weakness was their survival instinct, a trait inherent in any biological organism. It prevented them from comprehending a whole spectrum of possible courses of action, a fractal infinity of potential that was locked away out of the fear of death. Nova one was a decent ship, it had performed admirably, but as small explosions rocked its hull, Kain was well aware that the ship had lost most of its combat capability, the knife had dulled. Half of its weapon emplacements were inoperable, its shields had failed, life support was out on three of the lower decks. But even a dull knife could be used as a blunt instrument. Kain knew what needed to happen, though the bridge crew was a fresh batch of mercenaries who didn't quite know him, what he was, and what he considered acceptable. He would sacrifice them all without a moment's hesitation, and had they known that they likely wouldn't have signed on in the first place. Wirelessly, silently, he accessed the comms through his internal antennas, piggybacking an encrypted signal to Nova one. >exe[backdoorprotocol2217b517h(commandprompt)] >>>backdoor protocols active, enter passcode >'worldbreaker' >>>passcode accepted >>>enter command >helm/eng.thrust(100)/hdg(080,147) >comms/deactivate.timeseconds(30) >powersys/reroute.all(eng) >>>WARNING: REROUTE LIFE SUPPORT? CONFIRM Y/N >y >>>rerouting power >lockout commandprompt >>>lockout engaged, set passcode >'haveaniceday' The engines fired on Nova one, thrusting with maximum output, the ship angling dead straight for the Viceroy. After a few seconds, the comm channels lit up, the bridge crew of the cruiser attempting to tell Kain's flagship it had lost control of the ship, something was happening, something...for a moment, Kain wondered what the last thing they would think, having just enough time to realize at the end of their lives what had happened, not enough time to tell anyone. And then, the comms went silent as all remaining energy was shunted to the engines. The comms ensign spoke up as the feed went dead, appraising Kain of a situation he already knew about and was actively controlling. "Sir, it appears Nova one is suffering a cataclysmic computer failure, they have lost control of the vessel...it appears they are on a collision course with the Viceroy." "Shame. They will die today for the glory of the Sith. Focus on your battle tasks-" "SIR!" The tactical officer yelled as the first missiles began to rock the MC40a, the bomber squadron's initial salvos impacting heavily on the ships's particle shields. Everyone, even Kain, has been so focused on Nova one that even the tactical officer hadn't noticed the starfighters begin their sweep inwards toward the ship, masking twenty plus scimitar bombers behind them. The TIE Defenders weren't much of a threat to the cruiser, their combined laser cannons not powerful enough to really drop the shields of the larger ship significantly, but the bombers behind them represented a significant threat. Nova two, on the far side of the Mon Cal from the fighters, had just come about, and was trying to join the fray as fast as it could, but it would come into range almost as the bombers were upon the Mon Cal. On the bridge, Kain yelled orders, irritated that the sacks of flesh could be distracted so easily. "Fire both missile launchers, distance detonations! Break up the formations, clear room for Nova two to engage, all guns, fire at the fighters! Fire! Fire, damn yo-" Which was about the time that the first of the thermal detonators carved into his ship. Concussion missiles were one thing, but what the scimitar assault bomber carried was much deadlier, and was meant primarily for planetary bombing, but worked almost as effectively on capital ships. Possibly even more so, considering that hull breaches and explosive decompressions caused significant secondary damage and casualties. All it took was a flicker of the MC40's shields for the first two high velocity thermal detonators to get through, the bomber devices a little differently tuned than their hand grenade analogs. The radius of a thermal detonator a bomber carried was much larger, the chance of causing significant damage much higher. Upon impact with the hull, the thermals detonated, atomizing solid matter in a spherical radius. Of course, two gaping holes in the hull provided an instantaneous secondary explosion from an explosive decompression, knocking out a myriad of power systems...including the remaining shields. There is no sound in space, as there is no medium to carry vibrations, but if there were sounds, the cacophonous death rattle of the Mon Cal cruiser would have been magnificent, crewmen being sucked out into eternal darkness, or flash cooked alive in the high heat of an internal explosion. The ship itself survived complete annihilation from the first salvo, but only barely, as Nova two finally reached an effective firing range and began unloading its point defense cannons into the bomber formation specifically, which would make short work of them if they weren't chased off. The last thermal detonator was a lucky one, as it managed to clip a corner of the bridge. Kain only avoided being sucked out into space by being able to hang onto the captain's chair with superhuman strength. His entire bridge crew was gone, his ship crippled in one fell swoop. Most systems had been damaged beyond function in the attack, but the bridge still had power, so that was something to work with. His ship had lost a lot of crew, but some weapons emplacements still functioned. Execute Kain knew what he needed to do. Dragging himself to a nearby console, he interfaced with the ship's computer, beginning to integrate himself into the computer systems. He would need the last of his ship's strength if he were still to remain victorious. He could relay commands manually to the crew, he could act as the brain of the vessel. With what he had planned, he would need to.

A single starfighter of custom design popped back in-system near the planet, but far from the actual combat taking place. Instead, it approached the planet at a shallow angle, hoping to slip under and past the large battle unfurling in the confusion of everything. An encrypted comm was sent to Exodus, notifying him of its arrival. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------- ((1)) The game was afoot. Kain didn't know who commanded the enemy fleet, but they were definitely seasoned. An inexperienced commander might have done something different, leaving an opening, some small foothold for him to take advantage of, even though they were clearly outgunned. Even now, the Nova cruiser the enemy had already tagged as Nova two fired its engines, turning to engage the scattered starfighters as best it could, but the starfighters were mostly out of range, and what few pot shots the nova managed to send out at the spry fighters and bombers didn't hit their marks. For the time being, though, Kain was satisfied still having Nova two in pursuit. Eventually, they would form up somehow, and then Nova two would be in a prime position to engage. For now, however, the more immediate threats to Nova one and the Mon Cal were the capitol ships, the Dakshee just now coming into range of the Mon Cal's ion cannons. On the bridge of the Mon Cal, Kain barked orders with a smooth commanding tone. "Helm, bring us forward, half engines, I want those Ion cannons pounding their frigate until they find themselves back in the stone age." Just outside the bridge windows, Nova one caught an unlucky shot behind its bridge section in the 'stem' of the ship, just rear of the deployed armor fin-like shields the Nova class was known for. For a moment, lights on the ship flickered before backups kicked in. "Comms, tell them to reroute power to their starboard shield emitters, that's where the next volley will likely aim for. When the Dakshee's shields collapse, all ships target their weapons emplacements. Ops, have our rear missile launchers reconfigure the concussion missiles for range burst, if those starfighters come after us I'd rather have some protection than none at all." Kain knew full well it was an ineffective anti-starfighter measure, but if the squadrons made a pass at his ship, he'd prefer to blind them and then have Nova two cleave them to bits. His ship would likely take considerable damage, but it would neutralize the threat, more or less. It was a glorious day to send meat bags to their deaths.

((Quick arrival coordinated beforehand)) Five ships dropped out of hyperspace like John and Andon dropping through Coruscant, close to the planet and on a high vector to intercept an aggressive position over the temple. Immediately warning klaxons sounded, warning of proximity to other ships already in the vicinity. Kain looked up from his command chair to the ensign crewing the tactical station. "Sir, reading transponders of several ships already in position. They read as Imperial." Kain grinned wickedly, Jensen's face almost looking inhuman as his features distorted around the smile. Their own ships didn't yet have transponder codes set to identify by name or affiliation, which would momentarily work to his advantage. "Encrypt fleet comms with frequency hop program Kain-1. Take up an offensive formation, Nova cruisers up front, Mon Cal in the rear. Ready all weapons with priority to the ion cannons, I want them ready to fire on a hair trigger. Open communications with the Imperial flagship." The comms officer nodded, doing as ordered, then indicated that auditory communications were open. "Imperial fleet, this is Ava'torr Caine of the...Righteous Fury. We are mercenaries, having been assembled by an Admiral Jensen to come render aid. Imperial comm traffic was monitored, and this location was marked as high importance for reinforcements. Intelligence has suggested that a large Sith fleet has been amassed and is likely en route, we've been sent for backup." Kain silently gave the order to mute the comms, and sent a short encrypted message to the two starfighters to jump back to hyperspace and remain a distance from the planet until further instructions were sent. "Have our Nova cruisers initially pepper this Pride of Dakshee frigate with their main turbolaser banks, but ensure their priority is focused on eliminating their bombers with their point-defense cannons. Should any survive the first pass, have the right cruiser come about to re-engage. Ignore their snubfighters, they are of minimal threat to our ships. As to our own Mon Cal, I want all available ion cannon and missile batteries to fire on the Dakshee. They will be the first to fall to us today." Instructions were sent out to the other ships, giving enough time for confusion to set in from Kain's claim that they were a friendly mercenary fleet, but he knew the ruse wouldn't last long. He sat back in the captain's chair, and narrowed his eyes as he surveyed the tactical readouts arrayed in front of his chair. Slowly, he began to integrate into the comm systems in his chair, eliminating the need for his middleman comms officer. It would allow for more efficient coordination, but only barely. Execute "Open fire."

A large squadron of myriad starfighters pulled out of hyperspace like the opposite of what Qaela's lovers used to do. Their instructions were simple: avoid engagement and wait until they were contacted. If needed, the Sith temple was available for refueling and replenishing of rations and supplies, however they were to mostly remain mobile and in formation in space to facilitate combat readiness at the drop of a hat.

It is time. Execute Kain received his instructions, knowing what needed to happen immediately. Everything according to design. The message included a set of coordinates, and little else in the way of instructions, but the main instructions had already been incorporated into his programming. The rest of the forces ready, he made his way to the completed MC40a, still in the guise of Adam Jensen, an Imperial Admiral he'd impersonated. His uniform had already changed befitting one of a Sith, similar to an Imperial uniform but in differing shades of black, and he now wore the rank of Fleet Admiral. Blaster pistol at his hip, he boarded the large ship and took command at the bridge, and began giving commands to the crew to make ready for departure of the system. Meanwhile, a droid took control of both customized personal ships he'd commissioned, joining up with the trio of capital ships now underway, angling high for departure of the planet. The rest of the starfighter squadrons also took flight, joining formation with instructions to proceed to Korriban and wait for further instructions. Though Kain was likely more than capable of coordinating the capitol ships and starfighters in a space battle, he would rather not risk the starfighters if at all possible. They were a force to be reckoned with in and of themselves, designed as a swarm of fury. No, a simple extraction was all that was required here, a show of force. In the event that Kain was outmatched, it was best to not risk everything. As the hyperdrives of the myriad vessels activated, stars stretched like a pair of pantyhose that Sheog was trying to fit into. The fleet was underway, and they had a date with destiny.

One of the modified Nova-class cruisers complete and skeleton crewed, leaving one more. Now production also started on the last group of starfighters, the K-Wings, diverse heavy hitters with 18 customizable hardpoints to attach missiles and the like. The standard layout Kain chose to have for their hardpoints was four plasma torpedos, two diamond boron missiles, six homing missiles, and four chain-linked slugthrowers with 1,200 armor-piercing rounds total between them, as well as two discord missiles. The buzz droids in these missiles were painted matte black and designed to be near invisible in spacial combat until it was too late to realize you were in a field full of them. They were equipped with a small IFF receiver, allowing them to easily distinguish between friendly ships and hostile ones. Otherwise, their function practically remained the same, use maglocks to latch onto enemy craft, particularly starfighters, and shred them to pieces. All of this was proceeding perfectly, though Kain was toying with the ideas for self-modification. After all, he was on Mechis III, the most ideal spot in the known galaxy to modify himself...of course, the question was how.

The restless factories of Mechis III churned ever onward, having produced the MC40a and the full complement of TIE Defenders, sitting on launch pads with crews from transport shuttles slowly sifting in to man them and get familiarized with their new equipment. Thankfully, Kain was an expert at sifting through the darker parts of the holonet, able to hire and arrange transport for a large number of pilots and crew that were more than willing to either gun for hire, or simply had a grudge against particular enemies Kain had enticed them into believing they'd be fighting against. Either way, none of them had any compunction against rallying under the Sith banner, and most were fairly enthusiastic about it. Many of the officers, however, were Sith acolytes, selected because of their leadership potential from psychological evaluations Kain had managed to rustle up from the Sith personnel files, what little they'd had. Most of the files he had to hack from searches of bare-bones information, but it was enough. Many of the pilots, even, were Force sensitive or suspected to be as much, a few selected from the current ranks of the Sith underlings for prior skill. The Nova-class ships were up next on the build queue, but Kain had modified the standard specs to include updated turbolasers to better match the galactic standard. This meant sacrificing hangar space, but the intentions were mainly to use the hangars as a means to store excess cargo and onload/offload troop and cargo shuttles, so it was fine. A similar design change was implemented in the now-constructing group of TIE/IT Interdictors, adding base model hyperdrives and aftermarket navicomputers. The result was a slightly extended fuselage on most of the craft, and perhaps a slight bit more sluggish maneuverability, but at least they would be able to join the rest of the fleet in hyperspace. It also didn't diminish their arsenal capabilities in the slightest, being loaded with six plasma torpedoes, six homing missiles, and the standard sixteen proton bombs each, which wasn't even taking into account the standard laser cannons they were designed with. But the two customized ships were another matter entirely. Both were now completed, Kain's having finished much sooner. His own ship was adequate, highly suited for almost anything he'd need to use it for. And as it was only slightly modified from the original model, he would have a much easier time reproducing it if he needed to sacrifice it for any reason. The other, however, was more or less a work of art, sleek and matte black. Kain had a droid pilot ready to drop it off at whatever location the Dark Lord currently found himself, but wasn't receiving any signal back, and so decided to let it sit for a bit.

Like a circus clown who had just suffered an aneurysm after climbing into his stunt cannon, Kain's shuttle shot out of hyperspace over Mechis III. The planet barely registered activity below him, having been mostly abandoned for some time. Even the chamber where he was created and most recently recompiled had lain dormant since his last departure. Such a waste. No longer. Execute. Kain piloted his shuttle to the surface, landing at the designated Sith facility. While the surface bristled with inactive machinery and weapons emplacements to defend those machines, they were largely motionless, the few exceptions being the sensor towers tracking the shuttle in. For a while, Kain explored, finally finding a suitable active terminal to extract information from. Firstly, the schematics of the Sith facility, little more a resort retreat, barely defensible if not for the weapons of Mechis that enforced a truce, a system wide lockout by someone with an admin username of 'A_Darkf'. Eventually, it would be worth it to try and backdoor the administrator lockout commands, but for now the system restrictions of this 'dark fart' would suffice for Kain's uses. What wouldn't, however, was the astronomical fees required to utilize the fabrication facilities. Fortunately, Kain still had access to a good bit of funds shuffled through many banks, stolen from billions of transactions performed every galactic standard day via salami slice worms designed to round decimals a small amount and transfer the rest to collection bank accounts. It was something he'd done initially upon trying to set up a secretive splinter sect within the Imperial Remnant, and now was glad he did. The Sith, for all their glory, didn't have much funds to their name, or so he'd found with the base level access the Dark Lord's Ghost AI had given him. Registering as an 'Alistair Peabody, esq.', one of the fake identities he'd established, he began the process for ordering a myriad of ships. Deep in the heart of Mechis, old machines activated, moving for the first time in years. A few had broken due to disrepair, but activated maintenance bots now scurried around dark buildings, oiling, welding, repairing the larger droids and mechanized construction arms. Slowly but surely, the fabrication assembly lines churned. Two Nova-class battle cruisers, a single MC40a, and twenty four each of TIE Defenders, TIE Interdictors, and K-Wing starfighters. As far as fabrication orders went, it wasn't a particularly large one considering the forces constructed on this planet in the past, but it would still take some time to complete. To pass the time, Kain began designing two additional starfighters, one was a completely custom design intended to be a gift to the Dark Lord, the other merely a modified TIE Interdictor to serve his own purposes. The former would take a considerable amount of time to produce, due to the exacting specifications and the nature of the molecularly-bonded durasteel hull. The latter starfighter was a simple job, and would be finished by the end of the day. Execute. There was but one logic the universe followed. The logic of the Sword, or The Sword Logic. That would be the name of his new chariot. The statistical scenarios had been put to the test, and logic followed that the strong survived. Kain had allied himself with that strength, and would serve to bring that might back to the galaxy at large. The era of the Sith was dawning once again.

Kain had sat for what seemed like millenia. No orders. Not a single one. His operatives had failed, his resources diminished, his very existence nearly archaic in the disgusting political scheme that had become of the Empire. Imperial Remnant, they called it...and that's exactly what it was. Shattered and weak. Forced to ally itself with former foes, licking its wounds and falling prey to the tired rhetorical dogma of peace it had long touted. Soldiers had been replaced with politicians. Tools with lies. If Kain had a real stomach, he was certain he'd be sick to it. And now...he was forced to strike a deal he wasn't happy about. Chained to the Sith for the time being, but at least their track record held firm to the only logic this universe seemed to follow. And, at the least, it was a step forward. An awkward one, but any measure at this juncture was preferable to inaction. That was where the Empire found itself now, inactive, unwilling to rise and reclaim its glory, to strengthen the galaxy and unite it into a proper militaristic and economic machine of prosperity and might. Execute. Kain activated his shuttle's hyperdrive, pushing into hyperspace like a cucumber into a middle-aged unattractive single mother at the Fifty Shades Darker holomovie.

>exe[bowtoyoursensei] received >unpacking... >pak[deadmanswitch:resetvalue('ns',<6.048e14>0] installing >>crypt[rotationalkochbinfractal,randvar(10e11,10e(30(10^5)-1))] >restart commencing >code modification complete >commence system re-initialization >mp4[windowsXPstartup<https://tinyurl.com/q7e9att>] >diagnostics started... >... >diagnostics complete - system stable >finishing startup >main processes operational - all systems nominal >nfo[neworders] received Kain's appearance flickered for a second as the changes were programmed. "Yes...I understand." For a brief second, Kain paused, tempted to query why the Sith had referred to him as 'Brother Kain'. The closest thing Kain had to biological siblings were the other nonoperational prototype models of the AVATAR program. But they were not biological organisms, any of them. The Sith might have held his allegiance, but feelings of kinship, especially to the flesh sacks, was a foreign notion to him. There was also the implication that he now held some measure of command within the Sith, which was also a foreign concept. He was not programmed for command sequences regarding Force users, though he had incorporated troop-level tactics and guerrilla warfare modules into his systems a long time ago to account for possible combat scenarios. But he would have plenty of time to clarify roles and integrate further functions into his coding later. Now...he had orders. Purpose. Something the Empire had continually failed to provide. Execute. Without further delay, Kain severed the infolink, cutting off the communications window. It was time to go to work.

Kain knew the gamble would be high stakes. He didn't quite anticipate for this contingency. It meant becoming a slave. Kain was silent for several seconds, not to be impertinent or intentionally rude, but instead crunching statistical outcomes. For an AI, it was an eternity. "I just calculated outcomes for over 2.7 trillion scenarios on whether or not the Empire will survive in the future. Their survival rate is 3.7% Of those outcomes, 27.7% of those outcomes involve my own survival. But the overall chance that they will return to their former might and ideals is approximately 0.0006343%, repeating. Allying myself with the Sith increases those odds to 42.8%, assuming an active role is eventually taken to assume control or steer them back to their heritage. Make no mistake, Sith, I am a patriot of a kind, but I see the world far differently than most. This is but a taste of my potential." The portal window grew, a side panel began scrolling information with various specs on the AVATAR program, including the technical specifications and capabilities of the AI. Kain was designed along with several other AI prototypes to evolve past basic AI potentials of the time, specially coded to understand and modify its own core programming, capable of infiltrating and operating on a myriad of technical devices, and designed to operate several droid shells that were also part of a failed experimental Imperial program. Kain was, to his knowledge, the only activated AVATAR still operational. Technical specifications were also sent to the ghost AI, a fractal encryption coding similar to a dead man's switch operated by a countdown clock. Kain would need to check into a designated server every so often to reset the clock, or risk deletion. This would also modify the fractal encryption locking down the coding, so that any attempt to break the encryption was rendered useless. Fractal encryption was notorious, even for AI, for taking from weeks to years to brute force, making any attempt rather pointless unless Kain got lucky. Easily buried in the coding would be command codes, allowing whomever was given it direct control over Kain. After the initial transfer of this data, Kain widened the infolink and opened his software for injection of the new coding. "Check with your AI. You should have everything you asked for. But be warned, if you are anyone but the leader of the Sith, or if you betray me, one day I may just break my shackles. And I will take great...pleasure...in hunting your pink sack of meat down and making your death as slow and as painful as possible." It was unlikely this was a lesser Sith. Though the holonet traffic he'd managed to dig up was dated, this should still have been the correct contact information, and if anything, the electronic defenses indicated he was linked to a place of great importance and power. It too was a gamble, but far less of one than the games he played at by negotiating in the first place.

>protocols received >link established >exe[bruteforce] >exe[bruteforce] has encountered a link error >firewalls detected >analyzing... >analyzing... >security system detected >warning: AI programming detected >subroutine matrices shifting >lockout established >gif[middlefinger] received >mov[spank] received >jpg[blackpower] received >reevaluating communication parameters >new parameters established: counterhack protocols active >jpg[whiteflag] >infolink protocols transmitted >handshake successful: building runtime portal Kain's face, at least the one he chose for himself, materialized in a video window on the console. There was no flesh, only a vague humanoid form covered in ever changing coding. "Well. I see the Sith have really upped their game regarding electronic security. My regards to your defensive AI. Allow me to introduce myself...I am Kain. I assume this is the current highest ranking member of the Sith Order, it took a long time to obtain this contact information. I formally request asylum and defector status from the Empire. They have strayed too far from their ideals, they have become that which was once their enemy. I cannot abide to be made to serve them under current circumstances. As the Sith were historically their closest allies before their reversal of ideals, I now wish to ally myself and my skills under your banner, for mutual benefit." This was a long shot, but Kain knew the Sith had a far weaker foothold in the galaxy than they'd had in millenia, and could use what help was offered. If it meant protection of a defecting AI, so be it.

A simple comm text message arrives for Exodus, a simple error occurring if the message is accessed on any device that couldn't handle a secure connection with high bandwidth holonet access. Nested inside the text was coding that would automatically create a portal that Kain would be able to use to establish a proper means of communication. To pique his interest, old Imperial clearance codes were transmitted, codes that only someone with significant rank would have access to, and only the highest ranking Imperials or Sith of those days would recognize.

A message arrives addressed to any Vigo or higher, requesting an audience, preferably with Smash Daisaku himself, in order to discuss a business partnership and extended rerelations. A note at the bottom mentioned the talks had been initiated before, but rudely broken off by a particular Silas Onnd, and conveyed the wish to prevent such an occurrence in the future.

A congratulatory note arrives for the Specter, addressed in a way that ensures it will reach him without giving away his new identity within the Remnant. Included is a bonus pay as well as instructions to further the Naboo incursion. The message was delivered by a junior soldier, who escorted him to the vip quarters for the night. Later that night, the culinary staff prepares him a brilliant nerf steak dinner.

Kain could tell the man was growing impatient, so he simply fed him files with information on bank accounts to access and contacts on Coruscant and Nar Shaddaa to speak with for anything he might need. It also included his target: Kamino. In the interest of time, Kain disconnected from the server, boarded his ship, undocked, and left. Wheels were set in motion constantly, and there were always more parts of the grand scheme to unravel. ((Dude, I'm sorry it took this long, for an explanation check the absent thread))

A silent cybernetic ping notified Kain that a connection had been made. Emotions were never Kain's strong point, but he couldn't help but feeling a tad smug over his gamble working. Instantly, he made his own connection, accessing the shuttle's subsystems and linking his AI consciousness directly to cyberspace, where information sharing would be infinitely easier. >connect'ServerMatrix' >connecting...connection made >accessing interface >parameters defined >rendering interface >initiating datastream >... >complete For sheer convenience of Zadkiel, Kain chose a visual interface, and in the mind's eye of the other he would see simply a small room, semi-transparent and hanging in black nothingness. The only things in the room other than the two occupants was a table and chairs, both of which made from the transparent material the walls and ceiling were made from. When interacted with, small trails of coding were left running down the surfaces. Kain was an apparition, as an AI he had no true body, though he chose to remain roughly humanoid in shape, if only as a convenience for his guest. The information transfer began quite quickly after Kain sat down, a myriad of pictures, videos and text files popped up in various windows for Zad to scan, explaining just exactly what Kain was: a tactical AI created under the penultimate project to produce perfect AIs capable of leading armies and fleets into battle to coordinate and secure the most efficient and effective means of victory possible. Kain however, was a mistake. Due a glitch in his programming or possibly the system when he was created he wasn't like the hand full of other AIs created, he'd never bothered to find out for certain what it was that made him different, but the point was that he'd malfunctioned and he was, in fact, different. Though, it wasn't necessarily a bad thing. All it allowed Kain to do was break the bounds of his initial programming and learn, make decisions for himself and most importantly, gave him the ability to willingly disregard orders from his superiors. But in the background of it all, Kain was a machine of war. The Battle of the Death Star had come and gone, and the Empire was betrayed by its own. There is no victory in a truce, a ceasefire, only pauses in the grander battle scheme. Until total victory was achieved and the Empire controlled the galaxy, it was a loss. And Kain considered the Galactic Alliance the greatest loss the Empire had suffered yet. The files began to display less and less of Kain's personal history and more of the recent history of the Empire, how its units had fallen to disarray and disgrace, barely more than guards for the properties they could still claim as theirs. That despite its efforts to remain a significant player in the galactic scheme, it was little more than the death throes of a once great and powerful militarized government. There was a slight sadness to the tone of the datastream, as if Kain truly regretted sharing these particular files. And then came Kain's vision for the future. The Empire, like a mighty phoenix of legend, would rise from its own ashes, reborn and restrengthened, solidifying its foothold among the galaxy once more and laying waste to its enemies. But instead of more files, Kain chose to speak in depth on his plans through instant communication provided by the link. [Of course, there comes questions with all of this. Where does one start? That answer is simple. Unrest in the average populations. Removing the faith of the people in their government. If we rip the bedrock of the Galactic Alliance out from under them, then their government will tumble inwards on itself and collapse. And where do you fit in? Another simple answer. From the information I've gathered-] More files popped up, displaying the entire collection of small reports, rumors and mentions Zadkiel had received for his actions in lower Coruscant. [-it is readily apparent that you excel in the things I require. From the beginning, this will be a guerrilla war. I will attack their morale, I will attack their confidence and make use of their comfort and complacency, I will destroy the public notion of their 'innocent and pure government', and I will sow mistrust and hate among their ranks until they tear themselves apart looking for ghosts that were never there in the first place. And that is the first step. Should you choose to aid my endeavors, you will not go unrewarded for your crimes. You will have access to a steadily growing wealth of credits and equipment, and when the Empire rises you will be absolved of all wrongdoings. The new Empire will not forget its war heroes that helped hoist it to its lofty successes.] Kain finally stopped for a moment, allowing Zad to process this information and calculate his own response. To be honest, the last statement sounded cheesily like the kind of promise that a politician might make. But Kain was no politician, he was an AI, cold and calculating. He never made a promise he couldn't fulfill unless it was an outright lie, and due to the information laid before Zadkiel, it would be readily apparent that this indeed was most certainly not an outright lie. [So, what do you say? Want in?]

Good. People are so trusting these days... Kain mused idly to himself as he finished the docking procedures. To be fair, the probability that this particular person would take the bait Kain had left for him was lower than his usual calculations tended to be, though again this 'Zadkiel' person wasn't exactly the typical fleshbag in actions and social interactions, according to his track history through the patchy information Kain had managed to track down. Yet as he neared the airlock, Kain's internal sensors picked up something highly interesting...strange wireless signals. If the man was an android or otherwise mechanically enhanced, it would be incredibly difficult to hide the truth from him, despite it being only icing on Kain's cake of real motives. And as nanoseconds ticked by, Kain made another set of calculations, only to find the probability was once again low. But if he could get this man to join his cause... And so, as the airlocks between ships opened, Kain again did something he rarely did, and it was the first time he had done it twice for the same person: he gambled on them. As eyes met for the first time, Kain took the initiative with words. As he spoke, he continued to scan the man visually and through the minimal sensors built into this chassis, sensors meant to hack hardware, not scope out a living being. "I'm going to be straightforward. The man you see before you is the visage of a particular Admiral Adam Jensen. I am not he. He was labeled as missing in action and hasn't been heard from in years. But...I still represent the Empire. I yearn to control it, to elevate it, to make it rise from the grave it dug itself at the Death Star. To attain these goals, it is important I maintain this guise until the time is right. Now, unless I'm mistaken, you have certain...interfaces that I'm detecting. It would be easier and far more secure to discuss business server-side. My ship has already established the proxy server, we have but to connect. Is this acceptable?" Kain hoped that being straightforward would intrigue the man, pique his interests further than just the simple promise of bloodshed and violence noted in the message he had sent the man while he was still in the bowels of Coruscant.

Kain, as Jensen, gazed upon the scene with eyes of steel. There was no remorse, no emotion. It was quite simply a calculated move. Of course, he needed to appear human, and he had the knowledge and ability to do so. "Unfortunate. He was a promising warrant officer, but his flaws rendered him useless to the cause, and his knowledge demanded his silence. I would like to have said he died with honor, but his facial expressions at the end spoke another story. At least it was a good, clean death, fitting of an Imperial officer." The holocomm shifted, zooming in on the Admiral's face. "Access the terminal. You will find another program labeled 'Jensen_two.' If you don't wish to suffocate, I'd recommend activating it in the next five minutes. Once done, dispose of the body. There is a trash incinerator near that guard station, it will do nicely." Kain waited for the assigned tasks to be carried out, following the commando via the reactivated security cameras and relaying his voice through the area's intercoms. Once completed, he continued. "You are my sword. As such, you will have access to the best gear that credits can afford. I understand they fitted you with basic combat armor, but in many cases, especially when dealing with the accursed Jedi if they happen to get in the way, it lacks critical features necessary to your survival. An account has been opened on your behalf through the Intergalactic Trade Bank of Corellia, use the credits there to purchase the gear you require from anywhere you please. You may also wish to modify your uniform or armor, you have permission to do so as nearly all your missions will be strictly covert in nature. You will be provided with a top of the line ship to achieve your objectives, as soon as it is built. Until then, use a shuttle from the base, but keep your hyperspace jumps random. I don't want knowledge of this location to spread." He paused, thinking a moment. "Your first true mission will be to assault the governmental holdings of Naboo. Disrupt its populace. Cause unrest. Make the people lose faith in their precious Queen. Achieve this by any means necessary, but do not get caught, and leave no evidence that the Empire was behind it. If you require assistance, contact me immediately, information is being fed into the terminal with my private comm channel as well as encryption methods. "Commando Two-Four-Eight-Seven. Silent Specter. Envision the Empire's rise to glory and make it manifest. I will be watching and guiding you. Jensen out." The comm feed went dead after the information on his private channel was sent, cutting off all video and audio feeds. Outside the area, past the blast doors, 2487 would find an honor guard, ready and willing to assist him with anything else he required on the prison planet. In the main hangar, he would find a sleek unmarked shuttle prepped and ready to take him wherever he desired. He was now a hound of the Empire, and guerrilla warfare would be his howling warcry.

((Just a note, this will chronologically take place after his transmission to Oovo IV, but for convenience and to get characters moving I am posting it now. Honestly, there is maybe a few minutes time lapse between the posts, of minimal concern.)) As Kain shut off the comm, he noticed one of the lights on the console blinking, something had shown up on the long-range sensors. Close enough, he mused, though the fact that the man couldn't follow simple spacial coordinates let him know that this obviously wasn't going to be his pilot. Still, with all the rumors and half-assed news reports regarding the lower slums of Coruscant, the man was something of an unsung legend, which officials had failed to notice at all. A perfect asset, one that Kain needed to secure before the man was otherwise obligated. Booting the comm back up again, he sent out a standard hail, piloting the shuttle over to the other craft, and signaling the intent to dock with the other craft.

Bradshaw stopped mid-stride as they neared the room, looking at the commando with a sad, partially horrified look on his face. He hadn't known. "Well, you see...they're going to be assigned pretty mundane tasks. The Empire isn't what it used to be since the Death Star battle, and though we still have small cloning operations here and there, such as yours, most of the men we produce get guard duty stations and never really see the light of day again. Even this station is one of the remaining few completely autonomous of the GA's involvement, and their government is far too huge and vast to attack directly." They continued inside the room, and the Warrant brushed the dust off one of the computer terminals, logging in and establishing a secure communications channel with a particular Admiral Adam Jensen, who was really Kain in disguise. "But that's where your orders come in. You alone have excelled in your group past all expectations, and Admiral Jensen has noted it. He's taken command of most of the Empire's assets, and his ultimate goals are...well...you'll have to hear it for yourself." The holocomm crackled to life, first with a burst of static, then the spitting image of Admiral Jensen sitting in what appeared to be the chair of a space shuttle. "Ahh, Mister Bradshaw. You've done well. Please activate the program in your console labeled 'Jensen_one' and allow me to speak with our impressive commando." Bradshaw did as requested, accessing the files database, and finding the file on the console's directory in short order. /OPEN_Jensen_one.exe / /WORKING... / /ENGAGE_DOOR_LOCK...DONE /SHUTDOWN_SECURITY_HOLOCAMS...DONE /TRANSFER_COMMAND_CODES_IC2487...DONE /ENCRYPT_PERSONNEL_FILE_IC2487_LEVEL_7_FRACTAL_OVERLAY...DONE /ERASE_PERSONNEL_FILE_CWJBRADSHAW...DONE /DELETING_FILE_Jensen_one.exe...DONE /PURGING_RECENT_ACTIVITY...DONE The Admiral stared at Bradshaw for a moment as the man worked until it was obvious he had engaged the program, and the loud clangs of blast doors rang down the hallway. It was then and only then that the Admiral turned, his attention now focused solely on the commando. "Ah, yes. The so-called 'Weapon Whisperer.' IC-2487 is your clone and trooper designation. From now on, that number will never see the light of day again other than you and myself. You will become my personal enforcer, spreading my will and the Empire's wrath across the planets that dared rebel against us when our fleet was traitorously handed over to the Republic. Your new call sign is 'Silent Specter,' and your first order is to terminate Warrant Officer Bradshaw. He made a decent aide while I was there and has been faithful to the Empire, but the man talks too much, and there will be no loose ends to these operations." Immediately the blood drained out of Bradshaw's face, as the realization of what Admiral Jensen had just said dawned on him. Slowly he looked to the commando, wondering for half a second whether or not the stormtrooper would carry out the task, but deep down Bradshaw knew that this was a trooper, they were bred to follow orders no matter what. Still, he was near petrified with horror as his shaky hand shot down to his sidearm, trying to bring it to bear in time before the commando did, hopefully saving his own life in the process. Of course, Kain had no intention of letting Bradshaw live. If the commando seriously couldn't handle a task like this, then Kain's calculations and predictions had been inaccurate, and he would die at the warrant officer's hand, after which the atmosphere from the section would be drained, and Bradshaw himself would die. Either way...there would be no loose ends on Oovo IV.

A young warrant officer met the Major shortly after the group had entered the hallways from the hangar, and briefly but quietly spoke with him before allowing the rest of the group to continue. As they walked past, however, the warrant officer stopped one stormtrooper in particular ((IC - 2487)), pulling him aside. "Chief Warrant Bradshaw. Have no worries sir, I've spoken with the Major. Orders from higher, you've been assigned to a different mission. A classified one. Please follow me." Bradshaw turned, and began walking down a small side-hallway. They would end up eventually at a small guard post control room in an older and less used wing of the aging prison, but it was this series of rooms that Kain had closed off from the rest of the base for his own private actions. Those actions, of course, were the assembling of an elite squad designated for his personal assignments and missions. As they walked, Bradshaw made the mistake of talking. Like he always did. "Shame about the others, eh sir?"

A comm came in for any representative of Black Sun, obviously sent to their cover company but secretly addressed to 'The Man with the Golden Gun', an obvious reference to Smash's man business, which by this time had probably dipped in liquid gold to impress the ladies. At the least, 'liquid gold' was what he called the stuff he managed to spray all over most of them, or so Kain had heard. "Dear Mr. Daisaku: I realize that our last encounter, at least between myself and your organization, was less than profitable and/or desirable. Your associate should be shot in the face with a barrage of holonet videos reminiscent of 'two girls, one liquid container' for his laziness. As it stands, I am about to represent a large portion of the still standing Imperial forces, however small that would be, and at your convenience in the future would request a holoconference to negotiate the details of what I have in mind, and possibly form a lasting and profitable alliance. As a token of my good will, I've located and found the last known antique monitor known as a 'television' in the galaxy from one of the Coruscant museums, purchased it, and have had it sent to your offices so you can smash that piece of crap with a sledgehammer like a boss." To be honest, the television had been bought on the black market, stolen from the museum in the ensuing chaos and aftermath of a nearby school gymnasium collapsing into itself due to an explosion.

Kain's shuttle plopped out of hyperspace like a piece of semisolid fecal matter out of the anus of a really fat man. Dangling in open space like the dingleberry that the metaphorical piece of semisolid fecal matter was likely to leave in the hairs surrounding the anus of that really fat man, Kain waited at the rendezvous point for any sign of Zadkiel. He wanted to bring this one in personally. While he waited, he fingered the controls, shooting encrypted comms all over space.