Dubrillion

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Horatio spun slowly around in his great wheeled, black leather chair. His fingers steepled, and at eye level. Or in this case, photoreceptor-level. His head slowly cocked to the side, his eyes observing the dark armoured figure.

 

"So you want employment? Well I am sure we have use for a protocol droid here somewhere....perhaps you would like to dispense soap in the men's locker room? Would that suit you well?"

 

He reached behind him and grasped a file folder, it was dark black, and the ink was written within the electro-violet spectrum. Something only a droid could see.

 

He laughed heartily, and handed the folder to HK-52. "Just kidding, you know the investigation upon Naboo? I want you to infiltrate it." He smiled and pointed to the folder, "The rest is in there."

 

"Remember, this is only a contract, you are not an agent."

[Smash Daisaku]

Sitting in a chair made of diamond, in his luxurious mechanized compound on Dubrillion, Smash Daisaku sent a transmission to Horatio. ”œSheaves of terrorists plans uncovered from Coruscant reveal that Core-Sec marauders were behind a string of atrocities including the Bespin Massacre. A ballpoint pen drawing of a squashed sportsball with a durasteel rod on top of it shows how the CoreSec extremists planned every detail of the horrifying crush of many citizens - believed at the time to be the work of hooligans. The documents are just part of a huge cache of terror tools shown to blindfolded Core World reporters. One describes how the leader of CoreSec also 'felt a system of levers which control all major volcanoes and tectonic faultlines on Coruscant'. A Senate spokesman said: 'We have no reason to doubt that these apocalyptic savages conceived their children to recordings of passengers screaming in the Gala Suicide Crash.' The discoveries come just days after looters offered a Coruscant reporter 'a tidal wave in a suitcase' big enough to destroy the entire Corellian eastern seaboard. CoreSec is now rightfully criticized over a 'manipulative' Galactic Sports opening ceremony in which the entire CoreSec team formed a human Jedi Temple which is then smashed into by a flying competitive snowboarder dressed as a Wookiee carrying the ribcage of a genuine Coruscant fireman. As chained  Wookiee suspects sing 'The Force Bless Gala' at gunpoint, 100,000 doves with weights tied to their ankles are released to recreate an engulfing mass of white dust as the crowd tearfully applauds for five hours. What do you think about all of this?”

[HK-52]

HK-52 cast aside the poor life form's attempt at humor and instead chose to focus his photo receptors upon the folder gripped within the meatbag's cold fleshy hands.

 

He couldn't understand the appeal of having all of those fleshy organs wriggling about under sacks of easily permeable bags of skin. The thought of it repulsed and intrigued the droid, but in the end only served to bring renewed joy to the droid's circuits in knowing how vulnerable this made them.

 

Once offered the jet black folder, tuned to what only HK's or another droid's photoreceptors could receive, he read out, detailed and stored exactly what the assignment entailed into his memory bank. The thoughts and calculations of success were highly variable considering the parameters and even though he desired some sort of closure, no particular calculation could lend him the particular satisfaction of knowing the outcome.

 

Still, weakness wasn't an option, for no HK droid would knowingly or willingly turn down the opportunity to destroy a meatbag. Helpless or not.

 

Respectful Agreement: "Oh yes master, the droid shall do as contracted and nothing more."

 

Addendum: "However, I am guessing that I have access to your weapons storage and you will regard my previous offer of employment more efficiently if I bring this particular operation to a close?"

 

HK sent out signals to the ship, now hovering in orbit above the planet, and it whizzed off. Immediately after he was aware of the urgency, prestige and parameters of this mission, it became clear that he would need a solid alibi.

 

So, because it was known around the galaxy that Naboo was reconstructing, who better than an architect would serve his needs?

 

And, with the turmoil of the Nabooian crisis looming overhead, who is to say that he will have much trouble getting in? It was going to be a trial, and one that HK was most looking forward to.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Horatio shook his head at the droid. ''No access to our weapons lockers, what do you think you need? I doubt you need to blow up half of Coruscant's underlevels. That would be soo original."

 

He sighed and swirled his chair back around to hear the comm form Smash. He nodded slowly, "Totally understandable, those CoreSec are total scum, killing innocent people. Should we send them a package? Maybe a bomb? Or a cake full of strippers? Or perhaps a cake filled with strippers strapped with bombs? Or maybe we should blow up their building from the underlevels....? Would that work? No? Well crap! What if we filled baby carriages with thermal detonators, then strolled them into their HQ? Or what if we staged a protest of their work practises? "

[HK-52]

It seemed this particular meatbag enjoyed his thinly veiled attempts at humor. The coarseness with which his words pierced the audible frequencies of the room were irritatingly familiar and, for a moment, HK could simulate his own mechanical musings with that of the species Bith. Rarely did HK get to use the audible faculties provided by his audio receptors, and these 'humans' with their mockery, never ceased to bemuse and annoy the cold metal droid.

 

Irritated Statement: "Well Master, if you must know, I would like a list of things including and not limited to: a few synthesized pills made up of a substance construct similar to Abrin. It is a protein found in a plant not particularly common in this galaxy. However, it is said that there may be something similar to such things. You will know it, because it disables the body's ability to synthesize proteins."

Addendum: "It is also certain that I will need a few grenades. One thermal detonator of medium magnitude, a flashbang, a cryoban grenade and a frag grenade. No specific reason."

 

"Oh! And if you wouldn't mind, a rocket launcher would be ideal as well."

 

HK-52 was in the moment with the Black Sun representative, but a small message came in his internal comms. It transmitted through his datapad up-link and even though it was a tiresome interruption, something about his current situation and this particular development seemed to mesh together very well.

 

Discretely HK sent a response to the message and answered the query even while continuing to stare at the Black Sun agent.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

The eyebrows shot up a little bit, "Abrin? So you want to kill someone over the course of several hours? Are your sure? I am sure a jedi could easily live from that, but it is your choice." He placed a small glass bottle of pills upon the table. "Here you are, tested to kill children with a single pill." He withdrew a medium sized canister, with a simple pull pin upon its side. "This is a chemical weapon, first tested in some of out facilities, it a highly compressed mixture of Agent 15, and VX gas. Very concentrated, should be enough in there to kill an entire city block in a matter of seconds." He laughed merrily at the thought. He tossed the droid a bag full of the various grenades he had ordered, as well as several more goodies. And yes a rocket launcher was included, with both chemical warheads and shaped charges. It was going to be hell down on Naboo. The good kind of hell. Screaming and all that shit.

[HK-52]

Statement: "I am very pleased with tools of murder and mayhem you have supplied. I will do what I can with these and bring you back any proof you might need"

 

The droid gathered up all of the items, slung the rocket launcher on his back and held his own blaster rifle in his arms. He placed the grenades on three magnetic coils installed for that purpose on his side, and stashed the poison in a small metal compartment located in the lower right part of his torso. The extra ammo and equipment provided were placed on a hover dolly and would have to be pushed back to the ship now coming through orbit and touching back down upon the planet's surface.

 

HK had no intention of hiding his armaments, because his cover wasn't that of a protocol droid this time. It may be a bit blunt and callous, considering the number of witnesses involved, but considering the job, HK was more than willing to just let it go.

 

He would be posing as a body guard droid for a former galactic alliance delegate and a formal imperial officer. It would be an interesting experience, he knew, but he also knew or predicted that his stay would not be prolonged.

 

Closing Statement: "Alright, I will return if and when I have finished the job. If I don't finish, I won't come back. That simple."

 

Then, with his final words echoing through the complex, the droid turned slightly, allowing his legs a little room to adjust, and began pushing the dolly toward the ship that landed approximately half a kilometer away.

 

The distance didn't bother him though. He was a droid; he was cold metal. There was no sensory displeasure or joy to be had from his journey, other than an impatience at being held up. His serious expression never changed because it was in his physical make-up, and his cold blue eyes swept across the blank horizon full of vibrant yellows and greens without feeling.

 

His arrival was short, contemplative and productive. Once loaded, the ship performed all landing precautions and took care not to break up when hitting atmo. Once the ship cleared the dubrillion atmospheric spheres, it sped off and into space.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy sat in silence for quite some time, massaging her abused wrists, to bring feeling back. When the tingling and sharp pains finally came back Sandy grinned. It rotated her wrists slowly, and examined her chains in the darkness. The chains on her wrists were severed, and detached from the bulkhead. Perfect for what she was planning. She was young and inexperienced, being only fourteen, but she had some ideas. She had seen enough of the graphic holos, to know a various assortment of escape plans. She decided it would be best for her to kill the guard when he brought her food. The nasty assortment of scraps dropped by the crew at their table.

 

But still it was food, more than her friend was getting most like. Sandy sighed, mournfully, and brought her thin knees to her chest, cradling the length of chain. She fell into meditation, willing the wounds in her shoulder to repair. As the hours slowly past, she sat in silence, her eye sockets buried in her knees, praying.

 

It seemed her God had answered her prayers, heavy footfalls were heard outside the strong door. She moved fluidly, falling into a crouch, and holding the chain like a whip, the force moving through her veins. When the being took several steps inside with her food she struck. Using the few moves that Adenna had taught her, she brought the chain in a long arc picking up momentum enough to dash the brains of the man. The end of the chain, guided by the force, split the man's skull. Spilling brain matter over the already putrid floor. Sandy was shocked how effective that had been. She scrambled forward and retrieved the cell keys. Scrabbling over the chains on her thin ankles, she finally felt the click and as they fell away, she moved to the doorway. Panting in anticipation.

 

The hallway was bright, and a sharp contrast to the cell she had just been in. She spared a glance to her figure, and let out a silent groan. Her clothes were tattered and ruined, barely covering her slender form. She was not suitable for a night on the town that was for sure. She crouched and rubbed her ankles, feeling where the chains had bit in. She grimaced and grabbed for the downed guard's weapon. She came up with a long, slender, white knife. And an E-11 that was strapped to his back. Both were soaked with his blood, and quite sticky. She tried not to retch, and slung the rifle upon her back. The cold metal, almost made her jump when it pressed against her bare back.

 

It was at that very moment, that the Corvette returned to realspace for refitting over Dubrillion. The crew knew it was dangerous, for this entire world was run by the infamous criminal syndicate Black Sun. Sandy took that moment to run towards where she believed they would have taken her only friend. Her bare feet making only soft sounds upon the corridor's metal flooring. She rounded a corner and found herself face to face with a group of five guards. Taking their stroll from the eatery to their rooms, full of food and wine. However pleasant they had been, it changed in an instant. The three of them rushed the young girl, who attempted a slash with the knife, but was overwhelmed. With a wicked strike, her screaming silenced.

 

”œTake to where they are dealing with her cellmate, she needs to be taught a lesson.”

[Terra]

The dark sickness in her stomach was increasing at an uncomfortable rate. A cold sweat swept over her body, pouring in rivulets from her every pour. A dull pain pounded deep within her mind, a dying. The darkness was drawing back its control, and her body was starting to die. Acid ripped into the back of her throat, and Terra, with trembling hands, ripped the helmet from her head, her face growing intensely pale. She was overcome by the nausea, and vomited upon the decking. Instead of the food she had eaten in hyperspace, only the crimson stain of blood spread upon the metallic decking of the starfighter.

 

With black-gloved hands, she toggled the auto-pilot to set a course for her usual docking pad on Dubrillion's criminal-infested surface and began to remove her armor. Each piece of armor was a memory, each a scar upon her dying mind. As the ship vibrated as it entered the planet's atmosphere, she slipped out of the rest of her uniform and removed a small tunic from the armor locker behind her. She placed the clean tunic around her scarred body and began to examine herself. The flesh around the Sith-metal prosthetics had started to become corrupted, and the pain was excruciating. She popped open the cockpit window as the stolen craft set down upon the criminal world, and staggered slowly to the decking.

 

One of the Black Sun guards approached as she slumped to the ground and caught her. She wrapped her pale arm about his waist and they began to limp to the medical bay, leaving a trail of blood behind them. Crimson droplets stained the metallic ground beneath her bare feet, dripping from her body as her skin began to disintegrate. The 2I-B droids moved her to a cot, and began the process of consciousness transference. Her body, so ravaged by the Sith, was finally paying the toll, and if the doctors weren't fast enough, that cost would be her life.

 

A body landed beside her, a young, freckled, dark-haired girl of about sixteen, with grey eyes. Anger swelled within Terra's dying chest. The cloners had really screwed up. With a bleeding hand, she picked up the girl's chart and scanned her muscle density and dexterity, and was glad to find that the girl would be approximately the same as her. The pain swelled up within her mind, blocking out all other senses, as the Sith Demon finally relented its grasp, fleeing back into the dark oblivion. The darkness swallowed her, and she screamed in terror, death beginning to creep upon her like an assassin.

 

____________

 

With a gasp, Terra awoke within her new body, feeling very different. She was in her own room now, decorated as she had left it a year ago. No longer was there the dark weight of an evil spirit influencing her every movement. No longer was there a weight about her body, caused by the Sith modifications, the different perceptions now falling away to reveal something long-lost. She was back to her old self, honor-bound, a warrior of principal. An Echani mercenary. She rose from the bed slowly, getting used to her new body's weight. This girl was thin, light as a feather compared to the old Terra, but the musculature was greater now than she had been before.

 

She flexed, feeling the ropey muscles sliding and bunching beneath her skin. She glanced into the mirror and examined herself. Her hair was black now, instead of the silvery-blonde it had been before, and her eyes were a sharp grey, like the lime-granite of Hapes, and shimmered with a fire. Her body was one of an athlete, small-chested, strong, agile, and beautiful. The freckles upon her face was a nice touch, adding to the pale skin, like a light dusting of ash upon a snowbound battlefield. She smiled, and examined her teeth, no longer stained crimson with blood. One thing above all was different. She was starving.

 

She slipped into her dark-blue tunic with white highlights, emblazoned with a numeral for her name, 5, for Terra. It felt cold against her skin, which was a nice change. She tied her hair back in a pony-tail, clasping it with a simple silverite band, and set off down the darkened hall towards the cafeteria. She moved silently upon the cold floor, her bare feet making no sound whatsoever. She slipped into the empty cafeteria and placed an order for a large amount of food, starting with a bantha-burger, fried muja, and a large cup of Diet Corellian-Fiz. She ate hardily, enjoying the taste of food for the first time in a year, washing it down with the well flavored pop. As she ate, she reviewed the multiple files on slavery she had gathered on Thallasia, making sure they would be up to Smash's standards of opulent torture. She found them more than adequate and set off for the leader of Black Sun's office.

 

She entered quietly, her arms filled with the slaver's files and datacards, and called out quietly, in a voice not quite her own.

 

”œMaster Diasaku? My mission is complete.”

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

As the klaxons blared signaling the ships emergence from hyperspace on the edge of the Dubrillion System, the communications station lit up with received messages sent from while the Golden Ark was enroute to the system, more than a few of them were from the Coruscanti shop keeper, Nora. The communications officer packeted the information and sent it to the relay station for Uhalû to review at his leisure.

 

The ship's pilot, Kenvil brought the ship closer to one of the orbiting refueling points as the rest of the motley bridge crew made preparations to dock and refuel. Nora just happened to be his older sister and leaving her behind was something that and angered him greatly. He caught snipits of the incoming messages from her enough to know that she was alright. He still wanted to contact her though, but he was stuck in charge here until Uhalû returned from his ”œplay time”

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

Within the Black Sun control tower, a party was underway, complete with the finest Twi'lek dancers, Corellian Ale, and even a tub of spiked pudding. In the heat of the party, the outcast agent, Michelle, stood at her station, trying to ignore the two drunken agents fawning over her. She had a job to do, even during Bobby-Sho's birthday bonanza. A small alert toned on her control panel, and she toggled the comlink, scanning the vessels in orbit. There was one, a Slaver ship, the Golden Ark, floating racistly overhead, that hadn't been cleared for landing. She sighed and spoke into the commlink.

 

”œSlaver vessel, The Golden Ark. This is Black Sun control. You need supplies and refitting? Seems like you've seen a lot of battle. Head on down!”

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy coughed and sputtered for a second and blood leaked from her mouth down onto her chest. She shook her head and attempted to move the locks of blond hair out of her eyes. She felt horrid, and there was definitely a huge bruise on the back of her head. She cursed silently and brought her head up, glancing to where she could see her friend struggling as jolts of electricity went through Mirlada's torso. Attempting to break her spirit, no doubt the same was in store for Sandy. One of the guard's hands brushed across her bare back, and she lashed out with her elbow, catching him unawares. But sadly, the move was futile, and only brought another wicked blow to her already bleeding face. Her scream of pain echoed throughout the ship as it received the Black Sun Boarding party, their commander was bid to report to the Ship's captain, who was currently torturing the older girl.

 

The Black Sun agents would understand, this was not the first time Black Sun had seen or treated with slavers, and if they demanded a bit of the prize, then it would be given, for safe passage.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

The black sun agents and their commander boarded the Golden Ark with much fanfare. Obscene amounts of alcohol and drugs were distributed to the crew by young black sun slaves who handed the drugs and alcohol from woven baskets as they skipped down the corridors, barefoot. High quality death sticks flew like flowers from their hands, littering the floors with a thick layer of illegal substance.

 

It was then that the Black Sun delegation made their way to the torture chambers where the captain was residing. The Black sun agents were dressed very peculiarly, in tabards and tunics of yellow satin. With a black shining sun embroidered upon the breast. Some wore halfhelms, and chainmail, though their commander, Michelle, wore full plate armour. Black as pitch, with gold tracery. Bobby-Sho's birthday had been a ”œGrand tourney of the Ancient Renaissance.”

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Every muscle in Mirdala's body ached from the convulsions that the stun baton caused. She could feel the insidious drugs start to strengthen their hold on her system. Their tactic was obvious and two-fold - the drugs would keep her manageable, and getting her addicted would cause her to be dependent on them to supply her with the drugs. With the amount they were currently pumping into her body, addiction would take hold within a few days, severe dependency inside of a week. She knew that one of the drug elements was spice, and that it was a large component of the cocktail and that withdrawal wasn't pretty or pleasant. She figured that they'd get her addicted and then cut her off to try to get her to divulge the information that they wanted. She would die first, though it might not be the best way to go, she knew that she could never live with herself if she ever betrayed the man she loved.

 

Even in her semiconscious state, she was aware of others that were now on the ship. She managed to open her eyes a little wider, her breathing ragged because with her arms suspended as they were she wasn't able to take proper breaths, leaving her a little light-headed. The new comers looked ridiculous, but Mirdala didn't miss the large black suns that were emblazoned on them all. Her jaw clenched in anger as she narrowed her eyes at the blond woman, trying to determine if she were the one that had run her riduur through with a pike just over a year ago. She so focused on the woman as she greeted Uhalû, that she didn't notice that Gediminias had come within striking distance again and was examining her closely, listening instrument to her chest, ensuring that her heart was still beating after so many shocks to her system.

 

Luckily, for him it was, and he cautiously lifted her shirt slightly to make sure that she hadn't herniated during the convulsions either. Newly healed skin formed a slight pink line across her abdomen, someone had recently tried to gut this woman like a giju. Mirdala took notice of him then and brought her knee up sharply into his groin, collapsing him to the floor in a squeak of pain.

 

Uhalû just looked at him and shook his massive head as he turned to address the new arrivals on his ship, "Souvenirs. A group of Jedi, CoreSec and Mandos caused some trouble for us on Thalassia, so we thought we'd claim prizes from them. Got all three covered in just one extra pickup." The Gamorrean gestured towards the suspended Mirdala. "This one's a Mando that works for CoreSec, and if I'm right, possibly an associate of ShadowFett himself if the rumors are true he's heading up the pigs on Coruscant." He grunted, dangling that in front of the Black Sun agent for a moment before turning to his second, indicating that he should continue the conversation while he had his fun with the prisoners.

 

His second, a human male named Lura who was about 6'6", wider than the average door, well-muscled with unkempt dark hair and equally dark brown eyes stepped forward to address the woman from Black Sun, completely oblivious to the history behind the Organization and a Mandalorian named ShadowFett, especially what had transpired at this very location years before. "We don't have their names for them, other than the Mando bitch's family name is Ad'gore-something. As for the plans for them, you can use your imagination. We're slavers." He crossed his arms, indicating the matter was closed. Behind him, Uhalû delivered a powerful blow to Mirdala's side, and the sound of breaking ribs could be heard, and the woman slipped from consciousness once more.

 

The Gommorean nodded to Michelle, "Thanks for your hospitality, but we don't want to hang around one place too long. Lura, get that lazy bridge crew ready to depart."

 

"Yes sir," he acknowledged turning on his heel and leaving. He'd hoped to get his turn trying to break down the Mandalorian woman, but Uhalû wasn't known for his patience. He'd have his chance later, though, and he was quite looking forward to it.

 

While Uhalû was busy with their Black Sun guests and the Mandalorian woman, Orban, another of the slaver's motley crew, approached Sandy and hauled her roughly to her feet. "What's your name Jedi?"

 

His grotesque grin belied that he didn't really care what the child's name was, he was going to beat her until she forgot it. If she were going to be of any use to them at all she would have to be completely broken. They would have to shatter every link that she had to her former life, and he was going to start with her name.

 

"Spice for this one too?" he asked Uhalû who was still trying to elicit a scream of pain from the stubborn CoreSec officer.

 

It was the doctor who answered, "You fool, you've never seen a Force-User on it have you? That's the last thing that we need to have on board. You think that what paltry things she can do now are a pain, just give her a bit of that stuff and we'll be lucky to live. It amplifies it for them you koochoo."

 

Uhalû stepped back from his assault on Mirdala, curious as to why she was suddenly smiling. For some reason he found it unsettling. He had no way of knowing that she had latent Force-powers that she'd recently become more accustomed to using. He was going to be in for a nasty surprise.

[Sandy Sarna]

Sandy shrieked in pain as the man brought her to her bare feet. She could feel her legs trembling, but she knew better than to let herself fall. As her friend before her, she brought her knew into the man's groin. Her thin, bony knee, would not do all that much damage by itself, but when aided by the force it would do quite a bit. She could feel her knee shatter as she drove it through his pelvis. Now that! That was a lot of power, fuelled by her pain and anger. She laughed as she ripped her leg from his abdomen, whilst blood bathed the floor. Then she blinked, though the move had brought a laugh from the black sun agents, it had only brought fury from the Slavers.

 

The Doctor laughed as well, as he approached her. She silently cursed, she couldn't even run away. It would have been far better to let the man do what he wanted. Instead, now she would learn the most painful way. She grimaced, then began to scream, in her thin girlish voice as they beat her, and shocked her, and did other things that she dared not remember. With a stiff blow across her head, she almost fell into the blissful depths of unconsciousness, but sadly she kept her wits. And the torture continued to even as Ulahu continued on Mirlada. He laughed. "See what they do to her, why don't you give up, let her be free of her pain, tell us what we want to know. And you and her may return to your cells."

 

The Black Sun Agents were escorted from the ship, but not after one of them had recorded the whole ordeal, on his camera phone.

[Mirdala Ad'Goran]

Mirdala coughed, sputtering up a little blood that dribbled down her chin, confirming for her what she'd already begun to suspect with each painfully shallow breath. One of her lungs had been punctured from one of her at least three broken ribs. The strain that being suspended was putting on her body wasn't helping, but she still managed a short laugh as she spit the blood from her mouth. ”œSwine, you apparently don't know much about galactic history.”

[Terra]

Terra sighed nonchalantly as she glanced around the empty office. Stepping up to Smash's desk, she organized the file-cards on slavery that he had ordered upon his desk, where he could easily see them, and tore off a sheet of flimsy-plast. Taking the sheet of paper, she wrote a brief message down for the commander, with her comlink number, destination, and possible missions. She would head to Bespin, where she could oversee the base, and perhaps receive a mission from one of the other agents. Striding carefully out of Smash's office, she went swiftly to her room, and accessed her clothing locker.

 

Taking out a new uniform, a fatigue of olive green, she stripped off her tunic and placed her armor on, followed by the uniform and her combat boots. Making sure the insignia was visible upon her shoulder, she strapped on her weapons and vambraces. Taking her two flechette pistols in hand, she secured them to her thighs in their blackened holsters, making sure they were properly loaded. Placing her vibroblades and disrupter rifle upon her back, she grabbed her slugthrowing rifle from its case and placed the strap around her neck. She glanced at herself in the mirror, analyzing her new features and body, pleased with her new self, separated entirely from the Sith order.

 

With a kind smile adorning her face, she grabbed her force-mask from the counter and jogged to her ship, The Darkened Fear, stretching out the aches and pains of the new body. The ship was beautiful, decorated in black and red, equipped fully to the best of Black Sun's abilities. It would be a great improvement over the Sith ship she had destroyed over Thalassia. Three Black Sun special operation officers met her at the landing ramp, dressed in similar olive-green fatigues, with red berets, armed with slugthrowers and body-armor. They were the best of the best; a personal squad gifted to her by the Vigo council for her many successful missions. They were all human, naturally, one female and two males. The girl's name was Elise, and her hair was kept in a tight braid of flaming auburn down her armored back. She carried a sniper rifle with a laser-point scope.

 

Both of the men were spec-op grunts, twins by the looks, named John and Tanner, their hair black and cut military short, and in their hands were heavy assault rifles. With a casual smile, Terra led the group up the boarding-ramp and into The Darkened Fear. Several agents loaded a small box of cargo into the hold, careful to not be noticed or recorded. Sitting down in the cockpit, Terra started up the craft, and Elise took a seat beside her, as the twins set to work manning the ship's guns. Guiding the craft from the docking pad, she started up her tracking computer, analyzing the tracking signal coming from deep space. The group had left Thalassia. With a small laugh, Terra brought the ship out of Dubrillion's atmosphere and activated the hyperdrive, sending the assault-craft on-rout to Bespin, with several micro-jumps thrown in to confuse anyone on her trail.

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

The agents went about their festivities, jousting went for another go. And the men marched through the lists. The names and banners advancing as others were left in shame. A great deal of mead and happiness were doled out. And in turn, the file about the encounter was uploaded to the bases' commander, a Vigo by the name of Delta's RCAA3 network. Including the photos of the captives, and small videos of their ordeals.

 

Then drunkenness took over. And the music became loud enough that those miles away could not sleep.

[Delta73]

The St. Catheryne blasted from the realms of hyperspace to the edge of the system. Followed quickly by the huge escort of 80 starfighters, and 20 assault bombers. It was a bit over the top, but that was Black Sun's style. As the ship came to land, the slaves toiling in the fields glanced up wearily. Seeing yet another Vigo come and go. The great defense turrets tracked the incoming ship, prepared to blast anything that was not a registered Black Sun Vehicle. And didn't respond adequately to the comm transmission. Or give the proper up-to-date codes. There would be no second warnings of course. And naturally many ships lay wrecked and destroyed in the fields of cotton surrounding the great and heavily defended base.

 

They passed over the slick defense walls, (properly mined and armed) as well as the smaller point defense system. The Walls were also studded with spikes, bearing the heads of those who defied the great Smash within. Most of the spikes were refreshed daily.

 

Delta brought the robust ship to a brilliant landing, and when the hatch was unsealed, a troop of 300 hundred agents met him and Qaela with thunderous applause. All were armed to the teeth with Flechettes, disruptors, slug throwers, sonic weapons, and a few even carried greatswords slung on their backs. Delta also noted the jousting tournament occurring in the background. With many of the agents on the field, clothed in yellow satin doublets and black chain-maille.

 

The medical team quickly escorted Qaela to the medical bay, while Delta followed, with a team of agents in full black plate. They were some of the agents from the Marie. All of them were here on Dubrillion, but these were his bridge crew. His knights. They were ten in number, With black armour and crimson cloaks.

 

They and he, made their way to Qaela's side after the operation.

[Qaela]

Qaela spent most of their long trip to Dubrillion in blackness, completely unaware of the passage of time or, mercifully, the pain she would have been in. Ca'Aran and perhaps a few others of his agents””she really couldn't remember much””had hooked her up to some sort of machine that they claimed would help filter her blood. To add to that, and to keep her from doing something that would make the injuries worse, they dosed her up with some pretty heavy sedatives and put her in some sort of medical hibernation.

 

Landing on the planet was lost to her memories, as was the operation. She slowly began to wake up from the ordeal to a bunch of bright lights and shadowy figures hovering over her. Had she been fully conscious, she probably would have lashed out, but her mind was still very slow from the drugs and operations so she simply lay there drifting in and out of consciousness.

 

She didn't know how long it took for her mind to regain full consciousness, but when she did, she could see many armored figures standing over her. Panic caused her adrenaline to spike bringing her mind even more up to normal operating speed. She shouted a Dathomiri curse and tried to get up. That didn't work out too well as pain shot through her side that surprised her and landed her right back where she had began. The pain wasn't horrible, but for a moment, she had forgotten about her injury.

 

She took stock of her surroundings and realized that there was no threat in the room. Further, she felt the Force presence of Ca'Aran and began to recall some hazy memories of him in different armor than normal. She was not happy at the presence of others, but there was nothing she could do in this state but snap their necks one by one with the Force and that would likely only anger Ca'Aran.

 

"You should know better than to surround me with armored beings like that," she said. There was no venom in her voice but rather it was rather dreamy, almost as if she were drunk. "You are lucky my head isn't all the way clear or they would be nothing but paste marks on the wall. Where are we?"

[Delta73]

Ca'Aran shrugged, ”œThese are my men, ma'am, a symbol of my power, as such you must abide them.”

[Qaela]

Though she was still struggling to overcome the affects of the sedatives, Qaela tried to probe her unborn babies with the Force to see how they fared. Slowly, her brain registered that there could be interesting side effects of being unconscious for so long and unable to maintain her ever present spell that sped up their development.

 

Several mental passes through the region didn't register any problems. Everything seemed to be functioning normally and all three Force presences were bright and robust. "They are doing swell," she said in an unnaturally soft voice. She had felt better after an all night drinking party where she was trying to seduce information out of a particularly nasty male. Even though she spent the rest of the night throwing up and woke up with a horrible headache, she was able to get the information and didn't even have to sleep with the male. This was worse because, though she didn't have the pain, she couldn't focus or even think straight.

 

She looked up at his smiling face and returned the smile. She then patted his gauntleted hand on her shoulder and said, "I should kill you for seeing me in this weak state. But don't worry, I love you too much to do that, so you are safe."

[Delta73]

In the very second she muttered the words, 'I should kill you.' There was the ringing of steel blades, for the knights flanking Delta had drawn their swords, And behold, they cried in unison. "You would die, ere thine stroke fell!"

 

Yet Delta laughed, and brushed her cheek with his armoured finger, "No doubt you would my dear, but it would not bide well for the children!" With that, the doctor cleared her, and the group escorted them to the St. Cathryne. The Knights boarded in full plate, hauling their other, more modern weapons as well. The Ship had been fully refitted, with new transponder codes, concussion missiles galore, men, women, knights. The Armoury carried the weapons of Delta's choice, yet none of his familiar Katarn armour. In its place were sets upon sets of the mando garb, stolen and replicated from the Kal-Korans. Repainted black, with crimson Kamas, 10 pair for his knights, and another, for Qaela, properly fitted for her pregnancy whilst she had been asleep.

 

As the ship began its preflight preparations, there was much fanfare and drinking. As well as a few sacrifices.

[Smash Daisaku]

Smash Daisaku, ever in the driver's seat of the Black Sun and perhaps the richest man ever, sat at his magnificent desk looking over information about slavery. He perused through slave sheets, on slave cards, in slave boxes, pro-slavery t-shirts, over slaver guides, and even inside slaving magazines. Slave books talked about slave protocol and slave manuals dictated how to cheaply feed and water the living property. A catalog had a great sale on slave shackles and a radio ad discussed the importance of letting slaves sleep. Smash was inundated in slavery. It was a good thing.

 

He pushed a button on his desk, which would summon some sort of operative or henchman. He had a minor task that needed completion. ”œSomeone get the hell in here!”

[Black Sun Agent(s)]

The tourney was coming swiftly to a head, thousands of men, and it had come down to two. Lord Felkwy of Cloud City and Lord Justin from Coruscant were now galloping down the fairway, their lances levelled! Then the comm beeped. Horatio groaned and made his way to Smash's office. Horatio still wore the dress of the tourney, a yellow satin doublet over chain maille.

 

Horatio brought with him a leg of mutton and some mead for smash, as well as a serving wench to make the digestion more comfortable. He smiled and opened the door.

 

"Mi'lord? How may I be of assistance?"

[Smash Daisaku]

”œThere are a number of pro-slave organizations that I strongly believe in and I want to support them financially. Since Black Sun is a criminal organization, I don't think it would really help to give them blatantly stolen and counterfeited money. Therefore, I want you to sell the naming rights of Cloud City. I want you to find someone who has a ton of money and a grotesque obsession to put his or her name or whatever else on other peoples' property. I'm sure you'll dig someone up. Maybe Brell Daviot of Ar-Pharazon perhaps. Sell the naming rights and make it look like a local transaction. Then, donate the money on behalf of the people of Cloud City, or rather whatever the name becomes City. Do this for me, and you will gain great favor in my eyes.”

[Silas]

The sounds of the celebration down below were enough to wake Jacen from his drunken snooze. He fell violently from the chair in his office and landed on the fluffy, carpeted floor before realizing where he was. He had woken up on this floor more times than he cared to remember. A soft beep from his desk, and the knowledge that it was likely his smokin'-hot secretary beeping him, was enough to motivate him to get up off the ground. He pressed a button on his desk and was immediately rewarded with a velvety response.

 

"Mr. Onnd, you have a visitor here to see you."

 

"Send him up."

 

A few minutes later a shady character with dark skin, obviously a man from the little known planet of Acirfa, walked into Jacen's office. He set a heavy, metal case on Jacen's desk and began to speak with an extremely drawled accent.

 

"Nah Mr. Onnd, I wantcha ta listen up real close nah. Av got somting dat you really gunna wanna see! Um not gunna even try ta trow you uh sales pitch cause dis stuff sells itself! Dey call it...Anaujiram!"

 

The man pulled a heavy plastic bag out of his jacket pocket and handed it to the Black Sun Vigo.

 

"Go aheed end light dat up."

 

Jacen took the man's suggestion and retrieved a lighter from his desk drawer as well as his water pipe. He loaded the grass-like substance into his preferred piece and took a moment to admire his work. He summoned a flame from the depths of the machine and brought it to the twisted end of the cylinder. He took a long rip letting the fumes fill his lungs before slowly exhaling a steady stream of smoke.

 

Jacen felt the effects instantaneously. He leaned back in his chair and rested the water pipe on his lap while his head began to soar. Everything seemed to have become much brighter, among other things, and Jacen knew that the fool in front of him had actually come across something worth Jacen's money.

 

Too bad this idiot would never see any of it.

 

"How much of this did you say you have?"

 

"Um tryin' ta move ahundred kilos, Mr. Onnd. Ya interested?

 

Jacen smiled. He was very interested. His arm gave a slight twitch and with a flash of gold and a loud bang the unnamed drug dealer fell to the floor in a pool of blood. The Black Sun Vigo pushed a button on his desk, summoning a team of men to come clean up the mess in his office and another team to bring the rest of the drugs from the ship that the dealer had arrived on.

 

The now-happy executive leaned back once again in his chair and ripped the water pipe again. It had been a productive day.

[Terra]

Dubrillion sat amongst the stars like an oasis in a vast, uninhabitable desert. Above the planet, The Darkened Fear exited the azure folds of hyperspace's embrace. Terra smiled down at the planet, happy once more to be home. With gloved fingers, she typed in the autopilot to take the assault shuttle to her private landing pad, and moved swiftly to the cargo bay. There, amongst the stunned animals, sat Elise, braiding her auburn hair into a long plait, lost in thought, with her sniper-rifle on her lap.

 

Terra smiled at her and the sniper stood quickly and saluted, which Terra quickly returned in kind. The two of them moved swiftly to the landing ramp as the shuttle made a soft landing upon the platform, armed and smiling. As the landing ramp lowered, several dozen Black Sun agents passed them by and began to remove the precious cargo, for training and distribution. Terra nodded to Elise, who ran off to her quarters, while Terra put the final additions on her report to Commander Smash. Once she had finished, the Echani walked quickly to the great man's office, and entered, holding her report, filled with the mission details. She spoke softly, a smile alighting her freckled face.

 

”œCommander Daisaku, the Myrkr mission was a success, and the beasts are ours. I await further orders, master.”

[Pinckz]

The Dubrillion clouds masked the sky from the blinding ball of light that was fruitlessly trying to push through them. The scene was an impetuous struggle between two powers of nature, marred by cruel inevitability.

 

Still, the light that did push through the clouds was enough to cut a sharp contrast, between the overcast sky and a trade ship that flew overhead.

 

A shadowy outline lingered alongside the trade ship, attempting to avoid detection while attached to the right wing. The ship was hovering at a steady pace until it began to decline in altitude miles over what looked to be an immense and well outfitted outpost.

 

A contact that Malin rarely used, stationed on Coruscant, had told him recently of a criminal organization stationed on Dubrillion. It didn't really take much extrapolation to figure out which criminal organization it was, but that didn't really give him the location, which is why he was hitching a ride on a trade ship. He knew there were more convenient modes of transportation, but this way he would be able to see a bird's eye view of the horizon and make something of a 'grand' entrance.

 

As to the organization itself, he didn't quite agree with the Black Sun's methods, but he wasn't really teeming with financial options. The money he had procured in times past, wasn't nearly enough to float his proverbial sinking ship of economic devastation, so he had to make do. That said, he didn't have to like the jobs he was given; he could close his eyes... Or at least try.

 

Here it goes...

 

The shadowy figure leaped from the edge of the trade ship and free fell towards the ground.

 

The air of Dubrillion whizzed past his face with arctic fury and parted his hair like the strings of a marionette. Without a master to guide them, they flayed sporadically in the air with a chaotic glee, mirrored somewhat in Malin's expression.

 

His thoughts were fluid and his worries weren't important; Malin was isolated from the world and trapped within a vacuum of serenity as he plummeted toward the ground at or nearing terminal velocity.

 

When Malin was satisfied with the length of distance between himself and the ground - collected in his thoughts - he casually lifted his hand toward his back and pulled a small black trigger. Immediately a pouch on Malin's back exploded and filled with air, catching him on the wind and guiding him down to the ground safely.

 

He was a bit shy of his sloppily planned landing, mainly because the enjoyment of his flight was still buzzing through his head, but his expression lit nothing of care in his cold blue eyes.

 

He wore a soft smirk as the parachute strings were violently detached from his back - by way of sword - and as soon as the chute was completely removed, he sauntered up to the entrance of the Black Sun headquarters.

 

He took some small care in trying to wipe the windblown look from his face and head, but it wasn't a particularly successful change. Not that he was necessarily interested in making a glowing first impression, but an attempt was at least worthy of some investment of energy.

[Terra]

”œSecurity alert, section 5B, front gate. Available agents respond.”