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The Helvault -- Nespis VIII


handofthrawn
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This is the new CoreSec prison being built over Nespis VIII. As a member of CoreSec, I shall post the description myself instead of making it part of the first post.

 

In the upper atmosphere of Nespis VIII, the highest-tech prison ever to be created was built using CoreSec funding. It was essentially a large space station the size of a small city, designed by the finest engineers in the known galaxy for the explicit purpose of keeping the Galactic Alliance's most dangerous criminals and terrorists safely contained for the rest of their lives. Far away from the core worlds, it constituted a tiny bubble of CoreSec jurisdiction, tucked away in a place where it would be completely unknown to the galaxy at large. Despite this, it represented billions of taxpayer credits.

 

The station was constructed of only the densest and strongest materials. In the tradition of the infamous Corporate Sector Authority prison, Stars' End, it was plated with molecularly bonded armor, making it all but impervious to turbolaser bombardment.

 

There was no shortage of additional security measures. No vessels were kept in the station's vacant hangars. The hangars existed for the transport of prisoners and supplies to the Helvault, but these delivery vessels did not remain any longer than necessary. The station had no escape pods. It was run primarily by droids, which could not be forcibly hacked, with a few organic overseers. Among the droids were various security models more than capable of suppressing any prisoner uprising, configured for rapid response and primarily armed with stun weapons to keep prisoners contained.

 

The station's security systems were state-of-the-art, a virtually impossible challenge for even the sum of the galaxy's greatest slicers. The doors were lined with cortosis ore to protect against invasion by lightsaber-wielding opponents. As additional security for holding Sith and other dangerous Force-users, the entire station was contained in an ysalamiri bubble, although with proper authorization the lizards could be relocated to allow temporary access to the Force in designated areas.

 

Externally, the station was armed with several banks of defensive weapons with a focus on ion cannons. The entire station was well-shielded and EMP-hardened. Even were it to be disabled, of course, the impact with the planet below would kill any on board, making rescue all but implausible.

 

Much of the defenses, the onboard AI, and emergency protocols were run by a master droid brain called NAMU (Nanometronic Automated Master Unit), who answered only to the CoreSec commissioners and her own extensive programming. If she became hacked by any external source, she would put all station defenses on alert and then shut down rather than be controlled. She can deploy ray shields and internal suppression turrets throughout the station. If somehow a prisoner insurrection were to get out of hand, she is authorized to trigger a self-destruct sequence.

 

Additional internal defenses for particularly dangerous prisoners are as complex and nefarious as the combined brilliant minds of the galaxy's greatest criminologists and security specialists could devise.

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The cold dark of internal paralysis was comforting, Jaina reflected, as she wandered through the station silently. No tormenting half-memories, no distracting sensations of life and movement from distant planets brought her away from the present. It was these moments of quiet that she cherished, the ysalamiri-induced inner peace that felt like a splash of cold water on the skin, awakening and silencing the soul.

 

The CoreSec Cell Block B overseer, reaching her destination, brushed her fingers over the activation pad on the door. "Welcome, administrator," the mechanical voice intoned as her fingerprints were recognized. Stepping inside, she surveyed the bank of cells before her, the narrowing of her eyes suggesting both disgust and pity.

 

"NAMU," Jaina said sharply, snapping herself out of her reverie, "status report."

 

"All systems functioning normally, administrator. Documents for inbound prisoner transfer received and require your attention," the droid brain responded.

 

"Proceed," Jaina said, turning to the viewscreen on the wall adjacent.

 

Geki, Furion, Ar-Pharazon...

 

She read on in disbelief and wonder, thinking smugly, CoreSec's really stepped it up a couple notches. I wonder if these guys will even be allowed their one phone call.

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...why are the pretty ones always the most hazardous to your health?

May the Forth therve you well...

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  • 2 weeks later...

With a staccato multi-flicker of pseudomotion, a group of ships arrived out of hyperspace from the core worlds, having taken one or two precautionary jumps along the way to ensure that this new location would remain a secret. Aboard the transports were dozens of captured Sith acolytes and lords, as well as Master Ar-Pharazon, the lot of them being kept in ysalamiri bubbles and bound by various restraints of more-than-sufficient security. CoreSec had growing experience with dar'jetiise, ShadowFett noted, and his own experience was helping to equip them for the job.

 

The Helvault loomed in the transports' viewscreens, and Fett marveled at the prison's size. He had authorized and overseen its design and creation, but in person he was impressed by how large it was and how quickly it had come together. The Mando'ad thought it suitable to the task it had before it. The Sith had many allies, either from within their Order or outside it among old Imperial sympathizers or terrorists and criminals who had found the Sith to be kindred spirits. Dangerous folk, the lot of them. If the Helvault were ever discovered, it would be faced with the task of opposing even these allied forces and remaining secure or at least taking the prisoners with it.

 

Soon the transports were docking, and ShadowFett armed himself with his assault rifle, then headed into the holding area and started directing mirci'te down the boarding ramps, remaining quiet and making gestures with his weapon. While there would be little honor in the act, he would not hesitate to shoot one of them down on the spot if they attempted to make an escape attempt.

 

Not that they would have anywhere to run. In orbit over Nespis VIII as it was, only the instant freeze of space or a two thousand kilometer drop to the planet's surface against the world's atmospheric friction the entire way would await them.

 

There were dozens of beskar'ade waiting for the prisoners, and the droids soon started breaking them up into groups and herding them off to their cells. Most of the cells were fairly standard galactic fare, but the Sith would find themselves reduced to ordinary inmates with the Force having no place in this structure. Ar-Pharazon, of course, was not to be herded into one of these ordinary cells. No, there was something special for him.

 

ShadowFett stayed with Ar-Pharazon, whom he'd incapacitated twice in order to get him here. As most of the other dar'jetiise filtered out, Fett began walking the man to his cell. He was allowed to be conscious for the walk, but his bindings were extra tight and numerous after the debacle in Headquarters.

 

((Ben, you have a better talent than I for describing some sort of over-the-top prison arrangement for Ar-Pharazon. I left room for your description in the last paragraph of the opening post of this thread. The more epic, the better. Feel free to post describing it and Fett taking Ar-Pharazon there.))

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(OOC: I will do what I can as we continue this story to add some description. I’m on the tail end of my spring break and have to go back to a front-loaded week of classes, so my posting until Wednesday will be somewhat less-detailed. Sorry.)

 

IC: Ar-Pharazon flew like a winged god through red skies, answering prayers, summoning wraiths, wrecking harvests, cursing his enemies, calling up storms, and creating more and more out of nothing. He soared over cities, where entire populations perished in his wake. His mere thoughts were creative brushstrokes on the canvas of existence. His war-obsessed armies never ceased their racist crusades against the innocent. Goodness was in short order. Ar-Pharazon’s rule over the unlucky planet was becoming solidified. Then, suddenly, his power of flight cut out. Screaming in panic, he fell, like lightning, to the surface. As he was about to collide with the rocky terrain, his consciousness faded out.

 

He woke up, again imprisoned, but now somewhere entirely new. Sandy Sarna’s ridiculous demise was recent in his thoughts, but he remained entirely disoriented, still under the effects of whatever drugs CoreSec has forced into his system.

 

Immediately, he found himself unable to move, bound like a chained deity in some mythological prison of yore.

 

“Oh my” he exclaimed quietly. “Where the hell am I now?”

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[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

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ShadowFett had ordered Ar-Pharazon to be awakened before he left. Maybe it was for a bit of personal satisfaction at finally having the dar'jetii locked up for good. The two didn't have a lot of history, but that which they shared was full of bad blood. It was true that the Mando'ade had long memories. In some ways, he would have preferred just to execute the man and be done with it, but he knew that it would be letting him off easy. No, he was content to let Ar-Pharazon stew in his multitude of sins for the rest of his long years, unable to leave even to attempt to make them right. Not that Fett particularly thought Ar-Pharazon capable of repenting. At the same time, here, without the Force and only his thoughts to keep him company, a man like that could change.

 

Frankly, Mand'alor didn't care. "You're in your final resting place," he answered Ar-Pharazon's question, stepping into the man's view. "You will never be found here and you will never escape." With that, Fett was satisfied. Ar-Pharazon knew that he had been bested, and that it had been Fett that took him down both times. He turned on his heel and started to depart. "Good day, sir." Soon he was walking through the ridiculous numbers of super-secured doors, traps requiring various forms of identification to bypass, ridiculous obstacles that took time to traverse all the while being under fire from a dozen weapons emplacements, and other nefarious means of ensuring the permanency of Ar-Pharazon's interment. The walk took over ten minutes to complete, even bypassing all the security measures, but he wouldn't have it any other way. It might not be absolutely necessary, but it would be all but infallible. P for Plenty, ShadowFett thought, reciting the old warrior's creed.

 

Soon he had left the area and was boarding the shuttle with the rest of the crew for departure. The rest of the dar'jetiise captured on Coruscant had been put in their respective Force-isolated cells, and Fett's work here was done. Every last transport disembarked from the station, ensuring that no one aboard could leave until more shuttles arrived, a process that required special authority. Soon, he had jumped into hyperspace, making precautionary diversionary jumps to make sure that no one could track their vector back to Nespis VIII.

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  • 2 months later...

Imprisoned in a maximum security, full-scale penal facility genuinely frustrated Ar-Pharazon, who was still under the very potent influence of incapacitating drugs. His wrists were bound. His feet were bound. His head was locked into a large helmet-like shell, hindering the basic luxury of even being able to move His evil neck. Chains were connected from His bindings to countless pillars which circled around Him. This was no way to live out the eternal life He had given Himself. Much to His dismay, The Force-negating implementations limited His ability to merely remake the structures around Him in an obnoxious and instantaneous manner befitting a god such as Himself. Still, no man or demon could ever take away His right to pray. It was the last refuge of sinners, and He was most certainly a man of transgressions. On the day of His Unholy Birth, He lucidly commanded a cadre of dedicated demons to angrily poison one thousand clerics. There was no shortage of sinful offenses. EVIL DEEDS!

 

In that instant, Ar-Pharazon began His prayer, directed to no poet-god-king, or human vicar on behalf of a lame text-based religion, or any Force-affiliated wizardly revenant that lorded over the undead, or some sort of winged reaper of the mortal life. This was the highest prayer to the highest deity – Himself. Only He was evil and divine enough to hold court over His own prayers. “Unholy Master of all that is evil, I both humbly and greedily command, and ask, You, to imbue Me with even greater strength, so that I may wrathfully destroy and desecrate this Force-damned place, in the name of Myself.”

 

Ar-Pharazon could feel the bindings on his wrists. Carefully, he uttered another silent and highly rubric-based prayer to Himself. In that moment, the bindings became consubstantial with Himself, taking on the matter AND form of both Ar-Pharazon and the durasteel. Since the bindings were Him, He would attempt to move Himself. It was as good a plan as any.

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[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

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  • 6 months later...

Abruptly a MandalMotors vessel that looked more like a tank than a personal ship materialized out of hyperspace. This vessel hadn't been here before, but its pilot was the individual who had authorized and overseen the construction of the prison, then immediately stepped down from his Commissioner position. It hadn't been his purpose in stepping down to help mitigate any ill-will toward CoreSec concerning the enormous number of tax-payer credits that had been spent to make this place operational, but that purpose had been served as well. The prison was enormous and ultra-secure, something unlike anything the galaxy had seen before, even making the infamous Stars' End look like it had the security of a public sporting event. ShadowFett wouldn't have had it any other way, given the veritable crowd of dar'jetiise that had been locked away here. He would have liked to see Stars' End hold someone as adept with the Force as these prisoners.

 

So far, though, the Helvault had worked perfectly, the Mando'ad reflected as he landed. There had not been even one report of prisoner uprising that had made it out of a single cell block. Either the Sith had been completely oppressed, or they were biding their time and hoping for rescue. Such an attempt would be unlikely to succeed even with the Order strong, but Fett had made it his goal to see them wiped out entirely. Rescue became completely infeasible if he had the entire remnant of the Sith Order here. It was this very purpose that had brought him back to this place.

 

Stopping only to check in with security and let them know that he was on-site, he began the walk to Ar-Pharazon's individual prison. It required several turbolift rides in various directions, an almost labyrinthine path using transportation methods that could be remotely shut down to prevent misuse. After the last ride, he had to pass through a series of airlock-like bulkheads with multiple beskar'ad-staffed checkpoints. The doors were cortosis-reinforced and there were ysalamiri on long-term nutrient frames stationed safely in well-protected compartments at each door, making sure that neither lightsaber, blaster, nor Force use could penetrate those portals. Even once he had been through the doors, he had to bypass several nefarious devices and traps, dozens of weapons pointed at corridors, their entire purpose to ensure the continued captivity of a single man.

 

Finally, he arrived, finding the Sith Master bound like a chained god in the middle of a huge space. He was told that Ar-Pharazon had not met another living soul since Fett had left him here, having only interacted with droids. Ar-Pharazon had not had the pleasure of conversation, music, or even many of the simple things that lesser prisoners had been afforded. As the weeks and months had passed, Moon Knight could only imagine the tremendous boredom of the powerful dar'jetii, his own thoughts clawing away at his depraved mind as he slowly descended into madness. It was a terrible fate--the only one befitting of a man who had committed such terrible crimes.

 

Approaching the man, Fett intoned the first words he had heard since his captivity had begun. "Ar-Pharazon. I trust you have been well kept?" He wasn't going to cut straight to the chase just yet. Normally, that was how Fett did business, but he needed to check on Ar-Pharazon's sanity before he got down to it.

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  • 2 months later...

Ar-Pharazon had broken down unexpectedly quickly, ShadowFett realized. For a moment he considered the implications of the man's long silence and unresponsiveness. It meant that the powerful dar'jetii was no longer a resource to him, and that the man was becoming unstable. Normally an unstable being as strong as Ar-Pharazon would concern Fett, but in such a place as this, cut off from the Force and bound with such chains that he could never break them by strength alone, there was virtually no chance of that instability leading to the demagol breaking loose into the galaxy again.

 

And so Mand'alor turned away and left. It was unfortunate that he had made this trip seemingly for nothing, but he couldn't allow a bad turn to paralyze him. There were still Sith out in the galaxy, although they had been quiet since the destruction of temple on Coruscant. He would continue to do his part in making sure the galaxy would be free of their destructive tendencies and thus more or less at peace. To do that, he would have to keep his edge, and spending time in such places as this did not help.

 

Just when he began to wonder what lead would surface next, he got a ping from the Kuat system. It was a highly encrypted CoreSec comm on discrete channels, which means that KDY was taking extra care to make sure the signal wasn't intercepted by the wrong people. It was addressed to him as the head of the team looking for Sith... and as he read it, the Mando'ad raised an eyebrow. This was quite an interesting development.

 

Returning to his ship, Fett soon had departed from the Helvault.

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  • 8 months later...

Gathering all evil to him, Ar-Pharazon projected his consciousness back in time.

 

Instantly, the Sith Master’s all-powerful mind loomed over himself at a seemingly innocuous, prenatal moment. Only an infinite being was capable of dealing with another infinite being. Transcending all levels of authority, Ar-Pharazon struck.

 

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Ar-Pharazon, truly the most important being in all real and theoretical history, time, and space, ceased to exist. The galaxy, now populated with an almost infinite number of non-victims, exploded, ironically killing everyone and wrecking everything.

 

(OOC: Obviously the game needs to continue. This really won't change much for you. Don't worry! However, for your reference, this is what the everyone is experiencing now.

 

http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/DyingDream

 

This is now the RP.)

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[Associate of the Illinois Mafia since November 2002.]

Member of the Four Horsemen

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  • 3 years later...

Nulled. See below post. Post left for archival reasons. - Aryian

 

 

Chief Warden Ankermas was at his desk overseeing the ultra high security CoreSec prison known as the Helvault when, suddenly, alarms began blaring throughout the facility. Seconds later, a message came over his comms. "Warden, there is a breach in the Detention Level 3!"

 

Slapping the comm system to send a reply, the black furred Bothan yelled, "Get riot teams to Detention Level 3, I am on my way!" Without waiting for a response, he grabbed his stun batons and stun blaster and began rushing through the facility towards where the prisoners were trying to escape. There were several other members of CoreSec also rushing around, but for now, most didn't seem to be going to arms. The part of his mind not already racing with all the possibilities of how to deal with the prisoners was already making mental notes to reprimand the section leaders for their lack of preparedness. True, nobody had ever escaped the Helvault, but that was no excuse for complacency.

 

As he reached Detention Level 3, he was met by two dozen CoreSec officers outfitted in riot gear. A lieutenant, Hobison it might be, saluted and addressed him, "Sir, we had a catastrophic failure of the security fields in Cell Block Aurek, right now, all that is holding them back are the security doors."

 

"What about NAMU? What does she have to say about this?" He peered through the transparisteel security door and saw a couple dozen of the Galaxy's worst criminals running wild in their cell block. A couple seemed to already be down--not that that was much of a loss for society.

 

The lieutenant shrugged (actually shrugged!) and responded, "She says it is a mechanical issue, not one of her doing or in her power to fix."

 

"Have you attempted to breach to restore order?" Ankermas demanded.

 

"No, we are waiting for you and your orders," said Lieutenant Hobison.

 

"Foolish human, the longer you wait, the more likely the prisoners are to organize!" The angered Bothan grabbed and quickly put on a set of riot gear. As he was doing so, he growled, "It seems I will have to do this myself then." At least it was action. He was so tired of all the paperwork that came with running a facility like this. Of all the prisons he had run, this was by far the most peaceful and uneventful. It was so full of high security, nobody ever escaped and after the first two riots were brutally quelled, the prisoners didn't even try anything. At last, he would get to do something worth doing around here.

 

"Follow me," the chief warden said as he activated his stun batons, "we will sort things out right away before they get out of hand."

 

"Yes sir!" one of the officers said as he stood by to open the security door.

 

The dozen officers got into position with riot shields, helmets, and both stun batons and blasters. Despite their initial inaction, they were some of the best trained men around. They would quickly put these prisoners down and secure the cell block, of that Ankermas had no doubt. "On my mark.... mark!" he cried and the doors opened. Pounding his stun baton against his riot shield, the chief warden stormed in ready to take down whatever stood in his way.

 

His pointed ears, however, were quick to register something wasn't right. He expected to hear the cries and shouts of the prisoners and he did. What he didn't hear was the sound of his fellow officers behind him pounding on their riot shields and moving into position to take down the prisoners. Instead, what he heard was the very quiet sound of the security door closing moments after he went through it. Turning, he realized that he was alone and the rest of his men were staring at him through the door.

 

It was at that point, his heart began to race with something more than joyful anticipation. Now, the first traces of fear began to seep in as he realized the predicament he was in. Immediately, he turned back and slapped the door control which, logically, was not working in lockdown. "Open up, we had a door failure!" he cried, then realizing they couldn't hear him behind the soundproofed door, he grabbed his comms and repeated himself.

 

To his growing horror, the men on the other side didn't seem to be trying to open the door at all, but were simply staring at him with grim, somewhat satisfied faces. Realization hit the Bothan as fear was joined by the sickly sensation of betrayal. He pounded the door while screaming expletives at the men who had betrayed him.

 

A sudden silence in the cell block grew deafening enough to get his attention. He turned to see dozens of prisoners with manic smiles and makeshift weapons in their hands slowly approaching him. With a growl, Ankermas bared his fangs, lifted his weapons and shield, and vowed to take as many of the scum with him as possible.

 

* * * * *

 

Acting Chief Warden Yuuil, a ghastly looking Givin, sat in Ankermas' old desk and filed a report to the CoreSec Headquarters on Kuat.

 

"Deputy Commissioner Nantez, it is with great regret that I must report the tragic death of Chief Warden Ankermas. Earlier today, local time, there was a catastrophic failure in the security fields in Detention Level 3, Cell Block Aurek. The Chief Warden valiantly attempted to lead a team to restore order, but was cut off when the security door malfunctioned and closed seconds after opening. Cut off from support and left alone against over forty armed and supremely lethal inmates, he was unable to hold them off for long and was brutally beaten to death. If it is any consolation, NAMU managed to restore control of the door and the resulting riot control team permanently pacified the entire Cell Block. Before he died, it was reported the Chief Warden Ankermas took eleven inmates down with him and the rest were terminated by the riot control team.

 

"I know that the Chief Warden was an ardent supporter of the Galactic Alliance and had his qualms with Commissioner Mazzari's new direction, but he was still a member of CoreSec and his loss will be felt. I ask for special dispensation and a budget line item to cover the expenses for a shuttle to personally return his body to his family on Bothawui. For the moment, I have taken command of the Helvault and await further orders from Kuat.

 

"PS, it is of some curious note that, when our investigators went back and looked into the malfunction that caused the security door to tragically close, NAMU replied only with one word: Ubiquitous. I am not completely sure what that means, please advise. Does NAMU have a flaw that puts the rest of the facility at risk?"

 

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Lord Commander Raphenel Karlovci Contispex- Imperial Warden

 

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So, the Mods have actually been discussing this one on and off for a few days. It seems rather unprecedented for a grab like this, and while IC it is fine for you to make an attempt to do so, using Coresec NPCs tactically with a now Remnant faction alias is not kosher. By this time, you can assume many outposts have gotten wind of the takeovers, and options to take advantages of traitors, especially in a fortified location such as this, are limited. If anything, I'll recognize the AI going psycho, as it seems from one of your other posts that was planned and set up, but traitor NPCs at this point should be seriously limited, if not used at all. Take the Helvault forcibly with Remnant NPCs. I have left the post mostly intact above (quote it) so you can use any of it that you'd like, but as it stands, the above post violates the tactical NPC rules.

Immediately reachable by  charlesjhall@gmail.com

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  • 3 years later...

A lone MC-24a shuttle blasted in the Nespis VIII system carrying a very valuable prisoner. It landed in the small hangar bay of the Helvault, where it was greeted by a total of seven LV8 guard droids. The main droid stepped forward as the officers carried off the Sith known as Krath Apothos. "We will take prisoner 747. You may return to your shuttle and depart." The main officer dropping the Sith off hesitated for a moment. "Shouldn't we escort him to his cell or something?" "Unnecessary. You do not have clearance, nor does the facility require such actions." The droid didn't give much of any other warning. He simply turned around and began to walk towards the door as two other of the droids took possession of the cart carrying the prisoner and began to follow the other droids, all now of which were leaving the main hangar. As the droids fully left the hangar and shut the door, another droids voice came over the intercom. "Depart the facility now. Two minutes before your ship is destroyed." Understanding that this prison clearly had things under control, the main officer directed his men to reboard the shuttle, and they quickly took off to avoid being destroyed. 

 

The seven security droids moved prisoner 747 into his cell exactly two minutes and forty three seconds after taking custody of him. Putting him in his cell, the prisoner began to wake up, having the droids lock and seal the cell. After everything was sealed up, LV8-78 stood at the door to address the prisoner. "You are now under the custody of Helvault prison. Meals will be delivered every eight hours. You will have exactly fifteen minutes to eat said meal. You are free to spend your eight hours in between however you wish. We will not disturb you up except for inspections which take place every thirty two hours. You will be forced to comply and gassed asleep. You will notice that the walls damped your ability to use what you call the Force. This is for your own protection. No visitors are allowed. Only level five clearance or higher is allowed to enter the facility. When they come, they most likely will take you to trial or to be exterminated permanently. If you have questions, hit the one single button you have access to in your cell to bring one of my fellow LV8 droids to your service. Good day Prisoner 747." After he was done, the droid turned around and left the cell's view and walked back towards his station to await the next duty or assignment. 

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  • 1 year later...

Darth Mavanger's shuttle touched down at the coordinates he was given. It was odd, to be in the fight even after his departure from the Sith Empire, but he had unfinished business. He wasn't one to leave a faithful ally to rot in a cell, especially when the plan was concocted by other allies of his campaign. He was alone- his shuttle was piloted by a simple droid. None save those who would be present would know his location. The isolation of the Empress's soul was priority right now. Even now, it remained hidden aboard his shuttle. It was programmed to self destruct should someone try to board it without his permission, and if he fell on the Helvault and death truly claimed him, the crystal would fade into the wilderness of Nepsis VIII. He sealed his shuttle behind him, looking to the sky awaiting his compatriots. He was still the Warmaster of the Sith, even in hiding as the Empress had bid, and he knew they would arrive soon.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The journey to the Nespis system passed without incident, more so, it passed in silence. The frozen interior of the ship surpassed even the temperatures of the void of space that hung about the Eternus. The coordinates were easy enough to find, even as Inmortos had to take control of the lifeless body that had ferried his chariot thus far. There was only so much a dead man could do without any spark of eternity. Flying in low over the treetops, the yacht had hopefully avoided any unwanted attentions.

 

Landing, Inmortos was surprised to see another craft setting amongst the trees. As the landing ramp silently lowered, Inmortos was struck by the warmth, the life, of the planet. Even without a living and thriving civilization the place stank of life. Wrinkling his elongated scales face in disgust, the necromancer slowly descended the ramp. Plumes of frigid air rolled out from beneath the charred and tattered Jedi robes that hung over Inmortos’ Vurk body, the body of the Jedi who had fallen Calypso thousands of years ago and had been gifted to the god-king by the reawakened Sith Lord.

 

At the bottom of the ramp, they started again. The whispers of the dead; millennia old ensnared in the lost histories of this world. The necromancer grimaced. This newfound doorway into death’s deepest reservoirs torn open to never be shut again. It was not the face he intended as @Mavanger came into view.

 

Pushing the frustrations of the damned from the forefront of his mind even as they whispered to him, Inmortos regarded the Sith Warmaster with his burning red reptilian eyes. “Well met Lord Mavanger,” he called aloud, his voice deep, rhaspy and booming, a byproduct of still coming to grips with the new body that he possessed. “The spirits spoke of your presence and I will admit I am pleased to see you. It is my hope that Lord Akheron and his apprentice will be joining us. Together, we will free my wayward apprentice.”

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The shuttles soon appeared, forming up behind the Eternus, Akheron and Solus had arrived along with their contingent of Linnorms. Landing beside the craft, he spoke noting the presence of the current Sith Warmaster, Darth Mavanger. A man he had met a couple of times before and shared the similar proclivity of combat. He could likewise sense Master Krath Inmortos, and that something was very different with the man...he had not been the same since Coruscant. 

 

But that was a matter for another time, he had more pressing issues to hand. Issuing a bow of mutual respect he begun.

 

 "Greetings Lord Mavanger, I am pleased that you could join us Warmaster, we will need every advantage we can get it we are to break the Helvault. I hear it is quite the impressive structure and boasts quite the setup, I look forward to seeing just what awaits. It shall be a good opportunity for recruitment and convertion...let's just hope Krath Apophos is appreciative of our efforts and doesn't waste our time."

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https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

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As Solus followed his master, he was surprised to witness Lord Mavenger was to join them. It wasn’t that he was incapable of the job. Far from it. After all, the last time the shard had seen Mavenger, he was given the rank of Lord. If he was being brought in for this ‘jail-break’, then the fortress they were breaking in and out of must have been difficult to say the least.  And given that this Sith had received a special mission from the Empress herself…

 

Then there was Innmortos. The Impossible Geometries were being very odd around him. More so than usual. 

 

“Lord Mavenger!” Solus spoke up, giving a bow to the Sith after Akheron had spoken. “It is wonderful to be in your presence of power again. Tell me, how did your ‘special’ mission for our current Empress go?”  

 

Solus couldn't help but emphasize the word current while giving Innmortos a glance, indicating something was afoot with the empress that involved the necromancer.

 

“And masters…” Solus turned slightly to Akheron but addressed everyone. “Perhaps if I knew more about this… Apophos, i would understand why we are risking such powerful people in order to get him loose? I did take a look at the limited designs we have of the place we are breaking in on the flight here. It looks quite…impressive, especially if we are only breaking our one individual” 
 

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Darth Mavanger regarded the other Sith from behind his mask, his own emotions not outwardly displayed. When he had last seen Inmortos, it had been in the throne room of Naboo, after he had convinced his ally to return to the council. He thought back to that day- The Dark Lady had given him a title and a mission, and he had set aside his complaints to see it through. At he known the extent of what she had planned, he would have protested more strongly.  He nodded curtly as both Akheron and Inmortos greeted him- He had few words for pleasantries now. All that mattered was the future. The next fight. The next Empire.

 

As Solus spoke however, his hands went to his blades, and he hissed through his teeth.


"If you wish for that crystal to stay in one piece you won't try mentioning that mission to me or any others again. Her fate must be lost to history so that she will never be revived."

 

He looked up- He thought he could see it. The Helvault. Where the Rebels had kept their most dangerous prisoners. All in one place, waiting, biding its time for one prison break to set them all free again. This would do more to destabilize the new Alliance than a dozen battles over supply lines.

 

"It is not only Krath Apothos that is held in the Helvault. He is, however, our primary objective. You'd do well in the future to not cast aside former allies so easily. Do it too often and you will be left with none."

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Akheron looked at his apprentice with a brief flare of Wrath and Rage rising before it subsided. Get again he had said too much, and would need to be out in his place to a extent. That and he appeared he would need to also state the purpose of their being there despite Krath Apothos. 

 

 "He is correct my apprentice, you say too much. Lord Mavanger is correct in saying to destroy her we must forget...and so she will forever be out of reach from our enemies. Do not speak of this to either anyone here, myself or anyone else am I clear? Cleanse the thought from your mind and soul, for to truly kill her she just be forgotten like a parchment burnt in the wind. You would do well to heed Lord Mavanger's advice.

 

He is correct in his assumption. The Helvault contains far more than just Krath Apothos, for he is surrounded by others of similar ilk. Outcasts, prisoners, those dissidents the Alliance, Jedi and Imperial Knights deemed too large a threat to be free. Those we can recruit to the cause of the Sith and replenish the Clan ranks. Remember my apprentice always view things within the scope of the bigger picture. See not just your objective but what and who else might be of use during the process of your tasks. See who has the potential to serve."

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
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https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

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Helvault was a gruesome place for the average being, a safe haven for the insane, and the self proclaimed home for the most notorious of criminals. For one such as Ōk, it was a combination of the three, a void that threatened to be of a helpless nature, a lingering darkness that plagued the mind upon the precipice of madness.

 

For a being whose only sight was through the Force, it was a nightmare that never ended, excitingly terrifying as the senses played their tricks. Hearing became extremely sensitive in the void of sight, even the slightest sound becoming a booming beacon. And in the playground of his mind, it grew horrific. And in his isolation, the mind became a maddening retreat. 

 

Where most prisoners struggled, Ōk grew comfortable, biding his time and reflecting upon the darkness he found himself lost within, strolling across the memories that filled his mind. Memories of his weak father, too busy to understand the gift he had shared with Ōk. Memories of his Master, the pathetic being who was preoccupied with his father's legacy that he never saw the blade as it slit his throat. And memories of his pilgrimage to sites such as Yavin IV and Dxun, where he found the truths of the Sith in absolutes.

 

But this day, of all days, the air felt different. He had been without the Force for so long that even a gentle shift in the mood alerted him. And today, the air felt more alive, more frivolous within its recycled atmosphere. A grin crossed his face in the light as a shadow crossed his laid form. Perhaps another execution had been laid out, or another had fallen to the madness of their isolated minds and forced hands that wouldn't normally be forced. But there was Darkness in the air.

 

And he welcomed it.

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"Understood, understood" Solus repeated himself while holding his hands up when the siths hands went for his blades. The shard couldn't help but think he had touched a very particular nerve at the mention of the mission. But why? Surely not just because of a silly concept of having one person being erased from memory? Solus would have to investigate this later.

 

"Still, this Apothos must be someone most interesting if he is our primary objective. What is he? Why is he so valuable?"

 

"Also…" Solus changed subjects slightly. "What is our plan of attack? Surely we are not going in blades drawn and roaring with fury. "

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Posted (edited)

Nok awoke to pain.

 

It was the same pain as before, twin knots of searing threads that sat deep in the ruined holes where his eyes should have been and spread out across his skull. Before, he'd always been able to channel the pain. The pain had been his tool. It had been his beacon. Now, it had nowhere to go, nowhere to flow, so it kneaded and pushed and twisted in his head, while he remained blind as a Mon Calamari reef eel.

 

His stomach twisted, simultaneously nauseous and starving. The sudden memory of gourmet food drew a small groan from him, and oddly enough he took heart from it. It was one of his most passionate displays in weeks.

 

"#11579, exit your cell," the security droid said in a deep monotone that somehow also managed to sound impatient.

 

Nok reached out to the side of his cot, fumbling until his hands brushed against cool metal. With a moment's effort, he rolled out of bed while using the object to steady himself. His legs fumbled near uselessly beneath him, and he leaned his weight entirely on the metal frame he clutched onto.

 

A walker. One of the greatest interstellar criminals of the era, the monster of Mon Cal, a gorram Sith sorcerer...reduced to a walker.

 

He shuffled out of his cell, just before the guard droid ordered him out again. He'd could time it by the split second now.

 

From memory, he made his way to the mess hall, and gingerly sat himself down at the table. Around him, he could hear some of the prisoners sliding away. The guard droids would stop any fights, so no one bothered to hurt him, and without that potential distraction he supposed he didn't make very good company.

 

To put it simply, Nok looked like death. His skin had completely lost any healthy shade green, or any green for that matter. A sickly gray, accented by the blackened veins spreading from his ruined eyes, marked him out now. His body was withered and hunched, his legs emaciated and bent, and his arms barely better.

 

He carefully ate the tasteless food that got set in front of him, and did the only thing he could. The one thing he was good at. The one thing he excelled at.

 

He thought.

 

Most people would use this time to build grudges, cultivate hate, think over and over about the people who had put them in here.

 

Krath Apothos would have done that. Nok Morliss...not so much.

 

Nok had seen where Krath Apothos, left on his own, got them. Heck, he'd watched Krath Apothos kill Nok in his own head before going mad with power. And then lose it all.

 

So Krath Apothos was in the back seat right now. Krath Apothos was good at wanting stuff, and was mad enough to get it. But Nok was smart, and smart was what they needed right now.

 

It was his own fault he was in here. He'd gone too deep. One of the very, very few advantages of being denied the power of the Force while also being blind was that it let you look at your actions in a clear light. Apothos had gotten too greedy. Or rather, he'd let being greedy make him stupid. He'd reached too high too quickly. Living in the shadows, working the margins, trimming the fat, that's where guys like him thrived. Who in their right mind would ever want a throne? A throne was a giant target waiting to be toppled. No...better to be the guy who sells the weapons to the guy who kills the guy on the throne...then sell to the next guy after that. The most powerful people in the galaxy were the ones who could afford to be anonymous, that was one of the oldest lessons Nok had learned, and somehow he'd forgotten that!

 

Not again.

 

Nok wasn't stupid. He knew that if...IF...he got out of here, it wouldn't be Nok Morliss walking out. It'd be that madman Apothos. And that was fine! Apothos was great! Apothos was practically a god (or at least he thought so)! If Nok could do half the things Apothos could, he'd be running half this galaxy inside of a decade. Problem was that the little spellmonger was as mad as a schizophrenic troig.

 

But that didn't mean the madboy couldn't take a few lessons from the old worm with him if he ever got out of here.

 

Alone at his table, the withered neimoidian allowed himself the faintest smile. For that second, the pain didn't seem so bad.

Edited by Krath Apothos
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In a far off system completely undisclosed, five Sluissi sat at a table working feverishly at their own dataports. They were under contract by Black Sun, or rather one of the many companies acting as a front for Black Sun. Their goal was much more simpler than it sounded, yet far more complicated than what any normal being might be even willing to pull off. Each would be awarded the sum of twenty thousand credits to fulfill the contract, to slowly put a few things within the prison on Nespis VIII into chaos. The Helvault was a fortress for anyone attempting to entering it, and hacking the system was a bit more difficult and flat out harder than what others believed. But for this small group, they believed they were able to fulfill the contract for Black Sun. 

 

Much like any heavily fortified area, taking over the whole system or key parts required almost too much skill that it would seem impossible. But the group knew of ways to slowly compromise the system through much easier means. After around an hour of work, one finally spoke up. "I'm in. Shutting down the charging stations now." Another followed by his own words. "Ktess, did you get into the food processor yet?" "No, the system there is bit more touchy. I can't find the backdoor yet." The room began to fill with excitement as to what was happening. Slowly and surely, they would break the system. 

 

None of them fully understood why Zalis was only paying for a massive distraction versus a full on take over for the system. None of them wanted to ask the question, so they let it go. For now, they would slowly compromise the system of the prison to cause chaos from within. Whatever ends they were hired for was not their concern. Only results. And in their results they would get paid. 

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  • 2 weeks later...

"Krath Apothos is a Sith Lord that pledged himself to my campaign. I am not one to leave an ally to rot in a cell for my ambitions. Indeed, were it not for Darth Nyrys and he plans set in motion, I would have led this rescue months ago."

 

He motioned towards the clearing, pressing a button and revealing a shuttle taken from the drydock of the Kuat Drive Yards months ago in nearly forgotten preparation for this very mission. Outfitted with a state of the art cloaking system and with enough room to fit several squads of Sith troopers, although it was empty now, it was the key to the locked vault. Sensors were useless against it, the active cloaking protected it from visual identification, and the Ysalimari aboard the vessel would stop anyone from sensing their presence in the Force. The only remaining hurdle was to find a way to open the hangar shields- He imagined that there would be a transport here eventually, and then they would simply slip in behind.

 

"This is our way in. Once inside, we simply find our opening and take it."

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Solus nodded at Mavevger’s words. 

 

So nothing more than sentimental value? Oh god I hope there is more to this nok then  the shard couldn’t help but think to himself. Thankfully, this time he knew the wisdom of keeping this opinion to himself. 

 

At the gesture of the shuttle, Solus clapped his hands together, their metal parts clinging loudly. 

 

“Excellent. And while I am no master strategist, I am sure that it hasn’t escaped everyone’s notice that I am the most inconspicuous one of our merry band. Perhaps once we are on board, I can separate and handle some of the system’s inner workings while you, more savage beings…” 

 

Solus gave a glance towards his own master and Mavenger before continueing. “...can be quite distracting for the systems. I have no idea what plans, lord Mavenger, you have for Innmortos, but I'm sure he will have some kind of use.”

 

Wasting no time, Solus made his way to the shuttle and boarded it. No sooner than he stepped onboard, he stopped and swayed back and forward slightly. The head swiveled around a bit, flipping its analyzing monitor down and back up again, as if doing a double take. Following this, Solus reached forward and grabbed at the air, as if he could restrain the air around him. 

 

“Oh force…oh Fanged God above!” Solus exclaimed, his voice box betraying a sense of panic and terror. “Is this…? Oh gods and deities, what is this? No, this is not right this…oh gods, is this how mortals feel in this world of worlds? Where is…oh its so empty and so…oh gods…

 

Solus clung to one of the walls of the shuttle as tightly as his little body would allow him. After a few moments, Solus released himself and looked at the others. 

 

“My apologies, its just…I’ve only been in this world of worlds for two or three years, but i’ve never felt this before. This…emptiness. This… oh gods, it feels so much clearer but so much emptier. Like a gas released from a bottle. Or a veil pulled from a blank canvas. Its…I’m sorry, don’t worry about me, i will get through this. But let me assure you, if these…Ysalimari are what causes me to feel this way, i will do everything in my power to be rid of these filthy creatures.” 

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“Krath Apothos still has use to the Sith, to me.” Inmortos murmured aloud to no one in peticular as he slowly raised a tridactyl hand as if to swat at some invisible pest buzzing about his robed head. “Waste not, want not.” 
 

He swatted again at the air, this time with both hands, fighting an annoyance it would seem was unseen by the others. The spirits, giddy with the revelations of such a gathering of Sith buzzed about the necromancer’s head like gnats. Their excitement at the knowledge they had gleaned from the world of the living and impending destruction, addition of souls to their own tortured remnants excited some. Others swirled angrily, Inmortos their only recognized path of release, desiring not the advent upon the orbital platform and sure destruction that was to follow. Here on this placid world they had found a sense of solace; a peace the Sith seemed fated to disrupt.

 

With a touch of the force, Inmortos was able to seat away the swarm casting it into the brush beyond the group. The scrub rustled and cracked as if an animal had been lurking within, only to grow still again as the invisible spirits circled back into the air. And yet, it granted the necromancer a moment of respite as he continued to grapple with this newfound avenue of the worlds beyond.  
 

Following the direction of Lord Mavanger and the excitement of the lightsaber-blade-to-be, Inmortos shuffled towards the revealed means of their alightment above. Pausing at the threshold of the ship, Inmortos did something quite unnatural. He inhaled deeply and sharply. It was a gasp of a breath, one that came as much as a surprise to him as it rattled the body of the ancient Jedi he now possessed, as it would to any of the others.

 

He felt it. The aura of the force-repelling lizards seemed to envelope him in their cocoon of repellant, an odd embrace that to Solus seemed to present a mere hiccup against his mechanized for. To the average sentient soul it might be little more than a douse of cold water in the face as their grasp upon the metaphysical was swept away. To Inmortos; however, it was different. Having walked the road of death and strayed upon both sides of the divide, sustained by the force itself, the revelation of the  ysalamiri was twofold.
 

First, it served to dull the buzzing twitterpating of the spirits that now seemed to hound him until he could regain a mastery over their kind; opening up a strange aura of peace as he finally became aware of the distant chirping birds and nature that lay behind him and the sterile machine-washed glow of the craft he now stood before. It was almost familiar, line the cousin of an old friend; different but recognizable. Was this what death was meant to be? A sense of peace that washed over one’s haggard life’s work in the final moments?

 

And the final moments were what it seemed, for unlike the others, bound to the trail of life, Inmortos’ newfound body suddenly convulsed as the physical began to react to the unnatural horrors necromancy by it’s very nature enacted upon it. The filling and cleansing of souls, the wresting of control between two consciouses. The sudden ebb of death itself as it reached out from the grave to grasp at Inmortos’ bodily form, recognizing it and him for what they were, an imposter, powerless within the tranquility of the ysalamiri.

 

Lurching forward, Inmortos grasped the frame of the door heavily as he leaned against it, his legs feeling weak beneath him. Clutching the doorway, he stumbled forward, moving from one supportive handhold to another as he leaned on his ever present cane until at last he could turn and fall into a seat. His breathing was ragged as he held up a three-fingered hand, already the onslaught of the grave was beginning to make it’s mark, his green fingers blackened as if by severe frostbite; the sensation of his appendages growing numb and tingling. Without the power of the force, all that held the finality of the end at bay was the will of the spirit of Inmortos himself, unwilling to meet his end. Not this way. Not now. Not ever.

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Akheron listened closely as Lord Mavanger explained his motivation for the current mission. He felt likewise inclined, for as much as the two didn't see eye to eye all the time, much like Krath Inmortos, he was still a ally. One he would not leave to his fate for the Fanged God had deemed there was further use to be made of the Technomancer. As the group approached the shuttle and spoke further, he listened to his apprentice.

 

 "A excellent idea my apprentice. Use your abilities to your advantage, just as you use my teachings and the Darkness, show us the Assassin you wish to be. Your task for this endeavour shall be to disable the security systems where possible...open the door for us so to speak and find a way to destroy the Yslamiri lizards aboard so we and Krath Apothos may access the Force and be free to wrought destruction upon the prison. 

 

As for the lizards themselves, the Yslamiri, use this as a learning moment my apprentice. Remember this feeling, and the void they leave us in. For even a Sith can have our access to the Darkness temporarily stopped, rare as it is...these creatures are a strange phenomenon. One connected with the Fanged God no doubt in some way, to test us. To test out devotion to the Darkness even when our greatest gift is taken from us. It is a potential weakness...one that can be used against us by those not as attuned in the Force. To have us rely on our other senses, that of our smell, hearing and natural sight if we have it. The vibrations of the feet. Come, there is much to do. "

 

With that he entered, the void encircling and encasing his form. For him, briefly he doubled over before focusing his other senses. Remembering lessons learnt from his tutelage under Sheog The Mad when he was sent to Myrkr. The birthplace of the lizards they now encountered. He remembered the familiar feeling and how to not succumb to it. 

 

Turning to Lord Mavanger, he spoke.

 

 "A impressive craft, it is a sound plan."

 

Edited by Karys Narat iv-Adas
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https://jedirp.net/topic/4851-trodai-narat-iv-adas-darth-akheron/

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"The universe started in darkness at a time when light didn't exist, and that is how it will end. Chaos and suffering is what brings us together. In chaos a man or woman will show who he or she really is and in suffering they will speak the truth. We are darkness incarnate, we are the evil. This cannot be denied, even by me. But without us there is no redemption, passion or order." - Darth Akheron

 

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Life began to stir outside his cell as dawn began to break for most, but for Ōk, he remained oblivious in the dark. The burden of blindness was as maddening as it was clarifying. Rising from his slumber as the sounds of life stirred him from slumber, he listened to his surroundings and rose, taking solemn steps toward the stasis field of his cell. And with a decreasing hum, it statically dissipated.

 

In the time he had been here, cut off from the brilliancy of the Force, his senses of sound and memory had became his only lifelines. He no longer had to count his steps or remember directions, nor did he have to focus his ears to the close shuffling of chains and forms. It had become customary, a reaction to living a blind life behind bars. When he walked, he walked with the knowledge of his surroundings, no longer hindered by the voidness that plagued his form without his sight.

 

As he sat down in the commons, amongst the populace of Helvault, he etched his hands across its surface until he felt the fork and spoon of his breakfast, taking bite of the vile nutrient rich goop they served relatively on a daily bases, it's bland texture and taste barely coating the surface of his tongue. It was pointless to imagine anything else, nor remember the meals from before. No. This had became his life, and he was stuck in its rotation. 

 

After breakfast, he and the others were shuffled once more, this time to the yard for daily exercises, where some played games while others lifted weights in a meaningless cycle of life outside their persecution. But for Ōk, this was simply pointless. And without the Force, there was no need to train. So he instead sat to the side in isolation, growing gluttonous in the passing of time. In truth, he had grown tired of being shuffled around and would rather spend his time in his cell. But thanks to the Imperial Remnant and their Rebel Allies, such things had become mundane mandatories.

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The five Sluissi continued to do the work of Black Sun, breaking the system for no other purpose then show that it could be done. It was a weird and awkward contract to accept, but the pay was so good, only a fool would have turned it down. They had setup exactly as the request was made. An isolated remote location, hack into the main HealthiDrive system, use their relays to hack into the fortified prison. Thus far, that was all a cake walk. The hard part was the triple remote access into the system on Nespis VIII. The system was already hard to crack without alerting everyone that they had broken in. But some systems were easier to find backdoors into without altering anyone. The first system was the charging system for all of the droids. But many of those droids could go days without having a charge, so it was fairly pointless at first. The food processors and lavatories were also easier to crack into, but did require some time. 

 

Ktess got excited when he finally did get into the system for the food processors, to which all he could do was either fully lock them down, or have them spit out food nonstop. He choose a mix of the two, to cause some more chaos as much as he could. Hjunn cracked into the lavatories almost nineteen minutes after Ktess got in on his end. Now all that remained for the five Sluissi were some random cameras, two weak point comm systems and a few weaker doors. It wouldn't be much, but it would prove a point. And that was all that they had to do for Black Sun. Prove that the system could be tampered with. Why was still a mystery to them, but the pay was high enough to overlook everything else. 

 

 

**** Droid Command ****

 

LV8-Y1 processor system quickly flagged down the alarm that the food processors had begun to malfunction amidst some prisoners eating. "What is the diagnosis" The metallic voice was met by another, FSD-12, the main droid in the kitchen area. "Unknown. Food processors 2,5,8 and 12 are not working at all. Food processors 1,3,4,6,7,9,10 and 11 will not stop outputting food. Shutting down the grid system in the mess hall is the only way to to regain control and provide a full report on what is happening. All prisoners must be taken back to their cells for this action to be complete. Your authorization is required for this action." LV8-Y1 turned his upper portion and opened a comm channel. "All non-assigned security to the Mess Hall- authorization code seven-delta-five-three-one."

 

Another droid, R6-D9 beeped loudly and rapidly at LV8-Y1. The command droid turned directly to the astromech droid. "What do you mean cell 200R6 is flooded?" The droid beeped again. "The lavatory is flooding. Those systems were updated two weeks ago, it is impossible for them to have any issues." The small astromech droid beeped and spun it's head around as it continued to explain. "Other lavatories are beginning to show the same thing. Our system must be compromised somewhere. Alert maintenance command." LV8-Y1 turned its upper body again and sent another message to all security droids. "Move all prisoners to rec floor under protocol red-seven-two. Await further orders." 

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15 hours ago, Zalis Krales said:

Another droid, R6-D9 beeped loudly and rapidly at LV8-Y1. The command droid turned directly to the astromech droid. "What do you mean cell 200R6 is flooded?" The droid beeped again. "The lavatory is flooding. Those systems were updated two weeks ago, it is impossible for them to have any issues." The small astromech droid beeped and spun it's head around as it continued to explain. "Other lavatories are beginning to show the same thing. Our system must be compromised somewhere. Alert maintenance command." LV8-Y1 turned its upper body again and sent another message to all security droids. "Move all prisoners to rec floor under protocol red-seven-two. Await further orders." 

 

Nok sputtered as a droid roughly lifted him to his feet, the fork of indeterminate foodstuff clattering to the table.

 

"#11579, you require guidance. Follow."

 

Nok barely managed to catch the edge of his walker and move it in front of him as the security droid began "guiding" him out of the dining area, its hand firmly gripping his arm. Half stumbling, half sliding as the droid dragged him along, his mind began to turn over what was happening.

 

A break in the schedule. Something was happening. Maybe just a malfunction.

 

Still...

 

As his feet brushed a workout mat, he realized where he'd been brought. The rec room, a place he'd only occasionally visited, given his physical frailty. The droid positioned him somewhere near the center of the room and let him go, leaving without a word to complete some other chore. Judging from the shuffling sounds, other prisoners were being funneled into the room.

 

What was going on?

 

He didn't want to get his hopes up, but it smelled like opportunity.

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  • 2 weeks later...

Mordecai boarded behind the rest, his voice silent as he took the helm. Wordlessly, he shut the boarding ramp and engaged the ship's cloak. In mere moments, the ship had disappeared from sight, and Mordecai engaged the engines. All that was left was to get in position and wait for the hangar shields to drop. As the ship lifted and began it's approach to the prison in the stars, he felt his stomach drop, and felt something leave him, as though he'd lost an organ without realizing it. The Force had left him- it was an alien feeling. He felt the true weight of his equipment, his strength no longer aided by the Dark Side. He was still strogn ,still powerful, still a warrior, but without the force he was as capable as any other. It reminded him of his days on Korriban, his connection to the Force a small strand of wool compared to what it was now. He hadn't known then what he was missing.

 

There was something else though- It was like a bag had been taken off his head, as though he was coming to from a drunken stupor. A dark pressure that had loomed over him for years seemed lighter, less pervasive. His grief seemed to abate, even if momentarily, and his rage left him nearly entirely. It was a shock to his system- Was this some secondary effect of the Ysalimari? Was it an effect that was used to placate the prisoners and make them less violent?

 

Only time would tell.

 

The ship drifted into the void, approaching the prison with little trouble. He shut off the engines and leaned back, keying his communicator.

 

"We've arrived. Once the shields are down, we'll infiltrate. Make yourselves comfortable- there's a chance we will be here for some time"

 

 

mavms.png

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